Interlude: Hired Hands

The dull grey orb of the galaxy's largest ecumenopolis spun lazily under the tiny speck that was the Judiciary headquarters. Unlike other economic or industrial centers, Coruscant lacked extensive orbital infrastructure other than the network of defense and shielding stations and weather control satellites. As with every other piece of real estate in the capital of the galaxy, the orbitals had to deal with an order of magnitude higher traffic of both civilian and corporate vehicles and vessels than anywhere else in known space, except possibly Nar Shadda. The number of space lanes needed to handle literally millions of daily arrivals and a series of disasters involving artificial satellites in the past had mandated the current policy of clear skies... which made the continued presence of a Lucrehulk class trade ship for over a month rather odd.

Captain Andrim's enormous vessel dwarfed the Judiciary station itself, and the fleet of CR90 corvettes Judiciary officers and Jedi used to police known space looked nothing so much as a flock of minnows following in the wake of a whale. It said a lot about the current state of the Republic, Bail Organa thought, that an ostensibly civilian trade vessel could overpower every patrol and enforcement ship currently in the galactic capital combined. That the Judiciary had to pay the enormous ship's even larger docking and maintenance fees during the lengthy investigation just added insult to injury. Five weeks, a hundred investigators, and they'd yet to find results conclusive enough for Bail's satisfaction. Unfortunately, there was only so long he could afford to keep the search going under the current political climate... and the 'good' Captain knew it.

"Ah, Senator Organa," the silver-haired, silver-eyed, golden-skinned Arkanian said as they met in the soft light of his rather extravagant quarters. Bail could glimpse artwork and relics from half a dozen planets even in the relatively dim illumination, though the true extent of the collection eluded him. Arkanians were not so sensitive to bright lights that normal levels of artificial illumination would hurt them, but the Captain was technically entitled to the near-gloom that impeded Bail's sight, especially in his own quarters. "Is the Internal Activities Committee finally satisfied with their findings, or will this charade go on? There are entire worlds dependent on my prompt deliveries."

"Given the political and institutional importance of the matter, Captain, I'd rather be thorough than hasty." Bail shuddered, and not because the Captain's cabin had sufficiently low temperature to be approaching Arkania norms - or freeze non-alcoholic beverages. "This investigation was ordered by the Senate at the suggestion of Jedi investigators."

"The Jedi ultimately responsible for this incident in the first place? The same Jedi that set foot on this ship for five minutes then left, citing some supernatural ailment preventing them from doing their job?" The captain scoffed. "I hardly think the Jedi Order is being objective here. After all, whatever happened it was one of their own that did it."

"The Jedi have been trusted guardians of the Republic for thousands of years. If they're saying something is wrong, then we should trust their opinion." Besides, Bail knew more about the Jedi than most and had seen the recordings of the Council's investigation. If something about the ship could unnerve a pair of experienced Jedi just by being here and a glimpse of the destroyed security room had nearly knocked one out...

"And what if this opinion is more than a little influenced, senator Organa?" the belligerent Arkanian asked before slamming a heavy folder on his desk. A physical folder at that - printed files that were both an extravagant expense and annoyance to read compared to the usual data sticks or electronic file transfers. "See, I have been wondering why a senator might get personally involved with an investigation such as this. Even for an incident of both internal and interstellar politics, the investigation itself is quite outside a politician's skills."

"I am chairman of the Internal Activities Committee, I could hardly do less-"

"Senator, neither of us wants to be here. Unfortunately," he tapped a cat-like claw against the folder, "one of us does seem to have a motive to be. There have been less than five years since the Alderaan Ascendancy Contention. A succession crisis in your home system arbitrated by..." he made a show of opening the file and reading in the gloom. "...Jedi Master Jorus C'Baoth. He even resolved it to House Organa's favor. How informative."

"What are you implying?" Bail barely kept a civil tone at such a heavy-handed accusation. Many of his political opponents have accused him of dishonesty before, but they knew better than to do so to his face.

"I imply nothing." The white-haired man rose from his seat, looming over Bail from the advantage of inhuman height. "I want my ship free to move around the galaxy in pursuit of trade and profit. I do not want to be held here at the insistence of an Order as willfully incomprehensible as they are unwittingly parochial. I don't want to deal with politicians that wield collusion and corruption for the 'greater good'."

Bail glared at the taller alien, considering everything he could say to that. His cooperation and even friendship with many Jedi were both genuine and an attempt to do more good in the galaxy, but he knew what it would look like from the Captain's perspective. And Master C'Baoth's resolution of the Contention would only make things worse. In the end, there was nothing to say...

xxxx xxxx

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"...as soon as Knight Voss attempted psychometry inside the security room he was incapacitated. Since my senses were barely working at the time with the strength of the dark side in the area I elected to take him to safety over continuing the investigation." Adi Gallia's hair-tendrils seemed to wilt at the memory of that oppressive aura. "Honestly Masters, it didn't feel like any single death I'd ever felt. Both Knight Voss and I have been on Hutt slave-ships before. Even if Master C'Baoth had drawn deeply from the dark side at the moment of his death, what could he have done that feels worse than thousands of slaves being tortured over decades in one place?"

"The full facts of the matter, you had not," Yoda reassured her from atop his hover-chair. "Felt Master C'Baoth become one with the Force I did not. Felt him die I still did." Confused whispers filled the Council chambers, more in the Force than physical. The other Jedi present did not understand what the Grandmaster was saying any more than Adi Gallia did. How could one die and not become one with the Force? "Unnatural that is. Hallmark of Sith ritual it is."

"We need to reopen the investigation." Mace Windu's dark brown face was twisted into a severe scowl. Of all the masters on the Council, the Korun Battlemaster was the most vocal in his opposition to Darksiders. "We no longer have mere rumors of Sith activity or evidence that could have been pointing at other, less ominous sects. We have one of the Order's most learned Masters falling and taking two dozen other Jedi with him in an attempt at a schism as public as it was insane. We have a dead Senatorial representative, and a wealthy Arkanian trader and the scion of the third strongest Kuati noble house involved."

"The Judiciary has barred us from any further involvement with the investigation, Masters," Adi Gallia admitted. "They say it's because a conflict of interest, but I got hints at more political motives from the functionaries I met with. Whatever they might claim, it's because of extralegal pressure that they act as they do. Our closest affiliates in the Senate are under scrutiny as well."

"Wrong about this, we went. Subtler we must be." The Grandmaster spoke up after a minute of deliberation. "Leave the Senate to its investigation, we will. Other avenues of our own, we'll pursue. To the Council of First Knowledge, I must speak."

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The assassin slid from shadow to shadow amid the black crystalline formations and barren grey rock of the wasteland as two red moons crossed the sky overhead in tandem. The weight of the world seemed heavier under their baleful influence, though the real culprit was the planet's size. Vanqor was the largest planet in the Uziel system - the largest inhabited world in the whole sector in fact - though the nature of its inhabitants made it a less than a pleasant destination. Meteoric impacts millions of years before had turned most of the planet's surface into the wasteland it was now and in the wake of that disaster, a race of monstrous bat-like beasts that could easily kill a man and grow powerful enough to threaten even Jedi had evolved. Unfortunately, the assassin was not sneaking around the nests of the infamous gundarks at the moment. No, she was heading towards the towns of the far more dangerous humans.

With the stolen Lucrehulk from the Outbound Flight debacle safely hidden in the Hoth system, her employer had sent her to the almost as well hidden shadow port and prison colony on this planet as an acknowledgment of a simple truth: no matter how good a mercenary, assassin, and Jedi hunter Aurra Sing might be, keeping up with the younger Andrim heiresses' demands was beyond her capabilities. But with her and the old captain's contacts in the galactic underworld and sufficient foresight and Force guidance, there were opportunities to take advantage of.

Quiet as the shadows she blended in, she largely ignored the locals milling about the town carved out of their rocks in their heavy grey cloaks. They were as heavily armed and skilled as they were untrustworthy, and thus not up to the Old Man's standards. Another tug from the Force, stronger than most she'd felt in the past, led her towards the local bar. A dome of solid rock with a single narrow entrance, the camouflaged pub was not a place she could sneak into even by becoming invisible; the bouncer was physically blocking the door after all. Another tug from the Force, reassuring this time. Taking the hint, she reached for the enormous, grey-skinned, heavily-armored male's emotions and thoughts. Finding no threat there, she came out of the shadows, paid the entrance fee, and simply walked through the front door.

The pub's interior was hardly any brighter than the night outside and far quieter than most such places she'd visited, but it was packed. Over a hundred cloaked and hooded patrons, all of them heavily armed and most with the appearance of seriously tough customers, were drinking in silence. Either the drinks were absolutely fantastic, or they'd been laced with seriously strong drugs; the warning from the Force convinced Aurra not to try and confirm which. Over the past few years of training and being dropped into insane situations by a merchant princess had honed her danger sense to a razor's edge, but only in the past few months it had become reliable enough to use in missions. Obviously, the treatments mad Doctor Magrody had invented worked; Aurra just waited for the other shoe to drop. It always did with the mad scientist types.

Sighing, she let that be a worry for another day and approached the one pair of beings that did not fit in the pub in a very obvious way. The droid with the purple chassis, heavy plating, and sinister gleaming red photoreceptors took her in from head to toes as she took a seat at their table uninvited. The striking redhead in the white and pale green explorer's outfit and cape did not react at all beyond a single interested glance.

"It took quite a long time to locate the two of you," she told them without preamble. "Long enough given my employer's resources that he was beginning to think you did not want to be found. Tracking you down to the same shadow-port, working together? Let's just say you defied certain expectations."

"We do not care about such difficulties," the intimidatingly tall droid countered with a shrug. "We do care about those with enough resources to track us down despite them."

"Then you have learned your lesson," Aurra carefully replied, looking at the human woman as she placed a small but highly secure metal case on top of their shared table.

"What lesson would that be?" the woman demanded with narrow eyes as her droid companion scanned the case itself for explosives and other threats.

"That you must not depend on the galaxy to recognize greatness," Aurra quoted, opening the case to reveal tightly packed, high-value credit chips. "Although sometimes benefactors will see value in your skills, miss Zan Arbor, so you won't have to raise yourselves the funds you need." The redhead just stood there for a few moments, looking at things only she could see. Then...

"A curious part of my research to be interested in. Who sent you?"

"Nasdra Magrody recommended you, though he was not the only one." Aurra said, then frowned at the drink the blank-eyed waiter had brought without her asking. "I assume the mind-altering addition to the drinks is your doing?"

"Guilty as charged. Don't tell me you're worried about the local wildlife?" She picked up one of the credit chips, noting the thousand-credit, non-Republican denomination with interest. "Magrody certainly wouldn't have."

"No, I'm more worried about spreading around an engineered plague before dying horribly," Aurra snarked back before turning to the droid. "How about you, Ay-Dee? Or do you prefer AD-W4?"

"I don't care about the locals. Or engineered plagues. I don't care who is right or who is wrong. I only care that there is conflict brewing so that my services are needed and I can be paid for them. Conscience does not drive my decision-making." The droid mercenary picked up one of the credit chips theatrically as well. "Only credits."