Chapter 3 The Healing
The room Rachel woke up in was dimly lit with blue lights. She slowly took in her surroundings, but the very first thing she noticed was that she could feel again. The Force was back. It was surrounding her and moving through her mind. She felt it wrap itself around her like a warm blanket, but as she went to take a deep meditative breath, a sharp pain stabbed her back and sides, cutting her breath short with a wince.
She tried to relax her body, but she began to feel every bruise, fracture, laceration, and tear. Her knee was shattered, her shoulder was torn, her head throbbed, she had several fractures all over her body, and in her back was a deep gash, which had been the main cause of her wincing.
Her anxiety rose as she had the sudden feeling of claustrophobia. Around her body, metallic rings circled around her like a snake, and her only thought was that of a python squeezing its victim. She tried to fight it, but every movement shot pain through her body, and she heard an alarm go off nearby.
Her mind began to race as she heard unfamiliar words in a language she thought she could almost understand. She began to panic, remembering where she and Thran had been, remembering the cage and the Rattataki that had taken them. Surely they had seen that the methods of torture were not working and were now resorting to other measures.
She began to fight against the restraining grip of the rings that gripped her, fighting through the pain it caused.
A woman’s voice spoke nearby, and she thought it was in a different language, but she couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t rough like the beings she remembered but neither was the voice that had come through the speaker.
“You are safe, Ra’chel. It is all right.”
“Thran?” Rachel turned her head, the movement sending a searing jolt of pain down her spine.
“You are safe here,” he had stood up from a medical bed and was coming to her side. Next to him, was a middle-aged Chiss woman who had turned to her and was walking quickly toward them. She was the one who had spoken.
She spoke again in a language she thought she knew, but her brain wasn’t letting her comprehend.
Thran responded, and she caught the word ‘Basic’, but the other didn’t seem to know it.
“She says that you need to relax,” Thran translated, taking hold of her hand.
“What is this thing?” Rachel said, trying to gesture to the metal snake coiling around her body.
“They are biosensor rings,” Thran explained, his voice calm. “They are monitoring your vital signs and helping to encourage your body to heal itself.”
Rachel closed her eyes, trying to force her body to relax, but it wouldn’t. Everything hurt. No matter which way she tried to rest her body, something hurt. Thran’s grip on her hand tightened, and she tried to focus on that.
“Good,” she heard the woman say.
Rachel opened her eyes and looked at her. She had understood her.
The woman tilted her head. “Does she understand Cheunh?”
The question was meant for Thran, but Rachel nodded.
“I taught her some,” Thran answered.
“Yet she did not understand before now?” she said.
“Perhaps, given her mind’s heightened state of panic, she wasn’t able to comprehend it as clearly,” Thran offered.
“Perhaps,” the woman seemed to agree.
“I am sorry,” Rachel tried to say in their language, but her mouth was so dry that she knew she couldn’t properly form the words.
They both smirked, but Thran seemed to understand what she was trying to say.
“It’s all right, Ra’chel. Right now, you need rest so that your body may heal.”
“It will take time,” the woman said. “Your body sustained quite a bit of damage.”
Rachel’s stomach tightened. She knew the Council wouldn’t like this. They had likely noticed her absence by now, but for her to remain away even longer so that she could heal, or worse, come back injured—she wasn’t sure what the outcome would be.
And what would Master Ywin say?
Thran was studying her face. There were times like this when she wondered if he could read her thoughts.
“Are you all right?” Rachel asked, hoping to divert his attention.
She heard him give a small laugh. “You lie on a medical bed, and you ask if I am all right?”
The woman turned to Thran. “You both should be lying on medical beds,” she said in a chiding way. “You need to rest too.”
“I’m feeling fine,” Thran said. “I received minimal injuries.”
“Then resting should be easy for you,” she retorted.
Thran seemed like he was going to argue the point further but turned and walked back to his medical bed.
“You should sleep now,” she said turning back to Rachel. “It will make the healing process go faster.”
Rachel nodded, trying to take in the woman’s face more clearly. She was definitely older, but she had a strength in her that the years hadn’t taken away. She wore her hair back in a short ponytail, but she could see that throughout the day, some of her hair must have worked its way free, mostly the strands that were beginning to turn gray. Even though her features were sharp, her eyes held kindness.
As she closed her eyes, she tried to recall any Jedi healing techniques she could, but all she could see was a cage surrounding her, so she opened them again.
Thran was restless on his own bed. His lightheartedness had vanished, and she could sense his thoughts rolling over themselves causing different emotions to swirl around him: regret, anger, and guilt.
“It’s all right, Thran,” she said before she could stop herself.
The guilt in him rose higher. “It is not all right,” he said, his voice soft but tense.
“You couldn’t have known this would be the outcome.”
“I prepared for exactly this outcome,” his voice became sharp. “I prepared in advance that, should we not check in within a standard twenty-four hours, we were to be presumed captured or otherwise imprisoned, and that force may be necessary to extract us. I knew it was a likely outcome.”
She could sense his frustration and guilt rising with each sentence. “You couldn’t have known what they would do though.”
“Your own people were willing to torture you for information you did not possess,” he said quietly. “What was to prevent these people from torturing us for information that we do possess?”
Rachel couldn’t think of anything to counter his logic. So they remained silent for a while, and she could again sense his emotions swirling around him.
“But we didn’t give them any information,” Rachel said into the silence. “That has to count for something.”
He remained silent, but she could still sense his thoughts fighting against each other.
She felt his gaze turn toward her and his emotions shifted completely even though guilt remained.
“I still put you in harm’s way, and for that I must beg your forgiveness.”
Rachel turned to look in his direction, but the action caused pain to shoot down her spine again, but she found his glowing eyes in the dimness of the room.
“You asked for my help, and I agreed to go with you. I sensed the dangers and knew there was trouble. I could have pressed you harder to leave, but I didn’t. It was your mission. The Force told me to leave, but I chose to stay silent and go with you. If I had made us leave, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I should not have asked this of you in the first place.”
“You are my friend. I would do it again if you asked.”
“You could have died.”
“I don’t think they would have killed me.”
He was silent for a moment, and Rachel could sense his mind working through it.
“I see your reasoning,” he said almost reluctantly.
“If they had killed me, they would have no leverage on you.”
“Yes, I see that,” his voice was sharp, but Rachel could feel the pain he felt. The pain, and guilt, and even anger rose in him.
Searching the ceiling for the right words, Rachel found nothing that would ease his guilt. She could understand his frustration and anger, but she wanted him to know that it had also been her choice. He wasn’t solely to blame as he seemed to believe he was.
“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say, but it wasn’t the right thing because she felt a pain surge through him again. She closed herself off from his emotions. Whatever he was feeling, he needed to work through it on his own.
Turning her thoughts to healing, Rachel closed her eyes, and even though the visions of the cage surrounded her, she forced herself to focus on the Force, her breathing, and the injuries. If she remembered correctly, she could go into a healing trance which could help her body heal faster. The trouble was remembering how the holocron said to do it.
She pictured the holocron in her mind and replayed the memory.
“There are two ways to be awakened from this trance,” it had said. “The first is to wake naturally. This happens when your body is fully healed. Your mind wakes up from the trance at that point. However, this may take several hours to several days depending on the severity of your injuries, so the better option is the second: having someone available to wake you up using a word or phrase that you tell your mind to listen for. When your companion says this word or phrase, your mind will bring you out of the healing trance no matter how long you have been in it or at what stage of healing your body is in.”
Rachel could remember that much, but how did she start the meditation?
She glanced over at Thran who had turned away from her. Should she have him say something that should wake her up just in case? She wasn’t sure how long her injuries would take to heal. Could it take days?
“Thran?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes?”
“I want to try something. A type of Jedi healing, but I need a way to wake up.”
His anxiety rose, and he was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“There is a healing trance I can go into, but it could last for days if I’m not woken up.”
“How are you woken up?”
“I can set up a word or phrase that someone can say that will bring me out of the trance.”
“You are certain this works?”
“No. But I remember learning about it from a healing holocron, so I’m willing to try it.”
“That is not reassuring,” he said, turning to look at her.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I don’t want to be here for weeks healing. I know that my absence will be noticed at the temple, and I’d rather it not be longer than necessary.”
He sighed. “Very well. How should I wake you from this trance?”
Rachel hadn’t thought of a word. Simply her name wouldn’t do very well because he could easily wake her up just by talking about her. What phrases she thought of to wake someone up sounded ridiculous.
“Do you have any ideas?” she finally asked him.
She thought she sensed a hint of amusement.
“How about simply, welcome back?” he suggested.
She thought about it. “And if someone else comes in and welcomes you back?”
“I will add your name to it then.”
“All right. I guess that will work. I hope.”
“How will I know when to wake you?”
“These biosensor rings show my vital signs and how well my body is healing, right?”
“So when your body is sufficiently healed, you wish for me to wake you?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
He didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it, Rachel sensed, but she also didn’t want to be lying in a bed encased in these snake-like rings for days on end. She settled back into as comfortable a position as she could while her knee still coursed pain up her leg and her shoulder ached. There was nothing she could do about the wound on her back. The sooner she healed, the sooner it would be gone. She hoped.
She closed her eyes and focused on her wounds, feeling the pain, but allowing the Force to surround her and surround the injuries. Taking as deep a breath as she could, she found an inner calm, knowing that she was safe where she was. As she drifted off, she thought she heard a familiar voice that added to the calmness.
“Good night, Ra’chel,” Thran said quietly as he saw her close her eyes and relax. He knew that nightmares often came to her, so he hoped that this healing trance would not be filled with them. If he saw that it was, he would wake her up immediately.
She was putting her trust in him to wake her up when he believed her to be sufficiently healed.
That is a great deal of trust you are putting in me, he thought. But then, she had done the very same thing in coming with him on this mission. He knew the risks going into it. He had made the preparations with his brother that, should he not make contact, he was to be presumed captured and need a forceful extraction. He had known what he was getting them into, and Rachel had gone along willingly.
The guilt threatened to overwhelm him again. Why had he asked her to go with him? He knew the risks! He put her life on the line. She had trusted him, and he broke that trust by letting her be harmed.
If they had killed me, they would have no leverage on you. If they had killed her…
He felt his jaw tense. If they had killed her, he would have killed every single being with his bare hands.
Thran looked over at Rachel’s sleeping face. Despite everything they had put her through, she never broke. Her strength had become his own each time he heard her voice telling him to remain silent. If her actions didn’t earn the Syndicure’s respect, he wasn’t sure their respect could ever be earned. They owed her, and he would make sure they knew it.
Thran woke with a start. Taking in his surroundings, he remembered where he was and looked over to where Rachel still slept on her medical bed.
He sat up and started to stand.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
Thran turned to see Doctor Ziatros walking toward him.
“I was going to check on Ra’chel,” he replied. “How is she?”
Ignoring her warning glare, he walked over to Rachel’s bed. Just looking at her, he could see improvement.
“To be completely honest,” she said, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief, “I’ve never seen our equipment work this quickly on injuries this severe.”
Thran looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
“The system indicates that the muscles in her shoulder are almost completely healed. The wound in her back is forming perfect scar tissue over itself, and, well, just look at her. Her bruises and scratches and scars are nearly healed.”
Thran turned back to Rachel, staring down at her face. It looked both at peace yet in firm concentration.
“Has she…” he began, almost afraid to ask. “Has she shown any signs of having nightmares?”
“Nightmares?” she asked. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
Thran let out a breath then realized. “You didn’t say anything about her leg.”
She hesitated. “It’s healing, but the way the scar tissue is forming…I don’t think it will ever truly heal correctly. I believe her leg will continue to give her problems.”
“Is there nothing else that can help?” Thran asked. “Bacta, perhaps?”
“We don’t have any left on board,” she said. “We used what we had after the last battle we were in.”
Thran nodded. His brother had told him about it. Many warriors had been lost; many more had been injured.
“Has any progress been made on identifying the enemy?” Thran asked.
“Not as far as I’m aware,” she replied.
He nodded again. “How much longer until we arrive?”
She pulled out her questis and scrolled through it. “Six hours by Sky-walker, but I doubt she’s up there right now. We are likely in jump by jump right now.”
“You’re certain of that?”
“She was in third sight when the Earthling last woke, and that was five hours ago. She will likely be taking a break at the moment. She’s a young one.”
“I see,” he said, looking down at Rachel. “I’ll let her sleep for now. Perhaps a bit longer in the healing trance will help her. I’ll wake her when we’re closer.”
“Healing trance?”
“Yes. She believed her wounds would heal faster if she went into a Jedi healing trance, but she also didn’t know how long she would need to be in the trance, so we arranged that I would wake her when her wounds seemed sufficiently healed.”
Doctor Ziatros stared at him, trying to process it all.
“That explains the quick recovery,” her words stumbled out. “I thought it seemed odd. I have never seen our equipment work this fast.”
“I wasn’t certain about it when she told me about it,” he admitted. “But seeing the results—I don’t know why I doubted.”
Doctor Ziatros turned to him. “And what about your wounds?”
“As I said, I feel fine.”
“Blaster burns and electrocutions leave plenty of damage.”
“I am in no pain,” Thran assured her. “Whatever you gave me initially has worked.”
She eyed him sternly but didn’t argue with him.
“All right. You’re free to go then. I’ll let you know if anything changes with the Earthling.”
“Her name is Ra’chel,” he said pointedly.
“Ra’chel,” she repeated. “I shall inform you if there are any changes.”
“Thank you.”
Thran was reluctant to leave because he didn’t want to leave Rachel there alone, but he also knew there was little he could do to aid her healing. So he opted to find his brother in order to thank him for coming to his aid.
Although, it seemed that his brother had the same idea because he wound up meeting him in the corridor leading away from the med bay.
“Doctor Ziatros letting you go already?” Thoorlyk asked.
“If you could even call me injured in the first place,” he retorted.
“It could have been worse,” his brother chided him.
“You don’t need to lecture me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, gesturing down the hall the way he had come. “That wasn’t my intention.”
They fell into step and walked a few paces before Thran finally found the right words. “Thank you, Thoorlyk. I know things could have ended much worse if you hadn’t come. I appreciate your assistance.”
“Of course,” he answered. “May I ask though, what did you hope to gain from this?”
“It would have been our first ally,” he said.
“And so you lost sight of caution in your enthusiasm?”
“I didn’t lose sight of it.”
“Ah, yes. You had me for back up and a Jedi bodyguard, how could I forget.”
Thran clenched his jaw to hold back the retort that jumped to his mind.
“Just out of curiosity,” Thoorlyk continued, “why did you bring a Jedi?”
“She isn’t just a Jedi,” Thran said.
“I know. She’s the Earthling you brought back from the Second Galaxy. Why her? The Jedi Council didn’t have anyone else to spare?”
“I didn’t ask the Council,” Thran admitted. “I asked her.”
“Why?”
The guilt came rushing back, and if he were with anyone other than his brother, he would have done a better job of hiding it.
“You really didn't think this would get out of hand, did you?” Thoorlyk asked.
He couldn’t speak. The images of Rachel being tortured were burned into his mind, and her screams still echoed in his ears.
“I should have listened to her.” He finally said.
Thoorlyk gave him a questioning look.
“The instant we landed, she knew something was wrong, and I ignored her instincts. If I had listened to her, she wouldn't have gotten hurt.”
Thoorlyk sighed. “You know what the Syndicure is going to say.”
He did. They would say Rachel knew too much about the Ascendency and was dangerous, and he was meddling too closely with her and the Jedi.
“Thran?”
“I know,” he huffed. “That doesn’t mean they’re right.”
“You need to be careful. The Syndicure already pulled you from the Exploration Force because of her, do you really want to risk your new career for her?”
“She chose to come with me from her galaxy because I believed she could be a Jedi.”
“And she’s fulfilling that. Let her live her life as a Jedi and walk away.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I promised her that I would always remain her friend,” he said firmly. “I have no intention of breaking that promise.”
Thoorlyk shook his head. “This is dangerous, Thran.”
He turned to face his brother. “The entire time we were on Rattatak, do you know which of us was stronger?” he asked.
Thoorlyk’s eyes narrowed questioningly.
“Ra’chel,” Thran said. “They tortured her on a gamble that she knew something about the Ascendency, but she never broke. She made sure I stayed quiet.”
“You needed reminding?”
His earlier anger rose again as he stared directly into Thoorlyk’s eyes. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch your friend be tortured while you’re helpless to do a damn thing?”
His brother’s face softened only a little, but his eyes remained firm. “As warriors, we are trained to make ourselves numb to such things.” He paused. “But no, I have never watched a friend go through anything like what Ra’chel went through.”
“She cares about our people,” Thran said, turning to resume their walk. “And how is the Syndicure going to repay her?”
“The only way it knows how,” Thoorlyk caught up with him. “Self-preservation.”
“They can’t force me to end my friendship with her.”
“Actually, they have that authority. They could lock down your ship and force you to stay in the Ascendency for good, and you know it.”
He hated that his brother was right. They walked for a while longer in silence before Thoorlyk changed the subject slightly.
“Does Father know?” he asked.
“About Ra’chel or about Rattatak?”
“I told him about Rattatak, and I know he’ll ask you for more details, but I was referring to Ra’chel. Does he know how much you care about her?”
“He knows that we are friends,” Thran answered. “He actually seemed to like her when she was at the homestead.”
“He met her?”
“He did, and like I said, he likes her.”
“That’s more than you can say about some of the women you’ve courted.”
Thran shot him a look.
“What?” Thoorlyk chuckled. “You really think Father liked Bicendi or what was that other girl’s name? Sakiia?”
“Just because you didn’t like them doesn’t mean Father shared your views. Not that that matters anymore.”
“I’m just saying it’s interesting that Father likes this alien better, that’s all. No need to get all defensive.”
“If you’re trying to make a point, then I suggest you make it,” Thran said, letting his brother see his exasperation. “Otherwise, it would be best if you quit while you’re behind.”
The smirk that came to Thoorlyk’s face reminded him of when they were younger and he enjoyed getting Thran worked up like this. “You know I’m only joking around,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to.”
“The Admiral doesn’t appreciate your sense of humor?” Thran goaded him.
“She doesn’t think it’s my best quality,” he smirked again. “Not fitting for a First Officer, but she tolerates it.”
“I’m glad someone does.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But Thran just laughed at his brother’s hurt expression. There were few people he truly joked around with, and Thoorlyk had always been one of them. He honestly found himself looking forward to a day when Rachel might give his brother a real run for his money.
First, they needed to survive the Syndicure’s scrutiny.
Out of the haze and darkness, Rachel heard a voice calling her.
“Welcome back, Ra’chel.”
She knew that voice, and she slowly opened her eyes, pushing the fogginess out of her mind.
The room was not as dimly lit as before, but the lights were still low.
“How are you feeling?” a female voice asked.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel became more awake and aware of where she was and why she was here. She did a mental check down her body. Nothing hurt—she moved her shoulders, arms, hands, mentally checked her torso.
Then she remembered.
She moved her left shoulder again. No pain. She moved slightly on the bed and felt nothing from her back where she had forced the knife. As she moved her left leg, she felt an odd twinging that wasn’t entirely painful but was definitely uncomfortable.
“Take it easy,” the female Chiss said next to her as she tried to sit up.
“I feel fine,” Rachel explained. “There is no pain.” She looked at Thran. “It worked.”
He smiled, and Rachel sensed relief wash over him.
“All scans indicate that your wounds have healed,” the doctor told her. “Scar tissue has completely formed over the knife wound on your back. All fractures are mended, and your shoulder is completely healed. You would never know that it had been dislocated.”
Rachel moved her knee again. “What about my leg?” she asked. “There is no pain, but it feels…um.”
She looked at Thran, uncertain of the correct word. “Uncomfortable,” she said in Basic, and he translated for her.
“Your knee was torn very badly,” the doctor said. “Some of the muscles and ligaments would have needed a complicated surgery to fix. You fixed it on your own, but the way it healed…I’m not certain it will ever be the same as it was.”
Rachel nodded. At least it healed. She could get used to how it felt now.
“I have a room set up for you,” Thran said. “I presumed you would not want to remain in medical for the whole trip.”
Rachel smiled a little and nodded.
“That is,” he looked at the doctor, “If Doctor Ziatros is all right with your leaving.”
“Her wounds are healed,” Doctor Ziatros said. “If she can prove to me that she can walk all right, she is free to leave.”
They helped her out of the biosensor rings, and Rachel pushed herself off the table and started to walk around in a small circle. Her knee twinged with each step, but it didn’t hurt, so Doctor Ziatros gave her permission to leave, and Thran gestured to the door.
While they walked, they passed almost no one, and they walked in silence for a while. Rachel tentatively reached out to sense his emotions, but there were none of the ones she had felt before going into the trance. Either he had buried them far below his surface or had resolved them. She wouldn’t pry though. There were other things they could discuss.
But Thran got there first.
“I believe we both know how they will rule on this,” he said, switching to Basic.
“The Syndicure?”
“As much as I would like to force them to see logic and reason, I am not certain they will.”
Rachel stared at the floor as though studying where she was placing each footstep. He was right. Regardless of her actions one way or the other, the Aristocra would only see an Outsider meddling where she didn’t belong.
“What do you think their sentence will be?” she asked, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“On the lighter side,” he said, “they will force us to never communicate or see each other again.”
She turned to stare at him. That was light?
“On the heavier side,” he continued, “they could end my Ambassadorship to the Republic thereby forcing me to remain within Ascendency borders for good.”
Her heart sank as her forehead tensed with dread. She knew how much that position meant to him. He had worked for months to get it. If the Syndicure decided to take that out from under him, it would destroy him. He had already lost his position in the Exploration Force. Would they really take this away from him too?
Either way, they wouldn’t allow them to remain friends. Rachel knew too much about the Ascendency.
As they stepped into the room Thran had prepared for her, she first noted how similar it was to the suite she had been given aboard the Star-Jumper, then she felt a familiar sensation and turned her head down the hallway.
“What is it?” Thran asked, following her gaze.
She shook her head as she stared through the Force, past the hallway in front of them. “Nothing.”
But when she turned back to him, he raised an eyebrow as his glowing eyes studied her.
“What?”
His forehead tensed, and he lowered his gaze. “Nothing, I suppose,” he said softly.
He knew she was lying, she realized. While he didn’t like it, he accepted it, and that bothered her. She had never told him about the bond she had made with the girl who navigated the Star-Jumper. No one had known they had made a connection. While it wasn’t Al’aniet navigating the ship right now, there was someone who had just taken them into hyperspace. Someone very young.
If she wasn’t going to be allowed to talk to Thran ever again, she might as well tell him.
Gesturing into the room, she asked him to stay and talk.
“When we were travelling from my galaxy to yours,” she began as they sat down opposite each other on the couch and chair, “do you remember when we were in the forward viewing room and I said I saw planets and stars, and the ship stopped abruptly?”
“Of course,” he said.
“It turned out—”
“You saw into Al’aniet’s mind,” he said.
Rachel stared at him. “How—”
“I questioned her after the incident, and she had seen things from Earth in her dreams just as you had seen things from her mind. But it was agreed upon that you two were not to be told about each other.”
“That didn’t work,” she said.
“I did not think it would.”
“I spoke with her many times during the trip. Not in person. It’s…hard to describe. I could hear her voice in my mind, and we could talk that way.”
He nodded and leaned forward. “The Sky-walkers are the closest kept secret of the Chiss,” his voice turned grave. “No one, and I mean noone, can ever know what you know.”
“I think you know me well enough to know that I would never tell anyone.”
“I believe you,” he said. “And your actions have proven it, but it is the Syndicure that needs convincing.”
“Not just the Syndicure,” she said, looking down at the floor.
“You believe the Jedi will have an equally harsh judgment?”
“Why wouldn’t they? I left without sanction from the Council, Master Ywin, or the Senate. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I have no idea what I’ll be walking into when I return.”
“It scares you.”
She looked at him. He was studying her again.
“The Syndicure doesn’t scare you?”
He looked away.
“I do not fear them,” he said quietly. “I fear never seeing you again, and they have the authority to pass that judgment.”
For a long moment, they were silent.
“I guess,” Rachel said softly, “all we can do is plead our cases.”
Thran nodded and stood to leave. “I will let you know when we arrive,” he said, but paused as though he remembered something. “The warriors who rescued us found your lightsaber.”
Her heart skipped in her chest. “Where?”
“The Rattataki who were observing our torture had it with them. I told them to leave it in here for you, but I don’t see…” he turned around as though searching, but she reached out and sensed the crystal as it called to her, and she lifted it from the table next to the door, and it flew to her hand.
“Found it,” she said with a small smile.
He smiled at her. “I’ll see you soon.”
Thran had let her know they had arrived, but no one came to get her for quite some time.
When the door opened, Rachel saw a familiar Chiss man walk in, and she stood up from the couch, feeling her knee twinge under her weight.
“Greetings, Ra’chel,” Patriarch Mitth’yod’arik said in Cheunh.
“I greet you, your Venerante.” She remembered the formal Chiss greeting.
He raised his eyebrows. “So you do know our language. I thought my son would teach you.”
She tensed. “I understand it better than I speak it,” she admitted. She knew she still struggled to find words and get her mouth to say certain words.
“You speak it better than other outsiders,” he said. “And don’t worry, Thran has told me of your actions on Rattatak, and I wished to come and thank you personally for what you have done for the Ascendency.”
Rachel looked at him, puzzled, but remained silent. She wasn’t expecting to receive thanks for her and Thran’s actions. He had gone to an alien race to seek an alliance, something for which the Syndicure was likely to reprimand him, and for her part in it, they would likely order her to stay away.
“The Syndicure will say otherwise,” Thyodar continued, “as they usually do. They do what they must to protect the needs and interests of the Ascendency. However, despite the ramifications of Thran’s plan in undertaking this mission, you kept the Ascendency safe. For that, you have my respect, and they ought to be grateful.”
“What will happen to Thran?” Rachel asked.
Thyodar sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I believe they will order him to cut all communications with you.”
A heavy weight fell on Rachel’s chest, and her heart sank into her stomach. She had figured as much, but to hear it with such certainty only made it that much worse.
“I cannot,” she whispered, the mixture of guilt, remorse, and anger building inside her. How could they make her do that?
He studied her, and Rachel saw the similarities between him and Thran in the way his eyes studied her.
“I understand that such a course of action will be difficult,” he said. “But it may be what is best for the protection of the Ascendency.”
“What about what is best for your son?” Rachel asked without thinking. She wasn’t sure if it was proper to talk in such a way to a Patriarch, but assumed it probably wasn’t.
He merely lifted an eyebrow ever so slightly and looked at her for a brief moment before taking a deep breath and looking down. “I understand that he has a strong friendship with you,” he said. “While such a friendship ought to be a good thing, the Syndicure fears it.”
“Because I am not Chiss,” Rachel said.
“Do not take it personally. All outsiders are seen through the same narrow lens.”
Rachel looked at him suspiciously. “You do not?”
He gave her a somewhat innocent look. “While I may not go so far as Thran has in his quest to build this relationship with the Republic, I am not opposed to it the way the Syndicure is. I am a bit more open-minded than that.”
Rachel smirked. That was where Thran got it from then. His father was a strong political leader and had an open opinion about other beings outside of Chiss borders. Thran merely took things one step further.
Rachel thought for a moment. “If I may ask, your Venerante, what would happen if Thran and I went against the Syndicure’s wishes and still communicated?”
To Rachel’s surprise, he smirked. “Coruscant is a long way from here. I don’t think the Syndicure can control what Thran does while he’s there.”
Rachel stared at him. “They would allow him to return to Coruscant?”
“Perhaps,” the Patriarch said. “But it would not be for a while. They also lack the ability to monitor all private communications.”
In other words, what the Syndicure didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
“And if I happen to overhear anything while he’s at the homestead,” he said with a shrug, “who am I supposed to know with whom he is communicating?”
Rachel couldn’t keep the smile from coming to her face. “Thank you.”
“I can see how much your friendship means to my son,” he said, and she felt a sadness creep past his stoic barrier. “He cares a great deal about you. I don’t want to see him lose that after he’s already lost so much.”
She couldn’t find words. The emotions she sensed from him cut her heart as much as his words had.
“I must go,” he said. “I am expected at your pre-hearing meeting.”
She watched him leave, but it was a while before she could sit down. The Syndicure was preparing to judge them. And for her part, all she could do was wait.