Onderon, Japrael System
Japrael Sector
Padmé Amidala hoped she looked more composed than she felt as she and the rest of the Republic delegation followed an aide into the great hall of Ov Taraba–Onderon’s largest and oldest university. History seemed alive in these walls, with a gentle breeze whistling through carved stone arches like wandering spirits. Murals and busts of ancient kings and heroes gazed down upon them, as if in judgement of worthiness.
Unlike her, the Jedi–Anakin included–were doing a far poorer job of hiding their unease, though for far different reasons than her. Despite not being a fault of its own, the security details of both parties had entered the summit on the rather pessimistic premise that something would go wrong, that someone would try to prevent the summit from going forward. From a logical standpoint, as it was, the moment with the greatest possibility of that event was the prisoner exchange, which was the most public affair of the whole ordeal.
And yet, everything went smoothly.
As the summit reached its final days, the timeframe for the event to occur was shortening, and nerves were tightening in response.
“Have you tried unwinding, Master Jedi?” Padmé’s suggestion was half-directed at herself, despite being intended for their mystic security detail, “Such stress must not be good for the body. I heard Master Skywalker had helped the Royal Army apprehend a terrorist group in the city; surely that means the threat has passed?”
“Be it as it may, Senator,” Master Kenobi smiled kindly, “We would rather not lower our guard until the armistice has been signed by all parties.”
“The Separatists have been nothing but agreeable hosts thus far,” Padmé scolded lightly, “This level of distrust is what prevented the galaxy from ending the war before it began in the first place. Are we incapable of believing the Separatists could treat in good faith?”
“I think the Jedi are alluding to a third party getting involved, Padmé, not the Separatists themselves,” Bail said, “There are many powers, known and unknown to us, that want the war to keep going.”
“There has been absolutely no sign of that,” Bana Breemu pointed out, “Might I remind us of why Onderon’s candidacy was looked upon so favourably? Any offending party would not only have to travel through both Republic and Separatist space and orbital patrols, before landing at the only starport on the planet, of which no more than a hundred ships berth each day.”
“All that does is separate the amateur bounty hunters from the professionals,” Anakin scoffed lightly.
“Please,” Master Plo Koon mediated, “As your security detail, it is our duty to be worried. The sooner this armistice is signed, the sooner you can prove our concerns unwarranted.”
“On that, we can all agree, Master Jedi,” Bail Organa straightened as the opposite entrance opened, “Looks like we can begin.”
The entry of the Separatist delegation largely mirrored their’s, with a core of senators orbited by satellite officials and third parties with their own stakes in the peace. The Refugee Relief Movement was one such instance, as were numerous journalists and correspondents from both sides, most prominently from the Hyper-Communications Cartel. They took their places on opposite sides of a long stone table, laden with a bounty of refreshments and glistening decanters of both wine and water.
“I’m sure we can do away with the introductions,” Mina Bonteri started abruptly in her blunt way, “We had many days to familiarise ourselves with each other, I think we can agree. It occurred to me, my friends, that this is a case of the less formality, the better. We have done away with the theatrics; there are no cameras in Ov Taraba. If you won’t take a Separatist’s word for it, take Onderonian obstinacy. The dean was quite resolute on that matter.”
The words had their intended effect. Other than prompting some surprise from the Republic delegation, the drop of humour had completely defused the mounting electricity between them–not to mention settled the butterflies in Padmé’s stomach.
“I do have a certain structure in mind,” Mina continued, pulling out her chair, “But with your agreement, I'd prefer to allow frank discussion among all the participants, instead of the standard procedure where we simply repeat our formal positions to one another over and over until the our war is not with each other, but what will be the merciful cradle of sleep.”
“That is agreeable to us, Senator,” Bail Organa retained the serene, patrician air around him impressively, but Padmé had known her friend too long to mistake the slight smile he couldn’t fully suppress dancing about his lips, “I hope our efforts won’t be disappointing.”
As they took their seats, a tall man standing behind Mina’ shoulder stepped forward softly, his purple cape whispering against the ground, “Will the Master Jedi be sitting at the table?”
Padmé could not say she had eyes on the back of her head, but she nevertheless recognised the stiffening of muscles as the Jedi recognised the man. She inspected him closely, finding that a craned neck was required, and found him a fair, if utterly androgynous Onderonian. If it were not for his voice, perhaps there might have been a tinge of uncertainty, setting eyes upon their form for the first time.
“Ah!” Mina exclaimed, a controlled tint of bashfulness injected into her voice, “Pardon me, I had forgotten–may I introduce Admiral Rain Bonteri of the Confederate Navy? I’m afraid he has been occupied with developments outside Iziz. He will be joining us today, as a representative of the office of our Supreme Commander.”
She could see it. Rain Bonteri carried a tired fog around him, and glassy eyes that strangely reminded Padmé of a dead fish’s. Despite that, without mention he would be easy to miss. Rain Bonteri was a name greater than the man himself–Padmé decided–all the defenders of Columex were. Names with no faces to put to them; Rain Bonteri, Calli Trilm, Diedrich Greyshade; their efforts overshadowed by the likes of General Tann and Admiral Trench. And yet if it had not been for their valiant defence, she would not be sitting in this chair.
It is a good thing we now seek peace, Padmé thought. All this time the ranks of the military have been dominated by the Core Worlds, but the stars know how many brilliant minds and soldiers lay dormant in the Rim, with never the opportunity to reveal their talents. War changed a lot of things.
“A blood relation?” Bana Breemu raised a manicured eyebrow.
“None,” Mina said curtly, and nothing else.
“The man who defended Columex until the Pantoran arrived to save the day,” Senator Darsana of Glee Anselm leaned back, “Could you satiate my curiosity? Did it incense you to discover that General Tann’s late arrival had largely overshadowed your efforts, and had used the battle you fought to elevate her position?”
A small smirk emerged on Admiral Bonteri’s face, as if in response to a joke privy to only them–and he replied with a joke of his own; “General Tann made me an admiral, so I’m sure you’d understand if I can’t say anything…”
A round of chuckles rippled on the table as official after official shared the words to the person next to them. Padmé finally allowed herself to relax a little, and exercise her eyes by observing her surroundings. Some senators were already helping themselves to the table’s offerings, while journalists standing away bore a mild confusion on their expressions. No cameras meant the galaxy couldn’t react in real time, and would have to instead rely on the articles these journalists author.
No doubt they were expecting a passionate, fiery debate, one to capture the imagination and attention. Not some subdued, friendly gathering one could expect more of a family on the night of the Festival of Lights, rather than what should be bitter enemies. Padmé could confidently say she was glad to betray their expectations.
Despite the mirth shared across the seats, however, Senator Darsana remained as smileless as the stone busts outside the hall.
“Of course, Admiral,” he rested his elbows on the table, “And mind if I ask why the Separatist Army requires a representative? Surely Separatist egalitarianism doesn’t extend to the armed forces as well?”
There was a hint of derisiveness to the end of the rhetoric, and Bana Breemu exhaled slightly at it. Oh dear, Padmé thought as she recognised the dangerous glint in Mina’s eye, the very same glint that always occurs whenever she was just fed ammunition by her own opponent. Bail pretended to wipe his face of sweat, though from her seat beside him, she could tell he was clearly hiding a quirked lip.
“Oh, that’s a very good question, my dear,” Mina drawled, “Might I refer you to a minute ago when the Admiral asked politely if the Jedi Order is to have a seat at this table? Ah… I also mustn’t begin to presume why you thought bringing children would contribute any meaningful debate to our negotiations… or perhaps did you mistake this conference for a school trip?”
Senator Darsana could have been mistaken for a droid, by how bolted onto his chair he appeared, staring at Mina with opaque eyes. Notwithstanding the glares brought down on the back of his head by the Jedi, as the two apprentices bristled against the perceived insults.
“The Confederate Armed Forces will not be participating in the negotiations, not make any demands, and will obey the outcome of the armistice without debate,” Admiral Bonteri said quietly, as continued holding his gaze towards the Jedi, “I am only here to observe, and offer my perspective when requested or required. Now, will the Master Jedi be sitting at the table?”
“That will not be required,” Master Plo Koon said smoothly, “The Jedi Order will not be participating either. We are only here to observe.”
“Good!” Separatist Senator Tyreca Bremack snapped in ill-concealed impatience, “In that case, will the Republic delegation begin sketching out for us what the Supreme Chancellor and Republic Senate might view as the terms of a sensible and agreeable peace settlement? Nothing to end the war definitively, just the broad requirements to end the fighting.”
The easy atmosphere was forced down once more. This is where it begins, Padmé decided, pleasantly surprised that the likes of Tyreca Bremack would so easily concede the initiative to the Republic. Senator Bremack of the Lahara Sector once served in the Republic senate, before seceding to the Separatist Alliance. She was not alone in this, of course, but what made the Lahara Sector’s secession so memorable was its Senator’s speech. While most sectors preferred to tender the Articles of Secession as inconspicuously as possible, Senator Bremack did so right in the middle of a public session.
"I have no doubt that many of my colleagues here have no idea where the Lahara Sector is. They couldn't even find it on a map if their careers depended on it, but we've been burdened with high taxes and little to show for it for too long. Perhaps now you'll notice us, if only for our absence!"
Even now, Padmé could feel the bubble of shame threatening to burst in her chest at the remembrance of that speech, at the exact moment she realised she was one of those ‘colleagues’ who had no idea where the Lahara Sector was.
Padmé looked side to side, gauging her colleague’s demeanors in order to judge the best way to proceed. Should they seize the diplomatic initiative Senator Bremack had given them, which might eke out better terms for the Republic, or respond with a concession of their own for a better long-term relationship with the Separatists?
Bail edged his chin down slightly.
“Allow me to begin, ladies and gentlemen,” Padmé started, folding her hands on her lap, “By saying that both the Chancellor and Senate are fully aware that the view of who's truly responsible for the conflict between our two nations aren't the same in the Confederacy and Republic.”
A few of the more hardline loyalist Republic delegates were already bristling back at the step back, but Padmé found it well worth it when she saw the Separatists leaning forward, their interest peaked when she caught the diplomatic ball and returned it. It’s a good start, Padmé decided, we just need to keep this up.
“As such, allow me to concede that the Republic must bear its shame for the diplomatic failure on Geonosis which led to the outbreak of outright hostilities between us–” before Padmé could continue, a Separatist senator scoffed loudly.
“Diplomatic failure!?” Senator Esu Rotsinu of Abrion Sector exclaimed, “Let me be frank, Senator Amidala; I think no one in this room can deny that the Republic actually fired the first shots of this war when the Jedi Order and its Clone Army launched the Battle of Geonosis. Believe me, we in the Confederacy are rightly justified in thinking that the Republic is fully responsible for the war, especially when diplomatic recourse was still available until that point.”
“Let us not forget that the decision was not lightly taken,” Bail Organa admonished mildly, “Your Head of State, Count Dooku, had unlawfully detained two Jedi and a senator of the Republic–all three of whom, may I remind, are present before you right now.”
“All three of whom were complicit in espionage, and caught red-handed,” Tyreca Bremack narrowed her eyes at Padmé herself.
“You speak of diplomatic recourse, Senator Rotsinu,” Bana Breemu demurred sweetly, “Yet the Separatists pursued none of it. Espionage or not, Senator Amidala and the Jedi could have stood trial as was their right, in either Republic or Separatist justice systems. Count Dooku had instead individually decided to execute them via Geonosian bloodsport. Do we, perhaps, have differing definitions of ‘diplomatic recourse?’”
Before the argument could escalate, a dusky skinned Separatist senator laid her palm flat on the table without a soft tap, catching their attention.
“I think, ladies and gentlemen,” Senator Tawni Ames of Desix spoke softly, but meaningfully, “That Senator Amidala had already established that both sides had made their fair share of poor decisions that resulted in open conflict. Shall we stop quibbling like children and move past that? Senator Amidala, what are the Republic’s conditions?”
Padmé forced down the terrible memories of Geonosis as an echo of bleak satisfaction quivered around the Republic side of the table at Senator Breemu getting the last word in, and she met Mina’s gaze, before nodding very slightly to her.
She breathed in, sampling the whirlwind emotions behind the outwardly calm and attentive faces of everybody present, before breathing out slowly.
“The Republic’s bottom line is the complete termination of hostilities on the Northern, Western, and Southern Fronts, with the complete evacuation of all military forces within five-hundred parsecs on both sides of the current frontline, resulting in a one-thousand parsec demilitarised zone, in which the Refugee Relief Movement can operate without harassment or molestation,” Padmé began, with Breha Organa nodding in gratitude down the table.
Hushed discussion fluttered on the Separatist side, ebbing and flowing as delegates traded agreements and disagreements, until Mina Bonteri finally cleared her throat–
“And what about the currently contested worlds, and worlds under siege?” she asked, tapping the table.
“All sieges will be lifted,” Bail stated firmly, “And all attackers on contested worlds must withdraw. The Republic also demands the cessation of any and all letters of marque and reprisal to privateers, corsairs, bounty hunters, and any private person not under the immediate jurisdiction to a government-sanctioned military body.”
Mina half-turned to check for Admiral Bonteri’s input, who didn’t seem to expect the sudden influx of attention, despite the obvious implication that the letters of marque were under the Separatist Army’s purview.
“That is…” the Admiral frowned, “Perfectly agreeable.”
Mina clapped, “The Confederacy of Independent Systems concedes to all of the Republic’s demands. Now, let us give our own demands.”
Padmé tensed, casting a worried glance to her colleagues. She couldn’t help it; Mina Bonteri may be her friend, but right now they were on opposite sides of the table. For the Separatist delegation to so easily capitulate meant the Republic hadn’t hit any of their pain points, and more importantly meant they found the trade-offs satisfactory in exchange for their own demands.
With the journalists hawkishly recording every word of the negotiations, the Republic had suddenly found itself in a disadvantageous position. They were going to be pressured to concede just as easily, lest be accused of treating in poor faith. Nevertheless, Padmé and her colleagues had drafted their demands to be as agreeable as possible, and she had little doubt Mina had mirrored that effort.
“First,” Tyreca Bremack watched their faces intently, “The Supreme Chancellor and Republic Senate must release an official statement recognising the Confederacy of Independent Systems as a legitimate and sovereign star nation.”
“Naturally,” Bail agreed.
“Second,” Tyreca continued, holding up two fingers, “A general association of star nations must be formed for the purpose of affording mutual guarantees of political independence and territorial integrity to large and small states alike.”
So that a war like never this could never occur again before pursuing all other means of diplomacy was left unsaid. Notably, Senator Bremack specifically avoided saying ‘between our two nations’ and instead made sure to affirm ‘large and small states alike.’ The Republic and Confederacy were not the only nations in the galaxy, and there were still thousands of independent star systems on the fringes of the Outer Rim.
“That will require greater debate in the Senate,” Senator Darsana said, “But it is largely agreeable, and very sensible.”
Senator Bremack smiled in satisfaction, before the Separatist delegation once more kicked off another round of discussion to present their third point. Since the Republic delegation made three demands, the Separatist side wanted to mirror that in order to force them to ‘balance the scales’ so to speak.
“The third point,” Mina Bonteri finally said, almost apologetically, “Is in reference to the admittedly ignoble conduct on both sides of the war. Despite the general declaration for the cessation of hostilities, both sides had continued to fight, and taken significant territories from each other.”
Senator Darsana’s jaw clenched. There it is. Padmé should have known that Mina would have never let their previous friendship get in the way of giving her a hard time–actually, she did know, and had even expected it. She just wished she didn’t have to.
“We demand an alteration to the Republic’s first demand. The borders must be reverted to the date of fourteen-four-four of the ReSynchronization calendar before the demilitarised zone is enforced.”
“Absolutely not!” Bail immediately replied.
It wasn’t some knee-jerk reaction, Bail was far too composed for that. Mina was referring to the fourth day of the fourth month of the Year Fourteen since the Great ReSynchronization–or the date both governments formally agreed to begin peace efforts. Hostilities throughout the galaxy by and large ended, most significantly on the Perlemian Trade Route, but not everywhere.
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On the Separatist side, Authala Sector fleets, recently unified under the Emberlene System, had lifted the Siege of Nanth’ri, killing Jedi General Laan Tik. Preserving their momentum, they counterattacked along the Nanth’ri Route, encircling Colonel Gentis’ army at Attahox.
On the Republic side, the 8th Sector Army had relentlessly assaulted Separatist positions in the Northern Territories, taking both Dantooine and Ord Trasi to show for it. In reality, both worlds had been contested, but after the intention for a ceasefire was made known, General Vanto had ordered an all out assault to take the two planets, ostensibly so as to not waste his efforts.
What the demand was truly aimed at, however, was clearly Jedi General Rees Alrix’s lightning campaign down the Rimma Trade Route. Ignoring the calls for peace and defying all expectations, she scored a decisive victory against a force over three times her size at the Battle of Medth, before conquering the rest of the Induparan Crown Worlds with the 18th Sector Army close behind her. At this moment, her forces besiege Sullust, while the Outland Regions Security Force of Eriadu seized the opportunity to liberate the Seswenna Sector.
The Induparan Crown Worlds, Sullust, and Seswenna Sector combined represent the most powerful economic, industrial, and military powers in the southern galaxy. It was not unlawful for General Alrix or even Emberlene and General Vanto to keep fighting, as intention does not equate law, but as Mina had established, it could be seen as rather ignoble, if not entirely dishonourable. But say whatever of General Alrix’s doggedness, to give away so much strategically important territory would be hard to swallow.
“No?” Esu Rotsinu raised an eyebrow, “Senator Organa, you cannot propose to share a cake, but slice just a bit more for yourself before we can decide how to split it. You might find yourself biting off a bit more than you can chew.”
Padmé wished she could defuse the situation, but this was one of the points they couldn’t give ground on. For one, General Rees Alrix and her Hundred Days Offensive had been sensationalised and even immortalised in the HoloNet, as the Republic eagerly turned to another vector of propaganda following the disastrous Battle of Columex. If that wasn’t enough, the powers at play in the Senate would never swallow it, surrendering the Seswenna Sector so soon after it had been liberated, not when Eriadu was the homeworld of a bloc as influential as the Tarkins.
“We can’t let this happen,” Bana Breemu whispered begrudgingly, leaning down, “Senator Tarkin will never stand for it, and the Chancellor cannot afford to lose her backing.”
Senator Shayla Paige-Tarkin of the Seswenna Sector was a core Loyalist of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, and the political centre of a caucus of Outer Rim senators supporting his Administration.
“I don’t like her,” Senator Darsana muttered, “But even I cannot deny her support is paramount for keeping more Outer Rim sectors from breaking away. Her and Orn Free Taa. And that’s ignoring the potential ramifications of stymieing the media’s new golden child. If…”
Darsana's eyes tracked the Jedi briefly, before returning down, “If Alrix becomes particularly incensed, the combined influence of the Jedi Order and Republic Navy could become especially troublesome.”
“I highly doubt the Jedi would allow that,” Bail Organa returned.
“You can’t say that for the Navy as well. The Hundred Days Offensive has been the critical success they’ve been chasing after for so long,” Darsana pressed, “The Tarkins alone are enough to inhibit the Administration, but if General Osvald Teshik throws his weight behind them…”
Senator Padmé Amidala marshalled her features, presenting a cold front as she stated– “We’re afraid we won’t be able to compromise on this point. Our original demand stands; the demilitarised zone must be created on the present frontlines.”
Mina slowly leaned back, crossing her legs with a hard edge in her eyes, “Then we will not press the issue. Allow us to retract the demand and refine it, before proposing it again.”
“Of course, Senator,” Padmé mollified.
As the Separatist delegates huddled and whispered to decide on a counteroffer, Padmé noticed a devilish tug at the edge of Tyreca Bremack’s lips, one that suggested she knew exactly why they were unable to cede any diplomatic ground. Tyreca was, after all, once a member of the Republic Senate, and also once victim to Shayla Paige-Tarkin’s less-than-magnanimous character.
She used the moment’s reprieve to reorganise the notes on her datapad, barely registering a faint beeping from behind her, and a scuffle among the gathered Jedi.
“Something the issue, Master Jedi?” it was only at Bail’s interest did Padmé realise it may be more important than mere chatter.
As she turned around, she caught a glimpse of Admiral Bonteri observing them like a Naboolian bogwing, through dull, almost lifeless eyes.
“That remains to be seen, Senator,” Obi-Wan had his arms crossed, watching Anakin’s retreating back, “Anakin had just received an urgent transmission from Coruscant.”
“Urgent?” Padmé couldn’t quite disguise the alarm in her voice.
“Yes,” Master Plo Koon said with a heavy tone, “Otherwise it would not have gotten through his holoprojector’s disturbance settings.”
⁂
“Any ideas on the caller?” Senator Amidala questioned.
“The Chancellor,” Master Kenobi suggested confidently, “They are quite close. Not many else can contact him like this, and had it been a Jedi, they would have contacted either Plo Koon or I first.”
“Hey,” Ahsoka nudged her, “You hear that? Master Skywalker’s friends with the Chancellor!”
Scout shushed her, “Can you not, right now? I’m listening.”
And yet, she would be lying if she said she was not surprised. My Master and the Supreme Chancellor are friends? Since when? How am I only finding out now? Questions like that ran through her mind. And she had to admit, this was the most interesting thing to happen in hours. Oh, she knew how important the words being exchanged at this negotiation was–Master Skywalker had been drilling it into her head the moment he convinced Master Gallia to allow them to come.
But still. How could the words that would decide the fate of billions, trillions of lives still sound so boring? And Senator Bonteri even said that this was a more casual session! Scout’s knees were already aching, and she couldn’t imagine just how much more tedious a… non-casual negotiation would be. If there was one thing she envied about Admiral Bonteri, it was how still he’s able to stand without showing even a hint of discomfort.
I should meditate more… Scout thought… wait, how long has it been since I last meditated?
“Hey Ahsoka?” doubling back on her words, this time it was Scout’s turn to nudge her friend, “When was the last time you meditated?”
Ahsoka looked at her strangely, and perhaps a little bit betrayed, “Like… a few days ago? Master Kenobi’s serious about this kind of thing. How about you?”
“...At the Temple,” Scout mumbled.
“What!?” Ahsoka hissed in shock, “That’s… like a year ago!”
“Master Skywalker never asked me to!” Scout argued, “And I’ve never seen him meditating! He’s always either standing on the bridge, talking with the crew, or…”
Wait a minute, has she seen Master Skywalker meditate before?
“Or what?”
“Or tinkering with stuff,” realisation slowly dawned on her, “Tinkering with the ship. Fixing the droids. Maintaining the armour. For hours.”
“Well…” Ahsoka started hesitantly, “That sounds like meditation to me.”
“–What does the Chancellor have to say at a time like this?” Senator Breemu asked with a slight frown.
“I imagine we are about to find out, soon enough,” Master Kenobi crossed his arms as a small blue-scanned figure popped up from the handheld holoprojector, largely inaudible at the distance.
A faint, polite cough brought their collective attention back to the table. Senator Bonteri took a long sip of wine, purposely making them wait by savouring the taste. She set the glass down with a dainty clink, lips stained a dark purplish hue.
“May we continue?” she finally raised an eyebrow.
“Our apologies for the interruption,” Senator Amidala wiggled in her seat, seeking a comfortable position as she settled down for the second round of negotiations.
“Good,” Senator Bonteri smiled sharply, “I hope you find our revisals more tolerable.”
“Third!” Senator Bremack laid her tablet on the table, pushing it to the middle with two fingers, knocking several platters of pastry out of the way, “The Republic must respect an absolute freedom of navigation within the captured territories. The nationals of Confederate systems as well as their vessels and property must enjoy the full usage of their own ports without obstruction. Any enforced regulations must be reasonable and uniform and must not impede traffic unnecessarily.”
If it wasn’t for Senator Bail Organa raising a hand as he received the tablet, the Republic side of the table may have just erupted in outrage. Already, delegates down the row were almost out of their seats, animatedly debating whether the revised clause was better, or perhaps even worse than the reversion of territories.
“I don’t get it,” Ahsoka mumbled, fairly put out. It was the type of feeling you get when you know something interesting was going on, but was so far out of the loop that the words went in one ear and out the other. Scout sympathised.
Bail Organa’s hand dropped, and he looked up, “Allow me to present a counteroffer; in exchange, the Confederacy must repatriate all interned civilians of Republic citizenship, including hostages under trial or convicted, to either their homeworlds or Republic territory.”
“At the Republic’s expense,” Senator Bonteri challenged.
“...At the Republic’s expense,” Senator Organa sighed.
“Perfect,” the Onderonian’s face immediately brightened, “Let us begin drafting the armistice.”
“Hold on,” a Republic senator whacked the table, one Scout didn’t recognise, “What about reparations?”
“Reparations, annexations, and ceding of territories can wait until the conclusion of the preliminaries of peace,” Master Plo stepped in, “This is not a treaty to end the war, but merely an agreement to stop the fighting.”
“Tallisibeth,” Master Kenobi leaned down, “Why don’t you bring Anakin back to us? He has been absent for quite some time.”
Scout bowed slightly, internally elated at the chance to exercise her stiff legs, “Yes, Master Kenobi.”
Ignoring the envious stare a certain Togruta was shooting at her, Scout discretely backed away before dashing off to find her Master. Anakin had hid himself away at the far end of the hall, making an impressive rendition of a wallflower as he listened to the holoprojector. As she approached, however, Scout could immediately notice something wasn’t right.
The air around her Master was chilly, and the Force taut like a strung bow ready to snap. Even without trying–or even without the capability of trying–Master Skywalker still tends to broadcast his emotions like a jamming beacon. This never happens in front of the men; in front of the men, Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi General, indomitable and invulnerable.
“Master?” she called out.
“–You must evacuate our delegates off Onderon!”
Scout had heard that voice before, on the HoloNet. It was Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s voice. But she could hardly believe it. The Chancellor had always been calm, almost soothing whenever he spoke on the HoloNet, giving speeches on the state of the Republic and updates on the war effort. As if he was telling the people of the Republic ‘everything’s going to be okay.’
But not here. The Chancellor’s voice was nervous, and wore the hue of panic and urgency.
A distant explosion wracked the scanner, and the Chancellor’s figure snapped out of view for a moment.
“...Chancellor!” a faraway voice shouted, “The mirrors are falling!”
“Where’s Admiral Honor!?” the Chancellor shouted back as he gripped his desk.
“The Home Defense Fleet has been destroyed, Chancellor!” the second person stepped into the frame, revealing Jedi Master Adi Gallia, “Admiral Honor isn’t responding! They’re destroying all of our satellites!”
Chancellor Palpatine clutched his chest, gasping, but the Jedi Master caught him just before he keeled over.
“Our shields…!” he muttered feverishly, “Our shields…!”
“The planetary shields are up, Chancellor, but I need to get you to safety,” Master Gallia bent towards the comlink, “Skywalker, is that you? Thank the Force we were able to reach somebody. Our satellites are being targeted, so Coruscant’s communications are about to be cut off. I’m afraid the attack we feared was coming has finally arrived, just in the wrong place. Get the delegates out of–!”
The hologram spluttered, then disappeared in a splash of blue.
Master Skywalker continued looking at the lifeless holoprojector for a long time, before slowly stowing it away in the folds of his cloak. He breathed out heavily.
“...Master?”
“You know,” Master Skywalker said, “This is the second time the Chancellor personally contacted me to evacuate our forces off a Separatist world.”
“What happened the first time?”
“Jabiim.”
The single name sparked a memory in Scout’s head. Appo said something about Jabiim, how it was the worst battle the Jedi had ever fought.
“Eighteen Jedi were dead,” Anakin Skywalker continued, “All who were left were nine of us, all Padawans, without our masters. Obi-Wan was missing in action. We were prepared to die in order to buy time for our forces to evacuate. But the Chancellor contacted me, ordering me to lead the evacuation.”
He looked down at her, “I didn’t call them my friends then, but I wish I could now. I left, and I never saw those Padawans again. I was a damned coward, secretly happy I could live, and I should have been called a coward. But Jabiim was one of the first battles of the war, and the HoloNet needed a victory for the media. So they called me a hero instead; the Hero With No Fear. The hero who single-handedly held off the Separatist scourge and evacuated the Republic’s forces off that living hell.”
A tower crumbled in Scout’s mind, “You… you lived…”
“Because I had friends in high places,” Anakin finished, “My entire reputation was built on a lie. Hero? The only heroes were the eight orphaned Padawans dead in the rain, who gave their lives to delay the enemy. Tae was the best of us, so powerful he could read our minds in the Force. Mak was the only one of us considered for Knighthood, and should have been Knighted upon his return. Aubrie was supposed to be trained by Master Windu. They said she was destined for the Council. Me? I was friends with the Chancellor. So I lived.”
He smiled bitterly, then unhooked his lightsaber.
“Master?” Scout asked in alarm, “What are you doing?”
“Convincing,” he answered.
Master Kenobi was the first to notice their return; “Anakin! Care to share what you had…”
The Jedi Master flicked his eyes to Anakin’s lightsaber, and his easy expression died.
“I just spoke to the Chancellor,” Master Skywalker announced loudly, “The summit has been called off. The Republic delegation is to evacuate off Onderon immediately.”
This isn’t going to go well, was the only thing Scout could think.
“The Chancellor did?” Bail Organa sprung out of his chair, “For what reason!?”
“The Separatists have tricked us,” Master Skywalker replied bluntly, “This whole negotiation was a sham. A trap.”
Amused surprise rippled outwards, from the delegates to the officials to the journalists. Master Skywalker huffed, as if he had expected this.
“Anakin,” Senator Amidala admonished, “The Confederacy has been nothing but pleasant hosts since we arrived–”
“Indeed, Master Jedi,” Admiral Bonteri had somehow circled around the entire table without any of them noticing, and was now standing right in front of Anakin, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword, “Care to explain how we managed to trick the Jedi of all people? Go on, confound my already low expectations.”
Master Skywalker adjusted his grip, taking a deep breath in preparation for what comes next– and then the Force quivered, like a sudden heatwave warping the air. Anakin closed his mouth as both Master Plo and Master Kenobi were startled into rapt apprehension, eyeing the room carefully.
Seconds stretched on, an unspoken unease settled over the room like a heavy fog, thickening with each passing heartbeat. Eyes darted nervously from one person to another, seeking reassurance but finding only the mirrored anxiety reflected back. Separatists and Loyalists, once on the breakthrough of peace, were now nervously eyeing each other, as if expecting the other to attack like savage dogs.
“...Nobody doubts your integrity, Master Skywalker,” Bail Organa picked up on their sudden collective unease, “But we’re going to need to contact Coruscant for further advisement.”
“You can try,” Anakin replied warily, “There won’t be a response.”
The Force swam before Scout in a haze, and fleeting visions travelled through her mind one after another like words going in one ear and out the other.
“Put your weapon away, Jedi,” Admiral Bonteri warned, his form like a blur as he gripped his sword, “Let’s be reasonable. What do you mean there won’t be a response?”
The bowstring snapped.
With a distinct snap-hiss, an edge of blue erupted out of Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber. The Admiral didn’t waste any time drawing his sword with the blade ringing out of its scabbard with a ghostly whisper. The strange black metal seemed to hungrily drink in the light of the lightsaber, making the space a shade darker for it. Chairs clattered and fell as delegates and senators scrambled to get out of the way, many of them hastily dialling their comlinks to contact anyone they can.
Behind them, the Onderonian Paladins and Senate Guard both snapped into action, lowering their weapons in a tense standoff.
“Stand down!” the Admiral shouted.
“...Master,” Scout whispered, discreetly drawing out her own lightsaber, “It doesn’t look like he’s lying. None of the Separatist senators know what’s happening either.”
“I know,” her Master murmured, “That’s what worries me.”
“Anakin,” Master Plo asked calmly, “Will you tell us what you know?”
“We are leaving,” Anakin declared, obviously referring to not just the Jedi but the entire Republic delegation, “I’ve got orders from Master Gallia. Will you let us leave?”
Master Plo and Master Kenobi twitched at the mention of their fellow Councilmember.
“After you drew your weapon?” Admiral Bonteri brandished his sabre, “Nobody's going anywhere. Not until you deign to enlighten us.”
“He’s right, Anakin,” Senator Amidala agreed worriedly, “Just what is going on? Why isn’t Coruscant responding to our calls?”
Anakin Skywalker’s eyes flitted from one face to another, some frightened, others irritated at the interruption. He–we made a mistake, Scout decided, we thought the Separatists already knew. Now there’s no easy way to diffuse the tension.
The problem only got worse when Admiral Bonteri decided to take it upon himself to defuse the situation. With no warning, the black sabre sliced cleanly through the air, as if shearing through the Force itself before it could give any forewarning. Even without the Force, however, Anakin Skywalker was still a formidable duellist. Four more lightsabers burst to fiery life as Anakin snapped to parry–
The midnight edge struck blue fire, the lightsaber’s blade emitter and flux aperture violently sparked with arcing electricity.
And just like that, the most renowned weapon of a Jedi was nothing more than a useless rod of steel. Anakin didn’t waste any time checking the integrity of his lightsaber, immediately shoving the Separatist Admiral away with the Force. Scout and Ahsoka advanced, weapons raised despite their newfound weariness of the strange metal.
“Cortosis,” Master Kenobi identified, “Pure cortosis.”
Rain Bonteri tapped a device on his wrist, and the doors burst open, followed by an unmistakable sound Scout hadn’t heard since arriving on Onderon. Perfect, inhumanly synchronised footfalls, accompanied by an orchestra of whirring servomotors and pounding steel. Droids.
Not any droids. Commando droids. Dozens of them, all equipped with cortosis sabres with midnight edges. Behind them followed even more super battle droids, with their heavy torsos and wrist cannons–except, every single one of them were clad in that light-drinking metal. Master Kenobi and Master Plo ignited their lightsabers, taking protective stances around the Padawans. The Senate Guards tightened their ranks into a circle around the table as the poor journalists were seized and taken away by droids.
The clanking stopped. They were surrounded on all sides.
We can still use the Force, Scout thought, but I don’t think getting into a fight is what we want to do.
“Tell us what happened,” Admiral Bonteri half-pleaded, “That’s the only way this ends peacefully.”
“This won’t end peacefully,” her Master promised, not unkindly, “I wish signing the armistice was still an option.”
He then stowed his malfunctioning lightsaber and pulled out his holoprojector again, fiddling with the dials until the device spat back out its memory of the last transmission. Holding it up for the entire table to see, Anakin bore a halfway apologetic, resigned expression as the Supreme Chancellor’s and Master Gallia’s voices echoed throughout the agonisingly pregnant silence.
“Coruscant has been attacked by a suspected Separatist fleet,” Anakin Skywalker said, “The capital of the Republic is under siege. We are ordered to evacuate immediately.”