Tanya the Jedi

Watching people supplicant before me was a wonderful thing. The bowing and begging to get a scrap of my power and influence. This feeling would be ever present when I got rid of the Republic, killed the Jedi, and installed my glorious Empire.

For now though, there was work to do.

“Arise Count Dooku.” Watching the man’s holographic projection stand on my word filled me with joy. Pleasure knowing he was a loyal puppet in my plans.

“My Master, I have excellent news. I have brought another dozen planets into agreeing to join the separatist movement when the time comes and a Jedi has died trying to investigate the unrest brewing in the outer rim. We are well on our way to having everyone right where we want them.”

“Good. Good. And the talks with the Trade Federation are going well?”

A sour look crossed Dooku’s face. If he is failing me on such a simple task I would need to be... creative with his punishment.

“The Viceroy is going along, but something about him has changed. It has made the discussions... slower.”

“Slower how?” If that sniveling coward is trying to get out from under my thumb because he thinks he found something better, I will just have to eliminate him.

“He takes longer to make decisions and is picking his words more carefully. This delay should be minimal.”

“So long as it does not become a problem.”

—-

Being an aide to a senator necessitated keeping tabs on a large number of information sources. Journals, news programs, articles, even the popular dramas. Information was the fuel that kept the bureaucracy behind the senators running smoothly. It was the lifeblood that kept the senators looking good for the public and kept the masses complacent with the politicians.

Lately, Rudolf Fischer has found that the feed of information he used on behalf of Senator Garm Iblis has been filled with more and more information on the Outer Rim and the issues facing the populace out there. Not a typical concern of the Corellian people, but with the well liked Garm Iblis supporting a movement aiding the enslaved populations the information has become critical in his bid for re-election.

With the increasing destabilization happening in the Outer Rims as the pirates and slavers fight to prevent the Republic’s interference in their business, a new militarization bill has begun to be drafted. A bill being blocked by a sizable ‘Peace’ block that thinks that arming the Republic would only result in wars being fought. A rather idealistic thought.

One Corellia was not in line with. Fischer did the research and found that the sectors with greater militaristic presence had less violence against civilians from pirates and slaves. A result that should be appealing to those not profiting off of piracy and slavery.

A result that can profit Corellia if the amendment to the bill Fischer gave Senator Iblis went through along with the rest of the bill. An amendment that would set Corellia as the primary production site for the new Republic Fleet.

END OF BOOK 1

 

Jedi Trials. Tests of a Padawan’s readiness for the difficulties of being a Jedi Knight. Ancient tests evaluating a Jedi’s Skill, Courage, Flesh, Spirit, and Insight.

After years of training, two Padawan practice against each other as they near readiness to face the tests and join their Masters as peacekeepers in an increasingly uncertain Galaxy.

Padawan Skywalker and Padawan Degurechaff have long pushed each other to new heights in their desire to be the best...

 

Knight Labooda stood to the side of the largest training room in the Temple along with half of the High Council and Knight Kenobi. Among the spectators were Grand Master Yoda, Master of the Order Mace Windu, and Sar Labooda’s sister Depa Billaba.

Masters Plo Koon and Kit Fisto were closer to the center of the large room, using the Force to move obstacles through the air at the sparring pair currently engaging in a midair lightsaber battle.

“Skill, never in doubt. How far they have come and how much we can learn, is now worth pondering,” The small, frog-like figure of Yoda said as he leaned on his gimer stick.

The large dark form of Mace Windu gave a nod of agreement. “Master Billaba, activate the droids. Let’s see if they can keep up this pace while deflecting blaster bolts.”

“I must say, I look forward to what the Council is able to think up for the Trial of Courage,” Knight Kenobi quipped with a smirk on his lips.

“I would say Tanya has already proven her courage and insight,” A frown was on Windu’s stoney face as he started his opinion.

“We are well aware of your opinion on politicians, but some of us see no reason to fear them,” the modulated voice of Plo Koon said through his mask.

“Arranged, a suitable challenge will be,” Yoda said.

“Their ability to pass the Trial of Courage is not our primary concern. When do you believe they would be ready for the Trial of Flesh and the Trial of Spirit?”

Kenobi and Labooda looked towards each other for a moment.

“Anakin is ready to face the Trials...” Obi-Wan Kenobi began speaking before trailing off.

“You have concerns?” Billaba asked, taking a close look at Kenobi‘s bearded face.

“He is ready to face the trials, but I am not as certain he is ready to pass the trials.”

“Train him longer, you wish to do, hmm?” Yoda asked.

“I feel there is still so much for me to teach him.”

“Your desire to see him learn does you well, but at some point you must trust your Padawan is ready to go on their own and continue their education without you,” Mace Windu said as his eyes were locked on the furious match going on above their heads.

“What about you, Sister? Is Tanya ready to face the Trials?” Billaba asked.

“Mentally, yes. I am concerned about her health though,” Labooda admitted. “Her FIP has caused a few issues over these last few years. We knew she was never going to be a particularly tall Jedi because of it, but the hormonal barrage has caused her no end of grief. The human body is not meant to go through all those changes so quickly and at such a young age.”

“When do you believe she will be ready to face the Trials?” The stoney frown on Windu’s face grew deeper as his eyes focused on the fitting figure of a short blonde woman. A girl that should still have baby fat in her cheeks, but who looked closer to a short or malnourished 19-year-old than the 10-year-old preteen she actually was.

“The doctor has been monitoring her hormone levels. Once they level out and we know she has hit a plateau in her body's induced puberty, then I believe she will be ready. I do not want her facing the Trial of Spirit while her head is fogged over from a rather difficult puberty.”

—-

Five long years of training to keep ahead of Tanya. Five years of learning how to use his power to batter Tanya’s tricks to the side and smash through her defenses. Five years and Anakin continues to struggle to stay ahead of the younger, smaller Padawan.

Tanya’s strength was comparatively pitiful. Her lightsaber form a poor match up. Her height, minuscule.

And yet, the only other person able to challenge him in a duel was Master Kenobi and his steady, impenetrably defensive Form III. What Tanya lacked in strength she made up for in speed. What Tanya lacked in her lightsaber form she made up with Force tricks. What Tanya lacked in height, she made up for by taking the battle to the air where Anakin learned long ago being bigger just meant there were more places to hit.

Anakin would show he was the best in front of the Council. He would show them he was ready for the Trials. He just first needed to break through Tanya’s tricks.

There, she is readying to snap. A tell on the next trick. Anakin could feel the grin on his face. Charge in with a feint.

Tanya’s fingers snap.

Danger. Explosion.

Grab the Force and pull it to the side to send a blast of wind clearing the fire away and disrupting the shockwave. Kick her hand out of the way. Plant the tip of his lightsaber to the younger Padawan’s throat.

“...I yield.”

The sour look that briefly appears on Tanya's face as she recognizes she lost once again is sweeter than bantha milk thanks to the effort it took to win each time.

Retracting the blade, Anakin reorients himself to land on the ground and give a respectful bow to his opponent.

“Alright Anakin,” Master Kenobi says. Ignoring how much of an accomplishment it was to defeat Tanya. “Get cleaned up. We have a mission.”

“Yes Master. What is the mission?”

“Bodyguards for a senator.” The smile tells Anakin Obi-Wan was hiding something. There was a trap here. Best way to handle a known trap was to spring it.

Anakin put on a sour expression as he followed his master out of the training room and to the showers. “A senator? How boring.”

“Maybe, but I imagine you will enjoy catching up with this one. She is an old friend of ours.”

An old friend? Anakin was not close to any senators. The closest person to a senator he knew was Chancellor Palpatine. Despite Anakin’s apparent difficulty with people’s genders, there was no confusing Sheev Palpatine for a woman. The thought of it sent a shudder up Anakin’s spine.

“Who is this old friend?”

There was that grin getting bigger. Here is the trap. “How could you forget Padme Amidala?”

“Padme?” Angel? The most beautiful and pure person Anakin ever met. He could never forget her. “I did not know she became a senator.”

“Yes, and we don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Yes Master.”

—-

Nute Gunray was not one that put a lot of stock in religion. Or, rather, Nute Gunray had previously been one not to put a lot of stock in religion. Ever since that little padawan was possessed by a Je’daii spirit and began praising a nameless god Lord, Nute has found it difficult to avoid faith in some immaterial being.

The gold handprint still shimmered on his arm, kept hidden by long sleeves, and it gave advice to the Viceroy. A small spark of pleasure anytime he praised the nameless being and anytime he was doing something it approved of. Over time, with plenty of experiments, Nute found things it wanted him to do. Foolish things like charity and helping the needy.

Yet, it was the results of the business deals, the trade agreements, and benefits given to employees the symbol liked that made Nute begin questioning if charity was such a foolish venture.

Every business venture the handprint liked resulted in greater profits than any of the other ventures Nute had engaged in. Every single one, by significant amounts that were beyond the expected margins of error.

If this was what having faith resulted in, Nute could begin to see the appeal. He just needed to talk to the little padawan again. She must have answers to the questions Nute had about the religion followed by this spirit.

It was proving profitable following it blindly without guidance. It must be even more profitable with guidance.

—-

Padme Amidala, former Queen of Naboo and current Senator, was not pleased. She was on her way to the senate to vote down the ridiculous Military Creation Act. It was a provocative and aggressive waste of resources meant to browbeat the planets threatening separation into staying.

The Republic has been at peace for nearly a millennium without an overpriced fleet of ships draining resources better used directly helping the citizens with relief efforts and increasing food production. Besides, sector defense should be a local government concern, not in the hands of the galactic government where corruption of all sorts can ruin its effectiveness.

After the Naboo crisis, it became clear to Padme that Planetary Defense Forces were the best way for planets to defend themselves from illegal blockades and piracy. To build up a single Grand Army of the Republic as the proposal suggested would take resources away from the individual defense forces.

Padme could not let this be allowed to pass. It would undermine what she stood for, what her people stood for. The power should be spread out to the small local governments and the Republic should be there only to support the local efforts.

Arriving on Coruscant, Padme readied herself to disembark while Corde, Padme’s decoy and a body double, stood at the ready to get off the ship first.

“We have arrived, my Lady. Please wait a moment while I step off first.”

Padme rolled her eyes as she gave a good natured grin. “I know Corde. This is not our first time doing this.”

“As you say my lady.”

Corde and the first part of Padme’s entourage descended the ramp. After a moment, Padme followed.

BOOM!

 

Messy. Oh so messy. Deliciously messy. The chaos. The fire. The death.

Bounty hunters make for such fun assassins. Loud, in the open, and as obvious as possible to spread their name and reputation around.

A pity I need Amidala alive for now if I am going to manipulate my future apprentice into position. This fiery display would have been a very satisfying end to the annoying twit.

Needs must come before pleasure though. That Jedi girl has gained far too much influence over Anakin. Influence that can be replaced with a relationship with a non-Jedi girl who I can eliminate at my convenience. A non-Jedi who already thinks we are on the same side and who Anakin already admires.

There is the boy now. Along with his cockroach of a Master. I keep having Kenobi sent off on missions that should kill him and leave Anakin more vulnerable, but he keeps coming back. Soon though, his luck will run out and he will fall and Anakin will be mine.

Likely they will begin investigating the assassination attempt, only to be foiled by my insurance policy. I will have to keep a close eye on how things progress to ensure events proceed accordingly.

—-

Meetings were an annoyingly common part of business. Typically, meetings involved a lot of talking, arguing over the fine details, and presentations. The Ryloth Revival Venture as it was being called in the media was not typical.

The people involved were a strange lot and the representative from the Trade Federation kept bringing in experts that made the people ever stranger, but Gob’leif was not a Twi’lek to judge.

Gob’leif was the current owner of the only construction company on Ryloth that managed to stay in business for ten generations. The oldest and biggest name in the game on the backwater planet.

It was this long expertise that had afforded her the privilege to explain exactly how much it would cost to build the casino they wanted. The materials, the labor, the hazard pay, and the architectural designs.

Three years of construction later with increasingly generous payments and the casino was almost ready to open. Three years of her workers getting lucrative bonuses for meeting goals. Three years and a new contract at the ready to keep building in the area, regardless of whether or not the buildings get filled.

The one condition being the first building was to be a Temple. Gob’leif asked about that. The Trade Federation’s Viceroy explained that it was for the Jedi who initiated this venture.

That explanation felt flimsy coming from the Neimoidian. The Viceroy might seem calmer and more careful with his words, but Gob’leif knew that the cowardly anger was still there. The slimy looking, noseless bugs were all the same, a bunch of greedy, self serving cretins. Just because this one grew a brain didn’t change anything.

Well, it was time to start the meeting with the Viceroy’s local contact.

—-

Ral’ziti was a strong man. One had to be in order to survive in the wilds of Ryloth. After the experience a few years ago things began to change. His arms were marked by a pair of shimmering gold handprints. One that rewarded him for certain actions with a shot of pleasure. The other punishes with a jolt of pain.

Such things would be too much of a distraction in the wilds, resulting in Ral’ziti retiring from being a guide and huntsman. Now he was Viceroy Nute Gunray’s Personal Assistant for Ryloth. A cover for their real relationship and objective.

The experience years ago with that girl changed the two men. Nute was in denial, but Ral’ziti knew what had happened. A miracle. A divinely bestowed miracle. That was why Nute allowed Ral’ziti to take charge in building a temple to the nameless god that helped them.

And here he was, in a fancy meeting room at the top of a building designed for sin, built on good intentions, looking out to a forest getting clear cut to make room for a city of hope.

The door opened and a short, green figure walked in. Gob’leif was a short woman, barely reaching Ral’ziti’s chest. What Gob’leif lacked in height though, she made up for in curves. In Twi’lek culture, the ideal figure was not that of the slim dancers most species took as slaves. For Twi’leks, beauty was in a wide figure. The figure of someone well fed and able to enjoy an easy life.

To Ral’ziti, Gob’leif was gorgeous. Not only was she wide with generous proportions, but if his eyes did not deceive him, under that soft fat was muscle. She was not just beautiful, but strong and would challenge him.

The prickling coming from his left arm was an annoying reminder that the nameless god did not appear to like such contemplation. Better to get this meeting started.

—-

Gob’leif was not terribly impressed with the contact. A muscle headed fool who clearly thought with his fists if the scars were any indication. And that smug smile told her plenty about where his eyes were located.

Men and their obsession with her long lekku. Some days they were more of a pain than they seemed to be worth. At least wrapping the head tails around her neck kept them out of the way.

Well, if that was the kind of man he was, then Gob’leif knew how to handle him. A firm hand that left no room for back talk.

“You are the contact for the Trade Federation?”

“Yes I am,” his drawl was slow and a clear sign this meeting would take longer than necessary.

“Fine. I got four designs for the temple. Do you have the authority to make the decision or will I have to wait?”

“The Viceroy gave me the freedom to make whatever decisions necessary for the temple.”

Gob’leif was pleased. She could get the designs finalized and begin construction. The sooner her company was able to finish, the sooner they could get paid for the next job.

“The first design is the cheapest. As you can see, it is a one story building with a long central hall and over here are the administration and maintenance offices.”

The holographic design was on a puck Gob’leif pulled out of her bag. The design was very industrial and practical for a temple and was included primarily for the Nemoidian‘s cheapness. If they were doing this to honor a contractual agreement, this would do the job and no more.

“No.”

The quick decision surprised Gob’leif. Normally people looked over the options and compared the budgets before making a decision. Well, it wasn’t her job on the line if the Nemoidian found the price too high.

Placing the rest of the pucks on the table, Gob’leif began to explain the remaining three.

“Show me that one,” the representative said, pointing to one of the pucks.

“Alright. We call this the monastery design. As you can see it is several stories tall. In this main area is a large central hall for ceremonies and prayers or whatever worship the temple will be used for. Above the hall are various rooms that can be fitted out at a later date. Over to the side in this extension is the administrative facilities. In the back we have three dormitories and a greenhouse, each with a small outdoors area separating them. And this large area is to be either a tranquility garden or a small farm to help feed the residents.”

The hologram showed off a hand shaped building. The palm contained a two story main hall with two further stories of rooms not yet given purpose. The thumb was a two story administration wing. Behind the administration wing was a large field of grass that butted up to the index finger, a long greenhouse divided into two sections. There was a strip of grass in between each of the fingers with each of the remaining three being three stories dormitories.

“That one will do well.”

Looking at the intense way the representative was looking at the holographic design and noticing the gold hands on his arms, Gob’leif realized she was being left out of something. Well, as long as her company gets paid accordingly, she would not dig her nose into it.

“Alright. Let’s talk details then. As you can see there are a lot of specifics we still need to pin down...”

The pair of green Twi’leks continued their discussions late into the evening.

—-

The explosion rocked the ship, sending Padme tumbling back hard. She did not know what she hit, but when she came to it was in the arms of a vaguely familiar young man with a padawan braid.

His mouth was moving, but she could only hear a buzzing noise. She tried to speak. The young man looked like he was responding, but to what? What did Padme say?

Oh, he is helping her up. And there goes the world, spinning out of control. The young man was a tree to lean on. Hard, stable, and rooted in place.

Oh look, the floor is rising to say hello to Padme.

The young man stopped the floor. Wait, no, he stopped Padme’s fall and was holding her in his arms.

The ringing in her ears was aggravating Padme’s headache. Were they flying now?

Right, Padme has a concussion. That’s it. It is a hallucination from the concussion that makes it seem like she is flying. At least she has a tree to hold onto.

 

The opening of the resort and casino is going to be a big deal. The first publicly accessible Jedi funded business opened in decades. It was important that myself and Master Labooda as the Jedi representatives presented ourselves appropriately.

To that end, we got new robes for the event. They weren't particularly fancy, as Jedi are supposed to always behave in a humble manner, but our outfits were specifically chosen to be striking within a formal setting.

To complement the olive tones of Master Labooda’s skin and her dark hair, she received a dark brown tunic wrapped in a golden robe and accented in peach colored trim.

For myself, I would have normally preferred to wear darker colors, but with my fair hair and pale complexion we decided I would stand out more in light, nearly white, beige accented in a similar gold to Master Labooda’s robe. It took a lot of debate to decide on a light beige with the deciding factor being that the public has not seen a Jedi in white since the Ruusan Reformation. The public was more used to the earthy tones most Jedi wore with occasional use of black.

Looking in the mirror, I reflected on the one benefit of Force Induced Puberty: I no longer looked like some children's doll. I remained on the skinny side with my cheek bones clearly visible in sharp relief, giving my face a rather angular shape, but the doctor explained I should start filling out soon and looking healthier.

The doctor also informed me that I have finished growing, leaving me at five foot even if I was wearing boots with a thick sole. A bit on the shorter side, but I was happy enough with it. I could at least reach the counter top without a step stool and would not require a booster seat to eat at a regular table. That would just be embarrassing to require such assistance.

With my outfit in order, it was time to handle my hair. Master Labooda was taking time to braid her hair into a complicated bun. I did not have nearly the length required to do a similar style, preferring to keep my hair to a more manageable length. I did not know of much one could do with hair that only reached my jaw line, but I am sure that there were women out there who spent so much time mastering the arts of hair styling they could manage something. For me, I would simply be brushing it out thoroughly to make sure no tangles existed and letting it do what it wanted to do, except for my padawan braid. I would need Master Labooda’s assistance with rebraiding it with the decorative beads we got for the event.

Finally, I looked at the lightsaber. My lightsaber. My weapon and badge of being a Jedi, even if only a Jedi in training currently. The hilt itself was fine. Smooth lines and an emitter shroud that looked so much like a finely crafted fountain pen nib.

The crystal inside was my problem. A rock with magical properties able to produce a blade capable of cutting through flesh and metal with equal ease while making the use of the Force simpler. With the crystal on me, using the Force was like talking into a megaphone to communicate across a crowded room versus the yelling required without it. A small difference in the grand scheme of things, but with it I would be able to go longer without losing my metaphorical voice for a while.

The crystal was also a conduit to a false god. A being claiming to be the Abrahamic deity from the Christian Bible. A load of nonsense considering such a deity is supposedly considered All Powerful, All Knowing, and purely good. If such a being existed, then there would be no strife in the world, thus at least one of those factors must be incorrect. In my dealings with this Being X, it was made clear to me that it was not purely good, instead a petty overworked incompetent who takes his frustration out on others. It was not All Knowing or it would not have needed me to explain to it how humans are self serving individuals who need motivation to accomplish goals. As for All Powerful, if it was then it would not be overworked.

I do not know what Being X might be, but the crystal at the heart of my lightsaber was a direct line to him speaking to me. A direct way he can take over my body. It has been silent for years now and that worries me. I did not get the impression Being X was a patient individual and yet it seems to be biding its time.

I took a deep breath. I took another. A familiar meditative exercise cleared my thoughts, and I clipped the lightsaber to my belt once I was calm. We would likely be asked to hand them over at the door to the casino, but the lightsaber is our life and we were to take it everywhere. Who knew you could legitimately have weapons be part of your religion?

—-

Master Windu believed that politicians were horrible people, and regularly joked to trusted Knights and Masters that dealing with them skillfully should be used for the Trial of Insight. Knight Labooda knew that the often dry delivery hid a true sincerity that if the Padawan in question truly did prove skillful in dealing with politicians, the Council would consider the Trial a pass.

The Trial of Insight was the last trial added to the Jedi Trials. Historically, prior to its inclusion, it was found that those Powerful in the Force, skilled in lightsaber combat, grounded in themselves, and unwavering in the face of fear or injury, could be undone by a simple pickpocket’s sleight of hand or a politician’s honeyed words. The Trial of Insight does not test a Jedi physically, spiritually, or even particularly mentally. It is a very practical trial to measure how much a Padawan is able to pay attention to their surroundings.

After discussing the matter with the Jedi Council, they agreed that the recordings from the opening of the Ryloth Grand Casino and Resort would work as a submission to prove Tanya’s capabilities. So long as Tanya remained professional throughout without any reminders, she would pass the Trial with flying colors.

That would leave three Trials for her to face. Master Windu may joke that willingly facing politicians would also qualify Tanya for the Trial of Courage, but it took having one’s life threatened to truly pass. The events on Ryloth years ago could have qualified, but Labooda and the Council agreed that despite the danger of the situation and courage needed to stay, Tanya receiving assistance from her past life disqualified the situation from being counted on its own. In the following years, the pair had not encountered anything nearly as perilous and it would require Tanya facing a dangerous mission on her own before she passed.

The Trial of Spirit was the first Trial Labooda wished for Tanya to face once her hormones leveled out and she was comfortable with herself. It was also the Trial with the highest failure rate. Some may consider it impressive, considering other Trials could easily result in death, but the Trial of Spirit required one to face themselves: the deepest, darkest parts of one’s being. The things one did not want to admit about themselves to others or themself. Passing this Trial was a sign that the individual was comfortable with who they are and were aware of who they could become.

The last Trial would likely be the easiest once they came to it. The Trial of Flesh had two ways of passing. Loss of limb or scarring from a wound or loss of mentor. In the modern Jedi Order, loss of mentor was normally taken metaphorically as a Padawan leaves behind the mentor to become a Knight of their own. Historically, it was often more literal with the mentor dying. Even now, the literal loss of a mentor occurred occasionally, if relatively rarely.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Labooda looked in the mirror to see she had finished braiding her hair. Looking at herself, Labooda grabs a small tin of wax and applies a small dot to the area between her eyebrows before covering the dot of wax in a red powder. A pottu mark from her cultural home. There were several reasons one might have a pottu mark, it represented the third eye meant to signify seeing into the mystical universe, a sign of marriage, or as a traditional way to enhance beauty. For Labooda, it was a small way to honor the culture she originally came from before becoming a Jedi without casting aside Jedi traditions.

Seeing that the dot was perfectly circular and none of the red dust was clinging to other parts of her forehead, Labooda moved on to help her Padawan braid the thin strip of hair she used to symbolize her status.

—-

Gob’leif was not sure how Ral’ziti managed to talk her into going to the grand opening together, but there was little reason to say no as the two of them were going anyway and neither of them had a different partner to go with.

If Gob’leif was being honest with herself, she did find Ral’ziti cleaned up rather nicely. He was wearing a suit in a core-world style, but he was obviously uncomfortable wearing it. The awkward attempt at impressing her was kinda cute in a way, even as he failed to appear dashing and looked more ridiculous in the get up. A tunic would have fit him much better.

Not that Gob’leif really had much room to throw stones, feeling a bit silly in the dress she wore that showed far too much skin with the deep slits in the front and sides. She would be more comfortable in the simple shirt and coveralls she normally wore with a pair of sturdy boots to work. Instead she had a dress the core worlders loved seeing on Twi’lek women and a pair of shoes mostly strap and heel.

How do people dance in heels? Gob’leif had to keep a hand on Ral’ziti’s arm for the entire party just to stay upright. At least he seemed relieved when she told the scarred man they would not be dancing that night.

The plan was to play a couple of games, have a few drinks, eat a bit of food, and talk to some people. Gob’leif would have to talk to a lot of people as the head of the construction company, but the main one she was interested in was the Jedi behind this place. It would be the first time she met a Jedi and a small voice that sounded like her when she was five was excited to meet one of those mystical heroes.

The music cut out and the announcer came out to begin the festivities.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for coming to this grand opening. Many of you may already know this, but this project is just the first step to creating a new Ryloth. A prosperous Ryloth with a joyful populace that people from across the galaxy come to visit. A beacon of hope. Before we open the games and let you all experience the first night of fun, I would like to present the woman behind this venture, without whom we would not be here to enjoy the events. I present to you all, Jedi Tanya Degurechaff.”

A round of polite applause spread through the crowd as everyone began to crane their necks to get a good look at the mysterious Jedi who supposedly got everything in place for the project. Gob’leif was surprised at the stature of the Jedi. If she was to guess, they were probably the same height. The pure white look was less surprising. Jedi Degurechaff looked like the heroic entity Gob’leif always imagined. A pure clean being comes from on high to aid the weak and defenseless.

“Thank you everyone for joining us. I am happy to see so many here for the beginning of a long term commitment of the Jedi to find new ways we can help people. We started this project to boost the economy of Ryloth to help get the native Twi’lek people out of poverty and if everything goes well here we hope that other organizations will help the Jedi to spread this model across the galaxy. The mission of the Jedi was, is, and shall remain the betterment of the people of the galaxy through any and all means. Enjoy the festivities.”

The applause was more filled with more genuine joy as everyone began spreading out. Gob’leif began pulling her date towards the buffet first. She was hungry and did not want to spend a lot of time here with a growling stomach.

—-

The party seemed to be going well. Everyone was having fun and I was invited to partake in a few low stakes games. People are justifiably afraid that Force users might cheat at games of luck. It would be so easy to do, just a small nudge to get the results I wanted. I would never do such a dishonest thing, but the temptation was there. Instead, I focused on having fun.

It was surprisingly profitable and I ended up winning a few thousand credits worth of chips with nothing to spend them on as the Temple covered my expenses. I copied the actions of a few other players by giving generous tips, but I still ended up leaving the tables with a pocket full of chips.

Heading to cash out I was intercepted by Master Labooda who pulled me aside.

“Keep this comm on you. Something has happened and I am being called away on a rescue mission,” her tone was hushed, appropriate considering the nature of conversation would ruin the festive atmosphere of the party.

“Yes Master. Anything specific you want me to do while you are away?”

“Just be careful. I know you can handle this on your own, but there are a lot of people here that would love to take advantage of you.”

Of course there are a lot of people that would want to take advantage of a Jedi that seemingly has spent her whole life cloistered in a Temple away from the real world. I should be fine. I know how the world works.

“I will be Master.”

With that, Master Labooda gave me a smile and nod before heading out.

I headed towards the tellers to cash out my chips and open an account. A nice subtle touch the Intergalactic Banking Clans added was having a branch open right inside the casino. Allows customers to spend more than they might have meant to while giving the employees a convenient location to handle their finances.

 

Arriving at the landing platform, Anakin and Kenobi were greeted to the sight of a classic Nabooian shuttle. Long sleek design with smooth curves and sharp lines in a shining chrome that reflected the surroundings.

The ramp was already down and the pair got their first look at the delegation-

DANGER!

-before a rocket came screaming down from a cluster of buildings. The pair of Jedi had their lightsabers in hand as they rushed out to get a better look. The delegation was on the ground and while the ship was mostly in one piece, it would not be flying anytime soon.

“Anakin, check for survivors,” Kenobi’s order was swift as he scanned the surroundings, feeling out in the Force for where the rocket came from and if anymore were coming.

Anakin ran to the ship, now off balanced and leaning on a wing, the ramp destroyed and bodies strewn about. Anakin could feel as the life slipped out of those who managed to not instantly die, succumbing to the severity of their wounds.

The lights inside the ship were flickering, cargo strewn about. The first person Anakin came across had a feel in the Force he would recognize anywhere. The Angel that brought the Jedi who freed him from slavery.

She was unconscious, but pulse was steady and her presence in the Force was strong. She would hold for now. As much as Anakin wanted to help her, his rescue training told him to check if there was anyone else alive in worse condition before helping someone that is already stable.

Another familiar Force presence was the next person he came across. Head of Padme’s security detail if Anakin remembered correctly. Pulse steady, Force presence weakened, but steady. Blood on head.

Anakin did not have a medkit on him, so he would have to improvise. Tearing off a sleeve of his robe, Anakin made a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. Moving onto the cockpit, Anakin found the pilot was awake and helping to bandage up a female servant that must have been talking to him when the missile hit.

“How is she doing?” Anakin could feel her presence, strong and steady. Survival likely. Show concern to comfort the victims and put them at ease.

“A bit banged up, nothing too bad. What about everyone else?” The pilot looked to Anakin. The fear and concern was in his voice.

There would be no comfort in a lie, they would find out soon enough. Anakin shook his head. “Dead. We got two other survivors on the ship, but everyone else was caught in the blast outside the ship.”

“Padme?”

“Unconscious, but alive.” Anakin pulled out a small device out of a pocket inside his robes. “Here, this should help you two get off the ship. I’m going to help the others.”

“Thank you Master Jedi.”

—-

Kenobi searched the area with his senses, feeling for where the attack came from as he called in to the Temple about the events and a request for assistance. Already he could hear the sirens of emergency dispatch on its way.

He could see the open window the attack came from, but pursuit would have to wait. Protecting the lives remaining was more important.

Anakin landed behind him, laying down an unconscious figure. “Four alive. Two conscious.”

The copy of the manifest Kenobi read early listed twelve passengers and crew on board. Most of them now lay dead.

“I have backup incoming. Help the rest off the ship and once the backup arrives we will go after the perpetrator.”

“Yes Master.”

Once medical personnel arrived on the scene, Obi-Wan directed them to the first person Anakin helped off the ship and give a recount of events.

“We got a concussion here!” Anakin’s voice calls out, a group of the EMTs rushed over to Padme.

“Take the survivors to the Temple. The Jedi will provide for their care,” Kenobi calls out.

The distance between the landing pad and either the hospital or the Temple was nearly identical, so time would not become an issue. Sending them to the Temple however would provide better care and protection.

“Anakin, we need to track the assassin, the missile came from that window. You go on ahead, I’m going to let the Temple know to be ready for emergency treatment.”

“Yes Master.” Anakin did a running start before flying off as Obi-Wan pulled out a comm.

—-

Anakin’s anger was close to boiling over. How could someone dare to hit an angelic being like Padme? He was going to find the person and destroy them.

Entering through the window left open, Anakin easily spotted the rocket launcher next to the bed. Closing his eyes, Anakin reached out into the Force.

Dark clouds swirling, undulating, obscuring.

Nothing usable there. Looking around, Anakin spotted a shimmering thing on the ground. Picking it up, he saw it was reptilian scales.

Looking at the room and thinking about where he flew to and from, Anakin believed he was in a hotel room. A mid range option that would clean between guests.

Pulling out a portable analyzer Anakin dropped the molting skin in and turned the device on. As it did its thing, he began looking over the rest of the hotel room for other clues. He already knew his target was a reptilian species of some sort, but if he could find an article of clothing he should be able to narrow down to a rough body size and shape.

“And what do we have here?”

Anakin turned to the window at his master’s voice, Kenobi sitting in an airspeeder he had acquired.

“The assassin is a reptilian species, currently molting. I have the skin I found analyzing... analyzed,” Anakin quickly corrected himself as the device beeped its completion picking up the device and looking at the readout, Anakin spat out a curse. “Changeling. They could be looking like anyone right now.”

Kenobi‘s face fell as he realized their trail was already rather cold. “Grab the launcher. We might be able to get something off it back at the Temple.”

—-

Garm Iblis was grateful that the resort and casino opening on Ryloth already had all the amenities opened for the event. The spa would keep his wife busy and out of earshot of anyone important that could be easily offended by her opinions.

Coincidentally, it would also free him up to enjoy the evening by playing a few games of chance and chatting up a particularly lovely blue skinned server. Whoever designed the uniforms did a wonderful job in his humble opinion.

All the female servers walked around in tight white shirts topped with half length black jackets that left their midriffs bare, black skirts that were puffed out by white lace, long leggings that left just a hint of thigh showing between the top of the leggings and the bottom of the skirts, and black, kitten heeled pumps.

A wonderfully decadent wrapping that kept the beautiful Twi’lek women on the appropriate side of decent.

“Sir, I believe we should be leaving soon.”

Unfortunately, Garm had to bring one of his aides along to brief him on the upcoming Military Creation Act vote. Fischer was a good worker. Kept his head down and completed any task assigned efficiently. The man was just such a bore who couldn’t find a good time if he was left tied up in a Zeltros strip club with a bag of credits, a bag of spice, and a dozen women.

“Relax. It would take an emergency session for us to miss the vote and there has not been any recent activity to warrant such actions. Here, take these chips and join the game.”

“I am not sure tha-“

“Have a drink, join the game, and have some damn fun. Consider it an order if you have to.”

“Yes sir.”

Garm might just have to take his aide to Zeltros one of these days to get the man to unwind.

—-

Ziro the Hutt would have enjoyed being a part of the Grand Opening on Ryloth. The sights, the sounds, the fun. The timing of events just did not work out. There were a few... delicate operations he was currently overseeing in the underbelly of Coruscant. Operations that could not be delegated to another.

Nothing illegal. At least, nothing currently illegal. Some recent inquiries were made about a drug not currently on the market, either market. As far as Ziro knew, the drug did not exist and thanks to the way the Republic laws were written the creation of new designer drugs was not illegal so long as certain substances were avoided.

The request came from a mercenary wanting a stimulant and numbing agent. Something that would stop them feeling pain while keeping them wide awake. A combat drug.

There were several combat drugs in the market, but the client was rather clear on what side effects he would find acceptable and which would be unacceptable. The easiest way Ziro’s associates believed they could produce this new combat drug was to suspend several other drugs within a bacta solution.

The importation of large quantities of bacta was perfectly legal in Coruscant. That it was being listed as luggage and not cargo was simply a clerical error.

It was the quantities involved for a one time drop off that personally involved Ziro. He could not allow any to ‘drop off the back’ when his profits in processing it all into a new drug were at stake.

If all goes well and the mercs like it, maybe the Hutts would get fully involved in distribution.

 

Jedi Master Quinlan Vos was anxious. He was a man of action, a Jedi who likes to always be on the move doing whatever he could to help the Galaxy at large. It was only when the stakes were high, his life was on the line, and a goal was in front of him that he truly felt calm.

The Temple on Coruscant was not that. It was a peaceful place of methodical meditation and careful consideration. It was a place that set Quinlan Vas’s teeth on edge and made the tribal marking across his nose itch.

Splashing water on his face, Quinlan took a deep breath to set himself at ease. He knew he had a reputation for impulsive behavior. That despite his rank of Master and the free range in how he handles missions, he was not truly trusted by the council. It was just so difficult to sit still when there was work he could be doing. Actions he could take to make someone’s life better. That was what he and his fellow Jedi were here for and it was something he fully agreed with. The Temple was just a bit too slow to react to the Galaxy for his tastes. Too reactive. Too passive.

Shaking the water droplets off his face, Quinlan grabbed a towel and wiped his face clean before stepping out of his apartment.

“Hello there,” a familiar voice called out, making a grin appear on Quinlan’s face.

“Kenobi, good to see you,” Quinlan said, getting his old friend.

“I am glad to see you are here. Could you help us with a little issue we are facing?”

“Straight to business, same as always,” Quinlan looked Kenobi over and noticed the serious look on Anakin’s face even as Kenobi’s was much warmer. “What can I do for you?”

“We have a rocket launcher used in an assassination attempt. Can you use your psychometry to help us figure out where the suspects might have gone to next?”

Quinlan gave a nod and reached out to the item in question with his hand and the force.

The ability to see the history of an item was a rare gift among Jedi and one that was not looked on favorably by the high council due to the risks involved in its use. The user would feel the echoes in the force from the item including the emotions felt during its use. Weapons in particular were rarely used with the calm and grace a Jedi strived to achieve and maintain at all times and the dark emotions felt in combat by those not sensitive to the force could lead a Jedi down a dark path that was difficult to turn back from.

Despite the risks, the ability gave Quinlan Vos a distinct advantage in tracking people down, so he had practiced the ability to a truly amazing level. Grasping the rocket launcher his mind was thrust into the past and into a different mind.

Calming her mind, she began the process of separating herself from the memory and remembering who he was and that he was watching a memory. Once he was looking through the echo as an outside observer, Quinlan paid partial attention to the events of the assignation attempt, looking for other echoes he could follow along.

Grasping one, he found himself in a multitude of memories, an echo built from repetition. A club frequented after a job was completed where she was known by her human disguise.

Separate self from echo.

Quinlan reestablished who he was and began looking for a name. He knew where to go, but did not know who he was tracking. If only more people were more vain, it would be so much easier to track them down. The more self absorbed people left strong echoes of exactly who they were. Changelings on the other hand were always far more focused on hiding and blending in that their surroundings were what they focused on.

It took far too long to find the name.

“Zam Wesell,” Quinlan Vos said as he came out of the vision. “A Clawdite mercenary. I know where she probably went.”

“Lead the way,” Kenobi said, following his friend out of the Temple.

—-

The Archives were a treasure trove of information so detailed and across such a wide range of topics that even someone with the life span of Grand Master Yoda would have difficulty getting through it all. In the heart of the Archive was a vault that contained the most important and dangerous information. Lists vital for the Jedi Order’s continued functioning, holocrons with dangerous techniques, and Sith information.

Only two people had full access to the Vault’s most dangerous information with the entirety of the High Council needing to agree to give limited access to any other member of the Order.

It was with the full access granted to him as Master of the Order that allowed Mace to scratch his curiosity, to delve deep into the records of the Order to see if he might find who Padawan Degurechaff, or even who he was, in their past lives.

The duties placed upon him kept his dives into the deeper reaches of the archives quicker and less frequent than he might have liked, but he finally located several files that looked promising. In particular was a manifesto written thousands of years ago that bore a lot of similarities to the proposal Degurechaff wrote only a few years ago. The differences though were disturbing.

The manifesto was titled, “The Economic Impact on the Utilization of Enslaved Populations within the Empire and How to Dismantle the Dependency on Slavers by Darth Gental”.

An anti-slavery manifesto written by a Sith of all things.

Mace Windu began to pace the Vault as his grip on the tablet tightened. The Force had not led him to this information. The Force had nothing to provide him in the form of guidance. The Force had been very quiet lately, as though a shroud was being put in place to blind the Jedi.

With a deep breath, Mace released his frustration into the Force and focused on the information at hand. Reading through the manifesto, he saw similar arguments Padawan Degurechaff would have and did make in her proposal, but the methods and tactics proposed had a much darker bend to them. Of brutally killing slavers and using their corpses as examples of what would befall and other slavers that got in the Darth’s way.

The scraps of information not written into the manifesto gave Mace a clear enough idea of what Darth Gental’s life was like. A red headed slave punished in such a way to leave a distinctive chain shaped scar across his face before he somehow clawed his way into the Sith ranks where he eventually went on a crusade against slavers. The Jedi of the time warned not to fully trust him, but that if slavers were involved he could be worked with peacefully enough.

Copying the files to take with him, Mace Windu left the Vault no longer sure he wanted to know what his past life’s self was like. Both he and Padawan Degurechaff had difficulty at a young age dealing with the darker emotions and needing a way to channel the dark side of the Force in a way that was only harmful for enemy combatants. They both had lightsaber crystals that were violet in color. What else did they have in common? Were they both Sith in a previous life?

Mace Windu stopped as the question he was trying to avoid asking crossed his mind. He looked into his reflection on the windowed surface overlooking the Hall of a Thousand Fountains.

He was himself, no matter what a previous life might have been. He had achieved his current position in the Order through his own efforts, overcoming the difficulties in his own way. He would continue to not let a past life dictate his current self or his future actions.

Looking at the tablet with the information on Padawan Degurechaff’s previous life saved, he had to ask himself a different question, ‘Was the allure of long lost techniques causing the council to push one of their younger members into a bad path? Were they leading her astray by having her rewalk down a dark path?’

Master Yoda would have no answers, but, in his long years at the Temple, Mace knew the old master would be able to help find the best path forwards.

—-

“Our attempted assassin came to hide out in a club?” Kenobi asked Quinlan Vos.

“No. She comes here often. They make cocktails just the way she likes them.”

“Let’s go,” Anakin said, starting to head in before being grabbed by his Master.

“Not so fast my young Padawan, we can’t just go barging in.”

“Obi-wan is right. I’m the only one of us who could tell who she is to begin with. I’ll go in and try to make contact.”

“I’ll go around to the back. Anakin, keep an eye on the front. She might try to make a run for it if she realizes that we are here and after her.”

“Yes Master.” With a nod, Anakin took up position across from the entrance to the club, leaning against a wall.

Obi-wan Kenobi went down an alleyway till he spotted the back door of the club. Looking around, he found a nearby ledge that offered an excellent vantage point and jumped up to it. Once he was in position, he quietly whispered his readiness over a comm to Quinlan Vos who entered the club.

The Outlander Club was a nightclub and gambling hall that specialized in clients of ill-repute and the high class clientele that enjoyed getting to know a few unsavory individuals. A place where names did not matter and faces rarely stayed in one place. Heading to the bar, Quinlan stared down the other patrons while he got a drink. A disgusting concoction with no attempt to balance the strong ethanol with any sweetness or acidity. It almost tasted like straight alcohol with a tinge of a swampy green color.

Carrying his drink Quinlan made his way around the club glancing at the games being played and the drugs being sold. Quinlan Vos was at peace. There was a tension as though a fight could break out at any moment. Distrust could be tasted in the air behind the stale sweat and acrid smoke of death sticks.

Spotting the human form of the would be assassin, Quinlan put a swagger in his step and sat across from her.

“Zam Wesell?”

“Who’s askin’?” The glare she gave was formidable. Eight out of ten by Quinlan’s measure, but nothing compared to some of the territorial mothers whose nests he stumbled upon.

Leaning back and sliding a hand under the table, Quinlan opened his robe to show his lightsaber. “A Jedi. Got some-“

Quinlan jerked. A blaster was fired.

“- questions to ask you.” Quinlan was gripping Zam’s blaster under the table, aiming the business end down at the floor.

“I got nothing to say to you,” Zam growled, trying to adjust her aim against the strong grip Quinlan had.

“How about I do the talking for a moment then, Changeling?” Quinlan smirked at the extra heat the term got out of her. “Associates of mine found that you attempted to assassinate a senator. We know you are not an ideologue who would die for the cause. No, you are just some hired gun paid to do the dirty work. You give us the name of who hired you and we let you walk away.”

“I snitch, and I’ll be killed. The one who hired me paid good money and is not the type to let loose lips live.”

“We can help then. Transfer your credits to a new identity, take you to a new place, set you up with a new life.”

“Like the Jedi would do something so underhanded as to help some ‘criminal thug’ like me escape my past.”

“You will find I am not like most Jedi. I don’t stay cooped up in the Temple all day. I know what it takes to get what I need done. If that means a few laws need to be broken, well I’m not one to look too closely at what has been written into the books recently.”

“What kind of place would you take me to?”

“I have some business out in the Tion Cluster. I can drop you off anywhere on the way.”

“No tracker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“And five thousand credits.”

“Done.”

“I tell you after I have the credits and new identity in hand.”

Quinlan Vos let go of the blaster. “If that is all, put your blaster away and I’ll call my associates and let them know we will be leaving peacefully together.”

“You are awfully trusting, Jedi.”

“I show you a bit of trust and let you feel comforted by your blaster, and we can get this done quicker and easier. Like I said earlier, we want your boss, not you. You are not being arrested and you having your blaster will remind you of that as we head to the Temple.”

Zam nodded to herself. “Right. Make your call and let’s go. The stink of this place is starting to get to me.”

With a nod, Quinlan pulled out his comm. “I have located the target. We will be exiting together through the front.”

Two confirmations later, Quinlan and Zam quickly finished their drinks and headed out the front. Zam took three steps before grabbing her neck and collapsing to the ground. Quinlan Vos reacted quickly, slowing her descent to the ground and setting her on her back.

Her pulse was stopped, she was no longer breathing, her face caught in its final moment. She was dead. Moving Zam’s hands, Quinlan found a dart just as Anakin and Obi-wan arrived on the scene.

 

Even unconscious with medical probes in place, Padme was still a shining angel, beautiful and pure in a way Anakin had not seen in another. That someone would dare to hurt someone so bright left Anakin feeling emotions he knew were not the Jedi way. Anger. Hatred. He wanted to find the ones responsible and kill them, but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He was a Jedi, a protector of the Peace. Not some criminal thug.

Anakin could take some solace in the one who pulled the trigger being dead, but the ones who ordered it were still out there somewhere. And Anakin couldn’t do anything about it. Master Kenobi had a possible lead he was following to figure out where they could go next, but Anakin was ordered to keep an eye on Padme. To be a final line of defense.

Like anyone would be foolish enough to attack the temple. Jedi were always coming and going through the halls, always aware of what was going on around them. It was impossible for an assassin to sneak into the temple.

Which left Anakin sitting in a chair, watching a medical monitor that he didn’t understand. The steady beep as lines drew on the screen and numbers in the corner seemed to hover around the same values. The medics had already stopped by and explained Padme should make a full recovery and was being kept in a Force induced sleep to speed the recovery along.

The steady beep was a surprisingly calming sound, even in an uncomfortably clean, white environment. Calming as was the slow, steady rise and fall of Padme’s chest as she dozed. Rise and fall. Beep. Rise and fall. Beep.

Rise.

Fall.

Beep.

A scream of pain jolted Anakin awake.

“Mother,” Anakin whispered as his eyes darted around the room.

It had been years since Anakin was concerned for his mother. She was free. Free and married to a man Anakin could tell would treat her well. Why was he dreaming about his mother now? Why did she sound like she was in pain?

Anakin was breathing hard. Padme was still sleeping peacefully and was safe, but the room felt so small and confining.

Anakin got up and swept out of the room, his feet moving at a steady pace as he got his breathing under control. His stride was purposeful as he headed to the Room of a Thousand fountains. It was one of many peaceful meditation locations within the temple. A massive space full of flora and fauna from across the Galaxy. It was not one Anakin typically preferred to spend time meditating, the various hangers being more enjoyable for him to spend time in, but the heavy, moist air that left Anakin feeling like he was drowning and wide open spaces was what he wanted right now. The comforting heavy air and moisture filling his lungs reminded him he was away from the horrible dust ball of Tatooine. The open spaces calmed his nerves as he tried to piece through what he saw and heard.

His mother looked to be in pain. Like she was being tortured. Jedi didn’t dream, Anakin knew that they were too connected to the Force and that what he saw had to be real. Or would be real. Could be real. Force visions were not limited to the present. Was his mother currently in danger? Could he save her before something awful happened?

“Anakin.”

Anakin turned around to see Obi-Wan strolling over with a contemplative look to his face.

“Master. Do you have a lead?”

“Yes. Kamino.”

“I am not familiar with Kamino,” Anakin admitted.

“I would suspect not,” Obi-Wan said as he motioned Anakin to follow him. “It was not listed in the archives. It is a planet of cloners in the outer rim. The saber dart used is one of their designs.”

Obi-Wan stopped in the middle of an empty hall and turned to Anakin and placed a hand on the Padawan’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Of course Master,” Anakin said, forcing a smile.

Obi-Wan seemed to search Anakin’s face. A feeling of disappointment seemed to emanate from Master Kenobi.

“Good. I am going to Kamino by myself to investigate. I want you nearby. Keep your comms on you.”

Obi-Wan began leading the pair towards the hangars, Anakin following his Master dutifully.

“Nearby, Master?”

“Yes. Perhaps Tatooine. That should place you close enough to me to respond quickly Should I require the backup.”

Anakin managed to avoid stumbling at hearing his home planet’s name being brought up.

“Are you sure Master?”

“I see no issue with you being in a nearby sector unsupervised so long as you keep your comms on you. I believe you are nearly ready to go on missions without me watching your back.”

“You watching my back? Master, have you for-…”

“We do not need to discuss what happened-“

“Are you sure Master, I remember being the one to-“

“Yes yes, anyways, we are here at the hangar.”

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin and looked him in the eyes. “Do try to avoid doing anything reckless. And keep the comms on.”

Anakin had a smirk on his lips. “Of course.”

—-

Anakin’s time on Tatooine was incredibly stressful, boiling his darker emotions over as a village of Tusken Raiders was brutalized and his mother laid to rest.

Kenobi’s trip to Kamino was eye opening as he uncovered an entire secret army that had been constructed for the Republic’s use by the Jedi and to be under Jedi command. A shocking revelation that he proceeded to communicate back to the Temple before calling Anakin and telling his Padawan to meet him at Geonosis, where they were swiftly captured for being bad at stealth.

—-

The Jedi temple was on high alert. Knights and Masters running around, younglings with lessons canceled, Padawans sent to help ready transport ships. In the High Council, Mace Windu was gathered with the other Council members discussing the current emergency situation.

”A decisive stealth strike should end this before it truly begins,” the small and stern Even Piell said. “We take a large group, enter the arena where Kenobi and his Padawan are being held. Once they are brought out, we reveal ourselves, demand their release and the kidnappers face justice for this crime.”

“Agreed,” Saesee Tiin said, nodding his horned head in agreement. “Holding Jedi hostage like this is inexcusable and must be dealt with swiftly.”

“Hmm, sense difficulty, I do,” Yoda said, a troubled look on his face. ”Gather the Clone Army Kenobi discovered, I will. As reinforcement, we will come.”

Mace Windu stood up, effectively ending the meeting, “I will lead the vanguard and take the fastest ship we have along with the Jedi able to fit or can be called on to meet at Geonosis. The rest will go with Master Yoda or meet at Kamino.”

With that, for the first time in a millennium, the Jedi mobilized enmass for war.

—-

As expected of a bank located in a tourist focused area, the barriers to opening an account were very low. Just a few short forms, my deposit of the winnings I had managed to achieve, and a couple of biometric points so that losing or misplacing my bank card would not be an issue the next time I was on Ryloth and required funds. Not that I would likely ever need to touch the account as most of the civilized parts of the Galaxy were willing to treat Jedi as honored guests and the parts that would not would either not accept Republic Credit anyways, or would be amiable to the credits I would be provided for mission expenses.

With a final signature agreeing to terms, my new savings account was opened when my comms unit went off.

“Padawan Degurechaff here,” I said, excusing myself from the office to take the call, moving to a secluded location to have some peace.

“Meet at Kamino you must. Send coordinates we will.”

The call ended there. It must be serious if the Grand Master was calling without any pleasantries. Wasting no time I began moving, spotting a familiar face in the direction I was going, I called out. “Viceroy, a moment please.”

“Ah, the young Jedi. How may I help you?” Viceroy Gunray had a smile on his face as he turned to face me.

“Transportation,” I answered as I came to a stop in front of him. “I just received an emergency call and have to leave this party early. If you could provide a ship and pilot for a trip to a nearby System, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Of course,” the Viceroy said, nodding to an assistant before putting a hand around my shoulder and leading me outside. “While my assistant gets the ship ready, let’s talk.”

“What would you like to discuss?”

Several emotions I could not identify passed over the insectoid face of the Viceroy before he started. “I would like to first thank you once again for saving my life.”

“No need, Viceroy. You have more than shown your thanks in helping get this entire venture off the ground.”

The Viceroy chuckled. “Of course. This venture has already proven itself most profitable. I await to see how this develops further.”

“I am sure the only ones who will be upset will be the slavers as fewer individuals local to the planet will need to sell themselves into such an unfortunate state of being.” A gentle reminder of the reason for the Jedi involvement would not hurt.

The venture was, from the Jedi standpoint, suppose to be a novel method of killing off the slave industry by showing it to not be the most economical way of doing business. Workers are the most productive when properly compensated for their efforts. Slavery gave workers no motivation to perform well other then not dying, which results in resentful workers performing significantly below their potential.

“Of course, of course. Getting the most out of your sentient workforce through compensation. Your theories are showing promising results. The calculations of the benefits to profits have not been finalized yet, but we are seeing greater than a credit return for every credit put in. There are concerns that the rate of return will eventually fall off though.”

“Diminishing returns are to be expected. The goal is not to pay people the maximum amount possible, but the amount to get the maximum effort from them. A fair compensation package that satisfies all the employees’ needs and keeps their morale high so they willingly put in the most effort into their work. Once you find that point, it will be important to maintain the ideal balance point between improved compensation and diminished returns on the investments in your employees.”

“I have spoken to several Jedi in the past, but you are the first to talk like a reasonable person.”

I couldn’t keep an impassive expression on my face, a smile crossing my lips. “That is because we Jedi are taught and trained to be moral examples for people, to the point that some of us lose sight of what normal people are like. Morality is not the most important thing in the day to day life of most people. With that said, it is possible to still be moral in word and deed even while focusing on other important aspects of life and business. It just takes a little extra effort and thought to reap the benefits of a moral existence in an immoral world.”

“Hmm,” Viceroy Gunray grew quiet as we finished the walk to the pad with his transport ship waiting. A fat bug looking ship with a large fin on the back sticking straight up doubling the height of the ship. I’m sure it had some functional purpose, but I did not know much about the various spacecraft on the market.

I was several steps up the gangplank on the rear of the shuttle when I noticed Gunray was not following. “Are you staying for the rest of the opening event?”

“Yes. I have several conversations lined up that I cannot easily skip. Inform the automatic pilot your destination and when you get there just tell it to return.”

“Thank you, sir.”

—-

The trip to Kamino was quiet. Just a gentle hum of the ship’s engines and the soft beep of the automatic pilot system. The ship had a simple luxury to it that did not cross into a tasteless opulence. Thick, comfy seating of some sort of natural fiber material that was incredibly soft and warm dark wooden furnishings. There were electrum fixtures as well, but the amount was not excessively gaudy, just around the lights to accent the space. Wealthy without overcompensation.

“Leaving hyperspace in three… two… one,” the synthesized voice of the automatic pilot rang out of hidden speakers followed by the distinct jerk of coming out of hyperspace. Stepping up to the front of the ship I was greeted to the sight of large wedge shaped ships hanging above a blue orb as a flurry of ships scurrying between the planet’s surface and the massive ships.

As we got closer, an incoming transmission was received.

“Sheathipede-class transport shuttle, state your business,” a voice demanded.

“Jedi Padawan Tanya Degurechaff, here on orders from Grand Master Yoda of the Jedi Council.”

“Copy that. Sending flight path now. You will be met by 601 on platform eight.”

 

The Jedi Order believed one could not truly know something until the student could teach the lesson to another. This was the core principle behind why a Knight could only become a Master after they have trained a Padawan to Knighthood. This principle was applied to padawans teaching younglings, with many guest teachers coming into the classrooms to teach a lesson on any topic the padawan felt appropriate.

While not strictly a requirement to take the Trials to become a Knight, these lessons showed a willingness to pass on knowledge to future generations and tested the padawan’s ability to instruct future generations. Both of which could influence how soon a padawan is allowed to take the Trials.

As I was going to be giving a lesson during the youngling’s Force lessons, I felt it appropriate to give a lesson on how to use the Force in inventive ways. To aid this lesson I brought candles. It was an easy enough request to get fulfilled as many Jedi found meditating in a darkened room with only the flickering light of a flame to accompany them a pleasant way to pass the time.

Arriving at the classroom, I found it was Grand Master Yoda finishing a lesson.

“A special guest, we have. Give a lesson, Padawan Degurechaff will.”

“Thank you Grand Master.” Handing my bag of candles to one of the younglings, I pulled out one of my own and set my own up in front of me as I took a seat.

“Do any of you know the requirements for a fire?” I began my lesson with a simple question. None of the younglings seemed to know as they looked at each other. “There are three requirements to produce fire. Fuel, oxygen, and heat. The air we breathe provides the oxygen, the wax provides the fuel, but how do we get the heat?”

One orange skinned girl raised her hand slowly. A togrutan if I was correct. Nodding to her, I allowed her to speak.

“The Force?”

Her answer was uncertain. She seemed nervous to get the answer wrong.

“That is the way we will be doing it today.” With the flare of a showman, I snap my fingers and ignite the candle in front of me.

“The Force is a flexible method to many powers many non Force users may consider unnatural. Do not let the thought of something being impossible stop you. It may take some clever thinking about how to do it, but with enough creative applications of the Force you can accomplish anything.”

To make my point, I use the Force to concentrate hydrogen and oxygen at approximately equal quantities into a tight ball in the center of the room. With a snap, I create a spark in the ball starting a chain reaction that swiftly uses the hydrogen up in a very clean explosion of blue flames and a loud bang that startled the younglings. The Grand Master also played along and fell backwards from his position watching my lesson.

I then explain the method of igniting the candles and guide the younglings through the process of getting their candles lit. The Togrutan girl was the quickest to catch on and I asked her to help her classmates.

After everyone had a lit candle in front of them, I flew back to my position at the front of the classroom at a leisurely pace.

That garnered even more excited reactions from the class asking how to fly.

“I will leave that for you to figure out on your own. Just think about possible ways and, with supervision, test out your ideas. If you do manage to figure out a way to fly, practice close to the ground. It can be very tiring after a long time.”

“Running after walking, you must,” Yoda agreed with a nod. “Thank for time, we will.”

“ “Thank you Padawan Degurechaff,“ “ the class said in unison as I gave a bow before leaving.

 

6-W-2-601-4-14Inf-C2-3A-Delta stood awaiting the arrival of their new general on Space Platform 9. Delta Squad was a very standard clone squad, comprising eight privates, a corporal who stood as the second in command, and a sergeant commanding the infantry squad. Every member was trained to standard specifications as none had shown any aptitude for a particular specialized role or any talent in leadership beyond what was needed to convey orders to their fellow squadmates. To an outside observer, the ten troopers would appear to be a cluster of perfect soldiers, all standing quietly by as they waited for the Sheathipede-class transport shuttle designated Lapiz Cutter to land and unload the Jedi who would lead them in in the coming conflicts. On the squad’s private channel, it was a different matter.

“Anyone know anything about the Jedi we’ll be following?” Private CT-7756 asked.

“No,” Corporal CT-5864 responded. “There was no briefing on the individual Jedi outside of the current high level leadership of their organization. And each one of them got a specially selected Legion or Battalion.”

“So, no rumors at all?”

“Shut it!” Sergeant CT-3012 suddenly ordered, “They’re here.”

The back of the Lapiz Cutter descended and a small figure stepped down the ramp. Bipedal with two arms, from what could be seen, and wearing a robe adorned with details not found on reference images of the standard Jedi robe. Those details should mark them as a high ranking member of the Order, based on what Sergeant CT-3012 understood of general social norms.

On the other hand, The Jedi Order seemed to have less of a strict command structure compared to the Grand Army of the Republic, so it was possible the markings indicated that their position was somehow outside of the standard chain of command, similar to a pilot or some other form of warrant officer. The coloration of the Jedi’s skin, combined with the light colored fur on the scalp, limited the number of possible species their new superior could be to a small number of near-human to human species. Their diminutive size led to the Sergeant categorizing his new general as most likely being a near-human species.

A good soldier follows orders, regardless of what their CO was. Taking a step forwards, the Sergeant saluted the General, quickly followed by his squad. “Welcome to Kamino, General. We will lead you to the debriefing.”

“I am not a General,” the Jedi stated with a tilt of their head, a serious gaze sweeping across the ten clones present.

“What have you been informed of?” the Sergeant asked. They had been briefedg that some of the Jedi might not be up to date on their new ranks in the GAR, as the situation was currently very flexible.

“Grand Master Yoda told me to come here. Other than that, I have not been informed of anything.”

“Well, General, I cannot say much about the current conflict, but I can answer a few questions as we move to the meeting hall. Starting with that, the Jedi are now Generals of the Grand Army of the Republic.”

“The Republic doesn’t have an army.”

“They do now. The Republic is now at war with a Seperatist movement.”

“What sparked the conflict?”

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you know?”

“I was at a party when I got called and haven’t been told anything yet.”

“Right, well, we haven’t been told much yet either. Just that we were to meet our new General here and lead them to the meeting room.”

“Let’s start there. As far as you know, I am your new general.”

“Correct.”

“And your name is…?“

“Sergeant CT-3012, leader of Delta Squad Platoon 3A, Company-”

“I think that is enough. I am Jedi Padawan Tanya Degurechaff. It is good to meet you and your Delta Squad, Sergeant CT-3012.”

“Padawan? That is like a Jedi cadet, right?”

“Yes. I am still learning. Master Labooda believes I am ready for most of the Trials, we are just waiting for medical clearance.”

The conversation died away as Tanya was escorted to a meeting hall where she was greeted by a tall, gray and spindly alien. One of the native species of the planet, the Kaminoan were the primary sentient species of the planet as well as the cloners who had produced the Army. Tanya had to explain to the Kaminoan representative that, as a Padawan, she was not given purview into any decisions the High Council may have made. That, as she was still in training, she was only focused on preparing for her Trials to become a Jedi Knight.

Tanya was given a crash course in the Army and the Clones as she waited with the Kaminoan for the other Jedi to arrive. Being so much closer to Kamino than the bulk of the Order had ensured that Tanya would be the first to arrive, and had given her some time to ask questions and try to understand the situation she was about to be thrust into.

Jedi Knight Obi-wan Kenobi and his Padawan Anakin Skywalker had been captured by a rogue element that declared independence from the Republic and were set to publicly execute the two Jedi. This rapid escalation had led to Chancellor Palpatine gaining emergency powers, which he had used to institute a new Republic Army. A Grand Army of the Republic, or the GAR, as it was officially titled.

An army of cloned soldiers being led by peacekeepers with no experience running a war of any scale, let alone a galaxy-spanning civil war.

After a brief tour, Tanya was brought to a space pad to be taken to one of the warships in orbit over Kamino. More Jedi were beginning to arrive and someone had decided it would be best to shuffle the Jedi onto the ships for transport to speed up the process of launching the reinforcements.

—

A secret army commissioned by the High Council conveniently ready just in time for a war to be kicked off? Something about this stunk.

There were many aspects of the Jedi Order I disliked; their methods of recruitment and the indoctrination of children into their religion gave me a few cult vibes, the teaching and use of mind control set my nerves on edge as it represented a violation of a person’s sanctity of self no matter how useful of a tool it could be, and their naivety to how the world actually works and is moved by money, not morals.

For every issue I had with the Order, none of them had shown any indications that they were planning anything like this, so violent and so massive. Master Labooda seemed to enjoy ancient history and archeology, not conflict. Master Windu was admittedly hard to read and I had not spent much time with the man, but I had a difficult time seeing him setting up something as wasteful as a war years in advance.

Indeed, nobody I knew in the Order gave me the impression of being a warmonger. Maybe they had kept that side of themselves away from padawans such as myself, but I felt like something else was happening behind the scenes. Whatever it was, though, I could not afford to focus on it right now. I needed to get my head in the game. We were about to go into combat and I did not want to die.

The ship we were going to be transported on was a Venator-Class Star Destroyer. This meant nothing to me as it was a bunch of nonsense words. The clarification that it is a Cruiser-Class of ship was far more helpful. Cruisers are heavily armed and armored multi-purpose warships that are among the largest ships of the line just behind battleships in size. The scale of these ships for galactic combat was frankly hard to wrap one’s head around. The best comparison was to a town or city in terms of population between the crew and transported troops. A ship this size required internal transportation methods to quickly traverse both the verticality and the length of the ship to get to stations.

The ship was so massive that I was thankful to have Delta Squad escorting me again. The room we would be meeting in was a large room with a tactical display in the middle of the room. As the first representative of the Jedi Order on the ship, I needed to set an appropriate impression of the Order as a whole while I waited for the other Jedi to come in. Thankfully there was a very easy way to kill three birds with a single stone. I took position off to one side and set to meditating while keeping myself afloat.

Meditation allowed for my perspective of time to slip while the modest display of power and calm would give the appropriate impression of how the Jedi liked to be viewed. It also allowed me to calm my nerves and organize my thoughts for the coming fight. I prided myself on my ability to think rationally and come to reasonable solutions to problems without letting my emotions get the best of me. I was not too proud to admit I was scared, as any reasonable person would be in going into an active battlefield, but that was no excuse for letting that fear control you.

So I sat in the air, clones passing through the room and slowly being joined by other Jedi who joined me in meditating until we were all gathered together.

—

Master Jedi Tiplar, a yellow skinned Mikkian with a blue tattoo on her forehead, entered the meeting room along with her sister, Tiplee. Tiplee had shorter tendrils in her head with a matching blue tattoo on her forehead, a matching mark from a shared moment of youthful rebelliousness, and red skin. The pair noticed a small blonde with a Padawan braid mediating in mid air against a wall. An impressive feat for a learner.

“That is Labooda’s Padawan?” Tiplee asked her sister.

“I believe so. Looks like she has done a good job training her Padawan.”

The twins moved to a separate wall and watched the other Jedi arrive in the meeting room along with clone troopers passing by or through the room until Grandmaster Yoda arrived.

“Much to discuss, we have,” Grandmaster Yoda began, taking a central position in the room. Tiplar joined the Jedi in forming a loose circle around the display in the middle of the room. To have the Grandmaster arrive with two other Council Members showed how serious this was. Tiplar was a little excited she might get a chance to see Master Yoda in action, as he had been a mentor for everyone in the Order for hundreds of years while rarely going on missions himself.

“Yes,” Master Adi Gallia said. “As you all may have heard by now, the Republic is at war with a collection of planets calling themselves the Confederation of Independent Systems. They have captured two of our own and are threatening to kill them as part of their opening salvo. In addition, we have strong reasons to believe that all the leaders of this separatist movement are concentrated on Geonosis. Master Windu will lead a strike force to rescue the captured Jedi. We will help with the cleanup and ensure the capture of the separatist leadership to bring this war to a swift end.”

A snort was heard and all heads turned towards one of the shorter Jedi in the room. The Padawan that had arrived first.

“Thoughts to share, you have?” Grand Master Yoda asked with a grin. “Listen to them, we will.”

The Padawan bowed, her concern clear on both her face and in the Force. “My apologies, Master Yoda. It is just that I find the thought that we could end a civil war so quickly to be foolish.”

“And what makes you think you know so much?” Master Pong Krell asked from his position off to the side, where the large Jedi stood with his four arms crossed.

“Military history, she reads,” Master Yoda said with a grin. “Study this, she has.”

Master Yoda knew the specific reading interests of a singular Padawan? Was that the reason she had been invited into the mission? Tiplar would have thought it was because Sar Labooda was here and her Padawan was with her. Looking around, Tiplar noticed Labooda was not in the room at all.

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” the Padawan said before turning to Pong Krell. “As Master Yoda said, I have a bit of a hobby of reading historical documents about various military engagements. One thing that is easy to find occurring repeatedly is the hubris of generals early on in engagements predicting quick easy victories. A campaign here and be home by Life Day. A small war there, be victorious in six months. Put down a rebellion there in a week or two tops. And every time, they are proven wrong as the war ends up dragging on for years. To think we could, after a thousand years of relative peace, be able to contain and end a war in a single strike is idealistically optimistic at best.”

The Padawan was confident in her assessment of historical fact and seemed assured that the pattern would continue.

“And how long would you say this war would go on for?” Master Oppo Rancisis of the High Council asked while stroking his large and wild white beard with his taloned fingers.

“People do not remember how bad war can be. They do not remember the lives that will be lost. That combined with this being a civil war with individuals who likely feel this is the only recourse they have left to address their grievances, I would say five years is optimistic. Ten to fifteen is what I would be preparing for and planning around.”

Tiplar felt the wave of shock pass through the Jedi at the pronouncement from the calm Padawan giving this saddening news in such a blunt manner. Curiously, the clones did not feel shocked, but seemed to have an air of agreement wafting off of them.

Master Yoda’s ears were down and he gave a soft nod as he acknowledged the point. “True your words are, I fear. Other thoughts, you have?”

“I know it is too last minute for us to get armor for the coming battle, but it might be a good idea for us to get a few practice shots with blasters now so we are not fumbling around with them on the battlefield.”

Pong Krell snorted. “You want us to give up our lightsabers for some blasters? Give up tradition?”

Krell was right. The traditional weapon of the Jedi was the lightsaber. It has been used since antiquity. So long have the Jedi used the lightsabers that it was hard to say whether the Jedi picked up the lightsaber before or after the Order was founded.

The Padawan felt annoyed and took a deep breath before turning to the Grandmaster. “Master Yoda, permission to speak freely?”

Yoda’s ears perked up and a smile that looked far too mischievous came to his face. “Speak freely, you may.”

Tiplar knew that look. She knew that look and felt a shudder of fear go down her spine. Grandmaster Yoda was a great Jedi, no doubt about that. Wise, powerful, and a leader that was able to show the Order how to be the best they could be.

Grandmaster Yoda was also someone you had to be careful around as his methods could prove embarrassing. Tiplar could easily imagine a young Yoda having been a prankster, a little trickster that raised all kinds of trouble for the Order before his wisdom mellowed him out. Him giving that look and permission to speak freely meant someone was about to have a very bad day, and a Tiplar had a sinking feeling it was not going to be the Padawan.

Instead of addressing Krell, the Padawan turned to one of the clones that was standing in the room. “Soldier. What is the effective range of the blaster you have strapped to your back?”

Tiplar tried to figure out the relevance of the question. What did blaster range have to do with not using the lightsabers?

“Effective out to three hundred meters, sir. Optimal range is within one hundred. Capable out to even greater distances with rapid losses in effectiveness.”

The Padawan turned back to Pong Krell and put on a falsely sweet voice. “And what is the range of your lightsaber? Because my range is about to the tip of my blade. Oh, about a meter, meter and a half maybe. I haven’t measured lately, but it certainly seems a bit on the short side.”

Tiplar still wasn’t seeing the point. The Jedi have been using lightsabers in combat against blasters for millennia.

“What does that have to do with tossing our tradition away?”

The Padawan ignored Master Krell’s question and turned to the clone trooper again. “How quickly can you switch targets after taking one down?”

The clone held up his hands as though miming shooting different Jedi. His aim passed over Tiplar and arrived at Tiplee where he paused briefly and mimed taking a shot before moving on. “Half a sec, I believe.”

“And what about you getting into range, Master? How quickly can you run three hundred meters to get in close enough to hit something over the head with your lightsaber? For me I could probably do it in about a minute if I was focused only on running. Which if we say it takes someone with a blaster a full second to aim and shoot at an enemy, would be about sixty enemy combatants we could have shot in the time it takes to get in close enough to smack them over the head.”

Pong Krell folded his arms and glared at Tanya.

The Padawan took on a pose of her hip cocked to the side and head tilted, like a curious young civilian girl, finger tapping her chin and a mocking smile on her lips. “Oh my, I seem to have ignored your question. Well, if this ship was to have engine issues, would you try to fix it with your lightsaber due to it being the traditional tool of the Jedi? Or would you get a spanner or something designed specifically to help fix the engine?”

Tiplar could see where this was going now, and it was a good point, but the Padawn didn’t leave the point hanging.

She stood up and dropped the act, putting on a more serious demeanor with a frightening ease. The ability to change the way she talked and acted could prove useful in infiltration missions, even with the way she wore her emotions on her sleeve, broadcasting them out into the Force and on her face. “The lightsaber is a tool. A badge of our status as Jedi and an effective weapon in close combat. It can be used for many things, but it can’t do everything. And in some situations another tool would be more effective. If we are going to be going into a warzone, I would feel a lot better with a blaster in my hands and my body behind cover rather than running recklessly towards the enemy positions in order to maybe hit something with my lightsaber. I am not asking you to give up your lightsaber, but I am suggesting we all would do well to take a blaster with us.”

Tiplar reached to where her own lightsaber hung at her hip and thought about what the Padawan had to say. She had relied on it so often in so many situations, but had she become too reliant on it? Of course a Padawan would be the one to not be as closely tied to how many uses the lightsaber has and see the value in other objects with similar purposes.

“Hmm, point made,” Master Yoda said.

“Yes. A point very well made,” Master Rancisis agreed. “I believe it would be best if we all had the appropriate tools.” He looked to one of the clones. “Would you kindly arrange for some blasters to be set aside for us Jedi?”

“Sir!” The clone saluted and left the room, followed by two other clones.

“I don’t like this,” Master Pong Krell said, grumpy over the Padawan’s voice being taken so seriously.

“Liking something is not important,” Tiplar said, feeling the comforting presence of her sister next to her. “The Padawan is correct that having blasters on us would be beneficial. The right tool for the job.”

The Jedi in the room were not happy with the idea of having to use such uncivilized and cruel weapons, but a majority of them were accepting of it.

“Tell me, Padawan Degurechaff, are there any other insightful observations you would like to share?” Master Rancisis asked, adjusting himself on his snake-like tail to better look at the Padawan.

Padawan Degurechaff looked uncertain as she looked around the room before pausing as she looked at one of the clones. “Perhaps we should ask the clones if they have anything they wish to share? Any thoughts or observations they may have.”

“What could a clone tell us?” Pong Krell asked, being very dismissive of the idea.

“They have been trained for this. They have been taught specifically how to fight and strategize for the coming battle. I can give you some historical examples, but I do not know where to begin in figuring out what is important for a battle. They would.”

Krell huffed, but did not deny Padawan Degurechaff’s assertions.

“A good observation,” Master Rancisis observed before motioning to all the clones. “Please, if any of you clones have anything to say, please step forwards.”

One of the clones with a large shoulder and yellow markings on his armor stepped forwards. “Sir!” After being acknowledged, the clone activated the tactical display. “I believe it would be good to go over the planet we will be fighting on and the likely areas the fighting will be taking place.”

The meeting continued with what was known about Geonosis being gone over thoroughly. The clone would explain aspects of the planet and questions would be asked. Tiplar felt she learned a lot about how to plan a battle during the meeting and left knowing that there was a lot to learn from these clones she was about to lead.

—

The rifle I was handed felt very large in my hands. Despite my interest in military history in both this and my last life, I never held a real gun in my hands. I had done a bit of airsoft for fun, but from what the guys from the JSDF said, real guns were significantly heavier than what I was used to using. I couldn’t say how the blaster rifle I held compared to the firearms in my last life, but it was significantly heavier than the airsoft guns.

With some Jedi help, the clones set up both a firing range and a small obstacle course for us to practice with blasters in one of the hangers. There were four triggers, switches, or knobs on the blaster as standard. An on/off switch, a safety switch that kept the trigger from being able to be pulled, the trigger that actually fired the shots, and a regulator that adjusted the power of the shots. Testing the rifle, I found the kick of the plasma bolts screaming out of the blaster to be very manageable, hardly any worse than I remember the airsoft guns being. Going through the obstacle course, I found the Force gave useful nudges for my aim, instinctively adjusting my shots to better hit the targets setup around the course.

Indeed the worst shots among the Jedi were just off the bullseyes of the targets while the clones had shots on target, but more spread across the surface of the targets. The difference was incredibly clear between having the ability to access the Force and not.

“Arriving in the Geonosian System in ten minutes,” a voice said over the intercom system. A flurry of movement began as the obstacle course was broken down, the crates moved back into place and strapped down quickly with the help of the Force before everyone moved into position.

“General Degurechaff! Over here.” I heard a clone calling me. Hurrying I got into the transport ship with my blaster over my shoulder. The side doors closed and I was left alone in a dimly lit ship with the blank faces of the troopers.

“Alright men, I hope you are ready,” I said as I felt the ship come out of hyperspace. “Because things are about to get very bumpy.”

 

My nerves were stretched tighter than the strings of a guitar as I stood in silence among trained soldiers heading into an active combat zone. It won’t be my first taste of combat, but fighting a bunch of animals was going to be very different from combat with intelligent and entrenched enemy forces.

I was fiddling with the blaster in my hands. I needed something to take my mind off my concerns and turned to one of the clones. “Do you like having a number for a name?” Was the first thing that came tumbling out of my mouth. Internally I cringed as it was such a stupid question.

“General?”

“It’s just, I know that there are cultures that do similar things and many people don’t really give their name much thought, but I was just wondering if you actually liked it. I’m so sorry if this question seems stupid to you, but please answer me if you can.”

“I had not given it too much thought, General Degurechaff, but I think I would like a real name.”

The other clones began voicing their agreements in liking the idea of having names.

“Ok, we got a bit before landfall,” I said, happy for the distraction. With a hand placed on the first clone’s arm, I gave a suggestion. “How about Revan for you? They were a Jedi in the distant past who was instrumental in ending one of the Great Sith Wars.”

The clone puffed up his chest. “Thank you sir!” I could hear the pride in his voice.

I stepped over to my second in command on the ship and held out my hand for him to shake. “Oda was a visionary, a Warlord of a fractured nation that stitched the nation together into a unified front.”

“I will wear the name with pride,” Oda said, grasping my hand firmly.

I ducked into the cockpit and placed a hand on the pilot’s shoulder. “The Red Baron was a legendary pilot from the earliest recorded days of flight, using a bright red fighter to invite enemies to dare and fight him. I’m counting on you, Baron, to land us safely.”

“I won’t let you down,” Baron said, adjusting his grip.

From where I stood at the front of the ship, looking at my men, the clones who were going to be following me into battle and do whatever I told them, I could see those without names leaning forwards slightly in anticipation for their own names,

“I won’t be able to name you all, so you’ll have to help each other and those on the other transports with getting names, but I will try to give as many names as I can.”

With that, animated discussions broke out as wild suggestions were made, questions were asked of me for possible name sources and I racked my brain for relevant military figures I’ve read about in both of my lives.

All too quickly though, we hit the atmosphere and all of our attentions were diverted to watching through the windows as Baron nimbly maneuvered the craft closer to the landing sight.

My forces were part of the first wave heading to site Sigma Three where an entrance to the underground hive was believed to be located. As we had adjusted the plans from an attempted decapitation strike into something beneficial in the long term, gaining control of the droid factories and cutting off supply lines to the front was a high priority. I would be leading an offensive to gain a foothold underground and establish our own supply lines with a buffer zone to launch further assaults from.

The surface of the planet was primarily wasteland and served no real tactical or strategic value in holding as all of Geonosis' population and manufacturing sectors were underground in complicated and interconnecting tunnel systems. The best comparison I had to such a situation was urban combat, but there were few accounts I’ve personally read on the subject and most mentions I’ve read made it clear that urban combat was horrible for not well explained reasons.

With our transport ship touching down and the hatches opening, we scrambled off and grabbed equipment to begin setting up a perimeter to the temporary surface command center.

“I want trenches dug along that line and on either side of that cave entrance,” I ordered, directing the clones. I did not know if this was going to be the best approach, but if we were planning on an extended campaign with static command centers, it made sense to me to set up static defenses. Trenches were possibly a bit out of date as far as defensive measures were concerned with a mobile enemy, but they would at least give any guards cover from incoming fire.

“Larry! Set up those monitors over there. We want fewer lines of sight on the technicians using them.”

“Sir!”

About half the clones were working on setting up the tents, equipment, and supply station while the other half were guarding the parameters to both the wide open desert that covered most of the planet and to the cave network. There were a couple of squads dispatched to scout out the rocky outcropping we landed near to check for other entrances underground and any noticeable features to keep an eye out for.

It was while I was setting up a radio tower that several more transporters arrived, this time carrying Masters Tiplar and Tiplee. I was not too familiar with them personally, but was aware of them and their reported expertise within the Force. Getting the tower in position, I let the clones take over getting the cables hooked up and everything hooked into place as I went to the Jedi Masters.

“Hello Masters,” I said as I approached before bowing to the pair. “My apologies if I am a bit curt, but I wish to get straight to the point. We have begun setting up the local Command Post. There have been no hostiles here yet, but we suspect that will change quickly once we begin establishing a foothold below ground.”

Master Tiplar gave me a smile while her fellow Mikkian looked around. “It would appear you have done an excellent job.”

Master Tiplee nodded in agreement. “We will take over up here while you go underground to establish that foothold as you called it.”

I bowed at the instructions. “Before I head out, why is Master Labooda not here?”

The two Masters looked at each other for a moment with a look crossing their faces. “That is a discussion for later,” Master Tiplee said. “For now, padawan, establish that foothold.”

I bowed one more time and took the blaster off my back where it had been sitting as we were setting up the outpost and settled it into one hand. I marched over to where Oda stood nearby.

“Ready?” I asked, my nerves returning as I thought about what we may face in the darkness below the surface.

“Yes sir,” Oda said with a nod before motioning to the other clones who gathered up around me.

With a swallow, I looked at the blank helmets of the men around me before nodding. “Right. Our goal is to establish a beachhead below ground. So I don’t want any of you trying to route the enemy. We go in, get a foothold, and steadily push out. Do not push our supply lines, got it?”

“Sir, yes sir!” The troops said in unison while saluting me.

I was shocked at the sudden change in temperature just a few steps into the cave system. The surface had been hot, but not unbearably so, but the coolness of the shaded cave caused goosebumps to form and shiver to travel through me. A few steps further, I pulled out my lightsaber and ignited it to allow the purple glow to light our way.

Deep shadows in the rocks outlined in purple greeted us as we made our way in. As the only one able to actively deflect incoming blaster fire, I was at the front of the squad and staying close to the wall. The nice, sturdy rock wall of the tunnels that would not have enemies coming from that direction so I could focus my attention on the shadows. The deep, dark shadows that could be hiding anything.

—

Obi-Wan’s mind was racing as he rushed to the transport ship with the clones that had been assigned to him. Grand Master Yoda had arrived to pull him and Anakin out of the arena they had been put into after their capture while investigating who was behind the assassination attempt on Senator Amidalla. Now he was holding a blaster rifle against his objections and being flown towards the frontlines.

“Master, is it really ok for the Jedi to be using blasters?” Anakin asked as he looked over the blaster in his own hands.

Obi-Wan signed. “We will have to discuss that later.” ‘After I talk with Master Yoda,’ He thought to himself, concern and his own confusion whirring away in his mind.

Arriving at the designated landing zone, the two Jedi and their complement of clone troopers jumped down and took a look across the field to where Separatist Ships were attempting to take off while under fire and an army of droids accompanied by droid tanks were approaching in organized files. Trenches were being dug by Clone Troopers along the edges of the landing zone as other troopers set up in the trenches, bracing their guns along the hastily dug walls.

“Generals,” a trooper said, snapping off a salute at the two Jedi after coming from a partially buried tent. “The command outpost is this way.”

With nothing better to do, the Jedi followed the trooper into the tent where a pair of clones with large shoulder pauldrons and their helmets on the table they stood around quickly gave the entering Jedi salutes.

“Welcome Generals,” the one with a yellow pauldron said before indicating the map on the table. “We were just discussing plans to push back the initial wave of resistance.”

“What is going on?” Obi-Wan asked, going close to the map along with Anakin.

“You were at the Arena, correct?” The Clone asked, getting a nod in response. “We are at war sir and the plans for this opening battle is to establish footholds over this planet and capture the local droid factories to deprive the enemy of resources.”

“What about Dooku? He is getting away,” Anakin asked, leaning in.

“That has been discussed already. The chances of capturing him and the other separatist leaders was deemed to have a low probability of ending the war while costing far more in manpower and resources than simply depriving the enemy of this planet.”

Kenobi gritted his teeth before nodding. He didn’t like the idea of just letting Dooku get away, but he also was lacking a lot of information to make a better decision.

Anakin slammed his hands on the table. “So we’re just letting them get away?”

“Anakin,” Kenobi started to say, before being interrupted by a Clone Trooper.

“We have resources in place to attempt to shoot down any ship attempting to escape our blockade of the planet, but there is a high likelihood that a few of the leaders on this planet may escape.”

Obi-Wan rose to interject, for maybe a Jedi could help with that matter, but was cut off again by a clone, a different one this time, “Sir, we have been informed that few among the Jedi have experience or knowledge of large scale conflicts and have been given freedom to advise any Jedi in such matters. The current projections of how this war will play out based upon the current galactopolitical situation indicates that on a purely tactical level, this is a war of attrition.”

Anakin opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could get his chance, another trooper spoke up, “Both sides will be throwing their resources against the other for years and the first to run out will be the one to lose. On a strategic level, this is a Public Relations War. We need our generals to do everything they can to win as much of the public, especially the public of enemy planets, to our side. If we have to enact rationing due to wasted resources, the public may think we are starting to lose and turn against us.”

Anakin frowned as he looked at the map, his hands balling up into fists as he took a moment to focus. “Where do you need me?”

—-

“Left!” I yelled as I slammed my lightsaber onto the rifle and used the force to weld it into place, the dual wielding proving awkward after a brief exchange with Geonosians my troops and I stumbled upon.

Larry, named after the main character of the first Star Wars movie, was dead. His corpse left behind as we retreated down a separate path. As far as I knew, the first casualty of the war.

I was using the instincts the Force provided me to direct which way we were going. I had no better ideas and the tug was the only thing I had to go off of. Without thought, I spun the rifle in my grip and deflected one of the blaster bolts coming at us before quickly firing off a pair of bolts to join the reflected bolt, all three finding homes in the bug men we were fighting. As the only one capable of putting up a defense, I was acting as the rearguard as we moved through the tunnels with enemy forces giving chase.

“Down!” I didn’t know why I yelled that until after firing off another group of shots I turned and saw the Clone Troopers dripping down a hole in the ground. Turning around, I deflected the enemy fire as best as I could. The thought of asking for more power crossed my mind. If I asked, I could avoid another Larry. I could deflect all the enemy fire and take them out.

All it would take is losing control of myself.

No! We were not that desperate yet.

I was the last to get down the hole, using the Force to adjust my fall to join the troops in circling the landing under the hole and soften my landing significantly.

We rained fire upon the enemy as they attempted to fly down the hole and overwhelm us.

It took minutes? Seconds? Hours? For the flow of enemies to stop and a moment to gather our breath as the adrenaline began to wane.

“Status report: call out if you are still alive,” Oda called out after a moment.

Looking around as the troopers verified who was alive, I saw only Larry was dead and that our run through the tunnels had gotten dirt and scratches on what had been pristine armor not long ago. The shine of their armor in the purple light of my lightsaber’s glow had died down.

“Just Larry,” I said as a hush came to us for a moment. Looking around, I saw several directions we could go. “This way.” I pointed down one of the tunnels.

“Sir, if I may, why that path?” Oda asked, not questioning the actual decision, but simply wanting to know the reason for my decision.

“We need to keep moving and the Force is nudging me to go that way.” Looking around at the men with me, I laid it out rather simply for them. “I don’t know what we’ll find going this way, I don’t know what we will have to face, and I don’t know if trusting my instincts with the Force is the best idea, but it is either we keep going, hoping the Force doesn’t lead us astray, or we attempt to find our way back.”

Oda nodded before turning to the other clones. “You heard her men, be prepared for anything. Things are about to get interesting.”

I was terrified as I began to lead the way forwards, taking care to keep my eyes moving to take in as much of the tunnels we were traveling through as possible. I wanted to go back to the outpost. I wanted to not have to fight. I may have been an adult man in my last life, but I am not too proud to admit that despite my interest in military history and various war games, both first person shooters and strategy, I would not have done well in the military. I would have done everything I could to avoid combat, especially in a modern military where they don’t go about executing soldiers for cowardice.

I likely wouldn’t get court-martialed for cowardice if I did run away, but the troopers under me likely would not be so lucky. I was responsible for them and abandoning them would either result in them dying in battle without me there to help deflect bolts or them being court-martialed and executed in my place if they did follow me, if they were even lucky enough to get a trial.

As we moved through the tunnels, we came across a few lone droids or Geonosian guards that we were thankfully able to take out before they could call for backup. Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a large cavern filled with machinery building droids on industrial assembly lines, buckets of molten metal moving through the factory on thick cables.

“So, that is what it is,” I said softly.

“Sir?” Oda questioned, breaking me out of my reverie.

Turning to the men, dirtier and more scuffed, but thankfully still all alive, I gave a soft smile. “We need to find the command center and take control of this droid factory. Once command is taken over, contact headquarters and inform them. If you can, get the droids to be on our side, otherwise, just shut the manufacturing down. As an absolute last resort, destroy the factory and retreat. If we can, we want to turn the enemy resources to our side, but denying them resources is the priority.”

“‘Sir!’” The clones acknowledged my orders with salutes.

“Oda, you will lead one group. Revan, the second group. I will lead the third. We will split up to cover more ground. Stay safe, please.”

Oda and Revan nodded with salutes before breaking off with clones following them. I briefly looked at the four that were with me and nodded. “This way. Stick close.”

We moved our way through the factory, realizing that despite all the droids being produced, the building was empty of actual workers or guards. It was an entirely automated factory with no safety precautions to be seen for anyone that did need to come to the factory. No guardrails to prevent falls, no covers on the machines to prevent loose clothing or body parts getting caught up in the gears or other mechanical parts of the factory machines, and nothing blocking sight of the powerful lasers being used to cut out parts from large slabs of metal.

I would need to remember to suggest adding such safety precautions and guards to the factory to prevent the exact thing we were currently doing from happening to us. Indeed, I voiced my thoughts to the men currently with me and ordered them to keep their eyes peeled for any other suggestions once we had full control over the factory.

“Keep a lookout, I’m going to get a better look around,” I tell the clones with me before floating up to get a high up lay of the factory. The factory was massive with multiple layers of belts traveling throughout in a dizzying fashion, the loud crashing of the machines working drowning out any other noise. I could only hope once we found the control center for the factory that there would be accompanied diagrams for our forces to make use of.

Landing back with the troopers I had, I looked around again to regain my bearings on the ground.

“Which way?” Canderous asked.

I shook my head. “Don’t know. The Force brought us here to the factory, but it is currently silent.”

“Should we stick to the walls then?” Satele suggested.

Nodding my head, we moved towards the wall. “Where would they put the command center?” I asked as we moved.

“Up? That way they can easily look out over the factory,” Satele said after a moment.

Looking up at the underside of the belts and tracks, I gave it a moment of thought. “Best place to start,” I said with a shrug as we moved along the wall trying to find a way up.

It was several minutes before I stopped and slapped my forehead.

“General?”

“If you could fly, where would you put the stairs?” I asked.

It took a moment before it clicked for the troopers before I heard them groan together.

“We don’t have jet packs,” one complained.

“Get in contact with the other squads, let them know I am heading up on my own and you will be rendezvousing with them. Do a sweep of the area and attempt to establish communications with the command post.”

“‘Sir!’” The troopers saluted me and began following my orders without complaint. I bit my lip hoping these were the right orders to give, but was assured by them not complaining, especially as I had already established with them they were to freely offer advice whenever they felt it necessary.

Not letting the doubt get to me, I began flying up again, looking for something on the ceiling. Breaking past the highest conveyor belts, I was greeted by an alarm going off and the sight of several Geonosians beginning to fly out of what I had to assume was the control room.

“Shit!”

I had been spotted and was being fired upon. I quickly dodged to the side and leveled my blaster at the enemy while attempting to create an illusion of myself. Three had come out to greet me and I could see a fourth attempting to join them. I fired a shot at the last one while backing off. I had to deal with the Geonosians harrying me before I could get into the room. I grit my teeth and roll out of the way of the incoming fire before diving under a belt carrying some sort of droid parts, my illusion copying my movements.

Out of sight for a moment, no time to think, I flew close to the belt before splitting off from my illusion, both of us taking opposite sides of the belt to resurface, turning around to see the native bug people on the hunt for me. I crush the trigger of the blaster, firing off shots, letting the Force guide my aim. I barely confirmed that I had downed the bug before flying off to the side, out of the way of the returning fire.

I weave through the incoming fire as I move even further away from the control room. Scanning I spot large crucibles and dive down to hide behind one, pressing myself against the far side of it. I take a moment to catch my breath as I follow along with the crucible until it stops at some sort of filling station. I fly up to behind the flow of liquid, feeling the heat of the red hot liquid metal radiating off the flow. I shove my hand forwards and blast the flow at where I had last seen the bug. I got a glimpse of the bug that had followed me along with the one that had followed my illusion flying back. In the brief moment the flow was out of the way I sniped out the one farther away before racing towards the closer one, slamming my lightsaber into its chest.

The chittering gurgle falls away along with the body after I turn off my lightsaber.

Looking around, I am alone. My heart is pounding. I grit my teeth to hold in the scream I want to yell and fly back towards the control room. I lightly landed next to the body of the Geonosian that never made it out of the room, its head was gone. There was still one here, chittering on about something. Slowly I lift my blaster and take aim before softly pulling on the trigger. I drop my arms, barely keeping hold of the blaster. Slowly I moved towards where the last geonsian’s body still sat and pushed it out of the way.

I look out the window and can’t see past my own reflection. Pupils dilated, hair an utter mess, my robes were dirty and there were tears in it as the material was not meant for such rough treatment as an active battle in a warzone. It was meant for the roughness of diplomacy and maybe the dance floor.

I was shaken out of my daze as my comms went off.

“I have taken command of the control room,” I reported, missing what my troopers said while shaking myself into focusing on my task of turning off the factory until we could get our own technicians in here to make any needed adjustments.