Chapter 13: A Storm to Come

I must say, this whole idea of running overriding noise to block out in Jar Jar's words the "Dellow felegates" is a good one. I will have to keep a pair of earbuds and a datapad on me in case the Force decides to through a Senate meeting at me next, which, knowing the Force and my luck – lack thereof – will happen more than once in the extremely near future.

Don't get me wrong, I've always deemed myself second only to Obi-Wan Kenobi in garbled official talk – sorry, negotiations – but it's one thing when something actually depends on you, and quite another when you have to just stay there and listen. Considering they are a bunch of morons anyway. I guess that characterisation isn't quite accurate; after all, males aren't the only ones present. Would a female moron be a moroness or a moronette?

That's beside the point I think, still if I meet C-3PO I'll have to ask him. Then again, if I do he will probably give me an hour's lecture on how the term 'moron' is considered uncouth in polite company. As iconic as Goldenrod was to the Saga, he is not the droid you are looking for in matters of companionship. Now HK would be a different story, I would probably feed him a laundry list of meatbags to terminate by the day. I might accidentally eliminate the entire Senate, Judicial Forces, half the Navy, the Intelligence division and a bunch of planetary officials, and that would not do at all, would it?

The last track conveniently stopped playing as matters seemed to be winding down at the table. Using rather fine telekinesis – a skill I was paradoxically apt in – I moved the datapad from under my muffling attire and oriented its directional mic at the main table.

"Á wilcum prupusil, frind Jidi. Wi sháll indiid adjourn fur a riciss. The cumfirrince will risume in tuu huuirs, will it bi acciptibl?"

I sighed in relief as Master Adi nodded in assent and after a pointlessly gracious bow made her way out of the room as fast and politely as she could manage. I followed very soon after, I had no more wish to hang around that place than absolutely necessary. And besides, I was having a bad feeling again, something close by, but elusive.

We met up on our respective ways to the giant food court situated to the meeting chamber's west. The whole summit complex resembled, you guessed it, the letters herf and vev arranged to form a three-pronged fork running west-to-east with the central prong not reaching the crook of the other too. Instead of using this space for extra guard stations or other useful facilities, the architects did something ridiculous; they made a roofed courtyard. The trailing end of the fork was barricaded with ten-meter thick transparisteel (don't show me the bill for that one, please) reinforced with a transparent – hence expensive – deflector shield. Several 'open air' stalls stood scattered between the central building and the ones around it and an extravagant eating area was constructed where the vev diverged.

It would have been an assassin's dream come true, and a security detail's worst nightmare, but strangely the participants of the summit did not demand our protection in this vast open space. I wasn't complaining; less work for me, and besides, open and crowded areas are the best for covert surveillance. With that in mind Master and I took a small table perched in a convenient corner which could not be snuck up on and commanded the best view of the area. Setting down our trays – and running a bunch of toxin tests while we were at it – we started up a quiet conversation of innocuous appearance.

"How was your night, Padawan?" she asked me, like any oblivious Master or parent would.

"Not too bad, I might have had a run-in with some creepy-crawlies and there was some weird stink, but otherwise it was a nice relaxing sleep." I chewed on the local equivalent of a fat-as-a-Hutt burger – the only edible food around, much to my consternation – and after a moment of thought added, "Oh yes, there might have been a red laser tracking around the room, but who knows, it might have been those brats out in the street. They have no respect for hard-working folks. What about you Master? Did you enjoy not getting called to some emergency or another in the middle of the night?"

Sometimes, even in the midst of dreary nonsense, I love my job as a Jedi. The Brown-Robed Society of (dis)reputable Negotiators is a wondrous body to be a part of. No verbal code is ever required when the person you are communicating with can pick up on your meaning while sounding perfectly normal. Jedi would make terrifying Black Ops units, I shudder to think….

"Oh no, there is no rest for the wise. I was awake for a good portion of last night contemplating the peculiar patterns of wiring in my quarters…" Translation: nearly got electrocuted. Well, at least I was not the only unlucky fellow.

"And what conclusion did you reach, do enlighten me…" I really could not resist a little cheekiness, "was there a bug in the system? I hear there are some truly terrifying mites on Vandal-helm. Or was it that arachnid that hit the markets recently?"

"I found the Rae Roach truly a topic of interest. Maybe we should visit for a guided tour sometime, I'm sure Qui-Gon would have found them very interesting." Translation: electronic virus originating from Abregado Rae, investigation called for, but the Trade Federation had a good chance of being involved.

"I'm sure he would, but his Padawan would certainly not. Between the pathetic life forms, short negotiations and bigger fish he just about had it in his last assignment." I sat tapping my chin for a moment and then continued on a totally different topic. "I really hope we can get back to the ship soon, the Arrgaw Akks are set for a definite win in the shockball match tonight. But they should really keep an eye on the Epica, they have a lot going for them too."

Just as I felt a mental frown appear in Master's Force Presence, I felt a burst of panic somewhere in the basement level, things were going to get hairy after all.

"I think it's the Epica!" I judged that a crisis was no time for code talk so throwing caution to the wind I yelled my suspicions over my shoulder and pelted down the closed corridor.

"Good call, but where do you think you are going?" Adi demanded in that stern, messing is alright at times, but this is not one of them tone. I knew that tone all too well from firsthand experience.

"Well, where do you think? The conference hall!"

"No!" the word rang with finality, "You are not, repeat, are not engaging in any action today. You are not getting yourself killed while you are my Padawan, do you get that? Is that clear?"

"Crystal!" was the only response I could muster; Adi was right I could not enter an extremely hostile situation with my skill level. Good against remotes is one thing, good against the living is something else. And besides, the Epicans were bound to mean business, they would not go in unprepared for Jedi, and though I highly doubted the presence of ysalamiri, I strongly suspected flechette launchers and other nasties.

As if in confirmation of my inward musings Master Adi addressed me, though gentler than before, "You'll have your day to go in saber a' swinging, relax, patience, you'll get there…" then after a nod from me she continued, "Now go to the South Security Tower and act as a spotter for me, got that?"

I nodded in affirmation, said the obligatory "May the Force Be With you Master…" and pelted off down the nearest service corridor. This would be the next best thing to actually being there.

I was not very good at Force Speed, whereas a normal human could cover a hundred meters in under ten seconds, a trained Jedi could do it in one point three, and exceptional ones (green trolls included) could go as fast as a tenth of a second, I could only go as seven seconds, six point eight at most.

Still, it was a good little clip and I reached the command centre in a very short period of time, breaking proved a slight problem however. Once I pealed myself off the wall that absolutely had no business being where it was, I was faced with a rather peeved guard, a guard with a stun baton in hand.

"Vaht do you phink y're doing 'ere, bratlin'?" His accent was not what I had come to associate with the general populous of Vandelhelm, indeed being reminiscent of the rough and tumble sneering growl spoken in the Hutt regions of the Outer Rim. His look was no better, all done up in tattoos and piercings, a leather jerkin and pants that reached half way down his shins. Besides the stun baton, he was also armed with a cutlass-like vibroblade and a really mean-looking SoroSuub blaster the designation of which was probably lost among all the modifications. In short, I did not want to fight him.

"Jedi business. Some twit decided to start shooting downstairs, this post was closest so I came to monitor the situation…"

"Ve don't vahnt no Jedi hre, skid off!" Very friendly, if Master Adi wanted me to keep out of trouble, this was not the place to send me. Not by a long shot.

"I have urgent business," I began in that Obi-Wan tone, bringing my hand up in the gesture for Force Compulsion, and doing my best to remember my lessons in said area, "You will let me enter."

The stun baton lifted to passive attack position and a hiss escaped my buddy's mouth. Either Aurek; he was not weak-minded, or besh; I was just terrible at Force Pursuade. Bet you ten creds it was the latter

Looks like I'd have to go for the backup plan, and if I have to do that, why not do it with some cheek. "You will stand down and let me pass…" I intoned, this time waving my lightsaber in the same gesture. While Friend Ugly was busy grinding brain cells to figure it that was a threat, joke or insult, my right hand released a Force push aimed at his stomach.

Sadly my aim is terrible as I have so often proclaimed. This situation gives a whole new perspective to the phrase "hit below the belt". Lucky for him, that blast wasn't really strong. Unfortunately I am beginning to sense extreme murderous intent. I guess I should avoid telekinetic attacks until I am more proficient.

Before I can join the Glowing Blue Club on a premium subscription, I whip out my by now customary blaster pistol, flick the mode to stun, and pump three shots into him. Then after seeing him twitch, I let loose with to more for comfort.

The Security centre is like any command post in the SWU, save for the fact that the screens are blue, not green like the TCW and RotS would have us believe. The room is circular, with control panels set around the perimeter and four rolling chairs set up for the monitoring team. Beats me why there's no-one inside, but good fortune should not be questioned unless it's too good, and this is certainly not.

"Bantha brains…" I hiss under my breathe as I enter the day's date into the password box and get instant admin access, one would have thought that a conference such as this would have a slightly higher security level. I don't see that well, but that really doesn't matter when you have the Force, Force Sight being the first technique I fully mastered to its fullest expanse. A tap or two of my fingers and I have the security feeds projected onto the wall monitors.

Pulling the trusty hush-98 comlink from its sleeve pouch – I chose to forgo standard dress accessories and sew – yes I know how to do that – concealed pockets into sleeves and wherever I could get them. The -98 wasn't by far the fanciest device out there, in fact it was like having an old monochrome, green-scaled, button-using cell while the world was up to smartphone standards, but I, and most other Jedi, liked it precisely because it didn't have any of the tutes and bells.

"Master, do you read?" I queried, opening a secure channel and watching Master Adi negotiate an unresponsive door with her lightsaber on one of the holocam feeds.

"Loud and mostly clear, did you get into position?"

"If I say that there is a dozen five-o-one-zee police droids behind that door, would that answer your question?" Some might consider my answer the peak of insolence, and they would be right under normal circumstances, but Master Adi and I, over the two months we had known each other, had come to a certain level of comradeship where banter was freely exchanged and formalities were ditched entirely, what good did they do anyway?

"Thanks for the heads up, do you know if they are hostile?"

"Judging by the guns aimed at the door, I'd say they are…"

"Oh, okay then…" Master Adi's lightsaber completed the circle which with a pulse of the Force she sent flying into the two zeds in front of the doors. I will never guess why defenders think it a good idea to take positions just in front of the stinking door! Then again, it's them and not me, so I'm not complaining – a perfect motto for a happy life in the GFFA.

Meanwhile, for indeed my thoughts took a considerable ten seconds of time, Master Adi came in saber a' swinging, slicing and dicing, chopping and lopping, dismembering and disassembling the other eight zeds in the room. They managed a puny couple of shots out of their rifles which were summarily intercepted and redirected to more useful targets and all too soon the mess was over. I whistled in awe; I could not wait until the day I could actually do that on a regular basis.

The next two chambers were remarkably void of hostile units, unless a house rat can be counted among that number, and I was rather beginning to nod off when a side door outside the camera's view slid open and a handful of annoying individuals showed up.

"Master Jedi! What is the meaning of this!" sometimes I get this feeling that the Sith aren't half bad of an option; they don't have to put up with snotty bureaucrats and morons like the Jedi are obliged to. I'll have to set up a pros/cons table and re-evaluate my alignment… No just kidding! I'm not trading my musty brown robe or gleaming chrome saber for … anything really.

The second member of the Quarren party – for that was whom they were – was more courteous. "Master Jedi, are you aware of the particulars of the situation?

Master Adi sighed resignedly and nodded, "Yes delegate Ixx, I am aware," came the expected world-weary reply, "Now if you would not mind settling in a safe room, I shall investigate the situation…."

She was turning away when the Moron-Quarren – that almost rhymes – decided to let out a petulant refusal; "No! We are NOT hiding like a pair of squid! Do you hear me Jedi! The conference must continue! To the hall Ixx!"

Some people are just too idiotic to deal with. Master Adi recognised that just fine, so without any further complaints she pulled out her comlink and keyed for me, "Padawan, how does the route to the ConfCen look?"

"Mostly littered with building security and personal details," I supplied after only a moment, "I recommend casual Force." Casual Force, just like Aggressive Negotiations was one of those terms arising in specific teaching lines, in Master Adi's it meant literally; get through without lethal force or appendage removal. You could slam people into walls, knock them unconscious, give them non-serious wounds, just anything to get through that did not require effort, hence the term 'casual'. In my – perhaps warped – vision of the Jedi, this was the best approach.

Master seemed to have things well in hand, so I felt a fresher break was in order. Then, a minute turned into eight, after which I felt it necessary to indulge in a coffee break – after all, I was 'working hard' for the 'safety and security of the Galactic Society'. On those cheery thoughts I poured myself another cup of rich black caf, drank half of it and considered reading the Zhellday Times when I had remembered what I was actually doing there.

Unhurriedly I sauntered over to the camera control station and put in a system scan for Master's parameters. At least this part of the software was doing what it was supposed to and the wall monitors jumped to various views of the ConfCen – Conference Centre – in which ensued utter pandemonium.

It was like Parliament House on a bad day, and I bring an Earth analogy into this simply for absence of floating pods. The Quarren were quarrelling with the RimRoutes fellas, the unionists were being obstinate, and the Epicans were obviously fanning the flames to anyone watching. How Master could stand the ruckus was beyond me, maybe Councillors had a nifty trick for blocking out sound? Whatever the case, Adi was as far away from the action as she could get, and obviously not happy. A zoom-in revealed her on-hand twitching constantly near her lightsaber. Poor Master, poor Master….

"Any news?" I probed as casually as I could, were I in Master's position now I would be ready to bite off heads.

"See for yourself… it's like a committee on proper changing of household glowbulbs, from the absence of an agenda to the loss of all distinctions of sentience."

"I meant real news, not what I already know. And the fact that the Javin delegation totally lacks a spine is part of the latter, not the former."

"Well between yelling at each other and accusing everyone of treachery, they are 'secretly' giving orders to their guard contingents who are being overrun by slightly more competent ruffians. Blast doors have been sealed, and me getting outside will be a problem of sorts. If I'm right, the battle is likely to be heading your way in the near future…."

"Wow, too late there Master. I'd say the action has just about reached me, and I have a bad feeling that I shall get involved whether I want to or not. "

"Don't engage. I am not going to be able to assist you whatsoever. Do not engage."

"Understood, I'll do my best, but I am not sure how long I can hold them from here…" That was true in a way; even if I was extremely good with computers, I was by no means a prodigy, and a doubly unfamiliar system was not likely to cooperate according to Murphy's Law.

While my fingers tapped out commands to divert power, kill lights, lock doors and enable countermeasures, a somewhy detached part of my incessant brain chose to wonder, would it still be Murphy's Law here? Malak's Law? He sure was on the wrong end of it long enough. My musings were brought to a sort of halt when my comm chimed,

"…I hope it was you who cut the lights, and that you had a good reason for it…." On certain occasions it kept on occurring to me, and this was one of them; I was extremely lucky to end up with Master Gallia as my teacher, as she understood the tangled mess that was my earlier education, and structured her approach more along the lines of comrades and equals – though I was a good ways of being one – instead of the stick-up-an-exhaust-port High School I had endured. At times I actually thanked Qui-Gon's twisted mind for giving me a vacation in the GFFA, and this was one of those times.

"Yes to both, I managed to hold my guests for a while, but I think I will have to venture out eventually, I am cornered here. And besides… what the Sith?"

Before Master could inquire further, a hologram burst to life in the middle of the ConfCen, clearly visible on my monitors as well.

"You will cease this racket! We are the—" here the audio mysteriously flickered before resuming, "…and you should be aware that this conference will no longer be tolerated! The Jedi's ship has been destroyed! Your protection is now void! We have already captured one of these mythical warriors and our units are moving on the second's location even now! The—"

"Padawan?" came the anxious demand over the link in my hand. It buoys my spirit to know that even after two months, Master Adi cares what's up with her impetuous, annoying, and sarcastic Padawan. It's her duty, but still…

"That guy is full of himself, my senses aren't that attuned but I sense no Jedi anywhere near here except us, and we don't count."

A sigh of relief came in reply, "Not to worry then…"

"Actually," I began, my stomach sinking really, really low. "I just accessed the cam feeds to the room they are using, and Houston, we have a problem."

The obligatory "What?" came rather muffled to my ears as I held the comlink with my armpit while improvising a new door with a lightsaber. Whether the question was regarding my choice of words – a trait I must rectify soon – or more likely the situation, I had no time to ponder.

"You know how I promised to stay out of trouble Master?" My tone was far too casual for the situation, especially considering the baradium that was the source of the problem, "Well yeah, sorry for not keeping that promise. I'll do the laundry when you get me out of the med-centre…"

No plot survives first-contact with the paper - in this case, first contact with the Word Document. Initially I was going to have some action here on part of Nik, but when the word count reached 2700, I knew that to prolong this would just be like dragging the cat from beneath the couch by its tail.

Still, this gives me more opportunities for next chapter, far more than what I would have gotten if I combined the background with the action all in one.

The world of writing is a nebulous one as I am discovering with every page. No plot stays the same for too long and I must learn the folly of planning ahead.

Hope you have enjoyed this chapter, and my thanks to the people who have followed this story, and who have reviewd my recent poetry posts. You are welcome to PM me with any concerns you might have of course.

Clean word Count: 3,700 | Posted 26/5/13 1407 hours GMT