The brothers were quarreling again. Vette grimaced and quickly jogged into the medical bay of Havoc Squad’s starship. She didn’t know what she was going to do in there — both Kellaro and Brant could outmatch her when it came to fighting — but she didn’t feel right just letting it continue, either.
The corpse of the human Brant had slain was still lain out on one of the medical bay’s tables, halfway through an autopsy. Lieutenant Dorne was standing nearby, holding a scalpel in one hand as if she was contemplating who she would rather shove it into: the Major or the Sith. Vette came up beside her, gently touching her where her stained surgeon’s apron didn’t cover, nodding in query toward the twins.
Kellaro answered her inadvertently before Dorne could. “We had everything under control, until you arrived. You not only directly disobeyed my orders, you…” The human blew out his nostrils, but he couldn’t resist the rage, snapping his teeth into a grimace as his eyes flashed. “You killed our contact!”
“He needed to die,” said Brant stubbornly.
“I am the one who chooses that! I am the commanding officer, not you.”
“You certainly excel at making your will known at the top of your lungs,” Brant snarled back.
“What happened here?” Vette hissed to Dorne.
“The Sith slew our spy in the middle of negotiations,” Dorne said, her chilly voice even colder in disapproval.
“But why–”
Brant started and glared at Vette as her voice rose above a whisper, and then his eyes snapped to Dorne. He snarled. “You know what? Never mind. It’s clear you don’t give a damn about my reasons. So stay here and fuss at each other all night long if it pleases you. I’m returning to my quarters.” He turned to leave.
“And you stay there,” Kellaro snapped at his back, “until I give you the order to leave them again!”
Brant waved dismissively over one shoulder and stalked from the bay.
“Wowza, like giving a child a timeout,” said Vette, hoping the joke would bring the room’s temperature down a notch.
Luckily, her trick worked, and Kellaro huffed a sigh and leaned on the operating table, willing himself to calm down. “I swear I would do worse to him if I could,” he said.
“You wouldn’t,” said Vette. “You’re no Sith.”
“While he is,” growled Kellaro, and he started rubbing his face. “I could have told Father this was a bad idea. I don’t have room on this team for a Force-user, let alone a Sith who’s going to go off half-cocked at any person who looks at him wrong.”
“Is that really what happened?” asked Vette. “Why did he go for Stiff-Necked on the table there, anyway?”
“His name is Officer Hylar, not ‘Stiff-Necked’, Vette! …he was an engineer for one of the Emperor’s pleasure barges. We thought he might have information we could use, but Lightsaber-For-Brains stuck one in him just before he was going to tell. Right there, in front of everyone, specifically after I told him not to.”
“So,” said Vette carefully, “Are you more mad you lost the spy, or because Brant disobeyed?”
Kellaro eyed her. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Oh, no reason… I just happened to be your twin brother’s co-pilot for a number of years and you kind of pick up on some of the family’s traits in the process. You know, like stubbornness, a dislike for disobedient underlings, an uneven temper–”
“I’m nothing like Brant,” Kellaro said flatly.
“There’s certainly a few more ways he could be more like you and I wouldn’t complain, Major, but that wasn’t my point.”
Kellaro huffed another sigh, and he pushed off the operating table to turn to her. “If you have something to say, please just spit it out, Vette,” he said, and his tone was almost plaintive.
“Hey, that would almost be cheerful if you were Brant.” Vette grinned at him, then crossed her arms. “I’m just saying, you should try just talking to him instead of arguing over how well he followed some command. Especially up front of the crew. He usually has good reasons for doing the things he does.” She looked down at the body lying in two pieces on the table. “Er, usually.”
Kellaro’s look remained flat. “A Sith. Has good reasons.”
“Yes,” said Vette seriously, turning back to him. “You know, he’s a lot more than just some Sith. It might help if you got that through that Republic-y head of yours!”
Kellaro just looked at her, but at least his expression had softened. Vette decided that was as good as she was going to get, and she started edging for the door.
“Look, I’ll help you out. I’ll talk to him myself, and if he doesn’t have a good reason, well, then go hang him by his toes out of the airlock for a few minutes or whatever you need to do. Okay?”
“I trust you,” said Kellaro. He gave her a dismissal with a nod, then bent his head together with Dorne as she continued the autopsy. Vette flashed him a thumbs-up, then walked backwards out of the bay as fast as she could.
“Come in,” came Brant’s bored voice as she keyed her ID into the door’s salutations code. The door clicked as Brant unlocked it, and Vette opened it, stepping inside the small one-man bunk. Despite Kellaro’s misgivings, Brant had been assigned a private room on the ship, as was standard for Force-users in the Republic’s armies. It was probably one of the only things keeping him from fighting with the rest of the crew — or more than he already did, Vette thought.
“So, that was pretty tense,” she said lightly.
Brant grunted. He was lying on his back in the recessed bed cavity, his feet braced on the ceiling. He had a long string looped around his fingers and was making knots in it, a meditation habit he had picked up from the Jedi in Odessen’s Enclave. At least, meditation was what the Jedi used it for, but Vette had a feeling Brant was probably imagining a certain officer’s neck wrapped up in the string as the Sith gave it a jerk and laid it aside, looking at her.
“What do you want?” he said.
“I just wanted to check on you.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” said Brant sarcastically. “Just here being a Sith, locked in my cell like some prisoner. I’m only not jumping for joy because the ceiling’s too low.” And he gave it a kick.
“Well,” said Vette, “you kind of did completely muck up the mission.”
“No, I didn’t. The mission was doomed to fail anyway.”
“Why do you say that?”
“What does it matter? Haven’t you been listening to Kellaro and the crew lately? They hate me. That’s all.” Brant stopped kicking and closed his eyes.
Vette bit her lip. “I don’t know if that’s true…” Though it probably was. “…and even if it was, aren’t you a Sith? I thought you fed on hate like it was breakfast or something. It makes you stronger.”
Brant balled up the string and tossed it across the room. It made an unsatisfying plop on the wall before hanging itself on the door’s control buttons. “Am I a Sith? Am I just a Sith?”
“No,” said Vette quietly. They both knew what he really meant.
Brant rolled back on his back and gave the ceiling a stamp, since the string hadn’t satisfied. “I might as well be. They’re never going to see anything different, Vette. So I’m just trying to stay out of the way, until we can get back to Odessen. I put in the transfer request already… Just do me a favor and keep his stupid head out of trouble once I’m gone.”
“You really care for him, don’t you?” said Vette.
Brant didn’t reply. They both knew what he really meant about that as well.
Vette crossed over and sat on what little was left of the small bed’s space. “And he cares about you,” she said. “I don’t think he’d yell so loud if he didn’t.”
“You’re terrible at reassurance.”
“Fine, I’ll be the bad guy, then. Brant, you really were a moron for killing that man. Kellaro’s right to be mad at you.”
“So sue me,” grunted Brant, and he put an arm over his face. “Or, no, don’t: the Republic really does sue over shat like this, don’t they? Ugh!” He flung the arm back off, knocking his fist into the wall. “Look. I had to kill him. All right? There was no time.”
“Time for what?”
“To warn anybody. He had rigged that case with a detonator. He was about to blow it before I ended his miserable life.”
“Why didn’t you tell Kellaro that? And how did you know?”
“I was trying to, but he was too busy fussing over morale and ruined plans,” grumbled Brant. “I knew because I’ve seen it before. Hylar had a neural implant. The Emperor loves to bug his engineers so, in case they try and do something stupid like spill the beans about his ship’s ventilation system.”
“The autopsy hasn’t found any implants…”
“Because they always drill it in deep and close the scalp over it,” growled Brant. “They try to hide it, but you can tell, because their hands start twitching and shaking whenever that thing goes live and forces them to do something they don’t want to do. Like blow some major sky-high with a bomb embedded in the fancy blueprints he thought he was about to get.”
“So you saved Kellaro’s life,” said Vette.
“I saved all of you, but it’s not like you care, is it?” snapped Brant, and he flipped on his side, facing the wall.
“I care,” said Vette, “and I know Kellaro would too, if he knew.”
“Huh. Well, good luck getting a word in edgewise with that goose-stepper.”
“He’s not a goose-stepper, Brant. He’s got a lot on his plate right now, between this mission and his crew and, well, you. And you haven’t exactly been making it very easy for him, you know, questioning him upfront of the others like he’s some kind of moron like that. You know he’s not.”
“Then that explains him treating me like a child?”
Vette crossed her arms. “You have to admit you Sith sure do act like one sometimes.”
“Ha, ha. Not funny.”
“It’s not supposed to be.” Vette poked him in the back.
“Quit that!”
“Then quit sulking over what’s just some stupid misunderstanding! Go corner him when he’s not busy and tell him in private how badly he screwed up.” She poked him again.
“He’s not going to listen to me,” Brant muttered.
“He is, because I told him to,” countered Vette.
“Oh? And what rank do you carry around here that’ll make him obey you?”
“The Vette rank.” And Vette gave him a third poke, hard, causing Brant to squirm and swat her hand away from the back of his neck. “And you should know through personal experience that’s the highest rank of all, not even bested by the worst shocks this Sith could throw at her.”
That caused Brant to pause, glancing at her with what Vette almost thought could be an apology. He then unrolled, facing her. “Fine. You win, you damned Twi’lek. Where is he now?”
“That’s more like it,” said Vette with a grin. “Come on. I’ll get you an audience with His Highness.”
“Call him that while I’m there to watch,” grunted Brant, but he was finally starting to smile.
“You don’t have to believe what I’m saying. You can believe the body. Look–”
“Brant–” started Kellaro in a growl, but Vette shushed him, and he screwed his mouth shut, grimacing as Brant used his lightsaber to delicately cut away the top of the spy’s head. The Sith bent over, and Kellaro craned his neck to make sure Brant wasn’t about to pull one over on him as he poked and prodded at the exposed brain.
The Sith finally pinched his fingers together and slowly drew something out of the man’s skull. He held it up to Kellaro: a long needle, with a claw on one end and a small disc, for wireless transmission, on the other.
“Well I’ll be damned,” said Kellaro.
“You’d be dead,” snarled Brant, and the twins looked at each other for a long, awkward moment. Brant finally set the needle on his palm and offered it to the major.
“Put it over there,” said Kellaro uncomfortably, folding his arms. “I’ll see if Dorne or one of the others can slice into its transmissions, maybe salvage something out of this.” He bit his lip, then looked at Brant shame-facedly once the Sith had put the implant away. “Although… even just knowing the Emperor can do something like this is a help. How could you tell, again?”
“It’s always the fingers,” said Brant, washing his hands in the basin. “The third finger in particular. Most humans can’t raise it independently, but something about the way that thing fires its signals means they can. ”
“And they start twitching it when the implant’s making them do something they don’t want to,” said Kellaro.
“Yeah, though I don’t see why that matters.” Brant flicked the water off his hands and went to glower at him from by the door.
“It matters,” said Kellaro sharply, “because that’s how we know he was being sincere about helping us.”
“So what?”
“So it means our middlemen weren’t lying to us or dropping the ball on vetting their informants. It means his name won’t go down in the record books as a traitor to the Alliance. And it means whatever he told us before he tried to set the bomb off was true, and some of that was valuable information.”
“Oh, please. You really consider all of that when talking to some spy?” Brant crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“I do, actually, because it’s my job to,” said Kellaro sternly. “That’s why I’m the major. I know the full plan and what part you each have to play to make it work. I’m looking after all of you, that man included, and not just when–”
“–when you’re so concerned with being the boss that you put some lowlife’s neck over mine?” growled Brant.
The intended insult didn’t land. Kellaro paused, bowing his head. “Over all of ours, apparently. I’m not too proud to admit that, Brant… I just thought…”
“You thought I was being a Sith,” Brant said coldly. “Nothing more.”
Kellaro matched gazes with him, and the major’s shoulders fell the rest of the way. “Yes. I admit it. But I was wrong.” He bit his lip. “I’m… really glad I was wrong.”
Brant also softened, and Vette smiled to herself softly.
Kellaro sighed and slashed the air with his hand. “But look. This doesn’t solve all our problems. Brant, whether you like it or not, I am your commanding officer, and when you question me without cause, or as nastily as you did upfront of my crew this morning, it causes all kinds of problems down the chain. I need you to trust me, and to do as I say. You can always step into my office afterward to tell me just what kind of idiot you think I’m being.”
“If I had waited to tell you about this, we would all be dead,” said Brant flatly. “What would you have rathered I had done?”
“Okay, so you were right, this time.”
“This time?”
“This time,” Kellaro repeated with a frown. “You are hot-headed, and you take off without telling anyone what you’re up to, and that means I can’t plan around you, that I have to wait for you to get back from whatever zany thing you’re doing before I can deploy the rest of my soldiers without fear I might accidentally blow you up with friendly fire. And I’m not saying that to browbeat you. I– I was the same way, once. You should hear Dad about it some time… but it does mean you are a blaring red liability until you learn to mind me.”
“Maybe you can use a shock collar on him,” chirped Vette, and both brothers glared at her.
Kellaro’s expression was still stern when he turned back to Brant, though Brant’s was softer, even remorseful.
“Fine,” Brant said. “I can admit that. I do so despise working on teams… I’m not without my skills though, and maybe it’d behoove you to remember that.”
Kellaro shrugged, conceding the point. “It’s like something Dad said to me before we left… You have to work with the soldier you have. And I-I’ve been handling you like you’ve gone through basic training and know all my rules, how this crew runs, but you don’t.”
“He said that about me?” Brant asked in befuddlement.
“Not that exactly,” said Kellaro. Brant crossed his arms, and Kellaro elaborated. “He… told me I couldn’t imagine what you’ve been through, and that as much I wanted you to be… my twin brother… you-you weren’t anymore.”
“We’re not twin brothers?” Brant sounded doubtful.
“No, not like we were when we were kids. When we went everywhere together, did everything together. You would even finish my sentences–”
“Okay, I get it,” said Brant, darkening slightly in embarrassment.
“I just wanted so badly for us to–” Kellaro stopped abruptly, this time being the one to blush.
“Yeah…” Brant sighed. “…I know.”
“It clouded my judgment,” said Kellaro. “I’m sorry.”
Brant blinked rapidly, shrugged. “Don’t be,” he muttered, barely audible. “It’s not a wrong thing to wish.”
Vette looked between them, biting her lip. Kellaro looked at Brant with wide eyes. Neither brother said anything for a long moment.
“The one thing we don’t have anymore is trust,” said Brant finally. “Dad is right. You don’t know what I’ve been through, nor what you’re actually asking me to do when you say to trust you blindly.” He sighed. “But I’ll try, Kellaro. For your sake.”
“I don’t want blind trust,” said Kellaro. “I just want you to stop assuming we all know what you’re up to, and then when I say duck, for you to do it without giving me a mouthful and getting all our heads blown off for your trouble.”
“You two really are a lot alike,” said Vette suddenly. “Who’s lecturing who about getting blown up again?”
Kellaro blinked, then he chuckled. Brant also smiled, wryly, with one corner of his mouth.
“So. Truce, then? You going to start doing as you’re told?” said Kellaro, offering him a hand.
“Never,” said Brant with a straight face, then grinned when Kellaro glared at him. He took the hand. “Unless I know for sure you’re being an idiot, like with this engineer, I will,” he vowed.
“That’s all I ask,” said Kellaro, and his sigh was one of relief. Brant held onto his hand a second longer than he had to after shaking it, then, dropping it, he turned away without saying another word.
“One more thing,” said Kellaro, as his eyes fell on the body on the operation table. Brant turned, eyes narrowed. “Get together with Dorne and have her go over the Republic soldier’s handbook with you.”
The Sith stared at him with disbelief. “Isn’t that thing a thousand pages long?”
“Yes,” said Kellaro, raising his chin. “You want the freedom to do what you think best while in my unit; that much is clear. If you’re actually going to think best, and not just think you think best, then you need to know how this crew runs.”
“I hope the damn thing makes more sense than you just did,” said Brant.
“It’s an order,” said Kellaro stiffly.
It was a test, too, but maybe the brothers didn’t know it yet, Vette thought. Slowly, Brant started to nod, and she let out a sigh of relief. Kellaro swallowed and turned away, carefully picking up the tray with the implant and bringing it to the analysis bench.
So far, they had both passed it.