Thunderheads

[Rugs]

Alder Vrieska sat behind his desk, for long, silent minutes after his call with the Empress concluded. He turned to the broad, floor-to-ceiling transparisteel window behind him that stretched from one side the office to the other behind. Coruscant Prime was not yet fully risen, just beginning to show over the skyscrapers and towers that clustered against the sky.

Not a half-hour earlier, it’d been the most triumphant sunrise on Coruscant since the Republic turned back the Empire’s assault. The Archeri were defeated, their onslaught against the Galaxy at large halted before it could begin. Even if months of work remained to see the Galaxy through the remnants of the Archeri Plague, there was still cause for celebration.

All undone, he thought. All undone by the captains of a few ships.

The sunrise seemed a sinister thing, now; throwing light on a Galaxy preparing to be thrown into chaos anew.

“One source of reason still illuminates the Republic.”

Perhaps, Empress. Perhaps the arbitration would solve the issues between the Republic and Empire — this issue, at least. Or perhaps we’re just delaying the inevitable. A few weeks, a few months, a year? Longer? How long could they delay until war anew swept across the Galaxy?

Alder pressed his lips together and glanced at his desk. There, in a locked drawer in a file accessibly only through layers of the Republic’s most sophisticated encryption, lay files on Project Vanguard. Only a select handful knew of that effort's existence. Alder dreaded the day that would change.

He shook his head and sighed, weary despite the early hour. “There will be no reason, should this war resume, Empress,” he said quietly as he turned around. There were moments, he’d learned since taking the Chancellorship, that he could feel history being formed around him. It was disarming, to try to shape the course of things as best you could only to realize the limits of your control as events lurched forward of their own accord. “Let us pray that day is not yet upon us.”

There was much to do. The Chancellor had come into his office with a full slate, which he’d now need to wipe clean. He called for D-1N0, his protocol droid, and ordered him to cancel all appointments until at least midday.

“And put in a call for the Grandmaster,” he said. “Immediately.” The droid shuffled out of the office in a hurry, seeming to sense Alder’s mood. The Chancellor very, very rarely put in such urgent demands for the Grandmaster’s time; he respected Shovaah Moho, and the Jedi Order, deeply. But the Republic found itself in crisis, and the Order needed to appraised and consulted as quickly as possible.

As he waited, he turned to other concerns. He’d need to consult with Horst again to ensure that the perpetrators were in custody and to order the Enduring Flame to escort them to Prazhi, once the Imperial force was prepared.

They’d need to discuss moving the Republic’s military to an active defensive posture. It would take time, but the arbitration had bought them that. Renata was shrewd; she’d not launch an attack on the Republic while going through the arbitration she’d invoked.

There were no guarantees for after, however. The Sith Empire’s assault, all those years ago, had caught the Republic unawares. Alder would not see that repeated.

He’d need to address the Senate soon. He could already guess which rabble-rousers would cause problems once the arbitration was announced. Too much to do. Not enough time to do it.

And so it was, that Alder jumped from one task to the next, organizing his plan of attack as he awaited the Grandmaster.

[Blue]

Moho did not really sleep anymore. He instead entered a deep meditative state, allowing the Force to flow through him, to energise him, to rid him of the rigours of the day. Refreshed, renewed, reborn. Of course, more than one youngling or Padawan over the years had just assumed he had dozed off in the Council Chambers, but the older Jedi could feel and identify the subtleties in the Force's flow to know the difference. Besides, that had only happened one time. Regardless, his latest set of Visions would have made it hard to rest properly anyway. The Grand Master was deeply concerned about the things he had seen; anger, betrayal, violence... silence. Despite his centuries of experience in unraveling the tangle of futures in his mind, he hoped so very desperately that, on this occasion, he was wrong. That what was about to come to pass would remain a distant memory that only he would recall. Breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat, the walls and windows of the Council Chamber in which he had taken solitary watch fell away, until piece by piece Moho felt himself began to vanish from his own awareness. He became empty, a vessel for the Force to pour into. There was no time. There was no space. There was only the vast, unending expanse of creation becoming one with his consciousness. But then the images, sounds, and sensations came. Fire, agonising pain... cold, nothingness... ”Don’t make me prove it...” ”You fucking traitor!...” Metal falling to pieces, breaking apart, burning away... ”Ald, it’s Horst. Call the Empress right fucking now. We just shot at her...” Rage. Pure fury. Betrayal. BETRAYAL!- The swelling wave of Dark Side power swept over the old Jedi, threatening to choke him with its intensity, but with practiced ease Moho let it flow through him, passing through his presence like a shiver of cold. Crack "Ah!" the Grand Master gasped, his amber eyes snapping open as the Vision ended, dragging him back into consciousness. Moho took a few measured breaths before levitating himself into the hoverchair that sat next to his Council seat, moving with all haste towards the Galactic Senate building. So focused on his exit that Moho failed to noticed that the glass panes that surrounded the Council Chamber had been fractured, the surface now opaque with a crazed labyrinth of cracks. --- Moho had already reached the building when the call came through, the Supreme Chancellor's droid requesting his presence. The old Jedi informed the droid that he was already here and, within a few minutes navigating the interior, he was entering Alder's chambers. "Supreme Chancellor," Moho greeted Alder somberly. He needed no skill in the Force to notice the tension that filled the man, and what small hope the Prell clung to that his Vision was simply another possibility, and not an act in the present, withered into nothing. "We attacked the Empire's fleet," the Grand Master stated sadly. It was not a question; even if Visions had not been bombarding his mind, it was written on Alder's face as clear as day.

[Rugs]

The Grandmaster arrived quickly. For that, Alder was thankful. Alder looked at Moho for a long, quiet moment after he spoke, wondering where to begin. It was a rare thing, for him to feel like he’d been knocked back on his heels, but the morning had delivered one blow after another.

“Yes and no,” he said finally. “In the most basic sense, yes, Republic forces have attacked their Imperial counterparts over Nar Shaddaa. That fact is undeniable. However,” Alder leaned forward in his set, face grim and voice grave, “this action was not authorized, by myself or by any of our commanders.”

He wanted to press at his temples. Even after reviewing what limited material was available, it boggled the mind to think that this had really happened. “This was the action of a few rogue officers and those under their command, either complicitly or because they didn't know better.”

Alder stood. It took too much effort to remain seating, and pacing sometimes helped steer his thoughts. “Grandmaster, this morning, we stood atop one of the greatest triumphs of diplomacy and mutual cooperation this Galaxy has seen in millennia. That’s to say nothing of the victory against the Chorus, which came in no small part to the men and women of your order.

“For a fleeting moment, Grandmaster, it seemed that we pulled trillions of souls out of the crosshairs of annihilation and quenched the fires of another war before they could sweep across the Galaxy.”

“Now,” he stopped behind his desk, leaning forward again with both palms flat atop it, “now we stand on the precipice of a second Pan-Galactic War, and I can feel the ground crumbling away beneath us with each passing moment.”

It was rare, for Alder to let his emotions bubble so readily to the surface, but he could no longer hold them in. “This, Grandmaster, is by any measure, a catastrophe. The Empire wants the officers responsible, no doubt to put them through some farce of ‘justice’ and hold a public execution for the Galaxy’s eyes. We have refused to turn them over, and the Empress has invoked the Arbitration Clause.

“That may buy us time,” he went on, “but I have a hard time seeing an end to this that doesn’t involve violence.”

Finally, Alder slumped back into his seat, seeming weary. He closed his eyes, thinking. When he reopened them, the veneer of calm returned as he smiled sadly at the Grandmaster. “You were right, yesterday. Too many of our soldiers were tired of being hit with the first shot.”

[Blue]

Moho allowed Alder a moment vent, to properly release his emotions. The old Jedi was not sure if there was anyone else in the man's work life who the Supreme Chancellor would be willing, or even properly able, to express himself in such a manner. Many in the political sphere might claim that such a thing was sign of weakness or some other such nonsense, but Jedi were technically outside of that particular bubble; they held no official authority over the Senate, nor they over the Order, for the most part. As a result, the Prell felt that there could be more frankness between their two offices than one might expect. But through the burst of emotion Alder released, Moho felt something else, like a spark of electricity shivering between synapses. Something that tugged at the man, a strange dread, not wholly related to the events unfolding before them now. "Time was the only factor that was certain when it came to the Empire and Republic returning to war, Supreme Chancellor," Moho announced, his soft voice sorrowful. "It was merely a matter of who recovered the most first, and I doubt that the Senate would permit the Republic to sit in peace while the Empire still held worlds which have seats in this building. Even if this betrayal had not occurred, all that would have been achieved in the end was a little more time, until the triumph of victory through co-operation cooled." Moho's hoverchair hummed quietly as the old Jedi moved closer, taking a place on the opposite side of Alder's desk. "Though I held on to the hope that perhaps enough in the Empire's political structure could be dissuaded from further conflict... a fool's hope, maybe, but it was there. Even the Empress could not deny the combined will of her Empire if it conflicted with her Order without severe repercussions. Even now, I believe she will seek to gain a political advantage, moral justification to offset the surge of Republic morale this incident might create, so that any new worlds she conquers in the future will be less inclined to rebel against Imperial rule, as well as to inspire the anger of the worlds she already holds." There was a pause after the Grand Master stopped speaking, those amber eyes watching Alder appraisingly. "But there is something else that picks upon your mind, Supreme Chancellor," Moho stated. The man was adept at hiding his feelings, as expected of a seasoned politician, and the old Jedi might not have even noticed that thread of emotion if Alder had not let down his guard for that brief moment. "Some other thought plagues you, running parallel to your concerns of war. Would you share this burden with me?"

[Rugs]

Time. Alder inhaled deeply, filling every corner of his lungs with the office’s crips air. Yes, it was always going to come down to time, wasn’t it? He doubted a soul alive with any real sway on either side of the Republic-Imperial border believed the peace would hold indefinitely. To the contrary, the Republic was, if anything, more militarized now than it had been at the Pan-Galactic War’s cessation. Three years had allowed for the construction of deep, powerful fortifications along the border with Sith space.

Alder had little reason to believe the Empire had sat on its laurels in the intervening years.

“A fine thing to hope, Grandmaster,” he said, smiling ruefully. “But it couldn’t be. I cannot — would not — claim to know the Sith Order’s philosophy as the Jedi do, but I know one thing about their governance. Dominance drives everything they do, and as shrewd as the Empress is, they could not abide sharing the Galaxy with us indefinitely. Whether it takes one year or twenty, they will wait until they think the time is right, until a moment of weakness, then strike.”

Last time the Empire had called upon the Mandalorian clans for aid. It was a shrewd move, Alder had to begrudgingly admit. The Mandalorians lacked the strength, the industrial and economic might to slug it out against the Republic alone — their humiliating defeat more than a half-century prior was proof of that — but with the Sith carrying the brunt of the war effort and driven by the desire to reclaim that which they’d lost before, they’d proved a significant nuisance.

Would Renata turn to the Mandalorians again? Alder’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought. Every nation has a weakness, he thought. The Mandalorians were no exception, and the Republic had plans, subtle though they were, to keep them on their heels.

But what would the Empire do, when war came again?

“Many things pick at my mind these days, Grandmaster,” Alder said slowly, cautiously. He might have lacked the Force, but he knew probing questions when they came. As much as he respected the Grandmaster, as much as he trusted him, Alder found himself feeling suddenly guarded.

He weighed his otpions.

There were some truths the Jedi Order’s leader would have to learn eventually. It might be best for him to know before violence erupted across the Galaxy. Moho had been a willing, invaluable participant for the Republic in negotiating the agreement with the Empire to fight the Archeri.

Perhaps knowing what lurked in the shadows would lend extra weight to whatever further aid he offered in trying to steer the nations away from war.

Alder stayed quiet for a long, considering moment. He meant the Grandmaster no disrespect, but nor was he going to rush into this decision lightly.

When at last he spoke, his voice was grim, his expression grave. “You know as well as I, Grandmaster, that we have preapred heavily for the resumption of hostilities against the Empire. It would be foolish to stumble into another war unprepared, or to let the Sith catch us sitting on our hands a second time.

“I have no doubt that this coming war, whenever it arrives, will make the first look like a warm up before a limmie match. I fear that this coming war, whenever it ends, will not end in a treaty like its predecessor.” Alder closed his eyes for a long moment, then spoke on.

“There are... certain contingencies the Republic has prepared, in the event of hostilities,” he said. “Grandmaster, do not take this request as a matter doubt on your trustworthiness, but the information you seek is known only to a handful of people within this Republic, all of whom are sworn to secrecy. If I am to divulge this to you, I must know that I have your assurances word will not spread beyond this room.” Alder’s jaw tightened as he watched the Grandmaster. “At least, not yet.”

[Blue]

Moho waited patiently while Alder considered what should be said. The old Jedi took no offense; there were many secrets that the Republic held close for the safety of those involved, most commonly military personnel that worked in more clandestine operations. He wondered briefly if that was what was being concealed, some hidden weapon that the Republic had been forging in secret for when the war began once more. The Supreme Chancellor's words did nothing to set Moho's mind at ease. It did not help that over the course of his life as a mediator, he had heard those exact words uttered several times, and it never preceded anything good. "You have my word, Supreme Chancellor," the Grand Master uttered, continuing on before Alder could respond, "provided, however, that what you show me will not directly endanger the lives of Republic citizens. My duty to them supersedes all things, including any obligations I may have to the Senate or your esteemed office." The words hung heavily in the air for a moment, Moho's usually warm, amber eyes suddenly hard and boring into the Chancellor's own. Then the moment passed, the old Jedi's normal neutrally serene expression back in place as if it had never shifted. "I have known you for long enough to doubt that this will be the case, of course. But that need for clarification works both ways; just as you required my word, I am required to state my own position. Trust can only be maintained through openness, after all."

[Rugs]

“If there is one thing you should know about me Grandmaster,” Alder said, voice and expression hardening, “it is that everything I do, I do for the good of the Republic and her citizens. No matter how hard those choices must, at times, be.”

His expression softened and he turned to the broad, curved window behind him with a weary sigh. He knew the Grandmaster meant no insult — as the wizened Jedi himself stated — but it rankled, even if it was just stating a matter of principle, of posture.

“Forgive me, Grandmaster,” he said after a moment spent regaining his composure. “These are trying times, enough to set anyone on edge. But we must be more than the strains that buffet us.” He turned and keyed a few buttons on a panel on his desk. The room darkened as projector whirred to action. The doors locked. A one-way tinting surface made the window view into his office opaque from the outside. “We will not navigate these stormy seas otherwise.”

“What I am about to show you, Grandmaster,” he went on, looking at the aged master, “is known only to a select few in the Republic, most of them sequestered away in the Deep Core.”

A holographic blue image of a spacecraft sprang up over Alder’s desk. It was about the size of a battlecruiser and round, with a an array of massive projectile batteries along its forward-facing side.

“This is Project Vanguard,” he said. “This has seen off-and-on development since the last war against the Sith Empire. At the time, the Republic hoped to finalize it in time to deploy against the Sith, to force them back out of the Colonies and Inner Rim and, ultimately, to surrender.

“Of course, as you may expect with such projects, it wasn’t finalized in time. Research and development proved more costly and more time-consuming than originally expected, and with such focus on supporting the war effort as it was, there was precious little to spare for a hypothetical that might not even work.”

Then the Sith had their teeth broken at Coruscant. And then the Peace of Prazhi, as the Republic pushed the Empire back to the edge of the Inner Rim. With peace came time to rebuild, to fortify.

To work on Project Vanguard.

“Research continued on through the after the end of the war, but it never quite worked out. There was always something missing. Then came the Archeri. We have secured samples of their crystalline weaponry in the aftermath of the battle at Nar Shadda, and they seem to have provided whatever that missing ‘something’ was.”

“I will not bore you with technical details, Grandmaster, some of which I have only a very surface-level understanding of myself, but what I can say with certainty is this,” Alder looked at Moho, his face blue through the hologram. “This project does not and will not replicate the effects of the Archeri Plague nor of the Chorus’ horrifyingly-unique methods of biological warfare. Whatever enabled that seems to be tied to their physiology and the methods they used to create their spires.

“We’ve yet to initiate final testing of this weapon, but what it can do is enable strikes on a scale that has, as of yet, been unobtainable without a massive commitment of Republic forces.” A short, looped animation began to play, of a projectile firing from the spacecraft toward a red marker on a round sphere.

“Project Vanguard fires projectiles at high speeds so as to avoid ground- and space-based interception,” Alder said. “Further testing is required, but our scientists are hopeful that this projectile is powerful enough to pierce even all but the most powerful of planetary shields. Once it upon contact, it delves into the planetary crust, and that’s where much uncertainty still remains.”

Alder folded his arms across his chest, fighting the urge to pace. “It will take a test to determine the exact yields that this thing is capable of, but current low-end estimations are that this can deliver enough force to a planet’s tectonic structure to disrupt thousands of square kilometers through an initial strike.”

Alder inhaled deeply, throat tightening. Most of the mid-range estimations pointed to a weapon that was orders of magnitude more powerful than even that. “On the highest end,” he said, frowning slightly, “there is reason to believe that a single strike from this weapon could impact a world’s structure so severely that it makes the surface unlivable”

[Blue]

The Grand Master simply nodded at Alder's words, knowing that nothing more needed to be said on the subject. They were both invested wholeheartedly in the protection of the Republic, but there were times when desperation drove people to extreme actions. Even good, decent folk could be broken that way, to feel forced to make decisions that would, down the line, spell disaster for the things they strove to defend. He owed the Supreme Chancellor that frankness, to assure the man that no matter what, the Jedi would do whatever they could to shield the people of the Republic from harm... no matter from what source that harm may come. As Alder reiterated the need for discretion and dulled the lights, the unease in Moho's spirit grew. One did not need a fine attunement to the Force to know that something was about to be imparted here that might very well change the way things stood between himself and the Supreme Chancellor, perhaps even between the Order and the Senate itself. The following presentation confirmed Moho's worst fears. His expression did not change, but the more that the Prell heard about this Project Vanguard the more distressed he became. The Grand Master did not interrupt the Supreme Chancellor as the man explained the details of the project in-so-much as he himself understood them, summerising it as a weapon of planetary destruction at the highest estimates. There was a silence for some time after Alder finished speaking as Moho stared at the holographic representation of Project Vanguard, processing what this made him feel. There was a moment when loose objects on the Supreme Chancellor's table rattled gently, and the blue light of the projection flickered ever so slightly for a heartbeat as the old Jedi's amber eyes slowly panned over to Alder. "Forgive me, Supreme Chancellor. I am no military tactician, so I require some clarification. The response of this office to the threat of an Empire invasion is to deploy a weapon we do not fully understand that has the possible capability of destroying entire planets?" There was no heat in Moho's words, rather the opposite; a blistering cold filled every syllable. "Explain to me, Supreme Chancellor, how potentially repeating the crime that took place on Taris is an acceptable response? This is not a weapon of war," Moho continued, one of his large pincers gesturing at the holograph. "It is a tool for genocide! If the Republic deploys this against the Empire, billions of innocent civilians could die! We would become no better than those we fight against. Entire systems might fracture away in protest, or else run or defect to the Empire in protest or for protection against us." Moho's eyes returned to the picture hovering in the air, horror seeping into his face and voice. "By the Force... I would understand why they would do so."

[Rugs]

Alder couldn’t blame the Grandmaster for his stunned reaction, for his disbelief. He could remember well the first time he was briefed on Project Vanguard, in the first security briefing of his first day in the Supreme Chancellor’s Office.

The project began during the worst of the war, with the Empire and Mandalorians pushing the Republic to the brink. At the time, it seemed reasonable. Any means to survive, he’d told himself.

But the wars ended before he took the office. Peace — however false, however fragile — was a different beast than war, and still, he’d authorized the research to continue. Year after year. Back then, Project Vanguard seemed too ambitious a concept to ever reach maturity. A contingency among a menagerie of horrible contingencies to unleash, should the Sith drag them back to the blood-soaked fields of hell.

And then came the Archeri...

That far-flung idea was suddenly very real. That decision that seemed impossible was, now, at his doorstep.

“Grandmaster," Alder began slowly, watching Moho through the hologram of the superweapon suspended between them, “no that I take no joy from this. Search my mind, my heart as I know you can, and know that much is true.” His voice broke slightly. How many nights did he awaken in a cold sweat, fearing the horrors of war come anew?

Fearing the choices that might lead to unleashing this horrible creation upon the Galaxy.

“As well you know, we have prepared tirelessly to defend against the Empire when hostilities resume.” He felt no need to stress that they might not; even if the arbitration succeeded in avoiding war — and Alder prayed fervently that it would — it was only a matter of time before the superpowers fell to blows again. “For a time, this was just an experiment — one of countless military research ventures that may or may not have borne fruit. But it did.

“And now that it has, we find ourselves in possession of a terrible weapon that, yes, if we take the full range of estimations into account, may render a world lifeless in a single stroke.” Alder leaned forward on his desk, a weight pressing onto his broad shoulders as he stared at projection. “And even if it doesn’t should we applaud ourselves for creating something that may merely render a hemisphere ruined? How might that change a world? The long-term result might be the same, either way.”

“There are limits,” he said. “I will not authorize its use on a first-strike basis, and only as a proportional response to actions brought against us.” That should have offered some measure of relief, and yet it didn’t. The Sith had already broken one world beyond repair. What was to prevent another? “We will be conducting a test in the coming weeks, on a lifeless world in the Deep Core. I would know what this thing is capable of before I order its use. Beyond material set aside for that, we suspect there is enough material for one use. Maybe two. Without the Archeri material, its effectiveness is severely reduced.”

Alder smiled an entirely joyless smile. He seemed an incredibly weary man, worn down from battles between conscience and duty. “Do you know, Grandmaster,” he said, sliding wearily into his seat as the projection faded between them, “what this weapon has underlined to me?” The projection faded, but the lights remained dimmed. Only a dull, white light lit the Chancellor and Grandmaster from above.

“It is that we must, to the best of our ability, strive for peace.” Alder, normally unflappable, noticed his hands were trembling. He folded them onto his desk and leaned forward slightly. “Whenever the next war comes, Grandmaster, it will not end with a peace treaty, and it will bring shame to us all. Now you know the Republic’s shame. My shame. But I ask you this: if the war comes again, and the Sith overrun our defenses, what am I to do? They’ve already struck at Coruscant once before, and though I pray it never happens, I know they will be better prepared if they ever come again.

“If we find ourselves on the losing side of a war, Grandmaster, am I to let this Republic die — to let the Sith rule — without using everything in her power to survive?”

[Blue]

Moho did not need the help of his skills in the Force to see the weight on Alder's shoulders pushing him down. This was something that had been constantly lurking in the back of the Supreme Chancellor's mind since his inauguration, only to be thrust to the fore now that a war was clearly brewing on the horizon. Clearly, the use of this thing was something that haunted a good man's thoughts. But good people are just as capable of terrible deeds as those that take pleasure in them. The Prell knew that the Sith had more than a few ex-Jedi within their ranks that had once been paragons of the Order. One choice. One choice is all it took for decent people to fall. It did not make a difference, not in the moment, why that choice was made: Anger. Fear. Desperation. In the end, the fact that they fell was all that mattered, and the repercussions of that fall were often devastating. Alder was no different. Neither was Moho. "Supreme Chancellor," the Grand Master began, his words softening. "If Empire troops were raising the Imperial banner into the skies of Coruscant, I would still tear that contraption from orbit and cast it into the nearest star myself rather than have it used. Victorious empires can fall. Defeated republics can rise. But the devastation that... thing can unleash will never be healed. If this 'Project Vanguard' is used with the full backing of our leaders, the Republic as we know it will die anyway." The venom in Moho's tone as he described what had been presented to him as a 'thing' was potent, and it took the old Jedi a moment to centre himself again. His words were no metaphor, either; though the effort of such an act would surely destroy him, if it was possible at all, Moho would cast Project Vanguard into the void before he let them murder a planet's population with it. "We would have lost everything that the Republic claims to stands for. And for what? One, possibly two 'victories' in one or two battles? Even if you could convince the Empire that you could use Project Vanguard indefinitely, a deception which is highly unlikely to be effective for long, they will have won the war. Forevermore they will be able to point at whatever planet you destroyed and say 'Look at what the Republic has done. Look how far they have fallen. When will your home be next?'" By Alder's own words, Vanguard was a single-use weapon. It was not a sustainable, or viable option. It was a feeble shock tactic born of spite, one used at the expense of many innocent lives. In the darkness of that office, that faint light falling upon them, the end of everything they had both fought for loomed dangerously. "Supreme Chancellor." The words were quiet. They had tremble in them that sounded unnatural coming from that usually serene voice. He was beseeching Alder. "Do not let desperation destroy everything that makes the Republic worth fighting for. Please. They are..." Moho's words faltered, then his voice changed again. Deepening. Resonating with power. In that darkness, his eyes began to glow with light, of such a dazzling pale blue it was almost blinding, as the Force suddenly shunted him into a powerful Vision... A memory. "People. Living, struggling. Succeeding, failing. Flawed, perfect. Gone in a heartbeat, lost to anger and fear and pride. All that was and ever could be, countless threads of possibilities faded to nothingness. A wave of screams and mortal dread crashing down around me... then silence. Such terrible silence." The Grand Master gasped as the Vision-memory ended as sharply as it began, the light in his eyes fading away. Moho breathed heavily for a few moments as his senses returned to him, drawing on his training to regain control over his powers and emotions. It took him a few seconds to realise that he had spoken out loud. Sad eyes sought out Alder's own. "I know what it feels like when a planet dies, Supreme Chancellor. I could feel Taris as it perished. At the end of the war, I was trapped on a planet as it tore itself apart in a natural cataclysm expedited by our conflict. It is as if the breath is being forced from you, and you cannot regain it. A great cold overcomes you as all the warmth is stolen from your heart and spirit. You are crushed by the feeling of death's cloak draping across your body, haunted by the screams cut short that will echo through the Force forever." The hoverchair hummed gently as Moho moved closer to the man. "Those scars will carry into the future when we are both long gone. So the real question that remains is this: are you so desperate to save the Republic that you are willing to sacrifice the Republic?"

[Rugs]

For a moment, Alder’s thoughts drifted to his inauguration. The Senate vote had come strongly in his favor — it wasn’t unanimous, but neither had it ever really been in doubt after Naaden’s endorsement. He could remember, as he stood atop the dais in the Senate chamber’s heart, as he donned the blue robe of his office for the first time, feeling hope.

Hope that, despite the crucible the Republic endured the years prior, it would emerge stronger for surviving its trials. Hope for a brighter future, despite the Empire lurking in the Mid Rim and beyond. Hope for a future peace built on the back of cooperation with the Republic’s international partners to serve as a bulwark against Sith aggression.

Even then, he knew that hope was a powerful, but fleeting thing. It was one thing to hope--it was entirely another to actually bring that hope to fruition when dealing with hundreds of other people with their own goals and aspirations. And that was only in dealing with the Senate, to say nothing of dealing with independent worlds and nations.

Yet even as he navigated the Republic, as best he could, through the strains of rebuilding from one war and preparing itself for another, though the turbulent seas of a galaxy split between two powers, Alder always kept that spark, that feeling in the back of his mind. The Republic, for all her faults, stood for hope to countless trillions, for liberty and inclusion and a thousand other things. For safety from the whims of tyrants and despots. Shelter from the bloodthirst that swelled beyond the Republic’s borders.

But now, as the Republic found itself staring down the barrel of a cataclysmic conflict, Alder wondered how far hope alone could carry them? Would it ultimately topple the Sith Empire, should the Republic fall the Galaxy find itself under Empress Renata’s crushing heel? How many would suffer until it did?

Should the Republic hold back a tool that could turn the tide?

He wished he knew the answer.

“Grandmaster.” Alder sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples. A pressure had set into the sides of his head; it felt as if part of his brain were stuffed with cotton. “Believe me, I understand these concerns. For much of its history, this Republic has stood as the opposite of everything our neighbors to the Galactic north represent.”

There were, of course, gaps. The Pius Dea era, some seven and a half millennia prior, was a particularly dark stain on the Republic’s history. But it had returned from that darkness, with the Jedi Order’s aid.

“I will not casually employ such a terrible weapon of destruction, Grandmaster. Were it up to me, we wouldn’t stand on the edge of war and this would be no more concern than a hypothetical project years away from completion, if not destined for the scrapheap.” Alder laid his hands on his desk, one atop the other. He felt resigned to the coming storm, felt that no matter his efforts, some calamity was approaching, already set in motion by the actions of a few officers over Nar Shaddaa.

“If you want me to say that I will guarantee the greatest restraint that I can, that I will do all that I can to see this weapon is never used, then I can give you that promise wholeheartedly. But,” Alder’s lips pressed together, and he looked ruefully at the Grandmaster, “if you’d ask me to say that this weapon will never be used, no matter what course the war takes, if and when it comes...

A long pause. Alder shook his head sadly.

“Grandmaster, that is a promise I cannot make.”

[Blue]

At the Supreme Chancellor's words, Moho could not hide in his gaze the wave of disappointment he felt. He knew that Alder was not an evil man; the concept of ordering the deaths of millions or billions of people did not fill him with a sense of joy or satisfaction. But that did make such acts any less terrible. "The dead do not care for the motives behind their murders, Supreme Chancellor," Moho said, his voice overrunning with a quiet sadness. "Most of those that survive them care even less. They will not care if the use of this death machine prevented the Empire from taking their planet. All they will know is that the Republic destroyed their homes, and killed their friends and families. You will take everything from them... simply to make a statement." With a sigh, Moho stared into the darkness of the room. He could almost see the potential futures withering away into nothingness. He had much to meditate on this eve. "You are not a fool, Supreme Chancellor. So I would invite you to contemplate the ramifications utilising this will have, not on the Empire or the outcome of a war... but on the Republic itself, and the effect it will have on the people within it." Doubtless there would be some who would welcome the use of such a tool, and revel in the death and terror it brought to the Empire. But there would be many who would look upon the Republic and it's leaders with new eyes. Angry eyes. Fearful eyes. Alder's own eyes will be among that number, Moho felt. With a gentle hum, the Grand Master's hoverchair turned away from the seated man and began drifting towards the exit. "I... I have much I need to meditate upon. And I must convene the Council as soon as possible. We have much to discuss and, unlike during the last war, we have some time to debate on how the Order will involve itself in the upcoming conflict." The old Jedi paused in the doorway, his face showing in profile as he slightly turned. "Have no fear, Supreme Chancellor. I gave you my word that I would not reveal the details of this conversation with anyone, and that includes the members of the High Council. Should they learn of this... contingency, it will not be through me."

[Rugs]

“Grandmaster, I would beseech you,” Alder said as Moho began to leave, “to help me strive for peace. We both know what war, should it arrive on our shores, may bring. It is a small miracle that we are not already engaged in battle with the Empire on Nar Shadaa, with what our officers pulled.

“The last war took us by surprise in the beginning, but we thought we knew the conflict as it came. Then Taris happened.” Alder’s voice grew grim as he spoke. “Now we stand again on the edge, staring into the abyss, with the terrible knowledge of what we can unleash. Do you know what frightens me the most, Grandmaster? It is not this project we’ve created, though that chills me to my core.

“It is the unknown. If the last war with the Sith has taught me nothing else, it is that horrors beyond the imagination of any of us lurk in the fog of war, and I feel that once we stumble into the fog, we cannot help but blindly find them.” A joyless, mirthless laugh broke Alder’s lips as he leaned back. “What horrors await us on the other side, Grandmaster, if even we know now what devastation we can wreak? I pray to never find out.”

Silence hung in the air. Alder had not meant to arrest the Grandmaster so, on his way out, but his plea could not go unspoken. “I do not want this conflict, Grandmaster. Though we may disagree with some of our neighbors, the Galaxy has room enough for many different nations, many beliefs and cultures. Even the Mandalorians, for all their aggravations, are capable of living beside us in peace.

“But I fear this Galaxy cannot sustain two nations of such influence, with such opposing beliefs. I fear, Grandmaster, that this peace was destined to fail the moment the treaty was signed on Prazhi. Even so, we must strive for peace.” He looked to Moho, seeming for a moment to search for something. “Come with us to Prazhi, if you wish, when the arbitration begins. You’ve countless years of wisdom to call upon; perhaps you can help us avoid the catastrophe we’re staring down. I pray someone can.”

Finally, Alder’s face changed, a hardening of resolve apparent. “I was unfair to you earlier, Grandmaster, and to your Order. Tell your Council, if you must, though I would ask that you impress upon them the same gravity of this knowledge as I did. I’m sure you have much to prepare for, and I would not restrain your Order from knowing what it must, should conflict become inevitable.” It had taken the Jedi a long time to decide to join the war against the Sith last go around, to the Republic’s detriment.

Alder did not hold a grudge against them for it, as some did, but he would rather the Order’s decision-makers know what possibilities lay on the horizon than blindside them once again.

“I will consider what you have said, Grandmaster. I know this weighs heavily on you, on ways that I cannot understand. Know that I do not take this matter lightly, and will do all that I can to see that this weapon never needs to see use.

“But also know this — if the Sith attack us, there will be no honor, no glory, no reason in the war that follows. We’ve already fought to a truce once, and I cannot see the same happening again. The war that comes next will be one for survival, for them, for us, for everyone. It will be total, and all-consuming. And I will not allow the Empire to destroy this Republic that has stood for more than 20 millennia.”

Alder shook his head. He wanted to tighten his hand to a fist but kept it on the desk before him. “Whatever it takes.”

[Blue]

Moho paused at the door as Alder called out to him. He listened to the Supreme Chancellor's words, and with each syllable the old Jedi could hear an almost pleading tone. 'Give me another option. Please. Deliver me some miracle that will ensure that this project need never go beyond the hypothetical. Moho closed his eyes. "Whatever it takes." Images flashed, a kaleidoscope of potential events and outcomes. War. War. War. War. War. War. War. War. War. War. WAR. WAR WAR WAR WAR WAR WAR WAR WAR- The Grand Master sighed. "Trust me, Supreme Chancellor. I know that you would not utilise such a thing lightly, nor without immense guilt. That is not in question. And I will strive for peace. I always have and, Force willing, I will continue to do so for as long as my hearts beat. But as we both know, this arbitration is a delaying tactic at best. The most the Republic can do is try to mitigate the... moral justification the Empire will try to claim when they return to war. "They will use that justification as a weapon against the Republic, to underline everything they claim they stand against it for. That the Republic cannot be trusted to rule. That the Republic is corrupt. That, to its very core, it is a hypocritical system, and one that needs to be replaced. Whatever it takes." The old Jedi let that phrase, turned back upon Alder, hang in the air. "Instead of thinking on what you will do to ensure that the Republic endures, you should consider what the Republic will have in common with the Empire before this war is done. It will end when one side breaks, Supreme Chancellor. How you win this war is what determines if the Republic will be victorious. If you resort to the same measures as the Empire, it will not matter if they are destroyed. They will have won. For how can you claim to have defeated the Empire... if you have simply replaced it with another?" The hoverchair hummed once more, as the Grand Master continued his exit. "I will join you on Prazhi. My presence will make little difference to the outcome. But I will be with you." The words were spoken over his shoulder as Moho departed. He sounded very, very old.