Chapter Three: Other Paths to Victory

Caecinius found Satele Shan, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, kneeling in the meditation gardens at the Ruins of Kaleth. She felt his presence as he approached.

"Master Caecinius," she said. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

He bowed, but said nothing. Satele opened her eyes and studied him, taking in the deep bags under his eyes.

"You are not sleeping," she observed.

"I manage enough rest to move forward," he replied stiffly. "I am ready to fight."

She sighed. "Of course. You are always ready to fight."

Since the incident at The Forge, the man his students dubbed "The Swordmaster" had grown restless and withdrawn. She had witnessed the battle between Caecinius and his one-time friend, Bengel Morr. Caecinius had rescued her from Bengel and the Flesh Raiders he had controlled – but had killed his friend in the process.

She had heard Bengel's final words, and had seen Caecinius's stricken face in response to them:

"You are the weapon I came to forge."

"Have the Flesh Raiders become active again?" Caecinius asked, pulling her back to the moment.

"No." Since the battles that ended in Bengel's death, the Flesh Raiders had receded. Even Kalikori Village, the Twi'lek settlement that had been their frequent target, had enjoyed a respite. "They sustained heavy losses. I suspect it will be some time before they again present a threat."

"We should deal with them. Why give them a chance to regroup and threaten us again?"

Satele countered. "Even in this recent incident, the creatures posed no real threat to us,"

"No threat?" His eyes flashed. "They were about to murder you!"

"That was my own carelessness." She had not sensed Ranna Tao'Ven's betrayal, had dismissed the anxiety of the new Twi'lek Matriarch as grief over her mother's death. "Even so, it was Bengel Morr who subdued me, not Flesh Raiders."

"They may be licking their wounds now, but eventually they will attack again."

"Unless we can open communications with them."

Caecinius looked dumbfounded. "You want to… what? Invite those monsters to the Council Chamber for a chat?"

Satele's smile was ice. "Perhaps eventually. Recent events show that they possess a degree of intelligence. They spoke. If we could understand something of their culture, what motivates their violence, we may find a way to forge peace."

Caecinius remained silent, but she could read his internal protest. What culture could these brutes possibly possess?

"Their current withdrawal presents an opportunity," Satele continued. "They have abandoned camps and settlements, not far from Kalikori Village. This gives us a rare chance to observe the places where Flesh Raiders choose to live," Satele said. "Perhaps we can gain some idea of what they value, maybe even find common ground. If we can prevent future violence, that would be worth more than a dozen battles won."

"Perhaps." Caecinius didn't disguise his skepticism. "But I'm no anthropologist. I'm hardly the best choice for this mission."

"Master Gehnso will lead the mission." Kalisa Gehnso was a middle-aged human Jedi, well-known for her fascination with tribal cultures.

"So I'll be her bodyguard."

This made more sense, but Satele refused to let him off that easily.

"I expect you to actively participate in the examination of the camps. A lightsaber is an important tool for a Jedi, particularly in troubled times. But in most cases, there are other paths to victory."

Caecinius said nothing, but his furrowed brow showed his displeasure. Satele pretended not to notice.

"Master Gehnso is waiting for you at Kalikori Village," she said. "I suggest you depart at once."

He arrived to find the Twi'leks raising barricades around the village. They were making rapid progress. Fencing, barb wire as well as wood, was already in place, and a group of farmers was digging a deep trench around the area. Markers were in place for more fencing on the far side of the trench. On its own, it would not repel an invader – but it would make an attack both slower and more difficult.

Ranna was in the town square, watching the workers while talking quietly with Kalisa Gehnso. She stiffened when she saw him arrive. Her skin grew a paler shade of blue when he glared at her, but she held her ground.

"Master Caecinius." Ranna greeted him with a slight bow. "I am happy you are here. Let me apologize again for recent – "

"Save your apologies." He had no interest in feigning politeness.

Ranna flinched at his tone, but quickly recovered and managed to meet his glare. He was almost impressed in spite of himself. Maybe she would make a good ruler after all.

"I will leave you and Master Gehnso to your Jedi business," she said. Another bow, and she was gone.

"Little is gained through rudeness, Caecinius." The gentleness of Kalisa Gehnso's tone did not make it any less of a rebuke. "The past cannot be changed. All we can do is learn from it. Fostering a closer relationship with Ranna Tao'Ven and her people will prevent future problems between us."

"With respect, Master Gehnso, my experiences have taught me that if someone betrays you once, it is better not to give them the chance to do so again."

Kalisa's expression did not change, but he could sense her disappointment. "We will agree to disagree. In any case, this is not why we're here."

She turned back to watch the Twi'lek farmers as they continued the slow work of extending their trench.

"We were lucky no padawans fell to recent attacks." He could hear sadness in her voice. He understood why. Jennora Rythe, her own padawan, had been completing her final pilgrimage to The Forge two years ago. She had not returned. Scouts had found signs of a Flesh Raider attack along the path. Her body had never been recovered, but the amount of human blood had left little doubt of her fate.

"Jennora was an excellent student," Caecinius recalled. "She would have been a fine Jedi."

She had been the last padawan to make that pilgrimage alone. Now students were escorted, and the Flesh Raiders had quickly learned to leave them to their journey.

"I sensed her final moments," Kalisa said. "Terror… Agony. Then nothing."

Caecinius said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"The Grandmaster told you of our mission?" she asked.

Caecinius nodded. "I am skeptical," he said frankly. "Just because a few Flesh Raiders spoke, that does not inherently mean they can be reasoned with. In all the time we have been on Tython, they have never shown an inclination toward anything but violence."

"That may be true. But even if there is no common ground to find, this may at least help us to better understand our enemy. Either way, what we do today may spare future padawans from sharing Jennora's fate."

He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He was used to hearing Jedi scholars discuss only peace and pacificism. Then again, she had felt her student's death. If anything, she bore even less love for the Flesh Raiders than he did.

He glanced up at the sky. It was already mid-day.

"We should get started," he said. "It would be best to reach the site before dark."

After the occupation, Coruscant's medical center had been one of the first buildings rebuilt. The Empire had paid little heed to class differences, sweeping through rich sectors and poor with the indiscriminate destruction of a supernova, and the numbers of citizens requiring ongoing medical care had been staggering.

Not that people from Cress's background had been able to get much sustained care even after the facility opened, he reflected. Street rats and their families could go to clinics. The only way the poor got treated at the medical center was if there was an emergency that couldn't be handled at a clinic.

Or if they were in the Republic Military. Service members and their families had a full wing reserved, with care paid for by the government.

Lt. Jorgan was out of the bantha tanks. He was dressed and fully conscious. He even had a visitor: Qyzen Fess, the Trandoshan who had also been injured on the Brentaal Star.

The two didn't initially notice Cress. They both stared intently at a holoscreen that displayed security footage from the incident - watching and rewatching their takedown by the young Imperial Agent.

"She let us live," Jorgan observed.

Qyzen agreed. "We were not her prey. And she did not consider us a threat."

Cress cleared his throat. "Where did you get that?"

Qyzen tensed at the realization of a new presence. Jorgan just grunted.

"I still have a few friends left. At least for the moment." He rewound the footage again. "You're a hunter?" he asked Qyzen.

The Trandoshan shrugged. "I was. Maybe will be again. First duty now is to serve and protect Herald."

Jorgan noticed Cress's confusion and explained. "The Jedi from the ship. The Cathar. Qyzen believes she is some kind of Herald for the Trandoshan god."

"She is Herald," Qyzen said firmly. "As hunter, I have not lost points since cub. These last weeks, all points wer lost three times over. Is Scorekeeper, reminding me to focus on new path. I will protect Herald. I will not fail again."

"Me either," Jorgan's eyes remained fixed on the recording. "My people had a hunting tradition, too. Back on the home world, before the Mandalorians, clan warriors would prove themselves to the gods through Blood Hunts. Now Cathar who follow the old ways have to make pilgrimages to find worthy prey. But when they identify a target, they will follow it to the ends of the universe."

"Is good," Qyzen said.

Jorgan glared as the holographic image of the Imperial agent firing on him as he charged.

"I was never one for my people's traditions," he said. "But if I get the chance, I might go on a Blood Hunt of my own."

"She is worthy prey," Qyzen replied. "Would be worth many points, much glory in Scorekeeper's eyes."

Jorgan managed a smile. "Well, if I get a bead on her, maybe I'll shoot you a message and let you in on it."

"If duties to Herald allow." Qyzen bowed. "Either way, I wish you luck with your hunt."

"And you with yours," Jorgan said.

Qyzen bowed again, then withdrew.

Jorgan turned to Cress. "At least you did well. You drove the Imps off the ship, sent them running with their tails between their legs. They'll probably give you lieutenant's bars after they yank them off me."

"This wasn't your fault," Cress protested. "The General had a Jedi escort, and even that wasn't enough."

"Tavus wasn't my fault, either. Doesn't matter. Somebody has to take the fall. Fortunately for them, there's a Cathar around." Jorgan paced to the window to look out on the endless city. "I'm sorry, Poster Boy. Here you came to check up on me, and I've done nothing but bitch at you. Tell me what's going on. You get yanked in front of the Senate yet?"

Cress filled him in on the day's events. Jorgan chuckled when he described his blow-up at the Senate hearing. Then narrowed his eyes when Cress talked about his conversation with Senator Kayl.

"Military grade weapons in the hands of a local street gang?" A low growl came from inside his throat. "She's right about the threat. When are you meeting your smuggler friend?"

"Right after I leave here."

"Good. I've spent 48 hours in a bacta tank. I'm ready for a little action."

Cress shook his head. This was a bad idea.

"There's no way you're mission-ready," he protested. "You need time."

Jorgan jutted his chin out stubbornly.

"Listen, Sergeant. I'm still your superior until the brass tells me otherwise. I am accompanying you on this mission, and you will shut up and accept that as Divine Writ. Unless you're planning to run back to General Garza to get her to order me off."

Cress shook his head. "No. I won't do that."

Jorgan wasn't wrong in thinking that his career was in danger. Cress thought of Senator Krasul's determination to pin everything on the lieutenant, and General Garza's ambivalence. If Jorgan was part of an operation that helped a senator, then maybe the damage could be mitigated. Even if it couldn't, Cress didn't have the heart to deny him one last mission.

Jorgan getured impatiently at him.

"What are we waiting for, Sergeant? Let's meet our new friends and get started."