Diplomatic Distress [Closed]

[Kiserius]

(Closed to Dutch and I)

The more things change, the more paperwork stays the same. Some ancient philosopher had a deeper quote about life that seemed similar, but Ylenic’s memory was failing him these days. Not because Ylenic was aged or particularly stupid, but because of the sheer amount of information being forced into his brain every single waking second of his day. Paperwork in the Jedi Diplomatic Corps had always been a serious issue: whenever another Jedi, say, crashed a starship into a planet, disrupted trade activities, ruined a speeder on lease, wounded, killed, or in any way harmed another creature in the course of their duties, the Jedi Diplomats would hear about it, in writing, usually along with some vocal demand for blood, credits, or both. This was in addition to the thousands upon thousands of documents they were forced to review in order to get a grasp on whatever diplomatic situation, no matter how minor, they had to intervene in. One would think this would become easier as one got older and became more knowledgeable, but at that stage even more paperwork would be added to one’s quota. The situation was already akin to sitting nervously in an ancient, teetering wooden house on the edge of an earthquake-prone cliff before the Sith invasion. Now, the best that one could hope for was to avoid getting wounded too badly by the falling debris.

Ylenic sat, or rather was strapped to, a small, uncomfortable chair in a private room at a twenty-four hour café directly across the Galactic Senate building on Coruscant. He was not being involuntarily confined: rather, the straps across his chest were to keep him from falling forward during and disrupting the massive, never-ending pile of datapads which loomed like a terrifying monster on the silvery-grey metallic table in front of him. Having not slept for three straight days, he had noticed a disturbing and immensely frustrating tendency to fall into microsleep, and every time he did he would knock over a stack of datapads, costing him even more valuable time to rearrange. So, he came up with the ingenius idea to use strong, synthetic straps to stop him from doing so, and it had been quite effective, if superlatively uncomfortable.

He used to have an office for such matters, but the ever-continuing budget cuts that were crippling all non-military sectors of the Republic had seen it sold for extra revenue, so he was forced to do his work here. He dared not attempt to go back to the Jedi Temple library, as it seemed that the Force would will even more diplomatic aides to him instead of the other few remaining Jedi Diplomats not on offworld missions or having already cast aside their normal duties to join the battle against the Sith. Ylenic hadn’t even pondered the question, given the fact that few in the Temple saw him these days and when they did he was in no mood to listen to anyone on any topic, much less politics which he was already saturated with.

Recovering from another round of microsleep, Ylenic rubbed his tired, baggy eyes, and focused them back on the screen of his datapad. Finishing up the last few words in a thirty-page response to the Senator of Corellia regarding Selonian waste disposal in a vital hyperspace trade route, he smiled. He had done it. It had taken three straight days of work without rest, but he had, mercifully, reduced his monthly paperwork backlog from ninety percent to a mere seventy-five. He could finally return home, and maybe get four to six hours of sleep. He estimated that it would only bring his backlog up to 78% if he did so.

That was until he heard the door of his room opening. He turned his head ever-so-slowly, and his stomach turned to lead at what he saw. A youth, a moderately tall human male with brown hair and blue eyes dressed in the purple and blue frock of an diplomatic aide, stood before him. He did not even bother to hide his surprise at the disheveled and sorry state of the Jedi before him, and surveyed Ylenic warily.

“More diplomatic reports for you to review, Master Jedi.” He said, sounding more than a little cautious as he removed another stack of datapads from the large backpack he wore.

“No.”

“I’m sorry,Master Jedi?”

Ylenic knew that using the Force to mindtrick the aide into sending the paperwork to a different diplomat was both immoral and bordering dangerously on the dark side of the force, but he was at least honest enough to admit that it tempted him greatly.

“Nothing…just put them...there…” Ylenic said, his voice hollow and weak, directing the page to place directly in front of him so that he could at least attempt to try to deal with some remotely current reports this week.

The page bowed, and quickly scurried off. Ylenic caught the sight of the early morning sun just seconds before the door closed once more, trapping him in a room of artificial light. Was it the fourth day now that he had gone without sleep? Occasionally someone would bring him more food, and he vaguely recalled handing someone a credit chit and to just serve him whatever they thought was best at the time. As the door closed, Ylenic began to talk to himself in a slightly delirious, quick voice tinged with exhaustion.

“They shade the truth, you know, when they tell young Jedi about the history of the Diplomats. I don’t even know if it’s intentional or just out of sheer ignorance, but they seem to all believe that they’ll be out there on the front lines, solving every major galactic dispute without bloodshed or massive commitments of time like some sort of grand sage or ancient religious prophet. Then, when they get in here and start getting a taste of real diplomatic work, this, they all suddenly have this massive change of heart, and say ‘I think I would be better suited to a different path, I’d rather be out there making a difference you know?’. Oh, I do know young ones, I do know. You may go out there with your fancy lightsaber skills and flashy force techniques to defeat the evil pirate or dark force user, but what do you really do? You cause more and more paperwork, and even more conflicts in the power vacuums you leave behind. Never do you think of the people who have to deal with this. Now, we have these Sith, and suddenly half of the Corps are perpetually assigned to urgent offworld missions thanks to the lack of any meaningful Republic presence on hundreds of worlds, and the rest of us are fighting a losing battle against this!” He said, gesticulating wildly against the unending stacks of datapads before him. “We’re the ones making the difference! We are! Every day, with every report, with every carefully phrased word saving hundreds, if not thousands of lives. You want to go out and save the galaxy? You can start here, filling out C78654 forms!” He railed on the verge of shouting, sounding much like a patriotic commanding rallying demoralized troops.

“…Is what I would like to say, but with this invasion, for every issue I solve, ten more crop up. It’s a losing battle. Only naïve Padawans believe that the galaxy is ever truly at peace even when it is not at war, but this has become intolerable. I have to decline offworld missions, and a holographic meeting is never as effective as a real one. I don’t, I…” Ylenic’s speech dropped off as he fell into another fifteen seconds of microsleep. “….uh, paperwork? Oh, look, I thought I just finished a stack a few minutes ago, but there’s another unfinished one right here…funny…did I even make any progress? How long was I out for?” He said, looking with confusion at the stack before him.

[Dutch]

It seemed that even people who were not attuned to the Force noticed Levin's presence. As he entered the cafe, a light flickered over head and several patrons turned to look at him. With the Jedi insignia emblazoned upon his sleeve, and the lightsaber that hung from his belt, it was blatantly obviously what Levin was. He reached out with the Force until he noted the presence he was seeking. Without a word to anyone he turned and proceeded to seek out his fellow Jedi. His pace was smooth and determined, as was his presence. Luckily nobody bothered the Jedi as he walked.

As Lev turned into Ylenic's room, his hand would push the door open gently and he would turn concerned eyes at the snoozing Camaasi. He walked right up to the Jedi as he slept, and peered over at his various reports. The less unsung of Jedi heroes. Most of the time, the most key heroes too. As Ylenic slept, Levin would lay a hand on his shoulder and with a push of the Force, use his presence to wash into Ylenic's, taking on a portion of the man's exhaustion. It wouldn't be any substitute for sleep, but once Ylenic fully came to consciousness, he would feel much better than before he snoozed.

"Mere seconds, Ylenic A'kla."

Levin said in a steady tone as he removed his hand from the Jedi. He would step away from the Camaasi to let him see who spoke easier, as well as gain his bearings better. Lev grasped his hands behind his back and looked down at Ylenic with concern. Jedi were taught to take care of their minds and bodies, but unfortunately with the current state of the galaxy, diplomats were never more harried. Levin's eyes would turn to the still open door.

"I am High Councilor Levin Caelum. I would have speak with you. Please, let us go outside. I would recommend fresh air. It will help."

His tone left no room for argument, nor discussion. He motioned for Ylenic to follow him with his head and turned to leave the room and its mountains of datapads. Exactly what the Caamasi needed at that moment.

[Kiserius]

Ylenic woke with a sluggish start the moment the Councilor’s Force presence washed into his. Flung back into reality,he knocked a stack of datapads off the table with a flail of his right arm as he instinctively reached for his lightsaber at his belt. He had always been pressed by his master to keep minor force wards active at all times, even when asleep, to ensure that he would have time to react in case of an unexpected attack, as his ability to naturally sense danger through the Force was weak. The fact that they had not picked up onto whoever was manipulating him until they were already well on their way to achieving their desired goal, and had even placed their hand upon him, indicated how ragged and exhausted he had become.

“Mere seconds, Ylenic A’kla”

The stack fell with a loud clatter onto the scuffed, scarred metallic floor, landing at the feet of the stranger. Ylenic for the first time raised his furtive, alert, if foggy eyes to the mysterious speaker and possible assailant, hands milliseconds away from igniting the lightsaber to slash the strap that held him to the chair. A soothing presence, easing much of his fatigue, gently flowed into him. The way the user manipulated the Force, combined with the insignia of a Jedi Temple Healer upon the jacket he wore, stayed his pressing on the ignition button. Ylenic raised his head to look at the face of the unknown approached, while also reaching out with a strong telepathic burst as he did so to ascertain his identity. Was it rude to do to another force wielder’s mind? Yes. Necessary for survival in a world full of deceptions, dishonesty, and darkness for a Caamasi with weak senses? Certainly.

He came into strong mental resistance as he sought to gleam a little information about the odd Human-Apithiri before him. Whatever the identity of the man before him, he was at, or so close as to not matter, as telepathically skilled as him, which narrowed the pool of possible candidates immensely. He found the answer for that moments before the words reached his ears from the little he was able to gleam, and which caused him to immediately cease his short, yet furious mental assault as his eyes met those of the Councilor, which soon turned toward the door.

"I am High Councilor Levin Caelum. I would have speak with you. Please, let us go outside. I would recommend fresh air. It will help.” He said in a rather authoritative, but certainly not threatening tone, before turning and beginning to walk outside. Ylenic meekly nodded, and undid the straps holding him to the chair. He sagged forward the moment he did so, and it took quite a bit of willpower to raise himself from his chair. His legs were weak and numb, almost as if they were not a part of his body, and he had to hobble the first few steps before he was able to find a slow, if careful stride to follow his superior.

As he approached him from behind, Ylenic began to speak in an apologetic, soft tone. He hoped he had not offended the Councilor with his mental barrage, of which he most certainly would have been able to sense at his level of skill.

“I apologize for intruding upon your mental privacy, Councilor, but as a diplomat you can leave little room for uncertainty, especially now.”

[Rugs]

{Here I am! Finally >_> Sorry for the delay. I was fairly distracted while writing this, so hopefully it makes sense xD}

Where did all the time go?

Just a lone month ago, Locke Nemsee had determined that things would be getting easier for him. Time would be getting looser, or as loose as time could be for a Jedi with two students in the midst of a blooming war, and he would have much-needed opportunities to enrich both his own walk as a Jedi and those of his students.

A brief reprieve. A few quiet moments before he and his students were swept away into the storm of conflict again. Was it too ask?

Apparently.

Not two days after he'd made his determination, he'd been given another round of investigations to carry out. Some gang in the lower levels of the city was making overtures to the Sith, trying to find ways to curry favor. And why wouldn't they; the Republic wasn't kind to them. Perhaps the Sith would provide a means to make a better way for themselves.

Unfortunately, they weren't the cleverest of folk. Locke's investigation had been easy and swift, and just a few days ago the Coruscant Security Force had swept in and dealt with them.

Also unfortunately, even a swift investigation took a good deal of time. Contact had to be made, facts checked and double checked, traps set...

Needless to say, before Locke realized it, the time he'd had other plans for had melted away. And between his investigation and the ongoing tutelage of his students, he'd had little time for himself.

Jedi or not, that took its toll.

The few days since had been much less busy, however, and Locke was both rested an in high spirits, as ever.

Presently he was out and about in the city after meeting with a contact he kept. Being an Investigator required a steady amount of contact-grooming and keeping, updates and continual reports on movement and activity in the underworld. But this, Locke was used to.

Only a half hour earlier he'd decided that he would grab some lunch while he was out, and then it'd be back to the Temple and back to work with his students. It was a particular place Locke was going to get his food--a cafe near where he'd had his meeting. Good food--sandwiches in particular--inexpensive, nice, open location. He liked it.

Locke arrived some short minutes later, walking casually with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. Before he even saw the place, he could smell the scent of food in the air, could feel the familiar presences of the workers there.

But, curiously, a more powerful familiar presence shined over them.

"Well, if it ain't Levin Caelum," he exclaimed as he arrived, just at the moment the healer came through the cafe's door. Locke grinned broadly, obviously pleased at seeing his elder Jedi. He considered Levin a friend; a good one, even if he could work the healer's nerves from time to time. "Swear it's been an age since I saw you last!" Suddenly Locke paused, lifting a hand, his grin growing as he suddenly remembered.

"And I just finished that jar of candy I got from you, Lev. I'd love another, if you'd be so kind sometime. Without the whole... appointment thing." He cleared his throat. "If you'd be so kind..."

Locke's attention passed from Levin to the figure behind him, who was radiating his own presence in the Force. He was a furry fellow, if ruffled looking. Locke didn't recognize him, but with his robes and presence with Lev, he was willing to bet his left boot that he was a Jedi.

So best to make introductions, then.

"Don't think we've met before, stranger." He extended a hand, roguish features warm and friendly. "Name's Lock. Pleasure t'meet you."

[Kiserius]

(Sorry for taking so long to reply).

Ylenic, preoccupied with a worry that he had in some way offended Caelum through his knee-jerk telepathic probe, only picked up on the mental presence of another approaching the two with his passive telepathic sonar which skimmed surface thoughts and intentions just moments before the rather gruff looking, muscled, olive-skinned human with a lightsaber strapped to his belt addressed him. Ylenic sensed no malicious thoughts from the man, at least those not well concealed and buried beneath the surface, and decided not to probe further so as not to offend yet another Jedi, though from what he could sense of his mental blocks he was not as skilled as Caelum or he in the arts of telepathy, though he certainly was above that of the average Jedi.

He chided himself behind his mental barriers. First he had not picked up on Caelum’s presence, and he had only just barely managed to pick up this new Jedi seconds before he interacted with them because Caelum had eased, if ever so slightly, his exhaustion. His former master, if she had seen him run himself down so much that his best means of preternatural defense was in this dilapidated state, likely would have whacked him across his snout more than a few times with her datapad.

Reaching out with the Force, he extended his telepathic sonar as far as he dared in his state, all-too-aware that it was not nearly as lengthy as his normal. It was still far too short to pick up a possible long-range threat, but it was the best he could do, and would just have to hope that his reflexes had improved well enough over the years in case someone had a sniper rifle trained on him. Some might call Ylenic paranoid with his need to ascertain identities and intentions from a ridiculously safe distance at nearly all times, but he was not exceptionally gifted or even mediocre with the supernatural reflexes most Jedi seemed to have. Yes, he had learned through years of painstaking experience to almost unconsciously hold light contact shields that would harden into a protective barrier if something approached them at high speed, but he had little to no desire to have their strength tested. He had learned that that it was far better to be regarded as paranoid about danger than to not be. His long years as a Jedi Diplomat had taught him lesson many times over.

He offered a slight, polite bow to the Jedi Knight before him as he finished casting his senses outward before extending his golden-furred hands in greeting and clasping the hands of his human compatriot, lifting his tired, bloodshot blue-green eyes to that of his fellow Jedi. He placed a forged smile upon his face for the sake of appearances, though his body was still too worn to feel any sense of real mirth “Pleasure to meet you, Lock. I am Ylenic, and I, like our budget, work in the ever-shrinking diplomatic corps.” He managed to not-quite-rasp in a gentle, low tone before readjusting his ruffled ying-yang robes into something bordering on the very fringes of acceptable, scrupulously wiping off a few stale crumbs that had stuck on a fold in his robes.

Stale? How many days was I in that backroom again…? Ylenic wondered, with a mortified look on his face. I pray to whatever divine being may or may not exist that those senatorial pages didn’t miss any deadlines….