The Force Wills - Chapter 157 (Patreon)
Content
My back really wasn’t happy with me.
What little use of the Force I dared was solely devoted to keeping my energy levels up, mind alert and in the zone.
I had never actively piloted any ship for so long.
It was now nine hours after the evacuation of Coronet's central district had begun. Nine hours of back and forth, back and forth.
Joining the effort were eleven Action VI medium bulk freighters, whose main feature was the engines and repulsorlifts to hover for long periods and extend their giant loading ramps right onto the landing pads of each building. Each ship had been hastily converted into a crude passenger configuration and could swallow roughly 30 000 people in one trip.
The staging area in the east had already been filled to its handling capacity for evacuees by hour five and they were now being directed to another point in the north and the closest neighboring cities within a 100km radius.
The YT1300s were still necessary to get those trapped in smaller buildings and it had quickly been shared among the Green Jedi channels that the sweet spot for evacuees was 105 on each ship at a time and no more. The fisticuff incident on my first trip had hardly been an isolated case and it wasn’t the worst. That occurred when a crazy, frantic and suicidal corellian had managed to find her way into the aft engine bay, resulting in the loss of nearly all evacuees when the light freighter lost all power and crashed straight through a building in the east of Coronet.
The grim lesson filtered through quickly and now I had two CorSec officers, armed to the teeth guarding the Zator’s engine bay door, whilst Taria could have some actual sleep.
The other news coming through from CorSec and the Green Jedi really tempted me to simply shut down the Holonet feeds and comlinks.
The true death toll was being revised upward every hour.
I stared out the cockpit’s transparisteel as the first hints of dawn began sneaking over the horizon.
That initial fifty thousand was based on a hopelessly optimistic estimate from the natural human tendency to not want to imagine the horrific.
A prompt through the Force had me unlocking the cockpit door and letting a much recovered Taria into the cockpit.
She quickly hurried to the co-pilot seat and with a few flicks of switches, swiftly transferred primary command of the Zator to her side.
I could only nod in thanks and fell back in my seat, thumping my head into the backrest and wearily closing my eyes.
“You’ll be relieved to know that Drash has had breakfast and is safely tucked into your quarters. I left him with a datapad and he’s rather preoccupied with CSO at the moment.”
“Good,” I sighed, feeling the pull of sleep catching up to me as I let go of the Force, but my stupid mind was struggling to get the memo. “The latest projection passed half a million deaths a few minutes ago.”
“Given the size and population density, that will only go up,” Taria visibly grimaced, adjusting the flight yoke slightly as we headed north to the closest neighboring city, Carrara. Its outskirts sat 80 km inland on fertile plains and rolling hills that transitioned from Coronet’s urban sprawl to interior continental agri and industrial zones. A high speed grav-lev rail line could get you there in under an hour and it was the primary first stop for refugees who couldn’t be housed within Coronet. “The only blessing we can count on was that it was rather late in the day when the attack hit.”
“That is small comfort to the selonians. Their primary habitats are all underground beneath Coronet and there are still tunnels and chambers choked with the gas. The undercity population might as well be gone. The Green Jedi in vac suits are finding only pockets of survivors down there.”
Taria’s jaw clenched at the news, “Have they figured anything to clear out the gas?”
I nodded, keeping my eyes closed, “Some clever CEC engineer put together a disposal unit; sucks it up with a reverse airflow turbine and uses internal repulsor fields to compress it to ignition. They’ll have an entire production line retooled by the end of the week for them.”
What made it even worse was that fertile selonian females kept themselves in their underground clans and boroughs for protection. Only infertiles were allowed to go to the surface and integrate with the general population of Corellia. There were three quarter million of them alone underneath Coronet in vast tunnels, subways and basements. Any selonian directly underneath the central district and for a few kilometers out was now dead and it would’ve been more, but the government ordered the ventilation impellers shut down.
Now there was a scrambling exodus of selonians pouring up into the surface world to escape suffocation.
The pinging of the Zator’s comlink resounded in the cockpit. Taria tapped the button and frowned into the display, “There’s a general broadcast coming through, from the Corellian Diktat.”
The Diktat was the head of the Corellian ‘corporatized’ constitutional republic. I only knew of her during my extensive research into getting Garm Bel Iblis into Fulcrum and to keep Corellia within the Republic fold as much as possible.
The holo that appeared in front of us, showed a grim faced 52 year old woman, that cut an imposing yet pragmatic figure. She was quite tall for a corellian woman, topping just over 1.8 meters with an athletic build. Her fair skin with a light tan from Coronet’s coastal sun was marked by faint lines around her sharp hazel eyes; but I could see evidence that she had not yet slept a wink either there. Her dark auburn hair was cropped short and practical, swept back with a simple headband.
She was dressed in the understated style favored these days by Corellian leaders, a tailored dark navy tunic, with subtle red and gold Corellian Bloodstripe accents on the collars and cuffs, paired with a high collared overcoat bearing a seal; a stylized starship silhouette encircled by a wreath of thorns - the Diktat seal of office. She was even wearing a lightweight blast vest beneath along with a sidearm holster for a heavy blaster pistol. As much as she was a politician, she was also a CorSec veteran and liked to show that she was not afraid to lead from the front.
This was Ves Galaarn.
Elected after her predecessor, Shyla Merricope, made a severe political miscalculation early in the war - by impounding any armed ships under-construction or ready for delivery to worlds that would surely use them to fight against the CIS. That scandal along with a few others was how Bel Iblis got her resignation. Galaarn eventually became his preferred candidate and a few backroom deals later, she threw in her hat for the emergency election.
I had nothing to do with it, but Bel Iblis had made his decision as a part of Fulcrum, knowing the monster currently at the head of the Republic.
“All citizens of Corellia,” Galaarn began. “The people of Coronet, of Carrara, of Selonia's deep warrens, of Drall's quiet hills, and every corner of this system we call home.
“I speak to you as your diktat, but also as a mother, a fellow citizen, a servant of this great republic that has stood for thousands of years. The jewel of Corellia, Coronet City, has suffered a cowardly attack by the Separatists. I will not mince flowery political words and get right down to the practical, the actions of your government and myself in this crisis.
“Firstly, I’m declaring a state of martial law within the affected zones of the city with immediate effect. CorSec reservists have been called up and will be patrolling the area, keeping law and order, so our emergency services can do their jobs. Secondly, we have commandeered eleven bulk freighters to help in the evacuation, but as of five minutes ago, I’ve signed an executive directive to nationalize a further fifteen that are currently sitting in shipyards around the city.”
I inwardly winced, the Republic Senate was not going to like that, nor did I think they were going to like the rest of the speech.
“I personally want to thank everyone who has opened their homes for their fellow citizens in their time of need. Thanks must also go to the mayors of Carrara, Tyrena, Doaba Guerfel, and Kor Vella for help in housing the evacuees. Thirdly, I’ve declared a planetary aerospace lockdown. Only essential, emergency air and spacecraft are allowed to fly. Discussions are underway on the practicality of locking down the entire system, but it will only be done if the security of our citizens will be served by doing so.
“Fourthly, all droids in the Corellian system will be on a 48 hour lockdown and must be subject to a full scan and maintenance cycle before permission will be given for reactivation. Any droid, large or small, found running in the lockdown will be shut down and confiscated as a potential attack vector.”
“Also engineers from every shipyard worked together, under the heroic leadership of the surviving CorSec commanders, to reroute power grids and sealed habitats to keep air clean where it still mattered. I want to personally thank the families in Carrara who lined the grav-lev platforms with food, blankets, and medpacs, ready to receive their kin from Coronet.
“I want to reiterate, this was not charity. This was Corellia taking care of Corellia.”
“We will not wait for Coruscant to debate resolutions or send aid packages wrapped in politics. Nor will we bow to the cowards who sent this poison to our world - who did this for the sole reason of trying to drive us into isolationism and to invoke the ancient corellian right of Contemplanys Hermi, a constitutional right that has existed since before the Ruusan Reformation. Our defense forces remain ours. Our resources remain ours. Our future remains ours. And we will decide where and how to use them for our own security and freedom.
“To those still trapped in affected zones beneath Coronet; hold fast. Rescue teams are coming, wave after wave will come, until every last soul who can be reached is brought to safety. To the injured and grieving, we see you. We will not forget you. Medical ships and healers are inbound from every nearby allied world that answered our call without strings.
“And to the one responsible; General Lok Durd and whoever pulls his strings in the Separatist council, know this; you have made an enemy of people who do not forgive lightly. We will hunt you. We will find you. And when justice comes, it will be Corellian justice - swift, sure and final.
“We mourn our dead today. We honor them by standing taller tomorrow. Corellia endures. Corellia rebuilds. Corellia prevails. May the stars guide us home. Thank you.”
She gave the Corellian salute, with the thumb tucked, fingers extended towards her right temple, before the holo faded.
I closed my eyes and thumped my head against the backrest.
That could’ve gone much worse, but it was infinitely better than a fully isolated Corellia.
The mind of Bel Iblis was in that speech.
He saw the threat of the CIS as nothing more than the arm of the man currently sitting in the chancellor’s office. He was playing the game as Palpatine expected, whilst quietly moving in the background. Preparing for the best and the worst, shifting resources and talent quietly underground.
Iblis didn’t tell me everything, which I encouraged and fully understood, but I could guess.
CorSec had its own ‘patrol fleet’ - ships that would be classified as cruisers, which were rotated through the hyperspace waypoints of the sector, mostly in anti-piracy roles. That fleet had already started to steadily increase and I wouldn’t be surprised to see them working on a Venator equivalent somewhere in the deep bowels of the selonian tunnels. The best CEC shipwrights, studying the evolving doctrine of space warfare and making something that could operate not just now, but in the future.
“Go get some sleep, Ahsoka,” Taria advised.
I was surprised to find my eyes closed and was startled partially awake in reflex. “Good idea,” I mumbled and stumbled my way out the cockpit.
In the ship’s central corridor, I had to carefully navigate my feet to not trip over the people sitting on the left side.
In my quarters, young Han looked up at me from a datapad showing a video in surprise.
“Oh, uh, hi Ahsoka what-” I gestured for him to move to the small chair in the room and off my bed. He was initially confused, but then saw my tired eyes and body language, “Oh! I’ll just-”
The instant he was out of the way I practically collapsed face first onto my pillow and welcomed the sweet, sweet unthinking trip to la-la land.
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His lightsaber twirled from high to low, sending the blasts of the advancing column of droids straight back.
They were in a corridor on the eighth level of the landed sphere ship.
Aurek company along with Besh and Grek companies of the 501st’s ARC division had breached the hull from three directions, whilst six companies of the 501st invaded from the ground level entrances in force.
There was a danger that the ship would take off, which was why Grek company’s main task was to secure the engineering decks.
Behind him, Rex and his company were also steadily advancing behind riot shields - a piece of equipment that had finally passed procurement and testing for full deployment. They were made of a combination of hardened blaster proof armor and energy shielding. The shield also had a gap in the upper-right for the trooper to aim and rest his DC15 carbine on.
He reached out and crushed the repeater arm of the lead B2, his lightsaber bisecting it in the next moment and a Force push followed to bowl over four B1s, which he idly slashed through as they kept their advance going.
Thus far they had cut through the enemy at a steady pace with no real setbacks.
B2-HAs decided to change that, raising their cannon arms to fire homing rockets straight into the advancing shield wall of Aurek company.
The central corridors of a Lucrehulk sphere ship were large by design, allowing for the stupendous amounts of cargo and passengers to move through the ship’s arteries during peacetime, but they weren’t so big that the droids could fire rockets without consequence to themselves. Yet it seemed Durd didn’t care about that.
Anakin reached out the exact moment the rocket leaped out of the cannon arm.
It hung there, barely a meter from the B2-HA, futilely expending its propellant, before crumbling, sparking and detonating.
A Force Wave released at just the right time blunted the expanding shockwave in front of Aurek company.
They walked over the wreckage of nine B1s and three B2s.
Anakin almost found himself with nothing to do as the pinpoint accurate fire of Rex and his company mowed down every B1 as they appeared.
That changed on the next level they ascended, where the corridor was practically filled with droidekas who had already engaged their shields.
“Usk One!” Rex barked the command over the company frequency.
The lead troopers lifted the shields just enough for the second line of troopers behind them to gently roll droid poppers forward.
The first line of droideka’s were wreathed in EM discharges as the poppers detonated within their shields.
Anakin let his lightsaber hover and spin in front of him to manage the volume of fire pouring in at him.
He lifted all the dead droids and gave a mild Force Push.
The dead droidekas landed and bounced off their fellows' shields initially, but that stopped when they lost enough momentum to simply fall through them.
It fouled their aim and even tangled up those who tried to skitter forward awkwardly on their tiny legs.
They didn’t have enough poppers for so many.
Anakin grabbed five with pure telekinetic control through their shields and began using them to clear the way.
With each gesture of his left hand, more droideka’s were bowled over, allowing the company to move forward.
The shield troopers opened their line, allowing another line of troopers to smoothly step forward and slowly push their rifles through the helplessly toppled droideka’s shields before letting loose point blank blasts direct into the thinly armored weak points.
In just a few minutes of this, the droidekas under his control lost their shields and soon after became wrecks as he crushed them against the survivor’s shields.
With only four left in opposition he raised a hand, levitating them up and crushed them.
On the next level, Durd tried a new strategy.
‘Master Anakin, they’re trying to use the gravity system against you!’ R2-D2 chirped.
“Can you keep them out?”
The astromech was plugged into the ship’s network, just to keep an eye out for this eventuality.
‘Of course I can, master,’ the droid blurted in an almost insulted tone.
“Just checking buddy, this is a clever and innovative opponent, don’t take anything for granted.”
“Commandoes!” Rex declared.
Twelve BX droids dropped from ceiling panels and popped out of maintenance doors on the flanks of the company.
Armed with E5 blasters and vibroswords they flung themselves at the troopers.
Anakin flung his lightsaber behind him, turning it into a spinning fan of plasmatic death.
Four BXs were beheaded before they could drive their swords forward, whilst a fifth and sixth were bisected.
The lightsaber came spinning back on the right flank, disarming and killing more BX droids on the way.
The damage was done however, as five troopers were first skewered and then blasted by the commandos.
ARC troopers were far from helpless up close though, and they activated underslung vibroblades on their rifles.
In moments, the tide turned as the BX droids were engaged by a blender of high speed molecularly vibrating durasteel on all sides.
The shriek of armor parting under the blows echoed throughout the corridor, leaving only sparking pieces behind of the most expensive droid that the CIS fielded.
They finally arrived at the bridge level and Anakin carefully sensed ahead.
There was only one neimoidian lifesign ahead.
He looked up into the ceiling and noted that the panels which housed turreted defense Repeaters were firmly closed.
“R2, did you slice the turrets offline?”
‘No, Master Anakin, they have not been activated. I’m keeping a watch on their command circuitry and will intercept any signal.’
“I don’t like this, general,” Rex commented, keeping his blasters trained on each Repeater that they passed.
“Durd wants to speak to us, it seems,” Anakin said as he came to a stop in front of the heavy dual bulkhead blast doors that protected access to the sphere ship bridge.
Only one of the blast doors was closed.
He reached deep into the circuitry and mechanics of the entire mechanism that was keeping it shut and made a sweeping gesture.
The doors split and were pushed apart on their tracks.
Troopers surged forward in two lines, splitting left and right with raised weapons and filled the circular bridge perimeter, aiming at the lone figure sitting in the captain’s chair.
With a lit saber, Anakin came to a halt meters before a calmly smiling General Lok Durd.
The portly neimoidian was as always, richly dressed in frilly purple and green robes, with a huge expansive tunic to contain his weight. His red eyes surveyed Anakin with amusement and his small mouth was quirked in a suppressed smile.
Anakin scowled as he sensed, in stark contrast to what his eyes were telling him, that the neimoidian was actually frightened out of his wits, not to mention a specific technological signature that was enveloping him.
“General Skywalker,” greeted the neimoidian who now had the blood of millions on his hands. “Welcome to Lanteeb. I see my fleet gave a good account of themselves in orbit.”
Anakin didn’t answer at first, plunging his senses forward through the Force. “There is only one thing I want to know from you, Durd. Did you have any second thoughts on what you did?”
Durd spread out his hands, palms raised and smiled. “Would you, Skywalker? If you knew your actions were for the good of the cause.”
“You only care about your own wealth and power,” Anakin said with a simmering anger.
“True, but the Confederation of Independent Systems is my vehicle for attaining it. Others can fight for ideology and some nebulous bright future. I only do what needs to be done, so that your precious Republic can fall all the sooner.”
“General,” Rex coughed. “Why are we talking-”
“Because this is not Durd in the flesh,” Anakin reached forward and waved his hand through the holo-chameleon shell, which rippled from the brief interference as it tried to compensate. “He also has an actual neimoidian lackey wearing it, to fool my own senses into thinking he was actually on this bridge.”
Durd gave a slow clap of appreciation, “Precisely, Skywalker. You figured it out quite quickly. I was right not to underestimate you. I made that mistake once before when your padawan captured me. Now I have done my research on you Jedi and taken suitable precautions. Tell me, how is Ahsoka? We had such an interesting conversation on my way to prison and I have kept myself up to date on her career.”
“Her well-being is irrelevant to you, Durd,” Anakin dismissed.
“On the contrary, someone with a mind like that, with such an… enthusiasm for the sciences behind weapons and gaining more knowledge every day. Honestly, she’s utterly wasted on you Jedi. It’s also a pity that she’s not here. She might’ve actually given me a challenge in orbit.”
“You still lost.”
“Neither did you win, Skywalker. My fleet is now in the cluster and I’m looking forward to leading your precious Open Circle Armada by the nose and slowly dismantling it, piece by piece. An omen of things to come for your Republic. We are on the brink of freedom from its tyranny and the decrepit Senate-”
‘Obi-Wan, do you have any ship in tractor beam range of quadrant Besh-9, coordinates: X +4,820, Y -1,150, Z +3,940 relative to planetary center,’ he sent along the minor Bond that Ahsoka had created between them.
‘One moment. No, the fleet is primarily spread out in blockade formation. Why?’
‘Durd is in a cloaked ship at those coordinates, using an effective proxy to talk to me. I’m using the connection as an-’
‘Yes, I see. Well, I can’t exactly send a ship straight there, Anakin. Not without alerting him.’
‘Use one of our own cloaked scouts and ram him.’
‘We want Durd alive, Anakin.’
‘The scout doesn’t have to go too fast, just enough to disrupt the engines or the cloak. Scouts have ejection pods as well. One wrecked scout is a small price to pay for getting this butcher, Obi-wan!’
‘Good point, very well. I’m redirecting one of the scouts. I’ll brief them personally. Do keep me up to date if their orbit changes.’
“-Songs will be sung of this day in the future, Skywalker. Mark my words.”
“No,” Anakin shook his head.
Durd was rather taken aback, “No? Just no? Is that the only retort that the great, lauded General Skywalker can give me?”
“If any songs are sung, it will be about the day you were caught, tried and then promptly executed. I’m sure the people of Corellia, Chandrilla and Ukio will declare that day a national holiday. Your name will become a curse. Struck from databases and scientific journals. All your research nameless-”
“Ah, my dear general, who writes history but those who are victorious,” Durd smirked, his bulbous red eyes shining with satisfaction.
“In this case, history will only remember those who stopped you. Right now, you’re just another neimoidian who tried to conquer a single planet and failed. A neimoidian with the blood of millions on your hands. The Chandrillans have a bounty on your head so high, that every hunter from one end of the galaxy to the other will be lining up to have a shot. The Corellians are going to come for you themselves. So tell me, you’re very clever, you must have known the fallout this would bring on you. Got a private moon somewhere? A nice shielded estate somewhere in Wild Space? Brag a little… I’m curious.”
Durd chuckled, waving a single gray finger at him, “Trying to flatter to my intelligence, Skywalker? You can rest assured I’ve planned very well for this campaign. Every detail-”
“Three worlds hit and you’re already running. If your damotite defoliator weapon was so perfect, why didn’t you wipe out whole planets? No, Durd, you ran out of gas, literally. Tell me, was that a design flaw or did someone cut corners on the production run? Did the Separatists skimp on your budget?”
Durd’s lips practically disappeared as his anger flared, “My weapon is perfection! My targets were chosen with precise care, dispersal patterns calculated down to the millimeter. The psychological impact; devastating! Your Republic will soon come apart at the seams and the Confederation will only have to sit back and watch as I deliver my defoliator to more and more worlds!”
“So you’ve pulled more damotite out of Lanteeb and will just move your production somewhere else. Thanks for confirming that. You know, I can almost respect the sheer gall of this plan. You’ve turned a useless mineral that was once used in plasma refinement into a galaxy-wide extortion.”
Durd twitched in his seat.
“Thanks for confirming that too. You’re going to tell worlds to pay or else they might find their droids erupting with the bioweapon. As a handy side-effect, you’ll be forcing everyone in the Republic to look at any droid with suspicion or even outright banning them - which would have massive economic and military disruption potential.”
The Separatist general chuckled and sat back with satisfaction, tenting his fingers, “You won’t believe what my economic projections reveal, Skywalker. How many credits will flow, even as the frightened, fearful people in your Republic throw your droids into crushers on the mere chance that my weapon will be there. Industrial Automation, bankrupt practically overnight. Shipbuilding work time at KDY, quadrupled and instant labor shortages.”
“I’m sure Dooku must be quite thrilled. Another one of his disposable generals, doing the dirty work, whilst he sits comfortably on Serenno. Does he even know your name, or are you just the ‘bug with the gas’? If I were you, I’d be insulted. You did all the work; he gets the credit. Does he ever thank you, or does he just send more credits and orders?”
“Oh Dooku is well aware of every aspect of my operation, Skywalker. He knows my plan is potentially war winning. Just think of it. No more wasteful missile and torpedo duels that reduce entire fleets to scrap belts.”
‘Obi-Wan, how much longer? Running low on ideas here…’’
‘95 seconds to intercept. Any change in his orbit?’
Anakin shifted his farsight perspective back over the navigator’s station, looking over the neimoidian crewman’s shoulder.
‘None.’
“General, that’s actually a good point. Speaking just between you and me; this war is really getting expensive. What would it take for you to come and apply that genius of yours to the Republic war effort? Think about it, no more hiding, a lab, budget, amnesty. What would it take to turn you? Name your price.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous, Skywalker. Didn’t you just say the Corellians and Chandrillans wouldn’t stand for me continuing to draw breath?”
“Do you know how easy it is to fake someone’s death?” Anakin countered, with a lazy non-chalant grin.
Durd stared, looking mildly surprised. “Well, well, well, Skywalker. You certainly make a good point on that one. However, I’m afraid that the Republic just wouldn’t be able to afford my price. I’ve done the financial math and I’m sorry to say that it just didn’t work out for your side. The CIS is very business friendly, lacking all those pesky rules and regulations that the Republic weighs down on the megacorporations. No, I’m right where I belong, Skywalker.”
In that moment, he felt Ahsoka’s side of the padawan bond open and push a memory through.
‘Sithspit, Snips!’
He felt her mischievous giggle before she shut the metaphorical door behind her. Just for that he resolved to make her do an extra hour of sparring the next time they were together.
“Well, I’m also afraid to report that your clever financial plan has hit a little snag,” Anakin grinned widely with a distinct satisfaction. “You see, for all your vaunted intellect you really underestimated the problem solving and engineering skills of a very vengeful and motivated Corellian. You hit Coronet hard, I’ll give you that. But we got the majority of the central district evacuated. Millions got out, Carrara and other cities are filling up with refugees who are already calling you ‘the bug who missed’. Your gas is being rather easily neutralized all things considered and the method has been shared with Chandrilla and the galaxy at large.”
Durd’s mouth curled into a small smile before he began laughing heartily, clutching his considerable belly, “Oh ho, ha ha. That’s a good joke, Skywalker. Very convincing. No, my weapon is perfect and there is nothing that can be done without my direct antidote.”
“It is quite nasty, I agree, but no matter how perfect you made it. It still has to exist within the framework of the laws of physics, Durd. It’s still a gas… and any gas, especially this heavier-than-air variant, when compressed with enough force and quickly enough-”
Anakin pulled a hair from his scalp, just to get some small amount of organic carbon, held his hands up and between his palms created a minor version of one of Ahsoka’s Force Claps.
The small flame of combustion had no more power than a slight flash of light, but the point was made.
Really Snips, there must be a better name for this technique, he thought.
“What?! No, the pressure required it-”
The holosheathe flickered, turning to static, showing Durd briefly lurching out of the holoscan field.
Anakin felt the link severed and he was left looking at a much thinner neimoidian holding up his green hands and looking frantically around at all the guns aimed his way.
“Don’t shoot, I surrender! I’m just the general’s secretary… or I was… the motherless grub left me down here.”
“Rex, just secure him. Obi-wan, come in. Tell me you managed it-”
“One moment. All I can say is, the scout definitely managed to ram Durd’s ship. Both are out of commission and the scout pilots are already bailed out in escape pods. I’m scrambling fighters and a rescue shuttle.”
“Tell them to hurry, max speed.”
“Already done, Anakin. It’s now out of our hands.”
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“Again.”
Dooku raised his lightsaber and with an elegant twirl, intercepted Savage’s slash to his torso and riposted the attack, smoothly interjecting the blade to stop the reverse side of his opponent’s saber staff.
The follow up exchange of strikes happened so quickly that even Dooku found himself being moderately exerted by it.
A mild challenge that got the blood flowing nicely, the threat of death and fear from both sides nicely fueling the Dark Side, which in turn was harnessed into more strength.
He had to admit that Savage was coming along very nicely. Not just in his training in the Force, but also among the more mundane arts of warfare. He had availed himself well in command of the last few battles in the North-East of the galaxy, turning the tide of battle with his mere presence. Personally engaging and defeating two Jedi knights in the process.
“Center line, Savage. Control it.”
The big dathomiri grunted in acknowledgement, attacking both Dooku’s flanks sequentially in a blur with both ends of the saberstaff.
Dooku, equally fast, stopped the attacks with a deceptively mild shift of his blade left and right.
He was about to shift into a riposte, when he felt the summon.
Dooku abruptly shot out a stream of Force Lightning that only clipped Savage in the leg, but did enough to signal that the training bout had to end.
“Leave me,” he commanded in a tone that brooked no disobedience.
“Yes, master,” Savage growled, fighting through the pain enough to stand and only show a minimal limp as he left the training hall.
Dooku clipped the hilt of his saber to his belt and walked with alacrity out the hall, down one corridor and into his expansive office.
A slight twitch of his power pushed the highbacked chair out of the way, allowing him to kneel and bow within the holo’s scanning field. His back protested, especially in the wake of a duel with Savage, but he quickly ameliorated it with the Force.
“Master,” he greeted immediately just after he felt the connection go through and the weight of Darth Sidious’ presence in the Force became a painful weight on his being.
“Ah, my apprentice, Darth Tyranus,” Sidious’ soft genteel voice was completely at odds with the sheer nova of anger Dooku sensed in his master.
“What is your bidding?” he replied with the proper amount of deference in his tone.
“You can tell me why I must learn from the evening news that one of our CIS generals has used a weapon that I was made to understand was still weeks away from initial testing. You can tell me why you failed to keep an eye on Lok Durd. You can tell me why he decided to not just attack Chandrilla, as was the agreed upon target, but also Corellia and Ukio! In the process threatening the output of one the major shipyards of the galaxy!”
Dooku bore the towering anger stoically, even as the weight on his shoulders doubled.
“Master, I had kept a very close eye on Lok Durd, but he in turn deduced and turned or eliminated my agents. In every communique he gave me, he indicated the progress on the Project was still months away from completion.”
“So he successfully lied to you,” Sidious said softly.
Dooku had no warning as his master’s power thundered through his defenses, wrapped around his neck and shoulders, then lifted him up. He could just barely breathe as he gazed at Sidious’ giant holo that hovered over his desk. That at least meant that he would survive this holocall.
“Failure, my dear Tyranus, is not something we can afford. Not now. Not when we’re this close to the finish. Understand?”
The phrik-strong grip relaxed marginally, allowing Dooku to pull in a much needed gulp of air. He swallowed to regain some composure.
“Yes, master.”
The grip abruptly vanished and Dooku barely managed to keep his balance as he landed.
He returned to a kneeling posture, but Sidious’ presence lessened enough that Dooku could actually straighten and look up into the towering holo.
“Should I arrange for Durd’s elimination, Master?”
Sidious stared at his apprentice through the darkness of his cowl for a few moments as the dark lord weighed the matter.
“No. My plans for Corellia will need to be adjusted somewhat, in light of these events. The defoliator weapon has proven itself adequately. Make sure its plans are sent to our Deep Core facility. As for Lok Durd, he can continue to play general in the Bri’ahl cluster. If he should be captured we will simply arrange for his retrieval back into the Separatist fold.”
“Master, with the amount of civilian deaths attributed to him, perhaps it would be better for a deception, faking his death to the galaxy at large.”
“The levels of anger from the populace is rather considerable,” Sidious mused in agreement. “Very well, make the arrangements.”
“Yes, my master.”
“How fares your student?”
“Well, my lord. Savage is strong, yet obedient. He has already begun to fulfill his role.”
“So I see. Good. I look forward to hearing of more Jedi deaths at his blades. Make sure he doesn’t become the same problem Ventress was.”
“Of course, master.”
Sidious’ holo faded abruptly as the link was terminated from the other side.
Dooku waited until a count of five heartbeats before wearily standing and rubbing his neck. The Force came at his demand, energizing his body, but the subtler healing arts that he could’ve used in the past wouldn’t come.
After months of effort, failure, the glowing yellow eyes of the Sith remained. He had to resort to crude disguise initially to retain his normal uncorrupted features in public, at least until he had mastered the Sith illusionary techniques.
It had been an interesting experiment and it came with new insights that further refined his never ending quest for mastery of every aspect of the Force. Yet it would seem that the price of it would not be denied. There was no walking backward in the Dark Side.
He raised his collar slightly to hide the bruising, before tapping on his comlink.
“Yes, Count Dooku?” asked his secretary.
“I want a meeting with the strategy council in one hour.”
“I shall make the arrangements at once, Count.”
He dismissed the channel and with a few gestures, brought up a strategic holo of the galaxy.
The great plan was slowly taking shape into its final form.
He could see it in the movements of every warship on both sides.
Now it would just be a matter of time before Dooku’s own plan against Sidious could slowly unfold in the deepest shadows.
He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.
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The Zator had finally been pulled out of the rescue fleet’s rotation after our third refueling stop and what felt like dozens of trips over the last day.
The herculean task of evacuating everyone out of the central district was over.
Taria was now asleep in her bunk, leaving me at the controls.
I had my legs casually mounted on a handy part of the forward console that didn’t have levers, knobs or buttons, idly chewing away at an evening meal.
It was surprisingly delicious, showing that Mata Fhernan was a deft hand in the kitchen, even working with the limited fare available in the ship’s small galley.
I heaped another forkful of deliciousness into my mouth, gesturing idly towards the cockpit door.
It hissed open just before Han could knock, his face screwed up into a cute astonishment, his mouth gaping.
“Uh, how did you know I was there… or is that another Jedi thing?”
I swallowed, “It’s a Jedi thing, Drash. Now what do you want?”
“I finished scrubbing the cargo holds, observation decks and the main corridor. I can’t believe how dirty the ship got from just carrying people for 30 minutes at most.”
“That’s the trauma of near-death and sudden displacement,” I drank some water from a bottle. “You seem to know your way around a ship quite well for a street kid.”
He shrugged evasively, “It’s a thing I had to learn.”
“To steal from them more efficiently,” I nodded. “Did you learn that from your wookiee mother?”
Han controlled his body language impressively for his age, enough to fool almost any adult he’d encounter. It’d take the likes of someone like Rostek Horn to see through it.
“Wookiee mother? Ahsoka, don’t be ridiculous, I-”
I flicked my finger, causing his necklace to jump out of its hiding place. “I am quite familiar with wookiee culture, given that I’m the holder of a Life Bond. Now let’s try again, did she teach you?”
Han’s face flushed somewhat and he quickly stuffed the claw pendant back into his tunic. “No, she’s more of a cook… at the place where I stay. I learned from someone else.”
“What’s her name?” He looked away clearly not wanting to answer. “You’re misunderstanding my intention. I’m not going to ‘go after’ her, Drash. Why would I? She’s your mother, blood and species be damned.”
He stared at me now with suspicious, pragmatic eyes that looked very odd on such a youngster. “Her name is Dewlanna.”
“Are you happy living with her?
Han’s face twisted slightly, his jaw muscles flexing, “Yes, she… takes care of me as best she can.”
“But she’s not the one with real power in your situation. That would be the kidsman who employs you.”
Basic didn’t really have a similar word to ‘fagin’ - a criminal ringleader who trains children into doing constant low-level crimes to earn their keep. A word that had entered the English language thanks to Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist.
Han was instantly a study in contradiction; a part of him wanted to very much open up and spill everything about his contemptible gang leader, whilst the other part, which had been taught and conditioned to protect the kidsman, clamped down on the young boy’s tongue.
His teeth gritted behind pursed lips and he eventually nodded.
How much time would it take me to wrangle out a location for this asshole from Han? Not long.
Taria and I could then take the Zator, kick the ganger’s ass, destroy his whole operation, wrest the children away from him; deliver them to CorSec or whichever local agency dealt with child custody. It wouldn’t take more than a few hours out of our day.
Yet, like the curse it sometimes was, the prescience of that decision unfolded before me.
A Han Solo, fostered by a family in Carrara for five years, until the same ganger, was released from prison. A man named Garris Shrike, a former bounty hunter, who would blame Han for his imprisonment and in a fit of rage, kill the foster family and Han.
What if I assigned a Fulcrum asset to watch over Han? Intercept Shrike before he could reach the home?
The kaleidoscope shifted, the most reliable for such a job would be HK-47, but because he wasn’t available at that time for another crisis, another skein of fate would unravel.
It was like picking at an interlaced and weaved carpet; pulling a thread only for it to skew other parts completely. You tried to adjust and compensate, only to make the matter worse.
I barely held back my scream of frustration.
Han Solo needed to experience the tragedy of his early life, to become the right man at the right place and time. He needed the opposition of Shrike. The man who, despite everything, acted like a screwed up father figure, who would also teach him to shoot at a young age, letting Han become the marksman he would be. He still needed Dewlanna.
I had played my part in his life, that was now over.
I turned away and ate the last dregs of my meal, “We’ll be landing at Shipyard B33 in nine minutes. As soon as the ramp opens, you’re free to go.”
He nodded, looking down at his own feet, “I- I never thanked you for saving my life, healing me.”
“That is something you’ll never have to do. May the Force be with you… Han Solo.”
He blinked at me, his mouth slightly askew, “How… oh, Jedi, of course.” He giggled and turned around, opening the cockpit door.
“I’ll ignore the valuables in your pockets as well if you promise one thing.”
He looked back with a casual lopsided grin, “What’s that?”
“In the future, always pay your debts, Han.”
Han frowned cutely, thinking about it. “Okaaay?”
I smiled and shooed him off, “Now go, you insufferably cute little scoundrel.”
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A/N: Unfortunately, there are some lines of fate and probability that just aren't flexible. Not helped by the fact that Han is young, which makes it so much easier to screw things up. And yes, Dooku, delving so deep in the Dark Side to keep up with Anakin and Ahsoka has had consequences. Luckily for him Palpatine still needs a charismatic, visibly uncorrupted Dooku that still looks human, so he taught the Count the same Sith alchemy based illusion mask.
Have a great weekend and stay awesome folks.