Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while. I'm sorry for the length of time between updates. My laptop took a dump and I had to wait until I had a new one, to update again. Anyways, I'm here and so is the next chapter.
Now, I'm taking a few risks with this chapter and would love to know what you all would think. Well, I'm sure you all didn't click on this to listen to me chatter on and on. So, Without further ado, I give you chapter 16...
The skies were angry. Thunder rolled in the distance as a bitter west wind brought in a fresh round of clouds. Obi Wan pulled his robe hood up as drops of rain started dropping from the overhead clouds. As his peripheral vision went away, he filled the gap by reaching out further with the Force.
Moving from shadow to shadow, Obi Wan first slipped through his own line before picking his way across a mile and a half of no man's land. As he picked his way through, over, around, and sometimes under buildings, the Jedi Master had time to think. His mind raced from puzzle piece to puzzle piece.
The General's actions made no sense. Earth wasn't his target. Hell, it wasn't anyone's target. Less than a year ago, hardly anyone knew or cared that this planet existed. Yet, now, they were dumping millions of droids into a costly and strategically pointless campaign. As it stood, the council had considered leaving it to the CIS. Only the risk of a direct assault on Courascant kept that kept that option off the table. Yet why didn't Grievous simply leave when the space was cleared. He was burning his invasion fleet on something that this auxiliary fleet could handle. There was something else going on. No intelligence report, or force vision told him so. Obi Wan could simply feel it in his ever-aging bones.
After two hours of walking, Obi Wan reached the rendezvous site. It was a burned-out apartment complex on the south-central side of town. He examined the place visually and with the force. He felt nothing.
"No matter. They should be here soon," Obi Wan mumbled as he ducked into an open doorway.
The Jedi wrinkled his nose at the smell as he tried to ignore the two uniformed bodies in the front room. He picked his way through the broken remains of the house as he checked the back room for occupants. There were one. Obi Wan stooped down and visually picked apart the man balled up against the door. In his skeletal hand was a picture of what the Jedi assumed was his family. To one side was the shattered remains of a long-necked bottle. Closer by was a pistol missing only one bullet. Despite the decay of the body, Obi Wan didn't find it hard to guess what had happened. Unlike the two in the front room, he wasn't killed by droids. It was another kind of wartime damage.
Obi Wan's comm link chimed. The noise broke him out of his thoughts.
"Obi Wan, go," he answered as he made his way to the remains of the kitchen.
"This is Shadow one. We're coming up on the complex. This is going to have to be quick," announced the SAS Captain with a horse whisper.
Obi wan looked out the window. Hidden in the lengthening shadows of the administration building were seven even darker shadows.
"Roger meet me in the door off your three. It's the only one with an open door," Obi Wan requested.
For good measure, Obi Wan ignited his lightsaber. The blade disappeared with a hiss as the squad approach the door. The first three SAS soldiers didn't do much as slow upon entering the building. With rifles leveled, they began sweeping the area. Obi Wan simply stepped out of their way. Long ago, he had learned that it was nothing personal. A squad like this always cleared a place themselves. However, now the sideways glances were telling the Jedi something else.
"Clear!" Called the men in near unison.
by this point, the leader, Captain Smith, had entered the room.
"So, how bad is it?" Obi Wan asked as he leaned against a perforated wall.
"Not good. He's got that south side locked down tight. Getting in was nearly impossible. They've got overlapping sniper nests on each approach. Heavy armor on the east flank that's guarded by both B-1 and B-2 droids. Drodekas and Commando units have the interior, " the Captain answered while wiping sweat and rain from his black and brown painted face.
"Your best bet for approach is the sewer entrance two kilometers off the North gate. That's how we go to our post across the street," added in another person from the squad.
What about getting into the complex?" Obi Wan quizzed.
"You aren't. That place is tight. There's at least five companies wrapped around that place," Smith declared before dropping his voice, "The package will ground his ship. Given his sudden lack of army, Grievous will more than likely evacuate to a safer position behind the lines. I'd have a team ambush him when he exits town."
Obi Wan hid his frustration behind a poker face. He stroked his beard and considered his options. Waiting wasn't a good option, but Captain Smith has proven himself just as reliable and skilled as any of the 212th's own scouts. There was no reason to doubt the man's judgment.
A few seconds ticked by and Obi Wan felt older than Yoda as the Captain's words began to sink in. "Wait." That one word always seemed so simple and so safe. Yet now it screamed of danger and missed opportunities. How many times had Grievous escaped because Obi Wan waited. How many people had died from these decisions to be patient. Visions of fire danced in Obi Wan's head. Faces of the dead floated to the front of his mind. He was tired. This war... This life... had taken so much and given so little. The seasoned master shivered in silence as the SAS squad took up their posts. Obi Wan leaned against the wall, as his knees threatened to lose their strength. This had to end.
"Return to the line. Inform Colonel Yosef and Commander Cody that they have full control. I never arrived and as far as you know, I was killed," Obi Wan declared as he found his strength again.
The Captain's eyebrows shot up. He trusted the Kenobi, but not that much.
"The counter-attack needs to happen. They will need to go hard and fast. Cody won't do that if I'm engaging Grievous. The risk of friendly fire will silence his heavier weapons," Obi Wan elaborated.
"We shouldn't need those," Captain Smith hissed.
The whisper only added weight to the Captain's words.
"You know what they say about battle plans," Obi Wan shot back.
With that, the Jedi marched for the door.
"And if you live?" Smith demanded.
"That's my problem," he answered over his shoulder.
Obi Wan allowed a thin smile as the Captain swore oaths that he couldn't hope to fulfill. Anger was a powerful tool, and, contrary to the Jedi way, he planned to use it.
(Cheyanne Air Force Station: Two hours prior)
Agent Garner looked at the pictures with cold detachment. He read through the pages upon pages of reports with the same attitude. The Blue Shadow virus was carving a bloody hole through Earth's population. Within a few weeks, it had wiped out more people than both World Wars combined. By all credible estimates, Earth had lost half of its total population to this war.
He forced himself to close the file and move on. He grabbed the next file. On it was typed in black bold lettering:
CLASSIFIED: EYES ONLY
Investigation into Duchess Satine of Mandalore
That file was just as thick. As Garner read, his mood fell to an all-time low. The investigation was nothing but a giant string of screw ups and political maneuvering. After two hours of reading, he finished his notes and slammed the file shut. He was never impressed with the Jedi as an organization, and this solidified that sentiment. Their jacked-up sense of morality clashed with their pseudo-pacifism, and Obi Wan's personal feelings to create quite the messy operation.
"God, that was painful," he muttered as he stood up and went for the line of peg boards along the back wall.
There he pinned another face to ten-foot puzzle of string connected places and names.
Next it was onto "Second Invasion of Geonosis".
He read that one and shook his head.
"How badly do you have to fuck up in order to end up having to re-invade a planet that you have occupied for a year." he muttered as he turned the page.
"Pretty bad," he gasped as he read the invasion force numbers.
He read the file and tossed it to the side. He made a few notes about one "Poggle the Lesser" and added his face to the peg board. Then using a red string and two tacks, he connected Poggle's picture to one of Count Dooku. Agent Garner took a step back and frowned in confusion. Every face and event on the board traced back to Dooku. Not all followed a straight line, but that was the end result. The first and second invasions of Geonosis, the mess with Deathwatch- "Space IRA" as he had mentally labeled them- the clone army, General Grievous, and others.
"No... no. He can't be the last link," Agent Garner declared as he thumbed through the file on Count Dooku.
Dooku wasn't the last link. Agent Garner was looking for a puppet master. Whomever was doing this was playing both sides like a damn fiddle and Dooku didn't fit that bill. He was a highly public figure. He made himself the political face of the CIS. To that extent, he profiled like every other narcissistic leader Agent Garner had dealt with. Yet, he wasn't in charge. An over-inflated sense of self didn't make Dooku the brain of the operation. It just gave him a big head. Agent Garner was looking for someone who avoided the spotlight. He was looking for the man hiding in the shadows, not the one dancing in plain view.
Agent Garner was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door.
"Enter," he called as he spun around.
A brunette Secret Service agent stuck her head in.
"You're wanted in the President's office," she announced.
Agent Garner nodded and began gathering the files into their proper boxes. Seeing this, the agent disappeared and pulled the heavy oak door shut behind her. Upon finishing, he walked out to find her waiting outside the door. The agent silently escorted him down through the winding passages. He was eventually deposited at the door to the President's office. There another Secret Service agent verified his identity and ushered him in.
Agent Garner adjusted his crooked tie as he walked through the door. The room was dominated by a large oak desk along the back wall. In front of it were two metal chairs. Off to the right was a white couch similar in style to those inside the, now non-existent, oval office. All of this was tied together with plush, red carpet and empty white walls.
"Agent Garner, welcome," Greeted the President as he stood up at his desk.
"Mr. President. Directors," he acknowledged with a quick salute. The President gave his best attempt at one in return, while Director Baits and the CIA director, Tim Holland, simply nodded.
"I see you guys have been doing some homework of your own," Agent Garner observed as he gestured to the desk.
"Yes, and as of right now, you are back under the CIA's control and possibly on assignment," Holland declared.
"I'm sorry?" Garner answered with surprise.
"He got a bit ahead of us," the President answered with a scowl, "First, what do you think."
"Permission to speak freely."
"I did ask what you thought."
"'Granted,'" Director Holland translated.
"The Jedi are a bunch of incompetent morons, the Galactic Republic is rapidly imploding, and Dooku isn't the brain of this war," Agent Garner answered clinically.
The matter-of-fact tone in his words seemed to add even more cynicism to the statement.
"That seems to be the consensus of my analysts. The real question is who is playing everyone and what is they're end game? Is this someone who's extremely power hungry, someone who's got an ax to grind, or just someone who wants to watch the galaxy burn?" Director Baits agreed.
"I think we can cross out number two and number three. You can do that with a few well-placed assassinations and much less risk," Holland added in.
"No. Whomever is doing this is doing it with the most collateral damage possible. I believe it's someone high up in the Republic, and they are pissed off. They want to be on top, but they want on top of a very specific pile of ashes." Agent Garner argued, "Most of the major events in and leading up to this war involve the Jedi. More specifically, they involve Jedi getting killed or severely injured. I think someone is trying to gain control at the expense of the Jedi."
"You think that was intentional?" President Damian quizzed, "We do know that the Jedi were the main method for resolving conflict pre-war. That could just be a coincidence."
"With all due respect, that could be the case, but I doubt it. We know that there are many former Jedi who have a problem with the order, and at least one of those has come out of the woodwork as a major political leader. It's possible that there's another behind the scenes pulling the strings," Agent Garner countered.
"So, you think this whole thing is an elaborate conspiracy against the Jedi?" Damian pursued.
The man's arched eyebrows conveyed his disbelief.
"I hope you have proof to back up this theory," Director Baits warned.
"Would you bet your life on it?" Director Holland cut in.
Despite a heavy veil, Director Holland's defense of Agent Garner failed to go unnoticed.
"My life, yes," Garner answered crisply.
"The world?"
"The galaxy?"
The questions shot one right after another. Agent Garner mentally reeled as his mind finally wrapped around the scope of what he was investigating. This wasn't some, now petty, international conspiracy. He was talking about an intergalactic conspiracy with moving parts innumerable and in-measurable power at stake.
"My life, yes. Others, no," Agent Garner answered in a near whisper, "However, I have learned to follow the evidence where it takes me. Right now, it's pointing to a rouge Jedi and a government conspiracy. Someone high in the Republic ranks is dirty. As long as the evidence swings that way, I will swing that way."
President Damian rose to his full height as the CIA agent finished.
"Director Holland is due for a meeting with Courascant in twenty minutes. I expect you and that evidence for this accusation ready to present when he's done," the President ordered.
"Yes sir." Agent Garner answered crisply.
"Good. Gentlemen, unless there is something else, all three of you are dismissed," Damian concluded.
"Yes sir."
(Jedi Temple war room: 20 minutes later)
Padme, Yoda, and Mace Windu watched as the large holotable hummed to life. She was quickly greeted with the usual assortment of people. Anakin, Director Holland, and... wait. There was one that didn't belong. It was a tall, big-boned officer with dark hair, a four-day stubble, and a dirt-painted face.
"You, on the right. Who are you," Padme demanded as she pointed to the officer in black and white camouflage fatigues.
"Colonel Iosef, Russian Federation Army," he answered in heavily accented basic.
It was immediately clear that basic wasn't his first language.
"Where's General Kenobi?" she quizzed.
"Where's Cody?" Master Windu followed up.
Yosef's head dropped. One could hear a pin drop in the war room gravel crunched under his shuffling feet.
After a couple seconds, the Colonel looked up and declared, "General Kenobi is dead."
Those four words cut through the meeting like a hot knife through butter. Padme opened her mouth to speak. Yet, no sound came out. Yoda's ears dropped as he leaned heavily on his short, wooden cane. Next to him, Mace Windu simply shook his head with a look of thinly veiled sadness. Padme cast a hopeful look to her husband. He had always been able to sense his former master, even when no one else could. The only response was a look of ice.
"When, where, and how?" Anakin quizzed as he turned to the Colonel.
"Two hours ago, on the south side of Volgograd. According to Captain Smith who was there at the time, he got caught in the blast of to thermal detonators. They're only alive 'cause he tried to quote-unquote 'contain the blast' with his Force powers," Yosef explained, "There wasn't enough to recover, and the team was forced to retreat back behind our lines."
Anakin appeared as though he taken a punch to the solar plexus. His breath grew quick as shallow as reality set in. His hands began to shake as he tried to contain the torrent of emotion within him.
"Where's Cody?" Director Holland cut in after a couple seconds.
"He's preparing the men to move out tonight. This day has not been good. Kenobi is dead, and our package never arrived. We have to move without it," Yosef answered.
"That's suicide," Holland gasped.
"It is, but it's our chance to strike a decisive blow. Grievous was confirmed to be in the city. His death would greatly ease the pressure on our forces," the Colonel justified.
"I see."
"Understandable, your decision is," Yoda agreed.
"What about you fine gentlemen. How is the 'great' and 'mighty' American army doing," Yosef asked in a voice dripping with contempt.
Director Holland ignored his tone and moved on to his part of the updates before letting Anakin finish up. In short, things had bogged down into a war of attrition. The tactical droids in charge had failed to successfully punch through the Cascades with any meaningful numbers. Defensive lines running from British Columbia to Arizona were holding on, even if barely. In Seattle, they had punched through the cascades and across the flatter lands of eastern Washington, only to be stopped along at the base of various Rocky Mountain ranges. In the east, Lines along the Mississippi River and Missouri River were holding firm. Liberal doses of heavy ordnance had ensured that there were no bridges for the droids to cross on, while long-range, mobile artillery continued to hammer any place where the droids tried building their own crossing. On the Northern edge of the droid lines, weather had stunted attempts to punch through the northern half of Canada. In the higher elevations of the Canadian Rockies, winter was still in full swing and dishing out it's punishment equally between the two sides.
"Alright, let's discuss why we're all really here," Director Holland spoke up as Anakin finished, "Where are we with reinforcements."
"Nowhere. The Senate won't sign off," Padme answered.
"Even if they did, we don't have anyone to spare. Both Yoda's men and mine are currently rearming and refitting. They won't be ready for quite a while," Mace Windu added.
"So, plan B," Holland declared.
Padme nodded in confirmation.
"The Republic military has a stealth craft in orbital dock. We should be able to extract a small diplomatic group and bring them here to speak to the Senate directly. Hearing from you guys would be more beneficial than me talking for you. I haven't exactly won any favors lately," she confirmed.
"Speaking of favors, what do your analysts think of the data we sent over?" Mace Windu asked.
"They agree that your problem are coming from within the Republic government. Someone is playing both sides like a fiddle. You don't want to know what they think of your investigative abilities," Holland answered crisply.
Windu ignored the side comment and cast a look down at Yoda.
"Hmm... prepare your diplomats, you should. Bring security of your own, I recommend. Safe, this planet is not, I fear," Yoda announced solemnly.
"They'll be waiting."