A few minutes later, Collective Commerce District, Coruscant
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Chiru asked, her disappointment evident in her voice as she surveyed the scene before her.
Standing on the run-down streets of CoCo Town, the rusted diner in front of her was brimming with life despite its dilapidated state. Customers constantly came into the establishment with a tired look on their face and a healthy appetite, and a few minutes later would leave with a full stomach and a smile. As the sun set on the horizon, a neon sign hanging by the door flickered to life, giving the diner a unique charm.
"What's wrong with it?" Karel asked, standing next to her.
"I suppose I was expecting something more... private."
Karel shook his head at her comment and went inside the small establishment, with Chiru following him in.
"Trust me, we don't need to worry about spies when dealing with Dex."
As they stepped through the entrance, Chiru's senses were overwhelmed with the unfamiliar scents and the loud conversations inside the establishment.
"Karel? Oh, it's so good to see you, boy!" a deep, booming voice resonated from the bustling kitchen.
Chiru turned her attention to the source of the voice. Emerging from the kitchen was a stout and jovial Besalisk with a white apron tied around his waist and a shirt of the same color. But it was thanks to his grease-stained shirt and friendly attitude that Dex was one of a few people Karel trusted.
As Dex embraced Karel with his four arms, a genuine affection evident in the gesture, Chiru found herself smiling at the heartwarming scene. It was a rare sight to witness the Master Chief, usually reserved and stoic, opening up with such ease in the presence of an old friend.
"Dex, this is Chiru," said the Mandalorian, motioning at her with his open hand. She nodded politely at the Besalisk and extended her hand, and he returned the greeting in kind. "She works with me in the army."
Dex's smile widened as he shook the Pantoran's hand. His grip was firm, yet friendly, and she could feel the chaos of the diner turn into a lively and comforting place. Motioning for them to join him in a booth nestled near the kitchen, Dex's eyes twinkled with delight. Chiru slid into the seat facing the entrance, her eyes scanning the room, while Karel settled beside her.
"So, what can I do for you?" he asked, his tone a delightful mix of friendliness and anticipation.
"The Bloodclaw Cartel." Karel removed his helmet, placing it on the table. "Ever heard of them?"
The grin on Dex's lips broadened, revealing a glimpse of his contagious enthusiasm. "Ah, the Bloodclaw. Elusive, slippery marauders. Crossed paths with them a few times back in my smuggling days."
"So you know them?" Chiru asked, puzzled by this new development. "I couldn't find anything in the Jedi Archives."
Her comment elicited a short laugh from Karel, and she looked up at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. Dex too seemed amused, and he idly brushed the fingers of his upper right hand against his moustache.
"You Jedi should be more… thorough with your records." Dex laughed to himself, a twinkle in his eyes as he leaned forward.
"And the underworld isn't exactly the friendliest place for a librarian," Karel added. "There must be a place where we can pay them a visit. Any idea where that is?"
"Oh no, no headquarters. They have a mobile base… a fleet."
"A fleet?"
"Yes, yes. A fleet. I heard they attacked a spice transport a few days ago outside of Hutt Space. I'd say about… twenty parsecs south of the Saleucami system."
"We got the name of their leader, Vol Yumpag," the Master Chief informed. "Does that name ring a bell?"
Dex's lower hands drummed rhythmically on the table, a display of his thoughtful contemplation. One of his upper hands lay across his lap, while the other rested beneath his chin. After a brief pause, he shook his head, disappointment clouding Chiru's face.
"What about the Levaki Syndicate?" she asked, a spark of curiosity in her voice.
Dex's eyes glistened, his enthusiasm reignited. A playful smile danced on his lips as he responded, "Ah, now you're talking! The Levaki are involved with the Hutts. They manage their spice operations in the Doran system."
As Karel absently fiddled with the kar'ta on his chest, a pensive expression washed over his face, enveloping him in a shroud of darkness. Sensing his inner turmoil, Chiru placed a comforting hand on his arm. A warm smile spread across her lips, a beacon of solace amidst the shadows.
"Thanks, Dex," said the Mandalorian, jamming his helmet on, "I think it's time we pay the Besadii a visit."
As they stood up and bid their farewell to Dex, Chiru's vambrace chimed off. She stepped outside of the diner, and she was met by the chill air of the night as she moved to the side of the building.
Answering the transmission, a flickering blue hologram materialized before her, revealing the stern visage of Master Windu. His voice resonated with authority as he addressed the Pantoran.
"Aturo, what is the status of your investigation?" he asked, his tone cutting through any pleasantries, getting straight to the point.
"Greetings, Master Windu," she began, meeting his gaze with respect. "We just learned that the Bloodclaw Cartel has a fleet from which they manage their operations, but we do not know its current location. As it turns out, the Levaki Syndicate has allied with one of the Hutt families. We are planning to meet with the Besadii and learn more about-
Master Windu interrupted her, his tone firm and decisive. "You will have to abandon your investigation. The Council has decided to focus the efforts of the Order in combating the threat of the Confederacy."
Chiru's brows furrowed in surprise, and she hesitated for a moment, processing the unexpected orders. She cleared her throat, steadying herself before she voiced her concerns. "But Master, is avoiding another conflict not the responsibility of the Order?"
"The decision of the Council is final. We have more pressing matters to attend to," the Jedi Master replied, leaving no room for discussion. "Master Naitep is leading the campaign at Duvren and is in need of reinforcements. You must leave now if you are to aid her in her upcoming attack."
Before she could even agree to the mission, Master Windu abruptly ended the call. Chiru was left standing alone in the middle of the street, oblivious to the sounds of the Coruscant nightlife around her. She looked down in defeat as the Master Chief came to stand a few meters away from her, having listened in on most of her brief conversation with Master Windu.
"He's not as stupid as I thought," he said, and the sound of his voice brought Chiru's attention back to him. If there was one person in the Jedi Order he respected, General Windu was not that person, and he wasn't afraid to make that clear.
"What?" She turned, confused, to face him as he stood with his arms crossed. Although she heard his backhanded insult for Master Windu, she didn't feel it was up to her to defend him.
"The Besadii are one of the five families that rule the Hutt Cartel. Now that the Hutts have allied with the Republic, the Republic doesn't want to do anything that might jeopardize that alliance, and that includes investigating their other allies. Between the Separatists and the Hutts, the slugs are the lesser evil."
Without saying anything else, the Mandalorian turned to walk back to the battalion headquarters where the Gray Hawk was already fueled and fully armed, ready to depart at a moment's notice. Left alone with her thoughts, Chiru looked up at the stars. Doubt and frustration gnawed at her, and she understood now why Master Di preferred not to wait for the Council's orders. Thinking of her Master helped her ground herself and she steeled her resolve. She reached out into the currents of the Force, looking for Ima-Gun as if she were walking blind through a dense fog, and the only thing to guide her was the steady beat of a drum. But even with their bond in the Force and her strong telepathic abilities, the massive distance between them made it difficult even for a Jedi of her skills.
Twenty one hours later
You look up as you hear two privates walk past you, keeping their heads down lest the clone snipers take a shot at them. You've been deployed to the front lines since the war broke out a few months ago, but it feels as if it's been an eternity since you didn't have to worry about your head getting blown off if you looked over the parapet. You already forgot what you wanted to do when you signed up to fight the Republic but it sure as hell wasn't this.
You pull out an old rag and start cleaning your blaster rifle. For kriff's sake no matter how much time you spend cleaning it every day, it's never enough. Opposite of you is Garwa, one of your fellow soldiers but who still looks like a child in an adult's uniform as he sits on an empty crate of rations. He is reading a copy of one of Dooku's lectures at Reena University, and he pays no attention to you as you turn your attention back to your rifle. You don't really care much for politics, the only reason you enlisted was because you didn't feel like letting your home be ruled by some useless politician on Coruscant or by an order of space wizards armed with laser swords, but you don't really see yourself as involved or even interested in the grand scheme of things.
"Not the power pack again," you say to yourself, frustrated as you pull it from the chamber with great difficulty. The quartermaster said you would be issued new equipment weeks ago, but he has been awfully quiet since.
You curse to yourself once more as you look up. There are no stars tonight, nor had there been any for days, and at that moment you start thinking of your home once again. You wish you had a warm shower, a soft bed and a meal that wasn't rations or rats you've caught in the trenches. You've already sent three requests to be given just a few weeks of leave, but they were all denied. Your captain said you'd at least be rotated to the rear soon but that was four days ago, maybe more. Life in the trenches is boring and monotonous and the days have blent into a blurry of cleaning your equipment, digging dugouts and sentry duty.
You shiver as the wind blows once more and you hurry to finish cleaning your rifle. Your uniform is too thin for the winter, but too thick for the summer. Your face and hands are covered in grime and mud, and your gloves are starting to tear. As you finish cleaning your weapon you remember something in your pocket and dig enthusiastically for it. Your excitement attracts Garwa's attention and he lifts his gaze from his datapad.
"What's with you?" he asks.
"Life Day came early this year," you reply sarcastically.
Confusion is etched across Garwa's face. It quickly transforms into surprise, and his eyes widen as you pull out the last of the chocolate bar your family sent you a month ago. You've been saving it for something special, like the aftermath of a battle or a promotion, but you figure today is as special a day as you would get in the trenches. You uncover a portion of the bar's wrapping and extend it to Garwa, who looks surprised that you would share something as precious as your last chocolate. That thing is practically worth its weight in aurodium here in the trenches. "Just take it before the Captain gets here or he'll take it for himself."
Before Garwa can accept your offer, a massive explosion appears far to the left of your position on what is the right flank of your unit, illuminating the night for a moment. The shockwave makes the trenches vibrate, shaking you violently as you stuff the chocolate bar back inside your jacket. After the initial shock has passed you stand up in haste, picking up your rifle. Soldiers soon begin rushing out from dugouts all around you and towards the site of the explosion. You look at Garwa, who is as confused as you are as he stops a lieutenant to ask him what's happening.
"We're under attack! That was the ammo dump they hit!" the lieutenant replies as shots are being fired in the distance.
Despite the complete darkness of the night you begin running through the trenches laid out in a zigzag. As you get closer and closer, the sounds of battle grow louder and louder. The rumble of explosions and the high-pitched sound of blasters firing makes you shake in your boots, and the orders shouted carelessly in the air give you a hint of what is happening.
"Hold the line!"
"Stop them!"
"Kill the Jedi!" you hear someone shout, followed by a pain of agony coming from the same person.
Jedi? You've heard stories about them, and how they kidnap babies to turn them into warriors. But whoever these Jedi are, you're sure they're no match for an entire battalion of trained soldiers. Or at least that's what you tell yourself as you reach the trenches that connect to the site of the fighting. At that moment you see a trio of your comrades being lifted meters high into the air only to fall violently back to the ground. One of them lands directly in front of you and you hear the sickening crunch of his neck fracturing as he lands head first on the ground. You meet his absent gaze, and tears begin forming in your eyes as you realize it is Garwa who has suffered such an unceremonious death right in front of your eyes. You drop to your knees, discarding your rifle as you take him by the shoulders and begin shaking him, his head moving loosely as you're too horrified to think clearly.
As his lifeless gaze meets yours once more you feel a mixture of rage, grief and fear all in equal measure. Your ears are filled with the sounds of your comrades dying gruesome deaths just a few meters away from you, but you soldier on. With rage in your heart, you lay down Garwa on the ground. You take a moment to breathe as you prepare to face the Jedi. Your hands are shaking as you take your rifle and round the corner. As you raise your rifle you come face to face with the attackers, but you aren't prepared for what you see.
The world seems to stop around you as you see a Mandalorian and a Jedi standing with their backs to one another at the center of a large pit in the trenches. With only a narrow section on the right and left flank of the pit acting as choke points to their position, the two of them are now annihilating your unit. They move with an unnatural fluidity, as if their bodies are connected and the movements of one of them are the reaction to those of the other one.
The Mandalorian is a terrifying opponent as he fires at your comrades as soon as they enter the battle and brutally kills those approaching to engage him in melee combat. It all happens so fast, but you see everything. One moment he is slashing your captain's throat, the next one he is using him as a living shield before he drops the lifeless body and it falls to the mud. A single blaster bolt hits him on the left shoulder and for a split second you think he might fall, but it is harmlessly deflected by his armor as he proceeds to launch his grappling hook at the attacker's throat, then pulling him in and stabbing him in his left eye.
The Jedi is no easier target. Her movements are more precise and restrained, but still as deadly as those of her partner. Her blue skin contrasts with her golden eyes and tattoos and her lilac hair, the latter of which would be captivating if not for the smell of searing flesh that follows every cut and thrust of her weapon. The dim blue light of her weapon moves in a flurry, humming gently as she slays your comrades one after the other. Some of the men take aim at her with their blaster rifles and open fire in quick succession one after the other but mere moments after they fall themselves, with their attacks easily deflected by the Jedi's laser sword. Corpses of your fellow soldiers surround the pair, a few of them even have severed limbs or gruesome wounds.
As you lift your gaze back to the pair, the Mandalorian produces a jet of fire from his left hand and turns in a circle, burning everything and everyone around him. The Jedi ducks just in time for him to burn the men in front of her before the two face the flank from which you came. You feel both of their gazes fall on you and you freeze in fear. The Jedi extends a blue hand towards you and the jet of fire is suddenly thrust towards you with great force. The flames fill your view and you feel their heat against your face, convinced it will be the last thing you will ever see. You pull away from the fire just enough to avoid its devastating effect, stumbling backwards and falling in the mud.
Your rifle falls beside you, your courage gone in an instant. You panic while you try to crawl away from the battle, filtering out the screams of your dying comrades. The smell of burning flesh makes you want to vomit but you force yourself not to as you find a small dugout and hide there, crying for your mother like a scared child while outside the screams of your fellow soldiers pierce through the night.
After a few moments you hear the sound of boots walking through the mud, slowly making their way through your trenches. Your breath stops as you see the Mandalorian appear, and your heart is pounding in your chest as he halts in front of your dugout and slowly turns his head towards you. You're begging to the universe that the darkness of the night will be enough to protect you from a certain death at his hands. He stands there for a few seconds, and you are almost certain that his gaze has met yours behind his helmet. Then, you hear a low whisper amidst the chaos of battle.
"Go home."
He turns back to face the trench ahead of him, and the single phrase repeats itself in your mind over and over. Moments later you see clones pass in front of you and you realize they have taken your position. You have to get out of here before you are captured or worse. Forget about the war, you're not planning on dying today.
You listen carefully for any signs of anyone outside and after a moment you peek your head to find only the corpses of your fellow soldiers lying on the mud and the vultures feasting on the carrion. You pick up your blaster rifle, just in case you might need it, then swallow hard as you climb out of the trenches. You start running away from the battlefield, away from the war, away from everything. Your legs carry you until you leave it all behind. After what feels like hours you finally reach a small forest. War has yet to leave its ugly scars upon these woods but you can't say the same about yourself.
You sink to your knees and look down at your hands. You're trembling, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You slowly lift your gaze. The sounds of battle will haunt you for the rest of your life and the sight of your dead friends is now burnt into your mind as you stare off into the distance, your gaze blank and unfocused. Wars come and go, but you have been marked by their curse.