Sublight Drive (Star Wars)

Chapter 88

Serenno Approach, Serenno System

D’Astan Sector

“Stars aligned,” Ahsoka murmured, “Master Plo was right–we’re here.”

Here. Serenno. An idyllic garden world, fostered and grown by Count Dooku himself. Lush rainforests and mountain ranges visible from orbit, as well as savannas, which gave way to mighty rivers that spilled into vast oceans. The gleaming silver pearl of the Confederacy.

And the end of the war.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. Oh how I wish that to be true.

Chancellor Palpatine, a Sith Lord? Not even that, the Sith Lord. On impulse, the Jedi Master could’ve immediately thought the idea utterly preposterous. The Chancellor was an old, fatherly man who championed the Jedi Order at every hurdle, even as he single-handedly kept the bickering Senate from falling apart at the seams, and holding on to the many pieces of the crumbling Galactic Republic.

But Obi-Wan Kenobi was also absent from Coruscant more often than not, fighting the Chancellor’s war on the frontlines. For every acclaim the Chancellor lauded on the Jedi Order in public, he disparaged their characters in private. For every Senate convention he prevented from devolving into the squabbling mess, the more corrupted caucuses he folded into his vast pockets. For every facet of the teetering Republic he kept from collapsing, there was another constitutional wall he eroded for his own means.

The Supreme Chancellor was the single most powerful man in the galaxy, having just completed his third four-year term in office–in an office that limits its chancellors to only two terms–and he had no intention of letting go.

As a bloody war of lasers and steel was being fought in the galactic rim by brave troopers and heroic knights, a shadow war of secrets and credits was being fought in the capital of the galaxy, by spies and politicians.

And all of it was culminating on two fronts.

One was here, at Serenno, to dismantle the Sith Apprentice. The other was on Coruscant, to undo the Sith Master.

It didn’t matter that they only won one battle–they had to triumph in both. Completely and utterly. The Sith were insidious; any victory over them that wasn’t complete gave them ample room to escape, scheme, and return.

Obi-Wan Kenobi closed his eyes and clenched his fists, feeling the linger of the dark side swirl around him like silken brocade. He felt stupid. Stupid and guilty.

Because he knew the truth from the start.

The Truth.

What if I told you the Republic was now under the control of the Dark Lord of the Sith?

Hundreds of senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord, called Darth Sidious.

And now the Sith waged a proxy war to bring the galaxy to its knees, and hundreds of senators have ballooned into thousands. Obi-Wan Kenobi ignored the truth, even when it was spoken right to his face, to the galaxy’s peril.

“Master?” Ahsoka’s chip voice shook him from his reverie.

Far from the youthful energy and confidence the young Togruta had presented to him at the start, his second Padawan had been tempered by years of constant battle, lurching from one front to another. Anxiety laced Ahsoka’s tone, as if she was unsure whether they should be facing forwards or backwards, and Obi-Wan knew as a Jedi Master he must not let his doubts infect her too.

“Yes, my young Padawan?”

“Shouldn’t we start sending out the beacons?”

Obi-Wan blankly nodded. Ahead of them–spearhead to groups of needle-nosed pickets that were screening the capital ships–slued hundreds of enemy craft. Some were thirteen year-old Vulture fighters with paired wings that resembled seedpods; others were compact tri-fighter droids; and still others were space-capable Geonosian twinbeaked Nantex-class starfighters.

The tactical holos displayed the signatures and deployment of the Separatist capital vessels: Trade Federation Lucrehulks and core ships; Techno Union Hardcells, with their columnar thruster packages and egg-shaped fuselages; Commerce Guild Diamond-class cruisers and Corporate Alliance Fantails; frigates, gunboats, and Banking Clan communications ships featuring huge circular transponders.

The whole Separatist parade.

Thousands of warships, all gathered to defend the jewel of the Separatist Alliance, and the seat of their master. He eyed the Techno Union and Corporate Alliance warships within the gathered Serenno Defense Fleet. Not even the Separatist Schism could prevent Count Dooku from calling upon their forces, it seems.

The Open Circle Fleet was massively outnumbered, and outgunned.

But not for long.

“Send it out, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan ordered.

Ahsoka grinned, a rare sight after the revelations at Botajef, “Don’t have to tell me twice, Master.”

The metaphorical flares were released, and within moments the first battle groups of the Expeditionary Fleet warped into the Serenno Star System, having been waiting for precisely this all-clear signal just up the Hydian Way.

“Albedo Brave reporting in,” first came the imposing voice of Jedi Master Jaro Tapal, “The rest of the Expeditionary Fleet in en route.”

“Battle Group Selfless, reporting,” then came the stern and blunt tone of Jedi Master Keelyvine Reus.

Despite his seniority, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but tense at the recognition of Master Keelyvine. She was a... harsh Jedi, to speak lightly. Having been recently made a Jedi Master to fill in the gaping holes of the Order’s ranks, Keelyvine Reus was a difficult person to work with. Having apprenticed under Count Dooku himself, she inherited every bit of his lightsaber mastery, and perfectionist tendencies.

Needless to say, her character ran completely counter to Obi-Wan’s and Anakin’s during a cooperative assignment to the Valdesian System two years ago, and she levied constant grievance at their constant... well let’s say banter. Still, she was an immensely skilled blademaster, albeit of singular focus at times, and had done them a great favour by imparting her teachings unto Ahsoka and Scout–even if her exacting methods did temper the two excited Padawans by quite a bit.

“Task Force Anvil, reporting!”

“Battle Group Majestic, reporting in.”

“Battle Group Demolisher, present.”

More and more fleets leapt into the system, the volume of which soon grew into a constant influx of warships, dissuading any notion of a pre-emptive strike from the Separatist defenders.

“Battle Group Integrity, reporting.”

“Task Force Dominance, present!”

“Battle Group Endurance, reporting to the AO.”

Obi-Wan’s attention was seized by the Endurance, Master Mace Windu’s flagship.

“Admiral Kilian, this is General Kenobi of the Open Circle Fleet,” he recognised the Admiral’s voice, “TF Hyperion should be joining us shortly.”

“Indeed, General,” Admiral Shoan Kilian replied, “General Plo Koon is currently clearing the Toprawa Star System. He has, however, already imparted on us the intended battle order. Standby for the formation package.”

Plo Koon is late, to his own battle? Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel a nervous energy, and an unnatural urge to look over his shoulder. Both Admiral Trench and General Grievous remained at large as well, with the former located somewhere on this side of the Salin Corridor but completely at large, and the only signs of the latter being a mass debris field around Taris.

The wreckage of the Insolent was recovered, having suffered from a cataclysmic reactor detonation. No hands aboard survived the explosion. It could only be concluded that General Grievous had crossed another Jedi off his hit list, despite the completely absent Task Force Garland. Obi-Wan could only hope Luminara had escaped that grisly fate.

Nevertheless, before he could take a look at the formation package, Endurance reemerged on the comms–with Admiral Kilian’s voice replaced by the grim delivery of Mace Windu.

“Count Dooku,” the Master of the High Council declared with his unmistakable cadence, “This is your final chance to surrender. Turn yourself in, and you will be treated with all the respect and dignity you deserve. And to the spacers of the Serenno Defense Fleet–lay down your arms and I guarantee on behalf of the Republic that all of you will be treated in accordance to the Rights of Sentience clause of the Galactic Constitution.”

Not a single Separatist warship, from the largest battleship to the smallest torpedo boat, made any signs of standing down.

“Master Windu...” Count Dooku’s polished tongue tutted chidingly, “That offer would have been more convincing two years ago. What has the Republic done to convince these brave men and women of your benevolence? You have burned down every world from Salvara to Centares, reduced Metalorn to slag, turned Mimban into a muddy hell, slaughtered the cities of Cyrillia, and now you destroy their homes. You crush Bandomeer under your heel, and tear down the skyhooks of Botajef–”

“Lies!” Mace Windu swore, “All lies! Dooku, even when we offer you quarter you reply to our goodwill with lies! You entrench your unbelievable claims, you stubbornly dig in your heels, you further immerse yourself in the dark side of the Force! Time and time again we have given you every chance at peace, at salvation, and this is how you respond? Misleading the people of this galaxy, feeding them lies, turning them against each other! When will this end? When will you have enough?”

“How defensive of you, Master,” Count Dooku chuckled lightly, so breezily Obi-Wan could have almost forgotten he was a man with nowhere left to go. Serenno was at the end of the road, and there was no way out. Count Dooku was trapped, and yet it was... it was as if Count Dooku thought himself free. Freer than he has ever been, like there was a weight lifted off his shoulders, “Or is that what you truly believe? That your precious Republic could do no wrong? That our Separatist Alliance is the source of all evil in the galaxy?”

The Force trembled. If one was to ask that very question–or is that what you truly believe?–to every member of the Jedi Order, it may as well cause the Third Great Schism. And all Jedi knew which side of this schism Mace Windu would fall on. There were Jedi aware of the faults and corruption of the Republic–those who have exchanged words in the labyrinthine halls of politics; and there were Jedi who were blind to it, willingly or not so–mostly those often absent with off-world assignments.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was once the latter. He was a man who would love nothing more than to distance himself from the complexities of the Republic and sit alone in a cave and meditate. Jedi Master. General of the Grand Army of the Republic. Member of the Jedi Council. Inside, he feels like he’s none of these things.

Back when he was learning to be Anakin’s master, the two of them were dispatched off-world to faraway missions often enough to miss the intricacies of domestic politics. Back then, Obi-Wan was still learning how to be a Jedi; because it is a simple truth of the Jedi Order that a Jedi Knight’s education truly begins only when he becomes a Master, that everything important about being a Master is learned from one’s student.

Despite then Obi-Wan’s constant headaches and exasperations about a young and rowdy Anakin Skywalker... looking back on it, it was a peaceful time. A peaceful time that made them ignorant to the growing darkness in the heart of the galaxy.

Now? Obi-Wan Kenobi was no longer the latter.

He was not Adi Gallia, who could only describe the Republic as a rotten, stinking corpse shrouded in satin, but nor was he a man who loved the Republic as if it were his parent. He valued peace above all, and for time immemorial the Republic was the symbol of it. No longer.

Alas, there were Jedi who truly loved the Republic. There were Jedi who believed they owed the Republic their lives. There were Jedi who loved the Republic as if it were their parent. There were Jedi who felt the filial obligation to protect the Republic and its Constitution. Or as Master Gallia would describe it: there were Jedi who felt duty-bound to guard a morgue, even as the world burned down around them.

Unfortunately, Master Mace Windu could be described as one of those Jedi.

Everything was just so... typical.

That was, until you look a little deeper.

The Master Jedi handed the Republic Navy the honour and glory of being the vanguard over the Open Circle Fleet, ostensibly due to the proliferation of heavy armour among their ranks. Unless, of course, the Master Jedi also knew these divisions of the Republic Navy were not part of the conspiracy.

And once you begin cross-referencing the locations of each division and the signatories of the manifesto, a certain trend begins to emerge.

Fleets belonging to Jedi and system signatories were placed in safe position in the rear and flanks, whilst Palpatine’s loyalists were placed in ‘positions of honour’ such as in the vanguard, where they were to take the brunt of the fighting. Chandrilan, Brentaalan, and Humbariner troopships were placed in the rear of the invasion force–whilst Alsakani, Tepasi, Fedallan and Ixtlari troopships were put nearer to the front.

The same went for the Jedi battle groups. Those who supported the manifesto were placed among the Open Circle, whilst those who did not were dispersed among the troopships to lead the invasion force.

The entire battle formation was designed to weed out those disloyal to the conspiracy, all the while not lifting a single eyebrow.

“Dark stars,” Diedrich murmured, “Would you look at this.”

“The Jedi are far more underhanded than we give them credit for,” Trench mused in admiration.

“Is this the act of one man, or–”

“No single man would be allowed to dictate the order of a fleet this size,” the Old Spider said, “Not even a Jedi Master. This was almost certainly designed by committee. Which can only mean the conspiracy has reached enough of the Expeditionary Fleet’s general staff that the conspirators outweigh the loyalists.”

“That’s good news, is it not?” he wondered, “With some luck, we truly wouldn’t have to do anything at all.”

Right as Diedrich uttered those words, as if the universe itself spited him specifically, the comms chief nervously raised their head.

“Sir? We’ve got an incoming transmission.”

The severe attention of both Admirals snapped onto the comms chief, making him flinch.

“From who?” Diedrich demanded.

“I-It looks like... Conqueress, sir.”

“...Looks like we won’t so lucky after all, Rear Admiral,” Trench’s gruff voice was tinged with a sick amusement, “I will receive the transmission. Prepare your fleet for imminent combat.”

Diedrich Greyshade deflated. Never a quiet operation when Rain Bonteri is involved.

“Right away, Admiral.”

⁂

Coruscant, Corusca System

Corusca Sector

Macrobinoculars pressed to her eyes, Jedi Master Adi Gallia studied the distant building top to bottom, her gaze lingering on broken windows, fissured ledges, canted balconies. Central to an industrial arcology the size of a small city on any other world, the building was more than three centuries old and going to ruin. For two-thirds of its towering height it was an unadorned pillar with a rounded summit. Support for the superstructure was afforded by a circular base, reinforced by massive buttresses. Where the superstructure and the sloped tops of the buttresses met, the building was dotted by windows and antiquated gear-toothed docking gates. Many of the permaglass panels and skylights were intact, but time and corrosion had done their worst to the ancient facade.

An investigation was underway to determine which company had raised the building, and who owned it–although, judging by its location and prominence in the Works, it appeared to have served as corporate headquarters for the factories and assembly plants that surrounded it.

Adi Gallia and her team of Jedi, clone shocktroopers, and Republic Intelligence operatives were a klick east of the structure, in an area of squat, peak-roofed foundries, lorded over by smoke-belching permacrete stacks. Five hours spent here could take five years off someone’s life, she thought humorlessly, I would be doing less damage to my lungs on Skako than here.

All in all, the perfect environment for a Dark Lord of the Sith.

“Probe remotes are away, General Gallia,” Clone Commander Thorn of the Coruscant Guard reported.

Adi wordlessly trained her macrobinoculars on the flock of meter-wide spherical droids that were maneuvering with purposeful unevenness toward the building. The Senate Intelligence Oversight Committee overseeing the Senate Bureau of Intelligence had attempted to interdict the redeployment of Homeworld Security and Coruscant Guard forces to what they considered fanciful Jedi fearmongering, but Republic Intelligence overruled them, perhaps not so surprisingly.

After all, Republic Intelligence was still on high alert for Separatist strongholds in the Coruscant Underworld after the satellite terrorist attack–and the abandoned Works just so happened to be the perfect place for the Underworld to bubble up to Coruscant’s glittering surface. A lucky break for her, so it would seem, if not for the fact that Republic Intelligence was comfortably pressed beneath Palpatine’s thumb.

So what are you up to this time?

“No indications that the probes are being targeted,” Commander Thorn updated.

Adi watched as the black probes drifted through the shattered windows and disappeared into the building’s broken facade. The team she had gathered waited patiently, comprised of the Coruscant Guard, with Commander Thorn in the lead, and a squad of Advanced Recon Commandos led by ARC Commander Valiant. Further supplementing the main strike force of shocktroopers and commandos were Republic Intelligence operatives ‘overseeing’ the operation, led by one Captain Dyne, and a team of highly capable Jedi Knights.

“Holoimages of the interior coming in,” Thorn announced.

Adi lowered the macrobinoculars and shifted his gaze to the field holoprojector. Dazzled by diagonal lines of static, the 3D images were of dusty rooms, stretches of dark corridor, vast empty spaces.

“The building appears to be completely abandoned, General. No organic signatures detected. Some droids, but those commonly found in similar manufacturing slums.”

“Abandoned, perhaps, but not forgotten,” Intelligence Captain Dyne said from behind Thorn, “The building still has power. The lights are active, and the door control panels are live.”

“Doesn’t mean much,” ARC Commander Valiant inserted gruffly, “Many industrial arcologies like this are self-powered. Otherwise we wouldn’t be breathing in this much black smoke.”

Captain Dyne nodded begrudgingly, but pointed at the holo again, “Except this building shows periodic and recent use of power. Recently cycled, and the circuit breakers are well-maintained.”

“...Is this our quarry?” Jedi Master Shaak Ti asked softly.

The two Jedi squads accompanying the strike force were nervous–not visibly, they were far too trained for that–but whilst Homeworld Security and Republic Intelligence were informed that this was a Separatist hideout, the Jedi were given the truth: they were hunting down a Dark Lord of the Sith. The Dark Lord of the Sith. They had every right to be nervous in the Force. The only one who wasn’t–a certain red-skinned Iskat Akaris, leaning slightly as she put her weight on one leg.

Adi Gallia felt... boredom, maybe a tint of eagerness at the notion of the operation finally starting. They had, after all, been combing through all the arcologies in this district for weeks. This conversation, this very scene, has already played out dozens of times. It was a first for them to be so sure they had finally found their mark.

“Inform Master Yoda that the operation is a go and that he is to arrive ASAP,” Adi Gallia stood up, nodding at her fellow Councilmember, “Commander Thorn; give the green light. We will be going on ahead!”

“Understood, General!”

“We will split into two teams!” Adi Gallia announced, clapping her hands to catch the attention of the gathered strike force, “I will lead Aurek Team, while Master Shaak Ti will lead Bacta Team! You have your assignments! Board your gunships!”

There was a subdued cheer from the combined strikeforce, a last minute battlecry to amp themselves up for the imminent operation, and they began breaking off in lines towards their assigned gunships.

“May the Force be with you.”

“And you!”

“Force be with you!”

“May the Force be with you!”

Soon, the Jedi Knights began breaking off into their squads too. Adi Gallia and Shaak Ti shared a grim look. As beautiful as a flower and as deadly as a viper, Shaak Ti was the Jedi Master one wanted by one’s side in these circumstances. Despite appearances, she was a hunter through and through, in the Togrutan nature. A sense of smell was keen, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s–and when augmented by the Force, comparable to that of a macrobinocular’s. Not to mention her striped montrals and lengthy head-tail allowed her to sense the movement of objects around her through echolocation, and her six ears proved a devastatingly effective auditory system.

Graced with the ability to move quickly through crowds or tight spots, she was often the first to wade into close-quarter engagements, and her blue lightsaber quick to find its mark. Master Mace Windu was completely correct to have her remain on Coruscant for the operation. Adi Gallia was lucky to have her.

Because Shaak Ti was a natural predator dressed in silk and beads.

“May the Force be with you,” the Tholothian Jedi Master bowed. So this is it.

“And with you,” the Togruta Jedi Master replied demurely. So it is.

Aurek Team’s gunship was already packed with commandos and Padawans by the time she clambered inside. Lifting off, the LAAT aimed straight for the summit of the building. All around her, red-painted LAAT gunships lifted off into the smoke-filled sky, doorway gunners traversing their repeating blasters and commandos standing ready to deploy from the gunship’s troop bay. Elsewhere, AT-TEs and other mobile artillery vehicles began to lumber across the dilapidated urbanscape toward the target. Overkill, perhaps, considering their true target, but this operation was officially a siege on a Separatist stronghold.

Inside the troop bay, ARC Commander Valiant turned to the troopers who made up the Aurek Team; and boomed out the ARC rallying cry. Hearing it disturbed her on some level, even though it was no different from what the clone troopers heard when the Jedi said to one another ‘May the Force be with you.’ Maybe it was the guttural way it was roared out, or perhaps the communal nature of it–in stark contrast with the call-and-response of the Jedi.

“The building is a free-strike zone. You are to consider anyone we find inside to be hostile,” Commander Valiant slammed a fresh power pack into his short-stocked blaster, “Troopers, you know the drill!”

“FIND!”

“FIX!”

“FINISH!”