Chương 28: Interlude: Jocasta Nu

The Three Pillars of the Jedi – Force, Knowledge, and Self-Discipline – encompass all we do as Jedi and reinforce the precepts of the Jedi Code. -Morrit Ch'Gally, Jedi Recruiter ~*~*~*~ 58 BBY – 941 ARR – Coruscant Jocasta woke to the smell of caf wafting through the door to her room as her apprentice shuffled through their small apartment's kitchenette. With a huff she rose from her comfortable bed, internally grumbling about the work she knew she had today.

Forgoing her Ansata robes, as she knew she would be doing light physical activity this morning, she dressed quickly and exited her room. Rann was already seated at their living/dining room's low table, the faint glow of a datapad coloring his face. He looked up at her and smiled, gesturing to the cup and saucer he had placed at her spot.

"Thank you," she mumbled, taking the mug and drinking deeply to try and banish the sleep still in her system.

"Of course," he answered. They lapsed into an easy silence, sipping on their cafs, occupied with their own thoughts, until they were both finished. With a nod, they both stood and made their way to the door out of their apartment. Even on the walk to the Room of a Thousand Gardens, they didn't bother speaking. After some sparse words and grunts to determine which garden they would use, a simple rock garden modeled after those on Ossus built by Master T'alla was selected.

In truth, this garden had become their preferred location for joint meditation in the time since she had selected him as her padawan. Its simplicity and serenity, along with its connection to the Order's history, drew them both. In short order they sat down across from each other and began to meditate. She had been worried for her padawan, recently. A little over two weeks ago, he had fallen into a deeply foul mood, even refusing to meditate – and had refused to discuss why.

At first she had pushed him to share and even sought advice, but those she asked all said the same thing: ' he will share his worries in time.' After a few days, he seemed to have largely recovered from whatever it was and returned to his normal equilibrium. But even now, he had not shared what was troubling him. Was it their mission's outcome? Or the punishment they had received from the Council? Or something else entirely? She did not know, and that troubled her.

Reaching out with the Force, she could sense that he was doing much better. The foul mood which had seeped into his Force presence had dissipated, but some remained. And what was replacing it was a certain… hardness, for lack of a better term, she was not sure she appreciated. It was something she sensed in those who had seen much, perhaps too much, in their time as a Jedi. It wasn't something she was supposed to sense coming from her little padawan.

Pushing her worries to the side, she focused instead on her connection with the Force and her connection with Rann. Let the energy flow through her, flow through them. There is no emotion, there is peace. After half an hour, they rose synchronously and made their way to the Salles. Though they did not talk, this time it was the silence of contemplating the Force, not grumpiness leftover from waking up. When they arrived, there were Padawans and Knights going through their katas or sparring.

As an almost purely academic being herself, she found the smells of sweat and ozone paired with strain grunts and gasps somewhat off-putting. So too had her previous padawan, Jerec. They spent most of their time together reading, discussing what they had read, or on an excavation. Rann, though, was a different creature. Equally brilliant as Jerec – or perhaps surpassing him – he also had an intensity and energy to him that far surpassed most other beings.

The only other she had met like him was his friend, Mace, and in many ways they were part of a matched set. Both were far above their peers, both mentally and physically, and required near-constant exercise in both realms. Mace was Rann's physical superior by a noticeable margin, yet the same was true in the reverse. Normally, they pushed each other to greater heights in their pursuit of each other and ultimately, perfection. Unfortunately, they had gotten into an argument recently, as young boys are wont to do.

Rann had given her the details on this spat, and she had counseled that he apologize. In a surprising show of ego – something she rarely saw from him – he had yet to follow through on her advice despite acknowledging its validity. She had no real fears, though, they would work this through. Her padawan could be as stubborn as a gundark, but ultimately he and Mace were too close to let a squabble like this stand in the way of their friendship. It was a matter of time.

A faint cough stopped her woolgathering as she looked to her apprentice who stood ready with an unlit saber. Growing contemplative with age, are you Jocasta? She asked herself, readying her own blade. They began with an intermediate kata of Niman. While to make the rank of Master she had been required to show an adequate level of skill with each of the first six Forms, she had always preferred the sixth for its flexibility and ease of use. She was, first and foremost, an academic.

Not needing a more technical or demanding form which required long hours of intense practice to retain its skillful use, Niman was a good fit. Thus, she had been surprised when Rann requested that she guide him through Niman's katas, as she knew he preferred Shien and even Shii-Cho. His argument that it would give him a more flexible approach to the lightsaber and that he could find the time and other teachers for the other Forms was convincing enough to persuade her.

Forty minutes later, she and her padawan exited the Salles with a light sheen and made their way back to their quarters.

"In your Council of First Knowledge meeting this morning, there will be a review of the University of Coruscant's data requests." Rann strode beside her with a serious look on his face.

"Have you looked at the brief I prepared?"

"Yes, Padawan," she said, letting a hint of her exasperation creep into her voice to go with the feelings of fondness she sent in the Force.

"Good." He didn't bother to acknowledge her tone but did nudge her playfully in the Force.

"Last night, I also prepared briefs for the Reassignment's and Librarian's Assembly's meetings later this week. You also have a meeting with one of Edu's anthropologists later today-""-peace, Rann. I'm sure you have left a perfectly adequate copy of my day's schedule on my holopad." And he probably had. When she had taken him as her padawan, she hadn't expected him to do more than follow her around and ask questions.

Instead, a little over a year into his apprenticeship and he had become an excellent executive aide. It was both adorable and impressive, to see a youngling fresh from the Creches calmly explain to Masters that her schedule was not free and might they take a meeting next Zhellday?

"What are your plans for today?"

"Lots of time in the Archives," Rann said, grimacing.

"Master Vilbum was right, I don't understand enough of the Order's ancient philosophies to really make progress on making a Jedi katana. Their view on the transfer of essence though the Force is… contrary to what is taught today, Master."

"Your mandala beads are infused with your Force presence, are they not?" she asked, intrigued.

"They are," he allowed.

"But they're not deeply infused with my presence to the degree required to forge something like the ancient Order's katanas. It would take… decades, for me to infuse enough essence at the rate it's occurring. And the early Jedi clearly didn't take decades to forge their blades. I believe they had a different method, but in order to recreate it I need to understand their approach to how the Force interacts with the physical world better."

"Could it be a difference in the metals used? Perhaps they created infused metal stocks by meditating with it generationally or utilizing a Force vergence," she posed, challenging his logic.

"Maybe, but not likely," he said, shaking his head.

"The few texts we have on the matter are clear: infusing the blades was purely personal matter. No other Jedi was to utilize their essence, or it would weaken the wielder's connection with the blade. And while it's certainly possible that they utilized a vergence, it's never mentioned. One of the first things I checked was the composition of the few Jedi katanas remaining, and they have different-enough trace elements that I'm fairly certain they weren't mined from the same source.

It's kind of fascinating, if frustrating."

"It sounds like you have a preliminary publication in the making," she said, causing him to look at her with astonishment.

"Unless others have analyzed the composition of these katanas or the textual evidence, you have uncovered a piece of our people's past, Rann. Even if it's not the full picture yet, it is worth releasing to the wider Order and perhaps beyond."

"But I'm just thirteen!" He exclaimed.

"I can't expect anyone to take me seriously."

"If it is sound work backed by good data, they will certainly take you seriously," she said as they drifted leftwards in the hallway to allow a group of knights to pass.

"Besides, you could ask Astal to be your second author. He's one of the foremost authorities on the ancient history of the Order and has seen you toiling away on this project."

"I haven't even made a blade yet, or even begun recreating the process," he protested as they entered their apartment's living room.

"Again, Rann, this would be preliminary paper. What you have discovered already has merit, even if you never manage to forge a proper katana." At his speculative look, she decided to further reinforce her point.

"I expect to be made third author, you know?" The worry faded from his eyes as a small smile creeped across his face.

"You do?"

"Oh yes," she sniffed, turning her nose up in mock seriousness.

"One shouldn't forget their master's support."

"Of course not, Master Nu," her dark-haired apprentice said grandiosely with a courtly bow.

"Our elder's wisdom should always be acknowledged."

"Careful, padawan." They shared a smile before breaking off for their morning tasks. Rann prepared breakfast while she reviewed her day's schedule before turning to her least-favorite morning task: checking correspondence. Every morning and evening, she had to reply to what felt like interminable queries, requests, and other miscellanea that came with being head of the Archives, Librarian's Assembly, and the EduCorps; not to mention her seat one of the Councils.

She had yet to finish replying to the seemingly endless supply of messages by the time her padawan put food on the table, so she ate distractedly and wished her padawan well once he finished his own meal. She finally wrapped up just in time to make her way to the First Knowledge's Council chamber and have fifteen minutes to refresh herself on the issues today's meeting would concern itself with.

Beside the usual docket of hearing the three permanent members' reports, there was also due to be a report on initiate's performance from the Head Crèchemaster, Zucul. The only other major topic was one brought forward by her, the data request from the University of Coruscant. Not too strenuous as these things went. The worst were the annual budget, curriculum, and personnel meetings, all of which could last the better part of a day.

Astaal was many things, but a particularly adept chairman of the Council, he was not. She looked up as her former master, Yaddle, made her way into the room. The diminutive green Master hopped into her assigned seat with ease, curling into the too-large seat before greeting her with a wordless grunt.

"Up late, Master?" she asked leadingly.

"Know the answer, you do," grumbled the older woman as she rubbed at her face.

"Normal hours, my work keeps not." A bleary eye opened to glare at her.

"Work you turned aside. Retire, I cannot with work undone."

"I cannot do the work you do," she answered simply. She wasn't offended by her former master's sharp comments, though she might have been some ten years earlier.

"How is your padawan coming along? Will she be a good successor?"

"Bah," Yaddle waved her off with a clawed hand.

"Too early, it is. Wait you must, I have learned. Many things, my padawans have taught me." This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Well, I am glad to have imparted some lessons," she said wryly, enjoying the gimlet eye the red-headed master turned upon her.

"Enjoy your time with your own padawan, you must," said Yaddle, suddenly more alert.

"Much of his time, my work will soon take." She opened her mouth to ask for details, but interrupted herself upon seeing Astaal and the two non-permanent members of the Council walk in. Sneaky little troll, she thought, no doubt in her mind that her former Master had planned her comment to coincide with their arrival.

After a few minutes of greetings and settling in, they began their meeting with Astaal calling them to order, approving the agenda, and then launching into his typical, long-winded report as the Caretaker. This particular report was of some minor interest compared to most (at least to her) because he spent a good portion discussing Rann's budding abilities as an archival researcher before finally being hurried along by another Council member.

Her own report was exactly ten minutes, leaving a tidy five minutes for questions and entirely within her allotted time. Yaddle's was five minutes and cited classification protocols no less than seventeen times. Zucul's report, as a non-voting member who did not attend or report at every meeting, was well-done at twenty-five minutes and another thirty for questions. All relatively standard for these things. And then it came time for the scheduled agenda items.

"…Next is… let's see here," mumbled Astaal, squinting down at the flimsi in his hands.

"University of Coruscant Interdisciplinary Data Request 58-A: Frontier Demographics, Cultural Anthropology, and Outer Rim Civil Infrastructure. Goodness. Master Nu, would you like to address Council?"

"Yes, thank you Caretaker." She stood and began her outlined but largely extemporaneous explanation of the data request. Much of the data were things that had actually been passed on to the Archives through her reestablished exchanges with institutions around the galaxy, others were non-sensitive data the Jedi themselves had collected through the work of many Knights and Corps members, and some requests would prove to be contentious.

"…I believe that much of this data can be given over without concern, though I of course open the floor to discussion."

"What do you see posing problems?" asked another councilor.

"Any data coming from a field report should be scrubbed and anonymized, of course," she answered.

"Beyond that, they have requested regional data on the incidence of Force-sensitive children, which I am… wary to give. They have also requested data on a variety of local shamanic Force traditions, including the Korun."

"So you see no problems with granting them data on the famine relief efforts of the AgriCorps?" pressed the Councilor. She frowned.

"No, I don't believe so. In those sectors the AgriCorps have acquitted themselves well by all reports."

"This could affect our funding," mumbled the councilor.

"Our concern, that is not," retorted Yaddle sharply. The councilor had the good grace to look embarrassed and keep quiet as she continued.

"Concerns of my own, I have. Fragile, the peace on Harun Kaal is. Korun and the settlers, friends they are not. Kind to us, they were, and a youngling they gave us. Arm their enemies, this knowledge might." Jocasta Nu sighed and nodded her head.

"I am not unaware of this risk, and many of the other indigenous Force traditions they requested knowledge of face similar issues. I propose that a special committee of myself as Chief Librarian, Yaddle as the Shadowkeeper, and a member of the Council of Reconciliation consider this particular piece of the request, but we move forward with the other sections."

"A fair plan," floated Astaal, looking around the room warily. Politics had intruded into the Council room once again, and he was not particularly adept.

"Can this be put to a vote?" The measure was soon passed, and after deciding the next meeting's agenda, it concluded with her having more work and yet another committee. To think that I once yearned to be Chief Librarian, to hold sway over the galaxy's most formidable collection of knowledge, she mused. Now, she knew that even though the position nominally gave her the right to examine virtually every nook and cranny of the Archives, it rarely afforded her the time.

Soon she was ensconced in her office overlooking the Archives reviewing the agenda items for the weeks upcoming meetings, one for the Council of Reassignment in her role as head of the EduCorps, and another for the Council of First Learning, a standing subcouncil under First Knowledge for developing curriculum. She opened her dataterminal to see that of course her padawan had already prepared briefs for both, but decided to skim the agenda items herself. Rann was still a junior padawan, after all.

And she had a vested interest in one of the Reassignment agenda items: discussing underperforming Corps members. Underperforming Jedi were, on the whole, rather rare. From birth, Jedi were taught to value hard work and have a service ethos, constantly drilled that it was their duty to serve the galaxy. Normally it came about from overpromotion, where an individual's rank did not match their abilities. This was easily and quickly corrected in most cases, and rarely posed a larger issue.

No, the much rarer yet much more difficult cases were when one came across an… unmotivated Jedi. Unlike a business or government, the Jedi did not simply fire one of their members; they were a society, a people, in search of enlightenment through the Force. A Jedi could only stop being a Jedi if they left voluntarily, were expelled for profane crimes, or Fell. Which left her with few options when dealing with one such as Arath Tarrex, though she was hoping to be given more tools at the next meeting.

A few hours of miscellaneous office work later, she made her way to the apartment where Rann had left prepped meals in the conservator. She knew she wasn't likely to see him, as he preferred to work through lunches and eat two meals a day. I truly am lucky to have him, she thought, savoring the meal, which looked to be a Ryloth-inspired noodled dish. She hadn't asked for him to begin prepping lunches for her, nor had she expected him to be quite so good a cook.

After years of mainly eating from the refectory, his homemade meals were something she had grown to treasure. Once she was finished, she returned to her office for her next appointment. Across from her sat a rather unassuming-looking human, Jedi Anthropologist Wilmo Lot. His clothes were clean, unadorned except a reptilian leather belt, and rumbled. He held a fair amount of flimsiplasts in his hands, which he clutched tightly in his lap.

From the very moment he had stepped into his office, he had radiated a nervous energy. Her reputation, useful for cowing raucous younglings, sometimes worked against her when junior academics conversed with her.

"Please, explain your proposal to me," she said, gesturing to him broadly.

"Yes, I – ah. A funding request." The man took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes.

"I am asking for funding from the EduCorps under the Study of Exogenous Force Traditions Grant so that I can answer research questions regarding the Dagoyan Order." And then he stopped. Despite her inclinations, she did not rub her brow but instead asked in as kind a tone as she could manage, "and what are your research questions?"

"Right," said the young man, looking startled. He stared at her blankly, before looking down at the flimsi in his hands.

"I am interested in the relationship between the Dagoyan Order and the Bardottan people, which is fundamentally different from our relationship with non-Force-sensitives. They open schools and serve as part of their secular government…" She let the younger academic run out of words, which took nearly seven minutes, before asking another question.

"Have you requested permission from the Dagoyan Order, or the government of Bardotta, to conduct an ethnographic survey, or even to be on-planet?"

"What?" The rumpled man stared at her blankly for a moment.

"Shouldn't that come later?" This time she didn't resist the urge to sigh.

"Normally, yes. But you have chosen a group that is… less amenable to the Jedi than most."

"What? Why?" The man suddenly grew animated.

"We're Jedi!"

"Yes, exactly." She continued.

"We are another Force order with wildly different values, whom the Dagoyan Order feels to be ethically dubious and to have wronged them in the past. Did you not research this before bringing me your proposal?"

"Well, no. I didn't imagine that it would be a problem." She wanted to throw him out of her office. She closed her eyes instead, letting his words wash over her as she listened.

"Most everybody in the galaxy – well, the civilized parts at least – doesn't see any problems with us! They're in the Colonies, just outside the Inner Rim. I wasn't trying to propose working with the Hutts!"

"Jedi Lot," she snapped, cutting him off.

"You have yet to leave the Core, correct?"

"Well, no," he replied, unsure of where she was going.

"It is most evident from this basic oversight," she said, perhaps a tad harshly.

"You not only failed to request permission from your target demographic, you failed to research their relationship with our Order. I cannot correct the first, but perhaps I can shed some light on the latter. The Dagoyan Order, as you should know if you undertook any serious attempt at researching them," at this, Wilmo had an offended expression, which she ignored.

"Are pacifists, and do not actively utilize the Force, believing it to be an act of violence against the Force itself. Can you perhaps see how this might conflict with our Order's values?"

"Well, yes but-""-I am not done," she said, cutting him off again.

"In addition to this, they view active participation in the community as a must, and they view educating others on the Force as a moral imperative. Furthermore, they hold an active role in their planet's governance, as they are conduits of the Force." She let her brief spiel sink into what she had decided must be a particularly dense head before finishing.

"Almost every single one of their core tenets stands in contrast to ours. And this disregards the very real historical tensions that stand between our Orders, as a few Bardottan younglings were inducted into the Jedi Order sometime shortly before the Ruusan Reformations." Jedi Anthropologist Wilmo Lot was now looking at her like she had just delivered the most tragic news. Which, in all fairness, absolutely was about to happen. Which even his limited abilities of cognition could likely ascertain.

"In short, no. No, I will not be granting you funding to study a people for whom your preliminary research proved so inadequate." At her words, the man crumpled. Forgive me, but some lessons must be learned harshly.

"Jedi Lot." He looked up, tears in his eyes.

"Yes, Master Nu."

"You were not prepared for this meeting, nor do I think you were ready to study a group with whom our relations are so sensitive." He blinked back more tears. She continued with as much gentleness as she could muster, "I think it would be in your best interest to see more of the galaxy outside of the Core. Looking at your service record, you have spent less than two months doing so. If I were to give you advice, it would be to take advantage of the higher-level courses on life on the Outer Rim and then go live it.

Not as an academic, but merely a Jedi willing to learn and serve the galaxy. Now, go think on my words and may the Force be with you." Soon, a red-rimmed Wilmo Lot was out of her office, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She did not like to turn down proposals, nor did she like serving as a reality check for the young hopefuls who entered her door. Normally, she left them with simple revisions or even just a good luck and may the Force be with you.

Occasionally, though, unfortunates like Wilmo Lot would make it through. Jedi who were so thoroughly removed from the realities of the galaxy that they could arrogantly assume that everyone would be honored to see them. After all, every other non-Jedi they had ever met had certainly acted that way. It was a flaw that too many Jedi possessed, sadly, but were insulated from. A larger problem for another day, she thought. It had been the last – and certainly most painful – meeting on her schedule.

Now, she had a few more hours of normal administrative tasks ahead of her before she was free. ~*~*~ As soon as she had completed her tasks for the day, she made her way to an apartment five floors higher than hers and Rann's. She knocked on the door and heard a sonorous voice call out, "come in!" Entering, she saw her two crèchemates, Dooku and Sifo-Dyas, sitting comfortably on the floor, backed by the couche in the living room.

As they cheered her arrival, she quickly removed her robe and tossed it over the back of the chair where Sifo-Dyas' was already resting and joined them on the living room floor. All three of them knew they were probably a too old to be lying on the floor like fresh-faced Knights at over forty standard years each, but none made a move to the door.

"Where's Qui-Gon?" she asked as she poured herself a drink.

"I informed him that he had the night free," replied Dooku. She was somewhat surprised that he had joined her and Sifo-Dyas on the floor. It had been a while since they all three had been in the same place long enough, and he had only grown more formal with age.

"I would imagine he is either in some sabacc hall robbing some fools blind, or in the arms of a dubiously lucky woman."

"He's not too bad-looking," protested Sifo-Dyas.

"And he's kind. A lady could do worse. You're so harsh on him, Doo. He's your padawan!"

"Perhaps," answered Dooku diplomatically before addressing her.

"And what has occupied your day, Councilor Nu?"

"The usual," she grunted, taking a sip of the very strong Corellian brandy.

"Meetings, briefs, and people asking for my money and time while I have little enough of either."

"You never told me being High Councilor would be so interminably boring," moaned Dooku, rolling his head back dramatically.

"It feels as if we must examine every rock in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and debate their merits, only to decide all are equal!"

"The ratio of discussion compared to the number of decisions in the High Council is especially abysmal," she said.

"My sympathies, but I did tell you."

"If I have to hear about the merits of where, exactly, a comma needs to be placed in a resolution any more, I might jump," moaned Dooku, hand over his face.

"Bah!" scoffed Sifo-Dyas.

"You've both gotten old and boring. Enough! Enough of work. Don't you two talk of anything else?" A beat of companionable silence followed, before Dooku asked, "Jo, do you have anything?" Jocasta said, "Master Yaddle left me with a cryptic message before our council meeting today and hurried off before I could ask her what it meant. She's doing her best to recruit my padawan and I think she intends to make her move soon." Dooku and Sifo-Dyas made sympathetic noises. Both had been subjected to her master's schemes.

Dooku snorted and raised his glass.

"To little green trolls." She raised hers as well, smiling. They hadn't given this particular salute in years.

"And their unfortunate padawans." Sifo-Dyas watched fondly as they tapped the table and threw back their glasses.

"It's been too long since we've had a Corellian Brandy Night," he said.

"Too busy," she moaned.

"Too much work," confirmed Dooku.

"Besides, you're out of the Temple most of the time, Si," she said, before refocusing.

"Which reminds me. My padawan recently had a… bad spell. He was barely eating or leaving his room." Seeing Sifo-Dyas' stormy expression, she continued quickly.

"He's doing much better now, but he still won't tell me anything. We've hinted around the problem, but no matter how bad it gets, he won't talk to me. Do you… recommend anything?" Sifo-Dyas' face didn't clear. After a long, weary sigh, he said, "It's a difficult thing, Jo. I'm very lucky that my Master was there to guide me when my visions occurred." He nudged them both in the Force then continued, "and to have such wonderful crèchemates. But there is much stigma attached to seers these days. It would be…

difficult for me to tell someone, if they didn't already know. And what I See… if his visions are anything like it… Give him time, Jo. Give him time." She sighed, staring into her brandy.

"Enough of that. Si, what have you and Lene gotten up to, gallivanting around the galaxy while Doo and I are stuck counting beans?" She and Dooku listened intently as Sifo-Dyas shared his most recent adventure before recounting their own. The three shared their triumphs, trials and tribulations sipping on Corellian brandy as the night whiled on, baking in the glow of a friendship they had built long, long ago.