Chapter 46: Chapter 46

A Young Girl’s War Between the Stars

Kamino, 39 BBY/961 GSC.

The ship jostled as we came down, bumping hard in the continental sized typhoon as rain hammered the hull so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think. It rolled off the forward view port, streaking the outside of the transparisteel and cutting visibility down to mere yards at best. Occasionally a bright flash of lightning danced between the clouds, or arced between the clouds and the water below. Behind me, I felt agitation from the cat from where it clung onto the top of my seat as its tail thrashed back and forth, occasionally smacking the side of my head.

Checking my sensors again, I made sure I was on course with the facility below. I picked up power and local transmissions, but very little going through the satellites overhead. Oddly enough, I hadn’t been challenged or even acknowledged on the way down.

I decelerated over the last mile and looked over the landing pad, finding Jango’s ship and a small fighter that looked like an older Jedi fighter. Carefully maneuvering over the pad, I set down nearby and shut off the engines, before hitting the switch to disable the console—just in time as the cat jumped down onto it and sat, staring outside into the rain as it radiated disgruntlement.

“Don’t like rain?” I asked, sliding my seat back and turning so I could leave the cockpit and make my way back. Opening up my locker, I grabbed my poncho and pulled it on, along with my lightsabers and pistol. Heading to the hatch, I raised an eyebrow as Arthree chirped and moved towards the exit. “You want to come too?”

The droid beeped the affirmative and I shrugged. “Alright. I hope you don’t get struck by lightning.”

The droid let out the single most exasperated beep I’d ever heard, before following me as I pulled my hood up and opened the hatch. Stepping out into gale force crosswinds, I winced and created a shield to keep the rain off as it came in sideways. Arthree hurried down the ramp and I closed the hatch, before making my way towards a lighted entryway at the end of the platform. No one met us at the door, and it didn’t open at our approach. Trying the panel, I found it locked, but there was what appeared to be a call button on the side so I pressed it.

“Yes?” came a female voice from the speaker, barely audible over the rain.

“Jedi Tanya Mereel to see Jango Fett and Master Sifo-Dyas,” I answered.

There was a brief pause, then, “We’ve been expecting you, Ms. Mereel. Please, come in.”

Raising an eyebrow, I stepped inside as the door slid open, Arthree rolling in behind me. We found ourselves in a small chamber and, as soon as the exterior door closed, blasts of wind and intense forces from multiple sonic emitters hit us from every angle, followed by several brief flashes of intense ultraviolet light—like standing in a combination wind tunnel, industrial sonic cleaner, and tanning bed.

The door on the other end opened and a very tall alien greeted me. It had very long proportions—long legs, long torso, long arms, long neck, and a normal sized head that looked small perched on top of it. “Greetings,” it, or rather she judging by the voice, spoke. The emotions coming off of her were muted and, while I could tell she had emotion, I couldn’t entirely tell what it was as it didn’t quite feel like anything I’d ever felt before. “Please, come this way.”

“Thank you,” I nodded, pulling my hood back as I walked, looking around and taking in the building around me.

The walls, ceiling, and even the floor were all a soft white—the lights of the facility seeming to make everything glow. The sound of the rain outside was a barely audible steady drumming, and aside from that and the sounds of our footsteps and Arthree’s casters rolling, the building was strangely silent. The air was cool, low humidity—especially compared to outside—and there was a smell of disinfectant in the air, much like a hospital. The entire place was very… sterile. Even my escort.

“So, this is a cloning facility?” I asked, and the Kaminoan nodded.

“It is. Our first batch of clones has finished maturing to the age at which we can begin training them physically. These first few batches are all experimental, of course. Working out the kinks. We would never stand for a defective product, so they will be decommissioned once they’ve served their purpose.”

I frowned, glancing up at the tall Kaminoan. “That seems like a waste of resources.”

“Allowances for waste such as these test batches have been made. Worry not, we do not charge our clients for test batches or defective product. The cost of development and testing is included in the price of the order, and we will replace defective product at no extra cost,” the tall alien explained, radiating… something negative, but I couldn’t put a name to what.

“That’s not the problem.”

The woman hummed, before nodding once. “Ah. Yes, I see. I am again reminded that humans and human-adjacent species have… attachment issues,” she murmured. “You are social animals. Bonding with each other, animals, and even inanimate objects is hard coded into your genetics. We have had a difficult time attempting to disable that mechanism, so instead we’ve found it’s better to simply work around it by focusing that bonding on each other, the client, and whatever task, cause, or group they are to serve. However, you have to understand that these are simply clones. It would be reductive and doing a disservice to our product and services to call them simply meat droids, but it is true that a clone’s life intrinsically has less value than that of a real person. You should not think of them as people, but as tools. Would you name your lightsaber? Talk to it? Treat it as an equal? No, of course not. No sane, rational sentient being would.”

Glancing down at me, she continued, “We have not had much of a chance to study your kind, so I would be very interested to know if your species bonds more or less deeply with others, given your nature.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not exactly your average Zeltron,” I shook my head. “But that’s beside the point. I meant, if you have resources you should use them instead of simply disposing of them—human resources, especially. You’ll invest time, money, effort, and training into those initial test batches. It would be a shame to get rid of them when you could instead use them to train the following generations. The purpose of elevating exceptional individuals into officers and promoting them is so that they will not just lead by example, but so they can train those under them to be better. How were you planning to train them? Hire outside experts, bring them in, train them in batches, and have those who were trained first train the ones that come after? If you’re going to do that, you may as well start with the first batch to have a ready crop of trainers. And if they’re all clones, don’t you think they’ll take that training better from other clones? Mimicry and mirroring are also something humans do, especially in the early developmental stages, but it’s especially prevalent in those who resemble each other.”

“I see,” the woman hummed. “I will pass your suggestion along.”

“I do have a question unrelated to the clones you’re making,” I said, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“By all means,” the woman nodded.

“You can clone entire people—presumably regardless of their race,” I led, and she nodded. “Can you clone individual organs? Body parts?”

The Kaminoan woman tilted her head slightly to the left. “Of course. But why would you want to? If you lost a limb, you could replace it with a a cybernetic prosthetic. They have advanced to the point where, with artificial skin, you can even feel. It would be as if the limb was never lost.”

“I’m attached to my limbs,” I shook my head. The truth was, I knew what happened to soldiers who had lost limbs in my second world. They were never quite as powerful as they had been, and their mana control was shot until they adapted. They could get a prosthetic made, but if they wanted to cast using it, that required turning the replacement into a focus, which was very time consuming and costly. I wasn’t quite sure how it worked here, but I’d rather have the option to get a full, biological replacement made than deal with a shoddy piece of garbage that wouldn’t channel the Force properly. There was another reason, of course…

“Besides. Your race don’t just clone. You improve. You’ve even done it to yourselves, haven’t you?” I sent her a knowing look. It was the temptation of everyone who messed around with cloning and genetics to eventually try to improve their people faster than the natural process of evolution—at least, in every piece of science fiction literature I had seen or read in my first life involving cloning or genetic technology. Well, that, or making bio-weapons—everything from plagues to perfect biological killing machines.

“We do,” she nodded. “And we did, yes. We are still improving ourselves to this day.” Pausing for a moment, she asked, “It does not disturb you?”

I shook my head. “No. As long as you’re not cooking up some super virus or something equally dangerous, what your people do to themselves isn’t really my business. But what if I said I was interested in seeing what you could do to improve my natural abilities with cloned replacement parts. For instance, my eyes. If I wanted to also see in ultraviolet or infrared.”

“Interesting. We would need some time to map your specific genetic sequence and to do research on splicing in the necessary genes. You would need to put down a deposit as well, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “I have a condition, however.”

“I don’t want any clones made of me. Even for testing purposes. Nothing descended from me. You can keep the genetic data and samples on file for replacement parts.”

The alien woman hummed, but eventually nodded. “It would increase the time required and the cost, but it could be done. I can show you to our office before you leave and set everything up.”

“That’d be great,” I agreed.

Stopping at a door, the Kaminoan woman pressed a button. “Master Sifo-Dyas, Ms. Mereel is here to see you.”

“Thank you. Send her in,” the man’s voice answered from a speaker beside the door, and the door slid open a moment later.

The tall Kaminoan gave a nod. “Please excuse me.”

As she left, we made our way into the room, the door closing behind Arthree. I found Master Dyas sitting cross-legged in front of a large window, looking out at the rain outside. He patted the ground beside him and I looked around, before pulling a cushion over with the Force and taking a seat.

“Tanya, it’s good to see you again,” he smiled. “How have you been?”

“You too. I’ve been well, Master Dyas. Have you been enjoying your break from the Temple?” I asked, earning an amused chuckle.

“It’s been peaceful,” the man nodded. “Though I’ll admit, I am starting to miss the excitement. Some days, I want to stretch my legs and go explore the galaxy—or at least go somewhere with land and trees.”

I nodded. “Yes, I couldn’t imagine being on a water planet for any great length of time.”

Master Dyas hummed, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, before turning his focus to the storm outside. “You wouldn’t have risked coming if it wasn’t important. Did something happen?”

“Arthree?” I asked, and the droid beeped, before running a scan. I pinged the room with a detection formula as well, but I didn’t see anything that looked particularly out of the ordinary. After a few moments, the droid beeped in the negative.

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“Well, if you’re that worried about security, then this is bound to be interesting,” Master Dyas mused.

“You could say that.” Taking a breath, I decided to go straight for the heart of the matter. “Master Dooku and I believe we’ve discovered a Sith.”

I felt the older Jedi’s surprise at that. He shifted, turning his pillow on the floor to fully face me as his friendly, affable demeanor dropped and he became suddenly intensely serious and focused. There was no doubt in him at all as he asked a single question.

Master Dyas closed his eyes, a frown on his face. I still sensed not a hint of doubt or skepticism as he opened his eyes and asked, “What evidence do you have?”

With that, I projected a little show I’d put together of all of the senator’s most suspicious moments. When it finished, I added, “And then there are our personal observations. Many of them can be put down to coincidence, certainly. However, a few cannot—such as his presence in the force. Either he has an artifact that does it for him—which is possible, given the wide range of artifacts he showed off—or he’s using a technique to diminish his Force presence to well below that of even someone who cannot use the Force at all.”

Master Dyas was silent for a few moments, simply processing. Finally, he spoke. “I see.” A smile pulled at his lips. “Then it seems my little vacation has come to an end.” At my raised eyebrow, he explained, “Sith always work in pairs—Master and Apprentice. Someone needs to determine if Palpatine is the Master or the Apprentice, and locate the other Sith. Dooku can’t do it, because he has Palpatine’s attention. Even if you got rid of the tracking devices, odds are good that the agent Palpatine has following Dooku around will pick up his trail again. As for you, Palpatine knows how you think and operate now. He’ll be expecting you to try something, if you suspect him—and Sith are a paranoid bunch. He’s surely planned around the possibility. No, it’ll be better if you’re far away and you’ve got a solid alibi. That way, at least he doesn’t believe you’ve caught on. You need someone he’s not expecting and after all, I’m already dead. Outside of the Kaminoans, only four people know for certain that I’m not. I’ll get a face job and no one will recognize me.”

His plan was sound, and Master Dyas was right—we really did need someone to investigate Palpatine. “I have some automated slicing tools if you need them.”

“I’ll take them,” he chuckled. “I’ll need to go trade in my fighter for a civilian vessel and pick up a blaster. Definitely need to ditch the robes.”

Considering for a few moments, I said, “Zeltros has advanced holographic technology. Practically everyone on the planet took an interest, including me. If you want, I’m heading there anyway. I can pick up some equipment and throw together something to create a disguise, or cloak you. It won’t pass muster under scanners, but it would fool the naked eye.”

“That sounds perfect,” he nodded. “If you’ll do that while I get that face job done, you can leave it somewhere I can pick up and let me know where to find it.” Pulling his spare lightsaber off of his belt, he hummed as he studied the weapon. “Can’t just go waving one of these around, either. But maybe…”

“Maybe?” I asked, curious how he intended to keep and use a lightsaber without giving himself away. There was always the option for heavy stealth—that is, it still counts as a stealth mission if there are no survivors, one of my favorite tactics from the war any time we had to cross the trenches—but I highly doubted Master Dyas would take it to the extreme of killing any witnesses.

Not looking up as he turned the saber over in his hands, he explained, “You know I liked to poke my nose where it didn’t belong. Especially into the more esoteric things. I didn’t, and still don’t, agree with the High Council for sealing away a lot of the old knowledge from before the Ruusan Reformation.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I loved history, because it was one of the things what was harder for them to restrict, and if you read between the lines you could intuit certain things. The occasional technique, tactic, or even equipment that Jedi simply don’t use anymore. There were a few references I came across to more unique crystals—alternatives to simple kyber. Krayt dragon pearls and things like that. References to methods of forging your own kyber crystal, which are now considered ‘dark’ by the High Council. There was one that was especially interesting, however…”

I sent him a look that said ‘get on with it’ and Master Dyas returned it with an amused smile of his own, apparently enjoying dragging it out. “It was said that on a handful of planets in the Outer Rim, on or near high mountain peaks, nearly invisible stone formations would sometimes grow. Sometimes, rarely, among these invisible spires would be a type of crystal very similar in properties to kyber, save that it was glass-like in its transparency. The blades of the lightsabers crafted using these crystals were rumored to be like glass themselves in their translucency and were apparently silent, missing the typical hum of an active lightsaber.”

“That sounds useful,” I murmured. “What were they called?”

“Ghostfire crystals.”

A lightsaber made using one would be useful, certainly. I would love to have one for stealth operations and instances where I need to sneak a lightsaber in somewhere and not be detected using one. However, a sniper rifle made with one of those would be perfect. It would eliminate the largest downside to using a blaster rifle—that is, giving away your position every time you fire.

“Any idea where we can find some?” I asked, a smile pulling at my lips at the thought of a practically invisible and silent sniper rifle.

“Afraid not,” Master Dyas sighed, slipping his lightsaber back onto his belt. “But it occurs to me that I know someone who happens to be very good at getting into and out of places she shouldn’t, and tracking down information others would prefer stay buried…”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, barely. “I have business at the Temple on Coruscant. I’ll do some research while I’m there. In the meantime, I’ll set my computer to compiling a list of Outer Rim planets that fit the description of having a breathable atmosphere, low- to mid-level population, and with mountainous regions.”

“Why the population limits?” Master Dyas asked with interest.

“If they were more populated, we’d have heard more about these crystals by now. That we haven’t implies those planets have low or no populations, or are particularly dangerous.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed.

“That should hopefully narrow down the candidates to only a handful. After that, I’ll have to investigate and hope we get lucky.”

Master Dyas smiled. “I have faith that the Force will lead you to what we need. Now,” he sighed, pushing himself to his feet and offering me a hand up, “as much as I would love to continue this conversation, I should begin preparing to depart.”

I nodded. “I’ll go get the slicing equipment. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Arthree and I made our way back to the entrance. I left Arthree to open the door for me and quickly retrieved the gear Master Dyas would need. I would have to replace it, of course, but it was due for an upgrade soon anyway and I already had ideas on how I could improve from the original model. Making my way back, I handed the gear off to Master Dyas before tracking down Jango.

As it turned out, Jango wasn’t alone. I found him in a training room, sparring with a familiar female Mandalorian—Sheeka Tull, if I remembered her name correctly. She had been part of Jango’s unit for the Serenno mission and I knew they’d had a relationship—or as close to it as I imagined most soldiers on the front line ever had—but I hadn’t realized she had tagged along for this.

The taller man smiled as I entered the room, calling a halt to his sparring session. He and Sheeka made their way over, collecting their water bottles. “Tanya, it’s been a while,” he greeted, offering his hand.

I clasped his forearm, then did the same for Sheeka. “I’ve been busy, since the mission to Tython ended. Have you just been sitting here this whole time?”

“Nah,” Jango shook his head, moving over to a chair and sitting down as we joined him. “We only have to check in every couple of months to let these guys do more scans and take more samples.”

“‘We?’” I repeated, and Jango nodded, but it was Sheeka who answered.

“The Kaminoans are using both of us as the templates for their clones. It was Sifo’s idea. He seemed to think an entire army of identical men would lack something to fight for, even with whatever training the Kaminoans are giving them. That, and they might have other psych issues. So it was better to pair them up with female clones.”

Blinking, I frowned as I considered the ramifications. After a moment, I asked, “Will they be sterile…?”

“The Kaminoans thought of that,” Jango chuckled. “Not sterile, but they’re all getting an implant to make sure accidents don’t happen. Once the war’s over and the clones can retire, Sifo said it would be nice to let them live out the rest of their lives like normal people, and being able to have children would give them something to look forward to.”

“And fight harder for, no doubt,” I murmured, earning a pair of nods.

“So, what have you been up to? Killed anyone important lately?” Sheeka asked, a smirk on her face as she radiated amusement, glancing at Jango expectantly.

Raising an eyebrow, I wagged a hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “Only the bodyguard or body double for Viceroy Nute Gunray.”

“Pay up,” Sheeka held out her hand.

“Hold on. That doesn’t count,” Jango shook his head.

“Bantha shit,” Sheeka grumbled. “It should count.”

Looking between the two of them, I asked, “Did you bet on whether or not I would kill someone?”

“No, no. Absolutely not,” Sheeka denied.

Jango nodded. “That was never in doubt,” he grinned. “No, the bet was on whether it’d be someone important. Regime changing important. Politicians, businessmen, Hutts, that sort of thing.” Shooting an annoyed look at Sheeka, he added, “A bodyguard for one of them doesn’t count. Those guys get paid for being a meat shield.”

I stared at the two of them. “It was one time.”

“It was at least three that we know of,” Jango countered, then began ticking off fingers. “Tor. The leader of that pirate group. Then Dooku’s brother, what was his name?”

“Ramil,” Sheeka supplied.

I opened my mouth to argue, only to close it again with a click. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I shook my head. “Fine. Does it help if the bodyguard was a clawdite?”

Jango frowned. “No, but did you get their name?”

“I didn’t ask. I was a bit busy beheading her at a formal event on Naboo to intimidate the leader of the Trade Federation and remind him why it’s a bad idea to try to assassinate Jedi. Why?”

“Nothing. We’ve had some dealings with a Clawdite merc in the past. Probably just a coincidence. There are an entire group or sect of them that are trained to infiltrate places and act as bodyguards, assassins, and whatever else,” Jango shrugged.

Sending me a curious look, Sheeka asked, “So, what brought you out here anyway? Wild Space isn’t exactly a vacation hot spot and Kamino’s kind of off the beaten path. Hell, off the maps now, even.”

“Ah. I had to relay some information to Master Dyas in person. He’ll be leaving on a mission, by the way. He may not return for some time.”

“What’s the mission?” Jango asked.

Considering how to answer that, I must have taken a bit too long because he and Sheeka exchanged a look, before she murmured, “Sounds like one of those.”

“Yeah,” Jango agreed.

“Covert, dangerous, important, and need-to-know—and you don’t need to know,” Jango chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, we’ve done our share of black ops.”

“Mm,” I nodded. “Thanks for not pressing.”

“How about we head back to our quarters? I’m starting to reek,” Sheeka wrinkled her nose, and Jango nodded.

“Sure,” he stood, gesturing for me to follow.

“By the way,” I began as we started down the hall, “what’s Jaster’s favorite drink? I owe him a bottle.” Thɪs chapter is updated by novel-fire.net

The pair traded another look at that. “That’s a story that sounds worth telling. Was it the assassination attempt you mentioned?”

“Very well,” I agreed as we entered a set of quarters. I took a seat on their couch while Arthree came to a stop beside me and we waited for the pair to freshen up and change clothes. A few minutes later, they left the fresher and Jango took a seat across from us while Sheeka opened a refrigerator in their small kitchen. She came back with a trio of cans of some carbonated beverage and I accepted one. Popping it open, I took a sip of the fruity drink and nodded, before I started.

“I’ll start at the beginning. When we arrived on Naboo…”

Kamino, 39 BBY/961 GSC. En-route from Kamino to Zeltros.

The beeping of the ship’s holocom terminal drew me from my meditation and work on my computation orb. Standing, I moved over and checked the ID of the caller. Unfortunately, it was not a live call but a recording. Still, seeing who it was, I smiled and answered.

Obi’s image appeared in the middle of the projection. In the background, I could make out a thick forest. “Sorry Tanya, I called as soon as I could,” she said with a smile. “We’re a little busy here! And reception is kind of awful. I got your message though, and relayed it to Master Qui-Gon. We’re on Alaris Prime, a little moon orbiting a gas giant in the Kashyyyk System—trying to help some Wookiee colonists. He said you’re welcome to join us, we could definitely use the help. But you should be careful, because the Trandoshans have a small fleet blockading the moon and the Trade Federation has a base down here somewhere churning out battle droids.”

Well, that was bad. Not terrible, but not good. If the Trandoshans were acting as a puppet for the Trade Federation, then they were likely prepared for someone to try running or crashing the blockade. If it was me, I would have left a minimal force in orbit while hiding my main force, specifically so the enemy could approach, try to run the blockage or challenge it, damage my ships, then come to the rescue. Then, if I could identify the enemy force, I’d phone back to my allies and start making formal legal claims.

That means, the best way to take them out is going to be sabotage. A repeat of Serenno perhaps—

Obi continued, pulling my from my thoughts. “I know you. You’re probably already thinking of doing something insanely dangerous. Don’t.” She glared at me through the projection, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll be really mad if you put yourself in danger like last time!”

Hmm… Angry Obi versus dead enemies…

“And you’re probably already weighing the pros and cons. Stop!”

Damn. She really had thought of everything. Everything except—

Putting her hands on her hips, she leaned towards the recording device. “I’ve turned on receipt acknowledgement, so don’t bother deleting it either.”

“Shit!” I cursed quietly.

“Anyway, if you can avoid doing something crazy, I- I mean we’d be happy to have you.” Clearing her throat, she continued. “Anyway, we shouldn’t be more than a year here at most if you’d rather wait. A lot of it is just waiting for the Senate to stop dragging their heels and defending the place in the meantime.” The sound of blaster fire came from somewhere behind her and Obi sighed. “I have to go. Back to work, it seems. I’ll see you later.”

The hologram cut out and I hummed, considering what I’d learned. Reaching out, I tapped at the controls and brought up the galaxy map.

I was currently heading back towards the Core on the Corellian Run, passing through the Mid-Rim, having departed from grid coordinate S-15. Kashyyyk was northwest of Zeltros a short distance across one of the narrowest sections of the Mid-Rim via a connecting hyperspace lane—the Great Kashyyyk Branch. It wouldn’t take but a day at most to get to Kashyyyk from Zeltros.

My first impulse was to go help Obi and Master Qui-Gon.

However, if I went now, I’d be going in unprepared. Or less prepared than I could be. I would be potentially putting not just myself but them in danger, as well as the Wookiee colonists, and could potentially kick off a shit-show with the Trade Federation.

But it’s going to be at least a week up the Corellian Run, get off on the Hydian Way, then stop at Serenno and hope Cindy has my ship ready. I highly doubt she does. If she doesn’t, I could possibly scrape together a crew. Not to mention, it’d be really nice to have a squad of marines, Mandos, or something for backup.

Forcing myself to take a mental step back, I went back over what Obi had said.

They’re not begging for backup. She seemed to believe they could handle it without me. That could change, but at the moment they seem to have the situation fairly well in hand. I have some time. If I’m going to do this, I’ll do it right.

That decided, I began making calls.