Chapter 15: Two Councils

[The High Council chamber, The Ouran, space above Falleen, the Falleen system]

"The Council is now in session."

Micah sat back in his seat as Mace continued. He'd had to run to the chamber after ensuring that A'Sharad and Xiaan were both fine. Well, maybe 'fine' wasn't quite the right word, but not in imminent danger at any rate. In the centre of the chamber stood Shaak, waiting patiently to address the council.

"For those who don't know," began Mace, "Shaak uncovered a potential Sith infiltration of the Galactic Senate. One lead in particular she uncovered was of a connection to Damask Holdings, a senator and Darth Jadus himself. As you can all imagine, this is not a welcome prospect. But. It is one that we have to face."

The silence was long. When the sheer depth had sunk in, Depa Billaba spoke.

"Shaak, did your informant say anything of unusual note?"

"Not much. Apart from emphasising the word Insidious. He was not happy with being too specific, unfortunately."

Glances were exchanged between the councillors. Glances with many unspoken conversations behind them. They all knew what this meant, the road that now lay before them – each had at least served all those years ago. Some memories refused to die.

Adi herself held a very meaningful eye-contact with Saesee. Staring into each other's eyes – into their souls… they both knew.

Whatever came, they could face it together. Would face it together.

"Most… curious," said Oppo Rancisis, stroking his beard. "Damask Holdings holds important sway in the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Prime target for economic warfare – we should speak with its CEO."

"That," replied Adi, "Is going to be a problem. Hego Damask was found dead this morning."

If the silence before had been extensive, it was nothing to the one that reigned now. It practically rang in the air, sound seeming so suppressed that one could be forgiven for expecting a pin-drop to be muffled by the sheer weight of quiet.

At long last, it was broken by Micah.

"I don't even need The Force to tell me that is not a coincidence. What do we know?" He leaned forward, gazing at Adi, a very focussed expression on his face. "Where? How? Who saw him last?"

"The Galaxies Opera House, cause of death still awaiting post mortem – we can have his body transferred to our staff if we can get us a warrant. Last person known to have contact with him was one Sheev Palpatine." A minor snigger from Yarael Poof at the mention of 'Sheev', which Adi ignored. "incumbent Senator of Naboo. He was seen leaving the theatre last night – but well before the preliminary time of death. That said, I'll be asking him a few questions."

"Transferred, the body should be," said Yoda slowly, thought present in his every movement. "Investigate it fully, our healers should. All in favour?"

There was a unanimous "Aye".

"Right, while the medics are handling the corpse, I'll do some sleuthing with the politicians – try to wring some information out of them-"

"If I may make a suggestion," cut across Yarael, waiting for her incline of the head before continuing. "Might you also draw on any contacts of yours who can help you narrow down suspects? Take on their advice in the investigation?"

Pausing to think, placing a few fingers on her chin and tapping, Adi took a moment before deciding.

"… Yes. I can do that; I'll do a little asking around."

Saesee, quiet as he usually was, then spoke up.

"The pertinent question then becomes, who do we reach out to? Or rather, who do we trust? There cannot be room for doubt here – anyone we involve as a confidant in this matter must be trusted."

Adi nodded fervently.

"Caution you must use, Master Gallia," advised Yoda, "Take great care in your choices. Time you should take in reaching your decisions. Consult the council at every step – inform us of every decision you make you must."

"Perhaps our friend from Troiken?" said Plo, fingers interlaced. "Senator Valorum? He has become quite popular in the wake of the Stark affair – might he be helpful in identifying who has pull in the senate?"

Adi replied almost at once.

"No, not Finis. Too naïve, unfortunately. I'll look into things. That aside, however, we'll need someone to investigate the non-political side of things – someone who can assess, collate and analyse everything we find."

"Any thoughts?" asked Micah.

"None myself – I'm not that familiar with the investigatory side of our order."

"I do have someone in mind," said Yarael, tapping his spindly fingers together, thoughtfully. "Master Solusar. He's staying in the temple long-term anyway to refocus on his padawan and he's certainly capable."

"Will he be bringing the husband?" Eeth Koth put in dryly. There were more than a few sniggers.

"Jokes aside, I do not think it a good idea to involve Master Sifo-Dyas, close as he is to Ranik." Despite his words, even Mace appeared to have an upturned corner of lip. "We do not need his style of investigation in this – he'd end up invalidating anything we dug up somehow with how often he candidly ignores authority. I do agree that Ranik himself would be well-suited, however."

"Agree I do," added Yaddle, "All in favour?"

A collective "Aye".

[Padawans quarters, The Ouran]

Bultar shut the door behind her, lowering her voice as she began.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?!"

A sigh from Xiaan. Well, this was a conversation she wasn't going to enjoy.

"I… A'Sharad needs… special instruction. It's why he has The Dark Woman for a master."

Bultar's jaw hung open at her words.

"Special instruction?" She repeated back, a slightly alarmed look growing on her face. "What kind of- … is he… dangerous?"

Xiaan frowned, irritably.

"Of course he's not fucking dangerous! Fuck's sake Bultar, you've known him for years, haven't you?"

Bultar shook herself slightly.

"Right. Yeah, sorry. Just… I'm worried, you understand that?"

"I understand that it's generally not a good idea to form rush opinions over things you don't really know that much about." The statement was very pointed.

Bultar pursed her lips slightly.

"Alright; can you tell me about it then?"

Her reply was a lot of lip chewing.

"If he hasn't told you… I… do not have the right to. I'm sorry Bultar – just please trust me on this. Trust A'Sharad on this. He's alright; he's our friend."

Pinching the bridge of her nose a little, Bultar sighed. Here was hoping she wasn't going to seriously regret this.

"Okay. You're right – I have known him for years… sorry."

[Healers deck, The Ouran]

"Aaaand you have a clean bill of physical health," Caudle finished, stowing his implements. He held out his usual selection of lollipops for Stass to choose from. He seated himself while she sucked on a bright red one. "So," he asked kindly, "how have you been? Nightmares still?"

A mute nod.

"If need be, I can get you something to help you sleep soundly." His offer was given with a degree of warmth slightly above his usual levels.

Stass shook her head vigorously, the tendrils of her headdress flapping.

"N-no; it dulls my connection to The Force – I'm going to need that."

"After you return from your mission, then?"

"Um… maybe. I'll need to think about it."

A nod of understanding.

"My door is always open – take your time."

Rising to leave, Stass moved to the door, only for it to open before she reached it.

"What in the-?!" Caudle exclaimed at the sight.

"I… is this a bad time?" Grunted the deathly white Bruck Chun.

"Not with those wounds it isn't!" yelped the Kubaz, "In! In! Sit down before you fall down! Stass – sponge, warm water please!"

"On it!" Stass was at the refresher already, a basin filling.

Wasting absolutely no time, Caudle tugged Bruck over to his examination table, practically pushing the boy onto it. He was caked in blood smears, open wounds on his chest, leg and face. It stained his blue robes vividly and even by Echani metrics, he was pale.

"No, it's not that bad, I can come back lat-"

"I strongly disagree! I'd sooner turn in my medical licence than let you leave my office without treatment! What in the galaxy happened?" Pulling on a set of clean gloves, he studied Bruck's head injury.

"Sparring."

"This is not a good time to lie to me, Bruck!"

"No, I was sparring. With Oafy."

"Oafy? Thank you, Stass." Caudle wet the sponge and began frantically dabbing away blood from Bruck's face. "Could you get another sponge and start on his chest please, Stass? We need to see the extent of this!"

She nodded, fetching one quickly and peeling open the slash in his robes to start work.

"It's what he calls Obi-Wan, I think," She added to Caudle's question.

"What? Padawan Kenobi did this to you?! Why?! HOW?!" He had to keep him talking until he was certain Bruck was in no immediate danger. He also very much wanted to know what in the actual fuck had resulted in this.

"Got sick of him thinking he was all the shit – told him to prove it."

"And this was your chosen method?" Dab, dab, dab.

"Ah! Maybe a dumb idea, yeah. Heh, got him good, though."

"What." Caudle stared at him, having now cleared most of the blood off his head – fortunately it didn't look serious. A thin cut – Stass was reporting the same from his chest, although a bit deeper. Mostly pain and blood loss were the most serious problems.

"Only one of us was standing at the end." Bruck grinned through his unblackened eye and bloody gums. "Out cold! I finally beat him!"

Caudle visibly paled.

"Stass! Finish sponging him, sterilise and then sow him up. Get him a basic blood boost too – I need to raise the alarm. Keep Bruck aware and talking – he may have lost a dangerous amount. Any questions?"

She shook her head.

"Got it – thank you! Bet you weren't planning on getting some impromptu experience today!"

With that, he seized a portable medkit and disappeared in a flash, his voice echoing behind him as he headed in the direction of Master Che's office.

"VOKARA! VOKAAARRRAAA!"

"What were you thinking?" Stass asked as she kept up her cleaning. She didn't sound nearly as alarmed as she probably should, instead she sounded almost curious.

"I… dunno to be hone- AHH! Shit that stings!"

She rolled her eyes. "Deal with it. Maybe you shouldn't go around getting into no-holds-barred mauls with your fellows."

"He just… pisses me off. He thinks he can just run off to a war for a year and just come back and pick up where he left off… bastard."

Stass was not one for getting involved in the personal situations of others – this wasn't her place to comment. But. If she didn't know better… he almost… sounded-

Master Che clattered in briskly, distracting her from her train of thought. The tall, business-like Twi'Lek wasted no time.

"How is he?"

"Doing okay – he's lucid and not showing signs of that fading. I was about to sterilise and stitch."

She nodded.

"Good, carry on – Master Caudle went to find Obi-Wan. I'll find Master Solusar-"

"NO!" Bruck started. Master Che fixed her steely gaze on him. The boy nervously kept gaze. He stopped to hiss - Stass spraying biodisinfectant on him.

"No?"

"I… I'd rather he not find out, if you'd be so kind, Master. He… it wouldn't go very well. I- I know I shouldn't have done this; I know it was stupid and I'm sorry. I… I just… every time I fuck up… he… it…" He sighed. "Please don't tell him."

Master Che frowned sternly.

"I do not like the idea. But, if it means that much to you, very well. He will see your wounds sooner or later, however."

Bruck grimaced as Stass began sowing him up.

"Y-yeah. I know. I'll… I'll make something up – just… just please give me some time, Master Che – and… could you… back me up if he asks?"

"… Very well."

[Padawans' quarters]

The suitcase clicked shut.

"Packed, then?"

Bultar looked up – it was K'Kruhk.

"Yes; can't wait to get off this spewbox."

"Just as long as you're not too keen to get away from me!" He laughed.

"Smell aside, nah! I don't think I could ever want to keep away from you," she returned. Casting her gaze around the small room she had only briefly occupied, she honestly felt she wasn't going to miss it. Pivoting to face her guest in the door, she offered a smile.

"Ready for your adventure?" His own grin was in full force.

"I'd say so, yes."

"You'll ace it! I know it. You coming down to dinner now, or are you gonna hang around letting your nerves control you?"

Her smile turned playful.

"Nerves? I've no idea what you're referring to…"

"Suuure you don't." That truly was a knowing, shiteating grin. He was even leaning on the door, the smug bastard.

"Come on, big guy. Food." She very pointedly didn't answer the question. Moving past him, she led the way to the nearest kitchens.

"Don't forget to call, we'll get bored without you."

"Somehow, I suspect you'll all find wonderful ways to entertain yourselves – if all else fails, you'll uncover a secret Sith plot to supplant the Republic and destroy teh Jedis!"

"Ha! We'll have better odds of The Order finding the chosen one within the year!"

"Wow, there's no need to be that pessimistic," she sniggered, mock elbowing him. "By the way, did you check out that show I recommended?"

"Oh yeah, I did actually."

"What did you think?"

"Well, let's see – two idiots so dense about their feelings they spend all the time arguing despite living in the same house and spending all their time together? One being an angry but kind-hearted redhead with the other being this submissive, withdrawn little guy? I absolutely loved it! Gonna watch that to bits! Modern comedy at its finest!"

"I know! He's so sweet but he can't make a decision for shit! Wait till you get the reveal about Rey – it'll blow your mind."

"Yeah, Rey's a bit of an odd one, actually – I can't quite work out what her purpose is. Is she a romantic competitor or a false lead? I mean, I'm inclined to think there's something else about her – she doesn't seem quite… I dunno."

"Trust me – it'll blow your mind. Don't look it up, whatever you do. Heck, stay away from comedy discussion boards till you've finished it."

"Noted; I'll try."

Bultar sniggered as she pushed open the kitchen door-

"SURPRISE!"

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Multi-coloured bunting and balloons festooned the room, confetti fluttering from some sort of dispensers on the ceiling. Overhead hung a banner with "Good Luck Bultar!" written on it. Standing before her was what appeared to be most of the padawans she was even vaguely familiar with – but a certain four were prominently at the front.

Stass and A'Sharad were slightly to the left, Stass having seemingly failed to notice she'd managed to get some glitter stuck on her cheek. Xiaan stood to the right, looking more than slightly pleased with their handiwork. Agen stood behind an impressive cake – doubtless of his creation - dark green with yellow icing as well as purple bits and pieces topping it off.

"You guys did all this?!"

"Yyyyep!" Chirruped Stass. "I rounded everyone up and organised them; A'Sharad did all the ceiling things, Xiaan was in charge of the other decorations and Agen, obviously, did the food!"

"And I distracted you so you didn't sense anything!" Chuckled K'Kruhk.

"Only now do I see your game!" Bultar replied, feigning betrayed hurt.

"Shamelessly guilty! Cake?"

She joined his mirth.

"You are incorrigible – what happened to you?" She pretended to think, tapping her chin with her finger. "Oh, right. Me!"

Chatter broke out, with the cake set aside for pudding, as Agen began serving his expertly-prepared main course to over thirty students.

[Ziost, the Ziost system]

Fingers closed tightly, crushing windpipe. Her victim lay broken and bloody under her. He was defenceless, helpless, against her. Her bronzed digits clenched harder, not letting up for even a second. Held beneath her like a ragdoll, her damaged plaything made only the slightest, most pitiful struggles. She could see the dilation of his eyes, the life ever so slowly draining away. He choked and writhed, spluttered and stuttered. Her own wild, intense orbs drank it all in; anguish, terror, pain, desperation. Finally, he was at the edge of abyss.

Then she relented, releasing her toy and standing. With an air of supremacy, she watched her toy panting on the floor for a little while, before viciously kicking into his gut. Then she drew her foot back and jabbed it in again, harder. She repeated a few more times before starting on his head. It was something of a mercy when her foot finally swept the gasping form aside, out of her way. Satisfied, she swaggered over to her throne, ascending the steps to retake her seat. It was one throne of fifteen – all now occupied, bar one – arrayed in a U-shape in the cavernous room. Light poured in from the crystalline skylight above, dropping a spotlight into the centre of the room where the still-stirring victim lay.

The Trust Of Ziost was in session.

Seating herself lazily, the beautiful girl appeared quite young, most likely in her early twenties at the very most. In reality, she was far, far older. She slid her raven, silken locks back, leaning on one arm and sliding her legs over the opposite arm rest.

Casting her content gaze at her fellow trustees, Lord Githany addressed them.

"Now, he hasn't said it, but I'm fairly certain he's relinquishing his challenge to my seat."

"Agreed," added the hulking, towering form of Darth Malak in the throne to her right.

"Let us move on to further business," said Darth Bane, from Githany's left, higher than the others, at the head to the formation. A shining glow from an inlet behind him made it difficult to look at him, to make out features under the glare. "Has Phobos landed yet?"

Almost as if on cue, the great monolithic doors at the far end of the chamber flew open. The tall, pale green Theelin strode in, carrying something in one hand.

"Excellent timing. What did Stark make of the message?" Bane called down at her.

"He seemed to find it insightful," Phobos replied wryly, "I also took the liberty of acquiring these from Troiken." She hefted the item in her hand, a sealed tank, filled with glittering Challat Eaters. "I'm sure you," she addressed Darth Occulus now, "and Mutanous will have some fun with these little horrors." She tossed the container at the Togruta, him summoning it to his gauntleted hand to inspect. His features obscured by his helmet, he glanced sideways at the hooded, equally unrecognisable form of Darth Mutanous, clad in all dark green.

"Fa~ascinating," came Occlus's jovial, reverberating response. "Yes, I think we'll have lo~ots of fu~uun with these cuties."

Phobos strode up to take her own seat on Malak's other side, sitting smugly cross-legged and turning her attention back to Bane.
"All in all, I think we can consider the matter closed."

"Excellent. Next on the agenda, then: the matter of Darth Plagueis." Bane glanced down to the bloodied mess on the floor. "The Trust's proceedings are confidential from this point onwards."

The mess stirred.

"Meaning get out," added Githany, "Unless you don't care to live."

Gasping as he rolled over, he made pained grasping at the floor, beginning to pull himself along, towards the door.

"We are awaiting holographic report. You have until communication is achieved."

Crying out raggedly, the beaten man dragged himself marginally faster, haste setting in. He was halfway to the door. All eyes watched him. Crawl, grunt, pull, gasp. Once or twice he let out a moan of pain – his limbs were far from medically safe to really use, but he did anyway. He had to.

Nearly to the open doors, now, a trail of blood smeared across the floor behind him. There was a beeping sound; the holoprojector firing up.

With a cry of anguish, the man, desperate and relentless, managed to stagger up, diving forwards. He was so close now.

A tell-tale hum sounded behind him. Darth Zannah's double blade had ignited. The short, tanned, blonde girl stood atop her throne's steps, on the end, opposite Mutanous. She was poised to leap out at any moment; to dive down and end him.

Somehow, the man made it, staggering past the double doors seconds before they closed and locked. A hologram of a tall, hooded figure burst to life as Zannah stowed her weapon and seated herself again.

"Darth Sidious," announced Bane, "How did your master die? We all sensed his passing last night, but we have little context."

"I ended his life," the hologram replied, curtly. "The Jedi order uncovered a lead on Damask Holdings. He was exposed – it was a simple matter of time before the Jedi or he, himself, knew it. I saw the danger he was in and the weakness of him – he had become a liability. To preserve the operation, I removed him. Metaphorically, I cut loose the ballast to remain afloat."

"Are you compromised?" the hooded, blue-skinned Darth Ruin asked immediately.

"No; the Jedi know that my civilian identity was close to him, but not how close. I will undoubtedly be questioned, but they have no reason to connect me to Damask Holdings over any number of others. They are, however, undoubtedly wary and suspicious."

"Then we must move to scuttle all connections to Damask Holdings." It was the helmeted, imposingly tall Darth Jadus speaking now. He sat on Ruin's left, observing his holographic subordinate. "Salvage what can be salvaged – everything else is to be scrubbed of anything useful. This cannot be traced back to us. At all. We are not yet ready to reignite the war."

"I concur," said Malak, "are we all agreed?"

"Aye."

Bane now addressed Sidious's hologram.

"So it shall be. You are to do as Jadus has outlined. If you are successful in evading discovery, you will take full control over your Master's directorate. If you are found; you are on your own, if we do not decide to have you removed. Do you understand?"

Sidious bowed.

"Assuredly clear. I have already taken the liberty of enacting countermeasures to distract the Jedi, but they will take a short amount of time to come to fruition. My next report will come once I have ensured I am completely in the clear. And no sooner."

"Splendid, you are dismissed."

As the hologram flickered and died, Bane stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Excellent initiative, that one," commented Ruin, "He will go far, I think. If he survives the mission."

"Of course he will go far," responded Bane, "that is why I do not trust him. Next item. Darth Tempest; your report on the Antilles Stratagem."

He addressed the only holographic trustee. Darth Tempest sat on Occlus's left; tall and imposing, clad in heavy, dark armour with a silver-visored helmet that would have reflected the whole room had the hologram been capable.

"Proceeding as designed. Not a great deal to report really, as usual."

"Things may well become more interesting for you, as it happens," spoke up Belia Darzu from between Tempest and Phobos. She was imposing, muscled, but slender and tanned. She dressed oddly, even for a Sith; a sleeveless indigo bodysuit, sandy gloves and a waistcoat. She also wore a brown open helmet and a back… harness for want of a better word, from which hung what was usually referred to as an excess of weapons. Lightsaber hilts, daggers, blasters, even a few outright swords and axes. There were more on her belt. Unsurprisingly, she chose to lean forward in her throne.

"Why would that be?"

"My little helper has told me that a padawan is being sent undercover on the estate to investigate some transmissions they intercepted. They weren't able to decrypt anything, but they know something's up. They've no idea exactly what is up, though."

"Well, that can be dealt with easily," said Githany. "Identify them, kill them and dump 'em in the river while making it look like a freak accident." She glanced at Darzu. "Can your informant get rid of everything they intercepted?"

"Not without exposing themself."

"Pity," Githany muttered, "Wish you wouldn't insist on concealing who it is to us – that's a resource we could all benefit from."

"Deal with it," Darzu replied brusquely. "It's my trump card. I'll hand it over when you bare yours."

"I see," said Tempest, "I'll be keeping a look out for this interloper, whoever they are. Once they set foot on this estate; they'll be as good as dead with The Order none the wiser."