The Avalan Crisis: Trail of Smoke
Posted on Sat Feb 24th, 2018 @ 3:14pm by Thane & Bomoor Thort
Edited on on Wed Jun 8th, 2022 @ 2:00pm
3,732 words; about a 19 minute read
Chapter:
Additional Stories
Location: Onderon
Timeline: 1,208 ABY, After "Culpability"
OLD
He slowed his breathing and focussed on the first line of the Reborn Order’s code: ‘Peace shall overcome emotion’. However, as he did so, the face of the elderly Bivall he had seen and felt dying before him came into focus in his mind. He remembered the emotion he had felt as her life slipped away, even though he had met her only several minutes before. As he thought of this, he felt as though no amount of meditation or mental-blocking could subdue the deep grief many people had felt here today: that same grief Theon had come face-to-face with.
There is great darkness in this world that we can never escape from and, in some ways, it seemed better that we acknowledge that we feel rather than become detached. Because, right now, in this moment, peace was a lie.
NEW
Another instalment of The Avalan Crisis posts, chronicling the young Padawans, Thane and Bomoor Thort.
The sky was still dark and menacing as the two Jedi apprentices stepped out of the makeshift office GalactaWerks had “acquired” from a local business, hastily made redundant. Water stained the cracked stone ground and a musty scent of damp earth filled their senses as they descended the small steps.
It was dusk now and what light could breach the thick cloud was fast-diminishing as the sun fell behind the city wall of Iziz. A few lights had come on here and there; street-level lights marked out the roads, where still unbroken, but the surrounding buildings remained dark and empty.
An old wooden door slammed shut behind them, “Another infuriating and hasty exchange with GalactaWerks then,” Bomoor sighed, shaking his wide head in disapproval, “I wish I could believe that Theon will be treated fairly but I could hear it in their tone: to them, he is guilty as Sith. To think, they are the face of the Republic out here; the audacity of them to work in the name of a democracy.”
Bomoor stopped himself, realising that he was beginning to sound like one of the Avalans himself, “I suppose that is all the more reason to find proof that it was not a plot by the Rift Jedi.”
Thane nodded glumly in response to his friend as he drew to a stop alongside the Ithorian. Although dried, his hair had curled from the day's earlier downpour, whilst his robes remained damp and torn from the brief conflict with Theon. Having caught sight of himself in a window's reflection, the Human Padawan had remarked they could pass easily for a pair of Iziz's more downtrodden denizens, not that either presumed this would aid in their quest.
"Things are tense enough as they are," Thane agreed, before clarifying; "thirteen years isn't long for these sorts of wounds to heal." The words were not his, he knew, but rather an echo of Master Sotah when Thane had asked of the Second Outer Rim Conflict. "If we can't solve this - quickly - this is going to go much further than just Onderon."
Belying the enormity of the situation the pair now faced, Thane's tone was sombre. From what little he knew, had inferred and understood of the current political climate, a good number of the factions who had thrown their lot in with the Outer Rim Alliance, Onderon included, would need little encouragement to take up arms once more. Suspicion could all too easily fall upon the Republic, conspiracy theories abound in matters of galactic strife.
Looking to Bomoor, Thane was struggling to find the confidence that so usually underpinned his character. Try as he might to see this as merely another of their typical assignments that went awry (it was not unusual, after all, for a Padawan to be separated from his Master), he sensed there was nevertheless something off about what was transpiring.
There was also no denying this was not a Republic world - regardless of what the HoloNet tried to peddle to the masses.
Bomoor looked down at the scrap of paper he had made a note on while trying to gather information from the attending GalactaWerks officer, “Two photonic charge packs were stolen from their depot earlier today. Just one of those would be sufficient to cause the damage we witnessed. There may be another one out there in the hands of our terrorists, which is a concerning thought. If we assume this is an Avalan plot, then they could move explosives anywhere in the city, practically unnoticed.”
"Can their security truly be that bad?" Thane asked rhetorically, frowning. "Surely, what with the threat of terrorism abound and with GalactaWerks being the primary target, the 'Militia' would be doing more to protect their arms?" His voice, although not fully broken, had slipped into a light growl. Troubling in its own way as a realisation, the fight with Theon had been a far simpler affair for him.
The words took only a moment to sink in, spurring a thought to his mind's fore. "Perhaps," he began cautiously, the sounds of a bickering family carrying along from one of the nearby dwellings drawing his gaze away from Bomoor momentarily, "we should turn our gaze inwards. We can't ignore the fact that someone in GalactaWerks might have let this happen, whether it be a blind eye or planting it themselves. Not everyone is so... principled as Intendant Thendleton. Credits are credits, and Prince Garius isn't short a few."
Grimacing at his own suggestion, Thane let his hand brush across the hilt hanging from his waist. "And if that is the case," he continued, "we can't let them know we're aware of the second missing charge." He considered going back to the officer they had spoken to and 'amending' his recollection of events.
Troubling emotions bubbled up again as Bomoor considered the sort of person who would, not only work for a corrupt corporation that exploits the people it is supposed to protect, but also be willing to exploit their own position in that organisation to aid terrorists. He saw the difficulty in choosing sides when it came to the Outer Rim disputes, but to spit on all sides was a revolting act.
Within his left hand, Bomoor held the crystal he had received from the elderly Bival who had died in the first explosion. He clutched at it, hoping to calm his thoughts. He felt its smooth corners, worn down by time and the hands of many owners before reaching his own. A gift from a loyal servant of Onderon, murdered by those who claim to fight in the name of its people.
"If there are snakes in GalactaWerks as well then any enquiries we make around Iziz regarding the charge will quickly lead back to Garius. Perhaps the most direct course of action would be to inform the Queen. While I am sure news will quickly filter to the Avalans, the Queen might be able to rally the people now they have seen the devastation from the first detonation."
Thane merely returned his friend a long look, one punctuated by both weariness and wariness. Whilst Queen Omina had seemed a genuine character during their first, brief encounter, she was clearly no true friend to the Republic; her involvement with the Jedi seemed to be little more than a marriage of convenience – or perhaps something she was forced into as a result of the ongoing tenuous relationship between the various factions: GalactaWerks, Republic and Outer Rim Alliance.
Regardless, Thane and Bomoor, without their masters, support from the Rift Jedi or even GalactaWerks – who had made their opinion of the two padawans strikingly clear, despite the fact they had initially requested the Order’s assistance – had few alternatives to turn to.
“At the very least,” Thane granted, “we may be able to make contact with the Council or someone else in the Republic from the palace.” His eyes drifted westward, to where Unifar Temple could be seen in the distance, looming over Iziz in all its decadent, recently war-ravaged glory. So long as, he mused inwardly, still fearing for their masters’ wellbeing, Queen Omina is indeed the principled woman we think her to be.
After what had transpired so far, Jedi training and his own cynicism aside, he was growing less sure with each passing moment. Whilst only a fleeting thought, a part of him could not help but feel as though they should just leave them all to their own devices; to flounder in the mirk and mire that was their own doing.
But no – that was not the Jedi way. That was not his and Bomoor’s way.
Entry back into Unifar Temple had been far harder, and less ceremonious, than their first attempt some hours ago. Having marched with as much haste as they could muster without drawing unnecessary attention to themselves – lightsabers notwithstanding – Thane and Bomoor had been halted entering the palace district by one of the many royal guards hurrying about the place, security having been visibly upgraded as they trotted from here to there, all wearing the dour expressions Thane assumed all Onderonians now wore as part of their uniform.
His own uniform over-starched and damp from the recent storm, the royal guard had wasted no time in trying to turn the young Jedi away, entirely disinterested in their protestations. Of course, a simple wave of the hand and a few kindly words of encouragement saw his concerns slip away, and soon he was leading the pair through the ornate corridors of the palace to his sovereign.
Despite the odd glance, the other soldiers and guards paid little heed to Thane and Bomoor with their escort as he brought them through a couple of security checkpoints that had not existed during their first visit, and the gentle fragrance that had carried along the palace’s corridors had been seemingly replaced with the buzz of a looming conflict, a sensation that was not entirely new to the padawans – or the Onderonians.
Their escort, eager to see them reach their destination, pushed open the large doors that led into the queen’s impressive-yet-spartan, several stories high throne room. The lavish carpet that paraded up to the throne itself was now marked in several places, the boots of hurrying soldiers having traipsed the day’s storm into the palace.
As expected, Queen Omina was present, standing tall before her throne. Alongside her stood another figure, tall and masculine, although age had visibly lined his face and robbed his hair and bushy moustache of colour. Turning to face the newcomers, the elder man, garbed in a more ostentatious form of the sashed military uniform the other royal guards wore, drew the rapier that hung from his tunic and took position between the Jedi and Omina.
“Her Majesty was not expecting your presence,” he said with dignified warning, the angle and manner by which he held his shimmering blade making clear his expertise with the weapon. “Why have you let these Jedi in, Sergeant?”
Standing tall, this figure’s baritone voice was confident and assured, his eyes flecked with intelligence and civility, despite the circumstances. Although Thane halted the moment the weapon was drawn, purposely raising his empty hands to indicate he was of no threat, he mused this man was probably all Intendant Thendleton, for all his pomposity, ought to actually be. Using the motion of raising his hands to release the sergeant from his mental bondage, the young Human had barely uttered a word when the queen cut in.
“Lower your sword, Marshal,” she said, placing a slender but firm hand upon the elder man’s shoulder. “I care to hear what they have to say.” Her tones were as precise and military as they had been before, although some suspicion seemed to dance across her pupils.
Reaching out with the Force, Thane found both Onderonians difficult to penetrate but undoubtedly wary, whilst the frustration and confusion coming from the sergeant was palpable, even in his controlled silence.
“These Jedi could well be party to the splittists dashing our people left, right and centre,” the marshal warned modestly, although he sheathed his weapon as commanded. “Our men reported, after all, that their fellow was found in the rubble of the Regal,” he continued, grey-green eyes never wavering in their intensity.
The queen did not look back to the marshal, but instead focused on the Jedi as she stepped around the back of her officer, a thin eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Our men also reported that these Jedi engaged Rift Knight Theon in combat in the hotel’s plaza. I do not believe either of them astute or underhanded enough to undergo something quite so intricate as what you are describing, Marshal. Nor am I of the opinion that Rift Knight Sazar would engage in something so reckless or cruel as that she is accused of. That being said, our scouts did lose track of your masters shortly after they departed from the Bronze Keep.”
Finally taking her gaze away from Thane and Bomoor, the Queen concluded her slow pacing steps around the marshal and settled herself stiffly into her throne, not appearing a woman entirely comfortable with the authority it brought. “It seems to me, Master Jedi, that Onderon is a little beyond you and your Republic.” Although Omina was a well-known sympathiser of the Outer Rim Alliance, despite their fortunes in the recent conflict with the Republic, a tinge of sadness had entered her otherwise stoic voice. “Say your piece, but make it quick. As you can see; with your failure thus far, we prepare our next move before my nephew makes that failure complete.”
At that subtle hint of what was transpiring, the marshal’s brown seemed to furrow further, but he stayed his tongue and watched the Jedi carefully.
Returning the marshal’s stare for a few brief moments, Thane turned his attentions back to the queen, inwardly noting how when they had stood before her originally, Masters Thurius and Sotah beside them, she had paid little heed to either of them, focusing only on their mentors. Even now, he wondered how dismissive she truly felt towards them, if she was perhaps of the same opinion as Thendleton.
After letting his tongue loll about his mouth for a moment, he decided on what he was going to say. “If you’re responding to a tip-off about another bomb or attack, it’s quite possibly a trap,” he advised, finding his voice. He looked to Bomoor briefly before looking back again. “Two photonic charge packs had been taken from the GalactaWerks depot, and the sort of damage done to the hotel would only require one of those.”
Having been skimming their emotional state through the Force, Bomoor felt a strong response from both the marshal and Omina. While their exteriors both held a reasonably stern and practiced gaze at his companion, the marshal could not prevent his flash of concern from broadcasting through his very aura. The Queen herself displayed a tinge of sadness and dispair at the news.
Before Thane continued, Bomoor felt he needed to diffuse any sudden reactions, "We must stress that we are not working with much information here," he spoke up, with his naturally-deep voice bouncing off the large stone walls, "According to GalactaWerks records, the explosives simply disappeared sometime in the last two days, since the last stock check. A number of GalactaWerks officials signed into the armoury in that time, but we could not acquire any information on these individuals as they hope to settle this as an 'internal matter'. But clearly this incident has far wider implications than just the corporation themselves."
Bomoor stepped into the centre of the long carpet, which stretched up to the Queen herself, "This is why we have brought this information to you now and we would like to offer our services in resolving this matter, particularly given that a great Jedi has already been killed and our own Masters may be in danger."
Both the marshal and the queen crossed their arms, almost in perfect mirror of one another as they gazed over the two young Jedi Padawans, but incredulity only narrowly creased either of their features. A simmering rage made the hairs of the military figure's facial eye visibly twitch, and his gloved hand came to rest on the hilt of his blade.
Thinking once again of his earlier discussion with Thane regarding the identity of the guilty party or individuals, Bomoor continued, "While we feel there strong possibility that someone within GalactaWerks was involved in the theft of the explosives, it seems likely that this is the act of an individual and not representative of GalactaWerks itself."
Saying this, Bomoor wondered whether it was right to deflect the blame away from GalactaWerks, given how it was their rotten influence that gave power to the terrorists; was he defending the innocent or simply saving face for the Republic?
"And so, young Jedi," the Queen purred, her delicate tones belying her own age, "what do you propose you now do with this kernel of intelligence? I'd had it heard that revenge was not the Jedi way, but one Jedi has already been taken by these terrorists, and yet another consumed by the loss of his master, turning on you both."
"This could just as easily be a Republic ploy," the marshal added, stepping narrowly in front of his queen, his back half-turned to the Jedi, "using GalactaWerks as simple proxies - or vice versa." He offered a small glance back to the pair, mostly Bomoor as the last speaker. "These... children could just as easily be being played as any of your nephew's or the Militia."
Silently sighing, dismissing the comment on their age, Bomoor thought about how far things had fallen from the grand vision of the Third Galactic Republic and the position the Jedi held within it. At one time, many years before the Consular's birth, the very notion of a Jedi commanded a level of unquestioning trust in their moral conviction and character. Now, as he stood here in the accusing gaze of the martial and his monarch, he realised how the Jedi ideal no longer resonated with people and how he had to appeal from his own person, rather than relying on his title.
"Thane and I came to Onderon with open minds," he began, "We were too young to have truly known the last Outer Rim Conflict so our experience here is untainted by old wounds or prejudice. While it is true that we came here at GalactaWerks request, what we have seen here makes it clear that the corporation does not have the interests of the people at heart and neither does Prince Garius and his Avalans. So here we stand before you, placing our faith in you."
He gave the viridian crystal another couple of turns in his hand, "Earlier today, I attempted to help a woman named Malin, former advisor to your Royal Throne, after she was badly injured in the blast at the Regal Hotel. She told me that her services were prized because she had the gift of foresight and the wisdom to compliment it. If you or your mother ever took advice from her, I am sure she would have told you that prophesy does not take sides and does not have motive; it is an echo of the actions we take in the present. But inaction creates no echo and there is no future in apathy so I ask that you take action now; trust us, work with us and let us find who is really seeding this dispute.”
Bomoor craned his arching neck around and looked towards Thane. His adolescent friend stood just behind him, quite a lot smaller than the Ithorian, who had already completed most of his growing. Looking past the species difference, Thane often took on the role of a younger brother and Bomoor often felt protective, although he knew that the young Caanan was an adept swordsman already and more than a match for most fully-grown sentients. He hoped that he was setting a good example on diplomacy and not simply prattling on pointlessly.
Raising the crystal up in his hands, hoping it would have some significance to the monarch, Bomoor turned back and added, “Unfortunately, Malin did not survive the attack but she had faith enough in me, in her dying moments, to give me this rare crystal, which I believe holds great significance to the Royal history of Onderon. Do not trust GalactaWerks, do not trust the Alliance, don’t even trust the Republic, if you wish, but please trust in me…”
He rocked a shoulder backwards, smiling slightly, “…and my friend here.”
Thane offered a small, genuine half-smile back at his friend, with only a few punctuated moments passing before the queen spoke again. "Very well," she said, her tone audibly shifting to one of kindness and confidence.
Her eyes had watched the Ithorian with avid interest as he had made his impassioned plea, and she was even offering a genuine smile not unlike that of Thane's, although her attention was undeniably fixated upon Bomoor.
"You speak eloquently and from the heart, Ithorian, and I do not doubt the verity of your intentions. Far be it from me to let one so committed to Onderon be turned away-" The Marshall opened his mouth to object, but Omina raised a bejewelled hand, glinting as she silenced him prematurely. "There are many who question those who have mastery of your magical ways, be they Rift or Reborn; Onderon and her moon have a troubled history with those who can touch the Force, and those scars remain to this day, exploited as they are by the likes of GalacataWerks." The word was said scathingly, through gritted teeth.
"So, come," the Queen turned on her heel and stepped over to her throne, her fluid movements serene against the backdrop of guardsmen scurrying to see Unifar Temple properly prepared. The Marshal only gave a withering, mistrustful look to the Jedi pair as he stiffly moved to stand beside his regent. "The Crown would hear what it is you would suggest, Master Jedi."
TBC
RSS Feed