The Force Wills - Chapter 41 (Patreon)

Organizing the transport of a 99 meter long, 60k ton corpse across the galaxy was not your everyday logistical feat. Made especially more difficult when the brainiacs of Republic R&D decided that they wanted to be lazy and asked for the Zillo beast corpse to be brought to Coruscant.

Then because it was menial, busy work and not exciting at all, the job had to be foisted off onto the padawan.

“Come on, Snips, it’s not like I’m going on vacation,” Anakin explained, as we watched the giant corpse slowly being lowered by LAATCs onto a rather equally giant transport pallet that we had designed with help of Resolute’s engineers.

As we were on the tail end of a major campaign, a lot of shipping pallets that had carried everything from ammo to food were now empty. They were big, sturdy and came with built in repulsors. In the end, we ended up building the Corusca equivalent of a modular transporter out of nearly 80 shipping pallets, bolting them together and slaving their controls to a singular system.

“It might as well be a vacation, training the Clone Youth Brigade is easy duty,” I waved off his argument.

Though the clones mature faster than the typical human’s natural growth cycle, they didn’t spend all that time only on Kamino and its training facilities. They also had ‘in-the-field’ training rotations. How this was done when the clone army’s existence was being kept secret was something I didn’t know, but there was a lot of unmonitored real estate in the galaxy to get lost in, so it wasn’t really surprising.

These training rotations, now that the war was ‘hot’, were done on allocated Venator star destroyers that generally kept themselves far away from the front lines. The Youth Brigade were clones who were roughly the equivalent of 12 to 13 years old biologically, who were about to undergo the final accelerated ‘sprint’ to adulthood. It was the perfect time to train a lot of the foundational skills of what made a Republic clone trooper the soldier he was.

The LAATCs released their cables and the massive corpse sunk all its weight onto the modular pallets. They sank a few centimeters abruptly but kept their cohesion and repulsion.

I released a bit of tension and worry into the Force.

It was one thing to show it working on paper, doing the math a dozen times that showed it would work. The practice and the actual doing part was something else.

A bunch of flying cargo droids now picked up what had to be the largest single organic plasticine sheet in existence, made with the help of Malastarian industry, and slowly began pulling and draping it over the giant corpse. This combined with turning an entire forward hangar bay of Resolute into an impromptu morgue by lowering the temperature considerably, would keep the natural decay processes at bay during the journey to Coruscant.

There had also been talk of perhaps using carbonite freezing to stop it even further, but that was absolutely bonkers. I had half a mind to set up a holonet call, just to remotely slap the scientists upside the head. The only way to get enough of the carbonite material would’ve been to park the Resolute directly over a factory of the stuff. Not to mention there wasn’t a carbonite freezer system in the galaxy that was designed to operate on the scale required. That didn’t even take into account how the Zillo beast’s utterly unknown biochemistry would react to such treatment.

“Let’s get out of here, Skyguy. It’s gonna get quite chilly here soon.”

We left the forward hangar bay and headed for the nearest turbolift.

“So how are you feeling about this?” Anakin asked into the din of the grav motivators humming through the lift.

“Master, there is nothing to feel. It’s a simple cruise back to Coruscant.”

“Without me or even Yularen to back you up, Snips. You’ll be the sole command authority of the Resolute. You have Captain Velos as your second, the department heads and that’s it.”

Velos was a naval clone that had been serving on Resolute for a month now; decent guy, competent like they all were. I sensed that he really didn’t like playing fourth fiddle in the chain of command though. He wanted his own Venator and I didn’t blame him one bit for feeling that way. He unfortunately had the bad luck of what sci fi nerds generally called the ‘Riker Curse’. The man had so far in the war been just too damn good at being a 2IC, that no one wanted him pushed to the top spot.

He kept pushing for it though with his top performance and filing every request the regs allowed. Captains eventually had no choice but to transfer him.

On the Resolute, most of the time he was on the port side flight bridge doing an excellent job of commanding it.

“It should be a nice relaxing nine days, Skyguy. By the way, what ship are you and Windu taking the kiddy clones on?”

“The Endurance.”

I nodded in understanding. “A good ship, I’ve heard nothing but good things about Admiral Kilian.” I pushed my next thoughts down our bond.

“Anakin, make sure Mace Windu never rests.”

He blinked at me in confusion before his expression turned neutral. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“What are you talking about, Snips?”

“I’m afraid your training cruise is going to be interrupted. All I can say; don’t let Windu rest.”

His irritation surged, “Snips, I hate it when you do that.”

“Master, I’ve taught you enough about the future and foresight. You know, that even knowing about it will change it. You are involved in this probability path, as am I. If too much deviation occurs-”

“Yes, yes, great. So much for light duty.”

“You’re horrible at it anyway, Skyguy.”

“Hey!”

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Resolute began its long voyage to Coruscant and I spent the first few hours in meetings with the various department heads. It was the long, boring drudgery of digital paperwork that greased the various cogs of the ship and made it into a functioning vessel according to the standards of the Republic Navy.

Everyone only saw the big flashy amazing star destroyer. They didn’t know the amount of work required just to make sure the thing functioned as a ship that could fly through hyperspace. It felt like my thumb was about to fall off from all the times I had jabbed my biometric authorization onto a digital form.

It was especially bad after a campaign, as requisition and resupply forms had to get into the system. So that when Resolute made port in Coruscant, everything would already be waiting for the logistics boys to load up the ship.

Thankfully by the end of the first day that was over and I could go back to a more normal schedule, at least, normal by my standards.

This meant a resumption of training in the onboard Danger Room, as well as including the onboard squad of Mandalorians in that training.

The Blades had been deployed on the Malastare campaign. They had been involved in securing a vital bridge on the right flank of the advance leading into Pixelito, which had allowed AT-TEs to successfully break through CIS droid lines.

“Ready?” I asked the twelve Blades who surrounded me in a large circle.

We were all in full armor and they all had their blaster rifles and pistols hanging from harnesses or in holsters. Training without armor was generally pointless to a Mandalorian, but it was taught nevertheless as there might be times where there was just no time to get into the full beskar’gam or in an ambush situation.

The nine men and three women nodded at me.

“Begin.”

Everyone brought their weapons to hand and raised to fire at me.

The snap-hiss of three lightsabers resounded throughout the training room and I began moving.

The sabers began whirling around me as I blurred forward.

Blaster fire came at me from every angle.

Even with my sabers moving as fast they could through TK control, it was impossible for them to intercept everything.

That was where the Ataru lightsaber form and training came in.

I twisted and flipped through the air, controlling my own body’s movement to generate misses and dodges.

The next moment I was right in front of one of my opponents and gave him a light shove with a hand.

As per the rules of the exercise, he was now ‘disabled or dead’ and out of the fight.

I had broken the ‘circle’ and now everyone was free to move and try to hit me.

I didn’t make it easy; jumping, twirling, deflecting blasts straight back at my opponents to hit them straight on their chest plates, using others to limit their lines of fire.

Two even tried using their jetpacks to hover around and fire at me from above.

Everyone else thinking of pulling the same trick quickly thought better when I used a combination of Force Push and Pull to slam them together in mid-air and leave them groaning in pain on the floor.

When they managed to get enough volume of fire on me to make things too difficult, I TK’d one of them towards me as I moved and added him to my hovering defenses. Using his beskar’gam to act as a shield. It was rather nasty using a human shield and not very Jedi-like, but the Jedi had a saying ‘What is in the way, becomes the way.’ He was a big tough Mando boy, he could take it and it wasn’t like we were using lethal settings, though it was still strong enough to hurt.

Then two of my opponents threw three flashbangs straight at me.

The devices were utterly pointless to use against anyone with beskar’gam or Aegis armor. The visors of our helmets would polarize against it, but the rules of the exercise meant I had to treat it as if it was a thermal detonator thrown by a commando droid.

I couldn’t use my ‘human shield’ to intercept the grenades, that could potentially send him to the infirmary with concussion. Clever.

It forced me to let go of my Mando shield, allowing the focus to throw a Force Push that sent the grenades wildly off course.

The room was filled with a concussive bang and bright light.

My whirling sabers deflected four shots as I somersaulted directly over a charging Mando, who was trying to engage me with a holdout vibroblade.

I slapped him on the back of his helmet, putting him out of the fight.

In the next moment, I proved my inexperience with Ataru as I fudged a sideways cartwheel immediately after I had gotten my feet back under me.

My remaining opponents pounced, nailing me with three shots into my back as I lay sprawled on the floor.

“You’re dead, Manda’lor,” declared Ursa Wren, the Captain of the Blades squad on the Resolute.

“That I am,” I acknowledged as I accepted her hand to help me to my feet. My hovering lightsabers extinguished themselves and returned to my belt. The rest understood that as the sign we were pausing the exercise.

Ursa, was countess and leader of Clan Wren, who was a vassal of my own House Vizsla. This relationship, which I inherited as leader of Vizsla, meant that I had to pretty much accept Ursa and five of her clansmen as my ‘unofficial yet official’ bodyguards. The best way to allow that was to simply subsume the six of them into the official squad of Blades that were assigned to the Resolute.

She was an absolute beast with those custom WESTAR-35 blasters of hers and a very pragmatic leader, strong, who wasn’t a gloryhound. A perfect fit for the leader of the Blades I wanted closest to me on the Resolute.

“I am unfamiliar with the form you just used, Manda’lor. It looked impressive if unrefined.”

“It’s called Ataru, and it's unrefined because I’m still a novice at it. Hence, the reason for these exercises.”

“Curious, you’re expecting to be outnumbered at some point, Manda’lor?”

“Ideally, I’ll never be in such a position in the first place, Captain Wren. One must always prepare for the worst, however.” Ursa nodded in understanding. Of course, this Ataru training was simply my overt first line of defense. My true defense was being practiced unseen as this exercise continued. “Okay everyone, back to starting positions. You’re not just here to train me. We have at least another hour of this.”

Ataru was not the best form to use against multiple blaster wielding opponents, but it was the only way to weave my deception for any eyes that were looking. There was a point though where Ataru mastery became useful against such foes, as Yoda ably demonstrated.

By the end of the training session, I had at least increased the amount of time I lasted against them to just under a minute and one occasion had even managed to ‘kill or disable’ all of them.

It was a good start and by the time we had reached our third day in hyperspace we were all well into the rhythm of training. It wasn’t just them trying to constantly tag me with blaster fire, but we also drilled small unit team tactics and a few other typical maneuvers that I generally used with clone troopers. The thing I had to get used to though was the level of ‘durability’ the Blades had due to their beskar’gam. They were essentially walking ‘tanks’ and I didn’t have to spare as much worry or focus on avoiding them getting hit, unless it was a shot that made it through the gaps in their armor.

It was also on this day that I received a holocall from a rather surprising place.

I got up from my bed and after making sure I was at least decent and presentable from the waist up, opened up the holo link. A quick look at the address codes of the transmission, showed it was coming from Shili. My brain struggled to remember anyone who had my holo codes and address from the togrutan homeworld. Not even my biological parents had it.

There was a brief flashing of Aurebesh characters as it indicated a rather high level encryption was at work, before the holo resolved to display my caller as a rather distinguished looking togruta. He had prominent pointed montrals that practically jutted forward from his head like the horns on a bull, with lekku reaching his lower chest, all of which was colored white and orange-brown of patterned coloration. His crest of akul teeth on his head showed that this guy took his hunting seriously and the body beneath these formal clothes was clearly well trained and active.

He bowed his head slightly in greeting, “Padawan Tano, thank you for accepting my call. My name is Minister Zabror. I serve in the Finance ministry of the United Tribes.”

I returned his bow as appropriate, whilst subtly initiating a secondary trace in the background. “Minister Zabror. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” My other senses plunged through the Force, using the call to give me a perception of his surroundings. He was indeed in a rather expansive office and the large window definitely showed the cityscape of Corvala beyond - the capital of Shili. I sensed no deception and a background search on my terminal showed that he was indeed Sabym Zabror, Minister of Finance for the monarchial government of Shili. It began to explain how he got my contact details. “What can I do for you?”

He gave a brief smile and chuckled, “You can make the lives of a number of my accountants much easier, padawan. You recall that you and your master, Knight Skywalker, sent the designs for those ingenious helmets our military and security forces are all breaking down our doors for?”

I frowned, “Yes I do, Minister.”

“Well, it turns out that someone in the long chain of people doing the approval and digital paperwork, got a bit too literal with the procedures or simply failed to pay attention. They ended up putting both your names on a patent filing with the Republic Patents Office. Someone on the Coruscant side also wasn’t paying attention and it was approved. In the meantime, production of the helmets began locally here on Shili by Kibro Defense Works. The first run had already been bought and paid for by the royal military. This means that percentage royalties began automatically accumulating in the Shili Central Bank… in you and your master’s names.”

I plopped my head on my fist as my mind whirled through all of the implications and problems this generated. As much as I was generating money and wealth secretly, not to mention the wealth that came from the Clan Vizsla side… both of those were exceptions and this was money that by its nature was in the open and visible. It was work that both Anakin and I had done for my own safety and had given away freely to the togruta government. Now because of some bureaucratic drones who couldn’t think outside the box for a minute…

“Minister, you understand that as Jedi we can’t accept this money.”

“Yes, but that makes little difference to my balance sheets, padawan. This money has to go somewhere.”

“Just how much are we talking about here?”

“It’s currently sitting at 1.5 million credits. That’s just after the military production run. Police and local security will also be getting their versions of the helmet built soon. After that, the money will continue to trickle in over time as helmets experience wear and tear. There’ll eventually be the civilian version as well.”

“So essentially a continuous income stream for the lifetime of the patent. How long are those?”

“Fifty years minimum, subject to renewal if desired by the holder or any named legal descendants.”

There were only a few options I could really see here off the bat. I couldn’t direct the funds to my secret business unless it went through a totally impractical number of fake companies, which was money laundering at the end of the day, even though that only applied to money gained through criminal activities. Donating it to various charities did have some appeal, though that still required a proper bank account in either my name or Anakin’s, which wasn’t happening. I could direct it to my various Vizsla accounts on Mandalore and Concordia. That would require me to properly prove to the Shili Central Bank that Ahsoka Vizsla was also Ahsoka Tano.

What a mess.

“Would setting up a permanent transfer to a nominated 3rd party be acceptable, minister?”

He scratched his chin in thought before consulting his own terminal briefly. “Yes, with the caveat that you compose a legal declaration empowering the 3rd party to accept and administer the funds on your behalf.”

“Any specific legal requirements on Shili for that?”

“No, the standard declaration that you’d use on Coruscant would suffice, padawan.”

I started tapping on my terminal, searching the holonet for that legal form and luckily found it rather quickly.

“I’ve got it, I’ll fill it out and transfer it to your office as soon as possible, minister.”

He nodded. “Thank you, padawan. Speaking in a personal capacity, I want to thank you for what you and your master achieved with that design. I have a son in the military and the thought that one day we might have to deploy our forces in this awful war is not comforting, but if we do… well, that helmet will save a lot of lives.”

“That’s why we built it, minister.”

He bowed his head in reply. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work, so I won’t take up more of your time. May the Force be with you, padawan.”

“And you, minister.”

His holo flickered and vanished.

I somewhat dreaded my next call. I was going to have to convince Padme to sign her name to that 3rd party legal administration. She had already gone to bat for Anakin and I in a number of cases regarding finances, assets and wealth… what was one more?

I was half afraid she was going to accuse us of turning her into our impromptu financial manager.

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The fourth day of our journey saw me receive another call in the middle of the day’s training session with the Blades.

My lightsabers deactivated, “Time out, everyone, I have an urgent com link.”

All of them visibly relaxed and holstered weapons.

I had to take the time to remove my Aegis helmet, before holding up my palm. The small holo that materialized had me automatically smiling.

“Master Koon, good to see you.” My senses registered that he was in the main communication center of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

The Kel Dor Jedi Master did his equivalent of a smile behind his breather mask, “Hello, little ‘Soka. Sorry for interrupting your training.”

“No, no, not a problem. I trust you’re doing well?”

“That depends on who you ask, Soka. The north is holding, our offensives have unfortunately not gained us as much ground as we hoped.”

“That’s frustrating, but I meant-”

“I’m in good health and mind, Soka,” he chuckled. “Now, I would enjoy nothing more than to share some ‘small talk’ with you, however, this call is official and the Council has an assignment for you.”

“That it’s not going through Master Skywalker must mean some significant extenuating circumstances.”

“Rest assured, he has been fully informed and agreed that you can take this on. You are the closest capable Jedi that can be sent given the time constraints and you have the full resources of the Resolute behind you.” His holo vanished, to be replaced by a starmap of the current sector the ship was cruising through. A system 400 lightyears off the Hydian Way, accessed via a secondary hyperspace route was highlighted. “This is Pamorjal. It is home to the Temples of Vormijj; three ancient Jedi temples, one of which is being used as a chapterhouse, whilst the others are local tourist attractions.”

That was an arrangement that sometimes happened, especially in the Expansion Regions and when a Jedi temple was structurally and architecturally significant. It was seen as a cost benefit to both support the chapterhouse and encourage the local tourist economies.

“The problem is that yesterday the chapterhouse activated its distress beacon. Attempts to contact it on all channels met with no response. Remote access to the chapterhouse’s systems also failed. We next contacted the local authorities and they were surprised that there was a problem at all.”

I frowned in puzzlement, “Wouldn’t they have also picked up the chapterhouse distress beacon?”

“They should’ve, but promised to investigate. We have yet to hear back from them.”

I poked at the holo and zoomed in to a planetary level of Pamorjal itself, reading the general stats and conditions of the planet.

“Barely three million people, mix of human and ithorian citizens. They have just about a thousand law enforcement officers. Vast unpopulated areas. It’s not surprising they’re not exactly fast to respond, Master.”

Koon’s holo reappeared. “That is the reasonable consensus to draw. However, the Council senses something off about the whole situation.”

That was rather alarming. “Off enough that you’d divert the Resolute, including delaying the Zillo beast corpse delivery, to investigate.”

“That creature’s body will keep. We worry about the living, Soka. The lives of the Jedi at the chapterhouse are more important.”

“Of course, Master. I’m just not looking forward to the screaming coming my way from the scientists on Coruscant,” I said with a wry smile.

“In that case I suggest you put a redirect from non-military channels on your comlink for the next few days.”

“Good idea, Master. I’ll get our course adjusted, we should be over the planet in eleven hours.”

“Excellent, Force be with you, little Soka.”

“And you, Master.”

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Resolute emerged from hyper in the outer Oort cloud of the Pamorjal system.

That the Jedi Council had sensed something off about the planet all the way from Coruscant had tickled my paranoia and my prescience was also oddly inconsistent and almost occluded whenever I turned my mental gaze to the future here. It didn’t take long for a remote search of the Jedi archives to discover the reason why I was sensing the Dark Side so distinctly from the planet.

Somewhere on the southern hemisphere of that planet, an ancient battle had taken place between the Jedi and a group of fallen Jedi. The latter of which had been in possession of a unique lightsaber known as the Soulsaber. It was a weapon almost purely of the Dark Side, a nexus in itself. There was no description of how it looked in the archives, but its effects were clear.

It was a tool of corruption and darkness. Any Force Sensitive and Jedi within its presence felt nauseous or instant migraines form the dark energy it radiated outward. Even non-sensitives could feel the damn thing. It was created to not only kill in direct combat, but could even warp the most saintly of Jedi towards the dark side within its proximity.

The battle that took place was bad enough to leave its scar on the planet, literally creating what was now known as the Pamorjal Badlands, a Dark Side nexus in its own right. A volcanic place where not even microcellular life could take hold.

The construction of the Temples of Vormijj by the Jedi survivors of that battle was entirely in response to the new nexus that had been created, in an effort to at least create balance on the planet.

That Pamorjal was otherwise a planet of jungle, lakes and swamps that teemed with local life showed that those ancient Jedi had been successful. The question now though was what could’ve caused the chapterhouse to apparently fall and for the locals to so dither in sending aid to what was a vitally important source of tourism revenue.

Passive sensors showed nothing amiss in the system at all. Analysis by the ELINT division of the Holonet traffic to and from the planet, what little there was, also didn’t reveal anything suspicious or that sent up red flags.

“This would go much faster if we used active sensors, commander,” Captain Velos pointed out reasonably. Damn, the man could easily be used on a recruitment poster. He was a Jango Fett clone like all the others, but he was so prim and proper, that he made even Rex look like a slob in comparison.

I turned my command chair slightly to face him, “Yes, it would, captain. But would ruin any element of surprise.”

“We are more than six thousand light years from the front, commander. Who would we be worried about?” Velos asked in confusion.

“There are more deadly things in this galaxy than just Separatist war droids, captain. You’ll also find I prefer to assume the worst about any situation. That is also why I’m keeping us radio silent and not telling the locals that we have arrived.”

I hopped to my feet and smiled. “Now, prepare the Phantom for launch. We’re going in stealth. Prepare a hyper jump that’ll bring the Resolute directly beyond the mass shadow of the planet, least time course from the Temples, when I signal.”

“As you order, commander. I just wish I understood why.”

“You haven’t served with a Jedi that long, captain. You’ll see. You have the bridge.”

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The thin form of the Phantom emerged from the dorsal hangar doors of the Resolute and after a brief thruster burn to put a decent separation between the two ships, shot itself into a brief hyper jump that would bring it into the shadow of the outermost planet of the system.

It was possible that the hyper emergence would be detected by ground based sensors of Pamorjal traffic control, but the performance of such civilian systems made it an acceptable risk to take. There was no way we had the time for the eleven day realspace trip it would take to traverse the distance from the Oort cloud otherwise.

The ship cloaked itself immediately and emerged from the shadow of Pamorjal IX, a tiny barren rocky planet devoid of any atmosphere or any significant mass limit to impede a hyper engine.

“Six hours, twenty four minutes to Pamorjal, commander,” reported the Phantom’s clone pilot.

“Thanks Zugo, good work on that jump,” I patted the pilot on his pauldron.

“It’s what I’m here for, commander.”

I walked off the forward bridge deck, various weapon control stations and into the rear cargo decks. The Blades and Rex’s Alpha Recon squad were all here busy checking equipment, cleaning weapons and generally going through all those little personal rituals that soldiers seemed to develop over time.

The one exception to that was Ursa Wren, who was tapping away at a datapad rather furiously. I could sense her emotions all over the place, but I had a feeling as to the problem.

I sat down next to her and suddenly felt a distinct fulcrum in the probability lines roar down upon me.

Oh boy.

She tapped the datapad to power it down and looked at me expectantly and stiffened in her seat, “Manda’lor.”

“At ease, captain. I apologize for interrupting your train of thought. Please keep writing if it’s urgent.”

“No, Manda’lor. It’s not urgent, it’s just… No, what can I do for you?”

I smiled broadly in amusement, “That should actually be my question.” Her dark eyes set in an angular face scrunched in honest confusion. It was not an expression you’d expect to see on the seemingly formidable, self-assured tall woman, who towered above me by twenty centimeters.

“Manda’lor?”

“It’s the annoying thing about us Jedi. We see so much more of the universe than ordinarily folk. When we see something wrong therefore, sometimes we just can’t help ourselves. It’s like seeing a perfectly flat savannah of grass, then suddenly you find a barren patch where nothing grows.”

“And now you see something wrong with me?” she asked dubiously.

“Not wrong, just whatever you were doing was causing you considerable distress. You are my primary bodyguard and a vassal to my house. I’d like to think eventually we could become friends. What’s wrong, Ursa?”

“I- I appreciate the offer, Manda’lor. There is little you can do to help in this. Not unless you can end the war tomorrow and with respect, I think you are too young to advise me on this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t end the war with so little time to work with. I’m a Jedi, captain, not a miracle worker,” I smiled wryly even as my mind was racing and wrestling with various probability lines. “If that letter you were composing was what I think it was, then you’re correct. I couldn’t advise you about the complexities of love, life and the heart. I can’t even confidently say I’ve fallen in love with anyone yet.”

“The Jedi cloister their people too much,” she scoffed. “When I was your age, I had at least done that twice and had my heart broken each time.”

“Yet here you are, breaking your own heart this time,” I raised my brows pointedly at her and bemoaned my loss of eyebrows in this life, though my facial patterning was a reasonable substitute. She folded her arms and despite her poker face, I could tell how disgruntled she was that I had hit the mark so well. “Hit me with your worries, Ursa. You can’t do so with any of your clanmates because you’re their leader. What do you have to lose at this point, given you’re writing a breakup letter?”

“Shabla Jetii,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Shabla Jetii,” I agreed with a chuckle.

Ursa huffed in exasperation, and blew her low hanging fringe out of her eyes. “You’re correct, Manda’lor. It is a breakup letter. There is someone who has captured my heart on Mandalore. He proposed some months ago and I accepted. Then the war started, the former Vizsla gathered the Death Watch and I was obligated to follow his banner. Nothing indicated we would ever carry our fight beyond the sector, so I had no cause to worry. It was a fool’s hope, I suppose. Then you came… I- I hated you at first. I was all ready to join that chakaar in trying to defeat you but in that moment, I could only see the face of my Alrich and I just couldn’t do it. Then you exposed the dar’manda for what he truly was and I was utterly relieved, vindicated. I might’ve been uncertain in what direction you would lead us, but your actions speak for you, Manda’lor.”

She took a deep breath, “Now, here we are, Mandalore in a galaxy at war until whatever end it carries us. Here I am, thousands of lightyears from home, where a shabla soulless droid can possibly kill me in any of the campaigns to come. How can I be so selfish as to keep him bound to me? Having to endure the pain of my death in this war.”

Oh, why do people try to apply the mind and logic to matters of the heart? “If he truly loves you and even if you do this, your death will still devastate him. You will not spare him any pain. Your connection to him through the Force is already set - that I can see plainly.”

It was true. She couldn’t perceive it or work with it as a non-sensitive, but the bond was there. Here was yet another illustration of the ripples I was casting into the fabric of time. How many people on Mandalore would not meet because the war had called them away or got them killed? In the same vein, how many more would be born because the civil war had not occurred?

Ursa pursed her lips briefly and looked away. I could see my words had hit home. “You rightly expose my fear, Manda’lor. I’m a fool.”

“Perhaps, but I hear that comes with the territory when in love. It’s why we Jedi are discouraged from it. Love can make you do many stupid things and when Jedi do stupid things - the consequences can be very devastating. Any student of Jedi history can tell you that. So cherish the love and the time you have with him, it is a gift, don’t squander it. Fight for it, live for it. That’s an order from your Manda’lor.”

I could see the fire in her eyes had awoken, she nodded. “Understood, Manda’lor.”

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The Phantom put itself into a low orbit over the Temples of Vormijj and turned every passive sensor it had onto the place.

The Jedi who had built the place hadn’t gone to half-measures. It was worthy of being put right alongside the Pyramids at Giza or any other man-made wonders of my old world. The temples were situated next to a river, which had been expertly diverted into an aqueduct like structure to create a diverted flow so that the water flowed perfectly on either side of the massive structures.

Each temple had an expansive wide staircase that led up to the base of the structure, which featured a massive door that when closed formed the classical representation of a lightsaber in relief. The main building towered nearly 142 meters into the air with smaller squared towers bordering it. It formed a flat surface at the 100 meter mark, on which were narrower pyramids bordering a central spire that speared into the sky. It was all made of beige colored stone that seemed to just reflect and radiate the sunlight in a perfect manner to the viewer.

Just looking at it through the visual sensors from on high made me feel serene and peaceful. How much more magnified would that be when I stood on those steps and heard the tinkling of flowing water, surrounded by the sounds of jungle life.

Those ancient Jedi weren’t screwing around when they built the place and it made the knowledge hungry scientist in me want to know just how precisely they did it.

The obvious answer was construction droids and telekinesis, the former for the heavy lifting, cutting and the latter for adding that artistic touch. Just looking at it though, I could tell there was more to it.

I pulled my head out of the clouds, and tapped the sensor tech on the shoulder. “Anything?”

The clone shook his head, “Nothing, commander. No movement down there.”

“This place should have dozens if not hundreds of tourists at this time of year.”

“Then something is wrong down there, commander.”

“Focus on the chapterhouse, they should have a hyper capable shuttle parked somewhere.”

The view on the holoscreen shifted to the central temple. There wasn’t any specific difference between the three visually, but each one was dedicated to a sacred idea of the Jedi Order; knowledge, wisdom and life.

“There it is,” he tapped the screen, showing the nose of the shuttle poking out from under a more recently built awning, designed to shield it from the worst of the elements. “Looks intact, no damage from this angle.”

I stared at the live image, whilst sending my perceptions through the Force and probing the chapterhouse.

“How many Jedi are supposed to be down there?”

“Four, a master and three knights,” I answered Ursa, giving her a sideways glance as she walked to my side. “Yet I do not sense them at all, nor do I sense anyone else. The entire place is deserted.”

“Then there is only one option left. We must walk into this trap.”

I grinned at her approvingly, “Good instincts, captain.”

Ursa scoffed, “They might as well have put up a sign inviting us.”

“The only question that remains is who.” I tapped my comlink. “Zugo, take us down.”

“At once, commander.”

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Merely ten minutes later we were falling out of the Phantom’s deployment bay and into the hot and humid air of Pamorjal. Jetpacks and jetboots flared as we descended at the highest safe speed we could manage.

I would never get tired of the rush of skydiving.

We touched down on the giant paving slabs of the temple exterior after the 300 meter fall and were assaulted by the sights and sounds of the beautiful place. Animals chirping, honking and many other sounds. The rustle of wind through the thick jungle canopy and it also hummed pleasantly through the vast structures of the temple.

Everything was as it should be, but for the utter absence of people.

I gestured to advance and the Blades led the way, with the recon clones following in formation behind us.

Everyone had their weapons tucked into their shoulders and were efficiently scanning their surroundings as we began the long walk up the southernmost temple steps, this was the Temple of Life.

“Whoever did this really knew how to clean up after themselves,” Rex commented in the general frequency. “Not a single blast point, no bodies, no obvious distinctive footprints. Not that you can really leave them on this stone.”

The squads stacked up on either side of the giant stone doors, whilst one of the recon troops worked on the door control panel.

“No good, commander. Internal power is off,” he reported.

“Then it will have to be opened as the ancient Jedi intended in this case,” I declared and reached out with the Force. It took a moment to find the internal mechanisms, which were essentially a larger more primitive form of the locks used at the Coruscant Temple. These locks though didn’t just discriminate for a Force Sensitive. This was built during an era where the Sith were openly active, so it also had kyber crystals that drank in the Force energy the person manipulating the lock had. Any darksider trying this would quickly find themselves experiencing nasty metaphysical feedback.

The giant doors abruptly groaned as they began swiveling open with the ancient mechanisms that required no external power to function.

Inside, the temple was lit mostly with mirrored sunlight. There were modern lights as well as emergency lighting, the latter of which were switched on. The giant main entrance hall was a long stone walkway, flanked with towering statues of Jedi knights on each side. The way they were posed, it was as if each knight was both an honor guard for people entering and judging those who entered.

In the gloomy silence, it was rather unsettling.

There were a number of modern devices, holo displays and attachments to the place that betrayed its purpose as a tourist spot; with plasteel signs in Aurebesh script detailing whatever it was attached to or what purpose a particular area served.

Beyond the entrance hall, we moved into the main body of the temple.

This cavernous room featured more circular motifs. It almost felt like a giant bowl arena, with nearly twelve levels of seating around the edges and a central stage that had numerous pillars that supported the overhead domed ceiling. These pillars were carved with numerous writings in ancient Aurebesh and a number of other written languages.

If this had been any other situation I felt like I could spend months exploring every nook and cranny in this temple, but again… I couldn’t sense anything alive, except for the sporadic insect or small animal that made its home in the temple’s tiny places.

“Everyone go active,” I ordered in annoyance, as I brought the Darksaber to hand and got a mental grip on my own sabers.

After a few tense moments the report came back from everyone, no significant lifesigns or active energy sources detected.

“Commander, should we continue searching here?” Rex asked.

“No, for a thorough search, we’d need to split up into smaller teams. Until I know what or who we’re dealing with, we do not lose sight of each other for a moment. Understood?”

“Yes, commander,” was chorused back to me.

“To the chapterhouse,” I ordered.

We left the Temple of Life without incident and began the long walk past it to the more central Temple of Knowledge, which was where the chapterhouse was based out of.

The first goal was to inspect the shuttle.

The squads surrounded it and formed an outward facing perimeter, allowing Rex and a few of the more tech savvy Blades to get to work on it.

Outwardly, there was nothing wrong on the hull. It was a boxy, generic, folding wing Sienar Fleet Systems shuttle that could comfortably hold twenty people at maximum.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes of work with the on-board computer before the first oddity to reveal itself.

“Got something here, Commander,” Rex held out a datapad. “Last flight was just a few days ago, to Shibric on the Hydian Way. Only problem is that the flight times and fuel usage don’t match up. It should be thirteen hours there and back, but the fuel computer indicates a hyper flight time of more than two days.”

Grief, how I wished for Master Vos or even a future Cal Kestis at least. Some reliable retrocognition would be really handy about now.

I handed the pad back, “Let’s get inside that temple.”

The Temple of Knowledge, while its exterior was practically identical to the other two, had a very different interior layout. It was why the chapterhouse was here, as it was functionally a massive library. It used racks of holocube data storage, much like the Jedi Archives on Coruscant, but on a smaller scale and it was more distributed throughout the various temple rooms. The Jedi stationed here lived in a small west facing wing of the temple, which had been intended for the ancient archivists and librarians.

The massive doors to the temple were not closed.

They were ajar by a thumb width.

I put my hand on it and my prescience began acting like it was in a storm of probability.

I took a step back to clear my head and began signing at the squads.

They quickly stacked on each side of the massive doors.

I embraced the Force and doors were pushed inward and open with a speed that they hadn’t achieved in centuries.

The massive thud and crash as they hit the inner walls heralded our entry into the entrance hall. It was identical to the first temple, though the massive Jedi Knight statues here were wearing more stately robes, rather than armor. Their hooded heads bowed in solemn contemplation of the knowledge they held.

The squads surged forward with weapons raised and began a steady sweep of the hall.

I took the center and walked straight towards the doors that would lead into the inner corridors, rooms and staircases.

Using TK on the mechanisms, these thinner and smaller doors parted and we turned into the corridor and steadily advanced down it.

Every door we passed was opened and the room beyond efficiently cleared and searched as we moved.

We were well into the living quarters of the chapterhouse now and…

“Commander, found a body,” Rex broadcasted over the comlink.

“Share your feed,” I ordered.

A small holoscreen popped on my helmet’s HUD, resolving to show a minimal bedroom that was typical of the Jedi who elected to be assigned to these chapterhouses. It reminded me of a traditional Japanese style - a low bed, soft but not luxurious. The Jedi on it was a male human in a sleeping shift and definitely dead. The human neck wasn’t meant to be at that angle. His closed eyes also meant that he had died in his sleep.

“Rex, zoom in a bit on the neck.”

The view shifted as the clone captain knelt next to the body and looked closer. “No obvious signs of bruising.”

“No, there wouldn’t be. His neck was crushed from the inside with the Force.” Well, that narrowed things down, unless there was a fallen Jedi that the Council hadn’t seen fit to inform the rest of us about, a possibility growing ever more likely as the war continued. “Everyone, Sith Tactics. Blades, Siit Aka. If it’s who I think it is, we’ll also encounter commando droids and maybe even General Durge himself.”

Everyone tensed up but smoothly began their preparations, adding extra grenades to their belts, unlatching vibroblades and even adding vibrobayonet attachments to their rifles. They would also never shoot lethal bolts at any lightsaber wielder but would only be firing stun shots.

We continued, and in the small mess hall found the Jedi Master.

He was an ithorian. “According to records, this should be Master Triiv Los.”

“He didn’t go down easy,” Rex declared.

The entire room was an utter wreck, with numerous scoring from lightsabers and the furniture reduced to debris.

Master Los’ body was in a very sorry state, with not only injuries from a fight, but also indications of torture on his brown skin. Both his legs had been lopped off as well as burns to the body indicating liberal usage of Force Lightning. I was very glad I couldn’t smell the room right now.

“Continue searching,” I ordered, steeling myself and letting go of my anger.

For a further twenty minutes we went room by room, finding more signs of a running lightsaber fight through the hallways.

It was only because of my hyper awareness in the Force and a growing tension among my own troops that I became aware of the slowly awakening power sources… seemingly coming from the walls.

The temple interiors were also made of precisely cut stone, the corridors shaped in an elongated hexagon form. It also occurred to me that the power and air conduits probably ran in typical Corusca fashion, on the lower left or overhead. There were vents every ten meters.

All my lightsabers ignited at once.

I lunged and stabbed them through the wall, targeting the power source.

“Droids in the walls!”

The corridor was abruptly filled with the clattering of BX commando droids that jumped from the vents and from multiple holes that suddenly appeared in the stone ceiling. I didn’t have the time to worry about just how they did that.

Blaster fire filled the corridor and I was parrying the crackling vibroblades of two commando droids, intent on skewering me.

The Darksaber slashed through both droid torsos as I twirled the blade through an infinity loop.

Then sent both my other sabers shooting through the air down the corridor in either direction, where they slashed through the air to aid every trooper that had found themselves caught up in the grip of the bloody droids.

Six slashes later, more blaster shots from clone and Mando and it was over.

“We loose anyone?” I asked.

“No, commander. Just two wounded, 77 and Rel.”

I hurried over, retrieving my sabers. The clones in question were already being aided by their fellow troopers with first aid. One had a nasty slash to his upper right arm that had cut through armor, flesh and almost bone, whilst the other had a blaster wound to the hip that his armor had partially stopped.

“Get them patched and moving as soon as possible,” I ordered.

Ursa had already gotten the troopers to form two walls of guns that pointed in both directions while the medics worked.

“Did you see how they breached, Manda’lor?” she asked.

I carefully reviewed my memory, “The only thing that makes sense is some form of plasma breaching charge that acts much like an instant one shot lightsaber.”

“Rather ingenious.”

Blaster fire erupted as one of our defense lines fired on more incoming commando droids.

The Mandos formed the front lines, and in so doing shielded the clones with their beskar’gam.

The volume of fire was such that the six charging droids were quickly cut down despite their own sturdy armor and agile movement making them difficult targets.

Thankfully it wasn’t long after this that the medics were done and the two wounded clones were back on their feet; bacta bandaged, stimmed and given a decent dose of painkillers.

I took point and led the squads through a route that retraced our steps.

More groups of BX droids kept popping up and attacking. It was like the entire temple had been turned into a droid jack-in-the-box.

My sabers deflected the fire coming my way and I surged forward in a blur of speed, rotating and spinning the blades around me, leaving only glowing pieces of droid in my wake.

“How many commando droids is that now?” Rex asked incredulously over the radio.

“At least fifteen,” Ursa answered.

“Never seen that many in a single op, are the Seppies churning them out faster?”

My sabers blocked three BX droids assaulting me with vibroblades and I let out an omnidirectional Force Push that slammed them away from me into the walls, where they were easily rendered into chunks of glowing metal. “Perhaps, but something we’ll think about later. Do keep up.”

“Not making it easy, commander.”

I was playing vanguard simply because I didn’t want the bloody droids to get into a melee with my squads.

When we reached the main entrance hall of the temple again, we had no choice but to pause before moving out into the giant room.

Flanked by a further 12 BX droids and standing in a supremely unconcerned manner, was the clear, obvious instigator of all this.

“Oh, tsk tsk, do come out little Tano, let’s have a chat,” smirked Assajj Ventress.

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Shabla Jetii - fucking Jedi

chakaar  - scumbag, bastard

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading. Have a good weekend.