Coruscant, Jedi Temple

Day Nine, mid-morning

Kit Fisto stood, arms folded, in front of the holotable as he waited for a connection between Jedha and Coruscant to be established. It took several minutes for that to happen, and another half hour for the Guardian on duty to locate Quinlan Vos, during which time Kit meditated and finished some Council-related work. At last, however, the blue light flickered, glitched, and resolved into a three-dimensional image of the Kiffar.

"Hey, Kit," he said, sounding a bit surprised. "Baze said the Jedi requested my presence. I assumed the Council wanted a report."

"Ah," the Nautolan replied, belatedly realizing he should have explained himself to the messenger. "He was not precisely mistaken. A Jedi requested your presence, and that Jedi was myself."

"I see," said Quinlan. His commlink beeped, and he glanced briefly at it. "What's up, then? I've got about five things to do in the next couple hours, including placing false trails and sabotaging an enemy speeder."

"Don't get caught," Kit said in a cheerful voice. "Because, as it turns out, you are needed back on Coruscant."

"What?!"

"I said –"

"I heard you," Quinlan interrupted, and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "But . . . Coruscant? Seriously?"

"I am perfectly serious," Kit Fisto said.

"Oh, come on. Of all times – I only just got a solid lead!"

"Another Jedi will finish tracing this lead for you," said Kit.

"I suppose another Jedi can't deal with Coruscant," said Quinlan.

"No."

The Kiffar sighed.

"I will explain," said Kit Fisto. "The situation in the Senate –"

Quinlan lifted a hand to stop him. "There's always a situation in the Senate, Kit. Which one are we talking about?"

"The one involving Hilt and his mysterious killer. It has gotten worse. Only a short time ago, Commander Fox came to the Temple to personally to ask for your help."

"Well, I feel honored." But despite his flippant tone, Quinlan frowned. "He actually came to the Temple? And asked for my help? Kit. . . exactly how bad is this situation?"

"Bad enough."

"There were four murders, right?"

"There were." Kit Fisto shook his head. "In all, there are now nine murders. The latest victim was one Senator Elin."

"Oh," said Quinlan, straightening a little. "The one who insisted she barely knew Hilt . . .? Now, that's interesting."

The Nautolan eyed him. "Quinlan, people are being systematically executed. I would hesitate to call it interesting."

"Right, yeah." Kit's fellow Jedi gave a faint grimace. "I should probably keep that in mind when talking to people. Were the rest of the victims Hilt's former servants?"

"Yes. His entire retinue is now dead. Neither the Coruscant Guard nor the CSF have any definite leads at the moment. Commander Fox will give you the details, but the short version is that he believes a psychometric reading of a murder weapon to be the only current option."

"Oh, great. . ." Turning, Quinlan glanced over his shoulder. "Tell me this: is anyone else likely to die if I don't show up in the next twenty-four hours?"

"I have no way of knowing that, as you are perfectly aware. There are no further potential victims – that we know about. Nonetheless, it would be best if you come back swiftly."

"Right."

"And do not worry about the mission to Jedha. The Council has authorized me to send another Jedi, who will take over for you."

"Cool. . . maybe. Who were you thinking of sending?"

Kit Fisto ignored him, because he hadn't decided yet. "Quinlan, is there any reason – any reason whatsoever – to suspect that Zenaya is personally involved on Jedha?"

"None." To Kit's relief, Quinlan looked and sounded utterly confident. "I went in presuming she was responsible, and still found nothing. The murder and theft here were definitely the work of a gang, who seem to have money as their motive. My best guess is, they're gathering the kyber for a client."

"But could that client be Zenaya?"

"It's – possible." Quinlan folded his arms and gazed at the ground. "But I haven't caught even the slightest hint of her involvement. She'd . . . yeah, she'd definitely make herself known if I'd been interfering in her plans."

"Excellent." Slipping his hands into his wide sleeves, Kit Fisto thought for a moment. There were only a few Jedi Knights right now who were on leave, and who were experienced enough with criminals to handle solo missions. He'd already narrowed it down to a choice between Agen Kolar and Aayla Secura. . .

"Well, then," he said. "Would you say the mission on Jedha will require a strong, forceful approach –"

The Jedi Shadow scoffed.

"– or," Kit went on, undeterred, "would you say that an ability to blend in and approach things secretively would be more important?"

Quinlan actually stopped to think about that. "The second for sure," he said at last. "And not just because that's my preferred method. This gang is no group of ruffians. By all appearances, they're organized and well-trained, and I'm still not sure how many of 'em there are."

Perhaps Aayla would be best choice, then.

"Ah," Kit said aloud. "Best estimate as to their numbers, then?"

"Fifty, at least, and they're not just thugs."

"Fifty?" Perhaps Agen Kolar was the better option after all.

Even as Kit thought it, though, he sensed that wasn't the case. "I will be sending Aayla to Jedha," he said. "She knows how you work, and will be able to keep hold of things while you are on Coruscant."

Quinlan nodded reluctantly. "Send her with some help, then," he said. "I could be wrong about the threat level, and I doubt I'll be able to wrap up the Coruscant mission within a couple of days."

"Unfortunately, I am incapable of sending another Knight with her," Kit said. "We are stretched too thin as it is. However, I might be able to request a team from among the clone troopers."

His former crechemate only shot him a critical look, as if he didn't trust the Nautolan Jedi to pick anyone skilled enough.

"Do not worry," Kit Fisto said firmly. "I will ensure that Aayla has help. Once she and her team have met with you and been briefed on the situation, return immediately to Coruscant."

"Will do," said Quinlan casually, leaning his weight on one foot as he looked down at his comm again. "Uh – is there anything else? Because I left a couple of Guardians trying to sabotage a landspeeder."

Kit blinked. "Trying to?"

"Well, one of 'em doesn't know how to sabotage vehicles," Quinlan explained off-handedly. "And the other one's blind, so. . ."

Kit Fisto shook his head, wondering how his former crechemate got himself into so many unlikely situations. "Well, in that case," he said, "may the Force be with you."

And he ended the call without waiting for a response.

Then, he put in another call, this time to Obi-Wan's flagship, the Negotiator. An obliging clone officer redirected his call from the Negotiator to the Resolute, where Commander Cody had been stationed for the past couple of days. Then, once the connection was finally made, another obliging officer went to fetch Cody, who was no doubt occupied with organizing some large-scale operation.

Kit waited for several minutes. He was just wondering if he had time to obtain a cup of tea from the drink station across the hall when Cody appeared in front of him and saluted.

"Commander Cody!" Kit Fisto said, smiling. "I am relieved to see that you are alive and well."

Cody took the comment in stride, like he always did. "Thank you, General," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "What can I do for you?"

"I would like to send some commandos to assist Jedi Knight Aayla Secura, who will be on the moon Jedha before evening. I have already sent the data to you."

"Yes, sir," said Cody, his head tilted just a little to the side. The computer screens around Cody didn't show up on the holograph, but Kit was certain that he was reading the mission details. "Any specific skills needed?"

"An ability to adjust rapidly to the situation will be necessary," said Kit. "Please pick a few good men at your discretion, Commander . . . Although, if the Delta Squad is available, I would request them in particular."

"They're available, General," said Cody, and leaned forward to type something into the consol nearby. "I'll redirect them to the Resolute immediately."

"My thanks, Commander. And please, extend my greetings and my thanks to the Deltas."

"Of course, sir. Is General Secura's ETA on Jedha still sixteen hundred hours, Coruscant time?"

"That is correct. But there is no rush, Commander; even if the squad does not join General Secura until late tonight, it will not affect the mission."

"Understood, sir."

After his call with Cody ended, Kit tried to contact Quinlan once more, to assure him that he had a team ready to assist Aayla. By the time the call went through to Jedha, though, Quinlan was out in the city. According to the young woman on duty, he was busy scouting with two of the Guardians.

"I see," said Kit, unsurprised that Quinlan had left no further contact information with the girl. The Shadow had a habit of going comms-silent when he was investigating something. "Will he be back soon?"

"I don't know, Master Jedi. He might not be back in the city tonight."

"Very well," said Kit. "It is not too terribly important. But if you see him again, please tell him that I am sending him a team I have worked with before."

"Certainly, Master Jedi."

Kit thanked her and said goodbye. The girl was still conscientiously writing down the message when he ended the call.

Coruscant, Jedi Temple

Day Nine, late morning

Aayla Secura sat cross-legged, eyes lightly shut and hands resting on her knees as she meditated beneath the drooping branches of an uneti tree. She had loved this room her whole life as a Jedi – in fact, the very first time she'd seen it had been the day she was brought to the Temple.

As clearly if it were only yesterday, she remembered clinging to Quinlan's and Master Tholme's hands as the three of them entered the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It had been so vibrant and so full of life, especially for a girl who had only ever seen the dune-filled deserts of Ryloth.

To this day, it remained her favorite place in all of Coruscant. The halls of the Temple were always quiet, but this room was truly peaceful, in a way Aayla rarely experienced elsewhere. The waterfalls and vibrant greenery and songbirds would have been beautiful enough on their own; but it was here that the Force was truly serene, free of the eddies of intent and concern and grief and doubt that filled the Jedi halls.

When Aayla had been a padawan, those threads of emotion had often been present in the Temple, but not prevalent. Since the start of the war, though, they had become constant and unwavering, feeding each other in a slow but never-ending spiral.

The Jedi, those who felt those emotions, rarely had the chance to pause now, to truly stop and consider; Aayla was no different. She was so used to the sadder, more muted Force ambience of the Temple now that she hardly even noticed . . . until she meditated in this life-filled room. It was as if all the Jedi had been exposed to so much doubt and sorrow and fear on the battlefield that the Temple seemed utterly peaceful by comparison – when, in reality, before the war began, the current level of tension and emotion in the atmosphere of the Temple would have been cause for significant alarm.

Sighing, Aayla leaned back against the smooth bark of the tree, greeting it in her mind. Uneti trees were not sentient, but they were mildly Force-sensitive. In the Force, they felt similar to kyber crystals, but more . . . sedate. Less affected by the ebbs and swirls of the Force. It was, of course, possible to affect a tree with the Dark Side; it was possible to affect most things with the dark. But it was much harder to corrupt a tree than it was to bleed a crystal.

This particular tree had been rescued as a sapling, nearly seven centuries ago, by Master Yoda, who had found it struggling to grow in a Sith valley. Master Yoda had once told Aayla that when he found it, the leaves and bark were black and grey. But it had clearly flourished after being brought to the Temple; now, the leaves were gold, and the bark was a smooth cream color. The only evidence that remained of its exposure to the Dark Side was the slight twist in the base of its trunk.

Unexpectedly, something brushed at Aayla's lekku, and she looked up to see that a thin branch was bent now, brushing her head with its feathery golden leaves. Smiling, she turned to rest the side of her forehead against the tree.

"You will never be what you were before you were corrupted," she said softly, touching the branch which now rested over her shoulder. "But you have healed, my friend. If only that could be true of the Jedi Order. . . I do not think we will ever return to what we once were. We have lost something, somewhere along the way, and none of us seem to know what it is. . . Perhaps we have been losing something for generations, and never noticed it."

The tree, of course, gave her no answer.

Ever since Maridun, Aayla had been increasingly uneasy about the war. She did not think, as the village leader Tee Watt Kaa had, that violence was never necessary or permissible. He had thought that the Jedi should not be fighting at all, and that there was never a reason for violence, not even in self-defense. . . not even against droids.

But despite his unwillingness to let Aayla and her teammates defend his village from the droids, he had made one good point – the Jedi could no longer be called peacekeepers. Perhaps that was what the Jedi had lost. . . but no, it couldn't be just that they fought. Martial abilities had always been part of the Jedi Order. In past decades, Jedi would rarely have had to fight on the battlefield, but they had always fought. It was necessary for them to fight in defense of the innocent when called on.

Aayla closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree.

There were Jedi who did not care for the Republic, and there were Jedi who felt a kind of patriotism towards it. Then there were Jedi who thought the Order should help the Republic, but be independently governed, answerable only to their Council in all matters except crime, free to act on their beliefs regardless of the Senate's current political agendas. Aayla was one of these Jedi. So were Quinlan Vos and Kit Fisto, and others who were less vocal about their opinions.

There had been hesitation at first, when the war broke out, among some of the more pacifist Jedi; they hated the idea of fighting on a battlefield, taking life after life while fighting enemy soldiers who wouldn't stand a chance against them, and Aayla understood. Fighting enemy soldiers was vastly different from fighting terrorists or criminals or assassins.

But in the end, even those Jedi joined the war effort. What made the choice so easy was that the Separatists used droids as their soldiers. Even the most scrupulous among the Jedi had no hesitation about cutting down pieces of programmed metal.

The clones, on the other hand, were living beings, and the Jedi could not refuse to protect the millions of troopers being sent into battle by the Republic.

Just in Aayla's 327th, there were scores of troopers – including, by now, many of the officers – who would be dead three times over if she hadn't been there to shield them with her lightsaber.

". . . And yet," Aayla murmured.

The tree leaves quivered, rustling ever so faintly against the side of her neck, and she touched the branch again as it withdrew from her shoulder. "Our path forward is hidden," she said quietly. "The Force is so clouded. What can we do, but make the best choices we can see at the moment?"

There was no answer to that. So why did it sound like she was making excuses for herself and her fellow Jedi?

I can't explain it, her master had said tiredly, in the comm call he had with her some weeks after Malachor. I'm not justifying it. I don't know, Aayla – I just . . . made the best choices I saw at the moment.

And those choices had led to him Falling. Aayla had known, from across the galaxy, the exact moment when he let the Dark take over and use him, even though she hadn't recognized it for what it was at the time. At first, she had been afraid he was dead; only later had she realized what had truly occurred. When he explained everything to her, days later, she could hardly believe it. And yet, she had to.

Maybe it should not have surprised her as much as it did. Her master was one of the very few Jedi she knew who truly became attached to people. . . a tendency she shared, and had long struggled against. Quinlan had always had more trouble with it, though – and more trouble with following the Code.

But he was not the only one at fault in this regard. More and more frequently, lines were being drawn in the sand by Jedi – knights, padawans, and even masters. More and more, they were questioning things that they had never questioned before, and making decisions based on their values and principles, sometimes in direct violation of the Jedi Code, or against orders from the Council. And as a result, there was more and more division among the Jedi themselves, even if it was, as yet, relatively subtle.

Standing, Aayla turned to the tree and rested a hand against it. Her gaze flitted from the odd twist near the base of its trunk to its softly rustling golden leaves. It gave her hope that even if the Jedi were going through a time of upheaval and uncertainty, they could eventually recover, as this tree had. It was the way of living things to heal, after all – if they did not die.

"Aayla?"

Sending a quiet farewell to the tree, Aayla stepped away from it and turned to face Kit Fisto as he appeared around a bend in the path. The Nautolan was a childhood friend of her master's, and had been more an uncle to Aayla herself than her biological uncles ever had.

"Ah, I thought I would find you here," he said, his black eyes observing the uneti tree. "I apologize for disturbing your peaceful solitude, but the Council has a new mission for you."

Aayla smiled at him, even though she didn't feel like it. It had hardly been two days since she and the 327th had returned from an extended mission. "A mission, so soon?" she said, joining him on the narrow dirt path. "My men will have hardly finished resupplying, and many of the troopers are on medical leave. I will need reinforcements, and time to rejoin my fleet."

"Ah, do not worry about that." He gestured for her to precede him across a wooden bridge. "Your men will not be involved. This is a solo mission, at least for the moment – though Commander Cody is assigning a special forces team to you."

Aayla was surprised. "A special forces team?"

"Yes, a squad of clone commandos. I have worked with them in the past, and they are excellent. They are traveling separately. But in the meantime, you will fly to Jedha, where you will meet Master Vos."

"I am to replace him on one of his missions?"

"Yes, he is needed here. But he will give you all the details before turning the mission over to you."

"As the Council commands," Aayla said. Despite her reply, though, some part of her dreaded meeting her former master. She had not seen him since before he went to Malachor. "When should I leave?"

"Within the hour," he answered, and then added, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "That is, if you do not need more time to prepare."

He knew perfectly well that she would be ready to leave within a third of that time, if need be. Smiling again, this time more sincerely, Aayla said, "You might find that timeframe difficult, Master Fisto, but I have an unfair advantage."

"Yes?" Kit Fisto asked a bit warily. "And what is that?"

"The advantage of youth."

The Nautolan laughed. "On your way, young Aayla, and tell your master not to waste time in returning here."

"I will do so," she answered, and the two Jedi exchanged bows and went their separate ways.

Mid Rim

Day Ten, middle of the night

Hunter stared out into hyperspace, not really thinking of anything in particular as the Marauder traveled towards the supply station. He'd been on hyperspace watch for a few hours, and hyperspace watch was a mind numbing task at best. It was hard to keep his focus on anything after the first thirty minutes. Because of this, it took him a moment to notice that there was a light flashing on the consol to his left. Hunter blinked. Double white light – their unofficial comm channel.

Suddenly feeling more awake, Hunter straightened and turned his head to notify his teammates. "Incoming transmission on secondary channel."

"It's probably Quinlan," said Crosshair, and settled disinterestedly back in his chair. "You answer it."

"Transmission?" Wrecker, who had been dozing in one of the chairs, sat up suddenly as Tech came into the cockpit. "Hope it's Cody with a new mission for us!"

"If it were, he would be using the official comm channel," said Tech, straightening his goggles. "He is not. Therefore it is most likely Cody without a new mission for us, or it is Quinlan."

Now that they were all present, Hunter answered the comm.

The blue holographic figure of Quinlan came into view. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground, slouched forward, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand. "You guys are so slow at answering your comms," he complained.

"Good to see you, too," Hunter answered, trying to hold back a grin. It had been a few months since their mission to Malachor, and in that time they'd only received one comm call from the Jedi Shadow.

Tech leaned forward to track the transmission source, and Wrecker moved closer so he could be within range of the transmitter. "Quinlan!" he yelled cheerfully.

"Hey, big guy!" Quinlan straightened a bit, grinning. "How're things? Everyone alive and well and more or less sane?"

"Alive and well." Crosshair sidled into the holotransmitter's range, then added, around his toothpick, "Not sane."

"Good to hear," Quinlan said. "I wouldn't expect anything less. I mean, more."

"What about you?" Hunter asked.

". . . definitely less sane than I used to be."

"Hm," Tech said absently. "That is a relatively frightening thought. Quinlan, what are you doing on Jedha?"

"Currently? I'm sitting at a campfire."

"Sounds fun," said Hunter, folding his arms. "So. What else are you doing on Jedha?"

"Making tea." The Kiffar leaned forward to pick up a metal canteen, presumably as proof, and gave it a shake. "Because I'm sitting at a campfire."

Hunter attempted to look unimpressed. "And . . . what, you called us because you were bored?"

"Exactly, I was bored and you were the only option at a semi-intelligent conversation, emphasis on the 'semi-'." The Jedi carelessly tossed the canteen back near the fire. Then his face lost its smirk, and he said, "Actually, that's not true. I'm calling to ask if you guys are between missions right now."

"Yup!" Wrecker answered. "Why, you got something for us to do?"

"Potentially."

"Well," Tech said. "We are currently en route to resupply. It would not take particularly long to get to Jedha from there."

Hunter met Crosshair's gaze questioningly, received a nod in reply, and turned to Quinlan again. "Are you asking if we're available for a mission?"

"Yes."

"I think we are," said Hunter, wondering if this would be anything like the last mission with the Shadow. "We haven't heard anything from the commander."

"The commander?" A quick grin flickered across Quinlan's face. "As in, 'the commander' with capital letters?"

Hunter tilted his head. ". . . What?"

"You say it a certain way when you're talking about Commander Cody as opposed to any other commander. Kind of like this: 'The Commander.' Know what I'm saying?"

"I –" As Hunter blinked in surprise, Quinlan grinned, Tech smirked dryly, and Crosshair snorted.

Wrecker, meanwhile, seemed to find it absolutely hilarious. "Capital letters!" he guffawed, clapping Crosshair on the back. "Aw, man, that's so right!"

The sergeant sent a quelling frown in Wrecker's direction. "Yes, I meant Commander Cody," he said grumpily, which only made Quinlan look more amused.

"So," the Jedi said. "In short, are you currently available to come bother some gangsters and the like."

Hunter nodded, putting a hand on the armrest. "As far as our official status is concerned, we're on standby. Since Cody hasn't contacted us, I guess that means we're available for now."

"Awesome." Quinlan grinned. "And hey, if he ends up calling you in for a job, you can always leave Jedha."

"Hmm," said Crosshair. "If we're able to leave. Unlike last time."

"You'll be able to leave," the Jedi answered, rolling his eyes. Then he looked down at his chronometer and added, "Going by GST, it's oh-one-hundred, so – yeah. If you guys get here in the next twelve hours, I'll be able to meet up with you and brief you on the situation before I head back to Coruscant."

"Coruscant?" Hunter asked. "We aren't working with you?"

"Eh – no . . ." Quinlan shrugged. "As it turns out, I'm needed back on good old Triple Zero for another CG-slash-psychometry-related mission, which means I have to leave you under the dubious direction of another Jedi Knight. But that won't be a problem because she's – hang on, wait a sec." He jumped to his feet, glancing over one shoulder, then turned back to the commlink and whispered, "Uh, the assassin's on his way back. When you get to Jedha, meet me at the Catacombs of Cadera. Bye!"

The hologram flickered once, then faded.

Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose, and Hunter frowned in thought, leaning his chin on one hand.

"The assassin," repeated Crosshair flatly. He shifted the toothpick between his lips and leaned back in the copilot's seat, closing his eyes.

"Eh, Quinlan can handle it." Wrecker didn't sound in the least concerned. "Hey, you think we can get to Jedha in the next twelve hours?"

"Barring any unforeseen complications, yes." Tech tapped the navi-computer's screen. "We are currently forty-three and a half minutes from the supply station. From there, even including loading time, we can get to Jedha in approximately ten hours."

Hunter drew a breath and let it out, hoping again that this mission wouldn't be like the Malachor one. It didn't sound like it – gangsters were pretty easy to deal with, after all. Then again, even the 'easy' part of that mission, on Nar Shaddaa, hadn't exactly lived up to the description.

"Okay, then," he said to Tech. "Guess that's our plan."

"Hey," Wrecker mused. "I wonder which Jedi Knight he meant."

"There are currently three thousand, six hundred and seventy-two Jedi Knights positioned in the Mid Rim," said Tech. "Approximately forty-eight percent of those are female. Considering that the Jedi Council is simply assigning a replacement for Quinlan, the Knight who ends up on Jedha could be any of the one thousand, seven hundred and sixty-two Jedi in question.

"Right," Hunter said. "Guess we'll find out when we get there. In the meantime, let's get some rest and make sure our supplies and ammo are in order."