Nothing.
The word played over and over again in her head as she stared down the three Jedi on the monitors before her. The rest of the room was dark aside from the flickering of lights from tiny dials. The other source of illumination from the screen in front of her blasted sterile light into her retinas. Her fist was glued to the side of the intercom button, reluctant to press it again for fear that the word would scream at her.
Nothing.
Throughout the entire time of their stay at the Separatist facility, Vance had learned nothing from the Jedi or their clones. The psychological evaluation she'd made when the Jedi had reunited indicated that separating them was the best situation to produce the results that they needed. The two oldest Jedi on the left and centre screens had been subject to the usual order of interrogation: reduced rations, sustained questioning and of course the intervallic shock treatment to keep them awake. Meanwhile, the clones were being kept in small groups as they attempted to identify which troopers could've been old enough to have partaken in the Republic's Citadel Mission. The last monitor to her right held the image of two Togrutan silhouettes. The shapes alone made her chest ache as she remembered the Togrutan villagers, regrets clawing at her mind for letting the notoriously reckless Cyborg carry out her plan for capturing the Jedi. The low hushed tones from the screen brought her back to the present, mildly surprised at the quiet turn that the conversation was taking.
She'd sent Haki to the Padawan's cell more out of curiosity than caution. He'd spent more time with her than Vance had on the planet and she was certain that there was at least a 70% chance of the conversation turning into a screaming match. Regardless of that statistic, without the aid of more agressive methods of questioning, Haki stood the best chance to get any kind of rise out of her. But from the intel that their Separatist spies had gathered, there was no Ahsoka Tano registered for the Citadel mission and thus, no reason to assume she knew too much about it. Upon witnessing her Master's unusually protective nature, the information had made more sense. He was one exception among many she'd come across from the Jedi order who'd bent the rules of "non-attachment". She suspected that with a deeper analysis of his fragile temper and closed off psyche, that at some point he'd had to let go the hard way and that he wasn't eager to let it happen again.
A beleaugered sigh escaped her.
No matter what those old kooks in the Jedi order claimed, no living being was above pain, let alone fear. She'd had to drill that lesson into Haki far too many times to quell his anxieties about his Jedi hangups.
When she found him on Shilli's moon, Numia, he was only 16 years old, unconscious and surrounded by a ring of ashes. A knock to the head had left him with irreversible coordination issues but worse still was that in the early days of their friendship, he couldn't stop apologising for everything. In his mind, he was only ever "letting her down" any time he couldn't bring himself to fly the ship or even light a fire. Anytime he did, she'd see flashes of terror as his memories took him back to the moment his Master had abandoned him. She would watch as he shoved his fears further down his throat, the guilt for even voicing them almost too much for him to bare. The fact that he'd been taught to do such a thing sickened her. She clenched her fists tighter, her lips holding back the curses she wanted so desperately to sling at the pompous Jedi knights for the cruelty of the Order they upheld. But another voice soothed her frustrations and she relaxed as she pictured the speaker's face.
The man had pale skin and jet black hair. Wrinkles formed at the edge of his eyes, having deepened from the stress of raising a teenager. A stress that over the last 5 years, she'd started to understand better with rehabilitating Haki.
"We use droids instead of living beings. We ask for independence and accountability from our government. We hold ourselves to a higher standard, Phoenix 3. The best way to learn anything from the enemy, is to convince them that we aren't the enemy. Or at least that they should reconsider who is."
Vance loosened her shoulders, letting the memory sink into her muscles. A new spark of energy was rekindled inside of her as she moved to open up the intercom channel.
"Alright Phoenix 1," she muttered to herself. "We're setting a higher standard - we are not the enemy…"
She pressed the button linking her to Master Obi Wan Kenobi's cell. The bearded ginger seemed like the better option to tackle than the other Jedi Knight. That and the fact that being in the same room as "The Hero With No Fear" kicked her molecules into a frenzied state of fight or flight. He'd wasted no time in sensing her deception as soon as Haki had left her side and she didn't need the force to know that he was out for blood. The memory of the blue lightsaber careening towards her neck still made her involuntarily shiver. No, interrogating the older Jedi was the safest bet in every regard.
"Master Kenobi? Has your memory cleared up since our last chat?"
The Jedi Master went to laugh but the attempt merely resulted in a dry cough.
"Unfortunately, I can't say that it has," he replied, his voice far more tender than it was two rotations prior. "I don't suppose you've reconsidered lending my friends and I an escape pod?"
Vance held herself back from a retort, caught halfway between aggression and genuine laughter. Instead, she got up from her seat and exited the darkened room, walking down the steely grey corridors until she found the cell she was looking for, flanked by two commando droids. To the left of the metal door was a number pad, and after a quick update, she plugged in the randomised code. The metal sheet slid up with a scraping clang and she waltzed down the steps to see the surprised, sweaty face of "The Great Negotiator", strung up in the centre of the room and lit by dim red light.
"I see that my skills of persuasion are still up to par," he huffed, the lightness of his remark offset by the darkened cell. "See to it that my companions are released and we shall be on our way."
She folded her arms, tilting her head in thought. When faced with Haki, the man would refrain from speaking at all. His little stunt the first time around had tipped off the Jedi that speaking in his best interests around the boy. And from what Vance knew of Jedi psychology, Kenobi would be diverting all his concentration to reinforcing his mental shields around Haki. In her presence however, he seemed to let loose. Good, she thought.
"If you give us the information we're asking for, we'll happily oblige your request," she said, matching his pace and tone with ease.
He sighed, shaking his head as he let his wrists carry his weight. As soon as he moved, the commando droid behind him stabbed an electric tip into his back and he cried out with the shock. Vance shouted at the droid, seizing it's attention and promptly directing it out of the room. The downside of having an army of droids programmed for violence was that they rarely saw the tactical benefits of compassion.
"Ah yes - " he groaned, eyeing the droid as it exited the cell. "You'll happily dispose of us once you have what you need."
Vance allowed herself to chuckle this time.
"You've certainly made up your mind about us, haven't you Master Kenobi?" She said, avoiding direct eye contact to reduce confrontational body language.
She could feel him size her up, catching his mild frown through the loosened strands of her frizzy grey hair.
"After what little I saw of that village and after the horrors I've witnessed during this war, yes. I certainly have."
The silence was pulled taut as the two probed each other for any sign of continuing. Vance adjusted her approach accordingly; her regrets about the way things had turned out for Shilli's innocents, the doubts she had in her leaders ethics - all of it would need to come to light if this conversation were to go anywhere meaningful.
"It was my plan to lead the Padawan back to the village," she confessed quietly. The older Jedi remained still but his silence indicated that she had caught him off guard. "General Grievous followed through with it, but not in the way I had intended."
She finally looked up again, forcing the prolonged eye contact so he could fully sense her sincerity. He wouldn't be allowed to distance himself behind dry remarks and dark humour anymore. She would see to it.
"I underestimated his ruthlessness and I regret those decisions far more than you're willing to give me credit for. But I won't deny that that village burned because of my mistakes."
To his credit, the Jedi Master held her gaze for as long as he could before the strain of his neck became too great for his fatigue to handle. As his body sunk back into it's restraints, he released a held breath.
"Why are you here, Vance?" He asked pointedly.
To any outsider, the question would've seemed abrupt and off topic. But Vance knew this behaviour all too well. When prisoners had their beliefs about her challenged, the first thing they searched for was any indication that she was some kind of outlier to their world view. That this kind of behaviour must be abnormal.
"For very different reasons than you are, Master Jedi. I believe in the Seperatist's cause to fight for our independence from the Republic, " she replied, " - and that we can help lead the way for holding our leaders to a higher standard of accountability. I'm here specifically because I happen to have the skills necessary for covert operations; I understand combat and I understand people."
"And these leaders that you hold to account… are they the same ones who you admitted, ruthlessly attacked a village of innocents," he countered, the exchange using more energy to sustain than he had obviously compensated for.
She shook her head.
"It's not a perfect system and until this war is over, it probably never will be," she relented. "But that shouldn't stop my government from striving to be better. Haki informed you of our interrogation clauses prohibiting acts of violence against minors in Separatist custody. Yes?"
The man readjusted himself, looking at the ground skeptically.
"Yes, I must admit, that did come as a surprise," he said. "But that doesn't excuse - "
"It's surprising to you because your Republic doesn't have to account for commanding officers, prisoners of war, being children," she snapped, feeling the agitation from earlier returning. "Unlike you, I've seen far too many younglings pass through these corridors and with each year they only get younger and younger."
She turned away from him, the feelings emerging a little too raw for her to handle in a controlled manner. The next sentence left without her consent.
"I dread the day I see them leave this place, only to be sent straight back to the battlefield to die," she said her voice hushed and tense. "And those are just the Jedi - we both know too many beings that have suffered because of this war."
The image of Phoenix 1's face resurfaced, pale and handsome. She watched a memory replay of the day he'd said goodbye to his family. His wife and teenage son - his honorary "2nd in command" as they'd used to joke- both waving at them from the Raxus platform, dressed immaculately for the occasion; the day he'd been dispatched to the Aargonar outpost.
The Jedi interrupted her reminiscing.
"As you say, it's... regretful that we have to take such measures. But by continuing to fight this war, you leave us with little choice."
"But don't you see what this is? Now you do have a choice!" She insisted, walking closer so he had no other option than to stare her down. "You can choose to end it, right here."
His brief confusion slowly morphed into a dawning sense of the point she was making once more.
"One life. That's all. We just need the Chancellor to legitimise our senate and then all of this suffering can finally be over," Vance said, cinching the moral trap around the Jedi Master.
"As Jedi, how we choose to conduct ourselves is just as important as the outcome..." he replied but the edge to his conviction was blunt. His eyes fluttered in thought and narrowed. She was close, he just needed one more push.
"Master Obi Wan Kenobi; you and I both know that the lives of many beings far outweighs that of just one. Isn't that more true to the Jedi way? Why insist on this pretence of serving the Republic when you know that fewer lives will be at stake if you just hand over the intel and let us finish this war. What difference does it make who wins if the fighting will stop?"
Obi Wan Kenobi remained silent, his lips tightening as if she had suddenly turned into Haki.
"Who has the intel?" She pushed again.
Nothing.
"Tell me who has the nexus route coordinates." More urgently this time.
Nothing.
"WHO?" she spat in his face, her patience cracking like a porcelain mask.
And still, the Jedi said nothing. His brow was a firm line, his head steady at her eye level. Her breath came out in shallow huffs, exhausted from the emotional battle she had just wrought. Metal footsteps echoed behind her as a monotoned voice relayed information. The importance of it could've been minor or catastrophic and it would've sounded the same.
"The clones have been successfully identified, mam. Of the total squadron, seven would have been present for the Citadel Mission."
She closed her eyes, straightening her posture and slicking back loose baby hairs to feign some semblance of composure.
"We hold ourselves to a higher standard. We are not the enemy…"
The words now rang empty in her head. The Jedi didn't care about any of it. They were too far gone to be reasoned with, too arrogant to be swayed…
"Of the clones not present for the mission… which of them is the oldest?" She inquired softly.
"CT - 3387, Mam."
She nodded, feeling her chest begin to ache with shame and regret. No, she thought, crushing the feeling where it started. They brought this on themselves.
"Bring him in…" she ordered, leaving the cell and the Jedi inside it a darker place than when she had entered.
