After the old, thoroughly rusted partition—crumbling if shifted—stopped being an obstacle to entering the next room after the long winding corridor, Afar felt somewhat uneasy.
He glanced around, hoping his heightened senses were deceiving the Zygerrian.
But no.
Faded paints and luster of grandeur, walls draped in cobwebs, piles of construction debris in the room where no one had cared about repairs for thirty years (or more).
And though faded, still visible to a sharp eye, drawings on cracked and partially flaked plaster on the walls evoked despondency, thus calling for caution; he detected no danger.
Almost.
"You're not serious, are you?" Afar clarified, eyeing Jahan Cross, who, dropping his pack, settled with a satisfied grin on a huge broken construction beam, halved and frozen in a lounger-like pose against the nearest wall.
And this—against signs of clear habitation in the room.
Myriad weapon types, control terminals, sleeping bags, power units, supply of food and meds.
Seems, either it was already a base when Cross and Sagaal Shan arrived separately on Coruscant shortly before Kane's attack, or formed by a Dominion recon team about which Jahan tactfully omitted, as with their goals (beyond finding Blackhole).
"What's wrong with it?" the human clarified, stretching luxuriously. "Don't like the rest spot?"
"It's the Jedi Temple!" Afar scratched fur at his temple with a claw, watching guards and scouts settle for rest, setting "secrets" and posting sentries.
"Yes," came a soft voice from the darkness filling the room's nooks. "It used to be."
Afar, seeing no one present even twitch to react to the Mon Calamari in a dark-brown cloak, under which simple garb showed, decided to stop drawing his blaster from the holster too.
"Let me guess," the Zygerrian snapped fingers in the air, using his index to point at the Mon Calamari. "This is that Jensaarai mentor you mentioned and wanted to introduce me to?"
"Precisely," Jahan nodded. "And where to set up headquarters for agents operating in Imperial territories if not in the place that was a symbol of hope for a bright future and where Imperials definitely won't poke?"
"Indeed," Afar snorted. "How didn't I think of that myself."
After proclaiming the New Order and forming the Galactic Empire, Palpatine used the Jedi Temple as a trap.
Sending a false signal to surviving Jedi to return to the Temple after the Clone Wars ended, the Empire planned to execute survivors of Order Sixty-Six upon homecoming.
As far as the Zygerrian knew, quite a few Jedi fell for this obvious trap, but most survivors, showing prudence often uncharacteristic of Jedi, simply went underground.
Understandable—when contacted via emergency channel from headquarters saying the war's over and the fact your own troops just shot at you unexplained, while normally they'd use holoprojector, doesn't take much smarts to guess you're being led straight to execution.
Afar spent considerable time studying the Order's final days, thinking his Force sensitivity would share the Jedi's tragic fate.
When the Jedi Temple massacre, dubbed in Imperial textbooks nothing less than "Operation: Knights' Fall," ended, the bacchanalia began.
Checking names of the dead against Archives lists, clone troopers dragged Jedi bodies to the Temple's public steps and piled them on an improvised pyre for all passersby to see.
Grand Vizier Sate Pestage prepared a legend for each Jedi narrating the reasons for that member's death at Imperial stormtrooper hands.
Stories so gruesome and absurd, yet embraced by most populace with enthusiasm.
Which only underscores ordinary sentients' attitude toward Order members.
But that's small potatoes...
The Jedi Temple in Imperial times.
"Dragging us here was extremely imprudent," the Zygerrian stated. "This ruin has served as a bogeyman for all Coruscant populace over decades, a reminder of the Emperor's victory over the Jedi. And it's collapsed more than once. I have no desire to wake up buried alive here."
"Don't worry," the Mon Calamari said, approaching almost close enough to Afar and staring with huge fish eyes. "This Temple part appeared millennia ago and is hewn directly into the rock on which the entire structure rests."
"Yeah, tell me about it," the Zygerrian recoiled from the insistent interlocutor. "There's rock under the Temple?"
"Within which great Force is hidden," the Mon Calamari continued in the same mentoring tone. "I think you've already felt it."
Cross watched interestedly until his Sluissi partner plopped beside him.
The pair began conversing about something.
"Already determined I'm Force-sensitive?" Afar eyed the Jedi warily.
"There is Force in you," the Jensaarai stated instead of answering. "Its fire burns brighter than in ordinary sentients."
"Oh, so you'll teach me that hand-waving trick in front of interlocutors' faces?" the Zygerrian inquired.
"I can teach you," the Jedi pointed to a pair of boulders, suggesting they sit. "But it won't help."
"So I'm almost a Jedi," Afar grinned.
"It's not that simple, dear friend," the Mon Calamari stated. "Your Force spark burns bright. But not enough to become a full Jedi."
"You'd be amazed how disappointed I am I can't wear a stylish lightsaber doohickey, useless in combat, and this lovely brown cloak, like stolen off some Lower Levels wretch," the Zygerrian snarked.
To his surprise, the Jedi didn't anger, but smiled.
"You're an agent, aren't you?" he asked.
"Freelancer," Sagaal Shan clarified.
"Pretend I understand what you mean," the interlocutor nodded. No, really, vaunted Jedi sarcasm. "I can help you improve your handling of the Force."
"And why would I want that?" the Zygerrian wondered.
"The Force gives access to abilities many deem unreal," the Mon Calamari stated. "Can't say exactly how training will affect you, but no harm from it—I can guarantee."
"I'll think on such a generous offer," Sagaal Shan smiled strainedly.
"Master," Jahan called. "Alessi has unpleasant news. You should hear it."
The Mon Calamari rose dignifiedly and proceeded to the agent.
Afar followed.
"So, where to start," Suon scratched his nose, the personal tech and gear inventor whose equipment finds its end at lightspeed in Agent Cross's hands.
"From the beginning," Afar advised. "Seems we're all one team, yet I somehow missed the reasons we're holed up in the Jedi Temple. Barely under the Empire's nose. I thought we were seeking a specific sentient here. Turns out there are side tasks."
Cross glanced at Umakk, getting an affirmative nod, then sighed:
"The Empire did much to destroy the Jedi. No need to remind about the 'Jedi scanner'..."
"I was there too," Afar cut off his comrade. "Skip the prelude and get to the interesting part."
"We truly have several missions on Coruscant," the Mon Calamari said. "Agent Cross does his part—seeking who they call Agent Blackhole, yes."
"Checking old Imperial Intelligence hideouts—one way to spot the bastard," Jahan explained.
"Unsuccessfully so far," Afar noted. "But we have experience in sabotage against Pentastar Alignment stormtroopers, and the multi-day trek through Mid and Lower Levels of Imperial Center is forever etched in memory. So we're searching in the Jedi Temple."
"A way to find surviving Jedi," the Mon Calamari said. "And convince them to emerge from hiding, joining the fight against the Empire."
"Ahem," the Zygerrian eyed his comrades probingly. "Seems if such a chance existed, the Empire would've known and used it. With exactly opposite intent."
"Yes," Alessi agreed. "They did use this method to lure Jedi into a trap."
Afar paused seconds, then asked:
"Jedi beacon, huh?"
"Precisely," Bre'ano Umakk confirmed. "During the Clone Wars, every Jedi carried a comlink tuned to the Temple's emergency frequency. Only Jedi knew that frequency and its purpose."
"Judging by chronicles, the pile of Jedi bodies at the Temple entrance, gathered after 'Knights' Fall' operation end, suggests it wasn't such a big secret," the Zygerrian noted.
"We were betrayed," the former Jedi stated. "One of us collaborated with the Emperor and helped destroy his comrades."
"Recalling dozens of Inquisitors, I doubt just one," Afar smirked.
"Be that as it may, back to business," Cross said.
"The Temple's comm system, like everything inside, is heavily damaged," Alessi stated. "Scouts and I inspected the Temple security center. Tons of equipment either destroyed or decayed over time."
"Can we fix it?" Bre'ano asked.
"Anything can be fixed," Alessi stated. "If there are parts and will."
"No issue with the latter," Cross said. "But parts..."
"Here I must say those who condemned Jedi for ostentatious simplicity were right," the Sluissi smirked, glancing at the Mon Calamari before him. "Those terminals and workstations I saw were custom-made or top equipment from years just before the Clone Wars. You get it—costs more than three credits."
"In other words, we have a problem replenishing lost equipment," the Mon Calamari intoned, blinking huge eyes.
"Well, not only, actually," the Sluissi said. "I powered up several beacon system stations from autonomous sources. Feels like they were fried by electricity or hit with an ion cannon—everything runs through seas of errors and software glitches. Need to rewrite a ton of code to start the process. Repair antennas, transmission buses, the impulse transmitter itself needs checking too. Work enough that we'll need minimum weeks to bring it to working model. Assuming we have at least sample code, frequency, to..."
The Sluissi fell silent, seeing the lattice plasteel in the Mon Calamari's massive palm.
"Is that a Republic comlink?" Cross clarified.
"Kept it nearly thirty years," Bre'ano explained. "It has the needed frequency and algorithms."
"Suppose so," the Sluissi instantly seized the old device. "Now remains solving repair or replacement. Random terminals won't do—by the time they do what's needed, we'll be spotted. To avoid Imperial hands, need powerful workstations and high-performance gear. Preferably Imperial. Newer the better."
"Don't think after Imperial bombardment of Republic military bases on Coruscant there's any spot with unused latest-model computers left," Cross said thoughtfully.
"Could steal from Pentastar Alignment stormtrooper bases," Alessi suggested as self-evident.
"Then the 'dolls' will dig up Coruscant's surface to find us," Cross shook head. "They know Republicans left the city. If they learn someone's—and besides enemy, who else—stealing their terminals, total sweeps begin."
"And they'll surely peek in the Jedi Temple," Bre'ano Umakk agreed. "That'd be bad."
"Not as bad as getting stuck on-planet with all we've found," Jahan countered. "After hundreds of Pentastar ships piled in orbit, we can evac only on an invisible ship. But as far as I know, none of us has one handy."
"Then we have plenty time to find needed gear," the Mon Calamari concluded. "We'll make a list of suitable spots..."
Afar eyed his friend.
Meeting eyes, he instantly grasped what the Zygerrian wanted to say.
"No need to poke there," Cross said.
"But there we can find everything needed," Sagaal Shan stated. "In one place."
"And it's full of Imperials," Jahan reminded.
"I think their numbers drop a lot if a dozen or two Republic sabotage groups suddenly manifest on-planet, starting to blow stormtrooper bases, disable tech, and so on," Afar explained his thinking. "Of course, need to wear them down properly so they start sweeps in multiple directions, but don't stumble on our active base inside the Jedi Temple."
"I'd like to know what's being discussed," the Mon Calamari admitted. "Perhaps I can help."
"It's simple," Jahan Cross sighed. "Afar speaks truth. On Coruscant is at minimum one spot where we can get computers and all needed to send Jedi signal. But more Imperials there than decorations and statues."
"And what's this spot?" Alessi Suon asked.
"Imperial Palace," Sagaal Shan explained. "I'd even say I have a plan to make Imperials chase their own tail..."
"And I'm liking your attitude more and more," the Mon Calamari stated. "Wouldn't want to become a survival and recon instructor in the Jensaarai Order?"
The Zygerrian snickered.
He'd thought of something similar himself.
And even understood he'd need to seek patronage from someone.
And here it comes—right into hands.
"You'll need a very big wallet to pay the salary I'll demand," Afar said.
"I think I'll settle that once we succeed," the Mon Calamari assured.
And nothing to object.