Jedi Padawan Quest (Star Wars)

XXIX: Insurrections

It was a lovely day for everything to immediately go wrong. Nima was out, trying to navigate through a city increasingly constrained. The sun was bright, the skies were clear, and there weren't even that many people out. The streets smelled just as bad because street cleaners had staged strikes, terrified of being out there possibly getting sick in their line of duty. Master Bell had frowned, and Master Secura had told her that she was to also pay attention to how people were reacting.

It was hard to tell at the moment, since even though it was high morning, there hadn't been any ships coming in except temporarily in days, and everyone who walked through the streets hurrying past, covering their faces and darting their eyes about as if an infected person was going to attack them.

Nima felt as if she was swimming upriver through the dark side. In just the few days she'd been on the ship recovering, she'd forgotten about the way the fear and hatred and desperation couldn't even be placed anymore. It didn't feel deep, but it felt broad, everyone a little miserable, everyone a little sure they'd die next.

"The death toll is going to increase into the thousands per day, mathematically, until it burns its way through the population it can reach," Ekria had said. "It is statistically likely that this is tens or even hundreds of thousands. This would mean the effective, if not actual, end of Coronet City."

"Did you punch that in based on logic, or how it's like the plague has a mind and can skip around at will?"

"We've examined samples. It's definitely just a plaque," Ekria said. "I understand your concerns, but what would even be the vector for something like that?"

"Oh, it's a plague alright, but is it just a plague?" Lark asked, with a frown. "The truth is out there." Then he'd pointed in a random direction.

There was so little that made sense, and so little that she could hold tight onto. Overhead the flashing neon lights were out and would be out even at night, for one of the centers of the region was asleep, and so were the grand markets nearby where nearly everything was bought and sold.

Nima licked her lips nervously, hoping that her costume worked. It had a lot more fabric than before, the better to hide her lightsabers and Shuhudaku dagger, but she didn't have her boots because there was no way to hide them.

Nima, however, was still scanning the walls, because the boots helped a lot, but Jedi could on their own leap incredible distances. So if need be, she could be a Rider without Boots, just as the lightsaber didn't make the Jedi. In theory.

It certainly helped with certain tasks like avoiding the police that were on her tail.

She had noticed two of them, one of them subtle enough that she wasn't sure whether she was hiding in the Force or not. Both of them were women, one of them older, with grey hair and a pudgy body kept in check by a rather supportive uniform. The older woman didn't even try to blend in, merely tried to look as if she were patrolling as she marched up and down.

The second member of CorSec had rags on, but the same focus and determination. Nima couldn't see much of her face, but she was younger, with smooth, tan skin and bright blue eyes. She was the one that Nima almost couldn't see in the Force, who slipped from place to place and didn't talk to anyone, looking somewhere between scared and homeless.

They were keeping a bead on her, and she couldn't find a way to shake them. She'd tried increasing her pace a little bit, enough that it might seem like impatience, but they just kept on her like burrs. Nima didn't want to make it too obvious that she was running away, especially without her boots. The number of ways to get around without being seen was being reduced day by day, and similarly they were moving to cut off her options.

Then she felt it. It was hard to define it, but it was the way she felt them both make a decision. It was the intent to strike, and it meant that Nima had a very small set of choices. She could run now or she could do nothing and hope she was wrong. If she ran, where was there to go? She was on 18th street, near where the markets would be. To her left was an alley, and to her right was a boarded up shop whose unlit sign declared that it provided food for dozens of different species, no doubt for cheap and shovelled into their mouth at late hours between carousing, or before boarding their ships again.

In other words, there was nothing particularly promising, and even the alley was probably mapped out in advance.

Neither option would work.

So instead she walked up to the older woman in the white, green, and tan uniform and said, "Excuse me."

"Oh!" the woman said, startled by her move.

"Are you following me for a reason, ma'am?" Nima asked, making sure to make her voice as soft as possible, keeping her hands where the CorSec guard could see them. She could possibly draw her lightsaber faster than the woman could her blaster, but more importantly she didn't want to come off as a threat to someone who could cause trouble.

"What?" the woman said. "Er, I was going to say, you have… two choices." She coughed and straightened up, adopting a pose that Nima thought looked a lot like some Holovid star. "Either you come with us to have a drink, or you come down to the precinct to answer a few questions."

"A drink, where?" Nima asked.

"Oh, there's a bar. We should go."

"I'm too young to drink," Nima said, without really thinking.

The woman snorted. "You're funny, strange smuggler kid. Well, let me be blunt, then. If you don't come with us, you and your mother are spending the next few months in a cell and then you're going on trial."

Nima kept her face carefully blank, though her heart skipped a beat. If they thought she was just a smuggler, and yet were willing to take her to a meeting, this could be something very interesting. What if they were corrupt and looking to make a deal?"

"Lead the way, then. If you have juice," Nima said, aware that she should just stop talking, but not quite able to.

Her heart was racing, victory and defeat tasting the same as she followed close behind the two of them. The one in the uniform, whose name she didn't know yet, was the most obvious to follow, but they were both headed the same way.

Nima kept on walking, looking around, but if this was the setup for an ambush, she could neither see nor feel anything particularly distressing. Which of course meant that a squad of well-hidden battle droids could be around the next corner, and she'd probably not know it, the way she was could barely see any hostile intent past a dozen feet beneath all of the threatening emotions.

Finally, they turned into an alley, better smelling than some, and stopped in front of a door.

"Go in, Miss Smuggler, and then take an immediate left, unless you feel like fighting with armed guards ordered to fuck up anyone trying to run."

Nima nodded, stretching out her focus but feeling nothing obviously hostile behind the door, nor any particular danger associated with opening the door. Luckily enough, when she opened it she found herself in a hallway near a set of bathrooms, one for men, one for women, and then a 'family bathroom' whatever that specifically meant. But before all of those, and to her left, there was indeed a door that looked like it opened to a broom closet. But when she threw it open, she saw… a closet, yes, but there was a ray of light at the back.

Nima stepped and stumbled past all of the cleaning supplies, and pushed open the door, feeling the heat as she did.

Back there was a warm, well-lit room, complete with what looked like a wooden self-service bar and a number of comfortable looking plush chairs. The carpet was a rich green, and there were what looked like holo-photos on the walls, of various men and women who looked rather too rich to be meeting behind a closet, unless they were criminals.

The only two people there were a rough looking human man dressed all in black and wielding a blaster rifle, and…

"Seku Blen? I apologize for the way we have to meet again, but the need is great," Rotsek Horn said. The CorSec Captain that had caught them before, but not as Nima and Aayla, but as Xiann Blen and Seku Blen.

"I-it is?" Nima asked. It was probably better to play dumb, while she looked into his hard grey eyes.

"Boc, please scan her for any listening devices."

The man stepped forward, seeming to pull a thin wand from somewhere. It glowed at its tip, and began to beep when he ran it over where her scrambler was hidden, waiting to be used. She very slowly pulled it out and held it up to them. Boc looked skeptically at the sphere, as if sure that it was a trap.

"Ah, so you've been able to get around. That's a rather crudely built scrambler, Boc," Rostek Horn explained. "It makes this smugger's daughter more interesting. You are her daughter, correct? She seemed to observe quite a lot more care than if you were simply an… asset."

Nima hesitated, not knowing what to say. Why was he here? Why was she here? She relaxed a little, breathing through her nose and then out her mouth, and let the Force guide her words. "Somewhat. Why am I here, Mr. Horn?"

He seemed surprised at the formality, and said, "You're here because you can help me, and I can help you. I knew you weren't entirely on the up and up, but there have been signs since, combined with the abandoned ship, that let me know that something's going on. I'm not sure where, but I have it narrowed down." He spoke calmly and slowly, as if he were giving a presentation at a meeting, rather than threatening Nima. But she heard the threat, the simple fact that if these smugglers didn't agree he'd turn them in to face justice and feel little regret.

"Why? What do you want?" Nima asked, even quieter. He had to lean forward to hear her.

She needed to hear it from his mouth. She needed to know his heart was good, his intentions pure, since all she could tell from him was that he thought they were, that he thought he was about to do the right thing.

"I need to smuggle between ten and thirty people out. I can get you a list, but only if we know you're in." He looked at her for a long moment and seemed to see that was not enough. "Boc, please set that blaster to stun, just in case. Can you tell me where your mother is?"

"She's safe," Nima said, quietly, truly.

"Do you have a way to contact her?"

"I do," Nima said. "Who?"

"Jedi Knight Scerra Halycon," Rostek said, quietly.

Nima hadn't thought about the fact that the wife of a Jedi Knight might be one as well. "And her son? And those close to them?" Nima asked, very quietly.

Rostek's eyes went wide, and he almost reached for his blaster, but something must have stopped him.

Nima stared at him, and smiled softly. "You care for them so, so much."

"W-what. Yes, I… her husband was my friend," Rostek said, and Nima heard the lie there, heard that there was more than that. His face contorted, somewhere between anguish and fear. "Can you do it, can your mother help me, child?"

Nima frowned, as if in thought, and reached her hand into the bundle of rags and cloth that were her clothes.

Both of them tensed, and then stared in something like awe as she drew out her saber.

"I am Jedi Padawan Nima Tyruti, Master Jordyan Bell's Padawan, and we will save more than just your friend's wife and those close to them," Nima declared, etching each word into her heart. "We will save all of the Green Jedi." Nima stepped forward, holding out the hand that didn't have a lightsaber.

Rostek stared at it for a moment and reached down to take it.

"It is only right to be fighting alongside the Jedi again," Rostek said, slowly but with great certainty. "And you are not alone. Most of CorSec has turned on what is just and good, but there are allies, here and in every precinct. I don't know how to solve all of this." He sagged a little, and Nima gasped. "I'm tired, so tired. The plague is killing us too, is killing everyone and everything. But not in the Jedi District. Stopping that, stopping the Diktat, it's all too much."

"Nothing is too much when the Force is your ally," Nima said, with a soft smile. Then she had to admit, "And you know CorSec and the procedures, and that helps too."

Rostek Horn laughed. "Nejaa would have admitted it too. He never had much truck with mysticism alone."

Nima understood that. You could get a lot farther with the Force and an understanding of the diplomatic situation, procedures, and language than you could with the Force alone, and that besides the fact that the Force worked through individuals. At least, that was a simple version of the philosophical justification that Nima preferred (it just happened to be the one Katarina believed in, by sheer coincidence.)

"So, Nima, what is the plan?"

"I don't know yet. I'll have to talk to my Master." She licked her dry lips, and added, "But I'll do so soon. We probably shouldn't spend too long here together, in case…"

"Boc is trustworthy," Rostek insisted, with those flinty, earnest eyes of his. "But I understand your concerns. But I have to say… I'm not going to go along with political assassinations or violent revolutions against the entire system, whatever your Master Bell argues. That is further than I am willing to go."

"He wouldn't…" Nima began, but then wondered. She could imagine him arguing about the assassination point, about the dangers inherent in all of this. She could imagine many things. "He might, in other circumstances, but I don't think that's his plan at all."

Nima shook her head. "We'll get through this. Thank you for reaching out, thank you for doing what you probably already have done. There's just one more important thing before we go."

Rostek Horn blinked and leaned forward, squeaking a little in his plush seat.

"Would you happen to have any juice?"

*******

"So then," Master Bell said, unable quite to hide his grin as they all sat in the drab dining room, "You came back, sensibly enough."

"Yes," Nima said.

"The juice, what flavor was it?" Lark asked, curiously. "Was it good?"

"Why precisely are we fixated upon the juice?" Ekria asked, frowning from one figure to the other. Bell, Secura, and Lark were all hiding, with differing success, their amusement.

Nima had known it would be amusing, had realized only moments after she'd asked for juice how silly it was. But she'd been parched, and the juice had been something rich and sweet but not overpowering.

"Why indeed," Master Bell said, with a wave of his hand.

"The answer's pretty simple," Master Secura admitted, with a shrug. "So, Ekria, what do you think of the offer?"

"I would have to examine it in more detail, and perhaps calculate all of the different ways that this Mr. Horn is likely lying to us," Ekria said.

"I don't think he was lying," Nima said.

"I don't think he was lying about anything important," Master Secura corrected. "Is it just friendship that drove this?"

"I've met Halcyon, in passing," Master Bell said, tugging at his beard as he looked around the room. "He was both averse to polyamory and quite loyal."

"Oh. Right. We have to consider the baser motivations of the Green Jedi," Ekria said, her lips twisting in something between disdain and dismay.

"Not all that base, all things considered," Master Secura said. "Nor that unusual, considering Skywalker was apparently married for years."

Nima winced at that, but it was true. "I saw into his heart, and whatever his motivations, it doesn't matter because he means them in earnest."

"Good, good," Bell said. "Now we have to talk with a member of the Green Council. It will take time to be… sure of everything, and they're likely suspicious of us."

"They have reasons to be," Nima said, aware that this was almost something like… heterodoxy.

"Nima," Ekria said, shocked. "That was unlikely of you."

"Understanding, more like," Lark said. "Nima did always try to understand where everyone else came from. It's a good thing, so." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm going to go talk with some of the kids, if we're done chewing over this. Um, with your permission, sir, ma'ams." He added it a little belatedly, too used to the simple fact that there was no particular hierarchy here.

"Granted, always," Master Bell said. "May I ask what you're planning?" Nima could tell he meant it, was earnestly ready to be kept in the dark for at least a little while if need be.

"Traps. If someone finds this ship and attacks, we're probably already doomed, but a few traps and tricks could at least buy some of us time to go to ground." Lark frowned, rubbing at his eyes. "And I'm just the person to do that, on top of teaching some of them how to break encrypted comms. So that we get some warning if I'm busy."

Master Bell had stopped trying to hide his grin, pride dripping from his voice as he said, "And if you need any help from our agents in this regard, please tell me."

"I will, Master Bell," Lark said. "But I'm sure we'll be fine. One of Shrike's loyalists who flipped is actually a chemist, which'll help." He slipped out the door with a smile, and a grateful wave to Nima.

******

"Are you ready?" Nima asked, hoping Eida was.

"Yes. You also think so loud I don't even need the Force to tell you're nervous," Eida admitted. "You've spent hours with your Master reviewing these documents, so it's all good, right?"

"It should be," Master Bell said, stepping into the small, cramped room. Like everywhere else not regularly cleaned on this ship, it smelled faintly of rust. It was an abandoned room, one of the last before they started having to bunk people up who didn't like each other. "Nima, you'll have to guide me in. But it shouldn't be hard."

Nima nodded, touching Eida's shoulder. It was easier the second time, to put together the lodge, to imagine the smell of burning wood, and the sights of a well-appointed building, the rugs here and there, some of living animals, and then Eida, sitting on the floor, doing some sort of ridiculous pose.

"Come out, come out, dear Jix!"

There was a sound of footsteps, and then Jix stepped in from a door up the stairs to the second floor, a set of stairs which hadn't existed there before that moment. He walked down, carefully, a lightsaber at his belt, dressed in Temple-Formal Jedi garb.

"Master?" Nima called out. "Are you there?"

Master Jordyan Bell stepped in from nowhere, right out of the fireplace, the flames licking his body but not consuming it as he stepped forward. They spread, but only near him, as if they were under his control, as they no doubt were.

Nima stretched her mind and the Force, along with Jix's own efforts, to maintain this sort of space. Jix was the rooms upstairs, Nima the will that called upon this, Eida's mind the lodge, and Bell's the burning certainty in his own actions.

"We have one member of the Council able to meet with you," Jix said, with a polite bow in Master Bell's direction. "The others are standing back, and the matter is still undergoing a little… debate."

"More than a little," a booming voice said, as another person opened Jix's door. He was tall, with a square looking head and beady eyes, thin lips turned into a frown. "I am Master Pazol Kin, and it must have been a very bad day for the Jedi Order when they ran out of anyone other than you to be on their august Council. That's what's taking so long to discuss, you see. There were many who were suspicious as to whether any offer made by you was genuine. So I volunteered to go forward."

Nima's teeth clenched together, but she kept quiet as the man began to walk down.

"But I do suppose we have to work together, as soon as I'm sure of who you are. You have evidence, right, of your promotion? It would be quite a terrible thing to aid a fallen Jedi in misleading the Green Jedi into treason against the Republic."

"Treason?" Master Bell asked. "Sir, you do not understand. That's exactly what I would advocate, because the Republic is a threat and a menace, and you know it."

"Perhaps to other people, but Palpatine would be foolish to waste his time and energy trying and failing to fight us, with an entire planet at our backs and the law on our side. He'd ignore us."

"Maybe now! But probably not even that," Bell said, fiercely. "Do you think it's a coincidence, that plague has come now? Do you think it is a coincidence that you're bottled up? A man such as Palpatine can never know peace, can never know compromise but that he'll work around it to harm others. He's a Sith, it's what they do."

"The Sith are monsters, but they destroy themselves in the end," Pazol argued. "We need only contain him and in his madness he will turn--"

"Are you… are you serious? You were sent to negotiate with me?" Master Bell asked, blinking and looking at him as if he were some new and bizarre specimen of… not fungus, because that was truly interesting, at least if it was edible. Vermin?

"I sent myself here, and I will be heard Master Bell. I am on the Council."

"Are you? If you are questioning my credentials--"

This was going to be a disaster.

"Excuse me," Jix said. "We should probably not listen in, sir. Can all of us be excused somewhere else to catch up?"

Master Bell looked suspicious, and for good reason. Nima felt--perhaps thanks to her ongoing connection with Eida--the sly… something radiating off of Jix.

Pazol can't, and nodded distractedly.

Nima, Jix, and Eida hurried upstairs, throwing open the first door they could see and stepping through to what looked like any other training room in the Jedi Temple. It wasn't, but no doubt beyond 'wide open space with four walls' there weren't many ways to do a basic training space differently.

"Alright, what was that?" Eida asked. "Really, what was that?"

Nima nodded her agreement.

"Well… you see." Jix flushed. "I know you Temple Jedi never disagree and don't have politics, but Master Kin is important. He's… often foolish, but he once cleared out an entire nest of pirates single handedly despite a hundred to one odds. He, er, was just invited on the Council to fill in one of the temporary gaps. But he's…"

"An asshole," Eida stated, bluntly.

"Eida! There's a child present," Jix said, in a whisper that Nima could just barely hear.

"You think she hasn't heard worse? Really," Eida said. "Have you actually met any Correlians, Jix?"

"Oh, you know me," Jix said, dusting off his shoulder. "I'm too important to talk to people. That's what I have a mere Jedi Knight for." He said it in what sounded like the parody of a snooty voice, nasal and silly.

Eida choked up. "You can't… you can't just go around killing people like that. If Hazik knew you were imitating him like that…"

"It's no problem," Jix said, with a snort. "What is a problem, is politics. Everyone else on the Council wants him to try so he can fail so that they can, erm, not talk to him? They kinda don't get along about the idea of working with you Temple Jedi."

"This seems like it might be wasting valuable time, though," Nima objected.

"We'll be able to start talking tomorrow, and probably get into more of it the day after tomorrow at worst," Jix said.

"But that's forever!" Eida said, with a unnerved expression, slightly manic like she'd been when she was panicking and sleep-deprived earlier."We're on a deadline, emphasis on the dead."

Jix nodded and stepped forward, hand gently resting on her shoulder, clearly ready to withdraw it if she pulled away. Instead, she leaned into it, like a plant towards the sun.

"I'm not sure whether all of us will be okay, but right now I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay, or okay enough for this," Jix whispered, soft and warm.

Nima felt as if she were intruding just by being there, and so she kept silent, though she should tell Master Bell about the fact that all he had to do was act polite and it'd foil this… rather offensive Master.

"Alright. I'm. I'm good," Eida said, stumbling over the words slightly, then taking a deep breath and letting out. "I'm okay now."

"I'm glad," Jix said. "But even if you weren't, I'd still be here."

Eida nodded, then glanced over at Nima. "Should we sneak downstairs and find a way to tell your Master Bell the plan?"

"No," Nima said. "This is all metaphorical. So we just…" she stretched her hand out, and a holographic version of Master Bell's head appeared. Nima was feeling him out, and so, stretching the metaphor, she leaned down towards the ear, tightening the bonds between them, and said, "Master Bell, don't react, but you should be calm with Master Kin, let him lose his cool and show himself unworthy of being here. It's about politics."

'Ah, politics,' Master Bell's voice said, echoing in the room. 'That makes sense. Also, I am not a telepathic expert, but you're doing a good job helping to maintain the space.'

"Jix is helping as well," Nima said, though neither of the other two could hear the rest of the conversation.

'Well, then tell him I am grateful for his help as well.'

"Jix, Master Bell thanks you for the information. Master Bell, perhaps you should present your credentials and, er… set things up for later?"

'Of course, Nima. Thank you. He's driving me up a wall.' The holographic head disappeared.

"What?" Eida asked, staring at Nima. "What was that?"

"This is metaphorical. I've read in Jedi texts that the limitations of such mental spaces are about power and control. With you stabilizing the connection, having an upstairs, a downstairs, having to talk 'out loud' to Master Bell… it's not necessary," Nima said, quietly. So much of learning about the Force was understanding that many of the limitations you placed on yourself didn't have to exist.

"I've taken your advice in asking more about it, but I'd never have thought about that," Jix admitted. "It all feels so real, in my… mind's eye, I guess?"

"It is real, but that's not the same as being physical," Nima said, making a goofy face. "I'm pretty sure I'm saying things you already know."

"Well, sure, but that's not the same as knowing it, is it?" Eida asked. "You can get told something every day you're alive and not believe it."

"This whole place is interesting," Jix said. "What we made together. It's a little like what I remember, and what she remembers, and I assume what you guess?"

"It is," Nima admitted, taking a deep breath. "It's how you see things."

"To tell the truth, we haven't been in the lodge more than a day or two in winter for years," Eida said. "And half the furniture is from years and years ago, long gone."

"That makes sense," Nima said. "Is there anything you need to do now before we go down and see how the meeting is going?"

"Just this," Eida said, and Nima covered her eyes to avoid seeing a kiss that, by the sounds, was rather more than a peck on the lips. Nima was flushing, though a part of her brain was trying to picture it despite her common sense.

Finally, after three eternities, give or take, they finished, and stepped out to see how the argument was going.

"Can I simply give you my credentials and an outline of some of my preliminary thoughts?" Master Bell asked. "We are in different situations." His voice was level, but it was clear from the flames curling around him that he was holding back a good deal of frustration.

Pazol was smirking. "Are we? You are one representative, supposedly, of the Jedi Council. I am one of the Green Jedi Council."

"I can't contact them to ask how things are going and what I should do," Bell pointed out, sharply. "I am at the end of a long stick, in hostile territory. You can walk down and have tea with your colleagues. So of course mine have trusted me with the full authority to negotiate. You know this. I know you are incredibly intelligent, Master Kin. People even in the Jedi Temple talked about your impressive mastery of multiple forms of lightsaber forms and your knowledge of the disreputable corners of the system."

The last comment felt as much an insult as a compliment, and Kin indeed ground his teeth.

"How dare you!"

"How dare I imply that you are very good at fighting criminals?" Master Bell smiled softly. "You don't think I know the miserable and wretched of the galaxy, myself?" Master Bell's flames simmered down even more, and now there was something sly and amused. "It is a valuable thing, to be able to sympathize and understand those who others would overlook or dismiss."

"I don't have to take this!" Master Kin said, brow furrowed. Jix and Eida were holding back laughter, and Nima could feel that Master Bell had hit Kin in some vulnerable place. "I'm going to leave for now, until you--"

"Please, do take these documents," Master Bell said, gesturing as holograms and documents flew through the air in a flutter of flimsiplast. "These ones right here."

Jix was looking at them carefully, no doubt… memorizing them as Master Kin frowned, glanced once at them. "Fine, I will. Goodbye, Master Bell."

And then he was gone.

"...everyone knows Master Kin isn't the most sympathetic person. He has sources in low places, but he'd never befriend them. Or trust them." Jix made a face as he said it, clearly feeling like he was betraying someone's trust.

"Of course not! But… many of them can't be trusted." Eida was frowning, looking one way and then the other as if staring at something, or choosing between something. "But… Jix, you need to tell them what happened here."

"Yes. I do. It's my job," Jix said, stubbornly. "To tell the truth."

"Is he truly gone?" Master Bell asked.

"Yes." Jix looked around. "We should leave soon."

"Feel free to contact Eida at any time if we need to set up another meeting." She was trying to sound as professional as possible, but all she could think of was that she could sort of see what Eida saw in him, and it was sweet watching the two together… if one ignored the 'making out.'

"Got it!" Jix disappeared.

Eida nodded, and disappeared herself, or rather untangled herself from their minds. Leaving her and Master Bell, in a room they barely knew. Metaphorically speaking.

"It was very impressive, putting all of this together." Master Bell's voice was as light as a balloon, drifting away from all of the topics Nima wanted to bring up. "You've progressed very fast, except I bet it wasn't progress the way people assume."

"No. It's about knowing what you can do and doing it," Nima admitted. There wasn't a technique, not really, to it once you'd figured out how to visualize and hold onto a visualization. After that it was imagination and attunement with the will of the Force.

"And then doing it consistently." Bell smirked. "That's what they pay the Jedi the amazing salary for."

Nima blinked, "But they don't… oh. Right."

"My jokes aren't that bad." Bell shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Well, Nima, so do you think Master Kin's going to be back?"

"I hope not." Nima tried to see the best in everyone, or at least understand where they were coming from. Even Anakin… no, she didn't want to think about Anakin. Those she had the hardest time understanding she tried to think of the least. But she couldn't stand Master Kin. "Has he really done so much good?"

"Honestly, yes. He's done plenty of harm, but I can hardly blame him in not wanting to work with scum, considering my own beliefs." Bell snorted. "I find that people are sometimes too quick to cut deals with the grimiest people in the galaxy. There's a reason why we're barely working with Shrike and refusing to reach out to Vorru. But even then I worry about what will happen in the aftermath. If he's off to the side, could he be waiting to clean up once the board is cleared?"

Nima bit her lip, wanting to burst out with some optimistic prediction, but not sure whether it was the right thing to do. The truth was, that seemed entirely like the Vorru she had heard of. Shrike and him were birds of a feather. "We can only do our best, Master." Nima's voice was soft, aware of how little comfort her words themselves would bring.

"You should be able to work with Han, we need to figure out where the factory is, and the negotiations are liable to be slow."

******

"Great! Are you ready to leave now?" Han asked, bouncing around a little as he walked. He was dressed in clothes that smelled washed, but were badly wrinkled, as if he'd just throw them into a pile and then taken them from it.

...which perhaps he'd done. By his side was Dewlanna, who was as carefully groomed as ever. She was looking at the wrinkles in his clothes disapprovingly. "I promise I raised him better," Dewlanna roared, in Shyriiwook of course.

"What? Oh? My clothes? Well, they're clean, aren't they? Who cares about a few wrinkles." Han snorted and shrugged.

"Girls do," Dewlanna said. Less because it was always true, and more because…

Han's eyes darted to Nima for a moment in what would have been a subtle maneuver if Nima was half-blind and lacked empathic powers. He flushed scarlet and then began trying to unwrinkle his clothes with his hands.

Nima kept a straight face as they walked through a door, to find that there were three kids waiting. One about as young as Han, one a year or so older than Nima, and one who looked like she was getting closer to being an adult. The last one was a skinny girl, with tan skin that was starting to pale from being cooped up, and brown hair in thick braids that reminded Nima of tentacles. She was dressed in spacer's clothes, a brown shirt that covered the arms without hanging too much, and dark pants, the better to not show any stains or get in the way. She spoke first, "I heard the whole thing outside, and it's true. You're scruffy, like a nerf herder. Or a… what do the stories always call them?" She snapped her fingers at the youngest of them, like you would at a pet about to do a trick.

"Raggamufin?" the boy Han's age offered, adjusting his glasses. He was dressed like he was someone's little angel, in a bright red shirt and blue shorts.

"Ha, nerd," the third one said. Nima wasn't sure who they were, precisely, because of the dash of whiskers on their face. Either way, they were dressed like the boy's older, poorer cousin. The clothing was baggier as well, hiding their figure, whatever that is.

"Well, it's a useful thing, dontcha think?" Han asked, with a wave of his hand. "Nima, this is Kayli, Veebee, and Lyle." He gestured from oldest to youngest.

"It's nice to meet you." Nima smiled at each of them in turn. "We're going to be working together, right?"

"Yup." Kayli said, with a wave. "We have to sneak around, but that cute Jedi friend of yours, Ekria, fixed up a one way microphone, so that you can hear what we're saying, without revealing your location even if they get all of us. So, we're gonna be doin' some hard work today, and tonight, finding out some of where the whole network of drugs to treat the plague's coming from."

"That's about it, yeah." Han nodded firmly, gesturing to the group. "You'll have to do it tonight, because even with all the jumping and running around you do…"

Nima got the drift. The security was getting tighter and tighter, and she had no way to hide in the light of the day, not when she was leaping from building to building. Perhaps she could get away with it normally, but in a tense city where she'd already led everyone through a chase?

She needed the cover of night… unless she went with them without any of her weapons and her Riders' boots.

So, she needed the cover of night.

"I get it. And, it's good to meet all of you. Why don't we talk a little about what we'll be doing and what we each bring to the table?"

"Well then," Kylie said. "I'm quick, and I know a lot of funny accents, and I once stabbed someone. And of course, there's street smarts."

"Says the girl from the farmlands of Corellia," Veebee said, with an artfully raised eyebrow.

"Hey, you want to get closer to me and say that?"

Han gulped. "Er, everyone, we're all… working… together."

"Hey, I'm not in it for your revolution," Kylie said, gesturing at Nima. "Or for you, Han. Yer a good kid, but I'm in this because I think you have your eye on the main chance, and I think we'll wind up rich and--"

"Are you really so bad at lying about how cold and mercenary you are?" Lyle asked.

"Can it, egghead."

Nima figured this would be a long few days. On the other hand, she really did think she could come to befriend these people too.

******

"Boy, this smells like a bantha's butthole," Kylie groaned.

"It is a private-access sewer line. Of course it does." Lyle sounded smug enough that Nima almost understood the 'Can it, egghead' that followed.

"Oh, and how do you know what that smells like?" Veedee asked. "You know what they say about farmers and--"

"That's farmboys, not farmgirls," Kylie corrected.

"Could have fooled me." She could imagine Veedee's grin, and the habit they had of scratching at the whiskers whenever it was clear they were in a good mood.

So, perhaps instead of trying to befriend them she was trying to tune them out as she slipped over the side of two buildings dangerously close together. The streets were dead, other than the protests in the distance, and there were more CorSec officers now than there had ever been before. She knew a lot more about their movements than she did before, but she'd been told by Master Bell that she shouldn't necessarily trust that Horn knew everything. After all, he wasn't entirely trusted by CorSec themselves. They were even right not to trust him.

The city was grey and dead, and she thought of Hannah and Katarina to tune out an argument that had quickly devolved into the scatalogical and the vaguely sexual in a way that Nima didn't want to interrogate or even know about.

She hoped Hannah was having a good time. She imagined Hannah, brushing back her hair and smirking at Nima's concern, her arrogance worn better than it had been years ago. She imagined what Hannah would do here. She'd have overawed at least some of the kids and annoyed some of the others. She could be remarkably charming when she wanted to be… and remarkably frustrating. Katarina for her part wouldn't connect well with the kids, but Nima could imagine her standing up for the weak and helpless nevertheless. There was a power in being able to protect even people you couldn't empathize with.

She should--

Tune back into the talking, as they'd made it through the sewers.

It was not a lovely night at all, not until the moon finally peaked out beneath the clouds sometime after ten. By then Nima had been moving from building to building for a while. Nobody that was a dealer of the plague-stopping drug was some typical holovid gang-banger. Some of them dressed sharply in suits, and even the rattier looking ones only seemed like criminals if you thought poor meant criminal. Nima didn't.

There were a few tattoos, a few scars, but the men and women were all appropriately dressed for where they were selling, whether it was the clean streets of the Hightown district, or the grubby side-alleys of the Kicks, as they were called, just next-door to the protests, which seemed unwilling to deal with the Plague Rats… yet.

It was tedious work, and it dragged into a second day, where Nima joined them for at least part of the way, going through a series of vile-smelling shortcuts in broad daylight to get to where she could help out.

By that afternoon, she'd gotten used to holding her nose closed and blinking away the watering of her eyes, and she'd also at least managed to be friendly with everyone, for all that she didn't really understand them.

It wasn't hard to smile, meet people's eyes, and laugh when the jokes were funny, smile when they weren't. Nima knew she was operating on instinct more than anything else, but she kept it up, hoping that things would get better if she did. Certainly, there was no escalation possible in terms of quarantine procedures, other than closing down the entire city to traffic. They were nearly at that point, but there were hundreds, even thousands, of deaths in other cities by now. Fewer than in Coronet City, but the death toll was rapidly approaching five-digits, and even if a cure was created now, it wouldn't be enough to prevent that.

Putting numbers on the dead was easier than thinking about the feeling she got, that there were people in desperate pain behind the barriers of one building quarantine after another. She could sense them, she could know that they had no hope, and that a treatment to their problems was beneath a grocery store, which was even more empty the second time she walked its polished floors.

The world felt like it was shrinking around her, yet she was covering quite a lot of ground. It was just that it seemed to recede behind her as she moved forward. It was easy to ignore the sights, the sounds, to close everything up and examine it all as nothing more than a web. They were beginning to get a picture of where the factory might be… and it was hard to credit.

LiphCo was the premier medical corporation on Corellia. They of course couldn't hold a candle to many of the galactic corporations, but they did a good business buying medical supplies cheap and selling them dear, and otherwise… doing all of the things a corporation did, to believe Master Bell. Nima didn't know what they were, but she suspected that they were underhanded.

What didn't make sense was, even if it was through underhanded means, why wouldn't LiphCo simply claim that they were also manufacturing some of the cure? Why would they work through a gang, when there were all sorts of other ways to get what they wanted? It didn't quite make sense, but the evidence was quite clear: they seemed to be coming and going from that building. Was that where the Jedi was being held?

There were also other mysteries, such as what Kylie really thought, beneath her rather gross jokes and affected cynicism. Nima had not particularly wanted to know about the time a drunk man has peed on one of the most powerful mobsters on the planet Elaria, or how he'd managed to escape with his life in exchange for information on an underground betting ring. She certainly didn't smile at Kylie's rather explicit sound effects.

Lyle tried to answer it for her, at a break for lunch on the second day. "You've been wondering what's with Kylie?"

"It is good to see you too, Lyle. Are you okay? I know that that last encounter was stressful…"

"I'm used to being threatened. And they gave me a number, and a sample, did they not?" Lyle was clearly bluffing, from the twitching of his eye and the beating of his heart, but Nima suspected that he wouldn't be glad to see her seeing through him.

"Yeah. I'm just here to watch. You're the ones with the experience." Nima smiled, knowing that humility could be useful as a social tool, especially when it's completely correct. Nima had nothing else to do, or she might have just trusted them outright. Certainly, she was no good at sneaking around, hiding in dark corners, or so on.

She thought maybe she'd get better if she practiced, and she had, but she already saw that she didn't have the temperament for it. If you loved something, or even liked it, you could get through the stress and self-doubt to get to the bottom of it and learn to be great at it. If you hated it, if it made your skin crawl, then you only got good at it if you were desperate and were forced to work at it.

...at least, that was Nima's experience. She'd had to try with her writing for the articles she'd worked on, and in theory she might get slightly better at it sometime in the next few decades.

"Well, Kylie, do you know about her writing?"

"No, and if she doesn't want me to know, then maybe I shouldn't hear this." Nima smiled as she said it, to remove the sting. "Not everyone wants to be known, or appreciates it."

"Well, but, you have to hear about her diary. You really do. It's got beheadings, and revolutions, and a baffling switch from monarchism to, I dunno, some sort of dictatorship but not the Diktat, to democracy, to rule by a clique of intellectuals, to… if I was a year old for every time she'd switched politics in the last three years, I'd be able to drink, Tyruti."

"All the same, I'll let her talk about it, or not. It's her life, and--"

Nima paused because Kylie was coming over there.

"What are you talking about, Egghead, Jedi?" Kylie looked both of them over as she leaned against the wall of the alley, sandwich in hand.

"I was trying to tell her about all of your deep, dark secrets, but Nima here just said that if you wanted to tell her, you could yourself." Lyle smirked, no doubt at the moment of shock in Kylie's face, and then gratitude quickly squashed.

"If we weren't on a job, I'd find a toilet and show you what you're missing by skipping school."

Nima watched as they laughed and yet also half-fought, and decided she didn't get them and might never do so. What did schools have to do with toilets? What did… a lot of things have to do with anything?

If Katarina was here, they could have been confused, together, if Hannah…

Nima, you should head back soon, Bell's mental voice said, echoing a little.

What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong. But we've set up the date for the meeting. It's tomorrow, and then after that we have to raid the secret factory. So you should probably get back here to talk it through… and get some actual sleep. We've gotten as much as we can in the time we have.

They don't have that long left. Against a planet's population, tens of thousands is very little, but considering its spread, the Diktat, everyone, would soon lose any shred of control they had left of the situation if nothing was done.

Nima had to get involved again, Bell had to stop this… they had to get to the bottom of everything. And fast.

Negotiation Is Difficult. What Does Nima Focus On?

[] Chipping in the effort to convince the Corellian Jedi to flee the planet when they get the chance.
[] Trying to build bonds of amity and friendship is more important than any specific agreement.
[] Try to convince Master Bell that perhaps they won't accept anything but staying on planet, despite this being… probably a bad idea long-term. Maybe.
[] Try to get their help in going after the Diktat or figuring out the origin of the plague.
[] Grill them about what happened to the last team. It's known that they got into contact with the Green Jedi and were caught… why?

The Raid (Choose 3)

Nima can't singlehandedly make things go bad or good, it's its own plan, increasingly complicated and outside her wheelhouse. But you the voters can choose a few things that definitely go right. Will *all* of the things you don't choose go wrong? Well, that's for the dice to decide, but they might well all go wrong, yes.

[] They do find evidence as to where the captured Jedi is being kept.
[] They find information about connections between the Diktat and the Plague Rats.
[] They find a distribution list, and thus are more likely to be able to roll up a lot of the human network behind it all.
[] They capture a large portion, though not all, of the 'treatment' intact.
[] Information about the raid is able to be kept under wraps to some small degree, and so it doesn't foul any future attempts to capture the Official Treatment underneath the store.
[] They manage to get several relatively high-ranking personnel alive. Not talking, but there are ways. (Nima has munchfungus and she will use it.)
[] The operation manages to at least get through the first layer of security fast enough not to be bogged down in a killing field… however well or poorly the rest of the attack goes.
[] Some of the research isn't wiped from the holo-drives before they get to it. It's very interesting research indeed.

******

A/N: Not my favorite update, but I think it works! So! Also, if you notice any tense troubles, please share and I'll fix them up.