-Chapter 90: Know Your Enemy-
Location: Thune
"Those who are dedicated and dutiful will be reward with intelligence."
In the Halls of Healing...
It had only been a few days since the dramatic prison break that had seen The Wraith freed from Republic custody and Anakin bedridden with sixteen slug wounds. And in that time, the Republic was left reeling by the events that had unfolded in less than an hour.
Whoever had planned this was good. Very good. They had known how to eliminate the Republic's security and defence, compromise what had once been a safe plan, and had a source of backup the likes of which completely boggled even the most strategic of minds.
Worse yet, there came the revelation of a second Separatist super-soldier.
Still an unknown but proven very much a threat, the notion of their forces combined caused even the most stoic military leader to shudder.
For months, The Wraith had gotten the better of them at almost every turn, winning battles and completing dangerous missions that cost them resources, manpower and an edge of their enemies. What might happen now that there were two?
It was something few wished to think about, while for others it was the first thing on their mind. Much like in the case of Ahsoka, slumped in a chair half-asleep next to Anakin's bed in the Halls of Healing. Great was her concern for him, she cared about him deeply. He was her teacher and mentor, and while rough around the edges, he meant a great deal to her.
Ever since Rig Nema had tended to him, Ahsoka hadn't left his side. She could remember that night with vivid clarity, recalling the visual of his body lying in a pool of his own blood, feel his pockmarked robes from where the slugs had entered, smell the sharp invading stench of freshly spilt blood.
If she ever met that Ubese again, she swore she would bring him to justice... if not do him in right then and there.
Though right now, fogged up, more asleep than awake and barely clinging to coherency, she wasn't exactly in a position to do that. A fact further proven when her senses failed to warn her of another presence as a hand settled on her shoulder. Blinking her heavy eyelids, Ahsoka looked up through bleary eyes to see a familiar pale face framed on one side by dark red hair.
"Hey," Wraith softly greeted. Ahsoka shook her head and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
"Hey." She tiredly replied. She looked haggard and worn out. She likely hadn't left his side since she was allowed admittance. Wraith understood that, Anakin was something of a... well, he wasn't sure if he was like a parental figure or an older brother to her. Given their ages, older brother seemed accurate. Either way, she cared greatly about him, likely more than any other Jedi would allow themselves to.
That was the thing about Ahsoka, she wasn't your average Jedi. While some might see this as a flaw to be ironed out, Wraith saw it as part of her loveable personality.
He sat down beside her, an arm around her shoulders as she stretched and yawned.
"How is he?"
"He bled, a lot. Master Nema says the process will take time. The slugs were hard to remove, they were all stuck in him." She explained, sounding very tired. Sixteen slugs, all requiring surgical care and attendance. Wraith could only imagine how intense that operation was. "Some of them punctured a few organs, but they weren't high caliber so the damage was lessened. But the concussive effects did more damage... so he's gonna be here for a while."
"I thought Jedi could restore wounds like this." He wondered, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder in a reassuring manner.
"Certain healers could, but one wound at a time. Right now, they've exhausted themselves just removing the slugs. He needs time for his body to kick in." Ahsoka responded. "Just like with my black eye." Wraith nodded in understanding, mentally cataloguing his limited knowhow of Force Healers. "Why d'you ask? I thought you hated him." Ahsoka wondered.
"I do," Wraith stated, "but if you're concerned then so am I." He also admits. Ahsoka manages a tired smile. He's saved her more times than she can remember right now, always the sweet one in their traitorous relationship. Even now, with his worst enemy unconscious in bed before him, he cares because she does. "Besides, I want to be the one to do him in. Not some random Ubese." Ahsoka chuckled, but then stretched and yawned reflexively. "You should sleep." He suggested.
"I... I can't-" She tried to argue, but her exhaustion refused to enable her to finish, especially when Wraith cut in.
"You can't help him if you wind up next to him." He gently told her. Ahsoka knew he was right, he and countless others before who'd told her the same thing.
"Yeah... okay..." She relented, rubbing her eyes. Wraith took pity on his exhausted sweetheart and fetched a glass from the table in his room.
"Here, drink this." He offered, Ahsoka giving him a confused, askance look. It seemed like he'd just pulled the glass of pink liquid out of nowhere.
"What is it?" She wondered, still accepting it.
"A vitamin drink. Meant for me, but I think you need it more." Wraith replied.
"Thanks." She was grateful, truly, and drained most of it in a single swig, impressing Wraith. "How are you doing?" She asked, wiping her lips on the back of her glove.
"Got in a shower, some bacta, a few kolto injections and a decent night's sleep. I feel better already." He replied. It was at that moment that Ahsoka realized he was shirtless, save for the white bandages circumferencing his body.
"Bone bruises are healing?" She wondered, feeling warm.
"Slowly but surely." He assured with a soft smile. "How about you? How are you handling all of this?" He asked, mentally kicking himself for not asking that first. Ahsoka just sighed.
"It's been... a lot, these past few days." She admitted, rubbing her eyes. "There's just been so much going on... I think I need a break." Wraith nodded in agreement, his thumb gently rubbing her exposed shoulder. She nodded slowly and took another sip. The thought had crossed her mind several times over the past few days. The poor Togruta was feeling stretched thin, in dire need of just taking a break from everything. Others might suggest she needed a moment to meditate in order to get her energy back, but Ahsoka felt like a change-up was in order. She needed to break up the mundane routine of just hanging around the Temple. She needed to do something different...
Then, with a look of sudden recollection, Ahsoka turned to him. "Hey, remember when you mentioned you were planning on taking me on a date?" She asked. Of course he did, it had never left his mind to begin with. "Does that offer still stand?"
"Would you like to go out for dinner with me?" He asked with a smile.
"Yes please!" She enthusiastically replied, nodding as well. Wraith couldn't help but chuckle.
"Okay, I'll start to work on that and send you the details once everything's figured out." He promised as Ahsoka passed him back the now-empty glass.
"'Soka," Wraith froze where he was as he recognized Corsair's voice and wondered for a split second if he could be seen. Ahsoka jolted, startled and stricken by the fearful notion that she'd been caught in the midst of this connection. But as the Titan approached Ahsoka, Corsair appeared to not take notice of Wraith, his gaze fixed on Anakin, "bloody hell, 'e's shor seen bettah days." He commented.
"Corsair? I thought you were gone?" Ahsoka wondered, offering Wraith a quick glance as he eyed her worriedly.
"We were. Then all a' this sithspit 'appened an' low an' behold yor Chancellah's callin' me back. Sayin' Wraith's outta hock and ya got two supah-soldiahs now." Corsair replied, turning to her with arms crossed.
From his perspective, he saw Ahsoka sitting alone with an empty chair next to her.
"That's... about the gist of it." She slowly agreed. Corsair merely grunted in acceptance as he cast another look at the recovering Anakin.
"Been meanin' ta say, sorry fo' punchin' yor lights out at Seventy-Nines. Complete accident, nevah meant ta." He suddenly added, not turning back to her. Wraith deadpanned as Ahsoka was taken aback, not once even expecting him to apologize.
"Apology accepted." She responded as soon as she found her tongue. "What are you doing here?" She then asked, getting back on track.
"Jedi called me in ta talk 'bout 'o sprung Wraith. On my way to a meetin' now." Corsair replied.
"Am I... invited?" Ahsoka queried, confused as to his current presence.
"If ya want." Corsair passively replied as he made his way out the door. Wraith and Ahsoka were left in silence for a few seconds before the super-soldier chuckled.
"What's so funny?" Ahsoka asked.
"He just apologized for the whole reason I attacked him and wound up getting imprisoned." faith told her. "In an ironic sense, it all seems kinda pointless now."
"Funny how life goes, isn't it?" Ahsoka responded with a chuckle of her own. "Full of unexpected twists and turns, ups and downs... it seems like a lot sometimes."
"Those ups and downs are best handled in pairs." Wraith mused, affectionately squeezing her hand. They shared a brief smile before he rose. "I've got to go, but call me if you need anything." He instructed. Ahsoka nodded.
"I will." She promised.
Throwing on a fresh shirt, Wraith knew Scipio wanted to speak with him. He'd passed off the ruined remains of his armor so that Corsair's blood could be tested before taking a hiatus, and hoped that was what the Pau'an wanted. So he arrived in the hub, looking barely ready for anything and approached the good doctor sitting by the holotable.
"Doc, what's the word?" He wondered, sitting across from him.
"First of all, how are you feeling?" Scipio responded as he looked up form his work.
"Oh you know, a shower, some bacta, some decent sleep and I'm ready to roll." Wraith mused with a grin. He was feeling much better now, safe in the confines of the Dominance instead of a Republic prison cell. "So, what's going on?" He pried. To answer, Scipio pulled up a render of his test results.
"I analyzed that blood sample as you asked and I was able to compare it with samples in our database," he began, "and I was able to find a match." That grabbed Wraith's attention hard and he leaned forward with hands interlocked.
"Show me." He quietly stated. Scipio did as asked and toggled a readout before them both.
"The only file we have, which is indeed from Project Sunfire." The Doctor stated as Wraith speedily read through the Aurebesh lines. "His name is only listed as Corsair, though, not a full name." That was unfortunate, but at least they now knew Corsair's many skills could largely be contributed to the Sunfire Serum. But the lack of a full and proper name bugged Wraith, for different reasons.
"There's something about that..." He mused, pursing his lips in a thoughtful manner. "No parent just names their kid 'Corsair'. That has to be either a title or a nickname."
"Agreed. But why?" Scipio wondered. Wraith shrugged, as stumped as he was. The problem with nicknames was that there really was no rhyme or reason. They could be related to anything, either because their cool or funny or indicative of something.
"That's what we need to figure out." He determined. "What else is on there?"
"Age: early-twenties." Scipio continued, scrolling down the file. "His homeworld is listed as Thune." That also grabbed Wraith's attention.
"Thune." He repeated. "That's in Wild Space."
"Indeed it is, just barely within the grip of the Republic but also just beyond it to be a rather lawless place." Scipio agreed.
"If he's from there, then that's where I should go. Hopefully I can find some information." Wraith decided, standing up and stretching. "I'm guessing I'll have to use one of the spare armor sets?" He wondered.
"All except for this," Scipio announced, producing a helmet from beside him, "freshly updated and largely maintains the traditional look but has a slight hardware update." He stated as Wraith walked over to check it out. The single button on the side used to retract his mouthguard had been split in two. Pressing the upper switch, the optics moved out and slid up the forehead, fully revealing an opening for his face.
"Huh, retractable optics. Not bad." Wraith mused.
"Just in case they become cracked or marred beyond use. This way you can still see." Scipio described.
"Cool." Taking it, Wraith slipped the helmet on and was ready to suit up... but then Benshee entered the room.
"Wraith, Doctor, what is to be done?" She asked in a brisk, precise tone.
"Going on an intel run." Wraith replied, the optics sliding down over his eyes and powering up. Banshee seemed to pause and ponder that in a state of misunderstanding.
"I... had hoped we'd be going on a mission." She eventually replied.
"This is a mission." Wraith clarified as he started walking. "Not everything a super-soldier does is glamorous. You come with me and I'll teach you some things."
"I second that notion." Scipio agreed. "It would be good if you two learned how to work together." Banshee slowly agreed.
"Very well."
The Jedi war room was populated by just Masters Windu and Kenobi, until Corsair and Ahsoka arrived. They stood around a holotable, a myriad of images and data on display before them.
"Alright, jus' what tha bloody hell did ya sad lot call me in for? I got a business ta run, ya know." The Titan curtly wondered.
"Pleased to see you too." Mace dryly responded. "We wanted to discuss some things with you."
"Well make it bloody quick, I'm due ta meet wit' yor Chancellah soon ta renegotiate our contract." Corsair retorted, crossing his arms.
"During the attack that freed The Wraith, numerous individual gunmen appeared to aid his escape. They bore no symbols of known criminal organizations or Separatist allies, leaving us stumped as to who they might work for." Obi-Wan explained. "Assuming you have much knowledge of the Coruscant underworld, we're hoping you might be able to fill in the gaps for us." Corsair smirked.
"Assumin'." He scoffed. "I'm actually su'prised ya don't wanna talk 'bout that new supah-soldiah 'o sprung 'im. I understand they got themselves a schutta now."
"Indeed..." Obi-Wan trailed off, mildly put-out by Corsair's harsh language. "Unfortunately we know next to nothing about her."
"Apart from the fact she has a sonic emitter." Ahsoka remarked, her montrals aching at the thought of more deafening sonic energy.
"Which alone is something worth investigating. However, our bigger concern is this near-army of seemingly random individuals who have the skill and organization to handle our defences with relative ease." Obi-Wan continued.
"Wasn't exactly 'round ta see tha news. Can ya gimme a clue as ta 'o these blokes were?" Corsair inquired.
"We have recovered some footage." Kenobi replied, bringing up a series of holorenders from the devices located around Military Headquarters. Corsair didn't really need to look, he had been there after all, but acted interested as he watched the mixed gang of hitmen go to work on the Republic's Clones. "Any thoughts?" Obi-Wan asked after a while.
"Coulda been any one on tha list." Corsair mused with a shrug. "I mean, from what I've 'eard, yor Clones did alright, not great but alright, against this lot."
"You think their skills are an indication of who they work with?" Obi-Wan inquired.
"I didn't say that."
"Then what are you saying?" Mace demanded, cutting right to the point.
"Mate, I worked wit' Jango Fett back in tha day. Got inta a real good scrap wit' 'im too. I know how he works, an' he shor as hell wasn't tha best bounty huntah I've evah met." Corsair retorted. "Since all a' yor Clones are ripoffs a' him, I'd figah the odds was even."
"You worked with Jango Fett?" Ahsoka wondered.
"Yeah, we pulled a couple a' jobs on Concord Dawn, them Viszla folks were a right regulah pain fo' tha locals. Sorted 'em out real good." Corsair answered.
"What other bounty hunters have you worked with?" Mace asked. Corsair chuckled.
"'O haven't I worked wit'?" He responded with a grin. "Cad Bane, Aurra Sing, that Bossk kriffah, hell even my fair share a' droids. Them IG models are somethin' else."
"Would any of them match those who we fought against?" Obi-Wan queried.
"Well, the Ubese speak fer themselves. A right nasty species as a lot." Corsair responded, having met and worked with one in the past. "As fo' tha rest, someone prolly put a hit out. Likely that Dooku charactah."
"So he-"
"He prolly hired whoevah was dumb enough ta take his creds in exchange fer causin' ya trouble. That's what this group is. A bunch a' determined thugs, not top-quality like me an' tha Titans." Corsair surmised.
"So they're non-aligned." Mace surmised. "I'd say that's even more worrisome."
"Naw, that new supah-soldiah's gonna be hahdah. She's bound ta give ya a run fo' yor creds." As he spoke, Corsair pulled out a cigarra and lit it, quickly puffing a small cloud of smoke much to the annoyance and irritation of the Jedi. "So if Skywalkah's out cold, wha's happenin' ta 'is crew?" He wondered.
"Padawan Tano has been temporarily reassigned to General Koon and we've recalled Xur Eon and his Five-hundred and Second legion to take temporary command of the Five-Oh-First until Anakin has recovered." Mace answered.
"Ah, so ya've got yor own network, 'ave ya?"
"We know how to cover our bases." Windu simply told him. Corsair chuckled.
"Hopefully, ya can cover 'em when that new soldiah stahts wreakin' havoc." He replied.
Elsewhere...
With the coordinates locked in, Wraith launched his shuttle into hyperspace with Banshee sitting beside him. Still getting used to the concept of having a partner, it felt strange to be sharing such an assignment with somebody... well, else. So used to going it alone, Wraith felt awkward and even a little nervous. But, assuming he could sort this out in due time, decided to act calm and collected and follow through with Scipio's suggestion of becoming better acquainted with his new partner.
"I know you're itching for combat, but a super-soldier can be tasked with many things." He said, breaking the silence.
"I'm aware," Banshee retorted, "and I'm not always itching for combat."
"Your reaction to the mission details told me otherwise." Banshee fell quiet for a moment, swiftly learning Wraith was a very observant individual. His reaction might be subtle, but there was no fooling him.
"Yes... I suppose it would've." She simply replied. Wraith nodded as a rather uncomfortable silence ensued.
"So what's your story?" Wraith asked.
"To give you the short version, I'm an Umbaran. I watched the Republic slaughter my people and conquer my world. Now it's oppressed and I want nothing more than to pay them back for what they've done." Banshee told him. That brought a few details to light that Wraith mentally catalogued. He had a feeling such information would be needed in the future, for further interactions with her.
"A sound reason to fight." He determined. "Keep that fervor on tap, just remember to channel it." He instructed.
"Yes sir." Banshee quickly affirmed. That struck him as different, having rarely been referred to as 'sir' before.
"There's no need to call me 'sir'. We're partners now. I'm Wraith, you're Banshee, simple as that." Wraith told her.
"But you are my superior, in both station and service. I've only been called a 'super-soldier' for so long, you were the first." Banshee replied. "I feel bound to honor the disparity between us." Something about her dedication to the chain of command offered Wraith another insight into her character. He knew Umbaran society well enough to know their rigid caste structure, and that left him with a few more questions.
"How did you become a super-soldier?" Wraith asked her.
"My father attempted to advance his status by assassinating his superior. It failed. But my father's superior liked his work and wanted to keep him around, but on the single condition that I join the program as a test subject in order to restore my family's honor." Banshee replied.
"Ouch." That was a hard way to wind up fighting for the cause. She likely would've had a much different life if her father succeeded. "So what did they run you through?"
"I received all standard issue militia training, as well as some additional training from Techno Union specialists." Banshee answered. "As for my person, there's a gas I breathe in that bonds with my molecular structure, advancing my physical potential to near-zenith levels."
"I'm guessing you can't remove your mask like I can." Wraith mused.
"Indeed."
"I know the Umbaran militia breathe a gas that suffocates them when released. Is that the same with you?" He wondered.
"No. In trial runs it was discovered that, when removed from the source of the gas, the subject had twelve hours before their body began to deteriorate." Banshee responded. "If I must remove my helmet or disconnect from the primary source, it is advisable I restore the connection as soon as possible."
"Rough, but better than dying on the spot." Wraith determined.
"Agreed." Banshee affirmed with a nod.
"I would suggest you make sure that lifeline of yours is well-protected. Don't want to lose anything via a rupture or sudden fault."
"The gas travels through a secure route. My neck and shoulders are the most armored part of me for that reason."
"Good. At least they were forward-thinking in that regard." They fell silent again as Banshee worked up the courage to ask a question of her superior. In reality, she was almost as nervous as he was, but for very different reasons. While Wraith had never had a partner before, Banshee had heard all about him and now, through fate or fortune, her circumstances had brought her into permanent contact with him. Still so new to all of this soldiering business, she had her fair share of questions to ask the super-soldier.
"Can I ask you something si-... Wraith?" She asked, catching herself. He nodded. "How does it feel?"
"How does what feel?"
"How does it feel to be a super-soldier?" She clarified. "How do you handle the... all the reputation and responsibility?" It was an honest question, and a good one too. Wraith was pleased to know she possessed such a mindset. Others might get carried away with the notion they could do all the things he could. She seemed to be... well... scared.
"I simply remember what I'm fighting for. There are millions, if not billions of people who have helped to make the Confederacy a viable force to be reckoned with. They are making a contribution towards change, much of which is funneled into me." He answered. "As for how it feels... it can be very rewarding to know you've just ensured that someone no longer lives under the Republic's corruption." He added. Banshee nodded slowly, understanding it was more of an experiential thing she had yet to understand. "Give it time, Banshee. You'll see what I mean."
"All I feel right now is a desire to avenge my people, my world, everything I lost." Banshee quietly responded. "I just want to take the fight to the Republic."
"And you will, in due time." Wraith assured her. Another silence. Another opportunity to pose a new question.
"Why do you think it failed?" She wondered, asking for his opinion. "The defence of Umbara?" She might be raw and bitter over the loss of her home, Wraith tried to respond as honestly as he could.
"That may be because of multiple factors." He posed. "I think we relied too heavily on Pong Krell and his deception, hoping he could destroy their armies from within. Or maybe we should've sent droids as well to aid the militia." He suggested. "We may never know."
"I watched the Jedi they call 'Kenobi' slaughter my people, cutting them down like they were nothing. He showed no remorse... no pity..." Banshee revealed. Wraith took that in stride, understanding she had possibly even more motivation than he to be in this war. He'd been taught about everything he needed to stop.
She had experienced it.
"I promise you, you will have a chance to avenge him." Wraith vowed. Banshee nodded.
"Thank you, sir." She quietly responded, slowly growing lost in her thoughts. Leaving her to her thoughts, Wraith was prepared to do nothing further when he heard a familiar beep.
It was his private holocom. Only one person had this frequency...
"I have to take this. Stay here and keep tabs on the controls." He excused, rising and leaving the cockpit. Banshee offered a quick nod as he disappeared into the modified passenger bay in the midst of the craft. Scipio had seen to it the entire lounge be retrofitted with a proper weapons locker and storage space, but left a few seats behind. It as on one of these that Wraith took a seat, triggering his comms in the process and revealing to him a render of Ahsoka. "Well hello there, my love." He greeted with a smile in a lowered voice.
"Hey handsome. Whatcha up to?" She wondered. Wraith had a feeling she was bored and needed someone to call.
"Just zipping through hyperspace... with my new partner." He answered.
"Partner? Wait, let me guess, that new super-soldier?" She wondered.
"Bingo." He affirmed.
"So what is she, your girlfriend?" Ahsoka teasingly asked.
"Wha-... No! Of course not!" Wraith spluttered.
"Well, you and her, alone together, sounds like a date to me." She continued, offering him a knowing smirk.
"It's not-" Wraith trailed off before losing his statement to a chuckle. Ahsoka was just messing with him, teasing him as only she could. "You have no idea what a date looks like, do you?"
"Considering I've never been on one, no. I only know things from holonovels and the HoloNet." She responded. Wraith could only shake his head. Romance holonovels tended to blow everything out of proportion. It'd be up to him to set things straight.
"Well, you'll get to experience one soon enough when I take my actual girlfriend on a date." He confidently replied. He could see Ahsoka smile in an almost embarrassed manner. Maybe it was in the way he referred to her as his girlfriend, which she definitely was and even she would admit that. But it still bore a surreal element that seemed strange to them both, like their entire relationship was an impossibility that actually happened.
"I'll hold you to that." She softly replied. A quick glance to her left indicated she might have something to deal with. "I have to go. Talk soon." She told him in a hushed tone.
"Okay." Wraith agreed with a quick salute before her side of the call was terminated. Sliding the device back into his jacket, Wraith leaned back in his seat and paused momentarily before rejoining Banshee.
He was in love and it felt good.
Back on Coruscant...
With the debrief completed, Corsair unable to offer much help apart from the Titan's continued services, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka departed just as Corsair made to do the same until Mace stopped him.
"Just a moment, Corsair." With a sigh and an eyeroll, the Titan turned to face the Jedi.
"Now wot?" He grumbled.
"In the reports we received from the Clones on Umbara, it was noted that Krell referred to you as Estobarr." The Jedi told him.
"Yeah... 'e did." Corsair slowly responded, narrowing his one good eye.
"He has spoken of an Estobarr before, when he was still in our company." Mace continued. Corsair could see exactly where this was going.
"I bet 'e did." He rumbled.
"Then you would be the same Estobarr from Thune all those years ago."
"What's it to ya?" Corsair wondered in a disinterested tone. Mace simply crossed his arms.
"How is your family doing, Estobarr?" The Jedi asked. Corsair's mood soured instantly, his expression darkening as his forehead creased.
"My name... is Corsair." The Titan responded in a low, threatening tone. "And I think ya know bloody well how my wife is doin'." He shot back.
"Not since the Separatists took the Citadel." Mace told him. Corsair sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Bloody hell." He mumbled. Not Meline...
"And how about your son?" Mace continued, without a care for his reactions. Corsair shook his head sadly.
"We lost tha baby." He muttered under his breath.
"You what?" Mace pried, seeking clarification.
"WE. LOST. OUR. BLOODY. KID." Corsair responded in a much louder voice. "'Cause you lot wouldn't leave us alone."
"Meline was taken into custody almost two decades ago. Neither you or your child were found on the scene. What happened?" Mace demanded. There was nothing assuring or friendly in his voice. He wasn't trying to help Corsair, only get something out of him.
"She made me promise, befor' y'all took 'er away from me, that he'd nevah hafta live as a Jedi. So I thought I made shor. I thought I passed 'im ofta some decent people who'd keep 'im from ya indefinitely. Instead, 'e became just anothah body on Project Sunstorm's ledgah. Just anothah nameless on a long list that eventually resulted in a certain supah-soldiah." He ground out.
"That would explain some of your vested interest." Mace realized.
"So you'll pardon me if I find a sense a' closah fo' givin' that kriffah tha bloody works." Corsair spat, turning on heel and making to leave. But he stopped by the door, leaning against it as he rubbed his face. "Why couldn't ya just leave us alone? Ya've got ovah ten-thousand Jedi, did ya really need two mor'?" He wondered, sounding pained and drained.
"We did what was necessary." Mace calmly replied.
"Did ya?" Corsair scoffed.
"Jedi do not let emotions cloud our judgement. We do what we must when one of our own is involved." Mace continued in a rather accusing tone. Corsair turned around, his gaze even but firm.
"I'm a haunted man, Jedi. I don't give a damn 'bout yor platitudes. 'Cause a' you lot, ya took everythin' from me, I've got nothin' but ghosts followin' me. Now I'm just tryin' ta close tha lid on it." He stated. "If you'll pardon me, I've got two supah-soldiahs ta hunt." With that, he left, leaving Mace alone. He'd known Corsair was the same man from almost two decades ago, he and every member of the Jedi Council who'd been involved in that case. But knowing the fate of that forbidden relationship now seemed to answer several lingering questions.
He hated to open up that case, but maybe he should if only to put it to rest.
With another grumbling sigh, Corsair departed the war room and stood still for a second as the door sealed behind him. He was a man who wasn't known for vulnerabilities or even for having a heart. He'd sealed those up a long time ago, though, and toned down his sense of care after having lost everything. His entire life had been shattered and he hated to think about it. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he determined then and there he needed to do something to forget. He couldn't lead the Titans in this state. Visiting 79's was out, and he figured he'd likely need to get off world for a bit... but not before he settled on a course of action.
While Corsair had every intention of finding something to 'drown his sorrows', he had a few questions he wanted answers to. It might take time, but it would likely be worth it. Before arriving at the Halls of Healing, he'd heard voices in Anakin's room and had stopped to listen. It sounded like Ahsoka was talking to herself but, as the conversation continued, he knew someone else was involved. Someone unseen and unheard, confirmed when he entered the room. The mention of a date had really piqued his curiosity and now he was wondering if there might be some way for him to find out for certain who she was in a relationship. Far be it from him to try and break things up, after all he had gone and married a Jedi a long time ago, but such information could prove useful in the future... if proven true.
He'd seen dozens of hints, but he wanted to be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Later that day, on Thune...
Thune City was old and by no means as modern by the standards of Coruscant. It was a merchant city, popular with smugglers, spacers and traders, anyone wanting to do business or make a few credits. Narrow streets ran alongside many canals, with tall buildings made of a dirty-looking yellow stone lining the city center.
It wasn't much to look at, nor was it a place of secrets... as the two super-soldiers were discovering.
Wraith and Banshee had concealed themselves on the roof of the local law enforcement building, both of them hacked into the local network and working their way through the criminal records and ID files. Night had fallen, both of them were shrouded in darkness away from the bright white moon above, only their matching red optics left to illuminate their surroundings.
"I've got negative on Corsair in the databank. It's definitely not a proper name." Banshee reported.
"As we figured. Try checking it as an alias." Wraith suggested, busy maintaining their encryption bandwidth. He doubted anyone in this backwater city would even notice the hack, but he liked to make sure. You never know when some eager, bright-eyed newbie decided to go the extra mile...
"I've got a match, but it's partial." Banshee stated after a few seconds. PArtial was not what he was hoping to hear, but it was better than nothing.
"To what end?" He pried.
"First and middle name. 'Estobarr Marchellus'." Well, that narrowed it down... kind of. Leaving his coding alone for a moment, Wraith could not match the name, as he'd never heard it before, and carefully decided their next course of action.
"Pull up a list of every 'Estobarr Marchellus' in their databank." He instructed. Banshee's fingers flew across her holographic pad as she keyed in the information.
"I count twenty-four entries." Geez, that was a lot.
"Now crossindex by species, specifically humans." Wraith continued. Banshee did so.
"Six entries."
"Read off the surnames."
"Barathan. Fer'ill. Karn. Mad'an. Serrith. Zavos." Plenty of randoms to pick from. They needed to narrow this down even further.
"Does the alias match any of them?" Wraith asked, hoping to score a direct hit with one final pairing. Banshee ran a quick scan.
"Um... no." She replied.
"No?" He wondered, raising an eyebrow under his helmet. Banshee offered a frustrated sigh.
"It... looks like a lot of files are here, but there's nothing connecting them. It all exists, but in a disjointed and impossible fashion." She told him.
"Meaning the possible permutations are-"
"At least six. At most, over six million." Wraith sighed as well.
"Any renders to ID them with?" His partner shook her head.
"Negative. This appears to be a new system, the previous having been destroyed during a virus hack close to a decade ago."
"Dammit. Backwater sloppiness..." Wraith cursed, his hack powering down as he facepalmed his helmet. "Then this has all been refreshed, and I bet whoever did it was lazy." He mused, cursing their luck.
"It's Wild Space. Nobody really cares." Banshee replied.
"Good point." With a huff, Wraith activated his helmet comms. "Doc, you read?"
"Right here, my boy. How goes the search?" Scipio responded.
"It's coming up bad, there's not a lot here. All we've got so far is a name. Apparently Corsair was considered a juvenile when he committed these crimes and because he gave up residency in the system before age, the files remained censored. All we have is a first and middle name, but no surname or family or anything else." Wraith dejectedly told him
"So we can consider that a dead end?"
"Yes, unfortunately." Scipio hummed thoughtfully just as Wraith was planning on getting back to the shuttle.
"Give me that name and let me run it through our servers." The Doctor proposed.
"Estobarr Marchellus."
"Spelled the way I think it is?"
"Yup."
"I'll run some cross-references and get back to you shortly." Scipio promised, signing off immediately after. Wraith picked himself up, Banshee quickly following suite as her holotech dissipated.
"Come on, partner. Nothing more for us here." He stated.
"Right behind you, sir." Banshee replied, following right behind him. Wraith cast a quick glance over his shoulder as her choice of words. "I-I mean... Wraith."
"You know, you straight up called me 'soldier' back on Coruscant. Why the sudden shift?" He wondered.
"I didn't know I was to be your partner back then." Banshee excused. "But... now that I am..." She trailed off, not continuing. Wraith decided to fill in some blanks.
"It's because of the castes, isn't it? You're used to having someone above you." He theorized. Since Umbara heavily revolved around a rigid, caste-based society (one where advancement was impossible without some degree of subterfuge), there likely hadn't been a single aspect of her life that wasn't governed by someone of a higher authority.
"I suppose it is, yes." Banshee relented. "But you must understand, that is my way of life. It may not be yours, but it is mine."
"I get that. I'm just trying to understand. I've never worked with an Umbaran before." Wraith agreed, trying to sympathize with her. "And I'm trying to teach you how to be a super-soldier, so I need to know where you're at."
"I know how to be a soldier." Banshee countered.
"But have you been called upon to handle the entire Five-Oh-First Legion? Have you been tasked with penetrating the Republic Defence Network, which even the best slicers say is impossible? Do you know how to walk around undetected by Clone guards, even though your face is on every holoscreen for miles around?" Wraith asked. Banshee fell quiet. "The militia can only teach you so much. I know you're skilled, I know you're good, but we've yet to see your full potential. We have yet to see you do the impossible."
"But... things are impossible... for a reason, yes?" Banshee meekly asked.
"From certain points of view. That's exactly what we super-soldiers were made to do: the impossible." Wraith gently told her. "What's impossible for others, is possible for us. I want you to be able to do that just as well as I can." His speech was interrupted by the triggering of his comms.
"Wraith, do you copy?" It was Scipio.
"Go ahead, Doc."
"I was able to do some further research and I found a flat on Foundry which was leased under Corsair's name." He announced. Surprised, but grateful, Wraith accepted the new clue.
"Well, that's another lead..." He mused.
"But that's not all. His name was not the only one tied to the lease. There was a woman's name; Meline. Also no surname." That surprised him even further. Corsair had a woman close at hand? Someone had low enough standards...
"The fact that no surname is mentioned leads me to believe that they were trying to hide something." Wraith determined. He fell silent as he mentally wracked his mind for possibilities, Banshee observing him with a minor sense of curiosity. Watching him work was rather fascinating, even if she wasn't totally in the loop about how he worked. "Can you do a search for the name 'Meline'?" Wraith finally asked.
"I already have, and you're not going to believe where I found a match." Scipio responded. Startled, Wraith continued,
"Where?" The Pau'an's answer shocked him.
"The Citadel. Prior to the Clone Wars, one of the prisoners there was named 'Meline Udia'. She was incarcerated less than a year after the lease on the flat was dated." Before being commandeered by the Separatists, the Citadel was used to house rogue Jedi. If Meline had been sent there, then she had to be a Jedi. Corsair shared a flat with a Jedi?!
This just got interesting.
"Alright. What do can we find on her?" Wraith wondered, pressing on with a sense of excitement rising within him.
"The Citadel's records aren't very... well, detailed." Scipio reluctantly admitted. "What I do know is that she was incarcerated seventeen years ago, and was classified as a rogue Jedi."
"She must've done something with Corsair that earned her that title." Wraith determined. "Doc, do you think they were trying to hide from the Order on Foundry?"
"It's a definite possibility." Scipio agreed. "Unfortunately, the Citadel did not keep any more records after we took it over, and the prisoners were randomly deposited onto varying worlds."
"So I heard," Wraith replied, "try to scrounge up the travel data, Doc. There might be a flight plan or two still on record."
"I won't guarantee anything, but I'll try." Scipio cautioned him.
"That's all I can ask for." Wraith stated as he signed off.
"Back to the Dominance?" Banshee wondered.
"Yeah, Thune doesn't have anything more for us."
"But we came all the way out to Wild Space... just to get a name." Banshee realized, seeing this as nothing more than waste of time and resources.
"Sometimes that's how the mission goes." Wraith agreed. "The important thing is that we did it. If we hadn't come here, we wouldn't have gotten a name and found that flat on Foundry."
"But it's such a small victory." Banshee countered. The militia would've never settled for something so insignificant. It was all or nothing, total victory or horrendous defeat.
"The small victories tend to add up." Wraith told her. That gave something for Banshee to think about and Wraith accepted the momentary silence. He realized Banshee would need to learn a whole new way of life, a task that was the furthest thing from easy. But if he could couple it with her desire for revenge and channel it into a driving force to do better, he had no doubt she could achieve the same feats he could. He'd develop something later, as he'd likely have to coordinate with Doc about it all.
Besides, he had a date to plan in the meanwhile.
Elsewhere in the galaxy...
The throne room was sparsely populated, only a few guards and a slave were in the Queen's presence. Then a messenger arrived,
"Your highness, there is a man here to see you." He stated.
"And who is this man?" The Queen inquired.
"He says he is an... 'old friend'." The servant replied. Raising an eyebrow, the Queen was quite curious. She had many friends from varying times in her life and wondered who might use such a cryptic turn of phrase.
"Let him in." She commanded. The servant bowed and moved to obey as the Queen rose from her throne and descended to the main floor where she shooed her slave away. Minutes later, the doors to the throne room opened wide as a human was ushered in, a short yet stocky man who the Queen did indeed recognize. "Corsair!" She exclaimed.
"Miraj Scintel," the Titan replied with a toothy grin, "s'pose I can't call ya princess no more." He mused as he strode right up to her. "Pleasah ta see ya again, Queen Scintel." He greeted with a bow and kissing the back of her hand. The Zygerrian queen was easily a few inches above Corsair, but she could care less considering how positively dashing he looked even though he was much older now than he had been when they first met.
"It has been some time, you scoundrel." Scintel responded with a warming smile of her own, as well as offering him a brief flutter of her long lashes. "What brings you to Zygerria? I thought my father had scared you off for good."
"He almos' did. But I needed a break, an' figahed I'd call on an acquaintance of mine. Check an' see if my welcome hadn't entiahly worn off." Corsair told her.
"We were hardly just 'acquaintances' back in the day." Scintel replied with a soft chuckle. Corsair had once been her... escort for a few days, when her father, the King of Zygerria, had left to oversee business on a new extension of Kadavo. A princess and a young mercenary couldn't have been a better recipe for trouble.
"Fo' a night, at least." Corsair countered with a shrug. "Still, missin' those days is what finally brought me back." He mused.
"Dearest Corsair, I'm touched to know you missed me. I missed you too." Scintel cooed, touching his arm and his admittedly large biscep. "As long as I am Queen, you are welcome to stay as long as you like." She declared as he offered her his arm and she took it.
"'Preciate it, Miraj. Sorry, yor highness." The Titan corrected himself as they made for the nearby veranda.
"Please, Corsair. With our past, you may call me Miraj." Scintel told him with an alluring smile.
"As tha lady wishes." Corsair replied with a smirk and a tilt of his head. "I promise I won't trouble ya too much. Jus' long enough fo' me ta feel refreshed."
"Care to stay the night?" Scintel wondered with a twinkle in her eye. Corsair kept smirking.
"I was hopin' ya'd ask." He responded.
