Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
Prologue
The Great Game
The area before the balcony resembled a great canyon to the lone figure looking out over it: instead of the inky blackness of the wild, though, it was a garish light show of skyscrapers, endless speeders and starships, and a well-lit drop into an abyss whose dark bottom danced with faint, distinct flashes. All the figure could think of amidst the bustle, though, was his protégé.
Coruscant. Beings, machines, lights…I don't know how he does it, living and thriving here as he does. Still, it's chaos…and WE of all beings know how effective chaos is at achieving what we crave most. Power. Power out of chaos. Through passion, we gain strength, and through strength, we gain power, but chaos is as sure a path to power as strength is. Come to think of it, maybe that's why he does so well here. Power out of chaos…a sure path for any canny politician. And with the way the galaxy is going right now, chaos will prove most effective indeed.
A familiar presence approached; the figure turned to see his protégé approaching from the darkness of the apartment.
"Master," said the approaching figure.
"Ah, Sidious," the man on the balcony replied.
"Were you spotted?"
"I know this building like a high-end call girl, Sidious. I've been here countless times, as you well know. I could go in and out through the front door, let alone the basement, if I wanted to with no one any the wiser."
Sidious looked at his master, his features impossible to read except for an ever-so-slight scowl. The tall Sith Master remained still on the balcony, indifferently looking right back at his apprentice. Then, he stepped forward and began the meeting in earnest.
"So, how go the proceedings in the Senate?"
"Well, so far. We haven't done anything concrete yet, but we're well on our way. Everyone, of course, wants to strike at the Federation's power. I've made sure their various activities in the Outer Rim have been properly documented and shown to the right Senators, as well as my monarch, of course."
"How is she taking all of this?"
"She's a 14-year old girl, Master. She's foolish, ignorant, and headstrong."
"And she's also new. She's not a known quantity: at least Varuna showed his true colors long ago. In addition to this, she's utterly fearless. She may be young and foolish, but don't underestimate her."
"No matter. I have her ear, and I can lead her round like a pet animal. She hangs on my every word, and the worse matters become the more intently she will listen. She supports an aggressive response, and that support will only grow with my counseling."
"If that's your expert opinion, then. Just know that I will hold you to that."
"Yes, Master," Sidious said in a disturbingly icy tone.
"What about the other side? How is Gunray?"
"He's fit to be tied already, Master. I've made sure that between media leaks and Senate discussions, both he and Senator Dodd know just enough of the proceedings to fuel their fury. Whatever we push through the Senate, it will leave him frothing at the mouth. He won't think twice about a violent response."
"Good. That's exactly what we need. What about that business with Drenera?"
"Her forces are in motion, Master: they're preparing for action on Alderaan as we speak. Shall we continue to back them, Plagueis?"
"For now."
Sidious briefly paused, his hand to his chin, before continuing.
"And what of our…mutual acquaintance?"
"Let him have his fun. If anything changes, you will be the first to know. That is all."
"Very well, Master."
Sidious returned to the bowels of his apartment as Plagueis turned to look out over the balcony once again, taking in the Coruscant scenery one last time before departing.
Power from chaos: an excellent lesson indeed. And plenty of chaos we shall have in the days to come!
The next day…
Palpatine thumbed the "ANSWER" button on his wildly ringing holocom unit, and a ghostly image of his sovereign came up: dressed in her elaborate court robes.
"Your Majesty," he said, smiling with practiced ease.
"Senator Palpatine," the Queen said, her image flickering. "How are things proceeding on Coruscant?"
"Quite roughly, I'm afraid, Your Majesty. The Federation doesn't know anything concrete yet, but they already suspect that the Senate will make some sort of drastic move in the coming weeks. They're already quite agitated, and once we formally announce our plans, they will become even more hostile."
"We must do this, Senator; one way or the other. The Federation's aggression cannot go unanswered, especially when our own planet is now potentially threatened."
"And it will not, Your Majesty: we have many Senators who will support us. Your Majesty will have a hand in this matter as well: we can discuss our course of action further when you arrive with the delegation."
"Whatever we do, we will make many enemies: have our trainees arrived yet?"
"They're due by the end of the week, Your Majesty."
"Good. See that they train well: they may not be merely training for much longer."
"Well, I certainly hope it won't come to that, Your Majesty. In any instance, though, they'll have the most thorough training credits can buy. They will be ready for any menace: any at all."
"Good. I'll hold you to that, Senator. That is all."
The hologram faded as Palpatine reclined in his chair, thinking through the ongoing events as Coruscant continued to whirl by through his window.
Good. She's swallowed the entire thing, and now it's merely a matter of making sure she says and does the right things at the right times. Panaka and his lackeys don't concern me: I only wish he and the Queen hadn't insisted on training with the Jedi. Still, beggars can't be choosers: as long as it distracts everyone. In fact, I think I may send…HIM in, just to mix things up a little. Put Panaka and everyone else on edge: they do train for a reason, after all. And now that I'm considering it, those Jedi may yet prove useful to solve my...other ongoing problem.
Palpatine swiveled to look out the window. The traffic flew past, unaware, as he thought of the future.
Whatever happens, our Grand Plan will succeed: when the dust settles, the Sith will once more rule the galaxy!
As his endgame played before his mind's eye, Palpatine couldn't help but smile.
Chapter Text
Act I
Ice
Chapter 1
Reflections
" You loved Tahl," Obi-Wan said. "You broke the rule. And now you're asking me to give up something that you took for yourself. What were you and Tahl thinking when you pledged your love?"
" Yes, Qui-Gon," Yoda said. "Interested I am in your answer as well."
A trickle of sweat crawled down Qui-Gon's brow: nothing had prepared him to answer this question, a question he swore he would never confront since the day she died. He thought before he spoke, terrified that merely speaking her name would cause him to break completely.
" It was a confused time," he said, half-stammering the words. "We barely had time to acknowledge what we felt before she was kidnapped."
" An answer, that is not," Yoda replied, his brow furrowing.
Damn, he has me…I need a better response!
" What were we thinking?" Qui-Gon said, passing a hand over his forehead to sell the effect and hide his sweating. "That we would find a way. That we were Jedi, and we would be apart much of the time. Yet we wouldn't deny the feeling."
" You would break the rule," Obi-Wan said, his voice thick with desperation. "You would have kept it secret."
Qui-Gon gathered himself in the brief moment he had, trying not to focus on Obi-Wan's anguished expression.
I'm about to break him, for his own sake…and I feel rotten doing it. And sadly, he's still correct.
" No. I don't think either of us wanted that. I think we felt that we would work something out somehow."
" The same way I feel now!" Obi-Wan cried, his composure finally collapsing. Qui-Gon sat down next to him, not allowing himself to feel Obi-Wan's pain.
This is for the best: he needs to hear this, as much as he doesn't want to.
" Here is the difference between us. I did not get a chance to examine my decision. To see its pitfalls and its faults."
Come on, keep going…don't think about her!
" I do not know what would have happened if Tahl had lived. We might have decided to put our great love aside. We might have left the Jedi Order. I do not know. I will never know."
That's it, keep going. Don't think about what you're saying. Think about what he needs to hear: the wisdom he needs at his age. Don't think about everything you did…everything HE saw you do after she died.
" And I live with the heartbreak of losing her."
THAT much is true, at least.
" But I am living, Obi-Wan. I am continuing to walk the Jedi path. What I'm saying to you is that once in a great while we have a chance to look at our lives and make a choice that will define us. You have that choice. It is ahead of you. Do not make it in haste. Use your head as well as your heart. Remember that you have chosen a life that includes personal sacrifice. This is the greatest sacrifice you can give."
Qui-Gon finished, drawing breath at last and doing his utmost not to focus on Obi-Wan. He put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, closed his eyes, and then opened them to see the inside of a hospital; a heart monitor weakly beeping along in the background. Before him, to his horror, lay Tahl: the love of his life, on her deathbed, with his hand on her shoulder.
" Tahl," he said. "Can you hear me?"
She didn't respond: he reached for her, putting his other hand to her cheek.
" Tahl?"
Come on, wake up! Maybe this time, I can save you!
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked right at him: rather than a smile, though, her lips formed a cross frown.
" Qui-Gon."
" Tahl…"
"I sincerely hope I meant something to you."
" Tahl, I said what I had to say…"
" You did. You did indeed."
She closed her eyes, and the monitor flatlined. Qui-Gon began to panic as the shrill tone drowned out all in the room.
No, no, no…come on!
He put his hands to her chest and began pushing up and down, attempting to revive her.
Come on, come on, don't die…
She did not respond: he continued, tears beginning to flow as he realized he could not save her.
Don't die! Don't! Don't…
Qui-Gon's eyes shot open: to his relief, the peaceful morning sounds of the forests of Ragoon VI continued on around him.
The same nightmare, again.
For the past several days, the same nightmare had plagued him: he started out seven years earlier, in the Council Chamber, speaking to Yoda and Obi-Wan about Obi-Wan's brief, mutual infatuation with Siri. The conversation replayed itself in every detail: his denunciation of Tahl, of the love of his life, as difficult to witness in a dream as it was to say in the moment. Then, it changed to her deathbed, two years before that: every time, he thought he could save her; every time, she denounced him; every time, she died as he impotently tried to keep her alive.
What's causing this, though? Why is she plaguing me now, after all this time?
Since Obi-Wan's arduous mission to Kokeem the previous year, the galaxy had been in nearly endless upheaval, and both he and Qui-Gon had been at the center of it. The Eriadu Trade Summit, meant to placate the aggressive, militaristic Trade Federation, came under attack by a radical anti-Trade Federation organization known as the Nebula Front, and he and Obi-Wan found themselves hunting the Front at the Federation's behest. They failed: the summit was an unmitigated disaster, the terrorists hijacking a security droid and using it to massacre the attendees. The incident had weakened the political status of the summit's broker, Supreme Chancellor Valorum – some were now saying fatally. Then came yet another crisis: the rise of a deadly criminal organization, the Black Heth, who dealt in lightsaber-resistant cortosis weaponry and armor. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon hunted them, hunted their backers, the Jin'ha, and even rescued Council members Eeth Koth and Plo Koon from their clutches. As it turned out, the Federation had a hand in the Jin'ha's doings as well. Soon, the plot only thickened as yet another Council member, Adi Gallia went missing while investigating reports of a new starfighter under construction for the Federation. Yet another mission followed, but Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon managed to rescue Adi and escape. Finally, after so many months of chaos, Qui-Gon had managed to arrange for a meditative retreat here, on Ragoon VI. And it was then that this nightmare began haunting him: night after night after endless night, tormenting him as he thought of the events almost a decade ago.
I said what I had to: Yoda couldn't know what happened between Tahl and myself, and Obi-Wan was young and infatuated and in need of a stern talking-to. I told both of them what they needed to hear, and in the process I disavowed Tahl. Looking back on it, I know I didn't mean what I said about her, even if I had every justification to say it in the moment. Obi-Wan was there: he saw everything, saw me chase down her murderer. I remember before that mission, how I still couldn't sleep, how she still haunted me. Maybe that's part of why I disavowed her: maybe seeing Obi-Wan fall in love touched a raw wound.
Qui-Gon stood up and stretched; ready to resort to his oldest of tactics to relieve stress.
It's time for a walk.
" Even now. Even now you're teaching me acceptance, just at the moment I don't want to hear about it."
" Siri…"
" Wait." She pulled away from him and backed up. "Here is another thing you know about me – I don't like to drag things out. So let's make a pact. There's only one way this is going to work. We have to forget it ever happened."
" Forget?" Obi-Wan looked at her, incredulous. "I can't forget!"
And I haven't: haven't you been paying attention the last two years? I know I have: much more than I ever would want to!
She continued without hesitation: Obi-Wan was trapped in his own body, unable to do anything but watch as it reacted to the events so long ago that he now remembered all too vividly.
"Well, you just have to," Siri insisted. "You have to push it down. You have to bury it. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. But I am going to do it. I am not going to think of you or wonder if we did the right thing. There will be no special looks exchanged when we see each other. You will never mention what happened between us again. We will be comrades when we meet. Comrades only. I am not going to look back, not once." She stamped her foot, as if stamping the memory into the ground. Obi-Wan started at the sound, wincing as though she had struck him.
And how deeply she imprinted that memory indeed…
And you will never remind me," she continued. "Not by a word or a look. Promise me."
It's too late for that, Siri!
The scene continued; Obi-Wan watching helplessly as it played out.
" Siri, I…"
" Promise me!"
Against his will, Obi-Wan swallowed.
" I promise," came the words from his mouth.
Her face softened for an instant: at the time, he knew it was the last time he would see her look at him that way.
If I only knew…if she only knew…
" And I hope," she said, a catch in her voice, "that we don't meet for a long, long time."
At least she was granted that wish. And yet when it happened again, we headed right back to where we began…
He felt the longing, the loss, the sadness all over again: he stepped towards her, only to see her recoil.
" No. It starts now. May the Force be with you…"
Obi-Wan snapped awake, letting out a gasp as the film reel in his mind's eye finally ended. Ever since his arrival, it had been the same: the same replay of his break-up with Siri: a break-up that now seemed so hollow and useless in light of the past year's events, as he so helplessly knew during the vision. He and Siri had reconnected two years ago, their old flame burning brightly despite their best efforts to bury it. Then, a year ago, an odd mission turned into a prolonged, messy ordeal: a trip to retrieve an ancient Sith artifact on a war-torn planet had seen Obi-Wan and Siri marooned there and believed dead. While the Jedi Order continued on, thought them dead, even buried them, they found themselves forced to rely on each other in the face of a tenuous alliance with a rebel faction and the reappearance of Mandalorian terrorist Vistro Torsun, whom Obi-Wan had thought dead for several years. The vendetta with Torsun had nearly consumed Obi-Wan: it was a brutal saga of captivity, torture, suffering and tit-for-tat violence that ended with Torsun's disembowelment inside an ancient Sith tomb. Above all, though, Obi-Wan had bonded with Siri in ways he never thought possible: ways he now dreaded as they made he and Siri's forbidden feelings impossible to deny any longer.
Never remind you, eh? Oh, how utterly stupid it all seems now!
He caught himself; forced himself to defend his and Siri's mutual decision.
No. A Jedi does not deal in the past: he does not second-guess himself. We did the right thing seven years ago.
A familiar Force presence and the rustling of twigs came from behind: it was Qui-Gon, out taking a stroll. Obi-Wan rose to his feet and sighed.
Good. He and I can discuss something, anything, to get my mind off of Siri.
"Master," Obi-Wan said.
"Ah, Obi-Wan. Good morning," Qui-Gon replied. "I'm sorry to disturb you: I was just going for a stroll."
Obi-Wan walked to Qui-Gon's side, and the two continued out along the path, winding through the forest until the sound of a waterfall added itself to the quiet patter of life going on around them. They exited the treeline; before them rose a ledge, looking out over a vast waterfall stretching down to a crystal-clear lake surrounded by gentle slopes teeming with perfectly spaced pine trees. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and immersed his senses in the Living Force from this vast world below. As he opened his eyes, Qui-Gon finally spoke to him.
"I'm glad we could make time to be here, Obi-Wan. It's been a long, merciless year for both of us: we needed this break."
"I told you, Master, we had plenty of time," replied Obi-Wan. "With the galaxy being as chaotic as it is, we must be there for it."
As he looked out over the cliff, a fleeting look of deep sadness crossed Qui-Gon's face: it was there for a split-second, and then vanished as he spoke, but Obi-Wan would have noticed it anywhere.
"It seems there is always time when you are young, but you cannot hold a moment, Padawan: it runs out like water in your fist. You must seize it when you can, even as it falls away."
I shouldn't have said that, Obi-Wan thought as he grimaced. Did I remind him of Tahl? Of his own love, long ago?
"I'm sorry, Master…I shouldn't have spoken so hastily."
Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, his expression difficult to read.
"I accept your apology, Obi-Wan. But in times like these, rest is the best thing we can have. We've been busy, both of us, over this past year. And busier still we will be: the Trade Federation's aggression only becomes worse every day."
"I know, Master: at least the Senate's trying to rein them in."
"To their credit, they are, but I fear it will only drive the Federation to even more extreme measures."
Qui-Gon paused, briefly looked out over the cliff, and then turned back to Obi-Wan.
"The galaxy is becoming more and more dangerous, Obi-Wan: you and I both know that. Not long from now, you will appreciate the peace and quiet of days like today; back when you could still enjoy such luxuries."
Obi-Wan couldn't respond. His mind turned to the impending, tremendous, dreaded moment he knew was not far off: the Trials.
I'm at that age now, and I can sense that Qui-Gon feels he has fewer and fewer things to teach me. Cere Junda took hers after Kokeem…I wonder what incident will finally push me into the Trials?
Qui-Gon's commlink rang, breaking the atmosphere of the forest. A pang of dread hit Obi-Wan as Qui-Gon keyed the device.
"What is it?" Qui-Gon asked. An indiscernible voice came from the other end, and Qui-Gon's expression turned grave.
"I understand. We'll be there as soon as we can."
Qui-Gon hung up the commlink and turned to Obi-Wan, his expression still troubled.
"That was Master Windu…we're cutting our time here short, I'm afraid."
"What does he need, Master?"
"He didn't give me any specifics: he just told me it's something to do with the Naboo."
A chill ran down Obi-Wan's spine as he pondered what this latest threat might be.
Has the Federation finally snapped? Are the Naboo planning some sort of preemptive action? Or are they planning some drastic move in the Senate? Or is this something else entirely? Perhaps something more innocuous, or more sinister still! Well, in any case, this holiday is over: once more into the breach, then!
Notes:
The nightmare sequences in this chapter are excerpts from Jude Watson's Secrets of the Jedi. I included these for proper context only, as many younger fans reading this would not be familiar with the Watsonverse. I did tweak some of its descriptions to fit my personal style, as well as adding Qui-Gon's and Obi-Wan's internal monologues and the segment with Tahl. The exchange between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon towards the end of the chapter is my interpretation of a brief segment from Watson's Jedi Quest: The Trail of the Jedi in which Obi-Wan, while training Anakin, reflects on a training mission with Qui-Gon just prior to the events of The Phantom Menace. Qui-Gon's line, "It seems there is always time when you are young..." is taken verbatim from The Trail of the Jedi, but the rest of the scene is my invention. In any case, all credit for that borrowed material goes to Jude Watson: no infringement is intended.
Chapter 3: Days in the Life
Chapter Text
Chapter 2
Days in the Life
Obi-Wan descended the shuttle's ramp into a blast of cold morning air: the sky was a dull grey, warning of an impending rainstorm. His feet splashed against sole-high puddles as he continued alongside Qui-Gon towards the Temple.
One of Coruscant's rare storms, and it doesn't look like the weather will relent.
A Temple sentinel stood at the landing plaform's door; he stepped forward as Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon approached.
"Sir," he said to Qui-Gon. "Council Chamber immediately."
"Council Chamber?"
"Yes, sir. Direct orders from Master Windu, sir."
"Very well, then," said Qui-Gon, passing through the door as Obi-Wan followed with a sinking feeling in his gut.
Why have we been summoned here?
By now, the Council Chamber's windows were coated in a light, growing layer of water droplets: the traffic outside was sparse. The Council's members all sat slouched in their seats, their expressions more tired than usual. Obi-Wan fought the urge to gulp as Qui-Gon spoke.
"I understand we were recalled from our tracking exercise on Ragoon VI. What happened?"
"Politics, unfortunately," said Mace Windu, raising his eyebrows.
"Politics?"
"Yes. Before I say anything, I must remind both of you that this conversation is confidential, and its contents will not be communicated to the wider public until the Council says so. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," said Qui-Gon.
"Yes, Master Windu," said Obi-Wan, nervously bowing.
Mace cleared his throat, and then continued.
"I trust that both of you have at least some familiarity with the ongoing situation in the Outer Rim."
"You mean the Trade Federation, Master Windu?" asked Qui-Gon.
"Yes, Master Jinn. Over the past decade, this organization has become an increasingly aggressive, rapacious entity. It viciously exploits those peoples and worlds it does control: those it does not, it absorbs through intrigue or armed force. Countless worlds in the Outer Rim, far outside the Republic's reach and crippled by corruption and civil war, have fallen to their campaigns of conquest. For the past few years, they have been embroiled in a seemingly endless series of small wars; either conquering new worlds or putting down rebellions against their rule. And now, they grow bolder: they seek the resources of the Mid Rim, including worlds under our jurisdiction. The situation grows worse by the day, and the catastrophic failure of the Eriadu Trade Summit several months ago has only worsened the tensions. In light of all this, the Senate has finally decided to take action."
"What kind of action, Master Windu? We all know the Judicials are no match for the Federation's navy…"
"Not military action, Qui-Gon. Economic action."
"Economic?"
"Since its inception, the Trade Federation's one goal above all has been money, and how to make it. Roughly a century ago, the Senate created a number of Free Trade Zones in the Outer and Mid Rims: these areas allowed trade without tariffs, to incentivize economic activity. These zones became a tremendous source of income for the Trade Federation, until they were abolished several months ago, after the tragedy on Eriadu. Their abolition hamstrung the Federation's ability to sustain any sort of war, and the Federation has spent the past several months attempting to overturn the Senate's decision. The Naboo, under their newly crowned queen, were particularly vocal in their support for ending the Free Trade Zones, and will do anything to see them remain gone. In addition to this, the Naboo are the Federation's greatest supplier of plasma: their planet is rich in it. It's used in a variety of energy-related applications, but most importantly it is used to power military equipment: in particular, starships. The Federation's great fleet runs in no small part on Naboo plasma, as do its armies. Without it, their tanks and ships would lie dormant after only a year, if that."
By now, Qui-Gon's expression had turned grave; the sinking feeling in Obi-Wan's stomach had also grown.
I don't like where this is going.
"And all of this means what, Master Windu?" Qui-Gon asked.
"The Senate is holding a major hearing on the Federation's demands regarding the Free Trade Zones in the coming weeks. One of its primary sponsors is Senator Palpatine of Naboo. In addition to this, the Council has seen evidence indicating that Naboo may use this hearing to formally drop out of its trade agreements and impose a plasma embargo on the Federation."
"What? Master Windu, this is an extremely provocative course of action…"
"I know. And so do they: that's why you and your Padawan are here. The Royal Naboo Security Forces are sending some of their personnel here, to train with the Jedi. You and your Padawan are to be part of that training. You will participate in a number of exercises with them, honing their skills so they might respond effectively should current events lead to war."
Qui-Gon's expression was grimmer than ever, but his gaze never left Mace's. After several seconds' silence, he responded.
"When will they be here?"
"Tomorrow morning, at 0800. You and your Padawan are to meet with them on Platform 11."
Qui-Gon paused again, and then replied.
"I understand, Master Windu," he said, bowing. Obi-Wan followed suit as his silent dread reached a fevered pitch.
Qui-Gon was right…I should have savored Ragoon VI while I could.
The following morning…
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep…
Siri Tachi's eyes fluttered open at the scratchy tone of her alarm clock: with a groan, she rolled over and hit the "snooze" button. The tone ceased, and she rolled back onto her pillow, taking in her surroundings. The clock read "0630" in stark, red letters; an aura of brownish-grey light shone through her curtains, with the gentle patter of rain as a backdrop.
Rain…so relaxing…I just want to lay here and listen…
In what seemed like seconds, the alarm clock woke her again: she pressed the "snooze" button again, sat up, and began to process her day as she stretched and yawned.
Master Adi said…what did she say, again? Wait…the Naboo…they'll be here at 0800. I need to freshen up before they get here.
Siri rubbed her eyes, and then climbed out of bed and made a beeline for the shower.
With any luck, I'll be done just in time for some muja and coffee.
The rain against the window formed a pleasant backdrop of white noise as Siri sat cuddled next to it, reading a book and occasionally looking out the window for any sign of the Naboo.
Conveniently, our dorm overlooks Platform 11: when our guests show up, we'll know immediately.
The door slid open behind her: Adi entered, holding a tablet under her arm.
"Master," Siri said, before reaching for what remained of her coffee.
"Siri. I trust you slept well," Adi replied as she took a seat and turned back to the tablet.
"It's 0759, Master. The Naboo should be here in less than a minute," Siri said with a glance to her watch. Adi didn't say anything: she only looked up at Siri, a slight, proud smile on her face. Siri briefly smiled back before movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention: a shuttle maneuvered for a landing on the platform, touching down right as the clock struck eight.
Whoever their head honcho is, he's punctual.
The ramp lowered, and two men clad in military-issue rain gear left the shuttle. Two other figures in Jedi robes approached to meet them: Siri's breath hitched as she realized who one of them was.
Obi-Wan. They brought him in on this?
The mission to Kokeem a year earlier had stretched her and Obi-Wan's reemerging friendship to the limit: old feelings continued to blossom, old enemies returned to torment them, and old secrets came to the surface. Much to Siri's shock, she learned that Obi-Wan had been in some sort of romantic relationship with Mandalorian noblewoman Satine Kryze just several years earlier. That revelation came on a nightmarish evening inside a Kokeemi torture chamber, from a psychotic ex-terrorist that had sworn revenge after Obi-Wan left him for dead.
Vistro Torsun. And he wasn't the only one who had a vendetta there.
Siri had watched Obi-Wan struggle with the task of facing his old enemy, and the burning, forbidden desire for vengeance it brought. She had her own secret as well: she fell in love with Talyon Horn, a gallant young guerilla leader she came to befriend over the weeks on Kokeem. On the eve of the war's end, the two consummated their relationship in a night of passion: shortly afterwards, Torsun gunned him down inside an ancient Sith tomb as Siri watched in horror. She would have given anything to kill Torsun herself, but Obi-Wan beat her to it. And in the midst of all this, the two had raised a Force-sensitive Kokeemi war orphan named Cal Kestis. Upon their return, both gave him to the Temple's crèche in a tearful goodbye, and then tried to resume their lives. She had made a point of avoiding Obi-Wan in the months since: after he and Qui-Gon rescued Adi from a gang of Bartokk assassins just a few months ago, she only appeared to give Obi-Wan a cursory thanks before a few long, painful hours of meditation.
After everything that's transpired, I think it's best if we stay away from each other…we both came too close over those weeks, so far from the Jedi. I don't need more of this, not when the galaxy's going to hell in a handbasket.
Her mind went back to earlier in the week, when she inexplicably had a dream of their emotional breakup seven years ago. Strangely, the whole thing felt like a nightmare: she was trapped in her body, unable to prevent herself from going through the motions of that day even though she somehow wanted not to; to stay in his arms instead and take in his presence. And still, everything happened as she remembered it, and she was unable to do anything even as she questioned why she wanted to change her actions.
Don't. You can't go there. You're doing the right thing: you know you are.
She let herself look at Obi-Wan a moment longer; then, admonishing herself, she stood up and turned to Adi.
"I'm ready, Master. Let's go see what the Naboo are up to."
Two men approached Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon from the shuttle; both were human, one dark-skinned with a light-skinned one behind him and to his left. Both wore identical ponchos over their uniforms, with tight, clear plastic covers over their peaked caps to further keep out the rain. They halted roughly a meter away, and the dark-skinned man stepped forward.
"Good morning," he said to Qui-Gon.
"Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Qui-Gon replied. "And this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"Captain Panaka, Royal Naboo Security Force," the dark-skinned man said as Obi-Wan bowed. "And this is Captain Kael. Let's get inside: we're all going to drown if we stay out here."
Three Naboo officers stood in one of the Temple's briefing rooms: Panaka, Kael, and another man Panaka had introduced as Ric Olié. Around them stood Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Masters Windu and Koon, and to Obi-Wan's discomfort, Adi and Siri. Obi-Wan had avoided Siri's gaze the whole time: he knew she was doing the same.
We haven't seen each other since Qui-Gon and I rescued Adi, and that was ever so brief: we've otherwise avoided each other since Kokeem.
Panaka briefly examined the crowd now gathered around him, and then began speaking.
"As all of you are likely aware, the RNSF has sent a detachment here to train with the Jedi Order in preparation for the coming arrival of our delegates to the upcoming conference in the Senate. I am in overall command: Captain Kael will handle the ground-based training. In addition to this, Commander Olié has brought three pilots with him from Bravo Flight: the Queen's personal airborne bodyguard. Bravo Flight has recently taken delivery of the new N-1 starfighter, and will put it to the test in aggressor training against a select group of Jedi pilots."
"Masters Koon and Gallia, you will be in charge of the airborne portion of this training," said Mace as he stepped forward. "Padawan Tachi, you will participate in these exercises as well."
"Yes, Master Windu," Siri said.
"Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, you will participate in the ground-based exercises," Mace continued. "You will have other Jedi working with you as well, in addition to the rest of Captain Kael's men on the Naboo side. The exact schedule and nature of the excercises will be discussed later. Likewise, Master Koon and the air contingent will meet the rest of Bravo Flight's pilots later. Master Koon, you will also have several other members of the Jedi Starfighter Corps aiding you and Master Gallia: they will meet with you later today."
"Yes, Master Windu," replied Master Koon.
Panaka stepped forward as Mace finished.
"For the sake of OPSEC, the RNSF contingent will be staying here at the Jedi Temple," he said.
"I have your quarters set aside, Captain. I'll show your subordinates later," said Mace.
"See that you do, Master Windu," Panaka replied. "Kael, Olié, with me: let's get everyone else inside."
The Naboo left as Obi-Wan looked to Siri briefly: she watched the three men as they left, and then followed Adi out of the room. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the two exited.
Good. Let's stay focused on the task at hand, not each other.
Shortly afterwards…
Siri entered the Temple's hangar with Adi, Master Koon, and her old flight instructor Master Thoob beside her: Master Saesee Tiin led the way, with Master Koon's Padawan right behind him.
Bultar…that reminds me: she, Darsha, and myself planned on going to the movies tonight. Here's hoping we won't be stuck here instead.
Ric Olié stood at the edge of the runway with three other humans, dressed in RNSF uniforms: a man of roughly thirty with a gaunt face, a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, and a cocky-looking younger man not much older than Siri. Olié stepped forward as he saw the Jedi approaching and gestured for his fellows to follow him.
"Ah, Master Tiin. Meet my subordinates."
"Lieutenant Essara Till," said the dark-haired woman. "Pleased to meet you, Master Tiin."
"Lieutenant Lutin Hollis," said the man with the gaunt face as he shook Master Tiin's hand.
"Junior Lieutenant Gavin Sykes, sir," said the younger man, shaking Master Tiin's hand with considerably more vigor than his counterparts. Essara pursed her lips ever so slightly at the gesture.
He's confident, that's for sure. Something tells me it'll be fun to cut him down to size.
"They're all coming off of fleet tours now, Master Tiin," said Olié. "They're headed for instructor billets once they're done here: everything you teach them, they will pass on to the next generation of Naboo's fighter pilots."
"Then we'll teach them well, Commander," said Master Tiin. "We'll start with some classroom instruction: after a few days, we'll acquaint ourselves with our machines and get in the air. Follow me, everyone."
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon followed Captain Kael into a nearby briefing room, where two familiar faces awaited: Jaro Tapal and Master Nod Yelphis, standing before a seated group of RNSF officers.
"Attention on deck!" said Captain Kael. The RNSF officers stood to attention without hesitation, the sound of their boots against the floor echoing in unison.
"Captain Kael," said Master Yelphis as he stepped forward. "Master Nod Yelphis; this is my Padawan, Jaro Tapal."
"Captain Kael," said Jaro, bowing. Kael nodded in response, and then turned to his men.
"Parade…rest," said Captain Kael. The RNSF officers assumed the position of parade rest as Kael addressed them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, meet Master Nod Yelphis of the Jedi Order, and his apprentice Jaro Tapal. And this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn, with his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Over the coming weeks, all of you here will be working with them in a series of training exercises. Take these seriously: treat them as if your lives depends on them, because they do. These Jedi will be training alongside us: they may operate with us in the event of a real crisis. Observe them closely, and remember whatever lessons they teach you. That is all. Report here in exactly one hour, with your duffel bags packed; we'll be shown to our quarters. Fall out!"
As he exited the briefing room, Obi-Wan saw Jaro finish speaking to Master Yelphis. He approached, and Jaro turned with a growing smile on his face.
"Jaro!"
"Obi-Wan," he said, as Obi-Wan shook his hand and gave him a vigorous slap on the back.
"I haven't seen you in months…how was Corellia?"
"Interesting…their Security Forces are a handful, though. Bunch of maniacs…we were supposed to be training them, and we could barely keep up as it was!"
"When did you return?"
"A week or two ago: we barely got a break. At least we're closer to home now."
"Well, it's good to see you again, in any case."
"Likewise, Obi-Wan."
That evening…
"Your drinks, ladies."
The bartender slapped down three drinks and then turned to another customer, leaving Siri Tachi, Bultar Swan, and Darsha Assant to their ongoing conversation while they waited at the cinema's bar.
What a day, thought Siri as she paused to take a sip. Whole lot of classroom lectures. I've learned more about the Trade Defense Force in the past eight hours than I have in the past eight years. At least I was able to make it here.
"So, you were saying, Siri," said Darsha.
"Anyway, after we got back from Kokeem, Master Adi and I got sent to Kuat. Kuat Systems Engineering wanted our input on the Delta-6: they were gathering data on its combat performance so they could upgrade it. Although from the stuff they asked me, I think they're just going to build something new," said Siri, immediately taking a swig of her whiskey before the memories of Kokeem returned.
"Wow! Meet anyone interesting?" Darsha asked.
"Yeah. Walex Blissex, one of the their top engineers. He designed the Delta-6 about ten years ago: that's what launched his career. Guy's smart as a whip: I can't imagine doing half the things he does. Master Adi and I got a look at some of the design and manufacturing facilities: it's just amazing."
"That's swell…hey, you're from there, aren't you?" asked Darsha, looking across to Bultar.
"It's just a name on a map," said Bultar, shrugging her shoulders. "The Jedi Order has always been home for me, not Kuat. Besides, I heard it's terribly boring: you either work for the shipbuilding industry or provide for those that do. Very one-note, if you ask me."
"Hm. I can see that…still, I think every Jedi should visit where she's originally from," replied Darsha. "Just once, in her lifetime: I think it would provide some useful perspective. Especially somewhere as influential as Alderaan."
"Well, that's your opinion, then," said Bultar. "Siri, what do you think?"
"Me?" Siri said, putting her glass down mid-drink.
"Yes. What do you think?"
"Well, I don't even know where I came from, originally. I can't really answer that…"
"You can answer on the principle of the thing, at least," Bultar replied, her gaze never leaving Siri's.
And I just came here for a relaxing night out…
A noise caught Siri's attention: it was a news broadcast on the bar's holoscreen, a red "BREAKING NEWS" scrolling beneath it.
"And now an update on the situation in the Outer Rim," said the newscaster before the bland backdrop cut to footage of a formation of Trade Federation warships over a planet. All three Padawans dropped the conversation and turned to the screen as the broadcast continued.
"Trade Federation forces yesterday seized the last rebel stronghold on…"
As the newscaster continued, the image changed to footage of Neimoidian marines marching past a burning farm; next, they stood atop a hill, raising their arms and shouting in triumph as the Trade Federation's banner flew from the barrels of several rifles. The newscaster continued his monologue as the image changed yet again to footage of droid bombers releasing their payloads, followed by a scene of explosions tearing apart a small village. Siri clenched her jaw as the scenes continued to play out before her eyes: finally, the newscaster's words came back into focus.
"…Federation officials claimed the rebels were pirates involved in several recent attacks on Federation shipping. In recent years, however, many have criticized the Federation for its accusations of piracy, claiming that this is merely a ploy to justify military action against those that oppose its rule. Senator Lott Dod made a statement earlier today regarding the Trade Federation's actions, in response to criticism on the Senate floor."
The footage changed to Lott Dod, standing in a Senatorial pod as all looked on in the background.
"For centuries, the humanocentric Core treated the Outer Rim as it saw fit: robbing our worlds and leaving us at the mercy of criminals and pirates. No more: the Trade Federation of Planets shall fulfill its purpose. Under our rule, there will be a new flourishing for all of the Outer Rim: we shall provide leadership to guide the great masses of these impoverished lands…"
That's a funny way of saying, "subjugate by force of arms."
A series of hisses and boos rang out, growing in intensity as Dod continued without pause: Chancellor Valorum's booming voice called for "ORDER," and the footage returned to the newscaster and his bland room.
"In other news…" he began as the holoscreen changed to a grav-ball match.
"Sorry about that," said the bartender, looking apologetically to Siri and the others. "I hope I didn't…"
"We're fine," Siri replied, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Siri, Darsha," said Bultar. Look on the board: we start in ten minutes."
Without another word, the three left their chairs and headed for their theater. Siri took a deep breath as she wished she had ordered another drink.
Just relax…you're supposed to enjoy the night out. From everything you've seen, it doesn't look like you'll get another break like this for a very long time.
One week later…
"Senth-1 reporting, at least two armed contacts present, Side 2, level 1. Over."
"TOC to Senth-1, roger. Keep eyes on contacts: your ROE are unchanged. Out."
Obi-Wan tensed as he awaited Panaka's next transmission. Around him, the men of the RNSF entry team stacked up at the door remained utterly silent; the only activity was a man's occasional twitch or flex of his fingers, and the silent, tense breathing of all. Then, Panaka spoke one last time.
"TOC to entry team, you are go for entry. I say again, you are go for entry. Out."
Captain Kael, standing nearest the door, gestured for one of his fellows to step forward. The man stepped up, placed an explosive charge on the door, and stepped back, taking the detonator in hand.
"Fire in the hole," he said as he extended his fingers to count. On three, he squeezed the detonator, and the door disappeared into a spray of shredded wood. Kael threw in a flashbang; it burst, and the entry team burst into the room with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon in tow. Inside the room, a man wearing body armor and carrying a blaster rifle staggered around, stunned by the sudden violence of the entry team's arrival: they shouted for him to drop the blaster and get on the ground. He barely made it to his knees before one man shoved him fully to the floor and handcuffed him. The arresting RNSF man kicked away the rifle before going to it and clearing it, while another man shouted, "CLEAR" before dropping a lightstick.
"Stack up," said Kael, pointing to another door. The team stacked up and checked its lock: one man announced that it was unlocked. Kael stepped up, a tubular camera in hand, and placed its tiny head underneath the door. After several seconds, he looked up at the others.
"Two contacts, both armed. Bang and clear," he said. With a nod, another man opened the door and threw in a flashbang. A man shouted in the other room, and a blaster bolt flew through the open door a second before the flashbang detonated. The team burst into the room, shouting at the suspects to surrender: one man complied, but his fellow raised his blaster and began firing blindly as he staggered for another door. His shots went wide: the team answered them with a savage flurry of blaster bolts that tore him apart. He fell lifelessly to the floor as one of Kael's men handcuffed the lone survivor.
"Entry team to TOC," said Kael over his radio. "Two suspects in custody: one suspect killed. Over."
"Roger, entry team," replied Panaka. "Two suspects in custody, one dead: continue on. TOC out."
Kael waved the group towards another door: again they stacked up, and again another man readied a flashbang; this time, though, Obi-Wan felt an uncanny sense of dread.
Something's not right here…
The man on the door opened it; the flashbang thrower reared back; a distinctive thump emanated from behind the door; a grenade burst amidst the group; Obi-Wan coughed and sputtered as he wiped flour from his face.
Damn it! Damn it to hell!
Sighs and curses went out from the various RNSF men as they wiped the dummy grenade's flour from their clothes. Panaka appeared on one of the catwalks, leaning on the railing and running his eyes over the entry team like a disappointed father.
"There was an enemy grenadier behind the door: you're all dead. You have your optiwand for a reason: use it! You would have seen him otherwise! All of you, head outside: we're doing this again."
Meanwhile…
Siri glanced to her left, confirming she was still in formation with Adi and Master Tiin. The flight was quite the departure from the usual Jedi sortie: the three Delta-6s were arranged in the staggered three-ship "vee" used by Trade Federation droid fighters, and even painted in the distinctive, spider-esque brown used by the Federation's starfighter corps.
Dissimilar air combat training: DACT, for short. I've spent the past week going over this with Master Tiin and the others: everything we're doing with the Naboo is meant to emulate the Trade Federation's tactics. I've learned more about their droid starfighters in the past week than I have in the past decade…I didn't know the Greenies put so much time and effort into programming their cheap droids.
Siri glanced down at her watch: it was less than a minute until the engagement itself was due to begin. She went over Master Tiin's lectures in her mind, remembering the unfamiliar flight tactics she was to emulate.
The TDF's droid fighters don't go out in four-ship formations, like we do. They use a staggered three-ship formation: Numbers 2 and 3 are at slightly different altitudes than Number 1. It looks ragged, sloppy, even, but it's actually designed so that if anybody is attacked, the other two can jump on the attacker in an instant.
Something flashed in her peripheral vision: spots of light against polished metal signaled the presence of a flight of N-1s.
That chromium nose…it looks nice, but it's a great way to get spotted.
She glanced down to her kneeboard, quickly taking in the notes she had scribbled in the ready room earlier that morning.
We're TOMAHAWK…there's three of us, against the four of them, callsign OYSTER. Master Tiin, TOMAHAWK 1-1, will give the order to engage: we're in a neutral situation, at the same altitude as OYSTER, heading straight at them. We merge with OYSTER, and then Master Tiin gives the order to engage. What happens next is up to us.
Master Tiin's drawl echoed through Siri's headset: her gaze remained on the gleam of the N-1s as they became distinctive shapes in the distance.
"TOMAHAWK 1-1, to flight. TOMAHAWK will merge with OYSTER, and engage. Wait for my command. I say again, TOMAHAWK and OYSTER Flights will merge, and then the engagement will begin on my command."
"TOMAHAWK 1-2, roger," said Adi.
"TOMAHAWK 1-3, roger," said Siri as she thumbed the talk button. The N-1s were distinct, now: their shiny noses and bright yellow livery marking them out against the deserted backdrop of space inside the restricted sector above Coruscant that the Jedi Order used for its starfighter training exercises. Siri smiled as memories of days gone by in this quiet chunk of orbit played in her mind.
This is where all Jedi do flight training, from the most basic level to the most advanced. I spend more time out here than most, doing all sorts of fancy things, but I can't ever forget that I started here.
The N-1s sped towards Siri's windscreen: in an instant, their forms came into focus on the left side of her canopy, and then tore by the flight.
That's the merge.
Master Tiin addressed both flights on an open frequency; his orders punctuating Siri's adrenaline dump.
"TOMAHAWK, engage!"
Adi and Siri chimed in, as the flight broke left.
"TOMAHAWK 1-2, engaging!"
"TOMAHAWK 1-3, engaging!"
The Delta-6s set to the pursuit: the N-1s were already turning, attempting to outmaneuver their opponents. Then, two of the formation broke off to the right.
"TOMAHAWK 1-1, to flight. Stick to the left element," said Master Tiin.
"TOMAHAWK 1-2, wilco. TOMAHAWK 1-3, keep an eye on our six."
"TOMAHAWK 1-2, TOMAHAWK 1-3, will comply."
Master Tiin continued to pursue the two N-1s with Adi in tow; Siri scanned the formation's rear, looking for any sign of the second element.
They're going to come at us sometime. My job is to catch them in the act, and give us time to react.
"TOMAHAWK 1-1, guns, guns, guns!"
Master Tiin fired a burst: the training rounds struck the lead N-1, but the fighter stubbornly continued on. As he fired another burst, Siri immediately remembered an old axiom she had heard long ago, from Master Tiin himself.
"Never fixate on a target, young one," he had said. "That is the best time for any of his friends to engage you: when you're trying to hit him."
Siri checked six: the second element now dove on TOMAHAWK from above, their guns roaring to life.
"TOMAHAWK 1-3, bandits at eight o'clock high! Tracking and shooting!"
"TOMAHAWK Flight, break left," said Master Tiin, his voice raising just an octave. The flight snapped to the left as the second element's fire flew harmlessly by. Master Tiin ordered a right break, and the flight snapped back to the right, coming in right behind the second element as they climbed up from below.
It's our turn now.
Master Tiin lined up on the second element's leader: as he squeezed off a burst, though, the wingman barrel rolled to the right, slipping toward's Master Tiin's tail. Siri latched onto him, coaxing the speeding Delta-6 in behind the opportunistic wingman.
"TOMAHAWK 1-1, bandit behind you! TOMAHAWK 1-3 engaging!"
She already had the N-1 in her gunsight as she said this: she thumbed the boresight switch, watched the targeting display light up green, and then held down the trigger.
"TOMAHAWK 1-3, guns, guns, guns!"
A stream of training rounds pummeled the N-1, and it gently turned out of formation, cutting its throttle and engaging its running lights as it pulled out of the fight.
He's done.
"TOMAHAWK 1-3, splash one! 1-1, you're clear."
The Delta-6 suddenly jerked under some sort of impact, as green bolts enveloped the canopy: soon, a red light flashed on Siri's instrument panel, and her gunsight went dead.
Shit.
"TOMAHAWK 1-3, going down," she said, nearly breaking the switch for her running lights as she turned them on and pulled out of formation.
I'm not looking forward to the debriefing.
Later that day…
Jedi and Naboo alike sat in the debriefing room, watching the day's action play out on a holotable while Master Thoob narrated.
"At this point, Junior Lieutenant Sykes barrel-rolled in an attempt to get behind Master Tiin. Padawan Tachi responded swiftly: while Sykes was fixated on Tiin, she shot him down. However, the lead element of OYSTER was maneuvering to re-engage TOMAHAWK while it was busy engaging OYSTER's second element. Commander Olié pulled in behind Padawan Tachi as she finished with Sykes, and subsequently shot her down."
Siri's stomach twisted as all eyes on the room turned to her. Master Thoob, despite the moment, remained his usual calm, professional self.
"This is a reminder to everyone here: ALWAYS keep an eye out behind you, especially when closing for a kill. Otherwise, that kill could very well be your last."
Master Thoob looked at Siri as he finished, his gaze going straight through her. She maintained the outer façade of Jedi stoicism: inside, she felt as vulnerable as ever.
What a mess.
That afternoon…
The endless controlled mayhem of the Coruscant skyline played out before Obi-Wan's eyes as he leaned on the railing, letting his bemusement override his frustration. Although the subsequent runs through the kill house had gone well enough, the morning's first, disastrous exercise still lingered in his mind.
You can only start anything once. And a poor start will easily ruin the entire thing.
A familiar Force presence approached from behind: he shut his eyes and tensed his body.
And it can always get worse.
Siri stepped up to the railing, leaned on it and sighed into the wind. Obi-Wan dared a glance at her: she stared at the skyline, her mouth twisted into a subtle scowl. Obi-Wan turned back to the skyline, able to do nothing else for the moment other than stare, and scowl, along with her.
I can't bring myself to speak to her, not after so long. But I can at least be next to her; reassure her that her bad day will not be spent alone.
Meanwhile…
Palpatine watched as Panaka entered his office: he stood to attention before Palpatine casually told him to sit.
"There's no need to stand on ceremony, Captain," Palpatine said as Panaka sat opposite him.
"If you insist, Senator," Panaka replied, sounding somewhat disappointed.
"So, how has our training program progressed?"
"Very well, Senator. The Jedi are proving to be excellent instructors: we've had a few hiccups along the way, but it's nothing we can't handle."
"Hiccups, Captain?"
"The men…still have a great deal to learn, Senator," Panaka replied, pursing his lips.
"How so?" asked Palpatine.
"They're still getting used to operating in a crisis environment, Senator. Some of them have seen things before, but we've never been in a collective crisis such as the one we now face with the Trade Federation. Operating on that level will take more getting used to. Still, the RNSF is more than up to the task. By the end of our time here, we'll have a force that's more than capable of defending our planet and our interests from any aggressor: you have my word on that."
"I trust your judgment, Captain. In any case, I plan to attend the upcoming boarding exercise next week. Have you spoken to the Jedi about that yet?"
"I have, Senator. They have everything in order on their end. If you're asking me whether our forces will be ready as well, they will. They're making excellent progress: I didn't mean to imply they weren't doing well. They're just learning: we all are, at this point."
"As I said, Captain, I trust your skills, and so does Her Majesty. And both of us look forward to seeing you and your men in action next week."
A glint of nervousness went over Panaka's face for a split second: it was the sort of thing only his closest superiors or subordinates would have recognized.
"We'll be ready, Senator."
Palpatine smiled politely in response, his mind already focused on his dinner plans.
This is just empty administrative prattle: Panaka can deal with whatever problems he's facing now. The true matters of import will begin tonight.
That evening…
A familiar, mighty Force presence knifed towards Palpatine through the throngs inside the restaurant: at its source was his guest for the night, Jedi Master Jorus C'Baoth, pushing through the crowd with a Rodian waiter barely leading the way. The Rodian gestured towards the booth, and Palpatine stood to greet his friend.
"Master C'Baoth," Palpatine said, extending his hand.
"Sheev," he replied, shaking it with characteristic vigor. Both men took their seats as the Rodian passed them menus.
"Can I get you started with anything to drink, gentlemen?"
"A 10-year Stickmus, please," said Palpatine.
"Shaker's, on the rocks," said C'Baoth, never looking up from his menu. The Rodian nodded, and then left as the two men turned to each other.
"Such a pleasure to see you again, Master C'Baoth."
"Likewise. I heard you're busy training your security forces here?"
"Yes, and your fellow Jedi are doing an excellent job of it. How goes the situation on Alderaan? You've only just finished with the Ascendancy Convention…"
"It went well, Sheev. I know Alderaan like the back of my hand: I've been Watchman of that place for years. I could walk into any part of high society there and be greeted by my first name. If anything, you should be the nervous one here: to anybody foolish enough to believe what the HoloNet News says, the Trade Federation is one step away from going to the mattresses with your constituents. And nobody in his right mind goes to the trouble of an extended, all-aspect training course with the Jedi Order unless he's really scared of something."
"You have your arena, Jorus, and I have mine. It's called the Senate. These Neimodians are cowards at heart: they shout and rattle their sabers, but they recoil at the application of true strength. They can hide behind their battleships and droids, but they won't be anything other than a nuisance. Not when they see what my people are capable of."
Jorus raised his eyebrows at the comment, but his reply carried the slightest air of genuine concern.
"Still, if I were you, I would be glad the Senate does business in floating pods: put everyone on benches together, and the way the galaxy's going we'd see fisticuffs by the end of the week."
Palpatine laughed in response; the waiter simultaneously arrived with the drinks, and both men set to their beverages before resuming the conversation.
"On a more serious note, I heard about that…gang you're dealing with on Alderaan," said Palpatine.
Of course, I already know who they are: I help pay their bills. I could read more about them in my own apartment than in the Senate's records.
"The Disciples of Morrigus, you mean?" replied Jorus, snorting in dismissal. "They're just an annoying cult. Some fanatics waiting in vain for the Republic to crumble. They're nothing."
"Well, I've attended a few Senate briefings that suggest otherwise. I'm told they have made credible threats against the new Viceroy: the one you helped negotiate into power. And there was that unpleasantness at Okonomo…"
"It's nothing, Sheev," said Jorus, cutting Palpatine off mid-sentence. "That business on Okonomo was the work of some renegade abomination with a grudge. He has no affiliation with the Morrigians. And the Viceroy gets a death threat or two every week: he's a politician. You of all people know should understand that. You can't please everyone all of the time. And cranks love to send weird stuff to the rich and famous. Whatever he's getting, it's probably just the work of some madman acting on the orders of the voices in his head, telling him that Viceroy Organa is the head of the secret lizard-man cabal running the galaxy. I have the situation well in hand, Sheev."
Despite his words, Jorus' expression was troubled and worried: Palpatine saw right through him, and began to process his course of action.
Alderaan is his domain, and a notoriously proud man such as Jorus will guard it jealously: so much for all the empty-headed Jedi opposition to "arrogance." Still, I at least believe him when he says he thinks there's nothing afoot. He doesn't know what I know, and if he keeps on like this – which he will if left to his own devices – Viceroy Organa will soon meet with a sudden, and violent, end. I would be more than happy to let that sanctimonious fink die, but I have my own interests in mind. And they demand that the Disciples of Morrigus do not succeed in their plan. Jorus needs a pin right in his unsuspecting bottom, and I will ensure he receives just that. If the Jedi working with Panaka are as competent as I suspect, then everything else will fall into place once Jorus receives that pinprick. For now, all I need is some bloodshed, in just the right place.
Palpatine tightened his grip on his glass, and raised it.
"Well, I propose a toast, then," he said, his practiced smile on his lips. "To peace and prosperity in both our endeavors!"
"Well spoken," Jorus replied, vigorously striking his glass against Palpatine's before leaning back and taking a slug of whiskey; a smirk on his features. Palpatine fought the urge to smirk in reply as he took a satisfying gulp of his wine.
Chapter 4: Boarders Away
Chapter Text
Chapter 3
Boarders Away
The crowd of Jedi and RNSF officers sat under dimmed lights as Panaka stood by a holoprojector in the center of the room, Kael and Olié by his side. Obi-Wan focused on the three men, hoping their lecture would drown out Siri's presence as she sat almost directly opposite him. Panaka looked around the room, cleared his throat, and then spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this briefing is now in session. Our exercise for today will be a multi-faceted and highly complex one: one in which there is no room for error. Her Majesty the Queen will be watching via holomonitors, as well as our elected representative, Senator Palpatine. I trust that all of you understand the gravity of what that means."
Panaka paused for effect: a few nodded, but most of the room remained deathly silent. Apparently taking the collective reaction as acknowledgement, he pressed a button on the projector, bringing up an image of a sleek, silver starship.
"Our scenario for today is as follows. Mercenaries from a hostile planetary alliance, codenamed Black, have boarded and captured the Queen's starship, along with Her Majesty and most of her handmaidens. The Naboo government has since requested emergency aid from the Jedi Order. This mixed Jedi-RNSF force, codenamed Blue, will conduct a VBSS operation to rescue the Queen: one of her handmaidens is standing in for her. It will consist of two phases. Phase One will consist of a starfighter sweep to clear away Black's defences: Black has access to a number of starfighters, and is using them to prevent a boarding attempt. Commander Olié will lead a mixed package of RNSF N-1s and Jedi Delta-6s to clear the area around the ship for the boarding parties. Once Black's starfighters have been destroyed, Phase Two will begin, in which Blue will board and secure the Queen's ship. Captain Kael will lead the boarding party: as with Blue's starfighter compliment, the group will include both RNSF officers and Jedi. Blue's starfighters will maintain cover for the boarding party's transports while Captain Kael and the others go aboard and rescue the hostages. The ultimate goal of this exercise is to secure the ship and rescue Her Majesty and her handmaidens. Each of you will be briefed separately by your respective group leaders: Commander Olié and Master Tiin will brief the starfighter complement. Captain Kael and Master Yelphis will brief the boarding party. If you have any questions, ask them once they're done briefing you. I will observe the exercise along with Her Majesty and Senator Palpatine."
Panaka paused again, and then turned to Kael and Olié.
"Group leaders, split off and brief your subordinates."
Siri took a brief swig of coffee as Olié walked to a holoprojector in front of the group of gathered Jedi and RNSF pilots. Olié cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's get this briefing started," he said as all eyes fell upon him. He activated the holoprojector: the images outlined his plan as he spoke.
"We're up against roughly twenty starfighters of various types, flown by Jedi aggressor pilots. There are a few of their CloakShapes here and there, but the majority of the opposition will consist of Morningstars, with some Daggers and Dianogas thrown in. Watch out for the latter: they're slow, but the Dianogas are particularly well-armored and well-shielded. And all told, we'll be fighting slightly outnumbered. Our objective is to destroy any and all enemy starfighters, in order to protect our transports carrying the boarding party. Once the picture is clear, I will notify the boarding party to proceed, and we will maintain CAP until the exercise finishes. We will have an AWACS on station, callsign MAGIC. Our forces are split into two elements. I will command the RNSF contingent, callsign HAMMER: we are one flight of four N-1s. My callsign will be HAMMER 1-1: Lieutenant Till will be HAMMER 1-2. Lieutenant Hollis will be element lead as HAMMER 1-3, and his wingman will be Junior Lieutenant Sykes, HAMMER 1-4. Meanwhile, the Jedi are under Master Tiin's command: Jedi, your flight's callsign will be MAMBA. You'll be flying your usual Delta-6s, split into two flights of four each. Master Tiin, you will be MAMBA 1-1. MAMBA 1-2 will be Master Thoob. MAMBA 1-3 and 1-4 will be Master Gallia and her Padawan, respectively. Master Koon, you are MAMBA 2-1. Your Padawan is MAMBA 2-2. MAMBA 2-3 and 2-4 are…"
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Jaro, and Yelphis stood at the head of a group of roughly a dozen RNSF officers, with Kael standing before the group; his hand on a holoprojector.
"Now that everyone's here, I'll start the briefing. Everybody pay attention: anything you miss here could kill you once you're onboard that ship."
Kael pressed a button, and an image of a sleek, silver starship came up; its hull stripped aside to show its interior as Kael explained the plan.
"We will board right here, near this airlock. We believe the Queen and her entourage are being held somewhere near the bridge: the mercenaries likely have most of their forces concentrated around this area. The mercenaries aren't pushovers: they have armor and commlinks, as well as automatic weapons. Our priority is to make our way to the bridge and rescue any hostages we see, as well as bring order to chaos by arresting or neutralizing the mercenaries. Given the circumstances and the nature of our opposition, our ROE are looser than usual: don't shoot anybody that's clearly surrendering, but don't hesitate to shoot first. Jedi, that goes for you as well: it's kill or be killed, and highly important lives are on the line. In particular, keep an eye out for this young lady."
He pressed another button, and an image appeared above the ship: a portrait of a girl, roughly in her mid-teens, clad in orange robes.
"This is Sabé: one of Her Majesty's handmaidens. She's playing the role of the Queen today. Her Majesty will be offsite, watching the exercise via hololink along with a number of other VIPs. Keep an eye out for Sabé, and make sure she gets out in one piece. She'll have other handmaidens with her as well: look out for the orange robes you see here. That is their uniform. They are also VIPs, and are to be protected at all costs. Once they're secure and all threats are neutralized, this operation will come to an end."
Kael deactivated the holoprojector, and turned to address the RNSF officers.
"We'll split into two teams of four each: I will command the first, Gold Team. Our second team will be Silver Team. Jedi, you'll operate as one team of four, callsign Green Team, with Master Yelphis in charge. We in the RNSF can further split the teams into Red and Blue Elements, each consisting of two officers. You'll run the same setup: Master Yelphis, you and your apprentice will be Green Team's Red Element. Master Jinn, you and your apprentice will be Blue Element. RNSF, our team makeup is as follows…"
Later that day…
"HAMMER 1-1, tally ho! Four Morningstars, 10 o'clock!"
"HAMMER and MAMBA, this is MAGIC. You are cleared to engage, over."
That's Empatojayos, Siri thought as the familiar voice rang out through her headset. I guess Master Yaddle let him tag along as part of this exercise.
"MAGIC, HAMMER 1-1. Roger, HAMMER engaging."
Siri already had the Morningstars in sight as Master Tiin ordered the attack.
"MAMBA, engaging!"
The Morningstars were already firing at Olié and his N-1s as Siri instinctively followed the rest of MAMBA into the fray.
"MAMBA 1-1, guns, guns, guns!"
To her left, Master Tiin's guns blazed to life: the holographic training rounds slammed into one of the Morningstars, and after a long burst it activated its running lights and dove away.
"MAMBA 1-1, splash one Morningstar!"
A warning from the Force and movement in her peripheral vision caught Siri's attention: a flight of Daggers approached from starboard, turning in to pull lead on MAMBA.
"MAMBA 2-2, bandits at 4 o'clock, tracking!"
"MAMBA 1-1 to Second Flight: engage bandits at 4 o'clock. First Flight will assist HAMMER. Over."
"MAMBA 2-1, wilco. Second Flight engaging approaching bandits."
Siri turned with the rest of Second Flight: Empatojayos punctuated the moment in his clinical tone.
"MAGIC, MAMBA and HAMMER, merge."
Thanks, Captain Obvious.
One of the Daggers opened fire: his shots flew wide of Second Flight as Adi announced it.
"MAMBA 2-1, bandits at 3 o'clock, tracking and shooting! Break right!"
Siri snapped to the right with the rest of Second Flight: the Daggers overshot, and Adi called a left break. Now, the Daggers slid into Siri's forward arc as Adi maneuvered behind one of them.
"MAMBA 2-1, guns, guns, guns!"
Adi's cannon flashed to life: the Dagger broke a second too late, and soon he dove away, his running lights on.
"MAMBA 2-1, splash one Dagger!"
A sudden pang of danger from the Force caught Siri's attention: a flight of Dianogas came in from her port quarter, diving towards Adi as she lined up on another Dagger.
"MAMBA 2-1, bandits behind you, tracking!"
"MAMBA 2-2, One is padlocked. Sanitize my six."
"Understood, One."
Siri rolled in behind the Dianogas: she lined up on the flight lead, placing her gunsight's pipper right in the center of his cluster of engines. She pressed the boresight switch, waited, and then gave him a long burst as the "SHOOT" cue appeared on her HUD. The massive fighter shrugged off the blow, though, and soon the pilot began an evasive bank to the left. Then, before anything else could happen, another member of the flight shouted into Siri's headset.
"MAMBA 2-2, break right! Four bandits at your 5 o'clock, high! Tracking and shooting!"
Siri dove to the right as a stream of bolts crossed what would have been her flight path: Adi's voice in her headset added to the chaos as a flight of Morningstars began their pursuit.
"MAMBA 2-2, MAMBA 2-1. Say your status, over."
"MAMBA 2-2 engaged defensive. One kilometer, low."
"Understood, Two. MAMBA 2-1 moving to assist. MAMBA 2-3 and 2-4, support."
"Roger, One. MAMBA 2-3 and 2-4 supporting."
A bolt barely missed Siri's fighter: yet more flashed by her canopy as she began evading.
Come on, guys…
"HAMMER 1-1, guns, guns, guns!"
That's Olié! What's he doing?
A telltale green bolt streaked past Siri: Olié's voice over the radio confirmed her sudden realization.
"HAMMER 1-1, splash one Morningstar!"
Siri pulled up and looked above her: the remaining Morningstars continued to pursue as the N-1s stayed with them; the rest of what looked to be Second Flight diving in from above to catch the Morningstars in a vise. As if in slow motion, the scene became distinct: the Morningstars broke; the N-1s and Delta-6s fired at once as their pilots sounded off; one by one by one, each of the three enemy fighters was enveloped in blaster fire until its running lights came on and it broke off, defeated. Siri leveled off as Second Flight formed up around her, and wiped a drop of sweat from her brow: only now consciously aware of her heavy breathing.
That was close….come on, don't get carried away! Get your head out of the cockpit: there's no time to rest!
The Daggers came back into view, wafting across Siri's canopy towards the left. The Dianogas were behind them, with MAMBA's First Flight in hot pursuit, jockeying for position as the lumbering Dianogas tried to evade.
"HAMMER 1-1, to flight. Tally ho, three Daggers, eleven o'clock: four Dianogas, one o'clock. HAMMER, engage Daggers. MAMBA 2-1, can you take your flight and engage the Dianogas?"
"MAMBA 2-1, affirmative, HAMMER. MAMBA 2-1 to flight, engage Dianogas and keep an eye on HAMMER."
Siri stayed with Adi as Second Flight climbed and then dove down on the Dianogas. Adi lined up on one of the massive fighters; after several seconds, her guns flashed to life.
"MAMBA 2-1, guns, guns, guns!"
The Dianoga broke left as Adi continued to fire; the stream of bolts continued to strike home until the fighter's running lights sprang to life. It dove out of the fight as Adi turned to engage another of the Dianogas. A CloakShape came into Siri's peripheral vision: it lined up on Adi as Siri pressed the talk button on her throttle.
"MAMBA 2-1, bandit behind you! Tracking!"
Adi broke right, leading the CloakShape right in front of Siri. Siri pulled in behind the CloakShape and held her gunsight's pipper on its large fuselage: several seconds passed, and she thumbed the boresight switch and squeezed the trigger.
"MAMBA 2-2, guns, guns, guns!"
The CloakShape broke left as the first bolts struck it. Siri fought the urge to pursue; she watched it pull away as she shifted between her surroundings and Adi to her front.
"MAMBA 2-2 reporting: your six is clear, One."
"Understood, Two. Stay in formation."
"Wilco, One. Two is covering you."
First Flight now came into view, chasing the remaining Dianogas. One by one, they fired; one by one, the Dianogas broke out of formation, their running lights activated. Meanwhile, HAMMER's pilots narrated their engagement with the Daggers; the call of "guns" rang out again and again, followed inevitably by "splash." Then, Olié unexpectedly reported in.
"HAMMER 1-1 to all HAMMER and MAMBA elements, all remaining bandits are retreating! I say again, bandits are bugging out and heading for hyperspace! HAMMER Flight, rejoin formation!"
"MAMBA 1-1, roger. All MAMBA elements, rejoin formation."
Siri stayed with Adi as MAMBA reformed, working her controls without conscious thought. Only as MAMBA rejoined formation and began orbiting did her conscious mind finally begin to function again. She wiped her brow as her legs shook ever so slightly.
We did it. Now, it's up to our boarding party.
From his position within the gathered crowd of RNSF officers, Obi-Wan could see Captain Kael at the head of the crowd, talking on his commlnk.
"Understood," he said, and turned to the group.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the airspace is clear. Prepare to board."
Kael turned to the front as Obi-Wan took a deep breath: the movement of the ship under him the only indication of what the situation was. It continued along, and then abprutly stopped: it turned, and then stopped again, this time with the distinctive hissing and clanking of its docking system operating. The noises subsided and the end of the cabin opened, revealing the hatch of the attached starship's airlock. A deathly silence went over the gathered group as Kael motioned several of his officers forward. One withdrew what looked like a roll of large silver tape from his gear, and placed strips of it along the edges of the hatch.
A flex linear charge, thought Obi-Wan.
He inserted detonators into the explosive strip, stood back, and nodded to Kael. Kael nodded in response, and then turned to the rest of the group.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" he shouted. Obi-Wan took another breath, centering himself; then, a deafening explosion ripped through the compartment. The hatch was now gone, the dust of its violent removal still obscuring the hallway beyond it. An RNSF officer near the opening threw in a flashbang; all looked away as it detonated. Then, the group surged aboard: the Naboo engaging men on the other side of the hallway as the Jedi ignited their lightsabers.
We engaged our low-power settings as part of our mission preparation: it won't feel pleasant for the poor chaps we strike, but they won't suffer any lasting damage.
The mercenaries opposite the group fell after firing a few errant shots: Kael reported their "deaths" as the rest of the group surged forward, deeper into the ship. Obi-Wan followed, the familiar surge of adrenaline coursing through his body as he kept a watchful eye out for any other mercenaries. Then, a neaby door burst open on the team's right flank: a mercenary emerged, leveling a scattergun at the RNSF officers. Obi-Wan was upon him in an instant: he brought his lightsaber down on the man's neck before he could even take aim. The man cried out in pain and then sank to the ground: Kael called in the kill as Obi-Wan took another deep breath.
Steady…everyone needs you now.
The group halted outside a large door, and Captain Kael produced his optiwand.
"This is the entrance to the Queen's chambers," he said. "Everybody stay sharp: our VIPs are in here, along with what's left of the mercenaries."
He knelt down and thrust the optiwand's camera head underneath the door. As they stood next to Kael, Obi-Wan and the other Jedi stared at the optiwand's viewscreen, taking in what lay beyond the door. Several heavily-armed mercenaries milled about inside the room, while several others kept their eyes and muzzles on a series of young women clad in orange robes; the women knelt in a group in the center of the room, blindfolded and with their hands tied tightly behind their backs.
Those are the handmaidens Kael mentioned: now, where is the Queen?
Kael continued to sweep the camera around the room, his expression unreadable. Then, he stood up and addressed the rest of the group in a whisper.
"Eight armed contacts, guarding four hostages. The Queen's not there: she must be somewhere deeper inside the chambers. No explosives: we might harm the hostages. I'm going to open the door: I want a flashbang in there the second it opens. Wait on my command before entering; I will throw in another bang. Then, when I give the signal, we go in and save the hostages. They're handmaidens, so they should be conspicuous. Check. Your. Targets. We're doing well: I don't want this to go sideways at the last minute. You hear?"
Everyone nodded at Kael; he nodded in reply, and then stood, poising his hand on the door controls. One officer readied a flashbang, and nodded to Kael. Kael opened the door, and the man threw the flashbang before the door had even fully opened. One of the mercenaries loudly swore; then, the bang detonated. Kael waited, and then threw in another. It detonated, and he finally shouted "GO" to the eager team. Obi-Wan dashed into the room with the others: some of the mercenaries fell under the RNSF's blaster fire, while others were tackled and handcuffed as they staggered around in their stunned dazes. One man near Yelphis swung his blaster towards the hostages: Yelphis instantly brought his lightsaber down on the mercenary, hitting him with such force that he was knocked to the floor. Yelphis kicked away the man's blaster as he writhed, clutching the spot where the blade had struck him.
"Room clear!" Kael shouted.
The group paused to secure the weapons of the fallen and arrested mercenaries; Kael spoke with Panaka on his commlink, apprising him of the situation as Obi-Wan turned towards a door on the other side of the room. Jaro ran to his side, his gaze also focused on the door.
"She's in there," Obi-Wan said.
"Yeah, I know," replied Jaro.
The rest of the team dashed towards the door, taking up positions alongside it. Kael ran forward with them, and stuck his optiwand beneath the door.
"I can see the Queen; she's in there with one hostile. No breaching charge; open, bang, and clear."
One man prepared to open the door; the other took a flashbang in hand. The two shared a nod: then, the first man opened the door as the second threw his grenade. The device detonated, and the party stormed into the room to see a bound and blindfolded young woman wearing the Queen's robes held at gunpoint by a mercenary.
It's Sabé…or whatever her name was.
The man staggered back with his hostage as the RNSF surrounded him; their blasters trained on his head.
"Don't move! Don't come any closer! I'll kill her!"
The group froze, their muzzles never leaving the hostage-taker. The Force surged around Master Yelphis; his big orange eyes remained stoically locked on the enemy before him. In an instant, he raised his left hand, and a jet of green lightning shot forth from it into the mercenary's head. The man jerked backwards onto the ground, flinging Sabé forward. She careened into Obi-Wan's arms as he hastily grabbed her; her captor now lay on the ground in a daze. He looked up, only for another blast of lightning from Master Yelphis to knock him to the floor; unconscious.
Electric Judgment. I've heard of it, but the Jedi Masters that use it are so rare that I've never seen it used in person.
"So sorry, ma'am," said Obi-Wan sheepishly as he removed Sabe's blindfold. Disturbingly, she smiled slightly as she laid eyes on him.
"No, don't be…thank you."
"I have her, Kenobi," said Kael as he grabbed Sabé from Obi-Wan's arms; Obi-Wan stifled a sigh of relief as Sabé gave him a wistful glance while Kael walked her off.
Damned adolescent girls...
Kael keyed his commlink as he walked off with Sabé.
"TOC, this is entry team," said Kael into his commlink. "One suspect in custody, and the Queen is safe and sound. I say again, we have the Queen."
Kael nodded along as Panaka delivered some inaudible reply; his tense expression softened as he keyed his commlink again.
"Roger, TOC. Entry team standing down."
Kael looked up at the rest of the group as one of his men handcuffed the unconscious mercenary now lying on the floor.
"We're done: all hostiles are neutralized or arrested, and the hostages are secure. TOC told us the exercise is complete: put 'em on safe and let 'em hang. We're done here. Excellent job, everyone."
Finally, the tension left Obi-Wan's body, and he deactivated his lightsaber.
Later…
The Jedi and RNSF personnel involved in the exercise stood mixed with a gathered group of VIPs: various Naboo dignitaries, Senator Palpatine, Captain Panaka, and the Queen herself; her handmaidens now stood around her, silently mingling with the VIPs and other participants. Obi-Wan stood with Qui-Gon, Jaro, and Yelphis while Palpatine and the Queen stood on the opposite side of the room, speaking to the pilots involved in the exercise. As Obi-Wan craned his neck, Siri appeared behind Ric Olié and Saesee Tiin; flanked by a dark-haired woman and a young man in RNSF flight gear. She seemed focused on nothing in particular: she kept her gaze respectfully on Palpatine and the other VIPs as they inaudibly conversed with Olié. Adi stood behind her, exchanging some brief words with the dark-haired woman. Olié shook Palpatine's hand, and then gestured to the Jedi and pilots gathered behind him. Palpatine stepped forward, his politician's smile as prominent as ever while he shook hands with Siri and the others. The Queen said a few words to the dark-haired woman, and then walked over towards Obi-Wan and the entry team. Obi-Wan swiftly pulled back into the crowd, swallowed and stiffened his posture.
Just mind your manners…
She approached Captain Kael first: he bowed in greeting.
"Excellent work, Captain," she said, her girlish voice contorted into something artificially deep and formal.
"Thank you, Your Majesty, but I couldn't have done it without these men and women around me. Our attached Jedi did very well: would Your Majesty care to meet them?"
"Of course, Captain," the Queen replied, before turning to the four Jedi. She spotted Master Yelphis, and approached him as the rest of the Jedi parted.
"I saw your lightning…?"
"Master Nod Yelphis, Your Majesty. We call it 'Electric Judgment."
"Well, you acted effectively in any case."
"I saw the situation, Your Majesty, and I took what I considered the best course of action," said Yelphis, lowering his head. "But I appreciate Your Majesty's compliments."
"And you?" she asked, turning to Obi-Wan.
"Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Your Majesty," Obi-Wan said, glad to avoid stuttering under the sudden query.
"My handmaiden Sabé spoke highly of you: you have my thanks as well."
"I'm grateful for the compliments, Your Majesty," Obi-Wan replied, his cheeks slightly reddening.
Before anything else could happen, Palpatine swaggered over to the Jedi, Panaka by his side.
"Well, I'm sure you've had your fill of compliments for today, gentlemen," he said to the Jedi.
"We appreciate your gratitude, Senator," said Qui-Gon.
"It's well-earned, Master Jedi: with you and your colleagues on our side, I dread to think of what our enemies will face should they challenge us!"
"I sincerely hope it never comes to that, Senator," Qui-Gon replied, his voice immediately taking on a grim tone.
"I trust it won't, Master Jedi. But if it does, we have a fine group of defenders indeed to stand upon our walls. Superbly done, all of you. And you and your men too, Captain Panaka: you've carried yourselves with tremendous professionalism and competence. I'd say you're fit to face any foe."
"Thank you, Senator," replied Panaka, looking uncharacteristically stunned.
"I'll take my leave, then, gentlemen," Palpatine said, bowing, nodding, and shaking more hands before leaving to speak with the RNSF boarding party. Obi-Wan sighed in relief as Qui-Gon spoke to him through their Force bond.
You did well, Obi-Wan. Both on the ship and in here.
Thank you, Master, Obi-Wan replied with another sigh.
That evening…
The safe's palm scanner was familiar: cool and enticing against Palpatine's skin, tempting him with the knowledge encased inside the metal box. Then came whirrs and chirps; then its retinal scanner; then its keypad, and finally its locks disengaged with a metallic clunk. He swung open the safe and reached past various papers and the odd Sith holocron, and withdrew a data stick. He secured the safe, made for his desk, and inserted the stick into his desktop; his file on the Disciples of Morrigus appeared, headed by an image of its leader; a red-skinned female Twi'lek. He read through the file, the well-known information white noise behind his thoughts.
Proserpina Drenera. Force-sensitive, former slave, escaped with the aid of a mysterious lover. I don't know anything about him: I've obviously never spoken to her in person. He may have been a mercenary or other transient of some kind, from what I've heard: possibly Force-sensitive himself. She turned to a life of terrorism after founding her own Sith cult, the Disciples of Morrigus. Plagueis and I financially support her and the group, in exchange for a degree of control over their actions. He seems to think she's useful in some way. I personally find her a nuisance, a useless expense of credits. However, she is now a useful way to deal with my latest problem.
Palpatine continued to scroll through the file: soon, he came to another portrait, this time of the one he truly sought to destroy.
And here he is. "CHESSMAN," we call him. He's the reason for this plan I'm about to set in motion: he's one of Plagueis' allies, and he's also put a great deal of money into the Morrigians' activities.
Another image appeared: Plagueis, as his public persona Hego Damask III, standing next to CHESSMAN.
Plagueis is old, weak, and ripe for destruction at my hands. I've suffered under him long enough: now, with my new apprentice, I will end his life and take my rightful place as Master. But he has other plans: he's obsessed with eternal life, with all his research into midi-clorians. It's clear he doesn't want the Rule of Two to continue any longer: he wants to live eternally, keeping me under his heel and discarding me when he tires of doing so. And he's not doing this alone. He has an ally in CHESSMAN and his own research into the Force. In addition to this, CHESSMAN and Plagueis aren't merely allies: they're quite good friends. And, worst of all, CHESSMAN has delusions of grandeur, and an independent streak to boot. Once Plagueis is gone, CHESSMAN will go his own way, even if that harms my new position or exposes our involvement with him. In short, he's a liability waiting to happen: I don't trust him at all. I need him gone, and Drenera's the easiest way to bring him down. The Jedi I met today seem promising, competent, and professional: for once, I can be thankful for that. They will constitute the unwitting tip of my spear aimed at CHESSMAN's heart. And it all starts tonight, with a few simple words down my chain of command to the Morrigians.
Finally, he reached the end of the file. Palpatine unplugged the data stick, and the glow of the computer screen vanished: the only light in the room now was the blood-red Coruscant sunset. He reclined in his chair and closed his eyes, moving the pieces of his plan around in his mind's eye. As all came to imagined fruition, a smirk steadily formed on his lips.
Time to escalate things.
A few days later…
The small group of cultists watched as the workers alternated back and forth between the mall's loading dock and a utility speeder, monotonously carrying crates to and fro with no idea of what was about to transpire. The lead cultist looked at his watch: only twenty seconds remained until the appointed time. He silently glanced to the others around him: they nodded in acknowledgement. Slowly, the seconds ticked down, and then it came.
1200 precisely. Let us begin our martyrs' errand.
He waved the rest of the group forward: the cultists headed towards the loading dock, watching the employees continue their routine. One spotted them: a fresh-faced youth with tired eyes. The young man halted, and then stepped forward: a slight nervous glint in his eyes.
"Can I help you with…"
The leader produced a pistol and put four bolts into the youth's chest. He staggered back and fell, his eyes wide with surprise. The leader put one last bolt into his head as a scream echoed from his co-worker: a young woman roughly his age. She began running, only for the leader to put three bolts in her back. She fell to the floor of the loading dock, twitching and gasping as the leader walked past: not even stopping as he put another bolt in her head. The leader scanned the loading dock as he continued to advance: no other employees were in sight. He patted down his chest, checking the tools of his murderous mission.
They're good. Make sure the others check as well.
"Check your weapons," he said to his subordinates. For the first time, the group stopped, each man patting his bulging civilian coat. They looked up at their leader, and nodded one by one.
"Let's go. We'll get inside and split up like we planned: we all know where we're supposed to be. We all know what to do then."
From his position in the food court, the leader surveyed the deafening, formless roar of his surroundings: shoppers, sellers, and staff everywhere; men, women, and children of all imaginable species, going about their final day without a care in the world. He took the last bite of his sandwich, savoring his last meal as he subtly tapped the repeating blaster under his long coat.
It's there, and it's primed. Now, for our final checks.
He stood, looking to the places he knew by heart from countless holoimages in his briefing for this day. They were there: his men, standing around. Each of them looked to him: they effortlessly found him amongst the crowd. One by one, they nodded. He nodded back, and put his right hand on the grip of his blaster.
Organa thinks he's safe, that we're just a bunch of useless fools out in the woods. This should get his attention. Show him we mean business! And it'll be the last thing that ever goes through his head before a blaster bolt!
He threw back his coat and raised the blaster, and at once the mall erupted into a cacophony of screaming and gunfire.
Several days later…
Viceroy Bail Organa entered his room, his wife in tow: he sat down on the edge of his bed, too tired to cast off his black robes. His wife sat next to him, leaning on her hands and staring through the wall. Both sat in silence, neither able to muster the strength to move or speak after the day's mourning ceremonies for the dead of the recent terrorist attack. Finally, alone with thoughts that refused to give him rest, Bail spoke.
"All those warnings, Breha...all those warnings, and I did nothing."
"Bail, darling, don't blame yourself..."
"Those were my people: OUR people! First that business at Okonomo, and now this..."
"It's a terrible tragedy, I know. You have no idea how hard it was not to cry when I saw the families in the audience earlier. But this wasn't your fault."
Like hell it wasn't. I could have done something, and I didn't.
Bail stood up and entered the fresher. He turned on his sink and slathered his face with cold water: his dead eyes stared back from the mirror. His racing mind thought of nothing, nothing at all to calm it: Breha entered the fresher and put an arm around him.
"Nothing you do can bring them back, Bail," she said as Bail bowed his head.
"I can't bring them back. But I can avenge them," he said, his mind suddenly, terrifyingly coming into focus.
"This isn't the time for anger, darling..."
"No. Not anger. A plan."
Bail stormed out of the fresher and to his bedside, where an intercom to his secretary rested. He pressed its talk button, ignoring Breha as she stood at the entrance to the fresher, bewildered.
"Yes, sir?" asked the secretary.
"Contact Master C'Baoth. See if he can schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning."
"I'll get it done, sir."
Two days later...
From his seat in the restaurant booth, Palpatine sensed Jorus entering: this time, though, his usually haughty posture was ever so slouched and shrunken.
Good. He's not doing well: my little gambit seems to have worked. As arrogant as he is, he's just like any other Jedi. He can't stand to see the loss of innocent lives, especially those under his guardianship. It will make him more susceptible to my suggestions.
Jorus let a waiter show him to the table, and then sat down: he finally looked up at Palpatine after a few seconds' silence.
"Master C'Baoth," Palpatine said.
"Sheev," Jorus replied, his eyes heavy as they met Palpatine's.
"We've all heard about the horror on Alderaan: my condolences go out to you and the Alderaani people. How shocking and savage it all was…and that chilling statement by the perpetrators, threatening Viceroy Organa!"
"I know, Sheev. We don't need to tread over old ground again. All I want right now is to find the bastards that did this."
"Well, at least they were brazen enough to declare who they were: the Disciples of Morrigus. And now we know they intend to make a serious attempt on Viceroy Organa's life."
"That much is clear," Jorus replied, sighing. "And nothing else is. We know now that the Morrigians are serious about assassinating the Viceroy, but we don't know anything else: they caught us with our pants down. This mall massacre came out of nowhere: we had no idea until the first emergency calls came in. They could be lining up a rifle scope on Organa's skull right now and we wouldn't know anything until his head got blown apart. And if we want to stop that from happening, we need to figure out what's going on, fast."
Good. He seems genuinely worried
"If it's any help, Jorus, I spoke with Viceroy Organa recently. He told me that despite this terrible tragedy, he will continue to go forward with the Great Hunt festivities in the coming weeks. He told me he wouldn't let 'thugs and murderers intimidate' him."
"I know: he told me the same thing. That maniac has no idea what these people are capable of. If you ask me, that's not courage: it's the height of foolishness."
"Exactly. Which is why I think it would be an opportune time for the Morrigians to assassinate him."
"Same here: I tried to convince him to cancel it, but I know he won't. Not with the tone of the response he gave me. And on top of that, he asked for Jedi protection during the whole thing!"
Jorus' voice carried the slightest hint of desperation: now, and having heard even more than he had expected, Palpatine pounced.
"I…did have a suggestion, if you're willing to hear it," he said, putting a forced air of timidity into his voice.
One glance from Jorus said everything: he was willing indeed.
"What is it, Sheev?" he replied.
"Firstly, I myself think Jedi protection would be an excellent idea. But it isn't enough. If the Morrigians are likely to attempt to assassinate Viceroy Organa during the Great Hunt, then I think it would be an excellent time to catch them in the act."
Jorus' eyes narrowed, and a hint of his haughty smirk returned to his lips.
"You mean use Organa as bait? I'm not that stupid, Sheev."
"There's no need to be so crass about it," Palpatine replied, his tone now conciliatory. "This is a chance to foil the would-be assassins and perhaps bring down their organization. Surely it's better to root out the problem than simply keep it at bay and trust that one can keep doing so?"
Jorus stared through Palpatine: the Sith Lord pressed his fingers down on his fork as the moment of decision came. Then, Jorus sat up, the openness returning to his expression.
"Sheev, think about what you're saying here. You're not just talking about VIP protection: you're suggesting a full-blown investigation!"
"Yes, I am," Palpatine replied, matter-of-factly. "And I think the use of a Jedi team would be the only way to accomplish this."
Once again, Jorus stared through Palpatine as the situation came back into doubt. Seconds passed: he did not open his mouth in the slightest. Then, he decided the matter.
"They way you've been talking about it, you sound like you have someone in mind."
Good. I can get the personnel details from Panaka: right now, all I need to know is that the plan will proceed as intended.
"I do indeed, Jorus," Palpatine replied, keeping a straight face despite his satisfaction.
Chapter 5: A Strangely Tranquil Place
Chapter Text
Chapter 4
A Strangely Tranquil Place
"…and that's how the focusing system works, Captain."
Qui-Gon lowered his pointer from the image of the lightsaber as Panaka looked on, his hand to his chin.
"Hmm. Those crystals powering the whole thing: are they interchangeable?" asked Panaka.
Rather than answering, Qui-Gon silently turned to Obi-Wan.
"They're not, actually," Obi-Wan said. "Each crystal must bond with the weapon's user. All of us here have done it as part of training."
"It's part of your training?" Panaka said.
"Yes, Captain. We call it 'The Gathering:' all of us do it, at roughly the age of twelve. I myself did it at thirteen. We go into caves on the planet Ilum, and search: we experience visions from the Force, and overcome physical dangers as well. It's all part of our path to becoming Jedi. Eventually, we find a crystal and recognize it as our own, via the Force: they call to us when we finally reach them. We then use our crystals in any lightsabers we make throughout our lives."
"Does this enhance your ability to handle the weapon, then?"
"It does, Captain. We can sense it via the crystal: simply running your hand over your lightsaber will confirm its presence. And it grants a certain…affinity with the weapon I can't explain. Makes it easier to control: given the weightlessness of its blade, that fact can make all the difference. It's one of the reasons that only Force-users can consistently use lightsabers effectively."
Panaka paused, furrowed his brow, and then looked back up at Obi-Wan.
"Well, that's fascinating. I never considered much of this before: I'm just glad you're the ones that work here."
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon shared a chuckle at the comment. Panaka stood, about to say something, when Master Koon burst into the room.
"Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan," he said as Panaka looked on with a confused expression.
"Master Koon, we were in the middle of a lecture for Captain Panaka," replied Qui-Gon.
"Not anymore," Plo said, cutting Qui-Gon off mid-sentence. "You and your Padawan are needed in the Council Chamber immediately: something's come up."
The turbolift's door swung open, revealing all the Council's members in their seats: all but Adi, who stood in the middle of the room with Siri by her side. Mace briefly looked to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon as they entered, and then moved a wheeled holoprojector to the center of the room with the Force.
"You're all here: good. Now, we can get this briefing started," he said.
"Master Windu," Qui-Gon interjected, "my apprentice and I were in the middle of a training session with Captain Panaka: what is all this about?"
"A new assignment," Mace replied, his eyebrows narrowing. He pressed a button on the projector's remote, and an image of a planet came up.
"You're being sent to Alderaan. As we all know, three weeks ago a major terrorist attack occurred in its capital, Aldera. A group of terrorists belonging to a group calling itself the 'Disciples of Morrigus' attacked a shopping mall with repeating blasters during peak traffic hour, killing over eighty and wounding almost two hundred. All four perpetrators committed suicide using explosive vests upon the arrival of police tactical units: however, the group subsequently released a statement claiming responsibility for the attack, as well as threatening the life of one Bail Prestor Organa, Alderaan's newly-minted Viceroy."
Mace pressed a button, and the image changed to a swarthy, handsome Human male, with perfectly combed hair and a well-trimmed beard.
"Organa became Viceroy roughly a year ago after an extremely tense political standoff between House Organa and House Antilles: the two foremost noble families on Alderaan. That crisis was resolved, thanks to the work of Jedi Master Jorus C'Baoth, Watchman of the Alderaan System. What's more, C'Baoth informed us that the Disciples of Morrigus had in fact made several death threats against Organa in the past, but that Organa dismissed them. In their statement claiming responsibility for the attack, the Disciples of Morrigus said that their actions were, in their words, 'a knock at the door.' Yesterday, C'Baoth requested assistance from the Council: he wants the four of you to go to Alderaan and hunt the Disciples of Morrigus."
"This isn't like Jorus," said Adi. "He always prefers a more…solitary approach. Why is he asking for our help now?"
"Because this is bigger than just foiling an assassination plot, Master Gallia," replied Mace. He briefly looked around the room, and then continued.
"Master C'Baoth has spoken with Viceroy Organa. From what he told me, both of them don't merely want this plot foiled: they want the Morrigians gone. Not just defeated, but uprooted and gone. We are going to hunt them down, and then their backers."
"Their backers, Master Windu?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Yes. I've spent the past several days reading everything the Judicial Department has on them: they're a Sith cult, named after a 'Raskus Morrigus:' a powerful Sith Lord who resided on Yavin IV during its heyday as a Sith stronghold. There are various Sith cults throughout the galaxy, but the Morrigians stand out: not just for their recent act of violence, but their level of sophistication. In all the information we have on them, they consistently have resources beyond their means. That would be bad enough, but there's one final complication that made us resort to sending you: the Viceroy's political positions."
Mace paused again, and then laid down the projector's remote.
"To everyone here, know that what I am about to say is highly sensitive information and will not be repeated outside of this room, under any circumstances. Am I clear?"
Every Jedi in the room nodded: even Yoda. Satisfied, Mace continued.
"The situation with the Trade Federation has reached a dangerous point, and the Naboo have decided to act. I have spoken to Senator Palpatine: he specifically recommended the four of you for this mission, citing your skill in working with his security forces. He has confirmed that he, his monarch, and her government plan to enact a plasma embargo on the Federation during the upcoming Senatorial summit."
The entire room fell silent: Obi-Wan's stomach dropped as Qui-Gon stepped towards Mace.
"Master Windu, what you're talking about: this could mean war."
"Indeed, it could," said Mace, his expression grim. "And the Naboo aren't the only ones involved. Viceroy Organa has been a vocal supporter of these sanctions against the Trade Federation, and by all indications he's likely to openly back the plasma embargo. Considering everything we know about the Disciples of Morrigus, they could very well have Federation backing. It's quite possible that they're a proxy for the Federation to use violence against its political opponents. If they are, all of this will mean war; likely the largest war the Republic has faced since the fall of the Sith. And that's all the more reason why we need ironclad proof of any affiliations, or lack thereof, between the Trade Federation and the Disciples of Morrigus. Go to Alderaan, find the Morrigians, and follow the trail straight to the top. Tear them out at the roots: the eyes of the galaxy are upon us all. May the Force be with you."
Siri tossed her winter robes into her bag as Adi checked the contents of a medical kit. She went to grab a hair dryer as Adi placed the kit into her own bag.
"Is there anything else we need from the water closet?" asked Adi as Siri ducked into the small room.
"No, Master. We're good," replied Siri as she exited and placed the hair dryer in her bag.
"Very well, then. I don't have much else to pack: how are you?"
"Not much either, Master."
Siri took a seat on the couch and briefly perused her datapad as Adi finished loading her bag.
"We're traveling by Consular: we'll have somewhat better accommodations than starfighters, at least," said Adi.
"Nice…I'd rather not have to deal with Master C'Baoth, though," Siri replied.
"Neither would I, Siri," said Adi, sternly. "But mind your manners, and your tongue, nonetheless."
"I will, Master," Siri said, somewhat chastened.
"I know, Siri," said Adi, her expression softening.
"So, where will we be staying, then?"
"At Viceroy Organa's family estate in the mountains, most likely. Master C'Baoth will give us more details after we arrive."
"The mountains?"
"Yes. The Viceroy is about to take part in a traditional hunt in the region: it's a highly important part of Alderaanian culture. Unfortunately, it's also an excellent venue for an assassination attempt."
"Can't they just cancel it, then?"
"No, Siri. Paradoxically, Viceroy Organa must be seen in public in the midst of such threats as he's receiving now, both for the sake of his image and the message it sends to the Trade Federation. He can't be seen cowering behind his own walls when the galactic political situation is so dire: his enemies would take advantage of that. He needs to show strength, and thus he must go through with these ceremonies."
"What do these 'ceremonies' entail, then?"
"A week-long hunt in the mountains, followed by a large parade in Aldera. I don't fully know the details: that's largely Master C'Baoth's domain. He'll brief us upon arrival."
"Sounds like we have our work cut out for us, then," said Siri as she stood up to grab her bag.
"We do indeed, Siri," replied Adi as she closed her bag and slung it. "And we shall rise to the challenge, as we always do."
Obi-Wan snapped his toiletry kit shut and placed it into a pocket on his bag as Qui-Gon folded a set of robes.
"Alderaan…I still can't believe we're working with Jorus C'Baoth," said Obi-Wan as he grabbed a set of robes and began folding them.
"Yes: I'm amazed that pompous ass asked for any help at all. He must be desperate indeed: even then, I don't think he'll be terribly pleasant to be round," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh.
"I agree, Master: we can endure him, nonetheless."
"Yes, Obi-Wan, we can. Pass me the winter robes, please."
"Right away, Master," replied Obi-Wan as he grabbed his and Qui-Gon's winter robes. He passed them to Qui-Gon as Qui-Gon continued.
"We'll be up in the mountains, at Organa's estate. The area is heavily forested: at this time of year, every spot of it will be covered in snow. We're going to need these," he said as he folded the robes.
"Yes…" Obi-Wan said, his voice trailing off as he realized this would be his first joint mission with Siri since Kokeem.
"Is something wrong, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, putting down a tunic.
"No, Master…I'm just thinking about how deep this organization goes. We've only ever run into a Sith cult once, with Murk Lundi: even then, it was an issue of a lone madman, not an organized terrorist group."
"I know…stay alert, Obi-Wan. These people may be fanatics, but we all saw three weeks ago just how dangerous they are."
"I know, Master," replied Obi-Wan.
And how more dangerous yet are their backers? From what Master Windu said, we're not going after them as much as whomever is behind them…what are they capable of? And how much damage will they cause when we bring them down?
One day later...
Obi-Wan followed the group down the Consular's raised ramp, into a blinding light and a stiff breeze. When his eyes adjusted to the bright day outside, an incredible sight appeared. Aldera's skyline jutted into a clear blue sky in the foreground, the speeders passing between the buildings little more than moving specks against the great walls of durasteel and glass. Beyond the city lay a vast mountain range, stretching even higher than the grandest buildings before it: it wound off into the distance, farther than the eye could see. The group stopped at the ramp's end and stared out over the vista: Siri's breath hitched at the sight, and yet there was the briefest glint of dread on her face amidst the wonder.
What's going on in her mind?
In front of the group stood a tall man, clad in Jedi robes. He had a wild, flowing grey beard and brown eyes simmering with focused madness: he could have appeared a barbarian chieftain, but his erect, commanding posture put paid to any appearance of disorderliness. Even the way he looked at the four Jedi now before him conveyed one message: you stand in my presence at my pleasure. I am in command here, and you will damned well know it.
The man stepped forward: he strode towards his visitors, heedless of the world around him. He stopped, paused, and then slowly extended his hand to Adi.
"Master Gallia," he said, his eyes going straight through her.
"Master C'Baoth," Adi replied coolly, shaking his hand.
"I have a speeder waiting. All of you, follow me: I'll let you know what you're stepping into here."
Jorus sat at the edge of the speeder's passenger cabin, looking out at Obi-Wan and the others. The vehicle was a small limousine: it carried just enough space for a small holoscreen and bar. Its windows were armored one-way transparisteel: the brightest light in its cabin came from a small light fixture. In its front, behind a blast shield, sat a plainclothes policeman, taking the speeder through the bustle of Aldera with practiced ease. Jorus himself looked unconcerned; annoyed, even, at the four Jedi.
He's probably wondering why we didn't come to him.
Despite his expression, Jorus dutifully pulled a data stick from a small container and inserted it into a port beneath the holoscreen. The screen blinked to life as he spoke.
"Now, I'm sure I don't need to remind any of you of what happened here recently. Horrific as it was, that massacre is now the least of our worries. Viceroy Organa is our main concern here."
An image came up of a Human male: dark and handsome, clad in the finest menswear money could buy, with a perfectly-groomed beard and rakishly slicked-over black hair.
"The Disciples of Morrigus, the perpetrators of the mall massacre, want him dead. Furthermore, we think we know when they'll try and kill him: the Great Hunt. It started out of practical necessity several thousand years ago, during the Sith occupation of Alderaan in the Great Galactic War, when Alderaanian nobles leading Republic resistance forces in the mountains had to use their talents in hunting for sport to feed themselves and their fellow soldiers. Now, it's purely ceremonial, but it's a tremendously important event for the Alderaanian nobility: traditionally, the Viceroy leads it. It consists of the Viceroy, at the head of a party of nobles, going into a specified area of the Juran Mountains. The hunting party lives there for a week, going from spot to spot and shooting various animals. After that week, they will return home: shortly afterwards, there will be a massive parade in Aldera to conclude the festivities. Before anyone says it might sound prudent to cancel the entire thing, let me say that this is not an option we have. The Viceroy absolutely refuses to cancel the proceedings: he wants to show strength in the face of these terrorists. And as much as I want to argue with him, this is bigger even than the Morrigians. Senator Organa is a leading critic of the Trade Federation, and with the Senate taking more and more drastic steps to curb the Federation's aggression, he can't afford to show any weakness."
"What do we have on the Morrigians, then?" asked Qui-Gon.
"We know who their leader is," replied Jorus as he changed the image on the screen to that of a red-skinned female Twi'lek; clad in light armor and various bits of load-bearing equipment, and brandishing a blaster rifle with a terrifyingly cold expression on her face.
"Her name is Proserpina Drenera: we don't know much about her. She's most likely Force-sensitive to some degree, from what we've heard: she wasn't on our radar at all until the Disciples of Morrigus first appeared. Her whereabouts are unknown: she is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. We don't know much about the cult itself, either: we never took them seriously until now. Exercise extreme caution: these madmen are capable of anything."
"Where are we staying, then?" asked Adi.
"The Organas have a hunting lodge up in the Jurans, not that far from where the Great Hunt takes place. You'll be staying there: it's more a small palace than a lodge. You and your Padawans will have plenty of space."
Qui-Gon opened the door and stepped out of the speeder as Obi-Wan and the others exited behind him. The four stood on a platform anchored precariously over a great cliff; the wind lashed them from every direction. Before them, a great mansion rose from a mountainside: a small catwalk running from the platform to an ornately carved staircase leading to the front door. The group jogged through the freezing wind, off the platform to the door: a large bell sat in a silver fixture next to the frame. Qui-Gon and Adi shared a brief glance, and then Adi rung the bell. Several seconds later, the door opened to reveal an elderly man in a faded, perfectly-pressed tailcoat: he stood as erect as his age-bent midsection would allow.
"May I help you?" he asked.
"We are here on behalf of the Jedi Council. We would like to speak with Viceroy Organa," replied Adi.
"Ah, yes…His Serene Highness is expecting you, madam. Follow me, please."
Obi-Wan looked to Siri: for the first time in months, she met his eyes with her own. After several seconds, she shrugged, and started through the doorway. Obi-Wan nervously gulped, and then continued inside after her.
The Jedi entered a grand sitting room decorated all over with impeccably polished wood fixtures and hunting trophies; a massive, sparkling chandelier provided light, while a roaring fireplace surrounded by polished marble provided warmth, casting flickering shadows onto the gilded wallpaper. Sitting on a massive burgundy velvet couch was Viceroy Organa himself, as smartly dressed as his photograph: he stood as the servant bowed.
"Your visitors here to see you, sir."
"Thank you. You may leave us now."
"Yes, sir," replied the servant; he bowed again, and then left as Organa stepped forward to greet the Jedi.
"Jedi. I'm Viceroy Bail Organa: it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise, Viceroy," said Qui-Gon as he shook Organa's hand. "I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn of the Jedi Order, and this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"Viceroy," Obi-Wan said with a bow. He then shook Organa's hand as Qui-Gon gestured to Adi and Siri.
"And this is Master Adi Gallia of the Jedi Council."
"It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness," said Adi as she exchanged greetings with Organa; he seemed somewhat taken aback by the honorific. "And this is my apprentice, Siri Tachi."
"Your Highness," Siri said.
As he finished shaking hands with Siri, Bail gestured towards the nearby corridor.
"Well, you must all be exhausted after that trip," said Bail, hastily. "Come; I'll have my servants show you to your quarters."
The following morning…
Obi-Wan stood on a sitting room balcony overlooking the Jurans, his coffee cup in hand. His fingernails dug into his palms as he remembered the events of last night: he had yet another nightmare of Kokeem, of the lair of the wicked Vistro Torsun and the shared, terrifying escape with Siri. He closed his eyes and took a swig of the refreshing, warm beverage: then, a familiar Force presence approached from behind.
Siri.
He re-entered the house as Siri appeared from down a hallway, clad in a sleeping robe, with coffee cup in hand. She briefly turned to look out the window, and then abruptly turned away towards the couch. She took a seat, her back to the window, as Obi-Wan followed suit. Obi-Wan sat his half-empty coffee cup down on the table as Siri briefly blew into her own before looking up, blankly, at the wall.
"Siri?" Obi-Wan said, realizing it was his first attempt at conversation with her in months. "Are you well?"
"I'm…fine," she said, avoiding his gaze.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, hoping to cheer her up.
"…No." she replied, after a long pause. Then, she looked up at him.
"Last night…"
"I had one too."
"It's the mountains," she said. "They remind me too much of Kokeem…of everything that happened there…"
Her voice trailed off: he reached for her hand without thinking. His fingers grazed her cool skin: she flinched, and then held still, letting him touch her hand until he could bear it no longer.
Don't. You know you can't, he thought as he pulled away. She looked back to her coffee: after a brief probe with her tongue, she took an enormous gulp of it. He followed suit: as the satisfying last drop hit his mouth, another approaching Force presence sent him to his feet. A moment later, Qui-Gon entered the room. He yawned, and then turned to Obi-Wan and Siri as both stood to greet him.
"Obi-Wan. Siri," he said.
"Master."
"Master Jinn."
Qui-Gon left the two for the balcony: Siri turned away and sat back down as Obi-Wan turned to her.
"I'm going to get another coffee," he said. "Would you like one?"
"Yes," she replied. "I can call the servants…"
"I'll do it."
Obi-Wan rose to his feet and left the room; he breathed a sigh of relief as he left Siri behind.
Later…
Qui-Gon stepped into the study with Adi at his side: Bail sat at his desk, perusing a datapad. He rose as the two entered the study.
"Master Jinn. Master Gallia," he said, gesturing to a pair of chairs before the desk. Adi and Qui-Gon greeted him, and then took their seats as Bail sat back down.
"Before we say anything, let me say that I'm grateful for your assistance, Jedi. If Jorus will vouch for you, then that's good enough for me."
Qui-Gon frowned somewhat; Adi cleared her throat, and Bail pursed his lips before continuing.
"I know he can be arrogant," said Bail apologetically, "but he knows more about high society on this planet than many of its own members do; myself included. With the familiarity he enjoys in many circles, I'm amazed he hasn't simply been elevated to the peerage himself. If he says that you and your apprentices are the right ones for this job, I think he's right. In other words, I trust you: don't give me reason to regret that. I'm gambling with my very life here."
"Gambling?" asked Adi. "Whatever do you mean?"
A wave of dread came over Qui-Gon as Bail paused and cleared his throat.
"I might as well say it: I'm using myself as bait," Bail continued. "Before anyone here asks, I couldn't tell Jorus: he would have shot the entire idea down the minute he caught a hint of it. But I'm not going to see these thugs get away with their crimes against my people. And I'll need your help to see justice done."
The room fell silent: the only movement being the dust falling through the sunlight from the windows.
"I have a plan mapped out: I'm not about to do something this dangerous without an idea of how to survive it," said Bail.
"And what exactly is your plan, Viceroy?" asked Adi, her head askew.
"The Great Hunt," Bail replied. "It's an excellent opportunity for the Morrigians to try and kill me: several excellent opportunities, in fact. And I'm going to give them all of it…only I'll be ready."
"Ready?" asked Qui-Gon, half-horrified and half-intrigued.
"Your apprentices," Bail said. "I'm going to bring them with my hunting party."
"And what about us, then?"
"Hear me out, both of you. I can't send all of you with the party. It may be a trap, but it can't look like one. I need just enough Jedi support to make it seem like I'm simply taking precautions, not setting an ambush. I've made enough of a public spectacle of this hunt and the details of it – including these new security arrangements – that the Morrigians will come for me. Sending all of you into those woods would only alert the Morrigians that I am hunting them, not the other way around. The two of you will have to remain here: this is in the hands of your apprentices."
"Has he gone mad, Qui-Gon?"
"I know it's a risky plan, Adi. But I don't see a better way of dealing with these terrorists."
Adi and Qui-Gon stood in Qui-Gon's room: Adi leaned against a chest of drawers while Qui-Gon paced back and forth, trying in vain to hide his unease.
"You mean it's high-risk, high-reward," said Adi, pointedly staring through Qui-Gon.
"In all honesty, yes," Qui-Gon replied.
"It's bad enough he wants to risk his own life after that unpleasantness on Okonomo…and now he wants to throw our Padawans into the fray…"
"I know, Adi. And I would have packed all of us up and left this planet the minute I heard him speak if I thought this wouldn't work."
Adi hesitated for a moment, and then sat down on the bed.
"It's not just the plan," Qui-Gon continued. "Our Padawans can handle this: indeed, they must."
"What do you mean?"
"They're at that age now, Adi. At any moment, we could send either of them to the Trials. Neither you nor I know when that moment is, but we both know it draws near. One day, both of us will have to let them go and make their own way in the galaxy."
Qui-Gon stared out the window over the darkening mountain vista: he thought back to the conversation he had with Obi-Wan on Ragoon VI.
Like water running through your fist…how time flies indeed. And how futile are our attempts to stop it from moving on!
sciencefictionfan on Chapter 3 Sun 13 Apr 2025 07:22AM UTC
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