Shadow of the Phoenix
Pain We Maintain
The room was dark and hot. The sound of a siren whistle could be heard in the distance over the howl of the heat storm. It pelted the stone edifice of the building with searing bits of wind-whipped sand. A crack and rumble of thunder vibrated the room.
On a firm bed in the room's center, a young girl screamed out in fear. She thrashed about and cried, tugging on the fetters bound to the four corners.
Chanting echoed off the walls. Where was she? Where was mama? Craning her head she could see her mother amongst the choir – she looked so happy and… proud.
Then He came.
Her nose crinkled as the smoldering incense twined with the acrid smell of sweat and smoke. There was a time when the smell reminded her of family and the camping trips they took. But now it was a corrupted thing.
She closed her eyes as He climbed onto the bed, His silken cloak falling to the floor to reveal His shame. She pulled again on her bonds as His calloused hand caressed the short lekku of her head, they were underdeveloped and the tips were colored green from the bitter drink.
He joined the prayer, holding a dagger in His hand.
She closed her eyes and screamed as the blade bit into her skin. Warm blue blood flowing from the shallow cuts as He drew flowing pictograms and symbols on the young canvas.
The chanting became louder as the choir drew closer. Each held a lit candle in their hands and wore a hooded robe that split down the center, revealing the naked forms of women – her mother included. Strange laughter reverberated inside the chanting – deep and malevolent. It vibrated her core and the bed became like leather. Glancing to the side, she saw the face of an amused hutt – its mouth agape and its tongue curled under her rump and ended in… Him.
Was it even real?
He licked the blood from her chest and neck. The curves of the Ryl abugida smearing along His tongue as He traced up to her ear-cone, chanting the names of the Sleeping Gods alongside the choir. She tried to focus on something else – anything else – but everywhere she looked there were pious eyes upon her.
She closed her eyes and prayed to the Silent Goddess as well. To save her from this most devout follower. Please help me, Ko'm'san!
"Grant us your blessing, Ko'm'san!" He beseeched of the air.
He thrust forward and she screamed. Pain filled her senses and warmth filled her mind. Through bleary eyes she saw a girl in the corner clothed in regal garb and wreathed in blue – older than she, but not an adult. And around that girl coiled strings of light. What were these lights? What did they—
He pulled back and thrust forward again. Shame and pain was all she knew… and the strings responded. They coiled around His body and drew taut.
And then there was nothing but noise as He and the choir fell – before the room was consumed by silence.
All that was left was a pair of frightened girls – one young and broken, the other long-dead.
Numa sprang up from the silken sheets with a frantic scream. The Force responded with a pulse that threw everything away from her in a wave. Her heart was racing and her nerves were on fire. Phantom pains called out to her from her loins. The dream felt so real. It felt… it felt… What was the dream again?
Tears flowed from her eyes though she knew not why. There had been a nightmare, she was sure of it, but she couldn't quite remember what it was. The weight of it was suffocating. She sobbed and cried as she curled herself into a sitting fetal position. Her breathing was labored and choppy.
It had been months since her last fit of nightmares, and to see them return… her tears were frustrated more than anything else. Always the same well of emotion with no context. She could never remember what she saw. She was simply left to pick herself up afterward. She hated it. She was tired of living with something she couldn't understand. Tired of the effort she had to put in just to feel normal sometimes.
She climbed out of bed and wiped her eyes before pushing herself into a handstand even before using the latrine. She kept her body ramrod straight, tightening her abdomen and locking her spine before wrapping her lekku around her throat to keep them off the floor. Next came the breathing exercises and focusing on her extremities as her muscles grew tired – her vision hyperfocused on the ornate nightstand next to the bed, noticing for the first time there wasn't any dust under it. She focused on the tips of her fingers and toes, a simple but effective means of distracting from physical pain. It had the added bonus of focusing her mind away from the poisonous emotions that clung to her like a burr.
A clank on the nightstand startled her out of her meditations and she fell to the floor in a heap. Frantic eyes scanned the room as she pushed herself up into a defensive crouch… only to see Otol Kerrn setting out a metal tray with steaming tea and breakfast biscuits – she hadn't heard the door open.
"I'll be in the common room with the others if you need to talk," he said as he turned to leave.
"Thank you," Numa whispered as the door closed behind him.
A shaking hand reached for the tea, knocking the drink over onto the biscuits. She quietly cursed as she righted the cup and cleaned up the spill.
Taral sat at the corner table, cleaning his lightsaber while music played on the room's speakers. He reached into a nearby bowl and pulled out one of the hidden cameras he'd removed from the room – smashing it and removing several components for his lightsaber. He smiled around his cigarette – Voynich liked to sell its guests' more salacious activities on the HoloNet.
He glanced back at the two Jedi – the younger exiting the bedroom sans food tray. He turned back to Biala and quietly fumed. Numa was in a vulnerable emotional state, but there was no way to take advantage while the Jedi watched his every move. In truth, he would have done the same thing, offering her a delicious kindness and a sympathetic ear.
I'll need to isolate her, he thought with a slight nod.
"We'll need to keep an eye on her," the older Jedi, Txon Oro, said, "Lest she continue to deteriorate."
Taral tensed, cursing under his breath. The Jedi's comment could be interpreted as a prudent suggestion or evidence he was reading his thoughts again. He reinforced his mental barriers as he stubbed out his cigarette and returned to Biala, using the Force to weld the metal hilt back together.
Txon glanced at Taral, the ghost of a smile forming upon his lips as he felt the Sith reinforce his mind. It was enough to keep him out, but the boy tended to grow lax over time. Either he never met someone who could break his defenses so easily, or he spent all his time around those against whom there was no defense.
What's your read on him? Txon asked with a thought, feeling the familiar foreign consciousness at the back of his skull.
Her voice was smokey and tinged with an alien accent, From the glimpses I've taken, he seems powerful, if rather pedestrian. But the way he resisted me when unconscious… it is intriguing.
It is peculiar, isn't it? That the barriers would be so much stronger.
He's hiding something.
Then it's up to us to discover the secret.
Perhaps if we were less passive. Surely he couldn't resist a concentrated mind-rip.
One can never be too sure, Myuomi. Besides, it's far too soon in our partnership to start poking around so aggressively.
He is but a tool, dear Txon. Tools are meant to yield to their masters.
Perhaps, but I doubt he would yield easily. He is combative by nature, and there's no telling what he will do when actively challenged.
'Tis of no moment. No enemy has ever withstood our might.
Txon quietly chuckled to himself. She never lacked for confidence, even eons after her people's fall. It remains to be seen whether he is truly our enemy, Myuomi. For now, we stand as allies.
Txon leaned back on the couch in contemplation. It had been forty years since Councilor Palavola took him into her confidence and revealed the secret she guarded like a jealous artificer. For at least a century, she had shared her body in much the same way he now did with Myuomi. Though her partner Vorivalis was far more severe than his – such was the price of leadership in times of tribulation.
It was a startling revelation the day she brought him in, though he rather enjoyed his alien companion once they'd been introduced. And every member of the Sphere of the Living Force was offered the chance to partner with one of these beings after a time, to share their body as the aliens shared their knowledge. It was a beautiful thing for a Jedi to join in such a union, though a regretful thing when they resisted and had to be isolated until they changed their minds.
Hey, switch places with me, Myuomi said.
Txon twitched at her interruption, then frowned slightly – she so rarely took control of his body. Why?
I like this song. It makes me want to dance.
Txon listened to the music, the beat was catchy but he couldn't place the genre. You can dance in your pyramid, you know.
He could practically hear her pout, 'Tis not the same.
He sighed. Very well.
Txon's body froze and a series of microseizures played across his eyelids as his consciousness receded and left his body an empty shell until Myuomi took his place. The transfer took only a fraction of a second but it left the body in a vulnerable state. Myuomi flexed the fingers of her new physical body, she always found the extra fingers a fascinating concept.
My thanks, Txon, she thought.
Anytime, Myuomi. There was a pause before he spoke again, Hmm… Where's that tome I was reading? I don't see it in the study.
I moved it back to the library so it wouldn't get lost. It's in the 'dimensional studies' section.
Thanks.
I've told you before to put things away when you're done with them. Do it again and you'll be banned from the library for a month.
My apologies, he grumbled.
Myuomi nodded Txon's head in acceptance before continuing to nod along with the melody. Gradually, she rose from the couch and began moving with the music. The human form – or chalactan in Txon's case – was similar enough in body type that she could move in it without appearing awkward. She gyrated and flowed with the melody, Txon's body moving with a grace rarely seen outside of combat. The minutes dragged on and she lost herself in the tune before it disappeared and the room was bathed in silence.
Myuomi froze and glanced around before her eyes settled on Taral. "Turn that back on, please."
He continued to stare, utterly nonplussed. "Why are you dancing?"
"I like to."
"But… you're…" he struggled to form a coherent sentence, "you know… fancy Jedi and shit."
"And? 'Tis no reason I cannot dance if desired. Now, can you turn the music back on?"
"Yeah… sure."
"You have my gratitude," Myuomi said as she went back to dancing, gyrating within Txon's mortal shell to the rolling clap of rhythmic noise.
Taral shook his head as he watched, saying under his breath, "What fucking world am I living in? This is… this is too weird for me to be sober." Taral pulled out his datapad and brought up the hotel's room services.
Minutes later, Numa emerged from the bedroom wearing a fresh set of Jedi robes – standard brown – that she received from the clinic to replace those she'd discarded. When she emerged, she looked composed, physically at least, but Myuomi could feel her roiling emotions even now. However, all this was buried under befuddlement as she watched the dignified Jedi Master dance alone.
Poor thing really should join in, it would help to lift her spirits.
Myuomi stopped her dancing several minutes later as she sensed two people approach the room's entrance – their spirits were mellowed, almost resigned. Was there happiness in their auras or simply numbness? It was hard to determine. Then came the ding of the doorbell and she watched Kerrn approach and open it.
Standing in the doorway was a pair of alien women wearing perhaps the skimpiest, most revealing attire she'd ever seen outside the slave auction houses. She could sense unease in the younger one as she eyed the gathered Jedi, images of them surrounding her and using her body as they all partook of the narcotics the women had brought flashed in her mind. Myuomi furrowed Txon's brow, she had no experience – personal or vicarious – with sex since her confinement to her pyramid. She lamented Txon's prudishness at times.
The door to the bedroom slid open behind them, with Numa glancing back and doing a double take. Then she expelled a horrified whisper, "Oh my gods…"
Taral stood in the doorway to the bedroom and reached up past the leather straps that now adorned his exposed chest and unzipped the mouth of his gimp hood. "Party time, people. Join in or get out."
Myuomi heard the twi'lek girl squeak like a rubber chew toy. It was a pathetic sound that summed up everyone else's feelings. Numa and Kerrn quickly made their way past the prostitutes and into the hallway.
Myuomi hesitated. I think we should stay.
What? came the incredulous reply of her host.
It would be rude to turn down such a generous offer.
We are not joining an orgy, Myuomi. Give me back my body.
…You're no fun, Myoumi thought as she returned to her pyramid.
Txon shook his head slightly. There was always a twinge of… something – vertigo, perhaps – when he returned to his body. Like his mind had to remember how it all worked. He followed his colleagues out into the hall, the door sliding shut behind them.
He thanked the Force that Myuomi wasn't so brazen as to sully his body without his consent.
Kerrn accepted the mug of caffa from the server of the café, a young twi'lek girl of mint-green complexion. He offered his gratitude and received a shy blush in response, a gentle probe of her surface thoughts showed she was more used to catcalls or utter dismissal – depending on the clientele. A former slave, she now worked as an indentured servant to the café owner – working off her debt with a paltry handful of pallas a day, far cheaper than a server droid would have been.
Her thoughts carried little else beyond her predicament and a vague hope for a better life. Kerrn wondered what would be the best way to help her. They could spirit her away, but that didn't feel right. Maybe they could pay off the debt… if only he knew the amount. He frowned as he watched the girl serve the others.
She placed Taral's mug on the table, prompting him to address her, "What's your name, beautiful?"
The girl flinched, startled by the question. "T-Toff."
"A pretty name for a pretty girl," he said with a charmingly oily smile, "Can I ask you something?"
He gestured for her to lean closer, which she did after a split-second of hesitation. Her cheeks flushed a deeper teal as he whispered something in her ear-cone Kerrn couldn't make out – though her surface thoughts turned prurient as the blush deepened.
A muffled thud under the table followed by a sharp gasp from the young Sith brought an end to the display. The server girl hurriedly made her exit, her blush kissing the roots of her lekku.
Taral turned an angry eye to Numa. "Listen here, you little cockblocker—"
"Were your whores not enough?" Numa interrupted, brushing imaginary dirt from the shoulder of her new robes.
"As a matter of fact, they weren't. I am virile, woman!"
"You're a sex addict."
"Probably."
"And is it satisfying hopping from one bed to another? Do you even remember the women you use?"
"Depends how blasted I am on nova dust at the time. Besides, you're missing the point and there's not enough time in the day to explain it to you, Numa. I'm just, I don't know. I'm a sexual…" Taral trailed off, grasping for an appropriate word.
" 'Predator'?" Numa suggested.
Taral choked and snorted before letting loose with a raucous howl of laughter. "God I missed you."
"Mm."
"Listen, life is what you make of it. It's not my fault you're too prudish to enjoy it."
Numa flushed in indignation and reared up to retort… only to sigh and lean back into her chair. Kerrn smiled, it was good to see her rein in her temper.
"Aw," the Sith groaned with a playful smile, "Is our game over?"
"This isn't a game, Taral," hissed Numa, "Frankly, I'm just happy to have enough control to be sitting here right now."
He arched a brow. "Still jittery from the slaver den?"
"That's one way to put it." Numa stared into her mug and frowned. "There was so much suffering in that place. It was overwhelming."
"Then you need to toughen up, girl. That den is a fucking paradise compared to where we're going."
Numa scowled. "Thanks for the heads-up."
"She's been through an ordeal, Sith," Kerrn said, "Stop antagonizing her."
"Whatever," Taral dismissed before he smiled and lifted a placating hand. "But hey, credit where credit's due: you handled yourself pretty well. You Jedi usually turn to jelly when you're cut off from the Force."
Numa didn't respond beyond a quiet hum of acknowledgement. Kerrn glanced at Taral before shifting to Numa. Their interactions were concerning, the Sith always poking and prodding her, but he found nothing objectionable in that short exchange. He was more concerned about Numa's state of mind. She was hiding it well, but he could feel her fragility. He would have to speak with her later, away from the Sith.
"You are unwell, Knight Lestin," Txon began, "More so than is expected from your description of events."
Numa fidgeted in her seat. "I… did something I'm not proud of, Master Oro. I am still processing my anger and I fear that… that I'm not the Jedi I should be."
"You have a romantic notion of Jedi-hood in your mind, but it is just that: romantic. It is not reality, it is a goal. All of us struggle, you need not berate yourself for not living up to such a standard," he said in gentle tones, "But that isn't what I'm referring to. You bear the mark of another on your mind."
She grimaced. "I found a boy in that hell. I… I used a technique to… pull away his trauma. To let him die in peace, surrounded by happy memories."
"I see. Foolish." Txon steepled his fingers. "You were not trained as a Conciliator, Knight Lestin. It is dangerous to pull another's trauma into yourself. The memories become tangled like… strings."
"What should I have done instead? Left him like that? Killed him when all he knew was pain?"
"No, Numa," Kerrn said, "You did the right thing. You just weren't prepared for the blowback."
"There are meditative techniques discovered in the Sphere of the Living Force. I can teach them to you, Knight Lestin. They can help you process the foreign trauma and find peace."
Numa thought for a moment before offering a sad smile. "Thank you, Master Oro. I would appreciate it. But… there's more to it. Memories that don't fit. They're hazy and broken, but… familiar at the same time."
"What do you remember?"
She was tense, her knuckles near-white on her mug. "A laughing hutt… nothing else…"
"I see. Think on this and see what else you can remember. We can discuss it and the meditations I mentioned when we return to the hotel."
The table returned to silence, each focused on their food and drink. There was an awkward energy that none dared acknowledge – content to sip their drinks and wait for their food.
Txon broke the silence after a time, "We're being watched."
"Really?" Kerrn asked, glancing around along with Numa.
"The bounty hunter in the blue and silver armor?" asked Taral.
Txon nodded.
"He's a Mandalorian spy. He's keeping an eye on us until Panlie sends backup," Taral chimed without glancing at the man in question, his expression and tone nonchalant, "Though I'm sure you divined that yourself."
"I did," Txon confirmed.
"Should we be concerned about this?" asked Kerrn.
Taral smiled. "Not for long."
"There's no need for violence."
"There's also no need to be squeamish. Just leave it to me. I'm the one he's after."
Kerrn frowned at the Sith's blasé attitude toward violence. It did, however, bring to the fore a major issue.
"In that case, it's best if we discuss our plan for leaving this moon," he said as he opened his datapad and brought up the schematics of a ship.
Taral scowled. "We're gonna do this in public? Literally two seconds after I pointed out we're being spied on?"
"I'll take care of it," interjected Txon as he gestured with his hand, light bending around his fingertips.
They all felt the shift in the Force as a telepathic disruption field enveloped their table, muffling and distorting the sounds they made. But then Txon pushed further and everyone else in the café, from the Mando to the serving girl, became less aware, less focused, and much more sluggish.
Kerrn eyed the room and nodded at their newfound privacy. "Thank you, Master Oro. As I was saying, I procured a vessel and crew while Numa was recovering. It's an Aarb-class bulk-freighter, built by the SoroSuub Corporation circa 432 ABY. She's a bit… 'weathered,' I suppose, but more than adequate to our purposes."
"Stock freighter?" inquired Taral.
"They're smugglers, so doubtless it's been modified."
"Mm, not modified enough for where we're going." Taral pulled out his holocommunicator and tossed it on the table where it opened up and displayed a small blue neimoidian.
"Taral, glad you called. We just got news that the twins were arrested. I think that girl you're looking for—"
"Way ahead of you, Durgado," Taral interrupted, "We rescued Numa last night. Wiped out an Exchange affiliate in the process."
"That was you?" His surprise turned to annoyance. "Dammit, Taral, that's gonna destabilize the district for weeks."
"That's on them for crossing me. Now listen, I got two things I want to discuss. First, you still have the schematics for my robes?"
"I do. How many you want?"
"Eh, let's go with a dozen. I'll be over later for new measurements." Taral sipped his caffa. "The second thing I wanna to discuss involves a ship. Can you put your brother on?"
"Sure. Hey, Siib, call for you!" Durgado yelled as he disappeared from view.
Taral glanced over at Numa again and Kerrn had to stop himself from bristling at the smile that graced the Sith's lips. "You know, Numa, Durgado's pretty good at stitching together clothes. You should ask him to make some custom robes for you. Those Jedi duds aren't super practical."
Numa weighed the suggestion and nodded her ascent as a new neimoidian appeared in the projection. "Hey, Taral. What do you need?"
"I got my hands on an Aarb-class bulk-freighter. I need it kitted out."
"Should be easy enough, given how modular that design was. Anything in particular you want?"
"I need speed, stealth, and survivability," Taral said before adding, "I also need a training dojo put in there somewhere."
"I can work with that. What's your budget?"
"Unlimited."
"Oh… then I can definitely work with that."
"Yeah, that's the nice thing about working with Jedi. They're so generous."
"The Order never agreed to fund this expedition," Knight Kerrn objected.
"It's an investment, Jedi."
"Speaking of investments, might I interest you in some… unique armaments?"
"Ooh, whaddaya got?" Taral asked while enthusiastically ignoring the roll of Numa's eyes.
"Schematics for a weapon that got leaked to the HoloNet a while back. Crazy tech the Migrant Fleet came up with… or found, hard to say. Fires a beam of unstable particles that fry the crew compartments of ships. They call it the 'Urush Cannon.' "
Numa perked up and whispered to Kerrn, "Isn't Master Ritten's Padawan named 'Urush.' "
"Yeah… you think he's connected to this?"
"Well, he was a Migrant refugee, wasn't he?"
"He was, but I don't know much else. He's pretty quiet. Maybe Master Ritten would know."
Numa nodded her head and emptied her cup of caffa as Taral and the neimoidian continued talking.
"Alright, we'll send the ship your way once they finish offloading supplies to the clinic."
"I'll order the parts and have them ready to go. Expect at least two weeks for the retrofit. I'll send you the invoice and you can forward it to the Jedi." Siib bowed at the waist. "Pleasure doing business with you."
Kerrn stared at Taral and shook his head. "There's no way this will be approved. It'd be cheaper for the Alliance to give you a Nebula-III."
"Now that is a tempting offer."
The table fell into silence as Txon dropped the field, their food arriving soon after. The server girl placed their plates before them and each dug in with varying vigor. The group ate in relative quiet. When they finished, the girl returned to collect their dishes and – almost hesitantly – hand them the check. Her surface thoughts became more active and Kerrn could hear the frantic jumbled math as she attempted to calculate her remaining debt minus this meal and others in the café.
So that's how much a life is worth, Kerrn thought as he brought up the gratuity section on the touchscreen, entering the exact amount the girl needed to be free.
He smiled as he confirmed the payment, only for it to falter once he noticed Taral's glare. "What?"
"What is with that outrageous tip you left?"
"It is the debt that binds her here."
"Why?"
"I wouldn't expect a Sith to understand altruism."
"How is this altruism? You paid off her debt and left her to the mercy of this moon. She hasn't a palla to her name. It would make more sense to just take her with us."
"Why would we do that?"
Taral smiled, it was an oily thing. "I can think of a couple uses for her."
Numa shook her head. "You're disgusting."
"I prefer 'practical.' Still better than leaving her here with nothing just to soothe your morals."
Kerrn's exasperation peeked through as he spoke, "She could work in the clinic."
"Brilliant idea! When were you planning to suggest that to her, you selfless snob?"
Kerrn sighed and turned to wave over the server girl. "Ma'am, this gratuity should be enough to pay off your debt to the café owner.
"R-Really? Oh, praise you!" she exclaimed, her form jittery from surprise, "Ta'd'noqun himself must have sent you to me."
"It is the way of the Jedi to aid those in need," he said, his smile warm, "The clinic in Qima District is a Jedi affiliate. They may have work for you if you are interested, and there's no risk of them saddling you with unreasonable debt."
She nodded. "O-Okay… thank you. Thank you so much!"
Kerrn nodded his head, silently thankful the Sith had made his – admittedly snide – suggestion.
Said Sith scoffed, "Did you just call her 'Ma'am'? You don't even know her fucking name, do you?"
Kerrn closed his eyes and took a deep breath before standing up from the table, thanking the girl once more, and walking away. He was joined by Numa and Txon, with Taral not far behind after saying his own – blush-inducing – farewell to the girl.
Ugh, what was her name, anyway?
Daniel Skywalker tugged on the hem of his cloak, pulling out any errant wrinkles. The Grand Master had to appear in control of everything, even when he was in control of nothing. To that end, he made sure his appearance was immaculate – even as he played up the façade of being a frail old man.
Control in his life and environment had waxed and waned and waxed again over the decades. As the Eternal Watcher, he was master of things few saw. As Grand Master, he'd watched without action as the Jedi Order rotted from within. And now, after so long an absentee leader, he was once more pulling the strings that could save his beloved Order from ruin.
He quietly thanked the Force for his deliverance. He had tried to remember what drew him to Dagobah years ago and found there was no simple answer. He was simply drawn to the swamp, and from there, his vision quest consumed him and pulled him across the galaxy in search of answers. He had seen things no one else had. He saw the Order in ruins, saw the rot made manifest, saw the worst impulses of his contemporaries brought to bear, and saw the danger of ancient knowledge that could stretch through the eons and touch the unwary.
Only he and a handful of confidants knew what he had seen. Many of them even joined him in the latter half of his journey, seeing for themselves what dread forces awaited a teetering galaxy. How a single spark could set alight—
Daniel sighed in irritation. Alana was right. I'm nothing but metaphors.
Refocusing on his task, Daniel called his lightsaber to his hand. Not the prop lightsaber that hung from his waist – though that one was very real – but the double-bladed saberstaff that masqueraded as an old man's walking stick. He looked again in the mirror of his quarters in the Ossus Praxeum, finding everything to be perfect and quietly hoping it would stay that way as he journeyed the hallways and turbolifts to the Council Chambers.
The door to the room opened and in walked Master Lara'ritten. Even now, after more than a decade together, she took his breath away. Lara was in her seventies, but had the appearance of someone in their late thirties – such was the benefit of the healer's arts. She wore a frown, a marr on the beautiful turquoise edifice of—
No more metaphors, dammit!
"Hello, Lara," he greeted.
Her reply was clipped, "Daniel."
He frowned himself. "I'd rather not continue our earlier argument, love."
"I just wish you would reconsider. There are less drastic options, you know."
"True," he agreed, "but at this point… I think we're too far gone for half-measures. In exchange for a Sith's cooperation, we made an enemy of an entire people. I fear what this will mean in the long-run."
"It means the Order will need stability, Daniel."
"We have planned for these eventualities, Lara. The visions and the warnings. It's all coming to a head and I will meet them. I have considered all options available. I have taken counsel of those most trusted – including you. This is the best path… for everyone."
"You need not do so alone."
"Lara, I won't be alone. Moreover, I do not wish to compromise you in this. You are the greatest the Order has to offer. All beyond you are touched by the rot. The stability the Order so desperately needs will require an anchor. You will be that anchor."
Lara's frown softened slightly, but her eyes held only sadness. Daniel reached over and pulled her into a hug, one she returned with desperate strength.
"Daniel?" she said quietly as she buried her face in the nape of his neck, "Everything is going to change. You can't predict this thing anymore."
"I could never predict it, beloved. I can only piece together what I know with the visions and hope to make the right choices." He squeezed her tight to him one last time. "At the very least, we won't be blind."
She pulled away, eyes still sad. "Come on… the Council awaits."
In a circular room with twelves chairs arranged in a semi-circle facing the only exit at the top of a spire, sat four of the Jedi Order's most powerful Masters. Each leading a separate Sphere and sitting upon this High Council, overseeing the actions of a quasi-nation-state. The room was opulent but simple in its décor and architecture. The walls had a flowing elegance with their curves and embellishments. The only blemish being a hastily patched hole in the northern wall that still awaited a fresh coat of paint.
It had been at least a month, but the Temple was still abuzz with talk of the Mandalorians and the fallout of their leader's failed negotiations with the Council. Arguments erupted time and again as colleagues argued over rumors and official statements – all Orthodox and Traditionalist-leaning Jedi adhering to the official statements by Councilor Undien: 'The Mandalorians had taken advantage of Jedi kindness and the Council's willingness to listen to an emissary of a foreign power, only for the devious and deceitful Javen'Panlie – now known to be the Mandalore – to tear open the wall and abduct several Masters, including Grand Master Skywalker.'
There was significant pushback on the spin. It was a difficult thing to believe, that a handful of Mandalorians had overpowered the entire Jedi High Council and abducted three of them. But That was the line that was peddled until Grand Master Skywalker returned from Onderon to set the record straight: 'In no way were any Jedi abducted or mistreated by the Mandalorians. They had voluntarily accompanied them to the neutral Prael System for further negotiations.'
And with two narratives, the politics ate its own tail. Entire friendships were damaged as each side became increasingly partisan on the Mandalorian question.
For Councilor Undien, it was beautiful, controllable chaos. The Alliance's demand to the Mandalorians to relinquish all relics on Dxun to the Jedi had arrived too late. The Tomb of Freedon Nadd was empty and abandoned. If not for a section of scorched earth, an observer would be hard-pressed to find any evidence the Mandos had been there at all.
It was a blow to his and Dal's plans, certainly, but with the benefit of sowing division in the Order. The relics could be retrieved at a later date, once Javen'Panlie was brought to heel. For now, he contented himself with pushing like-minded individuals toward war with the Mandalorian Union. Something Councilor Terena Odan helped spread amongst new recruits and Padawans. There was something beautiful in how malleable young minds were.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Undien."
Undien waved it off. "It is no matter, Terena. You witnessed enough, as did Knight Paal. More than enough to force Skywalker on the backfoot."
Terena Odan had been one of the Masters who left with the Mandalorians. She played her part and tried to send secret messages back to Undien on where they were going and what Mando ships were like. Regrettably, she was caught and apprehended, and later deported from Lehon after it became clear to the Alliance ships sent to rescue them that the entire system had been sold to the Mandalorian Union and was no longer under their jurisdiction.
Vetor Paal fared little better, having been sent in with the Alliance strike team only to be arrested by the Mandos and deported as well.
"Between that and this Sith he's recruited, Skywalker is vulnerable."
"I have to wonder how long this has been in the works," she opined, "I checked my records, Skywalker had me do a search for 'Taral' and 'Numa' almost two years ago."
Undien cocked a brow and leaned in. "Oh? What did he want?"
"He was looking for them. I think, on reflection, he knew something would happen with those two, but didn't know who they were."
"Hmm, perhaps it was a vision. I know he spent some time on Voss a while back."
"And the Kathol Rift."
"And he didn't share this with us… interesting."
"No, but I suspect Ritten and Yaden were in on it."
Ritten was almost a certainty, given the open secret of their relationship. However, Undien was unsure to what degree the enigmatic Jedi spymaster played. Yaden's role in the Order was mostly apolitical unless he wished otherwise. He was friendly with Skywalker, of course, especially as both came from the same Sphere.
It would not be surprising if Yaden knew something… but for him to be an active collaborator? Perhaps, but he would reserve judgment.
"Just one more thing we can use against him," he said with a smile as the turbolift doors opened, "Speak of the devil."
The lift emptied itself of occupants – Daniel Skywalker, Lara'ritten, and Inheem Najor. After another twenty minutes, every seat was filled and the Jedi High Council was officially in session.
Grand Master Skywalker cleared his throat. "Today's meeting is to discuss the Sith named Taral. You've all been appraised of the situation. You know what he is and what he has offered. It is time for the Council to define its relationship with this man."
"We've not even held a vote on this, Skywalker," Undien countered, "You've pushed this off for weeks, when his request should have been denied from the start."
"It would be premature to simply dismiss him out of hand, Undien. Taral offers an opportunity to counter the Sith."
High Conciliator Tocrum furrowed his perfectly manicured brows. "What exactly is this man offering us? "
"Information on the Sith Collective and their infiltration of the Alliance, as well as Sith-affiliated targets."
"How reliable is his information?" Terena asked, "Can he even be trusted?"
"He's a Sith, Terena, he can never be trusted. But the information he provides can be verified," Skywalker explained, ending with a nod toward Councilor Mateil.
"Taral provided Councilor Ritten with five names, claiming they were Sith infiltrators. Having interrogated the suspects over the preceding weeks, I can confirm that they were indeed Sith agents."
Undien frowned. It would be difficult to argue against such a useful asset. "And what does he receive in return for his cooperation?"
"A free hand to pursue his own interests against the Sith Collective, as well as Jedi protection – such as it is – against the Mandalorian Union. He is a wanted criminal in Mandalorian Space."
"Is that why you were forced from Dxun, Skywalker?" asked Undien, careful to hide his amusement.
Skywalker turned his emotionless gaze to him. "Yes. I determined that Taral's information was more valuable than an alliance with the Mandalorians."
Terena scowled. "You're taking quite the risk, Skywalker."
"I could say the same of you and Undien," he answered without missing a beat, "Your provocations could trigger an ill-advised war."
Dal came to their defense, "There is nothing 'ill-advised' about retrieving the artifacts they stole."
"Those artifacts were given freely to the Holder of the Heart of the Guardian by past Jedi Councils, Dal. Who are you to question their wisdom when you know not what they sought to hide?"
"I would rather make that determination for myself," Dal said with some defensiveness, "The Mandalorians are thugs. They have no business hoarding what is by rights ours."
Councilor Ritten chimed in, her tone more biting and aggressive than normal, "You would start a war to collect some baubles? How much suffering is worth reclaiming your trinkets?"
"I don't expect you to understand the value of the objects they hoard."
"I don't. However, I do understand the cost of such adventurism, Dal. The Sith raid on Rakata Prime left dozens dead and the Mandalorians swore undying vengeance, going so far as to blame us because of Knight Korr's complicity in that event."
Undien sneered, "Don't call it 'complicity,' Ritten. The Sith murdered her."
"I'm aware of the circumstances, Undien. Her actions, at your behest, brought down the shields of the temple there, allowing the Sith to enter and massacre the families within. That was a single event. A war would produce innumerable such atrocities, and we would be open to reprisal."
Undien suppressed a smile at the pained expression on Ritten's face as Battlemaster Shartan chimed in, "War is always a painful thing, especially when lives are wasted on something that reeks of avarice. Though with how things are shaking out with the Mandalorians, there may be a war regardless."
"If not to trade lives for relics, what possible justification can this Council offer?" Ritten questioned, trying and failing to keep her disdain out of her voice.
"The Union has offered nothing in our discussions of Tlon Fett and his criminal followers. They offer information but flatly refuse to assist us against him."
Undien nodded his head. The Mandos had offered all the information – allegedly – that they possessed on the Warlord. There were talks in the beginning about joint operations against the Gra'tua… but then the talks broke down and they withdrew from negotiations entirely.
Right after Daniel Skywalker was evicted from Dxun.
It would be a useful catalyst to push the Alliance and Militant Order into conflict with the Mandos. Though Undien was somewhat uneasy given his own tenuous connections to the Warlord through Senator Kavalian.
"You would wage war against a people simply because they refuse to fight by your side?" Skywalker questioned, "Imperialism is not in the interest of the Jedi Order, Shartan."
Shartan openly bristled at the rejection. "And what is in our interest, Skywalker? To stand by and do nothing as Fett raids the Outer Rim?"
"Combatting Fett has nothing to do with invading the Mandalorian Union. You are grasping, my friend."
"Sixteen years he's rode roughshod in the border regions. Javen'Panlie has done nothing to combat the monster he himself created. There is culpability in the Union, Skywalker, and I would see justice done."
"Shocking that you ignore the consequences of your aggression," Councilor Ritten chided.
"I understand the consequences, Ritten." Shartan's eyebrows furrowed and his emotions turned cold. "I also understand the consequences of ignoring such a threat."
"Which threat, exactly? Fett or the Mandalorian Union?"
"Both."
Councilor Ritten opened her mouth to rebuke him only to be cut off by the Grand Master, "Lara, please, calm yourself. This bickering is pointless, and any actions taken against outside forces will require input from all of the Council. I think we can all agree that Tlon Fett is a threat that cannot be ignored, but I doubt there is such a consensus on attacking a neutral party."
"Who's to say they're neutral?" Shartan demanded, "Fett has his supporters in Mandalorian Space, despite Panlie's protestations. The fact that he would ignore this shows he is no friend to the innocents that fall victim to Fett."
Skywalker was quiet for long seconds. "I suspect you are correct, Shartan, and that there are those in the Union who support Fett, just as there are those in the Alliance who support the Zann Consortium. That does not mean their society does. It does not mean that war is needed nor even desirable."
The bickering continued for a time. Some supported war – either to reclaim artifacts or to punish the Union for Fett. Others were either against or had not chosen to offer support. The Council was divided on the issue, but not as divided as Undien had suspected. If Shartan and Mateil could be convinced to support the war for their own vengeful reasons, there might be enough support to force the issue.
Eventually, the conversation died down and the Grand Master brought them back on topic. Would the Jedi Order offer Taral asylum – such as it was – in exchange for his assistance against the Sith Collective?
Each Councilor took their turn to voice their assent or objection. Palavola, Mateil, Ritten, Yaden, Skywalker, Shartan, and Tiian all voted in favor of the motion. Dal, Najor, Undien, and Odan voted against. That left only one vote undecided.
"High Conciliator?"
Tocrum pursed his lips. "I will abstain from this. My vote would be unable to influence the outcome anyway."
Undien narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, Tocrum could be an unreliable ally at times. "That's hardly a reason not to state your position on something so important. It is a question of allying with a Sith!"
"It sounds more like using a deniable asset, Undien," Tocrum dismissed, "And the Council has made its position known. There is nothing more to say on the matter."
"So it seems," Skywalker said, though he also seemed to appraise Tocrum with a degree of skepticism, "In that case, the motion passes. Yaden, if you would, please."
Eternal Watcher Yaden pulled out a datapad and tapped the screen several times with his long fingers. The holoprojector in the center of the room spun up, revealing Knights Lestin and Kerrn who quickly bowed in respect.
Kerrn spoke first, "Greetings, Masters—"
"Fucking finally!" Taral could be heard yelling from off the projection, "We've been waiting for nearly an hour!"
"Will you please shut up!" Lestin hissed, her expression utterly mortified, "You can't talk to the Councilors like that."
"I'll do what I want, when I want, and how I want!"
"Have you been drinking?"
"What are you, my parole officer?" he demanded, finally stepping into view and glancing around at the arrayed Masters, "So this is the High Council, huh? Neat. I take it you checked out those names I gave you?"
Mateil nodded. "Interrogation of the suspects confirmed Sith affiliations, yes."
"Good. I can offer more… depending on how this conversation plays out."
Undien bristled at the boy's nonchalant disrespect. This was who Skywalker chose to ally with?
"The Council has chosen to recognize you as an ally, Taral," explained Grand Master Skywalker, "The terms previously agreed upon are ratified."
"Sweet. Though we should really discuss budgets at some point."
"Yes, I saw the… invoice. You should really speak to us before sending something like that."
"Well, it seemed like such a small matter to bring up. You're the Grand Master! Your time is valuable. Can't waste it on budget negotiations. That would be silly."
"We'll cover the retrofit expense, but that will be all the financing you'll receive. Frankly, it's more than you should have expected to begin with."
"Fine, fine, I have a few credits laying around if you want to be miserly about it," Taral said with a shrug.
Councilor Tiian spoke, "Setting that aside, Taral, there are some questions we would like to ask you. Clarifications and such."
"Alright, shoot."
"Who is your Master?" Councilor Yaden asked, his eyes focused and unblinking.
"Mm, right outta the gate, huh? My Master, or rather Mistress, was Lady Vathila," Taral said, cocking an eye toward Skywalker, "You know her, Master Skywalker?"
Undien watched the Grand Master as he nodded. Strange, Skywalker had never brought this information to the Council.
"The first time I learned of her was from an ancient spirit I met on Korriban," he explained.
Ah, that's why he never mentioned it.
"Korriban? Wait, wait, wait… Are you talking about Vauner?" Taral asked before cracking up, "Oh god, that's so fucking funny! I can't even count the number of times I heard Vath ranting her ruby ass off about him. 'Arrogant, dusty old ghost! Who the hell does he think he is?! I'm the Dark Lady of the Sith! I could destroy him with a thought! Blah, blah, blah!' Hehehe."
Undien frowned at the ridiculous high-pitched voice Taral adopted for his impression, noticing an odd split-second of tension in Dal's body. Was it the pitch that troubled him so?
"I've never actually met him myself. For whatever reason, he refused to show himself the times I went with her to the Valley of the Dark Lords. Never did find out why."
"He mentioned she thought quite highly of herself," Skywalker said.
"Mm." Taral's mirth calmed a bit, though he retained his smirk. "Vath is what she is. Stereotypical. She's selfish and greedy and cruel, but make no mistake, that woman is extremely dangerous. Even if she were dead to the Force she would be…" Taral drifted off, bobbing his head slightly and rolling his eyes. "A force to be reckoned with. There isn't a Sith alive who could face her. And only one Jedi that gives her pause."
Undien noticed the ghost of a smile form on Councilor Palavola's otherwise stony expression.
"That sort of power breeds a lot of hubris. Killing her is probably gonna be a team effort."
"This woman leads the Sith?"
"Uh… sorta? She leads her Order, the 'Order of Lady Vathila,' but when it comes to the greater Sith Collective… she's more of a… 'first amongst equals,' I guess?"
Battlemaster Shartan perked up. "Tell us about this Collective."
"It's a cooperative venture between the Sith Orders. Each takes its name from a famous Sith Lord and usually tries to emulate their teachings. Vathila, Krayt, Revan… the list goes on. Many split from the established Orders while others existed prior to the alliance. I wonder how many more are out there in the shadows even now."
"Troubling. Revan and Krayt were warlords. If entire Orders are dedicated to producing warriors…"
"They are. Along with a few others. It's not that different from the Jedi Spheres… if half the Spheres were quasi-Militant Order."
The Battlemaster leaned back in his seat, fingers laced together barring the index fingers which rested on his lips. Undien watched for a moment before turning back to the Sith, Shartan's actions moving forward would be predictable.
Shartan asked, "What are their combat capabilities?"
"I… I'm not sure I understand the question. In what context? Open warfare?"
"Amongst others." The Battlemaster nodded.
"Mm. Open war will rely on Snoke to provide Stormtroopers and conventional forces. The Sith themselves would supplement that. I figure if it comes down to a conventional conflict – which the Collective will do everything in its power to avoid – the Sith could probably control and defend a few dozen systems? I'm not really a military analyst though," Taral admitted, "They would focus on compromising your command structure before facing you. And by 'you' I mean the entire Triumvirate."
Councilor Tiian spoke, "Sith often use deceit and misdirection to compensate for their lack of numbers."
"True, so long as you ignore the times they fought with parity. Lucky for you, they aren't millions-strong."
"What are Sith numbers overall?"
"Uh… couple thousand, I'd guess? Ten at most? Way less than you Jedi, that's for sure. Last I heard there were millions of you fuckers." The Sith scowled. "That said, they do have their own non-Sith armed forces. So bear that in mind."
Councilor Dal shifted in his seat. "How can we be sure any of this is even accurate? Almost everything you've said violates Sith precedents and history. To gather so many Sith of such different ideologies would lead to endless strife and conflict. It is an impossibility."
"Listen, fishhead, it's not 'impossible,' it's 'improbable.' And 'unprecedented'? Clearly you've never heard of the 'Brotherhood of Darkness,' " Taral scoffed at the Loremaster, "Make no mistake, no one in the Collective thinks this will last long-term, even now the Orders plot against each other… except maybe Krayt and Snoke, they're pretty tight. But do not doubt that they will all work together to see the Jedi brought low before they turn on one another. That is what makes Vathila so dangerous."
"Forgive me if I do not take a Sith at his word," Dal growled.
Undien suppressed a smile. Rare was the individual who could insult his friend so casually. He gauged the other Masters and saw skepticism amongst most of them in one form or another.
"I too have reservations, Taral," Skywalker said, steepling his fingers, "You make these claims, yet you also told Tokare your Master was named 'Karorm.' "
"Eh, I needed a name, so I picked one of her underlings. I had some things to take care of before they could know the truth. Old scores and all that."
"You cannot be serious," Councilor Ritten said from her seat, "Daniel told me about your claim. I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now. Karorm is a good man. He's saved millions with his generosity."
"You honestly think it matters what you believe? The fucking guy is a Sith. Infiltration is kinda our thing. Though it doesn't matter to me one way or the other, Karorm is a lackey at best. He's nobody."
Undien tensed but kept his features neutral. Like Councilor Ritten, he was significantly connected to Karorm. If this wild claim turned out true… Perhaps it was time to divest and distance himself. He'd have to talk to Master Vin after the meeting.
"Look, just investigate him yourself. I have no reason to call out some rich asshole as a Sith. If he weren't Vath's plaything I wouldn't even know his name."
High Arbiter Mateil spoke, "We'll need to look into this regardless. Even if Karorm is innocent, he has too many connections to the Order, up to and including some in this room. We can bring him in for questioning and debrief."
Councilor Yaden leaned forward. "I've had my people looking into him since he was brought to my attention but they've found nothing. At least, nothing Sith related."
"Eh, he's not an idiot, despite appearances. Maybe you'll find nothing… all I can do is tell you what I know. And it doesn't exactly help my case if I hand you names of people who aren't Sith."
"A fair point, Taral," Skywalker acknowledged, stroking his chin, "We will investigate regardless."
The group became quiet, each Master contemplating.
Professor Najor broke the silence, "Could you tell us how many Sith Orders there are in the Collective? What they're like?"
"Aw, man… you're gonna make count? Ugh, fine," Taral groaned as he looked up to the ceiling and began mumbling, while extending a finger with each name, "Vathila, Revan, Krayt, Nox, Snoke, Palpatine, Plagueis, Nihilus, Jadus… lot of us's in there… Did I mention Vathila already?" he asked as he looked to the group with a cocked head before throwing his hands up with a huff, "Several! There's several. More than ten, less than twenty."
"What are the Orders like? What do they specialize in?"
"Hmm," Taral hummed as he laced his fingers together and covered his eyes, his head tilted up to the ceiling and his mouth ajar as he contemplated in manufactured darkness, "Nox is a bunch of inbred noble houses on Dromund Kaas. Been there once or twice. The locals are all right, but the nobles are snooty as fuck. Snoke is like a knockoff Empire – full of Stormtroopers and Tie Fighters. They have their own sect of Force-users though, the Knights of Ren – the best of them use crossguard lightsabers while the rest use beskar-tipped mêlée weapons. Krayt is basically the One Sith from when Darth Krayt was alive. Jadus is full of spies. Nihilus is full of assassins. Revan is… interesting, and if I had had my druthers, I would've joined them. Vathila didn't give me a choice and I was stuck in her happy little cult of sycophants and red-skins. Palpatine creates political infiltrators while Plagueis does all the sciency shit." Taral released his fingers and let his arms fall to the side, looking back at the gathered Jedi. "There are some others, but… I can't think of them. If you find a list for me, I can go off that."
Councilor Yaden reviewed his datapad. "Of the known Orders, you left out Kaan, Ragnos, Caedus, Vitiate, Traya, and Bane."
"Ha! You know about the Order of Bane? Damn, you really are well-informed. That Order doesn't exist anymore, by the by. Went all 'Rule of Two' and got put down hard when they staged a… coup, I guess? Alright, Kaan is a Brotherhood of Darkness knockoff. Vitiate is… weird. And I don't know much about them. Traya is full of philosophers and Ragnos is full of red-skins."
" 'Red-skins'?"
"Pureblood sith and massassi. I think time travel was involved. Which is all kinds of hax."
"Your claims of a Sith Collective are difficult enough to believe," Dal sneered, "but the sith species went extinct millennia ago. There's no evidence that they've survived."
"When I was on Dxun," Skywalker began, "a pair of massassi Sith attacked the Tomb of Freedon Nadd."
"I read the report, Skywalker, and I'm not confident that was the case. The only evidence you provided was Mandalorian testimony and your own senses. You did not witness them yourself."
"Alana confirmed—"
"Her testimony is suspect. She abandoned the Order for the Mandos."
The Grand Master did not challenge Dal's assertion, but it clearly rankled him. Undien suppressed a smile. He had not planned for the girl to galavant off to Mando Space, but it was a nice change to have her out of the Order. She was too polarizing.
"And what of the Order of Caedus?" asked Councilor Tiian.
Taral was quiet for a long second. "They're Jedi."
Terena narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"
"It means just what I said. They are Sith who use the light side of the Force. They are an… option. Something dissatisfied Jedi can join. That way they can remain 'good' while shedding your Order's rules and baggage. The few I've met left for one reason or another. A handful were victims of amorous Masters." Taral favored Councilor Tocrum with a smile. "At least, the victims that weren't shipped off to Tython."
Tocrum's supermodel face wrinkled with displeasure. "That's a disgusting assertion."
"Better than a disgusting insertion."
There was an audible groan from Knight Lestin, followed by Taral's beaming smile.
The conversation continued for another hour or so. Topics ranged from Sith plans to Taral's background to discussions of the 'mission,' such as it was. Undien remained relatively silent during the talks, content to sit back and reconfigure his schemes in light of the changing circumstances. Offering so much trust in a Sith – after offering so much trust to the Mandalorians only to betray them – left Grand Master Skywalker vulnerable. Undien rubbed a finger with the pad of his thumb as he eagerly waited for the end of this discussion. He would never have a better opportunity to force Daniel Skywalker off the Council.
"If there's nothing else, we should get going. I've been dodging Mandos for two weeks now and I'll be glad to be free of this moon. We'll be operating in the Outer Rim for the time being. I have a few places to investigate before moving Coreward," Taral said, "I'm also preparing an op, though I'd rather not say any more over this channel."
Councilor Yaden leaned forward. "You think someone has tapped our comms?"
"I think it's best to be cautious when dealing with monsters. My enemies are utterly ruthless, and I'd like to stay ahead of them," Taral said, straightening his back and nodding his head once, "Until next time, Jedi."
The line went dead.
Grand Master Skywalker broke the silence, "Thus far, Lara has been the point of contact between Taral and the Council. She and Saresh have assets on hand to observe him and Knight Lestin, as you all know. I feel this will be sufficient, any abrupt changes could spook him, and he's free to flee if he so chooses."
"I really wish Knight Lestin wasn't attached to this, Skywalker," complained Terena "She is far more at risk than Kerrn or Oro."
"I know, but she's the only one he trusts – if that's even the right word. I believe, despite her history, that Knight Lestin is strong enough to weather this mission's tribulations. And she is not alone in this."
Undien spoke up, "I agree with Terena, and this is one of the main issues I have with this entire exercise. She's always been susceptible to the dark side. Having her travel with a Sith is the height of folly. She will fall."
"That remains to be seen," Master Ritten countered, "Numa is stronger than you give her credit for. She is well aware of the danger he represents. I have faith in her."
"It's a moot point unless we plan to order the Justicars to arrest him," Battlemaster Shartan opined, "Once they're free of Nar Shaddaa, there's nothing binding him to us but our agreement. And there's nothing protecting Knight Lestin but herself and the observers."
"You've all read her dossier." Terena sighed. "You've seen how he treats her. He gets under her skin with hardly any effort. He is grooming her to be his apprentice."
Skywalker pursed his lips. "I'm not so sure. From my interactions with him, he seemed… nondenominational. I'm not positive he wishes to be a Sith Master."
"An apprentice need not be a successor, Skywalker," Dal countered, "Asajj Ventress was a tool, for instance. This man may attempt the same with Knight Lestin."
"A fair point, and one we'll need to watch for."
Councilor Palavola spoke up for the first time, "There is little to fear so long as Txon is nearby. This Taral has shown a marked difficulty in shielding his thoughts from an Extension of the Will."
The rest of the Council fell to silence, only Councilor Ritten willing to speak, "Has Master Oro sensed any duplicity from the boy?"
"Not in his dealings thus far. Admittedly, he has not submitted a report on the meeting we just had, but everything thus far points to a man terrified of being found by his Mistress. A man willing to swallow his titanic pride for a chance to strike back from a position of relative safety. So long as we offer him his best opportunity, I do not believe he will betray us."
"And if that is no longer the case?" asked Professor Najor.
"Then this alliance of convenience becomes untenable."
"Then it will be on us to maintain the relationship," Skywalker declared.
"I'm not certain this is the best direction for us to take, Daniel. It is ludicrous to trust such a man, and I have to question your recent actions," Undien began, careful to focus on the Grand Master's reaction, "You allied with the Mandalorians, even after Javen'Panlie's display of disrespect." He gestured to the hastily patched durasteel wall. "Then no sooner after that, you abandon them for this Sith. I think—"
"It is as I said, Undien. The information Taral can provide is more valuable than an alliance with the Mandalorian Union." Skywalker leaned forward slightly and steepled his fingers. "Ultimately though, our Order sits on a precipice. For too long have I sat here and watched as we rot from the inside. Losing ourselves to politics and intrigue as what it means to be Jedi becomes a corrupted caricature."
The Grand Master looked each of the other Councilors in the eye. "The old Masters would be ashamed of what we have become. We are on the brink of war. The Sith have returned, and I fear the weakness that has befallen us. And I fear that we are powerless to arrest our current trajectory. Special interests have become entrenched. What is needed to survive is unpalatable to those of us so deeply entwined with such scandal. Change is needed, significant change."
He took a quiet hiss of breath and schooled his features in solemn regard. "Effective immediately, I will be stepping down as Grand Master."
The announcement met silence, deafening in its intensity.
It was a stunning declaration. And for the first time in a long time, Undien was at a loss for words. Had he precipitated this? Had it been Skywalker's plan all along? So many questions. The other Masters were equally befuddled – though notably not Ritten and Yaden. It was unprecedented. Only a handful of Grand Masters had ever voluntarily resigned their post, and not one of them had been a Skywalker.
"I too will be stepping down," Councilor Tiian declared in the vacuous silence, shaking off his own obvious surprise.
Undien glanced at him, his eyes still colored by the shock of Skywalker's announcement. In the back of his mind he considered his good fortune that he could influence the filling of three Council seats – as in addition to these two resigning, Councilor Najor's term-limit was fast approaching. But at the forefront he was uneasy. Why would Daniel Skywalker step down as Grand Master?
"Are you certain, Pon?" Skywalker asked, "You have a few years left on your term and I feel the emotion in your choice. There's no need to sacrifice your position alongside me."
The kel dor Master shook his head. "No, Daniel, it is the right choice. I will admit, I didn't expect the day's events to conclude so abruptly, but we've seen what is to come. The Order is rotted to the core. There is nothing more we can do in this place, surrounded by these walls. It is time for the Order to chart a new path, one of profound change."
He turned his head to look in Undien's direction and the old Master was confused. Was Pon Tiian a secret ally of his all this time? Was he acknowledging the superiority of the Orthodox way? Did he think Undien was the one who could herald a new age for the Jedi Order?
It made little sense, but the politics left only one possible outcome. Did Master Tiian support that outcome?
Councilor Ritten spoke, her tone still agitated, "I told you before, Daniel, that I thought this was a mistake. And now Pon is joining you? Have you truly considered the ramifications of this?"
"I have," he said with a nod, "and I believe it is for the best… for all of us."
Undien cleared his throat, careful not to let the wiley Grand Master wrongfoot him again. "Then there is nothing left but to choose replacements to the Council… and to choose a new Grand Master."
"Indeed," Skywalker said, rising from his seat and leaning on his cane, "Then as my last act as Grand Master of the Jedi Order, I hereby declare this meeting of the High Council adjourned."
Daniel Skywalker and Pon Tiian left the Chamber. The remaining Councilors sat in semi-stunned silence – barring Councilor Ritten who quietly fumed. Each of them contemplated the peculiar circumstances, and wondered after the future of their Order. Some with hope and others with unease.
Light-years away on the gleaming metal orb of Coruscant, Karorm emptied his bottle of Whyren's Reserve brand Corellian whiskey – batch number NN182 – into his glass as the quiet of the night air was pierced by a splash and subsequent giggle. A compulsory glance confirmed – yet again – that there were two delicious young things frolicking on his balcony without a care. He eyed them with detached, clinical scrutiny. Committing everything about them and this moment to the perfect memory of his implants.
And he wondered, was he grateful for his graybox or disdainful of irrelevant memories clogging the RAM? Surely he wouldn't remember the models occupying themselves in the adjacent hot tub otherwise. They were like a pair of shoes – only worn once before being tossed aside. He sipped his whiskey and returned his eyes to the night sky – there were no stars to be seen, light pollution was ubiquitous here. The skylanes were constellations. The holographic billboards – three advertising companies he owned – were moons. It was a dead and artificial world and he loved it for its unnatural, hollow soul.
He felt a tingle near his left temple and concentrated on the adjacent muscle, opening a message from SCORPIO on his HUD – his artificial eyes taking in sights no one else could witness. He frowned. It was a beige alert, meaning his name had been mentioned in an official, governmental capacity behind closed doors. The alert went out the instant SCORPIO detected it.
He opened the live feed and hummed to himself as he saw the Jedi High Council in session.
"Karorm is a good man. He's saved millions with his generosity," Lara said indignantly.
Karorm smiled. He always appreciated the twi'lek healer. If more Jedi were like her, there might not be a need for people like him. He raised his glass for another sip but froze as he recognized one of the figures in blue hologram in the center of the room.
"You honestly think it matters what you believe? The fucking guy is a Sith. Infiltration is kinda our thing. Though it doesn't matter to me one way or the other, Karorm is a lackey at best. He's nobody."
Karorm finally sipped his libation and grumbled under his breath at the now-bitter spirit. Of all the people to break his cover, it almost seemed appropriate that it was a failed Sith outcast. Though he found it amusing that the boy remained so ignorant as to call him a 'lackey.'
Finally doing something meaningful for a change, Lucius? Karorm thought as he drained his glass and moved back into the house – alerting V-49 to evict his company for the night.
High Arbiter Mateil chimed in, "Even if Karorm is innocent, he has too many connections to the Order, up to and including some in this room. We can bring him in for questioning and debrief."
Then Eternal Watcher Yaden spoke his piece, "I've had my people looking into him since he was brought to my attention but they've found nothing. At least, nothing Sith related."
Karorm smiled. Thank you, SCORPIO.
He entered his palatial condominium, the heels of his gungan-leather shoes clicking on the polished marble. Another muscle twitch opened a menu on his HUD as he retired to the second-floor powder room – the wall behind the springwater refresher opening at his selection to reveal a sterile room of white walls and whiter lights. He made a note on his personal datapad to contact Master Ritten about their upcoming research fundraiser for the new ONA-456 virus that was plaguing the Outer Rim – offering the Jedi an opportunity to speak with him on his terms. Before that came though, he could use the Black Codex to nudge some favorable propaganda toward influential circles – nothing too overt, just enough goodwill to disrupt Taral's narrative.
He approached the nondescript medical recliner in the center of the room and laid back into the well-worn leather cushions. The sides of the headrest opened and small articulated probes with glowing blue tips emerged, clamping onto his head at the temples and crown. Another muscle twitch brought up the Ghost Protocol and a list of available personalities. Each one was him, but none were him. This one mimicked a traumatized refugee. That one was a cold-blooded assassin of the GenoHaradan. Then there was the one he sought, a flamboyant and eccentric trillionaire playboy.
To the rest of the galaxy, that was him. Those recently evicted guests of his? The Executive Committee of the TechnoUnion? High Councilor Lara'ritten? All saw him as this man. But if any could dive into his mind – like say, a Jedi interrogator could during a 'debrief' – they would see it as a real façade. He was that man, but he was so much more.
But not for much longer.
Selecting 'Personality-3a_default' from the list, Karorm quietly said goodbye to himself as the machine spun up and formatted his graybox and rewired his neural synapses. Once the memories and personality were scrubbed clean, the lights shifted from blue to amber as the new personality was uploaded – with preprogrammed instructions to leave the room before becoming fully conscious.
His eyes were cloudy as he made his way out of the room – only reclaiming their vibrant teal once the false wall clicked back into place. Karorm glanced around the room, confused about why he was there. He didn't need the toilet. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his datapad, nodding to himself as he made his way to his communications room.
This was going to be the best fundraiser yet. And maybe the good Councilor would finally agree to a private meal this time.
A/N: This is VASTLY different from the original version I spitballed so long ago. Not much to say about it given how different they are. Txon and Kerrn weren't a thing. Karorm was a nobody. And Taral would never work with the Jedi.
Oh how this little world has changed.
One final note, Numa's traumatic background was influenced by the manga "Bakemonogatari." I highly recommend you check it out. Or the anime adaptation. Praise the Crab, y'all!
Also, I gave twi'leks dark blue (almost ink-black) blood… Why? Because nobody seems to know what color it's supposed to be. I've heard red, blue, purple, and even clear like water. Then there are the dummies who think the blood is different based on skin color. In that case, each color would have to have a separate chemistry and then they'd be separate species. Given how loose Star Wars is when it comes to science, I wouldn't be surprised if it actually was different colors.