Chapter Text
"All people have regrets. Warriors are no exception. One would hope it was possible to distinguish between events caused by one’s carelessness or lack of ability and those caused by circumstances or forces beyond one’s control. But in practice, there is no difference. All forms of regret sear equally deeply into the mind and soul. All forms leave scars of equal bitterness."
The asteroid was drifting leisurely in front of the mottled black sky of the Crustai system, it’s slow rotation almost imperceptible. The calm and stillness were treacherous however, especially compared to the bustling activity of the hidden Chiss base inside the asteroid. Its commander’s flagship, the Springhawk, had once again returned from battle – once again victorious.
Also once again, it required thorough repairs, and an even more thorough restocking of all necessary material, reaching from tibanna gas and plasma for the weapon charges to food and oxygen for life support. It was being resupplied with a staggering amount of seemingly random tech parts and smaller components taken from stations and repair equipment as well. Knowing Mitth’raw’nuruodo however, the parts missing were anything but random.
Suppressing a frustrated growl, Admiral Ar’alani of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet made her way through the hurried soldiers, techs and cleaning personnel who currently swarmed the Springhawk’s corridors like hungry mynocks. Although she shouldn’t be complaining, really, she thought - everyone obediently and quickly made way to let her through, with the occasional salute being thrown in. She parted the sea of black uniforms easily, her own dazzling white one standing out in stark contrast. Quicker than she had expected considering the hustle, she reached the bridge.
“Commander!” she called imperiously to the turned back of her target, one of the youngest and brightest officers the Ascendancy had. He turned, then stiffened to attention.
“In the name of all who serve the Chiss, I greet-“ he began, but Ar’alani cut him off. She makes a sharp motion with her left hand, her tone decisive, but hushed in spite its urgency.
“None of that, now,” she said. “I need to speak with you immediately. In private, your office preferably.” For a long moment, he just stared at her unblinkingly, his eyes darting rapidly over her face, arms and hands. Surely, he wouldn’t refuse her order, not on his own bridge, with witnesses being present? That would be a new one, even for him.
Her stance is stiff and her facial muscles rigid. Perhaps anger, perhaps frustration. There are unspoken words of challenge and authority, but she is also slightly inclined forwards, displaying receptiveness despite the formality and stiffness. A personal request, then? No… a warning, possibly a reprimand.
“Follow me, if you please, admiral,” he said, leading the way away from the center of the bridge and towards his office, turning halfway to give a few, quick orders to the officers he had been consulting with until Ar’alani’s arrival. Stepping aside, he let her enter before him as was appropriate for their respective ranks.
The lights of the room were already on but dimmed to only 35% of maximum. Several large holograms of statues, flats and pictures tinged the room in an eerie blue light, illuminating even more sculptures strewn almost haphazardly over the desk and counterspace available. Ar’alani froze in apprehension of the sight before her - she knew some of those artworks - but then Mitth’raw’nuruodo quickly strode past her and keyed in a few commands at the console on his desk.
The office brightened as at the same time the holos were turned off and when he turned to face her, she shook herself out of her momentary stupor. Why was she even still surprised?
“What is this?” she demanded. There is wariness in her tone and body stance, but also certainty and resolve. A suspicion has been confirmed. She sweeps her hand in a wide arc indicating the whole room before bringing it to rest behind her back again.
“Research,” he said simply.
“Research. For what? Have you not just come back from having destroyed the enemy?”
“There are always more enemies to be identified, faced, and vanquished. You know that as well as I do, admiral.”
“Mind your tone, Commander,” she said irritatedly. “Did you really think I would not recognize the artwork? Or that I would not notice the pieces of backup equipment and repair stations missing? I ask you this only once again: What is the meaning of this?” He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and her patience was running very thin now. She really was growing extraordinarily tired from dealing with these antics of his. “Commander…”
“You say you recognize it. You tell me what it is you see then, admiral.” Her brow furrows and the corners of her lips turn downward even more. She makes a small, involuntary step forward. A silent threat, perhaps.
“I will not play your games, Mitth’raw’nuruodo! What if the Aristocra hear of this? It only has been a month since your last hearing and even the success from your victory today will not spare you if you do not adhere to your orders. I am one of the few from among the admiralty who are sympathetic towards you. I might be the only one who is in favor of you. Being dishonest or elusive with me will gain you nothing.”
He stared at her, unmoving, then lowered his gaze. “My apologies, admiral. As you have apparently already gathered, these are the few pieces of art that the Ascendancy possesses about the Vagaari and their conquest.”
He ran his fingers almost reverently over a pile of colorfully painted wood and feathers on his right side. “This, I believe, might be the only sculpt I have come across that they themselves have created, but it is incomplete and only a part of a greater build, most likely a larger version of the masks they wear. I was hoping to find clues that may be used to track their relative movement across the galaxy and the systems they prey on and hence predict where they will strike next. Even when one is not aware of it yet, there is a pattern to everything. I intend to exploit that pattern.”
A short pause, then he added softly: “I intend to finish what was started here three months ago.”
“Indeed,” Ar’alani said, trying hard and only partially succeeding in hiding her displeasure. “You are no exception to such patterns, apparently. You have been given explicit orders by the Aristocra and the Admiralty to heed the Vagaari no further notice. And yet again, you defy them.” She scoffed softly.
“Hope? I would have expected something more substantial from you, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Hope is little more than false or highly unlikely expectations. You cannot and will not use military resources on hope.”
He tensed, turning away and regarding a rather ugly constellation of what seemed to be crudely carved rocks fused together. “I assure you, admiral, I have only spent time on the issue when off-duty. Furthermore, no one else would have interest in these pieces.”
“Time that you instead could use to rest or to study other, more important matters. You are chasing a ghost. The Vagaari have been scattered, they are of no more concern to you – if they ever truly were. And when I mentioned military resources, I spoke of you, commander. You are a servant of the Chiss Ascendancy and you will abide to its dictates.” She relaxes slightly, her tone softening a notch.
“I understand that this is of personal importance to you. But this doesn’t justify –“
“My efforts are not driven by personal reasons, admiral,” he interjected. “The Vagaari were and still are a threat to our people. They will most assuredly recover and regroup, and then they will return in possibly even greater force.”
“Because you have engaged them in combat and thereby made us a target!” Ar’alani snapped, her patience faltering. He frowned and opened his mouth to speak. “And do not interrupt me again.”
She waited a moment to drive the point home, then continued: “The Vagaari are of no more concern to the CEDF and the Ascendancy as a whole and therefore also not to you. I will confiscate these items and you will also delete the digital copies and other holograms you have on the topic of them. That is an order, commander. Do not make me repeat myself another time.”
The last words are spoken slower and with clearer enunciation as well as in a lower pitch. The sympathy is gone from her expression, replaced by frustration and resolution. Her eyes are narrowed significantly, the gaze is bright and hard, her mouth set in a firm unrelenting line.
Mitth’raw’nuruodo seemed to wilt a little. “Yes, admiral.”
“Should I have reason to believe you are dwelling on these marauders again, I will see myself forced to report it directly to military and Aristocra jurisdiction. I can only imagine the punishment for breaking their directive so blatantly would be severe.”
His head snapped up and he frowned at her slightly. “You are not reporting it this time, admiral?” he asked quietly.
“No.” Offering no further explanation – as, frankly, there wasn’t any, besides from the fact it would be an outright shame if he were to suffer demotion or, as Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano had threatened personally, exile – she pressed: “And what about the missing equipment? What is your plan with it?”
An almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips. “I took only what was redundant or present in abundance,” he said. At her dark expression, he added quickly: “I have constructed some customized transmitters and sensors, designed to pick up possible signals from the missing dreadnoughts.”
It took all her experience and countenance to neither openly gape nor to bury her head in her hands in exasperation. This man was going to be the end of her... As it was, all that came of it was a little snort of disbelief. “Outbound Flight? Are you serious?”
“Why would I be joking?” he replied.
“Because it is ridiculous! You disabled and obliterated Outbound Flight yourself, there is hardly anyone left on the ships to operate it and since we have not heard from the syndic yet – ah. I see. Now please do not insult my intelligence by claiming trying to find your brother isn’t personal.”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo had stiffened visibly at her mentioning the destruction of the republic vessel and even more when she referred to his brother. “The craft and its technology would be of great benefit to the Defense Fleet,” he said finally. But his tone was subdued and defeated, the earlier pride and conviction gone from his shoulders and face.
Ar’alani could see many lines of tension in his expression that had not been there three months ago. Now that she looked at him more closely, he seemed harrowed somewhat, and even through the sturdy uniform material she could glean he had put on even more muscle mass during his last missions.
Considering how much time he spent on the bridge or mulling over strategies and some elusive artworks in his office, she pondered, he had most likely spent every other waking minute in the training rooms. Waking minutes of which he had probably had quite many. There were dark circles under his eyes, the red waterline had become almost the dark color of blood and even the fierce shine of his eyes was reduced to a dull glow.
However, it was hardly her business, so she resolutely put her observations aside. It would only become her problem if he were no longer fit for duty. The commander inclined his head slightly to the side, analyzing her inspection of him in turn.
She draws herself up to her full height. There is pride, but also a sense of resignation and loss.
“Do not forget that Mitth’ras’safis gave his life to ensure no Ruling Family would gain control of the vessel and its assets. You yourself spoke of what ruin that might bring to our people. If it was found on any official capacity – “ Then it struck her. “So that is why you have not simply requested additional sensor equipment? You hope to do this on your own? Find the ship and your brother, recover him and the information, and then – what? Not enclose your findings? Withhold your observations? Surely you must realize how slim the chances are of even finding them, and how much smaller of him being still alive?”
“Yes,” he muttered. “Yet there is as much solid proof of him being dead as for him being alive, namely none.”
“His absence and silence are the proof. The syndic honored his duty to his people in his actions, and you would be wise to do the same. Put the ship and him to rest at last.”
She gestured towards him with her hand. “Your scrutiny and attention are needed on one of our many fronts. If I could help it, even more than one of them.” She attempted a small reassuring smile, but the compliment felt hollow and flat. Sighing inwardly, she took a step back.
“Do not dwell on hope, commander. It will only blind you of reality. I will send men to gather… these items. See to it that their work can and will be done thoroughly. Do not even consider withholding some pieces. Oh, and if I find any more technical components missing that should not be missing as per the battle reports, I will restrict restocking. I believe you would not want the standards of your ship to suffer.”
She turns to leave, hesitates and turns around. For a moment, her stoic expression falters and her eyes look beyond into the distance. Her features are clouded for a moment, perhaps with regret, perhaps with sympathy. Her hand twitches forwards and up, as if to reach for my shoulder, then hesitates and falls unusually graceless back to her side.
“He truly was a very talented man. His voice and services will be missed.” Also because that meant one vigorous supporter less for Mitth’raw’nuruodo and his unconventional means and methods, thus more of that would fall to her, the cynical part of her brain added.
For a moment, his eyes flashed and he scowled at her, leaving her wondering if he had predicted her train of thought and was reacting to unspoken words as he sometimes would do. But she blinked and his expression had smoothed out again, looking severe and almost serene as he said: “Yes. He will.”
"And always, beneath the scar, lurks the thought and fear that there was something else that could have been done. Some action or inaction that would have changed things for the better. Such questions can sometimes be learned from. All to often, they merely add to the scar tissue.
A warrior must learn to set those regrets aside as best as he can. Knowing full well that they will never be far away."