Book 2 Chapter 34

"You want us to what?" Jorel questioned skeptically.

"Kill General Telane," Dilvax Lonlen smiled, at the smaller meeting after his announcement. The man hadn't had a real plan in place, only having decided it was time to make one. It was a little odd, but of the dozen people in attendance, at least three of them seemed not to be happy about the fact that they were moving forward, and two more seemed unhappy at their leader's newest statement. "While we've got allies, as long as he's around, he's going to be an issue," the blond man stated.

Kuna Halcorr, one of the other 'lieutenants' of the main cell, scoffed, "And you think these two can do it on their own?"

"Of course not, but them, along with a few others, should be able to easily," Lonlen answered smoothly. "Unless you think you can handle it yourself?"

"Just bomb 'em," the red-headed man shrugged. "Shouldn't be that hard."

"Ah, and you know of one that will kill the general, but not the aids who are helping us, and will leave enough to identify him by?" Dilvax questioned, smiling sharply. "I didn't know we had something like that."

The lieutenant's brow furrows, "But, like, some casualties-"

"Will make it much harder for us to recruit more high-ranking members of the military," the leader chided. "Think, Halcorr."

The other man shrugged, "Then we bomb his house."

"What house? The man keeps his family in the capital, and lives on-base, only leaving with an escort of elites," Dilvax revealed. "This isn't taking out some corrupt mayor, we're dealing with the big-leagues, how about you act like it? Now," he stated, his tone instantly shifting from displeased to encouraging as he faced Hisku and Jorel. "Knowing that, do you think you can do it, you two?"

The Jedi's partner had been looking over the datapad they'd been given, and, when he looked to her, the woman far more knowledgeable about the military than he was, she frowned, asking in turn, "Do we have uniforms?"

"We do," Blon Randuel, Lonlen's right hand man stated. "But it won't be that easy. Only cleared personnel are allowed into the command center."

Glancing to Hisku, Jorel knew that a Mind Trick would get them in anyways, but if they were sure it couldn't be done, that'd make them suspicious. She had something else in mind, though, from how she shook her head. "We don't need to get in the command center, we need to be here," she said, stepping forward, and tapping the building next to it on the map, labelled 'Comms'.

"Sniping's out," Randuel informed her. "The windows of the command center are transparisteel, like a ship's."

"All of them?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Or just the ones on the top floor, with the Telane's living quarters, his office, and the command room?"

"Blueprints say all of them are," the other man said, but nodded. "But if the Congs didn't lie, we wouldn't be here. Backup plan?"

Jorel squinted, looking over his attaché's shoulder. "There's a roof hatch. Blow it and drop in."

"You'll still be fighting your way through the command center," Dilvax noted. "You two can do that?"

"Yes," Hisku replied. "With a small team. It's built to hold out, so we can hold out. Assuming help does come," she added, looking at the cell's leader levelly.

"Who do you think-"Halcorr started to snarl, but stopped when his superior shot him a warning look.

Lonlen slowly nodded. "Unless you find another hidden bioweapons lab, you won't have to worry about that," the blond man smiled. "How many do you need?"

The chiss woman considered that, looking to Jorel, hesitating, then asking, "How many do you think you could manage?" A statement Jorel translated to 'how many can you hide with the Force?'

"If we had to not be seen, maybe two others, tops," he replied, "But if it's just being overlooked. . . I could handle five, not including us." His Veil could work as a low-level mind-trick, but the more out of place someone was, the harder it was to maintain. With uniforms and a good excuse, he could push it much further.

"Then you should take a slicer," Slevath Ceavin, the Trade Federation Financier smiled, "since you'll be in the communication node. Get a look at the things they don't want us to see."

Hisku frowned, but before she could tell the vile man off Dilvax smiled a little wider, clapping, announcing, "That's a wonderful idea! And having someone there could let us know how they were reacting to us before they try and counter-attack! I assume you have someone in mind?"

"I do," the other man nodded. "But who else should go?"

Syko, standing beside us, volunteered herself with an, "I can!"

Even Jorel had trouble hiding his distaste at the thought, likely having to work twice as hard to cover for whatever the coward did if things started to look bad. Lonlen read his expression, as well as Hisku's, the woman's shoulders tightening, hand closing into tight fists, and the man shook his head, telling the other woman, "Love the enthusiasm, Alyla, but I need you helping to secure the hovertrain station. We've got someone in place who will knock out their communications, but if a train leaves, we might have to deal with a counterattack before we're ready."

"I," the woman said, glancing at the pair, "Yeah, okay."

"And their mission will be very dangerous," the rebel leader stated solemnly. "It's brave of them to take it on, and shows their commitment to our cause. There's a good chance they might not make it back."

"I, oh!" Syko stated, looking at the two of them. "I, uh, yeah, I'll make sure the station's secure."

Nodding solemnly, Lonlen told her, "Good. I'll be trusting you," before turning back to face the pair, Randuel rolling his eyes at the way the Leader was managing Syko, and how Syko hadn't noticed. The cell leader asked Hisku, "But you believe you can do this, just you seven?"

"Yeah. Uh, don't take this the wrong way," the Padawan said, glancing towards the others, "But there's a galaxy's worth of difference between people who started learning to fight because they needed to, and someone who's been trained to do it for most of the life."

"What, you sayin' you're Mandalorian?" Halcorr asked.

Pulling just a touch of the Force up, the Jedi smiled, leaning fully into the 'we're rogue commandos' story the rebellion had assigned them. "Nah, nothing that bad, but Trust me when I say that I'm better in a fight than you are."

While the look the other man sent him was hostile, there was a bit of unease in it that hadn't been there before, a fear, and Jorel had to repress his smile.

"'I'm better in a fight than you are'?" Hisku echoed, skeptical, once they were back in their quarters, and the Jedi had to wince.

In the moment it'd felt right, but, at his partner's concerned look, as the conversation had shifted to other aspects of the planning, Jorel had taken the opportunity to center himself, half-meditating. And what he'd found was. . . not good.

"Remember our conversations about the Dark?" he asked, waiting for his attaché's nod. "Well, you aren't the only one that's still recovering. Thanks for not punching her in the middle of the meeting."

"It's the least she deserves," the normally collected woman growled. "To still have her in a command position after what she did!"

Lifting a calming hand, Jorel nodded. "Yeah, but this isn't our old unit," he stressed. His techniques should keep listening devices from understanding what they were saying, but there was no reason to take stupid risks. "And, before what happened, would you have been a couple seconds away from hitting the idiot."

". . . no," the Chiss admitted. "This is. . . not good, Jorel."

"But we'll get better," he stressed. "Trust me, I've done this the hard way. But, yeah, when some idiot thought I was weak, that he could take me, and that I was lying about what I could do just to look tough? My instinct was to put him in his place, and the Dark took that, and strengthened it, and I wasn't ready for it," he admitted. "That's another problem with the Dark, it pretends to be gone, to get you to drop your guard, and then it. . . not really strikes, but starts to work on you."

Shaking his head, running a hand through his short hair, though it'd started to get longer in their time on Pengalan, he sighed. "But, you really think we can do this?" At her unamused look, he added, "Without going, uh, all the way?" wiggling his fingers for emphasis.

"If they were a proper military, no," the soldier stated. "While you were out, wasting time talking to the others-"

"You mean being friendly and social, as I made contacts and gathered intel?" the Jedi teased. "Covering for you while you 'recovered'?"

Frowning, the woman still gave a grudging nod. "Yes. I. . . fine, while you were 'gathering intel' on the Resistance, I was looking into the forces we'd end up fighting while we are here. And I'm not impressed. The General could subjugate this planet in a week."

"Well, good thing that's not how he works," Jorel smiled. "But they're that bad?"

Bringing up an image of General Telane, Hisku'biatha'pusi pronounced, "Their leadership is hereditary," spitting the last word out like it was a curse. "He is the General of the Southern Quadrant because his father was, and so on.

"Wait, I thought this was a democratically elected republic?" the Jedi frowned, that form of government the galactic standard, patterning itself off the Republic as a whole. "Well, it's corrupt, at least according to the Resistance, but they talk about it like it's a new thing. New-ish," he amended, as a decade wasn't really 'new', but it was compared to the history of the Pengalan government.

"The military controls itself," his partner stated. "They answer to the civilian government, and take general orders from them, but how they do things is up to them."

Grabbing an extra datapad, the Padawan started doing research himself. He was no slicer himself, but years poking around the Temple Archives let him navigate databases pretty easily, which meant- "Got it. Several hundred years ago, the Pengalan government micro-managed the military. It led to. . . ooh, some bad blood, and every mistake that was made had the responsibility passed up the chain to the politicians, who, yeah, were voted out. And the next group. And the group after that," he stated, flitting from file to file, using the dates in office to track the progression. "Then, four groups later, they distanced themselves and. . . the problems stopped."

Before, Jorel would've missed it, but having read through the files of pirate groups, he recognized the pattern. "They were messing things up on purpose because they were mad at being controlled by politicians."

"And now they've gone too far in the other direction," Hisku noted, bringing up a news article. "His personal forces might be good, but he sends them to handle things he needs done."

"Which means they won't be protecting him when we attack," Jorel realized. "Okay, I can see how we could do this. Any idea who you want to bring?"

"Loran, from last time," the blue-skinned woman declared.

Considering it, the Jedi slowly nodded. "Okay, I can see that. He also knows of my. . . training, and he owes us his life. Anyone else?"

Hisku brought up the resistance's records, looking over them for a long moment, before she closed her eyes and sighed. "Perhaps, perhaps you would have a better idea, Jorel. You have. . . 'gathered intel' on them, after all."

"You mean I 'wasted my time talking to'-" he teased, catching the pillow his partner threw at his head, and laughed, tossing it back onto her bed. "Yeah, I got some idea of who we might bring. So, first of all there's Irvgar. Small guy, but he uses a big gun, and trains with it a lot."

"A lot?" Hisku echoed, skeptical.

"A lot for these guys," Jorel clarified.

Considering that, his partner slowly nodded. "That's likely the best we're going to get. Alright, who else?"

Several days later, it was finally time, and Jorrel was in the back of a hovertruck, along with the rest of his team. Hisku was across from him, still, waiting and ready, her only movement the occasional frown as she meditated, her Presence still slowly clearing.

Next down the line were Hela Orden, their demolitions specialist, and Loran, the Duros. The young woman was antsy, drumming her fingers on her knees, while the alien was nervous but controlled. Hela had been surprised, but eager when Jorel had approached her, while the Jedi had helped heal the green-skinned man the last bit he needed to participate in this mission.

Past that was Stuale Typhe, Slevath's hand-picked slicer, and Doma Drangon, the middle-aged woman seeming to doze. At the far end was Irvgar Meahal, who was staring at the case of 'supplies' that his weapon was stored in, along with most of their gear. They were allowed pistols and vibroknives, and were wearing 'army engineer' uniforms, but their weapons, their armor, and all the rest were in crates labelled 'parts' that they'd carry up to the receiver dish on top of the comms building, which had been sabotaged an hour ago, necessitating their 'repair' crew to come in, the real team never notified, the person in charge of doing so another Resistance turncoat.

It was an eye-opening display of just how much influence the Resistance actually possessed. Waleye, the leader of the Resistance on the previous continent the pair had been on had never used civilian collaborators, but he'd never really needed to. Now, though, they didn't have to fight their way in, they didn't need to sneak in unseen, they were driven straight in, through the checkpoints, only the occasional person even checking the back of the truck, where they just glanced at the team, dressed as military repairment, and walked away.

"Almost there," their driver warned. The woman would drop them off and leave, so that, when things went wrong, no one put two and two together and decided to shoot her for delivering the commandos right to their doorstep.

"Got it," Jorel nodded, looking around. "Remember, 'we're just here to repair the comm systems. Those crates are full of every part we might need, and we're nervous because this needs to have been done yesterday."

Hela lifted an eyebrow, "But, didn't the order come in an hour ago, boss?"

"I'm being metaphorical," the Jedi replied, pausing for a moment as she grinned, and he realized she was just 'getting in character', which. . . sure.

Their transport slowed to a stop, and the Padawan motioned for everyone to get out, Irvgar making sure to grab the case holding his heavy blaster rifle, the man having had to be convinced to leave his blaster cannon at home, since, if they had to take down enemy vehicles, they'd be better off just running.

Filing out, they turned on and slid back the small gravesled containing the rest of their gear, as the four guards at the front door looked at them warily.

Why four, there were only supposed to be two? Jorel thought, the Force stirring with a vague sense of warning, but no more to be expected for what they were planning on doing. Maybe we showed up at a shift change?

Once everyone was out, Jorel slapped the back of the hovertruck, which slowly drove away, as the lead guard looked them over, asking, "You the repair crew?"

"Yep," the Jedi smiled, looking up at the dish barely visible above them. "Did your diagnostics figure out what the issue was yet?"

"I'm gonna need to see your orders," the other man replied instead of answering, so Jorel waved Stuale over, the slicer having been the one to spoof the necessary forms. The man showed the guard the data-pad, but the soldier frowned. "This says there's four of you. Not seven."

Feeling out in the Force, the guard was obviously suspicious, and the worry from his team was clear, while Stuale was merely waiting, which seemed. . . odd. Hisku, meanwhile, had gone still in the Force, her Presence slowly reaching out, preparing her shots.

Thankfully, Jorel had a great deal of experience coming up with lies on the spot, and, unlike the Temple Masters, these guards couldn't read his Presence in the force! "Yeah, four of us know how to fix this, but we were told you needed this done as fast as possible, so we grabbed some extra people to carry stuff and help." Waving towards Stuale, the Padawan scoffed, "I wouldn't trust this guy to know his rear-end from a reactant agitator injector, but if I tell him 'hold this here' or 'hand me that' he'll do fine."

Beside him, the older slicer scowled, but he'd fucked this up, he could be the butt of Jorel's lie.

"If it's that easy, we could do it," the Guard noted, eying up the grav sled.

Taking a half step closer, Jorel sighed, and pulled on the Force. The Guard's Presence was easy to grasp with the Jedi's own, the Mind Trick snapping into place after a moment of difficulty. "Listen, I'm being a bit of an ass because that guy's the boss' cousin, and deserves it, but the other three are trainees, and I need at least two of them to make sure he doesn't screw something up. I tell 'em that this is a 'learning opportunity' and that he'll mess something up on purpose, and it's their job to catch it. They're pretty good, but, again, they're green as baby Duros. Well, one of them is a Duros, but that's not his fault. So, really, it makes sense to have them help," the Force user stated, spiking the Mind Trick's power hard.

"It makes sense to have them help," the guard agreed, frowning, trying to fight against his technique, but, while Jorel had nothing on General Er'izma, he'd learned quite a bit. "But orders are-"

"You know how orders really are," Jorel interrupted, once more starting slow, and ramping it back up. "They say to do it someway, but then they tell you to do it someway that makes no sense with the orders you got. They gave us every possible part we might need, and when I pointed out how long it'd take to move everything, they gave us a grav sled and extra people, and if we don't use it all, then someone's gonna blab, so we need it all. It's a hassle, but it should be fine."

"It's a hassle, but it should be fine," the guard nodded, resistance slowly crumbling, but it was almost like what Jorel was saying wasn't helping at all, the teen having to go for one last shove of brute strength instead.

"So we should go inside and fix the array?" the Padawan prompted.

"Go inside and fix the array," the guard ordered, stepping back and waving them through.

Finally, Jorel thought, shrugging off the slight feeling of strain, enjoying the surprise on the faces of his team. Well, except for Hisku, who may have been able to feel what he was doing, and Loran, who looked almost worshipful.

"You heard him," the Jedi ordered, waving his people in. Looking back to the guard, he asked, "Can you have someone show us the way to the roof?" as he waved up the seven-story building.

"Yeah, sure," the man said, pointing to one of the others and gesturing upwards.

The rest of Jorel's team moved after the indicated guard, who lead them in, through the entrance and up the stairs. He was glad he'd asked for help, as it wasn't a straight shot to the top, only up two levels, then across a large room, attracting stares from the people working there, most of them unarmed, but all of them worried.

That made sense, as long as the dish was broken, they couldn't do anything, but there was something more to it, and some of them seemed. . . happy? Not happy in a relieved way, but in a way that was shot through with Dark, that almost seemed. . . expectant?

And, through it all, that vague sense of unease, of Danger, slowly grew, but not in any way that he could work with. It wasn't the sharp warning of an attack but something vaguer, like the flashing light of a possible problem before it became a real issue. Catching Hisku's eye, Jorel subtly motioned to his weapons, casually wresting one hand on the handle of his blaster pistol, the other slipping in the pocket that held his small vibroblade, and the woman, who was already grasping her obvious weapon, mirrored his actions, sliding her other hand inside the toolbelt she wore.

Maybe it's nothing, is what the Jedi wanted to believe, but the Force disagreed, and, reaching deep, to try and see if it was more trickery from the Dark, found it wasn't. What's more, with his attention on it, those corrupted veins of Force energy, clinging to him like ivy, urged him to Kill! Destroy! Escape!

That feeling, so odd, lacking in any seeming subtly, put a slight hitch in his step, their guide glancing back and asking, "Something wrong?"

"No, I just remembered something we left in the truck, but it's gone already," Jorel lied smoothly, Hisku now even more on edge, even the rest of his team noticing something was up.

Their guide hesitated, clearly worried, but tried to play it off cool, further worrying the Padawan, leading them up several more stairs, towards a room in the middle of the seventh floor. "In here, and through the hatch on the ceiling," the man said, stopping, but not entering, the indicated room, the intermediary room completely empty, and, by the steam rising above a nearby cup of caf, recently so.

Looking inside, the room was dark, with storage shelves inside that, unlike the desks in the previous room, seemed haphazardly placed, and Jorel understood.

Striding forward quickly, it was clear that he should not enter that room, so, smiling, the Jedi approached the guard with purpose, who broke out in a cold sweat. "I-"

"You know what, we do need some help," Jorel stated, grabbing the shoulder of the larger man with Force-enhanced muscles. "So you go first."

"W-wait! Don't sho-!" the man tried to say, as the Padawan shoved him in the room, with enough force that by the time the man slowed, starting to turn, he was dead center.

Emphasis on the dead.

A hail of blasterfire came through one shelf, revealing a turret, firing in a wide spread that would've hit the entire team, had they all entered normally. Hisku snapped off a shot at the spot where the gun met the stand, aim amazing, as usual, and the back door to the room opened up, revealing a squadron of soldiers in heavy armor that started to storm in, likely to finish them off, pausing as they saw Jorel's team still in the far hallway.

However, while they hesitated, Jorel and Hisku hadn't. Charging forward, Jorel snapped off a few shots, his aim not nearly as good so only one found the weak point of one of his five foes, the woman dropping her blaster rifle as the inside of her elbow was scorched black. His attache, meanwhile, took out two others with shots to the neck of one, and the inner thigh of another, startling the three still standing even more, and allowing the Padawan to finish closing.

A flare of Danger let Jorel dodge the wild shots of one as he moved up to them, vibro-knife coming out and flashing across the shooter's neck, killing him, and urging him to twist as the last unharmed fighter brought her weapon to bare, but the Jedi knocked it aside, another throat slash dropping him, a single step bringing him to the woman who was backing up, eyes wide, holding her ruined arm, and a moment later she was dead too.

Flicking the fluids off his vibrating blade, he flicked it off, grimacing as he found himself sprayed with their blood, even as some Dark part of him wanted to revel in it which was just. . . dumb. It was only blood, after all. He had a gallon and a half of it already in him, he didn't need any more.

A flash of warning came to him from both the Force and the Dark, another door opening, and Jorel tossed his blade high, intercepting a thrown grenade and tossing it back from where it came, hitting a second as it started to be thrown, a small twist of telekinesis the Dark assisted returning his blade to him, a stronger flick closing the door as the lead soldier desperately tried to bat both explosives his way.

The door slammed shut, twin thunks sounding as the explosives bounced off the now closed metal door, three muted thumps sounding, blasting the door off its hinges slightly, as Jorel could feel the deaths he'd caused, but he cleared his mind, doing his best to find no satisfaction from it, and mostly succeeding.

As an alarm started to sound, Jorel turned to his team, who were all staring at him, with the exception of Hisku, who was merely alert, and Stuale Typhe, the slicer no where to be seen.

This was a set up, and I think I found who set us up, the Padawan noted with quiet anger. But that was an issue for after they'd gotten back to base.

Instead the Jedi merely looked expectant, channeling his Master as he dryly commented, "Well, come on. We've got a job to do, after all."

AN: Sorry for the delay. My best friend is in the hospital because of an injury due to his poor health, and has been sedated for the past several weeks. He's improving, if slowly, and that's made it a little harder to get into the headspace required to write.