Chapter Text
“They’re here?” Master Drallig’s voice was quiet as he stepped up to the Guard’s side, tucking himself in next to them and leaning against the wall. They were standing hidden in the deep well of shadows at the entrance on the 3rd sub-level, on the South Eastern side of the temple. It wasn’t a bad watch level, in the Guard’s opinion; this entrance was high enough that they still occasionally got a glimpse of the sun when it was directly overhead, and did not, usually, see any trouble. It was also low enough, though they almost never had to deal with the idle and curious, the sightseers and visitors who had no business but just wanted to gawk, or worse, try to sneak in. Everyone down on this level was passing through, on their way to or from somewhere, with a destination in mind or a job to do.
Which was part of what made this group stand out.
“Some of them,” the Guard confirmed, equally quietly. Their grip slid comfortingly on the hilt of their lightstaff as they resisted the urge to fidget. Even though this post didn’t come with the same expectations as standing guard on the main entrance to the Temple at the Processional Way, the rigid stillness and silence. That post was half guarding and half pageantry, with their uniforms bright and visible, their masks pale and gold, their silence absolute. Even without that expectation, however, they still weren’t interested in looking like a fidgety Padawan in front of Master Drallig.
Also, the other entrances were equally important, even if they were reserved strictly for Jedi use — and the occasional guest who needed to be escorted in quietly and away from any prying eyes. There were many more entrances to the Temple than the Processional Way, and it was the Temple Guard’s duty to guard them all. They did it on a rotation. This was both for morale, so that one Guard was not stuck staring at the same door every day and growing complacent, and also for the practical purpose of ensuring that all the Guards were familiar with any location they might be called on to protect. Another benefit that this particular Guard hadn’t been consciously aware of until about two days ago, was the usefulness of the rotation of skills and strengths across the Temple.
Everyone in the Guard had to meet Master Drallig’s extremely stringent lightsaber combat requirements, but other than that they ran the gamut of skills and strength and backgrounds. Knight, Master, Corps member; once you had been accepted into the Guard your background didn’t matter, only the skills you could bring to the protection of the Temple. That meant that despite the outward appearance of uniformity imbued by their uniforms and concealing masks and hoods, no two guards had the same talents or experience.
Chance, a quirk of the schedule, the Force moving through them, something had brought two of the Guard’s most sensitive emotion-sensors to converge on this level within the last three days. One was cycling up from a lower floor, and another dropping down from a higher one. Both of them had immediately alerted their shift-leaders upon taking up their posts, on opposite sides of the Temple, that there was something happening on this level that needed closer attention. It had only taken roughly an hour after that before their watchers had been located and had a watch set on them in turn.
Despite the rapidity of their response, Master Drallig was still threatening to throw them all back into basic observational training, which this Guard would like to avoid, personally. Look, they liked creche duty as much as the next Jedi did, but standing perfectly still while sticky-fingered little monsters tried to get you to react was still not their idea of fun. Especially when you also had to keep track of their mischief and weren’t allowed to egg them on, or aid and abet. What fun was creche duty when you weren’t helping initiates float their Creche Master’s padd up to the highest shelf while the Master pretended to be oblivious to the giggles? No fun at all, that’s what.
They weren’t sure no-fun punishment duty in the guise of observational training was warranted. They also weren’t sure it wasn’t. The Force was restless, had been for weeks, and they all knew it. Master Windu had collapsed for the Force’s sake. They should have been at high alert for any change, especially one with the potential to be a threat. As it stood, they didn’t know how long the beings who had been loitering around this level’s Temple entrances had been there, let alone what they wanted. The Temple Guard Corps as a whole was not pleased by the oversight, any more than Master Drallig was. The protection of the Temple was their chosen duty, and they took it seriously. None of which meant this particular Guard was happy about guarding the post chosen for Master Drallig to get a closer look at the potential threat. Even if that was mostly because they still weren’t convinced that the esteemed Master didn’t remember that time they’d gotten too enthusiastic about the flips in an Ataru class and thrown up all over the man’s robes.
After a couple of long, quiet minutes where they watched endless beings and vehicles pass them by, Master Drallig sighs. “Alright. Report.”
“We started noticing them three days ago,” the Guard complied, starting at the beginning even though they knew Master Drallig would have read the preliminary report. It had been put together and submitted by the rotation shift leads yesterday, after a few too many common threads were noticed. Who said cafeteria gossip wasn’t useful? Certainly no Guard, ever. “But they may have been there earlier. We aren’t sure. A couple of our best passive emotion sensors got rotated to this level and pointed them out to the rest of us. If you don’t know they’re there to sense for then they mostly fade into the background, and they stay pretty well out of line-of-sight. It has to be intentional; both the hiding, and the choice of this level. This level is low enough that the security systems aren’t as good, but not so low that the territories are all controlled by gangs who would object violently to new presences loitering, no matter how subtle. And they’re definitely loitering. Look there,” the Guard glanced subtly in the direction they meant. “By the edge of the building at your 3 o’clock: you can just see the edge of a sleeve where someone isn’t tucked away well enough.”
Drallig nodded slightly, not glancing that way, but the Guard could feel a ripple in their senses as the Master reached out. He hummed at what he senses, curious, but if anything he was a little less alarmed than he had been.
Yeah, that sounded about right.
“So no one has gotten a good look at them?”
“No, Master,” the Guard responded, shaking their head with enough vigor that they could feel the small chains clasped to their horns shift out of place under their hood, enough to slide under the edge of their mask and press into their skin. Ugh. They’d have to fix that or it would drive them crazy. After Master Drallig left, so that he didn’t see them fishing around at the edge of their mask like an initiate trying to scratch an itch under a cast. “Not that I’ve heard. The few times anyone has gotten more of a glimpse than that,” they nodded just a bit at the offending sleeve. “They’d been covered head to toe, often in clothes baggy enough to conceal their basic shape. Mostly-humanoid is the best we’ve got, so far.”
Drallig frowned, leaning harder into the wall, tapping idly on the hilt of his saber as he considered that information.
“Is it a uniform? Is this a new gang? It’s unusual for them to set up this close to us, especially not his high up. Though that does mean this is mostly-unclaimed territory. They might be waiting to see if we object to them.”
The Guard’s nose wrinkled.
“No one can agree,” they admitted, shrugging. “I don’t think so, personally. I’ve only seen one of them near-fully, but I’ve seen pieces of several others, and the only thing they all had in common as far as I could see was a lack of identifying markers. All different fabrics and patterns on the glimpses. Lots of blue, but I’m not sure that’s more than a coincidence. Maybe if we saw more of them we’d be able to tell better, but…”
They nodded again at the place where the errant sleeve had been protruding from around a corner. It was gone now, and the Guard didn’t expect to see a hint of that one again. They rarely seemed to make the same mistakes.
Drallig’s signature rippled again, seeking, and it was followed by another hum, contemplative.
The Guard nodded.
“Yeah,” they said, leaning deeper into the shadows. “You can feel it too, right?”
Drallig snorted.
“Empathy was never my best skill,” he deflected and the Guard grinned a little at him, though it was invisible under the mask they wore. It was something of a running joke, in the Temple Guard. They were supposed to be emotionless, having given themselves entirely to a higher calling. And it was true that while on duty they had responsibilities that they had to set ahead of all desires. But they were still sentients, still Jedi, and feeling was what they did: how could they dedicate themselves to the protection of all who lived within the Temple if they did not also love them?
So every time their leader, Master Drallig, declared himself emotionless, or exhibited his sincere desire to solve problems with sabers and fists rather than words and diplomacy, the Guards knew that it was only half of the truth.
And even if it were all of the truth, a Jedi would have to be blind drunk, high, and so senile they were double Yoda’s age to miss the deep, endless well of grief, and stubborn, determined fervor that had slowly come to nearly circle the Temple, as the numbers of this mystery group slowly grew over the last two days. Especially not once it had been pointed out to them as a thing distinct from the background, pulsing miasma of Coruscant’s emotional input.
Unfortunately, the ability to sense emotion still gave no clear insight into intention, even when it came in such depth and strange uniformity of purpose. A group of unknown persons had spent the last three days, at minimum, slowly surrounding the Temple. They were staying out of sight of the Guards, but clearly knew or had discovered far more about the various entrances to the Temple than anyone was comfortable with. They felt very deeply about something, and it felt like far too much of a coincidence to assume that that something was unrelated to the Jedi, who’s Temple they watched.
The Guard and Master Drallig existed quietly in mutual understanding for several minutes, senses extended as Coruscant moved around them, and formless intent broke like waves upon the walls of the Temple.
“Have you caught the Senate announcement yet?” Drallig asked, breaking the silence between them. The Guard shook their head, uncertain where this new line of questioning was going.
Drallig sighed, deep and tired.
“Vote passed,” he said, and the Guard felt tension zing up their spine. There was only one vote before the Senate right now that could make Drallig sound like that. “Chancellor's going to be putting together an army, and I’ll wager no one is going to be happy once they figure out what that’s really going to mean. Keep your eyes and senses open, Guard. Coruscant’s about to wake up, and it’s not going to be happy about it.”
The Guard nodded wordlessly, adjusting their hands on their staff for a better grip.
“Initiate outings have been suspended entirely,” Drallig continued. “And no more letting the Padawans sneak out, not until we find out where the chips will fall on this one. If it was just this vote I’d say let the seniors keep up their ‘secret’ outings, but not with this unknown group in the mix as well, and so close to our walls. I’ll put the orders in the afternoon’s briefing, and it will be announced to all of them directly. This is too important to let them continue to think we don’t know what they get up to.”
And hadn’t that been a vaguely humiliating realization as a young Knight: that there was absolutely no way the Guards hadn’t been aware every single time they had snuck out, or back into, the Temple as a Padawan.
“As for the Knights,” Drallig continued. “Only let them out in groups of at least two: I’ll have the Council put the word out on that, and strongly recommend the same for Masters. I don’t like this at all.”
Drallig was glaring, now, at where the sleeve had disappeared. The Guard understood the sentiment.
Everything felt off-balance, teetering on the edge of something, and it made them antsy, itchy, wanting to move.
“We could try to catch one,” they offered, as casually as they could, as if wilder and wilder plans to do so hadn’t been clogging up the Guard’s message servers most of the day. The last one the Guard had seen before Master Drallig arrived had involved three street tacos, a Wookie, and a can of spray cheese.
Drallig, who definitely had access to those servers, just snorted at them.
“I’m considering it,” he said dryly. “If they’re not hostile, though, I don’t want to make them hostile.”
The Guard sighed. It had been worth a try. And Master Drallig, of course, had a good point. For all their strangeness, and intensity, and clearly furtive action, not a single Guard had reported feeling a sense of imminent danger from their watchers. They were confounding, and frustrating, and this Guard was growing close to desperate with the urge to just grab one of them and shake them until the answers popped out — but as their Master had said, they shouldn’t give into all their impulses, especially not where their curiosity was concerned.
Patience, Padawan; your answers will come in their own time. Trust in the Force.
No matter what their Master might tease they had learned that lesson, thanks. They wouldn’t have taken a position with the Temple Guard if they hadn’t grown into a keen appreciation for stillness, and the patience of a job done slowly and right. It also wasn’t their fault that patience was less satisfying than answers when such an interesting mystery was literally dropped on their doorstep, determined to tease them with bare hints.
The pair lapsed into silence again, watchful and patient, letting the Force flow through them both. The Guard sighed, and reluctantly released the idea of clever traps, or an ambush, or answers. They breathed, releasing worries, opening themselves to the fabric and motion of the universe.
All they got was a trembling anticipation, like a loth-cat crouched to pounce, muscles tensed on the edge of explosive action, the direction yet undetermined.
“...I’m lengthening duty shifts,” Drallig decided, shifting away from the wall he was leaning on, tugging his robes straight and stretching slightly. “No solo watches, not for anyone, not until the worst of this news out of the senate blows over, and we figure out whatever this group wants.”
The Guard bit their lip under their mask, and nodded. Just because they weren’t currently a threat didn’t mean they didn’t have the potential to become one, and quickly.
Just out of sight, the ebb and tide of grief-determination-fear-anger crested. More minds joined the pool of united signatures, converging from multiple directions nearly. The group peaked —- then broke, half of them dispersing back into the blur of Coruscant’s countless minds.
The Guard and Master Drallig traded looks: that was a shift change, as neat as any the Temple Guard had ever performed.
“Stay sharp,” Drallig ordered. “You’ll have a watch partner here in less than 20, and a pair will relieve you at the end of your shift.”
“Yes, Master,” the Guard replied with a shallow bow, and returned to their careful watching.
