“Look, I told her I had everything under control. And I did! Eventually …”
Bril Teg Arga sat in the unusually comfortable seats of the Headmistress’ office, leaning forward and gesturing with his hands while he stated his case. “We collected good data on the anomaly, and we got the ship back in one piece! That’s a win in my book.”
The young man, one of the youngest to be elected to such a lofty position within the Shadow Academy, couldn’t believe that he was being reprimanded for his actions. Sure, his methods had been … unorthodox, but they got the job done! And if they hadn’t expected things to get hairy during his work, then they wouldn’t have given him a seal of diplomatic immunity.
“Everyone’s so uptight,” he remarked with a roll of the eyes, “Especially her.”
<@371402534973341696> <@216702440140046336>
“While the end result, yes, we are okay, but it could had been much worse because of your impulsive decision.” Her voice was calm as she looked at Bril. She stood on Bril’s side by a few feet.
“We were lucky to had met Mr. Karr. He did what he had to do by placing us in prison. Anyone else, we may had not been able to come home. Ms. Erinos could only do so much. It would be on them to charge us with infiltration and trespassing. Diplomatic immunity or not, it would be wise to confer with the system you are visiting to inform them of your wish to visit and why, to avoid this.” Then she let out a heavy sigh.
“And you need to remember that not everyone that goes with you, will have Diplomatic Immunity. I did not but luckily, Mr. Karr did not find a reason to look into that. You could had lost your crew and be the only one remaining.”
<@371402534973341696>
“I dislike that the Envoys call it ‘immunity,’” the Headmistress said, not looking up from the after-action report on her datapad. “It has misleading implications. What that badge signifies is that if you become a problem, we will deal with you on the condition that the local authorities don’t. It carries the Grand Master’s signature and the Exarch’s because you are their problem.”
“The last time I saw Marick deal with a problematic subordinate, he gave her to me for execution, and that was back when we’d barely stopped shooting at one another. Back when we called our esteemed Grand Master ‘The Butcher of Lyspair.’”
Alethia set the datapad down with casual indifference, fixing her gaze on the man across the desk. Her smile, like her tone, was pleasant and collegial. Her eyes were not.
“So, tell me, Bril, would you rather have this discussion with one of them?”
Her response earned an eye roll from the young Zabrak, who folded his arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t have let that happen to us. To any of you,” he remarked, frowning at that last part. Did she really think he was that irresponsible?
Shifting his attention to the Headmistress, Bril listened intently to her explanation, but that didn’t stop him from making a face at it.
“Sounds like something that should be cleared up…” he muttered beneath his breath.
Whereas Bril’s demeanor had hitherto been tense if not somewhat flippant in nature, it took a decidedly darker air when he heard Alethia’s last comment. He clicked his teeth and leaned back into his chair, running his fingers along the expensive-looking upholstery. Although he could tell she didn’t really mean what she said–that it was more intended to frighten him than anything, it irked him, nonetheless.
“I made a valuable contribution to the Academy. As I’ve done since I got here. My methods may have been unorthodox, but what I did might as well have been a minor inconvenience compared to the things I’ve seen members of this ‘Brotherhood’ do to each other.”
He smiled with his eyes. “And I think you know that, Ms. Archenksova.”
<@371402534973341696>
“Did it ever occur to you to wonder why the Palatinaeans are so touchy about ships showing up at Caperion unannounced?”
“I figured it was because they’re, you know, Imperials. Always grumpy and antisocial, you know?”
The Academy complex matched the plain, neo-Imperial style of architecture shared by almost every building on Arx. The Headmistress’ office was no exception, which made the relatively few personal touches all the more conspicuous. Bril hadn’t had time to snoop around properly, but a set of archaic metal armor in the corner behind Alethia’s desk had been nagging at his mind throughout the scolding. Handmade, by the look of it. Probably bronzium. Definitely not the work of any Sith culture or the Sephi kingdom the Headmistress called home as an Odanite. And, by the look of it, at least a quarter meter too small to fit the Human woman glaring at him from across the desk.
“The last time a fleet from Arx showed up in Palatinaean space unannounced, 115 million people died. They should have seen it coming. Pravus had already killed 300 million each on New Tython and Karufr. But they got too comfortable, forgot who they were dealing with.”
And then it hit him. Bril couldn’t place the armor design because it wasn’t a culture he’d gotten to study. The only time he’d seen Harakoan work was in the odd illustration in the Academy archives. He’d paid less attention to the antique armillary sphere on the shelf behind the Headmistress, but it was unmistakably Alderaanian now that he gave it a second glance.
“They learned their lesson the hard way,” the Headmistress continued. “You need to learn that the only thing the Sith care about as much a power is ego and saving face. If you get yourself arrested, we will pay your bail. If you get yourself killed with you ‘unorthodox methods,’ we will pay for your funeral. But if the Imperial Scholae Navy shoots down a Council-owned vessel full of Arconans?”
“Reiden Carr is declawed manka kitten by Brotherhood standards. We’re all lucky you didn’t start another war because you couldn’t be bothered to comm ahead.”
“Unorthodoxy is tolerable. Sloppiness is not.”
Yet another reminder of the brutality of which the Brotherhood was capable. As much as he wanted to spend a bit more time reflecting on the breathtaking artifacts present in the Headmistress’ office, he couldn’t think of anything other than the staggering number of lives snuffed out on both Odan-Urr’s former homeworld and in the Taldryan capital. His lips tightened.
Then, his mind drifted to the vision he saw when he and Reiden connected with the Force vergence. The potential future that the Force allowed him to see. He had always wanted him and Minnow to be happy, and his own masters – upon learning the details of this particular vision – had cautioned him to remember that the future was always in flux, but now he knew that it really was possible for them to have real joy. The kind of joy and contentment that he could scarcely imagine when for months they had been visited by tribulation after tribulation, with near-constant impending doom and brushes with death that no one, especially someone so young, should have to shoulder.
He inhaled.
But now he saw that his recklessness had put that future in jeopardy. Try as he might to ensure that he was strong enough, and smart enough, to protect his loved ones, one bad decision could have led to his life ending with the same callous efficiency that had stolen the futures of galactic inhabitants a trillion times over. And not just his own, but those who accompanied him. Evelyn’s.
His grip tightened on the chair’s arm as he looked to the pale-haired woman with a sorrowful look in his eyes. “I’m … truly sorry, for putting you in danger. You trusted me and I took advantage of that. I hope you can forgive me.”
And he turned back to Alethia, removed the broach that carried his name and position within the Collegium, and placed it on her desk. “And I apologize for acting in a way not befitting my station as a researcher, here. If you choose to reprimand me for my actions, then I’ll understand.”
<@216702440140046336>
Evelyn remained silent. She listened to the Headmistress as her body weight shifted uncomfortably for a split second. How many decisions had she made over the battlefield that had cost her comrades? She always does her best to make sure everyone makes it out alive but the numbers of the graves beg to differ.
The number of the mourning families. They never blamed her and even invite her over to dinners but she never went. She couldn’t. Not with their ghosts always haunting her to remind her of her mistakes. And she doesn’t want Bril to go through that. Not when he was so young and capable.
Her dark green hues met with Bril’s icy blues. She was stunned by his heartfelt apology and was quiet for awhile.
“We did not get hurt and we are home. I forgive you.” Evelyn reassured him.
His expression seemed to brighten at Evelyn’s comment.
“Thank you,” he lowered his head in a bow.
“Well, I hope that’s settled. Now, lest I confirm Bril’s prejudices, would either of you like something to drink?”
His face lit up at that comment. “Master Ruka doesn’t like when I drink … I’m in!”
Evelyn rose her eyebrow. She had to pilot afterwards. They were to go back home on Selen.
“I would take you up on it, ma'am, but I do not drink on duty. Thank you.”