The Force Wills - Chapter 186 (Patreon)

The arrival of Conqueror in high orbit around Bespin heralded the end of our impromptu mini-vacation.

Omen had already ascended out of the gas giant’s life zone an hour before and promptly landed in its dedicated berth in the starboard bay. A quick day of logistics followed, getting the rescued 501st members checked by medical, debriefed by RI and reintegrated. It was also interspersed by an hour-long stint in the transference room to brief Grandmaster Yoda on the entire Infinite Coil situation.

“Most disturbing this is,” Yoda said, where a shower of rain was hammering against the small window of his personal quarters at the Temple. It was the only place in the ziggurat that was truly set up to have proper misdirection and counter-intelligence measures, given that it was the most logical place to bug for Palpatine’s spies. “Shadow Plague, a corruption that binds, it is. Abeloth, stopped she must be. Ready, we are not.”

“Can we actually ever be ready to face her?” I asked grimly.

“Understand your point, I do. Nevertheless, encouraged, we should be. Infinite Coil, remained in the shadows it was meant to be, to grow far larger before we learned of it. Now we can bring it into the light, wither it will.”

“So am I clear to continue operations?”

“Indeed, Ahsoka. Cautious you must remain, however. Contact with Coil forces and materials, physical and spiritual hazard it is. Nothing the Mother has touched remains uncorrupted. Tempting it is to learn from the abilities she bestows onto her forces. Trap, it is.The best defenses against such influence; attachment to identity, strength in the Force and clarity of self, to purpose, to the light. In subtlety and persistence the plague’s power lies, not only in open attack.”

“And the Council?”

“Carefully informed it will be,” Yoda nodded. “Panic and misuse of this threat, as dangerous as the Coil itself, it could be. Remember this, Ahsoka. A disease of the body, this is not only. A disease of the will, it is. Feed it, and stronger it grows. Starve it of fear and isolation… and perhaps break, the Coil will.”

”Understood, Master.”

With the relative blank cheque from Yoda now in hand, I set about marshalling everything I could materially that could support Zero Company. Not to mention, settling everything with its commander.

I found Hawks a few hours later near the Omen, watching as the first of many Conqueror ration pack crates were loaded on board.

“General Tano,” he greeted, engrossed in a datapad and trying to keep up as the crews loaded.

“Hawks, hope you had a good night’s rest in Diplo country.”

“Slept like a baby,” the man grinned roguishly. “It’s gonna be an adjustment to get back to my bunk on the Den. These Acclamator-IIs are fine ships, wish we had them earlier.”

“You and probably half the Navy,” I grinned. “I’m rather surprised that the first thing you chose from the list I gave you was food. Is there a shortage problem on Kafrene?”

“Not really, just kriffing expensive. The Ring of Kafrene doesn’t generate enough to feed its own population. Zero Company has been making do with bulk ration packs that were sourced from the black market, which are in turn, old produce from a species whose sun went supernova about a decade ago.”

I winced, “Decade old ration packs? You’ve been running a merc company like that? My compliments on your leadership Hawks.”

He shrugged, waving off the compliment, “I make sure any new operators I hire know the deal going in. No surprises. It’s a very effective filter to weed out gloryhounds and incompetents. That leaves only potential spies and infiltrators, which my 2IC and I can sniff out immediately.”

“How many operators are we talking about?”

He focused on his datapad, pretending to adjust a few entries, “Agh, this nershit is usually Runa’s job. Well, if you add the combat capable R droids; sixteen.”

I blinked in astonishment, “Sixteen? You’ve been fighting the Seps and Coil, with just sixteen?”

“Our tactics are far from regular military, General. We fight more like commandos.”

“I can understand that, so you have a six man team rotation per mission?”

“About that,” he twiddled his right hand vaguely. “Depends on the location. Sometimes we have to blend in first to get where we’re going. We don’t have a fancy LAAT gunship to drop right on top of a target. It might mean we only go in with two or four. The majority of our work has an intel gathering component in the criminal underworld. Access to RI and its resources is only a recent event. If we ever need more than six operators on the field, then it was an intel screw-up that sent us into a kriffed up situation.”

“And have you been in many of those?” I asked delicately.

“A few, we have a memorial wall to remember ‘em. Look, General,” he quickly changed the subject. “I just wanna make sure that, yes, while I thank you for this kind donation to my operations, I’ve been in the business long enough to know that somewhere there’s a catch or an invisible string, that’s gonna snag. Zero Company is my outfit and the Republic and by extension, the Jedi Order, are a client. Now I go all out for my clients, but command begins and ends right here.” He tapped his chest on the Phase II upper armor he wore, which was painted completely in matt black.

“Understood completely, Hawks,” I held up my hands disarmingly. “It’s your company. I hope that you nevertheless keep an open mind.”

“General, given everything I’ve seen, my mind has long since been pried open by a hydrospanner.”

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Conqueror launched itself into hyper from Bespin, passing through an intermediate waypoint system before dropping out in Gerrenthum; a small fork in the hyperspace lane that met up with the Corellian Trade Spine.

Omen left with Hawks and an HK-HP on board, which I controlled for the first leg of the journey towards Kafrene, which required a left turn off the Trade Spine.

We plunged into the neighboring sector along the Cerean Reach hyperlane, which snaked steadily coreward, before hitting Cerea itself.

I disconnected from the HK at that point, since the home system of my most favorite Jedi Master was not a place I relished setting foot in, even remotely. And it would be just like the Force, Murphy or Fate, to cause some or other shenanigans which would delay the journey there.

Conqueror had already blitzed its way through three sectors in that time. She was scheduled for a proper drydock slot in Kuat, which I already had begun the flimsiwork for and coordinated with a Jedi CFK team who was coming to investigate not just our Rakatan debris, but every inch of my ship’s hull down to the molecular level. They were also going to interview me extensively as the ship commander who had technically had the ‘First Contact’.

It was almost a relief to reconnect to the HK a day later, just as the ship entered the Takodana system.

“Pity we’re in a hurry,” Hawks commented, reluctantly handing primary pilot controls back to me. The man was very enamored with the Omen and its modern cockpit. “Takodana Castle is just the place for a good drink and a Sabacc game.”

“An open frontier port that is undoubtedly filled with spies from both sides and so many other colorful characters too,” I pointed out, adjusting the Omen’s course to intercept the small Biox secondary hyperspace lane and the final leg of the journey.

“That too,” he admitted idly.

While it would certainly be an interesting planet to visit, if only to explore the abandoned Jedi Temple down there, I didn’t want to come on the radar of the local pirate queen, Maz Kanata. Who was unfortunately, very much active and running her little fiefdom down there.

Twenty hours later, the Omen tore and stretched its way back into normal space in the Kafrene system.

It had a single yellow-white main sequence star, which only provided mild illumination of the system, which became flat and washed out by the time it reached the outer system. It was largely empty of any significant planetary bodies in the inner system, with minimal colonization or resource interest and hardly anyone bothered going there.

The dominant feature was in the outer system, the Kafrene asteroid belt; a broad, dense agglomeration containing a high proportion of malformed planetoids and irregular rock masses.

The Ring of Kafrene had begun life as a mining colony, which failed despite initial promising prospects, but was then turned into a trading post, mainly because the system was a minor crossroads convergence of hyperspace lanes for six sectors of various inhabited planets, that also intersected the Guu Run lane in the north, which eventually led right back to the Corellian Trade Spine. It was a perfect location for Zero Company; out of the way, yet still connected to the greater galaxy via numerous secondary and tertiary hyperlanes. 

The Ring itself was a titanic structure of durasteel, plastoid and scavenged plating, suspended and braced between two of the largest planetoids in the belt.

Bloody hell, just needs a ruthless asari matriarch to lead it and it might as well be Omega, I thought with amusement, as I took in the opposing cityscapes that had been constructed around the primary connection points of the planetoids.

“General, I can take us in from here,” Hawks said firmly.

“By all means,” I gestured towards the steadily growing Ring.

He took the controls and angled the Omen for an anti-spinward orbit and intercept to the station’s sunward side.

As we came closer, I reviewed a passive scan of the sprawling station; it was a dense, multi-level warren of corridors, markets, docking bays, residences, and industrial spaces. Sections that ranged from relatively maintained commercial zones to decaying, poorly lit districts. Ships stopped here because the hyperspace routes made it convenient, not because the system itself offered much beyond docking, supplies, information, and the opportunity to conduct deals with minimal oversight.

“There it is, home sweet home for Zero Company, The Den.”

Looming larger and larger in the forward viewport was a berthed bulk freighter almost 900 meters long. The modular, utilitarian design and partial cylindrical hull I recognized immediately as a product of Gallofree Yards. From a distance I could see the worn exterior condition of the ship; patch repairs, mismatched plating, and dockyard weathering. It was, however, still good enough to hold an atmosphere, and produce power for the active shields on the starboard side docking bay.

“Can she still take off?”

“Technically, yes, but only with a lot more work and money,” Hawks admitted, as he pointed to a smaller ship parked in the bay. “No real need, since we use the Caisson to get around the galaxy. Much more economical and fits the budget. Den would guzzle credits in fuel and she’s slow.”

Caisson was a broad hulled dropship with two major engine nacelles mounted on either side. It didn’t look like any specific class I could point a finger to and had a pure function over form aesthetic. More than likely a custom design order that either Hawks had commissioned or he just picked it up second hand. Her hull featured the evidence of many planetary atmo insertions.

My attention was diverted however, as I sensed a distinct, trained, presence in the Force on board the Den.

I instinctively began pulling my own presence inward, beginning the Curved Mirror technique to hide my presence, but stopped when I took in a few more details of the Jedi I was sensing.

It was tempting to immediately question Hawks on why a Jedi padawan was seemingly in his employ already and why he had not been more forthcoming about that little fact. Instead I embraced patience.

The forward view was swallowed by the Den’s hangar bay and Hawks guided the Omen into a smooth landing into the empty space next to the Caisson.

A quick adjustment of the HK holofield, rendered my Mando helmet over my head and we quickly ran through a post-flight checklist.

We emerged from Omen’s rear ramp only to face a small welcoming committee.

“Hawks! About time you got back,” griped a yellow skinned togruta woman with white patterned tattoos on her face, lekku and montrals. It resulted in a near-permanent ‘scowl’ effect which neatly mirrored a spirit in the Force that was perpetually agitated. “Had a nice vacation on Cloud City whilst the rest of us were slaving away running your company?” she accused.

In contrast to her demeanour, I could sense she was very relieved that her boss was back and a lot of honest concern had left her.  

“Ah, don’t be like that Runa, Coil obviously crashed the party and it’s only thanks to our brand new, loaded client that I wasn’t dead in the heart of Bespin,” he gestured to me graciously. “Speaking of which, let me introduce you. General Tano, meet Runa Blask, Zero Company’s finance officer and the main reason that the Company managed to survive to today and keeps our accounts in order.”

Blask looked at me with wide eyes for a moment before turning to Hawks and drawling, “And of course, you forgot the little detail that I’m not exactly on the Republic’s list of model citizens. Halloren is Intel and couldn’t care less, but this is Ahsoka kriffing Tano you just walked into the Den.”

It didn’t take much to deduce what Blask’s general problem was from that little reaction, so I gave a polite bow, “A pleasure Miss Blask, rest assured, that whatever arrest list you may be on, it is not one I have any interest in enforcing.”

M8 quickly referenced Runa Blask’s record for me in my HUD. She was from Taris of all places, a staunch Separatist, but more importantly, one of the best financiers to come out of the Trade Federation ranks for a long time. So much so that there had been bidding wars and blood spilled among the megacorps to secure her exclusive services. The latter was what had caused her to flee. She was also wanted for fraud among the Banking Clan, trying to make off with enough of a fortune to live comfortably, but was unsuccessful. Now wanted by both sides in the war, she was clearly here in Zero Company as a last resort only.

“See, no problem,” Hawks said, throwing a mild smugness towards his financier. “Next, and my 2IC, Trick.”

The clone in all black Phase I armor with a visibly scorched blaster hit on the right side of the visor, gave me a reflexive but much more casual salute than any trooper would. “General Tano, an honor.”

“Trick,” I returned the salute and probed the trooper with the Force, gauging his health. The clone was generally in a good condition, but his head was a different story. He still had a lingering injury to the right inner ear exactly where he had taken that blaster shot. That he was still alive was thanks to the helmet doing its job and the bolt probably having lost a lot of energy on its way - therefore a long range shot. Dedicated therapy and some cybernetics could’ve returned him to active status, but that was not the Kaminoan way.

“All above board, General, Trick’s not a deserter,” Hawks explained quickly. “He was going to be decommissioned, reduced to maintenance duty on Kamino. I got him discharged, a little bit of therapy to get the worst of his injury sorted and now he’s my best operator.

“Next we have Kabbney Uppercut, and yes, that’s his last name,” Hawks smirked fondly at the bulky blue sentient whose entire left arm was replaced with a relatively crude cybernetic. “He’s our signals expert and field tech.”

It took me a few moments to recognize that Kabbney was a Felshi, a species that was prized in the underworld for bodies that were perfect for various fighting sports, thanks to muscular builds and natural impact padding over their skulls and blubber around the neck and chest. He looked at me with those bulbous eyes in an expression that I could only call; suspiciously fascinated.

He held out his cybernetic hand for me to shake and I obliged, only for my hand’s holofield to visibly distort at the contact.

“Bah. Honored-greeting, General Tano-meeting. Not really here-being, are you seeing?

Remote-piloting that HK-HP with distant-steering! Kebbie always-wanting one-viewing, eh?”

My mouth quivered with humor, even as my brain had to take an extra moment to parse the very odd rhyming dialect. It wasn’t a feature of felshi to speak like this, so was clearly just the way Kabbney preferred to speak.

“Well, you’ll certainly get your chance if this HK gets damaged on a mission, which hopefully shouldn’t be too often.”

“Wait, wait, wait… hold up,” Blask held up her hands and stepped closer, hesitantly waving her hand right through the edges of my helmet’s holo-montrals. “You’re not here? Then…”

“I’m actually on board the Conqueror, currently speeding through hyper up the Trade Spine, interfaced through this droid.”

“By the Rings, I’m so jealous,” Blask said flatly, shaking her head. “Do you know how much more I could’ve gotten done if I had access to something like this during my early career? Time wasted on travelling, so many deals that could’ve been made…” she trailed off, clearly lost in many ‘what if’ scenarios.

“One of the primary reasons the droid was developed,” I confirmed.

“Hey Grenpic!” Hawks shouted off into the distance, his voice echoing harshly through the bay. “Stop playing Sabacc and get the crew rustled, we have new tasty rations and gear to offload!”

A rodian and a motley crew of four mechanics and techs, gathered around a table on an upper overlook from the bay, jumped out of their seats as if their arses were on fire.

“Did you say we got new grub?!” Grenpic shouted.

“Yes! Now get down here and earn your paycheck!” Hawks chuckled and gave me a wry smile. “Laziest bunch on the Ring, but their work is the best. All right, everyone back to work, let me give the General a tour.”

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The Den had a titanic amount of empty space, but Zero Company only used a few decks of it. As a result, the life support was turned off to the majority of the ship, to save power and the main fusion reactor only ran at a few percent of its nominal output.

The deck just forward from the landing bay was converted into a general common area for everyone, but it was so large that each member of the company had their own space. Each was generally equipped to support their specific interests or specialty, which contributed to the Company as a whole; Kabbney, for example, had an entire desk of integrated hyperspace signal analyzers and very illegal decryption equipment that would’ve seen him immediately arrested in the Core territories.

It was in one of these nooks, that I found the mystery Jedi I had sensed.

She was a tognath, one of the strange races of the galaxy that blended traits of insect and mammalian, but were genetic relatives of kel dor and gand. They had fleshy pallid skin, but it was stretched over an exoskeleton, a humanoid body plan, internal endoskeleton and completely hairless. It was a variety of adaptations to live on a homeworld with relative high gravity and pressure. Their nervous systems were generally less-sensitive than the norm and their capacity to perceive pain or sensation was an order of magnitude below most races. They also practiced cybernetic enhancement as a rule to adapt themselves to go out into the galaxy without problems. This tognath Jedi, had a padawan braid dangling from her right metallic ear piece, whilst her mouth and eyes were entirely covered with cybernetic implants to process a standard nitro-ox atmosphere.

She was also young, seemingly in the late teens equivalent for her species.

Her outfit was a curious departure from what you could expect from a padawan. The tunic, pants, and long boots were there, but colored in matt black, with an armor plating style that distinctly drew inspiration from what Obi-Wan wore.

It seemed that color was the predominant hue of Zero Company.

“Uh, I suppose it’s time to come clean on this one,” Hawks sighed ruefully. “Padawan Vokoss is-”

I held up a hand to interrupt, “No need, I can save you a bit of time, Hawks.”

Vokoss hadn’t even moved from her meditative cushion, which was right next to a small hololibrary, but I could acutely feel her surprise, alarm and attention, before it was all bottled and shielded behind an impressively disciplined mind.

I reached out with the Force, forming a quick Bond in support of the telepathy.

‘Greetings, Padawan Vokoss?’

I heard her mental sigh. She had clearly been dreading the moment she ever encountered another Jedi for some reason, and it had everything to do with why she was working for a private mercenary company.

‘Call me Tel-Rea, please,’ she thought back.

‘You don’t feel worthy of your rank?’

‘No.’

The world around us faded away completely, as I pulled her into my own inner mind. She could’ve resisted easily, but came along willingly.

With the infinite black expanse of stone and misty white of the Force surrounding us, I asked a simple question, “Why?”

Her only answer was to share the memory of her master; Knight Salvaren Hadrix. How they had both been on assignment, tracing what they first thought was simply a Separatist employed mercenary group. That turned out to be the Infinite Coil and during their investigation into the cult, Hadrix had been bitten by a Messenger. The Shadow Plague killed him nearly immediately and Tel-Rea was left rudderless without a Master, who had wanted to send her away anyway because of her dependence on his approval. She had grown too fond of him.

Using his death as motivation, she refused to return to the Order, continuing her own personal crusade against the Coil, instead of just going back to be reassigned to another master.

I could just imagine how that would happen too and the inevitable lectures she would get on ‘attachment’ from some crusty Jedi Master.

“I just couldn’t let the threat of the Coil stand, especially when it was so insidious and being ignored! Neither could I raise the alarm, because if the nature of the Shadow Plague was broadcast to the galaxy-”

“Chaos, paranoia, spawning yet more disaster,” I sighed, eyeing Tel-Rea as she idly felt the floor and traced fingers through the mist.

“Such a fascinating, beautiful mind you have… “ she muttered, clearly forgetting herself, before she twitched, going rigid with embarrassment. “Can you pretend not to have heard that, General?”

“Impossible in this place,” I chuckled. “Please, call me Ahsoka. We’re both padawans here, no matter my army rank. I fully understand why you just can’t go back to the Order. I only have to put myself in your shoes and I know how I would react.”

“Oh… I must admit, that’s a relief. So… you won’t report this to the Council?”

“No,” I said with complete truth, certain select Fulcrum members were another story. “You bring a critical strength to Zero Company’s overall mission, beyond the mundane of blaster and explosive. They need you and I can sense they have grown around you. I will not be the one to deprive them of that, especially when it’s in my own interest to strengthen the Company as much as possible.”

“Thank you, Ahsoka. It will be nice to also have another Jedi around here.”

A distinct current of loneliness pervaded her general spirit.

“Just be aware, I will not be available all the time to connect to this HK-HP, but you can use it as a secure link to talk to me.”

She nodded, the reassurance already doing wonders for her general mood. She purposely took a mental step back and the mundane reality of The Den common room reasserted itself.

“Done,” I said with a smile to Hawks.

He blinked, looking between Tel-Rea and I, “What? You were just looking at each other for three seconds and had a whole conversation…?”

“Something like that, shall we move on?”

He shook his head to remove mental cobwebs and led the way to what was the expansive Bridge of the Den. It had been repurposed into the general command center for the company, utilizing a central fairly large holotank that currently had a full rendering of the galaxy, with numerous overlays flashing in a variety of colors and symbology.

At its base, It was being tended to by a compactly built human wearing a Republic naval uniform with the three blue blocks of a lieutenant rank on his chest, and the shoulder insignia of RI.

He immediately turned to face me with no surprise on his features and saluted.

“General Tano. Welcome to Zero Company.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Halloren,” I returned the salute, even as I carefully took in what I sensed about the man. A clever, cunning mind, tempered by a practicality that only came from someone with a humble spirit and upbringing. He didn’t wear that uniform as a Core Worlder would, his bearing was completely wrong for that. No silver spoon was in his mouth as a child. “Tell me, do you know why I’m here?”

He didn’t even stutter as he began answering my unspoken challenge, “Your presence must mean the Jedi Council has become aware of the Shadow Plague and has instructed you to aid the covert effort against it.”

“Correct, Hawks will undoubtedly debrief you soon on his mission to Bespin, which is where our paths crossed and the Coil forces objected to the Umbaran Partisans engaging in an apparently unsanctioned prisoner exchange.”

I could see the implications spinning in Halloren’s dark brown eyes. “I see, General. I certainly look forward to reading Hawks’ full report.”

The leader of Zero Company pursed his lips, not looking forward to that little bit of flimsiwork.

“In any case, the Jedi Council is offering to match RIs mission budget, effectively doubling Zero Company’s credit flow.”

“That will certainly ease a number of operating constraints we have been working under,” Halloren declared with some relief. “A number of operations have been put on hold simply because we don’t have the funds to bribe key players or the gear we need to acquire is too expensive.”

“Good news,” Hawks clapped his hands with a wide smile and rubbed them together, giving Halloren a pointed look. “Details that can wait for later, after the General’s inspection is done.”

“Oh, of course. An honor to meet you, General Tano. I look forward to working together with you.”

We traded salutes and Hawks led me into a turbolift to head down two decks.

“This is the largest of the inhabited sections of the ship. Here we have an armory, med bay, droid bay and the barracks all rolled into one along this central corridor.”

The corridor showed the ship’s age and pedigree. Paint was flaking off the walls, bulkheads had stains, and the air had a high humidity factor. Things were kept clean by hand here with not a single cleaning droid was in sight. 

The armory was tended to by a hulking male lasat named Neesh Renark, who looked like a dragon nesting on gold, except his currency of choice was everything to do with blasters and things that exploded. He’d arranged the space almost like a gun shop, with a massive table that formed a solid barrier to the extensive collection of weaponry behind him, mounted on display and within pallets.

He grinned toothily as he shook my hand, and smirked with naked greed as he saw the HK-HP’s holosheathe.  “General. You don’t know how hard I’ve tried to get my hands on one of those droids you’re riding and what do you know? One walks into my front door.”

“Unfortunately, this one is not for sale, Mr Renark,” I said with a challenging grin in my voice. “MandalMotors would gladly sell you one, its office is wide open on Concordia to potential customers.”

“Too far and so many pesky background checks,” he dismissed the notion.

“Neesh, no,” Hawks said sternly. “I turn a blind eye to your many black market deals from my ship, but this HK is of strategic interest to our Company and mission. Clear?”

“As the crystal caves of Lasan, Hawks, a fella can dream though,” he said with a toothy smile, imagining the creds he could make with a HK-HP on the black market. I wished him luck, the engineering within an HK-HP had been made specifically with HK-47s extensive experience and architecture, including a team of the most paranoid minded engineers MandalMotors could assemble. Trying to hijack or steal one would instantly trigger protocols that were best described as ‘classic HK-47 on a meatbag rampage’.

“Well, you’re not lacking in the firepower department at least,” I commented.

“Prices through Neesh aren’t cheap though,” Hawks idly waved at the lasat, as we left the armory. “Every rocket, droid popper and tibanna cell has to make it through so many customs houses before it reaches him, every step of the black market taking its cut along the way.”

“So that’s why your 2nd biggest item on your wishlist was BLX rockets.”

“Trick uses them extensively when the Seppies throw B1 hordes or B2s our way.”

We took the next door to the med bay, which had six biobeds that were each of a different model, rather crudely integrated into the ship’s power systems with exposed conduits. Two full immersion bacta tanks were bubbling in the corner, one of which was occupied by a short human woman, healing from a nasty blaster wound in the lower abdomen. 

It was being actively overseen by a gangly medical droid model with a cylindrical central body, spindly humanoid limbs, colored in a deep green, red and black. It was an MEV model that was mostly used in the wake of major battles to evacuate and stabilize clone patients for transport. This one had been repurposed and tooled into fulfilling a sickbay and research role.

“This is M-3VO, the closest thing we have to a med tech and has done most of the work researching the Shadow Plague. He’s also our primary pilot for the Caisson.”

“Greetings General Tano,” the droid declared in a deep male voice. A visible scanning beam radiated from his head and played over my form. “It seems my services will not be necessary where you are concerned.”

“No it won’t, I would like to see your data and conclusions on the Plague at some point.”

The droid’s head tilted, “Records indicate your medical credentials. That would be acceptable.”

Hawks held up his hand, “No medical jargon now. How’s Jae doing?”

“Baroness Mordant’s wound is healing apace with no complications. She is sleeping currently and I will decant her from the tank within 22 hours.”

“Took a nasty hit from a BX sniper,” Hawks explained.

I stepped closer to the tank and pushed my senses through the tank to the sleeping woman within, “She’s lucky to be alive.”

“That she is, happened just as we were on the Caisson’s ramp, taking off under fire, an insane shot.”

“Have you managed to salvage any of the war droids that Coil uses?” I asked thoughtfully.

“A few pieces here and there, but it’s all under lockdown. M-3 is the only one who's allowed to examine it.”

“I’ll appreciate it if you can give me access, there might be details, leads and answers I can pull from it.”

“Will do, General. Now, if you’ll follow me to my office, we can formally sign our contract.”

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Hawks’ office was actually what would’ve been the cargo master’s office if the Den had still been fully operational.

Its open shuttered transparisteel windows overlooked the docking bay, and had a spectacular view of the Ring beyond, giving an overhead view of the Caisson and Omen landed next to each other.

One corner featured a personalized space, with a single comfortable chair, next to an old marfaset was on its stand, ready to be played.

The inward wall to the core of the ship featured a long couch that was clearly Hawks’ preferred bed to any of the bunk beds in the barracks.

Central to the space was a desk with an integrated terminal and a worn yellow leather office chair. 

“Anything to drink?” he asked absently, heading straight to a small bar-fridge combination featuring numerous glasses and all manner of drink bottles stacked on top. He flicked his fingers with annoyance, “Right, not actually here.”

“I could pretend, the HK has a rough approximation for a mouth to facilitate infiltration, but it would honestly just be a waste,” I chuckled.

He poured himself some caf, took a sip, and headed over to his terminal. A few taps on the controls later, he chucked me a datapad.

On it was a 22 page document that looked like it had definitely been written by someone with extensive legal and financial training straight from the IGBC. It was a cast iron, straight jacket of a contract that would probably take a team of lawyers a month to dissect properly.

Thankfully, M8 was literally with me and did it in a few seconds.

“Do you think there’s really a court in the Republic that could adjudicate this?”    

“Of course not,” Hawks snorted in amusement into his cup of caf, as he leaned back and rested his legs on the desk. “However, I know you Jedi pride yourselves on sticking to your promises. If there was ever any dispute, it’d go before the Council and you can bet that I’d not go in there without a way of making it all blow up in your faces.”

The office door behind me slid open.

My senses perked with danger - the charging of a blaster pistol, held in the hand of a shadowy figure in Mandalorian armor, distinct light brown with dark green claw marks over a female beskar chest plate. 

The helmet with a distinct T-shaped visor in matching colors…

A flex of will fixed the trigger in place with the Force before it could be pulled.

My hand closed into a fist, constricting the woman into a complete Force Stasis, preventing her from using the nasty electroweb dart weapon integrated into her gauntlet.

It wouldn’t do much to an HK-HP, but I’d rather that she didn’t waste her ammo pointlessly.

“Kriff! What the!” Hawks jerked in surprise and burst out of his seat. “Kullervo, what do you think you’re doing?!” His own blaster had been drawn with a speed that was easily on par with the late Cad Bane… impressive.

“Relax Hawks,” I said with the lightest touch of the Mind Trick and turned around with a sigh to regard the Mandalorian woman, hovering her closer. In the Force, her spirit was a bundle of tightly constrained fury that was curiously not actually directed at me.

“Relax? Kullervo is one of the best in the company, professional and she just barges in here blaster drawn and tries to make you swallow a blaster bolt! Wait… Are these Mandalorian issues?”

“Good deduction,” I nodded and turned around to face who had to be Clytemnestra Kullervo. “You are seeing clan politics at work. I am of Clan Vizsla and roughly twelve years ago, my clan and three others mutually declared a dispute against her clan, Verminoth. The reason why does not concern outsiders.”

The true reason was as old as time, Verminoth, an ancient clan that could trace itself all the way back to the days of Old Republic and the ancient Mando Crusades, had wanted a return to prominence of being seen as the preeminent martial clan of Concordia. They challenged the Vizsla alliance and lost, badly.

“Wait, wait, 12 years ago you were just a youngling at the Jedi Temple-”

“Irrelevant,” I interrupted him. “When I became Manda’lor of Vizsla, I inherited the mantle and everything that goes with it, including the rivalries and enmities. Whatever my predecessor did as Head of Clan Vizsla, falls on my shoulders with equal weight.” I let go of the Stasis completely and Kullervo dropped to the floor with a crouch and promptly kneeled before me, awaiting judgement. “Kullervo is one of the few remaining members of Clan Verminoth.”

Hawks gaped at me, “You massacred them?”

“No. Our dispute was conducted according to The Way. The fights are mostly ritualistic, with agreed arenas, rules and whilst deaths can happen, it’s expected that it must be avoided and only in one-on-one mutually agreed duels within a declared Circle. Casualties in that conflict were relatively low on both sides. However, the leader of Verminoth was a sore loser, Kervis Akali. Instead of becoming a vassal of Vizsla, they chose exile from Concordia.”

“Akali? Hey, isn’t he a major guild bounty hunter?” Hawks flicked a finger in realization.     

“Indeed, Verminoth became bounty hunters and mercenaries to keep the clan afloat in exile. The last intelligence I had placed them in the Daalang system and I sense you have something to say about that Kullervo. You may speak and explain to me why you attacked.”

“It was the only way I could rid my clan of its shame. I saw the Kom’rk with Viszla markings land and knew it was you. I knew I couldn’t win, but if you defeated me again, I could surrender as we should have twelve years ago. I offer you my beskar’gam and my life.”

“Now wait just one second-” Hawks objected immediately.

“I will accept your beskar’gam only. Your grief and sense of righteous vengeance colors your spirit deeply. What happened?”

“I objected to Akali taking us into exile from the beginning. We should’ve followed the Way, but my voice and those of us who disagreed were weak. He was my husband and I was obliged to follow. Then just a few years ago, Akali, along with Farrar, Bonni and Sun, massacred the rest of Clan Verminoth. I am now the only one who has kept the Way and carry my clan’s name forward. I have sworn Aka be Gra’tua.”

The Path of Vengeance.

For frak’s sake. This was not a complication that Zero Company could afford. Kullervo might be one of Hawks’ best, but the fact that she was here while on the Path could only mean that somehow Akali and his fellows were involved with the Coil. If she ever got a whiff of Akali during a mission, she would forgo all other priorities and carry out her vendetta, no matter the consequences.

“Akali, is he within the Coil?”

She nodded, “Yes, Manda’lor. I tracked him and the others down, only to see him infected with the Shadow Plague and empowered by it. There was no way I could fulfill the Gra’tua alone, so I sought out those who opposed the Coil. I found Zero Company and offered my services.”

“Okay, for those of us in the room who don’t really speak Mando’a,” Hawks drawled sarcastically.  “Gra’tua means revenge?”

“Close enough,” I confirmed with a sigh. I stared at the datapad with the contract, quickly used a stylus to sign, whilst sending my own code imprint through the HK’s systems.

“Well, it’s nice to know her motivation for joining… at last. I thought at first it was just some easy credits during a lull in bounty hunting or she was laying low for something.” Hawks gave her a shrewd look. “Now, I don’t look closely at my operators’ personal lives. Everyone here has different reasons for showing up at my door. Some are good, some are stupid, others are just in it for the money, but I draw the line when those personal reasons may end up harming this company.”

“Dismiss me if that is your desire, Hawks,” Kullervo said immediately.

He scratched his moustache and thin beard in thought. “Now, I don’t know much about Mandalorian culture or customs, but I figure that if I did that, you’d just tag along with Manda’lor Tano anyway.” He gave me a raised eyebrow, “I guess that right?”

“She’s effectively vassalized herself to me, so yes. My first order would be to assign her here anyway.”

And now I had the responsibility to ensure her line didn’t die out and eventually ensure Clan Verminoth had the means and opportunity to restore itself. Clever, but I didn’t blame her for her desperation.

“Fine, fine, your contract stands, Cly. Don’t make me regret it. Ah, be stupid to anyway, a bunch of Mandos infected with the Plague is not something I’m gonna take on without Mandos in my own corner.”

I stepped closer to Kullervo, touched her shoulder and pronounced formally, “Gar beskar'gam jii ner, Kullervo. Motir jii, sa verd be Vizsla. (Your beskar'gam is now mine, Kullervo. Rise now, as a warrior of Vizsla.)”

She stood and her spirit was buoyed with relief and satisfaction, yet still burned in eagerness for vengeance.

“Your enemies are now ours. Your Gra’tua will be fulfilled. The Infinite Coil are the Ori'aru'e. (great enemy).”

“Understood, Manda’lor.”

“Hawks, I’ll be disconnecting now. The HK’s own droid intelligence will take over, she’s designated HK-77. She can use any weapon you put in her hands or fulfill any military role you wish. She is also the designated pilot for the Omen, but at her discretion she can give that to anyone you can put in the role. It can act as close-in air support for operations and even dogfight if it has to, comfortably taking on up to a half squadron of Vulture droids.”

“Got it, General.”

“Good luck. May the Force be with all of you.”

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Hawks watched with some fascination as the General’s form shimmered, before vanishing and leaving behind an armored skeletal droid that immediately tickled an instinctual fear in his hind brain. It looked like someone had taken a BX, reshaped it into a female body plan, made it even more nimble and given it a chromic type alloy. 

“HK-77?”

The droid’s eyes were two angular photoreceptors in blue, which flashed to life. “Captain Hawks,” she said with a smooth voice that reminded him of this one lounge singer he had met in the officer’s club on Anaxes.

“Just Hawks, please. Tell me, how’s your sniping?”

“Hmm, I could burn a hole in a meatbag at 40km with a suitably modified 773 Firepuncher,” she declared with a low delight, as if the thought aroused her? 

It was rather disconcerting to see an actual mechanical ‘mouth’ on a droid whilst it was talking, not to mention such a pleasantly attractive voice speaking about killing someone. ‘77 was also affecting actual body language, moving quite organically and walking around his office, trailing long metallic fingers along surfaces as if feeling them.

“Good, we only have one sniper on the team, and I’ve been overworking him somewhat.”

“Then I will endeavor to arm myself appropriately. May I be dismissed?”

“Go ahead.”

Cly followed in the HK droid’s wake, leaving Hawks alone with his thoughts.

He couldn’t help but feel that Zero Company had somehow reached another turning point, and it had come out of nowhere. Now that they could boast two major recurring clients, the funding would finally cover all expenses and within a month or two they could maybe even boast a profit! No more haggling or scrounging to eke out every bit of value from every credit. They could finally have some air superiority and do combat hot drops out of the Omen. 

He could just imagine some of the potentially lucrative security contracts that they could now offer.

His office door slid open half an hour later in the middle of a pleasant daydream where he was shoving his success straight down Wilhuff Tarkin’s throat.

“Hawks, I think we need to talk about that HK,” Bennic said with some concern.

He groaned with annoyance, “That didn’t take long. What’s the problem?” 

“Zezda was so startled when it walked into the armory, that she nearly blasted the droid’s head off. Menz thinks you want to replace him and is already packing his bags.”

Hawks rubbed his face warily. “Well, tell Menz to unpack and that ‘77 is the company’s second sniper. Zezda has faced down the worst this galaxy can throw at her, she can handle a non-hostile HK unit just fine. Now is there anything else?”

“RI has a mission for us. Briefing is ready at the holotank.”

He jumped out of his seat, “Excellent. Let’s climb on the bantha and see what we got.”

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A/N: Zero Company is now set up, with unexpected complications for Ahsoka. We'll be cutting back to them occasionally as appropriate. Having such a team to employ for certain clandestine Fulcrum missions takes a huge load off HK-47.

Enjoy the weekend and Halloween for those of you who take part in it. Stay awesome folks.

RIP Sir Patrick Stewart. Make it so.