Chapter Two

A transport lowered itself through a middle-class neighborhood situated in the mid-levels of Coruscant. The streets were crowded with beings of almost every species imaginable, an endless flow of traffic. Street merchants tempted the crowds with tasty snacks and an assortment of sundry goods. Music played from the corners and alleyways, serenading the pedestrians with the latest musical hits from the core worlds. But the transport descending from above drowned out the music. It was a stubby vehicle with short wings, a green body, and chromium trim upon the twin engine nacelles mounted on the rear.

Most of the beings on the street spared sidelong glance towards the source of the noise. Although it was uncommon for speeder transports to land so near the concourse, it wasn't unheard of. What was unexpected, for those who noticed, was the type of vessel. It was not a civilian taxi, nor even one belonging to the local security precinct. This one bore the crest of the Jedi Order on its hood, and those who realized what the symbol meant quickly doubled their pace. They knew that whenever Jedi got interested in what was going on amongst the common people trouble was sure to follow.

A door opened in the side of the transport just as it touched down, next to the entrance to one of the towering apartment complexes. Two security officers disembarked the transport, blaster rifles in hand. An old human with dark skin and a long white beard followed behind them. Despite his age he carried himself with youthful energy, jumping out of the speeder with a bounce in his step that belied his world weariness of his dark wrinkled skin.

The man wore a simple brown and tan uniform, similar in color to the robes that a Jedi might wear, but tailored for everyday use for those not gifted with the full strength of the Force. Two additional figures exited the transport, following the old man in manner and uniform, although their youthful vigor was perfectly suited for their age.

One of them was a young keshiri man with dark blue skin and eyes with pupils the color of carbon, his head completely bald. The other was a zabrak women, her horns poking out of her auburn hair, which was tied back in a bun.

"The apartment is that way, Commander Yen," said the young keshiri man, pointing a short way down the street. The old man's gaze followed where his subordinate pointed, squinting.

"Very good Aramis," Yen said, stretching himself upright until his back cracked. "I sense that we will encounter resistance."

The young man frowned and ducked back inside the transport, retrieving a staff weapon and a belt with several stun grenades. "Do you want anything, Kylta?"

The zabrak held up her hands. "I've got everything I need right here," she said, smiling. The two security officers accompanying them readied their blasters. They wore blue breastplates and helmets, just like the Senate security corps, but with the addition of phase one Clone Trooper boots and gloves. The Clone Wars had strained the Jedi Order's budget, forcing them to rely on surplus gear from the Grand Army to equip their security personnel.

"We're ready," one of the officers nodded.

"Very well. I'd be remiss not to remind you to set your weapons to stun. We want to catch the suspect alive," Yen said, the wrinkles on his forehead crinkling. Together the group set off down the street. The crowd parted before them, and only a few of the myriad beings cast a second glance at the group. Even if most of the citizens were concerned at the presence of Jedi Security, they all knew enough to know they were better off steering clear and going about their business.

They went down a set of stairs that led to the level below, a cavernous courtyard with bottom level access to all of the apartment buildings which rose into the sky around them. This courtyard was in permanent darkness, shaded by the street above. There were fewer people here than above, but with the addition of an outdoor eating area that served the customers of the food carts situated in the middle of the courtyard. The group kept to the perimeter and went down another short flight of stairs, arriving at the entrance to one of the apartment buildings.

"He is in apartment 73-d," Aramis stated, motioning down the hall and to the left. The security officers took the lead, bringing their blasters into the ready position. They arrived outside of the suspect's door, each of them standing to either side of the door. Yen arrived next and softly placed a hand upon the door. It was made up of a light alloy durasteel, painted green and bearing numerous scuff marks.

"He is asleep," Commander Yen observed. "Kylta, if you would?"

"My pleasure," she said eagerly. Yen stepped aside, allowing the zabrak woman to place her own hand on the door. But instead of placing her flat palm upon the door, as Yen had done, her hand formed a fist. She took a moment, inhaled deeply, brought her hand back, and then punched in the door. The light durasteel crumpled inwards, popping off its hinges. She stepped aside, allowing it to fall backwards into the hall with a loud crash.

The security officers ran through the door, sweeping their blasters across the room. They found themselves in the midst of a dimly lit room absent any furniture. Instead, the floor was littered with numerous durasteel crates, most of them unopened. Their target had been sleeping on the floor, atop a simple blanket, when Kylta had knocked it in. He jolted upright only to find himself staring down the barrels of two blaster rifles. The target was a quarren, dressed in the clothing of an upper class merchant, and looking at odds with the room around him. He raised his arms above his head without prompting, his eyes wide with fear.

"Koruf Dar, you're under arrest for theft and conspiracy to traffic stolen goods," Aramis stated. He stared at the man, attempting to get a sense of him through the Force but failing entirely. The Jedi Temple, after the attack on Coruscant by Separatist forces, was beginning to take steps to safeguard their vast collection of artifacts against possible attack. Why they were only now beginning to consider the danger of storing their entire Order's collection in one central Temple, as secure as it seemed to be, Aramis did not know. But the danger in moving valuables is that they are vulnerable while in transit, and recently a shipment had gone missing.

"Check the crates," Yen said, gesturing around the room. While the officers watched the suspect Aramis and Kylta began to examine the crates. Aramis leaned his staff against a wall and removed a small scanner from his back pocket, which he used to scan the code on the nearest crate. The scanner beeped disappointingly, coming up negative. He heard an identical beep from Kylta's scanner across the room. They repeated the process until they had scanned the code on every crate, and the results were the same.

"These are from the Temple, but they aren't the missing crates," Kylta announced. Aramis glanced around the apartment. The only other rooms in the apartment were a small kitchen and the refresher, neither of which would have been suitable for hiding additional goods.

"You are Koruf Dar? The Master of Shipping for Hydian Way Lines?" Ven asked.

"Yes. But I just retired," the quarren answered.

"After receiving a big payday?" Kylta asked. "These aren't the crates that were stolen, but they are Jedi Order property. Where did you steal them from?"

The quarren gulped fearfully. "I'm not saying anything. I want a lawyer."

"If you don't cooperate you won't get a lawyer. You'll be in front of a Republic War Tribunal, instead of the inside of a cell at the Jedi Temple," Yen stated, his expression a mixture of compassion and grim concern for Koruf.

Koruf stared at Yen for a moment, before giving in. "I didn't steal them. I received them...and they aren't being removed from the temple, they are being taken in. I decided I could get more for them on the black market than what they were paying me and just sort of...kept them."

"Who did you receive them from?"

"A senatorial aide," Koruf revealed. "He offered me a job at a meeting for the Core Worlds Shipping and Trade Association. Didn't reveal his identity." Yen placed his hand on the quarren's forehead and focused all of his mental energy. An image of a face came into his mind's eye, hooded but identifiable.

"It was Sate Pestage," Yen announced, a worried expression coming over his face.

"From the office of the Supreme Chancellor?" one of the security guards asked.

Aramis went to the nearest crate and tried the release.

"Hold on, you aren't supposed to open it," Koruf shouted.

After a moment of straining against the lock, which was a rotating latch meant to be unlocked by load lifter droids, Aramis managed to pop it open. As soon as he lifted up the lid an explosion blasted outwards from the crate, shaking the room. Aramis was thrown backwards into Kylta, who was too startled by the blast to attempt at catching him. Together they crashed into another crate and crumpled onto the floor.

Aramis fell into unconsciousness. He awoke a moment later to the feeling of Yen propping him upright. There was blood coming down his forehead and his vision swayed.

"Is Kylta alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, just some bruising," she answered. He turned to find her sitting up against one of the other crates. "Are you alright?"

"I think he'll be fine, but we should seek medical attention for him at the nearest opportunity," Yen said. The older man turned to Koruf, who has being hauled to his feet by the guards. "Summon a bomb squad and take Koruf into custody."

"Yes sir," they nodded, filing out with the quarren.

Aramis got to his feet, despite Yen's attempts to keep him seated. "I'll be alright," he said, pushing his mentor away. He walked unsteadily across the room until he reached the sabotaged crate. "The explosion wasn't large enough to cause major damage," he said. "It had only been meant to disorient." He looked into the crate. The innards were blackened but mostly unharmed. The explosive device had been wired into the upper walls of the crate, while a foam shield lay across the crate's contents, protecting it from the blast. He carefully removed the shield.

Inside the crate lay a number of Jedi artifacts, but none of them were the priceless objects that had been stolen. All these items were modern. There were tattered and stained Jedi robes, state of the art data pads equipped with full sets of encryptions, utility belts, and, after Aramis pushed somethings out of the way, a lightsaber. He lifted the iconic weapon out of the crate and held it up for the others to see.

Kylta went to his side and looked into the crate for herself. "I don't understand. Why would they be smuggling stuff back into the Jedi Temple?"

"These aren't the artifacts we're looking for," Yen said, gazing into the crate for himself. "These are things from the battlefield...these are from fallen Jedi."

Aramis wiped some of the blood from his eyes and tried to ignore the headache that was descending upon him. "We need to call this in."

"Agreed," Yen nodded. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his comlink. Just as he did so an alert began to blare from it, a high pitched repeating alarm. "That's the general alert tone...the Temple is under attack."

oOoOo

Aramis sat in the back of their transport, a bacta compress pressed to his forehead. The sliding door was open, allowing him to see people walking past in the early evening light. The people went along their way calmly, blissfully unaware of the emergency currently befalling the Republic.

They had been forced to call the local security precinct to secure Koruf's apartment and all of the crates inside of it. While they waited on the local police to show up they were forced to sit and wait, all the while listening to the Jedi's general alert ringing through their comlinks. The tone was meant as a quick and dirty alert, broadcasting a signal all Jedi Order personnel that the Jedi Temple was under attack, and that all available personnel should respond. But the alert tone would not stop ringing, and no one answered their calls from the Temple. It was as if someone were jamming the signal, preventing anything but the automated frequencies from getting through. And so they had been forced to shut their comlinks off as they returned to the street, where their transport had sat waiting for them.

"Let's head back to the Temple," Commander Yen ordered the pilot, who promptly lifted off from the street.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Kylta asked, eyeing Aramis as he held the compress to his forehead. Shrapnel from the sabotaged crate had embedded itself in his forehead, and it wouldn't stop bleeding profusely.

"I'll be fine," Aramis assured her, smiling slightly in an attempt to allay her concern. "I'd enter a healing trance if I could, but I'm not powerful enough." When they were halfway back to the temple Aramis stood and approached the cockpit section. Commander Yen sat next to the pilot, a Mon Calamari woman with brown and white flecked skin. "I've never heard the general alert tone before."

"No one has in several lifetimes…" Commander Yen began. "It's reserved for full scale assaults."

Aramis looked across the city. The evening sun was setting, and traffic was continuing as usual. There were no signs of an attack on the city, no alarms or raid sirens, no Republic gunships flitting about. If anything the city seemed quieter than usual. "Did the Separatists somehow get an army on the surface?"

"Check the comm frequencies," Kylta suggested from the passenger compartment. The pilot scanned through the public frequencies, yet there were no signs of any attack happening.

"Could the alert have gone out in error?" Aramis asked.

"Wait...I found something," the pilot announced. "A no-fly zone has been imposed around the Senate district. Military clearance is required."

They were now approaching the Senate district, and spotted smoke rising into the air in a thick column on the horizon. It was coming from the direction of the Temple.

"Land up there," Yen ordered, pointing towards a nearby skyscaper with a public landing pad. The towering building would offer them a generous view of their surroundings, while keeping them out of the no-fly zone.

The transport landed and, despite his injuries, Aramis was the first out of the door, a pair of macrobinoculars in hand. "It's...Clones….Clone troopers are attacking the temple." As he watched Republic gunships flitted about the Temple's imposing walls, occasionally firing streams of blaster fire from their bubble turrets into open canopies in the temple wall. A line of ground vehicles surrounded the front terrace, maintaining a perimeter as more troopers rushed inward.

Aramis offered the macrobinoculars to Commander Yen, who had disembarked from the transport and now stood beside him. But Commander Yen collapsed onto his knees, tears streaming down his face as he watched his home burn.

"The Republic is attacking the Jedi? How can this be happening?" Kylta asked. She took the macrobinocular's from Aramis but did not put them to her face. She could tell what was happening without them.

"I don't know," Aramis said, all thought of the blood still dripping down his forehead forgotten. "What should we do?"

Commander Yen glanced up at Aramis. "There is nothing the three of us can do against an Army. The Republic has betrayed the Jedi."

A trio of V-Wing fighters roared past them through the upper atmosphere, but close enough that their distinctive howl caused the transparisteel glass around them to reverberate.

"We need to head down to the lower levels," Aramis suggested, cutting through the noise as the V-Wings faded into the distance. He reached down and held his hand out towards Commander Yen. "Regardless of what we decide to do, we can't stay here. They'll spot a Jedi transport eventually."

"You're right," Yen said, taking Aramis' hand and pulling himself to his feet. "I'm sorry...I can...feel all of this death through the Force. But we can't give up yet."

They returned to the transport and retrieved some of their gear, Aramis taking up his staff once again. The pilot was not Force sensitive, but she too sat in her chair frozen in a state of shock.

"Leave the transport behind, come with us," Commander Yen ordered. The Mon Calamari came to her senses and undid her restraints. She retrieved a blaster pistol from behind her flight chair and joined them on the landing pad. Together they entered the building, each of them trying to put one foot in front of the other as their whole lives came crashing down around them.