"This ship..."
Lynn raised an eyebrow at Vader's remark. It was one tinged with annoyance and, of all things, disbelief.
"You know this ship, Lord Vader?" she asked curiously. After all, what could be truly incredulous to a time traveler?
Vader said nothing as they stood in the abandoned landing port of this ghost town, staring at the Corellian spacecraft these rogue agents had intended to use for their escape.
"I've checked through its logs," Lynn continued, hoping to prompt something out of the Sith Lord. "The Stellar Envoy is its current title, but it's had a few others: Corell's Pride, Fickle Flyer, Meetyl's Misery."
"I only knew it by one moniker," Vader said mildly. "The Millennium Falcon."
The light freighter sat there, as if someone or something was taunting him.
"Oh?" Lynn asked before catching on. "Ahh, you encountered this ship in the future."
"It played a rather significant role in the destruction of the Death Star," Vader answered.
"Yes, your soldiers talked about that technological monstrosity more than once amongst themselves. Some wondered if its destruction didn't have a hand in your travel to the past, that it somehow ripped a hole in time," Lynn remarked.
Vader crossed his arms. "I have the distinct feeling that, somewhere, an entity is very amused by this apparent coincidence."
Lynn almost laughed. She wouldn't be surprised if he was right. "Are you positive this is the same ship, though? This would have been decades earlier."
"Trust me, I would recognize this patchwork anywhere," Vader said in what might have been professional annoyance of a mechanical nature.
"Mech-heads. Some things never change," Lynn said with a headshake. "More than once, I had my ear chewed out by mechanics because I couldn't tell the difference between two vehicles of the same design."
Vader opted to not address the sentiment and move their topic back to more important matters. "You searched the logs and interior. Was there anything of value?"
"Coordinates to a revenue location, some extra weapons, emergency credits, and fake IDs. About what we'd expect from an operation like this. I haven't had the chance to search more thoroughly before you arrived."
"Then we have work to do," Vader said with finality as he walked up the ramp into the ship.
"We always do," Lynn commented to herself, following after. "Are you sure that child will remain out of trouble?"
"Not at all, no."
True to Vader's word, Farmile had blatantly ignored Vader's instruction to stay with the ship. The young child was fascinated with the world around him. Another planet, and one not dominated by war, ruins, and mutant fish-creatures!
He had seen trees and plants before, but the leaves here were vibrant orange, and the color of the sky was off somehow. It was blue, but not the shade he was used to. And the air! It was clearer than most places on his home planet.
More than that, he felt strange while looking around the rotting carcass of a settlement. He had been through many destroyed cities and towns in his short life, scavenging for resources and looking for unclaimed shelter. But there was something different about this place. It hadn't been destroyed, just abandoned. And the difference was stark to him; there were no skeletons or ravaged corpses, buildings were slowly falling instead of crumbling from holes caused by explosions or war machines, and the silence was somehow comfortable instead of ominous.
It was...kind of peaceful. Farmile wasn't used to that.
He blinked as he reached up to his face and found something wet on it. There were no clouds in the sky, so why...
"Oh. I'm crying," Farmile noted absently. Why was he crying? He wasn't sure. He hadn't cried in a long time.
Instincts took over as he felt himself being watched, turning his blaster at the source.
There, between two houses, was some kind of animal. He... wasn't sure what it was. It was small and furry. It had four legs and a tail, with pointed ears and sharp-looking eyes.
It was eyeing him territorially. He had seen that look in beasts and people.
Was this thing dangerous? Probably. It had claws and fangs. It was smaller than him, but that didn't mean anything. He had killed bigger than himself, after all. Maybe this would be something good to cook? He didn't really need to, but he had a habit of eating anything he found that was safe. After all, he never knew when his next meal would be.
It hissed at him, and Farmile didn't hesitate to shoot it.
The creature fell over without even a whimper of pain.
Farmile stood there, this world suddenly feeling less foreign than it had moments ago.
"I see Vader wasn't exaggerating."
Farmile turned to point his blaster at the voice.
Lynn grabbed it before the muzzle could ever line up with her, keeping a firm grasp on it as she looked down at the child.
Farmile blinked. "Sorry. I didn't notice you there."
"You had tunnel vision," Lynn said, both noting it to herself and informing the child. "Does that happen often? Losing awareness of your surroundings when you focus on one enemy?"
"No," Farmile answered as he lowered his weapon, Lynn releasing it. "I didn't know what it was, if it was dangerous."
Lynn quirked her head. "They don't have cats where you're from?"
Farmile shook his head. "Not that I ever saw. Should I have shot it?"
"Vader will wish you hadn't," Lynn said with a sigh. "It was no threat to you, and you might have drawn attention to us if anyone is nearby."
"Ahh. Sorry," Farmile said honestly. "...Can we cook it?"
Lynn gave the dead animal a considering look. "It would take too long, and we'll be leaving soon. Even if that wasn't the case, there is barely any meat on the creature."
"It's still something," Farmile remarked simply, with the voice of one who was accustomed to scrounging for scraps and supplies.
Lynn snorted. "Come back to Vader's ship. There are some wild creatures to be wary of on this planet."
"It would be kind of strange if there wasn't," Farmile remarked, unable to imagine a world with life that was totally free of danger.
When Lynn returned, Vader was already exiting the freighter with an air of disappointment about him. "What did Farmile kill this time?" Vader asked knowingly.
"A cat. He's never seen one, apparently," Lynn answered. "He wanted to cook it."
Vader considered that. Were there no cats on Carnelion IV? Given the state the Open-Closed war had left that planet, he wouldn't be surprised if various domestic species had gone extinct long ago.
"I take it you haven't found anything?" Lynn asked with a hand on her hip.
"Nothing of import or value," Vader answered.
"How about these?" Lynn reached into her cloak to retrieve something. "I found this just before the boy got trigger-happy."
Vader looked and saw a bundle of notes, paper notes at that. Preculiar. If someone was using physical records, they didn't want it noticed. "What are they?"
"No idea," Lynn answered casually, showing him the writing. "This isn't a language I know."
Vader stared for a moment. "It's Ryl, the written language of the Twi'leks."
"Twi'leks? Why them?" Lynn asked idly as Vader took the pages from her.
"Despite Twi'leks being desired across the galaxy, most know nothing of them, let alone their languages. Most would not even recognize the language," Vader answered as he scanned the contents. "Plagueis may take a great interest in this."
Lynn hummed, realizing she wouldn't get the full story right now. "There's a communication device in a cave not far from here, where our last rogue spoke to an unknown employer. It likely self-destructed or otherwise purged itself of all data."
"Very likely," Vader agreed, glancing at her. "Do you believe you could get these to Plagueis without raising suspicion on him?"
"His public persona is in contact with the Jedi," Lynn informed.
That certainly made this matter easier, Vader privately admitted.
Meanwhile
Plagueis looked from his work and tilted his head as he heard a beeping in the room. "What is that?" he asked, glancing at the Padawan. He didn't sense danger, so it wasn't a bomb.
Anakin blinked as he realized it was coming from his belt, pulling out a communicator. "What the Kriff? Why is R2 trying to contact me?" Anakin said to himself with a wary frown. "Sorry, Magister, I need to take this."
"No worries, young Skywalker," Plagueis waved off, returning to his word but keeping one ear towards the boy.
Anakin stepped a few feet away as he answered. "Yes, R2, what is it? Is everything alright?" he asked, getting a series of beeps as a response. "A message? From who?"
Plagueis furrowed his brow at the beeps that anwered. Did he hear that correctly?
By Anakin's silence, he believed so. "Play it, R2," Anakin instructed.
"Skywalker, Jinn," a record of Vader's voice came through, Plagueis lifting his head to look with curiosity that was somewhat genuine. "I have secured notes on this virus from someone who attempted to escape the planet. See to it they arrive in the appropriate hands."
The message ended, and Plagueis waited a few seconds to speak. "Was that him? Vader?" he asked, trying to add some nervousness to his act. After all, Hego Damask would be wary of the idea of a Sith Lord.
"Yes, yes, it was," Anakin said with a frown. "Thanks, R2. I'm going to give you a terminal to send those two to this lab. Give me a few minutes."
R2 whirled in affirmative before the line ended.
Plagueis watched the boy. "What is on your mind, Padawan? Do you doubt Vader's intentions?"
Anakin shook his head. "No, but I'm just not sure why he's roped into this at all. He's gotten involved in other worlds, but never enough to do something like show off his fleet," Anakin said with a headshake. "My only idea is that someone involved in this conspiracy did something to make him-"
Plagueis could feel the pieces snapping into place for the boy. "Yes?"
"...I have a suspicion, but I shouldn't share it without evidence, Magistrate," Anakin said carefully, eyes wide as he headed over to the terminal.
Plagueis nodded. "Best not to give hot tempers undeserving targets to vent upon," he mused in acceptance.
The boy likely realized that humans who hijacked this plot were part of Vader's forces who went rogue. Not a troubling concern, really, but it was best to keep an eye on how much Anakin suspected.
Still, the Sith Lord wondered what he might discern from these notes. Not only that, but what might be learned from the crew of that ship that Vader's fleet had handed over to the Albingi's planetary security. He'd have to be careful if he went digging for information from them. His illusions were wondrous at times, but he'd have to be discreet about where he was and when he didn't want to draw attention to himself.
"Um, Magister?" Anakin called out. "Do you know how to read Ryl?"
"Hmm? Yes, I do," Damask answered with interest as he moved over to examine the screen. "But whoever wrote these notes evidently did not know the language very well."
"Good, I thought I was imagining it for a moment," Anakin said with a head tilt. "Why would someone write notes in a language they don't even know?"
"Oh, they knew it, Padawan, but they are not a native speaker. Likely never converse with one either," Plagueis answered, pointing to a line. "See here? They were just translating it from Basic to Ryl with no account for the grammar shifts between the two languages, or the slight changes in spell for a word's place or function in a sentence. It's rather simple to read when you take that into account. Translation skills aside, the author of these notes at least had good penmanship."
Anakin tilted his head and reexamined the text. "I don't really understand all the words they're using, but it seems to be about the blight; How to store it, ideal spreading conditions. But it's strange. Every now and again, there's a wording that makes it seem like..."
The Muun hummed as he caught it, too. "Yes, someone was very...excited about creating this plague. Genuinely excited, and not about the deaths it might cause. Some of these instructions almost sound like a concerned parent or pet owner."
Which meant this person would likely make more one day, if they weren't stopped. Neither of them said it, but Plagueis was confident they both had that thought in mind.
Meanwhile
Qui-Gon sat in the office with a rather tired and ragged High Counselor, who was pouring himself something alcoholic. "I have word from Damask. This Darth Vader apparently sent us notes on the blight," the counselor explained slowly. "We're also dealing with the armaments of the ship we took into custody. While tests still need to be done, he seems confident he can have our situation dealt with and our planet's harvests returned to normal within two standard years."
"That is a relief to hear, Counselor," Qui-Gon answered. "May I ask, have you learned anything about who these people were working for?"
The High Counselor finished a slow drink before answering. "Nothing yet. Their ship's records were wiped, which means we have no idea where they came from. The crew isn't speaking. Yet. As for the four conspirators who were on planet? We still have not tracked down the last one, but I must assume that he is either long gone or dead. From what you Padawan reported, Darth Vader likely had him dealt with."
Qui-Gon stroked his chin in thought, being of a similar opinion.
"Perhaps you can tell me what Vader's interest was in all this? I have heard only rumors of this "Sith" that saved Coruscant from another Sith, and went off to save Naboo from the Trade Federation," The High Counselor said with a frown. "Is he just making it a habit of thwarting planetary conspiracies whenever he can?"
"Your Excellency, I can honestly say Vader's intentions are a mystery to us as much as you," Qui-Gon mused. "But if you're asking if you can trust him? I can give you no reason to the contrary, but his motives are admittedly not selfless in nature."
"Whose are these days?" The Counselor retorted with hollow amusement. "Tell me this much: do you believe their coming here was happen chance as this admiral claimed?"
"Yes, if only for the absurdity of the claim," Qui-Gon admitted with a frown. "After all, there are many more believable answers for such a thing."
"After these recent events, there is little I find unbelievable," The Albingi said with a headshake. "My brother has surrendered himself into custody and is willing to give a formal address to acknowledge his actions and accountability in this debacle. He only asked for leniency for his subordinates," the Albingi Head of State explained.
"I imagine that will cause some uproar among your people," Qui-Gon noted with measured concern.
The Counselor chuckled. "I'm sure it will, but regardless of how he presents his deeds, the focus will be on this attempt to wipe out our people," he mused with a headshake. "I appreciate all you have done, Master Jedi, but I propose you and your Padawan make your leave before that happens. I imagine there may be a flare of anti-human sentiment."
"I will keep that in mind, High Counselor," Qui-Gon assured. It wasn't the first time a Jedi had to leave a diplomatic mission due to local issues with a given Jedi's species.
The Counselor scuffed. "I know my people, Master Jedi. Our long, abrasive history between the three races of Albingi is a tapestry of us often fighting over who should rule, or even just exist. But unlike some species, we never forget that we are of one species. And that is the one thing that all three have always agreed upon- regardless of all else, the Albingi must live. My brother would rather be remembered as a foolish patriot than a traitor of his world."
Qui-Gon read between the lines fairly well. "You believe that, inadvertently, this situation will unite the Albingi races against potential outside threats."
It wasn't a question, but the Counselor nodded all the same, sipping at his drink. "Peace among the Albingi, and all it cost me was my son and my trust in my brother."
Qui-Gon knew this situation well. It wasn't the first grieving family member he had sat across from; it likely wouldn't be the last. A Jedi rarely offered more than a few words of comfort, for it was obvious how their words of wisdom would be unwanted at the wrong time and place. "From what you and your brother told me, your son desired peace more than anything."
The Counselor scowled. "What did my brother say of my boy?"
"That he wanted to join because he believed the fighting was inevitable...but that times like these needed people willing to reach out to the other side," Qui-Gon mused. "Your brother admired it, even if he thought it was foolish. He thought...he could protect him from the worst of things, while trying to show him "their way" of things."
"My boy. Foolish and brave, naive yet so willing to try for the best in others," the Counselor said, smiling softly. "He got that from his mother. I never did like him going into a military role like the government security. But..."
Qui-Gon watched as the man sagged in his chair, as if life and energy had been drained out of him.
"I believe there is a common saying out in the galaxy: Prepare for the worst, hope for the best," The counselor explained. "I wanted to believe I could prevent a civil war, but I was happy my boy was prepared if it did come to that. Perhaps if I hadn't taken comfort in that, I might have noticed the signs, instead of being glad my brother was being such a ...good uncle by taking him under his wing," he finished with distaste.
Qui-Gon sat there in silence with the man for a long time before he offered what he hoped was a small comfort for the man. "I will not try to say that anything good that comes of this could ever justify your loss. But I hope that, if nothing else, the war he feared would come has been averted."
The Counselor glanced away from his drink to give the Jedi Master his full attention, while he still had the awareness to provide such a thing. "I do not know who I will be when this storm in my heart has passed. I do not know if I will be a broken, hollow wreck or if something of the man I've been will remain standing in my place. If it's the former, I imagine I will find myself in a grave all too soon. But if it's the latter, if I don't find myself drowning in the rage and sorrow? I will make this peace one worthy of my boy. And maybe, just maybe, in this era of growing unrest in the galaxy, my people might finally lay to rest our books of grudges."
Qui-Gon observed the man carefully, knowing this might be the last time anyone would see the High Counselor resembling his old self. He could only hope this man's goal, done in the memory of a murdered child, might find some success.