HK killed the overhead lights the moment we sealed the hatch, plunging the Silverlight's cockpit into darkness, not to mask anything... he just liked the drama, it turns out. I was a bit apprehensive about connecting the Silverlight through the backdoor, but HK assured us he would monitor it and ensure everything was going smoothly.
[Status: Link isolated. Encryption online. Observation: They won't be able to get access to our systems.] HK's eyes glowed a little brighter, [Reassuring Comment: You can contact them now.]
"I do hope you are right about that!" Vila sighed as she slid into the co‑pilot's chair and kicked her boots up again, "Let's get this over with," she muttered, glancing at me while I keyed the communicator. It was not a complete, holographic view, just a simple video and audio feed, which should be enough.
"Do you copy?" I took a breath when the connection linked up, "This is Jedi Kael Varo."
After a brief static and image clearing, an armored silhouette materialized on the console before me. He kept his end low-power, too, probably worrying about us pushing into their system too... Still, in the fuzzy image, besides its featurelessness, there it was... the unmistakable T‑visor of a Mandalorian helmet. When he spoke, he didn't bother with rank or name; he simply got straight to the point.
"Jedi," he said, and I couldn't really feel any emotion from him, either because he was trained or because we were too far apart... but the latter made less sense. I could feel the pirates when entering the system, so he... he was just trained against Jedi... but not against me. "You have our attention. Speak."
"Appreciated," I replied, trying to remain just as neutral as possible, searching for him in the background, "We're here to stop this before it becomes a massacre."
"No, you are here to meddle," he said, and although he interrupted me, his tone remained flat and calm. But this time around, I managed to catch him. I just needed a bit of time to start reading his actual emotions and grasp his mind, "In something you do not understand."
"Possibly," I admitted, shaking my head, trying to buy more time, "But we were invited to mediate." I left out the part where Christophsis had just used us as a human shield, sending a request for help but ignoring us until now. I still wanted this to end without more bodies drifting over a crystal planet, if possible. Even if their initial plan was... atrocious. I don't know who came up with it, but it was doomed to fail from the start. "It is unusual to find Mandalorian warbirds this far from Manda'yaim."
"Unusual," he agreed, and by calling Mandalore its old name, the one they used in their own tongue, it was enough to spur a bit of surprise in him. With that, I managed to isolate and get a hold on him, no longer feeling there was only a vacuum of emotions when we talked. "But it is not impossible." He continued as his visor tipped a fraction, like he was nodding at me, "Our creed is simple: When blood is taken from us, we take more back. Then... distance becomes... irrelevant."
"So that's it," Vila muttered under her breath, "Eye for an eye? Question is... who started it... actually..."
"You can already guess that, Jedi," The visor turned, speaking not to me but to Vila, even if he didn't see her from the feed. "Sur'haar sur'haar. Blood for blood," he repeated, "Dishonor unanswered is rot, festering in a wound. We are not rotting... Not anymore."
"Well..." I muttered, as I could feel he wasn't lying... Whatever he was saying, he believed it, and he was so convinced that it surprised me. By now, I was so locked on to his feelings, I no longer heard any background noise, only him. "I already said, I am here to listen to all sides. Please, do tell us then yours."
There was a long, silent moment, with only the ventilation fan's hum, and I could sense that he was considering whether to trust me or not... but in the end, he made a decision: he could trust my status as a Jedi.
"Months," he began, "We have burned the rats' dens from the Rim to the arc of our own trade spines. The war littered our space and our neighbors with trash... Slavers, privateers, crews with more teeth than brains. They wreaked havoc around our space, abandoned by all sides, festering. So, when our new Mandalore stepped forward, we decided to end the chaos. Most of those who thought otherwise... died. Some, welcoming order, greeted us with open arms, so they were taken in." There was a beat while he spoke... he was proud... he was very proud of what the Mandalorians had become.
"I heard that Mandalorian space had become surprisingly... safe to travel." I tried going after his pride, feeding it a little to make him open up more.
"Naturally." He answered at once, "But, as we expand, others look at us as... competitors. Which is something that we meet in the open. However, some refuse to do the same and employ underhanded, cowardly methods to push their will onto others."
There was a significant amount of disdain coming from him. As for me... I was getting a headache, because suddenly I had the feeling that Christopsis made a massive blunder just because of some nobles' idiotic profit margin...
"Let me guess," I spoke, following the natural feeling I was suddenly getting, "They hired pirates to harass you?"
"Multiple, in fact." The Mandalorian nodded, without denying it, "At first it was nothing to pay attention to, but suddenly their numbers were becoming... unnatural. It was no longer just an accident, so... we began searching."
"And the chain you followed led here," I said, sighing.
"To a wealthy purse on Christophsis," he declared, and I could feel he was smiling. "A noble's... Credits washed through empty companies, but their scent was the same: a coward's stench. Their interest was going through our systems, but since we cleaned up the place, rules have been established. Rules they no longer liked... Too used to the chaos. So, they hired ships to plunder Mandalorian lanes and take Mandalorian lives. Ori'vod bled... So... it is time to punish those whose hands hold the butcher's knife."
"Damn..." Vila's lekku twitched, raising her brows, blinking her eyes in rapid succession, "So you dragged a pack of captured pirates out here to die on your signal as penance..."
"They were given a choice," he stated, untroubled, "Atone in service, or be judged by us. They had their choice; they were offered a chance at mercy by our measure."
"I am not mad." Vila added, and she even smiled, "I am impressed... That's all."
[Statement: Agreed.] HK made a pleased little servo sound while speaking, [Cultural Note: Efficiency.]
"I see..." I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, "You've made your point, and I can tell you that Christophsis won't sleep easily after today. They weren't doing that even before today... But if you keep pressing, civilians pay the price for their nobles' sins. That isn't justice, that's bad arithmetic. I can't allow that."
"The child reaps the harvest of the field he lives on," the commander answered, but even though he did... I could tell that he was now testing my resolve. So, there was a chance to make this stop if I could balance it well. "Do not speak to us of arithmetic, Jedi. We count the dead by names, and we have them all memorized."
"Then let us trade names," I shot back, not letting him walk over me, "You say you found the purse. Give me what you have. We'll bring those responsible out and put them before a court that won't let them disappear, nor would they be able to brush their responsibility to others."
"..." Vila's gaze flicked to me, raising an eyebrow, but she wasn't going to interrupt me.
"We can deal with this, but with due process, with proof and within civilized limits." I continued pressing.
"..." The visor didn't move this time around, and it took a little more time for him to speak again, "Jedi, I have fought in the war, both against the Vong and against the fallen Alliance... I watched its courts misplace murderers and tyrants many times. Here, in the Outer Rim, your Jedi Council is far... and the laws of the reformed Republic are even farther. Systems, belonging to themselves, work for themselves. We can't trust their process."
"Maybe not," I conceded that point, "But right now, we can promise we can make it work. Christopsis had already learned its lesson, I can guarantee you that. Let us work things out... without further bloodshed, or this war would not end at all..."
"..." Once again... silence, but then, a flash of agreement, "An hour."
"An hour?" Vila asked, a little incredulous, wanting to argue, but I raised a hand.
"An hour it is."
"I am transmitting all the evidence we gathered," he continued, "But be aware, Jedi. We want the one responsible for the plan, along with all his cohorts. We will take them, and if that is not something you can promise... then don't even start."
With that, the transmission was cut, and we were left sitting there as HK downloaded the details being sent over to us and displayed them for me.
"Well...?" Vila asked after a bit of silence, "How does it look?" she muttered, already dizzy by the overwhelming number of pages.
"Their documents look real enough," I said, shrugging, "It seems it was really Christopsis that started this whole mess... but this is a lot of data to go through before the hour is over..."
[Operational Update: Enemy ships are withdrawing but holding position. Christophsis' command channel requesting an audience with their Jedi. Recommendation: Deny. Secondary recommendation: Raid their data like a thirsty bantha on a moisture farm. Tertiary recommendation: Bring snacks and watch the fireworks.]
"That's good... I want to talk to them too," I muttered, still trying to flip through all that we were given, but then HK's fingers tapped the console once, and the Silverlight's main display lit up with a cascade of lines as he took over me.
There were contracts, shipping records, and credit transfers, all flowing too fast for my eyes to catch at once.
[Lecture Mode: Activated. Commentary: Observe, meatbags, how the elegance of hypocrisy is laid bare by yours truly.]
"Skip the drama, HK," Vila grunted, arms crossed, but she leaned forward anyway, "So... what are we looking at? We can't read as fast as you..."
[Statement: Meatbag inefficiency.] He flicked his optics toward her before continuing, [Summary: The data chain originates from three shell companies. Each is supposedly defunct, each conveniently headquartered on worlds alongside the main trading lane, connecting the Southern Outer Rim with the Northern part. Credits were washed through these before being routed into pirate accounts.]
The screen shifted again, now showing names highlighted in red.
I caught them now. House Dhrune, one of Christophsis' ancient noble families. Then, there was another highlight belonging to Corthan Holdings, a mining concern with ties to crystal shipments. Soon, HK revealed the third connection: the Lumeer Trust, which was nothing but a front that dissolved on paper two months ago.
"Nice and clean," Vila muttered, narrowing her eyes, "but not clean enough. Following the money, it is clear they were funding local pirates and smugglers to get through Mandalorian space without having to pay the new fees."
[Correction: They aren't clean... But filthy... amateurish. Addendum: One of the pirate clans hired under these contracts was the Red Skulls, now deceased. Cross-reference confirms their strike routes overlapped Mandalorian supply lines. Logical Inference: Christophsis financed them, and they not only tried to avoid paying taxes, but they were taking out local competition while already being there, too.]
"They had routed money and smugglers through their own crystal exports," I said, tracing a line with my finger along one of the highlighted paths. "Export fees are only paid on Christophsis docks and nowhere else... That's their signature right there. They didn't even bother hiding it that deep."
"Or they thought no one would ever look this close, coming back to Christopsis itself," Vila offered, her lekku twitching with disgust. "They really thought they could do anything."
[Smug Statement: Or they believed pirates would not keep receipts. Predictable meatbag arrogance.] HK zoomed in on one final line of text, a signed authorization buried in the metadata. [Observation: This is the keystone that allowed the Mandalorians to get proof for a crusade. A personal approval from Lord Berrin Dhrune, head of House Dhrune. It was processed five standard months ago. Addendum: He moved the credits and he hired the Red Skulls.]
"So we hand him over, and Mandalore goes home happy?" Vila exhaled through her teeth.
"I don't know yet," I muttered, staring at the glowing text, "something feels off..."
[Practical Suggestion: Hand him to Mandalore. Immediate justice. Efficient.]
"No," I said sharply, surprising even myself with the force behind my words. "Something is not right..." I caught myself, shaking my head. "Let's go... the hour is ticking and I can't explain it, but... we need to see more."
"Sure." Vila's smirk was gone by then; she just looked at me, serious, "Then let's make sure he, or any others, can't wriggle out of it."
[Amused Observation: Meatbags and their morality debates. Very well. I will refrain from tossing him out the airlock.]
"House Dhrune," I repeated quietly, tucking the datapad under my arm, having the evidence with me, "Alright. Let's go meet our gracious hosts..."