Bastion

Admiral Vikar looked at Theren a few times over the datapad, as he always did when reading a report. It seemed that he was trying to match the words to the man, as if the young commodore’s actions and ideas did not fit his average stature and thin frame. When, at last, he seemed to be finished, he smiled. “It’s very good,” he said. “Very good. Revolutionary, to say the least. If it’s executed, they’ll be studying it for years to come…”

“Thanks,” Theren replied.

“Based on… ah… history?” Vikar asked, thumbing a few of the datapad’s buttons. “The Vong?”

“Good guess. That’s where I got the idea, along with a few chronologies of some very successful pirates in the Outer Rim.”

“I suppose that Simon Kaine has already seen a copy of this?”

“More than one.”

Vikar nodded slowly. “One must wonder of course, how we would acquire the necessary intelligence for such a series of undertakings –”

Theren chuckled.

“Is something funny?” Vikar queried, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly the question I asked Kaine. He said that we’d have ways. Of obtaining that intelligence, I mean.”

Vikar nodded, putting the datapad down. For some time, the two sat in silence, an invisible question hanging in the air between them. “Aren’t you going to ask what that is?” Theren wondered out loud, somewhat sardonically. “Or do you already know?”

The elderly, thin man shrugged nonchalantly.

“Give me a fucking break,” Theren said, not entirely to Vikar. “Come on, you people can’t possibly think you can play me like this. Nothing to tell me?”

“I don’t know what you –”

“Nothing to tell me about Naboo? About Corellia?” Theren pressed, leaning forward in his chair, his mouth a hard line.

Vikar looked his protégé in the eye, seemingly weighing consequences. “If you’re talking about Darksword –”

“Of course I’m talking about Darksword!” Theren snapped. “For fuck sake, I’m not talking about the Queen of Naboo!”

“You’ve defended Darksword countless times, Theren. You’ve made very persuasive arguments against his belonging to that cult, and I think you may need to begin listening to them.”

“Don’t handle me,” Theren warned, through clenched teeth. “And don’t give me that shit. I don’t want INS answers.”

“Why don’t you ask Simon Kaine all of this?”

“When you’re a commodore on speaking terms with the Grand Marshall, you don’t push your luck,” Theren replied, without missing a beat. “Kaine sanctions the independence I’ve achieved within the chain of command. The second his protection comes off, another Kroth will try to come along and cut me down.”

“I think you’re downplaying your own importance,” Vikar said, shaking his head.

“Maybe so. I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re putting me in a difficult position, Theren. There’s only so much I can tell you,” Vikar sighed.

“Why, because men in black suits will take you away in the middle of the night –”

“Because there is only so much I know, for one thing!” Vikar exclaimed, cutting Theren off. He sat back, closing his tired old eyes and resting his head. “And for another… you may make jokes, but…”

Theren scoffed. “Don’t give me that black speeder in the desert shit.”

“This isn’t ‘black speeder shit’, Theren,” Vikar said, opening his eyes and looking into Theren’s very seriously. “Do you honestly not think that there are those in the Empire who have full security clearance, who come and go as they please and, in one way or another, own a little piece of us all?”

“Come on,” Theren said, this time only half-heartedly. “If you’re talking about Imperial Intelligence, well, there are secrets, and then there are these kind of secrets. The military rules the Empire –”

“And the higher you go, the more the lines between military and intelligence blur.”

Theren’s eyes softened as he noted real anxiety in Vikar’s eyes. “Just give me one name, then,” he said softly. “If you can’t tell me, I’ll find one of ‘them’ and ask, myself.”

Vikar shook his head sadly. “These men don’t have names, Theren. And they can’t be found.”

“Just one,” Theren said. “They must have some sort of reference –”

“Ciscero, Theren. Ciscero. And I wash my hands of what becomes of you if you try track him down.”

Alsakan Academy,
Alsakan

Theren stalked slowly across the head of auditorium-style classroom. While the Caridan Academy was one of militant learning almost exclusively, the commodore had personally ensure that the Alsakan Academy be one currying to all forms of education; philosophy, math, social sciences, as well as the science of war. “Everyone’s heard the old maxim that those who don’t know of the past are doomed to repeat it. I’ve been told that a thousand times, by a thousand people. Who else has?”

Theren Gevel was the archetypal academic cynic; the stooping posture, square-framed spectacles, pale complexion and thin frame surprised most who met him after hearing of his exploits, expecting a tall, more masculine man. He even clenched a cigarra in his mouth, smoking as he spoke. Most hands were raised in response to his question. “And how many of you believe it?”

Most let their hands remain in the air, but a few let them drop. Theren approached the nearest one, smirking slightly. “You don’t?”

“No, sir.”

“Why?”

“I think that repetition of the past is a myth – a series of twenty-twenty-hindsight patterns created by a vague set of connections made by starry-eyed academics.”

Theren blinked nonchalantly, nodding. “So then you’d say that the similarities of the decline and fall of the Republic to the decline and fall of certain ancient empires on the human home world are just pure coincidence?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. He was tanned, muscular, straight-backed and blond. So much could be told simply from a person’s appearance. Others brushed this aside as shallow, but Theren was firmly of the belief that a great deal of personality shone through in appearance – to the careful observer. “I do, sir.”

“Interesting. If I may ask, what are you here to study?”

“I’m a military tactics major.”

“Here to get your credit and get the fuck out, are we?” Theren asked sarcastically, moving away to the next dissenter. “What about you?”

The girl was young, probably only twenty. A pretty brunette who seemed to furrow her brows a disproportionate amount of the time. “I think we repeat the past by choice.”

“By choice?”

“Most cultures that end up lost in a repeating cycle of their own histories do it because they’re trying to recreate a ‘golden age’ – some sort of era when everything was alright, and they were the masters of all creation. They always, ultimately, fail, because –”

“There never was a golden era,” Theren finished, smiling. “You’re closer than you think. You have the truth at least half right – often, the past is repeated by making the same mistake, over and over; that mistake being an attempt to recreate the past. But that’s impossible. Can I ask you your name?”

“Alysha.”

“Alysha, you forget that most men have only the best of intentions when they fall into the trap we’re talking about. There are learned men with as much intelligence as we, who ascend to positions of power, and who then find themselves spiraling into an endless chasm of repetition of history. They realize what they’ve done only when it’s too late. The most fucking golden of intentions are tarnished over time.”

The girl stared up at him with the sort of enraptured attention that so many women affixed on intelligent men with power. Attractive or not, Theren had very little interest in her. Intentions weren’t the only thing tarnished by time, and the governor of the Bastion Conclave was bitter to a degree that rendered most relationships meaningless. A man with his charisma and position could acquire the most lovely of companions. After so long in the limelight, he’d experienced all there was to experience of secret, clandestine affairs with beautiful women. It seemed quite empty to him, now. “You mean that we repeat the past because we desire not to?”

“Not because we desire not to, no,” Theren replied. “In spite of it, really. You struck on the truth – everyone believes themselves and their time to be somehow special, somehow apart from all the others. They believe that their time is the most critical, the most important in all of history, and that only they rationally recognize danger.”

Towards the rear of the classroom, a man – suited in black, nonchalant in his motions – entered, and sat down, taking on a look of attentiveness. Theren’s eyes flickered towards him only briefly. “That’s not the case. You and I, we’re not anywhere near as important as we think. In a thousand years, there will be a kid who is born on this world, and the name Theren Gevel will not mean a thing to him. Everyone says that knowledge is the antidote for the repetition of the past. I think that’s bullshit. I think that we’re doomed to repeat history, knowingly or not.

“I think we’re constantly careening towards the repetition of the past, out of control because we can never fully accept our own unimportance in anything more than an academic sense. We’re trapped in a narcissism that envelops everyone and everything. You, me, Simon Kaine himself. We believe it so sincerely that even as I stand up here saying this, I can never really, fully accept it.

“We believe that our age is the one that will define the universe forever and ever, and so we try as hard as we can to etch what we feel is good onto the galaxy. Every society since the beginning of time has believed that the world was going to hell in a handbasket, and only they could stop it. And that is why the cycle continues. But we’re still here, and if the continued existence of life really rested in the hands of men, I assure you, we wouldn’t be.

“Everyone’s afraid that the galaxy is going to be destroyed – that the Empire and the rebellion will wipe each other out, ravage a million worlds. They think we need to stop it now, before it’s too late, whether stopping it means crushing the rebels or bringing down the Empire. But the problem isn’t that the universe is going to end – it’s that it just fucking won’t. Everything just keeps going when it should have ended a long time ago.

“And so, the cycle continues. I’ve taken up enough of your time; thanks for having me.”

The student body burst into applause, the professor stepping forward, shaking Theren’s hand and congratulating him on a brilliant lecture. But the Governor’s attention was elsewhere; on the man, at the back, who sat there clapping with the rest of the students, seemingly having thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Theren excused himself, emerging into one of the pristine halls of the Alsakan Academy. He’d only begun to march determinedly down the hallway when the voice came behind him. It had been expected. “I thought it was a rather excellent speech.”

Slowly turning, still clutching the cigarra in his mouth. The man was of average height, average weight, and average skin tone, possessed of dark hair styled in an average fashion. To most, he would have appeared just a normal spectator – perhaps a university professor. But there was something distinctly abnormal about the man that stood before him. “Ciscero,” he breathed.

“Perceptive,” Ciscero said, stepping forward and offering his hand. Theren didn’t take it. “Very well,” he continued, unabashed. “I was informed that you are somewhat suspect of authority. Not that I am an authority, of course,” he said, smiling.

“Of course. You found me pretty quickly. What’s it been, ten hours since I started the Zenith’s slicers running a trace?”

“That’s all I needed.”

“So, what? Did Vikar rat me out?” Theren asked bitterly, dragging on the cigarra.

“No, as a matter of fact,” Ciscero replied, shaking his head solemnly. “Vikar is as doggedly loyal to you as you are to him; you should know that, by now. Even this minute, he sits at home, writing out his last will and testament – because he knows the penalty for betraying the identity of a ranking Imperial Intelligence operative is death. He could turn you in and shirk the penalty, but he won’t.”

Theren lowered his eyes, somewhat ashamed for doubting his mentor. “And you’re going to kill him, then?” He asked, fixing his gaze back on Ciscero, his eyes gleaming with fire.

“Once again, no.” Ciscero adjusted one of his cufflinks. “You were bound to find out certain things I can tell you sooner or later anyway; given your level of political influence, I don’t think it is possible to keep them all from you. After all, you found the Genoharadan, didn’t you?”

Theren’s eyes narrowed. “So you know about that.”

“Of course. I know a great many things.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, “Fucking wonderful. So, what now?”

“Well, as I said, Admiral Vikar will not be punished. You, on the other hand, Commodore, have shown yourself to be something of a thorn in the side of Imperial Intelligence and Imperial High Command. Like sand, you have a way of getting where you are not wanted. Regardless of your usefulness to the Imperial cause, I have decided to take measures to rectify this situation.”

Theren swallowed, but continued to meet Ciscero’s eyes. He would meet death with his honor and dignity. “And what measures would those be? What’s my punishment, Ciscero? Flogging? Death?”

“Worse.” Ciscero looked down at a datapad, flipping through it, chuckling slightly. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”



The spaceflight to their destination – whatever it was, and Theren didn’t dare push his luck by asking – was fairly uneventful. His head rested against the viewport, Theren let the comforting thrum of the shuttle relax his frayed nerves. Ciscero, sitting in the isle across from him, began to speak. “I’ve followed your rise to power very closely, you know, Mr. Gevel. Found it one of the more interesting forms of entertainment available to me, and there is a considerable selection at my disposal.”

“Oh really,” Theren replied sarcastically.

“Really,” Ciscero continued. “I appraise people as a way of life, Mr. Gevel, and let me tell you, you are rather tougher to read than most. Your actions seem to contradict one another; you don’t seem to have any ambition or lust for power, yet you took command of Vikar’s protectorate when he offered it to you. You’ve turned down promotions, but your career, in a way, began when you fought Commodore Shyle’s treachery tooth and nail.”

“I’m glad that I’m such a puzzle for you,” Theren said.

“No, no, I doubt you are. As I said, Mr. Gevel, I read people for a living, and while you were difficult, I eventually arrived at a conclusion. Using, as you might have advised me to, your history, in fact.”

Theren pulled his head off of the viewport. “It’s all a fucking game to you, isn’t it, Ciscero?”

Ciscero only chuckled. “You see, Mr. Gevel, if there is one thing you hate, it is authority. Not power, but authority. Your whole life, those with authority have reigned over you; the rich, on Coruscant; Commodore Shyle; Admiral Kroth. The difference between power and the authority that you loathe is that while power is taken, authority is granted. As I see it, you feel that those who have oppressed and wronged you by exercising their authority, during your life, were undeserving of their power; that it was inherited, wielded though it was not their own.”

“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? All the world’s just a goddamn game to the mighty Ciscero – just a riddle to be solved.”

“Ah, but the world is just a riddle; those who emerge on top are those who solve it quickest. You, Mr. Gevel, will take power however you can – so long as you perceive it to be in a way that sticks it to the administration, in a manner of speaking. You perceive yourself to be a rabble-rouser, a bitter, impassioned, but ostracized leader off to the sidelines. You jeer at those you do not feel to have earned their positions, or who abuse their power. You have sworn to yourself you will not be one of them; you will be different, once you acquire your power.”

Theren said nothing.

“But would you like to know something, Mr. Gevel?” Ciscero asked, leaning towards Theren but not waiting for an answer. Now he spoke scarcely above a whisper. “Do you honestly think you could have come this far were it not for my blessing? Recall your own speech on Alsakan. You are not so very different than those you despise… you believe yourself incorruptible, but you are not. The cycle has already begun, and you are already what you’ve come to hate. Sooner or later, you will discover this.”

Theren trembled with suppressed rage. He slowly put his head back against the cool viewport, forcing his eyes away from the intelligence operative. “I hope your wisdom chokes you.”

“It hasn’t yet.”

Xa Fel

Both men stepped through the broad durasteel doors. Theren kept his eyes straight ahead. What Ciscero had said struck a chord, and that only made it worse; not a word had been exchanged between the two of them after the conversation onboard the shuttle. Ciscero was the one who broke the silence. “What you are about to see, of course, is of the highest classification. Few, if any, truly know of it, though many spill their theories regarding it.”

They passed by a black-cloaked soldier, who saluted to Ciscero, and arrived at some sort of elevated walkway. They climbed a short set of stairs, into a narrow corridor framed with transparisteel, looking down on rooms below. When Theren said nothing, Ciscero continued. “You wanted to know of our advanced intelligence resources, of course. The ones that Simon Kaine spoke of. In fact, you yourself have rebutted the words of many of those who have spouted their aforementioned theories regarding that intelligence.”

And then the startling reality of it all hit Theren like a brick to the skull. The cloaked soldiers; the stark architecture of the building; the training areas below and the observation deck they stood on. With one look through the transparisteel, it became painfully clear, as the lines of red light traced their way through his eyes.

He was in a Sith temple. Below, Sith were dueling with swords of light and plasma.

“The Sith,” Ciscero said, “have been an integral part of the Empire since its conception. They are our answer to the theocracy of the Jedi; they have been among our founding members. To this day, they continue their work as enforcers, operatives, and soldiers. We sanction their existence and they stay out of our way, contributing to our cause occasionally but primarily working towards their own ends.”

Theren stopped dead, looking around slowly, only meeting Ciscero’s eyes after a very long time. His heart pounded in his ears, his hands shook. He slammed a fist against the transparisteel. “What about… Naboo? Darksword?”

Ciscero shrugged nonchalantly. “Twisted logic of the rebels aside, there was truth to their tales.”

He continued to shake. His hands were cold. “And Hyfe?”

Ciscero hesitated, and the nodded slowly.

Theren snapped. In an instant, he was against Ciscero, his thin frame surprisingly strong, grabbing him by the collar, forcing him against the wall. “It was a fucking lie all along! Everything! Everything I’ve ever fought for – you fucking @#%$, you murderer –!”

Ciscero reversed the direction of Theren’s forceful assault, throwing him to the ground. Not to be deterred from his blind rage, crawling on his hands and knees, he leapt for the intelligence agent’s legs, knocking him to the ground and groping for his neck.

One of the cloaked Sith stepped up the stairs, onto the walkway. Drawing a pistol in one, smooth motion, he fired a stun blast into Theren, and the Governor knew no more.



He awoke in the hospital ward of the temple an indeterminate amount of time later. Theren’s eyes quickly refocused, finding Ciscero sitting a short distance away on a chair, behind him. He found that he wasn’t restrained, and quickly sat up.

“You attacked a member of Imperial Intelligence. I could kill you right now, and never have to explain why, you know.”

“Why take me here just to kill me?” Theren asked.

Ciscero chuckled. “I must admit I expected nothing less than such a reaction. You did ask to know, however, as I seem to recall. In your heart of hearts, Mr. Gevel, you have known all along, I am quite sure.”

“I’d heard the rumors. I had hoped it was just an isolated incident, blown out of proportion – exaggerated rebel mythology. Fucking anything, anything but this.”

“But you knew.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Theren replied icily. “How many innocents have they killed? Thousands? Millions? Billions? Is it worth it to know that you’ve got your own personal stable of Jedi? I know all about these Sith. They’re killers, and nothing more.”

“Yes, and no. It’s true that they are often brutal in their methods, Mr. Gevel, but the alternative is to allow the Jedi theocrats to run wild in the galaxy.”

“I can’t get my head around it. I can’t rationalize it. This is just too wicked, too goddamn evil.”

“Good and evil are a matter of perspective, Mr. Gevel; you yourself have said this on a number of occasions. The Empire does not sanction such religious terminology. There is only what is right and just, and the Empire is right and just. It will bring peace and order to the galaxy.”

Theren looked back at him. “Those are my lines.”

“Too right they are. And they’re true. For too long, you’ve concerned yourself with fitting your world into the carefully contrived morality you cling to, despite your words to the contrary; for too long you’ve relied on the crutch of a dualistic world to support your convictions. But you know as well as I do that dualism is an illusion; not all is black and white.”

“It’ll never be the same again, Ciscero, no matter what you’ve got to say.”

“It seldom is, once the truth is known. But you have got to believe in your own convictions, Mr. Gevel, enough to stand on your own two feet and say ‘Here I am, this is what I believe’. Good and evil, light and dark, are all just terms used to rationalize by the rebellion. Stop rationalizing your actions with rebel logic. You are strong enough to believe what you believe without such nonsense. If I did not believe that, you wouldn’t be here.”

Theren looked at the ground. “Yeah.”

“I mean it,” Ciscero said, standing up and taking another seat, this one facing Theren. “Now, if you please, I would like to discuss this plan of yours – and I have a colleague who would like to join us.”

And through the doors stepped a hooded figure.

But even so, for the first time in a long time, Theren was not afraid that what he was doing was wrong.