A Young Girl’s War Between the Stars

  69

  Jedha. 36 BBY/964 GSC.

  I had barely closed the hatch and sat down to meditate after my meeting with Master Dooku, before someone hit the button on the hatch to request attention. Glancing at Revan’s projection, he nodded and I shifted over, opening up Arthree and shoving the crystal inside before hopping to my feet as the projection dispelled. Checking the camera mounted on the door, I raised an eyebrow and hit the door control.

  “Hey,” Taria greeted, sending me a smile. Her tone was teasing as she asked, “Didn’t forget about me, did you?”

  “No,” I shook my head, motioning for her to enter and closing the hatch behind her. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Yeah, I imagine,” she said, sending me a sympathetic look. “Sorry about what Mundi did, by the way. I heard he spoiled your Knighting.”

  “He tried, but Master Dooku carried through with it regardless. I’m officially a Knight now,” I sent her a smile.

  “That’s great. Congratulations!” Taria chuckled, before pulling out a datapad. “Aaand… congrats on choosing the path of the Sentinel. It comes with lots of perks! You can spend as much time studying lightsaber techniques or the Force as you want, we’ve got tons of resources if you want to learn a new skill or trade, and you’ve got way more leeway to go out and do Jedi things at your discretion without anyone telling you where to go and what to do.”

  Raising an eyebrow as I sat back down on the meditation mat and Taria joined me, I asked, “You planned for that?”

  “Of course,” she confirmed. “This way, if we need you for something, you probably won’t be on assignment doing something like guard duty, teaching younglings in the Temple, bodyguard detail, or helping with negotiations.”

  “Makes sense,” I agreed.

  “Well, at the moment, I don’t actually need you for anything. I’m still doing this stupid dark side purge crap so I haven’t had the energy to go over more than a few field reports for anything interesting. I did catch the report you sent in about Felucia though. Could you tell me more?” Taria asked, and I frowned, before nodding.

  “It is, to put it bluntly, a shithole. If you can, mark it as a planet for all Jedi to avoid. The planet’s entire ecosystem is connected in the Force in ways I’ve never seen before.” Remembering Revan’s warning, I added, “It’s almost like a hivemind. It rejects foreign presences in the Force. Violently. It shrouds the senses, leaving you blind to dangers outside of the very immediate, and even then, those are difficult to distinguish. Worse though, I felt that the planet was one wrong move away from insanity. I think the only reason I didn’t set it off is because of my own alignment within the Force. I think a truly light side Jedi, or a Sith, would be enough to push it into a frenzy—and I’m not certain they wouldn’t be swept up in it.”

  The other Shadow hummed, considering that for a few moments before nodding. “I see. Yes, that would be bad. Alright, I’ll do what I can to get it marked as a no-go zone and too dangerous for Jedi. Of course, by now you know how Masters are. A lot of them think because they’re Masters they know what they’re doing, so I’m sure one of them is bound to try it.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve done my due diligence.”

  “Right,” Taria agreed. “So!” Clapping her hands together, she sent me an eager look. “Add anything new to your collection?”

  Chuckling, I shook my head, before pausing as I remembered my latest acquisition. “Actually, I take that back. Yes, I did.”

  Standing, I made my way back to my armor locker with Taria following, passing my Padawans in the small kitchen eating—and making a mental note to get more supplies because they were voracious little bottomless pits. Opening the locker up, I found what I was looking for and handed it to Taria.

  The blue haired woman hummed, studying the ring as she turned it this way and that, probing at it with the Force. “It’s clearly a dark side artifact, but it feels… funny. What’s it do?”

  “According to Augwynne Djo, it allows the wearer to shapeshift into a raven. Clothes and accessories included, apparently. Somehow.”

  “Whoa! Cool!” Taria grinned. “And it’s safe to use?”

  I nodded. “Yes. If you don’t mind using the dark side of the Force to enact the transformation.”

  Taria waved the words off. “If all it does is transform you, then there’s no real danger of mental corruption or anything from the dark side.” Looking up at me, she asked, “Can I try it?”

  I considered it, but apparently something of my thoughts must have shown. “Ah, you’re saving it for someone special.”

  “A gift for Obi, eventually,” I confirmed. “Augwynne said there was a risk that it would bond to the next person to use it, because in many cases items like this were either locked to their user, or they would be usable by anyone and shared within a clan and guarded zealously. The fact that I got it off of one woman in particular tells me it’s probably the former. So if it’s going to imprint itself on whoever uses it next…”

  “That’d kind of ruin the gift, yeah,” Taria chuckled, before handing it back. I put it away in the small box I’d set aside for it and locked up the locker. “I’d offer to let you see my collection, but you’re leaving now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed, nodding. “After the incident with Mundi, I don’t want to be on the same planet as him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the girl sighed. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing fine. You’re well within the standard we hold Shadows to. Mundi is just… not a lateral thinker. He tends to think inside the box.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” I murmured.

  Taria started back towards the hatch and I saw her out. She turned around and sent me a smile as soon as she was outside. “Don’t be a stranger. I’ll let you know next time I’m off planet. Maybe we can hang out?”

  I nodded. It wouldn’t hurt to extend my professional relationship with the other Shadow into something more personal. She was, after all, one of my links back to the Temple to know what was going on there. And with my new job title, I’d need to know everything I could. “I’d like that.”

  Chuckling, Taria turned away, tossing a wave over her shoulder as she left the hangar. “See you around!”

  Closing the hatch, I sighed as I turned towards the cockpit, only to find my Padawans standing behind me. Allaya sent me an expectant look. “So?”

  “So?” I asked, moving past them to head for my seat and get the ship started.

  Allaya huffed out an annoyed sigh and dropped into her own chair as Asajj likewise sat down and strapped in. “So, when do we go get our crystals!”

  “About that,” I began, and felt the girl’s annoyance, disappointment, and betrayed feelings.

  “We’re not going to get them?”

  I shook my head. “Not here, which means not today. Unfortunately, some things have come up. However, we are going after them. Immediately. In fact, that’s our next stop. We’ll meet up with the Redoubt,” I finished the preflight and signaled our intent to leave, triggering the automated systems in the hangar to begin lifting the ship up to the surface, “and then we’re heading to Dantooine. It’s…” I pulled up the hyperspace map and plotted the most likely course to take. “Eleven sectors galactic northeast from our position, so it’s going to take some time to get there. We’ll have plenty of time to work on your studies while we travel. Once we get there, we’ll find crystals for you.”

  The girls were still a bit disappointed, but they perked up at hearing that. Soon enough, the ship was on the surface and I got us in the air, having the pair watch the entire process from their own consoles. Once we broke atmosphere, I set a course for where we’d parked the Redoubt and engaged the droid brain autopilot.

  Motioning for them to follow, I led the pair back to the meditation area and sat down on the mat. They sat across from me and I spun up an illusion formula, showing the training exercise. “So, what do you think you did wrong?”

  “Getting up this morning,” Allaya grumbled, and I sent her a raised eyebrow. Sighing, she mumbled, “I tried too hard to impress my dad. Wasn’t fully focused on training.”

  I nodded, then looked to Asajj. The blonde girl hummed, thinking it over for a moment before answering, “Thinking back on it, after I pulled up those rocks with the Force, we could have made a mobile shield with them and kept running through the mortar fire.”

  “That’s the benefit of hindsight. Next time, you’ll keep that in mind as a viable strategy.” Looking at the two, I advanced through the footage. “You know what I don’t see here?” When they shook their heads, I paused the playback on the moment when they started tossing rocks at me. “This. You didn’t start counter attacking until you realized that your ‘safe’ position wasn’t safe and you were pinned in.”

  “So, what? We should have attacked?” Allaya asked with a frown, and I nodded.

  “Yes. After assessing the situation, along with your current gear and resources, and determining whether it was viable to do so. You could have charged and brought the whole thing to an end. As I’ve explained, indirect fire relies on some sort of observer. A drone, a droid, cameras, a ship, a person. They have to see you to direct fire on you. If you blind them by taking out their forward observer, they can only fire at your last known position, or expand their area of fire and try to get you, but the odds of hitting without an observer are slim.”

  Frowning, Asajj asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  I sent her an amused look. “What did I say about thinking for yourself? Even if you haven’t studied tactics, you’ve got a brain.” I reached out and poked her in the forehead. “Use it. Humans and their offshoots—including you and me—all have something called a fight, flight, freeze, or fawn response. Well, I suppose you can include ‘flop’ in there as well. It’s the instinct to choose one of those options when presented with a threat. The first is to fight back. Engage the enemy and eliminate the threat. Unless the enemy is vastly superior, or external factors are against it, this is the option I want you to default to.

  “The second is to run away. Also a perfectly legitimate response. If you don’t think you can win retreat, regroup, reposition, and reassess. Sometimes, it’s preferable to retreat than to fight, even if you are superior to the enemy. After all, you can always stack things in your favor to make yourself more superior to the enemy and increase your odds of survival. Draw them into a trap or use terrain to box them in. Running usually also triggers a pursuit response—meaning most predatory species lock in and tend to hyper focus, to their detriment as they forget their surroundings.”

  Looking between the two to make sure they were following along, I continued. “Then, there are the worst possible options. You could freeze up. Don’t do this, you will die. This is why we train. To prevent you from freezing under pressure.”

  The pair nodded and I moved on to the next. “Fawning is when you beg someone to save you. You give up, lie down, and beg to make it stop. It happens more often than you’d think, in the trenches. Some people just can’t hack it and they break down. Assuming they’re behind your own lines, there are only a few good ways to handle it. Leave them alone and hope they snap out of it—but this runs the risk of them turning on you and shooting you in the back so they can get away. Knock some sense into them, until they snap out of it. Also a good way to get shot, but sometimes the best way to break through to someone in the middle of a breakdown. Thirdly, force them to charge at gunpoint. Not great for morale, but it can work. Especially if you’re charging right there beside them. Fourth, send them to the rear—which is what they want and why they broke down in the first place. This is one of the worst things you can do, because it can and will set off a chain reaction of others thinking they can do the same and be excused from the fight. Next, you can execute them. Of course, if you do, expect to have a frag grenade tossed under your bunk in your sleep. And finally, my preferred method. Reassign them.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I smiled, and the girls shivered. “Send them somewhere that sounds safe. Cushy. And then, terrible news! The people you assigned that cushy, safe position? Why, they’ve died to enemy artillery or otherwise. You look kind, sympathetic, and understanding. You remove a volatile element from your forces. And most importantly… you send the message that it’s safer right on the front with you than anywhere else, because leaving the front is actually more likely to get you killed.”

  “That’s awful,” Asajj murmured, and I shrugged.

  “War is awful, and it’s coming. Whether we like it or not.” I held their gazes for a moment, making sure they understood. I wasn’t speaking in hypotheticals. The war was going to kick off very soon and they needed to prepare, or be swept up in it and drown under it. “The only thing we can do is train and prepare. Do you want to die because someone couldn’t handle their shit? Do you want to be shot in the back because the person you trusted to stand beside you in the trench couldn’t take it and wanted to run? Do you want to have to execute someone for failure to follow orders? Or have your men turn on you for what they see as blatant cruelty, because you’re easier to get to than the enemy commander? Sometimes, you have to make terrible decisions, because they’re less bad than the alternatives.”

  The pair were silent for a few moments as they considered that, before Allaya eventually asked, “What if the person fawning isn’t behind your lines?”

  I felt my lip curl in disgust. “Cowards, traitors, collaborators. They’re the ones who will surrender to the enemy. Give up intelligence freely. Even work with the enemy if the enemy promises they won’t have to fight.” Frowning, I added, “If the situation ever comes up, you must never hesitate to execute a traitor. If the choice is between killing a traitor and an enemy, kill the traitor. Today’s enemy may be tomorrow’s ally, but a traitor will always be a traitor.”

  Now, some armchair psychologist or historical revisionist might think I was being hypocritical there, given my recent change in job title, or the fact that I was part of a faction planning to break away from the Republic.

  I wasn’t.

  No, the simple fact of the matter was that you can’t betray someone who has already betrayed you. Leaving the Republic, even engaging in a defensive war against them when they inevitably tried to send forces to prevent us from doing so, wasn’t a betrayal. They had failed to uphold their end of the social contract and had done everything they could to stymie efforts to see that rectified. They betrayed every member planet they had failed to protect first. Breaking away to form our own nation was the national equivalent of leaving an abusive relationship.

  As for becoming a Sith, at least in name, and planning to kill Jedi, Senators, and more… Well.

  Do you call the doctor with a knife cutting off a rotting limb a murderer for removing the rot? Or is he saving your life? Sure, you’ve lost a limb, but the truth was you lost it to the rot long before you lost it to the knife. Unfortunately, that was exactly what the Republic and the Jedi Order needed—someone with steady hands using a knife to remove what was killing them.

  They absolutely wouldn’t see it that way, of course. But sometimes, you had to do what was best for someone even if they didn’t agree with it in the moment.

  “What’s the last one?” Asajj asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Hm?” I asked, then chuckled. “Ah. ‘Flop.’ You pass out. Faint. Your brain packs it up and goes out for lunch. You become dead weight for your teammates. This is why we train. So you don’t do that either.”

  Standing, I brushed my robe off. “Meditate on that a while. I’m going to do some thinking of my own.”

  I left them to it and made my way back into the cockpit, taking my seat and kicking the chair back. Pulling out my computation orb, I settled in to meditate and work on it for the few hours of flight across the system to the Redoubt.

  Eventually, the proximity alarm pulled me out of it and I looked up in time to see us slip into the larger ship’s hangar. We were met in the hangar by Capt. Keen again, the woman giving me a salute as the hatch opened and I ushered my Padawans and Arthree out. “Welcome back, Col. Mereel.”

  “Thank you, captain,” I nodded as she fell into step alongside us. “What’s our status?”

  “We’re still cleaning the gunk out, but we’re good to go on your orders. We can finish up in transit.”

  We took the stairs to the upper deck and I led her to my office, stopping off long enough to assign my Padawans some basic physical training—by which I mean, I told them to go use the Force while beating on each other with sticks. Once we were behind closed doors, Capt. Keen reached up and removed her rank pips before slipping them into a pocket.

  I raised an eyebrow and she smiled. “I’m on break for a few minutes. You don’t mind do you, ma’am?”

  “I don’t,” I agreed. “I’m not exactly wearing a uniform or my rank insignia right now.”

  The older woman nodded. “How’d it go?”

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I let out a sigh and felt her sympathy from where I stood. “…It could have been better.” Shaking my head, I added, “Thankfully, it did end mostly in my favor. My Knighting was finalized, so I am officially a Jedi Knight and Sentinel. That means I’m free to wander and act upon my own recognizance for the most part. I also received new orders from Master Dooku.”

  “Oh?” Aylin asked, and I nodded. “Anything I should know, or…?”

  “Or,” I answered quietly.

  “Ah,” she nodded, understanding. “Understood. What do you need from me?”

  Reaching up, I ran a hand through my hair as I thought on what I had discussed with Master Dooku and Revan. “Firstly, set course for Dantooine and get us moving.”

  She nodded and reached out, tapping the holoprojector table and brought up the galaxy map. Her fingers danced over the buttons for making an internal call and a moment later, the line picked up. “This is Comms.”

  “It’s Keen. Set course for Dantooine and get us under way. Maintain comms blackout until we’re at least to Ord Mantell.”

  “Roger that, cap’n.”

  “Keen out.” The captain disconnected the call and sent me a smile. A moment later, I felt more than heard the whine of the hyperdrive shift as the engine, which had already been spooled up and ready to go—likely from the moment they detected the Rusted Silver on approach—engaged and a full wall panel on the far side of the room lit up, showing a display of hyperspace from the camera feed. “What else?”

  “We’re not in a hurry to get there, so you should take some time to schedule short shore leave and training for our pilots. I’d also like to borrow one of the fighters to take my Padawans out to train them on it.”

  “I can arrange that,” she agreed.

  “After we’ve finished our trip to Dantooine, we need to make a stop by Onderon.” As soon as the word left my mouth, I felt the woman’s surprise as she perked up.

  “May I ask why?”

  I gave it a moment of thought before nodding. “I find myself in need of a second set of armor. Something with some history behind it, that I can strip the paint from and slap a fresh coat on. The older, the more battle damaged, the more steeped in blood the better. Then, I’ll need access to the machine shop you use onboard to fabricate new armor pieces. I need to make a helmet, and for no one to ask questions.”

  “This is related to the or, isn’t it?” she asked, leaning against the table, her blue eyes studying my face intently.

  “Yes.”

  The older woman hummed. “Well, if it’s old Mando armor you want, Onderon’s the place. There are ruins all over the planet, given its history.”

  We fell silent for a few moments before she asked, “What can we expect? What sort of danger will I be putting my people in?”

  “If everything goes well? Minimal. Maybe some pirates, to keep the men sharp.”

  “And if everything doesn’t go well?” Aylin pressed.

  I shook my head. “I’ll be taking the brunt of the danger on myself and my Padawans. Either solo covert ops or bringing them along for training purposes where I can. I imagine most of those missions will be near key Republic worlds. Though, I can’t promise that the Trade Federation or Republic won’t try something if they detect us in one of their sectors, once the announcement of the secession goes through.”

  That would complicate things like refueling and resupply. Luckily, I had my own personal fleet of formerly pirate ships for exactly that purpose. I made a mental note to send out a message to have a few of them meet up with us, that way we could use them to resupply.

  “Alright. Then it’s business as usual.” Straightening up, she pulled her rank pips out of her pocket and put them back on. “I’d better get back to the bridge to finish up my shift. Cindy and I are playing Sabacc later. You want to join?”

  Thinking it over, I nodded after a moment. “Sure. I don’t know the rules.”

  Aylin’s lips briefly twisted into a mischievous smile before she wiped the expression off her face. Her emotions remained, however. Entirely too smug and predatory—as though she had already won. “Don’t worry, it’s easy to pick up. My quarters, nineteen hundred? I’ll have food brought up from the officers’ mess.”

  I sent her another nod and she grinned, before leaving my quarters radiating amusement and anticipation. Unfortunately for the captain, I had spent entirely too many hours of downtime in between shellings playing cards not to pick up a trick or two from our unit’s most notorious card shark.

  Hopefully, Visha’s lessons serve me well, I mused.

  Locking the door, I turned to Arthree and motioned for him to open up. Retrieving Revan’s holocron, I moved over to my desk and sat down, putting the holocron in front of me.

  “This mask of yours. You said it was probably on Rekkiad?”

  “Not mine. I just claimed it for a time, before passing it on to Canderous. The Mask of the Mandalore. Alongside the Darksaber, it is the central unifying object for the Mandalorians. It’s almost a holy relic to them. Whoever wins the mask is Mandalore and unites the clans,” the projection explained as he appeared, arms crossed as he sat in the chair across from me. “As for its location, I’m not sure. However, knowing Canderous, he put it back where Malak and I hid it—on Rekkiad. Likely behind some nasty test meant to make sure that whoever claimed it was truly worthy of it.”

  “What’s Rekkiad like?” I asked, sitting back in my seat and studying the man across from me.

  “Hoth. Or Ilum. Any one of a hundred ice planets, really. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, practically.”

  Nodding, I turned over what I had been told of the mask. As Revan said, whoever held it would unite the Mandalorian clans. And we really, really needed that. Sooner, rather than later.

  Still, I imagine the same warning I was given about the Darksaber applies to the Mask. If I claim it, I make myself a target. I also can’t just claim it and give it to Jaster. They’d have to be won in combat. However… nothing says I can’t collect them, lock them away somewhere secure, and hold on to them until they’re needed.

  We can go a few more years I think with how peaceful things have been on Mandalore. The Death Watch and the clans supporting them, or the ones who are undecided, or who just haven’t aligned with the united Mandalore are all scattered and not causing problems at the moment. We don’t exactly need the manpower yet either.

  So… Swing by Rekkiad, collect the Mask. Make a trip to Coruscant, collect my saber. Then find somewhere to stash them for a while. Tython would work.

  With that course of action decided I moved on to the other target. “And your personal mask?”

  Revan chuckled. “There’s no telling. Probably in someone’s private collection. Maybe sitting in some dusty corner of what used to be a Revanite cult temple. Who knows? The better question is, are you prepared to do what needs to be done?”

  I frowned crossing my arms over my chest as I considered. After a few moments, I said, “I need more training.”

  “That’s a constant in a Jedi’s life. Or a Sith’s,” Revan nodded. “There are some things you should probably experiment with then, to see if you’re compatible. Sorcery and mechu-deru. Several holocrons worth of spells and foundational knowledge for both have been painstakingly transcribed into this holocron over the millennia. We can start whenever you’re ready.”

  “Which would you recommend?”

  Revan chuckled. “Sorcery. There are many, many applications of sorcery beyond what most Sith dabble in. Most are only concerned with the mystical. In finding better ways to kill, or avoid being killed, usually by Force techniques. However, having studied it myself in the time since it was copied into my data banks, there is a very low bar of skill required to perform feats such as transmutation—changing one material into another. For instance, durasteel into beskar, or songsteel. Creating your own artificial kyber crystals. Producing or enhancing practically any material you can get your hands on. Blending metals into alloys they were never meant to make. Giving one material the properties of another—such as making cortosis as sturdy as beskar. And that’s just focusing on the materials science aspect. There are plenty of things you can do that don’t require delving into the truly nasty elements of sorcery, involving sacrifices and the like.”

  Grinning, I leaned forward in my seat. “You have my interest. Why wait?”

  “Very well,” the projection smiled. “Force Sorcery is the act of enforcing your will on the material and spiritual world through the Force. The Sith treat this as a violent process, as they do with most things, but it doesn’t have to be. On the material side, nuclear decay, fission, fusion, and chemical reactions are all natural processes—you’re just using the Force to direct them…”

  Coruscant. 36 BBY/964 GSC.

  Looking at the number displayed on his holocom, Palpatine raised an eyebrow. Clearing his throat, he answered, audio only. “Speak.”

  “Senator. The person of interest you sent out an alert about? The Jedi, Tanya Mereel? I’ve just learned that she arrived here on Mandalore yesterday and is preparing to leave again.”

  “Hmm. I see,” he murmured. Curious as to why it had taken nearly a whole day to get the information, he asked, “Why was I not informed sooner?”

  “The visit was unplanned. Only President Satine and Mandalore Mereel knew ahead of time. Information security protocols and physical security around key areas such as the spaceport have been increased recently. I only found out something was happening because of the logistics involved in the President and her security detail moving around.”

  Nodding, Palpatine let out a quiet sigh and forced a smile. “Good work catching it, then. It’s best if you don’t jeopardize your position. We need more loyal Republic citizens like yourself, willing to do what needs to be done. Now, was there anything else?”

  “Oh, yes! She was accompanied by two children. Girls. One human, one human and something else—maybe Zabrak halfbreed.”

  Palpatine raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in his seat. “Go on.”

  “I got pictures—”

  “Send them to me,” he ordered, and a moment later, his computer terminal beeped. He pulled up the images and studied them intently.

  The first thing he noticed was that the Jedi had grown. He selected out her image and updated his files, to send out the updated image to his other assets later.

  As for the children, it was as the informant said. Two girls, most likely under ten. One was baseline human, with red hair. The other was some human mix, with blonde hair. Both wore the typical Padawan braid and robes.

  So she’s taken a Padawan. Which means she’s been promoted, or claimed Knighthood for herself. Jedi don’t typically take on more than one Padawan at a time, so she’s likely escorting one of them to their Master. The question is, which one is her Padawan.

  “Can you tell me where they’re going?” he asked, looking away from the images for a moment.

  “To a ship in orbit. The Redoubt. From there, I’m not sure. I’ll ask around.”

  “Good. Thank you. Unless there’s more, that will be all,” Palpatine dismissed the informant.

  As the call disconnected, he turned his attention briefly back to the image before reaching into his coat and pulling out his second personal holocom. Inputting a number from memory, he waited for the line to pick up.

  “Yes, lord?”

  “It’s time. See to it that the item makes it to the appropriate hands.”

  “Yes, my lord. Your will be done.”

  Disconnecting the call, he pocketed the holocom and leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face.

  Now, we wait. Once it reaches the market, her old friend Senator Palpatine will send her a heads up, as a ‘fellow collector.’ Then… we shall see.

  His grin shifted into a sly smile. Who knows. Perhaps one of her Padawans will let their curiosity get the best of them…