“I was so full of pain just again, I had
There was no way for me to get over it
So I kept it bottled all up inside me
‘Til I felt the pressure, I could no longer breathe.”
-Amber Mark
Corellia
Surface: Coronet
The victory over the Republic has led them out onto thin ice over very deep water.
The move immediately shifts the way Corellia approaches anyone who comes or goes from the system, now under the military command of Artemis Soldys, resulting in some frantic pivoting from the People’s Council. They had filtered through as many fleeing Force-sensitive refugees as they could and even allowed others to settle across the system with the promise of safety. It was always a risk, but now they have taken a more direct stance, asserting themselves against the now-prevalent tyranny of the Republic. They have a Republic Senator in CorSec custody. Sixta and Cassidy were two of the agents who disarmed and captured Braac’s forces under Sutton’s direction. There is no longer even a promise of safety, much less a guarantee. They would close ranks with that stiff Corellian upper lip.
Della Avers feels a convergence of emotions but maintains a carefully constructed composure as she gazes out across Coronet. Gravity well nets captured. Republic forces in their custody. The Asunder is docked and undergoing the required maintenance while Donovan Atrii is treated at the hospital, and Director Elon Veritaas quietly lays Sirona to rest. A world of shit if there ever was one. It is impossible not to feel the weight of everything crushing down upon them, but, in her own way, Della is somewhat relieved that the moment has finally arrived. She’s wanted a fight for a while, and now they have it. However, she knows it’s not just her ass on the line here.
She takes a long, slow breath and turns to the guests in her office.
Circe Prescott stands beside the chair Riley Patten is currently parked in, equally stoic atop a mounting dread, as he debriefs them. The second incident has claimed another life, but not before the attacker revealed a potential link that connects these loose threads. The grey-skinned woman who wants to claim it all: Adubell.
“She is behind these attacks. I am certain of it. An attempt to destroy us from within.”
Della is not privy to many of the prophecy's insidious specifics. She has been on the periphery of it all, which is, in a way, probably best for her. Too late for Circe, though, as she survived the last cycle – barely. It has been difficult to let people in when confiding in anyone links them to something that could wind up getting them killed. He remained more abstract and conceptual when relaying what Aunt Mara had told them, trying to impart enough context to keep them aware without dragging anyone too deep into the murky areas they are forced to operate in. A tricky conversation. Describing Adubell and her fixation on the prophecy outcome is no easy task. Still, Della knows enough to be skeptical and cautious.
“I know I am going to regret asking this, but why? What does this woman want?”
Riley’s mouth quirks downward, “The Four dead so she can rule and bring about the return of the Sith.”
“Quite lofty goals, I’d say. So specific. As if we can afford to worry about this with everything else going on. Surely you see that. We’ve crossed a line, Riley. Taken a stand. The Republic may be smarting from our rather clever plans, but it won’t end there. They will respond.”
“That does not change what lies beneath. The Voss-Ra have spent years and years nudging things along. Infiltrating and intervening. They have led us here, or at least had a hand in shaping the circumstances surrounding these events. Adubell is an extension of that, a tool to be used against us.”
“Mm, I see. These are the shape-shifting sorcerers you mentioned?”
“Well, yes, but when you say it like that-”
“It sounds insane. Oh, good. I am pleased to see you are keeping up. As terrifying a picture as you paint of this Adubell woman, we led ourselves here, and now we must face what is to come. The Republic has stifled and subverted us long enough. I certainly hope we don’t go down, but if we do, we are sure as hell going down swinging.”
“I don’t disagree. All I am saying is that these things are intertwined. I think they wanted this, and I think they want the Republic to fall. The Empire would be ready to pick up the pieces, and after everything the Republic has put everyone through, I think the galaxy might let them. The once-greater evil who became the lesser evil.”
Della’s expression remains severe, “Need I remind you that the Empire is working with the Republic. They are indistinguishable as far as I am concerned. Anyone can see the traces of their ruthlessness in these actions. If anything is intertwined, it’s them. The truce has damned them now that the Republic is officially off the rails.”
A silence settles over the group. It is Circe who breaks it.
“For now. I have watched the Empire nearly return to power not all that long ago. They were so close to regaining their lost glory when it all came crashing down at Centerpoint. It allowed the Republic to find footing and growth, eventually reasserting itself as the beacon of galactic order. It was really something…for a time. They never forgot Corellia’s role in that.”
“You think they are using the Republic to exact revenge through the truce?”
“You don’t? After the F.U.R.A. was passed, they could have easily capitalized on all that suspicion and fear and singled out Corellia, using the struggle of its membership and the then-newly reformed Republic’s mistrust to drive toward an inevitable conflict. It may not be all they are after, but the distraction is both consuming and effective.”
“You referenced cycles of the prophecy, and I see cycles in this as well. It may be reaching, but it’s not far. Not for them. The Republic has always had it out for us. They never wanted us to be part of the Republic for exactly this reason. The Empire may be furthering that end, but they have had a motive from the beginning. We cannot be controlled. Will not submit.”
“We won’t,” Riley says firmly. “We have the gravity well nets and the superlaser.”
“The nets are a first line of defense, but the superlaser? That’s the last resort only. The High Commander will not use that if he can avoid it.”
“I think that is a mistake. We can repel them for good if their capital fleet is decimated. Mon Cal is not coming to their rescue, and they have already made us enemy number one. They are out of options. Why not use it? They would not dare attempt to subjugate us again.”
Della exchanges a glance with Circe, then crosses her arms.
“It’s not that we don’t appreciate the added artillery. Stealing a Chiss secret weapon from the Unknown Regions is…definitely noteworthy, and something Corellia will not forget as part of your efforts to secure the region. However, we need to look at this from all angles. The superlaser may destroy their fleets, but so too those that man those ships. The High Commander is not going to claim Republic lives unnecessarily if he can find another way, as he has with this first move. We want to beat them, not become them.”
He rises from the chair, looking between them.
“The Republic has already committed genocide against the Force-sensitive community across the galaxy, so they cannot reasonably expect not to lose lives in the pursuit of justice. We are well past resisting the Republic peacefully. Even Soldys knows that. I am not advocating for casual violence, but we need to be ready and willing to use the resources we have available to us to save Corellia.”
“We are aware of the situation…and the risks. What we cannot afford is to overplay our hand.”
Circe affirms evenly, “The Republic is not out of options, as you suggest. They have the Imperial fleets. With their credibility shot, they may need to tap into that resource in this time of need.”
For a brief moment, an image flashes before his eyes: wipe them all out. Republic, Empire – gone. It may destabilize the galaxy for a time, but they would finally, mercifully, be free to start over without either faction amassing the kind of power that tempts one to take it too far. Galactic government has its own cycles, after all. He blinks away the thought, knowing it would be a bridge too far. To Della’s point, it would be egregious. Inhumane. They must find a balance, but he struggles to source one that does not end with their hands dipped in blood.
“I am sure there will be a price for that, one the Republic may not even be around long enough to pay.”
“Which is why we must carefully consider our next move,” Della says, returning to her desk. “I’ve got a handle on things here. Go check on Agent Theon while I connect with the High Commander. I’ll reach out with any additional changes we need to make to our policies impacting our citizens. I do not think I can take any more bad news right now.”
“Actually, it’s not all bad news…”
He tells them he and Gemma plan to marry and extends formal invitations.
Della is strangely elated by the news, a bit of levity and joy amongst the rubble, even if she does see it as another distraction. His fierceness around protecting Corellia is admirable, but knows the Republic will try to make an example out of them. She is not discounting the prophecy entirely, but feels there are narcissistic undertones, as with anything that is seemingly foretold. The special ones and their trials show little regard for anyone else caught in their wakes. Circe is outwardly celebratory, but her more recent encounters with Gemma are not far from her thoughts. Melanie Masterton had been intense as well, but never vengeful, something she has begun to see in Gemma, which makes the news feel fated for tragedy.
A scene she has seen play out before.
“Congratulations, Riley. To you and Gemma both.”
*
Riley escorts Circe to the hospital and keeps the conversation between them light.
He tells her about their wedding plans, sparse as they may be at this point, and seems hopeful for the future. The sentiment runs counter to Gemma’s ominous and speculative plans, but she hopes this means they have reconsidered. She knows exactly what the prophecy demands, has seen it take its dreadful toll upon anyone involved. The people she once knew – Rydan, Seneca, Kent, Melanie, Kimber – all victims to the machinations of something more powerful than all of them. He is not wrong in his assessment, the driving forces behind their predicament, but she does not blame Della for focusing on the more pressing matters at hand. It is not as real to her as it is to Circe or Riley, or Gemma. And she hoped it never would be. She is not naïve, having lost her own career and identity in the fallout, and knows they must carefully navigate their way through if they ever hope to survive it.
The sadness that threatens to overcome her is stemmed only by the antiseptic odors and sterile lighting of the hospital corridor. She checks in at the desk. As “Agent Theon” has no known family, “Octavia Valles” is listed as an approved visitor, someone with access and oversight to his medical care that was arranged long before they found themselves needing it.
“I take it the Director isn’t keen to return here even if it is to check in on a friend.”
Riley offers a timid smile, “Not after everything he’s been through. He’s much better than when he woke up, but it’s been a long road. I’m not sure he’ll ever sound the same as he once did. Not sure he'll ever be the same.”
Not surprising after his throat was slashed and he was left for dead on the floor of the medical director’s office. A close call that nearly cost them a trusted ally within the ranks of CorSec.
“I suppose not, but I am grateful he is still with us.”
“Me too.”
After a few minutes, the doctor appears and takes them both aside. His face is unreadable, but his mannerisms, stiff and formal, do not bring her the comfort she was hoping for.
“I am afraid the injuries Agent Theon sustained were more serious than initially suspected. We were able to repair most of the damage, but the acute lack of immediate attention resulted in needing to take more drastic action. We were unable to save his leg, and it was amputated. He is recovering, and we can discuss recourse, mechanical and otherwise, when the time comes. For now, he needs rest. I understand this will be difficult, but we are providing the absolute best care possible for him.”
Riley pales and runs a hand over his face.
Circe nods weakly, “Thank you, doctor. When can we see him?”
“Tomorrow morning, at the earliest. We can send word when he wakes.”
“That would be much appreciated. Please let us know if there are any changes overnight.”
After he leaves them, Circe’s eyes find Riley’s. They had to be creative with the details of Donovan’s injuries. Even here, in a Corellian medical center, they could not risk the truth. Too many questions. Oz, Lysette, Sirona – so many casualties. The cost of all of this. Donovan is alive, and that is something to be thankful for, but she anticipates he may not see it that way at first.
“It’s been a long day,” she says. “You should go home and get some sleep if you can. I’m sure you’ll need to catch up with your colleagues about the Senator Braac situation. CorSec will have its hands full with that.”
“Of course. What about…?”
“I’ll inform Director Veritaas and discuss options.”
He does not argue and instead embraces her. She holds him close, then watches him disappear through the doors at the end of the hall. Taking a breath, she finds her center. All she has ever wanted to do is care for others – a counselor, a friend, a support system - and she has found that here, among those who fight for all to live in peace the way that they so choose. She also knows it has been built on lies. Who she is, where she came from, and what they are really doing at the People’s Council.
In this moment, amidst the malevolent shadows of the past, Circe Prescott feels utterly alone.
-TBC
