Arc 2 Chapter Six

Jorel was coming to realize that life in the military was, in its own way, very like life in the Temple. Oh, they couldn’t seem more different in a variety of ways. The food was better, clothes were more comfortable, and he had a definite sense of doing something as part of Knight Er’izma’s legion, however informally, but the pace of life could be described in the exact same way.

Hurry up and wait.

Oh, a Jedi wants to talk to a lowly Initiate like you? Better Hurry! Oh, he’s actually busy with something so you needed to sit until he was ready, where any distraction would be held against you for ‘lacking focus’? Better Wait!

And both states of activity and inactivity came without warning, without explanation, and without any set end. Well, in the Temple they had. In the Flock Jorel found he often found he had all three, though that didn’t make the waiting any less annoying, but then again without a Temple Elder around to notice his annoyance he didn’t have to hide it.

I’m comparing life in the Military to the Temple. Why is the Military winning? Jorel couldn’t help but think, before shaking his head. No, the only reason things were better here was that this was a Jedi-run military unit, which, other than the fact that it wasn’t supposed to exist because of something he vaguely remembered hearing about in the Temple, wasn’t that bad.

In a way, Jorel thought he should be grateful, being left behind to sit around. Getting dragged down on diplomatic meetings was really kriffing boring. He’d only been brought to a dozen or so, but they were always tedious. They’d arrive, the locals would be surprised, they’d meet with the leaders, the leaders would flagrantly lie to their faces, Er’izma would, with varying degrees of subtlety, remind them of the small army he had at the ready, and then the leaders would be, if not honest, then less duplicitous.

Then would come out the double-talk, and the ‘I’m a Jedi, who are you trying to fool, I know exactly what you mean’ implications from Er’izma, and then the haggling, so much haggling, and then they’d be done. Heck, most of the time they didn’t even need to use their forces, just the threat was enough, prompting the Padawan to ask if they really needed to tow around a small army wherever they went, now intimately aware of how many credits doing so actually cost.

“Ah, welcome to the paradox of war, young Jorel,” Er’izma had smiled. “For it is when you have the required forces, that you do not need to use them, and only when you do not have the required forces, does their need make itself known. It is because of their presence that we may do things the. . . subtle way.”

“‘Subtle way’?” Jorel had repeated incredulously. “What’s subtle about a battlecruiser in orbit above their capital city?”

“The fact that said capital city is not on fire,” the Knight had replied easily. “Jedi are not unkillable gods, Padawan, even if many act as if they are, so sure that the Force will protect them personally, instead of the galaxy as a whole. Even those who present a façade of invincibility know that if, for example, the king of the planet they’re there to help is trying to kill them, they are going to need a good amount of chaos and misdirection to get to the one that can call off the hunters. Or at least the Force tells them what they have to do, which is, on the outside, the same,” the older man had said, having made clear his distaste of trusting the Force without reservation. “Which works, right up until it doesn’t.”

Jorel thought he could see where this was going, but had to ask, “But they’re still trying to kill Jedi. They have to know that it won’t work, or, if it does, it’s only a matter of time before more show up.”

“That is what the Temple suggests,” Er’izma had nodded, “but to address your main contention, Padawan. Most politicians do not understand the Force.”

“Most Jedi don’t understand the Force,” the Padawan had shot back with a bit of a smug grin. “At least according to Grandmaster Yoda.”

Said smug grin had died under the unimpressed look of his Jedi Master. The larger man had, eventually, noted, tone cold, “You’d be best to ignore the words of those like the Grandmaster, Padawan. Do so because they know so much more than you, and have forgotten what it was like not to know, that they can truly think they are helping, yet set you astray with every phrase. In the most abstract sense, Master Yoda is correct, in that no one truly understands the Force perfectly. However, such advice could just as easily lead one to disregard the words of those wiser than themselves because they don’t ‘understand’ the Force, just as easily as the blanket advice to trust the words of one’s elders could lead to slavish, unthinking obedience. However, as you know, that is not what I meant.”

Jorel had nodded, chastised, and tried to return to their original topic. “So, most leaders can’t understand the Force; so they underestimate it?”

“Indeed,” Er’izma had nodded in return. “The masses might see Jedi as unknowable, nigh magical, warriors of legend, but leaders, who know full well how the beliefs of the publics may be amiss, may even be responsible for the public’s misunderstanding of important topics, believe themselves intelligent and wise. Most are the former, but not the latter, and so think themselves superior for ‘understanding’ how the Jedi cannot be even half of what people think they are. However, those people are acutely aware of the power of belief, and so they ‘know’ that Jedi are threats which must be removed, but do not fear them enough to stay their hand, or obey a Jedi’s orders. A couple dozen turbolaser batteries, aimed at their military installations, however, is something they can understand.”

And so Knight Er’izma was meeting with the leaders of the government of the Pengalan system. Well, of Pengalan V, which was the only truly habitable planet in the system. Pengalan VI was an icy tundra, lacking in any resources, and while there were some mining towns on Pengalan IV, it was a hot, desert planet even Jorel didn’t want to go to, let alone the more arcticly inclined Chiss. Thankfully, the Legion was rarely deployed, and even if they were to be, the more varied climates of Pengalan V, made of forests and swamps and plains and mountains, seemed much more comfortable.

All of which led to his current circumstances, waiting for his Master to return, having instructed Jorel to stay behind, for reasons he refused to explain. At least, unlike in a diplomatic meeting, Jorel was free to browse the holonet until Er’izma was finished. Honestly, Jorel wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and his thoughts turned to Anaïs, but there was no useful push from the Force, telling him to look up some planet or another, only a sense of distant longing.

“The General is returning!” came the announcement, an hour later, and Jorel dropped his datapad on his desk, standing. Sergeant Hisku, who’d been looking something up on her Datapad from his couch, mirrored the action.

They were both armored, in case negotiations became. . . aggressive, but they apparently hadn’t. Despite that, though, the Padawan couldn’t help the feeling that things weren’t going to go as smoothly as they seemed.

Sure enough, Hisku looked into the distance, listening to something from the commpiece in her ear, and wheeled around to look to Jorel. “We’re to meet the General in his office.”

Nodding, the two of them made their way through the ship, everyone still at low-alert, and waited for Er’izma to arrive. He did so almost half an hour later, with his XO trailing, the stern-faced Togrutan woman looking even more annoyed than normal. Smiling at the Padawan and his attaché, the Knight gestured for the pair to follow him in, taking a seat behind his desk as the older woman stood behind him, and to his right. Mirroring him, Jorel sat in the one of the two chairs before the Jedi’s desk and Sergeant Hisku stood behind him, instead of taking the other seat.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you not to attend the meeting with Pengalan’s governmental body,” the Knight announced, waiting for the Padawan’s nod before continuing. “It was to keep open certain. . . options. Certain options that some disagree with,” he added, shooting a professionally amused look over his shoulder at Senior Commander Zara. “However, I have to ask, young Jorel, do you think you are ready for deployment?”

What? The Padawan thought, surprised, sitting up straighter. His first instinct was to say not only yes, but hell yes! However, he could practically feel Sergeant Hisku’s objection behind him, even if, restricted by formality as she was, she wouldn’t say anything until after he’d answered ‘incorrectly’. And, more than that, he knew what she would say, and, at least in one respect, she wasn’t wrong.

“No,” the young man sighed, after a long moment of thought, the admission almost painful. He’d wanted to go out and do something, but he also had to be realistic about his capabilities, lest he and Hisku be captured again, or worse. “No, I’m not.”

Er’izma didn’t reply, only raising a single eyebrow, so the Padawan explained, “Watching the troops take down that fake-freighter, I’m not there yet. I’ve been getting better at fighting on my own, but I haven’t trained with groups. I’d just get in the way, and it hasn’t been part of what I’ve been learning, Master.” And the implied because that’s the way you’ve arranged my training hopefully didn’t need to be said.

The Knight smiled, glad at his Padawan’s ‘humility’ or whatever, but his words surprised the younger man. “Then it’ll be good that you won’t need any of that for the mission I have in mind for you. Are you ready for deployment, not in a formal squad, but as you are now?”

“What are you going to have me do?” Jorel asked in turn, confused, but the other Jedi just continued to smile enigmatically. “Then, I mean, I guess so? I need to know what you’re asking of me, Master, before I can tell you if I can do it.”

“A good attitude to have, but one the galaxy rarely lets one indulge in, especially in our line of work,” Er’izma agreed, which didn’t answer his question at all.

However, in response to that incredibly vague statement, Jorel had to clarify, “Being a Jedi?”

“Combat,” the military leader disagreed, “Though being attuned to the Force makes those problems both exponentially worse, while also many times more survivable. Do you think, if you were in a combat situation, you could extract yourself and Ms. Hisku’biatha’pusi? Assume an enemy force of similar strength to the one you escaped on Dell, and with fighter support in approximately three minutes if needed.”

Without that last bit, Jorel would’ve said no, but if they’d had that back then, they could’ve called in a strike, bunkered down, and escaped in the confusion. “With that enemy force, and reinforcements, then yes,” he answered confidently. He’d thought about what’d gone wrong, about all the ways they could’ve escaped, or asked for help, or just taken another way out of that factory serving as a front for slavers. He wasn’t sure if those would’ve worked, but these last few months Jorel hadn’t spent idle, able to train under an instructor that had pushed him, in a way the Temple Masters had refused to for years, and he was confident of his abilities to do that.

And if he failed, like he’d failed then? He had a poison-covered trump card in his back pocket, a black ace he’d rather not use ever again.

Jorel’s Master nodded, sending the Padawan such an understanding look the younger man wondered if the Knight had read his mind. “In that case, you are being assigned to Captain Victbray Thul for the duration of hostilities here, unless I reassign you. Remember, no matter what he, or anyone else may say, order, or imply, if you have to choose between completing the mission, and surviving, you are to survive, but it must be a decision between the two, am I clear?”

“Yes, Master,” the Padawan nodded, recalling their conversation after Dell, and on the worth of his life, compared to that of others. He didn’t like what his Master had said, but Jorel was a Padawan learner, so he’d go along with it. At least for now.

The older man shifted his gaze to Hisku. “That goes for you as well, Sergeant. The mission may be important, but it does not come first, understood?”

While her reply of, “Yes, Sir!” was almost automatic, Jorel could hear the unease in her voice, wanting to disagree but simultaneously not wanting to do so to her commanding officer. Almost despite herself, she spoke again, hesitantly putting forward, “But, sir, that isn’t how I was trained.”

“Sergeant,” Commander Zara rebuked, but Er’izma held up a forestalling hand.

“Sergeant,” the Jedi Knight stated, straddling the line between impersonally professional and kind. “If you were part of your previous squadron, you would be correct, but you are not. Your central mission, which will not change, is to assist Padawan Drettz, and to keep him, if not in one piece, then alive. If you die, you cannot do that, so, pursuant to that directive, your life comes before whatever mission you may have at the moment, unless I deem otherwise. I have seen far too many good soldiers throw themselves on a grenade to protect others, when merely kicking the damn thing to the side would’ve almost certainly achieved the same result. Am I understood?”

Hisku’s “Yes, Sir!” was a lot more crisp, though Jorel, even without meaning to, could still feel her inner turmoil and uncertainty. And if he could feel it, the General certainly could as well, but made no further comment, instead turning his attention back on the younger man.

“In that case, you are to serve as my eyes and ears on this planet, Padawan Jorel. The Force itself suggested this course of action, which is why you have not been publicly seen at my side by the Pengalan government. They have made many statements about the nature of this conflict, of a revolt by workers in the countryside who refuse to follow the will of the people, but I have. . . doubts. You will work under Captain Thul to insert yourselves in the ‘Resistance’, and discover that which would be hidden from our forces otherwise. You will keep your armor, but you must hide your lightsaber, and your status as a Jedi. Similarly, Sergeant Hisku’biatha’pusi, you will be issued field-armor to wear. It will not be as complete as your normal set, but should do the job without raising suspicion. Any other questions can be answered by your commanding officer. Dismissed.”

Jorel stood, but still had one question that he was sure only the Knight could answer, “Master, if the Force told you we should do this, why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because, Padawan, what the Force suggested does not matter,” the ancient Jedi stressed. “If you were not ready, you might become so during the mission, perhaps even ‘discovering something about yourself’ during the following events,” the older man almost sneered, his disgust rippling outwards through the Force, “or you would’ve died, as you almost did on Dell, had you not been supremely lucky. Remember, Padawan Jorel, the Force is an advisor, not your Master, and cannot be trusted the way you are to trust me. I will not sacrifice you for any reason, the Force has, and will again, if followed blindly.”

The man’s darker feeling subsided as quickly as they had appeared, replaced only with calm weariness. “I have lost Padawans who trusted the Force blindly and implicitly, who put their Faith within that which does not honor such an act, and I will lose Padawans in the future who do not listen. I do not wish for you to be one of them. Stay safe, both of you.”

Navigating the maze of corridors, they found the ready room that was being used by the Captain, two dozen other men and women already seated, going over datapads, all of whom lazily looked up as the pair walked in. An older man, dark haired, but gray at the temples, nodded to Jorel and Hisku. “Welcome. Glad to see the General was right,” he commented, his pronunciation oddly crisp.

That statement caused the focus of the others to tighten on them, several eyes darting down to the saber on Jorel’s hip. “We got a Paddy?” a reptilian man groaned, green scaled brows knitting in annoyance. “Babysittin’ isn’t what I signed up for.”

“That Padawan could kill you in about thirty seconds flat,” the older man told the Nikto, Jorel only recognizing the species because of a Jedi at the Temple of the same race. “Not like the last two. Do read the reports I send you.”

“The last two?” Jorel asked, frowning, but the Captain shook his head.

“Not important, how much has the General briefed you?” the older man asked in turn.

Sharing a look with Hisku, the Padawan replied, “Not much. We’re undercover, and I can’t show that I’m a Jedi. That’s it.”

Captain Thul sighed, “Alright. We’re doing a pretty standard Guerilla Insertion ploy. Groups like this Resistance tend to recruit from everyone, they have to in order to function, while trying to keep a central core of personnel. This makes them weak to infiltration. That’s where we come in. We’re going to be landing in a stealth craft and disembarking in the town of Kernast, here, which translates to ‘Edgewater’ in the old language of this planet, most likely named because it sits at the edge of the water,” he explained dryly, the display behind him indicating a port-side town. “They’ve got a small spaceport, and from what we can find out, a bit of a smuggling problem. Alpha team, led by myself, will disperse and spread the rumor that the local government is going to hit it, and hit it hard. They’ve asked us to do so, which means the rumor has the benefit of being true, so the moles the Resistance has in the government will confirm our story.”

“Wait, when you say ‘hit’. . .?” Jorel asked.

The older man nodded. “Targeted orbital bombardment. It’s a dumb kriffing move, and one that’ll do the opposite of what the government should want, which is why we’re looking behind the scenes. That town’s is going to be wiped off the map, and a lot of people are going to die, but less than if we hadn’t warned them. That will also give us our in. You see we,” he waved around the room, “are ‘smugglers’. After the first ship tried to escape and got shot down, we ran for the hills, and are joining the Resistance to get revenge. Gamma Team, it’ll be your job to steal a ship and set it to fly out remotely, for the Dove to blow out of the sky.”

“Yes, Sir,” a horned woman nodded, the protrusions forming a crown that poked up through her hair, her face marked with discolorations that almost looked like tribal tattoos. “Wire it to blow in upper atmo if we need it?”

The Captain considered that, then shook his head. “No, we don’t know their surveillance capabilities. If the Dove doesn’t hit it, either the Cranes will, or someone’ll board it. Delta team, your group will be looking for resistance contacts to offload weapons. We’ll give a crate or two of bugged blasters, with more ‘on your ship’ to sell them. If none of us can make contact, contact us and the real smugglers to offer us all an in.”

“Understood,” a Chiss man with long hair nodded, professional expression shifting to a criminal’s easy smile. “War sucks, but it sure does make for good business.”

“Indeed,” Thul remarked dryly, “Beta team, you’ve got Padawan Jorel. You’ll be playing bait, the kind of well-meaning strays smugglers like to pick up. You don’t know the situation on the ground, only that your captain, yours truly, decided we were coming here next.” Looking over to Jorel, the Captain explained, “Guerilla organizations do a surprising amount of recruiting by ‘informing’ young dumb children of their ‘plight’. They all whitewash it, of course, but how much they do is part of what we’re here to find out.”

“I’m not a dumb young kid,” Jorel objected, prompting laughs from half the squadron.

“Kid, you’re fresh from the Temple,” the horned woman informed him. “For this, ya still are.”

He wanted to argue, but got the sense that any more objections would just be taken as proof, so held his tongue.

“Regardless of your actual status, you’ll seem to be enough of one to catch the notice of their recruiters,” the Captain informed him, blunting the insult a little. “But you move differently enough it needs to be accounted for. Alpha and Beta teams will be from one ‘ship’, Gamma and Delta from another. When we’re in, try to keep in touch, but do not push it. They will try to separate us to lessen our existing loyalties and leave us dependent on them. Those of you who can operate independently, do so if you have to, those of you who can’t pick one or two others and refuse being cut off from them, but let them split you up into different cells.”

Beside the Padawan, Sergeant Hisku stiffened. “Sir, I have orders to stay with Padawan Jorel,” she stated firmly, ready to fight him on it.

However, Captain Thul just smiled. “I meant that for the others, Sergeant. I’m aware of the General’s. . . practices. No, there’s only one way you two will be allowed to stick together in a situation like this. It will be one you will need to sell convincingly, and one you will need to not budge on.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it!” Jorel’s attaché promised, which prompted chuckles from those assembled. “What?”

“Well,” the Captain remarked, glancing between the two of them with an amused smile. “The only way you’ll be able to stay together, is if you two are lovers.”