Windu's Meditation Chamber, Dawn
The chamber sat high in one of the Temple's oldest spires, carved stone untouched by centuries of renovations. The air was cool, reverent, still. It was a place designed for silence.
Kaelen's presence bent it. He stood in the doorway like a blade unsheathed but not swung—quiet, but undeniable.
Windu knelt before the flickering meditation flame. He hadn't looked up when Kaelen entered, hadn't greeted him. Minutes stretched without weight.
When Windu finally spoke, his voice sounded like something decided after too long a debate.
Windu: "The Council has reached… a temporary consensus."
No names. No speeches. No illusion of permanence.
Kaelen's reply came low, dry.
Kaelen: "Where?"
Not curiosity. Readiness.
Windu rose, slow, deliberate, like a man carrying the ache of hours of politics. He placed a small holoprojector in Kaelen's hand.
Windu: "Calidrex. Outer Rim. Mining colony. Friction between Republic envoys and local guild clans. Resources. Territory. Fear."
Kaelen activated the device. Top-down render: a scarred capital city. Mining shafts through the northern ridge. Rusting industrial sprawl in the south. Tags blinked over weak power grids, outdated droid patrols, two flagged names.
No violence yet. But the tremor of it was obvious.
He closed the device, slid it into his belt. No questions.
He turned.
Windu: "Kaelen."
The younger man tilted his head. Acknowledgment. Not deference.
Windu: "You will be watched. Closely. Some on the Council believe you still seek permission."
Kaelen didn't answer.
Windu: "So speak less. Let results speak louder."
A flicker at Kaelen's jaw—the only sign of tension. Then his hand found his saber. He clipped it into place, scarred but polished, not with pride but with certainty.
When he finally turned to face Windu, there was no defiance. No obedience.
Only recognition.
And then he left.
He had not been granted permission.He had been given an opening.
Orbit to Diplomatic Landing Port – Afternoon
The Jedi cruiser broke cloud cover, revealing Calidrex: wiry ridges, deep-cut ravines, settlements carved into plateaus like scars on the land.
Kaelen stood at the viewport, helmet tucked under one arm, saber at his side. The sun caught his reflection faintly in the transparisteel. Behind him, Windu read from a holopad.
Windu: "Once a Republic supplier. Now stalling trade, accusing Core officials of theft."
Kaelen's eyes followed the broken ridges.
Kaelen: "Is it true?"
Windu looked up, tone cool.
Windu: "That's not the mission."
The ship banked toward a rust-stained hangar platform. No banners, no gilding. This was not a world built for dignitaries.
Windu: "Three factions await us. The Prime Minister. A guild leader. A Republic envoy."
Kaelen raised a brow.
Kaelen: "Tension guaranteed."
For once, Windu gave the faintest echo of agreement.
Windu: "So listen. Watch. And don't swing unless I say."
The ramp opened. Heat rolled in. Local militia lined the platform, hands resting near weapons but not quite holstered.
Kaelen stepped half a pace behind Windu, robes tugged by the wind, armored greaves visible. The militia's eyes lingered.
Let them see, Kaelen thought. Let them measure wrong.
Inside, the architecture turned brutalist—thick stone pillars, dim light, function over ceremony.
Windu spoke under his breath as they walked.
Windu: "They expect restraint. That gives us advantage. Not to use it. To hold it."
Kaelen: "A weapon doesn't need to be drawn to shape a room."
Windu didn't smile. Didn't argue.
Calidrex Prime Hall – Negotiation Chamber
The chamber smelled of iron and ozone. Six chairs circled the table. Only three were filled. The fourth sat empty—a message in itself.
Prime Minister Halvek sat like a soldier who'd never retired, armor under robes, cybernetic hand twitching.
Halvek: "This is not negotiation. This is extortion. Your shipments bled us dry. Miners sick. Families starving."
Opposite him, Guildmaster Marr—sleek robes laced with circuitry, arrogance like perfume.
Marr: "If Calidrex fails yields, the Guild reserves retrieval rights. The fault is not ours."
Senator Thren cut in, younger, polished, words honed like glass.
Thren: "Your 'retrievals' violate sovereignty. The Republic—"
Halvek (snapping): "That parliament was installed by your board."
Above, aides and archivists watched, silent. Recording.
Kaelen didn't watch the words. He watched hands. Eyes. Guards exchanging looks. The flinch when Thren was spoken over. The twitch in Halvek's cybernetic fingers.
And the fourth chair.Still empty.
Windu finally spoke, calm but heavy.
Windu: "We mediate. Not dictate."
His eyes cut briefly to Kaelen.
Signal.
Kaelen stepped forward, slow, voice carrying like steel dragged across stone.
Kaelen: "You argue numbers. But the missing pieces aren't just shipments."
Silence.
Kaelen: "Miners vanish. Escorts ambushed. These are patterns. Someone profits from the chaos."
Marr raised a brow.
Marr: "You imply treason?"
Kaelen: "I imply evidence. Someone's built a second supply line."
Halvek's jaw clenched.
Thren: "You have proof?"
Kaelen's gaze slid to the empty chair.
Kaelen: "The only seat that matters isn't here. Whoever arranged that doesn't want resolution. And they don't fear this room."
Windu added, low:
Windu: "But they will fear what comes next."
Marr shifted in his robes, too careful. Sweat glistened.
Halvek stood, gesturing to guards.
Halvek: "I'm done wasting words."
Thren: "We reconvene after Senate protocols."
Marr only nodded, mask cracking faintly.
The table emptied.
Kaelen remained, watching. Listening. Hand never near his saber.
Kaelen (quietly to Windu): "If diplomacy won't surface truth… then we dig."
The Underlevels
Calidrex growled beneath its skin.
Pipes convulsed, air thick with heat and pressure. Kaelen's visor filtered thermal glare. Pulse-sensors mapped movement. He ghosted through it like he belonged.
At a warped door, he listened.
Two voices. Male. Too comfortable to be innocent.
Through the grate: crates, an encryption terminal. And a face he knew.
Republic attaché Rallen Dorn. Supposed neutral mediator. Forgettable at the table.
Here? Signing diversion orders.
Dorn: "Thren's people won't push back."
Enforcer: "Good. If supply data leaks, we're tied to Geonosian shipments."
Dorn: "It won't. You've got payout. I've got silence."
Datapad exchanged hands. Kaelen's HUD captured routing codes, blacklisted containers disguised as aid.
He planted a beacon. Recorded. Then slipped away.
Not anger.Confirmation.
Kaelen (internal): "Not greed. Normalization. Rot spoken in rooms Jedi never enter. Until now."
His comm clicked open.
Windu: "Report."
Kaelen: "Compromised. One of yours. Dorn."
A pause.
Windu (measured): "…Understood. Stay in shadow. Keep recording."
Kaelen: "You trust me to walk this alone?"
Windu: "No. But I trust you'll find your way back."
Kaelen clicked off. The dark swallowed him.
Windu's Private Chamber, Night
Minimal. Four walls. A glow-terminal. No symbols.
Kaelen stood dirt-stained, armor stripped to underlayers. He laid an encrypted disk on the table.
Kaelen: "Logs. Audio. Location tags."
The holo flared—Dorn's voice, casual, damning.
Dorn (recorded): "Once the Geonosian shipment clears, we bury the Republic tags. No one traces it back."
An aide's nervous voice.
Unknown: "And the Jedi?"
Dorn: "They want peace. We give them quiet."
The image froze under Windu's hand.
Windu (quiet): "This was observation."
Kaelen: "I observed. Then I responded."
Windu: "That wasn't the order."
Kaelen: "Then the order was wrong."
Silence. Heavy.
Windu finally spoke, low.
Windu: "You disarmed the strike team. Took the node. Threatened a Republic overseer."
He stepped closer.
"Do you understand the political weight of this?"
Kaelen: "Do you understand the weight of not having it?"
The silence stretched taut.
Kaelen (low): "You sent me to do a Jedi's work. This is what it looks like."
Windu shut down the holo. Darkness returned.
Windu: "You think instinct justifies power?"
Kaelen: "I think restraint must be earned."
Windu: "And if the Council disagrees?"
Kaelen: "Then let them choke on results."
Windu studied him long. Then:
Windu: "You walk like someone to be trusted. But not followed."
Kaelen: "Then don't follow me. Just don't slow me down."
Another pause.
Windu: "You still believe you're not like them."
Kaelen: "I know I'm not."
He turned for the door.
Windu (softly): "Kaelen."
The younger man stopped.
Windu: "The Council will convene. Some will censure. Some will ask why we didn't act sooner."
A flicker of something like approval edged his voice.
"They won't name what you are yet. But they'll feel it. Soon."
Kaelen didn't nod. Didn't speak.He left.
Windu remained, hand on the dark terminal. Alone.
He thought a single truth, unspoken:
He was never trained for the Council's future. He was shaped for the thing they still pretend isn't coming.
The light died.Windu did not sleep.