Laphisto drew the Force back into his chest and let out a small, controlled wince. The pressure around him exhaled like steam — a thin fog of spent energy skittering across the pad, pooling at his boots and vanishing into the dust. It was neither wholly Light nor wholly Dark; the two currents braided through one another until they felt like something new, like the echo of a bell struck at the edge of night. He shook his head once, clearing the aftertaste of the surge, and breathed in slowly.
"
And these people," he said, voice flat and inexorable, "
will be free to leave this world once this investigation is complete." He stepped closer to the freighter, gaze sweeping the huddled faces, the crates mislabelled as gala supplies. The soldiers tightened their ring, but their movement was automatic and almost reverent under his direction. Laphisto spoke as if reading from some cold ledger of law and consequence.
"
The Diarchy will underwrite their passage out of Diarchal space. Tickets will be paid. Transport will be arranged. But not without due process." He paused, and the rasp of his words carried the weight of administrative finality. "
They must sign the necessary paperwork formal waivers relinquishing ownership of property left behind, so that estates and holdings may be inventoried and placed for lawful auction. It is unpleasant. It is bureaucratic. It is lawful."
His visor tilted toward the estate, where gala lights still flickered like guilty stars. "
They will also be informed in full that their governor may have deceived them. The Diarchy operates on a system of planetary autonomy; each senate governs its own people. If baron Cadrin Solmaren has misled his citizens, that is a matter for adjudication."
Laphisto's voice dropped, colder now, with a thin edge of accusation. "
And if others played a part if persons who call themselves guardians or masters acted to foment fear and secrecy that too will be examined. That includes any Jedi or other outside agents found to have participated in this operation." He let the last sentence hang between them like an issued warrant. The machines around the pad clicked and coughed as techs began to lock down systems; a soldier pocketed a data-slate and moved toward the freighter's manifest with precise steps.
Laphisto watched the man carefully, studying every motion the controlled breathing, the practiced calm, the subtle readiness beneath the stillness. He had seen it before, centuries ago, in others who preached peace while bracing for war.
He exhaled softly through his nose, a faint hum escaping his helmet's vocoder. The Jedi's words were almost mournful and yet, beneath them, he could already feel the tension of inevitability. When Wuxia finally admitted his refusal to surrender, Laphisto gave a small, almost incredulous chuckle. He shook his head, the faint glint of amusement carrying something older fatigue, perhaps even regret.
"
You know," he said, lowering his rifle slightly but keeping it steady across his chest, "
when I was part of the Jedi Order, we were taught that peaceful negotiation was the first and only true path. Diplomacy before violence. Patience before passion."
He tilted his head slightly, the gesture caught between nostalgia and irony. "
Don't tell me the Order has fallen so far from its roots in the millennia I've been gone." For a brief moment, his tone wasn't accusing it was
sad. There was genuine disappointment in his words, the kind only a man who once believed could express.
"
You speak of freedom," he added, the edge of command returning to his voice, "
yet you stand ready to fight rather than talk. Tell me, Master Jedi — is this what peace looks like now? Laphisto's gaze, unseen behind the visor, lingered on the staff in Wu's hands. His voice, when he next spoke, was quieter a single, deliberate breath. "
I had hoped the new generation would have learned from the mistakes of the old."
The truth was, Laphisto already knew the answer. This wasn't the Jedi Order of his time not the one that had once stood for reflection and restraint, nor the one that had entombed him in carbonite when he had outlived his usefulness.
That Order had turned him into a weapon a relic kept on a leash for when the galaxy grew desperate enough to need something ancient and terrible. They had thawed him for wars against the Sith, against Revan and Malak, against every shadow that followed only to seal him away again when peace returned. Over and over. A tool, never a man.
His Order had died long before this Jedi's had even begun. He exhaled quietly through his respirator, the sound like a sigh lost to the wind. Beneath the armor, the Force still pulsed around him restrained, heavy, patient as he watched his men working the perimeter. They were nearly done; the freighter's engines were cooling under lockdown clamps, the pilots escorted away. All he needed now was time, and the Jedi seemed intent on giving him that.
So he spoke, voice low but sharp with old memory. "
Tell me, Jedi," he began, visor fixed squarely on Wu, "
did your government even take the first step?Did you reach out to the Diarchy Senate or to the Chancellery on Bastion before deciding this world needed your quiet salvation? Did you petition, or negotiate, or even ask permission to aid those who wished to leave?" The pause that followed wasn't empty; it carried a lifetime of disillusionment.
"
Or," he continued, "
did you simply act as so many of your kind do under the assumption that your purpose justifies your trespass?"
There was no venom in the question, only a grim echo of experience. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of bitterness bleeding through the vocoder "
Back in my day," he said, "
there were procedures. Councils. Diplomatic channels. We at least pretended to care about peace."
He let the words hang in the air, not to provoke but to stall. Every second of conversation was another second closer to containment. And though the calm in his stance never wavered, the Force behind him coiled waiting, watching, ready he would make the jedi make the first move.
Wuxia Wukong
Laphisto
informed and the comlink turned off, it's time to head toward the hot zone of the contagion now. Those traitors, those Jedi… I wonder what their level is and if they'll be able to entertain me a little. If I'm feeling generous, perhaps I'll let them go. Who knows?
