N'Chun

In the evening, when not pressed by Council matters, N'Chun Taan found himself in a quiet corner of the library. He would come in, night after night, say hello to Dancha, the librarian, and her Padawan Oshh. Every night, the assistant, a protocol droid with the designation B6-02 would ask if he needed anything, and always he would say no. Some masters took their wards with them for after hours studies, but now that Brene was older, Taan gave her evenings leave, provided she had completed all tasks. Tonight, she and a few others would be practicing with hardsabers in the atrium, Taan imagined. Taan never put much weight into his skill with a lightsaber. The war with Exar Kun had given him his fill of combat. Young Brene's path was less clear to him, so he encouraged her to pursue all manner of exercises and practices. While Taan's gift rested squarely in his words, perhaps one day she would be called upon to use her sword. Taan decided it was best she be prepared. The galaxy was a big place, even for a jedi.

"Especially for a Jedi," a voice from behind him said. Taan gave a low grunt, a laugh to his people, but often misinterpreted as disapproval by other sentients. The man behind him had known him long enough to spot the difference.

"You're up late, Master Galim," Taan said.

Galim pulled a chair over to the small table and glanced over the computer screen Taan had fixated himself to.

"I've only just arrived. Won't be staying more than a day, and something told me I'd find you here." Galim shook his head with a whistle. "Most sentients with a chip on their shoulder find more comfort in town at Hyrri's, brooding over something a bit stronger than military records."

Taan regarded the Ishi Tib, watched the amphibian man's eyestalks bend and retract as they scanned the library. Age graced the Ishi Tib less so than other races, but Galim wore it well.

"You've heard then?" Taan replied.

"It's not every day the Republic wishes to address a single master in person."

"These are the stiffest and driest records we have; so neat and orderly." Taan shook his head. "The Republic does not know how to tell a story."

"So that explains why the poor young captain couldn't sell you hers?"

Taan flicked through several pages, barely skimming. His old eyes glazed. "It wasn't her story; she was just a poor storyteller."

"And why would a young officer like her come halfway across the galaxy for an old Whiphid like you?" Galim asked.

"She came on behalf of an old friend. An Admiral Nonconna."

Galim whistled through the baleen of his teeth. "That old pirate, an Admiral?"

"The war left many open chairs, Galim. Too many, if you ask me."

Taan had pulled up a report of Admiral Nonconna's latest mission; aid to the Cusawis not three standard weeks ago. The reports from the Rim were troubling, there was no doubt about it, and he hated turning down Nonconna. If it had been any other officer, Taan could stand firm in his stance. But Taan had served with Nonconna on Ancrossa; it had been Nonconna's regiment that had been utterly obliterated. Thousands of men left behind their entire lives on the wound in that planet, yet Nonconna left behind only his left leg. Nonconna was not a suit in Coruscant. The man would not have appealed to him if he did not think it meant something.

"According to the latest reports," Taan began, "The Mandalorians have crossed the boundary into Trigonas space. They could be at Tul Trigona within the closing of the month."

Galim's eyestalks narrowed as he pulled up his own console at the table. "The Republic has less than amicable relation with Tul Trigona. If the Mandalorians have them scared enough to ask the Republic for aid…" He let the thought hang.

"My guess is that Nonconna's been assigned to Tul Trigona with a minimal force," Taan mused. "Until reports come back from that nightmare of bureaucracy, he could be walking into a death trap."

Galim continued to pour over his screen, each eyestalk seemingly looking at two different things. "Have you even been there, Taan?"

Taan allowed himself nostalgia. "Tul? Once or twice."

"And how did you find it?"

"Lacking."

The pair of them laughed. Several heads of more studios Jedi turned toward them, but quickly turned back. "An entire cluster ruled by an unbroken line of males stretching back a thousand years. How do they do it? Clones? Prenatal bioconstruction?"

"Luck, is my guess."

Galim rubbed a wet hand over his face to cool him down. "I never pegged you as one to believe in luck."

"Well Oma is nothing like his father from what I remember, and if Nonconna's lucky, Oma's son will be nothing like him."

A smile snaked from between the Ishi Tib's beak. "And now the depth of the knowledge comes forward. You speak with familiarity for this family."

Taan descended into his memory of the time spent on Tul Trigona. A lifetime ago, but there it was clear as day, in all it's beautiful squalor. Tul Trigona was a case study of monarchies waiting for the student undaunted enough to brave the red tape.

"I advised Oma Trigonas on matters of internal delicacy shortly after the war. Incorrigible sentient, but if he's extended talks to the Republic, perhaps something of my counsel got through to him."

"You always did have a way with words, my friend."

Taan gave a slight bow of his head in appreciation. Many sentients might respond in sarcasm, but for his entire verbal prowess, Taan felt lacking in such back talk.

Galim stood from his seat and rubbed his face again. "As much as I'd love to sit and swap war stories with you, N'Chun, this fish is not as spry as some of us in our age. Early morning meeting with the Council."

"And here I thought you'd be the second person to cross the galaxy for me today," Taan said. "What brings you to our sleepy corner of the galaxy?"

Galim grew dark and his thoughts became clouded. "I'm sorry friend, but this is for the Council only."

Taan exhaled deliberately to show his frustration. He knew if Galim couldn't tell him, he would be better off waiting for someone who could. The Ishi Tib was notoriously hard to read.

"I suppose I'll hear about it from Vrook in the meantime. Come find me before you head out. Perhaps we can go to Hyrri's instead of wasting your company with military records."

Galim shifted in his skin. Something was off, and Taan could feel it radiating off him like sweat, but the Jedi gave no indication as to what was troubling him. "Perhaps, friend. Perhaps."

Taan stood and shook Galim's hand. The slick coating of the Ishi Tib coated his chapped hand. "Always a pleasure to receive Master Galim."

Without another word, Galim turned toward the exit.

Morning found the Whiphid content in his chamber. Sunlight peeked through the window. Slowly, he willed his old bones to movement and threw on a modest tunic. He reached out through the Force, felt the planet come to life around him. In his mind, he could see Brene in her chamber, her mind an open channel deep in meditation. He had slept late, according to the chrono on the wall, and the temple around him had already woken up.

He poured himself a glass of water as he took in the new day; Galim was still on planet, but was out and about. His meeting with the Council must have been earlier than Taan thought. A small pulse of light, automated and subdued caught his attention. He checked the console near his bed. One of the droids had come by, an hour or so ago. It had not left a message. Curious, he thought. Perhaps Brene had intercepted it and took the message.

Beyond the threshold of his room, he took in the new sun. In the distance, the hum of the spaceport melded with the sounds of the rolling plains. It was a good day- a peaceful day. As he took in the morning sun, he let his mind wander deeper into Brene's. As he probed, he discovered something; she seemed troubled, as if her meditation were a response, rather than her usual exercise. He felt the connection waver as she allowed herself control; the sound of soft boots on concrete echoed throughout the temple.

"You're awake," she said. Taan detected a tiny hint of chastisement in her words- typical, he thought, for his padawan.

"Sleep found me well, little tusk. I see you have greeted the day better than me."

She glanced around, and then crossed her arms. A mixture of concern and disdain crossed her light red face. "A council droid came to find you this morning."

"So I gathered. I take it you took the message then?"

Concern turned to a dark hue of worry and she continued to scan the courtyard. "Yes, Master Taan." Her eyes darted over Taan's shoulders. "I apologize, master, the message was only for you, but the droid offered no resistance. I should have woken you."

Taan put a hand on her in comfort. Brene was a curious sentient by nature; he did not fault her for wanting to know more. "Do not fret, little tusk, there is no harm done. Just give me the message."

The Twi'lek cleared her throat. With a last scan of her surroundings, she spoke.

"They found her, Master. You've been summoned to the Council."