How Long? PG-13
Title: How Long?
author: helgaleena
helgaleenas@yahoo.com
fandom: Star Wars Clone Wars
pairing: none, char's: Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, Quinlan Vos, Agen Kolar, Kh'aris Fenn, Dooku
category: adventure gen
rating: PG-13 for violence
wordcount: 1683
disclaimer: Lucas, Ostrander, and Duursema own everything; I am nothing
summary: It took less than ten minutes to judge Kh'ariss Fenn, as well as carry out the sentence. Based on Dark Horse Star Wars Republic: Show of Force.
prompt: horology
The four Jedi Masters-- Agen Kolar, Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin and Mace Windu-- had, at great cost, obtained the name from the Bounty Hunters Guild, of the party responsible for offering a bounty on Jedi. It was Kh'aris Fenn, heir of clan Fenn of the planet Ryloth. His father having recently been sent to the Bright Lands along with the rest of the Ruling Council, they anticipated some resistance to his arrest.
When they came to apprehend him, they were shown a holographic record of his death. It was no forgery. The time and date were prominently displayed in one corner of the holoscreen. The spy-cam which had made the recording caught every detail, as it followed a dark-cloaked humanoid into a silent cavern-- the same one in which they now stood, surrounded by clan Fenn.
In the recording, the dark-cloaked figure was alone, except for one other. There, in a padded hoverchair, Kh'aris Fenn was contacting various underlings. He was easily recognizable to the four Jedi, who had studied files on him in connection with another matter. This was the same ambitious Twi'lek who had engineered the massacre of rival clan Secura, and hired the Morugkai Nikto to dispose of the surviving heir, who was under the protection of their fellow Master Tholme. Generous, greenish-white lekku curled smoothly round a well-muscled neck, beneath the leather helmet and earphones that framed his dissolutely handsome face.
Between communications he was dipping one long-taloned finger into a dish of multicolored granules and then licking them up; they had stained his tongue a variety of hues. Near his hoverchair rested a shuttle-yacht, fully capable of hyperspace travel. Fenn evidently liked to have an escape handy at all times. If taken into custody by the Republic, this was not the worst crime for which he stood accused. He was also a known slaver and supplier of the proscribed substance glitteryll. Many obvious victims of his personal proclivities could not indict him, because of having undergone mind-wipes with that substance-- including Jedi.
The underworld mastermind was alone, but for the camera and the person in the cloak. He noticed the approach of the cloaked figure, still in the foreground of the recording, and absently gestured at him or her, addressing them in Twi'lek. Upon receiving no answer, he looked more closely, squinting his large golden eyes. He switched to Basic. "You're not Ummru." A hand slowly crept toward his chair's control arm, presumably to alert security.
The figure spoke. "I bring a message from Count Dooku." Agen Kolar, the youngest of the watching Masters, drew in a hissing breath. He knew that voice--- they all did.
One of the cloaked figure's hands deployed a hovering holoscreen and activated it. Kh'aris Fenn straightened to attention, as if to a superior, as a large and imposing visual of Taras Dooku appeared and focused its gaze upon the younger Twi'lek.
"Your honor-- there has been a temporary setback in our plans to make my bid for chief Elder--"
"I know, Fenn," answered the gigantic, silver-bearded holo of the Separatist leader. "You have been hunting Jedi with the money I gave you for the Ryloth campaign."
"Surely killing Jedi is to our mutual advantage?" The Twi'lek grinned, revealing impressive fangs, and tented his taloned fingers before him. But the image of Dooku scowled, his huge dark eyes sparking.
"That was to be dealt with on the Outer Rim, not piecemeal. No, Kh'aris Fenn. Not only have you stolen from the Confederacy, you have needlessly duplicated my anti-Jedi operations and destroyed my plans for Ryloth. An example will be made of you."
Abruptly the image of Dooku vanished, leaving the open-mouthed Fenn staring at nothing. After a few seconds, during which he seemed to be struggling to breathe, he turned to the cloaked figure in entreaty.
"Tell the count--- beg him--"
"No."
The figure threw back its hood, revealing a thick mass of sooty black locks to its shoulders. Fenn was obviously terrified of this person. The Jedi viewers of the recording had a similar sinking feeling to the one displayed upon the face of Kh'aris Fenn. His pale mouth worked soundlessly, then managed to form a word. "You."
"That's right, Fenn. Remember me? You tried to kill my master. And then my padawan. And now I get to kill you. Because I work for Dooku now. And unlike you, I'm an obedient servant."
While speaking these words, the renegade Jedi, Quinlan Vos, had taken the final steps toward the hover-chair, though the camera remained where it was, in the cavern entryway. Kh'aris Fenn leaped up, holdout blaster in hand, on his way to the waiting shuttle, even managed to squeeze off one wild shot, but in the same second ( actually two seconds, by the record in the corner of the holoscreen) a deep red lightsaber was ignited and deployed. And in the next second, the red blade was still again, and the blaster, as well as the arm holding it, lay on the cavern floor.
Fenn stood stock still, his eyes upon that red blade, clutching the place his arm had been, lekku twitching as if scalded, hissing in pain. That blade held the eyes of the viewers, too; this was significant. The Jedi Quinlan Vos had used a green sabre. Had he truly fallen, joined the Sith?
Vos was approaching his immobilized quarry. He switched off the blade, and clapped an almost friendly hand on the Twi'lek's shoulder, holding him upright. "You can resist some more if you want," he remarked, conversationally, as Fenn visibly shook.
His dark craggy profile, with the distinctive tattooed stripe, was visible to the camera now. He was--smiling! The watching Jedi were reminded of a feline enjoying the terror of its prey, allowing it to run from paw to paw before dispatching it. "I don't care whether you do or not. And I don't care who you are, either. You're just a punk who thought he could outsmart a Dark Lord, and that means you're a fool."
Keeping one vise-like hand on the victim's cringing shoulder, he casually aimed the unlit sabre at the man's half-armor of plasteel and leather. "Who deserves to die." And his thumb hit the ignition button.
Instantly the red beam projected out of the Twi'lek's back, and his head flopped to the side, yellow eyes blank and empty. Kit Fisto turned away as Vos freed his blade, caught the corpse by the lekku, and removed its head. It took less than three seconds. As Vos pulled out an empty bag and matter-of-factly stuffed the head into it, Mace Windu shut his eyes; Saeesee Tiin could not help letting out a growl of outrage.
A mere thirty seconds later, Vos turned to the spy-cam with his grisly souvenir, his face carefully deadpan. "This holovid I leave for others, as a testament and a warning, of the fate of those who betray Count Dooku and the Confederacy. Do what you like with the rest of him. I have what I need." His eyes were in shadow as he passed the spy-cam, which remained fixed upon the cavern as he exited, focusing on the empty holo-chair.
The entire recording was less than ten minutes in length. Kit Fisto reached up and switched it off, then turned to address the others, as clan Fenn dispersed. "This holo is only two days old. The very same day that we received Fenn's name from the Guild, he was already dead. I don't like it."
"I'll tell you what I don't like; I don't like the one doing Dooku's bidding. Deliberate cruelty. He's truly fallen to the Darkness," said Master Tiin. His characteristc solemnity was now a glower of disgust that bared his teeth.
Master Windu was silent. It was not common knowledge that Quinlan Vos had been supposed to fall, on a mission to infiltrate Dooku's inner circles. How long had it been since Vos had approached him and spy-master Tholme with this plan? Seventeen months since Geonosis. That made it only sixteen months, Coruscant scale. Less than two tens, and Quinlan Vos was playing the part much too well.
The younger man's words, from their classified briefing, echoed in his head--" I have seen the suffering this war has brought to ordinary beings. If there is anything I can to do shorten it-- anything at all- I will do it." But this? smile and deliberately kill an unarmed being? Even a criminal deserved better.
Agen Kolar was speaking, echoing his thought. "He should have been tried. He should have had justice. We do not want our enemies to give us this kind of assistance." The young Zabrak's eyes were like glinting steel spheres in his smooth leathery face.
"Still, what's done is done," said Master Fisto, with a shake of his head-tentacles. "His clan has come and removed the body, and maintain this recording out of fear. Friends, we have no more to do but to file our reports. Why so silent, Mace?"
Master Windu turned his dark head sharply, as if returning to his body from a long distance, before answering. " I am troubled by this turn of events. We have learned from Dooku's own lips that the Jedi are being specifically targeted by the Separatists. It is not just this isolated scheme by an individual, but an ideological campaign, on every front. We grow fewer too quickly. How long can we continue to defend the Republic, if we are exterminated? How long would that take? Two years? Ten?
"It was disheartening to see our former brother doing the work of an enemy. And Quinlan Vos and his new master are not the only ones to desert us. The will of the Force is not clear, to them or to us. I must meditate deeply on this."
That was the thought at the forefront of the minds of all the Masters, as they turned to go. How long would this war grind apart the galaxy, and the Jedi who sought to cushion its blows? How long, and would any of them survive?
end
author: helgaleena
helgaleenas@yahoo.com
fandom: Star Wars Clone Wars
pairing: none, char's: Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, Quinlan Vos, Agen Kolar, Kh'aris Fenn, Dooku
category: adventure gen
rating: PG-13 for violence
wordcount: 1683
disclaimer: Lucas, Ostrander, and Duursema own everything; I am nothing
summary: It took less than ten minutes to judge Kh'ariss Fenn, as well as carry out the sentence. Based on Dark Horse Star Wars Republic: Show of Force.
prompt: horology
The four Jedi Masters-- Agen Kolar, Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin and Mace Windu-- had, at great cost, obtained the name from the Bounty Hunters Guild, of the party responsible for offering a bounty on Jedi. It was Kh'aris Fenn, heir of clan Fenn of the planet Ryloth. His father having recently been sent to the Bright Lands along with the rest of the Ruling Council, they anticipated some resistance to his arrest.
When they came to apprehend him, they were shown a holographic record of his death. It was no forgery. The time and date were prominently displayed in one corner of the holoscreen. The spy-cam which had made the recording caught every detail, as it followed a dark-cloaked humanoid into a silent cavern-- the same one in which they now stood, surrounded by clan Fenn.
In the recording, the dark-cloaked figure was alone, except for one other. There, in a padded hoverchair, Kh'aris Fenn was contacting various underlings. He was easily recognizable to the four Jedi, who had studied files on him in connection with another matter. This was the same ambitious Twi'lek who had engineered the massacre of rival clan Secura, and hired the Morugkai Nikto to dispose of the surviving heir, who was under the protection of their fellow Master Tholme. Generous, greenish-white lekku curled smoothly round a well-muscled neck, beneath the leather helmet and earphones that framed his dissolutely handsome face.
Between communications he was dipping one long-taloned finger into a dish of multicolored granules and then licking them up; they had stained his tongue a variety of hues. Near his hoverchair rested a shuttle-yacht, fully capable of hyperspace travel. Fenn evidently liked to have an escape handy at all times. If taken into custody by the Republic, this was not the worst crime for which he stood accused. He was also a known slaver and supplier of the proscribed substance glitteryll. Many obvious victims of his personal proclivities could not indict him, because of having undergone mind-wipes with that substance-- including Jedi.
The underworld mastermind was alone, but for the camera and the person in the cloak. He noticed the approach of the cloaked figure, still in the foreground of the recording, and absently gestured at him or her, addressing them in Twi'lek. Upon receiving no answer, he looked more closely, squinting his large golden eyes. He switched to Basic. "You're not Ummru." A hand slowly crept toward his chair's control arm, presumably to alert security.
The figure spoke. "I bring a message from Count Dooku." Agen Kolar, the youngest of the watching Masters, drew in a hissing breath. He knew that voice--- they all did.
One of the cloaked figure's hands deployed a hovering holoscreen and activated it. Kh'aris Fenn straightened to attention, as if to a superior, as a large and imposing visual of Taras Dooku appeared and focused its gaze upon the younger Twi'lek.
"Your honor-- there has been a temporary setback in our plans to make my bid for chief Elder--"
"I know, Fenn," answered the gigantic, silver-bearded holo of the Separatist leader. "You have been hunting Jedi with the money I gave you for the Ryloth campaign."
"Surely killing Jedi is to our mutual advantage?" The Twi'lek grinned, revealing impressive fangs, and tented his taloned fingers before him. But the image of Dooku scowled, his huge dark eyes sparking.
"That was to be dealt with on the Outer Rim, not piecemeal. No, Kh'aris Fenn. Not only have you stolen from the Confederacy, you have needlessly duplicated my anti-Jedi operations and destroyed my plans for Ryloth. An example will be made of you."
Abruptly the image of Dooku vanished, leaving the open-mouthed Fenn staring at nothing. After a few seconds, during which he seemed to be struggling to breathe, he turned to the cloaked figure in entreaty.
"Tell the count--- beg him--"
"No."
The figure threw back its hood, revealing a thick mass of sooty black locks to its shoulders. Fenn was obviously terrified of this person. The Jedi viewers of the recording had a similar sinking feeling to the one displayed upon the face of Kh'aris Fenn. His pale mouth worked soundlessly, then managed to form a word. "You."
"That's right, Fenn. Remember me? You tried to kill my master. And then my padawan. And now I get to kill you. Because I work for Dooku now. And unlike you, I'm an obedient servant."
While speaking these words, the renegade Jedi, Quinlan Vos, had taken the final steps toward the hover-chair, though the camera remained where it was, in the cavern entryway. Kh'aris Fenn leaped up, holdout blaster in hand, on his way to the waiting shuttle, even managed to squeeze off one wild shot, but in the same second ( actually two seconds, by the record in the corner of the holoscreen) a deep red lightsaber was ignited and deployed. And in the next second, the red blade was still again, and the blaster, as well as the arm holding it, lay on the cavern floor.
Fenn stood stock still, his eyes upon that red blade, clutching the place his arm had been, lekku twitching as if scalded, hissing in pain. That blade held the eyes of the viewers, too; this was significant. The Jedi Quinlan Vos had used a green sabre. Had he truly fallen, joined the Sith?
Vos was approaching his immobilized quarry. He switched off the blade, and clapped an almost friendly hand on the Twi'lek's shoulder, holding him upright. "You can resist some more if you want," he remarked, conversationally, as Fenn visibly shook.
His dark craggy profile, with the distinctive tattooed stripe, was visible to the camera now. He was--smiling! The watching Jedi were reminded of a feline enjoying the terror of its prey, allowing it to run from paw to paw before dispatching it. "I don't care whether you do or not. And I don't care who you are, either. You're just a punk who thought he could outsmart a Dark Lord, and that means you're a fool."
Keeping one vise-like hand on the victim's cringing shoulder, he casually aimed the unlit sabre at the man's half-armor of plasteel and leather. "Who deserves to die." And his thumb hit the ignition button.
Instantly the red beam projected out of the Twi'lek's back, and his head flopped to the side, yellow eyes blank and empty. Kit Fisto turned away as Vos freed his blade, caught the corpse by the lekku, and removed its head. It took less than three seconds. As Vos pulled out an empty bag and matter-of-factly stuffed the head into it, Mace Windu shut his eyes; Saeesee Tiin could not help letting out a growl of outrage.
A mere thirty seconds later, Vos turned to the spy-cam with his grisly souvenir, his face carefully deadpan. "This holovid I leave for others, as a testament and a warning, of the fate of those who betray Count Dooku and the Confederacy. Do what you like with the rest of him. I have what I need." His eyes were in shadow as he passed the spy-cam, which remained fixed upon the cavern as he exited, focusing on the empty holo-chair.
The entire recording was less than ten minutes in length. Kit Fisto reached up and switched it off, then turned to address the others, as clan Fenn dispersed. "This holo is only two days old. The very same day that we received Fenn's name from the Guild, he was already dead. I don't like it."
"I'll tell you what I don't like; I don't like the one doing Dooku's bidding. Deliberate cruelty. He's truly fallen to the Darkness," said Master Tiin. His characteristc solemnity was now a glower of disgust that bared his teeth.
Master Windu was silent. It was not common knowledge that Quinlan Vos had been supposed to fall, on a mission to infiltrate Dooku's inner circles. How long had it been since Vos had approached him and spy-master Tholme with this plan? Seventeen months since Geonosis. That made it only sixteen months, Coruscant scale. Less than two tens, and Quinlan Vos was playing the part much too well.
The younger man's words, from their classified briefing, echoed in his head--" I have seen the suffering this war has brought to ordinary beings. If there is anything I can to do shorten it-- anything at all- I will do it." But this? smile and deliberately kill an unarmed being? Even a criminal deserved better.
Agen Kolar was speaking, echoing his thought. "He should have been tried. He should have had justice. We do not want our enemies to give us this kind of assistance." The young Zabrak's eyes were like glinting steel spheres in his smooth leathery face.
"Still, what's done is done," said Master Fisto, with a shake of his head-tentacles. "His clan has come and removed the body, and maintain this recording out of fear. Friends, we have no more to do but to file our reports. Why so silent, Mace?"
Master Windu turned his dark head sharply, as if returning to his body from a long distance, before answering. " I am troubled by this turn of events. We have learned from Dooku's own lips that the Jedi are being specifically targeted by the Separatists. It is not just this isolated scheme by an individual, but an ideological campaign, on every front. We grow fewer too quickly. How long can we continue to defend the Republic, if we are exterminated? How long would that take? Two years? Ten?
"It was disheartening to see our former brother doing the work of an enemy. And Quinlan Vos and his new master are not the only ones to desert us. The will of the Force is not clear, to them or to us. I must meditate deeply on this."
That was the thought at the forefront of the minds of all the Masters, as they turned to go. How long would this war grind apart the galaxy, and the Jedi who sought to cushion its blows? How long, and would any of them survive?
end