Never Too Late (To Pay Your Fees)

[Hal Terrano]

Strichen Library, Mirial

The One Sith had collapsed, Vrag was dead.

On a purely technical level, these two occurrences meant that Hal Terrano was free. However technical freedom and actual freedom were two entirely different creatures, at least for him. There was nothing stopping the archivist from appearing on the doorstep of the Galactic Alliance in search of outstretched arms. Well, nothing but his own utter hopelessness.

Who else but Terrano to make such an easy decision so infuriatingly difficult?

So, naturally, instead of seeking out those who may have helped the former archivist sought seclusion. Some things never change.

His decision had been set up behind a wall of his own logic. Frankly, the idea of a return to the Jedi would have been dangerous, Sith Poison permeated his being, an attempt to further bring him into the Sith fold. A lifetime of regimented discipline had left the man in a position where he could control the condition, but only in self-inflicted isolation. Solitude created safety.

Or perhaps cowardice.

The former-Jedi had established himself in a quiet town, far from capital cities and large populaces. A peaceful library off the beaten path that had been in need of an experienced head, mostly because everything was a catastrophic mess (only he would refer to a disorganised library as a catastrophe). Not that this was a problem, oh no, Hal was in his element, he could bring proper structure to the data. Starting from scratch he could create a database, and properly categorize the realms of knowledge before him. There would be a small grain of satisfaction from fixing the mess.

Not to mention it kept the mind busy.

The only issue lay in customer service. Within the Byss Archives Terrano was left to his own devices, nobody wished to bother the brooding archivist, or maybe nobody noticed he was even there. However, this was a public service, despite his misery etched features, people still approached, they asked questions, wanted recommendations.

In another time Hal would have welcomed any and all who came in search of knowledge, and would have harshly scolded those who came bearing late fees. This was not that time. He was not that man.

So he sat, in his typical silence, the Yuuzhan Vong biots that sat in place of eyes swirled a granite grey as they perused the viewscreen that sat upon his desk, another day of catagorical adjustments ahead of him.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Most of the places that held the kind of archives she needed were situated on planets that Beth simply wasn't ready to visit yet.

500 years had passed since she'd merged with the forest of Zonama Sekot. In the broadest of strokes, the galaxy hadn't changed. People were born and died, wars were fought. There was kindness and despair. But in the little ways, Bethany suspected that she ought to feel cast adrift. The people that she had known, her family- her husband and children- were all long gone. Either it hadn't fully hit her yet, or she truly had made her peace with it. After all, she hadn't been gone completely. For years, her husband had come to Sekot. She had watched him age, while her own life force was tied utterly to the Forest. Eventually, he had stopped coming though- and while she knew that he had died, and that as time passed, so too had her children and friends- she never knew what precisely happened to them.

Chances were good that, short of going to Naboo itself, she wouldn't ever find out those things.

But there were the broad strokes she was missing. The galaxy was changed, in subtle but fundamental ways. Planets that had been gone, or broken, fit back in to the weft and warp of the Force again. And others that should have been there were gone or shattered. Oddly, the later was less confusing to the Jedi Master than the former was. Historically, there were always new ways discovered to destroy. But new ways to create, especially something like a planet, now, that was a greater challenge.

She had considered going to Ithor, and probably still would. But no one there would remember her, and they were wary of outsiders. So, instead, she had come here. Not far from Korriban, where her journey had first taken her.

Moving through the archives, she smiled slightly. Her fingers strayed just over the spines of a series of holobooks. She didn't have the love of reading for the simple pleasure of it that her master once had. But as someone who came to the written word late in life, she appreciated the very act itself.

Clad in a dove grey tunic and darker grey leggings, the petite woman didn't look immediately like a typical Jedi. Her long, dark hair was unbound down her back. Emerald eyes flickered around, trying to find someone, anyone, to help her. It was not long after the archives opened, and it seemed as though it was too early for most of the staff.

"Excuse me?"

She back tracked a step or two as she caught sight of the desk and the man hunched behind it.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said, her voice soft as she switched directions and walked toward him.

"But I'm looking for some information, and, as embarrassing as it sounds, I don't really know where to start."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

He was still trying to fathom what kind of mad man had run this archive prior to his arrival. Hal could have only assumed that the previous archivist was wheeled away from crimes against organisation. Not that this kind of mess was an anomaly in archives away from the larger civilisation. A small population was still no excuse for such disorganization however.

Through the low hum of his work station a voice broke through, or more like tip-toed through. Causing a small scrunching of a brow that was already marked by excessive frowning.

Slowly, Hal tilted his head up, eyes studying the source of the voice. For a moment he just sat, still, staring at the small woman pondering a response to the entirely open question. He had never been a soft soul with the idea that ‘no question was stupid’. She was in an archive, the information held within could seem limitless to a single ordinary person. This would have to be narrowed down somewhat.

“What information do you require?” Hal responded bluntly, the man’s voice being about as friendly as his stony expression.

Then again, perhaps the disorganised chaos was to blame for her confusion and in that case, the woman could not be blamed. The archivist really had to account for that before writing her off as a simpleton.

Amendment.

“We are in the process of reorganising the materials, I apologise if they have been difficult to find,” Terrano added, like a droid that had been design with a stick shoved up its rectal port. He would never be the poster boy for the cosy, friendly local librarian, you know, the one with all of the cats.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany wasn't entirely certain what to make of him. In fairness, she'd interacted with a very, very short list of people in the last several centuries. And none of them were quite like [member="Hal Terrano"].

She cleared her throat, glancing about for a moment.

"There was a Jedi Temple a long time ago. On Naboo. So far as I know, it was the only one ever located there. I'm looking for information about what happened to it."

She couldn't bring herself to stay explicitly how did it fall? She also didn't attempt an elaborate lie- while it would have been easy to make up some reason she was interested- school, research, whatever- it ultimately didn't matter. He might ask, he might not. But Bethany wasn't particularly prone to lies, and she'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

"I tried to search for it in the automated system.... but the section it led me to is full of cookbooks?"

 

[Hal Terrano]

Jedi. Of course she would be asking about the Jedi.

Little did the woman know that she didn’t in fact need the archives at this point in time, all she needed was the font of knowledge contained within Terrano’s brain. After all, as a former-Jedi who lived life steeped in the realm of history there was very little that he did not know on that subject. However, since his past was a repressed topic and borrowing people’s brains was largely frowned upon in polite society it was a matter for the official channels.

Hal might have frowned, if he were not already doing so. Whether it was the topic at hand, or the absolutely atrocious organisation of the library it was hard to say, likely both, although at this point that was probably just his resting face.

“I see,” the archivist said in perfect monotone before getting up from his chair, probably for the best as the dust was likely beginning to settle, “I apologise again for this inconvenience. I shall direct you to the correct section.”

It was really riveting conversation, as one would expect from a man with such reknowned interpersonal skills.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany waited patiently as he got up from behind the desk.

"No apologies necessary," she assured him, offering a soft smile. "If you can help me find the information I'm looking for, I would appreciate it very much."

She fell in to step behind the archivist. Never much of a casual talker herself, the two moved in silence for a few minutes as they wove through the library. When she did speak up, it was after careful consideration of how she would clarify exactly what information she needed.

"There are historical Jedi of a certain era I'm interested in knowing about, besides the temple in general," she said finally, her tone careful and precise. "If there is any information about them, that would be wonderful."

What was she doing to herself? She blinked suddenly, wondering if this really was a good idea. Probably not, in truth. What good would it do, knowing? She was silent, her face clearly thoughtful.

Knowing how they had died?

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Naturally Hal had made sure to familiarise himself with all the wrong locations of every text, it seemed like a pointless exercise given that the man was going to reorganise everything from top to bottom. However it whittled away the time and it kept his memory well trained, so perhaps it wasn’t entirely pointless.

A discomfort emanated from his very being as Hal lead the woman to the correct section. The Jedi, it was his past. For over thirty years his life had been almost nothing but. His life defined by the Code, a Jedi by the purest definition (although perhaps not the correct one). It was a point of pride and shame and stirred that rare emotion within his chest which Sith Poison feasted so happily upon.

Stiff lower jaw jutted forth, clenched for a moment as more thoughts were swallowed down. At least suppression was his specialty.

Teaspoon of honey…

“What period?” Hal almost barked, staring straight forward at the shelves, refusing to shift his gaze off of the inanimate.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany blinked slightly at the abruptness.

"Um. I mean. I don't know if it has a name? The era I mean? Um. Would names help?"

​After all, she'd lived it. They didn't name eras in the moment. That only came later.

"Spark Vallen, Tantor Aden, Darron Wraith, Aslyn Denethorn....." She rattled off a dozen names of Jedi Masters who had been well known in her time. It was like a 'who's who' of Jedi from a forty or so year span. "C-Corringath Ventraas....." Her voice caught slightly but she plowed on. "Rian and Corrine Kismet."

She paused, drawing in a long, deep breath. It didn't occur to her to slip her own name in there. It was only truly noteworthy by its absence. Especially considering the inclusion of her children, one of whom had quit the order long before reaching the rank of Master.

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

“Yes,” he immediately replied, quite annoyed that it took him until the fourth name until he recognised the period of time in question. Grey eyes beginning to show the speckles of a deep blue quickly scanned along the shelf to find the correct volumes, there would be several, but likely not at all next to each other.

“Interesting period, I would say the one most similar to our own. Constant war and turmoil. No great period of peace.”

Jedi that flaunted the Code.

Those who would strut, hither and yon, brandishing aggression and lust with reckless abandon. Jedi in the loosest sense of the term, who would be prone to fall as quickly as they rose. Even thinking about it made the bile rise in the archivist’s throat. An audible exhale erupted from his nostrils, an exhalation of exasperation.

As if Hal Terrano could talk about being a poor excuse for a Jedi.

He kept going along each shelf plucking the corner of volumes from their incorrect place, and leaving them sticking out slightly for the woman to take at fancy.

Brow furrowed, this time in a different shade of frustration.

“I cannot seem to locate any texts regarding Naboo during this period,” Hal spoke, confident that he had checked this entire shelf, “it could be anywhere, or not here at all.”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"Interesting is not the word I would use," she said, so softly it would be difficult to hear- in any place other than a completely silent library.

Two similar periods. That would explain why she had been called back. She knew the specifics of the events that had led to it of course- but it they hadn't been isolated incidents- her heart sank, just a little, but whether it was from that, or the news that he didn't have the resources she needed wasn't clear.

"Constant war, so much destruction," she murmured, her eyes a little distant. It wasn't the tone of someone speaking about a far distant period of history. It was more.... personal. And then-

"Do you know much about that period?" She asked, her tone turning slightly more hopeful.

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Were it a different time and were he a different man, Hal might have taken the diminutive woman up on a discussion about the matter. He didn’t approve of constant war and so much destruction of course, but when looking at the past, in full knowledge that you could not possibly change it, there was nothing to have but interest.

Learning from the mistakes of the past was an entirely different matter. Failure across eons.

“Yes,” came another abrupt response.

Perhaps it was not entirely wise to invite further conversation about the Jedi. It disrupted the man’s usually stoic nature and brought both memories and emotions forth that were frankly far from welcome here. Hurt. Shame. Pain. Honey. Coward. However, Hal sincerely doubted that this woman would be asking any questions that would pertain to him specifically, especially given the incredibly vast gap in time, not to mention the archivist had always been a little too prideful in his knowledge.

“What do you specifically require to know?”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

She had wanted to know so much more than she could possibly ask him, she realized with a flicker of despair.

What had happened to the temple? How long ago had it happened? When (and how) had each of her friends passed on, joining the Force? Was there ever a period of peace in their lifetime? She knew that her daughter, Corrine, had fallen to the darkness and left the order- but had she ever seen through the black? What of her grandchildren, the children of Rian? Was there any way to discover if she had living descendants? And what of Corringath?

Gone gone gone.

None of it mattered. It was ancient history to everyone alive now. How many of those details had been lost to time?

The question she ended up asking was strange. Not in general, but because of the level of detail she had already exhibited when it came to the specifics of those living in that period. Surely, someone who knew those things, would already know the answer to this question, yes?

She breathed in deeply, steeling herself.

"When and how did the temple on Naboo fall?"

​[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Ask for a specific question, get a specific question.

It wasn't an answer that came spontaneously, it required a few moments of recollection. After all, when one possess such a great volume of information within their head, it sometimes takes a moment or two to actually retrieve it. It was a separate little archive within the archivist's head. Slightly better organised, however.

“It did not fall,” Hal started, pausing with a mild furrowing of the brow, “depending upon your definition.”

It always seemed more tragic than that.

“The temple was abandoned,” the archivist continued rather plainly, “it did not fall to war, but rather to disuse. I do not know the exact reason, but people stopped going. A few stayed behind to tend to the temple but in time they passed and it was simply forgotten about.”

There was something infinitely more tragic about being forgotten, much worse than being destroyed. Hon-

“I have been there. It is ruins now.”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

The diminutive woman leaned ever so slightly against the nearest pillar. Perhaps she was resting, perhaps bored. Without looking at her face, either seemed likely.

But the slow close of verdant eyes, the tightening of her mouth, the way her breath caught and held- each new detail layered with each new phrase he spoke- they were easy to miss.

There were so many answers Bethany had steeled herself for. Over run by the Sith. Destroyed by the new war machine of the Yuuzhang Vong. Torn apart by civil war. The possibilities seemed finite, and it had been easy to prepare herself for all of those potential replies. But instead, different words echoed in her head.

It did not fall to war, but rather, to disuse.

"How-"

​She stopped, surprised to find the word catch in her throat. She coughed slightly, and tried again.

"How long after.... the era of those previously mentioned..... did the decline begin?"

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Head turned to actually observe the woman as the word 'how' slipped out. Mostly out of a small annoyance more than anything. How? Another crinkle of the brow. Hal had clearly stated that he did not know the exact reason. Asking him beyond that point was an utter futility and a waste of his time.

Perhaps mercifully, Hal managed not to scold her, likely because it was a sentence that struggled to start, rather than single, stupid question.

Still, this woman prodded. Her strong interest in this very temple, from a very specific time started to pique his own. Curiosity always tagged along when one had a thirst for knowledge. Perhaps just an enthusiast, or writing a paper for a course in Jedi History. Now, now Terrano actively studied the woman, those grey eyes with now fading specks of indigo scanning her with some degree of interest.

The way the words left her. Peculiar. Was she having trouble breathing? Perhaps the archivist needed to dust.

“I cannot recall specific dates without the source material but as an estimate, I would say around seventy years after the death of Master Corringath Ventrass.”

It was one of the names that she had listed prior, if the woman was aware of his existence then it would have given her an idea of the rough timeline.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany closed her eyes slowly. Maybe, if she kept them closed for long enough, something would change.

Anything would change.

But when she opened her eyes again, she was still staring at the peculiar expression on [member="Hal Terrano"]'s face, and a line of shelves filled with books that held neither answers nor absolution. She felt a little dizzy. It took her a moment to realize that was because she had forgotten to breath.

Knowing, logically, that he was dead- of course she knew that. Even after she had joined with Sekot, he had come for many years after that. Telling her about their children, about the Order. She had watched him grow older. The visits had eventually become fewer, farther between. There was a gap of almost a hundred years before she realized that he wasn't coming back again. Time moved strangely, both more and less important, on Zonama Sekot. It had been difficult to feel sadness beyond the barest hints then. Death was part of the rhythm of the forest. Every insect that had passed echoed through Sekot and into Beth. She had grow distant and desensitized to such things, so it the realization had not been significantly more than that.

She had assumed, wrongly, that she would carry that distance with her, even as she moved out across the galaxy and away from the Forest. Perhaps it was living in a body once more of flesh and blood. Perhaps it was being separate again, no longer part of one living, breathing whole.

But the weight of the emotions that came crashing down on her by the simple words

the death of Master Corringath Ventraas.

was suffocating.

She opened her mouth, though to say what she didn't know. Then closed it again. It took another try before she finally managed a faint-

"I'm sorry. I.... need a moment."

 

[Hal Terrano]

It wasn't quite the reaction that Hal was expecting. Although, completely lacking any and all imagination meant that he never really had the mind to expect anything specific. He just stood there, like some big lump, watching the woman have a small moment to herself.

Well, it was a moment or potential narcolepsy. She hadn't fallen over yet, so it was probably the former.

When she finally spoke again...well, it was to tell the man that she needed another moment. Altogether Hal found it quite perplexing, I mean, both people and buildings both didn't stand to the test of time very well. It couldn't have been a surprise about either eventualities, could it? No. A woman that stupid wouldn't know how to spell library never mind step foot in one.

“Are you okay, ma'am?” Hal inquired in a tone that was horrifically robotic.

It was evident at this point that Hal did not know what to do, much like a teenage girl confronted by a medium-sized spider. What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry for your loss' regarding a man and a building that had both perished so many centuries before? No, that would have been ridiculous.

Comforting was hardly his forte.

“You should...go there..” the archivist started, his composure failing as his words deviated from the regular path of business, “...the temple ruins. It is...nice.”

Better descriptors required.

“Peaceful. Good to meditate.”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

“You should...go there..” the archivist started, his composure failing as his words deviated from the regular path of business, “...the temple ruins. It is...nice. Peaceful. Good to meditate.”

"They always were."

The words were spoken aloud without any conscious thought, barely noticed by the woman speaking them. Slowly, Bethany pushed away from the pillar. Breathing in deeply, she reached out to the Force, allowing that connection to help center herself.

None of this was news. None of it. So why did it hurt so badly to hear it? Because despite what anyone would say, words had power. The power to hurt and the power to heal, as surely as any actions did. It was rare for simple words, pure truth, especially, to offer such a potent wounding.

What had she been expecting to find here? Exactly this. Somehow, she thought she'd be more insulated from it.

"I'm fine. Thank you, sir. Even if you didn't have the books I was hoping for, you've answered my questions." Her tone was careful, even and polite, and she offered him a ghost of a smile. All in truth that she could muster.

By the Force, she needed a cup of tea.

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Hal nodded, he wasn't lying to try and make the woman feel better, he had genuinely been to those ruins and Terrano had found his meditations there to be rather pleasant, soothing even. It was very reminiscent of Avalore in the greenho-

It seemed like his job was done. He might not have been rated on the holonet very highly for his interpersonal skills but the archivist was at least both prompt and knowledgable. Perhaps slightly too prompt, well, at least in the opinion of teenage girls that had gathered there for something more than to further their knowledge.

Thankfully he was oblivious to that purpose.

As he began to push the previously selected texts back into their (wrong) place upon the shelves there was a stirring within his mind, as if he had forgotten about his porridge still upon the burning hob (he never would). He froze for a moment.

They always were.

Hal had chalked it up as a grammatically incoherent sentence, forgoing correcting the woman due to her more upset nature in a rare moment of Terrano sensitivity. Then again, this was a woman upset about fairly ordinary things that had happened far too long ago to be emotionally invested in.

Teaspoon of honey.

“Wait,” Hal suddenly called out, turning upon his heel and marching towards the woman before she could actually leave. He didn't have a real follow-up sentence, or a real clue to who she actually was, but there was something.

It was familiar. His mind had drifted towards Avalore several times during the space of their short conversation and it was more than just strange, especially considering he managed to keep her at bay most of the time these days. There was a link. The temple ruins upon Naboo, he had enjoyed and specifically remembered his time there because it reminded him of Avalore tending to the Cato Neimoidia greenhouse.

So did she.

“Would you...like...to have a seat?” Terrano asked awkwardly, “In...the break room. We have...tea...and porridge.”

He had so many questions.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Wait.

Bethany paused, turning back slightly at his call.

"Tea," she replied after only the briefest hesitation, "would be lovely. Yes, thank you."

It seemed that for the moment at least, silence was their companion as [member="Hal Terrano"] led the way. Perhaps if the archives had not been empty, Beth would have declined the offer. But in this moment at least, the concept of being able to sit with her thoughts and a warm cup of tea between her hands was as far forward as she could look.

The break room was small and cramped, but the table was clear and the chairs were sturdy. Normally, she would have offered to help, but it was immediately clear that there was only room for one person to move around comfortably- unless those two people were very familiar with each other. The petite woman settled into one of the chairs, glancing around for a moment before-

"My name is Beth," she offered. "Thank you again for your help..... and your hospitality."