(Lianorm Swamp, Eastern coast of Lake Paonga, 2 Hours Later)
Of the three police officers, only Constable Kiherri actually accompanied us aboard the repulsor-lift boat that had been waiting for us several miles beyond the city limits. The other two constables, plus six more they'd called in with a transport from their watch precinct, were following the directions I'd related to their superior.
Instructions concerning the transportation and incarceration of trained Force-sensitives. It was encouraging to see the cops drop the disrespectful and argumentative demeanors as soon as I began speaking with authority in my area of expertise, but this entire incident had left a bad taste in my mouth.
Ravara's death had unquestionably made the galaxy a better place, and it was true that getting her minions off the street would almost certainly save lives, but there was just something about seeing the sibling of an innocent young woman I'd hoped to save brutally exacting his revenge on his sister's killer.
It made the entire sequence of events feel like one final win for the Dark Jedi, or maybe it would be more accurate to call it a victory for the Dark Side itself. It was like Ravara had managed to reach out from beyond the grave to degrade someone one last time, as the price for ending her reign of terror.
The entire situation made me wonder if this was why so many Jedi Masters seemed so reluctant to kill even the most irredeemable monsters. The Dark Side was chaos, destruction, death and decay, as much as it could be said to be anything.
Was it truly pernicious enough to prejudice any events involving the destruction of its servants, so those events still tended to result in a compounded gain in strength for the Dark Side as a whole? If that was the case, then it would certainly explain a historical oddity which had always puzzled me.
The way the Dark Side so often seemed to desert even its most fanatical devotees at a critical moment, when the Dark Adept needed the power they'd traded everything for the most. It was only idle speculation I had no way of proving one way or another, but it was certainly something to think about.
A tiny, silent voice of reason inside me took the opportunity to do a bit of needling, "Maybe all those Jedi Masters, the ones with many decades more experience than you, actually, here's a thought, might know a few things about the Force that you don't, hmm?"
Giving my head a bit of a shake, as if I could so easily dislodge that irritating splinter of an idea, I found I was glad when Constable Kiherri's attention intruded on my musing. I'd noticed recently I could actually feel it the moment someone's attention became fixed on me, and even determine how intent that fix was.
Just one more example of the way my powers were forever expanding. Powers that required no more effort on my part to do that than my simply continuing to use them. I knew the same was true for any trained Force-sensitive in a sense, but such sensitivities generally sharpened over months and years, not days and weeks.
It was a realization which had finally forced me to admit I could no longer hide from the reality of how much my experiences with the Force differed from my peers. For me, there was no slow, intimidatingly steep incline of the mind to climb up by laborious, hand over hand effort.
My power rose on an inexorably rising thermal, upon which I soared like a bird, gaining altitude with almost every twitch of my proverbial wings. It was the kind of self-knowledge that might seem encouraging, until you thought it through, because I could think of at least one prodigy whose own experiences would have been a dark reflection of my own. Except his relationship with the Force had been going on for the last several decades.
Thoughts of Darth Sidious, I'd long since discovered, were the most unfailing of all possible cures for any potential onset of arrogance concerning my powers. I had that going for me, at least.
Any time I was tempted to indulge in a bit of idiocy like "You've really been busting your backside for the last several months, Anakin, it wouldn't kill you to ease up for a couple of weeks," I had only to remember Palpatine, casually slaughtering Jedi Masters as a group that I was fortunate to occasionally edge out a win against one on one.
OK, so I had been holding myself to the Temple's "honorable" standard during those spars, but I was absolutely positive Masters Fisto and Koth had both been more interested in helping me learn than winning, even if I could push them to their limits.
On the other hand, Master Antana's technical mastery simply outclassed my own. If her command of Battle Precognition and the Control techniques that enhanced one's physical performance were anywhere near as crisp and clear as mine, she'd still be scorching me like I was a Padawan sweating out my first braid-bead.
The fact I happened to be spending fully half my nocturnal training-time these days studying texts covering the governing scientific principles of active natural phenomena wasn't doing much to advance my progress with the lightsaber either, but I refused to back away from my Master's standards for my training simply because they weren't mandatory anymore.
It was Dark Woman's contention I should be able to do everything any Guardian or Consular who were both a bare minimum of five years my senior could do, and that if I could not, it was a deficiency in my training-ethic that was to blame, since unlike my peers, I didn't suffer from a debilitating medical condition depriving me of a third of my available time.
"Knight Skywalker?" The constable politely prompted, pulling me fully into the present. His voice lacked the challenging and judgmental overtones it had previously possessed, but the hint of chagrin in it still stopped a bit short of actual contrition.
Turning to face the man, I acknowledged him by meeting his eyes, then answered in a coolly courteous manner, "Yes, Constable? Is there something I can do for you?"
Wincing almost imperceptibly at the chilly reception, the man took a deep breath, nervously scratched at the faint stubble beneath his chin, then let that breath out slowly and said, "No, I just wanted to apologize. For weeks now, the other constables and I have all been working one double watch after another.
Each of us hoping to find something to go on, with respect to the recent rash of disappearances among the ranks of the city's more prominent citizens. Last week, an already difficult task became a great deal harder, because of the mass departure of the Gungans.
Many of them held very important positions, or they played significant roles in the civic-services sector. Things like dealing with the dangerous examples of megafauna which wander out of this swamp and into the commercial district or suburbs on a regular basis.
None of that is an excuse for my putting words in your mouth, though, or not calling Constable Trialla down for her deliberately disrespectful manner, but none of us are at our best right now. It's important to me that you know what you heard was the stress, fatigue, and pent-up frustration talking.
The Senator made a point of reminding me that, if it wasn't for you and the Jedi who trained you repeatedly risking your lives, there's a good chance I wouldn't even be here to criticize your idea of justice."
The aging police officer paused to assess my reaction to his words, and when I didn't immediately reply, he began to look genuinely discouraged. Something which finally prompted me to respond with a small sigh.
"It's not a problem, Constable. Most people go their whole lives without ever seeing a Jedi in the flesh, let alone finding one in the middle of their otherwise straightforward crime scene. I should have realized that my suggestions, however practical and welcome they might have seemed to me, were likely to be taken as me trying to tell you and the other constables how to do your jobs.
At the risk of repeating my mistake, however, would you be interested in hearing what I thought of the disappearances you just mentioned?"
I did my best to couch the question in the most diplomatic manner I could manage, because these constables were easily some of the prickliest people I'd ever encountered, and it seemed wise to try and avoid another social tangle.
Frowning a little, the man very bluntly responded, "You're trying to change the subject. Is that because you really think you know what's going on, or are you just trying to close the book on what happened back there?"
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