Peace of Mind, Locked; Shay, Mac and Wes

[Wes Loran]

“Michael Cheydin, I thought I’d be seeing you as a corpse, not as the man who aided in my rescue.”

The words were oddly enough filled with humour, and the Director of Intelligence’s face held no malice towards the former enemy before him. When he’d first heard the name of the pilot who had aided in the retrieval of him on Dolomar, he’d reacted a bit with anger, but he’d managed to look past it and look at the facts. While Cheydin had not been his first choice for the job, it did fit, in a sort of twisted way.

“I’m glad though, I know better than anyone your feelings on the Confederation, unless you’re not the man I thought you were.”

Wes fixed the smuggler before him with a calculating gaze, giving the man a sad smile as the events of the past came back to him. He knew where Cheydin’s hate for the Confederation came from, and judging from what others in the ‘team’ had informed him of, it was easy to see even by people who didn’t know the intimate details around the development of that hate.

In truth, Cheydin probably had enough reason to hate the Alliance as well, but he’d been helpful enough to them in the past when Cheydin had given them a helping hand, not that Wes thought that hand had been given because Cheydin was kind. No, it wasn’t his nature that forced him to help operatives of the Alliance, it looked more like Cheydin had turned it into some twisted duty for himself.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” he finally said, getting back on track. “But I guess you already know what I’m going to say?” He let out a dry chuckle. Cheydin was uncanny sometimes in what he nearly seemed to know by instinct and Wes knew the man wasn’t stupid. Cheydin was heavily integrated in military, whether or not the man liked it or not. He knew the steps. The Cheydin family legacy wasn’t something you could escape easily.

Now that Wes thought about it, he was sure there were some Cheydin’s wandering around in the Alliance, but some had changed their names, some still kept the name, despite the ‘fall from grace’ one of their fold had gone through when he’d joined the Confederation, instead of staying home, plotting to overthrow the enemy. Sometimes family were too proud of their reputation to handle a simple thing as someone going the wrong way.

He didn’t know where this particular Cheydin’s family was though, but he suspected the smuggler in front of him would prefer not to know.

“A few years late, but,” Wes suddenly said. “Sorry about Soral’s death. She was a great woman.” ‘A great agent, too.’

[Mac Cheydin]

There Mac stood, before the Director of Intelligence himself. Last time he’d seen the man, he’d been unconscious and looked like he’d been through the seven hells of Corellia and back. Not a pleasant sight, but not unusual. Not in his line of work, at least, both past and present. Mac begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was glad the Director had come out of that pretty good, knowing the Confederation, it could have been much worse. He told himself he’d only been worried because he’d be in trouble if the Director happened to take the Final Jump on his ship.

“Michael Cheydin, I thought I’d be seeing you as a corpse, not as the man who aided in my rescue.”

He gave a shrug, successfully communicating his disinterest in the whole matter quite effectively, not that the Director would let that hinder him in his most likely incoming speech. Important people liked talking; maybe the sound of their own voice soothed them, or maybe they were just arrogant enough to think that most people wanted to listen to their gibberish. Mac wasn’t too bothered, wasn’t like he didn’t know what the Director would be bringing up first.

“But I guess you already know what I’m going to say?”

“That would be correct, Sir.” He stifled the sudden urge to salute, straighten, and stand more like a soldier ready for duty, not a smuggler weary of the world. He hated being in the Alliance base, he hated being near people who had that military authority you often found amongst the high ranking officers. It brought out old habits, old habits he’d tried to bury. He couldn’t wait until he could finally leave Corellia, it was a planet he didn’t want to be on, reminder of all he’d done wrong when he took the choice of joining the Confederation.

He was surprised the Director hadn’t said anything about that yet.

“Sorry about Soral’s death. She was a great woman.”

‘Spoke to soon,’ Mac gave the Director a bothered gaze, finding himself more than a little caught off guard by the sudden condolences from the man he’d only met once before, and the Director hadn’t exactly been lucid. Deciding not to fix the man with a glare and walk out, he gave a stiff nod.

“Yes, she was. Too bad you guys went and got her killed.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he’d just walked out, left the Director and stuffed the memories away once more. In the end Mac gave up, no use avoiding it, it would’ve caught up with him eventually, even if he’d managed to somewhat put it behind him.

“I had no idea,” he said simply, bringing a hand up and running it down his face. The Director would know what he meant.

[Shay Marin]

Some human beings liked the feeling of adrenaline surging in their veins. Others associated the sensation of their body preparing for fight-or-flight to be disorienting, even sickening, and avoided it whenever possible. For a Jedi, one could choose to allow the release of hormones into the bloodstream or not at their leisure, almost like flipping a biochemical switch. Most of them chose to keep that switch in the 'off' position, because adrenaline too often was a response to such dangerous emotions as anger or fear. It was best to not be tempted to do something rash by your biology, after all.

At the moment, Shay was having to lean heavily on that neurotransmitter switch to keep it closed. As much as the current situation would warrant such a 'rush' from a normal human being, she didn't need another distraction in her life at the moment. Even as she had rushed back to Coronet in response to the message she'd received on her comlink, Shay had done her best to make the hurried trip in as much a state of calm as possible. Still... even she could not completely still her excitement, at least on a mental level. Everything she had worked for was all finally falling into place.

The trek down through the most deeply dug levels of the Alliance base took even longer than her prior trip to the infirmary had. The farther down she went, the more security picked up. Since she was still playing 'independent contractor' and didn't want to arouse any suspicion, Shay chose to go through all the mini-interrogations and scans as any normal person would have to, rather than just using her proficiency with stealth to slip past all the delaying roadblocks with none the wiser. The one exception came in regards to her lightsaber; she needed that for a 'visual aid', so to speak, and the Jedi Master made sure with a few deft touches of the Force that nothing biological or electronic picked up on its presence.

At least today her outfit didn't arouse so much suspicion; since she'd gone straight from her 'vacation' to her ship to here, she hadn't had the opportunity to get all 'dolled up' again for her well-off bounty hunter guise. No matter; the cream-colored flight suit, worn boots, and bulky brown leather jacket she'd donned before leaving the Lucidity fit her in far better amongst the Alliance personnel coming and going down the corridors. Some of them even nodded or smiled at her, casual greetings that 'Brin' returned in kind.

As was habitual for her on a world where the potential for Force Sensitives being present was high, Master Marin was keeping her 'presence' in the Force shrunk down to a microscopic size. Therefore, it wasn't until she was practically standing right outside the door to the Director's office that her passive Force perceptions started picking up on the emotions coming from inside it. Pausing for a moment at the door, Shay focused on trying to identify the second source of those rather familiar feelings--the first one most likely being the Director himself.

What she found after a few moments of concentration bothered her... probably more than it should. Frack it all! I didn't want him around for this meeting. Revealing herself to one Corellian was going to be tricky enough to handle. Potentially having Mac around as a particularly volatile audience didn't sit well with her, for multiple reasons. No help for it sister. Do what you came here to do so you can go home. The advice of Shay's inner voice was eminently practical. After all, it's not like 'Brin Trell' should know someone else was currently seeing Loran, and her loitering outside under these circumstances would strike others as suspicious to say the very least.

Steeling herself against what was to come, Shay reached out and keyed open the unlocked door. As was her habit as 'Brin', she began stepping inside the portal even before the doors had finished sliding back into the walls. Her long legs carried her a few strides into the room before she 'realized' Loran had company. A carefully constructed expression of surprise flitted over her angular features, followed by no small amount of chagrin. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't realize you were already in a meeting." A rueful smile curved her lips as her amber gaze focused first on the Director. "Guess I should've knocked." Then her eyes slid over to the other Corellian in the room, where Shay allowed a small amount of her concern for him to filter into her regard. "Is... this a bad time? I can leave if it is..."

[Wes Loran]

“Yes, she was. Too bad you guys went and got her killed.”

Wes winced. ‘Brutal.’ Cheydin’s bitter voice seemed like it could slice durasteel. It seemed the man did have a fair amount of emotions still attached to the former Alliance agent that Wes had been using as his source of information on the Confederation. Understandable. Wes hadn’t known about the strings attached when he’d assigned Soral to the task, hadn’t known she’d married a Confederation soldier. Later he heard though, but couldn’t do much about it. What was done was done.

“I had no idea,”

He donned a sad smile. “She hadn’t joined the Alliance when she married you; she came to us after that. You knew where her allegiance was, didn’t you? You knew she hated the Confederation?” He briefly wondered why he was talking about this to the man at all, but he assumed he felt he needed to calm the man down before he let him walk out of the office.

When he heard the office door slide open, he directed his attention there, ready to yell at whoever was interrupting, but stopped himself when he saw it was Brin Trell, the woman Sheri had brought aboard. He stifled the vague feeling of annoyance that came, and glanced up at Cheydin, wondering briefly if the smuggler wanted to continue the conversation or leave. He could easily ask the new arrival to wait outside.

"Guess I should've knocked."

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we usually do,” he said dryly, shuffling some papers on his desk absently. He glanced up at Mac, trying to gauge the smuggler’s reaction to their interruption. The smuggler seemed oddly calm, more blank really, but Wes could see some of how the smuggler was feeling by looking at his body language. Clearly told him the smuggler wasn’t exactly happy about Trell’s entrance.

"Is... this a bad time? I can leave if it is..."

He waved a hand towards the door, giving Trell a pointed look. “Knock next time.”

[Mac Cheydin]

”You knew she hated the Confederation?”

Before Mac could answer, the door slid opened, his attention turning briefly to the woman who entered, a curse echoing in his head. ‘Perfect.’ Brin sure had a habit of popping in when he didn’t want her there, first Tatooine, then Taanab, and now the Director’s office. He would have let out a sigh if he hadn’t been so annoyed.

He saw Wes’ brief annoyance at the interruption, but didn’t move to make any dismissing moves towards Brin, neither did he move to leave himself. He wondered briefly what he should do, it was obvious anything official with the meeting had long ago been buried; it seemed the conversation was merely around Soral. Most likely the Director was feeling a bit guilty about her death, or maybe just morbidly curious as to how she died.

When he waved Brin away, Mac suddenly shook his head. “No need, Director.”

If anyone were leaving, Mac would, he needed to get going anyway, before he got assaulted in the halls for being a ‘Feddie’, or fish, as they seemed to be calling them here. They had a lot of turncoats in their ranks, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn on one who hadn’t ‘seen the light’. The Alliance always had an air of self-righteousness.

“To answer your question; no, I didn’t know. I didn’t know until it was too late, too late for both of us.” His tone carried a note of remorse, noting the foolishness of youth and bad choices inexperience wrought.

He turned to leave, giving Brin a stiff smile. Right before he exited the room entirely, he turned towards the Director again. “If you were wondering, she died by firing squad.” He gave a small, borderline pathetic shrug and he fixed his gaze on a point on the wall before he continued. “I would know, they made me watch.”

Then he turned again, this time exiting the room entirely, the door whooshing shut behind him, leaving the Director and Brin to their meeting.

[Shay Marin]

"Knock next time."

Some cover identities got to you more than others. As a Jedi, Shay was unfailingly polite towards strangers. However, Brin Trell from Telos didn't give a womprat's tail end about the majority of manners and other such civilized social conventions, and her long periods spent alone on board her ship made her forget most of the rest. She never knocked on an unlocked door, and was far more inclined to plead for forgiveness than ask permission. Even when she was so close to casting the shell of Brin aside and stepping forth into the metaphorical light, her instincts made her keep up appearances so long as any unwanted witnesses were nearby.

What better camouflage for a Jedi Master than to be unconsciously rude, right? Arranging her body language in such a way as to look fairly chastised by the older man's rebuke, Shay granted him a small, subdued nod. "Yes, sir." Her Brin Trell identity might be almost as cocky and self-confident as a stereotypical Corellian, but even she could easily admit when she'd done something wrong. As far as Shay's true self went, she regretted having chosen to interrupt at such a tense moment as well. The blonde woman was in the midst of turning back towards the door again when the other man in the room spoke up, freezing her in mid-motion.

"No need, Director."

Mac's words would have surprised her if Shay hadn't long ago given up on trying to anticipate his responses with any degree of accuracy. As it was, she simply maneuvered herself around again to face the other occupants in the room. Her hands slid into her jacket pockets in a casual stance as she listened to the rest of the smuggler's words in silence. If he didn't want her to leave, she wouldn't, despite Loran's annoyance with her.

Her concern only deepened as Mac responded to whatever question the Director had asked before she'd so abruptly entered the office. Connections between disparate pieces of information formed in her mind, as Shay began to comprehend just what the subject of discussion had to be. For once, Master Marin wished she wasn't quite so 'on the ball' with figuring things out. Continued ignorance would've been easier to deal with right now than discovering yet another reason for her heart to go out to the confounding Corellian.

"If you were wondering, she died by firing squad. I would know, they made me watch."

By the Force... no wonder he hates them so much. There was nothing she could do or say, or at least nothing she should... but how Shay wished things were otherwise. Wishing wasn't about to do her any good though--or him, for that matter. Knowing how poorly Mac tolerated any actions that resembled overt compassion, the blonde woman kept the depth of her sympathy for him confined to her eyes alone. Even her formidable acting skills weren't good enough under the circumstances to bring forth a smile on her lips to answer his own parody of the expression.

After the smuggler had left the room, Shay continued to stare after him for several beats in silence, even after the door had closed behind him. "He was talking about his wife," she murmured softly, more to herself than to the other person in the room. Her words were definitely not a question, but a statement. A small sigh eased out between her lips. Well, you'd wanted to know, nosy person that you are. Now that you do, you're going to have to learn to live with it. The revelation was not a pleasant one, and not the sort of final words of farewell she'd wanted to hear from him before they parted company once more. It's likely better this way. Before he has reason to wonder where his 'stalker' went again, you'll be long gone.

With a mental effort, Master Marin pulled herself out of her musings and forced herself to get back on track. The mission had to be the most important thing now, not her feelings towards Mac. "I have to say," she began in a more conversational tone, "when my timing's bad, it's absolutely atrocious." Smirking in self-depreciation, 'Brin' turned back towards Loran and approached his desk. "Again, I'm sorry about that, Director. It's good to see you well, sir."

[Wes Loran]

“No need, Director.”

Wes raised both eyebrows, finding the turn of events both interesting and rather mystifying. Everything he’d seen of Cheydin had pointed to a man who valued his privacy, one who wouldn’t speak of such close personal events in front of a stranger. ‘Or is she a stranger?’ He fixed his gaze on Brin briefly, but returned it to the smuggler as Cheydin answered his questions.

”I didn’t know until it was too late, too late for both of us.”

He gave a slow nod, glad that Cheydin had deemed it appropriate to share the knowledge with Wes. He hadn’t expected an answer at all, and never one sounding so personal as that, but he was somewhat glad that Soral’s choice in husband had wrought another one opposing the Confederation cause, despite her sacrifice of her life. From what he gathered, they’d lived a good life until Soral’s side business had been discovered.

However, he couldn’t conjure up any words as a response to that, but as it happened, silence seemed like the best answer if anything. Cheydin wasn’t a man who wanted sympathies, nor did he want someone’s pity for a woman long dead. He’d handled the loss years ago, it had been quite unfair for Wes to dig it up in the first place, but he’d been curious. Soral had always been someone Wes could’ve trusted, he’d been considering a promotion for her when he’d heard she’d been killed.

“I would know, they made me watch.”

He stiffened when he heard the news, an expression of pure fury blossoming. It was one thing killing an enemy agent, but making someone with the emotional attachments watch was barbaric. He was sure Cheydin hadn’t known his who his wife was working for before the Confederation arrived to drag her off. Cheydin had most likely been under a fair amount of scrutiny himself.

Wes endured several moments of silence after the smuggler left, calming himself. Cheydin sure knew how to make an exit.

"He was talking about his wife,"

He sent her a curious glance, her quick deduction of what they’d been talking about told him she knew something of the smugglers past. He didn’t know the link between the two, but he would think they’d worked together before, as the team to Dolomar had trusted the smuggler enough to enlist his services.

”It's good to see you well, sir."

“Most of the credit goes to you,” he said, a small smile crossing his features as he distanced himself from the topic of Soral, finding only anger boiling up when he would prefer to avoid that emotion for today.

“I heard you wanted to speak to me,” he finally said. “So, what is it?” He gestured with his hand towards the chair in front of his desk as he spoke.

[Shay Marin]

"Most of the credit goes to you."

In what Loran would no doubt find a rather surprising display of humility, 'Brin' gave a small shrug of her shoulders at the praise. "A number of people deserve credit for your rescue, Director, as much as myself if not more so." Now that she was alone with the man to whom she intended to confess her true nature, she saw little reason for keeping up much in the way of pretense any longer. Not to mention that her sense of modesty would not permit her to accept so much praise without objection. "And the credit for your excellent recovery rests squarely on the shoulders of the Alliance's best doctors." Truly, Shay thought they had performed something of a minor miracle, restoring Loran to health as well as they had without the aid of the Force.

"As for the part I played in the operation... well, I was glad to be of service." Shay offered the man behind the desk a faint, but sincere smile. No doubt she would be throwing the man somewhat 'off' in his previous estimations of her right now, but it couldn't be avoided. Besides, after spending so much time lying to everyone around her, the Jedi Master wanted nothing more than to be absolutely honest with someone who deserved the truth. More likely than not, Loran wasn't going to be especially pleased with the revelation of her true identity. That also could not be avoided, but she would repay him the best she could by refusing to dissemble in his presence now.

"I heard you wanted to speak to me. So, what is it?"

Shay gave a small nod in acknowledgment of his statement. "I did, sir. In fact, I've wanted to speak to you for a long time now." Allowing that somewhat enigmatic statement to hang in the air for a bit, the blonde woman busied herself with accepting Loran's offer of a seat. She settled down into the chair gracefully, Shay's hands coming to rest in her lap. For a small increment of time, she merely met the Director's gaze in silence, her amber eyes calm and unreadable even to someone of Loran's preternaturally observant nature. What would take place within the next minute or two was of vital importance, for it would likely shape the course of events for months, if not years to come.

"Though maybe in a way it would be easier to show you rather than merely tell. Just a second..." Careful to move in a smooth and casual away that would not cause Loran any undue alarm, Shay reached inside her bulky leather jacket, working to unfasten something from within it. The jacket was just one of the many loose garments she favored wearing explicitly because it was so easy to conceal particular items within its folds. Withdrawing a matte black metallic cylinder from its confinement, Shay held the lightsaber hilt up for the Director's inspection.

This was an undoubtedly intelligent man she was dealing with, someone who made it his life's calling to know all manner of things. The Jedi Master doubted she would have to provide an explanation as to the identity of the object. Shay was glad of that, since she'd prefer to avoid having to ignite the blade in demonstration. She didn't want Loran to think she posed a current threat to his person. Admittedly, attempting to harm him now wouldn't make sense after all she'd been through on his behalf. Then again, fear was not a rational emotion.

With the familiar weight of her personal weapon back in her hand, Shay allowed every last remnant of her 'Brin' persona to drop away. Her posture subtly altered, drawing a bit straighter, her shoulders pulling back as she balanced her body's weight more evenly on the seat. When she spoke again, her voice contained a note of underlying authority that had not been there before. "I regret the necessity of my deception up to this point, Director Loran. I beg your forgiveness for it. However, it was imperative I not allow for any possibility that the Confederation might catch wind of the Jedi Council's interest in speaking to the leaders of the Alliance."

[Wes Loran]

"And the credit for your excellent recovery rests squarely on the shoulders of the Alliance's best doctors."

Wes raised an eyebrow, being humble was not a trait he’d expect someone like Trell to have, but the beings in the galaxy came in many forms. Her sudden change of attitude, however, told him there was something else in this; she didn’t seem the same as she’d been when she’d first entered the office. As beings had different reasons to act as they did, he didn’t take it as anything suspicious at the moment. It often happened that someone posed as someone else, for various reasons.

“Yes, a little bit of a miracle, if I don’t say so myself.” He chuckled. “If only they had a few more of those lying around.” He cocked his head to the side as Trell continued to speak, listening to her words but coming with little response. In all honesty, he didn’t have much to say.

"I did, sir. In fact, I've wanted to speak to you for a long time now."

With an interested gleam appearing in his eyes, he leaned forward on the desk, placing his elbows on the edges as he regarded her. Her words felt rather cryptic to him, and the calm way she seemed to be staring at him, not showing any emotion, not in her eyes or her body language. This set of a small alarm in his head, something was going on, but he didn’t have a chance of guessing what it was.

"Though maybe in a way it would be easier to show you rather than merely tell. Just a second..."

He watched as her hand went up to her jacket and reached for something inside it. Her slow motions gave him the impression that she was trying not to spook him, but whether or not she had a blaster hidden under there was a mystery to him. He was at a certain disadvantage, but that scenario was slightly cliché in his head, something you’d see in a bad holofilm, not real life, even if it probably happened now and again. He remained calm though, he’d had worse things pointed at him than a mere blaster, but then again, it might not be a blaster.

The uncertainty of the situation was overwhelming, which was why Wes decided to keep from doing anything sudden. If she really wanted to shoot him, she would have tried to get into his infirmary room and shot him there. Surely that was the most effective solution for him to wind up dead. Anyway, his mind quickly came to the conclusion that if she wanted him a cold dead corpse, she wouldn’t have gone through the effort of getting him out of the Confederations hands, that was just a waste of time, effort and, most likely, blood.

When he saw the long cylindrical object he recognised it immediately, but remained still, eyeing the thing with a certain amount of disinterest and disdain. He leaned back into his chair, a movement that might have looked like an attempt to get away from the weapon, but in truth, he just had a kink in his back that was bothering him from sitting in the position he’d been in.

“I see,” he murmured.

”However, it was imperative I not allow for any possibility that the Confederation might catch wind of the Jedi Council's interest in speaking to the leaders of the Alliance."

He held up a hand, waving away her apology looking a little resigned. “I understand, the Alliance has done that a few times as well.” He felt a bit mystified that the Jedi would seek them out at all. The impressions he’d gotten from them and their official standing was that they’d rather keep out of the galactic business. Sure, they’d once been defenders of the galaxy, but now they were nothing more than an old religion, keeling from ancient blows.

As far as Wes was concerned, they were nearing extinction.

“So your Council finally decided to crawl out from under that rock of yours?” His words were mocking, clearly showing what he thought about their neutrality in the war.

‘Protectors of the galaxy, sure.’

“Get to the point,” he said gruffly. “What does your Council want with the Alliance?”

[Shay Marin]

"I understand, the Alliance has done that a few times as well."

As soon as Shay knew Loran had recognized her weapon for what it was, she immediately set to putting it back under her jacket. The 'visual aid' had served its purpose, obviously. While the Director didn't seem to be worried about her potentially using it on him, there was no need to keep it drawn any longer. The Jedi Master inclined her head slightly at his dismissal of her apology. His reaction to her revelation was one of the more positive ones she had envisioned possibly playing out, and she was thankful for that fact. Despite her covert method of garnering a private meeting with him, she didn't enjoy having tricked the man and his comrades so thoroughly. It was just her job.

"So your Council finally decided to crawl out from under that rock of yours?"

Master Marin met Loran's mocking words with a mild lift of her brows. This was another expected response from him, and one she understood even while disagreeing with the meaning of his statement. Who knew how long this man had been fighting for his homeworld's freedom? By the looks of him, he could well be old enough to have participated in the original war as a combatant. Shay didn't expect him to be one to accept the Order's reasons for refusing to become involved when Dolomar had originally attacked Corellia. "I wouldn't put it quite that way," she responded calmly, not appearing at all offended by what he had said but not giving up any ground to him either.

"Get to the point. What does your Council want with the Alliance?"

"Of course, Director." Shay folded her hands together in her lap as she met his gaze evenly across the expanse of his desk. There were more than physical divides separating the two of them now, and she was uncertain whether she was up to bridging them all. Still, she had to try. Truthfully, she believed she liked this man, both from what she'd seen of him thus far and from the effects he'd had on others. For reasons both personal and professional, she had no desire to be on his bad side. "We want to help you."

That was another revelation in a series, and one she expected he'd be as surprised by as he was by the truth of her identity. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as Shay continued to watch him, both visually and through the Force. She knew full well how intently she was being watched in turn, but still she didn't bother to conceal the amusement that briefly flared in her eyes. "Believe me, the orders I was given before I left Ossus were a great deal more wordy than what I just said, but that's what it all boils down to in the end."

Both her sense of humor and her smile vanished then, the cast of her features growing solemn as she continued. "Mandalore changed a lot of people's minds back home, Director. It was made clear to us that remaining neutral was no longer a viable or ethical option. Even the most conservative of our number had to recognize that fact. The Confederation has to be stopped." Truly, this was a viewpoint she had held all her life, but had been constrained by her duty to the Order from acting upon. Now at last the balance of opinion in the Council had shifted in her favor. It was very gratifying to her, after so many years of waiting and holding her tongue, to have a hand in changing the situation for the better.

[Wes Loran]

"I wouldn't put it quite that way,"

Wes let out a snort at that, shaking his head slightly. ‘You wouldn’t, but you’re the Jedi in the room.’ Her point of view was wholly different than his, she’d lived with the Jedi her whole life, he had lived a world filled with strife and war, while the Jedi sat patiently in their seats on Ossus debating. He did hold the Jedi’s lack of action against them, while he did not relish war at all, their inability to act as the defenders they supposedly were disappointed a whole lot of people who invested their lives in the fighting.

One would think Jedi would be wise enough to see that this fight wouldn’t end until one was crushed beneath the heel of oppression or the other was defeated and cast away. How it was now clearly told Wes that the fighting would continue throughout his life and beyond, even if he died of old age. Currently no one was showing signs of wanting to give up, the Mandalorian’s had just gotten involved, meaning that they had more to fight with against the Confederation.

"We want to help you."

He laughed at that, slamming his palm against the desk as if she’d just told a joke, but the laughter wasn’t humorous. It sounded cold and rather mocking. He gestured at her vaguely. “So, what you’re saying is, after thirty-five years of sitting on their nicely padded council chairs watching the galaxy, they’ve finally decided to do something?” He shook his head another bark of a laugh escaping. “About kriffing time!”

"Believe me, the orders I was given before I left Ossus were a great deal more wordy than what I just said, but that's what it all boils down to in the end."

Shifting slightly in his seat he cracked his fist slightly, wiggling his formerly broken fingers. Still they hurt at times, still healing from the beating they’d taken, but he wasn’t going to lose the use of them anytime soon. They’d have to fall off before that happened.

“That sounds like a familiar setting,” he murmured, thinking to how the High Council of the Alliance themselves had a tendency to come with long drawn out things rather than a simple statement. War was never simple, however, and so their orders couldn’t remain simple.

”The Confederation has to be stopped."

Wes directed his gaze at her, something dangerous alight in his eyes as she spoke the words. A grim, vicious smile settled on his lips as he leaned towards her, elbows resting once again on the desk before him.

“I’m happy you’ve come around to our way of thinking.” His tone of voice and expression was enough to describe what he wanted to do with each Fed he got his hands on.

[Shay Marin]

"So, what you’re saying is, after thirty-five years of sitting on their nicely padded council chairs watching the galaxy, they’ve finally decided to do something? About kriffing time!"

The Jedi Master endured the Alliance leader's obvious scorn without even the slightest sign of upset. Again, his reactions were predictable, and it was far from the first time she had heard those outside the Order express such opinions. She'd long ago purged the defensive urge to attempt to defend her people in these circumstances. The Order did not need its members to act as apologists. "I don't intend to argue with you on this particular subject, sir," Shay remarked, her tone as respectful as it was firm. "Debating the past will get neither of us anywhere. We will each continue to hold our own point of view on it. What I'm here for is to deal with the present."

"That sounds like a familiar setting."

Shay didn't have a response to his words, but she did to his actions. Her eyes moved to consider his hand as he flexed it, concern darkening the amber to a deeper shade of brown. She remembered clearly the condition it had been in when she'd rescued him. From the way the Corellian moved the fingers now, it was obvious he was in at least some small lingering amount of pain. An offer to help immediately formed on her tongue, but she resisted the urge to voice it. While he'd been thankful for her past assistance, she didn't know if he'd welcome more of it now that Loran knew exactly what she was. His opinion of Jedi had certainly proved to be a low one indeed.

"I’m happy you’ve come around to our way of thinking."

Oh, the sheer irony of it all: to be a Dolomarian sitting across the table from one of the leaders of the Alliance while he said that. Even if she hadn't already been an empath, his emotions at that particular moment would have come across to her as loud as if he'd shouted his words. Would he look that way at her again when he found out about her heritage? She had no doubt he would learn about it sooner or later. He was the Director of Intelligence, after all. "You could say that," she equivocated, repressing the anger in her that was an echo of his own before it could rise to the surface. On this particular subject, she could empathize with his feelings all too much.

"Steps must still be taken before we can assist you as openly as we wish, however. If the Order were to openly declare our allegiance to the Alliance at this point, undoubtedly the Confederates would respond with immediate military action." Shay's eyes narrowed slightly, the only outer indication of her intense feelings on that point. The thought of Ossus enduring the same treatment as Mandalore... well, it was likely best she not dwell on that idea for very long. "There are a large number of children and young adults in the Order, and they must be thoroughly out of harm's way first."

"The evacuation of the Coruscant temple should already be completed by now. I say should not because I doubt the abilities of the individual in charge of seeing to the operation, but because I have not had the opportunity to receive word from my people since I began my own mission." Operational security wasn't only something the Alliance concerned itself with. She'd been totally out of communication with the Order since the last time she'd arrived on Corellia to meet with Elina. They would know she was alive, thanks to the Force bonds she had forged with a few of her fellow Jedi, but they wouldn't have any clue as to what she'd been up to other than that.

"After that, the next step in the plan was to evacuate Ossus as well, and bring all the noncombatants to a secure location." Anticipating a potential question from Loran, Master Marin shrugged her shoulders slightly. "They had not decided on precisely where when I left, so I will have to find that out when I return. While that will take some time to accomplish, in the interim those of the Order who are well versed enough in how to avoid detection shall be made available to your cause." Another faint smile curved her lips. "As I have proven to you, some Force users are in fact capable of being subtle."

[Wes Loran]

"You could say that,"

Wes leaned back again, making an effort to calm himself. He’d always been very insistent when speaking about the Confederation and methods of defeating them, but after recent events he grew livid at the mere mention of them. Most of the time he kept himself nice and neatly bottled up, leaving those emotions behind to vent them later in the sims, but there were the times where everything simply bubbled over. He was not one to let his emotions take the upper hand when it came to official business, despite who was involved.

Maybe he needed a vacation.

”… The Confederates would respond with immediate military action."

He cleared his throat quietly, nodding his agreement. “This is correct. There’s a reason why we have very few open supporters, most who don’t pose a threat to the Confederation,” he stated, glad that his tone was now remaining neutral. “But the Jedi have the potential of becoming a thorn in their side.”

That was nothing but truth. They might be a dying race in the galaxy, but they did carry one hell of a punch when they decided to do something. History proved that to everyone who happened upon the Jedi chapter of it. While now they weren’t as numerous as before, they didn’t have any less power when it came to the Force. They knew how to interpret its mystical powers, how to wield it. In their own words, however, they merely were the tool of the Force.

”… I have not had the opportunity to receive word from my people since I began my own mission."

“You seem to have kept your cover well, a sign of an excellent Intelligence agent,” he praised, finding the words odd to him. To think he’d be sitting in his officer praising a Jedi on her work on infiltrating the Alliance. His younger self would be horrified, but desperate times led to desperate things. The Wes that had emerged from the years of serving the Alliance and struggling against the Confederation had learned that sometimes odd things and compromises were needed.

"They had not decided on precisely where when I left, so I will have to find that out when I return.”

He held up a hand, shaking his head. “The location of your new base can remain the secret of your Council. I don’t have a need to know, nor do I want to know. Unless your Council sees a benefit in me knowing, Jedi can stick to Jedi business.” As far as he was concerned, the Jedi’s secret hideout was their business, just like the locations of the Alliance bases was the Alliance’s business.

"As I have proven to you, some Force users are in fact capable of being subtle."

Wes let a small smile cross his features, hiding his true elation at this news. To think they were willing to get involved, and even offer the services of those who could give it. This would breed a whole new method of working in the field, Jedi agents had to work differently from normal agents, as no doubt the woman before him knew from experience. Allies that could promise help from the Force itself were valuable, and while Wes was still sore about their inaction, things were quickly turning for the better.

Maybe Jedi weren’t so bad after all.

“I assume you will have to report back to your Council? This will have to be planned out; I’ll provide you with means of communicating securely with us. I reassure you that you can trust our lines to be completely secure, the Confederation won’t catch a whiff of this.” He searched through a drawer in his desk. “I’ll be the only one who knows of this, for now, both for the sake of security and the sake of the Alliance. The Jedi joining our case is a thing that will bring hope to the troops, but if something goes wrong, false hope can be dangerous.”

He pulled out a datapad, sliding it over the desk towards the Jedi.

“Ask for me once you call, I don’t think I’ll trust this in the hands of Communications, this is more Intelligence business.”

[Shay Marin]

"You seem to have kept your cover well, a sign of an excellent Intelligence agent."

Shay allowed a true smile to form on her lips at this. "Coming from you, Director, that's quite a compliment. Thank you." The inherent strangeness of the situation was not lost on her. Effectively, Loran was complimenting her on how well she had infiltrated his organization. It was something of a pleasant surprise that the man was not resentful of the Jedi's deception. Shay would have accepted such as only her due for what she had done, but it seemed Loran was very much the pragmatist at heart. Another trait of his she could appreciate, as she'd acquired a very 'realist' perspective on the world over the years.

"Technically speaking, my official title is 'investigator', but obviously what I do for the Order is about more than mere fact finding," she added wryly. In an odd way, Shay found Loran to be something of a kindred spirit to her, more so than many of her fellow Jedi. After all, the sort of work they each did for their respective causes was rather similar. She could appreciate his methods, and he apparently accepted hers as well. As Gandon's told me more than once, we're a breed apart.

"The location of your new base can remain the secret of your Council. I don’t have a need to know, nor do I want to know. Unless your Council sees a benefit in me knowing, Jedi can stick to Jedi business."

The blonde woman inclined her head again in acceptance of Loran's words. "Fair enough." In a way, she was grateful for his unwillingness to know. The Council may have found it acceptable to inform the Alliance of their new base of operations, but undoubtedly they would prefer it if it was not required. Shay knew she preferred it. Not that she didn't trust the Director to a certain extent; after all, it would not be in the Alliance's best interests to reveal the location of the Order's safe haven to their enemies. Shay didn't doubt the information would be safe with Loran under these circumstances. Still, the less potential for a leak, the better.

"I assume you will have to report back to your Council?"

"Yes, Director. I intend on leaving for Ossus as soon as we're finished here." There was no more reason for delay, no cause to dally on Corellia any longer. With her patience having finally paid off, Shay could go home. Never had the prospect seemed so appealing to her. She was so tired inside, strained with the burden of all the different people she had to be. She wanted the opportunity to not have to pretend for a while.

"I’ll be the only one who knows of this, for now, both for the sake of security and the sake of the Alliance. The Jedi joining our cause is a thing that will bring hope to the troops, but if something goes wrong, false hope can be dangerous."

"You have quite neatly anticipated my next request," Master Marin informed the man across the desk. Even as she had to control her own rush of enthusiasm at the prospect of fighting against the Confederation at last, her rational nature forced her to acknowledge that the need for caution still remained. "However, nothing will go wrong, Director. I won't allow that to happen." From some people this would sound like a joke, or perhaps a statement from sheer arrogance. In Shay's eyes, it was a pure and simple fact. Too much work had gone into getting her this far for her to let things fall apart now. She had to make the results of her efforts worth all the blood she'd had to shed along the way.

"Ask for me once you call, I don’t think I’ll trust this in the hands of Communications, this is more Intelligence business."

Leaning forward in her chair, Shay caught up the datapad in her hand, amber eyes dropping to consider it thoughtfully. "I understand. I'd prefer to work with you anyways." There were already too many people she'd formed connections with during her mission. Under the circumstances, it seemed only reasonable that she try to take advantage what was already there, for whatever it was worth. Besides, Loran would understand far better than anyone else in the Alliance her need for secrecy. After all, that was his job. From what she'd observed thus far, he was rather good at it. Her relative ease at accomplishing her infiltration had been more a result of circumstance--and the will of the Force--instead of any failings in his methods.

Lifting her gaze back up to him, she quirked an inquiring brow. "Is there anything else I can help you with before I leave, sir? Any questions I can answer?" Once again she considered flat out offering to heal him some more, but she thought that might be pushing their newly established 'working relationship' a bit too far. "I'm not quite certain when I will be back, but I will contact you as soon as I am able."

[Wes Loran]

"Yes, Director. I intend on leaving for Ossus as soon as we're finished here."

“I have no doubt you’re eager to return. You’ve been running around a lot here, that’s for sure,” Wes said, eyes glinting with humour as he chuckled a bit. “Your patience must be endless.”

Now that all the secrets had been revealed, Wes felt himself fairly happy with the situation. While not many were happy with the Jedi, he couldn’t bring himself to be bitter when a representative was sitting in his office promising aid from them. The Jedi herself was charming; someone Wes found himself liking rather than disliking, a change from his usual attitude towards Jedi. However, he’d keep himself fairly distant from Jedi business. He’d conscript their help, but he would not get involved in them.

”I won't allow that to happen."

He gave her a smile. “A common saying, but sometimes things just go wrong.”

He’d experienced that many times himself. Sometimes things didn’t go the way they were planned. There were countless dangers that threatened the fruition of their hatchling plans. Wes would do all he could to ensure the success, but sometimes everything wasn’t enough. He didn’t know those at the end of the line, he had no idea how the Jedi Council acted. He was sure the Jedi before him would ensure it, but sometimes surprises came when you least expected it.

”Any questions I can answer?"

“No.” He shook his head, standing up from his chair, wincing slightly as the sudden movement made his muscles protest, but he straightened quickly. “I don’t have anything you’d hold the answer to, unless you know the new passcodes into the Confederation Dolomar nest.” He gave her a grim smile, walking around his desk.

"I'm not quite certain when I will be back, but I will contact you as soon as I am able."

Giving her a dismissive gesture, he shook his head. “Take your time; you no doubt deserve some peace and quiet. I would appreciate if you didn’t leave me hanging though, I dislike being strung along.” He gave her a grin and a small wink.