Chapter 36 (Patreon)

“Lord Sidious.” The hologram of a distinguished man with a neatly trimmed beard dropped to one knee as the connection with his Master stabilized.

“Lord Tyranus,” the figure completely concealed beneath a black robe replied with a nod.

“The dark Force-sensitive trained in Force concealment has been sent to our acquaintance’s Guild. Everything went smoothly. I’ve just forwarded you all the data on the acklay and the corpses.”

“Good. Briefly—what do you make of the samples?” Whatever else Sidious might have thought of Dooku, he had a high opinion of the Count’s intellect, so his assessment genuinely interested him.

“The animal carries only residual traces of the Force that altered it. The corpses are saturated with it and continue to exist through it, but in neither case is there any trace of the serenity of the Light or the passions of the Dark. The Force there feels impersonal, almost lifeless. All I sense is an impression of precise forms, perfect geometry, and elegant mathematical formulae. The zombies, in addition, carry a sense of hunger and an inexplicable cold. But unlike the... acklay, they do not eat.”

At the mention of the animal, the Sith Lord felt a wave of anger and dislike from Tyranus.

“The creature was extremely troublesome to feed,” the Count of Serenno said with a grimace. “According to the smuggler who sold it, a little girl—the sorcerer’s daughter—was the one who worked on it. I suspect the young witch made some kind of mistake, because the beast would eat nothing but plant matter. I was present for one of its feedings. It was... tedious.”

Palpatine allowed himself a faint smile. He knew that, during that particular feeding, the beast had broken free of its restraints and tried to tear apart the ones responsible for upsetting it—the Count among them. His apprentice had been forced to put in some real effort to subdue the acklay without killing it. In the back of his mind, Sidious noted that the whole situation was very much in the finest tradition of dark-elven training: dangerous, potentially lethal, and impossible to solve through simple brute force.

Yes, the Chancellor had found Vivec’s works on training young mages and sorcerers. Some of the books were available only in print and had to be ordered from Jabiim, which his people had done, making him the owner of The Mentor’s Burden: Principles of Upbringing, the Nature of Relationships, and Methods of Influence. Vivec frequently cited the works of a certain Rung, quoting him in language that was often vicious and cutting.

Unfortunately, the works of the “ancient orc” could only be read in person at the Guild library. This particular author had been designated “not for distribution” by the head of the JMG himself, Siith’khara’Dziha—which, frankly, only made Palpatine more curious. So he had already sent a trusted agent to copy the book.

I’ll have to get it printed properly, the Sith thought. He had grown rather fond of this archaic way of storing information. There was something satisfying about the rustle of pages and the weight of a physical book.

“The zombies, on the other hand, are remarkably calm. They simply watch the living, and if you meet their eyes, they inspire terror—extremely effective against the weak-willed. Every biological process in a reanimated corpse has stopped; they don’t even decay. The dead brain sends out impulses through the Force, and the Force drives the muscles... I’m genuinely surprised this spell isn’t part of Sith sorcery.”

The Master and apprentice spoke for a while longer before ending the call. Both had plenty of other matters demanding their attention besides a bizarre animal and a collection of walking corpses recovered near one of the entry points to a hyperlane—the very one the captured Hammerhead had used.

This new kind of Force-user interested them both. Each was considering what use could be made of the mages—and how to keep them from interfering with his own plans.

A teacher again. Imagine that. I never thought I’d come back to this after so many years. Teaching one sentient or even a group was one thing, but running an entire school... I remember always wondering why the headmaster of the institution where I once worked had such a difficult personality. Now I understood the man. Not completely, of course—the half-elf had held the position for two hundred years. Hardly comparable. The worst part was that it would still be quite a while before anyone capable of replacing me appeared.

It wasn’t even about knowledge or personal power, though both were necessary. The real issue was authority, which, as I was surprised to discover, rested on more than just my skill as a sorcerer. Old habits die hard: back on the Turtle, an experienced mage was automatically someone of consequence. So I took the students’ respectful attitude for granted until I happened to overhear a group of newcomers discussing yours truly in all his magnificence. And, come to think of it, their reasoning was perfectly sound. The Director was friends with both the ruler of the planet and the head of Internal Security. He was welcome in the Jedi Temple and, according to rumor, casually chatted with members of their Council. He went to the opera with the Supreme Chancellor, and in the evenings the Chancellor himself sometimes dropped by to visit him without so much as a security detail.

Then there was the outright nonsense, which I mostly remembered with amusement. Depending on the version, I was actually some ancient Sith who had decided to make peace with the Jedi, was playing both them and the Chancellor for fools, or had outright subjugated the leadership of the Order and the Republic so they wouldn’t interfere while I raised an army of Force-sensitives.

They even had arguments that sounded almost convincing. There were just as many Jabiimites studying at the Academy as there were fee-paying students, and the locals weren’t exactly eager to mingle with the newcomers. The planet already had around twenty Mando, tirelessly drilling the Nimbus special forces, the planetary defense troops, and the boarding units of our little fleet. A Gungan enclave was being built at full speed, populated mostly by veterans of every war Naboo had seen and their families. And let me tell you, those guys were genuinely tough bastards. Covered in scars, speaking almost entirely in profanity and their own military slang. More than anything in the galaxy, they loved their families, their spears, their boomers, and cursing “that idiot Binks.” So the conspiracy theorists—or people who simply wanted a good laugh—eventually concluded that we were preparing an underwater military contingent as well.

Where did all that information come from? Rumors and word of mouth, mostly. We weren’t exactly hiding any of it. We were training highly specialized mages whose schedules were so packed they barely had time for idle conversation—getting their work done and catching a decent night’s sleep was hard enough. Improving combat readiness wasn’t a secret either. Every state did that from time to time. And the Gungans had simply moved here permanently. It just so happened that the ones most eager to put the Naboo humans behind them were those who had fought against their mercenaries—especially since Koit’s recruitment campaign made a point of mentioning that we knew how to heal people here...

Most sensible sentients could, of course, compare the scale of the galaxy to Jabiim and recognize the wilder theories for what they were: the eternal student urge to have a good laugh. But there were also those who sent dispatches that amounted to outright panicked screaming. We neither intercepted nor censored student mail. I simply saw no point in it, so I only learned that one particular idiot had taken my supposed “conspiracy against the Republic” seriously when Master Rancisis told me about it in person.

More precisely, I learned it from Master Rancisis, Master Tholme, Aayla Secura, and some Weequay, all of whom walked into my office together after Suti informed me of their arrival.

Or, to be completely precise, I learned it from an absolutely delighted Master Rancisis, whose very first words were, “Master Siith, hello! Quickly, show me your army of four-assed rancors and krayt dragons!” followed by that hissing laugh of his, while the other three stood behind him wearing equally crooked smiles.

“Good to see you, Master,” I said with a polite but puzzled smile. “And you as well, Master Tholme, Padawan Secura, and...”

“Master Sora Bulq,” the Weequay supplied with a neutral nod.

“Aayla is a Knight now,” Tholme said with a gentle smile, while the blue-skinned Twi’lek lifted her chin just a little.

“Congratulations, Knight Secura,” I said, making my smile as gentle as I could. “Honored Jedi—caf? Herbal brew? Suti will arrange everything.”

I nodded toward the assistant standing behind them and, once everyone had settled on their drinks, returned to the beginning of the conversation.

“Master Rancisis, could you elaborate on this army of rancors and everything else?”

Once I figured out what was going on—and even read the complaint filed against me that the Order had received through the Chancellor’s office—I actually laughed. The whole thing sounded like complete nonsense, especially considering that the Academy had ten people sent there on the head of the Republic’s behalf, one of whom was obviously security, and I spoke with him fairly often. I hadn’t noticed so much as a hint that the Chancellor was unhappy with Jabiim or the JMG.

“The thing is, Master Siith, the head of the Republic has personally departed for negotiations... in one of the outlying systems. The situation there is tense, and the Chancellor decided that his presence, together with our diplomats, might help defuse the conflict before it escalates,” the Master explained, winding his beard around one claw. “We can’t contact the diplomatic mission at the moment, so the Council decided to combine business with pleasure: send us to look into the information we received, and at the same time ask you to heal one of our fellow Jedi.”

“I see...” I drawled, reading the data from several tracking wards that had been triggered by an “unregistered visitor.” “Tell me, Master, would your fellow Jedi happen to be a white-haired woman who likes staying out of sight, uses a Force technique that lets her turn invisible, and is most likely suffering from an acute case of curiosity?”

“Ahem... no,” the Jedi replied, then immediately corrected himself. “Or rather, she is a Jedi too, but she isn’t the one who needs healing. Only... how do you know about her? Master Kuro is supposed to be on Coruscant right now...”

Without a word, I created a projection above my desk. The disturbance in the magical currents made the Weequay and Secura tense, while Tholme merely raised an eyebrow and the Thisspiasian tilted his head slightly, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

“A Force illusion,” Sora Bulq commented as the image appeared.

“I suppose you could call it that,” I said, scratching the back of my head. Then I started narrating what we were looking at. “Those are the ceiling beams in one of the artifact-making classrooms in the academic block. And that is, presumably, your fellow Jedi’s butt. Eight out of ten, by the way, in my humble opinion.”

The three-dimensional image did indeed show a woman perched high above, staring intently at something below. The classroom occupied what had once been a factory workshop—a vast space with towering ceilings and long metal beams running beneath the roof, one of which the woman was sitting on. I had divided the room into individual sections, one for each student, giving everyone plenty of space both for the necessary equipment and for any... incidents. The sections themselves were separated by waist-high partitions that merely marked out each student’s area; the actual protection against whatever might go wrong was handled by energy shields.

“Master Siith, did you choose that angle on purpose?” Knight Secura asked, with a very noticeable edge of irony.

“No! I swear!” I said, pressing a hand to my chest. “She just keeps moving around. See? Like right now.”

The woman did indeed turn around. Very quickly—I didn’t even notice when a lightsaber hilt appeared in her hand. Her face was quite beautiful, but very stern, and she was staring intently... almost as if she were looking straight at the observation construct. Strange. It was concealed. Could she sense the attention focused on her?

“Well, well...” I murmured as Master Tholme said, “That really is An’ya,” and shifted the observation focus back to the woman’s rear.

A few moments later, the Jedi turned toward the point of observation again. Now that was interesting. I’d heard that people could sometimes feel when they were being watched, but sensing attention through an observation construct? I repeated the experiment several more times, moving the watcher around and getting the same result every time, then reached for my datapad. I needed to write this down. Fascinating effect, but... how exactly was I supposed to test it? Did surveillance and observation spells still bother her when no sentient was actually looking through them? Did the number of observers matter? Or was it because some of the observers were Force-sensitive?

“Whoever you are, prankster,” a low, threatening voice—almost a hiss—came through the illusion, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned my attention back to the woman and, more importantly, remembered that I wasn’t alone in the room. The lady’s blue eyes were fixed on me with a decidedly severe expression. “Whoever you are, I will find you, and then we’re going to have a very thorough conversation about why you find my butt so fascinating.”

With that, her figure blurred and then vanished from sight.

“Master Tholme...” I said reproachfully, giving the Jedi a disapproving look and slowly shaking my head.

“What?” the Jedi asked, genuinely baffled. “Me?”

“Well, obviously,” I said with a mournful nod. “I was busy taking notes on my datapad, Master Rancisis is a Thisspiasian, Master Bulq is a Weequay, and Knight Secura is a woman. Although...” I pretended to think it over.

“No ‘although,’” the Twi’lek cut in quickly, hastily disowning my vile insinuation as the Thisspiasian let out a series of quiet hisses. The girl’s cheeks even darkened slightly with indignation.

“Well then, by process of elimination...” I shifted my gaze back to Tholme, who had already recovered. The Jedi was smiling faintly, clearly appreciating how skillfully I’d managed to shift the blame onto him. Even the usually serious Master Bulq, incidentally, let the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

Once Rancisis had finished laughing, he turned serious. “That woman really is a Jedi. A Jedi Shadow, and one who takes the threat of the Dark Side very seriously. When we spoke with Master Vos—the one who needs healing—she was in the Healing Halls as well. I think that after hearing about the report we mentioned, our colleague decided to lend us a hand.”

“Without telling anyone,” Tholme sighed.

“Tell me, Master Siith, can you locate her using your methods and contact her? I would do it myself, but she’s almost certainly disabled every communication system she has...”

“Let her work,” I said, staring at the Master in confusion and receiving four surprised looks in return. “She’s not violent, is she? She’s not going to start attacking the students?”

“Uh...” Oppo thought for a moment. “She shouldn’t... But what about the security systems? The Guild’s secrets?”

“Oh, come on, Master. What kind of security systems would you expect in a school full of young idiots? Surveillance and alarms, that’s it. Otherwise they’d get themselves killed. I’m not stupid enough to station cerberuses on every floor of an academy packed with young people, for example. Those kids are itching for adventure from head to toe—they’d torment the poor dog to death. And as for Guild secrets... Well, she can watch the artifact-makers work. She won’t understand a thing. You’ve got an advanced degree in higher mathematics, don’t you? How much would some random outsider understand from your notes besides a few familiar letters? Although... hold on a second.”

I turned away from the somehow-surprised-again Jedi and tapped my comlink. Rancisis looked slightly stunned as he studied me, while the others glanced at him in confusion.

“Karray, sweetheart.”

“Dad, I’m busy,” came my ward’s brisk voice. “What is it?”

“Oh, look at you, all serious,” I cooed, earning an indignant grumble from the little squirt. “Listen, there’s a Jedi woman wandering around the complex playing hide-and-seek. If you happen to spot her, pretend you didn’t. Don’t invite her to take part in any experiments, don’t offer her money, and absolutely no ‘she climbed onto the table by herself,’ understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. Jedi woman, don’t notice her. Got it. Is that all?”

“That’s all. Sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” the girl said, her voice softening. “Bye. Love you!”

“Love you too,” I muttered quickly and cut the connection. I think I even blushed a little. Well... saying things like that out loud still makes me awkward.

“Master Siith,” Oppo addressed me again. “How did you know about my degree?”

“It’s public information. On your Temple profile,” I said, tapping at the datapad before handing it over to the Thisspiasian.

“Huh. It really is... I’ve never actually looked at this before... Oh, there’s even information about my Master!”

“Ahem...” Tholme coughed.

“Ah, right. I’ll read the rest later,” the Master said with a grin, handing the datapad back to me. “So you really don’t mind Master Kuro playing hide-and-seek around the Guild grounds?”

“For Hecate’s sake, no. We’re not breaking any laws. Well, aside from training an army of Gungans mounted on four-assed underwater rancors,” I allowed myself a laugh, drawing a few smiles from the Jedi. “Honestly, I’d rather she look around and put her mind at ease than sit there feeding her own suspicions.”

“Knowing An’ya, she’ll probably convince herself that anything illegal is just very well hidden,” the Weequay said with a snort. He seemed to like how casually I’d shrugged off having a Jedi snooping around. His eyes looked a little more relaxed now, at least. There was something about him that reminded me of Windu, the Korun.

“We don’t suffer from paranoia. We enjoy it,” I sighed with a shrug. “So, what happened to your wounded man?”

“My former Padawan,” Tholme said. “Jedi Master Quinlan Vos. He’s a Kiffar. On his last mission, he lost an arm and suffered extensive damage to his internal organs. The healers managed to deal with the internal injuries, but the limb*...”

“Right, got it,” I said when it became clear there was nothing more coming, and reached for my datapad. “Kiffar, Kiffar... ah, there we go...”

I spent a few minutes reading up on the near-human species, then remembered that during the vacation I’d scanned several people I’d taken for humans with facial tattoos that looked a lot like Kiffar markings. Maybe that was what they’d been. Either way, I had the data, and the principle of symmetry still applied. Worst case, I could simply accelerate the regeneration and make the Jedi eat like there was no tomorrow. Hook him up to nutrient drips as well. It wouldn’t exactly be pleasant, but a Jedi Master should be able to handle it.

“You didn’t bring any healthy Kiffar with you?” I asked, just to be safe.

“No, Master,” Rancisis replied. “Unfortunately, of everyone currently in the Temple, Quinlan is the only member of that species.”

“You could’ve hired some mercenaries. Or rounded up a few bandits,” I muttered. Honestly, like dealing with children. Dozdrogodul bite them. “All right, there shouldn’t be any problems. If you’re not in too much of a hurry, I suggest we do the procedure tomorrow morning.”

“As you say,” Rancisis replied with a measured nod. I noticed Aayla’s face light up with relief. Even Tholme let out a barely audible breath.

“And in the meantime, if you’re not tired, how about a little tour?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” the Thisspiasian said with a smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Show us your army for conquering the Republic!”

“How small-minded!” I said, feigning offense. “The entire galaxy! And then my ward will create living four... engine starships out of sarlaccs, and we’ll move on to conquering the whole universe.”

We left the office in good spirits. Rancisis and I were chuckling, while the other Jedi simply smiled. The Weequay still looked a little puzzled, but I figured he’d get used to it.

In one of the corridors, our group ran into one of the students. The young man gave me an almost exaggeratedly respectful nod, then gave the Jedi a strange once-over. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Secura watching him a little more closely than necessary. There was surprise in her expression—and wariness.

He was a rather strange sentient, actually. On the outside he looked completely human, and inside his anatomy matched closely enough as well, but certain quirks in his biology pointed to some kind of shapeshifting chimera only distantly related to humanity. I didn’t particularly care what species he belonged to, but I had been keeping an eye on him. He was quiet and calm, yet during the first theory classes the skepticism in his eyes had been impossible to miss, along with the occasional sharp, sarcastic smile tinged with resentment and anger.

But after the initiation, his first interactions at the aura level, some basic manipulation of unstructured mana, and the creation of his first absurdly primitive spell, all those expressions disappeared. For the first few days afterward, he moved around in something of a daze, quiet and thoughtful. Then he threw himself into his studies with tremendous diligence. He also began treating me with very deliberate respect, and after hearing Karray call me Dad, he started showing her the same deference.

The reasons behind that behavior escaped me, but once I was convinced he wasn’t wasting his time and was actually studying, I stopped watching him so closely and kept only half an eye on him. Same as with the blue-skinned, red-eyed beauty. Another strange girl—quiet by preference, and always steering the conversation away whenever anyone asked about her species or homeworld.

Author’s Note:

This chapter is dedicated to proper CHEESE.

*Quinlan Vos’s injury—let me explain this right away, before the hardcore canon experts bazedeltanol me to death in the comments. The thing is, Siith interfered with the canonical course of events on Ryloth. He changed things. As a result, Aayla never met Vos during the rescue of the Secura heir. Events took a slightly different path from there. The infamous “butterfly effect,” basically. One of the Council’s missions didn’t go the way it would have in canon, and as a result... Well, I think you can figure out the rest. :-)