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Chapter 26. Trooper, Jedi Consular, and Jedi Knight (1/2)
from Part 4. Growing Pains
Galaxy Without End
*
Fade made Jorgan her XO. Of course she did. Seven years of service to Dorne's two, and he had been screwed out of a promotion by politics. Fade wanted to do right by everyone in her squad, and the memory of the look on Jorgan’s face when he took that demotion to Sergeant was impossible to argue with. He took his promotion gruffly, and didn’t quite smile at her until after Dorne was out of the room.
Onward.
*
“That poor girl,” Tebbith said in a strained voice. “We need to help her.”
“That poor girl,” Tharan said in a very different tone. “We need to help her.”
Nadia Grell had signaled from the bridge of the embattled Fortitude. Sith were on board, and the girl and her Senator father were trapped on the bridge.
It wasn’t often Tebbith had such clear instruction from the nature of the situation. Droids and Imperial soldiers held choke points through the ship, and there were multiple civilians at blaster’s point on the bridge. It was a military situation with a diplomatic objective.
Tebbith knocked out a lot of people, not gently. Time was of the essence.
He tried to engage with the Sith. He really did. But the man cackled about the fall of the Republic and threatened to murder the child, Nadia. That could not be allowed.
He pinned the Sith against the front viewport and said, “You know, I hear there are bounty hunters who carry a portable device to freeze people in carbonite. That would certainly prevent situations like the one I’m about to implement.”
Tharan cocked his head. “Master Jedi?”
Tebbith said, “Surrender and hand over your weapon.”
The Sith said, “No.”
Tebbith activated his lightsaber. The fight was short; Tebbith was back to full strength after the Plague ordeal, and he had his powers of levitation and impact to supplement his saber form. The villain put up a fight, but he clearly wasn’t prepared for attacks other than lightsaber swinging. Tebbith did bring his lightsaber to bear, at the end.
“There has to be a better way,” Tebbith muttered.
A big man with blue markings on his face hauled himself to his feet and rushed to Tebbith. “Master Jedi! Are you all right?”
About as right as he ever felt after taking a life. “I should be asking you,” he said gently. “Senator Grell? Where is your daughter?”
“When she finished haranguing the Sith she took shelter over—come out, Nadia.”
Tharan rushed to her side. “Are you hurt?”
She blinked uncertainly at him. “No, I’m fine. Thank you. There are others. You…sir? Master Jedi?”
And huge silver eyes fixed on Tebbith. (Tharan sighed loudly, for some reason.) Tebbith nodded. “It’s all right. Where are your wounded?”
“Just about where he dropped us,” somebody grumbled from the bay that angled down from the bridge’s edge.
“Tharan, with me, please. Could you ask Holiday to assess the state of the ship?”
“Its status is going down,” a stately Twi’lek woman said in a voice that could peel paint. “We’re going to crash into the planet.”
“We need to divert into the moon,” Senator Grell said dully. “There’s a chance of survival.”
Nadia said quickly, “There are thrusters we can override to get to a stable orbit.”
Holiday appeared on a holo on deck. “I don’t know who the tactician is, but you’re right. I can guide people to the proper thruster controls. We need four teams. Tactician?” She didn’t seem quite certain of whom to hand things off to.
“I’ll take one,” Nadia said. “Father, you shouldn’t run far. You take the forward lateral. Master Jedi, if you stay here your friend can get thruster three. Then Alauni or one of the others…"
“Less talk more moving,” said the Twi’lek.
It worked.
*
The idea of the Rift Alliance was not entirely out of Tebbith’s course of studies. He had read about interplanetary politics, the importance of learning protocol, the philosophical lines that ran beneath compatible civilizations. He had enjoyed the reading, but being dropped onto one of those lines surrounded by hair-trigger politicians was…well, not something he felt prepared for.
He listened to a number of grievances. He said he would consider them while the ambassadors got comfortable on the Gnost-Dural. He contacted Larr Gith.
She came up in clinging formal wear. And she lit up like a golden torch. “Teb! How are things?”
“Complicated,” he said. “Where are you going next for work?”
“Balmorra. I can’t talk much about it. I assume you’ll be in on the final plan, but right now…just, Balmorra.”
“I might be able to scrape up some work there. A full coup d’etat. You know, if it’s something you’d have time for.”
Larr Gith’s little holo image stared at him. “Teb, ever since you became a Master, you’ve gotten weird.”
“That’s been two weeks.”
“Well, it shows. Balmorra’s not a nice place, you should see the size of the bugs. But we can fight the Empire there, and get some tech into the deal. Holo me when you’re on planet. I want to know everything.”
*
Tebbith and Larr Gith’s local contacts were troublesome for very different reasons, but some work on Balmorra was of a familiar type.
In a little nook sheltered from the rocky landscape, Larr Gith said, “Teeseven? Whatcha doin’?”
T7-01, who had begun rolling, stopped in place. Iain Sarkus, a Balmorran Twi’lek of the recently captured Hawkeyes, looked up, his pale eyes dancing. “We don’t want the Imps watching when I get lifted out of here. So I’ve given your droid some instructions on things you could subject to, ah, kinetic obsolescence.”
“Oh.”
It could have been a beautiful day if it weren’t for the smoking craters and ongoing air strikes and fountains of sticky bug vomit. It could have been a beautiful day, were Larr Gith not on Balmorra, teamed up with Tebbith to help kick the Imperial asses off of it. Even the excitement of Larr’s main mission couldn’t make this place charming or special. Tebbith was accepting it all with his usual steady determination, but Larr could tell the destruction was already wearing on him. They would both be happier when Kira caught up, and happier still when they could leave.
Here, in a rocky gorge where the Imperials had poured a ready-made military facility, Larr looked at the droid and the cheerful Twi’lek and said, “Okay. Teb, go with him to the extraction point, you saw it back there. Teeseven and I will go…accelerate kinetic obsolescence.”
“I’ll be happy to see you back in Bugtown,” Sarkus said.
“Tell Tharan not to spend Jedi funds on refurbishing that lab he found, and I’ll see you when I get the rest of the Hawkeyes out of Imperial custody. Fair?”
“Fair?” He chuckled. Really trying to hold up the morale side of things. “I feel like buying you a drink isn’t enough.”
“Show me one good thing about this planet when we meet again. If that’s a drink, I won’t complain. Now shoo.”
Teeseven’s head spun and it beeped hopefully. Jedi Larr + T7 = kinetic accelerators?
“I think Black Bisector was the consensus on Coruscant, remember? C’mon, it’ll be like the Gree in reverse. Let’s hobble Imperial infrastructure.”
Kira met Larr outside the base and duly whistled at the rising columns of smoke. “Blue nonagon’s got nothing on you,” she said, having instantly reached the same memory Larr had thought and not mentioned to her.
“I’ll be seeing Sarkus when we get back to Bugtown,” Larr said, in an effort to communicate a bright side.
“And is that before or after Madine?” Kira said innocently.
“My heroism meter’s still filling. Madine’s not happy with me yet. He will be.”
“I am sometimes scared to think what happens if guys like him aren’t.”
Kira added, “Plus Jedi Plus Jedi? If we pick up Master Tebbith and Master Warren, your introduction’s going to get downright unwieldy.”
T7 + all local Jedi = success?
“Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”
*
The guy who was supposed to know where Tanno Vik had gone was deep in the spaceport sector of Sobrik City. Fade watched the Imperial patrols for a few minutes, then said, “Forex? Make sure everyone we wound ends up dead. I do not want their higher-ups understanding what’s going on here.”
“Acknowledged, Captain.”
Dorne surveyed the scene, but her voice was pitched for her companions. “A bit much, Captain?”
“This is an enemy city. Every soldier here is sworn to serve the Sith. We aren’t here to take prisoners.”
Something shifted. A figure waving two bright blue blades leaped like a coursing hound into the nearest Imperial patrol. A second figure with a dual yellow blade followed.
“Hey!” yelled Fade. “Those were mine!”
The patrol had been four men and a war droid. They were outnumbered and outclassed in every way.
At least the newcomers stopped when Fade did—that is, only after the Imps were down. Fade lowered her cannon and stared at the interlopers.
A tall brown Zabrak who hadn’t even drawn a weapon drew himself up and nodded respectfully. “Officer. I am the Jedi Master Tebbith. These are my friends: Qyzen Fess, Tharan Cedrax, Larr Gith, Kira Carsen, and of course T7-01.”
“And Doc!” Fade swung her cannon to the ready, but the man who jumped out of the shadow of a streetlight seemed to be unarmed, and the Jedi seemed to expect him. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Are you a sight for sore eyes. Come with me.”
“My objective is classified,” Fade said stiffly.
“But you’re going in there?” said the Twi’lek—Larr Gith? “We’ll work faster together. I can protect you.”
Tebbith looked less patronizing. “We’re safer in numbers,” he translated.
“They’re not wrong,” Jorgan said. “We’d save a lot of ordnance if Jedi are clearing the way.”
“And everyone knows that per Regulation 14, the Jedi are permitted to take temporary command of Republic units in established war zones. Such as this one, sir.”
“I don’t want command,” said Tebbith.
“I do,” said Larr Gith. “C’mon. Let’s at least get to the resistance rendezvous.”
*
The objective warehouse was buried in Imperials…
Wounded Imperials. Larr studied them. Many clung to weapons, but few were in any shape to walk.
Doc had swerved away from the path to the console they needed. “They’re wounded,” Doc said. “Let me help them.”
Captain Fade aimed.
“An attack on the wounded constitutes a war crime,” Tebbith said. “Hold.”
“Hold,” Larr Gith snapped confirmation. “All right, boys, set your weapons down and line up for medical treatment. Doc, that end, Teb, that end. Nobody war crimes anybody. Fade, watch the entrance.”
“I’ll clear the way to the cantina,” Fade said sourly. “The others must have secured it by now.”
Doc got to work, kneeling by a man who was holding his shin as if afraid it would fly away. “All right, Lieutenant, let’s see about getting you walking.”
Tebbith dutifully went to the other end of the quickly formed line. For warmup he joined his hands before his chest and sank into a warm meditation.
A choking noise stopped him. The Imperial soldier had ripped off his helmet, revealing a lot of youth and a lot of panic. “You’re going to Jedi heal me?” he croaked.
“It’s quite safe,” Tebbith said. “I’m trained in these matters. Don’t be afraid.”
“No. No!”
Doc looked over. His hands didn’t slow in smoothing kolto bandages. “I’ll be right with you, friend. Modern medicine has you covered.”
Larr saw the perturbation on Tebbith’s face and, for once, felt genuine hostility toward the Imps. “Anybody who wants the pain to stop now, raise your hands. Master Teb’ll take care of you.” The soldiers exchanged glances, seemingly torn about revealing weakness. But one man raised a hand, then another. Tebbith cast Larr a grateful look and started working his way toward where Doc had never slowed.
Fade was out. Based on her behavior on the way in, Larr suspected that she was hoping for an Imperial fight. If she had to pick a fight, clearing the path to a facility that served hot food might be acceptable.
The Imperial commander stood up after Doc finished closing the long, bloody scratch on the side of his head. He marched up to Larr and saluted stiffly, Imperial style. “My lord. I don’t think I’d have done as much in your place.”
“It’s ‘Master Jedi,’ and we all know that. I suggest you surrender. I pledge legal treatment. You’re losing this planet, you know that. Don’t die in someone else’s tailspin.”
“Master Jedi,” he said wearily. “That’s what we do.”
“Not today. Not with me. Surrender.”
Just then a speaker outside screamed a high-pitched scream and rumbled into an incredibly loud military march of some sort. The commander’s head snapped up and over. “Bastards…”
“Lieutenant?”
“The Balmorran National Anthem. It hasn’t been heard here in sixteen years. Someone got at the whole PA system.”
Larr looked at Tebbith. Tebbith looked at Larr. They might have smiled. A little bit.
“Lieutenant,” Larr said, “even the streets are against you.”
The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. He looked back at his people, then at Tebbith, then at Larr. “Your troops are still out there, aren’t they? The ones less concerned with interplanetary law. Master Jedi. I formally surrender to you two specifically.”
Larr smiled as brightly as one can while accepting prisoners of war. “Done. Are your people okay?”
“Hernias through hangnails, like they never happened,” Doc said brightly. “We make a pretty good team.”
Tebbith just nodded to Larr. He looked tired, but relieved at the absence of combat.
One of the new prisoners, a blond man who had until recently had blaster burns painting his shoulder and chest, shrugged on his jacket. “Possibly the best day of my career apart from Lieutenant Quinn leaving.” A few of the others chuckled unpleasantly. “All right, sir. I’m with you.”
And Larr started calling in less specialized Republic troops to handle the POWs.
*
Twenty minutes earlier
Fade blew out surveillance cameras as she loped down the echoing streets of Sobrik. There had been sixteen Imperials back there, most still cradling weapons. And the Jedi wanted to patch them up. Madness.
Forex stood outside the high-walled, almost windowless cantina. “Captain!” He started barreling towards her. “The Imperial threat inside the cantina has been neutralized!”
“Very good, Forex. The others are all right?”
“Yes, Captain!” Forex fell in beside her. Without breaking stride, his body swiveled to launch two small rockets at a surveillance rig up the side of a building. “The Jedi are safe? I am programmed to prevent war crimes. I believe the Jedi will act within the laws of armed engagement.”
“If I tell you to kill an Imperial squad, you do it. The Jedi won’t always be there.”
“Of course, sir! Any threat to the Republic will not stand!” And Fade knew Tare’s overrides would make that true.
“Keep watch,” she said. “Holo me if the Jedi come out.”
And she walked into the Sobrik cantina.
The facility was…oppressive. There were gray metal steps down to a gray metal floor with a gray metal prefab bar slanting slightly against the far wall. To Fade’s surprise, it was half full of people. Civilians, staring. Staring not just at Fade.
Jorgan and Dorne sat at a table with two battered mugs between them. Whatever Imps had been here, they were gone, and Jorgan and Dorne looked alert but not distressed. Jorgan and now Fade were the only aliens in the place.
Jorgan and Dorne stood. “Sir,” Dorne said crisply. “I believe the Imperials we scared off were going for reinforcements.”
“They can try,” someone said loudly from another booth. The energy in the room thrummed, but Fade recognized it now. It was good for her side.
“So I noticed some loudspeakers outside,” she yelled. “Who decides what plays there?”
“Command sends all the orders,” the bartender said. He was big, square, stable-looking, but his eyes were small and deep-sunk. “Control’s in back here.”
“What’s your national anthem? Pre-Empire.”
Another thrum. People were whispering.
The bartender guffawed. “Brass testes on this one. If you were to beat the shit out of me and get to the back room with the PA control, I would be in no condition to tell you the Morrinaise is still on hard copy under this very bar.” He raised a datacard with one hand. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“I did beat the shit out of you,” said Fade. “Everyone saw that, right?” There was a rumble of assent. The room almost seemed brighter.
Fade strolled to the bar. “Much obliged, innocent citizen. Kapow. Whammo.”
“Argh,” he suggested, putting a dramatic hand to his forehead.
“Allow me.” She took the datacard and walked behind the bar and into a garishly lit hallway. Maybe it really was supposed to look yellow.
She went to the PA control, slid in the datacard, and selected the source. Then she turned the volume up.
She returned to the dining room. For a moment, it seemed that nobody breathed.
Then a music came on like three brass bands dropping into a hangar badly. Fade watched the room now. The people here, Balmorrans all, listened raptly to the first few bars. Then, some sang. Some cried. One got four shots from a misty-eyed bartender and ceremoniously presented one to each Havoc officer. Fade drank the room’s health with as small a sip as she could get away with.
As the bedlam roared into a second verse, Larr Gith took a slinky pose in the doorway and yelled, “Who did that?”
Everyone in the room pointed to a different person, but none of them to Fade.
“She’s with me,” Fade said loudly. “It’s okay.”
The fingers shifted, to the bartender and Fade.
“A thing of beauty,” Doc said behind Larr. “Sobrik’s falling apart. And every Imp in the city limits knows it.”
Larr beamed at Fade. “See? You’re badass with or without a blaster.”
The back of Fade’s skull prickled. Like this woman had the right to judge her. “The man I want isn’t here. We need to move on.”
“We got the data for the Barrager,” said Larr. “Don’t you want to go present it to our scientists?”
*
“Was this operation funded in pocket change?” Tharan Cedrax was looking around the mountainous crater base, now a control bunker for an Imperial prison, a sore in the Balmorran countryside. “I could have formulated twice as much with—I mean, we should all be vigilant against evil.” He cleared his throat and shot a look at Tebbith.
Larr looked at him. She looked at Holiday, who was leaning over a console. “Do I have to separate you two?”
Holiday looked up, pink lines racing. “It’s just that you gave up the use of the Barrager stop codes.”
“To save hundreds of prisoners,” Larr said.
“Which was the right call,” Fade said. “We’ll figure out the big picture later. I’ve met scientists like you, Cedrax. Killed them. The galaxy’s a better place.”
“The Jedi are not going to condone any killing of anyone in this room,” Tharan said. “Holiday, did we get anything when we deployed the stop code?”
“I’m sure I can re-constitute the Barrager data from the files here.”
“It’s not like we would sell it,” Tharan said loudly to no one. “Though I’m sure your superiors would be interested in what we get.”
Fade scowled. “Hey. Pinky. Put down the superweapon until the prison break’s done.” In a vacuum, the superweapon was absolutely the right call. But the nightmare prison had to be stopped now.
Larr Gith waved toward Fade. “Listen to the nice lady, Holiday.”
Holiday pouted. “But—think of the lives saved, Larr!” And Tharan nodded agreement.
“Not by taking others,” Tebbith said firmly. “Let it be.”
Larr turned on her glare. “If we can go six months without a weapons deal. That’s all I ask.”
“Ah, well.” Tharan sighed dramatically. “It was hardly progress, anyway. They lacked the materials to scale to anything useful.”
“And we are not using their notes.”
“You know, Larr, you’re much more agreeable when—”
“Tharan,” Holiday said stiffly.
“A mere observation, my dear. Come, let’s be elsewhere.”
*
“The cloaking device was developed by us. It belongs to us. We earned it.”
“I need it,” said Larr. “To save your world, and many more.”
The face of the Balmorran resistance scowled. “We’ve heard this before.”
“Please. I can’t tell you why I need it where I need it, when I need it. But you have to trust me. As a Jedi. I care for your world. I want it safe. And I can only assure that by taking this device and using it in the greater battle.”
“I can’t believe you came this far just to spit in our eye a little closer than the others have before.”
“Technicians,” Fade said.
Larr Gith turned to her. “What?”
“What if I could get you the best technicians in the Republic Army? The Hawkeyes, only with the Republic’s resources. On loan. As long as you like. They’ll develop any tech you ask for, as long as it doesn’t destroy planets.” She was pretty sure Tare wouldn’t do that. Unless she asked. “There are strings I can pull. Just let us take that cloak.”
Larr’s pink mouth curled up. “What she said! We won’t abandon you.”
“Tare would die in ecstasy surrounded by the tech you guys have here. I’ll ask Command.”
“And when you get a yes, we’ll release the device.”
Fade stiffened. “I’m on your side.”
Larr Gith waved easily. “No, if I were them, I wouldn’t trust us either. Make your call, Captain. I’ll keep us free of Imps until the negotiation’s done.”
*
Fade got Tanno Vik. And an illegal weapons deal. He cut her in for a portion and, when she objected, said, grinning, “I’m a real stickler for the chain of command.”
The sooner they finished Balmorra the sooner they would be free of Jedi meddling. Fade traveled with the three Jedi—the hot one, the snarky one, and the weird one, she thought, though the tall Zabrak might object to being called hot—and their hangers-on. The grim Twi’lek named Zenith led them through the Balmorran Arms Factory. Fade sent Dorne and Jorgan to clear out as much as they could and tag assets for recovery. Not Tanno Vik recovery, though he did offer.
Zenith raised a fist and Fade stopped, Vik and Forex behind her. The Jedi utility droid rolled silently to the access console. Tebbith, Tharan, and Qyzen stood in a knot. Larr Gith and Kira stayed side by side as if prepared for synchronized swimming. They certainly dressed to leave no illusions about their figures.
Zenith said, “Nobody get in my way.” And he kicked the door open.
Fade’s heart sped up. She wanted to be at that doorway. She wanted to know what was going on. Zenith backed up half a step and raised his sniper rifle. The Jedi piled in as if expecting an open bar.
“You have become tiresome,” a woman said loudly. “Apprentices!”
Tebbith stepped in and aside before he started his Force mojo. Tharan stayed outside entirely, fiddling with a probe. Qyzen Fess and Doc ran in.
“Forex,” she said shortly. “In. Scoop up anybody who isn’t Darth Lachris and keep them occupied.”
By the time Fade got through the doorway, it was clear that Lachris hadn’t been caught flat-footed. She was locked in combat with Larr Gith, bursting riots of purple lightning out of her free hand. The other two Jedi were each taking on angry Sith in ugly uniforms. Forex struggled to keep a line of fire on two different uniformed Sith.
Fade opened fire.
The Sith were just whaling on Forex with their lightsabers. One suddenly shifted to a stab and Forex’s shield sputtered. The other did something with his hand. Fade was confident Forex’s durasteel chassis would be immune to this assault.
But it wasn’t, and Forex floated a sparking meter in the air before the Sith tossed him aside. He spat smoke and gurgled something that might have been an apology.
The best war droid the Republic ever built, neutralized by two guys with glowsticks. Fade redoubled her firing rate and got a barely-dodged faceful of reflected blaster bolts for her trouble. Zenith, firing past her, got one of the Sith who was busy frustrating Fade.
Chaos. Then, a change: “Darth Lachris has ceased resisting!” Tebbith yelled.
Oh. That sounded like incoming mercy. Forex would stop and take prisoners if allowed to carry out his Republic programming.
But Fade knew there was someone here who was a good shot and not inclined to spare people just because they were unconscious.
“Forex!” she yelled. “Lift Lachris!”
Forex lurched up, smoking. His missile launcher hung askew. His eyes flared orange. He stalked across the battleground, hooked one arm into Lachris, and raised her.
Zeniths’ blaster rifle barked. And again. And again. And again. Lachris’s limp body jerked off the tip of Forex’s arm.
And Zenith stowed the rifle. “Much obliged,” he said flatly.
And that was it. A coup d’état. Fade enjoyed memorizing the faces of the dead Sith. They would never hurt Havoc, or anyone, again.
*
It was an afterthought, almost: Larr Gith, having achieved every objective on her list, had to report to Commander Madine.
He peered over the desk where he’d been planted the whole time. “We lost the Barrager plans?”
Larr crossed her arms over her chest. “The plans you definitely wouldn’t use, because destroying one planet to destroy one task force is not an acceptable tradeoff?”
Madine’s jaw clenched. “You know why we had to try.”
“I’ve seen a planet taken from millions of residents to six. I won’t let that happen again, not to any planet, not for any commander. I’m handing you Balmorra, Commander. As intact as I could get it. If that’s not enough you can take it up with the Jedi Council.”
But she let the others scatter to her ships, and she went to the Bugtown cantina. She’d made a promise.
A rainbow of Twi’leks clustered at a table in the corner. One of them noticed Larr and started a cheer that the others took up. Larr came to them and beamed. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. You all look ten times better than in that prison lighting.”
Iain Sarkus, looking just as mischievous as he had when he’d directed her to throw an Imperial base into chaos, now waved around. “Master Jedi. Please let me introduce the Hawkeyes, now with significantly less bondage.” He gave the half-dozen Twi’leks names, which Larr repeated with a hearty round of hand-shaking. “And for you, Master Jedi, we call this Colicoid Hops.” He picked up a tall glass from the table. “The place they brew it might reopen soon.”
Larr sniffed the malty brown liquid. “Smells better than it sounds.” Everyone laughed. “Gentlemen, here’s to Balmorra.”
“To the Republic,” Iain said.
“To the Jedi,” suggested another. Larr grinned and clinked glasses with him before sipping.
They talked about job prospects after the Empire began its evacuation. Larr Gith made the Senate sound way sexier than it actually was. She drew her beer out—it was strong and subtly sweet, very good for a dozen toasts—and then Iain perked up. “It’s almost time. Master Larr, come with me.”
“Huh?” said Larr.
Iain set down his own tall glass and offered his hand. Someone whistled, which earned him a dirty look. Larr put down her drink and let Iain lead her out of the windowless cantina, through a base lit from without by a reddish light.
“Something wrong?” she said, alert. “Imperials wrecking something?”
“No. This comes from destruction, but it’s something good we can take from it.” He led her outdoors. “All this smoke. All this dirt. All these gases. Sunsets have never been this bright.” Around the arm of the hill where Bugtown bunker huddled, the landscape was rough, pierced a hundred times over by those rocky tors.
Beyond them, the sky was a shattered red, streaked by long orange clouds.
“Someday we’ll have the pink kind again,” Iain said quietly. “Maybe burning less of the sky. But if we have to have something for war, let it be dramatic.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” she said. “And you’ve survived to see it. That’s a good day.”
Iain squeezed her hand. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for caring.”
She looked at his forehead, his nose, his nicely shaped mouth. “Shut up and kiss me.”
He didn’t hesitate in leaning toward her. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he breathed against her lips, and then got to the actual kissing.
The evening was warm. The lighting was sanguine. The world stayed still so Larr could focus, and she did.
The voice came from outside. “Larr! Larr?” Iain stiffened and backed up a step. Larr turned to see Doc jogging to a stop.
“Oh,” he said loudly. “I’ll, uh, tell Master Tebbith I didn’t find you.”
“Don’t,” Larr said. Doc by himself would be an interruption out of turn. Teb meant something important was happening. “Iain…this may be my call off planet.”
“I know,” he said. He looked a little scrambled. It was its own kind of praise. “Good luck. Wherever you’re going, don’t forget you have friends here.”
“I’m envisioning a restaurant next time. One without any craters in it.”
His smile turned crooked. “I’ll do my best. So long, Master Larr.”
“Good luck, Iain Sarkus. You’re going to be fine.”
*
“Larr? May I have a word?”
Tebbith noticed the look Doc gave him. Openly appraising, even while the little grin crouched under its sheltering ’stache. Tebbith stood up perfectly straight and did not give Larr the slightest physical consideration before he followed her into the Prodigy Burst’s bridge.
“What is it?” said Larr Gith. Even in poor lighting she seemed to shine. She had come so far. And he sincerely didn’t know what direction would be progress for her. She always seemed to know.
So he didn’t get aggressive. “Things are going okay with Specialist Sarkus?”
“What? Iain? Sure. I’ll stop by the next time I get the chance and make all his coworkers jealous again. I don’t think we’ll be pen pals in the meantime. He’s sweet, but this mission is here, and mine’s out there.”
“Which brings me to my next question. Do you remember what you told me about Tharan when he came on board?”
“What, that he’s ridiculous and not a good companion for a Jedi?”
Tebbith looked at Larr.
Larr looked at Tebbith.
“You saw what just happened, Teb. Doc sold his entire stake in the Balmorran resistance to get the Republic that cloaking device. Because I asked him to. He deserves the chance to find a new place to do what he does. And so far, what he does is risking his neck to help people. That’s exactly the kind of companion a Jedi should have.”
“You see the best in him. Does he…bother you? When he’s trying to bother you?”
Larr dimpled, a phenomenon rarely seen but always good. “I actually think it’s refreshing. He’s up front, you know? I know what he wants from me without the Jedi thing getting in the way. And it could be really good. Maybe the Force is at work. It wouldn’t throw a problem at me in such a neat package.”
Tebbith sorted through possible helpful actions. “Am I supposed to threaten him or something? I will, if you want. I care very much about your happiness.”
“No,” she said soothingly. “Listen to me. You be yourself. Believe in me. Work with me. And if that makes Doc a little nervous, well, that’s not so bad. But, I promise, I will never ask you to act in an un-Jedi way toward or about him.”
“I’ll follow your lead.”
“And so will Doc. Or we drop him off on one of those Outer Rim planets he claims to have saved. That is unambiguously good.”
*
“Zenith? Can we talk?”
“Pretty sure.” It wasn’t a very good joke. At the ramp to the Gnost-Dural, the Twi’leks faced one another. As Larr led him onto the ship and into the conference room, Zenith watched her rather than his step, perfectly calm. She had a feeling he didn’t like her, or maybe didn’t like women. The Twi’lek thing wasn’t gaining her any points.
“Come here.” He did, stopping just a smidgen too far away for comfortable conversation. His hands balled and loosened, as if lost for what to do if they didn’t have a weapon.
“What Tai Cordan did to you was wrong.”
A small, disgusted exhalation. “That’s how it goes. I scratch your back, you stab mine.”
“No. It’s not matter-of-fact. It’s not something we just accept. You were betrayed, and the next time Cordan wants something we’ll make sure it goes into the mix.”
“You don’t negotiate with the Rift Alliance, Jedi.”
“I’m not enmeshed. That doesn’t mean I’m not relevant.” Wait. How had they gotten here? “Look, you’re angry and we’re Jedi. It’s not an ideal assignment. But I want to make one thing clear. If something threatens Teb’s life or happiness, you bring it to me.”
He watched her intently, clearly waiting for her to give up some kind of vulnerability. “What if there’s no time?”
“Bring it to him. Even if you have to talk over him to get the message across. I believe I can trust you to do that. He’s a dreamer, but he’s been known to exercise self-defense when prompted.”
“Didn't think Jedi talked like they were that close to anyone.”
“Yeah, there's going to be a lot of assumption-busting before this is through.” There had to be. Because this man's surface would make Tebbith miserable.
*
Fade stomped alongside Tanno Vik to the Havoc Go Fast. Between the Jedi and her new recruit, she wasn’t sure she could take another ally.
“Jorgan, Dorne, prepare the ship for travel. Forex, check our space combat systems. I might be picking a fight.” Vik gave a noise that might have been a strangled laugh. “Vik. With me.” She marched him right into the briefing room.
And closed the door after him, and stared. Tanno Vik was a Weequay. Large, as sentient bipeds went. Far larger than Fade, who was shorter than the average Rattataki. She had had to reach pretty far to punch his jaw when they first met.
“So this is the ship, Captain.” Vik’s blue eyes roamed the seats, the podium, the console. The ceiling and floor. “Nice ride.”
“I want this clear,” said Fade. “I’m sure you enjoyed using me to carry out an unauthorized mercenary strike and weapons deal, but you’re on my ship now. I would die for you.” Like a skipped track, his eyes were abruptly on her face. “I know for a fact that’s not returned. But I expect your compliance until I’ve earned your loyalty.” That was how this team worked. It was the only way it worked.
“Boss.” Vik set a meaty hand to his chest. “You picked me out of obscurity. I throw my fate in with you, no holds barred.”
“Please don’t be obviously struggling not to laugh on that.”
He obviously struggled not to laugh. “You’re a tough commander, Captain.”
“Just wait until there’s actual work to do.”
*
They had a few days. A few minutes. Ava Jaxo called a gathering—girls only—on Coruscant, and they duly inspected eight consecutive cantinas. Jaxo was brassy and cheerful and responsible with the use of motor vehicles, really everything necessary for the night. Her friends insisted on buying Havoc drinks. Who was Fade to say no?
One night, five girls, eight cantinas, and Jaxo keeping everybody on target between loops of banter. Somewhere, and very suddenly, Fade woke up on a well-loved but clean couch under a soft blanket. She felt like a luxuriantly furry animal had crawled into her mouth and died.
The light was on in Jaxo's living room. She was carrying two glasses, one of water, one of some red and orange mottled...thing.
"For the hangover," she said, setting them both down by the couch. "You are a hoot, sister."
"That good, huh?"
"I think we all had fun." And she grinned and sauntered out.
Minor interesting moral quandry from the Jedi Consular Balmorra arc: when Director Fenn of the Balmorran arms corporations demands that, in order to help, he wants the Jedi to look the other way on their less ethical weapons experiments. Zenith comms you in and advises you to "mention" that you know where his wife and daughter are.
The light side choice is to agree to have the Jedi not interfere in the arms manufacturing. The neutral one also allows it. The dark side one is to casually mention that you know where his family lives.
Nansu-Ral picked the dark side choice. Threatening 2 people - who she doesn't even intend to actually ever harm - outweighs, in her mind, the promise to allow weapons that will harm hundreds if not thousands. Hmmm.
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So I noticed one of the ingredients in Feast of Prosperity kitchen was a Balmorran Vinegar.
I could imagine Balmorran stocking up vinegars before they leave the planet to live offworld as they cannot live without them. kinda like olive oil or sauces.
The delay cost him. One of the attacks got through his defenses, slicing into his left shoulder. The pain blinded him for a moment, and he thought he understood, finally, what nausea meant. The plasma hurt much worse than he thought. He felt his vision failing. So, he shifted to his Force Senses instead. Opening his Third Eye, he could see his battle with clarity again.
What was more, his self-fortification was finally at a level where he could fight back. With a burst of power, he batted aside his enemy’s blade and began an assault of his own. He dove as deep as he could into the Song of his crystal, and channeled its song into the fiercest Juyo he could manage at the moment. He could Sense his opponents’ rage and triumph switch to surprise and caution.
“Malgus! Help me!”
Malgus is here? Vajra put that aside before he could process it. He began slicing away at all the layers of his enemies’ defenses at once. Four of them fell, one Pureblood, a Twi’lek, and two humans. The fifth one was on the back foot, trying desperately to block his blade.
“What are you?!” his enemy demanded.
“The Jedi you couldn’t kill alone, even when he was half-dead. But I’m ready for you now.” The ferocity of his moves began to drive the dust back, finally letting him see his attacker. He almost gasped. “Darth Marr!?”
