Chapter 32

Columex Approach, Columex System

Vorzyd Sector

Columex’s hyper-junction is going to be inoperable for weeks, if not months.

That was what I thought. There was probably enough scrap in the star system to build the Death Star from scratch. Scrappers were already laying into the thick of it, like vultures and rats. Sanctioned scrappers, of course, who were only allowed to access Republic vessels. Their double-duty was to pluck out any survivors–prisoners of war–because why would we dirty our hands when we could outsource the job?

Despite FTL communications, there was no underestimating the fog of war. With all the latent jamming, electronic warfare, and interference muddying up the waters, it took several hours for the entire fleet to reestablish a coherent grasp of the situation and bring everybody up to speed.

Repulse cruised over the cracked hull of Pride of the Core, her holocams recording every bit of it and transmitting the scene to media stations planetside. I could just imagine the news banner being livestreamed all over the star system: BREAKING NEWS – Victory! Republic General taken prisoner!

That’s right. Governor-General Therbon of the 12th Sector Army, found and captured in one of the Mandator’s internal combat information centres. These star dreadnoughts; they were being used as mobile command centres. Perhaps they were so mind-bogglingly large nobody could have expected them to fail. And perhaps they wouldn’t have, if we didn’t bring superweapons of our own.

At least the Pride of the Core still looked like a ship, albeit more like an oversized slice of pizza, with its conspicuously missing bridge. Her sister ship, however, wasn’t so lucky. There was nothing left of the Legacy of the Founders. The warship that had given us so much grief at Centares; completely vaporised. Victoria Louise essentially had the yield of a thermonuclear bomb at impact–something happened, for certain, whether it was a core meltdown or a gas detonation–but whichever the case, the Legacy and everything within a twenty mile radius was now stardust.

All of this was being broadcasted straight to the affiliated press clubs down on Columex, and from there tossed out to Near Perlemian, and then the rest of the galaxy. Murkhana and the Shadowfeed most definitely have their hands on the intel, and so will the Senate on Raxus Secundus. It was in these succeeding hours after the battle that speculation was most rampant, and whoever shouts the loudest first will be able to shape the narrative to their benefit.

The Republic dreadnoughts, the Separatist dreadnoughts, the Cylinders, the fact that there’s three Admirals and two Generals in one star system. The media could tunnel vision in on a hundred different things.

And this was where being at the source was most advantageous. Dooku has Murkhana and the Shadowfeed in his pocket, but even Murkhana needs to get their intel from Columex. And who sends the intel to Columex?

We do. We can practically dictate what happened in the Battle of Columex, at least for the first precious months.

Press clubs will always leap on the most sensational scoops–what will bring the most clicks and revenue. They will want drama. All the boring numbers and figures can be left to the military commentators. Those can follow in the wake of the first wave, when the story is more straight.

As such, I was thinking; why should the headline read ‘Republic General taken prisoner!’ instead of ‘Sev’rance Tann saves the day!’ or something to that effect. We have the battle transcripts and logs, nobody in the Coalition Armada was going to deny that the Pantoran was here first.

I didn’t know if it was a precious coincidence or impressive planning, but the 1st and 4th Fleets jumping in immediately after she announced that ‘Reinforcements have arrived’ was going to be a huge publicity victory for her.

“Carrion Spike has docked to our portside airlock,” Stelle sluggishly whirred, clearly reaching the end of his rope, “Messenger in Flames report a shuttle is enroute.”

“Very good, guide her to the bridge. You may change bridge shifts when Tuff arrives,” I replied, “Hare, contact–”

“Understood, Master–” Hare, on the other hand, was quite spry. Thinking of it, have I ever seen her recharge? “–Is there something the matter?”

The rabbit robot tilted her head, noticing that I was staring at her strangely.

“Where…” I wetted my lips, “When do you recharge?”

Hare paused, before slowly raising a finger to her metaphorical lips–where did she even learn human gestures?–and saying, “Don’t ask a droid her secrets, Master.”

And on cue, the holoproj flashed with a response. I quietly received it.

“Rain?” Mina was very clearly looking down at her own holoproj, her voice hushed and urgent, “Is the battle over? What happened?”

I could hear faint footsteps and chatter in the background. She was in the Senate House, I realised. Had there been a special emergency session of the Senate just for the battle? That changes some things.

“We won,” I answered, and she slumped in relief, “The Republic had deployed two Mandator-class dreadnoughts.”

Her brows drew closer, “Those showpieces–?”

“Retrofitted for battle,” I explained, “The casualty count is coming in, Mina. We lost almost two million spacers. We won’t be able to stop another push.”

Mina quickly caught on to the implications, “The next vote isn’t going to fail.”

The Republic lost a lot more, but I was trying to shape a narrative here. I wasn’t lying; we won’t be able to stop another push. The thing is, I was absolutely certain there won’t be another push, because the Republic just had was tantamount to two full Sector Fleets completely gutted. Whatever operational warships they have left will be withdrawn to the border of the Mid Rim in order to dig in. Which is why the vote has to happen now, before the situation settles.

“Right,” I nodded, “Have any of your colleagues received news of the battle yet?”

The Senator’s eyes shifted, “No… I don’t think so.”

“Then you’ll be first,” I felt compelled to whisper, despite knowing she could adjust the output volume of her holoproj at leisure, “The Pantoran arrived with reinforcements, saving our asses just as we were about to break. Of the two dreadnoughts, one was captured and the other was completely destroyed. The General of the Republic’s Twelfth Sector Army is our prisoner.”

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, “The Pantoran did–”

“Yes,” I replied quickly, eyeing General Tann’s progress to the bridge on the camera feed, “Look, I’ll have all the material you need sent to the Embassy via a press club. Can you get a vote right now?”

“Now?” Mina unconsciously bit her lip, “No, that’s… but I can introduce a motion and schedule it in a week.”

“Too long,” I shook my head, “Make it tomorrow, or in two days. Tell them what I told you–make it an emergency.”

Mina paused, looking up to something–or someone–in front of her, “…Fine. I’ll send you the details. Make sure Tann is present when it happens.”

“Understood,” I promised.

Insider knowledge wasn’t rare. If Mina was any other senator, I could send the info to her straight–but I had her reputation to consider. Like most Peace Faction senators, her image is that of idealism, honour, and virtue. The senators will still connect the dots when they realise she’s the first to receive the news, but as long as there isn’t a direct path to trace, the actual public won’t care.

I saw her take a deep breath in preparation for the speech she was about to make, and then the connection was interrupted.

“Hare, get Admiral Greyshade–” The title still tasted strange on my tongue. Not quite bitter–he was only an Admiral in the local context–but still odd, “–And have him transmit the logs to the foreign correspondents’ association.”

Hare was a brilliant adjutant. I only needed to tell her the bare minimum and she’d pick up on everything else. As she made herself scarce, I climbed out of my seat and cracked my back, observing a small legion of tugs drag the Pride away. The death toll was going to echo throughout the galaxy, I could already see it. But right now? Right now it was the POWs that were important. Hundreds of captured warships and hundreds of thousands prisoners of war of every rank, species, and race.

Disregarding all the hidden politicking, this was now our most powerful card against the Republic.

“Have you considered upgrading your flagship, Commodore?” Sev’rance Tann’s sharpness belied the chipper tone just underneath, “You could do much better than this.”

In hindsight, General Tann’s survival was never in doubt. Didn’t Vinoc say she could foresee the future? Obviously everything would be part of her calculations. Not to mention there was a good chance the Force–read: plot armour–was watching her back at all times. Still, I never quite expected her to use the Carrion Spike.

I turned around, “I still quite like her. What about the cloaked ship?”

General Tann scraped her glowing red gaze across the comparatively small pilothouse, inspecting the consoles and the droids at their stations as she made her way down to the viewports.

“I have no doubt that Dooku intended for our new dreadnought to eliminate me,” she ignored me with one breath and dropped a figurative atomic bomb with the next, “I admit I am not the most well-versed as to why that would be, and hope you can share with me your insights.”

“Why would I know what Count Dooku is thinking, sir?” I asked, trying not to be too outwardly nervous.

“If someone does, I believe it would be you,” the Pantoran smiled thinly.

I am actually insulted, more or less because it’s true. Dooku’s seriously pulling out all the stops for this, and I hate that I kind of knew exactly what him and Palpatine were trying to achieve out of this whole mess. Backup plan and all.

“I can’t say, General,” I broke eye-contact to check the shuttle’s progress, “Nevertheless, your election to Supreme Commander is all but confirmed. Your timely arrival means all of our logs corroborate the fact that you led our reinforcements into battle. I have forwarded the information to a contact in the Senate, who I believe, has already introduced the motion to the floor.”

“That is hasty,” she commented, not untruthful, “Would it not be wiser to consolidate my position among the Admirals and Generals before pressing my claim?”

“No,” I said bluntly, “We need two things to pass the vote for certain; the Coalition Senators and the Peace Faction. We already have the Coalition, but we still need the Peace Faction. And for them to vote, they need to believe the situation on the Perlemian is still precarious.”

“I must commend you for the creation of the Coalition,” General Tann praised, “I would have never considered it, but I can see it was quite the ingenious solution to our political troubles.”

“Only for the short-term,” I noticed Stelle giving me a hand signal, “Allow me to explain, sir. Both we and the Republic are spent. Neither of us have any more offensive potential. The war on the Perlemian is functionally over.”

“For the Coalition, perhaps, but the Confederate Fleets are still active and fresh.”

I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, and Stelle began shepherding out the bridge shift, “From what we can tell, the Republic have only retreated back to the Mid Rim frontier, and have no intention of withdrawing any further. They are undoubtedly intent on ensuring their progress does not become undone.”

The General’s expression mellowed into one of introspection, mind no doubt already working through preliminary battle plans and strategies.

“If you would excuse me, General,” I started, tugging my collar, “Commander Vinoc had informed me of your abilities… I would not pretend to understand how the Force works, but would you allow me to make my own prediction of the near future?”

“Continue,” she said almost absent-mindedly.

“There is going to be a ceasefire–” her head snapped towards me almost imperceptibly, and I knew I had her attention, “–The very fact that the Republic mobilised not one, but two star dreadnoughts, is telling. They had every expectation of victory, and this recent defeat is borderline unrecoverable. The Shadowfeed is going to stoke public outrage, not to mention the cadres of high-ranking officers and princelings that are being processed into our internment hulks as we speak.”

“…This hypothetical ceasefire,” General Tann mused, “Do you believe it will last?”

What a loaded question, I cringed. I don’t think she’s the type to have a ‘correct answer’ for those kinds of questions, but it was still worth a thought; does Sev’rance Tann want the war to end?

“No,” I answered honestly, “The powers that be do not want the war to end–not truly. A call for peace on the Perlemian will achieve three things: buy time for a reorganisation, facilitate a prisoner exchange, and ‘reset’ public opinion.”

Bloody red eyes sharpened, “A false flag.”

“I concur, General. A false flag attack will likely reignite the war.”

And then there was the hidden purpose of the ceasefire; to block the election of the Separatist Supreme Commander. The Republic threat is over, at least for now. And that means the fire underneath the Senate has died. With the ceasefire in place, the Coalition and its senatorial bloc will disband, and Dooku will be free to install Grievous in power at his leisure. This is why it was so pertinent that the election happens now.

I continued to tell her exactly as such; “The Coalition was never a permanent solution. Once they realise there is no more threat, they will begin to disband. Similarly, the Peace Faction that we rely on is only reliable until they realise there is no more threat. This is our very narrow window of opportunity where the stars have aligned.”

“Is this truly all speculation, Commodore? Or is it founded in some truth?”

“It is how I would act should I be a Loyalist pro-war senator, sir. Though I may be overthinking; this is quite beyond my paygrade.”

“I imagine that won’t be for long.”

“Uh, pardon–?”

The clanking of metal footsteps echoed down the hallway, distracting both of us and preventing me from pressing the issue.

“The shuttle has arrived, Master,” Hare informed me quietly.

“Watch the bridge for me,” I replied, before addressing the General again, “There is one more thing, sir. Care for a walk?”

Sev’rance Tann drew herself back into the imperious stature that made her so famous in the Confederate military establishment. Onderonians were on the taller side of the human species, but the General met my height with ease. It’s been quite a while since I haven’t needed to look down–literally–on the person I was conversing with.

“Certainly,” she allowed.

We passed the incoming bridge shift as we retreated into the darkness of Repulse’s hull, with most of the lights dimmed or completely out in order to prioritise power for self-repair systems. The bridge shift pivoted in lockstep as we approached, saluting the General in perfect tandem, before swinging back and continuing on their path.

“Even your crew meets your standards,” there was the slightest smile tugging at Tann’s lips.

I cleared my throat, “Did you know about our dreadnoughts, General? Forgive me if I am overstepping.”

“I did not, but I do intend on searching for answers,” the Pantoran was staring straight ahead, “I heard General Grievous nearly secured the office I seek, and now he commands the very dreadnought that fired at me. Do you have anything to say?”

“You did arrive rather unorthodoxly, sir,” I admitted, “He will either pass it off as friendly fire from an inaccurate shot, or that he was aiming at the Pride and disregarded the enemy Venator in the line of fire. I imagine the latter.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“It will be hard to prove malicious intent,” she admitted.

“Might I offer some advice, General,” I started, holding the turbolift open for her, “Never approach General Grievous alone. He is Dooku’s puppet, has a standing order to eliminate you, and is a trained Jedi killer.”

“Trained Jedi killer?”

I nodded sharply, “The battle report from Christophsis details how he personally dispatched three–perhaps more–Jedi. One of them was even a Councilmember, if the rumours are to be believed.”

Her brows furrowed, “This will be taken under advisement, Commodore.”

The turbolift spat us out into the starboard hangar. Munificents didn’t have much in the way of hangar space–most of the Vulture complement hung from rafters outside–and what little there was had been reserved for shuttles and landing ships. Such as Messenger’s stunt-legged Sheathipede-class.

I almost didn’t recognise the dead-eyed girl in cuffs, held still by Tuff’s firm grip. Barriss Offee had grown taller, her hair growing out straight and stringy past her shoulders. Despite that, however, her shoulders were straight and even, and for one second I saw something haunted and obsessive beneath her dissonant blue gaze. The kind I’ve only seen in one other person before.

A light slowly dawned on Sev’rance Tann as she dug through her memories for what must’ve been a footnote of a character in her life. And then she recognised the same thing as I did, or something similar in the Force, because the red glow of her eyes darkened by a tone.

“Barriss Offee,” I greeted politely, “It has been a long time. Good work, Tuff.”

The droid inclined his head by a degree.

“Do the Separatists really want the war to end?” the Jedi suddenly asked, holding her arm.

I opened my mouth to answer, but an off-thought came to mind. This was the perfect time to hear General Tann’s answer, instead of just repeating mine again. As such, I shot the her a meaningful glance and took a half-step back.

“…That has always been our objective, Miss Offee,” General Sev’rance Tann stated, “It has never changed.”

A muscle in the girl’s jaw tightened, “The Jedi Order has lost its way. We now obey a Republic that no longer serves the interests of its people. If you allow me to return to the Temple, I will attempt to reason with the Jedi Council.”

I showed no outward emotion, “What do you think, sir?”

“I sense no untruthfulness,” she admitted, “But I must ask you this, Miss Offee. Do you truly believe you can bring change to the Jedi Order?”

A shadow of doubt crossed Barriss’ face, but her expression firmed up soon after, “I will tell them of what I’ve seen. They’ll believe me–they must.”

“And the Republic?” Tann pressed further.

“If… if Master Yoda can be convinced, he’ll talk to the Chancellor.”