I blended into the roaming death squads by stealing the armor and robes of a fallen Brotherhood warrior. As I moved through the smoke and rubble, pretending to be nothing but a simple soldier lost in the chaos, I witnessed the true masters of the Force battling it out. "Fast and flash" was the only way to describe it. The Jedi weren't taking any chances; they double teamed every Dark Side user they found, their blazing lightsabers weaving a web of energy that cut through anything in their path.
And yet, sometimes even this numerical advantage wasn't enough. The Dark Side users had fought for survival every waking hour of their lives, and their raw, jagged instincts helped them snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. I watched as a poor Padawan was kicked away by a Master of the Brotherhood. Even with the Force protecting the boy, I heard his ribs crack with a sickening snap as he flew through the air in a ragged arc.
The Jedi Master and the Dark Side Master continued their lethal dance, ignoring the fallen boy. I moved forward and heaved the Padawan up. To his credit, the kid tried to stagger back into the fight, but I held him back with a grip like durasteel. He looked at me in shock, surprised that a "regular" soldier could restrain him so easily.
"Stay down, kid," I grunted.
I pulled out one of my personal, custom modified grenades and tossed it toward the Dark Side Master. It rolled across the floor, clinking against the stone. Without even turning his head, the Dark Side user flicked his hand to Force push the explosive away, only to be met with a nasty surprise. The grenade gripped the ground with high speed timed claws the moment it touched the floor, refusing to move an inch.
The explosion wasn't enough to kill a Master who wielded the Force like a suit of armor, but the sudden blast caused him to stumble. In that split second of distraction, I reached out with a precise, violent tug of telekinesis and pulled the internal guts right out of his lightsaber. The blade flickered and died.
I let the Padawan go. I expected the Jedi Master to finish the job, but the Dark Side Master was relentless; he threw his useless metal hilt at the Jedi's face and lunged forward, catching the Jedi's wrist before he could be cut down. It was the Padawan who ultimately won the day, sliding forward and slicing the Dark Side Master's arm off. The Jedi Master finished the business with a clean cut through the chest.
After helping the boy, I followed him through the ruins. It was best to be on the winning side, and I knew he wasn't ready to take on another Master alone. If I wasn't willing to engage a Master in a fair fight, this youngster certainly shouldn't. I provided cover with my blaster, fully expecting most shots to be deflected but giving the Padawan vital breathing room whenever he got in too deep.
The Padawan would have been killed five times over if I hadn't been there, a fact he seemed to realize when the fighting finally slowed and he turned to speak to me. The poor kid was fully indoctrinated in the Jedi way, but he had a sharp instinct. He rightly guessed I was Force sensitive and began asking difficult questions, specifically why I wasn't on the official battle manifesto.
"I'm an independent contractor," I weaved the lie effortlessly. "Earning some credits for my own Eden ship. My Master sent me to help clear the debris."
The Padawan's eyes widened. The Eden ships had made noise across the galaxy for feeding the hungry while refusing to bow to either the Jedi or the Brotherhood. But when he asked about my Master's name, I gave him a shock.
"I work for Bee," I said.
"The Bee?" the boy asked. "Is he Force sensitive?"
"That's something you'd have to ask him," I replied. "But don't hold your breath. His lips are sealed tighter than a rancor's butthole."
The Padawan continued to pepper me with questions about my alter ego. It felt incredibly strange talking about myself in the third person, but it was necessary for the ruse.
"What does he like most?" the boy asked.
"Food and wealth," I said simply. "In that order."
The Padawan was soon joined by his Master. I felt the heat of the Jedi Master's gaze, a clinical scrutiny that made me want to reach for a thermal detonator. I was shitting myself; I was a runaway Initiate with a sack full of stolen Holocrons. The only thing stopping the Jedi Master from arresting me on the spot was the shadow of Bee's reputation. Bee's history of using assassins and bounty hunters to protect his interests was legendary. No one wanted to be on Bee's shit list, not even the Jedi Council during a time of reconstruction.
So, while the Jedi Master clearly didn't believe a word of my "independent contractor" story, he gave me leeway. He insisted on accompanying me back to my home base. I saw right through the "honor guard" routine. If I couldn't get into the heavily fortified Eden ship, I'd be taken to Coruscant in binders.
The journey back was the most uncomfortable experience of my life. I could feel the Master's mind probing the edges of my mental shields. I hated it. I knew I couldn't beat him in a duel, but the urge to shove his lightsaber up his backside was growing by the hour.
Entering the orbit of the planet housing my primary Eden ship, I finally felt at ease. The Jedi Master, sitting opposite me, seemed to tense up. He knew Bee was a vengeful, politically powerful jerk who didn't care for Jedi mysticism.
As we landed, the Jedi Master looked warily at my automated defense towers. These beauties could spit out lead tipped explosive rounds at five thousand rounds a minute. I had yet to see a Force user survive a kinetic barrage like that; their lightsabers were meant for bolts, not a cloud of exploding metal.
The Jedi and his Padawan waited in the public greeting hall while I hurried into the private quarters. This was my kingdom. I dumped the sack of Holocrons in a secure vault and zipped into one of my spare fat suits, using the Force to shift my facial features back into the familiar, jolly mask of Bee.
When I finally waddled back out an hour later, the Padawan was stuffing his face with pastries served by a protocol droid, while the Master was meditating.
"Greetings!" I boomed, bouncing across the room and making sure my fat suit wobbled in all the right places.
The Padawan choked on a chocolate cream filled eclair. People were always surprised by how fast I moved for my size. The Jedi Master stood calmly, moving to greet me.
"That's close enough," I said, raising a hand. I wasn't about to let a lightsaber wielding wizard get within striking distance.
I could sense the annoyance prickling at the Master's edges. He expected respect, and Bee didn't give it for free. I waddled over to the bar and mixed a tall, multi colored alcoholic drink, pouring three. I gestured for a droid to serve them.
The Jedi Master declined with a polite hand gesture, and much to the Padawan's heartbreak, declined for the boy as well. I simply shrugged, poured all three drinks into a bucket, and took a massive swig.
"Ahhhh. Waste not, want not," I sighed, slapping my gut. "Soooooo, what do you want?"
I felt the Jedi's frustration spike. To his credit, his control was impressive.
"Sir Bee," the Jedi began.
"Just Bee is fine," I interrupted.
The Jedi sighed and began to explain that they were concerned about an "unregistered Force sensitive" sneaking into a war zone. I listened, interrupting only with long, slow slurps from my bucket.
"Let me get this straight," I said after a long silence. "The Jedi wiped out the Brotherhood, destroyed their bases, and plundered their loot. Congrats are in order, I suppose."
Before he could respond, I waved my droid over. "Unit 5, tell my salvage team to partner with two of the major firms. Head to the old Brotherhood territories and claim as much as they can. Dump the scrap in the usual place. Also, call the bureaucrats. See if there are cheap planets for sale. I don't care if they've been glassed."
I wasn't done. "Send Eden ships and cheap food to the area. Use my favors with the pirates to protect the routes. Tell them there's plenty of loot for everyone. And liquidate our insurance shares. Invest heavily in construction and raw resources. Oh, and tip off the Hutts. It's good business to spread the wealth."
The Padawan's mouth hung open. The Jedi Master was frowning deeply. I had just used the sensitive military intelligence he'd given me to launch a massive, profitable corporate expansion right in front of him.
"So sorry," I smiled, swirling my bucket. "Just a little bit of business."
The Jedi Master ignored the blatant opportunism and moved back to his complaint. He heavily insinuated that a monetary "punishment" was due for my apprentice's presence at the battle.
"You want to punish my boy?" I asked. "I think you'll find his privateering paperwork is triple signed and perfectly legal. He was there for the salvage. Instead of a fine, shouldn't you reward him for saving your Padawan five separate times?"
The silence was deafening. Jedi egos were notoriously fragile when it came to admitting they needed help from "unfiltered" individuals.
I sighed dramatically and offered an olive branch. "I understand why you're really here. Resources. You need to feed the sectors you just 'liberated'."
I pulled out a holographic map. "The Savareen sector needs three hundred million tons of food aid. I'll give you a two percent discount."
"Thirty percent," the Jedi countered instantly.
I looked at him like he was insane. "I won't ask my suppliers to take a loss. My allies stay fat and happy, and my enemies stay scared. That's the rule. Two percent comes out of my pocket. That's six million tons of free food, plus free transport. I'm giving you something for nothing."
"Four percent, and the Jedi will handle distribution," the Master demanded.
He wanted the credit for the charity. I was fine with that. The trade routes I was about to open would pay for this a thousand times over.
"Deal," I said, handing over a recording of the agreement.
As I watched them leave, I overheard the Padawan asking how his Master had "fooled" me into giving up twelve million tons of food.
The Master leaned in close to the boy. "First, your math is still terrible, Padawan. Second, whatever discount Mister Bee gives will be earned back tenfold by the end of the day. It is only a matter of time before he owns a corner of the galaxy for himself."
The Padawan didn't understand. He followed the Jedi way, where credits were an afterthought. But the Master knew better. He had tried to use a mind trick on me during the negotiation and had been battered back every single time. He probably suspected the truth, but in a galaxy this messy, a profitable ally was better than a dangerous enemy.
I watched their ship disappear into the clouds and took another swig from my bucket. It was time to get to work on that Dyson swarm.
"Would you like me to start the formal acquisition process for the glassed territories, or should I first organize the decryption of your newly acquired Holocrons?"