Chapter 45: Chapter 45

A Young Girl’s War Between the Stars

Naboo, 39 BBY/961 GSC.

I breathed slowly and deeply, eyes closed as I reached out with the Force, feeling the environment around me. My blade hummed as I slowly ran through a Makashi form, my muscles trembling faintly against the Force I was using as full body resistance training. By now, I barely felt the natural resistance of the blade as it moved through the air, so I was aiming to further improve my body without the Force so that it would be that much stronger and faster when using it.

Breathe in, pushing slowly forward through a two-handed swing aimed at a theoretical enemy’s weapon to push it aside. Breathe out, hand over hand, step forward into a slash at the now off-balance enemy’s chest, their weapon out of position to do anything about it.

After a while, I switched from a two-handed grip to one-handed and pulled my other saber, feeling my muscles ache against the strain of trying to one-hand each of them through the forms I’d drilled into muscle memory. It was a burn I was familiar with, though I couldn’t say I enjoyed it. I wasn’t some pain junkie. No, what I enjoyed was the knowledge that the pain was a mark of incremental progress, and that every drop of sweat shed now spared my blood being shed later.

Only once my body was sweating and trembling, did I finally stop the resistance. I forced myself to move through one more set of forms at my best possible speed without using the Force to enhance my body—first with one saber, then with two, and finally connecting them and switching to the polearm form I had been taught on Dathomir. As I finished up and returned my weapons to my belt, clapping drew my attention, along with a subtle ripple in the Force.

Opening my eyes, I took in the park around me. Large trees filled most of the area aside from a central space, creating lots of shade around an area of unobstructed sunlight—the perfect spot for a student of Naboo’s Royal Academy to take a break and eat lunch. The river in front of me moved along smoothly towards the waterfalls, a few people on gondolas and other small watercraft moving on the water. Turning my head, I found I had an audience, though only one of them had moved close—and the rest had turned back to what they were doing as soon as they realized I was finished with my practice.

A small brunette human girl somewhere between five and ten years of age stood nearby, a beaming smile on her face as she clapped. That ripple I felt seemed centered on her. When I probed further, the girl herself was just barely Force sensitive—perhaps enough to have some intuition about people, events, and her surroundings, but not enough to lift even a pebble with the Force.

So, how is a barely Force sensitive girl producing an outsized ripple in the Force? I wondered, considering her. If it’s not the girl herself, then it could be something or someone she’s connected to.

“That was amazing, miss Jedi!” she piped up, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I nodded. Reaching into my computation orb, I checked the time and decided it was close enough and started walking towards the academy building. “If you’ll excuse me, I promised to go meet with a class of children in the academy.”

“You did?” the girl asked, moving to walk alongside me and turning a beaming smile up at me. “That’s funny. My class is supposed to have a guest speaker after lunch.”

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, “And what class is that?”

“I’m part of the Legislative Youth Program,” she explained.

I hummed. “That’s where I’m going.”

“Then I’ll take you there!” the girl beamed, before her mouth formed a small ‘o’ and her eyes went wide. “Oh! My apologies, I’ve been so rude. I’m Padme Naberrie,” she introduced herself and gave a quick curtsy.

“Tanya Mereel,” I nodded in return.

“Mm!” Her brown eyes focused on me with laser intensity as Padme radiated interest and excitement—enough that I had to strengthen my mental shields a bit given her proximity and sheer exuberance. To my surprise however, she immediately toned it dow several notches. “You can’t be much older than me, since Zeltrons are just human offshoots who age at about the same rate as normal humans, so you’re probably not a Master. A Knight, then? Or maybe, um, one of the other positions? Guardian? Sentinel? Consular?”

“Knight and Master are ranks,” I explained as we crossed the green space of the park, people watching us as we went—though most of that attention was on me, given the display I’d put on in my practice. “Those ranks go from Initiate, to Padawan, Knight, and then Master. Initiates train to learn how to use the Force and begin learning the Jedi Code, and what it means to be a Jedi. They are then tested and move on to become a Master’s or Knight’s Padawan, their apprentice, assuming they’re chosen. A Padawan eventually takes the Jedi Trials to become a Knight, which allows them the freedom to act on their own. Eventually, a Knight would either take on their own Padawans and raise them to knighthood to be acknowledged as a Master, take a modified version of the Trials of Knighthood, attain experience and mastery of a field of knowledge or skill set, or perform some service to the Republic to get the Jedi High Council to promote them.”

Of course, there was another way that had been done historically. A Jedi Knight could judge themselves worthy of being called a Master, and so declare themselves a Master. The Council didn’t like that and it had been a while since it had last happened, but there was precedent.

Picking up where I’d left off, I continued, “Sentinel, Guardian, and Consular are branches within the order—job titles, essentially. Guardians are more martially focused and serve in more combat heavy roles. Consulars are more focused on the Force and tend to go into diplomatic roles. Sentinels go out and deal with the general public more often, usually combining their use of the Force with more mundane skills—usually law enforcement, investigation, peacekeeping, and other roles that allow them to use their skills to help people.”

“I see,” Padme nodded. “Which one are you?”

“I’m Padawan to Master Dooku.” And also technically either a Sentinel or Consular, since the Shadows tended to be recruited from either of those two fields, as long as the student had a focus on stealth and infiltration—but I couldn’t just go advertising that. “So, what made you want to join the Legislative Youth Program?”

At that, the girl’s smile faded. “I wanted to be like my father. So, I joined the Refugee Relief Movement with him, two years ago. We went to Shadda-Bi-Boran, where their sun was imploding.” I frowned, vaguely recalling hearing something about that—but like many causes advertised on tv, or the holonet, I hadn’t really paid attention. It was a bit like the occasional internet ad trying to solicit money for relief aid for children in Africa back on my original Earth—not my problem. “We helped relocate a lot of their civilians, focusing on the children. The Shadda people evolved to require a unique kind of radiation emitted by their star and it was hard to relocate them. They- everything was in vain. Most of them died soon after relocation. There are still some left, but… they’re also dying.”

Taking a breath, she said, “I want to help people. Yes, of course the people of Naboo first, but I don’t see why I can’t also help others.”

Ah. A bleeding heart. Just what the world needs more of, I thought, careful to keep my feelings from showing in my expression.

“I was hoping to one day represent Naboo in the Republic Senate,” she finished, her hopeful smile back.

I didn’t bother containing my reaction this time. “That’s a mistake.”

“Huh?” Padme asked, confused. “Why’s that?”

“The Senate is a cesspit of corruption and graft. Most of those that work on it are typically more concerned with holding onto their position than actually representing the will and interests of their constituents—and will actively vote against those things, if it secures them more funding, power, or whatever else it is they want.”

“Well, surely it’s not that bad. There have to be some good people on the Senate,” she tried.

I nodded. “I’m sure there are a few. But their voices are drowned out and they typically find themselves out-voted by those with a vested interest in seeing things go a certain way. You should prioritize. Would you rather focus on helping your people and actually making a difference, or would you prefer to sit and argue ineffectually with a bunch of people looking to screw everyone not in the Core?” Pausing for a moment, I said, “Let me put it another way. You and three other people beside you are both bleeding out. The other three are all unconscious. Whose wounds should you tend to first?”

Padme winced, a hurt look crossing her face. After a moment, she said, “I guess… myself, because if I don’t, then I could die before I even finish helping the first, and I can’t count on them waking up in time to help me.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Always take care of yourself and your needs first. On a larger scale, that means focusing on your own people will do more good than trying to help your neighbors. Make sure you’re in a position to help first, before you try.”

Padme sighed, but nodded. “I’d rather do whatever will do the most good, but if Naboo isn’t capable of helping, then I have nothing to offer.”

“And what do you think the first step should be to stop the bleeding, so to speak?” I asked, as I held open a door leading into the building for her, then followed behind, our footsteps echoing off the walls.

The younger girl considered for a few moments before humming. “Getting rid of the Trade Federation. They’re exploiting Naboo for their own gain. They won’t even train our own people to run the plasma extraction facilities. If they weren’t taking most of the money for themselves, we would be in a much better position to offer aid.”

Sending her a skeptical look, I asked, “Does Naboo have homeless? Indigent?”

“Well yes, there are some, but—”

“Then why are you trying to help others before helping yourself? Why are you betraying your people by trying to send others resources that would be better spent on them?”

Padme opened her mouth, then closed it as she frowned. After a few moments, she said, “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” I countered. “Look within yourself. Examine your feelings. Think about what you felt when you chose to go off-planet and help someone else, instead of choosing to stay on Naboo and help the people here. Then think about the feeling you would have if you had instead chosen to stay. Which feels better?”

The girl was silent for a few moments and I felt her frustration, then eventually a sense of realization. “…Because it felt good to go make a difference. I didn’t even consider helping anyone here. And,” she hesitated, briefly radiating shame, “it doesn’t feel as good to think about helping our own people?”

“Now ask yourself why that is. Where did the idea that it feels better to help others over your own people come from?” At her continued frown, I quickly added, “There’s no need to try to answer that now. Just be aware of it and act to counter it. Your first duty as a representative of your people is to your people, not to others. In all dealings with other worlds, you should be asking yourself how you can make sure Naboo benefits. It doesn’t have to benefit more than whoever you’re dealing with, but you shouldn’t willingly take the short end of the stick.”

“But it’s a core tenant of the Republic—” she tried.

“Do you serve Naboo or the Republic?”

I shook my head. “A person cannot serve two masters. You can either serve your people, or the Republic, but one of them will always come first.”

“They’re the same thing,” the girl argued, and I shook my head.

“They’re not. If you’re supposed to be serving one, but you serve the other over them, you’re a traitor.” Checking the door she had led us to, I said, “Something to think on. Thank you for showing me the way.”

Padme looked and felt a bit annoyed, but nodded and gave a polite curtsy before hurrying inside. I made my way in after and nodded to the professor, making my way over to introduce myself.

Young, idealistic, and naive. And she seems like the type to cling to her idealism. She reminded me a bit of Satine—before she’d had her attitude adjusted after she was taken captive and baptized in her captor’s blood and brains. I hoped it wouldn’t take the same thing to fix this one, but I had my doubts.

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Well, it’s not my problem, either way. I’ll be leaving Naboo in two days and I won’t have to deal with the aspiring senator again.

“I’m sorry things went as they did,” Senator Palpatine apologized as we rode with him on the way to the space port. “Unfortunately, the Trade Federation simply has too much influence here on Naboo, that even our queen would accede to their demands in order to spare our people economic hardship.”

“No, we expected this was the way it would go, the moment we knew they had decided to attend,” Master Dooku waved the other man’s concern off. “The offer still needed to be made to your queen in good faith, even knowing she would be forced to reject it.”

“Yes, appearances must be kept up,” the senator agreed with a nod. He continued, “It’s a shame you couldn’t stay longer.”

“We would love to. Naboo is a beautiful world. Very peaceful,” Master Dooku nodded, glancing out the window at the scenery going by. “Unfortunately, duty calls.”

“Too true,” Palpatine sighed. “Where will you go next?”

“Utapau, I believe,” Master Dooku hummed. “They are unlikely to join, but I would like to engage in some direct trade negotiations.”

“Yes, I see. A wise decision. Their world is rich in minerals and ships. They make downscaled warships, many of which are just variants of those produced by other companies. Moreover, they’re under an arms embargo by the Trade Federation, to prevent them from arming systems the Trade Federation wants to blockade. If I recall correctly, BTAD is headquartered there, aren’t they?”

Dooku shook his head. “They have a large manufacturing facility there, but they aren’t headquartered on Utapau. I hope to use that embargo to convince them that they have allies in the Mid- and Outer Rim. Even without an official alliance, having them as a trade partner would be beneficial.”

Humming, Palpatine considered for a moment. “Yes, I imagine their surplus of ships would be rather handy as escorts for trade convoys, allowing you to use the Mandalorian made vessels for local defense.”

“Just so,” Dooku agreed.

“Have you considered Mustafar?”

Dooku shook his head. “No. I’m aware that it’s a volcanic mining planet.”

“I believe their primary export is Mirkanite, found in the lava there. I hear it has several interesting applications. Now, who is it that controls Mustafar?” the man mused, glancing out the window as he thought. “Ah, I believe it’s the Techno Union.”

“It may be worth investigating,” Dooku agreed as the aircar came to a stop, setting down on the space port’s tarmac. He opened the door on his side while I opened the one on mine and we stepped out, Palpatine following Master Dooku.

“And what of your Padawan? Will young Tanya be accompanying you for the rest of these dull negotiations?” he asked, sending me a smile.

I grimaced. “If I must,” I grumbled, radiating annoyance as the man laughed.

Master Dooku chuckled. “Perhaps in the short term. In the long term, I have something else in mind for her.”

“Oh?” Palpatine asked, and Dooku merely smiled. “A secret then,” the senator chuckled. “Very well. I wish you both well on your travels. If you need my assistance, don’t hesitate to call. Unfortunately however, I must cut this short, as my own duties call. There are things I need to wrap up here before I make the journey back to Coruscant.”

“Oh course,” Dooku nodded. “Thank you again for your aid and hospitality, Sheev.”

“Thank you for the hospitality,” I echoed, nodding as well.

The senator waved and climbed back into his car, closing the door behind himself. It took off a moment later, leaving Master Dooku and I alone on the tarmac. We turned towards each other and I raised an eyebrow. The old Master shook his head once, minutely, and I gave a small nod in return.

“Come, apprentice. I believe it is time we left Naboo and made all haste for Utapau.” Master Dooku turned, his cloak swirling behind him, and made for his ship. I followed alongside, on the way to the Rusted Silver parked beside his. “Then from there, perhaps Mustafar.”

“‘Volcanic’ sounds hot, Master,” I made small talk for the benefit of anyone listening, even as I opened my senses further. I frowned with I found three individuals all paying undue attention to us—two somewhat nearby, refueling a ship, and a third some distance away, likely using listening equipment. “By which I mean miserable.”

Master Dooku chuckled. “As a Jedi, you must acclimate yourself to all manner of climates. There is no guarantee where your next mission will take you.”

I blinked at the emphasis on that, and the minute emotion he allowed to leak out—patience and anticipation. “Of course, Master. I’ll meet you in orbit and follow to Utapau.”

With that, I veered off and headed for my ship. Triggering the hatch release, I spotted Arthree just inside the entrance—holding the holdout blaster I’d put in his kit pointed at the entry. The droid beeped as I stepped inside and put away the blaster. Sealing the hatch, I asked, “Something wrong?”

The droid beeped the affirmative and, a moment later, projected a hologram. In it, the hatch opened and an unknown human man wearing overalls for the space port’s ground crew made to step in, only to freeze upon seeing Arthree pointing a blaster at him. He leapt backwards and took off running, and Arthree shut the hatch.

“I see,” I murmured. Spooling up a detection formula, I pinged the ship at the same time I opened myself up to the Force to feel for danger. I felt no danger, but I did notice something on the bottom of the ship, on the rear beneath the currently horizontal wings. It was small and putting off an RF signal, but I couldn’t tell where it was broadcasting to. Pointing a directed scan at Master Dooku’s ship, I found a similar device.

Considering what to do, I realized there was a simple solution: nothing. At least, for the moment. There was too much of a risk that Master Dooku’s ship had been successfully bugged where mine hadn’t, and I simply couldn’t detect whatever was planted in his ship—mostly because I wasn’t as familiar with his ship, whereas I knew mine like the back of my hand.

Moving to the pilot’s seat, I ran through a quick preflight check, then took off as Master Dooku’s ship began to rise, following his up and breaking orbit. A moment later, I received a hyperspace address transmission that resolved to Sullust. Sullust was on the way to Utapau from Naboo, and we’d have to take the same hyperspace lane most of the way there before changing over to another and continuing on to Utapau.

Quickly punching in the coordinates for Utapau, I sent them back. I received another transmission with Sullust coordinates, then sent Utapau back three times in sequence. There was a few seconds of pause, then I received a confirmation for Utapau. Only a minute later, both our ships jumped to hyperspace and I sighed, relaxing back into my seat for a moment before standing. Making my way to the back of the ship, I changed out of my armor and put it away, then out of my robe and into a pair of shorts and a loose shirt. Once I was comfortable, I settled in to do maintenance on my weapons.

I flinched when something warm and ticklish brushed up against my bare leg. I had just enough time to look down before I found my lap occupied by a large ball of fluff. For a moment, I simply stared down at the cat. Then, the damned thing began to knead my legs, sharp little claws digging into my thighs and making me use the Force to strengthen my skin to keep them from punching through like little needles.

“Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded of the animal, only for it to start purring, the vibration traveling up my legs and practically rattling my bones. “Get off.”

The cat didn’t move so, with an annoyed sigh, I pulled my chair under the desk and ignored it as I worked. Unfortunately, my close encounters of the feline kind didn’t end there.

When I meditated, the damned animal jumped into my lap between my crossed legs and made itself comfortable. When I took a sonic shower, it decided that was a good time to run between my legs. When I used the toilet, it sat in front of me and stared, holding my gaze the entire time. When I cooked food, it headbutted my leg hard enough to nearly take me off my feet until I gave it some of the chicken I was cooking. When I decided to turn in for the night, guess who decided that my chest was the perfect place to lay down and sleep.

All of that, I could put up with. It was the damn thing running across the cockpit’s console as I was bringing the ship in for a landing and simultaneously arming the targeting system and locking onto a passing hapless freighter and nearly sending us into a nose dive where I drew the line. I picked up the cat and practically flung it back towards my bed.

“Rusted Silver, this is Far Skies. Why are you targeting my ship?”

Answering the comm, I answered, “Sorry about that, Far Skies.” I quickly shut down the targeting system and fixed my ship’s cannons back to a neutral position. “The ship’s cat decided to run across the console.”

There was a brief pause, before I got an answer. “Ahh.” Never before had I heard so much understanding put into one syllable. “No harm done. Give the kitty a scratch for me. And in the future, you’ll want to dig into your system settings. A lot of older systems don’t have it, what with all the big, chonky buttons and switches, but the newer computers can recognize when something’s on the console that shouldn’t be. Safe flying.”

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll look into it. And you as well,” I acknowledged, before shutting down the transmission. A moment later, I had a lap full of cat, radiating annoyance. “Listen here, you little shit. Stay off the console,” I pointed at the console, then flashed anger and danger at it, emotionally. To my surprise, the cat looked at the console and back to me, before radiating understanding. A simple sense of understanding, but it was more than I was expecting.

Then, the animal decided to climb up on the back of my chair and sit there for some reason. Sighing, I ignored it as I brought us in for a landing in the designated area. Once we were down, I pushed the chair back and hopped up, pulling my lightsaber over and clipping it to my belt. Eyeing the cat now sitting in my chair, I made my way over and hit the physical shutdown switch for the console, just in case it got any ideas. Making my way outside, Arthree followed behind me as I walked back to the wing.

I felt Master Dooku approach as I found what I was expecting—a magnetic tracking device, now on the top side of the wing since I’d rotated them so I could see it better. “Apprentice, what do you have there?”

“Tracking beacon,” I answered, carefully pulling it off with the Force. “There’s another on your ship. Someone tried to break into mine a couple of days before we left, but Arthree dissuaded them. I’d like to let him run a few scans for anything left behind if they broke into yours.”

“That is quite concerning,” Master Dooku murmured. “I suspected something was wrong and you couldn’t communicate directly when you insisted on Utapau.”

“Sorry about that. We should really set up signaling lights or something on the exterior of the ships,” I mused as we headed over to his ship and I removed the second tracker. I sent Arthree inside and excused myself for a moment, making my way around the small space port. Finding what I was looking for in the form of a freighter that was just being unloaded, I grinned as I used the Force to stick one tracker on the side of one shipping container on the back of the ship and the other on another container on the same ship, far enough away to be believable as the distance between our two ships. With any luck, one of those containers would stay here, while the other would go somewhere else—that, or both would be emptied, then assigned to two different cargo ships.

Making my way back to Master Dooku, I found him inside his ship, arms crossed as he stared at a small, broken gadget. “It seems someone wanted to monitor our communications,” he said as I made my way inside, closing the hatch behind me. Moving over to his lounge area, he took a seat on the couch and I sat down across from him. “How did you deduce that Senator Palpatine was a threat? Better yet, when?”

“Arthree?” I asked, and the droid rolled over. Opening up his storage compartment, I removed Revan’s holocron, to a raised eyebrow from Master Dooku.

Studying it for a moment, he stroked his beard. “I recognize that holocron. I believe the last time I saw it was… in the Forbidden Archive of the Temple on Coruscant, some years ago. That you found it…” he hummed, before chuckling. “Sifo must have told you to go have yourself an adventure and break a few rules.”

“Not in those exact words, but that was the implication,” I agreed, before tapping the holocron.

A moment later, Revan’s projection appeared, standing equidistant between Master Dooku and myself. The former Jedi Master nodded. “Master Dooku. I am—”

“The Prodigal Knight. Or is it Darth Revan?” Dooku asked, studying the Gatekeeper’s projection.

“The former. This engram was made near the end of the original Revan’s life.”

Dooku’s eyes shot to me. “But there is no way to verify that claim.”

“No, there’s not,” I agreed. “However, he has been useful. It was Revan who warned me, after Serenno, that whoever approached you first after the end of that mess would most likely be the very person who had orchestrated it—or at least deeply involved.”

The older man nodded, leaning back a bit in his seat. “Yes, I suspected as much myself. As it turns out, the one who reached out to me was none other than Senator Palpatine. It all seemed rather too convenient.” He glanced at the holocron and the projection before meeting my eyes. “I won’t tell you to get rid of it. I will, however, urge caution.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “Our working theory, after you mentioned speaking with him and then told me we were going to Naboo, was that he was either a Sith or the pawn of one.”

“Oh? And did you uncover any evidence to prove or disprove this theory?” Master Dooku asked, voice curious.

I shook my head. “I didn’t need to.”

At that, I cast an illusion over the table between the three of us, replaying the events of the night of my little tour through Sheev Palpatine’s collection. Master Dooku sat and listened, then nodded along when I began highlighting pieces in his public collection that were dark or questionable.

“Yes, I saw those myself.”

“Did you see what was behind the wall?” I asked, and he shook his head. Advancing the playback, nearly the entire vault we entered glowed with various shades of highlighting—colored by intensity of dark side energy I had felt from each. “Either the man is an avid collector of Sith memorabilia, or he’s a Sith himself. I do have one question, though. Aside from the obvious, unsubtle attempt at a recruitment pitch, why would he show off his collection?” The rıghtful source is novèlfire.net

The answer came simultaneously, from both Revan and Dooku. The pair looked at each other before Dooku nodded. “Yes, I suppose one is as good as the other.”

“They like to brag. If you can get one talking, they’ll talk your ear off.”

“That explains why it felt like he was gloating when he was telling us all about how we could blame the entire thing with the Clawdite on an assassin. The son of a bitch set me up,” I grumbled. I wouldn’t be blindsided by another shapeshifter again. If I had to track down every planet belonging to every sentient species capable of it, I was going to find or make a way to tell when one was in my presence.

Turing back to me, Master Dooku asked, “You believe he was trying to recruit you?”

“Not primarily,” I shook my head. “After all, he approached you first, Master. I think I was just a target of opportunity.”

“I have known he was trying to ally himself with me for some time. Now, we know why,” he gestured towards the illusion.

Crossing my arms, I leaned back on my seat and shut off the illusion. “How should we proceed, Master?”

Dooku hummed, considering for a few moments, before giving his answer. “If he believes us none the wiser, then we have the element of surprise. So long as he thinks we are unaware, he will hopefully continue as he has been. That makes him predictable, and we can use that.”

“So, we won’t be going after him directly?” I asked, and Dooku shook his head.

Frowning, I asked, “Why not? I understand that as a Senator, he is very well connected and the political fallout will be enormous, but isn’t the vault and whatever we can pull from his computers likely all the evidence we need, as Jedi?”

“Possibly,” Dooku nodded. “However, should we eliminate this Sith, that does not necessarily mean we have removed the problem.”

I sent him a confused look, but it was Revan who answered. “Baneite Sith. Those Sith who follow the teachings of Darth Bane. Unlike the Sith that came before them, they follow Bane’s Rule of Two. Before, there used to be Sith by the score. After Bane? Just two. A Master and an Apprentice…”

“One to embody power, the other to crave it,” Dooku murmured, and Revan nodded. “Should we kill him now, it would alert the other Sith. We do not know if Palpatine is the Master or the Apprentice. Worse yet, Palpatine has friends within the Jedi Order—even the High Council.”

“There have to be a few people we can warn.”

“Yes, of course. Master Yoda, Qui-Gon, Mace. Those three, I am certain of. Beyond that, no.” Pausing, he sent me a questioning look. “And Sifo-Dyas. I did not ask before, because I wished to avoid having to lie should someone ask. Where is he?”

Raising an eyebrow, Master Dooku asked, “What is he doing on Kamino?”

“Well, I can’t say for certain,” I prefaced, and he nodded, motioning for me to go on. “But given the large amount of funds we gathered, the fact that Kamino is known for their cloning technology, and every time I’ve spoken with Jango since we left Serenno his personal holocom pings off of the Kamino relay… He’s probably there to make some clones and have Jango train them. How many and for what purpose, I don’t know for sure, but he did say that he fully believed a war was coming because he saw visions of it, so it could be an army’s worth for dealing with the Trade Federation.”

Chuckling, Master Dooku nodded. “Then one of us should go pay him a visit. Unfortunately, time is of the essence in establishing diplomatic ties, otherwise I would go myself.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go find him. Should I try to contact Masters Yoda or Windu?”

“No. No, leave those two to me,” he shook his head. “Though, if you could get in touch with Qui-Gon?”

“I’ll track him down,” I agreed.

“Good. Don’t take too long. In two months’ time, I’ll need you to rendezvous with me on Corulag, in the capital of Curamelle.”

“Will do.” Standing, I grabbed the holocron and stowed it inside Arthree. “Good luck with negotiations.”

“Try not to sound so enthused about missing them,” Master Dooku sent me a knowing look.

Smiling, I left with Arthree following. I’ll contact Obi and find out where they are, then plot my route accordingly. I can head by Zeltros on my way back from Kamino, and Jenza did say she wished she had a few more like me. Shouldn’t be too hard to find the ones either shielding themselves, or actively rejecting the ‘party vibe.’ I can make an offer, see what they say, then give them Jenza’s contact information and let them work it out.

While I’m at it, before I need to be in Corulag, I’ll visit Mandalore. I’ll have to ask Jango what Jaster’s favorite drink of choice is, because I owe him a bottle for that armor. And while I’m there, perhaps I can pawn this cat off on Satine. She seems the type to be susceptible to furry, cute things. If I can dump it on her, I won’t have to worry about it running across my console again—and maybe this time, accidentally firing a missile at someone important.

I shuddered at the thought. The absolute shame of being known as the Jedi who let her pet cat start a war, because it ran across her ship’s console…

I could never show my face again. I’d have to go into exile. Spend the rest of my life living in some hole in the ground.