| Logs |
2003 June 07
| These Shattered Stars |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: These Shattered Stars Logs |
Chapter Six, Part Five
After the library computers have been checked to see what else the Templars might have learned, the small group scatters to start their individual processes of packing. It takes no longer for Freyja than for any of the others... a few changes of clothes, getting her big planter out and safely moved, and she's done. She looks around irresolutely, then heads for the medical center to see if she can help there at all.
The Silver Path apparently has been planning this departure for a while, but it still comes at a sudden time. The Pathers and the refugees are hastily gathered in the commissary, where the presbyter informs them of what must be done, and quickly. The refugees are asked to remain clear of the Pathers as they go about their duties; any help would be greatly appreciated. Anyone who wishes to leave is requested to leave immediately.
There's really not much for Freyja to help with, though... the self-mutilated Mandragolan is unconscious, suspended in the bacta tank for a few days. The other two Templars are still unconscious also, although it's due to Freyja's anesthetic rather than self-mutilation. Freyja sighs quietly to herself, then makes an offer to the guard next to Templar Cassandra -- she'll swap places with the guard and keep an eye on the Templar until she wakes, if the guard would like?
The guard readily agrees, as he -- or she; it's one of those species where it's hard to tell -- is needed in packing up the armory. It is a harder job than it seems, as some of the weapons in the Silver Path's inventory date back hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Freyja is shortly left alone in the infirmary, save for three adepts a room away who are cataloging and packing up medicines and bacta.
Freyja silently reviews the battle of moments ago, going over what happened in her mind and trying to figure out where things went so horribly wrong. She's not sure how she knew from the very beginning to be mildly suspicious of Cassandra, either... but that personal analysis can wait until later, she suspects. Right now she has more immediate concerns.
Freyja knows the Silver Path cannot bring the Templars along on the move. Just as surely, she knows they won't be slain out of hand -- that is not the way of the Silver Path any more than it is the way of the Jedi. That means, in effect... the Templars will be helped to recover, held until the move... and then either escape or be sent elsewhere and escape from there.
Freyja sighs quietly, worrying internally about what happens after that... and slowly her thoughts become quiet murmurs addressed to the comatose Templar before her. "I... don't understand you people. I just don't. Jedi Lady Dji says I shouldn't see you as sick, but what's my alternative, when one of you brutalizes himself out of fear? I can't just label you all as evil instead... and misguided just doesn't cover the emotional depths that poor Mandragolan fell to."
Maybe something in Freyja's attention being focused on the Templar rouses her. Groggily, almost sleepily, Cassandra murmurs, "Not... out of fear. Templars... do not fear..."
Freyja falls silent again for a bit, still musing, then adds unhappily, "And you're going to escape... we both know you will. Will you kill anyone on the way out? Even if you don't... what then? You're going to do your absolute best to harm us." She curls her legs up into a half lotus, making herself comfortable on the chair, and morosely adds, "Oh, sure, easy for you to say. You weren't empathizing with that poor fool -- Dji was."
She adds quietly a moment later, "You're supposed to be sleeping, you know... not arguing philosophy with me." She sighs with a rueful smile, then adds, "I don't think I believe that any more, either. If you weren't afraid -- why did you attack an opponent who was seeking only to talk you out of attempted suicide?" She considers a moment, then quietly muses, "You looked really surprised when Vakkal defended me. Did you really think all Sith were evil?" A bit more sadly she adds, "How little you think of me, and of Master Roakkana, if you believe we'd spend any time around those without honor."
Freyja shakes her head, still amazed at the incident, "And you would have nearly killed me, were it not for Vakkal. I was completely out of position -- it didn't even occur to me a Templar would attack an unarmed Jedi without warning." Slowly she adds, "Do you really know what honor is...? -or has it just become cant to the Templars now?"
The Templar's voice grows a little stronger. "I have... been bound to Gurrid Sjiast for five... five standard years, as part of... a manus. I know him, and he knows me... better than anyone in the Galaxy." Her eyes open, though she is apparently still a little weary from the sedative. "I told you... our mandate was not battle. You would not let us go. If you were facing capture, would you not seek freedom?"
Freyja says, "Yes, of course I'd seek freedom... but I'd do it cleverly, using my brains -- not by mutilating myself so my friends had to wait until I healed, or be handicapped by having to carry me out!" More sadly she adds, "Nor would I betray my sacred oaths to both Republic and Order. You know as well as I the Templar manuses belong by oath on Corruscant -- and Corruscant alone."
Slowly Cassandra starts to come to a little more. "All the Sith we have met have sought the death of Jedi. If not as the Oath of Fire, then simply because it was part of the war. That one of Khar Velos, a race in thrall to the Sith, would defend a Jedi was the surprise. I remembered too late he has been your sworn bodyguard for half a year or more. Again, you wished to prevent us from leaving. We told you we needed to leave, and that no harm would come if we were allowed to leave. I know we cannot speak of ourselves as honorable, those of us who have broken our oath to the Republic. But we must bear this shame to help the Republic. It is a burden we carry, but if it means the survival of the Republic, then we do cannot mind having our names struck from history. It is our duty."
Freyja smiles and shakes her head, refusing to answer more, nor to further bait the poor fanatic. Instead she simply murmurs gently, "I expect you'll continue to try your best to damage the reputations of myself and my friends, by attacking our, and our family's honor... nor will you listen to reason, from what I've seen. Nevertheless, arguing with you while you are half-drugged is not fair..." her voice grows a bit stronger as she adds, "-and I will not attack when my opponent is incapacitated." She sighs, resting her chin on one fist, "Therefore I suggest you rest and gather your strength... for your impending 'escape.'" There is a hint of bitterness in her voice at that final comment... and then she falls silent, simply sitting guard over the groggy and captive Templar.
Cassandra also shakes her head, and sighs. "You are as closed-minded as you accuse us of being," she murmurs, looking up at the overhead. "But as you wish..." She falls silent, closing her eyes, not quite falling asleep but not quite remaining awake, either.
Over the next few days the group continues their training, though it is abbreviated while the Silver Path devotes most of their immediate effort to battening down everything for packing. Their intent is to leave only mildly dusty caverns for the Jedi -- or whomever -- to find. Part of that packing up is the library of actual, bound books and scrolls, much more of the former than the latter. Ironically, as electronic and photonic storage media became more prevalent in the galaxy, scrolls came into much greater use than bound books. it didn't take a machine shop to make a scroll, after all. And so Freyja finds herself, Vakkal, and Dji sorting through the more recent collections of printed material that the Silver Path has. Older materials are being handled by adepts who appear to have special training in handling antique media. This group includes Liam, who is splitting his time between the ancient-media library and the ancient-material armory.
While they are working, a quiet chuckle comes from Dji. "Oh, this is an old friend... Freyja, come here for a moment. This is something you might enjoy reading, and pass on to your Graysider friend..."
Freyja mms absently, looking up from a scroll that's captured her attention as well... then patters quietly over to see what the hetaera is holding. "What's this?"
Dji is holding a well-worn scroll that appears to be made from spider silk, with rollers of chrome or silver. "The Koans of the Silver Master. It dates back to the time of the Kono, before the Silver Path was founded. It's a collection of sayings and koans from a number of very advanced Konotori, though it refers only to a single 'Silver Master.' I ran into it in the Archives ten years ago. It had a Seal a parsec thick on it; heretical as anything short of the Dark Jedi teachings."
Freyja grins cheerfully at the hetaera, "So you brought it here, where it would be better appreciated?" With gentle, almost reverent fingers she takes the slender, delicate-looking scroll, "May I see it?"
She chuckles, letting Freyja take it. "Not I, no. At least, not this one. This copy is seven hundred years old. Every so often a copy appears here and there. In a post-industrial civilization there's precious few tomes that exist only as a single copy. Of course, those that are singular and unique are that way for a reason."
Freyja nods slowly, already absorbed in carefully re-rolling the scroll so she can read from the beginning. She settles down cross-legged, out of the way, and happily regards the title, "'The Koans of the Silver Master.' Hai, I'll definitely have to be sure Zero sees this!" She falls silent, then, the almost magical sounding words running through her head... 'On Balance'...
The Koans Of The Silver Master
I: On Balance
Two novices were discussing which should guide the enlightened more in their interactions with others, Ashla or Boghan. The Master heard their discussion. To them the Master said, "Learn balance before you teach balance."
A novice asked of the Master, "Is it right for us to kill?" And the Master said, "Who would you seek to kill? Who is your enemy? What have they done? Why would you kill them? If you know the answers to these questions, then, no, it is not right."
The novice pressed further, asking, "Is it permissible to kill to survive?" The Master replied, "Sustenance, safety, friends: these are what you need to survive in the universe."
The novice asked, "Is it permissible to kill to bring about balance?" The Master answered, "Revenge is not balance."
The Master and his novice were walking along a road when they espied a Darksider about to slay a peasant woman. The Master defeated the Darksider and killed him. The novice asked, "In the grand scheme of things, with the Light being so strong in the Galaxy, would it not have served to balance things more if he was allowed to continue?" The Master replied, "Her universe was not being balanced."
A novice was on a narrow bench, cleaning a wall, when he bemoaned that he was not learning balance. The Master overheard, and kicked one set of legs from the bench. The bench toppled, but the student remained standing and was enlightened.
A Senator was visiting the place where the Master was, and the novices were open in their greetings of her, welcoming her and offering her food and drink after her journey. They entreated the Master to help them entertain their guest. The Master replied, "Balance must come from within, not without."
The Master once said, "Ashla is Boghan and Boghan is Ashla. Do not get the two confused."
The Master also said, "Fire burns. Night chills. And you are never really comfortable in either."
The Master said further, "We all walk the Saber's Edge."
II: On the Dark Side
A novice asked the Master, "What role do Darksiders play?" to which the Master replied, "Destruction, chaos, confusion, fear; and growth from overcoming same. These do not exist in a vacuum."
The novice then asked: "Why should we tolerate Darksiders if they cause pain and death?" And the Master replied: "Who said we tolerate them?"
Once again, the novice pressed the Master, asking, "Should we suffer what Darksiders do without struggling to overcome their works?" The Master replied: "Balance is always a struggle."
The Master was asked, "Is there too much light in the universe?" The reply was, "There is too much darkness, as well."
A novice approached the Master one day. "Master," she asked, "are we to be embodiments of the Dark Side if the Light threatens to overwhelm?" The Master replied, "Night does not balance day. Twilight balances each of them."
A Darksider approached the Master once, seeking understanding. "Is the only difference between you and I a matter of motivation?" Thus replied the Master: "Isn't that enough?"
The Darksider posited a scenario to the Master: "If the Jedi come to you and say you are a heretic and are to be arrested, would you surrender to them, or would you fight them?" The Master replied: "I would not be there for them to arrest me or to fight."
The Darksider asked of the Master, "Would you destroy something or someone that was causing great harm?" The Master replied: "I do not destroy. I preserve."
The Darksider exclaimed, "What arrogance you have to say that you are above your own desires!" The Master laughed and said, "I am above nothing about myself."
The Darksider questioned the Master further, asking, "You do not deny the Darkside causes needed conflict for the Lightside, allowing growth?" The Master replied: "This is growth: to gain understanding of one's self towards the goal of becoming balanced, thence to aid others in likewise becoming balanced."
The Darksider asked, "Do you admit that the dark is as necessary as the light?" The Master said, "You fail to understand me; I said that struggle against the dark is as necessary as the light."
III: On the Light Side
A novice wailed, "Master, the Jedi are so strong, the Light Side is so powerful! How can we bring balance to the galaxy?" The Master smiled and said nothing.
"Tell us, Master," a novice said, "if we are to always be kind and considerate to others, does that not make us servants of Ashla, and like unto the Jedi?" The Master replied, "We are who we need to be, when we need to."
The novices approached the Master, and asked what they should do now that the Jedi were dominant. The Master replied, "You do not try to fight fire with ice."
A novice proclaimed once, "We are viewed with suspicion and distrust. I will go out into the galaxy and do good works and show that we are good people." The Master replied, "Be a mirror, not a beacon."
In a city once, the Master and his novice witnessed a Jedi speaking to a crowd, extolling the virtues of the Light. The Master snorted and walked away. The novice asked, "Why did you leave? The Jedi was not lying in any of his words." The Master replied, "But part of the Truth is no Truth at all."
The Master was once asked why the Light must be so dominant in the galaxy. The Master replied thusly: "Fire gives us warmth, cooks our food, and staves off the encroaching night. We cleave to the fire for these reasons. We cleave so closely we are either burned or cannot imagine a life without it."
A Jedi once approached the Master, entreating his aid against a Darksider who was terrorizing the lands. The Master readily agreed. The novices came to the Master, saying, "Master, Master, why are you helping the Jedi?" "I am not helping the Jedi; I am helping those who are being denied their futures."
A Darksider later approached the Master, asking for his aid in destroying a Jedi master who had wronged him. The Master refused and turned away the Darksider. The novices approached the Master, saying, "Master, Master, would it not have balanced the universe to have destroyed the Jedi?" "It would have served no purpose than to feed that fool Darksider's thirst for revenge. Balance was not his goal."
A Jedi approached the Master once, seeking understanding. "How can you justify deeds which cause pain and suffering in others?" The Master replied, "We do not grow without suffering."
The Jedi asked of the Master, "Where is the line between necessary and needless suffering?" In answer, the Master said, "We do not learn if we are dead. Neither do we learn if we are deaf to the words being spoken to us."
The Jedi said, "What is balance for me as a servant of the Light?" "Balance is not what you seek. For you it is accepting that destruction is a part of the universe."
The Jedi exclaimed, "Why must there be destruction, endless destruction?" The Master replied: "Imagine if there was creation, endless creation!"
IV: On the Gray Path
A novice asked if the Master would become sublimated into the Force upon their death, as Jedi masters sometimes did. The Master gnashed their teeth and said, "Is it not enough that I do the work I can in the waking world?"
"Why must we be persecuted for our beliefs? Is not the Gray Path alone difficult enough?" The Master said, "Persecution is not a part of the Gray Path. It is a part of the paths that others walk."
A novice once asked the Master, "What does it mean to be balanced in the Force?" The Master replied, "To be in balance is to know yourself thoroughly and without shame."
The Master was asked, "Can we not find anything to be proud of on the Gray Path?" Thus replied the Master: "You are not looking hard enough."
Two novices were arguing about what a traveler upon the Gray Path could do to bring balance to the universe, and could not agree. They approached the Master. "Which is the proper role for a walker of the Gray Path, Master?" they asked. "Teacher, or soldier, or leader?" "Yes."
The Master said, "Teach by your motivations. If you cannot teach by your motivations, teach by your deeds. If you cannot teach by your deeds, teach by your hopes."
V: On Preservation as the Gray Path
The Master once said to a novice, "Destroy what needs destroying. Create what needs creating. Preserve what needs preserving. Of these, preservation requires the most thought."
A novice asked of the Master once, "What does it mean to preserve?" The Master replied, "A beam of rotten wood can support only so much weight before it collapses and brings the house down with it."
Another novice asked of the Master the same question. The Master replied, "If no children are born, how is the colony to grow?"
A third novice asked the Master why the novices had been given two different answers to the same question. The Master replied, "I gave the same answer. You only heard two different answers."
"Master, when are we to know when to create and when to destroy in pursuit of preservation?" The Master looked askance at the novice, and said, "You do neither; you preserve."
The Master once said, "The sick body does not last long without treatment."
A seeker of knowledge sought out the Master, and asked, "How am I to know when preservation calls for destruction, and when preservation calls for creation?" The Master shook his head. "Preservation is preservation. It is neither creation nor destruction. It is something special."
The Master lamented, "Who lives? Who dies? Ask yourself first what within you should live and what within you should die, before you take up the shard-sword against another."
A novice sat in meditation for a day and a night, but could find no answer to his question. He approached the Master, and said, "I am lost, Master. I wish to go forth and stymie the bright dominance of the Light, promote the nighttime conflict of the Dark. And yet how can I take away the warmth of the light from others who have done no crime? How can I visit pain and chaos upon those who have done no wrong?" The Master smiled. "You do not cast aside a crown if one jewel is flawed. You seek to have the jewel replaced by a flawless one."
The Master once mused, "Wondrous it would be if the Light learned how to destroy, or the Dark how to create. Surely on that day they would both learn balance, as well."
A novice crept up to the Master once and asked, "Must we kill to preserve something good?" The Master replied, "There are always options. One may as well ask, 'Must we procreate to annul something bad?'"
A week later, preparations for departure are nearing completion. In the main hall, the group and the teachers are discussing in-flight arrangements for training. "It won't be easy," Danka says. "We have no ships which can carry the Eclipse and provide a lot of space for us all at once, except for one of the freighters. And that one is needed for the bulk of the material we can't leave behind or destroy."
Freyja looks puzzled, "Why don't we just fly with you? There's certainly room on Eclipse, isn't there, guys? And Master Roakkana made a nice place to sleep in the cargo hold, and he's as tall as Master Thann?"
Danka looks discomfited, "Well, mainly because we can't all escape in one ship. We have about three dozen small ships, from couriers to Corellian light freighters to a pair of light bulk transports." She considers Freyja's words. "Well... that's certainly possible. As it is, we'll need to make frequent deep-space restocking stops anyway. With all eight of us, your ship will surely be a bit strained, but maybe frequent re-supplying might alleviate that."
Freyja smiles, "That's fine with me." She looks inquiringly at her friends, to see if they can think of a reason this wouldn't work.
Zero says, "I'd feel safer with a couple of you in the Platinum Eclipse anyway, I trust her implicitly." Freyja nods thoughtfully -- that also is an excellent point Zero's made. She hopes Zero can learn some Force-related abilities concerning ships, as it occurs to her that's the easiest time to cleanly dispatch the entire triat -- instead of taking them on, downside.
Danka nods, and just then the presbyter drifts into the hall. "Ah, good, you're all here," she says a little distractedly. "I hope plans are going quickly. I've arranged for protection for the convoy. We'll be in Hutt space and the unknown regions for long enough to make it uncomfortable, and just in case the Jedi find us early on..."
Freyja looks with interest at the Presbyter, wondering what protection has been arranged, and what's intended should Jedi find them soon. Zero says, "The Platinum Eclipse is armed, albeit lightly. We can defend ourselves, so concentrate on keeping the convoy safe and we'll help as best we can."
The presbyter nods, "Thank you. We do appreciate that." At that moment the door to the main hall opens with a *whoosh*ing hiss, and standing in the doorway...
-are two Mandalorians.
Zero reaches instinctively for his lightsaber. Freyja sighs quietly, "Oh, joy," then wonders if that's the protection, even as her lightsaber leaps to her hand and Battlemind starts to slip across her perception.
Both are of apparently average height. One, the taller, has silver trim on the armor, while the other has a sort of dark red trim. The shorter one has a bowcaster cradled in their arms. The two narrow-visored helmets look between the lightsabers -- four, since Fhazil and Vakkal have theirs out too; all as yet unlit -- in front of them, before looking slowly, as one, to the Presbyter.
The presbyter, for her part, makes a sheepish sound. "I... should have warned you, I am sorry."
Zero straightens up. "The protection." He shakes his head, "My fault." He slips the saber into his sash again, "Jumped the gun."
Freyja nods, tucking Kourakani away, then nods politely to the Mandalorians, "Greetings." She looks curiously at the Presbyter. The Silver Path might be small, but apparently it is hugely well funded! Then she asks quietly, "What of the Templars, Presbyter?"
Zero takes a deep breath. "Too damned high-strung lately." He turns to Thann and continues to discuss quietly with him the ship's potential uses to the convoy. "The reconfigurable armor puts us in a good position to intercept threats to the larger vessels. I'd feel better if we had heavier weaponry, but nothing's perfect..."
The presbyter hesitates for a moment; even Danka looks somewhat confused. "A bit more than just protection," the presbyter confesses.
The presbyter nods to Freyja. "We... cannot bring them with us. We will drop them off at another station in this system where they will be cared for until the Jedi arrive. Or they steal a ship and escape -- we're not sure which they will do." Freyja sighs softly and consideringly at the news about the Jedi. She wishes she could do something to help them... but with what, or how, she doesn't know.
"We're starting a betting pool, if you'd care to join it," Merroukah provides.
Danka nods to Zero. "We can't provide an upgrade to your ship's weapons, I'm afraid. At least, a physical upgrade. I will see if there are any Force techniques we could use to assist."
The two Mandalorians step forward. The one in silver-trimmed armor reaches up and slips the helmet off. A cascade of long, dark hair tumbles out. With a flick of his hand the Mandalorian clears the hair from his brown eyes, then looks mildly between the group's members. He looks perfectly Human, as if from Alderaan or Corellia... or Balmorra, for that matter. "Not exactly the welcome we were expecting, Presbyter," he says wryly, with a note of accusation.
Freyja has to cover a small grin at the Mandalorian's words. To the Presbyter she says, "So... what does 'a bit more than just protection' mean, please, Presbyter? Do you refer to the Mandalorians, or something else?" She can't help giving the unhelmeted Mandalorian a long, curious, thoughtful look, though. To Freyja's eyes awakened to the Force, the Mandalorians appear to be relatively normal -- that is, they are clearly not awakened in the Force, though it seems to be slightly more present with them than in most living beings. Not uncommon amongst particularly driven, creative and artistic, or vivacious persons.
Zero grins, "My gunnery skills haven't rusted away entirely yet." To his teacher he adds, "I'm in on that." Merroukah snickers and makes a quiet notation on her datapad. Zero scratches the back of his head and nods to the Mandalorian. "Sorry, friend. Consider it a professional compliment."
The Mandalorian grins faintly to Zero. "I'll take it as such, then, thank you."
The Presbyter steps forward to the Mandalorian. "Well," she says to the group and their teachers. "It means the Mandalorians in a sense, yes, Freyja. My friends, may I introduce Colonel San Raven, of the Mandalorians."
Raven nods politely to the group, then turns back to the presbyter. "We had not expected your call."
The presbyter nods. "I know. It was necessary."
There is the ghost of a smile on the colonel's face. "I would not expect it to be otherwise." The two exchange an odd gesture, then: the hand set before the chest, fingers folded together but for the index and middle fingers which are pointed upward, before being closed into a loose fist and held over the heart, where the two exchange a slight but somehow meaningful bow. Freyja watches in silent fascination. She'd love to ask -- but saves her rampant curiosity for later.
The colonel nods once to the presbyter, before stepping closer to the group. "Well," he says, with more animation now. "You must be the 'important ones' whom the presbyter said warranted calling in a ten-thousand-year-old debt."
Freyja blinks startledly, then looks at the Presbyter in astonishment, "What?!" She adds almost reflexively, "Holy crow!"
Zero says, "Ten thousand...?"
Freyja studies the Mandalorian and the Presbyter with real fascination, then says politely, "Someday when we have the time, I would dearly love to hear that story." She remembers her manners and introduces her friends and herself to the Mandalorian colonel, then adds a bit wistfully, "Although... I suppose we should be leaving now, hai?"
The presbyter says wryly, "'Debt'? Not 'homecoming'?"
"Debt. Homecoming. It's the same thing in this case." He smiles quietly at the expressions. "Oh. Considering your reaction, I guess she didn't tell you. The story is so old it's almost legend now, but... we too had a quiet role in the Heresy Wars." His smile flickers. "Though we weren't then what we are now. For now, though, the important thing is to start moving." He nods to the presbyter. "Presbyter, we are at your service."
The presbyter nods. "It's almost time to go, yes."
Zero says, "Fhazil and I can start prepping the Eclipse for departure. Danka, Thann, if either of you would like to examine the ship, you're welcome to do so."
Danka and Thann both nod. "We both should, yes," Danka says. "We both have some experience with ship operations."
The packing continues. More than a few refugees take this opportunity to escape. Secrecy is maintained, and will be until the last. The only outward sign of anything amiss is Liam not having his shop open as often as before. The crates and containers are being packed away quietly aboard the various dilapidated-looking ships in the corner berths of the shipyard, with none of the residents the wiser.
Freyja quietly spends time with the gyrrons, if that will help Liam. The gyrrons are, of course, more than pleased to spend time with Freyja; at some point they've started pleasantly offering Freyja various still-squirming, scampering tidbits, going so far as to making sure they're still alive so she can catch them herself. How sweet!
Freyja tends to giggle, solemnly thank the gyrrons for their kindness, then assure them she's quite full and they should partake -- wouldn't want to waste tasty nibbles, after all! The gyrrons are hardly daunted, though they swallow down the un-dined-upon morsels, offering again to Freyja each time she visits.
The Mandalorians apparently arrived by a completely anonymous cruiser, and there are a lot of them -- twenty at least. They spend most of their time helping to get all the ships available to the Path not only space-worthy, but also... if not combat-worthy, then at least combat-survivable. Colonel Raven spends most of the time remaining arranging for escorts for the Silver Path ships -- like the Jedi, the Mandalorians favor small ships which allow them to exercise their skills. From all appearances, there will be ten Mandalorian ships escorting the Silver Path fleet... as far as it needs to go.
Freyja is a bit surprised at how many there are... but says nothing, simply watching with fascinated interest whenever she can and one (or more) is around. She can't help wondering if she's ever unwittingly met any of them before. She hopes not.
Of the two Mandalorians Freyja has had relatively direct contact with in the past (not counting the several in attendance at her betrothal), it doesn't look like any of the ones at Zhar have similar armor or colors. Each Mandalorian appears to have their own color preference and subtle differences in their armor patterns, yet there is some kind of hierarchy at work within their ranks.
They are clearly professional military. If one could afford the doubtless exorbitant price, a mercenary army of Mandalorians should be quite dramatically effective. Freyja smiles ruefully to herself at the thought. With luck... she won't have to see that.
It is while Freyja is helping the medical staff by cataloging and stowing the herbs in the apothecary that one of the Mandalorians pokes her head in. With dark, dusky skin and flashing black eyes, short-cropped black hair, and cyan trim to her armor, she is rather sheepishly holding a compress to the back of her hand. "Jedi Freyja?" she asks pleasantly. "I'm wondering if you could help me; a cargo box went one way when I wanted it to go in the other..."
Freyja looks up, then blinks a little worriedly, "Uh-oh... did you break anything?" She politely excuses herself, then goes to see how the Mandalorian woman is.
The Mandalorian shakes her head. "No, nothing broken, but quite a lot of blood, I'm afraid." The compress is starting to develop a moist red coloration in a vaguely line-shaped pattern.
Freyja takes the woman's hand gently in her own, then with her free hand carefully lifts the compress. There's a vicious gash across the back of the woman's hand, bleeding freely now. Obviously she wasn't wearing gauntlets when the box shifted. Freyja tchs quietly, concentrating on the wound as she sets the compress down, then brings her medkit up under the woman's hand, so there's a bare skin surface to work with. A few moments later she knows she's done -- it was a perfect medical response. She smiles at the Mandalorian, "There you go. You're lucky none of the delicate bones in the hand shattered." She grins, adding, "I'm afraid I'm not much of a clean-up magician, though... we'll have to wipe up the blood the old fashioned way."
The Mandalorian smiles. "Thank you. And that doesn't bother me. I'm mostly just glad there's a good healer here. It's not often we get that luxury."
Freyja gives the Mandalorian a curious look, "Really? None of you go into the medical profession, or you don't usually take them off planet?" A moment later she blinks, then laughs softly, "Oh, dear... where are my manners? As you know, I hight Freyja... and you are...?"
The Mandalorian inclines her head. "Balmorran, hei? It's very distinctive. I'm Ges Crane; pleased to meet you." She smiles. "Well, we all get basic medical training, and some of us practice medicine full-time -- every army needs its medics -- but the way we work puts us alone more often than not. Not every employer hires us in stryke-sized units which have a medic assigned."
Freyja considers, then nods, "Hai, that makes sense." She considers for another moment, then slowly, curiously asks, "Don't you... well... I mean, isn't it... kind of lonely, always working alone with neh backup?"
"Oh, always," Crane replies, nodding. "None of us really like it, though we're trained for it. And any of us would like at least some backup at any time. That's the hardest -- when things go wrong and there's nobody with even a vibroknife to watch your back." She grins merrily. "Which is why there was no shortage of volunteers when Colonel Raven told us about this."
Freyja blinks, then laughs! She grins back at the Mandalorian, "I can understand that." She considers another moment, then adds politely, "Would you like some help with that crate? I wouldn't mind doing something a bit more physical for a bit, if so?"
Freyja goes quiet for a moment, wondering what the Mandalorian who had the contract for Captain Thorn must have thought, seeing a Jedi with him. It's a little disconcerting, to suddenly be able to empathize with someone trying to kill you... and neh wonder the Mandalorian had so many traps in place! When there's no backup, better overkill than not, she supposes.
Crane nods, "Sure, I'd appreciate it; thank you! It's over in the machinery space." As she walks with Freyja to that space, she asks, "So, how did a Jedi come to be part of the Silver Path? Or is that something I shouldn't ask..."
Or was it really trying to kill me? Freyja wonders. It's just a job to them, right...? She tilts her head, studying the woman with her as she walks, and smiles, "Oh, I'm still a Jedi. We're just trying to make a triat, and we need the help of the Silver Path to do so." She wonders if that will cause the odd reaction again that she first saw with Colonel Raven, concerning triats and the threesome.
"A triat? What -- oh, wait. Silver Path, ancient history, the debt... I remember now. Well, I don't know the details of what a triat means, but I wish you luck in it."
Freyja smiles, "Thank you. So... what's this debt?" She steps easily to take the other end of the crate tipped on its side, guessing that's the one which injured Crane earlier.
Crane takes the opposite end, not needing to favor her completely healed hand at all. "Well... it's a little hard to explain. We're not entirely sure of the details, but when the first part of the Heresy Wars ended with the pursuit of the Dark Jedi, more problems were just starting. The Kono were pledged to help the Jedi, but something happened. Nobody's sure what, but the founder of the Silver Path went into hiding then. One of his children escaped and gathered together a large number of Kono sentinels -- the equivalent of Jedi guardians, I think. The Silver Path helped them evade the Jedi even as the Path tried to find a harmonious balance in things -- the triat was developed by the founder of the Silver Path. With the Path's help, the sentinels eventually found a planet deep in the gal-west region: Mandalore. And thus," she finishes, grinning, "the Colonel's rather dramatic mention of a ten-thousand-year-old debt."
Freyja is silent, pondering thoughtfully as she helps carry the large crate. Finally she says slowly, "I wish... wish we knew more." She puts her end of the box where Crane directs her to, then adds equally quietly, "Do Mandalorians ever change their minds about contracts?"
"'Be careful what you wish for,' is what my training banner always told me when I said that. Especially if you're Force-awakened. Change their mind? Not usually, no. You see, we turned to the mercenary life to survive. Mandalore is a pleasant enough world but we've been struggling. It's very resource-poor, as are all the worlds of that sector. And now we -- that is, our dependants -- number in the billions. So reneging on a contract means no payment, a mark against our otherwise excellent record, and fewer resources for our homes." She is quiet a little as they walk with the crate. "Let me guess," she says gently, "someone you know has a Mandalorian after them?"
Freyja nods silently, pacing quietly along next to Crane. She considers a moment, then pulls her datapad, wondering if Crane will recognize the armor of Thorn's attacker. Unlikely, if they truly number in the billions... but it can't hurt to try, she reminds herself.
Crane nods. "Well... we're tenacious, we have that reputation, at least. But sometimes things go wrong, and if the hunter spends too long trying to catch their quarry, they'll eat the failure. We have a lot better things to do than spend months looking for one welcher, or whomever irritated a Hutt. The gal-west Unknown Regions are... not very pleasant places."
Freyja finds her journal entry, then looks up at Crane, "So... do you know any Mandalorians with this sort of armor?" She describes the distinctive armor with its red highlights, then gives the woman an inquiring look. She adds quietly, "He isn't hard to find, unfortunately. The 'target,' I mean."
Crane considers for a moment. "A lot, actually. Red is popular with the Phoenixes, but others wear that color, too. At the same time, not a lot of Phoenixes work in Hutt Space. How long has he been hunted, and for what reason? We tend to be a bit more ruthless and tenacious when hunting genuine malefactors, but don't tell anyone that -- it's supposed to be a secret!"
Freyja smiles, although it's not very humorous to her. She suspects Thorn won't be going anywhere he doesn't want to -- alive, at least. She likes and respects the man; she doesn't want to see that happen to him. "He's been hunted... not for very long, I think. I think the first attack was the one I was there for. All the bounty hunter would say is there was a bounty for dead or alive on him." Quietly she adds, "He left, that time. I'm glad he did -- but I don't particularly care to see him succeed either, to be honest."
She looks gravely at the Mandalorian walking with her, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be unkind... but I think Captain Thorn is a good man, and doesn't deserve this." She sighs, adding, "At the same time, it's passingly strange to feel empathy with someone aiming a Wookiee bowcaster at you..."
"Well, for what it's worth, it sounds like it's something to do with some inter-Hutt squabble. If he evades the hunter for a little while, we tend to go to our employer, tell him he's not paying us enough to try and swat flies for him, and move on to more lucrative contracts. Hutts tend to eat their pride at that point. They know we're really good but they also know that at some point we cut our losses. We're trying to provide for twenty billion dependants, after all. A drop in the galactic bucket, but they're important to us. I know that sounds like a cold way of looking at it, but speaking from experience, if your friend evaded the first attack and one or two more, he should be fine."
Freyja says softly, "Neh, I do not think it is some inter-Hutt squabble. He saw something he should not have... he saw a ship of Balmorran droids being illegally shipped to the Empire. That is someone's life and reputation on the line... and I fear it is someone very highly placed in the Republic." Her eyes are quiet and tired as she speaks... she very much hopes Thorn has managed to keep himself safe.
Crane is quiet for a moment. "You know... we keep hearing about some oddball contracts being offered to us in the gal-east Core and Colonial regions. Another Crane told me about some weird things going on in Balmorra Sector." She thinks, then nods a little. "The General and the colonels don't like to talk about it much, but they're seriously concerned about some of the more hidden events going on in this war. There's been some talk... tell you what, let me have his name and I'll get Colonel Sen to look into that contract. If that's why this fellow's being hunted, a conveniently inconvenient 'disintegration' might be better than bringing him in to whomever alive, if you catch my meaning."
Freyja looks up with slow hope, "Could you do that? Could -- and could you share what you know of the 'hidden events' or the 'oddball contracts'? We've been trying to figure it out too. It's... quite frustrating... it feels like even the Force is unhappy and hurting, if that makes sense?"
Crane smiles. "I'll try to. He might not like being 'killed,' but he sounds very much worth keeping alive. It wouldn't be the first time we did it." But she does not elaborate on that. "I can't comment on the Force -- even though we were originally Konotori, we've not maintained any Force tradition -- and I don't think we know much more than you do. We aren't trusted with anonymous assassinations -- we're just too distinctive -- but we've been hired for bodyguard work more and more for some unusual people. More than that I really can't say, except that this is the first time Sector Cabinet officials have been apparently able to afford hiring us. I heard a rumor, too, that the General was in negotiations with someone in the Republic to hire a stryke of us. That's about fifteen Mandalorians, give or take some support troops, plus an assault ship. That is a lot of money."
Freyja turns a paler shade of gold than usual as she murmurs, "Let's hope it's for the Alderaanian royal family... and not for... particular senators."
Crane deadpans, "I'm afraid not. The Royal House wouldn't need a combat stryke, just more bodyguards, and they're hired on an individual basis."
Freyja just nods silently, still thinking and trying to put all the strange, misshapen pieces together. A moment later she says gravely, "The bounty is on Captain Thorn Falk of the ship Rapier, currently out of Tynnea. I do not know who posted the bounty -- the Mandalorian would not say, of course -- but I've already mentioned my fears to you as to the probable cause. Would it be possible to find out anything from yourself or Colonel Raven concerning the 'oddball contracts'?"
Crane brushes her hands after setting the crate down. "No, whomever wants that stryke is planning some sort of attack on something, somewhere deep and important and very well-protected." She nods. "Thorn Falk of the Rapier.. I'll talk with Colonel Sen." She purses her lips. "It... might be hard to do that. We usually have a policy of client confidentiality. But again, I'll mention it to Sen and see if he can't get some sort of authorization."
Freyja murmurs softly, "Thank you. We would greatly appreciate that." She muses silently on the phrase 'conveniently inconvenient disintegration.' Could that be what happened to the supposed attacker of the Count Mis Thullakazhan in Balmorra, that the Mandalorian so thoroughly pulped? She'd assumed it was to prevent identification of someone important... but could it have been to prevent the Count from finding out his intended victim had escaped?
The two work quietly together for some time, shifting crates as needed and chatting as they do so, amicably getting to know each other as much as they are helping with the incipient move. Freyja's more than willing to share information, after all, when it could potentially help them both make things better in the Republic. She mentions many of her discoveries and suspicions to the Mandalorian woman, and asks many questions herself also.
Freyja says, "So do you know anything about the intended stryke force? I mean... well, like if it's going into the Empire, or something?"
Crane shakes her head. "Nothing about it at all, I'm afraid. Rumor has it the Phoenix is handling that contract, so I wouldn't know anything about it." She smiles brightly, "And besides -- no offense, Freyja -- but if I did I wouldn't be allowed to tell anyone. All I do know, though, is that it actually probably is going into the Empire. Something about what the Korosians found there."
Freyja gives Crane a bemused look, "Ah... all right. I thought you just said a moment ago that you might be able to share information like that. Should I not ask?"
"I can share some of it, and gladly, but I just can't share what I don't know. Don't worry, Freyja. On the military side of things they don't tell us what we don't need to know. So ask away! If I really don't know something or can't tell, I'll say so. I won't be offended." She grins. "Or think you're some kind of spy."
Freyja nods with a touch of relief... then grins a bit bemusedly again, "Well... I don't know what you consider a spy, so I can't really comment on that. However..." She considers which of the billions of questions she has might be answerable by Crane. "Well... is there any useful information about the 'oddball contracts' you can give? I'm still struggling with several of the seemingly contradictory things which are coming out of Balmorra Sector. I'd be grateful for anything you could tell me that might shed some light on that."
Crane nods. "Well, you've noticed all the bodyguards going around, I'm sure. That's a little atypical. But some of us have been hired to ride herd on small, unnamed shipments within the last year or so. Sometimes the shipments are headed gal-east, sometimes towards the core worlds. I haven't heard just where the pickups and drop-offs have been; that's supposed to be secret as per the contracts. But it's not often we're hired to be shepherds.
She considers for a moment. "There was one my clan brother was hired for to a gal-southeast Republic client state. He left for it about four months ago. It was a consultation -- he's a strategist and I guess whomever hired him wanted some advice, and maybe his help in working on that advice. That is something we aren't often called upon to do, either."
Freyja considers for a moment, then sighs, "Oh, dear... I hope it's not the crazed relative of a friend of mine doing something really asinine, for past misdeeds of people long dead." She frowns, realizing in some ways things are now worse for her, with this information... it's just enough to worry her more, and not enough to make any clear conclusions.
"Really? Well, don't worry, then. My clan brother isn't an idiot. If something looks stupid, he'll say so and walk away."
Freyja shakes her head a little morosely, "From what I've read, the insanely touched often sound the most reasonable -- as long as you stay within the realm of their delusion." She sighs softly again, then says slowly, "Well... let's see. If I wanted to find out if some of my suspicions are correct, Ges, like if the shepherding was for the Republic droid shipments to the Empire... could I ask you to find that out? Could you either confirm or deny?"
"Like I said, my clan brother is very good. He's a strategist." The Mandalorian says it with some pride. "He knows when a plan is too unsound to work." To Freyja's other question she replies, "Hmm... that I can look into, certainly. It might take a while, but if it's related to that friend of yours you wanted me to talk with Colonel Raven about -- certainly, I can do that."
Freyja doesn't bother mentioning that it's a plan that might work that most worries her. Just because a conquest is successful doesn't mean the populace are happy afterwards, after all. Instead she simply closes her eyes for a moment and silently hopes to the Force the aunt was firmly told her desires were not feasible with the resources she had to hand... and that the aunt is not then so insane as to appeal next to the Sith. Then she nods quietly to Crane, "That would be nice... although if there's any worries about confidentiality, I'll tell you quite frankly I'd rather know the Mandalorians weren't helping with any such shipments, instead of knowing for sure that they had been... if that makes sense?"
Crane considers for a moment, then nods. "I think I understand. I'll add that to what I can ask the Colonel to find out."
Freyja sighs quietly and nods once again as she's helping move things, "Thank you. I'm sorry to be such a worrywart... but... well, right now I am, I guess... considering the circumstances."
"It's all right, Freyja. It's troubling times. If someone wasn't worried about things, that would be a concern. But so long as we don't let worry consume us, we can deal with things as need be."
Freyja smiles a bit ruefully at the other woman, "True." She's silent for a bit as they work, then asks another quiet question, "Are all Mandalorians mostly humanoid? I mean... how do you decide who farms and who's military? Do your farmers do routine interstellar trade with anyone?"
Crane chuckles a little. "Well, I'd say ninety percent of us are humanoid -- Human or near-Human. But 'near-Human' in this case just means we all look alike in our armor. A fun thing to try sometime: if you see a bunch of Mandalorians, try counting the number of fingers on their gloves. I almost guarantee that one out of three will not have five fingers!
"As for who decides who farms and who's military... well, that's hard. We're all given basic militia training -- a holdover from our past when Mandalore was raided a lot. There are still some... troubles with our neighbors, so we keep up that training. There are actually a lot of Mandalorian warriors who don't come to the Republic for work. There's a fairly stringent full-spectrum testing program to determine which volunteers get into the... I guess you could call us the 'external forces.'
"As for trade... there's some. But it's a fairly poor region out there, and there's a lot of competition. We try to trade with our neighbors, but shipping's more common in between our worlds."
Freyja blinks, startled to hear Mandalore has neighborhood-trouble still... she'd thought that was pretty much cleared out, at least in the Republic and its environs. "Don't you have any good space lanes into the Republic, that'd make it easier to trade with them?"
Crane is quiet for a moment, considering. "We're... a little wary of opening more trade with the Republic. Aside from the sheer distance to the Republic's borders, we'd really rather the Order doesn't know where we are. They'd invariably send someone, and eventually they'd find out where we came from."
Freyja says, "Oh." She pauses, realizing that's quite true -- she knows she'd be fascinatedly curious if she knew -- then says softly, "I'm sorry... I wasn't thinking." A moment later she pauses again as another thought hits her, "Wait... what does that matter -- if the Order sends someone?"
"Hmm? Oh, no need to be sorry. It really isn't obvious. If we were just another world then joining the Republic or opening relations, despite the distance, would be fine. It's just... well, if the Order sends someone they'd find out we're descended from Konotori sentinels."
Freyja looks a little puzzled, "Hai. So? It's not like you're all Kono now, right?"
"No, but the Order has a long memory, a memory that it guards rather jealously. Right now the Kono are a myth, a legend. Not that the Order would do anything horrible, but I think my people want to keep the past in the distant past."
Freyja nods slowly, "I see... I think. That would explain their... paranoia about the Sith." She considers, then grins and curiously asks, "All right, I admit I'm a merchant prince's daughter... what do you export, if I may ask?"
Crane smiles widely. "Well, let's see. Mandalore does have some minimal gemstone deposits. They're very hard to get to, and the veins of exotic ore confuse droids, so we have to delve manually and in person -- those ores are also pretty valuable, too. The gem divers claim that makes them all the more beautiful, and frankly I have to agree. We trade some luxury foodstuffs -- each world can support itself agriculturally, at least, if just barely. The biggest thing we trade between our worlds is information and heavy machinery. There's always a need for industrial goods somewhere. Usually we run a machine to the ground, ship it to another world to refurbish it, and then ship it back. A little expensive.. but our worlds are really very poor."
Freyja considers a bit, then says slowly, "Have you considered trading the gemstones and ores through an intermediary, for industrial droids and repair droids?"
Crane considers for a moment. "I'm not sure, to be honest. When we finally got on our feet again a couple thousand years ago, the idea might have come up... but hyperspace travel was hideously slow back then. I'll be honest, Freyja, I don't know. It might be a good idea, though. I know there's a couple of metallic ores they won't be willing to part with, but the gem divers might like a wider market, if it's appreciated how hard it is to gather the gemstones." She smiles a bit. "My father was a gem diver; that's why I'm so big on the appreciation of their value, is all."
Freyja smiles, "Well, I know some droids need gemstones in them, and I know Balmorra makes a lot of droids, and I know Balmorra trades with Alderaan, which is heavy into luxury items... like unique, specialized gemstones." She grins, "So if you guys are interested, feel free to try tapping the Balmorran market... and if you want discretion instead, I bet my parents'd be thrilled to make contact with one of your folks?"
Crane nods. "I'll pass it on to my father. It'll probably have to get approved -- we can be a bit paranoid -- but if he thinks it's a good idea, it just might happen." She smiles. "Thank you! It just might work."
Freyja grins happily, "Glad to help! I always like the win-win trading situations." As she speaks, the odd thought occurs to Freyja... how is it Khoud is missing all these droid shipments to the Empire? The logical response would be that he isn't... which would imply he is letting them through -- which would mean he saw selling Republic droids to the Empire as a good thing! As a Jedi "Oather," that's inconceivable... which makes Freyja wonder... could the Empire-bound droids have something in them which would make them suddenly lethal to the Empire? ...and if so... what?
Freyja blinks at that thought, then shelves it for later. Instead she simply says, "So is that why you're all so careful to not talk about Mandalore -- in order to keep it secret?"
Crane nods. "Pretty much. I suppose at this point it's not much of a secret that we're not really capable of fighting off a serious invasion. We've held off this long mainly because all our neighbors are as poor as we are; we're still having tensions because, just like us, they've gone to great lengths to train up impressive militaries. None of us may be very strong technologically, but we all know we're all very, very capable." She sighs. "It's a bit of a balance of power, but it works. Of course, the Republic with its armies of droids, heavy destroyers, and Jedi would have no trouble 'enforcing a peace' if they were economically inclined. It's just easier and less of a problem to not give the Republic any ideas."
Freyja sighs quietly, sitting on a crate for a moment to give them both a breather, and murmurs, "That's just... sad." She rests her chin in her hands, adding, "The Order -- the Republic -- we're supposed to be the good guys, you know?" She sighs again, murmuring almost to herself, "What happened...?"
Crane makes a small sound. "You are the good guys. You're a damnsight better than the Sith, from all reports. If it came down to it, I'd rather we were made a protectorate of the Republic than a territory of the Empire. But that's the thing. We don't want to be either one. Maybe someday, maybe even someday soon, we'll be convinced that the Order won't hold a grudge and the Republic, in its hunger for new markets, won't gobble us up."
Freyja rolls her eyes upwards, without moving her head, to thoughtfully regard the Mandalorian for a moment. Finally she smiles ruefully, "Eeeyh, I just want to change the universe overnight." She rises, taking her end of the crate, and deliberately changes the subject slightly, "So... why birds as clan names? Are you all color-coded by birds, through your armor? Why so much armor? What does it all do?"
Crane smiles warmly. "We all do, each in our own way. Some of us in bigger ways than others. But you never change the big things unless you try to change the big things."
She picks up her end of the crate. "Well, there were five clans in the Kono: Raven, Owl, Crane, Phoenix, and Osprey. When the sentinels settled on Mandalore, we kept that clan system, and eventually that mapped over the military somewhat. The armor... well, usually the colors match the clan, but there's no requirement. A lot of us who go on contracts into the Republic customize the armor. Since we don't use battledroids and usually work alone, the armor has to protect us really well and provide a lot of services and functions that a typical soldier could rely on droids or specialists in his unit for."
Freyja paces along, holding her end of the crate and musing, "Huh... why birds for the Kono, I wonder...?" A moment later she curiously asks, "Hey, I just had a thought! Do you take the 'conveniently vaporized' to Mandalore?"
"I'm not sure, really. The Kono had been around for a few thousand years themselves, there was probably a really good reason for it at some point..." Crane grins. "Sometimes. The ones who might need to go back to the Republic for whatever reason, though, like the Silver Path, we keep them safe on the frontiers of our space. They never quite get close to Mandalore, but by the same token they're not anywhere close to our 'neighbors.'"
Freyja says, "Oh." She thinks for a bit, then says a little wistfully, "So... if I ever want to see my friend again, we ha- oh, wait... even if we clear his name, his appearing would let folks know he hadn't been killed, right?" She's silent a moment, putting down the crate where directed, then asks quietly, "Does that mean we can't ever see him again?"
"Well, that depends. We don't advertise what we do. If what you were saying about this thing with the droid shipments is right, then he's going to have to go back to prove what he knows. We might end up losing some of our famed utter neutrality. But if we do that for him then they've already decided that's a risk we'll have to take."
Freyja nods slowly, then says, "I admit, I'm a bit relieved to hear that... we have a recording of him talking about it, but... well, in person is far more believable, you know?" She grins a little shyly at the Mandalorian, "Thanks."
Crane nods, grinning. "You're welcome. Like I said, though, I can't promise anything more than bringing it to the Colonel's attention."
Freyja nods, still smiling, and cheerfully continues to help move crates. Some time later she says, "Hey, Ges... is there anything you folks have that will allow someone to walk up to a Mandalorian and ask to talk to one of you? Er... that was really convoluted..." She pauses, trying to figure out how to clarify her comment.
"You mean sort of like a grip or gesture or something?"
Freyja says, "Uh... hai." She sounds a bit puzzled as she adds, "Or... a phrase, maybe? Do you have anything like that, for emergencies?"
Crane chews her lip a little. "Well, there's certain phrases and pass codes we use to authenticate communications, but a lot of them are so complex we need to embed them in electronics. Still... that's another thing I'll ask Colonel Raven for -- if there's anything we can pass on to you four, in case you need to get a hold of us."
Freyja smiles cheerfully, "All right! Thank you, Ges." She grins, adding a little sheepishly, "Uhh... so, I've certainly monopolized this conversation. Do you have any questions?"
Crane thinks for a moment. "Well, the one question I'm curious about is how you came to be here involved with the Silver Path...." Freyja grins and cheerfully tells the story. She won't break her oath of silence, or the Order's Seal, but short of that she's quite willing to tell Ges anything she asks about what's happening since Marnaas. As she notes to the Mandalorian, comparing notes from different perspectives might help them both understand better the mysteries they're facing.
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