Live Fire: Hair-Trigger

[Pierce Tondry]

The ultimate determinant in the struggle now going on for the world will not be bombs and rockets but a test of wills and ideas-a trial of spiritual resolve: the values we hold, the beliefs we cherish and the ideals to which we are dedicated.

-Ronald Reagan


######

The Temple of the Order of the Jedi towered over buildings both shorter and taller than itself through the unmistakeable stature given it in the minds of those who saw it. Were the building a human, it would possess a proud and noble bearing.

Today, it also featured the signs of a small attack.

The noonday sun shone into Pierce's eyes, falling through the gaping hole in the Temple's wall. He took a step towards the hole, and then another, careful not to disturb the bits and pieces of speeder that were strewn about. Then he knelt, and sniffed the floor.

Thermite.

The crash was only a diversionary tactic, then. Designed to lure attention to itself and then surprise whoever came with the bombs. Had Pierce been anywhere nearby, he would have undoubtedly followed his investigative instincts and gotten caught. Lilaena tailored the attack well.

Too well, ironically. The other Jedi did not possess Pierce's instincts. None of them even entered the room.

But the same unpreparedness that saved the lives of everyone concerned allowed for the kidnapping of Pierce's son Jax.

Pierce closed his eyes, doing his absolute best to shove the hollow feeling down, or away. Jax meant more than worlds to him. Even his sense for the well-being of others that came from years of military discipline could not blunt his grief in any way.

A light crunch came from behind Pierce, perking his ears but not igniting any of the combat reflexes or Jedi senses better circumstances would bring on. Instead, he continued to stare out the hole, as though it were the physical representation of the wound he felt inside.

Behind him there was another hesitant step. Whoever it was clearly did not want to intrude, but they wanted his attention nonetheless.

Well, they've got it now. "What is it?"

[Figrin D'an]

"I though you might be here, Pierce," Figrin answered quietly. Caution in both words and actions was the Jedi Master's demenor. He was hesitant to even approach the man so soon after what could only be described as a tragedy in his life. His son yet lived, that much was certain. But that Jax was torn from Pierce not by something as definitive as death, but by means of an abduction that could have... should have... been prevented, it was undoubtedly like a knife stuck in his side, burning with a pain that could not be soothed.

Figrin himself had still not yet come to terms with what had occured either. He never secumbed to anger, but he was shaken and upset. He wanted those responsible brought to justice. He wanted the Jedi to realize that the threat to them was as real as ever. Most of all... he wanted to see Pierce reunited with his son. Lilaena De'Ville may have been Jax's mother, but she had given herself to the Dark Side, and in Figrin's mind, that meant she was a danger to the boy. There was no waiver in his resolve in that respect. The Jedi would find them both, and set right all that was gone awry. They had to. The alternative was unthinkable.

"I've spoken with the Council," Figrin said at last. "We've developed a plan to send several teams of Jedi to follow every lead that comes up. We're also looking into what kind of assistance we can get from the Republic."

"Although, I'm sure your Intelligence connections probably help even more so," he added, somewhat defeated. He wanted to show Pierce that the Jedi weren't sitting on their hands, being overly contemplative like the common stereotype would have most people believe. He wanted to offer whatever support he could. But their hands were tied, both by the flawless execution of the abduction and by the simple fact that the Jedi were completely unprepared to handle such a situation efficiently.

"I... just thought you should know."

It was so uncharacteristic for the Jedi Master to be at such a loss for words, or so unsure of how to communicate with one of his fellow Jedi. He felt small and inadequate, trying to understand what Pierce was now experiencing and offer any sort of comfort.

"I owe you an apology," Figrin blurted out, without really thinking.

[Pierce Tondry]

"You and the rest of the Council," Pierce said quietly. "My first day here I found security holes a normal humanoid could slip through. I saw them exploited. I pushed to have them taken care of. And what response did I get?"

Pierce drew himself up and put on a prissy expression. "Your suggestions are appreciated, but the Jedi have their own safety well in hand, young Padawan."

He turned away from Figrin and back to the hole. "Seems that their safety doesn't extend to my son."

Without planning to, Pierce suddenly hit the wall with his fist. "You know what really tears me up inside? I believed you all. I let myself think we were safe when I knew otherwise."

And this big hole is all I have to show for my beliefs.

"I was a fool."

[Figrin D'an]

"We were the bigger fools, for not listening to you; for not seeing a weakness and for not seeing our own complaceny," Figrin answered regretfully. "And I was fool for allowing those things to happen."

Figrin carried a personal responsibility, justified or not, for all that had occured. He was supposed to be wise. He was supposed to be a leader among the leaders of the Jedi. It was his responsibility to ensure that those under Jedi protection were safe. And he had failed, because of his own arrogance and presumption.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, or any of us," the Jedi Master said, his voice subdued. Finding it difficult to look at Pierce, he simply stared at the ground some distance in front of him. "But I also don't want to completely lose your trust."

More so than that, Figrin didn't want to lose Pierce himself, as either a Jedi or as a friend. The situation was a tailor-made setup for tempation from the Dark Side. It could be so easy, in the face of the heartbreak of losing a child in such a way, to abandon all that one had learned in favor of the quick power necessary for vengence. Pierce would be tested, that much Figrin knew for certain. He couldn't know, however, what the intelligence operative turned Jedi would decide. All he could do was try to steer him in the right direction. That would start with rebuilding the trust Pierce has once placed in the Jedi Order.

"The Council and all the Jedi are going to do everything within their power your son and bring him home. I know that may not mean much to you right now. It may not mean much to you later, either."

Figrin finally looked up and at Pierce's face.

"But know that I want to make this right, for you and Jax, and for all of us. Not as a Council member or as a Jedi, but as a friend who needs to right a wrong. Pierce, I swear to you that I will not rest until all is as it should be."

[Pierce Tondry]

"In my world, there are no corrections." Pierce began quietly, but his words gathered speed and heat as he spoke them. "An Intel op is either successful or not. There are no guarantees of success, only a chance, and once that chance is gone it does not come back. Failure is permanent and it costs lives."

Pierce bit his last word off and spun away, his face stone. A memory of Jax at play in the Order's gardens flittered across his thoughts. "My boy was my life."

"Now he's gone." Pierce's eyes were cold and hard as he turned back to Figrin. And so is that life.

Figrin didn't react openly; a tensing around the eyes and tightening of the lips was all the effect his words had on the Jedi Master. But Pierce knew his words had cut Figrin where none could see, and for the first time, he didn't care.

He walked past Figrin, heading for the door, when Figrin stopped him with a question. "Where are you going?"

"Intel considers most hit-and-fade trails that don't get picked back up within twenty-four hours cold," Pierce answered without turning around. "The likelihood of picking it back up again in a galaxy of this size without other hard evidence is just too remote. So if I don't find Lilaena's trail within that time, no one probably will."

"Only one chance to get it right."

[Figrin D'an]

As Pierce turned away to leave, Figrin wanted to reach out to stop him, to prevent him from making a mistake by acting while still fueled by his emotions. At the very least, Figrin didn't want the Knight out there on his own in such a dangerous time for him. The Jedi Master's instinct was to not let him go, even if it meant a confrontation.

But then he realized that he couldn't do that. He couldn't... he shouldn't hold the Intel op back from this journey. Something in the Force told him that it wasn't right to interfere. It went against everything that his Jedi teachings told him, but it had to be done. This is his test, something seemed to say. It is a path that he must follow...

Perhaps that was true. Perhaps this was a ripple in the Force that could not yet be completely perceived. There was a destiny for all, and rarely was it clear cut or understood. Perhaps Pierce was meant to face this alone.

"Pierce!," Figrin called in a strong yet calm voice, without moving from his spot. The Knight stopped, but did not turn around to look at the Jedi Master, instead shallowly glancing over his shoulder, acknowledging the call in the barest of manners.

Figrin paused, struggling to find words to impart, before finally saying the simplest yet most important of phrases.

"Be careful."

With that, Pierce Tondry stepped out of his destroyed quarters, and onto a path that would take him into the unknown.

Figrin stood alone amonst the rubble, staring at the empty doorway for a short time. He sighed, and lowered his head.

"And May The Force Be With You," he said quietly.

[Pierce Tondry]

Rifle; check.

It was like preparing for the mission of his life.

Spare clips; check. Collapseable short pike; check. Reactive blast vest; check.

As he'd said to Figrin, there were never any second chances. Somehow that felt particularly true today. Carelessness could not be allowed to enter in.

Rations; check. Water check. Lightsaber-

Pierce swallowed involuntarily. Something about bringing such a symbolic weapon on this hunt was wrong. 'But you never know what you'll need.'

The lightsaber went inside his vest, out of sight. Pierce turned to the rest of his gear.

Gas grenades; check. Thermite packs; check. Ko'barra; check.

Pierce took a moment to coat the exotic knife with a fresh layer of biotoxin before sheathing it. Then he sat back. He had everything he could possibly need.

That was it. It was time to go.

Pierce stood and took a look around the Coruscant penthouse apartment he'd maintained since his days in ImpIntel. The memories here were all from a more violent time, when he'd believed philosophically that the Republic were merely rebels unlawfully usurping power. In this room, he'd ordered tactical strikes on power facilities, military installations. Here, cloaked dignitaries once forged agreements built on durasteel and blood.

Here, Jax Tondry was conceived.

Pierce moved to the exit door. With each step, a lifetime of learning how to find, hurt, and destroy got closer to his former wife. All the violence she had wrought would now be visited on her, all the pain and suffering-

Pierce opened the door, revealing four men fully armed in tactical gear similar to his own, and a fifth, in military dress, with the medals of a Colonel. "Major Tondry," he said. "I've been authorized to use all necessary force to bring you in for a meeting with the psychological evaluation staff at CorOps HQ. Please do not resist."

For Pierce, the next few moments were merely moments of surprise and frustration and he spent them kicking himself for being so internally focused that he'd missed the vibrations these men made in the Force. He hadn't expected to be caught here, but knew instantly the consequences of such a capture would be hours of delay. His twenty-four hour clock would not afford that.

Not that they have enough force here to stop me.

But that was wrongheaded thinking. These soldiers were doing their duty. They did not deserve what he would be forced to do to them in the name of investigating his son's disappearance. This delay, overwhelmingly frustrating as it was, would just have to be borne out.

Pierce slowly extended his arms, proffering the rifle butt-first to his captor. The Colonel nodded as he accepted the weapon, then gestured to his men. One man bound his extended arms with fibercord while a second began stripping him of every weapon on his person.

With a final jerk, Pierce's restraints became uncomfortably tight. Then they pushed him in the direction of the outside balcony, where he could see an armored transport and five more armed men waiting. "I didn't realize I was a prisoner," he commented.

"You're not," the Colonel replied, but his tone held no reassurance. "We just don't want to take any chances with your current state of mind."

Pierce managed to lock eyes with him in spite of being herded. "If I were rogue, none of you five would have left that hallway."

The Colonel tried to hold his gaze, but failed. "Get him going," he ordered.

They shoved him into the transport and locked the door.