Chapter 297
The holographic conference in Jabba's opulent throne room crackled with tension. Palpatine maintained his composure outwardly — centuries of practice made that easy — but deep down he was genuinely shocked. The epithet fit perfectly.
*Who would have thought… And you can't chalk this up to luck. One time — no problem. Two… maybe. But a whole series of coincidences haunting one person… And are they even random?*
The Jedi Council members showed similar surprise, their usual serene masks cracking. Only Yoda seemed truly indifferent, ears twitching faintly as he processed the report. Palpatine allowed himself a private chuckle. The old Grand Master, like himself, preferred to sit back and calmly consider how to turn every unexpected development to their advantage. There was plenty to consider here: why this had happened, how no one had foreseen it, and most importantly — how to exploit it.
*Such an incident… It resembles a situation in Möbius chess,* Palpatine mused. *When an insignificant pawn suddenly crosses all the lines and freezes in the center, disrupting the carefully considered strategy of all opponents. Perhaps its next move will be its last — but for that brief moment, the pawn becomes master of the situation, forcing everyone else to reckon with it.*
He smiled inwardly.
*Now, all of this is far from philosophical, but purely practical. How, what, and why. The past is the foundation of the present, which supports the future. Any game is built on similar basic principles. There are pieces, and there are players who move them. Their tactics and strategies are nothing more than an open book for those who know where to look. Not all players understand this, however, and imagine themselves invincible. Naive fools! No matter how brilliant a player, there is always a way to defeat them or neutralize their strategy. However, sometimes players disregard the pawns — and in vain. Such an approach is, at the very least, foolish and wasteful.*
"Well…" Palpatine said smoothly, voice carrying just the right mix of concern and approval, "So far, everything's going according to plan. However, it will be quite amusing to watch how things unfold: will the pawn be able to continue the game?"
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"No, how can that be, huh? What the hell?!"
While I continued to mentally rage and curse everyone — the Jedi, the Chancellor, and Jabba himself for good measure — events took their course in the throne room.
"Hmm," Yoda twitched his ear thoughtfully. "If such is your wish, Knight Marek will negotiate with you."
Jabba nodded complacently, his massive tail shifting on the dais.
"Knight Dagon," Windu, who had regained his composure, joined in. "The Council wishes to hear your full report and give you the appropriate instructions."
I tried not to let my disappointment show. *Oh, and here I was, naive, hoping they'd get me off this whole thing… I really don't want to get dragged into such a mess. And the responsibility… it's truly of galactic significance. Dagon you're in deep trouble.*
"As soon as I return to the ship, I will contact you immediately," I replied decisively.
Windu nodded silently, and the holograms faded one by one.
Turning to Jabba, I switched to Huttese. "When would you like to meet for negotiations?"
Jabba called his majordomo, Fortuna, and spoke quietly to him. The Twi'lek bowed and hurried from the room.
"We'll hold negotiations… tomorrow," Jabba rumbled in Huttese. "This very evening, you're invited to the celebration. My son has returned home thanks to you, and that means you're my guests."
"It's a great honor for us," I bowed slightly. *Yeah… I'd try to refuse if I thought it would work.*
"Then please forgive me — I need to sort out some business."
The Hutt waved a dismissive hand, indicating we could leave.
"Let's go, Zule. Puck, Lucky."
We headed toward the exit of the palace's grand throne room.
"Teacher?" Zule walked close beside me, her voice soft.
"What?"
"Uh… so I take it we're not going home?" the Falleen asked.
"Not yet… no. I will… negotiate with Jabba."
"Ooh," she drawled, clearly unenthused. "It's so boring… Teacher, can I stay on the ship?"
"That's true," I sighed sadly. "By the way, we're invited to a party this evening. And now you can't get out of it."
"Well, this is certainly more fun than all this 'conversation,'" Zule shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
Zule leaned against me as we walked. Her former robotic arm was now mine — the left one, still regenerating slowly after the fight with Saa Qalu. Most of my wounds had healed thanks to the marathon bacta session, but the scars remained: ugly burns and puncture marks across my chest and the right side of my face. I had told her it was another Gen'Dai, similar to Durge whom I killed on Jabiim. She didn't believe me, but she could sense it was a secret I would share with her when the time was right.
Ahsoka and the others were on another mission, but even from afar they could feel the distrust and worry rippling through the bond. This was the second time I had basically actually died. The others — on random missions after the Ghost-Vitiate encounter — had only been heavily wounded. On Ohma-D'un I had been wounded. On Ruusan at the thought bomb I had been heavily wounded. But here, after the fight with the Vong Hunter, I had actually died. My heart had stopped. Zule had restarted it.
The weight of that truth hung between us, unspoken but heavy.
We stepped out into the harsh Tatooine sunlight. The gunship waited on the landing pad, engines already warming. Zule stayed close, her presence warm and steady through the bond, even as my mind raced with the political minefield waiting tomorrow.
One more night of celebration.
One more negotiation with a crime lord.
Then, perhaps, I could finally start untangling the web that was slowly closing around me.