Before - Legends Before the Saga The Northern Frontier (Jedi OCs | Kymoodon Era, Old Republic | Adventure/Drama | Multi-chapter)

Title: The Northern Frontier
Author: TherenAdarni
Timeframe: Early Kymoodon Era, 14,980 BBY | 520-10R (Timeline)

Prologue
Newcomers
Jedi Fest
Misgivings
Conditions

Prologue

For the final time, drops of rain fell on an ancient forest on an unnamed world. They tapped lightly on the leaves and branches overhead, before one breached the canopy, striking the up-turned face of the man standing among the roots.

He closed his eyes, letting a few more drops hit his lined forehead, his cheek, his nose, before returning his attention to the younger woman beside him. The hood of the man’s dull purple cloak thudded in his ears as the rain grew heavier. She looked at him expectantly.

“Master?” She asked, the word coming out awkwardly. Her own light poncho was not faring as well in the elements and she clearly wanted to leave.

Master. He had waited so long to be addressed with that title. Though he had always imagined hearing it from a Knight. This company representative, Dira, was merely being polite, not truly meaning the word in the way that an Alsakani Jedi would. Regardless, Var Khoonda took what pleasure he could from hearing his new position recognised.

“Yes,” he said, “I am satisfied. Your teams may begin.”

Dira typed a code into the small device she carried, and an immense roar vibrated through the forest floor, as dozens of huge forestry drones came to life. Though he couldn’t see them now, Var remembered the machines from the tour he’d been given aboard the Dantar Corporation ship Intention. They were mindless, hulking things, and it was hard not to project a sort of malevolence onto them, as if the red painted lines across their hulls were streaks of blood, and the implements they wielded were deadly weapons.

Within moments the first thunderous cracks of wood and the whining of laser-saws echoed through the trees. The damp, musty smell of wild growth was replaced with that of charred wood and sap. Dira’s expression grew solemn, though Var didn’t find it entirely convincing.

This visit to Dantar’s newest project was an odd formality, one that Var assumed was entirely for his benefit. As a Jedi, perhaps Dira thought he would mark the occasion with some sort of rite or incantation, to mourn the loss of an untouched biome. The gesture was appreciated, but unnecessary. Var was here for people, the Republic, those through whom the Force enacted its will. If the guardians of civilisation were to break down in tears over every flood, forest fire, or chemical spill that occurred across the galaxy, the Republic would have permanently collapsed millennia ago.

Behind them, the noise of a shuttle’s engines were added to the din. Turning to face the large clearing in which it had just landed, Var inhaled deeply. As pointless as this excursion had been for him, he welcomed this final respite before the true work began. Mantooine. The temple. A dozen Knights and their eventual students. Then there were the settlers, the corporations, the indigenes, and all of the disputes that resulted from their interactions. The future of an entire region of space had been placed on Var Khoonda’s shoulders.

The strange mixture of eager anticipation and dread left him feeling as if he were levitating several kilometers above the surface, able to see and control far more than anyone else, but simultaneously at risk of a calamitous fall at any moment. This was the edge of greatness. Spreading the light of the Jedi to a thousand new worlds was the pinnacle of what a master could hope to achieve within a human lifespan.

The shuttle resembled a giant metal brick with stubby wings, rounded edges and a blunt nose featuring a large viewport. It was the same vessel that had dropped the pair off fifteen minutes earlier, and despite the ship’s frankly ugly external appearance, the passenger cabin would not have been out of place on a luxury starliner. The room was richly adorned; Var and Dira had access to a range of refreshments, alcoholic and otherwise, and a state-of-the-art holographic entertainment system. Enough to keep them occupied far longer than the five minutes it would take to return to the Intention parked in orbit.

Var entered first. He removed his cloak and turned to face his companion, allowing some excitement to show in his smile.

“Well, Dira,” he said, “this journey has been extremely enlightening. The settlers of these new worlds will be very happy with what Dantar provides them, I’m sure.” Var strode towards a seat beside a starboard window and settled in.

“I’m very glad you think so, Master,” she said, still standing while the door closed behind her. “Is there anything—?”

“No, no,” he said, waving off the question. “Please, sit” he gestured towards the window, “and show me your vision of the future.”

As they rose above the rapidly shrinking forest, the full scale of the drones’ operation became apparent. Dozens of slate grey machines the size of small buildings advanced side by side, leaving behind them a slurry of mud, sawdust, and other organic matter.

Wild Space was being tamed. The Republic was its new master, and the Jedi would be its keepers. Var Khoonda found it easy to be reassured here, on a world with no intelligent life, no precious resources to fight over, and where the only truth to believe was the one presented by one’s own eyes. But without ambiguity and without conflict, a Jedi served no purpose. It was time to set things in motion.

Intention loomed above, and Var considered the twelve Jedi Knights waiting for him. Some were familiar names, for better or worse, while others were entirely unknown. For now, all he could do was hope that they were able to meet the coming challenges, and that the Force would be with them when they did.

 

First time writing fanfic, have posted the above prologue and another chapter elsewhere, so will post that soon too. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

Will hopefully dip my toe into the rest of the fic community here soon. There's so much!

 

And with your drabbles beginning this will be a nice look at Jedi from the past. I love your OC Var Khoonda

 

First of all, welcome to fanfic! We're a friendly bunch over here, and I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay among us.

I have to say before I begin my review that I'm coming into this story era-blind; as a matter of fact I'd never heard of the Kymoodon Era before I clicked on the link. However, you do a great job of sprinkling details here and there that tell me that this is a period when the Republic expands into Wild Space and that what we see here is the beginning of a colonisation project – in all its horror, really, because while there is no massacre of natives, the mental image of a forest being transformed into "a slurry of mud, sawdust, and other organic matter" is not a pleasant one, and the idea that there is some corporation that handles the transformation of the planet has something of a banana republic feel to it.

As for your protagonist Var Khoonda... well, there's something not entirely kosher about him. He repeats many times how he serves the Force, the Republic and its people, how he will "spread the light of the Jedi" and so on and so forth, but he definitely likes power, doesn't he? He enjoys being called "master" even by a non-Jedi, he comes across as rather cold-hearted when he says that he can't "break down in tears over every flood, forest fire, or chemical spill that occurs across the galaxy", he feels that he is on the "edge of greatness", he believes that the "future of an entire region of space" lies with him... Yup, some major red flags there, all perfectly summed up in this sentence:

Lastly, I want to note how well-written and scrupulously edited your text is. That's the zoochberry on the cake when a story is pleasant to read!

I should let you know that I'm not very good at keeping up with reviews (understatement of the century) but I'll make sure to drop you a "like" at the very least when you update to let you know that I'm reading. Looking forward to seeing this story unfold!

 

Hopefully! I really like the idea of building up a headcanon/fanon that is so far removed from other stories. Space for the status quo to flip back and forth several times before stepping on anyone's toes.

Thank you so much for your review! There's not much established about this time period beyond a few bullet points, which is why I was drawn to it.

Yeah, I'm looking forward to developing Khoonda and his Knights further. Don't know nothing about any red flags though, he seems perfectly okay to me

The promise of fanfic is exciting, but I can't decide whether I'd rather be reading or writing at any given moment!

 

Newcomers

Well, Mantooine was certainly no Raxus. Of course, Jarren Darmond didn’t mean that in a derogatory way, but it was only natural to make such comparisons so soon after leaving the world where he’d spent almost his entire life. There hadn’t yet been much time for the young human to adjust, either to his attaining Knighthood or to this new posting half the galaxy away from his native Tion Cluster.

Whereas Raxus Prime was a planet of bustling cities and perfectly manicured gardens and reserves, this place was wild, almost untouched.

He had yet to properly centre himself through meditation after many weeks of space travel, but Jarren could feel the Force thrumming within the mountains and vibrating through the earth. It arced through the soil to penetrate vast root networks, then soared dozens of metres up the trees themselves, before permeating through the leaves and pouring into the bitingly chilly morning air.

Closing his eyes, Jarren then followed the currents—the hum of the universe—in the opposite direction, back to the stone heart of the cliffs on which he stood.

Beneath him, still hugging the mountainside, was the settlement of Laddenah. So far, it consisted mostly of short duracrete buildings; all of them crowded so close together that there was no space for vehicular traffic. It was a maze of alleyways which had been forced to adapt to an uncooperative environment. Mantooine refused to be tamed.

As a result, what had been designed as a utilitarian set of workers’ hovels and small businesses had instead become a genuine neighbourhood. People huddled so close together, united against a hostile planet could hardly avoid it. Here too, the Force hummed and sparked with activity.

Established six years prior by a combination of Republic pioneers and several Core-based companies, Laddenah had initially been intended to host a vast number of ships, once the heavily forested valley below the settlement had been cleared. That plan hadn’t quite worked out either.

Dantar Corp had attempted to loose their monstrous forestry drones on the dense and forbidding landscape, but soon found that even those titans weren’t up to the task. The trees had proved hardier than most of the machines’ implements could handle, and even when they did manage to get through the deceptively tough bark, progress was so slow that the projected five days to completion had been revised to two years.

Instead, the drones had been set upon a much easier target further to the galactic north. The world which Master Khoonda had chosen to visit, rather than wait here for his new Knights to arrive.

Jarren chided himself for that thought. He and each of his soon-to-be comrades may have been placed under Master Khoonda’s authority, but Khoonda was not in turn obliged to babysit them, was he? Being a Knight required self-assurance and initiative, he reminded himself, not bitterness.

No doubt Dantar’s people were hoping to give the Master a more impressive demonstration of their drones than the abortive attempts at deforestation here on Mantooine. Jarren couldn’t quite suppress an amused smile.

Eventually, the lead company in the consortium—Mantell—had exhausted all other options for clearing a landing area for Laddenah. Leaving them with only one choice in their eyes: sustained aerial bombardment.

From what one of the mechanics had said, it had lasted for weeks, and even then the Scar had only been made large enough to accommodate one of the larger Mantell cruisers—a far cry from the planned twenty. Instead of the spaceport, an orbital space station had been established that would receive most of the larger ships; cargo and personnel would then be shuttled to the surface. It had also become the preferred home for the higher-ups in Mantell, Dantar and the rest.

As he reflected on the world’s sudden thrusting into the galactic community, Jarren allowed himself to visualise the way that Laddenah had come together. Not as it truly had—psychometry was not a skill he possessed—but in the way that his mind presented the events to him. He felt connections form between individuals and the strength that they drew from each other. How they built bonds that were every bit as integral to Laddenah as the physical structure of the buildings.

Yet when he saw himself arriving aboard the Jaminere’s Steel four days prior, the network he saw began to grow distant. It was still there, but Jarren himself felt shut out, unable to feel a part of it just yet.

It bothered him, to feel like an intrusion on this environment. Having been born and grown up in the Tion Cluster, he had always felt that he belonged, had a role to fulfill. Here though, things felt so undefined. What little history this civilisation had was something that he’d missed out on, and the rules were still being written. That was his purpose here, he reminded himself. To ensure that the principles of the Republic were upheld. Most of them at least. Some.

Besides, Jarren had seen how many of Mantooine’s inhabitants welcomed the coming presence of Jedi Knights. Already there had been signs of discord among the populace.

The planet itself however… actually didn’t seem to want him present. Nor the settlers. Its hostility radiated from within the shaded green depths beyond the ferrocrete expanse of the Scar, like a wave of malignant energy, and it left Jarren feeling off-balance.

A sudden chill called him back to himself. He shook away the distraction from his mind and the cold from under his skin. Why was he up here again?

Looking around, there wasn’t much of interest this far above the settlement. Very little in the way of plant life was able to persist up here. There were practically no animals, and no one lived in this direction. But Jarren had heard from reliable sources that large quantities of quarried stone had been carried somewhere nearby for reasons unknown. That was something to look into.

He’d spent the last few days making introductions to the various residents of Laddenah: learning where in the Republic they’d come from, why they’d left, and what skills had earned them passage to the New Territories. Most were from the old Core worlds, planets so heavily populated and polluted that there was little need to ask why they had left.

Others, those of the more “alien” species primarily, had hoped to escape: either from a galactic center that was growing ever more humanocentric, or from the ongoing devastation in the Hutt-controlled regions to the East. Others still had simply seen the opportunity for a new start and perhaps, a potential for major profits. These groups, Jarren was finding, did not always mix well.

Who he hadn't found was the single Jedi who had arrived ahead of him. The young Knight had kept an eye out for the typical robes or armour—whether beige and sandy-coloured like his own tunic and cloak, or something more in the Core fashion, that was to say, showy. But to no avail.

Following a rocky path just barely wide enough for two humans to stand side-by-side, Jarren had to wonder how the quarried stone had been moved. There were no tracks to be seen that would indicate a surface vehicle had traveled this way, and he doubted that any of the precious few Mantell repulsor-sleds would have been spared for someone’s passion project.

Eventually, the path widened out to a flat area large enough for a decent-sized complex. And as it turned out, there was construction going on up here; the wooden framework of four buildings surrounded the beginnings of a courtyard, and smooth hewn white stones—each the width of Jarren’s arm-span, and half that in height and thickness—were being carefully placed to form walls.

Not by construction drones either; there were about twenty beings of various species involved in the project, grouped in fours to move the substantial-looking building blocks, each gripping handholds carved into the rock. Despite the chilly morning air, most of the workers’ clothes were soaked with sweat, their faces betraying the difficulty of their labour.

Jarren only recognised perhaps two or three of these people, and was unsure of whether to introduce himself to the others. They clearly had a plan in place, and there was no point disrupting it or inserting himself where he wasn’t needed or wanted.

On the other hand, the power of the Force could assemble these structures far more quickly and with less effort than this strenuous lifting. And if this planet was to be his home from now on, his first impression might as well be that of a helpful and considerate Jedi Knight.

He turned to look at the collection of perfect bricks further back, at the base of another cliff, where someone had clearly been shaping them into their perfectly regular forms—meaning, Jarren wondered to realise, that they had started out even heavier. If this was some sort of community-building exercise, it was an intense one.

Stretching out with his hand and his senses, he grasped the stone with the Force, raising it from the pile.

As he did so, Jarren could feel the attention of the labourers turn towards him. Several humans, a pair of Iridonians, a Nautolan, some furred species that Jarren didn’t recognise… and a huge rubbery-skinned creature that looked like it might have climbed right out of Mantooine’s oceans. It had unexpectedly emerged from behind one of the new buildings, and almost caused Jarren to lose his telekinetic grip in his surprise. Nevertheless, the floating block reached its destination, settling into place with the satisfying sound of stone gently scraping stone.

Unease rippled through the Force, and the builders’ body language became awkward and unsure.

Jarren frowned. It wasn’t that he’d expected cheers and applause, but these men and women seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Many looked to their large companion, apparently their leader.

The sea-mammal-with-legs lumbered casually forward, stopped at the wall, and inspected the newly added piece. Grasping the edges, they heaved the block a few centimetres, making minute adjustments until perfection was achieved. They turned.

“Why did you do that?”

Their voice was unsurprisingly deep and resonant, and although Jarren felt his stomach drop at the question—he should have left well enough alone—he noted that its tone was more curious than angry. There was no judgement that Jarren could sense.

“I’m sorry?” The response could have been a question or a confused apology, Jarren himself didn’t know.

The strange behemoth let out a short breath that might have been a sigh.

“You drew on the strength of the Force, rather than using your own.”

To this, Jarren had no immediate answer. His expectation had been that this being would question his interference in their work, not his relationship with the Force itself.

“The Force is my strength,” he said after a moment, brows drawn together in thought. “Through it, the universe is united in one infinite symbiotic system. Your strength is mine, and vice versa.” Not quite how Cardess had described it to him as a Padawan, but it got the point across.

“Judging by those arms, I think you get far more out of that trade than I do!” A deep honking sound emanated from the stranger at that, reverberating so strongly off the mountain that Jarren’s eyes darted upward to check for any sign of rockslides. Laughter, he assumed.

“My name is Bajja,” they said with a brief inclination of the head. “I appreciate your trying to help… Jarren?” Their tone raised in question.

Jarren nodded and Bajja continued, gesticulating all the while;

“But I’d rather do this physically. I was taught that a monument to the Force must be built with one’s own hands. We may have the secret nature of the universe to discover, but we are still bone, blood and muscle. Can’t ignore that!”

Here was his missing Jedi, then. Jarren relaxed, released his unease as best he could, and removed his cloak. The cold rushed to envelop him, but that would cease to be a concern soon enough.

“Okay then,” he said with a small smile, “where can I start?”

———

Mantooine’s sun bore down from directly overhead, and Jarren found himself almost nostalgic for the morning’s chill. The crew had just about done all they could through physical labour alone, most now resting in the courtyard in what little shade they could find beneath the walls. This was of course except for Bajja, whose towering stature made adding bricks to the higher layers less than impossible.

Bajja was a Herglic, and a male of his species, he’d explained. Over the past two weeks he’d been hunting, digging, lifting, chopping, anything that the Mantooinians had asked his help with. Many of the ones he’d helped were now gulping water from canteens in the slim shadows a dozen metres away.

“That is the purpose of a Jedi. To give to others in whatever way we can.”

Jarren didn’t disagree with the sentiment, but it was hard for him to see how planting vegetables and fixing refreshers fulfilled a Jedi’s role. These were things that many beings could manage. A Knight had more important things to do.

Doubt must have shown on his face. The hulking Herglic glanced back over his shoulder as he made his way to the structure nearest the cliff’s edge.

“Come,” he said. “It’s your turn to explain things to me.”

Grunting, Jarren pushed himself to his feet from the rock on which he’d been sitting. He knew this wasn’t a scolding, Bajja had made clear in their brief conversations that he acknowledged Jarren as an equal, green as he was. Nonetheless he felt nervous.

In the Tion, the Jedi Knights were the martial arm of their community—guardians. A Knight and their Padawans were constantly gauging potential threats, responding to violent crises, and eliminating those deemed enemies of peace for the Tionese. Weapons were worn prominently, as Jarren wore his sword and pistol now.

It was the five Masters of the Tion that coordinated the various Knights and ensured that their work was not in conflict, though this was by no means a certainty. While the Force spoke to all Jedi, it did not always tell them the same things.

Sometimes Padawans disagreed with their masters. Sometimes close colleagues or friends would find themselves on opposing sides of these disagreements. And sometimes, in extreme circumstances, a Knight would have to kill the wayward Padawan.

That would not happen in the New Territories. Especially not to Jarren Darmond.

But this was not for Bajja to know just now, and from what the Herglic had said, a Jedi Knight was more of a servant where he came from. The Force apparently taboo. It seemed ridiculous, but so did the idea of a giant whale-man being a Jedi in the first place.

Jarren stepped through a half-built doorway into the shell of a building overlooking Laddenah and the Scar. Bajja waved him over to one of the few pieces of actual furniture up there, a sturdy looking wooden bench. Sturdy enough to support Bajja, anyway. The older Knight gestured outwards as Jarren sat beside him.

“When you cast your self aside and become one with Mantooine itself, Jarren, what do you feel?” he asked. The low hum of Bajja’s voice itself was soothing.

“I thought you didn’t use the Force?” Jarren answered, unable to keep a note of childish teasing out of his voice.

“We don’t. We let it in” he replied.

Jarren told him of what he had felt earlier that morning. How infinite, ceaseless currents joined all things, and how the people down below were strengthening those connections through their interactions.

“And where are you in all of this?” Bajja asked.

Hadn’t he just told Jarren to cast himself aside? Still, it was an interesting question. Jarren returned his focus to that higher awareness of all things. Through the stone, the trees, the buildings, the people, Bajja… and the void next to him.

“I’m… well, I’m not there,” Jarren heard, and must have said. This was confusing. He’d never sought himself out in the Force before, why would he? He was here. Why would he try to lift himself up by the collar of his tunic, either? It didn’t make sense.

Bajja seemed to expect this answer. “You feel the bonds between others, but you hold yourself separate” he hummed, nodding. “I sense you in the Force, nothing is wrong there. It is more that you are unwilling to—” the coming lecture was cut off prematurely by the growing rumble of engines. A blocky ship, a few hundred metres long and charcoal grey, was rapidly descending towards the Scar.

Within were several bright presences in the Force, shining like beacons towards Jarren and Bajja. The Jedi Knights of the Core were signalling their arrival.

 

Interesting characters. I love how Bajja teaches Jarren something about the settlement

 

Nice introduction to a culture on the cusp of trying to maintain itself while being thrust into the wider worldscapes. I enjoyed Jarren's reflections on what he is and will encounter.

 

Jedi Fest

A harmony of humming energy filled the audience chamber as the Knights of the Core once again performed the lah kai. It was the third such ceremonial display they had performed since reaching the New Territories, and the ninety-seventh that Kessenell Fest had performed in her lifetime.

Four durasteel blades: tinged with pale gold, ocean green, copper and deep blue spun and weaved between limbs, flowing fabric, and each other. Their wielders likewise ducked, stepped, rolled and flipped around the centre of the room, avoiding death or maiming by centimetres with every movement.

The lah kai was one of the Order’s oldest traditions, dating back millennia. Before Kess, tens of thousands of Knights had performed it, and she was sure millions more would do so long after she was gone. It required complete subsumption into the Force of others in the moment of execution, and intense, intricate planning during the days and weeks leading up to it.

In this instance, the planning process had been relatively straightforward. There were only four Jedi here, all with very similar physical capabilities, all being humanoid. Humanoid, Kess reflected, was an odd word to use, given that none of them were in fact human.

Kessenell Fest herself was the closest to that oh-so-hallowed race, being Arkanian in origin. Coruscant was her home however, thank the Force. Well, it had been, before the other Masters had voted.

Her heart almost skipped a beat as she felt her golden blade waver slightly off course. It veered just a little too close to Ittik’s crown of horns when he aerial cartwheeled past. Stray thoughts here were deadly.

Kess’s companions for the past two months were a mixture of species, temperaments, and beliefs. The Caamasi, Napar, was affable and kind-hearted in the manner that made his species so beloved. He had been chosen by the Masters of Caamas to help lead diplomatic missions across the New Territories, despite his spotty record of success. Apparently Napar had rubbed some people the wrong way back in the Core.

In this lah kai, he was portraying her opponent. His movements were smooth and fluid—probably why the viridian glow of his sabre reminded Kess of an ocean. Even in retreat, Napar managed to appear in complete control of the situation. As he hurried backward, his flowing teal and white robes hid his feet so that he appeared to float away.

To Kess’s left, Ittik and Zinn were demonstrating sai manoeuvres. Ittik, the stern Zabrak from Humbarine, leapt over repeated sweeping strikes made by Zinn, a Duros from Corellia. During the planning stages of the lah kai it had been decided that Ittik would perform the more acrobatic moves, as a way of demonstrating that even in a heavy suit of armour, a Jedi could be incredibly nimble. Zinn, relatively unencumbered, acted the brute.

In many ways, the two were similar. Both cared deeply for their worlds and the people who lived there. For them a Knight was a servant, and their temperaments reflected that. Where they differed was in how they performed that service.

Ittik Sard was a highly visible presence on Humbarine’s streets. In their brazen armour he and his comrades were always present before trouble could arise, and when it did, it was over quickly. Humbarine’s Jedi and, therefore, its people, were untouchable.

Zinn Yannata on the other hand seemed to hate being noticed. Eschewing the characteristic robes of the Order, she instead wore a dark trench coat as she travelled between the Five Brothers of the Corellian system, doing her best to help those worst affected by the region’s recent misfortunes. She and Kess had had many long conversations about that situation during their voyage.

Napar was back on the offensive, making precise diagonal slashes as he advanced, while Kess made a show of desperately fending him off. Several times she appeared close to losing her grip on her hilt. But the lack of telltale ringing of steel on steel betrayed the fact that their blades never actually made contact. The lah kai was a Jedi Art in every sense of the word, it wasn’t a sparring match.

Ittik and Kess continued their respective retreats until the four Knights formed a two metre by two metre square. Then as one, they stopped and turned to face the centre with swords at the ready. Their eyes connected; Zinn, Napar, Ittik. To the spectators, it must have looked adversarial, like outlaws preparing to draw and fire. It was anything but. If any of them were to be injured or killed in this exercise, it would be now. Far from a staredown, this was a meeting of wills.

In an instant, the air between them was a whirlwind of energised steel. All four blades spun and twirled at dazzling speeds, though the Knights remained firmly planted in place. Wonder, joy, and trepidation mingled in the crowd, frozen in awe yet turbulent in emotion. The Jedi though, were glacially calm despite the frenzy of swords.

In her palm, Kess felt her crystal sing with pure excitement in the Force. It wasn’t merely channeling her own suppressed feelings; the living stone was drawn to its counterparts, and with each near miss, every instant spent weaving that impossible pattern, the attraction grew stronger and the energy between them built. The audience chamber seemed to have a storm brewing in its centre; if that energy wasn’t released soon, at least one Knight would be walking away short an arm—if they walked away at all.

Just as they had started it, the Knights of the Core ended the lah kai in perfect unity. Each drew their weapon back, as if to strike a killing blow, then swung overhead into the very eye of the storm they had created. The swords connected with the tremendous sound of metallic thunder and a flash of light. It was the most euphonic sound to reach a Jedi’s ears, and for Kessenell Fest that feeling of wonder still hadn’t faded even thirty-five years after joining the Order.

That wondrous tone gradually faded, replaced with restrained, polite applause. Spread around the chamber’s perimeter were dozens of Mantell employees, Republic bureaucrats, and a smattering of Challat senators, the representatives of worlds not important enough to warrant an actual seat in the Senate.

To Kess it seemed a little backwards for them to be performing their own farewell. The four of them had spent the last two weeks in Mantooine’s orbit aboard Atrivis Station, home and headquarters for the administrators of this fledgling society, and she’d enjoyed this first visit well enough. Liaising with officials had, after all, been a constant feature of her days on Coruscant. Many friends had been made over the course of the Kymoodon chancellorship—hints of that old rapport had emerged on Atrivis, too. Even if they were few and far between.

Things had markedly changed in the past four years. Ranz Kymoodon was now dead, and his successor had turned out to be much less receptive to the ideas of the Coruscant Masters. It made for a very difficult situation on the Republic’s capital world.

Whereas the patient and reserved Ranz had engaged “Master Kessenell” and her colleagues in frank conversation, even contacting her for advice on occasion, Callan Horuz was prone to frustrated outbursts when discussion moved in what he deemed undesirable directions. Those he disagreed with were ordered out of the room and replaced by his subordinates. His yes-men.

He was certainly not the first Chancellor to have strained relations with the Jedi of Coruscant; any relationship lasting ten thousand years was sure to have its rough spots. However it had been a jarring shift. Horuz would invite Jedi Knights and Masters from far-flung worlds to discuss galactic affairs, but not those within shuttle distance. Yabol Opan, Caamasi, and of course, Alsakani ambassadors were welcomed. These visiting Jedi would then share any important developments with their Coruscanti counterparts, but it was an occasional source of tension between temples—no doubt by design.

The Chancellor was from Uviuy Exen, a world with strong ties to Coruscant’s ancient rival, Alsakan. Notably, Var Khoonda, the newly ascended Master of Mantooine and former Knight of Alsakan, had been among Horuz’s favourite confidants. He had always been cordial to Kess in their interactions, and she to him, but it still rankled to see their relative positions reversed in the way that they had been. So much time and effort, to now become Khoonda’s vassal. On Kess’s face, a grimace was trying its best to surface. She just barely suppressed it.

She needed to think positively. Mantooine was an unspoiled planet of forests, mountains and oceans, features that Coruscant had all but purged from itself long ago. It would be good to re-engage with the Living Force where it wasn’t bound by the endless steel confines of Galactic City.

On a raised platform, an immaculately-dressed man (Tarjis Yalt, one of Mantell’s missionaries, Kess recalled) began to speak.

“Knights of the Ninth Republic! Oh…” he theatrically checked his cue cards, shook his head, then reshuffled them. “I’m sorry. Tenth Republic!”

A polite chuckle came from the audience and from Napar. The joke was a tradition, dating back to the end of the last Coruscant-Alsakan war four centuries earlier. Until peace had been reached, Alsakan had ignored the Declaration of the Tenth Republic, and had instead insisted that they were in the Ninth. Kess’s skill at feigning laughter had faded in the exertion of the lah kai.

“It has been an immense honour to welcome you to the New Territories. During your time on Atrivis, you have reminded us why it is that the Jedi are so legendary. Your prowess in diplomacy,” he nodded toward Napar, but made eye contact with Kess, “research and investigation,” he nodded at Zinn, “and martial combat,” he gestured to all four Jedi, “are awe-inspiring. With your skills, combined with Axumite ingenuity,” he swept out his left arm to acknowledge the Mantell men, “we will not merely bring civilisation to the north, we will redefine it!”

This time the applause was much warmer. Sword-fighting Jedi were a relic, it seemed. What ignited passions here wasn’t the traditions of the old Republic, it was the promise of freedom, of self-reliance. Kess couldn’t blame them, she supposed. Independence as a concept was practically deified by many Core-worlders. Especially on planets like Axum, the headquarters of Mantell Corp. Nonetheless, the way Yalt described their mission concerned her.

He went on to contrast the New Territories with the Slice, that enormous wedge of space between the Perlemian Trade Route (or Axis, as he called it) and the Corellian Run. For millennia it had been plundered by Coruscant and Alsakan alike. But this time, Yalt promised, would be different.

“Because if history has taught us anything, it’s that the cost of inhumanity is far greater than any amount of credits made in the process.” As he said this, he looked right at the Arkanian, Caamasi, Zabrak and Duros, the irony apparently lost on him.

Yalt wrapped up his speech by heaping words of praise on the Chancellor—with some snide jabs at his late predecessor thrown in. He knew his audience, as did Kess, however it took more effort than she expected not to object to the insults—defending her deceased ally would be counter-productive here. Mercifully, Yalt fell silent and stood aside to allow a clear view of the large screen behind him.

At first, there was nothing to see but the dense cloud that enveloped Azure Titan, the ship chosen to ferry the Jedi Knights and other Mantell assets to the surface. Then, as if in a scripted holodrama, the mists dissipated to reveal the humble town of Laddenah, nestled on a mountainside.

What took Kess’s breath away was not the buildings, but the expanse of deep green spreading beyond the horizon. It would not have surprised her to be told that the trees were a million years old, so heavily did they dominate the landscape. Dominated it, that was, until one’s eyes reached the ugly, scorched forest’s edge, which abruptly became an enormous ferrocrete landing pad—Yalt Spaceport. Named after the father of their melodramatic host.

The four Knights had sheathed their weapons at the beginning of the younger Yalt’s speech, but now their hands returned to their hilts, making contact with the living crystal embedded within. Eyes closed, they projected their presences outwards.

Kessenell Fest poured out feelings of steadiness, security, and the promise of Republic ideals. Zinn radiated hope and prosperity; a better life. From Napar, joy, laughter and peace. And the ever-stoic Ittik projected his pledge to preserve order. Kess did notice though, that there was a slight edge to his presence in the Force. Peeking with one eye barely open, she saw him wince in pain. His wound still nagged at him.

From the world below, two bright lights answered. One with an oath of strength and support, the other with a flickering sense of protectiveness, zeal, but also confusion and doubt. Pann’s Padawan, then.

Kess and her colleagues opened their eyes, bowed, and strode from the chamber to prepare for their introductions.

———​

By the time Jarren and Bajja reached the Scar, the unloading of the Mantell ship was already well underway. Hundreds of dockworkers and drones ferried huge containers back and forth, and in the distance Jarren could see a crowd forming around some of the newly-arrived equipment, which included several repulsor sleds.

Maybe Bajja could borrow some for the temple project. The Herglic seemed to be looking in every other direction, though.

Both Knights were now wearing more formal attire befitting the occasion. Jarren had again donned his sand-beige cloak, which helpfully hid the patches of sweat on his back and under his arms. Hopefully Core Jedi didn’t customarily embrace their new comrades.

Bajja meanwhile, had thrown on a pure white tunic, pants, and a cape of emerald green. It was possibly the first time he had done so, judging by the obvious fold creases.

From within the shadowed depths of the Mantell ship a surprisingly flimsy-looking staircase had emerged—little more than a few railings on one side with steps jutting out. It looked so precarious, Jarren couldn’t help imagining one of the Knights tripping on their robes and falling off the side. A ridiculous and unwelcome thought, but darkly humorous.

There were four of them descending. They were led by an Iridonian wearing heavy bronzium armour, followed by a snouted Caamasi swathed in deep teal, a slim Duros woman in a charcoal trench coat, and the once-Master of Coruscant Kessenell Fest bringing up the rear.

A pale Arkanian, Fest was intimidating even if one ignored her prior lofty position. Dark maroon robes swirled about a tall, lean woman in leather armour worn over the typical off-white tunic and pants. She also wore an easy, reassuring smile.

Fest’s eyes, however, were consistently drawn back to the treeline beyond the Scar. Whereas Jarren’s sense from the forests had been that of malignity and loathing, the once-Master seemed awed. It was understandable, he supposed, considering how little nature was left on Coruscant.

Fest’s mystique was almost broken when Jarren thought he saw her stumble. Something about the trees had seemingly affected her, too. Perhaps his earlier intrusive thought had been a vision, and she was about to fall to an undignified death, and they would need to send back to the Core for a replacement Knight.

No. Fortunately she recovered immediately, and her attention was now most firmly fixed on their small welcoming committee. Beside Bajja and Jarren stood the surface operations managers of the handful of firms represented on Mantooine, as well as the Republic’s planetside representative, a Balosar named Jeen Hals.

Hals was one of the few holdovers from when the Mantooine project had been a Kymoodon endeavour. Where once he was to be given the powers of a governor, under Chancellor Horuz he found himself reduced to essentially being a go-between. It had become common knowledge that the real power in the New Territories wasn’t here in Laddenah, but in the company offices up on Atrivis Station.

Nevertheless the Balosar still had ceremonial duties to perform.

“Ittik Sard! Napar Heq’uuj! Zinn Yannata! Kessenell Fest! On behalf of the Tenth Galactic Republic I welcome you to the colony of Laddenah, Mantooine.”

The words may have been different but Jarren recognised the cue. He drew his sword from its scabbard and raised it high in salute. From beside him he heard a deep “Oh!” followed by the chime of Bajja’s kyber responding to his touch, as he raised his own much larger weapon. The Caamasi grinned, revealing unsettlingly sharp fangs.

Each surf-op manager now took it in turns to welcome the new arrivals, with an obsequiousness inversely proportional to their company’s influence. Sestin Technologies’ man practically grovelled, while the woman from Mantell spoke to the four Knights as equals. Though he couldn’t speak for Bajja, Jarren noticed that he certainly hadn’t gotten this treatment on landing here.

Finally, the Jedi were able to speak.

“Thank you all, it is a pleasure to meet you,” said the Caamasi, Napar, with well-practised politeness. Visibly relaxing, he faced Jarren and Bajja directly. “Especially our new comrades! It’s been too long since we’ve had any non-corpos to talk to!”

A mix of polite chuckles and unamused grunts sounded to Jarren’s left.

“It’s a term of endearment I assure you,” Napar said placatingly. “I will be honoured to properly make your acquaintances tonight, as planned, but for now Jedi Sard, Yannata, Fest and I must become acquainted with Mantooine itself.”

With that dismissal, everyone but the Jedi and Hals shuffled off. It obviously hadn’t been the experience the ‘corpos’ had hoped for, but that would have to wait until Master Khoonda arrived.

“So,” Fest said, “Bajja, Jarren, where’s this temple of ours?”

 

I like how you introduce the four Jedi ready to join Jarren and Bajja on Mantooine

 

Catching up with your two latest chapters...

Thos continues to be a very intriguing story, and you're doing an amazing job at showing us this older, wilder galaxy where the training of Jedi isn't centralised, as we see with Jarren Darmond who was trained on his homeworld, and where different branches of the Order have different philosophies as show by Jarren's conversation with Bajja in "Newcomers". Similarly, you really give us a sense of what you mean with your title with the description of Mantooine in this same chapter, with the idea that the planet itself is resisting being settled by colonists. Yet the ominous sense about the role of these corporations that are tasked with clearing the frontier is still there, as it was in the prologue. Between the idea that they went for orbital bombardment to clear a landing area and that the higher-ups are on a space station while the little people are on the ground, there's clearly an element of barbarism to all this process and a class of Lumpenproletariat in the making, and I think I can already say the proverbial "I have a bad feeling about this" already...

... and that feeling was further confirmed with the details about the politics of this era that you give us in "Jedi Fest". It was such an inspired idea to introduce us to this new cast of Jedi characters through their performance of lah kai, and I'll have you know that I went running to the Wook to find out more about it, only to realise that it's your brainchild. Fantastic, fantastic writing here; a beautiful insight into how a team of Jedi work together in the Force while exposing the idiosyncrasies of each one of them, the possible source of tensions (and man, I'm pretty sure that things will go to the dogs when Var Khoonda turns up) and the things that make them tick. But what struck me is that this beautiful and ultimately very introspective scene was essentially wrapped in the political manoeuvring of the chancellor and the corporations, both on the space station and once our heroes reach the ground. Napar is certainly a bold diplomat in saying that his priority is to know the planet rather than his hosts, and I'm wondering if that will come to bite him in the butt.

All caught up! I'll be around for your next chapter, whenever it comes.

 

Gorgeously compelling ceremony! I liked getting more insights into the political and economic situation. Now that the Jedi team is assembled, things will definitely get more intense.

 

Thank you so much for the review! I'm very glad to read that those aspects of the chapter were effective, I'm still struggling to approach my own writing from the perspective of the reader so that's encouraging

I was especially pleased that the lah kai read as a pre-existing bit of lore. One of my favourite things about fanfic is how they inform/alter our perceptions of canonical elements. I assume we're all trying to sneak into each other's headcanons here! Hopefully I'm subtle enough to plant a few things here and there.

There's a lot going on in the galaxy (as always) during this fairly unexplored period, so the story being on the fringes lets me sprinkle details in without overwhelming myself. Glad the lah kai was interesting enough—one example of me making references more in my own head than in the written text is that the final "whirlwind" where the Jedi are facing each other was me trying to explain that part of the Mustafar duel.

Thank you both so much for your responses, I owe you each at least one from me

 

Misgivings

Ittik Sard had never been much for conversation. That was very much the domain of Kessenell, Napar, and to a lesser extent, Zinn. What he did do was observe, and it was immediately obvious to him that the people running this colonisation project did not want the Jedi to be doing much except sitting in their temple and meditating. Hence why they were here, walking up a mountain path, rather than in the fledgling cities of Sestooine, or supervising the placement of hyperspace beacons.

Of course their time on Atrivis Station had been very hospitable, Kessenell had made all the right friends, and Napar had managed to lose some of them. Ittik himself had been treated well, but the conversations he’d been involved in had been stilted and empty. Neither Mantell, Sestin, Dantar nor anyone else had anything to tempt or cow a Jedi Knight from Humbarine, and they knew it. So they hadn’t put in the effort.

Had the presence of a Humbarine Knight in the New Territories not already been decided upon long ago, Ittik was sure that Horuz and his cronies would have chosen a Jedi from Yabol Opa, or pushed for another from the Tion to be sent out here. Because much like Coruscant and Alsakan, Humbarine was one of the original founders of the Galactic Republic, secure in its position, and not able to be intimidated by any bigger fish.

Caamas and Corellia, meanwhile, were in less certain situations right now, even though they too, were Core Founders. Ittik had not been able to glean every detail of Napar and Zinn’s meetings, but Kessenell had assured him that the four Knights were on the same page. That remained to be seen.

Now there was this odd pair: Jarren Darmond and Bajja… well, the Herglic. The kid was unsure of himself, anyone could tell that from orbit—literally, if the Force was with them. He’d only just been Knighted, then he’d been thrust to the back of beyond. It was understandable. Kessenell was talking to him now; apparently they had a mutual friend.

“I knew Cardess when we were Padawans in the Core,” she was saying, “her ability to study and understand vastly different cultures was impressive, even then. It doesn’t surprise me that she has proven so invaluable to the Tion Jedi.”

Indeed, Cardess Pann was renowned for being cosmopolitan on a multi-sector scale. She was also known for her martial prowess, a topic that Kessenell tactfully avoided, given the incident last year. Even within the upstanding circles of the Jedi Order, people talked.

“She has, Master,” the boy Jarren replied. He winced at his mistaken use of her former title. Kessenell noticed his discomfort.

“Being a Knight again doesn’t worry me Jarren, truly,” she reassured him. “But please do call me Kessenell.”

From up ahead, Napar stopped speaking with the Republic resident Hals to shout behind him, “Not Kess?”

“Being introduced as Kess Fest tends to invite unwanted jokes, I’ve found” she said, with a pointed and exaggerated glare at the Caamasi. Truly, Ittik thought, if the consortium intended to sabotage the Jedi mission, Napar was their greatest weapon. Whether he knew it or not.

Kessenell continued; “Cardess knew me as Kess, and she went by Dess back then, so of course—”

Napar piped up with something else that Ittik chose to ignore.

From what Ittik understood, Kessenell hoped to take the young Knight under her wing. Jarren had shown great promise as a Guardian of the Tion, but his faith had been badly shaken by his Mentor’s rash actions. The Jedi of Raxus were commendably dedicated to keeping their worlds safe, however they sometimes took that role to extremes beyond what even Humbarine’s Masters felt was necessary.

Mercifully, Napar returned his attention to Mister Hals. Jarren’s focus had drifted beyond the spaceport to the densely-packed trees.

“Kessenell,” he began, “did you sense anything from the forest as you arrived?”

“Like what?”

“I… I saw you looking out there when you disembarked, you almost stumbled.”

Kessenell looked down, embarrassed. “I’d hoped no one had noticed.” She looked back at the boy. “But no, I didn’t sense anything unusual. The open space just overwhelmed me for a moment. Why? What have you felt from it?”

He gazed past the landed Azure Titan again. “A malevolence. Stronger near the Scar—I mean the spaceport. Something on Mantooine doesn’t want us to be here.”

At this point, Ittik lost interest. Many Padawans felt these “dark presences.” More often than not they turned out to be a misinterpretation of the learner’s own insecurities. He was sure this was much the same.

Zinn, meanwhile, was engaging Bajja in conversation about the people of Laddenah town. Who the biggest names were, what they did, what the culture was like, and how far into Mantooine’s wilds the locals had explored. She was fascinated by people’s daily lives, the struggles they faced, the dreams they had. Ittik cared too, but he didn’t find what old Mister Serrigan down the street had for breakfast to be an especially riveting subject.

Zinn was one of the Knights set to be stationed here whom Ittik had known by reputation long before Mantooine was even a prospect. The others being Master Khoonda, Kessenell, Othani, Alneus, and Sikani.

Right. Sikani. The Devaronian who had reportedly come damn close to challenging Zinn to a duel before fleeing down the Trade Spine to Harrin. Luckily, interpersonal drama was always a welcome addition to Jedi temple life, it never ended poorly. Except of course, for all of the times it ended terribly.

“It’s just up ahead,” Bajja declared. For the last several minutes, the stony path had become so narrow that the group had chosen to travel single file. Not ideal for any official visitors to the temple in the future. Isolation was well and good for meditation and study, but that was not why Ittik had been sent to Mantooine. He could have hidden away just as well within the city of Humbar.

Nor did the ‘temple’ of half-finished rock walls impress him as it came into view. If this settlement had been here for roughly six years, then surely adequate lodgings could have been arranged for Jedi Knights?

This was clearly where Jeen Hals’s mind went as well.

“We have quarters for you in the Republic building that will suit your needs until your temple is completed,” he said. “I wasn’t aware that there was one being built.” He turned to Bajja. “Whatever equipment and personnel you need for construction will be provided, Sir Bajja.”

The Herglic looked mildly offended, though he tried to hide it.

“That’s very generous, Mister Hals,” he rumbled. “But I have all of the help that I need, now that my fellow Jedi are here. And the temple is a Knight’s home, even before it is completed.”

This was news to Ittik, and apparently to the other Core Jedi, and Jarren as well. Their silent objections shot through the Force like jarred nerves. Napar almost groaned audibly, and Ittik couldn’t entirely blame him. Purposely having a miserable night’s sleep wouldn’t help anyone, so why insist on it? As she often did, Kessenell was first to speak up.

“I think that’s a very noble sentiment, Bajja. Maybe though, we should wait until the remaining Jedi have arrived before we move in.”

Zinn added, “It’s been a long couple of months of travel, and we aren’t quite ready to brave Mantooine’s elements.” She turned and looked down the mountainside. “And we have a lot of people to meet. I think the temple can wait.”

Bajja nodded. “I understand. You have things to do in town, and the ways of Foless aren’t the same as those of the Core.”

“I appreciate that,” replied Kessenell. “You’re welcome to join us, of course. I’m sure Mister Hals has room for you,” she looked to the Balosar.

Hals’s antennapalps quivered but he was otherwise not visibly perturbed. “Absolutely. I had been under the impression that you would all be living within the Republic quarter.”

“I suppose we’ll discuss that when the others get here,” Kessenell said. “Core Jedi tend to stay in the population centres, but many Jedi of the Rim live in temples that are more isolated. It is believed that the will of the Force is better understood that way.”

Hals’s face showed confusion at “will of the Force,” and the Herglic’s offended look returned at Kessenell’s use of the phrase “it is believed.”

Early days, Ittik reminded himself, early days.

———​

Jarren watched the Knights of the Core as they returned down the mountain. By now the sun was descending, and Bajja was busy lighting a fire on the leeward side of one of the temple walls.

The four newcomers were friendly enough, much more so than many Knights of the Tion, yet Jarren found them harder to warm up to than Bajja. Though to be fair, Jarren felt camaraderie came more easily when sharing a demanding physical task than it did during stilted introductions and the strict following of diplomatic etiquette.

His Mentor, Cardess Pann, had never emphasised protocol during his training—she’d seemed uncomfortable with it herself. Jedi Fest describing her as an old friend had been doubly surprising then. Pann had never discussed her relationship with one of Coruscant’s great political movers.

So Jarren, not yet ready to be the further subject of Kessenell Fest’s attention, had chosen to remain at the temple for the night, delighting Bajja. The clap on the back the Herglic had given him had almost sent Jarren face-first into the dirt.

Napar, the Caamasi snark addict, had also volunteered to stay, once he returned from meeting the surf-op managers. That had not been the impression given off so far, and the Iridonian Jedi had seemed frankly astonished by the offer. Based on what Jarren had been told by some of the Jedi Consulars of Lianna, however, there was every possibility that the function could last into the following morning, and that Napar had never intended to stay at the temple.

It didn’t really matter whether the Caamasi returned that night. They had the rest of their lives to get to know each other.

For Bajja, there was no time like the present. “How far have they gotten?” he asked.

The Knights were just passing the nearest of Laddenah’s buildings, the Republic sheriff’s office which overlooked the rest of the settlement. Jarren relayed this information.

“Not as quick as I thought they’d be,” Bajja said. “What do you think of them?”

Now this was a tough question, almost as tough as the Herglic’s earlier probing about Jarren’s relationship to the Force. Not as difficult to answer, but difficult to find the right answer.

Seemingly following his line of thought, Bajja assured him, “They’re new to me too, I won’t be offended for them, and I won’t share anything you say.”

Jarren hesitated. “The Iridonian…”

“Ittik.”

“Ittik. He’s the closest to what I would consider a quintessential Jedi.”

Bajja sat silent, waiting for the rest.

“In most of the Tion, a Jedi Knight would never be seen without his weapon. He is a defender of peace, an enforcer of order,” Jarren’s hand wound dismissive circles, “and about eight other things. I made the oath when I was ten.”

“Hmmm,” Bajja rumbled. His back had straightened, and he’d stopped stoking the fire, which hardly needed it anymore now, anyway.

Jarren continued; “Ittik projects strength. When you see him in that intricate bronzium armour, you see the strength of the society he protects. You see an ancient, prosperous, powerful civilisation.”

“And him, personally?”

“He didn’t really say enough for me to form an impression. Napar frustrates him, and he still seems very guarded around Fest and Yannata.” He shrugged, “or maybe that’s just the armour I’m seeing.”

“Maybe,” Bajja said. “But ‘guarded’ was my thought as well. What about Kess Fest?” A slight smirk appeared at the rhyme.

Jarren huffed out a laugh. “I think she’s… I think she’s trying a bit too hard.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know she and Jedi Pann were friends, but the interest in my training, the banter with Napar… it felt forced, I guess.”

Sparks leapt from the fire as more wood was added. Whatever it was that made the trees of the forest nigh-indestructible was obviously absent up here. Something in the soil, perhaps. Bajja’s eyes no longer met Jarren’s as he replied.

“To me she seemed genuinely interested. I’d have been curious about a friend’s apprentice too. There’s something else to this distrust of yours.”

There wasn’t. Otherwise Jarren would know right away. Kessenell Fest was trying to gain his trust now, before Master Khoonda arrived, because—

“She’s worried about Coruscant losing control of the New Territories to Alsakan,” Jarren said to himself, loud enough for Bajja to hear.

“Well, yes,” he replied plainly. “That is a concern for her, I agree. It doesn’t explain away her curiosity though. Because forgive me, Jedi Darmond,” Bajja leaned in close, carefully placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “but you aren’t that important.”

After that hard landing, the discussion topic shifted to the Corellian Duros, Zinn Yannata. She’d spent the last decade since her knighting travelling across the Corellian system, Bajja explained, doing what she could to make life easier for the citizens of that impoverished region. There was obvious reverence in the Herglic’s voice, and it reminded Jarren of what he had neglected to ask so far.

“Bajja, did you say that you were from Foless?”

“I trained there. My homeworld is called Errni, not far from Kooda.”

“I don’t know where Foless is, much less Errni or Kooda,” Jarren admitted.

“It’s on the Trade Spine, outer edge of the Colonies. Halfway through Corellian territory.”

That made things clear as mud, but it was enough for Jarren to understand that Foless sat about as far as one could get from the Tion Cluster while remaining in charted space. If it was a Corellian colony, the Jedi there would probably have very little stake in the other Core Worlds’ vying for power. Errni would be even further out and even less concerned, most likely. But that information would have to wait, since Bajja was now assembling some kind of rack, which he placed over the flames.

“Dinner!” the Herglic cried, and strode further down the wall. Atop one of the stone blocks lay a parcel, purchased during the trip to the Scar—or Yalt Spaceport, as the Atrivis people called it. Inside was the plucked and butchered remains of some Mantooinian bird. On the grill it went.

The meat was bland on its own, to the point that Bajja went foraging for something to flavour it, to no avail. So the two tolerated their meal and traded stories of their respective homeworlds. Herglic life made little sense to Jarren, and he was sure the same could be said for Bajja about Raxus, but it provided a welcome distraction from aching muscles and tasteless food.

Three hours of darkness passed before Napar returned. His previous mirth was muted by exhaustion, and his wit had been dulled by Shawkenese wine. Aside from a comment about Bajja “not settling Foless,” he seemed a very different Jedi from only hours earlier. But one thing he said as he laid out his bedroll grabbed Jarren’s attention.

“Early start tomorrow. Dantar’s lawyers want to meet with me back on Atrivis Station,” he sighed. “Would have been nice to know that before we gave our big goodbye performance.”

Lawyers? Surely tonight’s event hadn’t gone that poorly? Napar may not have been a typical example of his people, but he had still been appointed to his position with good reason, Jarren assumed.

Bajja chuckled. “Mister Vell didn’t appreciate your advances?”

Napar looked appalled. “I don’t know what impression I’ve given you both, but I do take my role very seriously. It would be extremely detrimental to our mission for me to try to flirt with anyone as important as Ruun Vell. Sestin’s guy maybe, or the SOM from Zyrincorp…”

His attention was drifting, and Jarren’s curiosity still hadn’t been satisfied.

“What do they want to see you for then?”

“They want to strategise before we leave for Dantara. Negotiating land and resource use, that sort of thing.”

This answer had only raised more questions, but Napar had no interest in answering them now. He had settled himself in for the night and pointedly turned away from the other two.

“I’ll tell you more in the morning,” he said. “May you sleep peacefully.”

———​

For the most part, it was a restful first night at Laddenah’s Republic headquarters. The only interruption had been a few pebbles striking Kess’s window two hours past midnight. Napar Heq’uuj had been too cold up the mountain, and wanted to be let in.

Kess understood Ittik’s irritation with the man; Napar tended to act oblivious or uninterested in how others reacted to him, giving an impression of insensitivity. This was not the truth, though. There was a reason behind every word the Caamasi said. Kess looked forward to gaining a better understanding of him, and learning what sort of future he envisioned for the New Territories.

Now she sat with a cup of caf pleasantly warming her hands against Mantooine’s pervasive morning chill, which had managed to reach her even within the formal dining room of the Republic building. Behind a pair of glass doors ahead of her, a small balcony overlooked an enclosed garden. It was filled with flowers, bushes, and small trees from many Republic worlds.

Coruscant, Kess had noted, was not represented. It couldn’t have been; the city planet hadn’t had any native plant life for tens of thousands of years. The rare examples of greenery—some of them glimpsed through her mother’s Manarai apartment windows—were all from foreign worlds—the Southern Slice primarily. Anything from near the Perlemian had been systematically wiped out by jingoistic zealots during the Alsakan Wars.

Something shifted. Not visibly, but within the Force. Something was wrong.

Kess put down her half-empty cup of caf and strode around the dining table towards the balcony. She gently unlocked and opened one of the glass doors, giving the frigid wind an opportunity to rush inside. Her steps made the barest pads on the stone, her robes the lightest ruffle. Yet in the silence of the dawn they might as well have been a Mantell cruiser’s engines to her ears.

Now that Kess could see the entire garden, she could see what had perturbed her. A robed figure, grey in the dim morning light, knelt as if in prayer. Their presence was… familiar, but different. Like she’d revisited a place, and discovered a vast distance between memories and the truth. Like Arkania. Kess vaulted the balcony railing.

When her boots hit the ground she was certain that the stranger had heard her, so she gave up the pretense of stealth. There was about twenty metres between them, and Kess approached in a casual stroll. The figure rose to their feet, revealing a sword on the ground in front of them. A Jedi. Not Zinn or Ittik, they didn’t wear robes in this style. Napar had already left for the orbital station, and the towering Bajja could be dismissed out of hand. So what was Jarren doing—

Something came swinging at her from behind and to the right. Kess rolled away to her left, leapt back to her feet, and cast aside her deep maroon cloak. In a fraction of a second her sword was drawn, emanating its golden aura.

The robes hadn’t moved. Nor, presumably, had Jarren. What was with the kid? Had the mention of Cardess Pann yesterday set something off? A rage he’d repressed for a year? Or was it this dark presence he’d felt among the trees that had somehow corrupted him?

Kess still hadn’t seen what had come at her. Not the sword in front of Jarren, it hadn’t moved. A second attacker?

It came again. This time she spun towards it and met it blade to blade. Her opponent’s weapon was held by thin air—the Force—and glowed with a deep purple hue. Now that she saw it, it was a simple matter to seize it in a Force grip of her own and call it to her left hand.

“Very impressive, Jedi Fest,” said a voice deeper and more refined than Jarren’s. Kess should have realised it wasn’t him the instant she’d had to roll away. “I’ve missed our sparring sessions.”

By now the sun of Mantooine had risen a little higher, and Kess could make out the colour of the stranger’s robe. It was a kind of dull mauve, not one that she’d seen before.

But she knew the face that greeted her as the figure turned around. Jedi Master Var Khoonda had slipped in during the dead of night.

Now his hand was on Kess’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to have missed the lah kai,” he said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, “but I was needed elsewhere.”

Khoonda’s focus snapped to something within the building. Striding away from Kess, he continued speaking to her all the while.

”Besides, with the formalities over, now we can get down to work.”

 

Great to see more details about the Mantooine civilisation through the eyes and conversation between your Jedi. Jarren is a likeable young character.

 

I like Ittik's observations. Jarren's distrust of Kess's interest has a fascinating context after reading "One Less Apprentice".

Interesting closing scene with Khoonda's arrival, like he's sneaking in.

 

Just been working on a little bit of exposition by Khoonda that explains the geography (astrography?) a bit more. In the prologue Khoonda was on one of Dantar's planets which is further to the north (whereas Mantooine is predominantly Mantell's). I'm without my Essential Guides at the moment which is slowing me down a little

I'm finding the challenges to be a fun way of developing the characters' backstories, but I'll have to make sure it doesn't feel like part of this fic is missing.

 

Conditions

Kessenell Fest was still registering the Master’s sudden appearance when he called out.

“Are you coming?”

Khoonda’s brow furrowed at her hesitation. He was standing in a sitting room which looked out onto the garden. It was meant to provide a relaxed yet formal atmosphere. There would be no relaxing now. That was not Var Khoonda’s way.

Kess followed swiftly behind him. As he walked, Khoonda pulled a comm device from his belt and pressed a button on its side. She could faintly hear Ittik and Zinn’s comms chirping from nearby rooms. Khoonda didn’t look back as he spoke to her.

“Is Napar the only one not in Laddenah?” He made a sharp turn into the Republic building’s conference room.

“Knights Bajja and Darmond stayed on the mountain last night,” she replied.

The conference room was windowless and intimate. Fifteen chairs barely fit around a metal table, a holoprojector was set in the centre. With the Force, Khoonda pulled a chair for Kess; with his hands he pulled one for himself. As he sat down he sighed.

“Bajja digging a well, is he?”

Kess breathed out a laugh, but did not take the offered seat just yet. “No, no. They and some of the townspeople have been building our temple. It’s a beautiful spot Var.”

Whether it was her use of his first name, the delay in beginning the ‘work,’ Jarren and Bajja’s taking initiative, or a combination of those, Khoonda visibly went from impatient to irritated. He pulled out his comm again.

“Hals, can you send a transport to collect Jedi Bajja and Darmond please?”

A muffled and sleepy affirmative came back, and Khoonda replaced the comm. In that moment of quiet he closed his eyes, making a visible effort to compose himself. He looked up.

“I’m sorry, Kessenell,” he said. “The trip back from Dantar’s forest world took longer than I expected. There isn’t much time to prepare.” He gave another unconvincing smile. “You’ll have much to teach me about being a Master.”

Kess hoped she was doing a better job with her own smile. “I’m sure I will. We don’t usually greet our Knights by throwing swords at them, for one thing.”

Finally, his expression relaxed. “No, it's not common on Alsakan either. When you’ve spent that long away from other Jedi, though, your sword arm gets a bit restless.”

Before Kess could ask just what it was they needed to prepare for, Ittik Sard and Zinn Yannata entered the room. The Force rippled with the pair’s surprise at seeing their new Master.

Ittik gave a kind of salute, his hand barely touching one of his lower horns. He was wearing a set of loose fitting robes; Kess wouldn’t have been surprised to find his armour still beneath it. Zinn bowed to Khoonda. The Duros, Kess noted, wore her prized leather vest over the more standard tunic and pants. Zinn had explained that it had been made specially for her, using the hide of a deadly reptile native to one of Corellia’s neighbours. To each their own.

Master Khoonda and Kessenell Fest got to their feet. Khoonda approached the Zabrak Knight first.

“Jedi Sard, it is an honour and a privilege to welcome you as a Knight of the New Territories.” The two clasped each other by the forearm. “Humbarine’s loss is Mantooine’s gain.”

Khoonda turned to Zinn. “Jedi Yannata, your selfless dedication to the people of the Republic is an example to all of us. Thank you for being here.” Looking down, he belatedly noticed Zinn’s outstretched hand. The forearm clasp was repeated, albeit more stiffly.

The whole exchange reminded Kess of many conversations she’d had on Atrivis Station—pleasant, but rehearsed. Var Khoonda was very comfortable around the Knights of Alsakan and the industrialists of Axum and the Perlemian, but around other Jedi trained under different structures and traditions, it was understandably difficult to know how to act. This was new ground for all of them.

Taking inspiration from the absent Napar, Kess opted to return to the comfort of her seat. The others followed her lead.

“So, Master Khoonda,” Kess said, “I see we’re building the temple ourselves! Please tell me Laddenah doesn’t have a building inspector, I’m not exactly qualified.”

“It was supposed to be constructed already,” Khoonda replied, “I assume Bajja insisted on doing it himself. He’s developed an interstellar reputation for stubbornness.”

Ittik concurred with that assessment. When pressed on his thoughts about Jarren and Napar though, he paused.

“The boy’s still a Padawan, really. What happened with Jedi Pann and the girl has affected him deeply. I won’t babysit him, but he will need guidance. Now, Napar…”

What followed were the most uninterrupted words Kess believed she’d ever heard from Ittik. He wasn't exactly unfair to Napar, but nor did he hide his misgivings about the Caamasi’s potential as an ambassador for the Jedi Order. How, Ittik asked, were they supposed to recruit Initiates to the Mantooine temple if Napar got them chased off-planet half the time?

This new ease of conversation was encouraging, despite its direction. Kess hadn’t been sure what to expect, especially given the oddly furtive nature of Khoonda’s entrance. Now though, they had a starting point, and the Knights of Mantooine could move forward. Even if a mere third of them were present so far.

———​

Jarren and Bajja had been debating how best to lay out the temple complex when a treaded transport arrived to tell them to get down to Laddenah now. The two Knights climbed aboard, taking care that Bajja’s weight wouldn’t end up tipping them over.

Their driver was a scruffy middle-aged man who introduced himself as Bennic—introduced himself to Jarren anyway, Bajja already seemed to know everyone. Bennic was responsible for managing inventory at Sestin’s warehouse just off “Yalt’s Scar,” as he called it. An unhappy medium between the names used by Atrivis and Laddenah.

The Mountain Crawler was his, and like its owner, it looked accustomed to living rough. Bennic had bought it from Sestin Technologies, and he used it for hunting the hardy herbivores that lived among the cliffs. He shot birds in the forest, too. The tasteless fowl from the previous night had been killed with Bennic’s slugthrower.

Between the sound of the motor and the continuous crunch of stone under the treads, proper conversation was impossible. Instead, Jarren considered what he knew of Master Var Khoonda as the Republic headquarters came into view.

Khoonda was human, born in the late four-seventies: so in his mid-forties. Alsakani-born, he had been trained in the ancient traditions of the Rucapar Knights, noble heroes hailed more as leaders of the people than servants. In centuries past, some Knights and Masters had pledged themselves to specific bloodlines, even battling other Jedi if their ‘duty’ required it. Such choices had earned those traitors a sentence of exile.

Since the peace began, Alsakan’s Knights had fallen more in line with the rest of the Order, despite the absence of a Grand Master. Unlike the Knights of the Tion, who had grown increasingly isolated. The neighbouring presence of Ossus, cradle of the Order, meant little to Raxus.

Master Khoonda himself had been an important link between Alsakan and Coruscant, Chancellor Horuz was supposedly a close friend of. Now Khoonda had been tasked with linking the New Territories to galactic civilisation as a whole. So had Jarren.

Bennic came to a stop not far beyond the sheriff’s office. Any further and the duracrete buildings started to bunch up a little too closely for the crawler to continue.

“This is your stop boys! That’ll be a credit and a half each.” Bennic held out a beggar’s hand.

Jarren had little money on him, but Bajja’s reaction suggested the words had only been meant in jest.

“Charge it to Master Var Khoonda,” he said, “You know where he lives!” Bajja’s giant hand made as if to come down on the driver’s palm, and Bennic quickly snatched it back before the arm could be broken.

Bennic laughed, waved, and trundled away. He didn’t get far before he was intercepted by a smiling figure emerging from the sheriff’s office, and judging by his reaction it wasn’t for a speeding ticket. Bajja made his way into the narrow pedestrian streets, and Jarren followed.

From what Jarren had experienced during this first week, Laddenah had a very friendly character to it, to the extent that he wasn’t entirely sure whether to trust it. Whereas Bajja thrived in such a community, for Jarren it was far too small. There were only a few thousand people living here, including the Jedi. When conflict happened, it would be between people who were intimately familiar to each other, and to Jarren as well. That worried him.

Guardians of the Tion didn’t stay for caf and conversation, they moved on to the next planet.

There weren’t many people out and about the town at such an early hour, but Jarren spied the occasional early riser tending to what little outdoor space they had, watering plants and pulling weeds. These were hobbyists, working to their own standards. It was doubtful that any of them were qualified or approved by Hals’ office, and the result was that each plot in Laddenah was different from the last. It was ugly by Raxus standards, but it had a charm to it.

Coming to the end of a particularly cramped alley, the two Jedi came to a public square—the public square, open space was rare in Laddenah. The Republic building, easily the largest single structure around, dominated the scene.

Bajja shook his head. “Can you believe this is what our temple could have looked like? All metal and duracrete. Might as well work in an office building.”

It looked like it kept the heat in at night far better than Bajja’s bricks, but Jarren simply hummed assent.

They edged past a market stall where some bug-eyed green beings (‘Rodians,’ Jarren believed they were called) were arranging freshly killed animals in what they must have thought was an appealing display. It was this final sight that stuck in Jarren’s mind as he prepared to begin the rest of his life.

———​

To Kess, Ittik seemed put out. She and Zinn were amused.

Ittik’s recounting of Napar Heq’uuj’s sense of humour had lightened the mood at the table considerably. Khoonda seemed to find Napar hilarious, even second-hand. Once Ittik had realised this, his willingness to share Napar’s jokes steadily decreased, and Zinn had filled the Master in on the details of their time on Atrivis, with anecdotes of Napar’s interactions—successful and less so—peppered in.

Her descriptions of the administrators’ proposals were uncharacteristically animated, her large red eyes even wider than usual. Kess hadn’t realised just how sincerely Zinn had bought into Mantell’s vision.

“The beacon network is very impressive, considering Mantell’s been here barely a decade,” Zinn said. “It took many of the Grand Companies centuries to accomplish similar feats.”

“It has been two thousand years since those days,” Khoonda noted, “I think it’s fair to expect some improvement during that time. There’s also the fact that we’re no longer at war.”

Kess blinked. The First Alsakan War had started with clashes between Duros-owned freighters and Alsakani warships. She could understand if Var identified with Alsakan, but Zinn’s species had nothing to do with her allegiances. If anything, she was Corellian first. Then again, maybe Kess had mistaken Khoonda’s meaning.

Zinn didn’t seem to think so. “We never were. Corellia has always been neutral. Unfortunately, neutrality hasn’t been good for the shipyards, and now we’re being shut out of the colonisation efforts too.”

Khoonda’s response to this was swift but exasperated. “Jedi Yannata, when we agreed to serve the Order on Mantooine, it was in the knowledge that our former attachments would be left behind. Corellia’s misfortunes are no longer your concern.”

Zinn seemed ready to provide a retort. She had visibly tensed, as if about to leap into an argument bodily as well as verbally. Kess sent a gentle nudge of warning through the Force. She hadn’t yet seen Zinn become agitated, and their first briefing was certainly not the time for it. Unity, even a flawed unity, was needed.

That said, Kess herself wasn’t sure where she stood on the issue.

In a way Master Khoonda was right, but so was Zinn. A Jedi was duty-bound to serve the worlds they were assigned to first and foremost. If helping the people of the New Territories hurt the people of Corellia, so be it. However, the destitution there was at crisis point already. And Khoonda could hardly claim to be blind to how his actions were benefitting Alsakan and its allies.

But it was the Master who decided when discussion was over. So it was.

It was into this frigidity that Jarren and Bajja entered. The Tionese Knight bowed to Master Khoonda, who provided a solemn nod in return. Bajja meanwhile, was struggling to negotiate his frame through the door. By the time he succeeded, Kess had thought through every possible greeting that the Herglic might give. Ultimately Bajja chose to get down on one knee.

“It is an honour to meet you, Taarath Khoonda,” Bajja said, head bowed.

Khoonda seemed touched by this. ‘Padawan’ may have stuck around, but the honorific of ‘Taarath’ had long been supplanted by ‘Master.’ It surprised Kess to hear the term used in this relatively humble context.

“Rise, Jedi Bajja!” Khoonda said with a grin. “Please take a seat and we can begin.”

Bajja looked at the remaining seats. He looked at Khoonda. “I would prefer to stand, Master,” he said.

Khoonda flushed with embarrassment. Kess would have too, had the gene-splicers permitted her that trait. Of course Bajja couldn’t just use a standard sized chair, it’d be like sitting on a fence post. Come to think of it, maybe that was why he’d insisted on building the temple himself. He’d learned not to trust humans (or Arkanians) to take him into account.

Khoonda recovered quickly from his realisation. “Of course, I’m very sorry. I’ll make sure to have a place for you at the table as soon as possible. Jedi Darmond, sit or stand according to your preference.”

Kess pulled out the empty seat to her right and motioned Jarren over. She knew he was wary of her, both because of her connection to the Mentor he no longer trusted, and Kess’s political ties. That didn’t matter, the pressure was necessary. If Ranz Kymoodon’s vision—and hers—for the New Territories was to survive both Horuz and Khoonda, Jarren’s trust would be a crucial asset.

He faltered, not yet willing to leave Bajja’s side, nor wanting to stand awkwardly when there were eleven vacant spots. Relenting, he took the offered seat.

Good. Now the Knights of Mantooine could “get down to work,” as Master Khoonda had put it.

———
​

Ittik wasn’t sure he liked the dynamic that had developed so far. Conversation had started stiff and formal, progressed to a relaxed congeniality, then devolved into cold hostility the moment Zinn dissented. Thankfully the arrival of Darmond and Bajja had warmed things back up a few degrees, and they could begin.

Master Khoonda reached beneath the table. From its centre sprang a holographic map sparsely populated with stars grouped in clusters. He pointed at one such cluster near the bottom of the image.

“Here we have Mantooine, some of the potential colony worlds, and Dantara. We’ll come back to that last one.”

Connected to this group by a thin string of stars was another cluster. “Here is Sestooine. The hope is for this to be the primary population centre in the region. If that happens, we may consider placing a secondary temple there.”

Sestooine. Named after Sestin. Ittik wondered if every planet they discovered would be named after one of the companies. Maybe they’d have to start sewing logos on their robes.

Another line of stars zig-zagged its way ‘north.’ Khoonda explained that these systems along the paths did not support any sentient life, and were already being mined and drilled for ore and starship fuel. The New Territories would be self-sustaining.

The final world Khoonda indicated was the one nearest the top of the largely empty map. This was the one that Dantar had been so keen to show Master Khoonda, and which had delayed his arrival until that morning.

“Once the settlers arrive, this world will become essential. Every square metre will be dedicated to agricultural production, providing enough food for hundreds of colonies. With that in mind, we return to Dantara.” He pressed another button on the table’s underside. The map was replaced by a very grainy image of a sphere—presumably Dantara.

“Probes of the surface have determined that the planet’s soil is remarkably rich in nutrients and decomposers: its surface is covered in dense rainforest.” The display’s focus expanded to a view of the planet’s orbit. Dantara was far too close to its star for Master Khoonda’s description to be correct. Kessenell pointed this out.

“Surely plant life couldn’t survive with such a close orbit,” she said, “no matter how good the soil is.”

“Normally that would be true,” Khoonda replied, sounding as if he’d been rehearsing. “Were it not for the shielding action of constant volcanic eruptions, which send ash into the skies and protect the surface. That ash is also what enriches the soil.”

So Dantar wanted to grow food with the planet’s dirt. That made sense. But what—

“What do they want us to do?” Bajja’s voice had a resonance that made it sound as if the words had been plucked from Ittik’s mind.

“Mister Hals has recently had his people send a probe of their own,” Khoonda said, grimacing. “The Republic believes that they have discovered sentient life on the surface. An agreement must now be reached if Dantar is to access the planet’s resources.”

Of course. Napar had said that his meeting on Atrivis Station was to plan negotiations, but Ittik hadn’t considered that it would be with native species. Certainly not so soon after the Jedi had arrived—in fact, half of the Mantooine complement was still en-route.

Master Khoonda continued: “Tonight two more Knights are due to arrive, along with our ship and our translator. The team leaves for Dantara at noon tomorrow. The voyage is expected to take three days, but there is always the potential for delays when dealing with new hyperlanes.”

Again, Kessenell spoke up.

“Who has been chosen to go?” She didn’t, Ittik noted, indicate just who she thought was doing the choosing.

Ittik considered who would have liked to make the journey. Apart from the Master himself, only Zinn Yannata had shown any genuine interest in what the companies wanted. And maybe Napar. There was also the boy Darmond, who distrusted both Kessenell and Mantooine. He might leap at a chance to get offworld if Fest remained behind.

But Master Khoonda wasn’t taking volunteers.

“Our two new arrivals will be on the team, as will Jedi Yannata, Jedi Bajja, Jedi Heq’uuj,” he pointed upwards at the orbital station, “and you, Jedi Fest.”

Kessenell nodded. Her expression was impassive, but Ittik could tell she was pleased to be on the mission and to have been placed implicitly in charge.

“Will you not be going too, Master?” asked Darmond. Ittik thought the boy might have been pleased with the arrangement.

“No,” Khoonda said, “we’ll need to be here to greet the final Knights.” He cleared his throat. “And I have some matters to discuss with Jeen Hals.”

This was the problem with Master Var Khoonda, Ittik thought. However much he professed to serve the Republic, Khoonda hated having to submit to a central authority, least of all Coruscant. It reminded Ittik far too much of the old Alsakani exiles: Atgeir and his disciples had claimed to believe in freedom and self-determination too, before proving themselves hypocrites and cowards.

Ittik hated this feeling. He felt as if he should be back in his armour, as if he couldn’t trust the motives of his comrades. It made him feel very, very alone.

That wouldn’t do. He resolved to speak with Kessenell when the meeting was over. She was trustworthy, Ittik thought. She should have been the Master here. Of course Ittik would continue to serve Master Khoonda, but if their ideals began diverging just that bit too far, then he would have to find a new path.

 

Fascinating pull and push of agendas and motivations. I think that Khoonda is undermining everything with his ideas and wanting to direct everything. Kess would be a much better leader as I think she would get input from everyone to weigh the final decision.

 

I like Jarren's friendship with Bajja. And now a mission to inspect Dantara. What will happen there?

 

Here I am catching up on Misgivings and Conditions! I'm enjoying how you're using the shift in POV to show the tension that is building between the characters. It's still early days, but this team of disparate Jedi already feels like a slow-motion train wreck. It's not just the cultural differences that you highlight between them, but also that they're involved in the politics of their home systems and that the rivalries between these systems seep into their relationships as Jedi. They're trying to build unity, or at least to put up a show of unity, but the reality is that they're very much divided.

Of all this cast of characters, the only one who doesn't seem to be carrying any negative baggage is Bajja, who doesn't convey the snobbery of the Jedi from the Core and who's already made friends with everyone on-planet, apparently. It's lucky that he's on the team that will go and make contact with the native sentients of Dantara, because of this group he's probably best placed to treat them with decency and respect. The rest of them... well, it's not quite that they all come across as outright bad guys, not at all – but there's definitely baggage there. I found it particularly interesting that Ittik thinks of Jarren as still-a-padawan and dismisses his misgivings about the “dark presence” on Mantooine out of hand, whereas Jarren thinks of Ittik as the "quintessential Jedi". His comment that "Ittik projects the strength of an ancient, prosperous, powerful civilisation" (to paraphrase) struck me as very revealing of the mindset of the Guardians of the Tion who "don't stay for caf and conversation" but instead "move on to the next planet". There's such a distance between the Jedi and the people they're supposed to serve in this worldview, and that's very different from Zinn who spends so much time understanding the common man down the road.

Of course, the character that makes me as a reader, and all the other characters, most uneasy, is Var Khoonda who makes his entry in style. There's something so not kosher about him that it's in a league of its own. He seems quite irascible (never a good sign) and trigger-happy, or, I should say, saber-happy. His comment about now his "sword arm got restless" almost felt like he was trying to goad Kess into a duel; similarly, his disagreement with Zinn about Corellia almost seemed designed to goad her into a conflict. There's also the fact that he's so completely sold on what the Great Companies are trying to achieve, and any entity that calls itself a great company and clears forests before engaging in negotiations with native populations can't entirely be trusted in my book. I wonder if he has a good sense of what the personal philosophy of each one of his knights is when I see the team he chose for Dantara. It doesn't seem like a bad team to me, but it might well be one that doesn't produce the result he wants!