Kael did not answer immediately.
Sunlight spilled fully into his quarters now, washing pale stone in warm brilliance and reducing shadow to thin outlines along the pillars. Coruscant gleamed beyond the transparisteel window — radiant, vast, deceptively calm.
He stood between Windu and Yoda for a long moment, blue eyes steady, jaw set in that familiar balance between compliance and resistance.
"Fine," he said at last.
The word was not defiant.
It was a reluctant acceptance.
He exhaled through his nose and glanced briefly toward the window before letting his gaze fall again to the two Masters. "Seems far more of a drag than it should be," he muttered, almost to himself.
His eyes flicked toward Yoda, and something faintly mischievous — or perhaps simply unfiltered — crossed his expression.
"This isn't because you don't feel like flying to Kamino yourself, is it?" he asked lightly. "A planet I've never heard of, by the way. You just want someone else to pilot the ship?"
The question hovered in the warm air of the chamber.
For a heartbeat, Windu's gaze sharpened — not in anger, but in warning.
Yoda, however, chuckled.
It was a soft sound, weathered by centuries but undeniably amused.
"Still as expressive as ever, you are," he said, brown eyes gleaming faintly. "Unfiltered, your thoughts remain."
Kael gave a small shrug, unrepentant.
Windu did not smile.
"You will remember yourself," he said evenly. "You are a Jedi Knight."
The words carried no raised tone, no overt reprimand — yet their weight was unmistakable.
Kael inclined his head slightly, though something in his posture suggested the correction had landed only partially.
"Yes, Master."
Windu's gaze drifted — not subtly — toward the durasteel chest recessed into the wall.
"You may not choose to look like one," Windu continued, voice deep and measured, "but you will conduct yourself as one."
The implication lingered without needing to be stated.
Kael followed the line of sight.
His eyes rested briefly on the chest.
Then he stepped toward it.
He did not kneel.
He did not bend.
Instead, he lifted one hand slightly, palm open, fingers relaxed.
The Force answered without strain.
The chest rose smoothly from its place against the wall, durasteel catching the sunlight as it lifted into the air. There was no dramatic flare, no visible exertion — only seamless control. The box hovered at his side as naturally as a shadow.
Yoda watched with quiet interest.
Windu's expression did not change.
Kael crossed to the door and placed his palm against the access panel. The mechanism responded at once, sliding open with a muted hiss. He stepped aside to allow Yoda and Windu to exit first, the chest gliding silently beside him as though tethered by an invisible thread.
The corridor beyond felt different now.
Not calmer — simply resigned.
The Temple had already begun emptying of its available strength. The distant roar of starfighters had faded into memory; what remained was a quieter rhythm of preparation. Masters moved with deliberate urgency, issuing final instructions. Temple Guards stood in doubled ranks at intersections, halberds upright, their posture sharper than before.
Kael fell into step slightly behind Windu and Yoda, one arm extended casually at his side, fingers barely flexed as the floating chest kept pace beside him. Its weight was considerable; its presence undeniable.
No one commented.
No one needed to.
As they moved through the meditative walkway once more, stained-glass panels cast fractured light across the floor — ancient depictions of the Hyperspace Wars gleaming faintly in shifting colors. The contrast was almost ironic. History etched in glass while new history prepared to unfold in orbit.
"Geonosis will not be simple," Windu said quietly as they walked, his voice low enough that only the three of them could hear. "Intelligence suggests a concentration of Separatist leadership."
Yoda's cane tapped softly against the stone with each step.
"Many gathered there are," he murmured. "Dooku among them."
Kael's brow tightened faintly at the name.
Count Dooku.
Former Jedi.
Now something else.
"And we're not going," Kael said lightly, though there was less humor in it now.
Windu did not break stride.
"You are being assigned where you are needed."
Needed.
The word was chosen carefully.
Kael's gaze shifted briefly toward Yoda.
"And Kamino?" he asked.
"Hidden long it has been," Yoda replied. "Beyond common charts."
Kael considered that.
"A hidden world," he said. "With an army."
"Yes," Windu answered.
They reached the main corridor leading back toward the hangar. The scale widened again, pillars rising high above them, bronzium statues gleaming under renewed light. The Temple felt simultaneously immense and hollow — as though its center of gravity had shifted outward into the sky.
Kael walked steadily, the chest floating in precise parallel at his side, his boots echoing softly in rhythm with Yoda's cane.
"Just so I'm clear," he said after a moment, tone quieter now, stripped of earlier sarcasm. "You're sending me with the Grand Master to inspect an army I didn't know existed."
"You are being sent," Windu corrected gently, "because what you are about to see will shape your understanding of what this Order is becoming."
The words settled more heavily than any reprimand.
Kael did not respond.
Ahead, the vast threshold of the primary hangar came back into view. Through it, bright sky spilled in where the blast doors had opened fully. Several remaining starfighters waited along the edges, engines primed but idle. The air smelled faintly of ozone and heated durasteel.
Kael's expression had shifted — not resistant, not compliant.
Focused.
War was moving in one direction.
He was being sent in another.
As they stepped once more into the echoing expanse of the hangar, the chest floating effortlessly beside him, Kael allowed himself one final thought before discipline reclaimed it:
If this army exists… then everything is about to change.
And for the first time since leaving his quarters, he no longer felt merely inconvenienced.
He felt curious.
The primary hangar had changed again by the time they stepped fully into it.
Where earlier it had been filled wall to wall with robed figures and idling starfighters, it now felt vast and partially hollow — an echoing cathedral of departure. Rows of Delta-7s were gone, their absence leaving clean, rectangular shadows across the polished deck. Those that remained were lifting in steady intervals, engines flaring bright against the open sky before angling sharply toward the upper atmosphere. Through the wide blast doors, Coruscant's skyline gleamed as if nothing below understood what had just been set in motion above it.
Maintenance droids hurried in purposeful arcs between the last few ships, clearing lanes, transmitting final telemetry bursts. Temple Guards stood at the perimeter, no longer directing crowds but observing departure.
At the far end of the hangar, apart from the fighters, a T-6 shuttle waited.
Its frame bore the Galactic roundel along the flank, paint pristine and unscuffed. The craft's distinctive rotating cockpit was currently aligned forward, transparisteel canopy reflecting the hangar lights in sharp angles. Twin engine blocks rested low and wide, quiet but primed, their housings giving off a faint hum that suggested restrained power. Unlike the sleek austerity of the starfighters, the T-6 had a broader presence — less a blade, more a vessel built for distance. Its hull implied hyperspace capability and endurance, a shuttle meant to travel far and remain operational.
Its ramp extended down onto the deck, inviting but not yet urgent.
Kael walked toward it without breaking stride, the durasteel chest floating seamlessly beside him. Yoda moved at his side, cane tapping softly against metal now rather than stone. Windu slowed slightly, his path angling toward a waiting starfighter several bays over.
A sharp series of electronic chirps cut through the layered engine noise.
From beneath the wing of the T-6 rolled a compact astromech unit, dome swiveling rapidly as it locked onto Kael. The droid was similar in silhouette to countless R-series units across the Republic — cylindrical body, domed head — but its plating was matte black rather than white, segmented by narrow stripes of deep violet that mirrored the accents Kael favored in armor. The central photoreceptor glowed a crisp blue, brighter than standard configuration, and faint scarring marked the lower panels as if it had seen more field deployment than maintenance bay idleness.
The droid let out an eager whistle, dome tilting upward.
Kael's expression softened by a degree almost imperceptible to anyone else.
"R2-X9," he said evenly, the name carrying faint familiarity. "Is she ready?"
The astromech emitted a string of affirmative beeps, dome rotating toward the cockpit and back again as if to emphasize its point.
Kael nodded once.
"Good," he replied. "I'd prefer not to drift in hyperspace because you forgot to recalibrate the motivator."
A sharp, indignant trill answered him.
A faint corner of his mouth lifted.
"Relax," he said. "Thank you."
The droid responded with a shorter, satisfied chirp before pivoting and rolling toward the shuttle's access port, extending a slim interface probe as it went.
Windu approached from the side, having paused near his own craft long enough to issue final instructions to a Temple Guard. He stopped within a few paces of Kael and Yoda, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the deck.
"Coordinates have been transmitted," Windu said, voice measured even against the engine roar overhead. "Kamino lies beyond the usual hyperlanes. Follow the Grand Master's guidance precisely."
Kael inclined his head slightly.
"And if there's nothing there?" he asked, tone calm but edged faintly with skepticism. "Hidden world. Hidden army. It's convenient."
Windu's gaze did not waver.
"Master Kenobi went to Kamino and found an army," he replied evenly. "You will find one as well."
Kael exhaled lightly.
"Right," he said. "Of course."
For a moment, neither spoke. Starfighters screamed overhead, angling sharply into the sky before vanishing beyond the upper traffic lanes. The sound vibrated through the deck plates and into the bone.
Kael's eyes shifted briefly toward the ship Windu would soon board.
"Try to survive until I get there," he said, voice lower now, less sardonic. "I'd hate to go through a future war without you reminding me to be more… Jedi."
The faintest flicker of something unreadable passed through Windu's expression.
"You will have no shortage of reminders," he said calmly. "Concerning your conduct."
Kael's mouth curved faintly.
"Reassuring."
Another fighter launched, heat rippling across the air.
Windu's posture straightened almost imperceptibly.
"May the Force be with you," he said.
There was a pause — subtle, but intentional.
"My former Padawan."
The words settled with more weight than any formal address.
Kael met his gaze without flinching.
"And may the Force be with you as well, Master."
No sarcasm.
No deflection.
Only respect.
Windu gave a single nod before turning toward his own waiting craft, robes shifting with the movement as he ascended its ramp without looking back.
Yoda had already begun moving toward the T-6.
"Time, we waste," he murmured lightly.
Kael extended his hand once more; the durasteel chest glided ahead of him up the shuttle ramp as if pulled by an invisible current. R2-X9 let out a final confirming chirp as its interface probe retracted, dome swiveling to follow its master inside.
The T-6's interior was spacious compared to a starfighter cockpit — broad aisle, reinforced bulkheads, seating along the walls designed for extended travel rather than immediate combat. Overhead panels emitted a steady, neutral glow, illuminating the chamber in practical light.
Kael stepped across the threshold last.
The ramp began to rise.
Outside, the hangar's vastness shrank behind closing doors. The roar of departing starfighters dulled into a distant echo as the ramp sealed with a solid mechanical thud.
Within the shuttle, the hum of the hyperdrive core awakened, low and resonant.
War was already flying toward Geonosis.
And Kael Vizsla was flying somewhere no one had spoken of in generations.
The ramp sealed with a muted thud, and the T-6's interior settled into its own steady rhythm.
The hum of the hyperdrive core deepened beneath the deck plating, not yet engaged but awake — a restrained pulse that resonated through the spacious hold like a distant heartbeat. The main cabin stretched wide and curved, semicircular walls lined with recessed compartments and fold-down seating designed for long journeys rather than immediate combat. A retractable conference table rested flush against the floor at the center, its surface capable of projecting holomaps or serving as a training platform. Overhead panels cast an even, white glow that erased harsh shadow, revealing the shuttle's clean lines and reinforced bulkheads.
It felt different from a starfighter.
Less of a weapon.
More of a vessel.
Kael stepped fully into the hold and lowered his hand.
The durasteel chest drifted down gently and settled against the starboard wall with a soft metallic weight. The sound carried in the enclosed space — subtle, but final.
R2-X9 rolled briskly past him toward the forward interface panel, dome swiveling in tight, efficient arcs. A series of sharp beeps echoed as the astromech extended its probe into the access port, lights along its dome flickering in sequence.
"Begin pre-flight diagnostics," Kael said evenly as he unfastened the outer clasp of his robe at the collar, loosening it slightly. "Run full system checks. Then input the coordinates transmitted from the Temple."
R2-X9 responded with a crisp acknowledgment tone, then a more complex string of electronic chatter as data began to stream across the shuttle's internal displays. A faint projection flickered above the central console, star charts resolving into view — most of them familiar, one sector grayed out and marked with newly added vectors.
Yoda had taken a seat upon one of the fold-down benches, cane resting across his lap. His small frame seemed almost swallowed by the proportions of the shuttle's interior, though his presence remained anything but diminished. Brown eyes moved slowly from Kael to the chest now resting against the wall.
"Carry much with you, you do," Yoda observed quietly.
It was not an accusation.
It was recognition.
Kael glanced at the chest without embarrassment.
"Habit," he replied. "And preference."
Yoda's ears angled outward slightly.
"Hard to release early roots, it is."
Kael's jaw shifted faintly, but he did not deny it.
"It's hard to forget something you were raised with," he said after a moment. "Armor, discipline… preparedness. Those don't vanish because you change robes."
He walked closer to the chest, resting his hand briefly against its cool durasteel surface.
"Not that I don't trust the Grand Master," he added evenly, turning his gaze back toward Yoda, "but if something does go wrong, I'd rather be properly equipped than philosophical."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Yoda's features.
"Preparedness and fear are not the same," he said softly.
"I'm aware," Kael answered.
The astromech emitted a louder series of beeps, the dome rotating toward Kael as a new projection shimmered above the central console.
Coordinates locked.
Projected route displayed.
Estimated travel duration scrolling in Aurebesh.
Kael crossed to the display and scanned it quickly.
Several days.
He let out a slow breath.
"Of course it is," he muttered under his breath.
The galaxy had chosen to be inconveniently vast at precisely the wrong moment.
"Hidden worlds rarely neighbor Coruscant," Yoda replied, as though reading the thought directly.
Kael gave a faint huff of acknowledgment.
Through the forward canopy, the hangar remained visible — a bright expanse of polished deck and open sky beyond. Only a handful of starfighters remained now, their pilots completing final checks before departure. The Temple loomed beyond the hangar walls, ancient and composed, even as its warriors scattered toward war.
R2-X9 retracted its interface probe with a sharp click and rolled toward the forward cockpit access, dome swiveling expectantly.
"All systems green," Kael translated absently. "Pre-flight checks complete."
He straightened slightly, the faint fatigue of earlier sarcasm replaced now by focus.
"I'll take us up," he said, moving toward the cockpit.
The forward section of the T-6 was elevated slightly from the main hold, accessed by two shallow steps. The cockpit itself was broad compared to a starfighter's cramped canopy — two primary seats positioned before a sweeping transparisteel viewport that offered an unobstructed view of the hangar and the sky beyond. Control panels curved inward around the pilot's station, illuminated softly as systems powered fully online.
Kael lowered himself into the pilot's seat, fingers brushing across the console as muscle memory awakened. The rotating cockpit module shifted slightly, aligning precisely with the shuttle's forward orientation.
Behind him, Yoda remained seated in the main hold, silent, listening.
Outside, another Jedi starfighter lifted from the deck and streaked upward, engines blazing white.
Kael rested his hands lightly on the controls.
Kamino.
An army.
Several days in hyperspace with the Grand Master of the Order.
He allowed himself one final glance toward the Temple beyond the hangar doors.
Then his attention returned to the instruments before him.
"R2," he said quietly, "stand by."
The shuttle's engines deepened in pitch as power distribution shifted.
War had taken one path.
He was about to take another.