Chapter 76

Coruscant, Coruscant System

Corusca Sector

Master Adi Gallia’s scepticism was justified, if rather ironic.

“You are certain this is the Delta Source?”

After all, how could a mere staff technician be the mole supplying the Sith Lord with the closest secrets of the Jedi Order? And yet, was that very thought not arrogance? The oh-so very Jedi-like belief that their Order was uncompromisable, much less by a mere dropout apprentice?

“If not the Delta Source,” Barriss crossed her arms, “Then at least one branch of it.”

“We don’t even know what the Delta Source is, might I point out,” Bode Akuna said sharply, “If it’s a person, an organisation or persons, droids, or some sort of surveillance system. We simply don’t know.”

Master Gallia looked at Barriss pointedly, “Remind me, how did you figure out that this man is a spy?”

“He knew about the Anakin Skywalker acting in the Battle of Llon Nebula,” Barriss shrugged, “I figured anybody who knew about that knew about the Delta Source–and is either feeding it or being fed by it. Or he could have simply eavesdropped on the High Council; I don’t know how widespread that information is in the Temple.”

“No…” the Jedi Master murmured, “You’re right that only the High Council should know about that–in the Temple at least. But it’s not solid evidence. Do you have any other proof?”

The Mirialan shrugged again, “I had a feeling.”

“You know, for a Jedi that’s par for the course,” Bode snapped his fingers, “Back to the Delta Source; Master, how much closer are we to figuring out what that thing is?”

“Not by much,” Master Gallia sighed forcefully, “We’re making sweeps. The maintenance corridors, the droids, the electrical systems–but it’s slow work. We can’t be too obvious as we go about it; for one it might alert the Sith Lord, and because it wouldn’t do to cause alarm in the Temple, especially at such a crucial time.”

As Adi Gallia and Bode Akuna continued their discussion into sourcing the Delta Source, which Barriss found herself truly out of her depth in, the Mirialan Knight turned to the fourth and final member of their little party. Iskat Akaris, silent as stone and tracking the rise and fall of Heezo’s chest as his unconscious form laid on the funeral altar.

Because it wouldn’t look good for Barriss if she was caught dragging around a two-metre tall Selonian through the populated halls of the Jedi Temple, and this funeral chamber was the only place she could reliably trek to through the narrow and maze-like maintenance shafts.

“This can’t be right…” there was a glaze of disbelief and anger in Iskat’s eyes, though at whom that anger was directed at Barriss did not know. Iskat’s volatile emotions were wild and unfocused, and Barriss had a feeling Iskat herself did not know either.

“It might not be,” Barriss told her friend lowly, though it was poor consolation, “I was acting on suspicion.”

Iskat’s eyes flashed, and in that split second her anger was focused. At Barriss.

“Were you using me to get close to him?” the red-skinned alien hissed, “Did you become my ‘friend’ to chase after your suspicions?”

“I did not know Heezo existed until you brought me to him,” Barriss told her honestly, and when Iskat’s expression fell she knew the girl had sensed that she was telling the truth.

The original suspicion was you, Barriss wanted to say, and it might still be.

Master Adi Gallia abruptly ended the exchange, stepping forward with the swiftness of a predator and pressing her palm to Heezo’s forehead. In an instant, the Selonian’s eyes flickered open, dazed and disoriented, the fog of unconsciousness slowly lifting as he blinked at his surroundings.

“What–” he began, his voice hoarse as he tried to sit up. But the sharp clank of stuncuffs jerking him back down, the weight of his body slamming into the cold, unyielding stone of the altar with a harsh thud. His confusion turned to alarm as he strained against the manacles, only to find them immovable.

Swivelling his neck around, Heezo took the sight of them in–and the moment he saw Barriss, a dark light of understanding gleamed in his slitted eyes.

“You are staff technician Heezo,” Master Gallia told him, “Is that correct?”

“I am,” Heezo confirmed, “Forgive me, Master, but I am rather confused as to why–”

“Alright then, Heezo,” Master Gallia brusquely cut him off, “May I know who you report to?”

Frustration creased his forehead, “Jopar Tandil in Tech Management. Master, I don’t–”

“Anybody else?”

“Nobody else! You can ask him yourself if you–” Heezo swivelled his neck around, catching Iskat in the corner of his eye, “Iskat! Tell them! I’m just a staff technician!”

Iskat remained silent, cautiously observing the exchange.

“I did ask Jopar Tandil,” Master Gallia said, “And he seems to back up your claim.”

“Master– Master Gallia, I don’t see why I must be–” Heezo’s hackles were raised now, his fur standing on end.

“From where did you hear about Anakin Skywalker pursuing Asajj Ventress in the Battle of Yag’Dhul?” the Tholothian Master snapped.

Heezo’s jaw shut with a click, eyes wild and wide.

“Answer the question, Heezo,” Barriss requested softly.

“You… You tricked me,” the Selonian muttered, looking around frantically again.

“The only way you’re leaving is by answering the Master’s questions, Heezo,” Iskat told him, not unkindly, “Just answer them, and we can put this behind us. I’m not any happier about this than you are.”

“…I’m just a– I’ve been around the Temple a lot,” the staff technician admitted, “I overhear a lot of things. I’m a Selonian; I can’t help it.”

His feline ears twitched and swivelled, as if to make a point.

“I need names, Heezo,” the Jedi Master softened, “Did you hear from a Jedi Master, or someone else? A fellow techie? Tell me their names, and we can investigate further.”

Heezo hesitated, and he hesitated just a moment too long.

“It was Master Klefan–”

“A lie,” Barriss immediately shot it down, switching tracks, “Who is your master?”

Heezo’s jaw shut again, sealing tight.

“We can force you to speak, man,” Bode Akuna said, exasperated, “Make this easy for all of us, and we won’t have to kick your doors open.”

The Selonian cast one last pleading look at Iskat, but once he realised he would find no purchase with her, he reluctantly righted his head, eyes fixing on a spot on the dark stone ceiling. It was clear any more answers will have to be forced out of him. Master Gallia’s shoulders fell, and she wasted no time outstretching her hand. The Force rippled the air, warping the empty space between them like a heat wave.

“Tell me the name of your master,” the Jedi Master commanded, prying at his mental doors.

Heezo’s jaw clenched, but said nothing.

“The Sith Lord wouldn’t choose agents who would break so easily,” Bode cracked his knuckles idly,

“Barriss,” Master Gallia immediately employed the aid of their empath, “Help me out.”

The Mirialan in question obeyed silently, closing her eyes and reaching out an arm towards their victim. Barriss extended her arm, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached out with the Force, feeling for Master Gallia’s presence there. Together, they plunged into the murky depths of Heezo’s mind. It was like stepping into a darkened corridor, walls slick and slippery with secrets, the air thick with resistance. Every thought felt like it was wrapped in shadow, locked behind doors that groaned under their mental pressure. Barriss could feel Heezo’s muted panic, a flurry of emotions rising up like a storm, but they were distant, faint–he was well-trained, either by himself or by the Sith Lord, walls of mental discipline erected around his memories.

“Tell us the name of your master,” they commanded together.

Heezo released a sound–a mix between a whimper and a groan–and Barriss could sense Iskat nervously fidget beside her.

“Heezo,” Barriss whispered, “Any more of this and your mind will crack open like an egg, spilling out what’s inside. And we won’t be able to put it back in. None of us wants that.”

The air hung in stasis as Barriss and Master Gallia prepared to prod even further, Iskat tensing as she watched her friend writhe under the mental torture. Barriss could feel the tremor in her fingertips as she dug deeper, each push closer to his core like pulling apart the sinew of his thoughts, exposing the raw nerve underneath. The atmosphere in the chamber became oppressive–so dense it was almost suffocating. A pulse of desperation surged through the Selonian, a final attempt to shield his secrets, but it only emboldened the Jedi Master. Gallia’s voice echoed through the Force like a distant rumble of thunder.

“Tell us the name of your master!”

“Lord Sidious!” Heezo gasped violently,

“Sidious,” Bode latched on, “That’s the one. Ask him what’s the Delta Source!”

“I don’t know!” Heezo struggled, full blown panic setting in, “I don’t know what’s a Delta Source! I swear! I only know what Lord Sidious tells me!”

“He’s telling the truth,” Barriss quickly informed duly.

Bode gnashed his teeth in frustration, “Then how do you contact Sidious!? It can’t be from within the Temple; all outward communications are monitored!”

All communications are!? Barriss hardly had time to even comprehend the massive breach in privacy.

The Selonian clenched his jaw tighter, beads of sweat now forming on his furrowed brow, every muscle straining in resistance. Barriss felt the feedback from his panic flooding into her mind—hot, sharp, and wild. His memories swirled chaotically like a storm of jagged glass, and she could hear his heartbeat hammering in her ears; a frantic, erratic rhythm that reverberated through the Force.

“Give it up, Heezo!” Adi Gallia ordered, “You don’t want to die this way! How do you contact Lord Sidious!?”

Heezo’s eyes were squeezed shut, his sharp teeth grinding against each other.

“Heezo,” Iskat breathed, “Please.”

Master Gallia shot Barriss a look, and Barriss breathed in. One last push. The pressure became unbearable. Barriss felt as though she was pushing her fingers into a blister, the skin stretched tight, ready to burst.

And then came the give. Like slamming against a bolted door just as the hinges snapped.

Heezo screamed.

“The Works!” he shouted, his spine arching in agony, pinned down to the altar, “I meet him in the Works!”

Master Gallia abruptly spun around on her heel, clasping Bode on the shoulder before stalking away.

“Bring him to the Temple Detention Centre and get me the specifics,” she ordered, “I’m summoning the High Council to authorise and form a Jedi strike team as soon as possible.”

⁂

Raxus Secundus, Raxus System

Caluula Sector

It was raining on Raxus Secundus, harder than usual. Not enough to deserve the name of a storm, but not light either. The winds had come up, rolling clouds gathering over the prairie beyond the city outskirts. Like an encroaching thunderhead, Sev’rance Tann mused, a foretaste of the carnage to come. Ugly weather.

Sev’rance Tann watched the raindrops hurl themselves against her suite’s windows, like the Loyalist troops who every day flung themselves against her fleets and armies and combat installations across the length and breadth of the galaxy. Each little splotch leaving the imprint of its death on the glass, then dissolving into a featureless wet spill and trickle.

Little on their own, but relentless nonetheless, and against the walls she built and deceptions she played, ultimately meaningless. The Supreme Commander of the Confederate Armed Forces held the countless admiralties and captaincies of her command in full trust, and it was not the wars she waged abroad that gave her cause for concern, but rather the battles fought at home that she struggled amidst. It was a fragile time for the Confederacy, though she made every effort to isolate the fronts from affecting each other.

It was no responsibility of the CAF’s generals to distract themselves with the petty accusations of the bureaucratic courts, not when they already balanced the fate of the nation upon their backs. No, let this matter be handled by the Office of the General. The officer corps need not concern–or even learn–of the situation on Raxus, nor should the bureaucrats and politicians force their fingers into martial matters they had no business with. Sev’rance Tann was the only bridge between the two fronts, and she was adamant about maintaining that status quo.

Already, the Confederate Parliament actively tries to govern the CAF, under the guise of ‘regulation’ and ‘accountability.’ It was as if they were not at war, and as if interfering with the only body capable of fighting for their very existence was a far more critical matter than letting that body win the war of existence first. Sev’rance would not allow it. Not after all the work she did to dredge the Separatist armies from the deplorable state she found it in, to the ascendant state it found itself in now.

A crack of thunder brought Sev’rance Tann’s attention back to the window. In her imagination, she saw the dagger-shaped silhouette of Star Station Independence high above the atmosphere, though she knew it impossible. The mobile headquarters of the CAF was far too large to bring into the atmosphere; the massive vessel would collapse under its own weight, effectively imploding in the skies over Raxus Secundus.

But the illusory sight of it alone was cause for imbued confidence. It was a corporeal symbol of the Confederacy’s defiance and fight against the Loyalist Republic, known to all across the Galactic Rim. It was her castle, her fortress, her personal kingdom, reforged in her image, where not even Dooku’s talons–or any who might undo her–could reach. She yearned to return to it, to redon the mantle of dictator of the largest war the galaxy has ever seen; alas, more pressing issues entangled her planetside yet.

Such as, for example, the public resurfacing of the Confederacy’s one and only Head of State on Raxus Secundus. Count Dooku’s prolonged absences on the capital world should be considered perhaps outlandish for a Head of State–as the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic’s absence on Coruscant would surely kick up a storm of panic for example–but it was not unknown for the Confederacy. Maybe it was the decentralised nature of the star nation, or maybe it was Dooku’s well-known history as a former Jedi, but Dooku has become rather well-known for leading the Confederacy’s political efforts from the front.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

When he was not residing on his homeworld of Serenno, or briefly sojourning on Raxus Secundus, Count Dooku had spent his premiership touring his vast domain; it was a necessary effort to keep the thousands of worlds in the Confederacy satisfied. For a state as young and burgeoning as the Confederacy’s, every local government desired to feel important and necessary. When discontentment rises, the perfect salve was an executive visit.

Wasn’t it fortunate that Count Dooku had capable stewards governing the country in his absence, then? Just as Sev’rance Tann fought his war, Bec Lawise managed his house.

Outside, the wind picked up another notch, shrieking and groaning among the gothic spires of the Parliamentary Palace, as if to announce the arrival of a terrible guest. Sev’rance stilled–she did not need to be precognizant to know who was standing outside the door outside that very moment.

She had a brief fantasy of letting go with a single blast of Force energy, as the Jedi do, shattering the door off its hinges and sending the man behind them tumbling through the air, dashing his brains out against the hard brick walls. But she was not able to, for the Force came to her fingers as easily as a sewing needle would to a newborn’s, much to Dooku’s chagrin. And besides, Dooku would be expecting it, somehow; it would never be so easy.