(Lianorm Swamp, Eastern coast of Lake Paonga, 2 Hours Later)
Of the three police officers, only Constable Kiherri actually accompanied us aboard the repulsor-lift boat that had been waiting for us several miles beyond the city limits. The other two constables, plus six more they'd called in with a transport from their watch precinct, were following the directions I'd related to their superior. Instructions concerning the transportation and incarceration of trained Force-sensitives. It was encouraging to see the cops drop the disrespectful and argumentative demeanors as soon as I began speaking with authority in my area of expertise, but this entire incident had left a bad taste in my mouth.
Ravara's death had unquestionably made the galaxy a better place, and it was true that getting her minions off the street would almost certainly save lives, but there was just something about seeing the sibling of an innocent young woman I'd hoped to save brutally exacting his revenge on his sister's killer. It made the entire sequence of events feel like one final win for the Dark Jedi, or maybe it would be more accurate to call it a victory for the Dark Side itself. It was like Ravara had managed to reach out from beyond the grave to degrade someone one last time, as the price for ending her reign of terror.
The entire situation made me wonder if this was why so many Jedi Masters seemed so reluctant to kill even the most irredeemable monsters. The Dark Side was chaos, destruction, death and decay, as much as it could be said to be anything. Was it truly pernicious enough to prejudice any events involving the destruction of its servants, so those events still tended to result in a compounded gain in strength for the Dark Side as a whole? If that was the case, then it would certainly explain a historical oddity which had always puzzled me. The way the Dark Side so often seemed to desert even its most fanatical devotees at a critical moment, when the Dark Adept needed the power they'd traded everything for the most. It was only idle speculation I had no way of proving one way or another, but it was certainly something to think about.
A tiny, silent voice of reason inside me took the opportunity to do a bit of needling, "Maybe all those Jedi Masters, the ones with many decades more experience than you, actually, here's a thought, might know a few things about the Force that you don't, hmm?"
Giving my head a bit of a shake, as if I could so easily dislodge that irritating splinter of an idea, I found I was glad when Constable Kiherri's attention intruded on my musing. I'd noticed recently I could actually feel it the moment someone's attention became fixed on me, and even determine how intent that fix was. Just one more example of the way my powers were forever expanding. Powers that required no more effort on my part to do that than my simply continuing to use them. I knew the same was true for any trained Force-sensitive in a sense, but such sensitivities generally sharpened over months and years, not days and weeks.
It was a realization which had finally forced me to admit I could no longer hide from the reality of how much my experiences with the Force differed from my peers. For me, there was no slow, intimidatingly steep incline of the mind to climb up by laborious, hand over hand effort. My power rose on an inexorably rising thermal, upon which I soared like a bird, gaining altitude with almost every twitch of my proverbial wings. It was the kind of self-knowledge that might seem encouraging, until you thought it through, because I could think of at least one prodigy whose own experiences would have been a dark reflection of my own. Except his relationship with the Force had been going on for the last several decades.
Thoughts of Darth Sidious, I'd long since discovered, were the most unfailing of all possible cures for any potential onset of arrogance concerning my powers. I had that going for me, at least. Any time I was tempted to indulge in a bit of idiocy like "You've really been busting your backside for the last several months, Anakin, it wouldn't kill you to ease up for a couple of weeks," I had only to remember Palpatine, casually slaughtering Jedi Masters as a group that I was fortunate to occasionally edge out a win against one on one.
OK, so I had been holding myself to the Temple's "honorable" standard during those spars, but I was absolutely positive Masters Fisto and Koth had both been more interested in helping me learn than winning, even if I could push them to their limits. On the other hand, Master Antana's technical mastery simply outclassed my own. If her command of Battle Precognition and the Control techniques that enhanced one's physical performance were anywhere near as crisp and clear as mine, she'd still be scorching me like I was a Padawan sweating out my first braid-bead. The fact I happened to be spending fully half my nocturnal training-time these days studying texts covering the governing scientific principles of active natural phenomena wasn't doing much to advance my progress with the lightsaber either, but I refused to back away from my Master's standards for my training simply because they weren't mandatory anymore. It was Dark Woman's contention I should be able to do everything any Guardian or Consular who were both a bare minimum of five years my senior could do, and that if I could not, it was a deficiency in my training-ethic that was to blame, since unlike my peers, I didn't suffer from a debilitating medical condition depriving me of a third of my available time.
"Knight Skywalker?" The constable politely prompted, pulling me fully into the present. His voice lacked the challenging and judgmental overtones it had previously possessed, but the hint of chagrin in it still stopped a bit short of actual contrition.
Turning to face the man, I acknowledged him by meeting his eyes, then answered in a coolly courteous manner, "Yes, Constable? Is there something I can do for you?"
Wincing almost imperceptibly at the chilly reception, the man took a deep breath, nervously scratched at the faint stubble beneath his chin, then let that breath out slowly and said, "No, I just wanted to apologize. For weeks now, the other constables and I have all been working one double watch after another. Each of us hoping to find something to go on, with respect to the recent rash of disappearances among the ranks of the city's more prominent citizens. Last week, an already difficult task became a great deal harder, because of the mass departure of the Gungans. Many of them held very important positions, or they played significant roles in the civic-services sector. Things like dealing with the dangerous examples of megafauna which wander out of this swamp and into the commercial district or suburbs on a regular basis. None of that is an excuse for my putting words in your mouth, though, or not calling Constable Trialla down for her deliberately disrespectful manner, but none of us are at our best right now. It's important to me that you know what you heard was the stress, fatigue, and pent-up frustration talking. The Senator made a point of reminding me that, if it wasn't for you and the Jedi who trained you repeatedly risking your lives, there's a good chance I wouldn't even be here to criticize your idea of justice."
The aging police officer paused to assess my reaction to his words, and when I didn't immediately reply, he began to look genuinely discouraged. Something which finally prompted me to respond with a small sigh.
"It's not a problem, Constable. Most people go their whole lives without ever seeing a Jedi in the flesh, let alone finding one in the middle of their otherwise straightforward crime scene. I should have realized that my suggestions, however practical and welcome they might have seemed to me, were likely to be taken as me trying to tell you and the other constables how to do your jobs. At the risk of repeating my mistake, however, would you be interested in hearing what I thought of the disappearances you just mentioned?" I did my best to couch the question in the most diplomatic manner I could manage, because these constables were easily some of the prickliest people I'd ever encountered, and it seemed wise to try and avoid another social tangle.
Frowning a little, the man very bluntly responded, "You're trying to change the subject. Is that because you really think you know what's going on, or are you just trying to close the book on what happened back there?"
I had a feeling that the reason this cop was stubbornly refusing to let go of what had happened would have been glaringly obvious, if I'd been either Naboo, or more gifted in the social arena, but I set that dead-end thought aside and pressed onward with the point I was trying to make, "I'm reasonably certain that Ravara and the two men you just arrested are behind the disappearances. If you've been running into otherwise inexplicable occurrences during your investigations, such as people vanishing in rooms still locked from within, or witnesses reporting that some of the vanished were acting in an extremely uncharacteristic manner prior to their disappearance, I'd even go as far as saying I'm certain she's to blame."
The policeman's features became the mask of detached professionalism I recognized from the crime scene the moment he recognized the import of what I was saying, "Those are two very specific examples, Knight Skywalker. Specific enough to make me think you've either been reading our confidential documentation, or that you might have even known what was going to happen here," No sooner had the man finished speaking, than he suddenly blanched. His mouth pressing itself into a tight line, as he belatedly recognized his cynicism as an investigator had prompted him to speak before he thought through the implications of that hasty chain of reasoning.
Before the man could mire himself in another unnecessary apology, I held up a hand to forestall him, then replied, "Don't worry about it, Constable. I'd be suspicious of anyone who started pulling confidential findings from thin air myself. Guessing the nature of the mysteries confronting you and your comrades wasn't very hard, because I know all of the most common ways the Force is abused to serve the ends of a Dark Adept. Unfortunately, it takes neither great power or years of training to, say, work a dead-bolt, or punch a simple alpha-numeric code into a security interface with telekinesis. All a trained Force-sensitive would need is an unobstructed line of sight to the thing they wanted to manipulate, and I've noticed most Naboo homes appear designed to allow in a great deal of natural light."
Pausing to take a breath, I continued my explanation in a pensive tone, "The Bpfasshi you just arrested are both weaker and much less skilled than Ravara was, but neither man would need any tools or climbing gear to gain access to an upper-story window or skylight. Either of them could reach a high-rise balcony or rooftop, as easily as you or one of the other constables could vault a meter-high fence. Their skills would be more than enough to get them in and out of most homes in this city without a trace, whereas Ravara, on the other hand, could easily determine if a potential victim was susceptible to her vilest power. If they were, she could easily persuade them to go wherever she liked, whenever she liked. A person whose will has been dominated via the Force can be made to obey almost any command, but that's not the worst of it. A competent mind-bender will often layer multiple hypnotic suggestions over their victim's will. One order will convince the victim to allay the suspicions of friends or loved ones, another to lie about where they're going, you get the idea. Dominating a person's mind so thoroughly can cause severe damage to the victim's psyche, but the kind of person willing to learn how to do something so evil is nearly always the kind of user who sees other people as disposable tools or toys. Now, have I described anything that doesn't match what you've seen?"
Tapping the left side of his chin thoughtfully with the tip of one thumb, the constable replied like a man reciting something from memory "Back at the crime scene, you stated the deceased was a preferential killer of physically attractive women who'd achieved a degree of professional success. I'd have to review the list of the missing to give you a precise breakdown of the victim profiles, but speaking generally, less than a quarter of the missing even loosely match this Ravara's alleged preference. Only six or seven of these people possess any significant personal or professional connection to anyone else who's gone missing, so I'd say that's one problem with your theory right there."
"Only if you presuppose that Ravara's main reason for coming here was to indulge in her sick games. Personally, given the present troubles, I find her presence in the city with the easiest access to Gungan territory extremely suspect. Particularly when you consider the timing of her visit, and the two Bpfasshi Force-sensitives who were clearly functioning in a subordinate capacity to her. Ravara beginning to haunt this city only a couple weeks before the beginning of the problems with the Gungans is suspicious enough, but there's also the fact she was clearly keeping herself apprised as to the movements of any groups enroute to Lake Paonga. An emotionally and psychologically disturbed Dark Adept, who has never been known to include others in her nefarious activities, is freed from prison by the CIS, then just happens to not only select Moenia as her present hunting ground, but positions herself and her subordinates to waylay any Jedi headed for Otoh Gunga? I come to that last conclusion due to incriminating statements made by the Bpfasshi, Constable, but even setting aside those statements, there seem to be a troubling number of coincidences here. All of them seeming to serve the interests of anyone who would like to see the alliance between the Naboo and Gungans crumble," My reply to the peace officer's objection was quiet yet matter of fact. I could sense Padme's disquiet at how much I was revealing to a simple constable without even looking in her direction, but what was I supposed to do?
It might not be my job to supply beat cops with an intelligence briefing on planetary affairs, but I knew just how much I despised the mushroom-treatment. It just wasn't in me to deny relevant facts to someone who might well find themselves in harm's way because of what's happening sometime in the near future. If the good constable chose not to believe me, then at least I'd know that I tried.
Instead of replying immediately, the older man seemed to give the points that had just been raised serious consideration. When he did respond almost a minute later, it was with a nod that became firmer after a moment, and a much more troubled expression, "I think you're right, Knight Skywalker. I've been on and overseen enough stakeouts to know how all-consuming an activity it is. Especially when manpower is limited, and the operation requires that you be ready to move in on the suspect or suspects at a moment's notice. If Ravara and her men intercepted you within minutes of your party reaching the first major thoroughfare adjacent to the spaceport, they either knew you were coming, or they've put the time and resources into developing a professional degree of surveillance over the most likely routes to the docks. I wouldn't have thought three people could pull off something like that, but if you're right about their acting at the behest of the CIS, and I'm willing to defer to your judgment on that as the better-informed party, there's no telling what kind of resources they might have been provided with. Throw enough credits at any problem, and you'll usually find a solution."
Pausing a moment, the police officer went back to scratching the stubble beneath his chin, before eventually continuing in a dissatisfied tone, "There's still one sticking-point in your theory, though. The missing men and women who don't fit the deceased's alleged victim profile. Why abduct or murder so many people with such high profiles? If, as you contend, the deceased was sent here to watch for any group on its way to Otoh Gunga which contained a Jedi, so as to prevent their intervention in whatever's going on with the Gungans, then abducting and murdering more than two dozen people seems like the very last thing someone tasked with such a mission would want to do. I'm willing to believe a deranged psychopath might do something counterproductive because of their compulsive need to indulge themselves, but that only explains the minority who match her victim profile. Why would she endanger her mission by drawing so much attention her way, regarding the rest?"
That was a very good point, and it wasn't a question I had an immediate answer for. Considering the problem for a few moments, it seemed to me the rough shape of what Ravara had been about was something my mind could almost grasp, but I needed a question answered to validate my perception of the patterns at work here.
"How did the Constabulary respond, when you first realized the disappearances weren't isolated events?" I asked the short but compact cop who'd been watching me intently as he waited for an answer.
"Well, during the first week, the Chief Constable issued a public safety advisory on the local Holonet. It was really nothing more than a list of suggested safety measures, like not going out alone late at night, double checking that one's windows and doors were locked before turning in, and not meeting with any strangers after dark. When the number of disappearances only increased during the second week, a second announcement advised the public to conclude even essential business prior to eight pm. The increased patrols we instituted during the first week were doubled again, but they did nothing to curtail the disappearances. Finally, three days ago, a mandatory eight pm curfew was implemented. Once the curfew went into effect, there were no further disappearances, so we all thought the curfew was somehow stymieing the abductors. At least until the situation we just left behind us convinced me to doubt that conclusion," Constable Kiherri replied in exhaustive detail. His dark eyes remained focused on me as he spoke. Searching for any hint of the reasoning that had prompted my most recent question.
"There weren't any unusual occurrences after the curfew went into effect? It doesn't have to be anything that seems connected to the disappearances. Just something you'd consider out of the ordinary, if this had been a more normal month in the city," I pressed in response. I didn't know what exactly I was looking for, but in my mind, I'd managed to establish a tenuous grip on the shape of Ravara's activities here. Now, my intuition was urging me to dig deeper.
I felt a stab of disappointment as the grizzled cop started to shake his head, but then his dark brows furrowed in concentration. A moment went by, and then another, before he finally replied, "I remember hearing a couple of the least-senior constables complaining about one of last night's calls in the locker room this morning. I walked in on the back end of the conversation, but the gist of it seemed to be their dissatisfaction with having to remain at a scene for the district coroner last night, even after foul play was ruled out. Normally, R.W.P.R.S; that's the Royal Wildlife Protection and Regulation Service, would be the ones to take over a scene where someone was injured or killed by an animal, so it would be their job to assist the coroner with the remains and secure the scene in the meantime, but what with more than two-thirds of the W.P.R.S field-agents being Gungan, it's fallen on the Constabulary to pick up the slack."
Feeling my interest continue to sharpen as the man continued with his explanation, I found myself rapidly lobbing questions his way the moment he'd finished speaking, "Who was the victim, where did this happen, and what was it that convinced the constabulary it was an animal attack?"
I couldn't have explained why I was so certain, but I was suddenly positive that there was a connection between the incident the constable had just described, and whatever was going on here. Unfortunately, that was the extent of my intuitive flash. There was no indication of what that connection was, or how I might go about acquiring that knowledge.
Caught off-guard by my sudden intensity, Constable Kiherri nevertheless recovered almost instantly. He had his datapad in hand before a couple more seconds passed, and in less than a minute's time, an answer for me.
"Let's see, the victim's name was Rolfe Ankar, age thirty-seven. Originally from Eriadu, he's been under investigation for some time, due to our suspicion that he's a prominent figure in the network of smugglers based somewhere in this swamp. Rolfe was the owner and proprietor of the Foggy Bog, a rather seedy bar and club that butts right up against the Sonic Deterrence Field marking the outermost edge of Moenia, and separating city from swamp. The victim maintained a residence on the Foggy Bog's upper floor via a commercial exemption to the city ordinance forbidding residences within twelve hundred meters of the S.D.F boundary, and he was found less than twenty-five meters from the stairway running up the eastern outer wall of the building to his apartment. The coroner's initial C.O.D was shock-induced heart failure, brought on by exsanguination via laceration of the gastric artery," The constable reported, reading from his datapad.
Looking up at me with a small frown, the short yet wiry cop offered a slight shrug, then concluded, "It looks like the smuggler was set upon by a rogue Narglatch that braved the S.D.F. There were shallow lacerations to the top of the right pectoral and the outside of the forearm on the same side. Injuries consistent with wounds caused by a blow from a forepaw, as the victim was falling back and away from the beast, with much deeper wounds to the gut. The kind of injury you'd expect to see once the cat was atop him and setting to work with its rear paws to eviscerate prey. Ankar had a permit-of-necessity for an RSKF-44 Heavy Blaster, which was found at the scene beside the body. The weapon's six-shot power cell had four two-bolt shots worth of charge remaining, so the conclusion was something tipped Ankar off to the predator's presence just before it pounced, he turned and flung up his off-arm to protect his throat, then went for his weapon. Fired at the oncoming animal from point-blank range, an RSKF-44 packs enough of a punch to do an enormous amount of damage, but the minimal kinetic transfer on the part of the bolts wouldn't do anything to stop the Narglatch's forward progress. Ankar's first shot connects, maybe his second does as well, but he goes down under the beast as it slams into him, then gets gutted as soon as the beast settles atop him. Finally realizing it's been hurt too badly to carry off a one hundred and forty kilo man, the Narglatch limps back into the swamp to lick its wounds and maybe die. Ankar, meanwhile, goes into shock and bleeds out at the scene. Not my idea of a good way to go, but I'm not seeing how this incident connects to, well, anything."
Closing my eyes, I slowed my breathing, shut out all sensory stimuli that might distract me, and considered what the constable just said. Abruptly, my thoughts were jerked back to my memory of the vision that came to me right before we arrived. It now seemed rather obvious that either Crissayel or his sister had been the first of the fading lights I'd Seen trapped in that wireframe prison of light, so the second trapped and fading light must be drawing near.
"That's my best guess, anyways," I couldn't help thinking, as I tried and failed to come up with an answer to the constable's implied question.
Thinking of barriers and traps, I found myself asking as my eyes opened, "Other than the injuries themselves, was there any direct evidence of a narglatch's involvement? Any hair on the victim's clothes, DNA in the wounds, or blood on the ground? An RSKF-44 should have burnt a hole the size of a Wookie's joined fists into anything organic at point-blank range, so even if we're only talking about a clump of charred hair or a bit of blood spatter, there should have been something."
The cop's lined and deeply tanned features took on a troubled cast at this observation, but other than returning his attention to whatever was presently displayed on his datapad, he didn't offer any reaction or response to my questions or comment, so I decided to press the point.
Before I got the chance, however, the captain of the repulsor-lift boat, a Sullustan named Runn Vel suddenly broke his journey-long silence to announce, "Five minutes to the southeasternmost edge of Lake Paonga. All of you need to be off my craft within one minute of arrival, as we agreed."
Watching Padme slip past me with a brief smile to handle the exceptionally nervous captain, I decided to just come out and tell the constable what I was thinking, "To answer your question about why Ravara targeted people that would be missed immediately, Constable, I think she, or more accurately, whoever it was that sent her here, wanted to cause a public scare. Scared people tend to alternate between keeping their heads down while minding their own business, and demanding the authorities put a stop to whatever's scaring them. Those are both behaviors that keep people's attention focused on the cause of their fear, and what they can do to avoid said cause. I can't tell you why Ravara's CIS backers went to such lengths to focus the collective attention of the citizenry on the depredations of a mysterious killer, but I'm almost certain that Rolfe Ankar's death ties into all of this, somehow. I'd consider it a personal favor, though, if you were to go over everything from the last time the man was seen alive. to ensuring the limits of forensic examination were brought to bear on his remains. If the coroner decided early on that it was an animal attack, I'd wager the usual budget-minded, cost-cutting measures leaped into action from that point onward."
Grimacing as he absorbed my request, the cop's lined features seemed even older as he spread his hands helplessly and replied, "I'm willing to take your word for it, Knight Skywalker, and I can probably call in a couple favors to get a Foreign Body Scan done on Ankar's remains, but I'd need the Lieutenant-Constable's authorization to push the Chief Coroner into treating the remains like they're a victim of the Shadow. Ahh, that's what the local Holo-Net's been killing the perpetrator of the abductions. Moenia isn't Theed, and we definitely don't have the kind of budget their Constabulary has. I'm reminded of how over budget we are every time the Lieutenant-Constable sits in on the bi-weekly meeting of the senior Watch-leaders as it is. I'm sorry, but as far as your word goes on Naboo, it won't go as far as 'spurious scans draining an already overtaxed budget' with the Ell-Cee."
An ember of irritation that had been glowing faintly in the back of my mind ever since I began dealing with the constables suddenly ignited into a flare of genuine anger at this latest obstruction. The frustration I'd been feeling over the need to manage Constable Kiherri fueled that anger, until before I knew it, my mouth was open, and I was ready to fall back on my credentials with Republic Intelligence to demand the scans be run as a matter of the Republic's security.
Eyes narrowed, my gaze happened to pass over Ahsoka as I habitually scanned the area about the conveyance we still stood upon, before my gaze returned to the object of my anger and frustration. Agitated as I was, it took a moment for what I'd just noticed to really register, then I felt a bit flummoxed.
Instead of just staring off into space or finding some trivial means to relieve the boredom induced by this long ride down a swampy trail that was frankly rather monotonous in its near uniformity, my new apprentice appeared quite intent on studying my interactions with the constable. I didn't think she was close enough to hear our conversation, but her open, honest, eager curiosity made me want to smile, and this in turn caused me a moment's confusion. The anger I'd been feeling, and this gentler emotion collided and refused to mix, like oil and water.
"What the fark is wrong with me? I mean, sure, the Constable isn't exactly the easiest person to work with, and yes, his habit of fixating on one subject until you want to shake him is a little annoying, but since when am I the kind of person to pull rank and stomp on someone to get my way?" I didn't have an immediate answer for either of these questions, and that was genuinely disturbing, given how much effort my Master had put into ensuring I had a good idea of who I was and wasn't. No one was ever going to accuse me of being the most serene, levelheaded person they'd met, but I didn't lose my cool and treat the locals like ignorant impediments either.
Concerned enough to launch a deeply ingrained process of self-assessment taught to me by Dark Woman, I began methodically reviewing everything that had happened from the time Crissayel had killed Ravara, up to a few moments ago, when the aberrant emotional reaction came to my attention. Reaching the moment in memory where I'd spotted Crissayel lifting the second of two identical necklaces off the unconscious Bpfasshi, I found myself tempted to smack the base of my palm into my forehead.
The repulsor-lift craft was slowing to turn and come up alongside the platform floating on the water at the edge of Lake Paonga by the time I held up a hand to indicate to the constable I needed a moment. "IG-1, could you come over here and present the H.V.C.C?"
Watching the previously motionless droid loom up to his full height and begin smoothly weaving pass the craft's other occupants to reach me, I took a moment to explain myself to the man I'd just been speaking with, "My apologies, Constable, I seem to have been a bit remiss about enacting proper containment procedures. I'll be with you in just a few moments."
Looking on as the tall droid marched up, did an about-face to show me his back, and opened up a small rectangular chamber in his rear torso armor plating that was lined with polished yet cracked whitish-gray stone, the policeman's curiosity got the better of him, as I took the black necklaces with their heavy, organic-looking pendants out of my belt-pouch and deposited them inside IG-1's High Value or Contamination Containment chamber. Mouth partway open as he struggled to find a way to phrase his question, the Constable and I both watched as the battle-droid's phrik-composite armor plating slid shut, before he finally just came out and asked the obvious question.
"Why does your droid have a stone-lined compartment in its back, and what were those things you deposited inside it? Please tell me that wasn't evidence you removed from a crime scene where a Class One offense was committed, Knight Skywalker!" There was an almost pained tiredness to the constable's question and follow-up statement, but I'd had quite enough of working within the constraints of local procedure for the nonce, and essentially said as much.
"The stone is Alderaanian marble, from the Plaza of Emancipation. Circumstances give said stone a number of helpful properties, when it comes to containing objects tainted with malignant energies, and droids are far less susceptible to Dark Side contamination than any organic sapient to begin with. Otherwise, there is no productive way to answer your question, Constable. Suffice to say said objects fall squarely within the remit of the Jedi Order, have no substantive bearing on any active investigation of the Constabulary, and that you absolutely do not want to go on record as arguing those amulets should be turned over to you or any other representative of the Constabulary."
Our gazes locked as I finished my explanation, but I had neither the time nor the inclination to argue about this. If the Constable couldn't demonstrate the better part of valor here, I really would trot out the "Matter of Republic Security" privileges granted me as an S.U.A. I might eventually end up having to justify my reason(s) for doing so, but it wouldn't be to this man, his Chief Constable, or even Queen Jamilia.
The bump of the repulsor-lift boat against the floating platform brought an end to our staring contest. Blinking, the cop finally sighed, shook his head sharply, then wisely returned to the previous topic, "I'll do my best to get the scans of Ankar's remains performed as soon as possible, but it will take me at least a couple of hours to find out what Ankar was doing, and where he went during his final twelve hours. That's assuming he remained in the city, mind you. If he went more than a few hundred meters into the swamp or took an aircar beyond my jurisdiction, I won't be able to learn anything useful about his activities in a useful frame of time. I, ahh, I don't know what you think you can do about the Gungans, but I wish you the best of luck with your mission, anyways."
The pilot was making urgent gestures amounting to "Get off my kriffing boat this instant!" so I offered the cop my final hurried suggestions, "Focus on the couple of hours preceding Ankar's time of death, and make sure the coroner doesn't confine their attention to the wound-tracts. The entire cadaver needs to scanned for any traces of high-grade duranium, phrik alloys, and any cortosis composites which might have been left behind by simple contact transfer. You might also want to check Ankar's weapon, because if this incident was treated like an animal attack, I doubt anyone did a full disassembly to check the warranty tell-tale chip for evidence the weapon was rapidly reloaded."
I was already turning to make sure I was the first off the boat to secure the platform for the others, so I only saw the man shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. His reply, though, that I heard clearly enough, "Just handle the Jedi end of things, Knight Skywalker. If there's anything criminal going on in my city, with all due respect, I won't need pointers from a talented amateur to find it.
Despite the temptation to point out he'd needed just such a pointer to get the ball rolling, I let the prickly yet committed investigator have the last word. Allowing the press of my disembarking companions to carry me off the boat and onto the platform, to await our next ride.
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Once the pilot of the repulsor-lift craft had whipped his vessel through a hasty three-point turn and torn back the way we'd come, it was just me, Padme, Ahsoka and IG-1, standing on a well-used, pier-like platform at the edge of the enormous Lake Paonga. Calling this body of water a mere lake was something of a misnomer, given the fact I couldn't see so much as the suggestion of curvature to either my right or left, and nothing that so much as resembled the faintest hint of the far shore even with Force-enhanced eyesight. It would be more accurate to call "Lake" Paonga a sizable inland sea. One I happened to know ran a full order of magnitude deeper than the deepest point of the deepest ocean covering the world of my first birth.
The Gungans had long ago discovered that the plasma which sheathed the planet's core had honeycombed the planet's crust to such an extent, it was actually possible to circumnavigate the globe by simply following old plasma-chambers long since flooded. That was part of why they could seem so easy-come, easy-go about events which transpired on the surface. At this point in their development as a civilization, building metropolises on the seafloor was a solved problem, and this fact gave them a degree of protection from any depredations committed by surface-dwellers. A degree of protection, but not invulnerability, as the amphibious race had discovered to their consternation during the invasion by the Trade Federation a decade earlier. Droids didn't need to breathe, and as a rule, were far more tolerant of pressure and temperature extremes than organics, so with enough prior planning, assembling a force of military automatons kitted out for aquatic warfare and occupation was by no means an insurmountable goal. The lake-dwellers had learned to their cost that they couldn't simply turn a blind eye to what happened above, and that they were stronger when they joined hands with the surface-dwelling Naboo than they ever could be alone.
"That's what makes this full-scale withdrawal and Boss Lyonie's paranoid belligerence so surprising," I considered. Wracking my brains for any clue that might be hiding in my tattered and fraying foreknowledge as to what might be going on, while I kept a sharp watch on the jungle at our backs, the lakeshore to either side of us, and the waters before and below us. My natal Clear Mind defense was presently a burst soap-bubble, for all the concealment it offered, because my Force Sense was sweeping out far and wide of us to warn me of any approaching life-forms. The immense trees at our backs, the countless insects buzzing about us, and the sheer weight-by-area of all the simple and complex life in the water around us made keeping watch with the Force a difficult proposition at the moment, but Dark Woman had seen our long-ago trip to Circarpous V as a wonderful weeks-long training opportunity for occasions just like this. At the time, I'd thought her demands that I successfully keep track of specific dragonfly-analog insects with my Force Sense over thousand-meter-plus distances had been sadistic even for her, so it was only a couple of years later, as I'd really begun to dig into the Sense umbrella during the final quarter of my apprenticeship that I'd realized what a blessing her unrelenting demands for success that brooked no excuses really had been.
I just hoped for Ahsoka's sake I had it in me to be the same kind of demanding, exacting, and remorselessly driven teacher she'd need. One who wouldn't allow terminally shortsighted sympathy to ruin her chances of realizing her immense potential. I'd always thought my predecessor had cared too much about replicating the "More Older Sibling than Master" relationship he'd had with Obi-Wan when it had come his turn to teach, and I'd always insisted I wouldn't make that mistake in his position.
Something that was easier said than done, when you were constantly being sucked in by the young woman's earnest curiosity and passion for learning. It was already apparent to me how easy it would be to allow her drive to achieve to convince me I could rely on my student to supply her own motivation, thus sparing me from having to act as the always-critical heavy. That made me wonder how many other possible pitfalls to being a great teacher I hadn't yet identified.
"Credit for your thoughts, Master Jedi?" Padme asked in a quiet voice from beside me. Through our growing Force-bond, I could sense she was frustrated that she'd been unable to persuade our pilot to remain until our next ride arrived, and that she was unsettled by the looming and ominous swamp at our backs, but you couldn't hear any of that through the calm tone she'd maintained. Again, I found myself impressed by her poise and self-possession. It spoke to the strength of her character, and that spoke to me, as I'd always been drawn to the qualities in a woman that you couldn't perceive at a glance. Not that there was anything the least bit objectionable about the wrapper this specific bundle of character came in.
"I was just thinking how much this place reminds me of another forbidding track of jungle and swamp I once slogged through, and how much good the place ultimately ended up doing me because of demands my former Master made of my abilities that seemed mad at the time. Our circumstances seemed a bit cyclical for a moment, since now I'm the one responsible for seeing to it my young apprentice develops the good habits and judgment that will be the basis of her training. The kind of good judgment that would allow her to recognize how inappropriate, inefficient, and downright silly it is, to use the Force to eavesdrop on a conversation she could have simply asked to join."
There was a startled gasp behind me, followed by a gulp so loud, it would have been audible from meters away. These sounds were followed by those of a half-dozen rapid footfalls on the hollow metal surface we stood upon, as my blushing Padawan all but skidded to a halt beside me on my right. She'd already begun stammering her way through an apology before her feet came to a full stop, but I simply held up a hand in a silent request for silence that she quickly obliged, with a second and thankfully quieter gulp.
"Relax, Ahsoka, I'm not going to kill you and eat you because you let your curiosity get the better of you. I thought I felt a faint something a couple of times while talking to the Constable, and that tells me you've developed a fairly deft touch with a Sense technique I'm positive isn't part of the Temple's Initiate-curriculum. Why don't you explain where you came by such knowledge, and we can chalk this little misstep up to a learning experience. With the understanding that you'll do much better asking questions than you will trying to spy on me, and that you need to control your impulses, rather than allowing them to control you," I stated after a moment in a relaxed yet firm tone. Turning to look at my unsettled apprentice as I did so.
Still a bit darker mauve than she was normally, I was surprised to see she was distraught enough to actually wring her hands, as a helplessly frustrated expression bordering on pained suffused her pretty features.
"I, I can't tell you that, Master. I gave my word not to tell anyone who taught me how to make my hearing keener and my eyesight sharper," Ahsoka responded, her voice starting out small, but gaining strength as she continued, until she was staring back at me defiantly.
Well, that certainly made things easier. I pasted an extremely serious frown on my face, then inquired in a grave tone, "Are you refusing to answer your Master because you're genuinely committed to the ideal of keeping every promise you'll ever make throughout the course of your life, or are you simply trying to protect a friend who broke the rules to teach you something the Order has decided a Jedi should learn from their Master, after becoming a Padawan? The truth, now, my apprentice."
Looking more than a little queasy, yet still defiant, the Togruta's chin came up, as she replied with only the briefest hesitation, "I was the one who begged, pleaded, and twisted my friend's arm until they agreed to teach me. If you want someone to punish for that, Master, then you're going to have to settle for me, because I won't break my promise."
Sensing the absolute sincerity rolling off my apprentice in waves, I allowed the smile I'd been fighting to quirk the corners of my mouth upward, "Fair enough, Padawan Tano. I just hope Padawan Brood knows how lucky she is to have such a good friend."
I paused a moment to let the shocked sputtering on my apprentice's part play itself out, then tapped a finger to the corner of one eye by way of silent explanation as she continued to gape at me. I had a wise, or at least wiseass remark that sounded wise on the tip of my tongue, but then I sensed a major disturbance in the water directly in front of us. IG-1 beat me to interposing himself between the group and the huge bubbling wash of the water in front of the platform, so we stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting to see what it was that was emerging from the deeps.
A sizable matte-yellow and brown submarine with huge bubble windows boiled to the surface parallel to the platform only a moment later. Allowing me to finally relax, because I hadn't sensed the nature of the approaching vehicle at all.
One of the bubbles in the mid-section of the sub-surface transport's midsection abruptly vanished. Signaling one very obvious conclusion as it did so.
Our ride to the Gungan city had finally arrived.208ShawnJul 13, 2022Reader mode Threadmarks SShurikenJul 13, 2022#1,232I love the way you write and this story, but I will admit. I was hoping we would be further ahead in the plot by the end of this chapter. I might actually skip the next updates just to have some story beats to read next time I pass by haha xD12CCelestialicJul 13, 2022#1,233Thanks for the chapter.
Tho I have to ask… is it really so necessary to have every one act so antagonistic towards Anakin all the time.
Feels forced and it's just weary to have every single character act like they have a personal vendetta in every situation.
Hell even the council dialogue is just a dick measuring contest.Last edited: Jul 13, 20228GtopiaJul 13, 2022#1,234I'm honestly losing so much interest in this story. Anakin is just a constant walking doormat, he hasn't grown whatso ever. Pretty sure this isnt the first time you tried to handwave stuff away the next chapter either by addressing why it's okay for him to act so meek and submissive.
Anakin giving the cop a cool look for a few seconds before immediately caving again and being a lil bitch is even worse, its inconsistent.
If Anakins a lil bitch, then fine, fair enough. Constantly giving him a few seconds of having a backbone then instantly folding on the other hand is just irritating.
I'm not asking for edge lord Anakin. I'm completely fine with a kind, empathetic, soft spoken MC. It's just that it feels like you've confused kind for weak. So what if he can swing a saber real good, when apparently any random corrupt beat cop can completely dominate him?9PPetrox36Jul 13, 2022#1,235Maybe at this place we will be able to reach the end by 20303Noobody77Jul 13, 2022#1,236Petrox36 said:Maybe at this place we will be able to reach the end by 2030More like 2045 lol3VVikingstarJul 13, 2022#1,237I like your story, and I think you should write it at your own pace and in your own way.10C1rseJul 13, 2022#1,238As always, thanks for the update! Still really enjoying the story.
It's fascinating to watch how Anakin's character is developing as a mentor to Ahsoka. His stability is a great foil to Ahsoka's relative immaturity.
I love how measured your story is too; you take time to flesh out your characters and the direction of the plot. Webfiction can often be too focussed on instant gratification imo.
I look forward to the next chapter, thanks again! 4SShawnJul 13, 2022#1,239Thanks for the encouragement Vikingstar & chase
For those dissatisfied with the pacing, I get it, I really do. I'm not best-pleased with the amount of "connective tissue" writing that's necessary (IMHO) to deal with the beginning of what in "Legends Canon" is the Clone Wars Era. Before it's all battling fleets/armies, and bold spec-ops missions against H.V.Ts.
A lot of interesting stuff went down on Naboo, which got (Again, IMO) freakishly glossed over in the cartoon. A third of the Gungans got gassed like rats on the moon, an attempt was made to ignite a full-scale land-slaughter (You can't call a fight between the Gungan Grand Army and Naboo's security forces + fighter wings a war), the place was almost chosen by a second mad genius for inhuman chemical weapon-release documentation studies, and that's just the cartoon events. There was rather a lot more that happened in the various novel series, like Queen's Shadow....
I decided to make the happenings here emblematic of the conflict really beginning to burn from its recent flashpoints (From Anakin's PoV)...so it took some time to set up. Things will pick up next chapter, this I guarantee, simply because I have a hard time imagining how it would take very long for the protagonist to realize what's rotten in Otoh Gunga.
As far as the people accusing the MC of being spineless, I really don't know what to say. Dealing with strangers when you need their assistance requires diplomacy. If you're expecting severed limbs and a "Jedi business, go back to your drinking" every other chapter, you're probably going to be disappointed.
It's hilarious to me that anyone thought Constable Kiherri was being antagonistic, because he's written to be trying to play down the clash at the crime scene, because Anakin's rather famous on Naboo, and as troubled as the galaxy's gotten, a lot of planets are getting more Pro-Jedi in a hurry. The guy was falling over himself apologizing every other breath, yet he's conscientious about being a peace officer, how should all that have come off?