Krif, what a mess, Jon thought as the backdoor of the villa clicked open; Artemis had had surprisingly little trouble slicing into the security system. Jon had expected more, but then, the people who lived here were defense enough.
No, the mess was the current situation. He hadn’t been back from Quermia for a week before some new catastrophe had landed in his lap, and this one was a doozy.
Shavit, Celevon, what the hell have you gotten us into this time?
Well, a lot of people wanted to ask that, but Celevon Werd’a wasn’t responding to calls to return to the Temple, or to SENnet HQ. He wasn’t responding to calls period and that wasn’t like him.
No word had come down from the Summit or the Empress on what the official plan was. Yet. Someone needed to find answers before that happened, and Hous Hoth wanted that someone to be a Knight of Allusis. Dune wanted that someone to be the Knights’ personal SENnet operative.
Jon just wanted to make sure another war didn’t break out that Odan-Urr wasn’t ready for.
He crept through the darkened halls of the main manor, Artemis trailing silently behind him. The last thing he wanted was to get caught sneaking into this place.
Not that he expected Celevon to be here. If he was in hiding, he wasn’t stupid enough to do it at his own house, and if he wasn’t then there was something else keeping him from answering calls.
A door opened to his left, and Jon repressed the reflex to reach for his knives. Instead, he decided now was as good a time as any to make a dramatic entrance, and scrambled for the nearest seat.
When the lights flicked on, the new arrival saw him sitting comfortably in an armchair.
“So,” Jon said casually. “Wanna tell me where Celevon Werd’a is?”
Turel put the datapad down he had been comfortably perusing in the chair, “Well, clearly not here.”
The Jedi Master knew he probably should have coordinated with his fellow Knight and SenNet operative, but he had a personal interest in this matter. Celevon had been many things to Turel, brother-in-arms, friend, even lover for a brief period, but now Turel considered him family. He helplessly watched his sister spiral into rage due to grief and now feared Celevon was also making rash decisions.
Seeing his joke didn’t land, Turel stood up, “well since you’re here want to compare notes?”
“I, for one, would love to hear notes. Specifically, the cliff notes on why either of you thought breaking in was a good idea,” Aryn “Jade” Erinos-Magnuri commented as she walked in wearing her full armor, sans helmet. “After all, we’re perfectly capable of answering and opening the door like civilized people. Turel.” Celevon’s long-time companion, even before she became his sister-in-law, nodded to the Jedi Master in greeting. Her eyes flitted to Jon Silvon. “Though I cannot recall your name, we worked together just weeks ago on Quermia. The fact that we recognized you is the only reason you weren’t shot on sight for breaking and entering.”
The ‘we’ was explained a moment later, as Ruana Suoh-Werd'la, Celevon’s daughter-in-law, stepped into the room from another entrance toting her Bo-Rifle. She, on the other hand, was wearing her full inherited ARC Trooper armor.
“In the spirit of full cooperation, I’ll inform you that Celevon hasn’t been here in over a week,” Ruana spoke up softly via the modulator in her helmet. “My wife Artemis and her twin brother Marius have been attempting to locate him since the news broke of his suspected involvement in the assassination of the Prime Minister.”
“Terribly sorry,” Jon said with a wave of his hand as he walked over to the plushest looking seat and plomped himself down. “Thought I saw a suspicious character attempting to enter and didn’t want to let him know I’d spotted him. Turned out to just be a figment of my imagination. Pending war does tend to play havoc on one’s mental state, you know.”
His astromech droid, also known as Artemis, rolled up next to him and beeped something sarcastic about having ‘told you so.’ Jon opted not to dignify it with a response.
“But the good news is that we have now firmly established the first place Celevon isn’t and finding out where someone is not is the first step to finding out where they are. A magnificent first step in this investigation, and if I may be so bold as to propose what I think will be a spectacular second step, it would be this: telling me when the last time each of you saw the accused was, and what he was doing.”
“That’s easy enough. I dropped him off at the palace where he was visiting the Empress, directly after our return from Quermia. That was the last time we saw him,” Jade replied, gesturing between herself and the Pantoran.
Ruana herself pulled off her helmet and placed it under her arm, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “The last time we heard from him was the next day, claiming he had a mission and that he’d be traveling incognito for it. The moment we heard about the assassination and that he was suspected, we tried raising him via his comm frequency and that of HK-72 to no success.”
“This tells one of two things,” Jade continued, finishing up the thought. “Either he’s lying low… or the mission isn’t over. If it’s the former, good luck finding him; he’s quite skilled at survival and can live on his own for weeks without requiring supplies. All we know thus far is that he isn’t on this planet. Artemis and Marius are on Kaerls and Kiast, respectively, checking out the places he could possibly be.”
“Of course, it’s equally likely that he’s forgotten to turn his comlinks — both the one on his wrist, as well as the encrypted one inside of HK — back on,” Ruana added with a wry smile.
“Celevon was never the forgetful type, especially when it comes to mission details,” Turel added nonchalantly as he paced around the room stroking his beard. He turned to Jon, “Oh and I haven’t seen Celevon in months, not since–” his voice trailed off with a hint of heaviness “–Avaleen and Connor.”
The Jedi master fell silent for a moment as he reflexively tried to center himself. Just saying their names out loud brough up a tempest of grief and guilt. Though he was removed from the unfathomable tradegy of a parent losing a child, he still felt the loss to his broken yet passionate extended family. He had been so focused on trying to bring Morgan back from the brink he barely reached out to Celevon. Some friend he was. Whatever was going on with Celevon, perhaps it could have been prevented.
Turel snapped out of his momentary disassociation to rejoin the investigative brainstorming that continued around him.
“Avaleen and Connor?” Jon asked with a raised eyebrow. “Apologies, I’m not the most caught up on your family’s drama.”
Jon knew only a little about Celevon and Turel’s family history – for all his pride on his information gathering, he wasn’t a snoop when it came to his clanmate’s personal lives – but this sounded like the kind of thing that could make a man snap. Those who wielded the Force were… vulnerable, for lack of a better word, than most sentients were to loss.
The history of the Galaxy was written in the blood spilled by those driven to the Dark Side over far, far less than the loss of a child, after all. And Celevon, from what Jon knew of him, didn’t cleave particularly close to the Light as it was.
“Celevon’s son and adopted daughter with Morgan, my sister. They were, um-” the words choked up in his throat “-killed in an explosion.”
Jon’s second eyebrow shot up to join the other as he looked to Ruana and Jade, gauging their reactions.
“So… Celevon’s children are killed… and a few months later he apparently goes completely AWOL before running off to murder a head of state and start a war.”
Jon took of his hat, sighed deeply, and put it back on.
“Turel. My friend. I’m no Jedi. I’ve never levitated so much as a feather in my life. But from my layman’s perspective, this sounds like a man who’s fallen.”
“If he had targeted the perpetrators of that attack Id tend to agree with you but this assassination was no wonton act of vengeance. Something else is going on here.” Turel sounded like he was half trying to convince himself. “Let’s stick to what facts we can piece together for now.”
“Turel is absolutely correct. If it had been an act of vengeance, the kill would’ve been impulsive, up close and personal. I’ve known Celevon for nearly fifteen years, even before I met his sister who would later become my wife. I can assure you, without a shadow of a doubt, if he knew who killed Avaleen and Connor, those who carried it out would be dead. And he wouldn’t have fallen to do so,” Jade explained this softly, occasionally meeting the eyes of both Knights of Allusis. “He would not have allowed himself to fall, because he still has family — children included — who need him.”
Whilst the Mandalorian was speaking, Ruana grabbed a pair of datapads, copying the information from one to the other. Once that was done, the Pantoran also sent it to Turel’s datapad.
“This is all the information we’ve been able to gather, thus far. The information packet SeNet put together for the Empress on the Prime Minister in question, which was forwarded to my father-in-law is the first file,” Ruana spoke up as she handed Jon the second datapad. “The rest are the Prime Minister’s autopsy report, ballistics and other data from the crime scenes—”
“My astromech, Crash, is rather capable of hacking systems,” the Mandalorian smirked before the two males could ask how they had gotten their hands on that information.
“Anyway,” Ruana glared at the redhead for a moment before she continued. “We’re almost certain that the Empress ordered the hit, since she’s the one who forwarded the intel packet to Celevon. He has next to no skill with computerized or mechanical systems.”
“Aye, bear in mind that his attempt to jump-start my old ship, which resulted in all of the wiring being fried?” Jade saw that she had the attention of the others, her lips thinned in remembered annoyance. “He found an open port and shot it through with Lightning.”
The Weapons Specialist forcefully cleared her throat to avoid chuckling. “Okay, so he’s hopeless with most tech.”
Jon made a noncommital noise, but took the proffered datapad all the same, rapidly skimming the information present.
“And the mission he said he was going on? Did he happen to let slip any little details, like how long he thought he would be gone for or where he was going?”
Jade shook her head, lightly rubbing her temples. “I’m the one that spoke with him. He used the word ‘contract’ to explain what type of mission it was. Since he’s usually going after the scum of the galaxy when Celevon accepts a contract, we don’t ask questions.”
The Mandalorian could see that Jon was about to ask a follow-up and held up a hand. “A majority of them in recent years have been for SeNet, and none of us aside from Cel are cleared to know the details of those missions.”
“How did he seem? Anxious, upset, distracted?”
The Pantoran snorted. “If you have to ask that, you clearly don’t know him. If he doesn’t have a job to do, he’s easily distracted. The only time any of us have seen him anxious is when he’s in a space-faring vessel… and, if he’s upset, there’s generally a trail of things burning to know where he was.”
“Celevon was matter of fact in the call. Focused. It’s how he is when he gets and accepts a contract, which was trained into him,” Jade sighed. “Once he accepts, the target is already dead. It’s only a matter of means and the timeframe in which the kill occurs.”
“I’m not doubting his proficiency darlings, only his motives.”
Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Kriff, I’m not drunk enough for this, not nearly so. Please tell me you have something strong around here? Rum would be good.”
“Rum we do have,” Ruana spoke up, gesturing to an odd globe stand in the corner. “The top opens. Glasses are in the bottom shelf. The point Jade is making, poorly, is that this was ordered. Why else would the Empress give him a detailed intel packet, including the Prime Minister’s movement habits?”
“I’m still hoping he actually thought it through and wasn’t thinking with his ‘other brain’,” Jade muttered, then noticed the look the other Mercenary was giving her. “The fact that Celevon and Kaltani — the Empress — are sleeping together is a poorly kept secret.”
Jon sat up and blinked wearily. What Jade was suggesting was… the thought had the wheels in his head suddenly spinning, and not in ways he liked. Of course he had known about Celevon and the Empress; such a scandal was prime fodder for the rumor mills, and Force-knew he kept his ears on those enough. But what Jad was insinuating…
“Jade… you’re suggesting the Empress wanted this assassination?”
That was… not precisely treason, but threading the line in a way that made Jon nervous. His grandfather had one made a living silencing those kinds of words on behalf of a much, much larger Empire than the Vatali. Moreover, he liked Kaltani. She was as close to an ideal monarch as one could get; strong but fair, compassionate but with steel where it counted, wise but decisive. If she was ordering shadow-hits and letting Odan-Urr take the fall… no. He wouldn’t go there. Not yet.
Not yet.
“Removing a key thorn in her side like the Prime Minister? Oh she wanted it alright.” Turel looked up from reviewing the fresh data Ruana had provided, “Now did she order the assassination is the real question and the evidence as Ruana suggested seems to indicate that directly or indirectly she did.” The Jedi Master held up the data pad, “Something seems off about this SeNet intel packet, it’s too neat. Real intelligence reports are messy with conflicting information and skepticism. This was hand curated to paint a nasty picture of the prime minister. Assuming all of it is legit and not fabricated.”
Turel reached across the flows of the Force to touch Jon’s mind for a silent message, “We may have to accept that our beloved Empress is using us as pawns.”
“I think,” Jon said slowly, “We should do what you said and stick to what we know. You’re right about one thing, however: whatever answers there are to be found, it seems like they’ll be in the Imperial Palace… we’ve no idea how to track down Celevon, so the best course of action might be retracing his steps, and that means paying a visit to Kiast.”
“That would likely be for the best. And, if possible, seek out one of your sources with SeNet to check out the authenticity—”
The Mandalorian visibly twitched, trailing off as an incessant beeping came from her vambrace. Jade stared at it, giving a brief nod toward both Knights of Allusis as she stood. “It seems we’re about to get some answers.” With that said, the human clicked the activation stud. “Raven, why have you been out of contact?”
As a familiar voice came over the comms, the Pantoran moved closer to the two males as she sent an alert to her wife and brother-in-law to let them know that they had received communications from the male they had all been searching for and to return home.
“My sincere apologies, sister. We had a bit of a problem with pirates and HK’s comlink was damaged—”
A more modulated voice interrupted, though it was faint, just outside of the effective range of the device’s microphone. “Clarification: The cowardly meatbags employed an EMP device in the form of a mine when the Master and I re-entered the system, four standard days ago. They thought we would be easy pickings, then employed the device to allow their escape when we fired back and began the chase.”
Celevon sighed loudly over the comms. “Long story short, it took HK that long to repair the vessel enough to make it back, since I’m…”
“Suggested descriptor: Inept.”
“Yes, thank you, HK. Inept when it comes to mechanics. I was mostly handing him tools, as a majority of the systems were fried and—”
“Where are you?” Jade cut him off before her brother-in-law and the Gladiator droid could argue semantics further.
“Close enough to sense that we have visitors… Ah, hello Turel. I’ll be there in ten.”
Ruana could see Jon tense as the comms were deactivated abruptly. “You can relax. That’s how he normally is. Cel will only attack you if you do so first. HK will engage if you appear threatening.”
The Mandalorian rubbed her temples.
Jon watched Turel pace back and forth, resisting the urge to join him. Instead, he calmly sipped from the glass of Rum that had been provided to him and tried to order his thoughts. The most wanted man in the Kiast system was about to walk through that door, he was in a room surrounded by that man’s family, and it was his job to determine if he was a rogue agent, a traitor… or subject of some conspiracy.
He realized he was shaking his leg and very deliberately put a stop to it.
Jon Silvon did not get nervous. He was the unflappable, devil-may-care rogue that no one saw as a threat. He did not let his feelings show.
Shane Argus, on the other hand, was a different matter, but he hadn’t been allowed to show his face in several decades now.
No, instead Jon fell back on an old Jedi trick Syreena had taught him; make of your mind an army, and order every thought like a soldier in formation.
One: Celevon had killed the leader of the Burmessian Republic. Two: SeNET had not ordered him to do so, but somebody went to the trouble of making it look like they did, and did a sloppy enough job for Turel to realize it after only a glance. Three: The last time anyone had seen Celevon was after he visited the Empress, whom he is not-so-secretly in love with.
All these data points correlated back to a simple, straightforward question, and the way Jon posed it could determine if he walked out of here alive.
Why did you do it?
And then, Jon turned as heard the door open.
The Shaevalian-Umbaran walked into his home wearily, as the previous weeks had taken their toll. The moment they had entered the property, HK-72 had wandered off to the combined Hangar Bay/Maintenance Garage. He had fielded a comm call from his eldest twin children, Marius and Artemis, on the walk.
They had given Celevon more information than his long-time companion and sister-in-law had. Though, at the same time, both were seemingly unaware of their visitors at the estate. It seemed that, not long after the Seeker had carried out the assassination and escaped the planet, footage of him had been discovered and his identity deduced, likely aided by the Vauzem-in-exile that the Burmessian Republic had given political asylum; as a result, calls for his arrest and extradition had been issued to the Vatali Empire.
Truthfully, a small part of the native Corellian was mildly amused at the hypocrisy: the Burmessians were demanding his extradition for a single, if high-profile murder yet refusing to hand over hundreds of terrorists guilty of treason to the Empire.
The rest of him was suspicious, wondering if he had been betrayed. And, if so, by whom? The intel packet he had received from Kaltani had been similar to a majority of those he had previously been given by SeNet, if bearing less redacted lines. All the unnecessary chatter and reported details — such as favorite foods, and supposition — had been removed. However, on reflection, perhaps it had been a little too neat.
As much as he didn’t want to believe it of the Empress, due to how close they had become over the years and that trust going both ways, it was worth considering. Had Kaltani used him as a political pawn to take out a troublesome politician? It was plausible, especially with how ruthless she had become.
Yet, at the same time, he had trained her guard in how to more efficiently handle Force Users. The Shaevalian-Umbaran knew any and all possible ways through their security protocols.
The Empress knew how he had reacted to betrayals in the past, especially considering the duel that had taken place on this very island with a man he had once called brother. All the while, the volcano that had created it erupted and lava had flowed, destroying both his and the Suoh estates in the process.
Or had Kaltani been given false information by someone within the Vatali Conclave, in order to embroil them in another war?
Either way, Celevon disliked the idea that he had been used. And was now regretting that he had followed protocol and reported his return to SeNet, as he had with his departure.
Whilst the Shaevalian-Umbaran would have normally cleaned and stored his gear upon his return home, two Knights of Allusis arriving at his home meant that they were searching for answers. It would not do to keep them waiting.
As he walked toward the study, Celevon couldn’t help but think of what he knew of both men. Turel was an open book to him, as the two had been allies and friends — even lovers, briefly — for many years. The man was practically family. Though, at the same time, the former High Councilor took his duties seriously.
Jon Silvon was someone that the Seeker was less familiar with, only having known of the man in passing before they fought side by side in the fields of Quermia.
His hands briefly twitched in a practiced motion, releasing and retracting the wrist-blades on both gauntlets.
Celevon removed the rifle he had used in the killing of the Prime Minister from over his shoulder, placing it down against the doorframe of the study before he walked in. His organic eye flitted to where Turel was pacing, to Jade and Ruana quietly speaking in a corner.
Then, he looked over and spotted Jon seated in one of his chairs, cradling a glass of his rum. Whilst he appeared calm, the human’s mind screamed anxiety to the Seeker’s senses, which Celevon pulled back when he realized what he was doing.
It was an annoyance when others met his eyes.
The Shaevalian-Umbaran deliberately relaxed his stance and kept his hand clear of the revolver strapped to his right thigh as the others took notice of his appearance.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to order HK to get repairs and not follow me,” Celevon murmured in his usual urbane tone. “Based on what Artemis and Marius have told me, I’m assuming the two of you are here under orders to investigate me?”
Turel’s eyes narrowed on his long time friend, “We’re supposed to take you in,” he saw no reason to mince words. The Jedi Master set the datapad he had been reviewing done on a table after a few seconds of pregnant pause. “But this whole thing stinks. Too much isn’t adding up. My gut says someone or some shady group of someones is trying to play us.” He looked toward Jon and gave a “go ahead” gesture for his fellow knight to ask the questions Turel didn’t need telepathy to know Jon was dying to ask.
<@230809550297497600>
Jon sighed deeply before propping his head one hand, slumping against the arm of the chair he was in. He gestured to Celevon, and said, very simply: “Why in the name of all the stars did you kill that guy Celevon? And understand that depending on your answer, Turel and I may have to place you under arrest, which won’t be pleasant for anyone involved, so please tell me it wasn’t because you suddenly decided to go Dark on us all.”
<@248237225202941964>
The Seeker glanced from Turel during his explanation to Jon when the other male voiced the question. By the end of that statement, Celevon couldn’t help but stare, then visibly took a deep breath.
“Not this osik again…” the Shaevalian-Umbaran muttered, briefly squeezing the bridge of his nose before he opened his eyes again. “No, I did not ‘go dark’ anymore than I ‘went light’. I remain purposely balanced between the two extremes. As to why I killed him? There are several reasons. Firstly, Kal— the Empress,” he quickly corrected himself, to avoid confusion more than anything. “Told me she wanted him dead. After looking through the file she shared, which I do agree looks off in retrospect, I accepted the contract. The man was unwilling to budge from harboring terrorists, who framed my daughter for murder and killed a number of innocent civilians, as well as Younglings and Padawans who had simply been on Quermia for a learning exercise.”
The Corellian native visibly took another breath to maintain his calm, as his voice had begun to rise. It didn’t help that he was remembering having to retrieve the body of a child, burnt beyond recognition, on his way back through the warzone.
Celevon exhaled slowly, pushing the memories back by sheer force of will alone. “Even if that intel packet had been completely fabricated, I witnessed at least three crimes he committed before I took the shot. The Prime Minister, in their news, was under investigation for accepting bribes to release certain criminals from prison. One of whom had been convicted for several counts of murder and being part of the slave trade, to name the highlights. I mention that particular criminal because I saw him enter the Prime Minister’s office, sit down and hand over a case full of credit chips. Not only did the bastard shake the slaver’s hand, they hugged before the scum departed. That was twenty mintues before I took the shot.”
Before anyone else could speak, Jade voiced a question of her own. “I know you and your hatred of slavers may as well be legendary. Why didn’t you take the shot before that, taking out both the slaver and the Prime Minister?”
“Originally, I didn’t plan to use the rifle. I was going to possess him, then make him commit suicide,” Celevon admitted, glancing over at his sister-in-law. “For the record, the fact that he was under investigation is in the intel packet, near the end of the report.”
“Still, you could’ve shot both of them. Why didn’t you?” Ruana asked curiously, speaking up for the first time in a while.
The Shaevalian-Umbaran shrugged lightly. “I couldn’t take a shot without the risk of hitting the secretary. After the slaver scum left, I was going to go with the original plan… then I decided that I didn’t want to know what was in his mind. I had been up there six hour before I took the shot. HK can verify my findings, since he was recording through his own scope, acting as a spotter from an adjacent building.”
Turel opened his mouth to question the last when Ruana cut him off. “HK records everything. There’s a reason he isn’t allowed to enter private areas of the house.”
The Mandalorian woman grumbled and it was very clear just whom had been filmed without her consent.
While the Pantoran interrupted, the Seeker had taken the moment to fill himself a glass of whiskey and levitated it over to himself. He took a small sip before swirling the liquid in the glass.
“Any other questions?”
Jon looked at Celevon, then turned slowly to each other person in the room. Then he looked down at the glass in his hand, before tilting his head back and downing it in one swallow.
He let it burn pleasantly down his throat, a feeling that took the edge off the million spinning thoughts whirling away inside his skull. The implications spawned from Celevon’s simple explanation, and the plans upon plans he would need to concoct to deal with them pressed against the inside of his mind like razor wire.
He forced them down, and stood, before strolling over to Celevon.
“Right then,” he said. “So, you, Turel, and I are all going straight to Kaal City. From there we’re going to contact the Summit, and you are going to tell them everything you just told us, in detail. And since it’s going to come up, I may as well be asking this now, but do you have any actual proof of what you’ve said? Because if the Empress disavows any of this and it comes down to your word against hers… well, I believe you, but something tells me most of the Vatali aren’t going to take you over her.”
Celevon slowly quirked an eyebrow, a hint of his usual smirk appearing.
“What part of ‘HK records everything’ didn’t you take in? He follows me everywhere. When she told me to kill him, we were in Kaltani’s sitting room; HK is only barred from private rooms, such as bedrooms and bathrooms.”
Jon glanced over to the droid in question, and sighed.
“Celevon, before we go, I have to ask… you had to know this was gonna spark another war.”
The Shaevalian-Umbaran looked from Turel, to Ruana and Jade — who released simultaneous sighs — before he glanced back at Jon. That smirk grew.
“I didn’t hear a question there.”
Jon stamped down on his irritation; is this what it felt like for other people talking to him? Stars above.
“And you’re fine with that?”
“It would take what’s essentially an act of war to eliminate the remnants of the Vauzem Dominion where they’re in hiding. Perhaps their next Prime Minister will be less swayed by the wealth they brought with them.”
The room temperature seemed to have dropped as Celevon’s lone organic eye narrowed, all traces of levity gone from his features.
“For aiding and abetting various criminals slavers who prey upon the innocent, let alone protecting terrorists for profit? He’s lucky I couldn’t find a way to kill him slower.”
Jon slapped a hand to his face before turning to Turel.
“By all the stars he is really is as infuriating as everyone says. What a kriffing mess. Alright, no objections to our little jaunt to Kaal for a chat with Masahiro and the rest of the Council I take it?”
“I do object, but that’s mostly because they aren’t exactly fond of me either,” Celevon pointed out, seemingly lightly.
It was pointless, as his comment was ignored. Both his sister-in-law and daughter-in-law seemed amused, as they could recognize the pout that he wanted to show.
Turel held up a hand toward his fellow Knight, “Let’s not be hasty. I, for one, would like to examine and preserve the HK’s memory as that’s a crucial piece of evidence we do not want to lose.”
The Jedi’s mind raced with questions, most of them for the Empress. What did she know? What was her ultimate goal? She had to know it wouldn’t take much of a nudge to get Celevon to act on his already strong motive to eliminate the prime minister. Turel knew first hand that her benevolent majesty had capable assassins of her own if it were really just as simple as her wanting a thorn in her side eliminated. No, she wanted someone affiliated with Odan-Urr to do the deed, but why? To sully the clan’s hands so the conclave peacekeepers couldn’t try to stop a war? Who benefitted from a war?
Turel knew he couldn’t turn his friend in just yet. He needed to buy time, even if that meant being less than forthcoming with the council. He was a Jedi yes, but he was of the Sentinel order. And sentinels understood the value of a strategic deception. Cel could stay “at large” for a little while longer while Turel and Jon figured out what was going on and who they could trust.
“I don’t think we need to report back to the council just yet either.”
Jon’s lips, in spite of himself, quirked upwards at the corner. He recognized the look in Turel’s eyes as he peered at the droid, and for the first time since entering the estate he began to feel like he might not be the only sane person left in the System.
“You mean you want to defy standing orders from the Knight Commander and our Quaestor, and the High Councilor, let the entire system sit turmoil a little longer, knowing we’ll both have to lie on our official reports about exactly when we found this madman?” he asked, jeering a thumb at Celevon as he said those last words. “All on some hunch of yours?”
He let the other occupants of the room stare at him for a moment longer before saying: “Sounds like fun. R3, go fetch me another bottle of that rum… no, make it three, it’s gonna be a long night.”
The Shaevalian-Umbaran ignored the slight directed his way, as Jon had not been the first to claim him a madman. Truthfully, his own family thought he was nuts at times.
“HK’s memory core is protected. My daughter will be here soon. Artemis was the one who installed it and is the only person who HK will accept a shutdown order from.”
“Factual Statement: This is true. Mistress Artemis is the one who rebuilt me and installed these safeguards,” the droid himself provided some unnecessary clarification.
The Mandalorian female that often served as the family’s mechanic rolled her eyes at this. Still, Jade couldn’t help but think of a benefit to this: He’ll be shut down for a while. And we’ll be able to hopefully be able to update his programmed behaviors.