Final chapter of book II. Posted 5/1/2019.
RESOLVE II
15.
No rain had been scheduled for that day, but as the chronometer ticked over into afternoon the high sun became obscured by manufactured cloud formations. Their dark, sagging forms signalled to the pedestrians that it was time to get indoors. And quickly too.
It would later be reported as a malfunction, and the death of the Weather Control Officer on shift would be investigated and labelled as a work-place electrocution accident.
Garen's lips were set in a grim line as he swept his eyes along the sky, where thick thunderclouds gathered right above the Jedi Temple. The first rain drops all but evaporated when they hit the canopy of his starfighter. He still flew in loose circles around the great ziggurat, waiting for the enemy ships to return.
Smoke billowed out from the temple, its trail thrown to and fro in a jagged pattern by the wind. A particularly strong gust had Garen momentarily fighting the controls of his starfighter. Their ships were built to withstand adverse atmospheric conditions, but Garen knew that a lightning strike was unpredictable in its volatility. One strike might be absorbed by the ship's heat shielding, while another may trigger a catastrophic systems failure.
One simply did not willingly take chances with even the imitation of mother nature.
No choice today, Garen thought half miserably.
"Delta leader, are the skies clear?" A masculine voice crackled over the comm.
"It's as clear as it's going to get," Garen said, still scanning the skies for any sign of returning gunships. Minutes had passed since the gunships first retreated, and Garen's apprehension grew. Why hadn't they regrouped and attacked again? The soldiers on the ground were still fighting and dying. Surely their heavy ordinance hadn't abandoned them down there to their fates. Still, they likely weren't going to have a better opportunity to launch the evacuation ships.
"Your recommendation, Delta leader?"
"Launch when ready," Garen said. "But be cautious. I don't like that these gunships disappeared on us. They may be waiting for the freighters to emerge before they continue their assault. Delta squad will protect the flanks."
"Let's just hope they don't have control over the orbital defences."
Garen's heart leapt into his throat. He hadn't even considered the orbital defences. What if the freighters were blown to pieces the moment they left low orbit? "Well that would be a significant hindrance," he said. "Can we confirm?"
There was a brief pause in which static crackled through the comm, then, "Our tech expert says the orbital defences are currently online and actively scanning higher orbit and beyond."
"The ships will have to enter hyperspace before they reach high orbit then," Garen said.
"That sounds risky."
"It's less risky than getting shot at by canons designed to blow warships into dust," Garen wiped a hand across his brow where sweat was beginning to bead.
"I'll relay the message to the pilots. The Concordance will launch momentarily."
Garen turned his starfighter and slowed to an almost full stop as he hovered near the largest set of hanger doors. The enormous durasteel contraption rose smoothly to reveal the expansive interior of the hanger bay. A mid-sized freighter, with the capacity to carry around one hundred souls, glided forward once the doors were fully raised. It's ion engines surged as soon as it was free from the confines of the Jedi Temple, and it picked up speed as it soared into the atmosphere.
Flanking the ship on either side were several of the Delta class starfighters. Garen kept pace with the much larger ship and paid close attention to both his ship's instruments, what his eyes saw, and the Force. They reached low orbit and Garen felt a flicker of apprehension. He swerved left just in time to avoid getting blasted by the canons of a gunship.
"Contact," Garen said over comms before adjusting his course to intercept the gunship. "Deltas two, four, and six stay with the Concordance. Deltas three, five, and seven with me. We have to take out those gunships."
The smaller Delta's easily turned the tables on the slower gunships, but the gunships appeared to not even care about the starfighters. They stayed the course, aiming straight for the freighter.
They're suicidal, Garen thought as he knocked another one out of the sky.
The Concordance was getting closer and closer to higher orbit. Garen didn't want to find out whether the orbital defences had also been commandeered to attack them, so he keyed in a new frequency in his comm and said, "Concordance, if you don't make the jump to hyperspace soon we're going to find out whether or not those orbital canons are functioning properly."
"Understood, master Jedi," the shaky voice of a young man said.
Stars, realisation struck Garen speechless. It hadn't hit him until that moment that it wasn't only the Jedi affected by this sudden and aggressive attack. The innocent Temple workers, Force-bereft people who dedicated their lives to helping the Jedi Order function, were caught in this disaster as well He wondered how many of the people evacuating on the ships were now being forced to flee and leave their families behind.
A breath later the Concordance vanished from sight. Garen prayed that the jump sequence completed safely, then turned his starfighter around and headed back to the Temple.
One ship had made it off world. Many more still had to make the journey.
Dust elegantly flowed down shafts of light, creating soft illusions that travelled between Obi-Wan and the soldiers opposite him. The Jedi felt the subtle shift in the air as gravity pulled the minuscule particles to the floor. He heard his own heartbeat, and the metallic twang of safeties being switched off and blaster rifles being charged. He felt the vibrations from his lightsaber, more than he heard them. And he felt the Force coiling around him in a firm, bolstering embrace.
The slow passing of time before a dire moment wasn't foreign to Obi-Wan. Logically, he knew that time didn't truly slow down, and that it was his sensitivity to the Force that enabled him to experience this warped sense of time. This brief moment, before all hell would break loose, existed solely between him and the Force.
The unspoken message, We are with you, resonated through Obi-Wan.
For a brief flicker, as Obi-Wan watched the soldiers raise the barrels of their rifles towards him, he could have sworn he felt Qui-Gon Jinn's presence.
He stepped to the side and raised his lightsaber before the first shot was fired. Obi-Wan could see everything with a clarity he'd never before experienced. Each bolt of plasma travelling toward him was a slow moving target, and each soldier was little more than a statue.
The Jedi master flowed from parry into block, dodging and deflecting as he advanced on the white-armoured soldiers in front of him. Many soldiers fell before Obi-Wan even reached them, dying by the very plasma fired from their own guns as the Jedi angled the parries to deflect the bolts straight back at them.
Dust and debris was joined by corpses, and while Obi-Wan detested taking part in such slaughter, he knew these men would not hesitate to kill him. And then what stood between these soldiers and the evacuation ships?
Other Jedi were already fighting and dying to delay the invading army. He could feel their lights dim into nothingness as they fell. It pulled heavily at his heart, but he pushed the burden aside, knowing that if he did not he would fall as well. There was no room for distraction when so outnumbered.
Obi-Wan's blade danced through the crowded hallway, meeting with little resistance as its blue intensity cut through plastoid and flesh alike. Clad in the distinctive white armour it would have been easy for his eyes to deceive his mind into believing they were merely droids. But their cries, the smell of burning flesh, and their Force-presences dispelled even the briefest attempt to pretend.
No, he would face and accept what was real. These were men, not droids, and they were under orders. They'd been bred to follow orders. Obi-Wan very much doubted that they had personal vendettas against the Jedi Order. They were pawns on the dejarik board of an evil man.
We are all pawns, Obi-Wan concluded as he severed the barrel of another blaster rifle before knocking two soldiers up into the air and back against their peers. But I don't understand why Palpatine chose such a reckless gambit. Why command a military force to attack the Jedi Order, unprovoked and in broad daylight? It has to be all over the holonet by now.
His wandering thoughts nearly cost him. A thermal detonator sailed towards him from his blind spot, and it was only the vibrations in the air that forewarned him of the projectile. It was as he raised his hand to Force-fling it away that he realised how adaptable these soldiers were. In a very risky move the soldier had timed his throw down to the smallest of margins.
The moment Obi-Wan touched it with the Force, the detonator exploded.
Yet the Force had not left Obi-Wan's side. With as little warning as he'd had his reflexes proved efficient enough to save his life. Creating an invisible cocoon of Force energies around him he padded himself against the explosive power of the thermal detonator. The blast sent him crashing into the wall, which buckled beneath the concussive force of the explosion. More duracrete splintered away in chunks, pinning Obi-Wan to the floor and covering him in a thick layer of dust.
He coughed, dazed, ears ringing. Opening his eyes he flinched and shut them again against the shaking visuals. He coughed once more, tasting blood this time. Voices penetrated the monotonous ringing, their words muted but clear.
"That should have gotten him good."
"Yeah, Jedi or not, you don't just get up after that."
"That was a real ripper, Captain."
"Don't get cocky. Caution still advised."
Obi-Wan breathed through the pain in his chest and opened his eyes again. A veil of dust hung over the area, but he recognised where he was. He'd been blown through the wall and into the refectory nearest the residential wing of the Temple. It was a large space, and if he didn't move quickly the soldiers would no doubt surround him, and then kill him.
With more effort than it should have taken Obi-Wan pushed the duracrete into the air with the Force. No longer pinned by the weighty chunks he rolled to the side, and dropped the broken pieces to the floor once he was clear.
"Quiet! Did you hear that?"
"Hold your position and switch to thermal imaging until the dust clears."
Obi-Wan pushed himself to his knees. The grey veil between him and the soldiers was beginning to diminish, and he could barely breathe without folding himself in half in an attempt to ward off the pain. Blood rolled down the right side of his face and dripped down his chin. His tunics were torn in places, as was the skin underneath. Red fanned out over the cream colours. He knew he was in no condition to keep fighting.
He stared at the lightsaber still clutched in his right hand.
Did I buy them enough time?
"I'll be damned. . . Captain, look. He's still alive."
"Not for long, boys. We have our orders."
Never in his life had Obi-Wan given up. As a boy he'd come close, when, on the planet Melida/Daan, the Force had appeared so far out of reach. Yet even then he'd stood on his own two feet and found a way to move forward. Around him now the Force spoke to him loud and clear as the crystal heart of his lightsaber.
It is not yet your time.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The words conveyed such certainty and confidence, and the Force swirling around him felt strangely like how he remembered Qui-Gon's presence. His breath caught, throat constricting in wonder, relief, emotion. Whether it truly was Qui-Gon, or simply his own mind or the Force attempting to bolster him, the result was a flood of determination.
The Jedi pushed himself to his feet, pain numbed by sheer force of will.
"He's getting up!"
"Open fire, lads."
Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and the dance began all over again. Except this time his goal shifted from delay to escape. He sensed that he'd bought the evacuation all the time he was physically capable of. The only options remaining open to him now were either death or escape.
And it was not yet his time.
Obi-Wan used the Force to flip the switches on the refectory's service countertops. He reasoned that tables designed to keep food warm would surely interfere with the soldiers' thermal imaging. He then turned his focus on himself. All Jedi learned to control their own body temperatures, to varying degrees depending on species and ability. It was a useful skill to have when one could unexpectedly find themselves at the mercy of frigid ice worlds or suffocating deserts. Obi-Wan had never been exceptionally proficient in the skill, but he could lower it well enough to blend in with the quickly heating air.
All he needed was a moment.
"Captain the room's heating up. We've got to clear this dust or we'll lose sight of him again."
Opportunity rose to meet Obi-Wan when a soldier hurled a concussive grenade into the room. Obi-Wan forced it to change direction mid-flight and quickly deactivated his lightsaber. The grenade sent out shockwaves that knocked the troopers off their feet. It also served its purpose in clearing much of the grey veil hanging in the air.
Obi-Wan used the scant seconds the heated air and shockwave gave him to slip unseen into a service hatch meant for droids. It led to a larger maintenance corridor where a set of stairs could lead him all the way down to the Temple's foundations.
The sounds of battle and frantic troopers grew more distant as Obi-Wan quickly moved down the long service corridor. Pipes and cables ran along the roof above him, marking pathways to power cells and generator rooms. Obi-Wan stepped through a doorway marked for waste access. The stairs lay just beyond it.
He slid the doorway closed behind him, and came to a stop at the top of the stairs. He was tired, head aching, chest tight. He wanted to sit down and close his eyes. Instead Obi-Wan pressed on and began the descent into the very foundations of the Temple, where he knew he would find at least a maintenance vehicle.
Beyond that, he knew not.
The vacuum of space was quiet, but not void of life. Yoda stared out at the expanse from the safety of the bridge on the large Jedi vessel, known by its moniker, The Tranquillity.
Countless stars were scattered in all directions, and if one were Force-sensitive and calm of mind, one could learn to sense the currents of the Force. It flowed everywhere and through everything. It had been centuries since Yoda learned to sense the ebb and flow of the web of Force energies. In some places the currents ran weak, as though the strife suffered there repelled the very essence that once gave it vibrant life. Other places overflowed, the energies almost too strong to bear. These places were rare Force nexuses where convergences forged places of power. The Jedi Temple on Coruscant had been such a place, once.
Yoda shook his head sadly. The strength of the Force nexus on Coruscant had diminished over the centuries. Attuned to the Force as Yoda was, the change had been so subtle that it had escaped his notice almost entirely.
Perhaps if he'd been more attentive he would not be sensing the great disturbance in the Force on Coruscant now. Far away as they were after the short hyperspace journey, he could still feel the lives of Jedi fading.
Many had been left behind.
"We saved as many as could, Master Yoda," Mace Windu said, having sensed the old Jedi's thoughts.
"High the cost was," Yoda said, ears drooping even as he kept his chin raised high and his eyes on the stars. "Missing, how many ships still are?"
"Three freighters from Obroa-Skai have rendezvoused with us, and one from Tanaab," Mace sighed. "That's less than half, and they are all asking for answers. There is much uncertainty and fear spreading among us."
"Remember their training they will," Yoda said, voice brimming with confidence. "Shaken the Jedi are, but allow this fear to fester we will not."
Yoda looked at their reflections in the transparisteel. Outwardly Mace was calm, but Yoda could sense his disquiet. He sensed that there were questions the much younger man wanted to ask. There would be no answers for him, Yoda knew.
Jedi did not control fate. A Jedi accepted things as they were. It was a simple enough sentiment, but difficult in practice. It required an understanding and acceptance of one's own limitations, as well as an appreciation of the free will of others.
Free will.
Yoda frowned as the meaning of those two simple words were lost in the passing days' events. Free will was inherent to all sentients, and inevitably that meant that there existed those who would use their free will to manipulate the wills of others. There were those who used their free will to harm others for personal gains.
Yoda accepted this.
He would continue to lead the Jedi in the path set before them by their ancestors. He would continue to teach compassion, even in the face of great tragedy. He would not falter now.
"Wait much longer we cannot," Yoda said. "I sense the time is near."
"I will alert the pilots to stand by for your directions," Mace said before bowing neatly and moving to the comm console.
It was only a matter of time before they were pursued and found. The hyperlanes were all patrolled by more than just pirates, and if the Sith lord now commanded an army he certainly would not hesitate to use it to scour the galaxy in search of the remaining Jedi.
For now, the Jedi needed to disappear. And that meant they couldn't use the hyperlanes. They would navigate the galaxy the same way Jedi of long ago did; by using the Force as a guiding path. It was how masters still travelled to Ilum. It was how the Jedi kept certain sacred places secret. And it was how Yoda would now lead the Jedi Order to safety. With no hyperlanes leading to their destination it was the only way to disappear from the Sith's view.
The irony did not escape Yoda. For a thousand years the Sith had been in hiding, and when they finally revealed themselves they orchestrated the very near downfall of the Jedi Order. Now the Jedi were forced to disappear, their numbers thinned, and Yoda found his mind drifting towards thoughts, not of vengeance, but of ridding the galaxy of the Sith nonetheless.
Were they really so different?
Perhaps motive meant everything. Perhaps it meant nothing. Perhaps it was all the same in the Force.
Yoda resolved to meditate on it until the Force guided him to the right answer.
"To the pilots relay these coordinates," Yoda said.
Citizens of our great Republic, it is with a heavy heart that I address you this night. Earlier today a great battle took place on Coruscant. The Jedi have betrayed the Republic it has so loyally served for near countless generations. Our intelligence network discovered that the Jedi Order has aligned itself with Count Dooku and his Separatist alliance, and were planning to overthrow our democracy.
When the proof of this terrible betrayal was laid bare before me, I felt I had no choice but to act. The Jedi are known for their mystical abilities, including the ability to read and influence minds. I could not allow them to sow discord among us while portraying a façade of peace.
It turns out that the droid attack on the Jedi temple was staged by Count Dooku, and the Jedi themselves, in an attempt to garner sympathy for their cause. It is no secret that Count Dooku was once a Jedi Master. From what we have learned we now understand that he left the Order at the command of the Jedi High Council, to pursue this fracturing of our Republic.
It is reprehensible, and it deeply saddens my heart to know that an organisation we have entrusted peace and stability within the Republic to, has decided to abandon and betray our values.
I made an executive decision upon discovering these horrible truths, and enlisted the help of an army to arrest the Jedi. Here on Coruscant they resisted heavily, using their mysterious Force abilities to decimate the brave men I sent to bring them to justice. The Jedi chose to flee, and I as—
A single shot from a blaster pistol was fired into a holoterminal near the entrance of one of Coruscant's many underbelly alleys, instantly silencing the voice of Chancellor Palpatine.
"Oi, I was listening to that," a human man spoke with a gravelly, indignant voice. He wore a full-body suit, the kind one might find on a soldier or mercenary. His synthleather jacket was worn and scuffed, his dark hair unkempt, and would mislead the casual observer to think him a simple ruffian. But the shiny new gauntlets, the pistols strapped to his sides, and especially the thick scar running from cheek to chin showed that he was not a man to be trifled with.
"Kriff off, Rowek. You've heard it a million times by now," his teevan companion spat thick white mucous onto the already filthy street. He holstered his pistol, drew his black cloak tighter around his body, and glared at the man beside him with his one good eye. "Three days later and that poodoo is still being looped on every frequency."
"Of course it is, Shen," Rowek said, kicking a plastoid can ahead of him as they walked. He widened his eyes and made a mock dramatic gesture, saying, "It was a huge betrayal, after all."
"I got no time for political intrigues unless it gives me a fat paycheck," Shen grouched. "And we've been stuck on this shiny rock for three days now, all because they locked it down to coral any little Jedi who didn't escape with their big evacuation. Bantha poodoo. We've lost our bounty because of this kriffing mess."
"There will be other bounties," Rowek shrugged. "There always are. Besides, the travel bans are lifting today. Soon we'll be in hyperspace, and then you can complain about how long space travel takes without a class one hyperdrive."
"Shut up, Rowek," Shen sneered and turned his head away to avoid looking at his chipper companion. His eyes caught on a vehicle parked awkwardly in an alley. "Look at that. . . driver must have been drunk out of his mind."
Rowek stopped and looked down the alley. "Some kind of maintenance vehicle," he said. "Repulsors are still humming. Let's check it out." He didn't wait for Shen's reply, and immediately strolled into the alley. He stopped at the driver's side door and looked through the transparisteel window. "Holy chiszspit, Shen. There's a man in there."
Shen scoffed and walked closer. "Why in the nine hells should that be surprising?" He glanced through the window. "Oh kriff," he laughed, halfway between amusement and discomfort. "He looks dead."
Rowek stepped forward and yanked on the door controls. It opened and gave them an unobstructed view of the man lying on his left side across the front seats. His face was covered in dried blood, as were his tunics.
"Yeah, looks pretty dead to me," Shen said. "See if he's got any creds on him."
"Harsh," Rowek grinned and stepped forward. He started to pat the poor man down, but stopped almost immediately. "He's warm, Shen. Might still be alive," he said, frowing. Rowek placed two fingers beneath the man's jaw and felt a slow, but steady pulse. "Holy chiszspit, Shen. He is alive."
"Just check for creds and then leave him," Shen said, impatient. "He's not our responsibility."
"Have a heart," Rowek grinned, eyes shining as he started to drag the man out of the vehicle. Less than gently he lay the man on the filthy duracrete and rolled him on his back. A shine caught his eye and Rowek did a double-take, not quite believing what he was seeing. "I'm either high as a starship, or that's a lightsaber."
Shen, who had turned away and started walking back out the alley, paused. "What?" He said, then slowly made his way back to Rowek's side. He looked down at the prone man. Traditional tunics, lightsaber, looks like he'd been in a war zone. "I'll be damned," Shen whispered. "It's a Jedi."
"How much do you think the Republic would pay for him?" Rowek asked.
"You mean assuming he survives?" Shen said. "Look at him. He's half dead and probably on his way to being all dead soon. He must have been just laying there for three days already. He's not getting up again, and a dead Jedi is worthless. But I bet we can fetch a high price on the black market for that weapon of his."
"But what if he does survive?" Rowek persisted. "You know I heard a story once of a Jedi falling off a mountain and breaking both his legs. He meditated and healed his own bones in just a few days. Walked out of there good as new."
"It's just stories, Rowek," Shen said. "Don't be an idiot."
"What if it's not," Rowek urged. "What if he's in a deep Jedi mystical meditation right now, healing his body. How else do you explain him still being alive? Look at him!" Rowek pulled at a tear in the Jedi's pants to reveal the wound beneath. "See? I'm right! If he got that wound three days ago, there is no way its healing should be this far along already."
Shen glanced at the wound. It was scabbed over, the size of the cut well diminished and surrounded by pinkish, quickly healing flesh. He sighed, but could admit his companion had a point. "All right. Say you're right. I doubt the Republic would pay us anything for him," he said. "But a Jedi has always been a rare commodity. Now that they are quite literally an endangered species I'm willing to bet the Zygerians will pay a pretty price for him."
"Slavers?" Rowek's grin slipped off his face. "You want to sell him to slavers?"
"Why not?" Shen shrugged one shoulder. "It'll be the highest payout we'll ever receive."
"Yeah but," Rowek stood to his full height and rolled back on his heels. "We're bounty hunters, not slavers."
"Look, Rowek," Shen held his hands in the air. "I know you don't want to tread near the slave trade, but—"
"We hunt criminals," Rowek said.
"You think the Republic is going to care that we sold a Jedi into slavery? They want to bring the Jedi to justice. The way I see it, it'll be the same thing," Shen placed his hands in his pockets. "The difference is we'll get paid."
Rowek's conflicted feelings played out on his face. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, then sighed. His decision was made.
"We're going to need sedatives."
END OF BOOK II
A/N: Thanks for reading. The first chapter of Resolve III will be posted next weekend as a new story. If you don't want to miss it, be sure to hit the follow author button so you'll be notified when it's posted. Alternatively, visit my profile next weekend to find Resolve III. To all the guests I haven't been able to respond to; Thanks for the kind words. To those I haven't responded to over the holiday period; Apologies, it's been a busy time.
Book III is finished. Only editing remains. So expect my weekly updates to continue for the foreseeable future.
See you next weekend and happy new year.