Padawan Halai – Jabba's Palace
She was still shaken from the last fight, even if she wasn't showing it. Once the adrenaline had faded, once they were in a place relatively peaceful, her mind began to go back to the fight on the ship, to the pirates she'd killed and the Mandalorian she'd just mutilated.
It was her first time really being able to think. Everything had been a rush since her surprise victory on Geonosis, no time to think or sit down and contemplate. Even at the Jedi Temple, it'd been back to the task of restocking supplies, sitting through a briefing, and rushed training.
Now Jabba was making them wait in his anarchic dwelling, with Durel assuring them that he was just trying to make them sweat. He called it a rather common practice when one wanted something, he just couldn't imagine what it was.
They'd been offered drinks, and she'd been rather irritated when a Twi'lek dancer had shimmied over to their table in the outer chamber and offered to entertain Dilt, but they remained otherwise unbothered by the horde of unsavory types littering the palace.
Now she just had time to herself in her own corner of their little 'room', merely an area of the guest area that had been partially sectioned off from the rest of the palace.
Their faces kept flitting through her mind, the Mandalorian clutching at the missing stump of his forearm surfaced again and again. It was hard for her to process the death, the meditation only serving to worsen it as she was shut out from anything else and left only to her thoughts.
Neria was interrupted from her meditations as her teacher walked into the small area sequestered from the main area by furniture. The knight cut quite an intimidating figure in the darkness of the palace, his face harshly contrasted by shadows, but she supposed they all looked much the same in the poor lighting.
"I can sense your disquiet, Padawan," Knight Durel said quietly, sitting down across from her. "What troubles you?"
"Sorry, Master," she said. "I just...I've been thinking about the people on the starcruiser that I...well..."
"I see." He leaned back, languidly stretching in his seat. "It's easier when it's droids, isn't it?"
"Yes, they're just programming, metal shells."
"And yet, they have some measure of sentience as well, wouldn't you agree?"
Indeed, he had a point. She'd often overheard droids speaking to each other. Even the thickest of the bunch, the standard battle droids, had personality and cognitive functions that weren't that different from anyone else.
"I...I suppose."
"It's a shame, that we subject teenagers to this war," he said, shaking his head. "At one time, you wouldn't have even be in a situation to see a real fight until you were at least a decade older."
"I can handle myself, Master, you've seen that."
"Of course I have. But I speak not of your responsibility, but ours. The Jedi are supposed to be peacemakers, problem-solvers. We were to protect our youth, not subject them to horrors." His eyes almost seemed to go unfocused, his voice airy. "Can you imagine what it must've been like in the days of old? When the Jedi worked more toward the advancement of knowledge and societal stability than war?"
"The other Jedi speak of you as one of the best small-unit commanders in history, but you seem rather enchanted by the idea of a peaceful galaxy."
"And why not?" he asked, eyes coming down to hers. "I'm a good commander—maybe even a great one. That doesn't mean I can't see a bigger picture. That doesn't mean I don't wish to see a galaxy without death. How many species have we seen brought to the brink of extermination? How many population centers have been wiped clean in all this?"
"All the more reason to end this as quickly as possible."
"True." He looked back down at his untouched drink. "It'll be easier for you to think that those pirates were just evil personified that needed to be killed. When you have an enemy that wants to kill you, waffling and wondering what sad events led them to their circumstance can end in the death of you and those alongside you." His gaze panned to Tank and the clones in the corner. "They've had to learn that lesson and come to terms with it in their own ways. You could, too."
Padawan Halai was not an orthodox Jedi, she knew that much, but she had learned enough from her teachings to find his suggestion wildly out of step with their teachings.
"But that's a strange way for a peacekeeper to think."
"Yes it is." He smiled up at her. "The life of a soldier is a very difficult one, Neria, one that often necessitates a black-and-white thinking in order to survive. Many Jedi have also begun to turn in that direction. The struggle you're feeling right now, it's good, I'd worry were you not having difficulty with the lives you've taken. I'm here to teach you the ways of the Force, but how you wish to develop as a person is your business. My suggestion? Don't take the easy path. Our soldiers are a gallant and admirable bunch, but the Jedi aren't supposed to be soldiers."
"Then how do I come to terms with what I've done?"
"You tell yourself it's a necessity, that sometimes the galaxy forces you into confrontations that you're never going to come out of peacefully. Killing is the easy way out, and sometimes you won't have another option. But we are peacekeepers, are we not? If you have the opportunity to find an other way, take it."
Neria wasn't completely satisfied with the answer, though as he'd hinted, that was something of the point. She still didn't know how to truly digest the lives she'd taken, but at least he'd given her some path to follow.
The padawan looked at the clone troopers in the corner, trying their best to avoid the attention of the thugs and killers around them. She found them courageous, strong, and excellent comrades, but theirs was a life that was difficult and leaving little room for nuance.
He was right. She didn't want to live a life that saw her taking lives day in and day out. She wanted something that didn't leave her struggling to square herself against her actions, even if she didn't know what that was.
"I suppose you're right," Neria muttered. Her eyes turned to Dreamer. "Tell me, when this war's over, what do you think will happen to them?"
"The clones?" She nodded. "Perhaps they will linger in the army, perhaps they'll be allowed to pursue their own lives, perhaps some mix of the two. I doubt anyone's asked them, but I bet that they've been thinking about it."
"Because you've been thinking about it too?"
A small smile at the corner of his lips. "I wonder," he said, "will you ever cease to surprise me?"
"If I did, then I'd be a poor padawan."
"True." He shrugged. "Everyone thinks about what they'll do after the war. You must have some thoughts of your own, yes?"
"I just want to become a knight," she replied. "Everything else in the galaxy can go by."
"I suppose that's fair." He looked uptoward the door. "Ah, here comes our greeter."
Neria didn't see anybody, but the door soon slid open, a dark-plated droid staggering out in ungainly fashion to approach their small group. The clones were already packing up the deck of cards that they were playing Pazaak with, while Dilt and Corporal Gebb-Ti were tossing down the last of their drinks, slamming the glasses to the table and giving each other a nod.
"The Great Jabba requests your presence, Master Jedi," the droid said. "Please, you and yours come with me."
They all joined the droid, who turned and tottered back into one of the chambers.
Some of the people around the room were leering at Neria in a manner she found highly inappropriate, her hand drifting down to her lightsaber and gripping even harder.
"Easy." The padawan turned to see Dilt watching, the Devaronian clearly amused. "You're a guest here. They may be a pack of lecherous thugs, but they know better than to harass someone under Jabba's protection."
She let go of the lightsaber, but she didn't stop watching them. Dilt could say all he wanted about what was in their best interests, yet it did little to ease the discomfort coursing through her.
They were led into the main chamber of the palace, where the bloated Hutt sat upon a dais with a small contingent of outlaws and assistants gathered around. Most notable was a protocol droid next to him, shining silver even in the darkness of the chamber.
Neria uneasily stayed in the rear with the clones, noting that they were standing on some kind of grate that led downward. The soldiers didn't seem to miss it either, Tank nudging Dreamer and nodding to the floor.
"Illustrious and Incredible Jabba," their escort said. "Your guests, as ordered."
"Master Jabba." Knight Durel's voice was strong, authoritative, clearly trying to communicate that they would not be bullied. "We were told that you have information regarding potential threats to the Republic. We have been charged with investigating these threats, so what have you discovered?"
The overgrown slug spoke in a voice that was booming, deep, and completely unintelligible to Neria's ears. Master Durel clearly couldn't understand either, from the way he looked to the protocol droid at the Hutt's side.
"The Glorious Jabba wishes to first speak with you concerning gas mining industries on—"
"I'm afraid I'm not a politician nor a businessman," the Jedi replied. "If you want to make deals with the Republic, those would be the appropriate channels to go through."
"Yet you are diplomats, yes?" the droid asked after Jabba spoke. "Are you not authorized to make some concessions or deals on behalf of the Republic?"
"Not all Jedi are given a diplomatic posting, Master Jabba," Durel replied. "I am an investigator or commander whenever I'm sent out from the temple, and that is the function I fulfill. I have no knowledge of Republic industrial holdings or infrastructure, you'll have to send them through normal diplomatic channels."
Jabba stared at them for a silent spell that stretched uncomfortably long. The clones behind her shifted, the sliding of their armor clearly audible, and Neria's hand lingered on her hip, close to her lightsaber.
All around them, the bounty hunters, mercenaries, thieves, and smugglers that comprised the crew of Jabba's palace seemed to tense up. She would like to trust that Jabba wouldn't threaten the deal he had with the Republic, whatever terms those included, but it wasn't as if the Hutts were some upstanding and honorable people.
Finally, he spoke again, and everyone seemed to ease. Neria did the same, keeping her hand where it was but at least slouching back into a more comfortable stance.
"The Mighty Jabba understands," the protocol droid said. "The kidnappings on Shili have been a source of concern for our great leader. He has long been a friend to the Jedi, has a particular distaste for the abduction of children, and finding that his smugglers were complicit in some of these crimes is no small worry to him."
"It would've required some professionals to pull off," Neria said in agreement.
"There needs to be a reprisal, and he seeks to solve two problems at once," the droid translated. "His smugglers spoke of a small outpost on Hypori, where they delivered the children."
"Hypori." Durel sucked in a breath through his teeth. "That's...not good."
Neria had heard of the place, of course, most of them had. Many Jedi had died there, ambushed by General Grievous and his droids when investigating an outpost.
"It shouldn't be a problem," Dilt said, to their surprise. When the Jedi turned to him, he shrugged, eyes glinting in amusement. "You hired a smuggler. Getting into worlds I'm not supposed to is my specialty."
"Thank you, Master Jabba," Knight Durel said, inclining his head to the crime lord. "The Republic thanks you as well. We'll investigate, and any information that can assist your industrial endeavors will be sent back."
The giant alien looked quite pleased by that suggestion, the crease of his mouth turning upward and his eyes shining in delight. He spoke again as the music started back up behind them, indicating they were about to be dismissed.
"The Mighty Jabba thanks you for your kindness," the protocol droid said. "He has many matters he must attend to, now. Please linger by the hangar as your vessel is repaired, and you will be sen out."
"Thank you, Master Jabba," Durel said, inclining his head.
They departed from the room, and Durel looked mighty pleased by the direction the conversation had taken. As they traveled to the hangar, little out of the ordinary caught her eye, then she paused when she noticed something unusual in the corner of their destination.
Neria saw Kurik speaking quietly with a pale Twi'lek in the corner, his red eyes intimidating and expressing some suspicion as he talked to the pilot. Everyone else had already meandered to some other distal portion of the palace, leaving her alone to roam.
"Kurik!" Both of them turned to Neria, who tapped a hand pointedly against the hilt of her lightsaber. "Need any help?"
"No, we're fine over here," the young man said. "We were just speaking about the starcruiser. Jabba's apparently quite pleased that we brought him such a gift, he just didn't want to speak up before he could wiggle a deal out of us."
He was lying, that much Neria could easily tell. Perhaps he was a good pilot, but his condition had left him with little mastery over his facial expressions, and the crease of his forehead and turn of his lips told her enough.
The padawan didn't push, though. She'd keep an eye on him, but whatever discussion they were having wouldn't concern her as long as it didn't threaten their mission.
So instead, she stalked off to a corner of the hangar and waited, prepared to meditate in the noisy chamber.
And this time, she hoped she didn't see that Mandalorian again.
I may not have mentioned it, but I have three phases planned for this story: Clone Wars, Pre-Rebellion, Rebellion. I've got this planned up to chapter 32, and it looks like it'll wrap up the Clone Wars portion around 40, so that should give you some idea of how long this is gonna go. Maybe I'll try to write two chapters a week, it shouldn't be that hard.
And as always, any comments or critiques are appreciated.