Chapter 60

Eastern Veil, Llon Nebula

Itopol Sector

“It is not our intention to kill you here, Ventress.”

Naradan D’ulin crossed her arms, as if she were not at all engaged in a tense, three-way standoff between an unstable Sith assassin and a famed Jedi Knight. One might think, wrongly, that being ordinary mercenaries meant the Mistryl Shadow Guard were at a disadvantage, but that would be a mistake. The Mistryl were well-prepared for such an exchange–for any exchange, really–and Anakin himself would be remiss to underestimate them. There was a reason Emberlene built an army out of them, and a reason somebody as canny as the Hydra hired them.

He noticed the curved handle of a concealed sword at Naradan’s waist, and the bejewelled ends of multiple hair pins neatly sheathed into thick black hair, and Anakin Skywalker knew there wouldn’t be a fight without some nasty losses. Those swords could be phrik, or cortosis-weave, and those hairpins could be zenji needles. Anakin was more worried about the zenji needles; they were poisoned, for one, and the Mistryl were known for cracking and piercing armour just by throwing them hard enough.

“I am unsure why you would be after me, then,” Ventress’ voice was hoarse, and paranoid.

Her presence in the Force was... unstable, maddened, even panicking. Ventress is riding high on adrenaline, Anakin realised that. That... didn’t happen with Ventress, in his not-so friendly experience with the Sith Acolyte. Even during their torrential duel on Yavin-IV, it was Anakin who was aggravated and wild, while Ventress remained as silent and cool as a sliding blade. This loss of control... could only mean something drastic had happened to her.

“The Admiral has already given you a way out,” Naradan continued, her Mistryl fanning out behind her, “You’ve had enough time to realise this.”

Similarly, Commander Appo seized the opportunity to secure the bridge compartment, a flash of hand signals ordering the 501st troopers to tactically mirror the Mistryl on the opposite side of the room. Anakin eyed the dimensions of the compartment, and the sizes of its openings–namely the two bulkheads on forward and aft. If a firefight were to break out, there was a good chance nobody was getting out...

Anakin took on a stance Dooku was likely to take; a simple Form II stance with a one-handed grip with the other hand clenched behind his back. He could feel both Ventress and the Mistryl analysing him closely, wondering why he was adopting a duelist’s form in the worst situation possible. Staring them down, he made a series of hand signals with his hidden hand, ordering Appo to send two squads of troopers down the port and starboard corridors to outflank the Mistryl.

He could not hear the clones’ internal comm circuits, or even if Appo noticed the order. But when Anakin’s Force-enhanced hearing picked the muffled clamour of moving boots elsewhere on the ship, he knew the Clone Commander did.

Anakin made a second signal: expect combat.

Two Mistryl destroyers had split off to target this ship, Storm-001, but there was only one Mistryl team in front of them. Anakin would bet his mechno-arm there was a second Mistryl team crawling aboard this ship at this moment.

“I don’t understand half the things he does,” Ventress snarled, “All I know is that he expected this.”

“Where is your starfighter, Ventress?” Naradan’s eyes hardened.

“Drifting in the black,” Ventress bit.

Irritance flashed across the Mistryl’s beautiful features–there was something on that starfighter she wanted–as she finally settled into a fighting stance, drawing out a handful of zenji needles from her hair, nesting them between her fingers.

“In that case, your testimony is necessary,” Naradan declared, “We will be taking you in. Do us a favour and don’t resist.”

At that moment, Anakin stepped it, brandishing his lightsaber; “I dislike being ignored, ladies. I’m afraid it’s the end of the line for you Ventress. I’d like to just kill you here, but it seems I must give you the opportunity to come to Coruscant for trial. Your miserable existence might last a bit longer that way, behind bars.”ViiSiit novelbi/n(.)c/(o)m for latest novels

“You aren’t getting out of here,” Naradan raised a fist, and the Mistryl unsheathed their weapons–gleaming black swords, shock whips, zenji needles and holdout blasters, “Listen to me, Ventress. It’s either the Republic, or the Confederacy.”

“The Confederacy betrayed me,” Ventress snarled, her twin, curved lightsabers growling with burning energy, “The Republic seeks my death. I will not die here. There is something I must do.”

“And what is that?” Naradan raised an eyebrow, “Put a blade between Count Dooku’s eyes? Not in your state.”

“Count Dooku?” for a brief moment, Anakin was taken aback, “Count Dooku betrayed you?”

Was that why the Storm Fleet suddenly fired upon itself? To kill her? Firstly, why would Dooku suddenly seek the death of his most prized apprentice? And second, how did Ventress survive?

Then, Anakin laughed.

“Count Dooku betrayed you,” he said again, just to confirm the absurdly believable fact with his own two ears, “Count Dooku led you to some secret super fleet, then ordered to kill you. That’s... so Sith.”

If his intentions were to goad Ventress on, he succeeded with flying colours. The irritance Naradan wore changed targets–from Ventress to him–but instead of leaping at him like the cornered animal she was, Ventress took them all by surprise. By taking a deep breath and lowering herself into a more compact fighting stance, pulling her lightsabers closer to herself and adopting a clearly Form III stance. With her twin lightsabers, Anakin could visualise the defensive bubble she created around herself.

“Honestly,” Anakin said, exasperated, “Why are you still holding out? This destroyer doesn’t have a hangar, and without your starship, you’re trapped...”

He trailed off, finding a certain calculating glint in Ventress’s pale eyes that forced him to re-evaluate the situation. That wasn’t the look of a cornered animal, but one of a starved beast planning out its next hunt. A cornered animal and starved beast may appear similar, but were very different battles to tackle altogether.

The 501st troopers must have noticed their General’s newfound wariness, because they levelled their blasters and carbines. The tension in the compartment heightened, until Anakin could almost grab it with the Force.

“What... what does the Admiral want?” Ventress gripped her lightsabers in reverse, slowly pivoting as she analysed the two forces blocking the exits.

The pieces started to click into Anakin’s mind. Her defensive posture, her lack of aggressiveness... Ventress is stalling, he realised. She’s protecting something. But what? Something behind her? That would explain the reverse grip. So... the data console? Should I allow her to stall? Anakin had no choice but to wait for his troopers to flank around the bridge, however, as there was no way to decisively win the upcoming firefight without them.

“He needs the Storm Fleet,” Naradan answered easily.

Anakin narrowed his eyes, “I thought you needed her starfighter?”

“I need proof of Dooku’s betrayal,” Naradan snapped, “It doesn’t matter if it's her starfighter, Ventress, or this star-damned fleet! I need something that can be presented before the Separatist Senate, something that can put Dooku’s credibility in its grave.”

“...Bonteri’s part of the Anti-Dooku Faction,” Anakin suddenly stated, “I have... heard of that.”

“Do you realise that we are not the Jedi Order’s enemy, then?” the Mistryl appealed, “The common mission of the Jedi Order and the Perlemian Coalition is to dethrone Dooku and bring him to justice.”

Anakin’s lightsaber was heavy, but his mechno-arm couldn’t feel its weight, “Answer me this, mercenary; was it on Dooku’s orders that Eriadu was decimated?”

Naradan D’ulin stilled, and Anakin knew then that Dooku had nothing to do with Eriadu.

“You may be speaking to me,” the Jedi Knight switched back to Form V, “But all I hear are the Hydra’s sweet words, and the slither of their forked tongue. I don’t know what the Jedi Order is fighting for, but I know the Republic is fighting for the end of the Separatist State. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s what I’m fighting for too.”

“Eriadu was the act of a single madman who lost everything to the Republic,” Naradan gritted her teeth, “And lost everything in the single-minded pursuit of bloody vengeance. As we speak, both Dooku and the Pantoran are being summoned to Raxus Secundus for a formal hearing.”

“But not the perpetrator, General Ambigene himself?”

“...The Pantoran is protecting him with her influence,” the Mistryl hissed, as if that pained her physically, “He is considered too important to pull off the front now.”

“Then I know where the Separatist State’s priorities lie.”

“Do not act like the Republic is all that different, Jedi.”

Anakin released a guttural growl, “I put Pong Krell in chains myself!”

As the last word left his mouth, a thunderclap shook Storm-001, filling the bridge with sounds of boots stomping against the panels as men and women restabilised themselves. The holoscreens flashed and fizzled, red light and blue pouring in through the observation bubble overhead. Then the room dimmed, a great shadow passing overhead–the belly of a Venator, flying so closely Anakin could count the gunships in its ventral hangar bay.

Then, Ventress’ poise changed again, back into a more aggressive style more befitting of the dual-bladed form of Jar’Kai.

“Ventress,” Naradan clearly realised this change, “Do not make this difficult. It was not the Confederacy who betrayed you–it was Count Dooku. We have the same enemy.”

Ventress’ eyes flashed towards the console and back, “It will be I who kills Count Dooku.”

“As you wish.”

Anakin was hardly registering the conversation, so fixated on deciphering Ventress’ intentions, that seemed to change with every passing moment. He circled back to the original question; how did Ventress survive the initial betrayal? He recalled how the Storm Fleet destroyers had abruptly stopped shooting upon each other and formed its battle lines. One could assume it was because they decided Asajj Ventress was suitably dead, but a single bioscan could have disproven that.

The only other reason a fleet of slave-circuited ships would so sharply about-face would be... because they received conflicting orders.

Ventress was stalling. Why?

Now he knew the answer. The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place in his mind’s eye. The Storm Fleet was shooting upon each other because Ventress had weaselled her way into one of the ships, and using the control codes she somehow intercepted from Dooku, commandeered the fleet to turn against the combined forces of the Mistryl and the Open Circle. That’s when Anakin and Naradan found her on the bridge.

And now she was stalling, because she was trying to extract the flagship privileges and control code rotors out of the Storm-001, so she could command the Storm Fleet from anywhere she was.

Another blast rocked the ship.

Appo broke the uneasy silence, “General, our squads have engaged the Mistryl in the operations compartment.”

A beat passed.

“Open fire!”

The 501st broke the deadlock with lasers blazing, laying down a heavy cover fire as they slowly retreated through the bulkhead behind them. The Mistryl responded in kind; first an incisive volley of zenji needles that zipped through the air that Anakin himself could barely track, even with his enhanced senses, much alone block and vaporise them with his lightsaber.

The forward rank of clone troopers dropped dead the moment the first wavefront of needles struck, filling the air with screams and splintering plastoid armour. And suddenly, the pitch of a different class of weapons joined the cacophony as the Mistryl opened up on the 501st, drawing out their holdout blasters and energy-absorbant phrik vibroblades.

“Get to the Sharihen!” Anakin could hear Naradan shout, “Ventress!”

Ventress was a whirlwind of red light, an oblate sphere of fire that blocked any and all projectiles that came her way, or the console’s way, for that matter. She ignored the Mistryl’s calls, much to Naradan’s chagrin. Anakin knew then, that the command privileges were still being downloaded.

“Appo!” he grunted, “Don’t let them reach their ship! Leave Ventress to me.”

Critically, this excluded the three who had him ensnared. Without even waiting for the three left behind, the blister airlock deflated, like a popped balloon.

“Shut it!” Appo barked, and the clone engineers deployed their own emergency blister seal just in time, before they all got sucked out of the breach.

Features fixed in a rictus snarl, Anakin converted the pain into anger, and anger into strength. Even as the Mistryl released another pulse of electricity, Anakin hardly felt it, wrapping two of the whips up with his glove-insulated mechno-arm and drawing them towards him.

Then with a Force-enhanced tug, they all but flew off their feet. Anakin speared the first through her chest with his lightsaber, and caught the second by the throat. This time, he wasted no time in crumpling her neck like a can of soda.

He stomped towards the last of them. It was an older woman, who stood defiantly against him with eyes like hard chips, valiantly attempting to conceal her shivering from his enhanced senses.

“Why?” Anakin asked, tone stony as he gestured to all the dead around them.

“Everything... for Emberlene!” the Mistryl yelled, rushing at him with her vibroblade.

The clones didn’t even react, counting the dead. Anakin plucked one of the zenji needles out of his mechno-arm and flung it into the Mistryl with it before she could even respond. Within seconds, by the time she reached him, the old woman was slumped down in his arms. He dropped her ingloriously.

“The Mistryl will have to lift the jamming to bring the Storm Fleet out of here,” Anakin rolled his shoulders, “Try to reach our gunships and have them pursue the moment they lift it.”

“Very good, sir.”

“...Do you think I made a mistake, Appo?” Anakin asked, looking down at his organic limb, now marred with a reddish lightning tree that grew up his forearm, “Should I have just ended Ventress when I had the chance?”

“I would’ve,” Appo immediately answered, “Nothing gets in the way of the job. But you’re Jedi, sir, and Jedi have their own way of doing things... may I speak freely?”

“Go ahead.”

Appo straightened, “There’s being a Jedi, and being a soldier. I know you try to be both, sir, and try to teach Scout to be both, but sometimes they contradict. And this happens. So... the way I see it, General, you need to decide which one you want to be. Or else this’ll just keep happening, and you’ll just keep asking the same questions.”

“Blunt,” Anakin sighed, “But I appreciate it. How soon do you reckon we can get back to Yag’Dhul?”

If Appo was affected by the change in subject, he didn’t show it. Clone helmets didn’t show much at all.

“We took a beating from the Storm Fleet,” the Clone Commander reported, “We’ll have to take a headcount and search for survivors. And... we’ll have to count casualties.”

And the Seppies don’t? Anakin wanted to ask. He didn’t, however, because he already knew the answer. The Separatists don’t count losses, they just churn out more soulless droids and soulless ships to replace the negative numbers on their datapads.

“Well,” Anakin rubbed his face as reality settled in, “Shit.”

Ventress escaped his clutches, again. The primary goal of this side adventure, however, was to prevent the Storm Fleet from reinforcing the Perlemian Coalition’s Armada. Whether they did enough damage to succeed in that endeavour, however, Anakin had no way of knowing right then.

He punched a bulkhead in frustration.

“Kriff!”

And the bulkhead crumpled.

⁂

Pain was no stranger to Ventress, but Anakin Skywalker had a way of making her forget that immunity she thought she built up over her tenure as Dooku’s premier apprentice.

Sprawling against the polish steel panelling of the Mistryl flagship, Ventress could scarcely recall her own pride and dignity as she clutched at her throat, her one remaining hand desperately clawing the pry open Skywalker’s phantom hold upon her. She barely registered how her entire body alternated between numb and sluggish and excruciatingly alive with torment, as her nervous system contended with the fact that she was now missing an entire arm.

At the very least, she would not bleed to death: her lightsaber saw to that. For the first time in living memory, she gave thanks to the little mercies.

“Pick her up,” a female voice commanded, and Ventress was unceremoniously hauled off the ground. She could feel her cheeks wet with some mix of tears, sweat, phlegm, and blood. She coughed violently, hoarsely, and through her hazy vision she could make out red spittle, and maybe sections of her trachea, flying free of her jaws.

Through that blurred haze of pain and numbness, she heard some alien swearing, and considered herself lucky she escaped with neck relatively intact as well. Ventress tried to take in a breath–only to come out hacking her lungs again as her throat was seared with a fiery sting, as if she were not breathing oxygen, but unrefined tibanna.

The Mistryl holding her swore loudly as she dry heaved, choking on her own breath.

“Kriff– losing her!”

“Get her– bacta– codes!”

Ventress faded in and out of consciousness for the next several minutes, distantly feeling the warship jerk beneath her feet–of which were being dragged against the ground as the the whine of an opening compartment blasted her with the fresh, sterilised scent of cleaning chemicals and bacta. Medbay, she realised hazily.

Shadows swam in and out of her vision. She felt herself being dropped onto a bed, followed by the soothing wet compress of bacta patches against her burnt skin, and the stinging pierces of multiple injections. Slowly, awareness began to return to her, her heartbeat quickening from a crawl to a pounding beat in her chest.

“W-wha–?” she slurred, coarse and rasping.

“Good, the adrenaline spike worked,” she recognised one of the shadows–Naradan D’ulin–staring down at her, “Try not to talk, Ventress. I just need you to hand over the Storm Fleet’s command codes.”

No! That was her initial reaction. Why would she give away her most powerful weapon so freely, a weapon she bled and suffered betrayal for? Still paranoid about Dooku’s and Bonteri’s schemes, Ventress was never more aware of just how insignificant she was in the galaxy’s grand plans. Whereas once she believed she was a critical piece of Dooku’s vision of a better galaxy... she now realised she was utterly expendable.

Naradan herself said she only needed either the Banshee, the Storm Fleet, or Asajj Ventress herself. If Ventress gave away the one thing that still made her valuable, then her life was all but forfeit.

So she shook her head violently, trying to force out a denial from her vocal chords, and only managing an animalistic growl.

“You want to live, Ventress?” Naradan hissed mere inches from her face, “Then give us the codes! We need the Storm Fleet to escape! The Republic fleet is tearing us to shreds! Either you give it to us now, or we’ll rip it out of you!”

There was a legitimate panic in the Mistryl’s voice. She must be telling the truth.

Hah... Dooku. What was it you said about these battlecruisers? Ventress thought humorlessly. And yet, they are so easily struck down by Anakin Skywalker. Bringing them against the Battle Hydra would be little more than an elaborate method of suicide.

“What...” it took her every effort to speak, her vocal muscles flexing and somehow scraping, and Ventress could feel blood pooling at the back of her throat from the lacerations caused by Skywalker’s grip, “...what is to become of me?”

“Dooku might have thought you expendable,” Naradan quickly said, “But you are crucial to the Perlemian Coalition’s plans. In that, you have my word.”

“The word of a... mercenary.”

“The word of a Mistryl Shadow Guard.”

Ventress silently reached into the lapels of her suit, and drew out the thin, tiny chip in shaking hands.

“Thank you,” the Mistryl took it with no small amount of exasperation, before moving away to speak to the medical droid, “Get her fixed up. I need her in fighting shape by the time we reach our next destination.”

As Naradan moved to leave, Ventress reached out, the Force prickling against her fingertips. And the woman halted, though not of her own volition.

“W-Wait,” Ventress croaked, “W-Where are you taking me?”

“...We’re returning to Yag’Dhul first, to report our progress and hop back onto the hyperlane.”

Her arm drooped, the last of her strength leaving her body. Ventress’ eyes began to close, though she struggled desperately against it.

“I... I–!” she coughed, “I should’ve let Skywalker kill me... if I knew I was going to be on the receiving end of Bonteri’s gloating anyway.”

“There won’t be time for that,” Ventress swore Naradan was smiling as she spoke, “We’ll be taking the Storm Fleet down the Harrin Trade Corridor to bypass the entire war on the Rimma Front. Once we reach the Kira System, we’ll transfer onto the Enarc Run.”

“...”

Ventress had so much to say, and too little energy to say it. Raging against her own helplessness, the once-powerful Sith assassin felt like a prisoner trapped in her own infirm body.

“You want revenge against Count Dooku? You won’t have to wait. We will finish what Bonteri and Trilm started; we will undo Dooku’s power, and tear down his authority right before his eyes, piece by piece,” Naradan told her, and Ventress witnessed only truth in the Force, “Our destination will be where his power over the Confederacy began; Geonosis.”

Geonosis. Geonosis.

The name rang over and over in her head like a bell.

“Sleep well, Ventress.”

Dooku, Ventress felt her consciousness slipping from her grasp, you should have killed me twice.

As she inserted the control codes into Sharihen’s transponder, Naradun Du’lin ordered the electronic jamming lifted and all remaining lightspeed-capable Storm Fleet destroyers to break out of the Open Circle Fleet’s iron grasp. The Mistryl were not naval officers, and this was obvious, for the hasty and chaotic withdrawal allowed the captains of the Open Circle to lay into the fleeing enemy virtually unopposed. These captains, who all realised the significance of preventing the Storm Fleet reinforcing the Battle of Yag’Dhul, each individually came to the same conclusion and purposefully targeted the engine drives of the Storm Fleet as the enemy ships turned about to escape.

The unorganised withdrawal would inadvertently decisively turn the tide of battle in the Republic’s favour, especially as the jamming lifted. Though the Mistryl managed to escape with all intelligence frigates loaned to them intact, they were only able to count the number of Storm Fleet destroyers when they emerged on the other side in the Yag’Dhul Star System.

Of two-hundred Storm Fleet destroyers, only seventy-eight escaped the Battle of Llon Nebula, of which only half was in fighting shape. To the Mistryl’s chagrin, if Anakin Skywalker’s objective was to prevent the Battle Hydra any reinforcement, then he had succeeded.