The Force Wills - Chapter 87 (Patreon)

The endless soothing sound of waves crashing and rushing up a beach.

Sunshine from two suns, moderated by both distance and atmosphere.

The pleasant warm tingling of it on every inch of my skin that wasn’t covered by the Hapan sling microkini.

Lying back on a wooden deck chair in a sheltered spot on the small resort island on Dac, with no one besides Anakin and Padme - who were busy enjoying a beach on the other side - and Chewie exploring the forested interior.

The Force sang to me on this island of pristine beauty.

Bliss.

After dealing with seemingly non-stop crises, battles and worries since the emergence from Mortis, it was a wonder to just… stop and relax.

The gift was given to us by King Lee-Char, who ordered the island resort opened for our sole use for a full week.

That there actually were such islands was a pleasant surprise but obvious in retrospect. Dac had land but they were all pearl-like strands of islands and archipelagos, which accounted for barely two percent of the surface. The Mon Calamari developed them primarily as holiday destinations for landwalkers, but always built around the islands to keep them as untouched as possible for the benefit of the very rare land and air fauna that had evolved on the planet.

I pulled the lever on my chair, carefully lowering it to a flat position and turned around onto my stomach for the suns to catch my back.

Bliss again.

Made even more so by the fact that Master Koon had chased the CIS completely out of the system with their tail between their legs. The Providence carrier had escaped by the skin of its teeth, with enough damage that would see it in drydock for months and only half a squadron of Munificents in tow. The rest of the CIS fleet, destroyed or disabled. It would take months to clean up the orbital spaces of the Mon Cala system.

I focused and banished all thoughts of the war.

“Relax, Ashoka,” I muttered aloud to myself.

Bliss.

Five minutes of tanning later I turned around, pulled up the backrest of the chair and let my front catch some rays again.

Out of a nearby bag I pulled out a pair of sunglasses that pinched my nose to stay in place and a datapad.

My mind promptly fell into the novel by a local writer Mhashe Grugra.

In a galaxy where space travel was routine and the wonders of the cosmos readily accessible, there wasn’t something you could readily define as ‘science fiction.’ The closest you got was stories that featured adventures to neighboring and distant galaxies. Mon Cala being on the north-eastern edge of the Corusca Galaxy, with its own telescopes being able to see the vast infinite cosmos in that direction, often inspired local writers into fantastical exogalactic adventures and fiction.

Grugra was the foremost writer of such exogalactic fiction on Mon Cala and his imagination was truly something special to read.

Exotic races based on fantastical elements, some even existing beyond four dimensional space, he even imagined beings who lived entirely in hyperspace.

The latter had some basis in fact, as the space dwelling whale-like lifeforms called purrgils could actually use hyperspace to travel between stars in migratory patterns. They could be a navigational hazard, but their migratory patterns were well documented over thousands of years of observation and navicomputers were programmed to avoid them.

It was nevertheless a fun and enjoyable read; following a group of Republic scientists who had magically stumbled upon an economical and practical method of hyperspace travel through the vast empty void between galaxies. It was a one-way trip and most of the story centered around finding a way to recreate the conditions in the new galaxy and essentially building a ‘hyperbridge’ back to the Corusca galaxy.

Naturally, the locals didn’t like that idea and opposed the scientists, in both peaceful and violent manner depending on the race.

Given that a Mon Calamari was the author, he always found ways to resolve these conflicts through some cleverness, trick or outwitting the ‘bad guys’ and very rarely was a blaster ever fired in defense by the Republic scientists. The story only briefly mentioned a Mon Cala Jedi Master from the Explorer Corps that had joined the expedition, who had been killed during the events which led to the expedition leaving the galaxy.

I really didn’t know how to feel about that. I could already imagine many scenarios where having a Jedi along would’ve helped in the story, but that was probably the point the author was trying to make. It almost reminded me of the Foundation series from Isamov.

My chrono chirped a one hour alarm.

From my bag I pulled out a bottle of Mon Cala made sunscreen to reapply a new layer. Unlike those I remembered from my previous life, these worked perfectly and were tailored to the specific radiation that the local suns released. You could stay indefinitely outside as long as you remembered to renew the application.

I was halfway through the book by the time my stomach told me it was time for lunch.

I gathered all my things into the bag and began the lazy eight hundred meter walk along  the beach back towards the holiday cabins that were erected on stilts out on the nearby calm sea.

The beach sand wriggled and crunched between my toes and I adjusted my walk to let the waves constantly lap at my feet in their constant back and forth motion, cooling them down nicely.

I reached the boardwalk and walked the short distance over the sea to the rounded white cabins that lined each side. I wasn’t entirely sure what they were made of, but it seemed to be an imported wood lining the interior with some form of superalloy protecting the exterior from surface storms - which became practically super-storms given there was hardly any land to disperse them on Dac’s surface.

We had chosen the closest cabin to the beach to become a communal area, whilst we each picked another for private use.

Once inside, I was again assaulted by the dual appearance of Padme in a bikini and Anakin only in swimming shorts, seated at the small bar. 

Chewie was already eating his mass of food at the kitchen table, whilst the culinary droid was busy preparing food for the two humans and one togruta separately.

“Ah, Ahsoka, just in time,” Padme smiled softly, looking up from an actual bound book.

“Hey,” I greeted lazily, my mouth immediately watering as I picked up the scents from the food. “So, three days in this little paradise and nothing has interrupted it. It’ll be a miracle if we can get to six.”

“And you haven’t even cheated yet, Snips?” Anakin asked with a half-smirk, referring to my foresight.

“No, not once,” I said emphatically, also taking a seat at the bar.

“Good. Our stay here is backed by the king and any interruption of his gift to us would be a major diplomatic issue.” He poked Padme in the shoulder. “Even stopped this one from trying to sneak in some work on a datapad.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a pointed look in reply.

Anakin rolled with the punch promising some future retaliation. He retorted with something along their own bond that had Padme nearly blushing. Her own training could prevent such tells, but it said something that she had relaxed enough to allow this one through.

“How’s the food, Chewie?”

The tall wookiee swallowed his latest mouthful. “Surprisingly good for alien seafood. I should see if I can’t download the recipe from this droid for my wife to try.”

“I’m just amazed we can actually eat anything local. The Mon Cala do have imports for their offworld visitors, but the stuff is standard agriworld fare.” Togruta could generally eat sea life from Shilli’s rivers, but the oceans were another story entirely. Luckily, culinary droids had inbuilt bio scanners that immediately determined what was safe to eat for anyone it was preparing food for. It’s report that I could safely eat from Dac’s oceans was a pleasant surprise.

“Lunch is served, honored guests,” the droid droned, using two of its four manipulator arms to deliver the plates of steaming food onto the kitchen table.

Anakin and Padme immediately got up to tuck in, whilst I was forced to wait for the finishing touches to my own dish.

It was just a few minutes more though and I grabbed the plate from the droid to join the table.

A wonderful, companionable silence settled on us as the only thing that was heard was the constant soothing background of breaking waves on the beach, the tinkling of cutlery and the occasional restrained burp from either me or Chewie.

The food was as delicious as it smelled, with surprising textures and tastes that had an amazing dimension to them. The taste seemed to evolve in my mouth - from the initial taste of a spicy zing that became a mellow note of mildness that reminded me of curry, then fading to a soft ocean aftertaste that pleasantly lingered on my palate.

I had half a mind to abduct this droid and take him with me everywhere. He’d have a place of honor on the Resolute, the instant the troopers there had a taste. If the droid could make this miracle out of seemingly standard fare on Dac, then he’d be able to do something to help the kitchen on the star destroyer.

Anakin and Padme finished first and both left the cabin immediately for their afternoon snuggle session.

Of course, Chewie knew all about those two being an item. You couldn’t hide that from a wookiee nose. He had also picked up on my own predicament. His initial suggestion that I fight Anakin in an honor duel for Padme was rather humorous but clearly came from a wookiee point of view. When I explained the impossibility and complexity his own response was honest bafflement, a roll of his eyes and a single scoffed word: “Aliens.” The fact that Anakin and Padme also had to hide their marriage had the wookiee throwing up his arms in exasperation.

I blinked as my wool gathering was interrupted by him.

“Would it be such a bad thing?” he asked me, after the couple had walked a suitable distance away. I knew what he meant, reached out with the Force and switched off the culinary droid.

“As long as the CIS is at war with the Republic, yes. She already has a rather large target on her back due to her actions when she was queen of Naboo. As a senator, that has only got worse due to the number of plots she’s foiled. There’s also the warhawk faction within the Senate that would like nothing more than to make this a ‘scandal’ that would destroy her credibility. Anakin, on the other hand, would gladly leave the Jedi Order if they forced things. However, it would remove him from the GAR and the fight to protect the Republic, and by extension, Naboo and his wife.”

“There are times I understand the reasoning of some of my people, who wish to keep the greater galaxy at arm’s length.”

I simply nodded in agreement with the sentiment. It was something I occasionally found myself imagining as well. Just finding some forgotten rock somewhere in the galaxy to settle down in and giving the finger to everything.

“It’s tempting, but that is the path of isolation. A blade that doesn’t encounter the friction of the whetstone becomes dull and loses its edge. It becomes useless. In terms of life, we become stagnant and with that comes death. That’s why I consider that impulse and longing for isolation to actually come from the Dark Side.”

Chewie gave me a strange look and I sensed he was rather nostalgic and melancholy for some reason. He sat back after finishing the last bite of his plate and had the wookiee version of a smile on his wooly face.

“Your words make me feel as if I’m back around the campfire with Master Jinn.”

I nearly choked on my mouthful of fish as those words perked in my brain. “Excuse me? You mean Qui-Gon Jinn? You knew him?”

Chewie nodded, “He helped my father set up the wookiee colony on Alaris Prime in Kashyyyk, which my extended family and tribe was a part of. We eventually returned the tribe to the homeworld when the colony was standing on its own two feet.”

“Did he have a padawan with him?”

“Yes, but the padawan didn’t come on the colonization mission.”

“Well, I feel rather flattered you’re comparing me to Master Jinn, but I’m far from the man’s wisdom, Chewie,” I disagreed.

The wookiee just chuckled and got up with his empty plate, leaving me to my thoughts and the last dregs of my food.

8888888888888888888888888888888

The resort was set up with quite a few physical activities to partake in.

Surfing was one of them, though the surfboards had their own repulsors and you didn’t need to ride the waves if you didn’t want to. You could just point the nose of the board in whatever direction and go, though it did take a bit of practice to learn control with just your feet and keep your balance.

We had races around the island and naturally Anakin always won them. The only excitement in them being who got second place.

I was also sorely tempted to introduce them to the sport of volleyball. The resort even had a beach football zone and it would be quite easy to approach one of the maintenance droids to set up a basic net on poles. What sort of resort would be worth the name if it didn’t have volleyball?

That sort of thinking came from my previous life. Pulling an entire sport out of my ass was a bit on the nose and while both Anakin and Padme knew at this point, I had yet to tell Chewie.

So I contented myself with playing beach football against the others.

We played in rotating team matchups, starting with Anakin and Padme against me and Chewie.

The wookiee’s long legs were quite an advantage and his kicks were powerful enough that only Anakin dared intercept them with a bit of strength buffing from the Force. Chewie wasn’t nimble or quick on his feet and Anakin could practically dance the ball around the wookiee. He couldn’t dribble around me though as I shamelessly cheated with my superior prescience. Whenever I competed with Padme though, I made sure to keep things even.

The matchup that on paper should’ve been a curbstomp was actually the most interesting to see; Anakin and I versus Padme and Chewie.

We agreed to not use any Force abilities and the wookiee’s superior physicality let him practically bulldoze through us, setting up Padme with her deceptively nimble grace to score goal after goal. The only thing holding her back was her comparative lack of stamina.

“Yes, I’ll get working on that,” she gasped, clutching the stitch in her side as she sat down at the sidelines.

“Too much sitting around in meetings and your Senate office,” Anakin remonstrated her in good spirit, pointing a finger at her.

“If you can find me the time to get some exercise in, I’d gladly do it,” she retorted with a single arched eyebrow.

“Get yourself a desk that you can raise and stand behind, put a portable treadmill underneath,” I said absently as I jogged back with the ball.

“An interesting idea, Ahsoka, certainly,” Padme smiled at me. “It’s not practical because I never know when I’m going to be called into a critical meeting and I can’t go into them all sweaty and out of breath.”

“True, but have it there for when you can be reasonably certain, such as late at night. When I find you a Matukai master or failing that, some teachings, then you’ll be that much more ready for it.”

“You’re still determined that I should learn that?”

“If you say no, Padme, then it’s no. I just think-”

She raised a hand and that damn sexy smile of hers to interrupt me. “I fully understand, Ahsoka. You don’t have to repeat yourself on the feats they are capable of. My husband is also rather insistent on the idea.”

I gave Anakin a look.

“Hey, anything that can give her an edge against our enemies is good in my book, Snips. As much as I wish it were otherwise, we can’t always be there to protect her.”

“Now, Chewie, let’s give these two Jedi some space,” Padme patted the sand next to her for the wookiee to sit down. “Both of you, one on one, going all out.”

Anakin and I couldn’t stop our chuckles at the thought of that.

“No high levels of Speed, for the sake of our audience,” I said immediately to Anakin with a pointed finger.

“Fair enough, what about the ball? It’s just going to turn into a war of Control, otherwise.”

“Fine, no TK on the ball. We’d probably end up shredding it to pieces anyway.”

I put the ball down in the center of the beach court and stood with my foot on it. Then gave Anakin a mild smile and stared him down as he came to a stop a few meters from me.

We couldn’t do our usual approach of fighting each other with precog in the future, since we had an audience to entertain.

My feet didn’t exactly blur, but I was probably making a few football stars green with envy as my feet gripped the ball, then lobbing and spinning it precisely so it went up behind my back and over both our heads.

A Force empowered jump, tucking into a somersault right over his head let me clear his blocking attempt as I chased the ball.

The beach sand ate up all the momentum it would’ve had on a standard turf, but I managed my landing right next to the ball, immediately giving it a kick straight into the back of the goal net.

“One, nil, to me,” I smirked.

“Ataru as applied to football, interesting,” he chuckled.

Anakin retrieved the ball and this time he had the kick-off. 

Despite his adherence to Djem So’s solid foundation, he showed he was no slouch in the acrobatics department either.

He kept the ball at his feet, powering against my attempt to tackle it off him. He snuck it right between my legs, flipped over my shoulder in a sideways somersault and a single kick later, scored in the goal.

“One all,” he grinned.

With that we continued to delight our audience with what could be called Ataru Jedi football. Though I was also taking a little bit of inspiration from my memories of Shaolin Soccer.

Both Padme and Chewie cheered when I managed to set up and score with a reverse somersault kick.

Not to be outdone, Anakin practically hovered over me to header the ball into the net.

We kept trying to one up the other with more and more outrageous feats of dexterity, ball control and acrobatics.

The afternoon was finished off with both of us trying to tackle the ball in mid-air and even fighting for it with our feet as we kept ourselves airborne for as long as possible, using the Force to lighten ourselves and throwing low level Pushes against the ground to stay up there.

Of course, Anakin won that contest of Force endurance and he robbed me of the ball when I had to obey the law of gravity. 

“32, 30,” he declared, breathing somewhat heavily.

“I concede defeat,” I gasped, leaning on my knees.

He patted me reassuringly on the back. “That was amazing though, Snips. Well done. It wasn’t training but with that level of control, I’m sure you’ll easily push yourself to level seven or even eight in the Temple Training Room.” 

“I’ve honestly not even thought about that for subjective years at this point, Skyguy.”

“Well, when we get back to Coruscant I want you to try. It’s one more argument for you eventually taking knighthood trials. Yes, I know you don’t want it while the enemy is watching, but you must also think beyond him at some point, Snips.”

“Understood, Master,” I said sincerely.

“Good. Now let’s all go cool off with a swim.”

88888888888888888888888888888888

On the evening of the fifth day of our royal holiday, the galaxy decided it had granted us enough peace.

I was lying on my bed in my cabin, about to fall asleep when the secure datapad which kept me connected to the Fulcrum network started beeping for my attention.

With a thought, it flew from my bag across the room to land in my hand. Then I went through the rather laborious security measures, key code, key phrase and a self-scan to verify it was actually the living DNA of Ahsoka Tano holding it before it was finally unlocked.

The small holo of HK-47 appeared.

“Perfunctory greetings: Hello master.”

“HK,” I greeted, sitting up in my bed. “I won’t bother asking if you know what the time here is on my little corner of Dac. So please, what’s going on?”

He replied with just three words, “Answer: Dark Jedi.”

My stomach lurched as he used the simple phrase. There was only one question now, “Who?”

“Answer: Master Sora Bulq.”

I kneaded my forehead as I considered the implications of that. This was going to hit the Jedi Order like an asteroid. Bulq was a veteran of the Geonosis arena. He was a blade master of supreme renown and had helped Mace Windu in his refinement of the Vaapad blade techniques. There were very few Jedi alive today who hadn’t been in Master Bulq’s lightsaber class in the academy. The weequay Jedi Master was a recognized master of all primary forms of saber combat and was also on his way to a mastery of Vaapad.

“How did it happen?”

“Explanation: Bulq was seen in the company of Count Dooku himself as both led an attack on a Republic Acclamator assault ship VCD987. The ship was on its way to the Drongar system to deliver relief and reinforcements for the fighting occurring on the planet.”

I quickly tapped the datapad to bring up the planet data in question.

Drongar was a planet merely a single sector away from Mon Cala, also on the very edge of the galaxy. It was hardly a strategic point at all, except for what the planet just so happened to produce. It was the reason why the Republic and CIS had been fighting for it since nearly the start of the war.

It was home to an extremely rare plant species known as bota. That only grew on the planet and decayed rapidly once it left the biosphere unless it was carbon frozen. Even then it rapidly lost its potency over five days.

Looking at its effects, I could only conclude that we were looking at something either the Rakatans engineered or even the Celestials. It was somehow a medicinal for every species that took the refined form of plant, combining the effects of a perfect antibiotic, antipyretic, narcotic, soporific and a stimulant. If anyone Force sensitive took it, it also gave them a far stronger connection to the Force.

It was quietly discovered by Jedi explorers just a few months before the Clone Wars had broken out. The Council kept their silence and didn’t go out of their way to announce the discovery either. They were rather justifiably concerned it would trigger a gold rush of legitimate and illegitimate interests. Given how far out on the Rim the planet was, it was unlikely that any edicts from the Republic could be properly enforced regarding bota. The correct conclusion was reached that it would be swiftly taken over by a criminal syndicate, either the Hutts or the Black Sun.  

Naturally, its existence was leaked to Dooku and the CIS via Palpatine’s own eyes and ears in the Temple. When the Clone War broke out, both sides rushed towards Drongar and it had been a low level battleground ever since.

What made it even more unique was that the fighting was only done with vibroswords, staffs, sonics and the occasional slugthrower, since anything else risked the very thing they were fighting over - the fragile bota plants. It was clone versus droid in melee combat in skirmishes across the planet, since both sides had to carefully consider when to actually risk taking casualties. Even the CIS war machine struggled to send droids to the planet given how much higher priority battlespaces required.

Yet now, when the Republic finally managed to send reinforcements, Dooku and Bulq intervened personally, attacking the Acclamator in the neighboring Pakuuni system. Three Jedi knights had been on board as well, two were captured whilst the third managed to escape to bring word back of Bulq’s betrayal.

Something in Jedi Kai Justiss’s report and the whole thing didn’t gel to me.

“When did the attack happen?”

“Answer: Two standard days ago, master.”

I brought up Bulq’s service record in the war and besides being in the battle that started it all, in which he lost his padawan to the overwhelming fire of the battle droids in that fateful arena, there was curiously little to note. Rather strange for one of the premiere blade masters of the Order. He had also been presumed dead after his evacuation gunship was shot down, but he returned to Coruscant with a critically injured Jedi Master Tholme three months later.

He declared himself unfit for war after having lost his padawan and so many other friends and students in the Geonosis arena, then went into seclusion.

It was only when Tholme awoke a few weeks later that it emerged that the master had essentially gone rogue to hunt for Dooku himself and that he had recruited Bulq to do so. They had fought Dooku without success. Darth Tyranus had defeated them relatively easily.

Yet now, after ten months or so, Bulq emerges from his seclusion as an acolyte of Dooku? With not a single indication from Republic Intel or other sources that he was a traitor. It was theoretically possible…

Ten months of training under Dooku, I thought.

There were only so many hours in a day and Dooku had an entire war to run across a galaxy. He couldn’t afford to let someone of Bulq’s prowess to go on a bloody training camp in the middle of nowhere. Bulq didn’t need more training. If he fell to the Dark Side he’d just need a few days of pointers from Dooku and the ball would be rolling. Then the first thing Dooku would’ve done was…

“I don’t buy it,” I said looking at HK with a mild glare.

HK chuckled, “Admiration: Very good, Master. Explanation: Dooku wanted to create a highly placed double agent in the ranks of the Jedi. As typical of Sith, he doesn’t trust his master to give him the full intelligence picture of what is happening in the Jedi Temple. Bulq’s treachery was already revealed to Mace Windu, when the meatbag attempted to engineer a schism in the Jedi Order, four months after the Battle of Geonosis.”

“And Windu and the Council kept it quiet because it would be a hammerblow that could shatter the Order, which was already going through an ideological schism because of the war.”

A schism that was still ongoing between the orthodox faction and Master Depa Billaba’s moderates. Bulq’s now public fall to the Dark Side and its ripples was going to be interesting to see among the two sides. Not to mention the reaction from the Senate, GAR and the general public as well.

The Order wouldn’t shatter now, given that a new equilibrium had been almost reached as the Jedi got used to their wartime role, somewhat bearing out the wisdom of keeping the whole affair quiet. The consequences would still be something to carefully watch out for now.

“Observation: It seems that now Dooku at least has a replacement for Ventress.” 

“True and a much more capable one. For all her skill and power, she was relatively young. Bulq fallen to the Dark Side makes for a much more experienced and formidable foe.”

With reluctance I opened myself to the future probability lines.

HK waited patiently.

The problem with fighting Palpatine and his schemes was that it was much like fighting the ancient hydra. Cut off one head, more will regrow in its place.

Bulq in the grand scheme was just another tool. I could see him being used in a number of future battles, plots, assassinations and even the raising of another clone army of Morkugai warriors - a sect of Nikto who were specialized in hunting down and killing Force sensitives.    

Take him out of the equation, Dooku finds another to continue the work. The number of Jedi falling to the Dark Side or sensitives being trained in secret by Palpatine was only growing.

Yet there were two events that were giving me pause.

“HK,” I said grimly.

“Eager Anticipation: Yes, master?”

“Go do what you do best.”

“Eager Query: Is there any method that you would prefer, master?”

“Our enemies must not suspect anything; it must seem accidental.”

“Mild Disappointment: Not my favorite method, Master, but I do find those most humorous and entertaining on occasion, especially if it’s delivered with a hint of irony.”

“Don’t go too out of your way to make it so, HK. Then it becomes suspicious. There can be no doubt in the enemy’s mind.”

“Acknowledgement: Very well, Master. Query: Anything else?”

“Just to compliment you for your work for Bel Iblis on Corellia. Flawless stuff. Well done.”

“Preening acceptance: Why thank you, master. It warms my non-existent heart.”

The Black Sun and Pyke Syndicate were both functionally dead on Corellia now, with scattered remnants hiding in the ancient sewers. Both organizations pulled out after mauling each other in a brutal shadow war orchestrated by HK and Bel Iblis, with a little background help from me in masterminding which dominoes to push and when. The Hutts would fill the void left in Corellia’s underworld. A more palatable, stable arrangement, since they were eminently more predictable and had a vested interest in organized crime and business. They were more symbiotic rather than the parasitic leeches of the Black Sun and Pykes.

“Now get cracking, you have two months.”

"Acknowledgement: Understood Master. Logging you out.”

I cut the link, secured the datapad and put it onto my bed stand. Snuggling back into my bed properly.

The sweet oblivion of sleep claimed me minutes later.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Our diplomatic holiday ended with King Lee-Char himself fetching us with a shuttle. Whereupon Anakin, General Tarpals and myself were awarded honorary knighthoods in the Mon Cala Guard.

There would’ve been a whole big ceremony about it, but the people of Dac were a bit too busy. Retooling a quarter of your galaxy-famous shipyards to produce a new kind of warship would do that to a people.

Our paths would immediately diverge when we were delivered to the newly arrived Resolute.

Padme had to leave with the star destroyer Revenant that was carrying the Gungan Army back to Naboo. Anakin was still technically assigned as her security detail in lieu of the RNSF, so would have to accompany her.

I was called to Resolute’s bridge to answer a direct communication from the Jedi Council.

Back in my Aegis armor, in its standard configuration, I dumped myself into the command chair and queued the holo link.

Masters Yoda and Windu appeared in front of me, rendered into life sized versions.

“Masters,” I bowed my head to them.

“Padawan Tano, good work in Mon Cala,” Windu said with a nod of approval.

“Strong has the Force been with you, padawan,” Yoda declared. “You, elsewhere now we need.”

“The Council wants you to take the Resolute along with the 501st to bring relief supplies to Drongar. No doubt, you’ve seen the news by now of former Jedi Master Bulq’s defection to the CIS.”

I merely nodded outwardly donning a mask of determined outrage that another Jedi would defect, whilst throwing beneath those more deceptive masks. Palpatine had not let the opportunity slip to leak the news of the defection and it was all over the major newsfeeds.

"The ship and Jedi knights he attacked with Dooku were on their way there. The local Republic garrison urgently needs those supplies.”

“Understood, Master Windu. However, won’t Bulq just repeat the attack on the Resolute this time?”

“Republic Intelligence has confirmed his presence on Felucia as of eight hours ago. Scouts indicate no Separatist reinforcements within two days range of Drongar. Stopping our reinforcement was the only move they had to keep their chances alive of keeping the planet.”

I nodded, “What are my objectives besides the resupply?”

“We’re sending you a data packet on the planet with everything you need to know. If you can rout the Separatist forces with acceptable losses, go ahead. Otherwise you may need to evacuate the garrison if the Republic position there is no longer tenable. However, that determination will remain with the local theater commander.”

“I see. Very well, masters. I will get underway as soon as possible.”

“Padawan,” Yoda tapped his gimer stick for emphasis. “If attack, Sora Bulq should, engage him, do not.”

“I remember his classes well, Master Yoda. A Sora Bulq, steeped in the Dark Side, is not an opponent I would ever meet blade to blade.”

“Good, then may the Force be with you, Padawan Tano.”

8888888888888888888888888888888888

A few hours later I was in Briefing Room One, thoughtfully gazing into the holotank with a full render of the Drongar system and the primary target planet in question. Every known CIS and Republic position, the disposition of forces, what order of battle both sides had.

It was a grand old charlie foxtrot, in old Earth military parlance.

“Hey Snips.”

I looked up and gave a raised brow to Anakin as he ambled into the room.

“Skyguy, has the Revenant not left yet?”

“Still two hours, there’s been some delay due to triaging the gungan wounded. Quite a few of them will have to remain on Dac for weeks before they’re healthy and fit enough to travel.” He stared into the holo briefly then looked at me. “Are you going to be… I mean, I can-”

I chuckled at him fondly. “Skyguy, you have a primary duty to the senator, that has to be carried out. Stop feeling guilty that you’re not at my side when I wade into this mess.” I gestured at Drongar for emphasis.

“It’ll be nearly a 16 day round trip from Naboo at least.”

“And that’s assuming you don’t have to deal with some crisis that the universe likes to throw your way,” I smirked at him cheekily.

“It does seem to like doing that,” he admitted wryly. He looked into the holotank, “It seems that you’re going to have a tough time down on that rock.”

“Drongar is like Mimban on ultra-refined Spice,” I grabbed the holographic representation of the planet and the view zoomed in. “To just breathe on the surface, you need a mask to step the high oxygen content down, which is also murder on most metals, even durasteel will rust in this soup. Corrosive spore clouds in the upper atmosphere with highly adaptogenic organisms that will kill you within minutes if you breathe it in. It’s on the inner edge of the habitability zone from its parent star, so constant high temperatures with a ninety percent humidity factor that never goes down. Its axial tilt and lack of any significant moon means extreme weather and seasons; electrical storms, winds and constant rain. Repulsorlift vehicles are useless and due to the fact that no one wants to damage the bota plants, no blasters, heavy weapons or AT-TEs. It’s all back to slugthrowers and swords down there.”

“The planet must be murder on droids as well then.”

“It is, which isn’t saying much because the conditions are awful for troops as well. The fight against the planetary conditions claims more casualties than the droids do.” I folded my arms and scowled. “Honestly, I should just evacuate everyone from that hell rock and set fire to the bota fields.”  

“But you can’t.”

“No,” I admitted. “The Republic wants it so it can be a panacea. A medicine that isn’t subject to the problems of dealing with varying biologies of all the species under its aegis. The CIS wants it for the same reason. The Jedi want it, because we could send adepts or initiates here and empower them with stronger connections to the Force.”

“Which is something Dooku will want to stop at all cost,” he commented, but we both knew that he actually meant Palpatine. Anakin stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let that world kill you, Snips.”

“I won’t, Master.”

8888888888888888888888888888888888   

The thirty-six hour journey to Drongar was spent in a flurry of preparation.

Most of which was with the 501st, refreshing them for combat with vibroswords and staffs. My Mandalorian Blade contingent was a huge help here. Putting the troops through hard drills and combat exercises. Thankfully, someone in the GAR had thought of the eventuality of combat on a world which precluded the use of blasters, so there was no lack in storage of melee weapons.

The only problem was that the genius didn't extend his thinking to slugthrowers. 

So I plunged into the Republic database, Jedi Archives and even the Holonet; referencing designs from slugthrower enthusiasts of which there was a niche community.

I didn’t have time to make my ideal gun that I’d want to see the 501st use down there. The troops already down there were also making use of sonic pistols and rifles, for as long as they lasted in the hyper oxygenated atmosphere. Making the problem worse, was the issue of a slugthrower that could reliably penetrate droid armor and sufficiently mess up the internal circuitry.

The 205th Clone Legion was the primary force on the planet and they had their fab droids in orbit whip up a portable autocannon that fired a type of slug that surprised me. Someone in the Republic garrison had the brainwave to essentially come up with what was in effect a small high explosive, squashed head round. They didn’t bother trying to come up with something that could penetrate then explode inside the droid chassis. Instead, they used a round that detonated on the armor in such a way that it shattered the interior of the armor casings, creating shrapnel that bounced around and wrecked a droid’s internals. It was what I would call a HESH round in a gun.

These slugthrowers were not coming off a mass assembly line though and it was essentially a cobbled together cottage industry of fab droids making them. The guns had an effective lifespan of roughly two weeks before rust rendered them useless and it was even shorter if they were used a lot in the field.

If the situation on the ground wasn’t strange enough, the ‘battle’ in the orbital space was even weirder.

There was none.

The CIS fleet in system had a full squadron of Munificents on one side. Opposing them was a single Venator, three Acclamators, six Pelta class frigates and five Medstar class frigates, the latter of which were hospital ships with minimal self-defense armament. 

On paper if they fought, the win would go to the CIS.

The problem was that if that happened, the CIS feared the Republic would go scorched earth on the bota plants to deny their use to the enemy. The Republic fleet was also operating on the same assumption. The Resolute’s arrival wouldn’t change the equation drastically enough to make the CIS go scorched earth either, which was probably why I didn’t have a squadron of Venators at my back from the Mon Cala garrison fleet.

When the Resolute shot out of hyperspace beyond Drongar’s mass shadow, just above the northern polar region, we were treated to the strange sight of a Republic fleet and CIS fleet participating in what was effectively a joint blockade. 

“Utter madness,” Admiral Yularen commented from beside my command chair.

“Welcome to Drongar, admiral,” I said with a wry smile. “Nav, pull us into the mass shadow, join the Republic side of the blockade fleet in the rear of their formation.”

“Roger, commander.”

“Incoming communication from Admiral Bleyd,” reported Coms.

Appearing in holo from in front of me was my first encounter with a Sakiyan. Admiral Tarnese Bleyd was a humanoid with bronze skin, deep blue slit eyes, pointed ears, utterly hairless and he stood at 1.7 meters tall. The most notable feature of the Sakiyans, however, was their craniums, which was inordinately large to house a brain that was double the mass of a typical human. He also kept his naval uniform in such pristine condition, it seemed like it had just come from the fiber fabber. He made even Yularen look sloppy in comparison

“Commander Tano, Admiral Yularen,” Bleyd greeted, saluting Yularen specifically with a stiff, rigid formality. It immediately told me that despite being the same rank, that Yularen had technical seniority even though Bleyd was the theater commander. “Welcome to Drongar.”

Through the Force, I was immediately struck by a general feeling of resentment that was hanging over Bleyd like a cloud. This was not a happy camper.

“Thank you, admiral. We are here to deliver your supplies and the 501st stands ready to assist in any combat actions that you have ongoing,” I said with a pleasant formality.

His eyes turned and I could see he didn’t like me at all. In his mind, I was another young Jedi who had no business in a war.

“The 205th will be relieved to hear that, commander. However, I must respectfully decline the 501st’s aid. The battle on the planet is a very delicate balance as you must know by now. If your troops land in too great a number, it could tip the scale and the Separatists will incinerate the bota fields with the Hyena bombers they’ve dedicated to the task.” His body language relaxed a fraction. “The only reason it hasn’t already happened with your arrival in orbit, was because I informed the Separatist commander and negotiated for it.”

If I had less self-control, my jaw would probably be slamming itself on the floor.

“Excuse me, admiral,” Yularen cleared his throat. “You negotiated? With the enemy? What sort of circus command are you running out here?!”

“A command that is trying to fulfill its mission while still remaining combat effective. I was commanded to preserve the bota fields and retrieve as much as possible, carbon freezing the plants and sending them out with cloaked scout ships. The Separatists are doing the exact same thing. All the while we’re fighting in a back and forth battle on the surface for control of the fields.”

“So the last thing that anyone wants is to upset the status quo,” I said thoughtfully, tenting my fingers under my chin. “I can’t help but note that this arrangement is not reflected in any of the reports that come from this system and I did read them all, admiral.”

“Because I knew exactly how the upper command of the GAR would react, commander,” he said and I could sense he dearly wished to sneer at me. “They dumped us out here in this backwater system, fighting over the most valuable plant in the galaxy and expecting us to achieve victory with the scraps that make it out here.”

I gave Yularen a glance and sensed that the coruscanti was bursting to strip his fellow officer of all rank and chuck him in the brig for collaboration with the enemy. “I see, admiral. Now you’re clearly expecting me to understand, see your point of view and not report you to the Jedi Council and High Command.”

“If you want to see the bota fields go up in flame, go right ahead, commander. I won’t stop you.”

I stared into those slit eyes, sensing and probing with the Force. It was also interesting none of the reports from the Jedi knights that were down on the surface mentioned anything either. Bleyd had clearly managed to convince them as well.

“I will note for the record that I am obeying any future orders from you under protest, admiral,” I said frostily, allowing my emotion to show. “Would transferring the supplies to your ships first, then you shuttling it down be acceptable?”

“You assume correctly, commander. LAAT gunships need to be specially adapted to function as landing craft in this hostile atmosphere and make it to the surface in one piece. Only our Nu military shuttles are adapted for it.”

“Very well, my loading masters will contact yours within the hour to arrange a transfer schedule. I would also like to offer a company’s worth of the Drognar pattern slugthrowers that I’ve managed to construct on the Resolute.”

“That would be appreciated, commander and will make a huge difference in my next offensive. Now if you’ll excuse me. Bleyd out.”

His holo winked out of existence.

Yularen’s mustache visibly twitched as he struggled to keep his composure. “Commander Tano, with respect. You and I should both get on a shuttle now and relieve the admiral of his command.”

“That is probably a good idea on paper and it’s what must be done according to regs. We’d need the Council behind us literally before we can strip a theater commander of his position. Bleyd has unfortunately turned his entire command into a neat little trap. Even if he’s removed, it would neatly swallow the next commander to just continue the status quo, lest they be known as the one who lost the bota to fire or the CIS.” I sighed and rubbed the armrest of my command chair in agitation. “If they’ve been editing their reports, we need more information to decide anything. I also need to speak to the Jedi on the surface.”

“I think a bit of background research on him personally would not go amiss either,” Yularen declared.

“Something I probably should’ve done as well, but we ran ourselves ragged getting combat ready for this mission,” I sighed with weariness.

“You did the right thing, commander. That planet has the potential to be the 501st’s grave if they aren’t ready. You let me worry about Admiral Bleyd.”

888888888888888888888888888888888

After a brief shuttle ride to the Bleyd’s Venator, Furor, I transferred to a shuttle capable of the journey to the surface. Every shuttle in the Resolute’s complement was zipping back and forth between the two ships, so it was simple to hitch a ride.

The Nu shuttle taking me to the surface seemed to be armored with an extra ablative layer for the spores in the atmosphere to eat away at, giving the thing a rather bloated and even ramshackle look.

“Don’t worry, commander. I’ve done this ride hundreds of times,” said the clone pilot, whose Phase 1 armor seemed to have gone through a blender, then repaired many times. I recognized the pitted scarring of slugthrower rounds and repaired vibroblade slashes.

“What’s your name, lieutenant?” I asked, as I strapped myself into the seat.

“CP-7648, but you can call me Grink, commander.”

“Well, Lieutenant Grink, shall we get this ride going and I’ll ask you questions on the way down.”

“At once, commander.”

The shuttle powered up and after a brief delay from flight operations to allow more supply shuttles from Resolute to land, the Nu squeezed itself out of the dorsal spine hangar bay of the Furor and began its deceleration for a descent to the surface.

If I ever had to imagine a planet with the label of uninviting then Drongar would be it. From space it seemed like someone had splashed it with an ever shifting layer of sickly green that flowed over the static blue of the oceans. I couldn’t even see any land down there.

“You wear that armor with pride, Grink,” I said into the shuttle’s com circuit.

“That I do, ma’am.”

“Never thought about getting it replaced?”

“It’d be a waste. Our armor was designed for blasters and basic kinetic resistance. Against the vibroblades, sonic guns and slugthrowers the clankers have bolted onto their arms, it doesn’t help at all. About the only thing this armor is good for is breathing without going dizzy, temperature regulation and keeping the local plants from scratching you, which can be a death sentence on this world.”

The shuttle began shaking as we entered the atmosphere.

I checked the seals on my helmet and M8 confirmed I was as buttoned up as possible with the oxygen masking working within parameters.

“How many times have you been to a Medstar?”

“Six, ma’am. Casualties are treated differently here on Drongar. If you don’t die instantly, you’re either just missing a limb or got a hole in you. Then they get you back to the Rimsoos; the Jedi healers, docs and droids do their thing and you get a ride up to the Medstar where you stay till you’re fighting fit again.”

Rimsoos was the clone slang for Republic mobile surgical units. The 501st had not yet had the opportunity to actually be issued with them and it didn’t look like we ever would, given that we were a ‘storm’ legion - meant to be strategically mobile and getting deployed to big trouble spots.

RMSU’s were essentially repurposed Juggernaut tanks that could stop and deploy itself into a field hospital over the period of an hour. It had general medical facilities, staff housing and even a cantina. They could theoretically treat even the most dire of wounds in the field, given the onboard anstisepsis fields, bacta tanks and even a minor cloning facility that could make replacement organs for the clones.

The Rimsoos were essentially the Republic learning from the early problems in the war. Instead of shipping a wounded trooper thousands of light years to a central medical station begging to be attacked, it was much more efficient to get an injured clone trooper patched up closer to the front lines.

“How many troops does the 205th have now?”

“Roughly 34 000 as far as I know, commander.”

That was an entire corps worth of troopers or four legions and at least matched what Bleyd’s reports said. Such a thing could happen when a unit was deployed longer and longer to a planet. The fighting here had been going on for more than a year at this point.    

“We’re approaching the first layer of spore clouds, hold tight, commander.”

He had barely finished saying that and I immediately sensed I was surrounded by life, a dense concentration of it.

The hull groaned and sharp twangs resounded throughout the shuttle as it began shedding ablative layers as the corrosive spores ate away at it.

Just as quickly, we left the spores above us as we continued our sharp descent.

Grink whooped with excitement. “That never gets old, commander. Never know when the spore cloud with your name on it will come.”

“How many shuttles are lost?”

“Don’t really keep track of that, but it’s been two weeks since the last one, commander. I’ve got a bet with my squadron mates we’ll make it to three,” he said with a happy-go-lucky fatalism that was rather astonishing. “Oh, another layer coming up, brace yourself.” The shuttle groaned as it plunged through another spore cloud.

I internally recited the Litany against Fear.

“Nasty electrical storm ahead, redirecting!”

The shuttle banked hard, shoving me against my restraints as the forces saturated the inertial dampeners briefly.

The rollercoaster ride of hazards continued for a full bone shaking four minutes before some semblance of stable flight was reached again.

“There we go, commander. We’re below 1000 meters, should be smooth flying from here.” I carefully worked and released my fear and tension into the Force. “Eight minutes to surface headquarters.”

“Thank you, Grink. Good flying.”

“Don’t mention it, commander.”

When the shuttle finally touched down and its rear ramp opened, I released my harness with a sigh of relief. The first thing I noticed was the increased local gravity as I walked out. 1.2 G wasn’t bad at all, but it was just another straw on the camel’s back of the awful local conditions.

Above me the oppressive gray-green clouds chose that moment to open up and begin raining in a downpour that I could only describe as a monsoon.

What a wonderful omen, I thought sarcastically.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888

A/N: New arc commences. If ever there was a Warhammer 40k style death world in the Corusca galaxy then Drognar is close. Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend, folks.