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29 BBY

Fay did not truly remember her parents.

"You called for me, mas - " Blood red curves of pain slammed those shining vectors out of alignment.

Never before had it felt like a flaw.

There was a whisper of a heel turning on polished stone and without another word her gift from the Force itself fled the room.

The familiar young pulsar that had just entered froze in place, shedding wild sparks of alarm. "Uh." A young boy's voice, cracking in the throes of early puberty. "Sorry masters?" He inched back towards the doors. "We'll…be back? I think?"

Then he escaped as well.

Fay dug the grains of hurt out from where they had lodged themselves. They were rooted in entitlement. Had she truly thought she could just show up and have her presence alone demand affection?

"I deserved that," she admitted quietly as she slumped over the table, idly pushing her cup of swamp tea away. She was late. She had known that she would be, but never thought to ask by how much. That was not the pure, brilliant warm presence of the child she knew.

The light of that spinning machination burned cold.

It reminded her of Ilum. Like that of a lost child facing their own weakness; the anger and fear within themselves with only the reflections cast off unfeeling ice all around for company. Like that of the traditional warning given to every initiate on the Gathering for their first kyber since the ice world had been under the purview of the Jedi Order:

If you fail, you freeze.

She had not thought much of that warning. Being reminded of it now, she thought much less of it. "How… old is she?"

My daughter grew up here, she realized all over again.

The temple was a blur to her. The Force could not be fooled as easily as eyes could and over the years as she relied on it more and more, other senses changed or atrophied from disuse.

Would it look the same as it did in her youth?

Did she remember what that even looked like?

Her Force-sight, unless she focused, was not great at picking up on physical details. Instead, there were echoes. The concentration of an architect shaped swirling patterns on the high walls, the mischief of younglings shaded in the corners, the furtive intimacy of a couple happy to be home held up the walls, the grief of a long faded bloody handprint hardened into a cold stone floor. None of whom she recognized, but she did not mind.

Psychometry was a force gift Xī had that allowed one to relive imprinted memories through touch.

Fay was guided by the impressions of living.

Master Yoda's swollen roots offered strength she did not need, but thanked him for. His proudly blossoming swamp flowers on a majestic deeply rooted tree was greatly at odds with what she knew was a diminutive physical presence.

Master Windu's shattered facets glimmered darkly with unease that was more for her daughter than herself. They also glinted with the pity for them both that he was a second too late to hide.

"Knight Xhee turned nineteen standard three months ago," he told her.

She missed fourteen years then.

Longer than she had thought.

Far longer.

This. This is why you gave her up. She sighed despondently.

"Raised her, you could not have," came the craggly voice and agitated tap of a gimer stick against the floor. "Safe, for either of you, it would not have been."

Her daughter got further and further away with no sign of slowing down, no intention of stopping. The pulsar chased, flaring concern and confusion.

She was not interested in Yoda's admonishments about attachment right now. "I should have tried."

She should never have left her. The Diath clan would have been willing to help. They had generational experience in raising Force sensitives. Had she been willing to consider any other tradition outside of the Jedi, she could have found a community. Among Miraluka on Alpheridies or Koruunai on Haruun Kal where everyone had some measure of Sensitivity. Who could have stepped in when she faltered, blunted her mistakes.

Or perhaps Xī would have grown to truly despise her instead.

"You might have hurt her," Windu echoed her own fears with a gentleness that did not come easily to him. Not with his edges forged in rage as they had been. "Make a mistake you cannot take back."

She already has.

Fay took a moment to breathe, tracking down the worms of self-loathing before they dug too deeply. She changed the subject. "And the boy with her? A padawan?"

So soon? Her heart protested and she quieted it. She picked out one of Yoda's cookies by feel as a distraction and regretted it immediately. What in the - was that a frog leg? Who would -

She put the cookie down.

Yoda's greatly amused self received a hard poke in the Force.

"Padawan Skywalker," Master Windu said heavily, his robes rustling as he leaned back in his low chair. "Was a late addition to the Order, admitted at nine years of age."

"That is hardly unprecedented." She felt the need to defend against her fellow Jedi's misgivings. The Reformation was…was. She was not fond of it. "I, myself, did not become part of the Order until I was twelve."

"Claimed by Jedi Lord Mindor, you were."

"On flimsi just to get around the new restrictions set by the Reformation." Her tone was as dry as the sands of Jakku. The High Council had the choice between the former Jedi Lord vanishing with her into the Outer Rim or fraud and everyone knew it. "I was not trained until then, not truly."

"Taught to hide, you were. Taught control, you were," Yoda countered evenly, a mild disgruntlement released into the Force like morning dew over dark green leaves. "Feared the Sith, your master did. Mistrusted the High Council with another prodigy, they did."

"For good reason," she said quietly.

Skere Kaan had been theirs, a rising star with the rare, prized talent of Battle Meditation. Hastily promoted to become the face of the Jedi Order in an attempt to claw back relevance from the Grand Council. Only for Kaan to not only abandon them, but go on to rally the fracturing Sith Empire under his banner as a Brotherhood of Darkness. So no, she would not say their plans had turned out particularly well.

They had not learned their lesson. She had seen the contemplative looks, heard the thoughtful comments and saw through the calculating praise as the Order debated how to buffer the Republic's war weary distrust.

She had wanted none of it.

The only thing that could have made her stay was a calling to teach. And by all Nine Sith Hells was she glad that had not happened!

"Hmm," Yoda hummed, shuffling about on his chair as his canopy wilted ever so slightly. "Shared their misgivings, you do. Share their misgivings still, you do."

She picked out another cookie under Windu's horrified fascination. Swamp moss this time. That combination of methane and sulphur was…distinctive. She coughed and took a sip of Yoda's equally interesting tea. "If I had chosen to give her to the Order at the same age I had been, would you have accepted her?"

For a long moment, neither Jedi said anything. A heavy feeling curled Yoda's branches inwards and dulled Windu's gleaming facets. They might have looked at each other, it was difficult to tell.

"Where else?" Yoda eventually murmured. "Would the Chosen One be?"

"Anywhere else," she said just as quietly. "Jedha has the history. Have you so disavowed the Green Jedi of Corellia? Are we wandering Jedi less Jedi for not calling Coruscant home?"

She chose Coruscant because she had hoped.

A thousand years since she made the decision to leave and the mistakes were still the same.

"The Force - "

"Had nothing to do with it," Fay intercepted Master Windu before he could voice what she knew to be ignorance. "The choice was left entirely to me, although there were times I certainly preferred otherwise."

She was no stranger to discomfort.

However, traveling the galaxy in cramped, dirty, cold and shaking transports while heavily pregnant had been a novel form of hell. All birth mothers forever had her sympathy. She could be glad for the experience and never want to repeat it.

"Can you not see how flawed your reasoning is? Making exceptions based on what the child offers you. A cost-benefit analysis of worth."

Her daughter's presence was cold.

The Chosen One.

She had a feeling she knew why.

"I could feel that boy as soon as I entered the system," Fay pointed out. "Tell me honestly that you did not admit him solely for that."

Master Windu's subtle mix of frustration, resignation and guilt said much.

Yoda hummed low and long, perfectly at ease. "Will of the Force, it was. Meant to find him, your daughter was. Formed a bond upon meeting, they did."

Fay paused.

"...a spontaneous Force bond." She echoed skeptically.

She shifted to look at the pulsar again, brighter than the other lights around him save for Xī's shining presence.

Too bright.

How did anyone miss him?

She opened her connection to the Force just a little more, letting in details. And…yes, she could see it, the way he stretched in his master's direction like a star too close to a black hole, leaving trails shining like a nebula between them. She could also see the way Xī's swirling vectors took that errant starlight, spinning them into place like thread on a loom. Dread swirled in her stomach at the effortlessness of it, hoping Xī did not notice, that it was not on purpose. The boy had power to give, but nothing would truly stop his master from devouring him whole.

That was not the bond of a Force-granted padawan.

Concern/wariness/surprise buffeted her from her fellow Jedi and…she had stood without realizing it.

"I - my apologies, masters -"

It wasn't a whisper. The Force never spoke to her. Nothing so solid as a tug, for the Force never moved her. It never touched her with anything as ephemeral as a feeling.

The universe simply realigned.

A new pattern emerged from the expanse and she stepped neatly into place.

One moment she was with Masters Windu and Yoda in one of the temple's meeting rooms. The next, her nose was assaulted by a variety of delicious smells, from sweet, to spicy to savory, a few dozen hungry presences lighting up the space around her.

A refectory.

On the same planet?

In the same building! She gently shared her bemusement and gratitude with the Force for her new placement.

It had brought her straight to their little girl.

The absolute crush of unique presences surrounding her told her that it was midmeal. A communal room, past and present blending together and all of them so bright in the Force the way all trained Sensitives were. Sentients who laughed and loved and grieved and feared and believed. She could not help but to bask in the beautiful shapes of their souls, in the wonderful sounds and colors of their consciousness. The echoes of laughter, comradery, comfort and forged friendships mixed harmoniously with the scattered occasions of bullying, tense arguments, exhaustion and heartbreak. All of it, precious.

At one of the counters, Xī's distinctive presence was spread out, levitating a small number of trays of food. She overheard her young student excitedly point out a new dish he wanted to try. Roasted giant beetles from the desert world of Er'Kit, apparently, which are…incredibly poisonous for baseline humans, if she recalls correctly. A Jedi of lovely flowering tresses coughed loudly, muttering a quick "Warning labels" under their breath. A moment later, the boy suggested a different new dish he wanted to try, grubs from Shili this time, radiating embarrassment.

Xī laughed at him, relaxed and happy. It was a feedback loop that lit up between them, bright and warm as they basked in each other's emotions, passing the humor back and forth in the bond until it blurred. Belonging to both and neither as if they were one being in the Force. Innocent, for now.

She…had no wish to ruin their joy.

Instead she stood with a cool wall at her back and her presence tightly wrapped around her, encouraging the rest of the world to pass her by. Her girl had friends. A fiery Jedi Knight - perhaps a senior padawan with that wild presence - with her loud coarse laugh. A cool and tightly controlled whirlpool still so easily exasperated by her friends. A fascinating juxtaposition of enduring desert sands and ringing Mandalorian iron who had pulled an ill-advised all nighter with a bond!

An old and tattered training one. Severed at a knighting ceremony and was rebuilding itself one thread at a time.

Xī was not ready to let her former master go and of course, the Force obliged.

You spoil her, she thought fondly.

There was no response. There didn't need to be one.

She watched the small group serve themselves midmeal. The whirlpool stopped the fire from putting something she was allergic to on her plate. The Mandalorian stuffed teablocks into his robes to the gentle ribbing of his compatriots. Xī and her padawan took playful suggestions from everyone around them as she levitated her friend's choices in the air with ease.

The display was regarded with awe and discomfort in equal measure. Prickles of envy, others of pride. A bubbling sphere nearby is compressing in disapproval, on the verge of speaking out -

"Is that the example you want to be setting for your padawan?"

Said padawan swelled with indignation, solar flares of anger leaking out. A distant, impersonal disdain colors her daughter's swirling vectors with negative momentum.

"Oh dear," Fay murmured quietly as she glided closer.

"Knight Rota." Xī acknowledged the bubbling sphere mildly. "You can naturally feel the emotions of sentients around you without the Force, right? Don't you think that's a little unfair?"

Incredulity.

"I'm a Zeltron." Idiot, goes unsaid.

"Don't do it, Xhee," the fiery Jedi said, pulsing in resigned amusement.

"I am being discriminated against, Sian," Xī shoots back.

"You can't shout discrimination every time someone gets on your ass for frivo - "

"Frivolous use of the Force? I am using half of what I am literally made of to pick something up," Xī continues evenly with spite dancing in her presence. "Instead of using the other half of what I'm made of. Or did we all forget that the Force karked me into my mother?"

That was her cue.

"That is - !" She barked loudly and watched her daughter, the padawan and a half a dozen scandalized eavesdroppers all jump, a few swearing as they nearly tossed their food into the air. "Actually what happened," she finished brightly. "I will happily confirm it. I was there."

Disbelief and amusement bloomed from dozens of Jedi.

"Wha - Master Fay!"

"Do not get me wrong," she told her audience with a brilliant smile. "You will not see me complaining."

"...really?" Fire asked, morbidly curious.

Fay waved a hand in the air and shamelessly admitted, "I passed out."

The reactions were worth it.

Amid the bright swirls of amusement, scandalized surprise and exasperation, bubbling sphere steamed in a worrying amount of anger and humiliation before flouncing off in a huff, but she only had eyes for how Xī's vectors spun out in pain and shock.

Then the entire mechanism lit up with glee.

Oh, she could cry.

Her hands twitched from an aborted hug. She found out the hard way that psychometry did not react well to the weight of her echoes.

"Exactly!" Xī exclaimed as a nauseous mushroom master hunched over his food as if to protect it from the conversation and bid a hasty retreat. "If it can do that, I don't think there is anything that can be called frivolous. Inappropriate, most definitely."

A windy Jedi elder snorted as they skirted around their little group. Fay sighed good-naturedly.

"They don't like really thinking about me being half-Force," Xī told her padawan in a whisper that was absolutely not quiet and …she did not like that use of they. "Anakin." Xī choked down the frisson of apprehension. "This is my mother, Jedi Master Fay. Fay, my second padawan learner, Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine."

He was a brilliant star strong in the Living Force, as she herself was. His emotions were vibrant and pure, despite the shadows of anger and fear from a hard life that lingered like sunspots.

Tatooine.

How had they missed him?

"Hello, master!" The boy chirped, humiliation drifting off him as his voice breaks. Not directed at her, but at - ah. Well. Every padawan goes through an 'attachment to their master' phase. Force knows she had, but their close ages would be a little tricky, wouldn't it? And - Sithspit, the bond. "It is an honor to meet you."

Fay hid her worries with a gentle smile. "It is my pleasure to meet you as well, young one."

"And this idiot here - " The fiery Jedi barked a laugh as the Mandalorian sighed. "Was my first padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi of Stewjon."

Ah.

The training bond had gone the other way around.

…there was a story about how a nineteen year old Knight already had two padawans, one of whom older than her, she was sure.

"I see my first master, Qui-Gon Jinn was not mistaken when he described you as beautiful and ageless," Obi-Wan said smoothly and she was sure an equally charming smile went with it. "It is my absolute plea - I'm sorry, is that a Marat'Hog wedding band?"

"Yes!" Fay beamed and brushed some of her hair behind her ear to show it off, unreasonably happy someone noticed. "Let me guess, a consular knight?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan expertly lied, sounding bashful. And wasn't that interesting.

"Neeeerrrd," Anakin whispered.

"The next time I find you with engine grease on your nose, you will regret that." Obi-Wan casually threatened. "How did you manage to be gifted one, if I may ask, master? I understand them to be quite rare."

"By getting married, of course," Fay tutted. "They were happy to arrange the ceremony when I married Xī's father."

Silence.

Then Fire snickered.

Whirlpool reluctantly spoke up, "...the Force?"

"You can do that?" Anakin marveled.

"It was Knol's idea," she admitted easily with a helpless shrug. "If it was going to go around getting kids on people, the least it could do is make an honest woman out of them. Her words," she said, projecting her amusement. "Not mine."

"You still did it," Xī said, clearly unsure of what to feel about it.

"Of course I did." Fay made sure to blink guilelessly in her daughter's direction. "She was right."

Fire lit up with hilarity, her loud laugh echoing in the hall and attracting attention. Whirlpool and Obi-Wan despaired with varying degrees of resignation, amusement and exasperation.

"It's inherited," Obi-Wan gasped theatrically, making Anakin giggle. "Xhee, I withdraw all my complaints as you cannot help it."

"Yes, the resemblance is undeniable," Whirlpool deadpanned. "Remind her the next time she tries to blame the Force."

"It could still be the Force!" Xī's presence flushed with mortification. "Shut up, Serifa!"

Fay was delighted. Such good friends! "May I join you for midmeal?"

"Yes!" Fire said immediately over Xī's near reflexive denial. "No, you shut up, your mom's a hoot! Knight Sian Jeisel, master. Stay forever."

Fay laughed while her heart broke in two.

She wished she could.

She cherished every moment while it lasted, of course. It turned out that her prickly girl had not made friends so much as those friends had made her, taking advantage of her bafflement to unite under the shared purpose of keeping her ego in check. Sian Jeisel was a Devaronian knight who came for the chaos and knew how well fire burned when one wasn't careful. Serifa Altunen, a pure blood Arkanian senior padawan determined to be a good example for a hybrid of her race, no matter how much Xī protested needing one. They were all too happy to share the details of her daughter's life that she had...missed.

"Ki-Adi Mundi, I know that - ah, Jon's padawan broth - wait, she was a Council padawan?"

"...wow, my own mother had zero faith in me."

"I had faith in you being at least half of the headache I was," Fay admitted sheepishly.

"I believe it was his possession of a binary brain, master. That allowed him to keep up with - "

"Her wild gundark shit."

"That is very rude of you, Sian." Serifa sniffed. "Not wrong, but rude."

"Hey!"

Obi-Wan was a grown version of the youngling her girl refused to let out of her sight when she was four -

"You saw that? "

"He was important! Stop making it sound weird!"

"What - Xhee, it was weird! Everyone thought you were going to be his padawan, but you couldn't even do that right!"

"Sian, I swear on all the small gods of Alderaan - !"

"Can we return to the part where your mother noticed and let you keep stalking me?"

"I can't be held accountable for anything I did when I was four."

"It was adorable!" Fay defended herself weakly.

She wished them all the best of luck.

The only ones missing were Skywalker's friends, another Jedi from Tatooine on his first mission as a knight, A'Sharad Hett and Aayla Secura, Force-granted padawan of Obi-Wan's friend Quinlan Vos. Another psychometric in the Temple bled more of her worries away.

She could only imagine the liveliness of them all on Coruscant at once.

It was also reassuring.

However it happened, she had friends.

Fellow Jedi who were able to ask her to check her shielding, because her focus hurts without resentment or fear. Who understood her wild sense of humor. Who created openings in the conversations for her when she lost track of their cadence.

Who took turns pulling her back from drifting.

It…hurt to see that had not changed since she left.

Since she gave up.

The Cosmic Force was not kind. And so, neither was its daughter.

No Jedi wished to consider what it truly meant to say that there is no Death; there is the Force. Why mourn it, why avoid it, when it was only a shedding of crude matter, a joyous return to the wellspring of the universe?

And if death wasn't real, then murder was not real either…then life was not real.

All three of Xī's friends demanded her attention, daring her to dismiss them as transient illusions as Anakin petulantly yanked on their bond. They all ignored the needles of disapproval and disappointment aimed at them from surrounding knights and masters. At times rebuffing a particularly unsubtle Jedi in the Force before she could.

She was not sure Xī even noticed.

"They tried to make you a savior," Fay noted quietly. The prophecy of the Chosen One was one of bringing balance to the Force. That was all. "Didn't they?"

"Little late for you to care," Xī retorted just as quietly.

"Is it?" Fay asked. "Too late?"

She didn't get an answer then.

It came afterwards.

Knight Kenobi left to catch up on much needed sleep. Knight Jeisel wished to do more research on her upcoming mission and Padawan Altunen's Changrian master came to retrieve their student. After all goodbyes had been said, Xī passed her floating bounty of ingredients for latemeal over to the much shakier control of her padawan.

"Think you can make it back to the rooms without dropping anything?"

Determination swirled in his core. "I can do it!"

"Remember how the moving meditation from today felt," his master gently advised him, projecting complete faith in his abilities. "And don't rush. Take as long as you need, alright? And… it'll be easier if you imagine one construct with arms than each being held separately."

"Oh," Anakin said, adjusting his hold. "I thought it was like…padwib ee ba?"

Her daughter let slip a rhombus of consternation. "I think Hutts are the only species who don't believe 'overthinking' is a thing."

"Bothans," Fay said.

Xī silently tapped Fay's shoulder to concede the point. "Off you go then."

"Bye, Master Fay!" The boy called back as he started down the hall with their containers of food trailing him.

She softly lobbed her own farewell into his orbit.

As soon as her padawan was out of earshot, Xī's presence darkened like a sun passing behind clouds. An ache settled in Fay's throat. She was not forgiven, Xī had simply chosen not to make a scene.

"Why are you here?"

Fay bit her lip. "I wanted to see you."

"When you want to see me." Xī scoffed. "Well, you've seen me."

"I…was under the impression that you didn't want…" She sighed mournfully, hesitantly projecting her regret/lonely/love towards her daughter. "Didn't want anything to do with me."

And I couldn't not try, she kept to herself.

She was just…late.

"I didn't want anything to do with you. For a while." There was a sharp rustling sound, crossed arms? Xī's presence collapsed inwards like an inverting dodecahedron with shame and anger. "Believe me, surprised me too."

"What did I do?" Fay blurted out, spurred by the spark of hope igniting. Xī had wanted her back. "I never - I could never figure out which of my mistakes - why was I never enough?"

She presented everything for inspection. Her sincerity, her resolve, her hope and determination. Her fear. The maggot of dread had been given life nearly twenty years ago when she first realized that she was going to be a mother. It had only fermented since, because she refused to cleanse it.

A parent should fear failing their children. That was the one thing about motherhood she was certain of.

Her honesty was rewarded.

Xī reached out.

And gently took Fay's hand in her own uncovered hands.

"No! What are you - " Sealing herself away was a near-reflex, slamming down her shields in a vain attempt to blunt the worst of the psychic shock -

That did not come.

"What?" Fay murmured numbly, fingers curling tightly around her girl's warm hand.

Xī clicked her tongue spitefully. "I'm not psychometric."

Something in Fay went cold. "You - you have to be. Those memories - "

"Were mine." Xī spat, yanking her hand away as blood red hypotenuses of pain she was no longer hiding lanced through those swirling vectors, sending the pattern awry in ugly shapes. "You didn't know what you were taking from me, so you didn't get it all. I still dreamed I was her for years."

"That doesn't make sense." She - she could only shake her head, hands trembling as she stepped back as if - as if what? "She - you were…having visions of a different person entirely. They were causing absence seizures, you were only one year old."

"I was one," Xī agreed, anger dripping like oil. "Which meant I couldn't explain what was wrong and you assumed you already knew. So all I could do was scream."

Fay's blood froze.

Infantile amnesia, the temple healers had assured her. It was a large part of the reason why standard admission ages had been set at below four. Highly Force Sensitive children often had traumatic gifts. There had been several in the creche who struggled with visions as well. As long as they were brought under control soon enough, it should not affect their connection to the Force.

Rarely, the process had to be…helped.

"...you shouldn't remember that," she whispered.

"Well, I do and now nothing feels real," Xī snarled, cold and burning. "The Force keeps giving it back to me in pieces and I can't remember the other parts so I don't - " Her voice broke, brimming with tears of sheer frustration. "I don't…I can't."

Fay couldn't breathe. "Xī - I -"

"We're all going to die." Her daughter said listlessly. "Even the younglings. I've known for as long as I can remember. I don't know who or what. Can't even remember why. So I - you all wanted me to karking care you even exist in the first place, so congratulations! I get to constantly be reminded of how much I'm going to fail everyone."

Her mouth opened, but nothing could squeeze past the lump in her throat.

"I'm not - I'm not the Chosen One." It was said almost gently. "I'm the - " Xī swallowed thickly. "I'm the leftovers. You already failed her. She's - she's gone."

The darkness of true hate was hiding underneath the pain.

"I felt you kill me."

Fay wakes up suddenly, gasping for breath. The itching of tears crawls down her cheeks. She lays there, listening to a gentle wind blow through the scraggly trees of Ord Radama. The storm had passed, leaving the fresh scent of rain tinged with the pollution of the nearby city behind.

Did my parents hug me? Came the idle thought as she cradled her own hands. Had they been the type to fuss over childhood injuries? Did they enjoy her questions or did they seek the first excuse to send her away? She doesn't know. Time had worn it all down to shapes and shadows. Not their faces, not their voices and in her mother's case, not even a name remained. Just vague impressions in the Force, opaque from lack of training.

Xī must look like her grandfather, if her Arkanian heritage was obvious. White eyes with no pupils and gold skin. Fay looked more like her mother, she recalled that much. She preferred the neat story of illegitimacy to one of commissioned genetic tampering, but she truly no longer remembered which one it was. Perhaps her noble father had sired her on the near-human nanny that raised his other children. She had siblings once, even if she no longer recalled how many. At least one older brother sounds right. She had left her House name behind, so her wanderings would bring them no harm. Returning to it would have strangled her, but she had a House name. She must have been valued.

She had loved them, she thinks.

'I felt you kill me.'

As much as she adored her master, she knew with the gift of hindsight that the man needed a mind healer, not an apprentice. He had tried so hard, but she half-raised herself. He indulged her wish to neglect lightsaber training after she passed the basic test with the soul-crushing relief of a traumatic stress disorder. She doesn't like to consider how much of her distaste for the weapon came from fear.

Of becoming like him.

He taught her to survive.

All else came at a distant second.

She could see now that she had followed his example.

The darkening of her daughter's connection to the Force - she had panicked. Her own hypocrisy berated Jedi masters for their assumptions. She took more than Xī's choices from her trying to preserve her worth as a Jedi, when she should have set it all aside for her needs as a child.

If she had remembered her parents, would it have changed anything?

'I felt you kill me.'

She breathes in air perpetually heavy with water and breathes out the guilt for running straight back to the Outer Rim. She doesn't feel like moving, or going back to sleep or living.

She must.

Forcing herself to get up feels no different this time than it has at any time before. Several hundred years was long enough to form strong habits. She allows herself to resent that a little, before she washes it away. She steps out from her cave to see Master Knol Venari is tending her old fire, bolstering it against the damp of the wetlands with the Force. She shares the pang of guilty gratitude with her spouse, so utterly in love it almost hurts.

It had known she needed someone.

Knol shuffles awkwardly. "Don't know why I'm here, but, uh, shaavit. Force yanked me here, you know the drill." Where Sian Jeisel was fire, as hungry as it was giving, Knol Venari is a flow of lava. Steady and sure in her path and no less devastating for those who crossed it. "Bad dreams?"

Fay sighs deeply as she sits down against the stump of a tree. "My daughter hates me."

"Yeah, that is why I don't bother with kids," Knol grunts. There is a sound of metal on metal in a swirling ring, a spoon against a pan. "She's like what - seventeen, eighteen?"

Her throat tickles. "Nineteen."

Someone she has only seen three times in the past twenty years kept up with her daughter's age better than she herself had. She wouldn't have even known if she hadn't - she had to - she had to ask!

She had to -

"They hate everything at that age," the Bothan Jedi shrugs off. "They'd hate the sun for rising if it got on their bad side. They're all melodramatic twats."

The back of her head thumps against the damp wood as her eyes burn. "She's hated me since she was a year old."

"What - allllriiiight." Knol has mastered the art of giving a truly bombastic side eye with her volcanic presence alone. "So your sprog is apparently more dramatic than most."

'I felt you kill me.'

"Which scans, honestly, you don't do anything by halves."

Fay hums as her belly twists itself into knots. That used to amuse her.

Nothing by halves.

'I felt you kill me.'

Not even her mistakes.

"Padawan Skywalker, wasn't it? I hope you will forgive me for monopolizing your master's time like this. I know society functions aren't the most thrilling of outings for young ones like yourself."

"Uh, yes Your Excellency, but you can - you don't have to...pretend. With me, I mean."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're Xhee's friend, right? Her friends - I mean, she doesn't make friends with...she's not friends with harmless people."

"...and that doesn't bother you at all, does it, boy?"

"No, sir. It's...it's Xhee, you know?"

"Yes, I do see what you mean. You'd follow your master anywhere, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, sir. Anywhere."

22 BBY

"I'm a simple man." The bounty hunter sneers at him from across the table.

The Mandalorian looked like a Tatooine moisture farmer. Skin dark enough that he probably won't burn immediately, dark hair cut short enough that a quick swipe of fingers would rid it of most of the sand with nicks and scars of hard living. He's in just his undersuit and boots, looking smaller without the armor. Which is in a security box by the door so he knows they didn't just take it, but there had been a backup blaster, repulsor, wrist launcher for more poison loaded saberdarts and a flamethrower in his vambraces alone.

Then they found mini-missiles in his knee pads.

No one is allowed to get snippy that they got stripped of their gear after that.

"A simple man," Anakin echoes.

Jango Fett shrugs. "Just trying to make my way in the galaxy."

The interrogation room is a small, cramped space of durasteel walls. The table took up most of the room, a diamond shape with blunt corners and the legs set on the points to discourage use as a weapon. Cameras were in every corner of the room and above the door and the clicking of the struggling air filter system (he had just fixed that last tenday!) covered the muffled sound of footsteps in the hall. The datapad makes a soft noise as Anakin flicks through the screens. Bani ha, those budget increases couldn't come through fast enough.

This chair is already making his ass numb. "And by 'making your way' you mean partnering with Zam Wessel in order to assassinate a senator on Coruscant for credits."

This isn't even the first time!

Staring at him from his datapad is a Coruscant Security Force report from ten years ago about this same Mando. Making a mess from the Uscru Entertainment District to level 2654 of the undercity, then back up to the Republica 500, ending in Ryloth's former Senator Connus Trella's murder by throwing him off his balcony.

CSF had the audacity to tell Fett to 'put the senator down' while he had been dangling the twi'lek off it.

Anakin rubs the bridge of his nose. "And then covering up the involvement of your employer by attempting to silence Wessel for cooperating with law enforcement."

"Wayii, so many accusations, Master Jedi." There is a smirk that does nothing to cover up the nauseating burnt stench of hate and he just - "But where is your proof?"

Kind of wants to shove Fett's broad nose back into his face.

Anakin takes a subtle breath and exhales it quietly. "...and your reasons for interfering in an ongoing arrest?"

The smirk widens. "Perhaps I was hired by a third party to eliminate threats to the senator."

Right. Sure.

"And the identity of this alleged third party?"

"Perhaps they didn't want to be known and I am a professional." The man shrugs both shoulders, holding his cuffed hands out like he's beseeching a higher power. "No bounty puck either. It's a dangerous galaxy out there, jetii. Can't trust just anyone with a politician's security."

"Uh huh."

Jango Fett, Anakin decides, has a very punchable face.

"And Wessel has no idea who you are or what you're doing on Coruscant, of course."

Fett's smirk shrinks. "She might know me. There are few in the business who don't. We might have partnered on jobs before." But there is a twist to his presence, sour like guilt or shame underneath the rage and hatred, before he softly admits, "Knowing the person at the other end of the blaster can't change anything. You understand."

That's karking shahnit sleemo behavior is what he understands.

But if he punches the smug kriffer, Xhee will get mad at him because it would be recorded.

"Fett, you do realize that unless you have an employer you will name, you - " He points a finger at the man's face. "Are still liable for interfering with an arrest, obstructing a criminal investigation, attempted first-degree murder of a suspect in Jedi custody and assault of one of said Jedi."

That last one makes Fett go still in his chair. "Assault."

He gives Fett the smarmiest smile in his collection. "Not a scratch on her," he says mildly. "And attempted murder apparently requires the perp to actually be capable of killing them."

A muscle jumps out on Fett's jaw as he grinds his teeth.

Anakin is also mad about that, but not for the same reason. It always comes back to Naboo and that kriffing droid control ship.

He waits a bit so see if Fett's caustic hatehatehate will spill over. It doesn't. "And if Wessel has a different story…" he continues leadingly. "The list just gets longer, doesn't it?"

Which would be in the morning at the earliest. Wessel passed the kark out enroute.

Which was annoying.

If she hadn't tried to shoot him, she wouldn't have lost a hand.

Fett flicks his gaze away as if in dismissal. "She won't."

That certainty is interesting.

There is a knock on the door behind him as he files that away. He turns in his unreasonably uncomfortable chair, wincing as the stiff stick masquerading as an armrest jabs his ribs. A familiar green weequay sticks his head in. "Yeah, Korko?"

"Uh," Kork's nasally high pitched voice started, then stopped, antenna's wiggling. "Sky you've - you got a second Mando whose...not taking no for an answe - eep!"

A gloved hand reaches over Korko's head and like the dramatic koochu he is, flings the door open.

Fett's surprise is sharp.

Filling the doorway in green and brown beskar armor with his helmet held against his leg with one hand, Obi-Wan looks every inch a hardened Mandalorian warrior.

He didn't have a baby face anymore.

Hard to have that when some sleemo Darksider Zabrak tries to cut your face in half with a lightsaber when you finally catch up to him.

The faded burn scar splashed over his cheek bone gave the right side of Obi-Wan's face a stretched texture. The left was dominated by the deep puckered line. If Obi-Wan had been a hair too slow, he could have needed a lower face prosthetic. It cut from the corner of his lip and back, leaving a divot and cybernetic plate where the healers had to replace tendons connecting his jaws, then sacrificing the lower part of his ear.

And his beard.

Now he just always looks like he forgot to shave for three weeks. With hair he forgot to cut for three years tied back to fit under his helmet. The only thing neat about him is the braid hanging down by the dark scar arcing across his left temple holding several gold and beskar beads. He looks like he belongs in a seedy cantina in the undercity, one hand over a blaster while the other nurses a liver killing concoction, waiting for a new bounty to be posted.

It's a Jedi diplomat's composure that lets him sweep his eyes around the room and smoothly adjust his approach between one step and the next.

But that brief flare of recognition towards the other Mando was probably a bad sign.

"Jetii," Obi-Wan says flatly.

Korko meets his eyes from underneath Obi-Wan's armpit in resignation. The good ol' 'Good Mando, Evil Jedi' maneuver.

That one's a classic.

Obi-Wan's lip curls and the scar turns it mean. "Why do you have the Haat Mando'ade Mand'alor?"

They both ignore the way Fett's spike of pain, rage, hatehatehate bleeds all over the room.

"Mand'alor?" Anakin repeats blankly.

Kriff.

He knows that word. Or more accurately, that title.

"But, the Duchess - "

Fett scoffs out something bitter and cruel sounding as his dark eyes travel back and forth between them.

Obi-Wan shrugs a shoulder and smiles nastily, ignoring the pain in his own presence like it's not even there, like Anakin can't feel it. "After he went missing, there were few choices left."

Korko blanches pale green and quickly disappears behind Obi-Wan's back with fast footsteps fading down the hall to tell everybody how they got the missing Mando king arrested.

Tatooine was simpler.

It was hell, but it was a simple one.

Anakin wipes at his face with a hand. "Why was he involved in the assassination attempt of Naboo's senator?"

Obi-Wan's surprise is real as he turns towards Fett. "Me'ven?"

Fett's eyes dart up to Obi-Wan's hair gleaming red under the interview lights. A nail of pain digs into his presence again, this time mixed with grim realization and guilt.

"...Benin's ad?" Fett asks faintly, squinting from under dark eyebrows like it would help him dig the memory out from where it was jabbing him in the back of the brain. His gaze travels from the clan sigil on one green and brown pauldron to Obi-Wan's lightsaber scar and his realization settles. "Su'cuy gar. They didn't kill you."

Anakin gets a randomly poisonous look for some reason. Whatever it was, he didn't do it and if it's a Mando vs Jedi thing, most beings in this galaxy have karked over someone else at some point. Multiple times, probably.

It happens.

Obi-Wan's presence shivers with concern before Fett mutters something in Mando'a, almost too quiet to catch. Obi-Wan barks out a bitter sounding laugh. "Benau of Clan Tervho," he says, just as flatly as he had said jetii. "We thought you were dead."

He stares the man down with his expectant raised eyebrow. The one that said 'we both know you karked up and I'm just waiting for you to admit it.'

It's so different having it not aimed at him for once!

"House…" Obi-Wan says leadingly.

Fett looks away with his shoulders slumped, mumbling, "House Mereel."

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes at him. "Buir hasn't seen his vod in almost ten years," he says deceptively mildly. "Just regular credit deposits and a list of names. Foundlings we still haven't seen."

The pain in Fett twists - oddly. The Force nearly yanks his attention to it right as it just disappears, what the kriff was that? It didn't fade or get buried under another emotion. It was just gone.

Obi-Wan flares his Force presence in a familiar pattern. Jedi Shadow code.

Problem.

Then he nods like he hadn't noticed anything and switches to a blisteringly fast Mando'a Anakin doesn't even try to keep up with. He wanted to learn, but once it was explained that Mandos had a thing about outsiders knowing the language, he stopped pushing.

Tatooine stays with him. He understands.

Fett reacts with surprise first to whatever Obi-Wan is saying, and then a loud guilty, reluctant and pained relief as he responds with short, terse answers that sound like military command barks. Or that might just be the language.

Obi-Wan thumps his chest once with an armored fist after a short exchange.

When he turns back around, the 'negotiating face' is out.

Also known as the 'I'm about to do something karking stupid and I have very good reasons why you shouldn't stop me' face.

Obi-Wan takes a breath. "You can't hold him."

Anakin gapes.

"Excuse me?"

"We can't hold him," Fos says.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Anakin snaps back.

The headquarters of the Coruscant Security Force are dark and dingy, most of the space taken up by server banks and terminals as an overworked staff sifted through the detritus. With a trillion sentients in an ecumenopolis, finding anything among the sheer amount of data that blazed across the holonet pathways needed a work force of its own. Special Acquisitions had recently been gutted after the last anti-corruption pass which they deserved, the IST was more concerned with the Senate Library and Judicial had the other several hundred member systems to deal with.

It got a lot better under Palpatine, who actually seemed to give a damn, but improvements slowed to a crawl as negotiations with the Confederacy of Independent Systems started taking up everyone's brain space.

Right on cue, one of the back lights pops with a whine, going dark, and the whole room groans as one.

"I'll fix it!" Anakin yells, annoyed.

"Your master's Mando is right about the Senate." Officer Foskell smushes a large hand all over his face like he's trying to clean engine oil off. "Kryze has been making a real schutta of herself lately with this vote going on, they'll take anything they can get to make her shut up."

"By owning up to a mistake?" Anakin narrows his eyes skeptically. "The only way his title means anything is if they acknowledge that they sent Jedi after the wrong Mandos."

Reading that mission log had been a nightmare. Jedi hit squad sent after innocents at the request of a corrupt planetary governor working with Mando terrorists. Count Pain-in-the-Republic's-Arse had the bad draw to be the Jedi in charge of that kriffshow. And, like, he gets it. That mission was everything Xhee ever railed about regarding the Reformations in a koppo nut shell. But just leaving without even trying to change it from the inside couldn't be the answer. Dooku wasn't a Jedi anymore, he could have run for office like Palpatine did if he felt that strongly about it.

Fos raises both bushy brows at him as he leans back against his desk, crossing one foot over the other. "They'll find a way to blame the Jedi."

…yeah.

That scans.

He karking hates Coruscant.

"He wasn't made official official before, right?" Anakin tries next. "Just the leader of a mercenary company, not a king. He can't have any diplomatic immunity or rights on Coruscant."

"We have rights too," Fos grumbles. "The right to frippin' go to bed - " He raises his voice over Anakin's protests. "And not worry about getting jumped by frippin' bounty hunters on the way there. Tell me Coruscant's Mando diaspora won't crawl up all our asses about this skat."

He can't promise that.

Because Mandos have their persecution alarms on a monomolecular trigger and are always willing to bring their self-righteous cruisers down for a landing.

"And it is a senator who's the victim. That's free publicity." Fos tugs at his beard tiredly. "Either way someone is gonna ask about jurisdiction sooner, rather than later -"

"Because the Senate doesn't like Mandalore right now."

"Which will bring Senate Security into it," Fos agrees. "And if he goes into Senate Security - "

"We don't get poodoo anyway," Anakin finishes with a frustrated huff, clamping his left hand around the right's bracer. "Is there anything we can do?"

Fos looks at him. "Legally?"

Anakin grimaces, looking away. "So what? We pretend we never caught him?"

"You can," Fos says, nodding his beard in emphasis. "They're both still under 'Jedi Custody.' What's he going to do? Make mouth noises about cooling his heels for a few - "

"Come back in a couple of hours to finish the job on Wessel," Anakin says shortly. "Or inform his mysterious employer that we have her, and they send others to finish the job before she wakes up and spills the water."

He perks up a little.

Or maybe Xhee would arrange for Fett to have a perfectly deniable 'accident.'

A riot pivoting to violence at the drop of a credit chip. A getaway ship having a catastrophic engine failure he only senses right before it blows or the dangerous fauna Xhee took a second too late to calm. On their last mission, an exit tunnel collapsed on their corrupt official when she warned them masters, my priority was their victims, not where they step. A Mando managing to get himself into trouble he couldn't shoot his way out of wouldn't raise any eyebrows. It would be just another convenience in the rather long list, one that would neatly correspond to an obscure Force talent he's pretty sure the Council doesn't know Xhee learned.

She's never said anything and he's never asked.

"These people managed to bomb a senator's transport already."

"A Mid Rim one," Fos says.

Not in a bad way, just in a 'of course the Mid Rim senator has worse security than an Inner or Core senator would.' Not something you have to think about before it comes out of your mouth.

"Look, I can put some extra security on the Clawdite," Fos says gruffly. "It's got to be linked to the other attacks. I'm sure I can get some of Alderaan's special forces on it. We can trace those logs you pulled from her droid." He waves a hand. "See if there's any outstanding warrants on other Republic worlds. Hit up the manufacturer. We've impounded her ship, I've got some guys on the way with her effects from where she holed up a few levels below." Fos shifts his weight like the old time spacer clearing the way to the port with his fists he used to be and punches his shoulder lightly. It still stung. "It's not a loss, eh?"

He relaxes a bit at that.

"It's not a loss," he repeats. You can't save everyone. You can't do everything, so take what you can get and make sure it counts.

He makes sure to repeat that to himself.

Over and over.

And over as he watches Fett step out from the fresher, armor back on and smiling smugly. Korko nearly falls over himself giving apologies to 'king Mando,' sheepishly pointing out that the weapons they were able to take off him would be given back at the entrance.

"Good," Fett says with an abrupt nod. "We should do this again sometime, jetii."

"I'd rather not," Anakin seethes. "Since you're apparently worthless alive."

Obi-Wan says something snide that makes Fett bark a short laugh, before he's slamming his helmet on and sauntering out. His Padawan brother lingers for a bit, ruffling his hair - " Hey!" with a subtle tap to his ear piece.

"Ret'urcye mhi, jet'ika."

Anakin turns away in an exaggerated huff, hurriedly running a hand through his hair to push it back out of his eyes. As soon as the first security doors close, he's taking the call.

Obi-Wan wastes no time. "Someone shunted him."

"Galidraan?"Anakin wonders in a low murmur. "Can a shunt hold for that long?"

It was a version of the mind trick, the same way a battlecruiser was a version of a luxury yacht. If you want someone to not realize something, not remember something, not think a certain thing, then shunt 'em and be prepared to defend your decision to two separate Councils and be on probation for a year.

Minimum.

"Anyone interrupting their own arrest of Mandos to shunt is both an idiot and a lunatic," Obi-Wan says dryly, before darkly adding, "And likely on the verge of Falling, if they hadn't already."

Great.

Just one Darksider in a lifetime was more than enough.

"Any idea what was shunted?"

"My aunt is working with him on a long term contract, ten years." Ten years. Why is it - always ten years ago.

"The one that's gone off the grid."

"And any question about what she is doing or why is hitting it. He feels strongly about it, but never the same emotion. At times, guilt. At others, rage, then his mind is redirected. All I have is that she is a combat trainer."

"...for ten years?" Anakin frowns. "At some kind of…military academy? For a new planetary militia?"

"Maybe an academy," Obi-Wan muses. "But I don't like what it says if the staff are forbidden from telling their own families where they are, and there are at least one hundred and four children there she can claim as Foundlings."

Oh, yeah, ouch.

That's definitely not good.

"That's all I have. Mandalorians are stubborn, but it's not a matter of won't. I feel that is all he can tell me."

Obi-Wan doesn't need to say Fett doesn't realize he's not keeping secrets out of his own free will. The first thing any competent Shadow would shunt is the realization that they were shunted.

"A contract like that has to take priority over others," Anakin says thoughtfully.

Gardulla had bounty hunters.

He doesn't really remember living in the Hutt's palace before she lost him and his mom to Watto in a Sabacc game. Not much anyway, besides fear. You don't short a Hutt, not on money, not on time. Anyone who could afford Mandos on retainer was likely the same way.

"He had to at least have permission from someone to take a hit out on a senator." If it wasn't from the same person he was already working for. "If he can't say who hired him for this, maybe they will."

"It's not just the shunt." There was a grunt and then he was put on hold for a few seconds before the call picks up again. "He's mistaken me for an older brother who died before I was ever adopted. He should know better, there is something very, very wrong here. I must see if this is simply an abuse of power by one of ours or worse."

Anakin grins so brightly, he knows its in his voice. "Xhee knew you'd be in."

"...or I can leave this alone and not get involved any further!" Obi-Wan backpedals frantically. "I can record my observations for the Council and leave this. Can I leave this? I can leave this." For a long moment, there is nothing but the sound of someone breathing inside a helmet before an exclamation of despair. "This is actually Mando business. I have to. I can't leave this. Kark."

He couldn't help it.

He starts cracking up.

"Slana'pir!" Obi-Wan barks at him, unamused.

"Stop falling for it!" Anakin laughs. "And she will!"

Obi-Wan hangs up on him.

About five seconds later, he calls again. "Should I put a tracker on Fett's ship?" He asks dully, utterly resigned. "He will likely find it after the first jump, but it's our only lead."

Not…their only lead. He hurriedly starts up his query matrix on his mini HUD. "Kamino. One of his contacts there is giving him specialized hunting gear. Let me pull the coordinates."

"Kamino…" Obi-Wan hums to himself. "Practically in Wild Space, past the Rishi Maze. I'll submit a re - "

"Wait a second." Anakin comes to a dead stop as his query to the temple archives comes up with an error. "How the kark do you know where it is when our archives says it doesn't exist?"

Because it was kriffing erased from the archives.

Without erasing the astronavigation data, so pulling up where Kamino should be still showed the gravitational computations of a planetary system that only made sense if a planet was actually there.

If that didn't jump up and down screaming I AM HIDING SOMETHING HERE I WANT YOU TO FIND he didn't know what it was doing.

That makes four layers.

Someone turned the Jedi Temple Archives into a weapon.

Anakin sits there for a long moment, staring at the three dimensional image of Kamino's system.

There's even a solar flare warning and an estimation of when a comet large enough to mess with close jumps will be in the system. The blank space of where Kamino should be feels ominous. He's sat in these large rooms before. He remembers the first time he saw them, marveling at the endless shelves of holobooks, datapads and carefully preserved sheets of flimsi. The busts of the Lost Twenty, masters who have chosen to leave the Order, stand before plaques still celebrating what they have achieved. He's done homework in that corner, researched for projects or pranks on those tables, worked on assignments with other padawans just like those younglings over there listening to their teacher.

And any one of the masters he's seen sitting where he is right now, browsing at the terminals, could have been stabbing them in the back.

He raises his hand, feeling bile burn in the back of his throat.

"Master Nu?" He softly calls to the Head Archivist who has been giving him an evil eye for the past half hour. "I think we're going to need a full review of these archives."

"Oh, we will, will we?" The elderly master says tartly, with a sharply raised grey eyebrow. He almost winces. "Perhaps you should inform me on why you think that is, young man."

He shows her.

The crags of her face deepens until they could cast shadows of their own. "Yes," she says slowly, reading through Obi-Wan's data packet and the stark comparison to their own records. "I do believe you to be correct."

"And maybe a travel restriction on this one," he murmurs, nodding back towards Kamino's system. "It's too obvious."

Master Jocasta Nu arches that deadly eyebrow at him again. "If we're missing data, we cannot avoid correction - "

"Not forever," he's quick to reassure the woman. "Just until it's been cleared. A Shadow is on the way - "

He gets knifed in the ribs.

"Padawan!?"

"H - hold on," he coughs through the pulsating pain. He pats himself down. He still feels like there should be blood running down his side, but there isn't, which can only mean one thing. 'Xhee!?'

The bond flutters and underneath the pain is a wild, feral glee as she denies almost losing a lung to a surprise multi barrel rifle, which is…concerningly specific. And she made a new friend that she has just one teeny, tiny question about.

Anakin sighs and makes the call for her.

"What is it, kid?" Fos grumbles.

"Do you have any recent reports about a Jedi hunting two meter tall immortal bounty hunter wielding a multi-barreled rifle named 'Durge' on Coruscant?"

"...what."

"Thanks, just checking." He hangs up. "New guy. That's always fun."

Master Nu is staring at him. "Are you…feeling pain through your bond with your master? As if it were your own?"

"A fraction of it," Anakin says stiffly, defensive. His bond with Xhee is weird, but they don't need any more masters poking their nose in where it doesn't belong. "It doesn't come through as much if we're prepared for it and it doesn't hinder mission effectiveness."

Nu nods slowly, lips pursed and dark eyes narrowed. "I see. Perhaps…I must check the archives before I say anything, but shouldn't you…?"

She trails off expectantly.

Anakin gives her a blank look. "Shouldn't I what?"

"...you felt your master's pain."

"Oh." Anakin blinks. He shrugs. "She's fine?"

The millisecond he feels like she is not fine, he's going.

The elderly master smiles at him, impressed. "Your faith in your master is a credit to her teachings."

…sure.

Let's go with that.


Flyboy: there's a trap for Jedi at Kamino. hide the lightsaber.

Mando B-1: Lovely.

Mando B-1: Really?

Flyboy: you laughed. don't deny it. it's not my fault your name makes a good pun.

Flyboy: xhee said you'd be able to go around it.

Mando B-1: And you trust everything she says?

Flyboy: and you don't?

Mando B-1: We will see if she's right, won't we?

Mando B-1: It's a karking army.

Flyboy: against the Jedi? who commands it? what can I tell the Council?

Mando B-1: FOR the Jedi.



"I'm still not stepping foot on that planet," Xhee says, lazing in the chair like she hadn't escorted Wessel's unconscious body through four elite bounty hunters, got shot in the side with a multi-barrel rifle, waded through a gang war spilling over into upper Coruscant somehow and a generator explosion and then went to a shady undercity medic instead of the Healing Halls like a sane Jedi.

It hasn't even been a full rotation yet and this mission is already Chancellor-grade.

Chancellor Palpatine chuckles warmly as he turns away from his office's window, hands clasped behind his back, like all the missions he personally requests of them don't get shot to Wild Space. "No, I did not think you would. Thankfully, you do not need to. The Jedi knowing about this 'army' is enough."

Anakin absently nudges Xhee with an elbow, so she could at least pretend to have some dignity, master, please as he flicks through his research after sleeping on it.

Apparently, he had Jango Kriffing Fett to thank for the fat bastard known as Senator Orn Free Taa being a thing. The senator he killed before, Ryloth's Connus Trella, had been linked to the wibo Death sticks crisis posthumously shortly before the - Bando Gora cult collapsed and super addictive hypnotic brain altering Death sticks went back to being normal Death sticks, proving they were responsible.

He scrolls back up to the note that had caught his attention. The kark was special about Bando Gora, wasn't it just another crime syndicate -

Oh, a Dark Side cult.

He sighs quietly to himself and files it away with the rest of the weird revelations. He owes Xhee an apology for getting on her case about the window. She clearly came by her weird honestly, since the Force was no better. How is a random Dark Side cult and Death sticks from ten years ago related to this? He hasn't even the slightest idea. If Padmé is taking blood money from drug runners, he'd eat his boots.

"Strange trap," Anakin mutters, flicking at his screens.

"A crude one, I feel." Chancellor Palpatine muses. "And yet effective. We still have no answers, only more questions." Xhee twitches, a flare of helpless rage sparking to life and then dying. The Chancellor waves a dismissive hand. "I trust the Council has opted to continue the investigation?"

"Naturally," she says.

"Good." The Chancellor leans against his desk, braced by his fingertips. "Then perhaps you can accompany me into a trap of my own devising as part of my security detail; the negotiations with this Confederacy of Independent Systems."

Xhee tilts her head curiously. "You're really going through with it."

"Count Dooku made an excellent suggestion," the Chancellor says with a small shrug. "If trust in the Republic has truly degraded so far, I have little choice but to look for neutral ground. Quite literally, in this case. In a ten day in the Lantillies system of the Mid Rim territories. Be prepared for anything."

Xhee's smile is thin and sharp. "Expecting trouble?"

"My dear girl." Palpatine taps his desk, smiling darkly. "I am counting on it."