Chapter 3

Jusik followed the pricess through the halls of the castle. As he followed Princess Celestia, he saw many more equines. Most of them stopped and stared at him as he walked by, either curious, scared, or a combination of both. They came in many different colors ad no two were alike; one was a bright yellow with a green mane and wings, another was blue with golden hair and had a hon above its forehead. Jusik also noticed that almost all of them had a stylized tattoo on their flanks. One had one of a quill and a bottle of ink, and yet another had several bubbles. Princess Celestia had one of a stylized sun. Jusik made a mental note to ask about that later.

The princess turned and entered a room that had large wooden door with an engraving of a large sun on the front. The room itself wasn't very large, only four metres across and eight long. The ceiling itself was only about a metre above Jusik's head. To his left was a window that displayed a spectacular view of the rest of the castle and a city beyond it's outer walls. To the right was another door that led to what looked like a bedroom and a balcony. Sitting against the back of the room was a wooden book case and a fireplace. The walls were covered with wood paneling, and sitting in the center of the room were several pillows. Jusik was certainly surprised by this, but he didn't let it show on his face. He had been expecting a room filled with finery, expensive items, and other fine trappings that were usually assosiated with royaly.

"Is there anything you need to drink or eat Mister...?" Celestia asked.

"Jusik... you can me Jusik m'lady." Jusik replied. The princess smiled and cocked an eyebrow at the last part.

"I may be a mercenary, but I was raised to be a polite one."

"I see." Celestia said as she sat down across from him. Jusik chose to remain standing. "Well, would you like some refreshments Mister Jusik?"

"No thank you."

"Well than. As I said earlier, I have a job for you."

"I'm listening."

"About a week ago, there was an incident where something very like you, except without armor and was much bigger, killed thirty-nine of mine, and my sister's, guard. He wore all black and he had a weapon similar to that." Celestia said as she pointed to Jusik's lightsaber. If he wasn't interested before, Jusik certainly was now.

"What color was it?" Jusik asked as he sat down.

"Red... blood red."

"Probably a Sith wannabe."

"What is a Sith?"

"A Sith is a follower of the Dark Side of the Force and ancient enemies of the Jedi. They are very dangerous and should caution should be approached with extreme caution." Jusik said, quoting his former master, Arligan Zey. "But I'd rather not get in philosophy right now. There is one issue though..."

"And that is?" Celestia asked. The princess obviously hadn't had much experience with mercenaries and bounty hunters.

"The matter of price princess."

"How much do you require Mister Jusik."

"Ten million of the local currency."

"Ten million!" the princess said, almost yelling.

"Hey... Mandalorians don't come cheap; especially so if you want them to go after a Force user."

The princess sighed and stared intently at the ground. Jusik knew that if he was still a Jedi, he would actually care about this threat, but he had left that part of his life behind, and took up the mantle of Mandalorian. But it was still hard to shake habits that had been ingrained in him since he was an infant. That didn't mean he would do it for free though.

"... four million." Celestia whispered.

"... I am feeling charitable today..." Jusik told Celestia, "so I'll agree to this. But I will need a guide."

"And that shall be provided." Princess Celestia said as she stood up.

"One last thing though..." Jusik said.

"Yes?"

"Dead or Alive?"

Coruscant/ Senate District

I walked down the boardwalk, ignoring everyone who stared at me. And there were plenty of stares. Almost no one ever saw a clone as close as they saw me right now. Especially without a helmet. And even less saw Republic Commandos Sarge had ordered us to take off our helmets as soon we left the barracks. It wasn't the strangest order he's given to Beta Squad, but it certainly was in the top ten list. Probably something that Sergeant Skirata had told him before they left.

"They're human!" I heard one Twi'ilek exclaim. Do you know just how human we are?

"They're so young!" a woman said. But did she know just how young we were?

Me and the rest of my squad heard things like this all the way to the Jedi Temple. No one wanted to get in our way. They all moved aside as if we were tanks about to roll right over them. All things considered, we were tanks. The Katarn armor was bulky, nearly four times as thick as the standard trooper armor, and could survive the hard vacuum of space, knives, grenades, ballistic rounds, and even a turbolaser shot; even though no one wanted to voluntarily test the theory of the last one.

Walking up the steps that lead to the entrance of the Jedi Temple, I was amazed at its sheer scale. It was massive. I had read that it had been built over an entire mountain. It wasn't an exaggeration. But I didn't get much time to look at the area around me, for almost as soon as we had mounted the last step, a Jedi Padawan, a Rodian, walked up to us.

"Beta Squad?" the padawan asked.

"Yes ma'am." replied Niner, our squads sergeant.

"RC-1028?"

"Here Commander." I said. I wasn't surprised in the least, that someone would want to debrief me personally... and alone.

"Would you come with me please?" the Padawan asked as she turned and walked into the temple. I didn't disobey.

"What's your name?" the padawan asked me. This was uncomfortable for me. Asking a clone's name was a personal question... a very personal question.

"RC-1-"

"Not your number... your name."

"... Des... ma'am."

"It's nice to meet you Des." she told me. I remained silent. We walked the rest of the way in silence. When we reached a specific door, she turned and waved me in. On the other side of door, was a small garden, with an Ithorian standing in the center, watering the plants.

"RC-1028?" the Jedi asked as he offered me his hand.

"In the flesh sir." I said as we shook.

"I'm Master Fogarth. I've heard a lot about you private. Word spreads quickly. Especially on Corellia. It's a very leaky place you know. You should remember that."

I didn't reply.

"No trouble en route?"

"None sir. Why? Should there be?"

"Nothing untoward at La Guardia?"

"Nothing sir. There was no problem at all."

"Well that's good. It's a relief actually. I'm just glad that we were able to pull the right strings. Get CorSec to back off enough to back off long enough to get you and the team out."

"We... sir?"

"Well, Naval Intelligence did the actual string pulling, obviously."

"Sir, are you confusing me with someone else? No one got us out of anything. We'd finished what we were doing over there. And the police had no reason to be sniffing around for us."

"Of course," Master Fogarth said, pulling a holozine from the bottom of the pile on his desk, and placing it in front of me. "Whatever works for you. I completely understand."

The holozine was a copy of yesterday's. On the front cover was a picture of a house covered with crime-scene tape. The headline read: Butchered in the Bronx: WOMAN, MEN MASSACRED IN UNEXPLAINED, SAVAGE ATTACK. I didn't need to read the report. I knew they wouldn't get the details right. And what happened in that house didn't strike me as unduly savage, given the circumstances.

"Interesting story," I said, thinking of the last time I saw Lesley. "Someone must have had a pretty good reason to do all that."

"A very good reason. I hear that the first officer to respond lost his breakfast. Which is something, for a cop used to working the ganglands of Corellia.

"Really? I wouldn't know. I've never been there."

Well, I've been there once actually, to one house. To take care of one piece of business.

"Of course you haven't. But Corellian Security would like to think otherwise."

"They've been wrong before."

"Not this time. I understand they're very confident."

"How so? I hear there were no survivors. No witnesses. No usable forensics."

I knew there were none. I'd gone out of my way to make sure.

"But they do have the victim's Identity," Fogarth said. "And that tells them a lot."

"Which victim?" Weren't there several?"

I remembered each ones face. Their clothes... their smell... what they'd been doing as I tracked them through the house. How they looked as I lowered them, lifeless, to the ground as I moved on to the next one in line.

"There were eight or nine they think." he replied.

"I'd say more like seven... from what I heard."

Only four of them had been any good though. The others should have found another line of work.

"It's the woman they're focusing on."

And why not? That's exactly what we did. For an entirely different reason.

"How chivalrous." I said.

"No. Just practical. A lot of things stand out about her."

"I'm sure they do."

"I'm being serious private. The way she was singled out, for example. She was the last to go you know."

I do know. We planned it that way. We didn't want any interruptions.

"Are they sure?" I asked.

"They're certain."

"Then maybe she was hiding when, whatever it was, kicked off. Maybe the others were trying to protect her."

They didn't try very hard. But it wouldn't have mattered if they had. Nothing could have saved her that night.

"That's what CorSec thinks. That the men were her body guards."

"They didn't do such a good job then. By the sound of it they hardly put up a fight. She should have hired more carefully."

"The police don't think it was the guards' fault. They're not blaming them at all."

"Why not?"

"They were all ex-military. Well trained and heavily armed. No trace of alcohol or drugs. None of them had been sleeping on the job. They were just overwhelmed."

"Implying a number of attackers?" I asked.

We'd had her in our sights once before, and then stood aside to let the police have their shot. We weren't going to make that mistake again. And she knew it.

"No," the Jedi said. "There were four or six. But only one of them did the actual killing. A professional. Someone who does this kind of thing for a living."

"They don't know that. They're just fishing."

"No... look, these guards were killed one at a time. Silently, so as not to alert the others. Or the neighbors. Some had their necks broken; others were stabbed, neatly, between the ribs. One was suffocated. They were picked off methodically to give... someone... access to this woman."

"That proves nothing."

"And there's the way she was killed. Someone physically dragged her out of her panic room. Then shot her in the head. Twice. From close range."

"Probably a mob hit."

"No. The police don't think so. She wasn't on her knees when she was shot. Mob guys always make their victims kneel apparently. Whoever did this wanted to look at their victim when they pulled the trigger."

He had it backwards this time. I didn't want to look at her. I wanted her to look at me. To know who was pulling the trigger.

"Maybe this guy took more pride in his work." I suggested.

"Maybe... but it wasn't brutal enough. There was no sadism. If one outfit was moving on another, they would have wanted to send a message. Something depraved, crazy, psychotic even. It's the same all over the galaxy. This was calculated. Deliberate. Like a surgeon chopping out something malignant."

Now he was back on track. The woman had been malignant. Like a tumor. Corrupting everything she touched. There was no way we could have let her survive.

"We could speculate all day sir. But whoever killed her , I expect she deserved it."

"I'm sure she did. But the point is, this was personal. This woman was executed. And you just so happened to know her."

"I did?"

I knew her only too well. And I wish with all my heart, that the day I met her had never happened.

"You were a recent house-guest of hers apparently."

"Really?" I asked. "Who was she? I didn't see any names in the report."

"The police withheld it. But our contacts were able to get a first name."

"Which was?"

"Lesley. Although I think you knew that."

"Lesley? That sounds like a pretty common name. There must be lots of Lesleys on a planet like Corellia."

"Come on private," the Jedi said, now clearly loosing his patience. "I've played along with this long enough. We all know what you did."

"I'm admitting nothing."

"Of course not. But you wouldn't be worthy of the uniform if you'd just stood back, after what she did."

I didn't reply.

"I understand. I really do. I heard you two were close."

I bit my tongue.

"Look private, even the Jedi Council approves. Unofficially of course. That's why CorSec was kept at arm's length for so long. But there's a limit to what they'll turn a blind eye to. You dump the worst horror show Corellia had ever seen in a century and leave them looking like they can't catch the perpetrator. The press is slaughtering them ten ways till Endor. They're humiliated."

"They'll get over it, or they'll just frame someone. Some lowlife they've been trying to get rid of for years."

The Jedi sighed and leaned back in his chair. He picked up a datapad that sat on his desk and started to scroll through the contents. After several minutes of silence, the Ithorian Jedi, leaned forward and slid the datapad across the table. I picked it up, but I didn't look at it.

"You're next mission." Fogarth said, clarifying what was on the 'pad. "There's no time to brief you properly, so everything you need to know is on that datapad. The Relentless is leaving in thirty minutes... with or without you. Dismissed."

Without a word, I stood up, saluted, and turned towards the door. As I approached it the Jedi stopped me.

"May the force be with you private. And good luck."

I had a feeling in my gut that I would need all the luck in the galaxy for Beta Squad's next mission. It gives me no pleasure when my feelings turn out to be right.

None at all.

Author's Note

Fot those of you who don't know. Yes, Des was acting well within the norms for a Republic Commando. They're trained and raised to be more indepenent than the Infantry clones. And it won't happen often but in a fanfic like this, if it ever switches to first person like that, it's usually important.