Chapter 34: Asir Kroy'lya

Aboard the Fensk

Asir sighed in relief, answering the subspace radio. She had been waiting for Ras to respond—to tell her the news on Sey'les. "Asir here."

Ras Andromias's voice came through with a hint of regret and sorrow. "Asir, I spoke with Garmr."

Asir gulped, staring through the cockpit window into the swirl of hyperspace. She knew whatever Ras was going to tell her was not good news. "And?"

"We are going forward with the execution. Our friend on Leritor is convinced it is for the greater good."

"Master, The greater good?" Asir shook her head. "I don't understand how killing Sey'les could possibly serve any sort of greater good. This is more pointless than the murders of the Tarkin family. It's just… Senseless."

"Those were targeted killings Asir, not murder. You are speaking as if the Spynet had you kill those Tarkins for revenge."

But weren't those killings for revenge? A tear ran down from her right eye, sopping her fur. I made Arakh kill those people.

"Besides," Ras's voice spoke suddenly after a long silence. "Sey'les's death will serve a purpose. She's also not dying—at least, not in a manner of speaking…"

Asir gasped in horror. "What do you mean? What are we doing to Sey'les?!"

Ras Andromias replied with a question. "Is Captain Fen Kardon there?"

o.o.o.o.o

Lir Sey'les

Sey'les awoke in a disoriented state. Lying on a blue and white synth fiber mat, her ribs ached. Her gut felt tight, and she was—

"—What the kriff," she snarled, leaping to her feet. She was wearing a green jumpsuit she did not remember putting on herself. More bafflingly, the fur on her hands and bare feet seemed to be dyed white. What the hell is going on? What the—With a gasp, she frantically unzipped the top of the jumpsuit. All of her fur seemed to be painted, mostly white. A line of fur dyed red ran down her cleavage.

The mat, she realised, was not actually blue and white but a blue mat caked in white fur dye. Her snout hung open in shock as she got her bearings.

The room seemed to be a cargo hold of some sort, converted to hold prisoners. It had plain durasteel walls and bars divided her half of the hold from the section with an exit. On the left wall was a metal reflective steel mirror, like the ones in public refreshers.

She gasped at her reflection. Unable to believe her own eyes, she reached her hands up to the top of her head, where a thick bushy grey and black mane used to be. It had been shaved off. More bafflingly, her face was dyed with all sorts of intricate black and red symbols. They looked like letters, but were not a script Sey'les recognised.

"Oh uh," a voice growled from beyond her cell bars, "the prisoner is awake."

A sense of danger began washing over Sey'les again. Her surprise quickly abated, replaced by fear and dread. They are going to kill me.

A Bothan entered the room wearing a similarly-coloured jumpsuit. With brown and cream-coloured fur, she was a few centimeters taller than Sey'les. "I am Major Asir Kroy'lya."

Not feeling reassured, Sey'les looked into Amir's soft violet eyes, sniffing the air.

"There is not much time," Asir growled urgently. "I tried to ask for clemency but… Well Master Ras Andromias says this is for the best."

Sey'les was not the least bit curious as to who Ras Andromias was.

"You are going to be overwritten," Asir explained, fur twirling unhappily. Her eyes watered slightly. "I am told it will be painful, but quick. Then you will be one with the Force. They—You've done a lot of things, exposed Spynet assets, interfered with our objectives. Normally we don't deal with this sort of thing, but..."

Sey'les suddenly felt like her ears were filled with water. Asir's snout was opening and closing, but she could only hear a distant mumble. She looked straight ahead, beginning to take shallow panicky breaths. Overwritten… Some Spynet asshole is going to kill me and steal my identity to impersonate me like a Clone. They—no… They're changing my identity. She looked down at her now white hands in understanding.

Asir reached towards the locking mechanism, and began entering in a passcode.

A dark brown furred near-Bothan with lanky arms and a short snout, entered the room behind Asir. Sey'les could see his snout open, but could hear only distant muffled mumbles. Asir turned to face him, fur bristling. They mumbled at each other incomprehensibly.

Sey'les gulped as the cell door slid open. Her danger sense still blared, a constant message of impending doom.

Asir extended a hand.

Sey'les froze for a moment, staring at the two figures beyond the cell.

o.o.o.o.o

As Asir led Sey'les through the ship, Sey'les continued breathing rapidly. More than anything else, she wanted to take action, but there was nothing for her to do.

Nothing for me to do, Sey'les thought, sighing as she was brought into the mess hall.

Three Bothans were sitting at the round dining table. One, was thin and conventionally attractive, but her fur was a mix of a clown-like orange and faded brown—appearing as if she had recently been dyed herself. Another was mostly black with a few wispy white streaks in his fur. He was sitting straight with a posture that struck Sey'les as well-mannered. The final occupant of the table was blonde furred with brown eyes and a short snout.

The three Bothans looked up and began opening their snouts, saying something Sey'les could not hear.

The orange furred and black furred Bothans were completely terrified. Their fur fell flat as they stepped in front of the table.

They're more scared of you than you are of them. Sey'les's fur relaxed. The watery sensation in her ears went away. Her hearing came back.

"GET HER BACK IN LOCKUP!" the orange one yelped.

"ASIR! OH ASIR!" the other growled pleadingly, jogging in place as he danced in complete and utter terror.

"Calm down," the blonde furred one snorted, remaining seated. "I worked with Sey'les for months. She's harmless." He spoke Basic in a familiar Clone accent. His voice was not human, but his intonation and the way he carried himself dredged up memories.

"Buzz," Sey'les sighed, realisation dawning on her. The vivid memory of Fen shooting Miralo flashed through her mind, followed by a sensation of déjà vu. She knew Fen would shoot Wulf, but there was nothing she could do. Wulf won't listen. He's so angry… He's going to—

"—Fen's my real name," he shrugged, then sipped a glass of water. "These two clowns are Korsk and Linay. Linay impersonated someone to get you. Korsk is here, against orders, for no reason."

Sey'les snapped out of it. The room came back into focus.

Korsk, the black furred one, glowered at Fen. He opened his snout to say something, but Fen interrupted.

"For what it's worth, I think killing you is kriffed."

Sey'les blinked. She would not have expected Buzz—no Fen, would say that. Had previously argued for her execution after the Battle of Bothawui. She looked around the room, studying everyone. Her sense of dread was still every bit as alarming as it had been, but it was no longer startling. After minutes on end of nothing but nonstop JUMP, DUCK, RUN, YELP, the terrifying sensation of death just around the corner blended into meaningless static. The sensation felt extremely uncomfortable but able to be ignored.

"We should just shoot her up with somaprin," Linay growled. "Knock her out. That way she doesn't feel it."

"Linay," Korsk replied, rubbing his head. "Our friend on Leritor wants her body to be perfectly clear. He doesn't want to wake up groggy."

Fen locked his jaw, pointing at Sey'les. "Well, I say kriff what he wants. He has us wake up blind in bodies that have been frozen in carbonite. Then he expects us to dress her up, paint her white, and keep her nice and warm for him!"

"If we disobey our friend on Leritor, he might kill our entire families!" Korsk yelped. "He's already killed—"

"—I want to be awake," Sey'les interrupted with a firm growl. She had no idea what they were talking about but knew she did not want her last memories to be learning who Fen was. There were still a few more mysteries to get to the bottom of.

Everyone in the room turned to her in surprise. Asir put her hand on Sey'les's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

o.o.o.o.o

Ursi Ek'fon

Leritor

"Are we receiving the broadcast yet?" Garmr asked.

"We will soon, my Lord," a technician answered, looking into a green terminal screen. "The Fensk just exited hyperspace. They are moving into orbit."

"Excellent," Garmr snarled excitedly.

In the spacious Rakatan essence transfer room—the original essence transfer room Ursi presumed, dozens of Kaminoan and Bothan technicians moved about busily. Garmr was seated in a consciousness casting chair. His hood was down and his head was completely covered in electrodes.

On the back of the room, a crowd of a dozen Sauvax stood by, forming an audience. Ursi and Vasa sat in the frontmost row, along with twenty or thirty Bothans and Kaminoans—including one very important Kaminoan, Senator Halle Burtoni.

"Isn't this exciting?" Burtoni asked in an unexcited voice.

Ursi and Vasa exchanged incredulous looks.

"This is the first essence transfer I have witnessed," the Kaminoan explained.

"I see," Vasa answered. "Well, in that case—"

"—We are getting a transmission sir!"

"Put it on screen," Garmr ordered, panting with breathless excitement.

Images of an exhausted Lir Sey'les were projected onto every screen in the rooms. One large screen was positioned on the ceiling in front of Garmr, visible toh him. Another large screen was on the wall behind him, visible to the audience.

Lir Sey'les was now dyed in the likeness of Garmr with the same white fur and Rakatan symbols. The fur under her eyes was crusted from dried tears and she wore a green jump—

"—WHAT?!" Garmr snarled. "Why is she dressed in that?"

In spite of herself, Ursi jumped in her seat, startled at Garmr's sudden outburst.

A black furred Bothan, whom she recognised as Korsk, stepped forward nervously. He stood next to Sey'les's side on the screen. "My Lord," he growled, fur flat in fear, "how do you want her to be dressed?"

"IN JEDI ROBES!" Garmr yelped, biting the air furiously with each word.

"Very well sir," Korsk stammered.

On-screen Linay and Korsk approached Sey'les. Together they removed the electrodes from Sey'les's head, before helping her up and escorting her out of sight.

Jedi Robes… Of course. Garmr wants everyone to think he is so powerful he slew a Jedi.

"My Lord?" Vasa asked, standing up.

"I am a little busy," Garmr snorted. "What is it, Vasa?"

Vasa had obviously reached the same realisation as Ursi. "My Lord, don't we all know Sey'les is a… Well not a Jedi Knight?"

"Yes," Garmr spoke dismissivley, looking up at the now empty scene being broadcast from the Fensk. "We know it. The rest of the Spynet doesn't."

"Can't anyone with a security clearance just look up who Sey'les is?" Vasa inquired further.

"Good point," Garmr muttered deep in thought. "Very good point. We'll have to restrict those records even further. Simple. Only Director-level and above will know Sey'les was not a Jedi. There will be rumours no doubt, but who will believe those?"

o.o.o.o.o

Gavin Azi'skar

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

Much to Azi'skar's chagrin, the very first thing Itoll did upon being dropped off on Thellus was call his Senator. After telling Shidar all about consciousness transfer and the threat the Spynet posed to Lir Sey'les, the heterocromatic interloper took the maglev to Grav'shtarn and knocked on his front door.

Azi'skar had every intention of meeting with Itoll. Just not today.

Having stepped out of his office, however, with disturbing events quickly proceeding on the Spynet end of things, Azi'skar knew it would be unwise to tell Itoll anything. The worst possible scenario would be to tell Itoll the truth—that Sey'les was about to be executed, and that the Spacer Coalition had a plan to save her which may or may not be implemented in time.

"I must say, your protective feelings to this Lir Sey'les are admirable," Azi'skar said in a measured tone, looking into Itoll's eyes, then down to his wrist chronometer.

Itoll frowned, fur twitching in annoyance. "Is that a real compliment, High Councillor?"

"I—What?" Azi'skar stammered, bewildered by Itoll's tone.

Itoll picked up Azi'skar's durasteel name plate from the desk. "I feel things," he grunted, holding the plate up. A moment later, he dropped the metal with a loud crash, causing Azi'skar to jump in his chair. "I feel things."

"I—I don't understand your point," Azi'skar growled, massaging his ears. "We are doing everything we can for Sey'les. I am—"

—Itoll leapt to his feet so quickly that his empty chair fell backwards behind him. "You said it is admirable that I feel things."

"Stop yelling!" Azi'skar yelled, missing the irony entirely. His greying black fur bristled. "I am only trying to be polite, Itoll Oc'skar. I could have let you be an exile, but I welcomed you to my Clan. I could have just let the Spynet kill you, but I saved your life, against the wishes of the rest of the Spacer Coalition High Council."

"And I am grateful for that," Itoll growled cautiously. "But, respectfully, all of this politeness is wasting valuable time."

I am wasting time? Azi'skar thought to himself incredulously, imagining the dozen holopresences in his office waiting impatiently. Once again, he looked at his chronometer briefly before standing up and approaching his office door. "Itoll, I am sorry, but I am very busy. Just know, there is a plan in place."

"A plan in place?" Itoll narrowed his rusty-brown and blue eyes for a moment. "You're…" he gasped in sudden realisation. "You're already trying to rescue her! Why am I not involved? Why don't you trust—"

"—Itoll, it's not that I don't trust you," Azi'skar said firmly. "There are other considerations though, and please understand… I feel like we've gotten off on the incorrect feet, as the humans say."

"High Councillor, I request that—"

"—I hope you have a good rest of your day," Azi'skar growled as politely as he could, opening his office door. "Trigger? Could you get Itoll's coat?"

Itoll's fur bristled. "I didn't bring one."

"Come with me sir," Trigger said, putting a hand on Itoll's shoulder.

With reluctance, Itoll allowed himself to be led from Azi'skar's office.

A few seconds after the door closed, Azi'skar sighed in relief, looking once again at his chronometer.

o.o.o.o.o

What the Spynet did not yet know was that, after they began sending the Spacer Coalition fewer packets of data, Botha'ahir's Central Security Agency had found a way to get all of that intelligence anyway. The how of their so-called "strategic information assurance" was well beyond High Councillor Gavin Azi'skar's paygrade.

But Azi'skar knew for certain they had. Back in the secure information room behind his office, the High Councillor sat at his desk, surrounded by the dozen holopresences of the Spacer Coalition's military and civilian leadership.

On the main viewer were two broadcasts. One was of the interior of a Botha'ahir Marine boarding vessel, without much going on.

The other was a livestream encrypted only for those Spynet operatives cleared to know about essence transfer. Two Bothans were centre screen in the latter broadcast. Both were bright white with ornamental letters dyed onto their fur and electrodes on their heads.

One was obviously Lir Sey'les, in spite of her shaved mane and dyed fur. Now wearing brown Jedi Robes she stared ahead at the camera. On the opposite side of the screen, a jubilant Garmr wore sanguine black and red robes.

"How far out is the boarding team?" Azi'skar growled nervously.

A holopresence wearing a Marine uniform answered. "Ten minutes out, High Councillor."

"Shtak we're out of time…."

"Viewers… Esteemed colleagues," a loud voice boomed from the main viewer. "I welcome you here today. Most of you have never seen my likeness. I reveal myself to you now as the head of Reaper Division, for the first time in well… Let's say a long time."

Azi'skar hmm'd to himself. Consciousness transfer… Hypothetically it could make a Bothan live quite a long time. Perhaps we can eventually secure this for the Coalition.

Garmr looked into the camera, continuing to speak. "As the head of Reaper, I have carried out the unsavoury task of eliminating those from amongst our ranks who are disloyal—yet far too dangerous to allow to go to trial. Those whom Spynet Operatives cannot necessarily be trusted to kill. And why should you be?" Garmr sighed despondently, as if trying to convey that he felt remorse for those he had killed. "Why should we expect you to kill your own friends and colleagues? Even if the killing is justified, doing so is difficult.

"But no termination I have ever ordered or carried out myself is more justified than the termination of Lir Sey'les. She is responsible for millions of thousands of deaths, Morseerian deaths, Squib deaths, Bothan deaths, Koorivar deaths…"

The livestream of Lir Sey'les and Garmr went black for a moment, replaced by battle footage. A tall mountain, overlooking a town Azi'skar recognised as Varnek, exploded. The clouds flashed with green and red laserfire as a squadron of LAATs descended onto the town like vultures.

o.o.o.o.o

Lir Sey'les

In orbit of Leritor

"This is bullshtak!" Sey'les gasped, fur bristling as Garmr continued to rant. She squirmed angrily, unable to move her arms which were strapped into the chair.

Playing on the viewer in front of her was footage of Techno Union building on Merj. Her own voice snarled excitedly from the screen "I don't care about civilian casualties! Do it!"

The Techno Union building burned brightly—brightly from what Sey'les knew was the explosion of a thermal detonator in an oxygen lab. Then the screen crackled with static as the camera was hit by a massive shockwave. Garmr's voice narrated. "On a busy workday, Lieutenant Commander Lir Sey'les ordered the use of a tactical nuclear warhead, levelling an entire factory district—this operative's excessive actions continued to risk Bothan neutrality, even before the Battle of Murkhana."

Ignoring her danger sense, Sey'les to snarled in fury. "That's fake footage! Fen, you must know that's fake footage!"

"Yeah," Fen growled, scratching the back of his neck. "It's not like they can hear you though, is it?"

"Is any of it true?" Korsk asked as footage of the Techno Union attack on Skor II unfolded on the main viewer. Tidal waves crashed through the city of Prosstäd, sending skyscrapers tumbling down as the air became thick with smoke.

Sey'les gulped, wondering if they had footage of Nebhir Traf'lab leaping to her death. She hadn't thought much about the half-Squib in weeks and was not sure how she would react if that was played.

Thankfully, the footage ended.

Now slightly teary eyed again, Sey'les found herself staring into the red eyes of her mysterious judge, accuser, and executioner. Garmr.

"Lieutenant Commander Lir Sey'les, you have been sentenced to death for crimes against civilisation, murder, and—needless to say—treason. Do you have any last words before we proceed? Perhaps an apology may give some of the families of your victims some closure."

Her fur twirled unhappily. Tears of anger formed as she narrowed her eyes. "You son of a bitch. It's not good enough to just kill me because you want my powers. Just… Blast you all."

A smirk formed at the end of Garmr's snout. "Very well, Lir Sey'les, you only continue to harden my resolve. Commence transfer!"

Sey'les's danger sense flared up stronger than ever. Every fiber of her being was telling her to move out of this chair. She squirmed involuntarily for a moment. Sit still. Let's go out with some dignity. She closed her eyes.

"Casting consciousness in five, four, three, two, one…"

A searing pain flared up behind her right eye. Sey'les whimpered, opening her eyes. A deafening ringing noise blared in her head, drowning out all sounds around her. Her sense of smell disappeared.

Sey'les looked around helplessly, feeling the most excruciating pain she had felt since being burned on Antar 4. Asir, Korsk, Linay, even Fen looked troubled. Troubled but they won't do anything. Kriff them. To hell with them. Those—

Her gaze settled on a purple presence she could not explain.

Standing on the dining table on the opposite side of the mess hall from Sey'les's execution chair, was a Savrit Cat—an indigenous quadruped native to the Bothan Arctic. Instead of the usual snowy white, this Savrit cat was purple, just like the prophet Veryk. Of all the deities Sey'les's polytheistic clan worshipped, Veryk was the prophet of the thawing snow, desire, fertility, and new life.

Asir, Korsk, Fen, Arakh and Linay's fur went flat as they continued to stare at her. They were clearly afraid of something, but took no notice of the animal who had appeared in their midst.

"Veryk," Sey'les whimpered the deity's name. Shtak. He is real. I never believed. It was just a stupid story… Well, he's… He's taking me to the afterlife… For a wild moment, Sey'les wished that, instead, Askal, the prophet of courage and creativity had come to take her.

Veryk's voice spoke in Sey'les's mind. It had a very un-Savrit-like quality—not squeaky at all. Instead, absurdly posh-sounding and measured. Lir Sey of Clan Ales, reach out with the Force.

In spite of the agonising pain, Sey'les's ears perked up as she stared at Savrit. If she could not see Veryk's purple furry form standing before her with her own two eyes, she would have guessed his voice belonged to a human from Coruscant, perhaps from Tinnel or Kuat.

FOCUS!

"Yes, Veryk. What is it you need?" Sey'les slurred. Unable to hear anything, she hoped that her words were comprehensible.

Lir, reach out with the Force, Veryk repeated soothingly.

Asir, Fen, Arakh, Korsk and Linay opened their snouts, clearly saying things to each other. Their jaws moved silently once again. All four had flat fur. Korsk was frantically pressing buttons.

Ignoring them, Sey'les reached out with the Force. Both in front of her snout and in her head was a disembodied presence of some sort. It was struggling to reach her—struggling to force its way into her mind.

Yes, that is Garmr you sense. A meeting was convened. We have decided that Garmr cannot be permitted to take possession of your body. It is too risky. Do you understand?

"We? Garmr… A meeting..." Sey'les moaned, mouthing the words but unable to hear anything. Drool dripped from her jaw as she quaked in agony. "So you'll kill me to stop Garmr then? Do it. If it has to be done, just take me."

The purple Savrit shook his head. You are resisting Garmr, effectively thwarting his efforts. Should he succeed, however, you will be dead. Garmr will once again have a strong connection to the Force.

"Veryk… Why don't you help me?" Sey'les pleaded, fur falling flat. "I'm too weak… I can't… I am dying..."

I am helping, Lir. Reach out to Garmr—feel his presence as if were a physical object.

Sey'les reached out once again, this time twisting her left hand, which was bound to the chair, pointing her fingers up. As if gripping a ball, she moved her fingers firmly, then rotated them. Garmr's presence twisted, rotating in the same direction her hands did. She could see the spiderweb likeness of Garmr now, not with eyes, but through her forcesight.

Very good. I am proud of you. Now…

The bindings around Sey'les's wrists unclipped themselves, falling to the floor.

Now cast Garmr back to whence he came, Veryk's posh human voice instructed. You are learning how to control your Force nullification abilities, by the way.

"Nullification…" Sey'les mumbled to herself, standing up. Her fur danced with pride. Veryk said he was proud of me...

Korsk and Linay, who Sey'les could only imagine were yelping in terror, ran towards the exit. Asir and Fen stared at Sey'les, snouts open in shock.

Sey'les gulped nervously. Her dancing fur started to swirl. Not used to manipulating things with the Force, nor with conversing with prophets, she was completely out of her element. Yet, she did as instructed, crumpling Garm's spiderweb-shaped consciousness into a ball. With a determined grimace, she flung her hand down towards the floor.

As Garmr's crumpled consciousness fell down to Leritor, Sey'les thought she could hear a terrified yelp.

Sey'les smiled, sighing in relief as the pain subsided.

Excellent work, Veryk said soothingly.

Sey'les collapsed back into the execution chair, massaging her headache-ridden cranium. "Ugh. I still can't hear. Well, I can't hear anything except for you."

Asir stood in front of Sey'les, mouthing something.

Your hearing will return. But it is fortunate it is gone.

"Why?" Sey'les croaked. "Why is it good that I can't hear?"

A stun grenade flew into the room, rolling in front of Fen.

The Marshalls are rescuing you.

"The Marshals," Sey'les murmured. "Itoll?"

As the flashbang went off brightly, Veryk's voice spoke reassuringly. No, not Itoll. The Spacer Coalition's rescue team is running a bit late. You are quite popular, I must say.

Blue-uniformed Bothans spilled into the room, waving their Bola Carbines.

Fen stood in the middle of the room, covering his ears. A Marshal stepped up to him and whacked his snout with the butt of his carbine.

I sense you are going to be fine, Veryk said optimistically. Can you feel it?

Pausing, Sey'les realised her danger sense was completely gone. "Yeah…"

A portal opened up at the back of the room, revealing a dark realm behind it with almost no light. No one but Sey'les and Veryk seemed to notice it

Good, Veryk smiled. I hope your newly learnt control over these abilities serves you well. More importantly, may the Force be with you, Lir Sey of Clan Ales

"Is… Is that the afterlife?" Sey'les growled. "Is there no light in it? Why is it so dark?"

The portal closed with Veryk behind it, leaving Sey'les's question unanswered.

A Marshall was now shining a glowrod in her face, opening and closing his snout as he uttered instructions she could not hear.