Engines of Heaven: High Promise
Posted on Mon Jan 20th, 2020 @ 1:10am by Thane & Bomoor Thort
Edited on on Wed Jun 8th, 2022 @ 2:03pm
2,948 words; about a 15 minute read
Chapter:
Additional Stories
Location: JSD Great Manifest (Boundary of the Nea Glarist Blockade, Yutani System, High Promise Sector, Mid Rim
Timeline: Some weeks after "The Great Work"
This post takes place in 1,213 ABY, around four years before Thane and Bomoor encountered the Cult of Axion on Nar Shaddaa, during their earliest years as Jedi Knights.
"Beware of practising your righteousness before sentients to be noticed by them, otherwise you have no reward within your Mother's Glare. So when you give to the poor, do not sound a blissl before you, as the Renunciates and Jedi do in the temples and Their Republic, so that they may be honoured by Rimmers. Truly, She says to us, that is all the reward they ever reap. But when you give to the poor, do not let your left limb know what your right limb is doing, so that your giving will be in secret; and your Mother's Glare will discover what is done in secret, and will reward you eternally."
Seripture: Centax Revised Edition
— Gallapraxis 5:1-4Peace shall overcome emotion.
Jedi Master Hale Dunrar was the embodiment of the first line of the Code of the Reborn Jedi Order, as he allowed the remarkable peace of the endless starfield visible at nearly every angle before him to penetrate every fibre of his being within the Force. As never changed, the Neimoidian was struck by the physical void he blindly peered into with his mundane eyes, even as his supernatural senses belied the true chaotic, life-filled nature of the existence he was beholding, an intricate web that he was innately connected to on cellular, corporeal and spiritual levels.
Dunrar felt most at ease in space. His connection here to the Force felt keener and intransient, unimpeded by the beings and objects that cluttered worlds and their countries and buildings. A self-professed and committed altruist and lover of people, he nevertheless enjoyed the company of himself within the Force, satisfied to explore the currents of existence without the noise and distraction of his fellow sentients and life.
As his nictitating membranes flickered across his bulbous crimson eyes, the green-skinned Jedi Master could not help but find his senses unable to divert away from the nearest glowing ball of Force energy, being a terrible but vibrant calamity of conflict and ideology. It was typical for any populated world with advanced civilisations. Groups of individuals were always destined to contrast and conflict, and it would resolve itself in one manner or another. Often, it required the judicious application of well-reasoned and emphatic diplomacy - the forte of the middle-aged Jedi and his fellow Knights of the Reborn Order - but it was not always possible, nor necessary, for Jedi to mediate every such conflict in the galaxy.
There were special exceptions, of course, when matters required a more considered hand, or the attentive efforts of a schooled and experienced diplomat. A life spent serving the will of the Force and the well-being of the galaxy's denizens lent itself well to such occasions. A veteran of the Second Outer Rim Conflict, an experienced pilot and celebrated ambassador for the Jedi High Council, Hale Dunrar was a sensible choice for any political crisis.
Ord Yutani was not any standard political crisis, though.
Master Dunrar had requested the starboard observation lounge be lent to him during his time stationed aboard the ageing Centax-class Judicial Forces Star Defender Great Manifest. Given the far-orbital position taken by the sole Star Destroyer-level vessel employed by the Third Republic to tackle the Blockade of Ord Yutani, Dunrar had no view of the opposition's vessels, or even the planet and its satellites. Due to the nature of the assignment, this suited him perfectly.
His relative position within the Manifest did nothing to affect his senses, of course. As he registered the arrival of another of the vessel's guests, Dunrar concluded his open-eye meditation and rose from his kneeling position. Garbed in the simple beige tunic, obi and trousers of his Jedi office, he did not don his darker outer robe to make his journey to the bridge.
When he arrived, he was greeted in various fashions by the mixed-species staff of the Manifest's command centre. Some were particularly enthused by his presence, whilst others seemed either indifferent or irked by it. He had grown accustomed to such things, even if it occasionally saddened the Jedi Master. The Outer Rim Conflict had taken its toll on many people in many ways, and the echoes of that war were still being heard to this day. For a good number of sentients, he recognised, the war had not really ended with the Belsmuth-Quelli Treaty; it had simply taken another form, one that did not currently involve blasters, lightsabers and space warfare.
With his wrinkled hands finding another within the sleeves of his tunic, he walked dolefully along the literal bridge that halved the command centre vertically. Within the trenches either side, navy blue-clad officers and crew worked dutifully at their consoles, most frequently interfacing with their colleagues on the other Judicial frigates operating in tandem with the command cruiser. At the end of his path stood a hulking figure, far outsizing any of the multitude of species that made up the Great Manifest's diverse crew.
At the helm of the ship, in conversation with one of the bridge crew, whom he towered over was the dark, rounded figure of the Herglic Admiral Broolf-Swial, his oily black folds around his wide chinless head seemingly overflowing from his tight blue uniform. As Dunrar approached, the crew member made the Admiral aware, resulting in him turning with a raised brow towards the approaching Jedi. Although he many dark folds in his skin made it hard to tell the Herglic's age, he carried a rough scar across his otherwise smooth left cheek that was a reminder of his many tours of duty for the Judicial Forces, the most recent being his first command position in the latest Outer Rim conflict.
"The senator has returned from his own endeavours?" The Neimoidian opened to the fleet's commander, his voice much more softly-accented than was common to his kind. He drew himself himself up to stand beside Broolf-Swial, although he cut a far less imposing figure next to the flag officer, and joined the admiral in observing the troublesome planet causing them such grief beyond.
Ringed around it and positioned at various junctures were a selection of vessels, ranging in size, origins and firepower. Although Dunrar could identify nearly all of their classes and capabilities from simply looking them over, he was still amazed and intrigued at how such a sizeable local fighting force had developed to so effectively blockade Ord Yutani and the wider High Promise Sector. The agitant forces had ably taken control of the local sector's standing defence fleet and combined it with the forces from numerous supporters, both locally and from beyond. What was more impressive yet was that not a single mercenary was counted amongst their numbers.
Broolf-Swial dismissed the bridge officer wordlessly, turning his attention to his new Jedi guest aboard the bridge.
"Senator Mekhala," the Herglic emphasised the name just enough to display a hint of irritation, "Has told me he needs a moment alone in his quarters to collect his thoughts before reporting in. However, we already know that he has failed to convince his local counterpart and his Glarist brethren to budge at all on this blockade. I am sure he has only further eroded our position here, while we sit here watching them solidify their defences."
The larger man shuffled uncomfortably, causing his belt to squeak slightly and demonstrating the internal frustration that was already clear to the Jedi through his aura, "I know Mekhala was... disappointed that I requested Jedi involvement," Broolf-Swial continued, trying to remain diplomatic even if it was not his primary strength, "But, unlike some within the Republic, I still have great faith in the Order and its members. Whatever the senator reports, I think I am just about ready to turn negotiations over to you."
Master Dunrar allowed himself a glum smile, turning to his not-so-fair-weather friend just briefly, before looking back at the twinkling stars, ships and planet obscuring the abyss of space. "Politics within politics, layers overlapping," he half-mumbled. "Everyone has an agenda, Admiral, yet some have the fortune to have the courage of, and belief in, their convictions, such as these religious folk causing us such nuisance."
The Jedi's finely-tuned hearing drew his attention to the tail of the bridge, the arrival occurring sooner than expected. His red eyes fell upon the Koorivar diplomat appointed by the Senate for the purposes of managing the Blockade of Ord Yutani. The horned Humanoid was regally-garbed, his every feature and presentation attentively planned and considered, appearing every part the model politician. The physical appearance did not match the man within, however, as was plainly abundant to one gifted in the mysteries of the Force, as Hale Dunrar was.
"Senator Mekhala," Dunrar greeted the second newcomer with a traditional Jedi bow of his bald head. "You return from the surface with fine news, I presume; Senator Rakhesh has renounced his newfound faith and these priests have relinquished control and legal claims to the system?"
Sroo Mekhala swung his head between the Jedi and the Admiral, giving them both a brief nod, his prominent cranial horn amplifying the gesture, “Negotiations have been extremely challenging, Master Dunrar,” he announced in an exaggeratedly weary voice, “The religious aspect of this entire debate makes it hard to gain any ground. Rakhesh continues to spout the words of Contispex, who in turn speaks for their Goddess; how does one argue against something so ethereal?”
The man winced subtly, the strong creases around his facial features masking the expression slightly, “Not that I wish to disparage any religious beliefs, but we live in a democracy that does not take sides for any creed or culture. These so-called Nea Glarists have no legal basis to collect these ‘tithes’ from Republic citizens and these is nothing more to be said.”
“So, they offered no demands to you, Senator? Nothing to bargain with?” asked the Admiral, crossing his heavy arms.
“What? Besides demanding that we leave and allow them to continue bleeding this system dry? No,” the Koorivar scoffed then turned to Dunrar, “So I wouldn’t bother attempting any further negotiations yourself, Master Jedi. They want nothing from us and offer only veiled threats.”
Dunrar nodded solemnly at Mekhala's words, but he could not help but let a smug smile cause his lower jaw to jut out slightly, in parts amused at the senator's inevitable failure, and also at his predictable jibe towards the Jedi. "Perhaps it is you that has nothing to offer them, Senator," he said politely, angling his head slightly as he made the comment. However, he continued speaking before the Koorivar could respond, although his face already revealed his irritation at the comment, and actively stepped towards the admiral at the same time. "But I admit; we are confronted with a quandary of a situation. On the one hand, this new religious sect, led by a mysterious Human labelling himself the new Contispex (alarming in itself), has taken control of all local governance and trade and insists on enforcing this 'Tithe' against all those in sight. On the other, they have the unwavering support of the masses and an increasingly larger spacefaring force to reflect that."
The Jedi Master had raised each hand in turn as he gave his simplified explanation, although he did not grant the senator any eye contact. "Local worlds and sectors are well within their rights to set planetary economic policy, just as they may express their religious beliefs in any manner they so see fit. My friend the admiral will forgive me for saying this, but the Third Republic has not stood for centuries because of its fighting forces. It is the beliefs, the philosophies - the Grand Proclamation - that is the foundation of our great democracy, that permits so many divergent species and beliefs to co-exist so humbly and successfully."
Dunrar now turned to face beyond the viewscreen once more, his back turned to the senator. His wide eyes examined the planet and the fleet of ships poised around it. "In the aftermath of Stal and Kessar's rebellion, it is not surprising that self-perceived minorities seek to arm their ideologies in preparation for fallout with the Galactic Senate. What we cannot abide, however, is the risk that these Nea Glarists and their Goddess are not so benign as they claim. Already, they are willing to suffer the effects of their own blockade for their convictions; what else do the denizens of Ord Yutani suffer in the name of faith?"
The question was clearly rhetorical, and neither of Dunrar's colleagues felt the need to interrupt his ruminations, as he verbally explored the situation somewhat more. It was typical of the Jedi Master as, although he often found himself being spoken over in the Council chambers, he found it beneficial to orate these moral hurdles, especially when his company could assist, or even understand his position better. It also made him feel less lonely.
"I am not personally willing to commit the people of Ord Yutani to further needless suffering out of secular principle. We will not invade this world nor force the sector to capitulate to the Republic on the basis of taxes and tithes, nor ramblings of would-be crusades in an unknown future," he decided, apolitical as the judgement was, now turning back to the admiral and senator. Internally, he knew the Senate would not accept this, the pressure from the trading blocs and conglomerates too powerful; their failure to resolve the crisis positively for the Republic would result in High Promise becoming a pariah sector. There would be no external resources for Ord Yutani and the other worlds, and the people would suffer. Everything would be inspected, their civil rights entirely overlooked by a jealous political force, which would in turn culminate in one inevitable conclusion: an armed conflict, whereby the Nea Glarists would be hopelessly outmatched by a full Judicial fighting force, their world overrun and occupied.
Hale Dunrar did not want to see this world crushed by the hubris of a priest, nor the pride of an interstellar government. He still held out hope for a purely diplomatic resolution, but the situation appeared stacked against them. For all his faults, Senator Mekhala made a valid point: they wanted nothing but the withdrawal of the Republic, apparently.
"But we also cannot surrender the masses to an inquisition of madness," he then continued aloud. "It is impossible for us to go planetside and explore the cities, to confirm the welfare of the people, all assurances from Rakhesh and Contispex aside. But get an agent of the Republic to the world we must, to uncover the truth of this mystery religion, and ensure true mediation can prevail, free from biases and hollow promises."
Having been nodding along in agreement with their Jedi associate, the Admiral was quick to announce his support, "I have several trusted officers aboard that have some experience in special ops or, if you were thinking more along the lines of the Intelligence Agency..."
Dunrar shook his head. "No, whilst I have the greatest admiration for the Judicial forces, they are unskilled for this type of operation. If captured and interrogated, we would find ourselves undermined and more lives at risk. The less said about TRIO the better." An idea had begun growing in his mind in the moments immediately preceding this instant, taking shape and developing as Dunrar second-guessed himself and analysed the predicament. Straightforward diplomacy simply could not work. Senator Mekhala would cause a war with his failure, and Dunrar doubted he could make any more appropriate progress.
"I will lead the next mediation," he declared, offering Mekhala only the briefest of smiles, "but I will require assistance." He smile grew wider, his expression growing in confidence and now locked firmly on the admiral. "Jedi assistance."
"Master Jedi," Mekhala's voice crackled as if putting down a child's fantasy, "I must protest; not every matter can be solved simply by throwing more Jedi at it, talented though you are. I am sure the Admiral would rather..."
"I think it is a fine idea," Broolf-Swial raised an eyebrow conveying a knowing and trusting gaze towards the Jedi Master, "We can treat your original visit as a diplomatic courtesy. I am sure they will agree to a more formalised negotiation when they hear a Jedi will be part of the negotiations."
Shuffling over slightly as so to almost cut the senator out of the conversation, the Admiral's firm voice took on a quizzical note, "I am curious, however, what Jedi assistance you can acquire on such short notice out here in the Mid Rim."
By now, Dunrar had positioned himself even closer to the main viewscreen. He placed a pale green hand onto the artificial transparent barrier, as if the physical contact brought him that much closer to the universe outside. Normally, Admiral Broolf-Swial would be quite right. This far from the Core and the galaxy as wracked by internal conflicts as ever, it would typically be a tall order, but the Jedi Master was fortunate in that two knights were situated not far from the sector, their current assignment drawing near to its close. An amused smile pulled upwards at his lipless mouth. "In fact, Admiral, I have just the Jedi in mind..."
TBC
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