2
The murmur of voices filled the wide corridor outside the Assembly Chamber, a steady undercurrent to the rhythmic click of boots on polished floors. Rynn stood near an alcove, arms crossed, her gaze sweeping the passing delegates. Most strode with hurried steps, their tense expressions and hushed conversations a familiar symphony of self-importance that grated on Rynn’s nerves.
Her eyes lingered on Minister Alaric Venn of the Core Alliance, who stood with his arms folded as he spoke to a pair of aides. His face was set in a practiced expression of neutrality, but the slight clench of his jaw and the way his fingers tapped against his sleeve betrayed his irritation. Likely calculating how to counter the arguments she’d raised during her speech. It was predictable. Venn had always been adept at sidestepping responsibility, cloaking self-interest in polished rhetoric about “balanced priorities.”
Nearby, Advocate Mirra Dyn, a Muun representative of the Trade Alliance, towered over a Rodian lobbyist. Her tall, slender frame was accentuated by the high collar of her muted metallic robes. Advocate Dyn’s elongated head tilted slightly as she spoke, her dark eyes sharp and calculating, though her diplomatic smile never faltered. Despite her composed appearance, the quick, precise gestures of her pale hands betrayed her mounting frustration. Rynn didn’t need to hear the conversation to know its nature—Mirra was undoubtedly reframing the session’s debates into terms favorable to the Trade Alliance, spinning resource allocation into an economic narrative rather than a humanitarian one. It was classic Trade Alliance strategy, but in Mirra’s hands, it was elevated to a masterclass in precision, weaving logic and persuasion so seamlessly that even her opponents often found themselves unwittingly nodding along.
A little farther down the hall, Prime Minister Drev Tarkannis stood apart from the crowd, speaking quietly with a Bothan delegate from the Frontier Alliance. Tarkannis’s posture was relaxed, his hands resting lightly on his belt, but his piercing blue eyes remained vigilant. Always calculating. Always watching. Rynn had worked with him enough to know that even his most casual conversations were deliberate; a strategist through and through.
The scene was a microcosm of the Assembly itself—a swirling mass of conflicting interests, every gesture and whisper a subtle maneuver in the endless game of influence. Rynn exhaled quietly. For all the galaxy’s diversity, the corridors of Concordia often felt like an echo chamber of familiar arguments. Those with power fought to keep it, while those in need were left to wait for scraps of attention.
Her musings were interrupted by a familiar voice cutting through the din.
“Advocate Kaelor.”
She turned, her eyes narrowing briefly before softening when she recognized the Togruta Jedi Master approaching her with unhurried grace. “Master T’ress,” she greeted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s been some time.”
“Too long,” Kaiden replied, inclining his head respectfully. “The last time we met, you were rallying support for relief efforts on Revaan. I see your fire for justice remains undiminished.”
Rynn let out a quiet laugh, the sound dry but not unkind. “The galaxy keeps giving me reasons to keep it burning.” Her gaze shifted to the younger man beside him, a Human with a sharp but slightly uncertain air. She arched an eyebrow, taking in the unfamiliar face. “And who do we have here?”
Kaiden gestured toward his companion. “Jedi Knight Odo Volayn. Recently promoted and already making me feel my age with his insights.”
The younger Jedi flushed slightly and bowed a little lower than necessary, likely to hide his embarrassment. “Advocate Kaelor. It’s an honor.”
Rynn returned the bow, but not nearly as low as the Knight. “Seeing members of your Order in these halls is a rarity these days but most welcomed, especially at this critical moment. Jedi presence has a way of loosening stuck wheels and setting things in motion.”
Odo straightened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll do my best not to jam them further, then, though Master T’ress is much better at navigating diplomacy.”
Rynn’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, faintly smiling as well. “And yet, here you are. That’s more than I’ve come to expect from the Order.”
Kaiden chuckled softly. “Advocate Kaelor is known for her candor, Odo. Consider that a compliment.”
“Known and occasionally criticized,” Rynn said lightly. “But I’ll take the praise where I can get it.”
Her eyes flicked back to the crowd, noting how conversations shifted and clusters reformed. “This isn’t the place for a real conversation,” she said, motioning subtly to the thrumming chaos around them. “If you’re not otherwise occupied, I have an office nearby where we can speak freely.”
Kaiden nodded with his characteristic calm. “Lead the way.”
Rynn gave a curt nod and turned sharply, her steps quick and purposeful as she cut through the crowd. The two Jedi followed in her wake. Heads turned as they passed, conversations pausing briefly before resuming in hushed tones. Some delegates regarded the Jedi with curiosity, others with thinly veiled suspicion. A few, particularly those from worlds ravaged by Force-wielders, avoided their gaze altogether, their expressions tight with unease.
Kaiden moved with his usual composed grace, offering polite nods and warm, understated smiles to those who caught his eye. His calm demeanor seemed to ease some of the tension, though not entirely—distrust of the Jedi ran deep in certain quarters, and no amount of courtesy could erase it entirely.
Odo, on the other hand, seemed less certain of how to respond. His gaze flitted across the crowd, catching wary glances and whispered exchanges. He shifted slightly, as if unsure whether to meet their eyes or look away, the weight of their scrutiny settling awkwardly on his shoulders. Still, he stayed close to Kaiden, clearly drawing reassurance from his former Master’s poise.
Her mind was already working, assessing how best to handle the conversation ahead. The Order’s sudden decision to answer her calls for aid wasn’t a coincidence, and Rynn intended to understand what had changed.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The door to Rynn’s office slid open with a soft hiss, and Odo stepped inside behind Kaiden. It was modestly sized, but every inch seemed purposeful. The lighting was soft, with subtle fixtures casting a warm glow against the smooth, metallic walls. Along one side of the room, a series of recessed alcoves displayed an array of objects, each illuminated by individual beams of light. There were delicate pottery fragments, intricate woven textiles, and small metallic sculptures. Some were pristine, others marred by time or damage, but all radiated a quiet significance. He moved closer, his attention snagged by the sheer variety of shapes and styles. Each item seemed to hum faintly in the Force, as if carrying echoes of the lives that had touched them.
Rynn moved to stand beside him, her arms crossed as she regarded the display. “I’ve been collecting these for years—artifacts from worlds destroyed or forgotten. Cultures that no longer have a voice in places like this.” She gestured around her. “If nothing else, I want to ensure they’re remembered.”
Odo turned toward the Advocate, seeing her in a slightly new light. “It’s… incredible. You’ve brought so much of their history here.”
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“It’s a fraction of what’s been lost,” Rynn said softly, her gaze distant. “But it’s something.”
One artifact in particular caught Odo’s eye—a small figurine carved from shimmering obsidian. It depicted a winged creature with elongated limbs and a crest of feathers, its pose mid-flight as though caught in a moment of freedom. As he got closer, he could see that the once-smooth surface was marred by cracks, and one wing was chipped, leaving its elegant form visibly incomplete. He stepped closer, his hand instinctively reaching out, though he stopped short of touching it.
“This one…” he murmured. “What is it?”
“It’s from Zaryth, my homeworld,” she answered with a bittersweet undertone. “We called them ‘skywarders.’ They were once sacred to our people, symbols of hope and resilience. This one was recovered from the ruins of the First City after the… after the collapse.”
Odo’s fingers hovered near the figurine, the Force suddenly tugging at his awareness. He closed his eyes as the room seemed to fade, replaced by a vivid image that bloomed in his mind.
In the Force he saw a bustling square bathed in golden sunlight. The air was alive with laughter and song as Zarythian children ran beneath towering sculptures of skywarders, their carved wings stretching toward the heavens. The scent of flowers and freshly baked bread lingered in the air, and a gentle breeze carried the sound of bells chiming in harmony. The figurine sat in the hands of a young artist, their delicate fingers smoothing its edges as they carved the final details.
The vision shifted abruptly. The sky darkened, the square now stood empty. Ash and dust choked the air, and several once-pristine sculptures lay shattered. The same figurine, now cracked, lay half-buried in debris, forgotten amid the chaos.
Odo blinked as the vision ended, the present rushing back with startling clarity. His chest tightened as he looked down at the figurine, its surface now seeming to glisten faintly in the soft light.
Rynn tilted her head, studying him carefully. “What did you see?”
He hesitated, his voice low. “Its past. The hands that made it, the life it came from… and what it witnessed when it was lost.”
She tilted her head in curiosity. “It spoke to you through the Force?”
Kaiden stepped forward, shaking his head. “The other way around. Odo experienced a Force vision. They come to us unbidden, and they can reveal fragments of what was, what is, or even what might be. They’re often unclear or incomplete, but they always serve a purpose for the Force, even if that purpose isn’t immediately obvious.”
Odo frowned, his gaze drifting back to the figurine. “But why would the Force show me something like this? It felt so… personal.”
The Jedi Master placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “The Force and its ways are often beyond our understanding. It’s tempting to look at a vision like this and try to place it within the context of what was or what might be. But that can draw you away from where you are now.”
He gestured lightly to the figurine. “What you saw is part of the Force’s flow, a glimpse of its currents. But remember, the past is a memory, and the future is always in motion. If you let yourself get caught in either, you’ll lose sight of the present—and that’s where the Force is strongest.”
Kaiden’s amber eyes met Odo’s. “Let the vision be what it is: a moment the Force shared with you. Don’t try to grasp its meaning too tightly or force it to fit a purpose. Focus on the here and now. Trust that when the Force means for you to understand more, it will reveal the rest.”
“Well,” Rynn began, bringing the conversation to the matter at hand, “we can only hope the Force is with us in our upcoming mission. Speaking of,” she paused, her voice hardening a little as she turned toward Kaiden. “I’ve spent months calling for help, sending message after message, hoping someone in the Jedi Order would take notice. I have to wonder—what’s changed? What’s caused the Order to respond now?”
She paused, glancing at Odo before returning her gaze to Kaiden. “Is it because the Council finally sees the cracks spreading across the galaxy? Or maybe Zaryth has become a convenient case study for them—a way to understand the chaos without getting too involved. Or…” She hesitated, her voice dropping slightly, “perhaps it’s simply a gesture, sending a newly promoted Knight with me to appease certain factions of the Assembly without making a larger commitment.”
Her words lingered in the air, thoughtful rather than accusatory. She met Kaiden’s gaze directly. “Of course, I’d like to believe it’s because someone, somewhere, genuinely sees what’s happening and wants to help.”
“Your questions are fair, Advocate Kaelor,” Kaiden said, speaking slowly and acknowledging the weight of her words. “The truth is, your requests have caused ripples within the Jedi Order—more than you likely realize. Some of us believe the Force calls us to action, that its will is expressed through moments like these, through pleas like yours, urging us to intervene. But others argue that the Order’s interference in galactic affairs is what led the Republic to ruin centuries ago and gave rise to the Empire. They accuse us of failing to learn from the past, insisting that our role is to observe and trust the Force to guide the galaxy in its own way. Your persistence has brought that debate to the forefront, creating a schism we’ve yet to reconcile.”
He folded his hands behind his back and looked up toward the vaulted ceiling. “I need to be honest with you—things are worse, and far more complex, than you know. The instability on Zaryth, the chaos spreading across the galaxy, it’s only part of a much larger fracture. The Council wrestled with your pleas for months, but in the end, they did not decide to send us. That choice was mine.”
Odo’s eyes widened slightly. He was unaware that Kaiden had acted on his own. The revelation made him feel uneasy—not because he doubted his former Master, but because it was so unlike the Kaiden he knew. For all his unorthodox tendencies, Kaiden had always respected the Council’s decisions.
“I believe the living Force is moving through me,” Kaiden continued, looking at Rynn again, “guiding me to act even when others hesitate. It’s why I’m here, why I chose Odo to accompany you. The Force is not always clear in its purpose, but when it stirs so strongly, I trust it.”
He glanced briefly at Odo before continuing. “As for Concordia, I feel the Force’s presence here just as strongly. It’s as if it’s holding its breath, waiting. I can’t tell you why I need to remain here during your mission, only that I feel it’s necessary. There’s something here that I’m meant to witness—or perhaps something I’m meant to do. The Force hasn’t shown me what yet, but I trust it will, in time.”
“I’ve felt it too,” Odo said quietly. “Ever since we arrived here. There’s this… weight in the Force, like something is on the brink of happening, and we’re just waiting for it to tip.”
He paused, glancing between Kaiden and Rynn. “I don’t know what it is, but it feels close. Like it’s right there, just beyond reach.”
Kaiden placed a reassuring hand on Odo’s shoulder. “Trust your feelings and believe in the Force. It brought us here for a reason, even if we can’t see it clearly yet.”
Odo nodded slowly, but his thoughts drifted as Kaiden’s words echoed in his mind. He was not particularly strong in the Force, but the Force felt closer than it ever had, its currents swirling around him with unknowable intent. For a brief moment, he lost himself in the sensation, his focus slipping into the depths of the Force where the boundaries of time and place felt blurred.
“Unbelievable,” Rynn’s sharp tone cut through his thoughts like a blade, snapping him back to the present. She had stepped away, her arms crossed tightly, her jaw set. “So, you’re telling me that the Council—the Jedi Council—didn’t authorize this? That you’re both here on your own? What exactly do you expect to accomplish? Two Jedi? Against everything Zaryth is facing? It’s pointless.”
Odo shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Kaiden but found his former Master looking at him expectantly. His calm, steady expression offered no further guidance, leaving the younger Jedi to find his own response. Odo hesitated for a moment, but then drew in a steadying breath and straightened, meeting her fiery gaze with a quiet conviction. “Numbers don’t matter if we’re following the will of the Force. If the Force is with us, it will guide us where we need to be and give us what we need to succeed. I don’t doubt that, nor does Master T’ress, so neither should you.”
Rynn was quiet for a long time. Her blue-green eyes remained fixed on Odo, weighing his words, testing their conviction. The tension in the room was like a physical thing, the quiet almost heavier than her earlier outburst. Finally, she exhaled and unfolded her arms, her posture softening slightly.
“Objectively,” she admitted, choosing her words carefully, “I’m in a better position having a Jedi come with me than not—even without the Council’s backing.” She paused, glancing between Odo and Kaiden. “The Force may not be something I fully understand, but if you believe it’s guiding you, then I am willing to trust that. For now.”
Her voice carried no warmth, but neither did it hold the edge of her earlier anger. It was the voice of someone resigned to practicality, finding little choice but to accept the situation as it was. “I’ll hold you to your conviction, Knight Volayn. Let’s hope you’re right.”
Rynn turned away from the two Jedi, her boots clicking softly against the floor as she approached a wall panel. With a quick motion, she touched the screen, bringing up a holographic interface. Her fingers moved with practiced efficiency, scrolling through schedules and updates until she found what she was looking for.
“The diplomatic shuttle I secured is fueled and ready to go,” she said, her tone all business now. She glanced back at Odo. “We can depart as soon as you’re prepared. I assume you travel light?”