KeiransFuturismFantasy

The Force Wills - Chapter 57

The Xanadu dropped out of hyperspace at a decidedly unconventional spot, over three hundred thousand kilometers z-negative of Nal Hutta itself.

Its form shimmered briefly briefly in the void before vanishing.

I checked the cloaking system briefly, getting only green status lights from the diagnostic. ‘We’re good to go, master,’ I thought to Anakin. ‘We didn’t even get pinged by their traffic control grid.’

‘Seems like it was worth spending all that extra computer time on the calculations then. I doubt that many sensors are even pointed in this direction.’

It took us barely over four minutes of travel, even at the relatively slow acceleration of 1800G that would keep the cloak intact, to cross the distance into a high orbit of Nal Hutta, then another minute to adjust that orbit for an intercept of Nar Shaddaa.

Next was entry into the atmosphere. Just barreling straight into the atmosphere for a least time entry and aerobraking would not only compromise the cloak but also light up even the oldest and most primitive sensors that were pointed at the sky. Anakin therefore had to carefully flip the Xanadu and begin matching Nar Shaddaa’s orbital velocity around its parent planet and carefully slow it down so that we essentially ‘slipped’ into the atmosphere as Nar Shaddaa itself caught up with us.

The maneuver was not complicated for a skilled pilot and we were essentially treating the moon as if it was something to dock with in space, it just so happened to also have an atmosphere. Most ships didn’t bother with atmospheric slipping because it was slower and used more fuel, a problem that was compounded as the mass of the ship went up. If you didn’t care about those things, then it wasn’t a problem.

The moon now dominated our rear view, growing ever closer.

It really was an ugly thing. A light mud brown from space and even the few clouds that were visible had a brown tinge to them. It really did look like it’s more derisive name; Little Slugland.

It was an ecumenopolis and the reason for its brown appearance was simply due to pollution from power plants and the venting of their excess heat. I was very grateful that M8 came standard with a filter for such environments, I was even tempted to go for a full vacuum rated seal and use my onboard oxygen supply only. Besides the obvious problem that our stay here would probably be longer than the supply lasted, there was no telling what problems we would encounter on the smuggler’s moon and using the oxygen so frivolously wasn’t wise.

The Xanadu slipped into the upper atmosphere and the stratospheric winds began buffeting the ship. Anakin smoothly corrected for deviations and turned towards our identified landing coordinates.

Already I could see the tallest spires of Nar Shaddaa, some reaching three kilometers in height spearing through the air towards us. The small dots and lights that represented speeders, shuttles and transports of every description, snaking through the barely organized air lanes that weaved around the buildings of the surface level of the moon.

Our approach just happened to be on the ‘night’ side of the moon’s dance around Nal Hutta, which was further complicated by the fact that it was tidally locked to it - one side always faced the planet, whilst the other faced open space.

Already I could begin to see the surface differences between this moon and Coruscant - the holo signs and physical signs mounted on the buildings were mostly in Huttese, which in written form to my eyes looked like someone who had vomited up some spaghetti. Only occasionally were these signs supplemented with Basic translations flashing underneath. The images in these were also more fitting of the Hutt version of Coruscant - obviously featuring a lot of hutts drawn in stylized manner, but there was quite a lot of twi’lek eye candy on display as well.

In one extreme example the Xanadu stealthily flew past a gigantic blue holo-twi’lek who was mostly nude and constantly threw flirting looks and blew kisses at passing shuttles and ships, whilst the name of some establishment in huttese floated above her head.

Yeah, you wouldn’t see that on Coruscant, unless you went to the much lower levels and even then it would not be so blatant or overt.

That was a good description for ‘Narsh’ - as it was called in short form slang by its residents; blatant, vulgar, over-the-top in everything and was a reflection of the species that dominated it.

‘Approaching drop point, Snips,’ Anakin’s voice in my head pulled me out of my woolgathering, though I could sense a slight amusement that my eye had been caught by the giant twi’lek holo.

‘I saw you looking too, Skyguy,’ I poked him on the pauldron of his armor.

He only shrugged as if to say, he couldn’t help it, he was a guy. He flicked a couple of switches and looked into the twitching mechanical eye stalk of Xanadu’s integrated droid intelligence. “Okay, Xanadu, you know what to do.”

“Affirmative, Master. Be careful.”

“You too.”

We got out of our respective pilot seats and headed into the back to make the final touches and inspections of our armor.

M8 reported that all systems were green and functioning nominally as I holstered both my WESTAR blasters on my hips and hid the Darksaber in a specially designed smuggling compartment on the back of my utility belt, which was disguised to look like a cylindrical auxiliary life support unit for the armor. That was not the only change, as we had both removed the military camo, Republic, and Jedi insignias from our Aegis armors.

A repaint now had us looking like two very well armed, red and green armored bounty hunters or mercenaries.

Anakin had picked up a pair of blasters of his own after we had made a quick stop at Randon.

When he chose two DL-44 heavy blaster pistols, I had to bite my lips to keep from outright giggling in disbelief. Thankfully Anakin hadn’t enquired too deeply on my reaction, writing it off as yet another typical ‘Ahsoka quirk’.

Even now as he fiddled with the holsters on his legs and checked the extra power cells, I had to make sure to bury my amusement into the deepest corners of my mind.

I threaded my montrals and lekku into my helmet and secured it. The HUD activated and began augmenting my vision as it also paired a datalink with Anakin’s Aegis.

“One minute to drop point,” announced Xanadu in my HUD

Anakin stepped up to the meditation bench and after fiddling with a hidden control panel, it blossomed open to reveal the second means of getting out of the Xanadu. The normal entrance-exit to the craft had been shifted to a hatch in the ceiling of the interior passenger space. In this way almost reminding me of the future TIE fighter’s method of entry and egress.

This hidden exit allowed for what we were going to do next.

“Pressure equalized, you may open the hatch, master.”

Anakin reached down and twisted the manual release.

An inner hatch door irised open with a hiss of metal on metal, before another section of the door unlatched and split open, before the hidden ventral exterior hatch of the Xanadu opened.

I was glad I couldn’t hear the deafening noise of the rushing air that penetrated into the cabin.

“Three… two… one…”

Anakin led the way, simply threading his legs down into the hatch and let gravity do the rest.

I mirrored his method and was soon falling 2400 meters above the surface of Nar Shaddaa.

I tumbled a bit, but smoothly corrected by moving my limbs as control surfaces to bring me to a classic belly to earth skydive position.

M8 helpfully highlighted Anakin’s freefall position for me in the HUD and I steered myself to catch up, briefly diving head first to gain some more speed before flaring my arms and legs to slow down again.

The adrenal rush of a skydive hit me and it was awesome.

I wish I could do it more and at the same time knew that I shouldn’t, otherwise it would become normalized. It would lose the sense of thrill and danger that it had.

Some twenty odd seconds later we began reaching out to the Force, beginning to bleed off our speed and slow down.

Five seconds later we were slow enough, and with the uppermost buildings of Nar Shaddaa looming large in our vision, we brought our legs down and engaged the flight systems of our Aegis armors.

Boot jets flared with thrust and with a bit of rapid leg positioning, we were stabilized and hovering.

M8 displayed the direction for the rendezvous point for our local contact and we both angled, then shot off in that direction.

A few minutes of flight later we descended and came to a soft landing a few streets away in the most unpopulated bit of alley we could find.

Of course, that still meant we suddenly surprised a number of drugged up denizens of many species, who were seated and leaning against the walls; either zoned out in la-la land or rocking back and forth, stoned out of their minds.

Most just took one look at us and decided it would be more conducive to live another day of drug fueled haze if they didn’t bother the dangerous looking bounty hunters that just dropped out of the sky.

The law of averages indicated that there had to be one really stupid one among the bunch though.

A cathar got up with an angry hiss, on two very unstable legs, “Hey! Can’t you ssseee… th… that we’re… we’re… this is our alley!”

Anakin shook his head with incredulity, took a single step forward and simply pushed the cathar on his furry forehead with two fingers.

The cathar simply collapsed backward into his own spot of the alley with his drugged out slitted eyes wide and open. “That’s… that’s not fair… how did you move so fast?”

We didn’t have time for this and turned on our heel to exit the alley and merge with the ever shifting flow of pedestrians moving on the surface floor of Narsha.

The cauldron of sentience that had been created on this moon was quite something to experience.

Ganks, humans, skittering four legged colicoids, trandoshans, twi’leks and even massive t’landa Til walked the streets with no problems and just went about their day. In the latter case, most people had to make room, as they were 2.5 meters tall, had four trunk-like legs with massive padded feet, a tiny pair of forward facing arms and a very sharp horn mounted on their foreheads. It was very unsettling seeing them, as their rapacious snouts and mouths featured nasty looking teeth and permanent sinister grins. They were a species related to the hutts, who had diverged at some point in the distant past.

I made sure to keep my outward mask and the body language of a hardened Mandalorian bounty hunter. That I had no problems walking here, I knew exactly where I was going and that I belonged here. That combined with our physical outward appearance was just as good as invisibility and we could spare ourselves the use of Force Perception for later, when it truly mattered.

It wasn’t long until our destination came into view.

Fidax’s Fine Entertainment

Well, that’s what it translated to in Basic anyway. In Huttese, there were some connotations to the translation of ‘fine’ that gave me a suspicion that the place we were going to walk into was going to be… problematic. The sign outside with a huge holo twi’lek dancer was another big clue.

Nevertheless, we both walked into the establishment with not a moment’s hesitation.

Once inside M8 immediately indicated that the music was… horrible and didn’t feel that she should subject her mistress to even a description. I could feel the deep bass, a repetitive thrum through my lungs.

The club beyond was bathed in a purple light to my eyes, including holo-lasers that flashed in various visible spectra that I knew would be invisible to quite a few species. Togruta eyes tended to lean slightly differently in the light spectrum, letting certain ultraviolet frequencies be visible. Even for my eyes there was holo action going on that M8 needed to adjust my HUD to see.

I didn’t need that to see what this place truly was though.

Dozens of rounded booths, surrounding tables where various people were eating, drinking, and visually appreciating the efforts of twi’lek erotic dancers and strippers, who were expertly dancing on a platform and pole that hovered above the table.

All booths looked towards a large stage that was currently empty at the moment. Each dancer could get on that stage and there would still be room for more. I could well imagine that this place could hold a performance that would be right at home on the Vegas Strip.

“Kava can jee-jee hopa? How can we help?”

Our interlocutor was a green skinned twi’lek male, dressed quite professionally in a style that could see him not looking out of place as concierge on Hosnian Prime or even Corellia. A pressed, handsomely cut suit of blacks, grays with a foundation of white. The overall design, if I could give it a description, was neo-sci fi minimalist.

“We’re here to see Ipp Draasa,” Anakin said, the vocabulator in his helmet did a very good job of giving his voice a sinister yet not entirely threatening edge. He also did a good job of adopting his own ‘bounty hunter’ style mask for his body language; relaxed yet coiled to spring into action, his right hand hooked on his belt and ready to draw blaster.

“Of course, one moment.” He consulted a datapad briefly. “Yes, Mr Draasa is at booth eight, over there. He did indicate he was expecting to meet two people for an appointment, so you may proceed. Fidax’s Fine Entertaiment hopes you will have a pleasant stay and if you engage in any hostilities you may find a swift death. Good day.”

We didn’t bother acknowledging the concierge and walked straight in the direction of the indicated booth.

We found Ipp Draasa sitting back, enjoying a drink and simply staring at the blue twi’lek who was dancing above his table. The trandoshan didn’t acknowledge us at first, taking the time to flick a credit chit at the female, who rather impressively caught it as she was doing a pirouette move on the dancing pole and in a further display of skill, lost the last small bit of silky transparent clothing she had around her generous hips and continued dancing.

“Ah, my friends, have a seat? Do you want a Pink Nebula on me?” Draasa lazily gestured to the drink he was nursing.

We sat down and Anakin shook his head, “Prefer a Revnog rather. It agrees with me more.”

Draasa waved over a twi’lek waitress, who’s outfit seemed more like the suggestion of one, it covered the important bits, but the red material was just transparent enough to give a tantalizing hint of what was underneath.

“And your partner?”

“She’d prefer a Bantha Blaster,” Anakin answered for me.

The waitress took the orders and practically glided away. I didn’t realize until that moment that you could make such an ordinary thing as walking look so downright seductive and sexy. Sure, sway the hips, feet positioning, but that waitress took it to another level.

Draasa pulled out a small datapad casually, tapped it a few times as if he was just referencing something then put it back into his pocket.

‘Anti-eavesdrop field detected, white noise detected, origin, a device in Ipp Draasa’s left jacket pocket,’ M8 announced in my HUD.

“Now we can talk slightly more securely, it’s not perfect, so let’s still remain nice and vague, my friends,” Draasa cautioned.

“Do you have a location?”

“Yes, I do. Our mutual friend has taken to recently spending all his time on the Promenade, more specifically, Szog’s Casino.”

Of course Ziro was there. It was the most affluent bit of floating real estate on the entire moon. Just under a hectare of contiguous buildings, a central square filled with exclusive shops and restaurants, walkways, hallways and speeder docking stations. From a certain point of view, it could actually be called a ship, only this one just floated permanently a few hundred meters above the uppermost level of Narsh, a stone’s throw from the space port. It could also be the most secure part of the planet at a single word from any of the major hutt players on the moon.

“How long has this been?”

“Going for three weeks now, he even sleeps there. However, I think that his presence there is just a gilded cage. Our friend’s crime cannot be forgiven by Jabba. A hutt’s offspring is one of the few things they value more than power or wealth. If it was up to Jabba alone he’d have…” Draasa mimed the slitting of a throat with his fingers. “Everyone knows that Ziro is only alive because he has an insurance policy sitting somewhere in the galaxy, waiting. The Hutt Council is spending a lot of gullible bodies and money to find it.”

“Have they gotten anywhere close to finding it?”

“No, Ziro has been quite clever in this case. The best and most cunning bounty hunters and slicers have traced every move that slug has made for the last few decades and found only dust and echoes.”

“What’s your opinion on just what this ‘insurance’ is?”

Draasa hissed and the informant shrugged his shoulders, “Nothing specific but definitely is enough dirt and secrets that those old hutts never want it to see the light of day. The Council paid a fortune for ol’ Bane to spring Ziro from prison on Coruscant. Ever since, he’s been moved from gilded cage to cage all over hutt space. At this point it’s a very long game of deadly dejarik between him and the Hutt Council.”

The waitress returned with our drinks at this point. She put them down, in the process producing bouncy cleavage that I couldn’t help but look at, then push down a stupid surge of envy.

I opened the induction port on my helmet and threaded the straw in there. I didn’t drink, but M8 had a mechanism that would siphon it, simulating that I was indeed imbibing the fluid. Anakin had no such issues, easily downing a few sips of his Revnog from a thick straw through a similar port in his helmet.

“Do you have what we need?” Anakin asked, getting down to business.

Draasa didn’t answer at first, but I felt his clawed foot pushing something that bumped against Anakin’s leg.

“Inside the case, you’ll find a data chit. Full schematics for the Promenade, as up to date as they can be. As for what sensors you’ll be up against, can’t be of much help. They change those often and shuffle them around like a deck of pazaak cards. Also details for a credit account you’ll need.”

Anakin carefully slid the small case to lay next to him on the seat, yet still out of general view. With his right hand and a dexterity that would impress an old school magician, he had it open and slid the chit into a specially waiting port on his utility belt. In the next moment, the case was closed and back on the floor, being pushed back to Draasa.

‘Scanning, it’s clean,’ Anakin thought to me. ‘Pushing a copy to you.’

M8 accepted the data handshake from Anakin’s armor and began a download, shunting it into a protected and isolated partition of the armor’s data storage.

I didn’t bother looking at it now, as my own senses were spread out over the entire establishment, searching for possible threats.

I had to consciously stop sensing the emotions of everyone in the place, lest it force me to hurriedly look for a cold shower.

“Thank you, one moment… Your payment should now reflect in your designated account,” Anakin said.

Draasa pulled out yet another datapad from his jacket, and quickly put it back. “So it has, pleasure doing business. Now tell me, how is old Tera doing?”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Anakin retorted mildly.

“Info security in that wonderful place you live in on Coruscant, is tighter than a hutt holding it in these days. The slicers you guys got holed up in there, are no joke. I tried once in the beginning of the war, but ended up replacing a fortune of equipment after I got reverse-spiked.”

Anakin chuckled, “I’ll be sure to pass the complement along. As to your question, Tera is as healthy as you can be at that age.”

“I remember a time when he didn’t even need to use that cane, only kept it as a disguise for his… you know.”

My Prescience pinged on a probability line at this point… Someone was coming for Draasa, they would be here in less than ten minutes… I saw a scuffle breaking out, then devolving into a full on gunfight that would kill nearly a dozen people, including a number of dancers and employees. Most of those kills were as a result of collateral damage after the club’s own automated defenses dropped out of the ceiling. I didn’t know if it had anything to do with our reason for being on Nar Shaddaa, if it was a Ziro loyalist or some other hutt…

I looked up and sure enough spotted the cunningly disguised seams of where those turrets would pop out.

I sent my thoughts and foresight across to Anakin in a quick burst to save time.

In response he downed the last of his drink and we both stood, “Well, we have to be going. Thank you for the chat. Tera sends his regards and he suggests you try some Novonian Grog.”

Draasa outwardly didn’t respond at all, but I felt he was alarmed and his alien thoughts were racing as he casually looked around the place. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

Anakin led the way out of the booth and we both walked casually towards the exit and made it outside into the throngs of the busy street outside.

‘Think he’ll listen, Skyguy?’ I thought as we headed towards our next meeting.

‘Well, we used the right code words and phrasing, he knows enough about Jedi to take it seriously.’

‘I just hope we haven’t ended up costing Master Sinube his info broker on Nar Shaddaa.’

‘So do I, he seems a capable sort. I don’t think whatever trouble he’s in is something that should concern us for the moment. Now, where’s your contact, Snips?’

I did a quick consult of the local maps with M8, before sending the coordinates to him.

‘Here, five clicks, south-south east, we can walk or hire a speeder.’

‘We’re going to need one to reach the Promenade anyway, so might as well do it now.’

88888888888888888888888888

The closest speeder rental business was a few hundred meters north-east according to the local maps and databases. It would’ve been nice to just use boot jets to fly there, but we wanted to conserve their use as much as possible. They didn’t have fuel to the point where we could use them for all our travel needs, despite being extremely efficient and powerful for their size. It would also attract unnecessary attention to us.

We ended up having to walk quite a roundabout route, because of the crazy way the streets and the various levels were built. Unlike Coruscant’s orderly upper levels, Nar Shaddaa was built layer upon layer in quite a chaotic fashion. The urban landscape was kept at a barely functional level and quite a bit of it was stained with the rot of decay and pollution.

It took us nearly fifty minutes to make it to the speeder rental as a result.

It was run by a shifty looking colicoid, who wore only a shirt and harness across his insectoid-like thorax. He was escorted everywhere he went by a pair of cybernetic ganks - a short humanoid type species that were covered from head to toe in battle armor that was grafted directly onto their organic bodies. Their oddly shaped near cylindrical heads with a single red eye sensor was rather unnerving to look at. These two were only armed with rustic blaster pistols, but thinking them incapable was a mistake.

HK-47 found a lot to admire in the simplicity of the ganks - as they delighted in finding opportunities for violent mayhem and massacring whoever their hutt masters pointed them at.

Anakin quickly managed to negotiate the hire of a two seater speeder that at least didn’t look like it would fall apart and cause us to plunge to our doom in Nar Shaddaa’s deeper levels. It reminded me of an old BMW Z3, except it could fly and had a body made of plasteel colored in a light gray.

After handing over a deposit of credits and the hire fee, we climbed in and Anakin started it up.

The onboard engine and systems responded well, at least from what I could feel through the seat and M8 reported that the sound was ‘dreadful but strong’.

I felt a bit better about it as Anakin pulled on the yoke and throttle to send us into the air, where we slid into an air lane in the direction of our contact.

It was a surface level apartment building, which on Nar Shaddaa meant that the tenants in it were not without some level of wealth. It also meant that this was a place for either mid-tier criminals bosses in the Hutt cartel, those who owned a business or even some off-worlder who wanted to make a risky real estate investment. How potentially competing crime bosses could live in the same place and could even be potentially neighbors was something of a revelation to me. It was either some form of unwritten rules going on or the fact that the hutts didn’t want their criminal organizations imploding from overt infighting.

We landed on an open parking spot on the roof of the building and one look at the other speeders also spoke of the wealth of the tenants below. It was also in generally good shape considering most of the moon embodied the concept of urban decay, though the stains and overall pollution in the air meant that it was an exercise in futility to attempt a steam clean of this parking lot. You’d do all that hard work and not an hour later it would be dirty again.

I hopped out of the speeder, spreading out my senses with the Force…

Good, no waiting ambush or any surprises.

We walked to the small turbolift on the corner of the roof parking lot.

‘Broadcasting access key sequence, mistress,’ M8 announced in my HUD.

Obediently the turbolift door slid open and I entered without hesitation.

Anakin followed, ‘That’s a relief,’ he thought to me.

I tapped the button for the twenty-third floor. ‘So little faith, Skyguy?’

‘It’s one thing to tell me you have a clandestine network, Snips. It’s another to see it actually working.’

‘The person we’re here to visit isn’t actually part of it, he’s just a work colleague of someone who is part of it.’

‘That’s not very reassuring, Snips.’

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. This was Nar Shaddaa, nothing was ever certain on the smuggler’s moon.

The turbolift stopped, the doors hissed open.

We stepped out into a long corridor that was lined with doors periodically on either side. It split into a T-junction direction nearly twenty meters away. The place was ‘clean’ to a certain description, there wasn’t junk lining the floor, but the walls were stamped and painted with graffiti and gang art, some of which was quite good.

I led the way and began counting the doors we passed.

There were no apartment numbers here. No one who lived in this place wanted to make it easy for anyone to readily find them. You either knew where to go or you didn’t, the latter meant you didn’t belong or have true business. Anyone who was ‘lost’ or didn’t know where to go, would swiftly find a blaster shooting their face off. It was a rather simple yet generally effective defense for the tenants.

I stopped at the eighth door on the right from the turbolift. Right next to it was an artwork of a nude human female, straddling and ‘riding’ a comically small phallic shaped starship. It somewhat reminded me of the classic pinup artwork that was painted on the noses of war planes during old Earth’s WW2.

What I was sensing through the Force though, brought me no levity.

I unholstered both my WESTARs.

‘There should only be a single human in here, master.’

Anakin pulled out his DL-44s as he also sensed it. ‘Yet there’s six people in there… two trandoshan, three ganks and a… colicoid. No human.’

‘There goes our easy, uneventful plan,’ I commented sarcastically then reached to my belt and pulled out a flashbang.

‘Snips, you sure about this?’

The answer was simple. ‘Yes, usual drill, I go left, you right.’

I placed myself against the wall to the left of the door, whilst Anakin did the same on the right side.

I reached out with the Force, evaluating the door’s mechanisms. It would’ve been nice to use the whole thing as an improvised projectile, but it was a sliding door that moved into an armored receptacle mounted in the wall. It was possible but you would tear a good chunk of the wall out with it. Going that route would also indicate the presence of a Jedi to anyone with half a brain. Instead I managed to find the small yet powerful electromechanical system that operated the door and manipulated it forcefully with TK.

The door slammed open and I chucked the activated flashbang device.

The instant I felt the slight overpressure from it, I crouch-walked into the room with my WESTARs raised and firing. Anakin followed and his blaster’s fired as well.

In less than three seconds of time, all the ganks were dead with blaster shots coring through the red optical sensors on their heads and a trandoshan had his head blown off by Anakin’s shot through the neck.

The colicoid and remaining trandoshan were still trying to blink and restore their sight when my second grouping of trigger pulls occurred.

My left shot went through the colicoid’s right eye, popping it and frying his brain, whilst my right shot hit the trandoshan on the snout, burned through the mouth and made a further steaming mess of flesh and bone.

I lowered my WESTARs as M8 unnecessarily scanned the room and declared no further lifesigns or detectable dangers.

The place had been a rather nice living room once, but had already been rearranged by the six uninvited guests beforehand.

Seated in the middle of the room, tied to a chair and bearing the signs of being extensively tortured before he had died, was my contact.

In life he’d been a light blonde haired man in his late twenties, ordinary face, slightly scruffy beard and very unmemorable. Now his face was covered with dried blood from cuts made to his scalp and judging from the discoloration around his mouth, he’d taken a suicide pill of some sort of poison. His clothes were also torn and sliced from numerous cuts from a dagger that had been wielded by one of the trandoshans.

Each one of this crew of torturers had some form of blaster and a blade that had taken part in the ‘questioning’ of my contact.

‘Just perfect,’ I thought sarcastically.

Anakin was already busy closing the door and keeping a watch for anybody else potentially attracted to the ruckus.

I could sense a number of the neighbors on the floor being very naturally alarmed by the sound of the blaster fire. Then over a period of roughly fifteen seconds, when nothing more happened or any further signs of fighting, they very rapidly grew relieved and went on with whatever they were doing as if it wasn’t their problem. Some remained paranoid and activated a number of personal security systems and armed themselves, but remained within their apartments.

‘Think we’re clear for the moment, Snips.’

I nodded and thought hard about what to do next. It would’ve been nice to have the help of the contact, but it was more what he provided that we needed. It was entirely possible that the package I had ordered was somewhere in this rather large apartment. It was not a good idea however, to go poking around willy-nilly, given what this guy worked with on a daily basis. We’d need help.

I tapped the comlink in my vambrace, getting an encrypted channel, then buzzed the specific address over the Holonet. The channel was routed through a dozen planets in the core worlds, so I wished anyone good luck in tracing it.

Then appearing in the palm of my hand, was the very familiar full body holo visage of Nack Movers.

“Ah, Fulcrum, that you’re calling me now means the news can’t be good.” The portly trandoshan hitman folded his arms and gave me a suspicious stare.

I nodded and opened a small control interface touchscreen on my vambrace and began tapping in words that M8 rendered into generic female vocal speech.

“No, your contact had unfriendly visitors.”

I adjusted the scanner of my comlink into a 360 degree mode to capture the entire scene. Then stepped close to the now deceased contact.

Movers took a few moments to take it in before shaking his head ruefully, “Shinn, Shinn, what sloppiness got you into this mess, eh?” He asked the dead body ironically. “He was a good student, but had a tendency to be occasionally forgetful of the little details. Not much of a perfectionist. Not something that makes for an entirely good Malkite assassin, but he was good enough to graduate from my training.”

“Not much of a teacher, are you then?” Anakin commented derisively.

Movers shrugged, “He survived for eight years on Nar Shaddaa after leaving me… whoever you are. That’s actually pretty good in our line of work. I figured he’d either learn, grow stronger or die.”

“Do you think we can still get what I ordered?” I typed out.

“He’ll have it prepared already, now it’s just a matter of finding it. More than likely he’s got a hidden room in this place where he does all the preparation work. Let’s take a careful walk through the place, shall we?”

Anakin was already busy setting up the room to deal with more potential assailants, using TK to move the bodies to the side and stacking the furniture to provide cover.

In the meantime I walked slowly into the small corridor that separated the various rooms of the apartment.

I found the bathroom first and was somewhat glad for the air filters on my helmet. It seems like this Shinn didn’t put much stock in keeping an entirely clean place to wash in or he was just a typical lazy bachelor. I had M8 scan it anyway just to be thorough.

Next came a kitchen, same story. There wasn’t much food preparation going on and it was just remnants from food that definitely came from a selection of restaurants and fast food.

The next door opened to what seemed to be an entire empty spare room for just drying clothes?

There was a collapsible dry rack in the center of the room and that was it.

“Yes, this is the place,” Movers commented.

M8 played her holoscanner all over the room. ‘He is correct, mistress. Structural scan indicates this room should be larger than what we are seeing. The west facing wall should be three meters further out.’

I carefully approached the seemingly innocuous steel gray wall and tried to spot anything that looked suspicious or would indicate a way into the hidden space beyond.

Naturally, my eyes found nothing and while my Farsight could also see the space, it was in complete darkness, with only a few devices inside giving off tiny amounts of light.

“So how do I open it, Movers?” I tapped into my keypad.

“I’ll be sending you a file, it has a keycode and specific frequency to transmit.”

‘Received, mistress. Scanning for threats… none detected. Should I?’ M8 asked brightly.

I nodded.

In the next moment I had to step back as the wall perfectly split down the middle and became in effect a huge door, which split and folded further. Overhead lights came on to reveal a workspace that was filled with equipment that looked like an electrician’s dream and any sane chemist’s nightmare. A desk on the left was rather haphazardly strewn with electrical tools and components, as if Shinn had been in the middle of working when he had been interrupted by the crew that had invaded his apartment. The right side of the hidden space was actually shielded and isolated by a physical transparent sheet - beyond which was beakers, sample containers, small centrifuges, even a very illegal and specialized nanodroid lathe, plus an array of specialized scanners with displays that I only half-recognized.

“There we go,” Movers pointed at a small black plasteel case that was on the worktable. “Go ahead and pick it up.”

I carefully opened myself to Prescience before doing so, examining a variety of probability lines.

Satisfied, I picked up the case, which was roughly six inches by five in size.

“You can open it. He hasn’t armed the case’s self destruct yet, it’s inert. Yes, the small latch on the side.”

Inside were two large vials, roughly a thumb width thick, one was red and the other green.

“There you go. It’s all there and ready.” I closed the case and latched it onto my belt via a handy clip built into its side. “One more thing, Fulcrum. We can’t leave this workspace intact. It’s hidden well, but there are a lot of Malkite secrets in here that could cause disaster in the wrong hands.”

“Another self-destruct?” I typed shortly.

“Correct, see the small pad mounted on the wall above the desk. Type in the following numbers, 764766. The hideout will close and disintegration charges will go off after ten seconds.”

“How do you know so much about your former pupil’s hideout? Wouldn’t he have personalized it?”

“This equipment was procured through me, Fulcrum. I naturally left backdoors and universal codes that could not be removed, at least not without rendering the hardware useless in the process. Shinn was a loyal Malkite that knew the danger of our work. We have to be able to clean up after our members when something like this happens.”

My finger tapped in the sequence and I jumped back as the folded walls began closing again.

I did not want to trust in either Movers or Shinn’s demolition work. Disintegration charges were not something used without special training and were as highly illegal as their gun counterparts in Republic space.

My feet carried me in a near sprint as I quickly typed a ‘goodbye thanks’ before cutting the comlink.

‘We need to move, master!’

Anakin had the apartment door open already and he led the way, both of us breaking into a full burst of Force Speed.

We stopped at the turbolift and looked back, just in time to nearly be blinded by a flash of extremely violet light, which M8 and Anakin’s helmet filtered and polarized. It still left us with spots in our vision and there was a brief spike in radiation.

‘I’m very tempted to let HK have a chat with Movers,’ I grumbled in annoyance as I saw the damage.

Far from just disintegrating the workshop, it had actually also taken the entire apartment.

There was now just an empty gap where there should’ve been a sixty square meter living space.

The edges of the disintegration effect were still glowing cherry red.

‘Time to go, Snips.’

‘Definitely.’

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The journey to the Promenade was two hours by speeder. Anakin put the thing on autopilot and we spent most of it doing a final review of the next stage of the plan.

At this point we’d memorized the layout of Szog’s Casino so thoroughly that we could probably recreate it by hand with a pencil and paper if we really had to.

To actually dock at one of the floating district’s speeder access points was not a come-as-you-please affair. You had to actually electronically wire credits to a specific account that was broadcasted to you at short range as you made your approach to the dock.

It was a form of access control and accountability of who was in the district. Thanks to our intel and preparation by Draasa, we already had an account prepared with the suitable credentials and funds.

‘Sending the credits now, master,’ I thought and tapped the sequences into a small dedicated ‘financial’ datapad. The thing almost reminded me of a banking app, but it was hardwired to only be able to process, manage and handle credits.

We waited patiently, hovering just about a dozen meters from the docking platform. On the semi-circular platform that jutted out of the Promenade, a half dozen very well armed ganks stood along with their boss, a pasty white skinned twi’lek male who looked a bit overweight from all the sitting he did behind the control terminal for the platform.

We’d either be accepted to land or they’d reject us and we’d have to go to Plan B.

My right hand WESTAR was already out of its holster and hidden from view by the speeder door, whilst my left hand worked the pad.

Anakin kept a weather eye through the Force on that twi’lek, ready to bring the speeder into evasive action, but kept his body language unconcerned and relaxed.

‘Did that transaction go through, Snips?’

‘Immediately, Skyguy. No delays on our end.’

The twi’lek boss just kept typing and squinting into his terminal. Nothing in the guy’s emotions indicated anything odd, we were just another pair of visiting bounty hunter scum, looking to lose some money on the Promenade.

Finally, the guy looked up and waved us in to land.

I let out an inward sigh of relief.

It was always amazing how, in plans like this, success or failure hinged on the smallest details. If our fake account hadn’t passed muster, we’d be given one warning to fly away or every gank would open fire with their heavy blaster rifles and the anti-fighter weapons mounted on the platform.

Anakin turned the speeder in and accelerated briefly before lining up with one of the demarcated landing spaces, then steadily decreased the power to the repulsorlifts to bring it to a smooth and professional landing.

We both hopped out. He walked over the twi’lek to hand over the secondary keycard to the speeder, so it could be moved to a parking bay. Anakin also greased the twi’lek’s palm a bit with physical credits just because it was customary to do so.

We fell in step next to each other, walked off the platform and into the large, three meter tall threshold of Nar Shaddaa’s Promenade.

The corridor beyond was wide enough to fit two large speeders through and on either side a seemingly endless street of shops catering to seemingly everything and everyone. Each storefront was garishly decorated with flashing holo-ads, trying to outdo their neighbor in attracting a customer.

The amount of foot traffic wasn’t as high as I was expecting. It certainly wasn’t the unwashed masses we’d encountered so far. This was the relative ‘cream of the crop’ of Nar Shaddaa and I estimated at least a hundred to two hundred people of various species were in immediate sight. They wore somewhat expensive clothes and were generally armed in some fashion. Most of them seemed to actually be visitors to Narsha as there were a lot more variety to the species. In one glance, I saw human, togruta, trandoshan, cerean, bothan and sullustan.

The street turned left and eventually opened up into a huge central square - the main feature of which was a gigantic gold statue of a rather bloated hutt that gazed with satisfaction and malevolence down upon all who walked under it.

My curiosity got the better of me and I typed an instruction to M8, ‘Scan the statue, material composition?’

‘Twenty percent of the mass is aurodium, layered at least two meters thick on a durasteel base, mistress.’

Typical hutts. Gold in the Corusca galaxy didn’t have the value a planetbound civilization ascribed to the relatively rare metal. Not when general asteroid mining existed in almost every star system in the galaxy. It was an excellent conductor, used in a lot of construction and looked pretty. There were some parts of the galaxy where it was so abundant that the mining companies would pay you to take it off their hands, just so it wouldn’t clog up their systems.

The actual rare metal element that held value in terms of wealth in the galaxy was aurodium.

It was a mining prospector’s dream to find an aurodium asteroid, but the majority of the metal that existed was mined from rare planet side mines, of which there were only a few dozen publicly known across the core of the galaxy. If an aurodium asteroid was discovered, the civilization that found it would quickly place engines on the thing and relocate it quietly into an orbit that was a closely guarded secret.

It was rumored that the hutts had the most aurodium asteroids in their own space and were carefully mining it to regulate the price.

Another tall rumor was that there had once been chemical forges on the Jedi held world of Ossus that had been capable of transmuting lead into aurodium. A rumor which the Jedi of the time had strongly discouraged, but it didn’t matter as the planet was later destroyed in a supernova event.

At this point we had to go up a long sloped walkway to transition to the upper floor of the square, where the majority of the prime real estate for shops, casino, cantinas and clubs were. There were even outdoor restaurants here.

Our destination came into view.

Szog’s Casino was like most establishments on the Promenade, utterly festooned with holosigns in bright colors announcing itself and displaying all manner of stylized representations of the games of chance you could play inside.

We casually ambled inside. Immediately, I could feel Anakin wince and turn down the sound pickups on his helmet.

‘Be glad you can’t hear this, Snips.’

‘Is the music that awful?’

‘Yes,’ he thought emphatically.

That was the reality of when you were dealing with a vast array of species with different forms of hearing. The music you’d hear on Shili or on the Bith homeworld was bewildering if not incomprehensible to most humanoid species, especially when the instruments were making sounds with frequencies outside the standard range. Hutts also heard sounds differently considering how far they were outside the humanoid norm, as a result, their music was also not pleasing to the ears of the majority of the galactic species.

We passed the pazaak tables, weaved through the rows of holo ‘slot’ machines, avoided the rowdy dejarik tables where bets were being made on who would win and I couldn’t help but pause to look at the giant holoscreens overhead that was displaying pod racing. There were also a few screens showing the infinitely safer swoop racing circuit.

Crowds of betters were congregated underneath the screens, shouting, cheering and jeering for the performance of their riders.

‘Come along, Snips, if we don’t have to flee for our lives off this rock, we can take some time to play a few games after our mission.’

I felt a bit embarrassed at getting so distracted. I was just so busy lately, I hadn’t even found time to check the recent racing results… I hadn’t even known that the pod racing circuit was on its Nar Shaddaa leg.

We finally stopped near an area where a lot of tables were set up for playing Hintaro dice games. To one side against the wall was a set of double doors that was marked in both Basic and Huttese as ‘Employees only’.

It had some basic limited access control, mostly because of the amount of employees coming and going through it at any given time. Most of them were twi’lek waitresses coming from the kitchen with large trays balanced on their hands.

It wasn’t a minute before one such waitress emerged, bearing two large trays filled with very exotic looking drinks. Her strength and balance was quite impressive - as was her attractiveness. Only the best would be here on the Promenade.

‘M8, did you catch that?’ I typed subtly with my arms folded behind my back.

‘Yes, mistress. The twi’lek’s aurodium choker had the code transmitter hidden in it. I can duplicate it as necessary.’

I nodded at Anakin and we both fell into the Force, beginning to use the Persuasion to vanish from the minds of those around us.

It took barely a few seconds because everyone was so focused on their games.

Next I briefly shorted out the surveillance sensor that looked down on the employee entrance.

‘Go.’

We strode forward without hesitation and into the corridor beyond.

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The large entertainment room was filled with the typical collection of little aquatic fish that tended to follow in the wake of a larger predator. Groups of exquisite twi’lek who were chatting and giggling. Various high rollers of a variety of species, sitting at gambling tables and trying their luck, a band producing live music for the entertainment of everyone in the room. Nearly half a dozen small tables, with various denizens drinking and talking business. Anyone who was anyone significant on Nar Shaddaa, was in this room.

Ziro Desilijic Tiure lounged at the head of it all, ate his favorite snack of pickled space worm and drank his favored style of spicebrew.

He surveyed his current domain with satisfaction.

Jabba always populated any space he occupied with so many disgusting elements - criminals, hunters, assassins, smugglers, with only a few bits of pleasure here and there for the senses.

Ziro preferred as few of that ilk in his presence if he could help it. If it was beautiful and handsome then he wanted it in his court. He was so emphatic about that, he had even gone to great lengths to beautify himself; increasing the purple hue of his skin around the back areas and with numerous decadent tattoos covering his front. He was also one of the few hutts that had actually gone through a biosculpting to correct that typical lopsided mouth deformity that so many of his kind found no problem with.

The only element that he had no control over in the room was the half dozen bounty hunters lining the edges of the room that reported directly to the Hutt Council.

That was the subtle reminder from Jabba and those other slugs that he was only alive and relatively free at their sufferance.

Ziro inwardly smirked, that wouldn’t be for much longer though. Three of them were already secretly in his pocket and the fourth wouldn’t resist for much longer. Once that was done, the many machinations that were happening all over hutt space would enter the next phase. His revenge on those sleemo and the takeover of the Hutt Cartel to his will alone would be all but inevitable at that point.

“Ziro honey, I’m about to take the stage, any specific requests?”

He narrowed his eyes in seeming consideration of his lover’s request. Sy Snootles was looking particularly fetching today, with a new shade of lipstick on her stalky mouth and even a new pattern of tattoos adorning her wonderful leathery skin. That was the one thing that attracted him the most to the female pa’lowick, besides her singing voice, was her passion for beauty.

It was the one thing that made him truly angry about his own imprisonment on Coruscant, that it had caused his brief estrangement from Sy. Thankfully, she had understood and was waiting for  him with open arms when he had finally returned to hutt space.

“No, just sing to your heart’s content, my dear.”

Her mouth trilled with pleasure and she delivered a thankful kiss to the side of his head, before trotting off to the stage.

It was truly a pity that she would have to die at some point. Jabba thought he was so clever, turning his lover by offering her a better share of the profits at her musical performances all over hutt space and even letting her perform at the most exclusive venues. He idly wondered what hidden clause his nephew had engineered in those contracts. Sy was many things; writer, musician, a female who knew how to twist anyone around her fingers, even a part time bounty hunter, but a shrewd contract expert she wasn’t.

He was so entranced watching her walk away that he had almost totally missed the approach of the two rather well armed and armored mercenaries.

Their armor was of a pattern totally unfamiliar, though there were hints of Mandalorian in the design. Their hands were at their sides and they approached with no threat in their stance.

Ziro put down his glass and idly rested his right arm on his exclusive table. This brought his hand within touching distance of a hidden pad that controlled numerous defensive systems that always came with him everywhere.

The two mercs stopped their approach a respectful distance from his raised dias and bowed slightly.

“Greetings Ziro,” said the taller one, male, human if he had to guess.

“Hello mercenary,” retorted Ziro lazily, as if the merc was hardly worth his time at all. Inwardly, certain alarms were going off in his mind. That none of Jabba’s goons had at least stopped and talked to these two was concerning. The Hutt Council currently had a vested interest in keeping him alive, as much as they wished him dead.

“May we have a moment of your time. It concerns the death contracts you have against a certain Republic senator.”

The merc was using a voice modulator, how cute.

“Really? Do you wish to try your hand? I hope you don’t expect an advance from me. The Jedi are now guarding her and I’ve stopped throwing money so frivolously at the problem. The death contracts are now only valid if you can actually deliver me her head.”

Ziro had to admit he had let his emotions get away from him when he had begun the campaign to end that insufferable Amidala’s life.

“You misunderstand, we want you to rescind every death contract, even the ones that should trigger upon your death.”

Ziro had to struggle a bit to contain his sheer amusement, he settled for chuckling in his favorite manner - a nice sinister timbre. “Oh, did that pesky senator hire you two to negotiate with me? I hope she paid well.”

The smaller female mercenary folded her arms behind her back in a very military stance. “Amidala didn’t have to pay a single credit, Ziro,” she said, her voice also modulated, but conveyed amusement. “In a way, you are correct, we are here to negotiate… from a certain point of view. Whether you will enjoy these negotiations, I highly doubt it.”

Ziro didn’t like the tone he was sensing here and he narrowed his eyes at the two mercs. “Oh and why is that?”

“You have already lost the negotiations and our visit is to simply make you aware,” the male merc stated simply.

Ziro felt his anger stir, the presumption! “You better start talking fast if you wish to leave this place alive.”

“It’s as we said,” the female merc continued. “You will rescind all the contracts.”

“Oh, how precious and why should I do that?” Ziro asked in a mocking tone of voice, reaching to his glass of spicebrew and finishing the last remnants.

“It’s apparently getting very tiresome protecting the senator from all these assassins, not that you care about that. You will however care about the poison in your food and drink that you’ve been eating for the last two hours.”

Ziro wanted to release a full belly of laughter, but that was Jabba’s thing. He simply smiled and shook his head knowingly. “What I eat for breakfast would kill you three times over, little mercenary. Poison is useless against hutts!”

“You are correct,” she said, completely unphased. “However, hutts aren’t immune to all poisons. We know it takes a very special kind, knowledge which you hutts generally try to suppress or destroy. The poison you ingested was a special custom creation and it goes right through most scans and even the poor twi’leki you use to taste test.”

Ziro began to feel the slightest stirrings of fear and he felt his stomachs begin to grumble uncomfortably at the thought.

“It’s a rather amazing poison,” the male merc continued. “It comes in two parts. You’ve already ingested the first. It goes down, saturates your stomachs and intestinal linings and just sits there, quietly, interfering with nothing, totally undetectable. The second part is just like the first, except when the two meet in your body… that’s when things get interesting. They get together and have a party in your nervous system, after which you will be very dead.”

“And why should I believe all this, little mercenaries? Tell me why I shouldn’t just have you killed right now?” Ziro sneered.

“Feel free to scan yourself with a medical scanner, a frequency of 219.53 will reveal them briefly before they adapt. Also, if we die, our associates will deliver the second part of the poison to you. We are very good at infiltration, as you will see. If you fail to rescind all the death contracts within the next two hours, you will die. If Senator Amidala ever dies in a suspicious manner that even hints at your involvement, you will die. At this point, it’s just a matter of deciding whether you want to continue to live, Ziro.”

“Just think of all the money you’ll save as well,” the female merc chirped mischievously.

Ziro couldn’t help it and openly snarled, and turned to his protocol droid. “Get me a portable med scanner and tune it to the frequency!”

“At once, Mighty Ziro.” The silver droid twitched in fright and waddled off.

He glared menacingly at the mercs, his fingers twitching and desiring to blow them to little pieces with the hidden blaster turrets concealed in the decorative plants that lined his dias. It would be so easy! Yet something about these two was giving him pause. He had to appreciate the sheer audacity it took to threaten a hutt in his own center of power like this, yet they were standing there with not a hint of fear or uncertainty.

The droid returned and Ziro grabbed the pad sized scanner, powered it up and waved it at the main trunk of his own body.

The results made him feel like his stomachs wanted to jump out of his own body.

He calmly returned the device to the droid before exploding in anger, “You infected me with nanodroids?!”

The female merc giggled, “Oops, yes, small clarification, but the poison is carried by the droids and it’s what resists any attempt you’d make to find an antidote.”

Ziro balled his fists and mightily tried to control his temper, even as fear now surged forward like a wave and engulfed him. He hated it when someone tried to take his freedom, take away his choice. It was all that stupid tiny senator’s fault!

“What will it be, Ziro?” the male mercenary asked casually.

He hated this… hated being in the corner… nowhere to turn.

“Fine! Consider the contracts revoked.”

“That will not be enough, Ziro. We must see you doing so to your pointman who organized on your behalf.”

How!? How could they know about him?

“Get Vaszan on the holo,” Ziro snapped to his protocol droid.

“At once, Mighty Ziro.”

He turned to the mercenaries, “I do this, then afterward you will leave this moon and hutt space forever. I will find out who you are and anyone you call an associate or friend…”

“You are in no position to make such threats, Ziro,” the male mercenary waved him off! “We are fully aware of your precarious position among the hutt elite. I will admit it’ll be interesting to see if all your plotting will work out in the end or if you’re going to end up with two blaster bolts through the chest after suffering a betrayal you’d never expect in a million years. Isn’t that just the way it usually is with you hutts?”

Ziro was forced to just keep smoldering in his anger as the protocol droid returned with the portable secure holoterminal.

“You might think you’ve won, mercenary, but I’ve survived for hundreds of years at this game and I will continue to survive long after you’re dust in the ground.”

“We shall see, Ziro. We shall see.”

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A/N: Plotting and machinations abound as we have Ziro vs the Hutt Council. Have a great weekend. 

The Force Wills - Chapter 56

Flying on the Xanadu was infinitely more comfortable now.

Now that its interior had been properly designed by Temple engineers to support Jedi having to travel long distances in secrecy with its cloaking device. It had enough onboard consumables to support four people for a month. There were two rear passenger seats just behind the pilot and co-pilot seats which could collapse into reasonably comfortable single beds. Behind those were a WC on the starboard side and a tiny kitchenette on the port side. The only concession to comfort was in the center of the living space on the Xanadu - a raised meditation bench as you’d find in many rooms in the Jedi Temple.

All in all, the whole thing now felt like a cozy camper van; if one that was capable of traveling about 347 light years in an hour and respectably armed to take on any standard fighter in the galaxy.

It was also nice that both Anakin and I were traveling together as master and padawan, without the worry of a thousand other things related to running the Resolute and commanding the 501st getting in the way. It was only in these moments that I understood how the war had actually robbed both of us of the usual dynamic and daily life of a Jedi Master and padawan traveling the galaxy, going on adventures, righting the wrongs of the galaxy, following the will of the Force, stopping evildoers, getting called by the Jedi Council then hanging up on them, etcetera, etcetera.

Okay, that last one didn’t happen, but he had been ignoring their calls and I struggled mightily to keep a straight face as Anakin had a holocall with the Council explaining why he had commandeered the Xanadu without so much as a by-your-leave or explanation. Yes, they had ordered him to solve the Ziro the Hutt problem, but not to use the Xanadu.

The Council was still rather leery of cloaking devices. So far, the CIS had been content only to use cloaks on a handful of occasions in support of special operations and guerilla actions. The Republic and GAR had done the same, but it wasn’t seeing widespread use, mostly because of its cost. If the Jedi then began using it routinely… that somehow crossed some line in their minds. ‘Jedi should not skulk about invisibly in the shadows.’

What rot. That thinking is what saw the Jedi Shadows become nearly extinct in the Order and it was one of the primary reasons the galaxy was in this mess in the first place.

Thankfully, Yoda and the moderates on the Council, neatly reigned in the orthodox hardliners, giving Anakin only the equivalent of a slap on the wrist at the end of the day.

“So why steal it, master?”

Anakin flipped a few switches, secured the holocom system and sat back in the pilot’s chair.

“I knew if I asked it would take at least a day or even two before I’d get permission, that was time that I also knew I couldn’t afford to waste. My own foresight was clear on that.”

That made me feel rather satisfied. Expanding Anakin’s repertoire to not just be a straight forward Jedi Guardian who approached problems with a lightsaber and the odd bit of TK. He was the kriffing Chosen One for crying out loud and to keep him ignorant of the deeper mysteries and skills in the Force was a downright criminal waste of potential. It was dangerous as well, because there was no telling what feats Palpatine could pull out of his Sith bag of tricks and if Anakin remained ignorant to those avenues of attack, then disaster would result.

Our days aboard the Xanadu soon fell into a comfortable routine.

We made turns in sleeping for five hours at a stretch, but didn’t even bother trying to sync our body clocks with Nar Shaddaa time. The moon and its parent planet Nal Hutta, had a rotation of 87 standard hours and those living there slept a length of time their biology supported. The hutts barely kept cognizant of Galactic Standard Time. They moved, worked and played on their own time.

We made turns to prepare breakfast, lunch or supper.

The rest of the time we’d be training in the subtler arts of the Force, since we lacked the space to smack each other with lightsabers.

This was mostly to do with the Alter Mind disciplines and saw me teaching Anakin what I’d been taught by Kina Ha.

By the time we reached Zeltros on the Trellen Trade Route three days later, he had Force Perception to a point where he was successfully fooling my own mind into not seeing that he was there at all. Of course, I had my defenses down to simulate a normal unguarded mind. The next trick was to see if he could do that to an alert mind, someone who was paying attention or suspicious.

As a result of this, he was monopolizing the meditation platform quite a bit, but I didn’t mind.

I still had a ton of work to do; command studies, ‘Force’ studies, keeping up to date on my Fulcrum network, Kina’s latest lesson that she was sending me in a distance learning format, Clan Vizsla affairs, reading the latest correspondence from Lira Blissex at Kuat, Mistress Gray from Hapes, Riyo Chuchi and so on.

Lira’s letter was especially interesting as it included rough concept designs of what would be the first ‘Bastion’-class remote shield recharge ships. The name ‘Bastion’ wasn’t even final yet, but it’s what she was campaigning for the class to be named.

They were currently conceived as falling into a light cruiser tonnage, just over five hundred meters in length and were essentially huge banks of shield generators, squeezed into a scaled down wedge-shaped hull that it would share in common with its Venator big brother. It didn’t have a bridge tower, but it was raised a little bit off the main hull, giving it a much sleeker profile. Its engine power to mass ratio was crazy, making it blisteringly fast and able to zip around the battlespace to get where it needed to go in a hurry.

The current argument among the design group was whether or not to give it any weaponry.

One side argued that it would detract from its intended purpose in the battlespace, every erg of power wasted in weapons, was power that wasn’t going to recharging shields. It was a waste of space on the hull. That it should never need to shoot. The other side argued that there had to be at least some anti-fighter or missile defenses. Yes, the Bastion would have monstrously powerful shields for its own defense, but you couldn’t just rely on such a passive defense in this era of space warfare.

My own reply that I sent back to Lira was that the latter side had a point, but so did the former camp.

In an ideal scenario, whenever a Bastion was targeted, all the other Bastions would dump shield recharges on their fleetmate. A smart enemy would soon realize that if he spread his targets to the entire Bastion wing, making each call for shield recharge, then it would lead to confusion and a reduction in efficiency and strength. A Bastion needed to at least look after itself in a torpedo heavy battlespace. Then I pointed her in the direction of the fighter scale, rotary type blaster cannon that was mounted on the Xanadu.

It wouldn’t make the camps in the design group happy, but it at least reflected practical reality in the battlespaces. The Bastions should also add to AA coverage in a fleet, not leech off it, nor should they be hugging the Venators in close formation.

As Anakin predicted, our fuel level got to a low level just as we dropped out of hyperspace in the Kashyyyk system. Neither he nor I were comfortable flying onward to Randon on fumes so we diverted course to land and refuel on Kashyyyk itself.

The homeworld of the wookiees was another strange one for the galactic registers.

From space it was just an agglomeration of every hue of green you could imagine, with banks of white clouds gathering and rotating out from the polar regions. The oceans between the four major continents were green. It had no axial tilt and a perfectly circular orbit, therefore only experienced one continuous season of high heat, humidity and rain. The planet was mostly just filled with the gigantic wroshyr tree forests as a result but it did have a small amount of desert areas in the rain-shadow of the small mountain ranges that it had. It also featured a beautiful tropical ocean belt that contained archipelagos and coral reefs that was like the Great Barrier Reef of old Earth on steroids.

Not that I ever wanted to go diving to see it, as the ecology of Kashyyyk was often politely referred to as a ‘layered death trap’.

The wookiees lived on the uppermost level of the planet; among the canopies, branches and boughs of the giant trees, which were strong enough to easily support buildings made from modern materials. Naturally, the wookiees didn’t build like that and only used indigenous materials wherever possible.

The Xanadu was given clearance to land in the wookiee capital of Rwookrrorro, which was a true ‘city in the trees’ if I’d ever seen one. Even the landing pad we used was a circular flat structure, made of duracrete supplemented with natural local fibers, nestled on what was considered a minor branch of a wroshyr tree.

Walking outside was like getting slapped in the face with a hot tropical humidity.

My eyes and senses through the Force were picking up on the sheer abundance and concentration of life on this world. Flying overhead were agr, red colored birds of prey looking for their next meal. A few hundred meters away on another platform, was a bunch of Kashyyyk bantha being tended to by their farmer. The insect life was also abundant and already I had to TK away a handful of mosquito equivalents that were the size of my thumb.

Of course, the most plentiful sight was the wookiees themselves, who had a population all over the planet of roughly 45 million. This didn’t seem like a lot, but when you considered how space was at a premium among the upper level and the wookiees at minimum reached 2 meters in height for females and males generally reached 2.2, long lifespans of 400 years on average, then population density had to be carefully managed.  It was something they had been doing for thousands of years successfully. Their ascent into a spacefaring race had caused their numbers to also increase greatly offworld.

We were met by a wookiee male by the name of Grawda. He towered over us at 2.1 meters and had body fur that was a mix of brown and white, with golden, very intelligent eyes gazing down on us. He only wore a harness over his chest that contained an abundance of datapads, tools and even a bowcaster slung on his back.

Anakin did the talking and naturally he could understand Shyriiwook with no issues, even if he couldn’t speak it. Grawda, being the ‘dockmaster’ equivalent of the starship landing platforms of this part of the city, dealt with all kinds of aliens and didn’t mind being spoken to in Basic.

I did my best to pretend to listen to the conversation, and the only way I could even understand what was going on was to piggyback off Anakin’s mind through the bond.

Getting a full refuel was apparently going to be quite expensive, to the point where Anakin was trying to haggle to lower the cost.

He usually didn’t care about credits and our operating budget for this mission was quite substantial given where we were heading and our overall objective.

‘They’ve been having trouble refining starship fuel apparently,’ Anakin thought to me.

‘Why?’

He had a slight argument with the wookiee at this point, it happened so quickly that I couldn’t really make heads or tails of what was going on. I just knew at some point Grawda pointed at the lightsabers hanging from our belts. Anakin nodded and confirmed that yes, we were Jedi. More back and forth, before finally he explained.

‘It seems that the primary refinery that serves the starport’s fuel bunkers has been shut down. That’s the reason for the price hike.’

‘Is it that expensive? Would it gobble up all our liquid funds?’ Which was ridiculous, a sanctioned mission like this had 20,000 credits that was allocated to a Jedi Master for operating expenses. It was enough, in theory, to at least buy a small to light hyper capable ship in an emergency, with enough left over for fuel, food and other expenses.

‘No, of course not. However, the price is suspiciously high, it’s triple the current galactic standard rate, which is already inflated because of the war. Grawda further explained the shutdown was because the Seekers did so… that’s the wookiee’s law enforcement branch.’

I saw Grawda giving me and Anakin a look and he growled-moaned something in Shyriiwook.

‘Well, it seems the wookiee sense of smell and their intelligence is not exaggerated at all, he’s picked up that you’re injured in some way.’

I shrugged, ‘Might as well then.’

Grawda listened for a moment, nodded then gave a reply.

‘He says most wookiees with such a disability would banish themselves to the Shadowlands, to spare the tribe the trouble and resources of taking care of them,’ Anakin conveyed.

‘Tell him it's only temporary and ask why the Seekers have shut down the refinery.’

Anakin nodded and did so. Grawda seemed to huff and gave a short answer.

The answer shocked Anakin somewhat. ‘A murder, a wookiee worker was killed by their shift supervisor.’

‘That is always a tragedy, Skyguy, but why do you feel so shocked? It’s life, it happens.’

‘The supervisor in this case, is human.’

My brain screeched to a halt. ‘Human?’

‘There are humans who live here as immigrants, Snips,’ Anakin pointed out.

‘Oh, but… okay, so the human probably surprised the wookiee, or was armed when his victim wasn’t… sorry, Skyguy, I can’t resist a mystery.’

‘No problem, Snips,’ he smirked at me briefly and resumed speaking to Grawda.

The big wookiee eventually nodded, pulling out one of his datapads, whilst Anakin handed over the physical cred chips for the transaction. With that done, Grawda bowed his head slightly at us both and walked off the landing platform.

‘Well, I managed to grab us a 5% discount thanks to the fact that we’re Jedi of Master Yoda’s Order.’

‘Really?’ I vaguely recalled that Yoda had a long standing friendship with the wookiees as a whole. What basis that deep friendship had was not really explored at all.

‘Yes, anyway, we should be refueled within the hour. In the meantime, we could go exploring a bit or just stay put in the ship. This humidity is a bit crazy.’

I didn’t mind the humidity so much, it was the insane insect life that I objected to, as I had to throw a minor Force Push to swat away another small group of them.

To go or stay?

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My curiosity won the day and the realization that as I was in the middle of fighting a war, that my chances to visit the home planet of Chewbacca again would be very minimal as long as it raged. Not to mention the other complications of such long term thinking.

So Anakin led the way into the treetop city of Rwookrrorro.

As befitting the capital city of the planet, it was the largest, home to roughly half a million wookiees spread out over a vast surface area. Wookiees for all that they liked to live in tribes that generally supported each other, clearly needed their space. It was rare that we would be moving across a walkway between wroshyr trees and have to mind where we were going. The most wookiees I saw in a group together were five and they were clearly debating something rather vigorously judging from the emotions I sensed from them.

Like most other planets with a spaceport, not even the wookiees were immune to putting shops and tourist traps around it to snap up visiting spacers and travelers. From food, drink, gifts, toys, souvenirs and there was even a fashion shop.

I couldn’t help myself and went inside.

Wookiees were technically all ‘naturists’ and only wore things for functionality related to their profession mostly. There were exceptions, as their harnesses that they wore over their upper bodies could be very decorative and elaborate, which in some cases doubled into outright armor. The shop mostly sold such decorative harnesses sized down to general humanoid proportions. It also featured offworld fashion, but made from local, natural materials.

The shop proprietress was a rather pretty human woman, slightly taller than me, and she wore a nice airy green knee length dress that looked like it came from the shop.

She greeted me with a professional friendly smile and I just smiled in response, pointed to my montrals, shook my head and jerked a thumb at Anakin, who was only now walking in the shop. I decided to be less spooky in this encounter and began signing to Anakin.

‘Please tell her, I’m sorry I couldn’t hear her greeting and I wanted to know if that is actually armor that wookiees wear?’ I pointed to a large manakin that had an elaborate wroshyr wood armor harness.

Anakin looked at it with sudden interest and fascination before asking. The proprietress replied and I felt his astonishment at the answer.

‘It seems that when properly cut and treated, wroshyr wood can be strong and flexible enough to be used as starship hulls, though you’d still need deflectors for particle shielding at high speeds. Her name is Ves Kartinn, by the way, sounds Corellian.’ Anakin answered.

My mind boggled for a moment, as I signed rapidly, ‘Do the wookiees have wooden starships?’

Kartinn smiled and nodded, beginning a brief explanation, eventually Anakin signed, ‘Yes, though they’re considered luxury curiosities, not serious starships that can do work in space. Only the Wookiee Royal Families have them. Pleasure ships, in other words. They can even travel in hyper, though they don’t leave the Kashyyyk system in them, as if something were to go wrong, fixing the hull would be an issue.’

I thanked her with a bow and on a whim decided to browse and shop for a best equivalent of a ‘summer dress’ that was made from wroshyr fibers. I ended up getting a dress in a sky blue color that ended just above my knees and it breathed just right for the local climate.

Just as we were getting done with the transaction, I felt a spike of emotional rage outside the shop. Ves whirled to look outside and an exasperated look crossed her face.

When I looked to see what was going on, I only saw two towering wookiee males; a brown one and a mixed white and brown wookiee furiously growling at each other just outside the shop.

Both were stomping the walkway under their feet and elaborately posturing with their arms. It was also attracting a small crowd of more wookiees, males and females, who began spectating and even occasionally joining in the argument.

‘What’s going on?’ I signed to Anakin.

He kept a wary eye on the arguing wookiees and asked Ves. She shook her head, leaned on her shop counter and began speaking. This explanation took a while as there was clearly some context that needed to be given first.

‘That is an argument that’s gotten serious enough to become public, wookiees are generally peaceful until their anger is roused, even then they have strict rules and traditions about how it can be expressed. Those two are arguing about the murder that happened at the refinery. The brown wookiee is arguing to let the Seekers do their job, but the brown and white one is advocating for the guilty human ‘madclaw’ to just be banished to Shadowlands immediately, including arguing that all the humans should just be banished offworld permanently to stop this from happening again.’

I could vaguely recall ‘madclaw’ was a significant label to attach to someone in wookiee society. Something about how a wookiee’s claws, which were used to help them climb Kashyyyk’s trees and flora, should never be used in combat. Any wookiee who did were labeled madclaw and banished to the lowest levels or Shadowlands of the planet. Even most ardent die-hard naturist wookiees never ventured below what was considered the ‘third level’ of the ecology, with most wookiees living on the upper seventh level. The Shadowlands was the ground floor - the place where exiled wookiees were sent to die and where Revan had to travel to find the Rakatan Atlas to find the ancient Star Forge.

The argument continued and it was hard to even judge visually or through their emotions how it was progressing or which side the crowd was approving of.

Anakin shrugged eventually, ‘It’s happening so fast, my Shyriiwook isn’t that good, only a native can keep up with that.’ He asked Ves something, she shook her head and spoke. ‘She’s lived here for ten years, can even speak the language for short bursts, but certain words are beyond human vocal chords. As best she can tell, the crowd is favoring the brown wookiee, who’s also making the most rational arguments.’

This didn’t enthuse the other side of the argument, who’s temper flared even higher and pushed his opponent.

Immediately, the crowd’s general roaring stopped and they backed off to form a large circle.

The brown wookiee immediately realized what had just been acknowledged and invoked. He growled with frustration and walked into the center of the newly created combat circle. I mentally dubbed him Mr. Sagan.

The white and brown wookiee, who I mentally dubbed Mr. Xeno, eagerly approached and fell into a wookiee version of a combat stance.

Anakin put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a hard look. ‘Do not interfere. Ves says this is normal, things won’t go lethal. Neither have weapons and any side stupid enough to use their claws deserves the Shadowlands.’

The fight that followed was inelegant and brutal. Wookiees didn’t seem to have any sense of a martial art or they never bothered inventing one. Mind, when you were that big it made little sense to bother.

Sagan and Xeno took turns to charge into each other then laid into each other with massive fists that produced such impact that I swore I could feel it through my lungs.

Unlike in a human equivalent, the crowd watching did so in absolute silence.

I even asked Ves through Anakin why this was.

‘The crowd is usually a big part in why an argument gets to this level. The aggressor got angry that the crowd wasn’t on his side, so he escalated the fight. The wookiees won’t cheer now because they all want this to be resolved and to de-escalate. It’s not in their nature to be like this, they’re mostly gentle and benevolent as a rule.’

The fight continued for six rounds of seemingly bone crushing punches, until finally Sagan shook his head and refused to continue, conceding the victory to Xeno.

Far from settling anything, Xeno just grew disgusted by the concession and stormed out of the fighting circle.

Sagan left, visibly wincing and limping.

‘Well, he might have won the battle, but he still lost the crowd,’ Ves said. ‘Rather clever of the brownie to concede like that.’

Anakin asked her, ‘What do you think about the murder?’

‘Let’s just say I hope the Seekers get to the bottom of it quickly. What you just saw is not the first ritual combat argument. I’ve heard that dozens have broken out so far all over the city ever since it was announced, all over the same issue. If this isn’t sorted out properly and soon, the Royal Families might ask King Grakchawwaa for a lockdown of off-worlders to preserve the peace and to close the starport.’

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We returned to the Xanadu an hour and a half later, having walked our fill of the touristy spots around the spaceport, buying a few more trinkets to mark our visit to the planet of the wookiees.

The one thing that had surprised me and shouldn’t have, was the fact that we had found a curio toy shop that sold very fluffy, very huggable plush toys, shaped roughly like wookiees. They came in all sizes and the shop even had a novelty one on display that was life sized. It was all just too adorable to resist and I had bought one that fit in my lap. Naturally, every customer in that shop was an off-worlder and the owner was a large wookiee that had a relatively ‘young’ feel to him in the Force, who was entirely bemused at the reactions around him.

I didn’t know whether he considered his shop a serious endeavor for making money or just something to do for a font of endless amusement - as if he was meme-ing on the off-worlders.

It was probably both.

We found our ship refueled and with someone waiting for us.

It was a wookiee female, with a glistening brown tint to her fur and wearing a curious, yet very official looking bandoleer and belt combination. She was also armed with a traditional looking sheathed blade at her hip and a bowcaster slung on her back.

She greeted us in Shyriiwook and bowed.

Anakin and I politely returned it and he began speaking to her, whilst he signed the conversation to me.

‘This is Umnunoo, she is an official Seeker of the Wookiee tribes. She heard of our presence.’

‘That gossip travels faster than light among the wookiees is not surprising,’ I signed, whilst keeping my smile even.

‘She’s asking whether she might impose on our time and aid in a quest for the truth.’

‘Let me guess, the murder?’

Anakin and Umnunoo talked back and forth, until he finally signed. ‘Yes. There’s apparently aspects to this case where she believes a Jedi would be just the ticket to cracking it wide open.’

Oh, this was just so typical. The Force was once again meddling.

‘Master, we have a critical mission already,’ I signed with a resigned air.

He wagged a forefinger at me. ‘You feel it just as I do, Snips. We have been asked for help, officially. To refuse at this point would go against the reputation of the Jedi. Besides, I sense this won’t take that long. Master Sinube will inform us if Ziro’s situation changes.’

It helped that the Force would certainly be throwing a hissy fit if we couldn’t afford this delay and a brief probe with Prescience agreed.

‘Fine, but I’m getting in M8 and letting her do the translating. Besides, I think her sensors will also come in handy.’

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Fully armored up and with helmet on so the HUD could display M8’s rolling translation of the speaking going on around me, we left with Umnunoo in a four person speeder.

She gunned it to blistering speed of over four hundred kph and headed into a south-easterly direction straight for the nearby coast and the wookiee city of Palsaang in the Wawaat Archipelago.

The speeder had a full coverage air shield and she had no trouble briefing us on the case.

“The suspect’s name is Rec Marsal.” The phrase flashed on my HUD after Umnunoo spoke. “Human immigrant, been living here for ten years and been working in the Palsaang Refinery for all that time. He was actively recruited for his chemical engineering expertise and the Palsaang Family offered him a lucrative deal. His contract was only for five years, but he was offered an extension and he accepted. In my own interview with him, it seems he also grew to enjoy the life here on Kashyyyk and just a few years ago was accepted as a full immigrant by the Royal government.”

“Not exactly the profile of a murderer so far,” Anakin said. “He’d definitely know by now how wookiee culture deals with this.”

Umnunoo growled and nodded. “Yes, so far, all the physical evidence points to a crime of fury or as humans say, passion.”

“What’s his relationship to the victim?”

“He was the supervisor of the shift, the victim, she was his subordinate. Everyone I interviewed said they got along normally, as expected of a boss and someone who reported to him in a working environment.”

“How was the murder accomplished?”

“Blaster pistol that belonged to the suspect, she was shot from the front, straight through where the wookiee heart is.”

“You still have the weapon?”

“It’s locked up and guarded by two of my best at the refinery. The crime scene itself is also locked down. The suspect is also kept there for the moment.”

Anakin frowned and studied the wookiee Seeker, “How much pressure are you under to get this done quickly?”

“A lot,” she growled in muted anger. “The Palsaang Family especially are impatient and are pressuring the king to order me to throw Marsal into the Shadowlands.”

“Forgive me, I’m not that well versed in wookiee culture, but can he do that?”

“He can, but doesn’t want to. Tradition affords Seekers great power to arrive at the truth. If he interfered with that, it would undermine his rule in the eyes of the people.”

“So that’s why you also requested our aid?”

“Yes, and Marsal is… he is hiding something. His attitude is resignation to his death in the Shadowlands. He offers no defense and is speaking no further. Perhaps you Jedi can see what I can’t and get through to him.”

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We landed in front of the Palsaang Refinery forty minutes later.

It was set on a foundation a stone’s throw from the beach facing the nearby ocean. A multitude of thick heavy pipes ranged out from the structure and dipped directly into the rolling waves. The refinery building itself was tall, gray and ominous in design. It definitely wasn’t built by wookiees, who preferred organic shapes wherever possible. The workers themselves lived in dwellings built on the smaller wroshyr trees here on the coastline.

“Crime scene first or do you want to talk to Marsal?” Umnunoo asked.

“Let’s look at the evidence first,” Anakin answered.

The Seeker led the way into the refinery via a large blast door that rose up at her approach. There we were met by a number of other wookiees who were also wearing bandolier and belt, which seemed to signify that they were Seekers as well. They thumped their fists against their chests at Umnunoo’s approach, a greeting which she returned by only using one fist.

The industrial interior of the refinery was one of naked durasteel, walkways, machinery and had a distinct air of age, despite being in seemingly perfect working order. There were condensers in use that I knew had last been state-of-the-art just under a century ago. The computers and interface panels were at least a generation old.

Most engineers would look at the place and be amazed it was still running smoothly, but it was a testament to the wookiee’s intelligence, ingenuity and working with what they had.

Umnunoo had no problems navigating us through the veritable maze of corridors, until we arrived at what was the crime scene.

It was guarded by two very big wookiees, also Seekers, one with a drawn bowcaster and the other with a naked blade that was a dagger by their standards, but would be a sword to smaller species. They opened the doors by fiddling with a control panel and it hissed open into the durasteel wall recesses.

Beyond was a gigantic room filled with huge tanks, piping, pumps, and control screens mounted directly into the walls and the machinery. Umnunoo walked forward through it all and stopped three-quarters of the way in, beside a large tank that stretched from floor to ceiling. She gestured to the floor.

“Here.”

She stepped to the side to fiddle with a large portable holoprojector that was standing on a long tripod. It burst into life and projected the body of the murdered female wookiee that lay awkwardly crumpled with folded legs and on her back, simply staring into the ceiling with dead golden eyes.

“The actual body?” Anakin enquired delicately.

“In the possession of the Seeker who specializes in such things. I already have his report. Tradition demands it returns to the family within the next two days.”

“And he found nothing odd or anything to contradict the current ‘crime of fury’ theory?”

“No. She died due to a precise shot from a blaster at close range.”

“So she knew her attacker and had no reason to suspect she was in danger, she was surprised, didn’t have time to flee or fight back. No DNA or cell traces from Marsal on her hands, fur or claws?”

“None,” Umnunoo confirmed.

I raised my left hand towards the place where the victim had fallen. M8 knew what that meant, and began using her hi-res scanners on the floor. I moved my hand around in a circle, widening the scan until it compromised a full ten meter diameter.

My HUD flashed the imaging results. The floor here was hardened duracrete, but the place naturally accumulated dust. Combined with the humidity and how recent this was, M8 scans managed to draw a pretty detailed map of footprints. It was naturally a mess given how many worked in this plant, but M8 filtered for the age of the footprints, running analysis in a way only a droid who was generally used in archeology could.

“What is the estimated time of the murder? How long ago?” I signed.

“Roughly 49 hours, it occurred during the night, when the refinery was closed,” Umnunoo answered after M8 used her own voice to speak for me.

“Does it not operate constantly?”

“No, only thirteen hours a day, seven hours are scheduled for maintenance afterward, the remaining six hours of the day it’s closed.”

“Any surveillance sensors in here?”

“Yes, if something goes wrong, the engineers here want to know why. Unfortunately, the sensors seem to have been turned off for the night in question and only turned on again when the next day’s shift reported for work. That’s not standard procedure. It’s the first thing that led me to believe that there’s more going on here. If this was a crime of fury, then Marsal wouldn’t even think to bother.”

“Humans can hold onto hot anger for a long time, Umnunoo,” Anakin pointed out. “We’re more than capable of keeping our wits about us whilst in anger, it depends on the individual. It’s entirely possible Marsal was angered by the victim in some way, then he could roughly plan her murder.”

She shook her shaggy braided head. “That doesn’t fit with my interview and assessment of him.”

“How well was this crime scene preserved?” I asked.

“Hriddu, the refinery manager, was the one who discovered the body. He says that he locked the room down immediately. No one besides him came within touching distance of the body.”

“M8’s scans show the presence of three wookiees and a human at roughly the time in question,” I revealed. “Assuming one is Hriddu, the second is the victim’s footprints, the human is Marsal, then it means we have a third unknown wookiee that walked where the body had fallen.”

Umnunoo looked around in confusion, “You have a droid here?”

“M8 is a repurposed explorer droid that is part of my armor, her analysis programs for archeology are quite useful in this case.”

M8 then spoke up for herself in Shyriiwook, introducing herself. Umnunoo seemed quite impressed and intrigued if her body language and sense in the Force was anything to go by.

“Are you certain of this M8?” Umnunoo asked.

“93% Seeker Umnunoo,” M8 replied with a ‘chirpy’ voice, a fact which she saw fit to display on my HUD.

“Can we see the weapon?” Anakin asked.

Umnunoo nodded and touched a part of her bandoleer, which was revealed to be a cunningly hidden comlink, as she called another Seeker to bring down the weapon.

Barely a few minutes later another big wookiee entered carrying a rugged steel briefcase with flaky green paint. It beeped and a small screen on its side flashed the moment it was handed over to Umnunoo. She thanked and dismissed her fellow Seeker before tapping in a code into the briefcase, then put it on the floor and folded it open.

“A BlasTech DC-16, civilian version,” Anakin said as he knelt down next to the case, examining it closely and wisely not picking it up even with his gloved right hand. “Made for a humanoid hand, and has 49 shots out of 50 remaining in its power cell. Umnunoo, how well would a wookiee handle this gun?”

In answer she pushed away the fur from her own hand, revealing a very big, dark skinned, four fingered hand with an opposable thumb, “Awkwardly, but usable.”

“Trace scans?”

“We found only human skin cells matching Marsal, it’s his weapon, the blaster wound and scorch pattern matches one produced by such a weapon. His right hand also scanned positive for residual tibanna gas venting. He fired that weapon during the time frame of the murder.”

“Where was this weapon found?”

“In his office, desk drawer,” she pointed to one side of the large space where a cubicle office sat in the corner.

I was starting to see why Umnunoo felt frustrated. You would think Marsal would try to dispose of the weapon. There was even a handy ocean nearby to throw it in and the Seeker’s would’ve never found it. Yet he shoots the victim, walks back to his office, and puts the blaster right back in his desk.

“How did you even come to suspect Marsal in the first place?” I asked.

“Standard scans of this room, we picked up the tibanna signature and the energy source of that blaster from his office. When I first questioned him, it wasn’t long before he confessed to the murder.”

“So you even have a confession, yet you’re still not wrapping up this case?” Anakin asked with an impressed look at Umnunoo.

“I abide by my oath as seeker, Jedi Skywalker. This is Kashyyyk.”

Her body language and how she spoke Shyriiwook showed her feelings on the matter, and she was a blaze of repressed fury at the thought that she would ever just close a case for expediency.

He raised his hands wearily, “Apologies, didn’t mean to imply that you would, Seeker Umnunoo.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her fury fading. “No, I apologize. You are visitors, guests and would not know.”

Anakin stood and patted down his legs for dust, “I think it’s time we had a chat with Marsal. See if he doesn’t know anything about this mysterious third wookiee.”

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He was being kept in a room in the administrative wing of the refinery on the upper floors. It had been a bare bones office with a single desk, a computer terminal, chair and a very small window that overlooked the trees, beach and ocean. That was all pushed to the side and Marsal sat miserably on a single chair in the center of the room. A Seeker was in the room with him, patiently standing in front of the window, guarding the man.

He didn’t even look up when we entered, simply staring at the floor between his legs.

Umnunoo grunted something that M8 couldn’t translate, the guard left and closed the door behind him.

By appearances alone, Marsal was a thirty something man, black curly hair, blue eyes and a rounded face. He didn’t have the look of an active person, working only with his mind and rarely with his hands, though I did spot old calluses on them. His semi-formal clothing of black, white and grays, with a stylish tunic and pants, would be at home in any professional setting on Hosnian or Coruscant.

In the Force, he was a cloud of misery, sadness and hopeless depression. I sensed no guilt or remorse, but there was a slight undercurrent of anger that simmered beneath everything, it also had a nuance to it.

“Are you feeling this, Skyguy?” I thought over the bond.

“Yes, I get the same. I’m beginning to see Umnunoo’s point.”

“That nuance of anger… what is it?”

“That my padawan, is righteous anger, something you feel when someone or something has hurt or killed someone very close to you.”

A feeling Anakin would be very familiar with.

I stood to the side, leaning against the wall and Anakin stopped directly in front of Marsal, almost invading the man’s personal space. That managed to generate a reaction at least. He flinched a bit, sat straight and leaned backwards, meeting Anakin’s eyes with alarm.

“Yes, what… who… who are you?”

Marsal scanned the room frantically, taking in my own presence and Umnunoo, who was patiently standing next to me now.

“I am Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, over there is my Padawan, Ahsoka Tano. Seeker Umnunoo has asked us to look into the matter of the murder of… sorry, what was her name?”

“Peuru,” Umnunoo said.

“Peuru, thank you.” Marsal’s reaction to the name of his victim was interesting as was the feeling of indignation. It was as if he felt that Anakin… no, everybody should know that name. Then he felt astonished that of all things, actual Jedi would be here. “So tell me, why kill her?”

He looked at Anakin and it was like a screen had closed over his eyes, he shook his head. “I refuse to answer. I’ve given my confession to Seeker Umnunoo, the physical evidence is there. That is enough.”

Anakin clicked his tongue and folded his arms, “That’s not going to work, Marsal. You don’t need to talk for a Jedi to interrogate you. I’m going to recite the chain of events as we understand them, both my padawan and I will be picking up on your every emotional reaction and surface thought, picking it apart for inconsistency. It’ll be difficult, but we will get to the truth eventually. So why don’t you save us all a lot of time and tell us the actual truth. Tell us about the other wookiee who was with you.”

The fear that suffused Marsal at the mere mention of that mysterious wookiee was extremely potent. He kept his face well controlled, but his eyes widened before he could get it under control.

Marsal pursed his lips and shook his head.

“The hard way it is then. Tell me why you were meeting Peuru late that night.” The Force flexed and twisted as Anakin wove a sudden Mind Trick on the man. Marsal opened his mouth to answer automatically, his eyes briefly glazing over, before his will resurfaced and his teeth clacked together as he resisted admirably.

“What… what was that?” He blinked rapidly. “What did you do to me?”

“You have a strong will and mind, Marsal. Good for you, but it still won’t help. Umnunoo told me that you wanted to go over a change to the maintenance schedule with Peuru after the shift was over. That was how you got her alone in the tanker room.” Marsal’s reactions, emotions and involuntary thoughts; that all rang as truth to this mind. “Did you actually discuss the maintenance schedule?”

Marsal didn’t answer and mightily tried to avoid any emotional reaction, but to a non-Jedi, it was like telling someone to not think about something, but cognitive response absolutely ensured that you would think about it, even as you frantically told yourself to not think.

‘I’m getting a big no, there, master,’ I thought to Anakin.

He nodded, “Of course, you didn’t discuss it. You were too busy killing her.”

“I did kill her,” Marsal blurted out desperately.

I frowned in confusion, ‘Master, why does that register as truth?’

‘Context, Snips, context. Pay attention carefully now.’ Anakin frowned at Marsal visibly. “You truly believe that.”

“Yes! Yes, I do. I did it.”

“You desperately want me to accept that.”

“Yes!”

Anakin leaned over, staring deep into Marsal’s eyes. “Did you pull the trigger?”

“Yes!”

That was a lie. So how does someone believe they had killed, but didn’t actually commit the act?

Anakin stepped back and said a single word softly, “Peuru.”

The result of the name, when uttered without context or anything else to react to, shocked me… Marsal felt sorrow, sadness and it all came from… love.

He had loved Peuru.

Now I was not a person who would throw stones about interspecies romance and I didn’t even want to think about the mechanics. We also didn’t know if it was a one-sided affair from Marsal that Peuru didn’t return.

“Did she share your feelings?” Anakin asked pointedly.

The poor man tried to bury it with anger, but the amazing answer was, yes Peuru felt the same way. Just like that it all clicked in my mind, the puzzle pieces aligning.

I signed and M8 spoke, “Someone found out, didn’t they?”

Marsal glared at me, yet there was fear in his eyes.

Umnunoo shook her shaggy head, “Skywalker, Tano, are you suggesting that Peuru and Marsal were in a physical relationship? That’s…” She trailed off as if not believing her own ears.

“Has that not happened since the Royal Families allowed human immigration?” I signed, before M8 boomed the translation to Shyriiwook.

“There are some… rumors of it happening, but that’s all it is. The biological differences are just too great. No sane human or wookiee…” She trailed off when she saw that now Marsal was openly glaring at her.

“Interspecies relationship aside,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “It would clearly be enough of a potential societal scandal that when someone found out, they tried to use it as blackmail.”

Marsal sat back in his chair and stared at his own hands, I could feel it the moment he gave up. “Yes, somehow Urroch found out. I don’t know how… we were both so careful.”

“Who is Urroch?” Anakin asked.

Umnunoo leaned forward with suspicion in her eyes. “Urroch of the Palsaang?” Marsal nodded with resignation. She literally growled enough that M8 felt it should be indicated on my HUD. I could also feel that she was not liking the potential implications. She explained, “Urroch is a middle son of the Palsaang Royal Family. He’s rich thanks to his family, wants more of it and has a reputation just short of being a madclaw. He’s run afoul of the Seekers on multiple occasions, but his family always gets him out of it.”

Well, not all wookiees could be Chewbacca, I guess.

“So he tried to blackmail both of you and something went wrong enough that your blaster came into the picture and Peuru got shot in the struggle?” Anakin theorized.

Marsal shook his head, “It’s worse than that, Master Jedi. Urroch is as xenophobic as they come. He couldn’t conceive that any female wookiee would love a puny, weak human. I don’t know what he aimed to extort from us both, maybe money but things didn’t get that far in our ‘conversation’, but he certainly came prepared. He was wearing an isolation suit, so that he wouldn’t accidentally leave hair behind that could be traced. He looked ridiculous in it and I couldn’t help but laugh.”

Imagining a fully dressed wookiee like that did somewhat tickle the funny bone.

“He didn’t appreciate that?”

Marsal snorted, “Of course not, he flew into a rage about it. It’s only with hindsight that I think he was counting on that. He attacked me and I had brought along my blaster just in case, I pulled it out to defend myself but couldn’t aim or pull the trigger in time. He easily wrestled it away from me and simply pushed me to the floor and kept his foot on my chest. Peuru wanted to intervene but she immediately understood the threat Urroch was making - one stomp of his foot would kill me. She pleaded with him to stop, that’s she’d do anything.”

He closed his eyes and I felt the sheer pain, heartache and ever present righteous anger simmering in the background.

“Urroch was disgusted by that,” Marsal continued when he had mastered himself. “Said that Peuru wasn’t a wookiee anymore, that she had been corrupted by me… then he simply aimed the blaster and fired. She just… just crumpled… she was always so strong, tall, so full of life… and just like that,” he flicked a finger, “she was gone. I’d never seen anyone die before… and for it to be her… why? Just… why?” He asked in desperation, which turned to anger and he started to smash his fists into his own legs. “Why?!”

I felt Anakin’s empathy for the man surge, he stepped forward and put hand on Marsal’s shoulder. “I wish I could answer that in a way that would take away your pain, but it wont. This is something you will carry for the rest of your life. Only time and perhaps the love of family and others will heal the wound, but the scar remains.”

“Time and family, I have neither. I came to Kashyyyk to escape what my life had become on Corellia…” Marsal shook his head, unwilling to further speak on that topic.

“What happened next?” I signed.

“Urroch knew he had to clean up after himself, so he replaced the power pack from a spare I had, had me shoot it once through an open window so I would get residue on me and told me exactly what my story should be, that I must confess to the Seekers and be banished to the Shadowlands.”

A long silence followed as everyone digested his story.

Finally, Umnunoo stepped forward, “Jedi Skywalker, Padawan Tano, did you find any lie in Rec Marsal’s testimony here?”

“It’s the truth as he knows it,” I signed.

“He speaks the truth,” Anakin affirmed.

“It will be much simpler for all of us, Seeker Umnunoo, if you just send me to the Shadowlands,” Marsal whispered. “You still need some evidence to at least convince your fellow Seekers before you can bring this before the king.”

“Evidence I will find,” she growled in determination. “I will start by looking for that isolation suit, the actual power pack used in the murder, and look more closely into why the surveillance sensors were down. That when combined with a sworn holo recording from two Jedi, will be enough to get that madclaw to answer for his crimes before the king himself!”

“If Urroch is clever he’ll have destroyed and ‘lost’ all that, he wouldn’t keep it,” Anakin pointed out.

“Maybe, maybe not, I know Urroch’s type. There’ll be something he’ll want to keep as a memento or something to mark this ‘achievement’. If nothing else, I can trace who made the isolation suit in that madclaw’s size, that is custom work, not mass manufactured.”

“Why wouldn’t it be mass manufactured? What about when wookiees have to do work in hazardous environments?” I asked.

“We’re a rather large species and relatively few in number, Padawan Tano. One of the reasons we allowed immigration onto Kashyyyk was for maintenance and jobs in small tight spaces. Those of us who work in such environments are too few to justify a whole factory just to make a hazard suit, our space suits are also custom. Now… I want to thank you both for helping, but I need to get started on this.”

Anakin smiled ruefully, “You’re welcome and this is where you tell us politely to be on our way.”

Umnunoo chuckled, “After leaving your sworn testimony, of course. I’ll also ask for your contact details, Jedi Skywalker. You might be needed to make a holo appearance in the future before the king in this matter.”

“As my padawan likes to say, that’ll certainly be interesting.”

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The Xanadu plunged into hyperspace and began the final three day leg of the journey to Nar Shaddaa.

I sat back in the pilot seat, going over the cloaking device checklist and couldn’t help but feel…

‘It sometimes happens, Snips,’ Anakin thought from his position on the mediation bench. ‘Not everything we do ends with lightsabers flashing and a criminal being caught in some desperate struggle against time with disaster looming. Sometimes our job is as simple as what we just did, to help the truth come out. Our jurisdiction on Kashyyyk is limited to what the wookiees allow, they are non-aligned at the moment.’

‘Rather surprising that is still the case, considering what happened in the first month of the war, you were involved in that, weren’t you?’

‘The Battle of Alaris, the primary moon of Kashyyyk, yes. You read that report?’

‘Considering it was fought over multiple fronts and involved an ancient Sith weapon that could literally harvest life energy, it did indeed capture my interest, Skyguy.’

It was a weapon dating back all the way to the Great Hyperspace War some five thousand years ago that Dooku had rediscovered or had been told of by his master. It was literally a technological version of what Emperor Vitiate had been able to do through ritual, absorb all life then use it to whatever purpose necessary. In this case, a relatively small saucer shaped ship barely a hundred meters in diameter, that could annihilate fleets and armies with exotic energies that ignored shielding. The Sith gave it the utterly predictable name of Dark Reaper.

‘So all that desperate fighting, a Republic victory and a whole village of wookiees dead, and it wasn’t enough for King Grakchawwaa?’

‘It’s the death of the village which cemented the king’s decision. Wookiees don’t have a large population, Snips, they can’t afford to fight a war of this scale and they don’t want to fight at all if they can help it.’

Something I knew which would change in the next few years. The reason for which I couldn’t intuit or remember at the moment, but given the nature of wookiees it wasn’t hard to deduce a probable cause. Sooner or later, someone close to the king would die directly at the hands of the CIS and drive them onto the Republic’s side.

Why would the CIS even bother with the wookiees in the first place?

The old reason was always how valuable the wookiees were as technically competent slaves and laborers with a multi-century lifespan.

However, a little known fact was that the wookiees had access to numerous, secret hyperspace lane routes. Routes which had been mapped over centuries by the Claatuvac Guild; a secretive group of wookiee cartographers, hyperspace scouts and navigators. That was all that was known even to the Jedi. Those secret routes would be just the ticket for the CIS to undermine a lot of defensive planning in the east and north-east of the galaxy.

So far, the CIS hadn’t pushed that hard to obtain the data, but it was undoubtedly on their to-do list. Just as it was undoubtedly on Republic Intelligence’s list of tasks to head off any clandestine robbery attempt by the CIS.

Kashyyyk’s strategic position on the Trellen Trade Route and the first hurdle to jump before you could hit the Republic world of Umbara was another factor.

I put down the datapad with finality. ‘Enough turu-gathering, you need to master Force Perception to at least my level before we hit Nar Shaddaa, Skyguy. You don’t want me to have to babysit you through this mission do you?’

He gave me a wry look, ‘No, master.’

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A/N: A small detour on Kashyyyk. I looked at the nav routes to Nar Shaddaa and the chapter just wrote itself from there. Hope you enjoyed, have a great weekend.

The Force Wills - Chapter 55

I had hoped to never wake up in one of these.

It was a foolish hope, given that I was fighting in a war.

My eyes lazily opened and all I saw was bubbly water? No, wrong viscosity and the feel of it against my eyes was also wrong. It was actually comfortable and didn’t have the slightly stingy feel when H20 was introduced into direct contact with my eyeballs.

Oh yeah, full immersion bacta tank. Yay.

My thoughts were incredibly slug… gish.

I was half-awake, still half-sleeping and I really felt like just nodding off again. It was like someone had attached weights to my eyelids.

I listened to nature’s insistence this once and nodded off into sleep.

It was just an eyeblink and I knew I had slept, but it really didn’t feel like it.

I firmly opened my eyes this time to take stock; still in the bacta tank, but something was wrong. Something was missing.

What was missing slammed into me with the weight of a dreadnought.

I saw the tank, I could feel the bacta surrounding me, I could feel the boob tube around my chest, the breathing regulator clamped onto my mouth and the tech-diaper hooked up to my plumbing downstairs, I felt the concentration of the Force surrounding me, healing me and aiding the bacta in doing its job.

The world and universe around me was otherwise utterly silent.

I should be hearing the pumps and the machinery of the bacta tank doing its job.

I should be hearing the bubbles collapsing around me.

Yet there was nothing.

I could feel my body start to react to this realization, the iron bands of panic trying to wrap themselves around me.

No!

I passed it all through me, letting it out into the Force and instead focused on memory, on the path that the emotion had taken.

I… remembered defending Padme from the missile attack. The one that slipped through… HK firing, the missile must’ve detonated too close. I remember covering her with my body and in that moment too quickly for even a Jedi reaction with precognition, still unable to gather enough strength to put up TK shield, the overpressure hitting from the close explosion. My own Prescience, utterly exhausted, had just not found the probability line and in retrospect I had probably used the Force so much at a constant level over the whole day…

Stupid.

There right in the background, very small, like a church mouse, was the tiny bit of fear that had inspired me all day. The fear of losing Padme, fear of screwing up somehow, the fear of missing something.

Now I had lost my hearing.

I focused inward, looking towards my body through the Force.

It’s what happened to most species with very sensitive hearing in proximity to blasts and because I had looked at case studies from Shili, my montrals had experienced a full collapse. It wasn’t as bad as a full burst, but clearly the overpressure had done just enough to result in the second worst scenario.

Structurally, my montrals had already been healed by the bacta dip and I could see the precise work of a medical droid, but there was now swelling and I had been implanted with a neural shunt to literally shut down my hearing whilst the healing continued on a cellular level. If that shunt hadn’t been there I would now be in absolute agony from both the pain and where even the slightest sound would be like I was standing next to a starship engine at full throttle in an atmosphere.

Either way, even if things healed fully, I was looking at a week or even two weeks of being deaf to allow my montral’s equilibrium to come back. Force Healing would help cut down on that, but a togruta’s hearing was biologically complex and I had long ago been advised by Master Shaak Ti to not speed things up too much if something like this was to happen. Push things too fast and I risked completely changing the delicate structures, as a result influencing what frequencies I perceived, skewing them unnaturally or even permanently deafening me to certain frequencies of sound.

I moved on from my head to the rest of my body and found the healing remnants of surface tissue and skin damage all along my back, butt and legs. I must’ve been one huge bruise when they dropped me in this tank. Yes, a few broken ribs too, one of which had nearly pierced through a lung, ouch. That had been reset and was nicely on its way to a full recovery. There were also a few clear shrapnel wounds, which had been removed and were now just fresh scars.

All in all, if I had to judge, I’d been in this tank for nearly three days.

I refused to panic further, as thoughts of what other bloody assassins could have joined the little convention we were holding for them arose, thanks to Ziro the Hutt. They would have to go through the premiere assassin droid intelligence of the galaxy, who’d be very motivated, especially after his own master was incapacitated, an even more motivated RNSF and the entire security apparatus of Alderaan.

I sensed Padme was fine, though obviously she had also suffered from the overpressure, getting a severe case of bleeding eardrums, bruising from my tackle and hard contact with the floor of that balcony.

She was currently in a large building somewhere on the north side of Aldera, in a very luxurious apartment or guest room, a bit of Farsight… oh, it was the palace of the Prince of Alderaan. Next to her was HK, Typho and Master Sinube!

The old cosian Jedi got a small, knowing smile on his face.

Oh, of course he’d sense that my attention was on them.

“Well, it seems we have good news, senator,” Sinube said, wearily getting up from a seat and using his cane. “Our padawan has awoken.”

Padme whirled on him, “That’s…” She paused, visibly calming herself. “That’s very good news, Master Sinube.”

She was looking as breathtaking as ever. You’d never know that she’d had a bacta dunk herself to fix her ears and bruising just days before. I pulled back and refocused on my immediate surroundings. The building I was in was definitely a hospital, but I was in an isolated and secure wing, judging by the amount of security personnel and how fortified it was. It was a place I imagined Bail Organa himself would get any medical attention he required. The hospital was also barely a stone’s throw from the palace itself.

My bacta tank was also the only one in the room, and it was tended by two medical droids that buzzed around the room’s various panels, controls and medical instruments. Currently, the tank was encased in a privacy shield, which unfortunately had the effect of letting me see nothing beyond it. Really, how difficult would it have been to make the inside of the physical shield a conformal screen that at least showed what was going on outside to the patient.

They probably didn’t bother because usually patients were unconscious when in full bacta immersion and raised the shield when they woke up.

The droids hadn’t been expecting me to wake up, given that they were used to dealing with non-Jedi. Just as I thought that, the shield rose up, letting me see the room with my own eyes.

‘Finally detected my increased brainwave activity,’ I thought with irritation. The med droids began truly buzzing about and started to inject further medication directly into the tank for me to absorb.

One of them was a silvery GH-7 medical analysis droid with huge green photoreceptors, that hovered about and from its third arm, held up a large screen datapad towards my tank.

‘How are you feeling, padawan?’

How did the thing expect me to answer?

A pad lowered itself into view, just a few centimeters from my face with a full Aurebesh keyboard and screen on it.

Right.

I figured it would not be happy with just a ‘Fine’ answer, so I took the time to type out a full explanation of how I felt, including my own self-diagnosis through the Force.

‘It would be best if your medical diagnosis were left to me, padawan.’

I could almost imagine the droid’s snippy tone, especially as I could tell from its body language that it did not appreciate my ‘amateur’ diagnosis. I found it rather amazing that the GH-7’s had emotive expressions encoded in its subroutines to that extent. Unlike the med droids at the Jedi Temple, these ones wouldn’t have any notion or programming regarding the Force or how to specifically treat Jedi.

‘Fine, then how long will I remain in this tank?’

‘You’re scheduled for at least another day, padawan.’

If I was actually talking to this blasted droid I’d have started an argument about it, but it wasn’t worth typing it out.

‘Does this thing connect to the Holonet at least?’

I gestured at the datapad in front of me.

‘It can. However, I’ve disabled such a connection. Any patient must avoid undue stress and given what records I can access about you, Padawan Tano, you need to relax and not worry about the outside world at the moment.’

I was very sorely tempted to practice my Force Crush, but let the petty anger go.

‘Fine.’

‘If you need anything further, just type it in. I am constantly monitoring your pad.’

I’m sure he was. Just so I wouldn’t slice or hack the thing to give me Holonet access. It lowered its third arm and hovered to the side of the room and all the terminals there to do more med droid things.

I closed my eyes, expanding my senses via Farsight… there had to be someone in this hospital watching something.

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It turned out, when you were on the planet renowned for all its culture and artistry, that its population would generally be rather enthusiastic about it. Every holoscreen in every hospital room or ward, in front of every patient who had nothing to do but lie in bed, heal and pass the time was tuned to watching something artsy.

If it wasn’t classic Alderani music, which had a greater preponderance of wind and string instruments with only few percussion, then it was shows about fine art or sculpture. There was even one show that I ended up getting rather mesmerized by, which was like the Alderani version of Bob Ross. Only this artist was a rather pleasant old lady named Eirshu Dran, who specialized in painting the many beautiful natural vistas of Alderaan and tried to get you to paint along.

The patient who was watching this, was a man in his middle ages who looked like he had been in a nasty accident that had broken both his legs, as both appendages had been encased in cylindrical blue containers that constantly circulated bacta. The guy even had another holoscreen open and was using a painting program to follow along with Dran’s instructions.

His effort was commendable, but it clearly wasn’t his day job and I wouldn’t want it to adorn any wall I looked at.

I was still watching the painter five episodes later when I picked up on Padme entering the hospital.

A few minutes later the GH-7 droid was back to announce that I had visitors and if I wished to see them.

I firmly tapped in YES on my pad, whilst glaring at the droid. It was naturally unaffected by my hostility and simply hovered over to the door to let them in.

Padme was the first to enter, followed by HK, Typho and a hobbling Sinube. She stopped at the other side of the transparent tank and looked at me with deep concern. I even felt her trying to poke at the bond. I only smiled at her in return, sending her my feelings of heartfelt thanks.

The GH-7 hovered over to give the pad that would let them communicate with me. Padme took it with thanks, but Master Sinube held up a hand to pause her, he said something which I couldn’t really make out since I wasn’t adept at reading cosian lips. It wasn’t difficult to deduce though.

Then I felt the master reach out to me through the Force.

I met his mental handshake, sending out one of my own, which he readily accepted.

“Master Sinube, thank you for coming.” I thought towards him.

“Padawan Tano, it’s good to see you on the mend. You gave many quite a scare there.”

I could well imagine. A montral collapse was not pleasant to look at and I probably bled all over Padme. Sinube’s mental voice was slightly richer and even sounded younger than his physical voice. He truly didn’t let his advanced age affect his mentality.

“Thank you, master. Please tell everyone that I’m sorry about that.”

The old master nodded and dutifully relayed that.

Padme scoffed and pointed a scolding finger at me. I could read her lips well enough to deduce she said something like, ‘Don’t you dare do something like that again.’

I merely smiled in response and shrugged. “Tell her I’d do it again in a second.”

Sinube chuckled and did so.

She didn’t appreciate that and glared at me, folding her arms pointedly.

HK said something at this point.

“Your combat droid says, quote ‘Agreement: Master, I concur with the senator. Statement: Finding a new master will be most vexing, master. Complaint: Oh the annoying fragility of meatbags.’ End quote.”

“Tell HK that I intend to be his longest living master. It will take more than a pithy little explosion like that to kill me.”

Sinube again laughed as he relayed the message.

“The droid says, ‘Statement: Statistically, stating such facts has never resulted in a good outcome, master.’”

I rolled my eyes and waved at the droid in irritation.

“Master, what’s been happening these last three days?”

The old cosian hobbled closer with his cane and looked up at me. “There’s been some developments. Two further assassins have been stopped trying to kill Senator Amidala. One was a clawdite changeling, intercepted at the Aldera spaceport, the other a human bounty hunter from Tatooine, trying his luck with a sniper, only to be counter-sniped by your combat droid.”

I sighed in relief, even as I felt a rising frustration.

“This has to stop, master.”

“Yes, it does. Which is why your own master will be arriving by the end of today. His campaign on Balith has been completed and the few remnants of the CIS sympathizers can be dealt with by the local government.”

“That’s good news, but-”

“Patience, young one. Once you are out of that tank and you’re given a clean bill of health, you both will be heading off to find and confront Ziro. I’m sure that you both will find a way to convince Ziro to stop sending more assassins.”

Padme asked something at this point, probably what we were talking about and Sinube quickly replied.

“That will not be easy, master. How will we even find-”

“Ziro is currently doing what most hutts of his wealth do; eating, drinking and entertaining on Nar Shaddaa.”

“Of course he is,” I thought with a slump of my shoulders. Asking how Sinube actually had confirmation of that was pointless. The old cosian probably had his own network of informants spread across the galaxy’s underworld.

So we had a location, but actually getting to Ziro was an entirely different kettle of fish. He was a former Hutt Cartel council member and not only would Ziro have his own personal protection detail, he’d also have the cartel keeping an eye on him. Whether they would interfere was a bit of a gamble. Ziro had dirt on the cartel, dirt that they wanted to keep hidden, which was the reason they sponsored and aided his escape from Republic prison.

Getting to Nar Shaddaa without alerting Ziro that we were on the way was another little puzzle to solve. I would bet quite a lot that the slug had numerous agents monitoring all the hyperspace approaches to the Nal Hutta system. Approaching openly in any Republic aligned ship and we might as well be waving a huge flag and blowing into trumpets.

“Don’t worry your mind for now about the specifics, padawan,” Sinube thought. “Trust that your master and I will be working hard at it and all you have to do is heal and meditate.”

“Understood master.”

“Now, I sense that the senator is rather anxious to ‘speak’ to you in private, let’s not keep her waiting.”

“Yes, thank you, master.”

Sinube broke our connection, turned around and shooed Typho and HK out of the room.

The moment the door closed Padme dropped her somewhat stoic mask. I had already sensed it, but now she wore her weariness openly and even had to wipe away a tear. She stepped even closer to the tank so that I could see her face clearly through the general murkiness.

I felt her trying to push across the bond, so I bit the bullet and opened it.

“Yes, Padme?”

“I’ve had to bury two protectors who gave their lives for me. Please don’t make yourself the third.”

“I’m a Jedi,” I pointed out.

“Which means you have a duty to the Order, the Republic, not to sacrifice yourself just for me. I’m just one person, a senator for a Mid-Rim backwater sector.”

Oh, she was much more than that, but I couldn’t tell her about the importance she had for the future. She was more than just the mother of Luke and Leia. She was the wife of Anakin and through that she could potentially shape the course of galactic history.

“The smallest pebble can begin the greatest avalanche, Padme.”

“There you go again, the wise, cryptic visionary,” she complained in annoyance.

“I’m fully within my rights to act this way, you know?”

“Yes I do, Miss Centenarian. I still have a ton of questions about that.”

“You can ask, but I suggest you begin typing into the datapad, so we can hold some inane conversation. Us two just staring at each other will begin to look suspicious at some point.”

“Ah, good point.”

She began typing, a question again asking if I was sure I was feeling well.

“So, were you married?”

“Yes, I was. Rather happily for a time.”

“Children?”

“One, a boy, economic problems at the time meant that having any more was just unaffordable.”

She nodded in understanding as we continued the typed convo.

“Have you figured out when you were alive relative to now?”

“You mean a date?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately not. I have tried, but to quote someone much wiser than me, time is more than just a linear progression of cause to effect. It’s more like an infinite branching fractal at the scale we are talking about. Even my Prescience is like an old woman with an ancient set of glasses squinting at what is in front of her nose.”

“So I shouldn’t even try to understand, when even you can’t?”

“For your own peace of mind, Padme, I won’t even try to put words to this.”

“Fine. Your son, what was his name?”

“Why do you want to know? It’s utterly pointless and will mean nothing to you.”

“Doesn’t it mean something to you?”

“At this point, no. I have died, Padme. He and my family from that life are all gone, their bodies dust, their spirits moved on, as I have moved on to this life. All that matters now is this existence.”

She kept up her questions about that life, until she managed to surmise that I had been human.

“Really?”

“Yes, flesh matters not to the spirit. It is but the vessel we use in this plane of existence to experience and influence it.”

“Was it difficult to adapt?”

“No, no more than what any togruta infant and child goes through.”

I was about to type further in our pretend conversation, which had moved on to speaking about the finer points of dejarik, when the pad shut itself down.

The GH-7 approached and began speaking. I managed to glean from Padme’s mind that visiting time was officially over.

The pad switched on again. ‘Visiting hours are over,” she typed.

“Thank you for the visit, Padme.”

“Now you relax, meditate and don’t worry about me, I’m in good hands.”

“I will.”

The pad shut down again, she waved at me with another breathtaking smile and walked out of the room. I made sure to look up into my own tank and not give in to the temptation to look at her butt as her dress swished about.

I tapped the pad to get GH-7s attention.

“Yes, padawan?”

“Can you lower the temperature a bit in here?”

“Padawan, you should know that bacta must always be matched to the body temperature of the person inside it.”

“Just checking.”

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Despite my determination to be awake for Anakin’s arrival, a bacta tank was just too comfortable and watching Alderani broadcast entertainment was not conducive to keeping awake. The closest thing it got to being exciting or dramatic was a nature documentary on the life cycle of the thranta. Not a single person in the entire hospital had watched an action, drama or anything that got the blood pumping or an edge of your seat thriller. I recognized that it was generally bad for patients to get ‘stressed’ in any way, but seriously, even the pediatric section of the hospital had kids watching artsy shows.

The end result; I was fully asleep when the evening visitation hours arrived.

When I awoke grumpily at one in the morning and got my bearings, I instantly knew he was on the planet.

I mentally slammed shut both his bond and Padme’s.

“And of course they’re knocking boots,” I grumbled in annoyance to myself.

The pad within my tank was flashing for my attention. I tapped it and got a message from GH-7 that I was clear to take in solid nutrition again and should do so when I awoke. The big button named ‘Dispense’ was the obvious candidate, so I pressed it.

A small opening above me irised open and a bottle with a specialized straw dropped. I felt my breathing mask for the port that would let me insert it and annoyingly found it on the left side. Every bacta tank at the Temple had that on the right hand side.

I finally managed after a bit of fumbling and could feel the straw with my tongue and squeezed the bottle.

The concoction that hit my taste buds was genuinely awful. Would it kill them to add a little bit of flavoring to a liquidized protein? I bore the taste though because my stomach was really appreciating actually doing something and not having its function circumvented artificially by the tank.

When every last bit was squeezed from the bottle, I had another fumbling session to remove the straw without getting any bacta leakage through my mask. Fortunately, I managed that successfully and shoved the empty bottle upward towards the hole, a mechanical claw arm that belonged to a FX series medical droid grabbed it and the gap closed.

The satisfaction of a relatively full stomach hit me and there must’ve been yet more medication in the food because not even half an hour later I was pulled down into the land of sleep again.

When my eyes next blinked open it was to regard a very stern looking Anakin Skywalker outside my tank and he was impatiently walking back and forth. He was oddly in his newly upgraded Aegis armor, minus the helmet, but in retrospect it was probably a good idea given all the assassination shenanigans.

I pinged him across the bond and opened it.

He stopped his pacing and gave me an exasperated look.

“Snips,” he thought to me.

“Skyguy.” Briefly, I sensed two large parts of him in conflict; one side wanted to scold me, the other wanted to profusely thank me for saving his wife. However, both clearly came from the same place and emotion. “No problem, Skyguy. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I’m going to get you both back for that prank, somehow,” he promised, pointing an accusing finger at me with a mock angry look on his face.

“Oooh, I’m shaking in my bacta tank, Skyguy,” I thought back sarcastically, smirking.

“Just you wait,” he gave me an evil grin, which was actually quite convincing. If I hadn’t been able to sense his true emotions, I’d be quite worried.

“So what’s the plan?”

“For now, getting you out of that tank. The med droids gave the all clear for that to happen as soon as you woke up.”

“It's about kriffing time. I was getting a bit stir crazy in here, Skyguy. That GH-7’s bedside manner needs an adjustment in my opinion.”

I felt my tank shudder and could see above me the entire upper cover opening and a 2-1B med droid modified with grasping five fingered hands ready to help me up and out. I tested and flexed every muscle in my body briefly before kicking off from the bottom of the tank and pushing myself through the bacta, including the use of an awkward swimming stroke with my arms.

My head breached the upper surface and tank, into the upper level of the room. Up here it had a lot of servicing equipment and huge tanks for the circulation of bacta.

The droid offered me a hand, but I waved it off and pulled myself out. It was a struggle though. My body had gotten used to being in full immersion, and gravity felt as if it had doubled, though that was just a physical illusion that would go away as my muscles got used to it again.

The 2-1B disconnected the tubing from my tech-diaper and pointed at my mask.

I felt for the clips, unlatched them, before pulling the whole thing from my face and the breathing regulator out of my mouth.

“Argh,” I winced as my mouth, especially my tongue, felt pain at the sudden absence of the foreign thing the soft tissues had grown used to. I was also acutely aware of my deafness at that moment, as I knew I had used my vocal chords, but my montrals received no feedback. That disconnect was going to push my speaking all over the place.

The droid let me take a minute to recover and get used to sitting before approaching again and offering its hands for me to stand.

I took it up on its offer and shakily got onto my feet.

The world started to swivel a bit as my balance and the internal senses that reported to my brain, got used to it again. I kept a firm hold on the droid, bringing my right hand to its shoulder for further support.

Another thing that they never showed in my previous life, detanking and the consequences of a full immersion bacta bath. Already the residual bacta clinging to me was drying out and starting to make me look like I had the worst case of dried out skin and it was starting to itch something fierce.

The droid walked with me in a circle until I was confident enough to retain my own balance, then I walked on my own for a few minutes until I was satisfied I wouldn’t keel over randomly.

Next was the awkward and unpleasant experience of removing the diaper. It unlatched at my hips and instead of gingerly fiddling, I just pulled it down quickly and got it over with. Then handed it off to the droid. I stretched and pulled off the boob tube next and just dumped it on the floor, before making a beeline for the obviously marked shower.

I indulged myself in a nice hot flow and got busy scrubbing the dried bacta off every inch of my skin.

When I emerged the 2-1B was hovering forward a small cart that had a full set of my typical Jedi outfit on it.

“Thank you,” I said automatically and again winced at what my words must sound like. I could literally feel myself bungling the pronunciation and putting out too much air through my vocal chords to actually say the words.

Fully dressed I walked down the small flight of stairs and emerged into the lower room.

I reached out with TK and summoned my lightsabers to me as Anakin held them out.

With them clipped to my belt, I felt the beginnings of normalcy return.

“Ready?” he thought.

I nodded and we exited the tank room and into a hallway of the secure wing of the hospital. There were only ASF guards, med droids and the occasional doctor doing the rounds as we walked.

“We’re leaving for Nar Shaddaa just after lunch.”

“What ship are we using?”

“The Xanadu.”

“Master, please tell me-”

“Relax Snips, the Temple engineers have done their usual amazing job. It doesn’t look at all like an ‘ugly’ anymore.”

“Really? Wow, I can’t really imagine how one would go about that.”

“That’s why you’re a Jedi and not a starship engineer, Snips.”

“Okay, so we’ll get to Nar Shaddaa undetected. What about the rest of the plan?”

We emerged from the secure wing into public areas of the hospital and now started to see more people and families moving about, visiting their loved ones.

“Master Sinube’s contacts are still working on tracking down a precise location for Ziro, we’ll get something to work with by the time we arrive. So at the moment we have a plan… to get a plan.”

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The Xanadu Blood was parked on a private landing pad of the expansive palace of Prince Organa.

Walking through the grounds of the palace was an experience in itself. It was a royal garden that had a few thousand years of tending and careful planting of exquisite specimens of every beautiful flora the planet had to offer. Trumpet shaped, violet aralutte flowers were tended to in artfully arranged beddings, mixed with beds of yellow gingerbell flowers that made your eyes just want to stare at them forever.

The walking paths were lined with red hydenock trees that naturally curved overhead and provided shade to those who walked under them. Even the shape of the shade on the ground formed very interesting artistic patterns to look at. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were designed to form different shapes depending on the time of day.

The largest plants on the palace grounds were kriin. A thick trunked, dark colored tree that reminded me of oaks, but these were manicured to the level of bonsai trees by gardeners who floated around them on small platforms. They formed all manner of shapes from them and for others let them branch naturally.

When the Xanadu finally came into view, I was quite amazed.

Anakin was dead right, the Temple engineers had produced a beauty.

Far from looking like a fighter that had a spherical 4 man passenger hull jammed on its nose, now it was pushed back and centered perfectly between the main engine nacelles, with the connecting struts smoothly molding to the passenger section as if a sculptor had worked on it. The nacelles themselves were also enlarged to accommodate more powerful engines. It still had its intimidating green paint job with triangular shapes of red and yellow. It had also lost its two laser cannons completely. The only weapons I could see off hand was an integrated concussion missile launcher that sat to the right of the passenger section.

“Skyguy, that is one very pretty and intimidating ship. Has the power to weight issue been solved?”

“Of course, she has her old speed back, 1200 kph in atmosphere. She’ll do roughly 2600G in space. It’s got a missile launcher starboard and a rapid fire, articulating, rotary blaster cannon that pops out from a panel on the port side.”

I gasped and smiled pleadingly at him, “Please tell me it can double as an anti-missile system?”

“The engineers at the Temple did take my notes when working on her, Snips, so yes.”

I pumped a clenched fist in victory. “Hyperspace range?”

“That’s where she suffered a bit, due to all the extra weight. It’s roughly thirty to thirty-five percent less efficient. There is an external drop tank that’s being filled up as we speak by the palace ground crews. It works out to five days of range. We’ll have to refuel at either Kashyyyk or Randon Run.”

“Does it also have thief countermeasures?”

“Of course,” Anakin grinned. “Anyone messing with the Xanadu on Nar Shaddaa will quickly regret it. It’s the same droid intelligence controlled system as the Twilight. Now that you’ve finished slobbering over the ship, Prince Organa wants to have a light early lunch with us before we leave.”

“I did not slobber!” I thought in annoyance.

He just gave me a mild sarcastic smile, “Whatever you say, Snips.”

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That was how I found myself sitting at a truly humongous kriin-wood table that was so polished I could almost see my own reflection staring back at me. The equally massive room to house this table was clearly used for state dinners where the usual guest list would be in the hundreds. The walls were surprisingly spartan though, with only light strips and perfectly spaced, traditionally painted portraits of the Organa monarchs throughout the ages.

Prince Bail was seated with his wife at the head of the table, whilst Padme sat to the right of the prince. I got to sit next to the queen, opposite Padme, whilst Anakin sat right next to me. HK and Typho stood against the wall nearby, being ever vigilant despite the fact that the room was currently the most secure place on the planet at the moment.

Naturally, I heard nothing of the conversation being had between everyone, so I was trying out my lip reading skills and I had a datapad with a speech to text program on the table next to me. Padme had done her research and acquired nearly every readily available aid to help those with deafness.

Lip reading was a very imprecise thing, especially when the language being used started to become complex. At the moment, the best I could do on that front was just recognize when my name was spoken and a smattering of words here and there. My pad also helped here, where it would visibly alert me when my name was spoken.

I could technically also use Anakin to be my voice, but I didn’t want to burden him with that. So I stuck with the datapad to show I was appreciative of Padme’s efforts. When I had to speak, the pad also had a text to speech function, letting me type out what I wanted to say.

Prince Bail raised a hand to get my attention and spoke.

‘Padawan, it’s good to see you recovered so well.’

My right hand tapped out the answer rapidly. ‘The credit must go to your excellent medical facilities on Alderaan.’

‘We do our best.’ The prince shrugged humbly. A duo of chefs entered the room, each carrying two huge trays with dishes on them. As the dishes were presented and put in front of us, I realized we were going to eat in a fashion that my previous life would call ‘Eastern’. An array of dishes which we pick and choose from to put on our plates, in whatever proportions we liked. The only thing missing was steamed rice, chopsticks and green tea.

Bail was the first to put food on his plate, then he put a selection on Breha’s plate. At that point, the rest of us were free to help ourselves.

I chose a bit of everything meaty on offer.

It didn’t surprise me that gastronomy was also considered an artform on this planet. Each bite of meat melted in my mouth; juicy, oily flavors emerged and each meat had different textures that never failed to leave me wanting for more. If this is what Bail ate daily in the palace, it was a wonder that he wasn’t overweight.

Drinks came next and I simply ordered some water from the chef, who I sensed found it almost insulting that I was asking for something so simple.

‘Knight Skywalker, I wish you success on your mission to Nar Shaddaa,’ Baid said, raising a glass of something alcoholic and spicy.

‘Thank you, Prince.’

‘I hope that you can find a way to reason with Ziro, though pragmatism tells me that is somewhat of a forlorn hope.’

Anakin put down his knife and fork, ‘That is true. In my own experience, a hutt just does not forgive any slight. He’ll rescind the bounties on Senator Amidala over his own dead body. Even then, it’s possible he’s left behind time-delayed contracts to a neutral party that will pay out, such as with one of the Banking Clans.’

‘So the only way to truly end this, is to somehow get Ziro to rescind the contracts himself,’ Bail nodded.

‘That is what we are planning, but how to accomplish this is something that has eluded us so far.’

That conundrum had been percolating in my brain for most of the day.

You couldn’t Force Trick or Persuade a hutt. You’d need a hutt Jedi to even try and I could vaguely recall reading that the last Jedi to come from the species was over six hundred years ago. They could theoretically be alive but it was on my to-do list to research deeper into it during the voyage.

So you had to somehow conventionally persuade them.

Somehow get through that instinctual petty spite that would inspire them to resort to murder for the slightest affront.

What did a hutt value the most?

Their own life was the easy answer.

So did we just walk up to Ziro, brandish our lightsabers and say ‘Rescind the assassination contracts or die!’

That was ridiculous. We’d have to slice our way through Ziro’s entire security retinue at that point. An entire moon of hutt security thugs and scum would descend down on us. Whilst the Hutt Council would be privately celebrating, they couldn’t let us casually murdering such a well known and wealthy hutt go unanswered.

I stared morosely into the water of my glass, when a notion hit me.

Could that work?

I pulled out my other datapad, linked up to the Holonet and began typing out a message. Then sent it off before quickly putting it away again.

My translator pad was blinking and everyone was looking at me.

I reviewed the recorded conversation… yeah, that was embarrassing. I had zoned out in thought and had not responded to even my pad flashing. Anakin had said, ‘She does this sometimes.’

I bowed in apology, then typed.

‘Sorry, Prince Organa, just researching something that occurred to me.’

He nodded graciously, accepting the apology, ‘I was going to say that the House of Organa and the people of Alderaan would expect me to at the very least reward you in some fashion. Your efforts have brought to light a conspiracy that would’ve destroyed countless families and plunged the planet into chaos not seen since the ancient Sith occupied our world. I hear from Padme that Naboo has awarded you land and title for preventing the Blue Shadow virus outbreak.’

Oh no. As much as I wanted to interrupt and stop him, you did not do that to a monarch in his own palace. You smiled, nodded in agreement, accepted whatever he offered and dealt with the consequences afterward.

He smiled at me, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘She also explained that you have quite enough of that on your plate, especially as you are a Mandalorian land holder as well as a clan head. You really have to explain one day to me how that happened, ideally over some steamed Alderaani spice wine.’

I typed, “Certainly, your serene highness.”

‘So if land or title is off the table and I know Jedi don’t care about money, then I can do only one thing. Ahsoka Tano, from this point, you are a friend of House Organa and Alderaan, one who will always be welcome on this world. Should you wish to claim citizenship of this world, that is open to you as well. The door to my house will always be open to you.’

There was really only one thing to say to that. He had literally given me the local equivalent of a ‘key to the city’ award.

‘Thank you, highness. One day, I will definitely take you up on that. You might come to regret it, I always seem to bring interesting times to the people of the planets I visit.’

‘Let’s hope that those interesting times will be good then, rather than bad.’

Of everything I’d seen of Alderaan, it only reaffirmed my resolve. That a place so beautiful and with so much culture and heritage could be so cruelly snuffed out in the future…

It didn’t matter that it was a future Princess Leia’s homeworld and Tarkin ordered the Death Star to fire just to get her to betray the location of the Rebellion’s primary cell. Alderaan was a symbol. It was an ancient founding member of the Republic. Its destruction was envisaged as a warning to the rest of the galaxy, a final closing of the book on the Republic. If the Empire dawned, Alderaan would fall. Somehow, Palpatine would find a way to use his new planet buster on it anyway.

If I didn’t somehow stop Palpatine’s New Order from dawning, then this planet was dead.

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The Xanadu Blood climbed through the atmosphere and was soon in the cold embrace of space.

Anakin was naturally at the controls and engaged full thrust to accelerate us into a shortest time course to leave Alderaan’s mass shadow and arrive at the Tyed Kant hyperspace point. Our first stop along the Commenor Run hyperspace lane.

Traffic was substantial enough that we were forced into a queue, as the Commenor was the most efficient route for those who wanted to travel from Coruscant towards the Trellen Trade Route. So even though it would only take less than three minutes to travel to the hyper point, we had at least a twenty minute wait before we could engage our hyperdrive.

I could sense that Anakin had a distinct bee in his bonnet and that he was very reluctant to talk about it.

‘Skyguy, this is going to be a very long eight days in tight quarters, say it.’

‘So… you love, Padme.’

‘Yes.’

He studied me for a moment before turning his gaze back to the void of space. ‘Well, I suppose I can understand. It happened to me after all,’ his thoughts were rueful. “And to me…”

‘You are my master, Anakin. I am your padawan. As long as these beads are dangling from my head, we will be that, we will be close friends, brother and sister in arms. We have and will shed blood together. We will trust each other. My love for you is of a different kind than romantic or of the flesh. However, love is like anything in the universe, it can change.’

‘Do you foresee that?’

‘Master, I foresee many probabilities, some more likely than others.’

‘Do you see us becoming more?’

Oh, why didn’t he just say it plainly, as if this wasn’t already difficult enough. ‘Yes, though the chances aren’t good.’

He nodded and smirked at me, ‘Now that, even I can foresee.’ I slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Ow, what? You need a bit more growing up, Snips, before it’d even be on the table. Just telling the truth.’

I rolled my eyes and gave him an unimpressed look, ‘You males.’

‘Yet you females still love us.’ He laughed outright.

‘Force knows why,’ I groused in mock anger, folding my arms with a huff of annoyance.

‘So you’re dya?’

‘I’m attracted to those who are attractive, Skyguy. Flesh matters not. I prefer males but Padme…’ I gave him a pointed look.

‘Yes,’ he said with complete understanding. ‘By the way, in the future, I’d prefer that you at least inform me across the bond when something like this is happening to Padme.’

I gave him a narrowed eye stare, ‘You’re telling me you’d be able to keep your focus in the moment, your decision-making rational, knowing Padme is in mortal peril, whilst you’re thousands of light years away?’

‘I’d like to think you would trust me to be able to, Snips. I’ve been down this road before with Padme.’

‘Understood, Master. If such a situation arises again, I will be completely honest and forthright about it.’

‘And I feel I should say… Thank you for finding a way to realize the bond. It means a lot to Padme. I didn’t truly know her anguish and loneliness, knowing that I was fighting, risking my life every day, but not knowing if she would one day get the message that I’d done some foolish stunt and died…’

‘But now you do.’

‘And she’s just a thought away now,’ he smiled softly.

Yeah, having your wife on a mystical Force speed dial would be awesome. He wouldn’t have to worry anymore about vaguely worded encrypted letters.

‘Speaking of, there are a number of techniques, benefits and dangers about bonds that I have to teach you, Skyguy.’

‘We’ll have plenty of time for that on the trip ahead, it’s our turn to jump.’

He grabbed the hyperdrive motivator throttle and pushed it forward.

The Xanadu accelerated hard, stretched itself briefly and plunged into the infinite misty blue tunnel of hyperspace.

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A/N: And off to Nar Shaddaa we go! Been eagerly looking forward to writing something that takes place on the smuggler's moon.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 15

“Dad!”

“Ooof, easy there, little owl,” he winced visibly in pain.

I backed off from the hug like I’d been scalded with hot water. “Are you hurt? Of course, you are. What a stupid question.”

Pitter closed the door to Coil’s office and had an amused smile on his face. “He was roughed up by one of the mercs. Your father has a number of bruised ribs, the obvious black eye and he might want to see a dentist about some teeth that were knocked loose.”

Dad nodded, though he glared briefly at Pitter, as he rubbed his wrists from the visible bruising from straining against handcuffs,  “That’s true. Nothing I’m unfamiliar with though, given my misspent youth on the docks. Probably gonna need a crown or implant replacement.” He gave Coil’s office a scan and his eyes flashed as he saw the villain himself sitting absolutely still on a basic chair against the wall. “So you mastered him?”

“Yes, he’ll sit there quietly, until I order him to get up,” I said, also glaring. “I’ve also got the two mercs outside and I’ve hypnotized Mr. Pitter here to my side as thoroughly as I could. So he could come and fetch you, whilst leaving my range.” Just in case, I pulled Pitter’s mind back into my web anyway. I still wasn’t confident in my hypnotism, since it relied on verbal orders and there might be loopholes for betrayal I had missed.

“Good,” Dad said. He took a few steps forward, I saw his aura flash with rage, before he unleashed a punch directly into Coil’s stomach that doubled over the villain, causing his breath to explode out of his lungs. He followed it up with an elbow delivered to Coil’s jaw that sent the villain sprawling to the floor, gasping and groaning in pain.

Dad visibly reigned himself in, turned around in disgust at both Coil and himself, then stepped back. “Sorry, you had to see that, little owl.”

“I totally understand,” I said, though I wouldn’t deny it was a shock to see dad committing any act of violence. He had the family’s temper, but always kept it on a very short leash. He had never released it in the house and would sooner kill himself before unleashing it on mom.

He looked around the office again, “So what are you going to do, Taylor? We’re still technically trapped here and I don’t think the rest of the mercs are just gonna let us walk out of here.”

“I’ve had a few ideas, but I was hoping to brainstorm with you.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Get all of them in a room, master them, then hypnotize them.”

“To do what exactly?”

I sighed, “That’s the part I’m still not sure about. Dad, do you realize what an opportunity this is? Considering the very huge problem facing us.”

He folded his arms and looked up into the ceiling, then he glanced at Coil who was still wheezing on the floor. “You want to keep him? Control all his assets, the money, the mercs?” He said the last one, whilst giving me a knowing, pointed look.

Yes, that had been one of the first things to pop into my mind. I now potentially had a base full of fifty odd hunky mercs just waiting to serve me and have sex with. It was also a place where we could now safely house SCPs, including Henry, who could have the full run of the place, instead of being stuck in a boring warehouse.

I nodded, “Dad, we need to do this. You remember some of the threats and objects Henry talked about. The stuff we couldn’t trust the government or PRT with if they showed up?”

He rubbed his temple, wincing at the headache he was dealing with. I’d have ordered Pitter to bring some painkillers, but I wasn’t willing to trust dad’s care to the guy. “I see your point, Taylor. The issue is that you’ll be inheriting all of Coil’s problems. He didn’t get to his position without stepping on a lot of toes, I imagine. Is that something you’re prepared to do?”

I turned to Coil, “On the chair, you’ve had enough time to recover.”

“Yes mistress,” Coil grimaced and returned to his spot.

“Part of me just wants to call the PRT and let them deal with this mess,” I admitted. “But… I just can’t, dad. If that’s the price I have to pay to keep our universe safe and in one piece, then I’ll do it.”

“If I may suggest something, mistress?” Pitter spoke up.

“You may.”

“Coil currently has 55 mercenaries in his employ. They are generally like me in terms of employment. All of us are legitimate employees of Fortress Construction LLC, Coil’s civilian persona is the CEO and sole shareholder of the private company, which is how our salaries and benefits are structured for the benefit of the IRS. It’s all above board. I’m not sure how old you are, mistress-”

“I turn nineteen in four months.”

“I see, therefore you can sign a contract legally. My suggestion is that you have Coil either give you a majority share of the company or your father, appointing him as CEO and then Coil officially ‘retires’ with a nest egg. In that way, you become the de facto owner of Fortress and with it the purse strings and mercenary employment contracts are yours.”

“Will the mercs accept that?” Dad asked pointedly.

“As I said, they are like me, Coil therefore has some form of leverage on each of them. So they are not only loyal to a paycheck, but also because betrayal will lead to that skeleton in their closet being released by Coil. That is leverage you will also inherit. You will find it all on Coil’s personal off-site server, which he has access to from his home and this office.”

“I won’t be party to blackmail,” Dad shook his head. “Given the task we have ahead of us, I want employees that’ll work because they’re defending their very existence in this universe, not because they have some Sword of Damocles hovering over their heads.”

“I must admit to some curiosity about this threat you claim,” Pitter frowned at us.

“You’ve seen the train?” I asked with a sigh.

“Of course, it made national news, it was most vexing to Coil for some reason.”

“There’s more threats like it, they don’t originate from this universe and more are inevitably on the way,” I said shortly, not really feeling like explaining further at the moment.

“I see, mistress, your word is truth to me,” Pitter said devotionally. “In that case, I must advise you to review everything Coil has on the mercenary’s personnel files. There are some of them that rightly belong in jail or even death row for their crimes.”

“You’re telling me Coil employed psychos as mercs?” Dad asked in alarm.

“One or two could fit that profile,” Pitter admitted. “Coil kept them on a very close watch, but they were useful for when he had to order some unpleasant things done.”

Dad rubbed his face wearily as he digested that fact. “If we’re going to do this, I need to review those files…”

I blinked in astonishment, “You’re agreeing, dad?”

“We’ll take it one step at a time, little owl.” He stepped behind the mass of computer monitors on Coil’s desk and looked rather intimidated by the complexity of the entire setup. “Get that bastard over here, Taylor. We need to both sit down and read this, including everything he’s planning.”

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Going through the personnel files of 55 people might be old hat to dad, but it was entirely new to me. It was rather astonishing the level of detail that Coil had on the details and lives of his employees.

“This is rather more invasive than you’d typically see in legitimate business,” he explained. “It seems like he definitely had each of them investigated by a PI at least for these bits.” He pointed to a section of the file being displayed on the screen.

“It was rather more than just that, mistress,” Pitter offered.

“Oh, what did he do?” I asked curiously, giving a glance at Coil’s aura. I didn’t take a chance at giving him a single moment outside of my mind web, despite my hypnotism. He was still docile and aroused, something very obvious in his tight costume.

“He hasn’t told me details of how his power works, he likes to say that he can ‘control destiny’, or some such nonsense but I’ve long since figured out that it’s a form of precognition. There is no other explanation for how can know some of the things he does.”

“Coil, explain your power,” I ordered.

“At once, mistress,” he said eagerly. “It’s in fact, a hyper accurate simulation power. From my own point of view, I can live in two timelines, collapsing and branching off the simulated timeline at will. Making different decisions or taking actions in the simulated timeline and observing the results.”

I tried to wrap my head around that and the computing power that would be required to simulate a universe and the scanning hardware needed to first take a scan of the true universe… wait…

“Is this only from your own point of view? You can’t, for example, know what’s happening on Jupiter or on the other side of the planet?”

“Yes, my point of view only, mistress. I would need to rely on traditional information gathering methods in the simulated timeline.”

I let out a breath of relief, yes, that was slightly more plausible.

Dad frowned in suspicion at Coil, his mouth thinning. “Ask him what information gathering methods he used in that timeline?”

“You heard my father. Answer.”

“At once, mistress. I used traditional and extraordinary methods. Naturally, people don’t want to divulge their secrets willingly. Therefore, I would interrogate them in the simulated timeline.”

“And what form would this interrogation take?” I asked, feeling dread.

“Waterboarding, pain inducement, nail removal, low level electrocution-”

“Fuck, stop! Are you fucking crazy?”

“Not as far as I’m aware, mistress. My last psych evaluation from the PRT was in the normal range.”

I was thrown for a loop for a second. “The PRT? Why would they give you a psych eval?”

“I was in the PRT, mistress. I led strike teams. Now I’m a high level, high security clearance consultant for the local PRT ENE branch.”

I met dad’s eyes and was gratified to note there were equal levels of astonishment there. He rubbed his forehead wearily. “So let me get this straight, you’re Coil, a villain, mastermind, yet your day job is as a consultant for the PRT?”

“Answer him,” I ordered, when the villain stayed stoically silent.

“Yes, mistress. That is correct.”

“So you’re technically on both sides, with fingers in many pies; criminal, legal business and now even law enforcement,” I said, and it was ridiculous that he could even keep all those ventures straight in his head. Of course, with his power, he would be simulating timelines where he would test things and learn their outcomes, then apply that to the real world.

“Again, correct.”

“We can’t be distracted,” said dad into the silence that followed. “We need to sort out these mercs. First category, those we want to ideally keep on board. Second category, those we should let go with proper compensation. Third category, the psycho killers who we have to get off this base and into BBPD custody somehow.”

“Why the second category?” I asked curiously.

“There’ll be those who won’t want to continue due to the ‘change’ in management. Simple as that. They’ll be the ones doing this not just for the paycheck, but for a variety of other reasons. It could be ideological or perhaps Coil was going to do them some favor that only he could do, but which we now wouldn’t.”

“Okay, got it. We need to be careful with those as well though. They could turn around and sell info on Coil’s operations to the highest bidder or even hench themselves out again.”

Dad groaned in frustration, “I keep forgetting we’re not really in a legit business environment here. Generally, we would’ve used an NDA to shut that possibility down.”

“If you can help with the wording, make it ironclad, I could probably hypnotize an NDA equivalent into them.”

“We’ll work on that after we’ve sorted them.”

“If I could interrupt your perfectly understandable hostile takeover of Coil’s operations,” said Uber’s voice in my ear.

I flinched and put my hand to the Scouter. “I thought I had switched this thing off, Uber. Did you lie to me?” I asked in a dangerous tone.

“No, not at all,” he said hastily. “It was off, it’s just I can remotely switch it back on.”

“How long have you been watching and listening?” I turned my head away from the computer screens.

“Just the last ten or so minutes, honest, dead honest. I know you have a Thinker rating, you’re perfectly welcome to ask me this question again and I’ll answer in person for you to judge.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Now, thanks for all the help again, but what do you want?”

“Firstly, a bit of advice, those psycho mercs, handing them to BBPD is giving them to the E88 on a silver platter. BBPD has Empire sympathizers and moles in it. They’ll break them out even easier than they can from PRT custody. Kaizer would like nothing better than getting info out of them and offering them a job. That cozy hidden base will no longer be hidden at all.”

“So definitely hypnotize them into silence then.”

“Sure, but they’ll still be back on the streets, only now with no outlet for their ‘hobby’. How long before they go serial killer or go on a rampage? As much as Coil had a use for them, so would Kaizer.”

I held my head in my hands as the concept crashed into my brain. If that happened, those deaths would be on my shoulders as surely as if I’d pulled the trigger or stabbed the knife with my own hands. I couldn’t imagine that I could hypnotize them to the extent that they stop being psychos. I glared at Coil… damn him for putting us in this position.

“What exactly do you expect me to do about that Uber?”

“There are no good answers or options here, Escort. Just less shitty ones and what you can live with. My first suggestion, master them, then order Pitter to sedate them and then just never let them wake up. OD them with the sedative.”

“Are you seriously suggesting… That is just as good as killing them myself!”

“Welcome to the true underworld, Escort. Review Coil’s file on them, he probably has a detailed breakdown of what they’ve done and what they’re capable of. You could master them and deliver them to the Feds as well, but that brings up other problems. They’ll quickly interrogate them and once it comes out that they used to work for Coil, then all the info they’ve got falls into the government’s hands. And I bet you they will have a few objections to that underground base, all the weapons, mercs and all of Coil’s money and wealth being in your possession now.”

He was right, they’d take it all and none of it could go towards fighting against SCPs that would show up. If we were lucky, we’d maybe get a standing reward of some kind, but it would be a pittance in comparison.

So on the one hand I had my morality and on the other, the means to hopefully manage the incoming SCPs, the potential survival of the universe. I had to choose one.

What was this?

Just a few months ago, I was a bullied young girl, now I had to be an executioner and do what the government should’ve done with these psychos.

“Little owl,” dad said softly and I felt his hand on my bare shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. I can… make a few calls.”

I turned around and frowned in confusion. Who could dad possibly call that would solve this? That would do our dirty work.

I steeled my resolve. No, I wouldn’t be just another Coil. “Who?”

“Old colleagues from your mother’s days of running with Lustrum.”

“Wow, your mom henched for Lustrum? Damn,” Uber said, sounding both impressed and weary. “I think your dad’s either crazy or got balls of steel.”

I ignored the comment. “It will still be us at the end of the day, dad. We might not be doing the deed, but…”

He turned back to the computer screens and worked with the keyboard and mouse briefly. Coil directory structure wasn’t complex, and while he didn’t outright name things according to function, he did use codewords for various groupings of files. His ‘wetwork’ mercs were collated under the directory called ‘Sparrow’ and as dad opened it up, a total of four files were present inside.

Cooper Allen, Luis Lewis, Tyler Newman, Francisco Klein.

Reading through those four files was horrifying and really made me wonder why I was agonizing over this. They were utter monsters in human form. They could be right there next to the worst SCPs Henry spoke of.

Allen had worn his wife’s head as a hat across two state lines before he was arrested. Later investigation had revealed he had nearly half a dozen murdered wives under different identities behind him. He was only spared the death penalty because he had confessed to those crimes, resolving the cases and bringing closure to the bereaved families. He escaped federal prison after an attack by the Elite villain organization. It caused enough chaos that he was able to sneak out in the confusion. Coil recruited him when Allen had crossed into Massachusetts.

Lewis was actually a professional hitman who had worked for the Mob, with a confirmed kill count in the two dozen. He was actually recommended to Coil by another villain from Boston; Accord.

“Ah ha, there’s a connection,” said Uber in my ear. “Citrine is a cape that works for Accord.”

“So you’re saying he and Coil are what? Associates?”

“Possibly, I know that Accord isn’t someone who just rents out his capes to anyone who asks. This implies a relationship between the two that’s about more than just money. Ask him,” he suggested.

“Coil, what’s your deal with Accord?”

“We are friends after a fashion, as much as anyone can be a friend to Accord, given his neurosis for absolute order, mistress,” he explained eagerly. “Our powers also work rather well together. He’s a Thinker that can make plans to solve nearly anything he puts his mind to - the bigger or more complex the problem, the higher his intelligence jumps to solve it. I can then simulate those actions in my timeline and observe the results. We’ve collaborated a few times. Mistress, did you know that he worked out how to solve world hunger in less than seven hours and typed up the full plan in nine hours.”

“No I did not. I guess the reason why it wasn’t implemented was because it would destabilize something or cost too much?”

“Oh no, mistress. His plan accounted for everything. It was masterful, but he failed to account for the simple fact that the governments don’t want that problem to be solved. A lot of the elements used in the plan would result in localized independence for food production and everything related to that production - such as energy independence for farmers, to name one example. If implemented, it would almost obviate the need for big government structures or aid programs. It would decentralize the world and create resilience to attacks from Endbringers, but powerful interest groups don’t want that.”

I really wanted to break or hit something at that moment. Looking at dad, I could see his aura was also tinged with fury.

We turned our attention back to the Sparrow files. Newman was from Florida and had actually been in the Navy briefly, but was cashiered in military prison when he had snapped during basic training and murdered his drill instructor. He was so psychologically unstable at that point, he had been remanded to a mental institution. There he had been a guinea pig for all sorts of experimental treatments and one had stuck, which provided him enough mental clarity to somewhat function in general society. He had been released with an ankle bracelet to keep track of him, but he was frightfully good with electronics, managing to remove it and elude the authorities. His medication ran out and the inevitable happened. He started a serial killer spree by stabbing nine people and feeding them to alligators. Coil had picked him up when the guy was fleeing north up the east coast.

Finally, Francisco Klein; Coil’s file on him was surprisingly short, but that was simply because Klein had been living on the streets of Brockton from a young age, never leaving a paper trail or even formally enrolling in school. That changed when at seventeen he was found over the body of a homeless woman and charged with her murder. He went to juvie, and from there a judge eventually sent him into the Army. There he got an honorable discharge after a five year stint and worked in private security for a time, when he caught Coil’s attention somehow and offered him employment.

At first, I couldn’t understand why Coil would lump this guy in with the other psychos, but the man’s performance in the field and what he did in simulated timelines when given the opportunity quickly revealed the reason. The guy was an absolute sadist. Instead of just killing the target, he ‘played’ with them; wounding them just enough so they couldn’t outright run, from then on it was a sick game of hunter and wounded prey. In one timeline, Coil had sent the guy to see a psychiatrist, just to see what would happen. Things didn’t go well at all and the psychiatrist was found strung up and flayed the next day. Klein considered himself a hunter, but his preferred prey was people.

“How can the other mercs stand working with these guys?” I asked, my face curled in disgust.

“They don’t know the full details, right?” Dad asked Pitter.

“Correct, Mr Hebert. Coil made sure of that and the other employees are all military men, good enough judges of character for themselves. They know to keep these four at a healthy distance.”

I steeled my resolve, casting away the stupid anxiety taking root in my stomach. I pulled my chair closer to the desk, pulled the keyboard and mouse to me and worked through the operating system to bring up the communications program that Coil used to individually text and send orders to each merc.

Dad put a hand on my arm, causing me to pause. “Little owl…”

“Dad-”

He interrupted me by putting Coil’s very fancy, tricked out pistol on the desk, and keeping his hand over its grip. I didn’t know what model it was or even the caliber, but it looked substantial and intimidating. “You bring them down, keep them still, then I’ll do it.”

“Dad, can you even-”

“Can you?” He retorted. “I just know that I’ll be damned if I don’t do something to protect you, even if it’s to preserve your innocence for just a little longer. I don’t doubt that at some point in the cape business, you’ll have to take a life. It’s inevitable I think, but I don’t want it to be today. Not when I can help it.”

I felt a surge of affection and placed my hand on his.

Then let out a breath and began typing.

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Pitter, as it turned out, was knowledgeable about the disposal of bodies and it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Coil had made provision during the reconstruction of the Endbringer shelter for such disposal. In fact, a little known and suppressed bit of information was that the fully functional crematoria in a corner of the underground base, was actually a standard feature of every Endbringer Shelter in the country. It was a feature that really should be obvious, in retrospect. Death in a shelter was inevitable when an Endbringer actually attacked and the dead couldn’t just be left to rot or take up space in a freezer, when every square inch was needed for food preservation.

The other part of dealing with the four monsters in human form - was how easy and simple it was, at the end of the day.

The first one we called down was Klein.

The instant he was out the elevator I had him in my web and called him into the interrogation room.

There he stood on a plastic tarp and simply waited.

It was very difficult to describe and watch dad’s aura as he shakingly aimed the pistol straight at Klein’s forehead, who in turn, only had eyes for me. Dad’s aura flared brightly, a cauldron of colors; the gray of self-loathing, the reds of anger, the silver of determination.

The report of the gunshot was a surprise when it happened and sent a jolt through me, my stomach churned and my spine felt like it wanted to jump out of my skin. I had also expected it to be louder.

Klein’s body collapsed to the floor, and his mind just vanished from my web.

The back of his skull had been blown out and I didn’t want to look at the results, but forced myself.

“Figured it had an integral suppressor,” Dad idly commented, before abruptly bending over to the side and throwing up his last meal.

Pitter began wrapping up the tarp around the body. “I figured this would happen, Mr. Hebert, and brought a mop and bucket. I’ll clean up, not to worry.”

The process repeated with Allen, Lewis, and Newman.

Each one was easier to do. Dad had dry heaved after Allen, but showed no further problems with the remaining two.

By the point Newman was wrapped in a tarp and carried off to the crematoria by my two mastered mercenaries, who both only felt relief and even joy that the monsters were dead, I felt nothing.

I was utterly numb. Even dad’s emotions had a similar dullness to them. He was seated in a corner of the room, the pistol safed and in a holster attached to his belt. His eyes just stared into the distance and his arms were folded.

The only thing to say in my mind at the moment was an utterly stupid question: ‘Are you okay?’ I already knew the answer, so didn’t ask.

“Your great grandfather was in World War 2,” he eventually said into the oppressive silence. “Not anyone significant or special, or some gung-ho elite paratrooper, he was in an engineer battalion. Helping build bridges for the tanks to cross rivers. Never let it be said though that he didn’t see combat. Everyone did. Gramps rarely spoke of anything besides building bridges, but a few weeks before he died, he told me of fighting a German SS unit. They didn’t know at the time of the atrocities, your average grunt infantryman wouldn’t know until the war was almost over.

“Nevertheless, his unit fought, heavy casualties were suffered, but they survived when an Army Ranger company arrived as reinforcement. Your great-gramps killed six over the battle and two of them, they were as young as you, little owl. By that point, the Nazis were scrambling for troops and conscripted the young, the old, even those citizens of conquered nations. For the longest time, he had nightmares after the war. Wracked with guilt over the kills, until in the early sixties, they at last released declassified information. He didn’t go over the details with me, as I was just a young teenager, but he never had nightmares again. He said, ‘It turns out, I had actually killed monsters, Danny. If you ever need to, don’t hesitate.’”

“So we shouldn’t either?” I asked almost robotically.

“The fact that we’re feeling this way is good, little owl. We can take heart, that we’re good people put in an impossible situation, trying our best to remain good. As long as we keep sight of that, as long as we explore and exhaust all other options first - then I have hope we won’t become monsters either.”

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Dad essentially ordered me to rest and relax for the next two hours, whilst he kept his mind occupied organizing the paperwork and details of transferring Fortress into both his own name and my own. I ordered Coil to cooperate fully and leave no traps or make any purposeful mistakes before I left for the bedroom that Coil himself used.

I made sure to completely change the used sheets from the closet. I couldn’t climb in under them, but I’d be damned if I ever put my bare butt on anything Coil had touched or slept in.

As much as to my body and instincts, a man was a man, and that as long as he had a penis he was fair game to me, for some reason I just couldn’t imagine myself doing that to Coil. Something about his aura and just the look of him, just rubbed me the wrong way, and my back shuddered with revulsion at the idea of feeding from him.

I hadn’t felt that way about the Sparrow mercs, even as I took in their horrible auras. I had been perfectly willing to fuck them to death if dad hadn’t stepped in.

I spent the next two hours puzzling that conundrum unsuccessfully before giving up and returning to Coil…no, our main office.

Dad looked up as I entered, shuffling and gathering papers that he’d printed. Coil was still exactly where he was supposed to be and Pitter was standing beside dad, pointing out a number of things on the screens.

“Ah, Taylor, just in time, we’ve got things mostly sorted here. We’re about ready to begin the process of reinterviewing and sorting the employees. We need to have Coil behind the desk, then we both need to be out of immediate sight initially. If all goes well, you’ll only need to master them in an emergency. We’ll be talking to the ones we want to keep first, the ‘good’ ones, to get them on our side as quickly as possible.”

“And the ones we want to fire later?”

“Yes, I think I’ve sorted the language you need to hypnotize them. There shouldn’t be loopholes, but I think in the interest of having a backup, we’ll be keeping Coil’s blackmail on them. I’ve already got the most senior of the mercs coming down.”

“Then let’s do this, I’d really like to be able to go home at the end of this day, dad.”

“So do I, little owl, so do I.”

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Commander Carlos Wilson got off the elevator onto the boss’ floor feeling the slightest bit of dread. Usually when an op went bust, even if it wasn’t anyone’s fault, the boss would call him down to have a few ‘words’. Those words were never pleasant, but that was par for the course in the world of capes. Coil never raised his voice or shouted, but you knew that he held your life in his hands.

He gave an inquisitive glance at Myers, still guarding the door, who returned an encouraging nod to him.

Good, that meant he was unlikely to catch a bullet for this last bungled op.

The door opened and inside Coil was at his usual place, with tented hands on his desk and regarding Wilson with scrutiny.

He strode forward and stood to attention, keeping his eyes locked forward. This wasn’t the military anymore, but Coil at least maintained a few modicums of a command hierarchy and discipline, finding it too useful to leave behind.

“Boss, reporting as ordered.”

“Thank you for coming, commander,” said Coil in his typical high hiss. “I’ve called you down here today to announce something of a change in circumstance for Fortress.”

Oh boy, this couldn’t be good, he thought.

“Sir?”

“You see, I need to make a bit of a confession at this point. My power’s usefulness is diminishing. This operation was to see if I could take out what I believed to be the source of that problem. Only, I was wrong.”

Carlos pondered that statement and found only bad conclusions to draw from that. It also didn’t bode well for job security.

“I see, sir. What do you intend to do next?”

“I intend to retire, commander. But do not fear, I’m leaving Fortress in hopefully more capable and versatile hands. Your job is yours to keep or if you wish to resign to the new owners, that is up to you.”

“Who are the new owners?”

Coil sat back and gestured behind Carlos, “They can introduce themselves.”

He froze, he hadn’t seen anyone else in the office but yet Coil was clearly looking at someone. He hadn’t heard the door open either.

Carlos turned around and his eyes widened in astonishment. His instincts screamed at him to draw his service pistol but just as quickly that notion vanished as he beheld the nude goddess standing casually there. Then he blinked and the goddess was now just a rather pretty nude young woman… it was the target, it was Taylor Hebert.

Next to her, was the girl’s father, Daniel, and Carlos’ eyes instantly picked out that he was wearing Coil’s modified Staccato pistol and looked supremely unconcerned, confident even. The guy didn’t even have his hand near the holster, keeping his hands folded behind his back.

Carlos tried to go for his own pistol again…

The goddess was back, staring at him with supreme disapproval. Her eyes lanced into his brain and his gaze was transfixed-

“Please don’t, Commander Wilson,” said the goddess, shaking her head, her perfect breasts swaying ever so slightly with the motion. He blinked again, Taylor Hebert was back and he winced at the mental whiplash of it. He realized… he was being mastered and… there was nothing he could do about it. Every time he even thought about resistance…

He shook his head to dispel the notion, looking back to Coil, who was staring at the young woman with wide dopey eyes.

It led to only one conclusion. “You mastered him, defeated him. Despite all the precautions and money spent.”

“Yes, I did,” she said, and walked forward to stand beside Coil’s desk. Carlos did his best, but was unable to keep his gaze away from her flexing, almost perfect backside as she walked. She stopped and turned, her breasts swaying again, the trimmed patch of pubic hair came into view, leading to a pussy and labia lips that stood boldly outward between her long legs, he closed his eyes, before fixing them firmly on her face. Her smile was knowing and her eyes twinkled in secret amusement at his struggles. “The paperwork has been processed and sent through already. My father and I own Fortress, commander. There is nothing you can do about that.”

“And even if I tried, you’d just master me to stop,” he said bitterly.

“Correct, but I don’t want to master you, commander. Coil and the employees of Fortress attacked my father. Coil intended to use you to kill me. So is it any surprise that I fight back when it’s my power to do so? If someone shot at you, commander, you’d shoot back.” He’d give her that one. “Now I hold the purse strings and what Coil said very much stands. He was just reading from our script. You are free to resign or stay on.”

Carlos’ mind raced as he considered his options. It’d be a pain in the ass to resign at this point. Coil had paid very well and to be even temporarily jobless in Brockton in the current economic environment was just not on the cards. He had alimony payments, two kids to support and a house to pay off. Food to put on his own table. The life insurance through Fortress was top notch, so even if he died in service, the kids would be cared for. If he left… all that went away.

There was no real choice and he could see she knew that. Coil had obviously given her access to everything.

“I’ll… stay, ma’am.”

“Good, I’m happy to hear that, but please, I’d rather you call me Escort or if you must use a pronoun, I’ll also answer to mistress.”

“Understood… mistress,” he said eventually, testing the word. Well, he supposed it made sense given her power.

Coil stood and left the big chair for her to sit in. The former boss simply walked to the side, where he sat on a small chair against the wall. Her father also stepped forward, coming to stand by her side.

“Dad,” she prompted.

Daniel Hebert or the new co-boss, cleared his throat. “Now commander, given your seniority and you’re what passes for the leader of the ‘troops’ so to speak. I think it only fair we give you a brief on what direction we’re taking Fortress.”

Escort swiveled one of the screens on the desk around for him to see what was on it. It was a live news feed of that radioactive Tinker train ‘from hell’ that had caused the city no end of problems.

“The Tinker train, sir?”

“If only commander, if only it was just that. What the news won’t tell you or even the PRT, is that the train is not from this universe.”

Carlos couldn’t help but be skeptical of such a bold, if not alarming claim. It was common knowledge at this point that alternate universes and dimensions were a proven thing, thanks to Doctor Haywire and the very real Earth Aleph. The danger of such alternate Earths was also widely understood. If the many countries of Earth Bet could barely get along, how much more magnified would it be if you multiplied that across multiple Earths. One of the nightmare scenarios that they had wargamed in the military was an invasion from a hostile alternate Earth. He’d also heard scuttlebutt that there were pre-signed kill orders for any cape that had even the slightest resemblance to the powers of Doctor Haywire.

“With respect, sir. How can you know this? Coil’s dossier on you both…”

“Is woefully wrong and incomplete, commander,” said Daniel with amusement. “We’ve read the version you were given and even Coil’s confidential version that he composed for himself.”

Escort tapped on the keyboard and displayed the dossiers in question to prove it.

“You see, the reason he targeted my daughter and I was because his Thinker power was extremely unreliable when focused on her. You’re welcome to read, go ahead.”

Carlos stepped forward to bring the digital documents into proper focus and quickly did a bit of speed reading. A few minutes later his head was somewhat reeling at the implications.

“I think I understand now, sir.”

“So you see, he hoped that killing my daughter would bring an end to his power’s reliability issues. Only the problem was that his power was also running into the same issue when directed at the train.”

“Sir, are you saying your daughter is-”

“No, she’s not from another universe, though her powers are. And that’s how she can know this train is not from around the multi-versal neighborhood, so to speak.”

Carlos struggled to resist looking at Escort in astonishment, because he knew once he did, his stupid traitorous eyes… and her father was right there! Why was she perpetually nude anyway? Coil’s dossier had thrown around theories from an avowed naturist to some sort of skin condition that forced it.

“Understood, sir.”

“Good, the train and her power, are unfortunately just the tip of a very big iceberg, commander. An iceberg that has already crashed into Earth Bet’s universe. More objects, entities and even people like the train are on the way.”

Escort stood and now in her hand was a long iron pipe, that was just slightly shorter than she was. She walked around and held it out to him. “Go on, take it.”

He took it in curiosity, wondering where she was going with this. The pipe settled in his hands and he idly tested the weight, seeing the molded markings and numbers running along its length, indicating the company who had made it, dimensions and so on.

He then nearly jumped out of his skin when the pipe started to honk a distinct… tune?

He barely kept a hold of the bizarre thing.

It then stopped honking a tune and then… Morse Code?

“What is this?” he asked, hurriedly holding out the thing to Escort.

“That is another extra-universal object, commander. A sentient pipe or as we call it, by its codename, SCP-15.”

Carlos Wilson would in the future, mark this point in time as when the world had officially stopped making sense. The father daughter duo continued their presentation and spoke of more ‘SCPs’.

Anomalies.

Things that would potentially depopulate the planet, destroy the entire bloody universe they lived in!

It was crazy! It was nuts! How can this be happening? What were they supposed to do about it? What could they do about it?

The goddess was back and he only had eyes for her beauty. He felt his penis begin to eagerly grow and strain against his underwear. She was right there. A perfect hand on his shoulder.

Then Escort was back again and he mentally reeled.

“Sorry, commander. I saw you were struggling and spiraling downward in despair.”

He took deep breaths in and out, going through an old relaxation exercise. “No, it’s… all right… mistress. Thank you for pulling me out. I should be better than this.”

She shook her head ruefully, “No, commander. I’ve been down the same road. I face that same demon daily and I don’t even have the luxury of sleep to escape from it. You see, we intend to use Fortress exactly as its name implies. A place and people who are dedicated to protecting this universe from the threat that the incoming SCPs poses. Some SCPs will be housed safely here, as they are merely objects that have no threat unless they are used, others will be dealt with as their nature allows. Some SCPs we will even help and try to integrate into society, presenting them as parahumans, or even offer them employment in Fortress. Letting them help us deal with other SCPs and in some cases, we will have no choice but to destroy the SCP, if possible. If it’s impossible, and it has to be contained, we will do so, if necessary, even asking the PRT and Protectorate for help.”

He continued his exercise and latched onto the words she was saying like a lifeline.

After a few minutes he had his equilibrium back, but was still on shaky feet. He latched onto the only question his mind was in a state to articulate. “What about Coil’s territory, mistress? Are we going to keep it?”

“More than likely, yes. If only to deny its potential income to the Empire. In terms of the protection payments that Coil charged the businesses in the south-west, I’ll be slowly reducing it over time, bringing it more in line with what an actual security firm or insurer would charge. If the Empire attacks we defend, but we’ll not be poaching territory from the other gangs. Our concerns are greater now.”

He nodded in understanding and Escort turned to her father.

Daniel nodded at her to some unspoken message, walked past the desk and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Carlos became acutely aware of how close she was now, her hand slowly moved up, lightly brushing on his neck, a finger delicately caressing his jaw.

“M- mistress?”

“You do know what I do as a night job,” she stated softly, stepping directly in front of him with barely a hand’s breadth separating them. His traitorous eyes only had to slightly look down to meet hers, she was rather tall.

“I thought that was also in error?”

She laughed melodiously, a pleasant tinkle in his ears, that caressed them as surely as her finger was leaving oddly pleasurable feelings along his jawline just from a touch. “Oh no, commander. Coil got that one right.”

The finger went down his neck, then began fiddling with the button on his collar and his straining member really began to get uncomfortable.

“Uh, mistress, are you… I mean your father is right outside,” he said desperately as the first button popped.

She laughed again, “And you think he doesn’t know?”

“He does?” he said, then remembered the silent interplay between them from moments before. His second button popped and he could only think about what kind of father would allow his daughter to be a prostitute.

Escort tutted at him as the third button was undone. “Don’t judge him. Of course, he’d prefer I didn’t, but asking me to stop is like asking me to stop breathing or eating.”

The remaining buttons were undone blisteringly fast and her hand was on his abdomen, leaving trails of burning pleasure in its wake.

His wits were slowly turning to jelly. “You mean… you actually need to have sex… to live?”

“Yes, for now, just think of this as a new company perk for its employees.”

“If I say no?”

Her hand froze. “Then you say no. Are you saying no, Commander Wilson?”

It had indeed been a while since he had any company in bed. The last being his ex-wife. The opportunity for a few one-night stands had been there, but in this day and age, he didn’t want to risk coming down with an STI and the associated medical expenses.

“Have you had any problems with, uh, S-”

Her smile was smoldering, “Commander, a mundane disease could no more affect me, than an ant could hope to trip you up.”

His final answer was to pull away his urban camo top and dump it on the floor.

Escort hands grabbed him by the biceps, then turned him around and against the desk as easily as he would move a child. It was distinctly odd and he belatedly realized that she probably had a considerable Brute rating. He was no lightweight, after all. Tipping the scales at almost 180 pounds of muscle that he worked hard at keeping in shape.

She knelt and worked on his belt buckle. He helped by removing his pistol holster and placing it on the desk.

In the next moment, he felt her grab his camo pants, belt and underwear in one handhold and she pulled down.

He sighed in relief as his engorged penis bounced into view, lancing into the air forward and toward her face.

She smiled and almost gasped with delight, her hand coming forward to caress around the base of the shaft and his smooth balls. “Shave it all off, do we?”

He gritted his teeth at pleasure of her touch as her fingers caressed slowly all over. “Yes. Gets sweaty down there after a long patrol.”

“Hmmm, but I think we’re missing something before we continue,” she said thoughtfully.

What that was, she didn’t elaborate on. She just stood, keeping a hold of his member, took a measured step back and bent forward at the waist until her face was level with his crotch again. Her mouth worked a bit and she dropped a decent bit of saliva on the base of his shaft, and pumped him with her hand to liberally spread it.

Carlos hissed and grit his teeth as that feeling hit his brain. That… that wasn’t normal. It felt like his cock had just been bathed in burning liquid pleasure.

Then she moved forward, taking his member into her mouth to the hilt in one smooth motion.

What wits he had was smashed completely.

She also knew what she was doing - she wasn’t just sucking and pumping by moving her head, but her tongue was dancing and moving on the underside of his penis, seemingly hitting and playing every nerve ending there perfectly like a maestro.

He groaned and could only look at the ceiling as this continued, fighting with everything he had to just let this sensation continue for eternity, his breathing sped up with the effort.

The door to the office opened and he latched onto the distraction. Belatedly realizing he didn’t care one whit whoever this was, and only now did he remember that Coil was still sitting against the wall, watching.

Coming into the office was Myers… who was already nude, his erect member swaying side to side as he walked forward. His goal was obvious, as he only had eyes for Escort’s waiting ass that she had pre-positioned for him.

Myers paused a moment, using his right hand to help aim precisely and with one smooth movement inserted himself into Escort’s waiting pussy from behind.

Carlos felt her groan in pleasure around his own dick, only for her to redouble her efforts and his world was once again reduced to just feeling this. He closed his eyes to aid his brinkmanship and he heard the wet suction sounds of her mouth and the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh as Myers hips began pounding against Escort’s butt as he railed into her eagerly.

Despite his best efforts, after he didn’t know how long, he eventually succumbed and the bliss of release thundered through his body from his groin as he instinctively thrust his hips forwards.

His wits recovered enough for him to open his eyes and look down.

Escort was eagerly still lapping at his manhood, taking everything. He couldn’t help but place his hand on her head, gently caressing her lustrous long hair as she kept sucking and then slowly withdrew.

Her eyes were closed in ecstasy and enjoyment as she kept his seed in her mouth, relishing it, tasting it, making every moment last for as long as possible before swallowing.

The moment she did though, it seemed even her own control was fraying as she began moaning and groaning in resistance as Myers sped up his strokes into her.

Her soft yet ultra strong arms circled around Carlos hips to support herself.

“Oh ffuuuck!” she groaned with gritted teeth before letting out a scream of pleasure. Carlos blinked as Myers’ hips were drenched from a squirting release of an orgasm from her folds.

Myers didn’t pause, continuing to pump into her, but much more rapidly, building and building until he too groaned and pushed, going as deep as he could, twitching and shooting his load into her.

They stayed that way for a long minute before she sighed with regret and stepped forward. Myers slipped out of her and he took a step back, strangely he was still rock hard.

Escort straightened herself and Carlos couldn’t help but eagerly drink in the sight of her, especially as her nipples were now rock hard and perky, breasts heaving as she gained her breath back. They weren’t particularly big, but just enough to be able to play with. They were also not likely to get in the way or be an inconvenience when running.

“Thank you, Myers, Commander Wilson,” she said at last.

“A pleasure, mistress,” Myers nodded with an eager smile.

She walked around the desk and took a seat on the high backed chair, folding her legs together in typical feminine fashion.

Carlos started getting himself sorted out, pulling up his pants and underwear, and buckling his belt.

“Oh, of course, Myers, do get dressed in your new uniform, please.”

“At once, mistress.”

Carlos picked up his camo top and began buttoning it. “So how often does this perk happen, mistress?”

“Too many factors to reliably answer you, commander,” she smiled mildly at him. “I was indeed being serious, you know? My food, all I can eat, is semen.”

Carlos found himself rather baffled. What an odd expression of her powers, he thought. He generally knew quite a bit about parahumans. Coil made sure none of his soldiers were ignorant of the capes they might face in Brockton. Case 53s were usually the ones saddled with distinct functional disabilities like that. In addition, if that was the case, she now had an entire base full of men at her command that could fulfill her need. He rather didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he was just used as lunch, the sex more than made up for it though.

“Is there anything else, mistress?”

“Yes, though my father and I are interviewing and informing everyone eventually about the change in management and goals, I’d like your help in crafting a memo to send out, which will at least give the bare bones and not cause a ruckus.”

“We’re mercenaries, mistress. You hold the purse now, I know the guys, they won’t give trouble,” he pointed out.

“Coil has a number of them blackmailed to a level that might make their loyalty to him about more than just money, commander.”

Carlos nodded in understanding, so it was housecleaning time. “I see, mistress. I could carefully gather those who would accept the change, inform them discreetly and we can proceed from there.”

“We’ve already identified the ones we want to let go, those who would not be… compatible with the new direction we’re taking. If you could also be on standby should they be… rowdy?”

“I’ll gather a team, mistress,” he nodded.

“Good,” she smiled brilliantly. He heard the door open again and Myers returned.

He was wearing his gun belt, but was otherwise still completely nude.

Carlos gulped with dread and felt only incredulity, “This is the new uniform, mistress?”

She laughed melodiously, “Oh, your face is just priceless. The answer is, yes and no. That will be the ‘uniform’ for those who are on guard duty to me. When not on direct guard duty, you can choose ‘skyclad’ or the urban camo around the base. Naturally, it will still be full armor out on assignment.”

Carlos was very relieved, though didn’t show it. Nevertheless, Escort gave him a wicked twinkling smirk as if she knew anyway.

“Very well, mistress.”

“Let’s get this memo written then. Oh, Myers, do call my father and get Pitter here with the mop and bucket. I always leave a bit of a mess.”

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No new SCPs

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A/N: And so it begins. The Fortress Foundation. Have a great weekend everyone.

The Force Wills - Chapter 54

The following morning after an hour’s meditation and blissful sleep I was back in Padme’s quarters.

I couldn’t help but feel internally amused and somewhat marveled at the fact that I could feel that way, considering what would most likely happen. No need for gazing into the future for this. I was a sixteen year old togruta girl, who had admitted that I felt love for a human woman of twenty-five, who was secretly married to my own master. The best I could hope for is that Padme would go about this gently and not tear me metaphorically to pieces.

The outfit she had chosen for the occasion wasn’t helping. It was a figure hugging, silver dress edged with gold, and her hair had been done up into a long weave ponytail that was further clipped into a bun on the back of her head, from a tiara, a long ultra thin cloak or veil hung behind her, which seemed to perfectly catch the sun, giving the effect… No, don’t go there.

She even had a cup of the best Alderani caf waiting for me to drink, whilst she had tea for herself.

She gave me a rueful half-smile as I began drinking.

“I suppose I should take the lead here,” she said after taking a delicate sip. “As you can imagine, since I became Queen of Naboo and during my time in the Senate, I’ve been the subject of quite a few affections and propositions. Most were simply political maneuvers in the end, those who weren’t, well you already know how two of them turned out.” I nodded; Rush Clovis and Anakin. “I’ll admit that it is flattering and it does stroke the ego. I know how blessed I am, Ahsoka.” Of course she did. “That can also be something of a curse. As I leave behind me broken hearts when I can’t reciprocate or give them what they want. I feel wretched when this happens, as if I’m the one at fault, that I’m being selfish.” Her bitterness was palpable. “Then I catch myself thinking, maybe it would be better to not be so attractive or beautiful.”

I could only feel horror at the idea that she would think that, but I could intellectually see where she was coming from.

“Of course, then reality sets in and I play with the hand I’ve been given. What am I going to do? Get a biosculpt on Hosnian to look ugly?” she asked sarcastically, then took another sip of tea. “I think you realize how impossible it would be for me or you, to reciprocate to each other these feelings. Yes, to me you are one of the best female friends I have, Ahsoka. Someone who knows the truth, helped me and Anakin in ways that we probably haven’t even scratched the surface of.” I could only nod and bore the feeling of my stomach trying to sink through the floor stoically. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to pull you into a triad relationship, which is what it would end up being at the end of the day, nevermind what would happen should it see the light of day.”

“The difference between twelve torpedoes hitting a ship or twenty four. In either case, you’re haran, sorry, I mean… everything falls apart, sort of.” I really wish Basic had better expressive swearing ability, so I either fell back to Mando’a or Togruti.

“Precisely, you wouldn’t be doing yourself any favors either in the long run. One day you might meet that special someone who truly captures your heart and find yourself stuck and resentful. You haven’t truly lived out here in the big galaxy yet. For the longest time you were cloistered in the Jedi Temple, then you’re out here fighting a war. I know from what you shared that somehow you… are much older in spirit, but with regards to this, it doesn’t matter.”

My caf nearly went down the wrong pipe. “You managed to understand?”

Padme looked at me with an odd fascination, “I think so. It’s not something easily put into words. When you shared your feelings, it was just a conclusion that struck me. That this was not the emotions of a sixteen year old, but someone much older than that.”

“You wish to know why you get that impression?” She nodded. This might as well happen now, we were already in heart-to-heart sharing mode. “Imagine, that you go on and live your life to the fullest. You live to the ripe old age of roughly a century.” That was generally the unassisted human life expectancy on a world like Corellia. “You die, only you find it’s not the end. You can’t think as such, you just know you are there, you exist, you drift along the currents of the Force and then one day, you blink and can think again, you realize… you have eyes, lungs, a body, you can think again. You are infantile, again. You have a young mother, again. A father, again. You are in a different world. You look up into the sky, the stars are totally unfamiliar, the galaxy is different.”

I met her eyes and dropped a number of my masks. I wore my spiritual age for the briefest of moments openly to her. Her eyes widened and she now looked at me with wonder. “That happened to you?”

I sat back, pulling my masks back on, returning to show the galaxy a 16 year old togruta Jedi padawan. “Yes,” I said simply.

She continued staring. “How truly old would you say you are?”

“I can’t really say for certain. If I want to be specific, by adding the two lives together, 110 years.”

My family had been quite long lived in my previous life, my grandparents and parents reaching their late nineties. I had managed a decent ninety-four before I slipped away from that life.

A long silence descended as Padme simply took that in and tried to comprehend that she was speaking with someone who had actually lived two lives and wasn’t bullshitting about it. She could at least sense that clearly through the bond.

“Do the Jedi know?” she asked absently.

“There are two who know, due to their own talent in the Force and because I have a bond with one of them. They also know that it is an intensely personal thing and not to be spoken about idly or out of academic curiosity,” I said, giving Padme the full weight of my presence briefly through the Force.

She nearly dropped the cup and it was only rescued when I stabilized it with a small pinpoint bit of TK. She rescued it and let her eyes fall to the floor. “So Anakin doesn’t know?”

I sighed wearily, “Due to his circumstances and his relation to the enemy, I didn’t dare. He has, however, recently been armed and made wise, you could say. So my excuses are running out, for I am his padawan, he is my master. I have grown close to him and I will freely admit that I also love him. No doubt he will be quite upset at first, until he realizes this is actually dangerous knowledge.”

She frowned in thought for a moment before nodding, “Knowledge of what actually lies after death?”

“That is one aspect, yes. There’s also how this shifts the understanding of the Force itself. The Jedi have forgotten much about the Force and how it relates to death. Circumstances will cause a ‘reeducation’ to happen, but my presence alone will hurry that along.”

“Ahsoka, what you’ve just told me… It’s not how I imagined this conversation going. I mean…”

The poor thing, she was floundering. It was not how I imagined it going either.

“Ignore that for now, we’re getting sidetracked. Right here and now, you must still make the rational decision.”

She put down the cup on the table and cradled her head in her hands. “You’re the older one here actually,” she protested weakly.

“It’s still your decision, I’m not going to make that for you. This is your life.”

“It’s yours too.”

“Yes, a romance is clearly out of the question, especially how it would look, for now. It would make things very awkward. However, if there’s one thing I can tell you Padme, is that change is constant and that love always finds a way.”

“Fine, yes, we obviously can’t,” she blurted with exasperation. “However, I don’t want you to sever the bond.”

I tried my best impression of a raised eyebrow, “Really?”

“If it does all you say, then it might be the difference between life and death in the coming years of the war. If I’m kidnapped, captured, more assassins… would you sense the threat to me clearer? Would you be able to speak to me through it, if I’m unable to get to a hypercom?”

“There are factors involved, but generally, yes. But what about Anakin? Your strengthened bond with him will allow for all that.”

“Yes, of course, but… what if he isn’t in a position to be able to help or is too far away at the time?”

Ah, so she’s worried about putting all her eggs in a single basket.

“Generally, he and I will be on assignment together, but lately it seems that there will be times where we are on our own missions, and that is only going to occur more often. There will be a price for this, Padme. You understand? The longer the bond stays, the harder it will be to remove. If I should die, it would create a gaping wound in our spirits that will never fully heal. If you die, I will experience the same.”

“Then it is a burden I will accept, Ahsoka.”

I put my cup down and stood, then walked over to her. She stood as well and I opened my palms to her.

She placed her hands in mine and I called on the Force, crystallizing the bond.

I nodded and took a step back. “It is done.”

“Thank you, Ahsoka. For your trust and understanding, I feel like I don’t deserve it. Well, we both have a busy day ahead of us.”

“Then let’s be about it.”

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I entered the observation room overlooking the interrogation of the two assassins.

They were kept in two separate rooms below, currently secured with handcuffs that were anchored to a central thick durasteel table, which was in turn anchored into the floor. Both were redressed in high visibility jumpsuits that sat awkwardly on their respective ‘alien’ physiologies.

The second assassin was truly not what you pictured when you thought of the word, but that was likely the whole point.

He was a Ssori, a diminutive species from the Outer Rim. This one stood barely three-quarters of a meter tall and now that he sat hunched miserably, made him seem positively tiny. Their heads were split into two large, stiff, ‘lekku’-like appendages, bright yellow eyes that almost looked like flashlights, an undulating neck, thin arms, and very long five fingered hands, all covered with leathery brown-gray skin.

“Good morning, Padawan Tano,” Typho greeted and looked up from a datapad.

“Captain Typho, how are things going?”

“Well, meet Seripas and Rumi Paramita,” he gestured to them both in turn. “Very limited records exist on both, but that’s mostly because they’ve been relatively behaving themselves until now. Both are actually legitimate bounty hunters.”

“Really? They’re in the Guild?”

“Yes, fully paid up and everything. Their last known job was just a few months ago. They accepted a contract to protect a farming village on Felucia. He and Rumi were part of a small group of bounty hunters who called themselves, Sugi’s Gang.”

“That’s a rather noble thing to do. How do they go from that to accepting an assassination contract on a senator of the Republic?”

“From our questioning of Seripas, who’s been the most cooperative, that last job didn’t go well.”

“What happened?”

“They fought against a pirate gang, who was regularly attacking a cluster of farms for the produce. They underestimated the strength of the pirates and ended up being killed, these two were the only survivors. Afterwards, they retreated and consolidated the gang’s collective assets, eventually the contract on Senator Amidala came up and the price offered was so high, they figured it would be just the thing to get them back on their feet.”

“So I assume this contract was not on the official bounty hunter boards?”

R3 had a program constantly scanning those boards for suspicious activity that could relate to anything that either influenced me, those close to me, certain select senators or the Jedi in general.

“Correct, it seems in this case, the only thing that got posted on the board was an offer to meet for a lucrative contract, to be discussed in person.”

A rather obvious method if you didn’t want to advertise that you had placed a hit on someone. Everyone knew that everyone else was monitoring the Bounty boards. Padme did not have a specific named bounty on her. Else R3 or HK would’ve already sounded the alarm to me. The RNSF also had a whole group devoted to trawling through the Holonet searching for threats to either the government, Padme or the current queen. That was why there was a ‘black’ bounty system as well.

“Who did they meet?”

“An anonymous representative of the true sponsor, who provided fifty percent of the money upfront and a stipend to acquire the technology to make the hit possible in the first place.”

I groaned in annoyance, “No further details?”

“No, the only thing they could conclude was that the representative was a human male. They didn’t think it worth trying to identify him, as that would’ve angered their new sponsor.”

“Well, that at least tells us something about this sponsor; if they’re so free with their money in order to make this happen - it speaks to someone who would be especially angry at the senator. This is personal, not ideological.”

“The list of people who would be so angry at Senator Amidala is not that long,” Typho mused in thought, tapping on his datapad with a renewed urgency.

I stood next to his shoulder and spied what he was referencing. “You actually have such a list?”

“It’s my job, Padawan Tano,” he said simply, giving me a stare with his patched eye.

“Any name that jumps out at you?” I asked with a smile.

“Not particularly. Nute Gunray definitely has the money angle covered.”

“While Gunray certainly views the senator as an enemy, it’s never been to the point where he’d go out of his way like this or spend this much on an assassination contract,” I said, as I scanned down the list. “You even have some senators on this.”

“The war has more than doubled the amount of names,” Typho grouched unhappily. “A number of senators who profit from the industries supporting the war, did not like it when Senator Amidala campaigned against the further expansion of the GAR. Their protests and words to her behind closed doors was enough to earn them a spot on this list.”

My mind recalled the overheard conversation that Seripas and Rumi had over the radio, just as the hit was about to happen.

“I think Seripas is not being complete with the truth. Yes, they probably met with a representative, but they also spoke to the sponsor at the same time. The rep was probably carrying a secure holocom to the meeting. Seripas said that the sponsor wouldn’t be happy with a kill using the shrapnel mine.”

Typho nodded, “That definitely indicates familiarity with the true culprit. Though I’m not sure why anyone would object to the method of killing someone they had put out a contract on.”

“It would either be a cultural aversion to such a messy death for the enemy or they want a recognizable image of the senator’s death, a sure confirmation, that could be transmitted or would reach them quickly.”

“That last one sounds about right,” Typho grinned and tapped on the datapad, refining his search to exclude some names.

“Going with your instincts, captain?”

“They’ve served me well over the years.”

I looked over the name list again and pointed to the one that my memories and Prescience was outright screaming at me, “That one.”

“Ziro? Why him?”

Ziro Desilijic Tiure, the nephew to Jabba, who had helped engineer the plot to have Jabba’s son and heir killed, whilst in league with the CIS and Count Dooku. He had been serving a rather lengthy prison term for abducting and imprisoning Padme, but had been freed forcefully by the now deceased Cad Bane some months ago.

“The Force, but I always like to get confirmation. There’s nothing worse you can do to a hutt than put them in a bare bones cell with no luxuries or amenities. Especially one who is as well connected and wealthy as Ziro still is. He actually outright owns several star systems in hutt space and has sat on the Hutt Cartel Council. Now the question remains, are these two the only ones he’s hired?”

“With the amount of money in play for just these two, that would be just too much, even for a hutt of Ziro’s wealth. We’re talking about 150,000 credits in the contract just for Rumi and Seripas.”

I shook my head, “You underestimate how profligate a hutt can be with money when they've been slighted. I’ve heard of hutts offering bounties of over 200,000 just for simply irritating them. A second team or assassin is not out of the question.”

The Force screamed in warning, I closed my eyes and fell deep into Prescience.

Just as quickly I emerged and pushed through my bond with Padme. HK and three RNSF bodyguards were within sight.

She was at another smaller meeting of the refugee conference and I pushed my will through the bond to crumble the Alderani flatbread snack in her hand, before pushing the remains to land on the floor. Padme goggled at the inexplicable event, her mind too flabbergasted to make any connection or be wise to the threat.

HK reacted with the speed and experience of an assassin droid. I didn't even need to order him. He had seen the application of my power and understood immediately.

With three sprinting mechanical steps he bullied his way through the crowded room, knocking over multiple guests and seized the well-dressed waiter manning the food table by the scruff of the neck. “Warning: Poison in the food!”

The droid’s deadpan voice resounded through the room and it had the appropriate effect. Everyone’s self-preservation instinct kicked in and soon the floor was littered with flatbread and numerous politicians screaming, wiping their hands off, spitting their food out or even inducing themselves to throw up.

Padme’s bodyguards did the correct thing and immediately whisked her away.

I pulled back along the bond and tapped on my comlink. “HK, knock him unconscious, tell Alderani Security of the poison he slipped into Padme’s flatbread. Tell them also I’m on my way.”

“Affirmative: Yes, Master. Mockery: Poison? Really? Pathetic meatbag.” There was a meaty thump as a droid fist met soft flesh.

Typho just stared at me flatly and I could sense his mind working at thousands of lightyears per second, “Did you just prevent another assassination?

His comlink beeping urgently was all the answer he needed.

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By the time Typho and I arrived in a speeder at the Alderani Parliament, it bore a stark resemblance to a kicked hornet’s nest. Security shuttles and speeders crowded around the building and I could see numerous security personnel on every balcony, looking outward with macrobinoculars and scanners.

In the entrance lobby, we were met by the senior ASF official in charge of the parliament’s security, Captain Drel Grahero. He was a tall, wiry man with elegant bleach white hair, cleanly shaven, who looked to be in his late forties. His physicality showed that he was no pushover though and in the Force I sensed an utter stubbornness and zealous conviction to his duty. He also didn’t like either me or Typho, but was professional enough to bury it.

“Captain Typho, Padawan Tano,” he greeted us coolly, his gray eyes were hard and just short of glaring at us.

“Captain Grahero, what’s the situation?” Typho asked, folding his arms.

Grahero simply gestured for us to follow him into a turbolift. Only when we were inside did he answer, “We have the assassin in temporary holding on one of the sublevels,” he said, pushing the button for the third sublevel. “So far he has said nothing. My people are questioning him now, but he doesn’t even acknowledge us.”

“What have your scans of him revealed?” I asked.

“His DNA is in the database, Sem Kalgima, 23 years old and he’s worked at the local catering company for the past five years. We’re contacting his employer and any possible family relations at the moment.”

“So a legitimate Alderani, out of nowhere, wakes up today and decides to poison Senator Amidala, the day after a team of assassins fails,” I said skeptically. “Not buying it.”

“I share your suspicion, padawan,” Grahero admitted. “However, our scans and ID of him are conclusive.”

“We want to speak to him personally,” Typho demanded.

“Since he was caught with poison on his person, trying to kill your senator, I’ll allow it. Just remember, he is an Alderani citizen with all the rights inherent. These are not the front lines of the war and Alderaan is not some dustball Outer Rim world.”

Wow, I could just feel the core worlder mentality oozing off from him.

“We are perfectly aware of where we are, captain,” I said with a smile.

The turbolift opened and after a few minutes of walking through narrowed hallways, leading to rooms that housed the machinery that made parliament a pleasant place to be in, we stopped outside a nondescript door where two security men stood at attention.

They opened the door for us and inside was a bare room that had a further door leading onward and on that wall, was a large one-way transparisteel viewport that went from floor to ceiling. It looked out over a large table and chair, where Sem was handcuffed to and he was being talked to by an Alderani woman in a security uniform and one of Typho’s men was also standing behind her.

Grahero tapped the comlink on his vambrace, “Lieutenant Palva, a moment.”

The woman in the interrogation room straightened and opened the door, walked out and saluted her superior. “Captain?”

“Anything new?”

“No, sir. He just keeps staring at the wall,” Palva said with frustration.

“Let’s see what our Jedi friend can determine,” he said, giving me a pointed look and gesturing to the open door.

I took the invitation and walked inside, Typho following close on my heels and closing the door behind us.

My senses and mind were already pushing forward through the Force, taking in everything about Sem Kelgima.

On a surface level, he was a decently looking Alderani male, short dark-blonde hair, blue eyes, high-cheekbones and a thin mouth. He filled out his waiter uniform nicely and was definitely in good shape.

Typho took a seat opposite and began just looking at the assassin with a foreboding stare. Anyone normal would’ve been feeling very uncomfortable and downright intimidated, but it didn’t seem to faze Sem at all. He definitely understood that there was someone new with him and trying to get his attention, he just didn’t let it happen. Not even when I crossed into his field of vision did he react.

Through the Force though, I was learning a lot.

I tapped my comlink to open a channel to Grahero. “Captain, how did you determine this man’s DNA profile?”

“We scanned him, padawan,” he replied with exasperation.

“No blood or saliva sample testing then.”

“Of course not, we’re not so primitive here.”

I shook my head at the arrogance. “Well, your sophisticated scanner was fooled, captain. This man has a spoofer implanted right here.” I poked the assassin on the right side of his spine, just below the ribcage with a finger. Sem gave the first true reaction so far and twitched. I felt a slight bit of panic and fear begin to leak through his rigidly trained emotional control.

“What? The scanner detected no implants either.”

“That’s another function of the spoofer this man has,” I said, continuing to steadily walk around the assassin. “Sem Kalgima,” I said aloud, carefully paying attention to the man’s mind, emotions and reactions to hearing the full name. The results were conclusive to me. “His name is an alias. He reacts well to it, but it has no true resonance in his emotions or thoughts.”

I reached into my utility belt and pulled out my own DNA scanner. It was the standard Jedi model that was used in the field. I pulled out the sample tab from the bottom and surged my will through the Force. A TK stasis enveloped the assassin and I stepped next to him. Now the guy was really alarmed and panicking. No amount of training could really stop that, when you suddenly felt your body being so overwhelmingly pushed and restrained from an invisible source and all directions. His skin was telling him he was being smothered and restrained in an unyielding blanket, but his eyes told him there was nothing.

I raised a finger in his sightline and slowly bent it.

He was forced to stiffen and bend his neck back.

“What are you doing?!” Grahero snapped.

“Getting a sample, he would not have cooperated if I had asked him.”

“I warned you-!”

“Captain Grahero, this man’s identity is in question, he may not be Alderani at all!” My TK reached out and bent the door just enough so that it wouldn’t be able to retreat into the wall. This stopped Grahero in his tracks, when he tried to open it.

“Open this door at once, Padawan!”

I ignored the belly aching and forced the assassin’s mouth open, pushed the sample tab in and scraped the inside of his cheeks, gathering cells and saliva.

That done, I let the TK stasis go and the assassin’s control was finally shattered. He tried to kick me right on the side of my knee, which would’ve been very nasty had I not seen it coming and simply dodged out of the way.

I shoved the sample tab into the reader and smirked at the assassin, who was now scowling in my direction with a single minded hatred that was honestly quite impressive in its strength. It was good this guy wasn’t a Sith or Force sensitive.

The reader beeped and projected a small holo panel with the results.

My eyes met the assassin’s, “Really?”

He simply continued glaring at me in answer. I turned around and held up my scanner against the transparisteel, knowing that Grahero was looking despite himself.

“What?! That’s impossible!”

“You’re welcome to bring your own manual DNA reader down, Captain Grahero. It will tell you the same thing. This man does not appear in the DNA registry of Alderaan, but his DNA does partially match in the Jedi Archives. ‘Sem’ here, is descended from the House of Rist.”

“They’re supposed to be extinct, dead, gone, a blight on Alderaan’s good name!”

“Padawan, who are they?” asked Typho in confusion.

“A very old Alderani noble house, one that the other houses used in ancient times to do their dirty work. They were assassins and spies. We’re talking about 3000 years or so ago. Eventually though, the other houses began to fear all the dirty laundry that Rist had on all of them, so in the interest of a newly established peace after an Alderani succession crisis, they were mostly dealt with quietly. It seems they were not thorough enough.”

“You know your history,” Typho said, looking impressed.

“One of my friends in the Jedi Academy is Alderani. History in general is a passion of mine.” I stepped forward as I sensed the feelings of Sem Rist turn to a bloody minded murderous rage, focused on me. “Are we going to have a problem Rist? You want to kill me now? Set your entire house on me for exposing your continued existence to Alderaan? I wonder how many others you have infiltrated. Are you slowly biding your time, building up until you can strike to kill the heads of all the major houses at once?” He naturally didn’t answer, but I was pushing hard on his surface thoughts as I was talking. Trying to get him to think of something that would provide an answer. “Should I just kill you now? To keep word from getting back to Rist? To save so many lives? Even those of your own house when they send assassins after me?”

The Darksaber sprung to life in my hand with a crystalline crack and I rested it near his neck. A twitch of a wrist and it would all be over.

Rist stared for the first time in naked fear at the very odd white and black lightsaber blade. “That your house responded at all to Ziro’s contract is somewhat amazing. He must’ve promised you guys a planet of your own in hutt space to bring you out of hiding like this.”

It was just a wild ass guess, as I had no idea how well off the exiled House of Rist was. That they had an infiltrator at all spoke volumes. You didn’t do that when you were destitute. It meant that you had assets, wealth and organization. The implants in this guy were not cheap. The spoofer was just one of a dozen others that were sprinkled all over, with functions such as an implant for his lungs that would probably let him outlast anyone in a running competition, an internal bacta reservoir for healing internal injuries…

The Darksaber retreated into its hilt. Prescience didn’t show a good outcome from killing this guy. Not for myself or the Alderani. A dead body could be dismissed. They would bury their heads in the sand and pretend that nothing could touch the paradise they had built here. Bail Organa would classify it as state secret and commission the ASF to slowly and secretly hunt for further House Rist infiltrators. The paranoia this engenders in the ASF causes a faction of them to secretly splinter off and become an anti-Rist conspiracy that was like an Alderani Section 31, that ‘disappeared’ potential Rist infiltrators and they naturally would get it wrong more than they got it right.

No, the Alderani had to confront this specter of the past in the light. If their civilization and government couldn’t handle that, then they didn’t deserve this paradise.

“Captain Typho, do you have further questions to ask?”

“Will he actually answer them?” he wryly asked in turn.

“No, his indoctrination won’t allow it and even if he’s tortured to the point of betraying anything, he also has a suicide implant.”

“Then we’re wasting our time here.”

We left to return to Padme, but not before I had a few words with Grahero.

“I will be informing Prince Organa personally about the situation,” I said, outright glaring into the captain’s eyes. I had spotted a probability line where Alderani captain had taken matters into his own hands to ‘disappear’ the Rist assassin and cover everything up.

“What are you implying, padawan?” he asked, looking and feeling insulted.

“Those who know of the Rist, can be counted on one hand at the moment among the Alderani. They are all under your command.”

“What? You think I’d cover it all up?”

“Yes,” I hissed, poking him in the chest. “I am Jedi. I can sense your emotions as an open book and infer and deduce a lot. Don’t try to cover this up. Nor will you ask the Prince to do so.”

“I will not be told what to do by some jumped up togruti youngling! What would you know about what is best for this world and its people?”

“What do you?” I retorted with a dangerous smile. “Are you Prince of Alderaan? Do you hold that title and responsibility?”

He simply fumed and glared, not rising to the obvious bait.

“Let’s go, Captain Typho. I’d rather not Senator Amidala be in HK’s company alone for too long.”

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“Truly?”

I nodded at Bail Organa and handed over my DNA sampler. He read the results on the small holoscreen intently for a few moments before he closed his eyes and his mouth thinned in anger. Yet I sensed it was anger directed not at himself or anyone in particular.

He turned and stared at Padme with regret. “I am sorry, my friend. The sins of my ancestors come to haunt us and we almost lose you.”

She shook her head and stood from the couch, “Bail, don’t apologize. The only people at fault here are the Rist for continuing their vendetta and allowing themselves to still be used as weapons for hire.”

“And the one who hired them,” I reiterated.

“Of course, that all this is Ziro’s doing, only surprises me by the extent to which he’s pursuing it,” Padme said.

“Padawan Tano, what was your reading of this Sem Rist? Do you think there are truly more Rist on this planet, waiting in the shadows?” Bail asked gravely.

“Almost certainly, Prince Organa. The Rist wouldn’t risk Sem in an assassination otherwise if he was their only asset on the planet. He’s relatively young as well, so was considered disposable if something went wrong. The other point I now realize is that Sem has a suicide implant, yet he hasn’t used it after capture.”

“That is interesting,” Bail mused, folding his hands at his waist. “Does he still have hope to be rescued or could it be that he’s young and their indoctrination failed?”

“Always assume the worst, that way when things aren’t as bad, you are pleasantly surprised, highness,” I said with a brief smile. “Therefore, we must assume that Sem hasn’t killed himself because there is an alternate plan that kicked in the moment he was captured. He likely has a handler nearby who gave him the mission in the first place, who is also remotely monitoring the situation. It would not surprise me if one of the functions of his implants is to communicate in some fashion in a generally untraceable manner. It’ll be encrypted, short range, and only occur in bursts at random.”

I could see he was fighting back against openly displaying his emotions and general weariness. This was a man who was facing a decision which would literally define the continued well being of his people and the planet. Before I had shown up, he was only worried about the war in a nebulous sense. In his mind, Alderaan was there and it would remain there, a bastion, a paradise. Now an enemy from the past had come in the night and was threatening to destroy a peace and order that had so far endured for more than three thousand years.

“There must be a way to resolve this without bloodshed,” he declared, clenching his fists. “I refuse to accept that we must once again destroy House Rist to preserve Alderaan.”

“There is an ancient saying, highness, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick,’” I said evenly.

Bail huffed in amusement despite himself, “At the moment we don’t know where or how to contact House Rist or if they’ll even listen to us.”

“Ziro clearly could, somehow,” Padme pointed out.

“Even if you could contact House Rist, the question then becomes who would you send,” I sighed. “You can’t send any Alderani with any sort of official standing to speak for the Houses, their life would either be forfeit or they become a hostage. You need to send a neutral party, someone who can take on Rist if it should come down to it, but can also mediate.”

“You’re describing a Jedi,” Bail smirked at me.

“Not me,” I said instantly. “This is definitely the job of a Jedi Master with experience, one who also knows the criminal underworld extremely well.” I couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on my face as an idea occurred to me.

“And do you happen to know such a Jedi Master?” Bail asked.

“Not personally, but I know of him. I also think he might even know how to contact House Rist.”

I tapped my comlink, and after keying in the correct address, a holo of the Jedi emblem appeared above my arm. Next I keyed in my personal access code. Nearly half a minute later we were still staring at the Jedi Temple’s equivalent of a ‘on hold’ signal. “Guess it’s a busy day in the communications center.”

Finally the holo resolved to display the upper body and head of a human male Jedi Knight, who I could immediately tell was rather harried, despite his perfect outward appearance. “Padawan Tano, you have been verified. How can I help?”

“I need to somewhat urgently speak to Master Tera Sinube.”

“A moment, I will check for you.” The Knight turned to work at his terminal and after a few seconds of checking the results on his screen… “I have raised his personal comlink, padawan. Do you wish me to forward your signal?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Very well, Force be with you.”

The knight vanished and the spinning Jedi emblem returned, below it the words ‘Awaiting signal response’ kept flashing.

Nearly two minutes later we were still waiting, with the holocall ‘ringing’. Padme had sat down and Bail was patiently standing next to me, rocking back occasionally on his heels.

“It seems this Master Sinube is busy,” he eventually said.

“No,” I said, stifling a laugh. “He’s taking a late afternoon nap it seems and his comlink’s alarm isn’t enough to wake him up.”

“Dare I ask how you know that, Padawan Tano?” Bail raised an eyebrow at me.

“You may ask, highness. I don’t mind,” I smirked cheekily. “Let’s just say the Jedi’s ways are mysterious and leave it at that.” I directed the Force along the focus and using a bit of TK, gently shook the master’s shoulder, as if my hand was right there next to him in his seat in front of a research terminal among the tall, glowing blue holocube stacks of the Jedi Archives.

“Uh, wh- hello?” The elderly cosian Jedi said as he emerged from his slumber. He glanced around with an intrigued expression on his near-equine like face, clearly sensing my ‘hand’ and the Force flexing around him. I retreated back along the link, just as the master heard his comlink calling for attention.

Finally, the call connected, and Master Sinube’s holo appeared over my arm.

“Hello? You are Padawan Tano?”

“Yes master. Thank you for taking my call and I apologize for waking you.”

“No, no, that’s all right. Rather intriguing skill you have there, young Tano. Most impressive. Now how can this old Jedi help you and… oh, Senator Organa.”

“Master Jedi,” Bail greeted with a slight bow.

“Master Sinube, both the Senator and I require your help and particular expertise. You wouldn’t happen to know of a family or group of underworld assassins that go by some variation of the name Rist?”

“Rist, you say? Rist… Rist… one moment, let me do a few searches, memory isn’t what it used to be.” The cosian looked to the side, tapping on his research terminal. Eventually he shook his head. “No, no assassin family or organization by that name in my records or that I’ve even heard rumor of. There was the ancient Alderaanian assassin house, but they’re extinct.”

“If they wanted to remain hidden they would leave the name Rist behind, rebranding in some fashion. Master, is there any such organization which extensively uses cybernetic implants?”

“Most of them do in some form or other, how extensive do you mean?”

“You name the body part, it has something to help or enhance function and they’ll all be human. Perhaps a few even have Alderani names?”

“Interesting, now that does narrow it down, padawan. Not enough I’m afraid.”

“Master Sinube, do any of these assassin organizations have an ancient sword and shield as symbology?” Bail asked suddenly, with an air of remembrance.

“There is one, yes. They call themselves the Compeer; exclusively human, very reclusive and only take contracts for targets when they’re offered huge sums of money. They don’t have a known base or world they operate out of. When you want their services, you have to arrange a meeting through a specific holonet address, which will differ depending on which day of the week it is. Obtaining those addresses is generally done through word of mouth only in the underworld. I think Compeer seeded them to select criminal figures at some point in the past and it’s persisted to this day.”

“What’s their reputation in the underworld?” I asked curiously.

“Very good. It is rare that they ever fail to kill a contracted target and if they do fail, they’ll usually compensate the client in some form and keep trying.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear, master,” I sighed wearily.

“Now how did a young padawan like you get involved with the Compeer?” Sinube asked with a raised leathery skin flap that served as his eyebrow.

“They accepted a contract on Senator Amidala’s life and I’m currently protecting her.”

“Oh. Oh dear. Where is your master?”

“Fighting alongside the 501st Clone Legion.”

“That is quite a conundrum you’ve got yourself into, padawan. Senator, am I correct that you now believe Compeer and the ancient House Rist are connected?”

“It’s possible, Master Sinube. Padawan Tano managed to stop the assassin and we currently have him in custody. His DNA matches as a descendant of Rist. I want to retain your services to act as a mediator with them. We believe they have more infiltrators on Alderaan, working on a long term plan to perhaps take revenge in a vendetta against the noble houses that killed their ancestors.”

“That will not be easy, senator. It will require time, planning and patience. Very well, I’ll be on the next transport to Alderaan to speak to you directly, in as secure an environment as you can arrange. In the meantime, Padawan Tano, be extra vigilant. Expect an escalating attack of some sort from the Compeer to fulfill their contract. They failed with subtlety, now they will use overwhelming force.”

“Understood, master. Thank you.”

“Force be with you, young padawan.”

The holo winked out.

Padme looked at her chrono. “It’s almost time for lunch. I think that I’ll eat in my quarters for the moment. We can resume afterward.”

“And of course you want the conference to go on as if nothing has happened,” I said with a half-hysterical laugh.

“I will not let my life be dictated by Ziro or anyone, Ahsoka, nor will I live in fear. The moment we give in to terror, there will be no end to its use by our enemies. I’m well used to danger and I’ve lived through many assassination attempts. That being said, I’m not reckless. We’ll increase our security as tough as we can make it and I’ll have you and HK by my side.”

“All right, I’ll get HK to evaluate the Compeer and see what attack methods he thinks they’ll use.”

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The day that followed as the conference continued was the most mentally and emotionally exhausting time of my life thus far. I was constantly on alert and probing the immediate and near future with prescience, searching for when and how Rist or Compeer would strike. I probed every person that came into the same room as Padme for strange or out of place emotions. HK now walked around with both his blaster cannon and a sniper rifle latched onto his back, but hid it from view by wearing a cloak, so as to stop the ‘disgustingly pacifistic meatbags’ from potentially hindering his mission.

Typho’s RNSF team was always on the periphery of the room, their right hands near their blaster pistol holsters, whilst their left hands had portable scanners, searching for unknown energy or weapon signatures. At that size, the resolution wasn’t great, but at least they’d give early warning of a blaster charging up.

Meeting after meeting passed until we were back in Panteer Hall, for Padme to give her keynote speech fully and this time without any interruption.

The tension level in the room was naturally high and had been all day. I had to give big kudos to the Alderani parliamentarians for even being in the same room as Padme after the two assassination attempts. If this had been on any other planet or on Coruscant, the politicians would’ve already fled the Senate building and not returned until at least a high level security review was completed and few senate committees had signed off on it. Some would’ve even returned to their homeworlds and only attended via hologram.

Yet it seemed, Compeer was planning something else.

All the probability lines showed nothing happening during the keynote and sure enough, Padme delivered it without incident and received a standing ovation for it in the end.

It was pretty much a done deal now. The Alderani would not only provide financial aid to refugees from the war, but I had heard another idea gaining steam about even enlarging the carefully managed cities of the planet to provide temporary or even permanent housing to refugees who could make it to the core world.

The sun set and everyone returned to their homes.

Padme was still in her assigned quarters and standing out on the balcony with the impressive view again.

I was standing right next to her, feeling decidedly tired but pushing it away with the Force and keeping my eyes lazily scanning right to left. Most of my attention was on my Farsight and occasionally dipping into prescience - I had already worn myself a bit ragged with it, almost like a muscle that I was using too often. I knew it was dangerous, as it was narrowing my vision, but it was equally dangerous not to use it.

“Padme, it’s really not safe out here,” I said, giving a glance to HK, who stood like a silent sentinel at the balcony’s corner.

“I know,” she said, taking a sip from a glass of water. “Please don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Couldn’t we at least have moved you to different quarters?” She just gave me a stern look in reply. “Fine.”

My eyes turned back to the skyline of mountains, finding the twinkling stars overhead and the occasional moving light of a ship ascending or descending through the atmosphere.

The Force screaming a warning sent a jolt through me like I had just stuck a finger into a wall socket.

Prescience showed a probability line that had been hovering faintly on the edges of my weakened perception, which suddenly roared to life and reality.

My lightsaber shot forward from my belt, ignited and whirled in front of Padme’s face to deflect the orange bolt that lanced in from a point nearly two kilometers distant, coming from a treeline and halfway up the nearest mountain.

“HK!” I snapped.

The droid had already had his own sniper rifle in hand and in the next moment lifted it and fired off a return shot that vanished into the distance.

“Report: Kill achieved, Master. Warning: Threat assessment-”

He didn’t finish.

In that moment, a distant Corellian YT light freighter passing over the mountain opened a hidden panel in its hull and fired off a concussion missile that screamed into the city and directly for the balcony where I was standing.

The Force Push I sent out to meet it was barely in time, so fast was it.

The missile exploded just three hundred meters from the balcony. It lit up the night sky with a brief flash of fire. Sending shrapnel fanning outward from the flat plane of TK I had thrown in its way.

The freighter wasn’t deterred by the failure and simply dropped a further three missiles to target the same spot.

In a corner of my mind I realized that the original sniper shot had been just to aid the freighter pilot in giving the missiles a target to lock on to. The energy flare of my lightsaber and the deflection was enough for the sensors to detect. Once the pilot had that, he could simply send more missiles our way based on coordinate data.

I threw another Force Push and the missiles exploded short once again.

Two missiles were fired next and for an instant I wondered what the pilot was playing at, until he waited a second and fired three more!

Clever.

I had no time to wonder what kind of launcher that YT was packing.

I raised my hand and instead of a bog standard push, poured my will and focus into grabbing an actual hold of all five missiles with TK.

I managed to stop four dead in mid-air and was hit with the beginnings of a headache.

The fifth continued straight on.

There wasn’t even time to swear.

HK sniper rifle whined and fired.

The fifth missile died a mere hundred meters from the balcony and I had to dive right to tackle Padme to get us both behind the solid duracrete railings.

Shrapnel peppered the balcony and shattered the windows behind us.

“Eat shit!” I swore and with TK, turned the missiles around.

They were still burning on their long duration propulsion, so had more than enough in the tank to simply keep going for another fifty kilometers.

Naturally, they didn’t want to kill the ship that had launched them. Immediately trying to correct course back towards the balcony.

These were not the relatively stupid, straight forward missiles of a man-launched system that you could just return to sender by turning it around. It took all my concentration to keep the missile maneuvering jets and control surfaces suppressed and only allow them to fire off when I wanted them to.

As it was, I only managed it by imagining I was flying these missiles as if I was in a fighter cockpit, but with a computer that fought my inputs at every turn, which I could override.

To an outside observer with super fast reaction times, it must’ve seemed like these missiles were being steered by a drunk computer.

Nevertheless, with a final burst of will I had all four missiles plow into the freighter.

Their onboard safeties meant they didn’t detonate properly.

Instead they acted like heavy bullets that tore through the relatively thin hull of the civilian freighter.

I had been aiming for the launcher itself, but missed, instead two missiles tore through and shattered inside a crew compartment, whilst the third went through a small passage inside the freighter, severing conduits.

The fourth punctured just behind the characteristic conical cockpit of the YT, and the resultant uncontrolled energy release from the shattered repulsors and shrapnel, turned the pilot into a gooey red mist that coated the cockpit interior liberally.

The assassin was dead, but his last act had been to trigger the final missile he had in his 10-shot launcher a moment before.

The missile roared straight through my moment of recovery, as I was gathering the Force to launch a final desperate Push.

The balcony was lit up with blue light and a constant cacophony as HK let rip with his blaster cannon on full auto.

An explosion lit up the night sky again.

Then I only felt pain as the overpressure slammed into my montrals and body as if some great giant had stomped on them with his foot.

I did the only thing I could at this point and pushed past the pain to intentionally pass out.

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A/N: The truth is revealed, somewhat. It's going to take a while for Padme to digest, there will be more convo and reaction about it, especially after the convention of assassins problem is solved. Not to mention Anakin's eventual reaction. Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend.

EDIT: Fixed continuity issue.

Anakin by an AI & I.

After much massaging of words to the Dreamshaper AI, experimentation, dozens of iterations and further manual editing by hand with my digital paint tools to fix things that it just didn't want to do properly, I've arrived at this image and now bring it to you.

I'm still not entirely happy with it, as the AI just doesn't seem to get the reflected lighting from the lightsaber onto Anakin's face right. The lightsaber handle is woefully incorrect and I know of no benefit of having the forefinger at that position (Fine control of a weightless blade?). The eyes are also an issue but AI are notorious for getting that wrong and it really feels like its using RNG to determine whether to give proper eyes or not.

This is an experiment and also my question to you, my awesome Patrons.

Would you like to see more art in this manner? Please comment with a simple Yes or No, or whatever your opinion is.

I'll always keep going with my traditional art, can't let these machines take everything away, but we all have to tack our sails in the direction of the wind. AI, if it develops further to AGI levels must become a partner to the human race, there's no other acceptable alternative - otherwise we get Shodan or Skynet. Current AI are powerful virtual tools at best with flaws that can be outwitted and abused. They must be used responsibly AND we should not ascribe these tools more power over us than is wise. Otherwise clever, bad humans will use these tools against us. 

The Force Wills - Chapter 53

I woke up early the next morning, put the final finishing touches on my report and delivered it directly into the hands of a bemused Obi-Wan. He was less than enthused though when I told him that Padme had requested me to accompany her to Alderaan. I couldn’t tell him the full story, as the Jedi Temple was an open book to Palpatine at the moment. That any Force Vision was possible would be a big red flag to the Sith Lord.

“Oh very well, since we have your report and it’s a senator making the request,” he said, pocketing the datapad into his robes.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi,” I bowed with a smile.

“Do give Senator Amidala my regards.”

“I will.”

I donned my M8 Aegis, grabbed my single luggage bag and met HK, who had grabbed an automated public taxi for our use.

Thankfully I could use my Jedi credentials to allow it to travel into the lower altitudes of the Senatorial district and land on one of the large temporary repulsor platforms that was occasionally raised into the air to allow senators to board and land starships without having to leave the district.

Landed on this one was a Nubian J-type Diplomatic Barge that was assigned by the Naboo government for Padme’s use. Like all products from Theed Palace Space Vessel Engineering, it was an incredibly beautiful starship that made me want to buy one just as a ‘hangar queen’ - to sit there, safe and simply be admired.

It was an extremely wide design, nearly 91 meters in width, most of that being shaped wings, with two engine nacelles mounted on either side of the main hull. It featured a skin entirely plated in energy resistant, shimmering chromium. The wide wings weren’t just for aerodynamics in case of engine failure in an atmosphere, but featured four recharge and linking points for N1 starfighters that allowed the J-Type to carry those fighters through hyperspace.

For further defense, the ship had monstrously strong shields for its size, a full military ECM suite, and dual hyperdrive cores for redundancy that pushed it to a 0.7 speed rating, letting it outrun nearly anything in the galaxy. Our trip to Alderaan would just be under twenty-six hours as a result.

“Commentary: It could use some guns of its own,” HK let out a mock sniff from his vocal processor.

“I think it’s pretty,” M8 declared.

“Resignation: Of course, you would,” he said as the taxi landed.

HK and M8 had so far had a very ambivalent relationship, as they were both still getting to know one another. HK had initially felt quite sorry for my power armor’s intelligence, as M8 would be getting to know the ‘disgusting inner workings of meatbags’ very well.

M8 didn’t consider organics ‘disgusting’, her entire purpose was to protect me and help me. One big part of that was monitoring my vitals, overall health, including regulating temperature and disposing of my bodily waste. Yes, I could even go to the ‘toilet’ in my armor. So far from considering organics with the derisive term of ‘meatbags’, she found our workings ‘rather fascinating’, the complete opposite of HK.

M8 was too young in her development for full opinions on complex topics, so was rather childlike in most things. She considered HK simply ‘rude’ and the only thing she truly disliked at the moment was anyone who would potentially ‘harm her mistress’.

We disembarked from the taxi and were met by Captain Typho, who made a final scan and weapons check before we were allowed to board the Barge, which I learned had the name; King Jafan.

The interior was as sleek, luxurious and hi-tech as I would expect of a ship bearing the name of the first true monarch of all Naboo, who had united the old city-states of the planet through will and force of arms, ushering in their Great Era of Peace.

It had a full crew of five manning the major ship functions, including five guards from the RNSF.

We were shown to one of the four diplomatic quarters, which was again stupendously luxurious to cater to even the most snobbish head of state or diplomat.

I got out of M8 and redressed into my much more comfortable Hapan attire.

I had barely done that when I spotted through the small window of the suite that the King Jafan was moving. It had already begun its take-off cycle and began powering through the air to gain altitude.

I hadn’t felt a thing. No vibration, engine noises, whines, nothing.

Given the sensitivity of my montrals, that was bloody amazing.

“Statement: The sound and vibration dampening systems are quite impressive, Master. Conclusion: No doubt to prevent complaints from political meatbags with egos that could crack planets.”

“That’s the idea,” said Padme, whose face twitched with amusement from the main door to the suite.

“Morning Padme,” I bowed reflexively.

She tutted at me in disapproval before stepping forward to give me a hug. “I trust you had no problems from the Jedi Council accompanying me?”

“No, I bring fond regards from Master Kenobi.”

“Thank you. It would be nice if he could visit in person at some point. Queen Neeyutnee has a standing order that I must try to get him to visit Naboo. She hopes she can get a state banquet off the ground in his honor.”

“Which is precisely what Master Kenobi is hoping to avoid,” I chuckled in amusement.

“I tried to explain that Jedi don’t like those sorts of things, but she has her mind set on it.”

“It’s not like the Naboo elect flighty queens, after all,” I teased her.

“No, they do not,” Padme said primly. “Now, you’ve had breakfast?” I nodded. “Good, then you can join me for a nice chat over a board of Dejarik.”

“Uh,” I winced, feeling rather put on the spot. “Sorry, I don’t know how to play.”

Padme was rather taken aback. “You? Miss I-coordinate-entire-fleets-of-starships-in-battle, don’t know dejarik?”

“It’s not exactly required learning in either the Jedi Academy or in command school, Padme. I just haven’t had the time.”

It wasn’t as if dejarik had any relevance at even a tactical level to battles in space between fleets and ships. Yes, it could probably teach modes of lateral thinking and working within unit limitations, but that was really it.

“Well, then I will teach you,” she said firmly, grabbed me by the hand and led me out of the suite.

“Yes, ma’am.”

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My only experience with dejarik up until that point was literally the few scenes from media I had seen in another life. Even in the Corusca galaxy, it wasn’t a game that had been played on Shili, by either my parents or in the village. In the Jedi Temple, such games for younglings were not promoted at all. My quest for knowledge on the Force and my training took priority. The little free time and hobbies I had was devoted to pod racing and the only ‘board game’ I knew was pazaak.

So, as the King Jafan, entered hyperspace Padme began her instruction.

A tap on the control panel caused the circular holoboard table to come to life with all manner of holographic creatures, currently all standing at the edge of the board. Each creature had their own idle animations, which were very diverse; from swaying in some non-existent breeze, arguing with each other with animalistic growls, whilst others were munching on food messily.

I recognized some of these creatures, as they actually existed on different planets of the Mid and Outer Rim, whilst others were mythical, from a variety of cultures. Whoever had first invented dejarik certainly hadn’t been culturally biased when it came time to pick which creatures to include.

“Let’s begin with the board,” Padme gestured. “It’s circular and there are three gradually shrinking circles inside the boundary, the outer and middle circles are divided into twelve alternately colored spaces. The inner circle is only divided into four spaces. The first important rule to note, no creature may move through or jump over this inner circle.”

“Simulating impassable terrain,” I nodded in understanding.

“Correct, let’s begin with a basic opening setup.” She tapped on her controls. The creatures vanished and reappeared in a configuration that I struggled to make sense of, though I noted that one group of them had gained a red hue, whilst other a blue hue. “The first thing to understand is that each creature belongs to a class. The first are Brutes, the Mantellian Savrip is the blue side’s brute and the Kintan Strider is the red side’s brute. They are the only creatures that have to be deployed in the middle circle, they can’t start anywhere else. The rest of the creatures, it doesn’t matter, they just have to start around the brute.”

“So why do the brutes need to be there?”

“It has to do with how it can move and its attacks,” she answered eagerly. “I’ll get to that. Another rule, the youngest player always moves first.”

I blinked as my mind tried to digest that. “Really? Not Red first or Blue first?”

“No, in age, the youngest player always moves first, so you in this case.”

“All right.”

“Now the thing to keep in mind is that, in dejarik, an attack and movement are considered separate actions.The creatures move in different patterns and where they can attack is also different. However, the Brutes are the exception to this. They are the most powerful piece on the board, they can move and attack in any direction, but only one block adjacent.

“This is also the reason it has to start in this circle, because it has a special move. If a brute is standing on the outer circle, it can move backward and reappear on the opposite side of the board. However, it cannot be an attack, it’s just a movement.”

Padme advanced the holopieces to demonstrate.

“Got it,” I nodded.

“Next, we have the Predator class, represented by the K’lor’slug for blue, and Ng’ok for red. The Predator can move two spaces left or right and one space forward or back, they can also jump over other pieces. It attacks in a Mern shape.” That would be L shape for English “Then we have the Guardians, Molator for the blue team and Monnok for the red. They move one space forward or back, and move in a Mern to the left and right. They attack two spaces to the right and left only.

“The final class is the Scout. Ghhhk for the blues and Houjix for the red. They can move two spaces in any direction. It can attack one space forward or backward. It’s also special in that it can attack before or after moving in the same turn, but it can only do so once, no chaining attacks.”

“Okay, understandable,” I said as my mind started making sense of the whirlwind of complexity that was possible with a ruleset like this.

“This is just the most basic form of dejarik, there are other forms of the game, where the creatures have individual statistics based on offense, defense and movement, they move differently and the board has different rules, but let’s start slow.”

I laughed. “Okay, kiddy version for me, let’s go.”

What followed was that Padme predictably whipped my ass.

Even if I cheated and used Prescience to predict what she was going to do, (which felt like being a bad sport), I was just too inexperienced with the game to make any use of knowing that.

The conversation we were having over the game also didn’t help matters.

“If only Naboo’s experience with the Trade Federation blockade was so…” she trailed off and shook her head. “That was unworthy of me.”

“Yes, the circumstances were different, Padme. The Federation would’ve had to actually pay the cost in blood if they wanted to invade Pantora. A cost they were unwilling to bear, so it stayed an orbital blockade.”

“But the Naboo Blockade was about more than just money,” she said bitterly, moving her Molator piece to take my Monnok. “Ever since you spoke of the state of things, I’ve been thinking about those events. It all makes so much more sense now. The enemy was behind it all, using it for his own ambition and schemes.”

I used my scout Houjix to messily stomp her Molator to death. “Naboo was the final piece in a much larger machination, Padme. A greater one that’s scope is measured by at least two centuries. You know by now how the enemy works. The Outer Rim and Mid Rim to a lesser extent has been slowly driven into a corner via carefully weaponized economics and policies of the Republic. From a certain point of view, you could say they’ve been at the controls for quite a long time, but because no one is so long lived, they can’t see the ‘big picture’. Those who are long lived and might be able to make the connections are few and far between. They usually are wise enough to also stay out of politics and so have no power to change or impede the enemy anyway.”

“And now we’re sitting with a galactic war and all the ills and consequences it brings.” Her K’lor’slug jumped over her own Mantellian Savrup to catch my Kintan Strider. I groaned briefly in frustration at having missed that play.

“Such as the refugees.”

She nodded, “The intelligence that’s crossed my desk is not easy to stomach. The systems and planets this war is being fought in naturally lose a lot of infrastructure and jobs. People are losing the means to care for their families or they simply fear for their own lives, they either flee into the wilderness or if they can afford it, get transport offworld to try and start a new life at the next port or deeper into the core worlds. There are also criminal syndicates preying upon the refugees, offering them transport to destinations of their choice but in the process robbing them until they barely have the clothes on their backs.”

“Just another aspect of the war the enemy is using,” I said wearily, rubbing my forehead.

Padme sat back and scowled at the dejarik board as my Ng’ok took her K’lor’slug. I hated seeing that expression on her face. “Even if this conference produces the ideal results I want, all it amounts to is throwing water on a fire that’s already burned a building down.”

“That may be,” I admitted. “But if it makes a difference in the life of a single person, then it’ll be worth it. Upon any single life, may the future hinge and potentially change everything.”

Padme smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m supposed to be the older, wiser one and here you are, trying to cheer me up.”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea to have the one chairing this conference be lost to despair, now would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t. Another game?”

“Why not? Got to at least beat you once on this trip.”

“You’re welcome to try, Ahsoka,” she smirked with a challenging stare.

“There is no try.”

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The best spot on the King Jafan for an exterior view was on the small bridge of the diplomatic barge. Thankfully the five crewmen and women working here didn’t object to my presence. On the contrary, they were all in the RNSF and knew that I had saved their world from becoming ground zero of a new outbreak of the Blue Shadow virus. The co-pilot even came forward and asked me to sign my signature onto a flimsi, so he could later etch it onto a replica lightsaber.

Signatures by themselves in the Corusca Galaxy didn’t mean much in proving anything, unless they were backed up by the DNA encoding and were proven authentic by an expert. He wasn’t asking for that, just the ‘image’ of my signature would be enough. That there were lightsaber replicas as a niche hobby industry at all on Naboo was something of a revelation. The Jedi Order as a rule didn’t like civilian museums displaying Jedi artifacts or even making replicas and it was the primary reason the Order had an Explorer division. If people wanted to see the history or artifacts of the Jedi Order - they could freely go on a guided tour of the Temple itself.

The problem was the opportunity and monetary cost of travel to Coruscant was more than some people could afford, so on distant civilized worlds, museums tried their best to satisfy demand and it was another reason that Jedi Chapterhouses existed.

The rolling tunnel of hyperspace fractured and streaked into stars before even those stars seemingly vanished, all thanks to the reflected light coming from the jewel of a planet that had appeared in front of me.

A blue-green orb streaked with white cloud formations. It was as if some painter had come along and decided to make the most aesthetically pleasing weather formations a permanent thing.

The vast bodies of water, snow capped mountains that begged to be skied down, the ancient palaces and estates of old Alderaanian Houses, meticulously preserved by those same families over thousands of years. Hills blanketed with grassland that rivaled Naboo. The gentle thranta, domesticated or wild, gliding through the air with keen wails that echoed through the air. Muskwoods as far as the eye could see in some places. Starblossoms displaying their beauty for only that brief period of time when the celestial alignments were perfect. The two billion souls who called this place home; their loves, their losses, their art, their imperfections…

It was at this point that I realized I had started using Farsight to actually see all this.

I wanted to nearly break down and weep.

Many were those in another life, who had witnessed the callous destruction of this world with such contemptuous ease and had it etched onto their hearts, because it reminded them how their own small little world was under threat of nuclear annihilation and how easy it would be for ‘Alderaan’ to happen to a similar wonderfully beautiful world.

Seeing this vision of Alderaan, made it all the more visceral and was tearing at my heart.

The death of this world in the future, would be a giant bell struck, to wake up the galaxy to at last see the darkness and apathy that had engulfed it.

It showed that the Empire did not care where a planet was; Core, Mid Rim, Outer Rim. If you disobeyed, if you rebelled, if you did anything that was considered undesirable, your planet would be blown to dust.

It was the rally cry of the Rebellion, the true gust of wind it needed in its sails to truly become a threat to the Empire.

Now, as if I didn’t need more motivation to prevent the Imperial Order from being established, here it was.

“Are you all right, Ahsoka?”

Padme’s concerned voice pulled me back and I looked back and smiled at her briefly, patting her hand reassuringly as she had touched my bicep to gain my attention. I also swiped at an errant tear from my left eye.

“Fine, I’m fine. This is my first visit to Alderaan. For someone with my perception, it’s difficult not to be moved by not just this place’s beauty but its… history.”

I looked into her eyes pointedly as I said that and she nodded that she understood my subtext somewhat. She knew I saw the future, so at least that I had seen something that was causing my grief.

I took in what she was wearing at this point and wished irrationally that the Jedi had a formalized outfit that wasn’t just fancy tunics, long boots and robes.

It was a threaded, white and gold silk-like dress, that stretched to her ankles, but was cut to expose her left leg with each step. Around her waist was a half-corset/half-belt of sorts, it didn’t need to pull in anything and was just there to show off an intricate leather design, as well as delicately emphasizing her bust. The neckline plunged enough to show just a touch of cleavage. The dress continued to cover her shoulders with thin pauldrons that flared outward to almost cover her elbows, hung from there and covering her back was a flighty soft cloak. The cherry on top of this wondrous outfit, was the detached collar/choker hybrid with an elegant jewel hanging from it.

Gah, can this woman dress imperfectly for once in her life, I thought in fond exasperation. It felt almost like a crime to be standing next to her in my standard Hapan Jedi outfit.

“Come, we’re about to land. I’m sure Bail will be thrilled to hear his world’s beauty was able to  reduce a Jedi to tears.”

“Oh please don’t, Padme,” I groaned in embarrassment.

She laughed pleasantly and led me to the rear of the ship, HK and the rest of the RNSF security detail was already waiting.

I spent the descent through the atmosphere further taking in the beauty of the planet with Farsight as the ship approached the capital city, Aldera.

If I had to compare it to any one place on old Earth, it was like New Zealand’s most picturesque locations, stretched across an entire planet.

Even the city, as nestled as it was among mountains that Bob Ross could spend a lifetime painting, had architecture with organic and rounded shaping to make it seem like it belonged there naturally and didn’t impugn or take away from the natural beauty.

Finally the King Jafan touched down on an exterior landing pad of what looked to be a government building that belonged to the Alderaanian Parliament.

“Final checks, pressure equalized… security scans complete,” announced Captain Typho, staring into a holo-readout from his vambrace. “Lowering ramp.”

The ship broke its seals and I breathed the planet’s natural and fresh air. The moment the ramp confirmed its lock, Padme led the way, with Typho to her right, myself and HK to her left, whilst the rest of the RNSF security contingent followed.

Waiting for us was Bail Prestor Organa, or otherwise known as His Serene Highness, Prince Bail Organa, First Chairman and Viceroy of Alderaan. At his side was his wife, Queen Breha Organa. Talk about a power couple. Bail was a Jimmy Smits given a slightly different spin, whilst Breha was another beauty that could stand right next to Padme in terms of looks. Breha had a slightly stronger jawline with piercing brown eyes and long black hair.

Following the royal couple was another familiar face I recognized… a younger Mon Mothma.

If there was one figure of the future I both admired and despised, then it was the current senator for Chandrila.

She would be one of primary reasons the Rebellion would succeed on a political and moral level and the reestablishment of the Republic, then absolutely bungle it all up with her compromises in the name of peace at any price and nostalgia for a return to the idealistic ‘High’ Republic. Planting the seeds of what would potentially either destroy and nearly cripple the New Republic before even a generation had properly passed.

“Padme,” Bail said graciously, smiling at seeing his good friend again.

“Bail, it’s so good to see you,” she extended her hand and they fondly joined hands, “Breha.” As they were both ‘queens’, Breha being an active one, whilst Padme retained the social status of one, there was no curtseying or bowing and the two women hugged each other with smiles.

“Padme, it's so good to have you back on Alderaan,” Breha smiled. “You still owe me a thranta ride.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Padme said primly with mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Bail, I just want to thank you for hosting this conference. Dealing with the refugees of this war needs to be one of our highest priorities.”

“Absolutely,” he affirmed sincerely. “Your presence here will certainly sway hearts and minds to support your initiative in parliament. Come, we will show you to your quarters.”

I gave a brief look behind me to check that worker droids were offloading luggage and the RNSF detail was already spread out with macrobinoculars and other scanners at the perimeter, checking for snipers.

HK and I hurried along, just a few meters behind all the VIPs as we all entered the building. The Alderaanian royal couple naturally had their own security detail, consisting seemingly of just four armed and armored guards who stayed on the flanks. I could sense the attention of at least a dozen more, who stayed out of sight completely in adjoining rooms.

“HK, you’ve got the itinerary, what’s your opinion?” I spoke softly.

“Objection: Master, you might as well ask an artist what another artist is going to paint.”

“I know, but all art involves a common element to some degree. Now stop making me flog this metaphor further and answer the question.”

“Evaluation: I see three avenues of attack. Firstly, in close. This would require the reprogramming of a common, normally overlooked device to be lethal in some manner. That is assuming the meatbag assassin has the required skills to slice through the security in this building or possess the infiltration skills to do the deed on site. The use of a changeling would also greatly facilitate this.”

“Padme and RNSF have gone to considerable lengths to prevent changeling infiltration, you can downgrade that in your threat matrix.”

The measures taken were quite impressive and rather simple. Every member of her security and staff were required to step into a scanning booth every six hours, that had been installed on her ships and in her apartment on Coruscant. The booth not only did remote scanning to sniff out changelings but also did a small blood sampling. The results were then sent immediately via encrypted hyperspace back to three independent locations back on Naboo and to a nearby sleeper RNSF security team that constantly shadowed Padme. In theory, even if the entire household had been replaced by clawdites, the sleeper team would be able to step in and resolve the situation. They even solved the problem of assassination by some or other exotic deadly creepy crawly, but placing and hiding high resolution life sign sensors in her apartment, the kind you’d normally only find in a lab.

“Acquiescence: Very well, Master. Cautionary: Such measures among the Alderani are not present. Further evaluation: Attack from distance. A straightforward sniper shot on the target, made more complicated by the fact that the various venues this conference will take place in are indoors and not entirely large spaces. This would mean infiltration skills and technology for the assassin to gain entry to this building.”

“What is your evaluation of building security?”

“Answer: Adequate to high, but with vulnerabilities I could easily exploit. Explanation: The current state of the art detection technologies are currently superior to the technology used to shield and subvert from them. This building does not contain such a high standard due to the expense and inefficiency of meatbag bureaucratic organization. Conclusion: A well equipped and funded assassin would find no problems infiltrating this building, master.”

I nodded as we turned a corner and started walking down a long curving hallway, decorated with patterned black and white carpeting that looked to be in imitation of some animal camouflage. “What else?”

“Answer: Indirect attack. This would involve disguising an explosive into a device or furniture that the target would be using at some point.”

“You’d think a government building like this would have sensors to detect that.”

“Clarification: They do, but again, the sensors are not state of the art, master.”

“So an assassin with good enough backing can make it through.”

“Affirmative: Yes, Master.”

I switched to speaking English, “That narrows down the list of whoever ordered the hit somewhat, but not enough. There’s still the matter of the assassin herself.”

“Query: Have you divined anything through the Force, Master?” replied HK in kind.

“Now that I’m here on Alderaan, yes. A female, a species I’m not entirely certain of, will have to research. She also has someone in support, maybe working the tech angle. They work well together, and have a friendly rapport with each other, probably long term partners.”

We reached a door at this point, which smoothly parted for the VIPs, beyond which was an elegant, well appointed living room with open couches and a truly pristine windowed view of a mountain range. It was luxurious, but not ostentatious.

Inside though, Queen Breha turned to face me before she took her seat. “Pardon me, Padawan…?”

I stepped forward and bowed appropriately, “Padawan Ahsoka Tano. Yes, Serene Highness?”

“Forgive me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. A consequence of courtly life, I’m afraid, so I have very good hearing. I also have an affinity for languages and I’m not familiar with that last one you used.”

“I’d be very surprised if you did, highness. It is an ancient tongue, very old, I can’t even really give you a date. This makes it an ideal language to converse in a potentially unsecure location or when you can’t be sure if you’re under surveillance.”

“Remarkably useful then and a pity that I can’t really ask to learn it from you. It sounds… unrefined yet strangely as if it could also be beautiful.”

“It can be, it lends itself to rhyme and poetry, though I’m afraid I don’t know any or have had the time to write any in it.”

“Perhaps one day then, if you feel comfortable about it, you can teach me?” Breha smiled and sat down next to her husband.

“Very well, highness.”

“HK, full sweep of these quarters, then begin ranging outward. I’ll continue divining while keeping watch here.”

“Agreement: Very well, Master.”

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For the next hour or so, the four VIPs mingled and chatted about every subject that you could care to name. They scrupulously avoided any topic related to the war, and were probably saving that for later during a more appropriate setting. The bond and friendship I was sensing between Padme, Bail and Breha, neatly explained how one day the couple would in another timeline, raise Leia Organa Skywalker with such devotion and love.

I could also sense Breha’s own problem with conceiving children, now that I looked closely and it was unfortunately something that would require rather extensive genetic sculpting to fix or making use of some form of Artificial Womb tech. That such options were not done when they were clearly available spoke to some form of bias or personal choice against the technology. It might be that any such children wouldn’t be considered true heirs to the Alderaanian throne.

My explorations of the probability lines continued until at last I had a piece of the puzzle I was looking for - a location.

“Captain Typho, how familiar are you with the parliament?”

“I’ve done security for the senator here before, when she was still queen, why do you ask?”

“I have a probable location; long oval room, tiered seating, eight long desks on either side of a central aisle with space for four seats, all leading towards a raised desk with five chairs, on the back wall a mural painting with a regal figure holding a large basin of water.”

He nodded in understanding, “I think I know the place, padawan. It sounds like the Panteer Hall, where the parliament usually holds general consultation meetings with Prince Organa. It is on the itinerary as one of the locations where Senator Amidala is due to give a speech tonight.”

“Thank you.”

I carefully approached the back of Padme’s couch. “Senator, a word, please.”

She looked at me and after a moment of scrutiny excused herself from Mon Mothma’s conversation.

“What is it, Ahsoka?” She asked once we were out of earshot on the other side of the room.

“I have a location for the assassination. I want to check it out, but neither Captain Typho nor I want to leave you out of our sight.”

She sighed with a mild smile at us both. “Very well. I’ll go make my excuses with Bail.”

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We didn’t go directly to Panteer Hall, in case the would-be assassins were tapped into surveillance. Instead, we simply walked through the different venues and rooms of Padme’s itinerary, as if we were just conducting a routine final security sweep.

It gave me a nice tour of the Alderaani Parliament in the process, a building that dated back to the war against the Sith Brotherhood. There were even a few murals on the walls depicting the triumphant marches of the Army of Light across Alderaan. The artist was quite good, if a little over-the-top in his color choices and I highly doubted that the Jedi leading the army actually radiated light like that literally.

When we finally entered the hall, I was hit with both deja vu and feeling the probability lines seemingly crystalizing in front of me.

It was very hard to compartmentalize my emotions of horror and shock at seeing Padme take a blaster bolt to the chest. It was putting blinkers on my sight, fixing my gaze, threatening to cut me off from seeing other possibilities and perhaps even the true danger was not the sniper. I pushed to see beyond that harrowing moment.

I nearly fell into a loop of frustration and anger at myself for not being able to move past it.

Accept it and move on.

How could I accept this? This was the death of Padme! The mother of Luke and Leia Skywalker! My best friend! The wife of Anakin! The woman…

Accept it and move on!

Don’t be ridiculous.

I cast off my anger as the two major sides of me battled in mind and heart.

“Ahsoka?” Padme’s voice pulled my attention back outward, even as the battle continued.

I let the useless stupid annoyance at the interruption pass through me.

“Yes, this is it.”

My Farsight cast a wide net as my perception moved through every nook and cranny the place had. Once I was satisfied I had a proper mental map of the place, I turned around and gestured for the two to follow me. I found a blind spot in the hallway surveillance and made a few hand signals to Typho.

He nodded and pulled out a small device that he activated, which let out a high chirp as it began jamming.

Padme raised an eyebrow at the precaution, “They’re actually watching?”

“Yes. The building’s surveillance has been subverted. We’re in a blind spot so we can speak freely.”

“What did you sense?”

“A blaster bolt will hit you in the upper left chest area, the angle seems to indicate a high elevation. Most likely coming from a maintenance catwalk that is up there.”

“Then we will be waiting for them,” Typho said determinedly.

“No, you will not,” I retorted. “It is not merely enough to stop this one attack. We need to find and stop the person who started all this.”

“You intend to use the senator as bait,” he snapped, though he was professional enough to keep his anger impressively moderated.

“That is entirely up to the senator,” I folded my arms and glared at him. “The attack I’m seeing is too simple. There is more to this than just a sniper.”

“Ahsoka,” Padme put a hand on my arm and looked at me pointedly. “Please explain for those of us not attuned to the Force.”

“I can sense that there’s more than what I’m seeing. These assassins are not inexperienced or unprofessional. I know I’m seeing a blinkered point of view.”

Typho frowned for a moment, “So, you think that the sniper attack is too amateurish for the caliber of assassin you’re seeing in your vision?”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said with frustration.

“Are you sure you’re not just overestimating things, Ahsoka?” Padme asked gently. “Simplicity has a value of its own. I’ve been trained from a young age in counter-assassination and the greatest thing that we fear is not the professionals, but rather the simple, disgruntled, chaotic gunman, who everyone overlooks.”

“The problem here is that I sense the sponsor for this hit is not someone to take lightly at all. They definitely aren’t some random thug off the street.”

“All right, Ahsoka, so what would you have Captain Typho do?”

Accept it and move on!

Padme was shot… her body fell… yes…

…I…

…I accept this truth.

The Force bond materialized in my heart.

The moment came and I felt like I wanted to facepalm myself through my blasted thick skull. Peace settled on the battlefield that was my heart and mind…

“This is what we’re going to do.”

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Panteer Hall was filled to the brim with members of the Alderani Parliament; assistants, staffers and security from the RNSF and Alderaan Security. A constant low level din hung in the air as everyone whispered and muttered about their own affairs and also about the coming speech from Padme.

Prince Bail Organa stood from his central seat on the raised desk and instant silence fell on the hall.

“Greetings to all members of the parliament and honored guests. I welcome you all to this keynote speech and hope it will bring clarity and understanding. Thus far today, we’ve had smaller gatherings and given the opportunity for many of you to have your say on the challenges that face us. Both myself, Queen Breha and senior ministers have attended as many of these as possible and heard your concerns. Now comes the time to address them. As the conflict that divides our galaxy escalates. We cannot lose perspective on the value of life and the price of freedom. No one knows this better than the distinguished senator, Padme Amidala of Naboo. I now turn the floor over to her.”

Padme stood from her seat to the left of the prince and stepped forward to a raised podium.

“Thank you, Prince Organa. I wanted to first thank you all for coming. This is a cause that is very important to me. I can remember after the blockade and invasion of my homeworld, so many lives were thrown into chaos. True, in the grand scale of things, it was a small conflict and there was only one battle fought in that occupation. However, just that single battle caused great destruction. Thousands of Naboo were forced from their homes. Naboo security forces suffered heavy casualties doing their duty. Even Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn was lost.

“And now I find myself party to a full scale galactic war and witness to a Republic that has split itself in half. There are now hundreds of Naboos across the galaxy on an even greater scale, with battles fought across entire planets. Space in the frontline systems is littered with the wreckage of ships that clog up navigation. People are fleeing wherever they can, to restart their lives in the hopes that the chaos will not catch up with them again.”

I leaned down slowly next to the prone cloaked figure who was slowly taking her aim through the vent grill. I could see through her scope that she was taking aim right at Padme’s heart.

The sniper took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

She frowned as nothing happened. Then tried to squeeze it again, only to find that the trigger wouldn’t pull at all.

“Rumi, what’s happening? You were supposed to take the shot.” The voice in the sniper’s ear hissed.

“Gun’s jammed.”

“What? Impossible!”

“You think I don’t know that. I serviced this thing just this morning. Go with the backup plan.”

“Client’s not gonna be happy about this, Rumi.”

“Well, he wanted her dead. She’ll be dead. Now it will just have to be a closed casket.”

I carefully pushed along the Force Bond.

Padme immediately threw herself backward with all the speed she could muster, along with a bit of help from me.

In the next moment, a domed blue shield sprung to life around the podium, and a moment later the shrapnel spitter inside detonated.

I could sense the stunned disbelief from Rumi the sniper and her partner over their comlink as they took in weeks of careful infiltration work evaporating in smoke and chaos. Thankfully, HK’s modified personal shield had worked as he said it would, to turn the cleverly disguised shrapnel spitter in the podium into a useless lightshow.

The shield burnt itself out in a few seconds due the ad-hoc modification, but it had done its job.

The RNSF and ASF swarmed onto the stage, doing a well drilled routine, carrying shields and blasters to form a wall of bodies to protect Bail and Padme. There were screams and shouts of fright as the ministers and staffers tried to run at first but were blocked by more security personnel taking charge of the evacuation, to make sure people weren’t trampled.

“Rumi! What… what… argh… ow, put me down, who… what are you?”

“Answer: I am designation HK-47, assassin droid. Sincere Statement: Thank you for the challenge of tracing you. Pleading request: My master only gave me permission to kill you if you resisted or tried to escape. Please resist.”

Bloody droid.

I relaxed the Force Perception on Rumi’s mind and her very sensitive Frenk nose picked up on my scent immediately.

She froze and I felt her emotions skyrocket with alarm and fear. I also felt her next intent.

“Don’t move,” I said softly.

She naturally didn’t listen and reached for a blaster pistol with quite impressive speed, whirling her adroit, flexible body around from a prone position to try to get a bead on me.

My TK grabbed her bodily, ripping the blaster from her hand and sending it skidding down the catwalk.

I hovered her in mid air in a vitruvian man pose and started to rip every device she had from her body.

“Argh, no! Let-”

Her jaw clamped shut as I was forced to take control of it as well. She had a small dart launcher secreted away in that wide mouth, including a number of tiny devices in her teeth, one of which was a suicide tool.

“I apologize for the pain you’re about to feel. I’m not exactly skilled enough yet to juggle healing abilities and TK at the same time and do a good job of it.”

I raised a hand to aid my focus and twitched a finger. Rumi started moaning in pain behind her shut mouth.

“Easy, easy, just a few more moments… there we go.”

I opened her mouth and out came the tooth in question as she gargled in pain on the blood leaking from the void where it had been.

I let it fall to the floor and also hovered the pooled blood out so she wouldn’t choke on it. My curiosity wouldn’t leave me alone so I spared a bit of concentration on making sense of the suicide tooth. There was definitely electronics in there…

My back shuddered in horror as I realized just how this suicide tooth did its job. This wasn’t the messy quick death of a lethal chemical. Nothing so primitive. It was a neural depolarizer. She set this off and it would cause instant death via the zeroing of every neuron in her brain and nervous system. She’d literally become a lifeless ‘meatbag’.

That she even had this form of suicide implanted spoke of either an extremely committed individual to never betray a client or someone desperate to never experience capture or torture in any way and take her secrets with her.

My comlink chimed for attention.

“Yes, HK?”

“Reporting: Mission success, Master. I have the meatbag partner of the assassin. Hopeful query: Can I help with the interrogation, Master?”

“No, stick to the plan HK and deliver him to Alderani Security without any harm. They will want to know how their security was breached.”

“Disappointed Obeyance: Very well, Master. Signing you off.”

Rumi was rather frantic at this point and her eyes were twitching in every direction desperately. Her fear was growing greater with each moment I held her like this. It was generally natural for anyone to feel that way when held like this, but this was something else. I sensed that I was practically stomping on a past trauma at the moment.

I pulled out two sets of mag binders and secured both her hands and feet together, before letting her down hog-tied on the floor.

The instant she had voluntary control of her mouth and body, she started swearing and cursing me in a completely unfamiliar language with a rather impressive vitriol. Then she even tried mixing spit and blood together to nail me in the face.

The disgusting globule stopped in mid air and I made a bit of a show, flicking my fingers to send it off to the side to splatter against the wall.

“Now that that’s out of your system, perhaps we can talk like civilized beings. We both had a job to do. You failed, end of story. Your partner is in custody. Either you or he will talk eventually. Alderaan doesn’t have the death penalty, which is rather fortunate in this case, because I don’t think death scares you at all. What Alderaan does have, is life imprisonment and given you played with a shrapnel spitter within arms reach of Prince Organa, the alderani will make that life imprisonment in solitary confinement.” Given that her fear level spiked again at the mere thought, my hunch was correct. “So Rumi, I’ll ask once and if you answer truthfully, I will do everything in my power to make sure your sentence is reduced if you cooperate. Do you understand?”

Her fear turned to anger and she glared at me. “Yes, and my answer is no.”

“The hard way it is then,” I sighed in disappointment as running footsteps reached my montrals.

Captain Typho and two RNSF security men appeared around the corner of the catwalk, blasters in hand.

“Padawan Tano,” he said in relief. “This her?”

I nodded, “Be careful with this one, don’t give her an inch. I had to remove a suicide implant.”

He gestured and Rumi was picked up and awkwardly carried by his subordinates.

“Understood, we’ll take every precaution, we have a lot of questions for her.”

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It was a few hours later and almost midnight, local time.

I had delayed the natural onset of sleep and approached the door to Padme’s quarters with the kind of dread that was somehow worse than the thought of facing Sidious himself in a lightsaber duel.

My hand tapped on the chime button and I heard it resonate inside.

The doors opened and I walked carefully inside only to find no one inside the living room. My eyes were drawn to the balcony though and Padme was standing outside, gazing at the beautiful view of the surrounding mountain ranges bathed with moonlight and starlight. She was wearing an elegant silk-like sleeping gown and nursing some sort of beverage, idly twirling it as she also hugged herself.

“Please join me, Ahsoka.”

I let my fear and dread go, letting it pass through me. It was very difficult to do for some reason.

With a fortifying deep breath I walked forward and outside into the pleasantly cool and fresh air.

I ended up leaning on the balcony railing and my eyes were unable to resist drinking in the wondrous natural view.

Alderaan was naturally beautiful even at night.

I heard her take a sip of something that my nose was telling me was fruity and sweet. “Ahsoka, what is this?” Her gentle, encouraging tone made it even worse. She should be angry, but she wasn’t.

“What you’re experiencing… Padme… is a Force Bond - with me.”

“I… you mean, that’s why when I think about you hard enough I can feel what you’re feeling?”

“Yes,” I laughed ruefully. “Figures something that is generally considered to be impossible happens to me.”

“I don’t understand, why do the Jedi think that this can’t happen?”

“Everything in their own experience of the Force says so, but even the Jedi can’t claim to be all knowing about what the Force can and can’t do. What arrogance to even think that way. An orthodox Jedi would say that a Force Bond is impossible with someone who does not fall into the category of ‘Force Sensitive’.”

“I see… I think,” she said, I felt her puzzlement acutely. “So what actually is a Force Bond?”

“It’s the building of a bridge between islands on the sea that is the Force.” I winced at the explanation, but Padme was not a Jedi who had been studying the Force for years. It was the best metaphor I could make up on the spot. “You knew it was me at the door without even thinking about it, letting me in when I could’ve been yet another assassin.”

She was visibly startled at the realization, “Now that I think about it… you’re right.”

“That’s just one tangible benefit of a bond. The mental training exercises I gave you to resist the enemy has also helped you to gain a greater awareness of your own mind.” I restlessly fiddled with the railing. “A bond like this exists usually between master and padawan.”

“You mean, you have this with Anakin?” Padme asked in alarm. I sensed her instantly realizing the implications of this and her embarrassment rising.

“Correct, and yes, I generally know when you both are ‘hitting the sheets’, distance or sound proofing is not an issue. Please don’t think either Anakin and I are intentionally sharing or peeking. A bond, like any door, can be shut and locked and he does both when you’re together.”

“That’s… that’s a relief, I must admit.”

“Yes. Now you must make a decision, Padme. I created this Bond intentionally in the process of admitting my own feelings for you to myself. If I did not do this, if I did not accept why I was feeling such horror at your death, I would’ve been blinded to the probability of that shrapnel spitter. I would’ve saved you from a sniper shot only to lose you to their backup plan.” Could the earth just swallow me up now and put me out of my misery? “If you so desire, I will sever the bond.”

The silence that fell after my confession felt like a mini-black hole had just popped up behind me. I turned my attention firmly away from Padme’s bond, not wanting to see or feel anything at the moment.

Her soft hand on my left shoulder was the last thing I expected, but I felt it nevertheless. “What would that do to you?” she asked softly.

“The bond is fresh, new, if I sever it now the consequences would be… not as dire. You would not find me a pleasant person to be around for a few days, maybe a week. I would be utterly indifferent to you.”

“And our friendship would…” She was unable to find the words.

“In this case, it might survive, with time.”

“I don’t like the sound of that ‘might’,” she said.

“Bonds are two way lanes, Padme. If one side doesn’t want it, then it must be dealt with, regardless of feelings or perceived injury. It is the burden I bear from this gift and I bear it gladly, because of the consequences of not doing so…”

“So you would bear this sacrifice for me? You would break your own heart?”

“Yes.”

“Ahsoka, you are young, I still well remember what I was like at your age…” I opened the bond and briefly ‘blasted’ her with the unfiltered truth and feelings. Her eyes widened in understanding, she put a hand to her chest and almost stumbled back. “I apologize… I was going to make light…”

I closed the ‘door’ on the bond and waved off her apology. “Don’t worry. I get that ‘you are still young’ thing a lot. I’m used to it. For anyone Force Sensitive, the breaking of a feeling is not done lightly.”

She stepped closer, her hand on my shoulder… again. “This is not an easy decision, Ahsoka.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“So you and Anakin have this? You really can just send feelings to each other?”

“We can hold full conversations.”

“Could we?”

“In time maybe, at the moment…” I opened the bond and sent, “Only I can send thoughts to you.” She flinched and was clearly startled at perceiving a voice in her own head that wasn’t her own. “With further training and strengthening your connection to the Force, you may be able to send thoughts back.”

“That’s possible?” she asked in amazement.

“Yes, though it will require you to undertake training from a Matukai master, which by itself isn’t certain. They’re a nomadic order of Force adepts, who solely use their own bodies to channel the Force. Even beginning to know where to look for them is troublesome at best.”

“And something I don’t have the time for.”

I nodded and looked back at her as she stared up at the stars in thought. “There is something else you should also keep in mind.”

“What?”

“You realize that you have an infinitely stronger bond with Anakin?”

She blinked and looked rather stupefied for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. I saw her mind briefly reeling as she perceived yet another set of external feelings. My proximity and guidance was helping a lot.

“Is that… Anakin?”

I probed down my own bond with Anakin just a bit to get awareness of his circumstances. My mouth twitched in amusement, Oh this was going to be hilarious. “Yes.”

She arched an intrigued eyebrow at me, an involuntary smile slowly dawning on her face. “Are you feeling… mischievous?”

“Close, yes, I am. I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’m going to give you an instruction, do not think about it, don’t dismiss it, don’t reason it, just do it. Understand? It’ll help if you go through that mind clearing visualization I taught you.”

“All right,” she took a deep breath in and out. Her thoughts faded until all I could see was just the small flicker of her awareness, like a tiny candle in the darkness. “Ready.”

“What’s Anakin doing right now?” I blurted out with speed.

“Reading a datapad in a field tent, drinking a bottle of water, which he just spilt all over himself for some reason,” she said instantly, going crosseyed and wincing as her mind rebelled against the strange foreign input.

I couldn’t help it and laughed merrily despite the circumstances. “Well done, Padme. With my help, you just pranked him across thousands of light years. He’s probably going to be very grumpy with us both, and he’s realizing that I just figured out how to crystallize your bond with him and make you aware of it.”

I plunged down my own bond, sending him a warning.

She frowned, “You did something there?”

“Correct, I warned him to not try anything across the bond. Anakin is very powerful and he might hurt you, your mind needs time to adapt.”

She sighed, “That was amazing, Ahsoka, and again, I thank you, but…”

I nodded, sensing her intentions, “I’ll give you time and privacy. It’s been a long day, we’ll speak in the morning, you can tell me your decision then.”

“Thank you,” she said with feeling, squeezing my shoulder.

I left her quarters, strangely feeling like some great intangible weight was gone. It was as if I had thrown off chains that had been binding me. This wasn’t passion of the flesh, far from it, this was a love I didn’t have a word for yet. Whatever her decision, I would bear it and if necessary bear the pain, my own mind and heart wouldn’t stand for anything less.

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A/N: Poor Ahsoka. Matters of the heart are so complicated.

The Force Wills - Chapter 52

HK-47s hologram flickered into life.

“Perfunctory greetings: Hello Master.”

I regarded the droid with narrowed eyes, “HK, report.”

“Answer: The mission was an unqualified success, Master. You shall find that the director meatbags of Concordia Crescent Technologies will be most cooperative in any endeavor you put forward. They have also changed their minds about pushing for the capital weapons project. Derisive comment: It’s just as well, mistress. The proposed weapons would have barely scratched the hull of a frigate.”

“Good, then I can at least do some good at the board meeting tomorrow. I trust you kept things within proportions in applying leverage?”

“Insulted rejoinder: Of course, Master. What do you think I am? An amateur?”

“No, you’re a sadistic, homicidal, very experienced and effective droid intelligence who likes to be creative with my orders.”

“Affirmation: Correct, Master. Amazement: You always know the best things to say to warm my cold heart, Mistress.”

I waved off the droid's attempt to get under my skin. “What about your secondary objectives?”

“Answer: I can only report a partial success, Master.”

“Explain.”

“Statement: The meatbags involved in the local black market have met numerous setbacks and unfortunate accidental fatalities where appropriate. Conclusion: It has only had a short and medium term effect, Master. The nature of meatbags will mean it is impossible to stamp out completely.”

“I didn’t expect it to, HK. A message needed to be sent and it was. The Mandalorian Guard will now have the breathing room and time to grow into an effective tool to combat this hydra when it eventually resurfaces.”

While there wouldn’t be a mass sickness and poisoning among Mando’ade school children in this timeline, the black market was still growing too fast for my liking. The galactic war was making everything more expensive, giving incentive for people to look for cheaper options - the black market was naturally such a place. The ills that went with a black market - graft, corruption, poor quality control and safety, was something that equally couldn’t be afforded.

“Eager Query: Master, are you truly sure that no such creature exists somewhere?”

I rolled my eyes, “Yes, HK.” The droid really took to the English language’s metaphors and I sometimes regretted educating it regarding the etymology of some words and phrases.

“Disappointment: Ah well, it would’ve been a nice challenge. Query: Do you have my next orders, Master?”

“Yes, return to Coruscant. I’m going to be heading back there soon. In the six days until my arrival after you get there, you will first see if Hermione doesn’t have something for you to do. After that, you may indulge yourself in the lower levels until I call.”

“Affirmative: Yes, Master.”

“HK…”

“Query: Yes, Master?”

“Make sure you clean up,” I said sternly, gesturing around him.

His holo wasn’t projecting his environment, as the droid no doubt intended, but that mattered little to me.

He was standing in the middle of a small back room somewhere in Concordia’s small city. The dead bodies of half a dozen moogans were strewn about the room, either dead by blaster, vibroblade or snapped necks. All of them were also armed with a variety of blasters and HK had a few scorch marks from where the droid had been tagged.

“Affirmative: Yes, Master. Signing you off.”

The holo winked out.

“Bloody droid,” I grumbled and walked out of the small holo room and into the second floor hallway of Riyo’s official residence.

It was an estate that was just under a hectare of land on the outskirts of Kernone, the actual local name for the Pantoran capital city. The common perception was that Pantora was the ‘moon of marshes’. It was the predominant landscape but it had at least one major ocean and large lakes stippled everywhere.

The view outside was certainly not Naboo, but it was beautiful in its own way.

The sun was still in its early morning phase and cast a brilliant shine over green gray marshes, snaking between areas of solid land where a variety of grassland type plants grew, and where pantorans built their structures. The atmosphere was hot, humid and too oppressive for my taste.

I found Riyo seated at an outdoor table on the upper floor balcony, glass of water in hand and staring into the distance and surrounding landscape. She was dressed formally and looked ready to resume the day’s negotiations with the Trade Federation. I could sense though that the last two days of these talks had taken their toll.

“Ah Ahsoka, did you manage?”

“Yes, thank you,” I pulled out the neighboring seat and helped myself to the jug of cool water waiting on the table, pouring out some into a glass. “Thanks for letting me use your com system.”

“No problem. Things went well with the Council?”

That had been my first call of the day.

“As well as can be expected. I wouldn’t say they’re happy, but they’re satisfied that the blockade is about to end.”

The blockade wasn’t technically over yet, though it was only a matter of time and paperwork. Currently, only a single Lucrehulk remained in orbit until the negotiations were finalized and ratified with Chairman Papanoida’s signature. He would be arriving today with his other daughter, Che Amanwe, freshly rescued from Tatooine at the hands of Greedo’s gang of bounty hunters. The bastard had apparently managed to flee from the shootout, whilst leaving the rest of his ‘buddies’ to die.

“Riyo, has there been any word about Che’s condition?” I asked delicately.

She gave me a look and her mouth thinned - she understood immediately what I was implying. “Nothing in the chairman’s communication implied or hinted that… the scum took anything that wasn’t theirs.”

“Would he even indicate to you that it had happened?”

She took a deep drink from her glass and stared at it, I could almost see her wishing a different drink was in there. “It is entirely likely that he would not. It would be an internal family matter. This is the Outer Rim, Ahsoka. Pantora sometimes feels like an island of law and order in a sea of chaos. We know full well the dangers every time we leave our solar system and accept it. If Che has been violated, we will take care of her and help her heal fully. Pantoran society doesn’t make a stigma of it.”

Nothing from Prescience was hinting to me about this, it was the experience of Tatooine and my gut talking. It was a side of the lawless reality of certain parts of the Outer Rim that was naturally not portrayed in my previous life, given the genre it had operated in.

“Changing the subject, have you given thought to what I talked to you about yesterday evening?”

“I can see the merit, Ahsoka. I just don’t know if we can swing it through the Assembly. Our Navy has only ever needed to be cruisers and below, defending and securing a single system from piracy and criminality. What you’re talking about would change that paradigm greatly and necessitate a four fold increase in the defense budget. Not to mention the Isolationists in the Assembly would be screaming murder that we are interfering in other sovereign system’s business.”

“I’m not talking about flag planting, Riyo.”

“I know, Ahsoka. It’s just they won’t see it that way.”

“Riyo, all it would take to cut Pantora and the eighteen other worlds in this sector, off from the rest of the galaxy, would be the loss of Farstine and Llanic to a CIS sponsored pirate fleet. The only thing that could stop that would be if you at least had about four naval groups centered around battleships, that could deter the threat and buy you enough time for a GAR response fleet to arrive.”

Prescience hadn’t indicated that possibility, but I couldn’t see everything. It was my tactical mind speaking and was exactly the thing that I’d do in Dooku’s shoes. It also would neatly increase security levels along the Farstine Hyper corridor and Llanic Spice Run. The latter leading straight to Mon Gazza. If the Pantoran Navy had those battleship groups ready and the Gazzans destroyed the spice mines, it would put a huge dent in spice production that would affect the price on a galactic level. The Pantoran battleship groups would also be a huge deterrent to any drug lord or the Pyke Syndicate trying to regain the planet. Even longer term; I wanted as many strong Republic member worlds with localized system and sector navies as there could be.

That would be just the ticket for resisting a Vong Invasion, that didn’t depend on blinkered future Republic politicians that would see the galaxy burn as they blindly kept wanting the status quo to continue, ignoring all evidence to the contrary and who couldn’t conceive of the Vong threat. Who’d rather cling to the notion it was all a hoax or fake.

“I see the danger Ahsoka, you don’t have to convince me. I think it's only now that the reality of this war has settled into their minds. Before it was just rising prices and shortages - the fighting is happening thousands of light years away. Now a battleship fleet was parked above their heads. That will have opened the eyes of many. I can only hope the chairman and I can steer their minds and decisions along the right path.”

“So do I,” I said gravely. My chrono chimed a warning. “We better get going, Riyo.”

“Well, let’s not keep the ambassador waiting.”

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What followed was day number three of just standing behind Riyo’s chair at a very large, elegant table as she and a bunch of Pantoran Assembly ministers negotiated and talked ad nauseam with the Trade Federation ambassador.

I was there in two capacities, her bodyguard and as the Jedi Order’s representative and witness to the agreement that would be signed. This would also eventually require my own signature on the document. Thankfully, I could now be back in my natural facial and lekku patterning and infinitely more comfortable Hapan Jedi outfit, which was even more welcome in the hot climate. The Pantoran Assembly building had HVAC, but somehow the pantorans still liked things relatively hot, even as they constricted themselves in heavy clothing. It was apparently a combination of culture and pantoran biology that gave rise to this.

Also as more welcome news, Anakin had sent a message that he and the Resolute would be coming to pick me up from Pantora. This would also send a pointed message and act as a flag waving exercise that the Republic would be committed to the defense of Pantora, even as far out as it was in the Outer Rim.

“Make sure you get the scorch marks and hull repaired beforehand, master.”

“Snips, I understand the concept of a flag-waving,” he had retorted grumpily.

I buried my amusement at the memory, so I wouldn’t be caught smirking at an unfortunate moment as the politicians kept nattering on and on. It seemed that even between two entirely different universes, that didn’t change. Even the coming board meeting of CCT would be a torturous affair to attend, although at least there I would have a full twenty minutes of speaking time allocated to me and I could interject and ask questions at the other blowhards on that board.

Eight hours passed in this manner, with only a single thirty minute allowance for lunch and drinks.

It was bad enough that I’d started imagining shutting some of these politicians' mouths with the Force. There was a particularly annoying one on the pantoran side that had a voice that was really grating on my montrals and unfortunately, said politician really loved to talk and the sound of his own voice.

Suffice it to say, when the negotiations finally concluded at the end of the work day, I put my signature down with a tad more force on the physical document than truly necessary.

I escorted Riyo out of the Assembly building and even piloted her personal transport shuttle.

Only when I walked back into her house did I let go and truly let loose a storm of invective in Togruti, Mandalorian, English and even a few other Earth languages.

When I was done, my shoulders slumped and I gave Riyo an apologetic glance, “Sorry, about that.”

Her expression shifted between shock and amusement. “Not a problem, Ahsoka. I feel the same way sometimes, I suppose I’m just used to it. I didn’t know that Jedi could get angry or even express it like that.”

“Oh we can, expressing it depends on the Jedi. I suppose I could’ve just let it serenely go, as most masters would want. I am not a Jedi of that school of thought. We are not one single monolithic entity that is united in thought, Riyo.”

“Interesting,” she said with a thoughtful frown. “So there are actually other ‘schools’ or factions in the Jedi Order. My grand uncle didn’t mention that.”

“Factions are not the correct word, that implies a different level of conflict or ideological views. There are numerous ways Jedi develop; there are groupings related around our lightsaber styles, which represent our own thoughts to conflict mediation and resolution. Even further the color of our blades can distinguish how we view the Force and its use. Beyond that, we even have a more recent categorization that has emerged, which is related to how we ascribe to the Jedi Code.”

Riyo looked quite baffled at this point. “It sounds incredibly complicated.”

“I doubt your grand uncle would therefore burden a very young Riyo Chuchi with the full story then, would he?”

She chuckled, “No, he wouldn’t. He died when I was seven, so…”

The front door of the house chimed.

I gave a quick scan of the entire estate with Farsight and sensed… ah.

“It’s safe, Riyo, you have a distinguished guest.”

She walked to the front door, pulled it open and Chi Eekway Papanoida bounced cutely in happiness before giving Riyo a big hug. Then she became a whirlwind that barged into the house, bounced again upon seeing me and seized me in a hug as well.

“Oh Ahsoka, I’m so glad to see you again.”

“Hello,” I winced. Good grief, this girl was deceptively strong and knew how to use her weight to her own advantage. She had captured my arms in the process and I couldn’t even hug her back really.

She let go and looked me up and down. “That is an amazing outfit, you must tell me all about it. But first, do you have something to swim in? Because if you don’t, we can quickly go to this wonderful place I know-”

“Yes, I have something, Chi,” I interrupted her babble.

“Excellent. Riyo has a wonderful pool we can all use.”

“Chi,” Riyo said with a stern look. “I have a lot of work still to do before I can-”

“Oh, work, shmerk, I know you’ve been stuck in dreadful meetings for the last three days, you can take at least an hour and join us.”

Riyo gave a tremulous smile, especially when Chi started throwing what was the pantoran version of puppy eyes at her.

“Fine.”

“Yay.”

“But only an hour, no more, understand?”

“Let’s goooo!”

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I wish someone would go ahead and invent a faster hyperdrive.

I was in the modest outdoor pool, wearing my hapan nano-bikini that I’d never thought I’d wear again. Chi had taken one look at me, gasped in amazement, grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the pool, and was now talking my montrals off about swimwear fashion on Pantora. Her own outfit was essentially just a triangle bikini and it fit her very well. Her own body was only ‘chubby’ to a point but her skin wasn’t flabby at all. It sat well on her and whilst she probably could stand to lower her BMI, she had no real health or fitness issues at all that I could sense.

She was also very comfortable in her own skin and had no shame whatsoever or felt any envy at my own figure. In fact, she boldly enquired into my own exercise routines.

Riyo was wearing what I would call ‘ski shorts’ for a bottom piece, whilst her top was boob tube and she watched Hurricane Chi lay into me with a fond amusement.

“I begin with squats, three sets of ten, then a Coruscant Press, four sets of six repetitions-”

“What’s a Coruscant Press?” Chi asked, looking cutely baffled.

Feeling this would go faster if I demonstrated, I got out of the pool and sat down on the edge. I made an overhand grip above and behind my head and moved my joined hands up and down. “Now imagine there’s a weight barbell in my hands.”

“Oh, I see,” she smiled, her eyes had a glint of appreciation and I was suddenly aware of what this exercise did, given what I was wearing.

I lowered my arms quickly, “Then inline curls, four sets of six.” I demonstrated again. “Coruscant Press again. Moving into weighted push ups, three sets of ten. Two hand curls with weights. Tricep stretching. Wrist curls with weights. Sit ups, five sets of twelve. Finally ending off with the calf raise, five sets of twenty.”

I pushed off the pool edge and hid myself with the water.

“And that’s just the beginning?” Chi asked, looking at me with astonishment.

“I haven’t even begun unarmed training then, which moves onto lightsaber training afterwards.”

“By the moon goddess, how do you do all that and still go on to have a full day?”

“Hard work, training, and the Force,” I shrugged.

The front door of the house rang again. It was all I could do to prevent myself from facepalming at this moment as Riyo looked at me with expectation.

“It’s fine, you’ll want to let them in.”

She nodded and climbed out of the pool, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself.

A few minutes later, Notluwiski Papanoida, in his full regalia as chairman of the Pantoran Assembly walked into the pool area, followed by Ion Papanoida, his youngest son and Che Amanwe.

“So this is where you disappeared off to Chi,” Notluwiski said sternly, but also knowingly with a hint of amusement.

“Daddy!”

A sopping wet Chi emerged from the pool and hugged her father enthusiastically. To his credit, the chairman didn’t seem to care one whit that his royal red outfit was now stained with poolwater in the process.

“Honestly Chi,” Ion scoffed, but his face twitched at his sister’s antics and he regarded her with familial love and fondness. He was relatively quite handsome in that dark blue outfit with paneled tunic, red sash tied around his waist, matching pants and calf length boots.

Notluwiski broke the hug and surveyed the pool before his attention fell on me. “Padawan Tano?”

I stopped wishing for the pool to swallow me up and accepted my fate. I moved over to the pool stairs and stepped out of the water in as dignified a way as possible before walking forward and stopping a polite distance from the assembled Papanoida family.

I bowed, “Chairman.”

Notluwiski had an excellent poker face and didn’t bat an eye, though I could sense both astonishment and amusement, with a faint background tinge that he really appreciated what he was seeing - he was still male after all.

Che Amanwe simply sighed and stared at her younger sister with fond exasperation. “Really Chi?” I was ever happy that my gut had been incorrect, as I didn’t sense anything really wrong with Che in both body and spirit - she only had tiredness from a long journey and there might be some lingering psychological issue from her captivity, but she hadn’t been violated.

“Don’t look at me, it’s what Ahsoka herself had,” she defended herself with a huff.

Ion, on the other hand, was frozen like a statue and looked like he was on the verge of having a stroke. I tried my best to put out of my mind the feelings I was sensing from that direction.

“Chi is correct, this is the only swimming attire I readily had on hand, I apologize for any offense, but I found myself unable to say no to her insistence on coming to the pool. It was either this or going out to a local shop, which I didn’t want to do and she was impatient.”

Notluwiski chuckled with a rasping deep laugh, “Yes, I can well imagine, padawan. It requires a deft hand and wise mind to corral my daughter.” A pouting Chi gave her father a light punch on the shoulder. He bore the treatment as if he fully expected that reaction. “I came here to personally express my thanks to you for her rescue and for enabling Senator Chuchi to end the blockade.”

I bowed again, ignoring Ion’s slight choking cough, “It’s a pleasure and my duty, chairman.”

“Please, if there is anything I can do…” He trailed off expectantly.

“The only thing I will accept in repayment, chairman, is that in a few days, Senator Chuchi will come to you with a proposal - I ask simply that you keep an open mind.”

He frowned as he took in the seriousness of my tone. “Indeed? That does sound rather ominous. Very well, I will do as you ask, padawan. Now, knowing my daughter, she will not let us rest until we join her in the frivolities and have some… fun.”

Chi took that as her queue and grabbed Che and Ion, who’s cheeks were still dark blue as he  stared at me and dragged them both to the pool.

The evening that followed was a distinctly memorable affair - Chi even managed to coax the entire family in their underwear to join in a bit of swimming and Riyo served up a hasty evening meal we had at an outdoor table.

Notluwiski’s emotions throughout the evening were quite heartwarming to experience and served to drum up my own feelings for my father in my previous life.

I let those feelings run their course, keeping firm control of my tear buds and let the two sisters do their best to distract me.

Of course, the inevitable happened when Chi, riding high on joy, eventually asked for me to do some Force inspired tricks. I could hear the various masters in my imagination scoffing and deriding the notion. I, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine that the energy field that binds and enables life in the universe would object if it was used to create happiness.

I began simple with a light Force Push thrown into the water that pushed up a wave and splashed Chi right in the face. I didn’t use any mnemonics or gestures to make sure she couldn’t say I just pushed hard with my hand - it was a clear ‘supernatural’ event.

She huffed and splashed me right back, but I created a TK deflection that parted the water to splash to either side of me.

That caused almost everyone except Riyo to look on in astonishment.

“Don’t try it, Chi, you won’t win,” she said with a smirk.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Chi, Che and Ion joined together in an abrupt sibling alliance to attack me into playful submission with a water fight.

They quickly surrounded me and started frantically splashing.

Eventually they stopped, utterly exhausted from the attempt and by sheer stupefaction at what they were seeing.

I folded my arms and stared at the perfectly cylindrical mass of water held up in the air around me.

With a twitch of will, the vertical cylinder of water exploded softly outward and nailed the siblings in their faces.

“Okay, that’s just ridiculous,” sputtered Ion, wiping his face and spitting to clear his mouth of water.

“Told you,” Riyo sing-songed.

Eventually, later in the evening, even Chi finally got tired and her father declared a firm end to the night.

They redressed even over their wet underwear and I endured another round of thanks and said goodbye to every family member. Even Ion could at this point keep a straight face whilst looking at me, though I sensed he had the beginnings of a distinct crush.

“Did you at least have fun, Ahsoka?” Riyo asked me as she prepared the guest bedroom.

“I did,” I admitted. How long had it been since I could say I had spent any length of time in carefree fun and just experiencing joy for its own sake? I couldn’t even begin to answer that. Maybe when I was very young on Shili, playing with the other kids of my old countryside village home.

“Good, you’re still young and sometimes I feel like I’m sitting with my grandmother when I’m speaking to you. This war has made you grow up too quickly.”

I was glad she had rationalized herself to that explanation.

“Perhaps it has,” I said as I approached the soft single bed, pulled open the covers and absentmindedly undressed and got into my pajamas.

“Good night, Ahsoka.”

“Good night, Riyo.”

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The long swirling tunnel of hyperspace fractured and split. The view resolving to show Pantora seemingly zooming towards the Resolute before the deceleration cycle completed and it almost filled the forward viewports of the bridge.

Anakin instantly became aware that his padawan was very close.

He turned the command chair around just as a beeping from the com officer station occurred.

“General Skywalker, incoming transmission from a pantoran shuttle, requesting permission to land on board. It has… Commander Tano aboard, command codes verified.”

He couldn’t help but smirk at the com officer’s confusion. Anakin looked to his left where ‘Ahsoka’ was standing or rather her enclosed armor was standing, being manipulated by internal motivators and actuated by a specially programmed droid intelligence.

“So, what do you say, M8-40, want to meet your new mistress?”

The droid intelligence dropped the vocal emulation and spoke with a distinctly different mechanical female tone. “Finally, it’s about time.”

“Comms, permission granted. Divert the shuttle to the starboard bay.”

“Yes, General.”

“We’re also getting a message from Pantora, with diplomatic credentials from Chairman Papanoida. Message reads: ‘On schedule, proceed as discussed, my thanks, Resolute.’”

“Nav, make use of the course, speed and time parameters the pantorans transmitted earlier. Nice and slow flyover of the capital city, bring us to a stop and hover fifteen kilometers beyond the outskirts.”

“Yes, sir.”

Anakin stood and began a steady walk off the bridge with M8 smoothly following at his side. He couldn’t help but feel satisfaction at the achievement of essentially transforming Ahsoka’s armor into what she called ‘power armor’. So fluid were the actuators that M8 could do a good job of a very mild version of Ataru lightsaber sparring with him, easily fooling anyone watching and leaving the impression that Ahsoka was inside the armor.

He doubted that she would actually use the power assist the armor now gave her, unless in an emergency, but she had for the longest time expressed interest in a small personal droid that could slice any systems and computers she encountered in the field. Astromechs were too big and vulnerable on a battlefield or in an infiltration situation. So he took inspiration from the small exploration droids that some Jedi used in the Explorer Corps, to get into the smallest nooks and gaps in the ruins they sometimes investigated. Then integrated the miniaturized systems that were found in a BD droid into her armor and worked from there.

The final result was M8-40.

By the time they arrived in the starboard bay, the small pantoran shuttle had already landed and Ahsoka was unloading two large duffle bags from it. She opened each, seemingly double checking something, before walking around and waving at the forward cockpit.

The shuttle immediately powered itself back up, hovered briefly in the air, yawed around, before shooting out of the containment field on a return journey.

“Skyguy,” Ahsoka smiled and bowed. He carefully assessed her for a moment; she seemed in good spirits, if a little frayed around the edges, but was physically fine.

He returned her bow, “Snips, welcome back.”

“Good to be… master, did you seriously…” She stared at M8-40 with amazement and a half-smile. The droid embodied in power armor actually shuffled nervously under the scrutiny of her new mistress. “It was just a notion.”

“Well it was a good idea,” he retorted, patting M8 on the shoulder pauldron reassuringly. “Ahsoka, meet M8-40, your new integrated exploration intelligence and power armor.”

“Hello Mistress,” M8 actually used the armor to emote shyness quite well.

Ahsoka approached the droid - he sensed her probing it with her technometry - before she smiled brilliantly and briefly hugged the armor. “You’re amazing… oof!” M8 hugged her back a little too enthusiastically.

“Sorry, mistress.”

“That’s all right. Skyguy, you’ve really outdone yourself here. She actually managed to keep the charade?”

“That she did,” Anakin smiled. “I only had to do a bit of cheating when it came to usage of Telekinesis during our usual sparring sessions, and I had to keep tinkering with the personality emulation over time, but otherwise…”

“Well M8, I can see we’re going to get to know each other really well,” Ahsoka teased the droid intelligence.

“I look forward to it, mistress. Please…” M8 trailed off, again shy. Anakin wondered if he didn’t need to tweak the emotional parameters a bit. He had started M8’s programming from the ground up as her own unique personality, then had her adopt Ahsoka’s emulation. It was only natural that M8 would learn from the emulation and even integrate things. In this way, M8 could be almost an artificial ‘sister’ of sorts.

“What?”

“Please wear me.”

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at her power armor, before tutting, “You’ve been looking forward to this moment, haven’t you?”

“It’s what I was made for, mistress.”

She stepped back and opened one of the duffle bags, before pulling off her comlink, vambraces, and armored boots. Her current hapan tunic and pants were tight enough that it wouldn’t get caught on anything inside the armor.

“From behind, Skyguy?”

Anakin nodded.

The powered M8-40 Aegis armor abruptly stiffened to maintain balance, as the backplate and upper legs mechanically blossomed open with only a slight hiss and whine of actuators. Ahsoka approached and regarded the interior for a moment, before tentatively threading her left leg in, testing the feel and balance, before also putting in her right leg and leaning forward. The next part was slightly tricky, ducking her head down and upward into the domed helmet meant to accommodate her lekku and montrals.

The moment she was fully into the armor it closed up.

She immediately detached and pulled off the helmet, adjusting the flexible membranes that supported the lekku, before putting it on again.

“How’s it feeling in there, Snips?”

“Comfortable, it’s almost as if there’s no difference.”

“That’s good, I had to increase the armor’s exterior dimensions a bit to make room for the new systems.”

Ahsoka flexed and moved her arms first, testing the range and movement. “There’s a slight delay.”

“Sorry, mistress,” M8 said almost frantically, “I was given scans of your movement, but there’s…”

“Relax M8,” Ahsoka soothed. “It’s merely a calibration issue. You’re now dealing with the real thing and not simulated models, you’ll learn. For now, please turn off the power assist.”

“Yes, mistress.”

Ahsoka tried again and the difference was immediate to the trained eye. She then flexed her left hand and opened her palm, causing M8’s logic probe to extend outward from under the wrist.

“Nice,” she commented and closed her hand, retracting the probe in the process. “The scanning systems are amazing, master.”

“I did a bit of tweaking to the standard equipment and programs that explorer droids come with, we are mostly dealing with combat environments, not tombs or ruins.”

“And what about your armor, master?”

“It’s currently under rebuilding, I’ll finish it up to our new standards during the cruise back to Coruscant.”

He gestured towards the nearby turbolift.

Ahsoka picked up both duffel bags, slung it around her shoulders, before patting the armor’s utility belt and touching each of her lightsabers. He felt the Force ripple as she touched the Darksaber and he could sense there was a lot going on there, but he had no real words to define what.

“Everything all right with that blade?” he asked in concern.

“Fine, just re-synchronized with it,” she sighed. “It’s just grumpy that it missed out on all the action I had on Mon Gazza.”

They entered the lift and he thumbed the button for the crew decks. “I read the official report, but there’s definitely more. What happened?”

“How do you know that, Skyguy?” she retorted sweetly.

“It’s you, Snips.”

“Fair enough,” she sighed. “We’ll talk in my quarters. I’m long overdue for a bit of meditation as well. The last few days have been tumultuous on Pantora.”

“Oh, what happened?”

“Chi Eekway Papanoida happened. She’s three years older than me but has the energy of a six year old human on caf and is my new best friend.”

Her words were distinctly at odds with the mix of emotions he was picking up from Ahsoka with regards to her new friend. “That’s good?”

“She’s a sweetheart, but overbearing is an understatement.”

“This is the chairman’s daughter you rescued?”

“Yes.”

“Well, gratitude from those you rescue is something a Jedi has to learn to deal with.”

Ahsoka turned her head to face him and he sensed a dark humor radiating from her. “I think I’ll share a few select memories with you, Skyguy. Then get back to me.”

“Really, Snips, how bad could it be?”

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Resolute did a whirlwind tour of physically visiting every major Pantoran city over the course of the day. The visit to the capital had been synced to nicely coincide with the chairman’s speech addressing the people, and all in all, generally did the job to settle down the friction that had been building in them ever since the blockade had started.

The last Federation Lucrehulk had jumped into hyperspace hours before the Resolute’s arrival in the system and now a Republic Star Destroyer was here. The symbolism obvious and to the point.

The victory tour didn’t last too long thankfully and barely a day later Resolute set course for the long ten day journey back to Coruscant. The ship was mostly back to combat readiness, but a number of systems needed full drydock inspections before they could be recertified and bring the ship officially back to 100% readiness rating.

Anakin used the journey to finish up his armor and continue to instruct me in the ways of the lightsaber. His Aegis armor wouldn’t have an integrated droid intelligence, but did include a direct data uplink to R2-D2, so the droid could ‘hack’ using the logic probe in the armor. In this way, R2 could safely find a hiding spot or even stay on board whatever ship we were using and continue to provide his hacking skills even in the harshest of fire fights or battlefields.

I was also busy with getting to know M8 and studying the improvements and changes Anakin had made in detail to my own Aegis. I had to be capable of fixing it or performing maintenance myself, in the field, without having to rely on a full workshop or Anakin. As it was never guaranteed that I would have access to either.

The final time sink was the dread specter of digital paperwork, and whilst M8 had done a good job under Anakin’s guidance, I couldn’t delegate it now that I was truly back from undercover work.

Speaking of undercover, Anakin had done a bit of digging around the Holonet around Mon Gazzan servers and eventually brought me a data chit of how my actions there had seemingly gained a legend and life of its own. The locals were abuzz about ‘The Naked Gun’ and rather strangely, were reporting sighting ‘her’ in times and places that shouldn’t be possible. In fact, a poster on a local data forum said that he had seen me disrupt a Pyke shakedown just two days ago. No one had so far managed to grab an image, but the guy also swore he had taken a picture of ‘me’ fighting two gangers only to later find that he had taken a picture of the two Syndicate members fighting each other.

It didn’t take me long to deduce what was happening.

I was going to have words with Kina Ha.

Of course, that lack of images didn’t stop a few local artists from rendering their new folk heroine in traditional and electronic mediums, with the embellishments, interpretations and exaggerations that came with it. It was embarrassing - since most of them only rendered me wearing boots and a gun belt or even completely naked. It was also flattering, as I wish I looked as good as what some of these artists came up with and I was depicted as rather older than I actually was.

Anakin’s reaction to the art was even worse - teasing me subtly at the oddest moments during our training and when I least expected it. I naturally got him back for it by sneaking the odd punch past his guard into the stomach during our sparring sessions.

It finally got out of his system by the time Resolute docked in the Coruscant Shipyards.

We said our goodbyes to the crew and Admiral Yularen, then boarded a speeder to fly directly to the Jedi Temple.

Only to run into a very rare, full, in-person sitting of the Jedi Council, who summoned us before we could even put our luggage into our quarters.

“Welcome, Knight Skywalker, Padawan Tano. In order, congratulations are. Shown your courage and strength in dealing with the Pantoran blockade, you have," said Master Yoda.

“Job well done, Ahsoka,” Master Plo Koon declared, bowing his head slightly.

I kept a carefully neutral face and bowed in acknowledgement.

“Now onto a pressing matter,” Obi-Wan stated. “There’s a large-scale civil war on Balith in the Inner Rim that erupted in the last few weeks. There was an attempted coup of the local government by a faction of Separatist sympathizers and all out war has erupted. The governor has asked for our help. Anakin, you will leave immediately to command the 501st Legion, who will be transferred to the Star Destroyer Furor as your transport.”

Anakin nodded before asking pointedly, “And what will my padawan be doing?”

Mace Windu answered by addressing me, “Padawan Tano, you will remain on Coruscant for the moment. The delicate political nature of the Pantoran Blockade means we need your full report on the entire affair. It might seem pedestrian and routine, but this report will inform not just the Council but a lot of high officials on future policy decisions.”

“Understood, Master,” I nodded. “How long will I have?”

“There is no strict deadline on it, padawan,” Obi-Wan said with a slight twitch of humor in his voice. “This is not the Academy. We care about accuracy and quality, though it would be nice if we could have it in hand for the Council to discuss whilst we are all here in person.”

Jedi Council sessions generally lasted for a week. This one had been going for a few days already…

I bowed, “You’ll have it in hand in two days, masters.”

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The next morning I woke up in my bed in Anakin’s quarters and glared at the ceiling. I rolled my eyes. “Honestly?”

Many Jedi really disliked the fact that some younglings would often personify the Force in some manner. Their young minds couldn’t help but associate what they were feeling from the Force into some sort of context that made sense for them. Over time, as they grew up, that would fall by the wayside, usually as a result of many older Jedi teachers hammering that ‘childishness’ out of them. The Force was, after all, cosmic in scale from one perspective, so how could it be ascribed in such a limited fashion. Yet in the other perspective, the Force was absolutely personal and worked every day in a Jedi’s life.

Personally, I thought both viewpoints had valid elements.

Right now though, the Force was being a worrying little ninny, clutching at its pearls, gnashing its teeth and pacing back and forth. It was also glaring at me for thinking this and slapping me upside the head - figuratively speaking of course.

That could be the only reason it had sent me a Force Vision of something I had already foreseen and probed with Prescience. That such a vision was even possible within the deepest part of the Shroud only further showed how agitated the Force was.

“Yes, yes, I’m getting up,” I grumbled and went about my morning routines.

I went over my first draft for the Pantoran report whilst I ate breakfast. That done, I tapped my comlink.

“HK, fun time over. I need you at the Senate Apartment Complex.”

“Smug statement: I monitored your arrival to Coruscant, Master. As such, I wrapped up my amusements on the lower levels yesterday. I will meet you there. Signing you off.”

“Bloody droid.”

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“HK, I will do most of the talking.”

The assassin droid, looking factory fresh in his white and rust red colors, with the Jedi symbol prominent on his chest, was riding with me in the expansive elevator in the senatorial apartment complex. No doubt he had also put himself through a thorough cleaning.

“Acknowledgement: Yes, Master.”

The elevator with the best view of Coruscant’s Galactic City, eventually slowed to a stop and the doors parted.

We were immediately greeted by Captain Gregar Typho. I had called ahead to request this meeting and we were just in time it seemed.

“Padawan Tano, good see you again.” He gave me a salute before shaking my hand and smiling.

“And you, Captain. Things are well?”

“As can be expected, padawan. Busy time, especially with the senator due to travel tomorrow. The security arrangements alone are a nightmare. You’d think we were going to Tatooine. Anyway, why are you here? Please tell me this is a social visit only.”

“I’m afraid not, captain. This is something pertaining directly to Padme’s safety that I must speak to her about. Naturally, you can be there as I’m going to be needing your help and cooperation.”

Typho let out an explosive breath and shook his head ruefully, “You Jedi. Come along.”

He led the way into the expansive apartment and into the living room veranda, where Padme was herself busy attending to numerous suitcases of luggage, with the aid of C3P0.

She looked as breathtaking as ever, though her outfit was rather muted in style; a simple, yet elegant, floor length, light purple skirt and blouse, with a darker sleeveless jacket for warmth. Her normally elaborate hair was now done up in a singular long bun on the back of her head, which was encased in a golden ‘basket’ to help maintain the shape.

He politely coughed to draw her attention, “Senator, Padawan Tano and HK-47 to see you.”

Padme’s face lit up in a brilliant smile and soon I was engulfed in a hug.

“Ahsoka! It’s so good to see you.” She gave me an extra squish and held me at arms length. “How have you been?”

“Quite well, all things considered.”

“That's good to hear,” Padme nodded at HK. “HK-47, I wish I could say it's good to see you, but when you arrive anywhere, especially with your mistress, chaos is sure to follow.”

“Sarcastic Statement: Your powers of observation are astounding, Senator.”

Padme rolled her eyes at the droid. “So, Ahsoka, as good as it is to see you. Why are you here?”

“Simply put, I’ve learned that there is a distinct threat to your life. Within the next three days, if it isn’t stopped, an assassin will successfully strike at you.”

Padme’s bearing grew instantly serious. She didn’t need to ask where this was coming from. She sat back on her couch, “Do you have more details?”

“It’ll happen at the war refugee conference you and Senator Organa are holding on Alderaan. As for who the assassin is, that is less clear. For this reason, I’ve brought along HK as there is no one better in the galaxy in assassination at the moment.”

“Exclamation: Master, your words flatter me so! Dramatic mockery: Oh, the heart can’t take it.”

I scowled at the droid, “What heart?”

“Satisfied agreement: How right you are, Master.”

“Captain Typho, please take all necessary precautions,” Padme ordered.

“At once, Senator. Should I also arrange for two extra passengers to Alderaan?”

“Yes,” I said hurriedly before HK could interject some barbed sarcasm about inferior meatbags stating the obvious or their relative intelligence.

The droid turned his head to me, its photoreceptor eyes dimming slightly. I met his stare challengingly. Oh yes, I knew what you were going to say, chromejob, I thought.

“That’s excellent,” Padme smiled. “With you both along in addition to the Naboo Guard, I’m sure this threat will be dealt with swiftly. Besides, I enjoy your company and I definitely want your first hand account of Pantora.”

“Yes, Senator. It’ll be my pleasure.”

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A/N: An arc bridging chapter. Hope you enjoyed, have a great and restful weekend. 

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 14

The address we had been given was for a defunct car dealership called Bridge Auto.

It sat in the south-west of the city, what was known generally as Downtown South and a large portion of this was held as Coil’s territory of the Brockton underworld. It figured he would want to maximize every possible advantage and minimize the chances of any interference in this operation from his rivals.

My flight to the area took me a precious three minutes at top speed.

Then another frantic minute of zig zagging to find the dealership from the air. I ended up finding Thatcher Street by sheer luck and following it until I found the building.

It took all the willpower I had not to just bust in there, but I calmed myself down from my anger at myself for bungling the search. I knew I was being irrational, I didn’t have photographic memory and while I could read and interpret maps, keeping them in my head and matching what I was seeing from the air wasn’t happening.

I selectively materialized my hand holding the Snitch and let it go.

It fell for a second before powering up, stopped its own fall, hovered and vanished from conventional sight.

Now I needed a place that was relatively close to reappear and wouldn’t get me spotted by any public traffic cameras or the snipers.

I started a looping search pattern from the air, drawing an ever increasing spiral, also trying to spot the possible sniper perches Uber had pinpointed. It was frustrating, as I needed to demist to get my bearings from the HUD device…

It both helped and hindered me that there were still hardly anyone on the streets. It meant that my True Sight wouldn’t find a lot of false positives, but on the flipside it meant that Coil’s snipers had an easier time to potentially spot me.

I finally found a spot in an alley between two tall buildings, about eight hundred meters from Bridge Auto, that had no cameras, people and had two large dumpsters that had a neat gap between them, in which I could reappear. I was shielded from sight in all directions.

The moment I demisted, Uber’s voice began speaking.

“Oh, thank goodness. Let’s see… Reasonably good hiding spot, Escort.”

“Thank you,” I dryly whispered, trying to not breathe through my nose. The smell from the dumpsters were quite pungent and overpowering. “Found anything?”

“First possible sniper spot was a bust, nothing there. Snitch is on its way to the next.”

“How long?”

“Under twenty seconds. I’ll send you its feed.”

The HUD over my right eye lit up and it took a few moments for my eye and brain to adjust to having a screen so close.

The feed was directly from the Snitch’s point of view and there was a graphical HUD overlay on it as well. It was imaging everything around it in 3D, drawing wire-frames on buildings, objects, anything of interest and analyzing it, presenting its findings in crisp to point shorthand English text. I couldn’t help but let out a soft whistle seeing it in action, feeling very impressed.

“Pretty good, eh?” I could hear Uber’s smirk.

“It’s amazing, yeah.”

The Snitch’s target soon came into view. A six floor building that had a few shops on the lowest floor but rented out apartments on the upper five. The flat roof was scanned and found no sniper hiding or camped out.

“Figured that would be too easy,” Uber commented.

The Snitch now zipped lower passing to the sixth floor exterior and scanning through the windows that faced in the direction of the dealership.

“Why search lower?”

“First rule of fighting a Thinker, always assume they know more about you than what you think they know. Coil wouldn’t put snipers on the roof because they’d be easy to spot if you flew overhead. You might think, he only thinks that you teleport, but you shouldn’t assume that.”

The Snitch went lower to the fourth floor and finally it spotted something.

It did its analysis on the vague shapes through the glass and it resolved to show a prone sniper, aiming down the length of a truly big rifle, the Snitch quickly identified it as a ‘M82-A1 Anti-Materiel Rifle’. Next to the sniper was a spotter, looking through a high power set of binocs mounted on a stand. Both men were armored and outfitted almost like PRT troopers, but the urban camouflage pattern and armor pattern was different, looking more angular and high tech.

“Wow, if this is the latest gear Coil’s mercs are packing, it’s no wonder he’s holding this part of town so well. Your average PRT trooper would give their left nut for some of that gear. Miss Militia would need to break out the heavy duty guns to penetrate that body armor. Their helmet’s are fully teched up as well, HUDs, infotech and aim assists.”

“Okay, so I go there and Master them, get them to lead me to Coil?”

“No,” Uber said shortly. “If Coil’s even half the Thinker and planner we know he is, then what we have here is just the first layer in a matryoshka plan.”

“You mean there’s yet another layer of trap on top of this?” I asked incredulously.

“Exactly, hang on a sec, let me get the Snitch a better view.”

The view shifted to the left and Uber found a slightly ajar window in an adjoining apartment. He steered it in and found that he was in a bathroom. It was unoccupied but the door was also open. This led to a small hallway, through which was a living room, also unoccupied but definitely lived in. The state of the place looked like whoever the owners were had hurriedly left.

“Okay, engaging microwave mode, you’ll love this…”

The view suddenly changed colors and instead of just seeing a wall, now we were somehow seeing right through it. The two mercenaries were odd white human shapes on the floor and other shapes - that the Snitch was dutifully analyzing. It was like a more limited tech version of my own True Sight that could see through stuff.

“Bingo, see that large case behind them?”

“Yeah.”

“It probably held the rifle, but there’s more than just styrofoam padding in there. Hidden inside are explosives.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope.” The Snitch dutifully brought up its own analysis and displayed a bunch of chemical names, but the one that caught my attention was ‘RDX’. That was a common explosive that was used in the demolition of buildings. “My bet is that these two are being watched carefully. There’s probably a camera in there and even biometric sensors that they’re wearing, keeping a close eye for abnormalities. The moment you Master them, boom!”

“Okay, so how do we penetrate this layer of the trap?”

“Give me a sec… Ouch. Yeah, switching skill sets so quickly is not fun.”

“I’ll give you a kiss and make it all better after this,” I said with a grin, delighting at finding an opportunity for a bit of levity.

“The reward will need to be more substantial than that, Escort. My Thinker headaches are no joke when I get them. Anyway, I’m scanning the airwaves and radio frequencies in the area. Hopefully, I can find the freqs these guys are using, then I can get an RDF bearing.”

“How long? Coil is expecting me to appear within ten minutes in his main trap.”

“Given what I’m seeing here, you’re going to have to disappoint him.”

“But my dad-”

“Escort, despite what he may have said or implied, he’ll not kill your dad. It’s the only card or leverage he has against you should his primary plans fail, and he has planned for their failure. If he does kill your father, then your gloves come off. That’s something that no one who has any inkling of your abilities would want, Escort.”

I didn’t want to go down that road.

I didn’t even want to think about it.

Going full SCP on Coil…

“Just… just find them, Uber.”

“Busy with that. Okay, I think I’ve got their frequency… proximity is really helping. We don’t need to know what they’re sending and receiving, so no need to spend a whole day decrypting. Whew, got a bearing.”

“Which way?”

“We really need to find another sniper team, so I can refine it and triangulate better…”

“We can’t afford the time, Uber,” I hissed. “Just give me direction. I can use my own Thinker powers from there.”

“Fine, sending it to your Scouter HUD. You’ll see it as an overlay…”

“I got it,” I interrupted him. The direction to the south-south east, it was overlaid like a giant line in the sky, only in my HUD vision. “Wow.”

“Augmented Reality rules, eh? You’re probably looking for a mobile command post, probably a truck or large van. I’ll send the Snitch to you, it’ll sniff them out, follow it.”

The Snitch stopped above my position within a minute. I became immaterial and shot into the air, following it as it zipped away.

The rate it could move at was quite impressive for such a small thing, it was just below highway speeds at the moment. I hadn’t outright told him how fast I could move but he had long since deduced that I didn’t just ‘teleport’ somewhere and had to actually move through the intervening distance.

We flew for a full minute in a northerly direction and had moved into the Downtown area proper when the Snitch stopped abruptly and reversed course, almost flying right through me.

It zoomed down to a building that was a multi-floor car park that served the area.

Then moved slowly down, briefly stopping at each floor. The car park was reasonably full as it was a place where people parked on a long term basis and it had minimal exterior covering, allowing sightlines for vehicles from within. In other words, the perfect place to put a mobile command center with a high direct sightline towards the snipers encircling the dealership.

The Snitch stopped on the fifth floor and zipped forward passing into the building proper and stopped at what had to be the vehicle we were looking for.

From the exterior it just looked like a large FedEx delivery van, sitting merrily parked in its spot. There was no driver or passenger visible in the front, but I could hear that its air conditioning was on inside, including the hum of other smaller fans. The engine of the van wasn’t running so they were probably powering everything with batteries or some other long lasting silent power source.

I took a deep non-existent breath and hovered over the roof of the van, before slowly lowering myself until I could stick my head through.

Inside were two armored mercs in the same style as the snipers, though these did not have their gloves or helmets on - though there was a thick circlet of metal around her heads. They were seated in front of large screens and various devices with a dizzying array of knobs and controls that only made sense to them. The screens were interesting as it neatly showed an overhead map and real time positioning over every sniper covering the dealership.

“Alpha Charlie, no sign of target.” A crackling voice reported over the radio.

“Roger Alpha Charlie,” acknowledged the merc on the left, who was manning the radios.

These guys were built like bricks and had necks that were thicker than my thighs. The radio guy had a typical military buzz cut, whilst his partner had longer brown hair, but was also styled like he had also just come off a military base. Their auras further supported the conclusion that they were former military; the barbs, motes and flares actually moved in a recognizable pattern over time; it was rather fascinating to watch. I didn’t know whether to be impressed that military training could give rise to this type of orderly aura or be horrified.

I gave a brief thought about whether to Master these guys, to get info out of them on Coil, but discarded the idea. The same problem Uber had identified still applied. This was just another layer of the matryoshka doll.

I hovered and ghosted all around the van, looking everywhere I could and sure enough found a cunningly hidden device near the fuel tank, which I was sure was another bomb.

When I looked at the Snitch, it was bouncing up and down in the air weirdly and was probably Uber trying to signal me in agitation.

I found a spot to hide between two cars at the other side of level and demisted.

“Oh thank goodness. You know…”

“Yes, it’s just another layer, Uber. I’m inexperienced, not stupid.”

“Of course, just… I’m sorry. Anyway, I’ve got the next link in the chain. Follow.”

The Snitch left the car park and now we were headed east across Downtown and towards the ocean.

Two minutes of high speed flight brought us to the old abandoned southern Ferry Station. Parked just outside the high fencing of the property, was another large van, this time with a UPS logo stenciled on its side. Did Coil have a thing for shipping companies or was it just a random selection he went through?

We didn’t spend long at this van. I only poked my head inside to check that Coil wasn’t inside it. Not that I had any idea how he looked, but no parahuman could hide from me.

As we now flew back west, following the electronic trail, it made me wonder how Coil would appear in costume. Would he even have one? If he was the mastermind type that never put themselves directly in danger, he could dress up like any typical ordinary Joe off the street, so you wouldn’t look twice at him. However, the pageantry and culture of cape life made me doubt that even Coil could resist the urge to get in some sort of obvious costume.

The Snitch now turned abruptly south, and we were back in Downtown South, but more in its eastern parts.

There were a lot of tall high rises here, mostly office parks that focused on finance and tech industries.

The Snitch finally came to a stop directly over a building that was still under construction, only about halfway done. There were no work crews busy due to the lockdown, but I did spot two security guards on the perimeter, one actively patrolling, while another was just sitting in a small booth near the main entrance of the site.

We moved lower until the flying spy device was hovering right next to a fairly substantial antenna array. Anyone looking at it would just assume it was meant to service the construction site. At its base a whole trunk of cables snaked along the exposed ribs of the building, plunging deeper and deeper down into it.

The Snitch began bobbing in agitation again, but I dare not reappear here yet. We had definitely arrived at our final destination. Coil was here, somewhere. That meant he had to have extensive surveillance on the property.

Uber began moving the Snitch in a distinct pattern.

Moving in a wave like motion vertically. Then a straight line horizontally, a straight line vertically, a circle, then it finally clicked.

He was spelling STOP.

I really needed to sort out this communication problem.

I could selectively materialize parts of myself, but I had never had the courage to apply the same principle to my entire head.

If dad’s life wasn’t riding on this…

I hovered lower, putting myself at the corner of the unfinished building, twenty meters of air below me and the building’s outer skin to my right.

Focus Taylor, carefully… I thought hard.

My will turned to my right ear, around which the scouter was sitting.

I imagined I was pulling a film of plastic, but that plastic was my ‘power’, wrapping the right side of my head…

Abruptly I felt the entire right side of my face blasted with wind and updraft.

Wow, this was entirely weird… It was like my world had split in half, yet hadn’t.

“Got your signal… Uh, Escort, why does this say you’re in mid air?”

I materialized my lower face properly. “Because I am in mid air.”

“That’s new… oh, you’ve figured out something new with your powers. That’s so awesome. Ah, the good old days. Treasure these moments, Escort.”

“Sure, now what’s going on?” I didn’t want to imagine what I looked like from an outsider’s perspective right now.

“The problem is this. I said this was a trap on many levels. I’m now thinking that Coil has also accounted for you finding his base. I’m still not sure if this is the real deal. If it’s real and he’s down there, then I think he wants you down there.”

“Uber, your logic is going in circles.”

“Listen, these are the sorts of traps that are Mastermind Thinkers bread and butter. Plans within plans, contingencies, backdoors, fallback points. Think of it this way, he’s thrown down a gauntlet for you. How you perform in it will determine his response and which contingency he uses. If you had fallen for his original first trap, then you’d be dead to a sniper bullet or explosion, his problem is solved. If you avoid the trap and manage to follow the electronic trail he left on purpose, then it just bumps up his estimation of you and he uses another contingency.”

My brain felt like it stuck in gear as I tried to sort out the levels of thinking going on here. “He put this trail on purpose?”

“Yes. There is no other explanation for how easy it was to find and follow. Escort, I can name a dozen techniques and ways off the top of my head to scramble this signal so no one could find it without a hundred years of encryption breaking. He could just route it to a server and have it bouncing around the world a few dozen times before it comes back to Brockton. Yet he’s done none of that.”

“So what do you think he has down there waiting for me?”

“Honestly, I have no idea, Escort. It could be anything. He wouldn’t want to blow himself up, so he probably has your dad wired with an explosive or he has an out of town cape down there with some bullshit-tier power that will take you out.”

I dearly wanted to hit something in frustration right now.

Yet, in the end, whatever was waiting for me… I had to face it. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to save dad.

“Uber, thanks for your help.”

“Still going in, eh? Well, can’t fault you for that. A final bit of advice - don’t hesitate and don’t let him speak. You take him out quick and quiet.”

“I will.”

“Good luck.”

I misted completely and returned to the antenna array, found the cable trunk and began tracing it.

If a wall got in my way, I went through.

If it went through the floor, I sank through it.

Down I went, through floor after floor until I definitely reached ground level, considering I was now moving through the earth itself.

I saw compacted earth, all sorts of creepy crawlies, worms, residual roots, rocks.

The cables kept going deeper.

I lost all perspective of how deep I was going and for a brief terrifying moment thought I would never find my way out again.

Then I was moving through thick reinforced concrete, nearly two meters of it and emerged into a large room.

It was filled with computer servers. Large steel and glass cabinets, with racks and racks of computer mainframe blades. The overhead lights were off, giving the room a very eerie feel with the only illumination coming from the various LED strips and flashing tiny lights coming from the servers.

How deep in the earth was this?

I hadn’t really been paying attention due to the claustrophobic feeling, as I was practically entombed by the earth on all sides. It was something that was only hitting me after the fact. If I’d been back in my fleshy body I’d be shaking like a leaf and freaking out considerably. In my mist form, I was simply riding out the emotional turmoil as it battered my psyche relentlessly.

When the tides of emotion finally subsided I gathered myself together, focused and found the door, before phasing through it.

Beyond was a narrow arched corridor, with solid concrete walls and rugged lighting, including independently powered emergency lights that had their own power packs. The whole setup was for some reason prickling something in my memory.

There was no signage at all, on the floor, walls, or the door leading to the server room. I heard nothing save the distant machinery of a HVAC system, with the exposed ducting mounted on the ceiling above me. I materialized my nose and only got back the smell of concrete dust and very faintly those of multiple humans, a few days old.

Figuring it was a start in trying to make sense of the place, I remisted my nose and chose to follow the trail towards my left.

I soon came to an intersection, then briefly tested the air again with my nose - they went straight ahead.

It soon became apparent that if I didn’t have the ability to phase through matter, then I’d be faced with the prospect of being utterly lost and stuck in the place. How did Coil’s mercs and whoever else he employed actually work here? They couldn’t all have perfect memory. Did they walk around with maps or some sort of guidance device? If so, it was a neat trick to secure his own base against conventional infiltration or assault.

It was when I stopped at the next intersection to get my bearings and smell for the trail, that I picked up a fresh one, something that was hardly minutes old. I smelt cologne and the honey-like sweetness of two, no three men.

I turned right immediately to follow the new trail and sped up.

Within seconds I found them.

Three mercs in full armor, urban camo and casually cradling weapons in their arms that also hung from their tactical harnesses. I wasn’t much of a gun expert, but they definitely looked like military issue M4s? They also had a bunch of extra bells and whistles attached. My true sight was even seeing some very weird effects going on in some of those attachments, but it was clear that these things did more than just shoot bullets.

Their auras were also interesting, they were generally relaxed but there was background tension and alertness. They were also talking to each other according to their body language but had to be using internal radios, because no sound was issuing from their helmets.

I kept on their trail and eventually I concluded this was just a standard patrol they were conducting. There was no hurry or goal, they just kept walking a route with a moderate pace.

The problem now was I could be following these guys for hours and not come any closer to my goal. My only hope was to keep my nose perked for other trails or smells that would indicate a better direction to go.

The longest most frustrating time of my life so far followed as I trailed these three for ten, twenty, thirty... minutes?

Finally, the smell of a kitchen hit me. The agglomeration of meats, sauces, vegetables, milk, eggs, the smell of cooking meat, all confined in one place was something I was well familiar with by now.

I turned immediately in that direction and soon passed into a relatively large mess hall. It had roughly a dozen mercs with their helmets off, also wearing silver circlets, eating and raucously talking to each other as only a group of men in a shared occupation could.

I tried to make sense of it but I had come in halfway through a retelling of some sort of story involving an old drill sergeant who had discovered that there was a single apple missing from a crate that had been ordered to be delivered to the kitchens.

“So eventually, another DI finds the missing apple in the barracks,” said the merc, his face split wide in a smile as he retold the story. “So he calls the entire platoon downstairs, forms them up, and asks the entire formation about the apple in his hand. The poor sob who stole it knows what’s coming if he doesn’t confess, so he immediately stepped forward as the guilty party.”

All the mercs groaned and smirked knowingly.

“The DI asks him, ‘Why soldier?’. He replies, ‘I was hungry, drill sergeant.’ The DI retorts, ‘Private, I’m going to make sure you don’t go hungry to bed. Eat this apple.’ The DI brings him to the front of the entire formation, then turns around to address the platoon. He absolutely lets them have it with fire worthy of Ron Ermey himself. Then has them do push ups, jumps, the whole kit and kaboodle to waste the crap out of the platoon. The DI then tells him to eat the apple and the platoon will only stop when he is finished eating. He has no choice, so begins eating, the DI yells ‘Take your time!’. The DI turns around to continue to dust the platoon and I shit you not, barely seconds later the guilty recruit yells, ‘Drill sergeant, I’m done!’.

“The DI immediately asks where the apple’s core is. ‘I ate it, drill sergeant!’ The DI can’t believe it and searches around within throwing distance but can’t find the core anywhere. He asks him why he ate the core. ‘Because you told me to eat the apple, drill sergeant!’ The private had been so terrified that he literally ate everything; stem, leaf, seeds, all of it went down the hatch! The DI was so impressed and simultaneously pissed off that he just ordered them all to piss off.”

It was one of those stories that really depended on the audience. It didn’t really land on my funny bone, but I could see how others who’d been in the armed services could relate to it. The majority of the mercs chuckled in appreciation, but soon it was another’s turn to share some sort of funny or weird story from their own time.

Seeing them all like this really made me somewhat pissed off and even sad. The regular armed services had taken a real beating in terms of funding ever since the new reality dawned with capes revealing themselves to the public in 1987. That was hammered even further with the arrival of Endbringers - everyone could see that an army with tanks and gun wielding men would mean less than nothing against them.

At this point the armed forces and national guards existed only as a deterrence force and extra bodies that could be called in during S-class emergencies to support evacuation and policing in the aftermath. What was left of the navy was always kept close to shore. The only force that still got some level of significant funding was the Air Force, as they did have potential utility against some threats, to send satellites into space (about the only thing the Simurgh allowed humanity to keep doing in orbit) and to keep the nuclear deterrent in place.

It didn’t take the young enlisted soldiers, airmen, marines and sailors long to realize that the glory days were long past. The attrition rate in the services was high and naturally the villains were all too delighted to recruit such highly trained men and employ them as mercs. Coil probably paid them a much better salary than they’d ever gotten from the US government.

Halfway through another story, one of the mercs looked at his wrist and quickly got up, grabbing his helmet. “Sorry guys, shift time.”

“Hey Myers, you got any scuttlebut on how the op is going?”

“No, just guarding the boss’ office doesn’t mean I hear everything, Collins.”

“Man guard duty sucks!”

“We had our fun with the Empire in the last op, now we must pay for our sins.”

Myers drank the last of his coffee, stood, put on his helmet and gloves, then gave everyone a half-wave and walked towards the door of the mess hall.

I was already hovering over his head by the time he reached the door and retrieved his weapon from a nearby rack.

He left and after a few turns and walking down a corridor, approached the first elevator I’d seen so far in the base.

Inside the car, I could finally see how many floors this place was designed to have; fifteen.

The scale of the place, its design, and the idea that somehow a villain had built this deep without anyone noticing finally clicked it in my head what this place had actually been.

An Endbringer shelter.

I had gone on a school outing in elementary to an Endbringer shelter, every child in America did the drills and was at least taken to a shelter once.

How did Coil manage to take over an EB Shelter?

They were well maintained and looked after by the PRT and the city authorities.

Just another question to add to the list when I mastered the bastard.

Myers tapped on the button for the lowest floor and I nearly forgot to fly downward with the elevator. I ended up over-correcting and flew straight through him with my misty form.

He shuddered slightly from the sensation and I could see his aura coloring with confusion.

Then he shrugged it off, muttering, “Someone walking over my grave.”

The lift pinged annoyingly that it had reached its destination and he walked out, immediately turning left down a short hallway, before turning right. The corridor here had a guard post including what looked like automated machine guns hanging from the ceiling, steadily turning left and right, scanning for targets.

Myers walked past them without fear and was soon knocking on the first door he found.

The door buzzed and it unlocked itself.

I phased myself through the wall as Myers entered.

Inside was a large room that was dominated by a wooden desk that looked like it could’ve been lifted straight out of some museum. It looked old in design but was varnished so well it might as well have been carved yesterday by some master carpenter. Contrasting this was numerous modern computer monitors mounted on it and a number of keyboards. Sitting behind the desk on a high back chair of leather was someone who could only be Coil.

The man wore a skintight black bodysuit which was stenciled with a white snake curling around his chest twice and finished with the snake’s head ending right on the forehead. Two holes were cut for his eyes and a large one that just let his mouth free to breathe, talk and eat. The thing looked like a repurposed gimp suit that you’d expect to see at a BDSM club.

He was also not the only cape in the room.

Sitting in one of the guest chairs was a young, blonde haired woman, wearing a golden yellow evening gown that looked like she was ready to go dancing at a formal ball. Her identity was protected by a very expensive looking, gem studded masquerade mask. She even went so far as to wear yellow lipstick to complete the overall theme.

My attention was immediately drawn to both their auras.

Both were definitely parahumans, but there was something about the giant metaphysical channel from their brains that led into nowhere that was… different, including the expression of their ability on the world around them. It looked less active and energetic than any of the parahumans I had seen so far. It was like the difference between a firehose plugged into a hydrant and a garden hose - both pushed water and achieved their effect, but the latter was way more economical about it. The metaphor broke down at that point, because when you dealt with transdimensional anything, I couldn’t imagine the scale of energies involved - it was probably just my brain interpreting things as best it could for me.

Coil’s power also didn’t extend to anything on his body, but what it did do was to occasionally flare and pulse onto everything in the room and beyond. That made sense if it was a Thinker power, maybe scanning something. That pulse was also going right through me and not reflecting. So was I invisible to this power?

The unknown cape’s power was also interesting and rather pretty to see in True Sight. It bled over her entire body and into the space around her, but ended just a centimeter from her skin, following its contour. It was colored yellow to my brain and was definitely altering something in the environment, it almost made her look like a brilliant golden statue of power. So, definitely a Shaker of some kind. Her human aura at the moment was dulled into colors of boredom.

Coil regarded the changing of the guards in his office with barely a moment of attention and returned his focus to the numerous screens in front of him.

Miss Yellow, as I dubbed her in my head, reached into a jewel encrusted purse and pulled out a smartphone and began swiping at it with a thumb.

Coil didn’t even look at her, but said, “Your time and services has been paid for, Citrine.” His voice was a silky low hiss that felt ever so slightly unnatural. It was well practiced but he was clearly not speaking with his natural tone.

“The deadline passed twenty three minutes ago, before that I was waiting for hours,” she retorted in an even tone. Even the pronunciation of her words felt… perfect, almost unnaturally so. “It seems your target is smarter than you thought.”

“Perhaps,” Coil admitted.

“How much longer?”

“I will give it another ten minutes.”

“The hostage?”

“That is no concern of yours, Citrine.”

“No, I suppose not. You’ll have to excuse me, I have no opportunity to express such curiosity in my standard line of work.”

Coil only nodded in understanding.

Citrine was a name that definitely poked at a memory. I’d definitely run across her in my research and she wasn’t local to Brockton, but beyond that my recall was failing me. The only thing I could do now was to regard her as an unknown cape and assume the worst - that I should under no circumstances engage her directly with any of my powers. That Coil had hired her here as his ‘ace in the hole’ definitely meant that he thought something about her powers would counter mine, so she was also some form of Trump.

I regarded the three people in the room.

Myers the merc, I couldn’t master him, not without his armor potentially sending out an alert to Coil.

Citrine, even if my own powers were outside context and she couldn’t neutralize them, mastering her as a woman would require a battle of wills. She could either be an easy pushover or utterly outclass me in that department. Finding out what happened when I lost such a battle was not something that I could afford in this situation, not when dad’s life depended on it.

Coil, the obvious target to begin with. It didn’t look like he had any system on his person that monitored his brain activity, but if it was some sort of Tinkertech device, it could be small and not easily found. If he could afford to clad his troops in advanced armor and issue them Tinkertech at this scale, then he definitely wouldn’t skimp on getting something that would protect himself.

I hovered closer, stopping directly over Coil’s head and gazed at him with True Sight.

My attention was ripped away though by one of the screens.

Dad.

A live feed from a camera in a barren room, that had a steel chair in the middle, in which dad was chained and handcuffed to. A few feet from him was a stainless steel tray on a push trolley that had numerous filled syringes placed orderly next to each other.

The camera angle was from an upper corner of the room, and I could see that Coil had not faked the image he had sent me.

It boiled my blood in anger.

He’d pay for this.

The question was just how far I was willing to go.

I turned my sight to Coil and began picking apart everything odd. Now that I was this close I could definitely see he was wearing some kind of circlet around his head, that was distorting the gimp suit around his forehead. Same as what his mercs in the mess hall had worn. It was definitely technological in nature as there was a radio frequency being emitted from it.

Mastering him would definitely trigger something then, but what? An alert, some contingency, maybe even a self-destruct? I wasn’t going to rule out anything.

There had to be a way.

There was no perfect defense.

No plan could cover every angle of attack.

Movement on the screen cut off my increasingly panicked and racing thoughts.

Someone had just walked into dad’s cell.

A relatively small man, wearing a sweater, brown pants and round-rimmed glasses. He was carrying a tray with food, presumably breakfast. I nearly pushed my non-existent eyes through the screen as I strained to see every detail of the man.

One thing became clear though, I needed to find him.

He was not wearing a circlet.

8888888888888888888888888888888

Finding my dad’s cell had certainly easier than finding Coil’s office. It wasn’t exactly next door, but it was on the same level of the base. It required me just zipping through the walls and rooms as fast as I dared and a few minutes later I had found it.

I resisted the stupid urge to just grab him and roll the dice on whether I could safely mist him and carry him with me.

Even if I could do that, which wasn’t certain, it didn’t solve the fundamental problem.

Coil was a threat. Someone who had broken the Unwritten Rules for some reason to get at me. I needed answers and I needed to be sure that he wouldn’t be able to attack us again. He had made his bed and now he would lie in it.

The man, who I assumed was some form of assistant or even a nurse, given how competently he was handling and checking the tray of syringes in the single overhead light of the cell, was diligently watching dad eat with a single spoon. He had released only my father’s right hand and was at least allowing him the dignity to feed himself.

“What are in those?” Dad asked, as he ate some scrambled eggs.

“A variety of substances, Mr Hebert,” replied the assistant in an almost friendly, informative tone. “With varied purposes.”

The assistant’s aura was a normal human one, he was well into his forties, nothing stood out as odd or extreme in his emotions. I could walk past the guy in the street and not look twice at him. Yet, here he was working for a supervillain and participating in kidnapping and everything that went with working for someone like Coil.

“Is death among them?”

“Certainly,” he said as if he was discussing the weather. He tapped a syringe on the far end of the tray. “This one. It’s quite painless, Mr Hebert. You simply nod off and will never wake up again.”

Enough!

My mind web shot out and I pulled the assistant in.

Aware of the camera looking, I had him keep doing what he was doing. The only indication that something was different was a slight twitch of his mouth - moving from a smile to a more neutral expression.

Using only my thoughts and will to direct someone in my mind web was not an exact science. I had to be very careful with my intentions.

I focused on the tray of syringes.

What else is there? What else is there? Answer. Act normal. I thought over and over.

The assistant pointed at the next syringe. “This one is rather unpleasant. It hyper-stimulates the nerves. Even just the feeling of clothes on your skin or a slight breeze is turned into agony. This one is a drug that makes you feel utterly euphoric, an LSD derivative. Deadens pain and makes you feel like you’re on Cloud 9, so to speak. It is highly addictive though. Next, we have a short-term memory dampener - nasty business this one since it’s primarily used by unsavory individuals who force themselves on women.”

It didn’t take me long to make my choice.

Pick up the memory damper and the Cloud 9, subtly and carefully put in your pockets with your back to the camera.

Repeating that thought a few times seemed to do the trick and the assistant managed it rather skillfully, in a way that told me he had sneaked medication like this before.

Dad definitely noticed the event, confusion spiking in his aura, but thankfully didn’t comment, dipping his head to continue eating.

I had the assistant patiently wait for dad to finish before ordering him to re-cuff dad to the chair and deal with the tray as he normally would.

He picked up the tray with a smile and his eyes were starting to get an eager glint in them as usually happened to those who I mastered.

He left the room and I took careful note of how it was secured; exterior numbered keypad lock and there was a merc on guard who was armed with a stun baton.

The assistant easily navigated himself through the corridors from memory alone and he was soon in a well stocked kitchen that was also entered with a keypad code. The food in the adjoining pantry and fridge was top shelf quality - guess Coil didn’t settle for anything but the best.

He began washing up the cutlery dad had used. The question was now that I had this guy and the syringes of drugs, how did I best use it?

Okay, Taylor, break it down into small steps. I needed to be able to speak to this guy.

My thoughts and intentions had leaked across to the assistant and he finished off washing the plate, before purposefully striding into the pantry and then looked straight at my invisible form and made a come-hither gesture.

Okay, my thralls could at least know where I was, even when I was invisible.

I followed him into the food pantry, he pointed at the ceiling, then his right ear and shook his head.

Was he implying Coil didn’t have any surveillance in his own food pantry?

That was crazy. This was the food he ate… surely he would have a camera at least recording what went on in here?

The assistant smiled and merely shook his head at me. “Mistress, Coil trusts me. Well, as much as someone like him can. You see he used to have my complete loyalty, as he arranged to have my ex-wife assassinated when she wanted to take everything from me in the divorce.”

Looking at his aura, yes he was telling the truth as he knew it and that utterly devoted expression… Well, I had this guy hook line and sinker.

I demisted in front of him and folded my arms. Trying to keep the distaste from my expression at what he had confessed. His own expression turned into wide eyed adoration.

“Thank you, mistress, for gracing my eyes with your beauty.”

I rolled my eyes, suppressing the deep urge and instinct to feel satisfied that I had reduced him to this state. “I need to free my father and… master Coil, so he can’t come after me again.”

“That will not be easy, mistress, but should be doable. He has taken considerable anti-Master precautions and enacted numerous contingencies. Even should you master him, there are a number of events, orders and programs that are counting down on a timer. If something should happen to him, those timers run out and great calamities will occur.”

“Ask him what those calamities are, Escort.”

I twitched as Uber’s voice spoke from the scouter on my right ear. I had nearly completely forgotten that I was wearing the thing.

“You’re still there?”

“Of course, I knew at some point you’d find a safe spot to appear.”

“Well, thank you. Assistant guy, what’s your name?”

“Frank Pitter, mistress.”

“Okay, Frank, what calamities?”

“I’m not aware of all of them, mistress. The one I do know about is an information release, which includes the true identities of a number of villains and heroes.”

“Oh crap, that’s a pretty solid ‘fuck you’ to the cape community of the Bay,” Uber said.

“Another is the complete destruction of this base.”

“Could’ve figured that one out.”

“Tell me about that piece of tech Coil is wearing on his head,” I ordered.

“It is a device that monitors his brainwaves and constantly compares it to a baseline, mistress. Should anything abnormal occur to the rhythm and alert is sent to the central computer system. In his case, it would trigger the base self-destruct on a silent three minute countdown.”

“His mercs have this too?”

“Yes, mistress. If they are mastered, it will alert Coil immediately. He will then order other mercenaries to detain the affected individual. If too many are mastered though, the ‘halos’ they are wearing will release a lethal electric charge directly into their heads.”

“Fuck, Coil is a paranoid bastard, isn’t he? That’s cold.” Uber commented.

“Do they know they’re wearing devices that are potentially lethal?”

“They simply know that it will stun them, mistress.”

“Okay,” I rubbed my forehead, trying to stave off the headache as I searched for the next step. “Now, I assume if we dose him with the memory damper or the Cloud 9, it will also trigger Coil’s halo?”

Frank shook his head, “The memory damper should not be detected, Mistress. The problem is that it needs to be injected, which he will feel and he will immediately react by killing me, mistress.”

“How will he do that?”

“There is a pistol holstered near his legs, under the table.”

“Escort, question. Have you found your dad?” Uber asked.

“Yes. I did, he’s battered but okay.”

“Is Coil planning on doing anything to him yet?”

“No, but that could change at any moment.”

“Mistress, I don’t know who you are speaking to, but if Coil intends to kill your father, he will ask me to do it via lethal injection.”

“Are you sure? He won’t just go up to dad with a pistol and…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Coil is not one to get his hands dirty when he can help it, mistress,” Frank explained.

“There you go, Escort. You have another thing on your side. You have time,” Uber emphasized.

“So we wait, let him assume things, he’ll drop his guard at some point? What about Citrine?”

“Mistress, if I may, Coil takes a power nap every six hours for half an hour, especially on a day like this. He also has morning tea at eleven. As for Citrine, she will be dismissed within the hour as her services were only retained as a contingency for your arrival.”

My mind raced as I latched on that possibility. “Do you have something that you can drop into his tea? ”

“Of course, mistress. I am a fully qualified medical nurse after all. There’s a fully stocked medical dispensary on base, usually for treating any wounded mercenaries in Coil’s employ.”

“What about the halo, will he sleep with it?”

“No, the devices are temperamental when slept with. I’m not sure of the specifics given this is Tinkertech, but dreams have the potential to give false positives. Coil won’t take the risk of the base blowing up, just because he had a nightmare in his sleep.”

“Okay… Here's what I want you to do.”

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Eyes blinked open and Thomas automatically yawned as he stretched in his bed. He gave a brief look at the clock on the table nearby and with annoyance noted that he had overslept by twelve minutes. He reached for his power in a similar automatic mode, splitting the timelines - in one he returned to sleep, in the other he got up with annoyance.

Then just as quickly, his mind turned to anger and he dropped the useless timeline of staying in bed.

It was incredibly tempting to use it again, but he resisted.

Just as he resisted lashing out in pointless anger that his plan had failed. He could split off a timeline for a nice shooting spree through the base, seeing how long he lasted against his employees, but that had been done before and was again a pointless waste. Perhaps a session with Pitter, the small man did make for such satisfying deaths.

No, he thought.

He walked over to his closet, firmly keeping himself in one timeline, before dressing into his costume. He returned to the bedside table and considered putting on the halo lying there…

Miss Hebert had turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. All that planning, all those contingencies, even reaching out to Toybox for this bit of anti-Master technology and spending close to a quarter of a million on outfitting all his troops with them, all for nothing.

Well, not totally for nothing. Troops that weren’t as vulnerable to Masters was something well worth investing in.

He finished pulling the costume’s mask over his head and emerged from his quarters, heading for his office.

Only when he was seated behind his desk again and did a quick survey of the base status monitors for anything unusual, did he lean back and turn his mind toward the problem of what to do next.

It somewhat baffled him that any child could just… abandon a parent and loved one like that. Escort’s psych profile didn’t indicate any hint that this was possible. This psychological lever was almost as old as humanity itself.

His computer system blared an alert that the timers on his contingency programs had reached thirty minutes remaining on the clock.

He sighed and began the process of entering the four distinct passphrases and keystroke sequences which would push on the timers forward another twenty four hours. He also disabled the halo integration into the system as well. Now that the potential danger had passed it wouldn’t do to lose men to unforeseen false positives.

The screen on his left pinged as the computer matched keyword activity on the airwaves. It brought up the local news feed with an update on the ‘Tinker Train from Hell’. It was an apt description. Any timeline he ran related to that infernal train became unreliable, unstable and outright ‘made mistakes’ that were so laughably easy to spot. Something about that train confounded his power and in the process had revealed to Thomas that he himself was operating under the false idea of what his power actually was.

Two timelines, indeed.

More like one timeline and a hyper-realistic simulation of another timeline. A simulation that had been so good, that it had for the longest time convinced him he was a special being who was living in two universes who could jump between them at will and discard the unwanted one at will.

Then the first errors began to crop up, around the time he had later traced that one Taylor Hebert aka Escort had triggered.

No matter what he did in the other timeline to move against her, that timeline would literally start to fall apart at the seams as ‘errors’ manifested. In one timeline, she would seem to have no powers at all, easily being killed with a simple gunshot by an orchestrated home invasion. In another attempt, she literally tore the disguised mercenaries limb from limb, drinking their blood, becoming stronger. He ran it three more times, constantly getting different results and displayed powers.

The revelation of the truth of his power had sent him reeling and necessitated a completely different modus operandi with regards to his plans and activities. He took a leave of absence from the PRT and scaled back his operations, until he could find his feet again.

Then that damn train arrived and just like with Escort, any timelines he ran against it produced random results, ranging from plausible to outright farcical results that even a five year old would say was utter nonsense.

Its arrival had caused him to rather foolishly enact his plans to eliminate Escort to see if it would allow his power to flow correctly again. It was the one thing he could destroy, whereas the train had thus far shown to be able to repair itself from any damage. It would at least be leaving the city soon and if Escort was out of the way… then…

What is wrong with me? Thomas thought, staring at his own hands. How could I possibly have thought…

How could I have ever contemplated trying to kill such a beautiful woman?

He felt a slight movement of air behind him.

She was there, mere feet away.

His chair was slowly pushed to swivel and turn around.

His eyes widened as her beauty hit his brain and he couldn’t look away.

He didn’t want to.

Long perfect legs, fit beautiful thighs coming together into rounded hips and nestling in the center of that vision, a womanhood that seemed to shine with ethereal pink light. The hint of abdominal muscles, showing strength but not to the point of grotesqueness. Breasts shaped perfectly to be cupped and played with in palms, topped with glowing pointed nipples. Only the hint of her face was visible, partially hidden by long curly dark hair that reached to her shoulders.

Then the angel began to speak.

“Hello Coil, time we sort out this beef you seem to have with me.”

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No new SCPs in this chapter.

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A/N: Yes, Coil, its always in the little details and in this case, the least important person or element on your board, that your perfect plan goes balls up. Hope y'all have a good weekend.

The Force Wills - Chapter 51

Most beings in the galaxy looked forward to returning home.

Riyo Chuchi did not share this feeling.

She paced uselessly back and forth in the cockpit area of her diplomatic ship, Bastion, and gave the various readouts and controls a glance to confirm everything was still functioning and nothing had changed.

Bastion was still powering through the Mon Gazza system in real space, streaking towards the onward Llanic hyperspace point and would do so for another three hours. No ships were within immediate sensor range, but the transponders of many thousands registered throughout the system, as befitted a crossroads junction on the Corellian Run Hyperlane.

She knew she could be doing so many more productive things; such as working to clear all the steadily stacking datapads filled with Senate business requiring her attention, but the thought of the homeworld under siege by the contemptible Trade Federation just sucked all the energy out of her. Every problem her world faced at the moment could be traced back to the Federation or the Separatists in some way.

She also knew she should’ve asked for more assistance than just an astromech droid. Bastion was automated to a high degree to the point where she could take solo trips in the small frigate; she had done so in the past on the rare occasion, but here and now she was faced with a dilemma. The pressure of her world under blockade had neatly split the population; one side who remained loyal to the Republic and the other who only saw the immediate economic hardships of war and the blockade and wanted to give in to the Separatists. Anti-Republic sentiments were growing by the day. She couldn’t know who among her staff on Coruscant to trust at this point.

The Separatists were frighteningly adept at turning people to their cause through a variety of covert and even overt means. The kidnapping of Chairman Papanoida’s daughters being carried out so near-flawlessly pointed a damning finger that someone among the Pantoran delegation had turned traitor.

She couldn’t even trust the Senate Guard. She had the full right to ask for a small squad of them on this journey, but the scandal of the traitorous Captain Argyus was still making waves. Many senators had started importing their own security delegations from their homeworlds as a result. She had shown faith in the Republic and declined a security team from home, when Papanoida had asked, but now she was rather ruing that decision.

Again her traitorous mind began showing her all sorts of nightmare scenarios; the Federation simply ignoring her diplomatic status and putting her in a cell aboard one of their Lucrehulks and she would simply ‘disappear’. Another scenario; they hired yet more bounty hunters to simply ambush and capture her, maybe in the Reuss system - it was small, barely any settlement or infrastructure that monitored the hyper points. There was no avoiding it, no alternate routing. Another; the Separatists used sponsored pirates to simply capture and kill her.

Riyo stopped herself there, slamming the brakes on that train of thought firmly, wrenching herself to more positive thoughts with an exercise her great uncle taught her.

Just the thought of him always served to bring brightness to her thoughts and she liked to think that he was watching over her on this journey.

Joren Chuchi had been a Jedi, but he had not made the transition to the padawan rank, failing to find a master. As such he had been funneled into the Jedi Agricorps, where he had actually found his calling as farmer. It wasn’t long before he left the Agricorps and found his way back to Pantora, convincing her own grandfather for a loan to buy land.

It was the best financial decision grandfather had ever made.

Riyo always always liked visiting that sprawling and very successful farm as a young girl. Where Uncle Joren would fondly watch her play.

An abrupt alarm jolted her out of the warm memories and it took her a moment to realize it was coming from the com system.

She walked over and studied the radio status display. There was an incoming tight beam message from just beyond sensor range. Another alarm pulled her attention and the astromech, R3-B8, blurted warning tones in binary.

“Now what?”

She walked over to the sensor display MFD next to the pilot station.

A ship had just entered the extreme range of the Bastion’s sensors. It was only coasting on its velocity, with no engine burn and was on a parallel course to the Llanic hyper point. Her own steadily increasing velocity had brought the Bastion within range.

The com system blurted the warning again.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” she muttered and thumped the button to accept the com handshake.

What emerged was a very poor quality signal, with static grating on her ears.

“...repeat… emergency… emergency, this is… -ren, life support failing… barely breathe… emergency, emergency, life support…”

“R3, what ship is that?”

“Transponder identifies ship as Shili Siren - light cargo transport vessel, G9 Rigger class, Corellian,” R3-B8 trilled in binary.

She was again pulled in two directions; it was entirely possible that this was a trap, something to lure her in. She could ignore it and continue on her way. However, what if this was exactly what it sounded like. A ship in distress and because of her inaction, she doomed someone to death by asphyxiation. A lesson her great uncle taught popped into her mind, ‘Imagine yourself in another’s position.’ Yes, one day I might be on a dying ship and hoping that someone would save me, she thought.

“Adjust our course for an intercept, R3.”

“Are you certain, mistress? Pirate and criminal activity in the Outer Rim has significantly increased.”

“Yes, we can scan the ship when we’re closer, just to verify things.”

“Understood, mistress. Altering course.”

It took an agonizingly long seventeen minutes for the Bastion to close the distance until those detailed scans could be performed. The stricken ship was barely a blip of light to the naked eye, still fifteen light seconds distant.

“Scan the ship please, R3.”

“Scanning, mistress… The hull appears to be intact, no outgassing or damage is visible. There are strong power fluctuations, and its reactor is malfunctioning. It suggests a 72% probability that this is the cause for life support failure.”

“What does the other 28% suggest?”

“It’s possible that the reactor malfunction is deliberate sabotage.”

“Meant to lure me in, then once I’m in a predictable position, pirates swoop out of hyper right on top of me.”

“The computational capability to create such a hyper trap is beyond most pirates, mistress.”

“But it could just as well be the Separatists or those pirates sponsored by them.”

“Correct, mistress.”

She rubbed her face wearily and idly combed her pink hair with her fingers. “Keep your course, R3. Initiate docking when we reach it.”

“Understood, mistress.”

She stood and left the cockpit, heading down the small corridor to her nearby cabin. In a corner was her largest travel case that contained her clothes for this trip. She flipped it open and stuck a hand into the neatly folded pile of clothing, fiddled around, then pulled out a gun belt holding a custom Corellian K23 blaster, whose grip was molded to her hand.

She wrapped it reluctantly around her hips and fastened it with the buckle. She pulled the blaster out, checked the charge level and that it was set on stun.

Satisfied with her preparation she headed further aft in the ship and towards the starboard docking collar. She opened the emergency compartment next to the airlock and pulled out a breather mask.

R3’s binary came over the PA, “Mistress, we are close enough now for a life sign scan. One only, very faint.”

“Understood R3, keep going.”

“Decelerating, matching velocity and vectors, docking in thirty seconds.”

Riyo took a deep breath and fitted the mask, checking for a tight seal and that it was properly functioning. She pulled out her blaster and waited anxiously, looking through the small transparisteel windows of both inner and outer doors.

Abruptly the black of space was replaced with a shiny metallic hull as the filtered, reflected light from the local star hit her eyes. That was then replaced with the mechanical docking collar of the Rigger freighter that quickly and efficiently closed the distance under the expert guidance of R3.

She felt the thump through the hull as the ships connected.

A quick look at the airlock status display indicated that the atmosphere in the freighter was pressurized but dangerously high in CO2 levels.

Satisfied she keyed the Bastion’s side to open and stepped through.

She hoped the pilot of the Shili Siren at least remembered to unlock their airlocks when they had transmitted their distress call. Otherwise she’d either have to get R3 to try to slice through their system or as a last resort, actually cut through.

Thankfully, Riyo had no problems with the local controls on the freighter’s airlock exterior and it opened with a single button press.

She took her first step onto Shili Siren and saw only a narrow empty corridor and steadily flashing lights.

“R3 where is that lifesign?” she asked into her comlink.

“Straight ahead, through the door, you will enter the main cargo area, climb the ladder to the upper deck. Through the door you will find there.”

“Thanks.”

Riyo followed the directions, struggling to suppress the feelings of fear that were slowly building. The old stories of ghost ships or the early hyperspace vessels came to the fore. Adrift ships, totally devoid of their crews and no explanation could be found in later investigations. The atmosphere was eerie and her pace was slow. Her imagination saw fit to paint dark creatures from her nightmares in the darkness, but which would swiftly vanish as the lights flickered back on.

There was no cargo here but she could vaguely recognize that the ship actually had a whole supplemental reactor in the bay.

Why make that change? She wondered.

When she was finally on the upper deck and thumbed the controls to open the hatch there…

Despite knowing that the pilot would be there, she couldn’t help but gasp. She’d had the unlucky timing to open the door when darkness reigned and the vague shape she beheld almost seemed to be some sort of kneeling form with an armored head…

The lights flickered on and revealed the truth.

In that moment, a hum resounded throughout the ship, both lights and power stabilized.

Kneeling there in a meditation pose that she had seen her great uncle do many times, was a young togruta wearing what she recognized as a summer collection outfit from the pantoran Shemone design house. Her eyes were closed and an oxygen face mask covered her face.

“Greetings Senator Chuchi,” said the togruta suddenly, again startling her enough that Riyo almost aimed her blaster at the figure in reflex. “I am Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano.” The self-identified Jedi opened her startlingly deep blue eyes that seemed to draw and pull Riyo’s gaze into them like deep pools that you could dive into. Then the Jedi bowed her head. “I apologize for the scare and deception to draw you here.”

Riyo blinked and her wits caught up to the situation. “Pada… What-  What is going on?”

“I’ve been assigned unofficially by the Jedi Council to accompany you to Pantora, acting undercover as your aide,” she said succinctly.

Riyo’s mind whirled as she considered the implications of that and the actual picture began to unfold.

“The Jedi Council knows something about actual Separatist involvement?!” she asked immediately.

“Indeed, Senator, but Jedi intuition and divination are problematic at best in courts, let alone in the complex struggle of politics and propaganda. You of all people understand it is one thing to know something, it is another to actually prove it.”

The padawan smoothly stood and Riyo couldn’t help but admire the figure that she possessed. Tano filled in that pantoran outfit really well. Riyo wished she had the time to devote to the physical exercise required for that.

The Jedi held out her hand and a large duffle bag flew through the air and looped itself around her shoulders.

It was a rather deliberate piece of showmanship, Riyo realized. She could see no lightsaber on the padawan’s hips, but that show of power did enough to truly identify the padawan as the real deal.

“So I take it we need to keep our confidential discussions on this ship?”

“That would be advisable, senator. The Shili Siren will not be accompanying us going further. I will send it on its way to Corellia, as scheduled. My involvement must be deniable and unprovable until we gain evidence of Separatist involvement in this blockade.”

“Then let’s plan on just how we’re going to achieve that, Padawan Tano.”

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For a politician who had a full seat of representation in the Senate, Riyo Chuchi was a surprising person to find in such a position.

Much like Padme, she was quite young for her role, and had been groomed for her role by Pantora since her teenage years. She had gone through the Senate Young Leaders program - something the Senate ran every fifty years to promote ‘getting in new blood and fresh perspectives’. Now in her twenties, she was more experienced, wiser, but still very idealistic and in some ways naïve about the Senate and Republic. She still had faith in it and what it represented.

I could also tell that she didn’t have a good first impression of me. After all, I had used her good nature and manipulated her into docking with the Twilight with that fake distress call. It didn’t matter that it was done to keep a shield of plausible deniability, to let me infiltrate her ship and now assume my next identity - Alenah Dinos - a newly hired aide that had rendezvoused with her in New Cov.

Sure, she was grateful that the Jedi Council had actually heard and responded to her world’s plight, but she also resented that it didn’t seem to merit assigning a Jedi knight to her case. Naturally, I didn’t take her feelings as an offense or slight. I had long ago made peace with the fact that I’d likely remain a padawan for the duration of the war.

The Order had already made a considerable exception in knighting Anakin. It did not change quickly and held onto tradition stubbornly, even in the face of considerable external pressure. Ask most masters and they’d ascribe that quality as a virtue. They saw it as holding on to the Order’s ideals even in the face of the Dark Side - and what was the entire war but an external manifestation of the Dark Side?

As Yoda would say, “Wars not make one great.”

My martial and military feats mattered little in the evaluation of even letting me attempt knighthood trials.

All in all, that was probably why the senator, after we had discussed in depth our strategies and plans going forward, dumped a stack of datapads in front of me.

I now had to ‘work’ in full view of her ship’s surveillance sensors, whilst her astromech went around and did creative slicing and editing of the ship’s logs and recorders, including back dated documentation regarding my employment with Senator Chuchi. This included posting a job advert on the Holonet. R3-B8 did a sufficiently passable job of slicing Holonet records to show that the job had appeared a month ago and that my ‘identity’ had responded to it from Shili. It wouldn’t hold up to a determined data investigation from a specialist, the droid was not specialized itself in terms of hardware for that, but it was good enough for cursory scrutiny.

It was rather annoying going through these motions when I knew they weren’t going to be needed at the end of the day. We were going to find the Trade Federation with its hand in the cookie jar. It was just good experience and practice though.

By the end of our second day on the Llanic Spice Run hyper lane, Chuchi had mellowed out somewhat towards me. Mostly due to the level of dedication I showed as she taught me the administrative ropes of her work in the Senate. I think she also found herself somewhat surprised how much she enjoyed the process of teaching, even if she was a bit of a novice at it.

“I’ve never really felt the need for someone to act as a personal aide,” she explained over the dinner we were having in the Bastion’s small galley. “The dozen staff members of the Pantoran delegation to the Senate handle most of the administrative duties. I’ve also seen a lot of other senators treat their own aides as everything from the equivalent of royal servants to less savory roles. It feels too much like handing off work that should be mine.”

The other thing I realized about the young senator; she was a very social person and didn’t take to solitude well. Her long solo journey from Coruscant with only R3-B8 as company had been a trying time. She had taken to doing her own work in my presence and would find as many excuses as possible to always be within the same room. She kept things strictly business during ‘office hours’ and ‘small talk’ would be limited to when we ate.

Riyo Chuchi, it turns out, was a very easy person to like. She had a natural charisma in spades and an oratory skill that I knew needed just another decade or so to mature and she’d make news whenever she spoke. She also had one of those personalities that just seemed to suck you in. She was a rare gem of a person and I could see how I could become fast friends with her over the next week.

We would arrive in the Pantoran system thankfully without incident on the third day, passing through the Socorro and the Reuss systems on the way.

Everything was in place as we could make it and the Bastion dropped out of hyper at the emergence point of the frigid Orto Plutonia.

Pantora itself was actually a very large moon that the pantorans considered their homeworld. They were not the only species to call this place home though; as aqualish, bith, gran, humans, rodians and sullustans were immigrated species and also had representation in the Pantoran Assembly.

It didn’t take long to see the blockade.

A full grid of Lucrehulk battleships cutting off the most efficient courses from the moon’s various spaceports.

The ship’s diplomatic status and active transponder was doing its job at least and there was no hostile reaction from the Federation battleships.

In fact, the lead ship in the formation merely sent a bloody holo text message that we were cleared to land in their port landing bay, the captain not even bothering to get on the holo and speak to us.

“That’s encouraging,” I said dryly.

Riyo gave me a look, “The diplomatic protocol will generally be observed by the senior Federation representative on the ship, not its captain.”

“The captain is the one with finger on the button that will unleash the firepower of that battleship. This neimoidian regards us with very little respect, senator.”

“I understand what you’re trying to say, Alenah. Nevertheless, we must press on.”

R3 did the piloting into the giant hangar of the flagship Lucrehulk with the delightful name of Marauder.

She led the way into the lower decks of the Bastion as it went through its landing cycle and we paused just outside the embarkation door.

A slight thump felt through the decking indicated touch down and Riyo did a final check on the external sensors before opening the door and lowering the ramp.

Thankfully, we weren’t greeted by a squad of armed droids, but only two neimoidians dressed in their typical flowing black robes with pointed hats. The one with the tallest hat and decorated in colorful patterns was Sib Canay, the Trade Federation officer in general command of the entire blockade, whilst next to him wearing an unadorned flat top hat, was Chuf Prutzo, the Federation ambassador to Pantora.

“Senator Chuchi,” greeted Sib with a mildly smug smile on his dark gray-green face. “Welcome back to Pantora. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I bring word from the Chairman of Pantora,” she said formally, yet managed to convey a tone that was quite friendly to the person who held the fate of her world in his greasy palms.

“The chairman has finally decided to agree to our terms? I must say we do not relish this blockade, senator. It’s a dreadful waste of time and money, but…” He shrugged, as if it was completely out of his hands.

“Not exactly. The chairman wanted me to inform you personally of an impending alliance between Pantora and the Confederacy of Independent Systems.”

“The chairman is planning on joining the Separatist Alliance?” Sib was clearly surprised and even slightly skeptical.

“If that were the case, would you remove your blockade from Pantora?” Riyo asked pointedly.

“If so, the chairman would have to go to the Senate and renounce the Republic. Then we could discuss how quickly we could resume commerce.”

“Very well,” Riyo agreed pleasantly, as if she wasn’t discussing something entirely antithetical to her beliefs and technically treason. “I shall contact the chairman. We shall discuss the finer details tomorrow morning.”

“Agreed,” Sib stood to the side and gestured to the nearby exit. “Now you and your servant may stay as our honored guests. Come this way to your rooms.”

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The first thing I noticed as we were guided to our quarters was that not a single armed droid was in sight. In fact, it looked like the entire battleship was manned by neimoidian soldiers, mostly drawn from their Royal Gunnery Battalion, but there were also those who were clearly functioning as naval personnel. The only droids were the typical maintenance and damage control droids that were in use all over the galaxy. It made me wonder if the entire blockade was like this. If that was the case, then it seemed the Trade Federation was also engaged in a bit of theater and made me curious how well neimoidian crewed Lucrehulks would perform in battle.

Our new accommodation was located in the central sphere of the Lucrehulk and was very luxurious. It almost felt like we were walking into a seven star hotel suite on Cato Neimodia. Hand woven red carpeted floor that bounced slightly under my feet, walls decorated by e-paintings, statues from a dozen different worlds and cultures, artfully placed around furniture that probably cost more than most people would make in a decade. Even the air I was breathing felt ultra clean and was scented with something that reminded me of… vanilla? The only thing that broke the immersion was a single flatscreen that projected a beautiful view of Pantora orbiting around its parent planet.

My senses looked beyond this beautiful façade and already I was picking up the electronic traces of very advanced bugs and surveillance sensors embedded in numerous places.

“Ostentatious, senator,” I commented, drawing Riyo’s attention to me, my left hand made a subtle hand signal at my hip. I had taught her a few of the basic signs.

“This is normal finery for the Trade Federation, Alenah,” she explained, blinking her eyes rapidly three times. The front door to our quarters chimed pleasantly. “Ah, that should be our luggage.”

I headed to the large doors, which were built in such a way from this side, that they appeared to be made out of ultra-varnished wood that seamlessly blended with the walls. They parted to reveal two neimodian guards, each carrying two large suitcases.

Without fanfare they placed the cases down in front of the door and marched off.

They weren’t really heavy for me and I carted them to the master bedroom that had a large bed that looked like you could drown in its softness.

One case did not have clothes in it, however, and that one I brought to the main room and placed on the dining table. I opened it and the portable holoterminal and computer workstation unfurled itself and powered up.

“Our luggage was scanned but not opened, senator,” I pronounced. This deduction was quite simple, thanks to the strand of hair Riyo donated and was still right where I left it, undisturbed except by me opening the case.

“To be expected, Alenah. You may proceed,” Riyo instructed, she pulled out a datapad and sat down on the couch facing the vidwall projection of her homeworld.

“Yes, senator.”

I sat down in front of the portable workstation and began the next phase of the plan.

Setting up an encrypted link to R3-B8, who was jacked into a logic port on the Bastion’s main computer.

I managed this after just a few minutes; finding a frequency and an encryption that would stymie even the best slicer in the galaxy for at least a day or two of constant work.

That done, both R3 and I worked together to begin subverting the surveillance in the luxurious state quarters. This was relatively easier, but took longer because of the sheer number of devices and we had to record enough footage that could be looped believably back to those who were watching. We also didn’t want to use the looped footage and scans until we really had to.

A ping from the holoterminal caught my attention.

“Senator, incoming transmission from the chairman.”

Riyo stood up with a groan and stretched her arms briefly before standing next to me. “Open the channel.”

Papanoida appeared, his white beard standing in stark contrast to blue skin. His stately red headdress framed his face, along with formal epaulets adorning his shoulders.

“Senator, it is good to see you. I take it you’ve arrived safely?” he enquired politely.

“Yes, chairman. I’m currently aboard the Federation flagship in orbit of Pantora. We arrived four hours ago.”

“You have a long journey behind you then, so I won’t keep you from a well deserved rest for long. What is the situation?”

“I have conveyed your intentions to Sib Canay, chairman. Initial impression is that they are receptive to the idea and for a relatively speedy resolution provided some conditions are met.”

“I can imagine what those are. My own situation is proceeding apace, there is a reasonable hope of resolution but the locals are being intransigent.”

“I wish you luck, chairman. I’ve also received some help from home.”

He paused and his eyes briefly looked at me before focusing back on Riyo, “That is good news. Hopefully, we’ll have our own to share with you soon. I’ll see you soon, senator.”

“I look forward to it, chairman,” Riyo smiled.

The holo vanished as the link was closed.

She returned to the couch and sat down. I gave a look at the terminal briefly and executed the bypass program briefly.

“We can talk freely now, senator.”

“Good, you managed it. I admit I had my doubts,” she sighed wearily and rubbed her eyes. “It seems the chairman’s visit to Tatooine has run into some problems.”

“It’s a world, senator, where scum and villainy reigns supreme, only held in check by fear of the hutts. I’d be surprised if any mission there goes smoothly, usually means you’re walking right into a trap of some kind.”

“Have you given further thought to my request?”

I sat back in my chair and bounced around her ‘request’ in my head. “Senator, it’ll be difficult enough sneaking about on my own. If I have to worry about you as well, our chances of being discovered go higher.”

“If the chairman’s daughters are here, Ahsoka, they will not just trust you out of hand. They’ve been trained for these situations. Unless they see me and I give the correct verbal code and non-verbal signs, they will assume they’re just being misled and escorted into another trap.”

“You could just teach me those codes and signs,” I pointed out.

Riyo shook her head, “No, Ahsoka, Jedi or not, this is not something shared to anyone outside of the top level government circles.”

I folded my arms and eventually nodded. “Very well. There are some rules I’m going to insist on. When we go searching, you will practically glue yourself to my back. You move when I move, you stay still when I do so. Absolute silence. If I sense you’re going to make an involuntary noise or a mistake, I will take control of that part of your body, whether it be your mouth or your feet. You’ll feel it happening - don’t fight it.”

She blinked in surprise, “Jedi can do that?”

“We can. It’s not a skill used idly or on a whim. I only do so because the alternative is that I have to fight nearly eighty hundred neimoidian gunnery battalion soldiers and about three hundred crew.”

The crew requirements of a Lucrehulk was stupidly small for its size. Something it inherited from its pre-war role as a heavy transport for goods and the money grubbing neimoidians who didn’t want to shell out money for large crews. Even with its current complement, there would be whole sections of the ship that would be utterly deserted. Unfortunately, if we had to search through detention areas, patrols would be naturally concentrated around them, especially if Sib Canay had the chairman’s daughters on board.

“I won’t let it come to that, Ahsoka,” Riyo said firmly. “Let’s return to our performance.”

I nodded at her and made a slashing gesture at my throat.

She nodded in understanding and returned to looking at her datapad.

I ended the looping program and stood, stretching my muscles out. “Senator, shall I call for some dinner to be brought?”

“Yes, please do so, Alenah. We’ll eat then retire for the night.”

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I entered the suite’s main bedroom the next morning bearing a tray of breakfast. It was all local pantoran food, which was probably from exports that had been intercepted as the blockade fell on the world.

The chefs in the kitchen were a mixed group of humans, bith and gran, all under contract to serve the soldiers and crew. Seeing them working there left me with mixed feelings. They were just… ordinary people, working a job. Yet if ever the Federation drove this battleship into the front lines, I’d not hesitate in destroying it.

It was all too easy to fall into the notion that I was just destroying droid controlled vessels, but none of those ships only had droids on-board. There were organics aboard, volunteers, from the various CIS worlds who fully believed in their cause, who had families, who saw their sacrifice as helping those families to live in a galaxy that would hopefully be better. A new dawn where their worlds and labor weren’t exploited for the core worlds benefit alone. A world without the onerous, ancient Republic lording at them from tens of thousands of light years away.

I focused to redirect myself away from that train of thought.

I let the light from behind me spill into the bedroom as I walked in.

It had no effect in waking Riyo up.

I put the tray down on the bed stand. “Senator?” I said softly.

She remained in la-la land.

“Senator?”

Slightly louder this time, accompanied by a slight tickle on her nose, using the lightest touch of TK.

She groaned and scratched her nose, “Wh- wha-” A huge yawn and stretch, letting me see that while pantorans were conservative in dress and in public affairs, that didn’t seem to extend to private spaces such as the bedroom. “Ah, oh dear,” Riyo realized the show she was giving and pulled her blanket up.

“Breakfast is served, Senator.”

She blinked again as her wits returned further and looked at the tray. “Ah, thank you, Alenah. Did you eat anything yet?”

“Yes, Senator. We can begin our program as soon as you are fed and dressed,” I said to her with a pointed look and subtle hand signal.

“Excellent, thank you.”

I nodded, slightly bowing my head in acknowledgement and retreated into the main room.

Riyo took almost forty minutes to emerge, seemingly despite her best efforts at hurrying. She was not a morning person and had only partially managed to tame her pink hair into its elaborate style. She thankfully did not wear a dress, electing to don a pair of elegant dark red trousers, blouse and shoes that she could at least run in.

Seeing she was ready I tapped the button on the portable terminal.

R3 had worked through the night to further aid our mission in various ways. I had also helped and managed to squeeze in four hours of normal sleep.

“We’re clear, senator,” I said standing in front of the suite’s main doors.

She approached me hesitantly and I had to guide her with my left hand to stand closer, pulling her in until her bust was squishing against my back. I guided her arms to loop and lock around my waist.

“Uh, Ahsoka, I thought…” she trailed off and I could sense her awkward embarrassment as she felt my back and butt pressing against her. She was even doing the pantoran equivalent of a blush.

“To keep us unobserved in the minds of those who will see us is not easy, senator. The less I have to do, the better.”

“I see,” she coughed and cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“I also need the proximity as it’ll make it easier to head off any uncontrollable sounds you might make, such as sneezing. Now, match my stride, left leg, right leg.”

We practiced a bit and soon found a comfortable rhythm, it was a bit like a weird reversed dance.

“We can also speak to each other like this,” I said to her mind directly.

The direct contact also meant no need for a Force Bond.

The experience of mind-to-mind communication through the Force was initially quite startling and she almost jumped out of her skin in fright, but settled down when she realized what was happening. It also took a few tries for her to ‘think’ properly in a way that would register as ‘speech’ to me, but she was a very intelligent person and learned quickly.

“This is so weird,” she thought. I caught glimpses of her thoughts turning towards a… great uncle? Who had been a Jedi… Ah, so she at least had some experience with certain tricks and powers of the Force.

I reached out with TK, and the front doors parted. They wouldn’t register as having opened at all thanks to R3’s overnight slicing. Lifesign sensors were also being actively spoofed.

We walked carefully down the first hallway and the first test came with a neimoidian guard pair who were stationed to watch over us directly.

I reached out with the Force to short out the overhead lighting within their sightlines.

The light panel crackled and popped almost explosively, drawing both their attention.

One of the guards left his post to check it out. This meant I smoothly blanketed their minds with Force Perception and we ‘dance walked’ right past them without them batting an eye at us.

Riyo had been a ball of tension the entire time and seeing my abilities in action lifted a great weight from her mind. She had retained a slight skepticism regarding whether I could actually do what I said, mostly a preconception she had internalized from her great uncle on what Jedi could and couldn’t do.

“We should be clear for the next eighty meters,” I reassured her.

“That- That was amazing,” she thought.

“The Force can have a strong influence on the mind,” I sent with amusement, unable to resist the quip.

The next corridor had a visual sensor to worry about. R3 took care of that and kept me updated via the comlink on my wrist with a small holo panel that displayed text to me. We fast walked as quickly as possible through its field of view to keep the droids and neimoidians watching the feeds clueless.

We had to pause in the corner of the next intersection to let a patrol of four neimoidians pass. Their minds were influenced rather easily in comparison to clones. As while rigid military discipline did produce endurance and strength of mind to endure hardship, it molded them into patterns and predictability. The only benefit they had was natural reproduction and diversity, which could give rise to truly strong minds, but thankfully these four didn’t possess that. I sensed they were thoroughly bored and their attention was firmly on just carrying out their scheduled patrol. They were also within their ‘nothing boxes’, the part of the mind where they could just ‘not think or worry’. This also hugely helped in lightening the workload of influencing their perception.

Our speed was naturally slow, but progress was steady.

The next obstacle of note was near our first turbolift ride.

I flicked a finger to short out a maintenance droid’s optics, then picked up Riyo in piggyback style before bursting into a blur of speed to get past it.

She thankfully didn’t scream, managing to keep it in and buried her face beside my rear lekku and neck.

I had to spare a bit of concentration to keep from giggling as that was a rather sensitive area, it was the human equivalent of tickling someone in the armpits.

I put her down back on her feet as we stopped next to the lift.

“Sorry about that, senator.”

“It’s fine, just… a warning next time. That was very disorientating.”

“There might not be enough time for me to warn you, but I will make the attempt.”

We had to wait a minute before the lift car arrived and I waited for R3’s prompt that it was safe to enter.

Once inside, I didn’t touch the lift controls as that would be a big red flag in the system, so let R3 handle getting us to the appropriate destination. The doors closed and the hum of the lift streaking along gravitic motivators reverberated through the car.

“Ahsoka, wouldn’t it be easier to just carry me like that? Wouldn’t things go faster?”

“Senator, I certainly could, in an emergency. This is not an emergency yet and I would prefer being as efficient as possible with my stamina and strength.”

“Ah, of course. Sorry.” She felt quite stupid for not having thought of that. Her great uncle’s seemingly limitless stamina coming to her mind.

“Nothing to apologize for.”

The ride ended and we had to pause for a moment to let another patrol pass by, before R3 opened the doors.

We resumed our slow journey and I began to find that it was much easier to just use my senses to remain aware of their relative positions and pause at times to let patrols move past us. Thereby limiting how often I had to use mentally taxing Force Perception.

Finally we reached our destination; Detention level 15J. It was on one of the lowest levels of the detachable spherical section of the battleship. It was quite expansive and much larger than any detention area on any comparable Republic ship. Now that I thought about it, mass prisoner transport was something that these ships had been used for in the past. Some Outer Rim worlds were known to literally sell the prison populations of their planets, to either ease overpopulation or just to turn a profit.

Now we ran into the first truly tricky problem to confront.

There was only one way in and one way out. The entrance of which was staffed by two neimoidian guards. One sitting behind a control desk and another standing on the other side of the corridor, armed with a blaster staff.

I could immediately tell that these two were alert, suspicious and quite fearful. They had to have some idea of just who was being kept in the long corridor of cells beyond the door.

Force Perception was not going to cut it here.

“We’re going to have to try another approach, senator. You can let go of my waist, but try to stay somewhat behind me if I have to subdue these two with more forceful means.”

She stepped back and looked nervously at me. I returned a confident, easy smile and we strode forward. R3 confirmed he had the surveillance looped.

Our footsteps had both guards looking up and the brief surprise at our presence was quickly changed into a stern neutrality. Both of them clearly recognized us and were inwardly panicking. We were both diplomatic guests of the Federation, that meant we couldn’t be harmed, detained or forcefully moved until we broke their law on the ship.

“I’m sorry, senator. The detention block is closed to visitors. There are currently no pantoran citizens detained here,” said the seated guard. I sensed his left hand was near a panic button, whilst his right was closing on the handle of a blaster pistol.

I pushed into both minds with a Mind Trick.

“You will both relax,” I said sternly.

“We will relax,” the guards chorused.

“Hand off the alarm, put away your blaster.”

“Hands off the button, my blaster is going on the floor,” the guard smiled dreamily as he did both actions.

“Come stand next to your partner.”

“I’m going.”

Both guards now stood next to each other, almost swaying on their feet.

“You will let us both pass,” I said, pushing hard on their minds.

“We will let you both pass.”

We walked past them and when we were beyond the threshold…

“You will resume your posts, nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

“We’ll resume our posts, nothing happened.”

Both neimoidians followed the order and I spent a few moments checking to make sure it stuck.

I grabbed Riyo’s hand and hurried away from there, already starting to feel the beginnings of a headache. I had probably overdone that one.

From there we passed through three long corridors of adjoining cell blocks. The place was naturally designed to confuse anyone who didn’t know the layout and there were no signs or markers to indicate direction. There weren’t even numbers on the recessed cells.

There was one thing that worked to our benefit, as our target stood out like a beacon of life to my senses in the empty detention level. I had already found her last night using Farsight to explore the various detention levels of the ship, so there was no need to go check each one.

I stopped next to the cell in question and pointed at it, before again emphasizing silence to Riyo with a gesture to my lips.

This was going to send the fox into the henhouse, as no amount of remote slicing could stop the hardline alerts on independent air gapped circuits.

My hand slapped on the large door release button.

The cell door hissed into the ceiling to reveal a darkened space, lit only by eerie green lighting strips.

A young, slightly chubby pantoran female, looking very scuffed and wearing dark blue formal pants, blouse and black shoes, was seated on her bum, hugging her own legs. Standing over her were two armed B1 droids in silent vigil.

They turned and immediately began raising their blasters to target us.

My TK snapped out even faster and first crumpled their arms, to prevent them from pulling the triggers, before I raised them into the air and did a fair approximation of what would happen to them in a trash compactor.

“A J- Je Je- di…”

Clumps of metal fell to the floor.

Chi Eekway Papanoida stared at what had been two war droids and shook her head in amazement. She stood awkwardly with visible pain at having been seated for a long time and her eyes widened.

“Senator Chuchi!”

Riyo entered the cell quickly and made a number of hand signals and said, “The Moon goddess in three phases by nine rotations, acklay, tra’cor, five, one.”

“The sun, four phases, eight rotations, sarlacc, kaadu, four, five,” Chi replied, also rapidly doing a set of double handed hand signs.

“Correct,” Riyo breathed a sigh of relief.

“How did you find me?”

“A combination of luck, deduction, planning and the efforts of Padawan Tano here,” she gestured to me.

“Greetings Chi Eekway,” I bowed my head briefly.

“A pleasure to meet you, thank you,” Chi said with delight, returning the bow.

“Your thanks is premature, until we can confront and arrest Sib Canay, preferably without getting the entire ship turned on us. Where is your sister?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head sadly. “We were separated on the journey back to Pantora, on the seventh day.”

“More than likely she is being held then on Tatooine, your father and brother are there now pursuing her trail.”

“That’s a relief, I hope they don’t get in over their heads. That’s a nasty place.”

“Follow me, both of you. Chi, allow the senator to guide you. We’re going to have company soon.”

I reached out with TK and summoned the droid’s E-5 blaster rifles to hand and hurried out the cell.

We rushed along the detention cell corridors, but our progress was hampered by Chi. She had remained relatively immobile for so long that her legs were protesting by giving her nasty cramps.

Riyo flung one of Chi’s arms around her shoulders and helped to keep her moving.

When we approached the guards I had Mind Tricked before I knew that we couldn’t afford the delay to do it again.

“Hey! What is the meaning of this? How did you get there?” said the guard with the blaster staff.

I threw a Force Sleep over both and they collapsed to the floor.

“What was that?” Riyo asked in concern.

“They’re just having a forced nap, keep moving.” I looked down at my wrist as it beeped with a message from R3. “An alarm was triggered, but it wasn’t shipwide. It only went to the main bridge.”

“What does that mean?” Chi asked with a wince.

“A division in the ranks, Ahsoka?” Riyo asked.

“Yes, those were the first CIS battle droids we’ve seen on board so far, when there should be none.”

We made it back to the main turbolift of the detention level when I received another warning from R3.

“Sithspit,” I swore. “Sib Canay and a complement of B2 battle droids are in the lift already, heading to this floor.”

“What are we going to do?” Riyo asked with worry.

“I will do what I must, senator.” My TK reached out and I pulled at the corridor wall a few meters away, which screamed as metal tore along the height of the wall, forming an impromptu bit of cover. “Both of you hide behind there.” The two pantorans looked at each other and I sensed their reluctance. “Now, senator.”

Riyo eventually nodded and helped Chi behind the metal cover.

I went over both E-5 blasters, checking their charge levels and how they sat in my hands. Naturally, the ergonomics were garbage for organic hands, but it was passable. The problem was the bolts from this mass produced gun would do minimal damage to the armor of a B2 and would only penetrate if I peppered the same point with multiple shots.

I would need to prepare the battlefield a bit more.

My will reached out and I began ripping multiple sheets of steel from the walls and ceiling.

I took position about ten meters from the turbolift in the other direction and piled my impromptu shields around my feet. Then followed that up by dropping the blasters as well. If I was visibly armed, Sib might order the B2s to open fire immediately.

The turbolift door audibly pinged and swished open.

Three B2s stomped out before Sib emerged with a frown.

Since I was standing in the open so prominently, I immediately drew his attention.

“What? You! Servant! Where is the senator?”

“You have much more to worry about than her, Sib. CIS battle droids on this ship, in this blockade, the chairman of Pantora’s daughter in your detention cells. I thought this was supposed to be a Trade Federation ship.”

Three more B2s emerged to make a squad of six that swiftly merged into a formation.

He narrowed his large red eyes at me, his mind working furiously and with growing suspicion. “Who are you?”

The front two B2’s arms were abruptly wrenched up into firing positions, before they were lifted in the air and twisted to face each other. I focused hard and the wrist blasters erupted with fire at point blank range.

The armor held for the first two shots, but failed on the next and the B2’s died as their core components were fried by the bolts penetrating and then bouncing around inside their armored chassis.

Sib stared at the entire event with stupefaction before he shook himself and shouted, “Kill the Jedi!”

The problem with his order was that I was still in control of the two wrecked B2s.

The remaining four raised their arms to try to shoot me but found their aim utterly blocked by the destroyed B2s which I used as wrecking balls to slam into them.

The front two lost their balance and fell backwards, also catching the two behind them.

I dropped the wrecked B2s and TK’d the arms of the toppled B2s, utterly crushing them into useless scrap.

“What is happening? What is happening?” The B2’s protested stupidly in their deep voices.

I raised a hand and clenched a fist whilst staring implacably at Sib.

The B2’s lost their legs next and were rendered effectively useless as nothing more than heavy paperweights.

Both E-5 blasters zoomed themselves into my hands and I walked over to each B2 and shot each straight through their only vulnerable point - the tiny red sensor cluster on their left shoulder.

Sib tried to run for the turbolift at this point, but found himself lifted into the air.

“What? Stop that! Unhand me Jedi! You’ll regret this!”

“I think she won’t,” Riyo said pointedly, walking out from behind her little hiding place. “Your affiliation to Separatists can’t be more clear given the evidence laying about us and the orders we witnessed you giving to these droids.”

She tapped on her own comlink, “Ambassador Prutzo, could you please meet me down at the detention level. I think there is something you must see.”

“What? Oh, senator. I was waiting for your call on when to begin the negotiations today. Why are you down there?”

“Please, ambassador, come down and everything will be made clear.”

“Very well,” he grumbled.

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The Federation ambassador walked out of the lift, took one look at the scene he was presented with and was on his comlink in a second and barking orders in neimoidian.

Five minutes later the lift opened again and a twelve strong squad of heavily armed Neimoidian Guard soldiers marched out and took Sib Canay into custody.

They didn’t touch the remains of the war droids as Senator Chuchi had taken possession of them under diplomatic powers on behalf of Pantora, backed up by the threat of my own presence enforcing her claim and acting on behalf of the Jedi Order and Republic.

“You’ve really dug your own hole, Sib,” Prutzo snarled at the now handcuffed and former commander of the Federation blockade fleet.

“I will only speak to my litigator,” said Sib in reply, staring mulishly at him.

“We are businessmen, we deal in trade and commerce,” snapped Prutzo. That surprised even me, as I sensed nothing but truth in the statement and in the ambassador’s emotions.

“Perhaps your true business is war profiteering, ambassador,” Riyo stepped forward and glared at him.

Prutzo bristled at the undiplomatic accusation, “How dare you!”

“I dare, because you claim to have no involvement, yet here stands the chairman’s daughter on your ship, held by your former commander who was in charge of Separatist war droids. I understand your position, but I doubt the rest of the Senate will.”

“You would blackmail me?”

“No, this is simply business. We could of course be persuaded to defend your unfortunate circumstances to the Senate. That is… if this blockade ends.”

The ambassador looked around at everyone waiting on his decision. He visibly girded himself and nodded, “I’ll… see what I can do. Captain, take the prisoner to the Chindee. I don’t doubt that he still has help on this ship.”

“Yes, ambassador.” The chief Guard officer grabbed Sib by the cuffs and led him away.

“I will call for a cargo pallet so that this evidence can be moved to your ship, senator.”

“Good, under the circumstances I think this calls for a change in our negotiated position, ambassador. We will no longer be seeking membership in the CIS. You can now meet us in Pantora City, to discuss how we will move forward from here. We will be leaving as soon as the evidence is aboard.”

The ambassador grumbled, “Very well.”

“Come Ahsoka, you are welcome as my guest on Pantora and my home. I’d really like to show you the world you helped save.”

“I’d be honored, senator.”

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Have a great weekend! Was at a specialist this week for my kidneys and things have cleared up, awaiting some test results now. Cheers.

The Force Wills - Chapter 50

It was over within moments, yet it still took me a few seconds to recover from the shock of being within spitting distance of the explosion.

A brief frantic scan from my position lying on top of Ulvy told me that it had not been a thermal detonator. The building’s structure was too intact and the floor above us hadn’t collapsed. This grenade seemed like someone had combined the concepts of a shrapnel spitter and incendiary device. It was firmly an anti-personnel weapon and whoever had thrown it or was organizing this attack still wanted this building in one piece, but not the people in it or its contents.

Thankfully there wasn’t a lot that could catch fire. There were no huge racks of clothes, merely stands that contained a few dozen exemplar outfits, all of which had been blasted apart and burning merrily. The entire store was a scorched mess, with shrapnel and the overpressure destroying everything electronic. The smoke of what was burning was steadily filling the room.

I felt Ulvy stirring beneath me and I delved hard into my prescience.

I rolled off her and hissed, “We need to move. Now.”

“W- wh- what… what… how…”

I grabbed her by the collar, using the Force to augment my strength and a bit of TK. It meant I dragged her easily along the floor towards the thickest structural support near an exterior wall, directly underneath the two blown out windows here. She made no initial protest at being manhandled like this. Her wits were still scrambled.

What was with this woman?

This was a full blown hit on her life, with all potential witnesses and bystanders also being taken care of. There was a sniper on the opposite street and in another probability line, he’d blasted me in the back and it was only instinctual Tutaminis that stopped me from dying instantly, but it had left me gravely injured.

I opened myself to every sense I had, stretching it to a full kilometer in every direction, but narrowed my focus to everything in the immediate area.

“What- what’s happening?” she babbled.

“You tell me, Ulvy. Stay down! There’s a sniper on the opposite building, including a ten strong squad of armed goons backing him in various firing positions.”

“How can you tell?”

“That doesn’t matter, feel free to stick your head out and see,” I jerked a thumb up to the window.

She gulped, her eyes only now taking in the state of the store and finally some gears began turning in her head. “I think…  I’ll take your word for it.”

“Do you have a speeder?”

She nodded, “It’s in the back, we’d need to open the main doors there…”

“Sithspit,” I swore as another probability hit me.

I raised my right WESTAR, pointing it out the window and ‘blind fired’ two shots. The characteristic energetic whining moan of the weapon echoed through the smoky shop.

On the roof of the opposite building, the ganger wielding the grenade launcher, including two fellow goons, died when the blaster bolts found their way right onto the tubular launcher he had been holding and intending to send another explosive device our way. It wrecked the weapon and made a mess of the grenade already in the tube, which exploded.

Ulvy gaped at me in surprise and her hand flexed on her blaster. She took advantage of the confusion and briefly exposed the smallest bit of her face for a moment to take in what had happened, unable to contain her curiosity. She flinched back down immediately and just a second later an orange blaster bolt seared through the air where her head had been and spent itself on the floor of the smoldering shop.

It heralded a storm of fire as the poorly disciplined goons started to pepper the window with bolts where my shot had come from.

“Satisfied?!” I asked wryly.

She nodded frantically.

I reached out with the Force towards the dressing room.

Three things came flying at me.

My gun belt, thankfully intact but scorched, my shoes in similar state, and the burnt mess of my overall.

I sent the latter off to the side to continue smoldering, whilst I guided the belt to hover around my hips and close. My shoes flew to my feet and I stuck them in, using TK to act much like hands would and put them on. I could’ve been less flashy about this, but I couldn’t afford to let go of my WESTARs, not in this situation.

She was gaping again.

I rolled away from the window, getting my feet under me and crouch walked to another window a few meters away that was not being targeted.

I stuck my left WESTAR out and fired three times.

Two goons died messily as the shots connected with their faces, whilst the third hit lower and went through a neck.

That was the problem with the WESTAR, it was obviously not a long range weapon, and only the Force and my senses were letting me ‘cheat’ like this.

Five left and the sniper.

They shifted their fire uselessly to try to tag me.

“Can you fire that thing?!” I snapped at her.

“At this range it’s useless,” she retorted angrily, brandishing her blaster.

“The threat of your fire is enough!” I said, sending off more shots at our attackers from another window. “There’s a backup team that will flank us soon.”

“Fine!”

She stuck her arm out, as little of her head as she could get away with and started firing.

Naturally, all she hit was either sky or the neighboring building our attackers were using for their high ground. The effect it did have though was to split the enemy fire raining down on us.

It left me enough of an opening to actually use both my WESTARs, firing four times and finally killing the sniper.

It was the final straw that finally pulled the wind out of their sails. Their confidence flagged, especially as another burst of shots from me killed two more.

They broke ranks and ran, heading for a small staircase desperately.

I was on my feet and rushed over to grab Ulvy to get her on her feet. “Lead the way, we have a small escape window now.”

That finally seemed to energize her and we ran for another adjoining door. This led to a narrow hallway with more doors, which we sprinted down. She slammed her hand down on the controls of a door at the end of this hallway and we rushed inside.

This was a small garage that looked like it could fit five speeders at most. There was only one here and it was not something that inspired confidence in a smooth getaway.

It had a large blunt nose, with a tapered narrowing fuselage to its aft end. On either side of the nose were relatively small nacelles which housed the thrusters. It had a decent white paint job and at least looked like it would do its job. It was meant for only one person, but I could see how both of us could fit on the saddle in a pinch. There was no indication who the manufacturer was, which only added to my apprehension.

Ulvy ripped the other side of her dress with a wince before she flung her leg over the seat and sat down on it.

It drew my attention to my own state of dress or lack thereof, I cast off that distraction.

I probed the future on whether it would be better for me to pilot…

Nope.

I rushed forward and hopped on the back end, causing the onboard repulsor to briefly whine at the extra weight, before it compensated.

“We have to go, now.”

She nodded, flicked a few switches and the bike’s engines hissed and whined to life. The garage door opened by itself after she tapped a button that definitely looked like an aftermarket addition.

A random human ganger stopped dead and his eyes widened as he stared straight at the nose of our speeder.

I felt Ulvy’s contempt and she twisted hard on the throttle.

The speeder rocketed forward and I felt the goon smacking off the blunt nose with a meaty thump.

She twisted hard left on the handlebars. We both leaned properly to aid the turn.

The backup squad of Pyke syndicate goons reacted quickly, shouting and raised their blasters to shoot, but we were already down the street and no shots came close to hitting us.

The speeder was nowhere near its max speed at 70kph, but traffic and the short twisty streets were slowing us down.

“Where are you heading?!” I shouted.

“Somewhere safe!”

I looked behind me as the hum of speeders rapidly approaching from behind us reached my montrals. Half a dozen of them, all bearing armed riders and the Force screamed in warning.

My TK grabbed a hold of the controls and slewed us right and left whilst keeping our forward momentum going.

Blaster shots from our pursuers whizzed by agonizingly close.

“What the…” Ulvy fought uselessly against my control for a moment, but I let her have the controls back.

“Go anywhere but there! We’re being pursued and they have a tracker on this speeder!”

“What? But…”

“Listen to me! I don’t care what you’re involved in or why the syndicate is after you, but they couldn’t have reacquired us so quickly without a tracking device. If you go back to where you think you’re safe, you will compromise that location!”

I pointed my right WESTAR behind us and fired.

Our pursuers immediately began weaving and trying to dodge my fire, but I simply timed the shots and the two lead speeders ended up dodging themselves into the bolts. One shot nailed a ganger straight in the chest, causing him to flop lifelessly onto the front of his speeder, pushing on the controls so it swerved right into another speeder.

Both veered off course and crashed into a building with a crunch of crumpling metal and a brief small explosion.

I fired a last shot right into the control vane of the next enemy speeder, sending it wobbling at high speed to the right where its rider decided to bail out rather than crash.

My thumb flicked out the spent power cell, and a fresh one leaped into the base of the grip from my gun belt under the power of TK.

Ulvy made a hard right turn and sped up a smaller side street, before turning left onto another larger two-way street.

“We need to ditch this thing!” I shouted at her as the syndicate speeders briefly lost visual sightline, before again catching up.

She nodded and gunned the throttle as the street opened with a break in traffic.

There.

A few hundred meters ahead of us was a whole bunch of parked speeders near a cantina. I pointed at them and she angled the speeder towards it.

“We’re gonna need to first deal with them!” she shouted.

“Leave that to me, can you hotwire a speeder?!”

“I can, but it’ll depend on how good the security system is!”

She left the braking for as late as possible, to not clue in our pursuers that we were making a stand.

The instant we were at a dead stop at the cantina, I vaulted off the speeder and began walking into the middle of the street

The three syndicate speeders were two hundred meters distant and closing fast.

I embraced the Force to a heightened level, letting it flow and surge.

The gangers clearly spotted me and there was a brief pause, before they began shooting.

They were such terrible shots with their blasters at this range, that I only needed to lean left to dodge a lucky bolt that had gotten close.

Their speeders bore down on me, clearly intending to run me over.

The instant they were sixty meters away, my WESTARs snapped up.

I fired four times and gave a large sidestep to the right and presented my right side to them.

Two seconds later the enemy speeders blurred past me, one of them missing me by an arm length.

The syndicate goons all slumped on top of their speeders, dead, or fell off, until they all crashed with muted crunches of metal and flame.

I was unable to resist giving both my pistols a single spin before holstering them and walking off the road towards Ulvy.

She was already busy working on an ugly speeder that looked like someone had taken a car seat and mounted it on the guts of a normal bike-type speeder, then jury-rigged the entire thing to work. It was clearly a backyard build and was unlikely to have modern security measures.

She gaped at me, including a number of bystanders outside the cantina who had seen the whole thing.

I tapped my wrist and flicked my fingers in front of her face.

She blinked and glared at me briefly before ripping open a small maintenance panel near the speeder’s controls.

I headed over to our old speeder and started a search for the bug which was transmitting its location. I spotted it eventually lodged in a small gap on the underside of the speeder. So it could’ve been placed there by anyone at any time who passed the vehicle as it was parked in the street. My hand grabbed it and after a few hard tugs, it was dislodged -  a simple magnetic clamp system. It was a white painted disc about a centimeter thick and would not have been easy to see unless you were purposefully looking for it.

Then I gave it a few casual tosses in the air, catching it, to test the weight.

My eyes scanned around looking for a suitable candidate.

A very rickety public passenger ground shuttle was approaching.

I grinned in amusement and threw the tracker as it passed me. It latched on the side of the shuttle and went on its merry way.

Enjoy assholes, I thought uncharitably to the syndicate goons who would intercept the shuttle after a frantic race from their HQ.

“Hey, what are you doing?! That’s my speeder!”

I sighed wearily and headed over to Ulvy. She was being confronted by the owner of the ugly speeder. A short, thin man who looked like he had just walked out of a classic steampunk setting or a scrapyard. He wore brown overalls with goggles and a wide brimmed hat, an angry face stained with grease and tanned skin. It seemed like he was in his mid thirties but I couldn’t be entirely sure. He was even brandishing a large hyperspanner at her like a weapon.

I could probably Mind Trick the guy to happily give us the key or access code, but that was just too much with all the potential witnesses on scene. Revealing myself as an obvious Jedi to Ulvy just to survive was one thing, this was different. I needed to remain in my undercover character out in public like this.

“Excuse me, Mr…?” I stopped next to Ulvy and folded my arms.

He blinked, looked me up and down in astonishment, which I endured patiently, then he answered, “Uh, Kenau, I’m… Jafan Kenau.”

“Mr. Kenau, we have two options here,” I said, my hands blurred with speed and in my right was a WESTAR, not pointed at him, but held lazily with the barrel safely pointed in the sky and in my left hand was a 500 credit chit. “You either accept the money, which would actually allow you to build a much better speeder or we choose the cheaper and easier route.”

He visibly gulped and I sensed a weird conflict of emotions going through the guy. He felt fear but… he was also getting turned on by me and in turn felt guilty for doing so. He pointed at the credit chit nervously.

I flicked at him and he awkwardly caught it, nearly fumbling the catch in a rather hilarious manner. When he had it, he squinted at the chit and after making sure it was the real deal, pocketed it. He reached into his other pocket, pulled out a remote key and chucked it at Ulvy.

“Just push the red button to unlock, yellow to lock,” he instructed.

Ulvy hopped onto the speeder’s seat and after working the key, its engines started up, reverberating with a deep growl. The HOTAS controls were rather unusual for a speeder, but she seemed confident with them, testing the play and flexibility of the stick and throttle setup.

She frowned at me when she saw me making no move to get on.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“That depends, will you still be able to get me what I ordered at your shop, considering it's probably on fire by now,” I smiled pleasantly while waving at Kenau pointedly and gesturing with my pistol. He gulped again, gave us a frightened look and re-entered the cantina.

“I don’t actually own the shop, just work there. I can make your outfits at home as well.”

I holstered my blaster and hopped on the speeder, taking an awkward seat next to her as she shifted left on it as far as she could.

She pulled back on the throttle for a full reverse, twisting the stick, to turn the rear of the speeder properly into the street, before pushing forward on the throttle and twisting the stick right.

The speeder shot forward with a surprising kick, and we were soon cruising at nearly 90 kph through the streets of Mon Gazza. The speeder even had a forward air shield, which Ulvy found the controls for after a bit of experimentation.

“You realize your home is being watched by the Pykers,” I continued the conversation, raising my voice a little to be heard over the noisy engine. “This was an assassination attempt disguised as a shakedown. Your speeder was bugged with a location tracker, so they learned your routine for who knows how long. So now my only question is why do you merit this attention, Ulvy?”

“Why should I answer you?” she retorted. “You may have saved my life. Thank you for that, but it doesn’t mean I owe you my life story, Miss Jedi.”

“Do you see a lightsaber anywhere on me?” I waved my hand pointedly at myself.

“No, which can mean you’re either here undercover or you’ve left the Jedi Order for some reason. Since you want pantoran clothes, I’m going to guess it’s the former.”

“You can assume whatever you want about me, Ulvy.”

“Oh, really? How about this… What would it take to hire your amazing talents and trigger finger?”

“I’m just a freighter captain, Ulvy. Trying to find my way in the galaxy, earn a living. I just so happen to be going on a run towards Pantora and I’ve found an opportunity there that will require me to appear before some high officials. Something I can’t do in either my underwear or stained overalls.”

“Ten thousand,” she said abruptly.

I gave her an incredulous stare, even as I sensed she was fully confident in stating that number.

“Ten thousand credits?”

She nodded, “Yes, to hire you on to… well, let’s just say there is a group here on Mon Gazza that would rather the Syndicate find another planet to exploit.”

My brain had a slight hiccup as I processed that. The Force then decided to throw a bit of prescience my way, focused on Miss Ulvy.

…Mon Gazza city aflame… smoke rising from multiple points… fighting in the streets, masses of people charging into various buildings wielding fire, blasters and vibroswords… the spice mines of the planet erupting in earth shaking explosions visible from space… Syndicate members killing hundreds, thousands, but in turn being slaughtered by mobs…

And it would all happen if the woman next to me died.

A planetary scale revolt.

Why?

She was by all appearances just a seamstress and dancer… who also happened to be involved somehow in a plan to destroy the Pyke Syndicate on Mon Gazza. She was targeted for assassination, meaning that already the group behind this had a security leak. How extensive was it?

This couldn’t be a John Connor situation. No, it was more that she was somehow the match that would ignite the flames of revolution on this world.

I reached into a compartment on my belt and pulled out a generalized comlink that belonged to my alias. Then slapped it onto my bare forearm, before powering it up. A small holo of the navigation routes appeared along the Corellian Run and I fiddled with it to get a calculation going. It spat out a result before I put it on standby.

There was also the bigger picture to consider. Mon Gazza falling into civil war and strife could potentially slice the tail end of the Corellian Run off from civilian traffic. Ships using the crossroads it sat on could be diverted using alternate routing, but it would mean adding multiple days to any typical hyper journey and pushing up transport costs by significant amounts. The ripple effect this would have on worlds in the adjoining sectors, including Pantora, was hard to even estimate, but the price of shipping out here would naturally rise… on top of the rise that the war had already produced.

Never mind Pantora being blockaded and facing increasing pressure to secede to the CIS, a civil war in Mon Gazza could bring multiple sectors into the Separatist fold including a significant portion of the Corellian Run hyper lane.

Could this ‘group’ be the CIS? Or were they least backed by them?

I looked at her, “If you or your people pay, then you have my time for the next two days and potentially longer in other ways. I still have an appointment to keep and I’m not tying myself to whatever banner you have. I also have the condition that you keep my Jedi-ness to yourself.”

“It’ll be difficult to prove your worth if you don’t at least mention it to the group, you’re getting a lot of money. Saving my life only gets you in the door, Captain Mizal.”

“If you can so easily offer me a contract like that and I can tell you’re being truthful, then this little revolution of yours is not lacking in funds. It tells me you’re somewhat short on the teeth to make it stick and to actually kick the Pyke Syndicate off this world.”

“We can be accommodating on the minor details, captain, but we want value for our money,” she said, twisting the controls to swing us around an annoyingly slow speeder.

“Very well, let’s see what your leaders have to say.”

Great, becoming an undercover merc was not how I imagined this trip. I just wanted some frakking pantoran clothes and now I was trying to stop or at least delay this powderkeg of a planet from blowing up.

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Ulvy ended up flying us through the city in circles for a few hours before she was satisfied we weren’t being followed.

Finally she stopped outside a sixty floor building in the south west quadrant of the city. On the outside it looked very imposing, almost monolithic. It had no windows whatsoever and the exterior looked quite dilapidated and hadn’t seen a cleaning or repaint in decades. Other clues on the exterior started to give me the impression that this place had been the local’s attempt at the idea of a megabuilding - a place where people lived, worked and shopped inside and would have very little need to leave.

I sensed a few thousand living beings inside, a small fraction of what it should’ve been able to hold.

“Here we are,” she said, securing the speeder and switching off its engines. Then handed the remote key to me.

We hopped off and began climbing the extensive wide stairs that led up to the main entrance.

There were no doors or security perimeter, everything was wide open and people of every description and species were entering and leaving.

Inside was a gigantic multi floor lobby that looked like it had been converted into a bustling indoor market of sorts. It catered mostly food but there was the occasional stall that had electronics and mechanical components, even a very ramshackle droid shop.

The other thing that struck me was how little attention I was actually garnering walking around in underwear so brief that I might as well be not wearing them at all. Everyone was just keeping their heads down and going about their day. Even those who spotted me didn’t bat an eye and it was only the occasional human or twi’lek who I sensed a reaction from, and even then it was the emotional equivalent of ‘Oh, nice, anyway…’ or they saw my guns and quickly went out of their way to avoid staring or attracting my attention.

Ulvy led the way to a bank of central elevators and we entered the middle one that was marked ‘40 - 60’. She tapped the controls, which failed to respond. She tapped again, still nothing, then smashed her fist on the panel.

It lit up and the doors closed, the car rocked a bit and began to rise.

I immediately became aware that we were being watched and my technometric senses registered a very subtle scan happening throughout the car.

It stopped on the 50th floor after a slow, groaning ascent. She tapped a few seemingly random buttons on the control pad.

The lift resumed its ascent.

It stopped again on the 55th.

The doors opened and I was faced with a wall of guns.

Said guns were wielded by an eclectic collection of people arrayed around the landing.

“Easy everyone, she’s with me!” Ulvy rushed forward and raised her hands.

I had sensed no danger, but everyone in that firing line was tensely wound; anger and fear radiated from them all like small suns. Their fingers poised on the triggers of their blasters.

Then a voice spoke from behind them. “Passphrase!”

“Freedom comes only to those with the strength to seize it,” said Ulvy.

There was a long pause.

“Stand down! Off you go gentle beings, thanks for the quick response.”

The firing line lowered their weapons and they quickly dispersed down a variety of exits in the large reception type room the elevator opened up into.

The person ordering them around walked forward and smiled at Ulvy, before she rushed forward and embraced him tightly.

The feelings I was getting from both spoke volumes.

“You’re alive, thank the Force. When we heard about the store and we couldn’t find you…” He spoke with a voice deep in pain yet relief.

“Yes, thanks to her.”

Ulvy’s… lover, was a human male roughly a full head taller than me, and it seemed like he was in his mid to late forties. He had light coffee colored skin with short flowing hair that was decently styled and was showing no trace of baldness that usually came at that age. His nose was also quite prominent, but the high cheekboned facial structure evened it out. He was dressed in an outfit of patterned brown trousers and white shirt, with a partial robe flowing over both shoulders. His shoes, made of worn leather, had soles that were well worn with dust and wouldn’t be an impediment to running.

All in all, I was looking at someone wealthy and had the air of a corporate businessman, but his all-terrain shoes and strong hands showed he wasn’t afraid of work. His eyes and the Force, was telling me this was a hard man, who’d been tested and wouldn’t hesitate in ordering people to their death.

If he’d been part of a faction fighting the Pykes for a long time then I could understand how such a man could be shaped.

He looked me up and down with an evaluating gaze.

“Then you have my thanks…” He trailed off invitingly, breaking his hug from Ulvy to face me properly.

“Captain Mizal, trader and bystander who was caught in the middle of a Syndicate hit squad trying to take out your… girlfriend,” I said flatly.

“Well met, I’m Jaol Heidrer, the owner of Sarg’s Fine Clothiers and other legitimate businesses here on Mon Gazza.”

“I offered her the merc contract,” Ulvy explained shortly.

“Really now Ulv?” he asked, giving her a skeptical eye.

“Those guns on her hips are not just for show, Jaol. She took out a double strength hit squad with sniper support and the back up during the speeder chase. She also sussed out they had a tracker on my speeder, then planted it on public transport. The Pykes should be in chaos trying to figure out what happened.”

Jaol nodded, his eyebrows rising with astonishment and gave me another critical stare, his eyes dropping down to my hips briefly then back to my face.

He suddenly bowed his head slightly and said, “Vor entye, verd be Mando’ad.” (Thank you, warrior of Mandalore.)

“Ni vorer,” (You’re welcome), I replied with a mild grin. “Well, that is surprising.”

He shrugged modestly, “I’m a man of the galaxy and have business in the Mandalore sector on occasion. Those blasters are not just sold to anyone with the credits for them.”

“Wait, wait, Jaol, how can she be a Mandalorian?” Ulvy was clearly baffled, the poor thing.

“Mandalorians are not just humans, Ulv, though the majority of them are.”

“And you’re a long way from the core worlds… Chandrilan?”

Jaol chuckled. “Correct, what gave it away?”

“Family name and you still roll your ‘r’s in their accent of Basic.”

“I’ve tried so hard to get rid of that, but it just won’t go away,” he smiled ruefully. “Now that we’ve cleared the air somewhat, let’s retire to a more comfortable setting and we can discuss the contract.”

He led me straight to what could be the office of any high level exec in the galaxy. Despite his attempt to limit what I saw, I could tell that I had just walked into a combination of a safehouse and waystation. A number of the people I saw had fresh bruising and sores around their necks in a pattern that told me that they recently had slave collars removed. They felt relief and hope but fear was ever present. Everyone in this place had a variation of these emotions.

“Have a seat,” he invited, gesturing to a tall high backed leather chair sitting on the other side of his desk.

It was a desk overflowing with datapads of every description, including flimsiplast organized in binders. Behind his own chair was an active large screen showing news feeds from what I recognized as mostly core world channels.

Sitting down sent a spike of cold across my back and butt from the leather, firmly reminding me of my state of dress. The interior of the megabuilding was on the slightly chilly side but at least this floor seemed to have some form of HVAC still going on.

“Sorry to bother, but you wouldn’t happen to have a spare set of clothing here, Ulvy?”

The seamstress, who had about been ready to take her lover’s lap as a seat, stopped dead and her eyes widened with the realization of someone who had forgotten something.

“Oh sorry, I have a few spare sets of my clothing here, but nothing that would fit you, captain.”

“And given that this is a safehouse for slaves you’ve rescued-” I said pointedly.

“I had wondered about that,” Jaol said delicately.

“Yeah, the hit squad caught us in the middle of a fitting session,” she explained. “Again, this is a safehouse, we have food, spare beds. We generally have to make or acquire new clothes and do makeovers to change the identities of rescued slaves, but it’s done on demand and varies too much for us to really keep stocks of anything like that here.”

“I’ll see that something is arranged as soon as possible, Captain Mizal,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Now, let’s talk business, shall we?"

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It was evening, and I was meditating in a small bedroom of the safehouse that had been given for my use. I couldn’t use the traditional pose as it was somewhat of an obvious tell that I was a Jedi, so I was simply laid back on the small cot with my hands folded under my head. There was no surveillance camera I could sense in the room, which was either remarkably trusting of Jaol or he was simply testing me, as there definitely were cameras in the hallway outside the room.

Until my clothes arrived I had to stay off the streets as he had received reports that the syndicate was scouring the city for Ulvy and myself. The primary descriptor of which would be, ‘a practically naked togruta wearing only shoes and armed with dual blasters’.

It also gave me time to thoroughly check out every person assigned to the safehouse via the Force. Jaol had indicated that most of the security seen and unseen was focused on rooting out clawdite changelings, which the Pyke Syndicate was known to use on Mon Gazza. Given the level of security that was required to keep changelings out, it was amazing to think that there was a leak at all, but recent setbacks in their ops and the assassination attempt on his girlfriend was a big red flag.

I had so far surveyed a dozen people in detail with a combination of Farsight, checking their emotions and what they were busy doing in general in the safehouse but hadn’t come up with anything suspicious.

“The Force can take us to the strangest places, make us experience things we never thought could happen. I must admit that this is rather unique in my own experience,” Kina Ha said.

I cracked open an eye and sure enough, she was standing right at the foot of my bed, towering over me with an amused look on her kaminoan face.

“Did you never have to fight butt naked in the wars, master?”

“Generally, we would always have plenty of advanced warning of the enemy coming, surprise is a difficult thing to achieve when you have armies of Force sensitives fighting.”

“Indeed, hang on…” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her. Something was off, she was there but some part of my senses was pointing out a discrepancy. “Anyway, how’s the Twilight, master?”

“It’s partly the reason I’m here. The ship itself is fine, but it’s been locked down by tractor beams and the bay doors closed above it.”

“Guess I left an impression on the dockmaster and then when the syndicate announced they’re looking for a young, armed, female togruta, he was all too eager to volunteer the information.”

“Correct, they attempted to force a boarding by bringing in a slicer, but he was completely unable to gain entry to the ship’s systems. They next tried to physically cut into the hull at the embarkation ramp, but the automated defenses emerged and dispatched them all.”

“My master has been making constant upgrades since we got her,” I said with a satisfied grin.

“If he is responsible for such an impressive system, then I can honestly say I wish we had a Jedi like him with us during the Cold War,” she mused. “No one can even show their face in the docking bay or any of the windows looking out over it. The turrets snipe them all. I am concerned, however, that they will simply open the bay doors again and blast the ship from a higher altitude.”

“ECM kicks in at that point and the ship will sense the attempt, it’ll begin overloading its reactors as a threatening gesture to discourage that. So unless the Pykes are willing to write off half the city and their own lives to just blow up a light freighter, that won’t happen. If things get bad enough master, the main guns can traverse to destroy the tractor emitters and you can fly it out of there,” I explained.

“Oh and how will I do that, seeing as I’m not there at the moment?”

I gave her a raised brow and grinned, “Your projection is almost flawless, Master Ha. There is one thing that you missed though.”

She folded her large hands and looked at me with expectation, “Oh, and what is that?”

“I’ve recently had a lot of tutelage in countering Force Lightning and one thing that followed on from that was my perception of electrically charged particles in the air. In your case, they’re going right through you… you’re not displacing the air as a solid body would.”

I used TK to propel one of my shoes abruptly, and it zipped through her ‘image’ with a slight flare of white.

“To be thwarted by a padawan,” she said wryly. “I must be getting old at last. Now, let me hear everything.”

I gave a quick summary of events and also included what Jaol and I had talked about in our ‘contract’ negotiations.

“He’s part of an alliance of business interests here, who call themselves the Gazzan Chamber. Their stated goal is to kick the syndicate off the planet permanently and they use various means to do that, freeing slaves and getting them smuggled off-world is just one part of it, but it takes up the majority of their time.”

“That is surprising, most businesses on worlds such as this would be firmly in bed with the Pykes,” Master Ha pointed out.

“Well, they were for a long time, but the Pykes got greedy enough about fifteen years ago that the cost of doing business with them firmly turned the wheel of opinion against them among the business leaders. Initially, they did what most companies would, pull up and out. Until the syndicate saw the writing on the wall and decided to make an example of one of them. Apparently they blew up an entire bulk freighter in full view of the city with that businessman still on board. That is how the Chamber got formed.”

“The local companies are in effect hostages.”

I nodded, “By now the Chamber has a large network of safehouses and places out of which they muster and coordinate getting slaves freed. However, I think there’s much more that they’re doing behind the scenes. There has to be off-world backing and finance behind them as well.”

“What leads you to that conclusion, padawan?”

“A vision from the Force, the level of tech and hardware they’re using here and what it would truly require to not only kick the syndicate off Mon Gazza, but keep them from coming back. They’re an interstellar crime organization with distributed assets and firepower to match.”

Kina nodded and fell into a brief contemplation before saying one word, “Spice.”

“Exactly, I have the strong suspicion that the Chamber is also getting their assets in place slowly and steadily, to wreck spice production on this world in a fashion that would make it non-economical to restart. That would mean destruction and collapse of all the mines. Combine this with a conventional revolution with the masses descending on all syndicate members, then they could do it.”

“Even should everything go to plan, the Pykes will still be seeking retribution for such an act. Their reputation and standing will demand it.”

“These businessmen are long term thinkers, judging by Jaol, which is why there has to be a larger player behind this. It could be the CIS, pulling Mon Gazza into their fold would bring multiple sectors of this part of the Outer Rim effectively under their control. The Republic will have to respond, especially since it threatens cutting off Kamino from the Corellian Run. Shipping will have to be rerouted through less economical routes.”

“I see, padawan. Have you considered other potential suspects as the backers?”

“Yes… it could also be the hutts. If Mon Gazza’s spice production was suddenly gone, Kessel would enjoy a sudden boom in market share and prices would also see a sharp increase due to lowered production volumes. The problem is that I doubt the hutts would care about the aftermath enough to secure Mon Gazza from the Pyke’s potential retribution.”

“It is a conundrum then. I suspect the truth will require some investigation. In the meantime, does this organization have any specific plans or operations they want you to perform?”

“Not as yet, we just mostly negotiated my contract. It felt rather disingenuous on my part.”

Kina reached forward and patted my shoulder, somehow solidifying her projection now. “The perils of undercover work, padawan. Worry not, I think you may have just given me my calling for the immediate future, however.”

I blinked as I processed her words. “You’d stay here and…”

“The people of this planet are in pain and need help. Their future is in doubt and peril. There can be no higher calling for a Jedi, than to be here and help them throw off these shackles. Here I can also be part of your network, be your eyes and should the need arise, a blade for you. I can also work with this Gazzan Chamber. If you seek further training, you simply need to come here.”

I felt very conflicted but saw the advantages it could have. It’d keep her far away from Coruscant and while she was very recognizable, the kaminoans had re-entered the galactic scene since the start of the war. With her infiltration abilities she could only appear to people when she wanted or needed to be seen. She could become a literal boogeyman to the Pykes on this planet.

Just thinking of the shenanigans and damage an unleashed Kina Ha could do made me a bit giddy.

“Let’s speak of how we’re going to get the Twilight off the ground. You still have a senator to guard.”

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The next day I emerged from the building dressed in an outfit Ulvy had termed ‘pantoran traveling casual’. It was a royal red blouse, long pants, boots, with a poncho hood combination as outerwear, with a duffel bag of three more outfits of various utility and occasion. It was very elegantly embroidered as befitting someone acting as a senatorial aide.

I hated it.

It was the only way I wouldn’t be pegged as a togruta from a distance. Aiding my ‘stealth’ was a technique Master Ha had taught me. It was essentially what Obi-Wan in another timeline, would do to sneak around aboard the Death Star. It was the Force equivalent of a perception filter that acted in a certain radius around the user or an Alter Mind area of effect skill. It wasn’t easy at all and required concentration and constant attention on the various minds in that radius, which was why I had to carefully judge where I was walking.

Too many people and I wouldn’t be able to distort their perception enough.

The other limitation was that if I drew too much interest or if someone was searching for me too intently and had a strong mind, the effect would fail as well.

I arrived at the spot where I had parked the commandeered speeder yesterday to find nothing.

No surprise there.

I turned onto the street sidewalk and began a steady trek in the general direction of the spaceport.

It took roughly half an hour to get to the closest public transport stop that was actually being serviced by working shuttles.

I had been doing pretty well holding up the Perception Filter up until that point, but as I sat down in the crowded open top shuttle I immediately began running into problems.

Three minds were not being affected and if any of them looked directly at me, there would be nothing to stop them perceiving a hooded figure with obvious montrals hidden beneath that hood.

The first resistant mind belonged to an older twi’lek female, whose body and bearing reminded me of one of those typical grandmothers who had raised a bunch of kids and were now also helping raise her grandchildren. Ruling her brood with a velvet glove over an iron fist.

The second was a weathered, bald old man, dressed in a tank top, shorts and decent shoes. An outfit that he should’ve stopped wearing long ago. His attention was hyperfocused on a datapad that he furiously typing into with an intensity that looked like he was deep into a coding fugue.

The third was the most worrying. He didn’t have the outright look and feel of a typical street ganger that worked for the syndicate. Tall, thin, in his thirties, missing a right lower leg that had been replaced with a crude but working cyberlimb. His arms were folded across his chest, obscuring a stained shirt that bore the signs of splattered cooking oil.

His attention was not on the exterior as most passengers on public transport, but rather he was carefully looking at each of his fellow passengers in turn, with an assessing gaze.

Now why would an apparent cook be so interested?

I pushed all my perceptions to him and even gazed into prescience.

Oh, great… just my luck to run into a people watcher and what made it worse, he was actually a genuinely good natured guy. In ten seconds he would see me and decide I was the most interesting thing on the shuttle and head over to the empty seat next to me to strike up a conversation. I just wanted to get to the spaceport without leaving a trail in anyone’s memory!

Was that so much to ask?

Sure enough, his eyes alighted on me and I felt his mind perk with interest.

I really hated having to do this.

Just as he made his first step, my TK grabbed a hold of his artificial leg.

At that moment, his legs were tangled up and he face planted in a rather embarrassing way. The whole shuttle’s attention was diverted and I pretended to also be startled at the event. A number of people laughed, girls giggled and a few men closest helped the cook back to his feet.

I was already on my feet as that happened and walking to the rear of the shuttle, standing by the rear doors as if I wanted to get off at the next stop.

Thankfully, that had worked. The embarrassed cook thanked his helpers and returned to his original seat after he saw me waiting at the door.

The shuttle stopped and I disembarked, resolving to make the rest of the journey on foot where I could better manage the attention being paid to me.

When I was a mere street away from the spaceport, I turned off into an alley.

It was about as pleasant as a gamorrean’s backside; garbage skips overfilled with junk and rotting food from a nearby restaurant. The unpleasantness meant no one liked to be back here or even look at it and so I was relatively assured of some privacy.

Master Ha had given me a memory of her own journey through the spaceport and in so doing gave me a number of routes to use for infiltrating the place.

Naturally, the Pykes knew that Captain Mizal with her very deadly ship would want to get it back. So they had come out in force to turn the spaceport into Pyke central. Checking every person that went in and out thoroughly, searching through cargo vigorously. The various spice smugglers, most of whom were very nasty characters, were not taking the delays this incurred well. Tempers around the spaceport were very short and the entire place was a simmering pot of anger and resentment that was just waiting for the right event to make it all boil over.

I pushed my Farsight forward and reviewed the current state of the route I would have to take.

It wasn’t bad, but could be better.

I mentally reviewed my own actions and the contingencies I had worked out with Master Ha.

For being a super tall kaminoan, she could probably write a thousand page manual on infiltration for a Jedi and still not come close to truly covering the subject properly. She made Anakin and I’s efforts thus far in the war look rather amateurish in comparison.

Satisfied, I walked with just the right tempo of casualness out of the alley and straight for the checkpoint of three very bored Pyke gangers who were attending to the line of people trying to enter the spaceport.

I entered the queue and waited patiently.

They were doing a general visual search, pulling off the hoods of people if they were dressed as such and even using a hand sized scanner to look for weapon signatures. Almost everyone carried some form of blaster in the city, so that scanner was getting a workout.

When there were only five people ahead of me in the queue I pulled out a comlink and initiated a call.

It picked up after about five seconds and the small holo of the dockmaster appeared.

“Yes, hello?”

I didn’t answer, as I was too busy getting a mental picture of his office and who was with him.

He was alone.

“Hello? Who is this? How- how- did you…”

He slumped out of his own comlink’s pickup range, completely asleep.

I put away the link and looked up to my right, searching the street-facing side of the spaceport building.

Then found the two very bored minds overlooking the street, a sniper and his spotter.

It was a cakewalk to put Force Sleep on both.

The line moved on and the conversation of the three syndicate goons made me perk my montrals.

“How long are we doing this?” moaned goon number one.

“As long as we’re told to, idiot,” retorted goon two in irritation.

Goon three, who truly looked like he was an actual bouncer for a club somewhere on the planet, just grunted in annoyance that they were bickering.

“Have you heard what they’re calling her?” asked goon one.

“Probably something stupid.”

“Nope, it’s actually pretty catchy, ‘The Naked Gun’.”

Goon two looked at his partner incredulously, “Seriously? That’s the best they can come up with?”

“Hey, it’s wizard.”

“Uh-huh, for mindless simpletons it is. I’d rather go with ‘The Togrutan Quick Gun’ or ‘Sly Eye’”

“That’s dumb, it totally doesn’t mention her most striking feature!”

It was at this point that I wished a hole would open up beneath me. The queue moved on and they continued this conversation arguing about what would be the best nickname for my undercover identity.

Finally it was my turn.

“Hood down,” goon two ordered.

“All three of you don’t need to see that.”

“We don’t need to see that,” they chorused.

“Your scanner picked up no weapons.”

“My scanner found no weapons,” said goon one, waving his scanner at me.

“I can enter.”

“You can enter.”

I walked forward and with a few more steps was in the spaceport building.

In here, there were even more syndicate goons, as they clearly did not have much confidence that a mere checkpoint would be enough to discourage Captain Abehla ‘The Naked Gun’ Mizal.

I kept walking forward with casual confidence and slipped through the large entrance/exit lobby, using various people as moving cover to avoid the gazes and sightlines of the goons milling to and fro through the crowd.

I managed to fall in with a rather rough grouping of people heading down the adjoining corridor in the direction of my ship. Most were spice smugglers; they were armed with pistols, but some even carried rifles slung on their backs and they were very unhappy.

“This is ridiculous. I have clients that I’ll have to give discounts to because of these delays! And all because these Pykies can’t even kill some dancer and got their teeth kicked in by a togruta who doesn’t even have fully grown horns yet!”

It’s not horns you numbskull, I thought angrily.

Thankfully, my route needed me to break away from them and I turned into another corridor.

Here I had to short circuit a few visual sensors with the Force. It wouldn’t do to get caught on camera, even though the dockmaster was in la-la land, their computer was recording and I couldn’t take the chance that the Pykes had set up remote taps to feed back to their local HQs.

I crossed a corridor and had to pause in a doorway with my Perception Filter up to let a pair of goons walk on by.

The closer I got to Bay 93, the less people there were, but I didn’t let that phase me and continued on.

I turned into the corridor that held the access door to the bay.

Facing me were eight syndicate members of various races. Two were manning a Repeater blaster on a tripod, whilst the other six all had a variety of nasty weapons, including a disruptor rifle.

If I was here as a Jedi I would either rip all their weapons out of their hands, throw a blanket Force Sleep and go to town on them with my lightsabers.

I was Captain Mizal at this moment, and while I could get away with a subtle Force Sleep here and there. This was different.

Luckily for me, Bay 93 was not the last one attached to this corridor. To get to 94 through 97, you also had to use this route. Therefore this wasn’t a full on barricade, they had to let people through, so there was a gap and most of the goons were leaning against the walls.

I kept walking and my approach did serve to somewhat rouse them from boredom.

I fell under their critical gazes and I was hard pressed to keep my Alteration in their minds. I had to go bare bones on the illusion, and to their eyes, my hood was casting a deep shadow that obscured my features, even though the lighting in the corridor didn’t really match. It was deeply odd to them, and as a result was very unnerving.

Nevertheless, I managed to keep doubt in their minds long enough that I walked past the Repeater and the goon with the disruptor.

Showtime.

I closed my eyes and from my duffle bag two flash grenades dropped.

Thank you Jaol.

Two muted thumps and a sizzling sound heralded the goons being blinded by seven megacandela of light.

They screamed and clawed at their eyes, flailing and in some cases even dropping their weapons.

My WESTARs were drawn and I fired left and right simultaneously, adjusted my aim, then fired four times, walking my fire over them.

I calmly walked to the doors and a brief test of the keypad showed they were locked shut.

I reached into the duffle and slapped a directional charge, set the timer for three seconds and stook a step back. I formed a TK shield around my head to stop the concussion from hitting my montrals in a nasty fashion.

The door blasted into pieces, the old and poor quality steel not up to resisting a modern explosive.

I pulled down my hood and entered the bay.

The Twilight’s anti-personnel turrets swung immediately to target me but didn’t fire.

A few moments later they swung away and instead began blasting into a number of overhead windows as the Pykes began reacting to my presence.

The walk to the embarkation ramp of the Twilight as it opened for me felt much longer than it should be.

I hated showboating and valued efficiency, but I needed to establish a rep for Captain Mizal.

My left WESTAR came up and I fired twice into a window that nailed a twi’lek goon that had tried to bring a grenade launcher to bear.

They were trying to overwhelm the Twilight’s defense by flooding it with multiple targets, then trying to get a shot off at me.

Marginally clever. The problem was that it was technically a full droid level intelligence that managed the security systems. It could prioritize and only fired when it had a true shot.

I walked up the ramp and closed it behind me.

Now that I was out of sight, I used a full burst of speed to rush into the cockpit and begin the emergency startup sequence.

The bay doors above me were still closed.

Time to rectify that.

I tapped my comlink, “Master Ha?”

The thick doors whined on old motivator motors and split apart into four pieces, exposing the sky above.

I keyed up the Twilight’s embedded droid intelligence, “Twilight, raise shields, destroy the tractor emitters.”

“Affirmative, captain.”

The main anti-fighter guns swiveled on their mounts and decisively fired four times in rapid succession, traversing to each tractor emitter in the bay. Muted explosions rumbled through the bay as the emitters shattered, releasing their energy in an uncontrolled fashion. Twilight’s shields didn’t even blip resisting it.

“Tractor systems destroyed, captain.”

“Thank you.”

I pulled on the yoke and throttle.

The Twilight rose out of the bay and into the sky.

I did a quick scan for any sign of those Firesprays and found only open sky.

“Master Ha, thank you. I have a clear ascent.”

I pushed forward on the throttle and rocketed into the air, rapidly gaining altitude.

“You’re welcome, padawan. The pilots of the Firesprays are enjoying a rather long rest. You should have no further problems. Don’t delay, they might scramble more from other parts of the planet.”

“I won’t, master.”

“I’ll be in touch soon, padawan. Good luck. May the Force be with you.”

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The Force Wills - Chapter 49

I sat at a table in a small kitchenette, watching Kina Ha bustling around the place, reaching into cabinets, gathering all manner of ingredients and speaking aloud to herself as she worked. It was a clear coping mechanism she had developed to deal with her solitude .

Her place was a small apartment just down the hall from the moon pool.

The abbreviated tour she took me on showed a well lived in, almost cozy place. Starkly at odds with the sterile atmosphere the majority of kaminoans lived in. It had various items on the shelves that were both ancient and more recent. Quite a few of which I recognized. She actually had an old personal cloaking device and shield from the Old Republic era! Unfortunately, a brief probe of technometry told me that the both were just fancy non-functional relics. Time had not been kind to the inner workings. Those old shields were wet paper bags to modern blasters and the stygian crystal in the cloak had long since burnt itself out from use.

Her small living room had a woven meditation mat sitting in front of an expansive window, looking out into the dark abyss of the ocean outside. Just the idea of meditating in front of that view made me internally shudder. There was also a 200 year old holovid projector, which had a neatly organized case of data chits beside it. The floor was bedecked with a patchwork of carpets that had origins from many worlds - one of which I recognized was an ancient Nubian quilt and other decorative items that definitely came from Mandalore as well.

“Water, padawan?”

Kina put down a long glass in front of me.

I debated for a while, even tapping a bit of prescience. I could use my helmet’s emergency induction port to drink, but was it safe to take off the helmet to drink and eat here? The future didn’t seem to indicate me getting sick, but I was still worried about Kina.

“Really young one, stop prodding the future and take that helmet off, if I was going to get sick from something, best it happen and get it over with,” she scoffed.

I shrugged and buried my surprise that she could even sense my prescience actively. I broke the seal of the helmet and lifted it off, freeing my lekku and montrals from their sheaths and pushing them back to a more natural arrangement.

“Doesn’t that feel better? It’s a wonder you can stand being cooped up like that,” she asked, her big black eyes did quite well in expressing her emotion and intent.

“Of course it does, master.”

“And don’t worry your lekku about the food, I’d be a poor host if I fed you something unfriendly to a togruta stomach.”

I put my helmet down and took a sip of the water. Very fresh and cool, with a subtle hint of the natural minerals in there. She obviously had a working desalinator down here.

“So you use Force stealth to return to the surface for parts when things break down?”

Kina openly smiled and nodded. It was such an alien expression to see on a kaminoan. In the Force, she was… warm, welcoming. It was like being out in the sun on a cold winter day.

“I generally make a trip every hundred years to the surface. As much as I’m mostly self-sufficient down here, there are some things that I can’t smith or make by myself in the machine shop. For food, there’s an indoor greenhouse and I take the sub up to hunt at around the 300 meter level.”

That a kaminoan was capable of unassisted 300 meter diving was rather incredible. That was about the deepest non-aquatic species could go with scuba gear. Even aquatic species like the Mon Calamari, kept their settlements and cities around the 200 meter mark. They could go deeper, but given their activities in space and on the surface with land dwellers, sheer practicality meant they kept things shallow.

She kept the small talk going as she continued to prepare the dish.

“So what sports do you follow, youngling?”

“Pod racing mostly, master.”

“Ah, then you have a fellow aficionado in me. My holonet receiver is quite old and it's difficult to stay informed about the galaxy. Of course, I prefer it that way. I let a holovid download every week or so.”

“How up to date are you about…”

She held up her long hand gracefully. “I know my kind has grown an army again for the Republic. Let’s not talk about unpleasant things so quickly, dear.”

She placed the dish of food directly into a cooker appliance, tapped a few buttons and it hummed to life. A mere two minutes later it was done and she served it to me. It was a mostly meaty dish of seafood, mixed with a few aquatic plants. I was very tempted to run a probability line to test whether it would agree with me, but stopped myself.

I grabbed the offered utensils and began eating without hesitation.

Kina smiled and patted me on the shoulder. Yup, that had been a test.

She walked past me and took a seat on a long backed reclining chair that definitely had a ‘home made’ feel to it.

The food was good. No, it wasn’t just good. It was bloody excellent. It melted in my mouth and hit every note of flavor. For so long, since the start of the war, I’d been on the military gruel that was served on the Resolute and even though I’d managed to improve it somewhat over time by stopping for fresh ingredients, the chefs just didn’t have culinary experience working to the level you’d expect from those who worked in it professionally. Most chefs who worked on the Resolute were also troopers themselves who saw frontline action.

Kina evidently had a considerable amount of time during her hermitage to perfect a lot of skills. I’d yank her off this planet to serve in the Resolute’s kitchen in a heartbeat. It was a stupid thought, but my taste buds were in heaven.

“So where do they race these days?”

“Malastare, Tatooine, Coruscant, Oovo IV, Baroonda, Ando Prime, Ord Ibanna, Mon Gazza,” I recited the list.

“Only eight worlds?”

“Some have multiple tracks, the circuit is 21 races in a standard year.”

Kina nodded regally, “Suppose the cost of hyper travel in this era forced this somewhat.”

“The racing calendar has already been shortened because of the war. Malastare was hit with an invasion, so their races won’t be held this year.”

“Didn’t happen in my day, those races kept going… even under the Eternal Empire.”

I blinked in astonishment. My vision and my senses had given me some ballpark estimate for her age, but for her to be around then…

“You were alive during Revan’s time?”

“He was active during my third century of life. I never saw him personally or talked to him. I was too busy traveling the galaxy and avoiding his Sith wannabes, though I had to dispatch a few to become one with the Force when they become too annoying,” she sniffed in disdain.

“Did you fight in the Cold War after or against the Eternal Empire?”

“I fought against Vitiate and his lackeys. My contribution was one blade in an army of many. I claim no special feats or significant victories. It is in the past, where it belongs.”

I nodded and continued eating, my mind whirling and struggling to find a solid footing. There was no way I was going to fangirl or ask stupid questions. There was one question though, that was burning in me.

“Why are you here, master?”

Kina Ha put her hands together in an almost praying gesture, “It’s not really a topic for conversation over a meal, Padawan Tano. I sense it will inevitably lead to something that will spoil your appetite. There is no urgency here.”

I let out a breath and nodded, just… continuing to eat.

In the fast pace of the war and everything that went with it, had I forgotten the simple lesson of patience?

“Though I do have a most grave question for you,” she continued, speaking in a very foreboding voice. “Are you a fan of bolo-ball?”

I inwardly winced, “I’m rather ambivalent about that sport. I’ll watch it, but it’s never really appealed to me.”

Bolo-ball or limmie, depending on what planet you were on, was the Corusca Galaxy version of association football i.e. soccer, with the twist that full body tackles were allowed. It was also highly popular on Mandalore and numerous other worlds throughout the galaxy, but not on Coruscant - though the planet did have a team in the Galactic Cup. The strongest team with the most rabid fans were from Fwillsving - who left their capital city almost in ruins due to the enthusiasm of their celebrations after they won the Cup.

Kina frowned at me and I sensed a slight hint of anger. It almost made me want to disappear into the floor, such was its strength.

Then her mood swung a full 180 and she gave a big smile, “Good, you stand up for yourself, even in the face of a three thousand year old Jedi Master.”

“Uh, shouldn’t that be 3900 years old, master?”

“I’ve long since given up keeping an accurate tally of the years, padawan. Since when does a padawan question or correct a master? What does that young grszhrufft teach you on Coruscant these days?”

I had no idea what word she used there, nor was it any language I knew. She was also yanking on my chain and clearly enjoying it.

I finished the last bite of my meal and put my utensils into the proper position to signal I was done.

“Did you enjoy the meal, padawan?” Kina asked pointedly.

“Master, should you desire to open a restaurant, I will be your most avid customer.”

“Interesting idea, padawan. I’m afraid it would have to be specialized to aquatic foods though,” she grinned. “Now that you have a full belly, I suppose I should answer your question. Why am I here? The impetus was the same as what led you to me. A vision from the Force. It struck me while I had briefly been living on Vorusku. It spoke to me of my people creating an army of countless soldiers of the Dark Side. At the time, our proficiency in cloning was far from well known, we were very careful to pick our customers, research them and offer the service. If they refused, measures were taken to erase their memories. We knew all too well the power we offered to potential clients, the long term ramifications of it. The Sith were a known factor in those days and we would never do business with them - too unstable and just as likely to stab you in the back after they had gotten their clone army. The vision indicated that something had gone very wrong.

“I rushed back here with all speed, only to find there was no such army. At best we had just produced a few small clone divisions to supplement a number of PDF armies for what was the Mid-Rim back then. It was clear that my vision had been of the future and so I determined I would have to stand vigil over Kamino and wait. Keeping an eye on every customer and clone army my people made.”

“And in three thousand plus years, nothing matched your vision or seemed odd?” I asked in amazement.

“No.”

“Nothing about this clone army, with the Republic as a customer, stood out to you?”

“No,” she said, tenting her fingers again. “However, your presence, sent so clearly via a vision from the Force, to interrupt my vigil means something is wrong. I must have missed something about this one.” Kina closed her eyes and I felt the Force congeal. It was the only word I had to describe it. “That the Republic is a customer is not a surprise to me, after they so foolishly disbanded the Army of Light. Anyone with a hint of common sense and foresight could determine that one day, a challenge would emerge to the status quo. It is not in the nature of the universe and life to endure a period of stagnation as the last five hundred years has shown. It did surprise me that a Jedi Master was the one to initiate the contract for the clones.”

I jumped on that thread, “And what did you sense about the second Jedi Master who followed him?”

Kina Ha opened her eyes and gazed at me. It felt for the briefest of moments like I was the smallest molecule under a microscope.

“He was older, more experienced. He wore loss on his shoulders like a heavy cloak, a weary heart, jaded… oh.” She placed her hands on her lap and stared out towards her living room. Her emotional control was superb, yet through the Force and this close I could tell she was in the grip of extreme anger towards herself. I placed myself in her shoes, thousands of years of vigil, only to be fooled at the last possible moment. All that time… for seemingly nothing, wasted. “A remarkable talent,” she said at last.

“Count Dooku of Serenno, also known as Darth Tyranus, current leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Former Jedi Master who also sat on the High Council. Taken as an apprentice by the current Sith Lord of the Banite Line, Darth Sidious.”

Kina turned to me, her eyes burning with intent. “I have added my shielding and obfuscation to your own. Speak, Padawan.”

I nodded and obeyed.

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Kina Ha listened patiently and didn’t interrupt me as I spoke of… almost everything.

The history of the Banite Sith.

Palpatine, which segued into a discussion of recent history of the last fifty years in the galaxy.

How the galaxy was carefully orchestrated into the current conflict.

The rise of the Trade Federation and its prominence in galactic affairs.

The CIS.

The current political dance in the Senate and how the Jedi fit into it.

The Grand Army.

The biochip and all the Orders programmed into it.

The weakness of the Jedi, the Shroud, Sidious’ foresight.

Anakin, the Prophecy.

It was a relief to unburden myself fully like this. To someone who not only would listen but could do so without fear of having fucking Sidious waiting in the wings with an assassin or a plot to twist it into his own advantage.

After hours of speaking, I ran out of steam.

Master Kina stood from her seat and offered me another glass of water, which I gulped down greedily.

“It’s wrong,” she said at last, putting a large comforting hand on my back. “Everything about this situation, the state of the galaxy, the Jedi, the Force itself. How could I’ve been so blind to it?”

“It’s because the Force itself has been ‘attacked’,” I explained. “I only have theories, but it was something that Plagueis did.”

“Immortality, the old goal, always with them it’s the same story,” Kina scoffed, she walked towards her chair and dumped herself in it with a huff. “So selfish, so desperate to cling to the flesh and this plane of existence.”

“The difference is that in the old days it was ritual and power, Plagueis was a man of science and he succeeded in creating life from the Force.”

“You have post-cognition as well?” she asked in astonishment.

“No, I draw from the future probabilities,” I explained wearily.

“Much is explained, so you see futures where these truths and facts are revealed. It leaves you paths to draw backward and investigate.”

“That’s one way to look at it, Master.”

“Fascinating,” she said and folded her hands on her stomach. “My own foresight is of the more traditional kind, you could say. Yet it seems I can not rely on it now because of Sidious’s meddling.”

“The further you stay away from Coruscant, the more reliable it is. Even my unique expression of foresight is limited to a day when I’m physically there.”

“Well, that nicely rules out me emerging from my obscurity. Can you see what would happen if I walked openly into the Jedi Temple?”

I winced as the future probability line crashed into me with the force of a star destroyer.

“A steady stream of assassination attempts, eventually a bomb causes a mass casualty event at the Temple. You leave and are continually hounded by bounty hunters, whom you kill. Dooku eventually approaches the chief dathomirian witch, who the Banite Sith have a tentative cooperative alliance with. The Nightsisters empower a male with their rituals, granting him overwhelming strength in the Force. This nightbrother, in combination with other orchestrated attacks and deceptions, result in you sacrificing your life to save an entire colony of settlers and a number of Jedi.”

It was so frustrating. In the end, that even a Jedi as powerful as Kina Ha, would be just a blip against Palpatine’s plans, if that path was taken.

“Well, that sounds about right and exactly how I would choose to die. Jedi are guardians at the gate, who defend life no matter the cost,” she said with zealous conviction that rang with truth. “How long do you have before you must return?”

“The Resolute will be combat ready in four days.”

“I need to think about all this, meditate, do some of my own travels into the Force. It’s clear to me that we can’t rely entirely on its guidance alone anymore. If this Sith Lord has done what I think he has done, then there are aspects to this that go over your head, padawan. I doubt even Yoda has the knowledge to understand. Much has been lost. Return to your master. Whatever happens I will find you in two days aboard your ship.”

I stood and formally bowed to her, “Thank you, Master Ha.”

She laughed, “Don’t thank me yet, Padawan Tano. Thank me, when this Sidious is destroyed down to his very essence.”

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“Hmmm, opportunity, great this is,” Holo-Yoda declared on his holocron perch.

“I don’t know, Master. As old and powerful as she seems, it doesn’t seem as if she can make much real difference against the enemy,” Anakin pointed out.

“Don’t put too much stock in my prescience, master. It’s but one path that can happen.”

“Yes, the future is in motion, but since we can’t fight him conventionally at the moment, it doesn’t matter if she could physically defeat him.”

“Knowledge she brings, Skywalker. That which was lost, can be found. Opens new paths and possibilities.”

“There is that, I suppose,” he admitted.

“Whatever she decides, she won’t be staying on Kamino, that at least we can be mostly certain of,” I said, almost all of the probability lines pointed in that direction.

Anakin chirping comlink interrupted any further discussion.

Holo-Yoda vanished and I grabbed the holocron to put it in its dedicated hiding place, a small smuggling style compartment Anakin had built directly into the side of the screen of my desk terminal.

That done, he tapped his vambrace. A small holo of a clone naval officer appeared on his forearm. “General Skywalker, incoming holo from the Council for you.”

“Put them through.”

Mace Windu’s holo replaced the clone.

“Skywalker,” he greeted with a shallow bow of the head. “There’s been a development. The Trade Federation has blockaded Pantora.”

“This song and dance again?” he asked in exasperation.

“Indeed. They claim that the level of unpaid debt that the Pantorans have, has reached unacceptable levels.”

“Which it naturally has not, they just unilaterally decided to change the limit especially for the Pantorans,” I sighed in exasperation.

“Dooku has publicly offered the CIS’s assistance in breaking the blockade, should the Pantorans join them.”

“You know, one day, I’d actually like to see this tactic play out, the supposedly neutral Trade Federation fighting against the CIS over a world.” I could help but giggle at the ridiculous scenario.

Windu gave me a steely eyed look. “I don’t have to remind you of the balancing act the Republic has to play with the Trade Federation, padawan. A significant portion of the Republic economy depends on them and their thinly veiled neutrality.”

“Master, do you have an assignment for us?” Anakin said quickly, not so smoothly keeping the conversation to the point.

“The entire situation has taken on another dynamic,” Mace continued neutrally.  “The new pantoran leader, Chairman Papanoida, accompanied their senator to Coruscant to help prevent the blockade from being legitimized. That debate is currently ongoing. However, two days ago, bounty hunters kidnapped the chairman’s daughters. The local CPF are investigating as it is technically their jurisdiction.” Only a Jedi could really perceive the de-facto deputy grandmaster’s opinion on the matter. “Senator Chuchi was unsatisfied with their progress and doubted the competence of the CPF investigator assigned to the case.”

“She went on her own hunt for the criminals then, even though she knew they were undoubtedly backed by the Separatists,” Anakin deduced.

“Correct, she took a diplomatic frigate yesterday and is on her way to the blockade. We have also learned that Papanoida is also unofficially pursuing the case. Just a few hours ago, he and his son left Coruscant, bound for Tatooine. Jedi Slicers monitored a DNA sample request from the chairman, which identified a bounty hunter called Greedo, who is known to be a common sight among Jabba’s retinue.

“This assignment is going to be unofficial and undercover. Padawan Tano, we are sending you an encrypted flight plan, this should allow you to intercept Senator Chuchi’s transport. You are to escort and protect her, posing as an aide. Knight Skywalker, you need to cover for your padawan’s absence. Create an alibi that will withstand any investigative scrutiny.”

“Understood, Master,” Anakin nodded.

“Force be with you both.”

The holo faded.

“Ten credits says that I need to leave immediately,” I openly scowled.

“Not taking that bet,” he retorted, tapping on his comlink, which brought up a 3D hyper map, which traced a course all the way from Coruscant to Pantora. He ran a few projections. “Yes, based on this if you leave within the hour, you can meet the senator at New Cov on the Correlian Run, then a three day trip to Pantora.”

“Which ship am I using, master?”

“The Twilight, it’s fast and I’ve since installed a variable transponder. As long as you keep your intercept in deep space and away from any commonly used hyper points, there should be no problems.”

“Should I also ask just how you’re going to create the illusion of me remaining on board, not only to the entire crew, but to the ship’s computer system?” I arched my left brow at him.

“You could ask, but you’d be wasting precious time, Snips.”

I threw my hands up, “Fine, I get the hint. I’ll get packing. Just what are you going to tell Master Ha though? Not to mention the Blades?”

“The truth, now go, shoo. You have your first senatorial bodyguard duty to get to.”

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Despite his evasion of telling me how he was going to create my alibi, it was pretty easy to guess. I had left the ship without informing him, so a ready excuse to ‘punish’ me was there. This would involve confinement to quarters and being assigned hours of meditation practice. The next clue came when he grabbed my full set of Aegis armor, then had me walk around and move under the eye of a handheld scanner. Then of course, to sell it completely, I had to leave behind all three of my lightsabers. Thankfully the ‘ownership’ of the Darksaber couldn’t be so easily broken and I wasn’t ‘giving’ it to Anakin for him to use in a martial sense.

There was also no choice but to inform Ursa Wren of the undercover assignment and she was naturally not happy at all. I did not have to pull rank as her Manda’lor to get her cooperation, but at the very least she insisted that I carry a pair of spare WESTAR-34s if I was going to leave my blades behind.

Then there was the question of my outfit. I would have to initially use my hapan clothes on the outward journey and make a quick stop along the way to find clothes that would fit my coming role. Mon Gazza seemed a promising place to conduct a few trades and as it was a shadowport run by the Pyke Syndicate there would be no records kept of a G9 Rigger small freighter coming in for a landing.

Then there was the issue of simply getting to the Twilight unseen. This was accomplished using the simplest method possible. Anakin turned off the surveillance sensors in a manner that seemed like it was malfunctioning. Then it was just a matter of using my own infiltration abilities. I could also use minor Alter Mind tricks on the clones to divert attention or give them ‘Oh I forgot to do something important’ feelings.

The excuse for the Twilight being launched on autopilot in the direction of the Corellian Run was that Anakin wanted a few upgrades that had to be installed by dry docking the ship on Corellia.

So it was that after about one hour and ten minutes of frantic prep, I was seated in the pilot seat on the Twilight and it dove into hyper, bound for Rishi, which linked to the Manda Merchant Hyper Route.

I couldn’t help but feel a little naked without my sabers, despite the weight of the blasters on my hips.

There was also the looming chore that I was going to have to accomplish during the two day trip to Mon Gazza. I was going to have to come up with a new facial and lekku pattern and apply it. My togruta cosmetic kit had all the tools and supplies, it was just a pain in the ass to use. Adjusting the natural pattern you were born with was something that a lot of affluent city togruta did on the daily, as they came up with all manner of weird designs, hoping it would catch on as trends. Such frivolity and attention to looks was of vanity, of the flesh, so I didn’t bother beyond keeping my skin moisturized and healthy.

“Stop procrastinating, Ahsoka,” I said to myself as I stared into the infinitely long hyperspace tunnel.

I pulled myself out of the pilot chair and headed into the small captain’s cabin just aft of the cockpit. Then walked out with a small case into the Twilight’s WC.

My reflection in the mirror regarded me and I pondered the various options. I definitely didn’t want to go overboard. I could just change the color of the rings around my lekku to a different shade of purple. Maybe add a few thinner rings in between. Use a bit of makeup to just hide the marks on my cheeks to form a diamond. Then create extra white diamonds on my forehead. Those changes would at least let me skip using the cosmetic laser and only needed the ink hypo.

That took about twenty minutes of fiddling with the various applicators until I was happy enough with the results. The final look was nothing to write home about and I’m sure the Shili cityfolk would laugh at my lack of originality.

I returned to the captain’s cabin and pondered my clothing situation. It was such a stupid thing to be caught short on. Even my non-hapan clothing didn’t really fit with the conservative pantoran mindset. How I wish things could’ve been so simple as to just wear a hooded cloak or poncho. Going incognito just didn’t work that way. I had to appear to be a pantoran senatorial aide that was traveling with the senator. It was not guaranteed that Senator Chuchi had any clothing in my size, even though we were roughly the same height. Resolute’s stores only had materials that were useful in making naval uniforms and there had been no time to even steal an outfit or modify it.

So for the moment, I had to be content with a black tech crew overall that I used when either Anakin or I were tinkering with our fighters. It had quite a bit of visible wear, tear and persistent stains so I wouldn’t come off as ‘dressing up’. Combined with my gun belt and utility harness, I looked a bit ridiculous, but at least I didn’t look like Ahsoka Tano anymore.

Now I was Abehla Mizal, pilot of the light freighter Shili Siren, just plying my trade along the Manda Route heading back towards the Corellian Run.

I headed back into the cockpit and blinked at what my senses were telling me. Then did a thorough internal check via the Force.

Yes, I was seeing what I was seeing and there was no external illusion being woven by some dathomirian witch.

I released a fortifying breath, headed for the co-pilot seat, dumped myself in it and turned to my unexpected passenger.

“Greetings Master Ha,” I said with a bow of my head.

The tall kaminoan merely smiled and acknowledged me with a nod. “Greetings padawan, don’t mind me, just familiarizing myself with the controls, it’s been a while. Good emotional control by the way, I’ve managed to get full blown screams of terror from knights back in my day.”

I didn’t do the impolite thing, such as throw my senses and mental probes her way, but passively, everything reported that Kina Ha was actually sitting in the pilot seat. She was also neatly hiding her prodigious strength in the Force as well.

Her outfit was also interesting. Blue pants and boots, with a brown tunic, over which was a hardened leather outfit that framed her upper chest. The tunic also included a flexing collar which completely covered her thin neck all the way to her chin. It was distinctly at odds with every modern kaminoan fashion I’d seen, which always left their long, thin necks uncovered. The final touch was a leather helmet/hat combo which had goggles for her large eyes.

“Would it be pointless to ask just how you got here, master?”

“Certainly, as you already know the answer, you’re just looking for confirmation.”

Yes, a Jedi veteran of the Sith Cold War and the War of Liberation against the Eternal Empire would clearly know a thing or two about the Jedi Shadow’s arts of stealth.

“I take it your decision was reached faster than you had anticipated?”

“Yes, as you can imagine, I am not someone accustomed to reaching a decision quickly. Time is something I’ve always had in abundant supply. Yet to my surprise, after barely hours of meditation, I realized that I couldn’t stand the thought of spending another day in my hermitage. The Force sent you to deliver the kick in the neck I sorely needed.”

“So what are you aiming to do, master? I realize I’m just a padawan playing at being a spymaster-”

She raised her hand gracefully to interrupt me. “I am not going to take the reins of your efforts, padawan. You began it, it’s your network, your leadership is what it answers to. I will merely add myself to it, advise you and train you as needed. The Banite Sith requires not the blade of the past. It is up to the Jedi of this era to stand and defeat them.”

I hated that weight, that burden, yet I had chosen to take it up. “Master, from a certain point of view, we have already been defeated.”

“Just because that selfish maniac sits in the chancellor’s seat does not equal defeat,” Kina said firmly. “There have been many occasions where the Jedi have been at odds with the person occupying that position.”

“Yes master, but they were not outright Sith.”

“That is a new twist, I agree. Yet, for the moment, Palpatine is forced to act in the bounds of his fair persona. The wheels of democracy are still turning and they can be made to turn against him with the correct application of politics and the occasional dagger in the night. The challenge is simply to find the correct tool at the correct time. We must strain his foresight to the limit. Narrow his choices until they are as a giant wave suddenly bearing down upon him, that no amount of maneuvering will let him avoid.”

“It sounds so easy when you say it like that, master.”

“Nothing about this fight in the shadows will be easy, padawan. Now, tell me, what can this old master teach you?”

That was a no-brainer and I answered instantly.

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As with most things that seem extraordinarily complicated at first glance, the principles of Force Stealth and remaining unseen from all eyes, organic and technological, was deceptively simple yet the actual execution was the biggest hurdle.

It was the realization and internalization that light itself was electromagnetic radiation. Just as a Force user could go through the process using the skills of Alter on the environment, to throw massed electrons in the form of lightning, so could you exert your will on the radiation bouncing off you. Sight was that narrow frequency strip of radiation hitting your eyes and being interpreted by the brain.

Force Stealth, was learning to influence the various bands of EM radiation by applying telekinesis to bend it around you. This naturally made you blind, but loss of the sense of sight was no impediment to any Jedi from a very young age.

Learning to apply telekinesis on such a small scale was a process that was going to require a long period of ‘letting go’ of what I thought I knew on a deep subconscious level. It was equivalent to reaching a new step on the journey to nirvana, so to speak. As such, there was no timetable I could reach for and say, ‘Yes, I’ll have it done in a year.’ It could happen tomorrow or might not happen at all in my entire life. I could be toiling away at it until I made the final journey.

Prescience was of no help either as all I found was a wild slew of probabilities in a dizzying fractal collage that told me I’d be spending one day to fifty years trying to master this.

“It’s the reason that Jedi Shadows were so relatively rare, even at the height of the Old Republic,” Master Ha explained. “From what you’ve explained, it seems like the few Shadows remaining today may have lost the art.”

In this way, two days of tutelage and instruction passed and the Twilight emerged from hyper at the primary Mon Gazza emergence point.

From space it didn’t look pleasant at all. A world of rusty orange and stippled with banks of swirling white clouds. A world of stark contrast between towering mountain ranges and endless flat plains, desserts that looked like some celestial had found inspiration by studying Tatooine and lush bounds of forest.

The world was known for two things; spice mining that was just below Kessel in terms of annual production and pod racing.

Just from sensing the planet in orbit, I was questioning my decision to come here. The population down there was not a happy one. Not surprising when the Pyke Syndicate was running things behind the scenes. Yet there was, according to the Holonet, a tailor that made good enough business down there to not only remain open for more than fifty years, but even advertised to potential customers up and down the Corellian Run. The Pykes were also a fan of luxury goods, being dressed to impress was something they’d want as well.

Mon Gazza itself benefited by sitting on a hyperspace crossroads, with the Corellian Run going straight through it, whilst north-eastern and south-western routes gave access to major sectors of the Outer Rim.

All things being equal, the system should’ve been a flourishing waypoint and port of call for refueling and a final stop for those bound to the Outer Rim in this part of the galaxy. The discovery of spice ruined it and the drug lords of the galaxy, eager to access spice in mass quantities that didn’t require enduring the perilous Kessel Run, practically invaded the planet.

Now the urban centers bore only the stench of decay and poor maintenance. No space traffic control challenged me on the radio as I deorbited and headed directly for the space port.

It was clear, as I gave a brief look at the Twilight’s sensors, that the ships coming and going were either smugglers for spice or those unlucky enough to require a refuel before heading onward. You could almost see the reluctance to land in the way these ships flew.

It was only as I neared the de facto capital city of Mon Gazza and the spaceport itself that radio finally came alive.

“Shili Siren, you have been designated to land in Bay 93,” said the robotic monotone of a droid. “Remain in holding pattern 31 Tau for five minutes before attempting to approach.”

“Understood, Mon Gazza,” I replied.

“That was rather quick service considering the level of traffic,” Master Ha commented.

“We can thank the model of ship we’re flying. The G9 Rigger class is an ideal spice smuggler. Master Skywalker made sure his modifications wouldn’t impact the Twilight’s appearance. Even to cursory scans we looked like an over-engined speed monster, at least until we power up our guns and military grade ECM.”

The reason for our minor delay became apparent on our final approach. The ship that had been occupying 93 was being evicted forcefully, with a combination of groundside based tractor beams and two nasty looking Firespray patrol craft.

The hapless ship in question, a blocky light freighter that didn’t even appear in the Twilight’s shipbook; meaning it was an ‘ugly’ or unconventional model someone had built out of the parts of other ships, was steadily carried off into the distance.

I could sense a single occupant, who was radiating despair and anger.

Then the freighter was let go.

Its engines flared to keep its altitude.

The Firesprays opened fire.

There was a brief scream in the Force and I felt the death of the freighter pilot moments before the plains outside the city were lit by an exploding fireball and pelted with falling debris.

I had to let go of the anger I was experiencing from watching that, then triggered the landing struts, before settling the Twilight down in the bay. We hadn’t even landed and Mon Gazza was already showing its harsh, unforgiving colors.

“Padawan, remember, you are not a Jedi here,” Kina Ha captured my eyes with her own. “It will be difficult. You’ll be challenged, a witness to injustice and unable to act. Keep in mind the reason you are here and move on. I will remain with the ship and guard it.”

“Yes, master.”

I double checked I had everything I needed and exited the cockpit and the ship.

I was met at the bay exit by a pair of rough looking goons that acted as what passed for spaceport security, only minus the fancy uniforms and any notion of ‘law’ and formalized training; a twi’lek and a human. Their outfits looked like they’d just come off the set of Mad Max, except cleaner and they were armed with blaster pistols riding on their hips.

“What’s this, Jor? We let a Rigger land and out comes a togruta runt,” said the human in an accent that grated on my montrals.

“I don’t know, Jay. Let’s ask. Where’s your captain, runt?” The twi’lek sneered at me.

Both widened their eyes, when suddenly between one blink and the next, my WESTARs were aimed right at their faces.

“You’re looking at the captain of that ship,” I said evenly, meeting their eyes and pushing my intent into their minds via the Force. Both knew immediately that I’d pull the trigger with no hesitation and walk over their smoking corpses with contempt.

They raised their hands slowly and fear spiked from both. “Hey now, easy there little-”

“Captain Mizal, if you please,” I interrupted him with a deadly sweet smile on my face.

“Yes Captain, apologies. We just saw you and assumed-”

“Whatever.” My guns were holstered in the next moment and I flicked a cred chip into the human goon’s chest. Astonishment at my sheer hand speed meant he didn’t even catch it, letting it bounce to the floor. “That’s your tip. Now scram. I assume I pay the docking fee to what passes for a dockmaster here?”

“Yes, Captain,” the twi’lek said, as his fellow goon slowly knelt down to pick up the chip. “Just follow the signs.”

I pointedly waited for them to leave first before I walked out of the bay and into the mild bustle of the spaceport’s corridors, following the rusted and weathered signs that led to the dockmaster’s office.

He was a rotund, unhealthy looking man, but at least he didn’t give me any lip.

In fact, his whole bearing was outright weary as he looked at me. The large bank of surveillance feeds behind him accounted for his attitude. He handed over a datapad with the schedule of docking fees. It was really overpriced and ridiculous. I handed over the amount with an extra fifty percent.

His immediate satisfaction told me I had guessed correctly and I had at least bought him enough so that he’d do his job properly. Places like this were all the same, especially this close to Outer Rim.

Finally I emerged onto the streets of Mon Gazza city. The buildings around the spaceport were tall, grand and in the best shape; the locals making a token attempt to at least look ‘civilized’. The ancient original colonists really had preferred rectangular shapes in everything, not a single dome or arch was evident around me. The streets were an eclectic mix of species, with a clear bias to humans. The Pyke Syndicate, being human centric, did not want a species based uprising. Slavery was also evident by the explosive collars around necks - on both human and others. The Pykes were equal opportunity spreaders of misery it seemed. They were also so stingy and cheap that they didn’t even invest in the more effective and insidious slave implants.

I had memorized the streets via a map the tailor had uploaded, so I didn't bother with any of the graffitied public data terminals. It was almost certain they were spiked with viruses and false info, meant to catch any new and naive traveler in a web to either scam or rob them. Therefore I could walk with an assured outward bearing of a person who knew the place well. My openly carried weapons also spoke volumes but was at odds with my size and apparent age.

It was inevitable that I’d be targeted at some point because of it.

My right hand struck out to my side, catching the thieving fingers of a pickpocket.

“Ow, ow, ow!” A boy no older than eight, winced and sank to his knees in pain as the result of my grip on his fingers. His green skin and lighter tone hair, including other signs, indicated the kid was actually a human-twi’lek hybrid. Such hybrids were another common feature on worlds like Mon Gazza. A legacy of a human client with a twi’lek slave prostitute. “Let go!” He moaned.

“My money and blasters are not for the hands of a thief,” I said forbiddingly, leaning a bit into a traditional Mando persona.

Prescience triggered not of my own volition. Showing me distinct paths as I held onto the boy’s hand. If I gave him charity, a mere ten credits, two hours later he’d be injured badly as he fought to keep possession of the money from an older pickpocket. Hurt and unable to properly be a pickpocket, unable to afford even basic medicine or a doctor to treat him, he grows desperate and tries anyway. He gets caught by his next mark and killed.

The path of indifference. I just let him go. He finds another target and at the end of the day, manages a good haul. Again the same elder pickpocket beats him blue, takes the good stuff. It leaves the boy injured and the sale of the remaining loot hardly raises three credits. He dies again while trying to pickpocket someone while injured.

What nerfshit was this? Showing me nothing but bad outcomes no matter what I chose. Just various flavors of unhappy endings.

“Hey kid,” I eased on the pressure, but kept hold of his hand so he wouldn’t bolt. “Listen well and listen closely.” I leaned close and glared into his eyes, perceiving the young mind behind them. “You see red, you duck.”

He blinked in honest confusion. “W- what?”

“You see red, duck,” my voice, infused with the Force, hammered the idea home. “Oh and when you hit someone, use your palms, open your hand.” I demonstrated with my left hand. “Aim between the legs. Got it?”

The boy was still baffled, but nodded. If only to agree with the scary togruta. I let go and the kid scampered off, vanishing into the crowd.

I just barely caught a glimpse of the future as he vanished into a sea of probability. He’d survive, successfully fighting off his bully with only bruises and keeping his loot. Beyond that I couldn’t see, but if he built on this, he’d live and grow. Perhaps I’d just saved the life of a future Pyke Syndicate kingpin, someone who’d go on to murder, kill and destroy thousands of lives. Maybe he’d make it off this rock on another path and invent a new form of hyperdrive. There was just no way to pick up the boy’s thread amongst the sea of possibility now. I could’ve latched a brief bond on him and explored further, but I just didn’t see the point. I had a mission and couldn’t be distracted.

My destination wasn’t far from the spaceport.

The building was a two floor affair located on a street corner, that served as a large thoroughfare with lots of foot traffic, including the occasional passing speeder. A large sign proudly proclaimed; Sarg’s Fine Clothiers.

I pushed open the doors and an electronic chime crackled into life to announce my arrival.

Inside I was faced with a store that seemed like it was on a different planet. The walls were tastefully painted in various blues and reds. Electronic pictures on the walls shifted from one image to the next, showing off clothes from all manner of cultures, styles, planets and so on.

The number of clientele inside was a mere handful and they all seemed to be offworlders.

“Hello dear customer, welcome to Sarg’s. My name is Ulvy. How can I help you?”

My interlocutor was a human woman in her 30s. Her outfit of an elegant red dress with a long slit on her left side, showed off a body that caught the eye. Just from the way she walked I could tell she was a dancer or performer of some kind. Her voice also made a pleasant ‘dance’  on my montrals, so maybe she was both during the night. Her red hair was in a partial bun and hung otherwise loose to her shoulders.

“Yes, I did a bit of research and found you on the Holonet. I need three formal outfits in pantoran style.”

“Unfortunately, we have no ready-made outfits in that style for your size. Are you willing to wait for a measurement and custom outfit to be produced?”

“How long?”

“It’s not a terribly busy day, so approximately 40 minutes for the droid to finish.”

“That’s fine.”

“What name do you want to put on the order?”

Figures that a place that had to operate in Pyke territory wouldn’t be big on bookkeeping and leaving records beyond the absolute minimum necessary to be functional in satisfying their customers.

“Captain Mizal.”

“Very well, captain. How will you be paying?”

“Physical cred.”

Ulvy nodded, “Follow me, please.”

She led me into an adjoining room that only had a curtain over the threshold for privacy. Inside was a short padded stool in the center of the space. She patted it, “Please undress and stand here for the full body scan.”

I hesitated briefly before complying with the instruction. I unlatched my steel toed shoes, and pulled them off. The gun/utility belt was unlatched and I dropped it next to the stool, then undid my overall’s clips and zips, pulled it down and climbed out of it. A hop and I was on the stool and ready for my scan. It required a bit of internal control to override an instinctual embarrassment at this point, outwardly betraying no hint of my discomfort.

Ulvy looked me up and down, before asking in a slightly breathless voice, “Captain, what style of undergarments are these?”

“Hapan,” I said shortly. Given the cluster was practically on the other side of the galaxy, it was no surprise that she didn’t know of them. It was a style of underwear that went with most of my hapan wardrobe.

Minimalist was an understatement in describing them.

The panty was a thumb width strip of material that snaked between my legs, barely covering the needed bits. It went up the other side between my butt cheeks that anchored itself on the skin at the lowest end of my spine. The ‘bra’ started on the back of my neck, snaking down on either side and eventually cupped my breasts from beneath. This was my own version of the bra, as the hapan version would leave nipples exposed so they would poke against any fabric top. The material itself was a shiny white at the moment, but that could be changed using a special device to alter the color on the fly.

“Never seen a material like this,” she commented, picking up a scanner wand and datapad.

“Smart memory material,” I muttered as she began the scan procedure from my feet, steadily circling around me.

“You are clearly well traveled, captain, excuse me for saying so, for being one so young.”

“I get that a lot. That’s just how things worked out,” I deflected, playing up the mysterious angle. The best stories and lies sometimes, were the ones people invented in their own head to rationalize what they were seeing.

She smiled in response and continued her steady circuit around me.

Her scan was at my hips when the door chime to the store sounded.

“Excuse me, Captain,” she huffed in annoyance, put her tools down and breezed through the fitting room curtains. It seemed they were rather short staffed today.

“Hello Ulvy,” said a man with what seemed to be the local accent of Basic. I could just hear the strong ego and satisfaction.

“Han, what are you doing here?” she asked waspishly.

“Payment is due for this sweet little property.”

“Oh please, I did pay, you oaf.”

“That was the old payment. This is new. Rates went up. It’s a dangerous galaxy out there these days.”

There was a brief silence. “When someone higher on the chain than a street thug like you tells me, I’ll consider it. Send Djan next time.”

The next thing I heard was the crack-whine of multiple blaster shots. In the Force, I felt the deaths of the four other customers in the store.

From Ulvy, there was no screaming or fear, just a grim acceptance, hate and anger directed at Han and the two goons behind him who had pulled the triggers.

“There’s another in the fitting room, take care of it.”

How he knew I was back here didn’t matter at the moment, nor why this was happening. I heard booted footsteps, the curtains parted and in walked a blaster pistol armed trandoshan. He froze at the sight of my WESTARs pointed straight at his chest. I grabbed him in a Force stasis before he could even think to scream a warning.

The danger screaming through the Force and my own prescience meant I barely had moments to make a decision.

My fingers squeezed the triggers.

One bolt reduced the head of the trandoshan to a smoky mess of meat, whilst his internal organs flash boiled from the second bolt.

I jumped off the stool and kicked the body before it collapsed, aiding its velocity with a Push out of my foot.

It sent the body flying back into the shop to draw attention away from my own exit.

I rushed forward, falling to the floor and slid through curtains feet first.

My guns tracked a human goon standing behind Han, both their eyes were still following the amazing flying trandoshan. I fired and both men flinched from the center mass hits before simply crumpling to the floor like puppets whose strings had been cut.

Ulvy had also used the opportunity and now had a small holdout blaster in hand. She had clearly been aiming to shoot Han, but now simply kept aiming at his body.

She let out a brief sigh of relief, shaking her head from the adrenaline rush. “Thank you, captain. However, this is not over.”

I pushed myself to my feet. “What do you mean?”

Before she could answer I heard the shattering of a nearby window.

Through both my echosense and the Force I felt something heavy and small land just ten feet to my right.

There was no time for thought, only action.

I dove left and tackled Ulvy.

I had just enough time to wrap us both in a TK shield before the world disappeared in a flash of white light, extreme pressure and smoke.

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A Week of Pain and Frustration

The week began pretty much as any other. Worked, wrote the story, brainstormed, helped the family etc. Then wham - I get a minor case of small kidney stones. Those who've had this know the pain it inflicts - those who don't, imagine razor blades and needles through your bladder and further down, then you're pretty close. Turns out I wasn't watching my diet's acidity/alkaline balance well enough... oops.

I recovered, managing to write and meds kept the pain down and managed potential infection. Then the power company sends a letter. "We need to do maintenance." Power goes off on the day I intended to finish off the next chapter... and it doesn't come back on at the scheduled time. Next morning it still isn't back.

We get a message. "Our maintenance had identified numerous faults in the grid, first have to fix those." It drags on and on. My fridge defrosts, I have to use a camping gas stove to cook. Our neighborhood WhatsApp group is exploding with frustration at the company and our mayor is dragging his heels.

By this point I'm so bloody frustrated and my muse is cracking the whip in my brain. So I go old school to finish off Chapter 49, and the photo above is the result. 10 pages and counting of the final part of the chapter, written in the sun and under candlelight.  I haven't used pencil and paper so much since university. 

Finally after 3 days in the dark, the lights come on. As I write this, our power has been back for an hour.

I'm working on the transcribing to word processor at the moment, should hopefully go pretty quick and I can get it to you guys tomorrow at some point. 

The Force Wills - Chapter 48

“All right Snips, I’m here, what’s this about?”

“Secure the door, Skyguy.” Anakin nodded and pressed the control pad for the door to my quarters. I made a final scan of my room with the Force and my bug sniffer. “We’re clean.”

Anakin frowned and switched to signing, “You’re not using the full kit?”

“I took the opportunity to destroy the bug,” I smirked. “All this battle damage the Resolute took, such a pity.”

“They’ll just replace it eventually, Snips.”

“Yes, but it gives us an opportunity for a conversation that I really don’t even want a false record of. I don’t want Intel to know we even spoke at this time and place.”

“That sounds worrying,” he walked towards my desk and pulled out an extra chair to sit on. “Hey R3.” My astromech trilled a greeting from his spot next to my own chair.

“It has occurred to me for a while Skyguy, that while we must plan and build for the best case scenario against the enemy. We must also plan for the worst.”

“Makes sense,” Anakin nodded.

“You’ve probably long deduced by now that I haven’t shown you every card in my Pazaak deck.”

“Yes, but that’s for good reason, which you’ve gone to great lengths to explain.”

“I’ve also come to the conclusion that some secrets that are kept too close to one's chest might result in very avoidable disasters. I am in a war, one where my survival is in peril daily. If I die, my secrets… critical secrets, are taken with me. I need to think of more than just the galaxy I want to see someday, but also think about the galaxy without me.”

Anakin shook his head, “You are entirely too young for such thoughts, Snips. You dying… it won’t happen.”

“Such certainty, Skyguy. This is war. As much as I’d train and endeavor for it to not happen. Death can find us when we least expect it. In any event, I must make provision for it.”

I reached over to my desk and opened a nondescript plasteel gray case about thirty centimeters in width. Inside was foam padding I had cut out to fit numerous encrypted data chits.

I turned to R3 and held out my hand. A flap on the droid’s cylindrical body opened and a manipulator claw dropped a small circular capsule about the size of my thumb and another data chit.

“Snips, that’s a biocapsule,” he said, looking at it in suspicion.

“Correct, it’s something I’m adding to this case.” I dropped it in its slot.

“So are these all your ‘cards’?”

I laughed, “Of course not. This is just a portion of it. However, I wanted to let you know of their existence. So, if in the future, something happens to me, you can seek them out. A means to locate them will find you.” I sealed the case. Using the Force to manipulate the internal mechanism. Only a Force user would be able to open it and any attempt to breach it physically with more conventional means, would result in a fluid being released that corroded everything inside. I was still figuring out a way to keep a Sith out, which involved research into how ancient Jedi used kyber crystals to secure locations or holocrons, so it was very much a long term project. “We must also now talk of something else. I’m going to need your help with this one.”

“That is?”

“Tell me, what do you think of the clones?”

“They’re soldiers, they’re damn good at what they do. A number of them are… friends, comrades.” He clearly wanted to say more, but stopped himself. “Snips, what’s this about?”

I gave him a hard look, weighing the answer carefully. “You do realize that there is also another name for them… slaves.”

Anakin sat back and folded his arms, now giving me an almost equal hard look. “Yes.”

I blinked in astonishment for a moment, “You acknowledge this yet-”

“Snips, what exactly can I do about it?” He frowned, then got up to begin pacing. “Do I go up into the Council’s face and call them hypocrites of highest order? Do I begin barging into Senators offices and call them spineless cowards who can’t stomach the thought of their citizens fighting and dying in this war? Should I complain that I have thousands of blaster wielding men at my side fighting for the Republic against the countless droid formations of the CIS? Should I charge into the Senate and declare them all no better than the slavers we burned recently?”

“No, you should do none of those things.”

“Then since you brought up the subject, I’m sure you have a point you’re trying to get to,” he stopped and glared.

“R3, display holo.” The droid tilted his dome and the mounted projector blossomed a full body image of a standard clone trooper in the current generation of armor. “This is data I had R3 steal from the military complex during the battle.”

“Snips,” Anakin’s shoulders slumped in exasperation.

“You’ll see why in a moment, Skyguy,” I smiled, then grabbed at the holo to begin zooming in. The virtual layers peeled away, armor, body glove, skin, until all that was left was a human brain.

“Giving me an anatomy lesson, Snips? Wait, what is that?”

“That is a biochip that every single clone has,” I widened my fingers on the virtual brain until the chip in question was displayed, looking almost like a flat fleshy spider. “You can imagine that breeding a human clone army has potential risks attached to it. No matter how much you use external indoctrination or a controlled environment, you’re left with the realization that nothing is perfect. When you send those clones out into the field they’re even more susceptible to be swayed away from their intended purpose. Unless you put insurance in place.”

“The biochips, behavioral modification,” he nodded in understanding.

“They were originally ordered to be put there by Master Sifo-Dyas, the Jedi who had started the clone project in the first place. He was a Jedi much like myself, gifted with extreme powers of foresight. It earned him a spot on the Jedi Council but after the invasion of Naboo, he foresaw the current war we are fighting. He knew that the Republic would need an army if it was to survive. Naturally, the Council rejected the idea and after not even a couple of years, they booted him out.

“Sifo-Dyas was undeterred and grew only more determined, coming to Kamino and claiming to have the authorization of the Council and the Republic Senate to create this army. Using his powers of foresight he successfully bluffed the kaminoans and even managed to source enough seed money to pay for the initial costs. The only problem was, the enemy had managed to learn of Sifo-Dyas’s actions.”

Anakin held up a finger, “How? If he had foresight as well. I also thought it was the enemy who started it all.”

“You ask a good question, Skyguy. I can only conclude that Sifo-Dyas fell into a trap common among those who are cursed with foresight. He saw the war and it horrified him so much that he let his emotions and biases blinker him. This prevented him from seeing anything outside of his expectations, including the enemy, whose own foresight allowed him to see what Sifo-Dyas was doing. The enemy then engineered to have Sifo-Dyas killed by his new apprentice, Dooku.

“Dooku was also not one to get his hands dirty. So arranged to have his former friend killed, by paying the Pike Syndicate to shoot down his shuttle. It worked and now the enemy took over the clone project, using his own substantial funds and secretly funneling Republic money to Kamino to bring it to completion. Dooku arrived with all the funds, claiming to be representing Sifo-Dyas, so the kaminoans would think the original contract was being fulfilled. Hence, when Obi-wan arrived here to find the clone army, the kaminoans welcomed him with open arms. He was after all the customer finally coming to inspect the goods the Council had supposedly paid for.

“Sifo-Dyas had no clue about the Sith, but he had no illusions about the infallibility of his fellow Jedi and the politicians in the Senate. He had probably studied enough history that he knew that when Jedi go to war, some of us inevitably fall to the Dark Side. So he had contingencies and various orders programmed into the biochip. I’ll give Sifo-Dyas this, he was very thorough.”

“Snips, I’m not going to like this, aren’t I?”

“In general no, these orders are for the most part common sense, something you’d expect to see in any good planetary army in the galaxy. The problem is that these orders are encoded on biochips and when someone triggers them, it dampens the will, judgment and reason of the clone, to carry out this order to the letter.”

“So if someone with that authority became corrupt or was tricked by the enemy. It would turn the clones into effective droids, simply carrying out a program,” Anakin strained his fists in repressed anger and the glove over his prosthetic arm crackled in protest.

“Since we’re talking about biology, there will be some clones who find the strength of mind to partially or even completely resist the biochip orders, but they’re a distinct minority. The percentage of clones who resist the biochip are even lower among the clone commandos, since they’re given extra genetic engineering.”

“Makes sense, okay, so given Sifo-Dyas was worried about any fallen Jedi commanding the clones, what…” Anakin trailed off, his eyes widening in realization. “The order is to attack the Jedi?”

“In essence, yes. But here is where the enemy came in and corrupted the order. The order under Sifo-Dyas was most likely to just detain or depose any Jedi officer that was acting against the interest of the Republic. This would allow the Jedi to step in, rehabilitate and take care of their fallen brethren. Now, with the enemy in charge… R3, display.”

The holo biochip vanished and was replaced with a flatscreen, showing all 150 contingency orders programmed into the biochip for the Grand Army. It scrolled to 66…

“‘In the event of Jedi officers,’” Anakin began reading, “‘acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new commander structure is established.’”

It was rare to see such an expression on Anakin’s face, but he was absolutely aghast at the words he was reading.

“Do you see how vague that is? How easily this order could be given. It’d take just one Jedi falling to the Dark Side, defecting to the CIS, and the enemy would have a button ready to press that would see the GAR turn to kill every Jedi within sight.”

“He wouldn’t… how?” Anakin shook his head staring into the floor and I could sense he was struggling to come to terms with the fact that Palpatine, his ‘friend’ and mentor, had a gun the size of an army, held directly to his head, my head, Obi-Wan’s and everyone in the Order. There was a mistake in that thinking.

“Before I continue, Master, I want you to verify that this data came directly from the central core computer and DNA room of the military complex. Isolate your datapad, please.” The holo vanished and R3 ejected the data chit.

He frowned but did as I asked, before slotting in the chit. Then his hand began tapping on the pad, running programs and checking for inconsistencies. He spent just a minute before shaking his head. “I’ve satisfied myself, Ahsoka. I trust you, what do you want me to see?”

“Browse to the last order. Order 150.”

Anakin did so and began reading.

I took a deep breath and began shoring myself up in the Force. Then threw everything I had into a probability obscurement around our position.

This was very risky, but the clock was ticking. If I didn’t throw this dice now, then all my efforts were worth nothing in the end.

Anakin stared at the datapad and the casing of the device began to visibly bend.

The Force in my quarters became as thick as molasses and a variety of loose bits and bobs around the place began shaking and trembling. I also became aware of the very walls and bulkheads beginning to warp and buckle.

If there was any cloistered master that doubted Anakin was the singular most powerful Force user in the galaxy, then they would be quickly disabused of that notion at that moment, in my small quarters.

I could try to stop the TK effects or I could shield him from Sidious’s foresight, not both.

Interrupting him would also be bad, best to just get this out of his system as he began to finally piece together the last bit of the puzzle.

“You knew?” he said. It was the contrast that made it scary as fuck. He should be raging even as my quarters were steadily getting damaged, but this was not the Anakin of three years from now. That Anakin was not the Anakin that had me as his padawan.

“Of course, I did, Master. I wish there was an easier way to break this to you. That since you were a boy fresh from slavery on Tatooine, that he’s had his sights on you. Why else would that order exist, exempting you specifically from Order 66. An order that also programs every clone to recognize the Supreme Commander and even identifies him by his secret name and appearance.”

Anakin pulled out the data chit and handed it over to me, before crushing his datapad into an unrecognizable lump of plasteel using a quick thought.

“And I can…” he stopped himself, looked around the quarters with alarm, took a deep breath and sat on the floor, plunging into a meditation to get the Force around him under control.

For a while, we both just sat there in silence, all the while I kept up the probability shield around us both. It was thankfully much easier to do as he began working to actively calm down.

My anchor indicated that we had both fallen into a mediation for just under two hours during this process and it all passed in the blink of an eye relatively.

“You couldn’t tell me. You let me believe that Sidious and Palpatine were two different people, that the enemy was controlling Palpatine…” he thought and incredibly, he laughed ruefully. “You pulled an Obi-Wan on me.”

“The Palpatine persona is a very charming mask, Skyguy. It’s a mask that has fooled most everyone in the galaxy, as it’s backed by the Force and the Dark Side. Every master on the Council has been fooled. You can’t blame yourself for not seeing through it, especially not when he has used it on you from a very young age.”

“And now you rip off that mask. No one can imagine that it’s him, so he slips right through! I’d almost admire it, if it wasn’t so… insidious.”

“Yes, and now you see his primary tool to eventually destroy the Jedi. It’s not ready yet. Our numbers are too great, we haven’t been worn down enough. Our trust in the clones is not established yet as a whole. The Shroud he has been weaving over the Force to blind us to the danger from the clones is not yet complete either. There is also the public he has to prepare.”

“They wouldn’t accept the notion that the Jedi would turn against the Republic,” he pointed out.

“That is a slow and subtle narrative he will slowly begin to concoct over the next two years. As the war drags on, the Jedi Council will grow discontent with his rule as Chancellor, they will see his consolidation of power and the gradual weakening of the Senate. At this point, many military failures will have happened, most laid the blame at the Jedi’s feet. Dooku’s actions will only grow more heinous and our constant failure to bring him in or stop him will only torpedo the Jedi’s reputation further. He has numerous media organizations on the payroll to help shape the narrative further. The Jedi Council, their minds clouded by war, begins to think that public perception is a distant concern. They see such public relations exercises as something the Jedi must be above.

“Finally, there will come a time when he reveals himself as the Sith Lord behind everything, he only does this when all the pieces are in place for his rise to ultimate power over the galaxy. The Jedi Council, in a panic, acts rashly and confronts him with drawn lightsabers in his office.”

“Given everything you’ve impressed upon me about him, I imagine it will not go well?”

“They play right into his hands. Two masters are cut down in seconds, only Windu holds his own and even manages to physically defeat him. However, Windu is blindsided by you, Skyguy. The only voice of reason in the whole affair. Trying to stop the Council from just unilaterally killing the sitting chancellor, just because he happened to be a Sith. Not caring how it would look to the public. You stop Windu from outright killing Palpatine, but end up wounding him in the process. Palpatine retaliates out of feigned weakness, killing Windu with Force Lightning and flinging him out of the chancellery office window in the process.”

Anakin cradled his face in his left hand and I could feel his turmoil as I described his future actions. He could well imagine himself jumping to the aid of Palpatine in that situation.

“It was the final break in a long line of events for you, Skyguy. Remember how I told you how he wanted to convert you to his side, to the Dark Side. Knocking away the pillars of everything that supported you; Padme, Obi-Wan, the Council and myself. Well, at this point, you see no choice, you become his new apprentice and you both move against your enemies. The first action of which is Order 66, which also triggers 150.

“It means you can lead the 501st without fear and in your next move, you invade the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, to further carry out Order 66-”

“Stop, Ahsoka,” he said and looked up wearily into my eyes.

“As you wish, Master.”

“I have a lot to process and think about. Get to the point… You wanted my help with the clones in some way.”

“At some point, we need to make a decision about what to do about the biochip, Master. I’ve been thinking about it and the only conclusion I can come to is that I need to share this burden, so that together we can think of an idea. All I’ve come up with would inevitably lead to problems upon problems. For example, I knew the Battle of Kamino would be an opportune time for some clandestine intel gathering. The battle and the damage to the city, is the perfect window of opportunity and it is rapidly closing. I thought about editing the orders, but realized immediately that his foresight would pick up such a drastic reversal. Such an edit would also not affect the clones that are already in the field. The only other plan I have is to slowly rotate select clone units to Mandalore.”

“Why there?”

“It’s there where, as leader of Clan Vizsla, I can devote enough resources covertly to remove the biochips from the clones. The only way to get them there is by an order from you, Master.”

“And how would I justify that?” he pointed out reasonably.

“Joint training exercises,” I shrugged.

“That has the same problem as editing the biochips,” Anakin pointed out. “If enough clones are without chips and fail to respond to his orders, that would also blip on his foresight.”

“You can see now why I need another brain working the problem,” I said wearily, slumping somewhat in my seat.

Anakin stood and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Listen Snips, I’ve long realized that you lived with a terrible burden, but I guess I didn’t even know the half of it. As much as I wished you could’ve told me sooner, the past-me we wouldn't have listened. The idea that Palpatine… could be the one behind so much pain and suffering, it’s preposterous. Yet that’s what he counts on.”

“Yes, speaking of which, before you can leave my vicinity, I need to teach you how to wear masks.”

“What?”

“Now that you know, you must maintain a facade of your ignorance. Not just physically in how you act, but in the Force itself.”

“That doesn’t sound easy,” he said wearily.

“No, it’s not. But you can’t leave my immediate presence until you can. I’m shielding you for now, but I can’t keep that going forever.”

Anakin eventually nodded, “Very well, let’s do this. And Snips…”

“Yes, Master?”

“Thank you.”

88888888888888888888888888

The next day I was not operating at 100%.

Getting Anakin up to speed on obscuring himself and using what I was privately calling the Force Mask, was literally life or death and so we had spent every second of the past day in deep meditation together, stretching that time out in the formless void along our Force Bond. We even switched off our comlinks, only leaving a general message that we were busy with Jedi training business. We didn’t eat or sleep and only drank water and sustained ourselves with the Force.

Such a fasting meditation was an actual technique that Jedi could do, though was only practiced by those who were at cloistered temples and chapterhouses - who had a lifestyle that allowed for it.

Thankfully, Anakin had gained a passable form of Masking that would at least allow him to leave my immediate presence - it was a skill he would have to constantly practice further and he was extremely motivated to become very good at it. I had made sure to remind him that Padme was the natural first target of Sidious when it came to manipulation.

Now I was back in my command chair on the Resolute, reviewing the repair progress to the power grid. It was relatively slow going, which would take at least another two days for the grid to be brought back to something which would allow for hyperspace travel and a further three days for combat readiness. That was always the problem when repairing something that snaked its way through every system and part of the ship. It was tedious and mostly repetitive work, swapping out breakers and burnt out power conduits.

In that respect, neither Anakin or my own presence was really needed, but a lot of stuff that had needed our authorization had gotten delayed due to our ‘emergency training’.

Both Obi-Wan and Shaak Ti had accepted our excuse on face value, as we played on the inherent privacy that was respected between master and padawan.

So, with a cup of very warm caf in one hand, and datapad reviewing the repairs in the other I got on with doing the neglected work and catching up on duty shifts on the bridge.

Of course, the Force wasn’t content with letting me just destress from successfully getting through the most anxious day of my second life so far.

A blink of an eye and I felt my mind being pulled on a full blown Vision.

The water world of Kamino as seen from space…

… my point of view plunged into the atmosphere and ocean, with no regard given to the intervening matter…

… the southern hemisphere…

… a long line of underwater canyons… so deep… the pressure was unbelievable…

…yet there were structures here, old ones, that seemed to defy time and the weight of the ocean above… speaking of technology that only the kaminoans had…

…a light… power… life… someone was still living here! Now!

… my point of view rushed towards it and I found myself in a modest living space…

… the tall, gangly occupant, busy with the daily chores of life, cooking food she caught herself…

… her eyes whirled to face me and I beheld twin galaxies…

My eyes finished their blink and I was back on the bridge of the Resolute.

I stood up immediately, putting my cup into its holder before striding to the forward transparisteel viewports and gazed down at the planet around which we were orbiting distantly. I stretched my senses towards it, towards the southern hemisphere and naturally found nothing.

That didn’t mean anything. In comparison to the being my vision had shown, there was a vast ocean of experience and power between us. If she wanted to hide from me, nothing I could do would be able to pierce her defenses. It was only the vision that had given me the thinnest of threads to even know that…

There was a kaminoan Force sensitive hiding there.

Just the fact that such a being could exist was a revelation. The kaminoans didn’t have Force sensitives or Jedi. Their society considered such a thing abhorrent in the face of their own self engineered perfection. The Force was out of their control, therefore anyone of their own who was significantly connected to it was undesirable, imperfect and possessed of socially disruptive ideas.

I looked around the bridge, “Captain Velos, you have command.”

The senior naval clone looked at me with a raised eyebrow, “Yes, Commander. May I ask-”

“No. Send word down to the hangar bay. I need a shuttle.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rushed past him and off the bridge, throwing myself into the closest turbolift.

When I reached the hangar bays, it was to find a Nu-class shuttle being prepped by a crew. I belatedly realized I hadn’t specified the type I wanted, but this would have to do. My brain was in a nasty single minded ‘zone’, analyzing every detail of the vision to try and wring out further meaning that I might’ve missed.

I boarded the shuttle and immediately ensconced myself in the cockpit, powering up the sensors and computers, including a database link. A holo of Kamino appeared before me and I brought up a sea floor topographical map overlay, focusing on the southern hemisphere. Further filtering for known major canyon formations at the depths I had seen.

It brought down the list of potential locations for the vision to about a dozen possibilities.

I swiped my hand through each holo that the computer flashed for me, comparing it to what I had seen.

At possibility number eight, my entire being seemed to resonate with the absolute certainty that this was the place.

The Slici Canyons.

It was also at a depth of just over ten kilometers.

My brain recalled a physics class I had taken during the academy and after a few calculations, the stupendous pressures at that depth was revealed to be in the region of 964 standard atmospheres. Another mental calculation threw that into a unit of my previous life, 14181 psi.

That anyone was just living a hermetic existence at that depth was mind boggling.

The crew chief waved, “Commander, she’s all ready!”

I gave him a casual salute of thanks in return and powered up the shuttle’s systems fully. I pulled back on the yoke controls, then did a final maneuvering check, before inching the throttle forward and guiding the shuttle into the Resolute’s spine.

“Dorsal hangar doors opening, Commander,” announced Velos. “Would you please just log a destination, so when things inevitably go wrong, I know where to send the rescue parties?”

“I’m going to Tipoca City, nothing to write home about.”

“Very well.”

I opened the throttles fully and the shuttle smoothly exited into open space. I plotted a straight efficient course to the city and began the necessary engine burns.

“Now to find a submarine someone’s willing to loan me. Grief, Ahsoka, don’t challenge yourself so much.”

88888888888888888888888888888

I received landing clearance in one of the main hangar bays in the eastern dome of the military complex. As I was an unscheduled arrival, I had to go through quite a bit of security red tape; such as my command code in the GAR, an active scan of the shuttle and even a bioscan of myself by a clone security team.

Once that was done, the security team marched off promptly and I was finding myself somewhat at a loss of what to do next. I knew there were sub bays on the lower levels of the complex, whether there actually were craft that could take me so deep and travel the distance to Slici Canyon was another issue. The databases I could access from the shuttle were sparse on precise details of kaminoan water craft.

I turned to head off in the direction of the nearest lift but before I had even taken two steps-

“Uh, excuse me, uh, commander.”

The voice was rather out of place, because it was so elderly.

I turned to my interlocutor and found a hunchbacked clone, wearing a tech overall.

“99?” I said, my amazement slipping past my emotional masking.

“Uh, yes, commander. You know of me?” He was rather surprised at that fact, his face twisting into a lopsided smile.

“Gossip travels faster than hyper and your help to the 501st did not go unnoticed,” I explained smoothly. It was actually true. The AARs of the various troopers did go through a program to distill it into a summary by the time it reached Anakin’s datapad, but Rex’s official reports were unvarnished and only subject to the clone’s own judgment on what his senior officers had to know. His praise for 99s help in the battle was obvious, even if it was bogged down by military verbiage. That the old clone had also survived the battle was a welcome surprise and a butterfly of events and consequences that I didn’t even want to try and untangle.

“Why, thank you, Commander Tano, I was just doing a soldier’s duty. It seems though, if you forgive my observation, that you are a little bit lost?”

“Not so much lost, more uncertain. You wouldn’t happen to know whether there are submersibles down below that can reach ten kilometers depth and travel two hundred kilometers distance?”

The old clone’s smile grew wider, “I know just the thing. Follow me, Commander.”

88888888888888888888888888

A few turbolift rides later and walking a route that would baffle anyone who wasn’t a Jedi, 99 led me into a large bay that was just about ten meters below the nominal waterline.

On one side, stacked floor to ceiling were aquacraft that were rather small to my sensibilities. They were just over seven meters in length, featuring a pronged double hull mated to a spherical cockpit nestled in between the prongs. The hull featured smooth clean lines and glinted with silvery chromatic finish.

99 immediately went over to a shielded control room that looked like it could survive a direct blaster cannon shot.

Tractor beams hummed to life and picked up one of the craft from its cradle, before letting it settle onto a twenty meter diameter pool of water that dominated the central area of the bay.

Walkways extended from the edge of the pool and hovered directly over the sub’s cockpit.

“This is a KE-UW33 submarine, built by the kaminoans for long range single person underwater transport,” 99 explained, emerging from the control room. “Most of them still prefer to use tamed Aiwha whales, but when speed is an issue, they use these. They’re rated to a 15 kilometer depth with an operational range of 900 km. It’s a bit extreme, since most of their active underwater settlements never go to a depth beyond 9 km these days.”

99 led the way and he crouched above the submarine’s cockpit, opened a small panel, tapped a few buttons, which caused the upper transparisteel sections to blossom open with a smooth hiss.

The instant I climbed in I discovered an immediate problem.

“Oh, sorry commander, forgot about that,” he reached down and tapped a blue button on the forward control panel. My seat seemed to come alive and mold itself to my back and legs, before pushing me forward. The many displays and panels also shifted themselves forward to accommodate my smaller size.

“I’m rather surprised they have this feature,” I commented. That the kaminoans had gone to the trouble to account for other species piloting their craft was rather at odds with their mild xenophobia.

99 chuckled awkwardly, “This setting is for young kaminoans, they only become truly tall at the end of what is considered their puberty.”

“Figures,” I grumbled, going through a pilot checklist, testing the play of the odd control yoke and what the various MFD screens displayed. “At least, they’ve got everything in Basic.”

“Yes, there is also a droid level intelligence for an autopilot. If you’re unfamiliar with piloting underwater craft I strongly suggest you let it do the work.”

“Jedi Padawan are trained to operate craft that travel in many mediums, 99,” I assuaged his worry. “It’s been more than a year since I was last in that simulator, so I’ll let the autopilot do the heavy lifting, whilst I familiarize myself with this specific craft.”

I tapped a few controls on the upper panel.

A tinny voice issued forth, “Greetings, I am Submarine Craft 552, built by Kamino Engineering. How may I assist you today?”

99 smiled, “Well then, I’ll get the outer doors open for you.”

“99,” I stopped him before he could leave. “Thank you.”

“You’re a commander in the GAR, just doing my duty,” he saluted me and walked off.

With technometry I merged my senses briefly with the sub, getting a feel for its every system and what was responsible for each function. After a few moments, I knew that kaminoan underwater tech was amazing. This was an ocean based civilization and their works naturally made what I was familiar with from my previous life look like old Earth had just been kiddies playing in a shallow pond.

I tapped a large button clearly made for much bigger fingers.

The cockpit closed up and sealed.

“552, go through your checklist. Vocalize so I can follow.”

“At once, Commander Tano.”

I chuckled, “Already interfaced with the city database I see.”

“Naturally, your security level is sufficient for access to 98% of the military complex. I needed to verify whether you had clearance to pilot me.”

The craft went through its rather dizzying checklist after that. I spent most of the time customizing the various MFDs to my own preferences. In the process discovering that the sub had a stupendous top speed of 140 kph underwater at any depth. I vaguely recalled that a Seawolf class attack submarine could reach 65 at flank.

“Checklist complete, all systems nominal and ready.”

“Thank you, 552. Set a course of south-south-east from Tipoca City, cruising speed only for the moment.”

“At once, commander.”

The sub whined for a brief moment, before the water began swallowing me up from my perspective as it began diving.

Below the moon pool of the sub bay, was a wide submerged tunnel that ran forward for ninety meters or so before the way was blocked by an external door.

The sub’s forward lights switched on and the door irised open impressively and beyond was the vast seemingly infinite depths of the ocean world.

I didn’t have thalassophobia, but it was a challenge for any land based sentient of the galaxy to fully accept the true scale of an ocean’s depths. At least in space, you had SPACE and could see for light years. In an ocean you were surrounded on all sides with a medium which severely limited how far you could see with light, which hid all the very nasty beasties that called that medium home.

Sub 552 shot itself through the water and left the submerged stalks of Tipoca City behind. Doing a curving rapid turn into the course direction I had given.

“Stay at a depth of a hundred meters, I’ll tell you when to dive.”

“Understood, commander. Be aware, I’m detecting a kamoradon to the north, range twenty kilometers.”

I quickly brought up a database entry on it and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Three pairs of very large flippers, long tail, sharp snouty mouth filled with razor sharp teeth and roughly the size of a large building.

I quickly brought up the craft’s sensors that were detecting the thing, and used it as focus for my senses through the Force. A ten second observation of its position indicated it wasn’t heading in my direction at least and through the Force I only sensed an animalistic mind that was almost always aggressive in a never ending quest for prey.

“552, does this craft have a silent running or low noise mode?”

“Yes it does, commander. Do you wish to activate it?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically.

“Silent mode engaged.”

I suddenly felt the speed decrease and now the craft was only hitting about 80 kph, whilst the general humming whine of the engines became a steady single note thrum at a much lower volume.

My next priority was to actually learn what defensive measures this thing had. The kaminoans wouldn’t build a craft like this without being able to at least fend off big beasts like that. I hadn’t sensed anything that looked like an underwater gun or torpedo in the thing’s systems. A quick review of the MFDs revealed that it had a shield and a short range EM field that was powerful enough to at least fend off a kamoradon and the other smaller beasties that prowled the depths.

“Great, now all I need is some world ending bacterial plague and…”

I hit the figurative mental brakes on that line of thought and turned away from that direction in a hurry. To help, I plunged my mind into something else to occupy it, bringing up a nav map to program in my course to the Slici Canyon.

“Are you sure you want to go there, commander? Records indicate the Slici Canyon outposts were abandoned approximately 3523 years ago,” 552 stated.

“Yes, I’m sure. Do those records state why they were abandoned?”

“Not explicitly, commander.”

“Keep your sensors peeled for more hostile lifeforms, I will do the same in my meditation. We’ve got a long two and a half hours ahead of us.”

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“Snips, where are you going?”

I cracked open my eyes and stared at the Nav MFD; ten minutes to the destination.

“Took you long enough, Skyguy,” I thought back to him with mock annoyance.

“Ha ha. Now answer the question.”

“Short version. Got a vision from the Force. Finding a kaminoan Jedi who’s been in solitude for a few thousand years.”

Anakin nicely sent across the vision of himself with folded arms and giving me a deadpan look.

“I don’t need to ask if you’re serious, but if this is the case, did you not consider that this Jedi might not appreciate you disturbing their hermitage?”

“She won’t appreciate it at all, but if I don’t do this, the Force is going to keep pestering me about it.”

“Sithspit, why would the Force send you of all people? You’re a talented padawan sure, but sixteen-”

“Skyguy, yes, it would be more logical to have Master Yoda contact her. I’ve been meditating on this, running it through my head and I sense no danger in the future from her.”

“There’s no telling what her abilities are, Snips. She might be able to confound your foresight.”

“That is true. However, I’ve got a hunch on this.”

“That’s usually my thing, Snips,” he grumbled back. “I’m coming down and keeping a mental eye on you in the background. In the future, at least tell me when something like this happens before you go charging off.”

“I will, Master.”

I surveyed the readouts of the sub’s systems. Everything was nominal, the closest fauna being a herd of Aiwha about six kilometers off starboard.

“We have arrived, commander. Do you wish to commence diving?” 552 politely asked.

I released my anxiety at the thought, letting it pass through me. Putting away the thought of how deep I was going, the pressure, the immense vastness of blue around me.

“Dive, 552.”

“Affirmative.”

My eye turned to the depth reading on my left MFD, sitting at 110m then rapidly began increasing. There was no feeling of motion and acceleration at all, only through the Force was I aware of the water flow and how my craft was moving downward.

As soon as I breached below 200 meters, the light from the local star began to rapidly fade into a twilight of darker blues.

By the time I reached 900 meters I could just barely perceive hints that a fluid medium was around the cockpit and everything was dark purple, then just before the depth reached 1km, there was nothing but absolute black.

The only light from outside was the reflections coming off the hull from the forward floodlighting, which let me see a steady stream of ocean going particles caught in their beams that seemed to flow upwards.

I focused my eyes on that as my lifeline. It was one thing to know intellectually what would happen, it was another to actually experience that awful void of black. At least space had stars…

At 1.2km depth, every hint of external color and light was gone.

The steady anxiety I had been managing perfectly well, started to ramp up and I had to forcefully put away stupid images my brain was conjuring up for me - imagining cracks in the cockpit, how quickly I would die in the implosion. It was already at 118 standard atmospheres outside.

I forcefully diverted my thoughts to thinking about the metallurgy, reinforcement and systems the craft had to survive all the way down to 15 km.

The hull alone could survive up to 9 km, but going deeper required polarization and gravitic shielding to be activated.

The craft reached 3 km and I could hear Aiwha song resonating into my cockpit. Far from comforting me with its similarity to Earth whales, it just served as another reminder of my depth.

“Oh, my kingdom for a music player,” I moaned.

“Do you want me to play you something, commander?” 552 asked promptly.

“What do you have access to?” I asked a bit desperately.

“An entire catalog of kaminoan music of the last decade, a number of music compilations from-”

“I don’t care, just play something relaxing.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, commander. Due to your unique physiology and hearing, I doubt my judgment about what would qualify as relaxing to you would result in a good outcome. I’m detecting elevated stress responses-”

“Yes, yes, okay, anything from Shili?”

“Unfortunately not. Do you wish for me to access the Holonet for such music?”

“Yes.”

Thankfully, a hyperwave communicator didn’t care about such things as 4 km of seawater above your head and less than a few seconds later, I was treated to the delightfully rich and complex tones of a Shili classical orchestra. Music that could only be listened to if you had montrals.

It was crazy that of all the things I had faced so far in this life, that this fear would be the one that challenged me the most.

I let the soothing rich tones wash over me, using them to banish the fear and thoughts. I cast my imagination aside as it threw images of another massive sea creature, suddenly appearing in the glare of my craft’s forward lights. A massive maw, with two equally massive mandible claws on either side of its rapaciously grinning ‘face’.

I will face my fear.

I was in a small bubble of life, with only utter darkness surrounding me.

That was only an illusion and the Force showed me how my normal senses were being deceived

There was life in this darkness. Small fish, barely larger than my fist, that looked like puffy marshmallows that didn’t have eyes at all, using the very currents of the ocean to ‘see’. Larger whale type species that gobbled those up by the ton.

The steadily rising pressure was slowing down my descent rate somewhat, but the engines powered through with no problems as the craft spiraled down and down.

I was in a constant battle with myself throughout and in that moment I understood actually why I had received the vision in the first place.

This was far from a petty fear and it clawed at me using every hook of memory and feeling it could access.

I will conquer you.

At some point I fell into a full blown mediation, as I lost quite a lot of my external senses, with only my hearing left to me.

This was a battle that had little rationality to it. There was nothing to visualize it with. It was just a back and forth of assault. My fear, my Dark Side, using my own imagination, throwing visual tricks and even smells to try and make me give in to it.

“Commander, we have arrived at the Slici Canyon.”

I jolted back out of the mediation with my heart in my throat.

The clawing cold of the Dark had been beaten back, but I knew immediately this was not something that would be won in a day, week or even years. It was a struggle that would hound me for the rest of my life, unless I could conquer this fear somehow. It was not a fear of these depths… that was just its manifestation in the physical universe. It was a fear of crushing emptiness, of something utterly devoid of life and light, a void.

“Give me a local scan,” I ordered wearily.

A holo of an S-shaped canyon in the craggy ocean floor below me was rendered in the holo. I grabbed a hold of the steering yoke and tilted the nose of the sub down, aiming the light beams.

Sure enough, I saw the edge of a vast canyon.

“Any power signatures, 552?”

“Confirmed, low level emissions detected, near a geo-thermal vent in the lower apex of the canyon.”

“Makes sense, renewable power generation and heat source, only question is how she would be eating,” I mumbled to myself. “I’ll take the controls from here 552.”

“Affirmative, commander.”

Left hand on the throttle and I pushed forward, bringing the sub’s nose up to clear the lip of the canyon, before descending further into it. It was roughly seventeen kilometers in length and ranged from 800 meters to three kilometers in width.

It wasn’t long before scans and my lights intersected with the ruins of kaminoan underwater buildings, smoothly jutting out from the side of the canyon. The architecture was different, but like any culture, that had evolved over time as their tastes and circumstances changed. The smooth organic curving lines were there, but these seemed to lack that utter fetish for perfect proportionalism. Here they adapted their buildings to take advantage of the natural surroundings, including hollowing out living spaces directly from the canyon walls.

Then there was nothing, just natural curved craggy walls for a few kilometers.

I turned the sub to starboard, then applied a bit of reversed thrust to slow down enough to make the first turn.

There!

Light, coming from an intact building seemingly merged with the canyon wall halfway up.

“552, is that a docking tunnel I’m seeing there?”

“Correct, commander. You simply have to steer the craft in there to enter the pressure envelope of the building.”

“Glad she hasn’t closed the door on us.”

Then the sheer presence of this Jedi in the Force registered passively to my senses. It was absolutely deliberate. Before there had been nothing, now I registered her as she lowered her own obfuscation just enough for me to detect her.

She had obviously known I was coming for a long while, probably ever since the vision had hit and sent my intentions and actions into her probability path.

“Well, there’s an invitation to come in, at least.”

I maneuvered the sub forward and carefully guided it through the threshold of the docking tunnel, taking it nice and slow.

“Apologies commander, I’ve detected no signal on any band. What are you referring to?”

“Don’t worry about it, 552.” Explaining the basics of the Force to a droid was something I only did once for R3, and it had been like explaining extremely high frequency music to someone without montrals.

The docking tunnel was nicely lit, though the sub just barely fit into it. The kaminoans had at least kept their subs to a common form factor over the years.

The tunnel was barely ten meters long before it terminated into a moon pool above me.

“Here we go.”

I lifted the yoke and the sub parted the water of the pool and settled into it.

A quick look at this dimly lit sub bay, showed no one here to immediately greet me. In a cradle to one side was another small one-person sub, but one which didn’t have the clean lines of a modern kaminoan sub, but looked more like a fat cylinder with rudders. The bay itself had the smooth cool curving of the kaminoan building style, but was colored in greens and gray, but there were gaps and breaks, where ad-hoc repairs and maintenance had been done.

“Atmospheric scan, 552.”

“Nominal, commander.”

I double checked the seals on my Aegis helmet and armor, and even activated a biofiltering mode. There was no way I was giving this Jedi Master an infection or bug. The chance was negligible, given how alien a kaminoan physiology was relative to my own, but I had no idea how truly isolated she’d kept herself in this hermitage. I could be carrying a new bug from the surface that she had no resistance to.

I opened the spherical cockpit and stood up on the seat. There was no walkway being extended, nor did I see any.

My legs briefly tensed and I burst into a Force Jump that carried me to solid land.

I reveled in the feeling of just being in a relatively open space that wasn’t that bloody cockpit, and stretched my limbs out.

“Hello?” I winced as I worked on my right arm, looking around for this mysterious Jedi.

Only to stop dead as my vision was filled with the chest of a tall, thin, barely clothed kaminoan.

I looked up and stared into two big black eyes, filled with sparkly galaxies. They were set in a sinuous light blue face that was… smiling?

If I hadn’t been a Jedi, I probably would’ve jumped out of my skin and screamed in fright. How had she gotten so close?

Then I was hugged.

“Oh thank the Force! It’s so good to meet you. My name is Kina Ha. Who are you? Can I get you anything? What do you eat? I’ve got…”

The word babble washed over me and I stiffened in the alien’s awkward embrace.

‘Uh, Skyguy, question.’

‘Yes, Snips, are you all right?’

‘Fine, any advice for how to handle a half-naked, attention-starved Jedi hermit, who’s very grabby?’

The silence on his end was deafening.

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A/N: Hope you all had a nice, enjoyable holiday weekend.  

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 13

I swiped my thumb and dismissed the window showing PHO and returned to idly browsing a few other social media sites.

As much as I had exiled myself from there over the last few years, now I was forced to return simply to keep my head in the game on the public perception of my cape persona, events that occurred in the city and in the wider cape world on a national and even international level. The amount of time that could be spent just looking at each cape, scrutinizing their costumes, their interactions with the public and their enemies was a deep rabbit hole to disappear down into. I even ended up having to use a translator app, in one example, just to understand just why a cape in Brazil called Erasmo had such an antagonistic attitude towards anyone from Mexico.

My phone gave a silent flashing warning that I had just reached 15% battery life.

I huffed quietly in annoyance and looked behind me at my current bedmate, who was snugly and warmly spooning against my back, with a muscular arm draped over my side.

Uber was deep in slumber and not getting up any time soon.

I misted and reappeared next to the bed stand, quickly plugging in the charger before putting the phone down.

I misted again, reoccupying my warm, comfy spot before grabbing the phone and resuming browsing. Uber hadn’t noticed my quick absence enough to wake up thankfully.

My mind again inwardly marveled at what I was doing or rather still doing here.

Replaying the sequence of events in my head didn’t help reduce my incredulity, yet each one was utterly logical on the face of it.

I had been flying home and the prospect of just stewing alone in my room with everything I had seen and done, was totally unappealing. I had been going to the Red Light for some action and getting some sustenance originally, but hunting for a client was just as unappealing at the thought of how potentially long it would take, never mind that the city’s alert level thanks to that stupid train meant everyone was off the streets.

So I contacted the duo.

Leet was already on his way to the PRT with Truce assurance in hand, to help with containing the SCP, leaving Uber as the only one who could really help me.

Finding a hotel room was also out of the question, so after much assurance from me that I had a vested interest in not ratting them out, I got an invitation to their secret lair.

This lair, was actually situated on of all places, a country club estate in the north-west of the city, just on the outskirts of Brockton. There were a number of high market homes on the estate and the duo occupied a near 3000 square feet double story home that should’ve belonged to a CEO of some company or upper-class family.

That Uber and Leet had their lair in one was just mind boggling - which was probably the entire point.

How they got their hands on it and kept things under wraps was something I still didn’t know, but I had come to a fair number of guesses.

Firstly, the place didn’t really have neighbors. The closest was a three hundred yard walk across meandering footpaths among the golf courses. The place was nicely surrounded by tall trees, with only bits of it sticking out to any passing golfer, who would always be on the other side of a small pond, which that course used as a water trap. The rules of the club neatly discouraged golfers from approaching the houses on the estate as well.

The true ‘lair’ of the duo, was also in the basement of the home, which had been expanded in size using a device of Leet’s invention, which turned any space set into it, to expand like a permanent version of Vista’s powers. They hadn’t let me down there obviously, but it was big enough for holding everything Leet and Uber needed and could be expanded on command. Uber couldn’t help but brag occasionally it seemed.

The rest of the massive home was kept to a generally neat appearance for ‘public’ consumption.

“We’re two straight guys sharing this house, it’d look suspicious if it was too clean,” Uber had explained with a shrug as he had taken me on a brief tour of the house.

It didn’t take long after the abbreviated tour for me to get a bit impatient and jump his bones.

We used his bedroom naturally.

Uber worked his natural magic, though thankfully didn’t try the pointless effort to seduce me, but he had clearly used his power to focus on the art and skill of mind blowing good sex.

It was amazing how much that involved that didn’t mean actual penetrative sex - which was why we could stretch it out for just over an hour, without me having to worry about fucking him to death.

It was an hour of bliss and pleasure wrapped up in each other in a seemingly never ending loop, which banished any thought of blood, guts and that SCP out of my head.

That he quickly fell asleep after our session concluded was not surprising, he had a whole day behind him and hadn’t counted on me coming out of the blue to fulfill our ongoing contract a day early.

He had surprised me initially with the spooning, but then the comfy, delicious and relaxing sensation of having a beefcake like Uber embracing me like this hit my brain.

Yeah, I didn’t want to get up.

It figured that something like this would be a way for me to mentally relax and unwind.

I spent the remaining hours until sunrise like this, watching videos on the sharing sites with subtitles on. Uber had thankfully given me access to the house Wi-Fi, so I hadn’t killed off all the data on my phone in the process.

A slight change in his breathing pattern and my ass getting poked with a steadily hardening cock meant he had a morning stiffy and was awake.

“Good morning,” I said idly, continuing to watch.

His answer took a while to come and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his right hand, lifting his arm off me in the process, something that my instincts definitely objected to. I was tempted to grab that arm and put it back where it belonged.

“Morning,” he grumped, his head thumping back onto his pillow. “You’re still here?”

“Should I not be?” I returned lightly.

“Uh, no, it’s just… a surprise. A nice one. Usually, you’re just… wham, bam, thank you, sir.”

“After the night I had…” I said hesitantly. There was no way I was talking about this with Uber, someone who was just technically a ‘business partner’ with extra benefits. “Leet will tell you details, I really don’t want to even think about that bloody train. I just… I guess I wanted to be comforted after that shit night and you’re also very good at that. Thank you.”

“Well,” his arm laid on my waist again and a large hand started to slowly caress my stomach. “It was a pleasure.”

I enjoyed the attention and the feelings of his chest and abs on my back as he talked. Even his now rock hard member that had now slipped between the cheeks of my butt wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, it felt… right. Though there really should be a few more to…

I firmly interrupted that line of thinking. Was I seriously longing for a bloody harem of men?

We kept the comfy and pleasurable thing going, whilst I switched on the audio to the phone and we both ended up watching and vegging out to my video sharing feed for another half an hour.

Uber groaned at one point though and untangled himself, “Sorry, nature’s call.”

I had to smother a giggle as he walked out of the bedroom with his erect dick sticking forward like a lance. I pondered the mechanics for a brief moment; either he was going to make a mess or he had some mental trick of ridding himself of an erection rather quickly.

The very characteristic tune of the Mario Brothers game interrupted me. It took me a moment of glancing around the room to find the source. A clearly Tinkertech phone that was on Uber’s side of the bed.

“Uber! Phone!” I shouted.

“Shit! Uh, fuck, answer it with the red button and typing in 439130 afterwards! That’ll be Leet!”

“And what am I supposed to say to him?!”

“Just explain the deal, he’s checking in from the Protectorate, ouch!”

I didn’t want to know why or how he caused himself pain, but I picked up the phone. It had all the modern amenities you’d expect, but was rather blocky and flashy, almost looking like something that you’d expect to see as a prop from an 80’s era sci-fi show. The moment that thought clicked in my head, I recognized just where this phone drew its inspiration.

I went through the procedure Uber outlined and placed it to my ear, “Hello, Leet?”

There was a long silence on the other end, “Escort?”

“Yes, Leet.”

“I thought… well, since you’re still there and Uber gave you the code, things are good?”

That was pretty clever. The duo had accounted for anyone getting hands on each other’s phones and the code was also a form of master-stranger signal or non-duress code.

“All fine here, Uber’s a bit stuck in the bathroom at the moment with a… morning problem.”

“Oh, yes. Well, I’ll wait on the line until he’s back. So you and he…” he trailed off uncomfortably.

“Of course, it’s not like our deal stated I have to wait for you both. This just means I owe you one.”

“Yes, okay, cool…”

We trailed off into an awkward silence.

“How are things going there with the train?” I asked a bit desperately.

“Frustrating and slow. If you fought this thing at full tilt, well, props to you.”

“How many train cars does it have now?”

“Fifteen.”

I looked up into the ceiling of the bedroom, resisting the urge to let out some rather colorful dockworker style invective. “That’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

“Yeah, we figured out pretty quickly to treat this thing like a pressure cooker. They’re letting the train eject shit from the last car, whilst getting the rest steadily sealed up with a combo of lead and confoam. I also helped design something with Armsmaster and Dragon, which should nicely deal with scrubbing the radiation byproducts in the containment area. Biggest issue now is figuring out a way to safely move the thing when the dedicated containment is built.”

Uber, still naked, rushed into the bedroom, rubbing his wet hands together from a wash to help dry it off.

“Here’s Uber,” I said and handed over the phone.

He grabbed it, typed in another code, before putting it to his ear, “Yo bro, what’s up? You cool?” He sat down on the bed as he listened to his partner’s response. “Uh huh, good. Yeah… Dude, she hasn’t got out of bed yet… Yes, I’m sure…  No, I didn’t take her downstairs…  Yes, still wearing the domino mask, even slept with it…  Seriously dude, usually I’m the one who’s the security freak… Okay, when you’re coming back? Need a lift?” He listened for a bit. “Okay. See you soon then. Cheers bro.”

Uber tapped the phone, entering another code before dumping it on his bed stand.

“Is he coming back soon?” I asked curiously.

“He’s staying at the quarantine site, they’ve set up modular apartments with the basic stuff for all the people who need to be close in case of emergency. He pulled an all-nighter, so’s going to sleep there. Truce is holding so far, though they’ve only really needed to use it for Leet and Squealer.”

“She’s there?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah, the Protectorate approached her. She’s a vehicle specialized Tinker after all. I’d imagine if they can’t pull off some form of teleportation and they’re forced to move that train conventionally, that she’d be just the Tinker you want to build something that can carry it.”

“Makes sense I suppose,” I mused staring into my phone.

“So, I’m curious, given the whole succubus-lite thing-”

“I’m not a succubus,” I snapped in irritation.

“Okay, fair enough, but how long between… would be safe?” he trailed off uncomfortably.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and looked at him with true sight. It was actually a good question in retrospect. I’d given them a two day period between visits just to give me some time off from them and figured it was enough for them to regain strength and vitality. Actually making heads or tails of what I was seeing in his aura with regards to his essence and vitality was very iffy.

“You need to get some breakfast in you, then maybe a few hours after that. It’s not like my powers and problems came with a user manual. It’d actually be a good experiment to run.”

“You got somewhere to be today?” he asked pointedly.

“Not specifically,” I shrugged. There was some GED work I wanted to finish off and further research on Leet’s power, but it could be postponed given what we were going to test.

“Okay, house is open to you, except the basement. If you wanna go outside, keep it in that direction,” he pointed north-east. “That way the house shields you from passing golfers.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He nodded, hopped out of bed, and vanished out the door.

My phone buzzed with an incoming message from dad. I had kept him updated on everything via text and a quick phone call last night. It was more than likely that he did not have a good night’s rest behind him, knowing that I had been not only involved in an A-class incident, but had also spent the night at a villain’s lair, however justified and logical it was.

I spent nearly ten minutes coming up with a text that could get across my intentions but would be vague enough that it wouldn’t really raise any alarm bells should the text be read by a third party.

Armsmaster had hacked the thing in moments last night, so I had to at minimum assume that he would continue to have access to the phone, the number and any device that used the SIM chip associated with it.

Would he share that with the Protectorate or keep it to himself? It was probably prudent to get a second burner phone for clandestine calls and just keep the current one as my unsecured public facing phone.

I got up and left the phone to continue its charge and grabbed ‘15 automatically. I’d definitely have to talk to the sentient pipe about its opinions and observations on the SCP train, to check if I missed something.

My eye next caught the mess we’d left on the queen sized bed and I winced. I did tend to leave a bit of mess in the wake of my orgasms. I grabbed a corner of the soiled sheets and pulled them off, bunching them up and headed off to dump it at a downstairs laundry room that I vaguely remembered seeing.

I took a bit of a roundabout route, but eventually found the kitchen where a still naked Uber was grabbing eggs from their large silver fridge.

“Don’t need to do that,” he gestured to the sheets under my arm with a fork.

“I know I’m technically a guest, but it’s just… my mom raised me as a bit of a neat freak.”

He gestured to the laundry room, “Go ahead then.”

I dumped the sheets in a slightly overflowing basket of clothes, before heading back and passed Uber starting off what had to be an omelet.

“Gotta ask, what’s the deal with the pipe? You’ve always got that thing in sight.” He began to beat the eggs with a dexterity that wouldn’t be out of place in a professional chef, then throwing a pinch of fine salt into it.

I took a seat on a tall barstool at the marble kitchen top where he was working, more out of fascination with the clear skill on display. All the while, my mind was working on how best to answer in a way that would be believable, yet not betray its nature as an SCP, not that Uber had any inkling of what that was.

“The best way to describe this thing, is an improvised Tinkertech weapon that dropped in my lap so to speak. It can fire aerokinetic blasts at varying strengths.”

He nodded as he began heating up a pan, “Escort, you’re completely safe here, you could so kick my ass if I-”

“It’s not that,” I assured him with a smile, waving off his concern. “It has a quirk you could say. It keeps growing in length, unless it’s being observed.”

Uber’s eyes widened behind his small mask and briefly stared at ‘15 with a wary look, before focusing on his task, spreading butter on the pan. “I’ve seen Tinkertech do crazy bullshit things, but that’s a new one. So that’s why you keep it with you at all times, it’s not out of paranoia.”

“Yeah, it’s already grown an inch from its original length due to circumstances where I was unable to arrange for it,” I explained, as he was now using a basting brush to ensure perfect coverage of the steadily melting butter. “It was probably intended as an experiment, trying to make a pipe that could adjust itself as needed to changing conditions.”

“Any chance the Tinker that made it will come looking?” he asked, as he pulled down a cook’s apron and put it on. This hid the beefcake eye candy and yet also made it more titillating somehow.

I looked out the expansive windows towards the rolling plains of perfectly manicured grass and trees to distract myself.

“Anything is possible in this world, but I doubt it,” I answered.

Uber continued to make his omelet, which I observed and learned quite a few cooking tricks and techniques from. Sure I couldn’t eat the stuff, but I still did my turn in the kitchen to cook food for dad. There was no way I could quickly replicate the skill Uber was showing here, as the omelet looked heavenly and would be easily accepted as a dish from a Michelin rated restaurant.

Another little problem that I quickly became aware of, was that watching Uber work in the kitchen only wearing that apron was probably a mistake, in retrospect. It had steadily been heating me up and I could feel wetness between my legs.

“Want a bite?” he offered, holding out a piece of omelet speared on his fork. He probably misinterpreted my look and intense interest.

I flinched backward automatically and held up my hands, “No, uh, sorry. It looks delicious I’m sure, but in this respect, when it comes to food, the succubus thing applies to me.”

“You can’t eat this… human food?”

“Well, I can technically eat it, but it’s just super bad tasting to me and I’ll throw it up if I try.”

Uber looked at the piece of omelet and ate it quickly before it could fall off the fork, “That… must be frustrating. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.”

“But I do cook, explaining further goes beyond cape life,” I gave him a pointed look. He nodded in understanding. “Anyway, thanks for the pointers, I’m gonna take a walk outside.”

He waved and continued to eat.

I quickly ran upstairs to grab my phone, then emerged from the house and into the cool refreshing morning air. In front of me was perfect grass for a dozen feet before it became a line of pine trees that led into a small forest of sorts on this side of the estate property. There was a patio here with deck chairs, but with the sun at this low angle in the early morning, everything was in shadow. So I decided to go for a relaxing walk through the little forest. It would be just what the doctor ordered to help further soothe my mental state.

It wouldn’t be much of a walk in terms of distance, but I extended it considerably by just walking a circle around each tree and tracing a looping lap through the small forest.

When I reached the end of my haphazard lap and was back at the tree line I realized I didn’t need to worry about being seen actually, except by the estate residents themselves. There wasn’t a soul on the golf course at the moment. It was early morning on a Wednesday and the city residents were still reeling from the declared emergency. A quick check on my phone also confirmed that a general non-essential travel restriction had been announced by the Mayor’s office. That effectively gave everyone a day off from work or school.

I emerged from the little forest and strode out onto the perfectly manicured grass of a fairway.

A slight thrill shot down my spine.

Nudity was a state of being for me at this point, but always in the back of my mind was the worry about the roll of the dice when someone inevitably encountered me.

Would they be accepting? Indifferent? Fascinated? Shocked? Angry? Would they recognize me as Escort?

I made it to the other side of the fairway and into the tree line there and continued onward, just exploring and walking.

It was nice.

It couldn’t compare to the feeling of freedom that unfettered flight gave me, but this was a more normal freedom that I only now realized I had been missing. To just pick a direction and walk. Something I couldn’t do from home without risking Escort being linked to that address. Dad couldn’t drive me anywhere without me having to hide myself for a similar reason. I couldn’t appear in public with him anywhere.

My musings were interrupted though by my nose.

It was a familiar smell, though there was a tangy nuance to it that confused me. The slight breeze that tickled my skin was coming from my right. I gave another sniff of the air, yes, definitely coming from the boundary tree line between the two fairways.

I misted and with no hurry at all moved through the trees as I imagined a ghost would. It was a few hundred yards of such relaxed movement until I spotted the origin of this scent.

A young guy sat against a tree, wearing a partially unzipped blue overall with the logo of the estate emblazoned on the back. He had well tanned skin and short, bleach blonde hair, with blue eyes that stared out into the distance. With that expression he was either thinking heavy thoughts or trying to not think at all. Given that he was currently busy smoking a hand rolled joint of weed, I was leaning towards the latter.

I hovered about him, inspecting him from multiple angles. The calloused hands, the smell of earth and grass clinging to him, yep, he was a ‘landscaping engineer’. His overalls also had a visible name tag sewn on its chest - S. Miller.

My mind debated about how I was going to approach this for a few moments before I settled on a plan.

I demisted on the other side of the tree and leaned my back against it casually, then pulled my left leg up so my foot also rested against it.

“Beautiful morning for a smoke,” I commented idly.

Miller jumped onto his feet so fast in fright, that it was almost like I had tased him on the ass. He barely kept a hold of his joint and whirled around, trying to find where my voice had come from. It didn’t take him long to walk around the tree in search and he froze when he spotted me.

“Hello,” I gave him a friendly, almost flirty wave of my hand and fingers.

He visibly swallowed and just stared at me with wide eyes, drinking in the image of me. He stayed stupefied this way for a long few seconds before shaking himself and some intelligence crept back into his eyes.

“Uh… miss, you really shouldn’t be out here… like that.”

“And you shouldn’t be smoking something illegal,” I retorted with a half-grin. He looked down at the joint with a wince. “However, we’re both doing something we’re clearly enjoying and using it to relax. The only reason I interrupted you, is because I think someone has spiked your weed.”

He frowned for a moment, skepticism written clear on his face, “How can you know?”

I tapped my nose, “I have an excellent sense of smell and having gone to a high school in the seedier parts of town, I know. You should also have a more substantial breakfast than a bowl of Rice Krispies, considering your profession by the way.”

He kept frowning but now held up the joint to his own nose, sniffing the base. Then shook his head, “That was just a lucky guess on my breakfast. It’s possible though, I normally only smoke one, but this is my third already this morning. Fuck, I go to him because I want natural weed, now he goes and laces it to make me use more… the fucker.”

“Your dealer’s getting greedy.”

“Fuck man, he was one of the few good ones left,” he groused and stepped close to the tree to snuff the joint out. Then he spotted ‘15, which I was keeping somewhat concealed, by my side against the tree and he took in how my hair fell over my face. The light of recognition dawned and he gaped at me, “You’re… you’re Escort? That new cape?”

“In the flesh, I suppose,” I smiled.

“Wow, just… What are you doing here? You’re not seriously going to arrest me for smoking a joint?”

“No, on the scale of things that I worry about, that is very low on my priority list, I can assure you Mr Miller. As I said, I just wanted to relax after last night’s action and this is where my feet took me, so to speak.”

“To me? A guy who has to pay his way through college as a gardener?” he asked incredulously.

“My nose led me to you, as I said. I smelled your spiked weed and thought, ‘Might as well get my good deed for the day, out of the way.’ And what’s wrong with being a gardener?”

“It’s… a gardener? That’s not exactly something to write home about or brag to girls about.”

I nodded, “That is an unfortunate perception, though without people like you, places like this can’t exist, where I can walk and relax like this.”

He looked at me for a moment then shifted his gaze down the length of the fairway. “Yeah, I suppose not. It’s what I study, exterior landscaping and my official title is an exterior technician. Very fancy, but at the end of the day, still just a student and glorified gardener.”

“Is this what you enjoy doing?” I countered, still seeing how hard he was being on himself. His aura was burning with a mix of anger, embarrassment, determination and a slowly increasing arousal in the distant background.

“Yes,” he answered flatly.

“You’re pretty lucky in that respect,” I said, as something my mom had said to me long ago popped back to the surface. “Any girl who can’t bring themselves to look past your chosen profession, do you think they’re truly worthy of you?”

Miller kept just staring down the fairway and eventually nodded, seeing my point. “So I’ve got a built-in filter to find the good ones.”

“Indeed, if finding someone you can present to the family is what you’re looking for.”

His eyes locked onto mine. “So, is it true that you’re…” he visibly struggled to express the word.

“A prostitute, whore, working girl? The latter is the currently accepted polite term. Yes, I am.”

He frowned, staring into the ground at my feet now, his aura coloured with honest confusion, “Why? I mean, you’re a cape, you don’t have to… you can leave all that.”

My smile turned wan, “I can’t do that, nor can I really explain. No one is forcing me, leave it at that.”

Now his aura colored with nervousness and even fear, “Sorry, that ventured in the wrong direction.”

“Not a problem, now I probably should let you get back to work. It was a pleasure to meet you. Stay safe.”

I set off, intending to resume my relaxing walk, but he held up a hand, “Wait please. I just…” he swallowed reflexively, licking his lips from a case of dry mouth, nerves and even shyness dominated his psyche at this point. “Can… can I hire you?” he blurted out.

“Here? Now?” I gave him a raised eyebrow. He nodded and looked around the empty fairway and trees as if making doubly sure that there was no one around. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the clock?”

“Yeah, a green that needs adjustment today, but it’s not going anywhere, it’s not urgent and I’m the only tech on duty today, since I live in the staff housing here mostly.”

“You have 300 on you, cash?” His shoulders slumped and shook his head. “Tell you what, Miller, you know where the Red Light is?”

“Yes.” The poor dear was just short of shaking like a leaf, his aura just a bundle of excited anxiousness and fear. This could mean only one thing.

“Tomorrow evening, I’ll be there. You got wheels?”

“Yeah,” he coughed and cleared his throat.

“Type?”

“Just an old Ford pickup, blue.”

“Okay, drive through the Red Light at seven in the evening, I’ll find you.”

“Sure… I’ll be there.”

I gave him another flirty wave and wink before misting and flying into the air.

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“What’s the verdict?”

It was now three hours after Uber had his breakfast and we were back in their large kitchen. It was time that he had mostly spent downstairs in their lair, but he came back up on the hour for me to evaluate how he was recovering with true sight.

After my walk around the estate, I had contented myself by passing the time by reading a book I’d uploaded onto my phone, whilst laying down on a couch in the house’s entertainment room. Not my preferred way to read anything but it would do in a pinch.

I looked Uber’s form up and down, taking in his aura. Amusingly he had still not put on any clothes and naturally I wasn’t complaining.

“Well, I wasn’t sure at one hour, but now, there’s a definite improvement here,” I stared at the barbs and motes radiating outward, which then curled back into his aura. It was almost as if he was a sun in that respect, and the strength and ‘brightness’ of it was almost back to ‘normal’.

“Should I eat something again, just a snack?”

“If you want, but I think this is pretty conclusive.”

“Okay, maybe an apple- oof!”

I grinned into his face, as my legs locked around his waist and my arms circled around his neck and shoulders. Uber rolled with it, catching me and chuckled at my eagerness.

He caught my lips with his and I spent a decent amount of time trying to wrestle his tongue with my own, before we fell into a back and forth of various kissing techniques. If there was one benefit I got out of my arrangement with the duo, then it was getting taught and experiencing sexual techniques from someone who could use his power to become very good at it.

His rising erection poked my butt at this point and I broke the kiss.

I secured myself with my left arm around his back and reached down between us with my right hand, grabbing his dick to align it properly.

Then I used my knees to relax down and spear myself on him.

The pleasure of the act radiated outward through my body and I hissed as he used his waist to finish pushing himself completely into me.

He let me have a few seconds of just experiencing the bliss I got from this. If I could, I’d just happily sit like this for hours.

Then he started rolling his hips, combined with a slight in and out thrust.

“Fuuuhhhh…” I strained and managed to cut my expletive off as the pleasure hit my brain.

He smiled and pulled the embrace deeper, my breasts mushing against his pecs. The sensation of that hit something deep and primal. Then his lips began trailing kisses up my neck until he reached just under my ear and both kissed and licked there. He began the journey down, using suction this time, leaving me with clear hickies. All this combined whilst he was ramming into me was assaulting my senses deliciously.

I let this go on for a bit, riding the waves, then joined in the efforts.

Using my legs I met his thrusts and flexed with my vaginal muscles. He groaned, gasped and hissed as I tested his brinkmanship.

In response he shifted his head and locked his lips on mine again, plunging his tongue into my mouth.

The slaps of flesh on flesh echoed through the kitchen and we both groaned throatily as we found ourselves fighting against the current that was threatening to carry us away into our climaxes.

I tried every mental trick I had, short of imagining disgusting things that would totally kill my mood.

Finally, Uber lost the battle.

He broke the kiss and gasped, his hips surging forward and penetrating me as far he could, twitching and shooting his cum into me. I sensed the energy of his climax and his seed also blossomed into my awareness as it was taken.

I let this sensation carry me forward as well and I moaned throatily as I reached the summit, drenching his lower stomach and legs with my own juices.

Uber visibly winced and walked us a bit backwards so he could lean against the kitchen counter.

“Sorry, but only normal human stamina here,” he said, still breathing hard.

It took me a few more moments to get my voice back as well, “No problem.”

I opened my true sight fully and focused inwards. There it was again. I was keeping him hard and erect in me, but with a net energy coming towards my side. Could it be possible to equalize this? Taper it off so that it wouldn’t drain so quickly.

I threw my will into the effort, trying to throw off any conception that it wouldn’t be possible. I was a being of thaumaturgy incarnate. I could do this.

My phone began ringing.

“Fuck!” I swore as my concentration broke just as I felt something happen.

I glared at the phone where it was perched inside its pouch on ‘15, just to my left and leaning on the kitchen counter.

Uber chuckled at my venomous expression.

I gave him my best grumpy face in response and reached over, but of course, it wasn’t close enough.

“You really like just staying like this, don’t you?” he grinned widely.

“Please?” I asked him in my best cutesy voice, even trying a mock pout.

That drew a full laugh and he briefly took up my full weight again to move me closer to ‘15 and my phone. I kept a close eye on the energy transfer. I had been too startled last time to really do this, but it wasn’t as bad as I had feared. I wasn’t going to drain him dry in less than a minute. I tried to pinch off the flow again…

There! Oh yes! I almost wanted to cum again just from that little victory. At this rate… fifteen, twenty minutes maybe? Before I’d have to remove his dick from within me. I’d have to keep a close eye on it.

Now with phone in hand, I glanced at the screen and frowned at the display giving me ‘Unknown Number’ as it continued to ring.

Even Armsmaster’s hacked call to this phone had delivered a long string of numbers. Then there was the fact that the number of people who had this number was very few as yet and none of them would use a means of calling that caused this. Did my number get grabbed by those annoying spam callers somehow?

Something, some instinct was telling me that I couldn’t afford to miss this call…

I thumbed the answer button before it could go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Escort.”

The voice was unfamiliar and the tone of it sent shivers down my spine. It was flat, almost emotionless, yet had an undercurrent of anger.

“Yes, who is this?”

“That is not important or any concern of yours. All that you need to know is that you will be at 235 Thatcher Street in twenty minutes. Failure will result in unpleasant and irrevocable consequences for a certain Daniel Hebert.”

The world seemed to stop making sense at that point and my head was spinning. It also felt like my stomach had turned to a black hole. I also had to consciously relax the hand that was holding the phone, lest I crush it in my grip. My mouth was suddenly dry and I had to consciously focus and work my tongue to remedy that annoyance so I could speak. My brain also suddenly felt like its gearbox had jammed.

Uber flinching and jostling me as he also reacted to what the voice was saying managed to jolt my thoughts in some semblance of order and intelligence. We were so close that there was no hiding what the speaker was saying.

His eyes burned and his jaw worked in anger and he mouthed the word ‘Proof’ silently.

“How- how do I know you’ve really got him?”

My phone dinged with a message. I turned it around and tapped on the notification.

The picture that downloaded agonizingly slowly through the MMS service was unmistakable.

Dad, without his glasses, bound, gagged, tied to a chair, clear bruising on his face from punches and he glared at the cameraman. The clothes he was wearing… nothing seemed wrong or out of place, except for the entire fucked up situation. The flash of the camera and the focus used made everything in the background of the shot an unrecognizable blur.

Uber next mouthed, ‘speak’.

It took me a moment to click what he meant. “You can fake a photo, let me speak to him.”

“One moment,” said the cold voice. There was rustling, as if the phone was passing through hands or being jostled. “Speak to your daughter,” the voice was distant now.

There was only silence.

Then the meaty slap of a fist on flesh, a grunt of pain.

“This is so unnecessary, Mr Hebert. You endure for nothing.” More slaps, punches and grunts. I even heard the woosh of someone getting the wind knocked out of their lungs. A moan of pain. “Speak! Mr Hebert!”

Then there was the sound of someone spitting the mother of all wet loogies at someone.

There was a deathly silence.

The phone was jostled again and the abductor's voice came through clear, “He is being very obstinate. It seems he is truly willing to die. Perhaps that will convince you of the situation, given that I am also aiming a silenced pistol directly at this head. Can you truly take the chance that I am lying?”

Then the line went dead.

I could barely keep a hold of the phone and Uber thankfully snatched it out of my nerveless hands.

“Escort, listen to me… Escort! Focus.”

It was very difficult. It was like I was hovering outside my body at the moment, looking down, still latched onto Uber like a limpet.

“Escort!”

I blinked and snapped, “What?”

“Don’t you think you should… umm, I can’t exactly pull out of you at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I relaxed my vaginal muscles and pulled myself off him, before getting my feet under me and on the floor again, but I made no move to really pull out of his embrace.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully. This is nightmare scenario number one for every cape with a family. It’s happening to you. That’s shit. The worst thing you can do now is play right into this bastard’s hands. You hear me?”

I glared at him, but my emotions made rational thought the furthest thing from my mind now.

I was going to lose dad as well.

What he said next managed to return more of my brain back to me.

“I also have a good idea who this is.”

“Who?” My eyes snapped to him and he visibly flinched.

“It’s most likely, Coil, mistress,” he said with a bowed head.

I had pulled him into the mind web in my fury.

I took a deep breath in and out, mastered myself, then pushed Uber’s mind out.

“Sorry, Uber.”

He shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs. “Fuck, easy with that. I’m definitely on your side here and now, Escort. Coil has pissed on the Unwritten Rules, and it's essentially the duty of every cape in town to come down on him like a ton of bricks.”

“How do you know it’s him? As far as I know, Coil is just a low level Thinker who has a spattering of territory in the south-west of the city.”

“That’s the image he cultivates. The villains of the Bay know better. No one’s really sure what his power is. Just that he’s a powerful enough Thinker that allows him to fight off the entire Empire roster with a large force of mercenaries that he employs and outfits with the best equipment money can buy. As for why it’s him? No one else fits in terms of MO.”

I stepped out of his embrace and thought furiously… getting precisely nowhere.

“Why me? Why do this?”

“That’s not a question you can worry about now,” he shook his head. “Think instead on how we’re getting your old man back in one piece. Stay here. Don’t leave yet. You need intel and to try and phone him.”

He rushed out of the kitchen and his feet thumped on the stairs.

I tried my best to dump my emotions, and not crumble into a pile of uselessness that wanted to just cry and waste time. It wasn’t easy. I picked up the phone and with shaking hands managed to navigate to dad’s number and dial.

The steady tone of ringing greeted my ear.

One ring, two, three…

A pause… four rings, five, six.

I gave it a full precious twenty seconds before the voicemail answered.

I closed the line, put the phone down and with all the will and focus I could muster, turned every feeling into energy that wouldn’t be wasted on pointless swearing.

Think!

Why would this seemingly minor villain ignore the unwritten rules to this extent? Why did he have such a personal beef with me that he would do this? Both were useless questions. Questions that only Coil could answer.

I wrenched my thoughts into the singular desire that I had right now.

How do I save dad?

Go to the address, kick ass, Master everyone, get dad out of there, then get them to take me to Coil and kick his ass!

Wait… would dad even be at the address?

If Coil had such a personal beef with me, why even give me the opportunity? No, dad would not be there.

Uber rushed back into the kitchen with an open laptop in hand. He breathed a sigh of relief at seeing me. “Good, you’re still here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I need that intel and I welcome the help.”

He shook his head, “You’re still a relative rookie, Escort. Most others would’ve already been flying off the handle and playing straight into this bastard’s hand.” He placed the laptop in front of me on the kitchen counter. It was displaying a top down public satellite image of the address in question.

“Okay, take a look. The address is for a bankrupt old car dealership, hasn’t been demolished yet.” He tapped the screen a few times and the image distorted and resolved to show a street level view. “See, the building is almost literally just glass to display and show off the cars to everyone passing by. That means anyone in there is literally sniper fodder. Which is exactly how you take out a Mover of your caliber, Escort. You lure them to a prepared position then nail them with a high velocity sniper rifle.” He tapped the screen again to return to the top down satellite view at a scale of about two miles. “Here, here, here and here. That’s where I’d put the sniper perches with interlocking fields of fire.”

“And my dad won’t even be there,” I pointed out.

Uber blinked in surprise and grinned, “That’s good. You’re thinking. Yes. Your dad is too valuable against you to just put him in the crossfire like that. They’ve probably got the best disguised body double they could find tied up there to pull you in. Your dad is still snug in Coil’s base… wherever that is. If the snipers fail, the entire place is also wired to blow as a failsafe as well.”

“How sure are you?”

Uber shrugged, “It’s what I’d do and I’ve been pulling on my power for hostage rescue and SWAT techniques as best I can. I’ve also seen this play out before in various ways.”

“What about if I just… don’t show? Nothing he’s shown me couldn’t have been faked or staged. He’s a Thinker.”

He shook his head. “That’s where he’s got you over a barrel. The chances that he’d fake this to get to you is very slim. You put the word out on the cape grapevine about this and he’s fucked. He’d unite the entire city’s cape community against him and no amount of Thinking or fancy mercs will help him with that much firepower and resources gunning for him. This is an all or nothing play, Escort. Something about you has gotten his panties in a bunch. To the point where he’s decided he can’t coexist with you in this city.”

I nodded, then pointed to the laptop, “Can I borrow that?”

“Nope, I’ll do better than that old thing.” He held out to me something that looked like a bit of a clunky white earpiece, which had a curved section that slid over your eye with a transparent green screen. It looked very familiar, but I couldn’t spare the thought to figure out from what pop media the duo had built this from. “Put that on your right ear, it’ll hold itself in place.”

I did as he asked and felt a mild suction effect the moment the edges of the earpiece touched my head. I let go and sure enough, it stayed there. Thankfully, my skin also didn’t rebel against it.

The screen over my right eye flashed then went through a boot-up sequence in blurring characters that flashed by.

It gave me a HUD of sorts and an aiming reticle that followed my eyes at first, but then zoomed down out of sight.

“It’s calibrating. If you had a gun, it would show you where you were aiming with it, but that isn’t how you roll. No, with this I can keep in touch with you securely, feed you intel, and you will be able to see through the Snitch.”

He handed over the famous piece of tech that they used to do their live streams.

“Leet’s going to kill you,” I predicted.

“Probably, but this is important, Escort. Such a flagrant violation of the Unwritten Rules hasn’t happened for years and years. Besides, I’m going to be controlling the Snitch from here, you’re just going to let it go when you get to where you’re going.”

I nodded and hurried over to ‘15, grabbing the sentient pipe and took a deep breath.

“Escort…”

“Yeah, Uber?”

“Don’t die.”

My teeth gnashed in anxiousness, “I won’t.”

I misted, phased myself through the intervening matter and soared into the air, turning south-east.

Stay strong, dad. I’m coming.

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A/N: Poor Taylor, barely got some peace and quiet and it all came crashing down. Tried for a bit of slice of life, but my muse demands plot/action :-)

The Force Wills - Chapter 47

He slammed his fist on the armrest and immediately regretted it.

The holo in front of him showed that they would win this battle and lose the war. The Providence dreadnought was trying to shed as much orbital velocity as quickly as it could. The projected line of its course cut through the holo like a vibroknife, before settling to a point where it would eventually crash into the ocean just four hundred kilometers southeast of Tipoca City.

Wullf threw up the projected intercepts of his own fleet as it thundered towards the enemy.

The projections were damning.

They’d have less than four minutes.

Four minutes of time under the guns and torpedoes of just half the fleet to kill a dreadnought. The left flank was just spread out too far and would not reach gun range in time. Now the tactic of fleet dispersion was coming back to bite them. Right when they needed the greatest concentration of fire, they couldn’t have it.

Finally, the enemy crept into extreme gun range.

No order was needed at this point. Every single crewman in the entire fleet knew what was at stake.

Eight Venators and four Acclamators began firing every turbolaser that would reach out that far.

His head did the math in moments; twelve quad turbolasers on the Acclamators, eight dual heavies on the Venators.

The first hits began smashing into the forward armor of the dread.

Flashes, explosions, clouds of durasteel erupted outward, but just like with the Malevolence months before, this class of the Providence dreadnought had thick enough armor and advanced metallurgy to take these hits and keep going.

Then to make life even more difficult, the dread began maneuvering, slowly bringing its nose around to present the fresh starboard shields towards the Republic fleet and transfer its aft shields to port. Essentially undoing all the work they had already accomplished.

“Torpedoes fire again!”

The duel of torpedo and missile against AA erupted into space again.

Wullf couldn’t help but suddenly be reminded of a firework display he had attended what felt like a lifetime ago on Hosnian Prime.

The torrent of fire that the dreadnought and the remaining Munificents surrounded itself with was almost pretty to look at.

“Forty-four!” shouted the Sensor tech with triumph.

He quickly selected the torpedoes in his holo and sent fourteen to intercept one of the escorting Munificents whilst throwing the rest at the dreadnought.

Then the enemy did something that honestly surprised Wulff.

The torpedo impacts lit up space with flashes of light and energy, followed soon by not one but two Munificents exploding with shockwaves, brief fire that was immediately snuffed out by the vacuum of space and debris.

It took nearly ten precious seconds of studying the data and what he was seeing of the aftermath to make sense of what had happened.

The enemy had used a Munificent to shield the dread, sacrificing it, steering the frigate at the last possible moment directly to take the thirty torpedoes for its bigger fleet mate. It would only take twelve or so torpedoes, but the resulting explosion killed the rest.

Time was running out and the range was closing.

With every second, dozens of kilometers were shaved off the distance that turbolaser blasts had to travel, hitting the dreadnought’s shields with ever greater strength.

The race was now to see what would give in first.

The Providence now only had a single Munificent left as its escort, their AA strength would be vastly less effective.

“Fighters, fire now!”

The shields of the dread were constantly being lit up with the turbolaser fire from the Republic fleet now, pricking steadily away at their strength.

Torpedoes and missiles streaked into the night desperately.

“Seventy two!”

Wullf focused on the holo, holding up his hand to the side of his head to shield his eyes from the flashes.

The sheer violence of titanic energies being released and dispersed sometimes beggared the imagination. It was something he was long used to, but there were times in battle that sometimes he felt like he was back at naval school on Prefsbelt, being awed at the forces that a modern navy could throw around in this era.

“The dread’s shields are down!”

Wullf didn’t have the heart to reprimand the sensor tech, nor the bridge crew for shaking their fists in triumph, even though they knew they had just now cleared the first hurdle in killing the monster that threatened their home.

Turbolasers began digging into the armor again.

Only for the dread to retaliate for its lost shields by lashing out in a massive single barrage from all the heavy quad and dual turbolasers that it could bring to bear.

The Acclamator assault ship Intruder was there one moment and the next simply erupted into an explosion of light, fire and debris.

“Admiral, you need to fire Resolute’s main gun.”

He turned to Ahsoka’s holo, “Commander, we only get one shot. If we fire and that dread is still there…”

“I understand, Admiral. That is why you must target this spot.”

A scan diagram of the Providence appeared, highlighting a target point just before the main rear blister of the dreadnought, where its central cylinder adjoined to the engineering blister.

“Why there?”

“It’ll take too long to explain, admiral. Seconds count here. Fire there, now.”

He nodded, “Guns, target those coordinates, fire the instant you can.”

“Yes, admiral.”

Resolute’s ventral bay doors opened and lowered the main collimator for the composite laser.

The lights began flickering, then dimmed, the ship’s engines stopped their burn as all power from the reactors was dumped into a crash transfer into the giant capacitor banks.

“Attaining a target solution,” reported the Gunner, his hands tapping on his consoles, his eyes squinting and glaring into his screens. “Nav, yaw us three degrees starboard.”

“Three degrees, starboard!”

The silence was oppressive and tense on the bridge as everyone looked to the gunnery station.

Wullf stared at the holo countdown clock as it ticked ever closer to the point where it wouldn’t matter if the dreadnought was destroyed or not. Whether that thing came down in pieces or whether its explosion caused apocalyptic effects on the planet. It would just be a matter of deciding what form of damage to try to live with on Kamino.

“Solution acquired… firing,” the Gunnery officer said with almost a hoarse whisper.

Wulff looked up just in time to see the thick collimated laser beam draw itself through the intervening distance between the dreadnought and Resolute.

For a moment, it looked like the two ships were bizarrely connected.

The entire fleet seemed to hold its breath.

He felt the whine of the capacitors through the ship as they protested their rough treatment.

A massive explosion ripped through the Providence dreadnought, almost propelling it on an opposing heading as it flung masses of armor, components and other debris in the other direction.

“Sensors, damage report on that thing! Guns, recharge for a second shot!” Wullf demanded.

“Massive damage to the enemy. That nearly cut them in half, Admiral. I’m reading reactor fluctuations and system scrams, their primary is down… Targeting pings, their guns are aligning on us, Admiral!”

“Will they be able to fire?”

“I’m reading their heavy turbolasers as still having a full charge.”

Wullf looked up through the transparisteel and stared at his death.

They were close enough now that he could vaguely see the turbolasers guns on that dreadnought pointing and aligning straight towards the Resolute.

It was strange. He’d thought he’d be feeling dread and fear, staring into that specter. Yet, he kept glaring and stared at death with anger and contempt.

Something passed in front of his eyes and it took him a moment to comprehend that it was another ship.

The dreadnought fired.

In front of Resolute, the Venator Star Destroyer Vigil had swooped forward, presented its ventral section…

Wullf looked away as the flash of light and fire heralded the destruction of Vigil. Taking the hit for its fleet mate.

“All shields forward and tractor beams in repulsion mode forward!” he roared.

Resolute coasted forward on its velocity, straight into the rapidly dispersing maelstrom of energies and debris of what had been an entire ship with over four thousand crew.

Her forward shields blossomed into view as a bright blue dome as it waded through that energetic miasma. Large gaps began appearing as invisible tractor beams punched and pushed against the largest sections of debris the clone operators could find and react to.

Finally the ship pushed through and only empty space was ahead.

“Forward shields took a battering, but we’re through,” reported the Engineering officer.

“Time till the main gun can fire?” Wullf asked as he glared at the wounded dreadnought.

“Two minutes for a full power shot, admiral.”

“That’s too long, Guns. We must fire in the next twenty seconds or it won’t matter.”

“I can cut some corners in the charging process. We won’t have a full power shot and we’ll damage the gun, but if I aim it right, I don’t think it will matter.”

“Do it,” Wullf ordered. “Yularen to Group Alpha, redirect your fire to the last Munificent.”

The left flank of the fleet finally got into extreme range and opened fire almost eagerly. The last enemy frigate lasted barely nine seconds under the combined bombardment. It exploded and the debris began pelting the wounded dreadnought, causing secondary explosions, but for the most part it just bounced off the armor.

“Charged, I have a lock,” announced Guns. “Firing.”

The blue collimated laser lashed out again, piercing through the intervening space and stabbed straight at the already wounded section of the dreadnought.

If Wullf had thought the fireworks of the battle so far had been a visual spectacle - this one topped them all.

No one had seen a dreadnought class vessel die for more than a thousand years. He didn’t feel honored at all to be the witness to such a rare thing or to have given the order that led to it, but he was awed.

A light purple shockwave in a perfect sphere attenuated through space, before being followed by a blinding white flash. It was powerful enough to briefly blind sensors and overwhelm their filters, even causing power fluctuations throughout the Resolute’s grid.

When everything came back and the holo cleared, it was to see two massive pieces of a Providence dreadnought flying in opposite directions.

“Track the forward section!” he ordered.

“It got a significant boost from that explosion, admiral. It’s on course to impact the surface, it’ll enter the atmosphere in less than three minutes,” replied Sensors.

“Yularen to the fleet, I want every tractor beam locked on that debris yesterday! If you are not in range, get in range!”

The Venator had a total of six heavy tractor beam projectors, there were currently eight ships that were in range to latch on the piece of dreadnought threatening to deorbit catastrophically.

“All commands are reporting successful locks and tractor beams operational at full power, admiral.”

The lights on the bridge began flickering. “Report.”

The Gunnery officer shook his head in frustration, “Our battle damage is catching up to us, admiral. Combined with the crash charging we did of our main gun, our power grid is under heavy strain.”

“Engineering?”

“We’ve got breakers tripping across the entire ship, admiral. If we keep up this load, we’re going to lose mains and be reduced to auxiliary, perhaps even emergency power.”

“Maintain our tractor locks. We will only lose them when this ship is dead in space, is that understood?”

“Yes, admiral,” the bridge declared in a single voice.

“Nav, do the math, will we make it?”

The navigation officer looked with wide eyes into his screens and monitors, then began working.

It took an agonizing amount of time before the officer spoke again.

“With eight Venators… no. We need the rest of the fleet to link up and put ourselves into maximum reverse for at least 90 seconds.”

“Group Alpha, after this is over I better hear you’ve burned your engines out getting here!” Wullf snapped over the coms.

“Our engines are at 110 percent, admiral!”

“Then go to 120!”

He contented himself with staring into the holo and remonstrating himself in silence. The invisible tractor beams were rendered with rippling waves of blue as they pulled at the massive piece of what had been a dreadnought.

In the holo, the courses of the entire Republic fleet converged on the debris. The icons for each ship closing the distance with agonizing pace, even though he knew that in reality they were probably setting acceleration and speed records for the Venator and as Ahsoka liked to say, ‘Space was big.’

“Observer has a tractor lock, full reverse,” reported the Sensor officer.

Four seconds later…

“Emissary and Behemoth have tractor locks.”

Wulff turned to the Nav officer, who was practically wringing his hands as he was staring into his screens. The officer met his eyes and shook his head.

“Bastion, Pioneer and Typhoon, has achieved lock.”

“Huntress has locked. Admiral, the entire fleet has locks.”

Resolute’s power flickered again as she threw her remaining strength into the forward repulsors and thrusters, whilst keeping the tractor locks as high as they could.

“Come on, come on,” Wullf gnashed his teeth with tension and balled his fists as he stared at the numbers being flashed at him in the holo.

It was like they were fighting the planet they were trying to save, as its gravity eagerly wanted to reclaim this object that had been flung into its influence.

“Admiral, our grid is near collapse,” warned Engineering.

“Then let it collapse, we must give every possible chance for this to work.”

The clock ticked steadily on as the entire Republic fleet pulled and fought against the last effort of the enemy to damage Kamino irrevocably.

The bridge lighting flickered and suddenly Wullf found himself plunged into the darkness. The only light coming from outside the transparisteel windows. He heard the whine of fans steadily slowing down and his stomach rebelled as even artificial gravity failed.

The command chair, which operated on its own independent power supply, engaged its own emergency system and released a crash harness, which Wullf grabbed onto and secured across his waist and shoulders.

Muted lighting returned and his holo restarted.

“We are on emergency power, admiral,” Engineering announced. “Our tractor beams have failed, guns are offline, life support is holding, except the a-grav. We have limited com and sensors.”

He turned to Nav. “Lieutenant?”

The officer squinted into his screens, which were only now stabilizing. “Checking, admiral.”

The clone looked up and met the eyes of his fellow brothers, his mouth open and breathing hard.

“Well? Out with it, man!”

“We- we- we did it!”

The cheers on the bridge were almost deafening.

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It took another full day of sporadic fighting to fully clear out and secure the military complex of every single enemy droid. The battle in space, this time against space junk and debris would also continue for another few weeks at least, to make sure nothing could fall down Kamino’s gravity well again, not to mention clearing out paths for ship traffic.

It was only after nearly a full 24 hours of staying awake, coordinating the battle and even lending a hand to root out droid holdouts that I found myself ushered to Master Shaak Ti’s quarters, given a bed, and told by her in no uncertain terms to sleep for at least eight hours.

My former mentor in togruta culture had a certain motherly streak about her when it came to me, so I tolerated it and gladly passed out for the required time.

I had barely gotten breakfast in me the next day when a meeting was called to discuss the aftermath of the battle and what was learned in it.

We all took a seat in the communication room Master Ti used for her remote sessions on the Jedi Council.

The holo of Mace Windu appeared on one of the chairs. He gave a look around the room and nodded. “Good day to all of you. We received word of your victory and I would just take this opportunity on behalf of the Republic to thank you all and your troops.” Everyone in the room nodded in acknowledgement. “There is no doubt that this battle was a crucial one, the war may have been lost yesterday were it not for your efforts. Yet it also brings about the revelation of new capabilities both technological and tactical that the Separatists are bringing into their war effort.”

“Anything from Republic Intel on how the CIS drove that fleet all around the galaxy?” Obi-wan asked.

My theory on how that was done unfortunately had no hard evidence backing it up as yet. Obi-wan had sent cloaked scouts further along our best guess and had yet to find any sign of the theoretical CIS tanker ships. In addition, it’s not like the hutts would also willingly admit that they had violated the treaty by letting the Seppies access the rimward side of the Trellius.

“Nothing substantive yet has emerged from them regarding that,” Mace answered. “I think it will be a few weeks yet before they can definitively give us any answer. I’m more concerned about both the dreadnought and the observed behavioral changes in the droids.”

“I can give some answers about the droids,” Anakin sighed, rubbing his face wearily. “I’ve managed to review quite a bit of their code we salvaged from destroyed and semi-intact models of the B1s and droidekas. While the hardware is the same cheap, mass produced bantha dung, they have definitely improved on the software side. There are protocols now that will make them seek the nearest available cover, evade and their aim has improved somewhat. It’s a somewhat good attempt to rework the coding into something that someone won’t be embarrassed to put their name on.”

“Did someone actually put their name on it?” Master Ti asked incredulously.

“Not in the traditional sense, this is more like a slicer alias, someone who calls themselves Tremor. Like most high level slicers, they have a bit of an ego, so they made sure to sign their name into the coding.”

“I will have our own slicers look into it,” Mace affirmed. “Now the performance of this dreadnought worries not only me, but Republic R&D and Intel are not taking it well. This ship was not that much larger than a Venator, yet it took a disproportionate effort to destroy one at too high a cost in life.” He turned to me and I sensed that I was being called up to the plate. “Padawan Tano, since you were in overall strategic command at the time, do you have any insight to share?”

I took a moment to get my thoughts in order, “The biggest issue was clearly a form of integrated AA network that operated between all the ships, producing a defense that was better than the sum of its parts. I’m sure that Intel and the kaminoans when they examine the intact pieces of the dreadnought will find some form of point to point directional data linkage. Combine this with computer controlled targeting and you have an active defense AA network that is second to none in the galaxy. The only way to beat it was to absolutely swarm and overwhelm the system with potential targets, then concentrate the fire onto a single ship of the fleet.”

“If that is the case, then it raises the threat profile of their Munificent groupings significantly,” Mace said with a slight frown.

“I also think we have to seriously investigate the metallurgy of the armor on that dreadnought. The last time I saw armor react like that to direct fire from the heavy turbolaser on our Venators, was when we were facing the Malevolence.”

“So it was not just a matter of exceptionally thick armor?” Shaak Ti asked.

“Yes, though it surely helped. There is clearly some new alloy the CIS has developed to throw onto their new builds of ships. Thus far in the war, we have only been fighting ships that can be traced to pre-war production and design. It’s inevitable, given the speed at which they can build and iterate with supervised droid labor, that the Republic Navy will always be somewhat behind the curve of development that the war is inspiring.”

“Yet the experimental composite laser on the Resolute did penetrate this new armor handily,” Anakin pointed out.

“There isn’t much in existence that can withstand such concentrated directed energy,” Obi-wan said dryly. “The issue is that unless we can equip every Venator in the fleet with a composite laser soon, we’re going to come up against new build CIS ships that can handily resist the current generation of turbolasers on our ships. We’re nearing the end of the first year of this war and already we’re looking at our ship’s weapons being potentially obsolete.”

“This is a matter that the Jedi Council will bring directly to the Chancellor’s office, rest assured,” Mace said in a near-ominous tone. “Now, let us speak of the reason for this attack in the first place. Master Kenobi, you placed Knight Skywalker to personally guard the main DNA room, where he was in a perfect position to intercept Ventress. What led you to this decision?”

“This was something that Padawan Tano and myself concluded,” Obi-wan elaborated. “Even with the amount of firepower that the CIS brought to Kamino. The fact that they already had these cloaked Tridents in the water spoke of a plan behind the obvious attack motive. This deception tactic is something that is clearly favored by not only Ventress, but also by their other strategic and tactical planners. It’s a clear pattern that we should always anticipate from them in some form or another.

“As to their motive, only one thing makes sense. If all they wanted was Jango Fett DNA, we have an entire army of them. They can capture or kill them on any battlefield. It’s far easier than launching a multi-billion credit invasion fleet across the galaxy to distract us, while they steal it here on Kamino. No, what they wanted was the original DNA and engineered stem cells which haven't undergone any of the environmental development that the kaminoans give to the clones.”

“I agree with Master Kenobi,” Shaak Ti declared. “With that in hand, the Separatists could conceivably create an engineered virus that is specifically tailored to target only the clone army, with very little to no chance it could affect anyone else. If all they had was a clone’s iterated DNA, then the potential is too great for a mutated variance to develop in the virus.”

“Crippling the GAR in the process,” I continued the probability line. “It’d force the Chancellor to potentially call for reinforcement from the various member worlds that have native defense forces or are in the process of mobilizing. We all know the general sentiment in the Senate against that kind of thing.”

“Which in itself would inspire more secession among member worlds, pulling them into the Separatist cause, which is definitely worth losing an entire fleet for,” Mace nodded in agreement. “What of the damage to Tipoca City and the military complex?”

“The damage was at most superficial, with the worst being done by the Trident’s manipulators collapsing the connection paths and platforms between the various domes. Only a single cloning chamber suffered direct damage, which caused the loss of nearly two thousand developing clones. Overall, this will only cause a slight dip in cloning numbers over the next month or so as repairs delay usual operation,” Obi-wan explained.

Mace sat back in his seat pensively, “Very well. Is there anything else you wish to bring up?”

“Just that no Jedi should engage Durge alone, ever,” Obi-wan said seriously.

“Has something changed from your last encounter?”

“He has improved his armor, adding more lightsaber resistant shields to his legs. The shields themselves have also improved, previously, they would only hold against my saber for a few seconds. In this fight, the shields held long enough that they could be considered a lightsaber in their own right, given the way he uses them in a fight.”

“Noted, we will update our files on him and issue a directive to all Jedi in the field to be on the lookout and to retreat if possible.” Mace looked around at us briefly. “Thank you for your time. May the Force be with you.”

His holo vanished and the room’s lighting brightened.

“Snips,” Anakin gestured for me to remain behind as the other masters left the room.

“Yes, master?”

“I realize you’re eager to get your hands on that wreck, but we need to sort out the 501st. Their casualties were thankfully in acceptable ranges, given the surprise improvements the Seppies made to their droids, but we still have a lot of reorganization to do and promotion of troopers to fill a number of vacant slots.”

I frowned at him in suspicion, “You want me to do the boring flimsiwork, whilst you get to tinker with that dread’s wreck first, don’t you?”

He puffed his chest and looked innocently away, “Now what would give you that idea, Snips? I’m sure I used the term ‘we’.”

“Skyguy, you suck at admin work. We won’t be at it for ten minutes before you find some excuse or conveniently arrange to have Rex call you away.”

“Snips, I promise, we’ll both sit there and not get up until it’s done.”

I gave him a flinty stare, “Fine.”

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Fives deposited himself to sit on the very edge of the platform that overlooked the endless ocean surrounding the military complex. He felt a weariness all the way down to his bones after a full day of back breaking work to help clean up the mess the clankers had made of their home. There was no distinction between tech or soldier in this and everyone was pitching in.

It was a rare calm and sunny day, with the ocean only producing slight waves that lapped against the distant stalks below. This far away from the domes, the sounds of heavy lifters, power tools was a minor background din, allowing the constant sound of the waves to balm his mind. As a kid, he’d always sought this place during their scheduled ‘relaxation sessions’, as their instructors led them through the day.

He opened a water ration bottle and soothed his parched throat.

“Ha, always the same place, eh?” Echo, wearing a tech’s overall, sat down next to him with a groan. “Ugh, I don’t think I’ve felt this beat since our time in the Meat Grinder.”

Fives just shuddered at the thought of the physical obstacle courses designed by Instructor Bric. It was the first thing clones had to do after they came out of their final stint of accelerated maturation. It was designed to instill the physical skills and strength of a soldier into the fresh clones.

“Yeah, starship life, even with all the time we spend in the gym and on battlefields, can’t really compare to the beating of the Grinder.”

Echo pulled out his own water ration and gulped it down in one go. “Ah! So, what was your score?”

Fives smirked, “Twenty six, confirmed.”

Echo leaned back on his arms and smiled in return, “Thirty one.”

Fives felt his jaw drop in astonishment, “Thirty one?”

Echo nodded and Fives could swear a slightly smug look had briefly flitted over his brother’s face.

“Where did you get the extra? We were practically together for the entire battle.”

“I’ll admit, I got lucky with a few there, but I have been spending a fair few extra hours in the danger room in my off-duty time.”

“You better show me your battle chit,” Fives insisted.

Echo shrugged, reached into a pocket of his overall, clearly having anticipated his friend’s demand, and chucked the small storage chit over, which Fives deftly caught.

The pointed clearing of a throat had them looking around. In the next instant, they were on their feet and standing at attention.

In the light orange striped armor was Commander Cody and next to him was the blue striped armor of Captain Rex. Both senior clones had their helmets off and regarded their subordinates critically. Fives couldn’t help but feel he had done something wrong under the gaze of these two senior veterans.

Finally, after entirely too long, Commander Cody smiled, “That was very good work from you, boys. Not only in clearing multiple enemy strongpoints, but also holding off the enemy from that shelter. You were the most senior clones there and organized a competent defense with very little to work with in record time.”

“We just did what we had to, sir. We had help from 99 as well,” Fives replied quickly.

“Yes, 99 will be honored as if he was a full soldier in this army,” Rex declared, then gave a small smile. “His help saved a lot of lives. I’m sure the old fellow will just stuff the medal in a locker somewhere, knowing him. Commander Cody and I are here for you two. You both showed valor and real courage in the face of the enemy. You rallied your brothers and showed leadership. As of this moment, you are both recruited into the ARC trooper program.”

Fives felt his heart leap with excitement at the mere thought and quickly glanced at Echo. His friend’s eyes told the story that he felt the same. Yet, he couldn’t help the regret that also surfaced at that moment - he wished Hevy, Droidbait and Cutup were here too… all of the old Domino training squad.

“I’ll also warn you now. As ARC troopers we get the best gear and training you wouldn’t believe, but in return the best is expected. We are the tip of the spear. We are usually right beside General Skywalker and Commander Tano, expect to see amazing and very dangerous things.”

Cody and Rex saluted, which Echo and Fives mirrored a moment later.

“You should be receiving your assignment and revised schedule within the day. As you were.”

The senior clones walked off.

Fives and Echo looked at each other and gripped each other’s right arms in a strong grip.

“We made it, Echo.”

“That we did, Fives, that we did.”

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A few days later I found myself back in my quarters aboard the Resolute, just sitting in front of my desk in my underwear after a very long day of work. The last day had been devoted just to managing the ship’s repair effort, of which there was a very long list. Thankfully, nothing which would require dedicated drydock time and could be done in the field right from the ship’s spare part storage.

My natural body clock was starting to insist it was time for some shut eye, but there was just too much to do, so I was burning the midnight oil with a combination of caf and the Force.

Also on my plate was monitoring news in the Mandalore sector, keeping myself informed on the affairs of the clan and making notes on things which could potentially require a direct holocall or more indirect intervention. It was already looking like I would have to arrange for my holographic presence at a coming board meeting of Concordian Crescent Tech. There were a number of execs on that board who were playing dirty under the table tactics against their internal rivals and pushing for an expansion for the company to start producing fighter and starship scale weaponry, which they wanted to mount on the future warship design.

Never mind the cost associated with the expansion in R&D, labor and capital expenditure, there was the question if there was even a market for CCT to exploit here. MandalMotors already had their excellent designs for fighter scale weaponry, which were amongst the best in the galaxy and it was already a no-brainer that Kalevala Spaceworks were going to approach them to design the capital scale turbolasers. Kalevala unfortunately did not have their own line of starship scale weaponry, and sent their luxury liners to KDY to have them fitted with their anti-piracy armament.

The step-up from fighter to capital size was not easy, but vastly more plausible than CCT managing it from the ground up. So these greedy idiots just saw credits and the ‘honor’ of having CCT arm the first warship line built by the Mandalorian people in centuries.

My desk terminal in front of me lit up with the characteristic tone of an incoming holocall. The code ID was mostly unfamiliar, but I recognized that this call was coming from Kuat and if it had got past the Resolute’s com officer while I was officially serving aboard ship, then whoever was on the other side of this call would not be a random prank caller.

I quickly double checked that only my head was being scanned by the holo, before tapping on ‘accept’.

The holo of an unfamiliar human woman from the waist up appeared and I was immediately struck by two things - one, she was decidedly beautiful; with glistening brown hair that fell to her shoulders, arched perfect eyebrows, a thin elegant nose, aqua blue eyes, full lips and slightly tanned skin with a flawlessness that meant this woman had a bio sculpting done. She had a bosom that straddled that perfect line between being substantial, yet not large enough to be uncomfortable. I quashed a stupid feeling of irrational jealousy at the sight.

The second bit was my sense of her through the Force as my senses almost automatically dove through the connection. Her massive office was definitely on the KDY Ring and had an expansive view of Kuat, which meant this was not some low level, yet very pretty flunky. She had a sense of confidence and ego about her that was typical of people in high level positions of a high stakes company.

“Padawan or Commander Tano?” Her voice was a nice rich soprano which pleasantly reverberated in my montrals. Her tone, uncertain expression and starting off this conversation with a question clued me in on her immediate issue.

“I don’t mind either address. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Commander Tano it is, thank you. My name is Lira Blissex, Senior Designer at Kuat Drive Yards.”

A spike of nervousness shot up and down my spine. This was the Lira Blissex -  the mind behind the design of the Venator! Of course, I let no sign of fangirling slip through any of my masks and simply bowed my head with a standard greeting.

“Again, a pleasure to meet you Miss Blissex. What can I do for you?”

“Well, as I’m sure you can imagine, commander. A lot of proposals come across my desk from various sources in KDY and even outside it. Some of them are utter nerfshit, not worth the datapad it came on. Then there are nuggets of electrum that pop up from time to time and it's especially interesting when I did a bit of digging into the origin of these proposals, I happen to find them coming from the GAR and you in particular.”

“I have sent a number of them to KDY, yes, based on my own experience so far in the war.”

Blissex arched an eyebrow at me, then brought up a datapad and began reciting, “Mandator II Mothership, I like that ship name terminology by the way. You could run a fleet of Venators conceivably for generations with something like this ship supporting them, even build new ships from it.”

I inwardly squirmed at her gushing over the idea, “It’s just a logical extension of solving the logistics problem of fleets ranging over extreme distances away from the core worlds and without having to wait for planet bound supply bases to be built. Such bases are also difficult to build especially if a local world first has to be diplomatically satisfied. Even when they are built, they are static, which means a point for the enemy to attack and undo all the hard work of building the logistics chain in the first place.”

She nodded, “Next, a ship whose sole job is to reinforce and remotely recharge another ship’s shields, even in mid-battle.”

“It is something we have managed to do to a limited degree between Venators already. The tactical and technical problems this presents can be solved by the presence of a new type of ship class, which is built from first principles to do this.”

“And if the enemy starts targeting them first always?” she pointed out.

“Let them, these ships are never meant to be operated in single units. There must always be at least four of them supporting a fleet and each other. If the enemy targets one, then the others can combine their shield restoration on their partner being targeted. The enemy just wasted their time, failed to kill the shield ship and lost more ships in the process. The bigger the fleet, the more shield ships you deploy.”

She began idly rubbing the bridge of her nose with a finger as I spoke, which seemed to be a physical tic she had whenever she was in deep thought, “Hmmm, I’m pretty well versed in the principles and physics behind shielding, but it's funny that no one thought about actually doing this before.”

I smiled somewhat, “Necessity is the mother of invention and war brings necessity like nothing else.”

She frowned for a moment, then smiled, “I’ll definitely have to think about that one. Then again it’s amply demonstrated by the monstrosity that Free Dac produced to fight you.”

“You already have access to the post battle reports?” I asked in surprise.

Blissex was surprised at my question, “Of course, commander. The KDY think tank gets priority access as a matter of routine. We have to keep up with the Seppies and we can’t do that if those reports are stuck for weeks or even months on the desks of the Intel nerfs.”

I suppressed the urge to giggle at her reference to the general ‘paper pushers’ and analysts of Republic Intel.

“I’m just surprised that Intel allows it, that’s all Miss Blissex.”

“Well, you know them,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “They’re so caught up in protecting secrets and information, that they’d rather see it buried than released into trusted hands where the information can actually be useful to the cause. Thankfully, we have a chancellor with a decent head on his shoulders for once and who can look at the big picture.”

“Yes, that he does,” I said with full honesty. “So do you think we can apply the same technique to our own AA, networking them so they share targeting data between ships in a fleet?”

“For Acclamators it won’t be a problem, their com system was designed to be networked anyway when groups of them are landed on a planet and share data, for battle coordination of ground units. It's just a matter of now using it in space and feeding the targeting info. The issue there is that automation of the guns will have to be done to a far greater extent for this data to really be worth it, removing the gunners from their seats entirely.”

“The Venators on the other hand; some of the guns are on computer control and others need gunners. It was a redundancy measure in the face of battle damage. If automation goes down, then the crew can still get in a seat and shoot. The com system will definitely need to be upgraded to handle that amount of increased data flow for a start, with the current system you’d kill the available bandwidth you allocate to launched fighters if you tried.” She looked up and blew some breath into her fringe in another behavioral tic of thought. “No, it’s definitely going to be another case of what has to be sacrificed to make room for such an expanded system.”

“Well, I hope it won’t be something too essential, with a choice between one or the other I mean.”

She scoffed, “With the amount of suggestions and proposals crossing my desk, I’d have to build an entire new starship class from scratch to satisfy them all…” She trailed off and looked rueful. “Sorry, commander. I tend to get a bit… protective of the Venator.”

“Understandable within reason, Miss Blissex. Think of it this way, those proposals are just a sign of how well you designed her overall. Are they asking for an entirely new ship or hull? Are they saying the Venator is nerfshit? No. They see how the ship can be adapted for the ever changing environment of the war. Something you couldn’t possibly have foreseen.”

She nodded and stared off to the side in thought. “Wow, I… didn’t think of it like that.”

“And take it from someone who commands a Venator, at least this one, she’s amazing.”

Blissex’s mouth twitched with amusement, “Your preference for the feminine pronoun in reference to a ship is strange. Most would see a Venator and think of power and strength.”

“That, like so many things, is a matter of perspective. I can counter that by saying this ship protects and has endured much for those who crew her, seeing them through dire situations. She also costs a ton of money to keep in operation and looking pretty for the Republic.”

She outright laughed at this point, and again it was a very pleasant sound to me.

“Oh yes, yes, now I see it. By the Force… is this what it’s like to talk to all Jedi?”

I let my mouth twitch to show my amusement at the question, “It really depends on the Jedi, Miss Blissex. It might seem that way, but we are not a monolithic order. Can you say that all KDY employees are brilliant engineers or designers?”

She snorted and even that was a pretty sound, damn it.

“Hardly, commander. Some of the nerfs around here…” She trailed off then visibly shook herself back into gear. “Well, commander, I’m sure we both have busy schedules. I hope you won’t mind if we continue to keep in contact and correspond. I would like to have more ongoing direct feedback from someone who is in command of a Venator. Our classification levels are on the same general level, so there is little chance we can compromise things. I’m sure you would also like to have some consultancy input into the final design of the shield ship?”

“That would be wonderful,” I bowed my head in thanks. “Force be with you, Miss Blissex.”

“And you, Commander Tano.”

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A/N: So ends the Battle of Kamino. Have a good weekend.

The Force Wills - Chapter 46

“Admiral, pull the fleet slowly into the mass shadow of the planet.”

Wullf Yularen sat back in the command chair of the Resolute as he contemplated the order that he had just been given. He effectively shut out the sounds of battle reverberating through the ship; the alarms, the shudders of the deck under his feet. The sight of orange turbolaser fire streaking towards the fleet. Even those that hit the Resolute, barely made him even blink these days.

He took in the fleet formation, the enemy formation, relative speeds, positioning, all the Republic fighters and tried to see what Commander Tano was seeing. After having spent so much time together, teaching the young Jedi and rather strangely being taught by her on occasion as well, Wulff liked to imagine that he knew her and on most occasions could see the logic behind her strategic and tactical thinking.

That such a mind could be in such a young person, was something that often made Wulff consider that the Jedi had done something right in educating and raising her. She had none of the overt mystical nonsense that some Jedi wore like an extra robe around their shoulders. The closest she got to that was some of the profound philosophy she would occasionally pull out of seemingly nothing. There were moments though that she utterly frightened his mustache off.

The most obvious reasoning behind pulling the fleet back was to draw the Seppies into the mass shadow as well and removing hyperspace as an option for defense, attack or retreat from the table. An enemy fleet this large, retreating then dividing itself and running about the sector in small groups would not be ideal. That enemy fleet was here, now, and the opportunity to crush it had to be seized.

The question was would the enemy actually commit?

Would General Durge and his strategic advisor do it?

Wullf could well imagine them declining the invitation and just sitting still and letting the Republic fleet creep out of gun range. The problem with doing that was the fighter dominance the Republic had in the battlespace. The fleet’s Venators could launch further fighter wings that would smash apart the entire CIS fleet, even the Providence dreadnought would eventually succumb. The CIS would be reduced to only using their own ship-launched torpedoes for a long range punch. That punch was slow and couldn’t fire with enough numbers, which could be easily parried by the Republic fleet’s AA defenses.

Unless the enemy also launched their remaining Belbullab heavy starfighters to somewhat even the playing field in the fighter war.

“Yes, commander. Resolute to Fleet, Nav, forward repulsors and thrusters at one quarter,” he said, emphasizing his order by interacting with the holo in front of him and pulling back on the tiny holos of the fleet, to the position he wanted.

As much as he liked this modern holo system for command, control and coordination, that both Skywalker and Tano had designed, he would never be able to let go of the traditional verbal order.

“Group Delta, Time on Target, Munificent Gamma 3.”

Delta was essentially the right flank of the Republic fleet, consisting of six Venators and three Acclimators.

A few moments later a combined 84 quad and heavy turbolasers started a coordinated volley of fire.

The Munificent’s forward shields briefly held for about six seconds, transferring its rear shields forward before even that measure failed and it popped like a soap bubble.

The follow up volley tore through the armor and superstructure of the star frigate, multiple brief explosions and debris venting from the superstructure before something critical was hit… and it turned into a bright conflagration of light and wreckage that radiated outward in a sphere.

The CIS fleet responded with nine of their Munificents, using their spinal long range heavy turbolaser and ion cannons to batter down an Acclimator on the left flank of the fleet.

Wullf winced as a brief new light source blossomed among the Republic fleet. Thankfully the range between ships in the formation was such that little residual splash damage from such a loss could happen. Something that the CIS Navy still hadn’t improved upon.

“Well, they had to adopt the Time on Target tactic at some point,” Tano said and he could hear the weariness in her tone

So far the battle had been a measured slugging match, with ships jockeying for position until one side could deliver a hammer blow, only for the other side to throw one back. The only dynamic variable was the fighter wings that had already accounted for five Munificent kills and one Lucrehulk.

The Recusants and other AA defenses of the CIS took a heavy toll though and the tally of disabled or dead fighters currently stood at 201.

Their torpedoes and missiles were almost totally spent and it was getting to the point that Wullf was contemplating ordering a general retreat of the fighter wing, sending them to land and rearm on Kamino. The only fighter capable of still being effective in a capital slug match with no missile armament was the ARC-170s.

Then he spotted the death of another half-squadron of Torrents for no appreciable gain.

“All fighters retreat to the planet for rearming,” he ordered, inputting a course into the holo and dragging the small icons towards the planet. “Venators prepare for the launch of your next ready squadron.”

What would the reaction be of the enemy to this?

The fighters ran the gauntlet of the enemy formation and lost a further twenty six of their number before they could leave enemy AA range.

Group Alpha on the left flank combined their fire to kill another Munificent, but the combined fire of the Lucrehulk and six other Munificents on the opposing flank reduced a Venator to fiery pieces that swiftly ejected dozens of escape pods as the crew desperately tried to escape their dying ship.

Group Beta, the central wall of the Republic formation, suffered the attention of the enemy next as the Providence entered extreme range.

“Shield wall, shield wall!” Wullf roared.

Beta was arranged in a different formation to the flanks. It clustered Venators into triangular groups of three, but the trailing ship was completely obscured from enemy fire. This let that ship be the ‘shield ship’, whose job it was to focus its full power on throwing its shields over the ships in front of it and regenerating the shields.

The Providence’s eight quad heavy turbolaser and seventeen dual heavy lasers blasted out into the void, in concert with armament of the four Munificents that surrounded it.

The shield reinforcement meant that the Venator bearing the brunt of this attack lasted thirty seconds longer than it would’ve otherwise, allowing more escape pods to launch before it was reduced to a bright flare of expanding energy, gas and debris.

At this point, the Republic fleet crossed into the mass shadow of Kamino at a relatively slow pace of a few kilometers per second and moved back out of range of that blasted dreadnought’s guns. The frustrating thing was that there had been relatively low amounts of fire or damage done to it.

The Providence outranged every gun on the Republic fleet. The clustered Munificents and Recusants around it, combined with its own formidable AA capabilities meant that few fighters could dare venture close or successfully throw coordinated torpedo volleys. To this point in the battle barely a handful of heavy capital torpedoes had managed to impact Providence's heavy shields, damage which had already regenerated at this point.

There was only one weapon the Republic had which could fire at a similar engagement range and would really damage the dreadnought significantly; the composite ventral main laser on the Resolute. It was a weapon that they dare not use at the moment, lest it draw the fire of the entire CIS fleet on what was currently the flagship.

He directed another volley from the left flank to smash into the Lucrehulk on that side of the CIS formation.

Seven Venators fired at their extreme long range and reduced to starboard side of the enemy battleship to constantly vent gas and debris into space. It wasn’t dead, but it was clearly mission-killed.

“Sensors, any indication on the enemy’s drives?” he asked.

“Nothing evident, Admiral, they’re staying put in formation.”

He glanced at the holo and noted that every Venator was reporting ready. “Yularen to the Fleet, fighter launch!”

The eighteen Venators maneuvered to present their ventral profiles to the enemy. 216 fighters, this time composed of a greater percentage of ARC-170s streaked out of the hangar bays and accelerated towards the enemy.

He considered the problem for a moment, then came to a decision, “All fighters, target Recusants and Munificents on the port side of the Provi.” He tapped the targets in holo, broadcasting them to the fighters. “Fire saturation volley, delay five seconds, fire another.” The fighters all returned green acknowledgement signals. “All Venators, lock heavy torpedoes on the Provi, await my signal to fire.”

Turbolaser fire was steadily thinning between the fleets as the range opened up further and further. Into this space the fighters burned through, rapidly closing the distance to their own targets.

“Locks achieved, firing,” reported the chief wing commander.

The holo suddenly lit up in blue delta icons with the mass launch of torpedoes.

Then another mass launch.

Inwardly, Wullf was silently and irrationally urging the torpedoes to move faster.

“All Venators, fire!”

72 heavy proton torpedoes streaked into the void, immediately starting on an evasive course and spiraling in towards the enemy fleet. This was to keep the CIS guessing as to the potential target for these slow but very deadly torpedoes, but it was a rather pointless gesture. Any decent commander would know that the Providence was the only viable target for these weapons.

The virtual cloud of fighter-launched torpedoes entered enemy AA range and the droids manning those stations opened up immediately with a torrent of laser and flak to destroy the incoming weapons.

Seven.

Only seven torpedoes in the first wave survived to smash into the starboard shields of a Recuscant, collapsing it.

With their targeting solutions and computations further refined, only five torpedoes made it through the hellish storm of laser and flak to smash into the targeted Recuscant.

It vanished in a flash of light as its hypermatter reactor detonated under the proton particle hammer blows that smashed through the hull and armor.

The gap this opened up in the enemy AA coverage was not enough and the heavy torpedoes were easily swatted out of space without even getting near the dreadnought.

“It was a good try to strain their targeting solutions, admiral,” Ahsoka said over the command link.

It was bloody pathetic, he screamed internally. The CIS was stepping up their anti-torpedo and missile tactics. They were learning and getting better at this deadly game. The same attack would’ve at least killed two or three Recusants and battered the Providence's shields just a month ago.

This was going to force torpedo releases closer to the enemy, a return to the old paradigm of grinding attrition warfare, where fighters bled and died to release those weapons - only this time much worse given the better AA defenses that stand-off weapons had inspired.

“Admiral, make your next launch a mix of concussion and proton. Proton first, ten second delay.”

“Understood, commander.”

Torpedoes streaked into the void again from the fighters, who had kept themselves in a holding pattern two hundred kilometers beyond the maximum AA range of the CIS fleet.

Concussion missiles followed afterward exactly as he had ordered and he intently watched the holo, fighting to keep his outward neutral posture and expression.

The scintillating blue particle trail of the missiles allowed you to see them with the naked eye at this range and they made for a pretty sight.

The timing of the two volleys turned out to be exactly what was needed.

The droids had to treat the concussion missiles as a threat, as the sheer volume of them concentrated on a single target would also deplete and batter down shielding. A discerning commander with an experienced crew would make the calculated sacrifice, prioritizing the torpedoes.

The droids however simply saw it as a threat that needed to be dealt with.

The proton torpedoes and concussion missiles merged into a singular cloud just as they passed into the AA defense zones of the enemy.

Again, enemy flak and laser defense streamed through space, hoping to swat away the threat.

Concussion missile and torpedo both died.

His eyes lit with triumph though as he saw that thirty one torpedoes had made it through the active defense!

The torpedoes quickly split into two equal groups that targeted the last Recusant that was guarding the dreadnought and another Munificent in close formation.

The light destroyer had no chance and erupted into an expanding cloud of gas and debris, which a few seconds later started to pelt the dreadnought, enough to actually damage those monster shields.

The Munificent fared slightly better, but was cracked in half when one of the guiding astromechs managed to guide its torpedo right between the primary bow armor plates and got lucky.

“Again!” he ordered.

Thirty seconds later, another Munificent was destroyed.

“Admiral, aspect change to the enemy fleet,” reported the Sensor tech. “Engines are lighting off, they’re following us into the mass shadow.”

Wullf nodded, “Well commander, it seems the enemy has taken your invitation.”

“Then we shall strive to be welcoming hosts,” he could hear the smile in her voice. “Keep our fighters at stand-off range and keep the fleet going until you hit low orbit.”

The CIS fleet responded in kind for the first time at this point.

The nine remaining Munificents and the Providence fired heavy torpedoes at the steadily reversing Republic fleet.

“Arquitens cruisers to the front of the fleet,” Wulff ordered. He quickly reviewed the intelligence profile on this Providence that had been hurriedly generated so far. It had sixty-one, three shot launchers, so could conceivably fire 183 torpedoes within fifteen seconds before having to go through a relatively lengthy reloading. How long that was exactly the Intel divisions could only give best guesses about.

A look at the holo proved that Intel had guessed correctly in this instance. Just like the Republic had generated hits by saturating defense, the enemy commander was trying the same.

Combined with the Munificents launching, there were now 243 torpedoes bearing down on them.

It was a rather pointless gesture in Wullf’s opinion. It spoke of frustration and just firing for appearance’s sake.

The Republic AA burst to life a few minutes later and sweeped space clear of the slow enemy torpedoes, none managed to penetrate the active defenses.

He didn’t want to leave the launch unanswered, “Fighter Wings, target Munificent Lamda One.”

The mass torpedo and concussion missile launch did its job again and 44 torpedoes penetrated the enemy AA, slammed home into their targets, killed two star frigates and finished off the badly wounded Lucrehulk.

A glance at his holo indicated another creeping issue, his ARC fighters only had three more such volleys remaining.

The Providence only had three more ships remaining to aid it in its active defenses, but four more Munificents could theoretically maneuver to replace those losses.

Then, as if his thoughts were direct inspiration to the enemy commander, those ships started maneuvering to take up direct escort positions around the dreadnought.

Seven star frigates now surrounded the dreadnought, with the three remaining Recusants trailing behind and escorting the last remaining Lucrehulk.

“Admiral, we must keep them thinking our backs are against a wall, we must also keep them interested and pursuing us. I’m sending you a course for the fleet.”

His holo lit up with the course she had designed. It was essentially just to keep reversing and use Kamino itself, keeping the planet to their starboard side and doing what was essentially a powered orbit. It almost looked like an ancient slingshot ballistic course.

“This will mean we have no choice but to let them get back into gun range,” Wullf pointed out.

“Yes, we must offer them a chance for victory in their minds.”

He saw immediately what she was getting at. It was just a grim calculus that they would have to sacrifice ships to achieve this.

“We’ll get it done, commander.”

His hands tapped the holos of the enemy ships, “Fighter wings, target the following ships… launch everything and retreat to the planet.” He dreaded his next order. “Nav, reduce our relative speed, I’m sending you a new course.”

Missiles and torpedoes burst into space and the range to the enemy fleet began to creep slowly down…

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In that moment, it was a struggle not to hate myself for the order I had given.

I had to offer battle to the enemy or there was a real chance that he could possibly break through the blockade with that bloody Providence.

The probability lines along that path was the certain death of a fair portion of Tipoca City and substantial damage to other surface cities. My opponent was perfectly willing to direct the dreadnought into crashing directly into the planet surface - he didn’t even need to be accurate. Something with the mass of that ship hitting the planetary ocean at any appreciable speed with the aid of its engines and pure gravitational attraction would at least cause a planetary wide catastrophic climate shift in the long run and a water displacement well in excess of anything the kaminoans had built their cities to handle.

What the bloody hell was Palpatine thinking in letting these futures have such a high chance?

Yes, he had the Spaarti clones on Centax 2 as a failsafe option. Spaarti clones had numerous drawbacks though and could not fight the Clone War as he needed it to go. It had the advantage of being able to clone a full human to maturity in one year, but their training was accomplished with ‘flash learning’ imprinting and was decidedly substandard. HK would call them ‘meat B1s’, for their effectiveness was similar.

“Commander?”

Rex’s voice had managed to snap me out of my woolgathering. It had been some time since I had allowed my prescience to distract me so sufficiently. Palpatine was truly riding the edge of a knife at the moment and it had surprised me.

The battle in the military complex was still ongoing. Dividing my attention there and managing the battle in space as well was proving to be a strain. Thank goodness Rex and Yularen were there to handle the details and I could keep my head only in the strategic realm.

I flicked my hands into the holo and brought forward two screens that were tracking the ongoing fights between Anakin and Ventress and Durge against Obi-Wan and Shaak Ti. The quick program I had written to keep a sensor interlink between internal surveillance and their comlinks was holding nicely. It allowed me to project my senses and if needed my TK onto both conflicts.

The fight against Durge was the most critical and perilous.

The ancient mad bastard was like a force of nature and it was taking all Obi-wan and Shaak Ti’s skill and power to just remain alive in the face of the 2000 year old gen’dai warrior.

Even as he fought, he firmly retained the initiative, dictating the direction and pace of fight, with his primary single-minded goal being to kill as many clones as he could with sadistic pleasure and delight. Even when both Jedi Masters managed to land full on hits or strikes that would kill anyone else in the galaxy, the gen’dai just laughed it off.

It was all I could do to pull clone squads out of the way of the running fight.

Not an easy task considering that the clones still had to fight off the droids infesting the military complex. It was also clear given the direction the gen’dai was generally moving that he was intent on heading into the primary barracks and shelters, where the clone youth were.

Even with full control of the environment and shutting blast doors in Durge’s face only served to slow him down. The general had clearly come prepared as each time it happened he shoved a remote spike probe from his armor into the local controls that hacked the door within less than a minute.

That such a thing was even possible spoke of a clear infiltration and intel leak. The obvious guilty party being Palpatine himself, feeding intel to Dooku, which allowed a conventional infiltration to happen, so that to all external appearances it was just the playing out of the spy game.

I flinched slightly as my prescience presented a very grim probability line.

It was all I could do to keep my food in my stomach. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to curse and scream at the universe that such evil existed. That someone like Durge could exist.

I saw clone kids, their lifeless eyes just staring up, blood, limbs awkwardly bent… my mind rebelled and recoiled trying to even put further words to it.

Durge launched an electric bola at Master Ti…

My will surged forth and the bola was deflected to the side, missing her completely before it was crushed.

“Interesting!” Durge declared with delight as he used his left gauntlet energy shield to slap away Master Ti’s lightsaber strike, whilst casually kicking away Obi-wan’s lightsaber… with a disc energy shield that suddenly emerged from his thick calf.

That was new, the bastard had been improving his armor.

“You Jedi generally need some form of movement to use your powers… is my third opponent finally entering into the fray?” he laughed darkly and stared right at the holosensor.

Naturally I didn’t answer. It would be a pointless waste of precious time, even if I could use the local PA system in that hallway they were fighting in at the moment.

“Rex, move Squad Theta towards the adjacent hallway 1534 now.”

“Yes, commander.”

Durge fired his machine gun gauntlets at Obi-wan, threatening to utterly shred the Jedi Master with a mass of flechette projectiles.

All of which stopped dead in mid-air with TK from me, allowing Obi-wan to simply dodge to the side and attack Durge’s extended arm as the Jedi master moved in a blur with Force imbued speed.

The blue lightsaber sparked and cut through the upper half of the gun gauntlet rendering it inoperable.

Durge grunted in annoyance for the first time as the blast door opened and he sped through. The fight continued with Master Ti using the Force to bodily pick up the gen’dai and slam him into the ceiling before letting gravity take over.

The general’s jetpack flared into life and he literally used himself as a missile to try and take off Master Ti’s head with his disc shields as he passed by both Jedi Masters and landed.

I refused to celebrate the gen'dai losing some initiative in the fight.

They both managed to fend off and deflect the energy discs and Durge pulled out his spiked electro flail and began a slightly more traditional back and forth duel with his two Jedi opponents.

Obi-wan deflected the flail and slashed for Durge’s huge chest, who simply stepped back and let it miss, allowing him to use his right energy disc to fend off Shaak’s lightsaber.

Obi-wan smoothly conserved the momentum of his swing into an overhead slash, intending to bisect the gen’dai vertically.

The flail defended and with a flick of the wrist, Durge had it surging straight for Obi-wan’s head.

The Jedi master dodged at the last moment, slapping at the flail head with his lightsaber to send it off to the side.

Durge, at the same time, fended off Shaak Ti with a combo of his right energy disc, followed with a kick, with the foot disc bursting into life. She narrowly avoided getting her left lekku sliced off.

His flail caught Obi-wan’s lightsaber, wrapping around the blade in a nice trick that threatened to rip it right out of the master’s hands.

The scream of lightsaber energy competing against the energized flail whined through the hallway as Obi-wan pulled on it with all his strength. He succeeded a moment later, only to catch a big boot from Durge right in the stomach.

The gen’dai laughed with his typical awful gurgle and leveled his right arm to the fallen Obi-wan, whilst simply using his right leg’s energy disc to keep Shaak Ti at bay. He was using kicks and blocks with fluid quick moves that had no right to be done by someone so big and bulky.

His gauntlet flamethrower began sparking and threatening to belch flame all over the prone Jedi Master.

My will reached out, surrounding that thick gauntlet and I crushed.

Durge’s forearm went from the diameter of a tree-trunk to the size of my own fist. The metal of his armor shrieked and cracked as it deformed horribly and most importantly, rendered the flamethrower useless.

In the next moment, liquid flame burst out and poured out all over Durge’s armored legs and lower torso. My guess had proven correct. He still based his flamethrower on the Mandalorian style, which used a binary flame propellant technique; two inert liquids stored in the gauntlet, which were harmless on their own and would only light off when combined and energized with a specific frequency of power.

Obi-wan jumped to his feet.

He and Shaak Ti backed off with blades in guard positions to see the effect.

Durge stood there, cooking in his own flames, and for the first time I could sense something other than glee and enjoyment from the gen’dai.

He was distinctly annoyed.

“I’m going to enjoy the day you stand before me and we fight properly, little Tano.”

Shaak Ti didn’t like that, and expressed her displeasure by throwing a Force Push that doused the flames immediately. Obi-Wan flung up a hand, using the Force to introduce Durge to the ceiling again, but then the Master pulled down, to crash the gen’dai into the floor.

Durge blurred to his feet the moment he had leverage and charged into the fight again. His right gauntlet had also lost its energy disc from my crush, so he was forced to keep using his leg to fight off Shaak Ti, whilst the flail he reserved for Obi-wan.

The fight was so quick now, that anyone just looking at the holoscreen would just be bewildered, not being able to make heads or tails of what was happening.

Durge was keeping his flail in a constant spinning motion and sending it forward against Obi-wan like it was a disc saw, whilst he used his right fist and leg disc to kick away Shaak’s lightsaber and tried to slap her with a massive open hand. The speed and strength if that hit a normal person, would’ve been near instantly fatal. Thankfully, Jedi could use the same tricks that allowed falls from great heights to also blunt direct impact forces, if they kept their guard up, which was why Obi-wan didn’t have a collapsed rib cage from that kick he’d taken.

The fight went on, with the Jedi Masters now having a much easier time of it now that I’d taken away a fair bit of Durge’s offensive tech.

The general swung his flail in a wide arc, trying to catch both his opponents.

They dodged back and before the fight could move past the next major bulkhead, I triggered it to slam shut and box the general in again.

“Really, Tano, don’t you learn?”

Just as he tried to stab a hacking spike into the local port, I showed him that I do learn quickly.

My TK crushed the spike and wrecked the logic port.

“Good!” He praised me and slashed the lightsabers of both Jedi away in a contemptuous fashion.

His jetpack lit off and he soared back down the hallway, landing at the previous intersection they had fought through.

He brought out another hack spike, from his massive bandoleer. “Just so you know, little Tano, you limit my options enough and I’ll go out with a very big bang!”

Great, that meant he had another equivalent to a suitcase nuke on his body somewhere.

He tried to hack a door that would take him deeper into the complex, but I stopped that cold. He grunted with annoyance and rushed to the other side to hack a door that would head west and the exterior of the complex.

By the time it opened, Obi-Wan and Shaak Ti were there, falling on him with lightsaber blades and Force Pushes.

I decided to encourage him further by crushing his right leg just as he was about to deliver a kick to Shaak Ti. It destroyed the energy disc there and left him off-balance just enough for the Jedi Master to step inside and utterly slice through that leg, a few centimeters below the knee.

On any other opponent in the galaxy, that would be game over.

In a gen’dai’s case, this actually made him more dangerous. The armor was there to contain his form.

Spilling from the stump came multi-colored corded sinuous muscle that behaved like a dozen or more ‘tentacles’ that not only supported Durge’s weight, but now gave him seven or more limbs to fight with. Master Ti wisely backed off immediately just as those tentacles shot outward with the speed of a bullet and tried to grab her.

Her lightsaber whirled around her in a blur of movement, causing cauterized gen’dai tentacles to fly off around her.

I next found the focus to finally grab a hold of that bloody electro flail, which I crushed to pieces.

The gen’dai looked at the now useless weapon in his hand and growled deeply. “I liked that one. Just for that, I’m gonna make a point of crushing your glowy swords, Tano!”

Before Obi-wan could further capitalize, the gen’dai general whirled and used his jetpack again to retreat.

I made a snap decision that I didn’t want the near-suicidal bastard with a nuke in the military complex, so opened every door for him to allow his retreat.

My plan to finally kill the general wasn’t ready yet and keeping him here would only lead to the destruction of an entire dome of the complex, prescience was clear on that probability line.

“Ahsoka! Are you sure that was the right call?” Obi-wan said into his comlink.

“The more you let the gen’dai out of that armor, the more dangerous they become. He also has an implosion device somewhere inside his armor. If we corner him here…”

Obi-wan nodded, “Understood, what’s the overall situation on the ground?”

“If neither of you are too fatigued or injured, there are still a number of droid strongpoints that require breaking.”

“Direct us there, padawan,” Master Ti ordered.

I began to rattle off the directions as I took in what Anakin was doing…

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Their fight had gone back and forth in the secure hallway that led to the primary DNA chamber that held in stasis the full original sample of Jango Fett’s genome, upon which the entire clone army was based.

Ventress had so far not once tried to use Force Lightning in the fight, which showed that at least she had a functioning head on her shoulders and could learn. Anakin’s experience with Emerald Lightning during training with Ahsoka had taught him a lot of the finer intricacies of working the flows and potentials of power through the Force, and if there was one certainty, no matter how powerful you were, the price paid made its use in a long fight questionable at best.

Ventress had seemed very angry and surprised at the beginning of the fight, as if she couldn’t believe that any of them had the foresight to put a guard on the DNA room.

Now she was just full of anger and desperation as their blades flashed and clashed at each other.

She had to cross her blades to stop his overhead slash from bisecting her.

Her left blade disengaged as she tried to keep his own blade out of position with her right.

He took a step back, controlling the range of the fight and her slash missed.

He conserved his momentum, bringing his blade back in a blur and testing her with a Falling Avalanche.

She blocked it easily with her crossed blades.

“Is that all you can do, Skywalker?” she mocked.

She riposted, trying to impale him through the chest.

He countered, bringing his blade across his body, pushing her probing blades to the side and attacked her left side in the same swing.

She brought both blades to block him, but he pulled his swing, transitioning into a feint.

His true attack hit her when his sweeping leg hit the back of her legs and swept them out from under her.

She turned her fall into a full reverse somersault, but Anakin pounced and hit her with Force Push in mid air.

Ventress screamed in fury and tumbled through the air, managing to twist and tuck to land on her feet and skidded on the floor to bring herself to a stop.

He blurred with a burst of Force Speed and aimed to run her through the chest with a stab before she could even get up.

She had to use both blades and a Force Push to deflect it enough so she wasn’t just skewered.

Anakin let his blade be pushed out of the way, but brought up his foot and released another Force Push from it directly into her face.

This time she tumbled across the floor, switching off her own lightsabers to avoid getting sliced by them.

Anakin walked forward with a deceptively casual speed, “How was that?”

Ventress pushed herself up from the floor and glared viciously. He could feel her gathering power and the awful stench of the Dark Side soared to new heights.

Her red blades reignited and she did her own burst of Force speed that was quite impressive.

Anakin met her blades and channeled the Force through his right arm, batted the blades aside, before flicking his blade into a quick reverse grip and almost sent it surging right through Ventress’ eye socket.

She barely dodged by tilting her head and had to duck to avoid his reverse sweep that would’ve decapitated her.

His blade flicked and flipped around, back in a more conventional position, in time to riposte both red blades that attacked his neck and legs.

Ventress was furiously backing up, clearly trying to retreat for her trick of fighting in a location of her own choosing, where she could also use the environment as a weapon.

Anakin didn’t relent, stayed with her and sent his lightsaber crashing into her with a wide variety of probing strikes that would end her instantly if she made the smallest mistake.

Their fight carried them into a corridor junction and she finally managed to open up some room, with a quick Force Push that stopped all his forward momentum, but his own counter-Push canceled the rest.

She turned left and sprinted with a burst of Force Speed and simply ran, her dress flapping hard.

Anakin gave chase with his own bursts of speed, alternating between conventional sprinting and using the Force.

They soon emerged back outside of the main city dome and into the wind, rain and chaos of the ongoing battle.

Anakin didn’t have an overall picture of how the fight was going, but only saw many droids being cut down by concentrated fire from dozens of clone squads also emerging from the domes. Gunships circled overhead and steadily cut away Trident ships from the exterior of the complex. Shoulder launched missiles also streaked occasionally through the air - homing onto droid positions and knocking out Tridents that were busy detaching themselves.

He pulled on the Force and bent his knees, pushing himself into a high leap that carried him directly onto the still retreating assassin.

She didn’t try to contest the strength of this attack, dodging and fending off the path of his blade.

He conserved his momentum, bringing his blade and body into a quick Ataru form and whirled acrobatically through the air, attacking her left side.

She had to lean into her deflection with both blades to stop it, before Anakin pulled his blade away and attacked her right side.

Such was the strength he put into it that she elected to dodge by contorting her back and holding her crossed blades over her chest to keep her guard up.

He took advantage of the gap in her defenses as a result and delivered a forward push kick to her lower legs and unleashed a Force Push.

She hissed in pain as she went tumbling and barely caught herself from falling right over the edge of the platform.

Ventress got herself to a vertical base and screamed in fury as she charged into the offensive, the Force twisted and boiled with her hate.

She slashed at his head with both blades from the left.

He took a step back, whirled his blade in a feint to draw in her attack and prevent his blade from getting locked. Another whirl and he slapped the trailing edges of her blades, adding extra momentum to her attack. It threatened to pull her curved lightsaber hilts straight out of her hands.

Ventress went with the momentum, spun around and used the Force to leap into multiple kicks that attacked his left side.

She had chosen her moment well and her strength was augmented with the Dark Side.

He was forced to release multiple Force Pushes just to stay upright, but the bleed off still meant that he was driven back a meter or so from every kick.

Before he could move into a counterattack though, the energetic whines of dozens of blaster rifles being armed reached them.

Two full squads of clone troopers were now there, some taking cover behind the severed manipulator arm of a Trident, and aiming their weapons right at Ventress.

She looked at them all and smirked, “I suppose you expect me to surrender?”

“I think we both know how that will go,” Anakin replied evenly. “It’s a long way to Coruscant. Just like Dooku, the CIS can’t afford for you to be captured. So-” He gestured with two fingers.

The clones didn’t hesitate and opened fire.

Ventress burst into motion, deflecting the bolts easily at first, but the sheer volume of it soon began to drive her back and in desperation she unleashed a wide Force Push that bowled over most of the clones or upset their aim at least.

She burst into Force Speed, and jumped off the edge of the platform.

Anakin rushed to the edge and looked down.

It was an almost 200 meter drop to the stormy ocean floor, but that was nothing for a skilled Force user. He could just briefly see her form receding as she let gravity claim her. Barely a few seconds later a small splash heralded her entry into the ocean, which was immediately swept away by a wave.

She was still perceivable to his senses for a few seconds, but vanished when she performed her Force Obscuration.

Snips, Ventress has been driven off, he pushed the thought down the bond.

Good, Durge as well, they’re probably going to rendezvous with one of the cloaked Tridents that stayed below the surface.

What’s the situation in orbit?

The battle is still on-going. That dreadnought is not going down easily.

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Wullf winced as the medtech sealed up his bleeding forehead, as the hiss of fire retardant sprays from the damage control parties resounded through the bridge.

He pushed the medtech away abruptly and manipulated the holo, pulling back another Venator that was getting too much damage.

They had finally destroyed all the Recusants of the enemy fleet and there were only three Munificents left, a Lucrehulk and the Providence. In exchange, he had lost four Venators, two Arquitens cruisers, and was steadily accruing higher damage levels across the entire fleet.

If this was just a game about numbers it would’ve been a worthy trade to any tactician. It just didn’t feel that way when a ship entered into the weapon range of that dreadnought.

They had paid in blood to strip away the AA capacity of the enemy and now at last, they could conceivably launch fighter torpedo volleys at the Providence that would have a fair chance of getting through.

The original fighter armada with which they had opened the battle had been rearmed in what was probably some sort of record, and he watched with grim satisfaction as those fighters returned into orbit.

The remaining Venators presented their bellies to the enemy again, this time heralding a fresh launch of 130 fighters.

Resolute was not amongst those, as there was just too much damage to the hangar bays to risk launching starfighters at the moment.

“All fighters, fire the instant you can confirm locks! Get that dreadnought out of my space!”

330 fighters in total fired their torpedoes and missiles less than five seconds later.

Space was turned into a conflagration.

The CIS was not content to just lose. The remaining AA networks on their ships filled space with computer guided flak, plasma bolts and laser. The Providence especially was showing that she had been built with this form of warfare in mind.

Yet it seemed that Ahsoka’s strategy was finally bearing fruit.

The enemy was now forced to divide their defensive fire on two fronts, and combined with the concussion missiles running interference, torpedoes were getting through.

Eight torpedoes cleared the active defense field and slammed themselves into the Providence’s port shields.

The eight rapid flashes of liberated protons lit up the void and the primary shields of the dreadnought flashed and wobbled into the visible spectrum.

“Sensors, scan enemy shields. Effect?”

“They definitely felt that, admiral. I’m getting fluctuations in their power grid and internal explosions.”

Twelve torpedoes and a swarm of concussion missiles made it through next and exploded on the forward primary shields.

“Admiral.”

Ahsoka’s holo appeared in the command chair’s projector. The image flickered and occasionally dissolved into static before solidifying properly. Her helmet was off and she looked at him with a grim seriousness that made him feel like his stomach wanted to fall through the deck.

“Full advance, redline your reactors, I want every gun in the fleet firing on that dread as soon as possible.”

“Commander, you realize what you’re asking?”

It was a stupid question in retrospect, but it had to be asked.

Her jaw visibly clenched and her eyes were hard, “Yes. Power up Resolute’s main gun as well. The instant you have a gap in that thing’s shields, fire.”

41 torpedoes breached the enemy defenses.

Twenty of them targeted the Lucrehulk, battered away the last remaining shields and began exploding on the hull armor directly.

A massive flash of light heralded an explosion, along with a shockwave indicating a breached hypermatter storage, that ripped the battleship in two large pieces that spun off in two widely divergent courses.

Wulff sighed tiredly, before reaching into the holo controls and pushing the entire surviving fleet into a 110 percent engine burn directly into the teeth of the enemy.

Twenty one torpedoes completed their evasive turns and hammered into the port shields of the dreadnought.

He had to turn away from the forward transparisteel windows to shield his eyes from the brightness of the event.

“Their starboard shields are down, admiral!” shouted the sensor tech in triumph.

He nodded, absently staring into the holo as the range indicators steadily began ticking in the opposite direction as the enemy fleet began closing.

Then the holo began flashing red and the Providence’s vectors began changing.

“Admiral, the enemy has changed course, they’re decelerating-”

“I see it,” he grunted. “It seems the enemy is not content with a gracious defeat, Commander Tano.”

“Do what you can, admiral.”

“Nav, give me a reactor redline. Guns, divert all available power, charge the main gun. Fighters, empty your launchers. Yularen to the Fleet, begin firing at extended long range the instant you can. Fire your heavy torpedoes… fire everything you have!”

The entire Republic fleet flared their engines, throwing over 3200 Gs of acceleration to power directly into the enemy. They had to overcome their own initial velocities first and Wulff couldn’t help but ball his fists as he glared at the range indicators.

The dreadnought began to fall.

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A/N: Battle of Kamino Part 2, hope you enjoyed.

The Force Wills - Chapter 45

What was this feeling? CT-5555 aka Fives wondered to himself.

He definitely felt happy to be back home. The familiar white corridors and beautifully expansive views that felt like it went on forever, especially in the central corridor where the massive carousels that housed thousands of his future brothers at various stages of development floated in the air. Everywhere other brothers moved back and forth in orderly and routine tasks related to everything that made a clone trooper what they were.

Group teachers taking clone youth to academic learning, medical orderlies hurrying to and fro, clone instructors taking clone pilots to their simulators, training squads in their cadet armors on their way to the battle arenas, on and on it went.

He was also feeling worried.

Out there, the Separatists were coming to kill everyone and destroy this place… his home.

That thought brought about a hot spike of anger. They dare!

He longed for the day when General Skywalker and Commander Tano led them to Seppy worlds and then threatened to destroy everything that they held dear. What did she say in that briefing? Put the shoe on the other foot?

He pushed those satisfying thoughts away, still trying to put a word to the unknown feeling.

They had seen and done so much since the war first started, after the Republic and the Jedi called on them to serve, to protect, to fight. The galaxy was a big place and since that first rookie assignment, where Captain Rex had saved their lives, Fives had never imagined how many lightyears he would travel with the 501st, how many worlds he’d see, and how many battles he could mark on his armor.

“Look around you Fives,” Echo or CT-1409 and the only other survivor of that mission, gestured expansively to the wonderful views of home around them. “Feels like only yesterday we were here… still kiddies, heading to target practice.”

Fives couldn’t help but chuckle at the memories and the struggles their old training squad had gone through over the years. “I know what you mean,” he said wistfully, clipping his helmet to his belt. He also couldn’t help but notice the glances and looks he and Echo were getting, especially from the kiddy squads.

They passed a rather zealously arguing pair of maintenance clones at this point, who were debating the finer points of a desalination system.

Then in this duo’s wake, pushing a hoversled almost overloaded with training blasters was a very familiar old face.

“Hey 99!” Echo greeted the old maintenance clone with a smile.

99 looked the same as ever; still hunched over, still wearing the gray clone maintenance uniform with toolbelt slung across his body, his pale skin saggy, but his dark eyes were bright with life and a savvy intelligence. It felt very good to see the old clone. He was almost as part of Kamino as the oceans and the incessant storms.

99’s eyes widened and a smile stretched across that old face, “Echo, Fives, welcome home.”

“You actually remember us?” Fives asked, feeling amazement that the old brother was so quick and spot on.

“I remember all my brothers,” 99 shrugged, then frowned at the two arguing clones. “Zyrg, Beell, enough. Electrodialysis pressure needs to be kept below 200 atmospheres at twenty two degrees, that way there’s room in the system for fluctuation, especially during storms. 210, while improving throughput by a significant amount, will have us fixing pipes all over the city, when stormy season rolls round.”

Zyrg blinked in astonishment, as if he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that, tapped on his datapad which bleeped new results at him. “Ah, right,” he laughed uncomfortably. “Of course, thanks 99. It’s just that our population is due to increase quite a bit over the next year and we have to figure out a way for increased water production.”

“A new plant is being planned by the kaminoans, but it won’t come online for another six months, we were asked to think of ideas to help stall the predicted shortfall until then,” Beell explained.

“Better to be put on water rationing than die of thirst on an ocean world, when our plumbing system blows up,” 99 grumbled at them both. “You keep that pressure at 200, understood?”

“Yes, 99.”

Both techs scurried off like someone had cracked an electro-whip on their behinds. Fives smiled in delight at seeing the old clone work his magic. Many visitors to the military complex would look at 99 and think, why had the kaminoans left a genetically defective clone to run around and be a bother? Why waste the resources?

The answer was simple. Kaminoans were great believers in never letting anything go to waste, if it could still serve some purpose. 99 was a prime example. He would never win at being the best clone soldier, but as a maintenance tech with that brilliant practical mind with an eye and memory for fine detail, he was better than all the other able bodied techs in the complex in Fives’ opinion.

“Now, I see Hevy’s not with you,” 99 commented. The old clone’s smile turned somber when he saw their reactions.

Fives only felt a weary sadness at the thought of Hevy and all the brothers he’d seen killed during the war so far. It always reminded him of how lucky he was to be alive still, especially because of Hevy’s sacrifice.

“We were attacked at a listening outpost by commando droids,” Fives explained, pushing all emotion to the background. “He saved our lives but had to stay behind to keep the droids from disarming our explosives.”

“No doubt blasting away at them with that heavy gun of his until the last moment,” 99 said with a fond smile. “I kept tabs on the lists of dead and casualties that came in at first, but at some point… it just became too much.”

“No, we don’t blame you for not knowing, 99,” Echo said hurriedly.

99 nodded, waving it off, “So why is your legion back?”

“The clankers are going to attack Kamino very soon,” Fives said seriously.

The old clone got an expression that Fives had never seen before. 99 was always friendly and had a big heart, but now he was… fierce. “They actually managed it?

“Yes, we’ve not heard yet how-”

“It doesn’t matter,” 99 interrupted. “No explanation needed. They are coming to our home and every single clone; tech, kiddy or soldier, will pick up a blaster if needed.” He hurried back to his sled. “Now I better get this packed away and get the real blasters handed out. Off you go, lads!”

Fives and Echo watched the old man hurry off into the distance awkwardly, “Nice to know he hasn’t changed-”

Their vambrace communicators chirped. “Alpha squad report to briefing, B204. 15 minutes.”

Fives tapped the comlink, “Fives and Echo acknowledged.”

They picked up the pace towards the nearest turbolift and navigated the seemingly endless white hallways and corridors with no problems, finally reaching their destination after twelve minutes of power walking.

The briefing room they entered was the ones usually used for small squad level meetings and as such tended to be used mostly by the ARC troopers and clone commandos. That it was being used by a normal squad in a standard company of the 501st was rather odd. Fives liked to think that Alpha was the best out of 2nd Company, but he grudgingly accepted there were better squads on paper. Alpha, on the other hand, had seen a lot of combat that he didn’t even think commandos regularly saw.

When he saw who was leading the briefing he definitely knew something big was in the works.

Commander Tano stood at the podium, speaking softly to one of the Mando commandos who always followed her around these days.

Fives was not a clone who was too impressed with these Mandos - they were good, especially the ones that the commander kept around her, but none of them could say they had the dedicated training of clones. All of them had been civvies at some point, involved in other professions and were veterans of their civil war. The Mandos who had trained the clones in the early days was a different story altogether - he’d fight and die beside them any day.

The doors to the room closed and the commander put a device of some sort on the podium that was blinking and chirping.

“Welcome Alpha squad,” she said with a nod. “I’m sorry I can’t let you enjoy any time back on your homeworld, but you know why we’re back. If we’re going to keep this city standing and in one piece, it’ll require not only all of us fighting to keep it that way, but some deception tactics on our part is needed as well.”

She tapped the controls on the podium, the room dimmed and a large holo of Tipoca city zoomed in to feature the military cloning complex. Then it zoomed further in to focus on the stilts that supported the massive domes of the complex, which then plunged into the ocean deep.

Finally it stopped at two hundred meters below, almost nearing the very lowest levels of the stilt and there… was something odd attached to it.

At first Fives thought it was merely something wrong with the holo projector itself, but the static distortions resolved to clearly form static in the shape of ships.

“What you are looking at are CIS Trident class assault ships modified with cloaking devices. They’ve linked themselves to the military complex and have tapped into most of its systems.”

Fives and Echo looked at each other in their seats with alarm. “That is the reason for this little scrambler in front of me. It’s feeding a false meeting into the general surveillance system. Know this Alpha squad, the battle for Kamino will not be won in space, but on the ground right here, with all the soldiers of the army.

“Steps like this briefing are being taken to steadily prepare for an invasion of the military complex right now. We aim to slowly create an orbital pattern with our ships in space to convince the CIS that they can target us with hyperspace attacks. I’m afraid they’re in for a disappointment and a nasty surprise. What matters to you though, is the timing of this pattern, as when the battle in space commences, you can be assured that the Tridents will attack. Plan on this happening within the next six hours.

“Alpha, your job when you leave this meeting is to get yourself fully armed and go on a ‘patrol’ of this junction bridge between Dome A1 and D1. Carry extra droid poppers and you can also expect a few supply crates to be delivered there. I realize this is a long time to patrol and be on standby for an attack, but the enemy is not giving us much option otherwise.” Fives looked at his fellow clones and was gratified to note there was only determination in everyone’s bearing. “Any questions?”

Echo raised a hand, “Commander, do we expect them to also attack from the lower levels?”

“They might insert a few sabotage teams down there, with instructions to detonate the support stilts and sink some of the domes if the battle doesn’t go in their favor. We are sending Mandolorian squads to deal with the possibility. Anything else?”

The room was silent.

“Good, you are dismissed and may the Force be with you.”

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The command center that the kaminoans used to coordinate the defense of the planet was suitably impressive and sophisticated considering the general tech level the cloners had. It was similar to the interactive command holo room we had built for the Mandator dreadnoughts, but still used infographics and icons instead of a fully immersive simulation.

Kamino was presented as a simple large blue sphere, with icons for every surface and underwater city, Venators as large red spheres, with smaller ships getting smaller sphere icons. There was a second holo that featured a 3D topographical representation of the military complex and all the active squads roaming about on patrol.

It had gotten to the point where it would be suspicious if we didn’t react more to the impending CIS ‘ground’ attack, which finally let us begin to call for a more general readiness. We were still underplaying our hand though, to keep the CIS thinking we were dancing to their tune.

In the command center with me was Obi-Wan, Lama Su, Shaak Ti and Captain Rex, including half a dozen clone controllers manning the various systems and controlling the positions of various units.

A controller tapped his earpiece, “Scouts report the Separatist fleet has launched heavy fighters and are in a position for a hyperjump to the planet.”

“A bit earlier than we hoped for,” Obi-wan commented.

I had to marvel a bit at the intricate orbital dance I was seeing play out in front of me. This was the result of many navigators and astromechs working together, and now by all appearances the Republic ships had found themselves loosely grouped to one side of the planet, just beyond the mass shadow. Anyone looking quickly would just assume it was a confluence of coincidence and bad luck.

“Heavy fighters have jumped to hyper!”

“Flak fields open fire!” Obi-wan snapped.

The combined AA fire of forty six Republic ships burst outward into space, directly into the projected emergence of the Belbullab-22 heavy starfighters.

Space was turned into a large sparkly fireworks show as anti-fighter blaster fire, explosive flak and even rail gun fire streamed out in a storm.

Three hundred odd CIS heavy fighters emerged from hyper directly into this conflagration.

In the next moment, 221 of them died with muted flashes, before breaking apart into debris moving forward only on their emergence momentum.

The rest survived long enough to launch their torpedoes.

158 anti-capital torpedoes streaked out into space, eagerly seeking their targets.

The fighters who launched them turned and burned hard to escape, going into evasive maneuvers.

I reached out through the Force towards those fighters. It was a very meat… organic sentient thing to do, the pilots were not behaving like a droid. Strangely enough, the pilots were B1s! Has the CIS been doing a bit of upgrading to them? I had heard of Magnaguard droids being rather capable pilots in the Belbullab, but those were simply too valuable and expensive in their role to be used as fighter pilot cannon fodder.

The remaining fighters were further whittled down and only twenty made it back into hyper.

That quick turnaround could only mean that they had spent a lot of navicomputer time to figure out these courses.

73 torpedoes managed to evade active defenses and started hitting the shields of the fleet.

Thankfully, the ferocity of our sudden defense had prevented any coordination and the effect was more like a shotgun blast.

Now the Arquitens light cruisers were coming into their own. Their recent configurations in response to evolving battle spaces had turned them into ships that were meant to guard their slower brethren and they sported an anti-torpedo system that was singularly brilliant and demonstrated I was not the only naval innovator in the Republic.

Someone, and I was still looking for the name of the military scientist at KDY responsible, had essentially given the Arquitens dozens of metal storm shotgun turrets. A hundred barrels packed in a rectangular articulated launcher with projectiles the size of a fist and accelerated down railguns. The issues they had was their effective accurate range and the general problem with kinetic weapons in space - fire them, miss, and you were ruining someone’s day in the far future.

The nimble ships began belching cluster projectiles, twice per second, destroying a further 52 torpedoes before they could hit the more shields.

Yet, still our defense wasn’t perfect, and I winced as I felt a Venator and Acclimator die. The latter went up in a spectacular fireball as its reactors breached and the former broke apart in large pieces under the torpedo hammer blows, where it would slowly orbit for at least another twenty years if it wasn’t cleaned up. Escape pods were launched in the dozens thankfully.

“Enemy fleet jumped to hyper!”

Seconds later the CIS Navy arrived.

18 Munificent class star frigates, six Recusant class light destroyers and three Lucrehulk battleships, all arrayed around the centerpiece of the fleet - a Providence class Dreadnought.

Most fleet commanders when faced with such a force would be practically stupefied at the amount of firepower that the CIS had managed to fly all the way around the eastern edge of the galaxy.

No, the answer was quite simple and something that once again proved that necessity is the mother of invention. Someone on the CIS side had built a ship whose sole function was to act as a fleet and fuel tender.

The compromises of building such a ship meant that you’d never bring it near any dangerous battlespace, which was why none of the scouts had found such a ship. I gave a look at a nearby galaxy map… yes, they’d probably left them in the Gamorr system, the second last stop along the Trellius before you had to take a northerly hyper lane to reach Kamino.

“Generals, the Tridents are moving, decreasing their depth,” announced a clone technician.

That the kaminoan sensors had no problems finding the cloaked vessels in the water via what I considered a very futuristic spin on the oldest hydrodynamic principle was just a wonderful dichotomy. Their sensors could remotely map water flow to a molecular level and as a result, the cloaked ships were detected by their irregular water displacement against the natural flows.

“Entire planet to combat alert level,” Lama Su ordered, as was his sole right. Every city began wailing air raid alert sirens.

“Launch all fighters,” ordered Obi-Wan.

Every Venator began presenting their bellies to the enemy and ARC fighters, Headhunters and Torrents streamed into space. 21 squadrons were launched within moments, which were joined by another launch ten seconds later. Resulting in over five hundred fighters screaming towards the enemy fleet.

“Admiral Yularen,” I called over the command frequency.

“Yes, commander?” he said from the bridge of the Resolute.

“That Providence seems a bit less capable than the norm. Do you agree?”

“Energy profile and gun count is much lower, commander. I concur. It’s also just over 1100 meters long. The standard Providence is just over two kilometers.”

“Then what we are seeing is basically a pocket-dreadnought, something that can do the job but at a much cheaper price and can operate with higher strategic and tactical speed. Master Kenobi, I suggest our fighters focus on the Munificents and Recusants, while we use Venator and Acclamator guns on the rest.”

He nodded, “I agree. Ahsoka, are you sensing General Durge anywhere?”

“No, he’s either not here or he’s being hidden by Ventress once again.”

“Agreed, I’m not picking up anything either.”

“Generals, Tridents are nearing the surface.”

“Launch all gunships,” Obi-wan ordered.

The unfortunate thing about the kaminoans never having fought a civil war amongst themselves on Kamino, meant that fighting with submersible craft had just never been needed. They had some amazing underwater craft that would have pulp scifi writers back in my old life weeping with joy, but mounted nothing that could count as a weapon in a military sense.

Emerging from every hangar that could launch them, two dozen LAAT gunships streamed out of the military complex. Every air-to-surface weapon that could be mounted on them was attached and they had only a pilot and co-pilot for this mission.

The first Trident to breach the surface suffered the attention of six gunships.

Multiple concussion missiles rippled from the gunship’s dorsal launchers and turned it into a brief exploding fireball that soon rained debris back on the ocean.

The remaining Tridents launched themselves out of the ocean and used their repulsors to come in for a hard landing on the domes of the military complex.

Gunships began spamming their missiles and even their composite beam lasers, but eight Tridents managed land and bore themselves directly through the durasteel outer hulls of the massive domes.

“Gunships switch to composite lasers only and support the troops!” I ordered hurriedly. If a Trident blew up whilst their breaching lances were stabbed into domes it would be potentially disastrous. We would have to do this the hard way.

“Ahsoka, are you ready?” Obi-wan asked.

“Yes, good hunting to you,” I nodded.

He hurried out of the command center and was followed by Master Ti, who gave me a pleased nod.

I turned my attention to the battle in space. “Admiral Yularen, fighter groups three and four can take out Munificent Gamma, its starboard shields are fluctuating.”

“Yes, commander… done. Do you find it odd that we’ve had no fighter launches from the enemy?”

That was strange, between the three Lucrehulks and that Providence, they could’ve technically thrown over 4700 Vulture or Hyena droids and flooded space with the bloody things.

It was rare to see such launches though, because of logistics. A Lucrehulk only had so much fuel and ammo to give their fighters.

I watched as a Munificent was blasted apart under the combined fire of multiple ARC-170 squadrons. Three Venators reached weapons range and bracketed a Recusant with their turbolaser fire. Its shields were breached in short order and it blew up spectacularly in a flare of fire and radiation.

The battle space was finally getting defined as more ships on both sides entered weapon ranges. The slow Providence at the back was steadily cruising forward, its defined angry red sphere of maximum gun range creeping ever closer to the Republic line on the holo.

“What if… what if they don’t have Vultures or Hyenas, only Belbullabs.”

“Preposterous, why would they…” Yularen trailed off, his mind working the problem and my idea quickly. “The Lucrehulks?”

“It’d be one way to extend the range of their ships. Conserve mass and fuel that’d normally go to fighters. Combine that with tanker ships that followed this fleet and you could conceivably drive it all the way along the Trellius.”

“And explains why there are so many Recusants, they’re here for anti-fighter work.”

The decking underneath my feet shuddered as multiple gunships literally cut away a Trident from the dome with their composite laser beams. There were hundreds of B1s, B2s and droidekas already deployed into the military complex and dozens of firefights were underway.

I stepped towards the giant hologram, taking the various icons in hand,  “Let’s get to work, Admiral.”

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“All right boys, we’ve got our marching orders, follow your HUD assignments and let’s show these clankers what Kamino does to uninvited guests,” Captain Rex snarled over the command frequency.

Echo and Fives were huffing as they sprinted with the rest of Alpha squad through the red tinted corridors of the military complex and finally emerged from the main barracks building out into the platforms and walkways that criss-crossed between the different domes.

Only to find a very different world than the one they had seen earlier in the day. The storm clouds overhead were thick, occasional thunder was rumbling through the sky, rain was pelting down, but that was joined with the din of an active battlefield.

Gunships were buzzing overhead, firing the forward guns into rocket droids that were surging through the air. Droid carriers streaked overhead, still glowing hot from atmospheric entry as they dropped yet more clankers. Missiles from gunships blasted them out of the air.

The constant whine of blaster fire became apparent as the squad rushed across the walkway towards a dead Trident, that had been killed with laser fire and was lying on its side, on one of the raised platforms.

The orange blaster bolts of droids began streaking overhead as they approached an exterior staircase leading to the platform.

The squad had to cluster and go prone before they stuck their heads up over the top of the staircase, but two heavy gunners led the way, engaging their new gun shields before cresting.

Their rotary guns started spitting blue plasma fire immediately.

“Open fire! Go! Go!” the squad commander bellowed over the radio.

Under the cover of the near constant fire of the heavy gunners, Fives rushed forward, his blaster up, scanning for any targets as he advanced, the reassuring presence of Echo to his right doing the same.

He rushed right towards the nearest cover of some empty ammo crates, but the downed Trident had neatly created a chokepoint.

He heard the distant electronic moans of B1s dying, and scanned his blaster carbine beyond the chokepoint.

Enemy fire overwhelmed the gun shield of the heavy trooper, who died an instant later, when bolts penetrated through.

Fives spotted the culprit and unleashed aimed fire that felled the droid responsible, before having to duck back and avoid his own head getting blown off.

Multiple enemy grenades went off close to the chokepoint, clearing hoping to dislodge the clone defenders, but B1s threw just as poorly as they generally aimed their guns.

Echo threw a droid popper overhead and killed three clankers that were rushing the chokepoint.

Fives gritted his teeth, weighing the decision as another squad joined them.

He rushed out of cover, sprinting left and rolled, going for the cover on that side to get a better angle.

He heard the scream of another fellow trooper dying behind him, caught by enemy fire as they were ascending the staircase.

He was back on his feet, bringing up his blaster and searching for targets.

His carbine belched plasma fire as two clankers rushed onto the platform from one of the other adjoining walkways, both fell dead with electronic screams.

Blaster fire from the adjoining dome walkway tried to nail him and he ducked back behind cover, before popping back out to send blaster bolts back in answer.

The quick action and the long range meant he definitely missed. He had to duck back and reload a fresh power pack.

“We’ve got platform 2A secure, keep pushing!”

The other squad rushed their way forward, managing to kill the sniping clankers with sheer weight of fire.

Fives broke cover and Echo joined him a moment later, firing off to the side and hitting a clanker that was the last droid survivor of those that had rushed from that walkway.

They left the busted Trident behind and rushed up the next set of stairs to an auxiliary dome.

A heavy trooper was ahead, laying down a blistering field of fire to the unseen enemy on the right. Two troopers joined him, but return fire nailed him in the head and he fell dead immediately.

A droid popper went off as Fives fell into cover behind a thick water conduit, killing the B1s responsible.

Three clankers stepped into view and he fired immediately.

Three shots later he had killed one and damaged another before he had to duck from further return fire.

He and Echo popped up to lay down a barrage of covering fire as their fellow squad charged forward, firing as they went.

Blaster fire and screams behind them had him whirling around to see another squad on the left flank, fighting to stifle a clanker advance around the left side of the auxiliary dome.

Keeping low he moved into the cover of the walkway railings and with a better sightline, he unleashed his DC-15 into the clankers in short bursts.

A droideka rolled itself forward and up the adjoining walkway. He could just barely see a sliver of it and he tried his luck shooting the thing before it could unfold.

He missed and it started to fold open on the flank of the defending clone squad, but in doing so presented an easier profile to shoot.

The last two shots of his power pack slammed into the droideka, burning two neat holes through the central chassis and upper head. Its motive systems died and it fell lifeless on its side.

Fives hurried back to Echo’s side as he slapped a new power pack into his blaster.

He saw the squad, Delta, pushing the left flank with some success and gestured for Echo to follow his lead.

They broke cover and rushed along the curve of the building, blasters up and shooting at any target that presented itself from the enemy held platform.

He scored a confirmed kill on a B1 in the process as the squad pushed forward.

“We’ve lost platform 3C, retreat!”

His helmet’s HUD suddenly lit up with a movement order from command into the auxiliary building.

Both Alpha and Delta squads got the same thing, as the troopers stacked and stormed into it.

It was just as well they did, because they ran into an equivalent cluster of clankers that had clearly intended to flank and divide their advance.

Fives fired in a burst, two blasts coring a B1, whilst the third knocked its right leg clean off.

The storm of fire echoed strongly in the large room, its clean, white walls and equipment flashing with a strobing of orange and blue as both sides traded fire and the clones jockeyed for cover, whilst the clankers rather oddly also did the same.

Fives had never seen B1s fight like this… why? In all his experience blasting droids all over the galaxy in the war, they hadn’t cared about their electronic lives before like this.

The firefight seemed to just begin one moment and end the next; it was just a mess of hyper focused memory where he fired, moved, fired, moved, jumping and rolling for cover.

The large room was finally won and he found himself alongside Echo, running across the large ramp that divided what was an auxiliary lab, now thoroughly damaged from all manner of sources.

Another HUD instruction had them halting in their tracks, it ordered them to retrace their steps.

The door into the lab opened and enemy fire spilled in.

Well, that explains that, he thought.

Alpha squad breached outside first and by the time Fives was outside all the flanking clankers had already been dealt with.

The way forward was clear for the moment, so he ran up the inclined walkway to another platform that his HUD indicated they had to secure.

The platform was adjoined to another long walkway and his fellow clones were already laying blaster fire towards the door of another auxiliary building. He fell into cover on the platform railing and aimed at a fully deployed and shielded droideka that was using the opening and closing door to take potshots at the advancing clones.

Two droid poppers were thrown just before the door could close and the droideka frantically tried to move backwards but was obviously too late. It died with twin bursts of blue energy and arcing electricity.

They advanced into this building and found one of the many spare control facilities which could be used as a forward command post in a pinch. The bright white domed room was relatively unmarred with battle scars and the screens along the walls and the central command holo was offline and blacked out.

The squad had barely gotten halfway through this room when the door on the opposite end opened.

Two B1s charged in and opened fire.

Fives and Echo were in the open and had no nearby cover, they returned fire and now it was a game of target practice, where the loser died.

Multiple shots rang out in the next moment and the clankers found themselves practically perforated with plasma shots converging on them from every trooper.

They sparked and died, split apart from the force of so many shots, rendered to burning metal pieces.

No other targets were immediately evident and Alpha squad hurried to secure the exits that branched off from the room in every direction.

A command level order from the HUD directed them to the north exit.

The doors parted to lead back outside and Fives had to duck back immediately to avoid orange blaster fire coming from his left flank.

He turned left only to see a fellow trooper crumple to the deck from a full squad of advancing droids.

He fired in retaliation, but had to duck back into the room, not seeing whether he had scored a kill or not.

The rapid firing from his fellow squad members in cover on the other side of the walkway whittled down more of the enemy. He took a chance and threw a popper half-blindly, exposing as little as possible of himself. An enemy grenade going off near their position had his ears ringing and it felt like a rancor had slapped him.

He stumbled back, shaking his head to recover, having to remind himself to keep his carbine up and covering his flanks - the room was still secure.

By the time he had somewhat recovered and returned to fighting out the door, simultaneous blaster fire from two droidekas cut down three troopers right in front of him. He leaned out blasting a clanker that was trying to advance with quick shots.

Echo, who was on the other side of the walkway, rolled a popper right underneath the shields of the droidekas, which turned them both to useless scrap.

“How’s your ammo?” he yelled over squad radio.

Fives reloaded, “Down to half.”

Echo grabbed a 15A rifle from a downed trooper, along with a bandolier and tossed it across. Fives didn’t like it, but he had to admit that given the intensity of this fighting that they would sooner or later end up running dry.

A few moments later he was ready with his rifle and Echo had pulled more ammo packs and poppers from the fallen around him as well. A sergeant directed them now to advance back across the walkway to secure another platform that had fallen to the enemy. Wait- hadn’t they already secured that earlier?

The back and forth chaos of battle had Fives slightly confused and he didn’t even really recognize if the sergeant was even Alpha’s leader. Keeping rigid command at this point was pretty much pointless, given casualties, the lack of any proper lines of advance and how the enemy was coming from all directions.

They advanced forward, sprinting across the walkway, onto an empty platform and joining the advance of the mixed squads. There was even a jetpack trooper, who briefly flew himself into the air in a hop to cover more ground as they advanced into the same blasted aux control room from earlier.

An unfortunate small squad of B1s was destroyed as they rushed into the room from the northern door.

Fives had killed two of them as he had forgotten his rifle was on auto.

As nice as it was to fire that way, they had to be frugal, so he switched over to burst.

“Left flank!”

He fell behind the first cover he could find automatically, a holo server stack, and opened fire on six B2 battle droids that had advanced into the room. The room exploded into noise as every clone frantically fired on the walking tanks.

Such was the weight of fire, that by sheer odds, the blasts found the B2s weak spots. The clanker’s arms were up though and they walked their wrist autoblaster fire across the room.

Fives had to pull back to avoid getting hit as the bolts peppered his position briefly, before moving on. He popped back up and emptied his power pack on auto into a B2, causing it to spark, die and collapse heavily on the floor.

He ducked back, slapped a new power pack home and flicked open the heat sink to vent the overheat.

The mixed squad received a HUD order to push deeper into the complex, through the door the B2s had come through.

Fives took a deep breath to fortify himself and joined the advancing squads. He was gratified to note that Echo had survived the B2 assault.

The room beyond was a circular power transformer room, that like most kaminoan interiors, was full of pleasing whites, grays and blue flooring. Fives well remembered the first time he had stepped foot on a Venator; what an experience it was to get used to the ugly steel and raw industrial feel of those ships.

From a wide hallway to the side another mixed squad of troopers rushed into the room heading to the east exit door. They were led by a lieutenant who swiftly gathered everyone with a single command and hand gesture.

Just like that Fives found himself part of a mixed small platoon that advanced into the neighboring room, down a small flight of stairs.

It was a T-junction hallway, that further branched out into a much larger transformer room, with three large pillars of energy contained with shielding and transparisteel on the left, and four pillars of power conditioning equipment on the right side.

It was a good place to fight with cover, so long as they didn’t run into any rocket droids that could maybe breach the conduits.

Blaster fire heralded the arrival of the enemy on the opposite side of the room.

Six B1 clankers with a droideka.

“Open fire!”

It was a rather pointless order from the LT, as almost nineteen guns; carbines and rifles, was already firing and reduced the B1s to dead heaps of smoking metal, whilst the combined fire of the heavy gunners overwhelmed the droideka shields and blasted the clanker apart when a lucky shot hit the droid’s power pack.

With the threat dealt with, Fives turned his radio to a more general combat frequency hoping to get a bigger picture of the unfolding battle and immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Platform 39 secured.” “Retreating from junction 3T!” “Hurry—argh!” “Durge is moving through corridor U3, Jedi are engaging him… supporting fire – urghhh — no! HELP!” “A Recusant is trying to run the blockade, heading straight for the city!” “Star Destroyer Judgement on intercept…”

“Fives, head in the game,” the LT ordered.

He rather sheepishly turned his radio back to squad frequency.

The ad-hoc platoon continued forward only to get embroiled in a fierce firefight at a natural choke point in the next corridor over. It served as a large wide ramp which brought you to the next floor up. The enemy firmly held the door leading into the ramp and sent streams of orange blaster fire through the instant any trooper triggered the proximity sensor which opened it.

Both sides traded fire back and forth, including grenades.

This led to three troopers being killed for no appreciable gain in dislodging the enemy.

“Must be an enemy deployment strongpoint nearby,” Echo winced as he slapped a sealant patch on a shrapnel wound he took to his left arm, then stabbed a stim into his own shoulder below the shoulder panel of his armor.

“Need help brothers?”

Fives whirled around and taking cover behind a curved support pillar was 99! The old clone was kneeling with a blaster pistol in hand and grinning at them.

“99! How did you get here?”

“I crawled!” he shrugged and pointed behind him - where a maintenance panel in the wall was open.

Fives blinked as the hint of an idea began to form. “99, you think you can get us up to the next floor? So we can flank these clankers?”

“Easily, I know these routes better than most kaminoans, though you’d never hear them admitting that!”

He briefly considered informing the LT, but decided to take the initiative; there were more than enough troops to hold out and keep the firefight going.

99 led them to the nearby maintenance panel, which looked downright odd and broke up the usual clean lines of the white curvy walls. The old clone easily ducked into the narrow space and Fives found it rather difficult to manage the same with the long rifle. It forced him to dump the weapon and switch back to using his carbine.

The maintenance crawlspace and corridors 99 led them through was rather dark and lit sparsely with minimal red lighting, giving everything a very ominous feeling. The sounds of battle reverberated but was also muted as they were surrounded by durasteel, conduit and cabling.

He didn’t know how 99 could possibly keep a straight head or direction in the place. They climbed ladders, squeezed through narrow gaps shoulder first, crawled through narrow spaces where they even had to remove their helmets temporarily to fit through.

They finally came to a stop in a narrow walkway that had to be running through a wall, with a grill panel in front of their faces.

“When I touch this,” 99 pointed to a small control panel, “the panel in front of us will open. The clankers will be on your left. Make your shots count.”

Fives hefted his carbine in a hand and readied two poppers in his left hand, Echo had picked up an explosive grenade at some point and readied himself.

99 nodded and tapped the controls.

They burst out of the maintenance panel and into the corridor. Just as 99 had promised, they were flanking the concentration of clankers and could open fire down the ramp right on them - they held an actual high ground.

Fives armed both his droid poppers and hurled them forward with an underarm throw, Echo waited a second before throwing his grenade.

A dual flash of energy ended up catching five clankers in their effect before the grenade went off and sent three flying into the walls to smash themselves into pieces.

“Eat this, clankers!”

Fives and Echo unleashed their carbines on full auto down into the survivors.

By the time their power packs were empty, not a single clanker remained to hold the ramp choke point.

The LT and the survivors of the platoon wasted no time in taking advantage and rushed up the ramp.

“Nicely done, you two… and you 99,” the LT gave a quick salute to the tech, who had also emerged from the wall. “Some heads up would be nice next time, but procedure be damned, this is our home. Now fall in, we’ve got a dozen levels to secure.”

“Yes, sir.” Fives reflexively saluted, even as he marveled how cavalier he had been. Echo, on the other hand, was amazed at how far he had come from the by-the-regs clone that had left Kamino for his first assignment. That Echo would’ve balked at even the notion of what they had done.

“Good luck, boys, I have other brothers that need help,” 99 gave them a salute and vanished into the maintenance hatch.

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I stepped away from the hovering holo of the military complex and turned to the clone techs.

“We’ve mostly secured all exterior platforms, commander. Multiple enemy Tridents have been successfully cut away from the domes,” reported the tech.

“Continue relaying movement orders, I need to step outside for a moment.” The techs nodded as I approached the exit to the command center.

“Commander?” Rex asked quickly.

“We’re about to have uninvited guests.” The clone captain hurried to the prime minister and escorted the kaminoan to the side where the best cover could be found.

Both my green lightsabers clipped off my belt, hovered and ignited at my side, whilst I brought the Darksaber to bear.

The main armored blast doors to the command center irised open and I rushed out in a blur of speed.

Naturally, the Seppies had sent the strongest concentration of droids they could quickly muster to take on the Republic command center of the entire battle.

Twenty B2 battle droids in a corridor was not anyone’s idea of a good time.

The front rank already had their arms in firing position and opened fire on me.

I only dodged left to buy a few crucial seconds, whilst my sabers deflected the blasts directly back to the front B2s center of mass. Their armor was strong enough to take that, but I managed a hit directly into the small vision cluster.

My will reached out and I TK’d the dead B2 towards me, using its bulk as cover.

I next sent my sabers spinning forward, taking some inspiration from the late General Grievous, spinning them as a lightsaber disc saw in front of me and steadily walking forward.

By the time I had fileted twelve of the B2s in this manner with no change in tactics from them, the B2 I was using as cover was looking like smoking metallic Swiss cheese.

I sent it shooting forward with TK, the mass and momentum proving enough to bowl over the next row of B2s. With a burst of speed, I was among them, slashing left, right, rolling under their guard, dodging their attempts to stomp on me.

The last B2 I lifted in the air with TK, slashed its gun arm off before pushing in on it with the Force from all sides.

It crumpled in on itself as if it was in an invisible trash compactor.

For a brief few moments, I stood there, waiting for more but was only greeted by the distant sounds of battle.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin’s thoughts hit me. “Ventress is in the DNA repository.”

I turned around and began walking back to the command center, “This entire battle is in her style of misdirection - the only difference being its bigger scale. Makes me think our intercept of her communication with Durge was staged entirely. Durge is psychotic and bloodthirsty, but not stupid. Do give Ventress a good thrashing, master, then send her on her way.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just…”

“Yes master, a defeated but living Ventress will do more damage to the true foe we face. Remember the nature of the Sith.”

The doors to the command center opened and I felt the utter relief from everyone inside.

“Come, there’s still a battle to win.”

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A/N: Battle of Kamino Part 1. Writing this chaotic battle from a trooper perspective was a nice challenge and fun, have a good weekend.

The Force Wills - Chapter 44

The cantina beyond was mostly darkened, with only a single booth lit up.

The place could easily fit about two hundred if no one cared about much personal space. This was a pirate bar though, so the place probably counted as ‘packed’ when eighty people were in here.

Hondo Ohnaka was many things; scoundrel, pirate, mayor, lecher, but he definitely knew what a good cantina was supposed to have. The selection behind the bar was not something far removed from what you’d see on a luxury cruise ship, though the furniture could definitely use a bit more cleaning. There were even a few public holocall stations for use by the patrons.

Our host for the upcoming hostage negotiations sat calmly at the lit booth, idly fiddling with a half-filled glass of greenish liquor with her very long fingers and occasionally drinking from it as we walked towards her.

Aurra Sing in person was an odd experience - in the Force she was surrounded by the Dark Side, selfishness and ego, but she didn’t actively use it much, it was wild, untamed, if I had to give it words. There were streaks of light in her heart though. It was what you’d generally expect of a Force Sensitive who entered into the unforgiving life of a bounty hunter in the Outer Rim. Her hands were stained with blood, but there were principles she still held onto. No one would consider hiring or entering into a contract with her otherwise. Her strength in the Force was also undeniable, what she had molded it towards was something that was not easy to pin down outright. That in itself spoke of a form of obfuscation she was holding around herself. I could only come to some educated guesses and deductions by putting myself in her shoes and what I would need to survive in the galaxy. It was an interesting spin on using the Force for concealment.

Now that I had a good read on her signature in the Force, it would also be interesting to see at what distance I could keep her in my senses.

I could also sense Boba Fett clearly as well. Who was hiding in a very good place if he’d wanted to jump and surprise anyone who wasn’t a Jedi or a togruta with very sensitive hearing. The kid was surprisingly good at maintaining his silence; keeping his breathing even, not moving a muscle otherwise, keeping to a natural pool of shadow not a few feet away from the booth. The problem was he couldn’t keep his heart rate under control, which I could just about hear frantically pumping at this range. In the Force, I could sense his anger, fear and disappointment.

It made me wonder what Sing was playing at. She had to know that Boba would be standing out like an rancor walking through an open desert to both Master Koon and myself. Was she just humoring him at this point with the whole revenge saga? Letting the kid get it out of his system? So she could eventually have an apprentice and adopted son all in one.

Yes, she did have motherly instincts and even a bond with Boba, that I could perceive clearly. I didn’t know much about her species, but she was in that perfect age where a female would be having child-bearing urges, but her profession clearly didn’t allow for getting pregnant, given it would be an extensive period of ‘weakness’ and afterward having the added complication of taking care of a child - who could easily be used as leverage against her by many enemies.

In adopting Boba, she mitigated a lot of those problems.

Master Koon arrived at the table and sat down whilst I kept standing about a meter behind him, in a position to directly watch his back. This was exposing my own back to Boba, but it was relatively inconsequential to a Jedi.

Sing took a deep sip and pointedly put down her glass with extra emphasis.

“Bad move, Jedi. This will cost you,” she said darkly.

Boba chose that moment to pop out and aim his WESTAR-35 directly at the back of Master Koon’s head. That neither of us reacted or even flinched at his sudden appearance completely went over the young clone’s head, his emotions were firmly in the driver’s seat. It almost inspired a bit of respect from me towards Sing, that she could somehow deal with the impulsive, moody child and let him walk around with blasters. Save me when my own procreation instincts kicked in.

“I wanted Windu,” Boba said, choking back anger. “What are you doing here?”

I reached out with the Force and firmly grabbed a hold of the trigger of Boba’s blaster. He had a commendable steady aim, but I was not taking chances.

Sing gave me a look, but didn’t comment or even challenge my control, when she clearly could have. If I was here on my own, maybe, but with a full Jedi Master of Master Koon’s power sitting across from her, he would’ve swatted aside any attempt to rob me of control over the trigger.

“It hasn’t been long enough that you’ve forgotten the way the Jedi Order works, Aurra Sing,” Koon said evenly. “How long are you going to continue to indulge him?”

She looked at him coldly for a moment before smirking slightly. “Long enough to get at least someone with authority and standing among the Jedi to sit across from me.”

Boba gaped at his mother/mentor, his aim slightly slacking, “Aurra, what-”

“This was the last draw from the Pazaak deck for your revenge, Boba,” Sing said with finality, crossing her arms and glaring at the young clone. “I gave you every opportunity and guidance for killing Mace Windu in the only manner possible for someone your age. It all failed.”

“No! You said-”

Sing slammed her fist down on the table and glared. “Yet you still didn’t listen!”

“But…urghh!”

She raised a hand curling a long forefinger quickly and used TK to force the young clone’s mouth shut. Boba’s eyes widened in astonishment and fear came to dominate his mind.

“Enough, Sing,” Master Koon slapped her control away firmly.

She wisely didn’t fight Koon’s strength through the Force and snorted in amusement, then took another sip from her drink. “That was but a minor taste of a Jedi’s power and yes, I used to be one, Boba.”

The revelation was like someone had bonked Boba over the head with a frying pan. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his ears, yet he had felt that unyielding invisible strength take over his jaw.

“That’s… that’s, if you can do that why-”

“That is overt strength, Boba, that would draw too much attention eventually. The Jedi Order would eventually send someone who could easily defeat me in a straight fight, such as the Kel Dor you’re holding a blaster to, who is Master Koon, I believe?”

“Correct,” he said through his breather mask, a slight tinge of amusement showing in his face. “Now if you’d please explain what this is all about, Sing?”

“Nothing galaxy shattering, Jedi. Boba had been talking my ears off since the war started about getting his revenge on Mace Windu for killing his dear daddy. This was the first opportunity that really presented itself, but credits have to come in somehow, so I also took the opportunity to collect a bounty. You see, Republic naval officers who aren’t clones, such as Admiral Killian, have a standing bounty from the CIS.”

“I know of no such bounty, but will admit I haven’t checked recently,” Koon said.

Sing pulled out a large datapad from a duffel bag next to her chair, switched it on and tossed it across the table. Koon gave a little gesture with a large clawed finger. The datapad stopped immediately and began floating into the air, then turned to display the screen to him from a safe distance.

“Paranoid are we, Jedi?” she grinned nastily.

“Considering your penchant for small explosive traps in trying to kill Master Windu, I see it as justified caution, Sing.”

I was careful to keep my awareness wide and open as I gave a brief glance at what was clearly the official Bounty Hunter Guild board on the Holonet. Sure enough, there was the open bounty in question, with scaling rate depending on what rank of officer was brought in alive for interrogation. It had been placed less than two weeks ago.

The last time I had checked the Guild Board was when my own bounty from the CIS had been flagged and forwarded to me by Republic Intel. Most every prominent Jedi involved in the higher echelons of command in the GAR had a bounty, including quite a few Council members.

It was a rare bounty hunter that had the resources, skill and tech to actually have a chance, so for the most part hunters didn’t bother and considered Jedi bounties to be one way tickets to either prison or the afterlife. On the other end of the spectrum though, there were the stupid and desperate. The war also gave more opportunities for the potential of a successful bounty on a Jedi.

Koon sent the datapad spinning back the way it had come, which Sing caught by slapping her hand down on it.

“So you are simply claiming an arguably legitimate bounty and we should ignore the fact that you aided the attempted assassination of Mace Windu, the destruction of the Endurance, directly killed numerous soldiers of the Grand Army?”

“How else was I supposed to claim my bounty?” she retorted with a sickly sweet smile. “But let’s get to the point, Jedi. You want Killian and the clone officer, I have them. I have an associate who currently has both at gunpoint and listening to our conversation. I really don’t have to spell it out for you further.”

“You wish for us to outbid the bounty for their safe return to our custody.”

Sing nodded, “To further encourage your cooperation, there are also a number of failsafe explosives dotted about the cantina. Anything but a smooth transaction here or I see a lightsaber igniting, well, we’ll all have a bad day.”

“You don’t think the life of Admiral Killian is enough to ensure our compliance?” Koon asked curiously.

“More like I know what you’re capable of and how the Force works, Jedi. There must be more at stake in the game than just a few hostages. Now you are hostages as well from a certain point of view.”

Boba couldn’t keep his silence at this point and gasped in outrage, “You’d kill us all if they tried anything?”

“In an instant, dear,” she smiled sweetly at the boy. “Master Koon here would sense instantly if I was bluffing. This is no bluff, is it, Master Jedi?”

“No, you are fully willing to do it,” he said with certainty. “So the standing bounty is 30,000 credits for Killian and 10,000 for a clone of high level importance. We are willing to offer 50,000.”

I was sure for a moment that the rug had been pulled out from under my feet. Not that we were really in a good negotiation position at the moment but there had to be other options. What was Master Koon doing? A glance at the probability lines with prescience was throwing a bunch of them at me, quite a few of which ended with the entire cantina blowing up.

My will and thoughts carefully pushed down my bond with Master Koon.

“Master, is that a good idea?”

“Trust me, Ahsoka,” was the only reply I received.

“Aww, you can do better, Jedi,” Sing wagged a single long finger admonishingly. “Seventy.”

“Fifty-five,” Koon offered.

“Sixty-five,” she countered.

“Fifty-eight, final offer.”

Sing was silent for a long moment, clearly dragging it out and testing Master Koon’s resolve. She narrowed her eyes and eventually nodded, “Fifty-eight, agreed.”

“On your profession and bond as a bounty hunter?” Koon queried mildly.

“I survived here on the Outer Rim by knowing when to be ruthless and always keeping to my word once given,” Sing answered lazily. “Oh Boba, do holster the blaster, now.” Her tone brooked no compromise.

The boy scowled but did as he was told, automatically performing a deft and skillful spin with the WESTAR around his finger as the blaster found its way to the holster on his waist.

“We will pay and exchange at the following coordinates just outside of town,” Koon pulled out a small datapad, tapping on it briefly before showing it to Sing. She quickly referenced the location on her datapad before agreeing with a nod.

“Very well, Jedi. We will be there in fifteen.”

Master Koon stood and inclined his head to Sing briefly before turning to leave. I followed him immediately, giving no indication of any confusion or hesitation at his actions. I also got a strong impression along the bond that any discussion of this would happen later and not in the middle of a pirate freeport.

We had barely left the cantina when we were intercepted by Hondo.

“Ah, my friends, wonderful. Your business was quick and fruitful I hope?”

“That is correct,” Koon replied neutrally.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent, I was half afraid I would have to rebuild the cantina or clean up an awful mess.” He signaled to a group of weequay and droids. The eclectic group hurried back inside the cantina, most likely organizing everything so regular customers could return.

“Does Sing usually leave behind messes to clean up?” I asked curiously.

“That she does, but usually because someone makes the mistake of betraying or crossing her. An occupational hazard in her business, I can tell you,” he said almost jovially. “Most are distracted by her looks, thinking her a pushover. She was trained by Jango Fett himself and I like to think teaching her my wily ways helped a bit in contributing to who she is today.”

“Fascinating,” I murmured, it was good to get a bit of confirmation on that suspicion. It certainly went a long way to explain how Boba ended up in Sing’s care after the first Battle of Geonosis. It said something that Jango had made provision for what would happen to Boba if he ended up dying. That’s what any good Mandolorian did for their children and clan. Fett couldn’t have shown his face in the aftermath of the Civil War in the Mandalore sector nor could he send Boba there, so he improvised.

“Thank you for the use of your cantina, Ohnaka.” Koon casually flicked a high denomination cred chip towards the pirate.

The pirate lord caught it without missing a beat. “Thank you, Master Jedi. Do come again.” His attention abruptly zeroed onto someone in the distance. “Hey you! Get back to work!”

We left the pirate to his business and headed back to the shuttle.

Finally, when we were inside and the ramp was firmly closed, “Master, do we have 58,000 credits?”

“Look in troop storage locker three,” he said casually.

I frowned for a moment then did as he said, heading over to the lockers the troops could use to stow their supplemental gear on missions. Sure enough, inside was a large nondescript but very secure plasteel crate, which looked ordinary at first glance, but I was sensing a resonance in the Force - the same one that usually accompanied the Force-operated locks that was all over the Jedi Temple.

“How much is in here, Master?”

“Oh, a hundred or so.” He gestured with his hand and the crate sprang open, revealing the thick thousand credit denomination chits inside. “Count and put aside the agreed amount into the standard crate in the next locker, please.”

I did so, somewhat marveling at the amount of physical money I was so casually handling. In the future, Luke Skywalker would get a 60k bounty on his head in Imperial Credits for being the pilot that blew up the Death Star. Republic Credits in my own estimation, currently had roughly double the value of the future Imperial Credit.

The question was still, why?

“Master, if we do this, don’t we set a dangerous precedent?”

“Yes, but the Republic can ill afford the information in Killian’s head falling into the hands of the CIS. That would be even more expensive in the long run.”

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Not long after, I was piloting the shuttle to a landing at the agreed upon meeting point. It was a nice flat clearing surrounded by sloping hills that was out of view from anyone looking this way from the freeport.

Slave I was already landed there in its awkward, aft landing configuration, giving the impression you were looking at a gigantic old fashioned clothes iron.

Arrayed in front of it was Sing, Boba and another bounty hunter of infamous repute; Bossk.

The trandoshan was wearing a simple yellow pressurized suit, a white flak vest, and a harness featuring a full array of gadgetry and ammunition pouches for what looked like a micro grenade launcher, which he was casually cradling in his arms. He wore no shoes, but that was probably because he liked to use his very dangerous clawed feet as yet another close range weapon.

I was seriously tempted to just reach out and snap his neck. How many wookiees would I save from the regular hunts that bastard went on?

Kneeling in front of the line of bounty hunters, was Admiral Killian and the clone navigator, both looking rather worse for wear, but alive and breathing.

I took a deep breath and cast the notion and temptation from my mind quickly, before triggering my pilot seat to lower into the trooper bay below. Master Koon already had the credit crate hovering by his side and triggered the shuttle ramp to lower.

We descended together and with a few long steps we were standing opposite the line of bounty hunters.

“It’s all there?” Sing asked casually.

“See for yourself,” Master Koon gave the crate a slight TK push to propel it towards her slowly.

She halted its flight with her boot and opened it, quickly counting it with just her eyes. Then slammed it closed with the first genuine smile on her face I’d seen yet. She radiated greed and satisfaction, she really liked money.

“Thank you for doing business,” she jerked her head to Boba.

The youth scowled and used a knife to cut off the binds of the hostages and pulled off their gags.

“Up, on your feet,” the boy groused.

Killian and the clone navigator stood, rubbing their wrists. Killian was not exactly in the prime of his life, being in his late seventies or so and winced with every step he made towards us.

I kept my focus and senses on the hunters, whilst spreading my awareness, weary for some sort of double-cross that they might try to pull. Prescience didn’t show a high likelihood, but I was detecting some mutinous intent from Boba. He clearly wasn’t liking the idea that the people he saw as his best tickets to Mace Windu were leaving his grasp.

Sing must’ve sensed it as well, because she casually walked over and stood behind Boba, putting her hands over his shoulders in a seemingly motherly gesture of support. I could see the message she was conveying to the boy though.

“Aurra Sing,” Master Koon began. “Tread carefully. Republic space will no longer be a friendly port of call for you. When this war is over, the Jedi will seek justice.”

She smirked and waved goodbye with a two fingered gesture to her forehead. Then picked up the crate herself, quickly climbed up the boarding ramp of Slave I and vanished inside. Bossk gave a pointed hiss to Boba and the boy turned away to join the trandoshan in also boarding their ride.

“Come, little ‘Soka, we must see to Admiral Killian and Disk, they could do with some basic medical attention before we return.”

Slave I took off as we boarded the Nu shuttle. I hurried to grab its medical supplies and got to work.

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” Killian grimaced as I wiped and sterilized numerous scratches and bruises on his face. A brief look at his body through the Force showed I had lots more work to do. He had numerous cracked ribs and a broken right ankle, the latter he wasn’t feeling unless he did a hyperextension of his foot.

“You’re welcome, Admiral. I’m going to ask you to stay off this foot for now,” I had to cut away his normal leather shoe to prevent jostling that foot too much, before placing a long medical boot over his foot. A press of a small button had it stiffen to immobilize the foot, then start to fill with a minor amount of bacta from its internal reservoirs. “Master Koon, I’m curious, where did you get the credits from?”

The Jedi Master was helping the naval clone with basic first aid as well. “From Coruscant of course,” he chuckled. “I suppose now that the money’s gone and Sing is flying away from the planet as we speak, it doesn’t matter. The credit chits we used in this transaction are perfectly normal legitimate currency and every scan she is undoubtedly running on it will prove that. However, what she will not detect is something new that some very clever Jedi slicers have come up with.”

“We have dedicated slicers?” I asked in astonishment. How could I’ve missed that?

“It’s not something that is generally made known, little ‘Soka. You could say they’re a small reclusive circle of Jedi that fall under the purview of the Council of First Knowledge. They scout for new members carefully in the Jedi Academy, those who show talent in computer skills and mathematics.”

“So what did they do to the credit chits?”

“The specifics I couldn’t hope to explain to you, but they managed to hide a ‘spike virus’ on them. The effect is that the virus will stealthily infect any financial device used to verify the chit. They will then report back the moment they detect any connection to the Holonet. Every single credit is infected.”

“So you wish to track Sing this way?”

“Not just her,” Master Koon said, as he carefully helped Disk to pull off his torn naval uniform shirt. “The Council wishes to gain intelligence on the illicit financial networking between the Outer Rim and the core worlds. It’s also hoped that she will carry this wealth and the virus to the CIS.”

That made me wish I could be a fly on the wall of the Council meeting when they eventually received the report from the slicers. It was a remarkably simple idea for possibly getting a picture of the actual financial channels both legitimate and black market. It would be very slow going at first. Sing would spend her newly gained funds on fuel for the Slave I, but eventually with only the CIS as a friendly port, her money would be spent on luxuries and indulgences there - it was sentient nature, especially when you received such a jackpot increase of funds.

My attention was next on Admiral Kilian’s ribs. I directed the Force to flow to the affected areas, ease up on the swelling a bit and numbed the pain just enough. It would be dangerous to get rid of it completely, as the pain was a useful tool for reminding the man to take it easy. The bones were already in the process of healing naturally, which I sped up with a careful infusion of the Force. “Admiral, the good news is that your ribs are just cracked. No need for surgery or nano-droid work. There’s no danger of getting a puncture of your lungs unless someone kicks you there again or you aggravate it yourself. I prescribe a single bacta dunk, at least a week off-duty and in bed.”

He grimaced at the prospect, “You’re killing me, Master Jedi,” his northern Corellian accent came through strongly.

“A normal doctor would give you two weeks, Admiral. I’ve sped up the healing process already, so make sure you eat well on the Defiance as we journey back to Coruscant. I also notice your caf intake is rather high. Now I enjoy a good cup as well, but not to this level and especially not at your age and with this injury.”

“By the blood, now you’re really doin’ it.”

I grabbed some extra padding off one of the unused seats of the shuttle and carefully inserted it behind his back for extra cushioning.

“Get us back to the Defiance, Ahsoka. I’d rather not linger here, lest we are delayed by an unfortunate pirate testing his luck. I’ll watch over your patients,” Master Koon’s cheeks openly turned into a smile behind his breather mask

I tried to accept his teasing with as much grace as possible and headed for the cockpit of the shuttle.

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The return journey to Coruscant was mercifully quiet and routine.

Master Koon could only spare me an hour or two per day on further Tutaminis training as he had to pick up the slack from the still recovering Mace Windu. I also kept myself busy when not training, by checking in with my steadily burgeoning covert network and what they were doing. Only to discover that HK-47 and Hermione had achieved a significant milestone, finding and recruiting the first ‘operatives’ on Corellia and Alderaan, marking the point where the network was finally stretching its wings beyond just Coruscant.

Who HK had recruited was something that served as a reminder to me just how bloody experienced and good the droid was in not only assassination, but any general covert activity, as the two generally had a lot of overlap. Reading his decrypted report made me want to both crush the droid in an industrial press and hug him in sincere gratitude.

That bloody droid had recruited Garm Bel Iblis himself into the network. He didn’t go into the exact detail on how, just noting that the Corellian was naturally in support of anything whose stated goal was to oppose Palpatine, his ever increasing political power and that HK had played up that angle considerably. The droid had also demonstrated the network’s ‘effectiveness’ to the Corellian senator.

Giving the senator some very handy political leverage on a local rival politician by providing evidence of some good old fashioned graft schemes and a sex scandal. HK had also done a number of other ‘good deeds’ among the Corellian underworld to fulfill his need for ‘eliminating meatbags in a most satisfactory and ironic manner as possible’. Such as a local organized crime boss primarily dealing in the sex trade, suddenly being found dead of a heart attack while he himself was ‘doing the deed’.

Hermione, on the other hand, had managed to make a contact while negotiating a services extension contract for Corusca Online on Alderaan. This wasn't too earth shattering, but she had pulled in Dulgan Teral of House Teral. A noble house that had familial ties with Organa and was primarily involved in finance and trade these days. It definitely meant that the network would not find itself lacking in funds for its operations in a pinch.

By the time the Defiance docked in the Coruscant Shipyards and we transferred back to the Jedi Temple, I could finally put words to the general feel of the galaxy and events that were about to come.

It was the deep breath before the plunge - a sentiment that was only further reinforced when I looked at the picture of the galactic map and the movements of the CIS and Republic fleets.

Looking at the scope and enormity of it all brought home the fact that I needed to knuckle down and get started on learning Battle Meditation. The clock was ticking.

All I had on the technique at the moment were theories and deductions from my own studies in the Force, combined with what I knew had been achieved in the past.

The question of who would be best to approach was something I also had to be careful with. The need for secrecy and avoiding Palpatine’s foresight and his other forms of penetrating the Jedi Temple’s security made it a no-brainer that I would have to request Yoda’s holocron and use it when away from Coruscant.

The frustrating thing was that I knew there was someone far more skilled on the Council in Battle Meditation, who would be an even better teacher.

Master Oppo Rancisis.

Unfortunately, the Thisspiasian Jedi Master was probably the busiest Jedi Master on the Council, since he was the main strategic military mind behind most of the Jedi and GAR’s movements. Whilst Yoda was the one who pointed the way, it was Master Rancisis who dealt with the question of ‘how to best make it happen’. He was rarely shown in my past life simply because such matters were hardly glorious and spectacular to be worthy of gripping an audience.

There was just no way I could envision even getting to see the master, even if I technically had every right to approach him.

The possibility was taken out of my hands just as Anakin received his clean bill of health and he returned to full duty.

The Force, however, didn’t give its Chosen One the luxury of idle hands for long.

That was how I found myself standing next to Anakin in the communications center being addressed by the holo of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“We have obtained intelligence out of the Besh Gorgon system in CIS space, an undercover Jedi there has intercepted a communication that indicates an imminent attack on the Kamino system.”

The Jedi Master’s holo vanished to be replaced with a very distorted rendering of Asajj Ventress, indicating it had been heavily encrypted and decrypted, with numerous data artifacts rendered as distorted blocks.

“...the clone planet of Kamino will be a d- d- dangerous target.”

The holo was replaced by the towering, armored form of General Durge. “Am I hearing the beginning of an excuse for failure, little dathomirian? The planet that is producing so many clones of that damnable Jango Fett must be sterilized to the bedrock! I want to boil its oceans!”

Ventress wasn’t phased at all by the insulting address. “As laudable as that enthusiasm is, rest assured I will do my p- p- par…ttt….”

The holo completely distorted and broke apart, before a rather grim faced Obi-Wan returned.

“What do you need, Master?” Anakin asked with determination.

“Both of you, the Resolute and the entire 501st. While the Kamino garrison and blockade fleet is substantial, it’s a known quantity by now to the Separatists. I’m bringing the Negotiator and most of the 5th Fleet to Kamino with all speed.”

“Master, has there been any thought as to just how the Seppies are even in a position to launch an attack? We’ve driven them away from that sector decisively. Their forces should be well bottled up in the south.” I asked pointedly.

“You ask an excellent question, padawan. On the face of it, any force large enough to attack Kamino with any hope of success should be easily spotted or stopped cold on the various fronts. Yet here we have Durge and Ventress discussing an attack candidly and as fact. The chance that this is a deliberate false conversation staged for us we can’t rule out, but in the same vein we can’t afford to ignore it either. Just because we can’t imagine how the enemy would achieve it, doesn’t mean they can’t do it.”

“Another question is whether we have enough time, it’s a roughly seven day trip to Kamino for the Resolute,” Anakin said.

“Then I suggest you make best speed, Anakin. I’ll be arriving in two days. Until then, the blockade fleet and garrison must hold out.”

“We’re on our way, Master.”

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Resolute got underway on the journey to Kamino relatively quickly. The ship had long since finished its resupply and maintenance cycle since it had unloaded the Zillo beast corpse into the hands of Republic R&D. As usual, the only delays were simply due to the congested nature of the Coruscant system itself.

The mood on board from every clone was tense, yet they were also filled with a grim determination. They considered Kamino their home and more than any other place in the galaxy would gladly fight and die to protect it with no orders required. I wondered if what I was seeing was a conditioned behavior from the kaminoan cloners or if this was just a genuine natural feeling of protectiveness towards their home that most sentients developed. I was leaning towards the latter and it was something that the kaminoans just took advantage of without interfering.

That first day in hyperspace was mostly spent in my quarters as I probed the future with prescience. Durge’s presence and the veiled strategic mind behind him, instead of just Grievous, would make this coming battle an affair that would not be simple. Yet that was counterbalanced by the fact that neither Palpatine nor Dooku could afford a CIS victory at Kamino. The production of clones needed to continue, the war needed to go on, and that couldn’t happen with Kamino reduced to cinders by Durge’s hand.

As I explored the probabilities, it irked me something fierce that I was seeing no path that would truly hurt Palpatine or the Sith cause. I was firmly wedged in a corner, playing my role on the stage. I had to do everything in my power to defend Kamino, because doing otherwise would see me pulled off the board. It would be condemning the clones to a fiery death en masse.

I pulled myself out of the future because it only served to make me angry at this point and turned to do something actually productive.

My will reached out and the holocron hovered over to my meditation mat on the floor. A slight application of the Force in just the right spot and the device burst into bright life, before blossoming open in an intricate display of mechanics that could only be achieved with the union of the Force and technology.

Holo-Yoda appeared directly on top of the device, the diminutive, ancient master’s ears perked upward with a warm smile on his green face.

“Ah, young Ahsoka, to see you again, good it is.”

“And you Master Yoda,” I smiled, feeling the invisible burden lift off my shoulders. Here was one of the few ways I could be truly open and honest in how I spoke and not constantly weighing and seeing every word for its probable impact on the future.

“A request, you have?”

“Yes, I want to begin learning the ways of Battle Meditation.”

Holo-Yoda rested his hands contemplatively on his gimer stick, “Hmmm. Battle Meditation, yes. Learn it, why?”

I looked inward and examined my feelings, going over my thoughts on the topic. “At this point, I just want to learn it for the sake of the knowledge itself. I know how potentially useful it could be in any war. Its use is limited in this one by the fact that you can’t exactly demoralize droids and make them lose their will to fight. It would help the clones, but their battle conditioning prevents them from experiencing a lot of the morale problems that a traditional army of sentients would experience.”

“Learning for the future, wars beyond this one, you expect.” Holo-Yoda said matter-of-factly.

I only nodded. As much as I had shared with this holocron, there were things I couldn’t. The holocron, for all its sophistication and wonders, still had its basis in the material universe and as such was subject to the problems that came with it. It was not inconceivable that it would eventually give up its secrets to a determined, smart Force Sensitive and don’t even get me started on the disaster it would be if Sidious got his hands on it.

“Correct, Master.”

I felt the lightest touch from the holocron itself through the Force. It was amazing how subtle the device was.

Holo-Yoda’s shoulders slumped slightly, “Long has peace been. Must we now pay, with era of war?”

“Balance in all things, Master.”

It was something that even the wisest and the smartest seemed to forget, using their money, their smarts, their bright new idea or their innate power, that would bring about their vision for what should be, what utopia was, then eventually the universe came down and smacked them hard. I also didn’t arrogantly exempt myself from falling into that category. I also strove for a utopia of sorts.

Holo-Yoda shook his head. “Very well. Begin we shall. Understand this about Battle Meditation; turning the tides of grand scale conflict is the crudest way. Used it can be, even in small conflicts.”

“Even in a lightsaber duel, master?”

“Yes, very difficult and talented one must be. To its basic essence, this skill, about the conflict of the heart it is. The greatest battle. To conquer all doubt, despair in the heart of a single person. All that remains, hope and drive to success. In so doing, it is brought to reality.”

Described in this way, the skill was almost beautiful to think about. “That’s rather amazing, master,” I said in fascination.

“Understand, in the beginning, a choice you must make, Ahsoka. Fight the war out there or the one in here,” he tapped his chest. “Not both. You will have to let go. Think not of future. Trust you must in the choices of your friends and allies.”

Even Holo-Yoda really knew how to cut deep into the soul and heart, “Why?”

“Concentration, required in great amount for this skill. Rare to see used and even mastered.”

“Would I lose focus of my immediate surroundings then? I’d be vulnerable to personal attack?”

“Possible. In the early stages of your training, danger there is. Sense strongly you do, every death. Inevitable, it is. Accept it. To not do so will lead to despair.”

I nodded in understanding, “Which would cause the meditation to fail utterly.”

“The first obstacle in your way, that is. Strong you are, in bonding with the Force. Another danger, do you see?”

My mind carefully worked through the problem, “I must be careful, otherwise I could end up bonding in a near permanent fashion with the entire army. All the advantages from a bond could just as well become extreme impediments, I could be overwhelmed with the thoughts and feelings of tens of thousands.”

“The first things you must train, those are. Adeptness show me, we will move on.”

I knew of ways to train concentration, but finding a way to ‘not bond’, while being so close in the heart and souls of people I had no clue. Did I have to become an uncaring asshole? Able to shrug off the death of someone and say ‘Meh’?

“Know you must of the Dark Side of Battle Meditation,” Holo-Yoda said, his bearing becoming hard and unyielding. “Our old foe, possess it they do. One day, fight against it you may.”

“It does the opposite? Sow despair into their enemy’s heart?”

“No, rare a Sith Lord is, who cares about such things. In this, they dominate the will. They push their armies to move, despite cost. Throw illusion, visualization of their will upon the mind of ally and foe.”

“What would the Jedi do to oppose that?”

“Fight directly, you cannot. The same dominance of will you would need. Only perseverance and hope, despite the darkness, can defeat this.”

“I think I understand, the answer isn’t to fight, but keep the hearts of your allies strong despite the illusions and fear.”

Holo-Yoda smiled and thumped his gimer stick, “Yes, yes, good. Now concentration techniques I will give you to practice, listen carefully…”

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We received no word of an attack on Kamino for the next three tense days.

Anakin had taken to dragging me along for three hour long, daily sparring sessions to get a work out. The mood on the ship was palpable and for us Jedi who were very sensitive to it, we either had to spend hours meditating or do training to offload those emotions.

Finally, Obi-Wan’s reinforcing fleet had arrived and his holocall was welcome news that Kamino had a much better chance of surviving the coming attack.

“I’m sending a stealth frigate and cloaked scouts along the most likely approaches, so we will receive some forewarning of their arrival,” he said. His holo in the primary aft holotank of the Resolute’s bridge was not maintaining the best coherence, due to distance combined with the fact that we were in hyperspace.

“It’s the unlikely routes that we should be looking at,” Anakin retorted, folding his arms.

“I only have so many scouts, Anakin.”

“What’s the condition of the local garrison, Master?” I asked curiously.

“It could be better, they’ve been at high alert levels for nearly five days now. That is taking a toll. I’ve ordered them all onto the six hour watch rotation, that will hopefully help things.”

“My padawan and I have come up with a possibility you should look at while you’re there,” Anakin said, giving me a sideways glance.

“What is it?”

“First, they’re going to use the Trellius.”

Obi-Wan frowned for a moment, “To use the Trellius Route from northern CIS space, would mean a journey of nearly twenty-two days along the fringes of the galaxy. Add to that the size of the fleet needed to conceivably attack Kamino, means the fuel and logistical requirements are almost completely impractical.”

“Normally, you’d be correct,” Anakin acknowledged.

“There’s also the matter that the Trellius partially curves right through Hutt space. The hutts would’ve instantly thrown up a fuss and alerted us.”

“I agree,” he shrugged.

“Then why are you telling me this?”

“Master,” I continued the explanation. “Think of this question, what would the CIS need to do, to keep the hutt’s quiet about this large fleet?”

Obi-wan combed his beard with his fingers and thought for a few moments, “Money.”

“Yes, a very large amount, but what else do hutts value and prize highly?”

The Jedi Master closed his eyes, “Their young.”

“It’s not inconceivable that Dooku simply commissioned the abduction of the offspring of one or more members of the Grand Hutt Council. Do that and combined with credits or other forms of wealth, a simple miscommunication between treaty allies can be bought.”

Obi-wan stared at the both of us alternately, clearly not liking what we were saying. “What else?”

“We both think the Separatists are actually already there.”

“What?! I’d think we’d already be under attack if that were the case, Anakin.”

“Not the full fleet, Master. More than likely a special operation vanguard, that came in under cloak and is now using the vast oceans of Kamino to hide in.”

“A starship that can not only cloak, but is also a submersible?” Obi-Wan was clearly skeptical.

“Obi-Wan, Kamino is a strategic world, if the CIS has to design a special warship from scratch that would be ideal to operate in this environment, then they’d be willing to throw a lot of credits and brains into building it. Not to mention droids built to fight underwater. They’re not exactly lacking in labor.”

“You and your padawan make good arguments, Anakin. I will begin to discreetly search for any such submersible warships. If they do exist, I will begin looking into countermeasures. The kaminoans must have some means of conducting underwater defense as well.”

“Good luck,” Anakin smirked.

The Jedi Master sighed wearily, “See you soon, Anakin.”

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The urgency of the situation led to the Resolute doing something that could only be done under the cover of a lot of ships. At this point there were almost twenty-two Venators, eight Acclamators and sixteen Arquitens light cruisers arrayed loosely just outside the mass shadow of Kamino in randomized orbits, but keeping themselves within extreme missile ranges of each other. It almost reminded me of a backline of Rugby players that would converge the instant an opposition player tried to breach their half.

The ship powered through the atmosphere and soon docked itself directly to one of the gigantic city towers that seemingly grew out of the ever turbulent ocean world. Tipoca City was just another example of how sentient-made structures tended to be utterly BIG in this galaxy. The massive military complex and cloning facilities represented about ten of the domed stilted structures, each slightly larger than a Venator. However, that was just one cluster of the city. Its true size encompassed more domes that were spread out over 160 square kilometers of the equator.

The 501st Clone Legion disembarked orderly in their parade formations through the starboard docking tube in one long line of over ten thousand troopers.

The sheer feeling of purpose and conviction from all those troops behind myself and Anakin as we led them out into the city of their birth was quite overwhelming.

Standing to the side of the gigantic docking and arrival area, which would allow the 501st to array itself as a whole for inspection and issuing of orders, was Obi-wan, Jedi Master Shaak Ti, and the Kaminoan Prime Minister Lama Su.

“Knight Skywalker, Padawan Tano, welcome to Kamino,” Shaak Ti bowed her head slightly to us.

“Greetings General, Commander,” Lama Su said pleasantly. The very tall, thin necked kaminoan, with giant sparkly black eyes set in a small crested head had me feeling very creeped out. This was not just because of how his appearance resonated with my past life, but also because of how I was perceiving him in the Force.

Perhaps this was just the unfortunate confluence of him being a politician, business ‘man’ and an isolationist xenophobe at heart? He wore a perfect outward bearing that gave zero offense and nothing even remotely hinted at it, but this being hated me. He hated Anakin, he hated Shaak Ti. He didn’t even want us on his world and wanted to scrub the decking to cleanse it as we walked, or at least get a clone to do it.

“It’s a pleasure to be here at last,” Anakin bowed his head. “I hope that with the 501st here we can make a difference.”

“No doubt they will,” said Su lazily. “As you suggested, we have run sweeps of the ocean floor around the city, but found no sign of any CIS forces.”

“My scouts have also found no sign of an incoming fleet from any direction as yet,” Obi-wan said evenly. He gestured for us to begin walking towards a nearby turbolift.

If alarm bells had been going off, now I was getting a bloody parade of red flags in my head. There was something very wrong about what Obi-wan had said, but I kept my peace.

“Skyguy…” I thought.

“I see it, Snips. We must trust there’s a good reason for this.”

We walked at a stately, unhurried pace, even though I wanted to scream and jump for us to hurry up!

The lift doors closed around us and Master Ti selected a floor that would bring us deep to within the bowels of the military complex.

Obi-wan pulled out a small device, pressed a few buttons and it chimed as its functions activated; a surveillance scrambler.

“Right, so what did you really find?” Anakin asked pointedly.

“The Separatists thought they were so clever with their cloaking devices,” Su practically radiated smugness. “They and the greater galaxy are not fully aware of kaminoan technology and our mastery of the ocean environment. We’ve detected twelve ships with new profiles that are loosely based on a Trident class assault ship, modified for underwater operations.”

“And the reason for the doublespeak is because they’re already tapped into the city and watching,” I deduced.

Su only nodded.

“My own cloaked scouts caught the CIS assault fleet sneaking through the nearby Varristad system; they made the final jump into the Kamino Oort cloud roughly four hours ago,” Obi-wan explained.

“What are they waiting for? Why haven’t they attacked already?” Anakin scowled.

“More than likely conducting detailed cloaked reconnaissance on our defense fleet’s orbits around Kamino, trying to tailor a hyperspace attack that will knock our ships out quickly.”

“Tell me you have a plan,” Anakin narrowed his eyes at his former master.

“Oh, I do,” Obi-wan grinned wryly.

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A/N: All war is shadow and deception. Gonna have fun with this battle. Hope you enjoyed and have a good weekend.

Ahsoka Action Study

As it says on the tin, I wanted to draw something more dynamic. This involves digital and hand drawn as medium.

This is Ahsoka before she got the Darksaber. It's going to be interesting to draw her with the three lightsabers in a duel setting at one point... oh boy.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 12

If you told me a year ago, my first true ‘battle’ as a hero with other heroes would be with a bunch of mutated cats and dogs, I would’ve told my interlocutor that they should ease up on the drug use a little. If you told me after I triggered or became an SCP, I would’ve not changed my tune at all. Even if someone told me yesterday, I would’ve looked at them weirdly.

I misted immediately to avoid being practically buried by six dogs and three cats who were snarling and hissing in hungry anger.

A cat and dog died in the next moment when their fellow mutants accidentally bit them and in reflex tore and shredded whatever their teeth could bite down on.

I reappeared to the side, giving myself some space and in the process keeping my fellow heroes behind me.

I leveled ‘15 towards the pack of mutant animals. My thumb double tapped a specific bit of the pipe.

A mass of air, traveling roughly over ninety miles an hour blasted out of ‘15’s lower end. Concentrated as it was, and with the concentrated air pressure, it had the effect of blasting the pack apart and scattering them, flying through the air with wildly spinning arcs. Those mutants who bore the brunt of it directly were partially torn apart in flashes of blood and gore.

Others impacted against walls of the nearby house and some hit the nearby train. How ‘15 dealt with the recoil I should’ve felt, I had no idea. It only ever said that it ‘ignored’ the force.

I had no time to celebrate that victory as two Pit Bulls the size of a small car charged at me next.

Waiting until the last second, I misted and let them smash into each other.

I was about to pull the same trick, but Armsmaster had finished turning three mutants into gibbets with the smoothest, economical attacks that I’d ever witnessed and that included the well rehearsed bullshit that came from Hollywood. He then gave three long strides that put him in range of the Pit Bulls.

The first he hit with the reverse end of the halberd, delivering a painful electric shock that left it twitching on the ground, whilst in another twirl he beheaded the second with the plasma blade of the other end.

Assault and Battery also showed why they were a team.

She hit him with a punch, the energy of which he used to surge forward and practically dropkick two mutant dogs with such force that it looked like they had been launched out of a circus cannon. The dogs smashed against the side of the train so hard that they were pancaked into deformed meat piles that splattered blood and gore outward.

Assault used his fall to gain more energy, getting back to a vertical base, whilst Battery kicked two mutant felines to crash through the wooden walls of the nearby house.

I decided to keep myself misted for the moment, rising upward to get a better view of the battlefield.

Either this neighborhood loved their pets or the field had caught a lot of strays or maybe I had just never conceived of how many cats and dogs could be in 30 odd homes.

The three heroes seemed to have everything well in hand despite the frenetic pace of fighting the mutant creatures. I found myself rather hesitant to continue helping as I witnessed the teamwork on display. I was an untrained wildcard and anything I did while helping from my point of view might end up screwing up things for them.

I retreated a bit, opening up a twenty foot gap, then picked a random creature on the edges of the pack.

I demisted in mid-air, bringing down ‘15 in an overhead swing, using my weight and gravity to add to the strength and utterly pulped the head of a mutated rottweiler.

Every creature in the immediate vicinity turned and tried to attack me again, some even abandoning their attacks on Armsmaster to run for me.

“What bullshit!” I snapped in annoyance before misting. What on this earth did this SCP have against me? Henry had indicated that SCPs were generally ‘aware’ of each other, there was nothing that stopped them from fighting or a ‘type preference’, but neither did they decide to be so immediately antagonistic unless they were related such as SCP 073 and 076, the manifestations of the biblical Cain and Able. Perhaps because I was ‘helping’ what the SCP train saw as its adversary?

Armsmaster made immediate use of the opening I had provided, sweeping his halberd through two entire rows of creatures who had turned their backs on him.

“Escort, wait ten seconds then attack again!” he shouted, as he fended off the slavering jaws of a creature with the base of his halberd, pushed it off, then bisected it neatly.

I saw what he was getting at immediately.

My next target was what had probably been a German Shepard. It was at this point that the horror and heart ache of seeing these animals so utterly corrupted hit home.

I demisted and put the creature out of its misery.

My aim had been shit and I ended up slamming the thing across the back, breaking it and disabling its hindquarters.

I had no time to finish it off as the much thinner herd of corrupted creatures tried to rush me again.

Armsmaster and Assault both attacked this time, killing eight of them in less than two seconds.

Battery leaped up and grabbed a hold of a streetlight to pause for her ‘recharge cycle’ in relative safety.

I was back in mist form and after two more cycles of using their instant aggression on me to gain advantage, the last creature, what had been an oversized tabby was dispatched.

Far from gaining any reprieve or breather, Armsmaster suddenly looked at his left foot and jumped immediately for the tarmac of the road.

“Stay off the grass!”

I blinked at his sudden order and sure enough there was something wrong with the narrow front lawn of the house.

Their color was… blue? I hovered closer and saw that every individual blade of grass had grown two inches and was now absolutely straight and seemed to flex and move. They were also hard, as if they were organic blades.

Armsmaster whirled to address his two fellows, “Leave, top speed, that’s an order!”

Assault and Battery obeyed, bouncing off each other, becoming blurs of speed and vanished down the road.

I reappeared next to him, “Why?”

“If this thing is capable of rewriting and reforming biology so quickly, Escort, think of the trees around us.” I stared up at the towering trees that surrounded us, thinking of what biological nightmare the SCP train could possibly change them into. “If something like that occurs, this will most likely be declared an A-class scenario, with a provisional S-class if it is determined that the trees will replicate beyond the 650 foot radius. Do you understand?”

I had a good idea. It meant that nothing was off the table for dealing with this, from outright quarantining the Bay, calling in the Triumvirate to utterly erase the suburb from existence, to nuking the whole city. Brockton Bay would go into the history books as another Ellisburg, a town who had been doomed by the cape Nillbog, who could rewrite biology of others with a mere touch to anything in his demented imagination.

He suddenly lurched towards me and I was so startled by it that for a moment he managed to grab me about the shoulders and pull me in an embrace with him.

My ears picked up thuds as I misted and shot up into the air.

“Escort, stay out of phase,” he ordered. His halberd pointed at the ground near his feet.

I looked at what lay there and understood. He hadn’t tried to ‘attack’ me at all.

On the tarmac were sharp barbed spines - that had been shot at me from the trees.

Even as I watched Armsmaster’s helmet closed up completely as more barbed spines lanced out of the air and bounced off his armor.

The trees themselves were shooting them.

I flew closer and saw that they had grown from their limbs cone-like pods that were somehow adapted to shoot those barbs. Anyone not wearing armor would be impaled on them at the speed they fired.

What more bullshit havoc was this SCP going to pull?

Armsmaster weathered the storm of spines stoically for another full two minutes before it ended at last. All the trees in range had let off hundreds of shots before they had run out of ‘ammo’ in their pods. The tarmac and road around him was absolutely covered by spines.

He twisted his halberd, adjusting some sort of setting on it and from one end flames began to billow, which he began to spray over all the spines on the ground. He had clearly recognized a danger from it and he was taking no chances.

Soon a small section of the road was in flames as the spines burned and he walked down the train wearily, waiting for the next form of attack it would try.

The next thing I heard was an actual gunshot.

Armsmaster turned and aimed his halberd at a new figure that actually stepped off the train into view.

A man wearing an orange jumpsuit with a pistol fired again.

I now saw the bullet spark of Armsmaster’s chest armor, scratching the blue paint off.

He twisted the halberd, and fired from the end a set of taser barbs that stabbed into the man, who began twitching violently before falling to the ground. The pistol remained in his grip, firing off rounds ineffectually into the train’s undercarriage.

Then a detail clicked in my head, something Henry had said about the Foundation.

I zoomed myself towards the house roof and demisted, lying prone to the rough surface with a wince to remain out of sight from the train. Then carefully scrutinized the shooter with true sight.

My hands fumbled briefly at ‘15 as I pulled out my phone and contacted Armsmaster.

He answered the instant I heard a single ringtone.

“Escort,” he acknowledged as he stopped tasing the shooter.

“Armsmaster, listen to me carefully. That is not a human. It might have all the trappings but it’s a trojan horse. It’s another vector for the train to influence things around it. In this case… look!”

“I see it,” he said grimly.

From all along the train’s possible exits, more human figures in orange jumpsuits were emerging. Now that there were more, some stepped into the glare of the overhead street lighting. They were a mix of men and women, but all the men shared the same face, whilst the women had a variation of three different faces and body types.

Of all the practices of the Foundation, this one ranked up there as the most heinous.

The secret organization carefully scoured from their Earth’s prisons, conscripting convicted criminals into disposable slave laborers and expendable test subjects. There they were forced to interact with SCPs to suffer the anomalous effects they induced in humans in experimentation, including handling any other dangerous work the Foundation required in their facilities that often incurred a high death rate. They no longer had names, reduced to being a number stitched on their orange jumpsuits.

They were the so-called ‘D-class personnel’.

The Foundation had most likely fed these people to the SCP, they had died and now it was using them as mutated meat puppets, including using its mutation ability to create more of them from the flesh it had pulled in with its sleepwalking trick over the many decades it had been active. Where it got the orange jumpsuits from or the functioning pistols, more SCP bullshit.

“Armsmaster, how well can…”

“As long as they only have these 9mm Beretta, they can shoot at me all day and achieve nothing.”

His point was proved when the D-class clones raised their pistols and opened fire. I winced as the rapid blasts and concussion hit my ears. The clones employed no tactics and only those in the front shot towards the hero.

Armsmaster didn’t make it easy for them.

With bullets bouncing and sparking off his armor, he charged down the clones and body checked through them with his speed, mass and momentum, doing a fair imitation of a bowling ball knocking over pins. The meaty thwacks as bodies bounced against the exotic armor was awful to hear. Armsmaster also employed his halberd as the clones began to dodge his charge, either clotheslining them or delivering more disabling taser shocks as he went.

Then the obvious danger occurred, when clones from the other side of the train began appearing at the front of the train, trying to dislodge the exterior wall that had been placed there. I didn’t need to warn him at all, as his charge had already been heading towards the locomotive.

He unleashed a flurry of strikes with his halberd, using the taser function on one end and blunt force at the other, where instead of a plasma blade, it had now changed to a baton.

Clones either collapsed or went flying onto their backs as he went back and forth, defending the wall and preventing them from getting their hands on it. They occasionally managed to get shots off from their pistols, but his fighting prioritized not being an easy target and knocking the pistols out of their hands.

This fight continued for a full minute, but quickly it became obvious that the SCP was not going to run out of the clones that it was throwing at him. The disabled, wounded or unconscious bodies were beginning to pile up and the clones were slowly starting to push Armsmaster away from the locomotive by sheer numbers and using the piled bodies to limit his movements.

I wished I could help, but using true sight and poking mentally at the clones with my mind web it was clear that there would be no mastering these things. Their brains were rudimentary, no higher functions, just enough to energize and control the bodies, which were being directly puppeted by the SCP train. From its own point of view, the human clones were just another tool to use in its program.

“Armsmaster, you can’t keep going like this. These are not people. There’s no one home up stairs,” I hissed into my phone. “If this train gets moving again…”

He didn’t acknowledge me but after an agonizing few moments, I saw him change his halberd.

Two plasma blades now sprouted from either end and he began chopping and dicing. He also threw two grenades into the steadily approaching throng of clones on either side of the train. These expanded into containment foam grenades which eventually created a decent barrier and slowed them down.

“Escort, your aerokinetic weapon, I need you to do a little cleaning. Appear behind me so you’re shielded from their gunfire, stay unphased for as little time as possible.”

Tinges of fear and nerves shot down my spine at the thought of possibly getting shot. I could probably heal myself after the fact if it didn’t hit me in the head, but it was not exactly something I could test or relish the thought of doing.

“On my way,” I eventually managed to say.

I hung up and stowed the phone in its pouch, took a deep breath and misted.

I hovered overhead, watching as Armsmaster’s breathtaking display of power armor assisted martial arts continued. How long he could keep going was an open question, but he hadn’t yet shown any signs of faltering or fatigue. He was either fit as fiddle or his armor was greatly aiding in reducing the effort required to pull this stuff off. It was probably both in this case.

The moment came.

A swipe of his halberd including a kick and finally my instincts screamed that here was my chance.

I appeared behind him and knelt, aiming ‘15 toward the left side of the train.

The aerokinetic blast that issued forth had my ears popping from the pressure differential it suddenly imposed on the area. This blast was way more powerful than anything I had expected and clearly ‘15 was judging that the usual stuff we had practiced before was just not powerful enough. It wasn’t exactly like I had a convenient place to fire off near hurricane level wind blasts without letting the entire city know.

This blast was definitely nearing the 120mph level, because it picked up the clones and their bodies, truly scattering them like leaves in the wind. The energy imparted on the air continued and tore at the nearby house, breaking windows and sending the roof decking flying off.

I pulled ‘15 back and aimed to the other side, fighting against the urge to gape stupidly in surprise at what the sentient pipe had managed.

Another wind blast issued forth and I cried out in pain as I felt my eardrums start to bleed.

The blast picked up clones, various body parts and dead bodies, flinging them off to the other side of the road and into the trees. The trees themselves also weren’t spared from the wrath of the wind, with numerous branches snapping and entire trees bending over, partially uprooted.

“Phase yourself,” Armsmaster snapped in the aftermath.

Easy for him to say, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain enough to focus and mist.

In misty form the pain thankfully vanished as I rose into the air.

That had definitely bought the hero some time, as he strode forward to resume guarding the wall on the nose of the train.

The SCP seemed to pause for a moment, all the remaining clones stopping in their tracks but it just as quickly resumed, pumping out clones from the doors and hatches of the train cars.

There was an immediate difference now though. The clones weren’t attacking, instead they formed into a crowd of nearly one hundred, on each side of the train.

Two hundred odd clones rushing at once in a human wave would swiftly overwhelm even Armsmaster and all his gadgets.

The hero just stood there, his halberd still in plasma blade mode and seemingly staring down the crowd of clones without worry. He was like an unmovable bastion standing against a human tide of flesh and orange that wanted to see him fall.

Then wind and the muffled sound of rotary wings chopping through air reached my ears and out of the sky, almost looking like a large black wraith, a PRT helicopter descended to a level just above the trees. It presented its side towards the train and in the open doors was a heroine that would’ve had me shouting in victory if I wasn’t in misty form.

Miss Militia, in her costume of custom army fatigues with a scarf and sash patterned in the American flag glared down at the mass of clones. A green and black energy snaked around her body, seemingly acting of its own accord, before it abruptly seemed to expand, brighten and encompass her entire upper body and arms.

When it faded, she was brandishing a rotary minigun with an ammo backpack.

Armsmaster knelt down and that was seemingly the signal as the minigun began abruptly spinning and belching long tongues of flame.

The torrent of bullets heralded by the occasional tracer round, shot through the air like they were straight out of some sci-fi movie and tore into the crowd of clones.

The rounds were powerful enough to punch through and kill multiple clones with each shot.

Militia walked the minigun fire from right to left in bursts. First firing into the left side crowd, then shooting into the right side crowd.

The effect was ghastly and devastating to look at.

Blood and other human viscera began pouring out onto the tarmac of the road.

At the rate of fire Miss Militia was pouring out, it didn’t take long for her to run out of ammunition, which happened after just forty odd seconds of burst firing her minigun into the rapidly thinning crowd of clones.

More began walking out of the train, as the SCP just concluded coldly and logically that it could outlast its opponents.

The problem was I had a horrible thought that it probably could, given that it was an SCP with access to a dimension of infinite train cars.

Miss Militia’s minigun and backpack flashed into a writhing black-green energy, before it disappeared and the minigun was seemingly back?

The reason for this became apparent as she just calmly and professionally resumed fire.

Wait… Militia had technically infinite ammo!

The rhythmic bellow of the minigun spewing lead downrange was almost mesmerizing to watch. It also seemed that something had changed now as the bullets were penetrating through even more clones at once. Did she change her ammo type as well?

It was the only explanation I could think of.

She must also have been in communication with Armsmaster as she diverted her fire to focus left of the train, whilst he stood and rushed down the right.

My mind clicked with an idea. I rushed myself down the road and out of the train’s AOE and reappeared.

The pain of my ears hit me full force again and I had to spare precious seconds to stem the bleeding and start the healing process. I could still hear well enough though, so fished out my phone again and called Armsmaster.

“Escort, nicely done. Thank you.”

“Yes, yes, Armsmaster, inform Miss Militia that she is in this for the long haul, this train has access to higher dimensional internal volume than what we are physically seeing. I deduce that it’s been in operation on another Earth or Earths for maybe six decades at least. Imagine for a moment how many possible clones of its victims it could make as quickly as it mutated the animals. We need a quick containment solution.”

He paused for a moment to absorb my words, “From your tone, you have an idea?”

“Yes, it’s a short term solution and we can do it right now. We need containment foam grenades and set them off at each of the exits the clones are using.”

“I’ve used my own allotment of such grenades, Escort. Stand-by.” He paused for a few seconds and the area resounded with a deep mechanical roar as Miss Militia’s minigun resumed firing. Another few seconds passed and finally, “A trooper on the helicopter is gathering all the grenades they have on-board. I’ve called on an armored PRT riot tanker that can disperse mass amounts of foam. This vehicle will take at least thirty minutes to get here from its staging point.”

It didn’t take a genius to guess his idea, “You think you can cover the entire train?”

“Containment foam has mild radiation shielding properties.”

“Is there anything this stuff can’t do?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s very versatile, Escort. Now get those grenades, the trooper is waiting.”

“On it.”

I eyed the hovering helicopter, misted and shot myself up into the air.

Once inside the cabin, I struggled to find a relatively safe spot to reappear as the helicopter was also packed with eleven burly PRT troopers all armed with battle rifles.

The only spot I found was literally next to Miss Militia who was hooked into a harness system whilst she was firing out the open side door.

When I appeared, I frantically grabbed an overhead handhold to maintain my balance.

Miss Militia and the nearest troopers flinched in surprise despite their advanced warning of my coming. Yes, I was probably the most out of place I’d ever felt in my life - a naked girl in a Blackhawk helicopter, filled with armed and armored troopers. I struggled to find a place to put ‘15 comfortably and failed.

“Grenades?!” I shouted over the whine of the engine and rotor wash. It was still surprisingly low even here. Either they had tinkertech bullshit or the sound canceling that I’d read some military choppers had was that good.

The closest troopers shook off their incredulity and soon I was handed a small backpack that looked fit to burst with the cone shaped confoam grenades. The only way I could carry it was to use ‘15 and thread it through the shoulder straps, so the backpack slid down, over my hand and onto my arm.

“Thanks!”

I misted and reflexively turned right on the way towards Armsmaster, just as Miss Militia let off another series of bursts with her minigun to keep thinning the clone horde.

Armsmaster had taken to the defense on the right side of the locomotive. To my surprise he had forgone the use of his signature halberd entirely and had from somewhere produced two very futuristic looking machine pistols in both hands that he was firing with near perfect accuracy into the clones.

A single burst from one pistol, seemed capable of hitting the clone in the chest and head simultaneously. Each burst felled a single clone and he was firing his left and right pistols alternately. I restrained my curiosity at the off-brand weapon usage and reasoned it was probably something he only brought out in exactly this situation. There were a number of villains who had duplicator or clone powers.

I folded my legs to kneel behind him and demisted.

“Grenades!” I shouted as I pulled ‘15 free of the backpack and dumped it at his feet.

“Do you know how they work?!” he asked between the firing of his pistols.

“Pull the pin and throw?!” A bullet from the clone horde sparked off his legs and I tried to narrow my body profile more.

“Yes, 5 second delay, but just drop them in front of any door that leads off the train, the expansion is large enough to seal it off. Be careful.”

I nodded and fumbled with the backpack’s release. I really needed both hands free for this and I glared at ‘15 before putting it down… I’d have to be quick.

With two grenades in either hand, I misted and headed to the first train door in sight - the ones on either side of the locomotive, which the engineers would use to get on and off. Thankfully, I had the energy to burn for this and only materialized my hands whilst hovering right above.

I pulled the pin, thankful that I currently didn’t have a physical heart at the moment, and dropped the grenade.

A quick zoom to the left, pull pin and drop.

I misted completely and gained altitude to watch the result.

A thump and hissing heralded the grenades going off and billowing out the foam which rapidly expanded in the air. It ended up catching a number of D-class clones who were charging down the train or emerging from the locomotive, but it did the job and within seconds the foam hardened.

I zoomed back behind Armsmaster, reappeared, grabbed two grenades and vanished.

The next car was a coal bed, so I skipped past that to the passenger car behind that. Two grenades later and I had sealed the front, but there was another set of doors at the rear of that car.

I zoomed back, grabbed grenades, returned and… bombs away!

I gained a bit of altitude and watched as the foam hardened with multiple clones inside, wincing as the splitting cracks of Miss Militia’s stream of bullets passed nearby.

It was working, but I couldn’t stand looking at it for long. The sight of so many dead clones, blood and spilt guts was going to haunt me for a very long time and in that moment I was rather glad I didn’t sleep anymore.

So I continued, steadily sealing off the train’s exits.

The amount of time it took, I would later not be able to articulate. It became a blur of chaotic memory. I became utterly numb to the sights and sounds of it.

All I knew was that at last, I was busy sealing off the last train car and zooming back to the front of the train.

Miss Militia was also now there along with the eleven PRT troopers and the helicopter was circling steadily overhead, shining a spotlight around the area in a search pattern.

The troopers passed me and headed down the length of the train, gingerly stepping around the haphazardly strewn bodies and viscera.

Militia herself looked somewhat haunted around the eyes and I saw her emotional aura was in distinct turmoil as she stared at the killing field she had helped create.

“No clones are trying to exit via the windows of the passenger cars,” Armsmaster commented as he handed me ‘15. I inwardly groaned and closed my eyes, just about avoiding slapping my own forehead for not thinking about such an obvious issue. “Sergeant, report.”

“All hostiles inside passenger cars are not moving, sir.” The report came from a radio on Miss Militia’s belt.

I opened my true sight towards the train and gazed at the closest passenger car. “Something’s changing it’s - ”

“Sir, all hostiles have disappeared, I repeat, all hostiles are gone.”

“Escort?”

I squinted my eyes down the length of the train and blinked, rubbed my eyes and checked my memory just to make sure I was certain.

“Armsmaster, how many cars did this train originally have?” I asked, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach.

He didn’t answer for a moment, his helmet briefly flickering with light. “Nine.”

“I count ten at the moment.”

He exploded into action, his power armor’s normally silent servos and actuators whining as he sprinted past me and down the train. I winced as he even somehow managed to keep his footing despite the awful amounts of blood and guts he was wading through.

I let out a weary huffing breath and leaned on ‘15.

“If you are feeling tired, Escort, you’re free to leave. You’ve done a lot of good work tonight, get some rest, the Protectorate can take things from here,” Miss Militia had a pleasant voice, though it was understandably strained at the moment.

I fixed my gaze on her face, it was a welcome relief to avoid looking at the fucking SCP and its mess. “If only I could,” I gestured wearily to myself, “Noctis.”

Her green eyes widened, “Truly? That is unfortunate. How have you been coping?”

“Reading, schoolwork, research, exercise and the Internet, at the moment.” I definitely wasn’t going to mention that sex and my feeding habits also helped.

“Those are good uses of your time,” my fellow Noctis cape nodded. “However, what have you found to destress or relax?”

“Reading fiction and video sharing sites.”

Her minigun and backpack of ammo vanished into a blur of black-green energy before turning into a holstered hand cannon pistol on her shapely hip. “I suggest you look up some meditation techniques, find something that works for you.”

“I didn’t think that could work for Noctis capes either,” I shrugged.

“I’ve found some benefit from some of them over the years, give it a try.”

The sound of heavy caliber rifle fire and Armsmaster’s pistols echoed up towards us.

“Great.”

8888888888888888888888888888888

My resolve to remain on site with the SCP train withered over the next hour as more and more troopers and heroes arrived. Especially as Armsmaster indicated that the entire situation had provisional A-class status, which allowed for resources and personnel to be called in from all over the country. Even Dragon, the premiere heroic Tinker known throughout the world, who primarily resided in Canada, was piloting one of her draconic remote suits down towards Brockton and she was already in consultation virtually with the PRT and Protectorate.

When the train had manifested its eleventh car to keep bringing forth its nightmarish creations, the situation had finally reached that level. Self-replicating anything was extremely bad news in the PRT books. They had also confirmed that Panacea was well able to reverse the mutations induced by the radiation field as well, though she had determined a time limit of one and a half hours for anyone to remain in it. That was the point of ‘no return’ - where the damage done would begin affecting the brain.

Panacea’s power had a limit of not being able to work on human brains, which sounded rather odd to me. Parahumans sometimes had what was known as a ‘Manton limit’ - which was generally thought to be an expression of ‘self-protection’ naturally built into a parahuman’s power - preventing them from accidentally using their power on themselves in a manner which would cause harm. For example, Vista couldn’t expand the space inside her own stomach to eat more food or expand the space that people occupied in a way that would harm them. Panacea couldn’t use her own power to heal herself. Every parahuman had a certain expression of the ‘Manton limit’.

It was all very arbitrary between each cape. Something to bring up with Henry to see if he had any ideas.

“What about the plants, animals and insect life?”

Armsmaster was busy making the external wall a slightly more secure fixture in front of the train, working in concert with a number of troopers to bolt it in place, so that it would require actual machinery to dislodge and couldn’t be carried off by the train’s clones.

“We have teams around the perimeter, Escort, they’re busy creating a firebreak zone by uprooting trees and we’re also erecting quick fencing. Modular walls will be coming soon as well. Insect life will be handled by Dragon, she’s bringing in the same devices we use around Ellisburg to prevent Nillbog from using them as a vector to spread his altered organisms. The PRT is well versed in quickly quarantining things.”

He put down his tool and stepped up to me. “You did well, Escort. Without your on point advice and help, I see how this could’ve easily become something we’d lose the entire city to. Your commitment is to be applauded but…”

“Now go home? I’m distracting the work?” I groused.

“We have things in hand. Thinkers and resources from across the country are now pointed at this thing. We are procuring enough lead shielding to cover this train twice over and Dragon has already designed the structure. If you are worried about recognition, rest assured- ”

“I don’t care about that,” I waved him off. Getting my nude ass all over national news was not on my list of things to do.

“This is a provisional A-class scenario, which will in high likelihood be confirmed. At the very least, your name will feature heavily along with mine and Miss Militia as the reason Brockton Bay is not becoming the next Ellisburg. As you are an Independent and a native of this city, expect at least that the Mayor’s office will be getting in touch, if not the State Governor.”

Oh, that somehow felt even worse. I knew there were some civilian awards that the governments at various levels could give out, but no specifics.

I sighed and looked up into the night sky. There was no way I could explain how… personally responsible I felt. How every Void Event which brought SCPs were centered around me. Nor could I open the very big Pandora’s Box about SCPs themselves to the Protectorate. I just had to accept that the scale and danger of this one made it something that couldn’t be solved just by little ol’ me, dad and Henry.

“Okay, I’ll get going. Thanks for listening.”

“You were telling the truth,” he said with certainty. “I’d normally say ‘Sleep well’, but in this case, rest well, Escort. You earned it.”

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♦ Topic: The Tinker Train from Hell

In: Boards ► East Coast ► MA ► Brockton Bay

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Feb 21st 2011:

Getting reports of a steam train, yes, STEAM TRAIN, that is somehow tearing through the city. This is an ongoing incident as I type this!

EDIT: Protectorate response is already there, somehow.

EDIT2: Confirmed, its Armsmaster and Escort.

EDIT3: No further news, situation is described as 'dynamic'.

EDIT4: The entire PRT ENE has been mobilized. Situation has been escalated to possible A-Class. All BB residents advised to prepare for evacuation to shelters. Perimeter is being established around the Tinker Train, which has been immobilized for the moment.

EDIT5: A-Class situation confirmed. National assets are mobilizing. Dragon is flying a Suit into the city. PRT teams are preparing a localized quarantine of affected area of the city. BB airspace is being closed to all traffic. No word yet on possible suspect Tinker who created the thing. So far, three deaths and twelve injuries from traffic collisions during its initial rampage.

EDIT6: Reason for quarantine is being stated as 'high levels of ambient radioactivity from the technology'.

(Showing page 23 of 26)

►Robby

Replied On Feb 21st 2011:

Well, who else could it be then?! Squealer is the one with the vehicle tinker rating! What's to say she didn't produce this monstrosity while high on whatever drug the Merchants are peddling these days?

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 21st 2011:

While yes, we can't rule that out, but making it radioactive is not exactly conducive to her own health! Crazy doesn't equal suddenly going on a suicidal rampage, unless she's snapped from bad news or she's dying from something incurable.

►Xyloloup

Replied On Feb 21st 2011:

Okay, you've made your case. Let's look at the other Tinkers in the Bay then, that we know of. L33t? Doubt it, he'd be streaming the entire thing. Kid Win? Unless he's been moonlighting in the abandoned Trainyards and the PRT dropped the ball massively keeping an eye on its Wards, no way. It's also not exactly in his Tinker specialty AFAIK. This screams to me someone new, a Tinker who wanted to burst onto the scene in a big way, and he or she's either villainous or the creation went out of control.

►L33t (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I've negotiated with the mods to get on here in the interest of everyone who calls this city home and most definitely clear any doubt.

The PRT was pretty good about scrubbing and containing things, but I managed to beat them. [LINK] Here's a traffic cam picture of the train in question. No way I build something that ugly and dilapidated. There are many train simulator games out there - but gosh are they boring. This is certainly one way to make them more exciting, but I act out games that exist and none of the train simulators have a train acting like this!

►Mac's Dual Rocket Propelled Grenades 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Wow, that's a thing. Is PHO going to let villains actually communicate to the public? How can such a thing ever go wrong?

►L33t  (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Every word I type is being moderated, hence the tag. Care to take a bet on how many villain sockpuppet accounts there are on PHO?

►TinMother (Moderator)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I can confirm that L33t is indeed being allowed this privilege and he has not hacked PHO.

►Reave  (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

As this is an A-Class event, villains can be consulted in dealing with the threat. L33t as a local Tinker has been cleared of any potential responsibility for the train and is being approached by the PRT and Protectorate for help in the matter.

►L33t (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

What he said.

Took their sweet time about it. This thing is no joke and fully deserves that rating. That's all I'll say.

►Morgan Sinister 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@L33t, Any details please?

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►L33t  (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

No.

Stay away from the quarantine zone.

►Panacea (Verified Cape)  (New Wave)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Can't believe I'm agreeing with L33t like this...

STAY AWAY!

►Procto the Unfortunate Tinker (Not a tinker)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

And that folks, should terrify you. Excrement has definitely hit the rotary impeller unit.

►Spiritskin  (Skyclad)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I hope Armsmaster and Escort @ReaderMonster are okay. If they were the first responders to a radioactive train and it's not like she wears armor.

►GstringGirl

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Well, she's lucky she lives in the same city as Panacea.

►Thatdude 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

It'd really depend on how long she was exposed and what level of exposure the train was giving off. There's also different types of radiation, which also makes a huge difference.

►Poit 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

What possible difference could she make anyway? Is she gonna break her hands on the train?

►WhedonRipperFan

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Dude. Teleporter. Grab bag. There could've been tons of ways she helped. Getting people out of the way in an instant. Helping to evacuate the area... just looking at the map, it looks like a fair few homes fell into the quarantine zone. When it comes to radiation, every second counts.

►Nod

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

There's a question, can she even teleport other people?

►TinMother  (Moderator)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Speculation on Escort @ReaderMonster 's power/s goes to her cape thread or similar speculative threads, not here.

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►Sothoth (Banned)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

[USER Banned for violating TOS]

Such language is not part of a civil discussion on these boards - enjoy a year off. - TinMother.

►AverageAlexandros (Cape Husband)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

What a time to enter the discussion. Anyone know if this 'national response' will also include West Coast capes?

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

As part of the official response from PRT ENE. I've been authorized to speak for the local branch. Thus far the radiation and the train has been successfully contained, its doubtful we'll have to call on capes from so far a field. Its more likely that a national level Tinker response will be needed, in keeping the train contained and possibly moving it under controlled conditions out of the city.

►AverageAlexandros (Cape Husband)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@Reave

Whew, thank you for the prompt reply.

►Laser Augment (Banned)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@Poit

You dare impugn on the perfection of Escort!

►Poit

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Uh, what?

►Laser Augment (Banned)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

[USER banned for violating TOS]

Wow, a bit too lurid and NSFW in your praise for Escort there. Take a cold shower please and see you in a week. - TinMother.

►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

PRT ENE would advise Brockton Bay residents to remain beyond the two mile outer perimeter of the quarantine zone. Things are difficult enough without sending BBPD and PRT personnel off on foot and car chases.

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

People are gonna be people. C'mon folks, busted up train like that ain't worth losing years off your life and risking higher chance of cancer. That's exactly what the bastard who built that thing wants.

►ReaderMonster (Verified Cape)  (Brocktonite)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@Spiritskin

Thank you for your concern. My radiation exposure has been taken care of and I am in good health.

I can reveal that I was busy dealing with a group of E88 gangers who had resolved to commit a bit of arson, among them was Alabaster. After dealing with them all, I called in the Protectorate and it was Armsmaster who responded. It was at this point that we first witnessed the train teleporting in and beginning its rampage.

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►WhedonRipperFan

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

You solo'd an Empire wrecking crew and Alabaster?! Damn.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Was part of that callout. Alabaster is sitting nice and comfy in our cells. That was good work, @ReaderMonster.

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I doubt he's gonna be sitting there long. This is his third stint in PRT ENE custody. He's always broken out in transport to out of state prison by those E88 assholes.

►ReaderMonster (Verified Cape)  (Brocktonite)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I sincerely hope that doesn't happen again.

Back to the train, please. I'd also like to sincerely thank Miss Militia and PRT ENE Squad Charlie who was also instrumental in stopping it. I played a bit part at best.

►Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@ReaderMonster Is there anything more you can share? Any juicy details? Please!

►ReaderMonster (Verified Cape)  (Brocktonite)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Whilst I am not beholden to the PRT gag orders, rules and classification. I have to be able to work with them. Something that will be much more difficult in the future if I break trust.

Trust that I live in BB, this is my home. I don't want to see it quarantined or harmed even more. The full truth in this case, will not help anything or anyone at this stage.

The train is secured and many people are working to keep it contained. It is still active and any mistake at this point could cause more disaster. Let the PRT and Protectorate do their jobs, Brocktonians.

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A/N: No new SCPs in this chapter.

The Force Wills - Chapter 43

“Do you see it?”

I took a deep breath, even though I was pretty sure I wasn’t breathing air at the moment and nodded at my interlocutor.

“Yes, but actually doing it without relying on you as a crutch for the process is not going to be the work of a few hours of meditation,” I said to the image of Tarre Vizsla.

“Yes and no,” the kyber sentience of the Darksaber said sternly at me, his eyes narrowing between the vision slit of his ancient Mandalorian helmet. “You’ve seen the process, you’ve felt it, you even could do it right now. Put out of your mind the notion that you can’t unless you’ve bashed your skull against it for ten thousand hours. It certainly applies to mastery and how efficiently you achieve the result, but in this there is a point where it’s good enough for your purposes and with the time constraints we have.”

I stared into the infinite black and white landscape and dimension of the Darksaber, casting off my thoughts and doubts. You’d think that after achieving this for other skills, I would have no problems with Tutaminis. As many advantages and experiences I had from my previous life, they could also just as quickly become disadvantages. Just because Satele Shan had no-selled a lightsaber blade with her bare hands, didn’t necessarily mean I’d need to wait until I was at her level of experience or age before I could pull off the same thing. Shaking that notion off me at a subconscious level was proving extremely frustrating.

“Look, again,” Tarre snapped in command.

He turned, his robes whirling as he brandished the Darksaber. Immediately appearing opposite him in an instant was Darth Malgus.

The Sith Lord of old stood a domineering 2.1 meters in height with dual ruby red lightsaber blades already lit and in a Jar’kai stance. He was wearing his respirator and numerous bits of cybernetics were visible, added due to his many injuries over the years. His ribbed intimidating black armor in the low natural lighting of this dimension made for a very frightening sight. It was something slightly worse than a future Darth Vader, because with Malgus, he actually displayed to the world his injured bald head and Dark Side corruption with no hesitation.

Tarre had been steadily throwing all the various Darths I knew at me in this dimension and it was not a pleasant or fun experience. The sense of cloying corruption of these various Sith Lords was not at all apparent to you through a mere monitor. Just being in the undiluted presence of them was something that tore at your mind and soul. Tarre Vizsla had fought near the end of the previous era, he had experienced the apex of corruption that the Sith had sunk to and it was ghastly.

Malgus instantly threw out Force Lightning from both his hands.

The strength of it was such that it made what Ventress threw at me look like a bit of static electricity.

Yet Tarre calmly faced the incoming storm and gave a sweeping slice of the Darksaber that pulled all the lightning in, then threw it off to the side, where it spent itself on the nothingness of the Darksaber dimension’s infinite black floor.

To think that there had been Sith Sorcerers in the past that made Malgus’ lightning look ordinary. It really drew home the point that there had been an interregnum. That both sides had suffered in the skill, knowledge and usage of the Force. From that point of view, the past thousand years had really done no favors to either Jedi or Sith.

“See?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

Then Malgus raised his hands and lightning shot towards me.

I was seated in meditation posture, no lightsaber on hand, no warning.

The surprise was complete and utter.

Death and pain was streaming towards me.

No wimping out Ahsoka! I screamed to myself

Do or do not.

I raised my hands in the brief moment afforded to me to react and pulled.

The lightning slammed into me and for an instant that bordered on eternity, it was like I had been hit by a truck. Every muscle in my body began to twitch as the energy began to overload me…

Pull you bastard!

I am not just a collection of crude matter, a biological machine obeying set laws that even the best scientists could only scratch the true surface of.

The lightning writhed and danced all over my body, the pain vanished, my control returned.

That was all fine and dandy, but now the energy began to pool within, building and building nightmarishly quickly.

What to do with it? How?

Fear began to raise its ugly head. If I didn’t find a way quickly I’d…

Just as quickly everything stopped. Malgus vanished, the Force lightning and its energies were no more. No longer was I threatening to explode and die in a conflagration of out of control energies.

I glared at Tarre. “You’re a real bastard,” I groused.

A smile threatened to crack his usual stern visage. “When I was alive, I didn’t have the time for a padawan, but I had instructed many younglings and initiates. They espoused similar views about my teaching methods. I am a being of kyber, channeling the energies of the Force comes as natural to me as breathing does to you. Darth Nox could be here, throwing the best and largest Force Storm she could and it’d be no different to me. Again, you’re internalizing judgements about power and what you should and should not be able to handle.

“Kyber is a crystal, and by its nature in the natural universe, very fragile. Yet extremely strong when used to the correct purpose and conditions. In comparison a human or in your case, togruta, is a carbon based fleshy being, very strong in certain respects but weak in others. You must learn to bridge this gap. You must eventually learn to channel the Force as kyber does, strengthening your spirit while also insulating the weaknesses of your flesh to the various energies you’re juggling.”

I fought very hard against myself at this point, biting back the first thing I wanted to scream out. “I will,” I declared with as much conviction as I could muster.

“Good, I think we should end it here for today, it’s about time for your meeting.”

A brief look at my metaphysical anchor indicated that he was correct. “See you tomorrow then.”

“What nonsense,” he scoffed. “You must stop thinking about here and out there. This ‘place’ is not going anywhere when you ‘leave’, Ahsoka.”

“It was just a figure of speech, Tarre,” I sighed wearily.

I blinked and the world was replaced by the interior of Anakin’s quarters in the Jedi Temple. A beeping from my chrono indicated it was nine in the morning at my current position on Coruscant.

“Six hours,” I muttered. A decent amount of training under meditative conditions. I just wish there was a hard and fast rule to how time passed in that ‘dimension’. It felt sometimes as if it was days and other times barely an hour would pass to my perception but eight hours would pass in real time.

I did a quick stretch routine before rushing to dress in my Hapan outfit. A quick check of the mirror revealed the need for a bit of moisturizing of my left lekku, but I did all of them anyway.

That done, I emerged into the living halls of the Jedi Temple and power walked with speed in a way that was probably not at all proper in the stately and serene atmosphere of the giant temple. The frowning, disapproving looks of a number of knights and masters followed me all the way to the central command and communication center.

“Ah good morning, little Soka.”

I smiled warmly and bowed to Plo Koon, “And to you, Master.”

“I trust you are ready?” The Kel Dor Master asked perfunctorily, his cheeks twitching behind his breather mask in amusement.

“Of course,” I said, pulling out a data chit from my belt and slotting it into a port on the giant central holotank.

“Excellent, let’s get this over with then. You still owe me a long conversation of your doings of late.”

He stepped forward and after a few button presses the two holoforms of Master Adi Gallia and Master Ki Adi Mundi appeared around the tank.

Both masters bowed in greeting to their fellow.

“Master Koon,” said Mundi neutrally, merely giving me a glance of acknowledgement. “This was to have been a discussion of fleet and asset deployment in the north. Was there any change in agenda?”

“No, Master Mundi, I just believe and it has been agreed at a higher level, that Ahsoka would benefit by observing and occasionally participating in select strategic discussions.”

“I see,” Mundi folded his hands formally in front of him and why could I imagine flames billowing out of his ‘ears’?

“Interesting,” Gallia smiled crookedly at me and winked. “It’d certainly liven things up in some of the meetings then.”

“Yes quite,” Master Koon coughed delicately though I was utterly sure he was just doing it to hide his own amusement at Mundi’s reaction. “Between us three, we are responsible for the north and north eastern galactic fronts of the war. We are caught in a duality of static laned warfare and maneuver warfare. If this status quo continues we are essentially caught in a constant back and forth, with nothing in near to mid term that will change it. We achieve victory in the north, we push forward, our logistics are stretched ever further while the CIS logistics is shortened and simplified. Eventually, they push back and we have no choice but to retreat.

“In the north-east, our gains are even more nebulous. We destroy a ship here, there, we take a loss here and there. We take a system, but can’t afford to hold it because we can’t guarantee security when there are three or more hyper points to defend.”

“The forward supply bases can only be built at their current rate,” Mundi pointed out. “Which for my liking is too quickly, the amount of safety regulations being discarded in favor of speed will lead to disaster eventually.”

“We’re fighting a war, Master Mundi,” Gallia gave him a pointed stare. “If our base construction doesn’t go faster this back and forth attrition will eventually break the GAR’s back.”

“When a base with shoddy construction standards blows up and destroys a link in the supply chain at a critical time-”

“Masters,” Master Koon interrupted what I could sense was an old argument. “We are not here for another debate. We are here to find solutions. Something that our resident padawan might set us on the road towards.”

Mundi huffed in obvious disbelief and Gallia smirked.

Koon gestured for me to go ahead. A few taps on the terminal brought up my first holo.

“A dreadnought?” Mundi questioned, shaking his head. “That-”

“The floor currently belongs to Padawan Tano, Master Mundi,” Koon grumbled.

“What you are currently looking at is the Mandator-II class of star dreadnought,” I continued, careful to remain serenely neutral in body and emotion. “It’s generally the same hull as the Mandator to ease construction, though slightly bigger by five hundred or so meters. It has the upgrades and improvements done to make the old Mandator a viable combatant in the current war built in from the ground up. This has resulted in a speed improvement to a Class 2 Hyperdrive, meaning that it can now form a meaningful part of singular fleet formation that can cruise through the galaxy in a reasonable timeframe. The first unit will finish construction at KDY in eight months, with a further six months of minimum space trials before it can be commissioned.”

“Such a vessel at the front lines, while very welcome, is going to make our supply situation even worse, padawan,” Master Gallia said reasonably.

“It would, if you thought of the Mandator-II as just a better dreadnought,” I tapped the terminal and highlighted a few areas on the ship modified to my own design. “This ship, with a few compromises made in weaponry and consumable stowage could also function as a hybrid factory ship. It’ll sit out in Oort clouds or around gas giants, send out dedicated mining and harvesting ships, which will return where the ship will refine and build using those resources.”

Yes, I had just essentially built a mothership from the Homeworld universe with Coruscan tech, except one with very sharp teeth of its own and could move relatively fast.

Masters Gallia and Koon looked like their brains had exploded from a moment of revelation. Master Mundi just glared at the holo and looked like he needed to break wind.

“This… this could work, padawan? You’ve tested the feasibility?” Gallia composed herself quickly but her excitement was palpable.

“I did the math, yes,” I nodded and boy, did my brain hurt from all the numbers involved. “The power requirements, space, crew, onboard factory workers, internal and external supply. It’s even technically cheaper in real credit cost. The Mandator-II can do it, it’ll make the big gun crowd unhappy because it has to sacrifice about thirty percent of its guns, but it’s well worth it. This is a ship that can theoretically last for generations, do its own maintenance, build its own ships that operate off it. It’s a literal mobile supply line that we can put wherever we need it.”

“Most intriguing,” Master Koon folded his arms. “It’s an amazing idea, Padawan Tano. Do you think KDY could make it happen?”

“There’s no technological challenges that I can see if this change is made beyond the small details. I doubt I’m going to make friends among the shipwrights, but the necessity is clear, Masters.”

Master Koon stared at the holo of the gigantic ship thoughtfully. “This will require careful thought and consideration, even if it's agreed among the Council, it’ll be up to the Chancellor’s office for the final political decision.”

I nodded in agreement. A mothership would be just the ticket to potentially insure the survival and continuity of civilization from any number of galactic wide disasters. In the long term, I wanted to see the days of planetbound civilization end and for the galaxy to move to a hybrid model of sorts, with Halos, Orbitals, hyper-capable O’Neill Cylinders, motherships the size of moons with their own artificial ecologies.

“The other topic I wanted to discuss with you today was the recent success in the use of the Electro-Proton weapon,” Koon continued. “As Padawan Tano was there and involved in the planning for its use by the 501st, I’d thought she would have some valuable insight on the future deployment of the weapon.”

“Isn’t it supposedly the answer to all our prayers?” Gallia asked sarcastically with a crooked smile.

“Things are never that simple, Master Gallia,” Mundi declared. “Just a cursory read of the reports highlights a number of problems.”

“Master Mundi is correct,” I said in agreement. “The EP Bomb is a tactical scale battlefield weapon used on a planetary surface. It needs aerospace superiority over the battlefield before it can be hooked onto a Y-Wing. It cannot be used on an occupied city with civilians, as its initial blast to generate the greater EM effect is substantial. Even if there were no civilians, you’d be looking at the loss of twelve percent of an average city’s physical infrastructure and close to eighty percent of its civilian data and power infrastructure. It’d essentially make it uninhabitable for modern civilization without extensive time consuming repair and replacement of that hardware.”

“Problematic in the extreme,” Koon mused. “So only usable in outlying open field warfare. Something the CIS is already beginning to show an aversion for.”

“This weapon will only encourage them to disperse forces even more, meaning we would need to drop dozens of EP bombs in saturation strikes to guarantee that droid forces are wiped out,” I explained. “This brings us to the next problem, currently to produce the EP bomb requires specialized laboratory conditions and equipment. The techniques and practicalities for the large scale production required for extensive use still needs to be researched, engineered, built and implemented. Until such a time, the cost per unit of this weapon is going to be enormous.”

“How many can be built at the moment?” Master Gallia asked.

“The best estimate Doctor Boll could give me was three devices per month for the foreseeable future, perhaps five as they refine their methods further.”

Master Mundi shook his head, “It’s ridiculous, all that effort and resources and we’re left with an albino terentatek.”

“The best use case I’ve brainstormed for the EP bomb is in special operations, it represents the best cost to benefit. If it can be smuggled into a primary droid factory, complex or command facility it has the potential of sowing extreme chaos behind enemy lines.”

“An idea that warrants further study, Padawan Tano,” Master Koon nodded, scratching his leathery chin.

“There’s another idea that I also brainstormed in this line of thinking, that is worth mentioning, Masters. I’ve already done some of the preliminary groundwork of this and it will take minimum relative effort.”

Master Koon looked at Gallia and Mundi for a moment.

“Might as well, padawan, go ahead,” Gallia gestured to the holo.

The holo changed to show a large, flat profiled armored speeder that had rather aesthetic curved lines, with a very shiny chrome-like hull, with sections of green painted over it. Sticking up and mounted on its aft was a large articulated box with twenty openings.

“This is the Naboo Mobile Missile Launcher, something that the RNSF has just recently fielded a production variant of. It’s designed as an anti-air platform that will swat anything from the skies and only needs a single pilot. My idea is to tweak the onboard software and for it to fire a new missile type at droid ground targets.” I tapped the terminal and the missile in question appeared in the holotank. “This missile is not so much a single target weapon as it’s designed to distribute submunitions of dozens of droid poppers onto an area.”

“Impressive padawan,” Gallia smiled. “You could make it rain droid poppers over a very large area. Creating a similar effect as the EP bomb but with much less damage.”

“It won’t be as thorough, but it’ll definitely make a mess out of any CIS army occupying a city in the open. It also fills in a gap in the GAR artillery platforms. The AV-7, SP-HAAT and even AT-TE are all anti-vehicle or starship weapons. To target small droid units we’ve had to use splash damage on congerated unit formations, often creating damage to roads and areas that we have to fight and drive over. The Naboo MML will handily fill in this gap. It’ll also help in a dedicated air-defense against Vulture and Hyena droids, which the SP-HAAT is not nimble enough to reliably engage.”

“I want them,” Gallia declared immediately with an almost evil smile on her face.

“Now, now, Master Gallia,” Koon chuckled. “Are we sure the Naboo will even let us have them?”

“Senator Amidala was amenable when I spoke to her,” I grinned briefly. “While they are willing to donate a squadron or two to the GAR, the majority of their production is intended for the defense of their homeworld. Rothana Heavy Engineering should be able to get reasonable terms in the license agreement, the Naboo are not greedy people.”

“Well, this has been a very productive meeting… Ahsoka, what’s wrong?”

The Force flexed around me and shifted. I felt like I had the metaphysical equivalent of a searchlight focused on me while my eyes were opened. “Apologies Masters, I need to step out for a bit.”

I practically fell into a meditative position and plunged into the Force so quickly that it was like I had taken a cliff dive.

That dive took me right along my bond with Anakin.

“Master, ease up on the pressure!”

His thoughts blasted me. “Oh, sorry, Snips, I guess distance truly doesn’t matter.”

“Skyguy, after all the times I said it, only now it gets through your thick skull? You might as well have Force Pushed me from across the galaxy.”

“Yes, you can berate me later. Need a bit of help here. Come through.”

Thankfully he wasn’t asking me to Force Project, which was something I gladly left to future me to figure out. My Farsight would have to do in this case…

… all around me was wreckage, destroyed and bent bulkheads of what was clearly the starboard bridge of a Venator. Beyond the gaps in the walls and forward transparisteel was an eerie sky that looked rather familiar. My perspective was hovering over a large collapse of what should’ve been a ceiling panel and durasteel girders, and all around was scorching indicative of an explosion.

Poking out from underneath this mess were the shoulders and heads of Anakin and Windu, clearly trapped and unable to free themselves.

“Dare I even ask, Master? This is the Endurance?”

“Yes, it was sabotaged, during the training cruise, by one of the clone cadets, but who was actually Boba Fett, the adopted clone son of Jango Fett, the original clone template. Boba was actually after Master Windu…” A spike of pain lanced through Anakin, disrupting his focus. “Thanks for the warning by the way. Saved Windu’s life from an earlier bomb.”

“I wish I could’ve done and said more, Master.”

“Stop that, we both know the drill on this Foresight ability. Now do hurry to our rescue. Boba is not alone and has a bounty hunter group helping him, one of whom is a former Jedi that Master Windu is pretty sure is Aurra Sing. R2 did a good job faking our escape and Master Windu has clouded our presence from Sing sensing us. We’re also sure she took Admiral Kilian and two other high ranking clones as hostages.”

“And this planet is?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, Vanqor.”

“Master, even in an Acclamator, Vanqor is three days away at top speed. Can you hold out that long?”

“We will.”

“Very well, I’m coming as soon as I can. Don’t die, Skyguy.”

“Not planning on it, Snips.”

I broke contact and reversed course instantly, opening my eyes to regard Master Koon looking down on me with visible worry, and he had his hand on my brow. “Ahsoka? You were in contact with your Master?”

“Yes, I’m back. There’s a serious problem.”

I jumped to my feet and hurried to the holotank terminal, interfacing with the emergency distress network. It was the work of a few keystrokes to focus it towards Vanqor. Sure enough, the Endurance’s destruction beacon was blinking in orbit of the planet. Next a query to the military network brought up a report from a medical frigate that had responded to the beacon already, including the tidbit that Master Windu and Anakin was investigating the wreckage for possible survivors of the Endurance - that it had crash landed under a degree of control by Admiral Killian and a skeleton staff of naval clones. As I was doing this I also rehashed what Anakin had communicated to the masters present.

“We can do more research on the way, Ahsoka, we will leave immediately. Thank you, masters, this meeting is adjourned,” Master Koon declared, before he made a small gesture of his hand.

“Now wait just a moment-” Master Mundi objected before his holoform vanished along with Gallia’s.

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion at Master Koon. “Was it my imagination or did I sense a bit of satisfaction from you, interrupting the comlink, master?”

“Why padawan, I would never stoop to such antics. Time is after all, of the essence.”

888888888888888888888888

Seeing how quickly things could get done when a Jedi High Council member was figuratively cracking the whip and when the person holding it was Plo Koon, was a sight to behold. By the time we had reached the hangars and gotten onto a shuttle bound for the shipyards, we already had a ship, an Acclimator with a rather fitting name, Defiance.

It was in dock doing a routine resupply before returning to the northern battlespaces. Master Koon’s commandeering of the ship resulted in that being put on hold. The ship wouldn’t lose out on critical supply items, such as ammo, fuel and so on, it was only the ancillary supplies that the crew would have a bit of shortage of and rationing would have to be implemented for those.

It still took a rather agonizing two hours before everything was buttoned up and ship shape for departure. Our military authorization and Master Koon’s authority managed to bump us to the head of the queue for using the northeastern Anaxes outbound hyperlane to eventually intercept the northward stretch of the Hydian Way. Even that took still another twenty minutes until the Defiance streaked into hyperspace and accelerated to its max sustainable hyper velocity.

The naval clone commander of the Defiance, Captain Drea, naturally didn’t object to his command being taken on an emergency mission, but I could tell he was irked that he didn’t finish the ship’s resupply. Just like Velos, he also had a streak of what I could almost call outright OCD. It was a trait for detail that was probably encouraged and trained among the naval clones, which had the potential to further bloom into minor obsession.

Master Koon and I had taken our seats in the rear of the bridge, close to the tactical command holotank, where I used the opportunity to do a bit of research on Aurra Sing, now that I had the excuse.

The palliduvan had been born into poverty and given to the Jedi Order by a mother who couldn’t afford to feed her own child. Nothing was known about her father. Sing was quite gifted in the Force but not a standout student and just faded into the background of one among many initiates and adepts. Her academic transcripts showed someone who just did enough and no more. She built her own lightsaber, even attained padawan rank, but in a complete surprise move by everyone who knew her among the adepts, she simply left the Order. Leaving only a resignation letter addressed to the High Council, just so it wouldn’t be assumed she needed to be searched for.

Then for five years she vanished into the great big galaxy. The only hint as to what she did in that time became apparent when she registered openly with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild at the tender age of nineteen. She quickly developed a fearsome reputation in her own right within just two years, with dozens of successful bounties to her name. The information the Guild had on her was naturally sparse, but her skill with a sniper rifle and as a general assassin quickly spread among their grapevine.

Her usage of the Force was never overtly present in any of the reports that I could call up, which neatly explained why the Order was never called in to apprehend her in any capacity. She kept her nose clean in the core worlds and her wetwork was always in the practically lawless Outer Rim. As far as I could tell, she didn’t even carry her own lightsaber anymore. She only used blasters and knives in her work.

The next time she popped up on the info grids was on Nar Shaddaa, just prior to the Trade Federation invasion of Naboo. A twi’lek Jedi padawan had been kidnapped by the Xresus Cartel and Sing was observed attending the auction, along with Cad Bane and a crew of other bounty hunters.

The Jedi team sent to pursue and rescue the padawan only caught up to her on the moon of Drazkel close to Hutt space, where they found her body and her broken lightsaber.

The lead Jedi master could only conclude that padawan Eldra Kaitis had been in a heavy fight with another lightsaber wielding opponent, there had been extensive usage of the Force and TK, and she had lost that fight. The only probable suspect being Aurra Sing, even if it didn’t fit the bounty hunter’s MO anymore, it was the best theory available to the Jedi at the time.

She disappeared into the Outer Rim again, continuing the bounty hunter life with Bane’s crew probably, but her efforts to remain off the radar in the core worlds hit a snag. She was suspected in the disappearance of a podracer, after being hired by Coruscant based podracer manufacturer Farwan & Glott. The CSF inspector was forced to declare the case cold as his only evidence was a circumstantial hologram that was missing its authentication codes.

“Interesting reading, little ‘Soka?”

“Somewhat, Master, though it does beg the question, how often do padawans just leave like Aurra Sing did? Certainly none did amongst my own peers, even those who went into the service corps.”

Koon folded his arms and stared at the latest holoprofile for the palliduvan. “It is something rare, padawan. Sing’s case was before my time on the Council, so I can’t share any personal insight on the matter. It’s clear though that she is by now a highly dangerous and effective bounty hunter that we would do well not to underestimate. The fact that she is partially responsible for putting a Jedi of Master Windu’s power in such a helpless position speaks for itself. Now that we are underway, it is pointless to get underfoot in the running of the ship. Let’s find a space where we can meditate and train.”

“Yes, master.”

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Two days and twenty-two hours later the Defiance roared out of hyper beyond the mass shadow of Vanqor.

A squad of Recon clones from the 104th Battalion joined us in three LAAT gunships and we launched the instant scans of the system indicated that it was all clear of any CIS presence or signal that could be overtly detected.

“General Koon, a hyperspace ring just popped up on scanners, it was in EMCON mode, we also have the crash site locked in and should be overhead in nine minutes,” reported the gunship pilot.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Make your best speed,” he ordered.

I threaded my lekku and montrals into my helmet and secured it into its locked position. The internal Aegis systems booted up fully and I tried to get it to sync with Anakin’s armor. Only for the system to return an error message in my HUD. He had indicated his armor had been damaged and it seemed its communications had been affected as well. The onboard system was usually good enough for over 300km line of sight range by themselves, and generally piggy-backed off Republic ships to extend that range even further.

“Snips? Ah, at last. Not to hurry you, but the bridge superstructure is really on its last legs.” Anakin’s thoughts were steady but there was an undercurrent of alarm.

“R2’s patch jobs not holding up?”

“He’s done his best, but he’s not a construction droid. If it wasn’t for him, we’d both be dead already from smoke inhalation or conduit explosions.”

“We’re close, Skyguy. Hang on.”

The gunships finished their entry translations into the atmosphere and at five thousand meters opened the side doors to give an impressive view of the landscape. Unlike the last time we had been here when chasing Count Dooku, this part of the planet was more flat rocky plains than the mountainous caves. It made sense that Admiral Killian had aimed his doomed ship for this part of the planet.

The gunships made a smooth turn and soon we could see the crashed Venator rapidly approaching in the distance.

The ship’s back had clearly been broken as the aft section was sticking up into the air at a roughly 45 degree angle, whilst the front was flat on the earth. It had dug an impressive trench that would probably become a permanent scar on the landscape that nature would take a few thousand years to smooth over with natural erosion. The major problem was that even after all these days since the crash, there were still fires burning all over the superstructure, from either ammunition or fuel feed lines.

“I sense them. Lieutenant, approach the starboard bridge, hover in place,” ordered Master Koon.

It was rather agonizing to just stand and watch as the gunship swooped around the main superstructure and began a slow hovering approach to the utterly wrecked bridge section. It was bent and the supports that connected it to the ‘tower’ below it was warped and breaking before our eyes.

“Ahsoka, we must both hold it steady,” Koon said and raised both hands towards the bridge.

The Force began flowing in a torrent under the direction of the Jedi Master.

I took a deep breath and raised my hands as well to join him in directing the feat of telekinesis we were about to perform.

Our combined will wrenched on the metaphysical plane of the Force, translating into the real.

I abandoned all notion of conventional physics from my being.

The weight of that much durasteel and assorted debris began shifting and instead of falling, it was now arrested and supported by the combined strength of Koon and myself.

“Cables!” he ordered.

Four troopers shot high strength lines from the ascension attachments of their rifles, which punctured into the floor of the bridge. The lines were then quickly connected onto the gunship’s tow points.

“You’re clear, sergeant, we’re holding steady.”

Two clones made rather impressive jumps over the gap and hurried towards the two trapped Jedi. I did my best to push away some debris as well for them with precise TK and lightened the load of some of the bigger pieces, so the clones could work easier.

Finally, both Anakin and Windu were free, and the clones helped them to their feet.

Both men’s physical condition was not the best. R2 had at least been able to feed them water, but had been unable to salvage either food rations or get them from either Jedi’s D7 Aethersprite fighters - which had been destroyed and used as a diversion.

The metaphysical effort really began to hit now.

“Hurry, sergeant!” ordered Koon urgently.

The entire bridge module began cracking and I could distinctly hear that our TK was actually hurrying the overall collapse, despite the temporary stability it was providing.

“We’re losing it, sir!”

The gunship pilot had no choice but to lower altitude a bit to avoid the module’s sudden shift.

“Jump! Jump!”

Anakin, Mace, and two troopers practically fell into the gunship’s troop bay. I refused to let the impact of bodies distract me and gave a final metaphysical heave with the Force, pushing the entire collapsing section away from the gunship.

Master Koon’s lightsaber burst into existence and he swiped them through the cables.

“Go! Go!”

I lowered my hands and pulled out of the river of the Force, letting it resume its normal flow.

I vaguely sensed the gunships gunning their throttles to put as much distance from the wreck as possible. Then the bridge module crashed into the main body of the Venator below, setting off a fresh series of explosions and multiple shockwaves buffeting through the air.

“You okay, Snips?” Anakin took off his helmet, revealing a rather bruised face and he winced as the trooper holding him up settled into a more comfortable position.

“I should be asking you that, you’ve spent the last three days with a bridge on your back,” I put my hand on his forehead and pushed my awareness into a general health checkup. “Three broken ribs, a broken leg, muscle strains, bruising, you’re also starving but your meditation trances have staved off the worst effects of that. A night in the bacta tank, a solid meal and you’ll be fine. Where is R2?”

“I sent him to hide nearby until I gave a signal…” he tapped his comlink. “Which I just did. He should come flying at us at any moment.”

I tapped my own comlink to the pilot, “Lieutenant, if you see a blue astromech approaching us, open a door for it to… uh, land I guess.”

“Roger, commander.”

I hurried over to Master Windu and also proceeded to give him a checkup. “No broken bones, Master, bruising and strains only, but you’ve got some damage from smoke inhalation to the fine tissues in your lungs. I can begin the healing process now if you wish.”

He coughed, “That I could’ve guessed, padawan, but… thank you.”

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It took most of a day before the med techs and droids of the Defiance gave the all clear for Anakin and Windu to receive visitors. The ship had in the meantime, retreated into hyper and headed for the nearby Stenos system to rejoin the major hyper lanes of the sector.

I sat down next to Anakin’s biobed and gave him a stern look, sending him a memory of a nice slap upside the head that Padme had given him on Naboo. He rolled his eyes at me and shrugged, accepting the remonstration. His wife had designated me to deliver such tough love whenever he was injured.

“Now, can either of you explain just what the Endurance was doing all the way out here?” Master Koon asked.

“Admiral Killian has lately taken to bringing the clone cadets to less friendly neutral space in the Outer Rim, to bloody them on pirates or criminals,” Windu explained from his bed. The senior Jedi Master, never to spend time idle even when healing, was working on a large datapad. “He generally has them manning the AA guns of the ship under supervision.”

“What of Boba Fett? How did he manage to infiltrate the CYB?” I asked. Young clones were not just identified by their faces after all.

“I’ve been giving some thought to that. It’s possible he was implanted with a black market spoofer. It’s what most criminal slicers use for infiltrating areas that require biochip IDs. Physically infiltrating Kamino is also possible, since they’re now openly trading with the Republic. Boba only has to smuggle himself in with a smuggler compartment built into a shipping container. Then it’s just a matter of walking in and appearing to be an out of bounds young clone. He’d be scooped up quickly and reintegrated into the system.”

“While certainly a useful mental exercise in possibly improving security on Kamino, we must consider the hostages Sing took, that is more urgent. The secrets Admiral Killian holds would fetch a high price from the CIS,” Master Koon said.

“As would Clone Commander Ponds and the Endurance’s navigator,” Windu pointed out.

The chirping of a comlink interrupted further conversation and Master Koon raised his arm to tap on his vambrace. A small holo appeared of Master Gallia. “Greetings Master. The Temple just informed me of a transmission they received a few hours ago. They tried to do a trace, but the best they could narrow it down to was somewhere within your current slice of the galaxy.”

Her holo vanished, only to be replaced with a larger one. Prominent were the bound and gagged figures of Admiral Killian, Commander Ponds and the clone navigator. Standing over them was Boba Fett holding the WESTAR blasters that had to have belonged to his ‘father’, Jango - given that the young Boba wasn’t really sized for them. The holsters on his legs looked almost comically big on his small frame. Yet it was clear that Boba could still handle the blaster to deadly effect by how he was brandishing it at the heads of the hostages.

Standing behind Boba was Aurra Sing. The female palliduvan was clearly not modest about herself at all, given that she was wearing a red catsuit that might as well have been painted on, so tightly did it hug her every curve. She also kept herself in very good shape and would be considered attractive to a vast majority of humanoid species in the galaxy. It was clear immediately that she considered her looks as another weapon in her arsenal, to distract her opponents so she could use the blasters holstered in belts around her shapely hips. The only thing to detract from her appearance was the odd style of fiery brown hair, a single tuft of which sprouted from the top of her head then blossomed into an expansive mane of hair. It was an odd hybrid of baldness and its opposite. She was also cyberized to a minor extent, with a com implant directly in the left side of her head, that stuck out a thin antenna into the air.

“Mace Windu,” Boba sneered. The expression was honestly adorable on that young face and I struggled a bit to bury my amusement and a giggle. It was like being threatened by a baby akul. “You were lucky to escape. Your friends here were not so fortunate.”

“Until you face Boba,” Sing continued, her icy green eyes glaring into the holoreceiver as she threateningly kicked Commander Ponds in the back. “These men will be killed, one at a time. What’s your name?”

Ponds naturally didn’t answer the bounty hunter’s question and received another kick for his trouble. The clone reluctantly said, “CT-411.” Exactly obeying the regs for when a clone was taken prisoner.

Sing scoffed, “Pathetic, Boba do it.”

Boba shifted the aim of his WESTAR to the back of Pond’s head.

The young clone’s grip on the weapon visibly tightened and his teeth gritted as he glared at the back of Pond’s bald head. It was immediately clear to me that he couldn’t do it. He still had the innate human natural programming that prevented him from pulling the trigger in this circumstance. The conflict in his eyes was visible. Made worse by the fact that he was technically trying to kill a clone that shared his blood and face.

“Boba!” Sing snapped.

The young clone suddenly lowered the gun and shook his head.

Sing didn’t waste a second and shot Ponds immediately. The effects of a close range blaster to the back of the head was not pleasant to look at - as Pond’s eyes bulged out awfully and almost burst from the sudden thermal shock transfer through his brain and connected tissues. He slumped forward and the grisly sight was pushed out of the holoreceiver field of view.

“Only two to go, Windu,” she said mildly, a cruel smirk on her face. “Come and find us, we’ll be waiting.”

The holo winked out.

“Was there anything else included in the transmission, Master Gallia?” Koon asked.

Gallia’s holoform winked into view. “None. It seems they want to delay us in finding them. Sing’s endgame is clearly just monetary in selling the hostages. Master Windu’s potential assassination is just a side-benefit and closure for young Boba.”

“I’ll go,” Windu said flatly.

“I thought you had bigger concerns, Master,” Anakin stated - clearly they had spoken at length during their forced convalescence.

“That was before Sing escalated to actually killing hostages.”

“You are still in recovery,” Koon pointed out logically. “Your presence would also only aggravate the boy. Padawan Tano and I will move forward on this.”

Windu clearly didn’t relish the idea of sitting back, but he was old and wise enough to recognize that it was for the best.

“Very well.”

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It must be very nice to be a Jedi High Council member.

Master Koon had taken a small briefing room for our use and not a minute later we were both looking at confidential records that in normal circumstances a padawan or even a commander in the GAR wouldn’t see in a million years. The moment the holographic renderings appeared he just gave me a pointed look and I felt across our bond his clear warning.

I just nodded, bent down in front of the holotank and got to work.

Between the two of us we began reviewing all the records on Jango Fett that were available. I was sure there were probably more at an even higher classification, but those would only be viewable by Chancellor Palpatine.

The first thing we did was find a list of known associates, suspected and confirmed, then started plotting their potential locations on the galaxy.

This started adding too many hits, as many locations were only of sightings and areas where Jango’s associates operated in, not where any potential base of operations or safehouses were.

Many of these data trails inevitably led right back to Coruscant and its undercity levels, usually around sublevel 1300 or more - where most of the criminal underworld lived and operated out of.

Other significant clusters were around typical locations you’d expect like Nar Shaddaa, Tatooine and Mandalore. Looking at it all being plotted out on the galaxy really hit home how well-traveled and successful Jango Fett became as a bounty hunter in the wake of the Mandalorian Civil Wars.

The files even detailed how he had come to own the Slave I - something I honestly couldn’t recall at all from my previous life. It had come originally from the prison moon Oovo 4 in the south-eastern Outer Rim - where the Firespray-31 class starship was used to patrol the space around the prison. Jango stole one for his own use on a contract to organize the extraction of a wealthy prisoner - then later upgraded it into the well known, very deadly starship that it was today.

I brought up the detailed reports on it, not because I wanted to geek out on its tech specs, but because it was highly likely that Sing had inherited Slave I and I could soon be shot at by the ship.

It was really impressive work and made me wonder if Jango was a skilled tech in his own right or if he sub-contracted the upgrade work over the years to successive starship engineers. I would not want to take on this ship even in the Kote, not without upgunning my ship considerably.

Slave I could push 2700Gs of acceleration, could break Mach 1 easily in an atmo and was only slightly less maneuverable than a Jedi D7 starfighter, as Obi-Wan could testify to. His report was included in the documentation. It’s weaponry list was ridiculous - twin rotating blaster cannons that could fire extended duration bursts, missile launchers that carried military grade proton torpedoes, concussion missile launcher, an ion cannon, tractor beam projector and last but most assuredly not least, a bloody singularity bomb launcher.

Yeah, thankfully the absurdity of a seismic charge in space was not a thing.

The singularity bomb was an equal misnomer but merely described a weapon that used hypermatter to create a tiny, very unstable hyperspace event within it. It naturally collapsed as the universe didn’t like having such a type of hole poked in it and in the process released a shockwave of expanding exotic particle radiation. These were radiation types which had equally exotic names from my old life - tau, gluon, muon, tachyon, graviton and boson. They had radically different names here, such as Ter, Dix, Nuk, Gallern, Crim and so on.

Of course, the deeper down a gravity well you detonated a singularity bomb, the worse the effect got, which is the only point you could draw to it being ‘seismic’ in nature.

All in all, the only conclusion I could come to for fighting Slave I, was don’t. I would need my own personally modified Fang fighter that was still being worked on back in Mandalore space to have a decent chance.

“I understand you have an enthusiasm for starships, little Soka, but do keep your focus,” Master Koon’s amusement in his voice was palpable.

I closed the file, “Sorry, Master.”

“Worry not, I think I have deduced a destination for us.” He tapped the terminal and began filtering out scores of locations, until he had reduced it to Sector R5, which the Defiance was currently hypering through. “It was buried in a report on pirate activity, but the Stenos local authority, such as it is, had filed a report of a raid on a local tramp freighter, which further produced a match with our confidential files.”

A profile image of Aurra Sing appeared and right next to it a familiar face appeared. I wasted no time in facepalming rather hard. “Of course.”

Koon chuckled, “Yes, it seems that Sing is linked to the pirate Hondo Ohnaka, who has an operation merely five hundred light years from here in the Florrum system. They were business partners for a time when Sing was seemingly a bit cash strapped and she turned to piracy for a while before returning to the bounty hunting business.”

“So you think she’ll turn to him for a place to conduct this hostage business.”

“Yes, it’s also conveniently on the way to CIS space in the far north-east Outer Rim. There are many minor routes for a ship the size of Slave I to take the long way around, but such a journey will require an extensive fuel resupply, which Florrum has.”

“Hondo didn’t exactly take me on a tour when I was there last,” I said recalling the negotiations that had been done with the pirate to hand over the captured Count Dooku. “But if his operations have only grown he must have some local way of fueling his ships and make a nice profit from any passing starship in the area.”

“We’ll also have to choose a suitable ship to approach Florrum. Approaching openly in an Acclamator is not ideal if we want a chance to rescue the hostages.”

“Nu-class military shuttle? It’s what we used the last time, master.”

“Yes, that will have to do. Ideally, I’d use diplomatic transport and not even hint that we have a military cruiser behind us.” He tapped the terminal, secured the files and powered the holotank down. “Come, we must get this ship turned around.”

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Nine hours later, Nu military shuttle 1313 exited hyperspace beyond Florrum’s mass shadow. It was somewhat of a first for me, as I was the one in the forward cockpit, flying the ship. Thank goodness for GAR military standardization - which meant that once you learned to fly anything designed for the clone army, you could fly all the different Republic craft. The Nu was way more agile than any craft its size had a right to be and all its military defensive systems and ECM would come in handy - though still wouldn’t help against Slave I.

A short two minute journey later and I pulled the shuttle up, decelerated, switched on shields and began an entry translation.

It wasn’t long after, that Hondo’s much expanded operation came into view. Numerous buildings around the original colony center had sprung up, some of them rather industrial in nature and most clearly not conforming to any building code or safety standard. There was even a starship salvage scrapyard on the northern edge of the collective compound.

This place was in effect a freeport town in size and scope, with the understanding that it all belonged to Hondo Ohnaka at the end of the day.

My cursory scans were detecting no sign of Slave I in the freeport or within range but it would be very easy to hide. Most likely sitting powered down a dozen kilometers away in a depression.

As this was a freeport, no one challenged me for my right to land over the radio, so I just picked an empty spot closest to the main colony building and guided the shuttle in for a landing.

The amount of people of various races coming and going was substantial for such a small port, but I could see a lot of upturned curious faces regarding a landed Republic military shuttle with understandable weariness.

I powered down the systems and secured them with my personal codes and biometrics. No one was stealing this ship.

A flick of the switch and my seat lowered into the main personnel bay.

“Nicely flown, Soka. I half-feared you would treat this ship like one of your fighters.”

“Master Koon, a fighter this ship isn’t. Master Skywalker is the one with a penchant for pushing everything that flies into roles that they weren’t designed for.”

“Then I’m glad you’re applying some discernment into what lessons you learn from your master,” he chuckled heartily.

He flicked the switch to open the rear embarkation ramp.

Already standing there, waiting to greet us was the effective pirate mayor of the Florrum freeport.

“Hello, hello, and welcome to Florrum,” Hondo Ohnaka greeted us genially, almost theatrically gesturing around him to indicate the people, buildings and facilities the place offered. The weequay pirate lord certainly also liked to dress the part, with an elaborate red and gold overcoat, high knee boots, brown armored trousers, white shirt and armored cap. He also now wore green aviator goggles over his eyes that I could sense actually held a HUD component.

“Hello, Ohnaka, you’re certainly doing well for yourself.”

The pirate squinted at me. “I know that voice… oh, Jedi Tano?” He laughed in delight. “You’ve certainly grown in many ways… nice armor.”

“Thank you. This is Jedi Master Plo Koon, who’ll be mostly handling the trap you’re about to walk us into.”

Hondo clutched at his heart, “Ah, young, sweet, Tano, you wound me. Would I do that? To you?”

“Yes,” I said flatly.

“Ah well, you’re correct of course,” he smirked and gestured for us to follow him. “They’re waiting inside the bar and I have no idea what she is planning for you.”

The walk to the local cantina was naturally a short one from the landing strips.

“And the reason you are telling us is?” Master Koon questioned.

“So you know that I am not involved in this.” We stopped outside the nondescript cantina entrance, which was suspiciously quiet inside.

“Wow, either Sing is richer than we know or you owe her, Ohnaka - emptying your entire cantina just for our little song and dance,” I pointed out.

“Yes well, just a favor for an old friend,” he demurred, though from what I was sensing from Hondo, that was a friendship with some extreme benefits.

Master Koon paused at the doors, giving me a significant look, before pushing them open.

We both strode into the darkness beyond without hesitation.

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A/N: Hondo returns. Hope you enjoyed, have a good weekend.

The Force Wills - Chapter 42

Ventress stood there looking rather more stately than the last time I saw her. She was wearing a full dress of pure black, with an integrated light brown patterning that flowed from around her neck, crossed under her bust and separated towards her feet. The whole number was completely sleeveless, but she also had arm gloves that left her shoulders bare. Her naturally severe look emphasized by her facial tattoos on her natural alabaster white skin was twisted into a smirk as she stared in our direction.

She also saw fit to no longer hide her presence in the Force, a skill that I could immediately tell had undergone some refinement. Her curved lightsaber blade hilts were in hand and ready.

I held up a fist to signal the squads to hold, nor did I take a single step to move into Ventress’ line of sight.

“Hello Asajj,” I said, infusing my voice with the Force, casting my Farsight as well not only into the entrance hall, but around the temple. “I must say, you’re looking somewhat better, stronger, though still steeped in the Dark Side. How did Count Dooku spin it this time?”

“Don’t think your amateurish Dun Möch can work on me, child,” she hissed.

“There is no such thing, Asajj. It works or it doesn’t,” I pointed out in a disappointed, lecturing tone, that nicely hit the mark on her. “So he didn’t need to lift a finger, you’ve done it to yourself. Lied to yourself about Ky Narec. It is after all…”

“Don’t speak his name!” she shouted and I felt her anger take a nice spike.

“... much better than accepting the alternative. That you were wrong in your motives to join Dooku.”

“Enough! We are not talking about me, child! You will stop or I will kill the last surviving Jedi of this place.”

Another BX droid stepped forward, holding the captive Jedi in question. She was a rather short human, wearing the typical brown robes of a Knight, but with striped adornments that I recognized as belonging to an Alderaanian House, but couldn’t remember exactly which. It was an outfit that was singed and torn in places. Her long brown hair spilling out of the typical circular braids her people were known for The woman who looked in her late twenties, desperately needed a bacta tank dunk; a broken arm, blood from a nasty headwound steadily dripping down her forehead, swollen mouth and right eye. She was cuffed around the neck and wrists with flowing energy binders.

Ventress calmly stepped next to the Jedi woman and rested her hand in an almost friendly fashion on her shoulder, minus the fact that the business end of a deactivated lightsaber was pointed at her neck.

Her name clicked in my head, Saro Brassint - the only Alderaanian among the Jedi here. She wasn’t from a noble house, but it was a relatively prominent family.

“Why are we here, Asajj?” I asked, not entirely faking my weary tone, though I had a good idea already.

“Very simple, little Tano. This temple holds somewhere within it a map.”

“Which you naturally want, of course.”

“To get this map, it’s not just a matter of typing up a terminal search,” she continued. “There is a secret chamber in this Temple, one that I am unable to enter. I tried using the other Jedi Knights to open the way after killing the master and the other one, but rather irritatingly, he refused and sacrificed himself rather than open the chamber. I tried using this one,” she jerked a thumb at Saro, “but the systems in this Temple are surprisingly smart. It somehow knew she was working under threat of death and refused to open for her.”

“So you reactivated the chapterhouse distress beacon after subverting it, using your BX droids to create enough of a local info blackout, luring the closest Jedi in.”

“Cleverly reasoned, Tano. Then who should fate be so kind as to drop in my lap, but you… with no Skywalker, Kenobi or other master to hide behind. A little padawan, who the temple will surely judge as being light enough to enter.”

“And so you will use the threat of killing the last Jedi of this chapterhouse to get me to cooperate,” I sighed. It was the typical trick that was used in the past and would see a resurgence during the time of Empire and the Inquisitors, that would lure Jedi out of hiding, exploiting the protective instinct that Jedi ascribed to all life.

“Precisely,” Ventress nodded with a cruel smile.

I held out my left hand to Ursa, who was crouched right behind me. She frowned, not understanding at first what I wanted. Then I pointed a finger at the WESTAR-35 blaster in her left hand, and made a hither gesture with two fingers.

I naturally would never ask any Mandalorian vassal of mine to do something as culturally taboo and ghastly as disarm, she still had her other blaster.

Ursa reluctantly handed it over after a moment.

I settled the blaster in my hand. It was slightly too big in grip for my hand to be supremely comfortable with it, but I didn’t need to physically pull the trigger when I had TK.

“There is a problem, Asajj, with your ultimatum.”

“Oh? And what’s that little Tano?”

My left hand snaked around the corner and with a twist of will, the trigger was pulled.

The whine of the blaster shot echoed through the corridor.

The bolt shot forth through the air straight and true on target.

Ventress’ lightsaber snapped into life in an instant, deflecting the shot up into the cavernous ceiling.

“What?! You… you… that’s…”

“Akul got your tongue, Asajj?” I smirked. “Or did the shot I just fired straight for my fellow Jedi’s chest muddy things a bit. It’s rather odd that you defended her life… or is it the instinctual realization that without her there, nothing is stopping me and my two squads of Mandalorians and Recon Troopers from utterly stomping you and your droids into the dirt.”

“You’re delusional, brat, if you think you can possibly match me!”

I began signing instructions to my squads and handed Ursa her blaster back. “And you must think I’m stupid, because even if I came out, disarmed and surrendered myself to you to ostensibly save the life of Jedi Brassint, the instant you have access to this map room, you’d just as well kill me and her afterward.”

My mind pinged the nascent Force Bond I had formed with Brassint. It was the dirtiest yet quickest method of bonding that I’d yet tried.

Yes, I had shot her with intent to kill. Her life in the see-saw of probability was hanging by the thinnest of threads. Whether Ventress did it in the next few seconds by throwing caution to the wind and retreating or she was killed in the crossfire of the upcoming firefight, the odds were not in her favor at all. I had shot at her out of cold blooded calculation, to insert doubt into Ventress’ mind, continuing my Dun Möch assault, but also because it was infinitely more survivable with me on hand to provide healing, than what could happen with a lightsaber through the chest or loosing a head.

That was enough for a bond to at least begin.

Knight Brassint, you must drop to the floor the instant I give a signal over this bond, do you understand?

Are- Are- you… the padawan? Tano?... Who just shot at me?

The bond was very rough… her emotions were dull, her focus almost overwhelmed by pain, but she was not a knight for nothing. She might be no Guardian who chewed on battle, bubblegum and spit it out, but her spirit and skill in the Force was still there.

For which I sincerely apologize. I’ll explain if we all make it out of this alive, which is not a sure thing at the moment. I need you to focus and fall to the floor when I tell you. Understand?

Y- y- yes. Fall to floor… when signal…

I gave a last second look behind to confirm my troops were ready.

Ventress spoke in a mocking, cutesy tone. “What if I gave you my word?”

“No problem,” I smiled, injecting levity into my voice.

In the instant, I propelled eight flashbangs high into the entrance hall with TK.

A moment later, six Droid poppers also shotgunned into the room.

I charged in with all my sabers lit and fully in the embrace of the Force, the world around me tunneled as my visual perception distorted by the speed but I wasn’t using my eyes to see at this point. My poor legs were straining from both the Force and raw physical force.

NOW! I screamed into the nascent bond.

Ventress threw a Force Push at the flashbangs, thinking they were Droid poppers, missing the actual threat to her backup.

They burst uselessly high above us into a cacophony of light and sound.

I took my second step in the throws of the Force Speed technique, bringing my focus to fully supporting my weight within the Force, and partially negating my own mass.

Brassint purposely collapsed her legs.

Behind me Ursa and two other Mandalorians pushed forward, raising their arms and firing off their Whistling Birds. They had reacted as quickly as possible, but it still felt like it had taken forever.

One of my lightsabers surged forward in a spinning fan directly towards Ventress’ head.

My third step hit the floor of the entrance hall and I lifted my sabers up and overhead.

The droid poppers went off just as the BX droids fired off a volley.

Naturally, I was the first target, as were the Mandos coming up behind me.

My left saber had to deflect two shots arcing into my chest as I took a fourth step and pushed off into the Falling Avalanche.

Ventress, even though she was the only one keeping up in all this burst of near simultaneous events, was nevertheless surprised when Brassint suddenly wasn’t doing what she was supposed to and my spinning saber had done enough to save the knight’s life. The assassin was forced to use her own right crimson blade to stop her head from being crowned, the TK’d blade bounced off hers and tried to stab into her left side, which occupied her left blade.

Finally I had arrived, covering the distance in less than four seconds roughly.

My sabers crashed onto Ventress with such force that it sent her to single knee in order to cope and defend with her blades held parallel.

Very conscious that I was now literally standing over the helpless form of Knight Brassint, I released a Force Push directly into the assassin’s face.

Ventress was just that moment too late to defend, as I was again not fighting to any typical combat pacing. The Djem So form did not call for a Force Push after a Falling Avalanche.

She was blasted backward into the air and forced to do all manner of twirling to bleed off the momentum and managed to gain some control, landing cat-like on her feet nearly eight meters away.

I stepped over my rescuee and rushed Ventress again.

Blaster fire now began resounding throughout as the full might of Mandalorians and Recon troopers were inside and firing on the surviving BX droids. Droid poppers had taken care of four of them, whilst the Whistling Birds had managed to disable three and damage others somewhat.

I sensed it building and just before we could connect blades again, Ventress shot a stream of Force Lightning from her right hand with a savage glee.

The Darksaber was raised and I focused every sense I had on the technique…

The lightning was pulled and practically hoovered up by the black and white blade to my right, whilst I shot forward to stab directly into Ventress’ right hip.

The satisfaction from seeing that glee turn to astonishment as a ‘mere padawan’ deflected Force Lightning was just pure gold, as she frantically defended herself from the stab and had to abandon the lightning to defend herself as things got close quarters again.

Her blades swung for my face, but I took a tactical step back and let her weapons miss me, before mine came up and smacked them out of the way.

My blades stabbed forward again in a lunge.

She managed to bring her blades back in defense, sealing up her guard quickly, deflecting my blades to the side.

I twirled my blades up and over with my wrists onto her head, stepping into her.

We traded cuts, slashes and lunges in a blur of movement.

The Darksaber managed to singe her whirling dress as she was forced to take two steps back and we reset our stances as we walked in a circle, always facing each other.

I lanced my blades forward threateningly as if I was going to charge again.

She swung, but I stepped back, pulling my blades back and cut rapidly in a strike to the right side of her head.

She only had time to bring one of her blades back in defense, but it was enough and then we were trading rapid cuts and slashes, our momentum carrying us back and forth.

I broke the impasse with my third blade under TK control, trying to literally stab her in the back.

She rather impressively whirled around, breaking contact and the circle of our fight, using one blade to shield her back and bat away my blade, whilst keeping her forward guard up with her right blade.

I now gathered all my blades and fell into my modified Djem So, with the Darksaber in a reversed grip, my green blade pointing directly at her, whilst the third blade hovered, to my right, as if I had a third arm.

She studied my form with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, before attacking with a high yell.

I managed to block her blades with just my left weapon, before lunging forward on one knee, swiping at her legs with the reversed Darksaber, whilst my third blade swiped for her head.

This forced her into a rear somersault to dodge with her typical quick movements.

I disrupted that by releasing a Force Push from my foot in a brief kick.

The Push sent her sprawling to the hard floor again, but she controlled her fall and rolled with it.

It brought her to her feet and she stabbed forward with her blades to interrupt my follow-up charge.

I gave an expansive forward slash that threatened to completely bisect her from left shoulder to right hip with my left blade.

She parried with her own left blade, whilst attacking me with an upward slash between my legs.

I brought the Darksaber down in a defensive attack that stopped that cold, pushing the offending weapon back down and to the right, keeping the blade locked and pushing into her.

“Ha!” I screamed, sending an armored knee directly into Ventress’ ribs.

I heard and felt the air leaving her lungs, including the crack of a rib as she launched herself backwards in a retreating Force Leap, including a few cartwheels to get some more distance.

The instant she had a vertical base again she brandished both her hands at me and tried to nail me with Force Lightning again.

I held up the Darksaber and my left blade.

The lightning crackled and at first threatened to escape my control, but I just managed to wrench it in and hoovered the threatening energy.

“You’re welcome,” the Darksaber sentience whispered in my mind.

I was suddenly flush and overloaded with the Force in a way that could only be explained by…

My hands shot forward and I released something that had to be bordering close to a Force Wave.

It attenuated into the visible spectrum, condensing air and shot forward in an instant.

Ventress’ Force Lightning winked out as she was bowled over and carried over fifteen meters through the air, to land rather painfully on the hard stone. Her cries of pain heralding more broken ribs, the overpressure had also done a number on the soft tissues of her face, as blood leaked from her nose and ears.

She abruptly snarled and launched herself to her feet, very eager to resume the fight but stopped immediately when she took in the situation.

Such as staring down the aimed blaster pistols and rifles of multiple Mandos and Recon troopers, who had successfully finished off the BX droids. A number of the Mandos also had their arms raised, where numerous Whistling Birds were whining, ready to fire.

“Fire,” I ordered over the radio.

Scores of blue stun rings shot out towards Ventress.

Her blades began smoothly deflecting the shots away as she was forced to steadily retreat towards the main entrance of the temple. Whistling Bird volleys were blasted apart by small rapid Force Pushes, that could almost be termed ‘Force Slaps’.

The volume of fire quickly grew overwhelming and I felt the Force flex around her.

A large slab of the floor broke off, shot into the air and began aiding her in resisting the onslaught.

I poured my will into the ground below and ripped out four thick sections of flooring, then sent one hurtling towards her stone shield.

My projectile broke on her shield in an explosion of stone and dust, but its larger mass held.

I sent the remaining three shooting towards her and the entire line of troopers and Mandos advanced on either side of me, continuing to pour stun shots at her.

My kinetic attacks finally shattered the shield and the explosion of rock and dust was the last straw as Ventress blurred with speed out the door.

“Hold,” I ordered.

“Manda’lor?” Ursa asked in confusion at the order.

“While I would like nothing more than to pursue and kill her, that is not why we are here,” I slowly let go and worked on stabilizing my equilibrium in the Force. Ventress had a huge part to play in the future, especially in her interactions with Dooku, then on Dathomir and among the Nightsisters. “She has little but a few BX droids left and her cloaked ship, which is parked a few hundred meters away in the jungle. She has already disappeared to my senses and we have no hope of intercepting her with the Resolute or the Phantom, and unless you can run as fast as a Jedi, you have no hope of catching her on foot.”

I hooked my weapons to my belt, “Besides, I have an apology to give and healing to do. Secure the temple.”

“Yes, Manda’lor.”

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Brassint was already back on her feet by the time I approached her but she was not in any condition to walk, as she had a nasty broken ankle as well in addition to her other internal injuries I could sense. She was rightfully giving me the Jedi equivalent of a cold shoulder and I could sense her fear of me clearly, despite her efforts to bury it behind her Thought Shield. She nevertheless allowed me to sling her arm around my shoulders to help her into the chapterhouse medical bay.

The bay’s lights and various systems, including the resident 2-1B medical droid came to life the instant I slapped the big red emergency button near the door.

“Please place the patient on the biobed,” it droned immediately.

I helped Brassint onto the bed in question and carefully lowered her back to lie down. “Getting these restraints off is the first order of business,” I told her softly.

“Please,” she emphasized.

They were a rather sophisticated model and it was no surprise that Ventress had access to it. It monitored neural activity and generally the moment a Jedi tried anything, such as using TK, it gave a nasty shock. It didn’t prevent passive abilities though and I could sense she was already using the Force to begin healing herself.

The restraints weren’t the type to feature anti-tampering features though and generally assumed that the prisoner was already in a controlled environment and wouldn’t have friendly help on hand.

I yanked a small laser scalpel from a nearby surgical tray with a bit of TK, pulled a backless chair to sit on and carefully got to work.

She visibly swallowed as she heard the scalpel activate and was casting off a large amount of fear into the Force. I could also sense her own anger at herself for feeling that fear. Then came the self-recrimination for doing this in front of a padawan. She was almost literally trapped in a nasty psychological loop because of this trauma.

“Do you usually heal in full armor, padawan?” she asked. Her voice betrayed none of the battle that was going on inside.

“No, not much chance to heal on a battlefield,” I answered as the tiny laser began chewing away at the flexible steel. Merely two seconds later the restraint around her neck was loose and I chucked it away. “Believe me, I’d love to get this helmet off, but until my 2IC tells me the temple complex is secure, it stays on.”

She held up her wrists for me to begin cutting the cuffs. “You and your master fight on the front lines then.”

“Correct.”

Brassint sighed and looked up blankly into the ceiling. “You are as if an ancient Jedi just walked off the pages of the archives, padawan.”

“Perhaps I am,” I nodded in agreement.

“You are called Manda’lor by militant Mandalorians.”

“And I am a Jedi, a rather odd dichotomy, I know.”

After four careful cuts the cuffs fell off.

“Diagnostic complete, I am ready to begin,” the med droid droned, having equipped itself with all the necessary tools, devices and healing stims required.

I pushed my chair out of the way and settled myself near the head of the biobed. Then placed a hand on the injured Jedi’s forehead and began working with the Force on her.

Her senses closely watched my actions.

“You’re skilled,” she declared with some surprise, as the droid began steadily cutting her clothes off, leaving her only wearing chest supports and a modest panty.

“I spent a few years in the Halls of Healing in the Coruscant Temple.”

She winced as the droid got to work with the nasty business of repairing her ankle and affixing a localized bacta immersion boot.

My comlink chirped for attention. “Commander Tano. I’ve been updated on the situation by Captain Rex, do you wish the Resolute closer?”

Velos clearly didn’t relish sitting out in the Oort cloud waiting.

“Bring her into a high orbit, Captain. Launch a ground company to investigate the local capital city. There might be a BX droid squad that’s taken hostages to keep things quiet.”

“Understood, commander.”

Brassint closed her eyes as the med droid began applying salve to her bruised face. I felt her begin the process to enter a healing trance, but quickly she thought better of it and backed off.

I understood her hesitancy. She was far from feeling safe, so I set about doing the healing the hard way.

“Did you even give a second thought about doing it?” she asked abruptly. “That assassin could’ve…”

“I know Asajj Ventress, Brassint. My master and I have crossed blades with her before. Your life was hers in that moment. She wanted to be the one that killed you. You were her bargaining chip and therefore she would defend you from my shot. What I did was the only way to save your life.”

She shook her head, screwing her eyes shut even harder. The emotional impact of the trauma was rearing its ugly head, now that she was coming down from the adrenaline high. There was also the grief for her fellow chapterhouse Jedi that was welling up.

This was a battle I could not truly help her with. I stood, removed my hand from her forehead then bowed to her. “I humbly seek your pardon, Knight Brassint, for the attack upon your person by my hand to facilitate the quick creation of a Force Bond. Whether you grant that forgiveness is entirely up to you. If you call for censure from the High Council, I will accept it without contest. I will leave you to your privacy.”

I stepped out of the med bay, inwardly cursing stupid Jedi dogma and Asajj Ventress.

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The communication room of the chapterhouse was a small area with barely nine square meters allocated to it. The holotank was a slightly older model but it still did the job of projecting Master Koon and Yoda, if with a slight distortion that seemed to give a ghost effect to the holoforms.

“After the Soulsaber, Ventress is.”

“Interesting, and not her master?” Plo Koon queried.

“Dooku needs it not to turn others or kill.” Yoda rested both clawed hands on his gimer stick. “More ability than corruption of others, does the Soulsaber have. Battlemind, it also confers.”

That was essentially the ability of ‘fighting spirit’, to ignore the material constraints of one’s own physical and metaphysical limits. It ‘overclocked’ everything, so to speak. Naturally, the further and longer you used it, the more dangerous it became.

“Facing a stamina juggernaut Asajj Ventress is not an appealing prospect, masters,” I stated wryly.

“Are you certain she did not breach the map room, Soka?”

“Yes master, I double checked when we found the body of Knight Hiremu outside the room.”

“Determined have you, how Ventress succeeded in killing two knights and a master, padawan?”

“I’ve reviewed the security holos of the temples and can only conclude that Hiremu went on a supply run with the chapterhouse shuttle to Shibric. It was there that he was captured by Ventress. From that point he became her means to subvert any security. She killed Knight Salis in his sleep and Master Los in a nasty close quarters duel in the main kitchen, which she only won by the narrowest of margins. The BX droids then captured any tourists that were on site and transported them as hostages back to the local capital. However, when the ancient kyber based protections on the map room denied her access even with Hiremu’s help, she killed him then activated the local distress beacon to potentially draw more Jedi in, using Knight Brassint as a hostage to convince anyone coming to cooperate.”

Yoda sighed heavily and fixed me with a laser eyed stare. “Opinion of her condition, you have?”

“Ventress brutalized her. She clearly felt the deaths of her fellows. She was fully prepared to accept death to protect the secrets of this temple. I shot at her during my use of Dun Möch against Ventress. She’s the sole survivor of this attack. I have a nascent bond with her and I can tell you, she is an emotional wreck at the moment.”

The two masters looked at each other briefly.

“How long until she is at least fit to take a call from us?” Koon asked gravely.

“She finally managed to fall into a healing trance a few hours ago. She also needs a complete bacta immersion, so at best, twenty standard hours.”

“Very well. A final decision will be made then, but it’s more than likely you will need to seal the chapterhouse and transport Knight Brassint back to Coruscant for long term recovery.”

“The procedures for that are somewhere around here?” I asked, feeling slightly lost.

“Brassint knows, little Soka.”

“Good, another question, any ideas of just how Ventress could’ve known about the map to the Soulsaber being in the Temples of Vormijj in the first place?”

“It’s entirely possible that Master Narec could’ve at least told her of the weapon during her time under his tutelage on Rattatak, perhaps as a lesson on dark side artifacts,” Master Koon theorized. “Then when she fell under Dooku’s sway, she might’ve been able to gain further information from him. It wouldn’t surprise me if that man is sitting on an extensive copy of the Jedi Archives on Serreno.”

“Indeed, very resourceful and cunning, my old padawan is,” Yoda grumbled.

I nodded in agreement, “If that is all, masters, I need to sort out the local situation on Pamorjal. They’re not exactly comfortable with a Venator hanging over their heads, not to mention the commando droids taking so many hostages. The war has always been far away in the local populace’s minds.”

“Send our commendations to your troops for resolving that with so few casualties, Soka.”

“I’ll be sure to do that, masters.”

Master Koon folded his hands together solemnly, “However, there is one further matter that you must attend to before you leave the planet.”

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For the next day I handled matters with the local governor and his council via holo, whilst keeping the Blades and the full company of troopers to essentially garrison the temples. There was a chance that Ventress was simply waiting for my guard to lower in a cloaked ship nearby.

I also had to deal with the duty of the Jedi funerals.

This meant a traditional cremation via wood pyre. There was no dry wood nearby in the jungles to gather, so I had to actually order some to be transported from the capital. Word of this naturally got to the governor and then I suddenly had to manage a considerable guest list where everyone with a bit of clout on the planet wanted to attend.

Thankfully, I had all the manpower needed to keep things orderly and civilized, including the ability to seal off the airspace for speeders or shuttles.

I let R3 hold a random lottery for people to fill a set number of seats, whilst I sprinkled the ‘upper strata’ guest seating amongst them. There would be no politicians or elites hogging the front row whilst I had power over things. This was not Coruscant.

By the time Brassint was finished with her bacta tank session, the entire thing was mostly organized, with only minor details left, which needed her input on. She, for example, would need to lead the ceremony - a padawan could do it in a pinch, but this was something that truly needed a more senior Jedi to preside over.

She had used her time in the tank rather well and was in a much better emotional state. I sensed she had resolved the worst of it, but there was no way she was ready to be alone with the ‘ghosts’ of her colleagues in the chapterhouse. That would probably take months, years or maybe never.

“I can do it, if you really don’t feel up to it, Knight Brassint.”

We were standing outside the chapterhouse not a few feet away from the newly assembled wooden pyres on the upper stairs of the temple, where they would be in full view of the funeral attendees.

She was rather blankly reading a datapad with all the details, whilst idly combing her still wet hair, having just come from a shower to rinse off the accumulated bacta gunk. Without a braid, her hair tumbled down to a length just short of her waist and now that her face was healed, I could see her features were sharp, which gave her a permanently ‘severe’ natural expression.

“No, thank you for the offer and your… consideration, padawan. It’s my duty to perform. You’ve done well in organizing this so quickly.” I only bowed silently in response. “The Council no doubt wants to speak with me.”

“They wish you to contact them as soon as possible,” I confirmed.

She gave me an evaluating stare with a raised eyebrow. “Very well. I’d only ask that you trim down the numbers of GAR in attendance slightly. This is not a military funeral.”

“That can be done. They’re here mostly for security and as ushers. If Ventress and squads of BX droids can penetrate this far into Republic space with cloaked ships, then it’s prudent to maintain a high level of readiness.”

She closed her eyes and I sensed she was fighting another battle within herself at hearing that fact. After a few moments she asked, “Out of curiosity, how do Mandalorians handle death and funerals?”

“Bodies of the fallen and their armor are returned to their clans, each clan then has their own traditions that are observed. This can range from entombment if the person who died achieved something truly noteworthy. Otherwise cremation is common, but the ashes are gathered and preserved in the clan’s hall of the dead.”

Brassint nodded before handing my datapad back and walking back into the temple.

I suppose this was inevitable.

I knew I would one day experience the ‘bad side’ of my Force Bonding affinity.

It had been done to save her life, but there was only so far you could stretch that justification. I would do it again, no one would convince me otherwise that it would’ve been better that she died with her fellows. The level of friendship and camaraderie that they had shared beforehand was obvious to sense in her. It happened naturally in remote chapterhouses and was generally encouraged, as more often than not, the only help that was in range was from the chapterhouse - not from distant Coruscant.

Now she was torn from those bonds and the gaps in her heart were bleeding badly.

A cloistered Coruscanti master would waggle fingers and start a lecture on the dangers of such attachment. That was honestly the last thing Brassint needed to hear at this point.

Master Koon would hopefully manage to bring her into the modernized Jedi movement and the right healers to see her. Otherwise, I held grave concerns about her future.

I resolved to send him a private note, just to make sure.

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Roughly under a thousand humans, ithorians and sprinklings of other species, stood under the twinkling stars in front of the Temple of Knowledge. They were all dressed in their own sense of formal wear and remained absolutely silent to pay their respects to the fallen Jedi that had called their world home.

Many who stood here had their lives changed as a result of the works and outreach done by the chapterhouse. The workings of the Jedi Order on the ground level was little known, because those who were most impacted were the ‘little people’, who weren’t galactic movers or shakers. As I walked amongst them, so were there Jedi like Brassint who moved among the ordinary, mundane spheres of civilization.

As presider of the funeral, she was in full formal Jedi robes, with the hood plunging her face into shadow. Only flame torches were used to light the area, giving everything a very surreal yet primal feel. For this event, I had pulled out my own Jedi outer robes, and wore them over my Aegis armor, completely covering it.

Clone troopers stood in single rank file down the sides, standing at attention in parade, with their long blaster rifles held at port arms. The Blades stood similarly but were flanking me at my position near the side of the onlooking attendees and mourners.

Brassint stepped towards the pyres, now holding the bodies of the fallen Jedi, redressed perfectly, looking almost as if they could be just sleeping.

“For many of you, this is the first Jedi funeral you will have ever witnessed,” she began, her voice being carried naturally by both the architecture of the building and with the aid of the Force, to every ear. “Perhaps you may have read something about it. There is little fanfare or ceremony. Just a gathering and silence. The only one who speaks is the Jedi who presides over it. It acknowledges that one element of death, when there is no more sound, no more life from those who departed.”

“But we Jedi also rejoice, because we understand that in death, more life can be fueled and flourish. It is a return to the Force. This can be a difficult concept for many to understand or even accept, especially if the loss is of those we hold close and dear. Water does not vanish when the sun scolds the earth, it merely changes, so too does life.”

She lifted a brightly burning torch and approached the pyre of Master Los, and gently placed the flame into the base.

“My fellow Jedi, from this moment I step into my next. From this place, I step into my next. From this life I step into my next. For I am one with the Force, forever and forever.”*

The sound of flames igniting tore through the air as it quickly and efficiently spread throughout the entire pyre within moments.

“My fellow Jedi, from this moment I step into my next. From this place, I step into my next. From this life I step into my next. For I am one with the Force, forever and forever.”

She approached and lit the pyre of Knight Hiremu.

She repeated the Coxixian Prayer for the Departed that the Jedi Order had adopted from the Guardians of the Whills, then finally lit the pyre of Knight Salis.

Her duty performed, she threw the torch into the final pyre and stepped up five of the expansive stairs to overlook the pyres and everyone, then bowed her head.

In a moment of unspoken agreement and solemnity that resounded through everyone, we all bowed our heads and waited for the pyres to burn completely down.

The time it took, I couldn’t begin to guess.

It felt like I had inadvertently entered into a Force communion just standing there.

Brassint finally raised her head, “Thank you for coming. Return to your homes, take this event and words into your heart and spirit. We will all one day take this journey.”

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It took a further two days to get everything squared away to seal up and secure the chapterhouse. Not everything would remain in it though and we had to spend a number of hours packing, loading and transporting holo slates filled with more sensitive knowledge as well as a number of artifacts that the chapterhouse had collected over centuries, which would find a new home in the Coruscant Temple archives.

The tourist company that operated tours to the temples pledged to invest in the active monitoring and security of the chapterhouse, which was a nice gesture. It wasn’t technically needed as the temple’s own inbuilt security was now fully active, which would be a nasty surprise to any would-be looters or even Ventress, should she decide for another shot. These defenses were generally kept off because it would’ve disrupted the chapterhouse’s function as a place to actually live in.

The Resolute broke orbit and plunged into hyper for eleven hours and then rejoined the Hydian Way northward, resuming the journey to Coruscant.

It remained in the Hydian for another one and a half days before leaving hyper in the very busy Denon system - the major interchange that allowed ships to switch onto the Corellian Run and head further northward towards Corellia itself and onward towards Coruscant.

Life aboard Resolute resumed, only now I had a rather fresh and direct awareness of where Brassint was in the back of my mind. The bond would either strengthen or wither depending on our respective intent and feelings towards each other. Eventually it would die off, but that would take time. Things were rather complicated in the Force in this respect.

It did surprise me that she would eventually find her way to the forward hangar and visit the Zillo beast corpse. She was utterly fascinated by the thing, but I could sense a heavy decision weighing on her.

It was enough that I decided I had to impose my presence on her, if only to satisfy my own honest curiosity on her feelings.

She stood in her Jedi tunic, pants and boots, minus the outer robe and was honestly gaping as her eyes studied the massive form of the Zillo. In her right hand, she was idly twirling her own lightsaber hilt, deftly spinning it through her fingers with the help of minor bits of TK, almost imitating prestidigitation.

“I see you’ve found the Zillo,” I smiled mildly at her.

“It’s amazing,” she said distantly. “It’s truly one of a kind?”

“As far as can be determined, the Dugs hunted them to extinction in a domination contest for their planet. This one remained underground in a truly stupendous hibernation period - initial analysis of local geology where it emerged, estimates thousands of years at least.”

She shook her head in amazement, “The biology it must have… to last that long.” Then she coughed slightly and her embarrassment was clear. “Apologies padawan, my emotions distracted you.”

“A welcome one,” I wiped off the sweat from my brow and montrals. “You haven’t trained until you have an insistent Mandalorian as a taskmaster. So, you have an interest in biology?”

“More than that, my primary research assignment at the chapterhouse was in stellar biology. Studying the plant and animal life of the sector.”

If the Force was someone I could look at, I’d be giving them a deadpan stare.

“Then I take it, you'd be interested in studying it.”

“Of course,” she said with an air that it should’ve been obvious. “Though that is not something that could happen for at least six months. I- I’m taking an extended meditative retreat.”

“Those can be good, I hear. Never needed one myself.”

“A bit too early in your career for that, padawan,” she pointed out, then sighed, staring down at her lightsaber. “I spent seventeen years at the chapterhouse. I did the work, did a couple of foundling missions, traveled, and did research. Master Los kept our bladework up to scratch.” She thumbed the activation switch and a long emerald blade ignited into being. “All that work and training throughout my childhood and further career… gaining my knighthood and the day that it should’ve mattered, I couldn’t cross blades with Ventress. She had already taken Hiremu hostage and I had no choice but to drop my lightsaber to the ground or else she would…”

Brassint closed her eyes and took a deep breath, working through her anger. She did it rather well, though naturally not in the way I would’ve done it.

“I could tell I wouldn’t win if it came down to a contest in the Force directly, her darkness was just too much and so I became another hostage.”

“If you had fought anyway, forced the contest, what would’ve happened?” I pointed out.

She considered that for a moment, “She would’ve killed me.”

“Then you did the right thing in the moment.”

“The right thing,” she said softly. “I can just hear Master Los clipping me upside the head for being so foolish, for feeling this way.” She extinguished her lightsaber and looked at me. “You up for a spar, padawan?”

I could sense she definitely needed a good workout, if only to regain some confidence in herself again.

“I’m a bit tapped, but mastery is a never ending journey. I’ll show you to the Danger Room.”

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A/N: *Prayer quoted from the novel ‘Guardian of the Whills’ by Greg Rucka.  Hope you enjoyed.

The Force Wills - Chapter 41

Organizing the transport of a 99 meter long, 60k ton corpse across the galaxy was not your everyday logistical feat. Made especially more difficult when the brainiacs of Republic R&D decided that they wanted to be lazy and asked for the Zillo beast corpse to be brought to Coruscant.

Then because it was menial, busy work and not exciting at all, the job had to be foisted off onto the padawan.

“Come on, Snips, it’s not like I’m going on vacation,” Anakin explained, as we watched the giant corpse slowly being lowered by LAATCs onto a rather equally giant transport pallet that we had designed with help of Resolute’s engineers.

As we were on the tail end of a major campaign, a lot of shipping pallets that had carried everything from ammo to food were now empty. They were big, sturdy and came with built in repulsors. In the end, we ended up building the Corusca equivalent of a modular transporter out of nearly 80 shipping pallets, bolting them together and slaving their controls to a singular system.

“It might as well be a vacation, training the Clone Youth Brigade is easy duty,” I waved off his argument.

Though the clones mature faster than the typical human’s natural growth cycle, they didn’t spend all that time only on Kamino and its training facilities. They also had ‘in-the-field’ training rotations. How this was done when the clone army’s existence was being kept secret was something I didn’t know, but there was a lot of unmonitored real estate in the galaxy to get lost in, so it wasn’t really surprising.

These training rotations, now that the war was ‘hot’, were done on allocated Venator star destroyers that generally kept themselves far away from the front lines. The Youth Brigade were clones who were roughly the equivalent of 12 to 13 years old biologically, who were about to undergo the final accelerated ‘sprint’ to adulthood. It was the perfect time to train a lot of the foundational skills of what made a Republic clone trooper the soldier he was.

The LAATCs released their cables and the massive corpse sunk all its weight onto the modular pallets. They sank a few centimeters abruptly but kept their cohesion and repulsion.

I released a bit of tension and worry into the Force.

It was one thing to show it working on paper, doing the math a dozen times that showed it would work. The practice and the actual doing part was something else.

A bunch of flying cargo droids now picked up what had to be the largest single organic plasticine sheet in existence, made with the help of Malastarian industry, and slowly began pulling and draping it over the giant corpse. This combined with turning an entire forward hangar bay of Resolute into an impromptu morgue by lowering the temperature considerably, would keep the natural decay processes at bay during the journey to Coruscant.

There had also been talk of perhaps using carbonite freezing to stop it even further, but that was absolutely bonkers. I had half a mind to set up a holonet call, just to remotely slap the scientists upside the head. The only way to get enough of the carbonite material would’ve been to park the Resolute directly over a factory of the stuff. Not to mention there wasn’t a carbonite freezer system in the galaxy that was designed to operate on the scale required. That didn’t even take into account how the Zillo beast’s utterly unknown biochemistry would react to such treatment.

“Let’s get out of here, Skyguy. It’s gonna get quite chilly here soon.”

We left the forward hangar bay and headed for the nearest turbolift.

“So how are you feeling about this?” Anakin asked into the din of the grav motivators humming through the lift.

“Master, there is nothing to feel. It’s a simple cruise back to Coruscant.”

“Without me or even Yularen to back you up, Snips. You’ll be the sole command authority of the Resolute. You have Captain Velos as your second, the department heads and that’s it.”

Velos was a naval clone that had been serving on Resolute for a month now; decent guy, competent like they all were. I sensed that he really didn’t like playing fourth fiddle in the chain of command though. He wanted his own Venator and I didn’t blame him one bit for feeling that way. He unfortunately had the bad luck of what sci fi nerds generally called the ‘Riker Curse’. The man had so far in the war been just too damn good at being a 2IC, that no one wanted him pushed to the top spot.

He kept pushing for it though with his top performance and filing every request the regs allowed. Captains eventually had no choice but to transfer him.

On the Resolute, most of the time he was on the port side flight bridge doing an excellent job of commanding it.

“It should be a nice relaxing nine days, Skyguy. By the way, what ship are you and Windu taking the kiddy clones on?”

“The Endurance.”

I nodded in understanding. “A good ship, I’ve heard nothing but good things about Admiral Kilian.” I pushed my next thoughts down our bond.

“Anakin, make sure Mace Windu never rests.”

He blinked at me in confusion before his expression turned neutral. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“What are you talking about, Snips?”

“I’m afraid your training cruise is going to be interrupted. All I can say; don’t let Windu rest.”

His irritation surged, “Snips, I hate it when you do that.”

“Master, I’ve taught you enough about the future and foresight. You know, that even knowing about it will change it. You are involved in this probability path, as am I. If too much deviation occurs-”

“Yes, yes, great. So much for light duty.”

“You’re horrible at it anyway, Skyguy.”

“Hey!”

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Resolute began its long voyage to Coruscant and I spent the first few hours in meetings with the various department heads. It was the long, boring drudgery of digital paperwork that greased the various cogs of the ship and made it into a functioning vessel according to the standards of the Republic Navy.

Everyone only saw the big flashy amazing star destroyer. They didn’t know the amount of work required just to make sure the thing functioned as a ship that could fly through hyperspace. It felt like my thumb was about to fall off from all the times I had jabbed my biometric authorization onto a digital form.

It was especially bad after a campaign, as requisition and resupply forms had to get into the system. So that when Resolute made port in Coruscant, everything would already be waiting for the logistics boys to load up the ship.

Thankfully by the end of the first day that was over and I could go back to a more normal schedule, at least, normal by my standards.

This meant a resumption of training in the onboard Danger Room, as well as including the onboard squad of Mandalorians in that training.

The Blades had been deployed on the Malastare campaign. They had been involved in securing a vital bridge on the right flank of the advance leading into Pixelito, which had allowed AT-TEs to successfully break through CIS droid lines.

“Ready?” I asked the twelve Blades who surrounded me in a large circle.

We were all in full armor and they all had their blaster rifles and pistols hanging from harnesses or in holsters. Training without armor was generally pointless to a Mandalorian, but it was taught nevertheless as there might be times where there was just no time to get into the full beskar’gam or in an ambush situation.

The nine men and three women nodded at me.

“Begin.”

Everyone brought their weapons to hand and raised to fire at me.

The snap-hiss of three lightsabers resounded throughout the training room and I began moving.

The sabers began whirling around me as I blurred forward.

Blaster fire came at me from every angle.

Even with my sabers moving as fast they could through TK control, it was impossible for them to intercept everything.

That was where the Ataru lightsaber form and training came in.

I twisted and flipped through the air, controlling my own body’s movement to generate misses and dodges.

The next moment I was right in front of one of my opponents and gave him a light shove with a hand.

As per the rules of the exercise, he was now ‘disabled or dead’ and out of the fight.

I had broken the ‘circle’ and now everyone was free to move and try to hit me.

I didn’t make it easy; jumping, twirling, deflecting blasts straight back at my opponents to hit them straight on their chest plates, using others to limit their lines of fire.

Two even tried using their jetpacks to hover around and fire at me from above.

Everyone else thinking of pulling the same trick quickly thought better when I used a combination of Force Push and Pull to slam them together in mid-air and leave them groaning in pain on the floor.

When they managed to get enough volume of fire on me to make things too difficult, I TK’d one of them towards me as I moved and added him to my hovering defenses. Using his beskar’gam to act as a shield. It was rather nasty using a human shield and not very Jedi-like, but the Jedi had a saying ‘What is in the way, becomes the way.’ He was a big tough Mando boy, he could take it and it wasn’t like we were using lethal settings, though it was still strong enough to hurt.

Then two of my opponents threw three flashbangs straight at me.

The devices were utterly pointless to use against anyone with beskar’gam or Aegis armor. The visors of our helmets would polarize against it, but the rules of the exercise meant I had to treat it as if it was a thermal detonator thrown by a commando droid.

I couldn’t use my ‘human shield’ to intercept the grenades, that could potentially send him to the infirmary with concussion. Clever.

It forced me to let go of my Mando shield, allowing the focus to throw a Force Push that sent the grenades wildly off course.

The room was filled with a concussive bang and bright light.

My whirling sabers deflected four shots as I somersaulted directly over a charging Mando, who was trying to engage me with a holdout vibroblade.

I slapped him on the back of his helmet, putting him out of the fight.

In the next moment, I proved my inexperience with Ataru as I fudged a sideways cartwheel immediately after I had gotten my feet back under me.

My remaining opponents pounced, nailing me with three shots into my back as I lay sprawled on the floor.

“You’re dead, Manda’lor,” declared Ursa Wren, the Captain of the Blades squad on the Resolute.

“That I am,” I acknowledged as I accepted her hand to help me to my feet. My hovering lightsabers extinguished themselves and returned to my belt. The rest understood that as the sign we were pausing the exercise.

Ursa, was countess and leader of Clan Wren, who was a vassal of my own House Vizsla. This relationship, which I inherited as leader of Vizsla, meant that I had to pretty much accept Ursa and five of her clansmen as my ‘unofficial yet official’ bodyguards. The best way to allow that was to simply subsume the six of them into the official squad of Blades that were assigned to the Resolute.

She was an absolute beast with those custom WESTAR-35 blasters of hers and a very pragmatic leader, strong, who wasn’t a gloryhound. A perfect fit for the leader of the Blades I wanted closest to me on the Resolute.

“I am unfamiliar with the form you just used, Manda’lor. It looked impressive if unrefined.”

“It’s called Ataru, and it's unrefined because I’m still a novice at it. Hence, the reason for these exercises.”

“Curious, you’re expecting to be outnumbered at some point, Manda’lor?”

“Ideally, I’ll never be in such a position in the first place, Captain Wren. One must always prepare for the worst, however.” Ursa nodded in understanding. Of course, this Ataru training was simply my overt first line of defense. My true defense was being practiced unseen as this exercise continued. “Okay everyone, back to starting positions. You’re not just here to train me. We have at least another hour of this.”

Ataru was not the best form to use against multiple blaster wielding opponents, but it was the only way to weave my deception for any eyes that were looking. There was a point though where Ataru mastery became useful against such foes, as Yoda ably demonstrated.

By the end of the training session, I had at least increased the amount of time I lasted against them to just under a minute and one occasion had even managed to ‘kill or disable’ all of them.

It was a good start and by the time we had reached our third day in hyperspace we were all well into the rhythm of training. It wasn’t just them trying to constantly tag me with blaster fire, but we also drilled small unit team tactics and a few other typical maneuvers that I generally used with clone troopers. The thing I had to get used to though was the level of ‘durability’ the Blades had due to their beskar’gam. They were essentially walking ‘tanks’ and I didn’t have to spare as much worry or focus on avoiding them getting hit, unless it was a shot that made it through the gaps in their armor.

It was also on this day that I received a holocall from a rather surprising place.

I got up from my bed and after making sure I was at least decent and presentable from the waist up, opened up the holo link. A quick look at the address codes of the transmission, showed it was coming from Shili. My brain struggled to remember anyone who had my holo codes and address from the togrutan homeworld. Not even my biological parents had it.

There was a brief flashing of Aurebesh characters as it indicated a rather high level encryption was at work, before the holo resolved to display my caller as a rather distinguished looking togruta. He had prominent pointed montrals that practically jutted forward from his head like the horns on a bull, with lekku reaching his lower chest, all of which was colored white and orange-brown of patterned coloration. His crest of akul teeth on his head showed that this guy took his hunting seriously and the body beneath these formal clothes was clearly well trained and active.

He bowed his head slightly in greeting, “Padawan Tano, thank you for accepting my call. My name is Minister Zabror. I serve in the Finance ministry of the United Tribes.”

I returned his bow as appropriate, whilst subtly initiating a secondary trace in the background. “Minister Zabror. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” My other senses plunged through the Force, using the call to give me a perception of his surroundings. He was indeed in a rather expansive office and the large window definitely showed the cityscape of Corvala beyond - the capital of Shili. I sensed no deception and a background search on my terminal showed that he was indeed Sabym Zabror, Minister of Finance for the monarchial government of Shili. It began to explain how he got my contact details. “What can I do for you?”

He gave a brief smile and chuckled, “You can make the lives of a number of my accountants much easier, padawan. You recall that you and your master, Knight Skywalker, sent the designs for those ingenious helmets our military and security forces are all breaking down our doors for?”

I frowned, “Yes I do, Minister.”

“Well, it turns out that someone in the long chain of people doing the approval and digital paperwork, got a bit too literal with the procedures or simply failed to pay attention. They ended up putting both your names on a patent filing with the Republic Patents Office. Someone on the Coruscant side also wasn’t paying attention and it was approved. In the meantime, production of the helmets began locally here on Shili by Kibro Defense Works. The first run had already been bought and paid for by the royal military. This means that percentage royalties began automatically accumulating in the Shili Central Bank… in you and your master’s names.”

I plopped my head on my fist as my mind whirled through all of the implications and problems this generated. As much as I was generating money and wealth secretly, not to mention the wealth that came from the Clan Vizsla side… both of those were exceptions and this was money that by its nature was in the open and visible. It was work that both Anakin and I had done for my own safety and had given away freely to the togruta government. Now because of some bureaucratic drones who couldn’t think outside the box for a minute…

“Minister, you understand that as Jedi we can’t accept this money.”

“Yes, but that makes little difference to my balance sheets, padawan. This money has to go somewhere.”

“Just how much are we talking about here?”

“It’s currently sitting at 1.5 million credits. That’s just after the military production run. Police and local security will also be getting their versions of the helmet built soon. After that, the money will continue to trickle in over time as helmets experience wear and tear. There’ll eventually be the civilian version as well.”

“So essentially a continuous income stream for the lifetime of the patent. How long are those?”

“Fifty years minimum, subject to renewal if desired by the holder or any named legal descendants.”

There were only a few options I could really see here off the bat. I couldn’t direct the funds to my secret business unless it went through a totally impractical number of fake companies, which was money laundering at the end of the day, even though that only applied to money gained through criminal activities. Donating it to various charities did have some appeal, though that still required a proper bank account in either my name or Anakin’s, which wasn’t happening. I could direct it to my various Vizsla accounts on Mandalore and Concordia. That would require me to properly prove to the Shili Central Bank that Ahsoka Vizsla was also Ahsoka Tano.

What a mess.

“Would setting up a permanent transfer to a nominated 3rd party be acceptable, minister?”

He scratched his chin in thought before consulting his own terminal briefly. “Yes, with the caveat that you compose a legal declaration empowering the 3rd party to accept and administer the funds on your behalf.”

“Any specific legal requirements on Shili for that?”

“No, the standard declaration that you’d use on Coruscant would suffice, padawan.”

I started tapping on my terminal, searching the holonet for that legal form and luckily found it rather quickly.

“I’ve got it, I’ll fill it out and transfer it to your office as soon as possible, minister.”

He nodded. “Thank you, padawan. Speaking in a personal capacity, I want to thank you for what you and your master achieved with that design. I have a son in the military and the thought that one day we might have to deploy our forces in this awful war is not comforting, but if we do… well, that helmet will save a lot of lives.”

“That’s why we built it, minister.”

He bowed his head in reply. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work, so I won’t take up more of your time. May the Force be with you, padawan.”

“And you, minister.”

His holo flickered and vanished.

I somewhat dreaded my next call. I was going to have to convince Padme to sign her name to that 3rd party legal administration. She had already gone to bat for Anakin and I in a number of cases regarding finances, assets and wealth… what was one more?

I was half afraid she was going to accuse us of turning her into our impromptu financial manager.

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The fourth day of our journey saw me receive another call in the middle of the day’s training session with the Blades.

My lightsabers deactivated, “Time out, everyone, I have an urgent com link.”

All of them visibly relaxed and holstered weapons.

I had to take the time to remove my Aegis helmet, before holding up my palm. The small holo that materialized had me automatically smiling.

“Master Koon, good to see you.” My senses registered that he was in the main communication center of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

The Kel Dor Jedi Master did his equivalent of a smile behind his breather mask, “Hello, little ‘Soka. Sorry for interrupting your training.”

“No, no, not a problem. I trust you’re doing well?”

“That depends on who you ask, Soka. The north is holding, our offensives have unfortunately not gained us as much ground as we hoped.”

“That’s frustrating, but I meant-”

“I’m in good health and mind, Soka,” he chuckled. “Now, I would enjoy nothing more than to share some ‘small talk’ with you, however, this call is official and the Council has an assignment for you.”

“That it’s not going through Master Skywalker must mean some significant extenuating circumstances.”

“Rest assured, he has been fully informed and agreed that you can take this on. You are the closest capable Jedi that can be sent given the time constraints and you have the full resources of the Resolute behind you.” His holo vanished, to be replaced by a starmap of the current sector the ship was cruising through. A system 400 lightyears off the Hydian Way, accessed via a secondary hyperspace route was highlighted. “This is Pamorjal. It is home to the Temples of Vormijj; three ancient Jedi temples, one of which is being used as a chapterhouse, whilst the others are local tourist attractions.”

That was an arrangement that sometimes happened, especially in the Expansion Regions and when a Jedi temple was structurally and architecturally significant. It was seen as a cost benefit to both support the chapterhouse and encourage the local tourist economies.

“The problem is that yesterday the chapterhouse activated its distress beacon. Attempts to contact it on all channels met with no response. Remote access to the chapterhouse’s systems also failed. We next contacted the local authorities and they were surprised that there was a problem at all.”

I frowned in puzzlement, “Wouldn’t they have also picked up the chapterhouse distress beacon?”

“They should’ve, but promised to investigate. We have yet to hear back from them.”

I poked at the holo and zoomed in to a planetary level of Pamorjal itself, reading the general stats and conditions of the planet.

“Barely three million people, mix of human and ithorian citizens. They have just about a thousand law enforcement officers. Vast unpopulated areas. It’s not surprising they’re not exactly fast to respond, Master.”

Koon’s holo reappeared. “That is the reasonable consensus to draw. However, the Council senses something off about the whole situation.”

That was rather alarming. “Off enough that you’d divert the Resolute, including delaying the Zillo beast corpse delivery, to investigate.”

“That creature’s body will keep. We worry about the living, Soka. The lives of the Jedi at the chapterhouse are more important.”

“Of course, Master. I’m just not looking forward to the screaming coming my way from the scientists on Coruscant,” I said with a wry smile.

“In that case I suggest you put a redirect from non-military channels on your comlink for the next few days.”

“Good idea, Master. I’ll get our course adjusted, we should be over the planet in eleven hours.”

“Excellent, Force be with you, little Soka.”

“And you, Master.”

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Resolute emerged from hyper in the outer Oort cloud of the Pamorjal system.

That the Jedi Council had sensed something off about the planet all the way from Coruscant had tickled my paranoia and my prescience was also oddly inconsistent and almost occluded whenever I turned my mental gaze to the future here. It didn’t take long for a remote search of the Jedi archives to discover the reason why I was sensing the Dark Side so distinctly from the planet.

Somewhere on the southern hemisphere of that planet, an ancient battle had taken place between the Jedi and a group of fallen Jedi. The latter of which had been in possession of a unique lightsaber known as the Soulsaber. It was a weapon almost purely of the Dark Side, a nexus in itself. There was no description of how it looked in the archives, but its effects were clear.

It was a tool of corruption and darkness. Any Force Sensitive and Jedi within its presence felt nauseous or instant migraines form the dark energy it radiated outward. Even non-sensitives could feel the damn thing. It was created to not only kill in direct combat, but could even warp the most saintly of Jedi towards the dark side within its proximity.

The battle that took place was bad enough to leave its scar on the planet, literally creating what was now known as the Pamorjal Badlands, a Dark Side nexus in its own right. A volcanic place where not even microcellular life could take hold.

The construction of the Temples of Vormijj by the Jedi survivors of that battle was entirely in response to the new nexus that had been created, in an effort to at least create balance on the planet.

That Pamorjal was otherwise a planet of jungle, lakes and swamps that teemed with local life showed that those ancient Jedi had been successful. The question now though was what could’ve caused the chapterhouse to apparently fall and for the locals to so dither in sending aid to what was a vitally important source of tourism revenue.

Passive sensors showed nothing amiss in the system at all. Analysis by the ELINT division of the Holonet traffic to and from the planet, what little there was, also didn’t reveal anything suspicious or that sent up red flags.

“This would go much faster if we used active sensors, commander,” Captain Velos pointed out reasonably. Damn, the man could easily be used on a recruitment poster. He was a Jango Fett clone like all the others, but he was so prim and proper, that he made even Rex look like a slob in comparison.

I turned my command chair slightly to face him, “Yes, it would, captain. But would ruin any element of surprise.”

“We are more than six thousand light years from the front, commander. Who would we be worried about?” Velos asked in confusion.

“There are more deadly things in this galaxy than just Separatist war droids, captain. You’ll also find I prefer to assume the worst about any situation. That is also why I’m keeping us radio silent and not telling the locals that we have arrived.”

I hopped to my feet and smiled. “Now, prepare the Phantom for launch. We’re going in stealth. Prepare a hyper jump that’ll bring the Resolute directly beyond the mass shadow of the planet, least time course from the Temples, when I signal.”

“As you order, commander. I just wish I understood why.”

“You haven’t served with a Jedi that long, captain. You’ll see. You have the bridge.”

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The thin form of the Phantom emerged from the dorsal hangar doors of the Resolute and after a brief thruster burn to put a decent separation between the two ships, shot itself into a brief hyper jump that would bring it into the shadow of the outermost planet of the system.

It was possible that the hyper emergence would be detected by ground based sensors of Pamorjal traffic control, but the performance of such civilian systems made it an acceptable risk to take. There was no way we had the time for the eleven day realspace trip it would take to traverse the distance from the Oort cloud otherwise.

The ship cloaked itself immediately and emerged from the shadow of Pamorjal IX, a tiny barren rocky planet devoid of any atmosphere or any significant mass limit to impede a hyper engine.

“Six hours, twenty four minutes to Pamorjal, commander,” reported the Phantom’s clone pilot.

“Thanks Zugo, good work on that jump,” I patted the pilot on his pauldron.

“It’s what I’m here for, commander.”

I walked off the forward bridge deck, various weapon control stations and into the rear cargo decks. The Blades and Rex’s Alpha Recon squad were all here busy checking equipment, cleaning weapons and generally going through all those little personal rituals that soldiers seemed to develop over time.

The one exception to that was Ursa Wren, who was tapping away at a datapad rather furiously. I could sense her emotions all over the place, but I had a feeling as to the problem.

I sat down next to her and suddenly felt a distinct fulcrum in the probability lines roar down upon me.

Oh boy.

She tapped the datapad to power it down and looked at me expectantly and stiffened in her seat, “Manda’lor.”

“At ease, captain. I apologize for interrupting your train of thought. Please keep writing if it’s urgent.”

“No, Manda’lor. It’s not urgent, it’s just… No, what can I do for you?”

I smiled broadly in amusement, “That should actually be my question.” Her dark eyes set in an angular face scrunched in honest confusion. It was not an expression you’d expect to see on the seemingly formidable, self-assured tall woman, who towered above me by twenty centimeters.

“Manda’lor?”

“It’s the annoying thing about us Jedi. We see so much more of the universe than ordinarily folk. When we see something wrong therefore, sometimes we just can’t help ourselves. It’s like seeing a perfectly flat savannah of grass, then suddenly you find a barren patch where nothing grows.”

“And now you see something wrong with me?” she asked dubiously.

“Not wrong, just whatever you were doing was causing you considerable distress. You are my primary bodyguard and a vassal to my house. I’d like to think eventually we could become friends. What’s wrong, Ursa?”

“I- I appreciate the offer, Manda’lor. There is little you can do to help in this. Not unless you can end the war tomorrow and with respect, I think you are too young to advise me on this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t end the war with so little time to work with. I’m a Jedi, captain, not a miracle worker,” I smiled wryly even as my mind was racing and wrestling with various probability lines. “If that letter you were composing was what I think it was, then you’re correct. I couldn’t advise you about the complexities of love, life and the heart. I can’t even confidently say I’ve fallen in love with anyone yet.”

“The Jedi cloister their people too much,” she scoffed. “When I was your age, I had at least done that twice and had my heart broken each time.”

“Yet here you are, breaking your own heart this time,” I raised my brows pointedly at her and bemoaned my loss of eyebrows in this life, though my facial patterning was a reasonable substitute. She folded her arms and despite her poker face, I could tell how disgruntled she was that I had hit the mark so well. “Hit me with your worries, Ursa. You can’t do so with any of your clanmates because you’re their leader. What do you have to lose at this point, given you’re writing a breakup letter?”

“Shabla Jetii,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Shabla Jetii,” I agreed with a chuckle.

Ursa huffed in exasperation, and blew her low hanging fringe out of her eyes. “You’re correct, Manda’lor. It is a breakup letter. There is someone who has captured my heart on Mandalore. He proposed some months ago and I accepted. Then the war started, the former Vizsla gathered the Death Watch and I was obligated to follow his banner. Nothing indicated we would ever carry our fight beyond the sector, so I had no cause to worry. It was a fool’s hope, I suppose. Then you came… I- I hated you at first. I was all ready to join that chakaar in trying to defeat you but in that moment, I could only see the face of my Alrich and I just couldn’t do it. Then you exposed the dar’manda for what he truly was and I was utterly relieved, vindicated. I might’ve been uncertain in what direction you would lead us, but your actions speak for you, Manda’lor.”

She took a deep breath, “Now, here we are, Mandalore in a galaxy at war until whatever end it carries us. Here I am, thousands of lightyears from home, where a shabla soulless droid can possibly kill me in any of the campaigns to come. How can I be so selfish as to keep him bound to me? Having to endure the pain of my death in this war.”

Oh, why do people try to apply the mind and logic to matters of the heart? “If he truly loves you and even if you do this, your death will still devastate him. You will not spare him any pain. Your connection to him through the Force is already set - that I can see plainly.”

It was true. She couldn’t perceive it or work with it as a non-sensitive, but the bond was there. Here was yet another illustration of the ripples I was casting into the fabric of time. How many people on Mandalore would not meet because the war had called them away or got them killed? In the same vein, how many more would be born because the civil war had not occurred?

Ursa pursed her lips briefly and looked away. I could see my words had hit home. “You rightly expose my fear, Manda’lor. I’m a fool.”

“Perhaps, but I hear that comes with the territory when in love. It’s why we Jedi are discouraged from it. Love can make you do many stupid things and when Jedi do stupid things - the consequences can be very devastating. Any student of Jedi history can tell you that. So cherish the love and the time you have with him, it is a gift, don’t squander it. Fight for it, live for it. That’s an order from your Manda’lor.”

I could see the fire in her eyes had awoken, she nodded. “Understood, Manda’lor.”

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The Phantom put itself into a low orbit over the Temples of Vormijj and turned every passive sensor it had onto the place.

The Jedi who had built the place hadn’t gone to half-measures. It was worthy of being put right alongside the Pyramids at Giza or any other man-made wonders of my old world. The temples were situated next to a river, which had been expertly diverted into an aqueduct like structure to create a diverted flow so that the water flowed perfectly on either side of the massive structures.

Each temple had an expansive wide staircase that led up to the base of the structure, which featured a massive door that when closed formed the classical representation of a lightsaber in relief. The main building towered nearly 142 meters into the air with smaller squared towers bordering it. It formed a flat surface at the 100 meter mark, on which were narrower pyramids bordering a central spire that speared into the sky. It was all made of beige colored stone that seemed to just reflect and radiate the sunlight in a perfect manner to the viewer.

Just looking at it through the visual sensors from on high made me feel serene and peaceful. How much more magnified would that be when I stood on those steps and heard the tinkling of flowing water, surrounded by the sounds of jungle life.

Those ancient Jedi weren’t screwing around when they built the place and it made the knowledge hungry scientist in me want to know just how precisely they did it.

The obvious answer was construction droids and telekinesis, the former for the heavy lifting, cutting and the latter for adding that artistic touch. Just looking at it though, I could tell there was more to it.

I pulled my head out of the clouds, and tapped the sensor tech on the shoulder. “Anything?”

The clone shook his head, “Nothing, commander. No movement down there.”

“This place should have dozens if not hundreds of tourists at this time of year.”

“Then something is wrong down there, commander.”

“Focus on the chapterhouse, they should have a hyper capable shuttle parked somewhere.”

The view on the holoscreen shifted to the central temple. There wasn’t any specific difference between the three visually, but each one was dedicated to a sacred idea of the Jedi Order; knowledge, wisdom and life.

“There it is,” he tapped the screen, showing the nose of the shuttle poking out from under a more recently built awning, designed to shield it from the worst of the elements. “Looks intact, no damage from this angle.”

I stared at the live image, whilst sending my perceptions through the Force and probing the chapterhouse.

“How many Jedi are supposed to be down there?”

“Four, a master and three knights,” I answered Ursa, giving her a sideways glance as she walked to my side. “Yet I do not sense them at all, nor do I sense anyone else. The entire place is deserted.”

“Then there is only one option left. We must walk into this trap.”

I grinned at her approvingly, “Good instincts, captain.”

Ursa scoffed, “They might as well have put up a sign inviting us.”

“The only question that remains is who.” I tapped my comlink. “Zugo, take us down.”

“At once, commander.”

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Merely ten minutes later we were falling out of the Phantom’s deployment bay and into the hot and humid air of Pamorjal. Jetpacks and jetboots flared as we descended at the highest safe speed we could manage.

I would never get tired of the rush of skydiving.

We touched down on the giant paving slabs of the temple exterior after the 300 meter fall and were assaulted by the sights and sounds of the beautiful place. Animals chirping, honking and many other sounds. The rustle of wind through the thick jungle canopy and it also hummed pleasantly through the vast structures of the temple.

Everything was as it should be, but for the utter absence of people.

I gestured to advance and the Blades led the way, with the recon clones following in formation behind us.

Everyone had their weapons tucked into their shoulders and were efficiently scanning their surroundings as we began the long walk up the southernmost temple steps, this was the Temple of Life.

“Whoever did this really knew how to clean up after themselves,” Rex commented in the general frequency. “Not a single blast point, no bodies, no obvious distinctive footprints. Not that you can really leave them on this stone.”

The squads stacked up on either side of the giant stone doors, whilst one of the recon troops worked on the door control panel.

“No good, commander. Internal power is off,” he reported.

“Then it will have to be opened as the ancient Jedi intended in this case,” I declared and reached out with the Force. It took a moment to find the internal mechanisms, which were essentially a larger more primitive form of the locks used at the Coruscant Temple. These locks though didn’t just discriminate for a Force Sensitive. This was built during an era where the Sith were openly active, so it also had kyber crystals that drank in the Force energy the person manipulating the lock had. Any darksider trying this would quickly find themselves experiencing nasty metaphysical feedback.

The giant doors abruptly groaned as they began swiveling open with the ancient mechanisms that required no external power to function.

Inside, the temple was lit mostly with mirrored sunlight. There were modern lights as well as emergency lighting, the latter of which were switched on. The giant main entrance hall was a long stone walkway, flanked with towering statues of Jedi knights on each side. The way they were posed, it was as if each knight was both an honor guard for people entering and judging those who entered.

In the gloomy silence, it was rather unsettling.

There were a number of modern devices, holo displays and attachments to the place that betrayed its purpose as a tourist spot; with plasteel signs in Aurebesh script detailing whatever it was attached to or what purpose a particular area served.

Beyond the entrance hall, we moved into the main body of the temple.

This cavernous room featured more circular motifs. It almost felt like a giant bowl arena, with nearly twelve levels of seating around the edges and a central stage that had numerous pillars that supported the overhead domed ceiling. These pillars were carved with numerous writings in ancient Aurebesh and a number of other written languages.

If this had been any other situation I felt like I could spend months exploring every nook and cranny in this temple, but again… I couldn’t sense anything alive, except for the sporadic insect or small animal that made its home in the temple’s tiny places.

“Everyone go active,” I ordered in annoyance, as I brought the Darksaber to hand and got a mental grip on my own sabers.

After a few tense moments the report came back from everyone, no significant lifesigns or active energy sources detected.

“Commander, should we continue searching here?” Rex asked.

“No, for a thorough search, we’d need to split up into smaller teams. Until I know what or who we’re dealing with, we do not lose sight of each other for a moment. Understood?”

“Yes, commander,” was chorused back to me.

“To the chapterhouse,” I ordered.

We left the Temple of Life without incident and began the long walk past it to the more central Temple of Knowledge, which was where the chapterhouse was based out of.

The first goal was to inspect the shuttle.

The squads surrounded it and formed an outward facing perimeter, allowing Rex and a few of the more tech savvy Blades to get to work on it.

Outwardly, there was nothing wrong on the hull. It was a boxy, generic, folding wing Sienar Fleet Systems shuttle that could comfortably hold twenty people at maximum.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes of work with the on-board computer before the first oddity to reveal itself.

“Got something here, Commander,” Rex held out a datapad. “Last flight was just a few days ago, to Shibric on the Hydian Way. Only problem is that the flight times and fuel usage don’t match up. It should be thirteen hours there and back, but the fuel computer indicates a hyper flight time of more than two days.”

Grief, how I wished for Master Vos or even a future Cal Kestis at least. Some reliable retrocognition would be really handy about now.

I handed the pad back, “Let’s get inside that temple.”

The Temple of Knowledge, while its exterior was practically identical to the other two, had a very different interior layout. It was why the chapterhouse was here, as it was functionally a massive library. It used racks of holocube data storage, much like the Jedi Archives on Coruscant, but on a smaller scale and it was more distributed throughout the various temple rooms. The Jedi stationed here lived in a small west facing wing of the temple, which had been intended for the ancient archivists and librarians.

The massive doors to the temple were not closed.

They were ajar by a thumb width.

I put my hand on it and my prescience began acting like it was in a storm of probability.

I took a step back to clear my head and began signing at the squads.

They quickly stacked on each side of the massive doors.

I embraced the Force and doors were pushed inward and open with a speed that they hadn’t achieved in centuries.

The massive thud and crash as they hit the inner walls heralded our entry into the entrance hall. It was identical to the first temple, though the massive Jedi Knight statues here were wearing more stately robes, rather than armor. Their hooded heads bowed in solemn contemplation of the knowledge they held.

The squads surged forward with weapons raised and began a steady sweep of the hall.

I took the center and walked straight towards the doors that would lead into the inner corridors, rooms and staircases.

Using TK on the mechanisms, these thinner and smaller doors parted and we turned into the corridor and steadily advanced down it.

Every door we passed was opened and the room beyond efficiently cleared and searched as we moved.

We were well into the living quarters of the chapterhouse now and…

“Commander, found a body,” Rex broadcasted over the comlink.

“Share your feed,” I ordered.

A small holoscreen popped on my helmet’s HUD, resolving to show a minimal bedroom that was typical of the Jedi who elected to be assigned to these chapterhouses. It reminded me of a traditional Japanese style - a low bed, soft but not luxurious. The Jedi on it was a male human in a sleeping shift and definitely dead. The human neck wasn’t meant to be at that angle. His closed eyes also meant that he had died in his sleep.

“Rex, zoom in a bit on the neck.”

The view shifted as the clone captain knelt next to the body and looked closer. “No obvious signs of bruising.”

“No, there wouldn’t be. His neck was crushed from the inside with the Force.” Well, that narrowed things down, unless there was a fallen Jedi that the Council hadn’t seen fit to inform the rest of us about, a possibility growing ever more likely as the war continued. “Everyone, Sith Tactics. Blades, Siit Aka. If it’s who I think it is, we’ll also encounter commando droids and maybe even General Durge himself.”

Everyone tensed up but smoothly began their preparations, adding extra grenades to their belts, unlatching vibroblades and even adding vibrobayonet attachments to their rifles. They would also never shoot lethal bolts at any lightsaber wielder but would only be firing stun shots.

We continued, and in the small mess hall found the Jedi Master.

He was an ithorian. “According to records, this should be Master Triiv Los.”

“He didn’t go down easy,” Rex declared.

The entire room was an utter wreck, with numerous scoring from lightsabers and the furniture reduced to debris.

Master Los’ body was in a very sorry state, with not only injuries from a fight, but also indications of torture on his brown skin. Both his legs had been lopped off as well as burns to the body indicating liberal usage of Force Lightning. I was very glad I couldn’t smell the room right now.

“Continue searching,” I ordered, steeling myself and letting go of my anger.

For a further twenty minutes we went room by room, finding more signs of a running lightsaber fight through the hallways.

It was only because of my hyper awareness in the Force and a growing tension among my own troops that I became aware of the slowly awakening power sources… seemingly coming from the walls.

The temple interiors were also made of precisely cut stone, the corridors shaped in an elongated hexagon form. It also occurred to me that the power and air conduits probably ran in typical Corusca fashion, on the lower left or overhead. There were vents every ten meters.

All my lightsabers ignited at once.

I lunged and stabbed them through the wall, targeting the power source.

“Droids in the walls!”

The corridor was abruptly filled with the clattering of BX commando droids that jumped from the vents and from multiple holes that suddenly appeared in the stone ceiling. I didn’t have the time to worry about just how they did that.

Blaster fire filled the corridor and I was parrying the crackling vibroblades of two commando droids, intent on skewering me.

The Darksaber slashed through both droid torsos as I twirled the blade through an infinity loop.

Then sent both my other sabers shooting through the air down the corridor in either direction, where they slashed through the air to aid every trooper that had found themselves caught up in the grip of the bloody droids.

Six slashes later, more blaster shots from clone and Mando and it was over.

“We loose anyone?” I asked.

“No, commander. Just two wounded, 77 and Rel.”

I hurried over, retrieving my sabers. The clones in question were already being aided by their fellow troopers with first aid. One had a nasty slash to his upper right arm that had cut through armor, flesh and almost bone, whilst the other had a blaster wound to the hip that his armor had partially stopped.

“Get them patched and moving as soon as possible,” I ordered.

Ursa had already gotten the troopers to form two walls of guns that pointed in both directions while the medics worked.

“Did you see how they breached, Manda’lor?” she asked.

I carefully reviewed my memory, “The only thing that makes sense is some form of plasma breaching charge that acts much like an instant one shot lightsaber.”

“Rather ingenious.”

Blaster fire erupted as one of our defense lines fired on more incoming commando droids.

The Mandos formed the front lines, and in so doing shielded the clones with their beskar’gam.

The volume of fire was such that the six charging droids were quickly cut down despite their own sturdy armor and agile movement making them difficult targets.

Thankfully it wasn’t long after this that the medics were done and the two wounded clones were back on their feet; bacta bandaged, stimmed and given a decent dose of painkillers.

I took point and led the squads through a route that retraced our steps.

More groups of BX droids kept popping up and attacking. It was like the entire temple had been turned into a droid jack-in-the-box.

My sabers deflected the fire coming my way and I surged forward in a blur of speed, rotating and spinning the blades around me, leaving only glowing pieces of droid in my wake.

“How many commando droids is that now?” Rex asked incredulously over the radio.

“At least fifteen,” Ursa answered.

“Never seen that many in a single op, are the Seppies churning them out faster?”

My sabers blocked three BX droids assaulting me with vibroblades and I let out an omnidirectional Force Push that slammed them away from me into the walls, where they were easily rendered into chunks of glowing metal. “Perhaps, but something we’ll think about later. Do keep up.”

“Not making it easy, commander.”

I was playing vanguard simply because I didn’t want the bloody droids to get into a melee with my squads.

When we reached the main entrance hall of the temple again, we had no choice but to pause before moving out into the giant room.

Flanked by a further 12 BX droids and standing in a supremely unconcerned manner, was the clear, obvious instigator of all this.

“Oh, tsk tsk, do come out little Tano, let’s have a chat,” smirked Assajj Ventress.

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Shabla Jetii - fucking Jedi

chakaar  - scumbag, bastard

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading. Have a good weekend.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 11

For someone who didn’t need to sleep, you’d think my ability to patiently wait for things would’ve gotten a nice boost, especially given recent events.

The problem was, it was one thing to wait when you were doing so on your own direction and initiative, it was a different ballgame when you were waiting on someone else.

Using ‘15 to lean on, I stood on the sidewalk of the department store, staring at the still merrily burning car in the distance. It was rather fascinating to watch and way more interesting than trying to talk to Alabaster, still trapped by the grip and weight of my thralls. The villain still occasionally tried to free himself, testing if any of his mastered gang members were losing their grip on him. It was pointless though, as I had reorganized them so that it wouldn’t need near constant exertion of strength on their part.

I had at first given thought to trying to extinguish the flames. A simple misting into the department store would let me find some fire extinguishers, but by that point the car was a complete write-off and there was nothing nearby that would catch fire. So I let go of the notion to try.

The burning car gave off such strange sounds on occasion. Far from the portrayal in countless movies and shows, it did not blow up in a spectacular fireball at any point. The point where the fuel tank was breached, at best delivered a thump and sudden growth in the flames. It was like a fountain of new flame surged out and climbed a few feet higher in the air, but that was it.

Alabaster, seeing that physical force wasn’t working, next tried to use words to attack and distract me, probably thinking that it would perhaps make my control slip on his gang members. Threatening me with the entire roster of E88 coming after me and that I would now be on their ‘shitlist’. Then he began to throw slurs on the level that I felt I needed to ask Henry if he could whip up some Foundation style amnestics for me.

Of course that triggered my thralls and they began to promptly deliver another round of beatings to the villain, to the point where he reset again.

“Enough!” I snarled.

My thralls stopped immediately.

“No, go ahead,” Alabaster argued with a vicious tone. “Be the race traitor, bitch. Bet you even spread those legs for…”

I pulled him into my mind web before he could finish.

He naturally reset after a few seconds and began to laugh.

“Your little trick…”

I mastered him again.

He reset.

“It…”

Mastered.

So I continued, keeping him from uttering more than a word before I shut him up. It ended up becoming a strange sort of battle. He was testing my patience and I endured it, keeping him at one point from even uttering full words.

“Bi-”... “Cu-” … “F-”

By my phone’s clock it was almost a full eleven minutes of this, before I suddenly heard then saw the famous custom motorcycle Armsmaster used to get around town. The hero himself, with his blue power armor looking somehow even more resplendent and powerful in the overhead street lighting, gunned the throttle to surge into the parking lot with a speed that belonged in the racetrack. Yet he stopped a mere ten feet away on a near dime, shedding his velocity and momentum in a way that clearly showed Tinkertech bullshit was going on.

“Greetings Escort, please step away at least five feet from Alabaster,” he half-requested, half-ordered. The reason for this was a cylindrical grenade, that was already in his right hand and he was readying to throw.

I misted to eight feet away and Armsmaster let fly with the grenade using a simple underhand throw.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I hate this stuff,” grumbled Alabaster.

The grenade burst with a loud thump at the foot of the nearest ganger. The containment foam was a loamy off-white substance that at first had the consistency and viscosity of a liquid, then rapidly just seemed to blossom in a volume that seemed almost impossible. In less than four seconds it had done its job, completely engulfing all the E88 members in the tight clump I was holding them.

I gave it another few seconds just in case, then walked forward again, unable to contain my curiosity.

My finger poked into the foam, which now had a more rubbery feeling, yet it was oddly permeable as well. I could now also see it settling into a multitude of tiny hexagonal shapes, which was only visible because I was so close.

The thumping of heavy armored footsteps drew me out of my examination. Armsmaster’s mouth, visible under his visor, was turned into a friendly, polite smile. “Ah, hello Armsmaster, thanks for coming so quickly.”

“It’s no problem, Escort. Thank you for stepping in. Given what I can see happened here, I’ll make sure the owners are notified that it was your initiative that saved their business.”

“Uh, sure, thanks,” I said slightly awkwardly, feeling my nudity acutely again. Perhaps because of all the cameras and sensors that were festooned within that armor.

“I’ll ask you to please remove any master effects from the perpetrators at this point, so they can be taken in fully understanding of the situation and be read their rights when the PRT van arrives.”

“Oh, of course, that makes sense,” I focused and pushed away all the minds in my web. “Done.”

“Would you feel comfortable answering some questions about the events?”

“Is this for my formal statement?” I asked curiously.

“Correct. After you consent, my armor will record the vocal component of our conversation only, in respect for your privacy.”

Well, given what I had already done in my time as a working girl, embarrassment was something that should’ve been in the past, but all of that had been in my control and on my own terms. I would’ve had no control over the image of my nude body if it went into the Protectorate and PRT database systems.

“Thank you. I consent.”

He nodded, “Recording. Please, in your own words describe the crime and your actions.”

It didn’t take long as there wasn’t much to it.

He did have a few pointed questions about my mastering Alabaster.

“So you were able to affect him?”

“Only for a few seconds at a time, but it was enough to totally disrupt his usual fighting routine. His guns are over there, I had to pick them up though, after I ordered him to disarm.”

“His fingerprints are on file. Do you wish yours to enter our system?”

It wasn’t like I could wear gloves.

“If I said no?”

“Then I would walk over to them and spray the guns with a dissolvent right now,” Armsmaster said instantly.

“I thought law enforcement always loved it when they get freebies like that.”

“You’ll find that the Protectorate is a different beast when it comes to enforcement, Escort. We have to occasionally operate in concert with villains and similar groups during S and A class operations. If it is known that we use any opportunity to break through their masked identities, then we’d see participation in crisis points drop to unacceptable levels. This same courtesy is naturally extended to Independents such as yourself.”

That was somewhat good to know but I didn’t know how much of a difference it’d make in my case anyway. Despite my hair shielding my face, my body wasn’t that much different yet from what I was in the hospital. It was all but certain Armsmaster had only needed one look at me, with no fancy software required, to know who I truly was.

“No fingerprints, please.”

He nodded and walked over to the two pistols lying on the sidewalk. He extended his left hand and from the armored ring finger a small sprayer seemed to mechanically sprout. A hissing heralded a transparent liquid dowsing and misting over the pistols. He turned them around and repeated the process.

“It is known Alabaster has no attachment to his pistols, they’re illegals with no serials or identifying features. It might be that we can link recent murders or shootings to these weapons via their barrel striations, but he is already on the hook for many crimes.”

I nodded in understanding, it was enough then to simply determine Alabaster was responsible for any recent crimes. There was enough proof that would put him away for a long time already.

The revving and clattering of high capacity diesel engines reached my ears and coming into view from the street, an armored PRT van with reinforced, shielded tires turned into the parking lot. Following behind them by a few seconds was a typical red fire truck from the local BBFD.

The truck immediately turned towards the still burning car and parked a safe distance away, before five firemen jumped out and immediately began a well drilled routine of getting their equipment set up and ready to douse the flaming car.

Armsmaster waved over the PRT van, which came to a stop a mere ten feet away.

A squad of six troopers streamed out the back, with a seventh emerging from the passenger side of the forward doors.

PRT troopers had a rather unnerving presence to them. Their helmets combined with a fully opaque face shield completely hid the face of the trooper. Their body armor almost gave them the look of a modern knight, with composite armor and kevlar, overlaid with tactical rigs over their chest and upper legs. Everything was coloured in a midnight black and the only color was the various trooper’s surnames stenciled on their chest and ‘PRT’ on their backs.

PRT troopers main weapon was a rifle version of a containment foam projector, though they did carry pistols on their hips as well. They were also known to carry high power assault rifles using 7.62 caliber, but those would only come out when circumstances required.

“Lieutenant, dissolving agent, bag them all, standard MS evaluation procedure,” Armsmaster ordered.

The PRT trooper in charge of the squad nodded and with a brief salute, turned to direct his men with gestures. I also could vaguely hear that they all had active radios for communication, with little to no residual sound escaping from behind their face masks. From a distance it almost looked like they were all using telepathy.

I had to also give them points for professionalism in that none of them visibly reacted to me whatsoever, but they couldn’t hide their auras. Of the seven, by the time they had set up to begin pulling out the gang members from the foam, five were sporting hidden erections behind the groin shields they were wearing. The two who didn’t were the senior trooper due to his marriage and the last batted for the other team.

They began at one end, using another foam projector, but instead of shooting foam it fired a seemingly clear liquid. My true sight showed it was definitely not water, but an extremely complex material that was embedded in the fluid and basically acted as a molecular key of sorts.

It was no wonder that no villain tinker had yet succeeded in cracking this secret.

The first gang member was completely disoriented and before he could even think of putting up a fight or bolting, he was already in cuffs with a black bag over his head. Two troopers helped the guy to his feet, whilst another began reading the man’s rights to him.

“Is the bag part of MS procedure?” I asked curiously. Armsmaster might’ve tried to hide it via jargon speak, but it was pretty obvious what the acronym stood for.

“Yes, any number of master effects propagate via sight. For safety sake, we wish to evaluate these individuals for any residual effects that your ability might have on them.”

“Yes, I suppose slowly building up a mastered army for myself would be problematic,” I said airly with a shade of sarcasm.

Armsmaster twitched his head to face me in a flash and I spotted his aura becoming very alarmed and paranoid. Just as quickly, the emotion vanished, replaced by relief and… was that a tinge of self-flagellation? It was no coincidence that I also saw his helmet HUD visibly blinking and change at this moment.

“Ah, yes,” he coughed awkwardly. “The Protectorate would prefer you not do that, Escort.”

Did he seriously have some sort of social assistance program running on his local systems?

“Are you sure? Just think, I could have them all marching themselves straight into prison,” I teased. Oh my gosh!… Did I just say that? To Armsmaster? It just… felt nice, and was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“While I appreciate the efficiency of that idea, Escort. I think the local criminal justice system would literally break from the strain.”

When the time came to release Alabaster from the foam, four of the troopers came forward and grabbed each of the villain’s limbs the instant they could. It was just as well, because the bleach white skinned villain immediately began thrashing and making things extra hard for the troopers. They eventually had the E88 villain in a hogtie cuff setup, black bag over his head and bodily carrying him back to the armored van.

The fire department in the meantime had the burning car under control and were steadily throwing petrol burning retardant foam from their hoses.

“Well, this has been interesting to watch, Armsmaster. Do you need anything further from me?” I asked. Mostly because I was starting to see and sense an occasional appreciative glance from the firemen. I didn’t want to distract them from doing their jobs and doing something wrong whilst working with a burning car.

“If you’d be amenable to a meeting at some point, the results of the Master Stranger screenings might interest you.”

It didn’t really, I could see what my power did. It was at this point that I realized Armsmaster would learn a lot by my reaction to his offer.

“I know what I can do, Armsmaster. That being said, I’d be interested if your technology or methods might reveal something new. I’ve recently learned that one must always… keep an open mind.”

“Very well. I will leave you a DM on PHO…”

The Void yawned open.

I tried to contain my flinch with every fiber of my being and was only partially successful.