Good, Strong Hands

[Blue]

Rugs Nar Shadda was carpeted with the dead and the dying. He could feel all of them, pinpricks of suffering and pain echoing through the Force The battle had been a desperate, brutal affair, as most battles were. At least, that was what Moho had been informed, not having been here when it began or finished. He had been back on Coruscant, tending to the Temple and the younglings there, despite his initial desire to be involved in the- Victory achieved, a singular moment of ecstasy as the Spire burns in the cold void of space. Punctuated by betrayal: screaming, fire, agony... silence. The short Vision slammed into Moho's mind as he moved over to the next cot in the temporary shelter for the wounded and broken. They had been coming to him every few hours over the last few days, ever since he had sensed the death of the Spire and the wave of fury that announced the rogue Republic ship firing on their erstwhile allies. Snatches of moments from the doomed vessel, the anger of the person responsible, the united horror as the implications revealed themselves. Little parts in the mosaic of catastrophes to come. The Grand Master was not able to sit in comfort back on Coruscant. Even if it was but for a short time, he would aid those who needed him here. The old Jedi arrived at the next person, his hoverchair humming gently as he stopped at the soldier's side. She was slick with sweat, gripped in the throes of a fever and with bloody bacta bandages covering her body. Her eyes, bloodshot and wild, rolled around in their sockets, looking up at the Prellian. He could feel the fear rolling off her in almost tangible waves, mixed in with regret and anger. There is always anger. Moho offered her a small smile. "Be still, friend. I am here to aid you," he said, his gentle voice tinged with the flanging effect all Prell had. His amber eyes closed as he reached out to her through the Force, inspecting her ailments. Torn... shattered... burning. Would be doomed were it not for the absence of the Chorus and the destruction of the Spires. Will heal alone, but will take many months of rehabilitation to be made whole again, like most of her comrades. So many have fallen on this world... But not these ones. Not today. Moho emptied his mind and opened himself to the life force of the galaxy, allowing it to pour into him, then outwards into the wounded soldier. The old Jedi directed the energies through her body, knitting, salving, soothing, until all that was left was her weariness. The physical self relaxed. The spiritual self eased. They will be whole again. When he opened his eyes, the soldier was already sleeping soundly. His smile grew a little, knowing that she would be back on her feet within a day or so, then sighed as the fatigue within himself grew just a bit more. The Grand Master had been performing such acts for the better part of several days and his own energy was not without limit. Regardless, he had extended his assistance to the Empire wounded, though considering the current climate, his offer had been predictably, and understandably, rebuked. Still, there were more that needed his aid and, while he still had breath, he would help. Rest would come soon enough, but there was still work to do here and now. Speaking of which, I sense Master Nemsee coming closer. The Prellian had called the Jedi Master, before setting out from Coruscant, with a request to meet should his injuries allow. It seemed that they would, so Moho arranged his thoughts to the closing matter at hand. Despite the chaos around us now, we need to plan ahead, prepare for the things to come. Otherwise, more than we could ever imagine may be lost.

[Rugs]

It was, at a glance, difficult to see that Nar Shaddaa was the site of a resounding victory against the Archeri Chorus.

The flames were largely gone now. The skies were no longer blackened with endless smoke, though a haze lingered still in places. For those minor improvements, the city itself still looked like it was fresh off a date with a fiery wrecking ball.

Locke’s heart ached as he looked at the devastation. Crumbled buildings, with untold multitudes of the dead still to be dug up along the long, winding road to recovery. His heart ached for the families suddenly missing members, for the long friends separated by the chaos that had visited their world.

It ached for his homeworld.

In the far distance, the second Spire jutted out of the remains of the Cerbozz Pit. Sharp angular tears exposed its innards where shards of crystal broke loose — in those places where the fleet’s turbolasers didn’t melt its hull outright. Its jagged, broken peak hung ominously over some nearby buildings, with the Spire itself tilted drunkenly to the side.

I could do without ever seeing you again, Locke thought as his small transport ship glided through the atmosphere. The Spire, blessedly, hadn’t climbed high enough to completely destroy itself upon hitting the ground when the Coalition blew it out of the sky.

As much as Locke could go the rest of his life without seeing another Archeri anything, he’d seen the reports of the damage the debris from the first Spire, crashing down from orbit, had left on the city.

It was a cruel twist of fate that victory had killed countless more people.

“We’re making final approach, Master Jedi,” the pilot called back. Locke, still half-absorbed in his own thoughts grunted an acknowledgment as the ship shifted toward the ground.

He’d only just returned to the Y’toub system an hour or so earlier. Left to his own devices, he would have remained longer on Circumtore, but even he couldn’t turn down an audience when the Grandmaster called.

For what, he did not know, though there had been little in the way of good news for the Republic since the Chorus’ defeat.

As the ship landed, near the back a small camp of sorts that had been set up to take in and treat the sick and the wounded, Locke thanked the pilot and stepped out. Nar Shaddaa was always an assault on the senses, but Locke found himself almost overwhelmed by the immense suffering that shrouded the world like a heavy blanket.

There’s still a lot to be done, he thought, jaw set, and not much time to do it.

The Grandmaster was easy to find, both with his eyes and through the Force. Locke went to him, his pace quick but not hurried.

“Grandmaster,” he called as he approached, “it’s good to see you again.” He glanced around, grey eyes taking in their surroundings. “It’s quite a bit different than the Bright Horizon, isn’t it? Though I can’t say that it’s better...”

[Blue]

Moho was just finishing up with another patient when Master Nemsee arrived at the medical camp. The man was relatively unharmed, but was catatonic from the things he had witnessed; a much more difficult thing to heal than a wound of the body. Unwinding, untangling, smoothing out the knots of trauma piece by piece, the old Jedi helped the soldier until they were lulled into a deep sleep, where he could then process his experiences naturally and without the glaring pain in his psyche crippling his progress. The pale blue light that infused his eyes faded as the Grand Master turned his hoverchair to face Master Nemsee. The human Jedi spoke- Quiet gives way to a sharp tongue, but with a bright heart. He will go his own way... a narrow way. Many threats of falling, but that bright heart will guide him, keep him safe. Pain, to remind him that he must be better, stronger than the darker urges that lurk within us all... "And you as well, Master Nemsee," Moho replied, shrugging off the sudden flash of Vision with practiced ease, the youthful face from his memories reforming into the one the man before him now wore. "The scale is certainly much larger here than that of a single spaceship, true. But take heart in the knowledge that our actions that day spared those hardy souls on Attahox a similar fate." Despite the casual manner of Master Nemsee's words, Moho could easily feel the pain in the human Jedi's heart, as well as the physical aches he still had as a result of his conflict against the Chorus. It would appear that he was still not fully whole... perhaps as a result of the request Moho himself has sent. The Prellian offered the man a small, sad smile. "Thank you for coming to meet me, especially after the trials you have so recently faced. Please, give me a moment." The Grand Master's eyes close once more and he reached out through the Force. It was becoming... difficult. Pinpricks of pain flickered along his carapace as he once more poured out his will, bidding flesh to heal, soul to ease, mind to rest. Master Nemsee had already been treated for the most part, and was of sturdy mental stock. It would be only a small help, perhaps, but it was the least that Moho owed to him. As he worked, the old Jedi touched upon the ache in the man's heart and- Home, where it began. Loss, anger, vengeance... denied. A reconfirmation of ideals, a step back from the brink- A moment of softness, but duty calls. Turning away, a hidden thought, a concealed feeling, a face begins to form- Moho stopped. It was not the first time he had. That was not for him. It had always been easy from the old Jedi to follow the lines of truth in a person's heart, most people's motives and secrets taking but a moment's thought to unravel and lay bare before him. But the Grand Master felt no darkness in Locke, no looming threat nor pull into danger, and so he had no business intruding. If this man required his advice or assistance in whatever matter lay within, then he would come to him on his own. Until then, it was not for him. Moho opened his eyes and nodded to Master Nemsee. "Come. Let us walk for a moment," the old Jedi invited, turning his hoverchair and sending it forwards at a slow pace to the outside. Once they were away from the majority of the people around them, Moho got on with the matter at hand. "The position of Grand Master is a role I am, in all honesty, still adjusting to," the Prellian confessed as the two slowly moved. "I have been on hand to help and advise several Masters of the Order and Grand Masters over the years, but sitting in one of those seats myself has been an... interesting change. To be responsible not just for advising on matters of import, but enacting them. But thankfully, I have many talented individuals with which I can confer on such occasions." The hoverchair slowed to a halt and Moho turned to face Master Nemsee with a smile. "Which brings me to the reason I asked you to meet me, Master Nemsee. I have been thinking on how the Order has been performing over the last few decades and have come to the thought that we have been far too slow and reactionary. A crisis occurs and we send our brethren from the nearest temple, which is too often some considerable distance away. I am of the opinion that perhaps we need to establish some form of... waystation. Several in fact. Each one located in each of the systems of the Republic, and perhaps even a scattering in the more neutral systems, in places that Jedi may not be wholly welcome, manned by a small dedicated unit from our Order. "I believe that you would be one of the best positioned to advise me on this idea, which is why I asked you to come here. You have much experience in working and acting independently in places that would not take kindly to your allegiances. What are your thoughts? Do you think that this is a workable concept, or have any thoughts on how we would proceed with such an endeavour?" Moho's soft voice came to silence as he finished offering his thoughts, waiting for Master Nemsee's reaction and opinions.

[Rugs]

Locke smiled as the Grandmaster spoke. “Attahox and Force only knows how many other places,” he said. “For all they spoke of order and harmony, the Archeri were some mean fuckers.” A moment of consternation, a thoughtful expression passing over his face as Locke matched his language with his audience, but he shrugged mentally and offered Moho a quiet little smile.

He was who he was, and who he’d always been. Surely the Grandmaster had heard a bit of profanity in his many, many decades.

“Anyway, happy to visit,” he went on, ignoring the momentary slip as if it hadn’t happened. “I suspect recovery will take some time, but it’s good to see things here are better than they were — low bar though that may be.”

Locke began to lift an eyebrow as the Grandmaster asked for time, but the deliving of the Force from the elder Jedi soon washed over him. To Locke, healing always felt like being dropped into cool, clear waters. The sensation was nearly enough to knock the breath from him, but almost as soon as it began, it had passed.

In its wake, Locke felt a bit stronger, felt like he could walk with more spring in his step. The kolto tank had been thorough in healing his not-insignificant wounds — they always were — but had offered precious little for rekindling the energy his body expended day after day to recover. Traveling to Nar Shaddaa might have provided more rest, but it was a short hop through hyperspace from Circumtore.

He felt a calm that had eluded him for weeks, save for that quiet meeting with Lidah before he departed for Nar Shaddaa, as if a mountain had, just for now, been lifted from his shoulders. It’ll be back, he thought, rolling his shoulders. Duty never leaves us for long.

“Thank you,” he said to Moho with a grateful nod of his head. At Moho’s invitation to walk, Locke motioned for him to lead on and fell in step beside him.

Moho’s proposition was an interesting one. Unexpected, though Locke truly hadn’t known what he’d wish to discuss for the meeting. But to Locke’s eyes, the idea was a sound one.

“As you know, my views on this are shaped by being an Investigator,” he began, adding a quick smile, “you know — staying out of the house for a long time and giving you all sorts of paperwork messes to clean up.

“However,” he went on, tone growing more serious, “I think there’s merit to your idea. The Galaxy is hurting, Moho.” He leaned against a wall — the remains of some building that had fallen in on itself. The city, marred and scarred and broken, stretched into the distance. Yet all around, its people were emerging to mourn their dead and lost, to take stock of what remained, and start rebuilding for the future.

A very long road remains, Locke thought with a sigh. “And I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon, no matter how badly we want it to. How many places were still dealing with coming out from the war’s shadow before the Archeri showed up and knocked it all down again?”

Locke crossed his arms and frowned, deep in thought. “Though we’ve stopped the Archeri, I honestly don’t know that I can say the Galaxy’s a safer place now than it was before they showed up. Not after what happened up there.” He motioned skyward with a jerking motion of his head, a sort of reverse-nod. Though he’d been unconscious at the time, he’d found out plenty about the disaster after the battle concluded. It was a small miracle that the Sith hadn’t reignited the war there and then.

“We need people to believe in us — to believe in the Republic— if we’re going to weather whatever shitstorm is coming, Moho” Locke said. “And getting out there, being seen for a force for good. The people out here,” he motioned broadly at the city, “go through the same shit as the people on Coruscant. They’ve even got an invasion under their belt now, too. Show them that we care, make their lives a bit better, maybe you’ll build some goodwill. Might even find some allies you’d never expect.” His voice turned thoughtful at the last.

“I can’t pretend to say that I’m your guy for figuring out the logistics of it all,” he said, looking at the Grandmaster, “but I think it’s a good call. Maybe start with a focus in a few systems outside our normal areas and spread out from there.”

[Blue]

Moho listened intently to Master Nemsee as he spoke. He did not take any offense at the language the younger Jedi employed, though he perhaps raised a single brow in teasing chastisement, a small upward quirk playing about his mouth. The more solemn matter at hand soon overtook any jovial mood, however, as the Jedi Investigator voiced his thoughts on the idea brought before him. Master Nemsee's words triggered a flow of unpleasant images and sensations from the Force in Moho's mind that the Prell brought under control with practiced efficiency, focusing instead on what that man before him was saying. The normally serene and genial expression that commonly alighted on the Grand Master's face faded somewhat, however, under the influx of harrowing visions that assaulted him. He turned his broad face to meet Master Nemsee's as he finished speaking, pain clearly showing in his amber eyes. "There is, I am afraid, a dark truth in the universe," Moho uttered, his usually calm and soothing voice wearying and showing the weight of his long years for perhaps the first time in centuries. "And that is that the galaxy is always hurting. Three hundred and fifty years, Master Nemsee, I have been an active member of the Order, and I learned long ago that galactic suffering is cyclical, endless." After a pause, the old Jedi's expression shifted into one of quiet determination, and he smiled strongly at the man. "Which is all the more reason that we do all that we can to instill some hope into a vast and, far too often, cold galaxy." Pondering on Master Nemsee's advice, Moho found himself nodding. Yes, it would perhaps be far more effective to have these potential waystations in areas that Jedi have had, up until now, not been overly active in. At least at first; it would be unwise to leave systems inside the Republic undermanned. "Your suggestion has much merit," the Grand Master said. His gaze travelled along the broken landscape that surrounded them, feeling the low throb of misery and pain through the Force that currently all but consumed the planet. "There have been many places that our Order does not venture without strong reason for far too long. As you say, people suffer here just as much as they might in the Republic's core systems. Or in the Empire... though I fear those territories are far beyond our ability to help, as things stand. But we would have to be careful; such potential waystations would eventually attract those with baleful intent. Perhaps these places should be capable of moving swiftly to new locations should they be discovered, and operate... what is that phrase? 'Under the radar'? Jedi placed there would have to be able to act with subtly, be able to blend in with their surroundings readily." The more he spoke, the more Moho was sure they were on the right path. Though such covert acts would likely get them little in the way of 'good publicity', it might go some way to changing hearts and minds, as well as doing the good that Jedi were supposed to be doing in the first place. "We should also have some in the border systems of the Republic, those places that have seen the heaviest of the wars and are furthest from safety. There many in the Senate who continue to hold the Order in grave contempt for our perceived inaction when the Empire attacked. Many of whom, I fear, would seek to dismantle or even completely tear down the Jedi through their rage at their losses. Their emotions are not with basis, and we cannot be seen to stand idle when other Republic systems are in need of aid."

[Rugs]

Locke nodded as Moho drew on his centuries of wisdom to paint a broader picture of Galactic unease. “That is fair,” he said. “There’s always some wrongs out there that will need righting. Probably always will be.” Three-hundred fifty years of serve stretched nearly to the time of the Jedi Civil War. Locke didn’t know the Grandmaster’s age, but he surmised he’d probably at least been alive through the conflict, and the devastation it’d wrought on the Order and Galaxy at large.

One cataclysm to another, he mulled. Cyclical indeed.

“But, as you say, that does not mean we can’t be a bastion of hope for the people who live and breathe now. That’s our calling,” he added more forcefully, “for the Jedi and the Republic.” His brows furrowed as a frown crossed his face. Memories of Bothawui lay dormant in the wake of the Battle of Nar Shaddaa, but they still bubbled to the surface, when given the chance.

For all his love — for all his soul-deep dedication to the Galactic Republic and its causes —
Locke took no pride in the actions it took to contain the Archeri Plague outbreaks on the world.

He let the disturbance roll over him like a wave, here and then gone, as he refocused his attention on Moho. He continued to nod, adding grunts of agreement as the Grandmaster laid out his idea — with a laugh as Moho worked in a colloquialism he obviously didn’t use very often.

“Yep, you nailed it,” he said, grinning broadly. His words could have applied to Moho’s thoughts or his use of ‘under the radar,’ but the stupid smile on Locke’s face made evident which he meant. “Why, by the end of the week, I’d bet we could have you in a commercial with some fresh hyperstep beats or whatever the hell the kids are listening to these days.

“But, I think you’re right,” he went on, grin fading as he returned to the matter at hand. “It would do well, I think, for the Order to show the systems that have the most to lose if — when — conflict resumes with the Empire that we’re here for them, even once the fighting is done.” Locke folded his arms and sighed, letting the air blow wearily out of his lips. “I’d put credits that what happened here has shortened the time until that day comes, for better or worse.”

Almost certainly worse. Even if the Republic finally destroyed the Empire in the coming war, untold billions would suffer in the doing so. Locke looked at Nar Shaddaa, at the trails of smoke drifting lazily from the ruined city. He’d been at Taris, years ago when the Empire and Republic clashed for control of the world, and in doing so, left it a virtually unlivable hellhole.

How many more Tarises would follow when fighting resumed?

“Speaking of, there is one thing we may need to be wary of, Grandmaster,” Locke said. “When the last war started, the Sith went out of the way to target worlds that hosted Jedi enclaves. Rhen Var, Dantooine — both fell in the early stages of the Sith invasion.

“I don’t think we’re talking about something so broad as an official enclave or Temple, but a Jedi presence on these worlds may make them targets for future Sith assaults.”

[Blue]

Moho could not help but feel a strong surge of pride in Master Nemsee as the human contemplated his darker thoughts. A perfect example of how Jedi should deal with their feelings: not denying the emotion but acknowledging it, allowing it in... and then letting it go. The old Grand Master let out a strong, melodic laugh at the younger man's words about commercials. The idea was a ridiculous one, the image a fresh dose of levity in what was a darker topic. "I fear that such a commercial would negatively impact the Order's image in the galaxy, doubly so if I were to helm such a project," Moho said, his smile matching Master Nemsee's. The old Jedi sobered as Master Nemsee continued, laying out his thoughts further. The Prell nodded as he contemplated the human's worries. "Hence the reason for such installations to be surreptitious," Moho confirmed reassuringly. "The Jedi's presence would still be felt, as our ability to react to situations would be greatly increased, but the base of operations for these small bands of our brethren would be secret, lowering the odds of those with malicious intent discovering their locations and endangering the planets that they are there to protect. Such waystations would also provide much less of a temptation for such targeted strikes, as the assaults you mentioned were symbolic for the Empire, an announcement of their presence and, to their minds, their strength. Besides, should we spread these waystations out in the Republic systems they are assigned to, the Empire would be forced to spread their forces dangerously thin to strike at them all should they be discovered. An unlikely occurrence but, should they do so, it would only serve to make the Republic military's task easier." The war to come. Yes, Moho had no doubt that it was looming ahead of them all, like a shadow in the stars. The Empire would need no further encouragement than the Republic striking at them so brazenly, even if the responsible party was a rogue element and being brought to account. The Empress had no other choice, chained as she was to her throne. Any other option would make her look weak to her Order, and to many of the Empire that she had fashioned herself as a force of nature to; such was the tightrope she allowed herself to be walked upon. Images once more poured into Moho's thoughts, the Force pushing into his conscious mind like a waterfall. The Grand Master looked away from his fellow Jedi so that Master Nemsee would not have to witn- Jedi, people he had know as younglings, taught from childhood, cut down like wheat before the scythe- Families, Imperial architecture surrounding them, violently weeping at the news their loved ones will never return home to them- Planets' skies burn- Temples crumble- Blood- Love- Ash- Tears- Anger- Silence. The cold silence that could have been, had another path been walked... "I am very proud of you, Locke," Moho announced quietly. With the Visions receding, he turned his hoverchair to face the human once more, his amber eyes gleaming with the aforementioned emotion. "You are, to me, a Jedi paragon of balance. You accept the emotion you feel, but do not allow it to consume or control you. You welcome the idea of change and diversity of thought, but temper it with caution and wisdom. Were I not so certain that the idea would bring you dismay, I would have recommended to have you join the High Council some years past." The old Jedi's lips quirked upwards at the thought. No indeed, that thought would not suit your own position one bit. A pity. Your humility, common sense, and excellent humour would have been a breath of fresh air in the Chamber, once upon a time.

[Rugs]

“That all seems well to me, then,” Locke said with a short nod of agreement as the Grandmaster offered his further assessment of the proposed Jedi waystations. “Anything we do would carry some element of risk, and we can’t run from that.” To run from it would be to cave to fear.

If the Jedi, guardians of the peace, defenders of the people of the Galaxy and protectors of the Republic, caved to fear, who would stand against it?

Locke stood on the edge of saying more, but Moho turned away. The Force swirled strangely around the Grandmaster; Locke could feel eddies and currents shifting that he didn’t quite understand. “Grandmaster?” he asked, face softening with concern. He’d heard that Moho was a seer — that visions occasionally came to him — though he never knew the veracity of those stories. He had no reason to believe that the Order would lie about it, but he had never known Moho very closely, beyond a working relationship.

Whatever fell upon the Grandmaster passed quickly enough, and he turned to Locke, warmth on his face.

"I am very proud of you, Locke," he said. Locke blinked, taken by surprise as Moho offered more praise. Were he a few years younger, his face might have flushed.

Instead, he wore a small smile and offered a deep nod — it was more a shallow bow — to the aged master. “Thank you, Grandmaster,” he said. “I’ve had many good mentors over the years. To call them ‘good,’ in fact, is to do them a disservice.”

His head swam at the suggestion of being raised to the Council. It was a passing thing; Moho knew him well, to know a seat on the Council would be distressing. Though all of the reasons aren’t ones he knows, Locke thought sadly. They’re not ones he can know, or he might not be so proud.

“I don’t think I’d be a great fit for the Council,” Locke said with a laugh. “I’m not the best with protocol, and I’m sure I’d drive some of you crazy before long.” To sit the Council carried an expectation--a responsibility--to be an example for all Jedi to follow. Locke strove, in many ways, to be the best Jedi he could, but he was not that. He could never be, if the Order were to stay true to its ideals.

“I was born here, you know,” he said suddenly. He motioned at the city beyond. “Nar Shaddaa. I don’t know where, exactly, but somewhere on this moon. My mom and pop got stranded here, down on their luck. They never recovered.” Anger flashed in him and was gone. His mother had turned to prostitution to bring in money while his father fell to drug addiction before the same petty gangster who ruined their lives slaughtered them. He hadn’t learned their fates until his Trial of Spirit.

He’d never really known his parents, but the knowledge still hurt, all these years later.

“Way I see it, their story gets repeated out here every day, countless times. If not here, then somewhere else. I know I can’t save everyone from that — I’m only one man — but if I can make these places a little bit better for being here, day by day, then I think that counts for something.” The smile he gave Moho as he turned to the Grandmaster was rueful, but earnest. “I will go wherever you send me, of course, but I think I serve best out here, in the wilds.”

[Blue]

Moho listened quietly as Master Nemsee noted the supposed defects that should bar him from becoming a member of the Council. An appreciation of ones own weaknesses and shortcomings was always healthy, but there was something more to it than that here. Something beneath, well hidden. Doubtless it has something to do with what I sensed within him when I was healing him. Some secret he is hiding. An uncertainty, fueled by internal conflict? Once again, Moho discarded it. Whatever it was, it had not changed the man before him for the worst nor was there any seed of ill portent sprouting in his heart as of yet. "You underestimate yourself once again," the Grand Master chastised mildly, his thoughts hidden behind his kindly amber eyes. "I am particularly gifted in seeing into peoples' hearts, Master Nemsee. Do you believe that I would entertain an idea such as your elevation to the Council if I did not think you capable, or if I could sense the smallest iota of darkness growing strong within you?" One of the giant pincers that made up the Prell's primary limbs reached forwards and prodded Master Nemsee gently in the chest as the old Jedi spoke, right where the man's heart would be. "We are none of us perfect. Not you. Not I. We are faced every day with temptation, as all those with power are. But within your heart I sense the strength to do good, despite the obstacles thrown against you. You think yourself unworthy because you are unconventional? Because you do not see eye-to-eye with others of our Order? Because you may have failed, in some way, to uphold our teachings? You are here, Locke. You are set on saving lives. You are striving to do good. You. Are. Worthy. And I would protect that heart of yours, with every fiber of my being, if you would let me. I understand that there are things that a person must face on their own, burdens that they must carry alone. But I would help where I can... even if that help is simply holding off the assault of bureaucracy so that we may strive to better the places where we tread." There was a hint of a chuckle as he spoke those last words. In truth, such duties were tiresome to Moho, though he understood the need behind them. But he would not allow such things stand in the way of his brothers and sisters doing what they could to help the people they had sworn to protect, just as he would not permit rigidity of thought to hamper the growth of the Jedi under his care. Master Nemsee spoke upon his past, something that Moho had some knowledge of. He had been a member of the Council when the Jedi who had found the child, Master Tiino Xeis, had brought the young Locke for teaching in the ways of the Order. They were so alike, teacher and student. He remembered- Sneaking out of the room of his student, Master Xeis chuckled. Turning, the Iktotchi spotted me. I raised my eyebrow and he put a finger to his mouth conspiratorially. "Let's keep this between us, eh, Moho? It's a... surprise." Audacious. Charismatic. A good heart. A perfect master for the boy. I chuckled in turn. He felt the disturbance within Master Nemsee has he recited his recollections, like uneven ripples on a smooth pond's surface. It was one of the reasons that many Jedi forbade their charges to ever visit or even know of their origins, as such things can cause a great swelling of emotion. Moho agreed, up to a point. When young, such things could cause much damage. But when they had matured, to the point that they had the training to withstand such knowledge, some truths needed to be uncovered for them to grow. "That is the thing about the big picture," Moho responded. "It is made up of an incalculable amount of smaller pictures. Change but a single one, and it will alter the fabric of the universe in ways nobody could possibly imagine or foresee." The old Jedi spoke with a powerful authority. He had seen such things more than once in his lifetime of receiving Visions; an act of seemingly inconsequential kindness, blossoming into something that could shake the galaxy to its very core. After a moment of quiet, a playful glint appeared in the Grand Master's eyes. "Apart from me, of course! I am the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, don't you know? Knowing everything is part of the job description." The smile on his face turned into a low chuckle at his own joke, before he turned his thoughts back to the matter before them. "No, a place on the Council may not be for you. But perhaps a similar purpose elsewhere. Once I have conferred with others of our Order and we have made the necessary funding and manpower calculations, I would have you in overall command of our waystation operations in Hutt Space. You have much experience in navigating the political and underworld structures established here, as well as having unique insights into working in an undercover fashion. I have no doubts that any Jedi assigned here could learn a great many things from your leadership." Yes, there was something that bound Master Nemsee to these systems. Moho could sense no deception, and knew that the younger Jedi truly did wish to help the people that toiled here, but there is something else that made him reluctant to leave this place. The Grand Master could see no reason why he should be sent away though, at this moment in time. He had no reason not to trust the man, who had done nothing but be a stalwart member of their Order in his own unique way. "If there are any of our brethren that you would think would be suitable for an assignment here, please name them," Moho continued. The Order, despite its recent losses, was still quite vast in its membership. Even the Grand Master could not recite all the capabilities of all those that worked under their banner from the top of his mind, so if there were any among their number that Master Nemsee would favour it would be well to see them brought under his wing.

[Rugs]

Locke listened, thoughtfully, as Moho continued to speak to him. Yes, the big picture, he thought. We’ve all got a part to play in our own way, don’t we? In more ways than you know, Grandmaster. He wished, fervently, that he could tell Moho the whole truth of the work that went on out here--of his almost-family with the Exchange.

Yes, the Exchange was a criminal organization at heart. But the Galaxy was an imperfect place, and in building the relationships he had — with Lidah, with Vance and all the others — they’d done some real good on Nar Shaddaa. Lidah — the former Darth Novus, at that — had provided the Republic invaluable aid during the Archeri Crisis, though few would likely ever know. She’d brought Vance away from the Sith in leaving and, in doing so, had helped the runaway Padawan find a purpose.

Even Jazen, troubled as he might be, had found some refuge under her wing. For all Locke’s concerns about his ex-student’s decision-making at times, working under Lidah at least kept him away from Korriban or Dromund Kaas.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” he said, smiling and feeling a sense of peace, “I suppose you’re right at that.”

Locke’s eyes widened in genuine surprise as Moho continued on, offering to put him over the Order’s operations in Hutt Space. “I... That would be an honor,” he said, offering a rare bow of his head. “I suspect there will be much to do out here in the months to come. There’s a lot of rebuilding to do, and that’s to say nothing of the other worlds the Archeri rolled over on their way here.” A lifetime of work; Locke suspected the recovery efforts in Hutt Space, decentralized as it was, would go beyond his own lifetime barring some sort of miracle.

“As for fellow Jedi for assignment out here...” Locke pursed his lips in thought. “Moonfire Shae comes to mind. She’s a young Investigator. Talented. Got a bright future ahead of her. She’s already got some experience working out here, and I think she’d continue to do well here.” His brow furrowed as he thought further. It had been quite some time--since departing for Bothawui — since he visited with his Jedi brothers and sisters.

“For any others, I will need some time to review possible candidates. If you let me know your timetable, I’ll have a list of suggestions before you leave the system.”

[Blue]

Master Nemsee was the natural choice for such a position, and it baffled the old Jedi that the man himself seemed blind to the strengths that he held that made him so. But then, young Locke had always been taken aback when another praised him or pointed out his quality. I only hope that he will learn to appreciate himself a little more, in time. The name that Master Nemsee put forward was one that Moho actually did recall, though the Prell had not seen much of her during her time in the Temple; Knight Shae had been tutored mostly by Master Si Quan in her youngling years. "Knight Shae... the former Padawan of Master Sish Balkk, if I'm remembering correctly? He and Master Si Quan fought quite hard to ensure that she be accepted for further training," Moho said, his expression contemplative. He had been present in the Council Chamber that day when the two of them motioned against sending the young Moonfire to the Service Corps. "It would seem that their faith in her was well placed indeed. I will ensure that she is informed and given the opportunity to be assigned to you here." As the Grand Master spoke, a datapad removed itself from his hoverchair's storage compartment and floated around to the human Jedi. "On this datapad are our estimations for equipment, funding, and personnel to build and man the stations themselves. All the things that will make these waystations a reality. Please, peruse it when you can and be sure to add to or streamline it for your requirements here in Hutt Space. I will review it personally and ensure that you will get what you need." The pad beeped and flickered into life as it activated, a touch of the Force decrypting it for Locke's access. "As for myself, I will remain on Nar Shaddaa for a few more days to tend to the injured. I believe I will soon receive an... unusual invitation and will have to depart not long after that," Moho continued, his eyes growing somewhat clouded for the briefest of moments before returning to their normal clarity. "Should you still be looking things over and considering people to work with you in this system by that time, you may contact me via the usual methods." The Prell's eyes turned upward for a few seconds, staring up into the stars just starting to show in the bruised sky. "I do not usually like hurrying into things, but with the Hutts so devastated by the Chorus, others will soon rush in to fill the void left by them, if they have not already begun to do so. We could use that to set up our waystations in Hutt Space discretely, while others are busy consolidating their power. Would you think that that is a wise course of action, Master Nemsee?" Moho asked, turning his broad face back to the younger Jedi.

[Rugs]

Locke could not help but smile as the Grandmaster spoke of Moonfire’s mentors and their urging for her continued Jedi training. He could not speak ill of any Jedi to the Grandmaster, yet it wasn’t an empty compliment when he’d said that Moonfire had a bright future. She was, by any metric, a fine example for any young Knights to follow.

And maybe some masters, he thought, smiling wryly. Alas, they all walked the paths the Force set them on. For better or worse.

A datapad came floating over from the Grandmaster’s hoverchair. Locke plucked it out of the air and gave it a cursory glance, though he didn’t let his attention waver too much from Moho. Logistics — money, material, staffing — all the things needed for a successful operation. “Oh, I see what you’re doing, Grandmaster,” Locke said, his voice making the joke obvious, “you’re trying to get me in on some of the paperwork. So next time I cause some fuck-up, I can at least have a little appreciation for what it puts you through.”

He thumbed through the long, sprawling list of estimations. At a glance, they seemed right enough, but he was sure he’d add a tweak or two after serious review. “In all seriousness, I’ll give it a look as soon as I’m able,” he said. A few days. That’d cut it close; Locke was not so selfish as to return to the Republic forces after a battle and not assist in the aftermath. Still, he’d make an effort to see everything done.

He tucked the datapad into a coat pocket and leaned back, arms folded across his chest. He followed the Grandmaster’s gaze skyward, but even as the aged Jedi spoke on, Locke’s eyes lingered on the stars above.

“I do,” he said, after a long moment of quiet consideration. A heavy sigh broke his lips, and he returned his attention to Moho. “The Black Sun was already making some aggressive moves beforehand. The Archeri Crisis, I suspect, forced them to put those plans on hold. But with the Hutts crippled and the Exchange bruised...” he trailed of thoughtfully, tilting his head right, then left, consideringly. “Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years out here, it’s that things don’t stay quiet for long when there’s a vacuum. And I’ve never seen one this glaring.”

The Hutt Cartels, disunified though they sometimes were, were a stabilizing influence out in Hutt Space. With that influence gone, Locke could only imagine the chaos that lurked around the corner.

Here and further out, he thought, glancing again to the sky.

He’d been unconscious when the betrayal happened, as the Eye crew rushed him to emergency medical treatment to keep his injuries in the Spire assault from killing him. Even knowing it was true, it was impossible to believe that the Republic — his Republic — could stoop to such a level.

Such backstabbing, authorized or not, was something he’d expect from the Sith. Then again, so were the things he’d seen on Bothawui.

“Where do you think this ends, Grandmaster?” he asked suddenly. He looked to Moho, his grey eyes searching. For what, he wasn’t sure. “All of it, I mean. Feels like we’re on a hill, sliding toward a drop with no clue whether there’s a lake or a pit of spikes waiting for us after the fall.”

He paused for a moment. “Or maybe we’ve been on it all along, and someone just came along to grease the way down.”

[Blue]

For a moment, that twinkle reappeared in Moho's eyes as Master Nemsee voiced his suspicions. "A Jedi should be above such petty actions," the Grand Master jokingly reprimanded, adding after a short pause "They should be." The mood, just as last time, did not maintain its levity for long. After confirming the older Jedi's thoughts in regards to setting up the waystations in Hutt Space, the human Jedi asked for Moho's opinion on how things would end. The Grand Master's expression changed into something truly alien for his usually serene countenance, something distant and empty, as if he was suddenly wearing a death mask rather than flesh and blood, as he contemplated the question. It shifted back into a softer one swiftly, as whatever storm occurred behind those warm amber eyes receded. "I will share with you something, Master Nemsee, that I have told only a few people," Moho uttered quietly. There was a moment as the old Jedi considered a thought. "In fact, I do not believe I have shared this tale with any person still living. When I was a child, newly inducted into the Order as a youngling, I experienced such vivid dreams... and such terrible nightmares. The Masters of the Temple at the time were quick to realise that I was extremely sensitive to Force Visions, but not before I accidentally destroyed my room while in the throes of a particularly frightening Vision one night." As my connection to the Force deepened, through training and experience, these Visions came more often, although my control over them became far greater. I get them almost daily now, usually of the past, triggered by a particular memory. Indeed, I had one while speaking with you only moments ago, of your master, leaving some form of practical joke in your quarters at the Temple. With each Vision, it is as if I am living that moment for the first time; the scents, sounds... feelings, all as new and raw as they were all those years ago." Moho paused, looking faintly sorrowful. Not all of these memory-visions were as innocent or as warm as that one. "When I was elevated to the rank of Jedi Master, I entered a deep, meditative state for seven days. I saw... many things. Things that were, things that are, and things that had yet to come to pass. Chief among these Visions, I saw this: The Temple on Coruscant being built. Then destroyed. Then rebuilt, and destroyed again. I saw a planet I have never been to, but knew instinctively was Korriban, where a different Temple was being created. It too was destroyed, abandoned, and reconstructed. Side by side I watched as these two opposing places were remade and reduced to rubble over and over again, at such a speed that the suns in the skies flashed like a poorly wired light. My eye was drawn back, then, the expanse of our entire galaxy before me. I saw Republics and Empires rise and fall like tides in the ocean. Then finally, one by one, the lights of the galaxy began to flicker and die until there was nothing left but a fathomless black." The old Jedi's voice had taken a strange tone, his soft voice becoming deeper and almost haunted. His eyes were looking at Locke, but also through him, past him, into something much more vast than mere flesh and stone. Moho's body seemed to shudder almost imperceptibly and his focus returned, his gaze fixed on the younger man. He gave Locke a sad smile. "I am telling you this, Locke, so that you can understand one thing: there is no end. Both the top of that hill and the bottom are far beyond our abilities to see. The clear paths and the pitfalls are as numerous as they are repetitive. I told you before that suffering is cyclical; so too is life. Different faces with different names, all running towards the same ends, acting the same way, dreaming the same dreams, on and on throughout the centuries. Hatred, hope. Compassion, cruelty. Salvation... destruction. The seeds of all these things are planted in all of our hearts. I have seen them grow and wither in people endlessly through all my years. If my life has taught me a single lesson, it is that nothing that we do changes anything for long. People will still hate and hope, love and rage, regardless of if we help or hinder them or not." Moho's face retained his serene expression as he spoke, the words delivered in a quiet, even way. But his smile became stronger. "Nothing that we do will change anything. Which means everything that we do matters all the more. Every act of kindness and compassion, no matter how small, is a beacon of light in a dark, cold galaxy, as it is done not because we believe ourselves righteous or because it is expected of us. But simply because we can be kind. There is no end to despair or hatred, Locke. Just as there is no limit to our ability to hope... and to love." A sense of great peace emanated from the old Jedi. These were things he had long come to terms with, the ebbs and flows of the Force showing him things that even his long lifespan would not permit him. He pulled his strength from knowing that one could do good for no other reason than to simply do good, and that it mattered not if that act of kindness was forgotten, be it from tomorrow or a hundred thousand years from now. Nothing mattered. And so everything mattered. A small laugh came from Moho. "I apologise, Master Nemsee. The older I get, the more I tend to ramble on. But if you must take heart in anything, take it from this: The past cannot be changed. And the future... always in motion, it is. But today? Today, we can do good."

[Rugs]

As the Grandmaster spoke, Locke wondered — not for the first time — what it must be like to be a species who lived as long as Moho would. He couldn’t fathom it; to see beyond the strokes the years and decades left on the canvas as time marched ever onwards. Thought he Grandmaster spoke of cycles that would outlast even him, he wondered, just for a moment, what it must be like to read the threads of time and know that he might live long enough to see more than a fleeting glimpse of the picture that countless lives left behind.

The Grandmaster wiser than any Jedi Locke had the pleasure of knowing, tempered with the patience of countless years.

Beside him, Locke felt like a candle flickering in the wind.

“Today we must do good,” Locke said after Moho finished speaking. “Jedi must be mindful of the here and now,” he said, gaze going distant as he recalled his master’s words, from the days when he still wore his Padawan braid. “With respect to how the past brought us to where we stand, and mindful of how our choices may yet shape the future, in ways small and great.”

Locke looked to Moho, looked at everything around Moho and himself, from the ruined streets to the battered, tilting Spire off in the distance.

“You are right,” he said, finally. “These conflicts, these struggles, the joys and pains, and sorrows — they’ll all outlive us both, as long as sentient life remains in this Galaxy. Yet while we are here, I will choose to spend my life making these cycles, such as they are, as good for others as I can.”

He smiled at Moho. “To do good, as you say.”

The smile faded, though, as his mind again turned to the dark clouds hanging over the Galaxy. “But I suspect, Grandmaster, there will be much good that needs doing in the near future. More than there normally is, anyway.” His expression turned grim for a moment. “I do not know when, but I can feel it coming.”

[Blue]

Moho beamed at Locke as he spoke, reinforcing his will against the great, cold tide of galactic pain. Learn from the past, be mindful of the future, but always remember that we exist in the here and now; that is where we work. That is where can do good. "Well said indeed, Master Locke," Moho stated, his soft voice filled with pride and his warm smile creasing the surface of his broad face. Before he could continue, however, a wave of sensation washed over him, filling his mind. New pain. Broken bone. Burning skin. Glazed eyes. Blood. Muttering, incoherent. Too many, overwhelmed. They need help, too many, overwhelmed, they need help, too many, overwhelmed, they need help, too many, overwhelmed, they need help- "Master Moho!" A voice called out across the destroyed grounds, a Twi'lek woman in the garb of a medical professional waving from outside the nearest tent. "We need help, we just got a massive influx of new injured and we're overwhelmed just trying to-" "I am on my way," Moho responded, turning his hoverchair around to face her. The gaunt-faced woman nodded curtly and retreated back into the tent, while the Grand Master offered Locke a small smile. "It would seem that this is all the time we are permitted to speak for today, Master Nemsee." The old Jedi paused for a moment before taking his leave. "The coming trials will doubtless be difficult... but rest assured, Locke, that I will do everything in my power to insure that the Order is more prepared and ready to act as well as we are able to when those trials come. One of those preparations is why I asked you to meet with me today. Another of them will be to ensure that the Council is not deadlocked by indecision, as we were when the last war arrived on our doorstep. There will be many other steps to take in the coming weeks." With a sigh, Moho began to pilot his hoverchair towards the medical tents, intending to ply his healing craft once again despite his weariness. "Should you require me for anything else while I am here, Master Nemsee, do not hesitate to find me. I will be right here. Doing what good these old pincers can."