A million thanks to TimelessFolly and PurelyLoved for beta-ing my work. And thanks to all of you for your reviews, they make my day!
Abel was still getting used to the responsibilities of the Admiralty. He really wanted a drink, and to kick his feet up. But he needed to appear professional, as before him on the Holo was the liason for the Private Military Company, to whom the Scarlet mercenary belonged to. In Abel's office were Foster and the fleet's Chief Prosecutor. Abel resisted looking down at the file in front of him.
"Yes, I understand your concern," Abel spoke calmly.
"So that Jedi needs to be brought to justice!" The Liason blustered.
"The Brig has spent months investigating the case. Their investigation reveals that Cpl. Sakaroto was within her rights, and the death was justified," Abel said. The Chief Prosecutor nodded with him.
"Don't give me that. You're clearly biased for your little pet Jedi. Our PMC is going to conduct our own investigation." The liason made bombastic hand movements and pointed accusingly at them.
"We can't allow that," Abel replied.
"You let us or, or, or we'll pull our contract!"
"What, are you kidding?" Foster stood up, outraged. "Don't make bluffs you can't back up, little man! We're the only ones that'll pay your so-called warriors as much as they make."
Please control your sniveling underlings, Admiral. And educate them, too. Anyone in her position should know the Hutts would pay us much more. We're doing you a favor by accepting your contract."
"I-" Abel was cut off by Foster.
"-Oh, you're one to talk. I'm so glad you brought up the Hutts. Go ahead and try to get all uppity about a 'wrongful death' with them. Those slugs will feed your men to to a sarlacc out of boredom! Take your business there, go ahead! See how much of a shit we give!"
By now, Foster's face was inches from the liason's holo. The liason was silent.
"That's what I thought, pearl-clutcher. Let this go if you know what's good for you." Foster stepped a few steps back.
"You don't tell me how to do my job," the liason retorted weakly, but stubbornly.
"Listen," Abel tried to mediate, "we're you're biggest, safest contract. I've reviewed at least four reports from his past. Your guy has a history. Even now, investigators are interviewing witnesses and potential victims. He was in the middle of committing an extremely serious crime, and what she did was legal. It isn't wise to risk this contract over someone who is clearly not worth defending."
"We disagree," the liason said.
"You disagree? Really?" Foster, who had clearly taken charge of this exchange, pointed to the Chief Prosecutor. "Tell him how wrong he is."
"Republic Naval Regulation Section 161.219, ma'am. Mirrors the Civilian Code."
The CP then read from the law, "A person is justified in using deadly force when the person reasonably believes another person is committing or attempting to commit a murder, rape, robbery, burglary of a dwelling, or any other felony involving the use of or threatened use of imminent physical force."
"Exactly," Foster continued. "You and your legal team have a copy of the Jedi's report, the victim's statement, and the other reports from your guy's past. Oh, and the Dishonorable Discharge from the Corellian Planetary Defense Force for, you guessed it, sexual assault. So answer me this: is this a hill you really want to die on? You want to get into a legal battle with the Republic bureaucracy? Over this? Defending this lowlife?"
Silence from the other line. The Liason's posture went from confident to slouchy.
Abel spoke again, miffed at Foster's outburst. "I suggest you pick your battles a little more wisely."
"I'll... I'll discuss it with my people."
"Thank you for your reasonableness," Abel said. He stared at Foster, who was breathing heavily with rage.
The call ended and everyone tried to relax. Abel rubbed his forehead, finally able to show signs of his stress. He exhaled deeply before saying, "That Jedi had caused us quite the headache."
"She did no wrong. That man deserved worse than what he got," Foster defended.
"The situation isn't pretty, on either end. Was there a violation of law? Maybe. Even if we decided to charge it, proving it is a whole other story. I can't imagine a prosecution against this Jedi. Most people, myself included, think she was justified. She presents as a highly sympathetic defendant. If we charged it, well, uh. All due respect, sir, I wouldn't want to handle that case," the CP mediated.
"That's not my concern," Abel said. "She's developing this pattern, she's turning into a loose cannon. We don't like Jedi who are loose cannons. It tends to result in problems on a galactic scale."
"I respectfully disagree, sir," Foster cut in. "She's a stellar soldier and is doing what's right, no matter the cost. I don't think it makes her a loose cannon, and it's certainly no reason to punish her."
"You and I have a much different level of trust in her judgment," Abel leaned back and clasped his hands over his chin and lips.
"You trusted her enough to recommend her for command of a cruiser." Which was true. Abel had recommended Meku to captain the Hearth. Which, of course, would pave the way for command of a larger ship, then a flotilla, and then eventually a fleet. She wasn't the only one; many Jedi were climbing the ranks into command positions.
"Not anymore. Not after what happened. I have since withdrawn my recommendation."
"Damn it, she did nothing wrong! She deserves a command position! She earned it! Why are you holding her back?"
Abel stood up. "Address your Admiral with respect!"
An awkward silence ensued before the CP spoke uncomfortably. "Do you still need me, sir? I've got some motions to write."
Abel waved her off, and she scampered away. Foster continued. "I'm sorry for the outburst, sir. But she secured victories at Bespin, Duro, Randon, Hoth. She surrendered Mandalorians. That isn't enough for you?"
"I'm still concerned. Once my concerns are properly addressed, I would be happy to reinstate my recommendation. If we have concerns for normal soldiers, we have plenty of resources available for them. The Force is having an effect on this, I'm sure, but we have no Jedi-centered resources to lean on."
"True. And it's not like we can just call the Jedi Order like we used to," Foster agreed.
"Exactly." Abel was surprised and relieved that she agreed with him for the first time today.
"So what's the plan?"
"I know someone who knows Jedi very well. Let's call him in."
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Already granted, Sergeant DeVore," Abel responded.
Jimny exhaled and hesitated before answering. He was alone with the Admiral. He much preferred talking to superiors with other people present. And 'permission to speak freely' never meant you were allowed to actually speak your mind. Superiors would still get pissed off and even hand out punishment if you said something that offended them, despite being given 'permission to speak freely.'
"She harbors a lot of hate for the enemy. You know those wizards, they have a thing about hate."
Abel knew any soldier would be nervous talking one-on-one with the fleet admiral. It usually meant they were in trouble, so as a result, they generally shut up and spoke only the bare minimum of words needed. This was no exception. Sgt. DeVore had given a safe, vague, completely unhelpful answer.
"Are you saying she's evil?"
"Not at all, sir! She just wants to help people, help the Republic, you know? Sometimes she even shows regret for what happened with the merc."
"Has she?"
"She's like that. Always critical of herself, trying to be better. Her intentions are good."
Abel was growing tired of this. Foster had a better relationship with this coarse grunt, but Foster was too hotheaded, and Abel didn't trust her to approach the issue. "Her intentions are good, but?"
"Well..." Jimny rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't want to get Meku in trouble or anything.
"Well, what?"
No response. A minute of silence passed before Abel stood up abruptly, sending his office chair backwards.
"Listen, grunt. I'm tasked with protecting this fleet and the Republic. If there's something about your Jedi friend that is of concern to the security of the Republic, I demand to know about it forthwith. That means right now, by the way."
"I know what it-"
"-And if it ends up this Jedi is a security risk, and you knew, but didn't tell me because you were too busy pussyfooting around in your Admiral's office like a shy schoolboy, the consequences will be doubly worse for you! Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?" By this time, Abel was leaning over his desk and pointing aggressively at Jimny.
"Crystal, sir."
"Then we begin one last time. Give me the truth."
Jimny exhaled deeply. "I believe there is potential for Sakaroto to go red, sir. To turn to the dark side."
Abel's eyes widened. He had his suspicions, but never wanted to believe. He, like most, grew up thinking the Jedi were infallible. "Never meet your heroes..." He sunk back behind his desk, his strong body stance now going weak.
"But you said she's not evil. How does that work? Aren't all Red Jedi evil?"
"Not necessarily, sir. The Dark can take over the most well-intentioned people. I'm not a Jedi, I'm not a shrink, I just worked with Jedi before, so, you know, grain of salt and everything."
"I'm well aware of your history. Continue."
"I, I know that it starts with hate, and that transitions to a lust for power. Usually for a good reason, like protecting people, or stability, or order."
"And then?"
"Then they spiral away. I dunno know how it works from there."
"And is this 'spiral' happening?"
Jimny just nodded. He felt ashamed. He could see the signs but wanted to have faith in her. He had to confront it now.
"Regardless of their intentions, Red Jedi are dangerous to the galaxy. We know what happened last time," Abel affirmed.
"I remember." The memories played out on Jimny's face. Exar Kun's Brotherhood had been "officially" defeated a century ago, and the Jedi Order dropped out of the fight. The reality was not so; multiple Brotherhood Cells still existed across the galaxy. While the Order rested on their laurels, the Republic Navy continued the fight for over eighty years. A few volunteer Jedi would aid the Navy, working without the knowledge of the Council. Jimny was a veteran of these silent campaigns, and worked with several Jedi in this capacity.
"What do we do?" Abel started to feel cold.
"In the old days, we used to just call the Order and they'd come and assist. Meditative therapy, whatever magical mumbo-jumbo they do. But the Order's changed since Kun. Even if they were still friendly to the military, they'd treat her like a criminal. They'd prolly send a squad of their own to arrest her."
"We can't let that happen," he replied abruptly, "She's invaluable to us."
Jimny kept a straight face, but his fists clenched ever so slightly. Yes, Abel was technically right. Every soldier, sailor, and Marine in the Republic were expendable assets that could, and should, be disposed to ensure the Republic's survival. Meku included. She was one of the most powerful weapons Abel had at his disposal. Jimny couldn't help but suspect that the Brig's investigation was influenced by the desperate need for her on the front lines, rather than inside a prison cell. Still, she was more than an asset to him.
"I agree. We can't give her back to the Jedi. She ain't a criminal. She ain't a bad person either. We may still be able to guide her to the right path. I've worked with enough Jedi to learn a couple things."
"You've seen a lot. For your rank, that is."
This stung. They both knew Jimny should be of a higher rank considering his training and experience. Abel loved to gloat about it, and even now, he wore a brash smile.
"But enough about the past," Abel continued, "Do you have a plan?"
"Sort of."
"Sort of? You don't sound very confident."
"I'm not."
Warron had received the dossier weeks ago. He recognized this name - this was the woman who gave them the intel about that Mandalorian deserter on Alderaan. Apparently, he was to observe her while they worked together on this mission.
He waited in the briefing room with Elaina and the rest of his Jedi-only squad. Warron made small talk with the pilot, Vanci, while Elaina and the other Jedi spoke among themselves. The pilot was friendly, if a bit goofy. Her astromech was in severe need of a memory wipe. Then, he felt it.
It was like a weather station sensing a typhoon incoming. The Force whirled around this being like very few he had ever sensed before. His purpose to observe her was starting to make more sense now.
In walked, well, someone he was not expecting. The typhoon was actually a short, wiry woman with white hair. She was flanked by three men; a Zabrak, a Duros, and another human. They were all armored in the Republic's prototype full-body armor.
He sensed conflict within her. Darkness was brewing, and clouding the light within her. He could sense little tastes of contempt, hints of wrath. And from her comrades, fear combined with faith.
"Oh wow! Hi," she exclaimed, surprised. And there was the light. She seemed starstruck to see more Jedi. He could feel it in her core. She was good-natured, with an intense passion to help others. The darkness in her had latched to that desire.
"You must be Cpl. Sakaroto," Elaina responded, taking the initiative. "I am Captain Elaina. This is my team; Warron, Nateli, and Nisotsa." Elaina gestured to a young, dark-haired, olive toned human woman, Nateli. A toned, tall, muscular male with one eye and a prosthetic left arm, Warron. And a woman with fair skin and chin-length blond hair, Nisotsa.
"It's a pleasure, ma'am," Meku responded, at attention. There was a bit of an awkward silence as Meku was not sure what else to say.
"This is my squad," Jimny took over. "I'm Sgt. Jimny DeVore. Meku, looks like you know 'er. This is Brax and Oka. Everyone make nice."
"Don't I know you?" Warron asked Jimny, with a bewildered expression.
"Mop-up operations against the Brotherhood. Sith Lord riding on a Mando cruiser. One'a my first ever missions."
Warron's eyes became sad. Meku could feel a close, personal loss within him. It must've been a bloody, costly battle. Elaina wrapped her arm around Warron's waist to comfort him. Meku was taken aback, she could sense the intimate, deep attachment between them.
"That must've been almost thirty years ago," Warron replied after a moment.
"You ain't aged as shitty as I have. You don't look anything like, what, how old should you be, saber-swisher? 50, 60?"
"I moisturize daily," Warron teased, winking. "Lots of Foran spice and Korja butter."
"Whatever, sissyboy. I wrinkle like a real man should. Try bathing in Sith's blood, it keeps my skin tough as hell."
Warron and Jimny continued their mutual trash-talking, others made small talk, while Elaina seemed to take a special interest in Meku. "Usually our kind sticks together. Are you the only Jedi on the ship?"
"No, there's a pilot, Neff Vollmar. We don't talk much. There were two others, but they're... gone. Honestly, sometimes it feels like I'm the only Jedi in the galaxy sometimes." Meku stared off. It was hard to believe she was even a Jedi anymore.
"I'm pretty much not."
"Understandable. I'm sorry to hear about your friends."
"It's whatever. I'm sure we've all gone through it." Meku tried to downplay her experience. Surely these Jedi must have had it worse than she did. She considered herself very lucky.
"And you were a Padawan when you joined?" Warron asked.
"Yeah. Seems like a lifetime ago," Meku responded.
"To learn so much on your own, with no Master, must have been difficult," he comforted.
"I have Sarge. He's a great teacher!"
"He's no Jedi," Elaina cut in with a condescending tone. Meku sensed a twinge of bitterness from Jimny. "We can teach you much more than he can, in the course of this mission. Whatever it is. Have you been briefed on it, Meku?"
"No ma'am. I thought you were."
"We are just as blind as you are," Elaina spoke with concern.
"Usually means it's a real serious mission. The top brass don't hide the ball 'less it's a top-secret kind of thing," Jimny brought his wealth of experience into play.
"I would've considered myself top brass," Elaina mused.
"There's always a bigger fish," Jimny responded with the old Jedi adage.
Later, the room went dark, and Revan himself appeared on the holo. He wore his armor and mask, as always. Everyone snapped to attention, saying "Supreme Commander, sir!"
"At ease," he said. Revan wasted no time and got straight into it. A galaxy map appeared by him. "As you know, the Mandalorians are adjusting their technology and tactics to counter the presence of Jedi on the battlefield. They have used many new and creative weapons such as flechettes and sonic weapons. Worst of all is toxic gas. The most dangerous is called the Kyr'vhipir KV-13. The Death Mist.
This is a cruel and vicious weapon. Symptoms include closing of the airway, muscle spasms, extreme pain, and bleeding from the pore. It also causes blood vessels to repeatedly expand and constrict, leading to stroke and other extreme internal damage.
The worst part is that KV-13 operates not on inhalation, but on skin contact. Therefore, Breath Control and rebreathers are no defense. The only way to survive contact with KV-13 is a non-permeable full body covering.
Usage of this varies by clan. Some clans view it as a dishonorable weapon. Most have no such qualms.
A small city or a battlecruiser can be extinguished with enough KV to fill a canteen. In fact, the Proconsul, a Centurion-class, was victim to this. Mandalorian saboteurs circulated the KV into the main ventilation, causing all thirty five thousand aboard to die. The enemy has used it against both civilian and military targets with extreme effectiveness.
Many thousands of soldiers, civilians, and Jedi have fallen prey to this weapon. We are, for the first time, being pushed back. Analysts have been unable to create an antidote. However, they were able to determine the ingredients. The main ingredient, thankfully, is exceedingly uncommon. It comes from the Yira Nightshade, a plant which can only be found on the far northern areas of the Gidora plains in Vanquo.
Our intelligence reports that the Mandalorians haven't tried to grow it anywhere else. Yet. Therefore, time is of the essence. You shall go to Vanquo. On the Gidora plains is a refinery where the Nightshade is turned into the active ingredient and weaponized. That is all our spies have been able to say. Where the KV is stored, and how much they have in reserve, is still a mystery.
You have two objectives. First, destroy all known Yira Nightshade plants. Second, destroy the refinery. You also have a tertiary objective: find out where the KV is being stored, and anything else of importance. You are authorized to accomplish those objectives by any means necessary. Any questions?"
"Sir, no sir," most of the operatives barked.
"Good. I trust in your resourcefulness." Revan pressed a few buttons nearby before continuing. "And you will have some new resources to give you the edge in combat."
On cue, Commander Foster walked in with several of the Quartermaster's staff. They carried big plasteel cases.
"Supreme Commander, sir," Foster saluted.
"Commander," he replied. "Go ahead and show them the new toys. May the Force be with you all. Revan, out."
Meku felt giddy, as she always did with Revan. Foster spoke while the QM's assistants set up some mannequins.
"Alright, softies. The buckets aren't the only ones capable of inventing new and creative ways to kill the enemy. Yulesday came early this year. Enjoy."
The operatives crowded around the plasteel cases, curious.
"We'll start with melee weapons. For thousands of years, the vibrosword was good enough. No more. Beskar will break any sword before being penetrated. So, why penetrate it?" She pulled out a stick with a ball at the end. The ball had some sharp ridges or flanges lining it. "Welcome everyone, to ancient days. This is a vibro-mace.
Foster smiled evilly. All the Jedi could sense her excitement. She sauntered over to a mannequin. It was armored in what looked like scavenged Beskar. Foster struck the mannequin square in the chest with the mace. The thud could be felt in the chests of everyone in the room. The powerful strike had put a serious dent in the armor.
Meku analyzed the hit. For all its wonders, Beskar seemed vulnerable to blunt-force trauma. Her medical knowledge came into play; if that had been a human, organs would be ruptured and bone shattered. Meku's comrades started to get giddy. The war had dragged on and, all that time, the Mandalorians had the advantage in equipment. Finally, the Republic was catching up. Finally, they could go toe-to-toe with the insects.
"Oh, there's more. Pick up those jaws and pay attention. Next up is the Halberd. The joints and gaps between armor plating are the weak point. With this, you can chop up the enemy at the joints, like a crustacean at a fancy restaurant. It's collapsible, which means it doesn't take up too much room when you're in ranged combat. But if entering melee, you can keep the enemy at a safe distance while you dismember them."
She fished for the next item, pulling out what looked like a scythe or ice pick. "This is a fun one. It's main purpose is to disarmor the enemy, though it'll be just as effective through the skull as a vibrosword. How does it disarmor? Well, thanks for asking. I'll show you."
She approached another mannequin and swung downwards, again at the chest area. The ice pick buried itself between the dummy and the chest plate. With a forceful yank, the armor plate was shorn clean off, flying behind her. "And now your squaddies have an open shot. Or..." she swung again, this time burying the ice pick right in the dummy's chest. "Do the job yourself."
Warron raised his hand like a child in class.
"Yes, metalman?"
"Do we get a bow and arrow? Slingshot too? Maybe some rocks we can throw?" He wore a cocky grin. Nisotsa and Nateli chuckled.
"Wow, we got a comedian. You wanna know what we do to smart-ass kids?" Foster reached into another box and pulled out what looked like a bulky grenade. She armed it and tossed it at him. "Catch. It's live, by the way."
"Very funn-" Jimny was interrupted when Foster, her team, and all of the new Jedi scattered.
"She's not lying!" Meku shouted. She tried to Force-push her team away, but it was too late. Strangely, the grenade didn't blow up. But then, they felt the floor leave their feet.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Foster was unfazed as weightlessness overcame the operatives. "Gravity grenade. Uses a small repulsor-field to lift and immobilize everything within a five meter radius." Despite scattering, most of the operatives were caught by it. "The weightlessness lasts thirty seconds. I trust you'll use that time to your advantage."
The grenade shorted and sparked as it ran out of energy. They all fell unceremoniously to the floor. The landing hurt.
"Ow!" Warron cried out.
Foster walked over, leaned over him, and smiled. "Are we gonna be a smartass with our superiors again?"
"No, ma'am," he sheepishly admitted.
"Good boy. Up, there's plenty more to be done."
Foster showed them several other tools. Personal energy shields, netting, zip cords. The squad was also re-armed with new blasters that sacrificed power for accuracy. They had hyper-advanced scopes with droid brains, all in the name of targeting between the armor plating.
"Now, time for the grand finale." Foster seemed proud of herself. She pulled out what looked like a thick, cumbersome, rolled-up rug made of metal squares linked together. "Pop quiz, why is our armor made of plastoid?"
"It's the most cost-effective way to absorb and disperse the energy from a blaster round," Meku answered.
"Good answer. You could also just say the Republic is cheap. What about Beskar, what's it made from?"
"'Mandalorian iron,' a metal found only on Mandalore and its moon, Concordia," Elaina replied.
Foster nodded. Without explaining, she then unfurled the rug and stuck it onto a nearby wall before running clear to the other end of the room. She pulled out a remote. "I suggest you all hold on to your weapons, real tight!" She pushed a button on the remote. The operatives felt a powerful pull against their weapons, belts, and any other metal that was on them. Even some coins in Brax's pocket strained against his clothes. Warron's metal arm shot forward, and he had to use the Force to keep himself from flying across the room.
The half-dozen or so mannequins sailed across the room and stuck to the rug. Oka and Nateli lost their weapons, Meku and Elaina had to use the Force to tug them back. It was difficult, this rug was extremely powerful.
"We call this the Flytrap. Hypermagnets will trap any bucket bastard nearby. But that's not the only trick its got. The Flytrap's controller has two buttons. This blue one activates the magnet. The red one, here, detonates it. It'll explode with enough power to make a hole in a starship's hull. Use it wisely!"
Foster pressed the blue button again, and the magnet shut off. The mannequins clunked to the floor. "Now let's load up and send you on your merry way."
The operatives took their pick of the new equipment.
"Just because you got all these shiny Yulesday presents doesn't mean there's no homework. I expect detailed reports with your feedback on the new equipment. There will be a new shuttle waiting for you. Good luck, and may the Force be with you."