Chapter 17: Matters of Motive

Much like my current disposition, the day was a sunny one. On Galactic City, that did not usually count for much with the myriad orbital mirrors and climate control stations, but on this occasion, the sky was naturally blue, the sun was not muffled with kilometres of ecumanopolitan haze, and the freshness of the air was abetted by the near-absence of air traffic in the northern hemisphere of Coruscant.

There was of course traffic, but since most of it was in the lower flight lanes and canyons, it did not concern me, and for the first time in the pilot's seat, I found myself whistling a merry tune as I went about the business of switching from sublight drives to repulsors and coming in on my final approach to the south-eastern tower docking bay.

I was too preoccupied to notice sooner, but when the post-flight procedure was complete and Bardan, Etain and I disembarked from the whitecloak, I did. The tournout was impressive, our welcoming committee consisted of half the Jedi Council, plus our respective Masters and other prominent individuals among who were Shaak Ti, Cin Drallig and Ry-Gaul.

"Director-Colonel Sunrider, on your safe return, congratulate you, I do. Your report, the Council is eager to hear."

Over the years, all sixteen of them, I had come to develop a talent that let me accurately predict most situations that could arise around me, going off previous data, current fact and prior projections. This talent – almost Sherlock Holmes-ian in effect and nature – helped me out innumerable times, from evading precarious ground in conversation to even preventing me from taking a route which would bare minutes after become a crime scene.

I had come to greatly rely on my deductions, but was ever aware that I was not omnipotent and could misread a situation, or miss it entirely. In the past, the former was exceedingly rare and the latter was almost unheard of, so Master Yoda's greeting, though sending my mind into a frantic series of calculation, assessment and planning, did not evince any outward reaction. While CPUs 0 through 2 were sifting through possibility upon possibility, evaluating the mid-and long-term ramifications, trusty Number 3 had brought my right hand up in a salute and give in a suitably crisp voice: "Thank you Master, my report is ready." as a reply.

"Nik?" came Etain's not unexpected query, "Didn't you say that the STAR Force was a fabrication?"

Applying an apologetic tone to my voice, one not entirely feigned; they had become good friends of mine in the recent days, and I had no wish to drag them any deeper into galactic affairs than I had to, I turned my head to face the other Padawans and, giving a cryptic smile, spoke, "From a certain point of view, it is. A very certain point of view, mind you…"

Master Windu, so unlike his normal depiction by earthlings, decided to play along by shaking his head in mild disappointment and rebuking me, "Sunrider, what did we say about drafting unsuspecting Padawans for high-risk missions?"

"To not to … I think." I paused for a second, thought that this game was worth going along with for the time being, and added, "But since when do I go on blue milk runs? It's in my job description to go on missions that have the potential to end in disaster. I'm sure you would not have preferred me leaving a trail of destruction in my wake this time."

"If you wanted to be impressive, you should have taken a pair of Wookiees along… or perhaps a Barabel or three.

The friendly banter, perpetuated by Even Piell and Old Yoda himself, continued on for several minutes, lightening my freshly darkened mood. In short order Arligan and Kast collected their Padawans and whisked them off, leaving our procession to ascend the Council Tower and get down to business, the particulars of that, I preferred not to contemplate too closely, sometimes the Qui-Gon approach of "live in the moment" worked just as well as strategy and contingency..

"In short," I began wrapping up my report after a good half hour, "we can expect to have around five-hundred and seventy-one million ground force troopers, and perhaps half that number in naval crew. Maybe less, Tipoca was not very clear on that."

"What about any quote 'defective' units?" So far, my presentation was exceptionally well received, most of the questioning coming from Even Piell and Mace Windu, who, in point of fact, posed the latter query. "I am given to understand that the Kaminoans are rather picky as to what qualifies as a dissatisfactory product."

Master Windu, to the casual observer, was the epitome of the wrathful and distant Jedi persona so prevalent in the imaginations of the wider populous. His disdain for politicians, aggressive combat style and low tolerance for simpering idiots did not help to dispel that image, an image that was most useful for one in such a high place as he. The reality, as so often was, was gravely different.

Though stern at times – teenage shenanigans most certainly included – Mace Windu possessed a kind-hearted and friendly spirit outside of official duty, often helping Padawans and younger Knights with whatever problems they had, a trait seemingly inherited from Yoda. His wit, though not perhaps as dry as Obi-Wan's could get at times, was by far one of the keenest this side of the Hydian, and though it was seldom insultingly directed, you did well to avoid a verbal spar.

"I factored them in to the final number. On the face of it, clones that shoot with less than 95% accuracy, run two kilometres slower or lift less weight only make up point-two of a per cent, but that point-two translates to close to a million beings. That was indeed my primary motivation for going to Kamino; to reassign them to another post, and circumvent the usual procedure of them being killed."

"Kvite a good bit of vork too…" Even Piell congratulated me, "Masterfully done. Could not have planned it better myself."

"Thank you Master Piell," indeed, it was nice hearing praise from people who respected you, your achievements and did not have agendas of their own. Then, after a moment, I realized that I did not include those details in my report. "With respect, but who did you learn of that, Master Piell?"

"Vy, ze same vay ve know you are not lying to us, I folloed you."

Honestly, I felt a tad-bit awkward. Awkward for taking all precautions and still being tailed, I should have counted on something like this happening… at least it was a Councillor and not a knight that I got bested by. Still… "You were that Wayfarer off New Cov, weren't you? I thought I lost you on Ando?"

"You lost my decoy on Ando, I vas vaiting on Mon Gazza viz a corsair. I had my pilot drop me off on Algara after you jumped to hyperspace."

"Oh, I see…."

"Vell anyvay, zat is irrelevant. Vat I vould like to know is how you learned about Kamino…"

And with that one sentence, the day turned from an innocuous debriefing to a perilous, very perilous, verbal minefield.

"The Force told me…" was the readily apparent excuse, one not likely to show as a falsehood in the Force, anyway.

"Zat is rubbish…" Even Piell snorted in extreme derision, "Zat is ze excuse ve Jedi use ven ve do not vant to ansver directly."

…oops, I forgot about that. "Okay then," I changed my tack, "How long have you known?"

"And we know that tactic too," came Master Windu's unamused response, foiling my plans of discovering what it was they suspected, "but since you are so interested, three weeks…" Well that gave the real explanation as to why Fulier and his Padawan showed up on Vandelhelm, covert observation; they probably didn't even know themselves what they were doing.

Even no information is information in proper hands they say, and I agree, but the only information I got out of the last exchange was that the Council was far more dangerous than even my most cynical projections, effectively bumping them to threat level one. And as useful as that would be in the future, at present it meant that I was freshly out of aces, skifters and wild cards. Resigned, I took up a contemplative posture and sighed, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," came the prompt response, "Starting with who you are, what your business is here and what exactly you know – and how you know it, of course…"

"I have found that my proper name is beyond the ability of the immature to pronounce, and since most of my dealings were with the immature, I have come to go by the shortened name of 'Nik' when dealing with any strangers, the better to avoid undue hassle. My surname, I shall withhold indefinitely, as has been my custom whenever possible; trouble, I have found, has less of a chance of finding you and yours when you don't leave a business card and pamphlet. My life story, I am sure, Master Adi can recount with far less adjectives and emotion than I could, so I will leave that to her. To my purpose here – wherever 'here' really is – I have no solid answer, but the most likely supposition is that I am meant to learn something, what that something is, or why I have to learn it, I have no clue."

I paused to take a lengthy breath, and it was then when Master Satele chose to come to my rescue. "He speaks true…" echoed in the room as the ghostly blue form materialized.

Stillness fell upon those gathered. Not so much a physical one, the Jedi were far too collected for there to be a continuous rustle of clothes or the fidget of fingers, as one on the edge of Force perception; thoughts slowed, emotions – what there were – cooled and went neutral. A breeze that had been steadily blowing, and then suddenly ceasing would perhaps be the best analogy.

"What sorcery is this?" hissed Oppo Rancisis, quite understandably, though Satele's arrival was fortuitous for me, it was also highly suspicious to the other side.

"Of the Way of the Whills, I have heard," grunted old Yoda, "But only as rumours; nothing to support it, yet nothing to refute. Teaches us old ones, the Force does, that nothing is impossible. Grand Master Shan, greet you, I do."

"Thank you, Grand Master Yoda," the apparition bowed formally, "I'm only here to lend credence to Nik's words, at least for the time being. I do have a request for the Council but that can wait, for now, I feel that Nik can speak for himself." Sending a wave of confidence and reassurance through the Force, she retreated to the back of the chamber, leaving me to carry on with my arduous task.

"Why came you, to the Jedi Order, hmm?" Yoda continued my questioning. Somehow, even though he was eight-and-a-half hundred years older than me, I found it reassuring. Probably because, the ever-cynical part of my brain mumbled, he was capable of flattening me against the wall with but a thought, and wasn't.

"I felt I had to…" I offered hesitantly, not really sure of the answer myself. The inquisitive humph that followed, urged me to continue. "If my worst fears had been realized, I, and many others, were in grave danger… the Jedi were perhaps my only logical refuge, but now that I think on it, there may have also been prompting from the Force…."

"Feared, you say…" began Master Yoda, in a direction I could almost predict, "But fear is the path to the Dark Side, know that, don't you, young one?"

"With all due respect, I beg to differ. A healthy fear is as much an ally as terror is an advesarry. A man who fears to cross a busy highway is well to do so. He is most certain to be struck, if not in the first lane, than the second or third. A man who fears he cannot lift eighty kilograms by hand is well to do so, for health is always of far greater import."

"Even when the health of one can buy the lives of many?" interjects Master Koon, though I am not thrilled at the interruption, I am eager to debate this point, I have not done so with intelligent company in many years.

"Even then…. The good of the many is important, but so is the good of the few. Say a soldier buys time for his squad to retreat. He is made a hero by his actions; a hero for the public, a hero for his peers. But his family; does anyone consider them? What do they think when a son, or brother, or husband does not return? What if the war is still lost, or worse; won, but the actions of that soldier overshadowed by the glory of overall victory, or by those in command? What if, that squad still dies, not in that engagement, but the next? Sometimes, you can do more by staying alive than by going in a blaze of glory. For instance, that extra squad member could have rested victory in the first engagement, then a retreat would not be necessary in the first place. It was well written in a book from back home: 'Some that live, deserve death. But some that some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?' And though it was meant in a slightly different context, it works just as well here."

All were silent for a few moments. Then, shifting in his seat to a more comfortable position, Mace Windu asked, "Then what did you fear? What do you fear, Nik Sunrider?"

"Many things," I responded, after a brief period of thought. "Darth Sidious for one, the Council for another… My knowledge, for a third, and not least, that which is to come…"

"The unknown then…." Depa concluded, "A healthy fear…. Still, I cannot but wonder, what do you know that is so terrible?"

This moment, I felt, was perhaps my best opportunity. I turned both physically – and in the Force – to Master Satele and sought her approval. She gave it to me with a nod.

"Thirteen years after the Great Resynchronization, war is waged on a small Outer Rim world of Geonosis. Two-hundred-and-twelve Jedi come to aid the two already present, only twenty-one survive that day. A mistake made a thousand years on the battlefields of Ruusan sends insidious echoes through the Force and the Galaxy. The Sith rise, and the Clone Wars rage from Muunilist to Lanteeb and back. No world is left in peace. Even Coruscant is attacked in the War's waning months. But even as the greater conflict is fought abroad, a smaller one, though of no lesser significance, erupts in the heart of the Republic. On the one-thousand-and-eighty-ninth day after the first battle of Geonosis, twenty-one hundred hours, Galactic Standard time, the Jedi Order is reduced to no more than thirty members…."

The mental temperature in the room dropped to near absolute zero. If I were them, I would be most upset too. Here they sit, trying to judge the threat posed by an individual they have little knowledge of, and are told of their forthcoming demise. His words ought to be treated with suspicion, as they can be a deception – intentional or otherwise – or a mere attempt to save his neck. On the other hand, the warning has an equal chance of being genuine; they cannot afford to ignore it in that case.

Just as I realized that, I too realized that my position was very precarious once more. Telling the Jedi Council anything of the future was as far from my original plan as Sol was from Coruscant. Literally. Apart from it being a very bad idea on principle, the future had an annoying tendency to change in a cascade manner, and where one alteration could be anticipated, a whole bucketful could not.

Were I perhaps an idealist, I might have attempted to prevent the Empire's rise, but along with my analytical abilities, came the ability to acknowledge my own limitations. Those limitations, sad though I may be to admit them publically, included this whole galaxy-saving business. I was simply better in the strategic realm – and occasionally the tactical – rather than in the field. And besides, I wouldn't want to put the Skywalkers out of their family business, would I?

It looks as if my mental shields were not that strong after all. Even if one Force-User is grossly outmatched by another, the details of his thoughts still remain somewhat clouded. Mine apparently, weren't.

"So, what was your original plan?" queried Mace Windu, going off an intrusion into my mind that I did not even feel.

"Survive…." I promptly responded, "Use what knowledge I had to stay one step ahead of the war – or, more likely, one step behind."

"What changed? By all logic, you should have stayed as far away from the Order as possible."

"There was a chance that I was Force-sensitive, and I knew that Tyranus would be on the hunt for acolytes. Apart from not liking the Sith teaching method, I feared what my information could do in his – or Sidious' – hands."

"But if your information is only confirmation of the Order's downfall," chimed in Ki Adi, "What use would it be to the Sith beyond their pre-existing objective? And why not settle on Myrkr, where you would be safe from discovery?"

Oppo Rancisis saved me from answering. "The Ysalamiri would have protected him against anyone with the Force, but that planet is rife with scum of all sorts. It would be a harder environment to settle into."

"I must admit," I began, "I had originally considered it, until I remembered the other dozen conflicts just waiting to happen."

A rustle of unease rippled through the chamber. Yoda, I believe, made a coughing noise as if about to say something, but then reconsidered and sank back into his chair. The silence lasted for close to ten minutes, and I was beginning to wonder if the Jedi had dozed off, when Yoda finally spoke.

"Why came you not, to the Council, hmm? Refuse I do, to believe that survival your only reason was. After all, the Outbound disaster, averted you have."

"It was not my place," I announced – in what I hoped was a confident manner, "The Jedi Order has come back from worse in the past – Katarr comes to mind – and it will continue to do so in the future. Empires rise, and empires fall. Orders rise, and orders fall. They did so for millennia before me, they will do so for millennia to come. Who am I to intervene now, when this story has been written and resolved? Other people's lives and futures are at stake, and I cannot, in good conscious, put them in jeopardy for a cause which is none of my concern. It has long been my firm belief that the Jedi can make their own decisions, take their own path, and achieve their own victories, now they must be allowed to do so."

An approving grunt came from Master Yoda, and after taking a brief respite, I continued, "…As such, if the Council asks it of me, I will provide what aid I can, as a strategist, a politician or a consultant. My effectiveness as the latter though may be somewhat limited, as the future has this pesky nature of being always in motion…."

Having completed my speech to the best of my ability, I exhaled, relaxed and settled in to wait to see what effect – if any – my honest – if on-the-spot – discourse would have.

As it turned out, those effects were rather positive. Well, more positive than what might have been expected under the circumstances.

"Spoken well you have, Padawan. Understand your motives, the Council now does." Yoda had said. I guess it was mostly true. I tried to state them in a manner which would leave no room for interpretation, but them being Jedi, I would be most disappointed if they took me at my word.

Naturally, they didn't. "However, the Council will need time to discuss this development amongst ourselves." Mace Windu had added, "For the time being, you and your Master will be taken off the 'available' roster and given leave for a meditative retreat." amongst Jedi, that was slang for a paid vacation of indeterminate duration. "Whatever long-term decision is reached in our deliberations," he had continued, "It is the Council's wish that you receive the further training in the ways of the Force; the better to protect yourself if such a need arises."

I was beginning to think that the meeting was breaking up and that I was about to be dismissed, when Satele – who was seemingly forgotten by everyone – stepped onto the centre starburst beside me and interjected, "To that end, I wish to take Nik and his Master to Tython."

The Council, as was beginning to be the norm, froze for a time in mental communication, this time, for a much shorter period. Their response was apparent when Master Adi vacated her seat and made her way toward us. With a smile, she confirmed it, "They say not to bother coming back in less than six months… Between ourselves, they are probably going to forget all about it and only remember when our shuttle enters the atmosphere."

With equally amused chuckles we all bade the other "May the Force be with you…" and departed the High Council chamber, not to return for many, many months.

In all honesty, this is more like the kind of quality of story telling to which I was referring to. It would have been nice if it was like this from chapter one, but there hasn't been a person born at thirty years of age, with a job, family and life experience neatly pre-programmed.

This chapter marks my venture past the 70,000 word threshhold, which happens to be slightly more than everything else on this site (written by me of course) put together. If my plans persist to their conclusions, there will be about five more chapters, with eighteen thousand words between them. And with that, the world-building (what there was of it) part of Young Jedi will conclude, with the final chapter posted if not this year, then on the first week of the next.

This chapter is one that I've been dreading for about five months, seeing as it deals with that most difficult (in my opinion) part of any self-respecting self-insert. In my opinion, the truth - from whatever certain point of view - must come out, and for this story, it did early on. The consequences of that proved to be not immediate, but with a delayed timer as it were.

I do hope that I managed to carry through the seriousness of the situation for the main protagonist; the Jedi are civilized - and calm - beings, thus a civilized and calm interrogation. After all, information gained under duress is less reliable, and a good character analysis always comes in useful. That is kinda hard to get while pointing lightsabers...

Also, in this chapter, I tried to state Nik's - and coincedentally my - views on the matter of messing around in another world without - and even with - invitation.
You just don't, and one of the driving forces behind writing this story - apart from just 'for the heck of it' - was to demonstrate that a self-insert could be less... blatent I guess is the word that I am after. Like if you need to go from A to B through a crowded mall, you don't have to bludgeon your way through, Use the hallways, Luke!

Finally, in conclusion to this author's note, I wish to thank those who reviewed and favourited my little parody 'Be Prepared', sure made me feel happy,
As always, May the Fiction Be With You!

Clean word count: 3633 | Posted: 24/11/13, 1115 GMT.