Chapter Thirty-Eight

It was unusual for Jedi Master Saesee Tiin to be in control of so many Jedi. He had earned a reputation as a calm voice of reason even during his short stay on the Jedi council, and his previous missions had always--or as much as he could--ended peacefully.

He understood the value of martial prowess, but in truth that path had always made him uncomfortable. Taking a life sent ripples through the Force that left him disquiet. Bringing peace and joy, however, always gladdened his heart.

Fortunately, he wasn’t alone on this mission. He had Jedi Master Coleman Trebor with him, a master of equal renown and great talent, and one who was, in Master Tiin’s own opinion, better suited to conflict of this sort than he himself was.

That was... if this was to be a violent sort of conflict.

The Jedi Master sat cross legged in his private quarters onboard a Consular-class cruiser, one of three being sent on this mission. They needed them for the twenty-two Jedi heading to Antar IV from Coruscant.

So many Jedi on one mission, one where they had received only a small request for assistance from the system’s senator.

He wiped away his growing frown, closed his eyes, and sank into the force.

Sending this many Jedi out on a single mission was hardly unheard of. Sending this many when there seemed to be so little need for them on the surface, however, was strange. But it nonetheless felt right.

There was a deep, thrumming warning in the force, and when Master Tiin first meditated upon his mission several weeks ago, he had asked for some assistance. Grandmaster Yoda had suggested Master Trebor, who had agreed to come.

Master Windu had insisted on the other twenty Jedi.

Half of them were knights, the other half their padawan, so it wasn’t as if Master Tiin was heading out with an army, exactly, but it was a much greater response than logic dictated they needed. And yet, as he sank deeper into the Force, he couldn’t help but feel like perhaps twenty-two wasn’t sufficient.

---

Taylor drank deeply from a metal flask of simple, cool water. She filled her mouth one last time, lowered the flask, then swallowed it all in one big gulp that ended with a happy exhale.

She had never appreciated water this much before Tatooine. Now it was a simple pleasure. She was forgetting the rigours of the desert planet already, but every time she drank, it reminded her a little of that dustball.

She never wanted to go back.

Antar IV, which was quickly approaching past the viewport, was a much nicer world, and she was actually looking forward to visiting, even if she was a little nervous about it.

Asajj was in the Atlas as well, on the opposite end of the ship, sitting cross-legged in the engineering compartment and presumably meditating. Taylor was keeping a thousand bug eyes on her, mostly because she had a few terrariums in that room which didn’t seem to bother Asajj much.

HK-47 was tinkering with something in the workshop, the occasional welder flash going off, and the rest of her crew were either busy piloting the ship, or simply relaxing.

She wasn’t so relaxed herself. There were, to use a rather silly idiom, butterflies in her stomach, and she didn’t quite know why. This wasn’t her first interesting situation, yet she still felt inexplicably nervous.

She checked her gear one more time, just in case.

Holdout blaster? Loaded with a fresh battery pack and cleaned up nicely.

Primary blaster? Likewise ready.

Lightsaber? Hanging from a quick-release on her hip. Similar to how Asajj had her own sabers.

Her little communication device was buckled to her belt too.

Taylor had discovered that one set of those Mandalorian boots actually fit her if she was willing to wear some slightly-thicker socks. The rest would still need to be tailored if she ever wanted to use it, though one pair of gloves was also a decent fit.

Better than no armour, but not ideal.

She really had to find someone to help with that Beskar. She pushed it up on her already long todo list.

The Atlas hit some turbulence, and she looked up to see that they were already pushing through the planet’s atmosphere.

Ships moved so quickly that it legitimately boggled her mind sometimes. She saw a large metropolis below, then they were pushing past skyscrapers on their way to the city’s main spaceport.

As the ship turned around and started to come in for a landing, Taylor left her room. She stopped herself from checking her gear one more time. There was no point to it.

Instead, she walked over to the exit door, not too far from the workshop, and waited for them to touch down. A whistle from behind had to half turning to see Tattletale rolling closer. She supposed they didn’t need to astromech now that they were planetside. “Any news from the Jedi?” she asked.

The droid beeped and booped. It sounded more or less like a negative.

Taylor nodded. She had to coach things in yes-or-no questions. “Are they on-planet already?”

A negative warble.

“Will they be coming soon?” she asked.

A positive chirrup.

“How soon? A day? No? Less? Alright. Twelve hours? Six? Three? Two? Ah, so between two and three hours. That’s... not very much time at all.” She shrugged. Their timing was really nice. If she left the Atlas now she might make it to the jedi just as they were leaving their ship. Or ships, as the case may be. That wouldn’t quite be an ambush, they'd have a numerical advantage, but it would also put her in a position where she could run if things went south.

And it might give them the impression that she was more prepared than she was. Which might prove somewhat useful, because at the moment, she wasn’t feeling nearly prepared enough.

“HK-47,” she called out. “Are you almost ready to go? We’re taking some of the B1s with us.”

The droid stood up from the workbench he was on and turned towards her. Behind him, were their battledroids, all of them standing at robotic attention, ready to go. Some would stay behind of course, to guard the Atlas. In fact... maybe she’d only bring a dozen, in order not to be too intimidating. “Request: One moment, master. I have something to give you.”

“You have something to give me?” Taylor repeated. She fell back onto her heels. “Alright. What is it?”

“Explanation: It wouldn’t do for someone with the title of Darth to meet a Jedi without wearing the appropriate form of dress. But, lacking access to a proper cloak and traditional garb, I have found this in the ship’s stores. It’s an emergency weather-proof article of clothing.”

The droid reached over to the counter of their workshop and grabbed a folded pile of clothes, handing it to her.

She unfurled it, revealing... “This is a poncho,” she said. It was yellow. A bright, almost eye-searing yellow. It was made of a faintly reflective material, with a built-in hood. At least the hood was black.

“Affirmative: It is, master. And it will disguise your missing arm and your choice of weapons from sight.”

That... wasn’t a bad point, actually. “Alright,” Taylor said as she slipped the poncho on. It was fairly comfortable, the end stopping at mid-thigh, and she could hide all sorts of bugs in there. “It won’t hide my face, though.” She undid her belt, holster belt and tied it back on top of the poncho. It looked... decent enough, she supposed.

It was hard to tell. Fashion was strange.

HK-47 didn’t have a face to emote with, but Taylor still sensed his amusement. “Negation: It will not. However, this will.”

The droid picked up another item from the workstation.

She’d seen him making this through her bugs, but had thought it was a replacement part of some sort. Or a blank piece to show someone once they found someone capable of working with that Beskar they’d found.

The item was a mask, with two visored slits and an angular faceplate with a protruding chin. It was all blackened metal, with a few highlights in red and yellow. The same paint they had used on her battledroids. “Huh. Thank you, HK-47.” She wouldn’t have thought the mask looked good, but something about it felt right.

She looked inside it, figured out the straps at a glance, and noted that there was room within for a half-mask, and maybe some fancy HUD stuff, if they ever had the time to improve on the design.

“Welcome: No need for thanks, master. I have a smaller, half-mask that the Dathomirian can use as well.”

Taylor grinned as she fit the mask on. “Do you have another one of those ponchos?” she asked.

“Amused affirmation: Yes master, I do.”

“Well, I’m sure yellow is Asajj’s colour. It’ll make her look like a proper... sidekick.”

Maybe Taylor shouldn’t have been feeling so amused. She might need Asajj’s help if things went crooked.

Soon enough, that kernel of worry was buried under a mountain of amusement as Asajj looked at the outfit they’d picked out for them. She grumbled, spat, and made a fuss, but she wore it all the same.

And then they were off, off to wait next to the landing pad that Tattletale had discovered the Jedi would be using.

She was looking forward to this meeting. Hopefully it would be productive.