Grand Admiral Taridon strode through the corridors of the underground Alliance base at an unhurried pace. After all, there was no point in hurrying now after she had waited this long before approaching the infirmary section of the complex. The doctors had notified her of Loran's condition upon arrival back at Corellia. It had been made clear to her that the Director of Intelligence would require time to recover before he could be effectively debriefed. Several days had subsequently passed before Aella had elected to make her move.

Waiting was something of an art form where Aella was concerned. It was always a matter of waiting just enough, no longer, in order to achieve the proper result. She tried to accomplish most tasks through such precise scheduling, in order to most efficiently use her time. Aella had found the impression this tendency of hers made helped contribute to her reputation as something of a preternatural force, something which she also found useful to her. Appearances weren't everything to her, but they were still very important to maintain.

Aella's timing was once again excellent, as she arrived at the door to Loran's private room within the infirmary just as Hal Tanis was leaving. The shaggy-browed man was openly startled by the sudden appearance of the Grand Admiral in front of him. Stopping in the open doorway, it took him a moment to gather his thoughts after his abrupt halt had scattered them. "I was just about to buzz you, Admiral. Are you--"

"I have read your latest report, Doctor," she interrupted him without regret. Tanis could be something of a prattler when he was in a pleasant mood, and Aella had no wish to endure his rambling form of speech at the moment. "I require some time alone with the Director, please." The 'please' at the end was a mere polite formality, as the tone of her voice made it eminently clear her words were an order, not a request. Harumphing quietly to himself, Tanis muttered a begrudging "Yes, sir," and vacated the premises.

Taking the doctor's previous position in the entryway, Aella fixed her vivid green eyes on the sole occupant of the room. Crossing her arms across her uniform front, she gave Loran one of her intense, accusing glares. Most individuals found this level of scrutiny from her to be quite intimidating, but Aella didn't expect such from the Director. He'd never been frightened of her, after all, one of the few people in the galaxy who could make that claim. The Grand Admiral didn't bother with words at this point; after ten years, the Corellian would know exactly what she wanted to say.

With an annoyed grunt and a violent wave of his arms, Wes battled off the bothersome doctor who had, along with countless others, been fretting over his health. It was becoming very tiresome, by default Wes hated people worrying about him or constantly checking up on him, and now he’d had several weeks of simply that. He was going near insane, not being able to move freely as to not strain his healing body. He almost wanted to get out of there just to do paperwork, almost. He hadn’t reached that level of desperateness however.

When the doctor finally left, Wes fell back on the many pillows he’d been using to prop himself up. Lying down would not work for him, if he was going to remain stationary in the first place, he wanted to sit. He fretted briefly about the pillows, annoyed that they weren’t as comfortable as before the doctor had arrived to ruin his nicely arranged backrest. He directed another grumpy curse in the direction of the doctor, before settling down finally, seeing the door open once again, and prepared to yell at whoever was deciding to bother him now.

The words never left his mouth though, as he saw in time who was entering the room. His face broke into a wide grin, happy that she’d finally decided to visit, rather than ignore him most of the time. He hadn’t seen her in the flesh since the preparations for the Battle of Kashyyyk, the fateful battle which was the reason behind him being in the infirmary bed in the first place. However, he knew by instinct that she wasn’t here on a social visit, probably not even to say hello to an old friend.

”You going to utilise some of that efficiency now?” He sneered; coupled with the grin, it made the whole expression come off as rather odd. He found himself more than a little annoyed that she hadn’t even popped by, while he was sure she’d been receiving reports of his status, he’d been down here rotting in boredom, and she’d been walking around, enjoying being able to walk beyond five feet of her bed. Not to mention he was still a little frayed as far as his temper came. He hadn’t been free of mental suffering from the torture, even if they’d been very minor.

Part of Aella, the part of her that still had emotions that weren't linked to her cause of vengeance, wanted to return the smile Loran sent her when she entered the room. She may be presenting a disapproving front at present, but deep down inside there was no escaping the fact that this man was her friend--her closest friend at that. Aella possessed very few emotional attachments to anyone, and she tended to be protective of those rare individuals she cared about. What had happened to him had been... difficult on more than one level as a result.

"You going to utilise some of that efficiency now?"

The Director's irritation at her was plain to see, and in a way Aella supposed she was due to a certain degree. Neither of them dealt well with bed rest, she knew from past experience. Standing idle was a condition both of them despised. The impulse to visit him during his recuperation had been present in the Grand Admiral's mind during the past few weeks, but each and every time she had decided against it. It wouldn't have been very efficient for one member of High Command to spend her time at someone's bedside instead of getting her work done. Not to mention such an act on her part might have inspired rumors, which was something she thoroughly despised.

"I might," Aella responded to his garrulous inquiry blandly, taking a step further into the room in order to allow the automatic door to close behind her. "If I decide you're up to it." There were multiple ways that Loran--Wes--could take that statement, and in honesty the woman meant all of them. The linkages between the two of them were complex, as they were both friends and comrades in a common cause. Priorities could be difficult to sort out at times as a result.

Continuing her forward motion, Aella brought herself to stand by the side of Wes' bed within his arm's reach, allowing her to gaze down upon him with her habitually severe expression. "Do you mind telling me just how exactly you ended up as a guest of our enemy?" Her tone was somewhat harsh towards him, but the look in her eyes was surprisingly sympathetic. Aella knew down to the last clinical detail what the Confederation had done to Wes, though she could only estimate the extent of the emotional damage. One more thing she had to take her revenge on the Dolomarians for.

"If I decide you're up to it."

Wes’ face melted into a frivolous grin, his eyebrows waggling slightly at the suggestions her words brought to mind, but he knew there would be nothing of that anytime soon, sadly. He knew it by feeling how he was and by the ways the doctors were treating him that any physical exertion wouldn’t be a very good idea on his part. He wanted to have a roughly full recovery before he went messing around any, he didn’t want to permanently damage anything, after all.

"Do you mind telling me just how exactly you ended up as a guest of our enemy?"

He grew visibly bothered by her words, finding himself fidgeting some more and looking tense and angered. The whole subject of his capture was sore for him, mostly because of what had happened during it rather than how it had happened. While he’d handled it fairly well under the event, the sitting around in the infirmary had given him a chance to think about it, and past memories resurfacing, he was feeling more or less terrible, but her close proximity was slightly comforting. She was familiar, which soothed the frayed ends of his mind some.

“It wasn’t my fault!” He finally exclaimed, sounding like a child that had been reprimanded as he looked over at Aella. “It’s that bloody idiot we have for a Grand Marshal’s fault! Him and his kriffin’ screwed up regulations!” His voice sounded both annoyed and pained, although the annoyance was more apparent.

The dislike of being idle was coming forth a bit more extreme than usual, as he normally could handle it without whining much. It was merely the bad combinations of having a lot of time to think and the recent events making him more temperamental than usual. The fact that it was affecting him so only bothered him more, which again increased his swing in moods.

"It wasn’t my fault! It’s that bloody idiot we have for a Grand Marshal’s fault! Him and his kriffin’ screwed up regulations!"

Wes' distress and anger were communicated clearly to her just from his body language; his defiant words only emphasized the emotions. Aella frowned faintly as she observed him from her vantage point at his side. She knew him well, could read him better than most, and found it obvious that her first choice as to how to attack this problem would not work. There was too much bottled up inside the man right now to allow them to discuss matters in an appropriately objective manner. Wes was a far more demonstrative individual than her even at the best of times.

A quiet sigh escaped her as she unfolded her arms, letting them drop to her sides as she considered him thoughtfully. What she wanted to do and what she had to do fought for supremacy in her mind. With very few people or subjects did this sort of internal conflict arise. Normally all she had was her duty and her vengeance, and those generally reigned supreme in her thoughts. Neither of those would be of much help to her friend at the moment, however.

"Excuses do not become you, Wes," she murmured softly, dropping the pretense of a formal debriefing. "You know how I feel about such things." Indeed, never had Aella tolerated an excuse from anyone, including herself. For Wes to have resorted to using them himself was a sign of how deep his emotions regarding the subject ran. It angered her greatly, to see what her enemy had done to her comrade to bring him to this point physically and mentally.

After another beat of silence, Aella lifted a hand and brought it to rest on his nearest shoulder. Her expression remained relatively impassive, save for her eyes. "I was worried about you," Aella confessed quietly. "And I blamed myself, for letting you go down there. Even though I knew it had to be done." Another sigh passed between her lips. "The regulations can be replaced... but you cannot."

"Excuses do not become you, Wes,"

Wes let out a scoff, barely managing to prevent himself from rolling his eyes at her words. Of course she’d turn to that official tone of hers, sometimes he thought that was all she knew. It annoyed him at the best of times, she seemed incapable of any sort of emotion beyond strict when people were around, always going on about efficiency and inefficiency. Wes treasured those moments where she seemed more human, but that was only when they were alone. It seemed that his glimpses of the more human Aella made him eternally annoyed at her when she was acting more or less emotionless.

"You know how I feel about such things."

“Save it,” he snapped, sending her an annoyed look. He did not feel up to listening to her coming with any of her efficiency talks. It seemed her waiting to visiting him had been a good choice, it would have been better if she’d waited a bit longer. He was not at all set on receiving lectures from anyone, he even argued when the doctor was telling him orders about not exerting himself. He felt his foul mood from before seep in through the cracks where he’d been containing it. As a result, he descended into a simmering pot of anger, finding himself wanting to punch something rather than talk to his old friend.

Preferred punching bag would be his brother, but that was not to be.

"I was worried about you,"

“I was worried about me too,” he said dully, looking away, but not withdrawing from her hand. His thoughts wandered back to the days he’d spent in Confederate custody, about the events that had happened. A look of pure hatred settled on his face as he stared at nothing in particular, his fist clenching and his jaw set in anger. He hated it when his mind brought him back to those moments, but as far as he was concerned it was unavoidable, it would be a constant blemish on his memory.

"The regulations can be replaced... but you cannot."

A small shiver went through his body, more due to the memories he was remembering than her words. While he felt touched that she’d been worried and thought it had been wrong of her to blame herself, he didn’t say any words to tell her otherwise, due to the fact that he’d sound spiteful, angry or snarky.

"I was worried about me too."

Rarely did the Grand Admiral of the Alliance find herself at a total loss as to what action was best to take in any given situation. Aella prided herself on being capable to respond quickly and definitively to whatever problems came her way. However, these particular circumstances were not ones she was used to dealing with, to say the least. Offering comfort was not something that came naturally to her; she was not much the nurturing sort, one of the many reasons she had elected to remain childless. Yet she had the inkling that such a thing was what was required at this point of time, which stymied her to a significant degree.

His anger she could deal with, as it was only to be expected. She knew most of it was not truly directed at her anyways; she just happened to be the nearest available target on which Wes could vent his rage. Their friendship was strong enough that she would ultimately not take whatever insults he offered her in his current mental state personally. His pain was another matter entirely. Knowing her hated enemies had so greatly harmed one of the few people in this galaxy she still cared about brought all sorts of vindictive ideas to her mind. All of them were pleasant enough to fantasize about, to be certain, but none of them were particularly helpful at this point in time.

Aella felt the shiver that went through him after she spoke, but she did not remark upon it. A man was entitled to his dignity, and she would not impinge upon it any further than it already had been by drawing attention to such things. "Perhaps I should have waited longer before I visited," she offered again after several moments of silence had passed. "I simply didn't want you to think I had forgotten about you," Aella continued dryly, making one of her small, subtle jokes in an attempt to distract her old friend from his ill temper.

Her fingers gave a gentle squeeze of Wes' shoulder in an expression of reassurance she could never give to him in words. "The debriefing can wait, Wes," the silver-haired woman concluded, her tone unusually mild as she said so. While it was something that had to be done eventually, she could see clearly that attempting to accomplish it now would only make her friend all the more distraught. Aella may be duty-bound, but even she could only take her duty so far when it threatened to injure someone so important to her. Waiting another few days--or even a few weeks--would not change what had happened to her friend, after all. The facts would remain the same.

"We can speak of other things, if you need more time." If her subordinates could see her now, it is likely the vast majority of them would be shocked at the sight of Grand Admiral Taridon giving someone an out like that. Normally she dismissed other people's emotions as unimportant, save when they presented an obstacle to someone efficiently performing their duties.

"I simply didn't want you to think I had forgotten about you,"

Wes gave a shrug, feeling much like a child who was being given lenience by his parents. He hated that feeling and it made him feel more than a little guilty for his anger wrongly directed at her. At the moment he didn’t seem to be acting his age at all, something he rarely ever did normally, but this time it was on a more extreme level than before. His haywire emotions were wreaking havoc on his normal way of being, another thing to be angry at for the Confederation. He felt positively messed with, his mind not broken but the restraints loosened somehow.

"The debriefing can wait, Wes,"

Letting out a sigh, he saw the opening Aella was giving him. It was unusual, very unusual, he’d never imagined hearing her give anyone any sort of break like the one she was giving him now, which made him all the more frustrated about his behaviour. That it would affect her as much as she backed down from her usual efficiency, no doubt she’d found a reason to how efficient giving him more time to recover would be, but still, it worried him that it was that apparent to see that he still needed some recovering.

"We can speak of other things, if you need more time."

“No, no, I can be debriefed,” he insisted vehemently, giving her a glare for even suggesting that he couldn’t handle talking about it without throwing a tantrum. He wouldn’t budge on the matter, she’d either have to get out or debrief him. “Don’t give me any slack you wouldn’t give to anyone else,” he pointed out, his teeth gritted and sounding more than a little annoyed.

Waiting around wouldn’t make it any better and in truth he wanted to get on with it now. Dragging it out would just make it worse, despite if it got done when he was in a more stable state when it came to his emotions. Getting it over and done with seemed like the best course to take, better than him lying around thinking about it constantly.

"No, no, I can be debriefed."

The man could be incredibly perverse sometimes in his responses. Aella knew full well Wes often found her officious public demeanor to be somewhat irritating. Yet when she attempted to set aside her normal facade and deal with him on a more personal level, he acted resentful towards her as a result. This was far from the first time Aella had found the Corellian's behavior to be inherently paradoxical, and she doubted it would be the last. Early on in their relationship, she had wondered how he could be so effective at his job with such a mindset; eventually, she had come to suspect his success as an intelligence operative may potentially be a direct result of same.

"Don’t give me any slack you wouldn’t give to anyone else."

If Wes wanted to refuse to use the escape hatch she had made available to him, Aella wasn't about to stand in his way. Arguing with him on such things rarely proved to be efficient or worthwhile anyways. Lifting a silver brow slightly at his vehemence, the Grand Admiral allowed her hand to fall away from her friend's shoulder. "As you wish, Director." Subtle emphasis was placed on the man's title, signaling her switch back to a more 'professional' mindset for dealing with him.

Turning away from him then, Aella located the extra chair left in the room for any potential visitors, moving it over to Wes'--Loran's--bedside and settling herself down within its confines. She might be there for a while, after all, so there was no reason not to make herself relatively comfortable in the meantime. Her hands folded themselves together primly in her lap, her spine remaining held as stock straight as normal. It wasn't so much her trying to impress anyone but instead habit that kept it that way. After four decades serving in the military, holding herself in such a position was second nature to her now.

"Contact was lost with your squad at 0853 hours," she began, her green eyes once again cool and unreadable as she looked upon him. "The other members of it were found dead during our abbreviated search for you. It appeared you had been ambushed by some superior force. We could not determine more before the Wookiee uprising required us to evacuate our ground forces from the planet." The beginning was always a good place to start such proceedings.

"From there, you were transported to the Confederate flagship Atonement and taken to Dolomar. That is the extent of the information we were able to retrieve about the conditions of your detainment--other than your exact location on the planet, obviously." Aella was not about to ask him any details regarding the interrogation methods of the Dolomarians; she knew what had been done to Loran from a medical standpoint. "Please proceed in elucidating me as to what took place."

"As you wish, Director."

Wes’ eyes narrowed at that, back to business again, but he refrained to comment on it other than the obvious signs he was showing. No need to give her more grief than he already had. He never liked giving his friends a hard time, even when he was feeling moody. He very much did consider Aella a friend, even if she seemed to prefer that it be hidden in public, which Wes wasn’t happy with at all. He was a demonstrative person when it came to his friends, he liked showing his emotion if they were good emotions. He’d always been a very merry individual, with no qualms about publicly showing his ties to people.

“Where’s March?” He suddenly said, trying to hide the flinch at uttering the name. There were some bad points with naming your pet after your brother, especially in the case that the brother in question turned on everything you though he stood for.

“You’ve been taking care of him, haven’t you?” He demanded, wanting to find out how March had been doing. He actually hadn’t been thinking of his beloved tailring while in captivity, but in his solitude in the infirmary, he’d realised why he’d been so happy with having the little critter around. “What have you been feeding him? He’s picky.” He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

”We could not determine more before the Wookiee uprising required us to evacuate our ground forces from the planet."

“Wookiee uprising?” He asked with interest, raising both eyebrows in disbelief. “Well, not a move we’d anticipated, that’s for sure.” He let out a deep laugh, finding the whole thought of the wookiees fighting everyone off rather amusing. The wookiees always could hold their own, it seemed even despite the fact that the Alliance had been defending them, they hadn’t appreciated it. Well, now they’d have to send down an ‘official’ negotiating team to see if they couldn’t appease the wookiees, it was a bad idea to have them on their bad side.

”That is the extent of the information we were able to retrieve about the conditions of your detainment--other than your exact location on the planet, obviously."

Looking thoughtful, he mulled her words over. In truth, he couldn’t remember much other than brief flashes of consciousness, and those had been in a cell, with the occasional glimpse of a Confederate soldier getting ready to knock him out again. They’d kept him more or less unconscious during the whole process of moving him, mostly to prevent him from trying anything funny. By the seven hells of Corellia, when he’d been conscious, he’d sworn to give them hell.

"Please proceed in elucidating me as to what took place."

“I don’t remember much from being on the Atonement, only way I knew I was even on a ship was by how I could feel the deck vibrating from the engines. Moments of consciousness were brief and far apart. They obviously wanted to keep me quiet during the trip,” he trailed off. His voice was detached, as he tried to remember without calling forth the emotions that accompanied them.

“When I first came to on Dolomar, I was in their interrogation room. Wearing rather unfashionable coveralls,” he joked, pressing a smile on his face and a brief laugh out. He quickly sobered up. “After that, just them asking questions, me not telling them anything, the torture and…” He cut himself off, a small pathetic strangled sound coming from his throat.

"Where's March? You’ve been taking care of him, haven't you?"

Aella raised a thin silver brow at the inquiry, looking thoroughly nonplussed at the potential insinuation that she may have somehow forgotten about the creature. She never lost track of details, especially the important ones. "Of course I have. He's in my quarters at present." Admittedly, they couldn't properly be called 'quarters' when they were groundside, but old habits were hard to break. It was bad enough to her mind that she had to stay on a particular planet for so long as to require sleep to begin with. "That is, if he hasn't managed to get out again. I swear you've taught him how to slice locks."

As she continued to speak, internally the Grand Admiral analyzed her friend's peculiar reaction when he had named his pet. It could have merely been a coincidental spasm of pain... but Aella didn't trust coincidences. They were inherently suspicious to her mind until thoroughly proven otherwise. Still, there was no reason she knew of why bringing up the tailring would bother Loran--Wes--enough to provoke a visible response from him. It was likely he would tell her eventually if it was at all important; they had few, if any, real secrets from eachother at this point.

"What have you been feeding him? He’s picky."

"Believe me, I am well aware of this by now," she assured Wes dryly. The tailring's finicky habits had only grown all the more so with the absence of his owner. While March was accustomed to Aella's presence due to her close relationship with the Corellian, he by no means preferred it. "I've given March what I've seen you feed him in the past, along with anything else he wanted that I was absolutely certain wouldn't make him sick." The fact she had been forced to research such esoteric matters as her friend's pet's food tolerances still struck Aella as alternately annoying and amusing.

"Wookiee uprising? Well, not a move we’d anticipated, that’s for sure."

A faint smile graced Aella's lips at the sound of Wes'--Loran's--laughter. Even though she was moving back into her 'business' mode of thinking, she found the sound of it to be quite welcome nonetheless. "Neither did the Confederates, if their own haste to vacate the area was anything to go by." Part of the Grand Admiral was still distinctly unsatisfied she had not been allowed to properly crush the Dolomarian fleet with the help of their new Mandalorian allies. "We have not as of yet sent any diplomats to the planet," she continued without pause, anticipating his patterns of thought. "The Director of Communications thought it would be better to... 'let the restless natives settle down first' was I believe the phrase used."

"Moments of consciousness were brief and far apart. They obviously wanted to keep me quiet during the trip."

The older woman gave a small nod, filing this fact away for later retrieval. That was standard Confederate procedure with dealing with wartime prisoners of interest, from what she recalled. An efficient precaution, all things considered. Of course, normally they were to identify said prisoners first... which meant either they'd already known who Loran was or they'd determined it somehow while he remained unconscious. Given the precise nature of the Director's kidnapping, Aella was inclined to believe the former. Admittedly, they could have been merely going by the rank insignia on the man's armor, which was no doubt what Loran had been referring to when he had blamed his capture on regulations.

"After that, just them asking questions, me not telling them anything, the torture and…"

It was of no surprise to Aella that Loran had not told his captors anything. She had never truly expected for a moment that he would be one to break. In fact, if we she were to have to choose which of the two of them would be more likely to crack under torture, she would have selected herself. Not that Aella believed herself capable of such a betrayal of their cause either, but the fact remained Loran was both more highly trained in resisting interrogation than her and had been in the Alliance longer than she had. Corellia was his home, after all; to her, it was just another planet under Alliance control and the current location of their main base of operations.

What did surprise her was that the Director cut himself off so abruptly in the middle of a sentence, as well as the strange sound he made when he did so. Aella allowed several seconds to pass with only the small sounds made by the medical monitors to fill the air, giving her friend the opportunity to continue his statement. When he seemed unwilling to do so, she quirked a brow at his silence. "And what?" He didn't want her to cut him any slack, and by the Force he was going to get exactly what he had demanded.

"And what?"

Wes clenched his fists, furiously looking straight ahead. Even the thought of his former brother brought an almost blinding rage to him, threatening to overcome his control barriers. His jaw clenched and he struggled to conjure up the words Aella needed from him, insisted to be given due to his own insistence. He was at a loss of how to go further on from that point in his explaining, he’d been dreading bringing it up at all, but he couldn’t hide any details, especially not details like this, despite the personal nature of it.

“And my brother showed up,” he finally pressed out, it sounding amazingly commonplace judging by his nonchalant tone of voice, which he’d somehow miraculously managed to pull off.

“March, that is,” he explained, for he’d had two brothers, but now in his mind he only truly had one, that that one was dead, he knew, because he’d seen Athan die before his own eyes. “I thought he was dead, it happened before the final assault on Corellia. His cruiser, damaged by attacks from the Confederation, crashed on the surface of a small moon. Reports indicated that the cruiser had been completely destroyed, no chance that anyone who hadn’t evacuated had survived. We assumed that he hadn’t managed evac because no one mentioned him leaving the bridge before them, and a lot of bridge crew was on the last escape vessel.”

He lay back down on the bed from his sitting position, pressing the pillow down forcefully as he closed his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts. “I thought it was some torture induced hallucination at first, speculated that I might be dead, but I realised soon that was just my brain trying to explain why my brother, a fighter for Corellia, was in the midst of a Confederation bunker.” He sounded terribly resigned, all the anger drained from him, and now just quietly accepting betrayal. “He was bitter, felt we’d abandoned him, he wasn’t making sense. It was easy to find out he’d been chewing on the luna-weed for too long a time now, I couldn’t convince him that the Confederation had covered up pretty much any chance to let us save him.”

He fell silent, keeping the fate of what had happened to his brother secret. Aella didn’t have to know that Wes had strangled the last bit of life out of him, like the filthy betrayer deserved. Insane or not, he’d turned on his homeworld, on his family, on the ideals they held.

"And my brother showed up."

For the second time in as many months, Aella was taken by complete and utter surprise by something another person said. Both silver brows flew upwards in response, then lowered severely as her mouth pressed itself into a firm line. To be fair, there was no way she could have realistically anticipated this event. Strictly speaking, it should have been impossible. She might have an incredible sense of intuition when it came to predicting her opponents' next moves, but Aella did not possess true precognition.

"March, that is... I thought he was dead, it happened before the final assault on Corellia..."

Aella nodded slightly as the Director of Intelligence explained the circumstances of his brother's alleged death. The information wasn't terribly necessary for him to convey, as she already knew most of it, but she was not about to interrupt him while he spoke now. Loran had told her about what had happened to his family a long time ago, and she had done some checking of her own into his background out of curiosity several years back. Under the circumstances, it had been perfectly reasonable to assume March Loran had perished in the crash.

Unfortunately, Aella's timing in when she chose to switch sides meant she'd not had the opportunity to hear about the 'rescue' of Loran's brother by the Confederation. During the final assault on Corellia, she had been enduring the 'hospitality' of the Dolomarians on their homeworld. That interrogation had not involved nearly as much torture as the one the Director had recently endured, but it was nothing resembling a pleasant memory to recall nonetheless. Wherever the Confederates had hidden March after brainwashing him, Aella had never come across any mention of him during her fifteen year tour of service with her hated enemies.

"He was bitter, felt we’d abandoned him, he wasn’t making sense. It was easy to find out he’d been chewing on the luna-weed for too long a time now, I couldn’t convince him that the Confederation had covered up pretty much any chance to let us save him."

Her index fingers steepled together in their habitual pose as Loran went into further detail regarding his interactions with his all too alive brother. Aella could not even begin to imagine what that had been like for her friend and comrade to deal with. Her mind rebelled at the thought of her even attempting to contemplate the hypothesis of her own brother turning up after twenty-five years on the other side of the fence. Valen's death had broken her heart, but his betrayal would have been even more painful to endure. "That is unfortunate," was all she managed to say in response, her voice quieter than normal.

Again she had the strange inkling that she should comfort the man, but the Grand Admiral had little experience and less skill in such things. Her intense green gaze momentarily fell away from him, dropping to the platinum band she wore on her right ring finger, before rising once more to Loran's face. "What did they ask you about? Did they appear to have any information about our plans, specific persons of interest, bases of operation... anything that would warrant greater caution on our part?" Her tone had returned to a more 'professional' register, though her eyes silently communicated some of her sympathy for the man.

"That is unfortunate,"

Wes gave a small sound of agreement, finding any words he could have said escaping his grasp. When it came to his brother, everything was still sore, but not because of the sorrow of loss, the anger of betrayal was the front figure in his mind. He’d mourned the loss for his brother all those years ago when he’d died, as far as Wes was concerned, March had been dead since then even now. The man he had seen on Dolomar was not his true brother.

”Anything that would warrant greater caution on our part?"

He waved a dismissing hand. In truth, nothing the Confederation had asked for had been very special. The usual interrogation questions, apparently they had settled for the questions that answers were more easily received. They’d declared the effort of torture useless on him, as they’d either break him entirely, in both mind and body, making any information he had the potential of knowing moot, as he wouldn’t be able to tell them, or not break him at all. In the end they’d settled for simple ‘aim to kill’ tactics, dragging it out, of course.

“I didn’t get the impression they knew something and were hiding it, and their questions to me were pretty ordinary. Common questions that everyone asks in a interrogation. In the end they seemed to give up, deciding just to kill me.” He shook his head. “They don’t know anything of interest, as far as I’m concerned.”

He lapsed into thoughtful quiet, before looking up at her again. “I heard we captured a fish in Coronet,” his tone was slightly edged; he obviously didn’t find the idea of a Fed putting their filthy feet on the surface of Corellia very appetising. “As a result of that, I think we should leave Corellia. The main headquarters, that is. We still need our cell. We’re endangering the civvies by being here. We need to find an out of the way place, somewhere they won’t think about looking, somewhere not so obvious.”

Bringing a hand up, he scratched his head, ruffling his hair even more than it already was. “I hear Rhen Var is nice this time of year.” He let out a dry chuckle when he thought about the icy planet. It was a perfect place, inhospitable with scattered abandoned buildings. They wouldn’t have to worry about surface structures giving them away if they used the ruins.

"In the end they seemed to give up, deciding just to kill me."

Anger snapped in those vivid green eyes, the cast of Aella's expression turning positively murderous for a heartbeat before she managed to compose herself again. While outwardly her calm returned, the fury in her heart did not dampen in the slightest. Just when she thought she could not possibly hate the Confederation any more than she already did, they went and did something like this to prove her wrong. The Grand Admiral was not much one for personal violence; she preferred the planning of battles and the execution of group tactics. However, if she were to ever be placed in the same room with one of those who had so hurt her friend, Aella would cheerfully snap their neck with her bare hands.

"They don’t know anything of interest, as far as I’m concerned."

"Good," the Grand Admiral replied quietly, still mulling over what had happened to Loran in her mind. Torture was a barbaric practice, in her opinion--not to mention it was a singularly inefficient method in extracting information from 'hard targets' such as Loran. The Dolomarians would have engaged in it on him more as a source of sick pleasure than anything else. No doubt they had intended on such being the method of his death as well. The lack of morals amongst the Confederation's leadership was truly disgusting. They would pay for what they had done, Aella vowed to herself. She would see to it.

"I heard we captured a fish in Coronet. As a result of that, I think we should leave Corellia."

Aella nodded slightly, not at all surprised Loran had managed to hear about that even while he was still confined to his bed and theoretically wasn't supposed to be doing any work at all. He always had ways of finding out information, one of the reasons he was so very good at his job. "A whole school of them, in fact, though only one of any significant rank." The same thoughts the Director was having now had crossed her mind when Loran's second had informed her of the rather blatant attempt by Confederate agents to infiltrate Corellia. "I agree; hiding in plain sight seems to have only gone so far for us."

"I hear Rhen Var is nice this time of year."

"As nice as it ever gets, yes," Aella retorted in dry amusement. "It's on the list of potentials I have compiled. As far as isolation goes, it's well suited." She pursed her lips as she contemplated some of the other entries on said list for a moment. "If we wanted to truly hide our construction of a base from outside viewers as thoroughly as possible, we could go for one of the water worlds, like Mon Calamari or Manaan. Then again, we'd have to go to a high degree of effort and expense to purchase or modify enough vehicles to use as submersibles."

Another second went by as she scrolled through the files on her cortical datasplint. "The fourth moon of Yavin is also isolated, and has pre-existing structures that could be utilized to conceal our installation, though its climate is not all that much more pleasant than Rhen Var's to work in. Hoth would be unexpected as well, but it's in the same sector as Bespin and so perhaps best avoided..."