the colors that you've shined
The Temple commons were warm and lively, filled with the chorus of jovial conversation and raucous laughter. Light from the setting sun filled the room with its golden glow as plates from the evening meal were cleared away. Bellies were full and spirits were high. This was the first time in Rozen's memory that the whole Temple was present for a meal. All of the missions had been completed with spectacular finesse, funding from Coruscant had been approved for continued and future missions, and best of all, all of this was achieved through no trivial amount of teamwork and camaraderie from the whole Temple. It had been an eventful year for Rozen. Two of her Apprentices had reached Knighthood, and she had made her own progress, training within the Force.
Rozen was pondering the miracle of strength and friendship when the floor shook with violent tremors. Drawn howls filled the suddenly silent room, and were quickly followed by hysterical laughter as a pair of Wookies emerged from behind a flipped table. Jiiscythe and Durotatha were grappling with mock ferocity, scraps of dinner flying from their gravy-matted fur.
Yes, even the Wookies were back.
Rozen was hovering groggily over the shoulder of the Zebrak who ran the night shift in the mission operations center, reading the screens as data slowly trickled in. A live holofeed was coming in from an offworld informant by the alias of Marren, and it had been flagged the highest priority. The signal originated from Hutt space, and that alone would have been enough to catch Rozen's attention. But if Marren's information was accurate, it could shake the foundations of the galaxy.
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Once the Rodian injected the Lagol, he could do things. Levitate chairs, see things before they happen, that sort of thing. I don't know how long it lasts, and I haven't been able to get many more details besides the fact that the Hutts seem to be sliming at the mouth to find out who manufactured this drug."
"And you're sure it wasn't a scam? He might have been a Force Adept trying to sell off sugar pills…" Jen'ari interjected cautiously.
"Maybe. But if we're wrong, it is going to cost dearly. I know what my gut tells me, and I think you need to investigate this as soon as possible. I'll send you the rest of the data I've managed to gather, but I doubt it'll be much better than a poke in the eye."
"It'll be a place to start, Marren. Thank you, as ever, for the risks you take to bring us this information."
"In service to the Jedi, as ever." Said the Bothan before she switched off the transmission.
The briefing room was more cramped than ever before. Jedi of every flavor were present, from the tenacious humans and the gigantic Wookies, to the insightful Miraluka and persistent Miralaini. In the center stood an impressive Ithorian Master, demonstrating on the holoprojector the latest topical data from Soro Suub Maps.
"The orbital support team will comprise of Jiiscythe, Durotatha, ZonRii, Thunderwalker and myself. We will provide observational support at every level – ground, air and space. On the ground will be three teams. Forward reconnaissance will be conducted by Arigorn and Kat'hari. Ground level research and analysis will be conducted by Octagon and Juvehil. Infiltration will be conducted by Jen'ari and Rozen."
"What?!" yelped Rozen, nearly falling out of the chair she was rocking back in.
"What?!" piped in Jen'ari's voice from over the intercom. "Master Grayson, I think your teams need some tweaking. If we're going to be infiltrating a gangbanger warehouse in the middle of Hutt space, wouldn't we want to hide the fact that we're Jedi? No offence Roz, but you kind of stick out in a crowd."
Rozen rubbed the leather band that covered her vestigial eye sockets, a trademark of her Force-sensitive species.
Jiiscythe erupted in a gargle of growls, and Durotatha chuckled darkly as he reached to the floor under his chair. His hairy hand produced a collapsible white stick painted with red bands and tossed it to Rozen.
"Why do you even have this?!" Rozen shot an eyeless glare at Scythe and Duro. Pretending to be disabled had gotten her out of a few sticky situations before, but she was never comfortable with the deception.
Snorts of laughter filled the room for a few moments before Master Grayson hummed for silence.
"You all have your assignments. Orbital team will report to The Vigilance and the rest will report to The Stillness in two hours. May the Force be with you."
Two heavy transports dropped out of hyperspace around the orbit of the Hutt colony, Nar Kreeta, one early spring morning. The Dug at the monitors was fast asleep in the chair, hot mug of tarbean tea spilling carelessly from one limp hand. There was only one being to notice the first ship start to enter the atmosphere, while the second slipped into stable orbit outside of satellite range. The Bothan checked the pulse of the Dug, and quietly slipped out of the room.
The Stillness completed its landing procedure three miles outside of the small port city of Qareh without incident. The ship was nestled on a dry plateau high above sensor range. Octagon and Juvehil were unpacking portions of the ship into a miniature version of the Temple's operations center. There was also a small lab for chemical analysis and small manufacturing of whatever might be needed for the mission. Rozen was surprised that it had been passed in Coruscant's budget committee.
A mile ahead, the Mirialani named Kat'hari and the Togruta, Arigorn were approaching the city from two separate directions dressed in the rags of desert nomads. They would not be out of place, with the dryness of spring bringing out their countless numbers in search of water. While the teams waited for any information regarding the strange 'Force drug', Jen'ari and Rozen reviewed the facts.
"So we know it comes in liquid form, most likely designed for direct injection into the bloodstream. I'd bet it is fantastically difficult to manufacture, or we would have had more than just this one report, if it's not a swindle. The affects are almost instantaneous, but it's still unclear how long it lasts, and how it exits the system." Rambled Rozen.
"We also know the Hutts don't have control of it yet. So who does?" added Jen'ari.
Hours passed as the teams prepared to discover the answers. High in orbit, a single ship revolved with silently furious activity.
Sparks flew from the tiny recess that was the access point to a long-range communications array on The Vigilance. Wookie howls followed the sharp odor of singed Wookie hair. The black-and-tan Wookie affectionately nicknamed Duro sat just outside of the recess, arms flopped lazily and a bored expression on his face. His brother, who everyone else referred to as Scythe, stuck his black-and-silver furred hand around the corner and gestured wildly. Duro handed him a hydrospanner without even looking, and Scythe chuffed impatiently as sparks continued to fly from behind the panel.
In the mobile operations center, Zon was busy pouring over all of the local data he could come by. Trade ships and passenger transport arrivals, cargo manifests and security reports. Qareh's local holonews streamed from a small monitor, its volume barely audible. Thunderwalker was deep in meditation in one corner of the room, searching the Force for signs of disturbances in the city.
The cockpit of The Vigilance was cramped to the massive Ithorian, Grayson. He preferred the presence of the living world beneath his feet to a hunk of metal floating in an ocean of stars. Letting out slow, thrumming sigh, he let his concerns slip away into the Force, and continued to monitor the life support statistics and orbital trajectory. There were a lot of pieces in play, Grayson felt, and it felt like he was being played. He had no real evidence of this, but he could not ignore his gut. He had a bad feeling about this mission.
The port city of Qareh was a canyon of rust and sand. The salt flats deposited by the ocean, combined with frequent sandstorms, left the city pitted and cracked. Kat'hari's mouth was constantly dry, and everything was starting to smell like dried spit. Her dialect with the nomads was just as rusty, which she managed to pass off as the side-effect of a year-long solitary sojourn. Her face was so smeared with dust and grime, she doubted they noticed the green tint of her skin.
There were apparently a very deep connection between these retreats of the desert nomads and the return to the city, and they accorded her deep respect from the people, as well as open access to news over the last year.
The nomads had been very busy, according to Kat'hari's new friend, 'Ammar. Another new gang had been setting up shop under the Hutt's noses, and had been using the Nomads as a smuggling ring to a distant outpost. They had a massive warehouse in town that they had heavily guarded, until recently, when they just closed up shop and left. Since then, things have been quiet in the city. 'Ammar had also lamented the increasing number of spice dens since their departure. Usman, his brother, had gotten himself hooked on one of the new drugs, and incurred a large debt to the den's grantor.
"New drug? Can you describe it to me?"
'Ammar chucked darkly. "It turned him into lead, though he swore he could fly. The Dhimmi here had a word for it. Lagol. Midisynth. We Badawe just call it Parai. False hope."
88888888
"Heads up, incoming link to Arigorn is patching through." Juvehil called out to the other Jedi in vicinity to The Stillness.
"Kat'hari - zzz - guru of Badwe Tri -zzZZ- going to investigate –z- lead to outpost –ZZZZZZzzz—Alhaiim smugglers."
Octagon frowned through his filtration mask. "See if we can't clean this up a bit. I think I know where he's heading, though."
"We've got enough to go on." Started Jen'ari. "I'm going to check out some of the spice dens and see what Womp rats I can't scare out."
"I've had Zon keeping an eye on the warehouses, and we've pinpointed a few that fit the description. We'll check them out after the spice den." Rozen said as she threw on a ragged poncho and extended the white-and-red banded walking stick, tapping experimentally along the floor.
Jen'ari took her by the back of the arm, as they started the long trek into town.
"Come on, Roz. We gotta make this look real."
"I don't think it requires me punching you, Jen'ari!"
"A Grantor's trust is hard to earn, especially when you look like a shiny undercover cop. Now come on."
"I really don't…"
"You remember when Scythe blamed you for his missing shilli cheese dog?"
"… yes."
"It was me."
WHACK
The gangliest looking couple walked through the cantina's door that Ranjeet had ever seen. The female was obviously cripple, but seemed to be half-carrying her male through the door. Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, and she looked upset and exhausted.
Great. Another mugging. Well, too bad for them, I'm not about to call Security for something this small. Thought the old Rodian.
To his surprise she simply balanced the male on a bench, Zabrak by the looks of him. Shouting into the fairly-empty cantina, she ordered a Gardulla and something stronger for the male.
Well, if they've got the money to spare… they don't look like they'd be much trouble. Easy marks, if they're as lightweight as they look.
"Take him around the back. You both look like you could use a few hours to glide."
As Rozen pretended to struggle with the weight of Jen'ari while tapping her way around the room, Jen'ari leaned in close and whispered in her ear.
"Gotta make this look real."
"Damn! What happened to him!"
"I don't know, I found him just outside the gate like this. I got worried when he didn't check in, and it's pretty much how I found him!"
"Get him inside. First medical bay. Juvehil, make sure you take a sample of his blood."
"You sure he's got enough to spare, Oc? He looks pretty beat up…"
"Look at him with eyes within the Force. He will be fine. It looks like we've received a message from the dealer."
Arigorn's mind spun wildly, and he felt like he had been run through a meat grinder, and that was just on the outside. Inside, his blood seemed to run like lead. Bile rose up his throat as he fought panic. Every time he tried to reach out to the Force, he hit a wall.
"No, no. None of that my friend." Octagon said reassuringly. "What you're feeling is only temporary. Just relax. You're safe now."
Arigorn winced as a needle pierced his vein, and then fell back into blackness.
Zon looked up from the screen showing the holonews the same time Thunderwalker came out of her meditation. On the news, a report of a virulent infection beginning to spread throughout Khalil, a small outpost just a few miles north of Qareh.
"Zon, I need a comm line to the ground team. Something's changed."
"Here." He said, handing her a headset.
"Juvehil? That outpost northeast of your position just had a massive disturbance in the Force… no, not death. More like, corruption. Yes. Yes. I'll keep my eyes on it."
Rozen was lounging in the cantina, nursing her Gardulla and giving Jen'ari a wide berth for his interrogations, when a middle-aged human male was shoved through the front doors. Following closely behind were two Gamorrean thugs laughing and taunting in a guttural language. The man cringed, and through the Force, Rozen could see he was badly bruised and severely dehydrated.
Pulling her cane forward, she started tapping the ground in front of her, as if searching for the source of the commotion. The Rodian gestured one of the Gamorreans to follow him around the back, while the other stayed with the man. With one meaty hand, he shoved him down onto a stool and hit him on the back of the head while gesturing a downward pointed finger. As the Gamorrean helped himself to the tap behind the bar, Rozen checked the time. If the Grantor and his ugly friend weren't back in 5 minutes, she was going to have to check in on Jen'ari.
As the man on the stool began to weep openly, Rozen decided to give Jen'ari 10 minutes. She had something else she wanted to take care of, first.
5