Jedi Artisan 007

The shooting range aboard the Hammerhead hummed with the steady, disciplined rhythm of practice fire. The high pitched whine of blaster bolts being discharging in the air was a constant sound effect. It was Zane's last day before they arrived at Mimban, and left hyperspace. He had chosen to finally rendezvous with that ambitious officer that he had crossed paths with on the first day. 

Standing beside him-at his invitation-was Lieutenant Garm Bel Iblis. Future leader of the Rebellion, ornery asshole, revolutionary, and overall radical. The man held firmly onto his convictions, and was one of the Republic's biggest stans. 

If Mon Mothma was a radical pacifist, Bail Organa a moderate that glued the trio of rebels together, then Iblis was a radical warmonger. Personally, Zane preferred the Crown Prince of Alderaan, as he was perhaps one of the greatest, most genuine leaders in the current era. However, Mon Mothma & Iblis-despite their glaring flaws-were ultimately, good people. 

The fact that Iblis was here, now, could only he seen as a good thing. Once he assembled a hit squad to take Palpatine out during the events of the Phantom Menace, all of the future history would become uncertain. Although he was nothing more than a humble tailor who liked to slack, that didn't mean he couldn't make friends with a future Senator, right? Afterall, the mantra of all slackers was ‘I'll do it tomorrow!’ a slightly lesser known saying though, was ‘someone else will take care of it!’ And what better way was there to slack, then to lay back, and have your over achiever friends do all the hard work? 

Grinning like a thief in the night, he glanced at the young officer, whilst he lined up a shot. The young man was quite rough around the edges for a Core Worlder. Eighteen years old, he had a tan common amongst Corellians, and his clean-shaven face was rife with quickly growing stubble where one day, an epic mustache would take root. 

A senator’s son, heir to the Corellian Mining Corporation, and full of ambition, yet he had been assigned to this old hunk of…this big beautiful ship that guarded the Republic's capital. It was quite curious. 

Iblis broke the silence first, voice clipped and formal. “You requested this meeting, Jedi Knight. I assume there’s a reason.”

Zane didn’t answer right away. He raised the pistol, settled his stance, and fired. Five shots cracked through the range in rapid succession. Each bolt struck dead center, burning a neat, identical hole through the target. Zane lowered his handgun, pleased at how bs the Force was. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel, and he patted the gun affectionately. 

“Yep, all~ skill.” He muttered to himself, as if he didn't just use his abilities to manipulate probabilities to look cool. 

Instead of looking at the target, and continue to admire his work like some sort of douchebag, he turned his head slightly toward Iblis. “Tell me something, why is one of the Sacred Twenty’s most famous sons standing watch over a ship everyone thinks is a floating hospice?”

The Force rippled, and he could sense the young officer barely withholding a twitch. Although Iblis didn't openly scowl, he was pissed. On Zane's part, he barely withheld a smirk from spreading across his face, and had to imagine something boring, like reciting the Code. 

Iblis’s jaw tightened, and the sound of molars grinding was ever so slightly audible. Measuring his response, Iblis sighted his pistol, and shot six targets-one further than Zane's-all in quick succession. 

“I go where I’m commanded. My loyalty is to my family and to the Republic. Those loyalties don’t conflict.” Iblis didn't even bother looking over, as he glanced at his score. 

Zane snorted, turning back to the range bench as he set the pistol down, and picked up a blaster rifle. “Funny. Because I hear the Tarkin boy from Eriadu is out there right now, burning pirate nests and collecting commendations.” He glanced sidelong at Iblis. “Seems like a waste to leave you polishing bulkheads on a dead-end post.”

Iblis’s eyes flicked toward the rifle in Zane's hands, then back to the range. “You don’t know my circumstances.”

“No, but I know my history. The Iblis family has bled for the Republic longer than most senatorial dynasties have existed. You’ve produced generals, reformers, people who stood side by side with the Jedi for generations. Corellia even hosts a Temple. We-our two great causes-have fought together for millenia.” Zane grandly gestured, only to have the taciturn young man gently-slowly-push the over extended rifle away. 

“Mhm” Zane embarrassedly cleared his throat, then line up his next shot. “And now there’s you. Wet behind the ears, and deployed to this floating retirement home. I may not know your circumstances, Lieutenant Iblis, but I know that you were born for greatness. You are wasting your talents being stationed just outside of Coruscant.” 

Zane subtly waved his hand, and cast a [Mind Trick], to discover why Iblis was being so defensive. 

Iblis exhaled through his nose, it was something between a scoff and a laugh. 

“I’m no stranger to flattery, Jedi. If this is all you dragged me here for, then you’re wasting my time. Coruscant is a hotbed of activities, my posting is to create connections, meet new people, and build experience in the military. All perfectly normal things for a young scion.” Iblis scoffed, explaining his situation. Although each word he stated seemed to be through grit teeth. 

Zane could tell that this ‘socializing’ aspect was certainly grating on him! 

“And if you’re going to keep uttering such vapid flattery, you might as well leave.” Iblis crossed his arms, and declared. 

For a moment, the range was quiet again. Just two men, the hum of their ship, and the occasional sound of boots marching in the hallway. 

Zane studied him, unbothered by the outburst, as if this reaction had been precisely what he’d expected. Iblis in the future was a man who played things close to his chest, but when he had an outburst, or wanted to say what was on his mind, he'd really tell you what he thought! In a world of double crossing politicians, hypocritical Jedi, and corpos who would stripmine your world with a smile, this abrasive jerk was refreshing. 

“Oh.” He said calmly, eyes glinting with mischief. “Now that would be a waste.”

Aiming his rifle, he then pulled the trigger on full auto. Red bolts were spat down range, and scattered all over the place. Star Wars small weapons were notorious for having terrible accuracy at full auto, and unlike turbolasers fired from starfighters or ships, the rifle wasn't being shot in the vacuum of space. Yet despite that, this seemingly chaotic action resulted in perfect, dead center shots each and every time. 

Iblis's eyes went wide, and this time, he couldn't even pretend to hide the shock that was forming on his face. Zane let the silence stretch just long enough for it to become uncomfortable.

After a minute, he stubbed the safety with his thumb, and slung the blaster over his back. He then exuded an aura through the Force, tapping into Iblis's subconscious, letting him know that what was to be said next was serious business. 

“Two names showed up on the manifest right before we jumped. They were last-minute additions. Jenson Jarstone. Emma Lightring.”

Iblis’s eyes narrowed a fraction. He said nothing, but the name Jarstone clearly rang a bell.

“Czerka Corporation has its fingerprints all over Jarstone’s education. Lightring’s financial trail runs through shell accounts that loop back to Damask Holdings. They're each, individually clean on the surface. Immaculate, even. Which usually means someone spent a lot of money-or pulled the right levers- to make it that way. It also just so happens that Damask Holdings is the company we are to negotiate a settlement with, alongside the locals. Czerka Corp, meanwhile, lost a prior bid on Mimban, their spy cannot be up to any good.”

Iblis’s posture stiffened even further, if that was even possible. His gaze snapped to the far wall, unfocusing as the implications that Zane had laid out became abundantly clear. 

“Czerka… Damask…how dare they be so blatant about it. They are going against the unwritten rules in every regard! Corporate intelligence embedded on a Republic cruiser, at least go through the proper channels! To be so obtuse on the eve of a diplomatic mission, this is the height of folly!”  He looked back at Zane. “My family shall make sure word of their dishonor is recorded, and spread across all sectors.” 

“A good start.” Zane slowly nodded his head, a small smile spreading across his face as he finally got this future firebrand to react. 

“But I am curious. Why tell me? Why all this cloak & dagger? Why not go straight to Captain Monogan? Surely the spreading of this slander was not your only goal?” The ambitious Senator's son almost reached out to grab ahold of Zane. Passion burned in his gaze, now that he finally had something to turn his ambitions towards. 

Zane folded his hands into the wide sleeves of his Jedi robe, and wore a lackadaisical smile. Standing in a relaxed, unserious posture, he could tell that the Corellian was slowly becoming triggered by his seemingly uncaring attitude. 

“I already answered that question, right?” He rhetorically asked, tilting his head in a way that set Iblis’s molars to ‘grind.’ Before Iblis could finally explode, Zane kept speaking. “The Jedi Order and the Iblis family have been allies for generations. We don’t always agree on everything, but we trust each other when it matters.”

Iblis didn’t look entirely convinced.

Zane tilted his head, studying the young officer like a puzzle he already knew the solution to. “Besides, weren’t you posted on Coruscant to make friends? Build alliances?” 

A wicked smile spread across Zane's face as he called the ornery, opinionated super pro-Republic officer out on his hypocrisy. 

“How’s that going? With a fun personality like yours, I’m sure you’re the life of the party. Seeing as you can see through all the fakes, and faux flaterers, you must've met some real true blue friends.” Zane sarcastically remarked, staring Iblis down as if he had seen him for what he was, much to the Corellian's discomfort. 

Iblis scowled. “That’s not-”

Zane lifted one hand, palm outward, cutting him off without even looking up. “But~ I am a magnanimous friend. And I forgive you for your stiff greeting and gruff attitude.”

Iblis opened his mouth again, clearly unwilling to let that stand, aaand Zane simply turned around, and started walking away.

“What in the Unknown Regions do you want from me? I will not be used!” Iblis growled, forcing his words out so as not to be spoken over. “...and we're not friends!” 

“Be ready,” Zane called over his shoulder as he reached the door, totally ignoring everything Iblis said. “In the coming days, I expect you’ll earn a few commendations. Maybe even some merits that'll make your family proud.”

He paused at the door as it hissed open, a rare moment of solemnity crossing his face. 

“Just keep your eyes open. Corporate types have a habit of doing funny business when they think no one important is watching.”

Iblis’s eyebrow twitched as the door shut. 

“...what do you even mean by ‘Corporate types’ my family own half of Corellia!” He spat, muttering to himself. “As if I'd listen to some guy in a bathrobe. The Jedi have been unreliable since the Ruusan Accords.” Iblis crossed his arms and spat. 

Yet a sudden push on his dataslate chock full of information beeped a second later. Glancing at the notification, and the dirt on the latest crewmembers, he couldn't help it, and his curiosity got the best of him. 

The fires of ambition burning in his heart, Garm Bel Iblis reluctantly opened the email. 

After all, this matter regarded the very sanctity of the Republic, right? 

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Zane was walking away, whistling a merry tune, with his hands resting behind his head. 

‘Go, my overachieving friend. With your tism triggered, you'll have to get to the bottom of this rabbit hole! Poor Garm Bel Iblis, finessed into doing-gasp-his job!’ 

Will the evil hypocrisy of the Jedi ever cease?!