After finishing breakfast and dealing with more thanks and concerns from the locals I headed back to the Temperance. I regard the ship as I enter. It's small, compact, fast and ugly. It's basically a large rectangular box with spaceship bits added. It's Brutalism as applied to spaceship design. Functional, but grotesque. Perhaps it's aesthetics appeal to some alien sensibilities or maybe I'm the victim of some utterly uninspired interior or background art. At least I'm not in a sneaker, that's something I guess.
I gather everyone into the main room and outline what happened.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get them.' says Alek.
"I suggest patience, we need to be properly informed before charging in." counsels Tamman.
"Yes, see who is coordinating these attacks. It could be a cover to acquire the land or some other resource," says Alana.
"Well, you would know all about that," says Surik.
Alana turns and looks at her. "What do you mean by that?" she says.
"You're the Corp. You tell me." accuses Surik.
"Not anymore. I am currently a lay member of the Jedi," says Alana.
"Yeah, and who are you..." begins Surik before I interrupt.
"Enough. Alana, you raise an interesting point. I suggest looking into that at the council building or local library. Take Alek with you." I say.
Alana pauses, then rises with an, "Of course Revan." before leaving with Alek trailing her.
I wait until I hear the main door open and close before looking at Surik.
"Care to explain yourself Padawan Meetra Surik?" I say using her full name to let her know how much trouble she is in.
"What? You don't seriously believe she's not a plant? Just worming her way into your little harem?" says Surik folding her arms.
My what? "I trust Alana and she's no Czerka plant. I'm helping her find her way because she got a bad deal in life."
"Yeah, and we can all see where the cards were stacked." grouses Surik.
"What's that supposed to mean? Yes, Alana was likely hand-picked to push every one of my buttons, but let me make this clear. I am still helping her. She is a person in need and as Jedi, we are required to help her. Just as we need to help these townspeople out. Now, are you going to come and help or would your time best be spent meditating on our role in the Galaxy?" I say.
Surik stares back at me. One of the let's call it a feature of the Jedi Order is that we're all strong-willed. Probably helps explain all the splits, schisms and outright falling to the Dark Side. "Oh, I'm coming. You'll need my help when they come back. After all, three's the best number. I'll go get ready." she says before departing.
"She's an odd one," comments Tamman.
"You can say that again. I think your initial suspicion is correct, Kavarr did arrange this. Not as a spy, just putting her eccentricities somewhere else." I say.
"Why you though?" asks Tamman.
I'm Revan. She's the Great General. "Mission to the Rim? Be about a half standard? Fieldwork may smooth those rough edges off? There are lots of reasons, all of them good." I say.
Tamman nods. "Yes. You're right. Still, there's something, I can't, not sure what it is."
"Maybe you are sensing her future and turmoil yet to be," as if I couldn't guess.
"Maybe. Not like you Revan," says Tamman with a smile.
No, not like me at all.
Twenty minutes later we are strolling down the main street. Well, Tamman and I are strolling.
"Hey, wait up!" calls Surik from behind.
I turn and try not to smile. Surik is dressed in what she assures me is called 'half armour'. Blast dissipating padding, ceramic plates on top and some sort of kinetic sheath underlay with a shielding pack. On top of that, she's packing enough heat to storm Korriban. A heavy blaster and ion disruptor are holstered at her sides along with some weird longarm slung across her back. Also, a large belt with several species of grenade, trauma patches, stimheals jammed in for easy access. That pack she's carrying probably has a full medkit as well as some other surprises. All I know is that this part of the planet has an arid warm climate, emphasis on the warm. Your average Jedi Robes may look like cheap homespun cloth common to the Galaxy over. It is, in fact, state-of-the-craft omni-wear. Keeps you cool, warm, dry and also free of parasites.
"Certainly," I say as I pause and let her catch up.
"Some rough edges?" whispers Tamman as Surik staggers up.
I shrug. "I see you believe in the adage to 'be prepared' Meetra,"
Surik just looks at me. "That's right," she says.
We're currently at the edge of the town. Ahead there are a few more houses along the road which curves to go up the nearby hill. As I scan the surroundings there is a prompt from the Force. I follow the hint and catch a glint of metal on the ridge. Hmm.
"I sense it too," says Tamman. "There's..."
"Wait. Surik, what's on the ridge about fifteen drift of us?" I say noticing the ultra-tech visor she is using.
"Got it. I count, nine bikes with riders and two larger signatures behind the ridge. Most likely grav haulers. Looks like ten to twelve beings apiece on each." she reports.
I look towards Tamman, who nods.
"Okay then, let's go see what they want," I say and start walking.
"You're just going to walk out there?" says Surik.
I turn round "Yes, we can't communicate very well from here. Well, I guess we could, but it would be showing off. Come on." I say and turn back to walking.
"You really are mad Revan. We'll be totally exposed, they're in an ideal position, with the high ground, able to easily surround us." Surik protests.
"Why yes, an excellent tactical summation and one I would certainly consider if this were a battle. We however are going to talk, ask them what they want. When talking it is considered best not to alarm those you are talking to." I say.
"What if something happens?"
"Then we shall put our trust in the Force, and your outstanding arsenal to survive," I say and resume walking.
Truth be told it's a rather nerve-wracking walk all the while in the sights of some very unsavoury types who do have all the advantages Surik mentioned. Still, there is the Force. What I'm sensing is mostly caution and wariness. These are bullies and thugs. They are used to pushing civilians around. Not troopers. They were not expecting a Jedi Knight and are understandably curious as to why. There's also anticipation from one individual up there, mixed with respect. Looks like we have a special guest star.
Here they come now. Three bikes. It's Pizza Face, some new guy and someone in Mandalorian armour. They come near, dismount and approach. The two gangers walk with the confidence of covering fire. The Mandalorian, well, now I know who was looking forwards to impending mayhem on their side.
"That's him, that's the one," says Pizza Face, pointing at me.
"Greetings. To business. What are you doing here?" I say.
The other ganger actually puffs himself up. "I am Alguapo, I am..."
"Sorry? Was I speaking to you? Well, Mandolorian?" I say looking straight at the armoured figure.
"You don't speak to me like that!" bristles the ganger as he draws his blaster. There is a dual fwoom as Surik and Tamman ready their weapons. Pizza Face follows with two blasters.
"How about introductions. My name is Revan, Jedi Knight. Yours?" I say.
There is a rumbling from the armour suit. "You're a cool one Jedi." There is a click and the armoured helmet retracts. "I am Pal Manx," he says.
How does it go again? Oh yes, no gender, easy on the tenses, "So Manx, do we continue the ancient enmity here? Now? It will be the Battle of the Pizza." I Mando'a
"There are less glorious initiating battles," says Manx, giving no surprise and better yet, no criticism to my syntax and pronunciation.
Behind me, I hear a muttered "Oh, of course, he knows Mando." from Surik.
"Yes, the War for the Bucket. That honour goes to Clan Ordo. The Manx have no such glory to their name." I say.
"What are you saying Jedi," says Manx. Ouch, Jedi is one four-letter word.
"We fight the Battle of the Pizza. It is in the legacy of the Manx. Or, we repair to a pub I saw in town and speak of the time you meet me on, say Onderon. You descending by Basilisk and meeting me blade to sabre, might to faith on a world of ferocious warriors and we speak not of this place."
There is a pause as the crazy Space Viking considers their options.
"Yes, let's speak of that battle," he says. Manx then turns to the gangers. "Withdraw. I will negotiate further with the Jedi," he says in Basic.
"But, but" they begin.
"Withdraw now," repeats Manx.
Reluctantly, the gangers mount their bikes and leave. My companions deactivate their weapons. We begin walking back.
"Is he just going to leave his speeder there?" asks Surik.
"How many times has someone tried to steal that bike?" I ask in a loud voice.
"Once," says Manx.
"So, a Jedi and a Mandalorian walk into a bar," I say.
"Did they? I'm told they left no witnesses," replies Manx dryly.
I'm in a bar with a representative of one of the Jedi's perennial enemies. The place cleared out initially but has filled back up as everyone gathers to watch. We're sitting at a table with a large jug of beer, two glasses, Manx's blaster and my lightsabre on it. I pour the drinks and nod towards the blaster as I raise my glass.
"Iolo arms?" I ask.
Manx nods. "Series five, dual capacitors, ion enhanced."
"Nice."
"I see yours is a Prosecutor. What did you say your vocation was?"
"Historian. Most of my time at Temple is spent within the archives."
"A rather aggressive weapon for an academic," says Manx as he pours.
"You ever tracked down a primary source in this Galaxy?"
"Okay, point. You seem to know our language pretty well."
"You know what they say. Know thyself and know thy enemy." I say as I refill.
"And you shall win one hundred battles. You also know the General." Manx nods in approval.
"The words are true."
"The words are true."
"Now for the real question."
Manx raises a hand. "I'm not revealing my employer, also you're not my type."
"I wasn't asking that. What I want to know is this. Why are we enemies? Don't trot out that 'The Republic is weak' crap you tell the kids. The Mandalorians have been at the gates for millennia. The Republic is still here, the Jedi are still here. One day both Mandalore and Jedi will be gone. That is a fact. All that will be left of us is our tales, our stories, ou myths. So my question Pal Manx of Mandalore. Why do you choose the legacy of barbarian? Why be the enemies of civilisation, remembered as those who too often preyed on the weak, the helpless? Why is that what you choose to be remembered as?" I say.
Manx downs the contents of his glass and sets it on the table. He then looks at me.
"What else is there?" he says.