Author's Note: 300 favourites/followers apiece?! Y'all really are the best! So to celebrate, here's another chapter! It's short but, let's face it, that last one was a monster.


-Chapter 43: Welcome to the Party-

Location: The Dominance

"The company you keep says more than words ever will."

Celanon had been retaken. The Separatists had won a great battle and the people who allied with them rejoiced, believing that the cause they'd signed up for was truly with them and willing to go the lengths to protect and fight for them.

But The Wraith was depressed.

Ever since that fateful vision, the super-soldier had never been the same. He'd done his best to push on, to try and bury himself in his job of death and destruction, but he still could not escape the agony of that moment. He tried to convince himself otherwise, but there was no denying the innate sense of truth he felt. He finally tried to forget about the whole affair, but there was no escaping the images that had been seared into his mind.

He told no one about his sorrow for fear of whatever investigation or inquisition his superiors might launch against him. He kept his thoughts to himself, doing his best to act normal in spite of his grief. But this was beginning to grow taxing. He had no time to himself in order to properly process his feelings, nor was there an able ear for him to lean on and vent to.

He felt cold... and alone.

At the moment he was off on assignment, waging war against the Republic as he was designed to do. He kept his feelings to himself, attempting to vent upon hapless Clones and any other unfortunate soul who dared cross him. But elsewhere, aboard the Dominance, Doctor Pomel Scipio sat by himself, scrolling through datapads as he continued to recover. He was certainly on the mend, improving each day, but was not quite fully healed. He therefore took things easy, only exerting himself when Wraith required more immediate attention.

But in the midst of his silent reading, a call came in that would signal the beginning of a change.

The nearby holotable chirped, indicating an incoming call. Scipio set down his reading and stood, shuffling over to the device to answer the call. A holographic render of Count Dooku sprung to life moments later.

"Doctor. How fare you?" He asked in greeting.

"Slow, my lord. But I'm getting better every day." The Pau'an courteously replied.

"And your creation?"

"Just fine, sir. After minor adjustments, he's performing at peak capacity once more." Scipio reported. "He is off on assignment right now, as per your directive." Dooku nodded in acknowledgment, pleased that Wraith's minor 'glitch' on Celanon had been apparently solved.

"That is good to hear. However, my call today does not concern him but, rather, someone else. In preparation for the future, I have scheduled a new Fleet Admiral to take up residence aboard the Dominance. I've called to inform you that they will be arriving very soon." He revealed. This was brand new information to Scipio, who took the revelation in stride.

"Then we shall await them with eager anticipation." He responded. "Erm... Might I inquire whom this admiral is?" He wondered.

"Someone well-suited for the task at hand. As for who exactly, I have forwarded you a personnel file that will give you the full details. I must go now, but please ensure Wraith is also informed of this." Dooku replied, indicating this was to be brief and not drawn out.

"It will be my topmost priority, my lord." Scipio answered with a bow. The communication coming to an end, Scipio immediately began to sort through the incoming files received by the holotable until he found the exact personnel report and pulled it up. Taking a seat, Scipio leaned back and started reading. "Let's see here... Fleet Admiral Sereva..."


Later that day...

Scipio stood tall with his hands folded in front of him, waiting patiently in one of the many hangars of the Dominance. Prior to his arrival down here, Wraith had reported in with success in his mission to aid advancing Separatist forces and was now returning to his base of operations.

But he would not be the only individual arriving.

With Dooku's transmission correlating with the suggested day of arrival, Scipio was also anticipating the arrival of the new fleet admiral. He knew who it was and what they had been doing during the Clone Wars, but had yet to see them or meet them in person. As he stood there, he was accompanied by a technician droid sporting blue markings.

"Uh, are you sure that the admiral is coming today?" It wondered out loud.

"But of course! Count Dooku said so himself." Scipio replied, fully believing in the Count's words.

"But... what if they don't show up?" The droid asked.

"Then at least I'll be here to welcome Wraith back from his mission." Scipio responded, knowing he at least had a second reason to be standing here.

"I don't know... shouldn't you call them and make sure they're coming?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"What if they were delayed?"

"Then I will find out eventually... now no more silly questions, you bucket of bolts!" Scipio finally silenced him. As he did, a Sheathipede-class shuttle, done up in Separatist markings, began approaching the hangar's entrance. "There, you see? What did I tell you?" Scipio remarked, pointing to the ship.

"Alright, alright. I'll go wave it in." The droid relented, sauntering off to help the shuttle land. Satisfied, Scipio straightened up with a little grinned and watched as the shuttle made a one-hundred and eighty degree turn, it's landing legs spreading and deploying as the ship touched down on the metal floor. Scipio took a few slow steps forward as the exit door slid open and the boarding ramp slid out, reaching down to the ground. The Pau'an waited and, shortly, a figure descended down the boarding ramp and out stepped a Twi'lek woman moments later, looking smartly dressed in a dark blue naval officer's uniform. But this was no ordinary Twi'lek, the red pigmentation of her skin denoting her a member of the somewhat rare Lethan Twi'leks. A true distinction if ever Scipio had seen one.

The Twi'lek's bright green eyes remained fixed ahead, a cool, all-business, professional look in her gaze as she surveyed the ship's hangar with quick, momentary glances. She was about the same height as Scipio and the shape of her body was virtually identical to other female Twi'leks; curvy and shapely, perfect and beautiful in ever sense of the word.

But this Twi'lek was elegant in another way. Her full-body uniform gave her a rather regal quality, a distinct and unique appearance by comparison to the rather revealing outfits other women of her species often wore. Twi'lek women were known the galaxy over for their natural beauty and their physical attributes males of every species found appealing. But this Lethan Twi'lek seemed the exact opposite, preferring to make a statement with who she was over how she looked.

And Doctor Scipio knew exactly who she was.

The Twi'lek came over to him, walking at a determined, military pace and Scipio gave a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"You must be Fleet Admiral Sereva Shak." He began. The Twi'lek nodded.

"I am. And you must be the other 'organic' Count Dooku told me about." She replied, not knowing his name. Scipio gave another nod.

"One of two, ma'am. I am the caretaker, equipper and chief medical specialist for Project Sunstorm. Or, as most know him, The Wraith. My name is Doctor Pomel Scipio." He responded.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Doctor." Sereva cordially greeted.

"Likewise. I understand you willing be setting up shop here on the Dominance."

"Yes. That is the plan."

"If I may, have you much experience in mass ship command?" Scipio inquired, wishing to know more about their esteemed guest.

"Enough to warrant me this position." Sereva replied with a vaguely sarcastic tone. "I graduated the Separatist Naval Academy, commanded several frigates and even a few small battlegroups." She explained. "But this is my first time commanding such impressive ships like this Subjugator. I have spent most of my time on destroyers and cruisers. My most recent engagement was the battle of Sullust, where I was in command of a Munificent-class ship."

"Ah yes, I heard about that one. I personally would've loved to have seen the Resolute go up in flames as it did." Scipio commented. While the Separatists had lost Asajj Ventress, the destruction of Anakin Skywalker's cruiser helped ease the pain of loss.

"It was a victory for us all in that sense." Sereva agreed before moving on. "I understand there is to be one more, shall we say 'passenger' aboard this ship?" She asked in a buisness-tone.

"Indeed. Which brings me to the reason for my being here. You see, he recently radioed me and informed me he was on his way back, hence my presence awaiting his return." Scipio informed her, explaining the other reason for his presence. As he did, the hum of engines from an arriving craft signalled the arrival of another individual. "Speaking of which... right on schedule." He mused, turning to face the arriving Aka'jor shuttle. The twin wings of the shuttle rotated up as the craft touched down and the engines powered down, the landing ramp extending out and allowing Wraith to disembark a few moments later. Both Sereva and Scipio could see that the tails of his jacket were covered in mud and his boots, up to the knees, were caked with dried mud as well. Brown splatters dotted his jacket, mixing with the dark red blood also adorning his armor.

"Next time, I'm taking a speeder to that mudball. I hate slogging around in the dirt like that." He remarked aloud as he approached the two of them.

"Well that answers one of my questions." Scipio mused, about to ask how things had gone. He gestured to the Twi'lek next. "Wraith, this is-"

"Admiral Shak." Wraith observed in greeting. Scipio was taken aback but it was Sereva who spoke next.

"You know me, soldier?" She wondered.

"I've read your file. The tactics you employed during the battles of Excarga and Thustra were quite impressive." Wraith replied, folding his arms behind him. Scipio arched his brow.

"You've been doing some research without me, my boy?" He asked.

"Excarga was my first engagement and a fairly famous battle." Sereva clarified. "Back then I was a mere junior officer serving aboard a frigate. The bridge was destroyed during the fight and I was the sole commanding officer to survive. I took control and kept the ship in the fight for as long as I could." She told him.

"Thustra was when you started to flex your stuff." Wraith added. Sereva mulled that statement over, having never been referred to with such terms.

"If you wish to put it that way. Thustra was my first opportunity to command a ship. We were losing pretty bad, but after we started to outsmart the Republic the battle turned in our favor." She replied.

"We gave the Sephi what they wanted and the Republic a black eye in the process." Wraith said, crossing his arms. The Twi'lek cocked her head.

"Were you involved at all, soldier?" She asked.

"Only in the aftermath. I helped secure Sephi territory and eliminate Republic holdouts." The super-soldier explained.

"So, Admiral, what exactly brings you here to the Dominance?" Scipio inquired, Dooku having neglected to give him any specific details, only telling him who and when she was coming.

"Count Dooku has picked me to oversee these Subjugator warships and the fleet they comprise. Says they're going to be part of a major engagement and he wants me in charge of the naval component." Sereva replied, straightening up and looking as professional as she possibly could. But as she did, her green eyes started roaming up and down Wraith's body, analyzing his tall, broad and intimidating appearance. She, like many, had heard about the famed super-soldier and his exploits, but only now was getting to meet him in person.

She could see the stories about him were true. And she was starting to wonder what else about him was true. Sereva got the feeling the two of them would be spending a lot of time together... not like that was a bad thing. A legendary assault trooper and an experienced fleet admiral working side by side would make for quite the combination.

It was something she was privately, looking, forward to.

"The Dominance has been selected to be the flagship of this new fleet, hence the reason for my coming here. My understanding is that this ship also serves as your base of operations." She said, addressing Wraith.

"Indeed. Count Dooku has had an entire floor sectioned off and dedicated to I and The Wraith." Scipio responded, quite proud of the fact.

"Well, just so we're clear, this is still a Separatist naval vessel."

"And I am a valuable member of the Separatist military. Together, we both serve the CIS." Wraith interjected. "You needn't worry about a thing, Admiral. I'm sure we'll get along just fine." He reassured her. Sereva nodded. Such open intentions were good to hear, but only time would tell as they adjusted to working alongside one another. "If you'll pardon me, I must wind down after that taxing engagement." Wraith stated, excusing himself. Without another word, he turned to go, walking through the hangar as Scipio and the Admiral watched him go, the metallic clanking of his metal boots on the floor echoing loudly.

"I must say, his first impressions are best made with his figure." Sereva commented.

"Wraith has always been a 'to the point' person. For the first few months or so of his work he never said a word." Scipio agreed. "His presence has been refined to a point where his very arrival speaks volumes. I've witnessed the toughest of men begin to tremble just becuase they've laid eyes on him."

"I've heard the stories..."

"Rest assured, my dear Admiral, they are all true." Scipio told her. "But between you and me, he has seemed just a tiny bit off ever since he returned from Celanon." He added in a low voice. Sereva turned to him with a rather surprised look in her eyes.

"Celanon? From my understanding that was quite the fight." Scipio nodded.

"So it was. Wraith returned bearing several scars from that day." He said, having no idea his creation was also bearing several mental and emotional ones as well. "I suppose he'll get over it. He'll have to, really. The fires of war continue to burn and we need him to keep pouring on fuel. That is his job after all."

"A man purely bred for war." Sereva quietly mused, dwelling on the very concept of The Wraith. "Almost like a Clone."

"But he's so much more than a Clone, for he can do something Clones cannot," Scipio remarked, turning to her with a smile, "win."


Elsewhere...

Within the dimly lit office of the Supreme Chancellor, illuminated only by the setting sun, Chancellor Palpatine sat in meeting with another individual, flanked by Chairman Mas Amedda. A rough-looking human, with brawny shoulders, dark skin, thick muttonchops on his cheeks and scars all over his exposed arms and upper chest. He wore a leather vest, one sporting a few metal insignias, symbolic trophies from his past. He sat relaxed, legs crossed, arms splayed out across the back of the chair and the glowing end of a cigarette in his mouth, acting like he cared little for the fact he was in the presence of the Supreme Chancellor.

"We've come to the conclusion that the Clone Army is best-suited for conventional enemies. And our current problem is one that is most... unconventional to say the least." Palpatine was saying.

"So that's why ya called me." The human replied in a thick accent, taking his cigarette between two fingers.

"Your organization has a history of getting the job done." The Chancellor continued, indicating his knowledge of who this man was and who he worked for.

"For the right price." The man interjected.

"Of course." Palaptine added.

"True enough though. My men an' I can make any army look like a bunch of stick-throwin' natives." The human continued, examining his dwindling cigarette as he stated this fact.

"I must warn you again, this is a most unconventional foe you will be up against." Palpatine cautioned him.

"Which is why ya sprung for an unconventional outfit like mine." The human mused with a grin, leaning forward to reveal his rugged and weathered features, including the massive scar that cut across his forehead, through his right eye and down his cheek. "Any mate in white armor knows better than ta tangle with tha likes of us." He scoffed, a deep, throaty chuckling following his words. "Ya want the job done? Well," he jabbed his thumb in his direction, "ya've come to the right people. But I'm warning ya, we don't come cheap." He added. Palaptine nodded in understanding, agreeing to his terms. The human leaned back, cigarette returning to his mouth. "So... o's the target?" He wondered. Palpatine slid a datapad across his desk and over to him, which the man promptly leaned forward and retrieved. Flipping it over and getting a good look at the being in question, the man arched an eyebrow and looked back to Palpatine. "Like I said; we delivah. But this one's gonna cost ya extra." He added, tossing the datapad back onto Palpatine's desk, revealing the image of The Wraith.

"It's good to know that you have such confidence in your people." The Chancellor commented.

"My people are the best at what they do... and what they do most others can't stomach." The human replied. He then asked, "Do we have a deal?" After a moment of consideration, Palpatine resumed his stoic posture and slowly nodded.

"Very well. Name your price." He responded. The man gave a broad, toothy grin and removed his cigarette once more.

"Double my usual rate. Half up front." He answered. "I'm gonna need some specialists for this one." He explained, knowing what was to come. "Some of my men are gonna need to be coerced into this one. But some, well... they'd do it for free."

"Consider it done." Palpatine agreed. "Your payment shall be received upon confirmation of completion."

"Can I get that in writing?" The human wondered. Palpatine slid another datapad over to him, this one a signed and sealed deal of agreement, confirmation of payment included. Satisfied, the human stood and took a long drag from his cigarette. "Pleasah doing business with ya Chancellor." He stated as he took his leave, turning on heel and leaving Palpatine's office. As he did, Amedda leaned over to Palpatine.

"Chancellor... are you sure this is a wise move?" He inquired.

"The Wraith is proving to be a very difficult end that needs to be dealt with." Palaptine responded.

"Do you really think that they can handle him?"

"No. But if they do, it will give the Clones the victory they need to get back on their feet." He bluntly stated. "If they do not, then they will simply buy us time to make it look like the Republic is winning the war again." He added, then looked up at his aid. "Trust me, Chairman Amedda. This is for the good of the... Republic."


Back on the Dominance...

Alone in his quarters, Wraith sat on his bed devoid of his jacket, boots, guns and armor, wearing a simple shirt and pants... as well as his helmet. His headgear sometimes fit so well and so comfortable that he forgot to take it off. He did spend a lot of time in it, so much so he often thought of it as his true face.

It was what everyone equated him with.

As he sat there, alone and attempting to purge any negative thoughts from his mind, Voice began speaking

So... this new admiral... He began.

"What of her?" Wraith curtly replied, used to the sudden appearances this voice made but still despising it altogether.

I don't know. She seems... interesting. Voice continued.

"Just what are you insinuating, Voice? That I should so swiftly find a... a replacement?!" Wraith suddenly snapped.

No! No, I just... want to try and figure her out. Voice quickly explained.

"Hmph."

Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I miss her too. She was... nice. Voice apologized.

"Do not speak of her in the past tense." Wraith rumbled, closing his eyes as his thoughts turned dark.

Why? Wraith said nothing. You're hurting, aren't you? That's why you don't say her name anymore, isn't it? Voice inquired, probing for an answer.

"Yes." Wraith quietly replied. "I'd rather deem all of this a nightmare, and that I just haven't seen her in a while."

Sure... but what if it's all true? What if Ahsoka is gone?

"Do. Not. Speak her name in that context." Wraith growled. Standing up and giving his head a shake, Wraith walked over to his desk and picked up another full bottle of Corellian Brandy. Popping the top he took a long swig, the liquor burning down his throat. It was a good kind of burn. The kind of burn that reminded him he was alive.

You... You wouldn't happen to be obsessed over her... would you? Voice wondered.

"You mistake my desire for obsession." Wraith said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "I... like her." He admitted.

Why do I get the feeling that's not the word you wanted to use...? Voice mused. I know it's not the word I would use. Wraith grunted in response and sat back down on his bed. The conversation seemed to end and he was back to sitting alone, brandy in hand, trying to remove the overwhelming sorrow from his head. He took another long swig from the bottle before setting it down on a nearby nightstand, sighing as he did. He rubbed his jaw, mulling over the constant thoughts that he wished not to dwell on, but they gave him no choice as they persisted.

What was he to do now? He felt like so much of his existence was defined by his desire for her. But what would he do now, now that she was gone? He didn't know. He didn't want to know. He'd heard stories about people who moved on, who told others to move on. But he didn't want to move on.

It was then that a strange sensation overtook his mind and Wraith suddenly felt as though he were not alone, like another presence had suddenly joined him. His sixth sense suddenly kicked in, one honed to perfection over countless hours of infiltration training, telling him that another physical body was near his immediate location.

He looked up... and there she was.

Plain as day, looking healthy, normal and alive, she sat by herself on a bed that was no doubt her own. It was like a portal opened up that crossed the distance between space and time in order to bring her to him. Wraith stared in shock, his mouth open as he blinked multiple times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Giving his head a shake, finally confirming he was not hallucinating or dreaming, Wraith slowly got to his feet, keeping his gaze fixed on the sight before him. He didn't know what to say or what to do, so he went with the first instinctive thought that came to his mind.

"Ahsoka?" He wondered aloud.


Author's Note: Stay tuned for more! What's next you ask? Here's a hint: Season 3, Episodes 18-20...