Author's Note: This chapter references characters and events from Karen Traviss' RepCom novel, True Colors and the Star Wars: Gambit duology, written by Karen Miller. All reads worth checking out.
Chapter Four: Debatable
"Between the stars, so much darkness there is. Why would I throw away one who burns so brightly?"
- Grand Master Yoda to Padawan Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy ("Scout")
The Jedi Temple, Coruscant, Core Worlds
Night had settled on Coruscant, though darkness was a relative concept to the ecumenopolis.
In the underworld, below the toxic wall of braze, the night never ended, but where Coruscant's spacescrapers pierced the clouds, innumerable lights - homes, speeders, signs, billboards, lightpoles - turned the night into a brilliant, neverending dusk.
From the summit of the High Council Tower, one had a breathtaking, three-hundred-sixty degree view of the sparkling spectacle that was the Republic's beating heart.
Hands tented before him, Jedi Master Mace Windu bent his head towards that pulse, a conglomeration of repulsor whines from the ever-present skylanes and the sonorous vibrations within the Force of a trillion sentient beings living together harmoniously.
More or less.
And more of less with every passing day, he admitted ruefully.
A throat cleared, the sound not quite apologetic, but with just enough hesitancy to suggest someone was already sorry to have intruded on the Chamber's quiet.
"General Zey." Windu glanced up to where the other Jedi stood by the tall, carved wooden doors, half in and half out of the High Council Chamber. "It's that time of the month again."
Zey's mouth twitched at the involuntary joke. "No rest for the busy."
Arligan Zey was a big man, with a big man's stride that ate the distance between the doors and the middle of the Chamber with ease. But there was a definite lack of spring to the Human's steps and more grey in his hair and beard than at last month's debriefing.
Watching him, Windu felt an answering pang of weariness. He could not even remember the last time he'd strode across a room with anything but determination contrived of duty and desperation. Energy didn't even factor into it anymore.
"I'd nearly forgotten how large the Council Chamber is," Zey noted with a quick glance around the empty ring of chairs. He tapped the marble floor with the scuffed toe of his boot. "The floor could use a polishing."
Truth, with just a hint of impertinence.
Windu settled back into his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as he mentally reset and focused on the situation at hand.
"A task traditionally assigned to Padawans, of which the Temple currently houses few." One dark eyebrow rose slightly in suggestion. "But if you'd care to volunteer your services, General Zey…" He deliberately trailed off.
Zey gave a courteous bow, the image of the dutiful Jedi. "Wish that I could, General Windu, however, conquering my inbox is currently taking up all the hours of my day. Perhaps if the Senate could contrive to assign more men to Special Operations….I'm sure those clones currently tasked to tracking down our misplaced troopers wouldn't object to a reassignment."
Windu barely suppressed a sigh. They had gone over this ground before, privately and in full Council, but Zey was like an anooba with a bone - he would not relent on the issue. And privately, Windu understood and even commended the man's determination. The revelation of squads of clone assassins hunting down and killing ARCs and commandos believed to have gone AWOL was….disquieting. The Council had launched an investigation, but it was one of many operations currently underway and the shadow of the Sith infiltrator loomed over them all. For now, the search for the Sith lord had to be the Council's priority.
Find the Sith, and we may unravel this web of darkness we're caught in with one sharp tug.
"You have the Council's answer, General Zey. The matter has been brought before the Chancellor and is-"
"- under discussion," Zey finished for him. "Yes, so you've said. Often."
"Then I will not have to repeat myself again."
Zey's broad face darkened. "I don't have the same luxury. Sergeant Skirata demands answers of me daily and he is not a man of patience - nor prudence. I'll have an all-out mutiny on my hands before long. And I can't very well dismiss the man; he's the only one capable of controlling those Nulls of his."
Problems, everywhere he looked. Windu reflexively glanced at the low meditation pad to his right, where Yoda had spent much of his time these past few decades. But of course, the pad was empty, as were the rest of the seats, save his own. The Grand Master, along with his fellow Council Members, were scattered across the Republic territories, trying to end this war.
Which left him to weather the siege of Senate, Chancellor and bureaucracy against the Temple alone.
Windu rubbed at his brow, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "When you took over office of Director of Special Forces from Master Camas, it was under the impression that you could keep your men in line."
The other Jedi tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robes, but not before Windu noted they were fisted. Frustration and exasperation hung about the Jedi Master like a cloud ready to burst.
Anger waiting to ripen, Windu reflected. And we all know where anger will lead us.
"The men - the troopers - aren't the problem," Zey said. "It's Skirata and the rest of the Cuy'val Dar. Corellians aren't the only ones who don't like to be driven. To be frank, trying to keep a Mandalorian in line is like trying to herd a swarm of tooka cats over the Agao Ranges in the pouring rain. One is always likely to slip away in the chaos."
"A colorful description." And apt, Windu admitted. The Council had not been in favor of recalling the Cuy'val Dar to active duty, but as with most things, they'd been overridden by the Chancellor's cool logic.
"We lost almost half of our ARC troopers on Geonosis. Half. And we're losing more daily. Our clone army needs to be the best if we are to win this war, and the Mandalorian-trained commandos have the highest survival rate in the GAR. Numbers don't lie, Master Jedi."
No, numbers did not lie, but neither were they the answer to his sleepless nights.
Heedless of his musings, Zey said, "The Mandalorians are a colorful bunch. Perhaps they could put the situation more adequately to the Chancellor than I can. Beige robes don't seem to make much of an impression in the Senate anymore."
Windu's mouth drew into a frown. "I can understand your frustrations, General Zey, but I will not tolerate an attitude more befitting a green Padawan then a seasoned Knight. Mind your thoughts - and your temper."
The Council Chamber was sparsely lit - all the better to allow the garish lights of Courscant's skyline to wash through the windows - so the scowl on Zey's face might have been a mere trick of the shadows. But the Knight did take a few, steadying breaths, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his rumpled robes.
Arligan Zey was a man who forever looked to be splitting at the seams.
Windu tested the eddies of the Force, disliking the wariness of his touch, but unable to help himself. Even here in the Temple, a nexus of the light side of the Force, he could feel the murky waters of the dark side just beneath the surface, waiting to pull the unwary down.
The dark sided clouded all these days and immersing himself in the Force was no longer the sweet, almost painful joy he remembered from his childhood. Now, even the lightest of meditations was a struggle to peer past thickening curtains. There was no clarity in the Force any longer and above all, Mace Windu hated the feeling of blindly groping his way forward, when so much depended on the decisions he and his fellow Council Members made.
If, he amended ruefully, they actually ever managed to assemble a full Council to reach a decision. Like Chancellor Palpatine, Windu and Yoda found more and more of the daily routines and responsibilities of governance thrust on them by those who were meant to share the burden.
When he'd judged that enough time had passed for Zey to regain his composure, Windu leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled before his face.
"The Chancellor has asked for an update on the situation on Garqi," Windu finally said.
Zey pursed his lips at the abrupt change in topic, but let it slide. The time for his personal grievances had passed; he'd pick them up later, no doubt, at his next monthly debriefing and then they would do this dance again. Both men knew it and neither was happy about it - not at the repeatability, nor about the inconclusiveness.
"Captain Maze has rendezvoused with Agent Varrak and the two of them are on their way to Nerrif Station. From there, they'll take a shuttle to a Republic outpost and change vessels. Agent Varrak," his lips twisted, as if he'd tasted something sour, "has a plan for getting past Garqi's planetary security, but felt it unnecessary to share the details with me."
Varrak. The name was familiar. Obi-Wan had mentioned the prickly agent in his report on Lanteeb in words that had been terse by his standards.
Windu cocked a single brow at the other Jedi. "One ARC trooper and agent? Will they be sufficient?" The Chancellor was not likely to think so; Palpatine was always urging the Order to commit more Jedi and resources, when they were already stretched to the breaking point.
"Captain Maze is more than competent," Zey replied with undeniable stiffness. "As is Agent Varrak." He hesitated a moment, then admitted, "Those commando squads I can trust to handle a mission of such delicacy are already engaged in other critical missions, as are all my other ARCs."
"The Chancellor wants this done quickly and quietly."
Zey eyed him carefully, as if testing the waters. "Perhaps if the Chancellor could convince Republic Intelligence to share more of the details, my people would have a better idea of what they're looking for. Searching an entire planet for one man is difficult enough, but for three decades worth of his research?"
"The Chancellor has made his feelings on the matter very clear. Secrecy is a top priority. We cannot risk another panic like after the attack on Hanna City." Even as he said the words, unease coiled in Windu's stomach. Palpatine had not taken the Jedi's handling of the Lanteeb crisis well and had since demanded more openness on the part of the Jedi, while keeping more secrets from the Council in turn. What had already been an uneasy relationship between the Order and Senate was now growing increasingly uncomfortable, if not downright hostile on the part of some senators.
"Then it's another bio-weapon we're after?" Zey asked.
"I don't know," Windu was forced to admit. "Suffice to say that this Doctor Kattic's research would prove harmful to the Republic."
"Then it would be best to send Quinlan Vos to Garqi as well." Zey had withdrawn his hands from his sleeves to stroke his short, greying beard in thought. "If there's a man to find a needle in a haystack, it's Vos, and he has experience in undercover assignments…"
"General Vos is already on assignment."
"Is there a chance to recall-"
"No."
Zey was silent for a long moment, studying the Master Jedi, before heaving a great sigh. "In that case…."
"Yes?" Windu urged when the other Jedi trailed off. "Go on."
Zey cleared his throat, shifting from foot-to-foot and plucking at the edges of his robe.
Windu could taste Zey's uncertainty on the Force: heavy and with a slight tang of green, like the humid jungle of his homeworld. Whatever was on the other man's mind, it did not sit well with him.
"If General Vos is unavailable, then I could….well," he cleared his throat again, wincing slightly over his own words. "There is always Commander Arhen."
Windu was about to open his mouth and tell Zey that he was mistaken, that Arhen was already deeply embroiled on Felucia, but caught himself. Commander Arhen, not General Arhen. The sister, instead of the brother.
His first thought to the suggestion was not a gracious one, though honest: You've got to be kidding me.
Zey must have seen some of this reflected on his face, or in the Force, for the other Jedi grimaced, but gamely went on. "The Arhen girl is unorthodox, I know-"
"She's one of Djinn Altis' people. That's a little more than unorthodox." Windu rubbed at his brow, where the headache was beginning to brew in earnest. "Does she even have any battlefield experience?"
"Not...directly." Zey brushed a stray strand of greying hair from his eyes, looking more exasperated by the moment. "We already have too many unseasoned officers on the frontlines; I didn't want to add another."
Windu's thoughts briefly wandered to Ahsoka Tano, Skywalker's young Padawan, quite literally in the thick of things and, invariably, to the Padawan Pack - dead in Jabiim's mud.
"Indeed," he said, so softly the sound failed to carry in the vast Chamber.
Zey obviously hadn't heard. "Commander Arhen doesn't have Vos' psychometry, but she's demonstrated a talent for finding things."
Windu tapped one finger against the other before meeting the other Jedi's gaze. "Tell me truthfully, General Zey, would you want her at your side in a battle?"
He was thinking of a dojo in the Tower of First Knowledge; of a tear-streaked, petulant face and words shouted in anger.
She defeated herself before ever raising her lightsaber to me.
Zey drew a hand over his face, tired and defeated and gave a sigh. "Honestly? No. She has skills, but she's…." The man struggled for the right words, before finally giving a shrug. "We can't all be Master Yoda. But the Order isn't exactly in a position to look a gift Jedi in the mouth. And what Commander Arhen lacks in battlefield experience, her clone partner has in spades. The lieutenant has been on Geonosis, as well as Atraken and Jabiim."
Geonosis with its red sands; the continual rains of Jabiim; the sorrow of Atraken. Two defeats and one dubious victory for the Republic and thousands left dead. No doubt the trooper was a survivor, but if survival was the best he could boast of….
Windu pinched the bridge of his nose, imagined his fingers doing the same with the ache lurking at his temples and pushed the pain away, back into the Force. "Is the clone any more reliant than she is?"
Zey hesitated….Hesitated too long and they both knew it. "He has experience-"
Windu cut him off. "More than your Captain Maze?"
"The captain is an ARC," Zey reminded him. "Lieutenant Wren is a regular trooper."
"That would be 'no,' then." Windu's jaw muscles worked as he bit back a sigh. The Chancellor would not be pleased, but…. "Your captain and Agent Varrak will have to suffice. It seems we have no other option," he added darkly.
Zey nodded. His pinched mouth and tightly drawn Force-aura told Windu the man was not happy about the decision, but hadn't expected anything else. "As you say, Master Windu. About Commander Arhen-"
"Keep her out of it," Windu put in quickly. He thought of the little girl who'd pleaded to become his Padawan, then crumbled in the face of the reality of her request. Bold, but unsteady...and dangerously unreliable. "I don't want Commander Arhen involved in the Garqi mission. At all. Understood?"
"Perfectly." Zey gave a short bow, wincing as something in his back gave with a soft pop. "Too many hours behind a desk," he muttered, pushing into his back with his hands and straightening.
Against his will, Windu felt a smile threaten to curve his lips. "Perhaps you would benefit from a visit to Master Vokara Che, General Zey."
Zey shuddered. "With all due respect to our Master Healer, I would rather spend an hour with Skirata and his grievances. At least he can only cut me to shreds with that knife of his."
"Whatever helps you conquer that inbox, General. Now," he leaned back in his chair, feeling some of the tension leave the Chamber and his own body, "let us continue with the debrief. What is the status on those Separatist droid factories and the phrik metal…"