Wroona Orbit, Wroona System
Harrin Sector
Scout once thought that the Battle Hydra would be the most terrible enemy she ever had to face, that the Grand Army of the Republic would ever have to face. The Warlord of the Perlemian who crushed fleet after fleet and Jedi after Jedi in his relentless advances across the height and breadth of the galaxy, in whichever direction the Pantoran pointed him towards. An… insurmountable challenge, it had seemed, to any Jedi tasked with putting a stop to his rampage.
Scout was now reevaluating her erroneous preconceptions.
Because the Battle Hydra’s rampage had been put to a stop, by the combined efforts of Admiral Honor, Master Plo, and Master Kenobi, in the Rendili Star System. He was not… undefeatable.
But standing in the Battle Room of the battlecruiser Aurodia, the bloodthirsty crusade of the Tombmaker of Eriadu seemed utterly unstoppable. As Scout desperately hung on to every ticking, sweeping update across the innumerous holos and displays, that horrible sinking feeling only embedded itself deeper and deeper into her gut; Horn Ambigene did not know the definition of ‘defeat’.
“Commander A’din to Wroona Command, can you hear me!?” Scout was hunched over a comms station, headset pressed against one ear, “The Seps have launched another assault on Lohopa-Two. We’re requesting urgent reinforcements!”
Scout clenched her teeth. Eight times now, the Tombmaker had hurled his forces against Yag’Dhul, and eight times the Second Sector Army had thrown him back, each one more hard fought than the last. And yet here he was again, Horn Ambigene, pushing his relentless offensive up the Rimma Trade Route, unwilling to accept defeat, incapable of turning back.
There was a grim respect in Scout's thoughts for the man’s sheer tenacity, but the admiration was edged with wariness. Ambigene’s utter disdain for the notion of defeat did not just border on recklessness, but was madness in of itself; he seemed to care little for the staggering cost in soldiers and ships, so long as his goal lay in reach.
“I hear you, Commander A’din,” Scout checked her mental list, “How many men do you need?”
“The Seventh Legion’s thinned–” she was briefly deafened by the scream of atmospheric thrusters followed by a chain of rampaging explosions roaring out the headset, “–sixty troopships to recoup our losses!”
Scout looked down at the comms officer, waiting attentively to record her orders, “Seventh Legion in the Lohopa System requests sixty troopships… one million troopers.”
“Seventh Legion; Lohopa System; sixty full troopships,” the officer recited as he punched in the command, “That makes three-hundred and seventy troopships today, sir. I’ll run it by the Second Armada, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“Run it by them now. We’ll try to redeploy some of the nearby reinforcements just in case,” Scout pointed at a holochart of the Harrin Trade Corridor before swivelling around to a nearby officer, “Commander Fajinak, I need a status report on the Stobar System!”
Lieutenant Commander Fajinak’s eyes darted towards her in surprise, before sharpening in attention. He did not need to consult any material to give his answer; “The situation is tight, sir! We’ve just sent sixty Acclamators and a million troopers to shore up its defences just in time! The Seps aren’t letting us breathe.”
“So Ambigene’s trying to outflank the Seventh Legion, just as we feared,” Scout nodded grimly, silently cursing herself for ever hoping the Tombmaker would relent on just one front of the campaign, “Who’s fighting there?”
“The Three-Twenty-Seventh Star Corp’s Thirteenth Brigade, sir,” Fajinak answered easily.
“–Return transmission from the Second Armada, Commander!” the comms officer suddenly alerted, prompting Fajinak to rush to their side.
“How many can they spare?” Scout braced herself for the answer.
“They only have three-hundred Acclamators left in reserve,” the comms officer squinted at the transcript, “They’re saying they’ll try to procure and commandeer more troopships, but it’ll be some time until then. General Ry’Gaul is disallowing having proper warships be put on transport duty.”
Scout couldn’t blame the Jedi General. If there was one thing they needed more than transports it was warships. Horn Ambigene had a frightful trigger finger, and a tendency to blow apart anything and anyone that would raise a modicum of obstruction. They must contest the Tombmaker’s fleets above every planet they fought over, lest there wouldn’t even be a planet left to fight over.
“Three-hundred is better than nothing,” Scout closed her eyes, visualising the campaign in her mind’s eye, “Chief, which fronts require reinforcements?”
The comms officer’s gaze was fixed on his console as he rattled through requests, linking them to a starchart that flickered with dots and line;. "Lohopa-Two requests sixty troopships; Ord Vaug needs forty for the Three-Thirty-Second; General Skywalker’s calling for a hundred at Vandelhelm in the south. We’ve got an order for seventy more from General Ry-Gaul on Woostri, and General Aayla Secura is asking for fifty on Derra-Four."
He paused, scrolling further, "Pendarr-Three, Moorja, Xeron, Hythrope, Athallia–they’re all calling for reinforcements. We’ve already earmarked six-million men for deployment.”
Scout’s gaze drifted to the starchart, now ablaze with the red indicators of active battlefields. Warzones and reinforcement lines crisscrossed the screen like arteries, pulsing as star sectors were carved up by vast, invisible trenches. Each arrowhead and border spoke to the strain on the Republic’s lines, as if torn apart to answer the relentless fury of the Tombmaker’s ninth assault. Eight times he had hurled himself Coreward, and eight times they’d thrown him back. But this time, his assault stretched across so many fronts that the scale of it felt suffocating, larger than anything he’d marshalled before.
“But we’re lacking the ships to ferry them to the front,” Lieutenant Commander Fajinak grimaced, eyes tracing the lines on the holo, “It doesn’t help that the Tombmaker’s a master at hit-and-fades and asymmetric warfare. Admiralty’s reporting raids all across the Interior; at Roundtree, Arkam, Laertos, Beltrix-Three and Tomo-Reth. Rain Bonteri poked a hole in the Southern Core, and Horn Ambigene followed up to tear our asshole wide open–excuse my language, sir.”
“The Seps are bleeding us dry,” Scout murmured, silently wishing for the wisdom of Master Skywalker or Admiral Yularen to turn to–right before mentally berating herself for even considering that. The General and Admiral had entrusted her and her staff to directing the war effort, even giving Scout her own command flagship–Aurodia–to that end. She must not betray the trust and authority they vested in her, “And it doesn’t help that Yag’Dhul is somehow still being supplied.”
And supplying those raiders in turn. Yag’Dhul was under siege–resumed once the threat of the Hydra had evaporated with his fleets–and yet the Givin showed no sign of ailment. In fact, the Mathematocracy was feeling healthy enough to launch their Wavecrests into the Southern Core to harass their supply lines in tandem with the Confederate Fourth Fleet. ‘Conjuring resources from thin air’ was how Octavian Grant described the phenomenon. Either they’re arithmetic sorcery was more sorcerous than they had let on, or the Givin were in on some secret hyperlane from Force knows where. One was more likely than the other.
“What do you recommend, sir?” Fajinak turned to her, expectancy dripping from his tongue.
“...Pull sixteen brigades off Stobar and redeploy them to Lohopa-Two,” Scout ordered, “Vandelhelm and Woostri must get their troops by any means necessary. Moorja will also get everything they ask for–we can’t risk our western flank collapsing. Chief, hook a line to General Octavian Grant and request that he reinforces the Xeron System, as well as expand his patrols through Beltrix and Tomo-Reth.”
“What about Derra-Four and Ord Vaug?”
Scout dug her nails into her palms, willing the Force to flow through her, guiding her to the right direction. What should I do? She asked to the void, and received silence in return.
“Sir?” the comms officer asked, fingers hovering over the keys. Whatever she says, he would will into existence, guaranteeing the safety of millions… and guaranteeing the deaths of just as many.
“...We can’t send any to Derra-Four,” Scout said through gritted teeth, “It’s too far-flung, too inconsequential to the front.”
“General Aayla Secura’s fighting there,” Commander Fajinak reminded her, as if reminding her she was supposed to give preferential treatment to fellow Jedi, “These ships could mean the life or death of her campaign in the Derra System.”
Scout snapped her head at the comms officer, “Chief, send a priority transmission to the Sixteenth Sector Army. If Governor-General Coy needs the sight of me on my knees to send his armies to Derra-Four ASAP, tell him he’ll have it.
“R-Right away, sir.”
“Inform as such to General Secura,” she continued, “They’ll have to hold on tight until we get an answer–preferably a favourable one. No other choice.”
“And Ord Vaug, sir?”
Ord Vaug… it’s right off the Rimma Trade Route. If it falls, the flanks of the Rimma will be put in jeopardy. That’s our main front.
“Send everything they need,” Scout finally decided, “How many ships do we have left to send Commander A’den?”
“...Twenty, sir.”
“With ten brigades from Stobar, we can fulfil half of his request,” Commander Fajinak murmured, “It’s better than nothing. However…”
Scout patted the chief on his shoulder, signalling him to start sending the transmission, before bringing her attention to the first officer of the Aurodia– “However…?”
“We can consider sending those twenty ships to Stobar first,” the hologram fizzled as Fajinak ran his index finger down the arrow, “Beat back the Seps there, then reroute all our forces on Stobar to bolster Lohopa. The question remains–”
“Can the Seventh Legion survive that long?” Scout nodded, already striding towards the simulations bay, “Run the viability assessments. As soon as there’s a clear projection, relay our decision to Commander A’den. For now, let’s get those reinforcements on their way to Lohopa.”
“Very good, sir!”
The Battle Room hummed with sudden activity, screens and holos shifting in real time as updates poured in, their changing hues igniting a shiver along Scout’s arms. Red lines of the enemy’s influence wove across the holomaps like voracious flames, carving through the Southern Core with a relentless wildfire with no firebreaks in sight. There were no clear boundaries anymore, just the sprawling spread of the Tombmaker’s fleets as they ravaged across sector borders, pouring into neighbouring AOs and destabilising the front.
Fighting a man who refuses to taste defeat—that’s one kind of military hell, Scout mused bitterly. But coordinating with the Sector Armies? That’s another brand of bureaucratic hell entirely. Octavian Grant, for all his noble airs, was an ally she could stomach. They’d fought together before, and she daresay knew he respected her, perhaps even shared in the bond of facing the Battle Hydra head-on. But the other Governor-Generals? Dealing with the others was nothing short of political purgatory.
They’re my allies! She thought with a scowl. Why must I sacrifice more to them than to the enemy?
She forced herself into a meditative calm, summoning the Force like a balm over her fraying temper–a more common occurrence these days than she’d prefer to admit. Pride, she reminded herself, what I’m sacrificing is only my pride. If there were any of it left to speak of. She now understood why General Skywalker disliked dealing with them. Good for him, pawning the work on me.
A chime drew her attention to her datapad. Another report–cause for hope and distress all the same. Lurching from one disaster to another, one decision to another, making sacrifices here and there to maintain the overall integrity of the front. Scout opened up the report, hoping that some front or the other had freed up troops that could be redeployed to more urgent sectors. Or maybe good news from the shipyards of the Core Worlds, and new warships and transports had been procured for the southern front.
257th Legion on Gallapraxis requesting additional troops and close air support. 45th Armoured Battalion on Tregillis needs more medical supplies. 64th Shock Division on Alchenaut requests immediate evacuation.
Scout numbly forwarded the requests to the relevant stations, “Lieutenant Commander, we need to evac our forces in the Alchenaut System. What’s the closest redeployable fleet?”
Fajinak’s eyes darted up from the simulations bay, “Ord Vaug, sir.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Operations! How many ships do we need to get our men off Alchenaut?” Scout demanded.
“Thirty-two, sir!” the ops officer punched in some keys, “Well–twenty-five if we can them in a little cramped up!”
“We’ve only got seventeen at Ord Vaug,” Fajinak said, “But we’ve just confirmed the deployment for forty more transports there.”
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“Operations, get those seventeen down to Alchenaut immediately,” Scout ordered hastily, “Tell the Sixty-Fourth the rest are on their way!”
‘It might be too late by then, though’ was left unspoken. Scout didn’t linger on that thought–she couldn’t afford to for one, and she was by now far too comfortable with that line of thought for two.
“We’ll need to pull off some escorts for them as well, especially capital ships,” the Lieutenant Commander warned, “Alchenaut’s a hot spot of Seppie activity, which I s’pose is what has us on the run. Regardless, it’ll rain in the Undercity before our transport touchdown without orbital cover.”
And if we pull warships off Ord Vaug– but we also can’t leave half a million men to die on Alchenaut! What other fleets nearby from nearby…? Alchenaut Sector… Nkllon System!
“Get those ships from the Nkllon System nearby,” Scout ordered, “We’re withdrawing from the Alchenaut Sector entirely, so we won’t need them to hold to flank at Nkllon. They’ll rendezvous in the black before inserting into Alchenaut.”
“I’ll relay it to comms, sir.”
“Logistics,” trusting her second to it, she darted to the next station, “Appropriate some medical frigates for Jurzan. They have escort priority! I’ll leave the details to you.”
“But, sir–we’ve already got frigates bound for Aviles Prime!” The officer’s voice wavered, a pitch too high, his youth evident, almost as young as her– “We’re still waiting on ships to free up in the Jurzan System, and–there’s nothing left to spare!” His words rushed out, barely coherent. “I’ve… I’ve put in a request to RDPO, but we haven’t received any response yet!”
Even in the cool dimness of the Battle Room, sweat glistened on his skin, casting a sheen under the faint blue glow of the holodisplays. His wide eyes were fixed on Scout, betraying the storm of dread beneath his attempt at professionalism. She could feel his pulse, his fear radiating from him like a beacon in the dark, unspoken but clear: it’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault! His desperation was almost tangible, like a suffocating halo around him.
And he was on the edge, teetering dangerously close to a panic attack
“Calm down,” she urged, cursing the Republic Defense Procurement Office as a starchart flashed through her mind, “Does Jurzan have priority?”
“I– I don’t know sir!” he squeaked. Right, not his department.
Jurzan, Jurzan… there!
She narrowed her eyes, “Recall the frigates from Jurzan and redeploy them to Tregillis; they have priority.”
“But Jurzan–!”
“They’ll put in an evac request if it comes down to it,” Scout said, more forcefully than she’d like, “Just follow my orders. I’ll take all responsibility.”
“Yes… yes sir,” the hesitation was painfully evident.
“Get me the logs for everything in deficit,” Scout said, drifting back to the comms bay like a vengeful wraith, “I’ll put in another request with RPDO.”
What the pfassk is going up there? The situation can’t be any worse than it is down here. She swore, taking a cursory glance at all the negative red numbers transmitted to her datapad. I’ll have to use General Skywalker’s transmission code to get them to listen to me.
⁂
Coruscant, Coruscant System
Corusca Sector
“We’ve gathered here today to discuss the projection of our war effort moving forward,” Supreme Chancellor Palpatine announced to the gathered Military Advisory Council, “Concerning the volatile situation in Separatist space.”
Volatile situation is one way to put it, Adi Gallia thought wryly. Sev’rance Tann had pulled the cord, just as Rain Bonteri said she would. But it was too early–far too early–for her Jedi conspiracy to exploit fully. In fact, the timing was so soon it was even detrimental to their cause. Not that Adi Gallia ever believed the stars would align and the universe would bend backwards for them.
“Well, I don’t see any reason to change our course of action,” Senator Jannie Ha’Nook commented snidely, “The Separatists are tearing themselves apart. Good riddance. I say take advantage of their rampant idiocy, punch through and take both Raxus and Serenno!”
Her words may have received greater reception in the vast audience of the Strategic Planning Amphitheatre, but unfortunately the Amphitheatre was in ruins, reduced to rubble by the Bulwark Fleet’s Attack on Coruscant. In the smaller, more conservative atmosphere of the Advisory Council, Senator Ha’Nook demagogic tirade found little purchase.
“With what ships, Senator?” General Kohl Seerdon sneered, “We just lost the Battle of Celanon, leaving two sector fleets crippled in the process. The Eighth and Ninth Sector Armies are on the backfoot, and with our Reserve Armadas either garrisoning the Interior or deployed to other fronts, we hardly have the resources to make a concerted push to either Raxus or Serenno, let alone both.”
“Are you suggesting we let the Separatists get away–!?”
“Hardly,” the Governor-General of the 3rd Sector Army retorted preemptively, “I agree with you that this is an advantageous situation that we must seize without hesitation. With the Separatist strength halved between the two governments, we simply must identify the more threatening faction and focus our efforts on them.”
“More threatening,” Director of Republic Intelligence Armand Isard commented, “Or weaker.”
What a surprising admission from Isard. Adi Gallia would’ve thought he was one of the warhawk types… but it appears he was just ambitious. As long as he continues climbing the ladder, he wouldn’t care about the state of the galaxy, whether the Republic comes out on top or not–so long as he comes out on top at the end of it all. It was a clear distinction she had to ingrain in all of her Jedi operatives; the difference between warhawks and militarists. Kohl Seerdon was a fine militarist, but he was no warhawk. It just so happens that the influence of the GAR depends on an ongoing war most of the time. The same applies to Armand Isard.
Chancellor Palpatine steepled his fingers together, levelling a purposeful glance at the observers on the Council, “I’d like to hear your wise opinion on this matter, Master Jedi.”
She was just as surprised by Palpatine’s invitation to one of his secretive Military Advisory Council conferences in the first place, usually populated by only his most hardcore loyalists and yesmen. The Jedi had never been privy to such Council, but now they were, and this was the first time. Of course, Adi Gallia had a responsibility to attend all these political and diplomatic summits, but an invitation sent to the Jedi Order could only be an invitation for one individual in particular; Master Yoda.
“Count Dooku, we must bring to justice,” Master Yoda tapped his cane against the floor, “The legitimate Separatist government, he represents.”
Master Yoda’s low, gravelly voice was a great departure from the loud, shrill voices that Adi Gallia could only presume dominated the Advisory Council during its routine sessions.
“Not Raxus Secundus?” General Kohl Seerdon leaned forward onto the table, visibly interested.
“The ‘rightful’ Raxus Government was overthrown by Separatist Supreme Commander,” Armand Isard noted dispassionately, “It is Sev’rance Tann in control of the Raxus Government now. Our field agents report thousands of Separatist worlds torn between Raxus and Serenno… the only reason they do not mindlessly flock to Count Dooku’s banner is because Sev’rance Tann’s CAF is the only thing between them and our Grand Army.”
“And because Serenno’s influence does not extend past the New Territories, surely,” Chancellor Palpatine pointed out.
“That as well,” the Director tilted his head towards Palpatine, “But it is still something we can exploit.”
“Then that begs the question, which side should we level our forces against?” the Chancellor mused.
It was a strikingly fascinating thing to the Jedi Master, how this tiny Advisory Council of a dozen individuals were the true puppetmasters of the war, in more ways than one. Every major decision of the Grand Army of the Republic–decisions that influenced entire campaigns and operations–were made here, in an insignificant boardroom far away from the military arcology of the GAR or Admiralty of the Republic Navy. Everything that ever transpired in the Strategic Planning Theatre, all the arguments and debates and strategies and planning, all of it was just that: theatre.
However named the place, if they were in the know, must’ve had a very sardonic sense of humour.
“I believe the answer is of no debate, Chancellor,” Kohl Seerdon said confidently, as if his opinion is the only one that mattered, “We must focus our attention on Count Dooku and his Serenno Government, and avenge our defeat at Celanon.”
“In agreement, I am,” Master Yoda nodded sagely, “Started the war, Count Dooku had. Pay for his crimes, he must.”
“But it was the Pantoran who prosecuted the war in his place,” Speaker Mas Amedda said, “Why must she be free from her crimes, just because of a violent disagreement she has had with her master?”
“I agree,” Senator Ha’Nook clenched her fists, “Both must be punished.”
“But we must be realistic, Senator,” the Governor-General scolded the Senator, “Once we defeat one faction, we can turn our attention to the other.”
“That is also an option,” Armand Isard allowed.
“Oh?” General Seerdon raised an eyebrow, “Had you another intention in mind, Director?”
“I concur that Count Dooku is the target we must prioritise, but for a different reason,” the Director of Republic Intelligence laid his files on the table, “And that is because he is an idealist. The Separatist State was built on the foundations laid by his demagogy and rhetoric. He will never consider a peace with the Republic. By comparison, Sev’rance Tann is a rationalist, and not a Separatist by heart. She is in an unstable position, presiding over a fragile state held together by force of arms alone. She will also want to eliminate her only political rival and claimant to her government above all else: Count Dooku.”
Adi Gallia couldn’t have imagined being surprised three times on the same day, but it seems Armand Isard was also a man full of surprises, “You intend on making peace with Sev’rance Tann?”
“A ceasefire, if nothing else,” Isard met her gaze head on, “I imagine Sev’rance Tann will be open to such an idea. Our agents have reported across the Separatist frontier, as the Droid Armies are split between their loyalties to Serenno and to their local CAF commanders. She is seeking to stabilise the situation; a ceasefire will provide just that.”
“How will you sell this to the Senate?” Senator Ha’Nook demanded, “This is outrageous!”
“There are factions in the Senate open to another ceasefire agreement,” Mas Amedda informed them regretfully, as if the very idea was blasphemous in of itself, “Following the Crisis in the Core… the Supreme Chancellor’s speeches can only arouse so much lust for vengeance and justice. Vengeance is one thing, but there is also exhaustion. War exhaustion. For every senator moved to fury, there is another tiring of the war. They want to return to their conveniences, their luxuries, unfettered by travel bans and heightened security in all things.”
“Mon Mothma’s cowardly pro-peace faction,” the Senator sneered, “Haven’t we learned once that the Separatists cannot be trusted?”
“Count Dooku’s Separatists can’t be trusted,” Master Gallia corrected gently, “Because just as Director Isard so kindly educated us, he is an idealist demagogue through and through. Sev’rance Tann’s Separatists are not so keen on destroying the Republic as they are trying to shore up their own country following the coup.”
“Furthermore, we can destabilise the Raxus Government even more,” Armand Isard inclined his head in gratitude to her, “Exploiting the already precarious position of her military junta. We may be able to lure the Independent Systems back into the Republic without firing a shot at the CAF.”
“I am inclined to agree with your assessment…” Chancellor Palpatine leaned into his high-backed chair, rubbing his knuckles, “Well then, I propose we engage in under-the-table preliminary ceasefire talks with the Raxus Government in order to turn our attention on our common enemy in Count Dooku. Are there any objections?”
The military officers in attendance all fell in lockstep with Kohl Seerdon, as did the intelligence chiefs with Armand Isard. This left Jannie Ha’Nook’s warhawk political faction outnumbered. As for Yoda and Gallia, they were only observers, and content to wait out the heavily one-sided vote.
“Then that decides that,” the Supreme Chancellor clapped his hands together in satisfaction, “Now then, let us consider which fleets we will dispatch to Serenno.”
A sinking feeling began to gather in Adi Gallia’s gut at those words, like a whirlpool of stomach acid growing in size and intensity until it was a maelstrom. A whirlpool all the more fueled by General Seerdon’s next words;
“I think the answer is quite obvious, Chancellor,” the General smiled at the Jedi, as if he was doing them a favour, “Who better to lead the expeditionary force against the traitor Jedi than the Jedi themselves?”
The worst part about it? Gallia could feel that Seerdon was being completely honest, and that those were his true thoughts. Not just that, but she had a feeling that should the entire Jedi High Council be in attendance right then, the vast majority of them would also jump at the chance of the Jedi leading the expeditionary force. After all, it was justice served–and it was justice a long time overdue.
But not Adi Gallia. The Tholothian was hanging on the edge of every sentence as if it was a precipice, dreading the next words to come after. The reason? The Jedi were currently sweeping through every nook and cranny of the Works. That Temple technician, Heezo, was nothing more than a messenger who left his dead drops in the Works. The Works. A massive, utterly immense manufacturing district on Coruscant, once capable of rivalling entire planets, now left entirely abandoned as companies were driven elsewhere by rising costs and cheaper off-world alternatives.
It was the perfect place for a secret hideout. Something that innumerous criminal and smuggler gangs were well aware of, considering how many underworld kingpins and warlords called the place their home. It would take weeks to comb the place up and down, for they did not have an exact address–of course the Sith Lord wouldn’t be so careless. So now they were forced to search every hidden corner and shadow in search for any trace of their Sith Lord… despite the fact that the very Sith Lord was sitting right in front of them.
Despite the fact that the very Sith Lord sitting in front of them had likely designed the scenario to proceed exactly as it was now.
“I concur,” Armand Isard said, “It is not only politically sound, but militarily as well. With many of the Jedi all recalled to Coruscant to restore order during the Crisis in the Core, we now may have the single largest combined Jedi fleet in the galaxy in one place… excluding the Open Circle Fleet, of course. Being the only major fleet element in the GAR not occupied by one front or another, this is one of the only forces we have to quickly redeploy to the New Territories.”
“We are currently occupied by an investigation in Works as well, Chancellor,” Adi Gallia stared into Palpatine’s eyes, “So this Jedi Expeditionary Fleet may be more limited than we would have liked.”
“Surely not all the Jedi are preoccupied, Master Jedi?” the Chancellor’s eyes gleamed with excitement, “And besides, you are tracking down a heinous criminal to the Republic. I am certain that however many Jedi agents you must recall for the Expeditionary Fleet, Republic Intelligence would be more than happy to replace.”
“It is so,” Armand Isard readily backed the Chancellor up like the yesman he was, “It is likely that this Sith Lord is the very same mastermind behind the satellite terrorist attack and Underworld Separatist uprising. Any resources you need to appropriate for this effort, Republic Intelligence will procure it.”
Master Gallia bristled, “We are speaking of a Sith Lord, Director. While the word may mean nothing to you–”
“Convene, the High Council will,” Master Yoda interjected, “A favourable answer, hopefully we will have for you.”
“Perfect,” the Supreme Chancellor never even for a second left their deadlock to look at Master Yoda, keeping his eyes fixed on Master Gallia, “That is all I request from you, Master Jedi. Thank you for your time.”
His words dripped with a mocking honey, like dangling a piece of meat before a hound knowing it could not bite. With the tactful dismissal, Master Yoda hopped off his seat and made for the door, gesturing for Master Gallia to follow him.
As soon as they were in the corridor, Master Yoda told her, “Carefully, we must tread. Knows that we do, he does. Knows that he does, we do. A game of cat and mouse, we play, where the cat is the mouse and the mouse is the cat.”
“I understand, Master,” Gallia sighed in frustration, raising a Force bubble around them, “But we can hardly underestimate the Sith Lord’s powers. We need as many combat-capable Jedi on Coruscant as possible.”
Master Yoda was silent for a while… then– “Answer me, you will not.”
He paused.
“The Sith Lord, the Chancellor is.”
Jedi Master Adi Gallia did not answer. The only answer to his question were their muffled footsteps filling the carpeted hallway.
“Hmm,” the Grand Master hummed thoughtfully, “Remain on Coruscant, I will. Continue the investigation, you will. Expose the Sith Lord, we must.”