The Force Wills - Chapter 185 (Patreon)

“Hold your fire!” 

Tesh Hawks, crouched behind the improvised cover provided by General Skywalker, looked at the Jedi as if he had just pronounced his love for a hutt.

There were many things you did or did not do in the face of the Separatist enemy, but not shooting? When an apparent HMP droid was about to turn you into steaming scorched meat?

Any doubt that he had about General Tano’s prediction was swiftly dispelled when the saucer shaped droid gunship came to an abrupt halt before the expansive transparisteel windows of the customs area.

‘All right, now this is one Jedi to never doubt,’ he thought grimly. He had worked under former Jedi General Pong Krell, and now even had an AWOL padawan in his employ. He had seen the Force and their abilities do some crazy things. Padawan Vokoss reacted to things before they happened, but this was on another level…

The HMP droid clearly locked onto Skywalker immediately, who had still not found his own cover.

Its dual twin blaster cannons swiveled unerringly onto the Jedi, and it even aligned its medium laser cannon in the chin for a shot.

Skywalker just stared down the droid gunship, its angled red photoreceptors glowing brighter.

He had seen Krell deflect fusillades of blaster shots from Repeaters with his double saber staffs, but with only a single lightsaber…

The turret barrels glowed, ready to fire… and just crumpled.

No, they were utterly crushed, as if some invisible giant hand had decided to play with gunship as a toy. Where before there had been deadly turrets, it was now just sparking ruined metal and bent barrels.

The HMP actually roared with outrage.

It flared its body, bringing the nose up to reverse and get some range. Clearly falling back on trying to use its two missile launchers to blow the entire customs area to scrap.

Skywalker had other ideas as he raised his left hand.

The gunship moved a few meters back before it was forcibly stopped, as if it had run into an invisible wall.

Its repulsors and engines whined to a high straining note as it clearly fought against Skywalker’s hold.

Hawks looked incredulously at the Jedi. Sure, Jedi telekinesis was old nerf to him. Vokoss occasionally floated around small things for practice, he’s seen her send fully grown men flying. This was an entirely different magnitude of that ability.

The five enemy shuttles surged forward, and their flanks opened up to reveal hidden cannons.

Trust the Separatists to fly around with something like that!

Skywalker didn’t seem phased at all by the incoming threat and simply twitched his left hand.

The gunship began twisting around, its repulsors shrieking in protest as it fought and the droid gunship’s eyes flared in anger, spitting some form of binary invective that was heard even through the transparisteel.

All 14 missiles slung underneath the droid gunship flared their nozzles and leaped forward and into the sky.

Most just streaked off into the far distance to no effect, but six changed angle and actually tracked the enemy shuttles.

They tried to jink and evade, but the surprise was too much.

Hawks had to shield his gaze as five shuttles, no doubt filled with Infinite Coil troopers and droids, exploded under proton hammers.

Some were ripped in half, droids and troops, spilling out and beginning the long journey down to the tibanna gas layer below.

Skywalker gritted his teeth, closing his eyes momentarily.

The gunship flexed, sparks and small explosions rippled along its small central reactor core and cooling surfaces.

Smoke began billowing out the ventral surface and finally Skywalker lowered his hand.

For a moment the gunship just hovered there.

Gravity took its merciless hold.

The gunship fought to maintain altitude but it seemingly didn’t help, it angled up like a whaladon trying to keep its head above the ocean surface and fell out of view, trailing smoke.

Any notion that the Jedi had pulled off a minor miracle was dispelled when the both doors of the customs area opened simultaneously.

Four grenades heralded the Separatists’ counter-attack.

“Grenades!”

The shout was reflexive, many voices among the clones and even the umbarans joined in.

Hawks barely had time to jerk his head in that direction, only to see the grenades in question already flying back into the corridors.

Idiots. Using grenades against a Jedi.

The floor underneath his feet shuddered as the explosives went off in the corridor, hopefully giving the Coil troopers a very bad day.

Hawks didn’t hesitate and started pumping shots as fast as his finger could cycle a trigger into the empty air of the closest doorway. “Shoot through the doors!” he shouted desperately to the umbarans.

Thankfully, his point was vividly shown when one of his shots slammed right into the chest of one of their accursed stealth operatives, who had tried to sneak in invisibly, crouched low. The bolt had caught the human straight in the face, leaving his head a smoking ruin.

Tano reacted first to the greater threat. It was so fast, that between one eyeblink and the next, she was sending two of her lightsabers arcing through the air, whilst she drew two honest to goodness WESTAR blasters.

Hawks flinched as one of those lightsabers stabbed right into another stealth trooper that was just three meters behind him. The trooper’s invisibility, a twi’lek this time, shimmered in failure as he fell forward in death, dropping the large vibroblade they typically carried.

She fired those WESTAR blasters as if they were Repeaters!

A fusillade of fire that scythed through the maw of the other door and sent another stealth trooper crumpling, whilst her second lightsaber saved the life of Cesca.

It intercepted the suddenly visible vibroblade of another stealth trooper, who tried to behead the umbaran leader.

Cesca frantically discharged her rifle point blank into the trooper, sending the twi’lek slumping backward with a hole burned through this chest the size of a fist.

The entire room erupted with blaster fire as all the clones and umbarans let loose with a storm of fire towards the doors.

Tano made a few hand signals as she caught her own lightsabers.

The clones abruptly surged out of their cover and formed two box formations, backs facing inward, blasters outward.

Hawks couldn’t even admire the smooth teamwork, before the unyielding hand of Skywalker grabbed him by the arm, pulling him along whilst the Jedi slashed through the air.

The attack bisected another invisible stealth trooper, sending a very nasty looking devaronian’s two halves slumping forward in death.

“Move! Take this!”

An ear-com unit was deposited into his hand and Hawks wasted no time shoving it into his right ear, as he was escorted into the box formation.

On the other side of the room, the umbarans had also copied the clone troopers, creating a formation that encompassed their unarmed prisoners.

“Starboard side, fire!” Tano’s voice ordered over the tac net.

Every clone began blasting, just in time for a stealth unit to be cut down and a bunch of Coil Enforcer units charged fanatically forward. Hawks frantically shot at the Scourge trooper in their midst, “Push that one away!”

Tano reacted immediately, pushing with her hand forward.

The Scourge died to multiple blaster shots, screaming with ferocity and was blasted off its feet with the Force and flew back into the hallway.

The explosion that followed caught multiple enemy troopers in its radius, sending three into death immediately and two other injured.

“Kriffing suicide bombers,” grumbled a clone trooper.

“Stow the chatter and fight, Spider!” ordered Dozen.

“Formations, advance!” ordered Tano.

Hawks found himself, somehow, almost smoothly integrating with the formation, his blaster up and scanning the sightline sector in front of him. It was very strange, as if… he just knew what to do, as if there was nothing that could go wrong… his confidence surged…

Tano was taking the lead of the first formation, Skywalker took the second formation. Whilst the umbarans, in another amazing miracle, smoothly seemed to integrate into the GAR’s teamwork.

In the hallway another wave of Coil troopers fell on them.

Durasteel panels from the floor and walls ripped themselves off, forming a floating barricade that shielded the advancing clones. Catching the incoming fire, whilst always leaving just enough of a shifting gap for the clones to find targets and shoot.

Hawks drew a bead and pulled the trigger before he could even think about it, acting on a strange instinct, his shot caught a Coil Enforcer straight in the neck.

Then he spotted the distinct bug eyed helmet with two small horns peeking out the back-

Kriffing hell.

He frantically fired in the Coil’s direction, not even caring about hitting the floating cover.

A ripped piece of durasteel shot forward under General Tano’s control and beheaded the Seer.

He heaved a sigh of relief. If that bloody Seer got anyone in its Bind it would’ve made things go south real quick as it meant having to protect and rally around the victim until someone could kill it.

“Droids!”

The call came from the umbarans and the rolling clatter of droideka echoed from the rear flank of the combined formations.

Skywalker made a fantastic leap rearward, surging into the air.

Hawks hated that he couldn’t look at what was going on, instead firing at the line of five advancing B2-ACM droids with the distinctive dark blue livery of the Infinite Coil.

They were pouring rapid fire straight forward into the floating cover that Tano was holding and now she had to rip out more durasteel paneling to replace the old cover - which was starting to glow red hot or even shatter under the weight of fire.

What he wouldn’t give to have his trusty Firepuncher sniper right now, instead he was stuck with this awful Blastech piece of crap that was standard issue for Cloud City security.

It might work well on an organic, but it was spitting against a bantha when facing a B2.

Thankfully, that threat didn’t last long as the armored wookiee in the right side of the formation roared with satisfaction as his bowcaster fired a blue bolt bigger than Hawks’ fist.  

It managed to punch a hole straight through the B2’s head.

Tano surged forward, her lightsabers cutting bottom to top from between the legs of the B2s, moving easily as fast as he’d ever seen Krell manage.

She gestured with her left hand and every piece of cover that was floating in her control shot forward edge first to utterly decimate four more Coil troopers.

A heavy silence settled over the hallway, as everyone waited for more enemy forces or stealth troopers to try their luck.

General Tano eventually raised a fist and gave the standard clone ‘all clear’ hand signal.

“Maintain cover formation,” came her instruction over the com. “Cesca, your ship?”

“Still intact, but under lockdown. Should be easy to slice open.”

“Good, this is where we go our separate ways. Mr Prisa, you will come with us for the moment and we can perhaps even give you a ride home, depending on where that is.”

He thought about it for a moment and nodded. “All right, General. Appreciate the ride. My own exfil plan is probably shot to bantha dung.”

She knelt next to the corpse of a Seer, and carefully used the Force to pull the helmet off. The face it exposed was human, but had the patterned lesions and eyes of the infection.

“Then you and I must have a long chat about Fathom and her soldiers.”

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The Omen hadn’t received a scratch. Thanks to Ursa being on the ball and the ship’s own self-defense weapons. The instant the shield had unexpectedly come on and locked the ship down, she had sealed the hatch and had a minor scuffle in the troop deck with a Coil stealth trooper that Republic Intelligence had given the thoroughly unimaginative title of Striker.

The Striker may have been ‘invisible’, but it didn’t negate his weight. Omen’s own droid intelligence had quickly parsed that it had extra weight, and heard the footsteps where optics registered nothing. It alerted R2 and the astromech used his own internal flamethrower, giving Ursa an easy, bright target for a double tap.

The ship’s turrets had accounted for eight Coil troopers of various types and three B1s.

Anakin, Ursa and Chewie handled the aftermath of settling in the rescued clones, as well as dealing with the actual Cloud City authorities.

“You sure it’s a good idea to be so close, uh, General?” Prisa asked uncertainly. The man had been wary of me ever since I had pulled off my own helmet. He kept a good sabacc face, but it was clear via his emotions that I had somewhat impressed and intimidated him in equal measure, whilst his eyes certainly appreciated the view.

I had three Coil trooper bodies on the troop deck, all partially wrapped in body bags and my senses plunged down into them all the way to the cellular level.

“This infection can’t transmit unless you ingest some of the bodily fluids, and it can’t break the skin barrier, Mr Prisa.”

“And you said you were a Jedi Healer?”

I nodded.

“Good to get some confirmation on that,” Prisa breathed a sigh of relief. “My team has a medic and med droid, but this plague is so far above their head. We’ve just made sure to destroy bodies where possible and go through decon every time we come back to our base.”

“A wise precaution in any event,” I murmured thoughtfully, carefully holding my hand above the head of what Prisa called a Seer.

The plague itself was like nothing I’d ever felt from any disease, though it had characteristics in common with the Blue Shadow Virus. It was a persistent, cold and recursive echo within the Force. It wasn’t dark side corruption or even close to any form of Sith alchemy. It was self-reinforcing and until they had died, the affliction had been rewriting the host on a genetic level.

The cellular and systemic damage should’ve caused them to die already, yet the bodies showed signs of being driven far beyond normal physical limits. There were old wounds that had healed imperfectly and stabilized in ways that gave normal biology the middle finger.

There was also a faint connection between the bodies even in death. It wasn’t exactly within the Force, yet it was adjacent to it? As if the plague had tuned a figurative ‘comlink’ to a different frequency.

The Seer was fascinating to study. There was concentrated plague activity around the brain, nervous system and sensory organs. It neatly explained why that title had been given to it.

“These guys always find you, correct?”

Prisa nodded, “Pointless ambushing them. Vo- I mean, one of my team eventually figured out their senses were tuned way above normal. Not to mention they can use something like the Force to bind and lock someone down. You just become a statue, unable to move, easy prey for a Striker or whoever else they send to take you down.”

The Seer’s neural pathways, at least in this human host, had been heavily modified and were still mildly interacting with this alternate essence I was sensing. The brain was also showing similar signs. Whoever this person had been before the infection, there was no way they would’ve retained a similar personality in the aftermath.

There was also a subtle degeneration in eyes and fine motor nerves, indicating a progressive cost to unlocking and forcing these abilities to manifest in the host.

I moved onto the Striker.

Here the plague was more concentrated in musculature, adrenal systems, and sensory reflex pathways. Physical indicators of enhanced speed, sensory sharpening, and aggressive close-combat capability. The plague’s essence signature was tighter and nothing remotely suggested that the being below me should’ve been able to make itself invisible.

Something that I myself was on the cusp of achieving as a Jedi Shadow, and here was some nobody, infected with a strange plague and voila! Invisibility!

I zipped the bodies closed and gave Prisa a pointed look. The Republic Intelligence ‘contractor’ was practically lounging in one of the trooper alcoves, idly fiddling with his blaster in a way that was more for self-reassurance than achieving anything with it.

“Your RI code?”

Prisa grimaced, “Do you really have to look me up? You can sense I’m not lying.”

“That may be, but there exists training that can allow even a non-Force sensitive to deceive a Jedi.”

He blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Indeed. Now your code, Mr Prisa.”

“Fine. Osk, Three, Zerek, One, Nine, Nen, Resh, Seven, Two…” He trailed off for a moment, frowning. “Grek, Seventy One, Tormi.”

I held up my palm, “M8?”

“Got it, mistress. Interfacing databases.”

Prisa was briefly startled at the voice coming from my armor, looking around confused. It was only when the holo pane of his RI intelligence file appeared above my palm that he flicked a finger in realization. “You’re wearing a droid?”

I nodded, swiping my finger through the holo to scroll and speed read through it.

Tesh Keff Hawks, with no confirmed homeworld, late thirties. Most of his education took place on Coruscant, though the accent and speech clearly didn’t stick or he purposely shed it. Married and then divorced, no indication in the record of who the spouse was. Initially trained in the Republic Judicial Forces, then left in the aftermath of the Naboo Crisis, clearly disgusted by the non-existent showing of the RJF that politics forced in that invasion.

Bounced around the Mid to Outer Rim as a mercenary until the start of the Clone Wars, when he voluntarily enlisted and was tested directly into a Captain’s slot within the 100th Clone Legion. He was then under the command of Jedi General Pong Krell.

Wonderful.

An excellent service record until the Battle of Antine, where Krell’s stupid, single-minded bullrush tactics caused the expected massacre. Hawks stupidly assumed responsibility and was given a court-martial and dishonorably discharged. Political and command level factors were recognized as reducing the severity of the sentence, which would’ve been a firing squad.

Recruited as a deniable asset by Republic Intelligence via intermediary channels involving Baroness Jae Mordant and Lieutenant Bennic Halloren. Tasked with investigating and neutralizing the Separatist-aligned cult known as the Infinite Coil and its leader, Kundri Fathom.

I closed my hand, snuffing the holo out.

“Interesting reading?” Hawks asked drolly.

“You have my respect, Captain.”

He held up his hands, “Just Hawks. Left that rank behind me.”

“We both know that you still deserve it. Pong Krell is currently in a special Jedi prison where he belongs. If anything, you should be reinstated with backpay and an official apology from the GAR and Jedi Council.”

He folded his arms uncomfortably and shook his head. “It’s the past at this point. While I definitely would like the credits at the moment, it’ll just suck me back into the GAR. My company has a job and my people depend on me being there.”

As a general rule, the Republic didn’t hire mercenaries, the clone army was there after all. The CIS usually threw war droids at a problem. It was in the special operations and the murky world of intelligence where those maxims shifted. Where deniability was paramount, it was up to RI and in some cases, even the Jedi Council, to get things done.

Running a mercenary company, where the costs tallied up daily just to keep your force employed, was not easy. RI probably gave them an operational stipend, with mission performance related bonuses, but logistics and tempo was the killer. If there wasn’t a mission to do, a merc company could only sit on its heels and incur costs. That meant that it had to have other income streams, which more than likely came from performing ‘favors’ for the criminal underworld or taking risky loans. That meant stepping on toes and going to the hutts.

I had to wonder just how many compromises Hawks had made just to keep the lights on.

“Very well, Hawks. However, you can at least accept that your dishonorable discharge is amended into an honorable one. You will get the backpay and a veteran pension.”

Hawks twitched and blinked in astonishment. “The Army has a pension? I thought only the Navy had that.”

“I know it’s not easy to see among a sea of clones, but you know you aren’t the only volunteer in the Army?”

“Yes, of course,  I just… It’s easy to forget that,” he said rather lamely.

I could see the weight that Hawks carried on his spirit and I wanted nothing more than to help ease it. It had been unfairly thrust upon him and instead of casting it off, he carried it in a way that had made his life much harder.

“Now with that good news out of the way. Let’s get back to the Infinite Coil. Tell me of their leader.”

Hawks leaned forward resting his arms on his knees, brown eyes becoming shadowed under his brows. “Kundri Fathom is not just a leader in the conventional sense. She is the one who holds the whole thing together. The Infinite Coil was begun by the Separatists, but if you could frankly ask Fathom, she’d tell you they’re just a means to an end. The cult is only aligned with the Separatists when it suits them, but they’re not really fighting the war you know. They’re fighting their own war. Every single one of them is infected with the Shadow Plague. Parasites that change their hosts as you’ve seen. Most people who get it die. The ones who don’t come out stronger, faster and changed. They hear her, in their heads. No matter where they are. She can talk to them and eventually, they stop being themselves.

“Some say she’s Force Sensitive. Others say she’s just a very good liar who figured out how to weaponize a disease. I don’t care which it is. What matters is that the infected stay loyal to her to the death, no matter what order she gives. She doesn’t need speeches most of the time. That she reserves only for the initiation ceremony. Where new members of the Infinite Coil are infected for the first time-”

I held up a hand to pause him. “Can you go into detail of how it’s done?”

He nodded, “I covertly observed one. Fathom has these creatures she calls ‘Messengers’, they’re insect-like, about slightly larger than my hand, multi-limbed, ugly things. Wish I had my holo with me, not really great with describin’ details. They go through this whole elaborate ceremony with members of the Coil watching and moving in perfect unison. Creepy doesn’t begin to describe it. The Messenger insects are released and crawl onto the initiate, where they bite directly into the arm.”

I glanced at the bodies at my feet. “A hive mind. When you fight them, Fathom sees through their eyes? Can command them?”

“I don’t think she goes to that level precisely, most of the time, but she can. Her only goal and motivation as far as I can see, is simple and ugly; spread the plague through any means necessary, no cost is too great or small. She attacks vulnerable worlds caught in the war’s crossfire. Sneaks in, grabs the disillusioned, the hardened survivors, infects them, grows the Coil, moves on. Every planet hit, makes their numbers grow, grants them greater strength and the plague harder to contain. They’re not trying to win this war, they’re using it as cover to build something greater in scope that will outlast it.”

He rubbed his face and briefly massaged his temples. “What else? Oh, as much as she can command herself, she has subordinates to handle the details and logistics. His name is Visser, he runs their field ops. A very capable and dangerous adversary, he has something of a personal code he ascribes to, which is strange considering the plague generally begins to override such things. Then there’s the closest thing they have to a Separatist liaison; Typhon. He’s a super tactical droid who is obsessed with studying the plague and generally sends back reports to the Separatists that everything is running smoother than a derbit’s backside.”

“So they’ll still do the occasional mission to show their supposed loyalty, which is what this whole mess on Cloud City was about,” I mused.

“Sure,” he shrugged ruefully. “Infinite Coil has plundered their target worlds extensively to finance their continued operations. I’m sure they’re working hard to get to the point where they can cut the cord, but they still need military hardware and the easiest source is the Separatists. I dread the day they can become independent, because you can bet your lightsabers, Fathom’s first targets will be to infect the rich, powerful and influential on both sides.”

“How sure are you of that?”

“Hardly set in duracrete, but it’s the next logical step to promote the spread of the plague.”

It would be especially bad if the whole ceremonial nature of the infection was discarded. I could already imagine an infiltrator drone, carrying the Messenger parasite, flying through the Coruscant sky, cutting its way into any senator, CEO or elite’s domicile during the night. Exactly like Zam Wessel attempted to use kouhun insects on Padme whilst she slept.

One bite and it would all be over. The only initial issue I could see was the very obvious external patterning that the infection caused in the skin of the host, as well as the changes to eye pigmentation. However, if this plague was a vector for a hive mind, carrying out targeted changes to the host organism to enhance it, then it could just as well decide to not make it externally obvious. The external signs of infection were intentional, a decision. They were patterns and expressions. An artistic expression of intent from the hive mind.

“Republic Intelligence is aware of your assessment?” I asked carefully.

“I sent it up the chain through Halloren and Mordant. You’d have to take it up with them if there’s any redactions.”

“M8?” I prompted.

“Scanning database, mistress… Nothing on the nature of the Shadow Plague spread is in any file or record that I can access.”

“Son of a hutt,” Hawks scowled. “Then again, do you even have full access to RI?”

“No,” I fibbed. Officially, as a Jedi General, my confidential access had grown by three levels. However, through Yoda and Fulcrum, I had the full theoretical picture that Palpatine allowed the Jedi Council to have. “We’ll assume that Mordant and Halloren have another compartmentalized code level which describes the threat in full. The Jedi will pursue the investigation anyway. The Shadow Plague by its very nature and as a weaponized vector for control is within our mandate.”

“RI will argue that it can’t be public. If word got out it would be chaos on a scale that’s scarcely imaginable.”

I raised a brow at him, “Naturally. It might not seem like it, Hawks, but Jedi can do subtlety when the situation calls for it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, releasing a tense breath. “That’s… good to know. I’ve been tracking Fathom for months, disrupting her operations where I can, but it hardly feels like any headway is being made. That my team and I are the only things standing in her way.”

“Well, then move forward with this in mind, Hawks. You are no longer alone in this fight.”

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“Your thoughts?”    

Ursa, Anakin, Chewie and myself were squeezed into the Omen’s main cabin on the upper deck. It was the only real privacy we had at the moment to discuss the very sensitive response that Fulcrum could give to this hidden crisis.

“That I want to give whichever director at RI is responsible for this mess a visit,” Anakin said forebodingly. “Do you think the Council knows?”

“Now that is the question, and one I intend to take to Yoda personally. I can understand wanting to keep the Shadow Plague quiet. In most respects, it would be even more frightening than the Blue Shadow Virus. It’s not just death, it’s the complete loss of freedom, agency and will. It’s assimilation. It’s a corruption of the Force itself in the infected and that alone gives us a good indication of who we are actually dealing with here.”

Anakin closed his eyes, his lips pursed, “Abeloth.”

Ursa frowned, “Who is Abeloth?”

“All you need to know is that she is an extremely powerful entity who is currently imprisoned. She does not like that state of affairs and that which is keeping her contained is prone to fluctuation. It lets her reach out and begin to influence the galaxy. The Shadow Plague is precisely the sort of tool that she could sneak out of her prison. It’s possible that Fathom is just a mouthpiece for Abeloth. If the Infinite Coil gains enough power and influence, they may conspire to disrupt the prison further and with the fullness of time, even destroy it.” I gave Ursa and Chewie a dark look to convey the gravity of my words. “Understand that Abeloth is a threat that makes Palpatine look like a youngling playing with toys in a galactic playground. She is that powerful and wants to remake all life in this galaxy and beyond to her own image and desires.”

Chewie made a low, trilling tone. “That is difficult to imagine, Ahsoka.”

“It is, but it’s the defining threat that we will have to deal with in our lifetime, if things go on as they are. The Infinite Coil is therefore going to become a priority issue for Fulcrum to deal with. Abeloth cannot be released before we are ready.”

“All right. What concrete measures can we take in the short term?” Ursa asked.

“If I’m reading things correctly, Hawks’ Zero Company is operating on a budget that barely keeps them solvent. They have loan debt to the hutts and it's forcing them to effectively become mercs for various criminal factions to slowly pay it off. I’m not going to outright pay that debt, but I can hire Zero Company in a private capacity to do some Fulcrum ops.”

“Dangerous,” Anakin shook his head. “RI is assuredly keeping a close eye and ear within Zero Company. Sure, they’ll turn a blind eye to Hawks working for various syndicates, but Fulcrum ops will be immediately suspect.”

“Leading RI by the nose is something HK, Taria and myself are quite proficient in by now, Skyguy. Trust that any operation I send to Zero Company will look exactly as it needs to. With them in better financial shape, they can afford to decline performing favors for the syndicates. If any criminals object or target ZC, then we’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe so they can continue to take the fight to the Coil.”

“We should also make sure to visit their base of operations,” Anakin suggested. “If we’re going to be a ‘client’, we must make sure that they’re capable and address any equipment issues they may have.”

“Good idea. We can visit under the guise of the Jedi investigation into the Shadow Plague. I’ve learned from Hawks that Zero Company is based in the Ring of Kafrene, three days coreward from Bespin. Conqueror should be done with her repairs by tomorrow, she will come to Bespin and pick us and the 501st survivors up. I will send Hawks back home with the Omen, using a HK-HP in the pilot seat. We can move on from there.”

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It wasn’t long until we had a different kind of company knocking on our door.

The Baron Administrator of Cloud City himself.

“Generals Skywalker and Tano, such an honor to have such esteemed guests and clients to my humble home in the sky.”

Baron Dres Riskoss bowed with an exaggerated flare. He was a human, tall and elegantly built, with the kind of symmetrical features to a face that while very handsome, clearly hinted that he had genetic and cosmetic work done on himself. Dark hair kept stylishly short, pale olive skin, and cunning hazel eyes that missed very little. He was dressed for his social station; tunic, tight pants, in deep blues and grays, calf high boots so glossy that you could probably use them as a mirror in a pinch, with a half-cloak partially draped over his left shoulder, falling to his knees, which neatly hid his entire left arm from view. On his left chest was a single tasteful brooch holding a beautiful faceted ur-diamond set in what looked like a bed of smaller emeralds. Everything about him was deliberate and expensive, without crossing the line into ostentatious.

“Baron Riskoss,” Anakin took the lead and we bowed in return. “Thank you for being so understanding and not kicking us off your station.”

“Of course, of course, don’t mention it at all, General,” Riskoss returned amiably. “We, at Cloud City, strive to be accommodating to all our guests. It’s a failure on our part that led to the Separatists managing to infiltrate and land their forces at all. You can rest assured that we have identified the security breach that was the cause and dealt with it.”

Riskoss said it all with a sharp amusement, yet his tone left no room for interpretation on how he had dealt with that problem, permanently and with the default response to problems here; defenestration straight down into the heart of the deep layers of the gas giant. 

“It’s I who should be thanking you both. The damage incurred was a single hallway, when it could’ve been so much worse. I shudder to look at the scan logs. The Separatists had enough firepower in those shuttles to send Cloud City into the heart of Bespin. They were here for far more than just ambushing your prisoner exchange.”

“Glad we could be of service,” Anakin smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Now it is my understanding that you have a fair number of troopers aboard that beautiful ship,” he gestured to the Omen with an elegant open handed gesture. “I’m sure they are adequately cared for, but I’m here to open the gates of Cloud City to them and you. After their captivity and ordeal here, the least I could do is offer our hospitality. Figg’s Avenue is teeming with cantinas, shops and stalls that cater to every taste in the Outer Rim. I’ll even provide them with a 200 credit voucher each!”

Anakin gave me a questioning look, to which I just gave a shrug. The Baron had a point in letting the troops have some R&R. Clone psychology meant they could endure a lot more than the average natural-born trooper, but their ‘well of courage’ also needed a refill at some point.

“Very well, Baron. I accept on behalf of my men,” Anakin nodded.

“Excellent!” He clapped twice in a signal and a burly bodyguard that stood over a head taller than Anakin entered the landing bay, carrying a small case that he put down before us. “The credits. If I may make an invitation to you both, the Paradise Atrium is the best lounge in the city and can definitely cater to your palate, General Tano.”

He stared at me with appreciation, even though I was still in my full Mandalorian Jedi beskar plating, yet there was the shield of the gentlemanly courteousness there. I sensed he was the type of charmer that could talk his way into the panties of many women, but respected them too much to go after the unwilling. 

“I may take that invitation, it’s certainly better than the military rations on board the Omen.”

Riskoss gave a theatrical shudder, “I’d like to think my cooks are the best in the sector, General Tano.”

I twisted and lifted off my helmet, giving him a friendly smile, “Then I shall definitely test that claim, Baron.”

His smile grew even wider, “Wonderful. I shall leave you now and please, do you enjoy yourselves.”

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There was no way that I wasn’t going to play tourist while I was here.

The city contained 392 levels, including dedicated platforms for residents and visitors. The upper fifty of which was an actual luxury resort.

The uppermost platform housed the ‘City’, which featured scenic buildings styled in organic cylinder shapes of various sizes. Wide streets, boulevards and various squares meant that you never felt crowded or cramped by the architecture and everyone made sure to respect each other’s space. The predominant color was a marble white, but the late afternoon sun streaming through the upper layers of the gas giant caused a soft earthy brown tone to permeate everywhere.

I passed shops of every description, and paused outside the Yarith Bespin and Pair O’Dice, the two largest casinos in the city that were locked in a permanent competition with each other to attract clientele. The holos and signage was everywhere on the avenue where both establishments faced each other.

Walking down the street, I had to eventually conclude that the Yarith would tempt me the most and get my business. They seemed a tad bit less pretentious, used designs that appealed to my eye and also had holographic eye candy with breathtaking models of many species, male and female, wearing the suggestion of clothing, provocatively taking poses on various gambling implements.

Pair O’Dice was loud, garish, almost bordering on kitsch, and focused itself more on sports betting. Huge holos that were showing pod racing was the only thing that really caught my eye there. Of course, fate would have it that the moment I was looking, Sebulba in his massive signature pod with its constantly thumping engines, was the focus as he streaked through the tight turns of the Vinta Harvest Classic on Malastare.

I was glued to the sight for the remaining three laps until the old dug managed to eke out a last corner victory in spectacular fashion.

‘Skyguy, Sebulba just won the Vinta Harvest,’ I teased him across the Bond.

‘Good for him, kriffing dug,’ he drolled right back.

I sensed he was in a purposefully rustic cantina with most of the 501st survivors, cheering with them as they swapped stories and he filled them in on the various campaigns that had happened in their absence.

The levels immediately below the city platform were focused on spas, various water sports and were predominantly catering for aquatic species. The place boasted using clear, refined water from Bespin’s moons and looked like liquid diamonds in clarity. Just trailing a hand idly through a public fountain felt amazing; the water was perfect in PH and felt ‘soft’. It tempted me fiercely to just go into a spa and surround myself in a jacuzzi equivalent.

I resisted, because I wanted to explore more of the city and losing myself in a spa would waste the time I had.

The area also had long viewports showing endless layers of peach, gold and violet clouds. The soft hum of the city’s countless repulsorlifts was more audible. There was also a surprising amount of laughter and music on these floors. A lot of wealth was on display as well by the various denizens and a lot of security sensors.

Just below the spa levels were the local market and artisan levels.

Here food stalls sold cloud-ray dishes and imported fruit with eye watering prices, second-hand droid parts, handmade jewelry and cheap souvenirs. I immediately purchased a scale replica of the city itself that would be perfect for my Captain’s quarters on Conqueror. It had enough basic tech inside to simulate the city’s lights, a small repulsor to float and the workmanship was sturdy.

It also let me see the children of Cloud City; human, ugnaught and others, chasing each other between the stalls, much to the consternation of their own artisan parents who watched with stern yet loving eyes.

It was such a scene of ordinary life that was brought about in a place that shouldn’t have existed. It felt real, homey, full of creative life and instantly became my favorite part of the station. Especially because I had yet to be approached by anyone for who I was as a Jedi and a ‘war hero’. COMPOR propaganda had no place here.

Here I was just a togruta Jedi in custom Mandalorian armor, which merited a second look, but no more.

I left those levels with reluctance and continued into a public turbolift.

The next level to catch interest was the Tibanna Refinery Overlook. A glassed-in gallery that let visitors watch the mining and refining process from a safe distance.

Glowing automated collection pods that rose from the depths below, pipelines of luminous gas, ugnaught workers in protective gear moving with a practiced efficiency. It was the industrial heart of the city laid out, a living machine. The entire city’s beauty and maintenance was paid for by the dangerous, constant work happening here.

“M8, do me a favor?”

“Yes, mistress?”

“Project for me where the carbonite freezing facilities are.”

My droid intelligence used the palm holo projector, displaying a wireframe of the city, which quickly zoomed into a mid industrial level on the 221st floor.

“Draw me a route towards the central gas processing shaft.”

The red line that appeared quickly brought into context over just what span of distance the duel between Luke and Vader would stretch in another timeline. The latter had played a psychological game of cat and mouse to give time for his Dun Moch to press down.

“Now the closest gas processing vein.”

The view zoomed in and there it was.

The site of the final clash and the moment of revelation of Vader’s identity.

It was so tempting to just go there. The probability line revealed I could even ask Riskoss and he wouldn’t deny me, giving me a small security escort.

I shook my head and closed my left hand, cutting off the holo. It was pure useless nostalgia that had no place anymore and that future was gone.

“Thank you, M8. Let’s go back up.”

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After quickly heading back to the Omen to deposit my shopping, I resumed my exploration and the local time resulted in going to one of the upper city platforms and a place simply called the Sunset Viewing Balcony.

Here I was joined by many tourists who gathered for the occasion, where waiter droids threaded between people and offered discounted wines already poured into tall fluted glasses.

A sunset for Cloud City lasted roughly two standard hours, accounting for various orbital characteristics and the city’s own altitude. A production was made every day out of it.

The entire sky slowly began to turn into deep orange, crimson and a soft purple as the sun sank towards the ephemeral horizon. The city’s lights began to glitter against the darkening clouds.

The quiet, almost reverent crowd of tourists and even some residents watched the scene of beauty in near silence. The gentle wind played across my face and montrals, making a long whining note.

It took almost half an hour before the spell was broken and the first low conversations began again. I found myself sinking into a partial meditation whilst focusing on the roiling, constantly shifting scene before me.

An hour passed in this manner, and the balcony had mostly emptied, except for a few residents who continued to stare. Some were even seated on the floor in meditation. I was not surprised to be approached at this point.

“Beautiful, is it not?”

“Indeed it is, Baron.”  

Riskoss approached from behind and stood next to me, leaning against the hip-height railing. His body turned toward me, but had his head angled at the spectacular view.

“It’s a daily ritual and few are the visitors who can last the entire two hours in complete silence. They talk too much and look too little. You seem to know how to simply watch. Tell me, have you noticed that the color changes with the shifting tibanna density in the upper layers?”

I nodded, “First year planetary physics.” 

“Knowledge distilled in classes rarely compares to actually seeing and experiencing it truly. I suppose as a Jedi, you would truly know. I also observe that lately it seems you Jedi are just rushing between crises in this war. Are you truly off-duty or simply better at stealing these moments than most.”

Well, that certainly seemed to characterize my life ever since the war began. It was the nature of the beast we were fighting.

“I would say that it is the latter. Off-duty is something a Jedi can never truly be, our service and duty can fall on our shoulders at any moment. The only Jedi who can claim it are those who have taken the Barash.”

“Barash?” he asked with a curious, genuine interest.

“A vow to completely refrain from all activities in the Order. Disengaging with the outside world completely and only communing with the Force. It’s mostly done as a measure of atonement, but some just do it to refocus themselves.”

“Interesting, I can respect it but it seems wrong as well. It’s disengaging from life and all it has to give,” he gestured towards the horizon and offered me a half-smile. “I could never imagine myself giving up that view, its beauty, which is also considerably improved by the company one keeps.”

I did not miss that his eyes tracked to me as he said the last part. It was so smoothly delivered, striding the line between gallantry and genuine interest. I let the edges of my mouth curl upward slightly into a smile.

“It’s definitely not for everyone.”

“And from someone who has seen so much of the war, when you see something so peaceful and beautiful, what do you think?”

“That there must be someone alive to appreciate that view. If I had failed earlier today…”

He nodded and said softly, “Everyone in this city owes you and General Skywalker their lives. You will be modest as your Order demands and tell me it’s your duty.”

“It is, and I will only accept one thing from Cloud City and its leader,” I stepped closer before turning towards the view properly, resting my hands on the railing. “That he and those who follow in his seat should remember what was done for it this day. That there may come a day when the Jedi themselves are in need and that they will keep the city gates open for them.”

I could see him take in the words, as well as my polite rebuff of his advances. He smoothly turned to lean on the railing with his hands, mirroring my pose. “I must admit, I can’t imagine a day when your Order would ever need such a thing. Yet, it has been asked, it is within my power, and I will make it so. This should be done with discretion, yes?”

Well, he was very perceptive, and demonstrated one reason why he was the Baron Administrator of a place like Cloud City, who has also managed the not so small task of keeping it neutral. “Indeed, Baron.”

“Consider it done, General Tano.”

“Oh, one more thing, Baron. How much of a gambler are you?”

“I have a dedicated Sabacc table at the Pair O’Dice. Why?”

“A small suggestion, if you wish to keep your seat on Cloud City, perhaps it’s a habit you should tone down a bit.”

He frowned at me, “What?”

“Think of it as a minor bit of foresight from a Jedi. Thank you for sharing this sunset with me. Force be with you, Baron Riskoss.”

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A/N: Details on the true threat emerges and Ahsoka definitely takes the opportunity for R&R. Riskoss was fun character to create, imagining who was the Baron during the Clone Wars and who lost an entire city eventually to Lando Calrissian.

Hope you enjoyed, have a great weekend and stay awesome!