The Force Wills - Chapter 30 (Patreon)

The Azure Star and the surviving ships of her battlegroup exited hyperspace and after a brief burn, entered orbit of Taris.

As much as both Anakin and I would’ve liked to formally transfer our ‘flags’ to the giant Mandator dreadnought, it was just too slow strategically and you couldn’t fight a dynamic war when your ship first needed political support from the Senate Loyalist Committee to go anywhere. There was already a sentiment that the Azure had to be pulled back even further to the Core, which was only tempered by verified intelligence that the CIS was still pushing a Providence dreadnought down the Hydian in an effort to take back Bandomeer, now that the frontline battlespace had been pushed forward to Botajef.

The last week had been filled with mopping up and securing the system. Especially urgent was orbital debris cleanup and securing tactical intelligence from CIS wreckage, whilst the 10th Army waged a ground campaign against the CIS droid divisions holding out on Bandomeer itself and liberating the local population.

Most of my journey back to Taris had been spent in the Fleet command room, replaying a simulation of the battle for the system - trying to see if I could’ve done any better at any point.

“At it again, Snips?”

My hands paused on the holo-interface and Anakin entered through the room’s door in the seemingly infinite space.

“Always something to learn, Master,” I commented lightly, trying to not seem flustered even as I had to admit to myself that I was probably beating a dead horse by now.

“True,” he acknowledged. “How many times have you run this sim?”

It was pointless lying to him about this. “Thirty three.”

“I think and I know you agree, that you’ve pretty much exhausted every possibility for learning from this and now you’re reaching into realms of obsession. That is why I think a more profitable distraction is in order.” His tone was very serious, almost to the point of being alarming. From behind his back he produced something thick and rectangular, which was wrapped in prettily decorated flimsiplast.

Suddenly he smiled brilliantly, “Happy 16th Birthday, Ahsoka.”

He could’ve hit me with a Force Push… what?

“Is it really that date?”

Anakin simply nodded and held out the gift.

I reached out and accepted it slowly. “You do know, we Togrutans don’t really celebrate it as a rule.”

Birthdays were celebrated among humans and a general majority of species in the galaxy. There were naturally variations depending on culture and Togrutans who lived off-world pretty much adopted it to fit in. On Shili, life passage celebrations were linked to the growth of your lekku and not the strict passage of the galactic and local calendar. There were also celebrations for hunting akul and adding the trophy teeth to your headband.

“Yes, but you grew up most of your life on Coruscant, so…”

“Then thank you for the gift… Anakin.”

He smiled at me and nodded pointedly at the gift.

I carefully tore open the folds of the gift wrap and pulled it off to reveal… a book.

An actual, bound hardcover black book that had the markings of age and a lot of wear. Despite this, its large title was still eminently visible and glistening. The imitation leather was smooth, with the decorative indentation clear and giving a pleasant tactile feel. Prominent in the center, stood proudly the Jedi symbol, with flaming wings surrounding an eight pointed star, bisected with a symbolic lightsaber. Above it stood simply in an unassuming large font, ‘The Jedi Path’.

It felt surreal as I opened it slowly. It was actual paper, printed using trees grown from one of the agriworlds that the Jedi AgriCorps maintained.

Prominent on the first page was the list of contributing authors; Grandmaster Fae Coven, Yoda’s immediate predecessor, Crix Sunburris, a legendary Jedi starfighter pilot, Restelly Quist, a Jedi Chief Librarian… on and on it went. The true value of this particular book came from whose hands it had passed through, from master to padawan, each adding their own insights in footnotes and scribbles.

Yoda was the first owner, he passed it on to Thame Cerulian, then Count Dooku. Dooku gifted it to his padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn. Jinn passed it on to Obi-wan and then to Anakin.

Now, it was my turn.

Even as I held it in my hands I could sense the vague impressions of their previous owners through the Force.

“I figured what better gift to a Consular than knowledge,” he commented with a grin, which faltered slightly. “Though what to get for your next birthday is going to be an interesting puzzle.”

“Keep the actual books coming,” I grinned eagerly. Owning paper books that I could actually read in my hands with turning pages was an extreme novelty in this galaxy.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now my other bit of business is that we have a shuttle to catch back to Coruscant. Intelligence has been seeing a marked increase in criminal activity relating to the war. It’s gotten to the point where the Council has decided to return Jedi on light duty after a stint on the front lines, back to the homefront to deal with these criminal cases.”

“As if we didn’t have enough on our plates,” I grumbled.

“True, but since you’ve been my padawan we haven’t really done anything in the criminal underworld. It’s experience you’ll need, especially after the war.”

Anakin did have a point on that. Whatever happened with regard to the Jedi Order, the Republic and the rising of Palpatine’s New Order - operating in the criminal underworld was something I needed to learn.

“Very well, Master. When do we leave?”

“First thing in the morning tomorrow, there’ll be a ceremony to hand over command of the Azure back to Captain Mirach tonight.”

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The four day journey back to Coruscant was done in a Nu-class shuttle. It was spent mostly in lessons from Anakin on the criminal underworld; covering topics such as smuggling, thievery, illegal slicing, murder and assassination. Another prominent part was organized crime, cartels and syndicates. He even pointed out a number of pages in ‘The Jedi Path’ that had relevant annotations on how Jedi handled a criminal.

It was a distinct mindset difference.

No way could a Jedi just bust out a lightsaber and start swinging. Much like in my old life, there were Jedi rules of engagement governing the use of deadly force on criminals. It was even stricter in a way, since a Jedi had many powers generally at their disposal that could non-lethally take down criminals. The only issue I had with it, was that a Jedi’s powers and skills differed. Those not as skilled with Telekinesis for example, couldn’t go round and reliably disarm criminals in a hostage situation, for example. There was no mention of that little qualifier in The Jedi Path.

In my typical student style, I didn’t hesitate to throw scenarios and what ifs at Anakin that poked holes in the Jedi criminal RoE.

Criminals so rarely fit into the rules and even took advantage of them. On the other hand, no one, including me, wanted Jedi to be Street Judges ripped straight out of Mega-City One. Yet on quite a few occasions, given the stories of Obi-wan and Anakin’s dealings in the underworld, that’s what Jedi inevitably ended up doing in effect. We might not swing a lightsaber in judgment, but our actions and inactions mattered a lot, especially when we could sense the effects.

It was particularly relevant in my mind lately as I was sensing another ‘wiggle’ in the timeline’s probability approaching. Transmigrated memories or not, the ripple effect of my own action and inaction, was going to impact dozens of lives immediately in the short term and hundreds in the long run as the ripples pushed outward.

Such was the time-sensitive urgency of the specific case Anakin had been assigned, that when we emerged from hyperspace into the insane bustle of space traffic around Coruscant, we didn’t even bother heading to the Jedi Temple. Instead the shuttle pilot was taking us directly to the southern hemisphere of the city planet.

We also didn’t even bother to go through the hassle of finding parking for the shuttle. The pilot simply steered us to our grid destination and into one of many slum districts, where he opened the rear doors and we simply jumped out.

We were in our more ‘traditional’ Jedi attire, me in my Hapan outfit and Anakin in his classical brown-black slightly armored outfit. Even so we didn’t need our boot jets to be able to precisely control our landing onto an empty spot in the street.

This street was nearly twenty levels down from the Coruscant surface, in one of the major trenches that allowed for deeper access.

It wasn’t precisely what I’d call a ‘slum’, but that was only from an old Earth perspective. The area was festooned with neon signs and small shops for many varieties of goods. It looked more like Cyberpunk-lite than anything. The denizens of this area were mostly non-human, with Ithorians, Aqualish and Rodians being in the majority and droids moving to and fro.

You also began to see the quality of health of the denizens begin to decline down here. It was not uncommon to witness someone coughing their lungs out in the open street or people passed out against the wall, sleeping, with signs of spice addiction and so on.

The sounds of the district were the constant whine of passing speeders overhead, booming music from certain levels, police sirens and the background din of various languages.

Anakin had no problem in knowing where he was going in the maze-like quality of these streets and we turned a corner down the way into another adjoining street, filled with yet more booth shops on both sides. The level of dirt and litter cluttering the floors became more pronounced. The overflowing trash bins also added the wonderful aroma of rot that could only come from mixing the food leftovers of a dozen species into one ghastly brew.

The street dead-ended in a nightclub that was blaring the kind of music that made my montrals ache. Inside was our target.

Car Affa was a male Weequay arms dealer. Instead of doing everything above board, his greed for profit had him go to the black market, whereby he obtained military grade Republic equipment that was usually stolen or even hijacked in some way. It was a big galaxy and the logistics of the war was equally big and spread out, which made the chances of shipments being stolen much higher. Now Affa was using his ill gotten gains and trying to make even more money by selling the arms to the CIS, who would pay top price to keep abreast of Republic weapon R&D.

This is when Republic Intelligence got involved, intentionally planting weapons with hidden trackers in the black market to see where they went and to whom. This flagged Car Affa as the central point in a rather extensive web of contacts. Obtaining him, his knowledge and most importantly his client list would go a long way to make a dent in the flow of illegal weaponry.

Anakin paused at the club entrance, “All clear on the plan?”

“Yes, Master,” I simply nodded and walked to the side, covering the entrance. Intel on the building indicated it was the only public entrance exit, aside from the emergency escapes, that would require internal sensors to register a disaster before they would unlock.

He nodded at me, walked through the automatic doors and into the club.

Now it was a question of waiting. To one side of the street, next to the entrance, a pair of typically disreputable looking Weequay were simply hanging out. Both were armed, with the older of the pair even missing part of his right leg, which had been replaced with a metal peg leg. Of course, the picture wouldn’t be complete without them having a Kowakian monkey-lizard riding on Mr. Peg Leg’s shoulder.

They were annoying as that mosquito that bothered you in the night, always humming in your ear, but they were eminently useful to anyone in the criminal underworld. Small, semi-sentient, able to follow orders and even learn to perform complex tasks, three clawed fingers and opposable thumb, they could even mimic language - making them the best thieves and infiltrators in the galaxy. Most considered them just pests.

They were pests in a sense, just very clever ones.

The moment was coming.

Two doors… no, three doors were there for me to walk through.

One led to the easy path, the second the known path, the third was the hard path.

Along each, various other doors were opened or closed. Which to choose? What did I want to achieve? What was best for me? What was best for all those affected? All these ripples shooting outwards.

The sound of a lightsaber igniting hit my montrals, followed barely a moment later by heavy blaster fire.

Two seconds later the doors to the club opened, allowing a stream of sentients to stampede out in fear and barrel down on me.

Hard path it is.

I turned my body right side forward and pushed out with a bladed hand towards the stampede.

The first club denizen that tried to bowl me over, found themselves pushed aside, but still able to continue past me. I imagined myself as the rudder of a ship, parting the sea.

This didn’t stop a certain sticky fingered alien from taking advantage of the crowd.

I sensed my left lightsaber plucked from my belt. That was a cunning trick. The thief had a bond decoupler, which had neutralized my lightsaber’s grip on my belt in an instant.

My will and the Force reached out.

The stampede ended, the club and street now almost empty and I waited patiently for Anakin to return.

When he emerged from the doorway a few minutes later with a very docile Car Affa, handcuffed with mag bracers, I gave him my best raised eyebrow expression.

“Master, I guess we both have a lot to learn about subtlety in these situations and not causing extensive property damage?”

“It’s just a few scorch marks, no lightsaber damage. Nothing, a bit of cleaning and a coat of paint can’t fix.”

“Sure, we just have the Force to thank that no one lost their balance and wasn’t trampled to death,” I retorted, as I flexed the Force a bit.

“Yeah, you got me there.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his head, then frowned when he sensed my Force usage. His eyes looked up behind me and blinked. “Uh, Snips, something you want to tell me?”

“Oh, him?” I jerked a thumb behind me as I reeled the thief in with TK. It was made so much easier by the fact that my lightsaber was gripped in his hand. He resembled a statue as I pressed in on him from every direction, whilst making sure not to go beyond the boundary of his skin and leaving enough room for his chest to move and a small hole for air to pass at his mouth. It was my poor man’s version and bastardization of Force Stasis. The poor Patrolian pickpocket was very frightened and unable to understand what was happening to him. I stopped him, suspended about a meter in the air to my side. “Pickpocket who thought it was a good idea to steal a Jedi’s lightsaber in the chaos of the stampede.” I released his head from stasis, “Relax thief, you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“Sorry! Sorry! P-ple- please let me go,” the thief babbled, his stalky red eyes twitching frantically.

“No,” I said shortly.

“He’s just a pickpocket, my padawan,” Anakin pointed out reasonably. “You’ve stopped him, congratulations. The most a court would convict him of would be three months, unless he’s a repeat offender.”

“Oh, he’s definitely a repeat offender.” I pulled the decoupler from the thief’s webby palm and held it up to Anakin. “And I think we need to make a little example. Can’t exactly send the message to the underworld that it can be open season on our lightsabers.”

He nodded after a moment’s thought, “True, what did you have in mind?”

I stepped forward to face the Patrolian and grinned nastily, “A few questions and I can sense a lie, so truth only. Name?”

“Du- Du- Duvnar, master Jedi.”

“Technically speaking, he’s the master,” I gestured to Anakin. “And that was a lie. Do you want me to stasis you again? Do you want to test me again?”

“Nooooo! S-s-sorry. It’s Bannamu, my name is Bannamu.”

I widened my eyes in mock delight, “And the truth shall set you free… eventually. Now, was this a crime of opportunity or did you intentionally set out to steal a lightsaber?”

“Uh- uh, not sure how to say, it’s both? Yes, I was hired to steal a lightsaber, planning to go to the Temple and pickpocket any Jedi that was leaving, but this opportunity fell in my lap.”

“And who hired you?”

Bannamu clamped his mouth shut and his fear spiked drastically, “I- I- can’t. Please. My client is not someone to betray. He’ll kill me. Even if I’m in prison, even in your Temple, he can get me.”

I turned to Anakin, “Still think this is just a pickpocket case, master?”

“No, I can sense it too,” he sighed and looked at his own criminal quarry. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Yes, go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Good luck.” He pulled from his belt a spare set of handcuffs and handed them to me, then shoved Affa’s shoulder and escorted him out into the adjoining street proper.

I smiled at Bannamu, “Now, you’re going to do exactly what you planned to do.”

The Petrolian’s mouth gaped open, “What?”

“You’re going to sell my lightsaber to your client.”

It didn’t take the pickpocket long to connect the dots of what I was asking. “So… I get paid. I’m in the clear and… he doesn’t have any reason to come after me. I couldn’t possibly know that a Jedi could do all that trickery with it.”

I gave my best sneaky, evil grin and was rather amused how it actually seemed to be instilling a growing sense of horror in the Patrolian, “Exactly.”

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Nack looked up and down the street, his experienced eye finding every nook and cranny where cover was, potential sight lines and where a sniper could hide themselves. He took all that in, mentally rehearsed a number of scenarios and only then stepped forward with deceptive casualness, heading straight towards the location of his contracted thief.

Spider Arms Hostel in the Slum District G-16 was one of those strange locations in the lower reaches of Coruscant. In any database of buildings of the area, it was listed as low cost housing. Yet everyone knew that it was a den that housed many different types of riff-raff criminals on the lower rungs of the pecking order. The kind that the big fish could hire and discard at will or use as scapegoats.

Those who called the place home or worked out of it even knew the score, yet they soldiered on, hoping for the big break or the one lucky score which would net them the big credits that would let them move up the ladder. It was mostly a fool’s hope.

The Rodian who serviced the front desk of the hostel met his eyes and immediately lowered his head, working his terminal to unlock the elevator.

Nack walked in and pressed the button for the ninth floor. The elevator was still in good condition for its age, but his nose picked up the awful scents of many disgusting events that had occurred in it; excretions from overdoses, spice, death sticks and even the copulation of a few species. He was going to have to take a bath at home, maybe have Ione massage his shoulders while he was at it.

The doors opened and he walked down the corridor to his destination.

Something was… odd. Nack couldn’t put his claws on it but he got that little shiver down his back when either something was wrong or… No, it should be fine. This was just Bannamu he was meeting after all.

He tapped on the doorbell button and waited, while adjusting his black and violet formal suit. The thing was always riding up his back, guess Denebrian silk just didn’t agree with his scaly skin.

The door opened and Bannamu was seated at his computer desk as he always was. The Patrolian was always searching Coruscant maps for the best places to ply his craft and still be able to get away.

The thief gestured with a webby hand, “Mr. Movers, welcome, do come in,” .

Nack stepped in, the door closed behind him and a slight shiver hit his spine. His paranoia flared and…No, relax, he thought to himself. “Do you have it?”

“I wouldn’t have called otherwise.” The thief suddenly had a lightsaber hilt in his hand and placed it on top of his terminal screen. In sight, but well out of Nack’s reach. That was rather more smarts than he had thought the little thief had. “Payment?”

He narrowed his golden slitted eyes to study the weapon. It had the definite look of the real deal, a rather beautiful example. A mix between metal and inlaid with a white material that looked like it was ivory of some kind. It also had the definite wear signs of a five fingered hand.

He reached into a pocket, produced a pouch of high denomination credit chits and chucked it at Bannamu’s desk.

The Patrolian caught it in a flash of reflex and immediately began counting with the energy that only one of its kind possessed. Barely seconds passed and the alien was done. He hesitated for a moment before reaching up, placing the lightsaber within reach of Nack.

“Be very careful with that.”

“I know very well what these are capable of Bannamu,” he retorted with irritation and picked up the beautiful hilt. It didn’t really fit his hand well, the former wielder had a much smaller hand. Nack gave a sniff, blinking in surprise at how fresh the smell of the wielder was on the weapon. Bannamu’s pungent smell was more recent and muddled things somewhat. “How did you get it in the end?”

“Funny thing, I was at the club on 20th street, working on my plan for nicking one near the Jedi Temple, when suddenly boom! Chaos. Blaster shots and out of nowhere, a Jedi fighting a Weequay. So quick, all very exciting, but I ran… too dangerous. So many bolts flying everywhere!”

Nack grunted, “Then how did you get this one?”

“Turns out the Jedi had a partner waiting outside the club and as she was distracted by the stampede around her, trying to keep her footing,” Bannamu, made a quick grabbing motion with his hands.

“That is quite lucky, if you’re telling the truth,” Nack acknowledged.

“Of course I am.”

The Trandoshan assassin thought carefully and had to admit, as unlikely as it sounded on face value, he somehow believed the thief. His nose also helped as he could refine the smell on the lightsaber further as definitely coming from an alien, young and female. He studied the blade carefully for its activation switch, found it and aimed the business end to his left where there was enough empty space. The button was difficult to properly press with his big fingers but he eventually managed.

The snap-hiss echoed through the dim room and it was lit with an eerie green glow from the blade.

It felt so surreal to finally have this weapon in his hands. He was an assassin and though he had been trained by the Malkite to use poison as his primary tool, there wasn’t a hand held weapon in the galaxy he hadn’t at least learned the basics of. From the simple vibrosword to complex very illegal disintegrators, he’d seen it all, yet the one exception was this seemingly impractical weapon.

In the hands of a Jedi this became glorious and very deadly.

Very slowly, carefully he tilted the hilt, enjoying the sound of the blade as it buzzed and hummed through the air in response to the movement.

Feeling satisfied he thumbed the activation switch again and the blade retreated into the hilt with an electronic screech. He clipped the weapon into a pouch on his belt, right next to his own blaster’s holster. That way it was safely out of sight. It wouldn't be wise to be seen carrying the weapon out on the street. There hadn’t been a Trandoshan Jedi in a few hundred years, the last being Master Sskeer.

He idly waved to the little thief and left the room.

“Goodbye Movers, do call again!”

He grunted in acknowledgement and returned to the elevator. At the reception he flicked a credit chit to the Rodian, who caught it deftly out of the air. That was the price of doing business here and keeping it private. Nack knew that the blasted alien kept a careful record of comings and goings, then occasionally sold that info if the price was right or the info was significant enough.

At the door, that blasted paranoia flared again. He carefully looked up and down the street. He kept his hand close to his blaster as he stepped out, then began walking towards the nearest public transport terminal.

Only when it came into view a few minutes of walking later did he tie his suit jacket closed to shield it from view. No one cared about being armed in the slums, but it would be a different story closer to home.

A glance at a terminal info display directed him to the appropriate line and he swiftly boarded the first large airbus that was available, finding a seat right at the back.

Various sentients boarded steadily over the next five minutes, whilst Nack found his thoughts drifting and once again turning to the question that had plagued him over the last few weeks.

Who was trying to kill him?

He’d always had a feeling for these things. It was how he was such a successful assassin. The problem with success was that it engendered competition and envy. The market for assassination on Coruscant was extensive, but those who could enter it and stay there without getting caught or killed themselves were very few.

The nature of the job also changed as you moved throughout the many levels of the city-world. In the undercity and deeper levels, anyone who killed for a living was common, gangs and thugs who’d kill for meager scraps or a few credits and a meal. Then it slowly changed as you went higher and the trappings of civilization grew, until at the surface, you were dealing with the galactic movers and shakers. Assassination here had to be so subtle that if anyone died to an obvious assassination, then something had gone wrong or it was amateur hour.

Could it be that another Malkite Poisoner had set up shop and wanted to muscle in or even outright kill him then take over? Nack wouldn’t put it beyond any of them.

The airbus doors hissed and closed, before it steadily rose into the air, then joined the traffic lanes, steadily gaining speed and altitude until it could smoothly insert itself into the main flow heading away from the sector.

The problem he now saw was his infamy.

He had worked for decades to get where he was. All his rivals and targets over the years, dead to his poisons, administered in the most unsuspecting and creative ways. In addition to the fact that he was well adept at running rings around the Coruscant Security Force. Nothing did more to intimidate an investigator than when his entire family suddenly came down with non-lethal food poisoning and a warning note. If that didn’t work, it was just a matter of finding the right lever or weakness, everyone had one.

Now his gut told him someone still alive had finally flipped and was looking to even the score. It was strong enough that he had begun to take steps… acquiring a lightsaber was just the final one.

He had no illusions that he would be able to fight his adversary directly with it, but it was just the thing to cut open anything that they could potentially throw in his way and it would be a nasty surprise if things got close. A simple on and off, maybe a slice or two, no need for anything fancy like a Jedi could achieve.

“Beautiful night.”

His interlocutor was seated a row ahead of him and idly looking out the window of the airbus. Her white and blue montrals pointing up from her head and dangling lekku… oh, a Togruta. He wasn’t sure why she had decided to speak to him. Trandoshans weren’t well regarded in the galaxy as a general rule. Perhaps it would be nice to have some conversation that wasn’t from either Ione or Cassilyda. Not that the latter said much, as her role was his bodyguard, not to engage in small talk.

“How can it be beautiful? Can’t see a single star with all this light pollution,” he said.

“It depends on your perspective. See the many lights of the city-world as your stars, the patterns they form, the shapes and you can find beauty.” She held up her two hands to the window, forming a square with her fingers and moved it around, as if she was some artist finding the perfect image to draw or paint. He noted how the muscles moved under the light orange skin of her arms. They were rather pronounced for someone her age, if he had to judge from the length of her lekku. In fact, she might be in her late teens.

He had last studied her species ages ago during his time with the Malkite and he couldn’t specifically recall ever having to kill a Togruta for a contract. After so long, their faces all just tended to blend together.

Nack looked, taking her advice. Yes, she was right, he could see it somewhat.

Then she raised a datapad, aimed it toward the window and with a tap of a button took a picture. “That’s going in the database,” she declared with satisfaction, then returned the pad to her lap, working on it out of sight.

“Are you a photographer or something?”

She giggled, “Oh no, this is just a hobby.”

He idly nodded in understanding, “A good thing to have, I suppose.” He wondered when was the last time he just did something so carefree or fun like that. Even before this annoying paranoia had fallen on him, it had been all business. What relaxation he had, was found in casinos and the arms of females. Those didn’t really count, the true moments of fun were fleeting or never found.

“If you don’t have one, you should really consider taking one up. It provides variety in life, beyond the dull day to day of job, travel and the other routine things that intrude.”

“And how does one so young get such wisdom?” Nack yawned and froze.

His nose… her smell… it matched the lightsaber!

He abruptly tried to move and bring out his blaster…  but found suddenly… he could not!

It was as if the air around him had become inflexible.

Invisible walls were molded to his body, as if he was encased in carbonite.

The Togruta Jedi turned her head slightly with a quirky smile, “Oh, you’d be surprised what we learn at the Temple, Nack Movers.”

The only thing he could do was breathe and move his eyes frantically. Even his jaw couldn’t move, so he was unable to speak.

She stood up from her seat and leaned against the backrest facing him. She was a rather pretty specimen and her outfit was seemingly designed to emphasize the signs and curves of her youthful flowering. It also showed him she was no slouch physically, with burgeoning muscles of her bare lower abdomen on full display. She folded her arms and regarded him thoughtfully.

How? How had she found him? Bannamu wasn’t so incompetent to fail to scan for trackers in the lightsaber. He tried to take a deep breath and calm down, finding his center. Panicking in this situation would be pointless. She was using some form of Force trickery… locking him absolutely in place…

“Now what to do, what to do… that is the question,” she massaged her forehead. “Handing you over to the CSF is pointless.”

She had also done her research on him… apparently.

“You did arrange to steal a lightsaber. A direct crime against the Jedi Order. Not many know, but we do have correctional accommodation in the Temple for people like you.”

What? He thought frantically.

“It’d be hard to make that stick though. In the end, it’s a petty crime, no matter how valuable a lightsaber is to a Jedi. You’re a Coruscant citizen and we’d be forced to hand you over eventually.” She tapped her chin and nodded to herself. “I think we should go to your apartment and discuss matters in a more private fashion. I’m going to let you go now. Understand that you have my lightsaber currently on your belt, its emitter is pointed at your left leg. It will take just a thought from me to activate it at any time.

“If you think such a ghastly act is beyond me, think again. We Jedi don’t kill sentients unless we’re left with no other choice. I know it won’t kill you, you’re a Trandoshan who can regrow limbs with time, but there’s a long way to go before we reach that point, something I think you understand very well, Mr. Movers.” She leaned forward and her eyes seemed to lance out into his brain… in that moment he knew, she was speaking the truth.

The invisible carbonite suddenly vanished and he could move again… praise the Scorekeeper!

The young Jedi stepped forward and sat to his right as if she hadn’t just threatened to dismember him, a casual, dangerous smile on her face.

“What do you want, Jedi?” he hissed under his breath, eyeing the passengers who obviously hadn’t heard or seen anything untoward.

“That’s obvious, I want my lightsaber back, but suddenly I find its current position very useful. As I said, further discussion will occur at your apartment and my thoughts will be made known to you. For now, calm down… relax…” Her words seemed to worm their way through his ears and into his brain and the tension, stress, anger and indignation just seemed to fall off his very being. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in… he couldn’t even remember. It felt like he could just nod off for a little nap right now. “No, no sleep.”

“Bloody Jedi,” he said, but there was no heat or fire behind it.

“Yes, believe it or not, I can perfectly understand the sentiment. We still have thirteen minutes until our destination. We can talk about anything but my motives or we can both sit silently. Your choice.”

She might as well have just said he should shut his mouth. There was nothing going through his head at the moment but the reason why this young Jedi was practically holding him hostage. It was a rather odd thing being on this side of such an experience. Was this how the people who he had intimidated with his poisons felt?

It was not a feeling he cared for and so whatever she thought she could accomplish, she was sorely mistaken. Nack deliberately pulled his tongue, concealed by his lips and spiky teeth, towards the back right corner of his mouth, behind his inner jaw, then triggered a small implanted transmitter.

There, now the Jedi would get a warm reception when they arrived at his apartment.

She pulled from her side the datapad she had used and for a moment he was afraid that she had something that would detect his transmission, but no, the screen was showing his profile picture and Judicial file. Oh, so her little photography conversation was just an excuse so her datapad could get an angle for a facial match. Marginally clever.

“I’m curious about one thing in the time we have… why poison? Trandoshans are all about the hunt, racking up points with the Scorekeeper. Poison is not exactly an honorable weapon. I doubt the Scorekeeper awards many jagannath points for hunting prey with that.”

Well, she was somewhat aware of Trandoshan culture.

He hissed a laugh in response, “She awards no points for that, Jedi. That’s the price of doing business on Coruscant. Every weapon the Scorekeeper would have me use leaves too much chance of it actually being traced and used against me. You’ve got my file there… does it say I’m actually responsible for the assassinations attributed to me?”

“Of course not, ‘suspected’, ‘highly likely,” she replied wryly, tapping the datapad pointedly.

“There you have your answer. It’s unfortunate, but I made my peace long ago not earning the Scorekeeper’s favor on Coruscant. I occasionally make trips off-world to Kashyyyk to keep my point tally reasonable.”

His last words were a pointed needling to see how the Jedi would react. If he couldn’t wring her little neck then he could at least do this. He knew what she valued as a Jedi and the casual mention of the fact that he hunted wookiees for sport and their pelts was usually enough to get under any sentient’s skin. It was one of the primary reasons his species was so maligned in the galactic community. He expected at the very least an angry scowl from this one.

Her only response was to switch off her datapad and pocket it, whilst giving him a bland look that showed quite plainly she wasn’t impressed by the attempt.

Their ride continued further in silence and Nack waited patiently with the experience of a hunter.

The airbus’ droid intelligence announced, ‘Next stop, Jrade District.’  .

When the bus had landed, she stood first but didn’t move, merely giving a gracious gesture that he should lead the way.

He hated putting an enemy at his back but obeyed anyway.

It was nice to be back in the infinitely better surface district, with clean streets, tall pristine buildings with not a single bit of graffiti in sight. The mix of species walking to and fro now became less exotic, with a distinct majority being those who leaned to the humanoid form.

As they walked, the Jedi always keeping to his right blindspot, he considered using the crowd to try to lose her. Maybe grabbing a passing female or child and throwing them into her body. It’d be a pain to regrow a leg, but perhaps…

No, this didn’t feel like a situation to use such a desperate move. The loss of a limb for a Trandoshan was easier to deal with, but really was only done as a last resort when the only other option was death.

Ione and Cassilyda would be ready by now. The Jedi had foolishly left her lightsaber in his belt and would be helpless against the weapons she’d face when the door to his apartment would open.

The Habea Highrise came into view, towering over them with over a hundred and twenty floors of prime living space. Giant lights and the passing illumination of two skylanes gave the building a glorious appearance against the darkness of the Coruscant sky. He remembered when he had first moved in; the feeling of accomplishment it had brought to finally be able to afford to live on the surface of the city-world, clawing his way up day by day for years. He’d be damned by the Scorekeeper if he let some young upstart Jedi ruin all his work.

They passed into the building and through reception. The human who ran the front desk raised an eyebrow at him as he saw the Jedi. Idiot probably thought he was bringing home the evening’s entertainment, even though he should know better.

The Jedi headed first into the elevator so she could position herself at his back.

He was tempted to simply body check her as the doors closed, take a chance that he could stun her with his bulk so she couldn’t even think to use her Force trickery.

Again his common sense stopped him. There was no guarantee he would be able to daze her at all. Jedi as a rule were physically stronger than was natural. At least, that was what the Malkite had taught. Nack had never fought against any Jedi physically before.

The elevator door opened onto the 80th floor and he walked left as casually as he could. He could barely hear the Jedi’s footsteps as she followed.

The warm dark brown hallway lined with soft carpeting was completely devoid of anyone at this late hour, all the tenants safely behind their locked doors. Thankfully the weapon Cassilyda would use was by its nature a quiet thing and no one would come running.

He stopped at the front door to his apartment, stepped to the side, so his bodyguard would have a clear shot the moment the door opened, then typed in the unlock code on the keypad.

The keypad blurted an almost rude tone and flashed red, the small screen displaying ‘Incorrect Code’.

What? He thought in confusion.

Reasoning he had simply mistyped by accident, he tried again, going slower.

6-2-2-5-7-8-5-3-7

‘Incorrect Code - Warning building security will be alerted on a 3rd unsuccessful attempt.’

“Having trouble?” The Jedi asked with amusement.

He whirled on her and hissed, “What did you do?”

“Ah yes, blame the Jedi when something inexplicable happens. Did you perhaps consider that your two friends, who I can sense beyond the door and are feeling very tense and anxious, simply changed the code?”

Nack gritted his teeth in frustration, there goes that surprise. “But they wouldn’t lock me out.”

“Really? Neither would betray you to your fate if it risked their own skin? Are they that loyal?”

He considered it for the briefest of moments and shook his head, “They know that to cross me is death. They’re paid very well. Don’t think you can divide us with your trickery.”

The Jedi rolled her eyes, “Then why lock you out? When they clearly knew you were coming with hostile company thanks to that little distress transmitter in your jaw.” His astonishment that she knew that too threatened to break his composure. “But as much as we could debate the matter, the proof is in the eating, as they say.” The Jedi stepped to the right side of the door and pointed down. “Stand here, now.”

He gritted his teeth at her presumption but reluctantly complied. Even as he did so his paranoia flared to new heights… What was this? Why did he feel like this? How could just standing in front of a door, where his girlfriend and bodyguard was waiting on the other side, feel like this?

The Jedi raised her hand towards the door and made a mild sweeping gesture with her fingers.

The door screeched.

Its motors protested as an invisible force tugged against it… the battle of forces seemed to struggle, then abruptly the machinery lost and the door slammed open into its housing.

Nack had barely a moment to take in the state of his apartment. A table turned over, chairs shifted to create obstacles, the lights off…

Foolish, low light wouldn’t help against Trandoshan eyes.

He saw Cassilyde kneeling behind the table, her white face, with red eyes surrounded by turquoise rings. Eyes that narrowed in hate at seeing him, his own dart rifle shouldered and aimed right at him. The darts held the most potent Sennari poison he could make. Kneeling by her side, was Ione, her pretty yellow eyes frantic, both her hands on his bodyguard’s shoulder.

He took in their body language and felt like a fool.

Cassilyde, clearly seeing him, pulled the trigger twice.

The dart gun explosively hissed in rapid succession.

Nack gasped at the betrayal

He was also gaping at the two darts that hovered in the air… stopped mere millimeters from his neck.

Then the dart rifle was ripped out of Cassilyde’s hands, streaked across the room and bent itself in half.

The two females were frozen in astonishment at the seemingly impossible happening.

Then the Jedi calmly slipped her way inside past him.

A mere few moments ago he would’ve shouted at them to shoot and failing that, to run.

The appearance of the young Torgruta confused them and gave them further pause, whatever their natural instincts were screaming at them.

One of the lethal darts at his neck zipped through the room in the blink of an eye and now hovered dangerously close to Cassilyde’s eyes.

The bodyguard flinched and fell backward in reflex. Ione began to scream but her eyes suddenly closed. She inexplicably just slumped backwards, seemingly fainting from the shock.

The Jedi made a casual upwards gesture with her finger.

“Whoah, what?!”

Cassilyde was abruptly in the air. At first he thought she'd jumped. Her species were not known as Terrelian Jango Jumpers for nothing, but the speed and lack of control of her movement said once again, it was the Jedi doing this. It looked almost like Cassilyde was briefly stuck in zero gravity.

“Ah, there it is, tricky,” the Jedi said and just like that his bodyguard’s eyes closed, her head lolled in unconsciousness. She now gently pushed her hand down and the Terrelian sank to the floor. “Whew, that was close. A moment later she would’ve jumped through the window.” She turned to him and smiled, “I trust you realize what happened?”

He carefully took a step back and was relieved when the dart the Jedi was holding with her powers stayed where it was. He took a deep breath and composed himself. It didn’t take much thinking to conclude what had happened and how blind he’d been.

“They’re lovers, seeing each other behind my back. They took this opportunity to try to kill me.”

She nodded, “Insightful and correct, but incomplete.” A flicking gesture with a finger and the dart buried itself tip first into a wall. “Close the door behind you and show me the Terellian’s room.”

He really should just… leave, but the Jedi’s lightsaber on his hip narrowed his options. She had saved his life and that earned her some points but he’d be a stupid fool to suddenly think she was actually on his side. Jedi had their whole protection of everyone code they lived by.

Nack stepped forward, slammed the door controls in annoyance and switched on the lights.

He led the way down the small hallway of the apartment and turned to the first door on his left, thumbing the door controls. It swished open. Two suitcases packed and ready to go. The Jedi entered behind him and looked around.

The bed was immaculate and made up with near military precision, as typical for Cassilyda - those types of neatness habits ingrained from her her time in the Terellian military had never left her. He wondered how many times the two had carnal relations on this bed.

He hadn’t smelt a thing. It only made him more impressed at the dedication and attention to detail it demonstrated. To fool his nose was not easy.

The Jedi gestured towards the left suitcase and it abruptly popped open, spilling the clothes neatly folded inside onto the floor. Then three thin datapads hovered into the air, slowly coming to a stop before him. Nack narrowed his eyes as the screens powered themselves up and showed…

His clawed hands snatched the pads out of the air and he growled as he read one of the Malkite poisoning techniques described in great detail; a poison recipe that was administered via odorless gas delivered from a hidden device mounted in a light fixture.

Cassilyda had somehow found and copied his entire database, every Malkite manual…

“Do you see?”

Nack could only nod. Cassilyda was teaching herself everything, probably even teaching Ione as she went along. They had finally learned enough, planned to kill him and take his place. She even had a list of the contact details of all his previous clients.

Now his mind turned to the burning question that remained.

“Why Jedi?”

“Well, when my lightsaber was stolen it was only natural I try to get it back. So I followed the trail to Bannamu and then to you. Yet, look at this little intrigue of betrayal and potential murder I discovered when I began looking. A good thing too. Can you imagine the Malkite techniques in the hands of amateurs?”

Nack could well imagine what would happen. For all that his database was extensive, there were some hard lessons and knowledge that was only learned by word of mouth and experience from a Malkite master. If these two little fools thought they could use the arts by just reading. At best they’d kill themselves and rid the galaxy of their stupidity, at worst, they could poison entire buildings or a significant part of a Coruscant sector if it went airborne.

“Even if they were apprehended and put in prison, well, I don’t foresee anything good from that either.” He frowned at the young Jedi, was that just a turn of speech or was she being literal? “The Terellian will probably try one of the poisons that you can cook up in the field and make a terrible mess, killing some prisoners and herself in the process.”

He thought about it and found it plausible, there were a few poisons he knew to make from common ingredients you could scrounge together in a prison situation. It’d just require access to the kitchen and opening up a cleaning droid.

“Anyway,” she sighed heavily and her face showed a deep frustration. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You will soon be contacted by someone, by the name of Cassandra. They will give you procedures and contact protocols-”

“Hold on just one second,” Nack couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you… turning me into an informant?”

“Oh no, a little bit more than that, Mr. Movers. You are hereby conscripted into my little network and when I have a job for you, you will do it.”

Nack couldn’t help it and burst out laughing. The sheer gall! Who did she think she was? She barely looked old enough to be of consenting age!

His laugh was abruptly silenced when an invisible iron grip manifested around his mouth and clamped it shut.

His eyes widened in fear… if she moved that grip to his neck…

“Don’t be so loud, Mr. Movers,” she rebuked him gently. “I’m not offended by your skepticism. I rather welcome it. There is no better shield than that disbelief. As I was saying, you’re now an agent in my network, willing or not. If you refuse, then I can promise you this. Inspector Divo will first thing in the morning find a message on his holonet account and a package on his desk containing one of the darts fired tonight.” His eyes widened and before he could even think of turning around to rush out of the room. “It’s already gone. You won’t find it.”

He didn’t believe her and pulled back, testing her invisible grip on his face.

She shrugged, the grip vanished.

He walked back to the main living room. Sure enough, the dart in the wall and the other one that should be lying somewhere near the overturned table was nowhere in sight. He had prepared those darts with his own hands. The poison on them had been used in most of his kills.

Nack turned around in anger as the Jedi walked into the room, she merely waved a single remonstrating index finger of her hand, shaking her head in warning. “No violence Mr. Movers. You will comply. Understood?”

“What possible use could you have for me? Aren’t you a Jedi?”

“You’re an assassin, not exactly hyperspace physics to deduce why I want you as an agent.”

“You’re a Jedi!” He said, as if he needed to remind her.

She chuckled, “I am. Really Mr. Movers, bringing you ‘to justice’” her voice turned pompous and mocking, “is about as effective at stopping evil and death as it would be confiscating a single blaster pistol from circulation. You’re a weapon. So, the moment you get a contract on someone’s life, you will contact Cassandra, with all the details, then carry out your contract.”

Things began to make sense. “And if I should get a contract on someone you don’t want dead?”

“Then you will use a poison that will only make them appear dead and we’ll go from there in apprehending your client, while keeping your reputation intact as much as possible. However, there may come a time when I or someone in my network might need your services. At which point you will make yourself available.”

“Since when do Jedi use blackmail?”

She laughed, “Oh, you’d be surprised Mr. Movers. Now, enough prevarication. Are you in or do I need to contact the good Inspector Divo?”

He felt like the words just didn’t want to leave his mouth but finally hissed, “Fine, yes, whatever.”

“Good, now that wasn’t so hard was it?” she asked mockingly, then began walking to the front door.

“Hey…” He cut himself off when he heard a click at his belt. In the next moment her lightsaber squirmed its way out of the holster, zoomed across the room and into her waiting hand. “What’s your name?”

“You can do your own research about that. It wouldn’t be hard. Otherwise you’ll address me as Fulcrum.”

“Well, Ms. Fulcrum,” he said sarcastically. “What do you suggest I do about these two?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the one with the blackmail, I’m your agent now apparently, you’re a Jedi. Aren’t you going to tell me to not kill these two?”

She frowned, closing her eyes for a brief moment and shook her head. “Unless you want to commit suicide at this point, I’m not telling you to do a damn thing. If you let them go, they’re going to keep trying to kill you. The blundering attempts will be amusing for you, but it will catch innocent people in the crossfire.” Fulcrum attached her lightsaber to her belt and paused her hand just before the front door controls. “Another thing, should I hear you set one foot on Kashyyyk and I will know if you do. Then you will find yourself visited by another of my network’s members, who will devise an amusing ending for you by his standards, but one which you will regret every second of.”

Every word she spoke seemed to carry unnaturally and hammer into his brain.

He tried his best to appear unaffected by the sheer weight her words carried but somehow fear seemed to worm through his body everywhere, “Whatever, many places in the galaxy to get points, Ms. Fulcrum.”

She opened the door and left.

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A/N: Ooof, Ahsoka. This chapter really hammered home to me what a nightmare it would be to have prescience in a law enforcement context. How to navigate saving the most life, but realizing and accepting you can't save everyone.