Chapter Text

Reevaluation

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"Dear passengers! We have just received landing clearance for Coronet Central Spaceport and will touch down in twenty minutes. We would like to thank you for choosing CoreFlight Spacelines and wish you a nice stay on Corellia. Please make sure you bring along your luggage and keep your documents ready for inspection by the Corellian Customs Agency. Thank you!"

Donos looked up from the issue of The Coronet Tribune he'd been reading and threw a glance at the blueish ball of his home planet through the tiny window. He hadn't been home for years. A swarm of memories fluttered through his mind, some belonging to the carefree childhood he'd had in a small suburb of the capital, some to the confusing years of adolescence and some to the four years he'd given to the Corellian Forces.
He sighed quietly and made a conscious effort to suppress the images. This was not the time to dwell on the past. He could do that after passing Corellian Customs, not now.

Thinking of the passport controls brought up a new bout of insecurity, a feeling he'd become all too familiar with over the past few days. Being here, flying into Corellia … it all felt alien to him. Not that returning to his home was an unpleasant sensation, it wasn't. It was more the How and the Why of this trip that left him dithering inwardly.
Throughout his life he'd been more considerate than spontaneous. His father had had a long career as Officer of the Corellian Defense Forces. Being a considerate and quiet man himself he'd instilled the same sense for planning and careful consideration in his only son. Myn could remember his father gently lecturing him.

Being spontaneous is a good thing, son. Never give up on spontaneity but don't let it rule your life. By planning ahead you can avoid having to improvise.

He squashed the smile forming on his lips and put on his habitual Sabacc face. He wondered briefly what his father would think of this very trip. It was anything but planned, he hadn't thought it through at all. In a military sense he was practically blundering into enemy territory without having any idea what to expect, what he would do and how he would get out again. He hadn't spent days and nights considering his options – he had acted. Being this spontaneous was alien to him, but on some basic level it felt right, too.

Three days ago the woman who had been Gara the enemy, Lara the friend and who was now Kirney Slane had managed to shake up his already confusing life. She'd shaken him up thoroughly, indeed. He hadn't seen her for weeks, but somehow she'd managed to infiltrate every dream and nightmare he'd had ever since – either teasing him with what could have been or shocking him to death with what had happened. The steady up and down of dreams mirrored the confusion within in his heart. Myn felt himself torn between his romantic interest in Lara and the nagging voice reminding him of what Gara had done.
He'd already come to terms with never seeing her again. She'd told him as much in the message she'd managed to send him. Even though a part of him had revolted against the idea he'd heard the determination in her voice to bring down Zsinj even at the cost of her own life. Her death at Selaggis had seemingly drawn a final line under that chapter of his life. He'd sworn not to forget about her until the day he died, but he hadn't wanted to cling to her memory wondering what might have been. He'd rid himself of one false deity, he would not slip back into old habits by taking on a new one. He owed it to his fallen comrades, to the Wraiths, to Antilles … And last but not least he owed it to himself. But then Clink had shown him a strange holo coming from Corellia.

"Hello Myn. It's been a while since we've seen another."

After watching her message again and again that night the only things he remembered were applying for a leave of absence, booking a flight to Corellia, throwing a random choice of clothes into his old flightbag and storming off to the next spaceport. The greatest obstacle of visiting his home planet had not come to his mind until the space liner had been well underway to Corellia: he was a member of the New Republic Military. Even though Corellia maintained nominal independence from both the Republic and the Empire the imperial factions had gained a lot of influence on his home world after the death of Palpatine. While he was not in the same league as Han Solo or Wedge Antilles there was a chance of being arrested and thrown into prison. Or worse.
For some unfathomable reason he wasn't overly worried about that possibility, though. Corellia was a trade junction and a haven for smugglers and other shady figures. Tens of thousands of people were coming in to Coronet City every day so the chances of him being picked out by the Immigration Agency were very slim. As long as he didn't advertise his current affiliation he should be fine.

A light above the passage into the First Class department flashed and the speakers cackled to life.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! This is your Captain speaking. We're expecting some atmospheric disorders so we'd like to ask you to fasten your seat-belts. Thank you!"

Myn sighed and clicked the belt into place, pulling it tighter so he wouldn't get tossed around by the turbulence. Just what he needed – as if his stomach wasn't making somersaults already.

Pull yourself together , he told himself sternly and took a calming breath. It's not like you're being inserted undercover into an Imperial world.

He wasn't completely without resources, Corellia was his homeworld after all. He still had his parents, his uncle's family and some of his childhood friends to turn to if he snafued something. His father might have been pensioned years ago but Myn figured the old warrior still had some connections to certain people. Yet the Ranats kept gnawing at his innards.

"Nervous?" The voice was manly rough but full of warmth. And dripping with amusement.

Myn gave his neighbor a measured glance from the corner of his eyes and nodded. "A little," he admitted.

"Don't worry," the stranger answered and showed a toothy grin. "It sounds worse than it is."

A corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "I wasn't exactly nervous about the turbulence."

The older man cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. " Bey Valle Ihn fitel fil de Corelli ? "

It took Myn a few seconds to sort through his memory for the correct answer. The old Corellian dialect had come pretty much out of fashion nearly half a century ago and while he'd learned it in school he'd never used it outside the lessons. " Jes, Minmin Bey Ihn fitel fil de Ten planeto . "

His neighbor laughed lightly, a deep rumble which Myn found strangely comforting. "I'm impressed, son. It's hard to find a youngster who can still speak the High Tongue." He held out his hand. "Kard Venns."

Myn grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "Myn Donos."

"So how long have you been away from home?"

Donos didn't bother to hide the surprise on his face. "How did you …?"

Venns grinned. "Just guessing." He gave him a thorough up and down glance. "I like to think I can distinguish a soldier from a civvie. Been one long enough, you know. And since you're not in a military transport I don't think you're still with CPD." He cocked his head again. "Flyboy, I'd say."

Myn felt uncomfortable being this … transparent. He wasn't used to having someone read his body language and hit the Death Star exhaust port with the first proton torpedo. "True," he admitted quietly.

The older man laughed again. "Don't worry. It isn't that obvious. Your little secret is safe with me."

Donos grimaced. "Thanks. I guess I should hope the Customs Officers don't have your practiced eye, shouldn't I?"

"Don't worry about it." Venns waved his concerns off. "Leave them to me. I know how to deal with them."

Myn raised his eyebrow and clamped down the urge to snap off a retort. There was a certain edge in the older man's voice, a familiar edge. He'd heard it before, his father had used it, his instructors, Wedge and even General Solo. He knew he had used it, too. It was probably a feature of the Corellian gene pool, something connected to the violent instincts they'd inherited from their distant ancestors. Military training seemed to bring it out, refine it, sharpen it.
He regarded Kard Venns for a few seconds, studying the sharp lines of his massive skull, the angular features of his face, the short-cut brown hair streaked with gray strands and the deep blue of his eyes. Something about this man - A complete stranger, Myn reminded himself. – seemed to suggest complete trustworthiness. His instincts told him that Kard Venns was an akin soul, a warrior like him. But Myn discarded that notion immediately, smashed down walls around his mind to keep these traitorous thoughts at bay. He could not rely on his instincts anymore. He'd trusted Lara and …
He squashed that thought, forcing it into the darkest corner of his mind. It was unfair to think of her that way. Hadn't she proven worthy of his trust? Hadn't she remained loyal while working undercover against Zsinj?

Venns' voice shook him out of his thoughts. "Corellia isn't the same place you've grown up on, son. You've been away for years, I guess. Some things have changed. You'll understand once we touch down."

What is he trying to tell me , Donos wondered. He thought back to his youth, to his father's lectures about the structure of Corellia's security forces. All civilian aspects of public security were combined under CorSec's banner including the everyday police work, immigration and customs checks. Back in his day CorSec had had a spotless reputation. How had his father put it so eloquently?

CorSec is a powerful shield against the evils of this galaxy. Battered, scarred but still unbroken.

"Remember – CorSec is no more." Venns's voice had dropped to a low growl and one of his eyebrows began to rise.

Myn could have kicked himself. He'd completely forgotten about that – even though it had been a hot topic among the Corellians attending the New Republic Naval Academy. He had not paid much attention, though, as he'd been occupied studying for the intermediate exams. "I'd forgotten. Sorry."

"You've not given this a lot of thought I see." Venns sighed and put a hand on Myn's forearm. "Let me deal with the Customs folks. It will spare you a lot of trouble."

For a moment instinct warred with insecurity, trust with distrust. Instinct and trust came out on top, much to his own surprise. He sighed and nodded. "Ok, old man. I'll trust you on this one."

Venns faked righteous indignation pretty well. "Who are you calling old, fledgling? I'm not even sixty!" Then a broad grin split his tanned face, a grin which Myn returned.

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