"If you can ensure your end of the deal, I'll be sure to reward you handsomely. I'm counting on you to prove yourself as a future governor."
"You can count on me, my Lord."
The communication ended, eliciting a small, satisfied smile from Dooku. Despite his usual composure, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. At last, after so many years of groveling, he was near true power, without a real challenger.
Things seemed almost too easy.
But the Force was telling him to keep going, and that luck only smiled on the brave.
So, even if it was an elaborate ploy of Sidious faking his own death to test loyalties, he was willing to take the risk.
They had just emerged from hyperspace. The journey hadn't been easy but fortunately secured by the pathway Sidious had provided a few months earlier. The old fool had planned for Dooku to intervene much later, but he was in command now, and he would not give the Republic and the Jedi time to reorganize.
He could feel a deep satisfaction of lording over Coruscant while the first warheads tested the planetary defenses that would soon fall. The full might of the CIS Army was there: countless warships, including several Providence-class destroyers such as the infamous Malevolence and their newer Invisible Hand.
A new order would soon arise.
But first, there were things that needed to be cleaned. By fire and destruction.
Their fighters had already deployed to engage the GAR ships currently stationed in orbit. Dooku was more of a political leader and a duelist than a military leader, but he understood the art of war. He knew he was in a powerful position to take what was rightfully his. While he still feared it was a trap, Dooku hadn't hesitated long to take his army to a full confrontation. If the CIS didn't act as soon as possible, chances were they soon find themselves at a disadvantage.
Because there was a mysterious third party that had upset the power balance.
One of his agents on site had confirmed the presence of the artifact he coveted. All he had to do now was seize it to guarantee, at last, his unchallenged domination of the galaxy.
But if Dooku wanted to succeed, he still had to be careful, and not rush things. His beating heart whispered there was still danger. He wouldn't fail so close to the end.
He raised a finger delicately, keeping his hand placed on his armrest. "Ventress, dear."
"Yes, my Lord?" Ventress waited, motionless, behind his armchair.
Outwardly calm and collected, Dooku clearly sensed in the Force her eagerness to take action. "We've talked about this at length, you know what you have to do. I expect nothing less than success."
"I won't disappoint you, my Master," answered Ventress, while bowing. Dooku enjoyed these demonstrations of submission. He had missed it during his years as a Jedi. After all, beings were not equal, and it was crucial for order in the Galaxy that everyone knew their place.
]o[
The tactical display showed the extreme complexity of the battle. Depa was trained to pick out relevant information, but she still needed her officers to pre-select what was useful to highlight.
The large transparisteel windows gave them an unobstructed view of the system and the battle that had just begun beneath their feet.
Their army was facing an enemy tide whose numbers were hard to estimate. Dreadnoughts, destroyers and battleships were the most prominent elements, and they masked the real number of units they would have to fight. It seemed the enemy army was playing for all it was worth in this battle; she was seeing, for the first time, the full might of CIS military power.
The Malevolence. The Invisible Hand. They were facing Grievous, Ventress, and the like. From what she knew of the enemy ships and their generals, it seemed they were all there.
"I feel like I've been fooled all these months," Depa said, bitterly.
Gray gave her a concerned look. "Indeed, what we're seeing here doesn't match up with what we knew about their military capability."
Yet another argument this entire war had been engineered, as Mace had told her. Depa now felt the particular despair of playing a game in which you knew your opponent had cheated and wasn't playing by the same rules, and which you were forced to play, anyway.
The stationed army and the orbital defenses had arranged themselves quickly to put up a united front against the attacker, but they had lost precious time and were already suffering heavy losses.
Depa had one aim: hold the line, and keep the mobile defense organized.
The enemy army had emerged from hyperspace via the deep core, whose peculiarities were supposed to prohibit hyperspace flight. Grievous and Dooku must have had secret coordinates to fool the surveillance systems and lookouts set up on the usual routes.
Depa took a fortifying breath. She had her men, she had her brothers and sisters; they would make sure that all was not lost, even if defeat awaited them.
But Depa was worried about her men, and particularly about the Clones who hadn't had their chip removed. A few officers, including Gray, had benefited from the surgery, but the vast majority of their ranks had not. This gave Depa the impression of having to fight with a weapon liable to jam at any moment.
But these fears didn't help her, and she had to deal with the possibility, anyway.
Her strategic decisions were supported by the regular information provided by Mace's on-planet team; who was their main liaison. Sometimes, they had vague updates and instructions coming from the Chancellor's team, but they were sometimes contradictory, and Depa found it easier not to prioritize them.
The time for politics was over. If she had to suffer the consequences, she'd do it gladly if it meant surviving this battle.
The numbers weren't good. They were clearly outgunned in terms of firepower for the fleet itself, but Coruscant had a substantial number of defense turrets, whose action could be coordinated with their own movement to hold a line of defense.
Depa had one hope: that the army still en route could join them. According to the most optimistic estimates, they would have to hold out for a few more hours if they were to improve their chances. Depa was trying not to linger on the fact that this would probably not be enough to change radically the course of the battle.
But the Force was with them, and they would not—could not—give up.
"General, our fighters are putting up adequate resistance, but the enemy seems intent on deploying a multitude of solo fighters. Their targets are still unclear."
"Enemy fighters must not leave the perimeter. We must hold the line, so no wild chase for glory, understood? Make sure the turrets are properly protected."
Most of the units deployed were clones, and Depa wasn't too worried about their ability to follow orders. She was more concerned about the tendency of some regular soldiers to believe themselves above orders and rules. A single hothead could disrupt a line and open the breach.
This meant not responding to provocations, and sacrificing buildings and resources that were unfortunately too far from the chosen perimeter. To defend a planet, you had to put the thickest possible wall between the last defenses and the enemy fleet. But Grievous would not stand idly by. He was bound to send out squads to bypass the defenses and try to break through.
For all Depa knew, there were probably undercover or stealth units that had already crossed their lines, or bypassed the planet. But that wasn't her problem. There were men and women stationed elsewhere on the planet who would do their best to protect what they could. Depa had to hold the line.
To the end of the night if necessary.
]o[
Obi-Wan led Fett to his quarters. He had some equipment to pick up before going into battle. Walking with a confident, purposeful step, he left his coat billowing behind him, not bothering to keep the flaps of his robe against him.
Not bothering to keep a low profile, as was the rule until now.
As he walked, his mind began descending into the pre-battle calm. It was a kind of cuttingly clear consciousness, totally focused on the present, untroubled by worries, doubts, and unanswered questions.
Obi-Wan couldn't afford to have doubts. Not anymore.
The corridors of the Temple vibrated with activity. No one was asleep. And while fatigue could be seen on everyone's faces, it was above all nervous anxiety that showed in the Jedi's expressions.
Obi-Wan could see, behind the semblance of organization and purpose, the confusion and fear that reigned in people's minds. War was, for many, a reality that was not meant to come to their doorstep. A significant proportion of Jedi had already been deployed to the front, but the battlefields had mostly been in remote regions of the Galaxy.
The non-combatant Jedi, who made up a large proportion of the Temple's workforce, had never really come face to face with that reality.
Most were too preoccupied to really register the pair's presence, but all stepped aside as they passed. Not once did Obi-Wan have to deviate or slow his pace. Fett turned out to be surprisingly obedient, keeping silent almost all the way to Obi-Wan's quarters.
But when they were alone in their portion of the corridor, Fett said, "What do you intend to do? You can't do anything against an entire army. Hell, even the Clones aren't truly on your side, Jedi."
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth but didn't answer. If he'd had any doubts about Fett's lack of knowledge of the clones' true purpose, he had none now.
"The Jedi are doomed to disappear," Fett continued, "and I fail to see how you can avoid the fate that now awaits you."
The enemy was indeed at the gates of the Temple, and Coruscant's defenses would not hold much longer. The prospects weren't good. Obi-Wan had decades of strategic experience to fall back on when estimating the odds of victory. As they were, Coruscant's defenses were far too outclassed in the aspects that mattered to hope to turn the tables.
Unless he played his cards right.
"I have arguments," Obi-Wan said.
His skills. His knowledge. The key to Exegol.
Fett eyed him and sneered, "Do you think you're powerful enough to prevent him from taking what interests him by force? With the resources he has at his disposal? He came with his whole army."
They had almost reached their destination. The darkened corridor was now mostly empty.
"Palpatine had Dooku on a leash. Now that he's his own master, Dooku wants to consolidate his freedom. He must make sure that nothing and no one can threaten his power." Obi-Wan placed a hand on the key he had carefully slipped into the inside pocket of his tabard. "And to do that, he's going to have to confront me. And that's where I'm going to need your help."
Fett stopped, and said, "Of course, you fucking do. But I won't help you; I hate you."
Obi-Wan considered him for a few seconds. "You want your freedom."
Fett didn't answer. But it was as clear as day.
Obi-Wan said, "You're still as much a slave as your poor clones." As expected, his words solicited a rage echoing in the Force–burning, violent–hidden behind the Mando's mask of fake indifference. "The only difference is that you choose to remain as such."
"Be careful of what you say." Fett stood, motionless, his dark gaze locked on him.
"Boba. Your son. Is he a slave, too?"
"Stop saying his name, you have no right!" Fury distorted Fett's features, and despite his hands clasped behind his back, he lunged suddenly at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan side-stepped, and in the same movement, extended a foot to trip him. Fett toppled forward, using his inertia to perform a perfect roll, and began to run away. Even shackled, he moved with precise grace.
But Obi-Wan didn't let him get away. He jumped, grabbed him by the shoulder, and tackled him to the wall with his forearm, using the Force to increase his strength.
"Then it's time to act like a father, and take responsibility. If you no longer wish to be a slave, then it's time to break your chains. Or strike down the one on the other end."
"Jedi scum. You've taken everything from me."
"And that gives you the right to do the same to other innocent people? At what point will you finally move on? You wanted a son, but for what reason? Do you think it's fair to impose your fights on him?"
Obi-Wan could feel the inner battle raging inside the bounty hunter. Jango Fett's entire life was indeed yet another tragedy in the Sith's machinations. Galidraan had been one of the historic turning points. Dooku, Fett, the Haat'Mando'ade. Many destinies were sealed that day. A tragedy Obi-Wan had deliberately chosen to let happen.
For the greater good.
But now, Obi-Wan needed Fett and his resources to find Dooku. He needed to win him over, at least for a short while.
The Mando was seething. Obi-Wan understood he was having trouble bringing himself to listen to a Jedi, but it was too important to let him go. He eased his hold.
"It's not too late to find freedom. I know you think I can't do anything against him, but I killed his master. The one he was afraid of. I can beat him. But I'm going to need every advantage I can get."
"I just want Boba to be safe. If I stand up to Dooku, he'll use my son against me."
"I will do everything in my power to keep your son out of Dooku's reach."
Fett didn't believe him. Obi-Wan could see it in the resignation in his eyes, behind the anger that was still very much there. But he had no choice but to yield. Fett sighed, and whispered, "What do you want me to do?"
Obi-Wan shoved his prisoner through the open door of his apartment and followed him in. The door slammed behind them. Obi-Wan took a deep breath that allowed him to absorb the familiar, reassuring scent. These walls had been his home for some years, and though he had tried to avoid becoming emotionally invested in them, they bore the imprint of who he was. Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-W–
And he needed to center himself.
With the tension that had invaded his mind, it was as if he could hear Old Ben whispering, mostly unintelligibly. Now and then, a precise thought would come to him, commenting on his actions and decisions. This morning's loss of consciousness was probably just one symptom of the Soul-Kyber's weakening, and Obi-Wan knew things would inevitably get worse in the following hours.
Fett slumped into Obi-Wan's chair, without bothering to ask permission, eyeing him with an eye both curious and resigned.
Obi-Wan bent down to access his nestled trunk under his bed. There he found his second lightsaber, the one he used against Sidious. He attached it to his belt alongside his official Archivist lightsaber, and added a blaster for good measure. Obi-Wan, despite his intentions, had a propensity for losing his weapons in the heat of battle, and it was best to be prepared for all eventualities.
Also in the trunk was his battle gear. A reinforced tabard, vambraces, and pauldrons, unequivocally similar to what Old Ben had been accustomed to wearing when he had served as High General for the Republic.
For him, going to war meant wearing armor.
Next, Obi-Wan opened the small lead box containing his supply of kyber crystals. He couldn't take them all, at the risk of rendering them unusable because of parasitic resonance. He completed the bracelet, and placed three more in his utility belt. Some bacta patches were added to the lot. Finally, he straightened up, and gently placed Fett's comm and the Wayfinder on the low table, setting his eyes on the bounty hunter.
"We have some calls to make."
]o[
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand what you expect us to do."
"Did I say the wrong thing? It's quite clear. We need the Coruscant Guards to be ready to act to control the population's rebellious impulses."
"We need to... monitor the population?" Fox couldn't wrap his mind around that. Slightly taller than Fox, the man had a face with sharp features. Fox had already had occasion to deal with him on several occasions, but never had he had such a strong impression of contempt.
The man stretched his lips, but it was more a grimace than a smile. "We have to make sure that calm prevails, so as not to hinder the action of the authorities and avoid looting. I think you can fulfil this simple mission."
A part of Fox could understand the logic behind her words, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear. He'd expected to have to prepare for ground combat, against enemy troops, not the populace.
"No disrespect, sir, but our mission is to protect the Chancellor."
"CorSec is already taking care of that. The Chancellor and his security council have already reached the emergency bunker. There's no point in leaving your men around."
"Agreed, but we need a liaison with the Chancellor. CorSec doesn't have our military experience and training, it would appear."
"I'm getting tired of having to justify my orders, Commander. Chancellor Ameda has decided, and it's up to me to coordinate the ground defense."
Fox slowly counted to three in his mind before saying, "Perhaps we'd be more useful against the invader. We could link up with the army and the Jedi to coordinate on the ground."
"You know, if we're in this mess, it's the Jedi's fault. After all, it was because of one of their own that we lost Palpatine."
"Palpatine was an enemy of the Republic. He was a dark Force user."
Tarkin made a derogatory gesture. "Yes, that's what I'm saying, it's all a bit the same, and it's because the Jedi don't know how to control their own that ordinary citizens have to suffer for their mistakes."
Fox didn't even know how to react. It was the first time he'd heard such blatant distrust directed at the Jedi. Perhaps Tarkin was a victim of the disinformation campaign that was raging, or he had more nefarious purposes. He sensed Tarkin had no intention of being swayed. Tarkin's piercing blue gaze was polar, unkind. "I didn't ask your opinion, and I don't care what your preferences are, Commander. I'm your superior officer, and if you don't want to risk a decommissioning for insubordination, you and your men had better comply immediately. Is that clear?"
Fox felt his face freeze into the blank expression it had served him so well on Kamino, when he'd had to pretend that it didn't matter how he was being treated. "Perfectly clear, Sir." It was indeed perfectly clear that one had to choose one's loyalties. Now.
"Good, dismissed."
Mechanically Fox saluted, before turning to leave the room. Like the good little puppet he was.
Inwardly, though, he was boiling with rage.
This was it.
One insult too many. It was high time to win the freedom for which they had never been destined.
And even if he had to die for it, he'd do it gladly.
]o[
Anakin consulted his chrono, pacing back and forth in their living room, desperately waiting for news from Mace. Ahsoka was sitting on the sofa, facing the bay window that gave them an unobstructed view of the battle.
She was biting her nails, full of the same nervous energy Anakin was feeling.
Before storming off to manage the battle with the Council, Mace had told them that they would probably need to evacuate at some point. And that they needed to be ready.
But Anakin didn't want to evacuate, with the children and those unable to fight.
He wanted to join the battle, with the other Jedi Knights. He was no longer a child, and it was high time he joined the others in defending the Jedi Order.
Anakin was willing to wait for Mace's orders, but he already knew, deep down, that he wouldn't obey if Mace ordered him to stay with the other youngsters. "There's no way I'm running away," he grumbled under his breath.
But Ahsoka, with her keen hearing, had heard. "You planning to disobey, really, Skyguy?" she said, frowning.
Ankin didn't answer immediately. He didn't feel like saying out loud that he had every intention of going into battle, permission or not. Ahsoka was looking at him with an almost... eager air, as if she too simply wanted the right incentive not to stand by, doing nothing, while her Master went off to fight in a battle that was all but lost in advance.
"Do we have the luxury of standing by and doing nothing, Snips?" said Anakin, agitated. "We could make a difference."
Ahsoka stood up and hopped over to the bay window, pressing her nose against the glass. They'd turned off almost all the lights in the apartment so they could better see what was going on outside. Staying in the dark was almost reassuring, with those several thousand enemies hovering over their heads, just waiting to rain down on them.
The bigger ships were clearly visible. Out of the planet's shadow, they were silhouetted in the sunlight, their graceful forms shining like thousands of moons.
"Master Depa...," Ahsoka sighed. Anakin went over to her and put an arm around her shoulders, trying as best he could to bring her comfort, even though he himself was worried sick. This situation was driving him mad.
He had to do something. Anything.
And, as if the Force had heard his prayer, his comm suddenly beeped. Ahsoka looked around curiously and said: "Is that Mace? What's he saying?"
Anakin furrowed his brow.
It wasn't Mace.
"It's Obi-Wan. He says he needs me for something important."
"Who's that guy? And why does he need you right now?"
]o[
"What do you mean, you don't know where the Chancellor is?" asked Mace to the comm, suddenly very worried. He had stepped aside so as not to interfere with the frenetic discussions of the tactical team. Their attention was essentially focused on the battle being fought by Depa.
"His protection is provided by CorSec." Fox's voice was crisp, almost mechanical, and Mace knew Fox was really pissed. "Tarkin claims to have the authority to coordinate defense, and we have a…memo from the Chancellor's office to guarantee legitimacy."
"A memo?" Mace closed his eyes, fighting his headache. "A kriffing memo? We need functional communication with the strategic center! Hold on, commander." Putting the comm on hold, he asked Kit, "Do we have a Jedi in the Chancellor's entourage?"
The Nautolan shook his head. "Amedda dismissed everyone today. Either he had a paranoid attack or…" Kit trailed off, and then added, whispering, "He knew what was coming."
Mace breathed carefully. Force. It made sense. It had been years since lies had been told at the highest levels of government. And today, loyalties were finally being made transparent.
The more the hours passed, the more Mace felt his kind had to make a sacrifice that made no sense.
"Careful, now isn't the time to speak of those things." He didn't feel like talking about treason, but the values for which the Jedi had given their lives for centuries were clearly being flouted by those who had their loyalty. "We have to find the Chancellor and force a liaison on him. We can't afford to run blind on this." Mace re-established communication with Fox, "Commander, I'll send you a team. Your priority is to find the Chancellor. I'll answer to CorSec and the Chancellery if I have to."
"...Understood, Sir. Who can I expect?"
"I'll send Master Vos over. His specialty is finding things. And people."
]o[
Quinlan stepped out into the cool night air. The atmosphere was oddly muted, apart from the flashes of light coming from Coruscant's orbital space. A lot of transports and aircraft had ventured outside, not respecting the regulated lanes, probably in a hurry to get to safety. Which meant getting out of the planet as soon as possible. Corries patrolled the vicinity, ensuring that chaos remained manageable.
Quinlan had been diverted from his original aim of finding Obi-Wan. Mace wanted him to find the Chancellor, and as quickly as possible. Quinlan had to check the various bunkers in the surrounding districts to pinpoint the Chancellor's position.
While it wasn't very smart to put the entire Command in one place, at least it wasn't in a well-known and identifiable building like the Senate. The command center couldn't be far away; because, to win a war, you had to ensure reliable communication means, and distance could jeopardize them.
Coruscant's defenses were up to the very best, but they would not withstand a powerful, continuous assault. It was quite possible that they would fail in the night, if the Defense Fleet failed to resist.
And the inhabitants had understood this.
Coruscantians, in all their diversity, were equal in the fear they were experiencing. Senate's district was one of the most upscale places on the planet–and on the galaxy–, and its residents had a lot to lose in a conflict of this kind. Though, not necessarily from the enemy up there.
One family had docked their personal starship in the middle of the street to facilitate the load of their belongings, scolding their household staff for not going fast enough. Their damn ship obstructed the way, forcing Quinlan and the other passers-by to go around it.
Other similar scenes were taking place in different parts of the neighborhood, privilege flaunted even at dire times like this. They were going to leave Coruscant because they could afford to.
All experienced the fear, but the true despair remained the sole preserve of the poor and destitute.
But now was not the time to lament about those realities. His priority was to locate the interim Chancellor, and update the Jedi on his position so they could act if necessary.
Of course.
His comm biped. "This is Commander Fox. General Vos, the Chancellor has acted without bringing the Coruscant Guards into the loop. We don't know about his precise location." Despite the transmission interference, Quinlan could clearly make out the silent anger in the Commander's words.
"Didn't any of your men see anything?"
"Negative. If the Chancellor came out of the Senate, he didn't come out through the usual doors."
"Understood, I'm on my way."
Quinlan quickly reached the Senate doors. The building was crowned by a huge, flattened dome, which hid the sky from him. Despite the ambient light of the night lighting, the flashes of energy fire from the battle raging above their heads were clearly visible.
It had been about twenty minutes since their defense fleet had been engaged by the Separatist army, and it was still difficult to predict how things would develop from here.
At this time of night, the Senate was relatively empty, as sessions were usually only scheduled during the day. This didn't mean it was completely devoid of life, but it would be easier to navigate its meanders without its usual crowds to slow down its movements. A few politicians and their aids were hurrying through the corridors, their arms full of documents, fear written across their features.
Quinlan was going against the flow, with long, purposeful strides, never deviating from his course. The few people he passed gave him glances that barely registered his presence, too preoccupied with the circumstances to question his reasons for being there.
Eventually, he reached Amedda's office. No one was guarding the entrance, and the corridor was empty. The room had been left in a haphazard state: piles of datapads were toppled over, with pieces of flimsi littering the floor. While this room was not as luxurious and vast as Palpatine's, many symbols of wealth and power were still on display.
The two men must have got on well together, and Quinlan wondered about their relationship. Perhaps Amedda had known more about Palpatine's true nature than the Jedi had suspected? If so, they had probably made a mistake in letting the Vice-Chancellor seize power for those short days.
Quinlan had to get his hands on this man, and fast. He consulted his datapad, on which he had uploaded extensive plans of the Senate and surrounding area, and highlighted secret passages and back doors. The Jedi had been collecting useful information for centuries. Now it was time to use it.