Chapter Text
Following the rather remarkable comm call with the Warlord Jango Fett and the Jedi who had been sent as sacrifice but ended up - apparently - as lover, the Council was in disarray.
Master Mundi was visibly calm, but his Force presence fluttered happily, much to the annoyance of the neighboring Master Tiin, who let his distrust of the situation filter through his shields. Master Rancisis huffed and grumbled mightily, discomfort and worry clouding the space near the Thisspiasian Master. Beside him, Masters Piell and Yaddle were clearly having a dedicated conversation through the force, but their shields kept said discussion private.
Mace Windu had a headache, and was stuck between Master Yoda, who was loudly decrying the dangers of attachment and emotion, and Master Koon, who was shooting down Yoda’s arguments as fast as he made them. Mace’s former padawan was giving him an understanding look, but Mace couldn’t bring himself to accept that resigned sympathy.
“Enough,” Mace said firmly, loud enough to echo in the acoustics of the Council chambers. “I said we’d take care of it, so we’re going to take care of it. Master Koth, please inform Coruscant Security that we have concerns about a threat to one of our Padawans. It needs to be dated from before we take action. Depa, contact Madame Nu and get the records of the previous calls the Chancellor has made to the Jinn-Kenobi residence.”
“Yes Master,” she said with a nod.
“Master Gallia, can you reach out to our more supportive Senators and spread word unofficially of our concerns?” Plo asked, turning away from Yoda.
“Know nothing, we do!” the small green Master insisted.
“Would you rather we wait until we do know, because one of our children has been wounded to their soul?” Master Piell countered, looking up from his conversation with Yaddle.
Yaddle herself snorted and flicked a wrist, popping Yoda on one long ear with a burst of Force.
“Younglings, we must protect,” she said sternly. “Bad feeling, I have, about this Sheev Palpatine. Rose to power very quickly, he did. Seeks out powerful youngling with much fear in him, he does. See how concerning this is, don’t you?”
“We can’t just unseat the most powerful man in the galaxy at the word of a child!” Master Rancisis said firmly.
Mace’s headache tipped past an ache and into a cool sensation of numbness indicating he needed to lay down before he blacked out. He sighed. “We can handle the fallout later, for now, I suggest we adjourn.”
<X>
It turned out, one could unseat the Chancellor of the Republic on the word of a child, if said child’s guardian was the husband of the Warlord of the Mandalorian Empire.
Adi Gallia wasn’t sure if this was comforting or not, considering the way many arguments had been made against removing Palpatine until they’d been reminded that Obi-Wan Kenobi - the man they themselves had voted to sacrifice to the Mandalorians - was now in fact married to Jango Fett. She feared that if Anakin had any lesser protector, the Senate may not have cared about the monster in their midst. As it was, Kenobi’s report that the Mandalorian Expansion was limited to those planets whose leaders had failed their social contracts got far more leverage than the damning footage from the databanks of the Jedi temple where the now-former Chancellor invited Anakin to the lower levels, saying ‘a Jedi wouldn’t give you this experience’ and licking his lips.
Regardless, the mess was done, and mostly cleaned up. She didn’t know much of Ainlee Teem, but his record was fairly standard. There had been a slight corruption scandal a year ago but it was cleared up quickly as a false accusation. Not before Palpatine had taken the special election, though. It felt too coincidental.
Still, her job was resolved as far as the Senate went. Now though, there was a new issue. Namely, the number of Jedi currently on Mandalore without orders to be there, and the rumbles the Senate was making about needing to get them back before it turned into some sort of war.
Not that she thought that likely, but she did have to admit that two Masters and four Knights was more than they would usually dispatch to anything short of an active warzone, and could be seen as aggressive.
“Master Dooku, please see reason,” Adi pleaded over the com-link she’d finally gotten through. “Your skills are needed here. You went to retrieve Qui-Gon… so complete your mission and return.”
“Unfortunately my former padawan has gotten himself into a trouble he cannot talk himself out of, as I always warned would happen some day,” Dooku said, his voice a deep baritone rumble she could almost call a purr, slow and self-satisfied. “Qui-Gon Jinn has been sentenced to labor by no less than the Mand’alor. (the leader of Mandalore) Removing him before he finishes his sentence would spark tensions where there are none.”
“We don’t leave our people behind,” Adi growled.
“Indeed, which is why I will be here for the next… how long was your sentence again, Padawan-mine?”
“I’m at thirty years,” called the far too cheerful voice of Qui-Gon Jinn from out of the range of the holo-sensors. “Give or take a few. Can you ask Grandmaster Yoda to take care of my plants, please?”
“Ah... about that, Padawan,” Dooku said awkwardly. Then he turned back to Adi. “I’m sorry, Master Gallia, but if you want to negotiate a swifter return of Qui-Gon, you’ll have to come to Mandalore yourself.”
“I just might do that, Yan,” Adi grumbled as the call cut off. “I just karking might.”
<X>
Landing on Mandalore, on a pad outside the Palace of the Mand’alor no less, was a strange experience. Something was softening the edges of his prescience, the ever present tension headache fading away and leaving a calm murmur of the Force that flowed slow and soft over him.
Never the less, it was going to be one of those days, Mace could tell.
He trusted Adi to know what needed to be done politically, and Plo was entirely balanced when he’d volunteered for the mission, the Force singing of the correctness of the choice, but his own inclusion was disconcerting to begin with and now this unnatural softness in the Force had him on edge.
“Cheer up, Master Mace,” Siri Tachi said, leaning away from her Master and into Mace’s arm. “It’s a good thing they invited you. You’re in line for the next Head of the Order after Yoda steps down, so it’ll look even more official when we make an alliance.”
“We aren’t actually going to make an alliance,” Mace pointed out. They’d only gotten approval for the four of them to go, and only to retrieve the Jedi on Mandalore. Except Obi-Wan, who had the dubious honor of counting as both Jedi and Mandalorian.
Warriors in armor gave them an escort to the throne room, which was deep in the building. Rather than the opulently empty hall of most of the rulers Mace had seen, the throne room resembled a cantina. Tables and chairs about the room’s long sides, and the floor sloped slightly up, askance to the ceiling like a natural cavern or old, long-settled building. Their guides took them around the tables, stopping occasionally to mutter to the warriors drinking and gambling as they watched the Jedi with wary eyes. He felt their awareness like a thrum in his feet, a beat of a drum he could not hear.
One stepped up to Siri, and the girl met his gaze with her own glare of fire. Adi moved swiftly to tuck her Padawan under an arm, and Mace stepped into the place the young woman had stood, lifting one brow in question at the armored figure who’d approached.
“You know how to identify a Padawan, yes?” he asked.
“The braid, yeah?” the Mandalorian replied lazily, a gesture at the back of their head indicating the correct placement.
“Indeed,” Mace agreed. “There’s a common saying on the Outer Rim. ‘If you would take the Padawan, first make sure the Master is dead.’ They say this because we protect our young ones. You will leave Padawan Tachi alone.”
"Elek (Yes), Jet-buir (Jedi-Parent),” the Mandalorian said, hands raised in peace, and slipped backwards into the crowd. A crowd which was now running their attention over Mace specifically. It wasn’t quite hostile, but it left him feeling unsettled, unsure if they wanted to fight him or fuck him.
“Please don’t,” Adi muttered as he caught back up, her Force presence in his senses as solid as her body, gesturing where her hands were still. “Just don’t be so... this.”
“You just gestured at all of me,” Mace whispered back. Adi gave him the sensation of a raised brow and stepped forward to start making introductions.
<X>
Yan Dooku had been enjoying a debate of the historical evidence surrounding Revan’s takeover of the Mandalorian system with Jaster when a runner informed them of a shuttle full of Jedi arriving. He did not sigh. He didn’t. The Mand’alor (the leader of Mandalore)was an observant man, and noticed anyways.
“Not looking forward to a visit from aliit (family)?” Jaster asked, tilting his head in the way of a raised brow. Mandalorian body language tended to accommodate for lack of subtler facial cues that would be obscured in armor, even when, as now, the helmet rested on the table in front of them.
“I may have… challenged Master Gallia in our last communication,” Yan admitted. “I didn’t think she would actually come here to collect us like lost Initiates. Although she was rather good friends with Qui-Gon, so perhaps I should have known.”
“You’re strong, you’ll survive,” Jaster said, clapping a hand on Yan’s shoulder. He shifted his posture, straight back and feet firmly planted slightly over shoulder-width apart. It was a minor change, but it turned the ordinary chair into a throne. “Fill me in? I’d ask Ob’ika (Little Obi, a nickname for Obi-Wan) but….”
“But he is occupied,” Yan filled in with a smirk. It was a good thing the very stones of Mandalore were laced with beskar (Mandalorian steel, a Force absorbent material), or Adi wouldn’t have had to worry about Jedi staying here, what with Obi-Wan’s naturally high volume in the Force and his overwhelming joy at his new relationship. Putting that aside, he focused on the figures making the gauntlet of the room, laid out as it was to prevent a direct sight-line to the Mand’alor (the leader of Mandalore)’s table.
“The Kel Dor is Master Plo Koon, a reasonable man, good pilot,” Yan said, trying to decide what would be important to include. “Likes children.”
“He’ll get along well then.”
“The Tholothian woman is Master Adi Gallia,” Yan continued. “Skilled in both negotiation and combat.”
“There’s a difference?” Jaster teased. Then someone made the mistake of trying to size up Padawan Tachi.
“Oh dear,” Yan sighed as Adi and Mace pulled the standard maneuver used when a Padawan got too much attention. Unfortunately, it was only going to make everyone watching want to get Mace into the sparring ring… or their beds, whichever could be arranged. “The one who just gained several admirers is Master Mace Windu. I like him, he’s blunt and has visions.”
“Interesting,” Jaster hummed as Adi finally reached them to start introductions.
Master Dooku, a word? hummed a connection in his mind. Yan curled his shields outwards to touch the mind reaching for his own.
What can I help with Master Koon?
I need to slip away and find the child. I owe him… Plo's thoughts stuttered on a fragment of strong emotion not yet released fully. The Council owes him an apology, but I am willing to give it for all of us.
I can cause a distraction, Yan offered. You want the third door down the hall through the exit under the crossed halberds. Follow that hall to the gardens, I think Anakin is by the fountain again, but you can’t miss him, he’s bright in the Force.
Many thanks, the Kel Dor sent, then gently extracted his mind from the joining.
“Master Gallia,” Yan said with the stern aura of vague disappointment he had grown used to feeling with the Council. “You may find yourself better served to dispense with the niceties.”
“Master Dooku,” she said, eyes burning in a face that was placid as ice. “Not all of us are so blessed with strength as to approach all situations as a hammer to a nail. As I recall you attempted to teach your Padawan once.”
“Indeed, I am sure you are familiar with Qui-Gon’s particular flavor of politics,” Yan said with a slight twitch at his lips that could be a friendly smile, if he let his Force presence retain any warmth. “While I would not recommend that technique - ever, really, but especially in a room of Mando'ade (Mandalorians) - I can assure you that none here have the patience for Senate doublespeak. Not after their most recent... overtures.”
Adi narrowed her eyes at Dooku’s sly snub, and conveniently missed Plo Koon slipping away.