The Enemy in the Mirror

“You have the questions I would like asked. I have confidence you will do well, Veskasa.”

“Jedi Serena Laran. We ‘ave ‘olos of ‘er companions, zough zere are no matches in our databases yet,” Inquisitor Iscandar murmured as she read over the file on their prisoner. Inquisitor Vel Aath looked at one of the newer recruits to the Inquisitoriate in some time; part of an initiative to bring new blood – and new potential – into their ranks.

Palara Iscandar was a Twi'lek, shapely, with purple-hued skin. She had been trained since being captured to be an Infiltrator, an Inquisitor whose presence would not be noticed in those areas where Inquisitors were known or humans were not very common and thus would attract attention. While the Indoctrination of the humanoid had gone well, she had refused to learn any techniques that smacked of too much darkness. She even found it difficult to lie. This, while helpful to being an Infiltrator, was not well suited for interrogation. But Inquisitor Atrapes had expressed quite clearly that the alien was take part in this interrogation, and he was the more experienced of them.

They were watching the Jedi through the one-way durasteel wall of the interrogation chambers. Iscandar sighed, bringing Vel Aath’s attention back to her.

“Go,” Vel Aath commanded. “It will not do any good to wait.”

Iscandar nodded, and left the observation room. Vel Aath turned back to Jedi Laran, looking through her own reflection to the woman strapped to the chair in the middle of the room.

***

The interrogation room was uniformly matte black; even the chair and the table that were situated in the centre of the room were the same glossy black of the rest of the Citadel, save for a few areas.

Jedi Laran was tied to a large chair, one that allowed for almost no movement on her part, and the only direction she could look was straight ahead and, perhaps, a few degrees around. The chair was set up in such a way that the Jedi could not look away from the Inquisitor, nor could she keep herself from being injected earlier by the droid with drugs that, among other things, suppressed her abilities with the Force, and “scattered”, or hazed, her mind to make it harder to mount defences against mental intrusion and Force suggestions. By now, the drug would be taking effect, though the results were wildly variable. Some had been able to somehow manage themselves enough to keep from giving too much information. However, none had been able to completely shrug it off.

Inquisitor Iscandar entered the room followed by an interrogation droid, keeping her eyes focussed on the data-pad, before sitting across from the Jedi. Only then did her eyes rise to the human woman across from her. The droid hovered slowly over to take a position next to the woman, with its needle extended and prepared to inject its own mix of drugs into the Jedi.

“Jedi Serena Laran,” the Twi’lek began, her expression neutral. “A survivor of ze Purges. Zat is most commendable. My name is Inquisitor Iscandar. We are ‘oping zat you will prove cooperative. Zere are many questions we would like answered, and you are ze most qualified to answer zem.”

Things had certainly changed. Was it just two years ago that she had been living amongst the Roghnófar Daoine of Dhomanda A'lainn? When she closed her eyes she could almost see it.

And she had left... to protect those same Chosen People from the Empire. To save the girl, Rhianna. The girl who was now lost, yet perhaps safe with Morgan Evanar and what teachings of the Force the Jedi had been able to convey to them both. She hoped it was enough.

Serena Laran slowly opened her eyes, a twi'lek holding a datapad coming into focus. She had been working, trying to dilute the drug that had been injected to her, but the longer it was in her system the harder it became to touch the Force, let alone do anything with it. It should have been a relatively simple procedure for a Healer.

She looked at the twi'lek, and waited for the questions. There was nothing to say. Had she failed? Was this to be it - the small group of Jedi she had managed to find now scattered to the winds, fighting for their lives?

She could not betray their location if she tried. If the Empire released her tomorrow she had no idea where to look.

Serena closed her eyes. She could almost hear the wind in the trees.

The Jedi seemed to be waiting. The Inquisitor nodded and looked back down at her data-pad.

“We found some interesting holos on ze Imperial Network, Jedi Laran,” the twi’lek said. “A Knighting ceremony, to be precise, from before ze Purges.”

She stood now, and made her way to the side of the chair.

“Where have you been 'iding all zose years? Not on zat vessel; it was on a planet. Where?”

The Inquisitor began to lace her questions with the Force, letting her awareness settle almost fully on the Jedi. She caught some fleeting images and whispers, but nothing tangible or useful. She pressed her question once more.

“Where?”

She smiled faintly, feeling the press of the woman's touch on her mind despite the drugs in her system. "It is strange, is it not, that they allow you to live and yet signed off on the murders of hundreds of children who's only crime was to be Force sensitive?"

Serena sighed. "My exile is of no importance." She tried her hardest to impress her words with the Force and convince the Twi'lek to leave it alone, but could barely sense it now, her touch on the Life Giver becoming ever more tenuous.

The door to the chamber parted. “Exile implies permanence, Ms. Laran.”

A man, mid to upper forties perhaps, standing a solid hundred and eighty-five centimeters entered the chamber. His dark hair, medium in length, grayed at the temples a bit and showed age beginning to wear on him. Though nothing about him was frail in any sense of the word.

He wore a black stylized uniform with red trim running across either shoulder, down the length of his tunic, and continued along the slacks. No plaque displayed his rank, but the crimson heraldry of the Office of the Imperial Inquisitoriate shone upon the left breast.

Inquisitor Iscandar clearly recognized him despite never having met the man in person. Her skin visibly lightened to a soft indigo from her normal deep violet.

“And as far as I know, no Inquisitor has signed off on the murder of hundreds of children. If any of my subordinates were guilty of such a crime I would personally make sure they atoned for the sin.”

He pulled up a second chair next to Iscandar, who was shocked at the appearance of the person who held lordship over this entire domain.

“I apologize for the treatment you’ve been given. This is no way to treat a guest. Unfortunately I’ve been of planet on business and have only recently caught up regarding the fiasco on the galactic rim.”

Grand Inquisitor Valten motioned towards to bound Jedi.

“Inquisitor....Iscandar is it?. Please cut Ms. Laran's bindings loose, that is no way to treat a guest.” Karl smiled towards the Jedi. "Can I offer you caf or tea?"

Serena's eyes were slightly glazed as she looked at the newcomer, and then the straps holding her to the chair were loosened. She made an effort not to sag, keeping her back straight, and she rubbed her arms a little bit to help restore some of the lost circulation.

"No... Inquisitor did this..." The Jedi's voice was soft. "...Chancellor Palpatine ordered the purge of the Jedi." Her head was starting to feel floaty, like someone had pumped her full of helium. "The deaths of children."

“Emperor Palpatine.” The Grand Inquisitor carefully corrected Serena. Inquisitor Iscandar paused off to the side and remained silent while watching the exchange with confusion behind her eyes.

“I am also not aware of this. If what you say is true, this happened a long time ago. And if true again, his majesty is years dead...his life ended by one of your Jedi no less.” Karl leaned across the table, steadying Laran has she began to sway from the drugs.

Definitely tea.

“We all receive what we have wrought in the end. But I am more interested in the now than I am of decades gone. Inquisitor Iscandar, could you please have someone fetch a two hot cups of Manellan Jasper?”

The Force was still there, a mere whisper where once had been a thunderclap. She clung to it, a thread that led back to sanity. She had seen this - seen her captivity. Seen that this was part of her destiny.

For the Jedi to be safe, to escape Cloud City, she had to be taken.

The Twi'leki Inquisitor left the room, apparently to get tea. Serena looked at the man across from her, putting her arms on the table to steady herself and ignoring the interrogation droid that was still hovering in a nearby corner. "What is it... you wish to know?"

Valten smiled. "There's a lot I wish to know, knowledge is an obsession of mine."

The Grand Inquisitor chuckled a bit. "But enough semantics how about something simple, what was your business on Bespin?"

Her mind was getting hazier, though a small part of her brain was still attempting to defend against the effects of the drug she'd been injected with. "Business? No business... Just trying to live."

Serena propped her head up on her left hand, elbow on the table.

The Grand Inquisitor steepled his fingers together and nodded. "I see. Willingly submitting, on you knees no less, to a homicidal madman isn't very conducive to that goal."

Karl sighed and shook his head. "Please don't lie to me."

At that moment, Inquisitor Iscandar reentered the room with to steaming mugs of exotic tea. Valten passed one cup across the table and took a small sip of the drink. Scalding hot. Perfect.

"You know that man claims to be a Sith? We've had run-ins with him before, slippery bastard."

The wind in the trees. Unseen... affect producing effect. The Force was a slight breeze now, a ghost of a breath that would barely fog a mirror.

Her long hair was bundled in a messy braid, hanging nearly to her waist. Serena pulled it over her shoulder in a gesture that was a remnant of her childhood. As a youngling she would often cling to her hair as a sort of security blanket, and as a padawan she had taken to wearing her hair up to break herself of the habit. Her long fingers worked themselves into the strands of copper, slowly undoing the braid and teasing out the tangles near the end one at a time.

"It is my destiny to be taken," she said, her green eyes fixed on the steaming cup of tea before her. "I did not want any loss of life because of my resistance, so I gave none. ...I am meant to be here."

"I wish you would have put up a fight, we might have been able to bring him in with your help." Valten concentrated on the woman across from him while taking another sip of the tea. Her eyes were starting to clear up some. The fidgeting was a good sign as well, it was much easier to see the truth in people when they weren't hopped up on drugs.

"Slaughtered his way through a residential district before he disappeared into Port Town."

The Grand Inquisitor motioned towards the cup of tea.

"Please. I wouldn't spoil good tea with any chemicals."

She felt a pang of guilt at his words, but forced herself to concentrate on the present. And the Force... it was becoming louder in the background as the drugs that had been suppressing it began to wear off. Serena reached for the tea with hands that were involuntarily shaking, and sipped it. As she swallowed she worked on diluting the drugs even more, using the Force to heal herself of its ill effects.

A time consuming effort, at best.

"I am not responsible for the work of the Empire's dogs." She looked at him, making eye contact for the first time.

Valten smiled serenely at her insult. She would find nothing in his eyes, just blank, grey irises.

"Then who's work are you responsible for?"

She frowned slightly, wrinkles beginning to form between her eyebrows. "None but my own..."

Valten slowly leaned across the table.

"Really? You disappeared for over twenty years from the face of the galaxy. You stayed hidden for all that time."

He pulled a small holo-recorded from his breast pocket, setting it between them. A young Serena floated above the device in the midst of a Jedi Knighting Ceremony.

"What's a little video like this? You could easily have gone into hiding again, vanished and never to be seen again."

The image flickered, this time a recording from what seemed to be a HUD. The scene bounced erratically as the wearer closely followed a fleeing woman. An armored glove closed around the woman's arm and more followed, hauling her off her feet. The hologram froze on her face. James Prent.

"Her? Perhaps your other friend? Others? One doesn't simply give up freedom at a whim."

Serena looked at the young face upturned in the holo, and her face changed. Where she had been tired, she became sorrowful, just with the rearrangement of a few small muscles. "It is not that difficult to disappear."

She drank the tea in front of her more deeply, feeling dehydrated and not knowing when the Imperials would let her have more liquid. "And yet as I was about to, I was taken. So perhaps it is not as easy as you and I thought it was." Serena paused. "My lack of resistance made it easier, but I..." She halted. Perhaps she had made a mistake. But no, no... she had done what she had to to protect the others.

Uncertainty. Hesitance. This is what the Grand Inquisitor was looking for. If only the drugs weren’t still in here system. Laran was recovering quickly, but she was a Jedi after all. The recording spoke clearly to that effect.

“Unfortunately your friend was not so amiable. Imperials were badly injured. It’s curious, really, how someone her size can toss about four fully armored soldiers.”

Valten sat back, a frown creeping up on his face as he effortlessly kept up his charade. Never once did he skip a beat.

“Sadly she got herself caught by Ministry of Truth officers while resisting my own. And the Ministry has never really had much respect for my organization.”

He sipped more at his tea as he closely studied the Jedi prisoner.

“They’ve been pulling jurisdiction Bantha dren. Always executing people “as an example” (Valten sneered) ever since the Belargic fiasco. Frankly, I think they’re just trying to spite the Inquisitoriate.”

Serena's brow creased into a slight frown, wondering how what he said could be true. Certainly it could be, but James Prent was a small young woman, and not trained in any martial arts that she knew of. Certainly not a warrior.

But if the poor girl had been captured... Serena remembered how James had told her about how she'd gotten her burns. Burnt at the stake for being an adept on a backwater planet with little Imperial oversight, and literally been pulled from the flames by her half brother and Loklorien. If she was awaiting another execution it could turn her to the Dark side. No matter that her skill was small, the Dark side was a matter of the heart - not talent.

"That is curious," she managed at last. A leaf on the river. "I..." The wind in the rushes. "I know only a little about the politics of the current Empire." Give him nothing! He will take what you give him and hang you and the others with it.

She closed her eyes to pray for strength and a tear ran down her cheek. The Force was there, around her... in him... in the chair and the table... waiting.