Chapter 21

“The Chiss girl’s usefulness has come to an end,” Lord Sidious proclaimed, “She is now but a thorn in our side. You will eliminate her before she grows to threaten your grasp on the Separatist systems.”

Dressed in a rich cloak of burgundy, the Dark Lord of the Sith stood over his apprentice. Hood raised over his head, his ensemble so voluminous it shrouded all but the figure’s lower face and hands from light. All that could be seen from that shadowed face, were a pair of glowing, baleful golden eyes.

“Yes, my Master,” Dooku replied, kneeling on the floor of his castle, “I have already sent my best agents to remove her from our plans.”

It was the outcome Count Dooku had expected, but was a great shame nonetheless. When Lord Sidious first introduced him to Sev’rance Tann, he had been… overwrought, by her outward lack of Force presence. But she was not lacking in potential, and for all the traditional skills she was incapable of, she made up for in areas more profound.

Sev’rance Tann should have been the perfect apprentice. She was dignified, methodical and well-learned-if not particularly eloquent or politically-minded-yet impassioned and eager to learn the ways of the Dark Side. She bore no complaint from punishment, only because she rarely ever failed. Indeed, she should have been the perfect apprentice.

But the girl had never truly pursued the teachings of the Dark Side-only what it had to offer. Dooku knew that had a Jedi found her first, she would have been convinced to join their Order just as easily-provided that she had access to the deepest annals of the Temple’s library-even if she would just as similarly never truly adopt the Light.

The Sith saw no need to take on only young disciples, though they often did. Sometimes the training went smoother with disciples who had lived long enough to grow disillusioned or angry or vengeful. Sev’rance Tann was none of that. She was not fueled by any great emotion other than personal ambition. Sometimes, that was all a Sith needed, but the Chiss’ ambition had already been tempered by years of military training, not to mention a culture wholly unknown to the galaxy at large. She did not carry an ounce of darkness within her.

Count Dooku knew that once he refused to teach her any longer, or had nothing left to teach, Sev’rance would not hesitate to abandon-if not betray-him. It was then that he realised she could never learn of the Grand Plan. Despite how much he enjoyed mentoring her, she would only be as much of a tool to him as he was a tool to her.

“You must not underestimate her, Lord Tyranus,” Sidious warned, “You had taught her well, and without the shroud of the Dark Side clouding her gaze, she is especially dangerous. You must tread cautiously. Her manipulation of the war has displeased me greatly.”

What a shame. What a shame. With Sev’rance’s military genius and his own political prowess, they could have overthrown and rebuilt the galaxy together, in their image. Sidious would no longer have any reason to exist. Regretfully, she ultimately did not share his vision for a pure, restored galaxy, personified by authority and order. She ultimately held no attachment to the larger galaxy, not when her true masters still existed deep in the Unknown Regions.

When the Plan comes to fruition, there will be no corner of the galaxy free from my New Order. Not the Gree Enclave, not Hapes, not Hutt Space, and not even this Chiss Ascendancy.

“Shonn Volta is a highly capable assassin, my lord,” Dooku exhaled with purpose, “And if she is not enough, I believe eliminating Sev’rance will be a fitting test for our new pawn.”

“Grievous…” the Sith Lord said with calculated slowness, “Indeed, Lord Tyranus, he will serve our purposes. You had taught Sev’rance much of what she now knows, but you did not teach her everything.”

Darth Sidious eyed him from beneath the cowl of his cloak, closely examining his every reaction. His final word was as much a statement as it was a warning-a threat-against any idea of disobedience.

“I had not, just as you instructed,” Dooku replied faithfully, “Sev’rance still believes her foresight to be unfailing, and herself unassailable. She cannot fathom being wrong.”

“Well done,” Sidious’ lips curled, “I have guaranteed that the girl will not be able to return to the Foundry in time. Instead, Grievous will become the saviour of the Separatist Alliance. It is time for our new piece to play his role.”

“It will be done, Master.”

“Do not fail me, Lord Tyranus,” Darth Sidious snarled.

As his master’s holoprojection winked out, Dooku all but glided to his feet, displaying not an ounce of imbalance even after kneeling for so long. Refined posture at all times-even in absence of an audience-was after all a hallmark of a true noble. That was something Sev’rance Tann could understand. Unlike, for example, that repulsive cyborg Grievous.

Though, that wasn’t any fault of his own. When the pitiful creature was rebuilt, his mind had been… adjusted to better fit his intended role. For all he was aware-and soon the galaxy-Grievous has always been a merciless, monstrous thing of war.

Count Dooku of Serenno keyed in the transceiver address, and did not have to wait long for a response.

A seven-foot tall monster of durasteel appeared over him, whatever sliver of sapience left in the creation found in two hateful, bloody eyes, rimmed by raw periocular skin, captured behind a skull-like faceplate. Quite the alien beast, even to aliens.

“Is it time, Count Dooku?” the Kaleesh warlord demanded, guttural and terrifying to any lesser being.

Dooku couldn’t be more pleased with the result. Grievous will never be another Sev’rance Tann in some regards, but in others he was far more than she will ever be. While Sev’rance was a delight to teach, Grievous was a delight to train. He never needed to coax out the cyborg’s anger and rage, as Dooku had been forced to do with his Dark Acolytes-and never succeeded with Sev’rance-not when anger and rage was all that’s left inside the creature after his reconstruction.

Few Jedi would survive an encounter with Grievous, as he had proven quite capably on Christophsis. There had been moments in their training sessions when even Dooku-who was one of the most legendary blademasters in living history-had struggled to outduel the cyborg.

But Dooku didn’t teach him everything. He never did.

“It is quickly approaching, General,” Dooku’s seat was most comfortable, especially after he had graced the floor in the presence of his master, “What do you think of your new flagship?”

Grievous growled, “It will serve me well.”

And you will serve me well.

Dooku allowed himself an imperceptible smile, “Then it is time for the weapon’s first field tests… and the declaration of your existence. The Republic will fear you, General, and the Jedi most of all.”

“I don’t care if the Jedi fear me,” Grievous snapped, “Only if they are dead.”

Ah… that most single-minded loathing for the Jedi, for their perceived crimes against him. Very quaint. Very useful. Grievous’ cruel tactics and barbarism will make him the perfect scapegoat on which to hang every atrocity of this war, once his usefulness has run dry. Something Sev’rance could never be, considering her sense of honour and adherence to law.

“Then prepare to move to Columex at my command,” Dooku instructed, “There will be many Jedi for you to kill indeed.”

Everything is proceeding as planned, Master. Dooku felt the Force warping even as Grievous bowed shallowly and disappeared. The Force is very much with us.

Orbit of Metalorn, Metalorn System
Talcene Sector

“The Ruling Power will not subscribe to your so-called Coalition, officer,” Ruler Nine rebuked, “Nor will we harbour the Clysm Fleet in our docks. We are quite capable of defending ourselves.”

His hologram shimmered and waved, whipping the Euceron’s lanky body like an inflatable air dancer. He represented the government of Euceron, the Ruling Power. They were a sort of council, with each of their ten members referred to by their number, hence Ruler Nine.

“You realise in that case, Euceron will bear the brunt of the Republic invasion force alone?” Calli asked, “Even with our help, Salvara could not-”

“Do not insult us, officer,” the tall humanoid had to bend to glare us down, “We are a wealthy world, and our security forces outstrip both the Salvaran and Clysm fleets combined. Besides, Commander Trilm, were you not able to defend Salvara for three whole days even outnumbered and outgunned?”

Calli baulked, “That was-”

Ruler Nine interrupted her with a spindly, delicate finger, “We greatly admire your prowess, officer. Indeed, your brave defence secured a laudable settlement for the Salvaran people. We intend on following in your footsteps. Joining this Coalition will only paint a target on our backs.”

I stared blankly at Calli, wondering whether an annoyed, exasperated, or scathing look will carry my point across effectively. The Serennian met my gaze and lifted an arched brow, daring me to speak my piece. After a moment, I opted for a more diplomatic ‘seriously?’ face. Beggars can’t be choosers I guess.

“Do you speak for the entire Ruling Council, sir?” I decided to try.

“As the Senator from Euceron,” Ruler Nine said loftily, “I speak for the entire Eucer Sector. Your so-called ‘protection’ is not worth the price of surrendering our freedoms to your… military junta. Not when we can protect ourselves. That is all, officers.”

His arm reached out and cut the connection, leaving Calli and I alone. I toggled a switch on the armrest, and Vinoc’s holo sprouted in the Euceron’s place, having been listening in out of sight the whole time.

“We have a problem,” the fallen Jedi said seriously, “Ruler Nine said he relayed the will of the entire Eucer Sector. That includes Ringo Vinda.”

Calli nodded stiffly, “My thoughts exactly.”

“The Ringo Vindans signed the treaty,” I rubbed my cheek, “Have they double-crossed us?”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“We can’t allow that,” Calli grimaced, “We all saw the simulations. Ringo Vinda is the linchpin of our entire operation. I will talk with their government again, and renegotiate the treaty if I must. Hopefully Ruler Nine was bluffing. But if not…”

“We may have to seize the system by force.” Vinoc sighed, “… But the man had a point; what if Euceron does put up a good showing against the Republic? The Coalition’s member worlds might slip away if that happens.”

“It won’t. There is not a match for those Tector-class Star Destroyers in our arsenal save for a Providence-class dreadnought. Salvara cannot be recreated. The sole reason Salvara turned out the way it did is because of one reason,” Calli Trilm jabbed a thumb at her own chest, “And that’s my personal intervention. Ground-to-orbit artillery are a huge force multiplier, but hard to come by without the same money and connections that I have. Not even Ringo Vinda has them.”

“They made a poor showing regardless,” Vinoc pointed out, “From the records you sent us, at least.”

“That’s user error, not a design flaw,” Calli crossed her arms, “I’ve already figured them out. Euceron is going to be completely crushed precisely because they blundered at Salvara.”

“… Ah, I see,” I suddenly understood what she was getting at, “The Tectors are the testbed for a new military doctrine with a lot of political weight behind it. The Republic simply cannot afford for them to fail. So since they dropped the ball at Salvara, Republic High Command is going to take extra precautions to make sure they succeed at Euceron. New commanders, proper tactics, the like.”

And more worryingly, these Tectors looked suspiciously similar to the Imperial Star Destroyer-almost uncannily so. The only reason I wouldn’t confidently state that they are ISDs is the fact that it’s been decades since I’ve watched the Original Trilogy, and that I can’t exactly remember what they looked like. All those arrow-shaped Star Destroyers looked the same to me back then, honestly… Venators, ISDs, those new First Order ones, whatever they were called. Well, other than the Executor and Snoke’s mothership. I can pick those out of a line-up any day.

Now, though, I can identify a Venator with my eyes closed. Fuck, I count them when I sleep.

Anyway, I fear something has changed with the Republic, and that the Tectors may be a sign of their hastening devolution into the Empire… even if I can’t exactly point out why. Regardless, it’s all the more the reason to help the Confederacy survive this war. I made my bed a long time ago.

“Exactly,” Calli nodded appreciatively, “I’m in the Euceron System right now, and from what I can see, while Ruler Nine isn’t exactly lying, he’s still greatly exaggerating the state of the Euceron Security Forces. This fleet is big on paper, but it’s outdated by several decades. Old Munifex cruisers and Auxilias mostly. If the entire sector combines forces, I’d say they’d have about a hundred Rendili Dreadnaughts and maybe a dozen or two Invincibles. Nothing that will stop a resentful and determined Republic.”

“Shouldn’t we send them what we know about the Republic’s fleet, then?” Vinoc asked, “To give them a fighting chance?”

“Why would we want Euceron to have a fighting chance?” I scolded, “Intel sharing is one of the agreements in the treaty, you know? They didn’t sign it. It’s unfortunate, but they’ll need to take the fall for us to succeed. They’ve established that their destruction is a them problem. Let’s respect that.”

It’s much easier to sign away the lives of millions when they weren’t staring me right in the face. Some days I still think about the clone troopers I rescued over Leesis, and how else I would’ve acted if I wasn’t personally overseeing the operation then. Out of sight, out of mind, they say.

“Agreed,” Calli nodded, “The harder the Eucerons get crushed, the easier it will be to convince the rest of the Foundry to join us for protection.”

“Then get out of there,” I consulted my mental star map, “To… Ringo Vinda, I suppose. Make any repairs you need, then contact Jorm.”