To Court a Stranger

Posted on Wed Jan 29th, 2014 @ 11:34pm by Thane & Morgo Le'Shaad & Thurius & Egon Jotunnson II

3,611 words; about a 18 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: High Council Chamber, Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Timeline: Pre-Mission

“Greetings.”

The words themselves, though simple, held a weight to them. The man speaking them, solemn faced with dark hair shot through with silver, was aged yet unbowed. He looked no older than a man in his mid-forties, though in fact it was known the Egon Jotunnson II, the Grandsire of Dromache, had just celebrated his 60th name day the past month. Such was the blessings of those of his ancestry.

“Today I come before you to address a grave and troubling matter that affects us all—we the Republic.”

And shifting slightly, the Grandsire’s armor glinted a fallow gold in the light, his voice smooth and arresting—an orator’s voice. A king’s voice.

“It is a fact of the universe that there will always be criminals amongst us, those that hold the law in contempt and will always do so, thinking that their own liberty allows them to abuse and bend the law to their desires.”

The Grandsire’s lips twitched at that, his deep blue eyes amused, merry lights dancing in them for just one moment, “They are wrong, of course. But it never seems to stop them, now does it?”

It is just a minute slip in decorum, a deliberate casting aside of the rigid lines that separate the man from the people he addresses, but it is enough to no doubt enough to coax a chuckle from those open to it. But all that fell away as the Grandsire resumed his poise.

“And so the task of keeping these criminals in line falls to us, the law-abiders of the Republic, to punish and correct these few. These wretched few. But what happens when these criminals resists? Striking back against the order that we of the galaxy have striven to uphold?”

Steel entered the Grandsire’s gaze, hardening with an unspoken menace, “Anarchy happens, my friends. Pure, chaotic, anarchy. Which is why I draw your attention to this.”

With a flick of his fingers, a picture materialized on the screen—a clear image of a woman, her dark gold hair done in a simple ponytail that gathered at the nape her neck and unfurled down her back. With heavy bangs that reached her lashes, it gave the impression that she was slyly gazing out from beneath a veil. Dark lips painted a wine red, her lower lash line subtly darkened with a powder pigment, her pale eyes almost feline-like in their lazy appraisal, the woman looked decidedly sinister and beguiling all at once. Pretty from afar, but far from pretty.

“Morgo Le’Shaad, fugitive at large.” The Grandsire announced grimly, “Murderess, thief, and suspected crime syndicate ringleader—this woman is at the top of Dromache’s most wanted list, and for good reason. As part of House Le’Shaad, Morgo is a part of one of the most nefarious family’s on Dromache. Found guilty 9 months ago of the murder of her step-father, Markus Fen, Morgo Le’Shaad was condemned to life in prison on Cassiopeia, Dromache’s maximum security prison moon, where she managed to escape.”

And though the Grandsire’s face remained as professional as ever, there was a subtle shift in his eyes, something like silent fury flashing behind the blue of them.

“As a dangerous criminal of the most wretched kind, Morgo Le’Shaad has evaded capture for nearly a year through the use of aliases, blatant bribery, and the aid of others. And this is unacceptable.”

His voice did not raise, nor did it inflect. But it was undeniably infused with an iron-edged anger, all the more terrible for its deadly quiet.

“Morgo Le’Shaad must be returned to us to be brought to justice for the crimes she has committed. And to facilitate her capture and arrest, I have dispatched a bounty hunter from Dromache, who I am certain will bring a swift close to this problem. And I am hereby raising Morgo Le’Shaad’s bounty to 1.5 million credits.”

A wry and twisted smile playing in the man’s lips, the golden king continued, undaunted by the amount of credits he’d just promised to whomever managed to capture that devil of a woman, “And to those of you sitting there chuckling to yourselves, whispering to your neighbor of how desperate I seem to be…”

Egon paused, nodding to every being out there, watching him, “…Yes. I am desperate.” He declared, strong, without a hitch, unashamed in his admission, “Desperate to let it be known to those who would forget it that those that break the law of Dromache will pay for it. And to that end I leave you now with a final address to the man named Thane of House Verus, hailing from the planet Caanus.”

Turning now to face another camera, the vantage point of the broadcast smoothly shifted. What was once a face-to-face view of the Grandsire from the waist up, the normal stance for a formal address became wider shot of the man, revealing Egon to be seated at a table. From the camera view, it was not unlike what one would see if one were seated at the Grandsire’s side, like an equal.

Leaning forward, the Grandsire’s voice held an edge, but stayed from the point of being accusing.

“If what my informants say is untrue about you and the criminal Morgo Le’Shaad, then I invite you to ignore this. But if it is true, then I bid you listen to what I have to say.”

Egon’s eyes shifted, becoming those of a man who spoke freely to another man, no longer a Grandsire. And as if reflecting that, his voice lowered.

“You’ve left the Jedi Order, for reasons that are your own. Yet I still sense that you are a man of principle—perhaps not of the galaxy’s, but of your own. If there is honor yet it you that I know runs strong in the people of your world, then I ask you reconsider what you are doing in sheltering Morgo Le’Shaad.”

Breaking eye contact, Egon looked to the side, expression distant as he spoke, “I have known her since she was a little girl, so believe me when I say I know her.”

“If you aid her out of love, platonic or otherwise, know then that a creature like Morgo cannot love in return—she can neither feel it nor understand such a thing. It is dead for her.”

“If you aid her because she has promised you monetary recompense for such services, know then that on Dromache you will receive much more for turning her into us. Yet I doubt this is what drives you. As heir to House Verus, I doubt you will want for much in life.”

Egon allowed himself a small smile as one noble to another who understood. But he quickly sobered.

“But if you aid Morgo because of some notion you have of securing her as an ally of sorts,” Egon’s expression became a strange mix between disapproving and concerned, three lines appearing between his thick brows, peppered with gray, “Then know that Morgo has no allies, no true allies, that can trust her and be trusted in return. You are a capable warrior, Verus of Caanus, yet it does not take a blade to cut a man down. She will betray you when you are of no more use to her.”

And sighing quietly, Egon ran a thumb across his furrowed brow, smoothing the lines away, “Such is the nature of the Le’Shaad. Docile for a time. Obedient when appropriate. Yet ultimately treacherous.”

Blue eyes cutting a line to the viewer, piercing, unyielding and seemingly fathomless, Egon’s parting words were quiet and solemn.

“Think on it, Thane of Caanus. I trust you will make the decision you see wisest.”

And with that the broadcast ended, the image of Dromache’s Grandsire and Grand Scholar fading to black.

A silence had fallen over the Jedi High Council Chamber, the full assembly of Masters having viewed the public transmission with a mixture of grim trepidation, agreement, and - in some cases - disdain. The disdain, of course, was not for the Grandsire, but for the reason they had specifically viewed the message: the mention of Thane.

Since departing Coruscant on the Red Raptor on the mission to seek out the Kaiburr shards and defeat Axion, following his resignation from the Reborn Jedi Order, the Council had made arrangements for any mention of Thane, Bomoor Thort or their companions in the media to be relayed to them. It had not been primarily out of concern for their objective, but rather to keep track of an individual they had grown greatly suspicious of.

"We should have apprehended him when he was before us!" Master Morla Dero rattled aggressively, elongated pale neck shaking, her frail and decrepit Kaminoan frame betraying her near-centennial age. Her tone was decisive, and in a manner that suggested she knew the correct course of action from the beginning but had been ignored - a manner that had not endeared her to many over the years.

Whilst unreadable to those not familiar with Selkath, Master Sotah's expression shifted to one of deeper concern at his comrade's words and quick judgement of his former apprentice. "This information is not new to us," he said, his eyes wandering from each of his fellows to the next. "We made a decision not to inform the authorities of the truth of the allegations, nor to arrest him at the time. This changes nothing."

It was Ven Kel Farr that spoke next, and more hurriedly than was the norm for the battle-scarred warrior-poet. "I simply cannot believe that to be true," he said, although his voice was heavy with resignation and remorse. Sighing, he continued, "We relented on having one of our own shadow the Red Raptor on their journeys at the behest of Masters Sotah and Thurius in particular; we sought not to hamper their quest nor to have Bomoor doubt our trust in him. However-"

"However," Grand Master Quellus now declared, his voice firm as he sat forward in his throne, "not only must we consider what sort of influence this Le'Shaad Dromachean will have upon Thane - and by extension, Bomoor - we must also consider public opinion."

As that comment was made, varying reactions were seen from the Council members. Some were murmurs of approval or nods, whilst others seemed slightly bothered or indifferent.

"I agree entirely," spoke Gira Veldryl, brushing aside a few strands of her silvery-white hair, "We are the peacekeepers of the Republic. While Thane chose to leave the order, his training here still means he is a Jedi in the eyes of many. We hold a responsibility to reprimand him for any actions that would besmirch the recognition that title holds. How do we hope to hold back the growing darkness if people see us as the cause?"

The reference to the Dark side unsettled a number of the members. While opinion was divided on the source of the dark power, all the members now had some sense of its approach. A shadowy enemy to rival their power of the Light.

Master Vemrus clenched the muscles in his face in a silent agony as he was once again thrown forward into that premonition, "It laughs... at our ignorance... our foolish security. It will infect our source of power before..."

The Iktotchi opened his eyes with a sudden jolt, "...stripping it away."

Master Olus stood from her seat and went to Vemrus' side, placing a hand on his still-shaking body. Her healing aura quickly slowed his heartbeat and calmed his mind, "None of us can deny a threat," she spoke, "We have all experienced this sensation of dread but we cannot act on our emotions. If we lash out at Thane in ignorance, then we could very well make things worse."

"Much of what we are perceiving is borne out of facts and figures," Master Nillak now said, his Quarren physiology grating out the words in surprisingly coherent Basic. "The public's view of us is grim and the Senate's support has become lacking. Many worlds refuse to let their Force sensitive youths be inducted into the Order and our funding is so frequently the target during political debates."

"A sad reality," Sotah added with a hint of anguish in his voice. "Whilst none doubt the friendship of Supreme Chancellor Paralles to the Jedi Order, many factions are forming within the Senate against him."

Leaning forward and bringing his hands together, Master Farr gave a knowing nod as he looked to his Selkath compatriot. "You speak of this 'Centrality', do you not?"

"Conservatives and fear-mongers!" Quellus then declared loudly, his jaw setting firmly. "They seek to do nothing more than cause further rifts within the Republic, and I have the assurances of many senators that they are of no threat. The supreme chancellor has the situation perfectly in hand; it is he who has steered the Republic through this increasingly dark times. Without him, matters could be far worse." His intense eyes now wandered about the room, glaring at each of his fellow High Council members. "Be thankful it is he at the centre of the Senate, and put aside these notions. There is no threat to him."

"There is no denying Master Nillak's point, however," Farr replied softly, his voice a stark contrast to that of the outspoken Chagrian. "Our members are dwindling - our support amongst the public fading."

At that, Quellus could do nothing but nod in agreement. "It is so," he said simply, "and so we must not let matters such as Thane get away from us. If it is seen that we are unable to control but one rogue element from our ranks - an element that has also taken it upon himself to impart his broken ideals upon another Force sensitive - then how can we ever be expected to be trusted with greater matters?"

There were murmurs of approval from some of the Council, resulting in the slightest of downplayed grim smirks from the grand master, apparently pleased at the direction he had restored them to, even if some less agreeable elements remained opposed inwardly. His eyes flicked to where Masters Sotah and Thurius sat, the pair always together.

"Whilst the Reborn Jedi Order stands as a pillar of Third Republic society, justice and civility, we are not legislators," he went on firmly, now rising. "We shall speak no more of Supreme Chancellor Paralles' position, but instead look inwards to handling this matter. With your approval, I believe it is time we sent Jedi Shadow Loren to pursue the Red Raptor."

For a few seconds, a silence lingered amongst the Jedi Masters, thoughts abound but nothing said, until Sotah gave a glance to Thurius before raising his head and saying, "Pursue, but not engage." As expected, Quellus' dark gaze fell upon the Selkath, who then added, "Master Olus is right in that if we lash out at Thane in ignorance, we may make matters worse. We are not yet in full possession of the facts."

"Your concern for your former apprentice - 'though which you may be holding dearest in your heart currently is lost upon me - is touching but known," Quellus said in a low voice. Even so, he raised up his hands to the Council, his red finery appearing more elegant in the light of the setting Coruscant sun beyond. "Then what is the consensus of this Council? There is no doubt in my mind as to the risk Thane currently poses. However, I ask you now to all assess his potential threat. Does this Council now vote to apprehend Thane, or to have him shadowed?"

Always the voice of diplomacy, the Mon Calamari Master Thackbal spoke up, "If I may say so, before we vote on this matter; this situation will affect the Republic on a grand scale. There is a time and place for trust and leniency, but we have made our stance very clear to the people: We are the guardians of peace and when something is recognised as a threat to that peace, we are obligated to take action. While I myself have been fond of the Jedi Thane and Bomoor, I believe this is where we must make a firm decision on their status. Are they a threat to the light or are they not?"

"Now hold on!" responded Master Thurius, half standing from his seat, "We cannot simply turn our backs on Bomoor and Thane. As we have already discussed, we have a certain responsibility..."

"Indeed we have discussed it," Thackbal interrupted, "We are all well informed of what is at stake. Your opinion will not be dismissed, hence our vote on this matter."

Sotah looked to Master Asha, the thus far silent member of the Jedi Council, but one whom he had long counted as a wise friend and ally within the group - something he was certain was a dwindling number amongst not only his fellow Council members, but the Reborn Order as a whole. Although still a believer in the sanctity of what the Jedi stood for, looking about and listening to them now only convinced him of a very different darkness growing from the one they had spoken so ardently of in recent sessions.

The aged woman bowed her head in thought, the setting sun on the horizon bathing her face in warm light, momentarily erasing the many lines on her face. And for a moment Asha looked like she was once again the strong, young Jedi woman she had been all these years. It ached within her that the Jedi Order was now discussing the fate of Thane, an individual she had had the privilege to see grow into the man he was today. That things had come this spoke of failure on all their parts. Yet as an Order, they were now responsible for what would become of him. What they decided today would affect more than just the fate of one man.

Asha did not raise her had to speak, as she once did when she was a younger and less confident of her place in the Council. Her dark, fathomless eyes told of a wealth of experience, and they searched her fellow Council members as she spoke, voice warm and clear as it had always been.

"We have put our trust in Thane to seek out and deal with the darkness of Axion's cult. When we sent him and Bomoor into the galaxy, when had faith in him. We do ourselves a disfavor to doubt him now. If we cannot trust our own decisions and send forces to apprehend him, what message does that send to those who have trusted their children with us? 'Can they not even teach their pupils properly that they must send out nannies to bring him back and slap him on the wrist?', they will ask."

Asha sighed as she briefly looked at Master Sotah, "Thane is in the media spotlight now, and we cannot undo this misfortune. The way we deal with him now must reflect this situation. Until we have more facts, apprehending Thane will do us more harm than good. We will look divided and incompetent. Sending Loren to assess Thane's allegiances is our best option. Only then will we know if Thane is truly a threat... and deal with him with the appropriate severity."

Morla Dero's fading milky eyes narrowed as much as they could at the elderly Human's words, the Kaminoan now craning her neck away from the other woman. "Severity being the operative word," she huffed. "I say we call this menace and that stolen ship of theirs back to Coruscant to face renewed judgement. Part of leadership is knowing when a mistake has been made by one's self," she went on, now looking from Thurius to Sotah, "and then amending it."

"Whilst I trust in your wisdom," Hale Dunrar now spoke, his Neimoidian lilt contrasting against Dero's aggressive rattling, "I am afraid I find myself agreeing with Master Asha. Thane is indeed in the media spotlight, and we must now handle this delicately yet decisively, with the full facts in hand. Any misdemeanour on our part will be far more dangerous than any Thane may or may have committed." His horizontally-split red eyes blinked in quick succession as he nodded with support to Sotah and Thurius.

Although slightly disgruntled at Dunrar's support for the more temperate option, Quellus gave a slow nod of his own to the former Jedi Ace and once-poster boy during the Second Outer Rim Conflict. A man who so often fell in line with the Grand Master's declarations and decisions, the Chagrian knew then where opinion was swaying with his council.

Letting out a heavy sigh coupled with a firm grimace, Quellus reclaimed his seat, resting his large hands upon either side in his all-too-familiar foreboding posture of authority. "With all previous complaints and concerns voiced taken into consideration, has this Council any further objections to the decision of dispatching Jedi Shadow Loren in the wake of the Red Raptor?"

After a prolonged and uncomfortable silence in which Quellus inwardly willed his compatriots to rush to Master Dero's banner, he raised his hand ever so slightly in resignation. "Then this Council has made its decision... May the Force be with us."

RSS Feed