Responses to Reviews
Triglavian, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: Now we are at the endgame. Only three chapters to go. Enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you think!
LewtonSpoons, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: Thank you for enjoying my epic twist. Now enjoy the fruit of the Serenno twin's labours.
TheChamp123, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: It's great that you didn't see any of this coming – I was scared that I had made it too obvious throughout the story. My purpose has been achieved and I am so happy about that. The fam is kind of back together, not really (read on to find out) – Papa Wan is being the Council's little bitch. Your questions will be revealed later, but in the meantime, I would advise rereading Anakin's Mortis prophecy. You're working on a Game of Thrones OC fic? Tell me more – what's it about and what are your ideas? My first rule is: do NOT publish until you have at least one draft of the story. Once you have a draft then you know you're not going to disappoint anyone, readers or yourself, if the reviews are disappointing or writer's block comes knocking. And trust me, no matter how epic your story is, writer's block will come knocking. When it does, leave the manuscript and hit up Pinterest or google for dialogue prompts or distract yourself for a select period of time, but don't forget about your project! Additionally, delaying publication until you have at least a draft means that you can go back and add better lines. Some of the best lines/scenes in this fic were added after I went to the shower or, unhelpfully, three weeks later when I was working on another chapter. "Papa-Wan" was added on a whim, minutes before publication. Without more information about the fic you're writing, I can't give you any other advice. PM if you want to have a deeper discussion about OC development. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!
DojoYoyo, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: Glad you enjoyed my epic twist and the references. This does change everything. Troops had to die for medical progress. I'm going to have to disappoint you about the Bad Batch and Echo because we don't get any more material of them – thanks Dave Filoni. I have no idea what they were doing during the Revenge of the Sith.
Hghg (Guest), 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: Glad that I managed to surprise you! Pallas and Ahsoka strike me as the sort of girls that would get along like a house on fire, if they weren't fighting on opposite sides of the war. Quite honestly, they both need some female friends. And you are correct - they would certainly tag-team to embarrass Ares. Read on for Pallas' and Ares' grand plan of stopping the Chancellor. PS. I'm not planning on writing any more after this, but if I do I will post an update on this story. And have a nice weekend too.
TragicFiction, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: Thank you for enjoying it! Did you expect the twist?
THEguitarist117, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: The reaction that you had is what I've been waiting to hear for many, many MONTHS. Thank you so much for satisfying my need for approval and the flattery. I personally hate M. Night Shyamalan after he butchered Avatar the Last Airbender and refuse to watch anything he makes, but I get the joke so thank you XD. All this time, Pallas was the anti-villain to Ares' anti-hero and I'm glad that you both loved and hated her – hopefully, now you can love her as much as I have. They are fucking geniuses. They were groomed since they were children to be geniuses. Man, you made my heart melt – perfect story telling? Doing a 180? Second only to, I assume, the "I am your father" scene? You're welcome and thank you so much. Enjoy the next chapter!
rainfallMyth, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: Happy to have blown your mind – I promised I would, didn't I? You may now re-read the entire story knowing that both twins are deep undercover, plotting an intergalactic coup, and CL-Y is a spy/Pallas. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!
Starwarsfan1114, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: I am so happy that were so surprised. "The greatest plot-twist in the history of plot-twists" is going on a plaque somewhere. When the chapters finish, I advise to reread the story with the knowledge that Pallas and Ares are both deep undercover and CL-Y is a spy/Pallas. Vindi is an evil cockroach, but thank god Count Dooku, and by extension Pallas, is filthy rich and so he can be leased for hire. Thank you for your moment of silence. There's a rule in Clone Wars: if you name your clones, they become real and thus their deaths are so much sadder. Enjoy the chapter!
Falconfighter1427, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: I'm thrilled that you didn't see the plot-twist coming. I thought I had made it too obvious or my love for Pallas' character was giving it away, but you sound like you really enjoyed it. Here's the next chapter, enjoy!
Xxnikw575xX, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: If I have to pull what one reader called "the greatest plot-twist in the history of plot-twists" to smoke out the lurkers, then fine! In all seriousness, thank you so much for reviewing – it means a lot to me. "Beautiful art… sculpted by a great writer" – where the hell have you been all this time? My heart is melting! For now, your torture ends here, but will resume until next Friday. Three chapters left. See you then!
Uchica cat, 10.07.2020, Ch. 16: Mixed feelings? Are they good feelings or bad feelings that you can't put into words? Don't be afraid to critique – I welcome criticism. Actually, the Battle of Anaxes ended just before the Martez sisters called Ares – so it's really, really close. How the story ends? You have three more chapters to see that outcome, so savour them. Thank you for considering this as an amazing story.
Bdbleyker, 11.07.2020, Ch. 16: Yes, we all have those fond memories of watching the Clone Wars as a kid. Personally, my obsession with Star Wars drove my mom crazy, so she wouldn't watch it with me, like yours did. Aw, I'm very happy that you enjoyed my premise idea of "the plan" and my characters – very kind praise. You mentioned grammar mistakes and I know it's not your job to beta-read, but I re-read the chapter about three times and didn't notice any – could you kindly point to the place they can be found? If there was a career in writing fanfictions, I'm very flattered to hear you think that I could make it. Man, writing fanfictions for money, wouldn't that be the dream? Unfortunately, there isn't (Unless you have an in 😉). Now, if only I could turn writing fanfictions into writing actual fiction, that would be great. You have some very interesting theories about what could happen in this universe if the Dark Lord is removed from power. I'm not going to spoil the end of the story for you by commenting on them. However, I'm fascinated – real life events and current fears such as… Trump? Post-corona conspiracy theories? What were you thinking of? I can't claim that I'm terribly well versed in the world of politics. P.S. don't you dare apologise for lengthy reviews. The longer they are, the more ramble-y the better. P.P.S please ignore my private message in your inbox. Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter.
PJShiper, 11.07.2020, Ch.12: Glad you enjoyed the insight into Ares' previous life. Looking forward to hearing more from you!
NCStampede, 12.07.2020, Ch. 16: Thank you for calling this awesome. Here's some more of that great work. Let me know what you think.
DuckBoi, 12.07.2020, Ch. 16: Wow, you got here in the nick of time. I thought I wouldn't be hearing from you, but I'm so happy that I did. Palpatine's kids, huh? Interesting theory. Question is: is scheming genetic? Dooku's pretty scheme-y too. He'd be proud as well, if it wasn't twenty years of his life down the drain (sounds like every dad's life ever to be honest). I'm glad that I blew up your brain - it was always my intention. Good luck scraping it off the walls and floor. Define too much foreshadowing? Ahsoka is just... a teenage girl with raging hormones, a boyfriend and crazy acrobatic abilities. If I had those three things, I'd become an air vent pervert too. Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 17 – The Battle for Coruscant
"Remind me again why we can't regrow my hair?" asked Ares, pouting. He was sitting on the operating table of The Laboratory. Vindi's corpse had been disposed of by now. A medical droid was applying bacta-spray to onto the red, pounding marks that remained of Vindi's work. It was strange to be bald. Ares felt almost naked.
"Because it would be a waste of time. Stop being such a drama queen," said Pallas, not lifting her eyes from her holo-pad and battle reports. She was sitting cross-legged on the other end of his operating table.
Ares looked at his sister. She could have easily read her battle reports in her quarters or on the command bridge, but she chose to come down here and spend time with him. She must have missed him so much. He couldn't imagine what the war must have been like for her.
"How did you stay sane?" he found himself asking her. His sister was not the same person he had left on Raxus and certainly not the same person he had fought the war against, and yet, paradoxically, she was a strange hybrid of both.
She was surprised by the question and it took her a few moments to think about it. She put the holo-pad down. "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure I am sane. Sleep is impossible. Food is tasteless. Sometimes, I swear I can hear my enemies creeping in the corridors, then I realise it's a droid patrol or something. I certainly don't feel sane. I live in a confusing world where my true friends try to kill me and my real enemies call themselves my allies."
"I'm sorry," said Ares, feeling as if he hadn't said those words enough to her. "For not being there for you."
Surprisingly, Pallas smiled. "Oh, but you were. CL-Y sent me more than just the Republic's battle data. She sent me you, too. When I was alone, I'd have you with me, even if you didn't know it. Sometimes you'd chat to the droid and she'd live broadcast it to me. It was… almost like you were there."
"Glad I could help," said Ares, unsurely. "Did… did you ever hate me?"
"Ha! It would have been so easy to," said Pallas. "You spent the war in such enviable blissful ignorance. The person you loved was with you through most of it. You could tell her anything, your worst secrets, and she'd understand or at least try to. When I watched you make decisions, they were so… inconsequential by comparison to the decisions I had to make. Even before the war, you've always been lucky." She seemed to realise the dark direction of her thoughts and shuddered out of them. "But I didn't want to give the Dark Lord or our father the satisfaction."
Some daughter of the Sith, Ares thought amusedly. "Wodin would be so proud of you," he said.
The mention of her late husband's name made Pallas wince and curl up, hugging her knees. The dead man's long-coat, his constant reminder, seemed to engulf the young woman. "The war is not over yet," she said.
"No, but almost," said Ares. "How's father doing these days?" All these years, he had spent so long thinking about his vengeance, but not nearly as much time as he should have about the actual man.
A deep hatred sparked in Pallas' eyes. "He's developed gout on his left knee. Wakes up every morning at dawn. During breakfast, which is always vegetarian, he usually gets a call from me. Drinks his tea with two cubes of sugar. After that, he takes a stroll in the gardens. Usually he meditates for an hour before beginning his day. After morning, his schedule varies," said Pallas. "…It's depressing how much I know about him."
"Wow," said Ares. "I didn't even notice any of that when I was his pupil."
"You weren't planning his murder when you were his pupil," said Pallas. "And you certainly haven't been doing it well enough as a captain."
"I know, I just…" said Ares. "It's always been such an esoteric idea, almost a dream, to kill him. I don't think I ever truly believed I'd be the one to do it. I think I liked being a captain because it gave me something productive to do and yet distract me from my main goal. I can't explain it."
"You've never had a plan before," said Pallas. "Are you nervous, now that you do?"
Ares rubbed his eyes, irritated. "How's mom?" he asked, hoping to distance the topic. His head was so muddled that he didn't want to talk about any of this.
"…You are not funny," replied Pallas, coldly, and took up her holo-pad again.
"Lux said something like that too," said Ares. She said nothing, only continued scrolling down the pages of her battle report. Ares decided he didn't want to play games or tricks with her. "Do you want to talk about him?"
"After the war," said Pallas, more to herself than to him.
Ares wondered how many times his sister had said that line to herself. "Ok," he said.
"I like Ahsoka," said Pallas suddenly. "I think your taste in girls has improved considerably since you joined the Republic."
"Yeah, I figured you liked her. You did buy her as your sex slave the other day," said Ares.
Pallas rolled eyes. "She shouldn't have been running around with two idiots."
"Arguably, getting idiots out of trouble is kind of her thing," said Ares, smirking. "So, does she get the family stamp of approval?"
"Well, I don't know about the rest of the family, but the twin stamp of approval says 'Marry her, Ares. You're not going to do better'," said Pallas. "…Mina liked her too." It had been the first time Pallas had said the name since the terrible deed and a cold rush of guilt tore through her. Ares felt it and, wishing to spare his sister this difficult conversation, decided to press on.
"Thanks for… not incarcerating her when she trespassed onto Raxus with Senator Amidala that one time," said Ares.
The young general smiled weakly. "Likewise, thanks for looking out for Lux," said Pallas. "You didn't take CL-Y with you to Onderon, but… I can imagine he couldn't have been too happy to see you."
Ares felt they were delving into dangerous territory. He decided to change the subject. "Where's Pompeii?" he asked.
"I sent him on a scouting mission," said Pallas. "He'll be back before the battle begins."
"Should we tell him?" asked Ares.
"No," said Pallas, bitterly. "I thought about it often, but no. We shouldn't. Ever since our… adventure on Zygerria and the death of his mother, he's become devoutly patriotic. More than before. He wouldn't understand. He'll think we're traitors."
"Alright," said Ares. "You're the boss, little sister."
"Force sake, we have the same birthday," said Pallas, smiling despite her annoyance at their oldest point of discord.
"As far as I'm concerned, you were six minutes late for my birthday," said Ares.
"…I've missed you so much," said Pallas, smiling at him.
Ares pouted. "It's not fun if you're not annoyed."
Pallas winked. "Exactly," she whispered. "So, I win." Ares shoved her with his elbow lightly, making her laugh.
The door of the Laboratory slid open and Ahsoka walked in, cautiously. "Am I interrupting or…?" she asked.
"No, no, come in. We're just having a stupid argument," said Ares, brightening up at seeing her. Pallas noticed his mood and gave him a that knowing look that annoying sisters were well versed in. Ares saw it and ignored her. "What's up?" he asked Ahsoka.
"The boys have been dispatched with the lice," said Ahsoka. "How's the head injury?"
"All done, sir," said the medical droid, packing up the medical supplies.
Ares touched the scalp, expecting to find some of the scars but found none. Smooth baldness, he thought ruefully. "I still feel naked without hair," he moped again.
Pallas rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Why are boys always so precious about their hair?" she asked the Togruta.
"You're asking the wrong person," replied Ahsoka. She walked up to Ares. "I guess I owe you this back." She held out the curved lightsabre of Count Dooku. She had since reunited the crystal with the hilt.
Ares clicked his teeth and took the hilt, igniting the red blade. "Damn, I was just starting to get used to a Jedi's weapon," he said and winked at the Togruta.
"I wish I could say the same about a Sith's weapon," said Ahsoka, rolling her eyes.
"Why? Too long for you?" he asked, boyishly immature. Ahsoka shoved him away, groaning exasperatedly.
Pallas imitated gagging noises in the background. "When you say stuff like that, it makes me wish Father donated you into a Jedi youngling creche."
"Yeah? How's being an only child like? Enjoyable?" asked Ares.
Pallas gave him a smouldering glare.
"We should go over our plan again," said Ahsoka.
Ares groaned. "Do we have to?" He hated their plan. Flirting with Ahsoka and annoying his sister were much more fun activities.
Pallas chuckled. "This is why she's a commander and you're not," said Pallas, smirking. She put the holo-pad away and pushed herself off the operating table. "Let's get started."
[][][]
"What would you do if you had to kill your master?" Ares found himself asking Ahsoka much later. "What if you were in my position?"
The question surprised Ahsoka. She tried to picture Anakin, kind and brave and noble, as a Sith Lord, a destroyer of worlds, and found the notion absurd. "I… can't quite imagine it," she admitted.
"Yeah… me too," said Ares, quietly. "I know it's not the same… I just—Forget it."
"No," said Ahsoka, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Talk. What's on your mind?"
And suddenly Ares was reminded of the privilege of talking. A privilege his sister hadn't had for three years and he felt guilty. "It's nothing," he said.
"An unmade mind is a poor ally in battle," she said, crossing her arms.
"My mind is made!" Ares exclaimed. "I just have a case of cold feet. It'll go away when I see the bastard," he said and leaned forward to kiss her lips. "I'll see you soon." He turned away and started leaving.
"Ares!" Ahsoka called out to him, thinking of what she could give him. "…Good luck." His smile was the last she saw of him before he was gone.
[][][]
There was no light, except the glow of the moonlight through the stained-glass window, which threw its sickly green colour across the room. Ares stood in his father's dark chambers. The king-sized bed had not yet been made, a bottle of amber whiskey with a crystal glass was on the bedside table and the count himself was getting dressed in his walk-in wardrobe. Ares had decided to give his father the decency to face him dressed.
The young man had his lightsabre clutched tightly in his hand, shaking. He took a deep breath.
The old count stepped out and for the first time in three years Ares was facing his father. "So… you have returned home," Dooku said. His regal drawl rebounded off the tall ceiling of the room. "I sensed your conflicted feelings and guilty conscience the moment you stepped onto my threshold."
"You haven't tried to escape then," said Ares, tightening his grip on the curved lightsabre hilt. It was pitch black outside. The morning would soon be upon them and the Confederate Fleet would take off for Coruscant. Dooku has to die before that, he told himself. Father must die!
"Escape? From you? Don't be absurd, boy," said Dooku as he turned to look at the face of his wayward son. He had grown from the boy Dooku remembered. No longer was this the face of a naïve 16-year old child unschooled in the harshness of the world, but a young man, learned and full grown. He was 19 now, a man. It had been a long time since Dooku had seen him.
Ares looked at Dooku. Master, thought Ares, bitterly. It had been a title he could never bestow upon Obi-Wan – it wasn't the same.
Dooku was still the stately count with his fine robes, his aristocratic face and his disciplinarian, dark eyes. The burdens of war and dark arts had made him older than before. The creases and wrinkles of his face were prominent, and the silver hair was pure white. Ares recognised the curved lightsabre that glistened on his belt: silver, curved and ornate. Three years ago, it had belonged to Ares. He had believed it had been destroyed in a duel that had never taken place. He wondered if Count Dooku ever looked at it and thought of his son, like he thought of his father when he looked at his own weapon.
"Why did you do it? Why did you sell out our family to your master?" Ares asked, desperate to ground the impending murder upon something tangible. "What could have possibly been worth it?" Of all his thousands of questions that had been stewing in his head, this is what he wanted to ask his father the most.
"Sell the family?" Dooku asked, puzzled. "I never sold the family."
"You sacrificed it, my sister and me - mother too, probably - so that your master could become powerful. Why would you do that?" said Ares. "Did you not love us all enough?"
Dooku looked his son up and down. "Would you like a drink, son?"
Ares winced at that word. It had been so long since he was called that. "No," said Ares. "I just want an answer."
"As a Jedi, I was always taught that power corrupts. Power is dangerous. Power ruins people and leaves nothing but ash in its wake," said Dooku. "They were disillusioned fools, as I'm sure you've become aware." Ares didn't need to be told twice about the Jedi Council's folly. "Power is safety and those who deny it are vulnerable to the worst of storms. It's a lesson I've always tried to impart on you."
"The storms come for the powerful and the weak alike, father," said Ares. "Only a fool tries to command the elements."
A smirk jumped to Dooku's bearded lips. "I seem to recall my old padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn, saying something to that effect. Has Obi-Wan Kenobi been schooling you in old Jedi proverbs, my boy? Has your time with the Jedi Order brought you enlightenment?"
Ares felt his shoulders sag. He had always promised himself to never adopt the ways of the Jedi. He had always felt disgust with himself when he found himself mirroring them. "Not really," he found himself saying. "They're fools being led astray. I've seen it."
The count laughed. "No matter. It can all be undone," said the count, outstretching a hand. "I can teach you everything you need to know again. You are my son. It is my duty and privilege to pass on everything I have to you." What was it about fathers that made them so… persuasive? Ares wondered. Was it the guilt that they inspired or the love that they baited or a macabre combination of the two? "I'm an old man. Soon, I will die. Everything I have, everything I've accomplished, can be yours, son."
It seemed like such a cheap, old trick: being wanted, being part of a real family, being provided for, being loved, but it was a treacherous temptation. One that the Jedi Order had always been afraid of, Ares thought angrily.
"The Rule of Two…" Ares said feebly, weakly.
"Is obsolete," stated the count. "Soon, the galaxy will find itself with a new order – a Sith Order. Two Lords of the Sith will not be able to control the entire galaxy alone. My master will need us to bring peace to this ravaged universe. Join us. Together, we can build a new order. My son, my worthy heir, Darth Filius."
Ares thought where he had heard that epithet before. It could have been a dream or… no. It was on Mortis. He remembered dying, that feeling of a sleepless nothingness, a nameless emptiness. The Father, who had seen the future, had christened him that. He thought about his sister and their plot; with one well-placed holo-call he could stop the lice from being spread. Why did he spend so much of his own suffering trying to save a disillusioned order? He had come to them an orphan with gifts. What have they ever given him in return?
He thought of Obi-Wan. The man had vouched for him, stuck his neck out for him against his own order because he believed that scared, abandoned boys needed a chance, a guide in a terribly dark and unforgiving world. He thought of Anakin Skywalker, his recklessness, stubborn foolish belief that he could change the very elements that held the balance of the world. Finally, he thought of Ahsoka dying, watching her lightsabre fall from her hand and himself screaming at her corpse.
If he followed down this offered path, would she join him? He couldn't picture her being anything other than a Jedi but in name. Would he have to be the one to kill her or would it be someone else? Each prospect sounded worse than the other. In the past three years, he had built a family, weaselled himself into a nest that forbade family and attachment. How would he live with himself if he destroyed that nest? He thought about his twin sister, who had to break comfortable nests time and time again, and the haunted, unforgiving look in her eyes warning him of the horrors of her actions.
"If guilt and bribery is what you're offering me to hold our broken family together," said Ares, "then it's time to grow up." The red blade in his hand buzzed to life.
Anger flared in Dooku's eyes and the sound of thunder crackled in the room. "What is about to occur shall happen whether you will it or not," said Dooku. "You'd be wise to find yourself on the winning side."
"Win or lose," said Ares, as he got into a Soresu stance, "we'll all perish for the Dark Lord."
"I'll make short work of you, boy." The silver hilt on count Dooku's side flew into the old man's hand, the red blade hummed to life and the count launched at his son.
[][][]
"Rex? Do you copy? Rex, come in," Ahsoka spoke into her long-range commlink that Pallas had provided. She was inside the general's quarters on-board The War God standing in a brown Jedi cloak that hid her face and lightsabres. It was a safe space where no droids or military officers would accidentally come in and find her.
"Copy, commander," replied the voice of the clone captain.
"Status report," asked Ahsoka.
"The boys and I have spread the lice to the 21st, 327th and 212th. Vaugh and Joker are currently working on General Fisto's regiment. Jesse and Blackjack are on Kashyyyk with General Yoda's men," said Rex. "Haven't heard from Knocker on Boz Pity yet."
"What about the 501st?" asked Ahsoka.
"We can't reach them. They're in deep space," said Rex. "We can't get to them until they land."
"Damn," Ahsoka muttered. "Where are you?"
"I'm on Coruscant working my way through the barracks, but there's isn't as many battalions here as we had anticipated. They've all been deployed to the Outer Rim Sieges."
"Pallas said that would be a problem," said Ahsoka, sighing. "It would be impossible to vaccinate the whole army."
"The boys and I will do our best," said Rex. "Good luck, commander. You got the hard part. We're with our brothers. You're with the Seppies."
Ahsoka chuckled. It was indeed absurd to be allies with Separatists. "Strange time to be alive." She looked at the time. "I have to go. The fleet is about to depart."
"May the force be with you," said Rex and was gone.
The young ex-Jedi fastened the hood over her head, stepped out of the general's quarters and looked around to see if there were any droids patrolling the corridors. Most battle droids had not become accustomed to her presence on the ship. The exception were the pilot droids. She didn't really want to cut down any of her hosts' soldiers without need. So, she snuck around corners and edges to get to the command bridge.
"I just got a report from Rex," said Ahsoka as she came up to stand beside Pallas. "About a million troops have been vaccinated."
Pallas took a deep breath and put her hands behind her back. "We're behind schedule," she said. "…Those will have to be the numbers we have to work with." She checked her watch. "It's time to take off. The invasion is already 6 minutes late. The dawn has risen." Pallas bounced on the heels of her shoes nervously.
"You run a tight ship, general," said Ahsoka.
The general smiled weakly. "You have no idea," Pallas said, before turning to her pilot droids. "Take to the skies. Set a course for Coruscant."
"But, general, Count Dooku hasn't been confirmed to be on board," said a pilot.
"You let me worry about my father," said Pallas. "Make contact with General Grievous."
"What do you want me to do?" asked Ahsoka.
Pallas looked at her and then at her usual seat. "Sit in that chair, rest and watch the show. Your role will soon be upon us." Ahsoka nodded and took a seat in what felt like a colossal throne. She crossed her legs, kept her cloak hood up and meditated, vaguely listening to Pallas' commands to her troops.
The bony figure of General Grievous appeared in a blue hologram. He coughed as a greeting.
"My ships are ready, Grievous," said Pallas. "Are yours?"
"Yes, but where is Count Dooku?" said Grievous.
"Change of plans, general. He's on board my flagship," said Pallas.
"That wasn't what we agreed!" Grievous roared.
"The plan is what my father says it is, general," said Pallas, sternly. "You can query his decisions with him after the battle, but you're going to bring the Chancellor onboard The War God." Behind her back, Pallas tightened her fist. "I have a special cell ready for His Excellency."
"If your ships are still in one shape, that is," Grievous said. "My fleet will meet yours on Coruscant then."
"Don't worry about my ships. I happen to be a good general. It's a theft, not an invasion," said Pallas. "Don't be late." She shut off the hologram. "Make the jump to hyperspace!" The battle of Coruscant had begun.
[][][]
Amidst their duel, Dooku felt the disturbance and looked around. Ares did too and grinned. "I sense it too. The fleet has left. You are not in control anymore," said Ares and slammed down his lightsabre at the old man.
Dooku bounced the blade away. "Obi-Wan has trained you well. It seems that my dealings with you are taking longer than anticipated," he said. With an outstretched hand, the green stained glass of the window shattered, and their piercing shards fired at Ares.
The young man pushed the debris away and when the debris cleared, his father had escaped through the broken window. Rage burned through his veins. Coward, Ares thought. He force-leapt out of the window. Ares could see the count sprinting through the courtyard. He lifted a nearby crate and threw it at the old man. Whilst Dooku was slicing through it, Ares had enough time to force-jump into the courtyard and rush at him with a yearning blade.
The count stretched out his hand, unleashing blue lightning from his fingertips, but found startling resistance. To his horror, his blue sparks bled with red. The two elements crackled together, pushing its wielders apart from one another. The bricks on the courtyard's floor were uprooted and blasted away like heavy leaves in the wind. Dooku felt himself weaken from the strain of such a release of power and realised that his son had none of that fatigue.
In the smoke, Dooku saw two ruby red eyes watching at him. "Most impressive," said Dooku.
[][][]
The Battle of Coruscant was as violent and bloody as could be expected. Coruscant had not been attacked in thousands of years, but still had one of the largest bases of Republic cruisers and battalions. The Separatist fleet was the largest that had ever been assembled. Pallas and Grievous had planned the invasion to coincide with the Outer Rim Sieges where battalions that specialised in space battles would be occupied, but there was still much stiff resistance and heavy fire. Republic reinforcements were also pouring in from all sides.
"General!" a droid shouted out to her. "We lost frigates 3 and 15."
"Move the rear ships to cover their positions. Formation Echo 10. Use the debris for cover!" Pallas replied instantly. "We're here to steal, not stay."
"Sir!" another droid shouted out. "General Grievous has made contact. He says that he has the Chancellor."
"Send out fighters to cover him!" Pallas ordered. "Open the main hanger for him!"
"Roger, roger!" said the droid.
Pallas turned to Ahsoka. "I believe now is your moment." Ahsoka nodded. "May the Force be with you, my friend," Pallas said as Ahsoka left the command bridge with the stealth of a shadow.
"You too," Ahsoka said.
[][][]
Dooku force-jumped out of the way of his son's sabre slam.
"I can sense your fear. Your panic at losing your power," said Ares. "You were dubbed the dark tyrant, father. A powerless tyrant now." He gave such a powerful force push that it sent Dooku tumbling off his feet and blasted him further and further down the earthy path of their courtyard.
Dooku coughed the dust out as he stood up and pressed the button on his wrist to summon The Solar Sailor and its pilot droid to his position. "I see you're using my teachings, boy," said Dooku. "Words can be as deadly as swords."
"And you're diverting focus," Ares growled, harking back to his training as a child. "If I were your master, I'd be pretty disappointed with you." He launched a sequence of heavy overhead strikes. He channelled his anger and fury into those hits, weakening his old, frail, physically diminished opponent. "I spent this war." Strike. "Fighting on frontlines." Strike. "Whilst you!" Strike. "Sat on your throne of bones!" Strike. "Like a weakling." Strike.
Dooku wiped his forehead. There was sweat everywhere. This duel was costing him greatly. His son was stronger than he had expected. His energy was leaving him. He wouldn't be able to sustain this much longer.
The Solar Sailor came whizzing overhead, but Ares had pressed down on Dooku too hard for him to make the jump. The count heard it come around and land a few yards away. Dooku stayed on the defence, deflecting crippling strikes and walking backwards towards the ship.
"You're not leaving, are you, father?" Ares mocked. The red eyes burned so angrily. "We've only just begun to have quality family time!"
At his first chance, Dooku pushed his son off and made a run for the final few steps to the ship. Blades clashed together, hissing. Dooku tried to kick him off his footing, but in that moment Ares kicked him in his left, gout-riddled leg, causing the count to yelp out in pain, swivelled the red blade and caught his father's wrists under its fiery blade, cleaving them off. Both hands and the silver lightsabre fell to the ground. The count shrieked out in agony and fell to his knees. Dooku looked up at his son, eyes begging for mercy.
"Give into your anger. Kill me and you will become the new Lord of the Sith in my place!" said Dooku.
The red eyes smouldered with anger.
[][][]
Grievous' ship landed in the main hanger of The War God. His metallic legs clucked out of the ship with the Chancellor slung over his skeletal shoulder. He had carried the old man from the Senate building and stunned him to make the journey easier.
Pallas' tactical droid was waiting for him with a large battalion in the hanger. She really shouldn't have put so much effort for a decrepit old man, Grievous thought.
"Greetings, General Grievous," said the tactical droid. It had Pallas' insignia imprinted on his chest. "We have a cell prepared for the Chancellor. General Pallas is waiting for you on the command bridge."
Grievous gave the limp politician's body to the droids and watched them place it onto a levitating trolley and carry it away. After a moment, he began his journey to the upper levels. He pressed the button to summon the elevator to take him to the command bridge. The yellow beady eyes watched the light of the elevator speed down. He heard the chime and the doors opened. Inside was Skywalker's apprentice.
"You!?" the cyborg roared out. If she was here, Skywalker must be not far behind. He had not expected the Jedi to get onto the ship so quickly. This was precisely why he wanted to use his flagship, not Pallas'. He took two lightsabres from his cloak and ignited them, charging with a raging speed.
Ahsoka's green blades hummed against Grievous' but didn't spend too much time in a position where a cunning cyborg hand could stab her from the underbelly. Using her nimble size, she outfoxed and slid through Grievous' wide, but empty frame and ran out to the open hanger. Grievous barrelled after her, screaming, furious.
"Where do you think you're going, youngling?!" Grievous roared, coming closer. He helicoptered the blades in his mechanical appendages. There was bloodlust in his yellow eyes.
[][][]
"You summoned me?" asked Pompeii as he walked in through the sliding doors of the command bridge of The War God.
Since that business with the Jedi on his mother's slave auction, he had been bent on vengeance against the Jedi, the Republic and, most importantly, Ares. The problem was that Pallas allowed him quarters and membership in her droid battalions, but no insight on 'The Plan' or any meaningful positions of command. He knew she had secrets that she wasn't telling him, strategies she wouldn't divulge, and spies she wouldn't name. Pompeii carried his hollow commander's badge on his lapel with deep shame. His ancestors would be disappointed.
Pompeii found the young general behind the workstation of the ship's first mate droid. The droid stood patiently beside her as she fixed the last motions of the system. Control freak, he thought with amusement.
"Yes," said Pallas, without looking up or losing her concentration or momentum. "I have a job for you. The fleet is in your command," she said. Pompeii felt his body rise up in pride and he beamed. "I want you to organise the retreat," she added, and his face fell.
"What?" the Zygerrian barked, angry. "But… why? We could take Coruscant and end the war! Why are we retreating?! Why did we come all this way?!"
Pallas fixed a hard glare on him. "We have what we came for: The Chancellor," she said and continued rushing with the computer systems. "We do not have the resources or droids to keep at this invasion and neither is that what we came here for."
"If we press the invasion, the Chancellor will agree to whatever you want to save his people," argued Pompeii.
"You don't know the Chancellor very well, Pompeii," said Pallas, absentmindedly. "I need to go below deck. I'm giving the command of this ship and the rest of the fleet to you, Pompeii, and your orders are to organise the retreat of our fleet. Don't be a hero. I don't want a repeat of Kiros."
"This whole war… all I've done is bring defeat and shame to my people. All I've ever done is lose," said Pompeii, slumping his shoulders.
"Pompeii, I promise you, if you organise this retreat, it will be a great victory," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Her words didn't have their desired effect because he jerked away from her.
"Abducting an old man and retreating is not the stuff they'll write songs about," mumbled Pompeii.
"Abducting a very, very important man and regrouping is the stuff that will win the war," she corrected him. He didn't seem to budge. His pride had been hurt. She missed the simplicity and brainless obedience of droid commanders. "A good soldier follows his orders. You don't have all the information, but I do and I'm giving you the tactical order to retreat now!" she told him, losing what little patience she had left. "And that goes for the whole crew. Retreat is the order!"
"Roger, roger!" echoed a round of droids.
"Yes sir," Pompeii mumbled.
"Good," nodded Pallas. "They're all yours, commander." Then she ran off.
[][][]
The hanger was full of droids and they encircled her and Grievous from all sides, blasters pointing at her. They surrounded them and waited for their general's orders. "You want my lightsabres? Come and get them!" Ahsoka baited, focusing on the Force.
"Die Jedi scum!" he yelled out and slashed at her.
Now was the moment. She parried the blades and screamed out so that her voice rung through the hanger. "Execute order 99!" Grievous' eyes widened in confusion. "Execute General Grievous!"
She force-jumped away to land on one of the beams on the ceiling of the warship and watched from above as all the droids turned on their cyborg general. A sea of red blaster fire poured onto Grievous. The thousands of voices, repeating 'roger, roger!' over and over again were dulled by the sound of the blasters going off.
The cyborg deflected the firepower as best as he could. He reached for more lightsabres from his cloak, but there were too many droids. They overran him. A shot caught his wrist and dislodged a green lightsabre. He tried making a run, charging through the forces, and turning many of the droids into lightsabre fodder, but Ahsoka used the Force to lift him from the ground so that he would be an easy target for the machines. His armour was tough, but not impenetrable. The shell white turned into sooty black and broke off bit by bit until the sickly green pumping organs were exposed. It took one or two blasts to hit their putrid puss and incinerate them.
There, thought Ashoka, releasing a relieved breath. Grievous is dead. The war is almost over.
"Commander?" one of the droids looked up at her with a loyalty that made her skin crawl. "What are your orders?" he asked. She couldn't speak for a moment, until her commlink with Pallas' channel beeping brought Ahsoka out of her shock. "Units, self-destruct!" Ahsoka commanded the droids below.
It was the flexibility of the Dark Lord that had made him so unstoppable. Order 99 had been programmed into the battle droids on the Dark Lord's wish in the event that his preferred plans failed. It entailed the shooting of all Separatist leaders, but there was one onboard that Ahsoka didn't want dead.
Every single droid said 'roger-roger', gave her a Republic salute, took their blasters, and shot their own breastplates. The legion of droids collapsed, simultaneously. Despite having fought those tin cans for the past three years, Ahsoka felt something sad in watching them collapse so mindlessly at the orders of an enemy.
The moment the last droid fell to the ground, the elevator doors dinged open and Pallas walked into the hanger with CL-Y following her. The general made a beeline to the remains of Grievous. She leaned down to its level and examined the smoking guts to truly believe that he was dead.
"You've done it," Pallas whispered, joy flying into her face. "You did it!" he shouted out to Ahsoka, who had just jumped down from the ceiling.
Ahsoka looked at the half a dozen broken lightsabres scattered around the floor which Grievous had dropped or that had been blasted into bits. Trinkets and trophies of the vanquished, she thought disgustedly. So many Jedi that had fallen to Grievous. People that had suffered, whilst she had spent very little effort or her own suffering to end Grievous. "Yeah," she said, quietly.
"You're not feeling guilty, are you?" asked Pallas, turning to Ahsoka and seeing the facial expression of the Togruta. "Ahsoka, you've done what many could not!"
"I know. It's just… I wish it could have been done sooner," she said.
"Better late than never," said Pallas.
Just as the young general said that, The Solar Sailor flew in and landed into the hanger. Seeing Dooku's ship, Ahsoka quickly ignited her lightsabres and took a defensive stance in front of Pallas. The young general stared at the ship with fear. If her father stepped out of there, there would be no escape for her. There would only be death. A traitor's death.
The doors of The Solar Sailor opened and out stepped Count Dooku. His clothes were clean and finely pressed, the intricate cloak-strap of his cape bounced on his chest and his fingers were fastening a pair of black gloves. On his belt swung a curved lightsabre. He walked with an aristocratic elegance. He looked up. His face was solemn, stern.
"It looks like my worst fears have come true," he said, his voice deep and regal. Pallas hitched her breath. "I told you that I hated our plan."
Both young women exhaled a breath of relief. Pallas bent and leaned on her knees as if she had just run a long, endless marathon. Ahsoka put her lightsabres onto her belt and approached him cautiously.
It had taken only a few drops of blood, a sample of white hair and a good medical droid with a special syringe, which his sister had an ample supply of, but the face change was complete and his worst fears had come true. Ares had literally become his father. It had been a truly revolting procedure. He had been sick twice, when syringe pressed into his neck and when the spidery voice modulator went down his throat. He could still feel it, bobbing like an uncomfortable Adam's apple. The medical droid had prescribed drinking lots of water and discouraged consuming food for the next few hours. After the surgery, Ares had to go back to his father's closet and dress in the Serennian aristocratic robes, which had the smell of an old person. All in all, it was not a pleasant part of their plan.
"You look identical," said Ahsoka.
A smirk danced in the grey beard. "Fraternal, actually." That earned annoyed groans from both girls. "Oh, come on! I am entitled to make dad jokes now!" He approached Ahsoka for an embrace out of habit and found her backing away. "What?" he asked, confused.
"You're a 90 year old man right now," said Ahsoka, deadpanning. "Ares, I love you, but all I can see right now is Count Dooku. Unless you want another prosthetic, keep your father's disgusting hands off me." He gave her a look that was undeniably Ares' expression, but backed away.
Pallas saw that there was something troublesome in his eyes. "Is Father dead?" she asked, trying to gage what burdened him.
"Who's in command of the ship if you're here?" he dodged the question.
"Pompeii is on the bridge. I've given him orders to organise a retreat," said Pallas.
"Is that wise?" asked Ares.
Pallas ignored him. "Answer my question, damnit: is our father dead?"
He would not meet either of their gazes, his shame crawling all over him. "He's in the ship," said Ares, nodding into the cockpit. Pallas glared at him, grabbed Ahsoka by the shoulder and pulled her with her to The Solar Sailor. Ares followed behind them.
They stepped into the cockpit of the ship and Pallas' eyes fell onto the form of her father. He was so weak and fragile, lying on the floor of his own ship. She could smell the familiar putrid scent of burnt flesh and she saw the severed stumps on his arms. The brown eyes that had gazed upon her with disdain and disappointment so many times, were now full of anguish and dread. The strong proud warlord was now a weak, old man with no power.
"You spared him?" Ahsoka asked, shocked. Ares had yearned for nothing but patricide since she had met him. Now, when he had the chance, he chose restraint.
Ares looked down, shame in his face and didn't say anything. He had been so close, so very close of making his gravest of mistakes. The notion that he had even entertained the thought for more than a moment made his stomach roll. After all he… they… went through, he had thought of giving it all up, just for being called 'son'.
"Pallas…" Dooku whispered, reaching out with one of his useless stumps. He had been an old man when he had become a father, but he never looked as old as he did now. The wrinkles on his face were deep and the bags under his eyes betrayed exhaustion. All the hair on his head was pure white. He even smelt like an old man. Everything about him disgusted Pallas. "… I'm sorry… please," he pleaded.
A red shot fired from the depths of Pallas' coat and hit the old count squarely in the middle of his chest. Scorching with hate for her father, she said, "That's for Mina Bonterri."
Dooku's mouth quivered some last words, but they could not leave his throat. His body slumped on the floor and he died, silently.
Pallas' fingers shook. She had to throw away her blaster as if the instrument had melted to the base of her palm. Tears sprung from her eyes and she angrily tried to wipe them away.
"I married a man thrice my age. I ordered the death of a woman who was like a mother to me. I gave the boy I love unimaginable pain. I've been a warlord and a ruthless dictator over many people. I've done so many unforgivable things. All of this, I did because of this man and the choices he made. Every morning, for three years, no matter what part of the galaxy I was in, I would wake up on Serenno's dawn and holo-call him to see if some lucky, plucky Jedi had succeeded in killing him and every morning I was disappointed. I truly hate him," she spoke, her voice wet with her tears. "So, why, of all things, am I crying?!"
"Fathers are…" Ares said, gravely. "Complicated."
Just as he said it, the sound of an approaching ship whizzed inside the main hanger followed by a crash and the screech of metal. The three of them ran out and saw a red and a yellow Jedi starfighter crash in the hanger. The glass cockpits opened, and two familiar forms stepped out.
"No…" whispered Ahsoka, seeing who it was.
Skywalker and Kenobi had arrived to rescue the Chancellor.
"We need time," said Pallas. "Buy me time… or all of this would have been for nothing."
Ahsoka looked at Ares' eyes gravely, both knowing what they had to do.
"Go… We'll buy you time," Ares said softly. They both stepped forward with their lightsabre hilts in hand. Behind them, Pallas made a sprit for the corridors to the depths of the ship.
[][][]
Ares of Serenno, Ahsoka Tano and a whole platoon of clones had not returned from their rescue and capture mission. They were impossible to track and Pallas' position had moved. Though neither Kenobi nor Skywalker had fully believed it, it was presumed that they had all perished on their quest. The Council had forbidden Skywalker and Kenobi from tracking them. The liberation of the people of the Outer Rim was more important than 38 individuals, whatever relationship or attachment the generals had for them.
So, it had been more than a surprise to see Ahsoka Tano stand beside Count Dooku with General Pallas running off behind them.
For the longest time, Skywalker stared at his former apprentice, opening and closing his mouth. "Ahsoka? W-what are you doing here?" His voice croaked at the evident betrayal. "What are you doing with him?" he said, this time stronger, glaring at the old man.
Both old man and young girl looked at one another. Their throats were dry. "It's a long story, Skywalker," said Dooku's voice.
"Quiet, you," Skywalker snarled at the count, igniting his lightsabre.
Ahsoka's face was pained as she watched her old master. She knew he wouldn't understand. It had taken kidnapping her and forcing her to watch a traumatic simulation of her own execution to believe the truth. Her master loved the Chancellor like a mentor, a father-figure. He would never believe in Palpatine's wickedness. How she wished now that Anakin had come with Ares and the platoon. He would have believed the truth when forced with it. How would they even broach the subject of Ares' disguise?
"Anakin listen to me, I'm begging you," Ahsoka pleaded, though she already it was futile. "This isn't Count Dooku - it's a disguise. The Chancellor has deceived everyone. Palpatine has orchestrated this whole war. We've all been his pawns!" She must have sounded like a madwoman to the two Jedi.
Skywalker was stunned. "Why would you say that?"
"Because she's Dooku's new apprentice," said Obi-Wan with the coldest voice any of them had ever heard. During this exchange, he had found Grievous' remains. He must have concluded that Grievous had been the initiation kill. The Jedi Master ignited his own lightsabre. "I wondered if there was another reason Ahsoka could have left the order. It's all been a trap from the beginning."
"No, Obi-Wan—" Ares began, finally finding his lost voice, trying to dispel that misunderstanding, but the sound of lightsabres clashing stopped him.
Skywalker's eyes had a wrath that he had never seen before. He had charged at Ares like an ireful bull, but his blue lightsabre was stopped by Ahsoka's two green blades. She stood in front of her master, pushing him back.
Ares ignited his own sabre and the red clashed against Obi-Wan's charging strike. There was a need for blood in the Jedi Master's eyes and for the first time in that long day, Ares felt truly terrified.
[][][]
"How should we retreat, Commander?" asked the first mate of the ship.
Pompeii sighed. "Evacuate the rear ships first," he muttered, ruefully, and the droids obeyed him. The proud Zygerrian watched over the raging war zone with dissatisfaction. They had the advantageous position on the battlefield. They could score an incredible victory for the Confederacy. Whatever Pallas' plan for the Chancellor was, they would surely be much improved by more dead Republicans.
"Sir, the rear ships have been evacuated," said a pilot droid. "Should we jump to lightspeed?"
"Sir, they've stopped firing on our ship. It is likely due to us having the Chancellor onboard," said another droid. The temptation had been too sweet and too easy. The proud boy had no restraint when it came to blood and glory. He had been starved of those things for far too long.
"Move our ship to attack position!" Pompeii ordered instantly, without thinking.
"But the general said—" the droid protested.
"The general doesn't know everything!" Pompeii barked. "She didn't know that the Republic would stop firing on our ship and she didn't know we could have this opportunity. Now follow my orders, unit!"
"Roger, roger!"
Let me know everything you felt in this chapter – the ups and the downs. I got a lot of new readers writing reviews from last chapter – hopefully more of your let yourselves be known now.
Only two chapters left.