6Author's Notes: Inspired by swtor-prompts for 22 February 2019 – "It's not the destination, it's the journey." The story takes place at the end of Chapter 6 of Knights of the Eternal Throne.
Arcann jumped down from the shuttle, the bottoms of his boots hitting the duracrete floor of the Alliance hangar on Odessen.
Almost immediately, a squad of four Alliance soldiers – two wearing the armor of the Galactic Republic, two wearing the armor of the Sith Empire – stepped forward, weapons drawn on him, ready to fire.
Arcann's body tensed involuntarily, but he made no move to draw his lightsaber or to otherwise defend himself. If the Alliance Commander chose to turn against him after his submission on Zakuul and everything he had done, then so be it. It would be no more than he deserved.
Instead, the Outlander raised a hand to his men, the gesture firm and unwavering.
The four soldiers stood down at once. Whatever their respective backgrounds and previous allegiances, whatever their training, they obeyed their commander without question. Their loyalty was absolute.
All around the hangar, Alliance personnel looked up from whatever they had been doing. Private conversations ended abruptly. Maintenance work was delayed. Every set of eyes turned to the scene being played out in the middle of the hangar. To Arcann and the Commander. Most of the faces were startled. One or two looked angry. But no one made a sound.
Indeed, one could have heard a pin drop in the silence.
Arcann chose to take the initiative, cautiously stepping towards the Commander.
"Revenge consumed me for too long." Arcann's gravelly words broke the silence. His voice, no longer muffled through his mask, was almost alien to his own ears. "But you saved my mother. And for that I'm in your debt."
The Alliance Commander, the man whom Arcann himself had once dubbed 'Outlander' as an insult and who had been his mortal enemy for nearly a year, smiled reassuringly. The mere expression displayed a combination of strength, self-assuredness and compassion. Not for the first time, Arcann was reminded of his brother, Thexan, dead at Arcann's own hand over five years ago.
"Senya believed in your ability to change. And she was right."
The mention of his mother moved Arcann. He felt an unexpected sense of longing to see the woman who had given birth to him, and who had risked everything to see him redeemed.
"She was right about you as well. I finally see it."
Arcann meant it, as well. His former, darker self could never grasp his mother's actions in abandoning the Eternal Throne to fight at the side of some upstart Outlander, much less one who was the vessel for his father's spirit. He had foolishly chalked it up to another betrayal. It was only now that he knew better.
"But your work is not complete. My sister's reign of destruction is far from over."
"We'll stop her. Together." The Commander's words were full of a steely resolve and confidence reflected in his eyes. Arcann was surprised at how much he believed the words. There was a quiet charisma to the Outlander that could inspire his followers to great feats. It should have been no surprise that his Alliance had accomplished so much.
"Agreed." Arcann replied firmly.
"Good." The Commander smiled again, then extended a hand towards Arcann to shake.
"Welcome to the Alliance."
Intellectually, Arcann was aware that the offer of a handshake was a common enough gesture throughout most of the galaxy, from Zakuul to the Core worlds and to the Rim. But to him, it was a foreign act. No one had ever extended their hand to him in friendship.
No one had ever truly been his friend. Not since Thexan.
Arcann reached out and accepted the handshake. The grip was firm, but there was no aggression behind it. No contest of wills or strength. The Outlander had opposed him with relentless determination – and even ruthlessness – during their encounter on Asylum. But now he was accepting Arcann gracefully – even warmly – into his Alliance.
"I… thank you." He finally managed.
"Good." The Commander declared, still smiling.
He withdrew his hand, then turned back to his advisors. Arcann had reviewed intelligence reports on Beniko and Shan, though he now suspected what he had read did not do either of them justice. Both individuals had been keeping their peace since he stepped off the shuttle, allowing the Commander to take the lead. Theron Shan, the former Republic spy, who'd been at the Palace with the Commander on Zakuul when Arcann had joined them, had a rather contemplative expression on his face, as if he were running down the possibilities and opportunities now that Arcann had joined them. Lana Beniko, a Sith Lord and former Imperial spymaster, appeared far more skeptical of Arcann's motives, her yellow eyes narrowed just a bit.
Arcann could not blame her.
It was Beniko whom the Commander addressed. "Lana, we can hold off on the debriefing for a bit, I think."
Beniko nodded sharply. She may have privately questioned the wisdom of the order and what's more of allowing Arcann to remain free, but she would never raise it publicly. Yet another display of loyalty towards the Outlander.
"Of course, Commander."
The Outlander returned the nod, then turned back to Arcann with a smile, giving him a comradely pat on his shoulder.
"Come on. I'll take you to her."
The two men walked through the passageways of the Alliance base. As had taken place in the hangar, where they passed people, jaws dropped, and eyes widened. No one protested or challenged them, but many did look angry.
How many of them blamed Arcann for the loss of a loved one? Or perhaps even their entire family? Their homes? Their communities? Their home worlds? Arcann thought. The practical realities of serving in an organization that had originally been established to bring about his overthrow started to dawn on him. It was a sobering thought.
That notion must have been reflected in Arcann's eyes, as the Commander clearly picked up on it.
"I can't do much about that staring. But you have my word you will not be harmed or interfered with." The Outlander promised. "You will have to prove yourself to them, but I promise you'll have the opportunity to do that."
He spoke with certainty. With complete confidence in himself and his people. It was oddly comforting.
"Then I'm again in your debt."
The Commander simply nodded and pressed on.
Arcann wondered for a moment that the Commander had led him himself, alone, and with no armed escort. He realized that the Outlander was sending a message to the rest of the Alliance – that he was personally vouching for Arcann; that this was not the man he had fought on Asylum and later at Arcann's flagship above Odessen. More important, the Commander was telling them that he personally trusted Arcann, and that they should, too.
Eventually, they entered a medical bay. The room was long and relatively narrow, the beds all running across in a single row. There were about twenty beds, each with their own monitoring stations. Despite the Alliance's lack of access to most Zakuulan technology, Arcann was impressed with the professionalism and cleanliness of the room. What the nascent rebellion lacked in resources they made up for in resourcefulness and dedication. Medical droids – most of them originating from within the Sith Empire – moved this way and that, checking patients, taking samples and cleaning up when needed.
Only four of the beds in the chamber were occupied. Two of them – a Sullustan and a male human – seemed to be resting quietly. A third, a male Twi'lek, was awake, and was eating a meal. When he saw the Commander of the Alliance walk in with Arcann, his once sworn enemy, the man blinked hard. Then he picked up his glass and stared at his beverage, perhaps concerned that seeing Arcann was the result of a drug-induced hallucination. Nevertheless, the man didn't disturb them.
Laying on the bed on the far corner of the room lay Arcann's mother.
Senya Tirall was lying peacefully, with the life-signs monitor above her bed giving the only evidence that she was still alive. Though Arcann had spent some months on the run with his mother earlier in the year, in his severely injured state, he was in and out of consciousness, barely waking at all most days. He was hardly ever lucid enough to properly observe her in detail.
Even now, she is still beautiful. Arcann sighed inwardly. Her features were still sharp and lovely. Near-constant fighting and training had kept the Knight of Zakuul in top form. As he noted the lines etched in his mother's face and the gray hairs that mixed with her raven-black tresses, he couldn't help but wonder how many of those signs were the natural result of age, and how many had been caused by the strain of Arcann's actions. Despite all that, the expression on her face was serene. It was possible that this coma-like state in which she found herself was the most restful Senya had been in years.
Arcann took his mother's hand in his and fell to his knees beside her bed. The wellspring of emotions surging inside him proved almost overwhelming. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness for all that had happened, to thank her profusely for saving his life on the flagship, and to swear he would never leave her side again. It was all he could do to press his lips to Senya's hand as he smothered a sob.
But she remained in her deep slumber, her mind a thousand parsecs away.
Arcann felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Here." The Commander said, pulling up a chair so Arcann could sit comfortably. The former Zakuulan Emperor reluctantly rose, never releasing Senya's hand. He accepted the offered seat, taking his place next to her bed.
"Vaylin can wait. I'll arrange for some privacy." The Outlander spoke quietly, once Arcann was seated.
He then turned to leave, but Arcann stopped him.
"Commander, wait." He released Senya's hand, gently laying it back on the bed, and stood up, turning to face to Outlander. The Commander simply paused, with a questioning eyebrow raised.
"Why did you help me?" Arcann finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him all this time. He had originally assumed that he was merely a resource to the Commander, a weapon to be used against Vaylin before discarding. But the Commander's displays of compassion put the lie to that theory. "On Voss and… now. Letting me join your Alliance. Why are you being so kind? Why?"
The Outlander gave no immediate answer, saying nothing for a while. Then his brow furrowed into a deep frown, and his eyes took on a dark look. Arcann was now reminded of that last battle with the Commander, back on the flagship, when the two of them fought with the belief that only one of them would walk away alive. For a moment, he was worried he had gone too far, and that the Outlander would now turn on him, slaying him as he stood above his mother's bed.
Then Arcann realized that the Outlander's eyes weren't focused on the former emperor; they seemed to be looking past him, just over his shoulder, zeroing in on the apparently empty space. A thought crossed his mind.
Father?
Before Arcann could ask, the Commander's gaze dropped to Senya. His eyes softened, and he finally spoke.
"My friend asked me to help her save her son." He said quietly, by way of an answer.
Arcann was struck dumb at that, unable to reconcile his words with everything that had passed between them.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple." The Outlander replied somberly. "It may not always be easy, but it is a simple choice."
Arcann swallowed awkwardly, once again reminded of Thexan. His brother had lived and fought by simple principles, until Arcann's misdirected rage had destroyed him.
"I will strive to prove myself worthy of the trust you… and my mother… have placed in me." Arcann promised.
The Commander smiled, patting Arcann on the shoulder.
"I know you will. Just remember that this path you've undertaken is a journey, not a destination."
With that, he turned and headed towards the exit. "We'll meet in the war room in an hour." He spoke over his shoulder on the way out. "I try not to keep Lana and Theron waiting."
Arcann watched the Commander depart. The Twi'lek patient on the other end of the room had dozed off, leaving the former Emperor alone with his mother.
He sat down again, taking his mother's hand gingerly.
"I will undertake this journey, mother." Arcann vowed quietly.
"And I will finally make you proud."
