Unearthing the Past

Posted on Tue Jul 17th, 2018 @ 12:40am by Jela Valla & Rynseh Lahan & Damask Hul

2,721 words; about a 14 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Speaker of the Senate's Office, Coruscant
Timeline: Morning after "Coruscanti Night"

OLD

“Well… uh. I suppose I do have to get on,” Damask fumbled slightly, breaking his usually flawless control over his words. In truth, he had made plans to meet Senator Vana later this evening, but this revelation turned everything on its head. Thinking quickly, he continued, “We shall have to arrange a proper meeting between us all. Perhaps roll it into a trip to the Opera? I shall have my office contact you…”

He turned and grabbed Master Lahan by the shoulder, pulling him slightly aside and speaking only so he could hear, “…and you will make the time to see me first thing tomorrow morning at my office. You know me so you know I won’t let it go if you don’t show up.”

NEW

A wily old man with a cold and twisted glare in his weathered eyes had once said, "Time is the fire in which we burn." Rynseh heard those forlorn words in a dingy wretched Tatooine cantina scarcely a month before Balmorra when actual fire caught him. Indeed, the flames had burned three good years of his life in ignominy. In that time enduring his hellish recovery treated in bacta tanks and wrapped head to toe in bandages whilst struggling to overcome one insidious bacterial infection after another, he had much time to think about those words. He had dismissed the depraved old man as a babbling fool who had no idea what really mattered more than time itself. Time was the illusion made up by sentients to create a sense of orderly progression to the growth and aging of all things. The truth, of course, was the Force. All things lived in it, and all things died with it. It made the stars burn bright, and its will allowed those bombs in that weapons factory on Balmorra to go off and change the course of his life forever.

Now here he was, a Jedi Master, soon to be on the Reborn Council at the great Jundal Quellus' side, and about to have a morning meeting with a man he spent three years learning not to hate. It wasn't about himself and suffering as a combustible object on two legs, but rather about those five bold padawans that followed him into the factory that day not knowing that the place was going to be their crematorium.

Too much damned drama in my life, he thought dismissively as he stood in front of the ornate double-door leading to the office of Senate Speaker Damask Hul. As the secretary droid called the Speaker to announce the Jedi's arrival, Ryn quickly squelched any further thought about those kids. They volunteered for the mission; they knew the risks. Three years to mourn was time enough. It was time to hit the reset button on life and get on with conducting business like the old days. Hul is not my enemy today. We were friends once before, and I may require his help for the mission. This has to be done.

The droid nodded as it received confirmation, "You may head in now," it spoke with a feminine-programmed voice before resuming interfacing with its screen. Pushing the doors open, Rynseh found himself in a moderately sized, carpeted room with a large desk, just off-centre with various screens on or around it with feeds from various sources such as the stock markets and CoruSec reports. Behind the desk, encompassing the back wall was a wide, slightly-tinted window looking out at the sprawling ecumenopolis outside, the morning sun bursting through the gaps in the tall buildings and painting strips of orange light on the largely bare walls of the office.

As Ryn stepped in further, Damask rose up from behind the screens at his desk, turning a couple off before he walked around towards his visitor. Before even uttering a greeting, the Duros Speaker got straight to business, "I have been over all the reports and data available on the Balmorra mission," he stated, putting his hands behind his back as he stared at his old colleague, "Even my own personal files that cannot have been redacted. But there is nothing, not even the slightest data chunk out of place that would suggest that you survived that mission and yet here you are."

He dropped his arms to his sides and drifted forwards, moving in a circle around Rynseh and examining him from all sides before stopping again in front of him, "There is always the chance..." he halted, thinking for a moment before asking, "Tell me, what was the code word we used in all our communiques for that last mission?"

"Operation Red Gambit consisted of myself as Harrier Leader, my team as Harriers One through Six, and the strike commandos, Team Kestrel, led by Captain Florion Harker. You went with your old code word for the op, 'Gravekeeper'," Ryn answered evenly with narrowed eyes as he recited the classified codenames to leave no doubts. Dwelling on Balmorra and those fallen warriors was really testing Ryn's nerves, but then again, Hul had to live up to his old pretentious wartime codename and dig up the past.

"That's right, but I suppose Quellus could have gotten that information, since he was so close... Well then, do you remember when we abducted the daughter of the Ruusanian Diplomat? What was the name of the doll she had with her? She kept on shouting its name over and over..."

Ryn shook his head and breathed out his frustration at this line of questioning with an agitated frown, "Doctor Bigglesworth. It was a feline character from a popular children's show at the time. I remember you poking fun at how much you thought it looked like me."

The emotional recollection was almost certainly not implanted. This was the real Rynseh and Hul was concerned about the implications this had, not just on himself but on the Republic as a whole.

"Then it is you, Rynseh. Welcome back to the land of the living," Damask now took his visitor's clawed hand and have it one firm shake, "I must apologise for being so dismissive up until now; I had to be certain it was really you."

The former-TRIO operator wondered if he should delve further into their shared history, which had concluded with Hul's resignation from the intelligence service and Lahan's crippling injuries. However, he decided that it would serve little purpose but to rile up negative emotions. Instead he took a step back and invited Rynseh to take a seat on one of the softer sofas in the corner of his office before sitting down himself beside him.

"Now, can I get you a drink?" Hul enquired, pushing a button on the low drinks table before them, bringing up a display with the various beverages deliverable from the Senate cafateria, "Caf, perhaps? Or, what was it you liked? Rootgrass tea?"

"I require the Descent," Ryn answered as he straightened his posture, getting straight to the point of his visit, "or the Laguna Skana if it still has the TRIO stealth equipment. The Order's resources are stretched thin and cannot spare a ship at this time. You're the only one I know with turn-key access to off-the-books craft. I need one for my mission."

Hul sighed, closing the order screen and sitting back in his seat, both hands resting on the soft arms on either side, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Rynseh, but things have changed since the TRIO days. The Jedi cannot simply requisition Republic equipment at the drop of a hat; that’s just the kind of thinking that set us down the road to Balmorra.”

There he was, mentioning the old mission, despite his best efforts. He breathed in and tried again, “Listen, perhaps you should tell me what this is all about. If this is something that requires the Republic’s attention, then I am sure I can get you more than that old ship.”

Rynseh knew there was no such thing as a free ride with Damask Hul; there was always some measure of quid pro quo involved. Nevertheless, Hul was a reasonable man, and lives were at stake with two more potentially fallen Jedi skulking about the galaxy, so it was worth the cost.

"Two Jedi Knights have recently gone rogue," Rynseh said, the very mention of which affixed a touch of shame in his gravelly baritone voice. "I aim to get them back before they cause harm to themselves and others."

The term ‘Rogue Jedi’ hardly told Hul much; there had been many Jedi who left the order with no consequence. He hardly saw it as a crime to do as most simply returned to their homeworlds after finding themselves at odds with the Reborn Order’s way of life. Damask certainly could not imagine himself fitting into their religious regime. However, the Jedi Counsel, or perhaps simply Quellus, took it very seriously when such resignations occurred. He wondered what was particularly special about this case.

“I take it there is something more urgent about these particular Knights, which makes you keen to pursue them yourself?" the speaker questioned, thinking back to his work with terrorist cells, "Have they made threats against the Republic?”

"It isn't that they were Knights," Rynseh tried to explain. "Under normal circumstances, we would've let them lead their lives in peace after they left. We have reason to believe that the dark side, however, is what will soon make them a threat to us all if they are not kept in check. I intend to apprehend them and...'convince' them to return to the Light. You yourself once told me that history is the greatest teacher. Well, we are taught that we must always remain on guard against the darkness, especially from within. We cannot allow the return of the Sith."

Damask grimaced as he thought the request through. A similar request must have been made of the Supreme Chancellor last night, which clearly was met with a negative response. In this case, he agreed with his colleague but perhaps he could still throw his old Cathar friend a bone.

He softened his face and spoke in a reasonable tone, "Now, I can see why the Order might be concerned, but what these individuals have done is not a crime within the Republic and we cannot sanction any official warrants for their arrest. However, the Order has always had its own set of rules, whether I agree or not and I cannot stop you going after these two."

He stood up and walked towards the window, the morning sun now higher and just peeking out from the tops of some of the buildings, illuminating his blue-green face, "To that end, I can secure you a ship but this will continue to be purely a Jedi matter. However, I do want to see you again very soon. Now I know you are alive, I do not want you to simply slip away once more."

"If I disappear again, it will mean that I am dead," Rynseh said as a promise. "We're too old to lurk in the shadows, Damask. I'm living on borrowed time. The Force will not save me again as it did three years ago. After I bring those misguided young men back to the fold, I will deliver my plan to the Council to reassemble the Templars. Not as a small ragtag group of Shadows and agents, but as the most advanced force of peacekeepers ever conceived by the Jedi Temple. We will assure once and for all that no force of the Dark will harm the people of the Republic ever again."

“So long as your intentions are transparent, then I shall not interfere with your business. The Templars should never have been involved with TRIO so let us keep them apart for all our sakes. Remind Quellus of that too, my friend.”

"You have my word on that," Rynseh assured him.

Turning back around with a half-smile, Damask added, “Then, I shall contact TRIO and see whether either of those two vessels are available. I promise that I shall procure a suitable ship for your needs so long as my name is not mentioned in the reports. If our business is concluded, then I wish you my very best and I am sure I will see you again very soon.”

Even if you don’t see me, the old spy in him added subconsciously.

"One more thing," Rynseh said as he stepped over to Hul's desk and laid down fifty credits worth of chits. "I lost our last bet during the war. Lahans always pay their debts." He nodded with a grin to Hul and turned to make his military stride for the door.

A genuine smile seeped across Hul’s gaunt face as he turned and grasped the credit chips, “Indeed, I recall. Safe travels my friend.”

As the doors closed behind his visitor, the Speaker’s eyes lingered on the entryway a moment, as though Ryn’s figure was burnt into the metal itself. He wondered if this ghost from the past would haunt him or bring him peace. For now, he had brought him information.

He dropped the chips back to the surface and returned several of his monitors to life before taking his seat at the desk. Typing into his keyboard, it did not take him long to find the names of the knights Rynseh was referring to: Thort, Ithorian Male; Thane, Human Male. Their names were on a number of databases the former-agent could access but they were too old to identify their recent movements. If he wanted to know more, he would need to call on someone else with near-unlimited access to the Holonet datafiles. Fortunately, he still had more than a foot in the door of the Intelligence Office.

His blue finger pressed the intercom button linking to his Secretarial Droid, “Get me TRIO Agent Valla on the line, would you?”

After an affirmation from the droid, Damask routed the pending call over to the larger holocom projector towards the centre of the room. He did not have to wait long and had just barely raised from his chair before the life-size blue projection of Jela Valla appeared in the room. The compressed blue-dominant image did not do justice to the rosy colour of the Twi’Lek’s skin, although most of her body was covered by her usual field agent uniform.

Adopting a civil posture, with his arms behind his back, Hul stood in front of the projector, “Agent Valla. Thank you for taking my call.”

"Speaker Hul," the slender TRIO agent inclined her head, the to-size holoimage the exact height of the Duros politician. Although her soft features retained their usually stoic outward appearance, the slight twitch of her right lekku made it clear to Damask that Valla was somewhat taken aback by the speaker's sudden contact. "Is there some way I can help you, sir?"

“Indeed, I have identified some individuals whom I think it would be in the Republic’s best interest to keep a trace on. A pair of former Jedi that the Order is unusually keen to apprehend. I understand you must be busy running operations of your own, but I would appreciate it if you handled this personally and, of course, kept me in the loop. I must stress, this is not on behalf of the Reborn Order, but a personal request.”

Damask tilted his head slightly, “Your continued support to my office will earn you my personal recommendation for further advancement.”

Again, the Twi'lek agent inclined her head in deference, in spite of a twitch of a now-curious lekku. "Of course, Speaker. All for the Republic. This is, of course, a peculiar assignment. My handlers may have reservations about such an undertaking. Jedi do not make for easy marks, rogue or otherwise."

“Understandable. I will compile some details and send them to you with the usual encryption code. Let me know your decision,” as a final thought, Hul added, “Oh, and do you know if The Descent is still in dry dock? It may be needed once again.”

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