The Waiting Game

[Rugs]

“The battle is proceeding as well as can be hoped, sir. It’s hard to know the exact extent of our losses right now, but they have not been insignificant. Still, the Coalition has made steady, modest advances against the Chrous, and the two dreadnoughts have engaged the Spire directly.”

Alder exhaled slowly through his nose as the blue holograph of General Keer Naa flickered on his desk. The Togruta woman was a trusted advisor, and readily filled in for Horst when the Chief of Staff wasn’t available.

Horst was, of course, currently overseeing said engagement with the Spire.

“And the spire on the ground?” he asked, lifting a glass of water from his table.

Keer’s expression hardened slightly. The hints of frustration on her face weren’t lost to Alder’s eyes.

“It’s been a tough nut to crack, sir,” she said. “The Coalition continues to dedicate forces to the assault, but the barrier the Archeri have deployed is powerful. It’s of a level with some of the most sophisticated planetary shielding systems we have.”

“That’s not good,” Alder muttered, grip tightening. Still, the iron dice were long ago cast. Whatever the coming hours and days held, there was no turning back from it. “But we must have faith, and so I do.”

He nodded, smiling grimly. “Thank you for your update, General. I know you are busy s-”

”There is one last thing, sir,” Keer said. Her expression flattened. “We have identified Legion forces operating in the system. They have posed no threat, but we are denying any requests for large-scale strategic collaboration.”

Alder’s lips pressed together. Another headache, for another time. “Thank you, General. We will deal with that appropriately.”

She nodded, montrails dipping out of view. “Of course, Chancellor. For the Republic.”

“For the Republic,” Alder echoed as the transmission faded away.

He leaned back in his seat, thinking. The wide floor-to-ceiling transparisteel window behind him showed a picturesque sunset over Coruscant. It was too beautiful a day in the capital, for all the death that reigned on the other side of the Galaxy.

And will this be the end, even if we win? Alder wondered.

“Sir, the Grandmaster has arrived to see you.” D-1N0 stuck shuffled in from the waiting area.

“Send him in,” Alder said, waving the protocol droid back out. He felt his mood lighten; Master Moho was always a steadying presence when the two had the time to talk. He hoped the aged Jedi master would at least bring some encouraging news.

[Blue]

Despite Moho's usual sanguine attitude, it still jarred to remain on the sidelines when he could be out there, helping. Perhaps if this conflict had occurred a couple of hundred years ago, the younger Moho would be out there with the Coalition fleet or on the ground of Nar Shaddaa, adding his abilities to the desperate fray. Alas, he was no longer free to commit himself to such actions; with the maintenance and health of the Order as a whole now his main purview of responsibility, the argument that he should not risk himself overmuch rang ever more true. Still. That did not mean he allowed himself to become inactive. Upon his return to the Temple, Moho had already began teaching classes once more, had a very constructive conversation with the Chief Librarian on the matter of their enemy, and meditated heavily on the Force for many hours each day. He had seen... many things. Filtering through the visions had always been a trying task. Prying the past from the future, the might be's from the might not's, all the while separating his own feelings from the interpretations so as not to colour them with his own hopes and fears. Even for a brain wired for multitasking as a Prellian's was, the bombardment of images and sensations was taxing. But not without reward. "The Supreme Chancellor will see you now," the droid announced. Moho swiveled his hoverchair back around to face the protocol robot, having just a moment ago turned away to inspect the antechamber he waited in. The old Jedi had not expected to be seen so quickly, especially with the conflict on Nar Shaddaa coming to a head. The Grand Master smiled warmly. "Thank you," the Prell replied, gently floating by the droid. Thankfully, the door into the Supreme Chancellor's office was spacious enough that his somewhat bulky form was not forced to go in sideways. Alder Vrieska awaited within, facing the large window behind his desk. Moho approached- Still fresh-faced, a pace behind Victoria Aspen Naaden, looking on as she is selected to fill the now vacant seat. Eager. Willing... Ambitious. The image flared up powerfully in his mind as he made his way to Alder's side. The flashes were coming quite often lately; it was getting more difficult to tell these days if they were mere memories or further Force Visions that happened to coincide with his actual experiences. Regardless, they were harmless enough, and the Grand Master had long been trained to endure them without it effecting his mind adversely in the moment. "Supreme Chancellor," Moho greeted the man, inclining his head to him. An appraising eye passed over Alder's form. The Alderaanian was still standing strong; the old Jedi expected nothing less of the fellow. But there were signs around him, faint as of yet, but something that may soon build up and wear down even a person of the Chancellor's impressive willpower. "How are you faring? I hope that you are taking the time to see to your own well-being; I have seen all too often how people in positions such as yours fall into the bad habit of allowing their work to overpower their own health. Even a few moments to enjoy a glass of water are vital in turbulent times like the ones we have too oft been thrown into as of late," the old Jedi asked, the kindly smile forming onto the broad features of the Prell.

[Rugs]

“Supreme Chancellor.”

“Grandmaster,” Alder replied warmly, giving a respectful nod as the aged Jedi came to stand beside him. He felt a sort of warmth come over him as the Prellian came to regard to city, sparkling under the setting sun. Whether that was something tangible — an effect of Moho’s powerful presence — or his mind playing tricks, Alder could not say. But he was, as ever, grateful for the Grandmaster’s presence.

“I’m faring about as well as I could hope,” Alder said, after a long moment of considering the Prellian’s question - and his advice. “Cut down my meetings with Senators while the campaign is ongoing.” A wry smile touched the edges of his lips and he bit back a chuckle. “I think that’d do good for just about anyone, truth be told.”

The levity faded, as soon as it came. Alder’s gaze turned to the sky, wondering at the distant campaign against the Chorus. “And how are things with the Order?” he asked, looking at Moho. “I know it was no small decision for the Council to put your weight behind this effort.”

Alder could not help but think of the last war, when the Sith Empire launched its assault on the Republic. The Order had been slow respond as a whole--a group splintered from the Council’s guidance to fight the war before the rest of the Order joined the effort. Some among the Senate, especially for those outlying worlds that had fallen to Sith rule, still held grudges. Alder did not; it had only been a few hundred years since the Jedi Civil War, and he couldn’t imagine the conflict’s scars were fully healed.

“But I suppose this time is different, isn’t it?” he said, muttering the words as if they were a thought half-meant to stay in his head. “Not to make light of our differences with the Sith — they are real and tangible — but it’s not a question of philosophy or politics this time, is it?” He looked to the Prellian master for a long moment.

“This time it’s about survival, for diverse life itself.” Alder’s brow furrowed. “Either we exterminate them, or they do us.”

[Blue]

Moho did not bother to hide his own light chuckle at the Supreme Chancellor's words. The old Jedi did not sense that the humour was used as to deflect the concern he had raised, and he could well understand how temporarily retreating from the Senate's hustle and bustle would go a good way to easing the man's woes. The Grand Master had been involved in diplomatic events for a long time and, after just a single century, he was convinced he had seen every shade of politician in the spectrum. All of them were inherently selfish, even the decent ones; they were, after all, elected for the singular purpose of ensuring their people's continued prosperity in a very large galaxy. Thankfully, the majority were capable of compromise... especially if they had been convinced they had won the overall debate. The light mood was soon unavoidably discarded, however, and the smile slowly left the old Jedi's face as the Supreme Chancellor asked after the Order. He- Locked in the Council Chamber for hours... days. Grim faces. Calm veneer, but anger bubbling beneath. Torn between wisdom and duty. Do nothing, lives lost. Do anything, risk such darkness. Too much. Too much... "We are... still recovering from the war," Moho confided in the man, the returning smile smaller, sadder. "The Council Chambers have too many empty seats. A fraction of what we have lost, but a stark reminder of how much damage has been done... and not just to our numbers." Spread throughout the galaxy, Moho had felt it, almost each and every time. Each death. Each fall. Each time diminishing their Order at a rate that was as alarming as it was painful. Few walked away from war unscarred, especially those with a connection to the Force. It hurt. The old Jedi had done what he could for those who survived their respective battles and they were on their way to healing, but without a moment to breathe... Moho nodded as Alder spoke on the nature of their current conflict, but a small frown marred his usually peaceful features. Images flashed behind the amber eyes, normally twinkling, now shrouded by some sinister certainty. "Never underestimate a sentient's stubbornness against compromise, Supreme Chancellor," he said. The Grand Master's words were heavy now, his tone darker. "Nor their willingness to cast away peace, or even survival itself, when presented a chance at vengeance. I fear that should such an opportunity present itself, there are those who will simply be unable to resist it's temptation... to the painful detriment of the countless many that act would condemn." With a sigh, as if the spoken words had inflicted injury upon him, Moho's expression once more became schooled into peaceful neutrality. His face turned to the Supreme Chancellor, allowing his voice to fall into a reassuring timbre and his continued bearing and smile more at ease. "But if there is one thing I know, one thing that I have seen countless times through the Force and through my own eyes, it is that life endures. Empires crumble, Republics fall. Schools of thought and philosophy wax and wane. But we endure. The pain of today fades into the distant memory of tomorrow and, to quote the most ancient adage of all..." One of Moho's larger arms reached out and swept gently before him, encompassing the vast city beyond the window and the endless stars beyond even that. "Life goes on... despite the machinations of many who would seek to otherwise control it." The smile became smaller once more, but stronger. "We endure."

[Rugs]

The shift in Moho’s tone caught Alder a bit unawares. He looked to the Prellian master, brows slightly raised at his word’s dire undercurrent. The expression changed after a moment, as Alder’s brows drew down. Only a fool discounted the words of a Jedi; one would have to be a fool all the larger to ignore a warning from the Grandmaster himself.

”Never underestimate a sentient's stubbornness against compromise, Supreme Chancellor.”

The words echoed in his mind, everything else Moho said added weight behind it.

Alder remebered well the furious discussions that embroiled the Senate in the war’s waning days. The Empire was on the run after their failed gambit at Coruscant. The Republic was hot on their heels, forcing the interlopers out of the Core, then the Colonies and nearly the Inner Rim. The hawks thought the Republic could turn the defense of Coruscant into a grand turning point — a place to launch a campaign all the way to Korriban and Dromund Kaas to end the war and snuff the Sith fire out for good.

Yet Naaden, in her last great act as Chancellor, had seen to peace. Alder never found himself quite so bullish as to think the Republic’s offensive would carry all the way to the Sith capital, but he had wanted to push further. But even he could see the Republic was strained. As exhausted as the Empire had been, the Republic was faring little better.

A war that settled into a stalemate, with each side pushing fruitlessly against the other and refusing to give in, could have been catastrophic.

”This is not the end Alder,” the old Chancellor had told him. ”Shall I order us on to Kaas and leave us too weary to fend off the Mandalorian rampage? If we fail, will the Empress hear our plea if we cry for peace?

“This is an end, yes. But this war is far from over.”

The war had ended. For all its grumbling, the Senate accepted Naaden’s viewpoint. The Republic was stronger now than it had been, if still healing from the war. And despite the cries — carrying on through this day — for the Republic to retake the worlds the Sith had stolen away, fragile peace endured.

And for all his distaste toward the Empire, Alder had brought the Republic to work alongside them. And if that war had dragged on, he wondered, where would we be, with the Archeri rearing their heads?

“I would hope,” he said, thoughtful. “That with this threat, any thoughts of revenge will be put on hold, at least for a time. The stakes are too high.” He sighed, resisting the urge to rub at his temples. “Still, your words are wise, Grandmaster.”

Alder’s mood lightened as Moho continued to speak. His chest nearly swelled with pride, beholding the grand city, built over countless millennia, that stretched past the horizon before them.

“We endure,” he said, echoing Moho. “But... if we are to, they must not.”

Alder frowned slightly, as if concerned by the dark irony. “Some of our greatest historians and scientists have been combing every record they can get their hands on to find any trace of the Archeri. So far, those efforts have turned up nothing.”

He turned slightly to the Grandmaster, regarding him thoughtfully. “Has the Order any wisdom on this matter? If we know who these... creatures are and where the¥ come from, we may be able to stop this from ever happening again.”

[Blue]

Ahh, yes. Moho knew all too well the "dreadful algebra" of life, as his old master used to call it. Not everything could be solved through words. Violence was never the answer, but sometimes it was the only answer one could respond with. Some forces were just too fundamentally different to co-exist peacefully for prolonged periods of time; one need only look at the history between the Sith and the Jedi to know that. When the Supreme Chancellor brought up the Archeri Chorus and the question of their background, Moho nodded. "My thoughts have been running along the same lines, which is partly why I desired to speak with you," the Grand Master confirmed. "Myself, the Chief Librarian and several others of the Order have scoured the Archives, but if any of my brothers and sisters had encountered them in person or by word of mouth in the past, it was not recorded. The Chorus is an enigma even to us." The Prellian Jedi's expression became thoughtful as he considered the matter of the Chorus. His meeting with Taas was promising, with many strong theories being presented. Such things were insubstantial without proof, however, and so his old pupil had put forward a detailed plan of action to gather such proof. With an invisible tug, a datapad was brought forth and hovered in the air between them. "Master Erastothene has, however, prepared some preparations to alleviate this state of unknowing. A research expedition, aimed with the sole purpose of uncovering the historical and biological origins of the Archeri Chorus. Stored here are his thoughts on the paths to take, the supplies needed, the personnel required." The datapad floated gently over to Alder so that could inspect it's contents. "I have given my support to this venture, and intend to put the full resources of the Order behind it, but if there are any other elements that you think you could provide in addition, they would be welcome. Names of other specialists, potential extra funding for equipment, or security details to ensure they can move where they need unmolested. Whatever the Republic can spare, or your own personal insights that can advise us on this course, would doubtlessly prove priceless." Along with the logistics of said venture, the datapad also contained the details of Taas' theories on the Chorus for the Supreme Chancellor to digest. The Order's current available resources were also noted, should Alder have any thoughts on how to bolster or more efficiently deploy them. "To summerise Master Erastothene's prevalent theory, he believes that the Archeri Chorus were once a prey species, sharing traits similar to such creatures, that eventually evolved into predators," Moho said. The official document was fairly expansive and used scientific jargon he did not want to assume Alder would know. "As to their reasons to invade our systems, it could range from an instinctive need to claim more territory and spread out their numbers left over from their old existences as prey, to simply needing more territory to expand out into after taking all they could from wherever it is they call home." A troubled look passed over the Grand Master's broad face once again. "There is also the possibility that they were pushed out of their homes, and came here to re-settle, though I much prefer the former ideas. The latter would indicate that there is something else out there that considers the Archeri Chorus prey, which is a rather unsettling thought indeed."

[Rugs]

It was, perhaps, unsurprising that the Jedi Order seemed to devote serious thought into determining the origins of the Chorus. Be that as it may, Moho’s confirmation brought a slight smile to Alder’s face--especially in learning that the Chief Librarian was dedicating his time to investigating the matter.

Alder took the offered datapad with a quiet thanks and scrolled over some of the information, though serious reading would have to wait until he wasn’t mid-conversation with the Grandmaster. He felt, for a moment, as though he were a student again at Aldera University, wondering where in the great, sprawling libraries he’d have to turn to find the answers to an assignment.

One class in particular — a governmental history course of obscure civilizations dotted through the Galaxy’s history — had nearly driven him mad, as the professor liked to send students on wild goose hunts with little more than vague hints of possible paths to get them started. Sometimes, the answers were there to be found, deep within the stacks. Other times, they had no such luck.

Professor Haerch’s point, Alder had eventually learned, was in teaching them to scour the vast resources at their disposal. The journey to the answer was just as valuable as the answer itself, in the old Fosh’s eyes, and Alder had lost track of how many times a seemingly fruitless tangental search led him right to what he was looking for.

Perhaps those old lessons won’t go to waste just yet, Haerch, he thought, smiling to himself.

“The Library of the Republic is, of course, open to you assist in your searching,” he said, turning to Moho. “The Special Acquisitions Branch has been working with universities across the Core to search for any trace of these beings in historical records.”

Alder turned to his desk. As Moho continued to speak on their hypotheses for the Archeri’s abrupt invasion of the Galaxy at large, he tapped on a control panel. The broad transparisteel window darkened, and soft lights around the edge of the ceiling faded on to keep the office from plunging to darkness.

“Neither of those possibilities is comforting,” Alder muttered, “if the options are that they’re expanding for expansion’s sake or running from something worse than they are.” He shuddered, feeling a chill. Force, what could be worse than the Archeri.

At a few more button presses, a map sprang to life over Alder’s desk. It was a map of the Galaxy, much like the one presented at the summit on Prazhi with Archeri-conquered territory marked in vibrant purple. Another button press and the purple vanished, replaced by the Hutt Cartels’ holdings. Then a single purple dot appeared at Teth and spread like wildfire through the Galactic East. The animation repeated itself--a time-lapse motion of the last year’s horrors unleashed upon the Galaxy.

“There is one thing above others that I just can’t square,” Alder said. The animation paused with only Teth, at the Galaxy’s far edge, in the Archeri’s hold. “They started here,” he said, pointing at Teth. “All the way at the edge of the Inner Rim. Now, I don’t profess to be an archaeologist or a navigator, but there’s not much room beyond Teth, other than scattered stars beyond the Galaxy’s edge.

“But if they came from the Unkown Regions,” now Alder pointed to the corresponding area of the map — the vast, unexplored expanse west of the Core — why start all the way at Teth? And how could they have moved there without sensors detecting them?”

Alder’s brow furrowed as he pressed his chin to his knuckles. The question, unanswered — unanswerable, with the war effort to oversee — had kept him awake long nights as the Republic wrestled to deal with the invaders. “Where did they come from?”

For a long moment, he stared at the map, as if looking at it harder would reveal the answer. “If you or Master Erastothene can submit a request to my office, I’ll send a request for expeditionary funding through the Senate. Normally, it’d take some time to work through the system, but... I think there’s a particular interest in knowing what we’re up against and where it’s from, and where it came from.”

Alder looked at Moho, his gaze steady and confident. “Historians, xeno-archaeologists, doctors, vessels--the Republic will see that this endeavor has the full backing it requires.”

[Blue]

Moho turned his hoverchair back to the window as it darkened, showing the map of the Archeri Chorus' advances. Taas had shown him a similar such map when extrapolating the course of the Spire and its fleet in an attempt to estimate possible launch origin points, but it was just as jarring seeing that purple cloud over so many planets, many of which were now barren of life. The Grand Master considered the question that the Supreme Chancellor put forward. Why Teth, indeed? His mind flickered through some possibilities until one presented itself that seemed the most likely. "It is not impossible that the Archeri Chorus employed covert agents to scout for the most optimal place to launch their invasion. Explorers, perhaps, or others of such an ilk that they snared and then sent back into our galaxy. Teth was a vacation world, as I recall; less intensive security, plenty of people. A tempting target for the Chorus both tactically and for their particular biological needs." The brows of Moho's face lifted as Alder mused aloud about where they came from, naming the Unknown Region as one possible location. "It is feasible that they came from there and somehow moved around us undetected, true. The simplest explanation available, however, is that they came from the east. After all, Teth rests at the very edge of the Galactic East, and the Archeri Chorus have proven more than capable of existing in a plethora of environments." The old Jedi had long ago learned that, the majority of the time, the simplest answers and solutions were typically the correct ones. It was sentient minds that tended towards complicated systems; the natural order of the universe usually preferred the quiet, straight-forward paths. Moho nodded his head as the Supreme Chancellor continued, declaring his intent to fully back the expedition. "I shall submit the formal request immediately after this meeting, Supreme Chancellor", he proclaimed. Talk of government bureaucracy lead the Prellian Jedi into his next question nicely. "Speaking of the Senate, how would you describe the current general feeling within the Chamber about the Republic's current status? I doubt that it's sanguine, but is there anything that stands out to you in particular that might constitute as a warning sign for... rash action?" Though, sadly, the elected officials in the Senate rarely reflected the planets they represented as a whole, the fact remained that they wielded the power of office that mattered in the political galactic community. If enough of them panicked or saw an opportunity to advance themselves in the chaos at an inopportune moment, it could be as devastating a blow to the Republic as the appearance of an additional Chorus fleet would be.

[Rugs]

“I suspect you are right, Grandmaster.” Alder could think of no reasonable way the Chorus and its fleets — let alone the massive Spire — could have navigated through or around civilized space from the Unknown Regions without catching some attention. Their attack on Teth had been a complete surprise, and that no record of previous encounters had yet to be found seemed confirmation enough that they hadn’t been spotted before.

“Though I cannot help but wonder what other horrors may lurk beyond the boundaries, just past our reach.” He added, ruefully, “As if the ones we already know about aren’t enough headache.”

He deactivated the map as the conversation progressed, with Moho’s assurances that the Jedi would submit a request for expeditionary funding.

“I will personally see to ensuring a proposal moves through the Senate as quickly as is possible,” Alder said. “As for the Senate’s mood, well,” he tilted his head from one side to the other, thinking.

“The Arhceri — rightfully — occupy a great deal of mindshare. For once, there’s consensus that the Chorus is a threat that must be stopped.” Alder frowned slightly, brows drawn down. “Though consensus ends there. There’s a significant thread of thought, especially among some of the Mid and Outer Rim delegations, that working with the Empire was a mistake.”

He sighed as if he felt a weight pressing on him. “Their grievances are understandable — why should the Republic work with the Sith when the Sith still hold onto those worlds they took from us by force. They grumble, but they understand why we’re doing what we are.”


Alder fell silent, thinking. When he looked to Moho, his words came at a measured pace, his tone serious. “Before the Chorus arrived there were rumblings... Some of those same delegations wondered how long it would be before we struck back, before we went to liberate their homeworlds from the Sith grip.” He turned again to the great window stretched along the wall behind them. The sun was a bit lower now, throwing red across the and shadows that seemed to stretch out from the cityscape.

“And who can blame them? I’d feel the same way, in their shoes. But the wounds of the last war are near healed--step into the right places on Coruscant and the damage from the battle is as clear as ever. There may come — it will come — a day when this peace ends, but I cannot order us to that fight. Not yet.”

He paused for a long moment, letting silence hang thick in the air.

“Force willing, Grandmaster, we won’t fire the first shot.”

[Blue]

Moho sighed as Alder gave his view on the Senate at large. It did not come as a surprise to the Grand Master that there were a good many amongst their number eager to throw the Republic and it's people back into war with the Empire. He could empathise with some of them; those that had lost their homeworlds to the ambition of the Sith-lead galactic power would naturally want to do everything in their power to get them back. He could even understand their ambivalence, or even outright anger, at the Jedi and the Order's initial refusal to get intimately involved. People forgot that they were not meant to act as soldiers or warriors. "It is difficult indeed not to see things from their perspective, Supreme Chancellor. Losing a home and loved ones to such aggression can never be anything but a painful experience" Moho agreed. "But it is often easy to disregard the bigger picture, as well as the safety and well-being of others, when such situations arise. People in such situations are commonly blinked by their desire, for good or ill, to regain what has been lost. It is a testament to your wisdom that you restrain yourself from blindly following that path on impulse." Though a lot of the criticisms that fell on his Order when it came to such terrible events was that Jedi had no real homes to lose, nor family and friends to mourn, and therefore could not contemplate what it was like to endure either, this was far from the case. Ignorance of the practices of the Order was to be expected, as few outside of it showcased much more than a passing interest and there were many secrets that were guarded by necessity. But the truth was, Jedi were exposed to a lot of pain and suffering throughout their time. Moho himself, with over three centuries of service to the Order, had personally experienced terrible loss at the passing of each of his brothers and sisters, and every innocent life lost in war. He felt it all. He understood what it was to grieve all too well. "Once, about two hundred years back now, I was entreated to go to a world recently inducted into the Republic," Moho said, his gaze falling on the landscape once again visible from the window. "Though the practice was thankfully falling out of use and was seen as an embarrassment to most that lived there, several countries on this world still utilised indentured servitude and I was asked to go to them and help the world's government phase it out. It was... difficult. They claimed it was a matter of tradition and that those who entered such servitude did so willingly and of their own accord. It was all nonsense, of course; a more thinly veiled excuse to justify slavery I have never seen. But while the majority treated such servants as poorly as you would expect, the contract holders rarely deviated from the minute letter of the contract. To do so would terminate it, but more importantly it would to shatter the fragile veneer that made it appear 'acceptable' entirely, and as such it simply was not done. "I met a man called Halen Get during my time there. He had been assigned to me by one of the ruling houses to see to my needs. I spoke to him at great length, though he was very slow to trust that I would not sell him out to his masters for slander. He endured great humiliation and not a little  serious abuse, as his contract was poorly crafted and possessed many loopholes that his owners took advantage of liberally. But it was soon to expire, and he would not have to put up with such acts for much longer, one standard month if I recall correctly. He was a good man, if tired, and eager to leave. "One night, his contract holder, a strong and ill-tempered fellow named Forra, took a nasty fall down a staircase. Halen was reassigned to his care while bedridden. I visited Forra in his chambers to find Halen about to murder him with a knife. I stopped him and sent him away, talked to Forra, and not long afterwards I was lucky enough to turn him into one of the strongest advocates against indentured servitude." As his mind returned to the present, Moho turned to face Alder, smiling apologetically as he realised how long his story had gone on for. "Anyway, the point is that good people, who have witnessed and endured terrible things but with everything still to lose personally, are more than capable of throwing away far more than they can anticipate if they believe they are acting for the betterment of the greater good." Moho shook his head gently. "And I fear there are many of our military personnel who have grown tired of being hit with the first shot."

[Rugs]

Alder listened, with great interest, as Moho recounted his tale. He was familiar with the world and its inclusion into the Republic. Not personally, of course—the Grandmaster was far older than he — but through the histories and his experiences navigating the Senate’s political landscape. After all, a world brought into the 25,000-year-old Galactic Republic was still a newcomer, in relative terms.

“As much as I hate think it so, you are right, Grandmaster,” Alder said once Moho finished speaking. “The Archeri have been a… distraction,” he frowned at the word; it didn’t do justice to the very real threat the Chorus posed to the Galaxy at large, “but the strains are there. And when this threat has passed, it’s only a matter of time until those who seek vengeance against the Sith try to pull us to war.”

Alder rapped the desk with his knuckles. The dark, polished Alderaanian wood produced a muffled knocking at his touch. Conflict was inevitable. The Republic and Empire could not bear to exist side-by-side forever; some spark would light the flames of war, and the Galaxy would suffer for it.

As much as Alder believed the sooner the Sith threat was eradicated from the Galaxy, the better; as much as he believed it imperative to remove or limit their influence before they ingrained their ideology across countless star systems, he could not justify putting the Galaxy through the crucible again. Not yet.

“If we can just make it through this crisis,” he said, voice thoughtful, “we can show the Galaxy that the Jedi, the Republic, we work for the good of all. We can show that we can even join hands with our most reviled foes, if it serves the Galactic community.”

He rapped his knuckles again on the desk. “And when the Sith go to war again, it will be they who tear the peace apart. I will not do it.”

Alder sighed, shoulders slumping for a moment. He closed his eyes, losing himself in thought. After a long moment, he reopened them and straightened, regarding the Grandmaster with the same poise he’d held moments earlier. “But this grows morbid doesn’t it? Worrying about the next war before we’re done with the one we’re in.”

[Blue]

Moho felt a great pang of sympathy for Alder as he spoke. Uneasy indeed lies the hand that wields power, and the Supreme Chancellor held the lives and fates of untold billions within his palm. It was a heavy burden, and one with which there could be no real victory. More often than not, unhappy compromise was the only outcome when dealing with galactic laws and politics, where a solution that worked one day would be rendered hollow the next. One could not please everyone, after all. The old Jedi knew that he might have been able to help Alder lift this burden using the Force, but he declined to do so. Such relief would be temporary at best, and Moho doubted that the man would appreciate it. The Supreme Chancellor did not need such aid from him; he was one who pulled strength from adversity, gaining fresh resolve from walking a difficult path. He was swiftly proven right, as the Supreme Chancellor easily steeled himself from his revere and straightened himself up. Moho offered the man a small smile at his words. "There is no shame in preparing for the next potential crisis, Supreme Chancellor," the old Jedi chided lightly, though his eyes held that tell-tale twinkle indicating his humour. "But it certainly does make for poor entertaining conversation. Force knows, there will doubtless be little in the way of levity in the days to come. As I said before, we must find our small moments of peace where we can, when we can." Moho's hoverchair hummed a little closer, so that the Prell's broad face was level with Alder's. The smile faded, but the deep amber eyes grew warmer. "Please keep that in mind, Supreme Chancellor. The Republic will need you dearly, I feel, before too long." He remained there for a moment, then his hoverchair moved further away. "I must get this information off quickly, and make that request to the Senate as well. Doubtlessly you will have many things requiring your attention far more than myself. If you do not need me for anything else, Supreme Chancellor, I shall take my leave, and leave you to your work," he said warmly.

[Rugs]

"There is no shame in preparing for the next potential crisis, Supreme Chancellor."

Alder smiled, as the Grandmaster spoke, agreeing with a nod. Though he presented a calmer exterior, though he stood with back straight and head proud and high, he could not quite squash the rueful ruminations that rose beneath the surface. Right you are, Grandmaster. But I cannot help but worry the next crisis will bring shame to all of us.

“I will answer every call that this great Republic makes of me, Grandmaster,” Alder said. “Just as she must answer those of the Galaxy. It is my duty, not as Supreme Chancellor, but as a citizen.” Alder’s morbid thoughts faded as earnest pride took hold. For all the politicking, for all the scheming and plotting to outflank the Republic’s enemies, for all the headache and heartbreak the Chorus caused, he believed—as deeply as he believed anything—in the Republic’s ideals.

And he would do anything within his power to ensure that its flame continued to burn for generations to come.

“But you are right, Grandmaster,” he said. “I will find peace where I can. Hopefully we’ll have some good news from the Galactic East when the sun rises again. And then we can begin in earnest the work of fixing this mess the Chorus has made.”

As the Grandmaster began to take his leave, Alder offered him a deep nod of the head. “I look forward to receiving the Order’s request,” he said. “I’ll see to it that this expedition gets the funding it requires.”

Alder remained standing as Moho left, golden sunlight spilling through the window behind him. Beyond, Coruscant glittered as ever, uncaring of the turbulence shaking the Galaxy. After a long few minutes of silent thought, Alder began gathering his things to leave, with a message to his wife that he’d soon be home.

As he walked away from his desk, with a last glance at the skyline behind him silhouetted by the setting sun, a communicator beeped at his desk. It was an unusual pattern, a repeating quartet of staccato beeps, rather than the long, single notes that announced normal calls.

So late? he thought, setting down his briefcase. He strolled back to his desk, where a heavily encrypted line, separate and even more secure than his usual one and only used for the most sensitive conversations, was blinking with a message.

Alder sat, brows knit, and began going through the troublesome security process to activate the line. Only after he passed through several security hurdles did the line crackle to life. It showed Mysles Roeder, commander and head scientist of a Republic military research installation tucked away in the depths of the Deep Core. He was slender, with a narrow face and neat, graying hair. His sharp eyes were set deep in his face, to either side of a nose that looked oversized on his face. The office windows automatically darkened, blocking outside views as the call began.

“Supreme Chancellor, forgive me for contacting you so late in the day.”

“You have good timing, Myles,” Alder said. “Half a minute later and I would have been out the door. How can I help you?”

“I will not keep you, sir,” Myles said, “but we do have an update to on Project Vanguard, should you have a few minutes to spare?”

Alder jaw tightened. He looked away from the projection, thinking that he should have delayed his message to his wife.

“I do,” he finally said, settling back into his chair.

His stomach tightened as Myles grinned. “Excellent. I’ll be quick but I believe you’ll be quite pleased with recent progress…”