Chapter 22: Lir Sey'les

Coruscant

Standing in an LAAT hovering over a landing platform at the COMPOR Arcology Hospital, Sey'les and Itoll stood at Wulf's side. Jazal had permitted them to send him off before they were whisked away into Jedi custody.

"Wulf," Sey'les croaked, tears blurring her eyes as she held the unconscious Ardennian's hand. "I just… I hope you wake up."

"Me too," Itoll sighed, standing next to Sey'les

Laying in a stretcher with a transpirator on his face, Wulf laid perfectly still, aside from his chest pulses from breathing. Thick bandages covered the back of his head, with stitches visible in a few places towards the edges of the bandages. His head was unusually bald.

Jazal put a hand on both Itoll's and Sey'les's shoulders, standing watchfully behind them.

Sey'les could not help but think this was another attempt to get her to incriminate herself, but she spoke anyways, fur twirling unhappily. "I am sorry, Wulf. I mean… I got us into this mess. I really… Well I really should have told you earlier about it. About Buzz. I didn't know he was gonna…" Her statement paused with a teary sniffle. "And I shouldn't have let you take over. Tarkin was my responsibility. I just wish you would have listened to me and left Buzz alone."

"I'll tell Fojo's parents you could be there if you were able," Itoll stammered, placing a hand on Wulf's shoulder. "Assuming the Jedi let me go."

Feeling more pressure on her shoulder as Jazal squeezed a bit tighter, Sey'les snarled silently, flashing her teeth. Yeah, yeah. You're here Jazal. Want a kriffing trophy?

"Since we're here," Itoll growled hopefully, "could we visit Hashtivar?"

"I am sorry Itoll," Jazal replied in a saddened tone, "we won't have time for that."

"He's stable but it's a tad chilly out here," the Calibop doctor warbled, petting the end of her own beak as she looked down at the readout attached to the end of Wulf's stretcher. "I would like to get him inside the hospital, Master Jedi."

"Very well, Sey'les let go," Jazal urged gently.

Upon realising she was holding the railings to Wulf's stretcher, Sey'les took a deep breath as if about to plunge into water, then let go.

Two Clone troopers pushed Wulf's stretcher out and onto the landing pad. A second later, the LAAT took off, elevating slowly into the sky.

Sey'les fur twirled unhappily as she watched the platform grow smaller. As she watched Wulf rushed away through the morning chilly spring air, into the COMPOR hospital.

Itoll sighed as he turned around, seemingly unable to bear it. Then his ears perked up in confusion. "Wait Jazal… Where's Tarkin? Isn't he going into Jedi custody too?"

o.o.o.o.o

Mas Amedda

"I must admit..." Tarkin said gruffly, standing with a stiff formal posture before the Vice Chancellor's desk. No longer in an orange prison jumpsuit, the sharp-nosed human was back in his a grey-green Naval uniform— now without a rank pendant. "You have proven yourself to be a greater man than I am."

Mas Amedda had expected Tarkin to say literally anything else. So taken aback, the Chagrian let off a gasp of astonishment. "I did—I—What?"

"You put our past differences aside and got me out of… Shall we call it a sticky situation?"

"Oh!" Mas Amedda exclaimed. "Don't mention it," he muttered bitterly with a disingenuous smile.

The moment the Liberator had entered into orbit of Coruscant, Mas Amedda pardoned Tarkin of all charges—12 counts of involuntary manslaughter, 3 counts of murder, as well as a more serious charge of Crimes Against the Galaxy. The Chagrian had also pardoned Itoll Oc'skar and Lir Sey'les of both homicide and treason. The Navy had brought no charges against their Ardennian friend, Wulf, and Mas Amedda thought no more of the matter.

Within an hour of their pardons, the Republic Navy demoted all three of them to trooper, and discharged them under less than honourable conditions.

Unfortunately, much to the Chagrian's surprise, he was not actually able to pardon Itoll Oc'skar or Lir Sey'les of all charges. They were also charged with sedition against the Jedi Order and there was nothing he nor Sheev Palpatine could do about that. Not yet at least.

Mas Amedda cleared his throat. "I did not summon you here for this though, Tarkin."

"Oh?" Tarkin asked, tone sounding genuinely curious.

"No," Mas Amedda gestured to the holoprojector on his desk. "The Chancellor wishes to speak with you, Chancellor, are you ready?"

"Yes," Palpatine's voice came warmly from the projector.

At the push of a button, the Chancellor appeared on Mas Amedda's desk. Today, he wore a black cloak with a bright regal blue sash draped over his shoulders. The Chagrian recognised it as the ceremonial colours of Palpatine's noble house.

"Wilhuff Tarkin," Palpatine said with a sad tsk tsk tsk, "I am sorry to hear of Miralo's death."

Tarkin stood stiffly at attention. "Miralo died bravely in the line of duty."

"I wouldn't have expected any less of a Tarkin," Palpatine said consolingly. "You have my condolences. Now for the matter of your charges."

"The situation drifted beyond my control," Tarkin explained swiftly. "I was unable—"

"—Nonsense," Palpatine interrupted. "I do not believe one word of the charges."

Mas Amedda kept his discontent to himself as he looked to the back of the Supreme Chancellor's holopresence. One day, this Tarkin might get you killed—or embroiled in a scandal so great nothing can cover it up.

"I am sorry it has come to this, I really am," Palpatine explained. "In the heat of battle things can easily escalate quite out of control. Our passions are only… Well, I am sure you understand better than me."

Tarkin nodded politely, not saying a word.

Mas Amedda scrunched up his face slightly, fighting the urge to laugh. He killed over 4,000 civilians over a period of an hour, then got shot at by his own forces.

"Mas," Palpatine said warmly, "how have things been holding up in my absence?"

"Oh, just fine, Chancellor," Mas Amedda stammered, sitting up in his chair and wiping the smirk from his face. "Have the celebrations been as dull as you expected?"

"Even duller," Palpatine replied with an eerie grin. "Far less interesting than—Well, never mind. Wilhuff? Is there anything I can do for you in these trying times? I daresay, now would be the perfect time for you to enter my civilian Administration."

"You know Chancellor, there is," Tarkin said in a slow measured tone, like what he was about to ask for might sound completely insane. "Being promoted to Admiral, being in charge of a division…"

Mas Amedda shook his head, completely flustered. Is Tarkin asking for a promotion? After being demoted and dishonourably discharged! That human has no sense!

"...I would very much like to be a Captain."

"Captain?!" Palpatine hissed in shock, eyes opening wide in genuine worry. Mas Amedda had never heard him sound so surprised. "But Tarkin…"

"My apologies if what I ask for is impossible," Tarkin sighed, still caging his eyes forward.

"It is not," Palpatine cautiously replied. "I could grant you a direct commission. But after being elected a Governor, serving as an Admiral… Tarkin—This would be a demotion."

"Others may see it that way," Tarkin said evenly, not skipping a beat. "However, since the start of the war, I have been craving a more hands on job. Captain of a starship would do nicely."

"There are those in the Navy who… Who would be less than happy," Palpatine warned. "It may be perilous for you, were I to grant this."

"I always welcome a challenge," Tarkin smirked.

Mas Amedda put both hands on his head, massaging his Lethorns, completely unable to believe what he was hearing. This was all too bizarre. The Navy…

"Chancellor," Mas Amedda cut over their conversation, "the Navy is frustrated enough with me as it is, I would not be willing—"

"—I will grant Tarkin a field commission," Palpatine interjected.

"Thank you," Mas Amedda sighed in relief.

"And thank you," Tarkin said to the Chancellor, then to Mas Amedda, "I thank both of you."

"Don't mention it," Mas Amedda said again, this time more impatiently. "The Supreme Chancellor and I have some things to discuss…"

"Nonsense!" Palpatine chuckled. "I have not spoken to Tarkin in—"

"—It is regarding the Bothan matter," Mas Amedda said urgently.

"Ah. Very well," Palpatine sighed reluctantly. "Leave us for now, my friend Mas is quite right. This cannot wait."

"Have a good afternoon Chancellor, Vice Chancellor," Tarkin said with a quick bow, then walked out of the office. The automatic doors hissed shut.

"The Bothan matter?" Palpatine asked. "Mas, I am not at my retreat."

"Nothing of that nature," Mas Amedda said pointedly. That nature being essence transfer… "But it's regarding Lir Sey'les and Itoll Oc'skar. You were wanting to track their movements… To see where they ended up after we cut them loose?"

"Yes," Palpatine answered impatiently. "To see which Bothan handles them, then track that Bothan faction down."

Handle meaning kill of course. "Exactly," Mas Amedda nodded reassuringly. "I understand the plan fully. But the plan… It's hit a snag of sorts."

"What kind of snag?!" Palpatine hissed venomously. Dark shadows began creeping around the eyes of his holopresence.