"I wonder why nobody else ever does this."
Having had an apprentice foisted upon me by me in an attempt to get out of an arranged marriage to a complete stranger who was at least half a decade younger than I was comfortable dealing with was, as it turned out, the best damn thing I had ever had happen to me.
I mean honestly, where else would I find a child who would advocate for sending an airstrike against her own homeworld? Granted, it was a portion of her home world that was heavily contested, but still.
And would you look at that: I had access to (someone who owned) a small warship with turbolasers, proton torpedoes, and every incentive to resolve our current crisis as expediently as possible.
"Master, may I ask you a question?" my new apprentice asked. Razma was… well, she was a teenager. Short, still possessed of that gangly awkwardness that would take a few years to fade, and with a surprisingly quick tongue and bitter wit to make me wonder who had hurt her. Typical teenager things, really.
"First, feel free to use my name when we're amongst friends," I told her. Our whole little coalition had crammed itself into the broad hammerhead prow of the Jedi Knight's Defender-class corvette as we hurtled through the atmosphere of Alderaan at speeds that would likely see trees stripped of leaves and livestock of hide. Meanwhile, I was comfortably seated at a communication console enjoying a light snack of painkillers and imminent success. "Second, go for it."
"What is it that I am hearing?" she asked. "It sounds like you, but I don't recognize the words. I've been hearing it since Lady Thul summoned you."
Around me, I could hear most of the rest of my party stiffen in their seats. Well, I could hardly blame them; They all wanted to know what it was that I was broadcasting all day every day, and why it was that I was broadcasting it.
"That is the ancestral language of my people," I said evenly. Nobody needed to know the name. It would have meant nothing to them. All it would do was remind me that the world I had called home was gone. Forever, in all likelihood. It still hurt to think about it.
Best not to.
"And why am I hearing it?"
"The wonders of an open mind. Unfortunately, I never quite figured out how or why it happens," I admitted. Off in the corner, I could see Levin develop a slight twitch in response to the news. Poor guy. Once this was all done, I'd buy him a drink. Or twelve. From across the bar. With somebody else's credit card. "Levin, does it make it easier or harder to enter my mind?"
"I'm not about to try."
"So, yes, it has its advantages," I said.
"ETA: two minutes," the Jedi Knight called out from the pilot's seat.
"Teaching it might be difficult," I added. Mostly because my mental broadcast was entirely unconscious. "We can try to figure it out once you have a grasp of the basics."
"Please don't," Levin groaned.
"Nestor, do you have a plan for this little trip?" asked the Little Jedi. She had taken a seat away from any of the important consoles, apparently content with being a passenger. "Beyond 'drop bombs and hope we catch Nefarid with them?'"
"No," I admitted. "But when has that ever stopped me?"
"Excuse me, what?" my apprentice asked, shock clear in her voice.
"Your master has developed blindly charging into danger to an art form," the Little Jedi informed her.
"Which is to say it's unplanned, chaotic, and infuriatingly successful," Natia added.
"My master is suicidal," Razma commented to nobody in particular. "Lovely."
"You get used to it," Bybon added. The Little Jedi sent a glance in his direction, and another in mine. For a moment, I thought I saw concern in those features, but that was absurd. She just didn't want me to die. My reckless streak was something else entirely.
"I don't think I will."
"It's easier than you think," the Jedi Knight said, finally choosing to join the conversation. A quick glance out the viewport revealed why: we were no longer moving. All around us was a broad valley, mostly empty save for a glint of silver in the distance. Some sort of metal structure. And, since it was the only one of its kind, most likely Lord Nefarid's hideout.
Some button in the cockpit clicked, and a blue figure in miniature appeared above the dashboard, hovering off in the corner of the forward viewport. Not Lord Nefarid, calling to repent his sins and offer to fall on his lightsaber, unfortunately. This was an aging Jedi with short-cropped hair and close-fitting robes.
"Please tell me that is you hovering above the Glarus Valley," he spoke without preamble.
"It is," the Knight confirmed. "I take it you're nearby?"
"About three hundred meters in front and three hundred to your right," he admitted. Oh, this had to be Orgus Din. That made three highly trained Jedi on this mission. Maybe the bombardment I was planning was a bit overkill?
No, probably not.
"Can you hold that position? I'd rather not catch you in the blast radius."
"Please tell me you are not about to bombard a neutral world."
"From what I understand, this entire valley is a bit of a grey area," I chimed in. "I imagine we can find some reason or another to justify striking a military target. Like the one we've announced to the entire galaxy."
"Who is… ah, Lord Nestor." The hologram turned to face me. "I didn't think someone like you would be in favor of this kind of thing."
"In the name of galactic peace, I am willing to be quite flexible, Master Orgus" I said. I must have gotten it right since no correction was forthcoming.
"Clearly," he allowed. "If you think you can handle the backlash, go for it. Just be ready to land quickly; If Lord Nefarid escapes, we won't get another opportunity like this."
With that, the link went dead.
No pressure, then.
"... he expects backlash?" the Jedi Knight asked.
"Given how the house fleets have been sitting on their hands all war?" I asked, the coin finally dropping. "There is a logic to it. It also explains how the Killiks have been able to do so well despite not having any combat vehicles or aircraft."
"Killiks?" Bybon asked.
"Humanoid insects infesting Alderaan," my apprentice revealed. "It's part of the duties of the noble houses to hunt them down whenever they come to the surface. Unfortunately, House Organa has been negligent. And now the Killiks are everywhere."
"Maybe we should land and do this the normal way?" the Jedi Knight asked.
It was then that something else in the cockpit clicked. Out of the viewport, I saw a trail of smoke streak away into the distance before the silvery building was consumed by a vibrant ball of red flame. Less than a second later, the blastwave reached us, buffeting the ship and rattling me in my seat.
"I guess that answers that," I muttered once everything had stabilized again.
"Did you do that?" the Jedi Knight asked.
"What?"
"Did you use the Force to fire that torpedo?"
"I don't know what half of these buttons do," I pointed out. All around me, the senior Sith apprentices had let their hands drop to their weapons. Pure foolishness. That was the opposite of de-escalation. Which one of them had done it? Which one had done what the Knight accused me of? "How am I supposed to know which one controls the secondary weapons?"
"Maybe we can focus on hunting down the rogue Sith Lord first?" Loa offered. She had not said much for the entire flight, seated far to the side of the bridge, surrounded by all the other apprentices. Was she still nervous about drawing attention to herself? The debacle on Nar Shaddaa had… probably not been her fault.
"Fine," said the Jedi, re-engaging the ship's drive to take us closer to the pillar of smoke in the distance that had once been a Sith's base of operations. "Fine. We'll handle Nefarid first. But we will be talking about this later."
"Naturally," I said, already running through the possibilities. "I'll take care of the fallout. I should be able to come up with a reasonable excuse."
"See that you do," he muttered, hopefully mollified, as the ruined military outpost grew larger and larger in the forward viewport. Before long, I could make out the twisted skeletons of weapon emplacements and cratered trenches. The building itself was little more than a pile of rubble, but meant little. Who knew how deep Lord Nefarid had been burrowed?
"I don't think we're getting past that rubble," Razma commented. All around her, the more experienced Sith Apprentices chuckled at her naivete. The Knight was busy landing the ship on the mostly flat plain in front of the ruin.
"Size doesn't matter when you're dealing with the Force," the Little Jedi remarked.
...
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