“Be like the sun for grace and mercy.
Be like the night to cover others' faults.
Be like running water for generosity.
Be like death for rage and anger.
Be like the Earth for modesty.
Appear as you are. Be as you appear.”
Rumi
Poe Dameron took a deep breath, rubbed his hands, and then committed. He strolled out of the ship followed by his escort, five well-armed Resistant fighters. They met the enemy on the field, weapons raised. Captain Harold and his angels stood, aware of the threat, but per orders, they did not raise their weapons. They stood ready, waiting for the other to fire the first shot, which, at this range, short of luck, could be deadly. Of course, Priya had always affected their luck and she stood before them, waiting to greet enemy. Directly behind Priya was a casket, draped respectfully with a Bothan flag.
“You’re going by Priya now, is that what I hear?” Poe asked.
“Priya was my given name, before I was apprenticed to Darth Torlin,” Priya said. “It is so difficult to sort out fact from fiction these days,” Poe said.
“And I am really confused. Some say Torlin is alive and well. They’ve seen his ship as far out as Kiffu. Some people say you killed Kilmore, but surprisingly, his absence hasn’t resulted in the political and economic collapse we would have anticipated. And yet, now, you would have us believe you’re on our side.”
“I have here the remains of Admiral Talon. He intercepted an important communique and was trying desperately to get it back to the resistance,” Priya said. She held out her hand, offering a data chip. “On this you will find the battle plans he intercepted. You will also have telemetry of the battle and video of his last moments, which your experts will determine are not forgeries, or holographic tricks of lights, or digital renditions. Giving you this is no small matter. I realize I have made many enemies and this information could be used against me.”
“Did you kill Talon?” Poe asked directly. “I did not,” Priya said.
“Did you kill Torlin and Kilmore?” Poe asked.
Priya delayed in her response. It wasn’t hesitation. It wasn’t a calculating move. It was just one of those Force moments where you decide which path you were going to take. She had taken the dark path so often that that way was easier. She knew that road. She knew she could make a believable lie and Poe would walk away believing it, and maybe even convincing others of the truth of it. But it would have a taint that would influence outcomes in other ways. If she told the truth, she could sell it, make it believable, but it was complicated and required more explanations, which would make people more doubtful of her story. It was because she wanted to lie that she committed to the truth.
“I did not,” Priya said.
“Are they even dead?” Poe asked. “They are,” Priya said.
“You’re not being very forthcoming here,” Poe said. “You want me to take this data and this body and convince my leaders you’re on the up and up, but when it comes to some really simple questions about your Master and the Sith Lord that ruled him, well, I get this sense you’re playing a game. I don’t like games. Well, I like games, but not this game.”
Priya nodded. “I am not at liberty to discuss who killed Tolin and Kilmore,” she said, weighing her words. “Suffice it to say, I, and the people who serve me, were given a second life that day. We have committed ourselves to a different way of being. We will serve the Light until our dying breath, without retirement, knowing that even the poor remainder of our lives will never repay the evil we have done in the guise of law and order and civic duty.”
“And, so, you’ve seen the light and you’re all like anti-nationalism?” Poe said.
“I have seen the Light,” Priya said. “And there is no Nation in the galaxy that compares to that Light. All individuals fail. All groups fail. All nations fail. We are all raised and felled by wars and time, but the Light is eternal. Love is eternal. This is the true nature of the Force. This is the position we are taking.”
“I don’t suppose you are willing to surrender to me and come back and sell this to my boss in person?” Poe said.
Captain’s Harold laughed. Priya looked at him. “Sorry, Mam. That was funny.”
Priya nodded and gave her attention back to Poe. “I have considered it,” she said.
“But I don’t think my being in a prison would help anyone. Especially, if you intend to sit on that data chip deliberating over a response. It has a time stamp. The clock is ticking.”
Poe took the data chip.
“You know, the last time someone gave me a chip, all hell broke loose,” he said, frowning.
“Wait here. I will be right back.”
Poe took the chip back to his ship, while his men waited. Priya and the Angels remained standing at parade rest. They waited for some time. The desert heat was murder, more so for Poe’s men than for Priya, one with the Force, or her Angels, who had the comfort of their body armor.
“We won’t attack you, if you wish to lower your arms and drink,” Priya offered.
They didn’t take her up on her offer. Priya wanted to educate them about the Force. If she wanted them dead, they would be. She resisted. And they waited. She meditated in a standing position, feeling the sand, watching the shimmering of the air around her, rising with it. Perhaps an hour later, Poe returned.
“That didn’t go well,” Poe said.
“You advocated for the message,” Priya said. Her statement was precise. He wasn’t promoting her as the next best ally, but the message seemed genuine.
“It is what it is. The Force will now shape it.”
“You know what’s on that chip?” Poe said.
“The battle plans to occupy Axxila,” Priya said.
“It would take a minimum of fourteen star destroyers to get through their orbital defenses, and even then, the capital is so well shielded, it would take months to take it,” Poe said.
“My understanding is that the First Order has a crime lord on their side who is going to deactivate a portion of the shield,” Priya said. “They will take the capital. And once the orbital defense is down, if they erect the planetary shield, no one will come and go from Axxila except those the First Order approves.”
“If they take control of Axxila, they will have the potential to spread from rim to core quicker than any strategist has predicted,” Poe said.
Priya nodded.
“But, no one has seen a space battle of that size since the Emperor was taken down,” Poe said.
“There’s no way they have that many Destroyer’s available to commit to that kind of run.”
“They have thirteen,” Priya said. “Are you sure?” Poe said.
“Fairly sure,” Priya said.
“After the fall of the Hosnian worlds, it has been much easier to rally the independents who maintained ships.”
“Funny you should say that,” Poe said.
“Because, I was advised to offer you a deal.”
“I am listening,” Priya said.
“They want you to prove yourself. We’re going to take a long shot and bet you’re telling the truth, and so they want you to make friends with the First Order, and be a part of this dark Run against Axxila, and stop it,” Poe said. “If you manage to take out just one of their star destroyers, the Resistance will commit a small task force to help.”
“I am not opposed to the tactic,” Priya said. “However, even if I were to get myself situated where I was allowed to participate, the Resistance would lose an opportunity to use my reputation and employ me as a double agent.”
Poe gave sympathetic hand gesture. “True enough,” Poe said. “That’s just one of the problems with double agents. They have to do some bad in order to do some good, but eventually they have to make that call to risk exposing themselves or blowing things up directly, which often requires a suicidal gesture. The other problem is that sometimes double agents flip sides, or go independently Roque, or flat out crazy. The fact that you are such an extreme player, though, means that the amount of bad you would have to do in order to maintain your image as a pretend bad guy isn’t worth the costs. I don’t suppose you know when this Dark Run is scheduled to occur?”
“I do not,” Priya said.
“So, you see, we have this other tactical problem. Let’s say this is a ruse, and we deploy forces in that area to circumvent or stop said Run. At best we have only delayed the operation, or they attack another target, utilizing Axxila as a distraction. At worse, we have put forces in an area where they are vulnerable to becoming targets in themselves. I don’t suppose you would be willing to park your Star Destroyer in orbit around Axxila?”
“I doubt I would be welcome in that system,” Priya said.
“Yeah, well, your personal history doesn’t lend itself towards being warm and fuzzy,” Poe said. “I doubt even a ‘holo’ op with Ewoks would help change your image. Of course, removing that face scar might be a step in the right direction.”
“I like my scar,” Priya said. “It reminds me of who I once was and how easy it is to go there again.”
“So, we seem to be at an impasse,” Poe said.
Priya nodded. “Let your people know then, for the record, I am going to endeavor to insert myself into the First Order and participate in this Run on Axxila,” she said. “If I am unable to do that, I will do my best to determine when the Run will occur and get the message to you, through the same channel I used to solicit this meeting. Whether I am officially part of that Run or not, I intend to be there to take out as many of the First Order ships that I can.”
“I wish you luck in that,” Poe said. “So, unless you have something else, my men and I are going to leave first.”
Priya consented with a nod. The Angels remained at parade rest. Poe and his men began to back away.
“You’re not taking the sentient remains?” Priya asked.
“I have been instructed not to take it,” Poe said.
“Talon deserves a proper burial, or whatever their species does for the dead,” Priya said.
“Yeah, I agree, he does, but we simply don’t trust you. If it’s not a bomb or a hidden tracking device we can imagine a whole host of other nefarious technological nasty’s you might employ against us,” Poe said.
“Like the zombie apocalypse virus that was created on Dathomir, for example.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” Priya said, exasperated. “And, you’re being a bit paranoid.”
“With one shot, we lost five planets to the First Order, I think a little paranoia at this juncture is warranted,” Poe said.
“Paranoia is the source of all wars and abuse. It keeps people locked into bad relationships, just like this, from fear of abandonment or that the other may become stronger and retaliate for past wrongs, real or perceived. At some point, we all have to step back, forgive, and trust each other not to intentionally harm the other,” Priya said.
“I don’t know what Universe you live in, but that’s not here,” Poe said.
Priya placed her hands on her belt, and the tension ramped up until they witnessed it fall to the ground, lightsaber and all. She then stepped forwards towards Poe, offering a hand. Poe’s men brought all arms to bear on her. One of the guard waved between her and the Angels, but stayed on her as she got closer. The Angels, per their instructions, did not move from parade rest. Poe didn’t accept her hand. Priya came closer to him, still, hand outstretched.
Poe still didn’t take it. “Your gesture, while understood, is meaningless. There are others who will offer their hand and then cut the arm off of the one that accepts it,” Poe said.
“Yes. I can name some of them,” Priya said. “But it isn’t you and isn’t me and that it isn’t today. Take my hand, have your men lower their weapons, and then walk away having a different experience than the one the galaxy has seen over the last hundreds of years. Let this relationship be predicated on the ideals we both esteem.”
Poe did not take her hand. “I have personally fought in battle against you. Many of my friends are not here today because of you.”
“I know,” Priya said.
“And you think all of that is going to go away by a hand shake?” Poe said.
“No, it’s not,” Priya said.
“But what I am asking you is this: if both sides continue to hold onto these wounds, to hate, how can we heal?”
“I will never forgive you for what you’ve done,” Poe said.
“And I am not asking you to, but you’re position is maintained by your emotion and your pain and your hate, these are the things of the dark side,” Priya said.
“How dare you lecture me on the dark side,” Poe said, almost shoving her, stepping in closer to her, daring her to do something. “You can’t compare us! You can’t destroy worlds and crush spirits and enslave populations and fucking come back from that and start preaching about the dark side! Fuck you!”
“Will killing me end your pain? Will it make it right?” Priya asked, sweeping her arms out wide. “Then order your men to kill me now and walk away knowing you ridded the Galaxy of someone who committed horrendous acts of evil against many people, many worlds. I have. My men will not interfere. Go ahead. Kill me. By any legal precedent in any legal arena under any jurisdiction you might bring me to justice in, I deserve nothing better than execution. You can kill me right now and know it be just. No one would fault you. My own men, my crew, my family, none of them would fault you or hold grudge.”
“You don’t think I will?!” Poe said.
“I know you can’t,” Priya said. “Not today, because something bigger is happening today. We are one with the Force today. This is not some vague cliché. We can make no action that isn’t in accordance with the Force. The Force doesn’t take sides or divides us into compartments; we do that. There is only love, only light. True salvation comes when we realize there is nothing we can do to earn that love, it just is. And the pain leaves us when we embrace that love, and we share that love, and we walk kinder on the worlds.”
Poe made a face, disgusted at himself for losing composure, and he was struggling to spin his wry humor back into it. “I don’t remember you being this preachy.”
“Probably because the old me would have just killed you,” Priya said.
He pointed at her face. “Still not shaking your hand,” he said, retreating offering palms out gesture, as if to say: “just saying.”
Poe’s men followed into his ship. Priya met the eyes of one of them, almost knowingly. There was definitely an acknowledging. The doors closed and a cloud of sand was stirred as the ship rose into the air, orientated, and thrust away. The Angels gathered around.
“Thought for sure you were about to buy it there,” Captain Harolds said.
“I would have had two of their weapons hadn’t misfired,” Priya said.
“You saw that, too?” Nimh.
“Fuck, they will think you used the Force on them,” Zaira Fusco said.
Paolo Nardi clucked. “Gonna make them more paranoid.”
Priya turned and headed back to the casket.
“You know, even if you get invited to the Run, the moment we turn on them we’re done for,” Harolds said.
“Yep,” Priya said.
“What’s the highest kill ratio of a single Destroyer against other Destroyers?” Arms Donato asked.
“Are you counting with or without Tie Fighters?” Nimh asked.
“With everything,” Arms said.
“I think Admiral Droller went head to head with four and won,” Trent Sharp said.
“You call that a successful run? He has more prosthetic-mechanical parts than a Droid,” Zaira said
“You think he looks bad, you should see the crew that survived,” Angel One said.
“I didn’t know any crew survived,” Nimh said.
When the Angels realized that Harolds and Priya were waiting silently in their pall bearer’s position, they became silent, took up there places, and guided the casket that was on an antigrav skid back into the shuttle.
Moonan, the second planet orbiting the sun Nen, in Neimoidia system, was well known for being inhabitable due to its high levels of toxicity. What was less well known, and considered more fantasy than fact, was that the Neimoidian carved out vast underground tunnels which were turned into vaults. What better place to hide valuables than in a planet consider to be a toxic waste site and not worth the bother. Moonan had two moons, and each moon were also host to impressive vaults where precious minerals and valuables were kept. Of course, and perhaps known only to the Neimoidians themselves, these Moonan moons were meant to be more of a distraction from the real wealth on the planet it below. In addition to the two natural satellites, there were well over a hundred thousand Lucrehulk-class battleship in orbit. Most of them were dead in space, perhaps decommissioned, perhaps waiting crews. Twenty of them were clearly operational. One of them was her destination. Nolasco piloted the space yacht, the Luxury 5000 made by the SoroSuub Corporation.
“You sure you want to do this alone?” Nolasco asked.
“I’m not alone,” Lestelle Re said.
“You’re not going to start ranting repetitious mantras like, ‘I am one with the Force, the Force is with me,’ are you?” Nolasco asked.
“Of course not,” Lestelle said.
“Why would I need to hypnotize myself in to knowing something I already know? Keep the ship warmed up, I doubt this will take long.”
“Yes, Master,” Nolasco said.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Lestelle said as she left the flight deck.
Heli met Lestelle by the hatch with a jacket and a bag. Lestelle was already way over dressed, as if she were going to ball, but the jacket and the purse were complimentary items that a socialite would not be seen without. Her gown was elegant, with a V that showed all of her back all the way down to just above buttocks, and a front v that revealed more cleavage than she normally allowed for. But she had a role to play. A Luxury Droid, the most recent one released to market, and even more human in appearance than Freya, stood ready to accompany her. The only thing that kept her from being mistaken for an actual human were the seams that outline the face, limbs and body that revealed the inner light and working. The seams glowed with a brilliant blue. She came with a counterpart, which in some ways was the equal of an astromechs droid, only this one floated. The upper surface was flat, and was softly illuminated, an interactive interface that allowed a user to draw or write with a finger, or pick from menus, or simply use it as a floating table top. The two droids had come packaged together, with the Luxury droid standing on top, the ‘floating pedestal’ lighting her up.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you?” Heli asked.
“No, stay here, and try to relax,”
“Lestelle said.
“I am really worried, mam,” Heli admitted.
“About the mission?” Lestelle said.
“No, Mam,” Heli said, looking down. “I was really expecting my service to be more arduous, and yet, not only have I been treated extremely well by you and your staff and your brother, I am living a life far beyond anything I have ever imagined possible.”
“Oh,” Lestelle said.
“Well, I am glad you’re here. Now, go relax. That’s an order. Go talk to Nolasco. Have a cup of brew.”
“Come along Allura and Mint,” Lestelle said, proceeding down the ramp.
A host of four Neimoidians were waiting at the bottom of the ramp. One was male, the other were female. Their hands were clasped together and hidden in their sleeves, and when they bowed, Lestelle imagined their headdress might fall off, but they didn’t.
“Madam Lestelle,” one stepped closer.
“I am Ohm Roata. I am confused by this impromptu visit. Surely, Geoff Favelle is not sending his most favored advisor to spy on us?”
“Oh, Ohm,” Lestelle said. “Do I look like a spy?”
Ohm and his companions blinked. His mouth parted, not quite sure what to say. “I must admit, for a human, you seem absolutely ravishable.”
“I think the word is ravishing, and I appreciate your compliment,” Lestelle said.
“Is it an inconvenience to visit with you now?”
“Visitor are always welcome,” Ohm said.
“I am always happy to entertain guests. Welcome to my lovely prison.”
“Did you mean to use the word prison?” Lestelle asked.
Ohm pursed his lips, making a motion like blowing tiny bubbles and then nodded. “I am certain,” Ohm said. “Aren’t we all merely prisoners? But surely, you did not come to discuss true philosophy.”
“I did not know true philosophy was an option,” Lestelle said.
“I suspect, there are many things you don’t know, Lestelle. Allow me to make some assumptions. Anything you find here on this ship, can be found anywhere on Neimoidia at a data registry. In fact, your company is so prestigious, you could have sent in a formal research request, and someone would have responded accordingly,” Ohm said, his eyes narrows. “You want information and you want to obtain it without drawing the attention of others, or I doubt I would have the pleasure of this conversation. You would not have come to my lovely prison otherwise.”
“What do you mean by lovely prison?” Lestelle asked.
“Aww, since you asked,” Ohm said, again making the facial gestures like he was blowing bubbles. “But, let’s retire to a more comfortable setting. Allow me to serve you.”
“I would like that,” Lestelle said.
“I am afraid, I can’t permit your Droids entry,” Ohm.
“They’re my servants,” Lestelle said.
“And they are amazing example of refined tech,” Ohm said.
“You are clearly a person of extraordinary tastes. But I cannot permit them to into my lovely prison.”
Lestelle sighed. “Alura, Mint, return to the ship,” she said.
“As you wish, Master,” Alura said. Mint followed, emoting through soft tones and flashes of light around its perimeter.
“May I take your lovely arm?” Ohm asked.
Lestelle permitted him to take her arm and he guided her, his three female companions following. From the hangar, they passed through two bulkheads before coming to the main corridor that swept through the curve of one arc of the station. Her arm was hooked in his, but his free hand stroke her arm, in a friendly manner that might have been nothing, might have been sensual, like an old man simply appreciating and remembering youth. The thing was, Ohm would be considered middle aged, and this seemed more than just a friendly gesture. As they walked, she discerned doors that were welded shut at the seams. She was curious about it, but didn’t ask. She also noted, the further she walked from the hangar, the more disturbed she felt.
There was something stirring, like a whisper of a thought, but she passed it off as anxiety induced by an alien presence and didn’t pursue it. Ohm was her first encounter with a Neimoidian, and though she had been around other aliens, a phenomena that was very rarely discuss is that every new encounter elicited different physical and emotional reactions. Everyone responded differently. As far as aliens go, Ohm and his companions didn’t smell outrageously offensive. They were just ‘different.’ She did get that sense that Ohm didn’t bathe regularly, but again, she pushed it off as imagination. The smoothness of their skin did stir her emotions. She found her mind trying to impress a human image there, but it just wouldn’t fit, and the smoothness reminded her of night terrors she had had where she encountered humans without mouths and noses or eyes, as if they were hoodwinked by tight hose and suffocating. Of course, Ohm and his companion had faces, and the redness of their eyes, the intensity of them, provoked an emotional response, too, a latent fear that she recognized was just fear and chose to replace it with, again, just ‘different.’
“Literally, every ship in orbit here is a prison,” Ohm said, as he guided her. “You probably noticed as you approached, many of them have gone dark. Those could no longer afford their wardens, and so over the years, their light just simply went off, like so many aged stars. I am a warden. I maintain this vessel, and care for the few that reside here, hidden in the dark, meditating over their failures of wars and economics, and they compensate me well for my time and my talents. I am not sure where I read this, but once society builds a prison, everyone in society becomes imprisoned. We are either inmates or wardens, and quite frankly, it is impossible to make a distinction of who owns who. We are all owned.”
Lestelle hadn’t considered this point in quite the same way. Ohm sensed her sorting it and patted her arm sympathetically, harder than his previous rubs. His physical contact was becoming more firm the deeper they went into his lair.
“Ah, you are listening!” Ohm said. He leaned into whisper: “But this is just the beginning of the layers of understanding.” And then retreated again, returning to normal voice. “Do you understand our biology, our stages of life? We are hatched as grubs and are nothing more than animals. There is mind, but it is so rudimentary you wouldn’t consider it anything more than animalistic. Grubs are not the equivalent of human babies. There is no comparison. Even our least nurturing minding adult would treat a human infant differently than we do a grub. Grubs, my dear, are confined and forced to compete for a limited supply of food. The one who secures the most food advances to the next stage of life. The others perish. Sometimes, the others are even eaten. At some point, we achieve mindfulness, and the recognition state occurs, where we begin to acknowledge others. When we recognize power differential, we enter the game stage of life. It becomes our mission to gain affluence and influence, we develop mind, we accumulate credit and squirrel away hard capital. We engage in business opportunities. We compete with each other and every life form, jockeying for the ultimate position. The best of us horde worthless crap, but create markets for it and generate revenue from nothing. Ultimately, we are all trying to position ourselves for the next life. The afterlife. Each stage of our existence we can declare: same above same below. I am still only a grub, accruing wealth and pushing towards the next stage. I feel sorry for humans. You lack spiritual understanding in things because you lack extreme distinctions between developmental levels. Almost every human I have interviewed will point to childhood, adolescence and adulthood as being the three stages, but when you press them, they have a continuity of awareness that was always present. Ideally, your children are afforded the right to say no, to practice being adults supervised in safe environments, making games out of being adult, where my species struggle, fight, and mostly die. Even now, I am sensing in you an argument, an emotional response to my philosophy, but before you speak it, consider this: I expect your emotional response comes from a good place, and that it is complex, and a part of you is saying, how horrid, how could you treat grubs that way, why let them fight and let most of them die? I will answer that in a way that perhaps you might even appreciate.
You are an adult female, capable of reproduction. Every human female is born with all the eggs she will have over her lifetime. You don’t produce new ones as you go, the way men produce millions of sperm every day. You have a fixed number of eggs. The counts vary, but average seems to be 2 million eggs per ovary per female. I think it’s per ovary. I forget. Not important. Assume 2 million per female. Extend your maternal instinct, this compulsion you feel to protect all grubs, to all 2 million of your eggs. Could you do it? The technology exists. You could make that happen. We could remove your ovaries, freeze your eggs, fertilize them at your convenience and release them into the environment. We could use a combination of surrogate mothers and or artificial wombs. Do you realize if you only had a quarter of that reach adulthood, your genetic line would be secure for the lifetime of this galaxy? Provided they don’t all live on the same planet and experience an extinction level event.” He patted her arm, musing over his own scenario.
“I don’t have a response,” Lestelle said.
“Welcome to my lovely prison,” Ohm said, leading her into his luxury suite. “Please, have a seat. I will have my lovely inmates serve us. Bring us food and drink, Lem. Would you like your feet massaged, Lestelle. Ror gives great massages.”
Lestelle waved Ror off, and she bowed and retreated back to Ohm. When he was settled in middle of his couch, she pulled up the stool, lifted his feet, and began to massage them. They were grotesque feet, with odd shaped, gnarly toenails, with bristling hair bushing off the furthest toe knuckles.
“I really appreciate your eagerness to entertain me, but I really would like to access the archival information of