This is more of an interlude chapter, it has a bit of flashing-back. Mind the datestamps!

Chapter 25: Fractions

Reformation Year 978.07.16
The Wissenswift

Jinn had warned him that the task was dangerous. He'd laughed; not because he thought the warning an exaggeration but because he knew so much better than the human how dangerous it might be. The wealthy never responded well to others investigating the sources of their prosperity, after all, and were fully capable of paying to shut down an investigation with little thought beyond the state of their possessions.

Kardin Lo eyed the multiple screens filled with fine-print text: numbers upon numbers, source codes running into the multiple hundreds. The humans - Jinn, Amidala, and the elusive Kenobi - had been wise to hire him. Despite Jinn and Kenobi's surprising skills in their investigations, their limited brains would have been hard-pressed to process so much information at once.

Jinn had eventually stepped back from involvement, claiming personal risk. Esquire Lo could appreciate the Jedi Master's caution, and had continued his work with Kenobi.

Oh, he knew who Kenobi was. As any good investigator should, Esquire Lo had looked into the human's background: his previous work as a Jedi and now posing as a mercenary harassing the Trade Federation had seemed curious. The strikes against the Neimoidians had created fascinating financial ripples which Lo watched with interest; with every attack, the human had retrieved databank information from the battlefield and sent it forward to Lo.

And yet, despite the ripples, the search had stagnated.

Esquire Lo had become increasingly frustrated with their inability to see beyond the closed loop of known accounts, until Kenobi had suggested a line of enquiry they had not previously attempted. In hindsight, Kardin Lo wondered how such an obvious connection had not already been investigated. The origination codes for the accounts paying so many actors had simply seemed insignificant.

Even the most insignificant pieces of data should not be dismissed. It was a cornerstone tenet of the Muun school of philosophical thought, and he was angry with himself for neglecting it.

He had retrieved the data, but his enquiry had been noted: the program he had created to monitor extraneous traffic had alerted him to a system watcher that had been triggered by his investigations.

Panic was not in Kardin Lo's nature, but he knew better than to linger, particularly after finding the system watcher had recorded his origination details.

Kardin Lo maintained backup files of everything; saving that day's work to a new datadisc had taken less time than he required to pack his essentials.

The Queen had offered him a room and office within Theed Palace. Esquire Lo had graciously accepted the offer, as the accommodations were satisfactory for his standards, but he had little faith in the palace security. They were only human, after all.

Now he sat in a quiet, empty pocket of space aboard his personal ship, pondering his next move.

His computer system in Theed Palace had been searched thoroughly - he had received a notification the moment he'd returned to realspace after that first hyperdrive hop from Naboo. He had bided his time, carefully erasing his data footprint and then painstakingly crafting a series of alternative IDs; it had required traveling to individual worlds and a combination of slicing and bribery to slip the crafted IDs into various systems on a post-date.

Taking a necessary risk, Lo had then gone to Scipio to access his personal bank account, withdrawing nearly everything in the form of unmarked credit chips which he had taken to a number of other banks and deposited into accounts tied to his new identifications. He suspected the individual following him to be a race other than Muun, given the slowness of their response. If they traced him to Scipio, they would not find the Banking Clans eager to share information.

While remaining aboard ship would make him more difficult to track, Lo knew it would affect his mental and physical health poorly - a lack of stable location would induce unhealthy levels of stress. Already the past year had left him twitchy with an anxiety he could not entirely attest to being tracked. He arranged for an apartment suiting his needs in Jygat on Mygeeto, prepared to become lost among his own people. His best hope for safety now would be to wait for his own trail to cool before reaching Kenobi; he would transfer a package of all the datadiscs he had filled in the course of his work and disappear back into the larger Muun population where lesser races were unwelcome. Leaving the job unfinished rankled, but Kardin Lo was no fighter, and unashamed to admit so.

Lo had left his personal communicator behind, its memory scrambled to uselessness, but it was not his only one. Only a fool relied on a single source of contact.

Reformation Year 979.10.18
The Sriluurian Jewel

Hondo was not preening. He was not. Merely...attempting to arrange a shoulder-draped half-cape so that it looked impressive without getting in the way of his movements. Standing in front of the mirror in his quarters in his new ship, he turned sharply, letting the grey fabric swish to show off the gold lining.

It was a very dashing look.

When Bastra had approached him about ruining Krayn's business, Hondo had accused him of being on the spice. The raider was powerful, and had serious connections; the moment they were identified, their life expectancies could be measured in days. No, his friend had insisted, there was a way to do it without ever revealing anyone's face but his.

The fact that the human had been willing to accept the bulk of the risk himself had been more reassuring than Hondo Ohnaka would ever admit. Bastra had gone out of his way to make sure nobody could be identified, from the blank-faced armour to renting an office so they could meet in private. It had been a most convenient place to deliver the armoured disguises for Bastra and his crew.

While some of the mercenary groups Hondo had hired on had opted to keep the armour Bastra provided, most of Hondo's people found it too confining for their liking; Hondo hadn't been fond of it, either. With the identifying paint stripped away, it had all sold well. The ships they had seized were part of the payment; Hondo had succeeded in keeping twelve out of the sixty highly modified raiding craft. They would all need a fresh coat of paint and new transponder codes, but that was a minimal price to pay for a small fleet; he was going to have to hire on more people! But he could afford it, thanks to Bastra.

The trick lay in keeping them flush with enough credits to stay. Minor raiding, hijack a luxury liner once in a while, perhaps. He would need a base more central to major trade routes than Takodana.

Abandoning the mirror, Hondo leaned over his astrogation charts. The Corellian Run was too well-policed. Hutt space had too much competition. The entire southern rim was lacking in fancy destinations for fancy people with fancy things. Stations were operated by others and had so many fees! It would need to be defensible, perhaps an abandoned asteroid colony or a low-population planet in the Mid-Rim?

He spent a while fussing over search parameters, rejecting most results outright for various reasons - too hot, too cold, dangerous wildlife, Republic-maintained colonies, Jedi temples….

One result caught his eye and Hondo hummed thoughtfully, running his hand over his jaw spines. An Outer-Rim mining colony along the route to Corporate space, lost in a sabacc game to a Hutt. The Hutt didn't seem to care what it produced as long as he got his cut of the profit - which was low to start with. Nobody would be fighting over it.

Hondo grinned and wondered if Bastra might be interested in a little side trip to Florrum.

Reformation Year 979.10.19
The Slave I

He should have let the matter drop. Some cocky mercenary in a Nar Shaddaa cantina probably wasn't worth the effort: the kid would either make it or end up in a shallow grave in the next five years.

But he'd had Montross' blasters.

And Jango's instincts about people had never led him wrong before.

The first thing he did was drop the running search for someone named Bastra - it was too wide a field. No, the kid had Montross' blasters, which meant he knew Qui-Gon Jinn - probably very well. Jango pulled up the dossier he'd built on the Jedi Master after the incident on Outland Station two years earlier.

Jinn's known associates list was extensive, but the result he needed floated to the surface immediately: Kenobi, Obi-Wan. Former apprentice. The profile holo looked dramatically younger without the beard and scar - but he'd been a teenager when it was taken. Jango started a HoloNet enquiry on Kenobi and let it run while he plugged the man's biometrics into the Bastra search. The additional information made quick work of that. Bastra's ident holo had a cybernetic prosthesis in place of his left eye, the scar fresh and barely healed, and a tiredness to his expression that had Jango frowning. That was the look of someone whose life had recently imploded, a weariness that begged for nothing more than to simply stop. He knew that feeling intimately; it had been a consistent companion for years, ever since Galidraan.

The man he'd spoken to on the street hadn't had any hint of that soul-crushing weariness. He'd been companionable with his crew, confident and genuinely flirtatious - hells, it had been a while since anyone had come on to him like that. It was mostly the reputation that kept them away. He'd called that child sweetheart, like she was his own daughter, despite her being obviously Zygerrian - that looked like a hell of a story there, too.

The Kenobi search was turning up a lot of HoloNet articles from Mandalore - Sundari, specifically - and he scowled at the holo clips of the other man clearly escorting their Kalevala-imported "Duchess" around. A number of crude tabloid articles speculated on their relationship, one in particular screamed drama about Kenobi meeting with another woman for a meal in Little Keldabe, and the discussion of his sudden disappearance was even more heated.

The words sudden absence caught his eye, and he refined the search. A single article traced Kenobi to Serenno, where he was assisting his 'grand-master' with some project or other. Jango dropped the datapad on the console with a clatter and leaned back in the pilot's chair until it creaked in protest.

Was that a coincidence? Or something more deliberate?

Of course he had noted Jinn's connection to Dooku immediately. How much did the Order know about Dooku's departure, his activities after? Had they sent the boy to spy on him, or to locate Vosa? Had Kenobi gotten too close to the truth and decided to vanish into the galactic underworld?

No, the Order would have taken Kenobi back, protected him. Why did he leave the Order? The public files were dry and contained nothing more informative than a dismissal date. That was the kicker: dismissed rather than departed. Particularly so soon after an impressive display of skill on Naboo, by all accounts. What the kriff had happened there?

Slicing the jetiise's databanks would be too much effort just to satisfy his curiosity when there was a much easier source available.

Kenobi - or 'Scogar Bastra,' as his new Corellian ID named him - was a puzzle, and a potential problem. Scowling, Jango dropped new information in and fired up another HoloNet trawl.

Reformation Year 979.10.20
Nar Shaddaa

Her Lord was going to kill her.

No. Be honest. It wasn't Sidious' way to kill his servants for their failures; either they died in service or murdered each other in competition. Torture, however, was not beyond him.

Caliiga considered herself fortunate to be well away from her Lord's grasp for the time being. Perhaps she could wrest some success from her failure and lighten her eventual punishment.

None of Sidious' acolytes cared much for his newest apprentice, Tyranus. The Sith Lord treated the Fallen Jedi as something akin to a pet, and they all quietly wondered if Tyranus was even aware of it. Maul's failure to eliminate a pest on Naboo had put the Zabrak out of commission, however. Caliiga liked Maul: he was brutal, efficient, polite and well-spoken without the flowery prevarications Tyranus favoured.

Tyranus, at least, had been quick to adapt when she had arrived on Serenno to track down his missing houseguest. Her Lord was her Master, her teacher and saviour, but he still misgendered her deliberately. She wasn't certain if it was to throw others off guard or to help her nurture her anger and hatred at being reminded of a past that wasn't hers. Tyranus had shown a bare instant of surprise before sliding smoothly into "my Lady"s, a reminder that he had rightfully earned his reputation as a diplomat.

She'd meditated in the room Kenobi had used, seeking the flavour of his imprint in the Force. All she had felt was muted presence. He'd been there for months, had departed mere days previous. There should have been something. Either Tyranus had done something to scrub the younger man's essence from his halls - doubtful, although if Caliiga found evidence the Count had helped Kenobi leave, her Master would be most displeased - or Kenobi had possessed the most intensive shielding she had ever encountered beyond her Lord Sidious.

The thought gave her pause. He was a failed Padawan, though, not even knighted despite the thrashing he'd dealt Maul. Ignoring the pain of his injuries, her friend had delighted in recounting how he'd felt the Jedi slip into the Dark side; she envied him that precious moment of satisfaction. Kenobi might have picked up a few techniques from the books in Tyranus' collection, but Tyranus had openly confessed to disappointment that the younger man had only seemed to temper himself.

Caliiga couldn't help feeling that he was hiding something. But this was Tyranus: she was a potential adversary and whatever secrets he concealed might have nothing to do with Kenobi.

"Tell me, Sister, what does our Lord intend to do with the boy?"

She'd nearly laughed: for humans, even a teenager was better described as a young adult than a child, let alone a man in his twenties. But Tyranus was old, older even than Sidious, and his perspective skewed by time. "He has not told me. I suspect he wishes to turn Kenobi properly."

The old man had shaken his head, frowning. "Kenobi has been resistant to the pull of the Dark side. I told him as much."

"Then perhaps our Lord sees him as a test subject. He has his sights on a number of notable young Jedi; learning how best to make them fail and Fall would increase the odds of success."

"Weakening the Order before the plan comes to fruition? I see." Tyranus had not seemed particularly pleased by that revelation though, and again Caliiga had the sense he was not telling her everything.

Unearthing Tyranus' cesspit was not her job; the agents in place among his staff, including his aide, had that task well in hand. Caliiga had left for the waystation in Junction to search their arrival and departure records.

She had already reviewed Kenobi's comm call to the Mandalorian Duchess. It was clear he knew or at least suspected Tyranus served a new Master, but he had been careful not to give the blonde woman any information that might make her a target. More of a target; Caliiga thought of her Lord's negotiations with Vizsla and chuckled. Watching Sidious set up his game pieces on a board nobody else knew existed was entertaining.

Kenobi had logged his next destination as Coruscant, lingered only a few hours - shopping, perhaps? Her Master would be delightfully outraged at having a target so close at hand - then departed for Corellia. He'd never landed there, though, and without a redirection notice, he'd effectively vanished. Finding which way he'd gone had required a miserably deep meditation on the bare sense she had received from his room on Serenno.

That was when the nightmares started: horrific visions that drove her from her meditation and vanished from memory once she'd come to, drenched in cold sweat and shaking. She'd tried three times on separate days, but her sleep in between was so fraught that she eventually gave up. If it hadn't felt so much like striking a shield, Caliiga would have thought she was being attacked.

Was it Kenobi, or something else? Regardless, his trail was lost.

Her Master hadn't wanted to warn her target by placing a bounty for his capture, but he'd said nothing of asking a bounty hunter's help.

"Wait, let me make sure I heard that right. You? Need my help? To find a target?" The other woman had cackled while Caliiga ground her teeth.

"Yes, Aurra, I need help. He faked out the Coruscant departures system-"

The bounty hunter had finished her drink and swiped the last of Caliiga's. "As any wise person should."

"I can't pin him down my usual way. It's like being haunted or something."

Aurra's eyes had sharpened over the glass; she'd set it down with a rattle. "Force-sensitive target?"

"Trained Jedi."

Aurra's smile was nasty. "You have my interest, sweetheart. It'll still cost you, but I'll cut you a discount."

They'd dug up a substantial amount of Kenobi's history, looking for a pattern in his behaviour. Finding out he'd left the Order once previously was an eye-opener, but also a clue that the man had the most illogical priorities ever. He just couldn't seem to stop jumping into other people's problems to fix them. Where does a Jedi with an over-inflated saviour complex go?

The Trade Federation and its allies were complaining to Sidious of increased mercenary strikes against their ships and facilities around Lok. Both Caliiga and Aurra thought it was just the Revenants up to their usual antics - the group's Feeorin boss had a hate on for the Neimoidians - but the misfortunes of the Karthakk system did match Kenobi's pattern. They had been in the middle of planning an infiltration into the mercenary group when one of Sidious' other acolytes, a Twi'lek with a head for tech named Tuuz, commed.

"Your last check-in put you south-east Outer Rim? How fast can you get to Naboo?"

Caliiga had wanted to scream. Instead she'd run the calculations and admitted she could get there in twenty-one hours.

At their Master's behest, Tuuz wore a dark wrap over his head that pulled his scarred lekku back in a way that was keenly uncomfortable; he'd been rubbing the base of his skull more than he normally allowed himself, his red eyes bloodshot from stress. "One of our slicer alerts tripped; if this information is accurate, it came from Theed Palace, itself."

"I'm not set up for that kind of diplomacy, Tuuz."

"It's not a diplomatic run, it's assassination. If you find the slicer still there, they must be silenced and their system destroyed. Be as discreet as possible, we don't have an ident confirm."

"What if it's the Queen?"

Tuuz had shrugged, baring sharp teeth. "Whoops?"

"I'm on it."

In the wake of the Trade Federation's invasion a year earlier, the palace's security had been upgraded. It still wasn't enough to keep Caliiga out, although slicing and looping the security cams had taken longer than she liked. The source was a private apartment and office in the residential wing - not the Queen, and Caliiga was almost disappointed.

She was more disappointed to find the apartment empty. Breathing the close, stale atmosphere of a room that had not seen proper ventilation during long occupancy, she had received impressions of recent activity, fear, determination. There was a whiff of aromatic smoke lingering, citrus-sour with a hint of vanilla, and a bit of dried leaf in a drawer where the cleaning droids couldn't reach proved to be gji. Their mystery slicer was a Muun with a legal narcotics habit, not a missing ex-Jedi, and while her Master would be less than pleased, she sent the results on to Tuuz.

"What kind of information were they poking that set off the alert?"

"Financial data. They looked up the origination codes to some of our shell accounts."

She'd frowned. "Which shell accounts?"

"The ones we ran through the IBC. Either the IBC has a hole, or our slicer is an independent operator."

"How vital is it that we eliminate them?"

Tuuz had rocked a taloned hand; Caliiga had always wondered how he managed a computer with those long nails. "They saw the codes, and any slicer worth their pay is going to record everything. In theory, they could determine the identity of the creator, but we removed that dangling thread shortly after the accounts were created."

"It's a dead end, then."

"That was terrible. Yeah, it goes nowhere. Whoever hired them is more important-"

"Their system was wiped."

"But not the Palace's, I'll wager. You'll need to break in again. Sorry." He hadn't looked it, though, and she'd cursed at him before closing the comm.

Aurra had been called away on a job, leaving Caliiga to infiltrate Theed Palace a second time on her own; she'd settled for slicing the system from the maintenance shafts. The Muun had been hired by the Queen's staff to help with a restructuring of finances to manage post-conflict recovery; there was literally nothing else. She did get his name at least, and basic identifying information, but Kardin Lo was now four days ahead of her and likely already ghosting from the system.

Kenobi, at least, still existed in public databanks; Lo's data footprint shrank rapidly over the next month. Caliiga had tried approaching the last known bank he had used, only to be sneered at despite her guise as a Republic Judicial investigator, and told her credentials were insufficient for her enquiry. It seemed the relationship between Judicial and the IBC wasn't as open as they claimed it was - likely the result of her own Master's work..

There was no indication that Lo's digging into her Master's accounts was tied to his work for the Naboo - clearly someone had hired him on the side, and who that had been was a complete mystery. With his bank accounts and comm records dissolved, the trail was dead. She went back to ferreting out Kenobi, pulling her stolen Judicial uniform back on to speak to someone whom the Mandalorian media had indicated was a close acquaintance.

Tovari Matsuuri had not been forthcoming regarding Kenobi. "I haven't heard from him since before he left for Serenno."

"Did he say anything at all?"

The other woman had shrugged. "Nothing Judicial would care about. He was experiencing personal doubts and hoped visiting his grand-master would help. Maybe it did, who knows?"

"How did you get to know Kenobi?"

"We worked on a freighter together, he was a hell of a navigator."

Which made Caliiga curse more, because that meant if Kenobi had a ship, he would be that much harder to catch.

Matsuuri claimed she didn't have a comm code for him, which seemed odd, but Caliiga couldn't deny what the Force told her. The Duchess probably had one, but when Caliiga approached Kryze, her staff denied her an audience and stated that the Duchess' personal matters were not open for discussion.

In hindsight, they'd probably thought Caliiga was a reporter. If she'd posed as a Jedi - she still had the robes from that last time, stuffed in a drawer somewhere - they might have been more open, but now they knew her face and she couldn't change the story without warping the minds of everyone on Kryze's staff.

Taking a chance, she tried meditating on Kenobi's Force presence again - she wished she could do the same with the Muun, but non-sensitives didn't have anything like the same impact on the Force.

The horrors she had experienced before didn't manifest this time, to her relief, but in the intervening year Kenobi had become more adept at shielding himself. She knew he was out there, but it was like searching for a single star against the background radiation of the galactic core. She tried triangulating his location, traveling from one end of the galaxy to the other, only to find that he was on the move. At least that told her he had a ship, but that just made it so much worse.

Caliiga destroyed a series of training droids to vent the rage and disgust she felt with herself. A failed Jedi and a Force-null Muun were making her look like an incompetent fool. When her Lord commed unexpectedly, Caliiga was fully prepared to have the life strangled from her.

To her surprise, he had a different task in mind.

"One of my allies has met an untimely end. You will go to Nar Shaddaa, my Acolyte, and tell me everything you can find about this 'Red Sun' which has destroyed part of my plans there."

"It will be done, my Master."

Red Sun had left absolute carnage in its wake. Whoever they were, they had cleared Krayn's tower out, scrambled the databanks entirely, and wiped out the T'surr's accounts. The few people left alive, mostly underlings, described an army of unidentifiable humanoids in dark armour.

Caliiga's interrogations were not gentle. From the mind of one of the survivors, she ripped a muddled impression of a pale-skinned human man with long dark hair and a scarred face. The trauma of the security guard's encounter with the man had left the finer details blurred, and Caliiga couldn't pull a complete image. She got a name, though - Gav Devine - along with the impression of the man doing impossible things, and a voice saying, "They're working for me."

Devine was a surname common on Onderon, Alderaan, Ord Cantrell, Bespin, and Concord Dawn; the accent was Mid-Rim and absolutely did not help narrow things down. She took her frustration out on the survivor, pulling out everything he knew about Devine before killing him.

It cost her an extortionate amount to find out that the Red Sun office in the Corellian sector had been paid for in truguts by a humanoid wearing a mask. It had been there for just over a month and then vacated the day after Krayn's fall. None of the people who had made use of the office had shown their faces, although it hadn't just been Red Sun people. They were coordinating with other mercenaries, it seemed, but the reception droid was pissy and there was nothing particularly notable about any of the individuals in the security footage.

She seethed, pacing. Possibility one: Red Sun was another cartel taking out its competition. Problem: nobody had stepped into the power vacuum. Possibility two: Krayn had pissed off this Devine, who either ran Red Sun or hired them to help him destroy Krayn's empire and salt the earth it had stood upon. Problem: Red Sun and Devine had appeared out of literally nowhere and vanished just as quickly. A group that size couldn't hide for long, and where Devine might have acquired enough credits to hire one was in severe question.

Possibility three: Red Sun were actually powerful enough to hide in plain sight, and Krayn had just been a minor nuisance in the way of something bigger.

The only thing bigger than Krayn was her Lord Sidious. This was a major breach full of dead ends.

Her Lord was going to kill her.

Reformation Year 979.10.22
The Jedi Temple, Coruscant

It felt so good to look like herself again. And to be around civilized people. And to not have to keep secrets anymore.

Well, not so much on the last one. Siri had taken the time during the journey back to Coruscant to meditate and tuck her memories of Obi-Wan behind deeper shields. If he claimed there were good reasons for not wanting his name involved, then she would see it done, even before the Council.

As soon as she had departed Nar Shaddaa, she had sent a message directly to Master Adi rather than risk having no response from her handler. Within three hours they'd had clearance for one of the repatriation facilities in the Chazwa system, and she'd left the liberated transports to the facility as a donation.

Now she stepped off the shuttle into a vivid Coruscant morning and realized how dearly she had missed air that didn't carry a constant reek of soot and petrochemicals. Wearing the most cosmopolitan of the street clothes she'd acquired over the past two years, she still raised eyebrows when requesting a speeder to the Temple.

Master Adi met her on the platform with a tight hug. They didn't speak for several minutes, simply sharing the familiar warmth of their Force presences, until Adi gently let go and leaned back, resting her hands on Siri's shoulders.

"It is so good to have you home."

Siri sighed. "I'd say I never want to do that ever again, but if the Council passes me, I probably will."

Adi smiled at her and turned, wrapping an arm around Siri's shoulders and guiding her through the tall double doors. A droid claimed Siri's bag, promising to deliver it to Master Gallia's room when she protested.

"Do I even still have a room here?"

Chuckling, Adi nodded. "Despite our display before you left, I never did clear out your room. Your things are packed, though," she added. "If only to make moving to your new quarters easier."

"You're that confident in me, huh?"

Adi's voice dropped as they entered the vast, echoing Grand Hall. "The Master of Shadows projected your assignment to last five years. You've succeeded in less than half that. We're all eager to hear your report."

"As much as I want to just babble everything right now, I'd rather only tell the whole thing once." She hesitated. "Is...is Bant in? Or Garen?"

"Reeft is off with his Master on assignment, but everyone else is here."

"I really, really need to see my friends again regardless of what the Council says." She touched the pouch at her belt, reassuring herself that the holoprojector was there. The Council would probably be less than thrilled with her for that.

They spent the short wait in the antechamber catching up on Temple gossip, until the chamber doors opened.

Siri took a deep breath. "Here we go."

Adi laughed as she took her seat; nearly all the other Councilors were in, and it was a full room. "We're not going to eat you, my dear."

"Oh, you say that now," Siri joked. She moved to the middle of the chamber and bowed to Master Windu. "Greetings, Masters."

"Padawan Tachi," he replied with a tired but genuine smile. "It's a relief to see you again. The Master of Shadows should be here any minute. How's your hand?" The Master of the Order nodded to the compression wrap immobilizing Siri's fingers.

Siri shrugged. "A few cracked bones that I mended when I had time, but the tendons are still stiff. I saw a medic at the Chazwa repatriation center, but I'll report to the Healers once we're done."

"My apologies, Masters, Padawan Tachi," a new voice said. A Weequay woman with extensive braids cascading down her back entered and took up a standing position beside and just behind Master Windu's seat. The Master of Shadows was the image of perfection, just as Siri remembered.

Siri bowed again. "Master An-chul."

Master Windu's face smoothed into his Councilor mask as the doors closed. "Now that we're all here. Padawan Tachi: you stand before us, declaring the completion of your Trial of Knighthood. For the record, please state the assignment you were issued and whether the objectives were met."

Oh, boy. "The assignment given to me by Master An-chul was to infiltrate the organization run by the known slave raider Krayn, dismantle it, and take Krayn himself in to face justice, alongside with gathering any data on his business partners. All this was to be done without any sign of Jedi involvement." She cleared her throat. "All objectives have been met, save one: I was unable to bring Krayn in alive."

A Councilor she didn't recognise, a male Gran - where was Master Sifo-Dyas? - harrumphed. "And how is it you failed this aspect of your trial?"

Siri glanced to Master An-chul for permission before answering, "Because he attacked and attempted to kill me, Master. I was forced to kill him in self-defense."

"Forced, you say! There is always a choice-"

"Let us hear Tachi's full report before casting judgment, Hakir," An-chul said mildly. The other Master grumped but muttered assent.

Siri waited a moment for any further commentary. It was an odd feeling to be standing here, both commanding their attention and subjected to scrutiny. "If I may?"

It took the better part of an hour to present her report, and her mouth had gone unpleasantly dry from talking by the time she was done. She had been right that a lot of the Councilors had not liked hearing that she had hired mercenaries once she'd been in a position to act. Master Piell, Master An-chul, and Master Yoda were the only ones who had accepted that revelation calmly. Siri reached the end of her recitation and removed the holoprojector from its case. "Before anything else, the leader of the mercenary company was kind enough to provide a report of his own. Do you wish to hear it now?"

Master Windu gestured with an open hand. "By all means, Padawan."

She placed the projector into the waiting slot among the floor tiles and stepped back. There was a pause while the chamber's systems accessed the message; a life-size hologram of Obi-Wan appeared, unidentifiable in the blank-faced armour.

The recording bowed; the gesture was just the slightest bit sloppy, a little too shallow and perfunctory, and Siri pinched her mouth on a smile at how much effort her friend had made to be unrecognisable. His voice was blurred and flattened from the helmet vox.

"Jedi Masters. I've been asked to make a report for your Council; unfortunately I am unable to meet you in person. I hope this will suffice.

"Before I begin, allow me to say that working with your agent was an enlightening and pleasant experience; she handled herself with professionalism and discretion. I am the only one who knows the truth of her mission, and you may rely upon me for complete confidentiality.

"Two months ago, your agent approached me with an offer of employment. I'm given to understand that this is unusual for Jedi, and I made certain to enforce among my people certain standards of etiquette so that our actions might not reflect poorly upon your Order. As per your agent's suggestion, I assigned one of my people to pose as your agent's companion and gather intel from inside Krayn's organization. The rest of my crew operated outside, causing minor problems. We posed as a cartel rising in competition, a ruse which culminated in the theft of Krayn's raiding fleet. We then used his ships to attack his allies, destroying Krayn's primary business connections and any chance they might slide into the Nar Shaddaa power vacuum. I would like it noted that a great many of the slaves claimed by Krayn have been sold to various buyers; the specific details of these transactions are in the hands of your agent.

"The entirety of our fee was paid from Krayn's finances; we are also keeping the ships we liberated. No additional acknowledgment is required. If you have additional concerns, I have provided your agent with a comm code that may be used to contact me."

Siri felt several sets of eyes on her, but the contents of the message were no surprise: she'd helped Obi-Wan write the script and had managed the recorder. Obi-Wan's disguised image was replaced by recordings of various media covering the aftermath of their handiwork; the media seemed to agree that it was cartel infighting, and an unnamed source from the office of Nar Shaddaa's king claimed they heard that Krayn had personally upset someone more powerful.

The recording flickered out and the shades over the windows rose slowly, letting the bright mid-morning sunlight back in. Master Windu was leaning on one elbow, his closed fist covering his mouth as he contemplated what they had just heard.

After a moment, Hakir's querulous voice rose. "Well, I must say-"

"The Master of Shadows, precedence in this case she has, Master Hakir," Master Yoda said softly.

Master An-chul bowed to him. "Thank you, Master Yoda." She moved into the center of the circle to stand on Siri's right. "I see a number of disgruntled faces. No, this is not how your standard Jedi on assignment would handle matters. However, it is how a Shadow on assignment would handle things. Siri Tachi has demonstrated resourcefulness, an ability to build a network of trustworthy allies, good strategic planning, and has endured much Darkness untainted. Despite her inability to complete all objectives, the most important of them were achieved effectively. It is my assessment that Padawan Tachi has passed her Trials of Knighthood."

"A question, if I may?" Master Piell asked. Siri turned to face him and bowed. The diminutive Jedi studied her for a moment. "You did not clear the use of mercenaries with your handler, and when you were on your way from Nar Shaddaa, you contacted Master Gallia directly rather than your handler. The chain of contact exists for your own safety; I would like to hear your reason for acting around it."

Siri straightened, feeling her face pinch into a frown. "Under normal circumstances, Master Piell, I would have used it. However I had received absolutely no contact from my handler in months." She could feel Master An-chul's astonished stare from behind her. "I was forced to make the decisions on my own, and particularly when trying to take hundreds of people to safety, I knew I would require the voice of someone with more authority to set things in motion."

"Unorthodox as they were," Master Windu said, "your decisions were solid. We will confer."

Master Adi moved to stand on Siri's other side, exempting herself from the discussion; her position had already been made clear, and she squeezed Siri's hand briefly. The sense of whispers just beyond hearing filled the room; despite her many years at the Temple, it still made the back of Siri's neck itch. The Gran Jedi sitting in Master Sifo-Dyas' seat seemed to be a strong traditionalist: tension built in his general area like heat shimmer. Siri schooled herself to calmness and waited.

After a few minutes, Master Windu cleared his throat. "It is the decision of this Council that Padawan Siri Tachi has passed her Trial of Knighthood with more than satisfactory performance. Master Gallia?"

Adi's vivid blue eyes glittered as she placed her hands on Siri's shoulders. "My years training you have been wonderful, exhausting, and frustrating beyond measure. You are so very stubborn, my dear. But you have also made me so proud on more than one occasion. It's been an honour to train you, and I can release you to serve the Order without reservation." She smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry you had to remove your braid for your disguise, but it had to be done."

Siri let herself grin as she reached into another pouch, one that had lain concealed among her belongings for over two years. "I did think of that, Master." She pressed the long coil of blonde hair, still bearing its beads and cords, the ends tied off neatly, into Adi's fingers. "I wanted to make sure you could have what you earned."

Her Master dragged her in for another embrace as pleased surprise rippled through the room. Siri was well aware of the tradition; slicing someone's braid off with a lightsaber might be impressive and require an incredible level of trust and skill, but it was just a bit too over the top for her. She was going to be a non-traditional Knight; she might as well set the precedent now.

Adi let her go and together they bowed to Master Windu and Master Yoda. Windu grinned and nodded back. "Congratulations, Knight Tachi. We want you to report to the Healers once you leave here. You have a week, plus whatever time the Healers recommend to recover. You've certainly earned it."

The Council had further matters to discuss and dismissed her. Siri made it as far as the anteroom before pulling her comm and sending Bant a message.

A hand brushed her shoulder. "Before you go, Knight Tachi, might I have a word?" the Master of Shadows asked quietly. Siri nodded and followed the woman into the lift and down several floors to An-chul's office. She introduced Siri to the two Jedi at their desks in the front room, an Ithorian Knight named Burrin and An-chul's Nautolan Padawan, Glynn; both made jokes about Siri adding to the amount of paperwork they dealt with.

An-chul led the way into her personal office and took a seat behind her desk; she held up a finger in a request for patience as she pressed a few buttons on her console. "Sorry, this room is swept regularly for bugs, but I like to make certain. The most difficult part of being a Shadow is that there is some information we don't tell the Council until after a matter is dealt with. The issue of your handler going silent is a bigger problem than I let on.

"You were assigned Knight Kvuurics, who was also based on Nar Shaddaa; it was hoped that, if you had an emergency, she would be able to assist you quickly."

Siri slumped back in the guest's chair, a sick feeling curdling in her stomach. "So my handler disappearing wasn't part of my Trial."

"Force, no, I wouldn't test you like that. You haven't got the training to address that sort of situation. Kvuurics's disappearance was noted three months ago and is still under investigation, but due to concerns that your drop was compromised, we couldn't risk using it to get in contact." An-chul shook her head. "I'm very sorry you had to endure that."

"I…." Siri sighed. "I want to demand to know why I was left in the dark, but I know why."

"I'll be honest with you, Siri: there aren't nearly as many of us as I need. I would prefer to send new Shadows out with a partner, but we simply don't have enough people for that." An-chul's heavily lined face peaked in a frown. "There just aren't that many Jedi whom we feel could withstand the Darkness of the less civilised parts of the galaxy."

"That's...that's worrying. Jedi used to be far more active and independent, or so I've read."

"Indeed. Our numbers are dwindling, and it doesn't feel like happenstance." The Weequay Jedi gave her a keen look. "Speaking of feelings, how did you decide to trust this mercenary? He had a lot of pretty words to reassure the Council of propriety, but didn't actually say much."

Siri chewed her lower lip, frowning. "I'm not sure how much I should say. He values his privacy."

"I'm familiar with the type. But consider that we could make use of such a person's services in the future."

Closing her eyes, Siri brushed the Force, seeking guidance. On this matter, however, it seemed there was no wrong choice; the Force was silent. She took a deep breath and hoped Obi-Wan would forgive her. "He's an old friend of mine, Master An-chu. Obi-Wan Kenobi."

An-chu's expression of surprise was almost comical. "Kenobi! He disappeared a year and a half ago and we've been unable to track him."

"Good." She nodded. "He's in hiding, although he wouldn't say why or from what. I gathered that he felt my life would be in danger if he told me more. He doesn't actually run a mercenary company, they're just people he hired to help me out. I wasn't introduced to anyone beyond the members of his immediate crew."

The Master of Shadows was drumming her fingers on her desk, looking disgruntled. "Now there's a Jedi I wish Mace had handed over to me rather than ejecting. The plan for this was still yours?"

Siri nodded. "The initial plan. If it had succeeded, we would have been able to bring in Krayn's entire command staff. It failed, mostly because we underestimated how much Krayn's security chief distrusted Kenobi. The backup plans were a combination of his planning and mine."

"Fascinating." An-chu stroked her jaw-ridge thoughtfully. "Would he object if we were to make use of that comm code?"

The strip of worn 'plast was tucked away in her belt; Siri dug it out with a shrug. "You can always send a preliminary text comm and see what his response is. He has several aliases now; that code is registered to one of them. Any investigations turning up 'Gav Devine' or 'Red Sun' should be considered connected to him. I doubt he'd ever re-use the names, but we might be able to make use of them."

"Noted." An-chu put the 'plast strip away and favoured Siri with a smile. "Now, unless I'm mistaken, you were going to the Healers?"

Siri grinned back. "Right away, Master."

Reformation Year 979.10.23
Kamino

Rain clattered off the metal of his armour, striking between the plates with enough force that it felt like being pelted with gravel. By the time he'd crossed the distance from the Slave I to the entrance, the outer fabric layer had gained another five kilos in water weight. The only things that kept him coming back to this gods-forsaken lake were the paycheck and the revenge.

Well, the legacy may have been part of it, too.

The unrelenting whiteness of the halls was near blinding after the murky deluge outside, but Jango would never submit to the urge to squint. His eyes would adapt in a moment and squinting wouldn't help that. He paused only long enough for a sharp directed downdraft to whisk the worst of the water into a drain underfoot before making his way along the gracefully curving corridors. He'd been back and forth from Kamino so often, the Kaminiise had long since stopped sending greeters. The latest progress reports would be on his desk already, anyway.

Bypassing the door that led to his personal quarters, Jango hit the lift and headed down. As much as he wanted to ditch the armour where it could dry properly, as much as he wanted to see his little boy's smile, some questions needed answering first.

The lounge was mostly empty - trainers were either on shift or bunked down - but the man he was looking for was there, sipping caff and scowling at a datapad.

"Latest scores?"

"Someone needs to fire their current coach, the performance since he took over has been abysmal," the older man groused. He dropped the datapad and rose to give Jango a proper greeting, forearm to forearm before pulling him in for a backslapping embrace, heedless of the damp that seeped into his shirt. "Welcome back, Jag'ika."

Jango slid into the seat across from him and leaned over the table, catching the older man's attention immediately. "Ran into someone on my last job. Human, male, ginger with a beard, scar over his left eye, maybe ten years younger than me. Core accent so clean you can taste the polish." He paused. "And wearing what looks like recent-issue Protector armour. So. What can you tell me about him?"

Cort Davin blinked in surprise, then bared his teeth in a grin.