Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Orbit of Sy Myrth, Sy Myrth System

Jospro System

“Aren’t you still a senator of the Republic, Senator Greyshade?” Calli Trilm accused.

Simon Greyshade guffawed, “Neutral senator, Commander Trilm.”

They were at Sy Myrth, one of the great factory worlds of the Confederacy. Hundreds of warships circled around the verdant world like the winds of a hurricane. Not only was Sy Myrth continuously spitting ships into orbit, but the White Hand was also bolstered by the surviving ships from Metalorn. While the Base Division, mostly composed of the most derelict ships, was abandoned, the highly mobile Head Divisions were able to withdraw in the confusion following Castigation’s gambit.

Most significant of the new additions were the two Providence-class dreadnoughts, christened as Benevolent Mother and Olympus Mons.

“Neutral or not, you are in direct violation of the Non-Communication Act,” Captain Krett pointed out.

“You would be surprised how far you can go with credits,” Senator Greyshade grinned, twirling his moustache, “Alas, this is no time for small talk. I am here for business.”

“I fear your definition of business, Senator,” I replied dryly.

“You shouldn’t!” Senator Greyshade exclaimed, “As you may be aware, I represent Columex and the Vorzyd Sector in the Senate. I’ve remained neutral thus far to protect our trade right with the Republic, but now my friends on Raxus warned me that a neutral stance will no longer protect my constituents.”

Friends on Raxus? Christ Almighty, was this Palpatine’s hand at play, or did the corruption between the Republic and Confederacy really run that deep? This guy is like the final boss of sleazy politicians. Regardless, you don’t mess with jank-ass galactic politics if you could help it.

“And yoú came to us to protect your people?” Calli raised an arched eyebrow.

“Who else?” he said, “You may or may not have realised, but your Coalition is making waves in the Separatist Parliament, especially with the upcoming Supreme Commander election. Until the First Fleet is recalled, you control the greatest concentration of warships on the Perlemian. There’s nobody else to go to.”

“So you want to join our Coalition?” I asked warily, feeling optimistically hopeful.

“Not just Vorzyd,” he grin grew wider, “I represent the entire Commonality. All five sectors; Vorzyd, Meridian, Antemeridian, Belderone, and Auril. We will contribute all of our votes, as well as eight-hundred warships.”

The Commonality was no small deal. It was a confederation of five Outer Rim sectors that has existed for decades. Initially formed to protect their interests against the growing demands from the Core, the Commonality has since evolved into something like the Hanseatic League of the Perlemian. With extensive agreements in both commercial and defensive matters, they were a bed of relative stability and prosperity in the ever worsening Outer Rim conditions. Until the Separatist Crisis, obviously.

Even then, they attempted to remain neutral to preserve their advantage, even after the Clone Wars broke out. Now, they were finally forced to take a side. A real side.

“Why don’t you just leverage your neutrality with the Republic, then?” Calli countered, “You offer big with one hand, but what do you want in the other?”

Simon Greyshade nodded knowingly, “I am glad you asked, officer. This makes matters simpler. I already have raised my protests in the Galactic Senate, but the political backing for Operation Trident is absolutely overwhelming. Palpatine thinks he can placate me, but I have already made preparations to present my resignation and hang my post. I will not stand idly by as Columex turns into another Euceron.”

Krett grimaced, “Euceron...”

Captain Krett was currently hunkering down in Ringo Vinda and fighting tooth and nail to keep the island of Separatist space afloat while the isolated world was besieged. Not only was it a strategically sound decision, it was a political statement as well. If Greyshade was right, and the Perlemian senators were watching the Coalition closely, then the message was clear:

Euceron didn’t join us. They fell to the Republic, and we did not protect them. But Ringo Vinda joined us, and we intend on defending them to our last breath.

It was a guarantee of our word. Simple as that. All those fence-sitting must’ve been rightfully wary of our sincerity. Ringo Vinda was the proof all of us needed. If the Commonality becomes a signatory, that will be another massive boost to our legitimacy.

“Correct, officer. Euceron,” Greyshade’s smile bled away, replaced by the first semblance of seriousness I’ve seen so far, “Once the proud host of the Galactic Games, now a smouldering rock in space. That hamfisted Therbon had ‘expedited’ the invasion of Euceron because they were ‘behind schedule.’ Do you know how many billions of credits in investments were lost?”

And in the end, it returns back to what actually mattered. Money. Typical, that’s what it was. The real reason Senator Greyshade wanted to hop on the bandwagon was to protect his assets, and if he could spin it as ‘a senator looking out for his constituents’ all the better for him. For us however, well, as Calli put it succinctly, the offer was far too good to be true.

“And what does the Commonality want in return?” I bit the bullet.

“Equal standing in the Coalition,” Greyshade put bluntly, “Our forces will be commanded by an independent officer of our choosing. One who will have an equal seat and voice in your decision-making processes. That is all.”

“And do you have someone in mind for this role?” Calli asked tentatively.

“My cousin, Diedrich Greyshade.”

I could’ve slammed my head into a table, if there was a table in front of me.

“Worry not, officers,” Senator Greyshade bore a look that implied he knew exactly what they were thinking at that moment, “He has served several tours of duty in his time in the Commonality’s Joint Security Force. He may not have transferred to the Confederacy’s officer corps, but he is capable nonetheless.”

I flattened my expression, “Thank you, Senator. We will consider your proposal and contact you later.”

Simon Greyshade fixed me with a calculating stare, despite the smile that seemed permanently fixed onto his face, “Consider it well, officer. I look forward to your answer.”

His hologram winked out of existence.

“We can’t refuse him, and he knows it,” Krett immediately stated, “This isn’t even worth discussion.”

“The officer corps won’t protest. Our member worlds will,” Calli raised another point of view, “The Commonality is joining us as a whole. That’ll be a powerful subfaction within our own subfaction. What if they try to subsume us from within? They definitely have the capital to do so.”

“She has a point,” I said.

“What of it?” Krett shot back, “The Coalition was a creation of necessity. Once this invasion passes, the Coalition is of no use to us anymore. Let the Commonality keep the empty name, all the other worlds will leave too. Without a common enemy, that is.”

“He has a point,” I said.

Calli levelled me a glare that said shut the fuck up.

“When Senator Greyshade said the Coalition is making waves in Parliament, he was not referring to our war out here,” she explained in a slow, measured tone; as if speaking to a child, “The Coalition has enough star systems under its name that we have become a new voting bloc in Parliament–one divided by militarists and pacifists. Do you understand? We control the swing votes in a hung government.”

“She has a point,” I said, this time more seriously.

“That may be the case, but we’re still fighting a war,” Krett snorted, “Votes–swing votes or not–don’t mean anything to us. We aren’t begging worlds for their political capital; we want their warships.”

“That...” Calli flicked a glance at me, “May depend on your point of view.”

This time, it was my turn to level her a stare that said shut the fuck up.

The Neimodian scoffed, “Whatever. Bring it up with the rest; just know that I recommend accepting his deal.”

Calli turned to me as Krett disconnected, the scar on her face highlighted with a deeper shade of blue– “Well? What’s your plan now?”

“...I won’t even ask when you caught on,” I sighed deeply, “In any case, every vote we get is worth it. Simon Greyshade’s definitely got something up his sleeves, but if all goes to plan...”

“Will everything go to plan?” Calli huffed in exasperation, “We don’t control the votes, Rain. The agreement they signed is to ‘support the Coalition’s common interests in the Senate,’ which is as vague as it gets. You might not like anyone other than the Pantoran as the Supreme Commander, but in this case the Coalition is going to agree with the militarists that we need any Supreme Commander.”

“Don’t worry,” I sounded more confident than I really felt, “I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Who do you think I am?,” I said reassuringly, “We’ll get a representative of the Coalition to protest against Dooku’s recommendation.”

“What, are you going to prepare a speech for against every possible nominee in the Confederacy?” Calli narrowed her eyes at me, “Or... you know who Dooku is going to pick.”

Ah. Shit.

“I do.”

“How? How do you know but I don’t?” she snarled, “Are they going to be someone I know?”

“I– I don’t think so?” I almost blurted out ‘I watched Revenge of the Sith’ there– “I’m quite certain Dooku is going to pull a literal nobody out of his ass.”

No-body, heh. I snorted at my own joke–which Calli didn’t take too kindly, judging from how she seemed to be actively inspecting me as if I’m some sort of abominable Felucian insect.

“And... and who was on your mind to speak before the Senate?” she pressed further, “Yourself?”

Dooku has probably done some digging into the Coalition’s origins by now, as must know the names of the original thirty or so officers who created the initial pact. My name must be among them, but hopefully I’m only in the list and not top of the list. In fact, I’m half-certain sure Calli herself should be at the top.

“I was thinking you, actually,” I admitted, hastily continuing before she could rail at me, “I mean, you are the face of the Coalition. And the Battle of Salvara has made you pretty famous. Not to mention, you were Dooku’s second. Hearing you speak against him would be rather impactful.”

She scoffed in disbelief, brow nearly rising into her hairline, “I am Dooku’s second, Rain. And I’m not about to lose my position over a vote that may or may not succeed. Unlike you, I have quite a bit to lose.”

“You’re still working with us,” I pointed out, “If you are Dooku’s second, shouldn’t you have...”

I trailed off, a sinking feeling coming onto me. It was as if someone increased in internal pressure of Repulse, there was a force pressing down on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

“What?” she demanded.

“I heard something from Horgo Shive,” I said softly, “About how someone leaked the Aurora Auxiliary Division to the Republic Navy.”

A flash of surprise crossed her eyes, followed by wary uneasiness. She hid it well enough that anybody else might miss it, but I’ve known her too long to fail to recognise the signs.

“What are you implying?” she spat dangerously, defensively.

I’m saying you’re a Republic spy. Or rather, you’re Dooku’s spy, and Dooku is a Republic spy. Except, she wouldn’t know that. Nor would she believe it.

“You broke radio silence to send classified intel to Dooku, which included our fleet movements, and inadvertently got them intercepted by Republic Intelligence,” I accused, “That’s why Dooku allowed you to take such a prime role in the Coalition. You’re his mole.”

Which means my position has already been compromised. Fuck.

Her gaze was frigid, “I will neither confirm nor deny anything.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, “Horgo and Jorm want answers, Calli. You’ll be fucking ruined if I told them.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

No, I wouldn’t. I can still turn this around, but Calli needs to fall for my bluff. Her status in the Coalition is rock solid. But if this gets out, her reputation will fall straight into hell. On the other hand, if Calli Trilm–the person who effectively created the Coalition–couldn’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut, who can? Morale will follow her reputation. Not to mention, it might just push her even deeper into Dooku’s camp.

Ab’lon and Kay’fay made to move, but the two dozen battle droids ringing the rooftop balcony ended it with a single forward step.

“And Urval’starn will?” Sev’rance cocked her head, depthless stare boring into the young Bothan.

“Unlike them, we share no clan ties with Gna She’starn,” Kre’fey pointed with his chin, “Should you accept our terms, Urval’starn will bring you all of the western nations; Dreel’starn, Gre Shev’starn, and Kolme’starn.”

Kay’fay remained outwardly calm, but the bristling of her coat betrayed her true emotions. It was a good investment to study the Bothan Wrendui, Sev’rance mused inwardly. Compared to the west’s two, the east offered the influence of four nations. Enough to tip the balance in the Bothan Council.

“Do not be fooled by him, General,” Ab’lon warned, “Notice that he speaks not of the most powerful city-state of the east, Odve’starn–”

Sev’rance’s attention drifted away from the bickering Bothans. These people are so... primitive. Even if General Ba’kif himself told her these kinds of species existed back when she was still a sky-walker cadet on Naporar, she would’ve called him a poor liar.

For all their competitiveness and political ingenuity, the Bothans could achieve so much more if they’d work together than against. Their whole cultural philosophy glorifies murder and mistrust, and without genuine trust... this. What other race would squabble to earn the graces of their enemy, even if only to further their own gains?

Sev’rance blinked. Her skin prickled. Something in the air changed, and none of the Bothans recognised it. She discreetly looked around, pretending to be deep in thought as she scanned the mountainside forest behind them. A flash of red light–the muffled discharge of a blaster–a streaking ray of death.

Her head exploded in a cloud of red mist, the bolt shearing straight through her skull and shattering the stone tiles beneath her feet. As her body dropped onto the ground, a sinking void seeped into her chest, and Sev’rance realised she had died.

She was intimately comfortable with the feeling. How many times had she died as a sky-walker, ripped apart by black holes, vaporised by pulsars, wrecked in anarchic nebulae, and crushed by solar dragons? The Third Sight was precognition, not intuition. Intuition came with experience, and experience came with learning how to navigate through hyperspace through trial and error.

Most sky-walkers enter service at seven years of age and lose their Sight by fifteen. Sev’rance Tann was twenty-six.

She had more experience with dying than any Chiss alive.

Sev’rance blinked, drawing her lightsaber and igniting its golden blade within the fraction of a second, swinging around and batting the crackling red lightning into the rooftop. The tiles shattered in an explosion of dust and shards, slicing into her skin and riddling her uniform with holes. The three Bothans leapt away in alarm, and the battle droid escort opened fire, saturating the assassin’s last known position with fire.

Holding out her saber before her, Sev’rance slowly brought a comlink to her mouth, “Colonel.”

“On it, General.”

“The Spynet must be growing desperate,” Kre’fey hissed, “To act so outwardly.”

“They are still here,” Sev’rance said.

His jaw clamped shut, eyes darting wildly.

“Go downstairs.”

The three Bothans quickly agreed, scampering down the stairs. Sev’rance stood still as a statue, waiting for the sniper to finish changing their location. A sense of clarity flowed through her, then– a flash of light, and she wheeled around to deflect it.

But just as she was about to knock it aside, the bolt curved around her lightsaber. Sev’rance hastily wrenched her saber leftwards, shattering the bolt in the middle. The outburst of superheated gas seared straight through her clothes and into her skin, burning out deep holes in her arm and chest.

If it wasn’t for Count Dooku’s training, she would have died for the last time.

Just as she prepared for another shot, the forest suddenly came alive with the roar of discharging blasters. Hurried stomping reached her ears as Colonel Farstar marched onto the rooftop, dishevelled and sweating heavily.

“Forgive me, General,” he saluted tiredly, “I’ve deployed probe droids on a standard search pattern and commando droids behind them. The assassin will not get away.”

Sev’rance waited until her hackles died down before stowing away her saber.

The Colonel glanced at wounds, “Shall I summon a medical officer?”

“Don’t let a single vessel leave the atmosphere,” she ignored his concern, “Even should it be identified as a friendly.”

“Uh–” Farstar stumbled over her indifference, “Yes... yes sir. Our Bothan allies are convinced this to be the work of the Spynet. If that is the case, I recommend an all-out attack on Drev’starn as soon as possible. Sorry, General, but that was too close for my liking.”

Sev’rance eyed the canopy, and the lights flashing from within its depths.

“That wasn’t the Spynet,” she corrected, remembering how the bolt curved around her lightsaber, “Whoever that was... I sensed the Force in play. No matter how slight.”

“A Jedi assassin?” Colonel Farstar made a face, “I didn’t think they had it in them.”

“They don’t,” she hummed, “They believe blasters to be beneath them. This was a Dark Side adept.”

“A different type of Jedi?”

“Sith, or Dark Side adept,” Sev’rance said, “They prefer red-coloured blades.”

“I presume it’s not just an aesthetic choice?” no doubt the Colonel was thinking about her own yellow blade.

“Different subscription models, more like,” she mused, “It is simple tell. How many red-bladed Jedi do you know, Colonel?”

“Well, there’s Commander Ventress, and...” his features restricted, “Count Dooku. I hear he keeps a staff of Jedi too. Sir, this talk is... dangerous.”

Indeed... she expected Dooku to attempt to rid her sooner or later, but she did not foresee this. Sev’rance opened her Third Sight, peering into the myriad futures–but this time, she could not see far. There was a fog bank in her mind, through which, no matter how hard she looked, only silhouettes and vague impressions could be found.

Sev’rance retreated, certain now more than ever that the Dark Side was moving against her. And if Dooku wanted her dead, that could only mean he feared that she would get in the way of his plans. What plans?

“Have we been contacted by Admiral Tonith?” she wondered.

“If we had, it wasn’t brought to my attention, sir.”

She started towards the staircase, “Get me a line.”

Colonel Farstar nodded sharply and ran ahead of her.

The original inhabitants of the estate were missing when the droid army came upon it, likely having fled days prior. It has since then been converted into the forward command base for Sev’rance’s campaign. She took a detour on the way to the communications centre, walking through a repurposed wing of the mansion–turned into a medbay–to pick up some bacta patches for her stinging wounds.

By the time she reunited with Colonel Farstar, the blue-scanned hologram of a long-faced Muun. Admiral Pors Tonith.

“Admiral,” she greeted.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, General?”

“Have you captured Lannik, Admiral?”

“I have,” the usually boastful Muun was warily laconic.

“Very good,” Sev’rance hid her suspicions well, “I received a report from Kothlis. It appears Captain Karoc is facing heightened resistance in the local space. Bring the First Fleet to Kothlis and support his squadrons.”

“I am afraid that will not be the case, General,” Pors Tonith rallied himself into a haughty stance, “While you waste our time and resources grinding away at these Bothan dogs, our homeland is being invaded by Loyalists! Count Dooku, in his great wisdom, has personally ordered me to bring the First Fleet back to Raxus.”

“He did not inform me of this development,” she replied coldly.

Tonith’s face peeled into a spiteful grin, revealing a row of purple-stained teeth, “He has... become aware of your personal shortcomings. You are no longer his most favoured minion.”

“And you are?”she retorted rhetorically, “Is that something to be proud of? Have you no self-respect as a military man, obeying the whims of a politician?”

“I do not know what barbarian race in the Unknown Regions you hail from, Tann, but it seems you have yet to understand that war is an extension of politics,” Tonith sneered, “I follow the whims of politicians because they give the military purpose. Something for you to consider, with your unsanctioned and frivolous invasion of Bothan Space.”

Tonith took a deep breath, straightening his Banking Clan uniform, “It is in light of our prior cooperative relationship that I am telling you this. The Republic is driving a spearhead towards Nanth’ri, and soon your precious Second Fleet will be trapped. Be relieved, Tann, as soon there will be no way to reach the politics you despise so much.”

The Muun Admiral looked to his side, and the connection was severed, leaving Sev’rance alone with her thoughts. This... made no sense, political or military. The Republic may be driving to cut off the Second Fleet, but while she had not foreseen it, it was still a logical and expected effort from them. The First Fleet at Lannik was in the perfect location to intercept their forces.

Why would Dooku–the leader of the Separatist Alliance of all people–sabotage the Confederacy’s closest and greatest chance to unite two of its four largest theatres? It would not only free tied up military assets, but reopen trade between Separatist space and stimulate the stagnating economies of both the Trailing Sectors and Trans-Hydian, roping even more star systems into the Confederacy’s political sphere.

But instead, he wanted to abandon the effort she strived so hard for!

A soft-pedalled shuffle reminded her of Colonel Farstar’s existence.

“What do you think, Colonel?” she asked softly, “Tell me what you make of Count Dooku’s plan.”

“Well, sir,” he swallowed, “It looks like Dooku, uh, wants you out of the picture. And he’s bringing Admiral Tonith back to Raxus... Looks like he’s targeting you in particular.”

“Abandoning Operation Sidestep targets nobody but the Confederacy,” she said coldly, “We are this close to closing the gap between our constituent sectors, and he wants to sever them again.”

“II think he isn’t isolating the Trailing Sectors so much as isolating the Second Fleet, sir,” Colonel Farstar opined, “He’s isolating you from something happening in Raxus that he needs Tonith for. The false flag assassination was just the icing on the cake... from a more political point of view.”

Something within her snapped to attention, like a cadet not just hearing their instructor but finally understanding what they meant. Colonel Farstar may not have realised what that 'something' was, but Sev'rance Tann did.

“How long before the Republic reaches Nanth’ri?”

Farstar jolted at the precipitous change in subject, “We’ll have to send some scoutships, sir.”

“No time,” she growled, marching back out, “Prep my shuttle and have Task Force Ascendant ready for sortie. Have we completed repairs on the Negotiator?”

“Both the Negotiator and Carrion Spike are ready,” Colonel Farstar lurched to keep up with her pace, “Going somewhere, sir?”

“Good. I am giving you overall command of our armies and fleets in the Bothawui System, Colonel,” she told him, “Follow the plan, and adapt as you see fit. You have my full confidence in this matter. See this through, and I will make you a general.”

They were greeted with thundering cannons as they stepped into the sun.

“That is high praise, sir!” he shouted over the roar of artillery, “I will not fail you!”

“I trust that you won’t,” Sev’rance spun on her heel, staggering the Colonel, “And find me that assassin. Alive.”

“Understood!” Farstar was already signalling for some droids.

Sev’rance left him to it, ignoring the Bothans who were attempting to gain her attention. She will never understand politics. Dooku is a bit like a Bothan, she thought suddenly. They call him the greatest politician of the age. To risk our entire war just to spite me... either she should increase her wariness of the Dark Side, or she should consider all politicians mad in the head.