Back from the Other Side

[Baastian Cain]

Continued from Proof of Loyalty (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?55611-Proof-of-Loyalty)

Imperial Knight Baastian Cain sat on an examination table, naked except for a pair of trunks supplied by one of the masked lab techs. A pair of PI-series (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/PI-series_medical_assistant_droid) medical droids hovered nearby, probing and scanning him with their myriad utility arms. One shone a bright light in his eyes and recorded the reaction of his pupils, then bobbed up and down, side-to-side to test his visual tracking. The other slipped a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm, and, once it was satisfied, tested the resistance of each of his limbs, one after another.

While the second droid attached electrode leads to his scalp to monitor his brain functions, the first hovered in front of him and spoke in a mechanized voice:

"PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME AND RANK."

"Baastian Cain, Imperial Knight First Class."

"DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?"

"That's classified, isn't it?" he deadpanned. The droid merely floated there. "I'm under the Citadel, in Imperial Centre."

"WHAT IS THE LAST THING YOU REMEMBER PRIOR TO WAKING UP HERE?"

Now, there was the real test, wasn't it? Emergency backups were always harder to piece together, sort of like the tail end of a dream just before you woke up. The most vivid image was a metro train bearing down on him as its brakes sparked and shrieked like a mechanical banshee.

"I was on Zeltros," he said. "Evaluating a candidate for the Knights. He went rogue. Fled with his targets. There was a Jedi with them. I pursued them into the metro tunnels, managed to dispatch the primary target. The Jedi..."

Baastian squinted beyond the sterile walls of the lab, recalling the blaster bolt from the catwalk. He felt a twinge of phantom pain from the memory and felt his shoulder for a wound that wasn't there.

"...And Mr. Etanial... must have returned the favor."

There was more, of course. The droid was only interested in the facts of the matter, but Baastian remembered, could trace every line of ragged determination on the old Jedi's haggard face, and not just stubborn survival, but honest conviction. The man had tried to reason with him. To appeal to his compassion. He'd heard of Sith using their words to attack an opponent's resolve during a fight. He'd never considered that a Jedi might try to do the same.

"Sorry, what was that?" The droid had said something, but Baastian's introspection had reduced it to a distant buzz.

"INITIAL DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE," the floating droid repeated. "PLEASE PROCEED TO TREADMILL FOR CARDIOVASCULAR SCREENING."

"Not today, doc," Baastian replied, and he slid off the exam table, bare feet on cold floor. "I've got some reports to make."

"REINITIALIZATION PROTOCOL DICTATES--"

"I'm good. I'm reinitialized." The Knight pushed past the hovering droids and made for the double doors at the end of the lab. "Don't worry, you did a great job. I'll recommend both of you for an oil bath."

"THAT - THAT WOULD BE LOVELY, SIR."

Baastian Cain headed for the lockers that he knew contained plenty of extra uniforms in his size, and to the security station for fresh credentials. Then he made his way back up the Citadel proper to find the Knight-General.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Again," Atrapes said, entering a more esoteric stance, the humming white blade of the lightsaber held point to the ground, seemingly stuck to his palm, his right hand near the hilt. The Knight before him bowed, and entered a more familiar opening stance, with the lightsaber held up over his head, an aggressive stance that nearly always started with a fierce downward blow. Both Knights wore thin black tunics and trousers as well as their boots. The younger Knight was sweating, but Atrapes himself had only a sheen on his face.

The younger Knight swung down, altering his angle by a few degrees to shave by the predicted block, and stab up into the Knight-General's stomach. Atrapes did not change his position at all; the lightsaber hilt was already in motion, gripped in both hands and rotating around, intercepting the falling blade and pushing it to the far side. Atrapes bent forward and bull rushed the younger Knight, shouldering him back only a step, but it was enough for Atrapes to bring the blade back up to his opponent's neck, stopping only centimeters away.

"You trust your training, but do not trust your instincts," Atrapes said, deactivating his lightsaber. "Form without instinct in lightsaber combat will not grant you victory. Forms will not tell you where a blaster bolt will come to you."

"I will try harder, Knight-General," the Knight said as he bowed, and stepped off the dais.

"Do not try to trust your instincts," Atrapes responded, stepping off the dais as well. He ignored the polite applause of the spectating Knights and instructors. "Trying implies doubt of success. Do not doubt them."

"Aye, milord."

Atrapes accepted the towel offered him by one of the attendants, and wiped the sheen of sweat from his face. A presence filtered into his perceptions, familiar and new at the same time. He merely turned, and waited for Baastian Cain to approach.

[Baastian Cain]

"Knight-General."

Baastian Cain crossed the stadium floor to the foot of the dais where Rossos waited, ignoring the attention he drew from Knights and students alike. He was uncomfortable - his uniform was stiff, crisp, never before worn, but then, so was his skin. The lightsaber strapped to his two-point thigh holster still had the factory polish on it, brilliant under the overhead floodlights. The austere brightness of the Imperial Citadel was at once familiar and jarringly other to his hibernation-weakened eyes, and every footfall was like a rifle crack in his ears. At least he'd drained the fluid from them this time.

"I hope this isn't a bad time. I have news from Zeltros."

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes' usually indifferent glance had sharpened as Cain spoke; suddenly that new feeling was comprehensible. He was back, yet had never returned.

"Come with me," he said. Only when they had attained a slightly higher level of privacy of the Citadel's brighter halls did he then command Cain.

"Speak."

[Baastian Cain]

The iron-sharp growl of the Knight-General's voice set Baastian's hair standing on end. He was pretty sure he'd gotten used to it before, but now, with all things made new again, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the enemies of the Empire who found themselves the subject of his cold, penetrating scrutiny. The mind of Rossos Atrapes was a powerful weapon, even more powerful than his sword, and Baastian could not help but admire his superior's utter commitment to the Pax Imperium, however unsettling it might appear to lesser men.

"Xanatos Etanial, the young man we were vetting for Knighthood, has defected to the Alliance," he said. "He attempted to conduct the family of the traitor Dargus Marr into Alliance custody. And that's not the worst of it."

He paused before he reminded himself that there was no sense in which the Knight-General needed to brace himself for bad news. The fact that Baastian had made an early return was probably enough for Atrapes to guess the reason why.

"He had a Jedi accomplice. No doubt coordinating with Alliance intelligence assets, but operating in broad daylight, and engaging our troops on Imperial soil. It's everything we've suspected, sir. We finally have proof."

[Rossos Atrapes]

He listened to the brief report with his eyes to the floor while they walked, arms behind his back. However, once the word Jedi was said, Atrapes came to an abrupt halt. Atrapes had a singular focus on the Jedi that some might have called obsession; but in fact it was how well they had managed to enact and force the Will of the Old Republic upon the people of the galaxy that fascinated him truly. How they had done it was what he was attempting to emulate.

"You are sure," he said, once again speaking both a question and an answer at once, turning his eyes to Cain once more. "Your combat with the Jedi was documented then?"

Any proof would need to be unassailable if they were going to bring this before the Alliance. If there was anything at all that could make it seem altered or faked, no true pressure could be put on the Jedi to stay out of Imperial space by the Alliance. If they could foster alienation between the Jedi and the Alliance, it would make both parties the lesser for it. Atrapes brought his gaze onto Baastian Cain in full.

"There can be no question," he warned. "You know this."

[Baastian Cain]

Baastian met his General's obsidian stare with a solemn nod. "The CCHN cameras, Luma City metro green line, sections 17A through 17C. I made sure we had the feeds locked down before I went in. We also have the fugitives in the drainage tunnels. Telemetry from four mole droids, up until the Jedi disabled them with his lightsaber."

He paused to wet his lips and take a bracing breath before addressing the other, inevitable bit of unpleasantness.

"Sir, it's also very possible the cameras have footage of my... demise."

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Undoubtedly," Atrapes responded, his mind focused on the proper sequence of events that now needed to take place to capitalize on the Jedi's appearance. He gave the face of his organization a sidelong look. "This worries you."

[Baastian Cain]

"Well, yes," Baastian replied with earnestness in his eyes. "That footage has to be classified at the same level as the labs downstairs. If one of the lower-level analysts sees it, results could be... unpleasant."

He stood up to Atrapes's eyes in a way that few men could. It had less to do with bravery than the simple truth that he had nothing to hide from the man. All his secrets were the Knight-General's personal inventions.

"I wouldn't mind reviewing the tape, myself, sir. Might help spotting exactly what I did wrong."

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Then do so. But the question now arises: we cannot allow... your death... to be seen. But the footage must be unaltered. Even if they could not see or find out that we did so, such actions beg for untimely revelations."

Atrapes began to walk again, and with his concentration now almost singularly focused on his thoughts, the air around him began to chill.

"If this is shown to the Alliance to force them to rein in the Jedi, they will want the whole recording of the whole event. Anything that smells of missing time or cutting off frames will potentially be the reason the noose does not tighten."

How to do this? How to present the footage without showing that the face of the Imperial Knights of the Throne had died? Such questions reminded him of his days in the Inquisition, which though not long past now seemed to be removed by eons. The simplest answer was to remove the final act of the failed mission completely. They only needed to show without a doubt that the footage was undoctored, and not showing Cain's death would not impact such a consideration negatively. There were other ways, but the more complex and complicated a plan, there more likely it would fail.

"We will remove the final minutes of combat from the recording. Allow them to draw their own conclusions. But most important is this: if possible, Jedi should not be there when the footage is shown to the Alliance."

[Baastian Cain]

"Sir?"

Baastian moved to keep up with the Atrapes's pensive pace, lest he be left behind completely. There were wheels within wheels at work in the Knight-General's mind.

"Does this mean we're ready to confront the Jedi? Because if so, I need to be there. They need to know I'm still in the game."

No asking permission. No with all due respect. This was conviction, pure and simple.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Indeed. Other than myself, you are the only candidate capable of doing this. Iscandar could, but she has not performed as well in similar situations. And Vissica or Sturkov..."

Atrapes let his statement trail off, as nothing needed to be said about the consequences of allowing either of those two leadership or even allowing them to be present without the Knight-General's presence to keep them in line. It would be a disaster otherwise.

"I will show them. You will be there as well. We are ready to confront them at last."

Atrapes continued walking.

"Speak to me concerning the Jedi you faced. Do you think he is indicative of their Order, or an outlier?"

[Baastian Cain]

Baastian frowned at Atrapes' appraisal of his fellow Knights. While he agreed that Alexia was too volatile for such a delicate situation, he valued Vissica's forthrightness and Palara's perspective - if given the chance, he was certain they'd rise to the occasion. But then, his role was to inspire his comrades-at-arms, and the Knight-General's role was to judge them and to burn away their imperfections like dross in a blast furnace. It must have been a lonely existence.

"He was old enough to have served before the Great Betrayal," Baastian said. "And he was very skilled, both with a lightsaber and in the ways of the Force. I can't imagine they're all so advanced. It wouldn't surprise me if he was one of their ruling elders."

He pressed his lips together as he delved back into his memories, scarce hours ago, yet separated by lightyears, not only of the light and sound of the clashing sabers, but the pained entreaty in the Jedi's eyes and in his voice. "He spoke to me. Tried to appeal to my conscience, to persuade me to let the Marrs go. He seemed confused that I would oppose him."

[Rossos Atrapes]

"They are low on personnel, have available Jedi but are low in those skilled enough to do such missions, or it is a personal bent for risk," Atrapes murmured lowly. "I do not know enough to be sure if it is one of these or some combination."

Atrapes' eyes drifted to the floor and unfocused.

"But it does sound like a Jedi, except for the confusion. Elaborate."

[Baastian Cain]

Intuition was a slippery thing even when it was still close by. Now, removed from the experience by over six thousand parsecs and one total sensory reintegration, trying to reassemble his thoughts on the matter was like catching fog with his black-gloved hands.

"I think I wasn't what he expected," Baastian replied. "I think he expected to face someone... darker."

[Rossos Atrapes]

"An Inquisitor," Atrapes supplied, a slight hint of humour decorating his voice. "So they are acclimating still to the new state of affairs."

Atrapes led Cain from the corridor out to an observation room; the skyline of Imperial Centre was dark, silhouetted against an orange-red sun.

"Did you learn a name?"

[Baastian Cain]

"No. But if he was a Jedi of the Old Republic, he's probably in the archives. Maybe even more recently than that. He said he'd evaded the Empire before."

Baastian approached the panoramic window and stared off into the darkening skyline. Some of the details of the duel were still fuzzy is in his memory, but he could see the old Jedi's weather-worn face as clearly as if it had been branded in his soul. That look of acceptance, of utter serenity when he'd thought the train was coming for both of them, the moment before Agent Etanial had intervened and sealed his treasonous fate.

"Sir," Baastian said, turning on a bootheel, "I'd like to borrow a forensics droid and search the archives myself. If I see his face again, I'll know it. Even a much younger version of him.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Granted," Atrapes answered immediately. "Take three. Go through the archives for this Jedi, but also copy all pertinent Inquisitorial data as well. All Jedi younglings accounted for in the massacre, and those killed after, and compare the data. Undoubtedly some grew to forget their Jedi heritage, but with the lack of any real information telling us of their fates, those remaining unaccounted for we will assume have rejoined the new Jedi Order. If their numbers are growing as much as rumours insist, there must be some group of survivors there."

Atrapes frowned slightly, a step back from where Cain stood, and regarding the same vista. He turned to face Cain, saying:

"We may be overestimating them. Far safer for us to overestimate them slightly than underestimate them at all."

Atrapes walked to a large, low set table in the middle of the room, which was ringed by seating that seemed to have been chosen based on their efficiency and economic look, rather than for their comfort and aesthetic pleasure. A small ring opened in the centre of the table, and a holoprojector hummed to life while Atrapes entered information into a small keypad on the armrest of one of the chairs.

"While you are here, you may be pleased to hear that the Academy has enrolled forty three new students since the COMPNOR campaign and widespread testing for Force sensitivity began." Forty three holoportraits appeared above the table, many of children. "The average age is eleven. Twenty two humans, fifteen males and seven females. There are also two Selonians, and four male twi'leks. Four Arkanians, two males and two females. Two Chiss, one male, one female. One male Devaronian. Two male Duros. One female Nautolan. One male Annoo-dat (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Annoo-dat_Prime). One Shistavanen male. A Falleen female. And interestingly, a Kaleesh male."

[Baastian Cain]

Once Baastian's bloodhound instincts were aroused, it was difficult to change his course. Even as he followed the Kinght-General to the holoprojector, he was already mentally mapping out his search through the Citadel's prodigious archives. What Rossos had asked of him was no mean feat, and while some men might have considered it grunt work fit for junior analysts, Baastian relished the opportunity to know his enemy better. Especially if it would help him toward another encounter with the old Jedi Master.

But for now he concentrated on the forty-three young faces shimmering over the tabletop. There were too many to absorb now, but he'd take the time to memorize their faces and their names, and to greet each one personally when he could manage it. The youngest ones would be in basic training for years before they ever saw field work. Some of the older ones, if they showed the aptitude, could be paired with Knights in the field within a matter of months. Even if a quarter of the new recruits washed out of the program, another thirty Knights would swell their ranks by more than half.

"That's excellent news, sir. I'll make an effort to visit the trainee classes over the next week. We may also consider pulling a few senior Knights off their field assignments to work with the top performers."

A wicked thought occurred to him, and he offered his superior a lopsided smile. "I suppose if we really needed an extra pair of hands, I could try being in two places at once."