One Venator and two Acclimators crawled toward the ship at a manageable speed.

One dangerous-looking ship before the planet of Twi'leks.

One Jedi Master, one Knight, and two Padawan pupils—staring ahead to meet this foe. Each set of eyes displaying a certain something that revealed only what deserved to be seen. Steely determination; tempered apprehension; worry hidden underneath constant lectures with a glare to match the other two.

I stared. Then again, maybe they are only staring, and I'm the one with a muddle of emotions.

We're all curious Jedi. I know this because, though I've yet to memorize every muscle twitch and idiosyncratic gesture, the same thought ran through our minds.

Our enemy, the great General, who turned a battle into a massacre on Hypori, who killed many Jedi and showed no signs of remorse, was there.

"It seems we've got the right idea," Anakin Skywalker said, "There's a technological terror out there waiting to be dismantled."

The Chosen One's smooth voice eased into a tone full of weight.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. As I've completely omitted the details of how we arrived here or how I know that this ship, this terrifying spear-tip of a ship, is called the Malevolence. For the sake of drama, let's omit one piece of common sense regarding my well-being and my comrades, and let's go back three days.

Once upon a time, the Malevolence was called the mystery weapon. And Anakin Skywalker began this crusade with the intent of destroying it. A call to Jedi everywhere went out to beware. Around this time, I feared for my friend, Toshi Fumin, and his Master Sakehn. I feared for Guilo Mar, actually, and his Master, on their expedition to Ryloth, the half-planet. I feared for everyone's safety and said privately, "Hey, Force! If you like us so much, please don't kill me and my friends."

Of course, I began to think that by commanding the Force, I was disrespecting it. So I made my hasty apology, which morphed into begging for my friends to survive, which changed into me telling the Force that I'm not weak, just concerned, which ended with me reaching a compromise with the Force that I don't think left anyone satisfied because the damn war was still going on! Bizarre. Then again, if universe-changing events could all end with prayer and hope, that wouldn't be very fun.

Here was the run-down: at a meeting with a few Council members and other Jedi, we highlighted the events leading up to it. The mystery weapon had attacked three Republic fleets, leaving five Venators and ten Acclimators resembling a gruesome crime scene in space. Now, tactics were passed around by various Jedi present, but the conversation narrowed to two potential strategies.

The first was to go on the offensive and find Separatist outposts on different planets, the idea being that sooner or later, we would either find the mystery weapon or information on it. Now, on a flimsi, that sounds like a decent strategy; if it weren't for the fact that we didn't have the manpower to do it. The CIS produced droids faster than the Republic could train clone troopers, and other ships were still in production— not to mention we would potentially expose our defenses on Coruscant.

And then, there was strategy two: divide and conquer. Since we needed all the ships we could spare, the idea of finding a pattern in their attacks through staging areas to either catch them off guard or be at a perfect vantage point to jump into hyperspace at the millisecond should someone else find it first. Now, this plan also presented a risk: numbers. Returning to what I mentioned about what little we had, every Star Destroyer(awesome name) counts. We stood a better chance at defending ourselves together.

Ultimately, it was settled that we would employ the strategy that didn't leave our non-combatants vulnerable.

So, that's how Obi-Wan and I find ourselves in the Bright Jewel Sector, hovering over Ord Mantell, while Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano are farther away in the Outer Rim Territories by Bith or Chak'dor, as most will call it. Three Venators flew leisurely through the space, anticipating something great and terrible. There was hustling aboard the bridge, scattered bits of conversation from troops that seemed to expect someone to cut them off at any minute. We were all uneasy, yet we were excited. That great unknown seems to fill anyone with an orb of shivering tension.

Obi-Wan thought that I needed comfort in these times. Truthfully, I just wanted to get this over with. Not that I don't appreciate the bearded man's attempts, but— Anyway, after two hours of waiting and patrolling, nothing happened. So, we stayed two more hours, yet still, nothing provoked us. We remained an hour more before we departed for the Core worlds, and I had become restless; the Clones were robotically patient, Obi-Wan was patient, and we received a report one hour into our new waiting hours.

Master Ares Nune, a Phuii Jedi Master, had been commencing another sweep of the Phu system when we suddenly lost contact with him. By the time we had arrived, we had sent our scouts to survey the area. It wouldn't be til we returned to Coruscant, and by that time, the writing was on the wall. Poor Ares Nune and his three Venators, filled with eager men waiting for the fight, were dead.

This hit me. I had only met Ares Nune two handfuls of times, and in those times, I found him pleasant and cheerful. He was reasonable and cultured and was the one who directed me to a few books within the archives. The irony was not lost on me: Master Nune introduced me to a story that terrified me as a child. Fândyrm, the great slug, was a ginormous mythical slug, or dragon, depending on who you ask, and hid among the dark blankets of space, waiting for someone to find him. And that's precisely what's happened: Fândyrm found Master Nune.

My mindset always bothered Master Nune; he was the type who preferred dealing with one problem at a time, but he was a kind Master and would rather see Padawans achieve their best and show their souls as they do. When the Council sees your soul, he said once, they will know where your future lies. At the time, I had asked him, 'But what if we don't have your souls?' and I caused our present company to laugh when he flicked my forehead. Maybe I should have told him that I treasure that advice.

Eventually, Obi-Wan was notified that another Master had taken his place in our staging area. I can't remember who. We regrouped with Anakin in the Bith sector to compare notes. We didn't need to dock and physically walk into Skywalker's Venator when we could have easily communicated via hologram. But we met face to face.

We walked onto the bridge, Obi-Wan's hand rubbed his forehead before touching his beard, and Anakin's face was deep-set. I could hear scattered conversations and the sounds of buttons being pressed, and I couldn't catch or attend to every meaning behind their words. So, I focused on the four I was familiar with. One of these four greeted us.

"How much time will pass before you catch this mystery weapon?" said Admiral Kilian, bald-head pale, clean-shaven upper lip, and chin covered with silver hair.

Obi-Wan smirked, "Soon, hopefully." but it didn't quite make it.

"Aye," says Kilian with an aging voice tinged with an accent. It wasn't as thick as Loathsom's dialect. He walked with us, straight and willing, "Don't be ashamed, General. We're all a little tense around here."

"Clearly," I said.

Kilian looked at me, "There's no way that could be sarcasm, lad."

I raised a brow, "Whyever would it be sarcasm? We're all afraid, and sarcasm can only do so much to hide it."

Kilian nodded, "Well, yes, I see what you mean." He eyes Obi-Wan, "General Skywalker is, well, he's not taking it well."

Now, they both turn to see Anakin Skywalker, his back to us and standing tall and imperiously with his hands behind his back, staring out into the stars. The light of the stars almost silhouettes his form, as if he were a constellation bearing into the dreamers and explorers. I fixed my robe unconsciously.

"Truth be told," says Kilian softly, "I worry for the lad."

Obi-Wan says, "As do I." and he walks toward him, his robes following him.

Kilian and I share a look, and before I can follow, he says:

"And you, my boy? Congratulations on your victory at Christophsis!" He smiles, "And for rescuing our forces on Teth."

I decided I liked Shoan Kilian. He was a relatively simple man, and he was warm and welcoming and grandfatherly. Not to the physical extent that Yoda was, but more as a noble spacer who wouldn't let age part him with his ship. He should have died long ago, but he had become wise and talented aboard a vessel that he could teach young people to drink down their worries and face the cold of space with a warm heart in a crusade for the stars.

I flash him a smile and speak wistfully:

"Where is thy star? Not on the ground, but up afar." I smile, "I barely did anything; I stood around and looked pretty. Which is more than I can say for most."

Kilian shakes his head, an almost defiant look in his eye.

"I wonder if you'll say that forever when you reach my age."

I shuddered, "Growing old must be hard for a man who wants to go down with his ship."

He pauses as if caught and snorts.

"Sometimes it is," He admitted, "but in the end, the color of my beard proves that I have spent my youth, but my presence on this ship says that I'm not through with the stars." He stands proudly, "And nothing in hell can take that away."

Being who I was, having known what I know, I was sorely tempted to say they might take you up on that bet. But the man's words resonated with me, especially since he said when and not if. When I reach his age, I might do as he does and inspire the young.

I smile, "Thank you, Kilian."

"Well, we're not doing enough!" says Anakin, who I hear before I even come close. He takes a look around himself before he continues his conversation in a hushed tone. The two men had such distinct faces as they argued. Obi-Wan looked like he was taming a savage beast. Anakin looked like he was trying to vault over a wall.

All the while, Ahsoka Tano stood a few paces off, trying to decide what she was looking at—foolish girl. I better educate her.

I walk over to her, and she mutters to me:

"This is really getting to him." Her face was etched in concern and fascination.

"It would get anybody with a heart." I say, "Except Grievous."

"Grievous," Ahsoka says, seethingly, "He's the source of this grief!"

I nod. She was most likely correct. I stand there, going over what she's said in my mind, when I notice she begins looking around and coughs into her mouth.

"Yes?" I say.

"Well," she begins, fidgeting slightly, "maybe you can help me with something?" She waits for a few seconds. Awkwardly, I look up and nod eagerly. She brightens somewhat and walks down the command walkway at a brisk pace, the technicians all working silently in the pits sunken below the walkway on both sides. I watch her for a second before rolling my eyes to follow her.

Such a strange little reaction. Was she embarrassed to ask another Padawan for advice? I know I would be, but then, maybe she expected me to curse Grievous along with her. That comes later.

She makes it to the end of the walkway, past the scanners scanning for signals; next to the holotable mounted permanently on the floor was the rectangular holographic display over three meters in length and barely two meters in height. Ahsoka moves to the table and hits a few buttons in the dimly lit room of glowing white and red buttons, and the display behind her shifts to have white specks scattered around the blue lines.

Each line is vertical and horizontal, creating a square with blinking white dots scattered randomly. That was the keyword: random.

"So," Ahsoka begins, gesturing for my attention, "what I wanted to tell my Master is that being out here does give us a good vantage point to study the enemy's movements."

I took a look at this screen. These were the strike points of the sites of destruction. Each one lay in a coordinate to a certain planet, some I recognized through old reports.

All of these encounters and sightings are from Milagro, Allanteen, Hypori, Sullust, and Kalinda. So, yes, they do seem to be a bit random.

And Grievous is the type to enjoy random Jedi killings.

I keep using this word: random. It does not sit right with me, yet I cannot see why. I turned to Ahsoka, as she seemed to turn back and forth from me and the screen anxiously, and I decided to test the waters:

"What's your impression of this, Padawan Tano?"

She blinks, "Well, I've been compiling all the reports to see if there's a pattern, and hoping I can place something on the Seppies."

"That's nice, but I want to know what you think of this possible pattern."

She blinks again, and she narrows her eyes a bit at me. It might have been my flippant tone, or it could be that she hears my meaning. We haven't the time, I thought at the time.

"It's random." She says bitterly, "And trying to make sense of it would just be a trail of wild guesses."

I nod slowly, pleased with her answer. Or perhaps I was displeased. I'll admit, I can't remember.

This doesn't sit right with me. So far, Grievous' accomplishments tell of a brutal creature with a warrior's patience and the cunning to compliment it. He had precision in his tactics and ruthlessness in his approach, and there's a grandiose nature to it so everyone can see it at the worst possible moment. In other words, he uses fear, surprise, and intimidation as his greatest weapons.

Fear from the unknown, surprise from the random attacks, and intimidation from the graveyard of destroyed naval ships. So, now I pose a disturbing question: what happens when you take away at least one of these factors? Does General Grievous squirm helplessly or thrash and bite whoever catches him?

"I feel so useless," she remarks suddenly. "I put in all this effort, but it's not good enough."

Suddenly, I feel a sense of shame. I can't say why I would feel such a feeling. I couldn't have possibly done anything at that time to upset her in any way. Yet, her face contained raw frustration and an almost distant hopelessness.

Just because you suffer doesn't mean you should make everyone else suffer.

I feel like such a hypocrite. I grit my teeth silently, and I'm about to tell her that she's doing the best she can when Anakin comes over to interrupt.

"Everyone knows the feeling today, Snips." he says, "And all we can do is wait and hope we're not acting on our worst fears."

Obi-Wan is behind him, and they know what we have discussed. It's all anyone can discuss. How strange and uncertain the enemy's movements are. I'm tired of writing the word random.

But there is wisdom in Anakin's words: acting on our worst fears. That which we Jedi strive to perish or hide or ignore—the great motivator of many little people—the great weapon of General Grievous. So, don't let's be cowards now. Let's see what scares everyone the most.

"Question:" I told the other lightsaber wielders, "When is the next, most recent assault coming up? Does anyone know?"

There was a brief bit of silence.

"Why?" Anakin said. And that was the word: said, not asked. I heard a tone that suggested suspicion.

"I want to try something," I answered.

"And that is?"

"I don't know." and it was the truth. I didn't know. Yet.

----------------------------------------

Ahsoka shared a look with her Master, confused at this question, and even more so when her Master appeared to be taking it seriously.

"Rex," he called. Rex detached himself from his conversation with a technician and stood at attention.

"Can we get a list of any scheduled assaults?"

"Yes, sir."

Ahsoka saw Rex retrieve a datapad, not too curiously. Ahsoka couldn't explain why, but she didn't feel like being around anymore. She began to slip away quietly to find something else to occupy her mind. It was Obi-Wan, however, that halted her movements.

"Hello, Padawan Tano," Obi-Wan says kindly.

Ahsoka stammers for a second, "Hello, Master Kenobi."

"How was your session with Master Shaak Ti? I had meant to ask a few days ago, but…"

Ahsoka's mind returned to her time with Shaak Ti, the serene, unreadable Togruta Jedi. Shaak Ti was among the most distinguished Jedi on the Council and had seen Ahsoka's gifted nature. This qualified her to help Ahsoka through their nature as Togruta natives, their culture, and their minds. Shaak Ti sensed Ahsoka's grief and helped her process her actions on Tatooine.

Ahsoka frowned for a moment and resumed her mind on this conversation:

"It went well," Ahsoka said, mustering a small smile.

Obi-Wan's smile matched hers. He laid a hand on her shoulder. Ahsoka breathed out lightly.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, "How is Anakin treating you?"

Ahsoka didn't answer, not immediately. She turned her head slightly to see Anakin handing Zakriahs a datapad, which he took wordlessly. She turned back to Obi-Wan.

"He's alright, a little stubborn, but he's not mean."

Obi-Wan bent his head down once.

"Anything else on your mind?"

Ahsoka shrugged, "Not much I can say, really. Just that I don't feel instrumental right now, Master."

She glanced back at Zakriahs, holding the datapad she once held in his left hand and the new one in his right. Obi-Wan followed her gaze and saw Zakriahs discard these datapads, literally dropping them on the ground to glare at the projection. Anakin catches both with the Force and stares at Zakriahs momentarily for mishandling such sensitive equipment, but the boy doesn't seem to notice.

Obi-Wan said, "Did Zakriahs say something to you?"

Ahsoka blinks, "No."

"Young one," he says gently, "I won't lie to you: the times when the filter to his mouth works and the times they don't still elude me. If he said something, please tell me."

Ahsoka shrugs again, "He didn't really insult me or anything. I just told him I compiled the places where the Seps attacked."

"And?"

"Well," she says, "he didn't seem to care about that. He was more interested in what I thought about them. I told him that they didn't make sense."

Obi-Wan touches his beard. She and he looked over to see Zakriahs forcefully pull Anakin's head to stare at a blue dot, and they caught his voice saying, "...nothing is random with randomness."

Anakin jerks his head free and pulls Zakriahs' hair, the younger boy cringing as they heard Anakin say, "Takes one to know one, eh?"

Ahsoka scoffs, a new feeling filling her gut.

"They're," she begins, "like brothers."

"I suppose," says Obi-Wan, "as am I."

Ahsoka looks at Obi-Wan, his face low and almost regretful. He notices and decides to explain:

"They first met when they were children. Anakin was about your age, and Zakriahs was 8. And Zakriahs," he tried to mix the truth, then decided against it, "did not make a good first impression. On either of us."

"Really?" Ahsoka asks, "I mean, he was a little awkward with me, but…"

"Trust me, Ahsoka," he said warmly, "you're not as alone as you think you are."

Ahsoka trembled for a moment. Something in those words invited her; she forgot the cold feeling she carried earlier and the coldness of space. She put her arms down from her chest.

"Does death," Ahsoka began, "really mean so little to us?"

Obi-Wan said nothing.

"We're not carefree about our lives, right? Because if death has nothing on us, should we never feel sad?"

Obi-Wan's mind replayed the final moments of Qui-Gon Jinn, his Master. He remembered every emotion that jolted his being before feeling so exhausted. He felt shocked and angry and forced himself to be calm and helpless, as Qui-Gon's life was too dim to be brought back with any Force Healing. Every sense of frustration and sadness he's felt since then that followed his passing manifested again after Ahsoka's words.

He remembered his teachings and said to the girl:

"In death, we become one with the Force," and he remembered Qui-Gon's words, "but that doesn't mean we shouldn't focus on the here and now."

She looked at him with a flicker of hope in her eyes.

"When this is over," he continued, "we will mourn. But here and now, we need to reach our best. Think about what's at stake."

Ahsoka was silent for a long moment; then, whatever conflict she waged within her mind seemed to settle, and she nodded firmly, if hesitantly. Obi-Wan had only partially reinstated her resolution, but she was pleased.

To combat this, Ahsoka stretched out with the Force and felt within range the lives of Obi-Wan, Kilian, the Clones aboard the bridge, and Zakriahs. And her own Master, his power pulsating like a great sun, maybe two. These feelings brought her comfort and also reminded her of the responsibility she carried.

Ahsoka Tano would not let anyone down.

----------------------------------------

I'm letting everyone down. That's the plain truth. Why am I surrounding myself with people, making them think I have brains if I don't use them?

Anakin is right when he says it takes a random one to know a random one. He was only saying that to tease me, but he's not wrong. As a Jedi destroys what they were if they were born to the realms of normalcy—as he hides so much with a devil-may-care attitude and a confident smirk— well, never mind. It's strenuous on the mind, coming up with explanations for randomness. That's why I'm not doing that. I'm uncovering a hidden truth as an archaeologist discovers a long-buried ruin.

Only here, I suppose, we are hunters seeking the blood trail of a heinous creature.

I get my hair out of Anakin's hand and switch the display before me to a map of the known galaxy. On one datapad is a list of the Republic Navy's scheduled assaults for the future. On the other hand is a report containing Fândyrm's carnage spots. And I begin.

Grievous is a cunning beast despite his monstrous appetite for blood. It serves him well the art of secrecy. However, since reports describe his appearance as unique, even by galactic standards, I wouldn't expect him to sneak around the streets of Coruscant wearing a hat and coat. Though, that would be amusing. So, there's no point in implementing that into his profile. Grievous is a warrior through and through—plain and simple.

The most popular way to deceive in a war is to keep your enemy's attention on the explosions while you get closer to your objective. I will need to continue my studies on the Stark Hyperspace War if I make it back; there's a valuable insight into the tactics the Jedi used in those days. But what is his objective? To answer this, I must delve further.

There is no alphabetical order here. Only the planets in my way. Only the planets that serve the Republic dogs. And you, Jedi Master Ares Nune, though I don't know your name, are my enemy.

The thoughts of General Grievous are barbaric. Yet, I feel they are incomplete.

----------------------------------------

"Would you like some water, lad?"

"No."

Kilian has just told me we've lost contact with our fleet in Kalinda. We are one day into this, and I am still pondering this. Just five standard hours ago, we raced toward the sector and arrived too late. I can feel the stress and anxiety around the bridge, especially from Anakin. The beacon of power that he is, and it's only getting worse for him. I haven't gone back to the ship with Obi-Wan; I've asked if I can stay with Anakin and Ahsoka. I'm practically a tree rooted into this spot where I first began; so I didn't ask to stay because I felt comfortable without him, rather because I simply can't leave. I don't quite understand it either.

Ahsoka asked me to sit down earlier since there wouldn't be any action. So, I have some time to collect my thoughts. I feel no closer to understanding the mind of Grievous. Well, no, let me rephrase that: I'm no closer to tracking his movements. The best I can make is that he's leading us away from something vital, or he's crawling closer to something else. But that's too simple! It can't be as easy as that, not for his pride!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Anyway, a few other things of note: Kalinda has driven off the last of our Republic supporters. Or worse. Best not to think of the worst. There's an irregular distance between Phuu and Kalinda, and strategically speaking, there should be an immense drawback for lugging around a super weapon across space. But of course, who knows what this super weapon is? The dead know, but dead men tell no tales. None that we can hear.

And then, there's a consideration I must take that there is no super weapon. Perhaps it's all an incredibly conceived, dastardly devised, astronomically precise use of time and coordination and weaponry. Perhaps Grievous used the weakness of his enemies against them to shock them into a state of panic, making them unreasonable and shortsighted.

But the only immediate weakness I can think of specific to a Phuii is temperature change, and unless Grievous has suicidal Separatists ready to die for their cause and sabotage the Republic shuttles(which I highly doubt since that doesn't fit his character and is plain ridiculous)or the super weapon is a freezing ray(which is even more ridiculous).

So, the evidence of a super weapon is and isn't there. What a wonderful paradox! Unless I really am a moron and my imagination is smokescreening my mind…

That word 'smokescreen' is ringing in my mind. I hope it's essential.

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"Okay, so here's what we know," Ahsoka says to me, "So far, the most recent attacks are Kalinda, Sullust, Allanteen, and Hypori. Each planet had fleets that had been sent out there and failed to report back in and have been discovered to be destroyed."

"We have confirmation on Hypori?" I ask my head in my hands.

"We're still confirming," she answers.

"So, where's your 'but?'"

"...Excuse me?" She asks, her tone bewildered and affronted. I blink and look down at her.

"What?" I asked.

"What did you say?" she asks heatedly.

My brows raised, "That's what I'm asking you."

"You asked me where my…" She broke off, the purple of her lekku darkening. I looked at her, confused by whatever was bothering her.

When I found out, my face reddened, and I sputtered for a moment before heat entered my own voice.

"The 'but' of your sentence! With one 'trill,' not two!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? You phrased that so weird!"

"Okay, how dare you think so little of me!" I added, perhaps hastily, "And how dare you let your mind go there!"

She hisses, "Don't turn this on me!" then adds, "And get off of that; you look ridiculous!"

I stare at her momentarily before I step off of the holotable, making deliberate steps as I do, condescendingly. This room was a common retreat with a holo-table. I was careful not to step on anything sensitive and even more cautious of hinting at any fear of breaking something, and I pointedly ignored the tiny twitch of her lips as I landed on her level.

I take in a breath, "What were you about to say?" Before you made things ridiculous.

She takes in her own breath, "I was going to say that we've been receiving similar reports all the way in Saleucami and Dantooine."

I scowl, "All the way in completely different sectors and routes." If I were allowed to have fun, I'd take my sweet time taking apart fact from fiction and make both dance for me. But there were a few words from Guilo Marr that gave me pause.

My Master tells me that we don't get to have fun with our beliefs until we become one with them.

I can't wrap my head around how that works, but he said it with such conviction that I'm drawing my own conclusions from it. Guilo must have more conviction than I, if he holds onto that on Ryloth. I guess I'll withhold all smiles and jests until I earn that right. A snap of two fingers brings me back to the present, and Tano juts her chin out impatiently.

"What does that tell you?" she asks, emphasizing the word 'tell' for some reason.

I rubbed my forehead, "Other than the apparent mockery of my mind, all I see is the most complex game of Whack-a-Mynock I've ever seen."

"Whack-a-Mynock?"

"It's a kid's toy," I answer, mimicking the motions, "You take a stick and start whacking the cute little mynocks that pop up."

Her face wrinkled, "Mynocks aren't cute."

"I know they're not," I said, "and we're getting off-topic." I knock my forehead, "What do the others say about this?"

She shakes her head, "The same thing. And that we'd be wasting our time checking every planet." She clenches her fist, "We need a clear destination."

I nod, my lips twitching upward, "That we do." Then, I wonder aloud, "Can you do me a favor?"

Ahsoka Tano looks at me.

"Please?"

She nods and shakes her hand in a hurry-up motion.

"Could you bring me a list of every single update to all planets within the last few days? The most recent hour, if possible."

Ahsoka's brows raise upward, "Do you know how long that'll take?"

I shrug, not awkwardly, "I did say 'could.'"

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, I could do it, but—"

"Great, go do it."

"But maybe give me more to work with." She presses, "What am I looking for?"

"I don't know," I say, waving her off.

"What do you mean 'you don't know?'" She asks, "I thought you were good at solving puzzles."

I put a hand on my head, and I'm tempted to round on her. But I consider her emotional state and my own. We're both trying to avoid our wit's end, and this recent scourge is testing our limits. And the last thing she should be doing is taking it out on me. She doesn't know my methods; when I don't understand something, I learn. Ahsoka Tano was given to the Walker of Skies for a reason. So, let's find out why.

I begin calmly, "I need data. You don't make a lightsaber without the materials, do you?" I think of another example, something she would understand, "You don't hunt an akul beast without finding its trail first, do you?"

She pauses; I can see she's working the images through her mind—the mind of a huntress evaluating my requests. Then, she looks up at me, her cool blue eyes looking at me with something akin to understanding and approval. Then, she says:

"Okay. I'll be back."

She returns to this spot of the ship I've claimed as my shelter, and I'm conscious of the long walk between this and the bridge. I give her a smile and wish it could be steadier. She hands me a data pad with what I asked for, and immediately, I begin to work. I take a good look at the thick block of a list of planets; there are right ways to build, and there are wrong ways. So, let's do a bit of both.

I pull out a small memorandum from my pocket, the materials made of synthetic leather and clean flimsiplast. In this modern day and age of screens and buttons, the last thing most expect to see is an archaic use of pen'n'plast. I draw a small circle and draw an arrow pointing toward it with the word 'galaxy' on top.

"Cute, huh?" I ask Ahsoka, and she half-shrugs, half-nods.

"Are you trying to track Grievous' flight path?" Ahsoka asks, "They've already done that, but we don't know which attacks aren't just copycats."

"Aha!" I say, "You're absolutely right. We don't. But," I say, relishing this part, "what we do know is Grievous' character."

"What good does that do?" she asks, "We know he's a bloodthirsty monster."

"We know he's a cunning bloodthirsty monster who's holding himself up with principles and a code," I correct her. When I see her confusion, I go on.

"You ever hear of the war between the Kaleesh and the Yam'rii?" A pause, "I thought not. It's not a war the Jedi like to talk about." Another pause, "Well, I mean, they rarely like to talk about any war, but whatever. It was sometime before the Yinchorri invasion of the Jedi Temple but after the whole mess with Mandalore. Details are relatively sparse for the moment, but here's what I could find: the Yam'rii's colony worlds were under attack by a terrifying opponent. They had desperately tried to defend themselves, but soldier after soldier and world after world and civilian after civilian fell to a ruthless leader of conquest.

"The Senate listened to the pleas of the Yam'rii and dispatched two from our Order to cease the senseless slaughter. But the Kaleesh were hot with bloodlust and fury and could not bear to listen to anything except their weapons making contact with the Yam'rii. So, the Republic sanctioned a harsh rule over the Kaleesh fighters, daring them to continue the conflict. As a result, the Kaleesh people have been suffering ever since."

Ahsoka leaned against the wall next to the doors, and I did the same on the side of the holo-table. I could tell that, although she had a million questions, she was observing me and the story attentively. When she asked me how I knew of all this, I smiled.

"I've been reading up on a lot of things."

"Including lightsaber combat?"

"I'm ignoring that. Anyways, here's the important bit: the leader of the Kaleesh people of those demented days, the name that only popped up three handfuls of times in my texts, was one dubbed Qymaen jai Sheelal."

"Qymaen jai Sheelal," Ahsoka rolled the name on her tongue, her brow furrowing again.

"Yes," I said eagerly, "can't you just taste the evil from that sunbaked, sand-covered name?"

"What?" she asked, her face and voice bewildered.

"I'm getting ahead of myself. Now, there's not much information on Qymaen, mainly his victories and how he achieved them. Fortunately for us, that's enough." I waved my hand, "I'll get to those parts later because there's one crucial detail, of which I would be remiss to neglect."

Ahsoka cocked her brow and marched up to me with her arms crossed, "Well, can we bring this massive conglomerate and verbose appetite of bombastic adverbs and adjectives aside and get to the point?"

My mouth slowly dropped, my brow twitched, and I will admit, I was torn between clapping my hands earnestly and snorting and frowning in derision. Instead, I inhaled a rumbling breath and conceded her this moment. Though, not without a final bout of wit:

"Careful, you're teeth are sharper than mine; don't bite your tongue off with those words."

She stuck her tongue at me. I didn't copy her at all, so I don't know why we briefly chuckled. Still, this was nice.

"The point is," I said, "you have to look in other places. Like, say, the scattered accounts of soldiers who participated in the war."

Her brow raised again, "How did you get those?"

"The trick is knowing how to look, not where— wait, you said 'how' not 'where', so never mind." I brushed aside since I was supposed to get to a point, "Qymaen made an impossible breakthrough during the war, one that became his greatest double-bladed lightsaber."

"What?" Ahsoka asked, enthralled by my word choice.

I smiled, "He fell in love." I paused, and it seemed her face couldn't decide to furrow in confusion or nod in agreeance, "with a female Kaleesh, a warrior, a sword wielder, who came to him in a dream." Then, I said her name, hoping I pronounced it correctly, "Ronderu lij Kummar."

She was weighing my words, and I waited for her next question. She would ask me what happened next, and I would reveal how it was a double-bladed lightsaber.

"She died, didn't she?"

I blinked, "Yes." She nodded heavily, and I continued, "From there, Qymaen was never the same. Many things about this tale stuck out to me, especially how Qymaen would reject his old name in place for something that reflected his only option: to mourn her for the rest of his life until he won the battle. That's when he called himself," I came close to Ahsoka Tano's ear, my voice low, "the grievous one."

Her eyes widened as I stepped back, "You mean…Qyamen is Grievous?"

"If he isn't," I said, my voice cold, "I'll be very disappointed in myself."

She looked down, "You know, I guess I can see it," then looked at me, "but I still don't see what this has to do with now."

"In the immediate sense," I said, "you'd be right. But here's what you can gather simply from knowing his past. He has experience and an insane drive to finish his job—just look at how far he chased the Yam'rii. He can adapt; his desire to learn swordplay is proof of this, and despite being primarily a ground fighter, if I suspect correctly, this did not stop him from learning Naval commands. He is, perhaps, desperate to fill his heart and leave him bereft of the emptiness he feels now." I frown, "I can imagine he needs something like prizes to fuel his pride, being a cybernetic shell of his former self. The sheer pain of losing something is, regrettably, unignorable."

She's looking at me with a tilted head. I know it.

"But he is cybernetic. To receive such a crutch, you must be compensated. Lose an arm, get one back. And I can't help but shiver at the thought of them outfitting Grievous with a computer mind that analyzed everything and integrated details at an astonishing pace." I paused for her to shiver with me, "And don't tell me you think Count Dooku, Master of Makashi, he who stubbornly refused to leave that lightsaber form to the antiquity of a dark age, wouldn't be teaching this advanced killing machine the best of the best. Has Shaak Ti ever told you about Hypori? Or Aayla Secura?"

She nodded.

"Then now we know that Grievous, despite being a proud creature, will leave nothing off the table in his path of blood." I gestured to Ahsoka Tano, half-tranced and inquisitive, to my side, "And from there, we can track his movements, just based on who he is."

"Can we really?" she asked, and I could hear excitement laced with her skeptical tone.

And for the sake of distance, I said, "Even if Zakriahs can't discern his character completely, he can still find a trail."

Ahsoka Tano is a quick learner. She has a clever streak, not too dissimilar from maybe a certain scout, cut from whatever cloth weaved my skin. The Togruta girl was a 'prowler' among Padawans, and I can see the familiar influence. In fact, I get the feeling if I ask her if she's good friends with Ahsoka Tano, that imp will give me the 'you never asked' treatment.'

What else can you say except cheeka kaser cheeka?¹ At least, I think that's how you write it. Girls will be girls, is my point.

She's stepped out to fetch our Masters, so now I have a few minutes to collect my thoughts and either dispel this insurmountable sense of dread or give it more power.

----------------------------------------

"Hey, Skyguy," Ahsoka Tano said, interrupting said man's conversation with Obi-Wan who broke off from his fleet to join them, "there's something you might want to see."

She turned around, feeling that spring come back to her as she took him to Zak's little corner of the ship. Obi-Wan decided to follow and asked why they couldn't hear whatever this was where they stood.

"I get the feeling he'll be embarrassed if he's wrong," She answered, "he just doesn't want to admit it."

Obi-Wan shook his head, ruefully aware of how self-conscious most Padawans could be despite their quirks—partly the reason he rejoined his new Padawan. Anakin nodded, painfully aware that most Padawans, including himself, could be put on the spot—partly the reason he won't be going back to Ansion, thanks to Obi-Wan. Ahsoka withheld a chuckle.

"So," Obi-Wan said as they passed some bridge crew, "may I ask for a hint on what we're in for?"

Ahsoka seemed to hesitate but turned around to address them, "Have either of you ever heard of Qymaen jai Sheelal?"

Both men looked at each other, and Obi-Wan said, "That name sounds Kaleesh. I think I have."

Ahsoka nodded, "Well, Zak seems to think that he was once Grievous."

Anakin raised a brow, "And why did he tell you this?"

"Well," she shrugged, "he believes that by knowing his history, we'll know how he thinks, and then we'll know how he'll act."

Obi-Wan puts a hand on his chin, "There is wisdom to this strategy, but how did Zakriahs discover this?"

"He didn't say," Ahsoka said before stating, "I can't say I completely understand everything, but I feel like," She scrunches her face, "like we've found a key to a door we didn't know existed."

Anakin nods approvingly, "You're using your instincts. Well done, Ahsoka." Earning him a smile.

Obi-Wan's lips tightened, "Let's judge for ourselves."

For Ahsoka Tano, her thoughts continued to organize themselves in quick succession. She leads the Masters, contemplating everything she's learned. She feels more confused than ever about their dilemma, Zakriahs, and how much he really knows.

Master Yoda once said I'm wise beyond my years, she thought, is this how he feels around me?

Yet Ahsoka felt there was more than an investigation taking place. Perhaps it was his knowledge or the movements and motions he made while telling his story, or it was his voice. Something was there telling Ahsoka that Zakriahs knows more than he let on. However, she didn't understand how she decided she would one day.

Great, Ahsoka pouted, as if one wasn't bad enough.

She looked over to see Anakin's forehead creased and raised a brow pointedly at her. Ahsoka rolled her eyes but remained silent. They entered the room in time to see Zakriahs dropping to his knees, his robe draped over his figure. At once, the three Force-users sensed despair, culminating in something far wilder and more desperate. Ahsoka was taken aback, and everyone's instincts pushed them to check for any form of pain until Zakriahs spoke in an apathetic voice:

"My friend is walking into a trap." Before he stood up, "Ryloth. Grievous is creeping closer to Ryloth."

Three sets of blue eyes stared into a set of emeralds. Zakriahs swept his hand outward in what should have been dramatic but now seemed sapped of all energy. They followed his hand and saw the walls covered in drawings of white.

"See for your own seldom self," He said, walking to an oval shape with a sharp-toothed smile, above it an arrow, and above that the word 'Fandyrm.' Ahsoka was here when he drew Fandyrm first, chuckling when he drew the smile, before asking if he should be doing that. He ignored her and continued to ignore everything as he traced his figures with his finger. It depicted a long line as the trail for the worm arriving on Phu, coordinates J-13, before moving the line to Ghroman, L-13.

"There was a late report of Separatist activity there." Zakriahs said and carried on with his walk landing on a new dot, Sullust, M-17, then further to Allanteen, O-14, Kalinda, O-16, and Mon Gazza, Q-16. When Zakriahs sensed the question, he explained that Mon Gazza had lost communications with their forces days ago, which they knew. What they didn't know, however, was that Mon Gazza had officially lost to the Separatists. When asked how he knew this, his response concerned them.

"I never ordered anyone to do that," Obi-Wan said frowning. Zakriahs only nodded and moved his finger to Ryloth.

"Either they're already there," Zakriahs said, hesitating, "or we'll beat them to it. Up until now, I used the name 'Fandyrm' out of respect for poor Master Nune's stories, but I don't know," He inhaled, "I DON'T KNOW," He closed his eyes, "how big the ship is."

Ahsoka, trying to dispel the shock she felt hearing him shout, said, "You got all this from his character?"

"And the most recent attacks."

To Anakin's eyes, Zakriahs looked tired. The image of him slumped over as if hiding his face from them evoked a familiar image he hadn't felt since Jabiim. To his senses, he felt petrified and sorrowful and dead. Zakriahs felt that which Anakin had known for a year and he's only been out here for two battles. But as Anakin pushed through this mixture of confusion, he sensed something he wanted. Zakriahs' feelings and thoughts had already been like wading through dark waters, but with this despair on full display, he could feel firmly planted below the foundation of truth. He believed in what he said, and by now, Anakin knew that this boy did not say or do things lightly.

"Obi-Wan…"

Obi-Wan's brow knitted to the hands of Masterly obligation and a Genral's duty. That was to say he looked torn between disciplining his student for lying to their soldiers and analyzing this latest development. From what he knew, Obi-Wan understood how intelligent his student could be, but felt he needed more time to know where his limitations lay and teach him to be better. But the Force swelled uncertainly, now more so than before, and it was all reaching a crescendo of urgency.

"Anakin, what if this is all a hunch?"

"And what if he's right?" Anakin, pressed, "We've already wasted time on this wild bantha chase. What's one more dead end going to do?"

Obi-Wan felt a headache coming, "It's not that simple, and you know it,"

Anakin resisted the urge to close his fists, "You know, never mind. Let's ask your new, insightful Padawan." He walked over to Zakriahs, and put a hand on his shoulder, "Zakriahs, do you think this is where Grievous is going?"

"...Well, I could be wrong."

And like that, Anakin's grip on his emotions was slipping. He reached through the waters, feeling rushes of uncertainty and fear threatening to take hold of the boy's resolve.

Anakin stepped before the boy, "No, you're trying to be correct. Now, if we head to Ryloth, will we find Grievous?"

Zakriahs twisted his head erratically, looking left and up and right and down, "It's…I just—"

Aankin shook his shoulders, "Yes or no, Zakriahs!"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan warned, but he ignored his Master. He shook him again, and Zakriahs looked up dizzily, and his breathing hitched. Anakin sent a wave through the Force to quiet the waves within him.

"Yes? Or no?" He asked once more.

Zakriahs' blue eyes sparkled and welled at his words, closed his eyes, and tilted his head downward. The Chosen One knew he didn't have to ask again. Zakriahs Asher opened his green eyes, glinting with the shadows of his bangs like his lightsaber.

"...Yes." He said, his voice weighty and rough for a teenager. Anakin locked eyes with his Master, a few paces away from him. The older man leveled a light glare at both his pupils before melting away.

"Alright, but if this is a mistake," Obi-Wan purposely left a pause.

Anakin said sharply, "If this is a mistake, I'll take responsibility. Now, let's be off."

Now, Anakin took off, his robes flowing almost regally as he began to bark orders to any crew members nearby. Obi-Wan watched him leave, shaking his head lightly, before intercepting Zakriahs' path.

"We will talk about this," Obi-Wan said, earning a remorseful nod of Zakriahs' curly head. Obi-Wan studied him, carefully feeling his emotions through the Force, feeling only a calm pond with few ripples. The bearded man turned to follow Anakin, and Zakriahs forced himself to smile. He wasn't alone, after all.

"So, Clawmouse," He said, "are you ready to kick Grievous' metal hide into dust?"

After a moment, Ahsoka smirked, "Don't I know it?" Then pretended to think, "What clan are you again?"

"Heliost," Zakriahs walked with her, "It rhymes with see the most of the blanket with holes shining light. Or something like that."

This helped temper Ahsoka's bad feelings and that flicker of grief leaving Zakriahs' body.

----------------------------------------

The frenzy aboard each ship was noteworthy. The crew members did not know, or at least couldn't understand on the levels of a Jedi, why they were speeding to Ryloth. All anyone really knew was that they were—one Venator and two Acclimators. The streaking mass of hyperspace illuminated the space on the Command deck, and everyone was careful not to stare directly at it. Currently, everyone busied themselves with their duties: the soldiers aboard checked their weapons, and the technicians made certain their respective ships were operating at full capacity. The Jedi were either discussing possible outcomes to an unknown situation or reflecting on the last days of searching.

The sound of an alarm went out mere seconds before they exited their blue tunnel. When Hyperspace shriveled away and sprung the ships back into space, they were greeted with the sight of a yellow and orange mass, too small to be a sun. And the force they felt rocking and vibrating their ships made them realize, they saw one of their Republic ships being decimated. The crew watched with wide eyes, a universal question silently thrown around.

They passed over the flames, pushing through the wreckage like asteroids, too stunned to stop and too confused to understand why flames fading into smoke were surrounding their Venator like a crowd of beggars. Why didn't anyone answer? We hailed to anyone operating on Ryloth, but they never answered. Why didn't they answer?

Moving out of the smoke and wreckage floating in the cold void, they saw the gigantic dart of a ship in black at the scene. With a renewed resolve, Anakin decided since no one could answer, they should ask that ship.

"It seems we were right," Anakin said, "There's a technological terror waiting to be dismantled."

The Acclimators followed their Venator, and the order to charge all weapons went around. The ship, Fándyrm as Zakriahs dubbed it, made no movements at first. As if it were an animal caught prey with delayed instincts, it heaved itself out and away from its spot; it was trying to escape.

Not this time, thought Anakin.

"Track that ship, don't lose sight of it," said Obi-Wan. Kilian nodded, and a flurry of activity took place.

"Kinda hard to lose sight of that…" Ahsoka muttered on Anakin's side.

The chase was by no means high-octane speed and excitement. It was slow and tense and prowling but just as fierce. Everyone's finger could not stop itching; their thoughts all brought them to the images of destroyed droids, a righteous anger surging through their bodies to avenge their comrades.

Rex said, "Sir, the enemy ship's speed is decreasing."

"They know we're tracking them," said Anakin.

The ship was turning now, letting us see its left side with a tremendous circular spot in the center. It was an unusual detail that caught the eyes of the Jedi and sent their anxieties aflame, though they did not know why. Perhaps it was the size of this ship— the Venator was 1,137 meters long, and even from this distance, it looked three times that size. Master Yoda would likely remind the Jedi that size matters not, which was easy for a nearly 900-year-old goblin of a Jedi to say.

Anakin sent a slight push in the Force to Zakriahs, "You ready for this?"

"I don't know," Zakriahs said, giving no indication that he felt it. Anakin frowned, thinking perhaps the boy refused the levity.

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Ahsoka, holding her arms.

"Who doesn't?" Zakriahs tried to smile, "Probably General Grievous."

"We should at least make a report of our position," Obi-Wan said, already turning to their comms system a few steps behind them. Anakin followed suit, and so did Ahsoka; only Zakriahs remained with a blank expression. Obi-Wan keyed in the commands to Malastare since it was closer and had expected only to find one or two Jedi Masters appear before him. Instead the visages of Mace Windu, Agen Kolar, his Padawan Toshi Fumin, and an old man with a kindly face and lavish clothes.

"Anakin, my boy!" Chancellor Palpatine's care-worn features softened at the sight of the young man across.

"Chancellor," Anakin blinked, along with the other two, "A surprise to be sure."

"Chancellor Palpatine," Obi-Wan nodded. Ahsoka bowed lightly, choosing silence and observation. She saw the other Padawan mimic her movements, dressed in brown robes and a round face. Toshi Fumin nodded respectfully to Ahsoka Tano, while Kolar and Windu inclined their heads to the Knight and Master at Ryloth.

"How is your progress?" asked Master Windu, and Anakin found himself thanking the Force for this lucky break. Should anything go awry, the Chancellor will know where they are.

"We've made a breakthrough," Anakin said with eagerness, "We found the superweapon."

There was a stunned pause from every party that even Obi-Wan struggled to hide his smirk. He could see the barest and most miniscule of relief settling into Mace Windu's features before he caught himself.

"You…what?" said Toshi Fumin with a growing smile. Ahsoka couldn't help but shake her head at it.

"Chancellor, we appear to have discovered our Fándyrm." Obi-Wan said and after a beat, "It's what we've taken to calling it."

"Sounds like something Zak would say," Toshi said, chuckling, "Master Kenobi, is he there? He hasn't been answering my comlink transmissions?"

"Oh, he's…" Ahsoka broke off when they both noticed Mace Windu's glare aimed at both of them. Even from a distance, that dissecting, brutal set of eyes could snatch any Padawan's form of speech. She pitied Toshi since he may have been taking the full brunt of it.

"Well, this is a revelation!" Chancellor Palpatine said, finding his voice, "Have you destroyed it?"

"No, we've yet to get within blasting range, but—"

"Perhaps," Palpatine interrupted with a worried look, "you should call for reinforcements. Where—you?"

Anakin's shoulders relaxed somewhat; the Chancellor had always felt worry stir within him when these situations arose. This reminded Anakin that naval battles, physical battles, and political battles were all different. Anakin was about to dispel the old man's worries, but without warning, the Chancellor's figure began to flicker. "Mast—" he said, with a few more scattered words fading away into static.

Obi-Wan tried keying a few more commands to maintain their images, but nothing could sustain them.

Anakin called their names a few more times before they finally disappeared. Now, their expressions turned grim and alert, and Anakin bit out his next words: "They're jamming us!"

And then, Zakriahs screamed.

----------------------------------------

General Grievous watched in satisfaction as these new interlopers were eradicated. If he could laugh, he would, but that was taken from him. Many things were taken from this bone-white, skeletal figure of metal, but he does not dwell. He conquers. He raises his skull-like head high in unmistakable pride. He speaks aboard the crew of the Malevolence, his voice like the deep growl of a crocodilian creature, tinged with his accent with the purring, synthetic ghost of his former voice:

"The Jedi filth is no more," He closes his six-clawed fist, "Yet another successful test, despite the altercation. Wouldn't you agree, Count?" The cyborg's gleaming yellow eyes filled with malice sought the eyes of one taller than him, not in height, but in disposition.

Count Dooku observed these events passively. The tall, elderly man with dignified features and an iron brow had observed their newest weapon raise their success rate with a quiet, introspective approval. It did not become him to revel in carnage as a barbarian, for he was the Count of Serenno. The Lord of the Sith, known only to a few individuals, had nearly thought all of their secrecy had been for naught as this newest interruption would be the tipping point—the unknown variable to end everything.

Thankfully, they had acted at the speed of lighting and destroyed them like the rest. Swiftly, however, the Count's mind realized that the survival rate had doubled despite the weapon's effectiveness. Still, communications were being jammed, and the stragglers were trapped in Confederacy space. The Scavenger droids could make short work of them.

"My lord." A soft voice spoke. Count Dooku did not turn, but the apathetic, feminine voice continued, "You have an urgent message, my lord."

Count Dooku raised a brow at the word 'urgent' but said nothing. The Count merely turned and followed the woman out of the bridge, Grievous taking this silence as an unspoken stand-by order. The woman leads the man to a private room, briskly arriving at a communication center within two minutes. The door slid shut, and the woman, garbed in a black dress with multiple chilled blue lines reaching from the hem to her neck, carefully removed the rose-red blindfold from the pale face.

Count Dooku regards this creature with only an obligatory amount of pity as her face twitches. The blindfold, seemingly planted on her skin, detaches from her face. Her eyes are deep-set and have bags beneath them, and her eyes are bloody orbs. Her sclera and iris are red, but her pupil is the same chilled blue as her dress—the same chilled blue as his repugnant eyes.

"Am I to congratulate you once more on your success?" asked the Count, "I embrace new ideas, but if you expect me to applaud for your theatrics every time…"

The woman, as set as a stone, shifted her facial features to a wistful and sardonic smirk.

Indeed, like watching a skull grow muscles to smile, thought Count Dooku at her unnerving facial features with fascination.

She spoke in a voice not entirely her own:

"I am not a child, my Count. I am hedonistic, not a pup."

"You," the Count emphasized, "better have a good reason for this."

The voice behind the woman laughed, "Always. Harken to these most urgent words. My people wish to show their patriotic CIS zeal and shall soon arrive on thy battleground."

Count Dooku raised a brow, "And what inspired this generous charity so suddenly?"

"Oh," the voice draws, "a few things: my General and his son are homesick, my newest recruits need wisdom, and," it veers off, "the Chosen One is there."

There is a pause. It is a freezing pause that has somehow become lilting. Dooku senses the voice's enjoyment and pleasure, and it creases his brow in anger.

"How do you know this?" asks the Count.

"The entire reason I bothered to send forth my message," the voice has an unimpressed tone, "and he was just as curious to know if it works, this new form of communication."

The Count nods, vaguely aware of how timely this intervention was and scoffing at Skywalker's misfortune. It could have easily been the Count's misfortune. Yoda's new Starchild, having found his way here suddenly, should have been expected. Nothing should surprise Dooku these days—nothing should.

"Very well," Count Dooku said, "but I want minimal survivors." The Count would not indulge in this creature's habits.

The voice says, "I don't need this many yet."

The call ended abruptly. The pale woman waits a few moments, a sound like rocks falling together in a static recording exiting her mouth before she ties the blindfold over her eyes. Her hairless head and face display no outward signs of discomfort, but her breath shakes at a soft yet erratic pace.

"Leave me, Siren." Count Dooku ordered, to which, the Siren obeyed and abandoned Count Dooku to his thoughts. The old man, once an esteemed Jedi Master, beholden to many atrocities committed under the name of peace and order, recalled these last few days.

----------------------------------------

Omake 2

"Oh," said I to the pointed face of my Master, standing before the doorway, "You can do better than that! Fetch me more."

I pushed him away as the door closed and quickly got to work. I dropped four of the books away, picked out the 'Revised Edition' of 'The Grieving Sun: The Kaleesh Memoirs' and flipped the book open. A flimsi fell out.

I picked it up, and read the Aurebesh: the terrorist knew one called Qymaen jai Sheelal. Come to me for a detailed account. Obtaining this was not easy.

I crushed the note of twenty words and closed my eyes.

I saw the small Zabrak girl accepting the book from T'ra Saa, a serene smile before the image shifted. The girl doesn't know that the note only has eighteen words written. T'ra Saa was bowing to a middle-aged man in a smooth yet sturdy set of clothes for his smooth yet sturdy face.

I know him. His face had high cheekbones, a large nose, a clean-shaven head, and big ears, and typically, faces like his are funny to me. But seeing him smile felt like pushing a boulder into a waterfall; challenging but satisfying. He smiled at T'ra Saa and handed her the flimsi. It has only twelve words.

The image changes again, and I see him arguing with a Clone Trooper in red armor; the words come to me in muffled echoes, as though underwater and in a cave simultaneously, but if I concentrate, I can read their lips. I don't have to, as a woman appears and says something to the Trooper. I know her, or at least I've seen her before in televised displays of Senate meetings.

This red-haired woman puts a hand on the man's lapels and guides him away from the Trooper. He subtly expresses gratitude as he's led away. He asks Senator Mon Mothma for a favor. She asks what, but he holds his tongue and says he must wait. The note has six words.

Again, a new scene plays out. A dark-skinned guard is not supposed to be on duty today. I know he's a guard because he walks in an identical uniform to a man who passes him, and they walk down a corridor of prison cells with a short Sullust woman to a particular cell. As I said, this young man is not supposed to be here today; he's been called early on short notice. But he's here to escort this woman, this journalist, away from the destructive Kaleesh prisoner.

The Sullust woman asks if there's a refresher nearby, and after a half hour of walking and waiting in uncomfortable silence, she walks into the room for females and takes out her flimsi. She scribbles words down, but nothing appears on the note. There are no words on the flimsi.

She walks back out, casually mentioning that she has faith in the Jedi. And asks the young guard. He answers yes automatically. The Sullust woman only smiles as she departs from her friend. As she walks out on the street, she bumps into the tall man with a clean-shaven head. They pretend not to know each other as she discreetly passes the flimsi to him, and they walk in opposite directions, her to her hotel and him to the Senate Building.

I open my eyes and find myself back in my room. As Obi-Wan enters, I remind myself to thank Master Saa for the effort.