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theageoftheunderstatement · 2 years

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NME: Arctic Monkeys: “We know more tricks now, but we’re still rolling on that same instinct”

By Sophie Williams, 21/10/2022

From the outside of Suffolk’s Butley Priory, it sounds as though the ancient building is collapsing in on itself. Located within a secluded and rural pocket of southern England, it is the sanctuary of this converted 14th Century monastery that Arctic Monkeys have chosen to call home for a fortnight. Behind the stained glass windows, guitarist Jamie Cook is conjuring up a rousing squall, jiggling on the spot. His bandmates look on, eyes ablaze with excitement at the wall of noise unfolding before them.

It’s the middle of July 2021, and this is the Sheffield band’s final week at Butley Priory, where they’ve been working on ‘The Car’, their masterful seventh album. Prior to recording, the building had been part of the four-piece’s legend for some time: it’s where longtime producer James Ford – recognised amongst fans as ‘the fifth Arctic Monkey’ – celebrated his 40th birthday. Before they reunited here for the first time since lockdown, however, the band’s initial intention for the record was “to write louder songs than we had for some time,” says frontman Alex Turner, but quickly realised that this collection was evolving beyond a bedrock of heavy riffs. “I think what I found myself wanting to play when the band were around was actually very surprising to me,” he adds.

Every performance was recorded, with the results influencing what the band preserved, honed, and ultimately ditched. And for two weeks, the world outside of Arctic Monkeys’ temporary studio was well and truly banished. When the band – comprising Turner, Cook, bassist Nick O’Malley and Matt Helders on drums – were not walking around the wilds of the Suffolk countryside together, they shared pints and watched on as England’s journey at the pandemic-delayed Euro 2020 tournament played out. For a fortnight, time almost seemed meaningless. The gang were finally back together.

As Turner relays this story to NME, he’s about as far from that memory as you can get. We meet the frontman in an east London pub on a deceptively warm October afternoon a little over a year later, just as ‘The Car’’s release week is starting to kick off. Almost unbelievably, the band’s 2009 hit ‘Crying Lightning’ is playing quietly from the stereo downstairs, as if on cue. Considering that Turner is about to settle down for a drink – or, er, an English Breakfast tea – on the floor above, whoever is in charge of the playlist this lunchtime is blissfully unaware that they’ve managed to tempt fate. Turner looks too busy attending to his little china teapot to notice, anyway.

The group’s highly-anticipated reunion comes along with ‘The Car’, a 10-track collection that, in a five-star review, NME described as “a summary of the band’s story so far: sharp songwriting, relentless innovation and unbreakable teamwork.” Under the supervision of ensemble director Bridget Samuels [Midsommar, The Green Knight] at London’s RAK Studios, it’s the first album on which the band have worked with a full orchestra, allowing Turner’s voice – which sounds more brooding and malleable than it’s ever been – to pierce through a cinematic landscape of strings, piano motifs and low-slung bass rumbles.

Elegiac opener ‘There’d Better Be A Mirrorball’ immediately raises the stakes. A breakup tune that quietly anguishes over vanishing sensations of violin and harpsichord, the album’s lead single was the first to be demoed at Butley Priory. “And picture this: while recording, I’m running around with a 16mm camera that kind of kept me out of the way of everybody a little bit,” says Turner. He ultimately saved some of the footage for himself, and the rest was interspersed throughout the track’s understatedly retro video, making for a touching time capsule of that particular recording session.

Crucially, the new album – with the cover artwork shot by Helders – presents both a more cohesive and collaborative band than the one we heard on 2018’s divisive ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’. That record riffed on consumerism and technology with a burnished depth, but traded it’s wildly successful predecessor’s tsunami of bravado, riffs and hairgel – 2013’s multiple BRIT-winning ‘AM’ – for searching lounge-pop. Its writing credits reveal that most of the band were perhaps under-utilised as performers, given that O’Malley only appears on seven tracks, and Helders’ drumming is largely restrained.

‘The Car’’s daring centrepiece, ‘Body Paint’ flips the script entirely: you can practically hear Turner wink as he sings, “and if you’re thinking of me / I’m probably thinking of you”, before swirling atmospherics and O’Malley’s tumbling bass make way for a gale-force guitar solo from Cook. It’s the full-bodied sound of the Butley Priory trip, which was solely about having fun and bringing that feeling into the new record.

“We weren’t mentally ready to play stadiums up until now” – Alex Turner

By throwing themselves into new, more daring sounds, Arctic Monkeys have emerged fearless, Turner says decisively. “The records we’re making now are definitely different now to the ones we probably thought we would be making when we started out – actually, we didn’t think we’d be even making records anymore,” Turner says. “20 years ago, I didn’t envision ourselves going beyond…” He looks deep into his cup of tea as if searching for the rest of his answer, while taking an enormous pause from which you fear he may never return. “Well, the fact we gave ourselves the name ‘Arctic Monkeys’ alludes to the extent of ambitions we had.” He stops again. “Clearly hardly any.”

Yet Arctic Monkeys’ friendship has endured, in part, because the band have always known when to say no. They built a fanbase on the basis of a few early demos shared by fans through MySpace, and before the four-piece signed with the independent Domino Records – also home to Wet Leg and Hot Chip – they’d already made a pact to never agree to their music being used in advertising. They even turned down a then-coveted offer to appear on Top Of The Pops. Weeks later, their monstrous debut single ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ stormed to the top of the UK Singles Chart instantly – no mean feat for a band without major record label cash or mountains of press on their side. They’d set a precedent to follow their own rules, and it had worked.

Stardom would soon prove to be inescapable, however: the band looked perpetually shellshocked when they broke out as unassuming teenagers with their enduring and now-seminal debut album, 2006’s ‘Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not’. “Somebody call 999, Richard Hawley’s been robbed!,” Turner famously joked, as the band, looking somewhere between a haze of drunkenness and feeling flustered, collected the Mercury Prize later that year. The following decade would see them evolve into the UK’s biggest, most culturally important band: they have gone on to headline Glastonbury twice, perform at the London 2012 Olympics opening ceremony and, perhaps most importantly, have remained consistent, while their peers in sound have failed to keep similar longevity.

“When I think back to earlier times, I feel like we were just running on instinct, creative decisions included,” says Turner, with a gentle laugh. “I mean, like, first and foremost, we didn’t really know how to play our instruments at the start. But beyond that, I don’t really think that much within the band has changed a great deal; we might know a few more tricks, but we’re still rolling on that very same instinct.”

Dressed in a royal blue Lacoste jumper, Turner entertains NME for an hour with a boyish and mischievous charm; his few concessions to age include a formal, paisley-patterned silk scarf and some stubble. A gold link chain lays around his neck – a present from his grandfather that he’s worn everywhere since 2006 – and glints against the autumn sun. As he answers questions, Turner often leans back in his chair and starts re-enacting scenes, giving it some real gusto. No man this effortlessly funny is an accident – behind it all lies a bright, astute and often humorous songwriter.

Trying to discuss his lyrics – which, on ‘The Car’, are often uncharacteristically reflective – in the pub with Turner is a different matter, however, met mostly with some hesitant, yet endearing musings on personal growth. We briefly broach ‘Hello You’, which plays with high drama, and references Turner’s youth spent in north Sheffield – but like a big Hollywood production, what’s pizazz on camera is often pain behind the scenes. “I could pass for 17 if I just get a shave / And catch some Zzzs”, he sings at one point, only half-jokingly. “So much of this new music is scratching at the past and how much of it I should hang on to,” he says. “I think that song is pretty on the nose… as uncomfortable as that may be.”

It’s when describing ‘The Car’’s lushly arranged instrumental sections, however, that you can sense the cogs in Turner’s brain are starting to turn a little quicker. “Around the last album, the big story was like, ‘Wow, he’s got a piano’, which was true to an extent, but I wonder now looking at it, that it was this thing that I now do – recording ideas as you go – that got me going,” he says. His sudden excitement moves him to clench a trademark pair of black Ray Ban sunglasses so tightly in his hand, you fear there’s every chance they could suddenly snap.

Working on the album led to Arctic Monkeys scrapping their old rule that everything they recorded had to be playable live, opening up unseen possibilities. Turner experimented with the wah-wah guitar for both ‘Jet Skis On The Moat’ and the ridiculously funky ‘I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am’ – think ‘Station To Station’-era Bowie meets ELO – the latter being the moment “where everything clicked,” he affirms. Where a younger Arctic Monkeys would have raced through punky verses with lethal precision, ‘The Car’ marinates in the textures of upward sweeps and subtle, honeyed soul.

“I’m pretty happy with how ‘Tranquility Base..’ went down” – Alex Turner

As Turner speaks, it’s easy to picture the studio and imagine the Monkeys, once again, as teenagers in a garage: Turner the leader, Helders and O’Malley the jokers, Cook the near-silent but cunning sage – or, in Turner’s words: “Jamie remains the gatekeeper of the band, as it were.” These days, Cook is the brilliantly straight-faced foil – usually wearing a suit and sunglasses onstage, rocking gently from side to side as he churns out weighty riffs – to Turner’s loose, playful showman.

“I think that’s the key difference maybe with [‘The Car’] and the last record… perhaps we didn’t quite have a grasp of the dynamics of the bigger, newer sounds we were exploring,” he says. “But playing together live again certainly helped us to get there, and we developed a better awareness of each other. You find yourself in a different place when you take the songs to a new setting beyond where they were recorded.”

Even if ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’’s complete stylistic overhaul was curious enough to unsettle fans of the band’s louder, scrappier early days, Turner remains adamant that it was the right move for the group at the time. “I’m actually pretty happy with how it went down,” he says today. “We achieved something that we may not have been able to in the past. I think it definitely gave us the confidence to go to a different place on a record.”‘ The Car’’s ‘Sculptures Of Anything Goes’ – the band’s darkest song yet, a beast of distortion and weighty electronics – even nods to the public’s mixed response to ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’: “Puncturing your bubble of relatability with your horrible new sound”.

He alludes to how, despite ‘AM’ being the band’s most commercially popular album – having gone platinum in the US – with its West Coast rap-inspired cadences and bass-heavy melodies, it also felt like a bold revamp for Arctic Monkeys at the time of its release. “‘Do I Wanna Know?’ felt like a departure from everything that we had done before – and this was similar,” he says. “We had to almost acknowledge that our sound still had a little grease in its hair, and a bit of aggressiveness.”

“I don’t think much has changed within the band since the start” – Alex Turner

Turner says, however, that when Arctic Monkeys played the 26,000-capacity Foro Sol venue in Mexico City in March 2019 as one of the final shows on that tour, it felt like a “brilliant send-off” to what had been their most artistically challenging period. Backstage at that same show, Turner began to “sketch out” demos for ‘The Car’, with the idea that they “could close our shows.” He continues: “I found this footage of me playing a song backstage at that gig, and I thought, ‘I’m going to bottle the energy for the new record.’ It was raw, and full of downstrokes guitar.”

The songs from Foro Sol were eventually scrapped, but if anything, that night proved that the ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’ era had certainly unlocked a more lighthearted side to the band than we had seen in several years. Clips of Turner pretending to lose his train of thought as the twinkling keys of ‘One Point Perspective’ fade out – in tandem with the song’s final lyric – have since been memed into oblivion. It’s a simple, yet persistently effective act: each time, he looks suddenly blank, scratches his chin, and points absently in the air as though trying to remember something. “I don’t think it’s even a choice at this point. When that spotlight centres itself on me, I just can’t help myself,” he says.

Why did the routine start in the first place? Turner’s face curls into a convincing knot of embarrassment. “You know what? I ask myself the same question every 24 hours,” he responds.

In August, Arctic Monkeys formally introduced their new era by headlining Reading & Leeds for the third time in their career, and drew in one of the festival’s biggest crowds in the process. Capping off a remarkable summer of huge outdoor shows across Europe, the weekend proved that a new, young, wildly committed generation of Monkeys fans had come to the fore, many of whom arrived via TikTok or streaming services, partly due to the recent stratospheric success of ‘505’ – the first Monkeys track to fully showcase their emotional depth as performers.

Lifted from 2007’s ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ album, the surging indie-rock track has recently surpassed hits from Eminem and Coldplay, clocking in an average of 1.7 million plays a month on Spotify alone. The stats are even more impressive when you consider that the band have actively chosen to shun social media throughout their career – it’s almost as though they can’t help gaining worldwide attention.

For Turner, seeing audiences continue to react passionately to encore closer ‘505’ has been “genuinely moving”, but he’s bemused by the revival that has come around in the first place. “Without having ‘505’ at the end of our shows for a few years around 2008, I’m not sure if it would have found the new life it has now,” he says. “I hope that doesn’t sound like I’m taking credit [for the revival] – even if it wasn’t totally unexpected, the attention around [‘505’] is really quite special.”

“The renewed attention around ‘505’ is really quite special” – Alex Turner

Arctic Monkeys’ recent live performances have also seen them bring out rarities from their back catalogue, including a moodier rendition of ‘Humbug’ standout ‘Potion Approaching’, and ‘That’s Where You’re Wrong’, a fuzzed-out singalong from the unfairly overlooked ‘Suck It And See’ era. Switching up the setlist has made the band appreciate what they’ve achieved up to this point, Turner explains: “There’s quite a lot of room now for us to unlock songs and these other little things from the past,” he says. “I have almost, like, a PDF in my mind of what we could work on.” His eyebrow arches in confusion. “Wait, it wouldn’t be a PDF, would it? I think I meant to say a spreadsheet…”

It’s this endearing playfulness and intimacy to Turner that makes his disbelief at Arctic Monkeys’ current stature, 20 years into their career, seem genuine. Next summer, they’ll play a full stadium tour across the UK for the first time ever in their career, including two huge hometown shows in Sheffield at Hillsborough Park. Better still, there’s a Glasto-shaped hole in the touring schedule, too.

The scale of these shows is already toying with Turner: “It wouldn’t have made sense for us to play stadiums before this album, and I don’t think we were mentally ready for it up until now,” he says. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself and say that some of our songs ‘belong’ in a stadium, but they could definitely hang out in a stadium.”

He says that they won’t be taking a string section on the forthcoming tour; instead, the band will be assisted by extra keys and synth. Turner is confident that the new album will translate live, and goes on to liken the rich emotional depth across ‘The Car’ to the searing, heart-raising two-minute guitar breakdown that wraps up ‘A Certain Romance’, the crowning achievement from their debut album. “I remember when we were recording ‘A Certain Romance’ and having a conversation with the producer about the final guitar solo,” he says. “There’s something that happens at the end of that track where we break some rules in a single moment. We focused on the [emotional] effect of the instrumentals over the words – and I feel like we’ve been trying to do that again and again since then.”

Are you still proud of that song?

“Yeah,” he replies immediately. “If anything, for the fact that [‘A Certain Romance’] showed that we did actually have these ambitions beyond what we once thought we were capable of. Back then, we would struggle with the idea of adding anything more to the songs; but here, there’s some guitar that goes high, and then comes back in.”

“‘A Certain Romance’ showed ambition beyond what we thought we were capable of” – Alex Turner

Across the table, he begins to play the air guitar, gleefully wriggling around in his seat. For a moment, it’s as though Turner appears spookily untouched by time: eyes bright, wide, and inquisitive; a flash of youthful, riotous joy writ large across his face. He continues: “When we recorded [‘A Certain Romance’] we were all like, ‘Woah, woah, woah…” He raises his hands above his head once more. “‘What have we done here?’ Pushing the music that far out from what we’d done before initially felt contentious, to say the least.’”

Turner looks happy, calm and content, and he should be – he’s still goofing around on the world’s biggest stages, still making music with his childhood best friends, and caring less about critical reception and more about enjoying himself. ‘The Car’ may see Arctic Monkeys traverse a far greater distance from their zippy indie beginnings than ever before, but there are no regrets, Turner says, before trailing off into another warm anecdote from the time the band spent at Butley Priory.

“The excitement and energy of everybody being together, sharing ideas in the same room, was quite powerful,” Turner says, briefly moving his gaze to the table below. “I noticed that, for instance, when I think about how it felt saying goodbye at the end of that session…” He catches himself, and looks faintly misty-eyed – though he’d never let us see that properly.

Turner turns to face us once more. “It’s just… you know, the air totally changes when the rest of the band leave. I don’t quite know what to call it, but I do know that being around them is how to get that magic – and I haven’t ever found it anywhere else,” he says, with a knowing smile.

#interview #nme #the car era #arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #jamie cook #nick o'malley

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absolutebl · 1 year

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Hello Great BL Master, I am looking for recommendations. I've been really enjoying Japanese comedies that sort of make fun of itself, such as A Man Who Defies BL, My Love Mix Up, and the currently airing Kabe Koji. Do you know of any other BL from any country with a similar silliness to it?

You're looking for parody BL, or BL with a lot of slapstick/panto to it? This is not really my balliwick but let me see what I can do.

Lots of Slapstick Content & Parody

A Man Who Defies BL (1 & 2)

My Love Mix Up

Kabe Koji

Mr. Unlucky Can Only Kiss

Same Difference - parodies office romances

Ossan’s Love (Japan) - same as above

YYY - more queer camp, parodies the cohabitation trope

Rak Diao - parodies sitcoms

Diary of Tootsies - what it’s doing is complicated to explain

Some Slapstick Content But Not Much Parody

Minato’s Laundromat

Cherry Magic

Love Stage!! (Japan)

2gether

Senpai, This Can’t be Love!

That’s My Candy

Secret Crush On You

Puppy Honey (BL side)

You Are Ma Boy

Love Stage!! (Thailand)

Ossan’s Love (Hong Kong)

Cupid’s Last Wish

Gen Y (both seasons but especially 2)

'Cause You're My Boy AKA My Tee

My Dear Loser: Edge of 17 (BL side)

#asked and answered #this was a challenge for me #thai bl #japanese bl #vietnamese bl

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burlveneer-music · 7 months

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Nico Muhly - David Hockney: Bigger & Closer (not smaller and further away)

Bedroom Community Unveils Nico Muhly's Mesmerizing Music Score for David Hockney's Light Room Exhibition This extraordinary collaboration between two artistic giants promises to transport audiences on an unparalleled sensory journey of art and music. As a composer and pianist renowned for his groundbreaking work, Nico Muhly returns to the label where he took his initial steps alongside Valgeir Sigurdsson and Ben Frost. His specially composed score for the Light Room Exhibition elevates Hockney's visual artistry to new heights, infusing each masterpiece with depth and emotion through music. Drawing on his unique ability to blend diverse musical influences, Muhly's compositions create a seamless marriage of sound and vision, guiding visitors through the six themed chapters of Hockney's iconic works. The music weaves effortlessly with Hockney's commentary, offering an immersive experience that allows audiences to intimately connect with the creative process behind each brushstroke. Bedroom Community takes great pride in presenting this exceptional musical score, tracing Hockney's artistic evolution from the vibrant streets of LA to the serene landscapes of Yorkshire and the captivating beauty of Normandy. Muhly's evocative melodies accompany visitors on an audio-visual Wagner Drive, a virtual expedition into the San Gabriel Mountains, brought to life through animated re-creations of Hockney's spellbinding stage designs. Bedroom Community invites art enthusiasts and music lovers to embark on this extraordinary journey of artistic synergy, experiencing the magical fusion of Nico Muhly's music score and David Hockney's iconic works at Lightroom London throughout 2023. David Hockney: Bigger & Closer (not smaller and further away) Music composed by Nico Muhly Recorded at RAK Studios, London and Remotely Will Purton (Engineer) Fritz Myers (Mixer) Valgeir Sigurðsson (mastering) Zara Benyounes and Mandhira de Saram (violins), Clifton Harrison (viola), Zoe Matthews (viola), Ben Michaels (cello), Alex Sopp (flute/piccolo), Nico Muhly (pianos/celestas) Commissioned by Lightroom UK Mark Grimmer (director) Richard Slaney (producer) Musicians contracted by Rob Ames Score preparation by Nathan Thatcher Album art, used by permission A Bigger Grand Canyon by David Hockney (1998) in Lightroom, King's Cross Photo Credit: Justin Sutcliffe

#Bandcamp #Nico Muhly #electronic #modern classical #2023 #minimalism

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alexturne · 2 years

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Arctic Monkeys: “We know more tricks now, but we’re still rolling on that same instinct” (NME feature)

After a glorious, but divisive, sonic shift, the Sheffield band double down with their lush new album ‘The Car’, proof that they’re ready to follow wherever the road takes them.

By Sophie Williams, 21st October 2022

Why did the routine start in the first place? Turner’s face curls into a convincing knot of embarrassment. “You know what? I ask myself the same question every 24 hours,” he responds.

Are you still proud of that song?

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #interview #long post

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oh-three · 2 years

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Anyone ever anonymously mention a canon character as important in their writing and want people to guess who it is despite not wanting them to know who it is?

#this is me with Rak's master

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theyellowhue · 10 months

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in my LITA x Dinosaur Love universe, Dinosaur Love is a prequel to LITA events and it gives us Saifah lore. Like he was as unhinged as Phayu but since he has gotten that out of his system during college while running after Rak, he has become the zen master, cock-blocker extraordinaire

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thekingofgear · 1 year

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Great site, thanks for all the inspiration. Quick question, do you know if Jonny’s ‘Smile’ amp is a ‘65 reissue Super reverb or the Tone Master? Thanks Frazer

Jonny has a used few Fender Super Reverb amps over the past decade. He first used a vintage early-70s silver-panel Fender Super Reverb to perform Electric Counterpoint at the 2013 Open’er Festival, but he hasn’t been seen with it otherwise so he probably rented it (rather than bring one all the way to Poland for one piece).

The first Super Reverb that Jonny has used most consistently is a vintage mid-60s black-panel Fender Super Reverb. The amp was first mentioned in Jonny’s recording notes for the backing track to Steve Reich’s Electric Counterpoint, which he shared on Vine in June 2014. He used the amp more than any other on the backing tracks. He subsequently used the amp when he played the lead part of Electric Counterpoint at the Glastonbury Festival on June, 2014, likely using the backing track he recorded earlier that month (Jonny mentioned in an interview that he re-records all the backing tracks each time he performs the piece live). Jonny also used that Super Reverb for a gig with the London Contemporary Orchestra in Oxford, so it seems he prefers to use that amp for gigs in the UK.

Jonny probably also used that mid-60s amp during the recording of A Light For Attracting Attention, since he used it for The Smile’s first tour rehearsals in December 2021. It was later seen in the background during The Smile rehearsals at RAK in January 2022.

A screenshot from The Smile's rehearsal of Thin Thing at RAK studio 1 in London on January 26, 2022 (Instagram) — that’s the same studio where Radiohead recorded The Bends. Jonny's mid-60s Super Reverb can be seen on the right, with an Ashdown ABM EVO II head resting on top of it. Notice how yellowed the grill cloth has become over the years. His newer Super Reverb can be seen behind him on the left, with a much brighter grill cloth.

Jonny’s current touring amp with The Smile is a '65 Reissue Super Reverb, as we explained in this post. He probably bought the amp specifically for live shows, since it’s brand new in photos from rehearsals and concerts in January 2022 — it even has the green "Jensen Equipped" tag hanging off the channel 1 volume control. That tag is found on both the ’65 Reissue on the Tone Master. But it seems very unlikely that Jonny would take the time to remove the “Tone Master” label from the amp’s grill cloth if he didn’t even bother to remove the tag. He's used that amp (probably with an identical backup) for all of The Smile's touring in 2022.

Jonny with his current '65 Reissue Super Reverb, during a rehearsal with The Smile at London's Magazine in January 2022.

A close-up of the control panel on Jonny's '65 Reissue Fender Super Reverb (photo by Y_Grrrr).

#Jonny Greenwood #The Smile #Steve Reich #Electric Counterpoint #a light for attracting attention

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profanetools · 1 year

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2, 10, 12

2. Who is your newest OC? Why did you make them?

Newest is Vyra, though technically she's something like ~2 years old. The story is a bit long: I signed up to a prompt-fill fanfiction event where someone wanted 'some tales of the dwemer'. I got fixated on this idea of a dwemer born outside of the clans who's dumped on the street. Just this illiterate street rat kid, who desperately wants to know more about the dwemer, their people, but doesn't have the familial links anymore. I got really interested in the idea of trade between chimer and dwemer as something concrete and interesting that would connect the two worlds, and initially had this kid work for a trading caravan while admiring the dwemer from afar, while the caravan master - who spoke dwemeris for trade - refused to teach this kid any and scolded their interest in the dwemer.

The more I thought about the idea the more I thought about the caravan master - this hard, embittered woman, how would she even know dwemeris? How did she get stuck in this position that she loathes? What would make her chide a 19 year old for showing interest in the dwemer? That character was and still is, to some extent, Vyra - being the bastard daughter of a Demnevanni ancestor, and then later, her ties to Bthemetz & Kagrenac, followed those questions. I realised the more interesting story focus for me wasn't Lyr (who later takes the name Rak after Vyra's dwemeri name).

I've made plenty of minor characters since who have occupied roles in my writing but I think those don't have quite the same place as 'OC' in my opinion.

10. OC you most struggled to make?

I don't think I've ever really had that much difficulty making them, actually! The characters I tend to struggle with are the characters I want to focus on more - characters who aren't warriors, rogues, or wizards, but occupy roles like peasants, farmers, traders, and artisans. Very few of them are OCs and tend to occupy the role of minor characters.

12. Which story took the most research?

Twelve Tones, due to differing/shifting timelines and various lore details.

(Non-TES answer is Considering the Weekend, where I spent almost a month mapping Revachol and trying to write a complete backstory for a canon character)

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anchanted-one · 1 year

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Legend of Vajra 30 - Godera

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/110621373

Several days later

Vajra woke up nice and early, an hour before the crack of dawn. Kira, the self-proclaimed night owl and late riser, would be harder to wake, so he decided to do so after getting everything ready.

Bax Smitts, who was in charge of the mess this morning, gave him a smile. “Early start, Master Jedi?”

“That’s right,” Vajra smiled back. “Lots to do still.”

“You know, no one will complain if you took a few extra hours,” he said, as he served Vajra beans, buttered toast, and cheese. “You’ve fought off three Rakghoul attacks, two pirate ones, and become a household name in several villages. On top of your real mission. You must be tired.”

“I am. I mean to put in a request for a vacation after this. But for now, I need to find a lab before Imperial Intelligence does.”

“Why did you respond to the second and third Rakghoul attacks? Sector defense was already there.”

“As you know, even a scratch is enough to infect someone. A platoon isn’t big enough to fight off hundreds of Raks unscathed, let alone thousands.” And then there were the Force-wielding cousins, which one of the scientists had dubbed ‘Nekghouls’ for some reason.

Vajra wolfed down the breakfast before heading down to the speeder requisitions, to ensure they had one waiting. T7 was already there, inspecting the vessel.

“How’s it going buddy? Anything we’re short on?”

“Thanks, T7. Can we depart on schedule?”

<Affirmative.>

“Good. I’ll go to secure comms. Get an update on the Masters.”

Vajra’s first order of business was to deliver his report to the Council about the Nekghouls. He’d encountered them in all three Rakghoul attacks, and felt confident his observations were worth sharing. He’d spent hours the previous night penning it all down as Jasme had taught him, all the while wishing his best friend was there to talk to. But she was still exploring Raudraksha. She would soon know the cities better than most of its inhabitants did, he was sure. He was a little jealous. He hoped he could visit it someday, when his exile had been lifted.

He'd expected to be greeted by a droid, but Master Gnost was awake. “Good morning, Vajra. I trust you’re well?”

“Yes, Master. I encountered more of the Force-using Rakghouls, and thought I’d log my report about them.”

“Ah, good, good! Thank you, Vajra. Standing by to receive.”

“Upload commencing.”

“I will read this in full, of course, but I hope you won’t mind sharing a summary right now.”

“Of course, Master. The scientists have dubbed them ‘Nekghouls’. They’re taller, but leaner than the average Rakghoul, and they stand upright. They are also intelligent enough to converse with each other, and to feel emotions other than rage and hunger. They were willing to retreat, when they saw I was a match for them, and used some level of tactical thinking. Simple stuff, like flanking and feints. I do believe they’re sentient, or close to it. This opens up some… moral dilemmas for us.”

“Indeed. Now we’ll need to consider their fates with care.”

“But they’re still highly aggressive. And it’s possible they’re virulent too, though I’m not going to test my theory. That’s all I have for you. Any Jedi sent to investigate need to use extreme caution.”

“Understood. Thank you for the report.”

One he confirmed that he’d received the report in its entirety, the Kel Dor and Vajra bid each other farewell, and the young Raudra walked back to the room he shared with Kira. He could have a long shower before waking Kira up, and they’d be back on the final stretch of the road. With luck, they’d find their scientist by the end of the day.

Kira yawned widely as she curled back into a ball in the backseat. She was glad she was being given the chance to continue sleeping, even if they had to leave before the sun rose. T7 took the wheels this time, so Kira decided to use the boss as a lap pillow.

He absent-mindedly helped her along, humming a soft song and stroking her hair; all the while she could see that he was nervous. She couldn’t blame him; they’d lost precious hours thanks to that infernal spymaster. Spending even more of their precious time to catch up on sleep had been a hard decision, but at least they knew that Doctor Godera’s lab was close to Olaris. R3-M0 was still triangulating the signature, as the cunning scientist had somehow managed to contain its emissions.

“Hey, Boss?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you tell me a story?”

She could picture the smile on his face. “I’m not good with erotica.”

“Party pooper,” she grumbled. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll forgive you this once. I’m so nervous that I didn’t get any sleep last night. Maybe a story will calm us both down.”

Vajra had tried to downplay his ordeal, but a quick chat with T7 had clued her in on the true scale of the dangers he faced, and how badly they unnerved him. She had hit almost hit her head on the wall many times the previous night, angry at herself for not being by his side.

“Once upon a time, there was a king named Kibaten. His was a proud and vast kingdom of Baradu-fekri, which covered half the continent of Amadi. The walls of his capital city were three meters thick, and his city was bedecked with precious stones. He was wealthy beyond all imagination, and wise from years of ruling. But his heir, Tekbaten, was cut from a different cloth; he was vain and ambitious. He made no secret of his plans to go to war with all of their neighbors. And even some unlucky vassals, those who had failed to pay the annual taxes due to drought or famines.

“As the years went by, it started to look like the age of Tekbaten was nearly upon them. Nothing Kibaten did, not the many nightly talks, not the threats of disinheritance, and definitely not even attempted assassination. Then, one fine day, the old king breathed his last. Tekbaten wasted no time. Within days of his crowning as the new king, he gave the order to muster, then march. ‘Where?’ Asked his grand general. Tekbaten smiled, and replied, ‘Everywhere.’ ‘But we have not the numbers for such conquest!’ Protested the General. ‘Nor can our treasury withstand such a burden!’ But Tekbaten’s response was instant. ‘Conscript the border villagers. And confiscate the wealth from the Temples of Iadon.’ And so it was done, but the blood of a hundred priests who protested ran through the streets. But the riches he gained from ransacking the shrines to the god of wealth, allowed him to amass a host that stretched on for thirty-seven ri.

“Within months, Tekbaten had begun a bloody expansion such as the world had never seen. As he had ordered, his armies marched out in all directions, and city after city fell to their might. In five years, they had reached the farthest reaches of the continent. But still, Tekbaten was not satisfied. He wanted more. He wanted the fifty thousand islands of Diso, famous for its perfumes and spices. He wanted the continent of Esheer, famous for its beautiful women. And he wanted to conquer the Adirit, who were known for their large, untapped ore deposits. ‘But we have no ships,’ the Minister said. ‘Much wood is needed, strong wood.’ ‘Cut down the holy groves of Siamos,’ replied Tekbaten. There was much weeping among the populace, for the holy groves were said to be the apple of the wild god Siamos’s eye. But the king had his lumber, and within a year, had the most magnificent navy the world had ever seen.

“And, for the first time in his kingship, Tekbaten found his invasion halted. The campaign against Diso did not go as planned. Fifty thousand islands were difficult to subdue. But his prior campaign had left him fabulously wealthy, so he doubled the size of the army. And he cut down the old trees of ancient forests to build even more ships to send the new recruits. But then, a new problem arose; ‘The soldiers are running out of food,’ the Admiral said. ‘My people have been getting fat from my conquests. Take two-thirds of all grain in the granaries, and two-thirds of every house’s livestock.’ And so, the soldiers got their food, and the conquests went apace.

“But the months passed, and the king noticed the weather growing uncommonly hot. ‘What is happening?’ he asked his Ministers. ‘We have missed our rains,’ the Minister said. The king cursed in irritation, but had no solution. Weeks passed, and the king began to notice corpses in the street. ‘What has happened?’ He asked. ‘The people are starving,’ said the Minister. ‘There is no more food in the kingdom.’ ‘So, buy more!’ The king cried. ‘We cannot, for the treasury is empty.’ Once again, the king had no solution. Days passed, and the king was stirred from his bedchambers by an ungodly dream. He went out to his balcony, and was horrified by what he saw. His magnificent city had been stripped bare. All the precious stones had been scraped off to buy loaves of bread. His once proud people had discarded all their dignity, and their skin hung off their bones. They died with curses on their lips. Curses on their king.

“Hours passed, and the resentment of the hungry became the fury of the damned. The people rose up in revolt, eager to raid the stores of the still-glimmering palace. The king fled with bags of gold and jewels. Everywhere he went, his starving subjects tried to kill him. ‘The armies!’ he thought. ‘The armies will receive me! I have always treated them well!’ And so he began a long ride for the shore. He hungered, but found no food. When he found a settlement, all his gold couldn’t buy him a fulfilling meal. When he finally reached the shoreline, he gave away all of his jewels and silks in exchange for a small boat, and someone to sail it. All he kept were his crown and his signet ring, for he knew that he would not be recognized after his ordeal.

After days at sea, he saw the topmasts on the horizon, the masts bearing his flag. And he rejoiced, thinking his fortunes had turned at last. But as he got closer, he saw that all of his magnificent ships had been wrecked against a coral reef. When he landed at the nearest island, he heard that a storm had blown his ships off-course, killing all sailors, and most of his army. The rest were outside a nearby port city named Viibu-Kirati. That news gave him one last burst of hope. He travelled until he reached Viibu-Kirati, and there he met up with the remnants of his army. ‘You?’ the Captain cried. ‘You are the king?’ ‘Yes, I am!’ Tekbaten wept with joy. ‘Here is my crown, and my ring!’

“‘He’s the king, alright!’ the lieutenant said. ‘I met his father once, and he has his eyes. His ears. His nose.’ ‘Yes, yes!’ Tekbaten cried. ‘I have been ousted while my brave soldiers were abroad! I have come now to take you home. Retake our homeland for me, and I will shower you with riches.’

“But the Captain was suspicious. Seizing the king by his ragged collar, he dragged the truth out of him, then led him to the wall. ‘We bring you our king!’ he cried. ‘We offer him to you as a gift, if you only you let us live here.’ ‘Do you not want to return home?’ the commander at the walls wanted to know. ‘What home?’ The Captain cried. ‘This man has destroyed it like a palace of sticks! It’s a wasteland now! No crops grow there, no sheep bleat! The trees have been cut down, and all the rivers run dry! Only ghosts live in the dwellings!’ The commander cackled in triumph, and agreed to the exchange. The king was taken to the city lord’s menagerie, and placed in a cage, his crown chained to his head. He was hailed as the greedy fool who thought he could be king of the world, but ended up in a cage smaller than a hovel. When his death came, many years later, he had become more beast than man. The only thought that remained were his father’s final words. ‘Ambition is good, but it must be tempered with wisdom. Mastery of the world is for the gods alone. If you try to take it all, your greed shall devour you, and your pride shall drop you to the bottom of humiliation. Turn back, my son. Turn back, while you still can.’ Tekbaten no longer understood the words. But there was one thing he did understand, even if his mind was splintered. It had grown far too late to turn back.”

Kira found herself riveted by the story. “That was a wonderful story, Master. Didn’t make me sleep any better though.”

“Sorry. I thought it was the one we needed to hear.”

“How so?”

“Imperial Intelligence did some cruel things to keep us distracted. But we cannot allow that to influence us when we clash. We—I—cannot allow my anger to take root again. I fight as a Jedi, and as a Raudra. I will not forget my soul when I face them. The Dark Side is alluring, at times like this.”

Kira shivered. All thought of sleep was gone, but she stayed down. A chill that was only partly due to the weather made her feel grateful for her rugs and her lap pillow.

“Master Jedi? This is R3-M0 here. I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I have found the location of the lab. Sending you coordinates now.”

“And the bad news?”

“I admit, I got overeager. I attempted to find my Master myself, before you did. I thought we could leave Taris behind, leave the Republic cowards and Imp scum in the swamp.”

“Ah. Running away, again? And Watcher One caught you.”

“Yes, Sir. I will be scrap soon. My Master built a backup core in case of a critical emergency. But the damage is too severe. I’m afraid, this is it. The best I can do now is… hope. Better he be taken in by Republic cowards than Imp scum.”

Vajra sighed. T7 said something angry, and cut the call. “You said it.”

Luckily, they were almost at the site. Ten minutes later, they reached the entrance to an ancient bunker. They arrived in time to see a Rodian dragging out an unconscious man.

“Who goes there?” he cried in Rodese. “Wait… are you with the Republic!”

“Indeed, we are,” Vajra said cautiously. He scanned the world through the Force.

“Such serendipitous timing!” the Rodian squeaked. “Imperial troops are storming the lab. They shot my friend! They want Doctor Godera!”

Vajra fought the urge to sigh deeply and smack his forehead. Rodians were far from the most common face in the galaxy, but he had met his fair share. Not just on Tython and Coruscant, but Uphrades as well. He’d Seen their signatures in the Force. It was… different from humans. Its hum was shriller, the colors… different. It was an instinct thing.

Even if that hadn’t been the case, a quick glance through his Shattersense was enough to tell him that the ‘unconscious friend’ was more important than any ordinary technician had a right to be, while the bunker itself was the most unimportant place in the galaxy.

He raised his palm, and threw a Stasis around the Rodian. “T7, please run a scan on our ‘friend’ here.”

T7 was a little taken aback, but complied. <Subject =/= Rodian. Subject = male. Age: 50-55.>

Kira snorted. “What a convincing holodisguise!”

Kira was looking him over. “It looks like… Master, I don’t think he’s hurt, just drugged.”

“Good. Cuff the ‘Rodian’ here, would you?”

Kira did so with a smile, and Vajra released the Stasis. T7 fired an ion pulse at him to short-circuit his holodisguise. He shimmered and turned into a familiar man.

“Watcher One,” Kira breathed.

“We meet face-to-face at last,” Vajra said with satisfaction. “I had hoped I would see you. You were right; using Rakghouls was a low blow.”

“I… I did what I had to,” One said, looking stunned. “To protect the Empire. What gave it away?”

“Your underwear’s showing. Do all Intelligence personnel wear undies with Imperial emblems on them?”

The man’s face reddened, and his hands rapidly attempted to cover his wardrobe malfunction… until he realized Vajra had been joking. “How did you know about the emblems?”

“I didn’t.”

The spymaster chuckled ruefully. “You got me, Jedi. Fair and square. I don’t know how, but no one’s seen through my disguises since I was a recruit.”

T7 whistled angrily, then knocked him out with a stun shot.

Kira keyed her comm. “Olaris base, do you copy?”

“Olaris here, Jedi. How can we assist you?”

“I need your best to come to my position and take a prisoner off our hands. And maybe a larger squad to secure the bunker nearby.”

“Copy that, Jedi. We’ll be there soon!”

“And now we wait,” Kira said tensely.

“Right.” Waiting on Taris was a grueling task, but Vajra and Kira wanted to stand guard in case there were Imperials within. Truth be told, Vajra itched to head on inside and face them, but he would not leave Kira and T7 alone out here. The Rakghouls were a persistent threat to any sentients that walked the place, and he could Sense them somewhere close by, drawn here, perhaps, by the speeder’s whine when they arrived.

“Hey, boss,” Kira was extremely fidgety. “This place makes me nervous. Mind if I talk? Softly, of course.”

“Sure, why not?”

“I was thinking we could take a break after this. We barely got any downtime after Coruscant. I don't know about you, but I'm running on fumes here."

"Yeah, I definitely need a couple of days to rest.”

“Then we’re agreed!” Kira grinned. “I’ve got a nice place planned for us: Shinju! It’s perfect! The best-known mix of culture, art, and modernity. They have like, a thousand islands in the northern hemisphere designated as a resort district. They have beaches, mountains, rivers, and shopping centers. We can spend a few days gawking at the art, eating nice food, and relaxing in hotsprings! And I can buy myself some more clothes; Carrick Station wasn’t the best place in that department.”

“I like that idea, but—”

“And did I mention the best part? Jedi get a discount!”

“Now we’re talking! But…”

“Yeah?”

“I doubt we’ll be given more than a couple of days. Plan out the Shinju trip for when we have two weeks, or something. Maybe we can persuade Jasme to come along.”

“Gotcha!” she saluted. “Do you have any other place in mind?”

“I’ve always wanted to see Alderaan, Chandrila, Corellia…”

“No to the first—civil war—and ewww to the third! The planet has its plus sides, but the people there are as snobbish as Coruscant!”

“So it’s Chandrila then?”

“Good choice! Nice place to relax and shop. I suppose they’re as good a place to get better clothes at, too!”

“It’s decided then.”

They were interrupted by the whine of engines. Vajra quickly reached out with his Senses, and found Rakghouls approaching.

As soon as the soldiers landed, the tallest one casually tossed something on the ground. “Sonic emitter,” he explained. “Consider it a field test. I want to see if this can keep the Raks away.”

Vajra felt a little dizzy, and clapped hands to ears.

“What’s that? You can hear it?”

“Barely,” Vajra breathed, reaching for the Force.

“Sorry, sorry! I’ll deactivate it—”

“There’s no need. The Force gives us some protection, if we get a little warning next time.”

The tall man burst into laughter. “Sorry, I’ll remember that next time!”

“Besides, I’d have just asked you for your spare sonic dampeners. I’ll need to carry one in the future.”

“True.”

Vajra reached out again. “I think it’s working. The Rakghouls are keeping their distance.”

“Good!

The soldier with the middling height spoke up. “Sorry for the delayed introduction. I’m Commander Harron Tavus, of Havoc Squad.”

T7 whistled in shock. <Commander Tavus?>

“Have you heard of me?”

“Oh, so you’re that T7 unit? Nice to meet you again! Still serving with the Jedi?”

<Affirmative!>

“T7 worked really hard during the recent red alert,” Vajra grinned. “Really showed them that they can’t just march on in without a war crime or fifty as a smokescreen.”

Tavus shifted, then removed his helmet, revealing a weathered face with a thick moustache. His subordinates followed suit; the small soldier was a Mirialan woman with a scar on her jaw. The tall man was an older human soldier with dark skin, perhaps on the verge of retirement.

“This my Second-in-Command, Lieutenant Zora. Answers to ‘Wraith’. And my tech specialist, Lieutenant Bex Kolos, aka ‘Gearbox’.”

“We were here on Spec Forces business, but were in the area. I had a source in the SIS who told me you might be running into one Imp spymaster. This him?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s him,” Wraith said shortly. “Watcher One.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent match.”

“Good.” Tavus looked back at Vajra. “So what’s the story here? Why is a Jedi after a spy?”

“That man behind him, I’d wager,” Gearbox grunted. “I think that’s Nasan Godera. The man’s a mad scientist. A genius, but I can’t believe we’re being forced to rely on him.”

“Well, Darth Angral did nearly seal off Coruscant forever, right?” Kira sighed. “This just shows how desperate things are. But I know how you feel.”

“How did a pair of Padawans manage to capture him?”

“Master Vajra is a full Knight, actually.”

Tavus and Gearbox both gave impressed chuckles, but Wraith remained unmoved. “Pardon me for my rudeness then!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Vajra smiled. “I can’t believe it myself. Besides, we don’t wear stripes or rank cylinders, which makes it difficult to tell!”

“Anyway, is it alright if we take this man off your hands?” Vajra nodded.

As they prepared to leave, Vajra blurted out “Can you believe I find the man sympathetic? He’s a patriot, and was genuinely civil. He seemed to regret having to fight.”

“Not so surprising, Jedi,” Tavus sighed. “These guys are the same as us, only born on a different side of the border. Like us, they have lives, dreams, families. If not for this war…” He sighed again.

“I wonder if it’s possible to coexist, someday.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, boy,” Wraith said sourly. “We might not be so different, but the ones in charge are like oil and water. One makes you much more flammable, the other smothers and drowns you. We will fight until one side is wiped out. Or taken over.”

The thought made Vajra sad, but Gearbox clapped his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Look, there’s no need to stop dreaming. You may be a Knight, but don’t let the galaxy stomp out your inner child so quickly. Hold onto your innocence, if only a little while longer.”

Kira beamed, and Vajra nodded. The soldiers left, leaving their sonic emitter behind to make the rest of their wait easier.

Watcher One groaned as he woke up.

“Good morning, Watcher. Did you sleep well?”

The spymaster didn't answer. He instead took note of his surroundings. He seemed to be still on Taris. Underground. One of the bombed-out buildings, from the looks of it. It looked like a lab in the process of being set up on the floor below.

There were several large transparisteel glass cages, fitted with dozens of monitors and each with its own dedicated observation room. A master Station, where different projects could be coordinated and scrutinized. Dozens of boxes of a wide variety of chemicals. Stainless Durasteel equipment. Sterilization and Heavy Lifting droids.

He turned his attention to the man who questioned him. A small man with a very sinister smile, face decked with cybernetics. He didn't recognize him. Nor did he know the Mirialan woman, nor the tall dark man the same age as himself. His scrutiny stopped abruptly when his eyes found their Commanding Officer.

“Blast it all,” he cursed. “I have the worst possible luck!”

“Or the very best,” the small man told him with a smirk. “You know who we are?”

“Of course. Every one of us knows Commander Harron Tavus. And that makes you Havoc Squad. The best of Republic Special Forces.”

“He knows you pretty well, Commander,” the Sinister one said, tossing a grin at his CO. “Doesn't know us though.”

“Of course not,” Tavus said. He walked up to Watcher One's bed. “All these Intelligence types. They love to act like they have our every last datafile available at their fingertips but there's only so much an operative can know. They only ever have thorough briefings of things that they know are in their mission.” He sat down and looked Watcher One in the Eye. “For instance, I doubt you know that Havoc defected months ago.”

The Watcher prided himself on his ability to quickly process information, and to see how it could be used to his advantage. But this declaration left him dumbstruck.

"Eh?"

Neither of the soldiers responded, though the sinister one began to chuckle.

“How? When? How do I know you're telling the truth?”

His question was answered by the holoterminal. A medium sized image of a familiar bald man materialized in front of him.

“Ah, Watcher One. Good to have you with us again.”

“Keeper,” Watcher One greeted his old colleague. He liked the man—he was a patriot like himself, and was known to watch out for his operatives as best he could, to shield them from the occasional meddling by Sith like Darth Jadus, or worse. However, he could never bring himself to trust the sly old fox who ran Imperial Intelligence. Too many secrets-- too much paranoia.

“Let’s leave them to their talk. We have our own mission here, Watcher One, so if you don’t mind, we’ll be getting back to it.” With a salute, Tavus led his squad to the lower floor, shutting the door behind him. There was a little privacy here now, although Watcher One highly suspected there would be listening devices. It couldn’t be helped. That Keeper was willing to speak despite that, had to be enough. For now.

“Getting a little careless, old friend? You've had wondrous successes only a few months ago, yet the Godera situation wasn't something you should have had trouble with.”

“I must be getting old. I've no idea what gave it away. The Jedi was tight-lipped about how he saw through my disguise. One second everything was under control, and the next I was totally immobilized.”

“Indeed.”

“This Jedi was only recently Knighted, but his handling of the Planet Prison situation was quite competent. Yet his ability to sniff me out was unexpected.”

“And what is your assessment?”

“These Force-Wielding types See things differently in the Force. Perhaps this one could sense my duplicity—by Lord Tarnis's report we know that the Jedi sensed something off in him. That was why he acted a week ahead of schedule in the first place, before he had all pieces fall into place. With me, he was better prepared to recognize the instinct, perhaps.”

“Very well. I'll see the assessment added to his dossier. With luck, the next time we face him we might be able to better analyze his Sight. Or eliminate him entirely.”

Watcher One nodded, and Keeper turned to instruct an aid to order the addition.

When Keeper returned his attention, he looked his age for the first time.

For the first time ever.

This was not good.

“Something the matter, Sir?”

“Chaos, old friend. Much has happened these past days. Despite our best efforts, the galaxy accelerates beyond our control.” The old man took a deep breath before continuing. “Darth Jadus is dead.” Oh dear, that was troubling. Not only was Jadus on the Imperial Council, he had been the strongest Sith—next to the Emperor himself in power. No doubt there was worse to come.

“His flagship, the Dominator, was blown out of orbit by a terrorist network. They are now gloating about another strike to come sometime soon. One that could cripple the Empire. And given that the assassination of Jadus was merely a prelude, we’re taking this very seriously.”

“I understand, Keeper.”

“Return to Dromund Kaas. I’ve dispatched our newest Cipher agent on the case, but I’m assigning you to the case as well.”

“Yes sir.”

A new Cipher? Agents with those designation were among the elite. Stripped of their name and records, these operatives were given the best of equipment, top secret clearance- and all of the highest risk operations. Espionage, infiltration, sabotage, assassination, coercion. There were never more than several dozen in the Empire at any given time. That one had been newly promoted and promptly sent out was troubling indeed.

“What about my operation on Taris? Godera?”

“Godera is out of our hands now,” Keeper said somberly. “And frankly, no longer as big a concern as he was. The Eagle is our biggest threat now. As for Taris… we’ll have to leave your other assignments to the Military.”

Oh. For Keeper to abandon an Intelligence initiative, that must really hurt… but yes. This “Eagle” clearly was that important.

“And the most sensitive ones we leave to Havoc.” The old man glared at Watcher One. “As Commander Tavus has no doubt mentioned, Havoc is Imperial now.”

Having one of the most illustrious heroes of the Republic defect was quite the coup. And yet if he hadn't heard of it yet...

“I take it this isn't common knowledge yet?”

"No. A number of Republic soldiers defected to us along with Havoc Squad, and for the time being, Special Forces is trying to keep it under wraps. That makes things easier for us, of course, since our defectors can continue to work on the other side for the time being. Garza is far too secretive for her own good-- she hasn't seen fit to alert SIS or the Senate of their treason, and so every time we use them, she has to work harder to cover up yet another incident. If she had been more open the defectors would have a much harder time moving through Republic ranks. Imagine Havoc brazenly approaching a Jedi several months after they defected!”

“Yes that's Garza, alright. Always so territorial. See that that doesn't happen to you, eh?”

“Noted,” Keeper replied sardonically. “But all that matters is that they work for the Empire. And for the time being, they answer to Intelligence, specifically. Havoc will take over your recon work here. The op may not be fully ours anymore, but it will be done and done on time. Now head back to Headquarters, we’ve a terrorist army to deal with.”

An hour later

Vajra and Kira were brought to the medical center, where Godera had finally woken up.

“Ah, so you’re the ones I have to thank for saving me from that self-righteous popinjay?” His voice was high-pitched and reedy. “Thank you. Truly.”

“No problem… Godera-coward,” Kira grinned.

The scientist blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We met R3-M0,” Vajra explained. “Neither of us are happy with your overly judgmental attitude about the Republic. You say they rolled over for the Empire, but what did you do when Intelligence came? You ran. What did your droid do when he found you? He tried to seek you out so you could run away together. Truly, courage worthy of the man who programmed his droid to call our soldiers ‘Republic cowards!’”

“That’s not something you told me, old friend.”

“Hello, Major. Sorry, we’re a bit tired.”

“A lot,” Kira agreed. “And annoyed.”

“I had no way to fight them,” Godera protested. “I’m not a soldier, I’m a scientist!”

“The trillions of lives the Republic was forced to surrender to save were also not civilians. What do you think the Republic could have done? And now, your petty resignation has cost us dearly. Your successor was a Sith.”

“Indeed. I’ll bring the Godera-coward up to speed later. I’m sorry, Doc, but that’s your official designation now. How kriffing dare you call the billions of brave soldiers cowards?” Var Suthra did not wait for Godera to stop sputtering. “As for you, I’m really impressed! Even with the enemy tossing in such dirty stinkers into the pool, you still managed to catch him on time! And now you’ve taken their most troublesome spies off the board too. Nice wor—what’s that?” There was a commotion right outside the medical wing.

“WHERE IS HE!?” someone roared. Several armored figures burst into the wing, causing everyone to stare.

“Lieutenant Queens?”

It was him, and he was mad! His eyes zeroed in on Vajra, and he gave a great bellow and charged at him. Completely blindsided, the Jedi was not able to sidestep him in time. He took a meaty blow to the cheek that threw him corkscrewing through the air. A bed broke his fall, though it left the frame wrecked.

“HEEEEEEY!” Kira roared, and drew her Lightsaber. Her warning swing cut off the soldier’s pauldron and a couple of horns. “WHAT THE ABSOLUTE CLUSTERFUCK ARE YOU DOING!?”

“Are you insane, Lieutenant? Have you no sense of discipline?”

“SHUT YOUR CORK, VAR SUTHRA!” Queens bellowed, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS LITTLE SNOT JUST COST US!? DO YOU KNOW WHO HE ALLOWED TO GET AWAY?!”

Nothing was making sense to Vajra as he fought to regain his feet. He felt his face gingerly. He’d been struck right below the eye. Thankfully, nothing felt broken. That blow… he felt cold. It had enough force to kill someone. If he was still alive, that meant… “Kira? Did you save me?”

“That’s right,” she confirmed. “Barely. I Pulled you aside just as his fist connected. I have half a mind to take all of his limbs off!” She turned an ugly snarl at Queens. “I don’t care what you think he did—”

“What’s going on in here!” Elara came in, crying. “This is a hospital! I must insist you quiet down!” She looked at Vajra, sitting on the ruins of the bed, and gasped. “Master Jedi!” She immediately unholstered her gun and raised it at Roban’s head. “You’re way out of line, Leftenant!”

“Tell me about it,” Var Suthra exclaimed. “And I mean it literally! Spill everything, now!”

“I only answer to General Garza,” Queens spat.

Vajra stood to his full height. Now that the shock had passed, he felt a deep sense of outrage. “You attacked a member of the Jedi Order, without any warning or provocation. Your blow… could literally have killed me.” That made him smart. “If you think your Garza can protect you—"

“Provocation?” Queens bellowed. “I’ll show you provocation, you stupid boy!”

But this time, Vajra was ready for him. He dodged the soldier’s heavy blows, parried aside a kick aimed at his head, then slammed his fist into the large Zabrak’s belly. The armor splintered and broke; his fist buried itself deep into his heavily muscled flesh. With a loud cry, he was sent crashing into his comrade, twenty feet behind him.

Vajra coolly took a defensive stance. He really shouldn’t have pressed on, but he was enraged at an attack from someone he’d started to regard as a friend. Not to mention, ashamed at having been caught off-guard. “Do not attack me again. If you do, I will defend myself. You won’t like it. I will wipe the floor with your lips. I won’t even use the Force!”

Jorgan and Queens both roared and attempted to fight Vajra, who fought them without the Force as promised. His dodges were slower, his punches weaker, but he still had the clear advantage in this brawl.

Both men tried to flank him, forcing him to put at least one man at his back, but the tactic failed to account for Vajra’s mobility and aggression. He attacked before the pincer could close, or evaded. Without the Force, he couldn’t attempt to hit their armored bodies, so he weaved in and out of their paths until he got a good opening.

He smashed a fist into Queens’ cheek after the man’s heavy swing left him wide open. Jorgan’s indignant roar was cut short by a punch to his face. Vajra caught Jorgan’s limp arm and tossed him on the larger soldier, and they both went down, stunned.

“I’m turning the Force back on now,” Vajra said darkly. He activated his Lightsaber and held it at Queens’ throat. “Now tell me what this is all about, or your precious General will need new errand boys.”

The Zabrak was too incensed to answer, but eventually, Jorgan did.

“Tavus. Commander Harron Tavus. He and most of his squad turned cloak.”

T7 gave a shrill whistle of denial.

“He says, ‘That’s impossible’.”

“I don’t care what one little garbage can says!” Roban roared. “I was there when they defected, back on Ord Mantell! They turned over a frigging tactical nuke to the Imps and got flown out of there on an Imp combat shuttle! And they convinced my best friend to defect as well! You think you’re feeling betrayed right now? My best friend shot me at point blank range! Only reason I survived was because I had my shield up!”

“Wait… if this on Ord Mantell…! This isn’t recent!”

“How long ago was this?!” Var Suthra asked in horror.

“More than a month, I think!” Vajra answered. “Why isn’t this well-known yet?”

“Because Garza kept it under wraps!” Var Suthra replied, sounding upset.

“THEN HOW CAN YOU BLAME US FOR NOT KNOWING?!” Kira hollered. “HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW YOUR LITTLE SECRET? YOUR PUNCH COULD HAVE KILLED VAJRA!”

Queens had the good grace to flinch.

“If you want to blame anyone, make it Garza!” Var Suthra growled. “Give her the punch she deserves, really dig into her! Idiot!”

“Watch what you say about her, Major Var Security Breach!”

“Better than actively covering the tracks of a squad of traitors,” Vajra countered. “How much energy and resources do you think she’s spent covering this up? She’s all but accessory to their crimes, now!”

Queens tried to rise, but Vajra moved the tip of his Lightsaber to the Zabrak’s throat. “Do not try anything,” he warned him. “You’ll never catch me with my guard down again!”

“Stupid brat!”

“Come to think of it…” Vajra realized suddenly. “If Tavus is a traitor…”

“That means Watcher One’s out there again,” Kira finished. “I’m going to find this General Garza and give her a twenty-hour-long piece of my mind!”

“You prissy little nerf turd—"

“Please, Leftenant,” Elara said angrily. “Come quietly. You will be restrained until your court-martial.”

“How ironic,” Vajra said. “That the loyal members of Havoc get court-martialed before the traitors.”

Both men glared daggers at him, but Jorgan sighed. “They… they have a point, Lieutenant. They’re not to blame for this fuck-up. Garza is.” Queens turned his glare at Jorgan, but the Cathar held his gaze unflinchingly. “Don’t look at me like that. Have you forgotten that I’ve seen wet-behind-the-ears recruits like yourself for years before you came along? It’s true! How can we expect them to know top-secret info? Blaming him… well, it’s like how I was blamed for their defection myself!”

Both men were picked up by security droids and marched away.

Queens paused at the door. “You’ve made an enemy today, Jedi.”

“I think we both know I can take you.”

“Not me,” Queens growled. “General Garza.”

“Perhaps she’ll politely ask Darth Angral if she can have her go at me first,” Vajra said in his most bored voice. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

Kira guffawed as the sentries forced Queens and Jorgan out.

Elara gave Vajra a very concerned look. “Sir… I’m really sorry about this. After all you’ve done, this is just… Please get yourself looked at. That bruise looks nasty.”

“I will, Sergeant. Thank you.”

“That puts a damper on things,” Var Suthra sighed. “After all your hard work, Watcher One escaped.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll join Kira in writing Garza a ‘fuck-you’ letter. I’ll escort the Godera-coward to your ship so that he’s safe.”

“Are we still calling me that?” Godera cried.

“Yes!” Everyone answered him at once, and he descended into a sulk.

The next day, Location: classified

General Elin Garza massaged her temples. What a nightmare! What was Queens thinking, assaulting a Jedi like that? And so publicly, too! Inside a medical wing, of all things!

It had led to a hearing overseen by not just the oversight committee, but Supreme Commander Rans himself. Garza was in the middle of her third viewing.

Senator Arnus had the podium. “And now we move back to the subject of Republic Army Special Forces Squad 326, codenamed ‘Havoc Squad’. Some members of this council will recall that it has been the subject of a long and fruitless investigation, but a misconduct complaint filed by a Jedi Knight has crucial evidence. Master Vajra, who is currently known best for saving Coruscant from a state of perpetual siege. Master Jedi?”

“Good evening, Senators,” the boy was shaking slightly, clearly nervous to be here. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such tidings.”

“It’s not your fault, Master Jedi. Can you tell us, in your own words, what happened earlier this morning? And please, be at ease. This isn’t a formal court. You will not be cross-examined.”

“I was on Taris, looking for… a resource that Major Var Suthra believed could help us deal with Darth Angral. After successfully recovering it, I was attacked without warning by Lieutenant Queens of Havoc Squad. We had worked together several times before, this past month, so his assault caught me off guard. With help from Kira Carsen, I subdued him and got the truth out of him. It seems that during my mission, I encountered a traitor to the Republic, Commander Harron Tavus, and failed to capture him. Trouble was, there were only two people in a hundred parsecs who knew that Tavus and his squad had turned. I was told that this might be due to the General in charge of Spec Ops insisting on covering up the incident, even from the military. We literally had no way of knowing. But it gets worse; Tavus took possession of a very dangerous prisoner I had captured, an Imperial spymaster known as ‘Watcher One’. A prisoner who has long since escaped. If Garza was the one who wasted resources keeping the defections quiet, then she’s practically an accessory to all the crimes they’re committing without the rest of us being any the wiser. She is responsible for the escape of a man who engineered attacks by pirates, beasts, and Rakghouls on the defenseless settlers of Taris. It’s my belief that she should no longer be trusted with what needs to be kept secret, and what shouldn’t.”

Garza’s lip curled. She wanted to scoff, to say that this boy was too green a novice to be lecturing her. Who was he to dictate what should, and what shouldn’t be classified information? But, infuriating though it was to admit it, he had a point. He had captured the nefarious Watcher One, the news of whose capture alone could have shaken Imperial Intelligence down to its foundations. Properly interrogated, his intel could have turned the tide on many troubled worlds.

No, he wasn’t at fault here. If anyone, it was her hot-blooded young errand boys. What were they thinking, attacking a Jedi in the middle of the base? The least they could have done was to make sure the coast was clear! Now there was no way of keeping this discreet! Half the base would have been wagging their tongues before she was even notified!

She needed to have a serious talk with her men, but for the time being, every decision she had ever made was about to be intensely scrutinized.

The rest of the trial had included a recording of the episode. It showed just how explosive Queens’ violent outburst had been, and showed not only the idiot stooges confessing the truth, but also disclosing that Jorgan had been held as a scapegoat.

Queens and Jorgan would get off with a severe reprimand and a black mark on their records for getting into a brawl, but she? She had much more to answer for. That hypermetropic oaf, Var Suthra, had been merely demoted for his blunder, so Garza hoped she wouldn’t have too much to pay. But unlike him, she had lied to the senate—lied to their faces—and ordered her subordinates to do the same. That made this personal. She might not get demoted, but there would be calls for more investigations, and restrictions on her control of Spec Ops. Contrary to what the boy said, the dark workings of the military needed to be kept secret. One backfired incident did not change that fact, or even a hundred. The people needed to respect the military, as did the Senate. How could they fight the Empire if they did not have the full backing of their people?

She heard Satele Shan’s retort, from nearly a decade before. “How can you have the full backing of your people if you lie to them, through your filthy teeth?” They had been friends once, until Shan had caught her covering up for a massacre of Imperial civilians.

That was the only time she’d seen the future Grand Master of the Jedi Order truly enraged. The woman looked ready to kill her, only held in check by her own code. Garza had scoffed at her back once she’d left, but though she tried to repeat the old argument in her head, Satele’s voice never failed to rebut.

She was wrong. They were wrong. The galaxy wasn’t black-and-white. Perhaps more so than usual in the military. Give a jarhead a gun, and you would definitely see it used… inappropriately. But the military needed to be seen as white knights. What would happen the day the ordinary citizens realized that their soldiers could be just as imperfect as everyone else?

It would make the army’s job much harder. That had to be avoided at all costs. But sadly, it looked like that ship had sailed. Tiring of her hours of obsessive stewing, she decided she needed a break. Perhaps a nice, stiff drink, followed by a visit to Marcus’ base on this planet.

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