Chapter 525: One Last Goodbye
Marix stood there, in the large, open chamber that was technically a sort of throne room within the Palace, but a place she’d only entered once or twice since becoming Empress. In fact, while she may have walked through it here and there to get someplace quick. The last time she was really in the room, for anything official like it was meant to be used for, was back when her parents were still alive. It was the day that she and, at the time, Akan had been called there by her mother with something important. That something important had been Jyren’s father, standing to the side of the throne, almost exactly where Marix stood now.
She couldn’t bring herself to sit in that chair.
Standing just a few meters away were five Jendari, two of them captains of the ships that had arrived during the battle, with three others who looked to be other officer types from the similar uniforms they wore. Of the five, one stood up front, speaking for them all as the Jendari usually did in groups. This Jendari was female, with a slight build like most of her kind, and very interesting looking almost-feathers that trailed down from the top of her head down her spine before being covered by the uniform she wore. A pair of bright green eyes watched Marix, with a surprisingly sad look in them for a usually neutral species.
But Marix knew why all of them Jendari held the same look.
When she had called them down to meet with them, they’d suggested this very room. Now, they’d stood in relative silence after greetings and a short report of the situation in orbit. It was obvious the Jendari were waiting for something. The very fact that they might have known what was on the tip of her tongue bothered Marix a great deal, because it was something she didn’t want to ask them. At the same time, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to be absolutely necessary.
“The Empire is safe, my lady,” suddenly, the wispy voice of the female Jendari, Liratt, cut through the silence like a cool knife, “The ship you disabled is being taken back to Mrrakesh space, just as you ordered. Others were not so lucky to survive, but we are all safe again.”
It was the way Liratt spoke those last words. They were almost formed like a question. At that point, Marix was sure they knew what she was close to asking. They were trying to draw it out of her. They wanted her to ask it...but could she live with herself if she did?
That was a stupid question.
Of course she could. But it wasn’t herself that Marix was concerned about. No, no it was about more than just her. That was the problem with being the Empress, and she was getting a sinking feeling that was why the Jendari suggested this room. It was impossible to forget she was the Empress in here, with the huge rows of columns leading to the single throne and barely anything else beyond large windows on the left wall and some very fine rugs spread out across the floor. This wasn’t a decision about Marix. She would be fine.
But would the Empire?
If she asked the Jendari to do what she was beginning to feel had to be done, it could easily be seen as turning her back on her own people. For thousands of years, the Alraxian Empire had existed without war. They were a defensive race, protecting themselves if necessary, but never expanding outwards in attack. The important thing to was to keep the people of the Empire safe, be they Alraxian, Jendari, Human, or any other of the dozen or so races that lived within the large pocket of space at the edge of the galaxy.
Her silvery-violet eyes flashing a slightly stronger silver colour for a moment, Marix looked to Liratt, “Would you do it?”
For a short moment, the Jendari woman studied Marix even more closely. Then, a few of her ‘feathers’ ruffled very slightly and she inclined her head, “You are the Empress, my lady.”
“Should we?”
The second question was still an attempt to avoid it, Marix knowing full well that the Jendari knew what she was talking about. The very idea of stating it directly bothered her so very much that she didn’t want to have to do it. It was one of those times where she wished her mother was alive still, because Marix knew that she would have made the right decision. She always seemed to.
“We have enough information to support that it would be...successful,” Liratt chose the last word very carefully. She then tilted her head to the left, eyes shifting to look at the other captain with her.
Marix didn’t know his name, but he was just a hair shorter than Liratt, with a matching uniform but darker skin and ‘feathers’ that were almost a greyish colour. Upon seeing that Liratt was looking to him, the other Jendari captain looked straight to Marix and spoke in a more solid voice that seemed normal for any military commander, “It would, of course depend on the accuracy of our other reports, my lady. If those are correct, however, then Sa’Liratt is also correct. They would be divided enough that our smaller numbers would mean success.”
Those two didn’t answer the question Marix had asked. They’d answered the other one she could have asked, but it was information she already knew. Of course it would succeed. Marix wouldn’t have continued considering it for more than a minute if it wasn’t doable. Doable wasn’t the problem. Success wasn’t the problem.
Right and wrong were.
Success didn’t matter if it took the Empire, her people, down a road to destruction of their way of life. A way of life that had served them for thousands of years and really didn’t need to be changed. It was different, yes, but that was what made them Alraxians. It was what made them better than the Mrrakesh. Even if they succeeded, would it make them like their enemies?
“Why won’t you answer my question?” Marix asked, finally, her mind still working it all out, weighing options and coming to the same conclusion every single time. Two options left. Only two. One of them would be an extreme change from everything that had come before, but could guarantee the safety of the Empire.
Liratt, again, inclined her head very slightly, a sign of respect when speaking to the Empress, “This is your decision to make, Marix, not mine. Not my people’s. We cannot help you make this choice without imposing our own will on you and the rest of the Empire. You are the Empress. You rule everything within this Empire, whether you want to or not.”
The tone with which the words were spoken caused Marix to say something out loud that she regretted a second later, “But if I make the wrong choice...”
“You know very well that it is not always about right and wrong,” Liratt replied softly, a three-fingered hand waving through the air very gently, “Trust your judgement as you always have trusted it. Do not let doubts instilled in you by anyone, no matter how close they are to you, affect that.”
Disbelief easy to see on her face, Marix stared at the group of Jendari. Her doubts, her sudden thinking right and wrong, were, in fact, instilled in her by someone else. Not only that, but it was by someone extremely close to her. Someone that, no matter how hard she tried, kept jumping right up to the forefront and making things so damned difficult...like always.
Jyren.
The idiot who always thought in right and wrong. The very poster boy for idealistic thought in the galaxy. The one man who could boil any grey situation into black and white just by easily squinting his eyes. And, truthfully, it wasn’t a completely terrible quality. Combined with Marix’s own rather grey sense of the galaxy, between the two of them, any situation could be dealt with. But he’d always hated that so much. Always come away from it feeling like he’d done something wrong.
And, for some reason beyond her, Marix had begun to feel the same way suddenly. Maybe it was because the definitely-dead image of Voort had mentioned him. Now she thought about what Jyren would say. And that was it, he would see it in right and wrong. He was answer it like that and it would sound so perfect and so easy to understand but it wouldn’t make it true...no matter how hard he wanted it to be.
“Protect the border,” suddenly, Marix’s voice was strong, firm, and almost icy in its tone, “Make sure that Mrrakesh cruiser gets back to their space then seal the border as tight as you can. Don’t let anything get through, no matter what.”
Almost as one, all of the Jendari bowed formally, with only Liratt speaking three, simple words: “Yes, my lady.”
Without anything else, not even a smile to acknowledge her making a choice they’d wanted, they left.
Marix watched them go, then, when she heard the door close shut, she leaned onto the back of the large chair she stood next to and let out a long sigh. Closing her eyes, she said softly to no one in particular, “You’d probably be proud of me. Gods, I’m talking to a dead man.”
“You did the right thing, Marix.”
The voice caused Marix to jerk upright and look across the long, empty chamber to see the blue-shrouded figure that was, yet again, Titus Voort. He stood there like he had on the Mrrakesh ship, stoic, with his arms behind his back and a surprisingly warm expression on his face.
Doing her best to put on her more sane face again, she took a few careful steps down from the throne to give this transparent figure a closer look, “Is it crazier to talk to a dead man you can’t see or one you can?”
“This is not as easy as it looks,” Voort said simply, “This is likely the last time I will be able to do this.”
Taking another step forward, Marix carefully inspected the figure from just a few meters away. It was him. It was exactly what Titus Voort had looked like before he died. He even wore a simple, plain tunic that was almost an Imperial uniform, but not quite. Folding her own arms across her chest, Marix said, “Why now?”
Voort shrugged, “You know why.”
She did know, though she wasn’t going to speak that, either. Instead, Marix just nodded, looking to the floor at her feet for a moment and then asking, “I’ve heard...stories about Jedi doing this, Voort. How did you do it?”
“I just did,” again, he shrugged and then motioned towards her with a simple wave of his hand, “I am sorry things worked out the way they did. I wish I could say the same to Jyren.”
And, again, Marix nodded. But then she latched onto the same name as before, “How do you know his real name?”
A hint of a smile formed on Voort’s transparent face, “I have been around for some time. It took so much to just exist in no form at all, this is...not something I can hold any longer. It is time for me to go forever. But you did the right thing. Don’t ever tell yourself otherwise.”
A feeling through the Force that Marix couldn’t describe emanated from Voort’s transparent figure. She gave up on working it out right away, then said quickly, knowing he was telling the truth, “We missed you, Voort. We needed you. You were a better man than you gave yourself credit for. Thank you for everything you did. And thank you...for being here now.”
“Thank you for making my life a little more interesting,” he raised a hand, smiled warmly, and then the image went away. When Titus Voort had died, Marix hadn’t really been there. She had been in a state of shock and it had just happened. So now, in an odd and very sudden turn of events that didn’t completely make sense to her, Marix was able to watch him go. And something about it was strangely comforting.
Closing her eyes again, Marix tilted her head up to the ceiling and just stared at the inside of her eyelids. There was so much she had to do. It would have been nice if Voort had stayed, even in that form. It was a reminder of a better time, back when everything was chaotic and insane but...fun. A word she so rarely associated with. A word she didn’t expect to use for a very long time, with the way things were going.
And then, Marix opened her eyes.
When she did that, all of the concerns and worries and nagging problems were forced away. She had to focus on the moment. Focus on the Empire. Settle it down after the attacks. Calm the people. Calm her people. Then...then Marix could worry about what was going to happen next.
