A New Jedi in an Old Republic

Mandalore

Jan slipped through the shadows, long experience being her guide where local knowledge failed as she contemplated her assignment. Obi-wan and the Senator had agreed with her assessment that there was more going on with this particular case than a single warehouse. However, they all knew, the problem was one of evidence. There had to be proof inside of the larger nature of the plot, be it one that they had misread or was true to their worries.

Or, as the good Senator from Naboo had put it, "proof of a systemic problem, and not one that has taken advantage of the weakness of the underclasses of the galaxy".

That she had said the words so casually made the experienced spy wince in pain on the inside. There was no real 'under' in people, as was her experience. Just those that didn't have what they wanted out of life. Be it an education, mobility, the Force, or simply a better life.

Jan had long since admitted to herself she was part of that group. That the others hadn't seen it was a point she kept to herself.

Crossing a street when it wasn't full of traffic, Jan wore her casual mechanic's clothes, blending perfectly in with any other foreign crewman on any of the ships that docked here on a day-to-day basis. It was a far cry from her guise as a handmaiden, which was the point. Not only a change of clothes, but she had different body language, which was in of itself an even more effective disguise. Even Kyle knew that, the lug.

Today was survey work. She was going to recon the warehouse again to see what the comings-and-goings were. Not that she expected much, but it had to be done. There was simply too much material there to move without drawing the wrong kind of attention, and moving the valuable cargo in a panic would also draw the same attention.

She felt that these people were professional, so she would treat them like it. Pawns, of course. But professionals still. She could work her way up from there.

It was a slow but classic method of investigation. Look where the opposition wasn't, and catch them completely unawares.

Speaking of catching unawares, Jan changed direction, headed for a shadowed doorway. Her pace never changed, her gait measured and certain.

She stepped up beside the Sith, Ventress, and waited.

She didn't respond at first, but then adjusted her stance to let Jan step into the full shade. "What are you doing here?" she hissed without turning to look at the smaller human.

"Same thing you are," Jan said, fully aware of how dangerous the Nightsister was, and that the best way to deal with it was to first show no fear. "Anything?"

"Why would I want to share with you?", Ventress hissed.

"Well, because I can go to the other side, watch from there, and then we can share afterwards?"

"This is a disturbing trend."

"You haven't been in this business long, have you?" Jan threw back. She leaned away, not to make distance, but to see further. "Let me give you some advice then. You don't question who is willing to work with you, but you don't have to trust them either. If you question everything, you stop being able to do anything."

"Faith," Ventress summarized.

"That's one way to look at it," Jan agreed. "I was taught to call it 'Decision Paralysis'. So, you willing to cooperate on this for now?"

"I can see myself using you for that purpose," the Sith tried to maintain the upper hand in their negotiations through careful phrasing, much as Dooku had taught her.

Jan saw through it. "Don't worry, I'll be using you too."

Ventress glared at the back of her head, but did nothing. "They went for food, leaving behind a guard shortly ago. If you're quick, you can sneak around and watch for their return."

"Don't sneak," Jan countered. "People see that."

"I suppose you know better than a Sith?"

"In the ways of the Force? Not a chance. In the ways of the not-Force? Completely." Jan glared at the Sith. "Don't underestimate people because they don't have the same skill set you do."

Ventress recalled the ambushes the woman in arm's reach had laid for her and her fellow acolytes. There was truth in her words. Painful ones. But who was she, a Sith, to shy away from pain if it meant becoming better. "Go," she said, rather than admit such failings. "I will find you later."

Jan handed her a small communicator, then was gone, fading into the crowd.

Coruscant Orbit

The Sathanas dropped out of Hyperspace on the reserved flight lane, space around the cruiser clear for dozens of kilometers. Corvell watched from the bridge as the lights of hyperspace gave way to the shining jewel of the capital of the Republic.

Thousands of glittering lights surrounded them on all sides, ships, not stars. "Helm, bring us into orbit," he commanded. "I will inform the Commodore of our arrival."

"That will not be necessary," the stern voice of Tarkin cut across the bridge. The captain turned to face him, but did not move from his spot. "I can tell when a ship leaves hyperspace just fine."

Unwilling to argue, Corvell simply nodded his head. "Did you want to wait for us to enter orbit before disembarking, or did you want to take a shuttle?"

"I will wait," Tarkin chose it as a show of strength. To arrive on a bloodied capital ship, and not racing ahead in a shuttle showed that he was in control of his own timing. And certainly not held to the dictates of the Senate. "Although if I have your permission," and despite that, he still knew his position on this ship. Guest, "I would like to have Skywalker take me down again."

"I see no problems with that." Corvell nodded in agreement. "He has to return to the Temple regardless to make his reports, so he can do that after delivering you."

"A curious young man," the sharp-nosed man mused aloud. "What do you think of him?"

"In what way? As a man? A pilot? A Jedi? I can tell you little of the last. The middle? I have watched the replays of his flights, and I have never seen his like. If the Jedi have but a hundred of him, they could win any battle. As a man?" Here, Corvell paused. "Not yet."

"I tend to agree with your assessment. Should the opportunity arise, would you be willing to have him aboard your ship again?"

There was more here than what Corvell knew. He recognized this instantly. "I would like to see him, and others like him, join the Navy properly, rather than being seconded from their actual duties," he gave a very technical reply. "But this war has barely started? How will we handle the volunteers?"

"Logistics will be the end of this war," Tarkin agreed. "Our enemy has put themselves into a bind with their dependence on Droids. Materials and factories can be more easily blocked and destroyed than a group of hard-working sentients who will rise up to defend what is theirs."

"The problem with that," Corvell cautioned, "is that while you have an excellent defence, how do you convince the population to attack? To risk their lives on some other world for somone else? With the Clones, they hold the whole of the Republic to be their home, so that is not a problem for them."

Tarkin frowned, rolling over the counterpoint in his head. "I do not have an answer to that," he admitted. "I need to, though. Thank you for pointing out the flaw in my arguments. I will be more prepared for when I face the Senate and whomever has bought a position as Admiral in the Grand Navy."

Corvell winced at the truth. "The trick is knowing the ones who can be led," he offered.

"Which I won't know until I see them," the older man groused. "I bet not a one of them has flown a ship in so much as an anti-piracy patrol in the past decade."

"I would not take that bet," the captain replied quietly. "Though I would recommend you head down to the Flight Deck sir, we are only a few minutes from our assigned orbit."

Tarkin turned his gaze to the front window of the ship. "Yes. I shall do just that." With a stiff turn, he made his way to the lift at the back of the bridge, leaving the Captain to his duties.

* * *

Anakin was not worried. He sat in his flight suit, the Jedi robes of his station over them while meditation in front of his starfighter. He most definitely was not worried.

He would have to face the Council soon. There was no way around it. And Obi-wan. Which would be even worse.

He heard, and felt the approach of R2, whistling in Binary that all the checks were complete. "Thank you, R2." If there was any hope of a mechanical malfunction, it would not be from his loyal companion.

He felt another presence. "Flight Commander," he addressed the Clone as he approached. So far, of all the Clones on the ship, this one was the easiest for him to pick out. Perhaps because he was the one he had the most face to face time with who wasn't in his flight.

"Sir," the Clone replied, ingrained training to address the Jedi formally still in force, despite Anakin's best efforts. "You've been chosen to fly Commodore Tarkin down to the surface, then you are released to go to the Jedi Temple." He saluted. "It has been a pleasure to fly with you."

Anakin stood and returned the salute, rather than think about what was said. "Same. I would enjoy flying with you again in the future," he put on his ususal cocky grin. "That way I can teach you more little tricks."

The Clone pilot's eyes lit up. "I would enjoy that very much!"

It would never happen, but the man would put the effort into surviving out of hope. Anakin doubted he would ever see the outside of the Temple again after these past weeks.

"You look deeply troubled," he completely missed Tarkin's approach, and nearly jumped when he heard the man come up beside him. "What worries you?"

Anakin shook his head. "It is nothing you need concern yourself with, sir."

"Nonsense!" Tarkin glared at him in a way that indicated disapproval, but not disappointment. "You are a valuable member of this crew, this Navy and this Republic! Now speak your mind."

For a moment, Anakin hesitated, then he saw something in Tarkin's eyes that made him realize he could trust the man. For all his posturing, he still listened and gave good feedback. Never judgmental. "It's the Council," he said, then he talked calmly and carefully about how he was worried he would be chastised and punished for his choice, worried for the future.

"It sounds to me like you need a character witness," Tarkin concluded. "Yes, I see. Flight Commander, would you be willing to write a letter of recommendation for Skywalker here, that he is a good pilot and such?"

"Of course!" The Clone saluted. "I will do so right away." He turned and went to his office to fill out the form letter he knew was somewhere in the system.

"You don't have to do that!" Anakin objected.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Tarkin took a firm tone with him. "I meant what I said. Now, you will come with me for my reports to the Senate, then I will return the favour and stand by you when you face your leadership." Tarkin wondered what the reaction of Katarn would be. Of the members of the Council, he had displayed an admirable sense of responsibility and action. He would enjoy working with the man, he predicted.

For his part, Anakin was confused at the offer. It was unfamiliar. But then again, what was familiar in this Galaxy? And weren't the Jedi supposed to explore? In a way, he was breaking new ground. Having someone to vouch for him, someone important, would go a long way. "I think," he finally said, "I would like that very much."

Kafrene

The Raven's Claw powered down, the small courier landing on a refuelling pad. Kyle leaned back in his seat and turned to Nejaa. "Well, it'll be a couple hours before we're ready to leave. Want to see the sights?"

For his part, the Green Jedi leaned forward to look up at the other side of the city. "This is not a beautiful place," he said as he read a particularly vile piece of graffiti. "It's crowded, full of criminals and people without hope." He got out of his seat. "Of course I want to see it!"

Kyle got up after him, and followed him down to the aft loading ramp. "Here," he said as he opened his armoury and grabbed a spare stormtrooper rifle. "Carry this, as a deterrent. Your lightsabre might not be recognized, but a blaster will."

Nejaa saw the logic in that, and strapped the blaser over his shoulder to carry it, but not as a 'ready to fire' display. "Shall we?"

It didn't take them long to find the first bar, the grimy place a painful contrast in neon lights and dark shadows. The two men strode with confidence up to the bar, and ordered drinks. "Nothing heavy," Kyle said, "I'm flying once my ship is fuelled up," he tossed more money than was needed onto the bar, where the barkeep took it all with a swipe of its paw.

Neither Kyle nor Nejaa recognized the species of the proprietor, but they didn't let that stop them. "What's the news?"

"War!" the sentient said.

"We knew that!" Kyle joked. "But is it a real war, or just make-believe?"

"Oh, it's real alright." The bartender frowned, or gave what passed for one through two sets of mouths. "The Republic and the Confederacy. Talk to Gra in the corner over there," a Trandoshan was gestured to, "he can tell you more."

"Thanks!" Nejaa took their drinks and headed for the indicated table. "Hello," he said, subtly tapping the Force to make him more friendly and welcoming. "We were told you were the one to talk to about the news," he said. Kyle sat down beside him. "Can we buy you a drink?"

"Sure," the Trandoshan said through a translator, his reptilian mouth not well suited for Common. "I can inform you stupid humans. What did you want to know?" He signalled for a drink, and Kyle raised payment in one hand.

"We know about the war," he said, affecting the signs of a space who has been out and about for months, "but past that, it's all a confusing mess. We're hoping to get a straight story."

"Not much. It's just the powerful arguing with the powerful, with us little people between them," the lizard said as his drink arrived, and Kyle paid for it. "If anything, it's like a gang going at it among itself, a split in the leadership. They might reconcile after punching each other, with a change in leadership, or they might go their separate ways. It's too soon to tell, everyone who could determine that are still high on patriotism and the scent of money."

* * *

Sitting down in the cockpit of their ship, the two Jedi held their silence before speaking. "Well, that was informative," Nejaa started off.

"Not so much," Kyle drew on his vaster experience. "The scale and the distance of the conflict mean that people will try to parse it in terms that they can understand." He gestured out at the failed mining station turned trade hub. "These people? Might never see the war at all. But to us, it's something that is front and centre in our lives."

"I see your point, but I think you are not giving them credit enough." Nejaa looked up at the other side of the station. "Everyone is capable of looking out for their self interest, but people are also capable of placing themselves in a group. A family. A gang. Business. Friends. Shipmates, Guilds. Worlds. Sectors. What can we do to unify the people under the banner of the Republic? To convince themselves that they are greater than they think they are?"

Kyle didn't have an answer to that.

Seranno

"I am in place," the vague hologram spoke, the flickering blue projection showing the distance involved. "I simply await your command."

"My command," Dooku said without looking at the agent, "is to await for Grevious' arrival, then lower Naboo's planetary shields to allow him to threaten the world."

"I understand," the agent replied, then closed the channel.

Dooku allowed himself a small smile at such a competent minion. He had no doubts that this part of the plan would work perfectly.

Mandalore

Patience was a virtue in many disciplines, of this Ventress had no doubts. It had served her well as a Sith, and she was impressed by the Republic Agent's own ability to simply wait. They had moved about, for being in one place for too long was bound to grab attention, and right now she was at the front of the building, watching the closed vehicle entrance.

There had been some loading and unloading, enough to make it seem like business was normal. But in the Force, she could feel the tightness and tenseness about the place. The occupants wanted to do something to break it, but they were prevented from it.

Their cargo hadn't moved at all.

She was patient. The Agent was patient. They were not. That is why they would fail.

From one side, she saw movement. It tried to be sneaky and stealthy, but clothing like that stood out, regardless of the motions involved. Ventress had to admire someone being so brazen at hiding that people would ignore them, the audacity something she was herself not in a position to show off.

No, if she wanted people to see her coming, they would see her coming. Two lit lightsabres would do that. She would not hide. She would want people to see her.

This person, she saw, was somehow being hidden and obvious at the same time. She didn't know if it was luck, skill or just plain stupidity, but she wasn't about to let an opportunity like this pass her by.

"Agent," she whispered into the communicator. "Out front, someone is trying to sneak in. Badly."

"Our badly, or general badly?" The reply was hushed, but not a whisper.

"I could describe it, but there are no words," Ventress stated with a bit of hum or. "Bad enough that no one is actually paying attention."

"Coming." There was click, and Ventress put down the device.

The agent arrived moments later, fading into Ventress' view to her left. Ventress nodded, and the two quickly joined up. "Local?" the Agent asked.

"I doubt it. Doesn't have the look of a Mandalorian."

Jan didn't look, but watched anyways. "I see what you mean," she said, her professionalism hiding her opinion, but Ventress was able to pick it out anyway. "Hold on, she looks familiar."

"Where from?" The Sith wondered if someone less capable from the Republic was stumbling into their action. It would be polite to give the Agent the first chance to correct their error. If that failed, she would step in.

"Not sure." The Agent thought hard, then risked looking at the other figure directly. It wasn't a good thing, as it meant you were paying attention to them, and they could tell right back.

But the risk paid off. The sheer shock coming off the Agent was almost physical. Ventress looked at the new arrival, unable to keep up with the implications before they spun away from her.

"Senator!?!"