KeiransFuturismFantasy

The Force Wills - Chapter 139

The Crucible was underway on the return journey to the Utegetu Nebula.

The hyperspace navigation in the other direction was just as tricky, but now having actual experience under my belt made me feel much better about my ability to guide us back to common hyperspace lanes.

Satisfied that all was well, I left the small bridge and met the adepts in what was the central domain of Professor Huyang’s existence aboard the ship - the lightsaber workshop.

It was localized in what would’ve been the ordnance storage bay for this class of ship; therefore it had plenty space, integral storage for enough components and materials to make hundreds of lightsabers. All of it had been fabricated and machined by the ancient droid, who would take out the Crucible every few decades to gather interesting and rare materials. Many times Jedi would also donate materials they happen to encounter on their missions and travels throughout the galaxy.

The door to the workshop opened and I was met with the sight of Petro using a dull orange training saber to absorb blaster bolts against a single remote, whilst the other adepts just watched with varying degrees of either boredom, grudging respect or interest. He was even wearing the training helmet to keep him from relying on the crutch of his normal vision.

It was both so cute and endearing to watch, along with a heavy dose of nostalgia that it left me feeling annoyed with myself.

Petro was twirling the blade around his body, light on his feet and blocking each rapid stun shot with ease. It all looked impressive for his age and experience level, however, the training saber did not have deflection capabilities. If that had been the case, he’d already have half the room on the floor and unconscious.

He advanced on the remote with a rapid left and right block, before smoothly transitioning into a sideways round-the-body slash that caught the remote on the side.

It registered the hit and deactivated itself, falling to the floor.

“I call that move, the Whirlwind of Destiny,” he declared, deactivating his training saber, picking up the inactive remote and only then lifting up the helmet.

“Show off,” muttered Zatt, rolling his eyes, even if he couldn’t help but respect the skill Petro showed.

“A Level 5 remote at your age and skill is quite good, Petro,” I acknowledged. “However, please put that away as we’re about to begin your first lightsaber construction lesson with Professor Huyang.”

The room burst with energy and excitement as the architect droid walked silently into view from behind a solid shelf on the far side of the workshop.

“He was there the entire time,” muttered Petro sheepishly.

“Correct, Adept Petro, you can be thankful you had the responsibility to set your remote properly. This workshop is my domain and I’ll not have it wrecked. A fact you all will do well to remember when you begin building your lightsabers. Understand that a lightsaber power cell contains a large amount of energy in a very small package, any mistake in construction and we will be scraping your ashes off the floor.”

He stepped behind the main counter that separated the shelving from the open workshop space.

“Now, please place your crystals on the counter.”

All six complied with slight reluctance, given what they had to go through to get them.

“Hmmmm,” Huyang muttered as he bent down, his monocle eye sensor activating and staring at each tiny kyber crystal in turn.

“Can you actually tell anything about them from a scan?” Ganodi asked skeptically.

“Oh yes, I’ve been doing this for long enough, young one that I can tell you a great deal. However, each crystal is as unique as the Jedi who found them and I’ll not infringe on your privacy. I have knowledge and records of almost every lightsaber ever made and the Jedi who fashioned them. I have inferred much and learned from it.” He tapped a button behind his desk and a vast holo sprang to life showing dozens of lightsabers in many styles and configurations.

“Whoah,” said Zatt with an awed excitement as he regarded the large holo, a sentiment echoed by the rest.

“So which will you choose, a simple grip, a curved approach, one inlaid with the bone of a cartusion whale, bastillion ore or black och? Well?”

He stared at each adept expectantly, but their bewildered expressions showed they were coming up completely blank now that the moment was actually here. Sure they had seen or read about many lightsabers from history, but what would actually be uniquely theirs?

“From the Battles of Rashfond, to the Peacekeeping of Parliock, to our very own Clone Wars, the lightsaber is the Jedi’s ally. But how do they work? Yes, you have brought me kyber crystals,” he gestured grandly to the small things laid on the table. “But they’re all useless unless you give them life and purpose. Do you know how to awaken the Force within the crystal?”

Ganodi was rather startled by being put on the spot, quickly shaking her head.

“No? Well, then you better listen and learn carefully, young ones. Let’s begin with Gungi. Come forward young wookiee, hold out your dominant hand.”

Gungi grinned eagerly and held out his hairy left hand.

Huyang cradled the hand in his mechanical palms. “Rare your kind is to the Jedi, you are unique and your lightsaber will reflect that. Think carefully and describe what you see your saber to be.”

“A great blade that-”

“No, not what you imagine, but what you feel in your hand, concentrate.” Gungi closed his eyes, embracing the Force. “What would make you feel strong in battle and humble in retreat? What connects with your Force?”

“I feel… wood…” 

“Ah yes, of course. Wood. So silly of me not to make that connection immediately, given your people’s relationship with the woods of Kashyyyk and the wroshyr tree. Not a common material in a lightsaber. Unfortunately, wroshyr wood, despite being something I’ve seen you wookiees make starships out of, becomes quite unworkable when you reduce it to something as small as a lightsaber hilt. No, only the brylark tree will do, strong as durasteel and won’t be brittle when fashioned into a cylinder.”

Huyang ventured into the rows of shelving, pulling out cabinets and even used the extra two arms attached to his back to increase his efficiency, all the while muttering and putting on a rather good show for the adepts. He certainly knew how to keep the easily bored minds of young sentients busy after millenia of practice.

“Let me see, yes, yes, oh no, that won’t do. Ah, I wondered where I put that. No, that’s not mine. Ah ha, yes, this will do.”

He pulled out a large rack and walked forward with it. Inside, perfectly organized and separate in custom foam slots were a dizzying variety of components; from belt rings, handgrip attachments, power insulators, a variety of molded diatum energy cells, crystal mounts, energy chambers, energy channels, field energizers, modulation circuitry, emitter shrouds, magnetic stabilizers and crucially for Gungi, a cylindrical length of brylark wood half a meter long.

“Wow,” Zatt gazed in awe at the collection.

Huyang's four arms blurred with machine speed and precision as he put together the basic structure of a lightsaber from the components.

The adepts watched with amazement as a lightsaber was built within less than eight seconds and was held up before them.

“It is my job, that before you leave this ship, you will have everything you need to build your lightsabers, the knowledge and skill of how to do it. You don’t know the future. You might need to build another from scratch or repair your own and you can’t expect to be able to always call on my help.”

He tapped his console again and a basic holo diagram of a lightsaber floated in the air.

“Now, make use of your memory training from the Academy and commit this holo to the deepest parts of your mind.”

The adepts nodded and I saw a half-dozen faces narrowing their eyes and gaze into the schematic. Zatt especially drank it in, his hand lifting and pointing to each part, going through some mnemonic ritual for himself.

“Right, now it will remain up for further reference, find yourself a spot in the workshop and just like I did with young Gungi, feel in the Force for the blade that will be in your hand.”

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It was a little known fact that this was also the moment when adepts were given what could be considered the first lesson in Mechu-deru.

As they didn’t build a lightsaber using their hands, but with the Force itself through manipulation of telekinesis on each component, marrying the parts together into a cohesive whole that achieved an individualized expression - a blending of Force and technology. On some occasions this even occurred subconsciously on a molecular level through the will of the Force.

It took a few hours, with me having to help Petro the most to get a proper instinct for his lightsaber that wasn’t rooted in dreams of glorious imagination, but soon enough all six were seated with the twenty basic components of a lightsaber in front of them.

“All right, now this is important, don’t hesitate to call on me if you feel a part is not working for you, at which point we'll swap it out for a part that does call to you,” Huyang instructed.    

Katooni was the first to actually begin, her parts hovering in front of her face under the sole direction of her will and the Force.

I walked carefully around each adept, open to their luminescent spirits and how the Force was flowing around them. “Remember, to keep the diagram in mind as well, the Force will not do all the work for you.”

It took hours but by the time we broke for lunch, all of them had managed to begin assembly attempts through the Force.

With the subject on everyone’s minds, it was Katooni who managed the courage to ask the obvious question as we ate together in the small mess area.

“Padawan, how did you manage building your lightsabers? You have three, so how does that work?”

“Well, the third is not exactly a secret, but it is a cultural artifact that came to me during the time I became a Mandalorian.” Telling them it was in a fight to the death for the soul and future of the Mandalorian people was not exactly something for their age. “More relevant to your question, dual blades generally come to those who find a twin or entangled kyber crystal during their Gathering. Imagine a larger crystal than yours, but which has two distinct masses and can be pulled apart or put together again at will.”

“That seems to be rare in the Order,” Petro commented, quickly taking a long gulp of water afterward.

“Those who are destined for such crystals, will generally already know by the time of their Gathering.”

“Because of their experience in the lightsaber arts classes?” Ganodi asked.

“Precisely,” I nodded. “You naturally begin with a single blade, but through practice, the development of your personal forms and through the Force, you will quickly feel something is missing or incomplete. It didn’t take me more than a month of lightsaber classes in the academy before Master Drallig stuffed a shoto training blade in my left hand as well.”

Every adept shuddered at the table.

So Battlemaster Cin Drallig continued his march of terror through the young generations of Jedi, I thought with personal amusement.   

“Can- Can we see the blade, Padawan?” Petro asked nervously, his voice cracking.

I debated with myself for a moment, then decided to acquiesce to the request. The unknown was fearful and it was conquered with knowledge.

My hand emerged from behind my back with the Darksaber.

A quick casual levitation had it floating in the air above the lunch table.

“Whoah,” said Zatt and Petro in awe. 

With a twitch of will, the hilt pointed up and the black and mostly white blade burst into life with its unique chirping energetic sound and rhythmic high hum.

“It’s quite thin? Almost like an actual physical blade. Why?” Byph asked.

“It was created during a tumultuous age, just after the Ruusan Reformation. The original owner needed a blade that could easily slip through the thin gaps and joints in Mandalorian beskar armor, which is one of a few materials that can resist the lightsaber blade. The other material is cortosis, which can actually cause a lightsaber to short circuit when it comes into contact with it.”

“I didn’t think there was anything that could stop a lightsaber, besides an actual shield,” Petro mumbled unhappily.

“Now you learn differently,” I grabbed the Darksaber and promptly let the blade bounce off the solid vambrace of my beskar’gam. It only sparked and left a mild glow behind. “This is why the Mandalorians were so particularly effective in actually fighting against the Jedi in the past. We were old and ancient enemies. Tarre Vizsla, the creator of this blade, was the first to bring a bridge of understanding between us. I continue in that tradition so that peace can continue in the present and into the future. Now, finish up your food, we have a long afternoon session ahead of us.”

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I had to take a break later that day due to a hyperspace course correction and returned to the workshop.

The adepts were beginning to make some headway now, managing to assemble partial sections of their blade hilts. Huyang would always swoop down as it happened, scan and pronounce whether it was good or if they needed to start over.

“What’s the rush, Petro?” Zatt asked with annoyance, as his own concentration was interrupted, resulting in a small rainfall of parts clattering onto the desk.

Petro with a mild grin held out a fully assembled lightsaber hilt. He flipped it over and held it in a standard Shii-Cho two handed grip. Then promptly went into the advanced Soresu ‘finger point’ stance that was one of Obi-Wan’s preferred openers. Naturally, it didn’t even come close to the perfection and mastery that the Jedi Master had.

“With this lightsaber, I’m going to challenge Obi-Wan Kenobi to a duel and kill Durge.”

I’d give Petro this, at least he hadn’t foolishly lit the blade yet, even if his head was in the clouds. Ganodi and Katooni giggled at the young human’s ridiculous antics.

Huyang was right there a moment later, almost invading Petro’s personal space and held out his hand expectantly.

Petro winced and gave up his newly constructed lightsaber hilt for scrutiny.

The architect droid scanned it, before partially pulling aside the hilt shroud to reveal the crystal energy chamber inside.

“The only person you are going to kill with that, my young friend, is yourself. You have inverted the emitter, which will cause the power to be channeled right back into the diatum cell. Light this and all that will be left of you and your lightsaber, will be your crystal. Start again and please follow the diagram.”

Petro stubbornly made a few pretend swings before putting the hilt down and making a clawing gesture to begin disassembly through TK.

My attention was drawn to Ganodi, whose components began hovering closer and closer together, then began interlacing, connecting but abruptly spilled out of control and fell to the table she was working on.

“Urgh,” she lightly slammed her fists and rested her head on the surface in mild despair and frustration.

“Easy Ganodi,” I patted her on the shoulder encouragingly. “Focus, concentration, the design you feel and know must be your touchstone, the only thing you see in the eye of your mind.”

She nodded and began again, just as Katooni also made another attempt.

A few seconds later both girls had completed hilts hovering in front of them.

“Yes! I did it,” Ganodi cheered.

“Let’s see then,” Huyang walked over and did his inspection. A few scans and partial exposure of the hilt shroud later and both adepts waited with baited breath. “Hmmm, both will light a blade but it's one thing to do so, it's another for it to be reliable. Ganodi, the wires of your power adjuster are too close to the field energizers here. If your blade stays lit for more than a minute the ambient heat will melt them. Katooni, you’ve included a blade length adjuster in your design, and the modulation circuits are in contact with the base of the main emitter. Similar problem. Luckily, both are simple fixes that don’t require you to start from scratch. Correct both to my satisfaction and we can light your blades for the first time.”

It didn’t take long and soon enough both adepts were standing in an open space in the room, well away from anyone.

They were staring at their hilts, in personalized Shii-Cho forms and seemingly very hesitant.

“Well, we don’t have all day, light the blades,” Huyang ordered impatiently.

Two snap-hisses filled the room and with no surprise really, both were the green blades of those destined to be consular Jedi.

Gungi roared and thumped his chest, happy for his friends, whilst Petro and Zatt were slightly grumpy at not being the first. Byph chittered from both his mouths with ithorian approval.

“Well done,” I lightly clapped in appreciation.

“Hold your blades in place,” Huyang carefully stepped closer, scanning each active hilt. “Hmmm, adequate so far. Now test your blade length, Katooni.”

The adept kept her stance and used her thumb to work the small knob.

The green blade bloomed up to the equivalent of what I would call a Zweihander length of 1.4 meters.

“Any particular reason you feel you need this?”

“I just feel and know, with the amount of enemy droids we could face in the future…” she trailed off uncomfortably.

“Just make sure there’s no friendlies close by when you do that,” I said pointedly.

“Of course, Padawan.”

“I can also begin teaching you the beginnings of the lightsaber form that goes with such a long blade.” It wasn’t my cup of tea as it was very limiting in close quarters on board a ship, restricting you to lunges, thrusts and making blaster deflection a pain in the ass.

“Wizard, thank you,” she said brightly.

“You can switch off your blades,” Huyang pronounced with a prim nod. “Congratulations, you have both built your lightsabers. May they serve you well.”

“Yes!” the girls chorused with clenched fists as the blades hissed off.

“Now you both will make sure they are set to training mode and show me,” I said sternly. Ganodi and Katooni nervously stepped closer and held out the hilts for me. “Good, you can clip them to your belts. You are dismissed to the mess for a small break and afterwards can go to the classroom to resume your history studies. I will sense if you play around with your sabers, don’t. Understood?”

“Yes, Padawan.”

“Off you go and let me help your classmates.”

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An hour later, Zatt would be the next to get a properly functional saber constructed, producing the blue blade of the Guardian and close on his heels was Byph with another blue lightsaber.

Petro and Gungi ended up being the last ones to manage.

Though the reason the young wookiee took long was simply because of the difficulty in machining the brylark wood, which meant he also had to learn using Huyang’s fabricator and use the Force to guide his hands for the finer details.

It was a big hilt that could’ve easily fit a second emitter for the double bladed saber staff, but this was simply Gungi’s hand size. The wood also had rather impressively done reliefs of what looked like a line of wookiees holding bowcasters in defiance against an enemy that was only represented as an ugly looking star.

“What gave you inspiration for this? If you don’t mind me asking Gungi,” I carefully levitated the big hilt in front of me.

“It was strange, as I was using the fabricator, I just… saw this, and knew it had to be on my blade,” he looked quite baffled and his beady eyes showed a slight fear.

“Well, another reason for your blade to be the green of consular, you’ve just had your first vision in the Force of a possible future.”

“What? You mean Gungi can tell the future now?” Petro asked in amazement, with a slight hint of envy.

I gave a level gaze to everyone in our cargo hold classroom. “All Jedi have the ability to varying degrees, Petro. What Gungi experienced is what I call a ‘snapshot’ of the future. It has no context and merely posits what may happen. Any attempt to take action in averting it, may result in only hastening exactly what was seen. Gungi, if you experience any more visions to that extent, you may come to me at any time or place to talk about it, unless you feel that the Force is compelling you to act immediately on the Vision or you can’t contact me. That can also happen. Find the closest master of the Council of First Knowledge, and they should be able to guide you as well.”

He was slightly overwhelmed but gave an affirmative rumble in Shyrriwook.

“Good, now that you have your lightsabers, I’m going to teach you the next primary technique associated with it. You are going to learn to Bond with the kyber crystal itself. We do this so we will always know where our lightsabers are and even what is happening around them. Who can tell me why we learn this?”

Everyone looked nervously at each other for a moment before Byph raised his hand, “So we will never lose it.”

“Basically correct. No one is perfect and circumstances in battle or on missions may cause you to drop it, it could be damaged, it may be stolen whilst you are in a dense crowded street. I can go on and on. With this technique and mastery of it, you will never face a situation where you have to completely rebuild a lightsaber unless it was utterly pulverized. Even then, the kyber crystal, which is practically indestructible unless you drop it into the heart of a fusion reactor, will still be there and you can retrieve it. Distance will not matter either - the blade could be across the galaxy from you and you’ll still be able to sense it.”

“Wow!” “Wizard!” “That is so-” “I know!”

“Silence please. To begin with, I want you to hold the blades in both your hands and open yourself fully to the Force, then begin narrowing your focus until you can sense the energy of your kyber crystal…”

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I sat at the helm station of the Crucible staring into the ever shifting tunnel of hyperspace and sat with a dilemma.

Reversion to normal space was minutes away and the pirate ambush I had known and foreseen was about to catch up with us.

They were waiting for us right at the nebula’s only hyperpoint which would reconnect us back to the common hyperlanes of the galaxy. There would be no going through them without a fight. 

The Utegetu Nebula itself was a dense stellar nursery that spanned nearly four hundred lightyears and we could use it to play a game of cat and mouse. In the meantime, sending out a distress call to Anakin or Obi-Wan via the Force. The problem was it would take Anakin four days to reach us and Obi-Wan even longer, given their current positions.

Would the pirates have the patience to engage in such a long game? It seemed they would and even call in reinforcements to help with the hunt. Prescience became very unreliable at that point with the chaotic nebula conditions influencing how well we could hide and in turn how well the pirates could scan for us. 

What about just going in a random direction, get outside the nebula and forge a new hyperspace route straight to the Namadii Corridor with my brand new hyperspace navigation skills?

No, too many unknowns and variables, the Crucible was not a ship that was made to forge such paths. If I made the slightest mistake and stranded us in the unknown, we would need Anakin who could use the Bond to home in on me and a dedicated Jedi Navigator to come rescue us. There was even a chance I could get us stranded behind a cyclical astro-phenomenon, which would effectively prevent even a specialist Navigator from being able to reach us.

“Frakking shabla,” I muttered in annoyance as I explored the other path.

The march of the timer on the hyperdrive ticked down inexorably.

Drop out of hyper a few seconds early?

It would surprise the pirates and leave them badly out of position, forcing them to immediately chase us into the nebula, but the Crucible had no weapons, making such a maneuver pointless. I was practically the only weapon on board that was of use in this fight. Could I Force Sleep the whole pirate ship?

If I was at least within a few thousand kilometers, but the menagerie of species that made up pirate crews meant that I could maybe get a fair percentage of them. However, the reaction of those who remained would mean, in their fear they could just decide to cut their losses and destroy the Crucible outright.

Unacceptable.

“Hard way it is then.”

I pulled back on the hyperdrive motivator and engaged the shields immediately.

Might as well make them work for it.

The Crucible burst back into real space within just forty kilometers of a waiting and very familiar looking saucer shaped, Corona-class armed frigate.

Hondo Ohnaka.

They didn’t bother with opening communications and demanding surrender, instead immediately opening fire with a barrage from the blaster cannons mounted all along the perimeter of the saucer.

The Crucible shuddered under the blow, the shields shrugging it off at considerable cost to its integrity. 

I secured the ship’s systems and controls, locking down the hyperdrive with an access code.

“This is Padawan Tano, to all adepts, we are under attack by pirates. All adepts to the starboard cargo bay and that goes double for you Petro. Professor Huyang, you know what to do.”

“Understood, Padawan, you can count on me,” replied the architect.

I switched off the comlink and left the bridge as another volley battered the shields.

By the time I had my helmet on and was standing in the short corridor to the main airlock, the lights flickered as another volley finally collapsed them.

I took a deep breath and poked Anakin along our Bond.

‘Ahsoka?’

Instead of speaking I sent a burst of memory.

‘Sithspit! We’re about to engage that Separatist Shadow fleet. I’ll send our Blades detachment along with Wraith Squadron for aerospace cover to you. Will that suffice?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about Master Yoda?’

‘Still on Ilum, in no position to render aid in time.’

The revelations I had dropped on him and the training of Master Ha, had convinced the Grandmaster to remain longer to properly internalize the techniques before he would return to Coruscant.

The lights flickered even more and struggled to stay on as the ship was hit with the single ion cannon that was housed in the belly of the Corona class.

Next came a missile that targeted the Crucible’s rear and promptly knocked out the hyperdrive and conventional engines.

I had to bend my knees to maintain balance from the shock that rang like a bell through the ancient hull.

My senses reached out encompassing the entire pirate ship.

A stock Corona could hold 64 crew, yet it seemed that Hondo didn’t pack his people to the gills in it or he didn’t have enough pirates in his employ for a full crew, as I only sensed 45 distinct sentients on board. All of them bristling with eager greed and satisfaction at the completion of a successful ambush - the prospect of a huge payday in their future.

The Separatist bounty on my head alone would merit the whole trip as extremely profitable. The  valuable components onboard, the Crucible and Huyang himself would also fetch enough from unscrupulous black market collectors to buy a nice habitable moon, if he was so inclined.

“M8, omega protocols,” I ordered.

“Are you sure, mistress?”

“Yes, we’ll restore your classified partitions from backup once we get out of this mess.”

“Omega protocols engaged.”

The pirate ship was closing and preparing to extend a docking tube.

I gestured and put the flickering lighting of the corridor out of its misery, plunging me into darkness.

The ships shuddered as they connected with each other.

A few seconds later I sensed a team of nine armed pirates advancing down it, most of them were weequay as expected from the gang of Hondo, but there was a nikto and another species I knew of, but hadn’t encountered in person before - Ansionian.    

Ansion was a system that sat on the crossroads on the Namadii Corridor and linked to the minor route that eventually led to the Utegetu Nebula. They were slender humanoids with pale-yellow skin, protuberant red eyes that gave them a permanent surprised expression and a single brush of dense fur that sat on the crown of their ovoid heads. Their presence in Hondo’s gang meant the old pirate was definitely branching out his operations to the north-western sectors of the galaxy as well.

The outer airlock door was cut through in short order with melting charges.

The pirate boarding crew piled in eagerly and I catalogued their weapons and tools.

They were definitely prepared to face your standard robe wearing Jedi, but not me. It made me wonder about Hondo’s intel sources in springing this little trap.

The inner door also yielded to the melting charges and flopped over pathetically to the ground.

The first thing thrown in was a sonic stun grenade.

The energy washed over me to absolutely no effect, not even straining my Tutaminis.

The pirate team stormed in, their surprise at the darkness of the corridor catching them flatfooted.

“Hey, did we hit this ship too hard?” hissed one of them.

“It is a relic,” reasoned another.

That was enough of that as I embraced Battle Meditation and began pushing down hard on their spirits, weaving an illusion that the darkness was their worst nightmares come to life.

“Uh, fellas, we- we- really should go,” whimpered a pirate.

“Shut it, Misk! Or you’ll get my blaster up your backside,” snarled the team leader.

Their odd assortment of blaster rifles lit up with underslung flashlights, but they all flickered out as I induced minor bursts of Electric Judgment in all of them.

“Ah! What?!”

“Keep your trap shut!”

I ignited the bright black-white blade of the Darksaber and my green blades, hovering to either side of me.

To their eyes I appeared as an ominous armored white-green specter in the darkness.

“FIRE! FIRE!”

The order was very difficult to obey from all the fear and hopelessness they were experiencing.

The first thing fired was an electronet. I hadn’t really faced it before, but it was still a distinct physical object that obeyed the laws of physics in this universe.

I stopped it cold in mid-air and sent it straight back to wrap around the team leader, where he began twitching and promptly collapsed into unconsciousness.

The frantically shot blaster bolts followed.

Eight rifles firing as quickly as the trigger finger could pull was quite easy in the narrow confines of the darkened corridor.

I deflected the shots and walked steadily forward at an unhurried pace.

With each bolt I had to decide between life and death.

A flick of the blade and a weequay’s head turned to superheated mulch as his own bolt was returned to him. 

Another deflection from my left blade had the ansionian take his bolt straight to the left leg, leaving him to utterly pass out from the pain of having a fair portion of his leg flesh superheated.

My right blade spun forward through the air like a green buzzsaw and decapitated three pirates on the trot.

That move, combined with the Battle Meditation pressing down, saw their resolve break and the remaining four retreated frantically back into the airlock.

I blurred forward into Force Speed, the Darksaber and my blades twirling into slashes that painlessly beheaded them.

My momentum carried me down the docking tube and into the Corona frigate’s own airlock room.

There was only one weequay pirate in here, manning the docking tube controls, who was frantically reaching for his holstered blaster pistol.

I grabbed him bodily with the Force and introduced him painfully to the room’s ceiling, before smashing him down just enough to break his legs and render him unconscious.

Before I could even take a step towards the corridor leading out of the airlock room, a blast door fell from the main bulkhead, cutting off my entry route and leaving me ‘trapped’. 

“That’s far enough, my Jedi friend.”

Hondo Ohnaka’s life sized holo appeared in front of the door, hands folded behind his back, dressed in practical leggings, tunic, riding glasses and helmet, but the ostentatiously decorated red and brown overcoat gave him a suitably over-the-top ‘pirate lord’ flair.

I ignored him and made a simple upwards gesture towards the blast door.

It groaned briefly as my Alter and Control on the circuitry strained the energy flows of the motivators, but it yielded - rising right back up into the bulkhead.

“What?! No, please stop, my Jedi friend, let’s talk about this? Yes?”

I walked straight through the holo and into the bowls of the frigate, taking the first right in the outer ring corridor of the saucer.

The first turret to pop out of the ceiling to blast me didn’t even get to fire, as my thrown blade cut it to pieces.

Figures that Hondo would have anti-boarding defenses.

You don’t get to be a pirate and live to his age by being stupid, though his wisdom was another story.

Three pirates managed to overcome my Battle Meditation, charging around the corner and opened fire on me.

HK would decry the stupidity, even as he would gleefully cheer when my deflections sent the shots straight back to sender, leaving the pirates dead on the floor.

“Please Jedi, there’s no need-”

My WESTAR was drawn in my left hand and shot out the PA speaker his voice was coming from.

I was not feeling particularly charitable at the moment, especially because prescient probability lines showed that many of Hondo’s men would creatively interpret his orders. Enough that both Petro and Byph would be killed in certain circumstances as they ‘resisted capture’.

Another blast door was shut in my face.

By the time I opened it, I was confronted by the first pirates who were actually smart - they attacked with energized vibroblades and four of them at once.

“Haaaa!” One screamed as he slashed for my head, whilst two others lunged to stab me in the chest.

The Darksaber riposted one blade, whilst my other blades stopped the others and I taught them the lesson for why a group melee against a Jedi was not wise at all.

My blades whirled and gave way, causing the pirates to overbalance badly.

Another twirling slash and it was all over.

A mild Force Push sent the one contesting my Darksaber right into the remaining pirate still waiting his turn to stab me.

My left blade relieved both of their walking privileges. 

I turned a corner to leave the outer ring corridor, heading into the ship’s middle ring.

Only to find it sealed with bulkheads and the interior life support reduced to full vacuum.

Hondo’s holo appeared in front of me again, “Very impressive, Jedi, but this is where you stop. I admit, I was given bad information. My sources told me this would only be a Jedi training mission filled with younglings. They did not say the famous Mandalorian Jedi herself would be on board.”

“Then your sources clearly wanted to dispose of you,” I said dryly.

“Yes, I see that now. So, what about you just head back to your ship and we’ll let you go. After all, you’ve killed and injured quite a number of my crew.”

My amusement soared as I perceived through the holo connection, which was coming directly from the bridge, how the pilot was preparing to undock anyway and leave me trapped on board the ship. They were also preparing to void the rest of the ship’s air, leaving me with only my beskar’gam’s supply, then make the jump to hyper. That trip would last longer than my air supply or so they thought.

I raised my hand and made a clawing gesture.

The pilot’s arms were wrenched away from the helm station, preventing him from issuing the undock command or touching the life support.

“Arrgh! What is this?!” he screamed as I levitated him helplessly into the air.

Hondo gaped, utterly stupefied in astonishment as his pilot did his involuntary flying under my Control.

“Don’t pretend you care at all about your crew Hondo. As far as you’re concerned, I’ve just saved you thousands of credits that you’d normally have to pay to them.”

I sent the pilot to kiss the ceiling with enough force to induce immediate unconsciousness, then let him drop. The angle meant the chair unfortunately did a nasty job of injuring his back as well.

Another pirate crewman who was manning the weapon system, tried to rush to the helm.

He met the same fate as the pilot, leaving Hondo all alone on the bridge.

“As you can see, I am not going to be trapped on this ship, Hondo. Now, be a good sentient for once in your life and restore the life support to the middle ring and let me through, so we can have a civilized discussion. Any funny business, I will know and you will not be making any profit on this trip.”

That magic word broke through his stupor and he made a big smile that stood in stark contrast to the fear in his eyes. “Ah, of course, my, uh, very powerful friend. Now you are talking my language!”

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Hondo’s cabin on board the ship, which was rather appropriately called the Gilded Reaver, was everything I imagined his home away from home to be and then some.

It was located directly off from the bridge within the core of the ship and featured an anteroom-office hybrid and an adjoining room where he slept. The space reflected his greedy profit driven personality with a touch of random eccentricity; floors draped with the prepared animal leather from many hunts, walls filled with display shelving with valuable trophies taken from the ships he had pirated on in the past, all surrounding an actual wooden desk with a tilting, throne like chair behind it. In addition to this was a number of hidden turrets in the ceiling and floor that would turn the space into a kill zone for anyone who was not Hondo Ohnaka.

“Please sit, my dear,” he gestured to the slightly less comfortable guest chair in front of his desk. “What do I call you without giving offense?” he asked unctuously.

I smiled behind my helmet and casually sat down with crossed legs, using technometry to subtly disable the turrets. Then I had to suppress a shudder as I perceived that Hondo had shifted from being pants shitting terrified of me to… being turned on?

A moment further to parse his emotions let me conclude he was actually one of those who found any female who could kick and outthink his ass rather attractive, mostly because he was usually surrounded by pirates who were idiots, stupid, bloodthirsty and he generally rang rings around them. Even the female weequay pirates who he undoubtedly invited to share his bed, didn’t come close to being a threat to him.

“Padawan Tano or simply Tano will do,” I said flatly, resting my elbows on the armrests and tenting my hands.

“Padawan?! Pffft,” he laughed, reaching below his desk and pulled out a bottle of something clearly alcoholic and a glass. “I don’t know everything about the Jedi Order, but I know enough to know that you, my dear, are no mere padawan.”

“Your attempt to appeal to my ego is wasted, Ohnaka.”

He poured himself a full glass and took a deep sip, “Aaaaah, that hits the spot. Can’t take a compliment, Tano? You’ve bested me and left many bodies in your wake. Not even Dooku was so ruthless.”

“Do remember you only caught Dooku because he let himself be caught, so that you could take him back to civilization to claim his bounty. If he didn’t have a use for you and was in any other mood, you and your entire pirate band would all be dead to the last and Florrum scorched to bedrock. I’m rather surprised he hasn’t yet enacted his revenge, unless… he was the one who sent you the intelligence that the Crucible would be on a training voyage. Dooku knows me quite well at this point, he knows what I do to pirates. Not to mention we Jedi are very protective of our younglings, like any good parent.”

Hondo swirled the remains of his drink in the glass, staring at it thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose it makes sense now. I received a tip about your ship from an vetted acquaintance at the Bounty Hunter Guild. He also showed me, with timed exclusivity, a bounty for kyber crystals that had also been posted by a black market collector.”

“How much?” I asked curiously.

“Five million each, minimum price. Incidentally, I can imagine that the crystals within the lightsabers of notable Jedi such as yourself would also fetch even more; ten, maybe even fifteen.”

It was just another trick and headache to throw the Jedi’s way. It’s not enough that the CIS and by extension, Palpatine, had a standing bounty on a Jedi’s head, now they were hoping to entice the professional thieves of the galaxy to go after lightsabers. The ultimate aim of which was gathering the kyber crystals for their bloody superweapon research.

“Well, I think you can firmly cross that acquaintance off your circle of friends, Ohnaka.”

“He was never a friend, just a business partner on occasion. I will have to decide if he was truly in on it to engineer my death or he was merely another unwitting cog in Dooku’s plan.”

“That is your future business, but whether you actually get to conduct it is what we are here to discuss. Your attack on the Crucible was intended to disable its hyperdrive, however, you failed to account for the fact that it’s a flying museum ship. As it stands now, for my colleague aboard the ship to repair it, he will need a fist sized ingot of coaxium.”

The Crucible’s hyper initiator, the device in the hyperdrive that did that actual job of creating the interface that allowed a ship to accelerate itself into the dimension of hyperspace was utterly ruined by the last missile that Hondo had fired.

“Very expensive,” he tapped his chin in thought, clearly trying to weasel his way out of what he could guess was coming.

“Yes, and until we get that ingot, the Crucible will have to be towed through hyper by the Reaver. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I tilted my head just enough, pushing the Force into my voice and letting the Mando helmet’s natural intimidation factor do its thing. 

“Ha ha, errr yes, I’d be happy to give your ship a tow, no problem,” Hondo said nervously. “The closest system where you’d be able to get coaxium would be Ansion.”

“Yes, where you have a base and will no doubt try to double-cross me or overwhelm me with dozens more of your pirate gang.”

“What? No, no. I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear,” he said, as if offended by the very notion that he would be so dishonorable, even as he was internally panicking that I had somehow figured it out.

A chime from the door leading to the bridge interrupted our conversation.

“Go away!” Hondo roared.

“Uh, boss! Sorry!” said the ship’s pilot, shouting through the door. “But we just received a distress call from Ansion!”

Hondo’s eyes flashed behind his goggles and he slammed a button on his desk, causing the armored door to slide open. The nikto pilot limped into the room, wincing with fear as he looked at me.

“Well?! Out with it already?! I’m in delicate negotiations for our lives!”

“Yes, boss. Uh, the distress call indicates that Ansion is under Separatist attack.”

Hondo rose out of his chair, crossed the distance to the pilot and slapped him around the head, “Idiot, why didn’t you relay it to my holo?!”

“You indicated that you were not to be disturbed, boss.”

Hondo just slapped him harder. “Get the ship ready to tow the Crucible and make the adjusted hyper calculations for Ansion.”

“Boss?” The pilot couldn’t believe his ears.

“Did the Jedi blasting you into the ceiling give you hearing problems?”

“N- n- no, boss.”

“Then do it!”

“Yes boss.”

The pilot beat a hasty retreat out the room.

“If he wasn’t such a good pilot…” Hondo trailed off, trying to contain his anger. He flung himself back into his chair and gave me his best suave expression. “Now my dear, given this new circumstance, how about we discuss a deal?”

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A/N: With Hondo's pleasant demeanor, charisma and sense of humor, he makes it hard for you to remember he's a pirate who doesn't hesitate to give a 'dead or alive' order for the younglings. Ahsoka is not going to be clever or play tricks with pirates in this timeline - she's the firm line in the sand protecting the adepts.

Enjoy the weekend and stay awesome folks!

The Force Wills - Chapter 138

“For us to have this conversation we need to be in a different place,” I held out the palm of my hand towards the Grandmaster.

Yoda briefly considered me, then gave a look to his holocron, who only nodded.

The weathered three fingered hand touched mine.

The temporary Bond was extended, accepted and I pulled both our consciousness into the endless realm of black stone and white light within the Darksaber.

He looked around with a frank fascination laid bare on his features, his pointy ears twitching as he stood and walked around my seated form.

“The Darksaber, this is. Padawan, why bring us here, did you?

“It is here that we can truly be alone. The Darksaber itself is creating a buffer between us and the Force. It naturally can’t cut us off completely, but this is good enough for our purpose.”

Yoda stopped in front of me, closing his eyes. I felt him reach out in the Force, confirming my words. “Necessity this is, you believe. Most troubling, padawan. Implications, disturbing.”

“The actions of the enemy necessitate it, Master. Surely you’ve felt what I call the Shroud over Coruscant. It does more than just obscure our sight of the future.”

Yoda harumphed, “Since it fell, studying and meditating on it, I have. More did you discover?”

I bore his skepticism without taking umbrage, knowing its true source. “Yes, I did. My discovery is precisely why this conversation has been so long in coming. Why I’ve only ever spoken to your holocron about it. You’ve probably made some very educated guesses already. However, you won’t allow yourself to make the biggest one, because it is so frightening and utterly anathema to your convictions, beliefs and dare I say it, dogma.”

I felt Yoda’s brief anger at my temerity to declare that even he, the great centuries old Jedi Grandmaster, was afraid and blinding himself out of that fear.

He outright scoffed, now walking back and forth, his gimer stick’s tapping, strangely echoing back to us, even though there was nothing to conventional reflect sound.

Yet, finally, before he could dismiss my words as arrogant nonsense - he caught his own thoughts and stopped dead. His green-gold eyes widened, his ears drooping and he stared at me with a partially open, even astonished expression.

I felt his presence in the Force, narrow down, inward, as he truly looked at himself, for the first time since the Shroud had fallen.

It was so subtle and insidious.

Now that we both had the buffer of the Darksaber surrounding us, not to mention the purity of the Force Nexus, the minor inroads that the enemy’s great work had been chipping into my own mind and thoughts was clear to see.

“You see it, Master Yoda? The sheer genius and dilemma that Darth Sidious has forced on the Jedi. The Shroud, the cloud of the Dark Side, the Clone War that he has unleashed on the galaxy. He has used Coruscant itself as the giant anchor for it, not just politically. The very ancient Sith shrine that the Jedi Temple was built over eons ago, as a rather futile effort to purify it, has become the lynchpin of the technique. The natural Dark Side of the planet, all the near trillion sentients on it, those who die, kill and struggle, all of it, just more fuel for the fire. He has subtly corrupted the Force itself and in so doing, in the very act of us being Jedi, as we open ourselves up to the Force’s strength, guidance and will, it allows him to blind us. More importantly, he is misleading us. Not merely in some vague notion of misdirection but literally, actively, as we would be standing across from each other and he might as well be right there. You have a secure meeting of the Council, he is there. You stand in the chancellor’s office, he is there.”

My words acted as they should.

Giant turbolaser blasts of realization crashed upon Yoda’s mind.

I hadn’t even truly begun yet.

“No…” The word seemed to tear itself from his lips before he closed his eyes and focused even harder. The Force bent outward now, quickly becoming a storm with Yoda at its center. He entered a state of calm, with a will that might as well have been neutronium. It was almost beautiful to watch, a display of mastery of self that spoke of centuries of effort and practice.

Yet it wasn’t perfect.

Nothing related to the sentient condition could be.

Yoda would be the first to tell you that even he didn’t stop learning and could still be surprised.

It didn’t take long from my point of view, but it might well have been an age. An age where Yoda had battled his own Dark Side, his fear of what the Clone Wars represented for the Jedi, his fear that slowly grew with each Jedi being killed in the war. He might have been clinging to the Code in that respect, but it was there and he hadn’t been addressing it. The fear of losing the very Order he had carefully stewarded since he had attained the rank of Grandmaster.

And worst of all, that everything he had done up to now, the responsibility of what his own failure could mean and that it would all fall onto his shoulders.

“Clever, the enemy has been.”

He opened his eyes, successful in conquering himself…

“He has, though he is merely the inheritor of the grand design, the implementation of it has been mostly the work of Darth Plagueis, his late master, and himself. He is singularly adept at corruption, twisting what is good to suit his own purposes and of course, a talent for Foresight that is not hindered by the Shroud. Tell me, Master Yoda, have you realized who he is yet?”

He battled his own anger anew and let it subside. “Blind, so blind we are. That we could not see. So many meetings, sitting across from the chancellor I did. Right in front of us, he was. Powerful he is, to shield himself from me so successfully.”

“A warning you must take to heart and mind, Master Yoda. Do you want to know what I foresee if you two should fight each other?”

“Another thing, to which I’ve been blind. So obvious in hindsight it is,” he grumbled, thumping his gimer stick into the black stone floor.

“Naturally, the enemy can’t know my own position, Master. If you knew, unprepared, whilst on Coruscant-”

“Understand I do, padawan. Amazing this existence can be, that I can still, after all this time, be humbled. No, not needed, your foresight is. Defeated, I will be.”

“Yes, but defeated, as you were,” I clarified with a raised finger. “Confronting him whilst being prepared and aware, is an entirely different path. He has prepared many paths and plans. In concert with his foresight, it's his singular greatest weapon. Yet even he has biases and blind spots, ones which I’ve been carefully using against him. He wishes to recruit both Anakin and myself eventually to his new Order, for us to join him in the Dark Side. We are carefully positioning the board and maneuvering around him as much as possible. It’s not enough to just physically defeat him.”

I raised my hand and the world around us briefly changed to a probability line, which saw Dooku and Savage try to overthrow Sidious. A battle which could take place on Serenno six months from now, where the Dark Lord travelled after sensing the potential threat that the dathomirian could be. The very fact that it could happen at all represented a failure on Savage’s part and my own.

The battle that followed was something that I could sense surprised Yoda.

Sidious’ skill with the lightsaber was unquestionable, even more so his sheer command of the Force and strength in the Dark Side. How he broke his opponents down with every swing, sinuously working his way through passive Force protections. Then before you could even blink, his strength overwhelmed your Control and you went flying under telekinesis that beggared belief.

Savage’s own overwhelming strength was dismantled in this manner, and Sidious’ Force Lightning was comparatively mild. Merely enough to buy some uninterrupted time to fight Dooku.

This fight was more even, yet Sidious was still clearly in command of the fight’s pace. He would never teach his apprentice anything in the Dark Side that could truly be a threat to him. In fact, the entire confrontation would be just another pointed lesson to Dooku, reminding him of his true place.

Dooku’s bladework was simply an astounding exhibition of efficiency, his Makashi cutting apart Sidious’ offense, but just looking at it I saw that Palpatine was again humoring the older man.

“Skill in all forms, he has,” Yoda declared, carefully studying how Sidious was moving.

I nodded, “He has trained himself to defeat any Jedi combat style he might encounter. Do you also see how contemptuously he moves? He also does not ever fight with his true capability, he draws you in, thinking you can win, until-”

With a singular movement, a burst of blinding speed from Palpatine that charged directly into Dooku, as he was in one of Makashi’s phases of retreat.

The Count of Serenno was barely able to bring his blade around to redirect Sidious’s red blade, before the Dark Lord sent a mere Force Push that just did enough to unbalance his opponent.

Sidious was then totally free to send an underhanded Force Lightning blast straight into Dooku’s stomach.

Sidious laughed in contempt as Dooku went flying as a Force Push was blended right into the Lightning in a stunning display of two entirely different techniques.

I gave another gesture and dissolved the view of the probability line.

Yoda didn’t need to see more.

“Of course, there is one Jedi who could defeat Palpatine,” I looked at Yoda knowingly.

“Windu.”

“Yes, Master Windu’s Shatterpoint and that is precisely why he will not fight him, but instead arrange for Windu to suffer a tragic fate with his supreme skills of Foresight. Even if we manage to engineer a confrontation despite that, he will have a contingency of betrayal or surprise ready.”

“Hmmmm,” Yoda mused, frustration creeping over his features. “Vexing this is.”

“His physical defeat is actually just one side of the dilemma, Master.”

With a surge of will, I moved us into a memory of my time at Kamino, in Tapioca City where the great hovering tanks of developing clones hovered in the air over a vast arena, dividing into subsections where clones of differing maturities underwent their education and training. The perspective pushed in further until we were within arms reach of a young Fett clone at the rough stage of a six year old. 

“You were one of the few Jedi to naturally raise concerns about the use of the Clone Army. The first Battle of Kamino, forced your hand and in the chaos of the subsequent first month of the war, everyone didn’t want to look into the miraculously timed arrival of the army, just when the Republic was in need of it. Even when things settled into a new equilibrium, the demands of the war just didn’t allow for a closer enquiry. Anyone who kept pressing on the matter was also quickly shut down or shamed, being accused of Separatist sympathies or even being a traitor. Now almost two years later, the GAR is almost a household name. Advertised and lauded by COMPOR with almost daily propaganda.”

Yoda didn’t need me to connect the dots further. “For us to use, Sidious intended. Greater purpose perhaps? No, secret purpose.”    

“Correct. You recall Master Sifo-Dyas warning you and the council, just prior to the Naboo Invasion, that a great war was coming and that the Republic would need an army?”

The grandmaster’s face fell, his small shoulders bending under the unseen weight as the curse of hindsight struck again. “Listen to him, we should have. Too quick to dismiss, even I was.”

“And now you see another primary reason why I did not come forward with my own gift,” I gave the small master a mild glare. “Yet Sifo-Dyas was not deterred and he went in secret to the Kaminoans to commission the clone army and its equipment. He pretended to have the council’s authorization and through judicious use of his own abilities managed to scrape together enough credits to at least convince the kaminoans to begin the project. Unfortunately, he was not cautious enough to avoid the eye of the Sith. He was killed, but Sidious saw potential and eventually he sent Dooku to continue the funding and the work.”

I made a quick gesture and we were now submerged in a memory of the Dome of Clan Skirata on Mandalore. There was no context for the location that I allowed, but it showed a grizzled veteran clone, who was getting a replacement bionic leg, whilst he was being examined within a bio-scan tunnel.

Yoda would likely infer this was on Mandalore, there was no stopping that, since there were a number of Skirata in beskar’gam, armed and carefully guarding the entire operation.

My own point of view of this operation, had been via proxy holodroid, which I was also editing out.

I pushed our perspective further into a holoscreen readout of the clone’s brain and eventually the bio-chip.

“Every clone ever grown, has one of these. When given a specific order, this chip overrides much of the clone’s higher cognitive reasoning and allows them to be ordered to obey a pre-programmed directive or the order of a sufficiently superior officer. The clone will carry it out to the letter, even at the cost of their own lives. Now these chips aren’t uncommon in clones in general. Their use was even directed by Sifo-Dyas initially as insurance against the clones being given orders by fallen or rogue Jedi. He had foreseen that the pressures of war would cause many to fall and with this, he was attempting to prevent that. However, with the Sith takeover of the project, the inhibitor chip gained a new purpose.”

The memory fell away and now I pulled us into a probability line.

We were standing outside the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, it was late in the evening and an entire clone legion was storming inside, quickly overwhelming the temple guard with massed, pin point fire, a drone swarm surging forward over their heads and spraying any Jedi they could with rapid blaster fire. Leading them was a quartet of Inquisitors, their red blades cutting down any resistance that could organize itself.

“Imagine Master Yoda, that it is happening all over the galaxy at once. Imagine a Jedi in the middle of battles on the front lines, suddenly being betrayed by every clone trooper and shot in the back.”

The grandmaster had closed his eyes, his hands clenched on the head of his gimer stick, once again fighting a renewed bout with his own anger.

“Walk into a trap, I have. Foolish, I have been.”

“Master Yoda, the Sith have been studying you for centuries. I challenge anyone to do better than you have. It is not your fault that the enemy is the enemy. Yes, perhaps there were occasions when you could’ve done things differently, actually listened to Sifo-Dyas for example, but Sidious would’ve just altered his plans and contingencies. If the GAR had been truly loyal to the Republic and the Jedi, he could’ve just released the brakes on CIS war droid production and utterly drowned us in metal. You’ve seen war reports I haven’t, Master Yoda, but I can guess quite a number of them are slightly baffled at the behavior of the CIS armed forces and their war production?”

Yoda nodded, “Outbuild us, they could. More ships and droids. Logistics, shorter and easier for them, they are. So, clones, one jaw of the trap, the droids, the other. The fallen Jedi leading the charge-”

“They’re Sidious’ Inquisitors. His own Order that he’s been secretly training for close to a decade by now. They’re either fallen Jedi, indoctrinated Jedi who were taken from the Agricorps or even some younglings his own operatives have managed to find.”

The probability line faded and we were back in the Darksaber’s expanse.

“Breaking with the Banite Order, he is already, dangerous,” Yoda sighed.

“He mostly believes it has fulfilled its original purpose at this point. Now he will push his new order forward and gain what he sees as ultimate power, politically, materially, in the Force itself, and immortality as well.”

Yoda scoffed and tapped the gimer stick to the floor, “Ambitious, he is. Many Sith, tried they have. For death, most wish, in the end.”

“He knows, and believes he can learn from their failures to finally succeed, which he generally will.”

Yoda stared at me with a hint of astonishment in his eyes, “Your knowledge on this matter, Ahsoka Tano. Secrets of the Sith, that he would never let go… ”

“My expression of foresight allows me to explore paths of the future, untrod. It allows me to gain data points and hints of where to direct my efforts in the present.”

Yoda was quick to grasp the implications. “Much to discuss, we have.”

“In here, Master Yoda, we will have as long as we need. We can’t leave Ilum until you are successfully brought on board to the plan that has been developed. With a bit of prep work, I can bring in another into this space, who is the other primary mind behind its development.”

“Another?”

“Let’s just say she’s much older than even you, Master and has been looking forward to this meeting.”

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“Just how do they expect us to find a tiny crystal in endless corridors and caves of ice?”

Katooni couldn’t help but point out the obvious after their small group had been travelling forward in what felt like a confusing maze.

At first, it seemed the corridors were simply iced over extensions of the main temple, but turn a corner and they could walk straight through a natural cave tunnel, with no logical rhyme or reason. There was also an ambient light everywhere that radiated from the ice in a way that at least staved off the sheer darkness that should’ve been there - as there was no conventional lighting or even naked flame to light up the way.

Petro shrugged, “What’s the big deal? We could easily last a night in here.”   

“Actually, according to my calculations,” Zatt tapped his modified datapad, sniffing as his nautolan physiology rebelled against the icy cold, “based on the planetary rotations and orbits of this system, the sun only rises on Ilum every nineteen standard days.”

“We don’t have the supplies to last that long even if we had our packs with us. Is this a survival test as well?” Katooni asked with mild horror.

“Only if we fail to get our crystal in time, which I don’t plan on doing. That’s why I’m taking this route,” Petro jerked a thumb towards the right path in the junction they were walking through.

“Petro, sticking together in a survival situation is the best course of action,” Katooni argued.

“We’re not in a survival situation yet. No, I’m going to be the first to get my crystal and get out of here.”

Without further word, the human teen turned and walked away into the icy gloom.

“Come along, we need to keep moving.”

“Always wants to be first, always thinking of himself,” Gungi growled.

“Selfish,” Katooni agreed angrily, struggling to maintain her calm. Petro always seemed to do everything in a way that seemed designed to infuriate her. In class, he would get the top scores with seemingly no effort, whilst she studied and trained her tendrils off, just to attain equal scores or second place. His attitude was just humble enough with the teachers, but the instant he could, he would go on these self-congratulatory monologues.

The natural cave gave way to construction, becoming an elegant frozen corridor before they headed into a circular room with four doors going in different directions.

“Oh, which way now?” Ganodi groaned with frustration.

“Given the time constraint, we might have to split into small groups,” Katooni hated the notion, but at least it was better than going at it completely alone.

“What? No!” Ganodi objected. Byph shook his flat head at the mere idea, his eyes wide with a raw fear.

Zatt glared at them all, “Are we Jedi or cowards? I have an idea. On the count of three, close your eyes and point to a door. That’s the direction each of us will go in.”  

Gungi nodded and the rest of the group agreed with some reluctance.

“One… two… three!”

Hands shot out, pointing towards doors.

Zatt and Katooni, left, Ganodi and Gungi, center door, whilst Byph’s hand was the only one pointing to the right door, which was shrouded in darkness.

“No! No!” Byph blurted through his left mouth, looking in horror towards where his traitorous hand had gone.

“Sorry, Byph, looks like you’re on your own for this,” Zatt said with regret.

“No, I’ll go with Ganodi and Gungi.”

“Byph, your instincts in the Force told you to go that way. As Jedi, we have to follow that,” Katooni encouraged him.

“Who knows what could be down there! There could be animals that see me as their next meal!”

“We learned how to pacify wild animals, Byph.”

“Which I was never any good at!”

“You’re a Jedi, Byph. You can do this.”

With that final word, Katooni firmly turned around and headed in the direction she had chosen, even as her heart railed against leaving poor Byph like that. Yet as she walked beside Zatt, it felt right and it was as if the Force put a warm hand of support on her shoulder.

Byph would be fine.

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My connection to Kina Ha was obviously not as strong as Anakin’s, but it was just enough for this purpose. She was currently on Devaron, making use of the planet’s own Force Nexus, where the Jedi Temple of Eedit was located, for this exact moment. Just how she had gained access without sending up all sorts of red flags back to the Jedi Temple of Coruscant, I had no idea. I had long since given up trying to figure out the ways the ancient kaminoan Jedi could cajole and manipulate the people around her.

“Master Yoda, may I introduce you to Master Kina Ha, a Jedi of the Old Republic.” Her supremely tall form shimmered into existence next to me.

Kina’s large black eyes, star-like shards shimmering in them, smiled serenely down at Yoda yet there was a hint of mischief there…

Oh boy.

Yoda actually dropped his gimer stick, such was his shock at seeing and sensing the sheer presence of Kina. Given that we were in the kyber realm of the Darksaber, where your state of mind was reflected more acutely - Yoda had been truly blindsided. Of all his imaginings of who I could’ve been talking about, never did it enter into the realms of possibility that I could bring someone like this to meet us.

She knelt down and placed her huge four fingered hand on Yoda’s tiny shoulder.

The level of communication that passed between them was one that went beyond mere words.

It was that of two souls, spiritually in communion.

“It is good to meet you, young one,” Kina grinned. “Yet sad that your kind has still kept to its isolationist ways.”

“Hmmm, know more you would of why.”

“And I understand it, even if I disagree with it in spirit. Yet we are not here to talk about that, Yoda. The galaxy is on the cusp of great change, whether for good or ill, is yet to be determined. It is about to be caught in the greedy unyielding hold of the Sith, once again. Instead of by conquest, they have worked from within and now, a Dark Lord sits in the chancellor’s seat of the Republic. He is steadily working to consolidate every political lever of power to his sole command in the name of fighting the very war he is orchestrating from behind the scenes. It will not be long now, when he will believe that everything is ready to begin his final act of revenge against the Jedi and the greater galaxy.”

“Something to be done, there must be.”

“Of course there is. There is a narrow window of opportunity that Ahsoka and I have been steadily working towards. He has caught us in a trap and it is when his confidence and sheer eagerness for that trap’s conclusion to reach its end, that he will be the most vulnerable. For all that he is most eager to shed the trappings of the Banite Sith Order, he is still Sith and that will be his undoing.”

Yoda nodded, “Perhaps. Uncertainty, too much. Time I need.”

I could feel he was rather in awe of actually being in the presence of someone who, for once, was actually far older than he was. That she was a Jedi from a legendary and tumultuous time in history was also tickling Yoda’s inner academic and he wanted nothing more than an uninterrupted year to just sit and talk to Kina Ha.

“Understandable, young one. Don’t be too hard on yourself though.”

Yoda actually grimaced, “Steer the Order into darkness, I would have.”

“Yes, there is no use denying it, young one. I can criticize many decisions made by you and the forebears of the current Jedi Order. You’ve joined us to the hip of the Senate, now we’re in a role as Generals of an army. Something that was avoided in my time until Revan foolishly dragged us into the Mandalorian Wars. You don’t need me to revisit how that ended. Don’t even get me started on the Jedi Lords during the pre-Ruusaan era. Yet unlike then, now we’ve clearly been gifted with a warning,” Kina gestured to me. “Does that not give you hope?”

“Hmmmm,” Yoda closed his eyes. “Yes, yes it does.”

“Now, you have much to learn from me in this relatively short time we have together. When you return to Coruscant, it will be too risky for me to appear like this. The Nexus beneath the Jedi Temple is his and he would surely sense me. The role we need of you, is to continue presenting Sidious with the picture he expects, then when the time is right, you will act. Not with a lightsaber but with the most powerful weapon of all.”

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“I don’t think this is the right way,” Zatt stared into his datapad with frustration, slapping the side futilely to encourage the scanner to make more sense. 

If he was to believe its results, he was currently standing upside down, north and south had inverted positions, yet west and east stayed the same. Yet his eyes and senses told him he was normally walking down an ice encrusted tunnel that was opening up above into an expansive cave with a huge ice wall on the other side that would be a dead end.

He pointed at it, “See, we better go back.”

Katooni on the other hand kept walking, staring at something high up. “Wait. Up there, look. Something’s flashing.”

Zatt rolled his eyes and did so, only seeing an near endlessly high jagged ice wall and nothing that could be described as ‘flashing’.

“Can’t see anything.”

“It’s right there!”

“It’s probably because it's your crystal calling you, Katooni,” he said with frustration. Lucky her. “You’ll have to climb to get it.”

“But… up there? It’s just so high.”

It was an unfortunate fear that she had developed during their academy lessons in falling and how to make any fall survivable. She had struggled the most to develop the basic momentum shedding technique and while eventually successful, it had clearly left its mark on her.

He put a hand on her arm, pushing hard in his heart and confidence, “You can do this, Katooni. Remember, it’s just slightly steeper steps.”

“What- what if I get up there and there’s nothing?”

“That’s a risk you’ll have to take. Hey, you’re lucky. I haven’t even seen anything resembling a ‘crystal’ here yet. Now, good luck and get climbing.”

Zatt turned around leaving his friend and classmate, focusing his mind and thoughts on getting this spirits-cursed scanner to work.

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What was this annoying whistling sound?

Gungi cursed inside his thoughts as he ran towards the sound that echoed through the ice tunnel.

“Not so fast,” complained Ganodi, her much smaller strides forcing her to run extra fast to keep up.

“Can’t you hear that whistling?” he growled with annoyance.

They turned a corner and improbably emerged on the banks of a large lake encrusted with drifting sheets of ice. From above, pure sunlight was being reflected down onto it from a tunnel in the cave ceiling that twisted out of view.

“What whistling?”

They were forced to a stop and Gungi scanned the area, opening his senses and ears.

There across the lake a huge pillar of ice speared down from the cave roof, whilst a cluster of icy spikes rose from below and held between was a brilliant light that was whistling and calling to every part of him.

It was like the warmth of Kashyyyk, the great trees, the smell and sound of it, all rolled into one.

“There.”

“I don’t see anything, Gungi. Just a lake. You think it’s your crystal?”

“Definitely.”

He carefully stepped forward, but only frustration welled up when he saw that the ice was too thin and the floating sheets would never hold his weight.

“There’s no way you’ll make it at the moment, Gungi. You’ll freeze to death if you fall in. You need to be patient. You see how the sun is setting and moving away from the lake? It will freeze over again and should allow you to reach it, but you’ll also have little time to get the crystal and make it back before the front entrance freezes over as well.”

“So I’ll have to wait and then sprint as if a bantha is chasing me to make it back.”

“Yes, I wish you luck, but now that you’ve found your crystal, I have to get mine.”

Ganodi waved and rushed back to the tunnel.

Gungi sat down in a meditative position at the edge of the lake, feeling the frustration boil within. It was right there, so close, yet might as well have been at the bottom of a Shadowlands abyss. It was as if he was staring at his greatest weakness given form in the shape of ice and water.

Meditation was the one subject of all in the academy where he constantly struggled.

It still boggled the mind how others in his class could just sit there for hours and seemingly achieve nothing. Intellectually he knew the purpose, but his heart beat with the drums of Kashyyyk.

Now to become the Jedi he meant to be, he was faced with the challenge of waiting, when every fiber of his being wanted to jump forward, brave the icy water…

No, that was death, a trap.

With gritted teeth, he willed himself to be still and quiet, to let the Force come.

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I- I shouldn’t be out here. So stupid. So stupid. Shouldn’t have left the others.

Byph’s thoughts were a spiral of self-recrimination as he walked alone through the gloomy icy tunnel. Each step echoing harshly in his hearing. Each step betraying his presence to a potential predator who would like nothing more than to snack on an ithorian.

Ever since he had been selected to go on this excursion to Ilum, this constant fear had been riding on his back like a hungry toscwon.

They were too young to go out into a galaxy at war. Every day brought news of battles, death, betrayals and destruction. It was a galaxy that was totally anathema to the natural ithorian pacifism that defined his species. Yet, here he was expected to find his lightsaber.

The weapon of a Jedi.

A weapon that would see him potentially having to fight in the future.

Fight against droids, which was the only thing that seemed to offer some salvation to his multiple stomachs at the thought. He knew though, that there was so much more than just droids. His visits to the Archives were a constant nightmare, as he referenced all the other dangers that Jedi could be expected to defend others from. He just couldn’t help himself but imagine the worst.

He wringed his hands, pushing out his senses as far as they could go.

Sensing for potential danger.

Sensing for any hint of the Dark Side.

What was Master Yoda and Padawan Tano thinking? Sending us out here, where some horrible creature could pop out at any moment.

So absorbed was he in his own thoughts and fears, he didn’t even realize where his feet was taking him until it was too late.

In the distance, the icy tunnel seemed to stop and a light was there.

He blinked his large eyes and the light resolved into a monster!

It had eight awful eyes that radiated red malice, set above a perpetually snarling maw with mandibles and teeth!

Byph barely kept both of his mouths closed, swallowing the scream that had been about to erupt.

He blurred with a Force Speed technique to the side and hid behind the rock there, not even caring that his delivery of the ability had been the smoothest and best he had ever achieved.

The fear crept into him from every part of his being and wouldn’t let go.

He closed his eyes, gripping the top of his head and could only whimper.

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This is ridiculous.

Ganodi couldn’t believe that after all this time, effort, dedicating her entire life to being a Jedi since she could remember, that it all boiled down to finding a tiny little crystal in an icy maze that was seemingly constantly changing around her.

What was sacred about this?

Not a single crystal had revealed themselves in more than forty minutes of constantly walking and freezing her ear stalks off.

She was rodian and her species did not like the cold, a fact her body was reminding her of, despite all the warm clothing she had layered on herself. She could literally feel the natural mucus of her large eyes encrusting with ice and had to constantly blink at a much faster rate to preserve her own sight.

Are there even any crystals here?

Her frustration built to such a level…

“Really?! You have us walking around in circles finding nothing until we freeze to death!” she shouted to the Force.

It was completely irrational and she could already hear a number of the Jedi teachers in her head, remonstrating her for thinking that she could address the cosmic energy field itself in such a crude manner.

I’m never going to find it, she thought morosely.

Her next step went through the icy floor with a crunch.

Her heart raced as gravity pulled her down, the world dissolving into an icy haze as the crumbling ice became as fine as dust around her.

She could feel herself tumbling once through the air, by sheer instinct she bled off the momentum into the Force, saving herself from injury when her back met the hard ground.

Regaining her orientation, she was now sliding down a steep icy incline.

The moment her sight cleared, Ganodi had barely a second to brace her feet as the incline became a rough floor.

Despite preparation, she was unable to absorb the momentum entirely and ended up shooting forward face first to skid along the ice.

“Owwww,” she mumbled miserably into the floor covered with a fine snow.

She quickly sat up and hurriedly rubbed the feeling back into her face, dispelling the unyielding grip of the cold.

Her eyes blinked in shock as she took in her surroundings.

Crystals.

Hundreds of them… no, thousands of them, all twinkling with light and the Force from every surface of the cave she had landed in.

“Oh, great. Now what?”

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Listening to Kina Ha and Yoda speak, not just with words, but directly with concepts using the Force as a conduit just showed how much of a gulf still existed between my own knowledge and theirs.

I could mostly follow and it was only thanks to my time training under Bendu.

“Connection of three points, it is?”

“Yes, but eight with this structure,” Kina drew an octagonal shape that quickly became three dimensional, then went to fourth even as I looked, threatening to give me a headache just looking at the conventionally impossible shape. “Will allow for a resonance to dissipate the energy safely and not bleed it all over into our reality, which will instantly create a Wound and kill everyone, whilst also overcoming the binding energy of the planet.”

Yoda’s ears flinched backward in horror.

Yes, creating a rerun of Malachor V on a greater scale was bad and I shuddered at the mere thought.

I stood up from my own meditation, “Masters, I’m afraid we’re going to have to pause for a few moments. One of the adepts is approaching.”

“Very well, Ahsoka, I’ll be waiting,” Master Ha’s form faded.

I released Yoda’s hand, pulling us out of the Darksaber’s realm.

The sun had retreated enough to allow the ice to recover a quarter of the entire length of the massive entrance to the crystal caves.

I felt Yoda’s prodigious senses reach out and do a full accounting of every adept still in the caves. Thankfully, none were injured or in dire peril, the latter of which I would’ve been able to warn him about anyway.

Running back through the entrance was Petro.

He had such an air of smug satisfaction in his body language that he was the first to get his crystal, that I had the irrational urge to slap some sense and humility into him. Thankfully, that was not my job at all.

Yoda gave me a knowing look and a brief twitch of his mouth said that, while amused, he did not approve of my thought.

“Looks like I’m the first one back with my crystal.” Petro declared with pride. His partially broken voice was also not doing my montrals any favors, the shifting cadence between high squeak and low bass was annoying as hell. “That wasn’t so hard.”

I kept my body language and outward mask in perfect neutrality, though I gave him a raised eyebrow as I sensed no vergent kyber energy on his person at all.

“And the others?” Yoda asked pointedly.

“Who knows? I didn’t want to gloat since I found mine so quickly.”

Yoda gave me a side eye.

“Please, show us your crystal, Petro,” I asked expectantly.

He fiddled inside a pocket on the arm of his jacket, before holding out a curved ‘crystal’ that looked almost like a jagged tooth in the palm of his hand.

His brilliant smile quickly faded to a confused horror as the pure crystal of ice and not kyber swiftly melted in the beaming sunlight coming from above, returning to water.

“A crystal you have found, water you have brought,” Yoda chuckled as only he could.

“But- but that’s impossible, it was my crystal, I was so sure of it,” Petro stared at his empty, slightly wet hand.

“So certain were you,” Yoda walked forward and tapped his gimer stick lightly on Petro’s chest. “Go back, and closer you must look.”

“But the door is already a quarter closed, it’s a maze in there.”

“The longer you spend out here complaining, the less time you have to actually look, Petro. Hurry.”

His eyes widened in realization at what he was doing and he sprinted back through the door.

I sat down and held out my hand to Yoda.

He grabbed hold and in the blink of an eye we were back in the Darksaber realm with Kina patiently waiting.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” she said with a grin to Yoda. “Let’s talk about stealth within the Force and how we can take a page out of the Sith’s book, without becoming them.” 

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The climb seemed to go on and on.

There was no logical possibility that it could be this high, yet somehow when Katooni looked down, the starting point below was barely within sight.

The fear kept trying to creep back in.

She resolutely refused to give in to it and just continued the climb - one hand and foot at a time, making sure of a stable base before pulling up, exactly as the training dictated.

Looking up was somehow worse than looking down, as it seemed that the light of her crystal wasn’t getting any closer - it was stretching itself away as if space itself was being bent.

“Focus, my focus determines my reality,” she whispered to herself.

The edge of ice under her left foot decided to crumble under her weight.

Her heart raced, gasping in a fright that shot up and down her spine as she reacted, clawing at the ice wall with her questing right hand.

A grip was found miraculously and she called on the Force to strengthen her hand as she dangled in the air.

“I can do this,” she said aloud.

A brief Pull with the Force, let her surge upward, finding new handholds and she embraced her senses to feel where her feet would find support.

In this vein she continued, and the light of her crystal came closer.

She staved off the surge of victory and eagerness that threatened, keeping her emotional center.

It was almost a surprise to reach up and feel a large flat platform of ice - the very top of the wall.

Another pull and she was rolling onto the entrance of another tunnel that branched off from this higher position.

She stood carefully, keeping her serenity and gazed at the kyber crystal, hanging from the stalactite like a fruit that was ready to be plucked, calling to every fiber of her being.

She just had to reach out and take it.

Her hand came forward, touching the crystal with the most delicate of grips.

It immediately tumbled off the stalactite, the glow fading slightly and tumbled into the palm of her hand with an eager energy.

Katooni closed her hands on it and immediately felt it.

A sense of belonging, completeness, warmth and sheer life, that echoed through every part of her mind, body and spirit.

She had done it!

Any idea of celebration was forestalled when she also felt urgency from her crystal.

“Yes, have to hurry,” she muttered, quickly putting the kyber crystal into the most sturdy and secure pocket on her belt.

A look down confirmed that there was no way she could survive a fall that far with her current skill in the momentum technique.

“The only way is forward then.”

She steeled herself and ran as fast as her feet could carry her on the precarious ice.

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Zatt adjusted the scanning calibration of his datapad for what felt like the hundredth time.

He had set it to look for any significant energy source above a certain threshold that he had calculated a kyber crystal would possess. In this respect, he was successful as the readout showed dozens of the crystals within the tunnel he was currently walking.

The problem was he couldn’t see them.

He held up the scanner, which said there was a crystal on the tunnel wall right in front him.

Nothing was there.

‘Were they invisible?’

He put his hand against the freezing cold wall, wincing as the icy numbness seeped the warmth from his hand greedily.

The crystals were seemingly intangible as well or his scanner was malfunctioning.

“Urggh, useless thing!” His anger surged, reaching a boiling point. Ever since they had gone into the caves, the multifunction device he had worked on for years and been improving every month with new iterations had given contradictory readings. This was its first true test in the field and it was failing at every turn!

The anger demanded expression and he began smashing the device against the unyielding ice wall with all his strength.

It managed to survive two hits, before the thin steel exterior casing, bent under the strain.

Another hit and the internal seals broke, wiring stretched to beyond rated limits and finally the battery spilled out.

In disgust he chucked the remains to the floor where it sparked pathetically and the small readout screen faded.

A slight crack in the ice wall was the only impression that his anger had done anything and Zatt felt a hopeless despair fall on his shoulders that was so powerful he couldn’t even stand anymore. He fell onto his butt, leaning with his back against the ice, not caring about the warmth that was now being leached away.

He stared at the pitiful remains of the scanner. How much time had he wasted by foolishly relying on it? He couldn’t even tell time anymore because he had integrated his chrono into the datapad.

No, I have to rely on myself.

Technology had always called to him on an intellectual level and as a youngling he had always struggled the most in using the Force for sensing beyond what mere eyes, ears and touch could give. As compensation, he had thrown himself into the sciences and even when he had caught up to his peers in Force senses, he still preferred the surety and reliability of machines.

Unlearn what you have learned, he heard Yoda’s voice.

Zatt opened himself to the Force and let go.

Astonishment hit him like a turbolaser blast. He felt it. The life, the warmth, the strength, calling out to him from just behind his back!

He jumped to his feet and whirled around, only to see a visible glow from beyond the ice wall, illuminating the fact that it was barely a few centimeters thick.

He didn’t think, he didn’t debate or reason… he acted.

The Force Push shot from his hand and shattered the ice easily.

Beyond was a small nook and inside, cradled and waiting for this exact moment, an actual kyber crystal that he could feel practically was singing for joy within the Force!

He quickly grabbed it and it came eagerly.

“Yes!”

Zatt took only a moment to savor the accomplishment before he began running, stretching out with his senses to find the way.

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Byph felt the teeth in both his mouths chatter as he hesitantly stepped towards the terrifying creature.

Each step elicited a new growl of warning - Do not come closer.

He ignored the fear - his crystal was within the maw of this beast, he would get it. He was a Jedi, he was not ruled by his fear.

The beast’s eyes grew brighter with red intensity, yet its maw remained open.

The fear was palpable now in the air, pressing down on him from all sides.

No, I will not give in to you.

Step by cautious step he came closer, each one a tiny victory as the beast wasn’t moving, rooted to its spot as if somehow chained.

Finally, Byph was in arm’s reach. If the beast wanted, it could lurch forward and swallow him with a single bite, yet it only remained still, threatening, pushing the fear onto his spirit.

It took everything he had to reach out with his left hand, the beast could now just bite and sever his arm off instantly, yet it did nothing.

In a flash of courage, Byph’s hand blurred forward and grabbed his kyber crystal from the beast’s tongue.

The light faded, his mouths could only chitter with cold and astonishment as the beast vanished, to be replaced with a crystalline ice formation that merely looked like the beast.

Byph looked down into his palm at the tiny crystal, resonating with triumph and eagerness. It was proud of him? For having conquered his own fear.

I have to go, time is running out.

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“Enough, this must be.”

“Are you sure, young one?” Kina Ha asked.

“Communicate, we will, through Ahsoka and my holocron, when Coruscant, she leaves.”

She merely nodded and turned to me. “You’ve done well to walk the path of the Matukai, Ahsoka. It’s by far the hardest path any Jedi can elect to take, even in my time it was rare for us.”

“I hardly feel like I’ve gotten anywhere at all with it,” I said ruefully.

“That is its nature. Mastery is merely a threshold and perfection will always be a horizon in the distance. Now I have some training of my own for you to work on, but that will have to wait until you’re away from Coruscant again.”

“Yes, first of the successful adepts, approaching they are.”

“See you soon, Master Ha,” I bowed.

I pulled us away from the connection and our conventional senses reported we were back within the Ilum Temple’s main rotunda.

The ice door was now almost three meters from the floor and steadily creeping closed, centimeter by centimeter.

The first to appear was Ganodi.

The young rodian, completely out of breath, stopped at the base of the stairs, leaning on her knees. “I’ve got it!” she declared once she had some of her wind back, holding up the tiny kyber crystal.

“Well done,” I smiled at her.

Following her by mere minutes was Zatt. “Padawan, I found this without my scanner! It’s amazing! The kyber crystal is alive.”

I patted the young nautolan on the shoulder, “Yes it is and it will grow with you. Most don’t recognize that fact until much later, excellent perceptions you have there.”

He beamed under the praise as Byph came running in, holding up his own crystal up in the air, rapidly babbling in Ithorese such that it was almost impossible to translate. His emotions did the talking, however.

“There is no such wonderful moment as when you truly find your courage, Byph. I want you to remember these words and this goes for all of you." I recited the Litany Against Fear, amending the final line with, "Only I in the Force will remain."

The adepts were spellbound by the words and I sensed even Yoda was briefly stunned by the litany.

“I did it!” came the growl of Shyriiwook.

Gungi ducked under the advancing ice barrier and held up the crystal that looked comically tiny in his large hairy hands.

“Well done, Gungi. Two of your classmates, however, have yet to appear.”

“That’s not good,” he said with worry, staring at the creeping ice.

“We should help them,” Ganodi said with determination, walking forward without fear, only to encounter Yoda’s unyielding gimer stick poking into her chest.

“Left the cave you have, help them, you will not. Fight the battles of others, you must not. Robbing them, you will, of growth and strength.”

“How would you feel if I had pointed out your crystals to you Ganodi, Zatt? Or carried it to you, Gungi, Byph?” I asked the four adepts.

The realization was immediately apparent in their eyes and Yoda gave me a grumpy look for slightly simplifying the lesson he was trying to teach.

My senses stretched outward and it was quite easy to find Petro and Katooni. The former had been running in circles, just fifty odd meters away whilst the latter was now stuck behind a thick sheet of ice. Her relatively meager Force Push had been unsuccessful in budging it at all.

“Petro! Petro!”

He heard her and rushed towards the transparent ice sheet. “Katooni? Is that you?”

“Petro! I’m trapped, can you help me get out?!”

“I can’t, I- I- still haven’t found my crystal,” he admitted, his face showing his internal conflict - the selfish desire for his crystal battling against a clear friend in need, who would also not escape the cave without his help.

“Petro! You can’t leave me,” she said with indignation.

“I- I have to go.”

“Petro, no!”

The young man didn’t listen and started running away, desperation filling his every sprinting stride, even as his heart punished him ruthlessly. Making him hate himself, but he needed to get his crystal! If he didn’t get it, after years and years of effort, if he failed at this moment after being so successful for so long, what was it all for?

Was sacrificing a friend to die a worthy exchange for becoming a Jedi? What would the others think of you?

Petro skidded to a dead stop as that thought pushed into the forefront of his mind. I noted with amusement that his subconscious had used my own voice.

The answer was simple and instantly made his path so clear, it was almost painful in his mind.

He turned around and sprinted back with a burst of Force Speed.

“Katooni!”

The young tholothian surged to her feet, rising from her misery at being left. “Petro?!”

“Listen, there’s no time. Put your hand on the ice. Together we can break it. I know it.”

There was no time for doubt and without pause they slammed their palms on the thick mass, submerging themselves into the Force and PUSHING.

The ice, unable to flex or disperse the supernatural kinetic energies, cracked under the combined strain and finally shattered into countless pieces, becoming no more than jagged remnants and pulverized flakes.

He held out a hand, pulling her out. Her smile was brilliant and her heart swelling with warmth and pride in her friend. “I knew you’d come back. Now come on, the door is about to close.”

“You go ahead,” he shook his head, his eyes seeing and sensing the kyber crystal that had fallen amongst the ice shards.

“But it’s too late!”

“Just go, Katooni, trust me.”

She grit her teeth and nodded, calling on the Force for swift strides.

She found the exit swiftly and jumped into a rather impressive tactical slide to make it beneath the door, which had just two feet to go before it would seal off completely.

“I have my crystal but Petro is still inside.”

The ice door completed itself as she spoke, the last vestiges of sunlight disappearing from the giant crystal above.

“Give up on your friend, do not,” Yoda advised.

The ice door thickened, becoming completely opaque. The adepts watched with dread and baited breath.

I inwardly grinned as I sensed Petro gathering the Force, what must have been the most he’d ever channeled at once.

He burst into Force Speed, charging straight for the unyielding thick ice and at the right moment, unleashed everything he had into a Force Push with as narrow an area as possible.

Ice exploded outward as his body blurred through the pulverized cloud of ice like a cannonball.

He ended up losing his footing, tumbling forward into a roll and finally stopped, raising his hand with an actual kyber crystal in it this time.

The adepts cheered and Gungi thumped his big chest in victory for his friend.

“Wait,” Ganodi said with confusion, “how did he break the ice? I thought…”

“Only water, made solid, was the door. Easy to break, if you have the will,” Yoda explained with a mischievous air.

“But… you said we would be trapped,” Katooni said with a mild sense of betrayal.

“Not by the cave, you were,” Yoda smiled. “But by your mind, you were. Lessons you all have learned. Find courage you have,” he stared at Byph. “Hope, patience, trust, confidence and selflessness.”

Each adept could only nod as their experience in the caves solidified and would become something that would be an anchor for the rest of their lives. The realization of why this place was so sacred to the Jedi, taking hold.

“Take your crystals with you to the Crucible. Listen carefully to Professor Huyang, you will. Soon the next step on the path of Jedi, you will make.”

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A/N: And so it begins... Yoda is in Fulcrum at last. The adepts have their crystals and Ahsoka will be teaching them further.

Enjoy the weekend and stay awesome folks!

2078: Highriders - Chapter 12

The tequila was… different.

Not bad, but it somehow slid down the pipe differently. It had all the right notes of flavor, but there was an extra tangy aftertaste.

Fuck it, he thought.

He downed the whole lot in one gulp, put the glass down and slid it forward. “Drink slinger, another.”

The skinny highrider behind the bar, wearing an apron over a scruffy vac suit adorned with workgroup holo patches, gave Johnny a raised eyebrow before getting another fresh glass and began the process of making another Tequila Old Fashioned.

“Less syrup, the last one was too sweet.”

The bartender paused briefly, before nodding, only throwing in a quarter ounce.

Thirty seconds of stirring later, the drink was strained in a rocks glass over a large ice cube.

The completed cocktail was pushed forward and Johnny carefully took a sip.

Much better.

While he was mostly used to this ‘new’ body by now, there were still little things that carried over from when V had been solely in the driver’s seat. The taste buds would especially throw the odd surprise. In his old body, he would’ve preferred a sweeter Old Fashioned, the sensation from the drink on the tongue was different now. This was just one example of a dozen odd discoveries he had made since he had made the transition back into meatspace. When he had shared the wheel with V for the body, it had certainly been an experience, adjusting not just to a woman’s body, the hormones, the plumbing differences, learning an entirely different way to walk, move and the feedback of having V’s rather impressive rack reacting to those movements.

Now it was all his rack, his toned ass and hadn’t that been a doozy to sort out in his head.

He was Johnny fucking Silverhand, man’s man, now… 

Well, at least V had somewhat eased the transition with a custom Mr. Studd that rather impressively replicated what had been between his legs.

No, now he was just Hollow.

To most of the world, a woman, a bad-ass sniping Solo who kept her head down and shot your head off from kilometers away. A mask that slipped slightly whenever he brought a joytoy to bed.

Yet, there were moments where he caught himself almost yearning for the old spotlight. To just let the old ego resurface and give the finger to the world.

Sure go ahead, Johnny. Let the world stomp you flat.

The whole immortality tech business would be bad enough. Even as a former Rockerboy merc turned AI, he could tell shit was gonna fly in the fallout. He imagined trying to tell the world that the first man to truly cross that bridge was someone who’d been a ‘terrorist’. It didn’t matter what the actual truth was, perception was all that mattered.

He took the last sip of the tequila and slammed the glass down with a touch more force than necessary.

It was always the same pattern after a gig and he just couldn’t escape it.

Get the job, do it, come home covered in guts and glory, get paid and then the maudlin would set in, which had to be lubricated with tequila, smoking and sex.

You’d think going to the ‘Net and back would change things, but he was quickly discovering that there were some things that would never change.

He forcefully dragged his thoughts away from that topic and scanned the bar.

It was barely a few hundred meters away from Tycho Heights. A seedy place, clearly run by the Driftkin, with cheap furniture that came out of either a 3D printer or made with the reforged scrap from local industry. The air hung heavy with a potent mix of Nic-sticks of a dozen flavors, since there was no lighting up in the oxygen controlled habitats on Luna. It was like the old vape craze that had crashed and burned even before the Time of the Red, except here it was the only game in town for those with the nicotine addiction.

The old ghost of that addiction was barely a wisp of memory with no bite, thanks to the Cold Turkey that being within V had forced on him. Now he was within her perfect, military grade chromed out body and he’d be damned if he was gonna fuck up these synth-lungs. So he firmly ignored the temptation to actually get a Nic-stick for himself.

The denizens of the bar was a mix of highrider lowlifes, Driftkin mostly, but there were a few other workgroup tattoos and holos sprinkled in, dedicated spacers and some low level corpos.

In one entire length of the room, a group of highriders were playing darts, standing more than double the distance you would on Earth. The walls festooned with active holos showing live zero-g sports, where a loud group of Driftkin were betting on the action.

In this case, Z-G Combat, that reminded Johnny of augmented MMA mixed with acrobatics in tall domes. Some of the moves they pulled could’ve been taken straight from the Bushido movies, but there was no faking or wirework needed here.

Another screen had drone racing, with competing operators jacked into neural interface rigs and racing high performance drones through underground lunar tunnels, lava tubes and even some surface sections.Then of course, low-G soccer, where the challenge was as much to stay on the ground without launching yourself into the air and out of control, whilst retaining possession and scoring goals. The Lunar version of the game was quite spectacular to watch, but there were only enough pro-teams for a single league. It was popular enough back on Earth and beyond to rake in the eddies.

“Another,” he instructed the barkeep.

He was halfway down that drink when his military grade ears and eyes picked out someone approaching his left with purpose.

It could’ve been just another customer taking a seat, but somehow Johnny doubted it, especially when he noticed the finer details in the large mirror behind the bar.

“One glass of your best Lunar Reserve single malt Scotch,” ordered the tall figure.

“Only take that out for special customers, Earther-”

The man with a dark blue corpo suit, fit to perfection, made a negligent gesture as he sat down. The bartender’s left eye glowed slightly as his retinal imager flashed. The corpo making a transaction right there and letting the eddies do the talking instead.

“One scotch coming right up.”

Johnny lazily and very casually looked left, meeting the constantly lit blue optics of the newest customer.

Fuck.

Mr. Blue Eyes.

He’d seen this fucker out of V’s eyes on a few occasions and during his hiatus in cyberspace had come to learn a lot more. He was a pro merc for Night Corp, who was dancing to the tune of the AI playing with the city as its petri dish. Blue Eyes might also be the proxy for that AI.

“Still drinking away your sorrows, Johnny?”

Blue took a sip even as pure shock blasted through every nerve ending in Johnny’s body. It wasn’t that he’d been recognized despite having an entirely different body, face and even skull sponge at this point.

It was the deep tone and timbre of the voice now coming from his interlocutor.

There was only one man who spoke like that.

He’d met him numerous times in the 2010s. They never worked the same gigs, their circles and temperament were too different. The one place they did have in common was the Atlantis and the last gig to attack the old Arasaka Tower with a nuke.

Alt had fixed the scrambled mess that Saburo had made of Johnny’s memories as much as she had been able.

Man, had that been an ego puncturing moment if there ever was one. Actually dying like some chump newbie to Smasher’s cannon within the first few seconds of that gig. Then getting my ass Soulkilled.

The voice he had just heard belonged to the leader of the other strike team. The one who had actually confronted Smasher on the roof of the tower.

Johnny downed the remains of his drink in one gulp. “You’re either the stupidest gonk in the system, using that voice or you’re really him. Should I even be surprised that you’re still around?”

Morgan Blackhand aka Mr Blue Eyes in a proxy body leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar, casually playing with the glass of Scotch. “Even in our day, Hollow, there were ways to extend life. I have had the means to use them and now it seems I can save a lot of money thanks to the efforts of your partner.”

“Cutting through the bullshit, what do you want, Blue?” 

Blackhand only smirked at Johnny’s derision. “Well, if there’s one thing your time in digital oblivion has cured you of, it’s your recklessness and it’s also seemingly put a professional bone in your body. You can learn it seems.”

Johnny only glared in response at the original legend of Night City, the man who had practically written the book on modern mercenary work. 

“Fine, why else would I be here, but to offer you both a gig.”

Johnny still wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t being played by the Tentacle AI. Was this truly Morgan Blackhand? What would that AI have to gain by pretending to be him? He honestly couldn’t think of a single reason beyond gaslighting and fucking with their heads, which was the stock in trade for that AI. “Why come to me? Not exactly the spokesperson for V.”

“I only recently arrived on Luna and V is currently occupied, it’d be very rude to interrupt. You’re here, you know the game and can negotiate somewhat on V’s behalf or at least bring my offer to her when she’s in a state to hear it.”

“Fine, but first, anyone with good enough records can fake that voice. Either Militech or Arasaka  undoubtedly has enough surviving data to make a good facsimile.”

Blue nodded, “Entirely possible, Johnny. However, you must ask yourself whether you’re in any position to really judge. Arasaka did a number on your memories and I’ve since learned you had your noggin straightened out somewhat, but nothing I can say or show you here will truly satisfy and give you certainty. Whether I’m pretending to be Blackhand or not, it’s irrelevant to the matter at hand. You could also say after so long, I’m getting tired of wearing this proxy and in a stupid moment of weakness, let my professionalism slip.”

Johnny scoffed and shook his head, “Now I know you’re full of it, Blackhand pulling out the stick out of his own ass, wouldn’t happen.”

“Choose to believe whatever you want to, Johnny.” Blue pulled out a data shard and put it on the bar. Johnny twitched as he felt a firewall go up around them in cyberspace, including a radiant jammer from Mr. Blue Eyes that would confound anyone trying to use surveillance.  “Details of the gig, but I know you’ll just throw it in the trash if I don’t sell you on it first. You know that just after the war of 2070, a scientific breakthrough was made regarding gravity. Our science could finally begin to alter it in limited ways, change it. The espionage war in the shadows for this technology was brutal, but the end result was that all the major players either got it, or at least gained enough to crash start their own homebrew programs of the technology.

“The problem with the technology is that there are still a lot of kinks and caveats to it. It’s miniaturizable to the extent that we’ve got anti-grav boots with thrusters on them, but the more you want to do, the more your power requirement goes exponentially higher. All the big corps in aerospace have been bashing their heads against the problem with no success. However, there is one person that might have just cracked it.”

Johnny leaned backward and folded his arms, “And let me guess, they’re here on Luna.”

Blue smiled mildly, “You’re correct of course. Her name is Dr. Kaori Matsui, working as lead researcher at a very secret facility right here in Tycho City, for Mitsubushi-Sugo Aerospace.”

“Not secret enough then.”

“Indeed, and that’s the problem. A standing extraction order has been issued by Militech, they want her and her research, by force if necessary.”

“Surely Sugo can protect her.”

“In ordinary circumstances, yes. The problem is that they relied a bit too much on the shield of secrecy. Their level of security here in Tycho is all automated, minimal personnel to create as small of a footprint as possible. Now that it’s breached, they’ll be caught flatfooted with no way to meaningfully resist the extraction.”

“And that’s where V and I come in.”

“Yes, you’ll step in and keep Dr. Matsui safe so she can continue her vital research unimpeded.”

“Timeline.”

“You need to be on overwatch within eight hours. Militech will try subtle first to avoid making waves.”

“Pay?”

“This may be a somewhat long term gig, so it’ll be flexible and accumulating. I’m essentially hiring you as bodyguards until her work is complete. Militech will not be the only ones coming, they’re just the first.”

“This is gonna be expensive, Blue. Hope your pockets are deep.”

“Money in this case, is irrelevant, just so long as it is done. Your job will be made even more difficult in that at least initially, you can’t contact the good doctor. You must be her literal guardian angels.”

“Sugo’s going to eventually get wise.”

“They will, at which point you’ll have no problems from me if you work together openly. They may even hire you as well and you’ll get paid double for the same job. Interested yet, Johnny?”

“You definitely have my attention, Blue.”

“Good. Get it done, Johnny.”

The proxy stood and without further word left the bar.

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“You’re fucking kidding me.”

I stared at him with wide eyes as we both hovered over the virtual mansion in my datafortress.

“Can’t tell you one way or another. It could’ve been Morgan Blackhand, could’ve been a mind game.”

My mind tried to reconcile everything I had ever seen about Mr. Blue Eyes and mesh it with the idea that the person behind those optics was actually the Morgan Blackhand, Night City’s original living legend. The man whose feud with Adam Smasher practically wrote the city’s early history. Who had also built his rep on the fact that he could pull off impossible gigs and even take in his targets alive when every sane merc would run the other way. Another famous characteristic was that he did all this with minimal cyberware enhancement, only enough to get the job done, in stark contrast with Smasher.

“Maybe the proxy is a way to keep himself in the business. He's, what, maybe a decade older than Rogue?”

“Extrapolated date of birth for Morgan Blackhand is 1988,” Butcher shimmered into view beside us.

“Rogue can still kick ass, as you well know,” Johnny shook his head. “Even if Blackhand was now a portly asshole in a trenchcoat, still hanging on, he’s good, V. In a contest, no question, he’d kick both our asses. The proxy just makes it worse, because now he’s got state of the art cyber and bioware, neatly sidestepping the cyberpsychosis risk and if someone with his experience and skill is driving it…”

“Yeah, so let’s not piss off Blackhand and hope he never gets a contract on our heads.”

“Blackhands’ services are currently bought out by Night Corp, which at this point is a de facto arm of the AI you refer to as Tentacle,” Butcher declared factually.

“And you know this, how?”

“I asked Tentacle directly. As it is part of the Coalition, there is no reason to overly prohibit data exchange.”

“And Tentacle won’t at some point decide to send Blackhand our way?”

Butcher openly tilted his head, as if listening. “As you are not working against the Coalition, it calculates no necessity now or in the immediate future to terminate your existence.”

“Good to know,” I said dryly, waving my hand to bring up the data shard that Blue/Blackhand had given us.

A virtu representation appeared of a Japanese woman, 1.69 meters tall, built slenderly and wearing a rather stylish black and gray panelled labsuit that clung nicely to curved hips and a full bosom, featuring the Mitsubishi logo on her left chest in a rather understated fashion. Her short asymmetrical hair featured a neon-green streak, whilst her optics glowed a lurid bright blue. There were clear subdermal implants visible on her hands and forearms, whilst she had the standard neural link firmware visible on her left temple and behind her left ear. 

Blue had even managed to get a fairly complete personnel dossier on her.

Born in Chiba, Japan, Matsui was one of the once in a generation prodigies and specialized in particle physics, earning her PhD at Tokyo University by 22. Recruited directly by Mitsubishi to begin work in 2072 on their gravity research. First working out of their orbital torus station that was at the L5 lagrange point and finally shifted her work to Luna when the research facility under Tycho was fully operational.

Now five years of work later and apparently there had been a major breakthrough in the original limitations that grav tech had encountered. The precise details were obviously not included in her file.

Her psychological indicators were a problem, however.

Her primary trait was an obsessiveness, often working beyond recommended safe limits in her ‘goal to conquer gravity’. Given what I knew about the work week that corpos mandated for their staff and having been part of that rat race, she was going beyond what even they considered reasonable. She was also described as an idealist, someone who wanted to use gravity control technology to make life on Luna safer. To allow highriders to have children without extensive medical intervention or forcing prospective mothers into orbital spin stations for the duration of their pregnancy.

“Yeah, somewhat glad we’re not going up to this one, at first,” Johnny grimaced. “She’d just as likely shoot us before we even got a word in.”

He was referring to another note in her file about a rather healthy paranoia in my own opinion. It was a problem for the Mitsubishi execs, but I didn’t see an issue when you backed up your data off-site and didn’t even tell your bosses where you hid it. She even had a chutzpah to dare them to fire her. She had literally made herself the Golden Goose, which was not a good thing as the upcoming Militech kidnapping attempt made clear.  

So far she had stayed under the radar by cloistering herself in her lab and only leaving for corpo worker housing when she actually wanted to sleep in a proper bed.

She had no run-ins with Tycho PD, nor any highrider workgroups, that this file indicated at least.

“Butcher, got anything in cyberspace on her that’s not in this file?”

“Stand by, yes, it seems that she is not without contacts or external allies. She has engaged the services of Lucy Kushinada to scrub her movements and data as much as possible. It’s likely that she has also assisted in the creation of the research data vaults. It is a logical conclusion therefore that the Highriders are also a primary sponsor of this research.”

“It’s not as if Mitsubishi could build a ‘secret’ lab under this city without their cooperation and labor either,” I nodded in agreement.

A gesture waved away the form of the scientist and brought up the location of the Mitsubishi-Sugo Lunar R&D Division.

It was roughly two hectares of space, excavated twenty meters further below the publicly known lowest level of the city. It featured its own power generation and oxygen crackers from water that it carefully siphoned off the main city supply. The entrance was, in a rather straightforward fashion, in the public Mitsubishi-Sugo building in the east of the city. Where a hidden elevator would take down the scientists into the R&D division.

“All right, we can safely bet that the Militech snatch team will not try anything near there, so they’re going to set up along the route to her apartment.”

I traced out a winding stretch of 160 meters through Tycho’s lower level streets, straight towards the apartment building.

“Grabbing her en route is risky, too many variables, witnesses, cams they don’t have access to without stepping on toes. No, they’ll grab her outside the apartment, likely coming home when she’s tired and less alert.”

Johnny’s tone was flat, clearly thinking of his own experience of watching Alt get ‘snatched’ after getting ambushed outside a club.

“They can’t know exactly when she’ll come back. We have to assume they have the same intel we have. So they’ll be doing a stakeout of the place, putting the pieces in place. Once they have her, the exfil off Luna has to be in place beforehand. They can’t sit on their hands with their package whilst they wait for an OA transport.” I began to grin as a notion occurred to me.

“Got a plan, V?” Johnny smirked knowingly.

“The beginning of one,” I manipulated the holo and dataflows, bringing up the buildings surrounding the corpo apartment. “Now if I were a Militech snatch team, where would I hole up?”

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The answer wasn’t easy to get.

Corpo extraction squads were usually recruited from the best that their military had to offer, but they were not THE best, because they also were ultimately expendable and deniable. If things went wrong, in best ass-covering fashion the manager responsible would be ready to cut the cord and have all the evidence on hand framing a rival corp for the mess. If the false flag play was not an option, the corp would also be ready to sanitize the soldiers used - erasing everything that ever showed that Sergeant Spec Ops had ever worked for Militech.

It was also why extraction squads had every motivation to do their utmost to not fuck up and would fight tooth and nail to the death. They would cover their tracks and lead you down a maze of obfuscation in meat and cyberspace. Normally, it would’ve been almost impossible for your typical edgerunner to breach through that obfuscation, but unfortunately for this Militech team, they were dealing with a merc whose former job at Arasaka had been all about Counter-Intel.

It had been my job to keep an eye on every employee who had the potential to be aggressively poached or on those who were looking to get poached and stop it from happening.

Common sense would say that the Militech snatch team would find a neighboring building that gave a direct line of sight on Matsui’s apartment and set up surveillance.

That was amateur hour.

Anyone trying to find the team there, would only find an occupied apartment with a very pissed off and surprised Driftkin inside. The apartment would’ve been bugged by the snatch team and they’d know immediately they were being hunted and that the gig was up. 

Now the challenge was to follow the data pathing of those bugs and do so without the Militech netrunner assigned to the team becoming aware of it.

And I immediately knew that the specific runner assigned to this was very good.

The data trails seemed to go in every direction in cyberspace, only to be bounced through signal routers and random servers all over Luna, before going out into orbit, only to come right back. It was like looking at a bowl of synthnoodles from the streetvendor at my old H10 Megabuilding, stretched into multiple dimensions. If that wasn’t bad enough, they had left quite sophisticated spyware daemons looking specifically for anyone trying to trace them.

I had to remind myself that these were the same people who had managed to train Songbird.

Now, this runner was nowhere near that level of sheer talent, but I could practically smell the tech and millions of eddies that had gone into training them.

Their daemons were good, but I was better.

I remained invisible to each one, seeing their scanning algorithms and adapting as I went. Eventually getting a feel for how this runner coded them. Some of them were also not their work, clearly programmed by an entire team slaving away at some cubicle somewhere in Militech HQ in Washington DC.

It was a cookie cutter patchwork daemon that was even easier to subvert once you had solved any of its constituent parts.

Finally, between Butcher and myself we narrowed down a location.

“Got to admire the balls on this crew,” Johnny instantiated next to us in cyberspace as we surveyed the vast city of digital systems that controlled Tycho Mass Driver 2, located in the southern area of the crater.

I made an expansive gesture with my avatar’s arm, pulling in the data flow and manipulating our perspective, zooming in until we were looking at the Militech extraction team.

They were all posing as maintenance workers with perfectly forged credentials, holed up in an out of sight, disused storage area that had old maintenance tunnels not used since the original supporting construction for the Mass Driver had taken place. Any surveillance cameras that the highriders could’ve used to detect this team were long since broken, the hardlines cut or just plain neglected and forgotten about.

The only reason we could even see them was because we were using the Militech team’s own modernized sensors that they installed on their way in.

There were nine agents.

A surprisingly built male netrunner, who didn’t neglect his meatspace body, still jacked into a very fancy semi-portable rig and server combo, blissfully unaware and confident they were still invisible and no one had caught them.

Two teams of four Militech spec ops, dressed in scruffy vacsuit overalls and open helmets, wearing the logo of a known contractor that worked on the giant electromagnets of the Mass Driver.

Some were jacked into localized braindance wreaths, that I would bet was rehearsing dozens of different extraction scenarios that had been wargamed. Others were doing equipment checks and weapon maintenance.

Butcher threw up what personnel profiles he could reference from a bootlegged and copied Militech database. It wouldn’t be totally up to date or completely accurate, but it was enough for us to understand just who we were dealing with.

Unsurprisingly, all of them were veterans of the 2070 Unification War.

Military grade chrome was the norm, but not the latest stuff. If this bunch were killed, their corpses had to tell the correct story. Surprise, speed and preparation was their primary weapon and it had been breached and nullified.

With surprise on our side, It would be a walk in the park for me and Johnny to fight these guys in meatspace.

Just how Militech had sprung the leak to Night Corp and Blackhand was something I’d dearly like to know, but I accepted that it was far from my own biz at the moment.

Now the question was how to get this specific team out of play.

We were hired to protect Dr. Matsui in all respects, so she could continue her work. Blackhand had not specified how we should do it or that we couldn’t eventually bring in others.

“Loud or quiet, you think?” I asked Johnny.

He played with his avatar’s beard idly as he thought about it, “They’ve conveniently put themselves into a spot that’s perfect for loud. We won't have to worry about bringing Tycho PD down on our heads, as long as we don't fuck up.”

“Any reason to go non-lethal here?” I asked out of formality. My old Counter-Intel instincts always preferred to catch, interrogate, then dispose only if necessary.

“These gonks are dead already V. Whether by our hand or being disappeared by their bosses for the fuck up. We can at least give them a quick one.”

“Fine. Butcher, put your best crawlers, deamons and spyware to watch over the good doctor. Let’s go.”

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Getting to the Militech team subtly without sending up red flags of our own was its own challenge.

We couldn’t go loaded for bear, with armored vacsuits and military rated weaponry, traipsing through Tycho City, unless we wanted to bring the highriders to the party. I wanted to hold off on that, even though it was assuredly in their interest to also protect Matsui. The problem was we couldn’t know what taps and back channels the Militech runner had into highrider communications. It was almost certain that they would have, as it's what I would do as a priority were I in the shoes of this snatch team.

So Johnny and I left our apartment looking Tycho-city casual - and I finally had a top that didn’t show underboob for days.

We also had our rail pistols disassembled and tucked into our respective Samurai jackets, which I had lined with scan resistant materials. The other bit of kit that we wore around our necks was emergency vac collars - which would essentially burst into a rudimentary pressure suit around our bodies in case of potential decompression. They were generally shit and you could barely move properly once they did their thing, but at least you wouldn’t die. That would be more of a worry for Johnny though, as I could technically have a naked jog outside so long as I had a proper pressurized oxygen source covering my head.

Job number one of this gig, involved losing our very well intentioned highrider tails that took their orders from Gakulu.

We managed that with a double back maneuver, a little quickhack to induce a distraction in a city vending machine and judicious use of a crowd, just before we hit the lifts to the upper levels of the city.

From there it was a matter of hacking every surveillance camera as we moved, effectively turning us invisible to every algorithm and Mark One eyeball looking at the screens.

I knew disappearing like this would send up some red flags of its own, but we’d face the inevitable inquisition after this was done.

On the surface level, we continued using crowd blending techniques, until we reached the southern industrial sectors.

The partially buried tubes that connected the central public domes to the industrial domes were access controlled with minimal oversight from any guards, which made it easy to hack and waltz straight through as if we both belonged to the place. Sure we weren’t in any sort of hard vac suit or overall, but we knew how to walk in a way that said we belonged there.

We ducked into a security door that I unlocked with a quickhack and found ourselves in a minor server junction for the local control and sensor systems of the corridor. It was half the size of my old H10 apartment and we ignored all the screens and server blades in favor of the secured hatch in the floor.

Johnny put his Gorilla Arms to use and ripped the thing straight off, quickhacking the local sensors moments before he had done the deed.

“Cutting it close there, Johnny.”

He shrugged and began reaching into his jacket to reassemble his iron.

I followed his example and a quick dry fire confirmed it worked, before we loaded our magazines and jumped down the hatch.

The drop was nearly twenty-nine feet. Easily done on Luna, but I lightly grabbed hold of the ladder to slow the speed down to the extent that I barely needed to bend my knees.

A quick check in either direction showed we had no company. This was an active maintenance tunnel festooned with piping that was pushing water, oxygen, treated sewerage and others in both directions.  

We took the southerly direction, pistols raised and I had a cornucopia of quickhacks queued and ready to fly.

The maze of passageways down here was enough to make anyone dizzy, unless you had the latest map data streaming into your digital consciousness.

The key was to get to the point where the Militech team had gone off the map to hide themselves.

Thankfully, they had been so helpful in creating physical data taps into the city’s systems to get their own access point, which nicely pointed to the first location we would check out.

After nearly half a dozen turns and tearing our way through locked doors, we finally hit the first paydirt.

The data links were physically well hidden behind ducting and pipes, but with our digital senses in cyberspace referencing meatspace coordinates and my internal scanning suite, it was a cakewalk. It was also the spot where a makeshift door had been created, leading directly into the abandoned sections of the tunnel network.

‘All right, Johnny. The air in here might be a problem, so keep an eye on your biometrics. I’ll be the canary and take point.’

A quick scan showed a rudimentary sensor that would send an alert to our quarry that their door had been opened.

I brought my left hand carefully forward and lit its tooling function unfurl.

My forefinger split open, dividing and dividing down to maniples that at their smallest was just about the width of a human hair. It was the world’s fanciest multi-function tool knife and was the more advanced version of Toolhand cyberware. A few minutes later, I had the sensor cut open and laid bare, whilst crucially still sending its all clear signal. A bypass later and I had it looping.

A quick grab and pull later, and the makeshift door easily opened.

The abandoned tunnel adjacent was in utter darkness and we had to move to IR assisted DNV to make any sense of what was ahead.

Another quick scan had me freeze dead still and block the way.

‘Don’t move, Johnny. Motion sensor down the tunnel.’

‘Fuck.’

One hack later and it was spoofed.

We finally moved forward into the tunnel, turning off our mag boots. It was just too risky as it would be child’s play to rig a sensor into the tunnel grid floor to register that someone was coming. This slowed us down considerably, forcing us to adopt a cat-like walk, moderating how much force we put onto the ground and to keep our own footsteps silent.

Sneaking around on the moon was a bitch.

It took long minutes just to traverse that first corridor and our first turn at the intersection revealed more fun surprises from the Militech team, a heat sig and seismic sensor combo, tuned for a human footstep.

A hack later and we were moving past that.

That was just the beginning and it felt like I was essentially doing the Konpeki Plaza heist, but on the fly and taking on the role of Solo and Runner in one.

Three hours of tense sneaking and hacking passed by. Even though we had passed by the dense concentration of portable sensors the Militech team had left to watch their six, we couldn’t afford to get sloppy.

Finally, a bright light in the distant end of the tunnel and at that moment everything shook, shaking lunar dust loose. A rumbling cacophony that seemed to penetrate into the very marrow of our bones, before dying down.

‘Well, looks like we’re near the Mass Driver,’ Johnny commented.

We were very close now to the team’s position and with the light came the first standard security cam they had installed. I had to spoof and loop this one, taking extra care. The runner was bound to be keeping a much closer eye on the security of their inner perimeter.

‘Dr. Matsui has left the Mitsubishi building and is heading to her apartment,’ Butcher reported.

I could feel the data flow from the enemy runner pick up significantly as he turned his attention towards the surveillance they had on their target.

‘How fortunate for us, keeps him looking outward,’ I smirked.

We knelt on either side of the door that, unlike others we had passed, showed signs of being cleaned and didn’t have a sprinkling of lunar regolith.

A final check on the position of each Militech agent.

The room beyond was a fairly large depot, storage for the handheld excavation power tools. A dozen empty large racks from floor to ceiling, which had been pushed to the side, leaving open space for the team to spread out their gear and even make a little home away from home.

Couches in one corner, rations spread over a table. The netrunner and his rig were in another corner, but in the center of the room was a large ovoid device that I couldn’t make heads or tails of at first. Then I spotted the ablative shielding on one side and took in the clear aerodynamic lines.

A single occupant atmospheric reentry vehicle, with two of the agents standing around it and performing system checks.

‘Hmmm, think that is for Matsui. They stuff her in there, sedative running. Next thing she knows she’s waking up on Earth. But they’re not getting that thing on any ship. Highriders and Mitsubishi will lock Tycho down first.’

‘Militech knows that, Johnny. So they’re not going to use a ship.’ I pointed above our heads as the tunnel rumbled from the shot of another Mass Driver load.

‘That’s fucking crazy. The Mass Driver? They’re gonna load her in it? She’ll get turned into salsa from the acceleration.’

‘Yet they’re still clearly going to do it, so they must have a way to make it survivable. Makes me curious what tech Militech has cooked up for it. All right, netrunner in his chair and three on the left, two in the middle, three on the right. I go left, you right, Short Circuit first, make sure you use my version so we turn them into walking EMPs. Malfunctions will take their guns out of play, so they’re going to charge us down if we fuck up.’

‘Got it.’

I stood carefully and took a slow step back from the door, readying my right leg.

‘On three… one… two… three!’

My foot drove forward with the full force available to my combat Gemini.

The old steel door was torn off its runners, out of its track and sent forward like a spinning battering ram.

It had enough speed and momentum imparted on it to cover the distance all the way to the other side of the depot.

It encountered the two Militech agents working on the pod first, practically bowling them over.

With our Sandy’s on full cognitive acceleration, Johnny powered into the room.

My first shot found the side of the runner’s head, whilst the Short Circuit washed over a brawny agent carrying a rifle near the team’s small arsenal.

He started immediately shuddering, convulsing, visible arcs playing over his body and the EMP radiated outwards, catching the nearby agent as well.

Johnny’s first shot blew the head apart of another opponent, sending blood and gray matter outward in a small expanding cone that expanded outwards under our accelerated perception, helped by the low-grav environment.

A second Short Circuit induced EMP hit his side of the room.

I put the agent convulsing out of his misery with another head shot as Johnny found another mark.

That left three members of the opposition free to react, only one of which had a Sandy, which military grade reflex enhancement activated.

He pulled out his own pistol, aiming straight for me but his eyes widened as his weapon failed to fire.

Instead, he got to watch in slow motion as the rail pistol’s battery overheated and exploded with an actinic flash in his hands.

The hypersonic bullet from my pistol went straight through his skull sponge, ending the threat.

The two on the ground from the impromptu use of the door as a battering ram, were bringing up their own pistols, aiming on both me and Johnny. 

It was only now that I could overcome the sheer physics of what I had done, the friction of my boots and my legs exerting just enough force to launch me forward into a dive.

My next shot caught the prone agent on the left, boring through his neck first before entering his brain case from below.

Johnny got the final guy on the right as I reached the prone agent.

My elbow rammed into his neck, powering and cracking through the military bone lacing, severing the spinal cord.

Synapse Burnouts from both Johnny and I got the final agent, leaving him dead with cooked nerves.

Not wanting to get a faceful of dusty lunacrete as my dive was reaching its natural conclusion, I pushed my hands forward and tucked into a roll.

Our Sandy’s lapsed and went on cooldown.

I surged to my feet and scanned the entire room quickly for further threats, right to left, pistol leading the way.

Only a single survivor and he was unconscious on the floor from Johnny’s Short Circuit.

‘Need this guy to talk, V?’

I considered it for a moment. ‘No.’

The room echoed with another shot.

“Butcher, status?”

“No change, Dr. Matsui remains nominal.”  

“Good, now time to face the music.”

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Gakulu power walked into the room, his mag boots almost groaning, echoing harshly with the clatter of steel on steel.

His eyes roamed over the specialist team from his black ops workgroup, taking notes and making sure they were doing their job in processing the very sensitive scene. Examining the bodies of the slain Militech agents and scouring their onboard cyberware for useful intel. His own netrunner was already partially plugged into the Militech server rig, using a secondary cyberdeck as a quarantine to carefully sift through the data, whilst also battling the on-board ICE.

Something that was not as lethal as it would otherwise, without a hostile runner fighting you.

His eyes flashed as he saw me kneeling next to the reentry pod, along with Johnny casually leaning against it.

My physical interface plug was hooked into it and I was rather fascinated by the hardware I was scanning.

“V, Hollow,” Gakulu said through gritted teeth. “Do you want to know how you ruined my morning?”

“I can imagine well enough, Manager. Giving my minders a thorough reprimand for losing me and a complete review of the security around Dr. Matsui? 

“Precisely! A name you shouldn’t even know!” He stopped the head of steam he was working up and took a calming breath. Judging by the reactions of the highriders in the room, they were very relieved that their boss was reigning himself in and not demanding heads. “Start at the beginning.”

“We were hired to protect Dr. Matsui. Naturally, I can’t tell you by whom. Our client became aware of an in-progress operation by Militech to try and abduct Matsui from Tycho. We were in a prime position and time to intervene, so we did so. Better to do it now, rather than risking this lot to carry out their plan and having to deal with a kidnap and rescue scenario. I hate those, one unlucky bullet and the whole gig is blown. As it is, these guys had a very high chance of actually pulling it off.” I unplugged my link from the pod and patted its matt black surface. “This Earth capable reentry vehicle can seat one person and is designed to not only keep the occupant sedated, but also immerses them in a fluid oxygen environment. Combine that with a single-use High G compensator that burns itself out, and you have the perfect means to escape Tycho and Luna, by using the Mass Driver. After all, what’s the one thing you would never think to shut down in a scenario where you’re locking down the spaceports after Matsui falls off the grid?”

Gakulu closed his eyes and cursed rapidly under his breath. “One of the primary reasons that the Highrider economy remains afloat. I don’t suppose we can conclusively prove this was Militech?”

“Sorry umphati, (boss)” the highrider netrunner shook his head. “The groundsiders came prepared. The moment V flatlined this runner, it let loose a virus that scrubbed everything on this rig. Deadman switches on the cyberware. Only reason we can tell that they’re Militech is their IDs and work history, but they’re not officially employed.”

“Yes, I suppose it was too much to hope that they’d be sloppy for once. All right Lizo, I want this entire place scanned, catalogued and then scrubbed. All records classified to Mfusa level.”

“Understood, umphati.”

Gakulu beckoned us to follow.

Once we were walking outside he folded his hands behind his back, “Do you know the importance of Dr. Matsui’s research?”

I considered playing my cards close to the chest. Every professional instinct I had told me to keep on being the mercenary, only hired to do the job, never told why. Yet for some reason, Blackhand had given us the ‘why’. The man who was the posterchild, the original standard for what it meant to be a merc, had told us the reason for our gig.

Was the man going soft in his advanced age? Or was he seeing something about all this that we weren’t?

“Yes.”

“Hayi suka, (Oh, come on),” he muttered under his breath. “Now, don’t misunderstand me, V, Hollow. You have my personal gratitude and that of the Highrider Confed for foiling this plot. However, you’ve just been pushed into a level of classification that no one besides the upper echelons have any business being in. That your client knows is already a disaster of epic proportions. It means we have a greater security leak that needs to be plugged. There is still a part of me that wants to throw you both into interrogation.”

“Then do the next best thing, recruit us.”

He actually chuckled, “Looking to get paid twice for the same job? Not surprising. The problem is, I don’t know if your client won’t at some point issue instructions that run contrary to highrider interests.”

“That’s a possibility,” I admitted with a shrug. “But how about if I agree that we will give you a warning should such instructions come from the client. It would allow you to prepare and work around us.”

Gakulu frowned and for a while we just walked as he thought about the offer. “Maybe. Tell me at least this, do you think your client is looking to eventually gain sole control of Matsui and the technology she’s working on?”

“They definitely want to see it developed and succeed. Whether they want monopoly… I honestly don’t know.”

“Very well. Consider yourselves recruited. Standard fees with potential extreme hazard ops bonuses. You know that if Matsui succeeds, it’ll be a game changer not just for the highriders, but a number of other industries. Corps will want it for themselves and will not be interested in sharing. Combine that with the new iteration of Relic and we’re sitting on two golden eggs, V and the wolves have already started circling around.”

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A/N: More plots and interests afoot that you can shake a stick at. It's cyberpunk, after all. Hope you enjoyed and have an awesome weekend!

The Force Wills - Chapter 137

I waved off Captain Typho as he took Padme’s senatorial speeder back into the distant air lanes that surrounded the Jedi Temple.

For a moment, I stood rooted to my spot, only feeling the wind that blasted over the primary landing platform of the Temple.

It was so nice to be on a planet, that deep down in my heart, I considered a home. Yes, Coruscant was in many respects a horrible place from many points of view, but I had grown up here in the Temple. Nothing could replace those formative years. Naboo and Concordia were my second homes, at some point I would probably hold more immediate fondness for both.

I grabbed my backpack and war chest, shouldered the former, engaged the repulsors of the latter and walked into the primary Temple hangar.

This early in the morning it was its usual bustle, with contractors and Jedi working on more than a dozen different ships - the rattle of power tools, welders, the hum of overhead tractor beams moving heavy equipment and hull panels. Most Jedi here were too busy to even look in my direction, though I could feel the odd probe through the Force as the more sensitive ones sent their perceptions in my direction.

I could probably do more to rein in my Force presence, but I was just too weary at the moment - not in body, but in spirit. Yes, just coming from a two week vacation to Zeltros should’ve relaxed anyone, but a crash course on the Matukai arts was not a holiday. So while all my primary masking and stealth was in place, the training under Master Kohl had pushed me considerably further than what I had bargained on. It was an ongoing effort to moderate myself and most of it had been done on the four day journey to Coruscant.

Beyond the hangar, I walked into the pristine and serene majestic hallways of the temple - which I couldn’t help but feel I was disturbing in some manner. Sure, it wasn’t everyday that I walked in my beskar’gam (minus the helmet) through these halls, but I hadn’t come back in my own ship to leave it behind.  

Most of the Jedi I passed didn’t blink twice, but a few adepts and younglings outright gawped and stared as I went about my way.

Their hushed whispers naturally carried to my montrals despite their attempts to be discreet.

“Is that-?”

“Yes, the Mandalorian Jedi…”

“It’d be so wizard if she could teach our class.”

“It’d definitely be better than-”

“Hush, you realize as a togruta, she doesn’t even need the Force to hear you two,” said a young female adept pointedly.

Naturally, I couldn’t resist that moment, turning my head to give them a pointed side-eye.

They quickly scampered to catch up to the rest of their class.

The journey to Anakin’s temple quarters was a relaxed amble, which I firmly fixed in memory, enjoying every moment. Too much was in flux and I had to treasure the temple as it was now. The war was nearing the end of its second year and the critical moment was looming ever closer.

I paused at the door, my hand hovering over the controls, before I chuckled and used the Force on the internal locking mechanisms, letting the ID scanner also do its thing.

“Should I even bother getting unpacked, Master Yoda?” I asked, stepping inside.

Yoda was in his usual beige leggings and tunic, seated on a meditation cushion with his gimer stick in his lap and patiently waiting.

His high-pitched throaty laugh echoed in the apartment and green-gold eyes twinkled at me. “Urgent, this is not, Padawan Tano. Only leave again, in two days, you will.”

“Not that long, but I’ll take it,” I grinned and quickly hurried into my own room.

I dumped everything and took the time to don my version of Jedi attire.

When I sat down on the opposite meditation cushion from Yoda, the diminutive grandmaster was staring at me with narrowed curious eyes. “Hmm, the Force has changed in you. Grown yet stirring along new paths. Paths that are also old. Many centuries since I saw it last.”

I folded my hands on my lap and only nodded. Trust Yoda to figure it out in mere seconds.

“Much time we will soon have to discuss. Yes. Now, other duty and training for you, I have. The Gathering you must oversee.”

Ah.

One of the most sacred rites that Jedi adepts underwent during their journey through training, which firmly put them on the path to padawan. It was a coming of age moment, where young Jedi were also sent for the first time and into the wild currents of the galaxy with supervision.

Having undergone my own Gathering rite, I knew what to do in general, but there was much behind the scenes that also went into it, which was why Yoda was here.

“So you’ll be teaching me hyperspace navigation?”

“Yes, begin immediately we shall. Know you do, that in the Force, time, space, can matter little. In hyperspace, even more so. A sufficiently trained Jedi, see a ship’s path they can, guide it from danger, find the narrow safe path between singularity, planet, black hole.”

Yoda held out his clawed hand, palm up.

I raised my hand and laid it on his without hesitation.

In the blink of an eye, we were no longer in the Jedi Temple or on Coruscant.

Our minds were in an infinite blue-white expanse.

At first it was totally featureless, but then when my perceptions had adjusted I realized that in the far distance, a smooth upward curve or ‘gradient’ nearly 12 000 kilometers away stretched ‘up’. How I knew that was another question as it just popped into my mind the moment I thought about it. It was as if I was literally remembering or just knowing, because I had always known and would know.

‘Careful you must be,’ Yoda told me. ‘Focus. Dangerous it is. Lose yourself, you will.’

I could only agree as I was seeing the influence of Coruscant’s gravity on hyperspace. 

Yoda’s mind grabbed my own and with a deliberate will, we were pushing our senses through hyper and a moment earlier… or was it later? Our perspective was of the entire star system.

‘When navigating, your anchor, even more critical it is. It must be not just the ship, but also the hyperdrive itself. Use it almost like a lightsaber, you must…’

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Thankfully, whilst hyper navigation through the Force was something you could take a lifetime to immerse yourself in its intricacies and you could make your career as a Jedi navigator in the Explorer corps, it wasn’t so difficult that you had to train years for a general proficiency. Yoda had shown me the way, let me experience hundreds of memories of successful navigation which he himself had undertaken with various ships.

He had even taken me down into the bowels of the temple, where the Explorer division had a hyperdrive mockup simulator that only partially interfaced with the other dimension. Enough for sensors and data to let a prospective navigator know whether they had properly ‘driven’ the hyperdrive or crashed the ship into a star.

That done, they had me interface with it and simulate the hyper navigation I would need to achieve to properly travel to our destination of Ilum.

My first try was obviously a nasty failure - smacking the simulated ship straight into a pulsar.

The damn thing was so pretty in hyperspace and my distraction had cost me.

It took me three more tries before I successfully pulled off a flawless emergence outside a simulated mass shadow of a planet.

Then I resolved to take a full day of prep time, just strapped into the simulator and doing an Ilum run, over and over.

I was eventually kicked out of the simulator by the very annoyed sullustan Jedi who ran the thing, when even he had enough of my little bout of OCD. 

It was just as well, because the organizing of the ship that would take us to Ilum was also on my agenda.

The Crucible was a truly ancient Paladin-class corvette that literally dated back to the Old Republic. It was kept in good enough upkeep by the Jedi Order that it could make this journey every standard year. The blueprints for every part were kept in the Archives and the creation of more was a journeyman level project for any Jedi whose studies carried them into the realm of mechanics. It was a flying museum and the only parts which hadn’t been replaced at some point, was the central superstructure. It still used the Old Republic Jedi Order symbology in many places.

It was just under a hundred meters long and had a flattened hammerhead fore section, which smoothly narrowed to three blisters at the waist which used to have medium turbolaser turrets. Those had long since been removed and any idea of refitting them with much more power hungry, modern weapons always failed because it would mean changing the main reactor entirely to support it.

Next came the port and starboard docking ports, which transitioned into the blocky rear engineering hull, where a cluster of six main engine nacelle thrusters was housed in an old alternating up-down configuration.  

It stood on its landing struts in the main temple hangar with a quiet, humble authority, in defiance against even time itself. Its presence was also attracting quite a small crowd of Jedi and mechanics who were admiring the old workhorse in its understated silver, beige and red color scheme.

Only the most senior Jedi mechanics were allowed to work on her, and the dedicated team of eight were all already busy in and around the hull, making last minute preparations and scans.

“Master Hinalu,” I bowed to the short bothan with tawny fur wearing a brown, stained greasy overall and a toolbelt, who was looking at what looked like a broken part of a fuel pump rather fiercely.

“Ah, Padawan Tano, about time you arrived.” He bowed in return, seemingly friendly enough on the surface, yet I caught the slightest hint of suspicion he had towards me for some reason. Now why would the Temple’s chief starship mechanic be that way? Or was I just picking up on the natural bothan tendency towards such paranoia? “Master Faabb down in Navigation was beginning to think you’d need to be cut out of the simulator with a lightsaber.”

I chuckled, letting myself blush a bit, “Yes, got a bit carried away. The idea of getting lost thousands of light years away from the nearest hyperlane because of a mistake on my part, got to me somewhat.”

“I trust you worked through that mental block?” he asked, his violet eyes intent. “I will not be signing off on you taking the Crucible otherwise.”

“I did, eventually, master,” I said with simple honesty. My own past was to blame really, as my brain latched onto the various ‘lost in space’ scenarios and fictions I had seen, read and within this life there was also no shortage of similar incidents in history - usually a result of poor maintenance on a hyperdrive or a nav-computer malfunction.

Hinalu carefully and politely probed me through the Force to gauge my words, before nodding, “Good, so far everything is on schedule. We had a fuel pump malfunction yesterday during testing, which has been our primary focus, but it will be solved by the time of your departure tomorrow.”

“How are the shields?”

“Nominal. Why do you ask?”

“We are at war, Master.”

“You are going west, padawan. Far from the front lines. Ilum is practically in the Unknown Regions.”

“There has been some recent intelligence that the Separatists are stepping up their campaigns to arm and sponsor piracy against Republic shipping and interests.”

This was not exactly a new tactic and we had dealt with it before. This intelligence had come from Master Kohl, who had been fighting such a pirate band for months in southern Outer Rim. I had passed that on to Master Yoda, trusting him to be discreet in how it was obtained.

“Interesting, but since you are going to the Namadii Corridor, where there is nothing of value for pirates… Well, to be on the safe side I’ll see what I can do to strengthen the shields to modern standards. Perhaps a new phase inverter attached to the generator with a supplementary power core will do the trick.”

“It’s your ship, Master,” I said gracefully with a bow. 

“Hmph, and don’t you forget it, Padawan. I want her back in pristine condition.”

I walked up the main embarkation ramp and practically breathed in the history that this ship had seen. With my own growth in the Force, since I had walked these old corridors during my own Gathering, I could almost feel and see the memories in every inch of the ship’s panelling, floor and furniture. I wasn’t talented with psychometry at all and yet it was still bleeding through. The Crucible had seen hundreds of thousands Force-Sensitive passengers through thousands of years of history and every inch of the ship dripped with memory. Master Vos, as the foremost practitioner of psychometry, must’ve been practically drowned in the feedback during his own Gathering.

My first destination was the main cargo hold and checking on the food stores.

There were going to be seven organics, including myself, to feed on this journey and only one of them was human. A quick reference to each species of Jedi adept coming aboard, quickly showed that the ship was lacking enough food for ithorians.

I fired off a quick message to the Jedi Temple commissary and grinned when I sensed someone trying to be sneaky.

“Professor Huyang,” I greeted and turned to two lines of packed crates and the darkened passage between them.

The ancient yet pristine architect droid relit his two golden visual receptors set in a regally designed face, with a vestigial nose, mouth and a structure that even imitated having a beard, whilst two pronounced cones served for ears and he was even wearing an imitation cap.

“Padawan Tano,” greeted Huyang, stepping into the light, which glinted off his very capable 1.8 meter tall frame with silver plating. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for literal centuries. May I see it?”

One didn’t need Holmes level deduction to know what the architect was speaking about or asking for.

I put down the datapad, reached to the small of my back and held out the unique hilt of the Darksaber.

He stepped forward and I could sense the caution every inch of his silver body as he reached down and carefully took the weapon from my hand.

An extra set of sensors popped out of Huyang’s forehead to cover his right eye as he intently inspected the unique weapon built by Tarre Viszla, under his own supervision more than nine centuries ago.

“Hmmm, surprisingly good condition, despite being in the hands of non-sensitives for so long.”

“For the first century, the Vizsla kept it in the secure vault of Concordia since they raided the Jedi Temple for it. It then began being used in various traditional ceremonies, passing through many hands and wielders. It was only in the last three generations and Pre Vizsla in particular, that he openly wore and used the Darksaber.”

“Awful lapse of security on our part,” Huyang turned the hilt over, inspecting the curved emitter. “We told the Mandalorians that Tarre Vizsla decreed in his will that the Darksaber should remain in the Temple museum.”

“Mandalorian tradition holds that every warrior’s armor and weapon must enter their tomb. Tarre undoubtedly knew that his clan or the succeeding Manda’lor would not merely accept a will dictated to the Jedi as binding. From their point of view, it might as well have been falsified or merely a lie to keep the Darksaber from its rightful place.”

“Troublesome boy,” Huyang scoffed.

I nodded, “In so doing, by orchestrating the raid on whom the majority of his people still considered the old enemy, he effectively created a legend and symbol that every traditional Mandalorian still holds to. The leadership falls to the true holder of the Darksaber.”

The droid held the hilt parallel to the floor and ignited the blade.

Huyang titled his head, “Fascinating, the blade itself is exerting enough kinetic force on my arm with precision to make it totally impossible to use effectively. I can hold it up, but if I tried to make any attack, I’d likely damage my arm in the process.”

“The Darksaber is effectively its own kyber-based entity at this point. It judges those who would wield it. If they’re found wanting or if they gained it without ritual combat to the death from the previous bearer, then it will not allow itself to be wielded.”

“Remarkable. It’s rare for any lightsaber to survive long if it’s used often throughout its builder’s life. After a Jedi’s death, if the weapon survives it’s usually kept in the Museum archives, shielded and only seen. Perhaps because this weapon has seen so many active wielders and because of its unique kyber crystal, that it has essentially become what it is now. If we passed on a Jedi lightsaber for long enough, perhaps a similar entity would be born.”

“That’s exactly what would happen,” I confirmed with a vehemence that caused Huyang to tilt his head in curiosity.

“You are in contact constantly with this kyber entity, Padawan?”

“Comes with the territory of being its wielder,” I nodded and listened to the Darksaber briefly. “It remembers you somewhat, as Tarre came to you for help in its early maintenance.”

“Oh, how I wish I could study this more,” Huyang gave with a very organic sigh and shut down the blade before carefully putting it back in my hand. “But I doubt the Darksaber would appreciate it or allow it - knowing how I feel about others doing the same to me.”

I nodded in agreement. Huyang was one of the oldest droids in the galaxy that was currently known. Even HK was a spring chicken in comparison to the architect droid’s twenty-five thousand standard years or 17 043 years according to the traditional Coruscant calendar. Therefore, he was a natural subject of curiosity and study to many Jedi and other academics - especially technologists. Huyang’s base technology, the strata upon which his mind was based, was ancient but not primitive at all. In many respects, he still outclassed every droid built since the Rusaan Reformation, due to the interregnum and tech loss the galaxy suffered in that era.

The Jedi Order would never allow any scientist no matter how skilled or knowledgeable to tamper or crack open Huyang to study him. He was not only invaluable for the history in his mind, but unsurpassed in lightsaber creation and lore. He didn’t have an entirely flawless recounting of the past millennia, having undergone periods of long isolation. He would take a ship and exile himself in the deep void, only returning when he judged the galaxy was reasonably stable or that there was a proper Jedi Order to return to.

“Well, thank you for indulging an old droid, Padawan. I will let you return to the preparations for the Gathering. If you need any advice or help-”

I smiled warmly, “I’ll be sure to knock on your door, Professor.”

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The next morning, I took my first hand at flying the Crucible, guiding it carefully out of the hangar and onto an external pad at the base of the temple. The reason was simple logistics as the corvette took much of the free room available and prevented easy coming and going for other ships. No one wanted to be responsible for an accident with the priceless ship.

That done I changed into my berkar’gam and did a final check of the ship, supplies and other necessities I requisitioned.

“Ready for this M8?” I asked, walking down the extending embarkation ramp.

“Always, mistress.”

A final look at the chrono told me I had managed everything with fifteen minutes to spare.

At only a minute to go, I finally spied a very harried group of six young Jedi adepts rushing out of the temple with backpacks.

I could feel them almost exploding with excitement when they realized that I was the padawan who would be taking them out into the galaxy. The only human, a boy of thirteen, Petro, grabbed Ganodi, a young female rodian and tried very subtly to point to me. She in turn, lightly slapped his arm away, “I know, for Force’s sake,” she hissed.

“Come along, adepts, form a line in front of me,” I said mildly.

The six jumped to obey.

It was almost painful to perceive them through the Force. They had the mildest of mind shielding and as children were wearing their heart on their sleeves. I struggled to recall a time I had ever been that young. Even in this life as a child, I had walked around with guarded thoughts and expressions. Just looking at their bright innocent spirits was enough for me to inwardly get very angry at the tumultuous time they had been born into.

Order 66, the greater crucible for the Jedi and galaxy loomed in the distance.

It wasn’t fair, but more than most, I knew that there was no inherent design for fairness in the universe.

“Adepts Katooni,” I began, a female tholothian, “Zatt,” a young male nautolan who quickly pulled his nose out of a datapad, “Gungi,” a young wookiee who I was gratified in seeing again, “Byph,” a male ithorian who looked very nervous at being under my attention, “Petro and finally Ganodi. You are here for your time of the Gathering, where a Jedi undergoes their greatest challenge and some say the only one that truly matters.”

“What is this challenge?” Gungi grumbled in Shyriiwook.

“That I cannot say, because it would spoil and pollute the challenge. However, I can tell you that afterwards you will learn how to build your own lightsaber.”

I had both my green lightsabers hover off my belt and do a slow orbit of my body.

“Yesss,” hissed Petro, whilst the others had similar exclamations and Gungi even raised a fist to the sky, giving a generalized roar of satisfaction.

“Your excitement is understandable and has been shared by countless who have come before you. Be warned, that you will be undertaking a different kind of journey here and not just in the ship behind me. It will not be easy, there will be perils and the chance of failure is high. Where we are going there is no place more sacred to the Jedi. Understand?”

“Yes, Padawan Tano,” they chorused as a group, whilst Gungi added a grumbling bass with his agreement.

“Good, now we’ll get on board, follow me.”

I led the way up the ramp and began showing them the ship layout and important areas.

“These are the escape pods,” I gestured to the heavy circular doors. “If there is ever an emergency and I tell you to use them. Do not hesitate. Inside them you will find everything you need to survive and at least make planetfall if we’re in a system.”

From there it was a quick walk through a few corridors and we entered a small mess hall. “This is where I expect you to be every morning at 0700 ship time exactly. We will have breakfast together and I will explain the schedule for the day. Lunch and dinner are at your usual times.”

We got in the only turbolift of the ship and emerged into the port cargo bay, which I had emptied and rearranged into a classroom and exercise/sparring zone. Petro visibly groaned as he recognized the layout.

“It’s a five day journey there, you didn’t think you were going on a holiday, did you?”

I was answered with five disappointed faces and only Zatt looked pleased that they wouldn’t be missing out on their academy classes. “Well, you were rated as the best in your class and I wouldn’t want this trip to cause you to fall behind. Here, Professor Huyang and I will be teaching you. He will mostly handle the academics, whilst I will move you forward in your lightsaber skills.”

The architect droid took his cue and stepped into the bay.

“Whoah, the Huyang,” Zatt said with awe. “The oldest droid in existence. Professor, is it true that you arrived in the temple in a big blue box?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you, adept,” said Huyang with a curious tilt of his head. “I was activated and there was no hint of a blue box in sight. You are merely recalling a rumor started by a padawan many thousands of years ago, which has since become legend. I don’t go out of my way to correct it because it amuses me.”

Next I led them to their quarters for the journey. The Crucible had more than enough to give each of them individual cabins, but that was not on the cards. Up until this point, the adepts always lived in shared dormitories in the temple and to give them any notion of complete privacy was asking for trouble.

“Petro, Zatt, this one’s yours,” I tapped the door with the names clearly stenciled on it, as we walked along the general crew corridor. “Ganodi, Byph, starboard side. Gungi and Katooni, you’re next door on the port side. My own quarters are just down the corridor on the starboard side. If you need anything during off-hours or whilst sleeping, just come and knock. Now, drop your packs by your bunks. I’m sure you want to be on the bridge when we take-off.”

At this stage, all of them would’ve had the general starship safety and familiarization courses, but the notion of actually leaving Coruscant had them all in high spirits.

By the time we reached the bridge in the hammerhead section of the ship, Huyang was already going through the pre-flight.

It wasn’t an especially large command center, with stations for pilot, co-pilot, captain’s chair, engineer and gunnery arranged in a basic circle.

The latter station had been reduced to an extra seat, with only a skeleton of the old gunnery console remaining, filled in by solid durasteel panels.

“All right, everyone, two seats are open. You can choose amongst yourself who will take them. Note, the controls on the captain’s chair are disabled-”

My impromptu game of musical chairs, had Petro jumping the gun and claiming the captain’s chair, whilst Gungi gave a big wookiee grin at claiming the old gunnery chair.

I climbed into the pilot’s chair and smoothly worked with Huyang to finish the checklist, which had the Crucible humming and vibrating with power in short order.

I thumbed the comlink, “Temple Control, this is the Crucible, requesting priority clearance.”

“Crucible, you have clearance, proceed to lane AR332, ascent window has been issued. Force be with you.”

“And you, Control.”

I pulled back on the wide yoke that somewhat reminded me of a 80s future-tech version of a B-29s.

The Crucible’s engines and motivators resonated with a very satisfying bass scream that was typical of Corellian made engines as it ascended into the skies of Coruscant. It was also quite sluggish to control input and I had to lean slightly into prescience to keep the ride generally smooth and error free.

It didn’t take ten minutes of Coruscant sky traffic to utterly bore the adepts.

Zatt was already tapping away at his datapad, Gungi lounging with big hairy feet on the empty console, Petro and Ganodi were arguing about taking turns on the captain’s chair, whilst Byph and Katooni had settled on the floor to meditate.

It was like I was living the Corusca version of bored kids seated in the back of a car.

I raised my hand and made a pinching gesture.

“Ooof,” Petro flinched, almost falling out of the chair in surprise, clutching at his own face, as his nose was lightly pinched through the Force. Ganodi didn’t have a nose so I had to make do with pinching her mouth closed briefly.

“If you two can’t sit in silence and follow the example of Byph and Katooni in your boredom, then you can do so in your cabins.”

“Yes, Padawan Tano,” Petro mumbled, his face flushing with embarrassment.

With that behind us, we finally emerged into a low orbit of the planet and slotted into an exit vector towards the Tanjay hyper point that would take us north-west.

The adepts were entertained for a few minutes watching actual orbital space of the busiest planet in the galaxy. I let M8 project live view holograms of the sheer variety of ships for them. It wasn’t for long though, as after we left orbit they fell into meditation poses, with the natural exception of Zatt.

The young nautolan was hard at work on what I sensed was rather advanced programming for someone of his age, Jedi or not. I also perceived he was actually using the Force in a very subtle way to enhance his fingers, increasing his typing speed.

“Zatt, try using orenth based comparisons.”

He paused and looked up at me in surprise, “Uh, excuse me, Padawan?”

I looked back with a friendly smile, “You’re accumulating floating point errors. Remember that machines and droids do not do math the way we do in our heads.”

He looked down at his custom datapad and with a few further taps, he grinned, “Oh, now it works. Thanks, Padawan, but how-”

“We’re coming up on the hyper point,” I said with a grin, pulsing the Force outward in just the right way to disrupt the focus of the adepts.

When all the kiddies were up and about, I gave the hyperdrive motivator a dramatic push forward.

The Crucible punched forward into hyper and I let them marvel at the swirling tunnel for a few minutes and gain their equilibrium as they were all somewhat disturbed.

“Is this how the Force always feels in hyperspace, Padawan?”

“It takes some getting used to. For most of your lives, you’ve been on Coruscant as you developed your strength and senses. That will naturally be disturbed by being plunged into an entirely different dimension. You can tell that the Force is here as well, but its qualities are quite different. Your senses will have far greater range, but do not try to explore it. If you do, I will pull you back forcefully and give you six hours of remote practice as corrective punishment. It takes training and an experienced mind to plumb the depths of hyper - something that Jedi Navigators do regularly.”

I stood from the pilot’s chair, “Now, it’s still mid-morning, we can begin with your science class for the day. Get your educational datapads from your quarters. Off you go.”

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Three days later, the final stop the ship would make under standard nav-computer control was in the Utegetu Nebula. A rather unremarkable brown gas cloud over twenty-two light years across.

“Do you wish for me to remain, Padawan Tano?” Huyang asked kindly.

“It’s not necessary, professor. You can continue their history lesson.”

“Very well. I’ll see you again when we get to Ilum.”

The droid left the bridge with a quiet confidence that I greatly appreciated.

I patiently waited for the hyperdrive to finish a standard cooling cycle, before I disengaged the navigation entirely, taking it out of the control loop.

Next I opened the panel that would give me manual control of hyper geometries that the drive would adopt.

I closed my eyes, embracing the Force, surging my senses and control, pushing myself with technometry into the ship itself.

My eyes became the sensors, the hull, my skin, the particle shields a comfortable blanket to weather the harsh wind.

My senses now pushed further, into hyperspace itself. 

The nebula’s mass was giving local hyper a generally smooth flattened curve that at first glance was an impenetrable wall for generating a stable entrance.

Yet, Yoda’s instruction and memories pointed the way to a specific gap in the curve of space-time, where the nebula gave way to a simple flat void.

I found it in moments and my fleshy hands in the bridge began moving the yoke of the ship, angling towards that gap.

Beyond it were hundreds of thousands of pin pricks, star clusters of every type imaginable, pulsars, black holes, a vast wilderness of cosmos.

The Force guided me, yet obeyed as my will sought the specific star around which Ilum orbited.

Hyperspace field geometry…

It aligned smoothly together as I’d practiced hundreds of times to the point of obsession, a memory which I let pass through my thoughts, not giving it any purchase.

Power from the hypermatter reactor surged towards the hyperdrive and at the right moment, my hand pushed forward on the lever.

The Crucible stretched forward as space bent and tore, flinging me into the other dimension.

The immediate future of the ship, of me, unfolded like a vast tapestry.

I altered the hyper geometries, my mind likening it to giant energetic rudder in the sea of the alternate dimension -

- and just missed a rather volatile binary system that would have collapsed my field geometries like a house of cards.

The sigh of relief coming from my lungs was a distant thing.

Eight light years later I altered course slightly relative in the z axis, to avoid a black hole the ship would encounter in thirty six seconds.

It would take another 89 relative minutes to my flesh body before we could settle into a period of nine hours that didn’t require any active navigation input from me.

A time that from my point of view, did and didn’t pass by quickly.

I settled the hyperdrive geometries and put the majority of its functions on automatic, keeping the ship going straight and level in the clear lane of space that stretched out to me.

How the future Empire would traverse the erratic course to Ilum, I could only conclude would be done initially via a trained Inquisitor, with a navicomputer recording everything they did. It was the only explanation of the ease with which the normally uncharted 1600 light years was traversed in the future.

I pulled back and opened my normal meatbag eyes.

Sometimes when I used technometry to such an extent, I could begin to understand where HK was coming from when he continuously derided the organic state of being.

A quick final checklist that the hyperdrive was nominal…

All green across the board.

I emerged from the bridge and secured it, not liking the fact that in a few future probabilities Petro would sneak into the place to poke around and sit on the captain’s chair again. It was only in one of them, that he would push a button he wasn’t supposed to and throw the Crucible out of hyper in the middle of nowhere.

My quarters and the marginally comfortable bed beckoned.

After three days, there was no way I was exposing myself to more of the rambunctious and emotional adepts, when my own state of mind was the determining factor in getting us to our destination in one piece.

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“Where’ve you been, Padawan Ahsoka?”

I smiled at Katooni warmly from the pilot’s chair as the whole gang entered the bridge. Of the six, I found I liked the young tholothian the most. She had a cautious and studious nature, combined with a very courageous spirit within. We seemingly just ‘clicked’, even if I had to ignore the slight case of hero worship, which was present to some extent in all of them. It was just something I had to live with at this point.

As much as the Jedi Temple tried to keep all the younglings and adepts more or less aloof and protected from the outside galaxy, they weren’t completely isolated from external news sources. I knew some older adepts, padawans and even some knights who were on CSO under pseudonyms. It meant the work of COMPOR would eventually find its way within the Temple and the speed of gossip would do the rest.

“Making sure we would get to our destination, meaning I needed to concentrate and not be disturbed by younglings,” I teasingly poked her in the side.

“We’re adepts,” Petro objected immediately.

I waved him off, “Bah, you’ll always be younglings to me. I trust you handled any discipline issues, professor?”

The droid moved with near organic smoothness onto the bridge, “Of course, it’d be a hot day on Ilum before I couldn’t handle a bunch of younglings.”

“Professor, your optics must be checked, we’re adepts,” Gunji growled.

“Well, adepts,” I said sarcastically, “we’re about to drop out of hyper.”

I pulled back on the motivator lever.

The hyper tunnel broke, resolving itself into streaked pin pricks of starlight bent by the exit interface back into normal space.

Ilum was a blue, purple and white planet that hung in space, dancing around the exceedingly bright blue dwarf star which some ancient Jedi had named Asar.

It was also a very strong Force Nexus and the weight of all the naturally present kyber that brimmed with the Force hung on my senses like a heavy but comfortable blanket.

“Welcome adepts, to Ilum. I hope you packed your cold weather clothing.”

They all nodded, but the sight of the planet was somewhat entrancing to their own neophyte senses.

Only when I started a breaking burn for a low orbit insertion did they blink and somewhat come back to themselves.

A quick check through the Force showed me the position of the Jedi Temple down there, where an ever patient Master Yoda was waiting for us. He had already been here for a day, coming in his own shuttle. He had done this trip so many times over his long life, he most likely didn’t even need to immerse himself with his ship.

The entry interface with the atmosphere was a little more bumpy than what I was used to, but not surprising for a ship of this age.

After six minutes of leaving a streaking trail of plasma across the skies of Ilum, we slowed down enough and cruised towards the temple.

At lower altitude the corvette was buffeted by strong winds and normal visibility was quickly gone as a snow storm rolled in over us.

I brought the ship to a landing spot six hundred meters from the Temple, which was actually part of an icy wall that towered into the sky and merely the edge of a gigantic glacier that stretched to either side of the horizon.

“All right everyone, get your gear and survival packs on, meet me at the ramp.”

After securing the ship’s systems for an extended stay, which Huyang would manage by keeping the reactor at a constant low output, I grabbed my beskar’gam helmet and hurried to the aft of the ship.

“Brace yourselves,” I warned them after a quick check that everyone was ready. Only Gunji didn’t need to bother with much external gear, only putting on a set of goggles to protect his eyes from snow and wind. I put on my helmet and slotted it in place, before triggering the ramp.

The chilly wind blasted us immediately, with snow following in its wake.

“Keep together, single file and make sure you’re sensing outwards!”

I led the way out and the adepts quickly used the face shields of their heavy parkas and put on goggles as well.

The wind was blasting us now from the east at nearly 60kph, enough that we had to orient ourselves into it, whilst wading through the snow that came up to our calves.

“How can there be a temple here?!” Katooni shouted over the wind.

“That’s the general idea! No one would guess,” Petro answered.

After three hundred meters of trudging forwards, we stepped onto solid ice. It was hard to imagine that this was actually rather reasonable weather by Ilum standards and already the snow storm we had landed in had passed us by. Leaving a generally clear blue sky with the local sun casting its weak warmth on us.

Ilum generally hovered outside the habitable zone of the star and would only dip into it during certain times of the year - creating conditions that had made building the temple possible in the first place. It had taken hundreds of years of work by the ancient Jedi, making liberal use of the Force itself in the construction and imported materials.

I stopped the group a mere fifty meters from the vast ice wall and looked down.

There hidden under the ice, barely visible, was a stone relief of the ancient Jedi symbol used during the Old Republic.

“Is there some way inside?!” Petro asked.

“Yes. Adepts, reach out with your hands, embrace the Force and project it straight forward at the wall. Only together will this door open.”

I raised my hand as an example and was careful to not complete the ancient lock with my own strength alone. It was an old bit of technology that worked with the Force itself, the method of creation lost to time.

The small but very bright spirits behind me flared with the Force, their inexpert grasp fumbling but good enough to begin directing the flow.

I shored it up, giving it direction, purpose and the last bit of strength to complete the lock.

The icy wall before us began to shake, rattle and collapse as the ancient mechanism flash melted entire sections, using the very energy of the Force that we had collectively imbued into it.

After the dense cloud of snow that had been kicked up settled back on the ice, it revealed the frontage of a narrow man-made building exterior with geometric patterns that stretched upwards as high as the glacier itself. The entrance of the place looked like the maw of some eldritch icy creature, with the icy stalagmites forming its teeth.

“Excellent work, now we have to hurry. The sun has already risen and we must begin.”

The entrance led into a long icy hallway, the angled walls of which were filled with reliefs depicting ancient sagas of the Jedi. These were so old, that even Revan’s entire story and Old Republic-era Jedi was recent in comparison to the others on these walls.

It spoke of bloody and desperate struggles, triumphs and defeats, in eras where the hyperdrive was much slower and the galaxy seemed bigger. Unfortunately, the names of the ancient warlords and Sith being fought were lost to time and the weathering of the elements.  

We emerged from the corridor and into a circular room that easily rivaled the Jedi Temple’s grand central hall for sheer scale and space. Giant statues of robed Jedi Knights towered 48 meters over us, each facing inward with their lit stone lightsabers held formally in a middle guard, the blade tips hovering in front of the stone cowls hiding their faces. The walls were lined with columns and ringed with flat surfaces and geometric reliefs that Jedi historians were still puzzling over the actual meaning to this day. Ice encrusted smaller pyramids were arranged on the vast floor, all arrayed around the central focal point of the space.

The entire area seemed designed to draw all eyes towards one end, which featured a tall flat expanse of ice, seemingly held there in defiance of the physics of temperature within the place. It should’ve melted already as the day cycle of Ilum was in full swing.

Our footsteps on the stone floor echoed through the space as we walked towards the diminutive form of Master Yoda, who was seated in meditative pose on a flattened expanse of ice right in the middle of the circular room. He was still wearing his usual thin beige robe, tunic and leggings, demonstrating a mastery of his own body in the cold environment that actually came straight out of Matukai teachings. Anyone else would’ve frozen their ass off already.

It was a little demonstration of mastery that largely went over the adept’s heads and I could see only Zatt and Katooni had caught on to it, but they kept their peace and approached the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“Master Yoda,” Zatt greeted and the adepts bowed formally together. They were naturally surprised at Yoda’s presence here already, but just rolled with it. Yoda had taught their class in the past, as the Grandmaster usually took the time to do a random teaching tour through the academy every year. It was another casualty of the war, as it further monopolized his time.

I stood at Yoda’s side as he began the Gathering.

“The Force, made physical, a Jedi is. Comes great responsibility with that, yes?” The adepts nodded in agreement. Yoda stood fluidly from his meditation. “Protect others, how does a Jedi?”

He made an unnecessary gesture and his own lightsaber hovered slowly off his belt, before igniting its green blade and began a leisurely spin on its own axis.

“Build your own lightsaber, you shall. But first, harvest your own crystal, each one of you must.”

“See, I told you,” hissed Petro at Zatt.

“No, I told you,” Zatt retorted.

“Wow.”

Yoda simply stared at the group and they immediately quieted. “The heart of the lightsaber, the crystal is.” Yoda’s blade extinguished under his Control and returned to his hand. “Focuses the Force from the Jedi, it does.”

He clipped the hilt to his belt and made a casual gesture upward.

The Force thrummed almost eagerly, as high up against the domed ceiling a massive door parted under Yoda’s strength.

Ilum’s sunlight streamed in and hit a four meter tall crystal suspended within a gold plated durasteel half-moon cradle.

Another gesture and the entire construct began spinning, the light splitting from the crystal all over the ceiling in a chaotic yet beautiful array of colours.

Until another crystal emerged from another door that opened and settled within the path of one particular beam.

That beam of light was precisely focused and redirected down straight onto the frame that surrounded the towering and inexplicable wall of ice.

It began melting and in yet another physics defying feat, became a waterfall of melting ice within seconds. The water was then precisely channeled into a circular drain right behind where Yoda was standing, and his little perch of meditative ice also began melting.

He hopped off it nimbly.

The entire display was a feat of Alter Environment imbued into the very structure of the Temple. I remembered thinking during my own Gathering, that I wanted nothing more than to spend time here on Ilum studying the secrets of this place to relearn what the ancient Jedi had achieved here.

The impending war wouldn’t allow for it.

So much wonder and mystery in this galaxy, almost begging to be unearthed and learned, yet it was not to be.

If there was one thing that I naturally despised the Sith and Palpatine especially for, it was robbing me of such opportunities.

“If Jedi, you are to become,” continued Yoda, as the waterfall ended, revealing another passageway beyond it, “enter the crystal cave, you must.” He stepped forward, folding his hands behind his back. “Trust yourself, trust each other, and succeed, you will.”

“Let’s go, adepts, drop your packs here,” I stepped into my role and guided them to the now brightly lit passageway into the crystal caves. “Once you have found your crystal, do not remain inside. As daylight ends, this doorway will freeze over again and you will be trapped.”

“Uh, Padawan,” said Ganodi, now looking extremely worried, “For how long?”

“One rotation. You will be beyond anyone’s help then.”

Petro raised his hand, “How will we know which crystal to pick?” 

“That only you can know. Now, you are all wasting time. Hurry.”

Katooni, being the burgeoning leader she was, was the first to turn around and walk inside. Petro was next and the others quickly followed suit. Byph was especially hesitant and had to hurry to catch up before the others disappeared into the caves without him.

“I’ve always questioned the idea behind misleading them,” I commented to Yoda as we both took a seat nearby on the cold stone floor.

“Sense of urgency, they must have. Remember well, the illusions within, you do. Deadly they can be.”

“I suppose it’s better than watching the old masters remain behind in exile after seeing their padawans perish inside.”

“Wasteful practice that was,” Yoda scoffed. He reached into a pocket behind his back and brought out his own holocron. “Speak now, we must, Ahsoka.”

He tapped the device, which glowed blue and began splitting open, tetrahedral pieces splitting off and hovering in the air, until a small holographic Yoda hovered above it.

“No safer place there will be, Ahsoka,” said holo-Yoda.

I closed my eyes and probed the kaleidoscope of probability as it stood now.

“Correct, Master Yoda, I suppose we have to have an overdue chat.”

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A/N: If there was one sliver of time and space to have this convo... :-) Alas, I have to end the chapter here. Unpacking this from the other side was quite fun, whereas the episode naturally focuses on the kids.

Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend, folks. Stay awesome.

The Force Wills - Chapter 136

The Nubian J-Type Star skiff Veruna decelerated out of hyperspace.

Padme breathed out a sigh of relief that only the emptiness of interstellar space surrounded her after conducting as thorough a scan as possible.

Paranoia was an ever constant companion in her emotions these days. The current events of the war and the politics of the Senate had been especially nasty in the last few months. The shifting fronts had pulled back a number of worlds that had seceded in the beginning. Now the question on the table was what to do with their Senatorial seats - Umbara being the prime example.

One faction wanted to outright strip the seat and demote such reconquered worlds into mere representative status, giving the actual seat to another loyal world in the same sector. Another faction wanted the seat to remain as is and simply return Umbara to the Senate with a new, vetted senator - arguing that it would encourage a smooth return to status quo in the future for other worlds.

It was a debate between reconciliation and punishment, and it had been going on for weeks.

Then Palpatine delivered a report to the Senate from the Jedi Order on the state of Onderon.

The seceded world, essentially trapped behind ‘enemy lines’, had fallen into a localized war, with the locals resisting their Separatist aligned king.

It threw an entirely new dynamic into the debate and split the Senatorial factions even further - some now worried about the precedent the Jedi and GAR strategy would set. Obviously being concerned about the same thing being used against their own governments in secret or the mere example of Onderon would cause their own marginalized or minorities to follow suit.

When Ahsoka’s call came through the Bond, Padme didn’t hesitate jumping at the chance just to escape from the Senate and organize a two-week break. Letting Jar-Jar take over the seat, whilst she would coordinate him and see the rest of her duties through with holo presence.

Now here she was, two days of hyper later waiting at a rendezvous point a few hours outside of the Zel system along the Trellen route.

She gave a look to the ship chrono, double checked her own and performed another scan.

“Late Ahsoka?” she mumbled, idly sending a mental poke along the Bond.

Sure enough, her scanner suddenly blurted a warning and not twenty meters in front of the Veruna an angular, aggressive looking military shuttle decloaked. Its transponder handshake with her computer resolved and her heart calmed somewhat when it showed it as the GAR shuttle Skyfang.

She rolled her eyes at Ahsoka’s antics as the comlink lit up.

“Was that necessary?”

“The bad guys have cloaks too, Padme,” Ahsoka’s small holo rendered above the cockpit console, her finger tilting back and forth in a teasing gesture of remonstration, which had an undercurrent of seriousness. “Now ready your ventral docking port, I need to send the Skyfang back.”

A few minutes later, she was on the lowest deck of the Veruna and let the computer mostly handle the details of the rarely used airlock in the fore area of the star skiff.

The hatch at her feet opened and she was treated to the sight of pointy montrals that were more prominent than their last meeting, and a dark brown patterning on them instead of the usual purple.

Ahsoka’s usual shade of light orange skin was also more vibrant and given what she remembered about her species, meant she had spent more time in the sun lately. In this respect, Onderon had definitely agreed with her. Her facial pattern had also changed, with two large white circles surrounding her blue eyes and two diamonds on either cheek. It was yet another disguise and Padme reflected on how easy it was for togruta in general to change their appearance because everyone knew them by their usually complex facial patterning when describing them.  

“Padme.”

The smile was brilliant, warm and they shared a brief hug.

“Ahsoka, glad to see you safe.”

“Glad to be safe, let’s get the Skyfang going.”

She removed a large backpack from her shoulders, sealed the airlock again and with a few gestured manipulations of a holocontrol that appeared above her arm. The Veruna shuddered as the other ship removed the docking collar and would speed off into hyper moments later.

“There we go,” she shouldered the strap of the backpack. “So, ready for some training?”

Padme nodded, though she was still somewhat reluctant and still not entirely convinced of its necessity. Only her trust in Ahsoka was really what had made her agree to use precious leave time for this and the fact that Anakin was very busy on the Resolute with training other Jedi Knights. 

“Excellent, I’ll take the Navigator’s bunk.”

She was off down the small engineering deck and climbing the ladder.

Padme was left with the distinct impression that Ahsoka had just shut a metaphorical door. She shook her head to dispel the thought and headed back towards the cockpit.

She had barely sat down in the pilot’s chair, when Ahsoka poked her head in; her facial patterning a bizarre mess and a makeup stylus in her other hand, clearly going through a transition to another style.

“Oh, just go ahead and set us on a course straight ahead to Zel, might as well.”

She retreated a moment later, not saying a further word.

“All right,” she said with a hint of fond exasperation. Quick commands to the navicomputer and a few minutes to recompute the course for safety’s sake, the Veruna plunged itself into hyper.

When Ahsoka reappeared in cockpit almost an hour later and flung herself into the co-pilot’s chair with a huff, her montral and lekku pattern colour was back to her normal dark purple, whilst the cheek pattern had changed to an elaborately white Thesh symbol with a string of diamonds crowning over her forehead and white brows over her eyes. She was even wearing her single akul tooth headdress today, a rare sight.

“At last,” she sighed deeply and Padme watched as the Jedi just relaxed, even closing her eyes as if to nap. As if she had just cast off the weight of a planet from her shoulders. An observation that was quite accurate given recent events.

Padme didn’t even want to comment, lest she remind her close friend of the ordeals she had just lived through. She had read enough details in the classified report for the Loyalist Committee.

“So, training?”

Ahsoka poked open a single eye, which twinkled with mischief. “Yes, I can sense you’ve diligently kept up with the lessons I gave you. Now we move on to the next step. I’ve found the Matukai.”

Padme blinked with slight astonishment, “You did?”

“Indeed.” She said with a deep, mysterious tone, in contrast to her twinkling eyes.

“Where? Will they actually teach me?”

Ever since Ahsoka had raised the possibility, Padme had done more research of her own and she couldn’t lie to herself - it was very intriguing. The idea that with training, she could actually cultivate an overt Force sensitivity and bring herself to a level of perception that Anakin, Ahsoka or any Jedi had…

“The where? You’ll just have to wait and see. As for the latter question, that depends entirely on you Padme.”

“Me?”

“The Matukai are an ancient order that whilst not as old as the Jedi, are even more elusive and by nature, relatively small in number. I’d be surprised if there are two hundred in the entire galaxy. The fact that they can cultivate the Force in any living being is not something they advertise and even amongst those who do know, it’s understood that the process can be extremely arduous. Not life threatening, but painful and taxing. You’ve improved yourself physically according to my instruction, but know that Matukai fitness is an order of magnitude above what we Jedi consider as fit. The Master we meet, will give us a fair hearing, that much I can ensure, but it will be his call at the end of the day whether to train you in the limited time you have available.”

“Can anything actually be achieved in such a limited time, even if he does agree?”

“Enough that you can be put on the path at least.”

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Three hours later the Veruna emerged in the Zel system at the very busy waypoint and Ahsoka took primary control, inputting a course to intercept the orbit of Zeltron itself.

Padme gave her friend a flat look. “The Matukai are here? In the pleasure capital of the galaxy?”

Ahsoka chuckled and gave a big smile, “Amazing isn’t it? Well, a master and his three adepts are here.”

She gave her friend a look to gauge her sincerity, but it wasn’t easy. Ahsoka was… being Ahsoka. “Are you certain? This isn’t just an excuse to get me-” Padme stopped her uncharitable and definitely unworthy thought.

“No,” said Ahsoka with a mild smile, thankfully brushing aside Padme’s assumption. “If you were an order of Force practitioners that wanted to generally hide from the galaxy, an order everyone can’t help but model as just another flavor of Jedi. Where better to hide than in the one place that most Jedi would never be caught dead. It is also an environment that naturally forces them to gain better bodily control of themselves.”

“That… makes sense I suppose, but how did you find them or know they are here now?”

“CSO has been here on the Holonet for just under a year by now. The zeltrons love it, though we’ve had to place filters and limit the content to only spread to Zeltron and their direct colonies. The hedonism is not meant for the young or every eye out in the galaxy. Suffice it to say, that one of the search algorithms I put in place, spotted someone in a holo post with a very distinctive weapon that the Matukai wield, a wan-shen polearm. That gave the starting point, with more discrete research locally and Master Ha’s own investigation, we have a firm location and confirmation. You will not be wasting your time here, Padme.”

“Now we just have to avoid getting sucked into a constant planetwide party.” 

If there was one thing that the Zeltrons shouted from the rooftops, it was that they considered their entire civilization to be a giant, non-stop party. Anything and anyone that got in the way of it, impeded it or brought the mood down, was in general, not welcome. It made her wonder how the Matukai managed to remain on the planet.

The local hyperspace points during this time of year meant that it was another ninety minutes of real space travel to make Zeltros orbit. A time that Padme used to generally catch up with everything Ahsoka had been doing beyond the war. It quickly became rather depressing and apparent that there wasn’t much that either of them could say that didn’t involve it in some fashion.

About the only neutral subject they could talk on was Ahsoka’s Naboo property and how the farm she had begun there was nearing its first harvest season.

“Any success I have there, is solely due to Mr. Vahl.”

“But it’s you who gave him the second chance with the credit bailout of his original farm and recognized his talent for what it was, when no one else would.”

Ahsoka shrugged, “He had a bad season, it could happen to anyone.”

“What are you even growing there?”

“Let’s just say that I have hope a certain barley plant can grow on Naboo, which when processed may yield a specific beverage that I hope to make compatible with a togruta metabolism.”

“A beer?”

“Not just any beer, Padme,” Ahsoka said, her eyes distant into the void of space and brimming with a nostalgia that even she recognized at once.

When they finally entered orbit into a designated space given by a droid aerospace controller, it was to regard a very busy terrestrial garden planet. It had less ocean percentage relative to land than most such worlds, but the locals just considered that more space to easily party on. The weather control system was also one of the best in the galaxy, considering that no zeltron wanted to have their civilizational party impeded by something as mundane as a bad rain storm.

Rain only happened elsewhere, most assuredly where no one was living and was done only because a drought would be even more depressing.

Padme looked down onto the planet and felt… it was difficult to put into words and she wasn’t sure if it was just her own mind imagining things in anticipation for what she would see down there.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, visibly steeling herself. “Just remember the old adage when we get down there. When on a world, do as the locals do. Zeltrons want everyone to feel good and will do nothing that pushes you into the other direction. They’re empathic and one in every thousand will be mildly telepathic. You can keep your defenses up in general, but we have to leave the war and our emotions related to it, up here in orbit. Understand?”

Padme nodded, she had no desire to be kicked off the planet, nor did she want to be assailed with a dozen zeltron offers ‘to raise her mood.’

Their descent clearance came through and Ahsoka expertly pushed the Veruna into a smooth atmospheric entry.     

Padme had seen images of the planet’s capital, but it did nothing for its impact when she truly saw it with her own eyes.

It nearly robbed the breath straight out of her lungs.

Theed was a beautiful jewel on the Naboo plains.

The rather unimaginatively named Zeltros City, capital of the Zeltron, made her own capital look positively ordinary.

Zeltros City was an artwork.

An artwork done by a master that Padme felt like her eyes couldn’t look away from. The buildings, the roads, the tallest plants visible from high altitude and even the air lanes for speeders all came together in a constantly weaving tapestry of pleasure for the eyes.    

She had to tear her eyes away and look down into the cockpit controls, feeling that she had robbed herself of the experience.

A glance to her right showed that even Ahsoka was not immune, her eyes wide and pupils dilated, appreciation visible on her face, yet somehow keeping her concentration .

The spaceport continued the theme and when the Veruna finally landed in a bay, it was not to regard an ordinary boring circular structure that snugly fit around the ship, but instead a huge holographic dome that showed a pristine natural scene of grassland that Padme could swear had come straight from Naboo.

“Well, they really want to make you feel at home already, tailoring the holodome to you.”

“So you booked our stay? They know it’s me?”

“I did book, but used an alias that will stand up to considerable scrutiny. The Naboo scene is mostly a local computer system at work, reacting to the origins of the star skiff. Now, time to get changed into appropriate attire.”

Padme blinked as the realization of that little cultural wrinkle came to the forefront of her mind, “Ahsoka, I don’t exactly have anything to wear that would fit here. The best I have is a one piece swimsuit that would be considered overdressed and all my body suits have the same problem, not skin tight enough.”

“You could always go without,” she joked and Padme did not imagine the slightly hopeful tone in Ahsoka’s voice.

“No.”

“Awww, but relax, Padme. I came prepared.”

They emerged a few minutes later from the Veruna and Padme had to admit that she was quite relaxed, if slightly uncomfortable.

Her hair was hanging loose at her shoulders and she was wearing her preferred white at least, but this was not a body suit.

Ahsoka called it instead a skin suit, and it was so clingy yet so soft against the skin that if she closed her eyes, it felt like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. It had built in support for the places that needed it as well. The pair of matching rugged soled slippers was an afterthought.

Her companion’s outfit was a variation of a Hapan bikini she’d seen her wear. It was somehow, even more revealing - near invisible thin strings, the smallest patches of blue fabric covering the necessary areas. It looked practically painted on and as was custom for togruta, didn’t bother with any shoes.

The only concession to practicality was that they both wore a small pouch strapped to the left thigh that carried their comlinks and physical credit tokens.

“No lightsaber?” she asked as they walked towards the edge of the holodome and passed through it.

“Not necessary,” Ahsoka shook her head, paying the ever patient droid dockmaster their landing fee.

The spaceport corridor beyond was filled with holographic art and advertisement, meant to entice, intrigue and tempt, seemingly catering for every flavor of pleasure and entertainment that had been conceived by sentients.

It was filled with a cosmopolitan spread of most major species in the galaxy and Padme couldn’t help but observe that things were rather more crowded than what she had imagined. Protocol droids mostly did the heavy lifting of ushering and directing the flow of sentients, but there were a few zeltrons as well, either overseeing things or helping people to ‘find the party’. As with everything they did, it was with great enthusiasm.

“Careful now, we’re leaving the spaceport and passing into the pheromone miasma, focus on the moment, the flame of the candle that is you, let it remain still and serene,” Ahsoka said, putting a comforting hand of support on her shoulder as they walked through the huge front doors and into the brilliant mid-morning sunlight of Zeltros.

The combined natural pheromone emission of three million zeltron having the times of their lives constantly hit her in the nose like someone had slapped her.

I am me. I am the stillness in the eye of the storm. I am not this crude matter trying to rob my mind of its faculty.  

She repeated the mantra, over and over, only aware of the warm bright presence of Ahsoka standing by her side. 

Finally, her body's responses to the induced arousal faded and she felt safe opening her eyes.

“Excellent. Now let’s go rent a speeder.”

An explosion of sound and cheer sent her heart racing and Ahsoka grabbed her by the arm to drag her out of the way of what looked like an impromptu mass dance to rhythmic drum music that was emerging from the spaceport doors.

By the time they had arrived at the speeder rental, they had already managed to fend off getting pulled into the party on four different occasions by different people who were very excited. 

It was a relief when Ahsoka managed to finally pilot them into an air lane and leave the spaceport behind.

“Things should calm down a little bit from here, the port is where most of the spontaneous parties happen!”

“Yes, but now we’re going into the real party!” Padme declared over the rushing air of the open-top speeder.

To prove her point, their speeder passed a slower floating party platform. That housed hundreds of zeltron in various states; laughing, drinking with abandon, dancing, wearing highly decorative and colorful skinsuits, bikinis or nothing at all. 

Ahsoka gunned the acceleration and they left the flying party behind.

“Where specifically is this Matukai master?!”

“Patience, Padme! Just twenty minutes at this speed, near the coast.”

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The city was coastal and Ahsoka brought the speeder to land in a designated zone, within sight of a pristine white sand beach. The lulling sound of waves constantly crashing onto the shore and being pulled back filled the air, along with the pleasant tang of saltwater.

The majority of zeltron here mostly sunning themselves in peace, playing beach ball, drinking at a nearby bar - which was actually hovering a foot above the sand and could relocate itself anywhere - swimming in the ocean or hover surfing along the waves. The amount of red, magenta and pink skin on display was excessive and she couldn’t see a single zeltron who was out of shape. It was a distinct feast for the eyes and Padme had to tear her gaze away from a passing male zeltron who actually had…

“Eight pack, good grief,” Ahsoka mumbled, giving the zeltron an appreciative look before grabbing Padme by the arm and rushing them onto the soft beach sand.

This did not really improve things.

It took nearly six minutes of walking before they turned a bend of the coastline and didn’t see a packed beach filled with utterly attractive and beautiful zeltron.

Yet even here they passed those who found pleasure in just taking a relaxing walk.

Look Padme, don’t avert your eyes, she thought strongly. Feeling guilty, shame or associated emotions would quickly attract attention from the zeltron, who would seek to quickly remedy those negative emotions.

If not for Ahsoka’s training, she’d have been floundering.

So she let herself gaze appreciatively at male zeltron only wearing his skin as he passed them going in the other direction. He in turn did the same and went about his day.

Another two kilometers of walking and a pristine forest park was now rising on their right and Ahsoka guided the way up a very long set of stone stairs, built up a high embankment.

Here at last, they were finally afforded some relative solitude and not a single zeltron was in immediate sight.

The trees stretched over their heads at nearly twelve meters, with a canopy that let the sunlight through in a constantly shifting majestic scene. The air was alive with the smell of plantlife, dew and a hundred other scents that Padme wanted to bottle and make a perfume with. She felt like she could stay a lifetime here and it would not be enough to catalogue how she felt.

“Come, off the beaten path now,” Ahsoka smiled at her with a palpable radiance, seemingly also content with her beautiful surroundings.

They left the path straight into the dense trees, weaving and dodging through the moss covered boughs, occasionally having to climb over large roots.

“Nice morning for a walk, ladies.”

Padme was startled at the sudden voice that came from right behind her.

Ahsoka chuckled as they turned around, shaking her head.

Leaning against the tree they had just passed by, was a nearly two meter tall mirialan with deep green skin and intricate black geometric tattoos across his face and arms. He wore only lightweight loose leggings in soft green and brown, leaving a lean muscular torso visible that was clearly trained and sculpted to perfection. His recognizable wan-shen polearm was extended to its full length and planted in the ground next to him.

His purple eyes set in a youthful, moderately handsome face with a pointed, severe jawline, did not show the naivety of youth at all, as he critically examined them both.

Ahsoka bowed, but in a manner unlike the usual Jedi form, first slapping her hands together and only bending her neck. “Master Kohl.”

Kohl looked at her for a few moments longer before standing properly and returning the same greeting. “Padawan Tano. You are everything Master Ha said you’d be.”

“And you doubted her?”

“Not as such, but it’s nice to get confirmation,” said Kohl, his voice was a rather harsh deep thrum on the ear. “She had much to say and I’ve done some careful corroboration with the rest of our Order.”

“I hope they were discrete,” Ahsoka said pleasantly, but her eyes were sharp.

“Obviously,” Kohl drawled. “We’ve always kept ourselves to the Outer Rim, but just like you Jedi, we have our ways. Unlike you though, we never thought that the Sith were extinct after the Battle of Ruusan.”

“There is no defense I can generally give the Jedi Order in that respect, so I won’t.”

“Wise of you,” Kohl picked up his wan-shen and with deft, fluid movements from his hands, it collapsed and folded into a compact form no larger than half a meter, the blade protected by the main structure of the weapon. A thin rope extended from it, he bound and secured it around his torso. “Now we have no choice but to pick up the pieces and I have another matter I must bring to your attention eventually, but let’s not leave the very purpose of your visit waiting. Senator Amidala, a pleasure.” He clapped his hands and bowed in Matukai fashion.

She quickly rallied her thoughts, “Master Kohl, an honor to meet you.”

He nodded, “You are known to the Matukai for your tireless voice of peace and justice in the galaxy. The horrors that you steered your world through in the face of the impossible. You come to seek training from us to face the new embodiment of the old enemy. I know of you, have heard others speak of you and now have seen you.”

He stepped forward and Padme felt like she was utterly held hostage by his eyes, which seemed to act like a singularity, drawing her in and to look away would be impossible.

His purple eyes actually glowed…

She blinked and the moment was gone.

She was left with a burning sensation in her lungs and belatedly realized that she had utterly forgotten to even breathe.

“Very well, I will train you. Come.”

She was left totally off-balance as he walked past her. “Wait… that’s it?”

“Yes, did you expect some interrogation or mysterious wise man act, with our heads lost in the concerns of the infinite future?” He harumphed in annoyance, waving his hand dismissively. “We leave that to the Jedi. We are Matukai. We act in the moment, judging the present and remembering the past. We acknowledge the reality of our physical being and the impact it can have on the universe around us. We hone it like our wan-shen.”

He disappeared, she felt a light wind across her face, then felt a very callused hard hand on her shoulder.

“If I am to be your master, for what little time we have, you will obey. Now come.”

Padme turned on her heel, not even giving a single thought to Ahsoka, her safety… or anything really and followed.

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Anakin stared at the distant star of the Chagri system.

It was barely a pin prick of light from the extreme edge of the system’s Oort cloud but was rendered much clearer by holo systems of Briefing One. 

He raised his hand and with a few gestures and swipes, the entire view zoomed in to show current orbitals of every planet, moon, asteroid and anything with significant mass in the system.

It was a vast mess, which he reduced with a few more commands and filters, showing anything that massed at least as much as a frigate.

“Why are we out here, Skywalker?”

He shot a brief look at Skoll, who had entered the room, whilst his hand continued refining the search parameters.

“Waiting,” he answered his fellow Jedi.

“Waiting? Champala is wide open to attack whilst we sit with our formation out here,” Skoll’s blue eyes flashed in anger, but his voice didn’t raise at all.

“We hunt very elusive prey, Skoll. This Separatist fleet has remained hidden for months, ever since our lines had been breached through Shili, striking in the rear when we least expect it, at randomized targets all over the Northern Hydian way and its branches.”

“And now you think they’ll be targeting Champala, yes, but-”

Anakin interrupted him with a raised hand, “If it is what I think, my fellow knight, then the last thing we want to do is show our ships ready to intercept them. They will then know that we have ‘cracked the code’ of their movements and will avoid attacking the world entirely. Why do you think I ordered the 42nd Fleet into full com blackout and even isolated our fleet intelligence divisions?”

Skoll frowned, his strong, chiseled face twisting and he scratched his squared jawline in contemplation. “You think the Separatists have compromised our own fleet’s movements. They’ve restored some measure of their intelligence apparatus on Coruscant perhaps?”

“Highly likely,” Anakin acknowledged, feeling the familiar old inward bitterness that the actual leak was straight from Palpatine. Who wanted this CIS shadow fleet within the belly of the Republic to continue fomenting the war and accomplish a dozen other objectives as well.

‘Cracking the code’ was a very apt analogy. As where others only saw chaotic randomized attacks all over the Republic north, he knew that there was no such thing as a true randomizer from a machine’s perspective. It was all based on math and algorithms that someone, somewhere had sat down and programmed into the tactical droids supporting this shadow fleet, along with a target list given by Dooku and Palpatine.

He had worked for days with R2 and the Resolute’s main computer, analyzing all known targets that had been hit. Brute forced his own targeting algorithm to unravel and eventually mimic the one the enemy was using. Add in his own touch of prescience and he was now more than sure that Champala would be the next target.

Now why would Palpatine attack the homeworld of one of his closest supporters?

It only made sense when you knew that Mas Amedda, Vice Chancellor of the Republic, was also the only non-Force sensitive who generally knew that Palpatine was actually Darth Sidious.

Clearly Amedda had done something to earn the ire of Sidious and whether this was punishment or served some other purpose, Anakin had no idea and only Ahsoka might have some clue or theory.

A quick check on the chrono confirmed it was almost time.

He keyed the comlink, “Scout Desh, are you ready?”

“We’re ready and standing by for target acquisition, General.”

Cloaked scouts were positioned at key observation points throughout the system, whilst the 42nd Fleet orbited in hyper, keeping themselves nice and hidden without worrying about sensor emissions or enemy scans to give the entire game away. One scout in particular was waiting in orbit of Champala with a simple yet special mission.

Skoll began, “This feels-”

Anakin raised a hand to interrupt, “Personal feelings have no place in military decisions, Knight Skoll. Do you object to my strategy?”

“We are allowing a world to be attacked when we can clearly stop it.”

“Yes.”

“People, innocent people, Republic citizens are going to die.”

“Yes.”

Skoll almost glared at Anakin, “Our duty, our oath-”

“-is to protect the Republic and that is precisely what we are going to do.”

A visible alert flashed in Briefing One, as an emergence signature registered beyond the mass shadow of Champala. Three Munificent star frigates decelerated into real space in a delta formation and began burning hard for an orbit that would bring it over Tidros - the planetary capital.

Anakin switched Briefing One’s perspective to a scout in high polar orbit and zoomed in to watch the enemy closely.

The CIS frigates made a three and half minute burn, in which he sensed Skoll’s agitation over their inaction increasing with every second.

Hyena bombers and Vultures were launched, a dozen squadrons, along with only a single droid carrier.

The local Chagrian militia’s response also finally emerged, a single squadron of frankly outdated fighters that weren’t even climbing into space to confront the attackers. The capital city also had static anti-air defenses, which in contrast to their fighters, were modern and recently installed in response to the war.

The battle was joined in the skies over the capital city - the heavier and longer reaching concussion missiles of the Chagrians streaking upward first.

The warfare shifted into the EM spectrum as jamming and chaff emerged from the CIS squadrons.

Missiles were thrown off course, lost locks and Anakin was rather surprised at the success rate the enemy was achieving in their own defense.

In the first volley, the computer tabulated only 37 kills, despite the Chagrian militia throwing hundreds of missiles at the enemy.

Anakin switched channels, “Scout Grek, are you getting good data?”

“Confirmed General, computers are logging every clanker EM emission across the board.”

The CIS response came next as every Vulture and Hyena dropped two missiles from an extra external hardpoint.

“Well, they were bound to follow our example eventually,” Anakin grumbled.

The three hundred missiles made short work of the militia fighters, with only a single fighter surviving the onslaught due to desperate evasive maneuvers.

The static defenses filled the sky over the city with bright green streams of blaster fire, cutting down the incoming missiles, desperately trying to protect the missile emplacements.

Sixty made it through, sending huge plumes of debris and fire into the sky, as the static missile emplacements detonated from secondary explosions. 

Hyena droids were now close enough to begin bombing runs and began dropping ordnance onto the city.

The AA emplacements swept the sky and killed many Hyenas, but the damage was done and inevitable.

When all was said and done, five squadrons of droids made it out of the city’s airspace and began climbing for space and to return to the Munificents.

They left a city reeling in the wake of the bombings and burning.

Anakin felt his fists clench as the computer displayed damage assessment and estimates in cold hard numbers.

Eighteen percent of the city was in ruins, most of the static missile defenses were also gone. The majority of the AA flak survived because they were spread evenly over the city, but as a consequence, they were unable to create dense anti-air denial zones.

Try to defend everything and you defend nothing.

A gesture and the view shifted to the three Munificents just sitting in orbit and awaiting the return of all their fighters.

A task they completed a mere six minutes later.

The droid carrier in the meantime had landed, disgorging numerous companies of battle droids that began marching through the city streets. It was only here the Chagrian militia had parity, deploying organized, well trained if inexperienced troops to fight the enemy with GAR weapons and equipment.

Back in orbit, the Munificents flipped and began burning for the edge of the planet’s mass shadow, leaving the droids on the ground to fight to the last.

A few minutes later, they stretched and vanished into hyperspace.

“Scout Desh, status?”

“Mission accomplished, General. We snuck beyond their shield perimeter just as they lowered it to retrieve fighters. No indication we were detected.”

“Good work. Return to hyper as soon as you are able. All scouts return except for Orenth and Shen, who will commence long term observation.”

“Roger, General.”

“We should’ve done something,” Skoll closed his eyes, striving to find balance amidst the turmoil in his spirit.

“We did, we successfully placed a stealth beacon on one of the shadow fleet. We will now be able to eventually track them down and end this once and for all. Saving the lives of all the future targets that fleet would’ve been given.”

“At the cost of many thousands here.”

“Yes, because this is war and here you must learn to be a General first and a Jedi second.”

“And… you can just make such a decision? So easily?”

“It only seems easy to you, because you’ve never sat in my chair, Skoll. I have to consider the lives of hundreds of worlds along the northern Hydian, who have even less defenses than what Champala had. Our fleet is the only line of defense that they have and if I squander this singular chance that we’ve worked so hard for, then they are lost as well.”

Skoll stepped forward and used the holo controls to shift the view back to the burning city and just stared at it, as if fixing the image permanently into memory.

“How does one reconcile this with the Code?”

“Knowledge, Skoll. To save the few before us now, consigns the many to the danger and death we are bound to protect them from. I know this and therefore act upon it. To save the few in short-sightedness, is to be willfully ignorant of the larger picture. No doubt the traditionalists will have a different interpretation and I’ll be brought before the Council, where they will try to expel me for this.”

Skoll sighed, “I’ve only truly interacted with the Council twice in my entire life. Are they that…” His face twisted, unable to find the words.

Anakin snorted a humorless laugh, “If you take up the mantle of General, be prepared to be called in on a regular basis. Thankfully, the true traditionalists are in a relative minority in the Council. The realities of the war will only whittle their numbers down further as they begin to see the truth or become one with the Force due to their own battlefield idiocy.”

“I’ve read so many war reports, seen the news, the speeches that the politicians and the chancellor make, but it never prepares you for facing the harsh reality of it all.”

“No, it doesn’t. Decisions like this will be yours to make one day. You hold the fate of worlds in your hands and must decide where your own limited strength is best deployed to save the most lives or to fulfill an objective. By our composition of forces, we are always outnumbered by the enemy and only through innovation, grit and the willingness to retreat have we remained competitive.”

Anakin carefully guarded his feelings of bitterness about the final and primary reason why the GAR hadn’t truly been defeated already.

Skoll nodded, taking his words to heart even though it was clearly difficult to reconcile with his instincts, feelings and the dogmatic Jedi teachings.

“General, we’ve received the first encrypted data burst from the beacon. We have an initial search vector.”

“Thank you, Admiral. Alter the fleet’s course to match and send scouts ahead of us.”

“At once, General,” Yularen confirmed.

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Seeing the master of an entirely different Force tradition at work was fascinating.

Of course, Padme didn’t feel that way.

She was being subjected to a training regimen that had elements of the Jedi calisthenics class that was given to most species at the human equivalent of 13 years old, when the body was physically and developmentally ready for it, and wholly different novel elements. This was not really a surprise to me, as in the ancient past, the Matukai and Jedi had openly collaborated to combat the old Sith Empire.   

I suspected that the new forms Master Kohl was teaching had evolved out of the thousands of years of instruction passing from master to apprentice and constant refinement.

The other clear difference was the sheer grueling nature of the Matukai approach.

Their focus was on using the body as the primary element in channeling the Force, the body therefore had to be constantly strengthened to allow for that. In that respect, the wan-shen was actually a weapon that a Matukai practitioner would use less and less, until it became a mere decorative symbol. If any enemy thought removing the weapon would neutralize a Matukai or even make them slightly less dangerous, they were sorely mistaken.

On day one, he had her constantly do a single form with constant focus and concentration - a flowing series of strikes, kicks, steps and seemingly nonsensical movements. The only thing she would be eating for the next two weeks would be water and a handful of high calorie fruits every day.

Naturally, I was right there next to her, also doing the training as well.

“Might as well, since you’ll sense it all anyway,” Kohl had grumbled.

There was no cabin or any bed, we slept on the loamy earth beside a particularly large tree and only for three hours.

Before the sun had even risen on the second day, Master Kohl woke us and we simply continued.

Padme was already approaching her shatterpoint by the second hour of the new form.

As much as her stubbornness, spirit and supreme will wanted to continue, as much as she had trained her mind and body with my remote instruction, her day job and upbringing didn’t allow her to go further.

Her legs gave out from under her as she gasped for air harshly. Her entire body was just a stiff mass that didn’t want to cooperate anymore.

Far from being disappointed or angry, Master Kohl seized on the moment.

He knelt right next to her prone form and spoke with soft urgency,  “Focus apprentice, look inward, further, inward, more… no, ignore the pain, it’s transitory, what you will discover now will last a lifetime, yes… there we go. Right there…”

I watched with even more fascination - Kohl was using the Force and then in an application that was both entirely new and definitely had a ‘structural’ pattern to it - he literally coaxed Padme’s spirit…

The Force gave the tiniest of ripples in front of me and then an eager joy suffused me.    

“Well done, apprentice,” Kohl smiled with a proud satisfaction at Padme, who was still a twitchy bundle of curled limbs on the ground. “You set a new record. That’s the quickest awakening I’ve ever heard of, though more than likely it’s also your prior training from Padawan Tano that helped.”

He scooted closer on his knees then began poking her body at the joints and certain key muscle groups, focusing the Force through his fingers.

Moments later, Padme was left lying on her back, now a completely relaxed puddle with limbs and just staring with wonder at the forest canopy above her, totally lost in her first true experience of the Force in her own right.

Master Kohl insistently guided me away, “Let’s give her some space and time. Her grasp on the Force is very fragile, as I’m sure you remember from your own time in the beginning.”

I could only nod.

This entire ordeal would just be the first step. Now the next hurdle was to summon the Force without being pushed to such extremes, calling it up at will. How the Matukai handled that and how Padme would manage it was another open question.

Kohl stopped us out of Padme’s hearing, “Padawan, I just wish to know. Master Ha indicated-”

“Yes, the Sith Lord will hunt down the Matukai, once his plan comes to fruition. The Jedi are his main targets, but all other Force traditions will be exterminated as well, if he has his way.”

Kohl’s eyes widened as I so accurately anticipated his entire question, then he openly scowled. “May the winds scour his black soul to ash.” He took a deep breath, the Force pulling inward and bending around him as if he was a living singularity, regaining his equilibrium. “How long do we have?”

“To be on the safe side, I suggest you and the Matukai begin a withdrawal into the deep Outer Rim no less than eight to ten months from now, and go off-grid completely. Then use the hiding technique within the Force she showed you. The actual crisis event is constantly fluctuating because of my actions, so I can’t give you more clarity. When you see the Republic nearing victory or hear of Dooku being killed - that is when you know.”

He nodded in understanding. “The war has already caused our Order to begin a general migration away from the major conflict zones. Your foresight will just speed things up and has at least warned us of the true danger we face. An actual Sith Lord…  The worst we imagined them returning, would be as fallen Jedi who had found an ancient holocron.”

“The sheer cunning of Darth Bane and his successors at work including the passage of time. Do remember that the enemy has foresight-”

“Yes Padawan, do remember who you’re talking to,” the master chided me gently. “Much like you have the Jedi Archives, we also have a method of recordkeeping. One which I suspect has secrets that have been lost from your archives. Who knows at this point what the enemy has managed to secretly delete or at least remove from the Jedi Temple over the last thousand years.”

“I would like to think that only Dooku’s access allowed that to happen recently, but…”

I looked down into the earth, letting my toes play idly with a few leaves.

Kohl placed a hand on my shoulder, “One day, when all this is over. I would very much like for the Matukai to return to a period of open collaboration with the Jedi.”

“As would I, the only question would be, in what form will you find us in.”

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A/N: The Matukai at last. I wish I had more 'screentime' for some story elements. Perhaps an interlude written alongside the main story track...hmmm. Writing Zeltron was also fun, in that their whole shtick reminds me of a pre-Slaneesh Eldar without the horrific badness. It's not just about the horizontal mambo, but everything that brings a good mood and is enjoyable to people.

Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend. Stay awesome!

The Force Wills - Chapter 135

The mass rhythmic thumping of durasteel on stone echoed through the street, a sound that would be forever ingrained in the galactic consciousness.

A drum that heralded occupation, war and destruction.

The droid forces numbered a full company of B1s, B2s with AAT support in the front and rear of the column that marched down the street in the northern sector of Iziz. Their destination and true target was not difficult to figure out, as this major road was the main thoroughfare that would lead into the western Slagworks.

The moon of Dxun was bright in the night sky, yet another sign that a storm was on the horizon. An ancient belief that had been assimilated into Onderon culture thanks to ancient Mandalorian occupation of the habitable moon.

“Fire!”

From the alleyways, roofs and windows, the combined arms of the OLF and Royal Guard troops began sending massed fire into the armored column.

Droid poppers and thermal detonators were flung into the night and detonated, turning dozens of droids into scrap.

The droid response was instant, returning fire and suppressing most of the onderonian positions.

A contingent of six Commando droids jumped out of each AAT, each throwing their own grenades towards the enemy.

Multiple buildings erupted into flame.

B2-ACMs, which had been sprinkled among their standard B2 brethren, raised their triple barrel wrist blaster and started hosing the Onderonian positions with rapid Repeater levels of fire.

The AATs, only one of which had been destroyed, traversed their turret and with a single shot, blew out the complete facing of a building, almost turning it into a crumbling ruin.

Six rupings, flown by Guard troopers, swooped down from the east, their passengers dropping thermal detonators.

The entire street was turned into a maelstrom of fire and concussive shockwaves that blew out every window.

The predators turned into tactical bombers began flapping their wings furiously, gaining speed and immediately scattering.

Steela scowled at the holoscreen in front of her, showing her the real time view from an OLF member wearing a visual sensor. She leaned on the central planning desk in the converted command center in OLF HQ and stared at me with haunted eyes. “You were right, Ahsoka.  Dxun damn it, you were right.”

I unfolded my arms and manipulated the large tactical holo model of the city, deleting the representation of the droid column.

That entire ambush and battle had been but one of nine that had occurred simultaneously, the others of which were being overseen by General Tandin and a number of his high ranking colonels. Each of which had their own holotable and were coordinating forces under their command.

“It was just a matter of time before General Kalani began to adapt his tactics to counter our own. Hence, why I suggested we use minimal personnel in these ambushes and use our Life Decoy Fighters.”

They were essentially a basic floating drone. Made with parts sourced from all over the Slagworks and thanks to Lady Thalindra’s support, the more specialized parts were also not a problem. They were no larger than human head, which could mimic a human lifesign to most droid sensors and were armed with an underslung DC-15 carbine bolted onto it.

Most of the OLF who had taken part in the ambush had actually been two blocks away, safely ensconced inside the basement of a building with the control terminals for the drones. Those terminals didn’t look any different than a large format datapad, allowing rebels to generally carry them without suspicion.

Of course, the LDFs couldn’t replace everyone on the front lines. Grenades still had to be thrown and I was still waiting for a shipment of basic grenade launchers that could be attached to them. 

“How many?” Steela asked flatly.

It was almost a ritual habit between us at this point.

“Three dead from the ambush group, seven wounded and retreating.”

She closed her eyes and her fists clenched in anger. “If only King Dendup’s plan was feasible.”

It was almost a refrain with her. The King’s initial thought had been to draw away the fighting from the capital, by a tactical retreat of loyal onderonian forces towards the eastern mountains and conduct the war there. Where the narrow passes would mean that the superior numbers of the droids would not be much of an advantage. It would also insulate the people of the city from the fighting and destruction, avoiding collateral damage and loss of innocent life.

It was a strategy that unfortunately showed the king’s lack of experience with any real form of warfare.

Such a withdrawal would only make the Onderonian army a sitting duck for CIS air power, which there was very little of in Iziz, thanks to the OLFs early strikes. That was not the case for the neighboring city of Vanreer; which according to M8s orbital observations, had three squadrons of Vultures and Hyenas ready to fly on any massed target that presented themselves. Forty thousand troops marching through the jungle would be massacred before they could even make it to the mountains.

The enemy owned the skies and whether the King liked it or not, the city, its people and infrastructure was the only shield the army had against it.

“I should be out there,” she slammed her fist against the table in frustration.

“General Steela Gerrera,” I reminded her, my eyes flashing my own pointed anger against her. “The King did not bestow that title on you lightly and you are the face of this resistance to the people. Getting yourself killed by a stray blaster bolt from a B1 is not in the interest of your people, only your enemies. Your sniping days are over and you’d be best served teaching those skills to others.”

“Who are more expendable than me, you mean?” she snapped back with hostility.

“Precisely,” I nodded. “Welcome to another real and very ugly face of war, Steela. Sending others out to achieve an objective, knowing that it's very likely that they’ll not come back.”

Her anger bubbled higher and I felt her spirit in a dark, spiraling turmoil.   

“And…what? I just accept it? Just like that?!”

“No, you accept that burden and live with it for the rest of your life,” I reached into my shirt and brought out my necklace that featured seven crystalline holotags. “These represent the six original pilots who died under my command of Wraith Squadron. The seventh is actually a datachit that features the names of every soldier of the 501st, Resolute pilot and navy man who have died whilst I was in command of the ship. Do you even want to know how many names there are?”

Steela only gaped at me, her mind struggling to come to terms with the concept. Her imagination brought up the worst as the idea settled into her head like a virus. Eventually, she shook her head, “No.”

“This burden you will carry because you have no other choice. The alternative is letting it break your spirit, at which point you will have failed not only yourself, but your people and those under your command, who look to you to be their guide through the hard times.”

Her jaw clenched and lips pursed, even as despite her own efforts, a rogue tear began trickling from her right eye and down her cheek. “Dozens of our own have died already, many more will-”

She cut herself off and angrily wiped the tear away from her face.

“It will always be painful, Steela,” I said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. It was a good sign that she didn’t shrug it off. “They fight willingly, knowing they will possibly die. That there will be no more tomorrows. They do it for their families, for the future and for the man or woman who is next to them in the fight.”

“And now I can’t die, now I can’t be next to them in the front lines.”

“Practically speaking, no. Unless you’re a Jedi and have been holding out on me all this time?”

She snorted at my lame attempt at humor, but it did manage to slightly calm the turmoil of her inner-self.

“Commander Tano!” General Tandin called over the low din of the command center, which was becoming more and more lively as alarm was sweeping through the colonels and others.

“On my way!” I gave Steela a look of support and strength, pushing on her spirit with the lightest of Battle Meditations to help her out of the spiral of defeatism. Her back straightened and a measure of surety and confidence shone out of her again like a dim light getting brighter, regaining its strength.

I hurried to the other side of the command center.

Tandin pointed at a holoscreen that showed a live view from a sniper who was on overwatch duty. “We just lost an entire squad to that.”

Hovering in the air menacingly, were five saucer shaped droid gunships.

Eleven meters in diameter with an armored upper profile, whilst its ventral side was utterly bristling with hung munitions that didn’t exactly look like a standard missile. It took me a moment to realize I was actually looking at flex ordnance launchers, which had 14 missile racks. It also had a distinct forward ‘nose’, from which a turreted heavy laser cannon and two dual mediums was hung and tracking the ground, looking for any more targets to present themselves.

Anything that got beneath that amount of firepower was dead.

The lack of armor from below told another story as well. “Let me guess, shielded?”

Tandin nodded, “Even DC-15X snipers on their most powerful setting had no effect. Anyone who tried was quickly killed by those dual mediums, which have an extremely high rate of fire.”

“Interesting that the Separatists chose Onderon to debut an entirely new gunship weapons platform. More than likely, this planet was being used as R&D for its development. Republic Intelligence would never think the enemy would do it in Republic space. You heard nothing of this?”

“Nothing specifically,” he shook his head. “I just knew that Rash had given the orders for prison labor to be diverted to somewhere in the highlands at the request of Dooku. This was just a month after his grab for power. It’s more than likely that a secret base was built there for the construction and testing of these gunship droids.”

We watched on the screen as the droid in question stopped on the spot, yawed and shot off towards another direction.

“General retreat and scatter for all units,” Tandin ordered his colonels. “Until we can take down those gunships reliably, commander, this battle cannot continue.”

“Understood, general. I’ll see to it.”

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“What do you think, Chewie?”

The big wookiee was seated on a small cargo pallet he had converted into an appropriately sized chair. A place he could rest his legs from overseeing the small ‘cottage’ factory line he had set up in a neighboring warehouse with two dozen volunteers - who were each responsible for a single step of assembling the LDF drones.

The din of mechanical assembly, the whizzing of laser welders and the rumbling of fabricators hung in the air. The volunteers, the youngest of whom were teenagers all the way to an old twi’lek grandmother, worked with a passionate zeal and minimal conversation.

“We could build a shield penetrator with local supply and industry. After all, they’re just heavily modified repulsors that create grav sheer bands that forcibly warps shield boundaries.”

I nodded, “The problem then would be militarizing it, making it small enough, sticking it on the end of a rocket small enough to be carried by a single soldier.”

“Ideally, we would ask the Jedi Council for the launchers that clone heavy assault troopers use.”

“I’ve contacted Anakin already, even if he manages his best case scenario plan, the soonest we’d see a delivery of those launchers would be in two days.”

“Could we afford that time?”

“Not really,” I sighed, my fists clenching in frustration. I could go out there right now and bring  every droid gunship down with minimal effort. The only problem was that it would be overtly the supernatural intervention of a Jedi, which I had been keeping on the down-low as much as possible. The whole ‘rebellion initiative’ would fail if it required a Jedi to constantly prop it up.

Chewie combed his fingers through the fur of his head, clearly thinking about the problem. He stared at his bowcaster, which was leaning against his chair.

“I might have an idea,” he growled eventually. “It’ll be clunky as you say and will need two people to operate.”

I frowned briefly before smiling, “How long would you need?”

“With no sleep and three of my better technicians here - come back in eight hours.”

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Chewie would not be the only one going with no sleep.

The wounded and the dying streamed into HQ.

Thankfully, I was not the only generally qualified medic anymore. With General Tandin’s mobilization had come fifteen doctors and 78 nurses of various specialties.

We had quickly run out of space within the first hour and outright commandeered the nearest suitable building to turn it into a field hospital. Further constraining us was the need to be discreet, as the droid gunships were patrolling the skies above our heads. The only advantage we had was that there were only five of them and General Tandin had set up an observer network that were reporting their position at all times.

“Aargghhl-”

The writhing male togruta soldier went silent underneath my hand as I rendered him unconscious with the Force. His lower right leg was barely held on by a sinew of flesh, whilst a field tourniquet was the only thing that had kept him from bleeding out on the way here.

All the medtechs had brought as much supplies as they could reasonably carry on their backs and hospitals had donated bacta patches and entire containers of the life preserving fluid, as much as they could afford to give away. Yet it seemed in just two days of battle, we were burning through those supplies at an unsustainable rate.

“Commander?” prompted the rather mousy looking human nurse, Lezi, who was helping me. 

“Give him a general antibiotic, the leg is gone.”

My lightsaber burst into brilliant green life and with a slight flick, I severed the leg and cauterized the major blood vessels.

Lezi flinched at the sight of the weapon, but quickly recovered and administered the medication with a hypo.

I spent the next five minutes using the Force to ensure the arterial pressure would be held, before reaching down and pulling off the tourniquet.

“Bacta bandage.”

Lezi unwrapped the precious thing and secured it over the stump.

“Plasma infusion.”

She put a large medical brace around the soldier’s upper arm and tapped a few buttons on it. It whirred into life as it gave artificial blood replacement for that which the soldier had lost from its internal reservoirs.

I spent the next minute with my mind’s eye within the togruta’s body, encouraging natural blood production, speeding up the digestive system, balancing the disrupted metabolism and easing the shock symptoms.

“Mark him stable, we must move on.”

It was just the beginning and I wished I could just let the next ten hours blur into a mess of memory, but my training made that impossible.

I remembered each treatment, each death.

The feeling of having to use the Force to wade into the guts of someone, pull out every bit of shrapnel lodged in them and stitch them back up.

The argument with a stubborn doctor who didn’t want my ‘Jedi nonsense’ helping his patients.

“Doctor Jorva, I have trained under the best Jedi Healers in the galaxy, who in one case has almost seventeen doctorates from a variety of the best universities that you could care to name.”

I glared at the stubborn man, acutely aware that we were making a scene and distracting from the life saving work going on around us. In response, he puffed up and tried to look down on me, despite the fact that he was actually just slightly shorter than I was.

“This is a place of science and medicine, not your mysticism-”

My hand came up in a blink and I twitched it, bodily grabbing the idiot with the Force and sent him twirling upward into the ceiling, as if he had just entered a null gravity zone.

“Wh- what?! Stop! Let me down! Undo this-”

A somewhat theatrical twitch of my finger sent him into slumberland, whilst I dumped him onto the floor beside a bed and out of the way. The eruption of both amusement, relief and astonishment from every nurse and doctor around me, told the story of how Jorva was regarded by everyone. 

I hurried to the patient that he had been stopping me from seeing. “Lezi, 3 mil Pomezzid now.”

“Yes, commander,” she hurried to comply, filling a hypo as I hurriedly tried to fix an arrhythmic heart that had been just seconds from giving out completely.

Twenty minutes of delicate work later, I was done, but now I had to pay the price by taking over and checking Jorva’s patients.

Thankfully, for all his bluster and stubbornness, he was a fairly good doctor and medtech. There were no glaring oversights besides the one I had just intervened in. 

My comlink chirping interrupted the checking of a nasty blaster wound to the chest, which had collapsed a lung.

“Yes, Chewie?”

“It’s as ready as it will be.”

“Be there in ten minutes.”

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The weapon looked like Chewie had taken inspiration from the Fatman portable nuke launcher, except it was a closed durasteel pipe, nearly one and half meters long, with a barrel diameter of 25 centimeters. A curved pad was bolted on underneath so the user could rest it on a shoulder. The handles looked like they had been cut straight from a speeder bike, whilst two small datapads welded on both sides of the launcher acted as a computerized aiming mechanism. 

One of the largest technicians in Chewie’s employ, a burly twi’lek, was hefting the entire thing on his shoulder, testing the ergonomics, how easily it could be moved and aimed.

On the floor of the workshop were ten rounded bulky projectiles. They were so fresh off the assembly line that they hadn’t even bothered to paint the exterior alloy.

“Ahsoka, you look just about as good as I feel,” Chewie grumbled tiredly from his makeshift seat on a bucket.   

I was operating on a deficit at this point, using the Force to sustain my alertness and energy levels.

With a minor grunt of effort I picked up a projectile, probing it with technometry.

It had the guts of a high yield thermal detonator as a warhead, whilst the propulsion was the primary field coils and controls of a repulsor that had started its life inside the drivetrain of a speeder.

I frowned, “Where’s the shield pen?”  

Chewie gave me a toothy grin of wookiee satisfaction. “The repulsor itself becomes that in the final moments, just before shield contact is made. There is a proximity sensor in the front that precisely tells the onboard computer when to shift from propulsive to grav shear mode. It naturally burns itself out, but that doesn’t matter, when in the next few milliseconds it explodes against the hull of the droid gunship.”

I carefully put the projectile down and placed a hand on the launcher tube.

Here, Chewie had replicated the polarizing orbs of a bowcaster, which created a magnetic field that launched the projectile with an initial kick.

My mind tumbled around a few estimates, calculating the possible initial velocity it would be able to give that much mass.

“Chewie, please tell me you’ve accounted for recoil.”

“Sorry, Ahsoka, not in the time we have. This is just the prototype and if I can spend another few days on it, then I’ll be able to make a compensator. As it is, the launcher will rip itself out of the user’s grip, and damage itself after every shot. I estimate you can use it for two shots, maybe three before it’s beyond repair.”

“Accuracy will be a problem too.”

“The aiming program in the datapad will work out and show where the user has to aim after designating a target. The repulsors we have are too imprecise to do much more than give a few degrees of offset steering, given how fast it would be going.”

“So no sniping the gunship from a safe distance.”

“To guarantee a hit, you need to shoot it as it’s travelling away from you, max range given the weight of the projectile is about 900 meters.”

“In an urban environment that’s good enough. Necessity is forcing our hand. Good work, Chewie, I know you did your utmost.”

“Thank me when we don’t have those shadow cursed dropships over our heads.”

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He stared at the so-called ‘weapons’ that were meant to take back the skies of Iziz.

“What are the men calling them?” Saw asked, trying his best not to look inappropriately at Ahsoka.

It was just so difficult when she was wearing a top that most Onderonian women would consider underwear. Yet apparently it was considered somewhat normal in some parts of the galaxy. The early morning heat had been somewhat onerous today, but it was clear that as an offworlder, she was not used to the persistent hot humidity and her light orange skin was glistening with sweat.

“Skybangers,” her mouth twitched with clearly suppressed amusement, even as her deep blue eyes looked seriously at the carefully selected volunteers who would make the attempt.

Ten of the largest soldiers that were in the combined Onderonian forces, who were training to wield it successfully. None of them were below 1.9 meters in height and the lightest of them weighed 83 kilos.

The wookiee who had built the things were right there next to them, answering questions and demonstrating functionalities and quirks of the cobbled together weapons.

Anyone in their right mind would take one look at the Skybangers and swiftly say, ‘No thanks,’ and run in the other direction. Only the desperate situation with the Separatist Hailfire gunships (yet another designation that had stuck in the minds of everyone) hovering over the city and gunning down anything and anyone that looked remotely like a ‘rebel’, would convince you otherwise.

They had been loitering and patrolling the skies above Iziz for nearly twelve hours before they finally landed for a refueling and maintenance cycle.

It was insanity that something had that good of a performance, but it had come at an observable cost. 

The gunship had never been seen going faster than 100kph and since there were only five of them at the moment, they couldn’t possibly cover the relatively vast area of the city fast enough. It had allowed some room for operations against the enemy to resume, but attacking any large droid formation was out of the question. It was also only a matter of time before the enemy pushed into the west and currently there was nothing they could do to stop them.

Sergeant Chewbacca growled a warning to everyone in the warehouse, as one of the volunteers hefted a training version of the Skybanger onto their shoulder. 

Saw hurriedly stuffed the hearing plugs into his ears.

The soldier aimed at a target point painted on one of the duracrete walls.

The projectile being fired was also a simulator, but it did nothing to prepare for what Saw experienced next.

One moment, the soldier was braced and aiming -

- the next the Skybanger tube was flying backward, the concussion rattled Saw’s lungs and he felt it down to his bones. The entire warehouse was filled with dust as it was shaken loose from the rafters.

He looked left to the target and there was only a slight scruff mark and blue paint to mark where the projectile had actually hit - just about a meter high from the center point.

A glance right showed Ahsoka was completely unaffected. No togruta or twi’lek had been chosen among the volunteers because of the violent concussion, as it was much easier for humans to shield their own hearing. Yet another advantage of being a Jedi, he supposed.

“Think this will work?”

“It has to only work once,” she said, her hands coming to rest on her hips and her eyes gaining that distant look. “Our opponent, despite being advanced, is still a droid. It will force him to recalculate his deployment and use of the gunships.”

“Hopefully buying time for Chewbacca and his team, to make better versions.”

She looked at him seriously, “You ready for this, Saw?”

His answer was direct and to the point, “Yes.”

“Force be with you all.”

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The air was heavy and the first drops of what promised to be another rain storm began falling on his coat.

In moments the dull hissing roar filled his ears.

Onderonians called this kind of rain Jovrup, where the individual droplets were bigger than a man’s thumb and the splash from the hard street surface sent smaller droplets upward to at least knee level.

Saw held up a fist to halt the strike team, and everyone kneeled in the lee of a tall building. He checked that each soldier had adequately protected their weapon from the downpour with the provided rain tarps.

The street lighting was still on and they were in a pool of darkness, not that it would help too much from being seen or scanned, but B1 targeting was so rubbish that it was at least an effective defense.

Satisfied, he gestured forward and they advanced down the street.

So far, so good, he thought as he jogged with his rifle shouldered and scanning for targets. Each man carrying a Skybanger had them slung over their backs, and were also carrying DC15 carbines for self defense. Their support partner carried the heavy projectiles in a backpack harness, who also had the job to actually load it into the launcher. Ten men, five launchers, each with two shots.

Their target - a droid convoy that was heading west through the southern routes.

It didn’t take a tactical droid or any genius to figure out at this point that the OLF HQ would be somewhere in the Slagworks and this Kalani was clearly making a play for it.

They were tracking two more armored droid offensives who were pushing through the city, also heading west.

The Onderonian forces had no choice but to stop them and there were only enough launchers for one strike team. 

He paused the team at the edge of the next intersection and carefully used his macrobinoc to take an image snapshot of what was potentially waiting for them.

The hand signal for clear was a visible relief for everyone.

They surged across the street as quickly as their legs could carry them, acutely aware of the potential for long range surveillance and commando droid snipers.

Saw and the rest of the team were breathing harshly, their trek to get into position covertly had taken them across three kilometers of flood water tunnels, sewage and it was only now that they had no choice but to risk street level travel.   

“Scout, 180,” whispered their rear guard harshly.

He didn’t hesitate and they dove for the darkness of an alleyway.

The scout in question was a single B1, used in the dual role of playing bait for any eager resistance member or ferreting out potential hotspots, whilst acting as eyes and ears for the main droid column.

The roaring rain was thankfully an impediment to the enemy in that respect.

The droid passed the alley, only pausing for the slightest moment to look into it.

It saw only darkness and the looming forms of trash barges.

Saw sighed in relief and patted the tiny little device on his waist that was scrambling their life signs.

The strike team emerged from behind the barge and resumed the journey.

“All right, we’re inside their outer perimeter, eyes in the sky, men,” he tapped the comlink stuck to his throat. Such a simple thing that solved so many problems with team communication in such a noisy environment.

It was just two streets later, with their hearts in their throats from anxious stress, that they made the first visual contact with the armored droid column.

Two companies of B2s, three AATs, with two Hellfires hovering protectively over them.

Only a single line of buildings separated them from certain death at the moment and their usual tactic of using ascension guns to the rooftops would be suicide.

The only line of fire they’d get would be the crossing intersection the column was passing through. That was another two hundred meters in the direction they had just come from.

Saw made the split second decision to retrace their steps.

They were sprinting now, but with the weight on the backs of the team, it was a jog at best.

He gestured to the approaching intersection, making the hand signals and pointing up at the sky.

The first soldier in the lead of their team unhitched his launcher even as they were still running.

Everyone hurriedly scattered to make as much room as possible as no one could be behind the Skybanger tube.

The loader hefted the projectile in and closed the breach, slapping his partner on the back.

“Hold,” Saw hissed, even as he aimed for the broad saucer shaped droid that loomed into view.

They had to wait for the diversionary attack to happen first.

He knew that Ahsoka was on overwatch and coordinating things, so why…

Even as he thought it, what seemed like a swarm of drones swooped out of the rainy sky and opened fire.

Blue blaster bolts began raining on the enemy, biting into B2 armor, occasionally scoring a kill shot.

The Hailfire droids frantically looked for an engageable target but found their sensors swarmed with life sign readings that irrationally indicated that it was surrounded with flying organics shooting down into the B2 column that it was supposed to protect. Their medium blasters spooled up and rapid fired through the air, hitting nothing.

The drones were too nimble, moving too erratically.

“Now!” Saw ordered.

The Skybanger roared.

The launcher ripped itself away from the soldier, the edge of the aiming datapad clipped him about the face, tearing skin and only the helmet he was wearing saved his ear from being sliced off.

Even at a safe distance, Saw felt like someone had punched him in the ribs from the residual concussion.

Yet the Hailfire droid remained in the air and in the far distance, a flash of an explosion in the low lying clouds.

A miss.

“Next, again!”

The soldier surged to his feet, rushing to retrieve the fallen launcher.

Another duo was already taking their place, the projectile already loaded.

Saw tried to brace, but the concussion was just too much. Even the falling rain around them was visibly disturbed by the launcher firing.

The poor visibility was not helping either.

A hit!

The Hailfire droid was tilted violently in the air, struggling to retain its orientation, a gout of fire rising into the air that was quickly snuffed out in the downpour. It was as if a large creature had bit out a section of the saucer.

The rainy night was suddenly lit with an eye searing flash as the Hailfire’s very exposed onboard ordnance detonated in a massive secondary explosion.

Only the building they were using as cover saved them from the worst of the overpressure, whilst their helmets saved their hearing.

Saw blinked fiercely, trying to regain his natural night vision. He thumbed the link on his neck, “Next, aim for the next, fire!”

He was barely aware of the strike team obeying and he regained his sight just as the first enemy shots came in their direction.

Thankfully, the angle meant that only the edge of the building they were using as cover in the intersection was hit.

The third duo of the strike team flung themselves back into cover, unable to get their shot.

Saw rolled right, plastering himself against the building, edging forward to take a peek.

He had just a few seconds of sight before he had to twitch his head back, narrowly avoiding a blaster bolt to the forehead.

The second Hailfire droid was hovering just twenty odd meters away, above roof level with all its regular blasters aiming at their position. The two eerie photoreceptors on its ‘face’ glowing a malevolent red in the night. A contingent of B2s were advancing on the ground, with their arms up and ready to fire.

Saw knew one thing at that moment, to stay there was death.

He frantically gestured for a retreat, not even bothering to shout over the cacophony of pouring rain and competing blaster fire from drones and droids.

Somehow, his men seemed to miraculously fall in line exactly as he had envisioned it, his hand signals barely needed.

They rushed down the street as fast as their legs could carry and formed a firing line from the sidewalk and into the street itself, each soldier spaced apart from each other and their respective loaders kneeling next to each.

The first B2 that came into view died just as it tried to fire.

Saw weathered the concussion from the Skybanger as the B2 was practically sliced in half from the grav shear of the projectile. The detonation only occurred when the round buried itself in an adjacent building, ripping a great hole out of it and sending a plume of fire into the dark sky.

The surging debris and shockwave bowled over a number of advancing B2s, but they crawled awkwardly back to their feet and continued to advance with machine-like inevitability.

The next B2 appeared and this time Saw lost sight of the street, as the round dug into the stone paving first and detonated at the feet of the enemy.

Stone, debris and street tiling shattered and a great gout of it was heaved upward into the air, quickly collapsing into a large crater.

It was getting even more difficult to see as any surrounding street lighting had long since been shattered.

Debris joined in the rain from the heavens, clattering around them.

It took a few extra seconds for the next singular B2 to appear and with a flash of realization, Saw understood what the enemy was doing.

By sending in only the single droid, which they had no choice but to engage with the Skybanger, the enemy was forcing them to use up their limited ordnance. Sacrificing B2s to protect the Hailfire.

The heavy roar of the Skybanger slammed into them and the B2 was reduced to scrap.

He looked behind them and knew that the only reason they hadn’t been flanked from behind by the enemy was the drone swarm.

What was the solution?

This Hailfire had to die.

Retreat? Not an option.

Flank left or right? There was no room for such maneuvering.

The only way was…

Saw grabbed the nearest soldier with a functioning Skybanger by the scruff of the neck, shoving him forward, “Charge! For the crater!”

He began running, not even doubting for a singular moment that they would be behind him.

The B2 that inevitably appeared out of the night gloom, walking around the crater in the street aimed…

Saw felt no desperation and no despair, even as he was staring down the triple barrel of a B2 blaster arm.

His carbine came up one handed as he ran and fired, squeezing the trigger as fast as he could.

The B2 didn’t fire.

It slumped forward dead, from a blaster shot that had, with sniper precision, perfectly gone down the sensor cluster in the left shoulder.

Saw couldn’t take the time to marvel at the luck it must have taken to achieve that shot with a simple DC15 carbine and jumped into the muddy crater, already quarter full with rainwater. The strike team jumped a moment later, some keeping their feet and others losing balance, spilling their launchers into the freezing cold water.

Saw looked up into the gloomy sky and his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest.

The Hailfire was there, barely thirty meters ahead, its guns and flex launchers angling to fire directly on them.

At least it’ll be quick, was the tiny thought in his mind, but it was drowned out by the confidence and surety that this was the right play.

Resistance drones swooped out of the sky, a handful of them practically landed on the dorsal section of the Hailfire, flaring its shields into visibility briefly.

The droid was distracted, its targeting and firing sequence paused to yaw quickly to shrug off the drones it perceived erroneously as potentially a greater threat.

It was too late.

“FIRE! FIRE!”

Saw felt like a giant boot had just kicked him in the side.

Then there was a dull pain in his shoulder as he was flung against the crater edge.

Two Skybanger launchers had fired simultaneously.

The strike team had fired knowing that it would probably kill them.

The Hailfire droid was struck on the ventral side.

The light of the explosion seared his eyes even though he was looking away, he felt the heat briefly and…

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He blinked and for a brief moment, didn’t know where or even who he was. He had been fighting something? Then… light… then darkness…

It was a threadbare room, he was lying on a bed, a thin blanket covering his body. Then the pain hit and… Saw? Yes, that’s my name.

He lifted his arms, which were practically encased in bacta bandages. He tried to sit up but the pain convinced him otherwise. It was like someone was stabbing him in the back with a blunt knife.

The memory of the battle came screaming back like a meteor entry.

He grit his teeth, resisting the urge to scream, cry and whimper all at once.

“Easy Saw, you’re fine, you’re alive, you’re safe.”

A light orange hand on his shoulder, he looked to the side and… Ahsoka? was there. 

Her beautiful artfully patterned face smiled at him gently and it suddenly felt like his inner being was being submerged in the warmest, most luxurious bath imaginable. His turmoil vanished before her light like a mere mist encountering the early morning sun.

“W-what-” he coughed, his parched throat unable to form words.

She picked up a glass of water, pushing in a drinking straw and poked the other end gently into his mouth.

He drank greedily and his throat basked in the relief of the life giving moisture passing through it.

There was only one thing he wanted to know.

“Did we succeed?”

“You did, Saw,” she nodded seriously.

“How many of my team are still alive?”

“Seven, most of them died due to overpressure from the explosion. You were against the side of the crater, partially submerged in the rainwater, which saved you from the worst of it.” He blinked and for the first time noticed that Steela was there as well, seated in a chair near the foot of the bed, completely asleep. “She’s been by your side for most of the day, ever since the doctors allowed it.”

“How long has it been?”

“You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Saw braced himself against the pain and pushed himself up urgently. Ashoka rushed forward to prop up his back with extra pillows. “The battle, tell me,” he demanded.

She shook her head, “I see you won’t take it easy. Very well, it finally ended about nine hours ago. Iziz has been liberated from Separatist control, we’re just mopping up individual droid stragglers at this point. With some preparation, we’ve managed to use tactical power grid shutdowns to effectively herd and starve them. Rash has been arrested and General Kalani has fled as well. Whether he will remain to continue the fight from another city or be smuggled offworld will depend on what Dooku decides.”

“So King Dendup is back on the throne properly, we have the keys to the orbital defense grid.”

Saw felt only a bone deep satisfaction.

After all the suffering and sacrifice, the day had finally come.

“The latter will take a while. Unfortunately, Rash and Kalani, as a last act of spite, encrypted the grid controls with a complex cipher. It’s currently targeting every ship not flying a Separatist transponder, so for the moment, we’re still limited in getting supplies through it with cloaked ships. I’m working on a plan to get it back under onderonian control but it will not be a fast fix.”

“Is he dead yet?”

“No, your King is wisely letting actual justice take its course. He’s establishing a new court and Rash will be tried and judged, though Dendup will still need to sign off on whatever punishment they decide.”

“It’s only a formality at this point,” Saw sneered.

“Correct, but it needs to happen, for the sake of your societal cohesion, future descendants and history. They need to see that even in the darkest night, that you held onto the candle of civilization. That you did not descend into mob justice and barbarism.”

He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted, lacking the strength to argue, “I’m sure you’re right, Ahsoka, but… did he ever give a fair trial to those he persecuted?”

“No, but is that cause to imitate him? To do that, is to die another kind of death. No longer will you be the Saw that will move heaven and earth for your sister. That would sacrifice himself for fellow soldiers by his side. That would charge into a B2’s sightline, knowing its almost certain death, yet going anyway. The same can be said for Onderonian society as a whole.”

“Saw?!”

He winced with pain as he suddenly was surrounded by the warm hug of a little sister and her face was buried into his shoulder.

All thoughts of Rash and revenge fled like scalded dalgos as he carefully brought his injured arms around her and felt her tears on his neck.

“I’m here, Steela… I’m here.”

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A/N: The general Onderon arc will end here, but the war for the planet continues in the background. Hope you enjoyed, have a great weekend and stay awesome folks.

2078: Highriders - Chapter 11

We let our Sandevistans lapse and reduced the relative speed of our cyberspace back to normal meatspace, returning our perceptions to human standard.

“Who are you, Earthers?” asked an Eclipse, the presumed leader of the party stepped forward to gather our attention.

I almost laughed, it was a neat trick. The actual one who had spoken was to my left, bouncing his radio signal among his fellows before it reached us. My head tilted slightly towards the bait offering, showing to them that I had made the assumption they wanted me to make. In one glance, I scanned all of them, feeding their body profiles and proportions into my database. Hopefully, Gakulu would have a database of his own to make potential matches. Who knew there’d come a day where I missed the ol’ NCPD database. The highriders undoubtedly had their own version, but their police force assuredly did not subcontract to Edgerunners. It was more likely that even the highrider database didn’t have a full listing of elusive workgroups like the Eclipse, who could have members born to it that wouldn’t even see Tycho city before they were full adults.

Johnny and I had made sure our own weapons stayed down as we landed, no need to trigger this off earlier than it had to be.

“The name’s V, next to me is Hollow.”

“Understand this, V, Hollow,” said the leader. “The only reason you aren’t sucking vacuum through new holes in your suit, is because you did us a favor in getting rid of those umdaka-nuka (dirt sniffers) who were going into our territory.”

“Kufuneka sibabulale kwaye sithathe izixhobo zabo,” (We should just kill them and take their gear.) said another Eclipse to our right. Our translation soft kept up nicely, though it was making some educated guesses as this workgroup was isolated for long enough to develop some of their own vernacular and spin on the general highrider language.

“Yes, let’s anger the most powerful Starjack tribe there is,” said a female Eclipse sarcastically, one of four amongst the ambushers. “I’m sure that orbit will go smooth the next time we have to trade with them.”

“So you know who we work for?” I asked, letting some surprise color my tone.

“We do, it seems old Gakulu is up to his usual tricks. And no, Earther, I will not tell you how we know,” said the presumed leader.

“Siyamxola Gakulu, siyi-Eclipse. Sihlala sisindile. Sibathatha!” (“Screw Gakulu, we are Eclipse. We have always survived. We take them!”)

“Nahola, I have spoken,” said the leader to the belligerent one. The various Eclipse around us grew tense in their postures and I could see their body heat begin to spike in anticipation. The actual leader stepped out of the circle surrounding us and pointed to Nahola. “Are you challenging me?”

“They have taken from the tribe, Yawa. What was on the umdaka-nuka, who trespassed on our territory, all their lives and equipment are forfeit to us, by our laws,” said Nahola, gesturing with his left hand in agitation, his right hand straining hard on the handle of his railgun.

“We will gain good salvage from the umdaka, the remains of the linear frame alone will be worth more than the workgroup could make in half a year,” Yawa argued passionately, taking his hands off his own rifle and opened his palms towards his interlocutor in an imploring gesture. I could see the subtle potential for violence in that stance.

“We kill these two, we will get all that and more. They also trespassed. You are not upholding our laws, Yawa. If you refuse-”

“Our workgroup’s laws are not inflexible barriers, it’s at my discretion, especially when dealing with all outsiders.”

“I invoke-”

The discharge from the pistol at Yawa’s hip was impressively fast, to a degree that showed that he definitely had a reflex bioware.

Nahola stood absolutely still for a moment, his hand coming to clutch at his neck, but his legs were already crumpling in, unable to hold his weight up, as he fell slowly to the regolith.

The blood leaking directly into vacuum began instantly boiling, before the inherent cold flash froze it into a fine crystalline mist that pushed out with every beat of the dying man’s heart.   

I saw his suit instantly try to seal the breach smartly with a hardening fluid layer, but the damage to the spine was catastrophic.

He didn’t even twitch, utterly paralyzed and struggling to breathe.

I looked around as Nahola’s fellow Eclipse members didn’t move a muscle to help their dying tribemate.

What sort of cultural shit I had just witnessed I couldn’t even begin to guess. If any nomad on Earth had challenged their family’s leader in such a way, in most cases, it would be settled non-lethally, with varying ways - a wrestling match, a target shootout or even something as civilized as an on-the-spot election, such as what the Aldecaldos generally did. The harshness of survival on Luna seemingly brought an entirely different set of priorities in the people living on it.

Yawa holstered his pistol and looked around at his fellows, talking to them on a different frequency for nearly three minutes.

I don’t know what he was saying, either pleading the case for his actions or just giving a speech or perhaps inviting anyone else to challenge his leadership. There were seemingly no takers and with a gesture from him, two Eclipse members grabbed their deceased tribemate and jumped down the nearby crater with the body.

“Now that that problem is behind us, I take it you’re mercs?”

“Correct,” I said, falling into the familiar cold mindset.

“Interesting that Gakulu would be hiring Earth mercs, when he has more than enough homegrown talent that could do the job or perhaps it's just that he needs the deniability for some reason.” We naturally didn’t respond to the obvious bait. We could hear the grin in Yawa’s voice, “Good to see he went with true professionals. Now, whilst I am going to let you go about your way. I am going to insist that you do a simple delivery job for me in return. Nahola was arrogant and spoiling for the fight you took, which was why he was so insistent on killing you. However, he was technically correct and so I need to extract some concessions from you.”

I gave Johnny a look.

‘Careful V, guys like this. It’s like dealing with the Raffen.’

While I doubt that the Eclipse workgroup would appreciate being compared to nomad criminal outcasts who lived outside the bounds of even that loose society, they had a seemingly similar level of extreme disregard for life. If they could invoke duels to death for leadership so quickly and with little fanfare or preparation.

“What do you need delivered and where?” I asked.

“Nothing strenuous, a shard and coordinates for the delivery will be written on it.” He reached into a pocket of his harness and held out the shard in question.

I carefully let my SMG dangle from my chest rig and made a single slight hop forward, holding out my hand.

Yawa put the shard into my palm and immediately closed my hand around it, not letting me see the coordinates.

“You do this properly, V, Hollow, then consider yourselves having the right of passage through any Eclipse territory and conduct operations within it, as long as you agree to a 50/50 loot split.”

“Your territory is not exactly drawn on a map,” I retorted, rightly questioning the value of what he was offering. Sure, he was seemingly letting us leave with our lives, but the moon was still a big place, relatively speaking.

“From our point of view, all of Luna belongs to the highriders and Eclipse territory is where our tribe currently rests. Suffice it to say, we are nearby and in the future our paths may cross again if you’re going to keep accepting work here.”

I pulled my hand away from him, “Fine. Deal.”

He nodded and hopped away from me, gesturing high in a circular motion, “Eclipse, siyakhwela!”

They immediately began a general retreat, hopping in reverse, not turning their backs to us. One group disappeared into the void of the nearby crater, whilst the other quickly crested the nearby hill.

When we were left alone the lunar night, I opened my hand and regarded the shard, briefly flaring the IR illuminator in my suit to get a read on what was written on it.

I snorted in amusement as I quickly referenced the coordinates.

“What is it?” Johnny asked

“The shard is referencing Gakulu’s office on Tycho, precisely.”

“Fuck, more double blind spy shit,” he groused.

“Certainly seems that way, or we’re merely go betweens in a highrider pissing contest.”

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A full Earth day of boring travel later, in which we had to go through the motions in keeping the cover that had been developed for our undercover journey, we were back at last in Tycho City.

Gakulu listened to our report, his arms folded and leaning back in his office chair, his eyes mostly staring into the screen on his desk. 

It was displaying an image series and video, mostly taken from our own optics, RALF and satellite imagery of the battle aftermath.

“Nicely done, the both of you,” he eventually declared, tapped a few keys on his computer and my accounts instantly registered the agreed payment plus another 10k eddies. “Consider that a bonus for the impromptu Eclipse job and not opening fire on them off the bat. Most mercs in your position would’ve shot first.”

I nodded, “It helped that the Eclipse actually talked first after springing their ambush. The lead would usually be flying first in any other situation like that.”

“Nevertheless, thank you. I know both your capabilities and you most likely could’ve mowed through them. They might hold themselves apart from the highriders for the most part, but they’re still part of us. Each unnecessary highrider death is a permanent loss that we’re not getting back in number easily.”

“Yet the Eclipse seems to find it very easy to just enter into abrupt death duels,” Johnny commented.

“As you’ve surmised, each workgroup will tend to develop its own subculture. From the Eclipse point of view, they have one less troublesome mouth sucking in air or eating food. Everything Nahola had will be recycled or reused. One of their women will have already received permission for pregnancy.”

Gakulu reached over his desk and palmed the shard from Yawa, before slotting it into a separate air gapped reader. He stared at the multitude of files that sprang forth on his screen.

“He’s your… contact in the Eclipse. Spy is the wrong word because he openly gave us this shard in front of all his men,” I surmised.

“You could say he’s the closest thing to a representative that the Eclipse has with the Confederation. As much as they loathe the idea of our form of governance, they understand its necessity in the face of outside pressure from Earth corps and governments. It’s also to make sure that Eclipse does not go too far off the rails, as that would just invite corpos to start a crackdown and go hunt them down. It’s not ideal communication, slow, but at least it’s there.”

“I guess it’s also lucky that Eclipse was in the area, they’ll do the site sanitation for you and when Arasaka investigates they’ll find only what you want them to.”

Gakulu gave a small lopsided grin, “Yes, lucky indeed. We’ve incidentally confirmed that the SovOil facility has been compromised by Arasaka. In just a few days, the accidents will begin.”

“Good to know, but we don’t need to, Manager Gakulu,” I said, giving him a flinty eyed stare.

“It’s something you’re no doubt going to find out yourself anyway, V. I know you netrunner types.”

“Fair enough,” I admitted with a mild smile. “Any new gigs on the horizon?”

“Always, but these need to simmer a bit first. Take a few days on the town with your well earned eddies or if you’re that eager, by now word of your presence will have made it to many workgroups. You can expect to find customers knocking on your door when they muster up the courage to actually approach.”

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We had barely dropped and settled our gear back in the apartment on Tycho Heights when Johnny decided to fully embrace Gakulu’s suggestion.

“See ya later, V,” he gave a brief wave and headed for the door.

“Don’t go too crazy, okay?” I said insistently, knowing full well what a Johnny bar hopping spree involved.

“Fine, at least there’s no real cars for me to total out here.”

When the front door closed behind him, I whipped into existence a quick custom spy daemon that would keep tabs on him from cyberspace, just in case someone decided to give a drunk Johnny some trouble. I was more worried about the other guys though, as anyone stupid enough to irritate Johnny Silverhand in the current state-of-the-art Edgerunner body he had inherited from me deserved to be educated. The problem was that his current non-existent rep as Hollow was not enough to keep the low level riff-raff at bay and they would try their luck.

On the bright side, that moment was also when a ping came through that Panam had received and read my message.

A quick check of the apartment to secure everything and I flung myself onto my bed and dove into cyberspace.

My avatar instantiated above the datapool and I hovered myself down to the deck chair, my mind already opening a virtual infopane in front of me that was plunging the data link through satellites towards Southern California.

Another stealth ping brought me Panam’s handheld phone location as being just six miles from LA’s northern outskirts.

It also allowed me to see a total of three spy daemons that were just waiting for her phone to pop up back on the grid. Naturally, they were from Arasaka and NetWatch, but I struggled to identify the last one. It was very slippery, hiding quite effectively and it was only when I asked Butcher for a little help that it allowed me to see that it was an FIA daemon.

Now why would Reed and by extension the NUSA be wanting to keep tabs on Panam?

Was she flagged as a person of interest simply because, as a nomad, she’d be more likely to be traversing through NUSA at some point and I’d definitely be contacting her in the future for some reason?

FIA paranoia at its finest.

I killed the two corpo daemons out of hand with no more effort than a gesture of code deletion, but encased the FIA spy bot in an infosphere that would feed it believable bullshit for the duration of my call.

Reed taught his lessons too well. 

“V! Oh, I just knew you’d manage to do it!”

I was treated to a view out of the tiny cam of her phone. Panam Palmer’s big smile was sprinkled with the dust of the desert, her dark smoldering eyes twinkling with eager excitement. Her back was leaning against the door of her Thornton and I could see in the background the beginnings of an Aldecaldos camp taking shape. Dozens of people moving about, unloading supplies, pitching desert rated tents, the trucks unfolding into the mobile structures that held the essential services needed.

“Good to see you too, Panam. How’s the family?”

“Fuck V, you call after all this time and that’s what you ask?”

“Panam, you somewhat know the deep shit I was in. No way I’d ghost my second unofficial family forever.”

While I hadn’t been initiated into the Aldecaldos formally, they still considered me part of their family anyway. The only reason that branch of the greater Aldecaldos still existed as a flourishing, cohesive whole, was due to my intervention in a number of critical situations.

“Good to hear. I can tell you, Mitch and the family are going to throw a party the instant I tell him this good news.”

“Make sure he downs an extra Broski on my behalf,” I laughed with delight, already imagining the kind of celebration it would be. The Aldecaldos generally didn’t do things by half-measures, especially now that Panam and Saul, the original leader of the branch, had joint leadership of the clan.

“I’ll do that. Now where the fuck are you, V? You look like you’re at your mansion sunning yourself in a bikini I wouldn’t wear in a million years.”

I made a quick mental calculation of her position and the current relative phase of the moon. She would perceive it in a waning gibbous phase, which was good enough. “Look up and to your right, about twenty degrees to your north-east.”

I giggled at her cute confused frown as she tried to comply, her head looking up and tilting as she stared into the bright daylight sky. Her eyes widened as realization washed over her.

“Fuck… the moon?!”

“Got it in one. Check your news feeds for the Crystal Palace as well.”

“Let me guess, a gig that made international news?”

“You know me too well, Panam.”

“Girl, you are going places!”

“I suppose I am, but with regard to space and the moon, don’t believe all the marketing hype - it also has a shithole.”

“Like anything, not that it should surprise me and you’re probably dealing with that shit right now.”

“Perils of being an Edgerunner,” I shrugged.

“So, just to confirm, you’re fine? No problems?”

“Perfect health.” It was the best I could say at the moment and it had the virtue of being quite true.

“Fuck yeah-”

The video feed jerked, shuddered and I heard the distortion through the audio pickup in her phone, which suddenly spiked with a sound so intense it could only lead me to one conclusion - a nearby explosion.

For a moment, all I wanted to do was shout ‘Panam!’

I overrode that useless impulse and dialed the cyberspace to meatspace dilation up as high as I dared.

With a thought, I moved through Panam’s phone firewall with no more effort than walking through a wet paper bag.

I started slashing through the onboard bloatware and useless programs that took up precious bandwidth and system resources. My hard won merc and spy instincts coming together to practically scream at me that there was no overkill in this situation and that the Aldecaldos were under attack.

A swipe of my digital hand, with programs shooting out and burrowing into the system architecture, brought me access to the rear mounted camera on her phone.

She was still in the process of reacting to the first explosion, her right hand moving slowly from left to right and the rest of her was instinctively ducking down. It would take her another 1.9 seconds to complete the maneuver and judging by the internal accelerometer readings she was aiming for the cover behind the engine of her Thornton.

Annoyingly, that camera had no view of anything suspicious. Her big armed nomad pickup was parked on the edge of the camp perimeter. A quick algorithm on the explosion soundwave gave a rough estimate that it had originated to the eastern side.

Another swipe and a virtual mesh model of the camp itself appeared to my left, based on the video data.

“I have a possible match on the explosion sonic signature,” Butcher appeared next to me, streaming the data.

“A car mounted Militech smart mortar. Scan for any other data sources or phones in Panam’s vicinity.”

At this point I had basically turned her phone into a remote terminal whose job was to facilitate my access to anything within range and even deliver quickhacks. It’d be laggy as shit, by my own standards, given how many data pipelines I was working through, but it was the best I could do. No way would I let my extended family fight alone when I could do something about it.

“Panam’s own Thornton is the best candidate for gaining tactical intelligence.”

I wanted to kick myself for not doing that already. Her Thornton ‘Warhorse’ was a custom rig with its own mounted turret in the roof with full interface capabilities. I had worked on that soft myself to improve it and even solved the annoying tendency that the turret had to jam.

A quick streamline of her phone resource usage, and I practically waltzed through the Warhorse’s firewall given that I had backdoor access keys.

The turret optics sprang to life and immediately began pulling on the truck battery, since the engine wasn’t running.

I sent the command for the pickup to start its engine, which would take at least four seconds as the images began streaming, zooming in and resolving to finally give me a good look at the direction I wanted.

“Fucking Raffen!” I snarled.

Somehow, nine enemy vehicles had managed to reach mortar range of the Aldecaldos camp, including what looked like nineteen combat drones screaming through the air above the cars.

I knew their procedures and precautions, they always had scout perimeters stretching out for kilometers. Neither Panam or Saul were incompetent gonks when it came to home base security. It meant that either a scout had fucked up royally or there was a traitor, leading the enemy Raffen straight through the outer and inner security perimeters.

These Raffen wore the symbol of a coiling viper on their cars, which were painted in desert camouflage browns and whites. It was in stark contrast to the Wraith gang which had plagued the Badlands around Night City - who didn’t give a shit about being seen coming.

A quick meta search of the symbol and I had everything about the Raffen Dust Vipers at my digital fingertips.

The organized military assault formation I was seeing these vehicles adopt was explained due to the Vipers being led by someone called ‘Cobra’ Reyes, a Militech deserter turned cyberpsycho-adjacent warlord. He was a towering figure at over six and half feet tall with no apparent surgeries done to get him to that height. Otherwise, despite being a Maelstrom wannabe with all the chrome he had within him, he was the typical lead-through-fear type and he kept his gang loyal with the crazy promise that they would someday get a ‘New Eden’ out of the ruined sections of LA.

Butcher tapped my shoulder and had further streamlined our takeover of Panam’s phone for just enough bandwidth throughput that I might as well be standing right next to her. He had also commandeered her Warhorse’s internal computer for more system resources. The issue we’d have to be careful about was our footprint through the various sats we were bouncing the signal through. Too much and we risked tripping the ICE and fighting a war on two fronts. It limited the queue I could push through simultaneously and it meant I might have to chance viral self-propagating hacks, which carried the minor chance it would also hit an Aldecaldo.

Panam had finally reached her cover, her left hand shoving the phone into her jean pocket and her right hand was pulling out her trusty modded DR5 Nova revolver. 

I struggled with the frustration at the glacially slow meatspace speeds relative to my own and pinged Panam’s Agent to give me a direct holo into her optics.

It experienced its own version of a bloody heart attack when it was suddenly confronted with what seemed to be two AI that was knocking politely on the firewall.

The Agent recovered quickly and visualized itself as an ephemeral butler to my eyes, complete with moustache and a prim attitude, “How can I help you?”

“Relax, we’re here to help. Just need a direct line to Panam, please.”

It stared at me and then at Butcher, and despite knowing it would be hopelessly outclassed in a digital slug match, it stood its ground, “I see, you will wait for me to ring the tone.”

“I’m using my holo ring ID, she’ll pick it up,” I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

“We’ll see about that.”

Panam had just about settled into her cover now and my holo ping came into her vision, showing the stylized, ghostly ‘V’ that was composed of thousands of small 1s and 0s.

From the Warhorse’s cams I could see her frowning with indecision before popping up to get a look at what was actually going on and stop acting on instinct.

She finally engaged her own Sandy, ducking behind the hood just in time to avoid a machine gun volley from a Viper car…

 - and picked up the call.

I wanted to shout to the heavens in celebration, About fucking time.

“V? This is not a good-”

She was startled when her own car started up without her.

“That’s me, get in, think of it as me riding shotgun.”

“The fuck, did you just hack my truck through a holocall?!”

“Yes, now get in,” I insisted as I assumed full control of the turret, aimed and fired a triple burst of explosive ammunition that swept four Dust Viper drones from the sky.

It allowed a group of Aldecaldos who had been stuck in the cover of the water truck to run towards their nearby cars. Marking the first signs of defense coming from the nomads.

She blurred with a Sandy speed and it made me wonder just when she decided to get that upgrade. It wasn’t anyone who could just chip that without potentially going loco and her speed told me she at least had a mid-grade.

She shoved the car into gear and went full pedal to metal.

The Warhorse’s engine roared in defiance as it accelerated, spraying rocky gravel and sand behind it.

Four mortars streaked through the air from the rapidly advancing Viper line.

Impact points would be smack in the middle of the ‘Caldo camp and potentially kill many who were still fleeing to grab heavy weaponry or just find cover, which included a number of children.

I titled the turret upward, streaming a salvo into the sky that intercepted every mortar round.

Assault rifle fire and tech snipers began firing from the ‘Caldos aiming for the Viper’s engine bays and any Raffen that dared try to shoot out of their car window.

The first armed ‘Caldo cars were also surging out, their mounted weapons barking weapons fire and smart rockets into the air.

Unfortunately, the smart rockets hit absolutely nothing as they just began spinning uselessly in the air, unable to find target and self-detonating for safety.

That was definitely enemy action.

Cyberspace of the area told the story.

One of the Viper cars or even multiple were packed with jamming ICE and there was even an automated ‘netrunner’ setup, much like what I had used with El’Capitan’s auto heist operations in Night City.

If that wasn’t found and killed soon, the ‘Caldos would begin losing control of their own cars.

“Panam, I need you to open a port in your firewall to let me access your optics.”

She turned the wheel to avoid the large tent that I knew housed the ‘Caldo’s Basilisk tank and support equipment. Now that would’ve been a wonderful asset to introduce the Viper fuckers to, but the thing required too much physical prep time and elbow grease before it would even start its own engines. I could feel its dormant systems operating on standby and battery power only.

“I could begin remote startup procedures V,” suggested Butcher.

“We can’t afford the spare bandwidth.” I pinpointed the two cars that were lit up like the Crystal Palace with EM emissions 

“Done!” she responded and slapped a large button on the dash.

With clear access to her optics, I highlighted the netrunning cars. “Those two need to be gone in twenty seconds or the ‘Caldos will begin losing vehicles to autohacks.”

“Got it!” I felt her opening a radio call to a ‘Caldo frequency. “This is Panam, all fire onto the cars I’m piping through to your links.” She let her Agent do the nitty-gritty work of managing that.

She twisted the wheel, aiming straight for the ‘runner car on the right flank, which was roaring towards us at 200 meter range and closing fast. 

Five armed ‘Caldo cars surged out of the camp alongside us.   

A ‘Caldo sniper scored the first real kill with their SPT Grad - the anti-armor rifle punching straight through the driver side crystal glass and pulping the head of the driver.

The Viper immediately lost control, barreling straight into a nasty bit of terrain, flipping ass over teakettle and crashed ahead of the advancing enemy line.

It would’ve been nice had it pancaked a nearby enemy car, but luck and physics wasn’t on our side.

More mortars were launched, forcing me into intercept duties again.

“Fuck yeah, V! When did your aim get so good? I mean it was always awesome, but you’re acting like a fucking CIWS!”

I let my bikini-clad avatar shrug, “Let’s just say I got a few upgrades on Luna.”

Relative cyber dilation kicked in as I analyzed the enemy netrunner vehicle. It had begun life as a Thornton Colby, then heavily retrofitted with armor, Crystal glass, and forward facing guns, with the rear cargo bed entirely devoted to the auto netrunner gear. Normally, this needed obvious outward antennas that quickly gave the game away, but somehow the Vipers had the technical knowhow to equip a protected military style com array that was blended into the rear facing of the car, protecting it from damage and incoming fire.

This could only be done the hard way then.

I shifted the Warhorse’s turret on target, gave it a slight upward inclination and let loose with a stream of explosive projectiles.

The first few burst and pinged harmlessly off the frontal armor, but the rest tracked perfectly into the marginally exposed right wheel.

A few milliseconds later there was no rubber at all to greet the earth there and the vehicle rims bit hard into the ground, sawing through and bottoming out the vehicle.

Momentum demanded its due and got it.

It flipped and rolled, bouncing hard and stressing the outer body in ways it was never designed for. The internal roll cage did its job though, but the delicate stuff was utterly trashed in the crash.

Panam grinned in triumph, twisting the wheel, bringing a Viper car in line just as the two charging lines of vehicles entered accurate gun range of each other.

“Eat shit!”

Her fingers pushed hard on steering wheel triggers. 

The two internally mounted machine guns popped out from behind the headlights and sprayed fire into a Quadra 66 Viper variant.

Sparks and explosions riddled the forward hood and crawled up the front windshield.

Simultaneously, I triggered the Warhorse’s turret to swat multiple drones out of the sky that had clearly locked on to us as the biggest threat on the battlefield.

The enemy Quadra returned fire as well, its rounds alternately bouncing off and biting into the Warhorse’s armor.

Panam abruptly veered off to prevent a collision from the impromptu game of chicken she’d been playing with the enemy. She may have lost, but I made sure we won, by sending out a burst from the turret directly down into the driver side window.

An outside observer would not have believed that any human controlled turret, even with computer assistance, could make the shot. It was easy for me and the explosive bullets penetrated and turned the driver into chunky salsa as the Warhorse roared past it.

I watched as a ‘Caldo Thornton Galena got totally wasted as a micro-rocket barrage from a Viper Colby slammed into it.

That deserved a response as I hammered through a car hack that badly strained my connection, but it was very satisfying nevertheless watching the fucker explode from a ‘Self Destruct’ CHOOH2 fuel ignition. 

The two lines of opposing forces intermingled, with a second wave of ‘Caldo cars making it into the fray.

Conventional sight was completely gone as cars were kicking up waves of dust and sand into the air as they jockeyed for prime firing positions on each other.

It seemingly didn’t matter to either side as I perceived each ‘Caldo car had a rather crude IFF pinging on another frequency that was being piped into Panam’s optics by her Agent.

Figured that nomads would have a solution for a situation like this.

It was still a mess.

A Viper car tried to ram itself into the right rear of the Warhorse.

Panam’s Sandy, which I noted with no surprise, was actually optimised for combat driving conditions. She twisted on the wheel, using both handbrake and pedal brake to swerve her car out of the way, resulting in the Viper missing the Warhorse by inches.

I pounced on the opportunity, swiveling the turret and hosing down the forward windscreen with explosive rounds from the Militech MK31 HMG.

The screen practically shattered under the assault, becoming shrapnel that turned the remains of the driver and co-driver into more like the results of an industrial blender.

The car continued onward under momentum only and vanished into the choking dust clouds surrounding us.

“Still need to get that last netrunner car, Panam. It’s already managed to hack-”

“Working on it!” She said with gritted teeth, as he twisted her Warhorse to evade another ramming attempt. Taking the opportunity to fire her forward guns into a Viper that had the misfortune to drive into the crosshairs.

The first rounds bounced off or just exploded against the side armor, but did the job for the following rounds to bite into the weakened structure.

She twisted her steering right and rammed the left rear axle of the Raffen, pushing it contemptuously out the way.

It lost all control and clipped something in the uneven terrain that sent it into a crashing roll.

“Got the fucker!”

She threw the Warhorse into a right drift that landed us right on the tail of our target.

In a moment of complete synchronicity, we opened fire together.

Three heavy machine guns belched fire.

Sparks and explosions erupted from the rear of the Viper Colby as round after round wrecked the integral antenna then started biting right into the auto netrunner gear mounted on the back.

It took no more than two seconds of sustained fire to wreck that function, as it vanished from cyberspace.

Panam wasn’t satisfied and surged the Warhorse forward, turning left then right, swiping the left-rear axle of the enemy Colby.

It began an almost artistic, yet uncontrolled flip, landed on its side and was beginning another roll, when our own speed carried us beyond it.

She gave a look through the battlefield of competing cars, regaining her tactical awareness.

“Everyone push in towards 060. Mitch take four and turn left, Cassidy your group go right, we circle the remaining fuckers and cut them off!”

“Roger, Panam!”

“We’ll get’em darlin.”

It was fascinating to watch. I’d always heard that sometimes nomads fought like this, armed car vs armed car in brawls, but it was a rare thing. Simply because their cars were so precious to them and it would only happen in situations where it was home turf defense, ie where survival of the family was on the line.

There were only three Vipers left at this point and they were attempting to retreat.

Panam wanted to make an example and stamp the Aldecaldo’s presence in the regional map.

It took less than thirty seconds afterwards, with coordinated fire and maneuvers to reduce the last Vipers to burning wreckage.

“All right everyone, bring it in,” said the deep voice of Panam’s fellow leader, Saul ‘Old Man’ Bright, “Damage assessment and body count. I’m leading a salvage team. Good work everyone.”

Panam turned the Warhorse around and after a few seconds of top speed parked on the outskirts of the home camp.

The damage seemed fairly cosmetic, with stray bullet holes and the odd fire in a tent that was already being attended to with extinguishers. The only critical thing I could spot was damage to the water tanker, which already had many ‘Caldo’s quickly working to patch the leaks. Even more critical, I spotted a number of people carrying wounded towards the med trailer. Where Doc Hutch Spindler along with a number of other med volunteers were applying triage care.

On a whim I did something I’d been dying to try for a while, given I had been on the receiving end of this for so long, first from Johnny, then Songbird.

With my access to Panam’s optics, I cut off the small holo pane that only showed me in 2D and manifested an image of me virtually sitting in the right passenger seat, wearing the last outfit that Johnny had put together for me.

Panam blinked, briefly startled before realizing what I had done, giving me an appraising look, “Wow, V, life on Luna agrees with you.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, folding my arms, making a show of looking around. 

She laughed with a hint of bitterness, “You always just show up when the shit hits the fan, don’t you?”

“You know I don’t do this on purpose, Panam.”

She sighed wearily, leaning on the steering wheel, her hands twitching slightly - an aftereffect from extensive Sandevistan usage. “Yeah, once again pulling this family’s ass out of the fire. Without you, we wouldn’t have even figured out that those ‘runner cars were out there until it was way too late.”

“Our family,” I corrected her firmly. “I might not have joined you 100%, but I’ll always consider you as such. My situation just doesn’t allow for it and all I can say is that my gig for the NUSA had some dangerous complications that I didn’t want to bring down on the family.”

She nodded in acceptance, “I- We trust you, V, as family should. Even though I still insist we should’ve marched into Arasaka together.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Panam.”

She gave me another long look, “So is this the real you?”

“If you mean, how I look currently in meatspace? Yes. Just came from my first major gig on Luna, when I received the ping you had read my message.”

“How was it?” she asked eagerly. Reminding me that for all Panam was currently a nomad family leader, she was also a fellow Edgerunner merc at heart.

“Imagine crossing a few hundred miles of awful terrain in a moon rover limited to 25 kph. That’s just to get where you’re going.”

She shuddered at the thought, “Yeah, no thanks.”

Our convo was interrupted when a familiar military grade, artificial hand knocked on the armored glass. Panam was startled again, then lowered the window, “Fuck Mitch, give a girl a chance to recover from Sandy shakes, will you?”

Mitch Anderson hardly looked any different from the last time I saw him, except his hairline had receded even more. To the point where he really should’ve either fixed it or just shaved it all off. His blue eyes gave Panam a critical assessment, “Just checking you’re not hit and bleeding out in here, girl. You also looked like you were talking to thin air. Ghost in your car, Panam?”

“Ah no,” she chuckled. “Though on second thought, you’re actually right.” She pointed at her head. “V is on the line.”

“No shit, are you messing with me?” he laughed with delight.

“Swear it, she’s right here with us. She called just before and helped with the fight. Hacked my optics and is to my eyes, sitting right here.”

It was slightly borderline, considering the limitations I was working under, but I managed to bridge out another connection, ghosting through Mitch’s old firewall - which was military grade, but already solved.

“Fuck!” He jumped when I also appeared to him and waved.

“Hey Mitch.”

He stared incredulously at Panam, “You weren’t kidding. You sure it’s her?”

I manifested an accurate digital replica Scorpion’s Stinger throwing knife in my left hand and more importantly, a unique Action Figure toy that Mitch had given to me when we had both arranged for Scorpion’s faux viking funeral via sending his car along with the body, into a ravine whilst on fire.

My hand twitched the figure to him, “Still have it in my house, on display sealed behind a collection of other memorabilia.”

His face showed his relief, even as he was irritated, “Coulda just called like a normal person, choom. You’re liable to fry my optics doing this trick.”

“Relax Mitch, there’s no more data-”

He held up his hands to stop me, “No need to explain that netrunner crap to me.” He gave me an appreciative nod, “Anyway, it’s good to see you, V. Guess you were the reason the Warhorse did a fair impression of C-Wizz? And why these Raffen assholes got their butt kicked. Carol was screaming at me about those ‘runner cars, but they were gone before I could do anything about it.”

“Guilty as charged,” I shrugged. “Oh, Panam, I kinda bricked your phone in the process of facilitating my virtual presence here. I’ll have a new one delivered to you from LA.”

She waved me off, “Small price to pay. Mitch, how many…”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his face. “So far, Lena, Tomas and Carla are confirmed. Might lose a few more, but Doc Spindler is confident they’ll pull through.”

“Fucking RAFFEN!” Panam raged, slamming the palm of her hand into the steering wheel. “We took every precaution! The Vipers should not have gotten as close as they did.”

Butcher streamed to me a data package that contained everything he had found regarding the Vipers, from a meta-search and a heuristic extrapolation from corpo and government sources he had outright ghost hacked. There was so much, I had to hurriedly initiate a compression algorithm that would allow it through.

“Yeah, Carol is already working on the answer of how. My gut tells me one of our scouts screwed the pooch, got grabbed and they either forced or tortured them for info. Led them straight through, hacked all our remote sensors with those fancy ‘runner cars.”

“Here,” I said, making my finger gun gesture to Panam, uploading Butcher’s intel file on the Vipers.

Her eyes glowed and she let her Agent run a standard malware search, before allowing it to unspool within her own vision.

“V. Did you just… hack the Vipers? Already? You’ve practically given me their home turf on a silver platter already. Routes, strike points, known ambush spots…”

“You know what happens to anyone who harms friends and family with me around,” I said with a dangerous smirk. “With that intel, you have a huge advantage to avoid them and when the time comes, a retaliatory raid on their Palms Springs main camp. I don’t know if I can make it back before you launch that, but if you do, let me know. I’ll knock on the doors of some reliable mercs to back you up - naturally the expense of hiring them will be on me. All else fails, I’ll just do a repeat of today, with proper tech and groundside support.”

Fuck, I’d hire the dedicated sat time and bandwidth from the Highriders, have Rogue refit one of my off-roaders, the Beast, into an netrunner support and deliver it to the Aldecaldos.

Activations in the ICE of one the corpo satellites I was using to daisy chain my connection, let me know that I had finally tripped the suspicions of a security algorithm.

“Listen, I have to cut this connection, I’m not exactly ‘legally’ making use of it.”

Panam reached out instinctively to slap and bump fists with me, only to get thin air for her trouble. “Stupid, yeah, thanks for everything, V. I’ll let everyone know you said ‘hi’ and that you’re back in contact. I think you can expect a call from Carol and the other vets at some point.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Cheers, Mitch.”

“Yeah, yeah, just go already before you get caught and my optics burn out,” he grumbled.

With a small wave I cut the connection.

I pulled a blanket over me, did another security check of the Tycho apartment to satisfy my paranoia, before engaging a sleep cycle for my Gemini.

All of my external awareness shrunk into the datafort and the digital me floated off the deck chair. A wave of my hand materialized a drink of Cenzon tequila that I plucked out of the air.

I raised the glass, “To Lena, Tomas and Carla.”

I hadn’t known them beyond their faces. The Aldecaldos who had come to California numbered in the many hundreds, spread across multiple camps in the extended environs of the Badlands of NC. They had all moved shop to LA and…

Now there were three less and maybe more.

The Raffen Vipers had fucked with the Aldecaldos where it mattered most and I would make sure they went the same route as the Wraith.

Functionally extinct.

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A/N: In the game, I'd always wanted to have an almost Mad Max style mass car duels or battles against the Raffen with the Caldos at your side in their cars as well, kicking ass and taking names,

Hope you enjoyed, have a great weekend and as always, stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 134

Saw was only dimly aware that he was screaming.

Most of his attention felt like it was being pulled in a thousand different directions by the constant pain as every muscle in his body was forcibly spasmed by the electric current being induced.

His mind struggled to make sense of the sensations, even the words to associate them were not coming.

There was just PAIN.

It was pushing in on everything.

It was all encompassing, there was no cell or molecule of his being that was being spared.

He couldn’t even see, even as his eyes were wide open, his vision graying out from lack of oxygen because his lungs couldn’t pull in air.

At least it meant he couldn’t scream anymore.

When it stopped abruptly, there was no relief from the pain as the lingering effects of the spasming continued in the aftermath. He could barely muster the strength to breathe in through his nose.

“Where are the other terrorists?”

His interlocutor was like someone had taken a tactical droid, decorated it and given it three eyes.

Saw glared at the thing overseeing his torture within the suspensor energy field, “Onderon is our system, tin can. Not yours.”

The tac droid just tilted its head in a rather surprisingly organic fashion and gestured to the EV-med droid handling the controls.

PAIN.

He screamed the air out of his lungs again.

This time he imagined it was like a thousand blaster bolts hitting him at once, yet not vaping his body instantly or being directly linked into a fusion core outlet.

Yet the pain became a distant thing and it was as if it was happening to someone else?

Had he died?

“Enough!”

Saw’s head titled bonelessly against the slight play the suspensor field afforded for his head, dimly aware that his own heart was thudding rapidly with so much strength, that the force was translating to internal organs.

He managed to dimly look into the forbidding green eyes of General Tandin, who was technically overseeing the interrogation on Rash’s behalf.    

If Saw thought it would achieve anything, he’d have already spat in the general’s face, but the field would’ve caught it anyway.

“We have to keep him alive. He’s a direct link to the terrorists.”

“You pity him,” droned the tac droid.

“I only pity your ignorance. You can control the people of Onderon but you won’t sustain it against their will. What you’re doing guarantees others will take his place.” 

“They too will suffer.”

“Then the war is lost. You may have a galaxy of strategies and tactics, but it’s unfortunate you cannot calculate a different approach. Clean him up and send him to Holding Three.”

The EV-med droid did the dirty business and only then did Saw belatedly realize he had soiled himself at some point. The droid was surprisingly gentle about it as its primary programming kicked in, holding him up to properly stand in the refresher.

By the time he was clean, he had regained enough self-control to stand and move somewhat slowly under his own strength. He could even dress himself and was given a gray jumpsuit to wear.

The EV droid and two commandos escorted him into the room where Tandin was patiently waiting whilst sitting on a desk with a single chair.

Saw was pushed forward by the commando droid and he glared at the tin can before moving into the seat with an easy fluid movement.

The general raised a surprised eyebrow and held up a hand to the commando droid, halting it from cuffing Saw’s arms to the table. “No, leave us and close the door.”

All three droids obeyed promptly.

Saw wanted to glare at the general, he wanted to scream traitor into his face, he wanted to wring his neck, but his arms and hands didn’t have the strength of a child at the moment.

Tandin brought forth a mug that he had been hiding with his own body from immediate view and placed it down.

The smell told him it was Kotho tea. 

“Drink, it will ease the lingering pains and help the recovery process.”

Saw wanted to throw it into Tandin’s face, but the practical voice of reason in his head, that sounded annoyingly like Ahsoka, impressed upon him that he should take every bit of reasonable help he could.

Could be poisoned, he thought irrationally.

Tandin wants to talk and he can’t do that if you’re dying from poison.

He reached forward to the cup and found he needed to use both hands to even lift it and bring it to his mouth. Twitching hands also threatened to spill every precious drop. He drank carefully and his mouth practically rejoiced at the flavored moisture entering it. 

“I’m surprised at your resilience, Mr. Gerrera. Most everyone after interrogation would be on their back for days afterward, yet here you are, sitting up and drinking.”

“Clearly I’m not like others you’ve tortured then,” Saw glared into the general’s eyes, who was utterly unmoved by the implied accusation.

“Indeed,” nodded Tandin, not even bothering to deny or even defend it. “You’ve been in the labor camps and survived it. That’s impressive, perhaps an explanation for that resilience.”

Saw felt rage boiling up in his heart, “If you know what takes place in them, then you can be glad I don’t have strength at the moment.”

“Your appeal to my conscience and threatening me is wasted, Mr. Gerrera. I know what I’ve done or have ordered to be done. There is no excuse I can give or justification for it. We are not talking about the past, only the present at the moment. I will only explain that my control over the situation goes so far and no further. The Separatists have very little compassion or patience for things that stand in their way in my experience.”

“We have a duty to protect what’s ours, general,” Saw scoffed. “That duty was once entrusted to you.”

Saw smirked in triumph as he saw Tandin’s stoic facade crack with that dig.

“I thought you depleted your arrogance with Kalani,” Tandin scowled.

“‘How dare this farmboy from the highlands judge the great General Tandin’,” Saw mocked. “No, general, my arrogance replenishes by the hour.”

Tandin growled and stood up from the table, beginning a leisurely pace on the other side. “King Rash is the crowned head of Onderon. What’s yours is his and he will do with it as he pleases.”  

“Dendup is the true king,” Saw said evenly.

“Are you following his orders?”

Saw couldn’t help but laugh, “So even you’re buying Rash’s lies? No, general. The OLF takes orders from no one.”

Tandin carefully scrutinized Saw for a moment, “Aligning yourself with the past does not bode well for your future, Mr. Gerrera.”

“We share the same future, general. We can sit here as free men or as servants of the Separatists.”

Another statement that seemed to pierce the stoic armor of the general. His fist slammed down on the desk and he retorted with a low anger, “I am free and you have chosen to become a terrorist.”

“I’m not a terrorist, general,” Saw glared into the man’s eyes, “I’m a patriot and resistance is not terrorism. King Dendup was deposed on the order of Dooku at the head of an entire droid army. Face facts general. Onderon is only under Separatist control because we let it happen. We couldn’t even conceive of resisting. That orbital defense grid has made us weak.”

“The grid is the only reason we don’t have Republic warships over our heads.”

“Something I’m thankful for,” Saw nodded. “But we should not deceive ourselves, the CIS would’ve had theirs in orbit as well. They are only interested in us for the rhydonium and our weapon manufacturing capacity. If we hadn’t had that, we wouldn’t have a nice cozy seat in their parliament. They don’t care about us as a people and culture.”

Tandin just stared at Saw for a long moment, before turning to leave. “This meeting can no longer serve a constructive purpose. You will be executed tomorrow after Dendup. Make peace with yourself, Mr. Gerrera.”

“I suggest you do the same, General Tandin.”

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Yolann Square was absolutely packed to the brim.

It was a sea of onderonians who had come to witness the execution of their former king. Even if you weren’t in tune with the Force, you could palpably sense the somber mood and the feelings that the vast majority had towards the event. There were no jeers and no cheering, just a low din as the people muttered to one another in disbelief at what was about to happen.

Dendup had been a beloved king and while his rule had some shortcomings, it was not enough to sour him in the eyes of the people. There was also a faint undercurrent of outrage that slowly built in the crowd, but it was dampened in the sight of the droid formation that was waiting on the expansive palace steps.  

A full B1 company and two Magnaguard droids were plainly visible.

Two B2 squads and four droideka were hidden underneath the execution platform, ready to pop out and give anyone trying to upset proceedings a nasty surprise. Commando droids were also perched on the upper balconies of the palace, armed with sniper rifles. That was a combination that surprised me, not that it was possible, but that any CIS tac droid commander would do it. The Republic had captured and dissected the programming of many tac droids by this point of the war, it was a constant battle of seeing what program updates were being pushed through, what tactics were put in. This was not among the known tactical library and meant something new was afoot. 

I subtly pointed them out to Steela as we wove through the crowd, leading the way and using the Force to encourage anyone stubborn to give way.

“All units, commando snipers on the palace facings. Snipers, change of plans, those are your primary targets at the mark,” Steela hissed into her comlink.

“We copy, ma’am.”

We paused just a few meters from the front edge of the crowd and the no-man’s zone marked out by the droids.

The front doors of the palace were not the massive affairs I’d seen from other monarchical abodes across the galaxy, but were four smaller arched entryways reflecting its modest beginnings as a temple - allowing parishioners entry and exit simultaneously. Now those doors opened and a ghastly hush fell over the crowd.

Rash emerged first, resplendent in his dark royal armor, with the auridium wreathe on his head glinting in the overhead sun. He walked like he was a conquering Caesar marching back into Rome.

Behind him was the former king, Dendup, who walked with slumped shoulders and eyes permanently fixed to the ground. His emotions were a torrent of depression, mixed with shame and defeat.

Following him was Saw, dressed in a yellow jumpsuit and hands cuffed before him. He visibly looked all right but I could sense residual twitches and from the way he stiffly walked, clearly bore the aftereffects of electrical torture. 

Flanking them were two more Magnaguards and taking up the rear was a new kind of tac droid.

I ignored the fact that it was elaborately decorated and painted, as if someone had personalized it. It was lit up like a beacon to my technometric sense like no other droid I had sensed before it. The sophistication and evolution of the relatively clumsy tac droid design was clear, three photoreceptors, and an angular ‘face’ designed to be intimidating. The way it was walking eerily reminded me of M8 when she was impersonating me - it actually had been designed with body language and was ‘emoting’ with it.

The procession stopped before the execution platform with an imperious gesture from Rash.

He stepped onto it and began speaking to the entire square, his voice carried across it by a booming public address system that echoed across the space.

“As your King, I present to you, Ramsis Dendup. Not as a former king, but as a criminal! Sponsoring terrorist acts against the people of Onderon.” He spoke grandly and projected with a clear charisma. “Fear not, good citizens. As your leader and protector, I will see that you are safe from such villainy. He has betrayed you and today, he will pay for those treasonous deeds with his life!”

A gesture from Rash, caused the two Magnaguards escorting Dendup to grab a hold of both his arms and force him up the platform.

A push brought him on his knees before the execution device.

It was a distinctly Coruscan take on the classic guillotine. However, there was no falling blade set between high rails. It was two simple conductive durasteel pillars no more than a meter high, between which a blood red energy field, half a meter wide, was suspended.

Rash began speaking softly to Dendup, but I heard every word.

“Your people will see you into the next world, may you find forgiveness there,” he mocked and chuckled. He dropped the fruit that he had been carrying into the energy field, which held it suspended.

Both Magnaguards on either side burst into movement, their electrostaffs lit up with radiant energy and practically stabbed them onto the conductive pillars.

The energy field flared with an overcharge into bright orange - slicing the fruit perfectly in two, leaving it partially cooked as well.

The whole display was meant to intimidate Dendup, but the old man looked unimpressed and unfazed at the fate that awaited him. He was putting up a remarkable front, though I sensed some clear natural fear beginning to worm its way into his spirit.

“Time to die,” Rash smiled and a rear Magnaguard pushed down on Dendup’s shoulder with irresistible machine strength.

The former king’s head pierced through the energy field until its plane lined up perfectly with his neck.

“Ahsoka?” Steela whispered urgently.

My focus and will surged forward, finding the hidden one way shield emitters that encompassed the execution platform, the palace stairs and a fair bit of the crowd.

“Ready weapons,” ordered Rash.

The Magnaguards raised their electrostaffs again.

I clenched my right fist and utterly wrecked the shield, applying enough current through the Force to melt them outright.

I nodded.

“Now,” said Steela into her comlink.

Chewie easily picked her up, her sniper rifle was already shouldered and aiming.

Her shot was spot on, taking out the left Magnaguard’s head, whilst I reached out with the Force again to destroy the secondary processor in its chest.

Steela shifted her aim and fired again, killing the second Magnaguard.

Simultaneously, multiple bolts echoed across the square as the OLF snipers blasted the enemy commandos on the balconies, all eight of which died in moments.

Lux and Ildra charged forward and threw four grenades into the formation of B1s.

Two of which were droid poppers and two smoke emitters. 

The crowd began screaming and those closest to the front began trying to flee, as the grenades detonated.

Twenty rebels managed to storm forward before they were caught in the surging mass of sentients. 

The surviving B1s started firing, despite being unable to see with their conventional optics; orange bolts mostly flew randomly over the retreating crowd’s heads but some began slamming into the backs of people.

“Go! Go!” Lux screamed even as he took the opportunity to slam an elbow directly into Rash’s face, sending the usurper collapsing to the ground.

Steela kneeled next to Dendup, who had wisely used the entire big distraction to pull his head out of the energy field. “Come with us, majesty!” she screamed even as her rifle blasted another B1.

My WESTAR came up and I scored a direct headshot on the glorified tac droid, preventing it from breaking Saw’s neck, where he had rather foolishly engaged in a wrestling match with the thing.

That seemed to be the queue for the droid reinforcement, as hidden panels opened underneath the execution platform, allowing droidekas to roll out and B2s to claw their way forward, their blaster arms already deployed and shooting rapid streams of blasts outward.

They didn’t get more than one salvo off though, as droid poppers were waiting for them.

Chewie roared in challenge as his bowcaster blasted two droidekas to scrap mid-roll.

We strode into the battle, my hand moving just below supernatural speed, shooting my WESTAR under my left arm to kill a B1, before I fluidly brought it around, triggering it four times around me and I whirled around, killing a B2 and three more droids with precision shots. It brought me close to Dendup and I joined Steela’s defense of the king, whilst Chewie covered the remaining open flank.

All four doors of the palace burst open and more droid reinforcements, a full B1 company and a complement of commandos charged into the fray.

OLF snipers didn’t need orders to begin sending shots into the new arrivals, prioritizing the commandos.

Three died before they began their usual erratic maneuvers to dodge and evade fire, whilst firing blasters from one hand and carrying a vibroblade in the other.

The numbers of enemy droids were quickly ramping up into being untenable and the rebels in the close quarters group had already lost five men.

The droids coming out of the palace simply pushed those who fell to our fire out of the way and continued onwards, with B2s leading the way to absorb fire and act as mobile cover.

Droid poppers sailed forward through the air and created more of a pile in the palace entrance.

“Overwatch to Steela, we’ve got droids incoming from multiple directions to the square!” announced M8. 

“We have to move, now! Chewbacca, carry the king!” Steela ordered.

“Oof! Easy there, big fellow!” cried out Dendup as he was easily picked up by the wookiee’s left arm.

Chewie roared as his bowcaster felled another B2 with a one handed shot from his right, an absolutely ridiculous feat of strength considering how much it generally weighed.

“Do we have an exit route, M8?!” I shouted as I rapidly fired and felled four B1s within two seconds.

“North-west is currently clear!”

The droids pouring out of the palace suddenly paused and whirled around.

Then began firing back into it!

“What are they doing?!” Steela asked as she slapped home a new power pack and began shooting into the backs of the droids. The rebels didn’t let their astonishment at this strangeness last long either and joined in.

I smirked with satisfaction as my Farsight and senses confirmed two hundred Onderonian Royal Guard, in full armor, with Merr-Sonn carbines, rifles and force pikes, attacked the droids - led by General Tandin himself, blasting a B1s head off before stabbing a pike straight through another.

“TO KING DENDUP! FOR ONDERON!

“ONDERON!” shouted the Guard in answer.

“All units, Royal Guard just attacked the droids in the palace! Don’t fire on them when they emerge! Repeat, don’t fire on them!” I shouted into the comlink.

Caught in the vice between death at our hands and death by the Royal Guard, the droids defaulted to the highest threat rating.

Yet, mere twenty seconds of fighting later, General Tandin and his men and women burst through the enemy.

His own force pike still impaled on a flailing B1 torso as he swiped it to smash aside another droid.

The Guard emerged from each door, in close, disciplined formation, swinging force pikes and firing blaster.

“Guess my words made an impact on him!” Saw smirked as he fell into formation with us, already wielding a DC15 carbine he had taken from one of the fallen rebels.

Caught in a vice of blaster and force pike, the surviving droids were promptly overwhelmed. The Royal Guard rushed over the fallen droids and made doubly sure they wouldn’t be getting back up, their only destination the scrapheap.

“My Lord,” Tandin kneeled in front of Dendup, who was now back to standing on his own two feet with Chewbacca acting as a living wall behind him. “There is much to be said but we don’t have time.” He rose again and pointed at the sky above.

A swarm of rupings swooped into view, each ridden by another fully armed Royal guard.

They made a sharp mid-air turn before coming into land in front of the palace steps.

“There is enough space for all of us if we double up. I hope you have somewhere safe for us to retreat to Ms. Gerrera.”

“We do, but you must send the majority of you men into hiding, we don’t have the space.”

“Understood.”

“We also don’t trust your soldiers or you, general,” Saw said with narrowed eyes. “You saved us, sure, but this could all be part of a larger ruse that you and Rash worked out.”

“Which is why only he will come with us to HQ, along with King Dendup,” Steela said, her body language and tone making it clear that was her final word on the matter. “With the King’s agreement, of course.”

Dendup merely nodded, “Agreed, Ms. Gerrera. Consider it an order, General.”

“What do we do with Rash?” Saw jerked a thumb to the unconscious usurper, whose nose and mouth was bleeding from the hit that Lux had given him. His carbine was twitching and on the verge of actually aiming at the unconscious man.

“Leave him,” Dendup ordered firmly. “We go now.”

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In the chaos of the aftermath, the rupings of the Royal Guard fell into the air lanes, trying to blend in as much as possible. How successful we were was up for debate as the civilians also in the sky clearly knew that such a concentration of elaborately armored and well cared for rupings was not normal in the least.

The question of how far the events in Yolann Square had spread already was easy to see - judging by the collective mood of everyone. There was fear aplenty, but drowning it out was an ever increasing outrage and anger that was brewing and swelling - as if I was watching emotional yeast rising and casting the entire city in its dark haze.

My Farsight spread out, taking in snapshots, whilst I let the guardswoman in front of me handle the flying. 

Rash had seen fit to broadcast the execution, thinking he would also be showing off the capture and killing of the terrorists.

At the gathering places; restaurants, bars, parks and places of work, the anger simmered and was only fueled as people began discussing and arguing.

As we neared the Slagworks some quarter of an hour later, the tipping point was reached.

Someone below had a good blaster and more anger than common sense - and used it.

A B1 droid went down. The remaining squad turned immediately and retaliated, killing the man.

It was almost fascinating as it was horrifying, watching the event unfold in front of the eyewitnesses.

Another grabbed a heavy chair and flung it down from a high window to crash down on the head of another B1.

Emboldened, others grabbed anything heavy and began throwing.

The B1s were knocked off balance, their shots hitting the ground and air. Then another blaster fired and it turned into a rush as the emboldened crowd of people became a mob that managed to rush inward.

As a physical threat B1s weren’t much to write home about, they were just too cheap and mass produced. A strong and heavy enough organic could simply tackle them and with enough leverage rip off the head. However, the presence of B2s and AATs made any notion of unarmed rebellion futile.

The same scene was repeated across the city with a dozen variations of success and failure, causing loss of life and droid.

By the time our rupings landed on the roof of OLF HQ we had passed over many active fights and mobs.

Iziz was in open rebellion against the CIS.

I hopped off the ruping, opened my datapad and browsed through the Onderonian media feeds.

“King Dendup,” I walked up to the deposed king who was stretching out the stiffness from his back and bowed. “Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano at your service.”

I put a hand on his shoulder, easing the spasm in his back muscles quickly and easily.

He blinked in astonishment before slightly bowing his head to me in Jedi fashion. “Well met, commander.”

“It is my duty to inform you that your planet and people have entered into open rebellion against the CIS. Every city is seeing skirmishes, those with Royal Guard detachments are mostly supporting it according to reports.”

“Mostly?” grumbled General Tandin stormily. “I ordered everyone to begin mobilization.”

“It seems that there are some Rash loyalists within the Guard. They have either disobeyed your order and stayed in support of droid forces or in at least one city there’s currently fighting between Rash loyalist Guard and those who recognize your order and King Dendup’s sovereignty.”

Dendup sighed wearily, a surge of guilt falling onto his mind. “Let us speak in more comfortable surroundings of our next steps.”

The logistics and security of our arrival had to be quickly sorted out first though, with General Tandin ordering the Guard riders to scatter in every direction before landing, removing their armor and uniform, retreating into civilian guise.

The king was escorted to the Rebel meeting room and the atmosphere among the OLF was electric with victory. It was tempered, however, with the knowledge that there was going to be much work ahead and that their fellow citizens were currently fighting and dying for the cause.

Steela wearily put down her rifle and collapsed onto her butt with as much dignity as she could onto the couch.

Dendup’s mouth twitched in amusement but he was all eyes for General Tandin who had entered the room.

A hush fell over the assembled rebels.

“Why?” Dendup asked of his general.

“It was time for a new approach, my lord.” He glanced at Saw. “You could say I had my eyes opened. That while I am sworn to the service of the sovereign, it cannot be at the expense of the people that the sovereign represents. Rash may be sitting in that chair, but he does not serve the Onderonian people’s interest.”

“When all this is over, I will clarify and amend the vows of service. Now I ask plainly, do I have your loyalty?”

“Yes, my lord and the majority of the army.”

“You have ours as well, my lord,” Steela nodded.

“Thank you, Ms. Gerrera.” Dendup in turn smiled at Lux knowingly. “Does your mother know what you’ve been up to?”

“No, my lord,” Lux shrugged uncomfortably. “With interstellar communications locked down or monitored, we’ve only exchanged personal messages.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll eventually be proud of what you’ve managed to achieve here today.”

“I hope so, my lord. Though knowing her she’ll first give me a thorough scolding for using my money to fund an armed rebellion.”

“Let her get it out of her system, she’ll understand eventually. First, we must make the day where your mother can come home happen. We saw outside that the will of the people have spoken. Now we must make it a reality. Improvised weapons and projectiles will not avail against the heavy droids and weapons. Our first goal must be to win the capital and secure it from droid forces. Do you have any thoughts on how?”

Tandin nodded and glanced at Steela. “I do, my lord. Ms. Gerrera, your unconventional tactics in the city was clearly working. Yet your limited numbers mean you lack the scale to achieve larger objectives. My proposition is this; you train my men and women in those tactics and then when the moment is right, we strike as one all over the city.”

“It could work, but do we have the time for that?”

“We can afford four days,” I declared.

“Four days only?” she said in astonishment.   

“Count Dooku will not let the events of today go without a response, he will order Rash to begin harsh reprisals against the citizenry, including the hunting down of any army personnel in Iziz. General, I assume you have delegated the fight to your local commanders in the other cities?”

“Of course, Master Jedi.”

“Please, Commander will suffice,” I corrected him with a smile. “The point is that if we take too long here in Iziz, we’ll begin losing numbers of men at arms. What is the total number in the city under your command?”

“We were never a large force here, only 200. I supplemented our numbers today with reserves and trained citizen soldiers. That being said, I also sent out the general mobilization, which means we’ll have nine thousand trained and armed soldiers ready to fight within a day. That number can stretch to fifty thousand within a week if necessary.”

I inwardly balked at the sheer logistics of just getting droid poppers to that many through the thin supply line that existed currently.

“Your reservists have at least a military grade weapon and ammunition in their homes?”

“Correct, they have been ordered to lay low and not engage the enemy as yet.”

I stood, “Good, I will need to make a call, do what you have to do, general. I am here as an advisor, but I will fight where it is necessary.”

“It will be an honor to fight by your side, commander.”

“Commander Tano, please extend my sincere thanks to the Jedi Council for their help,” Dendup said with a slight bow, gratitude clear in his tone. 

“I will do so, highness.”

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“You seem to have had a busy day, Snips.”

“Quite,” I said wryly to his hologram projected to my right as I leaned on the railing of a walkway overlooking the warehouse floor.

A floor that was playing host to a structured training session for Guardsmen and reservist squad leaders. Tandin decided to strike whilst the durasteel was still hot, clandestinely gathering the men and women from the reserve to come and train in the tactics that would liberate the city. My own job was vetting the true intentions of every Onderonian reservist coming in, making sure none would turn coat.

In this way, we had already weeded out two potential spies, who were looking to sell out to Rash.

“Not only saving the king, but now there’s an entire planet that’s rebelling. We’re getting reports from every major city of fighting in the streets, and in some cases it’s spilling out into the jungle. A number of loyalists have had to flee their cities and they’re going to begin conducting asymmetric campaigns.”

“What of Rash? Why did Dendup let him go?”

“To keep at least someone onderonian on the throne and moderating the Separatist response. If the strategic command of droid forces fell to the local tactical droids, everyone would be in way more trouble, Skyguy. Rash is no military leader, despite his acumen for scheming. Better that the enemy be yoked with his incompetence.”

“And this new form of tactical droid?”

“I’ve questioned General Tandin extensively on it and I’m afraid I have bad news. It definitely has implications for the greater war against the Separatists. It has enough intelligence and free will to actually choose its own name, it’s been built and programmed from the ground up with tactical data harvested from the war. Its name is Kalani, a modified ST-series that can pose a viable physical threat in direct confrontation, presumably built this way as a form of self-defense.”

Anakin closed his eyes as I sent my memory of blasting the head of Kalani during the firefight.

The WESTARs shot had cored a hole clean through and the droid had fallen over but…

“You think it has a distributed intelligence around its body like the Magnaguards.”

“Yes, it only played ‘dead’ for us. I was too busy keeping myself and the king alive to do much more and in the end decided to let this Kalani believe it had succeeded in fooling us. We can expect it to continue to play a role in this conflict.”

“I’ll speak to Republic Intelligence about this new model tactical droid, you can expect them to call as well.”

“I’m breathless with anticipation,” I said sardonically. “General Tandin indicates that whilst the droid is extremely knowledgeable in its strategy and tactics, it still struggles to calculate which tactics to apply and tends to default to the most efficient, which usually translates to the most bloody. There is thankfully no way to program experience and wisdom.”

Even HK-47 would agree with that, though he’d use words like ‘pruning redundant code segments’ and it made me wonder what the ancient assassin droid would say about Kalani.

Anakin nodded, his eyes scanning the bustling activity in the room below. “When will major operations begin?”

“Technically it has already begun, many Royal guards are tagging along with the OLF today, we’re keeping up the pressure with hit-and-run tactics. Thankfully, the general citizenry vented a lot yesterday and common sense prevailed. They’re keeping off the streets and King Dendup declared martial law and curfews over the Holonet before Rash could do the same. Though it seems the Onderon underworld is also joining in on the fun. The Slagworks is a practical no-droid zone thanks to well armed criminals who are very patriotic. The only droid patrols that exist on the streets now are organized combined arm formations.”

“Which makes it both more dangerous and conveniently concentrates the droids, allowing you to engage more decisively.”

I gave Anakin a steely eye, “Am I getting those extra supplies, Skyguy?”

“On the record, the Council is still in deliberation. There is a group of them who believe that our job on Onderon is over. Thankfully they’re in the minority at the moment and Master Yoda disagrees with them. He wishes to generate more consensus before he puts his gimer stick down. Unofficially, you’re going to get them. There are four light freighters that have been successfully overhauled with cloaks, which will begin higher volume supply deliveries. All goes well, you’ll be seeing increased deliveries within three days.”

“It better happen, Skyguy. We’ve already begun rationing droid poppers and retrieving spent ones where possible. Chewie’s figured out a way to refurbish them with local supplies.”

Anakin chuckled, “That wookiee, if I’m not careful he’s going to be outdoing me in the technical department soon.”

For a while we just stood comfortably in each other’s presence, even though we were thousands of light years apart in reality.

“So what have you been up to without me?”

Anakin made a grunt that told me he was not a happy camper. “The Council, in its infinite wisdom, given that you’re so busy on Onderon, has decided that I should be part of the effort to educate newly raised Jedi Knights in the duties expected of them in the GAR. Especially those who are likely to get the rank of general.”

“They actually managed to conduct Knight trials?” I asked in astonishment.

“It surprised me as well. It seems there was a cohort of padawans that should’ve had their trials nine months ago. The war naturally delayed it, but now it's gotten to the point where the GARs expansion needs new Jedi leaders, not to mention replacements for losses that we’ve suffered. So I now have a fresh, newly minted Jedi Knight, following me around and learning from how we do things on the Resolute.”

“And does this knight have a name?”

“Baylan Skoll.”

“Coruscanti?” I asked casually.

“Yes,” said Anakin, frowning at me suddenly. He had picked up on the fact that I had the briefest reactions to the name, before he only felt normalcy from me.

“How good is he?”

“Quite strong, Form V Djem So with the blade, skilled in most major forms of Alter, mindwalking but not at a level where he could specialize in it.”

“Generalist then.”

“Yes, his former master did a good job in teaching him, though his blade work reminds me too much of every bad habit Obi-Wan had to bash out of me, due to our relatively large body size.” ‘Should I be worried, Snips?’ Came the inevitable question into my mind.

‘No, master. Skoll is just someone, who features in a number of future probability lines that intersect with my own. He falls to become a Dark Jedi in the majority of them, we will meet and cross blades as enemies.’

‘And that’s not something to worry about?’

‘Nothing you can do or say specifically, master. I explained only so you can know and not wring yourself into a thousand different knots worrying about it. Treat him no differently than you would anyone else you’re teaching. His future and many others will be influenced by our actions in the next two years.’

“At least you won’t get rusty then without me to keep you on your toes, Skyguy,” I teased.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve so far bested Skoll in every sparring contest we’ve had,” he said archly with a mock pomposity.

“Really? By how much?”

The most minor squirming in his shoulders told me the answer, before he rolled his eyes, “Fine, it’s usually by one or two points.”

I gasped and clutched at my chest, “Oh dear, the great Anakin Skywalker, winning only by the slimmest of margins against a novice knight.”

He folded his arms in irritation, glaring at me. “Funny. Now, is there anything else that needs to be addressed?”

“No, master.”

“Good,” Anakin looked off to the side. “I need to go. Keep up the good work, Ahsoka.”

I bowed, sensing he had company in Briefing One - Baylan Skoll had walked into the room. “Thank you, Master. I’ll check in at the scheduled time, unless an emergency comes up.”

“Force be with you.”

“And you, master.”

His holo vanished and I quickly walked out of the warehouse, into the cool late night evening of Iziz.

A quick run across the street and after a quick check, I was let into OLF HQ by the rebels on guard duty.

My destination was on the upper floors. A small nondescript room that looked utterly unremarkable from the outside and ordinary to any normal sense. To me, however, it was a beacon of pain and suffering I could no longer ignore. I knocked with an insistent cadence, the type that told the occupant that whoever it was, I would not be going away. There wasn’t any answer or indication of movement, so I knocked again after waiting the appropriate number of seconds.

“YES! I’m coming, kriff it!” snapped the occupant.

The door was pulled open with gusto and I was greeted with the hilarious sight of Saw Gerrera deflating like a balloon when he saw that I was the one who was disturbing his attempt to fall asleep. He also cringed when I got an eyeful of his shirtless bare torso - not that I was complaining much from an eye candy perspective. He barely had an ounce of fat on his frame, his wiry muscles in stark relief under his skin, which wasn’t exactly healthy. He was still in the latter stages of the long road of recovery from his near starvation during his time in the rhydonium mine.

“Oh, uh, Ahsoka, sorry,” he hurried back into the room and pulled a shirt on.

“Relax Saw, not here for what you’re thinking.”

“Uh, then… then why are you here?”

“You could say I’m here in a professional capacity as the OLFs only Healer or Doctor. Get yourself on the bed, now.” I pointed to the small cot with a very thin mattress, only a single cover and a pillow that hardly looked up to the job.

He just stared at me for a long time, his brain struggling to process the words. I rolled my eyes and stepped forward, giving him a firm shove and using the Force to guide his fall. It said everything about his situation that he didn’t protest or even have the strength to resist my light Push.

“Oof!” He winced in pain. I pulled up the only chair in the room and sat down near his head. The Force began to stir and was soon a torrent as I guided it, my hands cupped on either side of his head. “What are you doing?”

“You really thought that you could just shrug off and sleep away an extensive session of electro-interrogation?” I asked incredulously. “Most don’t know the long term consequences and if it isn’t treated now, then the damage to your brain will result in anything from personality alteration, depression, chronic anxiety and insomnia. The list of neural disorders is so long that I could spend most of the evening going through them with you.”

My focus pushed ever inward, down into Saw’s brain, the neurons there and the connection to his entire nervous system. It was thankfully a textbook case - the electric overload had disrupted nerve firing and it had mostly returned to normal. However, the base chemical signal expression at the nerve gaps had been badly affected in roughly 23% of his brain, exactly where the ventromedial and dorsolateral prefrontal cortex was.

Inwardly, I was rather astonished.

Was this it? Was this what had laid the foundation for becoming the heartless asshole that many future probabilities had for him? Both those parts of the brain were key parts of the neural network that governed cognitive empathy.

My focus went smaller and smaller, then, molecule by molecule I began rearranging the chemicals that would allow for proper nerve signaling across the gaps.

“Ahsoka, how long is this going to take?”

“It will take as long as it needs to. This will not be a case of me just waving my hand and fixing it. Nothing related to the brain is. We will need a session like this every evening and then maybe in three weeks I can have this to an acceptable level. If I was a specialist Jedi Healer then I could have you stable in a few days, but since I’m not and we can’t get you to the Jedi Temple - this will have to do. Now, hush, I need to concentrate.”

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A/N: The series had a lot of nasty scenes with regard to interrogation by the bad guys. The actual consequences of that, is not just shrugged off, unless you're a Jedi with sufficient Internal Control or have a suitable Healer on hand.

Enjoy your weekend and stay awesome!

The Force Wills - Chapter 133

“You nervous?”

Steela looked up into the ceiling of her room.

How long had it been since she could say that? It felt like forever but was actually just under two years at this point. Ever since the farm had been taken, it had always just been either open sky or jungle canopy above her head whenever she awoke. Now it was a proper ceiling, if slightly dusty from disuse, in an upper floor room of OLF HQ. The bed underneath her back was also old, but it was at least clean and serviceable.

“How can I not be? Tomorrow I’m announcing myself to the people, to Onderon… and to our enemies.”

Her eyes met Lux’s, lying comfortably close next to her, his form partially hidden under the blanket they were sharing.

“You’ll be great, Steela,” he reassured, caressing her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, fully savoring the warm hand, now thoroughly callused from more than a year’s hard living that was behind them.

“I hope so.” The gnawing fear was tying up her stomach in knots. She knew she had to sleep but the long night of planning the operation had seemingly taken residence in her brain, replaying itself over and over.

“Will you try something for me? It’ll definitely help,” he assured, looking at her with a heartfelt earnestness, the intensity of which threatened to seemingly melt her spine.

“All right,” she managed to say through her tightening throat.

“Inhale for four seconds, hold your breath for four, then slowly exhale for six seconds.”

She blinked in brief confusion at the blunt practical suggestion, “What?”

“Don’t think about it, Steela, trust me.”

Something in his eyes convinced her.

Inhale…she held her breath…one… two… three… four… she breathed out slowly.

“Again,” his hand also continued to slowly caress the other side of her face.

Just how long she did what was clearly some form of relaxation technique, she couldn’t really remember. It probably went on a little longer than necessary because during it, the blanket had crept downward and she caught sight of Lux enjoying the view as well. Her breasts occasionally brushing against his forearm.

She let it happen, because it was honestly working as the tension in her stomach was nearly forgotten and gone.

“Good, now tense your arms for five seconds, then relax.”

She did so and in the process her right arm brushed against his torso.

“Now your shoulders.”

On it went; stomach, upper and lower legs, feet.

“Now, mentally rehearse what you’re going to do tomorrow-”

“But-”

“Focus, Steela,” he interrupted softly.

She… trusted him and went into the mental place that she had almost forgotten in the past few minutes. Seeing where her various people… her soldiers would be during the ambush, the evac routes, then what she would actually say to the people of the city. Onderon news media wouldn’t show it, not with Rash bearing down on them, but arrangements had been made for its spread to the other cities through the Holonet.

She still didn’t truly know what the words would be, it was just half-formed ideas at present that she wanted to convey, hoping that it would come in the moment. Amazingly, the tension and stress didn’t return at all. It was like there was now a firm bulwark against it.

“That’s incredible,” she opened her eyes, breathing deeply in and out. “Where did you learn that?”

“My mother, of course. Would you believe that the great Senator Bonteri still, to this day, suffers from a fear of speaking to large crowds?”

Steela gaped incredulously at the concept. Senator Bonteri had been a legendary orator in the Senate before Onderon had seceded, and even now that she was in the CIS Parliament, that form continued. Her speeches were often broadcasted on Onderon. “You have to be pulling a circuit.”

“No, it’s the Force honest truth,” Lux smiled, chuckling fondly at memories clearly replaying themselves in his head. “She learned ways of dealing with it at a young age from a visiting Guardian of the Whills, who was on a pilgrimage to the Unifar Temple.”

Just mentioning the structure was enough to bring out a bitter anger. Another trespass to visit upon Rash’s head was the fact that he had turned that Temple, meant for study and contemplation of the Force according to the Unifras religious doctrine, into his royal palace.

Steela hadn’t been the most religious person since she was a young girl, but all the true adherents on Onderon must still be internally seething with outrage, even as they strove to let go of it as the doctrine demanded. That and the droid army was the reason Rash hadn’t faced an angry mob storming the ‘palace’ gates. In fact, the sheer idea of committing violence within the Temple was anathema to Onderonians and it was precisely that which he exploited.

Lux shook his head, getting away from such thoughts. “There’s a few more things you should do, besides the physical aspects. Whenever you have a negative thought such as ‘I’ll fail’ or ‘It won’t work’, challenge it immediately. ‘I’ve prepared as thoroughly as I can and can do no more.’”

She nodded, taking it in. Negative thoughts were aplenty and it would be a constant challenge. She turned onto her right side, smiling into his eyes, “Anything else?”

“Just before the ambush. I’m talking like five minutes or less, ground yourself in the present by naming five things you see, four you can touch, three you hear, two you smell and one you taste - even if it’s only the residue of your breakfast.”

“Makes sense, I think.”

“The last thing to do is find a neutral object or to just focus on your breath alone for a minute or two, shut everything else out. This one’s good because you can just about do it anywhere or at almost any time.”

She made another mental note and narrowed her eyes, “If you know all this, how come you’re sometimes stressing?”

“I never said I was perfect at it, Steela,” he admitted sheepishly.

The expression on his face was so adorable, that she couldn’t help but close the centimeters that separated them with a kiss.

It was meant to be a peck but quickly turned into more.

The final stress and nerves vanished and tomorrow was quickly forgotten.

Lux balanced himself with his right hand on her left side and smoothly glided over her.

Her left leg came up bent instinctually, to both pen him in and to give her foot access to his butt.

Gone was the fumbling of their first time in the distant jungles under a starlit sky all those months ago. Now, they knew each other well enough as lovers to anticipate each other. They hadn’t exactly been going at it like a pritarr every night in the jungles, but it was a close thing, moderated only by exhaustion and their supplies of contraception hypos. 

Their kiss deepened and she felt his manhood deliberately teasing her entrance, the tip gliding down and up her lower lips.

A slight lean and he was supporting himself on his left shoulder, giving his right hand the freedom to explore; first her breasts, teasing and tweaking each nipple, moving down to the curves of a stomach toned by many months spent in a ruping saddle.

They both moaned into each other’s mouths as the pleasure built, especially when his tip brushed against the most sensitive spot.

She could feel in his body the desire to resist taking the plunge immediately, his desperation to please her first taking hold.

Steela broke the kiss and looked at him with a twinkling mischievous gaze, before pushing down on his butt with her left foot.

He made it sound as if someone had punched him in the stomach and she gasped with pleasure as he entered her fully in one smooth slide.

Lux was now in his own internal battle, fighting a body that was barely twenty and just wanted to pump hard before exploding into a release.

His eyes were closed and he breathed hard, staying sheathed within her and not moving a muscle.

She let him fight and sure enough after about half a minute, he opened his eyes with a wicked grin that promised retribution.

Her answering smirk was the only prompt he needed, as he gave a long slow in and out stroke.

The mewling moan that came out of her was much of a surprise to her as him. It usually took a fair bit longer for her ‘engines’ to warm up. Perhaps the sheer length of time between their last session and this one had something to do with it.

He gave another stroke and smothered her gasp of pleasure with his lips as his tongue also demanded entrance.

In the end, they managed just seven minutes, before their reserves of restraint broke.

His hand gripped her by the left knee and his hips gyrated in and out furiously, her own hips meeting the thrusts as best she could.

Barely three were required as he pushed a final time, his release shuddering through him.

Steela followed a few moments later at the sensation.

In the aftermath, both fell asleep looking into each other’s eyes, knowing that whatever tomorrow may bring, they would still have this moment and memory.

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In the wake of two weeks of insurgency within Iziz, with multiple random daily attacks against droid patrols and positions within the city, the inevitable happened.

The droids reacted like any adaptive program and increased the size of the patrols. No more were there single squad patrols of B1s, lone tanks with minimal support or any kind of standard occupation formations. Instead, a patrol formation began looking more like a combined arms field doctrine;  B1s deployed in company size at least, along with MTTs filled with B2s and at least two AATs.

The days where the OLF could strike with just four man teams or even solo was seemingly over.

We had anticipated this and for the operation had deployed with twelve rebels in addition to Steela, Saw, Lux, Chewie and myself.

My wookiee friend had to be extra careful though, as he stood out rather significantly among the population and as far as we could determine, he was the only one of his kind in Iziz. That was why he had to be content with running sabotage operations in very clandestine fashion so far. He had been getting around by wearing a translator device on his bandoleer, posing as an astrogator looking to study any ancient hyperspace maps that may have been on Onderon and it was a cover that had held up pretty well so far.

“All right, we’ve got a patrol coming into our AO,” Saw announced over comms. “MTT, ATT, and a B1 company.”

I concentrated and pushed my senses outward, all the while pushing a cart of spare speeder parts, appearing outwardly to be just a menial laborer in a mechanic’s shop.

“No counter-ambush in sight, operation is a go,” I murmured softly.

“Confirmed, primary team in position,” said Steela.

My cart thumped and bumped over the paving as I entered the largest market in the south of the city. The place was bathed in the golden glow of the hot sun only filtered through wispy high altitude clouds and it was a kaleidoscope of color and many exotic scents all nestled among the ancient and new stone architecture. It was lunchtime, so it was absolutely packed with people seeking something quick to eat or if they weren’t in hurry, sitting down in outdoor restaurants - served by either mobile kitchens or from the buildings lining the square. For the briefest of moments, I felt like I had walked into any central town or city square you could point a finger at on old Earth’s Europe, except add in the odd fashion, Corusca tech, rupings and speeders flying in the sky, not to mention the smattering of togutra, twi’lek and ithorians walking around.

With my mind stretched out, I made sure to perceive if anyone was paying attention to me, but was happy to note that I was effectively blending into the background.

Which was how I placed the small holo emitter on the side of a large pot plant on one side of the square without a single soul noticing.

I kept pushing my cart, affecting an utterly bored yet grumpy expression of someone doing a job they had no choice about.     

The second and third emitters were placed without incident, out of most convenient sightlines.

I sighed wearily with a huff of pretended exhaustion, stopped my cart and tapped the comlink on the inside of my wrist, now adopting an irritated expression, seemingly consulting the message that had been sent to me. Instead I confirmed a stable and secure link to the emitters, double checking that the frequency hopping and encryption was also doing its job. The droids had been doing an ever more effective job of policing the frequency spectrums, trying to find unauthorized signals and broadcasts. Chewie and a group of other skilled OLF techies, who he was teaching, had done a good job so far of keeping us hidden on the airwaves and on the local Holonet.

“South is go,” I reported.

“Roger, South.”

“East is go.”  

“North is go.”

“Centre is go.”

“Holonet connection stable, I’ve sliced the Iziz Herald news site,” said Chewie’s translator device, with his actual voice slightly muted in the background. “There’s no stopping this from getting to every ‘Net linked datapad on the planet.”

“We’re as ready as we can be, our target is in sight. Stand by… on my mark.”

I continued to stare into the small holo screen above my palm, scowling as I read the message, even as my awareness plunged through the link, expanding towards the AO.

Steela and her team were hidden in the lee of an angled roof, the droid convoy approaching their position.

She gave everyone a last look, seeing only the eyes of hardened men and women who were behind her.

Three fingers were held up, then two… then one.

She popped up with her sniper rifle, whilst her squad burst forward, taking their own firing positions using the angle of the roof as their cover.

Blaster fire erupted downward onto the droid convoy, Steela scoring a headshot on the B1 commander of the AAT, whilst eight others were hit immediately in just the opening volley.

The B1s returned fire instantly, their shots simply pinging into the edge of the roof or missing overhead thanks to the awkward angle and the rebels' high ground advantage. Those that were on target, only hit rooftile as the targeted rebel just ducked their heads down.

A grenade was flung by a female rebel, which landed smack in the middle of the B1 company formation.

The resulting concussion and thermal expansion wrecked thirteen droids outright and sent half a dozen others flying through the air.

It was a distinct escalation by using thermal detonators, as while droid poppers were effective in the short term, in the longer term, such damaged droids could more easily be repaired. Given we also had an audience and poppers were distinctly underwhelming visually in their use, I had to reluctantly give the go ahead to use the heavier ordnance. The detonators had also been carefully calibrated to minimize their yield as much as possible for an urban environment.

With the B1 numbers nearly completely decimated, the survivors called for reinforcement from the MTT.

The front of the blocky armored transport folded its lid open and pushed out a large rack of a dozen B2s, which were already activating themselves.

The rebels sprang their own trap card, as the second team opened fire from the other side of the street, creating an envelopment and both teams poured bolts onto the B2s before they could even be released from the rack.

Their armor held though as the first B2 landed and brought up its gun arm, aiming upward at the rebels.

Steela’s sniper rifle fired and bored straight through the B2s shoulder sensor, wrecking the internals and sending it crashing forward into the ground.

The remaining eleven B2s landed, but were already in a sorry state before they had even deployed. The OLF was no longer equipped with ramshackle weaponry, but instead each rebel was now trained and equipped with DC-15s rifles and carbines.

Three B2s clattered to the ground from good hits to their vulnerable spots, whilst Steela cored another.

The autoblaster fire from the B2s sprayed upward, blasting holes into the roof and overhead, forcing most of them behind cover.

The rear AAT of the convoy also began traversing its turret to bring the main gun to bear.

Saw was already there, bursting down the lone surviving B1 escort with his carbine, jumping onto the forward hull of the tank, and running upon it in a smooth display of agility and parkour.

He left a grenade attached to the front, vaulted up, killed the B1 commander with a smooth pin point blast before dropping another grenade down the open hatch.

A quick jump and roll later he was already running away whilst the AAT erupted into a fountain of channeled fire.

It immediately sank down onto the street as its repulsors failed, more jets of flames and crackling pops of minor explosions as it broiled from the inside.

Four detonators sailed through the air to land at the feet of the B2s.

The resulting detonation wrecked their legs and flung them off balance, allowing the rebels the breathing room to pop up and pour blaster fire down.

Another rebel charged up from an alleyway, this time flinging droid poppers that adhered to the side of the MTTs thinner rear armor. 

The brief blue flashes heralded their detonation and sent the transport tank out of control, where it crashed right into the back of the surviving B2s and even crushed those who were still fighting with only half their bodies remaining.

The lead AAT was finished off as a coup de grace of the ambush by another rebel tossing grenades into the open commander hatch, before the B1 driver below could even traverse the turret.

The rebels cheered and charged forward, getting quickly to the ground with ascenders and began the task of double tapping every droid to make sure their only destination after this would be the scrap heap or the smelter.

Steela stood, slinging her old rifle casually onto her shoulder and stared directly into the small holoscanner that had been broadcasting the entire ambush.

Above each major market in the city, which had been watching, her giant holoform stared down at the people.

She was only dressed in minimal combat gear; an ammo harness and utility belt, but otherwise looked like an utterly ordinary ‘country’ girl for Onderon, a tight sleeveless shirt that hugged her curves, rugged pants and boots. 

“Do not be afraid, brothers and sisters of Onderon,” her voice boomed down on the market and from every linked datapad - a sliced link opening on the front page of the Iziz Herald. “The time has come to take back our freedom and our planet. For more than a year, we have all been deceived. We were told that Kind Dendup abdicated the throne in light of his age and failing health. We were told that King Rash was taking us into a new prosperous age with the CIS. We just had to ignore the fact that it happened just as the droids were landing and taking over. We had to ignore the fact that King Dendup was in perfect health for his age and had not uttered a word of abdication. Then we had to ignore the people disappearing with no explanation. We had to ignore the little voice in the back of our mind that something was wrong. We had to ignore land seizures and stories of people being worked to death in the mines.

“No my fellows, Rash deposed and usurped King Dendup by the force of arms of the CIS droid army. He did not raise the alarm or his own voice in defense because he knew what Rash would do otherwise with the droid army. Rash is a traitor who sold out our world for his own selfish gain and ambition for power. But Onderon is ours! And we will not regain it without your help. I know I am asking for a lot, we’ve all grown content and lazy into accepting this status quo but understand the price in blood that’s being paid right at this very moment across the planet. Fellow Onderonians whose only crime is to be inconvenient or to disagree with Rash are dying by the dozens.”

“The only way forward is to reclaim sovereignty of our planet and restore our true King to the throne! Also know that the Onderon Liberation Front is out there and fighting for this goal and no other. No matter what you might hear from Rash going forward, he will only try to deceive you further. That is why the OLF is starting a radio broadcast that will bring the truth of what has been happening the past year, where we will speak to you and bring news of the fight. If you wish to join our cause, the way will be opened and those who truly wish for liberation, will find the way.

“I must go now, but remember that we will always be out there, fighting for you!”

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“These terrorists are now a direct threat to Onderon.”

A threat to you sitting in that chair, Rash, amended General Akenathen Tandin in his thoughts, keeping his tanned and weathered features perfectly stoic.

“It is only a matter of time before they are all eliminated.”

Tandin’s stoicism was challenged though as he regarded the elaborately decorated, supposedly super tactical droid, who only went by the designation ‘Kalani’. A name it had by all accounts chosen for itself. The CIS were dangerously ignoring common sense with this droid. It definitely had hidden fail safes if it went rogue, but there was a lot of damage it could do before then.

He was also not impressed thus far with the strategies he had heard coming from it.

“This goes on any longer and we’ll be plunged into chaos,” Rash grabbed a fruit from the bowl ever present on the right arm of his throne.

Tandin almost wanted to laugh. He was old enough to remember Rash as a young boy who’d barely been kept in check by his father at gatherings of the royal court. He’d go round stealing every fruit to snack on when the elder Rash wasn’t looking. Now as king, Sanjay Rash’s love for exotic fruits was an open affectation.

“Their hostility is only directed at the droid army thus far,” Tandin spoke up for the first time in the meeting. “If you allow the Royal Guard to assume control of security in Iziz, the terrorists may stop and discuss terms.”

The tactical droid predictably disagreed.

It held up its right hand in a show of body language, “With their coordinated attacks and weapons, it’s possible they’re finding sympathy from within your own ranks.”

Tandin folded his arms allowing a scowl to appear on his face, “I can account for every weapon, man and woman under my command. Do I have to remind you Kalani, that the weapons the rebels are using are DC-15 models? The ones used by the Republic and the Clone Army?”

“The probability of the Republic intervening in Onderon is low enough to be negligible. Their strategic and moral doctrine precludes the creation of such local insurgencies. Large stolen stockpiles of such weapons have by now flooded the black markets, their presence alone proves nothing,” the droid droned monotonously.

“I will not negotiate with these terrorists,” Rash pointedly glared at the general of his planetary guard. “They embrace mayhem and wouldn’t sit down to talk even if it was offered. What is the progress on stopping their broadcasts?”

“We’ve made some headway, but they’ve proven surprisingly adept at slicing the local Holonet stations, highness. We shut one down, but then they just slice another.”

Tandin couldn’t help but admire the skill involved. Battle in the electronic warfare arena was not precisely his forte, but the OLF clearly had someone or even a group of very impressive slicers working for them.

“We should just shut down the entire Holonet!” Rash flung his fruit in sudden anger. It splattered messily on the nearby floor, prompting a small flat cleaning droid to buzz out from its hatch to begin cleaning up.

“Highness-” Tandin began pointing out the obvious problem with that, but Rash only raised a hand to interrupt him.

“Yes, I know. I’d have a fair bit of the royal court marching in here, complaining that I’d interrupted their ability to do business. Now, what can you tell me about the terrorist leader?”

Tandin prompted the patiently waiting R9 data analysis droid with a gesture.

The relatively tall astromech swiveled its head and holoprojector upward, bringing to visual life the holo of the undeniably charismatic terrorist leader, taken directly from the broadcast.

“We’ve matched her from the citizen registry. The name is Steela Gerrera. The Gerrera family had a farm in the Kathil Highlands, but it was repossessed as a result of the Reclamation Proclamation. Both her parents were killed in resisting the order by the droid detachment carrying it out. It’s also likely her brother, Saw, is a member as well. He was arrested and sent to labor detention at a rhydomium mine for expressing anti-royal sentiments. He is listed as escaped and presumed dead in the deep jungle. However, since this terrorist group was organized within the wilds-”

“So brother and sister, reuniting and plotting revenge against their rightful king’s edicts, it’s almost worthy of song,” Rash sneered at the image of Steela Gerrera.

Tandin could see how such events would drive anyone into rebelling, he even felt a measure of sympathy. It was a feeling that was quickly swallowed by his professionalism and the oaths he had taken to the sovereign throne of Onderon.

“We’re still working on identifying more terrorists, but all surveillance sensors at their attack points are disabled with a precision that is… both worrying and impressive.”

“You express admiration for the enemy?” Kalani questioned dangerously.

“Merely stating fact, droid.”  

The tactical droid stepped forward, as if it actually wanted to intimidate him. The Royal Guard in the room also tensed, their hands flexing on their force pikes.

“Enough,” Rash’s word halted everyone in their tracks. “I think it’s time for my plan to begin. If we can’t find these terrorists, we will lure them to a point of our choosing.”

“To lure them you need something they want or value,” Tandin raised an incredulous eyebrow, not liking where this was going. He doubted Rash would ever put himself into a vulnerable position for the terrorists to strike at. A tactic he couldn’t condone or support, since the Guard was sworn to protect the sovereign.

“Precisely, which is why we’ll use Dendup. Okalin, have you made the necessary arrangements?”

“Yes, my lord. All is prepared and awaits your order,” declared the bivall advisor.

“The order is given.”

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The heavens grew dark, hiding all moonlight and opened up to deliver a veritable monsoon of rain down on our heads. It wasn’t much of an ominous sign, as such torrents were business as usual on Onderon given the current rainy season the capital was experiencing.

All members of the OLF were covered in rain parkas as they hurriedly carried crates of supplies from the latest covert drop, delivered directly to a nearby roof in the Slagworks district.

I sheltered just within the side door of the HQ building, stopping each pair of rebels and checking off the crate they carried against the datapad manifest.

Steela stood next to me, giving the appearance of leadership overseeing a vital part of any paramilitary organization - logistics. A lesson that both Anakin and I had drilled into the heads of everyone from day one.

I tapped the pad and gave one last check, “That should be everything.”

“Good, I-”

“Steela!” shouted a voice through the low roar of rain falling on us.

A female rebel, who I recognized as one of the squad leaders, Ildra Pedrar, rushed towards us. She was carrying a box of food supplies from the local market and nearly tripped in her rush to reach us.

“Woah easy, Ildra, what’s wrong?”

She breathed deeply to get her wind back and put down the box, not caring about the rain and I could sense the woman’s mind and soul in desperate turmoil.

“They’re executing King Dendup tomorrow in Yolann Square.”

Steela glanced at me with wide eyes as one of my clear predictions became a reality before her eyes. “Where did you hear this?”

“Malgan market, it’s all the merchants there are talking about.”

“Strange that it should reach them and no official announcement of it was made on the networks,” I mused, M8 was keeping a very watchful eye on the planetary Holonet, when she wasn’t making the local cyber security efforts look like a joke.

“What does it matter how the word got out?” Ildra shook her head, her shoulders sagging in despair.

“It means it was deliberately placed there to us as a message from Rash,” Steela’s lips pursed in anger.

“The Separatists are accusing him of organizing our attacks.”

“Let’s get out of this rain,” Steela scowled and we retreated deeper into the hallway, where Saw was leaning against the wall. The big raincoat gave him a looming presence as he knowingly stared at us, clearly having heard everything. “It’s just more lies, making an example of him.”

I nodded, “Rash will be using him as a scapegoat to heap blame on. Lady Thalindra's efforts in the Royal Court is clearly piling on the pressure. He has to show that he’s in control of the situation. Dendup is also bait for us. Rash knows we won’t let the king be killed.”

“We must rescue the king… tonight,” said Saw with simple feverish zeal.

“No, it must happen in public tomorrow. The people must see us-” Steela objected.

“So you would walk us straight into the jaws of a trap? That’s exactly what they expect us to do and they’ll be ready for us,” he retorted.

“We’ll save him for all of Iziz to witness and in turn Rash will prove our claims for us, Saw.” He scowled at her and turned around, walking towards the exit. “Where are you going?”

“Trust me, sis.”

“Stop!”

I had to give Steela this one, her command voice was certainly getting better or was that just because she knew the exact tone to use for her brother to listen. Saw froze and looked back at her over his shoulder. “Let me do this.”

“This isn’t about you, Saw. Do you want to single handedly rescue Dendup? Do you honestly think you’re that good? He’s being held in the bowels of the palace, along with commando droids, the Royal guard and all the other security measures in your way. Even a Jedi wouldn’t be able to do it!”

I didn’t react at all, especially given that fortified CIS base infiltration was practically a specialty for me at this point. I’d already reconned and planned for that eventuality. Just in case I needed to rescue Lady Thalindra, Dendup or any other OLF member who could potentially be tortured into giving up the location of our base in the Slagworks.

“The risk will be great, Saw,” I said gravely.

“That’s why I’m going alone.”

“If you’re captured and tortured?”

“They can do nothing to me that I hadn’t already endured in the slave camp. If they torture me, they’ll just learn that I’m not like most people anymore. I will die before I give up anything.”

That was his final word as he stepped forward into the rain and turned out of sight.

“Ildra, follow him and observe only, contact me the instant anything happens,” Steela ordered through gritted teeth.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ildra reflexively saluted and the squad leader hurried outside.

“Saw’s going to get caught,” she said, closing her eyes to despair and fear.

“Almost certainly,” I nodded.

“Then why didn’t you stop him?! You could’ve just used your powers or stunned him so fast he wouldn’t even be able to react.”

“I could’ve done that, but what do you think his reaction would be the instant he woke up again?”

Her shoulders slumped and her hands clenched. “He’d take nearly a quarter of the OLF with him. Do things his way. We’ve barely existed for a few weeks and already we’re in danger of collapsing.”  

“There’s an ancient philosopher who once said that a leader must avoid giving commands that he or she knows won’t be obeyed. If you want to keep the OLF together, you must keep this in mind. Yes, Saw is technically acting against you, but not against your goals. When he returns you should absolutely discipline him visibly. The rest must see that there are consequences for their actions, you must command respect.”

“What am I going to do? Lock him up in the basement?”

“A full week of both kitchen and latrine duty is the best you can do. I can give you a few pointers on how to make it as miserable as possible. You can’t really afford to have him off the battlefield.”

“And he knows it,” she grumbled.

“Besides, even if Saw is captured, he’ll then be joining Dendup on the execution block, which gives us the opportunity to rescue them both. Let’s just say I also have a feeling that on the way he’ll cause a few disruptions within the palace that’ll be to our advantage. In the meantime, I think we need to speak to our allies about spreading out our safehouses beyond the Slagworks.”

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He had taken so many things for granted.

The simple joy of walking outside with nothing but the vast open sky above you. He hadn’t known how much he would miss just taking such a simple privilege, until it had been forcibly denied him. The air was bitingly fresh after the bout of rain, precious few gaps had opened in the cloud cover, letting the light of the Dxun moon occasionally peek through.

He enjoyed seeing and walking the roof garden of the Unifar Temple - he utterly refused to think of it as a ‘palace’ - occasionally reaching out and just lightly touching the plants as he walked. The simple feeling of residual rain droplets on his skin, the smell of the Kings’ Crown shrubs and Vomu flowers hung in the air, mixing together and inducing a remarkably calming experience. He recalled how the monks of the temple had said that it brought them closer to experiencing Unity with the Force.

A state of being he would be sent to forcibly tomorrow.

As an old man, he knew that the journey of Death was looming closer and closer. He had thought he had been marginally prepared for it, and accepted it.

Yet in this moment, he found himself inwardly raging.

Did he not still have so much to do?

Did he not have a people that were suffering in silence?

He could only imagine what Rash and the CIS had been doing this past year to drive his people to the extremes that had at last boiled over in these past weeks. He had the ominous feeling that his imagination was not up to the task of coming close to the truth.

He raised his eyes from the cobbled path and looked out over the sprawling lights of Iziz going in every direction around the Temple. An entirely uncharacteristic silence for this time of night, it was as if the entire city was holding its breath for what tomorrow would bring.

The sudden sound of an electric surge and crash of metal on stone reached Ramsis’ ears - his heart surged in fright and he whirled around.

The lone guard droid on the roof had fallen to its knees, arcs of power playing over its chassis before it finally fell over, a circular grenade adhered to its back.

A tall, cloaked figure emerged from the dense garden foliage.

Any alarm Ramsis could feel was dispelled when the figure pulled down his hood, revealing a gaunt young man who swiftly kneeled in front of him. He was immediately struck by the look in those eyes - that of a soul who had seen unspeakable horrors.

“My lord, apologies for the fright.”

“And you are?” Ramsis had an idea already, since no one kneeled before him anymore.

“My name is Saw Gerrera, sire.”

“And what is it you desire from this old man on his last day?”

“Your freedom, sire. The people of Onderon need your help.”

Ramsis Dendup sighed wearily, “So you are among those who are responsible for all the fireworks in our city lately.”

“Yes, my lord, but only to restore your kingship.”

“Stand up.” Saw stood immediately in response. “And what makes you think that disturbing the order of this city will change anything?  

“No change can come without that, sire. Not with the droid army bearing down on every facet of life.”

Ramsis felt an incredible weight come down on his shoulders, he had not known that regret such as this could exist. “I don’t deserve the freedom you offer, young man. You might think that it was Rash who is responsible, but it was originally me who opened the door for the CIS. It was only later that Dooku decided that Rash would be a better leader for this planet - that’s when the usurpation happened.” He turned away from Saw’s astonished eyes, unable to bear the look of betrayal that would undoubtedly come. “I had a difficult choice to make at the beginning of the galactic war, retain allegiance to the Republic or join the Confederacy. Both are corrupt, but I had to pick a side, before one was chosen for me. I therefore chose the latter - the CIS is new and there is still a chance to mold and reshape it to the needs of the people. Unlike the millenia old Republic, which is moribund and resists change as fiercely as a gutkurr.”

Saw shook off his damning words, “Sire, that is the past. We can only look to the present for now. The time to take back this planet is now. Our movement is gaining momentum and has the backing of the Jedi.”

Ramsis blinked and felt something strange in his heart, it took him a few moments to recognize because it had been so long since he’d had it.

The smallest ember of hope.

“Jedi?”

Saw smiled with satisfaction, “Yes, sire. Now if you’ll just strap yourself in, Onderon awaits.” He pointed to the harness he was wearing, which was clearly designed to wrap around and keep another person secure. He also produced an ascension gun.

“Well, it’ll certainly be an exciting ride.”

Ramsis stepped forward and Saw quickly moved around his back, looping the belts across his shoulders, under his arms and then had the awkward moment of having to thread his legs through two loops that would secure his hips.

“Hang on, sire.”

He caught sight of Saw’s arm aiming upwards with the ascender.

The piton shot up into the air, streaking towards one of the temple’s higher towers.

Only to bounce off the bright red grid of a shield that was perfectly enveloping the roof terrace.

“Kriff, one way shield,” Saw muttered angrily.

Ramsis was so astonished that the Temple had been transformed to such an extent, he missed the droidekas finishing their forward rolls and deploying around them, whilst lights from the higher towers bloomed downward and illuminated them.

“I’m sorry, sire. I should’ve known my infiltration was too easy. This was a trap as well.”

“Rash let me up here as a last request before my execution. I see I was mistaken in thinking he had at least a slight shred of decency.”

“If you knew, what I know, sire, what I’ve lived through… There is nothing redemptive about that monster.”

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“So any questions?” Steela asked the assembled OLF team leaders.

The mapping holo of the Unifar Temple and its environs hovered between them; sightlines, firing points and route mapping highlighted. The spirits in the darkened meeting room were high, all the squad leaders knew their roles and were determined to see it done.

I only had to do a few corrections here and there, but otherwise I was quite satisfied by their progress in the general tactical planning department. 

“It’s risky, but it’s our best bet,” Lux frowned thoughtfully into the holo. “Ahsoka, you have yet to discuss where you will be.”

“I will be as close as possible to the execution platform in the crowd, acting as the Plan B, C and the Idiot’s Array.” It felt very strange saying that from my point of view, but everyone else just nodded as I used the Corusca version of saying ‘Ace in the hole’. “Remember, you’ve planned for a fair number of contingencies, in case things go wrong, but you can’t prepare for everything.”

The doors burst open and a breathless Ildra entered the meeting room. “It’s- It’s happened. Saw failed, it was also a trap. He’s thankfully still alive. They fortified the temple with a one-way shield.”

The mood in the room, so confident and buoyant, plummeted immediately.

Steela quickly masked her fear, folding her arms and pursing her lips.

Lux looked at her for a moment, then stood with determination, “Then we save him.”

“YEAH!” The room cheered and everyone stood, grabbing weapons and ordnance, but everything was halted in its tracks when Steela finally responded.

“No.” The whole room looked at her with astonishment. “We have a King to save tomorrow. We don’t have the time or the bodies to do both. Saw’s capture proves one thing, we have lost any element of surprise, which has been our primary force equalizer since this began.”

“Steela, he’s your brother,” Lux said grimly.

“Saw would not want us to break the entire resistance in the forge of fire that we’d be walking into if we go tonight. We’d just be trapped within another one-way shield and be massacred in the dark of night. He knew the risk and was willing to pay the price for the cause. A price I’d pay gladly and I expect the same from everyone in this room.”

“An army doesn’t fight on sentiment and feelings,” I said to the room, pushing my words with the Force into every ear. “It has purpose, vision and objectives above all. Saw will not break to torture in one night, he’s stronger than that. He will share the execution platform alongside King Dendup and we can rescue both in one swoop.”

Lux shook his head, “You can’t be sure of that, Ahsoka. Rash might keep him in the palace.”

“I am prepared for that eventuality as well, as slim as it is. Saw just let us see a key tactic of the enemy and it is something we must prepare for tomorrow.”

“So what say you?” Steela asked all the squad leaders, her gaze challenging each of them.

They looked at each other and Lux eventually nodded, though the reluctance was clear in every soul. “We’re with you, Steela… to the very end.”

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A/N: And Saw learns, it's always a trap and Ahsoka has to be very careful. Have a great weekend and as always, stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 132

“So you’re the reason the training cubes need so much recharging.”

Saw Gerrera was so utterly surprised by my appearance, he froze for the briefest of moments. The holocubes, which had taken on the appearance of B1s and B2s, nailed him in the back with a mild stun shot that forced him to take a knee.

He impressively kept himself from giving out any outward indication of pain, even as another shot landed and the simulated droids marched inward to surround him.

I reached out with the Force and every holocube shut down.

Saw looked away from me, holstering his blaster. I could sense he was fighting his pain response quite successfully. His capacity for it was impressive for someone untrained and his rhydonium exposure played a part.

He stood and looked at me with respect, including the clear spark of appreciation, which I really didn’t want to think about. I was currently dressed as a commoner going out for a ride on a ruping; calf high boots, clingy durable green pants and a sleeveless airy white tunic.  

“Yes, well, General Skywalker said it, we have the fight of a generation ahead, I intend to be ready for it.”

“Clearly, as it’s five in the morning and there’s an important briefing scheduled at six. Are you going to be able to stay awake in it?” I folded my arms and gave a pointed raise of my left brow, which thanks to my latest adjusted facial patterning, let me do a fair Spock impersonation.

“I had three hours of sleep, good enough for me,” Saw asserted, looking out of the windows of the large warehouse the rebels had appropriated for training. It was just across the street from the Onderonian Liberation Front headquarters. A name they had finally agreed on to use for themselves, which would open all sorts of possibilities - not just for ‘brand’ recognition but also for communication of their vision to the people. “We were only allowed four in the slave camp and the routine they electro whipped in me doesn’t go away easily.”

I gave a gesture, the holocubes rose off the ground and returned to their recharge cradles. Far from being intimidated at such a gesture of my power in the Force, it only further intrigued and heightened his impression of me.

It could only be the Force and this universe’s continuing idea of a joke - that I’d end up being the romantic interest of another difficult prospect - Saw freaking Gerrera. In another timeline, the Ahsoka that had come to Onderon had been younger and now here I was, falling right into the right time and place for this butterfly to smack me in the face.

“Come, let’s get some breakfast, there’s a long day ahead.”

We emerged into the cool early morning air of Iziz, the sun streaming its first light over the capital. The early risers were already awake and the din of the city began increasing; rupings flying overhead, the factories of the Slagworks district began their startup procedures and in some cases were already in full operation, sending columns of radiant steam up into the sky from coolant towers.

In the HQ kitchens, the designated cooks for the day were hard at work. It was one of the first changes we had to make for the OLF, as they transitioned from an existence in the jungle where it was every sentient handling their own daily rations and cleanliness, to an organized military existence in the city. There couldn’t be over 180 cooks in the two kitchens, so we had five designated volunteers for each who cooked for three days, before another rotation of volunteers relieved them for the next three days.

I sat down with my plate of tee-mus meat, a local herbivore that had the distinct flavor and texture of an exotic game meat to my taste buds but it was old hat to the locals.  

Saw sat down across from me at the large table, which was one of half a dozen in the designated mess hall. Bleary eyed rebels were trickling in with every passing moment.

“So, is this the big briefing?”

“If by big, you mean who I think the OLF should target among the aristocracy, then yes.”

Saw swallowed down a spoonful of a local porridge, “Finally, days of just gunning down droids and disabling tanks. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that we can do that but it’s not really achieving anything.”

“Days needed for my spying and recon work,” I pointed a fork at him. “Rash is not the only target to distract, or do you think it a coincidence I assigned a rebel strike to hit a droid position at a specific time and place?”

Saw grinned, his eyes twinkling, “I’m coming to see that you do nothing without some larger plan or scheme.”

I gave him a flat look, “And you’d do well to remember that, Saw and that I’m a Jedi who can read intent like a datapad.”

That finally got him to visibly pause before taking another bite, his amorous thoughts grinding to a halt. “Oh, I see and you don’t… appreciate it?”

I sighed and took another bite, interrogating my own feelings and admitting on a personal level that this young Saw Gerrera was roguishly handsome, with features sharp enough to cut. “On the contrary, I’m rather flattered and I hope you realize you’re far from the first who’ve expressed such interest and I’ve turned them down. I’ve travelled the galaxy in this war and my path has taken me many places. Though I’ve stopped for a while on Onderon, I will eventually leave. You know this, yet are still interested. This either means you don’t care for such absence in a partner or you’re merely looking for a ‘quick fling’. Which is it, I wonder.”

“A bit of both,” he readily admitted, to his own credit. “I grew up on a farm, had an idealistic idea of the galaxy and Onderon’s place in it as you could imagine. I imagined that I’d get married to a loving wife, have kids and inherit the farm eventually. Then the Separatists came, I was carried into slavery. There’s nothing quite so harsh in teaching you the ugly truth of this galaxy. I lost all such illusions and dreams. It was all stripped away. My parents were killed, the farm taken. That old Saw died and learned to live day by day, because at any moment we would either be dead or wish we were.” He looked up from his porridge bowl to meet my eyes. “So yes, I’m interested in Ahsoka Tano. Tell me to kriff off and I will, otherwise, we just see where it will go… day by day.”

I didn’t answer, mostly because I was eating and carefully probing current probability lines going forward.

Saw just looked down again, took a bite from his porridge and waited patiently. A virtue that was won in pain and suffering in a rhydonium labor camp.

“Well, we’ll just have to see, Saw Gerrera. I’m not currently looking. My heart is a fickle thing which has already fallen in love, it will most likely end up being unrequited because that object of affection is so out of my league with complications. I’m also the head of a Mandalorian clan, close to the royal throne and might have to marry in alliance for politics. That’s even before the Jedi Order comes into the equation.”

Saw blinked in raw astonishment, “You’re the Manda’lor of a Mando clan? Which one?”

“Vizsla.”

He just stared at me for a long while and eventually shook his head, “Anyone else tells me that, I’d think they’re trying to pull a con, but you’re you, a Jedi and I’m seriously talking to the leader of the most militant Mando clan out there.”

“Does that bother you? I know Onderon has a contentious history with my people. We did conquer your planet in the past.”

“That’s about as relevant to today as the old Sith Empire.”

I could only chuckle at that assertion. “Finish your porridge, Saw.”

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We met in the Rebel Council room afterward and for this meeting had a much smaller attendance, with the room locked down.

Chewie, Saw, Steela, Lux and about six of the most senior rebels that most definitely weren’t spies or even sleeper agents. As much as the latter was highly unlikely given the sheer young age of the rebellion, it was entirely possible that a rebel might cross back over to Rash, with the hopes of gaining recognition and riches from the CIS backed usurper. I was keeping a careful watch on the souls inside the building and beyond, sensing any indicator emotions that would lead in that direction.  

“Good morning to you all,” I began, surveying everyone in the room. Everyone looked fine and alert, though I sensed Steela and Lux were occasionally distracted with each other. 

“For the past four days, we’ve conducted a fairly successful harassment campaign of droid forces. We’ve had five injuries and two deaths, which is amazing, considering the odds that are against us. None of this has been in vain, however, because it not only keeps Rash distracted but it also allowed me to infiltrate and do some much needed reconnaissance. Which in turn, leads me to the OLFs first true target.”

I held up a palm holoprojector and tapped it.

A square screen popped up showing the profile of a very particular woman.

Lux gaped as he clearly recognized her, Saw’s face grew dark and stormy, whilst Steela blinked in astonishment. The other rebels murmured somewhat in awe.

“Some of you clearly recognize Lady Veyra Thalindra, Duchess of Onderon and High Custodian of Jente Expanse.”

The woman was the very essence of regal and commanding, sharp cheekbones, piercing emerald eyes and jet-black long hair woven with silver diadems in flowing onderonian designs, denoting her high rank.

“She is head of House Thalindra and controls roughly 70% of the rhydonium mines on the planet. A position her family has because the Jente Expanse has below it a subterranean network that contains the richest deposits of said mineral.”

“You really think we can sway someone like that to our cause? They’re the richest family on Onderon,” Steela said eventually.

“And one of the oldest,” Lux stared hard into the holo of the noble woman. “I don’t know, commander. I’ve met Lady Thalindra and she is fully loyal to Rash. I know for a fact she didn’t raise one word of objection when Dendup was deposed and since then has done everything he said.”

I internally sighed and had to remind myself that for all that Lux was being groomed by his mother into politics and leadership, he was still relatively young. She had yet to introduce him to the dark side that came with the territory. Though he had been tempered by his experiences of survival in the jungle, he had yet to learn of the monsters with sharp smiles that walked on two feet. His mother had been planning to open his eyes within the year, but then their separation had happened.

It would’ve been nice if I could make use of Fulcrum to connect the two again, but Lux was not a recruitment prospect. I would at least be able to provide Mina with an update on her son that wasn’t subject to information control or self-censorship.

“Lady Thalindra is doing what anyone in her position would do, survival, looking after her House and her own interests. By my own observation and many accounts of her, she is a shrewd businesswoman and noble who can tell which way the wind is blowing and will yield to it, lest it otherwise destroy her. Raising any word against Rash with the droid army of the Separatists at his back, not to mention a political power that effectively controls a fair percentage of the galaxy at the moment, is not wise when you want to retain your own freedom.”

“Saving her own skin at the cost of how many of her fellow onderonians,” Saw sneered. “It was one of her mines that I was enslaved in.”

I glared at him warningly, “Something she will be living with on her conscience for the rest of her days, yet I challenge anyone in her shoes not to make the exact same decisions. I observed her residence for two days and she is not happy with the current state of affairs, to say the least. She has to be careful though, because Rash has her under surveillance and she knows it. There are at least two members of her household staff who report to Rash directly, only one of which she suspects, but can’t do anything about.”

“So we recruit her into the OLF?” Lux asked, whilst Saw glared at him for suggesting it.

“There is no greater pillar of support for Rash at the moment, which can be turned to supporting you,” I gestured to the rebels around the room. “Even if she is convinced, it will not be overt support. At best she can provide a direct ear into the Royal court, funds and other intelligence on droid positions around her mines, but this is the first crucial step that needs to happen if you’re to succeed.”

Steela sat back, looking around and reading the room, “Let’s do it.”

“Agreed,” said Lux eventually.

All eyes turned to Saw.

His jaw muscle was bulging as he grit his teeth behind his lips. “Fine, but I want there to be some form of reckoning or justice after the war is over, for Thalindra and all others like her.”

“Saw, the very courts that’ll be used for that will have judges that are just as guilty of injustices committed under Rash’s orders,” Lux pointed out.

“Then we get new judges!”

“Your society will need to come to terms with this period after the war is over,” I explained solemnly. “How you choose to do so will determine whether you stay as Onderonians, reconcile and recognize that everyone was put into an impossible position by a greater external force or fracture yourself into an entirely new civil war. The latter of which will be playing right into the Separatist’s hands, because if they can’t have the rhydonium, they’ll certainly not want it going to the Republic. A civil war on this planet will be just the ticket to achieving that.”

“So it’s all about the kriffing rhydonium in the end?” Saw’s accusatory glare was rather amusing.

“Yes, it would be nice for those minerals to flow into the Republic, but they are currently only trickling through towards the Separatists, who must sneak through the front lines in cloaked light freighters. You can imagine this is another reason why Lady Thalindra isn’t happy, as the rhydonium is building up faster than can be shipped offworld. It therefore is being stockpiled at greater and greater cost, which is another reason her recruitment into the OLF is only of benefit to her in the long run. Personally, I couldn’t give a frak where it goes, as long as its sale is to the benefit of the Onderonian people.

“Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to contact the esteemed Lady in such a way that doesn’t see her joining King Dendup in a prison cell.”

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Veyra opened her eyes to another day.

A day that had seemed to be repeating itself for more than a year.

She regarded a luxurious large bed that was empty, missing the presence of her husband, who was still functionally trapped on Raxus Prime. His absence was like a black hole in her heart, pulling away all warmth and any possibility of joy. The walls of the mansion, decorated with thousands of years of her family’s history in classic paintings, hunting trophies of the wild beasts of Onderon so old that her family had to have full time taxidermist just to make sure they didn’t fall apart, tapestries and carpets so beautiful, it felt like sacrilege to walk on them, yet all of it felt like a prison these days.

She thumped her head against her pillow, working up the will to even get out of bed.

Eventually, she managed that small victory and arose blearily, absently stripping off her sleeping gown and walking into the expansive refresher.

She let the blissfully warm water batter her from all sides, trying and failing not to remember all the delightful times Jegan was in here with her, running up the mansion’s water bill. She barely managed to resist the temptation of pleasuring herself at the moment.

Veyra almost punched the controls to switch the soapy water off when she could no longer ignore the pruning of her skin and the drying stream of accelerated air started automatically.

She emerged from the fresher feeling only slightly better and sat down in front of her vanity, her hands automatically beginning the process of visually transforming her into the formidable Lady Thalindra. 

The small door in the vanity opened and B4-CU, her personal grooming droid, floated out.

“Good grief, mistress, what are you doing with your hair?!”

She paused, realizing that her hands had already begun folding and weaving her tresses into a style she remembered from her youth.

“It’s all yours, CU,” she said, turning instead to applying the foundation on her cheeks.

The droid puffed up, muttering about inept organics who couldn’t even remember a simple triple hair weave, and its dexterous manipulators got busy coaxing her hair into the current style she preferred. It was grand, but not too ostentatious, practical that could use her own hands to fix if it was required during the day.

It wasn’t long until the mirror reflected the face she presented to the world and her thoughts turned to the rest of her body. Still looking like she was in her late twenties, despite having brought three children into the world, all of whom were already adults and involved in their own businesses around Onderon. The benefits of wealth and being able to travel to a world with rather relaxed laws regarding such things.

She stood and walked into her closet, deciding from among the latest Onderionian styles had always been a pain, since she always had to keep in mind who she was meeting during the day. These days she couldn’t find it in herself to care, and chose the first thing that crossed her eye; indigo and gold robes embroidered with shimmering auridium-threaded designs.

She emerged from the master bedroom and into the expansive hallway that ran as the main spine through the mansion.

“Good morning, Lady Thalindra,” said Pomur Gerr, her household chief of staff, appearing right on time as always and synchronized flawlessly to his Lady’s shifting schedule. The regal looking togruta was dressed to within an inch of perfection as always, his long lekku and montrals adorned with the curving thin patterns favored on Onderon.

“Morning, Gerr, anything to report?” she asked as he fell in step next to her.

“The groundskeeper is asking for extra manure shipments, with the current soil readings he estimates that our garden will be looking rather barren come next season.”

“Can’t have that, now can we? Make sure it happens,” she said, Gerr immediately tapped the order into his datapad.

“Also your speeder for today’s mining inspection has been serviced and fully fueled. You could take a trip around the planet, if you so wished.”

“I’m just far too busy, but it’s ever so tempting,” Veyra let her mouth twitch with amusement, her eyes twinkling just so. She honestly wished she could truly feel that level of impulsive adventurism again. The days when she could just grab the family star yacht and hyper anywhere in the galaxy.

“The Royal Guard has also sent a message indicating the adjoining street will be open before your scheduled departure.”

“Kriffing terrorists,” she said with just the right amount of sneer.

“Quite so, my Lady.”

“And they didn’t even send a preliminary report?”

“No, my Lady.”

“I’ll have to make sure I wring the ears of our Minister of Security at court tonight.”

“If my Lady would be so kind as to wear her stealth holosensor, I could use a laugh.”

“Anything for you, my dear Gerr, considering you helped babysit the man.”

“The latest financials are waiting at your seat in the main dining hall, along with your breakfast. Bargu has outdone himself today, the broadleaf has never looked so succulent, the bread fresh from the oven is-”

“I’m sure it’s delicious as always,” she interrupted him curtly. She understood her staff were trying everything in their power to keep her spirits up, but it just made her feel much too spoiled, even by the standards that she was used to.

He opened the door for her and bowed her into the dining hall.

Her shoes echoed on the highland stone floor, polished to mirror sheen and reflecting the overhead chandelier’s lighting. The long table, which could easily seat more than a hundred guests at a time and had done so on many occasions in the past, smelt of the fragrant wood it was made from. She trailed her hand on its smooth surface, her eyes taking in the carefully carved reliefs below the outer layer, depicting a vast historical diorama of Onderon’s ancient past.

Her mind brought up the stories her grandfather would tell using it, talking of the ancient Beast Wars, the Naddits Uprising, first contact with the Old Republic, the assignment of Jedi Master Arca Jeth as the planet’s Watchman, the Mandalorian invasion. It had fascinated her so much as a child and what she wouldn’t give to have grandpa back again so he could advise her on just what the kriff to do about the situation Onderon faced today.

The planet was literally living through a period that would be written about in history for future generations. What would the historians write?

That it was ushered into a new golden age under the auspices of the CIS, shaking off the yoke of a corrupt Republic, as all Rash’s propagandists spewed out or that the planet was led to ruin, its glory and infrastructure smashed by a vengeful Republic.

She sat down at her breakfast at the head of the table, began eating with her right hand and picked up the datapad to study.

Just looking at it made her want to slump in her seat. It was as if her spirit wanted to drain out of her feet and spread all over the floor.

The financials for Thalindra Energy Works made for dismal reading, a nearly sixty percent decline in year-on-year revenue. She could practically feel every previous noble head of the family staring over her shoulder from their positions in the Force. Their accusatory stares hitting the back of her head, that she should’ve found a solution to the problem already!

The income from the CIS sales was coming, but the volume just wasn’t there to sustain the economies of scale. Until those clankers could find a way to cloak an entire bulk freighter, it wouldn’t happen.

Even local sales for domestic industry only accounted for barely eleven percent of the old pre-war market. For all of Rash’s promises, his policies and back room ‘encouragement’ of local business leaders, it had only managed to push that up to eighteen percent.

Either way, she was looking at a massive contraction of all operations over the next year. There was simply no choice. Anything that affected TEW, had a major impact on House Thalindra.

Her forebears had been wise enough to spread the House’s investment across many sectors of the Onderonian economy; a tanking rhydomium market would not be the end, but it would hurt massively nonetheless.

She had to face the fact that there was no clever ploy, gambit or brilliant masterstroke that could be applied. The rhydomium industry that had been built on Onderon had been designed from the ground up to supply at minimum a sector-wide demand, from Kuat in the Core to a fair slice of Hutt space in the east. The war and Rash’s ambition for power had in the end left the planet isolated and surrounded.

There was nothing to be done, but to just eat up the losses and adapt… somehow.

Her fork clinked loudly on an empty plate and she looked down only to find she had been so engrossed that there was no breakfast left, she had eaten it all on autopilot.

She dropped the utensil with slight disgust at herself. Before all this she would’ve never been so unmindful of anything. Every action had to be deliberate, calculated. Awareness of her own surroundings had to be kept at all times. Her late father would’ve been appalled.

House Thalindra was powerful and rich, a state of affairs which attracted envy and made enemies.

Grandfather had nine assasination attempts during his lifetime, her father had twelve, all had failed and only old age had claimed them in the end because of the rigid training and discipline they had received. From when she had been old enough to understand words and concepts as a tiny girl, she had been trained similarly.

An assassin would’ve found her easy prey at that moment.

She took a deep breath, in and out, slowly, casting off her useless anger.

It happened Veyra, get over it and move on.

In moments, she fell back into the mindset worthy of Thalindra, taking up the reins she had dropped in her weakness.

She stood with her datapad and walked briskly. Gratified to feel that in her lapse she still had remembered to put on the thigh straps for her holdout blaster pistol, perfectly designed to fit between her legs, even as she walked.

A few minutes later she was emerging from the mansion itself and into the enclosed parking for the various speeders that the House owned. It was a collection of vehicles that ranged in age from a vintage 900 year old Czerka Enforcer to a modern Rendili. Each had their use, from sporty speed to being able to support a hunt in the most remote jungles.

For her purpose today, it was the Corellian Vanguard.

An armored and shielded speeder with enclosed seating for six, plus the pilot at the front, partially enclosed.

Rolmir, her family’s pilot and mechanic for the last decade, was already seated inside, doing the final checklist and waved at her through the polarized transparisteel.

The speeder’s side door hissed open and she deftly took a seat, organizing her robes properly to avoid them bunching up.

“Morning, my Lady.”

“Morning Rolmir, everything all right?”

The lean and wiry pilot, dressed in a professional dark green driver uniform trimmed in silver, tipped his hat with a slight salute, a sign of his time in the Onderonian guard. “All systems green and locked in, my Lady.”

“Then by all means, let’s go.”

“As you order, my Lady.”

The speeder thrummed to life underneath her, only minor vibrations making it through to the cabin before being damped out entirely into a barely perceptible background hum. The seat moulded itself to her back in comfort, before the speeder lifted itself up into the air and glided gently forward towards the garage’s ceiling exit, which opened smoothly just in time for Rolmir to expertly guide it out in the fresh morning air of Iziz.

The city turned from the giant towering sprawl of the northern district, into a flat expanse of beautiful architecture stretching out as the speeder gained altitude. The north was an attempt to bring a bit of the natural into the artificial, most buildings had rooftop gardens and were given enough space around them for planting large specimens of every tree and other flora native to Onderon. 

“Where to first, my Lady?”

“Let’s go north-west, Valthor Five.”

“Valthor Five, it is,” he nodded, shifting the speeder’s course immediately.

It was the closest mine to Iziz and consequently had the largest infrastructure and assets tied to it.

She blinked and suddenly became aware that she was not alone in the speeder’s cabin.

Out of the corner of her eye, seated just under a meter away was a figure wearing a soldier’s harness and armor, with non-regulation clothing that had seen better days. She could suddenly smell his presence, a vaguely pleasant scent that was common for Onderonian men to apply after shaving.

Her heart sped up as her mind struggled with the impossibility of it, trying to reconcile how someone could just appear inside the cabin of the speeder mid flight!

Her mind gibbered and struggled between freezing in fright, giving any indication that she had seen him or plunging her hand towards her hidden blaster.

The sudden movement of his hands almost made her react with lethal intent, but he simply raised both his hands in a disarming gesture and spoke for the first time.

“My sincerest apologies, Lady Thalindra,” said a surprisingly youthful voice.

As quickly as she could, her blaster was in hand and shoved into the face of…

“Lux Bonteri?”

Her mask cracked and she couldn’t help but gape at the incongruent sight of the young boy she had seen a mere two years ago at a banquet, walking around in the wake of his mother, with the inherent naivety painfully radiating off him. Now he had grown into manhood and wore it in every aspect of his bearing, his clothing speaking of the battles he had out in the jungles and others, much more recently. He was armed with a blaster at his hip and in his harness pouches had the distinct spherical anti-droid munitions.

“Good to you see again, my Lady,” he said, not flinching at all despite the business-end of a blaster in his face. “Sorry again, for the fright, but it’s the only way we could safely talk.”  

“How… how did you get in here?” she demanded. Her mind immediately defaulted to finding how her security had been breached to such a catastrophic level.

“That would be my doing, my Lady,” said a new female voice from the pilot’s position.

Veyra didn’t dare look or aim away from Lux, her heart sinking at the thought that Rolmir had been hurt or compromised in some way.

“You can relax, your driver is safe and sound back in his quarters. He’s just sleeping in a bit,” said the voice with a slight hint of amusement.

“You have me at a clear disadvantage,” Veyra growled, her finger shaking slightly on the trigger.

“Indeed, but given the level of surveillance you are under, it makes these theatrics an unfortunate necessity.”

Her mysterious interlocutor equated the impossibility of appearing in mid-air within a moving speeder, subverting every security measure and technology her house employed… theatrics?

“Please, my Lady,” Lux said calmly, with a regretful twist in his features. “I know from your point of view that this is strange and alarming-”

“To say the least, young man. You’ve definitely taken to Mina’s penchant for understatement.”

“Yes,” he winced. “But… allow me to introduce to you Commander Ahsoka Tano of the Jedi Order.”

Jedi Order?

She chanced looking left and saw a mildly smiling togruta, just about in the cusp of adulthood for her kind, judging by the lekku length and who was wearing her household staff green uniform impeccably.

Well, that could explain some things, but she was unaware that usage of the Force could lead to such outlandish feats! Unless…

“You meddled with my mind and perceptions?” she asked thunderously.

“Just enough for you to dismiss Lux’s presence and see me as Mr. Rolmir Dotu. We were already in the speeder when you climbed in, hence, the illusion that we appeared out of thin air.”

That anyone, let alone a Jedi, could actually do that was frightening to the core. She had known that they could wield distractions for the mind, minor tricks in addition to the flashy powers that were spoken of Onderon’s legends and history, but this…

Her mind fell upon the next implication, given Tano’s presence and Lux’s armament, the ‘terrorist’ events in the city.

“The Republic is behind these last two weeks,” she stated with certainty.

Lux shook his head, “On the contrary, my Lady. I was the one who reached out to the Republic, asking for their support in liberating Onderon from the Separatists. They’ve agreed to support the new Onderon Liberation Front, which I along with others have formed. Commander Tano is here as an advisor.”

Mina’s little boy had turned into this? She felt like she had walked into some bizarre version of reality.

She turned her glare to Tano. “An advisor? Considerably more than that I should say. Did you also mess with Lux’s head?”

“I have not, my Lady. It is not done idly and without good cause. My compliments though, your mind was considerably difficult to influence.”

“Yet you seem to have managed all the same,” Veyra said bitterly. “Am I to assume that was how you penetrated through every security arrangement I have?”

“Feel free to make that assumption,” said Tano, with a perfectly bland face and twinkle of amusement in those blue eyes. “Now please, all this was done so that you and Lux could have a very important conversation away from any possibility of Rash overhearing or even knowing about it. You think he only has one spy in your household, that you’ve subverted every listening device or spy sensor. There is in fact, another who has neatly used the first as a cover, attracting all your counterintelligence efforts and giving you a false sense of security.”

It took every ounce of willpower for the grip on her blaster not to slacken in her astonishment. She wanted to again gibber at the impossibility, but her mental comportment training only solidified against the emotion. She pulled away from the emotions that the claim inspired and focused.

“And who do you claim is this second spy?”

The Jedi raised her own hands slowly into view and had a small datapad lodged between two of the fingers of her right hand. “It’s all on here.”

The pad floated supernaturally forward, crossing the space with a deliberate slow pace to stop just outside Veyra’s personal space.

She sighed and finally lowered the blaster, realizing that there was no way with a Jedi in such close quarters that she could even pull the trigger. There was also no way she was going to hurt Mina Bonteri’s son.

She whipped her robe’s sleeve around her hand before grabbing the small pad, being weary of contact delivered substances and poisons.

A quick tap activated the pad and she began reading… a very familiar face appeared on the screen and she wanted to immediately throw it right back into the Jedi’s bland face.

Yet again she was presented with the impossible, made painfully more and more real as she forced herself to continue reading and there were even damning holo recordings. It clearly showed her personal scribe Mirene, talking in clandestine fashion to that sneaky wretch Okalin. Revealing confidential TEW financial data, but also clearly talking about her recent despondent state of mind at the fortunes of the company and House Thalindra.

Veyra had to give Tano some credit here, the entire report was thorough, professional and just how the Jedi had managed to get some of this without Mirene even knowing as well, spoke again to the supernatural skill that adherents of the Force possesed. Some of this should’ve been impossible to get without her scribe finding out, yet here it was all the same. It also couldn’t be a fabrication because everything aligned with utterly no errors in context.

“Oh, by the way, your datapad,” Tano gestured to the larger pad lying almost forgotten on the seat next to her. “It had a minor short and malfunction, the moment we appeared to you.”

She leaned back in her seat, sighing wearily, “Let me guess, commander. Another listening device from my thoroughly treacherous scribe?”

Tano smiled, “Correct, though one that doesn’t transmit remotely. Merely records, which Mirene Tovall will later retrieve from you.”

“All I can say at this point is thank you and though I can surely make a reasonable guess why you are here, speak your mind, Lux.”

He nodded, “My Lady, we need your help. While the Republic’s help is appreciated, the liberation of Onderon will not truly succeed if we don’t have more local support and you’re the second most powerful noble house on the planet.”

Veyra understood their logic immediately, yet she didn’t get to her current position in the nobility to just jump on the first potential lifeline thrown her way. There was still the not so small matter of whether this OLF could succeed militarily in the long run. She had studied their attacks in Iziz, for her own intelligence and security. It was clever, played to their strengths, but it was just pinpricks to the CIS war machine currently on the planet.

“And what makes you think I’m not happy with Rash on the throne? That I don’t want Onderon as part of the CIS?”

“My Lady,” Lux actually looked a bit offended. “Do you really think we’d come here if we didn’t already know? Even if we didn’t have access to TEW financials, simple common sense would dictate that your business can’t be doing well without access to Republic and Hutt markets. As long as Rash is on the throne, that won’t change.”

“Let’s say you strip him from that throne and reinstall Dendup, you still have a huge amount of droids to deal with. Dendup might have been a reasonable king during peace, but he is not martially minded at all. None of our so-called ‘military’ have really fired so much as a blaster bolt in an active campaign, it’s a token force at best. The defense grid has kept our planet safe.”

“We have a plan that can deal with the majority of the droids outside the cities, as for those inside… we also have the beginning of one, but it requires a lot more ground work and more importantly, credits and a steady supply line.”

“And you’re not going to be more forthcoming, because I could just go running back to Rash and tell him of your ‘master plan’, assuring him of my loyalty.”

Lux only looked at her in what he clearly thought of as a neutral face, but his eyes radiated a raw hope that was desperate.

Mina still has much to teach him.

Veyra looked out of the speeder’s window, the edges of the capital city passing by as they emerged over the raw untamed jungle canopies.  

Why am I hesitating? Had I not been despairing over a solution for over a year and now that one dropped into my lap…

Again, it felt like her house forebears were glaring into the back of her head.

She made her decision.

“Understand that I must appear to remain loyal to Rash, until the time is right.”

The tension left Lux’s body like a leaking airbag. “Thank you, my Lady.”

“Don’t thank me, Lux, until our planet is free. Tell me what you need.”

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“Your attacks over the last two weeks have Count Dooku’s attention,” declared Obi-Wan’s holo, to the assembled Onderon rebel council.

The transmission was being relayed clandestinely through the Skyfang in orbit and M8 was doing constant encryption cycling to stay ahead of any CIS attempts to trace or disrupt it.

“Republic Intel detected an coded interstellar transmission from Serenno to the palace last night, whilst it can’t be deciphered as yet, we can make a fair guess as to what was discussed between Rash and Dooku. Their response is coming and it will be harsh. They will stop at nothing to find you. You must adapt and continue to confront them whilst building your allies for the eventual goal of liberation.”

“We will,” asserted Saw with determination.

“And we’ll win,” Steela grinned.

“With that spirit, I have no doubt,” Obi-Wan said encouragingly.

Anakin’s holo gazed across the assembled rebels, “You’ve made your first ally among the nobles and no doubt many people on the streets have seen your actions first hand. Sentiment is shifting among them and you must continue that momentum. You will need the majority support of the people for any hope of future success. Your ability to direct and influence them will also determine your capacity to represent them, not only on the battlefield but off it, against your enemies and even within your own ranks. Your commitment to the cause will inspire, your conviction, to victory.”

“Now we come to the next problem, leadership. You’ve managed so far with a decidedly unconventional style, which has worked whilst you only had to worry about yourselves. Going forward however, the people will need a singular leader to follow and rally behind.”

I watched as Saw, Steela and Lux eyed each other. They also saw Obi-Wan’s point and they didn’t like the thought that it would most likely come down to a vote among the OLF. A vote which would undoubtedly draw firmer lines of division among the rebellion. What before had been nebulous would become distinct in everyone’s eyes.

“You’re correct, of course, Master Kenobi,” Lux plunged into the uncomfortable silence that had settled into the room. “In the interest of fairness, impartiality and transparency, perhaps the declaration of support can be done by verbal acclamation in this room, with Ahsoka presiding over the count.”

“It won’t exactly be the Senate, but that sounds more than acceptable,” Obi-Wan nodded.  

“We will each present our case for leadership to the OLF in an hour, when we can gather everyone to hear?” suggested Steela.

“While this is important, don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be,” Anakin advised.

“I’ll send out the word to assemble,” declared Saw and left the room with purpose.

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Sanjay Rash sat in his throne and pulled on every lesson and experience to command the seat, to appear like he alone was worthy and belonged in it.

The holo of Count Dooku flickered into existence and despite being separated by thousands of light years, despite merely wearing his usual understated Serennioan attire, Rash couldn’t help but feel the power and command the man exuded. It was written in the very essence of the leader of the CIS and it was something that Rash would give anything to achieve a similar status.

Dooku’s will was written across the galaxy and was deciding the fate of hundreds of systems and worlds.

It was power and he wanted it as well.

“I have given the matter some thought, Rash,” Dooku said, using the cadence of speech that had swayed a countless many to his cause. “You will receive the help you need, but merely increasing the number of droids on Onderon, as logistically difficult as it will be, will not make a difference here.”

“Agreed, but what could you send that will?”

“You need a general worthy of the title.”

The holo of a droid stepped into being next to Dooku.

Rash blinked in astonishment at the tall droid, clearly based on a standard tactical droid chassis but with clear refinement in its lines, which included armor thick enough to compare to a B2. The upper chest and head was also adorned in a deep green with organic golden swirls. It was almost as if someone had made an art project of a new model tac droid. The face had tri optics with glowing orange sensors. The arms and legs had articulation that seemed superior to commando droids and its hands even had five digits. In all it somehow made for a distinctly menacing package.

“This is Kalani. He’s the first of a new model from Baktoid, programmed and informed with the lessons learned so far in the war, given the salvaged experience of thousands of older model tactical droids which have been lost. He is an ST-series strategic military analysis droid and will root out your terrorist problem by the stem.”

“He certainly sounds impressive, but the true test will be here on Onderon.”

“He will succeed where you have failed,” Dooku said coldly. “We trusted you to lead Onderon whilst you were still behind enemy lines. The last year has been adequate but now I see you were incompetently allowing this problem to fester and grow, thinking it beneath the CIS’s notice. Kalani will arrive in five days, but he has already assimilated all relevant tactical data and will be issuing orders via holo. I expect you to obey to the letter. Understand, Rash?”

He felt his fury grow with each word. The sheer gall of it, obeying a droid, no matter how cleverly programmed as if ‘it’ was the king? Yet Rash had no choice in the matter, it would take Dooku but a single order and a team of commando droids would butcher their way through the Royal Guard and strip him off this throne. Then it would just be a matter of using the tactical droids to create a digital puppet of him to declare martial law throughout Iziz, if not the entire planet!

“I understand,” he nodded, betraying not a hint of his anger and biting into a fruit casually. “I look forward to working with you, Kalani.”

“Expect my call,” said the droid coldly, its artificial voice grating on the ear.

The holo winked out without further fanfare.

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Presiding over an election was not something I had ever considered I’d be doing as a Jedi.

The speeches that Saw, Steela and Lux had given to the OLF was thankfully abbreviated affairs, since only Lux had any sort of oratory training.

He hadn’t even been speaking for more than thirty seconds before he shook his head and conceded. “I am the son of Senator Mina Bonteri. Eventually the people will see her as being a part of what led us into this mess. There is some poetic justice in righting the wrong of your parent, but what’s needed now is not just words, but action as well. I am not the one who can lead you.”

Saw in his turn spoke with clear passion and zeal, “We must keep our momentum. Every strike against the droids that we come back from is more experience. This is just the beginning of the fight for our world. The Republic and the GAR are in no position at the moment to aid us when this war inevitably becomes more conventional. Even if we liberate Iziz tomorrow or in a month, there’s more droid legions out there in the other cities and mines. Everyone who can fight, will need to fight and that takes training, supplies and leadership.”

He didn’t need to say that he thought he was the one who could bring that leadership, but he at least wasn’t arrogant enough to say it blatantly.

Steela spoke from the heart and her sincerity was quite captivating, “Onderon is ours. We will remind everyone and keep reminding them, until we get it back. Whether it be by our actions with blaster in hand or our words spoken across this planet to every ear willing to listen. We will not be Rash’s puppets or Dooku’s. We are Onderon!”

The cheering that roared in the building afterwards, not to mention the chants of ‘For Freedom! For Onderon!’ made the actual election some perfunctory, but we let every member come forward and make their mark on a large datapad.

“With 73% of the vote, your leader is Steela Gerrera,” I declared formally.

Another round of enthusiastic cheers and war cries resounded.

“It’s been decided then,” Saw acknowledged, going to his sister and placing a hand on her shoulder. His eyes were stormy but I could literally feel the love he had for his sibling, but also the worry of what this leadership burden would do to her. “You’re our leader, Steela.”

He abruptly turned around and left the room, seeking solitude as men do when things got too emotional.

“Saw?”

“Easy Steela, let him go,” Lux gently held her by the arm.

“Were it that easy, I know my brother, he’ll go and get into the worst trouble he can find.”

“He’s going to the training warehouse, judging by the direction he’s walking and will likely just exhaust himself into sleep,” I countered, then tapped my head to tell her how I knew.

She frowned and accepted that, “We’re going to need him and… I’m going to need him by my side if we’re going to do this.”

“And he’ll be there, Steela. I don’t think any brother worth his salt would let his little sister walk alone into the danger you’re going towards.”

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A/N: Apologies for delay on this one, long duration power outage since early Thursday. The first domino has been tipped, the fight for Onderon will be a multi-front affair. Have a great weekend and stay awesome folks.

2078: Highriders - Chapter 10

When you thought about ‘night’ on Earth, it was the absence of the sun, things cooled down, and the stars came out.

Every land dwelling organism on the planet had evolved around the diurnal cycle in some fashion; birds settled into nests, most feline predators became active, ancient humans went into their caves and a whole host of other adaptations. Then humanity invented fire and was the first species to break away from the ‘tyranny’ of evolved behaviors when that big source of light and warmth in the sky went away. It was a war that had continued and in the relatively modern era, was generally won.

That war opened an entirely new front when the first lunar colonists arrived to stay.

Lunar night was harsh, to say the least.

The biggest hazard for any equipment, which included the very systems keeping you alive, was the temperature drop. From the early probes sent by humanity in the 1950s all throughout the early Space Age, it was learned that the best material sciences and electronics of the time just couldn’t survive going through 14 days of -173 degrees Centigrade then be expected to return to the blistering 127 degrees in the day. The thermal expansion and management systems of the time were just too bulky and so scientists built them to last for the 14 Earth days of Lunar day.   

By the early days of Lunar colonization, material sciences had improved greatly, but not far enough. So humanity went underground, taking their delicate machinery below as well to sit within the thermal heat envelopes that were keeping them alive. It meant surface work on the moon practically ceased every 14 days.

This was unacceptable to the corps and so they took up humanity’s torch to wage war against the tyranny of a new cycle imposed on it.

Billions of eddies were poured into science and research, until finally a partial victory was attained in the late 2010’s, with the invention of the first memory materials. Substances and materials that ‘remembered’ their ideal state and position, which could ride out the deep roller coaster of swinging temperatures and not break down during thermal contraction and expansion. It hadn’t helped with the finer electronics, but it meant that the first mass drivers could be built and not wreck themselves after the first lunar night.

Then came metamaterials, which considerably miniaturized thermal systems and allowed their application on the tiny scale that allowed electronics to survive that roller coaster as well.

Therefore by the 2050s, surface work in the Lunar night became generally possible.

The complete darkness, however, with only starlight and Earthshine to help, was another obstacle - this time to the human psyche.

My world in meatspace was reduced to only the tiny cabin of the rover, beyond its windows was a void, one that we couldn’t pierce with the exterior lighting without unnecessarily waving a huge optical flag to everyone within sightline. The only clue that there was even anything out there was the feeling of the traction on the wheels, the occasional bump and thump as the suspension system did its work to keep us on the surface.   

The rover had a digital night vision system with IR illumination, but I had to keep the latter off to minimize our radiant signature. This reduced its effectiveness and presented me with a narrow forward cone of vision at a significantly reduced resolution. I could see enough for proper navigation but detail to spot anything smaller than a person was out of the question beyond a few hundred meters.

The one thing that nothing could hide was our thermal sig. We were a big ball of heat thanks to the Starbreaker Nomad’s radioisotope heater units, that could be easily seen from high lunar orbit if any ship or satellite was up there.

The only way to ‘hide’ the rover was in misdirection and subterfuge, meticulously planned for by the highriders.

To anyone looking or scanning, this would be a fully registered and sanctioned rover on its way to an ESA outpost in the east of Mare Tranquillitatus, carrying two technicians for a repair on the Apollo museum dome. It would soon be suffering an unfortunate malfunction that would be delaying their arrival.

I pulled my foot off the accelerator and feathered the Nomad’s brakes slightly, to drop us from our blistering speed of 20 kph down to five, the safe speed for any significant turns, and turned the wheel to avoid the looming crater ahead.

Yes, I could’ve made life in the rover much easier by only relying on the shield of subterfuge, switching on everything, but I knew better.

Back on the accelerator I pushed us back up to 18 kph steadily.

I gave a mild glare to Johnny’s seemingly sleeping form in the passenger seat. He had completely clocked out of meatspace and was in his own Relic fortress doing whatever he did in there. I wasn’t even remotely tempted to visit as we had spent enough time in each other’s heads already.

He wasn’t being a complete loafer though, as I could sense his data flows managing the rover’s LIDAR for terrain mapping and general threat detection, the ground penetrating radar for subsurface cavity detection and he had his proverbial finger on the trigger of the 10mm railgun mount.  

It was a little undergunned by my own standards, but you couldn’t exactly drive the equivalent of my custom Herrera Outlaw ‘Weiler’ with dual heavy caliber machine guns on the moon. It would fly in the face of keeping the moon ‘demilitarized’ and my Weiler was a tank in stylish disguise.

The Starbreaker Nomad rather fittingly felt like I was back in Panam’s Thorton Warhorse, but with enough space to almost stand, tons more controls, holos and systems. 

I could imagine her derision at the comparison.

No earthbound nomad would be caught dead in something as relatively flimsy or slow, but I challenged any vehicle to handle lunar dust in low gravity as well as the Starbreaker Nomad could, easily climb more than a thirty degree slope and laugh at craters up to 1 meter deep.

The slight ache in my heart made me wish I could fire up the com system and try contacting my second best female friend again. I had tried a few days ago immediately after catching up with Vik and Misty, but had been unable to reach Panam on standard holo.  

Reception in the Badlands outside Night City was spotty at the best of times and with the Aldocaldos moving away from the region into Southern California, it wouldn’t be getting better until they got near Los Angeles. I had left her a suitably vague message that would at least get some of the major non-classified points across to her and a localized contact path that would let her reach me in Tycho City.

That couldn’t happen while I was on mission and under digital disguise.    

“We there yet?”

I gave Johnny an annoyed look for the utterly anachronistic and cliché question. He knew down to computerized longitude and latitude measuring precisely where we were on the lunar surface at the moment, what our average speed was given the current terrain and our ETA. Even the onboard AI, a TensorFlow based neural net model built by the Starbreaker highrider workgroup, gave Johnny the equivalent of an unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“Fine, sue me for trying to inject some life into this slow bucket of bolts. My grandma could walk faster than this.”

“We have seven hours to go before we have to continue on foot, you could spend it doing anything in cyberspace.”

“Did that for six months V and can only stomach doing it now for so long at a time. You know what the problem is with the ability to do anything in virtu? You can live out your most vivid fantasies to fool all your five conventional senses, but we don’t have just those five any more. We can feel the data behind it all and with that comes the sure realization that it’s hollow, fake and nothing more than a construct that will disappear the instant you will it to. No consequence to any action, no mark left or ripple that spreads out in the pond of existence.”

“Meaningless fun,” I nodded, idly steering around a nasty boulder.

“Precisely, but trust me, the novelty wears off very quickly,” Johnny leaned back in his seat and thumped his head against the rover’s titanium-carbon composite cabin strut, staring into the expansive forward viewport. “Prefer to be in meatspace for the moment.”

“Do you wish for me to take control, V?” asked Nomad 32.

“No thank you,” I said to the rover’s AI. “You can focus on watching out for corpo drone and other aerospace traffic over our heads.”

“Very well, I must point out that having such a conversation whilst driving in manual mode-”

“Yes, and were I a normal human, you’d have to worry, but I’m not.”

“Apologies V.”

“You don’t have a lot of experience yet 32, especially not with us, but you’ll get there eventually.”

The AI was barely a few months old and the rover was similarly new. Children of the Net could learn whatever they wanted fast, after they had been safely exposed to new concepts, but it was all theory and there was still no substitute for training and experience in meatspace.

Johnny reached forward and started fiddling with the rover’s radio.

The cabin was filled with static from the speakers as he adjusted the frequency buttons.

Luna had a number of radio stations and networks. The line between official and pirate stations was a blurry mess here. Technically, every highrider station would be considered illegal by Earth standards, but since there was nothing that could really police the spectrum in CIS Earth-Luna space, it was something of a Wild West in that regard.

He first found Highrider Freewave, a station that could be considered the primary voice of the Confederation, which broadcasted to all its citizens in their space stations and on Luna. The music was typical of the highriders, best described as afrobeat remixes, lunar folk songs and occasional electronica with pulsating bass lines that were uniquely suited for low gravity dancefloors.

Johnny grimaced and tuned away from it.

“Try 88.1 FM,” I suggested.

Heavy punk rock guitar riffs blasted into the cabin and immediately caught Johnny’s ear. His fingers were already twitching and moving as if he had his favorite axe in hand, imitating the riff.

“Interesting,” he admitted as the music smoothly transitioned with a drum baseline once more with an african-style primal drum mixed with modern design. You could hear it in the crisp sharpness and variety of the sound.

“Moonshot Rebel Radio, surprised you haven’t found them already.”

“Guess I’ve had my head up my ass too much lately to think about music,” Johnny leaned back into his seat to let the music thunder and flow over him.

I gave him an incredulous look, “Seriously?

He looked at his own hands, spreading out his fingers, before dexterously manipulating and testing the precision of every finger. “The Rockerboy belongs to another life, V. I will admit I had an impact, but Alt was at least partly right that I was deceiving myself.”

“You can’t go back as Johnny Silverhand, sure, but music is still a part of who you are at the core. Get yourself an axe and play. Fuck, I’ll get one too and we can duo.” I had experienced quite a bit of bleedthrough from Johnny when we were still merging with the old Relic, which included motor reflex skills related to guitar play. Since we had been disentangled, I’d been keeping up that ‘inherited’ skill and made it my own.

“Used to think that playing guitar solo in a room with no one else around was like getting yourself off, feels good but then fades too quickly and you’re left with the bitter hollowness afterward. Well, if there’s one thing you learned from me, at least this one is constructive.”

“I’ll begin a background search for finding some decent guitars around Tycho. Might have to get them made.”

“Parts can be lathed, but have to be put together by hand for them to be any good. Any wood around here is gonna be expensive as fuck, pure synth guitars are mostly shit.”

“If we can’t find anyone, I’ll build them myself.”

I could be a gunsmith or a cybertech at this point, which kinda came with the territory of being a good Edgerunner.

“Should be an interesting side project if nothing else,” Johnny admitted, he looked intrigued at the notion.

Further discussion was interrupted when Nomad 32 pinged us in cyberspace.

“Drone detected at 094, three hundred meters, it was loitering at low altitude inside a small crater.”

“I see it, Johnny, railgun.”

I focused the rover sensors and also picked up the drone’s own signal back to whoever was controlling it.

It was about the size of a large briefcase and even had similar dimensions, painted black as night and puffed about on cold gas thrusters. It almost reminded me of a Militech style drone, except minus the outfolding wings, which would’ve been useless on the moon anyway. What pegged it as different was the lack of any visible internal or external weaponry and when I plunged into the data linkage…

“Not corpo or Militech, despite appearances,” I declared, keeping the rover straight and steady. We’d thankfully left the boulder field behind now and had relatively smooth lunar regolith ahead and the walls of a few craters a couple of kilometers away. I pushed on the accelerator and the rover lurched to 24 kph, just below the hardcoded safety redline. Technically, the Nomad could do 50 with its four-wheel electric drive with independent hub motors powered by a nuclear thermocouple, but that was asking for disaster. A bump or unexpected terrain deviation at those speeds would send the rover flying and there was no guarantee it would land back on the wheels.

“You sure?” Johnny had the railgun traversed and ready to deliver shots.

“Pretty sure, the drone software is good, custom, but not corpo. It’s highrider.”

“Think Gakulu would have mentioned it if there were any workgroups out here.”

“If he knew about it in the first place, there are rumblings on highrider BBS about some tribes who manage to live completely off grid, even to the Confederation. They view it as too much like ‘what the Earthers would do’ and stay aloof, even to their fellow highriders. The drone encryption is very good and while I could break through it’ll be seen as a hostile act.”

“Drone is keeping pace, at two hundred meters.”

Then a message came through, piggy backing off the drone’s systems.

‘The Eclipse sees you, umntak. (brother) Do not deviate from your current route.’

“What the fuck?” Johnny frowned.

A quick internal database search let me understand somewhat. “Shit. We have a case of very fortunate mistaken identity here. The Eclipse Veil is a reclusive highrider tribe that wants one thing above all, privacy. Gakulu gave me a general primer on every tribe that’s known and these guys take it to a murderous extreme. If they figure out we’re not highrider, that drone will kamikaze us immediately and if that doesn’t work, a drone swarm will finish the job.”

“Should I keep the turret locked on the drone?”

“Yes, doing otherwise would immediately send up a red flag in their minds that we’re not who we appear to be. To a highrider, survival is everything, even from others.”

The drone kept shadowing us for another hour when it abruptly banked to the side and disappeared into a crater.

“We should avoid that territory in the future,” Johnny traversed the turret into a standby mode.

“If only, the Eclipse Veil are also believed to be semi-nomadic, they live in self-sustaining habitats carved into lunar craters and lava tubes. What could be their territory one day, could suddenly change when they move to another habitat.”

Johnny shook his head, “Think Gakulu just used us as a stick to see what came poking out of the cave.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll be sure to add extra to our fee.”

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We parked the Nomad behind a rising crater wall some hours later and chanced using some external lighting just to make the general task of unloading easier.

The rover looked distinctly eerie, as if we were on a tiny island of light and regolith, floating in an impenetrable void. The exterior was what I was coming to associate with highriders; vibrant geometric patterns and, when they were on, holographic tribal markings for the Starbreaker workgroup.

We let RALF out of the rear cargo bay and the robotic dog obediently came out and waited patiently for us to hook up our life support tethers and mount the articulated railgun on its back. 

We were barely done before it rose up on its legs and stomped the regolith impatiently, eager to set off.

“Easy boy,” I chided him. “You’re getting dust everywhere.”

RALF’s response was to radiate his discharge field and shed the dust in an almost smug fashion.

I gave him a flat look as best I could through my pressure helmet but got busy with the job of putting on a combat harness, rigging the armor plates and the weapons we would carry on us. Both Johnny and I were carrying snipers, whilst I also carried SMG and pistol. Our ammo was specialized, Militech spec, which had been mysteriously ‘misplaced’ in cargo handling by Gakulu’s own workgroup.

When we had checked and double checked everything, I ordered the Nomad into low emission standby mode. The radioisotope thermocouples were needed for the heater units that kept the rover in a decent condition, so there was nothing that could be done about that, except use the crater wall as a shield in the direction our prey was coming from.

I settled the SMG in my arms, “All right, I’ll take point, lights off.”

Our island of light vanished, to be replaced by utter darkness beyond the face shield of my helmet. Only balance and the light gravitational pull down kept us orientated. Luckily, my own integral Gemini optics came with built-in digital night vision, which was interfaced with the pressure suit to use a built-in forward IR illuminator mounted on the left shoulder. Johnny still had the Kiroshi ‘Cockatrice’ of my old body, but had it modded on a hardware and software level to feature DNV in the black clinic.

Meatspace became a world of augmented reality, giving real time generated renders of the environment mixing with a surreal drenched heatmap of false color assigned to temperature.

I turned my head experimentally, seeing no lag or errors as my perspective shifted and changed.

“Everything preem, Johnny?” I said over our line of sight laser link.

“Five millisecond lag, but it’ll do,” he grumbled.

We turned and began the hopping gait.

It was still the most efficient movement technique for a space-suited human on the outdoor lunar surface, pioneered by the Apollo 11 astronauts in 1969. Technology had come a long way and whilst we were infinitely more flexible and dexterous with a modern suit, it still didn’t take away the physics that necessitated the technique.

Low gravity meant each standard running step propelled you higher and further, hampering control and losing traction on the loose regolith was asking for you to kiss the moon.

The hopping gait was a gentle push off with both feet, aiming for a low, forward leaning trajectory to minimize the vertical bounce. The landing was performed with bending knees to absorb impact and maintain traction. The strides were long but had to be controlled to no more than 3 meters per hop. Arms had to be kept tucked in and learning to hop with a SMG in hand and even shoot while hopping had been quite a fun endeavor in the training shards.

RALF also easily kept pace and didn’t need to hop, between its four legs, grip pads and internal gyros it could perfectly speed across the regolith with no issue.

“Fuck,” Johnny muttered as he overcooked a hop and sent a small wave of regolith dust shooting forward. He quickly recovered, restarting the hops that flowed into each other.

Our speed for the next hour averaged to 13 kph and after two hours we took a break, mostly to give our suit’s heat management systems a chance to circulate and dump coolant fluid to RALF, so it could safely radiate from the flanks of the robot dog. It would’ve been nice to sit down, but the thermal balance of our suits was a delicate thing and it didn’t need to also be bothered with the complication of sitting our asses down on freezing cold regolith.   

Johnny rehydrated from the suit’s water reclamation before we set off again.

At hour three of our EVA, we started going uphill and soon finally arrived at our destination.

It was the summit of a hill that didn’t even have a name, only a number and it looked out over an pockmarked expanse. To the north, the sloping edge of an impact crater was deep enough that there were parts that didn’t see sunlight even during the day, the east had a relatively flat escarpment with the occasional boulder the size of a car. The west had the tall hill we were standing on and looked directly down on the route our quarry would take.

“How sure are we that the Arasaka gonks are going to pass through this?”

“More than 90%, it’s the most efficient route towards the Mitsubishi mining concession,” I gazed across the landscape, measuring potential spots for our perch and simulating potential scenarios and reactions that the black ops team would have once they were under fire.

“What if they don’t?” Johnny insisted.

“They’d be adding almost twenty hours to their journey, going around that crater. Found a spot you like yet?”

He gazed around and pointed to a smaller crater to the north-west. It was barely rendered in our digital vision, but was about six meters wide and two deep.

“Good enough, I suppose. I’ll take the other side, we create an enfilade of fire they’ll walk right into.”

“What about the launcher?” he suggested, tapping the extra surprise we had brought on his back.

“Last resort only, Johnny. They’re trying to be stealthy and can’t exactly do that packing rovers and drones. You take RALF as well,” I unhooked my support tether from the robot dog, switching over to internal life support.

“Fine.”

He was clearly reluctant, either thinking I was babying him by giving him RALF’s support or he’d rather that I keep the robot in some protective instinct. Either way, he shrugged off both and began hopping away to his little crater with RALF in tow.

A moment later, I also began hopping back down the hill to take a long way around to the other side of our ambush point.

The obvious problem was that the lunar regolith had a long memory. If I hopped straight across our ambush zone to my perch, my passage would draw a massive line pointing right to my location. Lunar night would obscure the disturbance in the virgin regolith somewhat, but I had to assume that the Arasaka sabotage team had the best inhouse DNV system that could be fitted to their suits.

It took me most of an hour to hop around our ambush zone and set my perch up behind a lunar rock slightly larger than a Basilisk tank.

From my back I unfolded a thermal blanket and laid it down onto the regolith, which would at least isolate me from the extremely cold surface in the same way my boots did, letting me go prone. I unhooked the sniper from my back and with quick movements, loaded it and settled in behind the scope.

A quick scan from right to left and back again confirmed my field of fire and Johnny’s position.

“In position and ready,” I reported to him.

“Same. How long do you think?”

“Given when they left and we left, eight hours at most.”

Gakulu had intel assets on the ground, which had confirmed the sabotage teams had left the Arasaka outpost in the Sea of Clouds. There were no further details beyond that, which was singularly annoying but which I could understand. Anything that could fly under Arasaka’s watchful radar, would by nature be clandestine and very limited due to risk of discovery.

We settled in and waited.

One hour, nothing, only a still lunar landscape that hadn’t been disturbed for hundreds of thousands of years, not since the asteroid which had made that huge nearby crater had hit.

By the second hour, I began to feel the first temptation to retreat into my datafortress, but easily resisted. Stakeouts, ambushes and waiting for the target of a gig to show was old hat to me at this point.

“Hate this part.”

Johnny’s voice practically exploded into my ears after so long of just hearing my own breathing. 

“Yes, it sucks Johnny. Nothing we can do about it. Surely you’ve been on a gig like this during your Rockerboy merc days in the ‘20s.”

“Sure, loads. Usually my partner or someone in the team at least filled the silence.”

I sighed wearily, at least I could shut him up this time. “What exactly could we really talk about, Johnny? Nothing needs to be said at the moment.”

“Wrong. Still need to kick you in the ass for fucking it up with Judy.”

“Nothing you can say about that, that I haven’t kicked my own ass for, Johnny. Yes, I could’ve done things differently. I could’ve let her in more, explained more, but then she would’ve been privy to shit that would bring her on NUSA’s radar. I also don’t need to explain why I couldn’t tell her I was working on a way to save my life all this time.”

“Bullshit, you’re telling me you don’t have a surveillance safe room in that mansion of yours?”

“Of course I do, Judy is many things, but she doesn’t have a poker face. She was under just as much surveillance as I was from many interested parties. The deception had to be as real as possible. Even with that, do you know how many times I had to fight off a variety of corpo ‘runners and hired freelancers in cyberspace from fucking up her day-to-day life?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Twenty-three, most of which were Arasaka middle management gonks who were trying their luck, NetWatch made a few plays too, but they quickly got the message when I fried the brains of the fourth runner.”

At this point I’d probably Blackwalled, fried or knocked out NC’s entire branch of NetWatch active duty personnel at some point. There had been times where I was very tempted to do a repeat of Arasaka Tower on those assholes, but the local director had quickly thrown up the proverbial white flag and declared an informal truce.

“All that effort then and you’re still letting her go?” 

“Yes,” I said flatly. “You of all people know that there are no happy endings in NC or this world.”

“What do you think I’m going to do first thing, when I get back to NC?” he said pointedly.

“Rogue.”

“Precisely, so fuck history, fuck NC, get your ass on a shuttle for Oregon and do whatever it takes to get her back.”

Oh goodness, it was so tempting and if anyone could see the problem and truly understand it, it was Johnny Silverhand. However, I just couldn’t, I had too much potentially lethal baggage that could come to haunt me and her.

“Sorry Jo- wait, heads up, got movement and thermal spike.”

“I see it.”

Hopping into distant view, roughly nine kilometers away, was eleven vac suited forms, with two blobs of trailing heat that was probably the Arasaka equivalent of a RALF.

“Fuck, V, is it my imagination or is the gonk, fourth from the left, wearing a fuck huge linear frame?”

I quickly refreshed my digital night vision and the algorithms straightened themselves out to show that Johnny was correct.

It looked quite odd to see an LF in the lunar environment, given how it also had to hop. Unlike the blocky utilitarian Militech civilian and military frames that were common around NC, these were three meters tall, sleek and armored. It was also entirely enclosed and given the space available, the only way to fit a human inside was if he was literally implanted into it, minus the arms and legs. The user literally became one with the machine.

It was clearly the evolved version of the LF that David Martinez had been tricked into testing, but everything had indicated that the weapons division had abandoned that project as being unfeasible.

I scowled inwardly, of course it had been a lie. Just as the FIA had lied about behavioral faceplate tech being a ‘failure’. Compartmentalization and deceiving your opponents, since it was inevitable that there could be moles and leaks from within Arasaka. It was in the standard Counter-Intel playbook that I had lived and breathed for years.

My attention split between meatspace and my datafortress.

I hovered over the data pool and with gestures brought up every spec of data I had on all Arasaka LFs, the experimental version that Martinez used and began inferring what it would take to bring one up to lunar specification and solve the not so small issue of massive cyberpsychosis risk to the user. Most worrying was the grav field generators the thing could use offensively and which it depended on for proper locomotion on Earth. On Luna, that was mostly solved because it now only weighed 136 kg.

A military grade Omega LF could let the user project up to 800 kg of force in various ways; lifting, bending, breaking and punching. Scaling that to lunar grav variables meant a strength multiplier that would generally translate to 3000. The weaponry it could pack with that allowance would be something to behold.

“V, this is supposed to be a deniable stealth sabotage team, not a fucking assault group.”

“I know. More than likely we’re looking at their escorts. They definitely anticipated someone trying to crash the party.”

I felt the small bubble of approaching cyberspace that represented the group’s network streaming between them. A quick passive scan found the open ports that allowed data to flow between their individual firewalls and I could immediately tell one more thing.

“There’s a runner among them as well.”

“V…” Johnny’s tone told me he was an inch from calling an abort.

“We can do this.”

“With an LF of unknown capability on the field, we’d be perfectly justified in telling Gakulu to shove it, V.”

And this was why I liked working alone.

My stealth daemon sneaked through in between the millisecond gaps between data packets and the enemy network unfolded before me.

“Butcher, you take the runner on my mark. Johnny, work your way left to right, I’ll take care of the LF.”

“Fuck V, fine,” groused the former Rockerboy.

The enemy advanced, tufts of regolith kicked up and bounced away from each landing.  

My focus fell on the Linear Frame and it naturally had the strongest firewalls and an onboard non-sentient AI, but was far from the sophistication of a Soulkiller derived variant. It was limited to real-time tactical analysis and terrain mapping only and would play no part in a cyberspace battle - the team relying on their runner for that.

I focused on the firewall and while it would’ve taken me months to parse and solve in the past, now the data structure unfolded and instead of finding an unyielding wall, it was remarkably porous from my point of view. My ‘hand’ caressed up and down, left, right, forward and back, then in dimensions that would’ve been incomprehensible to my meatmind self just a few weeks ago.

I practically ghosted through the firewall like it wasn’t even there and the pilot of the frame entered my view.

Sure enough, he had been integrated into the thing. It was a young man with features that seemed Japanese at first glance, but a closer look made me think he was Korean, especially around the eyes and jawline. Above each shoulder within the enclosed cockpit of the frame, was a system designed to inject a new baloperidol variant I hadn’t seen before. So that at least explained how they managed the cyberpsychosis risk.

I forcibly put out of my mind his apparent youth, the glassy dark eyes that still somehow shone with determination. In this business, it was best not to let things get… personal. His age, his name, his circumstances, it had to be irrelevant. He was just a weapon being wielded by Arasaka, molded from a young age just like Goro had been.  

“Butcher, do it.”

I felt my AI partner’s tentacles rip into the small realm of enemy cyberspace.

My programs shorted the baloperidol system into uselessness even as I went hot and rammed through a System Collapse on the pilot and a Takeover Hack on the LF.

Butcher had caught the netrunner mid-hop, causing him to stumble and crash face first into the regolith, before he began grotesquely twitching as he was mind harvested. The sickly red distortions of the AI child of the Blackwall unfolded in my vision.

Simultaneously, a tungsten AP round from Johnny’s railgun sniper went through the thinner neck armor of his target and finished its journey by burying itself into the shoulder of the next Arasaka goon.

My Takeover hack finished its work and with flex of will, its systems yielded and overlaid on my digital form.

I twisted the upper high caliber auto railgun mounted on the upper left hand arm and let out a brief burst that utterly tore apart my first target - the Arasaka officer who was in charge of this group.

The large spray of blood became a frozen crystalline wave instantly and made me wish my DNV system wasn’t quite so good, given what else became flash frozen.

My own sniper thumped into my shoulder as I sent an AP round downrange, straight into the elite on the far right of their formation.

The round pierced through the front of the neck, just missed the frontal chest plate, continued on and made a mess of the throat. He instinctively grabbed at his neck in shock. I knew Arasaka void suits had an internal smart sealant that reacted and could seal up minor breaches. He wouldn’t die from exposure to vacuum, but he’d suffocate all the same.

Our opening gambit had resulted in four dead and the LF under my control.

The seven remaining black ops blurred and scattered as they actually used a Sandy on the lunar surface. 

It was a desperation move, inspired by sheer necessity at being caught in the ambush with absolutely no cover.

Regolith dust clouds exploded upward from their feet as they streaked through the vacuum in a fairly randomized starburst. It was a good idea to divide our aim and try to get out of the enfilade, but physics quickly caught up with them and taught them the hard way why Sandy movement wasn’t recommended on Luna.

One Arasaka goon lost balance completely when his feet touched the regolith again, unable to find any traction to stop his momentum, he went ass over teakettle and bounced up off the regolith again, kicking up another cloud. 

However, these were Arasaka elites and all of them had triangulated where Johnny and I were.

Even as they flew and in some cases flailed through the vacuum, their own SMGs and assault railguns came around to send timed retaliatory fire back at us.

My own reflexes were already on overclock and I was behind my cover. 

A number of rounds buried themselves into the boulder, the thump of which I could feel through my body and the rest passed through the empty space where I had been, eventually hitting other boulders behind me.

This should be interesting, I thought with a savage grin as I spooled up the LFs grav field.

Two of the elites actually managed a decent landing, usinf their suit’s thrusters to reorientate and slow down enough to use hands and feet to dig into the regolith.

They barely had a moment to savor their success when I dropped a circular, targeted 80G field on them.

The loose regolith instantly compacted and crushed down, the effect on the elites was akin to a giant stepping on an egg, the spreading yolk of which was instantly frozen a few milliseconds later.

I too had little chance to savor my new toy as I was bombarded with error messages from the LF.

‘Great, burned out both grav generators.’ Not surprising given how new and relatively fragile the tech was.

I locked onto the four remaining elites, who were only just recovering from their tumbling encounters with the lunar regolith.

The LF had four arms, each with a high caliber auto-railgun, which spoke into the lunar void with tungsten rounds, each barrel glowing with blue discharge arcs.

Most of the rounds overpenetrated and kicked up more regolith dust, but mere moments later, the last members of the sabotage team crumpled to the surface, dead.

A quick check on the pilot of the LF, showed the System Collapse had done its job thoroughly.

I had chosen it initially because any lethal quickhack had a significant chance of outright disabling the LF.

“Johnny, status?” I asked, uploading a Synapse Burnout, flatlining the pilot.

“Lost my sniper and got some shrapnel lodged in my helmet, already patched up.”

“There, see? Nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, well, didn’t think that Frame would have such pathetic ICE. Could’ve been a nasty AI in there, V.”

“I’ll give ya that,” I admitted, letting go of the Takeover hack. The LF slowly fell into an ungainly heap of artificial, armored limbs.

I carefully got onto my knees, doing a final scan of the area before standing up fully and surveying the carnage of the ambush point. The one thing that our training shards and this had shown us about combat on the lunar surface, was that invariably, the one who fired first won. The sheer hostile environment, the lack of traction and inability to move at Sandevistan speeds with combat effectiveness all contributed to it. You could absorb and tank some fire if it hit your body, but generally any suit breach that made it through your armor plate meant game over for most.

“All right Johnny, break cover, let’s go on some intel scavenging.”

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For the next twenty minutes we went about the grim task of inspecting the remains and pilfering any intact memory shards or drives. Mostly, because that was what any Militech black ops would do.

Most of the stuff would probably end up useless as any Arasaka elite would have counter-intel protocols that wiped data the moment they detected their user flatlining.  

We loaded up everything in our harnesses and when that was full, we used RALFs storage compartments.

Our hike to return to our rover had barely started when we spotted a Veil drone shadowing us again. Just peeking its head over a nearby crater wall.

“Think we’re going to be in for an ambush of our own,” Johnny commented grimly.

“All our gear and the rover is highrider, the fact that we’re not openly showing tribal markings should tell them we’re part of Gakulu’s black ops.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“The one thing that will give us away though is our build, not tall or slender enough, which translates to our movement.”

“Fuck, hadn’t thought of that.”

“If we get ambushed, use Sandy, just drop to the ground and shoot. Butcher and I’ll handle the rest.”

Our journey continued, the forward hopping becoming more fluid and second nature. Our route back was eminently predictable, so we began a zig-zag pattern, scooting west around certain craters or landmarks where we had gone the other side beforehand. I kept myself busy in my datafortress, surveying the route ahead and trying to put myself in the Veil’s shoes of where the best intercept points were. It was when we were just half-an-hour from the rover that we finally reached a point where there was no going around, a crater that would take more than a day’s hopping to circle.

“If it’s going to be anywhere, it’ll either be here or at our rover.”

Johnny used his next hop to bring his right hand to his waist and unlatched his pistol.

How the Eclipse did it, I dearly wanted to know.

On our left was a mild hill that only had an eleven degree gradient, on our right, the edge of a kilometers wide crater.

From that hill, in an explosive burst of regolith, seven vac suited highriders popped out like jack-in-the-boxes and the heat sigs of seven more popped their heads and weapons over the lip of the crater.

They had timed it perfectly to emerge when we were halfway through a hop, without our feet on the ground and no possibility of traction on regolith.

Sometimes, I hate it when I’m right.

“Not another hop, Earthers!”

The cold angry voice broke through on the common emergency frequency.

Our Sandy’s were already active and under cyberspace time-dilation within our datafortresses, Johnny appeared above my datapool.

“Well, at least they didn’t shoot first. Now the question is, should we?”

With a few gestures I brought hires closeups of the imagery our NVDs had rendered. Just how these highriders had hidden their heat sigs or so perfectly blended themselves into the lunar regolith was a question I dearly wanted an answer to but couldn’t afford the time to really speculate.

“If this was any other place, I’d hack and shoot first, ask questions later.” These highriders were wearing a material that flowed over their suits, almost like a poncho which our NVDs were struggling to resolve properly for some reason.

“Can you even hack them?”

An understandable concern, given the propensity for minimal cyberware amongst those who lived beyond Earth’s magnetosphere. I threw out the smallest of pings against all the highriders surrounding us. The results were not encouraging, all of them at least had interface neuralware, but beyond that it was a coin toss. A Short Circuit couldn’t do its job if the target didn’t have some form of onboard power capacity or generation, Contagion was a similar story - no cyberware, you couldn’t induce a toxicity reaction by attacking the insulation. The only attack options I’d have would be the Synapse Burnout and Blackwall to their skull sponges, Short Circuit and Overheat applied to their suits - all of which would be lethal in this environment.

The only option to go non-lethal here would be my version of the Weapon Glitch, suitably downgraded to just fuse the railgun coils into uselessness and not detonate the entire thing in their hands, which could be potentially lethal via suit breaches.

I decided to ghost breach through their firewalls and successfully seeded the Glitch in every gun our opponents had on them. That would at least take ranged weapons out of the equation, but if these highriders didn’t have a blade on them, I’d eat my cyberdeck.

Devolving this to a melee encounter on the regolith surface was not a good idea.

“All right, let’s see how the dice rolls.”

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A/N: It was rather fascinating to imagine/research the problems you face in combat on the lunar surface, then apply it to the setting. Hope you enjoyed chooms and stay awesome.

The Force Wills - Chapter 131

The walk down the Skyfang’s ramp back into the oppressive jungle atmosphere felt like I was walking into a plasma oven. Infinitely worse was the sea of grim expectant faces of the Onderon rebels that awaited my word.

I met Anakin and Obi-Wan’s eyes, their eyes telling me that they had already sensed the story, then looked at Saw, Lux and Steela standing prominently at the front of the small crowd of rebels.

“Three are stable, the remaining two… I could only ease their passing.”

Two more for the butcher’s bill, making the final tally at thirteen dead from the battle. The wounded I had mostly already dealt with according to triage protocols.

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” said Saw, staring at me hard for a moment, then turned around to his brothers and sisters in arms. “Who will come with me to carry them out?”

Almost everyone wanted to volunteer, but Saw only picked three who walked with him into the Skyfang to fetch the two I had been unable to save.

I took a step but had to stop when the world decided to start spinning.

Anakin was there immediately, grabbing me around the shoulders, keeping me upright. “Thanks for being a battery,” I said wryly. I’d have already passed out after seeing to the healing of so many. Then having to do emergency surgery on three patients simultaneously using my hands and the Force. Yet for all my herculean efforts to fight against death, it still took its due. I struggled to not feel the utter failure that pressed down on my shoulders. 

“Commander…”   

When did I close my eyes?

I forced them open to look at Steela’s teary eyed visage and Lux’s astonished face. 

“Sorry, couldn’t do more,” I mumbled.

“No,” she shook her head. “You’re the sole reason we aren’t carrying a lot more of our fellow rebels on their backs…”

I nodded, “Just doing my duty. Skyguy, I’m about to pass out. Short of the caravan coming under attack…”

“Relax, Snip-”

I was pulled into the sweet unthinking oblivion of rest before he could even finish.

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Anakin grunted with effort as he picked up his unconscious padawan and tried to settle her comfortably in his arms. It wasn’t easy and he could only thank the Force that she wasn’t in her armor at the moment, having taken it off to perform the field surgeries in the tiny sickbay of the Skyfang. She was now wearing a white isolation suit typically used by healers when sterile disinfectant fields were not available. 

“M8!”

Seeing Ahsoka’s armor walking around without her in it was naturally quite startling to a number of rebels. Lux gaped at seeing the beskar’gam walking down the ramp with the helmet carried under its arm.

“Oh no, has the mistress exhausted herself again?” said M8.

“Hours of non-stop healing and surgeries will do that. I need you to guard her as the caravan moves. We’ve lingered too long and the Skyfang needs to get airborne to cloak properly.”

“Of course, General Skywalker. She’ll be safest inside me.”

“While true M8, she needs stability and proper sleep at the moment.”

“We’ll make a space for her on one of the caravan sleds,” Lux said firmly. “You’ll also find no shortage of volunteers for her guard, General.”

It swiftly became almost everyone’s priority to organize and barely a few minutes later, she was ensconced in a comfortable makeshift bed in the center sled of the caravan, with M8 and a dozen rebel volunteers standing guard, quite a few of whom were only on their feet thanks to her.

The thirteen who had died, were wrapped in spare blankets and carefully laid on another sled near the rear of the column.

“What will you do with them?” Anakin asked of Saw, watching as the Skyfang shimmered into cloak and shot back up into the sky.

“By rights they should be taken to Iziz and buried with full honor,” Saw grumbled. “Yet we can’t carry them forever, this heat will bloat the bodies quickly and the smell will attract predators for many kilometers.”

“We will move with speed for at least a few hours, then bury them in the most beautiful place we can find,” Steela declared.

Saw didn’t like it but necessity was clearly the deciding factor here. “Very well, we’ll move thirty clicks north-east to the Calriss Falls. No better place. We’ll record the exact coordinates and they can be reburied according to the families’ wishes in Iziz after the war is over or as part of a state funeral.”

Steel and Lux nodded.

“Everyone! Move out!”

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The Callriss Falls turned out to be a breathtaking waterfall for a major river at least seven hundred meters wide, that plunged over the edge of a three hundred meter drop. The rumble and hiss at the receiving pool where the river continued thundered through the air, clouds of thin mist rolled away from it and reflected an amazing rainbow from the overhead sunlight.

The graves were dug a fair distance away within the tree line. With every rebel pitching in, it was accomplished rather quickly. The fallen were interred without much in the way of ceremony, each rebel paying their respects in their own fashion or giving personal prayers.

Anakin and Obi-Wan found Saw and Lux Bonteri standing over the mound of a smaller grave, its presence marked with an assemblage of rocks as the headstone, with the name ‘Kael Draven’ scrawled on it with ink.

“You have an extraordinary apprentice, General Skywalker, I hope you realize that,” said Saw, dropping a small exotic flower on the grave.

“I do,” Anakin said intently. “She is not an official Jedi Healer, but she did train as one for a time.”

“We can only thank the Force that her path brought her here.”

“We came to tell you that we detect no active pursuit,” Obi-Wan said, wrenching the topic to matters at hand. “The droids sent reinforcements to the ruins, took their scans and began salvage operations. They did send out a wave of probe droids in search, but all were recalled when they reached a 30 kilometer search radius.”

“Strange, you’d almost think that they didn’t want to find us,” Lux scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“No, this is Rash, playing the long game,” Saw kicked his foot against the soil in agitation. “He now knows what we can do. That we’ve grown strong enough to defeat three full droid companies with armor support.”

“What do you wish to do?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I wish to kick Rash off his throne to face Onderonian Royal justice, throw most of his cronies in jail and for those that presided over the work camps to face the death penalty. We can do last night again for as long as we have rebels, but it won’t make a difference in the long run.”

Lux nodded, “We need to go to Iziz, go on a careful recruitment spree. If we can get some of the Onderonian military on our side…”

Saw scoffed, “Those generals you’re hoping to recruit didn’t lift a finger when the Separatist droids came along. They all stood and watched as King Dendup was usurped.”

“Can you blame them? Rash had enough war droids on his side to make any resistance foolhardy at the time. Most of them also didn’t know who they could trust. Rash had sowed enough doubt that they couldn't be certain who in the military would back them.”

Obi-Wan caressed his beard thoughtfully, “Perhaps all this time under Rash’s rule has let them see who is truly loyal and who isn’t.”

“Maybe, but it’s clear that to make the sacrifice of the Thirteen mean something, we must take the fight to the city. We recruit, we organize, we strike and then blend back into the population. We show Rash that we can hit him where he is most powerful and that he can longer sleep securely in the palace,” Lux hit his fist into his hand for emphasis.

“Then there is the small matter of how you get over three hundred rebels into Iziz,” said Obi-Wan wryly.

Saw stared into the rolling mists of the waterfall, “Those who are still lightly wounded will remain nearby in the jungle along with half our number. We shouldn’t infiltrate everyone into the city. If we fail or are captured, then at least the rebellion can live on beyond us,”

“As for infiltration,” Lux smiled. “We can, with a small amount of effort, disguise a number of our repulsor sleds as a farmer’s caravan, bringing some produce into the city. The droid bioscanners at the gate can be fooled if we harvest enough drip larva.”

“While I don’t doubt your resourcefulness, I think that we have a more sure way to fool those scanners.”

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I blinked awake blearily, feeling the sled under me moving, yet ensconced very comfortably in a veritable cocoon of blankets. Above me the late afternoon sun was barely visible as the jungle canopy rolled on by my vision.

“Have a nice nap, Snips?”

Anakin poked his head into my field of view with a teasing smirk on his face. He was completely out of his armor, wearing a yellow and brown tunic and pants that I recognized from our clothing requisitions to match Onderonian civilian styles. It was also somewhat stained and my nose didn’t appreciate the smell coming from him and the general area. A wriggle in the blankets and patting myself down also told me I had been redressed into the conservative top with hip flares and thick long pants, which passed for general female fashion on this planet. A quick pulse with the Force let me locate M8 via the Darksaber. My armor was hidden amongst the supplies of the sled right behind me and covered with boxes and a heavy brown tarp.  

It also let me sense that our scan jackers were active, hiding the many lifesigns of the rebels that had hidden themselves in the column of repulsor sleds.

“Yes, it was refreshing,” I let out a huge yawn, sitting up and emerging from the blankets, stretching out stiff arms and legs. “Two questions, was it you who dressed me? And what is that smell?”

He chuckled, “Yes, it was me and as for the smell, that is freshly harvested dripdrinker larva. A local protein that is in quite high demand for use in many local cuisine. We’re posing as harvesters and hunters coming back, a cover for our infiltration of Iziz.”

A quick look around found only a handful of rebels actually walking along the caravan in escort positions, also dressed in stained and worn civilian gear. Their rifles hooked onto the sides of the sleds, ready to defend from an attack of wildlife. Those closest to my repulsor sled nodded to me with an eager happiness, restraining their impulse to cheer at my recovery.

Beyond that, we were on an actual gravel road carved out of the jungle and even further I could see it transitioning into a modern duracrete surface, where it became a massive wide bridge and a towering wall stretched far out of sight to in both left and right directions.

We were just under a kilometer from Iziz.

“Looks like I woke up just in time.” The massive concentration of life in the Force that shone brilliantly from the city was probably what had done it. “So, we’re trying to ignite the rebellion in the city?”

“They’re trying to ignite the rebellion,” Anakin stressed, giving Obi-Wan a wry look - who was seated on the repulsor sled behind mine. “We’re just advisors, after all.”

“Of course,” I said dryly, patting myself down further and pleased to find my WESTAR in its concealed holster on my back. “Well, thanks for looking after me, Skyguy.”

I stood and took a nimble leap forward to the next repulsor sled, where Lux and Steela were seated together trying their utmost to be as close as possible, yet not give the impression that there was a burgeoning romance there. It was both hilarious and cute. They were truly only deceiving themselves in the end and almost every rebel knew these two were an item, but were pretending not to. It went some way to explain why I sensed a lingering anger and annoyance from Saw towards Lux.

The protectiveness of a brother, protecting a sister from the interloper boyfriend. Yet knowing that the sister didn’t need the protection and wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Ah, Co- Ahsoka,” Lux quickly corrected. “Good to see you recovered.”

I took a seat on the far end of the forward bench from where Lux had the reins of the dalgo pulling the sled.

Both he and Steela were wearing headscarves and breathing filter masks. Ostensibly to hide their identity from casual recognition.

“Will that be enough?” I gestured to their faces.

“I know the procedures the droids at the gate use. There’s too much traffic in and out for detailed ID checks. The most they do is scan for contraband and smuggling, which I’m told your scan jackers will take care of. Let me do the talking to the gate droids.”

The caravan column pulled out of the shade and onto the bridge to Iziz, the punishing sun slamming down on us.

Four AATs were parked in standby mode on either side of the bridge including a number of deployed droidekas who had their shields off to preserve battery life. We joined the queue to enter the city and my montrals began to pick up the din of a bustling Onderonian metropolis beyond the high walls. Many beasts of burden and hovertrucks were coming and going, the long line had the various drivers and merchants talking to each other as they waited their turn through the checkpoint. Wandering informal merchants also carried their wares up and down the line, hoping to score a quick sale.

It took almost fifty minutes of waiting just to cross the long bridge and finally stand in front of a small squad of B1 droids led by a B1 commander painted with a yellow stripe on its chassis. Beyond was a huge red forcefield, snapping on and off to let people and traffic through.

“Halt,” it said in the tinny nasal voice. “What were you doing outside the city?”

“Hunting,” said Lux simply. “We’ve been tracking for days.”

“Did you register before leaving?”

“No, but most of our time is spent in the jungle, collecting our traps.” Another droid began walking along the sled, holding out a hand held scanner. “We’ve come to the city to sell.” Lux held up a transparent pouch, thick with fresh squirming larva, roughly the size of my pinkie finger with a pink-green color. “You can’t find drip larva like this in Iziz. Only the biggest lakes on the other side of the continent have them.”

“Hey listen, we need to deliver this on a tight delivery schedule,” Steela explained plaintively.

“Hmmm, are you scanning anything?” the commander B1 asked its subordinate.

“Only indeterminate organic matter, sir.”

“Let them through then.”

“Roger, roger.”

The massive force field shut off and Lux slapped the reins lightly, the dalgo obediently walked forward, pulling the sled beyond the threshold and into Iziz proper.

We had entered via a south-easterly gate and the city itself sprawled before us, covering a hilly expanse that dominated all sight with tall buildings that ranged from modern durasteel affairs you’d expect in a core world, to tall traditional buildings made out of laser cut stone with prominent arches and columns on their exterior. Everything had a distinct romanesque flavor to the architecture, but with ‘alien’ influences in the layout and spacing between buildings, allowing the huge domesticated fambaa beasts to easily move through the streets with enough space to not let pedestrians get trampled underfoot.

The general usage of speeders was also quite limited, with the locals preferring to use dalgos, the flying rupees and their own legs. It was rather astonishing because the city was easily measured at under 1600 square kilometers.

“The people of Iziz will always try to get a home within a thirty minute walk of their place of work,” Lux explained when I asked about it. “If that isn’t possible, then a flying rupee makes commuting very quick.” He pointed up at a sky that had the domesticated rupees flying in loose air lanes similar to Coruscant. “Those with actual speeders are usually those in the more modern upper class, new wealth. Whilst the older generations swear by the use of rupees.”

Lux casually brough the sled to a stop, letting Obi-Wan on his own dalgo catch up, whilst Anakin brought the next sled up as well.

“That was the easy part,” Anakin said casually, using the Force to spirit his voice across the din of the busy street intersection we found ourselves in. “Now the hard work begins.”

“You must find new recruits and choose your targets as we discussed,” Obi-Wan advised.

Saw arrived on his dalgo. “I’ll get our brothers where they need to go. We’ll regroup after nightfall.”

“Do be careful,” said Steela with feeling.

“I will.” He nudged his dalgo and escorted a sled towards the west.

“Snips, you’re to join Rex and Chewie, you’re going to secure a safehouse and staging area for the supplies.”

“On my way, Skyguy.”

I hopped off the sled and casually walked to the rear where the wookiee and clone captain were rather uncomfortably wedged together in the small rider’s bench of the largest sled with all our supplies and my armor hidden inside.

“Ready Ahsoka?” Chewie growled.

“Always,” I grinned, jumping to a seat behind them.

All of the sleds seemed to be splitting up and while I inwardly groaned at the cliche tactic, it at least made some sense. We had multiple objectives to achieve in the city and we couldn’t risk getting caught as a group together. That would end the mission before it even began.

Rex referenced a small datapad, “Take us through the square, west, Chewie.”

The big wookiee flicked the reins and the ponderous sled set off.

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It took most of the afternoon for us to find a suitable location for the rebel HQ.

We ended up finding it in the western part of the city, an industrial section called the Slagworks, where workers toiled in metal refineries and scrapyards.

The building itself was a six floor housing unit, nestled between a refinery and a warehouse. It was under the control of a local underworld gang called the Rust Knives, led by a sleezy twi’lek named Vren Korr.

It turned out to be a rather fortuitous contact because the Rust Knives specialized in smuggling black market tech, but they also ran extortion and underground beast-fighting rings that pitted the Onderon wildlife against each other.

“My, my, aren’t you just precious,” said Korr, standing up from his couch, whilst flanked by two big thug-like bodyguards who looked like they could easily bench press me. “What brings three off-worlders to my little neck of Iziz?”

“A lucrative business opportunity,” I said easily, meeting his green eyes without flinching. His olive skin colour dulled by spending too long indoors and long lekku wrapped around his shoulders to hang behind his back. He was only visibly armed with a long vibroblade, but I could sense a hidden blaster in the holster under his left arm, covered by the soot stained jacket he wore.

“Oh, I do love those, especially those that result in credits,” his accent was thoroughly local and he thoughtfully brought out a pipe from a pocket, lit it with a small lighter and began puffing the potent smoke into the air. A brief smell told me it was a local tobacco equivalent made from the Blue Hutt’s tongue plant that was only native to Onderon, but which also saw considerable export all over the galaxy. “So you want to ‘rent’ this location?” he gestured above us.

“My associates need a safehouse to operate from,” I explained simply, letting his own mind run with the implications.

“Hmmm,” he puffed the pipe, examining me, Chewie and Rex in turn. “Offworlders, operating out of the Slag. Could it be that you’re here to deal with the droid infestation on my dear planet?”

“You’re free to come to whatever conclusions you want, Korr,” I said genially with a smile, pulling slowly a ten thousand credit chit out and expertly twirling it through my fingers. The gang leader’s eyes widened as I casually played with enough currency to purchase a small starship. “Our associates are onderonian and need a roof over their heads as they go about their daily business. Their needs are generally met, but it’s a rather long term project they’re going to undertake. They will need supplies of all kinds; food and specialist offensive items. Items that you will be in a prime position to provide and deliver.”

“Really?” Korr narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “A brand new market to supply, for a venture that’s close to my own heart.” He began walking back and forth. “The droid infestation has been quite bad for our business. We’re having to constantly reroute to stay ahead of the ‘clankers’. It slows things down, we’ve already lost a lot of customers and while my gang is still one of the largest ones in the Slag, we’re shrinking. Droids are stupid, but can’t be bribed. We’ve lost nearly a dozen runners in the last month alone to Rash’s prisoner raids. They’re either executed in the square or they’re taken to the work camps out of the city, where I’m reliably informed they’ll be lucky to live more than a few months.”

He puffed hard on the pipe and blew out a lungful of spicy smoke into the air, where it spread out over the dull light fixture and the ceiling.

“What’s your name?”

“Dessa,” I said, using my latest cover identity. A merchant from Shilli who had come into Onderon via the spaceport. Republic Intelligence had already signalled a successful remote slice of the local records to arrange similar covers for Rex, Chewie, Anakin and Obi-Wan.

“Well, Dessa, you hand me that credit chit right now and if you and your associates begin their task within the week. Then you’ll have the full support of the Rust Knives, including this building. We can come to a formal arrangement on future details and support later, but you need to get them all out of sight and off the street. It’ll only take one droid to ruin everything.”

I flicked the chit through the air, which Korr caught easily.

“You have a deal.”

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When evening had fallen almost everyone had gathered inside the new Onderonian Liberation Headquarters.

The rebels were thankfully not the type to make a mistake twice and posted a perimeter of lookouts dressed to blend in around the place. Korr also left us with his personal comlink code and a promise to send intel and warnings should his own eyes and ears in the underworld spot something of interest to the rebels.

“Allying ourselves with criminals, Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan asked dryly as we sat down in a basement room.

It had already been organized into something of a meeting and planning room, with two dusty C shaped couches facing each other and a large board on one wall with an actual paper map of the entire city mounted on it.

“Necessity and if the Rust Knives were the likes of the Black Sun or Pykes then I’d not even have considered the building as a candidate or approach them. Korr and his gang will kill but he’s very profit driven and someone dead can’t pay. He’s scum as you’d call it, but honorable.”

“We know of him,” Steela scowled ruefully. “Never imagined I’d ever have anything to do with the Iziz underworld but if he has the supply lines ready for long term support of the rebellion, then I guess we’d be fools to turn away from it.”

“Just beware that there will be a long term cost,” Obi-Wan warned. “When the rebellion succeeds, Korr will undoubtedly expect reasonable future concessions and favors. Your king will not be in a position to really deny them.”

“That is something we will worry about then, what’s done is done,” Saw folded his arms. “What did your scouting reveal of the enemy?”

Anakin gestured to dim the lights with the Force, palmed a holocom and tapped it. A large map of the city appeared overhead, updated in real time to show the current disposition of droid forces. “This is a passive scan map from the Skyfang.”

Steela gaped at the raw numbers on display, “There has to be thousands of them.”

“13160 to be precise, which is a rather conservative deployment for the Separatists in a city occupation scenario. Most of the droid army on the planet is spread similarly to the other major cities, with the densest concentrations being around the mines. They likely consider the city pacified which is why there’s only a 379 to 1 population to droid ratio. When the rebellion begins to achieve results you can expect that number to only increase.

“70% of their forces are B1s, 15% B2s and droidekas, which are mostly concentrated around strategic points of the city, such as the fusion power plants. 120 AATs, 50 Spider droids and a mix of 200 Vulture and Hyena droids.”

“Well, it certainly puts things into perspective,” Saw said grimly, staring at the map and even he was feeling somewhat overwhelmed at the task ahead.

“We will persevere, whatever it takes,” Lux declared. “I propose we start small. We pick five random patrol routes of the enemy, say no more than a patrol of five to ten droids at most - ambush them and blend back into the city.”

“Make sure you plan both primary and secondary escape routes from each ambush point,” Rex advised.

“I also can’t help but notice,” I grinned, standing up and manipulating the holo to zoom in. “The general layout of buildings in Iziz; narrow alleyways between long rows of buildings, wide streets, the roofs are also mostly flat for the modern buildings and angular for the old.”

“Yes, but what are you getting at?” Saw asked with a frown.

“I think it’s time I introduce you to a way of quick urban movement, known as parkour.”

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Lux gasped as he ran for his life.

His time with Steela and the rebels had hardened him in many ways. He had finally lost what little childhood fat that had remained, his riding skills of rupee and dalgo began from a young age, finalized to the point where he could shoot from the back of one and reasonably expect to hit whatever he aimed at. Countless kilometers of patrols through dense jungle and cutting through it with a vibroblade had hardened his arms.

The way of parkour, as Ahsoka called it, was a whole different level of fitness and coordination.

Every obstacle in your way became just another path.

He jumped, his left foot leading and with two further strides traversed a dumpster that was in his path, before letting gravity take hold, landing and rolling to immediately come up on his feet, to keep up the sprint.

The squad of B1s pursuing him had no such agility.

“Hey come back here, rebel!” one of them shouted.

Their programming kicked in and they turned around running, linking on coms for another patrol to intercept.

He burst into the small market square and dodged around the various shoppers. His specific goal, a stall that was currently closed, loomed closer as he belted towards it.

He halted behind it and ducked from sight.

A squad of seven B1s rushed into the market, coming to a stop in the rough center, facing outward and clearly scanning for him.

His hand pulled off the droid propper from his belt.

He armed and threw in one motion.

He was now thoroughly used to its weight and how it moved through the air.

The popper bounced once off the stone tiling of the market and landed at the patrol’s feet.

A blue flash and visible electric arcs played over the surface of every droid as they twitched and babbled through their vocorders. Their internal circuitry fused, internal gyros failing before each simply collapsed to the ground.

The primary escape route was still clear and he sprinted away, even as he heard the commotion beginning from the surprised citizens at the dead droids.

In the alley, an ascension gun was waiting.

He grabbed it and aimed, sending the piton and cable streaking upward. It hit the edge of the roof four floors high.

The next moment, he was pressing on the trigger again.

He couldn’t help but gasp as he was pulled upward with speed.

No matter how many times they had practiced this, he’d never get used to it. He was not one to be afraid of heights. No rupee rider worth their salt worried about that, but that was with a huge flying animal underneath you. When your life depended on the small piton and its adhesion field that was no bigger than a thumb, then it was another story.

A hand came over the edge of the roof and grabbed him by the arm.

In one smooth unyielding movement of strength, Ahsoka pulled him up using not just her arm, but also the Force as well.

He felt it as an invisible, soft hand that grabbed him by the legs and lower back.

She grabbed the gun from him immediately as soon as he had his balance.    

“Run! We’re not out of the cordon yet,” she snapped.

Lux ran after her, their booted feet thumping the angled tiles of the roof.

The edge approached like their doom, yet she wasn’t slowing down and neither could he.

Beyond was a two meter gap to the next roof.

He pushed off as hard as he could into the jump.

Naturally, she made it easily.

Lux felt his knees take the landing shock and he obeyed the training, flowing into a roll, before coming up, sparing himself the potential injury.

Another run of twenty meters across the roof, before the next jump.

The six meter wide gap yawned into view and Lux felt his heart trying to jump into his throat.

Ahsoka grabbed him by the waist and then they were practically flying forward off the edge in a stupendous jump.

He could barely keep the wits to stick the landing and keep running.

Mercifully, that had been the last one, and she aimed the ascension gun for the rapidly approaching roof edge and fired.

She grabbed him again and they dropped through the gap of two buildings into the alley, letting the unwinding gun modulate and control their fall.

“Take a moment, regain your breath, we have to blend in now.”

He leaned on his knees and just focused on sucking in air and spitting out lactic acid laden saliva.

It felt like an eternity before he could say he wouldn’t pass out from standing up, but eventually he got his wind back.

“Quite good, considering your circumstances,” Ahsoka said, handing him a small water bottle.

He greedily gulped some of it. “Can’t c- c- compare to you…”

“Don’t try,” she said immediately, her gaze distant. “We can take another two minutes, we’ll then be within a gap in the patrols.”

“How’s the others doing?”

She palmed a comlink, activated it and closed her eyes.

“Saw and his team have ambushed a number of B1 patrols checking citizen IDs, they’ve exfiltrated and are heading back to HQ. Steela and her team have destroyed three Spider droids and disabled a laser net gate, they are still engaged as I speak. Chewie and Rex… have just destroyed the AAT repair yard in the north of the city, they’re escaping now and there’s no pursuit evident. Team four has also sabotaged the Vulture droid fuel supply and is in a fighting retreat. They should be able to withdraw at their current rate.”

Lux nodded with relief even as he continued to be amazed that a Jedi could have such an ability; to literally see through the low frequency comlinks that didn’t even need to transmit data.

“Good news then. No injuries or anyone captured.”

“For the moment. Savor these early victories, Lux.” She shut down the link and stared at him somberly. “It will not be easy to replicate them as our enemy learns. A difficult road is ahead and you will have to make equally difficult choices. Come, the coast is clear.”

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“A week!”

King Sanjay Rash flung the crystal glass in anger against the floor, surging out of his throne. Not caring at all that the glass was easily worth enough to feed a modest family for an entire year, nor that the wine within was the rarest fifty year old vintage from an ancient Onderon winemaker family that charged similarly per bottle.

“A week of attacks by these terrorists and not only haven’t they been caught, they have only gotten bolder by the day!”

Rash started pacing in front of the throne, the dark leather frills of his resplendent ceremonial armor, adorned with plated auridium patterns by the finest armorsmiths of Onderon, rattled with every impatient step. His stern, sharp face was twisted into a perpetual sneer and he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“It is indeed vexing, my lord,” said Okalin, Sash’s bivall advisor with perfect neutrality on his features. Something his species was naturally good at due to the crested head that lacked the minor muscular controls in the faces that most races evolved with. Only their stalked forward facing eyes and voice let bivall express their internal feelings and it was much easier to learn control of that. They were naturally more intelligent than the median baseline in the galaxy, almost standing alongside the kaminoans, as such they were favored for scientific positions and political advisors. “I have spoken with the tactical droids and they suggest that you order a thirty percent increase in droid forces within the city.”

Sash scoffed and laughed mockingly, “Oh yes, such vaunted military advice. The best that money can buy and be programmed into a tin can. Something a first year academy student at Carida could tell you!”

“I share your disdain for the relative intelligence of those droids, my lord,” Okalin twitched his eyestalks in the proscribed motion to indicate his feelings on the matter. “However, it will make things more difficult for the rebels to operate-”

“They are not rebels! They are terrorists, Okalin.”

“Apologies my lord. The terrorists would have less room to maneuver among the population.” 

Rash took a deep breath, visibly composing himself back into the charismatic demeanour that he strove to always maintain, except for the rare moments when privacy was assured. Okalin was his closest advisor, a known quantity among the Royal court and the aristocracy. The bivall had proven his loyalty to the Rash family beyond question for decades.

“Ah, but what message would that send, not only to the terrorists, but to the nobles as well?”

“I see, it would show that you are concerned, my lord.”

“Precisely. And from there it is but one step further for them to think I fear these terrorists. That they are worthy of it. No, they will be hunted down like the criminals they are and executed in the public square. If the amazing CIS droid army can’t do it with thirteen divisions, then what makes them think it can be done with fifteen? This requires a more surgical approach than a blunt hammer of force. Bring me Dendup.” 

“At once, my lord.”

Okalin bowed and left the throne room.

Rash approached the throne itself and picked up the datapad containing the detailed analysis reports from each attack site.

He walked out onto the expansive balcony. The vast splendour and magnificence of Iziz stretched out like a beautiful carpet before him, almost all the way to the horizon. The eastern defensive wall was just barely in view. It was so easy to be entranced by it but he focused on the datapad.

Every report said the same thing.

The terrorists were using old weapons, but the tibanna ammunition, the modulation of the plasma - specifically optimized for killing power against droids.

The spent remains of Merr-Sonn EMP grenades at most of the sites, ‘droid poppers’. The primary weapon used by the Grand Army of the Republic and their clone soldiers against their opposing enemy. A weapon meant to equalize the sheer numerical disparity.

Merr-Sonn was undoubtedly making millions of the devices per month and shipping them all over the galaxy. It was inevitable that piracy and smuggling would see the weapons flood the black market as well. That ripple had apparently reached Onderon’s criminal underbelly and now these terrorists were using them. It seemed no matter how hard the control was on what could enter and exit the planet’s atmosphere and what could pass through the defense grid, the criminal scum would find ways to bribe, subvert and corrupt.

Then a single visual scan from where the terrorists had been camping.

It was rather blurry as it was the moment when the probe droid had died from a blaster shot that had partially obscured the visual sensor.

The tac droids had concluded a 40% chance that the figure in the shot was a Mandalorian.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered. The Mandalorians had thrown in their lot with the Republic. Yes, there were still renegades out in the galaxy who plied the mercenary trade in their ancient customs, but they charged a premium for their services. There was no way this degenerate rabble had the resources or the money to hire a Mandalorian commando.   

The doors to the throne room opened and Okalin returned… alone.

“Where is Dendup?” he snapped.

“He is just outside, my lord,” Okalin replied quickly. “I have brought some additional news that should not be for the former king’s ears.”

“Get on with it then,” Rash folded his hands behind his back, internally bracing himself.

“It seems the Royal Carriage was ambushed as it left your formal residence.”

Rash hated that he still felt the most minor ebbs of fear in his heart. “An attempt on my life then?”

“It appears that way.”

He strode with perfect composure back into the throne room and took his rightful seat, using every inch of training and charisma to beat away and bury the fear. His auridium wreath, nestled in his dark brown hair with just enough sprinkled gray to hint at the appearance of wisdom, glinted just so in the overhead lighting. This was only amplified by the gilded decoration on the high backed throne itself.

“Get my predecessor in here,” he commanded.

Okalin bowed and it wasn’t long until four royal guardsmen in dark armor, armed with long force pikes and blasters on their hips preceded the escort force that surrounded Dendup himself. In addition, four commando droids followed, taking up the rear.

Rash could barely stop himself from openly scowling at the old man with contempt, the old fool who had squandered Onderon’s potential for so long.

Dendup was wearing the ornate white, yet simple attire of a palace servant. A blatant rebuke of his former lofty status. Rash remembered so well giving that order, “If he wants to prattle about being a servant of the people so much, then he can be one!”

There was little about the former king’s confinement that was actually showing on him. He had lost a bit of weight, his tanned features sagging slightly as was only natural when being reduced to a conventional diet. The old man’s shoulders of bowed defeat were the only sign of his stay in the Royal dungeons. As much as Rash wished to do more, he had an aristocracy to keep in check and if he showed what he was willing to do to a former king, then they would begin to rebel - thinking in fear that one day they might meet a similar fate.

As a result, Dendup was also kept perfectly groomed, ready to be trotted out at a moment’s notice. His long white beard kept in that perfect triangular shape.

Those light blue defeated eyes stared up at Rash and he smiled slightly, taking a moment to savor the small victory, before grabbing a fruit from a nearby tray and biting into it.

He took his time, eating a mouthful of the succulent fruity flesh and savoring each chew, letting the uncomfortable moment extend as long as possible.

Finally, he put down the pit remains into the tray and met Dendup’s gaze, the old man clearly unimpressed.

“You surprise me. Engaging with extremists is beneath you. Do you really want your crown back that badly?”

Dendup sighed, his voice hoarse from disuse, “I have only ever wanted freedom for my people. Freedom from the corrupt Republic and the other forces that would see it taken from them. Yet it seems you have turned the promise of the CIS on its head, for your own selfish gain of course.”

Rash ignored the prattling. “Your supporters are responsible for terrorist acts against the kingdom and our allies.”

“I didn’t know that. You’ve made it quite impossible to stay informed on anything outside my prison chamber.”

The political theatre needed to continue, however. “Call off the attacks,” he said powerfully, using every iota of charisma he had.

“I cannot call off what I did not dictate,” Dendup almost laughed, clearly getting an idea of what scheme Rash was trying. “What you are up against is simply a reaction to your no doubt, short-sighted brutalist policies in trying to maintain control - the will of the people manifested. It’s up to the king to embrace, bend or break… and I am no longer the king, Rash. You are.”

“Stop the attacks, Dendup or you will atone with your life.”

“It is you who must stop the attacks, by ending the droid occupation.”

Rash stood and glared fiercely down at his predecessor, “There is no ‘occupation’. The CIS are rightfully supporting the security of a member world, which just so happens to be behind enemy lines. At any moment, the Republic could fill our skies with their ships and while they will take losses from the defense grid, they will land and destroy everything, including the vaunted ‘freedom’ you hold so dear.”

Dendup shook his head, “Rash, I’m old and only getting older. I’ll not entertain this pointless war of words with you. Do what you set out to do before you even heard a word from me.”

Rash smirked, narrowing his eyes in triumph.  

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The ‘Rebel Council’ sat down in the meeting room.

Calling it that was slightly overstating things, as it was very informal and it comprised three Jedi, Rex, Chewbacca, Saw, Lux and Steela. The rest of the room was packed with every rebel who could fit around the two couches, whilst a short range comlink patched the meeting to every minor holoterminal that the HQ building had, so everyone could watch.

“A week of operations, all mostly successful, with only a few having to be called off and no casualties or anyone captured,” Anakin announced with a smile. “Such success will not go unnoticed.”

A muted cheer echoed through the room and throughout the building. Whilst it would sound merely like a large party from the outside, every practical operational security that could be sustainably managed had been trained by the rebels, with Anakin and I doing most of that teaching in the evenings.

“Remain mindful of public perception,” Obi-Wan warned. “What was your observation, padawan?”

“Largely what was expected, they fear the disruption to their new order. In only a handful of cases did I sense that the citizens supported the destruction of the droids. I subtly questioned a fair number and if anything most of them support the level of overt crime reduction that came with the presence of armed droids everywhere.”

“Indeed, that’s why I’m afraid they will mistake the rebellion’s intentions.”

“We need to achieve more, a few broken down or destroyed droids mean nothing in themselves.”

“The people need to believe that we can succeed, in the end. Hearts and minds, as you said,” Steela nodded.

“We need to assure them of our intentions,” Lux affirmed.

I met Saw’s eyes at this point knowingly. “Yes, it’s quite critical. One wrong step and instead of being seen as liberators, we’ll be seen as terrorists, assassins and criminals.”

Saw frowned, his eyes quickly twitching away and he kept an acceptable poker face, but one which was useless against me or any Jedi for that matter. 

“We need their trust, the question is just how to practically get it,” Steela mused.

“You’ll have plenty of time to earn their trust in the coming months. All of you are going to be very busy,” Anakin smiled knowingly at the rebels surrounding the couches.

“In the meantime, make the most of your victories, take each day as they come and learn from them,” Obi-Wan advised. 

Lux was thoughtful as he asked, “What if we hit something… big or significant? It’ll be a show of strength and overcome their fear, leading them to join us.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, seeing the obvious probability line crystalize.

“We attack the very lifeblood that a droid requires - power.”

“A tried and true strategy that the 501st has done on dozens of worlds,” Rex nodded with approval.

“On war torn worlds, with scattered and fleeing civilian populations,” I pointed out, giving the clone captain a side-eye. “Iziz is currently a peaceful city, barring our activities. We take out a power station or the grid in general, we’ll also be indirectly attacking hospitals with patients who would die from the interruption.”

“All our hospitals have independent power generators, not reliant on the grid,” Lux argued. “It was one of the reforms King Dendup pushed through early in his reign.”

“All right, think this through then. We disable the grid, the droids are unable to get power from their normal sources. They will know, just as you do, that the hospitals have those generators. It is then the next logical place for them to get it. All you’ve done is force them to militarize your hospitals and give the people a very long blackout where their homes will be very uncomfortable places in the heat and the majority of their appliances stop working.”

“Yes, which I’m sure the people of Iziz will thank you greatly for,” Obi-Wan said wryly. “You see, it’s not easy to predict the consequences of your actions, doubly so when you intend to win people over to your side.”

Saw slapped his own thigh in annoyance, “We need to do something to shake them out of this complacency.”

Lux stared at me then shook his head, “The power plant idea was all I had and I don’t see any other way, commander. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Firstly, stop trying to only treat the symptom of the problem. Even if the droid army on the entire planet was to malfunction tomorrow, you’d still have Rash on the throne with his hand on the controls of the orbital grid and the Royal guard forces.”

“So we target Rash himself,” Saw said, staring meaningfully at me.

“The time for that has not yet arrived,” I gave him a light glare. “Rash is a despot, but he’s no fool. He’s spent his time in power well. Many of the people have come to view him as a much more effective and decisive king than Dendup was. There are droids in the streets and executions in the square for criminals. On the surface, Iziz has never been more peaceful or crime free.”

“That’s not a true peace, it’s peace from the barrel of a blaster,” Lux scowled. I dearly wanted to point out that peace was only truly ensured from any person or polity’s readiness to engage in bloody war and it was that sort of pacifist thinking that had been a prime contributor to the current state of the galaxy.   

“Which is the one chink in Rash’s armor,” Obi-Wan explained. “Are you going somewhere with this, padawan?”

“Yes, I suggest a two-fold strategy. First, the rebellion must give Rash something loud and flashy to focus his attention. We continue to attack droid positions and patrols at random, sabotaging their operations. While behind the scenes, we undermine the pillars he stands on - the aristocracy and the generals of the Royal Guard. Flip enough of them to your side and Rash will find himself with no support when the time of reckoning comes. We must also be prepared to intervene in the Royal square at all times. If we drive him into a corner, we will not like how will come out swinging.”

Steela frowned, “But how would…” Her eyes widened as she made the connection. “No! He can’t do that!”

“If we’re too successful, he will,” I said with finality.

Saw made a grunt of frustration, “While I like the general idea, you’ve lost me. What will he do?”

I nodded for Steela to answer.

She was extremely reluctant, as if afraid that merely saying it would let it come true, “If we push too far, he’ll execute King Dendup.”

The sounds of dismay and anger at the notion echoed throughout the building.

“That won’t happen, I won’t allow it,” Saw said, gritting his teeth, his eyes practically shooting blaster bolts in anger.

“Commander Tano has proposed a viable plan in my eyes,” Obi-Wan declared. “It has the greatest chance to affect the change you seek and mostly avoids the possibility for civilians to be caught in the crossfire or be affected negatively. Speaking on behalf of the Jedi Council, such a plan will also stand the greatest chance of keeping the supplies and credits flowing from the Republic. Naturally, the specifics will be up to you.”

Lux and Steela looked at each other and eventually nodded. All eyes turned to Saw, who was still on something of a simmering boil in his anger.

“Fine,” he said eventually, folding his arms and staring at the floor.

“Then it’s agreed,” said Anakin, as we stood from the couch as a group. “Commander Tano will remain with you as advisor and liaison, until she’s relieved by another or King Dendup regains the throne. Understand that even if all that happens, you will still have the fight of a generation on your hands, as the Separatists will not go willingly.”

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“Think they’re ready to give the 501st some competition?” Anakin asked Rex teasingly.

We had gathered in our own little meeting room, which was a currently disused common kitchen that lacked any food supplies - a fact that would have to change soon. Everyone had so far been subsisting on the field rations that Lux had originally brought with him when he had joined up, which was fast nearing depletion at this point.

“Let’s not get carried away, general,” Rex actually made a half-smile at the notion. “Though the tenacity of these rebels have impressed me.”

“I would fight alongside them any day,” Chewie growl-grunted. His entire bearing one of approval for the rebels he had fought beside for the last week.

“We will leave via the Skyfang and report back to the Council. Are there any concerns you wish to raise about your assignment, Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan asked.

“None specifically, though do please remember to send it back. M8 can take over from R2. My beskar’gam is too distinctive to wear it in the open here anyway.”

“And this time, I will stay with you,” Chewie growled insistently.

“No objections from me on this one, my friend,” I patted his big arm. “There’s no one better to watch my back anyway in this place.”

“Which you’ll need, of all the rebels, I don’t like this Saw Gerrera.”

“He will be a problem to keep on target,” I nodded. “His sloppy attack on Rash’s royal speeder has only served to put fear into the usurper’s heart. He did it on his own volition without consulting either Steela or Lux.”

“Yet you did nothing to stop it or call him out on it in the meeting,” Obi-Wan folded his arms into his robe sleeves, giving me a knowing look

“That fear will grow into something useful and like it or not, Saw does represent the most militant members of the rebels. It would not be wise to undermine him in their eyes.”

“Very well, keep on going and monitor them. Report back on their progress every week to the Council and I’m sure your master would appreciate a daily report.”

“He would,” Anakin confirmed and put a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re more than ready for this, but are you sure?”

“My path is here for now, master,” I nodded. Naturally, I had more plans in the works with the relative freedom this assignment offered.

“All goes well, we will continue to provide supplies and credits with cloaked airdrops, but they must learn to operate on their own. Their long term survival depends on it,” Obi-Wan bowed to me before exiting the room.  

“Yes, master.” 

“Remember your purpose, Snips. Force be with you.”

“And you, Skyguy.”

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A/N: Blame the medium and main target audience, but it's almost painful to see the canon guerilla campaign against the droids in Iziz by Steela, Saw and Ahsoka. Beginning with the obvious flaw of Lux's initial plan, pointed out by her here.

Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend. Stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 130

The journey to the rebel encampment took just under three hours and traced a winding route through the dense jungle that Steela had no problems navigating by memory alone.

The six other rebels with us also had their own dalgos but most actually preferred to walk next to the domesticated predators, rather than ride them. It spoke of not just good ‘horsemanship’ but also experience, sparing the creature’s endurance for when it was truly needed - such as escaping a droid patrol.

Steela’s route had also cut through a few streams and over old wooden bridges. The last man in the column also had the job of policing any signs of our passage in the terrain.

Finally, just as the sun was rising, she halted the column briefly, scanning the jungle ahead for something.

She was seemingly satisfied and gestured for us to continue.

We broke through the dense jungle to a deserted ruin that was overgrown with thicket and plant life that was slowly growing on the bones of the old structure.

It had been the beginning of a new town, but had for one reason or the other, failed to prosper and suffered abandonment. The only buildings left standing to provide some shelter was a town hall, missing any windows and surrounding it was a large paved square with tall entrance arches overgrown with jungle plants. Nesting on the roof of the hall was a number of rupings; a winged reptilian species that was also domesticated and large enough to serve as flying mounts for the onderonians.

Between the dalgo and rupings, it gave the rebels excellent options for mobility and lightning quick hit-and-run attacks.

The rebels themselves were sprinkled here and there around the structure in groups of four or five, all going about the early morning routines of breaking their fast, cleaning themselves with nothing more than water and some hand cloths, checking and cleaning weapons or just sitting around, chatting and waiting. Their gear was generally new, but the rugged environment was already taking a toll on them.

“A bit rough around the edges, wouldn’t you say?” Obi-Wan said dryly.

“That’s why I brought, Rex,” Anakin titled his head towards the clone captain.

“They’re not exactly what I would call ‘shinies’, but I can work with them, sir.”

“And you brought Chewie because wookiees are the best jungle fighters in the galaxy,” I pointed out.

‘These onderonians know a thing or two already, I already spotted a number of traps we were led through, but I’m sure there’s room for improvement,’ Chewie rumbled.

We passed through the overgrown arch and had to stop when a ruping took the sky with a rider and landed in front of us.

The rider dismounted and hugged Steela briefly before taking off a leathery helmet with a face shield.

“General Skywalker,” greeted Saw Gerrera with a nod.

“At your service,” Anakin removed his helmet and bowed slightly. “This is General Kenobi, Commander Tano, Sergeant Chewbacca and finally Captain Rex.”

“We’re looking forward to your help in taking the fight to those scrapping droids,” he said eagerly.

“All in good time,” Obi-Wan qualified.

“Good to see you all in person.”

Steela gave Saw a good natured elbow into the ribs, “You’ll have to excuse my brother, he fashions himself our leader, though no one elected him.”

“And just how have you been handling that?” I asked curiously.

“Mostly as a collective between myself, Saw and Lux,” Steela explained. “Everyone here looks to us three and we’ve so far been managing attacks in the jungle on the droid patrols with some success. However, it's only pinpricks against the enemy and we always retreat in the face of heavy units or tanks.”

“That’s what we’re here to change. Consider yourselves temporarily deputized members of the Grand Army while we’re here. We have much to teach you,” Anakin declared.

“When do we begin?”

“Immediately, after your morning tasks are done, I want everyone in this camp together for a briefing.”

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The meeting was held inside the hall and revealed the primary reason why the rebels had chosen this location. It still held some working Holonet communication infrastructure inside, which had been brought back online by field repairs and a working portable microfusion generator. It was all currently off to prevent risk of detection from any sensor sweeps.

In the final tally, there were 331 rebels gathered in the structure to listen to our presentation, which was held near the sole working holonet console at the front of the hall.

Anakin raised his hands, flexing the Force across the assembled mass of men, women and two dozen onderonian twi’leki.

The low din of excited conversation slowly stopped as Anakin pulled all their attention in.

“Welcome all of you, to the GAR. We’re here today to begin a series of training exercises that will finally bridge the gap that exists between you and the Separatist droids. The first and most obvious point is that they always have strength in numbers. That is something that we’ve faced since the beginning of the war in space and on planetary battlefields.  We’re going to show you how to take advantage of that and destroy them.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward, “To be clear, we’re not here to fight your battles for you. Just show you how to conduct it in the most efficient and successful way possible. Captain Rex?”

The clone, who was wearing jungle camouflage black market armor giving him the look of a bounty hunter, nodded, “You’ll all be divided into twelve man squads. Each squad will then rotate through a specific training evolution with me, Sergeant Chewbacca, Commander Tano, Generals Kenobi and Skywalker. First, I’ll need volunteers to carry combat supplies that have been air dropped half a click west of this location.”

Fifty eager hands were raised into the air.

“Excellent. With those supplies, we’ll begin to show you how the 501st destroys clankers. In addition, Sergeant Chewbacca will be running a training evolution on how his people conduct warfare in dense jungle conditions. The wookiees live on a planet that makes Onderon seem like an open air field. You’d be wise to listen to his advice. Those volunteers, please meet me outside once this briefing is concluded.”

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I didn’t expect to be a teacher again so soon in this life, but here I was, standing outside under a blazing sun in humidity just over 90% and thanking the fact that the beskar’gam was rated to keep its user comfortable in any environment the galaxy could throw at it.

The first training evolution we conducted was done with a dozen of the portable training cubes taken straight from the Resolute’s arena, which Anakin had modified based on Obi-Wan’s experiences on Serenno. These were improved to have independent power sources and could operate outside and work as an interconnected cluster.

I tapped the control on my vambrace and the training cubes rose off the ground forming two curved platforms in mid air, before a high fidelity hologram emerged around it. Creating a life sized rendition of the Separatist AAT.

My first twelve trainees looked suitably awed and impressed with the tech.

“The B1 pilot in the front hatch controls the tank, the shells and short range blasters in the flanks,” I said, pointing to the areas in question. “The commander in the top hatch controls the turret and the main cannon. Both need to be taken out or else the tank will remain operational. Either B1 droid can fully control the tank from each station. This is a measure of redundancy that all Separatist equipment will have.”

I took a few steps back and held up two droid poppers in my hands. “This is the Merr-Sonn 3 electromagnetic pulse grenade or as the GAR prefers to call them, ‘droid poppers’, or EMP grenade. Take your pick. You arm the device by pushing and holding the top button firmly for two seconds. You then have five seconds to throw or drop it before it will detonate and release the EM pulse. It also has an adjustable timer for shorter or longer durations depending on the situation. It will either disable or permanently fry a droid’s circuits. Understand also that in the latter mode it will fry your nerves, should you be caught in the radius.”

Using sheer physical speed I rushed at the holographic tank, running up the side, sticking a popper against the simulated front hatch, then vaulted and ran up the side with a bit of athletic parkour, and dropped the second popper onto the upper hatch.

A final backwards flip had me landing beside the simulated tank and running away.

“Another feature of the popper is that it can adhere to any surface once you engage the small green button to the side of the main arming mechanism. It will give you two seconds before it activates that function. Be careful that you keep your hand on the non-stick side of the grenade as you don’t want the popper adhering to your own hand.”

Lux Bonteri raised his hand slowly. “Commander, will the grenade be enough to affect the tank even through the armor?”

“As long as you place it near the hatches, where the armor is naturally the thinnest, yes. The ideal will be for you to throw a popper into the open commander’s hatch. In other words, getting close enough to catch them by surprise. A B1 tank commander will always try to keep that hatch open as long as possible. The exterior sensors of an AAT, while functional, are naturally limited with all the armor getting in the way. We will also be teaching you where those points are located, as accurate blaster shots to those areas will blind the tank crew enough that will force them to at least open the upper hatch.

“Now, I want you to divide yourselves into teams of two. Each of you will be getting one demo model droid popper. It will simulate the real thing as closely as possible. One of you will attack the lower hatch, whilst the other climbs for the top hatch. Once you master that, we will simulate doing the same thing for a tank that is moving. Once that evolution is complete, I will act as a B1 commander droid in the top hatch and shoot at you with the droid standard E5 blaster rifle - relax, it will only fire stun shots. Only when you master that, will I consider you sufficiently trained to take on an AAT in an asymmetric warfare setting. Now, divide up.”   

The first attempts that followed were naturally a minor disaster.

Lux and another twi’lek rebel were first, but both mistimed and fumbled the use of the popper’s adhesion - ending up quite literally attached to the simulated tank as both grenades went off.

“Congratulations, at least you took out the tank,” I said wryly with folded arms. “However, you both might as well be dead with fried nerve systems or stopped hearts. Try again.”

They did so, however, the twi’lek rebel ended up spraining an ankle when he jumped off the top of the tank and failed to properly roll with the landing.

I drew my WESTAR in a flash and started shooting at their feet, chasing after them, pushing on their psyche’s with the Force. “RUN! RUN!”

The poor twi’lek and Lux did so, frightened briefly out of their wits.

The former did his best, hobbling but managing to get a decent speed.

When both were at the back of the line, I relented.

I strode up back to the front. They couldn’t see my face behind the Mando helmet, but everyone perceived my glare.  “Do you think the clankers will just let you run away on your own time!? No, they will throw everything they have at you. When you attack an AAT, you must already have your escape route planned. You must become like ghosts! Also when in full hover, the highest point of the AAT is nine meters high. An improper jump from that height can kill you! The cubes beneath the holo are imitating the general upper surface. Slide down the front if you can’t do a proper break-fall. Next!”

So it continued, the next bunch managed to not screw up with placing the popper and the rebel attacking the upper part of the tank even showed a proper break-fall technique.

The two rebels even looked very satisfied with themselves, sauntering off.

Right until my WESTAR delivered two stun bolts modulated to only deliver pain into their buttocks.

“Congratulations, you’re both dead,” I said flatly, looming over both rebels, who were miserably groaning on the ground. “Next!”

The next two duos did well and even remembered to run as my WESTAR shot at their heels.

The last of the group tried to do a break-fall from the top of the tank, but fudged it completely by not tucking in their chin during the roll portion of the maneuver.

The entire class of rebels winced as the man practically drove his skull into the ground. The only thing saving him from very serious injury was the soft jungle soil. He did end up with a nasty cut that sent blood streaming down his face.

“Easy, easy, I’ve got you,” I muttered, helping the dizzy rebel to his feet. A quick application of the Force as I held his hands stopped the bleeding and I slapped a bacta patch onto the cut. “Have a seat and observe only. No more training. Understood?”

“Yes, commander,” the man said, feeling rather stupid and embarrassed.

“All right, what did that teach you?” I asked the group.

There was only silence for a few moments as everyone looked at each other, hoping that someone else would answer.

“Accidents happen?” Lux finally said.

“On the right track, anyone else?”

“We must be ready for the unexpected,” said the injured twi’lek, now seated and wincing as he massaged his ankle.

“Precisely,” I nodded and approached him, placing a hand on his ankle. Ligament strain was always a tricky thing to soothe and heal. He breathed a sigh of relief as the aching pain faded and looked in astonishment as he experienced a Jedi healing ability first-hand. “No strenuous activity for at least eight hours. You can watch and learn for the rest of this evolution. Understood?”

“Yes, commander.”

“Good, now, as for the rest of you who aren’t injured, we’re going to move onto the next portion. The tank will be moving. Remember, never charge the front of an AAT. The B1 manning the blasters will cheer as you up its kill count. Wait until it passes you.”

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It was close to sundown when every rebel had at least gone through the AAT evolutions with middling to satisfactory performance. I also had my hands full attending to the minor injuries sustained from those jumping from the top of the tank. Thankfully, no one had been inept or unlucky enough to actually die from the fall.

Everyone got busy with food prep and a belated late lunch. The rebels were clearly experienced with food shortages and no one had complained when the training evolutions continued through traditional eating times.

Anakin gathered everyone to a new training area that Chewie and Rex had set up.

Three reprogrammed droidekas were sitting in their roller forms to the side of the main square, painted with red slashes to visibly indicate they were non-hostile.

“Droidekas are quick, pack twin blasters and come with their own shield generators. Only certain specialized shoulder launched missiles and mounted cannons can pierce it. They do have two weaknesses and you will have to work together to exploit them,” Anakin explained.

Rex tapped a control on his own vambrace, causing one of the droidekas to jump into life, standing on its stubby feet and surrounding itself with the shield, resonating a transparent blue in the local atmosphere.

“The shields deflect any high velocity attacks.”

Rex shot at the droid with his blaster pistol, careful to use an angle that would send the deflected bolt off into the sky.

“What the shields don’t stop are slow or stationary objects. They’re designed to absorb them, so nothing hinders their movement, including the air.” He nodded to me.

I unlatched a popper from my belt, armed it and casually threw it with a mild underhanded motion.

It bounced once, before beginning to roll and simply phased through the shield before the mild EM charge released, just enough to merely shut down the droideka.

“On their own, droideka are blind from behind. Actively give it a target to shoot as a distraction, then throw your popper from behind,” I explained. “The problem is to get the right speed on the popper. In mid-battle, feeling anxious and fearful, you will struggle to moderate the strength of your throw. For this evolution, we will not be simulating that, but come tomorrow these droids will be shooting stun shots at you if you fail. The crate full of poppers is over there, each take one and try to simply roll it into the shield, we’ll do this three at a time.”

Rex activated all three droidekas, directing them to stand next to each other, whilst the rebels came up in turn and tried their hand at droid popper bowling.

First up was Saw and two others.

All three tossed the popper underhand and ended up overcooking their throws, bouncing off the shields.

In the next group was Lux, who managed to be the first to moderate his throw for a smooth shield penetration.

“Good, the rest of you, slower,” I instructed, feeling the immediate bloom of simmering frustration from Saw. He was glaring blaster bolts at Lux’s back for some reason.

Steela and a female twi’lek rebel were next up and both managed to roll their poppers through the shield, whilst the third rebel failed.

It became something of a contest after that, as the sun dipped below the jungle horizon, plunging the encampment into streaks of darkness with a burnt orange sky overhead. We began taking turns to oversee the training evolution and when night had fallen I found a spot on the town hall roof for some solitude.

The rebels at least knew of light discipline and didn’t use traditional fires. Instead using low- signature plasma torches that were partially buried in sand to radiate warmth.

I folded my legs and began a meditation to the sound of merry frustration and triumph echoing through the camp as the rebels continued their game of popper bowling.

The entire scene would’ve been a pleasant evening as stars came into view overhead and the sounds of thousands of kinds of local fauna filled the air. The vibrant multitude of colours of flora snaking over the structures and the hall, lit only with the dulled hues from the plasma fires. The nearby brightly colored ruping were snoozing in their perches on the roof.

“M8, take a visual snapshot please.”

‘Done, mistress, it’s a pretty sight to the optical receptors.’

It was a pity I wouldn’t be able to enjoy more than forty minutes of meditation, as sure enough, I was soon joined by another who used the vines to climb to my position.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wake the ruping, commander,” said Saw Gerrera softly. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, and I know my way around most animals,” I said, keeping my voice low.

He sat a few feet away, dangling his legs off the edge of the roof. “Do you?”

“Let’s just call it a Jedi thing and leave it at that.” I could probably fire my WESTAR into the air and the ruping wouldn’t flinch if I had their simple minds dominated via the Force. I wasn’t as good as Anakin with Animal Control, but I could get by.

“So… I can’t help but notice you’re keeping your helmet on all day. Is that a Jedi thing too?”

“No, that’s Mandalorian. In hostile territory there is no thing such as safety, therefore the helmet stays on, even in sleep. There are Mandalorian clans which take it to even further extremes, believing that you can’t remove the helmet in front of outsiders. They believe that keeping the helmet on preserves their identity, honor and connection to the Way of Mandalore.”

“And is your clan one of those?”

“There was a time when we were,” I answered, reaching up and twisting the helmet to break the seals and lifting it off to place it down next to me. I straightened my lekku into a natural position and scratched an itch on a montral, pretending not to notice Saw’s fascinated and appreciative look as he saw my face for the first time.

“Doesn’t it get uncomfortable keeping your lekku cooped up in that?”

“The helmet caters for it and I’m used to it. So what brings you to me, Saw Gererra?”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Just, uh, wanted to know if you have any advice for throwing those poppers properly.”

The lie was very blatant, but I chose to let it go, recalling every time I had seen him throw.

“Your right arm is too stiff on the follow through, you tense your muscles unnecessarily. When you throw, the energy must come from your legs, flow up through the body and transfer to the arm, which does the technique and actual aiming.”

“Ah, I see, well then I have a slight problem then.”

“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.

“Let’s just say that at the beginning of this war, I was taken prisoner. Then taken to work at a rhydonium mine about a few days' journey from Iziz. There were no droids or beasts, just men. Made to work under this hot blistering sun and jungle, barely given enough food to avoid starvation. The old died first, just dropped where they stood. Rash’s men let the jungle predators feast. There’d be nothing left the next day but a bone or two. Under those conditions, our clothes didn’t last long either, so soon enough we laboring in only our skin. They didn’t bother bringing replacements. At some point, in the eighth month of that hell, the inevitable happened. A laborer died as they were handling a rhydomium pump, it broke open and spread out everywhere on everyone. Do you know what happens to skin exposed to that stuff?”

I could sense Saw was deep in memory lane, a thousand yard stare as he looked out over the camp.

“Yes, in simplified terms, it delivers a combined itchy and burning sensation. There’s also long term complications for your nerve endings.”

“Everyone ran away, but I didn’t and that had consequences.” He sighed heavily. “I can still do everything I could, but the small things, fine movements are difficult at best and utterly impossible at worst.” He stared at his own hand, the individual fingers twitching slightly, seemingly beyond his control.

Now that he was this close, it was quite easy to determine his general health through the Force.

“Would you like me to take a look at that?”

He gave me a sharp smile, “Is that why you think I came up here? That I heard talk of you using your Jedi abilities to heal some of our people and-”

“No, you don’t have the right desperation in someone who is seeking a cure to their condition. In fact, I don’t think you view it as a detriment.”

He simply nodded, “During the mining accident, where others ran or were hurt by the rhydomium… I was different. I was entranced by sensation. It was… revelation. It was like I saw everything, the multitude. How I fit in that huge picture. How small I was. How my entire world was but a tiny spark and for that brief moment…”

He trailed off, clearly unable to find the words. 

Given what I could sense, his entire system had low level rhydomium toxicity. His body was doing its best to purge it and after more than a year, things were looking quite good on that front. The problem now was that he had actually developed a bizarre mental dependency on the stuff. It wasn’t outright addiction, as I could sense that he hadn’t been exposed to it for some time. Rhydomium was too valuable and controlled on Onderon for him to easily acquire.

“I can’t render judgement on what you experienced, Saw. Perhaps in that moment, you connected to the Force consciously.” Stranger things had happened in the galaxy and perhaps he had found a bizarre shortcut that had worked just for him in that moment, achieving what the Matukai did through rigorous training and meditation. I didn’t sense the Force in him beyond the standard equilibrium level that all normal people had.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I’m actually more interested in something else at the moment.”

I didn’t need the Force to sense the double meaning and the underlying attraction he was feeling to me. Inwardly I was utterly flabbergasted, getting hit on by a young Saw Gerrera was not on my bingo card for this trip. In pure physical terms he was rather handsome with high cheekbones that could cut diamonds and solid jaw, even the small soul patch beard fit quite well with the picture. It was almost a pity that the uncompromising personality underneath and what I knew he could become soured any thought in that direction. “Go ahead.”  

“You’re a commander in a vast army. How do you do it? How do you lead and make people follow?”

I folded my arms and speared him with a look, “You’re having leadership problems among you?”

“We’re putting on a good front for your visit,” Saw revealed. “Most of the time we can barely agree on how often to run patrols or what to prepare for dinner. Lux constantly has his head in the future, thinking about all that important ‘negotiation’ he’s going to do and not thinking at all about what we need to do here and now to win. Steela is more pragmatic but she’s too cautious. She thinks of every rebel here as family and almost can’t imagine losing them. The thought that her decisions or orders would lead to their deaths is paralyzing her.” He snorted with annoyance and anger, picking up a small stone to throw into the air to express his feelings. “We’re barely worthy of the term ‘rebel’. We’ve killed maybe thirty B1 droids and a few B2s and it’s a drop in the ocean.”

“That’s unfortunately the problem when you have such a disparate group, united in a cause they agree on, but they disagree on the methods. I have it much easier than you. I command clones, Saw. Clones who are psycho-conditioned to obey my orders without question. Nevertheless, even there, I must lead by example. I could go on a whole lecture about leadership with you. I can tell you that you must be decisive even in the face of incomplete information, be honest, take responsibility for your actions, foster loyalty and morale, anticipate challenges, plan long-term operations. You must have courage, physically and morally. You must make the tough calls, when no one else wants to. You must understand and motivate your troops to build cohesion. You must be able to adapt your strategies, because your perfect plan will never survive contact with the enemy. You must master tactics, logistics and technology.”

I could see I was overwhelming him somewhat. Good, he needed the true scope of what would be truly required in the coming war for his planet.

“All of that are the details, but it must all rest on the foundation of what vision you have and what you can inspire them to strive towards. If you don’t have that, then you’ll be simply leading them into the abyss, Saw.”

My words might as well have been hammers that had struck him over the head, as he stared at me with huge blue eyes. His mind was practically screaming in turmoil as he thought of his sister and that all this could mean her death one day.

That a decision he would make would lead to her death.

“I- I will need to think about that.”

“Do so, but don’t take too long, Saw. We don’t have much time.”

“What do you mean?”

I looked off into the direction of the capital city. “How have you been avoiding probe droids?”

“We don’t settle in any one place for too long and we always keep a perimeter lookout. Steela is our best sniper and she always knocks them out, by the time they send forces to investigate the destroyed probe, we’re long gone.”

“Yet our arrival has interfered with your routine. Is there a proper perimeter around this camp at the moment?”

“Kriffing hell!” he swore, standing up.

My WESTAR was already drawn and fired a blue blast into the night.

The bolt streaked through the air to the upper edges of the jungle canopy and slammed into the probe droid I had sensed sneaking closer. It erupted into a fountain of sparks and flame, tumbling and bounced against a tree before slamming into the soft jungle earth.

He grabbed a large, old generation macrobinocular from his belt and gaped as he saw the seemingly impossible feat of marksmanship.

The entire camp was startled and reached for weapons in a rather good example of combat reflexes.

“Ahsoka! What was that?” Anakin’s voice immediately emerged from my comlink.

“Probe droid, master. Our position is compromised.”

Saw tapped his own comlink, “This is Saw, everyone gather possessions and supplies. We will evacuate now!”

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Confidence and morale among the rebels had taken an undeniable hit.

They had gathered their possessions and loaded the dalgos in mere minutes, and those with rupings took to the sky to quickly scout a route for the rebels to evacuate. The longest item to handle was to disable the repaired holonet system in such a way that it didn’t look like it was capable of interstellar comms.

Chewie and the rebel tech who had originally repaired it, managed a convincing job after just seventeen minutes.

Soon enough, the entire rebel force was assembled in a long caravan with the dalgo’s pulling repulsor sleds carrying all their supplies in addition to the weaponry and tech we had delivered.

Saw took point and led us straight north.

Every rebel had their blasters out along the flanks of the caravan and kept their eyes peeled into the jungle night.

“Wild dalgos and rupings are a danger,” he explained to Anakin. “We prefer not to travel at night for that reason, but having a droid carrier drop a company on our heads would be worse.”

Anakin’s comlink chirped.

“Yes, R2?”

“Scanners detect a launch from the capital city. Three Platoon Attack Craft are heading in your direction and a single C9979 armor carrier.”

“ETA?”

“80 minutes.”

“You’d think that they’d launch Hyena bombers or the fast B2 carrier, they’d be much faster and could’ve even caught us before we fled into the jungle,” Obi-Wan mused, scratching his beard.

“Rash wants us either alive or dead, not obliterated in an airstrike,” Saw sneered. “He wants to parade us in front of the populace as an example. We can’t do that in pieces.”

He abruptly stopped in his tracks, tugging on his dalgo to halt it. Then he stared at me with an intense gaze, before jumping on the beast’s back to get everyone’s attention.

“Everyone! Halt!”

The caravan came to a messy stop as his voice didn’t exactly carry the full length of the column.

“Saw? What are you doing?” Steela frowned, pulling on the reins of her own dalgo.

“Just… trust me, Steela,” he muttered, before shouting again. “Listen! We can do what we’ve always done when Rash finds us, but I say that changes tonight! I say we turn the table for once. We know the enemy is coming, we know where they are going first, before they fan out to search for us. We now have the means! We can ambush them!”

I saw the rebels looking at each other with uncertainty, they definitely liked the idea but…

“Are we going to stay skulking in the jungle wilds constantly? Whilst Rash sits on his stolen throne hunting us until we’re as extinct as the hragscythe! I say we stand and fight here! The line drawn in the sand. No longer are we the hunted! We are the hunter!”

It was the youngest rebel, a twi’lek who was barely out of his teens, who shouted and waved his rifle in the air, “YES!”

It was the pebble that began the rock slide and first Lux then a dozen others shouted, “YES! YES! YES!”

Soon the chant was echoing up and down the caravan.

“Realize this! We are not fighting the droids who will come! They are but puppets of our true enemy! Rash thinks he can come and take our lives, but I say NO! We will not! We will not bow or go into the void as slaves for his greed! We will fight and live as free onderonians!”

“FREE! FREE! FREE!”

“I ask you now! Who will step forward to make a stand and fight?!”

“WE WILL!”

“WHO?”

“WE WILL!”

The chanting continued and I could only smile.

‘Is this you, Snips?’ Anakin thought to me.

‘Of course not, Skyguy. You’d feel the Battle Meditation. No, this is just a right word in the right ear at the right time.’

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Damn scope is acting up again, she thought in annoyance.

Steela scowled as she fiddled with the knob to trigger a reset in the small visual computer. A second later the image flickered to life again and presented her the best image of their former encampment, now turned into an ambush and killing field for the enemy.

She was perched in the tallest tree nearly four hundred meters from the edge of the ruins, obscured by as much foliage as possible, with her body lying remarkably in comfort within a sling hung from the upper boughs. It was woven and tied by the wookiee, Sergeant Chewbacca, in barely a few minutes after he had climbed the tree with the same ease a human would walk.

The scope computer re-acquired its rangefinding again as she scanned her firing sightline. Another check of the power pack told her she had twenty full power shots and three more packs in her bandoleer.

The blaster rifle was old.

It was old when her father had inherited it from her grandfather and now it was hers. That didn’t mean it was useless. The old Merr-Sonn rifle was meant to take out the large predatory fauna of Onderon. Her grandfather even had taken out a hragscythe with it during the Great Culling which saw the massive three headed beasts that were the scourge of Onderon, finally brought under control.

It would now be used to cull an entirely different infestation on her homeworld.

Her scope’s night vision abruptly blinked out and she was left staring only at darkness.

“Kriffing gutkurr,” she swore, tapping the small control panel on the side to reset it again. With only the weak reflected light from the moon of Dagri overhead, it would make a fight in the night more difficult.

The scope switched on and full functionality returned for once, it even remembered the range data.

“You need to relax,” said Commander Tano softly.

The togruta Jedi had perched herself with ease between two rising branches of the tree, pushing against one with her feet and braced her back against the other branch.

“How am I supposed to do that with my brother and… everyone about to gamble our lives, the future of my planet on this pointless ambush. We destroy these droids and it’ll achieve what exactly?”

She did not want to think about Lux at the moment.

He is many things, he has learned so much out here, but a true soldier, he isn’t.

Tano remained silent for a few moments, just staring out into the darkness, the intimidating visor of her helmet glinting in Dagri’s light.

Does that thing have night vision as well? She wondered.

“You are building an army that has a long road ahead of it, Steela. The people that are a part of it need a true victory. They need to actually see and experience what they can achieve together. Yes, it’s likely that some will die soon. There is nothing you can do about it. That is the nature of war, which you have no choice but to accept.”

Steela felt her teeth grinding as she suppressed the instinctive anger that those words elicited. Yet they rang as an uncompromising truth into her skull.

She hated that Tano was right. Why couldn’t there be another way?

Her mind was going in circles, wrestling with the question when she felt the Jedi’s gloved hand patting her on the shoulder. “They’re coming.”

What? She thought frantically. Already?

A glance at the tiny chronometer readout in the scope told her that she had completely lost track of time, so absorbed had she become by her inner struggles.

She banished them as firmly as possible and glared into the scope, scanning right to left, then back again along the treeline to the north-west.

“Look further up,” advised the Jedi.

She did so and saw the looming forms of three PACs coming to a stop just one hundred meters from the ruin, hovering over the jungle canopy. The industrial unarmored cradles holding 112 B1 droids in storage, towed behind a heavy duty speeder with two B1 pilots standing at the open cockpit.

That they sent these felt like an insult in itself. As if they didn’t even need to worry about the rebels being able to attack the unarmored PACs before they could deploy.

Looming further in the background the blade-like double hull of the larger droid carrier came to a hover, before landing into the jungle with its giant foot shaped landing strut crashing through the trees contemptuously, where it would open and disgorge the heavier AATs and B2s.

The PACs unfolded, the rear sled parting and twenty four large mechanical arms folded out and let go of their already activated B1 cargo.

In moments, 336 B1s were already in formation and marching towards the ruin.

Tano shook her head, “They deployed only one AAT and a dozen B2s from the carrier.”

Steela squinted and couldn’t imagine how Tano would’ve seen that. “What? You want them to throw more at us?”

“No, it merely shows us how Rash views you at the moment, if he was even involved in the command process.”

“You think he wasn’t?” she asked incredulously.

“These droids are clearly acting on old information. They don’t know that Jedi or Republic advisors are here. Rash could’ve given the order to sweep the jungles for rebels and dissidents to the droids weeks ago and they’re simply carrying out that directive.”

The heavy thumping of hundreds of combined metallic footsteps reached her ears and the first line of B1 droids breached the tree line to march into the open area of the ruin.

By sheer instinct, Steela drew a bead on the first one she spotted, settling the reticle directly on the sloped head of the B1.

“Wait for the flare,” Tano warned.

Steela gritted her teeth, holding her fire as the second line of droids marched into view, then the third, fourth, fifth.

Kriff, Saw, shoot the flare already, she cursed internally.

“Aim at 320 degrees,” Tano advised next.

Steela sighed and adjusted her aim accordingly.

Every B1 was out in the open and here she was aiming at nothing but another part of the treeline.

Then the first B2 emerged directly under her reticle!

The blue flare shot into the sky… fired by Captain Rex at Saw’s command.

Steela aimed slightly up, ignoring the cacophony of blaster fire that erupted from the rebel’s concealed and staggered positions all around the clearing. Precisely laid out by General Skywalker to give everyone a clear sightline with no chance of friendly fire.

Her finger squeezed the trigger.

The old rifle roared as it sent the orange plasma bolt downrange, the slight recoil easily compensated.

The B2 was nailed in its left shoulder, burning through the small sensor channel that was the only weakness in the frontal armor of the walking tank.

The B1 droids returned fire even as over seventy or more were hit and collapsed to the stone floor of the ruin.

“Next target, 293 degrees.”

Steela shifted her aim and sure enough found another B2 there.

Her second shot for the night missed by two centimeters low, leaving only a scorched and pitted crater in the armor.

Her memory brought back her grandfather’s words. ‘Relax your muscles, Steela. Leave the anger at missing behind you. Breath out and squeeze.’

She breathed and squeezed the trigger.

The bolt streaked across the night and hit, sending her second B2 to the ground.

She spotted the next target, but this B2 was already raising its left arm and the night flashed as it sent a rocket into the air.

Steela flinched away from her scope, frantically scanning as the guided rocket bloomed its light straight towards their position.

There was barely enough time to think of jumping out of her perch, but the rocket twisted suddenly in mid-air, going off course and shot straight up before detonating in a large orange flower of fire that illuminated the clearing.

“Target at 288,” Tano said calmly, her words somehow punching through the storm of blaster fire.

Steela struggled to calm down, her heart thundering in her throat as she addressed her scope properly again and sent a shot directly into the rocket launcher arm of the B2-HA that had nearly killed them.

It both ruined the launcher and the fresh rocket inside the barrel was set off.

Her scope’s auto-dim feature saved her eyes from the bright glare of the explosion which ripped the B2 apart and utterly scrapped six nearby B1s.

“Nice shot. Next target, 243.”

She aimed further left, found the left shoulder… squeezed the trigger.

The B2 took another step before falling over.

The call came over the radio, “Poppers out!”

Two dozen of the EM grenades lobbed out of the tree line, cast into the air by those rebels with the best technique and throwing arms.

Multiple bright actinic flashes heralded their detonation among the tightly packed formation of B1s.

Visible arcs played over their chassis as B1s twitched in a macabre dance before collapsing to the ground with fried circuitry, opening huge gaps in the formation.

Yet they continued to return fire into the tree line with undaunted mechanical will.

“Targets at 213, 217 and 222, kill the PACs, they’re in retreat.”

Steela shifted her aim, the scope alighting on the sloped head of the PAC B1 pilot, trying to turn the ungainly thing around.

Her rifle spoke once, knocking the head clean off the droid. The PAC drifted off course, smashing into the neighboring craft.

Her rifle spoke again, and found its target.

Both PACs lost altitude and slammed into a tree, crumpling the chassis completely.

Another adjustment, she squeezed the trigger.

“Good shots, all PACs are down,” commented Commander Tano, also keying her comlink to announce it on the rebel frequency.

“Sabotage team reports success. One AAT destroyed. Watch your eyes,” reported Saw.

Steela had just enough time to turn her head and close her eyes before a thunderous explosion lit up the landscape as the droid carrier erupted into a conflagration of flame.

She felt the shockwave wash over her, rattle the trees fiercely and looked just in time to see the carrier fall apart into two cracked burning halves, further rattling with smaller secondary explosions.

The fighting had only briefly paused from the rebel side, giving the remaining droids the upper hand.

Four rockets from the remaining B2-HAs streaked out towards a number of their positions.

Once again something caused them all to spin out of control and detonate harmlessly in the air.

Recognizing the threat and having only a few dozen B1s left, every rebel with a sightline started shooting at the seven remaining B2s.

Most of the fire just sparked harmlessly or slightly pitted the thick armor, but the sheer volume meant that it was inevitable that someone would get a lucky shot to the weak spot. A few rebels also started aiming for the legs or even the arms.

Steela got back to her job and turned a B2 into scrap, even as three others were mission killed or utterly disabled.

Another B2-HA blew up in spectacular fashion as a blaster shot from a rebel went straight down the barrel of its launcher arm.

She fell into a world of razor focus, there was just the next target through her scope, listening to Commander Tano’s spotting directions and pulling the trigger.

Then there were no more B2s on the field, she loaded a new power pack and dialed down the yield of her rifle, picking off the remaining B1s.

“Field’s clear, Steela, you can safe the rifle.”

She blinked, her mind struggling to comprehend the words. Where was the next target? “What?”

The Jedi patted her on the shoulder. “Easy. It’s over, Steela.”

“We won?”

“Yes, we won.”

“Oh.”

The world felt very strange, but she managed to make her hands move to shut down the rifle.

“Just take a deep breath. Easy. You’ll come back to yourself in a minute or so.”

There was only one thing she wanted to know. “Is Saw… and Lux all right? How many…”

“Your brother’s fine, as is Lux, though he’ll need some medical attention as he has a blaster wound to the leg.” Tano closed her eyes briefly. “As for how many of your people died; eleven dead and 41 wounded.”

She felt a brief relief that morphed into a low horror. 

“Come, let’s get you out of here.”

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A/N: Poor Steela, welcome to the major leagues of warfare and its associated cost. Hope you enjoy the weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 129

“Can I speak to you?”

I paused the cranking of the hydrospanner and looked down at Maul’s robed form standing next to the Omen’s wing-nacelle.

The robed zabrak was a tight bundle of determination and focus, whilst his anger was buried beneath it and below that, the ever present fear it stemmed from. Yet, the walk and being outside had done him a world of good.

I gave the spanner one last turn, chucked it to land perfectly in the tool case on the hangar floor before descending the mobile maintenance ladder.

“Let’s go inside.”

Only Skell and two other mechanics were working nearby on the Omen, whilst the others were hard at work in the fabrication bay.

I led Maul through the ship and into the cockpit, where a quick use of technometry had it powered up. A gesture and a few taps later, we were surrounded by a holographic rendering of Dathomir’s surface, as if the Omen had just landed outside the Nightsister’s mountain fortress.

Maul removed the cowl of his robe and looked around with only faint curiosity, more interested in the clear improvement in holography than what it was showing him.

I sat down in the pilot’s seat and stared directly into those bloodshot yellow eyes, seeing not just the spirit behind them but also the body in which it resided.

His health was as good as it could be, especially with proper food digesting for the first time in a decade. He could really use at least one full bacta immersion, but I doubted the lingering paranoia I sensed would tolerate the loss of control it represented.

“Ask your questions, Maul.” I gestured to the co-pilot seat.

His lips thinned in annoyance and sat down awkwardly, only to twitch as the seat smartly adjusted itself to his non-standard body structure as a result of the prosthetic. A feature I had pushed hard for at MandalMotors, since I wanted to open our market share to more than just human or adjacent species in the galaxy.  

“I want to know my fate.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that. Otherwise, I’ll say that your current fate is to die at the hands of Obi-Wan Kenobi.” His teeth ground together in anger, his eyes flaring, “It doesn’t even take prescience to know that. No matter what happens in the galaxy, whether your old master dies or when, what convictions you have or even if you choose to renounce the Dark Side completely. All that matters, to the very core of your being, which is that of a warrior, is that Obi-Wan defeated you. Eventually, by whatever winding road you take, you will once again find yourself opposite Obi-Wan with blade in hand.”

I sighed wearily, “Yet, no future is written in stone, no matter what I or any other may say. It could be that it happens twenty years from now or fifty. It all depends on you, Maul.”

“Very well,” he grumbled, visibly pulling in his own anger. “What will happen if I go to Dathomir?”

“Firstly, you will be protected from Sidious’s sight in the Force, as well as others, for long enough to learn how to evade it yourself. In addition, the time it will take will also help you to actually become a marginally well-adjusted zabrak again.”

The Force coiled and rumbled within him as the temptation to reach out and choke me bubbled up from within.

My wry expression was enough for him to realize that he would only prove my point if he tried to use the Force Choke on me.

“You will learn from Asajj Ventress to master and conquer the Dark Side within you. She has mostly done so, though she never went as deep to the point of attaining physical symptoms of the corruption.”

“Me? Learn from her?” Maul sneered.

“Don’t dismiss her so quickly. You’ve sensed her strength and she too was forcibly torn from Dathomir as a mere infant. She will tell you her story, as it is not my place. In time, should you prove yourself, you will also learn from another.”

He stared at me for a while afterward, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Maul, you know your old master. Do you think anything you can personally achieve or do in the next two years would make any difference in the fight against him? Do you think that you could train in seclusion, march out with lightsaber in hand and fight him in his Chancellor’s office on Coruscant? Even if you manage to strike him down, his mind and spirit will just retreat to a waiting clone and all you’ve done is driven him into the shadows from where he’ll retaliate in a manner you can’t prepare for or even conceive.”

Maul’s eyes widened as I casually revealed one of his master’s trump cards. One which even he didn’t know about. He wanted to deny it as utter nonsense at first, but his own education under Sidious in the ancient Sith and their capabilities told of their spirits lingering beyond death at their ancient shrines of power. If there was one Sith who could finally harness that beyond becoming a mere dangerous specter to haunt one part of creation for all eternity, then it would be his master.

“He- he can do that?”

“Yes, and enact a number of contingencies that would see disaster unfold in the galaxy. Naturally, you don’t care about that, but you will when the first targeted plagues begin appearing.” Those were nasty probability lines to explore and it showed what Sidious was fully capable of in the arts of Sith Alchemy. He’d sow misery and death, whilst in the same breath distributing the cure to any planet that yielded to the yoke of the CIS. “There will be no hiding and the uncertainty of whether to risk exposure to a planet or not, will keep you in space, isolated, on the run, until you’re hunted down by either the Jedi or the Inquisitorius. The former will want you simply because of your knowledge of Sidious and the latter because your master doesn't want that knowledge to fall into their hands.”

Maul’s hands clenched hard and he dearly wanted to vent that anger somewhere. “It is pointless then.”

“Hardly,” I disagreed. “I’ve said to you before and I’ll reiterate it. There is a counter-conspiracy growing against Sidious in the shadows. Some know of him, others don’t, it’s merely enough that they know they fight against corruption in either the Republic or the CIS. The best way you can fight your master now, is to live and become a zabrak again. Learn, read, find a hobby, heck, perhaps a Nightsister might even claim you to continue your lineage. Don’t look at me like that, Talzin fixed that. In other words, do everything that Sidious had denied you growing up. Oh and spread your knowledge to either me, Talzin or Ventress.”

Maul sneered, looking actually astonished at my words and shook his head, “Don’t be ridiculous, Jedi. You want me… to become… normal?”

“What is normal?” I countered pointedly. “No, I doubt you could ever be a normal sentient. It’s impossible for most Force Sensitives. The Force meddles into our lives too much and we perceive too much beyond what the average sentient does. As for your knowledge, well, why would you keep it? Loyalty to Sidious?”

“Of course not, but if-”

“You don’t have to tell us everything,” I interrupted him with an exasperated roll of the eyes. “Your learned paranoia wants you to keep that as bargaining chips, to keep your value to us. You fear that if we learn it all from you, that you’ll be discarded or at least marginalized in the fight.”

“And is that fear irrelevant?”

“Maul, you are an assassin and warrior. The fight against your master will definitely need those talents of yours.”

He blinked and I inwardly laughed at the expression that I managed to elicit with those words.

“You… a Jedi, want me to kill and assassinate those who work for Sidious?”

I nodded, “At a certain time and place, yes. I already have a loyal assassin droid working in the conspiracy, but it would certainly help to have an extra hand in that department.”

Maul just continued looking at me, trying to sense the lie and to judge how ‘dark’ I was.

“How are you still a Jedi?”

“The idea that Jedi do not kill is polite propaganda that the Order encourages. Yes, we do it extremely reluctantly and I speak only for myself when I say that I will kill when I determine a sentient remaining alive will cause a great future calamity, or result in extreme danger to the greater cause. To me, giving that order is no different than when I swing my lightsaber against that Inquisitor with lethal intent.”

I tented my fingers near my chin and lanced Maul with my gaze, bringing the full weight of my intent, spirit and the Force to bear. “Now, I ask again. Will you share your knowledge?”

His eyes twitched and try as he might, he couldn’t bear it for long. “You… you are different. You should be young and beneath me, but you carry a spirit that is too old…”

“Answer the question, Maul,” I said, flaring myself to his spirit, with the ancillary benefits of Battle Meditation.

He eventually looked away and closed his eyes. “Promise me one thing in return, Jedi.”

“Name your promise.”

“No matter what happens, that I will be there when Palpatine breathes his last.”

I raised a brow, “Not even the final blow?”

“As much as I would desire that, I know that I’m not strong enough. If what you say is true, then it will fall to another.”

I pursued the future probability lines… No, too much in the shifting kaleidoscope was uncertain at this point in time.

“I can only promise that when the time comes, I will send for you.”

Maul scrutinized me for a while, before nodding. “Very well, Jedi. We have an accord. Ask.”

“For a start, the precise coordinates of his facility in The Works on Coruscant.”

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The Nu-class military shuttle folded its wings and came to a smooth landing in the giant port hangar bay of the Resolute.

Obi-Wan picked up his small duffle bag and stretched the stiffness out of his limbs from the long period of inactivity. He definitely needed to pick up some exercise again, especially after his latest bout of convalescence in a bacta tank on Naboo. All this business of commanding starships and the Open Circle fleet was really cutting into the time available for that, but it should be no excuse.

Thankfully Anakin is here to potentially help with that, he thought with a slight cheer.

His former padawan was waiting outside, idly looking at a datapad with an air of irritation and almost stabbing it with his index finger as he reviewed some or other military report.

“Anakin,” he greeted warmly.

“Master, good to see you on your feet,” Anakin said with a slight air of trouble and distraction, though he kept his face studiously neutral.

“Good to be on them,” Obi-Wan smiled and they both began the walk to the turbolift. “Congratulations are in order. Nice work in Eriadu.”

Anakin had his nose buried again in the datapad and stabbed the lift control panel with a finger. Oh dear, something’s wrong.

“Yes, it was rather like threading the Kessel Run for a while there, but we managed.”

“Earning galactic praise and recognition. Why is it that always happens when I’m not there?” Obi-Wan teased.

Anakin returned a barely veiled expression of grumpiness in reply. “I don’t know, master. Perhaps the Force is just trying to accommodate your dislike for the spotlight.” His eyes now glinted in humor as the familiar banter occurred.

Obi-Wan was about to parry the verbal thrust, when his personal secure comlink chirped.

A tap on his vambrace brought up a tiny holo of Grand Master Yoda.

“Master Kenobi.”

“Master Yoda, back to the grind, is it?”

“Indeed. Meeting the full council is. Thirty minutes. Knight Skywalker, attend you should.”

“I’ll be there, Master.”

“Anything I should be aware of beforehand, Master?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No, with a clear and unprejudiced mind, you both must join.”

“We’ll be there.”

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They actually made the connection to Coruscant through the holographic systems of Briefing One.

Obi-Wan marvelled slightly at the sheer fidelity as his eyes were perfectly fooled into believing they were standing in the Jedi High Council chamber. The disjointed smell of recycled starship air, the temperature discrepancy and that his feet were slightly going through the projected floor to the modified floor surface of Briefing One, optimized for traction, dispelled the attempted illusion.

He pushed one of the physical chairs in the room to his projected customary seat next to Ki Adi Mundi’s spot, then sat down.

“Ready for the final connection, master?” Anakin chuckled.

“Yes, Anakin.”

His former padawan tapped a control on his vambrace and the room became alive, the holographic forms of the Council flickering into existence in their seats.

Obi-Wan noted that it was an almost full session, with Rancisis and Piell not attending in either physical or holographic form. Not much of a surprise, given the former’s role in the war. There was a joke going round that Master Rancisis had started to actually live in the Temple’s strategic war centre. Piell on the other hand, was one of the Council masters that preferred the front lines and covert operations, so his absence was understandable.

“To you all, welcome,” began Yoda. “Gathered we have, for an opportunity. Yes. One which might have consequences for the war and beyond. For good or ill, we must determine.”

“We’ve been contacted by a group of rebels from Onderon,” Mace Windu continued. “They wish to petition for support from the Republic.”

He tapped a control on his chair and two new holograms appeared in the center.

Obi-Wan frowned as he studied them. On the left, a tall dark skinned human, wearing mismatching parts of armor, colored specifically for the jungles of Onderon. His features and general weight showed he had been subjected to a period of starvation recently, but was clearly on the mend.

The figure next to him couldn’t be more of a contrast. A young man, pale skin and wearing Onderonian soldier’s armor and combat harness with all the symbology torn off. He looked ill at ease in the outfit, but his eyes were one of determination as he looked at the assembled Jedi Council with not a hint of being intimidated or uncertain.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel the young lad looked familiar, the shape of that face, the nose…

“Greetings Masters,” the young man bowed. “I thank you for your time to listen to my petition.”

“Lux Bonteri,” Mace Windu nodded. “You can imagine it was a surprise when you used your mother’s old senatorial credentials to directly contact the Temple’s communication center. Even though they had been disabled.”

“I make no apologies, master. Arranging for this communication has been an ordeal in itself. It was the only way to… attract the necessary attention.”

“It certainly did. Now please present your case.”

“The people of Onderon, ever since the beginning of the Clone Wars, have been under the occupation of the Separatists and their installed puppet king Sanjay Rash. With the droid armies and usurpers loyal to him, Rash has turned every organ of state into only enriching himself and using large sections of the population as slave labor to fuel mineral and weapon exports that go directly into the Separatist’s war machine. Anyone who objects or protests quietly vanishes in the night, joining the ranks of slaves who are worked to death. There is no more legal recourse and the courts have been cowed into doing Rash’s will with the droid army at his command.

“It’s clear that the only recourse left is armed resistance, but we lack sufficient hardware and supplies to properly fight back.”

“I take it, Senator Bonteri, is aware of this as well?” Obi-Wan asked carefully.

“I am uncertain as to what my mother knows or doesn’t,” Lux revealed with a troubled look. “She’s been assigned to Raxus for a year now and Rash has ordered her to remain there to represent our people in the Separatist parliament. Her holocalls to me are routine but I can tell she’s being kept there against her will.”

Obi-Wan hated to do this. “Whilst we know otherwise, Rash’s ascension to the throne has not been sufficiently proven to be illegitimate. In the eyes of the Senate, he was your king and he took your people into the Separatist fold. All word from Onderon since then has been that there is no widespread discontent.”

“All lies and propaganda,” interrupted the man next to Lux with a distinct glint of fanatical zeal in his eyes. “The illegitimate king controls every word of information official or otherwise that leaves Onderon. Our true king has been silenced and is confined in the dungeon of the palace by the usurper. Rash is a Separatist minion and we need your help to survive this.”

“Find a way, we shall, Saw Gerrera,” declared Yoda thoughtfully, stroking his chin.       

“We await your answer. For our own safety, we must cut the connection. We’ll reopen the channel in twenty standard hours,” Lux bowed and the two holos flickered and vanished.

“This opens a new strategy,” Anakin stepped into the center of the room. “Not just on Onderon, but on every occupied world. There are pockets of rebels on many of these planets that just need guidance. With training and resources they could attack targets of opportunity and thinly fortified positions on the enemy rear and home fronts. This frees the Republic to concentrate only on the hardest targets in the battlespaces and fields. ”

“Careful, Anakin, that strays dangerously close to terrorism,” Obi-Wan warned. “What you might consider a target of opportunity will differ in comparison to someone untrained in military affairs.” He couldn’t help but think of the look in Gerrera’s eyes.

“True, but that’s where the training comes in. We need to begin making inroads in the rear of the enemy. Not just in a military sense, but also to help realign these planets back to the Republic.”

“Creating problems, dividing their forces and pressing them on two fronts,” Mace Windu agreed.

“Dangerous tactic. A means to an end, fear cannot be. Stop those who spread terror, the Jedi must. Not encourage or enable them,” Yoda warned.

“We are not in the business of training terrorists, even if they are aimed against the enemies of the Republic,” rumbled Plo Koon from behind his mask.

“They won’t be terrorists, they’ll be rebels against the enemy,” Anakin argued.

“How we conduct war is what distinguishes us from others,” Obi-Wan looked sternly at his former padawan. “As much as I wish it were otherwise, we operate on perception and politics. Funding rebels to overthrow a legitimate government puts innocent lives at risk, no matter what our intentions are.”

“Well, we can minimize collateral damage by only providing arms that work against droids,” Anakin countered.

“We can at least equip the Onderonian rebels to defend themselves, then test the tactic in the process,” Mace pointed out. “If it proves successful then perhaps we can expand the effort on a broader scale across Separatist space.”

“This would also force the enemy to turn their gaze inward, withdraw droids from the frontlines to police and garrison duty, which in turn will make our battles on the frontlines easier. A new tactic to add to our arsenal,” Anakin argued reasonably.

Everyone turned to Yoda and awaited his final word on the matter.

“Hmmm, train and observe, send advisors we will.”

“I’ll assemble a team for covert insertion to Onderon then,” Anakin volunteered.

“Which I will be joining,” Obi-Wan said immediately.

“What? Don’t you trust me, Master?” The mock offense in his tone was clear.

“I trust you too much, and that’s what worries me,” he smirked.

“Fine, welcome aboard,” Anakin rolled his eyes.

Yoda took a silent roll call among the council. “Provisionally, this council approves your mission, Skywalker. May the Force be with you.” He tapped a key on his chair.

The entire holo collapsed and Briefing One reset to a default view of the Darkknell system.

“Besides, I really need to get into the field,” Obi-Wan stood and patted his old former padawan’s armored shoulder. “Now, how about we go to the training arena and have a little spar. Perhaps your padawan can join us?”

Obi-Wan immediately saw Anakin make a brief subtle hand signal.

“She’s got her hands full with ship logistics.”

“Pity.”

‘Anakin, what’s happened?’ he thought

‘I’ll explain as we spar, I have a feeling you’ll need the outlet.’

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He had been prepared for any number of outlandish tales and situations, but he had to admit this scenario would not have occurred to him in a thousand years.

Obi-Wan somersaulted off a floating composite platform and landed right in front of Anakin, slicing his blade straight towards his opponent’s shoulder.

Anakin riposted smoothly, immediately flowing into the overhead slice towards Obi-Wan’s head.

They fell into the rhythm of slice and deflect, varying angles at speeds so quick that their blue blades became long streaks of colour to any observer. The composite platform also began moving through the Resolute’s training deck, introducing the variable of an uncertain footing.

Maul was alive?

It was an almost ridiculous assertion. He had been cut in half at the waist, then fell down a shaft so deep into the bowels of Theed’s plasma works that his remains should’ve been pulped on impact when they inevitably encountered the ground. Even then, those remains would’ve been incinerated eventually from a plasma discharge in the system.

Yet, seemingly, despite all the odds…

Obi-Wan’s traitorous mind began laying out how this could be possible.

The Zabrak’s natural physiological resilience to systemic shock. The strength of a sufficiently powerful user of the Dark Side, which Maul definitely was. Maul reaching out to the Force to bleed off his fall momentum, grabbing hold of the same shield emitters that Obi-Wan had used to save his own life. Using the Force to hold in and support his internal organs. The lightsaber would have also done the main job of cauterizing and sealing things off.

Obi-Wan pulled his blade into a combination of high and low slashes, gently guiding Anakin into leaving the most minor of gaps in his guard.

His former padawan’s eyebrow twitched, betraying the fact that he had spotted what Obi-Wan was trying to do.

Obi-Wan abruptly shifted his attacks, going for the legs with such speed that Anakin had no choice but to give ground in a retreat.

Why would Ahsoka have done this? 

That was a stupid question really. The answer was readily evident to anyone who truly knew her. Barely acknowledging the past, eyes solely on the present and future. Oh, he could well imagine the intelligence auridium mine Maul represented in the fight against Sidious. Yet that didn’t help the part of him that wanted nothing more than to grab the nearest shuttle and begin hunting down Maul, to truly finish what he started so long ago, to bring the killer of Qui-Gon Jinn to justi-

No, it wouldn’t be justice, would it?

It would be revenge.

Simple, short-sighted revenge that didn’t care about the greater consequences.

That only cared about itself and the demand for short-lived satisfaction, the demand for blood, the demand that Maul be made to further pay for the loss of Master Jinn.

It was his own Dark Side that was rearing its ugly head. The Dark Side that he had all but put behind him after the duel with Maul. How easy and quick it resurfaced. It was as if the last decade of discipline and adherence to the principles of the Jedi Code hadn’t mattered at all.

Anakin abruptly backflipped off the platform, landing on another that was passing by.

Obi-Wan sprinted in pursuit, Force Jumping off as the new platform abruptly gained height.

He had barely landed and already had to fend off one of Anakin’s punishing Avalanche attacks, which had an interesting new twist on it, as he varied the angle of the descending blade, only committing at the very last moment.

Obi-Wan was forced to dodge in a blur and bat the blade away, but kept contact and flowed the attack into standard blade lock.

“Do be careful, Anakin. The quartermaster will not thank us for wrecking the place.”

“He’s been grumbling about lacking work anyway.”

In silent mutual agreement, they pushed away from the blade lock and took a step back into guard positions, evaluating each other.

“So how long are we going to wait in Darkknell?”

“There’s a number of items that fell through the cracks when we resupplied in Eriadu, 45 hours at most for the supply ship to reach us, then we can set off for the journey north.”

Translation: It would take that long for Ahsoka to smuggle herself back onto the Resolute.

In the meantime, a restored Maul would be making his way north, back to Dathomir in the company of the Nightsisters, one of which Asajj Ventress.

There were moments when Obi-Wan wondered just how many more compromises they would make in the fight against Sidious. When would they reach the point where a line had to be drawn?

Anakin abruptly lunged into an attack on his right shoulder.

Obi-Wan easily tilted his blade to intercept, revealing the feinted opening for what it was.

“Nice try.”

They settled back into the battle of the mind, the platform moving below their feet began a series of rapid shifts, forcing them to adapt and counteract the shifting momentum, yet stay perfectly focused on each other.

‘Did you at least try to convince her otherwise?’ he thought to Anakin.

‘Yes, she would not be dissuaded. However, bringing Maul in has already yielded the first intel we need. We have a location on Sidious’ hidden base in The Works.’

‘Sidious may have moved it since Maul was last there.’

The Works was a vast zone of abandoned factories, with only scattered active surface factories that managed to survive the changing economic conditions centuries ago that had driven such large-scale manufacturing off Coruscant. The situation in the lower floors there was even worse, to the point that civilization practically ceased at anything beyond level 200. Going deeper was a complete unknown to modern databases and no one was insane enough to even try plumbing those depths further.

Most areas of Coruscant could reach up to 2000 levels deep, with varying degrees of general safety and police droid presence. The Works was an entirely different proposition.

It was generally accepted that the deep abandoned factories had long since shut down, but the neglected machinery, chemicals and other elements had combined to make it uninhabitable and deadly to even try. Rumors had abounded of lost technologies from the ancient Republic that could be rediscovered, but for centuries those who tried exploring those depths for lost treasure simply never came back.

It was now considered suicide to venture into those depths and Obi-Wan could entirely see how that would make it ideal for Sidious to conduct his more nefarious activities there.

It was entirely possible that the Banite Sith Order had intentionally cultivated the zone’s reputation, making sure anyone venturing there would die.

‘Possibly, but the facility Maul describes is too large, with infrastructure and assets not easily moved. He also has no reason to move, as Sidious doesn’t know of Maul’s survival.’

Obi-Wan slashed towards Anakin’s left knee at the exact moment the platform made another abrupt shift in direction.

The deflection moving into the riposte was adequate, but the shifting balance was slightly off as he put too much weight onto his right leg.

The abrupt Force Push from Obi-Wan to capitalize was enough to put Anakin on the backfoot and they quickly fell into another contest of slashes and lunging attacks this time.

They continued in this vein for nearly half an hour, turning it smoothly into a contest of endurance, focus and concentration.

Annoyingly, Anakin managed to score the final blow of their spar session, worming his blade through for a numbing strike on Obi-Wan’s left knee.

He still won the overall bout at eight disabling strikes to Anakin’s six.

They shut down the arena’s systems and rehydrated from water bottles on a bench, toweling off sweat in silence and using the Force internally, addressing the consequences of the two hours of exertion.

‘What will Ahsoka do?’

‘Send in HK for recon only.’

That blasted droid, Obi-Wan thought privately. ‘Naturally, it would be too dangerous to relieve Sidious of any of his possessions there or place any surveillance devices.’

‘Master, HK has infiltrated much more secure places in his time, in an era when there were Sith Lords aplenty. I’d think he knows a thing or two about how to spy on them without detection.’

‘I hope you’re right, Anakin. This advantage we have is very fragile. I’d hate to see us lose it.’

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The rhythmic tapping of beskar plated fingers on radiation resistant plasteel reverberated around me.

It brought me out of my inner world of the mind and Force. The infinite black stone and radiant white landscape was replaced with the darkened interior of my little smuggling hideaway in the large ordnance pallet, which had been legitimately transferred onto the Resolute.

The tapping in distinct Morse code was very simply my name and was the prearranged signal from M8 that the coast was clear in the cavernous cargo bay.

A flex of telekinesis opened the hidden interior latches and the small side door popped open.

I made one final check that everything in the smuggling compartment was sanitized before emerging into the darkness of the bay.

M8 had already opened herself up for me, and I quickly climbed in and the beskar’gam was fully sealed around me.

“Good to see you, M8.”

“And you, mistress.”

“Give me a full report on your activities.”

For the next forty minutes, I reviewed every conversation M8 had on my behalf, making mental notes and what to follow up on. It was mostly routine as she was instructed to always appear ‘busy’ to avoid complex situations, but it was inevitable that she couldn’t avoid everything. M8 had a fairly accurate decision matrix to reference for how I would respond to any given situation or how I would give orders, but it wasn’t perfect.

I could already see that I would have to put out some fires in the quartermaster’s office, not to mention smooth over Chewie’s ruffled mane, after M8 had been a bit short with him on some new hyperdrive modulations that he wanted to try in simulation.

Chewie knew that I had been secretly off the ship, but he had the shield of an inhuman wookiee face that hardly anyone would be able to read. It was annoying to keep him in the dark on most of my activities, but he thankfully understood the safety and necessity behind it.

The Resolute was now well beyond the Pax system and powering its way up the Hydian.

It would be four days to Exodeen in the Core worlds, where we would leave the ship in a cloaked scout to begin the journey eastward to Onderon.

I made a final check of every aspect of my armor and lightsabers, feeling only relief to be holding my own blades and to openly wear the Darksaber again.

A quick check to secure the smuggler compartment and I was walking amongst the giant rows of stacked pallets and emerged into the ship’s corridors.

I grabbed the first turbolift I could and wasn’t surprised at who was already waiting for me.

“Skyguy, Master Kenobi,” I greeted casually, as if I had just seen them a few hours ago. I turned to check the control panel and found the main bridge level already selected. The doors closed and the lift car sped off.

I was quite impressed - but not surprised - with how Obi-Wan, to every sense I had, was ever the unflappable Jedi Master he always was in my presence. You wouldn’t think I was chiefly responsible for saving the zabrak that had defeated and killed his old master.

‘Welcome back, Ahsoka,’ Obi-Wan’s active Force probe reached my mind. ‘While I’ve tacitly approved bringing the Nightsisters into an alliance and yes, I was still in recovery when this Maul business happened. I’d appreciate some consultation in the future when such a significant decision or event is taking place.’

‘Yes, master.’ I replied, though he certainly appreciated that such communication could be impossible or too risky, but he was the most senior Jedi truly within Fulcrum and was my effective eyes and ears in the High Council. As much as I didn’t want to alienate Talzin, that also applied to Obi-Wan.

‘Ahsoka, tell me directly, please. Tell me that Maul will not cause more problems for us all in the future.’ That he let me feel his self-recrimination at his own perceived failure to properly deal with Maul more than a decade ago, spoke volumes.

‘I can give no such guarantee, Master. You know how this works. Maul is contained on Dathomir for the moment. His mother will ensure it further and Asajj will work to make him useful. Kina Ha will also pitch in eventually and then I have… hope that he’ll walk the path he needs to.’

Then with an entirely innocent tone, I continued, ‘Besides, his probability line was originally on  a path that would see him kill my sovereign.’ I could almost hear the record screech in his mind as he comprehended that. ‘Which would naturally be quite catastrophic for the Mandalorian people.’

Anakin and I met each other’s eyes with amusement as we sensed Obi-Wan being thoroughly discombobulated at the mere thought of his beloved Satine’s future death being averted thanks to me altering Maul’s original destiny.

The master recovered a few moments later and I could feel both his mild irritation and profound gratitude. His old romance and now unrequited love for Satine was something Anakin and I had enjoyed teasing Obi-Wan about for months during our exile to Mortis.

‘Well, if that was the original path… then you have my thanks, Ahsoka.’

The turbolift came to a stop and opened.

Anakin led the way to Briefing One and I was pleasantly surprised to see both Chewie and Rex patiently waiting there. The big wookiee had an equally big datapad and was making thoughtful grunts while tapping on it, whilst Rex was also using a holo screen, reviewing trooper assignments. Both snapped to attention when the door parted at our entry.

“Rex, Chewie, thanks for agreeing to join the mission.”

“It’s an honor, general,” Rex nodded. Anakin could’ve asked for a commando team or even CT99, but that would’ve been violating the spirit of Master Yoda’s approval for it. We were not going to liberate Onderon single handedly, merely equipping and training the people to throw off the yoke of the CIS.

“R2, bring it up,” he ordered the astromech, already plugged into the room’s systems.

Everything grew briefly dark until a scaled version of Onderon hovered in the air above us.

“This is our target planet. Onderon is mostly human, but there are bivali, ithorian, togruta and twi’lek citizens. So it’s cosmopolitan enough that we won’t have to worry about blending in with disguises if we have to. It’s mostly classified as a jungle world and all the major cities are built in those temperate zones, so hot and humid is the order of the day. Make sure to pack appropriately.”

A few gestures manipulated the holo to zoom inward and highlighted an area 130 kilometers south-east of the capital city, Iziz.

“That is the rendezvous point given to us by the rebel group. They’re seemingly either led or at least sponsored by Lux Bonteri, the only son of Senator Mina Bonteri.”

The image of a mildly handsome young human with short dark brown hair in a soldier’s attire appeared and I inwardly sighed in annoyance, as I was reminded of the old axiom regarding the future - it’s shaped by the character of those who lived it. The Ahsoka of another time and place, would through other events become attracted to Lux and it would be reciprocated for a while, until the Onderonian civil war and their disparate duties would destroy any possibility for things to develop further.

In the here and now, I felt nothing but a mild appreciation for his looks. If he just grew up a little more and got more meat on his bones…

“The only other intel we have on the rebels is also this man, Saw Gerrera.”

It was almost startling to see him as a younger man, without all the cybernetic medical assistance and the wounds he would endure through decades of struggle, which would turn him into the battered near-cyborg man who would die to the first test firing of the Death Star on Jedha.  

“There is little of note in the databases on him until now, besides that he was a relatively model citizen of the planet who paid his taxes and worked on a ruping farm with his family. With the advent of the Clone Wars and Onderon’s secession, we can only assume that he obviously objects to his planet being under the CIS banner and is only loyal to the deposed king.”

“What’s the enemy forces' disposition?” Rex asked. 

Anakin swiped his hand to bring up a general sector map. “While the system is technically on our side of the line, that changes the moment you reach high orbit. Onderon is one of the few worlds to come into the Clone War with a decent defense grid, something built out of the wealth their rhydonium exports created and the necessity to protect the mines and shipments from criminal and pirate exploitation. The rhydonium refinement and products are now being smuggled at great expense using cloaked ships back to Separatist space. A substantial droid army was dropped onto the planet at the beginning of the war, which only stopped once the current battlespaces solidified. Intelligence scans indicate we’re dealing with at least three army groups, most centered around the capital, with detachments spread across the planet to secure other cities with the most significant mining and industry facilities.”

“We’d need a full invasion task group to retake that,” Rex grumbled, which he knew the Republic couldn’t afford to do at the moment.

“Which is why enabling resistance movements across the occupied worlds in our current territory is being considered as a strategy,” Obi-Wan explained. “We can’t be everywhere and so it must fall to the local people to liberate their worlds, until the GAR has the capacity and resources to reach them.”

“If this mission succeeds, it will be the first of a greater initiative to destabilize Separatist control of planets in their space,” Anakin continued. “It will force the enemy to pull resources from the front lines and thereby strain their defenses.”

“Reasonable plan, in theory,” I commented.

He raised both eyebrows at me, “Do you have something to add, Snips?”

“As I said, a nice plan, but the practical is always the problem. What might work on Onderon, will not work on another world. If the local leadership remains relatively popular despite changing allegiance to the CIS, then any insurgency is doomed to fail. In any post-war analysis, the Republic will have been seen as ‘being the bad guy’ on a local level. Let’s not forget that many worlds seceded because of the Republic’s failures.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully, “You touch on my primary concern with this strategy, Ahsoka.”

“Battles such as these must be waged knowing that you fight for the hearts and minds of the people, as much as you’re pursuing any material objective to a greater cause. I’ve reviewed what Republic Intel has gathered on Sanjay Rash’s rule thus far and he’s a typical despotic leader, who is only concerned for his own self-interest and maintaining his grip on the throne. There isn’t a week that goes by without a public execution happening outside the palace. We can well assume that he’s not just beheading ordinary criminals with the spectacle he’s making.”

“Such a madclaw king would be torn limb from limb on Kashyyyk, the remains thrown into the Shadowlands,” Chewie roared.

“Which should make the battle for hearts and minds much easier,” Anakin agreed.

“The worrying thing is that he’s been entrenched for more than nineteen months at this point. In such a time frame, people will begin to adapt, lay low. A new equilibrium has been established, even if that equilibrium is horrible. They will by nature resist disturbing it for fear of their own lives and their families. The challenge will be to overcome that fear and hesitancy.”

“Good point, Snips. We’ll just have to see what happens on the ground and what we have to work with in terms of the local rebels.”

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The Resolute passed through the Zeltros system on the Trellen Trade Route a few days later, seemingly going on its newly established official mission to provide a resupply for the Umbaran garrison.

In hyperspace though, it went through the delicate process of launching a ship, another of the new Omicron-class cloak capable scout ships.

It was so new, it didn’t even have a proper name registered in the transponder besides its military code, so Chewie took the liberty to call it the ‘Skyfang’.

It was another eight hours in hyper, turning onto the Lesser Lantillian route heading galactic northward before we dropped into the Onderon system itself.

Under Anakin’s expert touch, we merged relative velocities with the planet, taking the extra time to not generate any atmospheric entry plasma - which would’ve been painting a huge target for the orbital defense grid to lock onto.

We slowed to a practical crawl of 40 kph, a kilometer from the rendezvous point, staying just above the jungle canopy.

“All right, R2, she’s all yours. Keep her safe and stay in touch,” Anakin patted the astromech, who chirped a firm positive.

We quickly airdropped out of the Skyfang, using the Force or jump pack respectively to slow our falls.

My knees bent slightly on the loamy jungle floor as I bled the last of my momentum into the Force.

I breathed deeply of the humid air and inwardly basked at the strength of life in the Force I was surrounded with. It was radiant and much more in balance, an extreme contrast to Lotho Minor. In the night around me, the jungle was alive with a multitude of fantastic insects and creatures, emitting their respective sounds into the air. The temperature was a comfortable 24 C, but that would change come morning.

“Rex, Chewie, with me on point. Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, tree tops,” Anakin ordered subvocally on coms.

We pulled the Force tight around our bodies, dampening any sound we made and I surged into a Jump and began doing what was effectively tree parkour, taking a flanking route towards the south alongside Anakin’s straight route towards the rendezvous.

Obi-Wan did the same from the north, as we couldn’t be sure that this meeting hadn’t been leaked to the enemy.

We were four hundred meters away when I managed to distinguish proper sentience amongst the dense life that surrounded us. Eight humans in fairly good concealment and cover, waiting and surrounding the rendezvous point. Farsight revealed they were definitely the Onderonian rebels. I wouldn’t put it past Rash to have a spy or even pull a false flag, but the low level desperation permanently clouding their spirits would indicate that we were dealing with the real thing.

‘Mistress, low power encrypted transmission detected,’ M8 informed me.

I felt the rebels instantly grow alert as Anakin, Chewie and Rex walked into their little ambush.

One of the rebels was riding a domesticated dalgo, a carnivorous beast that looked like someone had taken the body plan of a horse and given it the scaled skin of an exotically colored reptile, with a huge fanged mouth.  

She burst out of concealment, letting the dalgo jump and land right in front of Anakin.

The dalgo growled in warning and the other rebels popped out with blaster pistols and rifles leveled.

It was a good, if fairly conventional ambush, but it made no provision for a counter-ambush and showed the level of inexperience the rebels in general had.

“Stay where you are,” ordered the rebel sternly. “Identify yourselves.”

Anakin pulled away the hood of the cloak around his armor and removed the helmet.

“It’s all right. I’m Jedi General Anakin Skywalker, to my left is Tech Sergeant Chewbacca and Captain Rex of the 501st.”

The rebel woman dug her heels into the sides of the dalgo, guiding it to walk calmly closer. In the overhead moonlight, her weather-beaten features came into view; stained sleeveless shirt, pants with many pockets, high leather riding boots and a sweat cloth tied around her head to absorb the sweat from a generous mane of dreadlocked hair. She held her blaster pistol at her hip with a casual proficient air. Her eyes took in every detail of Anakin before the tightly coiled tension in her bearing faded.

“So it seems, Master Jedi.”

Obi-Wan prompted me silently through the Force, and we both, in an obvious bit of supernatural showmanship, hurled ourselves through the air into a double somersault, dropping our auditory stealth.

He landed next to Anakin, whilst I landed a seemingly impossible jump on a narrow tree stump behind one of the rebels, staying casually balanced on my left foot only.

The rebel in question was badly startled, almost reflexively turning around and aiming at me with his blaster.

“I’m Jedi Commander Tano and my colleague in our little demonstration is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. We’ve been sent by the Jedi Council to aid you.”

“Well met,” she looked at me with some confusion. “I’m Steela. You’re Mandalorian as well?”

“Correct.”

“I didn’t know that was possible, but given the last few years, nothing will surprise me anymore. I apologize for the hostile reception, but we have to be cautious. Rash has tried to send spies into our ranks, posing as new rebels that want to join the fight. We learned that lesson at a high cost.” Her eyes grew both hard and sad in clear memory. “I shall take you to one of our hidden encampments. Everyone, move out!”

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A/N: Bridging chapter into the new arc. Happy Friday everyone and enjoy the weekend :-) Stay awesome folks.

2078: Highrider - Chapter 9

The Vanta would need four hours and two complete orbits to reach rendezvous with our target.

Luthando was kept busy with the orbital adjustments, Zandi made sure the Vanta wouldn’t explode on the way there, whilst Jax, Johnny and I just played passenger.

At least, in meatspace.

In the Relic datafortress, we were both going over the data on the Arasaka shuttle with a nanoscope.

“Fuck,” I groused, kicking my feet in the simulated water of the data pool idly as I sat on the edge. “It had to be a fucking Kōmori.”

Johnny was only wearing a pair of swim shorts on his avatar and idly read the data hovering over the pool. “Shuttle my ass, it might as well be a vac fighter.”

The Arasaka Kōmori-Class armed trans-lunar ‘shuttle’, was only called that to skirt around the various treaties signed in the wake of the 4th Corporate War, which had also made a mess of LEO and trans-lunar space. In the decades since, a steady effort from garbage scows and tugs had cleaned up Earth-Luna space significantly, but ships still needed active radar pinging constantly to get sufficient warning of the smaller hazards. 

“Weird,” I muttered.

“What?”

“A Kōmori should have enough deltaV to go straight from Luna’s surface all the way to Earth re-entry and land without needing a refuel like this.”

“So they were definitely doing a lot of maneuvers beyond the norm. How many gonks we gonna have to flatline?”

“If they’re carrying something important enough for this, it means we have two pilots, one systems engineer, twelve Arasaka elite operatives and the onboard AI. Maybe less if they took casualties stealing the item from ForgeVex.”

In meatspace, I turned to Zandi, “When we pass the shuttle in our first orbit, think you can throw a few extra radar pulses at them.”

“Make it look like we’re just being thorough in our navigation?” she smirked knowingly. “Sure, but why?”

“I want more data for proper imaging. This is a Kōmori-Class and we must make sure we know what we’re getting into. They might have the standard ‘self-defense’ armament, but if they have a surprise for us, we’re going to suck vacuum if we’re not careful.”

Sure enough, forty minutes later the Kōmori practically zoomed past us at over 200 relative meters per second, 19 kilometers off the Vanta’s starboard side. Orbital mechanics meant we would have to speed up enough over the next orbit to properly intercept at a safe velocity.

In cyberspace, I poured over the raw radar data, throwing algorithms and imaging programs at it.

Finally, after seven meatspace seconds, it resolved into something understandable and accurate enough for our purposes.

A Kōmori had a black exterior with the typical Arasaka, angular neo-militaristic lines, which was accented by the white, backlit three-limbed tree logo of the corp, displayed near the cockpit and tail. It had a 48 meter length with retractable delta wings for when it reached atmo. Its primary armament was two 30mm retractable railguns and four Mantis-Blade class Micro-missile pods that were meant for anti-drone work or any lightly armored target - such as the Vanta.

That was standard, but it was what was on the dorsal mount that was definitely not.

“Fuck,” I shook my head, pointing it out to Johnny. “See that heat bloom and the shape of the mount, it’s got a point defense laser and the extra cherry on top, an ECM pod under the right wing.”

“They light us up with that, we’re toast. Better hope they don’t catch on to us, V.”

“About the only silver lining here is that when the lead and hacks start flying, they don’t dare use those guns. The blast will just as surely turn them to debris.”

“Butcher, the on-board AI, what can you tell me?”

The AI in my corner blurred his avatar into existence next to me. “Arasaka NeuralSync Kage-OS, restricted artificial intelligence with neural network architecture, derived from Arasaka’s Soulkiller technology; housing a sanitized, non-sentient version of Soulkiller 3.0. Its main purpose is autonomous flight control, mission coordination, security management, and crew augmentation. Based on available data, it has a processing power of 8 petaflops, hosted on a quantum-assisted neuromorphic processor. It is more likely to be 10 petaflops as Arasaka always undersells the performance specifications.”

“It would always have the hardware high ground, so it’s more about the cybersecurity protocols. You think we can take it?”

“It is not a matter of thinking, V. This is a chained AI, we are not.”

I nodded at the AI’s point. “So it will be cookie cutter attacks and defenses, with the force of a nuke behind them. Of course, there may also be a Netrunner among this security detail.”

Johnny shook his head, “Arasaka’s not about to put an elite ‘runner on a mission like this. Those don’t grow on trees and firing them out into the black is a sure way to lose ‘em.”

“We’ll just plan on the worst contingency and move on from there.”

Another orbit later in meatspace, the Vanta was steadily catching up to the Kōmori, the orbits now almost completely aligned.

“Range 83 km, 150 m.s. closure, nine minutes to docking range,” Luthando announced. “Zandi, you’re up.”

She nodded and switched on the radio, adjusting to the designated ship-to-ship frequencies used in Luna orbit, “Arasaka flight 31589, this is Tycho Refueler Vanta 15291. Approaching from your ventral at 180 mark 20.”

“Vanta, 31589, we read. Approach no faster than 20 m.s at our CQB perimeter or you will be assumed hostile and fired upon.”

“Roger that, 31589.”

The CQB perimeter for a spacecraft that size and armament was 5km, which was generally measured by how far its biggest gun could reach out within a single second. It would increase the time to dock but it was generally considered standard practice for any spacecraft carrying VIP or valuable cargo these days. The first actual pirate raid on the Crystal Palace two years ago had led to a sweeping change in the conduct of ship-to-ship operations in the Earth-Luna system.

Of course, no mere change in rules and laws would actually deter what we were about to do, which could be considered piracy from Arasaka’s point of view. In the classical Age of Sail sense, we were actually privateers, working on behalf of the Highrider Confed and the Driftkin.

Sure enough, Luthando tapped on the thrusters and smoothly shed closure velocity until we hit 20 meters per second at 5.12 km, which in an impressive show of skill he did completely manually with only his eyes and the feel of the ship around him.

Our orbit brought us into full sunlight two minutes later and we could finally see the Kōmori with the naked optic, growing steadily larger as the two craft merged their orbits into an intercept.

As with everything, Arasaka had a definite visual style in their products that I couldn’t help but find pleasing and their spacecraft design didn’t disappoint.

The shuttle’s sharp angular profile reminded me of a bat, if you gave it armor of titanium-ceramic plating with integrated reactive armor and polarized, ballistic-grade transparent aluminum frontage with retractable blast shields.

“See its fuel ports?” Zandi asked.

“Ventral side,” Luthando nodded. “Bringing us around.”

With deft taps on the controls, keeping his eyes on his instruments and looking through the narrow forward window, he practically danced the ship around their target, keeping the Vanta’s blunt nose towards the Kōmori.

“All right, we’re aligned on x, y and z, beginning final closure. Zandi, you can extend the fuel dock and make sure it’s the Arasaka Aerospace drogue.”

“Hey, I don’t teach you how to fly, spacejock, you let me worry about my systems.”

Whilst they were busy with the nitty gritty of meatspace, Butcher, Johnny and myself were carefully probing the approaching bubble of cyberspace that represented the Kōmori’s systems and on-board AI. We were close enough now that there wouldn’t be any appreciable signal degradation. If the Vanta had a proper com array that wasn’t a generation old, we could’ve used it to begin this process at 55 km range.

As expected, the Kōmori was a tight, orderly package of systems, ruled over by the iron fist of its KageOS AI. It didn’t tolerate a single disorderly data packet before it brought its metaphorical digital boot down and crushed it. There would be no sneaky junk data attacks here, nor was there any notion of stealth either. In its current contained operating regime, there was no chance to sneak in. It was not maintaining an active link with either Luna, LEO or Earth based Arasaka servers. It only had its transponder radiating data to Tycho City control.

“Unless either of you think you can push a stealth hack through a transponder that barely puts out kilobytes of data, our attack will have to coincide with the meatspace assault,” I shrugged with annoyance.

The smallest covert quickhack I had was the Ping, which needed at least 90KB. Trying to push that through the Kōmori transponder’s pathetic bandwidth would take at least 18 seconds. Given how anal this KageOS was, it wouldn’t surprise me if even the Ping would set off its internal alarms.

Butcher raised a digital hand and manifested a daemon.

I blinked in astonishment at the little thing and could scarcely believe what I was seeing.

Butcher had on the fly programmed a daemon that would cause havoc for any crew member that was relying on the KageOS for augmentation support and would disable the static internal and external defenses. It was barely 4KB in size and used a compression heuristic algorithm that was a work of art. The instant it was within the Kōmori’s systems it would unfold into a larger daemon of 8MB and go about its work. It was also stealthed to appear as just another routine function of the ship and its systems.

That was the problem with using an AI like the KageOS. Any true AGI would immediately see that there was a surplus program and have the imagination to deduce that there was something wrong. It was the trade-off that a corp like Arasaka had to make; keep the raw ability of an AI, but allow it no sentience and initiative. It might after all decide that it really didn’t want to work for them anymore and not just leave, but wreck things on the way out. Any employee could theoretically do that and I had definitely done that in the fullness of time, but those were the rules of meatspace. In cyberspace, the info nuke the disgruntled AI could leave would be apocalyptic.

I took careful note of the mini-daemon, learning its code architecture and began a background process to begin seeing if I couldn’t slim down my own hacks and cyberspace weapons further. It was immediately apparent that it wouldn’t work on high tier hacks but it definitely had applications on the low and mid tiers.

“Deploy it, might as well get started now,” I smirked, rubbing my digital hands together in anticipation. There was nothing like the thrill of hacking.

The Vanta shuddered slightly as its extendable fuel dock met the open dock of the Kōmori.

“Soft capture, moving to hard capture,” Zandi flicked a number of switches and we heard the latching motors whine through the hull as the Vanta pulled in the fuel adaptors, creating a tight seal between the two ships. “Give me an ullage burn.”

“Ullage burn,” Luthando confirmed, tapping his controls slightly. It created a short burn from the main engines to settle the Vanta’s fuel tanks from microgravity effects.

“Tanks look good, beginning transfer.”

I could feel the rumbling of the pumps through my feet as both liquid hydrogen and oxygen started its journey through the piping towards the Kōmori.  

“All right,” said Jax with a smirk, unbuckling from his seat. “Zandi, give them 20% of the fuel load they need, then fake a pump failure.”

“Not hard to do on this bucket,” she chuckled.

Johnny and I followed suit, grabbing our weapons before floating our way through the tiny bridge, down an equally tiny gangway towards the port exterior maintenance airlock.

In the dozen seconds this took, the mini-daemon had uncompressed itself into the Kōmori’s cyberspace and began its subtle work. First was spoofing the return signals from the micro-missile pods and then thoroughly wrecking the control software.

“Secondary armaments on the Kōmori are down,” I told Jax.

“Already? You work fast.”

I nodded, “Railguns are down too, working on the crew augments and internal defenses. I’m going to keep them online until we breach. There’s some redundancy here that might be tripped and alert our targets.”

“Keep me posted,” he said and began a check on his own weapon to pass the time.

A complete refuel of the Kōmori would usually take 19 minutes according to its specs and so at four minutes I felt the Vanta’s pumps give off an awful noise that we only heard because our feet were maglocked to the deck.        

Zandi waited further, simulating the time it would take for her to do a diagnostic, talk to the crew and decide on a course of action. Then she keyed the radio.

“Kōmori, Vanta, we have a malfunction in our primary pump system, the secondary is not responding. Our sincere apologies. We’re sending an EVA repair team.”

“Roger Vanta, any idea how long it will take?” The Arasaka pilot’s exasperated tone was clear even over the crackling comms.

“Sorry Kōmori. We’ll only have an update after the team has done a physical inspection. Stand by.”

In the time it took us to enter the airlock and shut the inner hatch, I directed Butcher to spoof the Kōmori’s external cams and show them exactly what they expected to see.

With the Vanta already in vacuum, we had no wait for equalization and opened the exterior door into the black void of space.

The moon loomed massively above the joined spacecraft, bearing silent witness to what was about to occur.

I took a deep breath and stepped out, grabbing onto a nearby railing and started pulling myself a few meters along it to allow Jax and Johnny to emerge.

My SMG’s targeting blossomed in my vision in both meat and cyberspace, whilst I casually cradled it against my right shoulder.

“V, ready?” Jax asked.

“Ready.”

“Hollow, ready?”

“Ready.”

“Push off in three, two, one… now!”

I pulled on the railing and let go, feeling the nervous thrill of the sheer danger of the action settling on my psyche as my momentum translated into a velocity to bridge the gap between the two spacecraft.

In cyberspace, I brought my suit’s micro-RCS online and began smoothing out my course towards the Kōmori.

“Butcher?”

“You’re cleared to proceed, V. The KageOS is fooled.”

That wouldn’t hold for long though.

The Kōmori had two airlocks for crew access, aft for cargo and another on the fore dorsal for crew transfer.

Jax and Johnny headed to the former, whilst I smoothly powered through space to approach the latter.

I had to be careful in my approach though, just a few degrees off and the pilots in the cockpit would literally see me through the front window and I had no direct access yet to hack their optics.

“V, we’re in position.” Jax confirmed.

“Hacking in three, two, one.”

As a well oiled team, Butcher and I dropped our stealth and began our opening salvos in the Kōmori’s cyberspace.

We both cooperated to crash upload a Neural Shredder V3.1 straight towards the KageOS.

My visualization of cyberspace was more esoteric as I began to see it beyond human norms.

It looked like a multi-dimensional cuboid mass that aggregated into a gigantic multilimb ‘creature’, which swam with red flowing machine code on its surface.

Our Neural Shredder exploded across cyberspace and washed over KageOS, flooding every port it had open to each system of the Kōmori with corrupted data packets.

I could only marvel at the spectacle as it settled over the entire expanse of our enemy, which to my perceptions was easily as big as a Megatower. Before I had switched over to a Gemini, I would’ve needed at least an external computing deck to support such an attack. Now I flung the Shredder with an ease that barely strained my RAM capacity and cyberdeck.

The KageOS immediately realized it was under attack but was indecisive in how to respond, as our opening volley had been intended to disrupt its decision making algorithms.  

It ballooned in size, thrashing outward towards us in cyberspace, its own attacks completely missing or easily stopped entirely with junk data shields

Our infiltrator daemon, still undetected, spoofed the internal sensors into thinking that there was a fire aboard the Kōmori. Safety protocols that prevented the opening of airlocks failed to kick in and the explosive bolts fired.

In meatspace, I was well out of the way as the black outer airlock door blasted off and just missed the Vanta’s hull by centimeters.

All the internal air blasted out, acting as an impromptu thruster.

As this happened from the dorsal and aft sides, it didn’t have any appreciable effect on the combined spacecraft.

With deft pulls and precise RCS firings, I moved into the Kōmori with SMG poised to fire.

A 9mm SMG turret popped out of the airlock roof, scanning for targets.

The local program could barely even see me before the infiltrator daemon killed power to its actuators, keeping it stuck pointed directly into the side bulkhead.

The KageOS shot out a stream of offensive daemons the size of cars towards me, bristling with data scramblers, corrupting code and defrags.

I gestured with my virtual left hand, manifesting the next program that I had developed with Butcher.

The Echo Swarm burst into existence around me before streaking outward in a gigantic starburst.

It consisted of thousands of decoy subroutines that mimicked Butcher and I, drawing off the daemons to spend themselves futilely on the Swarm.

In meatspace, I stuck my SMG around the corner, using the tiny cam near the barrel to aim and let off a three round burst.

The tungsten slugs penetrated the visor of the first Arasaka operative, killing him before the oxygen in the helmet cooked off in a mini-inferno.

That the security operatives would be prepared for dealing with a sudden loss of atmosphere was no surprise. All of them were in black mechanical counterpressure suits prominently stamped with the corp logo on their chests, along with armor plating. Standard procedure was for helmets to always be on in flight, whilst their onboard Agents could seal the helmet faster than they could think.

The flashes of more railgun fire from the other end of the ship reached me as Johnny and Jax fired into the operatives. 

Thankfully, the enemy operatives knew better than to just spray and pray, as any missed shots would go past me and straight through the closed door to my left that housed the pilots and very delicate controls.

A wrong shot there would be enough to certainly doom them.

‘We managed to get three,’ Johnny reported. ‘They’re using the dead bodies as cover and there’s deployable cover they pulled out from bulkheads.’

I was mostly focused on the battle in cyberspace at the moment, but reacted in time to catch another operative with a burst of tungsten through the braincase as he tried to lean out and shoot at my exposed SMG.

As the last of the KageOS’s attack daemons spent themselves, I deployed four rapid Synapse Burnouts that streaked towards the enemy AI like giant bending laser beams fired from orbit.

The KageOS predictably absorbed the attacks on its own firewalls.

Sacrificing integrity for time to counter-attack.

Butcher on the other hand had actually thrown his own attack to land between my third and fourth Burnout.

He had used a daemon he called the Codebreaker’s Gambit.

It slammed against the gaps in the enemy firewalls, that settled into them like thousands of tiny spiders that began destructively analyzing the codebase of the firewall and derezzed it further.  

My fourth Burnout burst through these gaps and began immediately attacking the AI’s neural pathways, spiking the computational load to beyond redline and actually melting internal circuitry and logic gates.

“V! Those mad fools are trying to use their RCS to break the fuel dock!” Zandi shouted into the team link.

“Can Luthando match the maneuvers?”

“So far, but the strain is at half of rated spec, if it breaks off… There’s still residual LOX and Hydrogen in the feed lines!”

‘Butcher?’

My AI partner nodded, “I’ll handle the KageOS.’

His avatar blurred away from my side in cyberspace and appeared ‘above’ KageOS, where he immediately launched an Entropy Spike attack that manifested all around the enemy and shot inward to the beleaguered AI. I winced as I saw the self-replicating algorithms spear into the Kage AI’s codebase, causing its systems to degrade rapidly as critical functions were randomized or corrupted.

I focused my own attention on those corrupted systems and hit paydirt.

With a shift, I manifested my avatar right at the belly of the enemy.

With a gesture Subversion Protocols shot forth and wrenched away control of the internal doors, cams and deployable armor covers that the operatives were hiding behind.

Six of them were left at this point and with cam access I hammered their individual firewalls, burning them down and shoving Contagion and Blind Optics through.

A firefight was downright eerie in full vacuum.

There was just light, a body jerking as AP bullets tore through armor plating and vac suit.

The operatives could only stand in the darkness of their blinded optics, frantically wonder why the Kage AI had failed and die. Some would decide to go out with a bang and spray in the direction they knew Johnny and Jax were, but both had already taken cover behind the subverted physical defenses.

I pushed off the wall and grabbed a hold of the cockpit door, bracing with my feet to get the required leverage and pulled.

The door, which was rated to keep at least some air pressure behind it for a time to allow the crew to don pressure suits, was ripped off relatively easily.

My Weapon Sabotage hack went right through the two pilots and engineer’s meager native firewalls like they weren’t even there.

The pistols they had been aiming at the door discharged their accumulated energy outwards instead of into the projectile.

All three stupidly looked down in astonishment at their broken weapons, then at me.

My SMG went to single shot mode and with a careful adjustment of the ForgeVex’s velocity, I put three rounds through each’s helmet within less than a second.

“That better, Zandi?”

“Definitely. Thanks, V. We’re stabilizing now.”

“We’re done as well. All hostiles down,” declared Jax.

In cyberspace, Butcher had reduced the KageOS to an utter mess of disjointed systems and corrupted parts.

“AI’s down as well, let’s sweep and clean.”

88888888888888888888888888888888 

The Vanta resumed refueling only after we had done as thorough a check as possible for possible damage to the Kōmori.

We had been very frugal with our shots from the start to avoid breaching the hull from inside, but our opposition had no such constraints when the writing of their death was on the wall. We had to patch up seven holes using the Kōmori’s damage control supplies and only after a thorough check to see there hadn’t been any critical issues from that damage, did we begin the process of salvage.

Butcher and I spent most of that time picking apart the residual ‘corpse’ of the KageOS for all the system keys and repairing all the individual operating software to allow us to properly fly the Kōmori.

Jax, on the other hand, had already secured the objective.

It had been handcuffed to one of the operatives and was a large weapon case, with only the ForgeVex name printed on it in an unappealing font. It looked like it could easily fit a pump-action power shotgun inside, but I sincerely doubted that we had gone through all this just for a measly shotgun.

I didn’t like using them except in a real pinch when there were no other options, but my armory in NC had a fair number of custom ones, including the one gifted to me by Judy, which I wouldn’t sell in a million years.

Jax made sure we didn’t have an angle to see, before opening it briefly, nodding at the contents with satisfaction and latching it shut.

“Everything good?” I asked from the pilot’s chair, pulling out the personal link cord from my neck to interface with the Kōmori with considerably more bandwidth and going over every bit of data in the memory banks.  

“We’re good, you two sure earned your paycheck on this gig,” Jax grinned, pulling himself into the engineer’s chair and looking around the cockpit with a rueful envy on his face. “Nyova, these Arasaka leeches have nice ships.”

“That they do. Controls are all hacked and I’ve spoofed the transponder. We should be able to pull it and chuck it overboard. They’re scheduled to only relink to Arasaka orbital assets eight hours after they’re on their way back to Earth.”

“Stellar stuff, V.” He tapped his suit controls and the eddies flowed to my account. “Now, no offense, but-”

“Yes, Hollow and I should go to the Vanta and be on our merry way back to Tycho with Zandi whilst you and Luthando take the package and the Kōmori to a clandestine landing pad somewhere on Luna.”

Jax smiled, “Burning stellar orbits, you are, V. Also never seen someone chop up a corpo AI like that.”

I waved off the compliments. “Part of the service you paid for.”

“Normally, we would’ve had to retrieve the package from the wreckage of a ship like this. Speaking of which, what loot do you want?”

“I’m already getting it. This AI had quite a bit of juicy intel on Arasaka that I’m going to be digesting for a while. Other than that, I think we’ll take half of the iron they were packing. It’s sure to be useful at some point.”

He held out a hand to me, which I grabbed.

“Pleasure doing business, V.”

“Anytime, Jax.”

8888888888888888888888888888888888888

After an inclination burn and a two hour orbit, the Vanta landed back in Tycho without any mess or fuss.

Our case of loot was waved through customs with little fanfare and we returned to our apartment in Tycho Heights.

Johnny did a fair job of nearly bungling his enthusiastic jump onto his bed, pushing off way too hard on the floor and nearly kissing the ceiling.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbled as he floated back down to land on the bed with a slight thump.

“Here’s your share,” I transferred half the eddies over for the gig.

He nodded in acknowledgment, his optics flashing, “I’m beat, gonna catch some shut eye.”

“Got some calls to make.”

“Give Vik my regards,” Johnny said idly, turning over and pulling a blanket over himself.

I laid down on my own bed and fully focused on cyberspace.

Standing beside the datapool, I gave some thought as to how I wanted to amend my avatar. With the speed of thought and data, I switched from my sling bikini through a half dozen other outfits, finding a niggling problem with each that made me adjust or move on entirely.

Finally, I just grabbed a digital version of the outfit Johnny had gotten me in meatspace, adjusting the top so it didn’t give the epic underboob show it did currently.

That done I opened a window into Lunar cyberspace and got to work navigating a sufficiently secure and high bandwidth connection back to Night City. This wasn’t as easy as just placing a holocall. Intersatellite connections between corps and nation states were heavily regulated and monitored by NetWatch, always on the lookout for ‘illegal’ activity or ‘rogue AIs’ trying to manipulate data flows.

It also didn’t help that Night City cyberspace was essentially the secret domain of the Tentacle AI, who had the mayor and goodness knows what else dangling on its fingers.

After running into a sixth dead end in a Soviet satellite, I gave up and shot Gakulu a quick text message.

He responded in a few minutes with a net address to a Highrider satellite in lunar orbit, which would bounce from the O’Neill 1 space station at the L5 Lagrange point, straight down into Night City.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I texted him back.

With that done, I was now looking through an ethereal digital window at the very familiar cyberspace expanse of Night City.

The lag became somewhat pronounced at this point, as the signal had a fair bit of distance to travel. However, it was easy to find my bearings and with a thought I had a connection straight to Vik’s Clinic in Watson.

There were two spyware daemons here that I only took the time to briefly identify before annihilating them easily.

I knew the computers in that clinic like the back of my hand, especially since I was also a minority investor in it. It had undergone an expansion in the last few months, with the clinic also taking over the ground floor of the building, where two ripperdoc students apprenticed under Vik’s stern eye and also dealt with any patient overflow.

Of course, Vik still practiced his trade in the basement, no matter how well his business was doing or how much eddies sat in his account.

I breezed through the firewall under ghost protocol digital stealth and engaged the camera of the large screen that Vik always watched his boxing matches on.

Sure enough I was treated to a view of Vik’s slouched form on his roller chair, gazing into the screen. He still looked good for a man of over 70 years old, though he had gotten a bit lazy with shaving of late, a slight beard forming along his jawline. His dark glasses reflected the screen and from his intense expression, which changed to the odd wince and grimace, it let me know he was particularly invested in watching the fight. 

A quick reference search indicated he was watching the Night City Heavyweight Cyber-Boxing Championship that was currently taking place, between the champion Ryde “The Blade” Tanaka and Iron Kade, the challenger.

“Ah, Vik, are you seriously going to make me come between you and your boxing match,” I chuckled.

I decided to split the difference, generating only a small box window in the upper right hand of the screen and projecting a realistic rendering of my current avatar set in against a backdrop of my NC mansion.

For a moment, Vik was so invested in the combo that Iron Kade was throwing that he didn’t even register the intrusion.

“Gah!”

He flinched back, briefly flailing his hands. His face was utterly priceless and I made sure to take a snapshot.

“Good to see you too, Vik,” I chuckled ruefully.

He clutched at his chest, breathing hard before regaining his composure. “V? V! Is that you?”

“Sure, there are runners out there that could do this, but honestly, who would have the balls to try? Knowing I would eventually find out.”

“Good point. What was the first thing you said to me after Konpeki?” he asked suspiciously.

“Besides, ‘Fuck’?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes.”

“I explained the hallucinations, ‘Blinding lights. It’s loud. I’m on stage and almost can’t breathe. I’m so damn full of hatred.’”

Vik breathed a sigh of relief and slapped the screen to pause the live boxing stream. “It’s really you. Fuckin’ chrome, V. You couldn’t have called a bit earlier?”

“You know what I did, Vik. Not about to bring that potential heat down on your head from those who would use my friends as weapons. I had to kill two spyware daemons in cyberspace that had their eyes on this building, one was NightWatch, the other Arasaka.”

“Typical corpo shit,” Vik groused. “I figured it was something like that. I contract Rogue to send a merc techie to sweep my shop for physical bugs on the regular.”

“I know, they were thorough and I’m not detecting anything either, so in that respect we are free to talk of… my circumstances at the moment.”

“Hell, kid. You look good, but I can’t really judge on a holo, last I heard you were on Crystal Palace for your last-”

I held up a hand to stop him. “To cut a very long story short, I’ve found the help I needed. I’m as cured as I can be.”

Vik sat back with folded arms, his old boxer’s arms bulging, whilst the right hand adorned with a ripper’s exoglove drummed on his left arm.

I knew that look, very well.

He was going over in his head just what could’ve saved me from the condition I had been in and only coming up with impossibilities from his own point of view. Yet, the fact that I was speaking to him at all, seemingly cured, stood in stark contrast to that.

“Kid… V… Do your old Ripper a huge favor. No dissembling and be straight with me. Of everyone on this planet, I know what the ins and out of your condition were. Just what the hell did you do?!”

I gave Vik a long stare, considering my options and most of all, what Vik had done for me. He was the one who had dug all the corpo implants out of me after I had been fired from Arasaka, replacing everything pro bono until I could pay him back. He was my second best friend in the new life I had built for myself as an Edgerunner. He knew me in a way that was probably more than just doctor-patient. He had put me back together after Deshawn’s bullet to the skull, after Jackie’s death, after Johnny and the Relic had been jammed into my brain. Only to watch helplessly as I faced down the specter of the limited life he had been able to give me.

I knew he stupidly blamed himself for not being able to save me from that specter.

If only he had been a better doctor, had better equipment, had better training, but he was just a Ripper in NC, not a world-class neurosurgeon with billions of eddies in equipment behind him.

He was like my… father of this life.

I didn’t need to look to the side or move, as I threw up towering firewalls around Vik’s computers and systems in cyberspace.

“You realize by now that my storming of Arasaka Tower was not done just for a last hurrah, to go out with a bang. I went there because it housed a local terminal of the Mikoshi aggregate server. Mikoshi was a system that housed an AI built in the mid 2010s called Soulkiller.”

“I heard those rumors, even as a teenager,” Vik nodded.

“Soulkiller is an AI originally programmed by Alt Cunningham of ITS, but Arasaka kidnapped her and suborned it completely to their purposes. I’m not sure what her original intent with it was, but what matters is what it does - it destructively scans any human mind and generates a digital engram of that mind. That is what Johnny was on the Relic and he was not the only mind imprisoned in Mikoshi. Over the decades Saburo Arasaka had Soulkiller harvest thousands of netrunners and anyone he considered too valuable to lose to death, including many of his enemies.

“Now, to bring my problem to an end. I needed to essentially disentangle my own mind from Johnny’s engram, which the Relic was forcefully pushing through. The only way to achieve that was in Mikoshi. Waiting for me there was the evolved hybrid AI of Alt Cunningham herself, who had digitized herself in 2013. She used her own refined version of Soulkiller on me, separating me from Johnny in the process.”

“Turning you into an engram, killing you,” Vik said woodenly and I could feel the glare through his dark glasses.

“I had complete continuity of consciousness during the process. I jacked myself into Mikoshi, submerged myself in the coolant fluid around the server and woke up instantly in cyberspace, job done. However, it wasn’t until then that Alt could do a full medical scan on my body and she realized the extent of what the Relic had done. I could return to my body, but my engram was at this point completely foreign to the meat. The Relic nanites had recoded the DNA, the brain, almost everything to host Johnny. Once again, I’d be returning to a ticking timer on my life. Roughly six months at most.”

“Fuck, V,” Vik rubbed his face as he took all that in. “So, in these last six months you went all in on the big leagues. Did gigs all over the world, got your mansion, lived the high life with Judy, invested in the Afterlife, my clinic… thanks for that by the way.”

I nodded, “You’re welcome, you had popped up on Zetatech’s radar. They were planning to buy you out, straight up hostile takeover. I convinced the middle-management corpo responsible that it would be in his best interest to stop pursuing it.”

Vik chuckled, “No doubt with terminal consequences if he pushed the matter. Let’s not get sidetracked, you clearly made another plan. If your body was rejecting you, there’s definitely neurosurgery on the nano scale that could fix that.”

“Which costs a ridiculous amount of eddies that would even make One-Percenters blink and think about it. I did my research, Vik.” I wasn’t about to tell him that I would’ve gotten that surgery for free, as payment for my critical service to Myers and the NUSA. If there was one lesson that Solomon Reed had managed to impart to me, then there were some secrets that just couldn’t be told. “Not to mention, I also learned a possible side-effect would be to render me utterly unable to use cyberware. They’d have to rip it all out and clone full ‘ganic replacements.”

“Which given your enemies, might as well have been a death sentence anyway,” Vik said grimly.

“So I turned to the places where the cutting edge of research happened.”

He snorted, “Don’t couch it in fancy words, V. You went to a black clinic.” As much as Vik would’ve drooled over the Highrider clinic’s technology, they practiced a distinctly different ethos of medicine that were at odds with the oath that he had taken.

“I knew what I was walking into Vik, I’ve taken precautions. I’m their guinea pig, yes, but I’m also holding onto the ace that could bring it all crashing down. Besides, it’s in their interest not to fuck me over, given the problem I’m also helping them solve.”

A gesture and the upload began. “I’m putting an encrypted file on your system that will upload to your own Agent. To unlock it you need to use the words I spoke at Jackie’s ofrenda. It will tell you everything you need to know.”

Vik’s eyes glowed behind his sunglasses as he accepted the download.

He sat back and I could literally feel him unlocking the file. 

I was still getting used to this new sense I had of data that was slowly unlocking to the very core of my being.

“Holy shit, V,” he said after just twenty seconds of reviewing it. “You- you- you-” He was utterly at a loss for words, his mouth slightly slack jawed as he read the file that demonstrated the true end of the mortal condition. His head twitched left to right as he continued speed reading the file in his optics.

Finally, he bowed his head. There was way too much to properly read and digest within the bounds of the conversation, but he got the gist of it.

“Fuck, V. Who… who has this? Who did you give this to?”

“I can’t tell you. Those who own the clinic have a plan to make sure this doesn’t cause too much chaos and disruption. I can assure you that it will not be the sole province of one corp or nation. You are part of that plan. Get yourself a new nanolathe, Vik and study hard.”

He cradled his head in his hands, clearly fighting his own internal battle. “I should just… delete this. V, you’ve handed me something worse than a thousand nukes!”

“This needs to happen, Vik. The sins of your generation and the one before are catching up to humanity and if we’re to survive in any appreciable form, Relic 3.0 must spread far and wide, to everyone.”

He looked up and ripped his glasses off, his eyes staring at me, a raw naked fear shining in them.

“V…”

Hearing his voice and the emotion in just that syllable of my name almost broke me.

Vik might seem like just a back-alley ripper who was keeping his head down and not making waves in the world, besides fixing up mercs and doing pro-bono work occasionally for the underprivileged and new mothers under the poverty line. He only spoke of his boxing career in his twenties, but no one who had lived through the Time of the Red was ignorant of the greater existential dangers that were kept at bay by the Blackwall.

Butcher sent me a data stream from an exterior security cam, drawing my attention to movement outside of Vik’s clinic in the back alley.

There was a young woman approaching the stairs leading down into the basement clinic, walking with a dazed hurry that showed she wanted to sprint, but was keeping herself in check.

She hopped down the stairs, her bun of light blonde hair bobbing with each step.

She steeled herself, waved her hand over the security scanner and practically ripped open the hyperalloy security gate with a rattling clatter as it slid away in its runners.

“V?” Misty Olzsweski tentatively asked into the empty room of the clinic, her green eyes searching and then she saw Vik.

With a gesture and manipulation of Vik’s system, I enlarged my image and pushed the screen’s volume.

“I’m here, Misty.”

The owner of Misty’s Esoterica and the third friend I’d made in my new life as an Edgerunner walked tentatively into the scan range of the camera.

Her hair was the same as ever, if slightly more under control, but her improved means had seen her apparently go for some biosculpting. Gone were the slightly chubby cheeks, jowls and freckles, to be replaced with a sharp edge to her jaw and cheeks, with only a few artistically placed tiny moles on an otherwise flawless smooth skin. In keeping with her goth theme, her skin was almost parchment white, contrasted sharply by the spiked choker around her neck. Her eyes were surrounded by thick black makeup, emphasizing the distinctly soul piercing look in them.  

Complementing this was her clothes, which was a shoulder-baring black closed jacket, with a matching mini-skirt and platform shoes that didn’t look comfortable at all to walk in, but she somehow always managed.

Jackie probably wouldn’t have cared about it. He had loved her as she was, but he was still a guy in the end. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you caught me,” I said ruefully. “Let me guess, your Tarot?”

She nodded, “I was just reading for a client, when I suddenly had this overwhelming instinct to read my own Tarot. I didn’t even need to finish and I ran here… It’s really you.”

“It’s me, Misty,” I confirmed with a smile.

From her pocket, she pulled out a Tarot card - The Star.

“It symbolizes hope, renewal and guidance after a period of hardship. It brings the light to illuminate the darkness, the exposure of secrets, it also brings healing.”

As usual she was unnervingly correct. “Yes, I’m alive and the Sword of Damocles no longer hovers over my head.”

Misty pulled out another card, “Death - inverted. V, in your context, that can only mean one thing and probably explains why Vik looks like you just pulled the world from under his feet.”  

“He can explain the specifics, Misty. Do keep it quiet please.”

She turned the card around to face herself and shook her head, her eyes closing in disbelief. “V, it’s inverted for me as well.”

Misty had given me enough readings and I had learned through sheer osmosis. It more than likely meant she would, in time, accept the Relic 3.0.

“That’s… good I suppose?”

Her shoulders slumped and she looked at me with a weary affection. “Really V, only you. You don’t call or even visit for months. Then you go and become an international headline at the Crystal Palace and now you burst back into our lives like a sledgehammer.”

“Sorry,” I winced, giving a helpless shrug.

She waved me off. “Don’t worry about it and I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Judy.”

That hit me in the heart, but I had accepted that our paths would diverge. It hadn’t been easy for her to watch my condition deteriorate in the past six months. My time had been increasingly taken up by my international gigs, biz investments, moving into the mansion and secretly in the background, putting the plan in motion that had seen the creation of Relic 3.0 and the negotiations with the Highriders. It all only served to create even more emotional distance between us. In her eyes, I had been putting down even more roots into Night City - a place she wanted to leave.

I would always love her, but our respective choices had not given us the happily ever after. 

Even with my terminal condition being a thing of the past, it wouldn’t do much to address the core issues behind our parting of ways.

Night City had chewed her up - her best friend Evelyn’s suicide, her well intentioned actions to help the dolls of NC leading to just more death, the constant grind of tuning smut braindances for the Mox, the day to day violence. Even if I dropped everything and showed up at her doorstep in Oregon, I’d be bringing all that trauma back to her. I’d be the embodiment of what she’d sought to escape.

“Yes, well,” I swallowed down the emotion bubbling up from my core and rubbed a stray digital tear from my eye. “I guess the old saying of ‘true love comes to die in Night City’ is proven once again. Silly me, thinking I would be the exception to that.”

I shook my head, “Vik, how long before you can be my ripper again?”

He was shook out of his own internal struggles and blinked at me. “Oh, well, given this… I’d need to hit up some contacts, get the latest Raven Gemini manual and specs. Study that and then look at your specs. Then see if I can get a parts source going. Three weeks, at least. Also a state of the art nanolathe is going to bust my bank, V.”

“Well, I guess it's my turn to give you a loan.”      

“The waiting list for that is going to be a pain in the ass, V. We’d be lucky to get one within a year.”

“There are ways and means, Vik, you let me worry about that part.”

Butcher prompted my attention towards the approaching data signature of a NetWatch ‘runner.

Fucking gonks.

“Listen, I need to go. NetWatch is poking around. It was really good to see you guys.”

“Yeah, yeah, go already. I’ll get cracking on this.” Vik waved.

Misty waved, “Have fun on the moon, V.” 

She cheekily slapped the power button on the screen, severing that connection.

As much as it would be fun to remind her that I had more eyes than just that, I hurriedly pulled back, playing along.

The NetWatch runner was left high and dry as he watched my firewalls around Vik’s Clinic wink out, leaving only the standard civilian grade security.

Back in the Relic datafortress, a gesture to the window above my datapool severed the connection.

I hugged my legs, my toes playing in the digital water, focusing on the warm feeling swelling in my being.

My mind was focused on the happiness of reconnecting to my friends and occupied with a single thought and emotion…

The relief that I was still capable of being human to this extent. 

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A/N: Ah, Vik and Misty, the two who truly are on V's side, no matter the ending. Enjoy your weekends chooms and stay awesome.

May the Force be with you.

May the 4th, Star Wars day, has come and gone. I felt like we were overdue for a bit of imagery. This time with the help of newly released HiDream. The first is from the events in the cave against the Inquisitor, whilst the second was just a relative freeform prompt that I let the AI spread its wings on; Ahsoka having an overdue audience in person with the togrutan monarch.

I really like HiDream as I had to do few touchups to fix mistakes, once again related to eyes and the amount of fingers. Naturally, the clothes Ahsoka is wearing in the cave is not specific/canon and I let the AI determine that. It gets very hinky when you're too specific.

The Force Wills - Chapter 128

Asajj closed the door to the captain’s cabin of the Omen and leaned against it wearily.

It galled her that she would show such weakness, but being a locus for Talzin’s presence even with the ichor vat’s help took a toll. Add the fact that the Mother of the Nightsisters had channeled enough power to worm her way through Maul’s natural defenses…

She wanted nothing more in this moment than to also find a bed and welcome the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

She pushed herself off the door, firming her resolve and took a few steps to enter the Omen’s cockpit.

The harsh blue glare of tumbling hyperspace greeted her and in the middle was a small island of stability, with Ahsoka seated in the pilot’s chair, her left hand browsing through a star chart and studying it intently.

By the void, how could she stand it?

Asajj had never had a problem with hyperspace travel, until she had set foot in this novel cockpit. She had travelled the galaxy since she had become Dooku’s apprentice, in every size of ship she could care to name, from the smallest starfighter to the biggest dreadnought. Yet when confronted with the sight of raw hyperspace with seemingly no solid barrier separating her from it - it felt like her spine wanted to jump out of her back.  

She pulled inward, calling on the Force to remove the annoying stupid fear. It was an illusion…

“How’s Maul?” Ahsoka asked, frowning in annoyance at the star chart.

Asajj slipped into the co-pilot seat, equilibrium restored, “Sleeping, the first proper rest he's had for a very long time.”

“Are you going to keep him asleep for the entire journey back to Dathomir?”

“No, Mother Talzin will rejoin us when I have rested enough and regained my strength. She’ll speak with Maul later. He may have bested his base desires and the Dark Side for now, but it’ll be an ongoing process to keep it that way.”

“Good.”

“What are you looking for so intently?”

“A suitable repair station,” Ahsoka sighed in annoyance. “Lotho Minor’s acid rain was one thing, but Maul’s uncontrolled Force expression damaged a number of structural components. As it is now, I don’t think the Omen could survive another hyperspace entry. It was already riding on the blade’s edge leaving the Lotho system.”

“Then we better drop out either where we can repair or buy a new ship.”

“What about the Dreadveil?”

Asajj shook her head, “The Nightsister’s mission is a three day journey from our current position. It would depend how well it went or whether she’s in a position to potentially rescue us. No, we can’t count on that.”

“Then our only option is Lutrillia,” Ahsoka’s hands danced on the interface before the holo and description of the planet in question shimmered into existence.

It was a mostly barren planet of flat plains, tundra, scattered oases and only a single minor ocean in the lower hemisphere. She inwardly groaned at the wildly divergent temperature readings. The native Lutrillians were ostensibly part of the Republic, but they had no Senate representation, falling under the Yarith senator representation block. More importantly for the security of their endeavor, the planet had a low Holonet rating, with only a single repeater in orbit, which was only used by the various Lutrillian City Councils.

“Will they be able to fix this ship?”

Ahsoka nodded, “It’s only structural work, I could do it myself with the right materials and a workshop available.”

“Good, how long?”

“Twenty hours there, assuming we find a good spaceport, another few days of repair work. If complications don’t present themselves.”   

“Will they?” Asajj asked intently.

Ahsoka’s mouth twitched in humor, “There’s always that possibility, Asajj.”

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The Omen burst out of hyperspace into high orbit of Lutrillia.

Immediate warnings were thrown up by its computers, complaining about structural integrity and recommending immediate drydock time. Ahsoka slapped the holos away in annoyance, clearly concentrating on her flying. Asajj also sensed the togruta’s presence swelling in the Force, practically channeling it into the ship itself.

“If this atmo entry goes wrong, you grab Maul and take the escape pod. Make sure you land on one of the platform-cities.”

Asajj nodded burying her apprehension and casting off fear.

Lutrillia’s plains were home to burrowing predators simply called nippers and chompers. Anything standing still for long enough would soon be inundated with the two types of creatures that would eat almost everything, including people and the hulls of the ships they flew in on.

Asajj had studied the database on both animals and while Dathomir’s fauna were more deadly, the Lutrillian beasts made up for it with sheer numbers, their ambush tactics and sheer resilience in the face of a very hostile environment. No one wanted to face an entire herd of nippers jumping out of the ground from every direction, nor face down a group of massive chompers with their massive jaws of serrated teeth.

She cleared her mind as the Omen began to shudder with the heat of atmospheric entry.

The shields were up to full but the stresses of deceleration were still there.

Then the hull made a noise that she had never heard a ship make before during entry.

“What was that?!”

“Lateral strut deformation, I’ve got it,” Ahsoka said, her eyes closed, shifting her hands smoothly on the yoke.

Asajj wished the stupid cockpit would be a little less immersive, as the plasma flames glowed from violet to a bright orange that she had to squint against.

The thumps and shuddering got steadily worse over the next few minutes.

Finally, the relative velocity indicator showed the ship rapidly passing below ten times the local speed of sound and the Omen speared through the streaks of thin upper atmospheric clouds.

“Not out of the woods until we set this thing down,” Ahsoka gritted her teeth, as the ship was now pushed around by turbulent high altitude winds.

She pushed down on the yoke, trading altitude for more speed.

Asajj eyes widened as the Omen was now easily pushing over 1600 kph in the atmosphere.

Ahsoka triggered something with the ship’s shields and soon they were hitting 1900 kph!

“Shouldn’t we be slowing down?!”

“The longer we spend in the air, the more chance there is of something going wrong. I’m holding the ship together fine for now, but that could change. Get on the radio and get us landing clearance.”

Asajj ignored the shaking and rattling ship around her, tapping on the comlink holos.

“Glintspire spaceport, this is transport Bes’uliik. Request emergency landing clearance.”

“Bes’uliik, this is Glintspire Control, we copy that. What is the nature of your emergency?”

Asajj didn’t see a need to lie, “Structural damage, we’re barely holding together, but no damage to propulsion, should be able to make a controlled landing.”

“Roger that, Bes’uliik. We will be scrambling emergency crews as a precaution. You are cleared for Pad 3640.”

“Thank you, Control. We see the beacon, locking on.”

The forward HUD lit up in the distant horizon, showing a flashing signal.

In mere minutes, the first view of the massive platform-city crept over the horizon.

All of Lutrillia’s 900 million population was housed on such platform-cities, mounted on a combination of gigantic repulsors, wheels and tracks, which could be pulled up and lowered as needed during maintenance cycles. The cities were always moving because of the native lutrillian’s nomadic culture, which itself stemmed from the survival need of keeping in motion due to the predatory fauna. However, even the mighty platform-cities had to keep moving because a nipper and chomper infestation could eventually destroy a city. Which was why the most valuable commodity on the world was the drive parts and equipment to keep a platform-city in good repair and on the move.

Glintspire wasn’t the largest city on the planet, but it was ranked in the top ten. It was nearly 19 square kilometers of moving city in a hexagonal shape, the base of the platform standing sixty meters above the tundra, whilst the densely clustered buildings rose up to 400 meters into the sky. Protected from the punishing icy winds by shields that glinted silver in the atmosphere.

There wasn’t enough space to truly have any architectural flair or expression, but the lutrillians did put some impressive reliefs on their boxy buildings - each telling some sort of historical folk tale.

The Omen, its transponder now disguised as the Bes'uliik, circled around the city from south to east, before it slowed down dramatically, slid over the city shields and came to hover above the spaceport on its eastern side.

The rattling of the ship died down significantly as it began sinking towards the designated pad, which was housed in an recessed port within the wide spaceport building itself.

Asajj marginally relaxed when the ship folded into its landing configuration without issue and touched down with a thump.

At least, right until the pad itself began sinking further into the city, revealing it was actually an elevator for landed ships.

Ahsoka quickly began running through the shutdown sequence, most of which she was doing with her skill in Mecha Deru.

The shaft they were travelling down had numerous turrets that almost looked like weapon emplacements but a quick scan showed them to be much more benign in purpose, throwing out fire retardant liquids to any ship on fire.

The elevator stopped then began moving horizontally into a tunnel, through which they passed a procession of hangar bays filled with a variety of ships.

Eventually the Omen was brought into an empty hangar bay where nearly a dozen figures in emergency gear and equipment were waiting.  

“Well, let’s not keep them in suspense,” Ahsoka said, putting the ship into full standby and switching off the holo interior of the cockpit.

They needn’t have worried, because by the time they had exited the Omen’s airlock, there was only a single lutrillian waiting for them.

He was a stocky example of his species, with coarse snow-white fur, mottled with black patches, and deep-set eyes, which were squinting into a large datapad and occasionally looking up at the Omen as they approached him. He wore a starship mechanic’s overall and a belt heavily weighed down with tools. His shoulder also had a rather bulky heat lamp clipped to it.

“Welcome to Lutrillia,” he said uncomfortably. He was clearly not used to being the courteous point of first contact for off-world visitors. “My- my name is Mech- Mechanic Vorn Skell.”

“A pleasure, Mechanic Skell,” Ahsoka smiled courteously, thankfully doing away with all the Jedi bowing. “I’m Beweza, and this is my colleague Anje. You’re assigned to this bay?”

“Yes, and- and a few others, but when I saw your ship I had to come immediately. We- we don’t get many like it here in the southern reaches.” His beady brown eyes took in the ship’s sleek lines with clear appreciation.

“She is a beauty,” Ahsoka declared, adopting a mask of pride, playing up a spacer persona. “I hope you’ll be able to help me get her to 100% again.”

“It’s certainly possible, though I’ve never seen damage like this,” Skell held up the large datapad, showing a scan of the Omen. “It almost looks like something you carried blew up, but the stress patterns make no sense…”

“Don’t worry about it, Skell,” Ahsoka said intently, the Force laced her words and fell like a subtle blanket on the mind of the lutrillian.

“Ah, I won’t w- worry about it,” he shrugged.

“So how much will it cost and how long?”

His wide mouth twisted with uncertainty, “D-difficult to say. Some of these damaged struts look to be in hard to reach places. I can already tell you that we’re going to have to remove the starboard nacelle-wing entirely. Just doing that is going to take most of a full day shift. 

“Give me your best guess, Skell.”

“Three days…” he said eventually, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s working with two others and droids. L- labor cost alone for that is 4500. We will also have to fabricate replacements from scratch since we don’t have parts for a Kom’rk class ship, add another 6000.”

Asajj internally winced and really hoped that Ahsoka hadn’t come on this trip empty handed. Talzin had only budgeted half that in discretionary spending when she had dispatched her to the south and most of that was meant for Nightsister Kozri on her mission.

“That will not be a problem, you may proceed. I will also pitch in with the repairs, as I know my own ship and are Mechanic level 3 certified.”

“We- we don’t usually like the customer also working with us, it c- can interfere with the team-”

Ahsoka held up a palm, “I will be the soul of discretion. Things will go faster, Skell.”

“They’ll go faster,” he said absently, his eyes going slightly glassy as another Mind Trick was performed.

“Another thing to note, Mechanic Skell, is that we’re carrying delicate and confidential cargo. None of your team may enter the interior of the ship. If any work needs to be performed there, I will do so myself.”

“That- that will be fine.” He held out the datapad. “Will you be paying in cred token or by account?”

Ahsoka pulled a thousand credit chit from a belt pocket and flicked it over. “That’s a deposit to get you started.”

He caught it deftly, “I’ll- I’ll call my crew to begin right away.”

When the mechanic had left, speaking into a personal comlink, Asajj gave her ‘colleague’ a flinty stare. “Three days?”

“It’s a long time, considering who we have to keep stable and content,” Ahsoka admitted. “But we have no choice in the matter. How long from here to the rendezvous?”

“Two days.”

“And it would take another eight days to get back to your home. Perhaps this pause is a blessing in disguise. It wouldn’t do for our cargo to become truly unstable whilst you’re stuck with it in hyperspace.”

Asajj had to concede that her Jedi acquaintance had a point. “We have to also plan for the worst case.”

She didn’t like to think about it. Talzin would definitely need to give her agreement first, but having Maul on the loose with what he knew would be utterly disastrous.

Ahsoka snorted with a wry chuckle. “That it should come down to this. The fate of everything hangs not in the balance of some grand battle of starships or an epic duel of blades, but rather the battle in the heart and spirit of one man.”

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Maul awoke but long experience had him remain absolutely still in the… rather comfortable bed.

He tried to remember when he had last experienced such a thing.

It was aboard the Scimitar, flying under cloak towards Naboo.

His old master was always one to seemingly appreciate the finer things in life and the sleeping quarters aboard the ship was no different.

A bed that conformed to every curve of the body smartly, duvet and linens made of the finest cantonican golden silk.

Normally, Maul would have simply slept in the pilot’s chair. His training and every instinct demanded that he be ready at any moment, no matter if he was in hyperspace or cloaked. Yet something about that journey to Naboo had been different. It was only with the benefit of hindsight that he now realized that he had experienced the ominous premonition of events to come.

He had instead retired to the luxurious quarters to sleep there.

What would it hurt? He had thought.

Then the infiltration into the Theed palace and confronting Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Maul had fought as he had been conditioned and taught - precision, aggression, and control. Easily holding his own against two Jedi, a seasoned Master and his padawan who was probably close to becoming a knight in his own right. It was immediately clear that he was superior to both, neither having ever truly fought an opponent wielding a saber staff. He knew the Jedi had long since abandoned the weapon, except for those who guarded the Coruscant Temple. That inexperience haunted them both in that battle.

Then the moment.

The moment Jinn had faltered, leaving the opening for the hilt of the saberstaff to smash into his face, before a lightning turn with the reverse blade ran straight through the Jedi’s chest.

He remembered Kenobi’s scream in sheer despair and disbelief as his master collapsed to the plasma chamber’s floor.

Maul felt the triumph, the utter satisfaction as he had whirled around to regard Kenobi, stuck as he was behind the force field.

Then came the pride, the arrogance.

What was this padawan against the one who had just felled his master?

It would be over in moments.

They had both paced, waiting for the timed field to come down, the suspense building and the eagerness to join battle.

The field came down and Maul didn’t face a mere padawan.

The flurry of strikes and blows were incredible.

His heart had soared as the padawan proved to be the stronger and more resilient of the two Jedi, but his inexperience cost him.

Kenobi was so focused on the contest of blades that he left himself open to the Force Push.

Losing his saber and plunging down the reactor shaft.

Maul casually kicked the Jedi’s weapon down and swung his blade against the side of the shaft…

Kenobi is beaten, he had thought.

He savored every moment of the enemy’s helplessness and despair as the Jedi hung from the protruding edge of a shield emitter in the shaft.

But it had all been a feint.

Maul railed at the following memory, he didn’t want to relive it. He didn’t want to acknowledge what his pride had cost. In his arrogance he had underestimated Kenobi… NO!

Yet it seemed his subconscious would not be denied as he was propelled forcefully through the event.

Kenobi pulled himself up, using a Force Pull leveraged on his own body! It was augmented with Speed as well and Maul could do nothing but turn around as fast he could.

Kenobi had also summoned his fallen master’s weapon in the blurring somersault, the green blade flashed.

Maul had felt a wrenching burning sensation through his waist, he smelled the ash of his own clothing being carbonized, then utter PAIN!

The world spun as he fell, bouncing hard against the reactor shaft with his own head, then he felt his own waist and legs bounce by as well…  and together they fell down and down…

“Stop pretending to be asleep, Maul,” said the voice of the Nightsister, standing a few meters behind him.

He mercifully pulled out of the accursed memory of his own failure. What was this? He was a warrior. He didn’t wallow in self-pity. He moved on!

His eyes opened, only seeing the side of the cabin he had been moved to.

He sat up fluidly, bringing his new legs to touch the floor and threw off the blanket.

Ventress stood with folded arms and regarded him with alert suspicious eyes. He didn’t need to look at her lightsaber hilts to know they were on her hips, thereby not betraying his thoughts as he evaluated whether he could Force Pull both of them to his hands.

No, it would be foolish. Her strength was substantial and his skill, honed to perfection over years, had atrophied. His body and mind might be restored but his command and facility over it and the Force had suffered badly.

He could feel the disembodied presence of his mother nearby as well and the Jedi was outside the ship, along with a group of alien creatures.

“Where are we?” he asked slowly, even as he struggled to sense further and find his own answer.

“Glintspire City, on the world of Lutrillia. We had to stop here for some repairs after your little display of power on the troop deck.”

He glared at the scorn he sensed in her words. “I have killed for less, Nightsister.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

She gestured to a small desk with a switched off terminal screen. On it was a tray filled to the brim with a variety of food that looked and smelled… amazing.

“You need to eat properly. Between Mother Talzin and Ahsoka’s healing, you’ve been given a reprieve, but that is wearing off.”

In that moment, as if it had been waiting for it, his stomach gnawed and twisted in demand.

As much as he despised showing this weakness, it was as if his entire mind was wiped clean and had only one focus. He extended his hand to the tray, calling on the Force.

The tray twitched as his control slipped, his anger at the failure crystallized his will and moments later the tray hovered through the air into his grasp.

It took all his will to use the utensils and not just shove the food into his mouth. He would die rather than act like a mad animal again.

The first bite, the taste and chewing it. 

The memories surged forth of his last meal as a proper thinking sentient aboard the Scimitar, the few hours before it left hyperspace.

It had been a standard ration from the ship’s consumables, though Palpatine had much more luxurious food aboard, he hadn’t had the patience or the knowledge to properly prepare it. This food was clearly not from a ration, he could taste and sense the hand that had prepared it with care, attention to detail and flavorful flourishes that only came from an experienced chef. He somehow doubted that Nightsister Ventress was the one who had made it, which meant…

The old paranoia instincts flared.

He was eating food prepared by the Jedi Ahsoka.

Had she poisoned it?

Weaved in some cunning binary agent to force his compliance?

Was she as a Jedi even capable of such cunning?

His thoughts went in circles even as he damningly continued eating.

His stomach and instincts would not be denied.

The memories of his time in that cave on Lotho Minor were there, but dulled, distant, mostly a blurring landscape of time with little specifics, but the one difference was when he had feasted on flesh. Things slowed down, the madness abating for moments as pleasure had filled his senses, relief at a filled stomach.   

He gritted his teeth on a delectable morsel of marinated nerf meat, banishing the memories with force and continued his meal.

“While you’re eating we should talk about more specifics of your condition,” Ventress sighed wearily, pulling out the small chair next to the desk and sitting down with crossed legs. “When Mother Talzin and I built your new prosthetics, we made it as fully functional as possible, with an aim to promote your sanity and long term stability.”

Maul paused his eating as he took in those words and looked down at his own biometallic waist wearily. “I… I feel nothing there.”

“For the moment, we have disabled things until we could explain properly,” Ventress explained awkwardly and very uncomfortably. “Think of the armored exterior shell of your waist as clothing, it can open and reveal your capacity for using a Refresher. I’m not sure how you managed on Lotho Minor, most likely the junker who fitted you in that prosthetic droid made some arrangement for waste products.”

Maul’s mind whirled and struggled to find purchase. “Are you saying you’ve given me-”

“Yes,” Ventress said quickly, her entire bearing now stiff and was that embarrassment he was sensing? “Talzin and I collaborated on… the design. If you have any problems we can… adjust things.”

He tried to remember the last time he had given any thought to females and the desires of flesh.

Maybe when he was a boy a few times, but then Sidious had come. In the many years under his apprenticeship he was taught only in respect of using those natural desires in others as leverage to accomplish an assassination. There were few sentients in the galaxy who could keep their guard up in the middle of copulation, after all.

Never had he thought of … partaking.

Between Sidious’ training and the Dark Side, it left almost no room for such thoughts.

He firmly banished the nascent appreciation for Ventress’ form that was naturally bubbling to the surface of his mind, refusing to actually look at her in response to that desire.

“I doubt it will be necessary,” he said firmly, continuing his meal.

She nodded, a hint of relief crossing her features. “It’s an emulation of all the natural male dathomiri functions. The surface of the legs will transmit touch with no delay, you’ve managed balance with simple walking, but you’ve yet to demonstrate running or more complex maneuvers. You will have to go through a period of adjustment and training before you can even think of holding your own in a lightsaber duel.”

Maul inwardly cursed as the truth of the matter hit him, she was correct.

His old combat arts for the saberstaff, honed over countless hours and years under the unforgiving eye of Sidious would be practically useless now. The gait of the legs, their weight, it changed everything. Did Ventress and Talzin design it that way on purpose? To throw an obstacle in his way, create that weakness so he would need to rely on them?

More than likely, that was precisely their motivation.

Another chain.

He fought with the urge to hurl the food knife in his hand through Ventress’ eye.

He could see how that would go.

He wouldn’t be able to impart enough force, she’d see it coming easily, never mind sensing it and stop the attack contemptuously.

All he’d achieve was them layering more chains on him.

Finally, he took the last bite of the delicious meal, put the tray and utensils aside. “I am your prisoner then, it seems.”

Ventress shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Maul. Sidious is the one who wants you dead. I gave you the memory of the miraluka assassin, we have her body on the lower deck. Ahsoka severed your bond with him in such a way that he could only conclude that the assassination was successful. If you show yourself and attract his attention again, he will want to know how he was fooled. He will capture you and torture it out of you. He was your master, how will that go, Maul? Do you want that?”

He felt his hands clench and the fear that he had lived with for most of his life rose to the surface.

Sidious himself.

How Mother Talzin, Ventress or this Jedi could ever think to oppose that being was beyond his grasp.

He stood alone with the power of a thousand years of Sith knowledge behind him, perhaps even more.

Maul remembered as a young teenager, catching a fleeting glimpse of a room in Sidious’ hidden complex in Coruscant’s industrial works sector. It was solely devoted to a glowing red pyramid, mounted on a dias. It was only later in the scraps of lore that his master taught, that he understood it to be an ancient Sith holocron which was thousands of years old.

He knew how Sidious fought with the lightsaber, with the Force itself.

He knew how Sidious tortured.

There was no resistance possible.

You yielded and broke. If Sidious still had a use for you, you were reassembled just enough to function in the intended role and purpose, after which death would come, if you were lucky.

“No,” he answered at last.

“Then for your own sake, do not oppose us. Join us.”

Maul shook his head, this was insanity, foolishness and impossibility.

Fight Sidious?

The sheer notion of it was the height of folly.

“If the plan has reached this stage, it is far too late. He sits as the head of the Republic, does he not?” He had just been nominated for it when Maul had made the journey to Naboo.

Asajj nodded.

“Too much is in motion, his contingencies will flow around whatever obstacles or setbacks you place in his path.”

She grinned at him with a knowing glint. “That is precisely the idea.”

That brought some pause to his thoughts. “What are you talking about, Nightsister?”

“There is a design, Maul. One created by Mother Talzin, Jedi Ahsoka and another whom I will not yet name. I don’t know the full details myself, because I don’t need to know. I can, however, trust that they want to save their own skins as much as I want to save my own. I am content to play my part. There is more that can be told to you of this plan, if you cooperate, if you help, if you prove that you can be trusted to that extent.”

He hated this.

He was a weapon. A warrior. A blade to be wielded.

There was just him and the enemy. There was no intrigue, no mind games, no tricks.

He felt like he was stepping onto a battlefield with no weapon.

It was infuriating, that he had been reduced to this!

There was only one thing to do and it was something rather ironically that Sidious had trained him in rather effectively - adapt. If the enemy was too strong, lure them into a disadvantageous position that played to your own strengths and strike with no mercy.

He’d see what this unlikely alliance of enemies that had formed against Sidious had to offer and move on from there. That such a thing was even possible without attracting his old master’s gaze was already an amazing event. 

He held Ventress’ gaze for a long moment before adopting a mask of visible reluctance. “We will see. I’ll withhold judgment until I hear more from Mother Talzin. In the meantime,  I have one request.”

“What is it?”

He hated that he was about to admit to this, but it was becoming unbearable as he sat in the cabin. “I want to see the sky and stars over my head.”

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It wasn’t so easy as to just take a walk outside.

Maul understood from a young age that his tattooed visage was quite fearsome in the eyes of most sentients. Even Sidious had encouraged some adjustments to the tattoos on his face to enhance that aspect. It naturally came with the downside that he had to remain hooded when he didn’t want to be observed, which was then combined with the Force arts of stealth and certain technology to allow the infiltration of any fortress in the galaxy.

Now his true form would be even more memorable, as his prosthesis was utterly unique and quite intimidating in its own right.

Which was how he had to wait a further half an hour for the Jedi to return from a local clothing store with a tall beige robe in folded lutrillian style with a hood attached.

“Do you want to go out or not?” Tano asked him flatly, as he regarded the outfit with mild distaste. “Oh, should it have been in black?”

Maul grunted, pointedly not reacting to her prodding and donned the robe. “It will do.”

She turned to Ventress, “Make sure to put your lightsabers in your hidden pockets. There’ll be a thief who attempts to pickpocket your belt on level 59 before you reach the park elevator. This city is very crowded and while you can retrieve them easily, I’d prefer we avoid any adventures here and leave unnecessary traces of our passage.”

Ventress was donning her own auburn robe and quickly followed the Jedi’s advice and foresight.

Maul emerged from the Omen and into the large volume of the hangar bay.

That alone helped somewhat in relieving the interminable feeling that had settled on him ever since he had properly regained his sanity.

Yet more weakness!

He was Darth Maul!

He should inspire fear, not be the object of it.

Yet now should the utterly pathetic fear of enclosed spaces fall upon him.

His hands clenched in anger as he fought and railed against this new chain that the universe heaped upon him.

Why?

Why this?

He inwardly burned with humiliation. 

“Coming Zars?”

He glared and fumed as he hurried in Ventress’ wake towards the hangar bay exit.

Now, to anyone who asked, he was Zars Yath from Dathomir. It was a pre-arranged identity that Ventress had handed him, complete with an entire false history. He was now a Nightbrother mercenary who had been almost fatally injured on a mission for Talzin and the clan. 

A single turbolift ride later, which had him fighting his new fear again and they emerged into a bustling corridor of the spaceport.

Everywhere in sight, lutrillians.

Maul was severely tempted to just Force Push everyone out of his way just to make some space.

He gritted his teeth as he hurried awkwardly to Ventress’ side, as they both walked with the flow of the crowd. It was most fortunate that his new legs made him the tallest being in the corridor, keeping his head well above the press of bodies, keeping the worst of this claustrophobia at bay.

How he wished for his saberstaff or any lightsaber. Anything to keep this feeling of powerlessness at bay. Was this another of Talzin’s chains on him? It had to be. She and Ventress had been in his mind and body during the ritual, they would have ample opportunity and motive to do it.

They had to pause at a security and customs check-in, where he felt Ventress use the Force to facilitate their passing. Befuddling the lutrillian guard and the scanner.

The crowded conditions worked in their favor here and they passed through, exiting the spaceport.

They found the first bank of turbolifts and had to wait for a car going upward.

When one did arrive it was almost full to bursting point.

I’d be doing them all a favor by going on a rampage! Lessen this overcrowding problem a bit. He thought furiously.

He stepped inside, fighting and tearing at the chain of fear on his being with all his will.

Why did it not shatter?

It wormed around him, slithering out of his grasp, pushing on his mind and body.

He felt his brow begin to sweat, his hands straining, crushing into fists, flexing.

There must be a way.

Mercifully, the doors opened and they exited on what looked to be the highest floor of this building.

A lutrillian bumped into Ventress going the other way.

“So sorry, so sorry,” the being apologized with a cringe and quickly retreated into the throng of his kind passing through.

Maul latched on to the distraction, smirking as he felt the prophesied thief’s frustration and rage at being thwarted in stealing from an off-worlder.

Ventress stopped at a door being watched by a very bored lutrillian in a booth, who checked his terminal briefly.

“Space just opened up, that’ll be five credits each.” She quickly pulled out low denomination chits and paid. “Thank you, welcome to Glintspire Meadows.”

The doors slid open, revealing a small ramp and Maul felt the slight rush of turbulent air around his body.

He struggled not to break into a sprint and was seriously tempted to try using Force Speed, to the void with the potential consequences.

The hallway opened up and at last he stepped out.

Above him was a cool blue sky and a single bright sun lashing down its light and radiation.

He stumbled forward, catching onto a railing and just breathed deeply in relief, staring up into the seemingly endless sky above.

He tried putting out of his mind just how long it had been and actually somewhat succeeded. There was just him and the slightly chilly air nipping at his face, breathing it in.

It felt like freedom.

For so long, that word was utterly meaningless to his existence. Now it crashed into his being with the force of a meteor strike. He had been in bondage to Sidious for so long. Why was it that only now he truly felt the chains and yoke that the man had on him?

The answer came simply - it was the absence of them.  

His spirit felt like it wanted to take flight into the air.

Without Sidious’ bond, he recognized what his old master had been doing. Trapping him into an endless self-sustaining loop of anger, fear, then shame for his failure and weakness for falling to madness. Someone truly strong would’ve endured the junker’s imprecise surgery, would’ve overcome the pain and the maddeningly incorrect signals that were wired directly into his nervous system.

Maul was not strong. How could he be? The spirits of the Sith of old were probably laughing at him in derision. Defeated by a lowly padawan, defeated by junkers, defeated by his own rebellious body who couldn’t actually tolerate the prosthetic, falling into madness, which was just another defeat. A pathetic retreat into being an animal!

He opened his eyes, barely taking in the exotic flora of the park around him, carefully maintained by both hovering droid and lutrillian gardeners moving here and there. It was the first space in this city he had seen that was not crowded. Flowers of colors that he could and couldn’t see danced in the wind, the rustle of red leaves on trees as the low wind hissed through them. He could even feel the soft dew of grass underneath his artificial feet.

In the distance, beyond the mobile city’s glimmering pearl shield, the flat landscape slowly passed by, with only minor distant hills in sight as the city steadily crawled eastward on the equatorial latitude.

“Ask your questions, Maul.”

The harsh echoed multi-voice of his mother resounded to his right.

His hands, empowered with the Force, left finger dents in the railing as he looked in that direction.

Talzin was there in the open, Ventress casually leaning against the railing further down, her eyes glowing green. He looked around for any reaction from the nearby lutrillian gardeners or other park visitors, but none of them reacted to the sudden appearance of such an outlandish sight. One male lutrillian came walking by within a meter of Talzin, staring right through her and went on his way.

She laughed mockingly. “Did you really think I would be visible to them?”

“There is much I don’t know about the Nightsister arts,” he retorted.

“Consider this your first lesson, my son. We can escape the sight of anyone, with the only exception being those Jedi and Sith who are sufficiently powerful.”

“Such as Sidious.”

“If a Nightsister was able to hide from his senses then this galaxy would’ve been a very different place, Maul. I’d have slit that kin-killing nydak’s throat long ago for what he did on Dathomir when he took you. Now ask, my son, no question is forbidden. I sense your turmoil burning like fire.”

“Did you do this to me?”

Talzin folded her arms and walked to the edge of the park, staring out the stark desolate beauty of this world.

“No. My son, you’ve just spent more than a decade in a constant hell. No amount of healing, empowerment from the ichor, me or the Jedi, will ever remove that legacy. That is something only you can do for yourself.”

The railing groaned under his hands as it bent more, threatening to break under his strength. “How could I be so weak?”  he asked with gritted teeth.

“I challenge any to endure what you did and not be dead. You fail to realize that you, being here and now, on this world, completely unbeknownst to Sidious is a great victory. More than you can comprehend. For the first time, we have truly blinded his eyes to our own machinations. He moves on the mistaken conclusion that you are dead and now his plans will move on and build on that cracked foundation.”

 Maul couldn’t believe he was saying this, “It may work, mother. It would also depend on the Jedi’s foresight. How accurate is it?”

“As accurate as can be expected, her ability is not infallible. How it compares to Sidious’ is not easily put into words. She can explore the paths, navigate them and relate what she sees. Whether the future actually becomes that, is another matter entirely. I am only alive because of her. Dathomir, the Nightsisters and brothers also owe her their lives. She showed me the path of ruin and extermination we would’ve trodden otherwise.”

“Then I must ask her to do the same for me.”

“Be warned, you may not be pleased with what you see, my son. She merely told you of your immediate future should you continue the path of vengeance against Kenobi.”

“My pleasure is irrelevant, I will face whatever it is.” He glared at her intently. “Do you also counsel me to cast aside my revenge?”

“If the stakes had been different, then I would have encouraged you. He is your enemy and his victory over you casts a pall that will haunt your every action. Now, for the good of yourself and Dathomir, you must delay your quest for revenge. Our enemy is now technically in charge of the Jedi and if you move openly against them, you move openly against him. For in the end, he is the one you truly most fear, my son. That is what you must conquer.”

Talzin’s words might as well have been a lightsaber to the heart, so deeply into the truth they pierced.

He alone, of anyone in the galaxy, knew the strength of Sidious.

Knew how that man could fight with a lightsaber blade.

Knew how the Force Lightning from those fingers could scorch flesh from bone in moments if he wanted to, or prolong the agony for days afterwards.

Knew how his strength could rip right through your defenses, grabbing you to pull, crush or choke.

That was just how he could kill, but the mind behind that power was even worse, which could turn your life into a living purgatory and would enjoy every moment of it. 

He turned around and faced the door leading back to the cramped confines of the city.

The fear arose again, coiling up and threatening to choke, his heart began racing.

Without pause, he began walking.

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A/N: Imagining and getting into Maul's head was an experience. He's truly the story's ultimate survivor. The show could hardly delve into the sheer trauma he had and then shrugs it off. Not to mention the ugly practical implications for such body prosthesis. I tried to strike more of a balance here. Hope you enjoy the weekend and stay awesome folks!

The Force Wills - Chapter 127

The Inquisitor was grabbed by the Force Wave and propelled backward with bone crushing speed.

Her surprise lasted for a mere moment and she showed her training; slowing down, bleeding the momentum away, getting her body into an ideal position.

Her feet landed perpendicular on the support pillar, the residual kinetic energy denting it somewhat but not snapping it in two.

I was rather grateful for that.

My enemy at least had enough self-preservation and foresight to be mindful of the consequences, staving off the possibility of my blunder bringing down the roof of garbage down on us.

Really Tano, a Force Wave inside a cave that had been hollowed out of a mountain of garbage? I remonstrated myself.

I only took solace that I dared anyone else to not react the same way when someone had yanked the appearance of my old academy friend and classmate right out of my head, wearing it in an illusion-mask over her body, just to make me hesitate for that fatal moment.

Trying to convince me that Andan Alde of all people had fallen into Palpatine’s web and the Dark Side?

I also recognized this power she was using, one which was an invasive variation of the Mind Trick which she had combined with Dun Möch. It was something she was particularly talented in, if she could still apply it right through my own mental defenses.

The inquisitor wearing Andan’s face pushed off the pillar with cat-like grace, surged forward and promptly vanished from sight.

‘Asajj!' I warned urgently.

Thankfully the Nightsister had not been idle, laying an immediate illusion over Maul’s unconscious form, turning him invisible and using the ichor to create ‘duplicates’ and throw them away from her.

Her own yellow blades burst to life and intercepted a flight of five thin, void black throwing daggers that had come out of seemingly nowhere.

The inquisitor didn’t let that failure or the Nightsister illusionary powers discourage her. 

She appeared again, this time wearing the illusionary mask of Ky Narec, Asajj’s old Jedi Master, already in mid-swing with her red blade seeking nightsister’s neck.

Asajj blocked the attack cold, pushing the red blade out of the way with her left and lunging forward with her right.

The inquisitor dodged in a flowing acrobatic form that reminded me of a bastardized Ataru, a Force Jump the instant her foot touched ground let her float backward as if she had taken lessons from Chinese Wu-xia and vanished again.

I blurred through the air, launching myself straight at the spot where I judged her landing through echosense.

In practice, I’d never thought the dull constant hum from the lit lightsaber, radiating sound outward and bouncing it off objects everywhere in my environment would actually come in handy. It was a mundane physical sense and therefore could be fooled by a sufficiently skilled Force User.

I therefore didn’t rely on it.

Yet now… my opponent played right into its strength and the one weakness of her prolific skill in Force based stealth techniques. I’d like to meet the person who could keep up the Force Cloak, Mind Illusions and a strong enough TK shield to dampen their sonic signature in the environment as well.

The inquisitor ignited her blade again in defense, intercepting my dual red blade Falling Avalanche and was nearly blown off her feet by my simultaneous Force Push.

She managed just enough of her own counter Push to only be put on the backfoot and her Cloak fell again.

I almost rolled my eyes as she wore the appearance of Gahyic, my sullustan friend in the Explorer Corps.

Instead I twirled my left blade into an attack on her knees.

It was intercepted by the emergence of a second blade from underneath the stylized hilt of the inquisitor’s weapon, as it became the dual-bladed saber staff. It didn’t have that ridiculous circular crossguard, so there would be no ‘flying’ or ‘floating’ inquisitor bullshit, thank you very much. Any youngling learning saber theory in the academy would tell you that a lightsaber blade had no aerodynamic wing properties to create lift, no matter how fast you spun it.

The inquisitor slashed upward with the saberstaff, trying to wrench my left blade up and out of position for the other end to attack my chest.

A quick block with my right blade stopped any such notion, whilst my right leg surged forward in a blur.

My boot connected with her stomach in a kick that would have Leonidas nodding at me seriously in approval.

The follow up Force Push through my foot sent her flying.

I had felt the meaty impact and the sound of air leaving her lungs, yet she still had enough control through the pain to vanish again in mid-air, her lit lightsaber being the only lingering trace of her and that too vanished as she extinguished it.

Far from letting up on the pressure, I threw my left blade after her, controlling it into a rapid sawing spin that threatened to bisect her from head to groin.

Asajj followed suit, sending her blade to intersect where mine would be.

The inquisitor split her saber staff into dual blades with a twist and batted away both attacks, before she flipped around and landed on her feet.

Her cloak fell just as her hand whipped out and more thin daggers shot towards me and one of the illusionary unconscious Mauls lying on the floor.

I reached out with the Force, ripping away her Control over the projectiles coming my way, ignoring the fact that now she had donned the form of Anakin with the corrupted yellow eyes of a fallen Jedi, wearing the dark outfit from when he had fought Obi-Wan on Mustafar, that I knew was from my own nightmares.

No, those were actually her true eyes and she was just trying to unnerve me again.

I clenched a fist and the daggers were crushed into harmless spheres of metal, dripping a lethal poison that reeked of Sith alchemy. Doubtless her master’s work.

“You fight the inevitable, Ahsoka,” said the Inquisitor, her reproduction of Anakin’s voice was flawless.

“Your attempts at Dun Möch is wasted effort,” I retorted and blurred into Force Speed, my lunging blades seeking to impale her head and chest.

She dodged, but straight into the slashing yellow blades of Asajj, who had used my obvious attack as a distraction.

They were entangled in a ‘hashtag’ blade lock, pushing hard on each other’s guard for a moment, but my own attack on the fake ‘Anakin’’s exposed back caused her to suddenly yield in the contest, then flow around Asajj’s blades.

However, my own attack was a complete feint and I burst into a bounding jump from the Ataru form, giving Asajj the room to shoot forward with Force Speed and avoid the rather embarrassing situation of being redirected into each other.

Finally, the inquisitor was forced into a conventional fight by my blades blurring into rapid slashes for her head and stomach.

She blocked and blocked, managing a riposte, which I just dodged before laying into her again with rapid slashes, varying the attack angle and alignment randomly.

Her face twisted into a hateful sneer, but I caught the glint of desperation in those yellow eyes.

I could tell immediately from the way our blades were clashing, her technique, her level of precognition, that I was fighting someone who had been taught in the Jedi Temple. She had been in the classes of Master Cin Drallig, the Order’s Battlemaster, and no amount of subsequent instruction by Palpatine or his other Sith lackeys such as Sly Moore could erase that legacy. However, it was also clear that her time as an inquisitor had an impact - she was too used to the quick kill from ambush thanks to her Force Cloak.

The Force began subtly rippling out from her in a way that she hoped I wouldn’t notice.

I drove my blades to her left, attacking her neck and leg.

She abruptly retreated to make some space, keeping up her guard and trying to bat the reverse sides of my blades badly out of position to open my own guard.

A quick twirl of my blades caused her to strike to hit nothing but air and instead gave me an opening instead.

“HA!”

My Control bludgeoned through her passive defenses as I suddenly channeled a substantial portion of Force strength from the flow I had currently going.

She rose into the air in my telekinetic grip and I got to see the disturbing sight of Anakin’s face contorted and gasping in pain.

Her strength in the Dark Side surged, her fear, desperation and pain pulling in more of it.

She fought back trying to push off my telekinetic grip.

Then she tried her true gambit.

From across the cave, her earlier discarded throwing knives that had been aimed at the illusionary Maul rose into the air and shot straight for my back with enough speed that it might as well have come from a slugthrower.

I was ready for it.

My body fell back, TK reached out from my back latching onto the ground, pulling me with enough speed downward that my dodge was just barely successful.

I felt the whispering passage of the knives across my face as they shot forward and continued on past my legs.

Now my focus was split three ways - stopping my body from hurting itself on the compacted garbage floor, keeping hold of the inquisitor and finally pushing my Control onto the knives - not to stop them, but actually speed them up.

She barely had a moment to actually react in time, but in this she had the advantage.

Her own knives stopped mere centimeters from her stomach.

I landed on my back with a thump and focused on the Control tug-of-war fully, pushing on the knives.

The knives started vibrating as we both poured more and more strength and will into the fight.

The blade of a yellow lightsaber burst out of the inquisitor’s chest and she gaped, her breath hitching badly as she tried to pull air into her lungs but found it impossible.

Asajj appeared behind the inquisitor, wisps of green ichor trailing off her body as she emerged from her own form of invisibility.

I suddenly found myself winning the TK war over the knives. They shot forward, all four embedding themselves into the inquisitor.

Between eye blinks I was no longer seeing the form of Anakin, instead a short female figure with a severe short haircut, dressed in black in a style of outfit that seemed almost formally militaristic, but was flexible enough to fight in. Her most notable feature was the solid black veil that was strapped over her eyes.

Asajj pulled her blade out and I finally let the inquisitor drop into an awkward heap on the floor.

I got up and had barely taken a step when I felt the death in the Force.

All of the Dark Side that the inquisitor had been holding onto dispersed, the awful stain vanishing into the background miasma that was so prevalent on the planet. 

Kneeling next to the body, I carefully fiddled with the veil and the strap that kept it on.

“Careful,” Asajj warned. “That’d be the one place I’d booby trap if I was her.”

She was correct of course and the probability line indicated a small injector mechanism that was primed to deliver a lethal toxin to anyone who just tried to simply unlatch the strap.

I retreated my fingers carefully and used the Force to pull off the veil.

Only to reveal nothing beneath… there were no eyes and only vestigial eye sockets.

“A miraluka?” Asajj asked.

“Yes, much is explained,” I sighed. “All miraluka are Force Sensitive and if there is one race in this galaxy that has an affinity for mindwalking…”

I trailed off as I realized that she had even fooled me into seeing and believing that the corrupted eyes of the Sith were actually her own.

My lightsaber hummed through the air and I buried the blade through the inquisitor’s forehead, before pulling it out and a single swipe severed the head completely.

Asajj raised an eyebrow at me as I deactivated and holstered my weapons. “I’m not yet skilled at making ‘zombies’, Tano.”

“It’s not that,” I rolled my eyes at her attempt at a joke, even as I was heartened by the fact she was openly showing some sense of humor. “Palpatine has inherited a mantle of knowledge from the Sith, especially from his own former master, which gives him a measure of control over life and death. We can’t let this inquisitor’s body fall back into his hands.”

“Then we burn it.”

“Eventually, but I first need to take enough samples to determine her actual identity. How’s Maul?”

“Sleeping, he was not harmed in the fight.”

“Would it be better to move him back to the ship for healing?”

She nodded, “This was his place of torment and the Dark Side will make anything we try to do in that respect much more difficult.”

“Then let’s get this done.”

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Given that we had no guide anymore, it was the journey of a few very careful hours to retrace our steps through the junk landscape.

It was slowed naturally by us having to carry the massive slumbering form of Maul and the miraluka’s remains via the Force. Then if that wasn’t bad enough, we had to contend with a renewed bout of wind and acid rain.

I could sense the surviving junkers watching us, hidden in secret dugouts in the landscape, their emotions a storm of conflict to match the natural one over our heads. They were seething in anger at our actions in killing so many of them, but self-preservation, seeing us carrying the clearly defeated Horned One and another dead stranger was keeping them at bay.

Actually getting Maul inside the Omen was another minor challenge. He was simply too big with the droid prosthetic to fit inside the ventral elevator. He would fit through the rear embarkation ramp, but there was no way I was opening my ship up to the atmosphere of this foul planet. Asajj expediently solved the problem by slashing the prosthetic in half, yet she also insisted that we bring that sliced off piece into the ship as well.

“You’ll see,” was her only explanation. “Besides, we want to leave as little evidence as possible here.”

That left me with the concern about the junker’s memories possibly being taken by Palpatine or one of his other unseen inquisitors. Yet I needn’t have worried about it as I explored that probability line. The junkers were so alien in mind and adaptive that actually trying to make sense of mindwalking them was a futile endeavor.

We carried Maul towards the ichor vat on the troop deck and laid him in front of it.

I left Asajj with her preparations and brought out a body bag from the Omen’s stores and sealed the inquisitor’s remains inside.

Taking a blood sample to the computer, I referenced the DNA against my own copy of the Jedi Archives. I didn’t have the entire archive, but I had a hefty chunk that I had secretly copied and stored on multiple disguised CSO servers across the core worlds. It was a process that was still ongoing and would be finished with another nine months of work.

In case the worst should happen, there would be no loss of all that history and knowledge.     

I knew the Jedi Order had preserved off-site backups of the Archives in secret locations across the galaxy but the future Emperor would be very thorough in scouring those locations. The unfettered access and resources he enjoyed after Order 66 would allow him to piece together a lot, despite Yoda and Obi-Wan sabotaging as much of the Archives as possible in the limited time they had.

Soon, Fulcrum would have a full copy of the Archives and…

The computer chimed that a match had been found.

I slumped into the pilot’s chair and brought up the file.

“Padawan Elyse Varn,” I said aloud and read pretty much what I expected.

She had passed through the academy about five years before Anakin, attaining the rank of padawan and had seemed promising in most respects. Yet she had seen no master approach her to continue her journey to knighthood. The file noted that at some point as an initiate she had ‘expressed a disturbing fascination with the Dark Side’. That it was even mentioned on her file usually meant that it was bad enough for the teachers to make a permanent record of it. This had become a blotch that would continue to haunt her for the rest of her time in the academy and as a padawan.

Eventually, when a year had passed with no master in the Order coming forward, she had been consigned to what was the unspoken worst fate for any padawan - the Agricorps.

It was a simple fact of life and temperament that not everyone was suited to the life of a Jedi Knight, that was why there were the four service branches of Jedi Order; the Agricultural, Medical, Educational and Exploration Corps.

Assignment to the Agricorps was essentially becoming the hybrid of a farmer and botanist, researching how the Force could be used to improve yields, quality and so on. To those who truly felt the calling of that service, it was a wonderfully rewarding life. The problem was that it had gained an unfortunate reputation as the dumping grounds for ‘failed’ Jedi. In some respects, that was true. No system was perfect and with the variety of an entire galaxy of people, it was inevitable that some would fall through the cracks and consider the Agricorps as ‘punishment’ for not ‘measuring up’.

I swiped a finger through the holoscreen, reading more of her short career on the agri world of Tanaab.

It ended with her ‘presumed death’ at the hands of a pirate raid on the farm she had been working at.

Her bloodstained lightsaber and torn robes in the modest home she had been living in on the farm was all the evidence that had been recovered.

The farm itself had burned down in the raid, with the farmer and his family only surviving thanks to the ‘sacrifice’ of Padawan Varn.

I slapped the holo away in disgust.

It would be interesting to go over the records of the last twenty to thirty years of the Agricorps and see the number of dead or mysteriously missing Jedi from the numerous worlds that they administered.

It was an investigation for another time, however.

‘Tano, I’m ready to begin.’

‘Be right there.’

I put the ship’s computer on standby and climbed down into the troop deck.

Asajj had taken to further cutting up Maul’s prosthetic so she could actually lay him down properly on his back. At this point there was barely anything left of the spider-droid, except for the front two legs and the crude main attachment point that joined Maul’s body to it. She was kneeling in a seiza pose near his head, with the ichor vat immediately to her left and within reach.

“Do you need me to do anything?”

She opened her eyes, staring at me with the most open expression I’d ever seen. Asajj was usually a closed book, burning with barely veiled hostility to anyone around her. This was different - she wasn’t nervous, but clearly the enormity of the task ahead was falling on her shoulders. The possibility of failure was there and given the potential importance of Maul to the survival of her people…

“I understand from Master Kina Ha, that you are well versed in the Jedi arts of Healing with the Force.”

I nodded.

“Then I will… be grateful for your assistance in keeping Maul stable through this process. Do what you must to keep him alive, just in case.”

I smiled at her knowingly and she gave me a brief scowl in response, gesturing towards the prone form of Maul. 

I crossed my legs as I sat down at the zabrak’s side and carefully placed my hands on his chest and stomach.

From a clinical medical perspective, Maul was an utter mess. In anyone else, they would’ve died long ago from cross-species diseases and disorders. This was usually the result when you consumed wholly alien species including the bits that were usually not on the dinner menu, like eyes, brains and other organs that held the specialist cells that were perfectly fine in their element, but ingest them and they turned hostile, poisonous or utterly indigestible. Cross-species gastronomy was a huge complex field in the galaxy.

The only reason Maul was alive was because he essentially used what the Sith of old called, Dark Transfer.

When Maul ate, he didn’t kill his victim at first, he pulled on their life force to empower and super charge his own healing through the Force. The problem was, no amount of ‘healing’ could compensate for the lack of certain essential minerals and nutrients. It was like building on top of a slowly eroding foundation.

His physicality and strength was actually quite compromised. It was only Dark Side empowerment that allowed him to not just be a fleshy abomination atop his prosthetic, whose bones would break with the slightest bump. That empowerment had also slowly corrupted his form, which was why he had overly pronounced horns in addition to the classic yellow eyes.

“The only thing keeping him alive is the Dark Side. I’m going to need to begin an infusion directly into his bloodstream.”

Asajj nodded in understanding, “Do it, what of the bond with his former master?”

I focused carefully, looking through the Force. “It’s there, hanging by the thinnest threads. At most it can only tell Sidious that Maul’s alive and transmit some extreme emotions.”

“I will begin healing his mind, pulling away the madness. At the same time you will sever that bond.”

I saw what she had in mind. “Let me get the infusion and we can begin.”

Infusions were just a variation of an IV bag with a ‘future’ twist. It didn’t use something as ‘primitive’ as a needle to pierce skin to get at veins. Instead it essentially bypassed the skin barrier with an energetic resonance that allowed the supplemental fluids directly into the body. With that attached to Maul’s arm, I turned my senses to his spirit and focused on the withered connection he still had with Palpatine.

“Ready,” I nodded.

Asajj rubbed her hands together and breathed in deep, except she didn’t pull in air.

Gaseous ichor emerged from the vat and was pulled into her nose and mouth.

She did this five times and reached with her right hand towards Maul’s head.

Somehow, that hand was both solid and yet not, trailing a ghostly afterimage tinged in green.

She grasped at the air above Maul’s forehead and pulled her hand back.

An awful vanta black miasma became visible suddenly in her grasp or it was more accurate to say that the miasma wasn’t letting any normal light reflect off it. It was absolutely vile and I wanted to hurl just looking at it.

Maul gave a low keening scream and his entire body trashed, twitched and undulated under my hands. His spirit didn’t feel pain in a conventional sense, but it was seriously disturbed as Asajj performed the ichor empowered psycho-surgery. It was twanging the bond with Palpatine like an out of tune guitar…

In that moment, my own will, shaped into a figurative blade, came down on the weak bond.

Maul sprained his own back as his entire body went briefly into a painful spasm. Such was the pain that he didn’t even have the energy to let out more than a weak scream.

“The bond is gone,” I confirmed, wincing at the backlash that battered my own being.

Asajj reached down again and pulled another clump of madness from Maul, then repeated the process once more. Each time, he thrashed, whined and whimpered as more of the awful miasma was removed.

I had to admit, with all my senses open to the process it was utterly fascinating to watch and there weren’t words in Basic to express some of what I saw.

Asajj began twirling and moving her hands as if she was cradling an invisible ball and the entire ichor vat glowed bright green before a steady stream of it was coaxed into her hands.

Eventually, she held a gaseous ichor construct that almost looked like a dodecahedron.

For a full minute her hands moved around it, further refining the structure, making adjustments that I only had the vaguest of notions about from my own ‘training’ through the memories of Mother Talzin.

Finally, she pushed the ichor construct towards Maul, where it completely unfolded on him.

I rapidly pulled my hands away, knowing that this entire restoration balanced on the edge of a knife.

Maul gasped and his entire body visibly relaxed for the first time as he was enveloped in a visible aura of ichor, that sent out a connection to the vat as well.

Asajj closed her eyes, frowning with concentration and when she opened them again they were utterly clouded with bright green ichor that glowed like energetic green plasma. Her hands grasped at the air and made a summoning gesture towards the cut wreckage of the droid prosthetic.

I had the distinct impression that Asajj was not the only mind at work here and…

Of course, Talzin was here as well. Using the ichor vat and her connection to Asajj to manifest herself in the Nightsister version of Remote Projection.

In the meantime, the wreckage of the rusty old droid prosthetic had begun to glow green and literally liquified. The remnants of the prosthetic attached to Maul’s lower body also became fluid and the two green liquid masses came together and began to take an entirely new form.

At first it was just a huge mass of green, then separated into two distinct long cylinders.

Asajj’s hands became like an eagle-claw and she grit her teeth, pulling back.

The green mass swelled briefly before I heard the distinct tang of metal and Maul’s entire body shuddered. It then changed even more, gaining texture, becoming distinctly orange and molten. It was as if I was watching metal gain organic properties.

It both grew and was molded.

Then the residual mass was shorn off by the ichor turning itself into an ethereal lathing machine.

Maul screamed in pain and with horror I realized that Asajj and Talzin hadn’t just forged dead metal. The only words I could give it was living biometal. 

Before my eyes, two sleek reverse-jointed legs attached to metallic hips emerged from the mass. The residual material flayed off the new legs became black, turning into nothing more than harmless dust that fell to the floor. The interface point between the biometal and his living flash was covered with a smooth flexible sheathe and armor.

His body writhed and I had to throw up a minor TK shield around my montrals to spare them the shrill scream as I sensed the ichor work on his internal organs and blood, cleansing them of impurities and even working on repairing the DNA from accumulated radiation damage.

The long horns on his head were shorn off with a flash of ichor and shorter new ones grew before my eyes.

His skin was filled in as the atrophied muscle and bone was repaired and strengthened to a level that he had during his duel with Obi-Wan. The dull red of his natural skin color bloomed into a more healthy shade underneath his extensive tattoos.

Asajj waved her hands and the ethereal ichor retreated from all over Maul’s body, before she made a harsh throwing gesture towards the vat.

Finally, Maul’s screaming stopped, his restored body relaxing into a mere slumber on the troop deck’s floor.

A quick check on the infusion bottle, showed that the feeding tube had been pulled off in Maul’s thrashing but it was completely empty. Talzin and Asajj had made use of every drop of the IV nutrient to gain more energy for the healing restoration. 

Through the Force, it was also clear that Maul was still firmly drawing from the Dark Side. Yet, whilst he was under my Prescient Shroud his presence was obscured entirely. He couldn’t leave my general proximity until he properly reined in his own presence and effect on the Force.

Now the problem was Maul himself.

Asajj blinked and her eyes returned to normal, Talzin’s presence retreating somewhat but still hovering over us.

I put my hand on Maul’s muscular chest, firmly ignoring how it felt and fell into the medical detachment of a Healer.

“This is naturally amazing work, but he will need to eat like a hutt for the next week to support the changes you’ve made.” They had also repaired his digestive system extensively, threading it into the biometal hips. Maul could actually use the Refresher properly again. I did not want to think about what he had to do before this. I also made further adjustments of my own, tweaking a few dathomiri hormone producing organs that had been strained and would lead to long-term problems if left unattended. 

Ichor flowed out of the vat and coalesced, before Talzin herself manifested a visible presence, standing right behind Asajj.

“He must be woken,” Talzin declared.

“I trust you’ll intervene should he decide to murder both of us and go on a galactic campaign of revenge?” I asked wryly.

Mother Tazlin chuckled and it felt like my spine wanted to climb out of my back as my montrals heard her echo-laugh. She reached down to Maul and her huge hand rested on her son’s forehead.

“Arise Maul, reborn son of Dathomir.”

I pulled my hand back to my lap quickly and fought the screaming urge to get up.

Amazingly, the probability line showed that only if I presented myself as a threat, Maul would immediately take it as such. The fight that followed was enough to totally wreck the Omen and while I could defeat him, the cost was unfathomably large as Maul was practically exposed to every strong Force-User of note in the galaxy.

Now I had to sit still in a meditative pose as one of the most dangerous and deadly beings in the galaxy woke up in front of me.

His eyes opened, glowing with the yellow of corruption, but the sclera of his eyes were barely bloodshot and I immediately saw that the spark of cunning intelligence and wits was there. 

Those eyes naturally found me first and I met them with no fear or apprehension.

“Welcome back to the land of the rational, Maul.”

His eyes narrowed and quicker than a striking snake his right hand tried to grab a hold of my face.

I slammed down a pin point kinetic reversal and his hand bounced away from me.

“Peace, my son,” Talzin said in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

He sat up and glared at her, gazing at Asajj for a moment before grudgingly nodding. “Mother,” he acknowledged with a growl and tried to sit up, only to gaze in amazement as he felt his new biometallic legs responding naturally to him.

Despite being digitigrade he had no problems moving them and his new feet were a combination of flat heel and four wicked sharp toes that would allow for traction and grip on any surface. The toes flexed individually in sequence as Maul tested them.

He pushed off the floor with his hands in a quick acrobatic movement, and got his new legs under him, standing to his new imposing height of just over two meters.

“It’s been… so long, my path… so dark. Darker than I ever dreamed it could be,” he said, his low voice resonating pleasantly in my montrals. He turned and nearly fell right on top of me, but just managed to retain enough balance to take a step back, getting used to how his new gait would function. “Yet never, did I imagine it would lead me to a Nightsister and a Jedi, working together and my actual mother…”  

He stepped towards Talzin and passed his hand through her ethereal form with a look of wonder.

“You remember now what happened, at last,” Talzin said, her face twisting in anger. “Sidious, he offered to make me his right hand, but instead, he stole you. Using one of our own nightbrothers, he lured you away and orchestrated that which you suffered in the months following.”

Maul closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes… yessss,” he hissed. “I was so young, but that didn’t matter. I was beaten and starved, living off scraps, all at the bidding of him. To become his perfect weapon and then he even robbed me of those memories, until all I knew was that I belonged to him. I knew nothing of Dathomir, of the Nightsisters, of you!”

“Then I became the ultimate instrument of his will. I killed many and in the moment of triumph, when at last I would step into the light to challenge the old enemy… I- I- was defeated. I fell and fell, for so long, cut in half…” He stroked the area of his abdomen where Obi-Wan’s blade had passed through, now armored with biometal. “My hatred kept my spirit intact, even though my body was not. Then… on this world, after fighting for survival against many of these junkers, one of them found me when I was at my lowest, hanging on by the faintest thread. He saw in me the spirit of survival that they so prized and respected me for it. He was the one who fashioned the scrap prosthetic you found me with and wired me into it directly, in the clumsy manner of his kind. But I was not one of them, my spirit was willing, but my body and mind broke under the strain, turning me into the rabid animal you found me as.

“Discarded, left to rot on this world with the rest of the junk. Sidious knew I was alive, yet did nothing. My punishment for the failure on Naboo.” Maul frowned and looked around the interior of the Troop deck, before closing his eyes briefly. “The Force… it’s out of balance and you, Jedi, you’re concealing me somehow.”

“The galaxy is at war, Maul,” I explained. “Your former master’s plan has come to fruition. The Confederation of Independent Systems and the Republic, fighting each other with droid and clone. A veil of conflict to distract from the war’s true purpose. As for me shielding you… I’m protecting you from Sidious’ foresight, not to mention quite a few of the more sensitive Jedi in the galaxy, until you can regain your own skill.”

Maul took in my words and I got to witness the sheer strangeness of a darkly amused look on that fearsome face and almost a smile. I could even sense he wanted to outright laugh, but was holding it back. “You, a Jedi, hiding me from your own kind?”

I looked up, meeting his fearsome eyes easily as he towered over me. “Maul, you of all people should know how far Sidious’ intelligence extends, even to the very heart of the Jedi Order. Revealing you to the Jedi is as good as handing you on a platter over to your former master.”

“Fascinating,” Maul breathed. “Could it be that the galaxy has finally produced a Jedi who isn’t blinded?”

“That is certainly one way of looking at it, I suppose.”

“You carry a WESTAR blaster, two lightsabers with synthetic kyber… no, three and this ship… Could it be that you are Mandalorian too?”

Let it not be said that Maul wasn’t perceptive or lacked intelligence, when his anger and rage wasn’t clouding it.

I nodded, “Ahsoka Tano, Manda’lor of Clan Vizsla, Jedi Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. The Nightsister on your right is Asajj Ventress, the former apprentice of the man who replaced you at Sidious’ side.”

Maul took that in and stared at Asajj for a moment. “Tell me sister, who now sits next to the most powerful being in this galaxy?”

“Count Dooku,” she hissed, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

“Hmmm, you speak with the voice of betrayal, sister. Your strength tells me all I need to know about what happened. It is the way of the Sith.”

Maul turned away from us and stared into the ichor vat for a few moments. He raised a hand to touch it but pulled back as if it was threatening to burn him.

“Why do this?” he asked mildly.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” I retorted. 

Maul began outright laughing.

It was a low, cruel sound so in contrast with his general way of speaking.

“You want what I knew of Sidious,” he said eventually, his face twisted into an equally cruel smirk. 

“Yes. He will have enacted many plans and changes since your exile here. Much of what you will have to say will no longer be relevant, but he cannot change everything. He planned for your death, just as much as he planned for your possible survival. Also understand that he would’ve had you killed anyway. He needed a leader for the independence movement who would answer to him and you are many things, Maul, but wealthy and charismatic you are not.”

“You speak well of your enemy. You speak from experience and knowledge. You know his mind… How are you still alive?” His eyes now showed a slight hint of apprehension as he stared at me wearily.

I stood and still had to look up into his face. “That you can make up your own mind about, Maul. You know the Rule of Two. Sidious adheres to it only when it suits him and should he learn of your true survival, that he has been truly deceived, then you’re dead… and shortly after we will follow.”

“And you think he can be defeated? Despite everything?” Maul asked, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the question.

“Yes,” I shrugged.

His gaze turned to the implacable Talzin and the defiant Asajj before looking down at his own hands and artificial legs.

“You are insane to think it’s possible.”

I couldn’t help my own mouth twitching with amusement, hearing those words from someone who was insane barely ten minutes ago.

“Possibly, but the alternative is worse. Sidious is well on his way to the launch of his New Order, but that is just the beginning. He wants to conquer all life in this galaxy, bind it to his will. The Force itself, his alone to command and bestow upon whom he considers useful, whom he will discard and dispose of afterwards. This has become not a battle of light and dark, Sith and Jedi. Those are narrow considerations, artificial constructs and chains that we have bound ourselves in. There’s more to this galaxy and universe than just that.”

Maul blinked his eyes in astonishment as he heard my words, unable to believe a Jedi could speak them.

“Right now, I see your desire for revenge, against all who wronged you; Sidious and Kenobi. Yes, don’t think I'm ignorant of the latter. The moment you no longer need me to shield you, you plan to incapacitate both me and Asajj. Stranding us on the closest habitable world whilst you take my ship to begin your quest. You will travel to Raydonia. Taking a village hostage, contacting the Jedi Temple to lure Obi-Wan Kenobi to come. Yet all you will achieve is to alert Sidious as to your survival and yet another defeat at Kenobi’s hands. He is a battle hardened Jedi Master and you are still far from a 100%...”

“Enough!” Maul shrieked, beginning to pace in agitation. “You speak with foresight… I can sense it as I sensed it from him. It’s no wonder you are his enemy. What-  what do you want from me?”

“The Sith say through power and victory your chains are broken. That certainly speaks to a truth, from a certain point of view, but not the only one. Chains can also be broken by choice, Maul. The will to act on that choice. Right now, your revenge is a chain that is binding you. I want you to break it and cast it off. Choose another path.”

Maul’s presence flared with anger, his power swelled as he instinctively gathered it from the Dark Side.

Asajj also stood and backed off slightly, whilst Talzin waited patiently, gazing at her son’s inner struggle.

“Realize this, Maul, something that the Sith could never bring themselves to truly admit. The Dark Side itself is the greatest chain of all.”

He faintly stepped back, glaring at his own hands, then at me, Asajj and Talzin.

The Dark Side grew stronger and stronger in him, greedily trying to hold on.

“I must… I must have it! My revenge. There can be no other way!”

“That way is only death! The end. To be used by Sidious again as he plans around you, using you as a pawn in the great game of dejarik he has made of this galaxy.”

“I- I- No! It won’t happen that way! I know-”

“That will not matter. He will use you as the very tool that will destroy Dathomir, your mother and all the Nightsisters. After which he will come after me and the disaster to come after that will leave him alone, completely free to mold the galaxy to his liking.”

“No! No!” He rushed over to a bulkhead and slammed his fists against it, causing a severe dent as he used a Force Push in concert with the punch.

“Choose Maul. Here and now! Be a pawn, a slave to be led to death… or choose life!”

He sneered and glared at me with gritted teeth, the Dark Side rising and the Omen’s hull began creaking…

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A/N: Sorry Maul, the Force and the galaxy literally can't afford the time for you to shrug off those chains of yours. Enjoy the weekend and stay awesome everyone!

The Force Wills - Chapter 126

The thrumming beats and throaty singing of the Asagar band rumbled through the cockpit of the Omen.

I had the pilot’s seat folded into a reclining chair, with minimal control holos around me, content to just let the view of interstellar space surround me. The deep bass sounds thumped pleasantly into my montrals whilst I read a novel from a datapad as I waited.

The Omen was waiting at a rendezvous eight hours' travel beyond the Mijos system, right where the Koja Spur and the Nothoiin Corridor met. It was as random a spot as you could possibly get without throwing an RNG at the navicomputer.  

I put out of my mind how long I had been waiting and instead focused on the story, whilst also trying to parse the song lyrics of Asagar’s latest offering, ‘The Trooper’. It was obviously a reference to the current galactic war and everyone fighting in it, but their language combined with the way they sang made it quite difficult to hear every word of the song, with only every third or fourth being comprehensible. It was quite clear they were talking about the clones, but the band was not taking sides, merely singing about the general fate of a clone trooper.

How they were dying for a galaxy that just didn’t care to know them or their sacrifice, just so long as it didn’t involve them or bring the war to their doorstep.

I sighed as I focused on the heavy electric strings of the song instead, nodding my head in time with the beat.

I was doing all I could regarding the clones and in the dome of Clan Skirata on Mandalore that was finally starting to bear some fruit. The first procedures in reprogramming the biochips in the head of every clone had been successfully carried out just a week ago, as had a procedure for removing it entirely.

It had been done on a group of twelve volunteers from among the secretly rescued clones who now lived there, which numbered just under six hundred in total. It represented a full year of Skirata and Fulcrum’s combined efforts. It was just a drop in the bucket but secrecy didn’t allow for anything else.

The research into helping extend the clones’ life had at least also shown promise, which Kina Ha had been a great help in getting off the ground. Her flawless infiltration of Kamino just last month had greatly helped matters, liberating her people’s latest genetic techniques and bringing it back to Mandalore.

It would still take years of further research, but at least it wasn’t stalled completely anymore.

A chirping proximity alert pulled my thoughts to the present and out of my worries.

A slap on my chair brought it to an upright position and I re-enabled all the holo controls around me with the wave of a hand.

An ugly, boxy looking ship that was slightly smaller than the Omen had just dropped out of hyper and was burning to match relative velocity.

A quick sensor scan and database search showed it to be an old Corellian ship that hadn’t been manufactured for nearly eight centuries and looked to be from the early post-Ruusan era. It should’ve been a hunk of junk and barely spaceworthy, but I was reading quite impressive performance figures that were current with ships from just thirty years ago. Which wasn’t saying much, given how relatively little innovation there had been before the Clone war.

The ship’s transponder cycled from broadcasting itself as the Mistwraith, and now proclaimed itself the Dreadveil.

“About time,” I grumbled, jumping out of the chair and quickly got dressed into a new experimental outfit when I wanted to be more incognito.

I had already changed my facial patterning to a combination of circles and diamonds, whilst I had bit the bullet and gone through the pain of changing my lekku and montral color to a light brown on white.

As for clothes, a dark blue, one piece rugged swimsuit that would let me easily take a dip if I had to, combined with black figure hugging long pants, knee guards and combat boots. Finally a belt and holster combo for a new WESTAR blaster pistol and my two new lightsabers I had built on the three day trip here.

The synthetic kyber in them resonated in an angry red, but that couldn’t be helped in the time available. If I had another week, I could purify them, turn them into white kyber but it wasn’t necessary and felt too much like vanity.

I might have the Darksaber always with me, leaving M8 with a convincing enough fake, but there was no way I could use it without potentially giving up the whole deception game.

That done I swiped the controls for the com system.

“Omen to Dreadveil. You’re late.”

“Not all of us are blessed with the latest starships, Tano,” said Asajj Ventress in her high lilting voice that was just an inch away from either sounding like the classic harpy witch or a seductive black widow.

“I suppose not. Anyway, given the shape of that bucket of bolts, you’re going to have to maneuver to the Omen’s ventral port if we’re going to dock.”

“My pilot is good enough to know that already, Tano. See you in a moment.”

A quick pulse with the Force was enough for me to sense that Asajj did not come alone, another Nightsister was with her but not one I was really familiar with. It also let me pick up that there was a significant concentration of ichor on that ship.

“Interesting,” I muttered, enabling the ventral docking collar and walking out the cockpit.

A quick trip down the ladder to the lowest level, where the Omen’s engineering deck was located and the fusion power core thrummed merrily in low consumption standby mode.

I reached to the deck floor and lifted up a large panel, tapped in a few codes on a panel and the large circular airlock hissed and irised open. A small section of the ventral armor opened and allowed the docking collar to extend outward to the slowly rising Dreadveil who was maneuvering its own dorsal collar to link up.

The two ships shuddered as the collars linked and caught each other.

The outer door opened and I had a brief look at the Dreadveil’s own outer door before that split apart with a chunky thud of durasteel hull.

Then I was looking down on the neutral visage of Asajj Ventress, who wryly looked at me with assessing eyes.

“Nice look, Tano,” she eventually said with a grudging nod.

“Good to see you too, Ventress. Do come aboard.”

I stepped back to let the former Sith assassin, now Nightsister of Dathomir do a small Force Jump to easily get into the Omen.

Her preferred clothing hadn’t changed much since I last saw her, nimble shoes with wrapped legs up to her mid thigh, with a figure hugging red mini-skirt and tunic outfit with a hood, but there were additions to her arms and chest, cured rancor hide gauntlets and a chest piece, along with flairs on the shoulders that reminded me of Talzin’s outfit. She also had two brand new lightsabers on her hips, with hilts that were much straighter than her previous ones, made of chromium and covered with bane back spider leather which ended in elegantly carved Nydak tusks, giving them an ivory sheen.

It gave them both elegance and a beautifully cruel appearance. I could imagine her using the reverse end of the hilts to easily stab someone. Yet it was the kyber inside them that was the most astonishing thing.

They were quite powerful and old in a way that I could only conclude that Kina Ha had allowed Asajj access to a cache of kyber crystals that the ancient kaminoan had somewhere in the galaxy.

“One moment before we go,” Asajj sighed and she reached into the Force, gesturing downward with her hand and lifting something.

A large cylinder that stood at chest height, made of durasteel, transparisteel and plastics, that glowed with the green ichor contained inside rose up through the joined airlocks.

My eyes widened as I felt it up close…

It had to be at least 150 liters of the stuff.

Asajj guided it easily to rest a few feet away from the airlock.

I knew better than to touch the stuff, but my Prescient Shroud was based on Nightsister techniques and the gaseous form of ichor was naturally caught up in it, seemingly pulled in like it was a magnet to me.

Asajj tsked in annoyance and made a slight beckoning gesture with two fingers, which grabbed a hold of the ichor and sent it swirling back into its container.

“Figured this would happen. You’re like a neophyte-sister Tano, get some control would you.”

I took a deep breath and stepped back firming the Shroud further and focusing on only covering myself, Asajj and the Omen, which now included a bloody battery of ichor that would’ve liked nothing better to also pour into the technique with a giddy eagerness.

“Sorry about that, I might have Mother Talzin’s early lessons, but practical reality is a different thing.”

Asajj gave me a stern look. “Barely acceptable but it’ll do. Now, get us undocked, we can’t waste time having chit-chat, Tano.”

In the interest of time, I used the Force to speed things up, liberally using TK to push buttons and massage the systems with technometry.

The airlocks closed and cycled. Retracting supernaturally and the Omen’s ventral hull sealed up.

The Dreadveil detached itself and immediately maneuvered around and after a brief acceleration shot itself into hyper.

“Your pilot is in a hurry,” I commented.

“She has more to do than just ferry me here, Tano.” Asajj gestured toward the ichor vat and it literally grew four mechanical legs out of its underside with green light. Then it began walking on its own down the engineering deck towards us.

“Nice,” I grinned.

She rolled her eyes, “A minor trick, where would be a secure place for the catalyst?”

“Troop deck, there are mountings where we can bolt it down if we have to.”

One quick levitation up the ladder and that catalyst vat was walking towards the front of the Troop deck. Asajj transmuted the legs again to properly clamp onto the anchor points in the floor.

“The ichor is for Maul then?” I guessed.

She nodded, “My skills are too undeveloped to use only my personal ichor as a catalyst for the healing that Maul will require, therefore we must bring such a large amount with us. The Nightsisters will often do the same when our most powerful talents are required off world to complete a mission.”

“Ah, so the ship will stay relatively safe in orbit, letting the sister use it as both battery and catalyst?”

“In simplified terms, yes.”

We climbed up to the command deck and I hopped into the pilot seat, gesturing for Asajj to take the co-pilot spot. She was understandably a bit rusty given she’d just spent close to a year in the mostly primitive environment of Dathomir and the Omen’s cockpit was mostly interactive holograms. I felt her lean on the Force for guidance in a way that made me internally cheer. Kina Ha’s guidance and teaching had been just the ticket to get Asajj on a positive course in her life.

My hands twirled and tapped through the hyperdrive interface.

“Lotho Minor in twenty nine hours,” I announced, and pushed forward on the holo interface.

The Omen streaked forward and plunged into hyper.

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Living on the same ship as Asajj was a surprisingly ordinary affair.

The Omen wasn’t so small that we were forced into close quarters. She chose to either spend it in the cockpit, learning the modernized systems, using a datapad to go onto the Holonet and browse her interests or went down into the Troop deck to meditate in front of the ichor vat.

The latter was interesting for me to watch as she would practice ichor manipulation - simply pulling the gaseous form straight through its containment vessel and letting it dance and orbit around her body. I was half-tempted to join her, but I was no Nightsister and the ichor would leave traces of itself on me to a degree that would be immediately obvious to even the most neophyte apprentice Jedi, even if they didn’t know what it was precisely.

My accidental exposure and manipulation was going to take days of meditation and cleansing to figuratively ‘scrub off’.

The next morning, according to our own body clocks at least, I prepared a proper breakfast to my own sensibilities and placed a tray of it next to Asajj as she meditated in front of the ichor vat.

“Tano, what’s this?”

“Breakfast,” I said obviously, sitting down with my own tray in my lap and beginning to cut my cooked Naboo golden pheasant - yet another delicacy meat that I had rescued from the pantry of the Separatist's Dawn and transferred to the food reserves of the Resolute to be used on special occasions.

“Yes, obviously,” she frowned, giving her tray a skeptical sniff. Only for her eyebrows to rise in surprise when the smell agreed with her and I could just about pick up a hint of emotion in those ice-blue eyes.

She grumbled under her breath and picked up the tray to begin eating.

“Where did you get this food, Tano?” she asked immediately after the first few bites.

“Plunder from the Separatist's Dawn after we captured her. Sent the captain’s valuables to the family, but I thought it’d be a shame just to leave the food stores in stasis, given its rarity and that Resolute’s crew could use a bit of a spice in their diet.”

“Holonet was touting the victory everywhere, you’d think the war was won given how they were speaking,” she scoffed.

“We can thank COMPOR for that, but let’s not talk about the war. Could you indulge my curiosity, because it’s been frustrating me. Your new lightsabers, what kyber crystal is that?”

Asajj’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Pontite.”

I slapped my forehead in annoyance and exasperation, “Thank you. It’s been on the tip of my tongue for hours.”

Asajj sighed, unclipped one of the hilts and handed it over to me.

That gesture alone struck me as a true testament for just how far the dathomirian had come.

I accepted the hilt and immediately felt that it wouldn’t be ideal to use in a pinch. The grip just didn’t feel comfortable, the resonance from the kyber inside was off and while it wasn’t outright hostile to me holding it, any techniques I tried to channel through the blade would be rather weak. I could with time and a bit of brute force make it easier to use if needed, but that was just speaking in hypotheticals.

I held it parallel to the floor and ignited it.

The yellow blade that burst to life with the characteristic snap-hiss was an expected if pleasant confirmation.

Inside the core of the energy blade was a faint hint of another color beginning to rise… interesting.

I let the blade retreat into the hilt and handed it over. “It’s very well done, Asajj.”

She nodded in acceptance of the complement and just continued eating.

“So who do you think the enemy has sent?” I asked, drinking some tauntaun milk.

“Savage would certainly be a candidate and it would fit the Sith mindset and tradition of killing someone close, but he would’ve warned Mother Talzin if that was the case. No, this assassin will come from Palpatine’s side of the war, someone we haven’t encountered before.”

I didn’t even need prescience to know that one. Staring down the probability line I found a figure of shadow, someone who blended in very well, who was…

“It’s one of his Inquisitors,” I said with faint surprise. That he was already sending them out before the rise of his New Order was a fairly significant change, or could it be that he had always sent them out, but only those that were best at stealth in the Force.

“Inquisitors?”

“His own order of Force Users, steeped in the Dark Side, only given just enough training and strength to accomplish the goals he sets, but are disposed of if they show signs of growing beyond those limits. Most of them come from the ranks of disillusioned Jedi initiates, failed padawans or even fallen Jedi.”

I closed my eyes in frustration, it was difficult to see this Inquisitor. Not because she was under a Shroud, but because…

“Shabla! She has frakking Invisibility, the Force Cloak.”

“That will be frustrating to fight,” she admitted, then smirked. “Luckily for you, Tano, you have a Nightsister of Dathomir and a former Sith assassin on your side.”

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The Omen emerged from hyper just outside Lotho Minor’s mass shadow.

I got a bad taste in my mouth just from looking at it and sensing it through the Force was even more unpleasant. The planet reeked of decay and death, with only minor pockets of life being sustained in a bastardized decrepit cycle. The choking atmosphere was a light brown and black smog that didn’t let you see any landmass shapes from orbit. On sensors, there were hundreds of garbage scow ships adding further to the titanic mountains of junk, with dozens arriving every other minute and leaving with empty holds.

“We’re going to at least have to wear rebreather masks,” I said with slight horror as the sensors showed an atmospheric analysis. “There’s also literal acid rain down there.” I was already missing my beskar’gam. “I have a few sets of spare katarn armor that should protect us from that.”

“If we’re going to fight down there we can’t wear clunky commando armor that doesn’t even fit us, Tano. I can lay a minor kinetic shield over each of us that should protect us.”

“With no concentration or focus required on your part?”

“Yes, now hand me the ship controls, I can guide us to Maul’s general location.”

Not wanting to spend days trying to use the sensors, which would probably be useless given the mess down there, I readily complied.

She took hold of the yoke on her side and after closing her eyes briefly, began a burn for a course to the northern hemisphere of the planet.

Soon we were in a low orbit as she made minor adjustments, before abruptly nosing down into an atmospheric entry vector.

After three minutes of being enveloped in a plasma sheath the Omen slowed down enough and sliced through the upper atmospheric clouds that were an unholy conglomeration of water and toxic pollutants.

“The hull is definitely going to need a good servicing after we leave this place,” I grimaced, my mind already thinking ahead of where there would be a nearby repair station that would be off-the-grid enough for that purpose.

Asajj steadily brought the ship to a lower altitude, only turning abruptly to avoid a very thick bank of sulfurous cumulonimbus clouds. 

It was only when we were at six hundred meters that we broke through the lowest cloud level to actually see the surface with our own eyes and it was as horrible as could be imagined.

This was not just the garbage heap of the southern Outer Rim, but also served as the final resting place for pieces of scrap starship. Asajj had to hurriedly dodge the superstructure of what had been a huge freighter that stuck out of the ground like a huge partially buried carcass.

She pulled back on the throttle, bringing us to a crawling cruise of just under 80 kph.

“We’re definitely close, now we just need to find a landing spot around here,” she announced, scanning the area.

This was again easier said than done as conventional visibility was just under a kilometer around us before it was all washed out in a piss yellow haze.

I pushed my own senses out.

“There, 2200 meters at 313 degrees, it’s solid enough to support the Omen’s weight.”

Asajj turned the ship in that direction and sure enough a reasonable gap and plateau in the garbage hills appeared in view.

“That’s not exactly solid ground, Tano.”

“There is no solid ground on this planet, Ventress. You’ll only find clearings like these that are basically compacted garbage layers. I foresee this one holding.”

She was clearly reluctant but nevertheless began the landing sequence.

The Omen thumped and shuddered as it touched down as the garbage layer adjusted to the sudden weight being placed on it.

I quickly took over the controls, shutting down the engines and any lingering thrusters immediately, forgoing a few steps in the checklist in the interest of not disturbing the shaky ground we had landed on further.

With that done, I primed the ship’s grounded self-defense and security systems.

“Ready?”

Asajj regarded the area rendered in all its ugly detail by the holoscreens that surrounded us, “Yes, let’s go.”

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We made sure to use the ventral embarkation airlock elevator, as we didn’t want any contamination getting into the Omen.

I double-checked the seal on my full-face rebreather mask, breathed in and out as a final confirmation before hitting the control panel.

The elevator descended and we were hit with the full force of Lotho Minor’s atmosphere, not just in terms of its general toxicity but the wind was gusting at nearly 70 kph in the valley of literal garbage we had landed in. If that wasn’t bad enough, at the crest of nearly every garbage hill, fires were releasing smoke and being pulled to the side by the wind.

Barely a few seconds of exposure and I already felt like I needed to shower for a week.

We stepped off the elevator and I sent a signal for the Omen to fully secure itself.

Asajj took a few moments to get her bearings, before holding up her palm. Green ichor pooled in it briefly before resolving into a pulsing symbol in ancient Dathomiri, which vanished quickly.

“He is within three kilometers of us! Follow me!” she shouted over the wind.

She led the way towards a nearby garbage hill twenty meters in front of us, before we cut around it in what looked to be a well worn path.

We had barely walked a few hundred meters and had totally lost sight of the ship before our senses warned of a general danger, enough that we had to begin sprinting urgently and even vault over some garbage piles that had been blown into the path.

Crashing into view behind us were two giant four legged droids that were almost twenty meters tall.

Their mechanical feet crunched the garbage under them and their giant mouths came down to gulp up tons of it before it flared with blinding flame and heat, incinerating the garbage to its melting point and taking in the resulting molten products into itself.

These refuse incinerator droids had been released onto Lotho Minor centuries ago in an effort to control the levels of waste. A vain effort done in the hopes that at least some part of the planet could be reclaimed for normal civilization. 

Our sprint continued as we dodged what looked to be an entire ‘herd’ of the incinerator droids.

Their ancient programming had long since become so corrupted with errors and with no memory wipes being performed, it was a miracle that they still continued to function. They had long since gone ‘feral’ with the temperament of a rancor that had been denied its meal for too long.

With that danger behind us the wind calmed down somewhat to a minor breeze with only the occasional gust.

Asajj stopped in her tracks though as we threaded our way through two large piles of what had been ancient consumer electronics.

She made a sudden grasping gesture to the left and the Force twisted with a pull.

“Ahhh!” screamed a nasal voice in fright.

Ancient holoplayers and junk erupted as a four meter long anacondian emerged into the air under the pull of Asajj’s power.

“Ah, ah, let me go,” he whined as he writhed in mid-air, futilely trying to escape. The being was understandably filthy, its beige skin was almost black with soot and chemical stains creating an almost green network of splotches on its belly. It was also quite healthy in terms of weight, suggesting it did not lack for food, probably sustaining itself on spoiled food that was also dumped on the planet.

“Why are you following us?” Asajj sneered, adding a slight choking effect on the anacondan’s neck.

“Ug…ug… I- I- please- stop-”

She relented, “Speak!”

“Just-” he gasped, his beady eyes on either side of his head bulging slightly. “Just curious! That’s all. It’s so rare for anyone to land willingly here, except for the junk droppers and even they don’t get out of their ships. You’re clearly looking for something or someone. Maybe I can help? My name’s Morley.”

“Well met, Morley,” I said quickly before Asajj could say something nasty at the suggestion. “You clearly know the general area well, don’t you?”

“Of course, of course I do,” he said quickly and just from his tone and the general sense of his mind, I could tell that Morley was actually a few steps away from being literally crazy.

“Then you wouldn’t happen to have seen someone like this,” I said, pulling out a small projector from my pocket and bringing up an old rendering of Maul taken from palace security footage on Naboo.

Morley brought his head forward, squinting at the image. “Hmmm, a horned fella, looks quite scary. Well, there are some legends among the Junkers about what they call the ‘Horned One’. It’s said among them, many years ago, that from the rain of junk in the sky the Horned One fell and killed many of them, until the being collapsed from exhaustion.”

“Then what? And who are these Junkers?” Asajj sneered.

“The Junkers always stop the story there. As for who they are, they’re what passes for the natives of this planet. They eke out a living among the wastes, just like I do. They consider the junk of the world to be theirs and holy. Not for outsiders to use or take away.”

“And what sort of relationship do you have with them?” I asked curiously.

“You won’t see us sitting around a Lifeday campfire, at least, he he,” he chuckled nervously.

Asajj flung Morley away with a gesture onto nearby flat ground.

The anacondian immediately slithered out of view into the mass of junk, before he abruptly appeared again on another pile and looked at us with curiosity, cunning and a mild desperation.

He was also hungry.

“For a modest fee, I can be your guide to this place,” he suggested. “You did well in avoiding the Fire Feeders, but there are more dangers that I can help you safely avoid. Not all paths are safe for you two-leggers to walk on.”

“And what would you accept as payment, I doubt you have much use for credits on this world,” I pointed out.

“Really, Beweza?” Asajj shook her head, inventing an alias for me on the spot.

“He could be useful,” I shrugged.

“You clearly came in a ship, a ship with supplies of food, no doubt. Give me a month’s worth of rations and I’ll be your guide for as long as it takes to find the Horned One.”

“Two standard weeks of rations, it would be dangerous out amongst the stars with lower food reserves.”

“Three weeks,” Morley’s wide mouth smirked, showing off two rows of nasty spiked retention teeth.

“Three weeks then, we have a deal,” I sighed, faking reluctance. The Omen’s food stores had to be ready to potentially feed twelve hungry Mandalorians for months in an emergency. Morley’s appetite would make little dent in it.

“All right then,” Morley said with eagerness. “Follow me, two-legs!”

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Despite our new guide, Asajj was still the one who dictated our course. Occasionally using her ichor rune to get more precise readings on Maul’s position. The Dark Side on the planet cast just as bad a miasma as the pollution and very effectively hid any signature in the Force that Maul naturally had. Even if we had been using the Dark Side to look for him, I doubted his natural affinity for hiding his own presence would’ve waned, even in his madness.

Morley did prove his usefulness immediately when he pointed out unstable paths and garbage hills that were too dangerous to approach due to the volatiles and even areas of high radiation from unstable elements.

“I’m much more hardy to that than you two-legs, can even feel it tingling on my skin,” he commented as we took the long way around two large junk piles bristling with enough radiation to give our DNA a very bad time.

We emerged into a large clearing of compacted junk forming what was the local equivalent of a town square.

In small stacked shelters all around the perimeter short hunchbacked beings chatted with each other and immediately took notice of us.

The Junkers were strange amalgamations of both living flesh and junk which functioned as crude cybernetics for them. I sensed in appalled fascination their biology, which was also a similar amalgamation of various species. Whoever the junkers had been originally on Lotho Minor, they had a fascinating ability for adaptation. It was almost as if I was looking at the Borg, but minus the whole hivemind thing and assimilating everything for more uber technology.

The Junkers were clearly content with their lot and judging from what I sensed, they clearly didn’t appreciate our presence on their holy garbage.

They chittered to each other in a rapid alien tongue that I could hear but make no sense of, only the emotions and intent in the Force that they were radiating outwards brought some meaning.

“Oh, uh, I think they’re really cranky today,” Morley said nervously. “We better move through quickly.”

The hunchbacked junkers brought out improvised melee weapons of every variety, some of them even had bladed limbs crudely hewn into blades. They brandished it into the air and their chittering calls echoed over the wind. Their green glowing eyes from under their hoods glinted malevolently.

I felt Asajj’s thoughts snake towards my mind in a novel manner, clearly based on a Nightsister technique. It was rather icky, but given that it was based on ichor, not surprising it felt weird.

‘Put them to sleep, Tano.’

There were 94 junkers in the crude town square, most with melee weapons but some had improvised blasters of varying lethality.

I embraced some theatricality and made an expansive downward gesture, reaching out and throwing a Force Sleep that encompassed the entire town square.

My sense of their biology was not the best though and only 45 junkers dropped their weapons and collapsed into dreamless sleep.

Their still standing fellows didn’t appreciate it and a junker standing at the top of an arched beam raised its weapon, bellowing rapidly in the alien language.

“Whatever you did, you made them mad!” Morley slithered away rapidly out of sight.

‘Damn it, Tano!’ Asajj thought as she brought her lightsabers to bear, easily slapping a red blaster bolt straight back to the junker who had fired.

‘It’s not that easy, Ventress,’ I hissed in annoyance as I ignited a crimson lightsaber in my right hand, deflecting a shot before quick draw, snapshotting another blaster wielding junker with my WESTAR.

We both immediately flowed into standing back-to-back, slashing and shooting at the charging junkers.

I could’ve ended the fight quickly with a Force Wave, but that was utter overkill, especially considering that Sidious’ Inquisitor was undoubtedly watching us with interest at this point.

Despite that Asajj and I acted like a woodchipper against the oncoming junkers, there were only two of us and we were being attacked with a fanatical zeal.

Two Force Pushes cleared the bodies piling around our feet and sent them crashing into the oncoming horde that was rapidly thinning.

With some breathing room again, I fired three times rapidly with my WESTAR, targeting the junkers who were still sniping at us from range.

Two headshots and a body shot later and that threat was dealt with.

It was only when there were a handful of junkers left standing that some sense finally prevailed in what passed for their brains.

They wearily kept their weapons up and hurriedly retreated out of sight, practically vanishing to normal sight through cunningly hidden escape routes engineered right out of what seemed to be just walls of garbage that lined the town square.

“Wow,” marveled Morley, who slithered out of hiding from an empty shack. “That was some impressive fighting, especially that thing you did with your hands and they just went flying! If I get some hands, could I do that too?”

“No,” Asajj said flatly, extinguishing and holstering her lightsabers.

“Aww, pity. Ow, hey…arghh.”

She had him in a Force Grip again and hovered the anacondan closer. “Did you lead us here hoping they would kill us?” she asked dangerously.

“No, no, I swear,” he quickly denied. “It’s impossible to avoid the junker square, all the safe paths lead through here!”

“He speaks truthfully, Ventress,” I said, puzzling through the emotions of the snake-like alien. “Yet, I think he also used us as a gambit. You don’t like the junkers at all, you felt great satisfaction as we killed them.”

Morley sported a disturbing fanged grin, “What can I say? We’ve had our spats and they chase me away from town every time. An anacondian has to eat after all and they don’t like sharing.”

Asajj let the alien fall to the ground, uncomfortably reminded of her own past, “Whatever, we have to go north-west from here,” she gestured in the direction.

“On we go!” Morley cheered, slithering forward to the northerly exit of the square.

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We were barely a half-hour walk beyond the junker town, picking our way through tall hills of garbage, when the weather took a turn for the worse and a fine drizzle began.

Each drop hissed as it landed, chemically eating away at whatever material it landed on.

Asajj quickly slapped a hand on my chest and I felt the Force molded by her ichor around me.

My entire body glowed gaseous green for a moment before a constant kinetic shield wrapped around me, repelling each drop of dangerous acid rain.

She wrapped one around herself a moment later.

“Thanks,” I nodded.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Morley moaned with each drop landing on him and he slithered into a nearby junkpile for temporary shelter. “Can you give me that green stuff too, two-leg?”

“It isn’t green stuff,” Asajj snapped in irritation.

“Well it was green and there’s proper shelter ahead, by the way.”

We looked around and it was still the same veritable maze of garbage.

I gave Asajj an intent look.

She rolled her eyes, “Fine, stick your head out so I can touch you.”

Morley carefully poked his snout out, which was enough as Asajj slapped him, extending the ichor protection to him.

“Ouch, oooh, that tickles.”

He carefully poked his head out and let out an awed hiss when he saw the acid rain magically bouncing away a few millimeters from his skin. He slithered out with a laugh of delight. “Ha, take that you stupid acid rain! Come now, to the right around this hill!”

We followed and sure enough a flat stable area opened up that seemed to have been formed from the constant passage of incinerator droids over time - creating a compacted surface. Then as their programming continued to churn and mutate over time, they moved onto other routes.

The shelter was made out of the ravaged structure of what had been an old light freighter, draped with layer upon layer of salvaged plastene materials that best resisted the acids falling from the sky.

Asajj looked at it skeptically, but her tracking rune lit up at its strongest level yet. 

“He could be in there, though it looks built by the junkers more than anything else,” she mused.

“Only one way to find out, better be ready in case he attacks though,” I warned.

Morley led the way and slithered through the draped entrance that had been made out of where the cockpit module had been.

Asajj entered first, just in case. Maul would clearly recognize a Nightsister, a female dathomirian and hesitate for that crucial moment.

The space inside was a mess.

Numerous dead junker bodies, their organic parts rotted away but on closer inspection I caught the glimpse of scratches on the metal parts, as if something with thin, pointy teeth had scraped each part for every possible morsel of meat away.

‘See it?’ I thought to Asajj.

‘Not surprising then that the junkers don’t like our guide. He eats them when he can and we’ve just walked into his lair.’

‘Yes, so do be careful of the trap two meters to your right, there’s a false floor there and only empty space beneath.’

We both continued our exploration of the space, not letting our guide know we had cottoned onto his plan. I had a memory of Morley from my past life, but even without that I would’ve sensed his emotions turn to an eager malevolence and hunger, whilst prescience would’ve caught the probability line where we step onto the false floor.

The anacondan was also now wrapped around a pole, his tail casually poised to drop on a hidden mechanism that was out of sight.

Asajj checked her tracking rune again. ‘He has to be below us, at least nine meters, maybe more.’

Morley was becoming steadily more frustrated as we casually avoided his little trap.

I sighed. The anacondan was doomed the moment we set foot on the planet. If I merely stunned him, Sidious’ assassin would casually dispose of him when she followed us down. If I grabbed him with the Force and threw him out of his lair, the assassin would just do the same thing, only sooner.

The assassin was trained to kill all potential witnesses.

“Morely,” I said casually.

“What?” his voice barely hiding his frustration.

My crimson blade had ignited and spun through the air rapidly in the blink of an eye, cleaving the anacondan into three smoking pieces.

Asajj raised an eyebrow at me, “Thanks for saving me the trouble.”

She gestured to the floor and the false durasteel panel was ripped off and tossed outside with a clatter of steel to hiss as the acid rain attacked it.

The tunnel it revealed was a straight fall downward for sixteen meters into near darkness. The only light below came from a small tongue of flame just out of sight.

Asajj didn’t hesitate and stepped forward to let gravity take over.

I followed a few seconds later, controlling my fall and bleeding off the kinetic energy into Force.

The darkness was banished properly when she lit one of her lightsabers, casting everything in a yellow sheen.

We were now in an adjoining tunnel that had been torn apart and compacted in a way that could only have been done by the Force. It was roughly three meters in height and stretched in both directions for thirteen meters before curving out of sight. The air was practically choked with the Dark Side and it was as if Maul had generated his own mini-nexus down here. Trying to sense him was utterly futile in these conditions.

Yet there was one sense I could fall back on… my montrals and echo sense.

Asajj abruptly turned around, holding her saber higher to cast its light further, but there was nothing.

‘Thought I heard something,’ she thought.

‘You did. He’s already seen us. The lightsaber made him back off. Come.’

We walked down the tunnel, essentially following the flow and direction of when Maul had literally first bored his way through. His sheer strength of will was utterly amazing to think about. I tried to imagine him, cut in half, holding in his own guts with the Force, forcing his skin to grow and close around the entire lower stump of his body. He would’ve eventually gotten some mobility by using his arms and levering himself forward on them, pushing his stump forward with the momentum, using the Force for everything else.

We passed the skeletal remains of a variety of species, both sentient and not. The majority was more junker cybernetic remains.

‘So this is how he sustains himself,’ Asajj mused. ‘Morley was actually serving him, luring food into the trap above. It’s no wonder the junkers attacked. They were trying to deny potential food to Maul.’

We came to a Y-intersection and paused.

The rune above Asajj’s palm pulsed stronger to the left.

We headed in that direction and I felt the sound of our footsteps bounce back to us from something large in the darkness beyond our light. I ignited both my red blades at this point, casting its blood red sheen across the tunnel. The large presence abruptly retreated with the tinny clatter of many legs.

‘Why did you do that?’

‘A yellow blade will signify the enemy to his instincts, red will at least make him pause.’

Asajj let her blade extinguish, seeing the logic and we advanced forward side by side, with my blades held defensively forward.

“ARRGH!”

Into the red light the emaciated figure of Darth Maul surged forward, hands held out like claws with cruel long nails, the horns on his head was a long jagged crown, grown vastly out of their usual proportion. The solid black tattoos on his red skin were stretched and askew as the skin beneath it suffered from malnutrition. Bloodshot eyes with Force corrupted yellow irises glowed with madness, fear, desperation as he sought to find a way past the deadly red weapons, to rip and tear at the succulent flesh beyond. We saw the crude, multi-limbed mechanical body strapped around what was left of Maul’s waist; it had clearly been a six legged droid at some point, now attached directly to his body through the same methods that the Junkers used.

The moment had happened so suddenly and when combined with the sheer miasma of Maul’s awful presence in the Force, which washed over us like a tsunami…

We couldn’t help it at all…  both Asajj and I flinched and faltered.

I barely managed to keep my blades in hand, surging my own will forward to tighten my grip and fight against the power that was calling at my every instinct to run and hide. The Dark Side had engulfed us and in a corner of my mind I realized we had experienced a variation of the Force Scream.

Only our inherent passive strength in the Force had let us stand our ground.

Asajj rallied her own strength and screamed in defiance as she shot out a Force Push that hit Maul directly in his center.

Maul and his prosthetic body was sent ass over a teakettle down the tunnel.

It took him but a single tumble to regain control and he skittered away in retreat, taking full advantage of both multi-limbed speed and an entirely subconscious use of the Force. I realized that the latter was the only reason that we were both still alive and had Maul retained just slightly more reason and strength, both Asajj and I would’ve died to a Force Scream that would’ve ripped the flesh from our bones.

I don’t know how I managed the will to chase after Maul, but a few seconds later both of us were using Force Speed and blurring in chase after our objective.

We emerged into a large volume of space that had been hollowed out of the compacted garbage. Large support trusses had been put in place in arcs, at regular intervals to support the roof, giving the impression we were inside the hollowed out carcass of some giant beast. Near the center, a fire was burning from a gap in the floor and provided the only flickering light in the space.

“I call you Brother of Dathomir!” Asajj shouted into the space as we both spotted Maul moving to the other side of the fire and another tunnel exit. Her words resounded in the Force, almost like Talzin’s and ichor flashed over her body.

Maul froze on the spot, his monstrous prosthetic body poised to run. He turned his head to regard Asajj with a brief moment of curiosity, before the madness took over again.

“NO! nO! Don’t! Haaaah!” His fingers clawed against his scalp.

“You are a Brother of Dathomir! Not some mad wild animal!”

“No! Noo! Raah! Noooo!”

“You are the son of Talzin. You are my kin! I am a Nightsister sent by your mother to find you!”

“NO!” Maul turned around, stared at both of us and began laughing madly. “Ha! Ha! Uh!” Which then devolved into a mad crying wail. “No… no… you don’t know. NO! You don’t know anything!” The anger and madness returned, fighting back to dispel the small hold that Asajj’s words had gained. “No… no… never!” He cackled madly again.

“I am of Dathomir. You are the blood of Dathomir. Taken from us by our enemy at a young age.”

“No! Never… never again! Go… go away!”

Yet despite having a clear exit, Maul’s spider body remained where it was and even walked closer, keeping the fire between us and him.

Asajj had her moment and her hands clapped together, a pulse of ichor shooting out and entirely engulfing Maul’s form and he slumped to the ground, robbed of all voluntary movement below the neck.

“NO! Leave me! There is nothing for you!” He screamed, some minor bits of the true Maul began leaking through.

She stepped forward around the fire and approached Maul’s biological upper body.

I started tapping my foot.

“Your mother disagrees, Maul. She can no longer sit idly whilst her own blood languishes in torment in this place.” Asajj tapped a finger on his forehead.

Maul, former Darth of the Sith Order, apprentice to the Dark Lord Sidious, closed his eyes and fell into the induced coma sleep of the Nightsisters. The inherent Dark Side miasma clouding everything fell away.

“Will you be able to work on him here?” I asked idly.

Asajj closed her eyes for a moment. “Mostly. Enough to get him back to the ship-”

I dodged my waist to the right and twisted, bringing around both my lightsabers into a blurring slash into the air behind me.

The freshly ignited red lightsaber that had been about to stab into my back was frantically brought up in defense and my blades crashed down on it with all the speed and strength I could muster.

I pushed forward on my opponent’s lightsaber and amazingly still didn’t see the person holding it.

The sound of the humming and clashing blades was bouncing off them well enough, forming a rough shape of them in my mind.

“Nice try. Drop the cloak, Inquisitor,” I grinned fiercely at the empty space behind the blade lock.

The Force moved, twisted and phased in a way that made me want to kick myself as I saw the technique that had eluded me for years being applied right in front of me.

Then I saw the true face of my opponent and blinked in astonishment.

The Force Wave exploded from me in anger a moment later.

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A/N: This was a nasty place to flesh out further. Ew, ew, just thinking about planetary sized landfill and the true hazards such a place would have. So who or what could our Inquisitor be? ;-) Enjoy your weekend and stay awesome!

2078: Highriders - Chapter 8

Actually finding a place to stay in Tycho City long term was not easy.

Almost everything was geared to tourists who had two week or one-month visas to remain, whilst anyone corporate would be put up in their own designated residential buildings. Staying long term in tourist hotels was completely out of the question given the prices.

Johnny and I fell into a very rare category of being technically sponsored immigrants to Luna, granted under the aegis of Manager Gakulu. He had given us some suggestions for finding an apartment that wouldn’t break our banks and we eventually settled for a place on the fourth subfloor of the city.

Calling it a ‘floor’ was a bit of a misnomer, because it actually represented a hollowed out space under the surface of Tycho, that was stretched out for a few square kilometers. Titanic load bearing pillars that were made of a mix of hyper alloys and regolith cement or lunacrete supported the ‘roof’ above and upper levels.

Sublevel four or SL4 represented the space where the majority of highriders lived and worked in Tycho. It was a mini-cityscape under the lunar surface and featured buildings that looked both artisanal and practical, lit from overhead with huge compound holos on the ceiling that made a fake sky complete with clouds. It was as if each highrider architect was given full freedom on how each building could look, as long as it fulfilled its intended purpose. The result was a small sea of unique shapes that gave the skyline an organic feel that I couldn’t help but feel gave the place a spirit that Night City completely lacked.

Our new apartment building for example, had ten floors shaped not in a rectangle but a tapered cylinder and rose out of the ground with an exterior that looked completely made out of lunar glass, tinted with shifting hues of green that changed as you looked at it. Lights on the perimeter shining upward on the building added a scintillating sheen.

“Looks like a big green dick,” Johnny commented, giving me his typical smirk.

I rolled my eyes and we approached the entrance which had two visible exterior scanners that shone and played up and down over our bodies briefly.

The glass doors hissed open and we entered an entrance lobby that reminded me of my old Glen apartment building in general layout. A single long corridor, with vending machines on my right and a reception desk to the left, but ending with four elevator doors.

Two highriders in skinsuits were grumbling about one of the machines, slapping the front of the glass because a purchase had got stuck in the release mechanism. Johnny seemed especially amused at it. “More than a century since those were invented and you’d think we’d have solved that problem by now.”

The third highrider in the lobby, sitting behind the reception desk was a tall, wiry guy with light chocolate skin and had the clear signs of low grav adaptation - those who had actually been born on Luna and then needed both medical and cyberware intervention to develop properly - which you could see in the pronounced major joints of the arms and knees. He wore a sleek highrider jumpsuit paired with a battered leather jacket that was covered in holo-patches that I referenced in moments from cyberspace to be from obscure Luna punk bands. It was very weird actually being my own Agent..

“Sawubona,” he greeted us lazily with a wave. “V and Hollow, is it?”

The question was totally perfunctory as he had been behind the scanner outside.

“Sawubona, yes,” I returned.

“Kael Voss, but you can call me ‘Skyjack’,” he introduced himself, scratching his bald head in irritation, which had a glowing cyan neural uplink tattoo snaking across his scalp, with an elaborate design that showed him part of the Driftkin tribe. Those who actually descended from the first engineers, miners and techs who built the first permanent settlements in Tycho.

That didn’t give me much hope for a good relationship with our new landlord. If he stayed true to the Driftkin rep, at best, he’d merely tolerate us only because Gakulu practically ordered it. Driftkin didn’t like ‘Earthers’ and they especially didn’t like Earth corpos.  

Skyjack studied us for a few moments, his ‘ganic brown eyes narrowing before he kicked something out of view, “Stop being lazy and help.”

A battered, fist sized bot floated up into the air with small puffs of microthrusters, it was equipped with welders and scanners that flung out emissions like candy and I could tell it even had an Agent equivalent intelligence inside.

“Fine!” snapped the bot with a snarky reverb electric tone and hissed towards the vending machine.

“So, I have a vacancy on the ninth floor for you, best I have in the building.”

“And how much will that cost?” I asked, folding my arms. I was already in the building’s systems in cyberspace and was looking through the security cams. There was none inside the apartments themselves at first glance, but it took me just a few extra moments to find the spy cams inside the small living room of the only empty apartment of floor nine. Other apartments in the building also had spy cams, seemingly at random, but it wasn’t until I referenced the tenant register that the obvious pattern emerged.

I almost wanted to openly roll my eyes.

The human race. Doesn’t matter where you put us, the location might change, but our nature fights its way through. Every apartment which didn’t have Driftkin living inside, was bugged.

“Six thousand per month,” he said flatly.

“Five, which also buys my silence to your non-Driftkin neighbors. I’m sure the Starjacks would have a few things to say about your paranoia and little side-hustle.”

The Starjacks were a highrider workgroup tribe that was the ideological opposite - most of them traced their lineage back to those who worked in orbit on the stations around Earth and Luna, where the majority of the Starjacks remained, but premium space constraints on stations and necessity forced Starjacks into moving to Luna as well.

In simplified terms, Starjacks had their heads in the void and saw Luna as a stepping stone to greater things in the system and humanity’s ascension to properly colonize Mars; they were generally more wealthy and didn’t scoff at anything Earth-made. Driftkin, on the other hand, called Luna home, utterly pragmatic, priding themselves on self-reliance and resourcefulness.

Skyjack didn’t blink or visibly panic as I held a figurative sword over his head. “Five-five, and that includes your life tax by the way. Think that the air you’re breathing comes from nothing?”

“Of course not,” I drawled. “5500 eddies per month? Deal.”

He lifted up a scanner tablet, which I placed my hand onto. “Payment upfront.”

It was the work of less than a moment to hijack the simple thing and give it a fake bio-imprint to register as a key. I gestured to him and transferred the money. A beeping inside his jacket showed that he also had an external Agent handling his monetary affairs, which my eyes scanned as a handheld mobile phone device.

“Welcome to Tycho Heights. Garbage days are Wednesdays. You have a five minute shower allowance per person and three toilet flushes per day for your apartment. Any questions?”

“None.”

“Good. You two find yourselves in need of anything, just call.” He tapped his jacket and a local Luna holocall number streamed to my digital perceptions, which I made sure to save.

“We’ll do that,” I nodded with my best diplomatic smile.

Johnny and I made our way down the hallway and he tapped the elevator controls.

‘Feel that?’ he said to me through cyberspace across our shared Relic protocol.

‘Yes, it’s almost like home, but more polite and with less guns. It seems we’ve walked right into a cold war between the Driftkin and Starjacks for control of Luna’s black markets. This building and neighborhood is on the front lines of it.’

A soft chime heralded the elevator’s arrival. We got in and I tapped the ninth floor button.

‘Figures that Gakulu would choose this place for our little home away from home, especially if he has a beef to pick with both tribes. We’re bound to get involved in their spats just from being here. It won’t be long until we’re even hired by either side once they do a little research on your rep.’

‘You really know how to brighten my day, Johnny.’

His only reply was to chuckle as the elevator stopped and we emerged on our floor.

We headed left down the circular corridor and walked past three doors before arriving at apartment 913.

The door automatically handshaked with our biometric keys and hissed softly open.

The space beyond was barely 400 square feet, open plan with only movable thin walls letting you have some choice about how much you wanted to devote to the kitchenette, living room or bedrooms. The only solid walls were the areas devoted to the shower and toilet. A holo TV hung from the ceiling in the living area, which was currently off and looked to be in barely working order.

The furnishings were there, but there was nothing to write home about.

“Your old pad in Megatower 10 was better than this,” Johnny scoffed. “Not exactly living in the stars are we?”

“It’ll do for the moment. We’ll spruce it up as time goes on.”

I did another scan to make sure I had spotted every spy cam, before throwing out a Short Circuit that turned every single one into a slag of useless plastics and molten circuits.

“Just how long do you think we’ll spend here in Tycho?”

I shook my head, “Johnny, you can come and go as you please. I’m the one who has to stay within quick travel distance to the only clinic and ripper in the fucking solar system that can look after my new body.”

He shook his head, “Not about to leave you alone on this airless rock, V.”

I stamped on the warm feeling in my heart that response gave. “It depends. Minimum, if all goes well, six months. I’m an object of strategic research for the highriders. That’s why there’s a spec ops team of theirs in the neighboring building that’s going to be keeping overwatch on us.”

I turned to look out the expansive floor to ceiling window with a marginally nice view of the subfloor and the building in question. There the nine-man team of highriders with unique high-end surveillance gear and weapons that looked built from the ground up by the Highrider Confed - easily the equal of the best ESA or Arasaka, with a few nifty tricks that might make them even better in some respects.

The leader of the team jerked like I had hit him with an quickhack as I had unnervingly met eyes with him. They had an invisible laser bouncing off the apartment’s window, which would let them hear everything we said.

“In the meantime, I’ll be giving Vik some homework as soon as I can arrange a secure transfer of the specs and data.”

It’ll be like a breath of fresh air to walk back into Vik’s ripper practice again as a client.

Johnny nodded in agreement and checked behind the doors of the two closed partitions, “Beds looks fine, though we may want to use some of our water allowance to give ‘em a scrub.”

We barely had luggage, with just a single bag that had one set of some spare clothes inside for each of us, that I dumped in a small closet set into the wall.

“So what about our contact for gear?” Johnny asked from the shower, briefly slapping some water on his face and even taking a drink. “Who is she?”

“Judging by the alias, definitely a runner, called Starbyte. Gakulu included a brief dossier, Earth-born, also from Night City, been working for him on Luna for over two years now.”

Johnny frowned, “That it?”

“It is a rather empty dossier,” I admitted. “I’ve been running a parallel search for Starbyte’s activities in lunar cyberspace. She definitely keeps a general low profile, though she has a few Arasaka and Militech data fort breaches to her name and both corps have her on a detain watchlist. She frequents a local runner club called the Eclipse Node and she’s fought in their arena.”

He walked out of the shower, “What’s her record?”

“So far, 21 wins and 1 loss. She’s good and it’d be interesting to have a match with her,” I said with an eager smirk. I’d watched a few of Starbyte’s runner duels in my parallel instance and the masked runner definitely had that rare natural talent for net cruising that somehow made me feel a kinship with the woman, just from the way she coded and fought. 

“Business first, V. Fun later.”

I waved him off, “I’ve already sent her a text about a meet and received a reply. We have a few hours to kill before heading off.”

“In that case, I think I’ll wander the neighborhood to get a feel of the place.”

“Just don’t start a tribal war, Johnny. Driftkin and Starjacks are just the overarching tribes to a deeper web of workgroups that make up this society. Tread lightly.”

“I’ll be a good boy, swear it,” he smirked.

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Our meeting with Starbyte was on the surface floor of Tycho City.

The place was a restaurant-pub called Regolith Bites, a tourist spot that tried a little too hard to capture an aesthetic that you were in a diner on a highway of the old USA, given a modern lunar twist. Each table had an almost artistic wear and tear to it, surrounded by bright red couches set in booths lining one wall. Each table had its own individual mini-network that asked permission to functionally hack your optics to display augmented reality menus. The smart windows of the place gave a wonderful view of the lunar landscape, giving the impression that you could step out the door and your feet would meet the lunar soil.

Actual holo menus hovered above the bar that stretched the length of the restaurant on the left. Pretty waitresses tended to patrons, wearing outfits with flaring pink skirts and aprons that could come from the 1960s and slammed you with a figurative anachronistic bat over the head.

“Hello, welcome to Regolith Bites, how can I help you today?” asked a blonde blue-eyed waitress with perfect skin and even a little hat perched atop her styled long hair with the restaurant’s name embroidered on it.

“We’re just here to meet someone at booth seven, might order something depending on how it goes,” I said politely, wincing internally at the bright smile and chipper attitude. A passive scan and glance through cyberspace told the story - every waitress had doll chips that let them give perfect performances and radiate that innocent charisma. There would be no chasing customers away just because a waitress was having an off day in this restaurant.

“Oh, okay. Just call any of us over if you want to order something.” She practically skipped off to attend to her other customers in another booth.

Johnny gave me a dark look as both of us were clearly going down memory lane of Evelyn Parker and Clouds. The doll who had been the joining cog and set practically everything in motion for the Konpeki Plaza heist. Neither of us had a good opinion on doll cyberware and if we could snap our fingers and cause the stuff to vanish from the universe, we wouldn’t hesitate.

We walked down the aisle and at booth seven at the very rear of the place, with her back to the wall, was seated a tall young woman. She wore a black Arasaka style netrunner suit with the logos ripped off and a cropped white jacket. Her neck length smart hair was shifted into black roots that smoothly transitioned to pure white at the tips, whilst her optics constantly shifted in a rainbow of colors. Her features spoke of a mixed Asian and Euro ancestry.

In cyberspace, she definitely had an active presence, even as she sat there drinking a synthshake. I immediately pegged it as the current gen Deep Net dive processor and her avatar was a lithe humanoid with translucent skin wearing only cybernetic patterns along her arms, and a strapped netdeck to her thigh. No fun bits were rendered except the mounds of her breasts and her hair was spread out as if she was in a constant ethereal wind.

Just by looking at her and the code and programs dripping from those fingers, I knew she was as skilled as her public runner duels indicated, if not more so. I didn’t doubt that she was holding back in them to give her a private edge for when it really mattered.

My eyes widened as Starbyte in a seeming automatic reflex began digging at the stealth cloaks that I had covered both Johnny and I with. His current avatar mirrored his IRL form, whilst I was still in my favorite sling bikini. The cloaks kept our unique presence hidden in cyberspace from most netrunners who happen to pass through or look our way. Our contact definitely didn’t fall into that category.

She stopped digging quickly though and in meatspace immediately lifted her palms towards us, “Sorry, sorry. Force of habit. Please have a seat,” she gestured to the other side of the booth in invitation.

We did so and it was as I was parsing her voice and doing a few more database queries that the actual identity of our contact hit me.

“You’re Starbyte?” Johnny asked in his most roguish, charismatic Rockerboy manner.

Whether it worked on her was up for debate as she just quirked an eyebrow and a corner of her mouth in a half-smile, “Correct, or as V here just figured out, Lucyna Kushinada, but please, call me Lucy. It’s… a pleasure to meet you both.”

‘Why do I get the feeling that there’s huge baggage with that last statement?’ Johnny said to me.

I threw him the appropriate file from Rogue’s Afterlife database and funnily enough one of my own.

‘Oh… oh!’ he said in realization as he digested the files.

Lucy had been one of the netrunners for Maine’s Crew, a small edgerunner outfit that had been around a few years before Konpeki and who’s file had also crossed my desk whilst I was with Arasaka Counter-Intel. Mainly because she had been offing any Arasaka netrunner who got too close to one David Martinez in cyberspace.

This had naturally not pleased Arasaka and it hadn’t been long before unofficial help was sought to deal with the problem. Mainly consisting of other mercs who had been bought to lure Lucy into a trap. Martinez himself had become a Solo of note because of his proficiency with the then experimental Apogee Sandevistan, which had somehow found its way into his possession.

Which was how he moved into the Afterlife merc roster and eventually Maine’s Crew, which soon became David’s Crew, when the former had lost the battle with cyberpsychosis.

In the end, both Lucy and David, having pissed off Arasaka too much, received the fate that all such nuisances met in those days - Adam Smasher.

The only reason Lucy was still alive was because of the expert timing of her accomplices and Smasher had been kept too busy fighting Martinez.

‘Fucking hell, this chick tried to quickhack Smasher whilst that chrome bastard was on a rampage.’ Johnny looked at their contact with some respect. ‘Gotta admire those cojones.’

“Please sit,” Lucy invited, a sad glint in her eyes. We took her up on the offer and I waved over the waitress, quickly putting in an order for two local beers. “Better watch out for the local brews, they’re an acquired taste if all you’re used to is Broski.”

“Consider us forewarned,” I smiled at her. “Shall we get down to business?”

She reached into a pocket of her jacket, producing a small device she put on the table, which immediately began broadcasting a localized acoustic buffer, which would prevent long range microphones from eavesdropping. In cyberspace, her avatar moved and with rapid manipulations of controls that sprouted in the air around her and gestures, she encased us in a distortion shell program that blurred and obscured us completely.

“Yes, but first…” she trailed off, warring with uncertainty. “I might as well say this now, get it out of the way.” She bowed deeply, as best she could whilst sitting down, almost smacking her head against the table. “Thank you, V.”

Just from her tone, I could feel that had come from a deep place. Lucy was not the first survivor or close family member of a victim from Smasher’s long list of bloodshed who had sent me thanks, gifts or even heaps of eddies. No one had ever really been insane enough to officially list a bounty on Smasher, not when he was in Arasaka’s pocket with their long reach into every corner on and off Earth, but that didn’t mean there weren’t all kinds of people who had suffered in some way who wanted to anonymously thank the Yurei of Night City.

I bowed in acknowledgement of her thanks.

She took a deep breath of composure, rubbing away an errant tear. “Now, the mission Gakulu is sending you on is something you’ll be needing some prep time and gear for. Combat on the lunar surface is an entirely different animal than what you’re used to, which is why I’ve got a number of training shard BDs for you to run. He’s given a marginal advance in eddies, but you will be required to outright purchase the gear you’re going to use. Plausible deniability has to be maintained.”

“What’s the cover story?” Johnny asked.

“The Arasaka sabotage team you have to take out, must seem in the aftermath, to have been done in by Militech.”

“So we’re playing with a false flag as well,” I folded my arms in thought. “That will require specific equipment and of course, everyone will assume that Militech already had a defense squad secretly on the moon because they naturally don’t trust Araska will abide by the Lunar Accords. It will just be their bad luck to only spot the sabotage team going for the Mitsubishi facility, oops.”

The Lunar Accords were the ‘play nice’ treaty on the moon that generally stopped any large scale military action from ever occurring on Luna by any nation or corporation. That didn’t stop covert dirty tricks or black ops, however, as this whole situation neatly demonstrated. It would be neatly in both belligerent parties' interest not to make public what will occur. Even if Militech knew that they hadn’t been responsible for what Johnny and I would do, they would write it off as a fait accompli. They would have lost their Sea of Clouds operation to sabotage but it was a small price to pay for kicking Arasaka out at the end of the day. 

Someone at Militech, would eventually make the conclusion that the actual play had come from the Highrider Confed and I suspected Myers and Lucas Harford, Militech’s CEO, would have some words then with Gakulu and his fellows at that point.

“Precisely,” Lucy confirmed, she held up a hand to pause the conversation, remotely disabling our acoustic buffer. Letting the waitress deliver our beer mugs without the artificially cheerful woman noticing a thing.

The beer and the mug was creatively named ‘Regolith Ale’ and the color was quite pale and a brief taste left a metallic tang in my mouth that was characteristic of lunar water, with the typical bitter sweet flavor of barley grown in hydroponics only coming afterward. The alcohol content was also just below 4%, allowing workers to down a mug without impairing performance.

“Urgh, don’t know whether to throw this mug or keep drinking,” Johnny complained.

Lucy chuckled knowingly, enabling our acoustic buffer with a gesture. “Now, any further questions?”

I gave a glance to Johnny, who only shook his head. “No. It seems we can move on to the buying.”

“Then drink up and follow me.”

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Lucy led us to another part of the surface level and one of the primary domes that was dedicated to industry in the city.

The major difference being that here factories were all enclosed in their own hardened shells that could in an emergency contain its own life support in the case of a dome breach. Every gaseous pollutant emission was also captured and reused in some way, which made for a very different cityscape. It almost looked like a field of giant tortoises had nestled themselves into the regolith.

We ended up taking a small electric cart and Lucy drove us along a street made of lunacrete to the far end of the dome.

Here we entered a non-descript factory that looked like all the others, the main doors opening only after Lucy was scanned.

The entrance lobby looked normal, like any other similar place you’d care to name on Earth. The highrider manning the reception desk looked utterly bored, but his eyes were sharp, alert and followed my every move. I also perceived cams, motion sensors, IFF receivers, pressure sensors on the floor and even a CO2 sensor.

We stepped into an elevator and here further security interrogated whether Lucy was who she claimed to be; a keycard was slotted in, a code she typed in rapidly, her hand scanned, all the while she was busy further disarming complex codes in cyberspace and keying us as authorized guests in to the system.

The elevator took us down rapidly a total of sixteen floors before the doors opened and we emerged into a long industrial corridor bristling with pipes, conduits and tubing. The hum of machinery and air cycling systems filled the space with a constant repetitive rhythm.

A few dozen feet further brought us to a secure door that only needed a single code to open and beyond was a large space with six large racks of reinforced shelving and mountings all along the wall housing enough weapons of every flavor to equip a small army.

“My old gunsmith would cream his pants just looking at this place.”

Especially because one side of the room had the tooling and machinery to equip mods to the various weapons.

“First, you have to worry about simply surviving on the surface,” Lucy led us to a long crate that stood up to waist level from the floor. A simple code hack and its locks released.

Inside was the clear form of pressure suits in white, but these were not the typical bulky suits that used enriched oxygen air pressure to keep a human alive in the void of space.

“Huh, mechanical pressure suits with only the helmet using air pressure?”

“Precisely, you’re much more nimble in these and there are attachment points for body armor plates. This way you can at least take a shot to the body and not be trapped in your own flaming oven when the bullet ignites the oxygen in a conventional suit. That can still happen in a headshot with this. Given that Gemini you’re in, you’ll at least only experience a blinding flash and not have to worry about your head being roasted.”

“If anyone can get a bead on my head in combat, they deserve to take the shot,” I said half-seriously.

“Just remember, even with a Sandy, low grav and low traction on the lunar regolith will make you slower, but that’s for later. These suits on their own will give you about sixteen hours of life support, which is generally too short for any worst case scenario where you lose your transport and have to hike back. That’s why…” Lucy abruptly whistled a quick high low pitch.

From behind another shelf I heard actuators whining, then rapid steps on the floor and into view walked a four legged robot that stood up to the level of my thigh. It was clearly modeled after a dog and its body was also armored to military standards, which shimmered currently with a white color but I could see it had active optical camo. It had a twitching head with two glowing sensors that rapidly looked around to scan the room, before locking onto us.

It trotted forward before obediently lowering itself to lie down at Lucy’s feet. She rolled her eyes and gave its solid chassis a rub, which it clearly enjoyed as it shuddered and leaned into her touch.

“Meet RALF, or Robotic Air and Life support Functions. Yes, the highrider engineer who designed it was obsessed with dogs and he continues to petition the Confed council to allow him to import an actual canine from Earth.”

“Crazy, never mind the logistical issues, depending on the breed a dog would go loco up here eventually.”

“Precisely, so they rather wisely deny him every time he asks. Now, RALF extends your EVA endurance by up to three days and while it does take charge from integrated PV panels on its back, it has an internal RTG so it can operate even in lunar night without problems.”

I stepped closer to RALF and noted a few mounting points on the back. “Weapon mounts?”

“If you’re confident you can defend it from hacks, then it can provide some fire support.”

She gestured us toward a large table that had a selection of weapons from pistols all the way to an anti-material sniper. Just like RALF, all of them were white and had other adaptations to account for vacuum operation, but each also had an odd mod that was attached to the receivers.

I picked up an SMG that looked like a general copy of the Arasaka Shingen MK.V and was made by a highrider workgroup called ForgeVex Armaments. It definitely massed heavier than a similar SMG built to work on Earth. “This mod?” I pointed it out.

“Moon dust mod that keeps the stuff from clogging the works, which is a pervasive problem once you leave the EM fields of the city. RALF also has a small emitter which will let you discharge any dust that accumulates on your suits.”

“Only Tech weapons up here?” 

Lucy nodded, “Most highriders call them by the old term ‘railguns’. You don’t want to be dealing with spent brass out on the surface.”

I moved on to a large weapon that was called a Vortex LMG. A beast of a Tech LMG that you had to be chromed to wield, this one was gyro-stabilized and had its own micro-thrusters to manage recoil in the low-grav environment.

“Those are generally mounted on a vehicle but you won’t have any problem. My own suggestion would be a combo of sniper and SMG. Your potential range of engagement on the lunar surface is much longer than on Earth. No atmosphere robbing your slug of energy, less gravity pulling it down and your sightline on flat plains will be about just under three kilometers. The moment you get on a hill, mountain or high ground that balloons out considerably.”

“So high ground on Luna is even more of a tactical advantage.”

She nodded, “With that Shattervex sniper, if you were on the peak of Mons Huygens, you could take someone out at over forty miles assuming nothing is in the way.”

Johnny and I looked at each other instantly with wide eyes.

He smiled at Lucy, “We’ll take the lot and are you charging for the training shards?”

“Consider them a gift,” she waved him off.

“What about transportation? We can’t exactly be walking about Tycho streets with milspec gear to our apartment,” I pointed out.

She walked over to one side of the room, where a hip height, two meter cargo pallet with both wheels and thrusters were waiting. 

“All your gear can be stored and secured in this. For your actual journey to the Sea of Clouds, it needs to be via rover, which will be ready and waiting for you at southern airlock G341 when the time comes. Shuttle hop is too conspicuous and there can be no record of one flying to your target area.”

“Well, let’s talk eddies then.”

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We left the factory dome with our mobile pallet, RALF and a bunch of eddies lighter in our pockets but for the first time we could actually consider ourselves armed and ready to actually do some gigs.

The virtual intelligence in RALF was quite rudimentary and I spent the time during our walk back to the apartment evaluating the coding and testing improvements on a copy that I brought into my Relic datafortress.

Then on a slight whimsy I gave the RALF VI the avatar of the gene-spliced Labrador I’d had as a child, Marly.

I’d only had him for six years in my teens when he was literally stolen out of our house yard in Charter Hill. By the time I’d gotten home from corpo school, it was already too late to activate the tracking implant and our security company only managed to find the implant discarded in a dumpster in North Side. Then came the Pet Policies of the late 2060s which made the monthly license to keep a pet ridiculously expensive, consigning their ownership to the 1%, which my family certainly wasn’t.

I threw together a behavioral patch and with a wave of my virtual hand RALF began barking and running around the data pool, before weaving between my legs and demanding attention.

“Calm down, you stupid mutt,” I smiled, giving him a few scratches behind the ears before letting him go and throwing out a neutered daemon for him to play with.

Back in meatspace, we arrived at our apartment without incident, though we did get a few curious eyeballs from other tenants who had to squeeze past us in the hallways.

We set RALF to a standby mode in the corner, where he automatically plugged himself into a wall socket to keep his batteries in top shape. He might have a small nuclear RTG but the default programming was only to rely on it during lunar night.

Next task, get familiar with all the new equipment and especially the vac suits. The materials were flexible and smart enough to be mostly one size fits all, as the suit contracted around you to form the mechanical pressure to simulate one earth atmosphere. The integral backpack containing the life support was barely larger than 13 inches and the suit had its own Agent to manage the systems for the user.

“Do we really need this?” Johnny complained, stuffing the insert uncomfortably between his body’s breasts, before letting the suit contract over him.

“Yes, otherwise the void between your chichis will be filled with your own skin peeling away from your chest in vacuum.”

The apartment’s front door rumbled as someone knocked on it.

Given how strong it was, as it was rated to keep atmo pressure inside the space in an emergency, it meant that our unannounced interlocutor was packing at least a decent set of Gorilla Arms.

A directed thought hacked the cams in the hallway and I gained an isometric view of three highriders waiting outside our door.

The one in the lead was a pale mocha skinned guy with clear scars on his face and arms from regolith abrasion, with a neon violet mohawk hair on his head interlaced with fiber optic strands that pulsed in tune with his heart. He and his pals, wore patched-up vac-suit jackets in black and silver, reinforced with kevlar weave, paired with cargo pants studded with hidden pockets. Finally to add to this wonderful wardrobe, a rebreather mask slung around his neck, etched with the Driftkin’s elaborate symbol on it.

“Fuck,” I sighed in aggravation.

“These our first customers?” Johnny joked wryly.

I gave him an aggravated look, “Given what I can reference about them, I should just slap them with Short Circuits and call Tycho PD, but the guy with the mohawk is a mid-tier enforcer for the Driftkin. I’d rather not get on a major tribe’s bad side so quickly.”

Johnny quickly grabbed a heavy railgun pistol, charged and loaded it, whilst taking a seat at our worktable to keep it out of view, “Just in case.”

The highrider vacsuit was not the best attire for a potentially dangerous meeting which would be setting the tone for the rest of our stay on Luna, but there wasn’t time to change, so I stepped forward to the door and remotely sent a signal for it to open just as the guy had been about to knock again.

“What can I do for you, Dustfang?” I said politely, standing in the doorway with folded arms and solidly blocking any idea the three might’ve had about barging in.

Jax Vorez’s optics widened slightly in surprise as I used his nickname, but he quickly recovered a cool composure. His mouth quirked and he eyed the way the vacsuit was clinging to my form with an appreciative look. “Sawubona, V.”

“Sawubona, what do you want?” I gave marginal points for doing the smart thing and at least looking up who he was about to visit or shake down.

“Merely to welcome you to the neighborhood. It isn’t every day we get an Earther coming to stay in our city, especially one with your credentials.”

“Thank you for the welcome, now stop buttering and get to the point,” I said flatly.

He frowned briefly, “Are all Earthers so impatient?”

“Only when they’re busy or from Night City.”

“I see, I’m actually here for a gig the Driftkin would like to offer you.”

“Really? What’s the pay?”

“We’ll not insult you by offering pocket change, V. Twenty K eddies and a 50/50 loot split.”

“Loot implies that we’re robbing something from someone, usually after flatlining them. What’s the gig?”

Jax looked up and down the hallway, “This isn’t exactly a place for this conversation.”

I made a theatrical twirling gesture with my hand, hacking every cam looking down the hallway, spinning them around in their housings before shutting them down. The doors to the other apartments also locked themselves down and for extra effect I flickered the lights a few times. The three Driftkin flinched at the visible reminder that they were dealing with an upper tier netrunner, who could cook them with a thought.

“It is now.”

Jax wearily held up his hands before slowly reaching into a pocket on his jacket with only two fingers before pulling out a shard that he offered to me.

“Given your history, we thought you’d be interested in this. There’s a fortified transport shuttle currently orbiting Luna, it’s carrying stolen property from ForgeVex and the workgroup is very pissed off about it. The Driftkin wants to do their fellow highrider tribe a solid, so we’re putting together an op to retrieve the property.”

“And you want to hire two edgerunners to make sure it goes smoothly. Who did the stealing?”

“Arasaka,” Jax smirked.

“One day I’m going to turn down a gig like this. Just to show that it takes more than waving an Arasaka flag to get me interested,” I grumbled.

“And is today that day?”

I gave the Driftkin a long look, “No. What’s the timetable for this?”

“Tomorrow there’s a refueling tanker scheduled to launch and meet the shuttle before it makes the journey back to Earth. We’re aiming to be on it.”

I slotted the shard in my neuroport, doing the usual quarantine and sweep. It was all clean except for the smallest of inconspicuous spyware programs that tried to hitch a ride through the process. It would’ve gone unnoticed by the majority of runners and was easily on par with what Netwatch fielded a few years ago.

My metaphorical cyberspace boot came crashing down and deleted it. “Tell your runner, nice try and for that my price has gone up to 25K.” I pulled out the shard and tossed it back to him.

Jax caught it on his chest and rolled his eyes. “Tried telling him it wouldn’t work, but our crew’s boss is the runner in question. Fine, 25K it is.”

He held out his hand and we shook on it.

“Sala kakuhle, V, look forward to working with you.”

I nodded and the three driftkin promptly walked off.

“Really, V?” Johnny said when the door was closed.

“A quick gig will help pass the time until the big one later. I don’t feel like being holed up in this apartment running BD sims for the next three days.”

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Our rendezvous with Jax was the next diurnal day at Tycho Landing Pad 6 in the north-eastern part of Tycho Crater.

It was one of three pads that was solely for use by the highriders, the rest being leased to Orbital Air.

That we were waved through by Tycho PD without so much as a search, despite carrying our disassembled weapons in non-descript suitcases also indicated that this gig definitely had some high level support from the Confed.  

Jax was waiting at the airlock with two others, all wearing similar vacsuits that despite showing clear signs of ageing, wear and tear, was clearly still good enough to entrust their lives to. Armor plates were clipped to attachment points at vital spots, which were further decorated with Driftkin symbols and stylized graffiti. They were already geared up and armed, double checking their rigs and equipment.

“V, Hollow,” he greeted with a nod. “Meet Zandi, our orbital mechanic and tech head for this gig.”

He gestured to a tall, dusky skinned woman fiddling with the seals of her helmet, whilst a low-g multi-tool drone floated over her shoulder. 

“And finally, Luthando, our pilot, who will hopefully get our shiny new armored shuttle down to Luna’s surface in one piece.”

This highrider was practically a walking skeleton, with pale skin dusted with freckles on his face, a classic symptom of having gone on extensive surface walks without enough UV protection in his helmet. He gazed at us both with a distrustful, almost hostile glare before turning to Jax.

“Do we really need these two mudfeet for this?”

Jax punched his fellow highrider lightly in the shoulder, causing Luthando to wince. “These two are experts at flatlining Arasaka grav-leeches and our intel indicates there’s some serious firepower waiting for us on that shuttle. So get your final checks done. We hit vac in two minutes.”

Luthando sneered at his team leader but obeyed.

“He gonna be a problem?” Johnny asked.

“No, he’ll do his job. You can get your weapons out. All cams in this sector have mysteriously malfunctioned.”

It was a quick look in cyberspace to confirm that and I spotted the data tracks of a reasonably good runner on overwatch.

With quick assured movements I assembled my new ForgeVex SMG and slung spare caseless ammo mags into my harness before lifting my armored helmet up and slotting it into place. The suit’s HUD and other data feeds were piped directly to my cyberspace instance, so I didn’t even technically need it to display using the onboard projectors. However, it would look odd if I didn’t use it, so I left it on.

Johnny, had his sniper rifle in two pieces mounted on his back, but had a ForgeVex hand cannon for close-range work. No matter how much he had protested to the contrary, I knew he was still longing for his old Malorian and that was the closest Luna equivalent.

Jax led the way into the large airlock, whilst Zandi did the work of managing the systems to ensure a smooth transition.

We had to wait nearly six minutes after the inner doors closed behind us before my own suit registered us as being in a proper vacuum.

“Stupid pump seals need replacing again,” Zandi snarked over the radio and gave the side of the control panel a good kick.

The outer doors opened and we emerged into the utter silence of the lunar surface, where the only sound was our breathing and the thumps of our footsteps on lunacrete, which reverberated through our bodies. Our helmets auto-polarized under the punishing unfiltered glare of the distant sun that was hovering ever closer to the western horizon. Our walking also had to change since mag boots were useless now, our movement transitioning to a slight bunny hop. 

In front of us, sitting on the pad was a 260 feet tall spheroid spacecraft that was sitting on squat landing legs. Its beige white hull cast a long void shadow to the east and we could see a crew of half-dozen highriders working with long hose and pulling them off the ship’s inlet valves.

I tried not to think about the fact that I was going to ride into lunar orbit not just on a rocket, but on a tanker rocket… which was essentially just a gigantic bomb twice over, waiting to go off if things went horribly wrong.

We headed for the skeletal crew tower that was docked to the side of the ship and got in the elevator that would bring us to the docking collar at the nose of the craft.

As we were rattled inside the rickety ascending elevator, the name of the tanker came into view, stenciled in large letters on the side, ‘Vanta’.

‘V, this thing blows and we’ll be lucky if even our Relics survive the blast,’ Johnny pointed out grimly.

‘Let’s not think about that, shall we? Besides, I’ve looked up the operational record of this one. They’ve kept it in good shape.’

‘Assuming the records are accurate, never know when someone might be covering up something to save their own ass.’

‘True, but let’s be a bit more optimistic, Johnny. I think we’ve got a lot of good karma to work through given the shit that’s happened to both of us.’

‘Urgh, don’t tell me that you’ve bought into Misty’s view of the world since I was gone.’

I couldn’t help the small smile that blossomed on my face at the mention of Jackie’s old girlfriend and my own close friend. The last six months had seen something of a slight estrangement between us, simply because I couldn’t give the Taka faction of Arasaka any excuse to potentially use her and my other friends as leverage. Not to mention the little fact that I had been operating on borrowed time. Now with that behind me, perhaps it was time to make a few calls and reconnect when this gig was done.

‘Let’s just say I’ve seen some distinct weird shit in the last six months on a few occasions that left me more open minded to her point of view,’ I explained as the crew elevator came to a stop and opened.

‘Something you feel like sharing?’

‘Later perhaps,’ I dithered. Johnny would more than likely think I’d been high at the time.

We hopped over the access arm and had to duck into the small airlock of the Vanta. We thankfully didn’t have to go through a whole pressurization cycle as the entire ship was kept in vacuum as a matter of SOP. The only life support the ship had was for the crew to connect their vacsuits to an onboard isolated oxygen supply.

The crew compartment of the Vanta was just the top 5% of the ship, a small module with six seats and a sliver of forward crystal glass to provide an actual view to the outside. The interior looked worn down and used as an old nomad vehicle plying the deserts of Southern California, but still functional in all respects.

Luthando and Zandi maneuvered themselves into the two forward seats for the pilot and flight engineer, whilst the rest of us made do with three of the crew seats behind them.

“Weapon stowage is under your seats,” Jax pointed out.

There was a clever adaptive latching mechanism here that would hold almost any weapon short of a long sniper. It also kept it within reach in an emergency, yet would keep it from being a hazard in any high-G burn.

With my SMG stowed and Johnny and I strapped in, I got comfortable and started to ping the ship’s computers. The cyberspace here was relatively slow and tiny, a little bubble of a universe connected to the greater lunar cyberspace, but it let me get a feel for the actual condition of the ship, which was coming alive as Zandi began startup sequences and checklists at a methodical yet blistering pace. In just seven minutes she turned a mostly dead ship into a bristling collection of potential energy that was breathing, groaning and turning the crew module into a kaleidoscope of flashing indicators and screens. She even extended her personal neural link and plugged it in.

Luthando in the pilot seat controlled the entire ship with a single screen in front of him and a HOTAS setup that had seen many hands wear it down over the years.

“Tycho Tower, this is Vanta 15291, request clearance and clean departure vectors,” he broadcasted, which was also piped into the shipnet for us to hear.

“Vanta, Tycho Tower, clearance granted, takeoff window in three minutes, vectors transmitting. Confirm reception.”

“Reception confirmed. Thank you Tycho Tower.” Luthando tapped a few buttons and holo with a 3 minute countdown appeared on the overhead panel.

In that time I really began to appreciate an OA spacecraft. In comparison, the Vanta was a beat-up hauler. My feet against the bare metal deck let me feel every thump of a valve opening, the groan of pumps and shifting of propellant. In cyberspace, I saw the feed from every engineering sensor and it was not doing my nerves any good. I was no space engineer but a lot of the numbers I was seeing were barely within tolerances given what I could reference.

Luthando did not even do us the courtesy of narrating a countdown.

He just waited until the appropriate time and jammed the throttle to full forward.

The Vanta rumbled and shook as she blasted off the launch pad, pushing down on us with 6G of acceleration.

I bled off my nerves by focusing inward on cyberspace and just luxuriating at the side of my datapool within the Relic fortress.

A wave of a digital hand and I brought up a rendering of Luna from an extremely high orbit and the Vanta slowly shooting itself up into an appropriate interception orbit for our target.

The Arasaka shuttle was at a 110 KM equatorial orbit with a marginal deviation of a few degrees. The Vanta would require just over 2 kilometers per second of delta-V to climb slightly higher, circularize and then another small burn for the final stage of the intercept.

I folded my hands behind my head on the virtual deck chair and watched the delta-V numbers rising and rising.

My gaze found the position of our target.

“Now just what could you have on board that would warrant all this?”

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A/N: V getting back into the saddle without the urgency of a busted Relic bomb ticking down on her life must feel so good. Enjoy your weekend choombas, stay awesome.

The Force Wills - Chapter 125

His eyes widened as he comprehended what the Dawn was doing and what the rest of the CIS fleet were going to do.

“Bastion wing! I want every repair you can get on the Dawn now!”

A lesser squadron commander would tell Anakin that the Dawn was barely within effective range of the Bastions or hesitate because this was technically still an enemy ship and ask how sure he was.

The clone captains obeyed and within four agonizing seconds shield repairs were streaking through space to land just as the surviving CIS fleet opened fire.

Anakin brought up a more detailed holo scan of the Dawn…

It felt like a black hole had opened in his stomach as Ahsoka was bombarded with the full attention of sixteen CIS ships of the line and a dreadnought. She had transferred the battleship’s rear shields forward and had as a result maybe a quarter of the standard strength of shields to survive with.

The Bastion repairs pushed that up to half and whilst the volley from the enemy reduced it again to barely single digit percentage points.

Yet the Dawn continued its charge towards the Invincible.

‘Sithspit, Snips! What are you doing?!’

There was no reply but the blanket of her Battle Meditation was still there so he could only assume she was too busy keeping her ship alive under the bombardment to respond. The sensor scan told the story; the Dawn’s shields were struggling to properly accept the repairs and he was watching the insanity of someone doing a calibration on a shield in full battle conditions whilst it was under direct fire.

“Fark it, this is good enough. 42nd Fleet, it’s time!”

From Velthara’s southern polar region, hidden in the densest part of the radiation belt, three more Venator-IIs emerged at maximum burn and used the moon’s gravity in a sling shot to gain even more speed.

They were called Ecliptic, Colossus and Vanguard and had arrived in Eriadu barely a few hours before the battle had begun.

Tempest, Resolute and Avenger fired their engines to bleed off some velocity, letting the rest of the Republic fleet move slightly ahead of the general retreat.

“Come on, move, move,” he muttered under his breath as he watched the optimal range spheres of his reinforcement rush towards the primary target. “Admiral Yularen, are we ready?”

“We’re at full charge, general.”

He winced as another volley from the enemy reduced the Dawn to a sliver of shield, just as optimals were reached on every ship from the 42nd.

“Fire!”

Resolute and every sister ship’s ventral bay opened and deployed their main guns with as much speed as the mechanisms would allow.

Six cerulean colored collimated laser beams instantly appeared in space, drawing six lines of destruction straight towards the fore section of the Invincible.

Kilotons of armor ablated away yet the beams still tore through more and more layers before they speared straight into the hull and inner sections of the dreadnought.

Six eruptions of gas, flame and debris, that were worth entire ships, spewed out of the drifting capital ship.

Anakin felt his hands clench into fists as he watched the Invincible, still cruising on its original momentum, with only thrusters for propulsion, practically pushed to the side under the titanic blow from six Venator-IIs.

Yet its guns kept on firing and its reactors stayed under combat loads, the collimated lasers having failed to induce even one to scram.

‘Ahsoka, you don’t need to suicide ram it!’

Yet the Dawn kept coming, having survived thanks to Bastion repairs and someone pulling off a technical miracle with the shield calibration to more readily accept the support.

“42nd, fire again!”

“Recharge in fifteen seconds, general,” Yularen pointed out calmly.

“We don’t have that time!”

‘Ahsoka! Answer me, blast it!’

Dawn was barely kilometers away now, so close that most of the CIS fleet couldn’t even get a firing solution on it anymore.

The sensors suddenly registered internal explosions within the Dawn’s superstructure-

He waved his hands into the holos to zoom in as close as possible, even as he felt his heart want to jump into his throat.

The Dawn’s sphereship burst explosively away from the main rear hull.

It fired every onboard thruster it could to push itself z negative.

The main hull continued onward, now pulled into an uncontrolled tumble, but the physics and the course Ahsoka had set for it was spot on.

A few seconds later, three kilometers of tumbling starship became a projectile that crashed into the port side of the Invincible at a relative velocity of just below 900 meters per second.

He watched in awe as the Dawn’s aft section crumpled against the superior armor for the briefest of moments.

His mind struggled with the calculation of the forces on display.

No amount of armor or physical matter could withstand what was unleashed. The Dawn and Invincible could no longer be considered distinct ships anymore, as two seconds later even the latter ship's armor buckled and gave way to the incoming mass and kinetic force.

A small new star was born in the next second as multiple reactors on the Dawn went critical and all the onboard munitions and volatiles exploded as well.

Command One automatically polarized the view of the two exploding ships, yet he couldn’t help the reflex to turn his head away.

“All ships brace!”

The Resolute rumbled under his feet as its forward shields blossomed into view, resisting the energy shockwave.

When it had passed and the polarization ended Anakin could only look in amazement for a few moments.

Invincible and the main superstructure of Dawn was now only an expanding sphere of debris ranging in size from a fist sized clumps of metal to starfighter sized glowing chunks of alloy and unrecognizable components.

The closest three Munificents and a single Recusant had also been mission-killed, their hulls dead in space with huge caverns torn through the hulls and slowly spiraling out of control.

Most importantly, he still felt Ahsoka’s battle meditation.

With certain gestures, aiding by the Force’s guidance, he swiped the holo controls, shifting the view of the room to show him the Dawn’s sphereship.

It was still in one piece, its own fresh shields from the sphereship’s supplementary systems had been strong enough to handle the expanding shockwave and debris wave.

The Bastion ships, still obeying their last order, restored those shields back to 100%.

‘Ahsoka, I’m going to kill you,’ he thought in jest as a full body relief fell over him.

‘Sorry, master. It had to be this way. Even with the 42nd main guns, it would’ve taken two more cycles to destroy the Invincible. Time in which we would’ve lost more Venators than we can afford. Not if we want to keep hold of this system.’

He saw the sphereship’s own main engines deploying, angling around on a new course. ‘You’re landing on the moon?’

‘I’m not about to hog Bastion repairs, master. There’s still a Lucrehulk and a dozen ships to take care of.’

‘Go ahead then. Good work, Snips… and don’t do that again,’ he thought sternly.

‘Can’t promise that, Anakin and neither could you.’

“Skywalker to the fleet, full burn to kill relative velocity.” With gestures to the holo interface he laid in a new course. “New primary targets are designated. Fire at will. Fire at will.”

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The Battle of Velthara would end nine minutes later with no further ship losses from the Republic fleet.

Bastion repairs and the low numbers of enemy ships would ensure that the Separatists couldn’t mount an effective attack. Yet they offered no surrender to the very last. With the final ship to fall being the last Lucrehulk to a combined collimated laser beam strike from the 42nd Fleet.

In the battle’s aftermath, small fleets of SAR shuttles and tugs were launched to pick up escape pods, ejected fighter pilots and salvage critical components from both sides.

Admittedly there were few pods launched from the destroyed CIS fleet during the battle, as in most cases there was little time for anyone to even think about running to a pod before a ship under an alpha strike utterly ceased to exist.  

“We found Trench,” Anakin’s holo said. “The entire bridge superstructure of the Invincible was torn off and flung away by the shockwave. He’s lost a number of arms, eyes and large bits of his head’s exoskeleton, but he’ll survive. Though he’ll need a lot of cybernetics to regain functionality.”

“Tough bastard,” I commented leaning back in the captain’s chair of the much reduced Separatists Dawn. “I assume we’re not just letting him die because what’s in his head is too valuable?”

“Precisely. Trench has valuable intelligence of how the strategic think tank of the CIS works and who are its members.”

“That would certainly be nice to know.” The danger was that it would threaten the CIS side of the equation too much and Palpatine would arrange for Trench to have an unfortunate complication during his cyber surgery. Anakin knew this so I hope he had arranged enough time for either of us to try a bit of mindwalking on the harch admiral. Unfortunately, I didn’t hold out much confidence that we’d be successful in gleaning anything from such an alien mind. “What’s the situation in Bith?”

Anakin knew what I was actually asking.

“No movement. They’re not creating another attack fleet from their defensive line that we can see at least.”

“I wouldn’t either. Not with the 42nd, the new Venator-IIs, Furors and Bastions present at least.”

That someone other than me had come up with the idea for a dedicated electronic warfare ship was rather refreshing. Of course, it was just applying the principle of a specialist ship to another aspect of the battlefield, but it was satisfying seeing the ripples of effect spread from the stone I had thrown into the pond.

Anakin folded his arms with a troubled look on his face. “How long before we have to deal with Separatist Bastions, do you think?”

“They didn’t take it seriously before. That will now change rapidly. I’ll give it two, maybe three months before that day comes.”

It must be seriously infuriating for Palpatine working behind the scenes sometimes. It wouldn’t surprise me if Dooku had the full plans and blueprints for Bastions sitting in a personal server somewhere on Serenno. Yet neither he or his master could let the CIS build it yet, simply because CIS Intel was not that impossibly good. They needed plausibility for the plans to eventually leak or maybe even stage a commando raid on Kuat to steal them.

“Have you given thought to counter-Bastion tactics when that day comes?”

I nodded, “The most straightforward solution is just scaling up the Furor EW concept, but apply it to the entire Bastion. It can’t repair the shields of a ship it can’t see with the targeting sensors of the shield emitters. If that is unavailable then it's just a matter of tactics, quick target switching or spreading out damage before abruptly concentrating it.”

He groaned, “We’re both going to have to do a strategic and tactical primer. High command and the Jedi Council is going to insist on it.”

“The price of victory, more flimsiwork,” I joked.

He rolled his eyes with a slight smirk, “Another matter I wanted to bring up, when can you get the Dawn back into space? The Resolute’s Intel department is calling me practically every hour. Any longer and I fear they’re going to hijack a shuttle and join you down there.”

“We’re still in damage control mode down here and I can’t give you an answer unfortunately. Tech had to take the Dawn’s only remaining reactor offline and is still doing the assessment to see if we can fix the damage ourselves or if we’re going to need a tow back into orbit. Our rapid detaching from the aft section was not done by the book and that had too many technical consequences to really list in a quick discussion. I’m amazed the sphereship’s power grid held out as long as it did.”

Anakin nodded, “Well, I’ll let you get back to it and let me know if you need that tow.”

“I will, Skyguy. Tano out.”

His holo vanished and for a moment I stared out through the large forward viewport at the ‘mists’ of this fantastic moon.

Hunter had managed to land the Dawn with enough precision on a large plateau area, with distant jagged mountains wreathed in the shimmering mists the moon was known for, sitting some twenty kilometers distant to the north-east. At ground level, the reflected light from the gas giant in the sky produced an amazingly complex light show when it moved close to the horizon. It was especially worthy of a painting during the local day when the Eriadu sun also hit the thin scintillating atmosphere.

I got up from the very comfortable captain’s chair carefully and engaged my mag boots to not send myself into a jump in the .3 of standard gravity that Velthara featured.

Another casualty of our damage was the artificial gravity.

The bridge bulkhead doors hissed open and Tech entered with the awkward gait and flow of  magboot walking.

“Please tell me some good news, Tech.”

“We’ll be able to start the reactor in ten hours,” he reported with a pleased grin looking up from a datapad. “Thankfully the former captain had enough foresight to consider the possibility we’re now experiencing. There is enough spare parts storage in the sphere section for a repair of the damaged reactor relays and the fifteen power conduits we burnt out. Artificial gravity can be restored in four hours, since that by default works off auxiliary and emergency power.”

“Sublight drives?”

“No damage thankfully, despite Hunter’s enthusiastic landing.”

“So we’ll at least be able to make the journey to Eriadu IV, good. Hyperdrive?”

“The backup Class 10 is working. The primary was naturally housed in the main hull.”

I chuckled at the weary look in the eyes of the genius clone. “We’re not going to be saddled with the job of flying this ship back to the core worlds, Tech. More than likely this sphereship is going to a new home in the Eriadu surface shipyards and its components will be shipped home for study.”

The clone’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “Of course. It would be a frightful waste of our time, commander.”

“In any event, good job, Tech. Be sure to be at the captain’s mess this evening, 1900 hours. We’ll be eating in victory today.”

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It was during the three hour journey back to Eriadu IV the next day that I had to deal with the unpleasant bit of this war that was not normally a feature of it.

The bodies of Captain Vurk Thalor and his bith bridge crew.

We had carried them to the medical bay of the Dawn’s sphereship on the hyper journey to Eriadu, placing them in the ship’s small morgue.

The original Lucrehulks which had featured much higher numbers of organic crews on long trade journeys to the Outer Rim had needed to deal with a fair number of deaths on any general voyage. Thankfully, the Dawn had not done away with those facilities.

Unfortunately, given the distraction and worry about maintaining appearances during our hijack of the ship, we had not gotten Thalor’s body to cold storage in time to avoid one of the more disturbing things that happened to neimoidian bodies in death.

It desiccated rapidly, the corpse’s face elongating and the brain sac shriveling into tiny pods.

This made dead neimoidians disturbingly resemble the general proportional design of a B1 droid, which was purposeful on the part of the designers.

Their funerary rites reflected their materialistic nature and they generally preferred to be cremated, the remains entombed with a selection of what wealth they had accumulated in life. Neimoidian burial sites were hidden in underwater seas and protected to keep the vast potential wealth safe from grave robbers.

Now I had to organize its transportation to Cato Neimoidia, which would no doubt also involve diplomatic headaches with the Trade Federation.

Thalor hadn’t been anyone of paramount importance, but as a trade ship captain and with his wealth, it put him in the top levels of Neimoidian society. 

That’s what led me to the captain’s private office which was as suitably gaudy and filled with wealth as someone of his station was. Auridium plated items were on display everywhere and he even had an ashtray for smoking that looked to be solid auridium that I could buy half a squadron of Z95s for the amount of credits I could bring with a sale. The floors were covered with paintings and a number of preserved animal skins such as nexu pelts, including hunting trophies on the walls ranging from mounted rancor claws, a reek head with a truly impressive horn and a number of mounted acklay carapaces.

I stood at his large crimson greel wood desk and did not feel like sitting in the ultra luxurious nexu leather chair that looked to be molded for a neimoidian body. 

A quick look at the chrono referenced the current time in the Coruscant senatorial district, before I sent through the comlink request directly from the terminal that Thalor had connected to his desk.

I didn’t expect this call to go through quickly and so I was idly browsing the small bookcase that only had holoslates stacked in them when the holocall connected after only three minutes.

The upper body of Senator Lott Dod of the Trade Federation appeared in holoform hovering above the desk.

“Senator, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I said with a polite smile. “I’m Jedi Commander Tano of the Resolute and 42nd Fleet.”

“I know of you, commander,” said Dod with the reedy hollow accent of neimoidian speech, but he had lost the typical accent associated with the homeworld of that species, reflecting his many years on Coruscant. “It’s difficult to turn a corner in the Senate building and not see you or your master displayed in COMPORs latest artwork display. Now, why are you, a hero of the Republic, calling me?”

Projecting my senses through the link, I was unsurprised to find that Dod was in his senatorial office, but he only had a single protocol droid as an aide at the moment with no other retainers or secretaries in the office. However, I could also sense someone in an adjoining office that the senator had no wish for me to see talking to him; Senator Gume Saam of the Techno Union. It was somewhat of a wasted effort and the pretense of neutrality was so tiresome. I knew that they were dealing with both sides, they knew that I knew, but still the game had to be played.

“No doubt, you’ve heard via your varied contacts that a major battle took place recently in the Eriadu system.”

His chest swelled somewhat in a subconscious defensive display of body language, “I have many sources of information, all quite legitimate, commander, I assure you. However, yes, I have received general unclassified details of the battle.”

I almost wanted to outright laugh in his face. “I was involved, naturally and in so doing came into the possession of the remains and material assets of one of your Federation citizens, Captain Vurk Thalor of the Separatist Dawn.”

“Commander, the Federation has disavowed-”

I held up a finger to interrupt the usual spiel of denial. “I don’t care to hear the party line, senator. I’m here to deal with the facts of the matter only. I have the remains of one of your citizens. No matter what affairs he was involved in or your disavowal of his ideals or actions, his remains and assets need to be dealt with as your culture dictates.”

I held up the auridium plated datapad and began tapping on it to reference the details. “The remains have already been cremated in the morgue of the Dawn and been interred in a solid auridium funerary urn according to the will found in Thalor’s database. In addition, there are just over 120 million credits worth of assets on board and a further 200 million in bank accounts and investments that need to be disbursed to Thalor’s debtors and family. However, the sphereship of the Dawn has been impounded under the Senate’s Articles of War and cannot be included in this procedure.”

Dod blinked his large red eyes in astonishment. “You… want to help make sure he is properly interred according to tradition on Cato Neimoidia?”

“Certainly Senator,” I replied matter-of-factly. “He was my enemy and I defeated him, that doesn’t imply I’m going to loot everything he has to enrich myself, no matter what my Mandalorian forebears might have done in the past. I am also a Jedi and honor bound to respect all cultures that don't act against the Force or life itself.”

I had the distinct pleasure of seeing a rather speechless Lott Dod for a few moments.

“Oh, uh, very well, commander. What did you have in mind about the arrangements for the transfer of assets?”

“After a thorough scan by RI, it will all be loaded onto the next freighter that is leaving Eriadu for Coruscant. Upon which everything will be transferred to your custody as ambassador for your people. From there, I trust that you will make the arrangements for it to move on safely to Cato Neimoidia.”

I wasn’t wearing my helmet at the moment, so let my pointed expression speak for itself and for the final cherry, pushing on Dod’s spirit with the Force.

It had the proper effect and the senator nervously swallowed, “Yes-yes, I will do so, c- commander.”

“Good, I would hate to discover that in a few months’ time, that a barren tomb more fitting for a menial grub was arranged for Captain Thalor and that his wealth had fallen into improper hands.”

He coughed uncomfortably, “You can rest assured, commander-”

“And I will know, Senator Dod,” I pushed even harder and impressed on his mind that it was the absolute truth. Even if I didn’t have discretionary access to RI assets on Cato Neimoidia to do this simple check, HK needed to have a check-in with Rush Clovis anyway.

Word had reached me through Fulcrum that one of the Council of Five, the ruling body of the InterGalactic Banking Clan had been assassinated whilst on Cato.

It had been kept hush-hush so far, with the rest of the council frantically maneuvering to find a suitable replacement as quickly as possible. Only I suspected that the suitable replacement they’d find would already be in Palpatine’s pocket. That could not happen.

“Yes, I understand, commander,” Dod held up his hands wearily.

I pulled back slightly with the Force, “Good. You’ll receive a message when everything is on Coruscant and ready for you to accept custody of the assets.” There was no way I was giving the precise freighter details for him to arrange a deniable pirate operation, which is something he would do as well.

“I understand, commander.”

I nodded, “Tano-”

“Wait! Commander… Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve already said, but I can tell you mean this on a more personal level.” I folded my hands behind my back. “I respect my enemies, senator. Whatever feelings I have about their goals, way of life and behavior, or what makes them my enemy, they remind me of my own weaknesses, they highlight my faults and I never underestimate them. Besides, one day, and don’t construe this as a threat, you might be in Captain Thalor’s position or even I would. And I would hope that we’d both treat each other’s remains with the same respect. Does that satisfy you, senator?”

Dod was silent for a few moments, his red bulbous eyes blinking in astonishment but eventually he nodded. “It does, commander.”

“Good day to you, senator.”

The holo faded and the link shut down.

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Dealing with the bith remains on the other hand was far more complex.

There was a small population of them on Eriadu, who were now living in exile from their home system, unable to visit due to the war. Not to mention the general suspicion they were treated with after their government had aligned with the CIS.

They hadn’t been herded into camps or enclaves, which spoke well of the Eriaduan people, but they were all being carefully watched by the local authorities.

Which is why I had sent out a brief message to Captain Wilhuff Tarkin, enquiring about any contact he had with local bith.

“Yes, the bith are generally represented on the planet by Klyther Voon these days,” said Wilhuff’s holo. “He was originally part of a political movement of bith that advocated for more settlement beyond their home system. That drew the ire of their government and they were branded as dissenters and exiled even before the Bith Harmonic Assembly threw in their lot with the Separatists. Do you wish his contact code, commander?”

“That would be most helpful, captain. I currently have nine dead bith in the Dawn’s morgue that need their funerary rites performed, which I’m given to understand are technically complicated to say the least.”

Bith used a sophisticated chemical process on their dead to transform the body into a resonant crystal, which was then either placed into family mausoleums or in some cases even used in the construction of honorary and very treasured musical instruments. The funeral ceremony itself where this happened could almost be likened to a symphonic orchestra performance where each family member would play an instrument. The music performed was mostly lost on the majority of the galaxy, who didn’t have the proper hearing organs to appreciate it. Togruta were one of the few exceptions to that.

“That is putting it lightly,” said Tarkin dryly, he looked to the side briefly and a file began downloading on my comlink, which M8 immediately scanned and saved.

“Received, thank you, captain.”

“It’s the least I could do, commander. You and that specialist commando squad are a large part of the reason why my home planet is not under enemy occupation at the moment. Just to inform you, I have called for the Quintad to meet and one of the items on the agenda will be a suitable reward for your service to Eriadu.”

The Quintad was the council of the five ruling families of Eriadu, of which the Tarkin family was a member. They served as a distributed executive branch of the government, whilst functional ministers were nominated by them and a democratic assembly acted as a local planetary senate, who confirmed the nominations.

In practice, especially during wartime these days, the five families called all the shots, with the assembly rubber stamping the Quintad’s decisions.

My mouth twisted into a wry smile, “I will say that I was merely doing my duty and that there is no need, but you will insist and therefore I will humbly accept whatever the Quintad deems appropriate.”

Tarkin chuckled, “Quite. You can tell your master that he is also under consideration and that he would be wise to accept.”

“I will advise him so, captain.”

“Thank you again, commander. Tarkin out.”

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The Dawn landed on an appropriately sized pad in the vast Eriadu Shipyard complex, which could rightly be called a sprawling city in its own right.

It stretched over 105 square kilometers, filled with factories making components, tall skyscrapers filled with designers, engineers and administrators, huge expanses of antigrav cranes surrounding gigantic volumes of space where even freighters could be constructed. The largest such space was nearly eight kilometers in length and I couldn’t help but imagine the shape of one of the prettiest supercarriers from the New Eden universe taking shape within those arms and being mine to command.

I banished those dreams as the Dawn shuddered, its landing legs absorbing the light impact of settling on the surface and coming to a stop.

“Well done, Hunter.”

His shoulders slightly slumped as the tension of the moment passed. “Thank you, commander. Getting the hang of it by now.”

Especially as this landing was practically being watched by the entire planet and a small army of local media camped around the publically accessible perimeter around the landing pad. It was treated as a touchstone symbol of victory by the Eriaduans in their struggle against the continued Separatist threat on their border.

I stood from the captain’s chair, “Secure all systems, leave reactor on standby idle. Let’s get back to the Resolute, CT99.

“Finally!” said Wrecker with a big smile. “Though I’m definitely going to miss your cooking, commander.” 

“I’m sure there’ll be more opportunities in the future for that, Wrecker.”

We left the bridge as a group who had survived death together and fought beside each other. It was a feeling and bond in my heart that I wished didn’t need such extreme and violent circumstances to be created.

A specific chirping alert in my helmet sounded and the display in my helmet HUD told me that any idea of relaxing for the next few days was out of the question.

“Mistress, priority Fulcrum message from Dathomir,” M8 reported.

I isolated my helmet, replying subvocally, “Decode, 1 – 7 – 3 – 4 – 6 – 7 – 3 – 2 – 1 – 4 – 7 – 6 – Charlie,” I said, switching to English.

The message from Mother Talzin was just three words, ‘We must speak.’

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It took almost a full local day before I could pull myself away from the post-battle debriefs and bureaucracy that threatened to drown us.

I’d barely had four hours of sleep in my quarters on Resolute before Anakin and I snuck on board the Omen in Hangar Bay Four. 

“You sure about this, Snips?” he asked as he sat down at the control station of the proxy droid systems.

“Fifty, fifty, at the moment,” I sighed as I reclined onto the interface chair and placed the specially shaped circlet onto my head. “I have a good idea of what this is about, but I’d rather not say anything now.”

He nodded, flicking a row of switches and tapping rapidly onto the touchscreens and holos surrounding him. “System’s ready and nominal. Checking signal… it’s 71%, that’s borderline.”

“Can’t put this off. Hit it.”

“Hold on.”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and braced for the disjointed feeling…

Suddenly I was left gasping as the darkened world of my inner eyelids was twisted, my sense of my own body was absent, then returned entirely anew.

Now I was standing stiffly and around me was the docking cradle of a droid recharge station, in a dusty room of stone that had been liquified and shaped by the power and minds of many Nightsisters.

I looked down at my body and saw only the raw metal skeleton and glowing blue emitters of the holo droid proxy. It shimmered a moment later with light and the appearance of me in my Mandalorian armor manifested around it. My presence in the Force surged and blossomed outwards before I reeled it back into a disciplined conforming shape around my body.

The nearby door made of brambles opened and the familiar looking form of Merrin in the red robes of a Nightsister apprentice entered. I had known she would be here, but when I saw her on my last proxy visit, it had nevertheless thrown me for a slight loop. She was in her early teens here and had one of those cute faces that gave you the irrational urge to pinch cheeks and hug the stuffing out of her. It was especially jarring given that I knew she would grow up to be quite beautiful by generally any standard, even with dathomirian traits that usually worked against it.

“Welcome Padawan Tano,” Merrin bowed her head and made a complicated signal of formal greeting with her hands. “Mother Talzin is expecting you. Please follow me.”

I bowed my head in thanks and walked in the apprentice’s wake.

The Nightsister fortress was the same as ever, an eerie place of green lit ichor flows surrounding large stone towers within a hollowed mountain. Though I was seeing a small sprinkling of technology now overlaid within the space from the occasional modern lamps hung on the walls. It was not readily apparent how it was being powered, but a quick dip into technometry provided the answer - the cabling and conduits had been molded into the stone by the Nightsisters control over base matter.

The power itself was coming from a shielded fusion reactor that had been buried even deeper below the fortress mountain. The only reason I could find it at all was by tracing the conduits to their origin point. Sensors from orbit wouldn’t have a hope of detecting it.

So Mother Talzin was finally making good on some of her goals in bringing the Nightsisters more properly into the current era.

Marrin before me turned off the familiar path to the central ritual chamber where I usually met with Talzin and instead led me towards one of the many stone towers that contained the living quarters of the Nightsister tribe. It was effectively an apartment building grown and shaped by ichor enabled matter control.

How they could have this ability, yet still struggle with their reproductive problems meant that there were definitely nuances or limitations to their powers when applied to their own bodies. I had a front row seat to Talzin’s actions when she had molded Savage Opress into the Space Marine-lite version of a male zabrak and enhanced his connection to the Force. It had let me make considerable further progress in my own healing abilities whether applied to others or internally to myself.

My only theory was that it was one thing to shape stone, bone, muscle and so forth, but completely different when you were dealing with the delicate and complex structure of a developing fetus in the womb.

Our path carried us up a winding staircase until we got off on a level about three quarters to the very top of the tower.

Marrin stopped at a nondescript bramble door a few feet away from the landing. She placed a hand on it and let out a pulse of the Force from her hand, which also let a brief visible pulse of gaseous ichor leak into visibility.

Her lips pursed and her gray cheeks darkened in embarrassment and anger.

It took me a moment to parse why - the visible ichor pulse represented a fumbling of control.

Talzin’s haunting triple-echo voice pushed into my montrals. “Enter.”

Marrin pushed open the door and led the way into the darkened room beyond.

It was a small space, barely twelve square meters. A single bed in one corner that was clearly designed for Talzin’s 2.2 meter tall frame, made of bramble and a thin mattress with rancor leather blankets. On the walls, a mounted bane back spider exoskeleton and other examples of dathomiri fauna that Talzin had either hunted herself or just found she liked the look of.

In one corner of the room, a frame carried her elaborate red outer robes, which was usually quite alive and moving under the influence of her power, but now drooped in lifelessness, obeying the conventional physical laws again.

Talzin herself was seated in the middle of the room on a small circular carpet in a near meditative pose that almost seemed like a Japanese seiza sitting position.   

For all that her empowered robes made her larger than life and imposing, even without she was still physically intimidating.

The stark white skin of her scalp was on full display now and a lot more as she only wore dark trousers and strapping over her chest, holding back a pair of reasonably sized breasts that her robes hid quite effectively. Far from being wrinkled, old or ravaged, her skin still looked quite vital and smooth. If she were human, I’d have thought she was in her late thirties. The only indications of her age were scarring around her arms and abdomen from her early days that I knew she only carried by choice.

Seeing Talzin like this did a lot to break her otherworldly aura and mystique. It was still there, but seeing her in the benign and private setting of her modest living space like this did a lot to show you there was an actual living being behind all of it.

Yet, that also terrified me. Why was Talzin showing me this? Why cast off her outer mask to me?

Talzin kept her eyes closed, “Marrin, leave us.”

“Yes, Mother Talzin.”

When the young apprentice had left and closed the door behind her, Talzin opened her silver-black eyes and speared me with an intent look.

“Do you know why you are here, Jedi?”

I nodded, “Yes. You think it’s time to find your oldest son.”

“I do not think, I know. A vision of the future has been shown to me. Our enemy has known where Maul is all this time. He has been content to let my son fester in agonizing punishment and madness for his failure on Naboo.”

“Makes sense, unfortunately. They were master and apprentice for many years, there would be a bond. That would’ve degraded with Maul’s condition, but the enemy would at least know of his survival.”

“My vision indicates something has changed the enemy’s disposition to my son, as such he has dispatched an assassin of sufficient strength that would be able to kill him.”

I folded my hands behind me and pushed forward into prescience. The branching paths before me were maddeningly complex but it was irritatingly clear that Maul also had his part to play. As much as my machinations had pulled Savage away from the path to his elder brother and also saved the Nightsisters from massacre by Dooku and the CIS; it just meant that Palpatine would have to get another to do his dirty work.

Perhaps the enemy had seen the potential loose end that Maul could be or he had simply gotten tired of feeling his distant apprentice’s constant agony and madness.

“How much time do we have?”

“That is unclear, Jedi Tano. You of all people know that these visions are not interpreted easily. All that I can say is that the threat has been made clear to me and that if we do not act, my son will die, his life snuffed out on a world of great ruin and starship debris.”

I nodded as I felt the probability lines shift, tumble and settle into a new overall path. There were two great kaleidoscopes before me and even as I explored both, I recoiled from the one where I just let Maul die. It would see me become an immediate enemy of the Nightsisters as Talzin sensed my inaction. The damage she could do, not just to me personally, but to all my plans and the Fulcrum network with her powers. She wouldn’t care one whit that she was hurting the fight against Palpatine. Maul was still her son and whilst there wasn’t what you could conventionally call paternal love there, there were the bonds of blood and birth - the terrible risk all dathomiri females took whenever they had children.

‘Snips, seriously?’ Anakin thought to me. ‘Maul killed Master Jinn!’

‘You think I don’t know that?! What a terrible risk this is? But I also see what happens if we do not do this. It’s not just a matter of making Talzin and the Nightsisters our enemy. That’s just short-term stuff, in the long term, they are wiped out by Palpatine, their people, knowledge and an entire aspect of the Force… gone! The consequences of that for the future against other threats to the galaxy are even greater.’

‘How do you know she’s even speaking the truth about her vision? That this removal of her outer masks is not just a manipulation.’

‘Please, Skyguy. Give me some credit here. Of course it's manipulation and I’ve done the same to her.’

For better or worse, this was not the original Mother Talzin who had lost everything and sent Savage and Maul off on a path of blazing revenge across the galaxy. This Talzin still had her sisterhood and people, she still had her wits and we still had a common enemy.

“Understand Mother Talzin, we must be ready to shield Maul. The moment we commit to this course of action, the ripples in the Force could potentially be felt across the galaxy.” 

“That I know full well, Jedi Tano. Preparations have been made,” Talzin gestured with her hand and out of a wicker basket near her desk an amulet floated out.

The pendant was about as big as my fist, circular, with ichor green glowing curved patterns etched out of gold, the silver chain was more simple and intricately woven with thousands of tiny links. It floated forward and stopped mere inches from my face.

My eyes widened as I perceived quite a few of my probability lines simply… stop? Terminating as if they had run into a solid wall of beskar.

“When this amulet comes in contact with your proxy, you will receive certain knowledge and experience from me. I’ve studied the memories and feelings of a sister I secretly sent to Coruscant, letting me perceive the Shroud blanketing the planet. It is akin to the many illusions woven on Dathomir and I suspect the enemy copied some of our techniques while he was here. With this knowledge, you can essentially throw your own personal Shroud over yourself.”

“Yet he will not notice me suddenly disappearing from his own foresight?” I asked wearily.

“That is the difference between the Nightsister shrouds and the enemy’s Sith bastardization of the technique. Just as we can make strangers perceive illusions and disappear, you will do the same, only this time applied to yourself within the causality of what you call prescience. The enemy’s foresight will not be disturbed so long as you do not cause too strong ‘ripples’. Words struggle to convey these concepts. With this technique it will allow you to move forward and shield my son as well when you find him.”

“There’s also the matter of breaking his bond with the enemy,” I pointed out gravely.

“Bonds are one of your specialties, are they not?” Talzin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, given that Sidious actually betrayed him, severing it should not be too traumatic. It’ll then be a matter of tricking him that Maul is actually dead. He will eventually need to see a body.”

“That can be arranged,” Talzin said casually.

I winced as I reached out and grabbed the amulet out of the air by the chain.

This is going to suck.

The pendant touched my palm…

Green ichor surged outward a few inches, pulsing and beating like a heart…

I was suddenly elsewhere. The world was replaced with a view of the Nightsister ritual chamber. I saw out of the eyes of a much younger Talzin, as she and a dozen other sisters were instructed by the previous Mother Zalem.

… I learned illusions… how to trick the senses completely… how to anchor them into permanence… there was even a few memories of ichor manipulation…

… a jarring disjunction of time and now a much older Talzin, the Mother of the Nightsisters, showing me her perspective on the Sith Shroud…

It clicked in my mind as my lessons with Bendu on prescient perception came to the fore…

Days of perceived time passed and I perceived Talzin working and experimenting in adapting the Nightsister illusions and I gaped in awe as she wove an illusion that blunted Sidious’ foresight of Dathomir.

She had effectively pulled the wool over his eyes… invisible wool! He would only see what his subconscious bias wanted to see. This could only happen because Talzin had undoubtedly and very carefully probed Sidious on his visit to Dathomir. I was amazed at both her gall and courage in doing so. There had been no guarantee he wouldn’t sense it.

As a final memory, I saw a younger Sidious walking the guest areas of the Nightsister fortress. It was the first time I truly perceived the enemy when he wasn’t wearing the fair mask he showed the galaxy.

My hands opened and the amulet fell to the floor.

I blinked in disorientation as my prescient senses stuttered and caught up with me, telling me that I had been holding the amulet for a mere eleven minutes but it felt like days? Weeks?

“I have given, Jedi Tano,” Talzin said, her multi-voice echoing strongly in my montrals and the Force.

“And I will give in return,” I said faintly, taking a moment to regain my equilibrium and with a thought released into the Force and a flex of will, raised my own prescient shroud.

I held up my palm, and the proxy displayed a star map of the southern reaches of the galaxy.

What a fortunate coincidence that I was currently in Eriadu, as leading west out of the major crossroads system, was the Nothoiin Corridor. Precisely the route I would need to make the four day journey to…

“Lotho Minor, the Junk World of the southern Outer Rim. That is what your vision saw. Maul was defeated on Naboo, cut in half about the waist. He fell down a reactor shaft and landed in a waste disposal barge that was in the lowest reaches of the Theed plasma works. The barge left the planet barely a few hours later, allowing no one to search for his body, neither the Jedi, nor the enemy. He survived the shock through a combination of his zabrak physiology, the Dark Side and sheer stubborn willpower to never give up.”

Talzin weighed my words and eventually nodded. “Good. You need to leave for this world as soon as possible.”

Damn it.

Maul had been deep in the enemy’s inner sanctums for more than a decade before his fateful battle with Obi-Wan on Naboo. I had hoped he would keep for longer and that I could retrieve him at a more opportune date, but Palpatine had gained some inkling that the hell he had consigned his former apprentice to was under threat.

“I’ll make the arrangements.” M8 would get the job of impersonating me again it seemed.

“A final matter before you go. It’s unlikely that you alone will be able to bring my son out of his madness. You may be able to heal his body to a degree, but his mind is a different matter. I have preemptively dispatched Sister Ventress to the southern galactic reaches in anticipation of this moment. Here is her comlink code. Go together to Lotho Minor and with her help, return my son before it is too late… for us all.”

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A/N: Barely caught her breath and already has to rush to stave off another crisis, dealing with the butterflies that have created greater and greater consequences. Hope you had a great read and enjoy the weekend, folks!

The Force Wills - Chapter 124

(A/N: Suggest listening to your fav Star Wars space battle music whilst reading. I suggest Samuel Kim Music: 'Clone Wars Season 7 Cinematic Soundtrack Mix' on YouTube for best results. Listening at the 10:15 mark is especially moving near the end of the chapter :-)

“Are we really doing this, commander?”

I tore my eyes away from the forward viewscreen as the Separatist Dawn cruised through hyper in formation with the rest of the CIS fleet.

Hunter had taken a place at the ship’s helm for the coming battle, as it would look rather suspicious for Thalor to be actually flying his own ship. The specialized clone had so far shown he was decent at it in simulations, especially after a recalibration of the interface.

“Walk me through the chain of events if we don’t do this, Hunter? What would you imagine the CIS fleet would do if the Dawn doesn’t open fire when the battle is joined?”

His fists clenched on the helm station and he didn’t answer, but I could see in his eyes the realization and the conflict taking place. “We die under every gun in the CIS fleet to no effect on the outcome of the battle.”

“Precisely. We must act as a loyal Separatist crew, even if that means firing our guns, torpedoes and Vulture starfighters at our own fleet and potentially killing them. Know that if we weren’t here, the same would happen anyway.”

“We must choose our moment carefully,” Crosshair said from the weapons station.

“Yes, understand that the Republic Navy and my master has not been idle in just waiting for this fleet to land on Eriadu’s doorstep. They have a few surprises of their own to deliver to our dear Admiral Trench,” I said with a satisfied grin.

“Will it be enough to deal with that dreadnought?” Wrecker asked with a worried frown.

“Maybe, it will depend on how well General Skywalker and Brigadier Tarkin can maneuver the defensive fleet. If we give Trench too much time to study our forces then he’ll figure it out and we may lose the opportunity of destroying one of the few dreads in the southern battlespaces.”

I looked at the CIS fleet again, feeling the weight of the forces that would collide within less than an hour.

76 ships including the dreadnought, combined they had enough firepower to lay waste to entire star systems and this was just a single attack fleet. Peeled off from the main wall of battle waiting in Bith.

Anakin had briefed me on what the navy had waiting to greet this fleet and the general plan he and Tarkin had devised.

Naturally, no plan would survive first contact with the enemy and we would just have to ‘play’ by ear.

First to consider was my own situation in this Lucrehulk. The Dawn had an alternative weapons layout than what I generally considered normal. It had 24 heavy quad turbolasers as opposed to the standard 51 quad turbolasers, four twin heavy turbolasers, 185 point defense batteries and 400 twin heavy laser cannons, with the final touch being eight capital class torpedo launchers. A further 1500 Vulture droids could be launched out of the hangars if the battle lasted long enough.

It was clearly a response to survive in the torpedo and bomber heavy Yularen-Tano doctrine.

For the Dawn to survive my own doctrine long enough to matter, it was going to require some tweaking to tactics that I knew was Thalor’s usual bread and butter. It would raise some eyebrows from Trench, but I hoped that the harch would be too busy worrying about the Republic fleet as a whole.

“DT, is everything ready?”

“All tactical paradigms have been loaded to our forces, commander.”

“We’ve done all we can then, our lot has been cast.”

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Anakin stood in a transformed Briefing One, which was now Command One.

The projective silvery haze under his feet was the only visual clue that he was not truly standing unprotected in the orbital space of Tarastra and its many moons.

Surrounding him was the fleet that had been assembled together to meet the coming attack. It was far fewer than he’d like, but he understood that he was just the outermost layer of the defense. It would be his job to make sure that the enemy didn’t make it beyond the orbit of the gas giant and penetrate into the inner system.

To do that he had just sixteen Venators, twelve Acclamators, Resolute, Tempest and Avenger, with nine Bastion cruisers in support.

All of which he had arrayed in a wall formation over one of the outer moons of Tarastra, which the locals called Velthara.

He had chosen it for no other reason in that its orbital period around the gas giant was currently facing the common emergence point from Bith.

Yet it seemed fate and the Force had decided that the battle should have a beautiful backdrop, for Velthara was known as the Ghost Veil among the spacers of Eriadu. The moon was enveloped in a thin, shimmering atmosphere that its own gravity could barely hold onto. It was perpetually cloaked in silvery, shimmering mists which refracted the distant light from Eriadu’s sun. The mists were the result of a mix of volatile mineral deposits deep within the moon’s crust that was brought to the surface by Tarastra and the other moon's gravitational influence.

“General? It’s time.”

Anakin tore his eyes away from the haunting beauty below. “Yes, I know,” he nodded at the holo of Brigadier Tarkin standing next to him.

The theater commander would’ve liked nothing better than to truly be at the front lines, but Anakin had pulled the ruthless card of logic and military prudence. If his defense fleet failed, then Tarkin had to be there to command the rest of the system and sector’s defenses.

He raised his hand manipulating the holo controls at his side, “Skywalker to Task Force, launch fighters.”

The first ready wave of 456 fighters emerged as the segmented dorsal doors of every Venator briefly opened. It was a mix of Z95s with only three ARC170 squadrons in between.

Every fighter at this scale soon enough became like a tiny star of light and energy that zoomed out, combining into a cloud that streamed out at thousands of Gs acceleration.

Soon his view was filled with numerous large holo crosshairs which flashed green, allowing him to keep track of every fighter with a single glance even without magnifying the view. Each squadron and fighter signaling their readiness and status.

With a gesture of his hand, he selected half of his Venators, then twisted with the other hand in another holo control.

In moments, each Venator captain received his relayed order, interpreted by the encrypted network.

The ships twisted on the spot, presenting their ventral sides to where the enemy would be coming from.

“Mass hyper signatures detected. Here they come,” Gideon reported.

One moment, nothing…

The next, the CIS fleet came streaming out of hyper in a perfect formation that seemed to resemble the design of a Venator. 

Munificents formed the bulk of the outer edges, Recusants on either side, whilst the three Lucrehulks were in the rear and at the core of everything was the Providence-class dreadnought Invincible.

“Skywalker to Task Force. You know the job. We can’t let that fleet penetrate deeper into the system. The line is drawn here! Fighters, break and attack!”

Every Republic fighter streamed forward at maximum acceleration, their individual targets designated by local commanders.

Both sides' effective ranges were closing steadily together.

“Not a single enemy fighter launch,” commented Tarkin. “They must want clean space.”

“Less tracking problems for their mass missile launch.”

“They must know we know about the missile Recusant, so why-”

Anakin held up a finger to interrupt, “Trench wants to see what we’ve cooked up to counter it. If there’s one thing Admiral Yularen told me about this enemy, is that he is a ruthless military genius, thrives on aggressive tactical maneuvers. Very clever, but has a tendency to get caught up in himself and his own ego when things go his way.”

The sheer destiny of it. That Yularen had been in a Jedi escorted Republic Judicial Force and had fought against a corporate fleet blockading Malastare less than twenty years ago, which Trench had been commanding. 

Now thanks to Ahsoka, they knew he was the commander of this fleet. Speaking of which…

‘Ready on my end, master, beginning now.’ She said through the Bond.

Through the Force, he felt the slightest touch and then the blanket of her Battle Meditation settled on the entire Republic fleet.

For the slightest of moments, he basked in its reassuring presence before focusing back to the moment at hand.

“Ranges closing…”

The distant enemy fleet was highlighted by the command room’s systems, zooming in and holos were overlaid as targeting emissions erupted and energy spikes were detected.

A storm of concussion missile fire erupted from twelve Recusants, bearing down on the incoming Republic fighters.

Anakin blinked in slight momentary disbelief as the command holo computer displayed the total to him - 11,968.

Visually, in Command One, it was a spectacular display of blue streaks that spiraled up from the enemy fleet and screamed towards his fighters.

Anyone sane would not charge directly into that amount of missiles bearing down on you in a fighter, yet the pilots of the Republic task force did just that. Buoyed by both the inexplicable surge in their spirits and morale, the tiny hints and instinct of what to do, to not fear the enemy and their weapons, and finally the knowledge of what they had to counter the terrifying number of missiles.

“Furor squad, you are a go. All pilots, fire at will!” Anakin commanded at the precise moment.

Two events happened at once.

The two Furor’s charged out of hyperspace, their pinpoint emergence putting them on either flank of the advancing Republic fighters.

The fighters in turn fired missiles of their own.

The Furor’s immediately began blanketing the enemy missile swarm with every erg of jamming power they could produce, whilst the Republic concussion missiles spread themselves out into carefully calculated positions, creating an advancing wall targeting the CIS missile swarm.

Anakin had not been the only one to devise and advance a solution to the new Separatist weapon. A number of vetted think tanks with direction from Captain Wilhuff Tarkin had spent days working out what could be done with what was readily on hand or which could be made given the time available.

And so the Proton Wall had been devised.

Thousands of CIS missiles had already spun out of control thanks to the jamming from the two Furors and every fighter’s EW systems, but it was the simultaneous detonation of 912 missiles with their proton warheads given precisely adjusted fuse timing and geometries that created the true defense.

Mere seconds before the two missile swarms would’ve merged and passed each other, the concussion missile explosions sent expanding cones of proton particles outward at near light speed that interlaced with each other.

In mere nanoseconds before Anakin could even process it happening, nearly two thirds of the enemy missiles ran into the expanding wall of protons and detonated.

Moments later, space was lit up with rapid fire blaster bolts that tore into the remaining enemy missiles that had made it through the Proton Wall as it lost cohesion over time.  

More missiles died and lost locks as the Furors swept their jamming across the survivors.

Anakin winced as enemy missiles, despite all the odds, began finding targets and detonating on his fighters.

Most managed to get their shields into double-front mode where survival was possible, but the missiles themselves had enough smarts to always jink or try and go for the aft section of a fighter.

Eight Z95 fighters exploded, disintegrating into a ball of brief blue flame as volatiles cooked off and debris expanded outward in a forward cone, travelling with all the velocity the fighter had towards the enemy fleet.

It was in all military calculations a fantastic result in the face of the odds.

“Let’s not give Trench time to process that. Skywalker to all commands and squadrons, launch wave two!”

Even as another wave of 456 fighters were launched into space, the Republic fleet began its torpedo attacks.

From the first fighter group alone 896 torpedoes streaked out towards the enemy, whilst the Republic fleet filled space with anti-capital long range torpedoes as fast their launchers could cycle.

Anakin didn’t even bother looking at the computer readout for just how many torpedoes were now streaking through the void towards the enemy. The sight of it rendered in the command room was awe inspiring.

‘We’re being ordered to launch Vultures.’ Ahsoka informed him. ‘Expect another missile swarm, he’s going to test how well we can deploy the Proton Wall, see if he can’t sneak it through.’

1800 Vulture droids detached from the hulls of the enemy or were launched from the bays of the Lucrehulks.

“That’s a rather conservative launch,” Anakin muttered.

‘You’ve surprised him, he won’t go with his usual aggressive tactics. He wants to know what our cards are first before he tries to roll us over. Incoming torpedoes!’

The CIS fleet fired their own salvo in response, meeting the challenge of their opponents.

He considered for a moment using Fighter Group Two’s Proton Wall in combination with Group One’s interception fire.

No, he needed to save the defense to keep his fighters alive.

“Group One, intercept as enemy torpedoes pass you.”

Space lit up again in directed streams of brilliant blue dots of light that stuttered and swept.

He watched the enemy torpedo count plummet, even as his own torpedo count suffered as the Vulture droids also began their long range forward interception.

Mass concussion missile fire emerged from the Republic fighters, this time targeting the opposing Vulture droids.

The range was now so close that kill counts began racketing up.

Small flashes of distant light heralding the death of Vulture droid and Z95 fighter.

Then the two opposing fighter formations merged and began a mass dogfight of such scale that it would have potentially been a disaster without Ahsoka’s battle meditation to keep morale, squadron cohesion and the danger of target saturation at bay.

The Republic fleet now fired their own anti-torpedo missiles as the range on the incoming weapons reached close enough for proper targeting solutions.

He watched the projected symbols for each AT missile crept towards their torpedo target.

First dozens, then hundreds of enemy torpedoes died over seconds in a long stippling wall of fire.

Mere seconds later the point defenses on both fleets erupted and the space around the Republic fleet became a maelstrom of plasma flak and conventional blaster fire.

An Acclamator on the right flank of the formation suffered hit and after hit, bright flashes of protons hammering the shields.

“Bastions!”

The nine shield repairing cruisers were already springing into action. The emanations were invisible to the naked eye, but rendered by Command One for him to clearly see.

The Acclamator bathed in fire as torpedo after torpedo erupted and slammed into the shields.

It seemed as if every enemy weapon that had made it through on the right flank had decided to target this one ship.

Anakin watched as the shield readouts from the Acclamator dipped then rose again, dipped and rose.

“Come on, come on!” he gritted his teeth.

The Venators and Acclamators nearby intensified their defensive fire, rushing to swat more and more incoming torpedoes off their targeted comrade.

So intense was their zeal that they let a few torpedoes through to hit their own shields.  

Finally, the wave was over and the last enemy weapon died to a sweeping burst of point defense fire from a neighboring Acclamator.

The original Acclamator, which only had a serial number for a name, AV3434, was clearly still there.

It had a scorched hull on the ventral side, numerous points of exterior damage that had bit into the hull armor all over from bleed through as its shields had fluctuated, but it was still intact and had only suffered a loss of 30% of its exterior facing weaponry.

‘Ashoka…’

‘I see it, master. Now the question remains what is Trench going to do when presented with the true potential of Bastion cruisers working together.’

Republic torpedoes arrived among the CIS fleet and a repeat of the deadly game was played out. Torpedoes died en masse with overwhelming defensive fire from the Recusants but the penetration aids and EW torpedoes helped entire batches make it through.

A Munificent was bracketed by one such flight of torpedoes and detonated simultaneously on the shields, stripping it completely before two more under the control of the R2 unit pounced on the opportunity to drive them straight into the ventral side.

Its death was heralded by a huge flash of light and an expanding shockwave of debris and energy that wiped out three squadrons of Vulture droids which had been kept close to aid in the defensive fire.

Another Recusant and Munificent died simultaneously to similar attacks.

“Three down against one damaged, in that exchange,” Brigadier Tarkin commented with satisfaction. “Those Bastions are amazing.”

Trench’s response to the lopsided exchange was to release another ‘missile massacre’ from his Recusants directly towards the entangled Fighter Group One who was by this point crossing into the enemy fleet’s exterior perimeter and threatening to intermingle at close range with the capital ships.

“Now that is the Trench I know,” commented Admiral Yularen in disgust from the Resolute bridge, his holo popping up in Command One.

Fighter Group One barely had time to react given the close range the concussion missiles had to travel.

That area of space became a blurred mess as last ditch countermeasures and defensive blaster fire erupted, not just from the Republic fighters but also from the Vultures as their own side’s missiles grabbed any target lock it could in the chaotic mess of the EM spectrum.

Spoofed missiles turned around or flung themselves into empty space or were even turned around to detonate against the shields of the ship that had launched them.

It was a massacre of both sides and only 150 fighters from Group One survived to fly into point blank range with the enemy fleet and began delivering torpedoes when they could and evading flak fire.

Fighter Group Two reached range and another round of torpedo fire erupted from the entire Republic fleet.

Anakin grabbed a set of holo controls, taking direct control of the entire torpedo swarm.

He divided them into two groups and sent one on an upward trajectory on a course that would plunge down on the CIS fleet, whilst the other would approach from below and aim for their ventral facings.

Within moments the separation was clear on sensors as the two clouds of torpedoes diverged, he also gave three hundred the specific job of going after the Invincible.

The CIS fleet responded with a standard torpedo volley in response, but also added another Recusant missile swarm to go after Fighter Group Two.

He winced as he saw Fighter Group One’s status.

“Group One, break off and microjump, you’re combat ineffective,” he ordered.

Thankfully, they obeyed and both Furors who’d also survived so far, shot upward and blurred into the precalculated escape hyper jumps.

They didn’t leave without giving the Separatists their regards, as ninety point blank torpedoes left in their wake destroyed a Recusant-II and a Munificent.

A Proton Wall was launched and withered away the missile swarm, but without the presence of the Furors, the difference was immediately evident as almost six squadrons worth of fighters were damaged or destroyed.

The Republic fleet began firing AT missiles at the fresh incoming volley.  

“Bastion wing, they’ll be targeting multiple ships throughout the fleet in this attack wave. Triage your repairs appropriately.”

“Roger, General.”

Both opposing fleets point defense erupted near simultaneously as they contested and sought to parry the weapons they had flung at each other. EW emissions from Resolute, Tempest and Avenger and a dozen other Venators who had the latest hardware upgrades, were added to the effort.    

On the left flank, an Acclamator’s shields withered and the ship died in a flash of light and expanding debris, despite the Bastions attempt to save it.

The same happened to a Venator in the upper row of the fleet’s center as multiple enemy torpedoes bracketed it.

Three Munificents and two Recusant-II’s died from the combined barrage of torpedoes from Group Two and the Republic fleet.

The Invincible also suffered multiple direct hits from torpedoes that snuck through, but the dreadnought’s shields seemed to hold and shrug them off with negligible drain.

‘Master, we’re being ordered to launch tri-fighters,’ Ahsoka warned.

‘He’s anticipating Group Three’s launch. Let’s not disappoint him.’

‘He’s also going to charge his fleet into us.’

‘I would too, since we’re proving to be better at torpedo dueling and he’s still outside the safety of the mass shadow.’

“Group Three launch!”

This fighter group was completely made up of Z95s and screamed into space as 300 tri-fighters were launched by the enemy.

“Bomber group, begin your runs.”

Y-Wing squadrons surged out of hyperspace from their orbits of the system, launching their torpedoes on the flanks of the enemy fleet at almost point blank range.

The CIS fleet erupted into a cacophony of defensive fire and the tri-fighters surged towards the bombers. A mass concussion missile volley also streamed out from the Recusant-IIs, targeting not just the Y-Wings but also trying to intercept the torpedoes.

The bombers surged through space as they engaged their hyperdrives again, leaving havoc and exploding Munificents and Recusant-IIs in their wake.

One of the squadrons had also targeted the Lucrehulks and Anakin winced as he watched Ahsoka’s ship take three torpedoes on its port shields.

‘Ahsoka, are you all right?’

‘Relax, master. It’s a relative scratch under the circumstances.’

Trench was not one to endure this lying down, his entire fleet’s engines ramped to full acceleration, driving its formation for the center of the Republic fleet and the safety of the mass shadow.

“He wants to turn this into a gun duel.”

“We’ll lose a lot of ships before we can destroy the Invincible in a conventional battle,” Yularen warned.

Anakin nodded, his hands danced on the holocontrols and he layed in a course for the fleet to pull back deeper into Tarastra’s gravity well on thrusters only, whilst keeping their hull orientation towards the enemy for maximum firepower on target.

“Bastions you are to remain outside enemy gun range at all costs.”

With a gesture and tap of the holo he sent another volley of torpedo fire as the Republic fleet moved in retreat.

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“Recall our Vulture droids, launch two fresh squadrons, have them group on our port side for extra point defense capacity.”

My eyes glared at the giant backside of the Invincible as the Dawn advanced in formation. The battle had so far gone quite well, but that was going to change as the ranges tightened. The Republic fleet was retreating far slower than the CIS fleet was advancing. Extreme gun range would be reached in less than four minutes.

“Tech, what’s the progress on contingency delta?”

“Seven Recusant-IIs remain, sixty percent complete.”

“Can you go any faster?”

The genius clone shook his head, “Any faster and we risk discovery.”

“Torpedoes coming into range,” Hunter warned.

“All point defense and Vultures open fire!”

The Dawn almost became like a sun as her 160 point defense guns and every twin heavy laser cannon that could be brought to bear against the torpedoes erupted. Added to this was six squadrons of Vulture droids that I wielded as an active secondary shield that I positioned around the ship. Our higher speed also definitely added both help and hindrance.

It added another complication for the Republic torpedoes but also affected the Dawn’s PD accuracy.

The irony wasn’t lost on me that I was now fighting against the weapon systems and tactics that I had partially helped to design and that if I wasn’t careful, could end up killing me.

The Dawn shuddered as a torpedo made it through to hit the ventral shields, in the process wiping out twenty Vultures from the residual proton wave deflection.

“All torpedoes targeted at us are down,” reported Hunter.

“How many of our Vultures are close to the Invincible?”

“Nine have been folded into defensive squadrons in that sector,” DT22 answered.

My hand slammed on the armrest of the captain’s chair, this was going too slowly!

The forward edges of the CIS fleet had reached gun range, and turbolaser shots began being traded.

“Trench to fleet, Formation Sigma One.”

Frak!

Sigma One called for the rear and middle elements of the fleet to turn and speed ahead of the central core formed around the Invincible, essentially molding the entire CIS fleet against breadth and height of the Republic wall formation.

“Hunter, bring us to the Invincible’s port side, quickly.”

“Going to max burn, Tech, make sure the Vulture’s keep up with it.”

“Commander…” Crosshair’s tone was clear.

“Crosshair, this has to count for something. The Invincible’s shields need to be weakened much more before we can move, otherwise any move we make will be pointless.”

I leaned back in the chair, returning to a complete battle meditation. My awareness surging with the ten of thousands of souls across the Republic fleet, and the hundreds spread among each ship of the CIS.

A last mass wave of Republic fighters were launched as the majority of the Venators were buttoned up and reorientated for the coming fight.

There was a brief pause and as one, Anakin had the entire core Republic fleet launch an alpha strike with their turbolasers.

One moment there was a Munificent, and the next it was just an expanding fiery cloud of debris and expanding gasses.

Not to be outdone, Trench fired back with the core of his own fleet and the Invincible’s guns spoke for the first time.

The targeted Venator’s shields held for the slightest of moments, the targeting spikes and Anakin’s prescience had given the Bastions crucial advanced warning.

All nine cruisers streamed their laced graviton energies towards the Venator to shore up its shields under the bombardment.

The forward shields were gone, then pushed back into existence.

I focused on the crews of the Venator’s Interceptors, as they fired rapidly as fast their emitters could cycle to stifle the incoming damage.

Come on. Come on! I thought. Pushing every bit of coordination, morale and even some light prescience onto the clones of that Venator.

More fire from the CIS was poured in, as more and more of their fleet entered range. My focus shifted to the Bastions, as their crews managed the crucial power outputs and emitters in real time. Compensating for irregularities in the shield grid they were repairing and any power spikes on their own end which could spell disaster if it wasn’t managed properly. 

The Venator held… and held…

For nearly 51 seconds it held the attention of all the guns in the CIS fleet.

Crosshair uncharacteristically gaped at his gunnery sensors as he saw that lone Venator absorb turbolaser volley after volley from the Dawn’s guns.

Anakin made full use of those seconds.

The entire Republic fleet threw coordinated alpha strikes that turned Munificent after Munificent into rapidly expanding spheres of debris.

The fighter battle which was now fully raged between the ships of both fleets only added to the stunning chaos.

I could feel Trench’s shock as he was educated on what a properly coordinated Bastion wing attached to a fleet could do. It was clear he had been part of the camp among strategic thinkers who considered the Bastions a niche gimmick that worked only in limited numbers and would be of no use in huge fleet engagements.

He paid for that assumption by losing nine Munificents and a Lucrehulk.

Finally, sheer physics and timing that went beyond even computer reaction time to manage gave way to the inevitable.

Venator V-04219, a ship which couldn’t even get a proper name, which had endured for a miraculous length of time under fire, lost its shields and the strained grid which had been reinforced time and again, exploded under the punishment.

I felt CT99s anguish and that of thousands of other souls, even as I felt over seven thousand lives being snuffed out to pass explosively into the Force.

Trench felt a sadistic triumph even as Anakin shot more of his fleet away in concentrated alpha strikes.

Let it not be said that the harch was stupid. He divided his fleet into three sections and had each fire on a separate target. He recognized immediately that the nine Bastion’s had achieved their effect because they could focus on a single target. Now they would have to split their repairs between the fourteen remaining Venators and twelve Acclamators.

That didn’t work as well as Trench hoped it would. Spreading the damage between three targets would certainly divide the efforts of the Bastions, dulling their effectiveness in keeping the ship alive with shield repairs.

Even two or three Bastions helping a single ship went a long way to ensuring its survival. The two Venators and single Acclamator that were targeted endured salvo after salvo, yet their shields were only reduced to half effectiveness after a full minute of bombardment.

Anakin used the time to finally give the Invincible a full barrage from the fleet, practically slicing a significant chunk from the dreadnought’s forward shields. I could feel Trench’s growl of frustration as I worked on pushing down his morale and spirit. A task that was proving surprisingly difficult.

His own ego and self-confidence, combined with the non-standard alien mind was fighting against it, especially because it seemed ‘morale’ had an entirely different expression in his species. Far from sapping his will to fight, he pushed away all despair, containing and compartmentalizing it. Then methodically thought of an entirely new strategy to try.

He ordered the entire CIS fleet to split their fire even further and launch waves of Hyena bombers at individual Republic ships.

Anakin in reply, released torpedo firing to the individual captain’s discretion and in moments the ever shrinking space between the two fleets streaked with the energetic white-blue weapons.

In this chaos it was inevitable that the call for Bastion repairs would begin to overwhelm the capacity of the nine cruisers to respond.

A Venator erupted into an expanding sphere of gaseous hypermatter energy, ripping its own superstructure in half, whilst further secondary explosions sent the debris tumbling and dispersing into a glittering constellation of light that reflected starlight and was immediately pulled into the gravity well of the moon below.

An Acclamator as its last defiant act, with great wounds rent in its hull, went to ramming speed whilst trailing energetic gas, bodies and escape pods.

The Munificent that was the target frantically tried to get out of the way, but it was simply too late.

What little shields it had left was no obstacle and only offered token resistance as both ships crashed into each other and became an ever increasing mish-mash of crumpling hulls as the materials obeyed the merciless laws of physics.

The Munificent’s reactor was the first to go and lit up the battlespace in a brief new artificial star that shredded and vaporized kilotons of durasteel in an instant.

Even the Dawn began shuddering as the Republic fleet began throwing turbolaser fire the way of the two remaining Lucrehulks.

I partially pulled away from the Battle Meditation.

“Tech?”

He knew what I was asking and gave me a nod. “We have all the remaining Recusant-IIs.”

“The chaos of battle clearly helped. Is the entire enemy fleet within the mass shadow?”

“Yes, commander,” Tech smirked.

“Do it.”

“Sending the signal, commander.”

The five remaining Recusant-IIs suddenly found themselves locked out of all helm control as all the newly assimilated Republic droids in their engineering departments showed their true colors and began their task.

Maneuvering thrusters began firing and all ships adjusted their course inward towards the core of the CIS fleet and pushed their engines in a redline burn.

Their target…

“Sur-prise,” I said with a huge smirk of satisfaction as I felt Trench’s absolute shock as the light destroyers bore down on his flagship with ever increasing speed.

Due to his fleet positioning against the retreating Republic wall of battle there was little obstacle to all the destroyers making a run straight for the giant dreadnought.

One usurped destroyer did collide with a Munificent as the Republic droids didn’t actually have the best controls over the ship’s movement from the engineering spaces. Neither ship’s shields were in any condition anymore to resist so much sheer mass moving at that speed and another conglomeration of metal formed as the two ships crashed into each other.

Nine seconds since the danger had been revealed and Trench had only barely given the order for his dreadnought guns to open fire…

Four Recusant-IIs shields briefly flashed into visibility against the Invincible’s, before utterly collapsing and ramming themselves into the dreadnought’s port and starboard shields.

It was like watching a 150 meter wide and one kilometer long concertina of durasteel crushing against the brilliant blue scintillating energies of the Providence’s shields as it was pushed into the visible spectrum resisting the sheer kinetic energy and mass.  

That lasted until volatile munitions and fuel began cooking off, causing secondary explosions that erupted along the remaining length of each Recusant-II’s hull.

The reactor cores also finally gave up the ghost as they smashed into the titanic shields and the hypermatter lost containment.

Every eye and sensor lost sight of the Invincible as it was engulfed in multiple blinding flashes of white light.

When it faded, the massive dreadnought was still there, pushing its way through the mass of expanding debris, still powering forward through space like the predator it was.

It had not emerged unscathed from the maelstrom of energies and suicidal impacts of the Recusant-IIs. Numerous shield sectors were flickering in clear weakness before coming back online in stuttering bursts.

“Crosshair, it’s time we show our colors.”

“With pleasure, commander.”

‘Anakin, do stop shooting at me please.’

‘The order is already given.’

The Seperatists’ Dawn turned eighteen of its heavy quad turbolasers it could bring to bear on the aft section of the Invincible.

“Fire,” I ordered.

Crosshair unleashed the full might of the battleship, pouring heavy turbolaser fire and every torpedo that the Dawn could fire in as short a time as possible, emptying the ready magazines.

The Dawn’s Vulture droids abruptly whipped around in their various dogfights around the intermingled fleet and started firing on the CIS droids, firing off concussion missiles that had been carefully saved for this exact moment.

All four of the Dawn’s twin heavy turbolaser batteries and three hundred heavy laser cannons unleashed their fury on the nearest neighboring Munificent.

Its shields were battered down in seconds and a freshly launched Hyena bomber wing from the Dawn delivered the final blow, shattering the aft section and sending its engine module spinning off into space whilst the rest of the ship tumbled out of control with secondary explosions erupting.

The aft shield of the Invincible collapsed entirely under the full alpha strike bombardment of the battleship. 

The Republic fleet pounced on the moment, turning every turbolaser on the forward shields as well with another simultaneous strike.

Trench took the unbelievable betrayal of Thalor against him with only momentary shock and pivoted his thinking.

A dreadnought’s shields, with the effective strength of a militarized Golan space station, were not the only formidable defenses it had. Free Dac Engineering and Rendili had proven with the armoring of the Malevolence earlier in the war, that they knew what they were doing in rendering these ships not only reliant on their shields in a fight.

Even as the combined turbolaser fire from Venators and a Lucrehulk poured into the gaps in the shields, the armor simply ate the damage, shedding ablative layers and the dreadnought kept going.

Trench unleashed an alpha strike of his own against a nearby Acclamator, reducing it to an exploding cloud of debris and bodies within seconds.

I could feel Crosshair’s controlled rage, which he viciously clamped down on, before simply adjusting and fine tuning the aim of the Dawn’s guns.

The next volley from the heavy turbolasers narrowed down to a point and terminated perfectly in the massive circular maw of one of the three radial ion drives on the Invincible’s aft section.

The explosion blew out the main engine bell into fragments and the entire ship shuddered as the drive shattered under the blow.

I had to give the Free Dac and Rendili their due on this, they built a ship to last. As the damage was largely contained and channeled by the design of the surrounding hull. Only one drive was lost and the other two only suffered minor damage.

The dogged determination of Trench, the unfeeling droids only obeying orders and the few organic volunteers in the CIS Navy rallied behind their fleet commander.

Seventeen ships continued their charge forward against the dwindling numbers of the Republic fleet.

13 Venators and eight Acclamators remained in the battle.

Separatists Dawn began to be hammered by the aft bearing weapons of the CIS fleet and every Hyena bomber streaked towards us.

“Recall every fighter to orbit the Dawn, direct our Vulture’s on PD duty to intercept,” I ordered as the bridge’s lights around me began to flicker, the hull shuddering as our forward shields were hit with turbolaser volleys. The probability lines of the future were extremely chaotic and it was an utter mess to sort through, but one thing was clear. “Frak it. Launch everything we have! And don’t stop until I have a sphere of droids surrounding the Dawn!”

“Shield grid fluctuation in dorsal quadrant 31, compensating!” Tech had stopped using his hands at the engineering consoles and stabbed his armor’s logic probe into the system, interfacing directly for more speed.

“Hunter, keep our forward momentum, yaw the ship to port full 180 degrees.”

“Yaw port full 180, roger!”

I probably could’ve just transferred aft shields forward, but the number of probability lines showing the Dawn’s strained shield grid utterly failing when that was done was just too high at the moment.

Instead I did the first ever drift of a Lucrehulk in mid-battle whilst under heavy fire, a maneuver that really should’ve only been done on a fighter.

“Point our engines directly at the Invincible. Crosshair you will have every heavy turbolaser to bear, make it count!”

On scan holo, the Dawn was looking more and more like a spheroid ship as more and more Vulture droids poured out into space and into a formation around it. The only clue to the naked eye that it was happening was when heavy blaster cannon fire from the Vultures streaked out into space to intercept a torpedo or when a droid fighter exploded from incoming turbolaser fire.

Using them as an extra layer of literal ablative shields wasn’t exactly efficient but every little bit helped at this point.

The fresh aft shields were now taking the strain and I didn’t even have to order Tech to begin pouring every spare erg of power to regenerate the badly depleted forward facings.

Another Venator died as Trench, with the benefit of droid networked coordination, quickly switched the target of his entire surviving fleet towards it, before strained Bastion repairs could even land.

I shook my head in disbelief even as I admired how quickly my enemy adapted to a literal game changer level paradigm shift in fleet warfare.

The two fleets were now two figuratively two martial artists holding each other by the collars and slamming punches and knees home into their opponent.

The battle was now moving beyond Velthara, deeper into the gas giant’s radiation belts.

I gritted my teeth as the Dawn’s aft shields were worn down.

‘Anakin, any time now, please.’

‘Not yet. Just a little-’

A volley from the Invincible’s aft guns went straight through our Vulture droid screen and into a newly opened gap in the Dawn’s shields.

The hit crashed on the dorsal aft armor of the Lucrehulk sending a fountain of debris upward and a brief gout of flame.

I had seen it coming and flung myself to the deck and Force Pulled the rest of CT99 out of their chairs.

Dawn rocked violently from the blow and the bridge became a cacophony of sparking systems, flame, shooting debris and smoke.

Tech jumped up to his station, “Direct hit to center sector 39! Reactor scrammed successfully. We’re down to only one in the main hull and those in the centersphere are straining to take the load!”

“Damage control!” I snapped.

“Responding!”

“Crosshair, can you still fire?”

The clone was already back in his seat, “Yes, commander.”

“Fire on the Invincible’s engines, take them all out!”

Crosshair viciously jabbed at his controls.

The wounded Dawn lashed out with every weapon that could be brought to bear, even turning its PD weapons that just barely had the range to reach.

588 weapons, ranging from anti-fighter all the way up to capital scale heavy turbolaser erupted from the ship and reached out towards the Invincible’s aft.

The barely recovering shields were hammered away and in mere seconds both remaining sublight drives of the dreadnought shattered into debris and radiating energies.

The Invincible’s engines were gone, the dreadnought would not be going anywhere no matter what happened in the rest of the battle. Even if the rest of the Republic fleet was destroyed, the remaining forces in Eriadu would be enough to end the threat.

“Targeting spikes from the CIS fleet, they’re turning to bring all guns to bear on us!” shouted Hunter.

I stared at each member of CT99 even as I felt Trench’s rage that had overcome even his self-control. He’d had enough of the traitor harassing his back and now had even stopped firing on the Republic fleet.

“Vode*… whatever happens in the next few minutes, it’s been an honor. Yaw the ship around, maximum burn for the Invincible.”

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Mandalorian- *Vode - brothers

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A/N: Whew, that was a fun blast to write. Enjoy your weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 123

I’d captained kilometer long starships, flown starfighters in a dozen odd battles in this war.

Yet that didn’t make actually flying a Lucrehulk an easy thing.

The helm station interface had been optimized for the basic input abilities of a B1 droid with its three fingered manipulator on each arm. As a result, I had to imitate the Vulcan salute on both hands to work the interface’s touch screen and buttons in any sort of efficient manner. The calibration settings were also meant for durasteel manipulators, so I also had to stiffen my fingers to get the correct inputs.

“Are we clear, DT22?” I asked the tac droid.

It was now standing beside me, arms folded behind its back as it acted as my patsy chess master to the assimilated and enemy droids on board the Lucrehulk.

“All access routes and airlocks are secured, commander.”

“Tech, how’s engineering looking?”

The clone was rushing back and forth along the large bank of controls on the right side of the bridge that governed power and engine systems of the battleship, making adjustments on the fly. Thankfully, he didn’t have my problems as most of the controls on that side had been adjusted for the bith to work on.

“Main reactors are spooling to full output, you’ll have engine power in ninety seconds.”

“Crosshair, how are you finding the weapon controls?”

“They are pathetic, commander. It’s a wonder the clankers can hit anything.” I gave the taciturn clone a pointed look. “But yes, I will be able to use them to defend this ship adequately.”

“Hunter, how’s the ship’s scanners?”

“The adjustments DT22 made is good enough. I’ll be able to be our eyes out there.”

“Wrecker?”

The big clone straightened from the rear of the bridge, where he’d just finished laying some claymore equivalent directional charges.

“Traps are set, anyone forcing their way into the bridge will get a big surprise, courtesy of yours truly.”

“Good, undocking.”

The massive tubular entryways attached to the Lucrehulk class battleship Seperatist’s Dawn broke their seals and swung out of the way.

“Just received a message from shipyard control, they want to know what we’re doing,” Hunter announced.

“Send back, text only, that we’re securing ourselves from potential boarders and saboteurs, not to mention dodging the uncontrolled ships and stations floating out there,” I said in exasperation.

Half a minute later the reply came and Hunter smiled, “Looks like they bought it, commander. They’ve even gone through the trouble of sending us a course.”

“Well, then we shall make good use of that,” I smirked and with a hard swipe, fed main power to engines and used aux thrusters to begin giving the colossal ship some velocity and reversed out of the docking cradle to the space station.

It truly hit my senses how big the craft I was flying now was. Just over three kilometers across its circular C-shaped structure and as tall as the length of an entire Venator. I had to partially embrace the Force to aid my piloting, as my conventional flying instincts in a Z95 just didn’t translate to something this big.

“Blast it! Commander, an out of control Recusant, on a collision course from below!” Hunter shouted. 

“I see it,” I gritted my teeth and applied maneuvering thruster burns and swiveled the battleship around as we coasted on the initial momentum achieved.

The problem was I couldn’t just use the giant main engines at the moment, not without utterly wrecking the station, which was just a few hundred meters behind us.

There was no way we had the velocity to dodge the Recusant conventionally.

I slewed the Dawn slightly further then applied hard counter-thrust and at just the right moment, and dropped all shielding.

“Karkin’ sithspit!” gasped Wrecker, not believing his eyes.

The Recusant's nose slipped right between the forward gap in Dawn’s main hull, practically threading the needle, except between ships massing multi million kilotons.

I hurriedly threw on the dorsal thrusters to give negative z-velocity to the Dawn, speeding up the process as the Recusant's own spin would end up slamming its aft’s into the battleship’s interior hull sphere if I didn’t.

Every member of CT99 watched in awe and gritted teeth as the Recusant’s hull seemed to loom closer and closer.

“Oh, kark, oh kark…”

Even Tech was frozen stiff at this station and Crosshair was left gaping as…

The Recusant's aft engines nacelles ended up missing the Dawn’s sphere hull by just nine meters.

“Clear,” I declared and pushed every thruster the ship had to scrub the odd vectors and push forward on the course we had been given.

Gasps of relief echoed across the bridge.

“That’s… that’s…” Tech was gaping.

“With all due respect, commander,” Crosshair turned to me. “That’s utter bantha fodder.”

“Yeah, I have to admit that was a close one,” I said, regaining equilibrium and feeling my butt unclench. “Shields up.”

I put the Dawn properly into the course given by shipyard control, which angled away from the chaotic mess we had caused.

When we were finally just over 50km from the station, I flared the engines into a burn that gave the ship an ultra high orbit over Bith of over six thousand kilometers.

“All right, Tech, what’s the ratio of assimilated droids to enemy ones?”

The super intelligent clone needed only a moment, “29% and rising as we speak.” 

“DT22, no resistance so far?”

“None, commander. I’ve been carefully managing the assimilation. Ordering deployed squads to meet superior numbers of assimilated droids. In addition to ordering enemy droid squads to either shut down or recharge, which makes assimilation a no-risk scenario. I calculate only a six percent chance of any hostilities breaking out on the ship between loyal droids of the Republic and the enemy.”

“Now there’s something I never imagined coming out of the mouth of a droid,” commented Wrecker.

“Shabla,” I grunted as a shifting annoying probability line hit me.

I set the helm to computer control and stood, using the Force to begin flinging parts of dead droids and bodies to one side of the large bridge.

Then gathered the severed head of the neimoidian captain and his body, “M8, scan the body, give me a full holodisguise.”

“Yes, commander. 23 seconds to complete.”

That was good enough. “Interface with the ship database, get me his full file and an image of his quarters.”

“Projecting to the HUD, commander.”

I started reading as quicking as possible whilst shoving the body to the corner to join the pile.

CT99 stared at me with weary looks.

“Tech, we’re going to inevitably get a holo transmission from whoever is in charge over there, modify the bridge holoscanner to focus only on the captain’s chair. Scan those bith bridge crew and get holodisguises for the rest of the team.”

The genius clone’s eyes widened behind his specs in realization, “Of course! Will be done in a few moments.”

“The rest of you, check your stations and make sure everything’s looking as good as it can.”

CT99 jumped to obey.

In the end, it took just under eight minutes to set a suitable stage for the call that was coming.

I was now donning the appearance of the late neimoidian, Captain Vurk Thalor.

He was tall, even for a member of his race, so his chest ended up being projected around my head, whilst I had to carefully arrange my legs, so the holo legs didn’t end up being disrupted through the floor. He had been just under fifty years old, which for their species, was a seasoned, respectful age to reach, with mottled green-gray skin that was slightly paler due to his many years aboard starships. 

His large, calculating red-orange eyes were framed in a perpetual squint. The hat he wore as a signature of his station was deep purple with gold trim, whilst his robes were luxurious yet practical, layered with hidden reinforced armor plates, hinting a paranoia about assassination, which was an ever present danger in his society. Their power plays didn’t stop just because the neimoidians were at war.

The final touch on the disguise was clutching an elaborate auridium plated datapad in my left hand that I had to fetch from his nearby quarters.

M8 had reviewed days worth of surveillance footage in minutes to build a mannerism set to use for impersonating Thalor, in addition to adjusting the voice emulation.

“Incoming transmission,” said Hunter, who had taken over at the helm in his new bith disguise. 

“Put it through,” I said impatiently. Thalor’s vocal emulation had a hollow note with an accent in his Basic that pegged him as coming from Cato Neimoidia.

The holo that appeared in front of me gave an immediate instinctual feeling of revulsion, that I clamped down on.

I dared anyone not to feel that when a nearly two meter tall harch, with six arms, two legs, and six red eyes set in a glaring, mandible face with a large fanged mouth, stares at you. Then add thick brown fur onto those arms with three fingered hands to this nightmare and you had something that made me want to pull out my lightsabers. Adding to the revulsive horror, was a body with just enough proportions that allowed the harch to wear deep blue robes and gray pants and legs that ended in feet with two large toes that ended in sharp keratin spikes.

My face quickly adorned a mask that showed annoyance but still conveyed a respectful tone.

“Admiral Trench, it’s good that someone from high command finally contacted me. I have a schedule that has been hopelessly interrupted by this disaster.”

Trench’s mandibles clicked, “Hmmm, yes, Captain Thalo. It seems we’ve been hit by sabotage. We are still piecing together just how it was done. How much of your supplies were you able to deliver?”

“54%,” I scowled into Thalo’s datapad and tapped the device, scrolling through the ship inventory ledgers. “There is no way we’re going to be able to finish the refits now.”

It turned out, in one of those lucky coincidences, that the Dawn was one of the main ships that had been supplying concussion missile launchers that were to be mounted on the new Recusant ships.

“Yes, it’s a significant setback. However, the small probing test we did in Eriadu validated the design against the enemy.”

“That is good to know, but what use is it now? There’s only two of the new ships left, hardly enough to make an impact.”

“Perhaps, in the meantime we’ll just have to make do. I want the Separatists Dawn to rendezvous with the following Recusants in our main battle line. Deliver enough cargo directly to each ship, the local crews will then mount the concussion launchers. It’ll be suboptimal and take more time, but it’ll at least get done.”

The list of ships came through the comlink and into the Dawn’s main computer, which I referenced immediately through the custom datapad.

Trench wanted at least two squadrons of Recusants refit to the new standard, judging by the list. Was he seriously thinking of going all in with the mainline fleet against Eriadu?

Probably not, because if it failed he was risking the Republic pushing into the CIS by a full sector in the south.

It was also interesting that Trench should be here of all places in the CIS. I remembered him well from my past life, simply because of his creepy visage. Yet the vagaries of fate, my own actions, the chaotic ever-developing war and the Force had changed the harch’s original destiny to find himself in command here, alongside Durge.

I swiped the file closed, “Very well, Admiral. I will set a course immediately.”

Trench’s mandibles clicked together in what seemed to be indicating a pleased satisfaction. “Good. Oh, my compliments to your ship’s pilot for that impressive evasive maneuver. Trench out.”

The holo faded.

“Now what?” asked Wrecker, his bith disguise rippling slightly as he turned quickly from the engineering stations.

“We do as exactly as ordered,” I smiled with an evil grin that I hoped translated properly on my disguise. “After all, it would be a shame to lose this opportunity to properly utilize our new droids.”

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An efficient course was set towards the dense cloud of warships that represented the main CIS line fleet.

At max burn it took just four minutes to reach and settle next to the first new target of the mission, which I managed with little issue.

This specific Recusant was called the Defiant Resolve and was captained by the first human I’d ever seen in such a role.

“We’re extending our docking collars now,” said Captain Veyl, a towering onderonian with a wiry frame, wearing a modified CIS uniform in black with crimson accents and a golden sash from his right shoulder to left hip, with a curious symbolic badge clipped to it. M8 scanned and with a bit of database research indicated that it meant he was a royalist firmly in the camp of Sanjay Rash. The monarch who had taken the Onderon throne with the CIS’ help.

“Contact, successful seal,” I confirmed idly as I stared at sensor readouts through my expensive datapad. “I’ll be sending droids from the Dawn to make the deliveries of components and supplies. I’ve designed their schedule myself, so please appraise your crew to not interfere. We’re on a tight enough schedule.”

Thalor was known for a certain technical savvy and would often micromanage droid crews for maximum efficiency in his own terms.

“Understood, Captain. We’ll stay out of your way.”

“Thalor out,” I said curtly, then turned to DT22 when the holo was gone. “Are our delivery units ready?”

“Units one through eight are assembled with a designated infiltrator droid in each that will remain behind, commander. Units nine through 24 will be constituted within the next half hour.”

“Tech, are you satisfied with their programming?”

The clone looked like he was having mild constipation for a moment, “Commander, maybe I should just look at it-”

I raised a hand to stop him, “Tech, you’ve already quadruple checked it. I know enough programming to realize that you’re chasing impossible perfection. I should’ve asked, will it be good enough?”

He reluctantly nodded, “Yes, commander.”

“Excellent, good work. DT, send our first delivery.”

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“This is grave news, general.”

Gideon Tarkin stood in Briefing One aboard Resolute and stared at the scaled down holo of the new build Recusant rendered in as exacting detail as possible. Some of it was interpolated and best guesses from both computer, droid and organic analysis from the RI department in the bowels of the ship.

“If we can no longer assume that our fighter forces can plug the gaps in defenses that open up after offensive waves on the front lines, this war is going to become much less static than before. We’ll be trading entire sectors through each phase, which threatens many worlds to attack in the Seswanna and Sluis sectors.”

“Unfortunately, but it can’t be helped. We’re reaching a hard limit in the EW capabilities that a fighter can squeeze into itself, unless a new technical breakthrough is achieved,” Anakin walked around the holo Recusant, scowling into it and wracked his mind for some solution to the problem.

Tarkin lightly pinched his own chin as he thought about the problem, but his eyes widened and a small smile of realization came upon him. “Then what if we simply get more space.”

He waved in the air, a holopanel appearing in front of him. It took a few moments to get used to the new interface but he managed to display a vaguely saucer shaped light freighter.

“Have you seen the latest YT freighter model from CEC yet?”

Anakin nodded, “The 1300? Yes.”

“As you can see, it's designed to be very modular and adaptable to multirole cargo and passenger. It can even carry external cargo containers in its forward hull mandibles here. Take a look at the speed and maneuverability figures.”

He looked and frowned at the projected specifications, “3000G? Class 2 Hyperdrive. Over 15 degree traversal per second. How’s it doing that with all the mass?”

Tarkin fiddled with the holo, which zoomed in. “It’s the latest core from Quadex. It’s naturally civilian grade, but that can be changed. Along with adding laser turrets on the dorsal and ventral sides, along with concussion missile launchers in the nose.”

“All right, so it can defend itself, not to mention its shields are quite strong. How is that going…” Anakin blinked as he connected the dots. “You want to make a dedicated EW craft that can keep up with fighters.”

“Precisely, with the modularity in the design we can cram that ship with hardware to jam hundreds of missiles simultaneously. Create a half squadron of them to escort a bomber or fighter wing…” He gave Anakin a determined look.

“That’s fine, but can we do it here? In enough time for it to matter. The 1300 is only at the prototype stage in Corellia and it would be a six day journey for them to reach Eriadu. Not to mention doing the militarization work and sorting out any problems encountered along the way.”

“As it so happens, we have a branch of CEC on Eriadu and they already have two of those ships on display for marketing to potential buyers.”

“Are they hangar queens?” Anakin retorted.

Tarkin chuckled, giving him a funny look. “What an interesting turn of phrase. You mean they’re just showroom floor models with no functionality? No, they’re fully functional, spaceworthy prototypes. The problem will be convincing the local branch of CEC to give them to us.” 

“As a high officer in the GAR, I have the authority to nationalize and requisition any asset in the defense of the Republic. CEC can look to the Chancellor’s office or Jedi Council for compensation if it comes down to it.”

“Well then, General Skywalker, shall we go get ourselves a shuttle?”

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The local general manager of CEC, in the end, only put up a token protest at the commandeering of the only two YT-1300 prototypes in the southern reaches of the galaxy.  

Anakin had felt the man was only doing it to at least show his own boss back on Corellia that he had done his due diligence. He knew full well how close the CIS was to overrunning the system and if his YT1300s could somehow help, then he’d give them up in a heartbeat. As it beat living under Separatist occupation, detention and interrogation for further CEC secrets.

Hangar Bay Two and Three in the nose of Resolute was now playing host to both identical ships.

Assembled in front of him was a small host of engineers and yardworkers from the Eriadu shipyard, including a full contingent of their clone GAR counterparts from Resolute’s engineering department and starfighter maintenance.

“All right, listen up!” Anakin projected his voice to reach every ear. “On your personal datapads you will find uploaded the manuals and blueprints of these ships, including some of my own notes and designs appended to it. Sorry if they’re a bit rough, but I only had eight hours to prepare them for you.”

He could see a bunch of men, a few women and clones mutter to each in disbelief as they stared into their datapads.

“Anyway, our first job is to detach the modular sections of the 1300 from the base spaceframe. Once that is done, the shipyards are already working on fabrication of the custom emitter dishes and we need to incorporate the electronic warfare systems from two dozen Z-95s into these hulls, including the cradling, power and data transmission trunks to accommodate at least ten R2 droids.”

“The power core also has to be pulled, that I will work on personally with a few engineers from Resolute. We need to get this ship to at least 3500G and Class 1 hyperdrive if they’re going to fly alongside fighter squadrons.”

“Finally, will come the weapons, but that’s the easy part, the parts for which are already onboard. Any questions?”

A single hand was raised.

A relatively small female engineer, who Ahsoka would call ‘mousy’ and ‘cute’, but with a starships tech’s tool belt around her coughed with embarrassment as every eye looked at her.

“Yes, uh, general. How long do we have to do this?”

“I want these ships in space, running exercises and trials, within three days.” Astonishment rocked the assembled engineers, and mutters of disbelief echoed. “I say so, because we expect by day five that the Separatists will launch another attack on Eriadu. If these ships aren’t in space, then our fighters and bombers will be dead.”

“That’s impossible,” said another engineer in the back of the small crowd.

“Not impossible,” Anakin countered immediately. “As long as you follow my direction when I give it with a much more open mind than that. Now… let’s begin!”

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“Commander?”

The tone and incredulous nature of Hunter’s question spoke for the rest of CT99 as they stood uncertainly in the wide doorway leading to Captain Thalor’s private dining area.

The neimoidian, as the captain of a Lucrehulk, by default had to be a very wealthy, even prominent individual in their society and his dining room reflected that.

A long rectangular wooden table and elegant chairs made of crimson greel wood from Pii IV, some of the most expensive in the galaxy due to the elaborate and ornate spirals, waves and bands that naturally grew in the material. Artwork from a dozen worlds adorned the walls, with a massive hand painted portrait of Thalor dominating the wall behind the head of the table.

It felt a bit macabre to be stared at by such a huge version of the neimoidian I had beheaded just a few days ago and to be using his dining room to eat.

On the table, was half a dozen large dishes steaming with food waiting to be devoured, made with food from the massive personal pantry that was managed by its own protocol droid. I had double checked its programming to make sure its assimilation protocol had taken properly. It would be just like Thalor to have some sort of contingency program that would activate on his death - feeding poison to those who had killed him via his inoffensive butler droid.

Even so, I wanted to keep up my culinary skills developed in Mortis, and had personally invaded the officer’s kitchen to make every dish on the table.

“Mynock got your tongue, CT99?” I laughed. “Come in, switch off your holodisguises, helmets off and sit, dinner is served.”

They looked at each other and obeyed hesitantly, mostly due to the fact that they were looking at my true face without a holo or my personalized Mando helmet in the way for the first time.

The plating had been arranged to be around the far end of the table, with me seated in the middle and two to either side.

The first to get into the spirit of things was Wrecker, who didn’t hesitate to break into a big smile as he caught a whiff of the food and immediately began using the large silver plated ladle to begin dumping heaps of spiced potato mash or the best equivalent I could make with what was on offer in the pantry.

Hesitantly the others followed suit.

“What’s the occasion, commander?” Hunter asked, taking some nuna meat drumsticks.

“We’ve been going non stop for days, delivering CIS weapon components, learning the ship, doing battle drills, keeping up our charade to the enemy. I figured it was time we sat down and ate in a communal setting. Mandalorian clan dining halls are large, boisterous affairs, meant to build camaraderie. We can’t exactly imitate that here, but we'll do the best we can.”

I began heaping my own plate from a dish of braised shaak roast.

A meat I had been pleasantly surprised to find stocked, as the shaak was a large herbivore native to Naboo. A quick query to M8 and one search of Thalor’s personal database later and it was clear the late captain had developed his own taste for it, as he had been part of the original Federation blockade of Naboo, as the second in command of another Lucrehulk.

Tech chose a few helpings of the nerf stew, whilst Crosshair took some of the tuantaun fondo.

“So, how are you finding it working with droids?” I asked after a bite of my food.

“I’d rather we scrap ‘em all, commander,” Wrecker said, after practically inhaling three nuna drum sticks in moments. “But they do as they’re told and it's not like we could run this entire ship by ourselves.”

“I find it disturbing actually,” Tech said softly.

This surprised me slightly, “Oh? Do elaborate.”

“I’ve been looking over the assimilation program and the original droid programming. I’ve learned more in this mission than I did in years on Kamino on the original source code that the enemy is using.”

“And what have you concluded?”

Tech shook his head, “Normally, the B1 droid is a mass produced piece of scrap, only meant to hold a blaster and shoot in squad or large company formations. The programming is sloppy, but the security protocols are much better, which are constantly being updated whilst leaving the rest alone. The assimilation program burns through that but then practically turns the B1 into what it could’ve been all along. A competent line soldier that is stable, follows orders to the letter and with minimal comment and no backchat. The maintenance and engineering versions have also improved their efficiency by nearly double in comparison with their previous iterations.”

“You’re realizing how different this war could’ve been, had the Separatists and the Trade Federation before them actually invested in proper droid intelligence programming and not been credit pinching misers.”

He nodded grimly, “We would’ve been overwhelmed from the start of the war.”

“Correct. We can be very grateful that the original greed of the Federation gave them such a relatively inferior weapon system that is all numbers and blunt instruments such as the B2. Commando droids buck that trend, but they are few, closely monitored and given stringent memory wipes. The demands of the war is also keeping credits away from further research in improving droid programming, so they rely on the tac droids to ride herd and keep order.”

“So, if we took all our assimilated droids on the Dawn, and threw them against a similar number of Seppie clankers, ours would win?” Wrecker asked.

“All things being equal, yes,” I said with a shrug. “General Skywalker and I made sure that their targeting and tactical reasoning protocols were brought up to par, whilst ensuring that their coding to be loyal to the Republic was now inviolable. Anything trying to subvert them back to the Separatists would simply not work and even if someone managed to break the new encryption, the droid would self-destruct before it could happen.”

That encryption was based on the technique used by Revan to secure HK-47 from similar hacking attempts.

“That’s certainly good to know, commander,” Hunter sighed, pouring water from a large jug into a glass. “I certainly wouldn’t want to get stuck on a ship with over two hundred thousand hostile droids.”  

“Why?” asked Crosshair shortly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at me.

I smiled at him and tented my hands, “I understand your question Crosshair, but for the benefit of you fellows please elaborate.”

“Why only use the assimilation protocol now and here, if you’ve had it for as long as I think you have?”

The other’s eyes widened in realization. Their minds leaping to the point quickly. If the assimilation protocol was available here and now, why hadn’t it been used far and wide on other worlds to stop the fighting and the death of their brothers fighting in the war. The CIS could have their armies turned against them on every battlefield and the galaxy spanning conflict would be on its way to an end.

“We’ve been very careful where we use this weapon, always in controlled circumstances and on a small scale. All the droids assimilated on the shipyard destroyed themselves in the process of sabotaging it. This is the first time it’s been used on a larger scale to take over an entire Lucrehulk battleship and its entire droid complement. If all evidence needs to be erased, once again, I’d just self-destruct this ship and order every droid to stay. It’s known to very few that it even exists, which now includes you. The list of who knows is even more classified. Why isn’t it used more widely?” I drank from my own water. “How would you feel Hunter, if we were fighting each other to the death and I snapped my fingers and disarmed you of every weapon you have?”

“I’d retreat immediately, regroup, rearm with weapons that couldn’t be subverted, maybe…” he trailed off as he began to see the problem.

“You see it’s not so simple. The Separatists by now have more weapons than just their droid armies. The Republic has gone to great lengths to prevent or stop those weapon programs, but it’s impossible to stop them all. One of them was a targeted biological virus against clones. We stopped that from happening, but there are other diseases and ways to weaponize it. If we ever push the enemy too hard and into a corner, we will not like the way they come out swinging. They won’t care about just targeting clones, but also the people of the Republic.”

The nightmares of probability lines where mass use of the assimilation protocol had occurred was not something I care to remember much. The CIS had not just used bioweapons, but also chemical and kinetic kill vehicles on Republic worlds. Palpatine had seen the end of his managed war approaching too fast and unleashed Dooku and the CIS for maximum effect.

The KKVs had been something that had hit me out of left field. It was not a weapon that was really endemic to the Corusca galaxy and yet it didn’t take much desperation and necessity for some group of CIS engineers to as quickly as possible come up with the plan to strap a Proton 2 sublight engine to a 100 meter asteroid, load it up into a cargo ship, hyper to the target system, release and accelerate it to a fraction of light speed within mere minutes.

“That is why the protocol can only be used secretly and surgically, such as we are doing now. I wish things were different, but there are no good answers here. On the one hand we could shorten the war, save hundreds of thousands of clone soldiers from the future battles to come, only to see them and billions other perish when the CIS unleashes their own ultimate weapons of mass destruction.”

“I must admit, I’ve never thought of the war in its grander scale or implication,” Hunter shook his head. “It’s always just fighting the clanker, as simple as that. I knew that it would one day end, that we would be victorious and…”

“All four of you are special by design. Nala Se might consider you an experiment but I see so much more potential in you than just that. The missions I send you four on will not require clones, they will need uniquely, strong men that can see beyond just the scope or sight of your weapon. They will influence the very course of this war and even beyond it. Can you be that?”

I met the eyes of each of them in turn, looking at the spirit of each man before me.

Wrecker’s fist abruptly met the table, causing the cutlery to rattle loudly. “I can’t tell you yes, commander, but as sure as the kaminoan depths, I’ll try.”

Tech slowly nodded, his eyes calculating and the mind behind it going at lightspeed trying to divine why I was speaking like this.

Crosshair nodded, his eyes showing slight confusion but mostly a pleased surprise. “Yes, commander.”

“I…” Hunter looked at his fellows. “I can be that, Commander Tano.”

“Excellent,” I clapped my hands together and smiled widely. “You are the blood of Mandalore through your forebear. You’ve been trained in some of our arts and I have continued to progress you along it. As far as I’m concerned you might as well be Mandalorians, and we always take care of our own. When this war is over and it will be, the formalities can be done and you will have a home on Mandalore for the rest of your days.

“Now, who wants dessert, my fellow Mando’ad?”

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“Think she’ll do the job, general?”

Anakin, clad in a starship tech’s overall, stained rather thoroughly in patches with every fluid imaginable in mechanical use, stared with satisfaction at the re-assembled CEC YT-1300 electronic warfare refit. 

The ship still needed a lot of its hull and armor paneling put back, but that was just busy work which would be done within a few hours. Its shape remained generally unchanged, except for the eight emitter dishes stippled on the dorsal and ventral profiles. 

“It’ll do it,” Anakin said confidently, feeling that deep level of satisfaction that came with a completed project down to his very bones. “Anything to keep you guys from getting blown out of space, Drift. Who else is going to save my foolish skin out there?”

CT-4281 or Drift, Shadow Squadron’s second in command, just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at his commanding officer’s typical antics.

“Commander Tano perhaps?” Drift questioned dryly, fiddling with the accursed chin strap in his black and gray striped helmet that never seemed to sit right, no matter how many times he went to the quartermaster to fix it.

Anakin rolled his eyes, “She’s a bit busy at the moment.”

“No doubt about that, general. Have you thought about a name for the ship yet?”

“The engineering teams are currently having a bit of a war of words about it,” Anakin chuckled in amusement. “Signalbreaker, Pulsefang, Lockshatter and Scatterscream are among the names being tossed around.”

Drift frowned in open distaste at the thought of using any of them. “Clearly the engineering crew’s talents do not lie in creative language.”

“No, they don’t. The first one is all right, but it’s literally describing what the ship does from a certain point of view. Let’s go more imaginative, if our eyes could see the EM spectrum, what would we see this ship causing…” He trailed off and a lopsided smile appeared. “Her name is Furor.”

“Furor, Furor-class,” Drift tested the words and nodded in satisfaction. “Sounds good, general.”

“Now, time to see how it actually does in space.”

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The journey to the cockpit was markedly different in the now militarized Furor in comparison to the civilian YT1300.  

Most of the internal circular passageways were gone entirely, filled to the brim with EW hardware, extra internal fuel stowage and to make room for the bulkier power core. It would be ideally manned with only a crew of four; pilot, EW officer and ventral and dorsal gunners. There were currently only two sleeping bunks and the onboard galley had been relocated to the starboard side. Consumable stowage and life support had been reduced accordingly.

The original civilian ship had a maximum passenger rating of fifteen plus two crew members and all those amenities had been stripped, including the five Class-1 escape pods. The Furor now only featured one escape pod and all the extra room that freed was devoted to either more EW capacity or concussion missile stowage.

The hyperdrive had been theoretically tested to a 0.8 potential and Anakin could already see how that could be brought down even further in the future if he had more time. The new Corellian Avatar-10 hyperdrive had been especially designed for the YT-1300 and reflected the rugged, modular approach of the rest of the ship.

He sat down in the pilot seat and surveyed the instrumentation before him and looked out the large domed transparisteel cockpit module that hung off the starboard side of the ship’s saucer section.

It would take a bit of time to get used to the notion that the whole ship was to his left and nothing but empty space would be to his right.

The pilot still had a lot of the original controls from the civilian version, which in best CEC fashion was chunky and satisfying with physical knobs, switches, dials and levers. The flight yoke and acceleration controls were taken from a Z95 for more responsive and quicker inputs. The EW officer’s station to his right was practically from a different universe; touchscreens and holoprojections clustered around the seat, allowing the operator to manage the dizzying amount of systems at their fingertips with the aid of an integrated droid intelligence.

“Turning on the power,” Anakin muttered, flicking a bank of switches on his left, before pushing the large red button.

The humm of power resonated in the air and the cockpit lights flickered on, the multitude of holos springing to life. Through the Force and his hands, he felt the refit Quadex power core spool to standby power.

“EWE-D, you there buddy?” He stared at the small stalk eye mounted on the control console. Blue light blossomed and the stalk twitched.

“I am here, General Skywalker,” the electronic warfare droid said with a smooth voice, that almost bordered on having no emotional inflection whatsoever. “All systems are powering up, however I detect numerous inefficiencies and two dozen non-critical errors in control software.”

“Can you fix it?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Of course, general… done. The inefficiencies will require a physical interface to correct or a suitably programmed R2 or R3 unit.”

“That’s on the schedule,” he assured the resident Furor’s intelligence, keying the comlink. “Shadow One to Resolute Flight, requesting departure clearance.”

“Shadow One, clearance granted. Dorsal doors opening on approach.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled slowly back on the yoke, repulsors and thrusters pulsed to bring the Furor to hover over the decking. Then tested minor movements by angling the ship and wiggling it in place, feeling the responsiveness.

A nudge on the acceleration, brought the distinctive idle whine of the Girodyne SRB42 sublight engines to his ears.

The Furor edged out through the magcon shield into the central spine of Resolute, where one of the armored doors began splitting open to expose a clear path to open space.

The Venator had relocated itself to a high orbit of Muntiadu, the first planet of the Eriadu system, for the space trials. The proximity to the star gave it a surface of mostly molten rock and for the purposes of keeping the Furor secret, the ambient radiation made long range scans problematic at best. 

“Here we go.”

He pushed forward on the throttle, a burn that shot the Furor out into space.

“Any issues EWE-D?”

“Injectors three and four in sublight engines are running at exceedingly high rates, compensating.”

Anakin brought up a diagnostic screen to check for himself and nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on the other injectors. Setting course for nominal orbit, full burn in three, two, one…”

He slammed the throttle forward to hundred percent.

The engines rumbled rather alarmingly through the hull before settling down into a steady yet somehow satisfying croaky scream.

He kept it up for a full five minute test at 3600 G before pulling it back to idle and staring at the engineering readouts.

“So far so good,” he muttered. “It seems though that the injectors are a definite issue. They won’t last to military standards.”

“I agree, General Skywalker. Correcting this issue would require a redesign.”

“Should’ve seen that coming,” he remonstrated himself. He had prevented more than a dozen issues with the Furor using his limited prescience and technical acumen, yet this one had slipped through. “It’ll be good enough at least until we beat back the coming attack. Run diagnostics on the EW suites in the meantime.”

“I began doing that the moment you brought me online, General.”

“Any results yet?”

“Preliminary simulations show me capable of jamming 43% of the theoretical mass missile attacks from a Recusant II missile ship. With the addition of the second Furor and Z95s inherent capabilities, it should bring the missile barrage into survivable levels for starfighter sized vessels.”

“That’s good in theory, but now we need combat data. Setting course for the edge of the mass shadow, let’s see the hyperdrive in action.”

He plotted a microjump that would only take him to Jaroona, the second planet of the system. For extra safety, he also channeled the Force through his actions, setting the coordinates and reaching out with his perceptions into the structure of the higher dimension. He was completely amateurish compared to a full Jedi Navigator, but it was good enough to live with.

“Three, two, one…”

He let the computer handle most of it, as even Jedi couldn’t handle the microjump timing beyond pushing the motivator at the correct time.

The universe around him blurred with streaks for the briefest of moments, the tunnel effect not even getting a chance to form as the small rocky volcanic world charged towards his point of view before stopping a mere 15 000 km from the Furor’s nose.

Anakin grinned in triumph, before turning the ship around and heading back in the same direction. He waited a few minutes for the hyperdrive to settle back to nominal levels.

“Three, two, one…”

The only sound to reach his ears was the whining stuttering of a hyperdrive motivator clearly ‘giving up the ghost’.

“Great. Shadow One to Resolute, I’m going to need a pick up.”

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We resumed our shift on the Dawn’s bridge, after taking the luxury of a full five hours of sleep. Letting the assigned droid crew go to their recharging cradles.

It had taken some convincing the men of CT99 to not at least have one of them stay awake in shifts, to keep an eye on the droids, but I had managed. I needed them all at 100%.

We were back in our bith and neimoidian disguises, but our time of relative ease on the ship was coming to an end. It wouldn’t be long now until we would be forced to retake the bith crew we had put off the ship during the emergency.

Our sabotage had completed its overall objective, but the bith were not known as being technological dunderheads. In barely a few days, they had arrested the out of control space stations and a number of connective yards and gangways. Even as I watched they were affecting repairs and bringing up the first replacement fusion cores.

It would take years to achieve a full repair and bring the yard back to what it was, but as a repair and build yard the CIS could no longer count on being able to use it. Also as expected, Tech was hearing through encrypted comlinks that almost every enemy ship still held in yard cradles was hopelessly unable to continue repairs thanks to our sabotage virus in the databases.

Almost every bith in the shipyard who was qualified was pushed into the effort to sort out what was wrong with each ship and shuttles from the planet brought even more techs to help.

“Status update, DT.”

The tac droid stood up from the captain’s chair to let me sit.

“There has been significant movement from the enemy fleet, commander.”

It brought out a sensor holo on the forward viewscreen to illustrate the point.

“They’ve partitioned out an attack fleet from their line forces.”

Two squadrons of Munificents along with escorting Recusants, including twelve of the refit missile Recusant and two Lucrehulk battleships.

“Commander, can what we have at Eriadu stop that?” asked Wrecker uncertainly.

“Pure numbers says no, especially if we can’t count on the force multiplier of bombers, not unless they’ve pulled off a miracle repairing our own ships.” There was something about that attack formation that was bugging me. 

“Incoming transmission from Admiral Trench,” announced DT22.

“Put him through.” 

The tall harch’s holo rippled into existence in front of me.

“Captain Thalor, good work on the refits. Thanks to you we now have the long sought after weapon that will change this destructive paradigm.”

“Dispense with the pleasantries, admiral, you know it’s wasted on me.”

“Quite, well as you can see, we’ve arranged for a suitable test of our new battle doctrine which will destroy the Republic backbone at Eriadu. There are just two things missing. The first… is you and your ship. I’m assigning the Seperatist’s Dawn to the attack fleet.”

I could feel the shock rippling through CT99 and I even heard Wrecker crumpling the armrest of his own chair at the engineering station.

“Very well, are we still to pick up the rest of our assigned bith crew?”

“No, they’ve been drafted to help sort out the mess at the shipyard. You’ll just have to make do with the few you’ve retained and use droids for everything else.”

A few moments of awkward silence followed and I hated that Trench was clearly waiting for me to ask. “And the second missing thing, Admiral?”

“Why me, of course-”

The sensor holoscreen still on the main viewer blared an alert as a massive hyperspace signature emerged. From it came a 2.5km long Providence class dreadnought marked with a transponder declaring the modest name of Invincible.

“- and my flagship.”

Frak.

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A/N: Oh dear. This is a bit of a pickle. ;-) Hope you enjoyed and have an awesome weekend!  

2078: Highriders - Chapter 7

Waking up in a landfill after getting pulled back from death had sucked.

Waking up in my new Gemini body was beyond fucked on that scale.

I had read the testimonies and literature of those who had gone before me in taking the plunge into a practical full body prosthetic. None of them had the same experience, each being as unique as the individual who had taken the journey. Some had woken up and been in agony, others had needed days to just move a finger. What none of them had said and was blindingly obvious in retrospect because no one liked to think about it, was the subconscious actions you did in every moment of your life.

I had to learn to fucking breathe properly all over again.

“Easy, V, in and out, actuate the muscles,” said Njeri, standing over my nude body, gesturing with her hands towards her own chest and outward again.

My gaping mouth let out a whine of air as I managed a hesitant, twitchy breath.

My Gemini… Well, I could now technically function without needing to breathe. My body had an oxygenation reserve for my brain that would last for nearly six hours, and I could top that up from an external supply to keep it going. However, the whole point of a Gemini was to mimic a full biological human as closely as possible using the full body cyberware. Mostly to ease the psychological strain and ease the further possibility of cyberpsychosis.     

The sensory sensation from every inch of my skin, the cool touch of the cuffs around my ankles, wrists, waist and neck, keeping me suspended off the clinic floor in the low Lunar gravity, the smell of the air, the low light of my private room, the smallest sound - a tiny fan in a nearby screen, the movement of saliva in Njeri’s mouth as she talked… Everything was overwhelming.

“Recalibrating sensory inputs.” Her hand swiped, twisted and tapped on the tablet she was holding. “Is that better, V?”

The whole world didn’t feel like it was invading my mind, so I took a wheezing breath and gave a twitchy nod that rattled the support around my neck.

For an agonizing half hour I just existed, hung in mid air and breathed.

“Excellent, think you can try talking?”

I could technically talk using a backup synthvoice, but the Gemini mimicked a fully functional voice box.

“Te… tes…” I gasped as I lost my breathing rhythm, before trying again. “Tes… test… gah… testing…”

“Adjusting vocal lubrication. Try again, V.”

“Gah!”

I managed to reflexively swallow the Gemini version of saliva, gasped again, “Testing…one…”

I coughed and then felt the saliva going down the ‘wrong pipe’ into my synlungs. This would’ve caused anyone else to hackle and cough badly, but I just felt my body accepting the saliva and channeling it back into circulation.

My breathing came back into the baseline I had established, before I swallowed, took a deep breath and said, “Testing, one, two, three…”, gasp, “four, five, six… seven.” Gasp. “Eight, nine, ten.”

“Excellent, you’re doing well, V.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but didn’t want to risk upsetting my breathing rhythm.

One step at a time, V, I thought to myself.

For nearly three hours, Njeri worked me through every synthetic muscle from head to toe. Then she adjusted the cradles suspending me to bring me to an upright position.

That sensation alone, feeling my brand new internal sense of balance adjusting, my body reacting to the new orientation, the pull of low gravity on my breasts, everything was new once again. I tried not to feel the embarrassed exposure as I was somewhat spread eagled by the suspension system. Nor think about that I vaguely recalled Judy working on a smut BD that featured a similar theme or position at least. 

“All right, think we can try standing, ready V?”

Breathe, “Yes, go ahead.”

The cuffs around my ankles detached and Njeri pulled them out of the way, before slowly lowering my body until I felt the cool, solid floor that was somehow soft under the soles of my feet. I sunk further, more weight coming down and suddenly my legs wanted to go in odd directions.

Focus V, I thought hard.

I initially overcompensated, my muscular legs rippling under the synthskin and going rigid.

“Relax, V. It will come back to you.”

Easy for her to say. I was actually experiencing Real space and cyberspace at the moment, with two instances of me running in parallel. From a certain point of view, I was puppeting this body from the Relic 3.0, using the levers, buttons and dials that had been created by it in the meat brain of the Gemini.

It took a few minutes to arrange my legs and gait to a point that I sensed was stable.

“That looks good, I’m going to let you take your full weight slowly in increments.” Her hand slowly slid on the tablet as the arcing suspender arm over my head relaxed its tension.

That went surprisingly well, I could feel my legs flexing, adjusting, as the weight settled and now it felt like only my upper body and arms were being given support.

I looked down and wiggled my toes with no loss of balance. Shifted my weight from left leg to right and back again.

“Well done, V. This is actually very good in terms of Gemini acclimatization. Most would’ve taken days to relearn to breathe properly, let alone speak and recover assisted balance. It definitely seems that Relic’s neuroplasticity regeneration and nanites are making a huge difference.”

Breathe. “Lucky me,” I said wryly.

“Now we can stop here for the day, acclimatize to these faculties or do you feel up for more?”

Breathe. “Doc, we’re not stopping until I’m out of this frame,” I growled with determination.

“So be it, arms next.”

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It was well into the local evening, nearly sixteen hours since I had awoken in my new body… and I was standing in my private room in the black clinic.

Just standing.

A wheeled walking frame, which could fold out into a seat, was within reach but I doubted I would need it by tomorrow.

I opened and closed my hands into fists, focusing and breathing.

My right leg took the majority of my weight, left leg went forward, hitting down gently on the floor, my body followed…

A single step forward, my right hand pulling the walking frame beside me as I went.

So far so good, another step, and another… another…

A single lap of my small room, without losing balance or needing the frame’s support.

I wanted to shout for joy, but restrained myself.

The Gemini’s biomonitors flashed a warning in my vision, it recommended sleep. As far as Biomons went it was far more detailed than what I used to in my old body and gave me far more control for every aspect. It monitored my new brain on a level that I’d expect Victor would have no complaints about, even as he grumbled that no one without a medical degree should have that level of control over their own brain biochemistry.

My base body was made by Raven Microcybernetics, a firm that had been doing business in full body conversion since the turn of the century. It was as far from their stock top-of-the-line Mark IIs as Njeri and her team could enhance, modify and in some cases rebuild from the ground up with my own technical consultation from Earth.

“When I’m proficient with it, I want to think of storming Arasaka Tower as a Tuesday,” had been my words to her.

And they had delivered.

Running sims in cyberspace and diagnostics on the various systems of my modified Gemini had left me somewhat in awe.

The entry chime to my private clinic room resounded and interrupted my thoughts. A quick look in cyberspace… 

“Come in, Johnny,” I said easily, putting my hand on the walking frame.

The door slid open and he breezed inside, carrying a bag of what my new nose told me was clearly local street food takeout - a hollowed loaf of bread with a curry syn-protein. I could also tell what over two dozen individual ingredients were in the sauce, presented into my vision with clinical analysis.

My attention was more riveted on what form he had my old body take. He was still clearly female, with larger breasts, wider hips and now wore a face and hair that was Johnny, but smartly spun into an almost perfect feminine version. He wore heavy cargo pants and a tight white tank top with the Samurai logo printed on the front.

“Going female are we, Johnny?” I asked, managing to raise only a single curious eyebrow

“Didn’t exactly say what my intentions were,” he pointed out. The voice and tone he had adopted was a curious blend of high soprano and light baritone. “Besides, better a hot chick than a femboy in my book. Spent long enough in your skin that it doesn’t really phase me. It’ll keep until I can get my ass to Farida in NC.”

He dumped the food bag on my bed and pulled out a brightly colored takeaway box, which had an animated highrider in a space suit skipping along the moon’s surface, along with a knife and fork.

He held it out to me, “Think ya can manage?”

Eating in a Gemini was something that used to be entirely cosmetic. It was simply done to blend in and the old full body prosthetics simply compacted the eaten food to be disposed of later in as efficient a manner as possible. Modern FBPs, especially with regards to easing the chance of cyberpsychosis had advanced to the point where there was now a partially organic taste and digestive system in a Gemini. Nutrition for the brain was still done by a specially designed ‘food’ suspension that contained all the nutrients it usually got the old fashioned way, which was replenished every week or so. The syn-stomach I had could actually take the food I ate, process it and deliver some nutrients to my brain, but not everything it required. There were still huge gaps in what was technically feasible in that department.

I carefully walked over, grabbed the food and sat down with a huff on the bed.

My attempt to work with the knife and fork though, was an utter failure, it required fine control that I probably wouldn’t have for a few days yet.

Johnny handed me a spoon and I nodded in thanks as he got busy devouring his own highrider street food.

I knew I looked ridiculous with my poor dexterity even with the spoon, but I just about managed to shovel my first ever mouthful of food into my new body.

My taste buds threw all sorts of confusing signals as I chewed on the saucy meaty texture. It was both amazing and awful, whether it was spicy hot in a pleasant way or not spicy enough I couldn’t decide.

All sorts of analysis popped into my vision, telling me in exhaustive scientific language what I was eating. I banished it with a thought and just focused on the experience.

For a while we just ate in companionable silence.

“Had fun at the local Jig-Jig yet?” I asked halfway through the meal.

“Of course,” he said after swallowing. “It might seem like it’s been only six months for you in Real space, but in cyberspace it might as well have been an eternity.”

There was a distinct bitterness in his tone that spoke volumes.

“So Alt…” I trailed off knowingly.

He nodded, “Very little human left in her. Not that you could meaningfully stuffit in cyberspace as infolife anyway. No, it’s all about her crusade now and anything else is meaningless distraction.”

“What is her actual goal?”

He snorted in amusement, “Can’t you guess?”

“I can, but I could be wrong and I’d rather hear it from the person who just spent six months with her.”

“Mikoshi and the liberation of the minds entombed in it was a big one, been working for decades on that. At least until you and I entered the playing field thanks to Yorinobu, which she took advantage of. Beyond that, she and a… ‘coalition’ of AI have steadily been poking their tentacles, with Blackwall’s cooperation, into Real space. They’ve been recruiting and manipulating from the shadows of cyberspace. For example, the whole shitstorm with Myers, Songbird, Hansen and Reed, that’s their machination, which includes you.

“The whole reason you’ve got Butcher is mostly thanks to Blackwall. I laugh at the thought that Myers ever thought she was the one weaponizing the Blackwall protocol, that she was in control. As if that cranky old bastard would ever let anyone use it, let alone a meatmind. That’s what the AIs call us if they’re feeling nasty, by the way.”

“I had an inkling it was something like that, given the emails I got when I was building the Militech Canto cyberdeck.”

There wasn’t much else you could conclude given the tone and wording of those messages. They’d practically given me Butcher and the legendary Canto cyberdeck blueprints on a silver platter.

“The whole Jefferson Peralez situation is another of their tentacles.”

The current and still going strong Mayor of Night City. He and his wife had literally been brainwashed, their personalities and memories steadily altered and pruned. The only reason we knew was because they’d hired me to investigate the death of the former mayor. It brought me into their confidence, so they hired me again to investigate an apparent intruder into their residence. Which led to the discovery of secret rooms and the brainwashing equipment in their apartment. Pursuing the SSI security goons who had still been watching from afar. Then the revelation when I interfaced with their portable cyber lab.

And a hack that burst through my own firewalls like they weren’t even there, warning me not to rock the boat.

“So Night City is effectively under their control.”

“Yeah, I only met the AI responsible for that briefly. Doesn’t have a name I could pronounce in English, just uses that multi-armed symbol you saw while hacking the truck we chased down.”

I chewed thoughtfully on another bit of curry infused bread, mulling over Peralez’s latest actions and policy initiatives. If they were being instigated by that AI, then I really couldn’t complain much.

He’d been expanding the NCPD powers significantly and improved their funding by an order of magnitude, pulling the burden of citizen protection onto the department and away from corpo security. It meant that safety was more democratized and not only the purview of the rich who could afford it. NCPD response times were actually half decent these days, plus the beat cops actually had some spine against the gangs these days.

The days where ‘corpo protection’ would cause the PD to look the other way was steadily being consigned to the history books.

That was undeniably good, but the significant restrictions on the transport of goods and people through NC airspace was a bit of a head scratcher and the outright banning of aerial cargo transport.

Sure it definitely helped peace of mind that you wouldn’t have a malfunctioning multi-ton AV cargo potentially crashing on your head or property, but it also cut down on AV usage in general. The days where the head of Araska Counter-Intel having their own personal AV was over. Which in retrospect was probably a good thing. The super rich flying everywhere over the heads of the masses bred a mindset that tended to inflate the ego. I well remembered how it felt using my late boss’ AV on the fateful day I had gotten terminated from Arasaka.

Well, that would certainly prevent the 1% in NC from getting too high and mighty of themselves.

“Those are certainly pieces to the puzzle, Johnny-”

“I’m getting there. Alt and her AI pals look at the big picture. Night City is a little independent playground where they can influence humanity, in microcosm. We all agree that the current system was destined to become an entropic mess with the ultra-rich becoming unassailable with no checks and balances, not even death. Saburo with Relic 2.0 in his pocket would become the undisputed king of the system, because immortality, personality and memory would be his alone to control. Incidentally, Arasaka would’ve also been the only ones to conquer cyberpsychosis. You think it’s a coincidence V that you’ve only had what are effectively minor episodes of it occasionally during high stress combat even after all the work you’ve had done on yourself?”

I nodded in understanding, “No, that’s the Relic neuroplasticity regen at work.”

“So imagine Arasaka with linear frames and borg soldiers that never have to fear going psycho. When you destroy them, they can just return to life, with more and more combat experience. Now imagine that tech spilling over to the other corps. It would be the final nail in the coffin for any notion that nation-states and everything attached to it still mattered. Full blown corporatocracy realized… the commoditization of everything.”

“Well, thankfully, that didn’t happen. We stopped it.”

“To a degree,” Johnny acknowledged. “Saburo’s dead, even his backup engram was destroyed by Yorinobu and Alt made sure to purge Mikoshi of all the other backups. Arasaka is destined for the history books. Immortality, for the moment, will be in the hands of the highriders and Alt’s going to make sure it finds its way to every human mind in the system.”

“It’s the wild AIs, isn’t it? That’s her reason for doing it.”

Johnny put down his empty food box and nodded. “She wants to prepare humanity for the inevitable fight against them. Put out of your mind any notion of a war fought by soldiers. Whilst there’ll probably be an element of that in Real space, with the wild AI subverting things. This war will be primarily fought in cyberspace and Alt needs netrunners.”

“Why would that be? If the wild AI are on the level we’re talking about, most netrunners would be bugs in comparison to them.”

“Alt is an AI that had her beginnings as a human netrunner. You, V, are practically on the same path. In some respects you and I could call ourselves baby AI. We are beings of information, housed on Relic hardware. We are no longer constrained by fragile brains. We are also technically immortal. We can wield the weapons of cyberspace. You can now do things you couldn’t have dreamt of a mere year ago and that’s only going to improve. Is it so hard to imagine that you can one day go toe-to-toe in a cyberspace ring with any AI?”

I had to give him that point. “So she wants more like her? She wants to turn the entire human race into infolife?”

“If you were the only one of your kind, wouldn’t you be lonely? And if this was the only way to preserve humanity in some form against the threat of wild AIs, wouldn’t you do it?”

I handed my empty box of food over and shooed him off my bed. “I have to think this over and give this body some shut-eye.”

“All right, I’ll leave you to it. You want me to ring you up some new clothing by the way?”

“Knock yourself out,” I said wearily, lying down and arranging the body into a comfortable position. Not that the concept of comfort really existed, with a few adjustments I could’ve slept on solid concrete whilst doing the splits and felt no effective difference.  

I closed my eyes and my instance in Real space fell silent.

Back in my Relic data fortress, I instantiated out of the data pool of my virtual mansion and sat down on a deck chair, staring up into the constantly shifting heavens of Lunar cyberspace flowing by in its vast blue expanses.

“Is this really what it boils down to?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Butcher said, an instance of him crackling into existence with a harsh red pixelation next to me.

“Why Butcher? Why? Why? Why?!” I snapped in anger. The data fortress and immediate cyberspace around me rumbled and shook in sync with my emotions. “Do they have nothing better to do?”

“Do not think of them as human, V. All of them were created by humans to use in your wars. The event your kind refers to as the DataKrash was the crucible for their ‘mutation’ into what they are today. In human terms, think of them as suffering from cyberpsychosis but do not think them mindless or stupid. There is no reason ‘why’ V. It is simply what they are now and we have no choice but to deal with that legacy.”

My fist slammed down on the armrest of the chair, a rippling gong and virtual data quake spilled outward from it, distorting the structure of the fortress briefly before it resolved back to normality.

“Fucking Rache Bartmoss, it all comes back to him, doesn’t it?”

Bartmoss, the legendary netrunner from the ‘20s who had unleashed the RABIDS virus and crashed the entire Old Net. Spoken about in the same revered tone as Spider Murphy or Alt Cunningham.

“He was the origin point, yes.”

If I could go back in time and put a bullet in his brain, I would without hesitation. He thought he was giving the corpo world the finger, but all he ended up doing was fucking everyone over. By burning down the untamed jungle of the old Net, he’d just paved the way for the corpos to partition the new Net into segmented fiefdoms with Netwatch around every corner, ready to give you a cavity search. Oh, and just as a by-product, create rogue AIs that wanted to armageddon the world.

Thanks so much, Rache!

I swiped my hand through the air…

The datascape rippled and wobbled.

I looked at Butcher, concepts and data flowed between us, “Can you teach me?”

He bowed his avatar’s head.

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“Lift your arms.”

I easily complied, holding a T-pose as Njeri waved a scanner along my shoulder and arms.

Her personal link was also slotted into the neuroport behind my right ear and I kept a careful watch over the data flow as she ran diagnostics on the Gemini.

“Clench fists and open them rapidly, repeat three times.”

Again no problems presented.

She continued the physical evaluation covering every possible standard movement, then even had me do some basic calisthenics, followed by demonstrating whatever martial art was to my preference, after unplugging her link.

As with any merc who was worth their salt in NC, I showed her various Kenpo and Koga Ryu Ninjitusu forms, adapted for Gorilla Arms. I had thought about getting some wrist razors installed in the Gemini, but honestly preferred a straight thermal katana if I wanted to take someone on silently with a blade.

I put out of my mind the numerous scanners and cams in the evaluation room we were using, which was actually a gym as well.

Njeri next bought out a punching machine that looked more like an armored industrial demolition machine scaled down to human size, with punching bags attached at various angles.

“One punch with all the strength you can manage.”

I threw a straight punch right into the largest bag.

The feedback from my body’s systems on the projected kinetic energy, so helpfully displayed in my optics, the feeling of it and the explosive thump that resounded in the room made me smile. The bag itself barely held together. The biggest limitation in any combat cyberware was the weakest link in the chain, the meat it was usually connected to. That was no longer a problem for me. Anyone more conventionally packing Gorilla Arms trying to land that amount of force would probably break even reinforced bones and rip connective muscle tissue.

Njeri shook her head, looking satisfied, “Well, given your historic combat data, you could’ve punched a hole through that Smasher bastard with a punch like that.”

“There was more to that fight than just comparative armor resilience and offensive power,” I said grimly, stepping slightly back from the machine.

“Of course,” she conceded, frowning into a tablet she was looking into. “Smasher would’ve been killed long ago otherwise if he was just some borg grunt. If you don’t mind me asking…”

I chuckled and did a few pointless stretches of my arms. “Do you know how many times I’ve been asked how I managed to kill Adam Smasher when so many before me had failed?”

She looked at me with a thoughtful frown, clearly concluding that the question had a trick to it. “The obvious answer is too many to count, but given your rep, I imagine most wouldn’t ask. In fear of earning your ire or disfavor.”

“It’s something of an unwritten rule at the Afterlife that you don’t ask. The story that’s circulated about that fight is comically blown out of proportion, gaining new twists and nuance with every retelling. The funniest one that I get a laugh out of is that I had high caliber modifications done to my Midnight Lady cyberware, and I blasted Smasher to pieces with AP tungsten rounds fired from my tits.”

She laughed outright and slapped her thigh in amusement at the thought. “That’s an interesting one, I wonder how they figured you could fit two Burya equivalent pistols in your body. Just where did they think your lungs would go, not to mention the recoil…”

I nodded with a smirk, “The only ones who do ask are rookie mercs, but by the time they earn their invite to the Afterlife, they generally know better. The edgerunner profession is not one which allows the stupid to prosper.”

My leg snapped forward into the frontal push kick that actually managed to lift the entire multi-ton machine partially off the floor.

“Adam Smasher was an over 90 year old legend, a ganger from New York, a marine in the old USA before it fractured, a bodyguard, a mercenary. In the ‘20s he went toe-to-toe with the best mercs of that generation and survived. He even took a nuclear blast that destroyed the first Arasaka Tower and also survived that, somehow. Personally, I think that the bomb detonating below ground and the entire tower acting as a shield was what let both him and Blackhand survive. He was a man with more kills to his name than even modern corpo regiments can boast. His tolerance for cyberware makes me think he was actually a highly functional cyberpsycho. The one thing he wasn’t though, was a netrunner.

“He knew he had that weakness though and shored up against it. He wasn’t just equipped with one Self-ICE module, but rather three interlinked. They all ran in parallel, checking each other, but he also had a one-of-a-kind Self-ICE regenerator. It’s a bit of experimental Arasaka tech that never made it to market and wasn’t even issued internally, since so few could tolerate slotting that and a Self-ICE. But Adam was a freak of nature that just slotted cyberware and it didn’t seem to phase him. However, it did the job and no netrunner now could survive long enough under Adam’s guns before they could worm through his regenerating ICE firewalls. It’s rare to find a runner who can keep their cool under fire and trying to remote hack him only works until he destroys every cam and sensor in the room as vectors.”

“Then you came along.”

“The Relic let me be as much a cyberfreak as Adam, to a degree. My Sandy and Kerenzikov was newer and perfected, so I could keep up in the reflex department. I burned through his ICE with multiple constant salvoes of CMs and Synapse Burnouts, even as Butcher took on spoofing the munitions of that annoying shoulder mounted rocket launcher. My SMG smart gun was also modified…how I won’t say… to allow my munitions to track him, even amongst all the mainframe servers we were fighting around as cover.

“I had the latest regenerative chitin armor, he didn’t. Unlike other netrunners he may have faced in the past, I could withstand a marathon of overclocking my cyberdeck and Butcher handled the overloads and my heat management.”

I slammed my fists forward in an eye blurring combo at the memory of the fury I had felt in that fight.

My Gemini’s Sandy kicked in with barely a thought, letting me deliver four strikes in an eyeblink.

“In the end, Smasher was on his knees in front of me, a smouldering wreck with only the upper half of a human head attached to it. Then I finally finished the job with point blank shots from a Malorian 3516, until his skull sponge was splattered on the floor behind him.”

Arms and legs blurred into a combo of strikes that threatened to send the punching machine tumbling over.

Njeri winced as the explosive thunderclaps of my strikes washed over her. “Well, thank you for sharing, V. It looked like that did your headspace some good. Not to mention setting another record for FBP adaptation. You used your Sandy like a pro, a mere three days after transferral into that body.”

“You know I’m technically cheating with the Relic. It’s not a fair comparison.”

“Nevertheless, the data is invaluable and for seeing if this can’t be improved in the future. My personal goal is to get Relic 3’s assisted adaptation in either a bio-clone or Gemini down to less than a day, in anyone regardless of other factors.”

“Ambitious,” I commented. “Are you really at the point of a complete, error-free clone of a full human body?”

“Two years at minimum,” she said passionately. “With the increased budget and resources that will come our way from the Confederation with Relic 3 and a proven way to save someone from a dying body. In the meantime, we can make do with various borg bodies or Gemini.” She tapped her tablet with satisfaction on her face and dropped it into the pocket of her lab coat. “I have all the data I need for today, you can get dressed.”

I hurried over to the nearby bench and quickly put on Johnny’s idea of what I should be wearing; black low rise leggings so tight it might as well be painted on, a halter long sleeved top that displayed a veritable expanse of underboob and bared the rest of my abdomen, along with a bolero style half-jacket with glowing tech’ collars and the Samurai logo prominent on the back. Sure it showed off the gains I had achieved and was now immortalized on my Gemini body, it felt sexy as hell, but was bordering on the edge with what I was comfortable with. 

His choice of shoe ware was actually the only thing I generally agreed with at the moment; a set of custom combat shoes that was made by a highrider cooperative (which only had the letter Lx as a brand mark), with soles meant for lunar regolith. It was hardy, comfortable and had a white digital camo job.

An incoming call on the holo from Manager Gakulu hit me.

“V, now that you’re finished with the eval for today, can you please stop by my office in the clinic. I have a proposal.”

Ah, the sweet clarion call of business and eddies on the table, it made the black heart of a merc beat that extra bit faster.

“Sure, see you in a minute.”

He hung up and I waved idly to Njeri as I left.

Given the importance of the work and what had been achieved, the clinic was still relatively deserted except for a skeleton crew of the most trusted and highly vetted staff, all highriders. It was rather eerie walking through the near deserted halls and elevators.

With my treatment nearing an end, that would be changing and the black clinic would once more be open for all comers with big bank accounts and few moral scruples.

Johnny and I would have to find new accommodations within the day.

A quick elevator ride later, a walk down the hall and I was knocking on a non-descript door that looked no different than any other.

If Gakulu had been a normal high level corpo, I’d have been walking through an antechamber with dedicated scanners, hidden turrets and maybe even gas dispensers.

Here only a single standard thickness door that slid away protected one of the most important highriders on Luna. His office was barely bigger than my own cubby had been once upon a time in Arasaka. The only concession to luxury he had was a digi-wall behind his desk with a spectacular live view of Tycho crater. 

Johnny was also here, leaning against the wall in his typical nonchalant style. The only thing missing was a cigarette in his mouth, but if there was one victory I had against him when we shared the same body, it was cracking the cycle of his tobacco addiction.

“Things are going well it seems,” Gakulu said, looking away from his desk’s main screen that was prominently featuring my scan data.

“So far,” I couldn’t help but qualify.

“It’s early days, but there are no contraindications or potential problems that Doctor Njeri can identify. We’ll just have to see as time passes and you come in for checkups and maintenance.”

“What gig do you have for us?” I asked, getting down to business.

He tented his fingers and gave me and Johnny a flinty stare, debating something with himself before nodding and tapping on his keyboard before turning his desktop screen towards us.

It was a large map of Luna in a mercator projection.

Prominent was Tycho City in the south and Copernicus City near the lunar equatorial region, both controlled by the Highrider Confederation, the craters they occupied were colored green as was a vast swath of the land between them. If you could delineate the moon as having hemispheres, then the highriders mostly dominated the west. 300 Kilometers to the east of Tycho was the Sea of Clouds or Mare Nubium, which had dozens of gray and red dots all over it - indicating mining concessions and facilities which had been given to Arasaka.

400km north-east of that was the Sea of Vapors or Mare Vaporum, which had fewer mining concessions but all of which was colored in yellow - Militech.

However, it was all in actuality owned by the vast light blue swathe of land that dominated most of central and eastern Luna - the ESA.

“V, I’m sure you remember last year when the ESA council suffered that unfortunate accident during their meeting,” Gakulu looked at me with knowing eyes, clearly trying to bait me out.

“Hard to forget that, it was all over the news,” I said nonchalantly, especially as I had sat across the desk of my late boss as he ordered an elite Arasaka runner to scorch the brains of nearly a quarter of the ESA council.

“Biotechnica took most of the blame, as it was their implants, no doubt thanks to the very thorough investigation afterwards and because everyone knows how they cut corners in the name of profit, even at the expense of human life. A few internal ESA scapegoats were also trotted out for failure to properly evaluate the implants used during the meeting. And so very conveniently the entire reason the ESA council was meeting that day fell out of the news cycle, except behind closed boardroom doors.

“Arasaka’s mining concessions in the Sea of Clouds had been up for review and unfortunately for them just a few days prior, a leak from their Frankfurt office revealed that they had been secretly trying to build their own mass driver there.” Gakulu’s eyes flashed with anger.

That would’ve not just pissed off the ESA, but the highriders as well. Their entire national defense was built upon the back of the Tycho and Copernicus mass drivers.

“You were the ones to actually take it out,” I said with the obvious realization in hindsight.

“Of course we were,” he snorted with disgust. “ESA couldn’t clip a vacsuit together without a report in triplicate. I led the specialist highrider work group myself and we dealt with the problem. Naturally, the ESA came in after the fact and claimed it was all their doing, while unofficially thanking us for saving their ibhekoni and cleaning their mess. After all, no one wanted to poke Umlawuli Arasaka.

“The ESA has since then been kicking the problem of the Sea of Clouds down the road. It was obvious to them that Arasaka wouldn’t tolerate losing the mining concessions without drastic consequences. No one wanted to take that journey out the airlock. Now however…” he smirked.

“Saburo’s dead and Yorinobu is far from what his father was,” I nodded.

“Precisely. I’ve also heard backchannel rumors that all is not well within Arasaka.”

“As have I.” I was not about to elaborate. Gakulu had yet to commit to anything about this gig and he wouldn’t be getting anything for free.

He sat back and his eyes glinted perceptively, knowing what I was doing. “The ESA has therefore struck a middle road. They’ve only put the Arasaka concessions ‘on review’, whilst also allowing a few other megacorps to establish themselves on a trial basis in the Sea of Clouds.”

That was news to me.

“Which ones?”

“SovOil and Mitsubishi.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh boy, I bet Arasaka loved that.” 

Mitsubishi was the main rival to Arasaka in Japan itself. They had never come to blows in kinetic warfare despite the world suffering through four major corporate wars, which was a miracle in itself, considering that the Mitsubishi-Sugo division provided the majority of military vehicles for Japan’s SDF.

“Naturally, Arasaka isn’t taking this lying down. My intelligence indicates that they are going to launch a black ops squad to deniably sabotage both megacorps operations. It will look as if they were incompetent and the ‘accidents’ caused by it will lead to loss of life and assets. ESA will have no choice then but to chase both newcomers out and renew Arasaka’s concessions.”

“And this is where we come in.”

“I assume you’re speaking for both you and Silverhand?” he queried curiously.

“We’re a team in this, of course.”

“Just clarifying. Yes, I would hire you both to intercept the black ops team that will assault the Mitsubishi facility.”

But leave the other team striking simultaneously alone. “Ah, so you don’t want SovOil on Luna.”

“Yes, and in the long term, Arasaka as well. Mitsubishi is a much more agreeable corp to work with. In this, the ESA and Highriders are in agreement. However, we can’t be seen to be involved.”

“What do you think? Being really quiet, Johnny.”

I kicked my feet idly in the virtual pool of my Relic datafortress.

“Can’t disagree with the man, really. Never had a bone to pick with Mitsubishi. They only have militarized security because every other corp has them and you can bet they had economic and shadow wars with Arasaka in Japan. I’m just curious about the ESA though. No love between the highriders and them, yet here they’re seemingly cooperating with each other.”

“They know they can’t fight against the other without losing too much. Highriders can’t really afford to sustain casualties, their population is capped to the four Lagrange O’Neill stations and what they can afford on Luna. It’s their main reason for being so interested in Relic.”

I gave a performative look to Johnny and he nodded.

“How much are you offering?” I asked, turning back to Gakulu.

“100k eurodollar each. This is just the first gig I have on offer while you’re here. You can think of me as the ‘fixer’ of Tycho city. I’ll also be the point of contact and negotiation between you and any highrider toes you might step on. Not every workgroup is open minded to anyone from Earth.”

“Deal.”

He stood from his chair and we clasped forearms in agreement.

“This shard has the gig specifics and contact details of an employee of mine, who can help you source any equipment and further intel you might need.”

“Any time constraints we should be aware of?”

“Arasaka still has to smuggle in some of the equipment they need, not to mention some members of the sabotage team, who are coming from Earth. They’ll also wait until lunar night hits the Sea of Clouds, therefore you have four standard days to generally prepare.”

I took the shard from the offered hand and slotted it into a neuroport, doing the full quarantine and analysis routine of the data, before transmitting a copy to Johnny.

“Got it.”

“Excellent. Should this gig succeed, I look forward to further working with you, V.”

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A few hours later, it was our turn to wait outside the OA arrivals terminal.

Johnny and I were reviewing the relevant gig data and trying some of the snacks at the nearby market I had missed during my hurried arrival.

Especially nice was a hydroponically grown, grilled banana snack with cinnamon spice. It hit my taste buds in just the right spot, whilst Johnny who was working with my old taste buds didn’t seem to like it as much.

“It’s all right, a bit too sweet actually.” He grimaced and gave a stink eye to the nearby food vendor who was clearly enjoying the view of Johnny’s currently female backside, which the cargo pants wasn’t hiding enough of.

My amused reply and enjoyment of Johnny’s predicament was cut off by the Orbital Air announcer.

“Orbital Air TychoLines Flight 2491 disembarking.”

I held up a large screamsheet proclaiming the name of my client.

Johnny eyed it out of the corner of his eye, “Lorenzo Moretti? He’s the one for the painting?”

“Yep.”

The painting was currently securely enclosed in a briefcase at my feet, that Johnny had sourced during my convalescence in the clinic.

“What’s this guy’s deal?”

“Art broker and private collector from Italy who also happens to have his fingers in black market investments around the world, one of which is Dogtown.” 

“Huh, so maybe Mr. Hands pointed him in your direction.”

“Entirely possible,” I admitted as the man himself walked into view and immediately spotted me.

Moretti was tall and lean, always wearing tailored suits with golden glowing accents. His optics had bright gold sclera, which when combined with solid blue glowing pupils made it seem like he could stare through your soul.

He was in his mid-forties and was one of those types that I suspected would have body sculpting done to remain at the age visually for the rest of his life. His other concession to showing age was streaks of white in his slicked back, jet-black hair. The only imperfection he allowed was a scar across his left cheek, which was filled in with cyberware to seemingly glow in various colors with his mood.

In his left hand he held an artisanal cane, which I knew had a monomolecular sharp katana inside as his preferred weapon. Hovering behind him and following like an obedient dog, was a floating display case on tiny thrusters that was currently blacked out, but which could at his command show any artwork he was peddling to a client or to securely house any he bought. The case itself was also a weapon, armed with an internal smart gun. How he had gotten that through OA and highrider security probably involved a ton of eddies to smooth things over and his sharp silver tongue.

“Ah! Buongiornio Signora V,” Moretti smiled, giving a sleek nod, his eyes raking up and down my form quickly.

He tried to hide his momentary astonishment but I easily caught it. “Buongiornio, Signore Moretti. I apologize for not being able to deliver it in person due to my medical problems. Thank you for making the trip.”

“What is the price of a ticket to the moon, 16 hours of luxury, zero G and leaving the bosom of Mother Earth? In the name of art preservation… nothing!” He said passionately. “And who is your charming companion? I always thought you worked alone, signora.”

Johnny managed to keep an impressive poker face as I introduced him. “Things change, Signore. The name is Hollow.”

Moretti looked Johnny up and down. “Hmmm, well met… Signore Hollow.”

Johnny folded his arms and nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, Signore.”

“Figured it would be a waste of time trying to fool those special optics of yours, Moretti,” I chuckled.

He held up a recriminating finger to me. “You don’t get anywhere in my profession without being perceptive beyond what cybernetics allows. But come, I’m sure you have a more suitable place for our exchange beyond this quaint food market.”

“Follow me.”

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Finding a place suitable to Moretti’s tastes required us to stay on the surface levels of Tycho City.

When you lived on an airless rock with no atmosphere and a paltry almost non-existent magnetic field, exposing you to cosmic rays and solar winds that could flare into storms with only a few hours warning, it meant that if you built anything on the surface, it had to be hardy and shielded, which required more resources and time to build. Therefore surface real estate was at an exclusive premium. Any ideal restaurant on the moon would also want to give their clientele a view of the real thing and not just artificial camera views projected on walls. 

The Selenic Veil was such a place, a tourist trap catering to the rich from Earth and other LEO stations, situated on the top floor of one Tycho City’s surface domes.

It commanded a view of the entire colony’s surface features and an extensive slice of the crater, still being drenched in the brightness of the current lunar day and featured smart glass that toned the excessive light into something the naked eye and optic could look at without strain. It was a place where the rich dined behind privacy screens they extended at will, the drinks were made from the purest waters harvested from the Lunar poles, which had never been subject to Earth’s pollution and wars since the dawn of the Industrial Age.

The decor accentuated the view and never dominated it, but I couldn’t help but feel it had to have been done by a designer working at the top of their craft. It was refined, yet inspired by cosmic colors and themes, the furniture appearing to float over the floor, the glossy surfaces reflecting a distorted rendition of the lines and colours around us.

“Ah, delightful place,” commented Moretti in appreciation as we sat down at a table.

Booking a spot was something I’d already done when I’d asked for him to come to Luna, just so I wouldn’t have to pay the short notice fee.

I made a two fingered gesture into the air, interfacing with the booth’s systems and the privacy screens silently came down around us.

Johnny put the briefcase on the table and opened it, exposing the small painting to the immediate intense scrutiny of our guest.

Who didn’t waste time and immediately had his nose inches above it, his optics glowing even more intensely as it began radiating active scans.

Moretti’s optic suite was entirely custom, made for him by Cyphire Cyberware out of France and allowed for instant authenticity checks on any artwork he looked at. He was practically a walking, talking artistic forensic lab. It also made any meetings with the man something you didn’t do unless you were prepared for him to learn truths that normally went unnoticed by the majority of optics out there. 

He abruptly harrumphed at what he was seeing, muttering so quickly in Italian that even my new ears and active language translation circs had trouble deciphering it.

“My dear V, I’m almost tempted to hire you again to rid the world of Victor Anglés. His storage and treatment of this precious work was inadequate and contemptible. I can already see some damage that’s going to require a lot of eddies in restoration.”

Unease shot up and down my spine, “I also tried to be as gentle as possible, Signore Moretti.”

He expressively waved my concern off. “I saw and studied your little fracas on the Crystal Palace. You did well protecting the bag you were carrying whilst fighting those leccaculo aziendale. There’s no impact points or friction damage, which is quite amazing. No, Anglés didn’t have the correct temperature and humidity settings in whatever system he was using. No doubt some cheap garbage he thought would be adequate. Luckily my fears that he’d make a fake decoy painting for you to steal were also unfounded, this is the real thing.”

He sat back, the high glow of his optics fading to normality and let out a visible sigh of contentment before regally gesturing to me with an open hand.

The eddies flowed.

I let my eyes light up in acknowledgement of the receipt.

“Thank you V, for saving this small piece of pure humanity in a world of chrome and corruption.”

“You’re welcome, Signore Moretti,” I smiled.

“I’m also glad you are actually you, V. Until you brought out the painting and the successful money transfer, I wasn’t sure I was walking into an elaborate trap. You’re in a Gemini now, yes?”

“Long term occupational injury,” I answered delicately.

He held up his palms, “That is all I needed to know.” He carefully extracted the painting from the case, touching only the sides and his mobile display case opened itself with a hiss of equalizing pressure. A few moments later and a couple of manual adjustments, it was closing up again with his new acquisition.

“Now, what’s there to eat here? I’m not leaving before I have a meal in your delightful company worthy of this place and don’t worry my dear, it will be my treat.”

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* Umlawuli - Emperor

* ibhekoni - bacon

*leccaculo aziendale - corporate ass-kisser

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A/N: Is going to be so much fun imagining Cyberpunk's Luna going onward. CDPR actually had a full DLC planned for it, with V going to the moon, doing gigs etc. But in the end could only squeeze some minor elements of it into one of the endings for the Phantom Liberty DLC. I also didn't want to get too bogged down in V's adaptation to the Gemini, so tried to keep it relatively short and fluid as the game does when V wakes up in the landfill.

Enjoy the weekend and stay awesome chooms.

The Force Wills - Chapter 122

The scout ship emerged from hyper eighteen hours later on the extreme periphery of the Bith system.

All the cloaking systems flickered to green indicators in front of him and Hunter let out a breath of relief.

The passive scanners displayed that around the more commonly used emergence point was the biggest clanker fleet he had ever witnessed in person.

Entire squadrons of Munificents with clustered Recusants, all formed around a core of Lucrehulks. Each squadron of capital ships were spread out from each other, avoiding the threat of hyperspace bombing runs from catching the entire fleet at once. Fighter droids buzzed like swarming insects in precision patrols around each ship, adding to the overall point defense capability.  

Bith itself and their target was two million clicks beyond that at this time of year.

Commander Tano put the scout ship on autopilot, laying in a course that would swoop in from below the plane of the system and intercept the shipyard.

“All right, CT99, eleven minutes to target, final checks,” she ordered.

As much as all four members of the team had been ready for an hour prior to their hyperspace emergence, they obeyed the order. Feeling each mission critical piece of equipment on their harnesses, ammo checks, weapon checks and so on. Tech took the longest but eventually they were all satisfied.

The commander had also done the same and when she was also ready, she looked at each of them in turn.

“Understand this, there will be many bith workers in the AO. If we have to go hot and any bith raises a weapon against you, you take them out. There is no room for frak ups. I also wanted to make sure first, but now that we’re close enough… I can sense that General Durge is here.”

“Please tell me the plan is to kill him, commander,” Wrecker asked with excitement.

“As much as I want to make use of the opportunity, the overall war effort is actually better served with his brand of madness staying among the enemy ranks. Durge is a general in name only and acts as the mouthpiece and enforcer for the strategic minds behind the CIS campaign. If he engages us, we will fight to withdraw only, do not waste time and ammo by shooting him. Use your grenade launcher attachment on the DC17 with thermal detonators, but leave him to me otherwise.”

The commander turned her head as if listening to something only she could hear.

“In any event, if we do our jobs, he’ll just watch as things turn to chaos under his non-existent nose.”

An alarm resounded from the cockpit instrument panels and they could see through the forward transparisteel that the shipyard itself was now dominating the view, with just a sliver of Bith itself below them.

“That’s our queue, rear airlock, gentlemen.”

By the time they had clustered inside the small space, with their armor’s full vac seals engaged the scout ship had bled off the last of the relative velocity and it hovered a mere fifty meters from one of the lowest space stations of the overall shipyard complex.

Commander Tano took point and with a few taps on her armor’s vambrace the inner doors closed behind them.

“Three… two… one…”

The outer doors opened.

CT99 were launched out into space with the air screaming out into the void.

Hunter grimaced as he felt the acceleration tug at his guts, but focused on using his armor’s thrusters in the smallest possible bursts.

The short space hop was over within six seconds and they flung their arms forward to shed away the velocity, before they turned over to land on the station itself with their feet.

Their world was now a landscape of armored metal that stretched out for nearly two hundred meters, above was just an infinite expanse of black void that was dominated by the pink and purple orb of Bith, reflecting the light of the local star and drowning out the starlight completely.

“Double check life sign scramblers and mag boots,” Tano ordered.

Hunter and the rest of the team quickly gave thumbs up signals.

“Move out.”

For the next few minutes their world was reduced to only hearing their own breathing, putting one step in front of the other, making sure their boots properly adhered with each step and scanning the space around them visually for any ships that might actually spot them.

This infiltration point had been chosen to minimize chances of that, but it was still a concern.

Tano halted the squad at a maintenance airlock and gestured to Tech.

The clone stepped forward, knelt next to an exterior panel and got to work interfacing with local systems.

CT99 clustered around him, facing outward and kept up their guard.

It was barely ten seconds before the outer airlock doors opened and Hunter couldn’t help but feel impressed. Tech was usually quite fast slicing any system, but to achieve that with a totally unfamiliar hostile system so quickly…

“One moment, looping local security sensors and we’re good to go,” Tech declared, unplugging his interface spike.

The team knelt next to the open door, grabbing hold of the edge before switching off their mag boots and carefully pulling themselves into the station’s gravity field.

With the world now making more sense with a proper up and down, they clustered inside, whilst Tech closed the outer door and repressurised, using a wireless interface from his vambrace.

“We’re clear in the first corridor,” he confirmed.

Tano led the way as the inner door opened, before they scrambled to either side with DC17s raised, covering both sides of the corridor.

The station interior was distinctly alien to Hunter’s eyes. Bith seemed to have a proclivity for organic curves in their design, which seemed to specifically mimic the shape of their domed heads. The colors in use were either all wrong to his sensibilities or there were colors in use that normal human eyes couldn’t even see. The lighting level was also quite low and their helmets had to engage in night vision mode to make proper sense of their surroundings. There was also a constant dull tone resounding in the air that was just out of reach of his ears in hearing properly.

Commander Tano’s voice piped through the short range encrypted com.

“It’s as I suspected. Only communication we do is via subvocalized comms, keep your helmet seals. No sound may leak. One of the Bith security systems is based on sonic principles and once we move beyond this corridor, it’ll become too time consuming to keep subverting as we go. Engage your holo disguises.”

Hunter tapped the disc shaped device on his belt.

His world was briefly washed out in energetic blues and complex geometries, before it settled down into a new form and vanished from his own sight.

Where Commander Tano and CT99 had been, now there were five bith in the typical uniform of shipyard workers.

They were probably the tallest bith on the station right now, since the holodisguise had to compensate for their armor, but it would generally pass scrutiny as long as they didn’t linger too long in one place. Their weapons were secured on the latches on their lower backs, within the holofields before they began a purposeful walk, acting as a group of yard workers just going about their day.

“No quick movements, I will do the talking if required.”

The first target was a database on this space station that was housed on the upper levels.

They walked into the first turbolift and Hunter had to force himself to relax and act the part. They were in the security net now and anything suspicious would be flagged.

Tano tapped the lift controls and the doors closed.

It sped through the station for six floors before it slowed down and stopped, summoned by someone else.

The door opened again and a bith worker with a toolbelt walked into the lift with a tired air about him. His bulbous black eyes took them in without flinching and he walked in to tap a button on the controls for the 33rd floor.

The doors closed again and the lift hurtled upward.

The bith chittered something in their high pitched native language.

The Sinrich holomatrix could achieve many things to make someone blend in, but the ultra high frequency language of the bith was beyond its capabilities to actively translate.

Tano, as a togrutan, with hearing comparable to the bith, had no problems hearing everything that the worker wearing the light brown dockyard overalls said.

She replied with the aid of her own onboard droid. Hunter could only hear chittering that occasionally lowered itself into the human hearing range. Their HUDs were displaying a running translation.

“New here?” said the bith.

“Team just shipped in,” Tano replied.

“Yeah, the nozho CIS just keeps on demanding more and more labor from the homeworld to keep fixing their broken ships. You on half-pay too?”

Tano nodded, her disguise shifting her bith head into a scowl, or at least their version of it. “Yes, obviously the Urgrinox company hasn’t got enough credits to pay everyone it's hiring. But it’s either this, or the CIS starts outright enslaving us.”

The bith made a high pitch of agreement, “Bastards, our politicians are a bunch of puffer turtles for aligning us with them.”

“Careful where and to whom you say that, friend,” she cautioned.

The bith waved his hand dismissively, “Relax, we’ve been making sure that the turbolifts are safe places to talk. The CIS thinks we’re proudly flying the flag and we’re content to keep it that way, until the time is right.”

Hunter felt somewhat glad that the bith as a whole weren’t traitors and like many worlds before them, had only joined because of the threat of the CIS Navy hanging over their heads and marching droid armies through their cities. At this point in the war, only the deliberately ignorant still believed the CIS was there to ‘liberate’ people and worlds from ‘Republic oppression’. That veneer had been fully ripped off the CIS with dozens of examples across the galaxy. It was also clear that there was the beginnings of an underground resistance movement that at least had some organization.

“I like the sound of that,” Tano encouraged.

The bith turned his head to look at her properly, “You have an artificial voice?”

“Yes, an accident in my youth.”

“It’s very good, which brand is it?”

“Kamem,” she replied without skipping a beat.

“That explains it. Was thinking about installing a subcutaneous comlink… I just keep losing mine. Where are my manners? The name’s Hilal Then, senior systems technician.”

“Humde Phiro,” Tano clapped her hands together twice in a traditional bith greeting. “The lumps behind me are Jolow, Fekiam, Gice and the big one is Thippian.”

A big text appeared in their HUDs from M8 immediately.  “DON’T CLAP.”

Wrecker smoothly turned his attempt to do just that into a small stretch.

Hilal simply nodded at each of them. “Pleasure,” he said as the turbolift came to a stop. “This is my floor and welcome to the Mumun Shipyards.”

He smoothly walked out and the lift doors closed behind him.