Chapter 28 - Servants of the Force
"Palpatine."
The word dropped like a meteor into the noisy chaos of the Council Chamber, and for a second, the spread of silence was as tangible as shockwaves through superheated air.
Only moments before, the room had been filled with accusation and loud demands for action. Hoarse shouts of denial from Veendo, wet apology stumbling out of Numb's mouth, quick gulps of fear from some of the other Masters - they had all but overwhelmed the quiet backdrop of Xacor's hurried request for a Healer and the blue-tinged buzz of frenzied fighting that raged far below them.
Sle'fey had let the Councilors broil in the heat of furious argument, ignoring their pleas and taunts and obvious plays for power. This day had long been planned, the trap set with Kenobi's unknowing sacrifice, and a few insults from those who had allowed the Jedi Order to come to this were nothing.
Instead he had watched, with heavy heart, the horror of battle between Obi-Wan and that rrshak slime, Tharten. He accepted that he had had a very large part in Obi-Wan's life-and-death struggle and wished that it could have been otherwise. But the survival of the Order must come before the life of one lone Knight.
Or so he believed - until the fateful word. "Palpatine."
Sle'fey just sat there, muzzle open in shock, not really seeing what else was taking place far below them. He did not watch as the Healers trundled an unconscious Jinn out of transmission range; he did not listen to Obi-Wan's desperation and rage; he did not feel the icy darkness that lingered in the currents of the Force nor taste the venom that had been Tharten's final legacy to them all.
Kenobi had done it, found out who was behind the desecration of the heart and spirit of the Jedi. Palpatine.
But Sle'fey knew what it really meant - disaster.
The Sith were rising again. They had gotten their claws into the Jedi Order but more importantly, Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and revered throughout the Galaxy, was behind the plot. He was untouchable, virtually invulnerable, and there was nothing he or Xacor or Kenobi or any of the other Jedi could do about it.
Disaster indeed.
It was only a heartbeat later when the collective astonishment of the Council sputtered back into frenzy.
Above the din of desperate inquiries and furious denials, Veendo shouted out his contempt, "Palpatine? A Sith Lord?" One green hand sweeping through the air as if to brush away his fury, he twisted to glare at the Bothan Councilor, "This is outrageous. The Sith have been extinct for a millennium and now we are expected to believe that they have risen again and that the Supreme Chancellor is our deadliest enemy. Absurd."
White fir swirling with disbelief, Sle'fey shot back, "Tharten...."
The Rodian was adamant, his voice growling scorn. "Master Tharten, Sle'fey. She was head of the Jedi Council and your superior. She deserved better than to be gutted like that. Mind raped by that worthless Kenobi. His vicious attack.... "
Frowning at the implication that Sera Tharten was somehow innocent in all this, Sle'fey leaned forward, half-out of his seat as he snarled, "Master Tharten named him Sith Lord, not I." His eyes as hard as durasteel, he pointed one claw at Veendo and said, "Do not think to turn this back into something other than what it is. You and Tharten and your followers have been trying to gut the Jedi Order for years, turning it into a mockery of everything the Jedi once were. It stops now."
The Rodian Councilor just snorted with disbelief. "And how are you going to do that, Sle'fey? By arresting Palpatine? That's impossible and you know it." He thrust himself back in his chair, pulling hastily at his tunic as if by doing so he could rid himself of the absurd idea of capturing the Supreme Chancellor. Then, staring pointedly at the guards flanking the doorway for a moment, he turned his attention back to the other Masters, apparently looking for support.
The chamber quieted and there was more than a few heads nodding at Veendo's words. His smile of triumph was not lost on the Bothan.
"No one is beyond justice." But even as he said it, Sle'fey knew that he was lying, to Veendo, to the rest of the Council - to himself most of all. It was an impossibility and yet he had to think of a way past impossible and make it happen somehow.
Veendo's bulbous eyes gleamed victory as he pressed his advantage. He spat out, "Master Tharten would never align herself with such a creature, not even to further her own position. The Sith were treacherous and cunning by all accounts. She would not be such a fool."
Xacor's tattooed face was tight with outrage as he interrupted Veendo's reinterpretation of what had happened only a few moments before. "And yet she had. By her own admission."
Swiveling around to stare at the Zabrak Master, Veendo's snout tightened, malice-strong. Then he deliberately looked away, sweeping his gaze quickly across the room. He must have liked what he saw.
With a satisfied smile, Veendo began to speak again; each word was clear and sharp as an ice dagger. "Kenobi forced her to speak such lies. He needed some excuse for murdering her and this was the perfect opportunity."
Sle'fey could feel the fur rising behind his neck, a sure sign that he was fast approaching the end of his patience. He knew that he should let Veendo, Nunb and the others prattle on for a while; after all, it was said that information could be more easily won by letting your enemy fall into the fever trap of hurried words and fury than by any debate of cold logic. But he also knew that the time to end this was soon.
As he looked around, trying to think of how to force the dispute into satisfaction and success, his gaze first brushed past and then refocused on the blue-tinged mist of holocam transmission in the center of the room.
The gentle electronic sputter could sometimes soften the edges of harsh reality; its flickering light might hide sharp edges and fine detail but not today. Instead, he could see, with crystal clarity, the gory spill of entrails spattered across the horror of the cell floor, the splotchy lines of purple-dark blood, Master Tharten's sprawled body. Beyond, beside a frowning Padawan Sl'etah, Obi-Wan sat, slightly rocking, his shattered expression stark in the haze.
The rush of bile threatened to overwhelm him. He had betrayed a man who didn't deserve such a fate and he would pay for it later but there was no time for regrets. Kenobi would have to deal with his own darkness. Right now, Sle'fey had other problems.
Forcing down the acid in his throat, he twisted away and glared straight at Veendo. It was time to push back. "You can't blame Obi-Wan for this." His muzzle curled a bit in disgust, the derision in his low growl unambiguous. "She brought it on herself."
Veendo's eyes bulged dark as he grabbed at the edge of his seat. He sounded thoroughly annoyed, "Master Tharten was the head of the Jedi Council. If she was guilty, she should have been tried before us, not gutted like a piece of meat."
If anything, the cold contempt in Sle'fey's voice chilled further. He said flatly, "She was in league with a Sith Lord. For years. What Kenobi did was not murder but justice."
As he looked around to see the rest of the Council staring back at him with confusion or fear or determination to find out the truth, Sle'fey drew in a deep breath and pressed his attack. "I begin to wonder just how much you do know, you and Nunb and your friends on this Council. For all of your bluster, your protests do nothing but make you appear more guilty."
While Veendo sputtered in outrage, Sle'fey shifted slightly, nodding to Xacor. One subtle gesture from the tattooed Master and the guards at the entrance to the chambers straightened, as though readying themselves for arrest or battle. It did not go unnoticed.
Nunb made a gulp of protest and two of the others in Tharten's circle - A'Ala-Tanze of Indoctrination and Holu TaKet of the Espionage group, those who had supported Tharten and her past schemes, began to look decidedly ill at ease. Veendo just radiated fury.
Sle'fey knew that his tenuous hold on the Council was stretched thin but he still had enough Masters on his side to take control of the Order - especially now with Tharten dead.
But even if it had only been himself and Xacor and no one else, still he would have seen this through. He would not let the Order fall into the hands of the Sith - not as long as he drew breath.
Tension began to build in the Force; the slushy ice-morass of darkness was a cold swirl of treachery and lies and he could almost taste Veendo's contempt. There was apprehension there, too. The Rodian was still hiding something for all his protests. Sle'fey needed to know the truth of it.
He barked out, "Have you had contact with the Sith Lord?"
"No, absolutely not. She never said a word. I would never have...." There was anger there and exasperation and just a touch of fear but the nugget of truth shone through. Veendo hadn't known about Sidious.
Sle'fey could almost relax in the realization that Tharten may have been working alone in her dealings with him. But also he had to know what else had been promised, what had been planned for the Jedi Order.
Sle'fey cut across Veendo's protest, pointing one accusing claw at him. "And yet you went along with her, time and time again."
Even before the Rodian could begin to argue, Master Nunb shot back, "So did you."
There were rumbles of agreement from the other Masters, even from those whom Sle'fey had counted as allies. Everyone here had bowed to her indomitable will at one time or another.
Waving off the comment with a sharp flick of one furred paw, Trest Sle'fey growled out, "What did she promise that would make you betray the Order, Veendo?"
Veendo looked ready to rocket out of his seat straight at Sle'fey; his snout was wet with fury. "I never betrayed the Order. It is the Senate who has betrayed us. Making us into lackeys and fools." He raised his voice, hoarse and contemptuous and full of certainty. "The Jedi Order should have been the crowning glory of the Republic, not trash to be discarded with the next squeeze of credits. It was obvious that we had to be strong enough in order to take back what was ours. Sera knew this."
It was ironic. In some twisted, horrifying way, Sle'fey agreed with him. The Jedi should have been the foremost line of defense for the Republic, the guardians of peace and justice - and Light. But Sera Tharten had not tried to accomplish that with truth and the rightness of her actions but with lies and pain and death.
Death - hundreds of former Jedi had died because of her actions. That thought only deepened Sle'fey's disgust. "Strong? How, Veendo? By dismissing Knights? By siphoning off money desperately needed by the Jedi? By gutting the Order?"
"Don't be such a fool. We were making it better." The derision in the Rodian's voice was unmistakable.
The air seemed thinner suddenly or maybe Sle'fey had just forgotten to breathe. "Better? By bleeding it dry?"
"How can you not see? By culling out the weak and useless, of course." Veendo dismissed the rumble of denial from the other Councilors, his gaze flicking toward the guarded door for a moment before settling back into his chair. Nodding toward Sle'fey, he snickered softly, triumphant.
It was obvious Veendo believed what he had done was right but it only made the Bothan more furious.
With a voice as cold as a dead star, Sle'fey said softly, dangerously, "Culling?"
There were many things that Sle'fey had regretted over the years - the deceptions, the secret meetings, the way he bent his neck to that rsshak, Tharten, in order to hide what he was doing - all those things that he had told himself was necessary for the good of the Order but nothing had given him more pain than the loss of the dismissed ones. Those Jedi had done nothing but gotten in the way and they had died for it.
"Culling?" he repeated.
Veendo just smiled. The gorach-slime, was enjoying this obscenity.
The low growl rising in Sle'fey's throat would have warned another Bothan of the danger. But Veendo did not seem to realize just how close he was to having paws wrapped around his neck. Instead, ignoring the question, he only said, "We should be running the Galaxy, taking our rightful place as rulers of the Republic. For that, we needed only the most powerful of the Knights, those with the right mind-set, the right aptitude. Anyone else would just get in the way. Surely, you know this."
For one moment, the Chamber seemed to fill with an astonished hiss, the collective sound of indrawn breath and disbelief. Then there was silence - except for the creak of Nunb's chair as he turned toward Veendo and nodded agreement.
Into the waiting stillness, his muzzle pulled back, his paws curled so tight that he thought his bones might shatter, Sle'fey barked out, "We are servants of the Force, not slave Masters of the Republic."
The Rodian was shaking his head, amused and confident. "You really are blind, Sle'fey, if you think that. Have you learned nothing in the last ten years? The Senate doesn't care about the Jedi nor do the vast wasteland of force-blinds. We have been slaves to every whim of those puling hordes of bureaucratic filth for millennia. We should be dictating what they should do, not waiting for the knife to slit our throats."
Another low growl and Sle'fey felt himself beginning to rise out of his chair, his paws opening and closing, the click of claws on nerfhide a soft counterpoint to the fury he was feeling at the moment. Did Veendo not see how he had betrayed the Jedi, how he had slaughtered those dismissed Knights just as much as if he'd gutted them himself?
His own patience was gone; he could feel it eating at him - banked anger at the fools before him, fear that he would not succeed in returning the Order to its roots, raw guilt that he had not done enough to help those former Jedi avoid the unseen hunters that stalked them still and, under it all, the pain that came with the realization that he hadn't been clever enough to discover the Sith until now - until it might be too late for the Jedi Order.
They needed to find some way to pull the Jedi back from the brink of disaster. Palpatine had engineered all this. And all Veendo could do is prattle on about taking over the Senate. Absurd fool.
A gentle cough, so out of place in this room of broken tiles and unswept corners and fury, cut through the haze of emotion and, confused, Sle'fey blinked at the sound.
Turning, he found Xacor glaring at him, shaking his head sharply and frowning in concern. Then, with his gaze deliberately sweeping across the room, the Zabrak reminded him of just why he was there, why they were all still there. The Hunter's Group under Xacor's guidance had not yet completed their task. They would need more time.
Sle'fey realized that he would have to draw out this little farce a while longer. Taking back the Order had to be their first priority; Palpatine could wait for a few hours.
Sending Xacor a grateful look, he settled back down into his seat. Drawing a deep breath, he blew out the fury of these last few minutes. His paws still ached with pain but it also reminded him of what was at stake.
Sle'fey knew that they needed to solidify their position, removing those who would oppose such a move, and only then could they focus on the real trap. It would not help them to be fighting granite slugs while the Temple was under siege. He must not lose control.
Besides, he had to admit with some satisfaction, Veendo had just condemned himself with his own words.
Now Sle'fey needed to know who else had been willing to cull those in the Light for political gain. Glancing around the room, he stared at each of Tharten's group of Masters - Nunb and Indoctrination's A'Ala-Tanze and Holu TaKet of the Espionage group, trying to decide if they believed in this travesty. "And your accomplices?"
"Nunb agrees with me." A huff of patronizing amusement and Veendo waved his green hand airily towards the others. "As for the rest, it would appear that they don't have the will to accept their destiny." He shook his head, as if astonished that anyone would reject power and the ability to rule over billions. "Tanze here is a fool and Holu plays along for her own reasons."
Ignoring the glares of the Councilors he had just so casually dismissed, Veendo snorted, "They may have been among Master Tharten's collection of right-thinking Jedi but they were told what to do and when to do it. I don't know what hold Sera had over them and I don't care. But you and your little rebellion have now destroyed whatever chance we had of grabbing control of the Republic."
For the briefest moment, he gazed at the entrance to the Chambers, staring at the attentive guards. Then, frowning slightly at the floor, thoughtful for a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. With growing agitation, Veendo said, "Or perhaps not. Tharten is dead but few Jedi know that yet. And the Senate could not possibly have a chance to react to this. We could turn it to our advantage."
Sle'fey twisted away, looking toward Xacor, and shaking his head at such folly. With the Order abused over these last ten years, the numbers of Jedi dropping to the point of ruination, the shame of being helpless in the wake of the Senate's disregard of all of the good the Jedi had done over the millennia - still he would never agree to such a thing.
Apparently, the Rodian Master must have thought silence to be agreement.
Into the astonished wake that followed his statement, Veendo said, "If you think that a Sith Lord is going to allow anything less that the destruction of the Order, you are mistaken. If Palpatine is really such a creature, we need to strike now while he is off-guard. And then we can take over the Senate...."
With absolute distaste, Sle'fey reminded Veendo, "The idea of Jedi ruling the galaxy was one long ago rejected by the Order."
That was quite true. When Sle'fey and Xacor had been but newly minted Knights, several of the more aristocratic Masters whose blood-ties to royal houses had been acknowledged but not encouraged, had argued for just such a thing. The Jedi Council had rejected it outright, claiming that Jedi were not meant to rule and had censured the Masters for it. The Council had maintained that compassion and duty to a higher good were their callings, not some misguided struggle for control over the teeming masses of the galaxy.
The old Council had been right to do so. They were servants of the Force and only that.
Rigid with annoyance, Veendo spat out, "And look what that decision cost us. We are only a step above slavery - them telling us what to do and when to do it, and if not, we are dismissed like week-old garbage. We deserve better."
But Sle'fey was not listening. Instead, something else in the Force was nagging at him, some distant danger about the idea of a Senate takeover - not Palpatine but something else, something that had happened in the past and was happening now. There was the thought of rulers and Jedi Masters and pushing the Order in a direction that had been rejected time and time again.
With a chill, Sle'fey realized that just before the first dismissals, one of the most unrelenting Masters in that long-ago group of aristocrats had left the Order of his own accord. He had rejected the Jedi way, claiming that the Jedi should rule the galaxy and that if they refused the obvious, the Order was no worthy of his effort. Strong in the Force, he had been one of the best swordsmen of the age. He became one of the Lost Twenty when the Order was still counting the loss - before the greater losses of dismissals and deaths.
He was now heading the Separatist movement - Count Dooku.
Dooku and the Jedi and the Republic and rebellion - why would Tharten and Veendo think to take over the Senate? They must have known that it would never work, not without massive backing from other political and militaristic organizations. Did they have such backing? Was there a connection among the Councilors under Tharten's influence and Dooku's?
The very idea was appalling and yet it felt so right.
It also didn't make sense. Tharten was clearly under the influence of Sidious and his slow patient destruction of the Jedi Order. Veendo, Tharten's second in command, was arguing for a Jedi-controlled galaxy similar to Dooku's philosophies.
The obvious conclusion was that they were opposing forces fighting for the remains of the Order, both trying to use the Jedi for their own agendas. Obvious, yes, but nothing seemed to be simple anymore. He'd have to investigate this further – when he had time.
For the moment, however, it was just a distraction. He shook himself free of it. First things first – bring the Jedi Order back to its roots of peace and justice and compassion, and defeat Sidious somehow. Dooku and his philosophies could wait.
Sle'fey turned back to an impatient Veendo, asking, "You mentioned culling. The ones the Order dismissed. Did you help Tharten arrange for their deaths as well?"
"Deaths? What are you talking about?" The Rodian was frowning at the question as if he didn't understand the change in subject. Then he blinked, shaking his head, irritated to be asked such a question. Straightening, his hand brushing the lightsaber against his hip, he said almost casually, "Of course not. We had nothing to do with killing those fools. Why would you say such a thing?"
The reaction only confirmed Sle'fey's suspicions. "We have proof that Tharten had been feeding information on the whereabouts of the dismissed ones to an unknown source, a source we now know to be a Sith Lord. They usually died very quickly once the data was sent out. Did you have a hand in this?"
"Don't be absurd." Veendo's reply was a shade too quick. He lapsed into silence and a glittering, black-eyed stare.
It was an answer of sorts. Trying to keep his fury at bay, Sle'fey turned away deliberately and gazed steadily at the other major player in this. "Then I will ask you, Master Nunb. Did you have anything to do with the deaths of the former Jedi? After all, you were in charge of the dismissals and you kept track of their location for the first six months. Information that would be very useful to the killer."
"No, nothing." Another, hasty response but the Sullustan's voice shook with anxiety. He was sweating, too, his brown skin mottled and damp, a wet sheen of deception. "I knew nothing of what happened to them after the surveillance time was up. It's only been the last few months that I even realized they were dying in large numbers."
Nunb glanced hurriedly at Veendo who was busy silently staring at the guarded door. When he must have realized that there would be no support from his colleague, Nunb looked away, puzzled, staring down at his hands, mumbling, "Master Tharten wanted the lists and I gave them to her." With that, he glanced up, his face rigid as stone. "What she did with them after that is not my concern. I'm not here to protect some useless fool who was stupid enough to be cast out of the Order." He looked thoroughly guilty.
"And the lists themselves? Did you use the information to rid yourself of your enemies? Send them to their deaths because they opposed you in some way?"
Sle'fey had regained his equilibrium. He was certain now that they had handed over lists of those to be dismissed, not to strengthen the Order as Veendo had put it but to get rid of their political foes. But if they had kept releasing the lists to Tharten even after they realized that the dismissed ones were dying in great numbers, this would be murder.
Veendo shifted abruptly, and glaring at the Bothan Master, spat out, "I don't like your tone, Sle'fey. Or your implications."
There was a whisper of sound on his left. From out of the corner of his eye, Sle'fey could see Xacor talking urgently into his comlink. He couldn't quite make out what was being said but the Zabrak kept looking toward the doorway, as if expecting more guards to enter at any moment. A wash of relief shivered through Sle'fey; this was almost done.
Staring back at the Rodian, his voice was space-cold, "My implication is that Tharten was following the orders of a Sith Lord. And you were first among her closest allies. I ask again…."
Apparently he had not been the only one to notice Xacor's hurried murmurs. With a great show of annoyance, Veendo gathered his cloak about him and stood up. "This is outrageous."
A hand hovering just above his lightsaber hilt, glaring first at the guards and then at Sle'fey, Veendo spat out, "I've had enough. More than enough. If not for those hulking animals of Xacor's, I'd have left this interrogation center long ago. But I refuse to be berated by someone as small as you, Master fool." His black eyes were stone and determination. "Order those idiots out of my way or I'll move them myself."
As Veendo began to walk hurriedly toward the door, Sle'fey was there first. Behind him, the guards stood warily, ready to do battle if necessary, but the Bothan signaled them to stand back. He would handle this one. "You are not going anywhere except to a prison cell."
The room was filling with sound - the hurried intake of outraged breath, loud protesting mutters and frantic whisper of Jedi robes as the rest of the Masters sprang to their feet and surrounded the pair.
Sle'fey ignored all but the ragged noise of Veendo's fury.
"Don't threaten me, Sle'fey. I've beaten you before in the arena. Or have you forgotten?" Veendo's hand was full of saber hilt and he pushed it forward, emitter pointing straight at Sle'fey's muzzle. "I thought that we could come to some kind of arrangement but apparently not." With that, his gaze swept across the doorway, and then locked eyes with the Bothan Master once more. "Now get out of my way."
Sle'fey did not even glance down at the lightsaber threatening death mere centimeters from his head. His voice was full of certainty, steady and clear, as he said, "You are under arrest, Veendo, for conspiring to aid the enemies of the Republic, accessory to murder, bribery, theft, falsifying records. Need I go on?"
The saber hilt wavered just for a moment but the rage in the black eyes was rising fast. "You have no proof."
"I've been following you and your friends for quite a while. Leaving the issue of murder aside, I have enough evidence on other charges to send you away for a very long time."
He stared into Veendo's now-sweating face, watched cautiously as the Rodian's guilty gaze dropped and then flicked away to look around the room. It was obvious that he was counting heads, trying to make sure he had enough support to slip through the cage of Hunter's Group guards and Jedi Councilors.
In the Force, the muck-swirl of polluted energy was already beginning to solidify around Veendo's spirit; there was no escape - except through Sle'fey.
His own saber was warm in his pawed grip. Moving slightly as the Rodian's alarm began to distract him, Sle'fey angled away from any direct attack and began to sink into ready stance. It was clear that Veendo would not go down without a fight and Sle'fey needed to survive this. There was too much at stake here.
Knowing that fear can be a powerful motivator and distraction could bring mistakes, Sle'fey pushed again, trying to goad Veendo into foolishness. "Did you think you'd get away with stealing Jedi artifacts and equipment and selling them on the underground market? Or bribing government officials to take part in siphoning off the Order's funds for your own use? Never mind the slaves you bought for Tharten in the last year. Did you think...?"
The sound of a door opening and the several voices beyond was enough. With a hoarse shout, Veendo's blade shoved down toward Sle'fey's face but the Bothan was already moving - although not quite fast enough.
The ozone stench of the lightsaber burning fur and flesh was quickly followed by pulse-pounding agony in his right arm. A small brand across his skin blossomed fire and his smoldering tunic was adding to the pain but he didn't have time to react to it. Veendo was moving again, trying to angle past and reach freedom.
All hell broke loose.
Nunb saw his own chance to escape and rocketed for the door, only to be swung around by one of the guards and then backhanded by Xacor. Flung back, he narrowly missed stepping into the Head of the Espionage group, Holu, who was being pummeled by one of the younger Masters of Sle'fey's contingent, Master Medza. The two other Councilors, Tanze from Tharten's group and Master Phen who was a protege of Xacor, were scuffling in the far corner and the guards were trying to separate friend from foe. It was a brawl of fists and lightsaber swings.
More of the Hunter's Group poured into the room, sabers blazing but it was too dangerous to do more than defend. A wheeling blade could cut friend as well as foe; the melee made it impossible for anything but swift jabs and hand-to-hand combat.
While Sle'fey was pedaling backwards, fighting desperately to keep from being hacked into pieces by Veendo, Xacor punched Nunb again, sending him flying into one of the chairs, hard enough that he lay there half-conscious and unable to do more than stare at the Councilor. The Sullustan didn't even have the strength to protest when a guard slapped a pair of Force cuffs on him, and he merely laid back again, groaning and pulling at the manacles without success.
Ducking a sharp sweep of whining blade, Sle'fey did not see Xacor sizing up the situation and then pelting over to help him. He was trying too hard not to lose a limb, or worse, his head.
Behind the Zabrak, the guards and some of the Masters were still fighting the other two of Tharten's group; the lightsabers from both sides were blazing in short sweeps of color and spitting sound. Those trying to escape, Tanze and Holu TaKet, the Council members who had cheated and stolen with Tharten's encouragement, fell back before the onslaught of combat-hardened guards until, at last, they were shoved down and cuffed.
But Sle'fey was still fighting for his life. Veendo's blue blade was a globe of death-colored light and no one could get near enough to help the Bothan. Xacor moved to one side, obviously looking for an opening but every twist of the blade pushed aside both attacks.
Veendo was good, very good. But he was also alone and surrounded - and furious. Sle'fey could feel him drawing on the dark; the currents of the Force were filthy with the red-black muck of anger and desperation. It seemed to give the Rodian greater power and his blade whirled at a frantic pace.
As he watched Veendo backing up toward the door and freedom, Sle'fey knew he had to end it somehow.
It was Xacor that found the key. A distant clatter of debris, broken floor tiles and pieces of ceiling and captured sabers, grew into a roar as they whizzed past Sle'fey's ear, straight at Veendo. The Rodian slashed furiously at the wreckage, slicing the bits and pieces into scrap, and then focused back on his escape, his lightsaber still whirling fire and death.
Astonishingly, Xacor was not done. The smaller fragments became a hailstorm, pummeling the Rodian, slipping past his guard and straight into his face. Veendo tried to fend off the attack, blinking furiously, one hand up to protect his eyes and then using the Force to push away the rubble even as he continued to slash with his saber.
It was all too much for the Rodian. One small chunk of tile got through, clipping the corner of Veendo's eye, and in that distracted fraction of a second, Sle'fey's blade sliced through Veendo's own saber and most of his hand as well. With an agonized howl, the green Master curled inward, cradling his charred flesh, and collapsed.
There was a relieved quiet. As the discordant whine of lightsabers stilled and the hoarse shouts of denial and fury silenced, only Veendo's pain-filled whimpers remained.
Xacor was first to speak. "Isolate the Councilors in cell AA23. I assume that Master Tharten's body has been removed?" With the nod from one of the guards, he said, "Keep what has happened here quiet but see that Master Veendo has medical attention. We are not barbarians, after all." His eyes flicked toward the blue-hazed transmission still gently humming in the center of the room; the spatter of blood on the prison floor was clearly visible.
Frowning, Xacor said, "The Force shielding must remain on at all times in the cell but do not engage the feedback loop. That device will be dismantled in the next day or so."
The guards nodded as one and began to gather up the cuffed Councilors, Nunb and Holu and Tanze. The three seemed to be dazed by the swiftness of their capture and the painful loss of Force-sense. As they were pushed past the groaning Veendo, the group looked both furious and chagrined.
"Each of you will be charged with treason against the Jedi Order. In addition, various charges will be leveled depending on your activities over the last few years." Sle'fey frowned at the trio, looking at them with exhausted eyes. But his voice was clear and cool and very calm, "It will be in your best interests to cooperate. Think carefully about this and council for your trials will be available to you as soon as we can arrange it. I think you will appreciate that we may need to attend to other matters at the moment."
There was no reaction from the defeated threesome, although Nunb with his face a grey-sludgy brown map of hatred and promised retribution, growled out something imperceptible. Instead, they allowed themselves to be herded out the door and into the reception area without protest.
Master Xacor did not even bother to hide the triumph in his face as he turned toward the fallen Rodian. "Knight Rostak, cuff our Master Veendo and then help him to his feet. He is obviously having problems and the sooner we get him into the cell, the sooner we can get bacta on that wound."
As the guard pulled Veendo up and snapped the Force binders on the remains of his hands, the green Master sent a glare towards the older Masters that was lazer-sharp enough to cut durasteel. A deep growl of fury sounded in his throat, "You won't get away with this, either of you. You have both written your death sentences."
With an indifferent shrug, Sle'fey said mildly, "Perhaps. But I won't go down alone. You will be there before me."
"You'll pay for this, I swear it." Veendo's voice was shrilling up, spouting venom and retribution as the guards pulled him closer to the door. Resisting the pressure to move, digging in his heels, he twisted for a moment, to stare back at the Councilors. "You haven't heard the last of me." And with a great shove, he was through the entrance to the Council Chambers, shrieking foul warning to any and all who would listen as he was dragged away.
Xacor pulled the last of the guards aside and said softly, "Knight Rostak, I'm putting you in charge of this. Keep it quiet. I don't want anyone else to know for now. They will learn of this soon enough."
The foremost of the Hunter's group bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I won't let you down, Master. And now, if you will excuse me, I have a few prisoners to attend to." With a quick nod of approval, Rostak hurried off after the other guards.
The Masters could still hear Rodian curses echoing in the hallway, warbling in furious denial, and the clipped snap of nerfhide boots on tile. They let the sound wash over them, pleas from the guilty and orders from the guards until, a few moments later, the turbolift door closed, cutting off Veendo's condemnation mid-sentence.
It was quiet at last.
As the other Masters looked on, expectant, Sle'fey allowed himself a moment of relief. The first part was done. Now they only had to arrest a beloved-by-all Supreme Chancellor and force the Senate to recommit to a Jedi Order that served the Light.
There was one more thing and it was a small matter in the grand scheme of things. But if Sle'fey were ever to be clean again, he had to get Obi-Wan Kenobi to forgive him for all those years of betrayal.
Now, he needed to focus on what to do next. He turned toward the two younger Masters. "Master Medza, Master Phen, well done. You have helped the Jedi Order to regain its lost Light with your actions. But I would ask for more, if you would allow it."
"I could do nothing less, Master but what now? The threat of Palpatine looms over us all." Tion Medze looked pale but determined. He had also put his finger on the pulsepoint of the problem.
Her face drawn with worry, Master Phen agreed, "And there is a bigger danger. Because of the belief that the Sith were destroyed over a thousand years ago, it is not against the law to be a Sith Lord. We have no legal recourse."
Sle'fey patted the air with his paws, trying to gentle down the anxiety that threatened them all, "Masters, Masters, I agree that it looks grim. But we have a few things to take care of before we can tackle what to do about Sidious."
Exchanging skeptical looks, the two younger Councilors bowed their heads and waited for instruction.
The Bothan was humbled by their faith in his ability and he sent a silent plea to the Force that he might see them through this. Then he got down to business. "Master Medze.... Tion, I need you to check up on our friend from the Senate Oversight Committee, Zaros. Make sure that he's comfortable and tell him that we will see him presently and answer all of his questions. Tell him nothing else."
With a snort and a quick shake of the head, smiling grimly, Tion said, "Sending me into battle already?" The other Masters shared his trepidation but someone had to deal with that pompous bureaucrat. Better a Jedi who had never opposed the man before. It would confuse the ornate buffoon. "Very well, Master. But I must admit that I'd rather face a nest of gundarks without a saber than him."
Xacor clapped the young man on the shoulder, and snickered softly, "So would we all."
Joining in with a quick yip of amusement, enjoying the moment, Sle'fey was reluctant to let it go but time was pressing fast. He turned to the other young Master, "Phen, check on Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. I need to know what their conditions are and when they will be able to function again, particularly in defense of the Jedi Order."
She nodded gravely. "Since I have some experience in hospital field triage before taking over my current post, I can tell you right now that Master Jinn will be marginally functional within a day or so. The method that Padawan Sl'etah used was quite effective and since it cauterized a stomach wound, it will be much easier to repair than the shoulder wound of Knight Kenobi. I'm not sure how badly Kenobi is hurt. He may need further surgery and extensive physical therapy. But I will check for you."
The news was less than he had hoped but that could not be helped. She had experience and she would know what questions to ask. "Good. Report back here in half an hour. We will discuss our options then."
With that dismissal, both Masters bowed and hurried off - gathering information that might be vital to their cause. When they were out of sight, Sle'fey let himself go and slumped boneless into his chair.
Xacor stood over him, looking down with concern. "Trest, next time, let me take the lead. You haven't been to the arena in a long time. Lightsaber fighting takes practice if you don't want to lose a few parts of your anatomy."
Deep in his chest, a sound of exhaustion and fear rumbled there. He nodded wearily, "A lesson I learned quite well today." As he leaned back, he wiped a paw across his eyes, trying to will away the tiredness. "I didn't want it to end like this. I had hoped that they would have seen reason."
The Zabrak Master snorted, an inelegant sound but he was never one for ignoring the truth or avoiding it. "Tharten's group? Not in this lifetime." Shaking his head, he said, "It turned out better than I had hoped, considering the circumstances."
Sle'fey looked at Xacor with affection. Straightforward and true, he was a good friend and the only one Sle'fey would have chosen to guard his back, with the exception of one other and Kenobi would never have accepted the idea anyway.
Shoving aside the errant thought, he rubbed his eyes again, and winced as the charred skin on his arm pulled tight. He ignored it.
"With no clear holopics and scrambled vid feeds…." Bleakly, he admitted, "Zak, I thought it was one of Palpatine's aides. I thought it was Wilhuff Tarkin. His family has long opposed the Jedi Order and their ambitions have only become more obvious with time. He's young enough but with his family's influence, he's managed to cut our funding almost in half, he and his cousin Ranulph before him. I never expected Palpatine. Never!"
He looked away, into the late morning light, not really seeing the beauty of the day but only the duty he must follow. Even if that duty led to his death, he would do right by the Jedi Order and bring it back to the Light. He was puzzled and confused at the information that Kenobi had obtained. "Palpatine hasn't been in the Senate or Chancellor for long enough to bring the Order to this. The Tarkins have been manipulating the Senate for years. Decades!" He looked away for a moment, then whispered, "It made sense."
"Trest, I agreed with you if you remember." Sitting abruptly into his own chair, Xacor nodded, "Palpatine had everyone fooled. The question becomes what do we do about it."
"That's just the problem. I have no idea."
