Rearming: The Answer Is Always Yes (Transcript.)

[Charlotte]

"You should see someone about that arm." The Mechanic sounded casual enough, but one glance at him would suggest that he was taking things very seriously at the moment--so seriously that he didn't mind displaying that fact by walking around obviously armed to the teeth. He was wearing the dark, rugged, close-fitting gear of a Point One field medic, but all the thin, odd things in the pockets, or strapped to his arms or legs weren't medical supplies. Aside from the pair of heavy blasters he was carrying, everything else was unrecognizable and matte black and dangerous-looking.

Caedmon's head was bowed. He had been lost in thought... terribly lost in his thoughts. So much so, that he didn't realize the mechanic had walked up on him. Startled, he spun on his heel, brown eyes taking in the sight of the Technosavant... The Jedi Master relaxed considerably. "Tlin!" A quick whisper of surprise. His arm hung a useless lump at his side. Cato had long since ditched the metal portion, and sinched it in a long sleeved shirt. But lacking an arm was a dead give away, when people were trying to find you. "Was I that easy to find?" Cae's pace matched Sadhrics. He didn't have any place to go, he had a great deal of things to get done. One of them being his arm.. which was one of the reasons he had gone to Manaan. "We have a lot to talk about, you and I..." But the Jedi Master didn't start to talk about them, feeling more inclined to simply keep walking. Before finally saying..."Do you know anyone who could engineer me a new one? I was hoping bio-engineering... like they do for the organs. Or perhaps something a bit more tricky..."

"Do I look like I have friends?" Sadhric glanced sidelong at him. "… So I suppose you'll have to settle for whatever I can whip up. Do you want it natural or utilitarian?"

Cato smiled wearily. "You've got at least one." Bowing his head, his eyes closed... He had to focus more. Being caught so easily bothered him. And so, he stretched his senses out, further and further. Till his senses were on the verge of full immersion." How natural can a piece of metal be?" He laughed a little, and cast a side-ways glance toward Sadhric... "Could you get a hold of cortosis?"

"With effort," The Mechanic said warily. He shrugged, though, watchful of the people around them. "And I can grow you a new biological arm--the treatment would be similar to what I did for Murra." A brief frown: "That failed for reasons other than my procedure."

Caedmon shook his head. As much as he wanted a new arm, a real arm, the advantages of a metal one outweighed his hearts desire. "The effort is necessary. The Dark Side is growing strong..." And though he was confident in his skills with a lightsabre… being able to whip his arm around, made of the substance, well that was an advantage that he'd like to have. "It'd have to be cortosis woven over durasteel.. or an alloy. Something to deactivate the blade." He said with little more than a whisper.

"Who are you afraid of today?"

"I fear no one... you know this." Cato, knew it was the truth. When you didn't fear death, there was little in the way of fear. "I am wary of many... Kedemel Sorath, or as he dubbed himself Gilkane... Dark Lord of the Sith. Marcus Thorne and his partner Keiran Lang... Lang is an animal... " Caedmon had seen that with his own eyes. Had seen the man slaughter the boar with rapid strikes of a wooden spear, so fast that his eyes had barely enough time to register the movements. "And Serephes... the man wants me dead..." Among many others.

"Dark Lord of the Sith?" Sadhric sighed. "This is woefully repetitive, you know." He shrugged, though, and said, "I'll look into the materials for your arm, despite the fact that you were a godsdamned moron in Buffton Tower.… You caused unnecessary waste."

Caedmon shrugged his shoulders. "It tends to be an endless circle with the Dark Lords." He paused, sighing to himself. "The situation escalated itself with all that went on in the Republic... and they were getting ready to drug me again... neither prospect delighted me. " He shook his head.. "They were doing some experiment on children below me. They were doing experiment on Force Sensitives.." Perhaps even on him. "It ended poorly... but speaking of Buffton Tower." His gaze drifted to Sadhric..."Don't ever try to use my son against me again." That was all. He didn't need to elaborate, or try to explain what he meant. "What do we do about Serephes and the Republic?"

"Kill him." Sadhric pointed out a dingy-looking cantina on the level below them. "In there."

If The Mechanic had anything to say about the matter of Jonas, he kept it to himself for now. The same with what he saw as Caedmon's refusal to accept responsibility.

"If I could go back and change it... I would..." He whispered softly under his breath... quickly moving to the balcony, and staring over the edge. "Somehow I don't think that will be as easy as you make it sound..." He leaned forward, to look at the dingy Cantina... "In there what?" He focused on that cantina, through the force... trying to locate just what Tlin had in mind.

It was just a cantina. Just a place where people went to drink and sit a little. It was noisy, but mostly that was the music, because at this hour most people were either working or passed out. Sadhric was heading in the direction of the public lift. "I was close to getting you out without any bloodshed," he said. "I thought that was how you'd prefer it."

"I would have preferred that. I tried for that in the first few minutes... Vahn, didn't make that so possible." He seemed as sad as he had during the war, but in an instant it washed itself away. "It felt like too much was on the move to wait.... Gavin on the run, Serephes coming to the surface. Mercy out in public." Cae remembered the news holo-perfectly. "I thought it wouldn't be long before they made a trade with the New Order... Maltez Buffton, never had much love for me…." And rightly so, was Caedmon's after thought. His arm folded slowly over his stomach, as he continued walking to the lift.

The Mechanic stopped short. "That trade was me, Cato. My doing. I was going to dangle Thorne in front of them and yank him out of reach once you'd been transferred." His mouth twitched tightly. "And Vahn...." He growled the name. "He played on your fears--oh, I'm sorry; you don't feel fear--your concerns, and cost me quite a bit in the process."

"An actual trade Sadhric. Not you, but the actual Republic. Vahn, didn't mention that a trade was going on at the time. All he did was show me the Republic crumbling beneath a man that I think..." He stopped himself. There was no point in arguing this. "It’s done. It’s over. I cannot change what happened. I was tricked... and bad things happened, as they often do when one is tricked. I will repent, I will work for the rest of my frakkin' life to try and right the wrongs I've done... and hope to not make the same mistake twice."

"I'm the last person who would try to make you feel guilt," Sadhric scoffed. "Guilt is worthless. But next time, when I tell you to sit tight, I fucking mean it." He sighed heavily. "Anyway. Repenting never did anyone any good. Look where it got Shaon."

Caedmon Cato felt like a scolded child. But he kept himself from commenting on it. Then Sadhric said something that shocked him. Repenting never did anyone good... "It did him good... look where it got him indeed..." Cato didn't have the holo-cam angle to reveal it, but he had seen the final strike in his mind's eye... " He's one with the Force... free, even the crude matter that surrounded his soul." His head bowed, and Caedmon suppressed the rising memories that the conversation had brought up. Stepping onto the lift, he waited for it to begin down. "Lest we repent our sins, we'll be forced to repeat our sins..."

Joining him in the lift, Sadhric muttered, "Then I suppose there aren't many people in the galaxy who believe in repentance, because we're about to jump through the same fucking hoops again. Same stage. Same script. Different fuckers. I'm just glad I won't live to see it get shredded again."

Caedmon cast a glance sharply to Sadhric. "Won't live to see it get shredded again? What do you mean?"

When the lift doors opened, Sadhric simply walked out and started across toward the cantina.

Caedmon was already besides him, waiting patiently for his friend to answer. Something seemed wrong about Sadhric's statement. Something seemed so wholly and unbelievably wrong, that his head started hurting... "Well?"

"Forget it. Tell me about that fellow Lang you mentioned." He moved into the dimly lit interior of the cantina, but went behind the bar with a little motion for Caedmon, and passed into the back room as if he owned the place. The employees didn't so much as glance their way.

But see that was the biggest problem about Caedmon. He couldn't forget. He never forgot. It burned in the back of his mind. Won't live to see it get shredded again. He frowned. "Keiran Lang, the supposed son of Skywalker... a fighting prodigy... beyond that... i know only he fancies himself in between the light and the dark... and seeking a new order for things."

"You have to think," Sadhric mused, "that if the people who believe in reincarnation are correct, then we all must have been viciously evil in past lives to deserve this constant onslaught of morons seeking a new order for things."

Caedmon didn't comment. He didn't believe in reincarnation. But he could see where Sadhric was coming from. Everything seemed to repeat itself. "To think, this all started nearly a century ago... and it just won't end."

The back room of the cantina was actually just a more private section. It was set up, here, with tables and chairs and gambling games, but it was also where all the cantina’s supplies were kept in crates and cubbyholes along the walls, and it was utterly empty at the moment. There was a far door in the square room, probably to an office, but Sadhric took a seat at one of the tables and gestured mutely toward Caedmon's arm, holding out a hand for the stump.

Caedmon sat, reaching over to his elbow, he unknotted the shirt, and extended the stump. His eyes staring at it. He hadn't taken the best care of it... as matter of fact, any doctor worth his weight in credits, would have scolded the Jedi Master for tossing the half-limb around like it had a fist connected to it. Staring at it now, he wondered how he would have fared if Keiran Lang and Marcus Thorne had cornered him on Corellia... "I was on Corellia hours before Ith'Li bit the dust... I'm starting to wonder, if death and disaster don't follow me around..."

Sadhric glanced up at him briefly, but went about his examination quickly and efficiently. "You're sure," he said slowly, "that you don't want a natural arm?" He looked up again, just his eyes, without moving his head.

Caedmon sighed. "I want a natural arm... but what I want, and what I take are two different things. The cortosis weave arm, offers advantages in lightsabre to lightsabre combat, that I might need if I am out numbered... or out classed."

"Is that the way of the Jedi?"

"No. It isn't... and it isn't the first time I've done it." He said with a pause. He was staring at the opposite wall. "But war has come to me far too many times for me not to feel like the Force wants less of my studying, and more of my fighting."

"Really." Sadhric sounded unconvinced and vaguely annoyed. "In that case, if we're ruled by the patterns around us, what do you think that means the Force wants of me?" He let go of Caedmon's arm and got up to go pull a long rectangular bag from a cubby, kneeling down beside it and starting to rummage through it.

The Jedi frowned. Brown eyes turning to look at him. "Then patterns dictate you will create some great and grievous instrument... both beautiful and frightening..." He was smiling now, as if they both had been joking. "Then, let’s give me a natural arm... I can wear a cortosis gauntlet if I feel I need it..."

The Mechanic nodded, pulled a kit out of the bag and came back to the table after shoving the bag back into its place. Sitting down, he said, "And don't worry: If you change your mind later, we can always just lop it off."

Cae laughed. "Of course, easier to remove than to add…." He watched the mechanic carefully. "What do you think the Buffton children are going to do?"

Pulling open the kit and flicking through the vials in it, Sadhric shrugged. "Did you know that when Remordian hogs die, the farmers just leave the carcasses in the pens? The other hogs don't care; they shred the damn things. Brother, sister, mother, father--they don't give a damn. They just feast."

Cae blinked. "No, I didn't know that.." But he could see the Bufftons ready to do the same..."To the New Order? Or to Maltez's last will and testament?"

"To anything and everything," Sadhric answered distractedly. He was lining up vials on the table as he selected them. "Anything within their grasp. Meridian is the one in the surest position to rein them in, but I'm not sure about her."

"I have to go to his funeral... can you help make it happen?"

Sadhric stopped what he was doing. "I beg your pardon?"

"Can you make it happen?"

"That depends," Sadhric snapped. "How many pieces do you want to be in afterwards?"

"Preferably one living piece..."

"Then no." His mouth was a tight line, but his eyes were unfocused and his brow was tense, which meant he was angry but thinking it over. It shouldn't have come as much of a surprise to someone who knew him, therefore, when a moment later he asked: "How close do you want to get?"

Same room... possibly at the casket if possible." He could tell Sadhric didn't like the idea. Didn't want him to go through with it, but was thinking it over. The Mechanic had to know, Cato would go through with it one way or another... "Mayhaps with Vong Bio-Tech... an Ooglith-Masqarie.."

"Stop living in the past," Sadhric told him irritably with a negligent wave of his hand: "I can top that. But why in the hell do you want to get to the fucking casket?"

Cae laughed, and nodded his head. "I had a vision... someone is going to steal the casket."

The look Caedmon got was Sadhric assessing whether or not he was joking.

[Charlotte]

He stared at Tlin with a quiet look in his eyes. He wasn't joking. "I might not have gotten along with the man... but, that’s an incident that will not bode well for anyone..."

Once he'd ascertained that the Jedi Master was serious, Sadhric looked stumped. "Who cares?" he finally asked. "Aren't you the one always going around telling everyone about how we're not this 'crude matter' and shit like that?"

"I don't care about what happens to his flesh. Others however do. I know the shell he has left behind, offers nothing to the living. Will offer nothing to the dead, but for some odd reason people in this frakkin' crazed galaxy saw Maltez Buffton as a good decent man, and not the slave driving criminal that he was. They will do rash things if that body gets kidnapped."

"Then let them," Sadhric said--and he held up a hand even as he said it to forestall the inevitable droning. "I'm not saying that out of total indifference. But it's stupid for you to go back there. Just flat-out stupid, understand? I'll alert Meridian to this, if you want. Let her handle it."

"I don't think she'll be able to handle it. I think it might result in a few deaths... of people I don't think should die yet." Was all he said. He knew it was stupid. But he knew he had to be there. He also knew, a part of him wanted to see Maltez off, just to be sure the bastard was dead.

"I'll be there," Sadhric told him flatly.

"You’re a suspect too, Tlin."

"But I'm a suspect who owns the planet they're squatting on, and I mean to make sure Meridian suspects that."

Cato tilted his head... "You own Coruscant?"

"For all practical purposes," The Mechanic told him casually. "I have, after all, been deeply involved in"--he suddenly grew cat-quiet--"reconstruction."

Cae shook his head, laughing to himself. Some things just couldn't surprise him. "Then perhaps you can help me locate Kedemal Sorath..."

"Perhaps I could. Are you going to visit him with one arm?"

"No, I don't think that would be a wise idea."

"Good to hear that you’re considering wisdom." But Sadhric wasn't really ticked. He sighed a little, and his jaw tensed for a moment. And then his shoulders sagged a little. "You have to answer me honestly this time. Does the Force want something from me? Is there something to see that I'm not seeing?" He shook his head and quickly added: "I'm not saying I'll care, mind you."

"There are a great things to see that you don't see. But... I don't speak for the Force, Sadhric... my guess is, it does want something from you... why else would it keep, well, not letting you escape?"

The Mechanic raised a brow at that.

Cae closed his eyes. "Many a Force Scholar studies their lives away, trying to figure out what they're not seeing, what the force wants from them. Its a part of training a Jedi, to learn how to open yourself to the Will of The Force; but more often than not, a Jedi can lose sight of what’s the Will of the Force, and what’s just their Will." He sighed, right hand resting on table top. "What I'm trying to say, is what the Force wants from you will be revealed in time, you can only follow through with what your heart says until then."

"Sounds like a clot of banthashit to me," Sadhric sighed, going back to picking out vials. There were six now, all in a row on the table.

Caedmon frowned big time, and bowed his head completely. Before glancing at those vials. "So what are those vials?"

"I think... I'm going to want you to start taking these with your meals--I'll measure out dosage when I've decided for sure if I want to go this route." He paused, and then twitched a hand toward Caedmon's stump. "For your arm," he explained. "They're tracers, mostly. But considering how quickly you're going to need this work done, I may have to think of something else."

"Tracers? What do you mean taking these with my meals? What exactly do they do, doctor?" A part of him felt untrusting... but he had had faith in Tlin, and he needed to continue that faith….

"Your body is going to be growing a new limb, Cato. Do you want it to be right the first time, or do you want to take a chance with it?"

"Growing?!" He looked at Tlin like he was crazy. He felt a bit dizzy himself. "What if I miss a meal? And just take the dosage? Or aren't able to take both?"

"Shouldn't be a catastrophe. The tracers are going to be there so that I can see and manipulate what's going on from the inside-out." He paused. "Chances are, the only help that will be needed from me once everything is kickstarted will be in accelerating the process."

Caedmon nodded his head. "Then the tracers leave my body when it’s grown?"

"They'd leave it before that if you didn't replace them." The Mechanic eyed the Jedi curiously. "Don't trust me?"

Caedmon gave The Mechanic a somber glance. "With my life Sadhric.... But if you can trace me, then who else can?"

"Now you sound like me."

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"It makes me less concerned in some ways, and more concerned in others. But don't worry. They're passive tracers. They don't show up if someone's not looking for them specifically."

Cae nodded his head. "Then let’s hope these walls are deaf."

Sadhric's look became more analytical. "You are afraid."

Caedmon frowned. "Wary, not afraid...." He looked both ways cautiously, then back to Sadhric..."I'm not ready to die..."

"You're feeling it, too?" Sadhric asked quietly, his own eyes cautious—but he shook his head and stood up, his chair scraping back. "Nevermind. I'll fix your arm."

"It’s on the edge of my mind... I can feel it... the Force whispering, not yet... but close." And he stared at his arm. "And I'm not ready. I haven't done enough, to be able to die."

"I don't think the universe cares…. In fact," he said, "I know it doesn't."

"Probably not. But then, that’s part of the point isn't it? During the Praetorian War, any day... any hour, and I would have been fine about it.. Fine to simply drift into the Force forever. Even for a little while... But now?" He shook his head, black hair falling in front of his eyes. He fell silent... "Would you take a normal life if offered one?" It was a question, Cato had asked Sadhric once before... and now, sitting across the table... he couldn't help but feel something burning at his mind to be uncovered... yet impossibly far from his ability to reveal it.

"I wouldn't know what to do with one." The Mechanic frowned, obviously thinking about it. "I think I'd just muck it up. Warp it. It would become just like this one."

Caedmon leaned back in his seat, staring at the table. "Are we so destined to follow the same steps over again?" Cato's voice softened, and he sat up again. "The Force wants something from you indeed Sadhric Tlin... And in time, it will give you what you need to give it what it wants..." He didn't know how he knew that. Just that something in his heart was telling him that was the case.

"Banthashit," Sadhric repeated in a whisper, with a shake of his head. There was a lot he didn't say. A lot that he bit back, because he was feeling caustic toward everything, and it was Herculean effort not to spit that acid in every direction. Watching Caedmon, he knew the Jedi Master wouldn't be able to take it.... "If things would let up for a day," he finally breathed, "just one day...."

"Then what? Just one day? What would you do with just one day without worries... without anything but freedom?"

The Mechanic laughed quietly. "I'd say that I'd sleep, but I know I wouldn't waste a day like that asleep. So if I was awake and not fabricating things to worry about... on a day like that... I'd make something good."

"What would you make, Sadhric?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "Just something that wasn't a defense against anything, or an escape from something else, or a piece of a future weapon. Just something for its own sake." He looked embarrassed. "Sounds stupid, no?"

Caedmon shook his head. "No... It doesn't sound stupid... I often wonder just what I would do... and I think I might fish... or farm…or read... or maybe go work a regular job, like I was a regular man..."

"I think you'd be good at a life like that," Sadhric said. "I mean that as a compliment, by the way. And I think you deserve something like that. I mean... it's not your fault you're an idiot."

"I'm no good at life like that... I've tried it before... the Force, doesn't want me to have that life." He laughed at being called an idiot in the compliment. "We both deserve something simple like that... at least for a little while. I, however, will not get it. You, on the other hand..." He drifted, a thought caught somewhere between understanding of it, and not quite remembering it.

"Impossible."

"No... wait.." He raised his good hand, closing his eyes. He couldn't remember something. That alone was enough to burn him. That was enough to get underneath his skin. "Oh, heavens help me... I can't remember it..." What it was, well that was something that was another problem altogether.

Sadhric was watching him intently suddenly. Very intently. Behind his Lenses, his eyes had narrowed a little.

He stared, dumbfounded, for a minute, trying to gather the information he was seeking. And now, for the first time, Caedmon realized he was missing a part of a picture. The part before he erased his memory. The part, right before he woke up with a family. What had happened? Realizing he had gone silent, he looked up...brown eyes falling on Sadhric…. "Never has that happen before... it’s...eerie…." Or perhaps it was odd, knowing that he had willingly done that to himself...

"What was it? You feeling all right?" Sadhric turned his head a little, and eyed Caedmon nearly sidelong.

Cae coughed, and seemed to brush away the thoughts that were bothering him so. "Yes, I'm fine..." His mind raced to come up with more important matters. "The FireFly was impounded here... they're holding it in the private hangar where they located it…." He knew it had been left, and only clever digging had brought about the Republic's finding it, and subsequent trap. "I'd like to find a way to get it out and off world; the ship means a lot to me." Cato, had a general belief that attachments should be let go. That one had to be willing to let go of things that bound them to the mortal coil. It was difficult even for him... but alot of that had to do with his son.

The Mechanic nodded. "Where do you want it to end up?" he asked as easily as if Caedmon had said he wanted to send a greeting card.

"Preferably somewhere without a large group of people wanting me dead..." He went silent, and leaned forward, brown eyes focused on Tlin..."Before I say more, I just want to take a moment to thank you Sadhric... I really do appreciate your friendship. " Cato had done many an immoral thing, and he generally appreciated Sadhric questioning him, refocusing him... making him realize just what he was.

Sadhric froze for a moment, and then coughed and stood up. He shrugged rather than saying anything to draw out that uncomfortable moment. "I'll get your ship out as soon as I can, as you said, figure out what misbegotten rock in this galaxy is free of people who want to kill you."

“I'm sure we can find some place....Maybe Bastion? They don't all want to kill me." Cato stood up, and sighed lightly..."I know I'm being a pain, but after the funeral... I need to get to The Planet of the BlackSands, could you drop the star-charts there in The FireFly's navcomp?" He was however, staring at the vials, unsure of just how his growing an arm was going to work.

Sadhric turned around and stared down at him. "Pardon me," he said with exquisite politeness, "but if you've officially lost your mind, I hope you'd have the good manners to just come right out and say so."

"I think I might have lost it somewhere along the way... but that was years ago...." He said with a half-cocked smile. Quieting..."The force has been calling me... it wants me to find it, there’s unfinished bussiness that I must attend to on the planet."

The Mechanic frowned. He barely remembered what happened for a large portion of that trip, and memory loss wasn't something he took well, either. Very reluctantly, he said, "Fine. Anything else, Master Cato?"

[Charlotte]

"Have you seen Jeryndi Trander?" All his questions had been gradually building up the courage to ask. He couldn't feel the boy in the force, and he was worried... genuinely worried. The last time he and Jeryndi had talked, well... it hadn't gone well. Cae had grown to think of the young man, even in his 'righteous' anger at the Jedi Master, as something akin to another son... and having come out of prison, he had no means in which to track him...

Obviously startled by that question more than the others, Sadhric recovered quickly, looking bland. "Not for a while."

Caedmon seemed to catch it. Catch it through the force. For a moment, he felt his heart sink. Why had that caught Sadhric off guard? He closed his eyes, and just tried to picture what had happened. "I can't feel him through the force... I don't know if he died well I was in that force cage..."

"I can look for him," Sadhric offered quietly. "But... last I heard, he'd taken up with dangerous people."

Caedmon frowned at that, adding a box to the list of things he had to do. He would find Jeryndi..."No... in time, if he is still alive, the force will bring us together again." Feeling akward, and wanting to bring the subject back to something stable, he asked..."So, where do we start with this arm-growing?"

Thinking it over, The Mechanic said, "My ship. Though... I may have to find a better facility. We'll know when we see how well your body responds to the initial treatment."

Caedmon had given his body over to the Force many times now. He had immersed himself fully into the Force, so deeply that the lines between his consciousness and sheer existence had felt like they were one and the same. At those times, he merely watched from a thousand and one angles of what his body did. He stood, and seemed ready to follow Sadhric to the ship. "How come it feels like all that we worked for in the Praetorian war, was just to pave the way for these would be dark-lords... and not for a better place and time?" Had Khetu's death really been just the unhinging of the glue that held the barricades up? For a moment, he wondered if it wouldn't have been better to simply have let Ashton win.

"I can't even think that way right now," Sadhric said sharply, leaving the cantina out the back way and starting down a service corridor. "I have a thousand separate problems to chip away at, each demanding my attention. I can't even let that kind of thought in."

Caedmon nodded. And perhaps that’s why Sadhric wasn't being defeated, and the Jedi Master was. The galaxy seemed against order and security. The galaxy seemed ready to swallow him whole. His thoughts drifted to men like Giddeon Serephes, and Keiran Lang, and Kedemel Sorath... and Maltez Buffton... and knew, their fates had to all be the same. His good hand closed tightly, and it was his burden to make it so.