As I neared the ramp to enter Raven, I suppressed a yawn. The training I was undergoing now as an Apprentice of The Way was more tiring and strenuous than the Guardians had hinted at. Two nights of rest a week, at no more than four hours at a time, was stretching me to my limits, and with me needing to keep returning to my ship to speak with Anakin, even with the Force to help me it was starting to place a strain on my nerves.
I knew Anakin would sense my tiredness, but the more I could hide it, the less he would worry about me. I knew I was pushing myself heavily, running myself ragged with training with the Guardians and continuing to train Anakin, but I could handle it.
To help slightly with that, Simvyl came back to Raven once a week now, training Anakin in unarmed combat and other things so that I could focus on fewer matters when I was here. I was glad for that as while the training with the Guardian was intense, it felt extremely beneficial.
Learning ways to slip the Force around me to gently guide others to either ignore me or consider me less of a threat were tricks that would be extremely useful going forward. Haran, I would’ve killed to have such skills in my former life. Yes, it would’ve seen me shift from being a front-line operator to becoming a spook, but what one was capable of with the Force if one looked beyond the narrow ideals of the Jedi was mind-blowingly scary.
As I reached the ramp, I sensed an onrushing presence and looking up I saw the large black mask of my tuk’ata bounding toward me. “Fenrir!” I called out as he rushed me. I ducked and slid to one side, letting him sail through the air before turning to face him. “Down!” I snarled, some of my anger slipping into the Force with the word.
Fenrir stopped and his head dropped slightly, as if understanding he’d angered his pack leader. I sighed at the face he made; somehow even though he was almost as tall as me – and considerably bulkier and stronger – he still managed to pull off the sad puppy face that I’d have thought he would’ve grown out of by now. “It’s okay,” I said softly, holding out a hand to gesture him closer. “I’m just tired.”
His head perked up at that and he moved closer, pushing one side of his face into my hand. I chuckled at the display and scratched him under his ear. “How have you been, boy?”
He whined softly and leaned into my touch as I once more felt the gentle shifting in the Force whenever I returned to Raven. At first, I’d thought it was simply the force feeling that I was home, yet the longer my training on Anzat had gone on, the greater the sensation had grown, and I was now certain it was the Force slowly letting me know that my time on the planet and training with the Guardians was drawing to a close.
I was a few weeks short of my nineteenth birthday, with the anniversary of the invasion of Naboo a few months further down the line. It was slowly getting to the point where I’d have to stop my various training voyages and begin preparing for what was to come, but I felt I still had time for one more trip, though I was uncertain as to which Force sect or warrior culture to visit next.
An excited ball of energy surged in the Force, and I turned back to the ramp to see Anakin bounding down it. “CAM!” He called out excitedly, and as I knelt– without taking my hand from just under Fenrir’s ear – waited for him.
He ran into my arm, and I held him tight as his arms closed around my neck. “An’ika,” I said with a smile at the warm reaction to my return. I patted his back as he held me tightly, almost as if scared I might not be real. “I’m here, don’t worry.”
“I know,” He said, his head half-buried in my shoulder, “I’m just happy you’re back.” He loosened his grasp about half a minute later and pulled back so he could look me in the eyes. “Are you finished here?” He asked the same question he asked every time I returned to Raven to check up on him.
I knew he was doing well as HK and R2 sent regular updates to me, and from the sound of things, Anakin was obeying the training and studying regiment I’d created for him well, or at least HK hadn’t suggested a need to discipline Anakin to me, nor had Anakin complained about HK’s strictness. At least not since the end of the first month of the schedule.
“No, I still have some time to go,” I replied, causing some of his energy to fade away, “but not long. Perhaps a month or so.” That had the enthusiasm return slightly. “Now, how have your projects been going?” I asked.
His face lit up as I’d expected and he turned, moving toward Raven, one hand trying to drag me with him. “Great!” He said with the bounce back in his step. “Come on.”
I chuckled as I allowed him to drag me up the ramp and into Raven. Fenrir moaned, unhappy at my hand slipping from his fur but followed along in the hope of more attention. As we reached the top of the ramp, I stopped, making Anakin turn to me. “Go and get your pads and I’ll meet you in the main hold,” I said.
He nodded so fast I feared he’d hurt his neck before bounding away a touch too quickly to be entirely normal. Such frivolous use of the Force wasn’t something a Jedi would normally tolerate. However, I was far from being a normal Jedi, and as he was excited, and as it was a sign he was becoming more comfortable with drawing on his power in his everyday life, I saw little harm in allowing such behaviour to continue.
I moved forward, heading toward the central area, knowing he’d have the pads and schematics ready for me by the time I got there. I’d not asked about either project – the one for a starfighter and the one for a droid – in about a month, so it would be interesting to see how far he’d advanced his concepts.
At my side I heard Fenrir grunt, hinting at his amusement at my son’s behaviour. It might’ve been less than two years since Shmi had died and I’d adopted Anakin into Clan Shan, but Anakin now considered me, Fenrir, Raven, and even the droids as family. That was a sentiment I shared wholeheartedly.
“Hey R2,” I said as I saw the astromech rolling through a corridor, “been keeping out of trouble?” The droid beeped loudly at my comment, making me laugh. “Yeah, I know there’s nowhere to get into trouble here, but I don’t think that would stop you or HK if the chance arose.” He beeped again and his head rotated around. “I know, I know. You’re the responsible one out of the four of you, but that’s not a high bar to clear.” He whistled in irritation before turning and rolling away, deciding he didn’t like the conversation.
I shook my head as I chuckled at his behaviour. I was being truthful in saying that of the four who stayed on Raven, he was the most responsible, but again when the other three were an assassin droid that wanted at times to wipe all meatbags, a creature bred to hunt and kill, and an almost hyperactive young boy with incredible potential at his fingertips, being the responsible one wasn’t a hard position to take.
I knew I was not counting Raven in that grouping, but if the chance arose to do some acrobatic if not downright dangerous flying, she would. It was just that with us stuck on Anzat for such a long time, she had no chance to push to do something unwise. Though as my hand ran over her hull, generating a symphony of happy light from her, I knew she would the moment we left the planet.
As I reached the central area, which served as the meal hall, and general relaxation room, I saw Anakin at the central table. A dozen datapads were strewn on the table, though two in particular held places of importance before my son. “I see you’re ready,” I commented with a wide smile as I walked closer. “HK,” I added as I spotted the assassin droid standing nearby, guarding the short corridor that led to the cockpit.
“Greeting: It is good to see you, Master. Query: When might we leave this pitiful excuse for a world, or at the very least, seek out meatbags so that I might test my latest calibrations?”
“We’ll be leaving in a month or so,” I replied, ignoring the suggestion that he wanted to go on a murder spree. He said that often but had yet to do so; at least without asking me first, which I always shut down. “Simvyl’s coming along in his training and I’m not sure there’s much else new that I can learn from the Anzati without committing to being here far longer than I’m comfortable with.”
Simvyl was doing well in his Initiate grouping, standing third of seven. He wasn’t overly happy about his placement, seeing it as a failure on his part, Yet I knew it was impressive. The others were all Anzati who had over a hundred years of experience on him – one was just north of two hundred according to Observe – so for him to be ahead of any of them, even considering he wasn’t a raw recruit, was a worthy achievement. Before Naboo, he had been a good warrior, but now as we closed in on two years since then, and with training with the Matukai and Echani to draw upon, he was a far more dangerous fighter for any who stood against him.
My training was now handled alone, as I was too far behind any Apprentice grouping at the Sanctum to join them, but too advanced to remain with the Initiate grouping. The training was tiring, and draining, but I would manage it. I wouldn’t allow it to break me. I knew that both Adas and Dooku might likely feel I could do better, or improve further faster, but I was content with my current level of exertion, as going any further might harm my ability to spend these evenings with Anakin.
Anakin struggles to remain still as I approach, and as I slide in beside him, he thrusts a datapad – one of the two directly before him – into my hands. Activating the pad, I let out a low, impressed whistle.
The image before me was of a fighter never seen before in this galaxy. The lineage of the Z-95 in it was clear to see, as were – rather amusingly – hints of the X-Wing. I’d not offered Anakin any hint of that vessel during his time working on this project, but even with just this basic rotating image of a starfighter, I could see how this vessel and the one made famous in the other timeline, came from the same family of design. Just with different minds pushing their creation.
I slid the screen to the next page, taking in the dimensions and specifications of this fighter. Anakin’s creation – which I noted he’d not yet named – was about fifteen metres long, twelve wide and four high with the landing gears deployed. The wings of the Z-95 were present, though they started further along the fuselage, not far behind where an astromech slot was located, and tapered to rounded edges in line with the engines. Each wing was in fact a pair of S-foils that opened in combat, just like the X-Wing. The tip of each of those four wings carried a laser cannon. The stats of those, and other weaponry were missing, suggesting Anakin wasn’t sure of the exact power output or models of such things. Still, the presence of four cannons like that was amusing.
The image before me shifted, showing me the underside of the craft. Three hardpoints for extra weapons – be they bombs, missiles, or extra cannons – were on the bottom of each wing while in the centre of the fuselage is a section that, according to Anakin’s suggestions, could be used for supplies if the fighter has to travel for a long time, or to carry extra munitions. The specifics of what would go on these hard points and into the internal bay would depend on the mission, but I could already imagine various layouts to suit different operations. The flexibility of this wasn’t something I’d suggested to Anakin, yet it was a feature I highly approved of.
The fighter had a hyperdrive, which would drive up the cost but was a good idea. Anakin seemed to want a 1.0-rated drive, which would make this fighter extremely quick in reaching its destination. Once there, the four engines would grant it impressive acceleration and atmospheric top speed.
“Anakin,” I said slowly, looking at him in awe at what he’d created. “This is incredible.” Yes, the design needed refinement – the specifics of the powercore, engines and weapons weren’t defined as he didn’t have access to some of the data needed to punch in the numbers – but I knew that what he’d created was a solid, if not amazing, base from which to create a fighter to rival anything the galaxy had seen.
“There’s more,” He said with a large smile. I passed him the pad, expecting him to give me another. Instead, he touched a corner of the one I was holding, and the image of the fighter gave way to some rough specifications.
I blinked as I saw figures that I’d not expected. “How did you get this data?” I asked, knowing some of it wasn’t anything I’d granted him access to.
He shrugged. “I used the Holonet to find the files,” he said before mumbling something else.
“What?”
“I, um, I used some of your credits to purchase some files and contacted Raith,” he explained looking down at the ground. “I needed details for the design, and you weren’t here to ask.”
I chuckled and reached out to rub his hair. “In future, if I’m not here, so long as you’re not breaking any laws, assume it's fine to spend credits for projects such as this,” I said. Yes, he had gone behind my back on the matter, but the results of it – the details here suggested how different components from various manufacturers could be added to the inner workings and how many would alter various systems – was an incredible leap beyond what I’d asked of him.
After he nods, I turn back to the datapad, scrolling the list of equipment that could be used for each section. It appeared that Anakin had decided to make the internals as modular as the externals. Different components would need small alterations to fit into the fighter, and each would alter the circuitry slightly, but there was good logic in this approach. “Why did you not settle on a single supplier for each component?”
“I remembered you talking about the danger of placing all our eggs in one basket,” Anakin replied with a smile. “some of the parts won’t work with others, but I’d programmed the pad to mark out the pieces when that happens.”
“Well done.” I looked back at the details and grinned. “I asked you to create a starfighter with a focus on superiority, and you went and made something that was much more adaptable.”
His smile widened. “I… I was also thinking about how we could use the base design for other ships.” He spoke slowly, as if unsure of himself. “I wanted the ship to have every weapon possible, but doing that caused big problems.”
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“That’s one way to put it,” I said with a grin.
“Yeah. So, I was thinking of this.” He tapped the pad again and this time it displayed four new fighters. Each was similar to the first one but altered in ways – some subtle, some less so – that made certain each was unique while having a common foundation. The details of each ship weren’t present, but each had a title hinting at their various roles.
“Anakin,” I said slowly as I understood the concepts he was going for here. “This is amazing.”
Using a base airframe to build variants built for specific things – bomber, rapid recon or deep-strike, interceptor, and missile-boat were the four names Anakin had given to the new designs – was a smart way to standardise production, and in theory, keep down costs. Now, the variants were missing the level of detail that the main fighter design had, but I could see ways that many of the components suggested for the starfighter could be used in the variants.
“There’s more,” Anakin said, changing the display on the pad to show two more fighters. Again, there were clean lines that suggested the commonality of them, yet these two were significantly different. The first was larger by about fifty per cent and had a cockpit designed for two pilots and a built-in astromech droid. It looked slower but had more armament – potentially enough to take out cruisers and other mid-sized starships – and the more I stared at it, the more it reminded me of the ARC-130 the GAR would use in the Clone Wars.
The second variant was more akin to a scout craft. It was large again but seemed to be designed for outright speed. Yet with the larger central hold, it would be able to deploy its cargo and depart before most others were aware of its presence.
These designs were not things I’d seen on my previous trips as I’d spent the majority of the time training him with his lightsaber forms and usage of the Force. Yet it seemed he’d been far from idle in my absence.
Some of the concepts he had created bore similarities to fighters, bombers, and interceptors I’d seen on the galactic market, but the specifics of such vessels were hard to be certain of. Yes, their creators listed their capabilities, but I couldn’t be sure they weren’t overselling their creations. Nor did I know what other advanced projects and designs they had in the pipeline. The Banite Sith would be working with various companies to develop and build the ships and equipment for the GAR so that when war came, the Republic could fight back and, as the war dragged on, the Jedi could be dragged around and taken out slowly until the Banite Sith were ready to strike and end the Republic and Jedi in a single day or so.
“Are you planning for a war?” I asked him after looking over the variants. While alone a fleet of starfighters to his designs wouldn’t be enough to win a war, in theory, they’d be more than capable of turning the tide of just about any battle.
“No,” Anakin replied with a giggle. “But you’ve made clear you think there’s one coming inside our lifetimes,” I grunted, remembering I had hinted in his presence about the coming Clone Wars, unaware that he’d taken that knowledge in and that I had influenced his thoughts and intentions. “Even if there’s not if we can make a fleet of these, then Lia and the Lokella can be safe from future attacks.”
“Ah,” I said softly, understanding now coming to me. While he was concerned about the war I felt was coming, his focus was on protecting his family. He knew I, along with Fenrir, Simvyl, and the droids could look after ourselves, but that his younger half-sister currently couldn’t. Given she had little potential for the Force, she’d never become what Anakin could, but I felt with the right – read Mando’ade – training, she could be as dangerous as someone like Bo or Naz.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do everything you can to protect those you love, An’ika. But even if we do that, no matter what we do, even if we burn entire worlds in an attempt to save our loved ones, we have to accept that death is a natural part of the universe. Even the stars die. It is a law of the universe that cannot be overcome.”
He looked up at me in shock, his eyes wide. “St…stars can die?” He asked, having seemingly considered it as possible.
“Yes, Anakin they do. That is how Black holes, and other such phenomena occur.” I reach over and place a hand on his shoulder as I sense the cold, almost mind-numbing fear radiating from him and push the warmth of my presence to him through the Force. “I know it scares you. It scares me as well when I consider that one day you, Bo, Fenrir, and others might die. However, dwelling on that fear, letting it consume you in some false hope that you can alter things so no one you care for dies is a dark and dangerous path to walk down. One that, if you do so, will see you consumed by the Dark Side and become nothing but a puppet of whatever twisted desires it demands of you.”
“I know,” he whispered though I felt he didn’t yet understand, “it’s just…” his head dropped, and he looked down at his feet, kicking them aimlessly against each other. “I miss her, and I don’t want to lose you.”
I reached forward and pulled him into a hug. His arms closed eagerly around my waist as I held him tight. “I understand, Anakin,” I said gently. “I miss my grandfather and don’t want to lose you either. That’s why all this training is needed.”
I held him for a while, letting him draw strength from me and allowing him to gather his thoughts and calm his raging emotions. He might not have the issue I did with the Interface, and through it, Eidetic Memory making it impossible for me to let go of my emotions and fears, but I knew he dwelled on such thoughts heavily. So much so that, in the other timeline, Sidious had exploited that and his fears over his wife, to corrupt him into Darth Vader.
After what felt like a few minutes, I felt Anakin shift and let him slip from my grasp. His face was long, and while there were no tears, I could sense his unease. I smiled in understanding and moved my hands toward the datapad he’d given me. “I’m proud of you and your creations, An’ika,” I said softly, drawing his thoughts away from his mother and his fears for the future, “in the time we’ve known each other, you’ve gotten stronger and stronger. Don’t ever think otherwise, nor that I don’t want you trying to protect those you love. You just need to learn that we cannot protect everyone all the time.”
His eyes came up, and a faint smirk came to his lips. “Not even you?”
“Yes Anakin, even me,” I said as I ruffled his hair. “I know I have, shall we say, a talent for getting into trouble,” he giggled at that, “but when I do I need you to stop and think before you act. It might seem to draw trouble to me, but I have never failed to escape that trouble with my own skill and power. I’d rather find my way out of that trouble than have to worry about you running in to help, acting like a bantha in a crystal shop.”
Anakin laughed happily at the analogy. “Says the man who jumps from starships to help those he cares for.” My brow rose at him throwing that back at me. I’d never talked to him about my rush to help Serra after her verd’goten or to reach Bo and Naz during the Battle of Keldabe, but it seemed he was aware of at least one of them. “Bo and Naz told me about your adventures.”
“Ah,” I muttered in understanding. “Still, I do hope that you learn from my mistakes – and such reckless action, even if it worked out was reckless – and make your own choices.” With hindsight, I can see how I could’ve approached those moments better, and still achieved my goals, but I knew well what the saying about hindsight was.
“I’ll try.”
I shook my head as I laughed at his non-committal answer and ruffled his hair once more. In moments like this, I felt sympathy for Obi-Wan when he’d had to raise and train Anakin in the other timeline. The issue was that I knew I was, at times, a bad role model. Just like Anakin, I was the sort of person to rush headlong into the fire to save those I cared about, and while that had worked out for me for the most part – the loss of my forearm notwithstanding – I knew I had to temper my instincts. If not for my sake, then for Anakin’s and the others I cared for.
He was only eleven, but already my thoughts were starting to drift to two years in the future. At that point, he would be old enough for his verd’goten, and I couldn’t deny a hint of fear at what that might entail. I knew I’d trained him well, and that he could look after himself, but I feared that he would – like myself before him – face a challenge for which he wasn’t entirely ready. The hardest part was going to be not doing what I wanted and rushing to help, as that would see him fail the challenge, and possibly hate me for doing so.
“So,” I said slowly, pushing thoughts of Anakin’s future aside, “the base fighter, do you feel ready to consider making a prototype?” If he was, then I’d have to contact either Raith or Alor Dred Yomaget – more likely the latter – and see if they or someone they knew could help with the creation of a prototype. The sooner it was made, and the kinks worked out, the sooner production could begin, giving at least the Lokella access to his creations.
Anakin’s eyes widened, and I sensed his surprise at me suggesting he move forward with the project. “I… um… I mean, maybe. In a few months. I guess.” He paused and rubbed the back of his head. “It’s just… the parts I want to use, they’re not cheap.”
“How much?” I asked, not caring greatly about the cost, as beyond my wealth, I had access to the Jedi’s funds. The idea of having them pay for the creation of a fighter that would, in all likelihood, be used against them, was amusing enough that I could see myself doing that.
“At least a million credits I guess. Both the parts and paying someone to build and test it for us.”
“For you, An’ika,” I countered, “this is your project, not mine.” I saw his mouth open, probably to argue, and I held my hand up to stop him. “The idea of you creating a starfighter was one I gave you,” I said slowly, wanting to explain my logic. “I did so because you have a talent for technology that I don’t, which I’m fine with by the way. I wanted this project, and the one for a droid, to push your skills. I never intended for you to take it so far, so my influence over this project is over. All I will do is back you, however much it takes, with the credits to build the prototype. Whatever becomes of it, from the name to how far this goes, is up to you, and you will have my full, unqualified support for whatever you decide.”
It took a few moments for Anakin to accept my words, but when he had, he looked at me with a wide smile. “Okay.” There was a long moment where he seemed to revel with pride at having control of the starfighter project before he blinked. “Oh, the droid…”
He turned and all but snatched the datapad with the details of the starfighter on it from my hand, before replacing it was the other pad that had a place of prominence of the dozen or so that were on the table around us. Normally I would warn him about such behaviour, but it was clear he was doing it at this moment because he was excited, and not as might normally be the case, angry or upset.
As I turned to the new datapad I was curious as to what he’d done with the droid project. If the starfighter designs were anything to go by, this should be an interesting one. Especially with HK and R2 offering more opinions for this than for the starfighter.
At first glance, the droid didn’t appear too different from a well-modified 3P0-series protocol droid, but as I looked closer, and read some of the information on the first display, I whistled. “I know I just said it about the starfighter, but this is impressive, An’ika. I see you took in many of HK’s ideas,” I added as details of the hidden extras on the droid appeared on-screen.
The stomach no longer exposed internal wiring, and the odd brackets on the joints that seemed to limit the movement of such droids were gone. The entire thing was encased in metal with no obvious spots where it could be opened. A note on the page suggested using either beskar or phrik in the plating and I was not inclined to the former. Beskar was too rare to use on a droid, and the Mando’ade would never stand for such apparently frivolous use of the metal.
Elsewhere the deactivation switch on the back of the neck didn’t shut down the droid. Anakin wanted an option in the programming so that the droid could either fake being shut down or ignore the button entirely, and I knew that had come from HK. The same was true of the various hidden extras that the droid had.
“Yeah,” Anakin said with a broad smile, though a second later it slipped. “Um, this won’t be cheap either,” He added, which made me laugh.
“I believe I just told you that cost wasn’t a problem with the starfighter. Why would that be different for the droid?” His face lit up again at that. “So, show me,” I add.
Before arriving on Anzat, my publisher had contacted me. Fellowship of the Ring was doing far better than he and the production company had expected. At that time, I’d gained nearly forty billion credits from the holomovie, and by the end of the year, he suspected the figure would clear a hundred billion, if not close in on two hundred billion credits. That figure didn’t include anything from the merchandising, but the projections there were impressive as well and I could be looking at double to tripling the movie figures.
Yet, for all my new-found wealth, I suspected I was still far from being even the richest Mando’ade, to say nothing of the wider galaxy. Still, using those credits for Anakin’s projects was a better thing than simply letting them sit in various accounts gathering dust. I just hoped that whatever Anakin had added wasn’t overly complicated as, based on my experience in this life and the last, things worked best if they were kept relatively simple.
… …
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… …
I leaned back in the worn and tattered chair I found myself in this evening. I tapped the table in front of me, seemingly thinking about the cards I’d drawn in this round of sabacc, but in reality, my thoughts were elsewhere.
I was no longer on Anzat, the training had gone as far as I thought it could go without me committing time I knew I didn’t have. Simvyl had, before we’d left, attempted a similar exercise to the one I had. While he hadn’t succeeded as well as I had – as was expected of most Initiates – he had done decently and understood his mistakes. Indeed, he’d managed to slip from the compound without being detected, which was the minimum the Guardians had expected.
That had helped guide my decision to leave, and after saying our farewells, with a loose promise to return if the Force allowed, we’d departed the system. After speaking with Anakin about a new extra he wanted to add to his droid – something akin to a chameleon cloak that would allow it to project the appearance of being organic over its frame – I’d had to hunt for where to find such things, and then locate a seller. That hunt had brought me to my current locale; a bar in one of the less reputable sections of Worlport; the capital city of Ord Mantell.
To any who approached the world, they’d see a beautiful and modern world, a symbol of the Republic’s influence in the Mid Rim. But that influence ran below the surface as Ord Mantell was just as superficial as Coruscant or any Core World. Step away from the brilliant Corellian-inspired architecture in the Government District, and one quickly finds corruption, decay, and decadence. All signs of the failings that Republic was known for to any who knew to look away from the blinding light of the glittering central buildings.
The contact that I needed to meet had insisted on gathering on Ord Mantell, and I’d already spoken with them about what I needed. They claimed they could get the various components I’d need for Anakin’s droid, but it would take time as while not illegal some of the parts were restricted. They’d said it would take half a month to gather them at most, and after five days on Ord Mantell, I was regretting agreeing to wait here for them to get what I was purchasing.
The first few days had passed easily enough. Anakin, Simvyl, and I had explored Worlport; first as Jedi and then as travelling Mandalorians. The reason the switch had taken place was because I kept getting invited to the planetary governor’s mansion, as apparently there was some issue they wanted my help with. Sensing that whatever the issue was, I’d not enjoy it, I’d rejected the offer and then seemingly left the planet in Raven.
We’d returned a day later, taking over a more remote landing port; one where the planetary security was much laxer and more open-minded. The guards there had been persuaded with a handful of credits to mis-register Raven as another vessel but to avoid being bothered by the governor’s people, Anakin and I had started travelling as Mandos.
Simvyl had used the time on the planet to contact a few fellow Antarian Rangers, getting updates on issues throughout this slice of the galaxy’s Mid and Outer Rim. Looking them over, there was no apparent pattern to the grievances and skirmishes between various worlds and groups, but knowing what I did of what was to come, it didn’t take much to convince Simvyl that all of it was interconnected to the failings of the Republic.
With little to do but kill time, I’d ended up wandering the three gambling districts in Worlport. Not because I had any real interest in gambling, but more to see how those not sitting around the top table lived. The first district, Path of Coins, was aimed at the high rollers; those unconcerned about losing a few million credits here and there. I’d spent some time there gambling and testing out my social skills, but I’d grown tired of the place.
Port of Coins was meant to represent the best of Ord Mantell, yet even though the common terms weren’t used, slavery, drug dealing, and other illegal activities took place there. What made it worse was the fact the local law enforcement made no effort to deal with the problem. I knew the reasons – corruption and the like – but it still angered me that they would allow something as illegal as slavery to exist so openly simply by changing the name and, I suspected, forcing the workers to sign contracts that while seemingly making things seem legal, were little better than indentured servitude.
After a few more days of exploring, I’d ended up in Herglic’s Folly, travelling from one establishment to the next. This district lacked all but the most token of security forces, but even though this place was dirty, worn-down, and dangerous – three sentients had made the mistake of trying to rob me on the first night in the district – I found it more real. Yes, there was slavery, drug-dealing and illegal trades taking place here, and those I was sharing the sabacc table with all had bounties worth at least twenty-thousand credits on their head, but they were open and honest about their rule-breaking.
Oh, if I wanted to, I’d happily gun everyone at the table down, along with the majority of the casino I found myself in. They were scum of the lowest kind, but at least they were truthful about what they were and that, at least for the time being, was enough for me to grant them leniency. Well, that and the facts I had to kill time on the planet, that playing with such reprobates was a clever way to practice my social skills, and between the Force and Observe I never left a table with fewer credits than I sat down with.
“I see your bet and raise you.” That came from a Zabrak named Farld. This sentient, and I used the time loosely, was a trafficker in people, and had bounties from various sectors, the highest of which was thirty-five thousand credits from Taris. “Five thousand,” he said as he slid a pile of credits into the centre of the table.
I watched him with amusement, already aware that my hand beat his. It might’ve been cheating to use the Force and Observe in such ways but as everyone I was playing with was scum of the lowest sort, I didn’t care. Force, if they caught me cheating, then it just gave me a reason to gun them all down here and now.
“I see and raise,” I replied, pushing seven thousand credits into the pot. It was a small increase, but should tempt him into meeting and raising it, which was what I…
“Cameron!” The shouting of my name when I’d not given it to anyone had my attention. If I’d been wearing my helmet, the HUD could’ve told me who called out, but I wasn’t wearing it as faces had to be exposed at the table. “Cameron Shan!”
Hearing my full name, I knew the male – the voice made that clear – knew who I was, and as I turned, my hand grasping my blaster, I felt a familiar if off sensation in the Force. “Quinlan?” I muttered in confusion when I saw my fellow Jedi Knight coming toward me, dressed nothing like a Jedi should be attired, though since I wasn’t in Jedi garb either, I couldn’t hold that against him.
As he moves closer I notice a Devaronian enter behind him, one that looks remarkably like a devil, however, my focus is on Quinlan. Beyond the dishevelled look, his Force presence is off, if not wrong. As if part of him was missing or gone. “What’s wrong?” I ask as I remove my hand from my blaster, sensing the Force swirling erratically around the Kiffar.
“It’s Aayla! She’s missing!”
I blinked at hearing that. “What? How?” I demanded, trying to figure out how he could lose his Padawan, why she was missing, and why he was coming to me. I could see him begin to explain only for me to remember the game. “I fold,” I said, tossing my cards into the pile and then picking up my helmet. “Now,” I said as I moved closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him, “tell me what happened. From the beginning.”
He nodded, and as he gathered his thoughts I felt the Force shifting. There was something about this moment, and about Aayla’s disappearance, that it seemed to be suggesting might be of use to me. I just had to figure out what was going on, help Quinlan find Aayla, and then determine how it might affect me.
… …