Escorted by four gunships, the shuttle slowly descended onto the landing platform before the Jedi Temple.
During the flight, Solo sat quietly in his seat, trying to minimize his presence. Given his sensitive position, drawing attention was unwise. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice him.
Yoda and Windu sat with their eyes closed, deep in meditation, their bodies radiating an aura of solemnity.
Amidala and Anakin huddled together, whispering and exchanging glances.
Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat, seemingly dozing or meditating.
The other Jedi were each preoccupied with their own thoughts, struggling to conceal their inner anxieties.
As Solo gazed out the window at the Temple's spires gliding past, he could only marvel at its grandeur. The Jedi Temple far surpassed his wildest imaginings.
He couldn't recall exactly who had commissioned its construction, but the builders clearly had unlimited resources. The plaza before the Temple alone could easily accommodate six Hailfire-class landing ships.
The Temple itself covered approximately ten square kilometers, with four towering spires soaring four kilometers into the sky. Sunlight streamed down on the silver-white spires, reflecting a dazzling radiance that left him speechless.
After landing, the Masters dispersed to attend to their duties. Skywalker and Obi-Wan headed straight for the medical wing, clearly eager to fit Skywalker with his prosthetic limbs.
Amidala hurried off, likely to change her clothes and touch up her makeup before heading to the Senate. As a senator, her public image was paramount.
Solo remembered vividly that Padmé would later secretly return to Naboo with Anakin, where they would hold a private wedding ceremony for just the two of them.
In the end, Solo found himself alone on the landing platform.
No one came to greet him. The clone troopers who had escorted the transport ship returned to their barracks, and the summer sun beat down on his head. The silence was unnerving, as if the brutal battle on Geonosis had never happened.
As he entered the Jedi Temple, memories from the original owner of this body flooded his mind, flashing through his consciousness like a kaleidoscope.
The awe he had felt when first stepping beneath the Temple's towering dome.
The scenes of him sitting with other younglings, listening to their instructor recount the millennia-long history of the Jedi Order.
The nervous excitement of gripping a training lightsaber for the first time.
The humiliation of being knocked to the ground during his first sparring match.
Huddling with friends, discussing what kind of lightsaber they would assemble in the future... Too many memories were intertwined with this place. No wonder so many Jedi considered the Temple their home.
Solo suppressed the surging emotions and headed straight for the Technical Logistics Department, which the Jedi more commonly referred to as the "Warehouse."
He needed to seize the opportunity while the Warrior Order was still reeling from the aftermath of the battle to quickly acquire some practical supplies and update his wardrobe.
The original owner's clothes had either been destroyed in the battle or were too worn to be suitable for the upcoming conflicts.
Finding his way wasn't difficult. His body's muscle memory acted like a compass, clearly guiding him.
He slowed his pace, offering silent nods of acknowledgment to other Jedi he encountered in the corridors.
Most mechanically returned the gesture, their gazes lingering a few extra seconds on his bandage-wrapped body. Some even paused to watch him pass.
"Hey, Solo! Stop! Did you hear me? Stop!" An angry female voice suddenly called out from behind him, its tone harsh and vaguely familiar.
Solo turned to see a Devaronian woman striding purposefully toward him.
Zio Kadish, his original body's classmate.
Her appearance closely resembled that of a human woman, with a few key differences: two dark, horn-like protrusions on her forehead, tufts of fur along the edges of her ears that twitched like a lynx's ear tips, and facial features that were sharper and more angular than those of human women.
They had entered the Jedi Temple around the same time. Zio had always been assertive, often bossing others around. This wasn't surprising, given that Devaron was a matriarchal society where women held positions of dominance.
Following Zio was Slyth Cavendish, a Rodian youth and a friend of Solo's original body.
Like all Rodians, Slyth had green skin, large compound eyes, tubular ears, and a prominent snout.
Fortunately, Solo's original body had grown up interacting with various alien species, so he was already accustomed to these unusual appearances and felt no discomfort in close proximity.
Qiao stopped a few steps away from Solo, her gaze lingering on his bandages and visible wounds. She hesitated for a moment before striding forward, grabbing his arm, and dragging him into a dead-end alcove beside the corridor.
Solo didn't resist. He knew that convincing this headstrong woman would be harder than teaching a Rancor to dance the Utapau Jig.
"Spill it!" Qiao demanded, planting her hands on her hips and leaning in urgently. "We just got back from an off-world mission to find half the Temple empty! No one knows where you went, and the rumors are flying—each one more absurd than the last! You were there, so tell me the truth... Why did you all suddenly disappear? Why are so few of you back? What *exactly* happened? And what's with those strange soldiers in white armor?"
"Yes, friend, you must tell us everything," Slyth added, his compound eyes fixed on Solo with genuine concern.
Solo sighed, deciding to simplify the truth. He couldn't reveal his identity as a "transmigrator," nor could he disclose the secrets of the Sith and Order 66.
From the original owner's perspective, he briefly recounted the events.
Master Windu had suddenly summoned nearly all the adult Jedi in the Temple, delivering a speech about "saving our brethren and defending the Republic." Afterward, they boarded transports and headed to Geonosis, where a brutal battle ensued. Many never returned.
"So... what happens now?" Qiao's voice lowered, tinged with unease.
Solo shrugged, his tone calm but heavy. "War is coming."
"Damn it!" Qiao's voice rose sharply, her agitation clear. "The Jedi are guardians of peace in the galaxy, not soldiers! We should be maintaining the balance of the Force, not provoking conflict! I'll never accept this!"
"Then what do you propose we do?" Solo frowned, suddenly remembering that after the Battle of Geonosis, over a thousand Jedi had left the Order in protest against its involvement in the war.
Could these two be among the "exiles"? And were they trying to recruit him to join them?
"If the Warrior Order refuses to abandon its policy of blind obedience to the Senate, we have no choice but to withdraw in protest!" Qiao's voice trembled with emotion. "This is the wisest and most righteous decision!"
Slyth nodded in agreement. "The Jedi Council's recklessness will destroy the Warrior Order's ideals. We must leave."
*Damn it...* Solo cursed inwardly.
According to the original owner's memories, Qiao and Slyth were good people. During their training, they had been close friends, and the memories of their shared training sessions and late-night conversations still carried a warmth.
But he couldn't go with them. Leaving the Temple would only make his survival during the future Order 66 even more precarious.
"We?" Solo emphasized the word, shaking his head. "I can't go with you. War is inevitable. All I can do is try to survive it and protect those I care about."
"Brainless, blind Banu!" Qiao jabbed Solo's chest with her finger, her gaze burning as if she wanted to pin him to the wall, as if he had committed some unforgivable crime. "You're just the kind of person who blindly follows the Council's orders! Haven't you suffered enough? Do you want to die for this corrupt Republic? Suit yourself!"
With that, she whirled around, shooting Solo one last furious glare, and strode swiftly down the corridor.
Slyth sighed sadly, turning to Solo. "Think about it, Solo. You must ultimately choose your own path."
He then turned and hurried after Qiao.
"This is... quite something," Solo muttered, standing rooted to the spot, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
He knew his choice was right, yet he couldn't shake a lingering sense of loss. Having just arrived in this world, he had already lost his "original" friends.
Lost in thought, Solo unconsciously drifted to the warehouse entrance.
The moment he pushed open the door, he was utterly stunned by the sight before him. Ali Baba's treasure cave paled in comparison to this place.
The warehouse was far larger than he had imagined, spanning thousands of square meters. Within this vast space, hundreds upon hundreds of shelves stood in neat rows, piled high with boxes and bags of every description. From small parts and tools to portable medical equipment, everything imaginable was here.
An unspoken rule governed this place: members of the Jedi Order were forbidden from owning private property, but any Jedi could freely claim items from the warehouse, provided they could reasonably justify their need.
In essence, large equipment like cruisers couldn't be casually requisitioned, but clothing, tools, consumables, and similar supplies could be easily obtained with a valid reason.
"What wind blew you in, warrior?"
A nasal voice suddenly rang out.
Solo looked up and saw a Toydarian emerging from behind the shelves.
He was the warehouse manager, an external hire by the Warrior Order.
This manager had taken "meticulous" to the extreme. The items on the shelves were clearly categorized, the labels were easily readable, and even the floor was spotless, as if he had maxed out both a hamster's hoarding instincts and a toad's meticulous patience.
Solo composed himself and began stating his needs.
The original owner of this body belonged to the Balance Order and rarely left the Temple, so his pack contained almost no equipment for wilderness survival or combat.
But to survive the coming war, Solo needed every item on his list.
He listed them one by one: a durable tactical jacket, a multi-pocketed tool belt, portable energy bars, an emergency medical kit, spare lightsaber batteries, a compact communicator... As the list grew longer, the warehouse manager's initial surprise turned to admiration. By the time Solo finished, the manager even whistled. "Well, well, it's been a while since someone came to me with such a 'comprehensive' list. Wait here, I'll see how much I can gather for you."