Onderon, Japrael System
Japrael Sector
The first name that came to mind was General Grievous.
That robot bastard was the only person I could think of with the ability to attack Coruscant–but there were several issues with that. First, I didn’t know how Grievous reached Coruscant in Revenge of the Sith. It was the end of the war by then, and for all I know the frontlines were in the Core Worlds, despite my half-baked memory being pretty sure the Separatists were losing badly by then.
Regardless, this entire affair had an unmistakable Sith Lord-shaped shadow looming over it all. I hadn’t even considered that they might do something so drastic, which with the curse of hindsight made me realise how optimistic that train of thought was. The Republic’s sudden desire for peace–even an incomplete one–was a surprise, but a pleasant one. The sheer impact of the Battle of Columex on the Republic’s war weariness was an even greater surprise, and an even more pleasant one.
Nothing save an attack on the very initiator of the peace effort could overturn the public perception of the war, that’s what I thought. I suppose an arbitrary surprise attack on the capital of the Republic might just do the trick as well.
Just can’t get a break, I internally complained, thrown from one place to another. That’s what I get for fighting against the will of space magic, I suppose.
But now I was in a pickle. Standing in a room full of terrified senators and delegates, with small army droids–that I could only get in here by threatening the dean of Ov Taraba–there was no doubt I was painting myself as the villain. Not to mention I had just attacked a Jedi Knight in an attempt to shut down his lightsaber–a terrible decision in hindsight, as there was no chance I could out-reflex a Jedi–that to my own credit, worked.
And for the record, I was terrified as well. Anakin Skywalker doesn’t have the greatest track record with this sort of thing, and I was far less concerned with the four extra lightsabers not being held by Anakin Skywalker now being directed at me, considering they were all being held by mentally stable individuals.
“–Home Defense Fleet has been destroyed, Chancellor!” a Jedi,by the robes, stepped into the frame of the holoprojector, “Admiral Honor isn’t responding! They’re destroying all of our satellites!”
The miniature Chancellor then doubled over, muttering something mad as he was caught dragged away by a pale, bald aide. Anakin frowned, speeding up the footage and distorting the imaging and audio until the tendril-haired Jedi was the only person in-frame.
“...Is that you?” the Jedi was so close to the sending comlink that her head was morbidly enlarged, as if she was afraid we couldn’t hear her, “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–”
And the recording was unceremoniously cut off with a sharp hum and wink of blue light. Anakin Skywalker looked up expectantly at all of us, conveying a very vindictive ‘I told you so’ through his expressive eyebrows. Bail Organa moved to speak, but the whirr of a blaster being primed made him think twice.
Padmé Amidala was not so afraid.
“Well?” she asked, doing her best to conceal the utter defeat in her voice, “What is going to be done now?”
One thing’s for certain; the political careers of everybody in this room was done. For both sides. They spent all their pull and capital crediting and sponsoring the peace initiative, with nothing to show for it. Worse than that, actually. One step forward to peace, and the Sith–I suspect–dragged us all a hundred klicks back in one decisive strike.
“First–” I ensheathed my sword, “Let’s put our weapons away, then confirm the situation.”
I raised a fist, and my droid battalion stood down with the sort of pure unhesitation to follow orders you could only expect from machines. Thankfully, the Jedi didn’t want to pick a fight either, and swiftly reciprocated the sentiment.
I made a show of taking out my own holoprojector, toggling a hotline straight to my boss; General Sev’rance Tann. I didn’t even have to wait.
Her disciplinarian form appeared, ever more severe since her ascension; “Yes, Rear Admiral?”
“We have an audience,” was the first thing I said.
“...Noted. Do you have a report for me?”
I eyed the Jedi carefully. Every bone in my body was screaming for me to get out now, behind the siege of droids, while I still could.
“A rogue Separatist warfleet has attacked Coruscant,” I reported bluntly, not moving an inch from my spot, “Do you have any news on that account?”
Damning silence was all that followed. General Tann immediately disappeared from the holographic frame.
Obi-Wan Kenobi raised an eyebrow, “Not even General Tann–who is now your Supreme Commander, if I recall rightly–knows anything about this? Truly, I am now wondering if this rogue fleet even belongs to the Confederacy.”
“I hope not,” Mina Bonteri’s gravelly voice snarled, “Or there will be the Demon Moon to pay.”
“Master Gallia never specified the perpetrators,” Master Kenobi brushed his beard, unflappably calm, “It would be a mistake to presume the attackers are Separatists. The recall of our delegates could be nothing more than a precautionary action.”
“With all due respect, Master,” the Togruta Padawan said nervously, “But who else has the firepower to attack Coruscant? And the Home Defence Fleet was destroyed too. There aren’t any pirate fleets in the Core, and what pirate fleets there are in the Outer Rim… are under the Confederacy’s payroll.”
Mina snorted loudly, falling back onto her chair heavily, massaging her forehead. As always, she knew how to discreetly command the mood. Tawni Ames and other Peace Faction-aligned officials immediately followed her lead, effectively breaking everybody out of their fight-or-flight fugue.
“How would we even get a fleet to Coruscant?” she bit, “Unless you intend to self-report the vulnerability of your Core Worlds.”
They didn’t have to wait for the answer, despite the fact that my arm was already aching by the time Sev’rance Tann returned.
“I just spoke with Rear Admiral Trilm,” the Supreme Commander said, “I am afraid there is a Separatist presence in the Core Worlds. One that I was not aware of.”
I barely had the time to process the fact that Calli Trilm was now also an admiral, before my mind immediately latched onto the latter half of the statement–as did nearly everybody else around me.
“There is!?” Mina Bonteri demanded before I could, slamming her palms against the table.
The Supreme Commander couldn’t have seen her, but she most definitely heard her. General Tann crossed her arms, “During the Separatist Crisis, Count Dooku secretly dispatched Admiral Dua Ningo to the Techno Union shipyards at Foerost, ostensibly to build a new fleet right under the nose of Coruscant. Unfortunately, the Battle of Geonosis started the war before the fleet could be constructed. We’ve had no contact with Admiral Ningo since, and due to the secrecy of his commission, nobody but the scarce few inside Dooku’s inner circle even knew of the mission’s existence. Even I assumed Admiral Ningo was simply missing in action.”
“And Count Dooku never informed you?” Senator Bremack asked in disbelief.
“He did not,” General Tann gave me a knowing look, “I had to find out through one of his former subordinates.”
That’s… not something you say unless you didn’t care about legitimacy, I winced internally. A Supreme Commander who wasn’t in control of her own military didn’t instil a ton of confidence. But that was Sev’rance Tann for you; straightforward, tactless, and not a single politicking bone in her body. Fortunately, it appeared that Calli Trilm was already acting as her unofficial political advisor, and even I had to admit, there was no better choice.
Regardless, it was already said, and considering the furious expressions of some of the Separatist senators, there was going to be a senatorial investigation in order.
“Hold on,” Anakin Skywalker’s apprentice raised her hand like a schoolgirl, “Isn’t Foerost only two-hundred parsecs from Coruscant? That’s a five hour jump.”
“And more importantly,” Master Plo added, “Considering the prominence of the Foerost Shipyards, this fleet could already be finished–has already been finished.”
“We never heard of it,” Bail Organa shook his head, bouncing between each of his colleagues to confirm his statement, “Of Foerost, yes, but not about the construction. But we had a blockade there; why didn’t we inform Admiral Ningo about the peace effort?”
“That’s not a question that can be answered here,” Senator Breemu pointed out.
“So that’s it then?” Padmé Amidala was despondent, holding her head in her hands, “Everything we strived for, wiped clean by pure bad luck? A rogue fleet nobody could communicate with, that nobody knew existed, just chose this precise moment to break out?”
Well, when it was put like that… it only deepened my suspicions even further. General Tann was giving me another meaningful look… oh, that does make a lot of sense.
The Supreme Commander cleared her throat, “There is going to be a lot of confusion and accusations in the coming days, but I wish to guarantee to the honourable Republic delegation that the actions of Foerost have not been sanctioned by my office. The Confederate Armed Forces will be completely forthcoming and transparent to any official inquiries from the Republic Diplomatic Corps. If you can procure me a secure line to a Republic asset nearby Admiral Ningo, I may be able to communicate with him."
“There’s no chance that’s happening,” Senator Darsana scoffed derisively, “Give a line of communication from the Supreme Commander of the Separatist military to a suspected Separatist fleet? Try asking the Senate to decrease taxes on Core hyperlanes instead.”
“I’m afraid what we think won’t matter anymore,” he continued, slumping, “The HoloNet will go on a rampage, and our standings in the Senate will be completely gutted.”
If he had it bad, Padmé Amidala had it worse, and everybody knew it. All of the Republic senators present here would have their careers severely damaged, but not enough to completely destroy them. Padmé, however, was the exception. She was the star of the show, the main character of the HoloNet’s eye, the woman who made that damn speech define her career post-Columex. I wouldn’t pretend to know how Naboo elects its senators, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Senator Amidala would be forced to tender her resignation, or even be recalled and replaced.
“So the war continues…” the Senator in question appeared far more distressed over the files on the table than her own future, “And to think we were so close…”
“Bad luck, huh…?” Mina looked at the Jedi, “Does the Force think this is bad luck as well?”
“The Council will seek answers,” Plo Koon promised, turning to me with intent through his mask, unflappably calm, “I imagine you will too. But for now, our priority is returning our delegates to Republic space safely.”
“Our warships will escort your diplomatic vessels as far as Commenor,” General Tann promised.
Wait, Commenor? That’s neck deep in Republic space. There’s no way our ships will be allowed to return… wait a second, the only ship’s in Japrael are mine!
“Commenor?” Obi-Wan Kenobi questioned, “General, we would be satisfied with the edge of the Japrael Sector.”
“I insist,” Tann returned, “Considered a prerequisite of safety. Rear Admiral, I’m sure your vessels are up to the task?”
Considering her tone suggested it was an order and not a question, I had no choice to comply. Not to mention, I could recognise Calli Trilm anywhere. Yes, Sev’rance Tann was speaking, but those were Calli’s words. General Tann would never give a reassurance to the Republic senators, or waste any naval resources escorting them back to Loyalist space. Calli Trilm, however? Optics was her middle name. For all I knew, the grey-haired witch was standing right next to Tann, out of view.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Because the reason for my fleet escort was obvious enough; to dissuade any… let’s call them ‘pirates’ from jumping the Republic’s diplomatic corps while in-transit. Whether they were Republic or Separatist ‘pirates’ didn’t matter.
But I had to ask– “And what will become of my ships once they arrive at Commenor?”
“Make sure they contain nothing of value to the Republic,” the General might as well shrugged, “Scuttle them or let the Republic intern them.”
“...Understood, General,” I blew out a furious breath, then pulled out my comlink with my free hand, “Tuff, come in. I need you to prepare a squadron…”
I raised an open hand, and my droid encirclement swiftly opened its ranks. Prompted by the implied acquiescence, the blue armoured Senate Guards immediately began ushering the Republic delegates out of the room.
As I spoke to Zenith, I noticed Padmé Amidala forlornly collecting her documents off the table–
“Forgive me for hoping that one day, we will need these files,” she muttered, clutching them close to her chest before trudging after her colleagues.
“Bonteri!” I tensed as Anakin Skywalker called me, “Looks like we will be meeting each other on the battlefield again.”
I looked up, “I wish it wouldn’t come to that.”
The Jedi Knight shifted, “Well… sorry about earlier. I thought you planned the attack. But it looks like it really was just bad timing.”
My gaze skipped to Plo Koon, “I wouldn’t be so sure. I would check all communications concerning Foerost, Master Jedi.”
The old Kel Dor bowed his head, clearly catching my meaning, “I will launch an investigation upon our return. Personally, if I must.”
“Not personally… that’d be drawing too much attention from the wrong people,” I returned to Skywalker, jabbing a finger at him, “And one more thing; I want my ships back in one piece.”
As they left, Mina released a laborious sigh, childishly flicking a wine glass over and spilling its purplish contents over the table. Tyreca Bremack snorted in response, and pushed down her arms in a movement to stand.
I adjusted the receiving and transmitting apertures of my holoprojector and tossed it onto the table, “Please stay a while, senators. Your attendants can leave.”
It was clear it wasn’t a request, and considering there was still a not insignificant number of droids remaining, Bremack took a good look around, and plopped back into her chair. Mina waved her hand, and their senatorial aides left through the side doors, though not without a few worried looks over their shoulders.
“What is it, Rain?”
I gestured towards the holoprojector, which, now with a larger aperture, displayed a life-sized Sev’rance Tann.
“It wasn’t bad timing,” I said once nobody else was in earshot, “And this may be a mistake bringing you into the loop, but we’ve decided risks had to be taken.”
Esu Rotsinu raised an eyebrow, “If it wasn’t bad timing, then what was it?”
“There is one person we know for certain who has lines of communication in the Core Worlds, and also the authority to order Admiral Dua Ningo,” General Tann dropped the ball, “It is our Head of State, Count Dooku.”
I would’ve put it more tactfully than that, but I supposed brevity has its place. If nothing else, it conveyed the required amount of seriousness to the senators to tell them that this wasn’t our idea of a joke.
Mina looked at me, “To suggest something like that is treason–”
“We aren’t the ones committing treason,” I replied softly, involuntarily tensing up as I observed each senator absorbing the General’s words.
Tawni Ames, a more moderate senator, leaned back, “Thesis?”
I hastily took out my tablet and swiped the files and reports into Mina’s personal datapad.
“Our… Naval Intelligence caught several encrypted transmissions between Separatist and Loyalist worlds, notably between Raxus and Coruscant,” the Supreme Commander explained.
“Oh, my colleagues must love that,” Esu Rotsinu grinned vindictively, “How many senators does the Armed Forces hold a sword over?”
“But we have also caught a specific line of communication between Serenno and Coruscant,” the General ignored her, “More specifically, Count Dooku’s personal residence in Carannia’s castle district.”
Senator Bremack frowned, “That is far from proving Dooku staged this attack–”
“It proves that our Head of State is acting without accountability,” Mina suddenly interrupted, tearing her attention away from her datapad, “It proves he has undisclosed contacts in Loyalist space, and not to mention has withheld critical information from his own government and military regarding classified assignments. Accusing him of treason is a bit too far, but these are still grounds for impeachment.”
I had to agree. From a practical standpoint alone, trying to try the founder of our nation for treason is simply a fool’s errand. Abuse of office, on the other hand? That was a much more realistic goal, and it still largely achieves the same thing.
“Mina!?” Tyreca Bremack exclaimed in surprise.
Mina Bonteri silently forwarded the documents to her colleagues, before staring at General Tann, “What do you want from us?”
If Sev’rance Tann had it her way, she would have immediately demanded Dooku’s impeachment or even trial. But that would never have flown in the Senate. So instead, she once more spoke Calli Trilm’s words.
“An investigation is all I ask,” the Supreme Commander requested, “By an unbiased Senate committee, on the basis of innocence until proven otherwise.”
“That is reasonable enough,” Tawni Ames admitted, “And this– this is enough to justify a parliamentary hearing. Still, forget getting an unbiased committee–even I still don’t believe it, and I just read a frankly damning document–it will be near-impossible to even accuse Dooku of anything in the Senate.”
Senator Bremack pinched the bridge of her nose, “We’re the most receptive audience you’re going to get, and I for one, am not very receptive. But I think you already know that.”
There were two types of senators in the Confederate Senate. On one side were the veteran ex-Republic senators, who while respecting Count Dooku, possess a more tempered image of him, borne from years of experience. Tyreca Bremack, Mina Bonteri, and Esu Rotsinu belong to this group. The other side was the pure Separatist senators, who mostly belonged to worlds and systems that never had representation in the Republic, but now do in the Confederacy. Tawni Ames and Voe Atell belong to this group.
Tawni Ames, however, was an exception. The vast majority of the ‘new’ senators were staunchly pro-Dooku, and almost held him up to an impossibly high pedestal.
“Just consider it,” I pleaded, “Not doing so will be a failure of our democracy.”
“On that, you are correct,” Esu Rotsinu said somberly… before cracking open a mirthful grin, “Dooku of all people? Now that is ironic. If nothing else, it will be amusing watching him fail.”
Mina Bonteri stood up so stiffly it was possible she had been replaced by a protocol droid, “I only pray the Confederacy doesn’t fail with him.”
From where I stood, the next step she took was another step towards peeling open Dooku’s iron-handed grip over the nation.
⁂
“This place could get a rework to not look so… oppressive,” I decided out loud.
“You think so, sir?” Kavia Slen looked around the damp dungeon, the rough-hewn stone walls almost pulsing with heat, “I think it's nice.”
I pushed open a heavy cast iron door, grunting, “I don't think the folks inside share your point of view.”
Half a mile deep in pure mountain, the dungeons were but one arm of the sprawling catacombs and mineshafts found beneath Unifar Temple. No sunlight–sometimes no light at all, period–no fresh air, no human contact, and no noise except chirping sentinel birds and the odd earthquake. Trapped in here, and you were trapped in limbo. There have even been cases of prisoners being forgotten in the more remote shafts, and found dead from presumably asphyxiation after weeks alone.
“Steela, Dono, and Hutch. Those are your names?” I asked as I entered the interrogation chamber, “Don’t worry; this isn’t an interrogation.”
Chains clinked as Hutch raised his hands, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”
“Where is my brother!?” Steela demanded immediately.
I turned to Kavia in surprise, “I thought you let them meet to say their goodbyes.”
“I did!” Kavia turned indignant.
“Then you dragged him away!” Steela tried to stand, only to be jerked back down by the manacles chaining her to the table.
“That’s because he’s been slated for execution, Miss Gerrera,” I sat down opposing them, “As the leader of the insurrection, he faces the death sentence. Or do you want to take his place?”
Steela opened her mouth, then closed it, slumping against her chair.
“I thought so,” I smiled kindly, despite my not-sudden urge to rip off her whiny mug.
“Hold on,” Dono asked, “The death sentence is for participating in an insurrection, not just for leading one.”
“You thank your friend here,” I jabbed a thumb at Hutch, “He made a deal. They surrender peacefully, and they get to keep their lives.”
“What in Dxun’s name happened out there?” Dono whispered.
“We may as well face the death sentence anyway,” Hutch sulked, “Our punishment is to be eternal banishment from Onderon.”
“So we’re just going to be thrown into outer space?” Dono sputtered, “Or what? Will we be dumped on the closest departing ship?”
“If you wish, but that’s not preferable to any of us,” I shrugged, “So I’m going to cut you a deal; serve the Space Force. You’ll get free lodgings, grub, and work. You will be given an allowance–though good luck spending it anywhere on a warship–and should you earn yourself a medal, our King will be forced to pin it on your chest and give you a reward. In other words, you get to come home.”
“...What!?” Steela snapped out of her depressive episode, “You take us prisoner, are going to kill my brother, and now expect me to fight your war? The same war we wanted out of!?”
Banishment was an old Onderonian punishment. It was the punishment that directly led to the existence of the Beast Riders and Untamed, in fact. But they’re the reason why banishment isn’t necessarily administered anymore; what if the banished don’t succumb to the elements as expected, but instead return stronger, with a lust for vengeance in their blood? Chopping off the heads of criminals is much cleaner, and ties up any loose ends instead of letting them run free.
“Steela’s right,” Dono said hesitantly, “Why would we fight the war we were fighting against? I don’t want Sanjay Rash to pin a medal to my chest.”
“You get to fight for Onderon,” Kavia asked earnestly, “Look, what other ways are there for you to reclaim your lost honour? Saw Gerrera will reclaim his in death. To die fighting for one’s cause is a worthy way to go, in the eyes of the gods. Will you follow him? Or will you follow the path of the Beast Riders? Carve out your own way in the cosmos, become a mercenary or bounty hunter, and return to Onderon to seek your revenge? Do you think you can become a second Modon Kira, and overthrow the Dynasty?”
That moved them, and even the Dono–who seemed the most rational of them–was listening intently by the end. You know, I should’ve expected that a plea to their sense of honour would be the most effective against an Onderonian. If anybody tried that one on me, I think I’d shoot them.
“How long does it take to earn a medal?” Hutch asked.
Kavia turned to me, face draped in her own expectations.
“Survive a battle or two,” I shrugged, “Distinguish yourself in service. It’s not all that difficult, in my experience. The longer wait will be for the next award ceremony.”
“...Why?” Dono finally wondered.
I retrieved a datapad from Kavia’s hands and gently placed it on the table, “The Confederate Senate just signed the Militia Act into existence. Each of its Independent Systems must contribute a percentage to the Armed Forces’ budget or manpower, or both. Onderon is neither rich nor populous, but we must all do our part.”
Steela laugh-coughed, “So Onderon gives this Confederacy its prisoners? You’re insane– I will never agree to this.”
“You know the other options,” I didn’t argue, “What about you two?”
“As long as I’m not working with droids,” Hutch looked at me.
“You won’t,” Kavia promised, “There are only eight-hundred of you. You will be serving with volunteers from the Royal Army, and will be trained by us.”
Hutch sucked in a breath, ignoring both Steela and Dono, “Better than death.”
I nodded, and stood up, “I’ll let you two think about it further. You have… a day, until you’re either lined up on Yolahn Square or shipped off on the first junker leaving Iziz.
Kavia and I left, and the guardsmen entered the room behind us to bring the prisoners back to their cells.
“You think the rest will agree?” I asked for her opinion.
“They’ll come around,” Kavia replied confidently, “I know how they think.”
“I hope you’re right about that,” I said as sincerely as I could.
Upon our return to the surface, Kavia left to begin gathering the Royal Army volunteers while I took a shuttle up to my fleet–now conspicuously missing several dozen ships. As the ramp to my Sheathipede-class shuttle lowered, I spotted Tuff’s polished plating waiting for me on the other side.
“Repulse is yours, sir,” the tactical droid greeted.
I sniffed, refamiliarising myself with the scent of rust, steel, electronics, and whatever cocktail of chemicals the engineers cooked up today. Droids hopped from one station to another, systematically going through the pre-orbit checks to make sure Onderon’s atmosphere hadn’t fucked up any critical components needed to keep the ship spaceworthy. The usual suspect is corrosion.
“Good to be back,” I allowed, “I want to speak to the Supreme Commander on the bridge.”
“As you command.”
I must have walked through every compartment of the ship on the way up to the pilothouse, visiting the engine room, the gunnery decks… almost as if I was reintroducing myself to the ship. Or making sure my house was exactly the way I left it; because Repulse was my home more than Onderon or Raxus at this point, and I still remembered her every nook and cranny like the back of my hand.
Eventually, however, I made it back to the bridge. To the conversation I was half looking forward to, and half dreading. That was always the case when it came to orders. By the time I received them, I would give anything to get away from my current location… at the cost of plunging myself into the next battle. The next chance of death.
“General Tann,” I saluted as the captain’s chair projected her form, “Requesting orders.”
“We are going to let the Republic make the first move,” the Supreme Commander told me, “You will meet Rear Admiral Trilm and I at Nanth’ri for an emergency strategy conference. Your new command, the Twenty-Eighth Mobile Fleet, awaits you there.”
At the mention of Calli Trilm, I couldn’t stop myself from asking– “How did you manage to convince Trilm to work against Count Dooku… if you don’t mind me asking, sir.”
“I am as mystified as you are, Admiral,” General Tann replied, “Her cooperation began after her deserved promotion to Rear Admiral, after which she became very receptive to my requests.”
…Nevermind. She’s the same as always.
“Ah… I understand, sir,” I nodded sympathetically, “From Nanth’ri, I expect I will be redeployed back onto the Perlemian?”
“Negative. Fleet Admiral Trench has been given command of the Perlemian AO,” she shook her head, “Your new fleet possesses unique qualities unsuited for frontline combat. Considering the volatile situation, you will receive your orders from me directly, on Nanth’ri.”
I sighed, “Crystal clear, General.”
“If you must know, Rear Admiral,” the Supreme Commander folded her arms behind her, “Your new theatre will be in the south. The Republic General Rees Alrix has pushed our forces all the way to Sullust, and now our core dependencies are under threat. This is where I suspect the Republic will focus their attention next. You will be working with Commander Asajj Ventress to lift the Siege of Sullust.”
Sev’rance Tann cut the connection with an empathetic smile. I fell ass first into my chair, staring blankly at the clouds.
I rubbed my cheek. This is why I dread new orders.