Chapter 132
Vicky:
She knew, before her boots even landed on the hangar bay floor, that Taylor wasn’t on the ship.
Vicky felt cold then; a sickly, queasy sort of chill that seemed to come from the inside as clones disembarked from the gunships and shuttles all around her.
She turned away, towards the shielded hangar bay doors where ships were still pouring in. Marching towards it, she looked down towards the now burning Yavin moon, to the glimmering sparks that were the lights of the incoming craft, all but willing herself to find her through the skein of the Force itself.
“Please. Please. Please.”
The word repeated like a mantra in her own mind, begging anything that would listen. Whether she was asking for Taylor to arrive, or for her own senses to cooperate and find Taylor, she wasn’t even sure by the end.
In what felt like no time at all, the alarm began to blare, warning lights flaring bright orange as they strobed like ambulance lights all around them.
And the hangar bay doors began to close.
Vicky’s eyes widened, her insides seizing up. She lurched forward, towards the ray shield, reason warring with instinct before someone stood in her way, grabbing hold of her arms at the biceps.
“Dallon, you can’t!”
She looked up, finding Aras. His expression was grim but mournful, as if apologizing.
She struggled to breathe, incapable of getting enough air in her lungs no matter how much she tried to suck down.
Her fingers tightened over Aras’ vambraces where she grabbed them, the beskar denting with the imprint of fingertips.
And then the colossal doors slammed shut, and the Negotiator accelerated so fast men were thrown off their feet as the vessel began to move.
Vicky felt the strength in her legs give out, collapsing to the floor. Aras followed her down, kneeling with her as his arms stayed at her shoulders.
She swallowed down the tears, forced down the despair, and reached, her fingers grasping at that thing, that gossamer thin thread that connected her to Taylor, the bond that was still there as long as she was alive.
“Please…”
“Please…”
“Please…”
—
Maul:
Maul had been trying to determine how to bypass the hangar bay lockdown when the doors, inexplicably, opened once again, shielding stopping the whole chamber from being vented out into space.
Did he suspect a trap? Of course he did, but he took his chance anyway, slipping between the shadows to leap into a hyperspace capable shuttle before he powered it up.
There were no clones, no automated defenses, but as he flew out of the hangar bay and beheld the chaos of the battle around him, Maul understood why Kenobi likely had his hands full.
Fire crisscrossed the void between capital ships as hull plating exploded, leaving horrid scars on their vessels. Shards of durasteel, transparisteel and still sparking wires floated like flotsam in space, a man-made debris field that he now navigated through.
Fighters and bombers burst in starlight fireballs before being swallowed up by the lack of oxygen.
Maul darted and weaved between the two fighting forces, all but bull rushing through them back down towards the planet.
“Savage!” He called into their personal channel. “Savage, I-”
Then he saw it.
Maul froze and, for the first time in many, many years, what he felt was pure horror.
The Lucrehulk fell, a fiery, titanic fist descending like a promised apocalypse down to the world below.
Maul felt his breathing grow fast and harsh, opening up his static laced comlink as he spoke through a too dry throat and mouth.
“Savage… Brother… where are you?”
The crackling white noise answered him.
“SAVAGE!” He howled into the empty line.
Desperate, he reached through the Force, to the bond between him and his brother, searching, fumbling in the dark.
And then… right there, in his ephemeral grasp… that bond went cold… dead.
And then came the crash, a million tons of earth and rock exploding into the sky, fire blanketing out from the impact site like a fungal bloom, swallowing the surface of the moon around the temples completely.
And as much as he tried, as much as he reached for that connection, that bond…
It remained cold.
And Maul knew.
His brother was dead.
The assassin grit his teeth. His breathing accelerating and chest heaving, he punched the coordinates into the navcomputer, and when his shuttle escaped into the enveloping escape of hyperspace-
That’s when he screamed.
He howled out his rage, his grief and hate. The ship’s metal groaned and panels buckled as he struggled to not subconsciously rip his own ship apart in his fury.
He raged, screaming into the dark emptiness where none could hear it.
But they would feel it. On the grave of every Dathomirian, he will make them all, his Master especially, feel it.
—
Karla:
She didn’t cry.
She’d made herself unable to cry.
Because it wouldn’t change anything.
And it wouldn’t help.
So, she didn’t cry. Even as the medics took Iskt, his blood coating their armor with bright red that stood out stark against the white.
She didn’t cry, even as she had to pass through the hall choked with dead and broken bodies, shattered armor and pulped meat.
She didn’t cry even as they slipped into hyperspace and she knew, she just knew, her Master wasn’t with them, feeling her presence slipping further and further away as they fled the battle zone.
But when Miss Vicky called, her blue holo-image appearing on the bridge, the look she gave Karla, like she wanted so desperately to reach across the holo and pull the young Twi’lek into her arms…
That almost made her cry
Because she wanted Miss Vicky here too… Karla… wanted to feel safe right now.
Beside her, Master Obi-Wan stood quietly, his head bowed, waiting in silence for the Resolute to join the call.
Even the clones, as they continued with their tasks and oversaw repair procedures across the various decks of the ship, did so in an almost sepulchral silence. Like they were already mourning the dead.
When the Resolute joined the call at long last, Obi-Wan stiffened.
“Rex?” He asked.
“Sorry, sir.” The clone captain saluted. “General Skywalker… is in the med bay. I’ll deliver your message as soon as we’re done.”
“The med bay?” Ahsoka, standing beside Vicky, gasped. “What happened to Master!?”
“Medics are saying it’s exhaustion, ma’am. “
She could sense something off with the statement, something false almost threading its way through the notes of Rex’s voice.
Obi-Wan shut his eyes, taking a deep, shaking breath. “Alright… let’s… let’s proceed. Rex, how much damage did the fleet suffer?”
“Significant.” Master Anakin’s second in command answered brusquely. “The Resolute suffered damage to almost 60% of its decks. Shield generators are blown to hell, the tractor beam projectors all but burnt themselves out. Subsidiary reactors are overclocked to compensate and droids are moving through the insides to fix as much of the damage as possible, but estimates put it at nearly a week’s worth of repairs. And that’s just what can be fixed without a proper drydock. The escorts all report damages on a similar scale, 30 to 40% ship wide.
Obi-Wan turned his eyes back towards Vicky and Ahsoka. “Negotiator, you were the last to escape the system… did your instruments detect pursuit craft?”
Miss Vicky looked to Ahsoka, and the Togruta shook her head. “No, Master. My guess, Skyguy gave them a heck of a black eye. They knew better than to give chase.”
“Small blessings, at least.” Master Obi-Wan sighed.
It was then that Miss Vicky spoke up.. “I need a timetable for the hyperspace travel. I need to organize a rescue team.”
She felt Obi-Wan’s sorrow, and his trepidation, a pain in his countenance as he carefully spoke his next words.
“Victoria… There… Hebert is likely de-”
Miss Vicky shook her head, fists clenched, eyes shut. “No. No… I’d know if she was dead, Obi-Wan.”
“The loss of life on that world clouded all our senses, nothing could have survived that crash. It-”
“I’m not asking, Obi-Wan. I’m telling you,” She snarled. “I’m going. That can be with a team or hijacking a fucking fighter, or finding a way to swim there if need be. Noble is on board and already getting a ship ready. Don’t push me right now!”
Her feelings throbbed and pulsed like a living heartbeat, heat almost tingling across Karla’s senses. Obi-Wan shut his eyes, hands clasped behind his back, a man ready to weather a storm.
Trying to break the tension, Ahsoka stuttered out a question. “What happened with Grievous? And Maul? He was on board too, right?”
“Maul escaped.” Obi-Wan said, sighing. “The hangar bay doors were opened for the tractor beams. He slipped out on a hyperspace capable shuttle in the confusion. Cameras confirmed it.”
“And Grievous?” Miss Vicky’s expression twisted… deformed. Pure hatred, and that’s what Karla saw, hatred, marring her beautiful features.
Master Obi-Wan winced. “Grievous… tore his way out of the underside of the ship, a thin part of the armor near a maintenance shaft.”
“He’s not afraid of hard vacuum anymore.” Ahsoka grimaced. “That’s… new, right?”
Miss Vicky nodded. “It is. Must’ve been a recent upgrade or modification to his systems.” She turned her eyes back to Obi-Wan. “The timetable, Obi-Wan. How long are we in hyperspace?”
The Council member sighed. “If I tell you, will you please do me the courtesy of meeting with me in person once we’re out of hyperspace.”
“For you to try and talk me out of it?”
“So that you at least don’t go off half-cocked and only add to the tragedy by getting yourself killed as well! I’d rather not lose two friends today!” He snapped, patience fraying before he shut off the comlink.
His anger was… surprising, uncharacteristic, but Karla somehow didn’t find it wrong.
—
Komari:
Komari was used to anger, she was used to rage and hate.
What she wasn’t used to, was finding herself almost relishing the anger and hate of others, an overflowing font of emotion that fed the dark side like a heady cocktail. It was almost a high, a straight shot of a drug to the system.
“You… ori nu’jate beskar'ad, ures’ijaa!”
Vizsla’s voice roared through the open bridge as Mandalorian blasters were drawn and Sith lightsabers were lit, all staring down a metal monster who even now, damaged as he might have been, looked as though he fully expected himself ready and able to tear every single person arrayed in front of him to pieces with his bare metal claws. Nevermind the army of B1s, B2s and Droidekas arrayed around him.
Komari couldn’t say with full confidence that he was wrong.
“You sound so angry, Mandalorian.” The General replied. “And here I thought your people enjoyed dying in the glorious fires of war!”
She saw Ramah at her side, disruptor rifle drawing a bead dead center of that rent in Grievous’ armor, aiming for the organs within.
Could he make that shot?
She didn’t know.
Would it kill him?
At this point, with so many modifications and surgeries… she couldn’t say that for sure either.
“You dropped a Lucrehulk on us! Didn’t even give us warning. We are not your droids! We aren’t expendable!” Viszla snarled.
Grievous straightened, his full height towering over the Mandalorians, nearly twice their size, with strength that could make their beskar look like tin foil.
With one leg, it should have looked ridiculous. But the machine monster stood there, completely self assured.
“And what, I wonder, is the so-called Mandalore going to do about it?” The General laughed, clawed arm reaching up to puncture into the ceiling to let him swing himself forward.
Tellingly, many Mandalorians backed away.
Grievous leaned in close, face inches away from Viszla’s helmet visor. “Try.” The cyborg goaded. “I would love to add your… unique trophy to my collection.”
Viszla remained quiet.
Grievous turned his eyes towards the various ‘Sith’ sprinkled in amongst the crowd, turning away from Vizla as he singled them out.
“You too.” He taunted. “By all means. Spare lightsabers are more useful than… any of you.”
The hatred seethed, oozing off of the collective crowd like soap lather squeezed from a fat, bloated sponge.
But so too, did she sense the fear.
They didn’t believe they could win.
“We’re leaving.” Viszla said softly, and she could all but see him reach down, scrounging up whatever tattered remains were left of his and his clan’s dignity before he turned and marched away, leaving this, the last challenge, unmet.
He wouldn’t last much longer.
Even these last dregs, these people who were more pirate than warrior, had their limits on how much cowardice they’d tolerate.
The Mandalorian mob walked away, weapons still drawn, fingers on the triggers. Some didn’t turn at all, not trusting the cyborg at their backs.
Soon enough they’d be gone, boarding their shuttles and taking off to the next contract, the next payment that would keep them going for a little while longer.
Maybe Palpatine would give them a better deal later. Maybe he’d coax them back into the fold, promising a different commander in charge.
But as they turned to leave, she felt a hand at her elbow, her eyes drawn towards Ramah’s burgundy armor and helmet turned her way.
“Come with us.” He whispered, voice scratching out of the helmet’s speakers low enough to be a whisper.
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“He was ready to drop that thing on you too.” The Mandalorian insisted, as if she didn’t already know. As if what he was saying only just applied to Grievous and no one else. “He doesn’t care about you, not as an asset, a tool, a soldier or anything. Come with us.” He pleaded one more time.
The crowd was getting thinner now, dispersing faster and faster.
She brushed his hand off her
“I can't.” She answered, trying to speak without saying it. Trying for him to understand even through the words that couldn’t be voiced.
He stared at her, his expression hidden behind that bucket he called a helmet.
“Can’t?”
There was something in his voice, something more than a question, or maybe that was just her hopes speaking. Hope that someone might finally know the truth. That they might realize how little she could scream.
But all she could do was repeat herself.
“Can’t.”
He stared at her, his fellow Mandalorians fully dispersing now, rapidly emptying the hall.
His fist clenched.
He turned and walked away.
He didn’t say another word.
And neither did she.
—
Guelzo:
His fingers clenched over both the grip of his blaster and the hilt of his knife, standing between the General and this mob of… Sith kids.
Even if he wanted to sit, the dead Zabrak still laying across the deck plating had ripped off the pilot’s seat, so he didn’t exactly have an accommodating space.
To an outside observer, he had no doubt that the picture was more than a little ridiculous. Him just standing here, like an armored and armed sentinel towering over a bunch of seemingly terrified Sith kids.
Guelzo wasn’t even sure if that’s what they were, but he’d take no chances.
There were sixteen of them. Four boys, twelve girls.
Three of the girls looked… older, relatively at least. Fourteen, fifteen. All the others were younger. The boys, he wasn’t an expert on Zabraks but to his eye, they couldn’t be older than ten.
He’d never killed children before. He doubted he’d enjoy it.
But if any of them made a move… he was faster.
“Guelzo.”
The General’s whisper caught his attention, but he didn’t dare turn to look. “General?”
He heard her breathe a tremulous, shuddering breath. “Where are we going?”
“Krylon.” He answered. “Just punched it as soon as I could, ma’am. Once we’re out, I’ll sweep comms to find out where the fleet ran to.”
She didn’t answer, just breathed quietly.
He dared a glance at her. She was pale, leaning back into her seat, eyes closed, her fingers loosely pressed down on the metal that was goring her, blood lazily oozing out of the gash like thick syrup.
First aid kit… He needed the first aid kit.
His eyes turned towards the kids again.
He pointed his blaster.
Many of the kids cried out, whimpering, crying, screaming. Two of the Zabrak boys stood between him and the girls behind them.
“You.” He called to one of the older girls, her body pressed into the far wall, pale, frightened, but glaring at him. Putting up a brave front. “The compartment on your left.”
She swallowed, her lips thin and body shaking.
She reached, pulling open the compartment. Emergency supplies, antitoxins, medical equipment, adrenaline shots,.
“The red box.” He demanded. “Slide it across the floor.”
She reached into the open drawer, pulling free a box that was heavy for her, using both arms to pull it free before marching to the front of the group, placing down the box and shoving it.
It scraped and ground against the metal floors with a screech, falling short of him.
Guelzo reached down, leaning awkwardly as he kept his eyes looking towards them and his gun still aimed at the group, knife hand hooking the blade onto the box’s handle to finish dragging it towards him.
Carefully, he placed the knife down, undoing the latches of the box before opening it. Bandages, bacta spray, adrenal stimulators, disinfectant, bio-caps, bacta-patches and more.
He wasn’t Prachett, but he knew the basics. Disinfectant first, bacta spray and patches after. The metal stake would have to stay in, it was likely staunching the bloodloss.
Setting down his knife, he lowered his eyes and his blaster.
That’s when one of the boys pounced.
Guelzo heard him before he saw him, the sharp inhale of someone sucking down air to steel their nerves, his footstep a second later already had him bringing his eyes up, blaster rising to shoot.
The boy lunged for the dead Zabrak’s body, grasping, reaching for the double-bladed lightsaber.
He flicked it on, but Guelzo already knew the boy had almost no training.
He rushed forward, screaming his head off as Guelzo leveled his blaster with the boy’s skull.
Two shots. Quick, clean. He’d make it painless.
His fingers squeezed on the trigger, the flash of blaster fire disappearing from his retina when he saw the boy frozen in fear. The blue bolt was hovering, trembling in the air, mere millimeters from his skull.
With a sudden cry, the boy was smashed down to the ground, the air around him almost trembling.
“Next time, I’ll let him shoot you.” The General whispered the pain laced words, her eyes still closed.
Guelzo didn’t agree with her choice. A second corpse would have sent a stronger message… and nipped the problem in the bud.
The blaster bolt was let go, the blue energy splashing against the durasteel wall. Starship grade metal would easily hold against small arms like this, but the kids still screamed in fright.
Guelzo let his eyes, and gun, pass over the crowd of kids again. The Zabrak boy, still on his knees, trembled and shuddered, whimpering and hyperventilating at the close call.
As Guelzo slowly lowered his blaster to administer first aid properly, the General whispered to him, as quietly as she could.
“I’m gonna pass out.” She admitted, her voice so faint it made him genuinely afraid. ”Contact the fleet… as soon as you can. Don’t let Vicky go looking for m-”
She didn’t finish her sentence, the strength leaving her as her head fell, chin against her chest.
Guelzo took the extra step of attaching a heart monitor.
—
Vicky:
The ships exited hyperspace near the Torque system, battered, beaten, but still ‘whole’ they hadn’t lost one, though it had been by the skin of their teeth.
She agreed to meet Obi-Wan on the resolute, she wanted to be charitable and say it was because he wanted to check on Anakin. But the other part of her, the one that sounded decidedly like Taylor when she got… angry- told her that the Resolute was ‘neutral’ ground. Neither the Glory, nor the Negotiator, where either of them had ultimate command. Here, Anakin was the one his men would listen to.
And Anakin was in the med bay.
Aras was shuttling back to the Glory to take command, Noble team was following her now, as a defacto commander with Guelzo and Tay… missing.
She didn’t want to consider them backup in a violent sense, but again, that voice at the back of her head was telling her they were exactly that.
As the shuttle touched down, and the ramp opened, she stepped off, Ahsoka at her side the five remaining members of Noble team following behind the both of them. The clones of the 501rst gave sharp salutes and warm greetings in particular towards the Togruta, with a lieutenant offering to escort them to the bridge.
The resolute had taken a beating in the fleet battle, probably the hardest hammering of any vessel in the fleet. But marching the halls, you’d never know it. The Negotiator’s hallways were choked with injured and recovering men, flooded with an extra thirty thousand or so clones that had just boarded the ship in a mad scramble to get off the moon. The Glory, from what she’d heard, was clogged up with a butcher’s bill of dead bodies, courtesy of Grievous’s boarding action.
But the resolute didn’t have those issues. Its halls were pristine, and orderly. Feeling almost divorced from the… everything that was Yavin.
They made it to the bridge, around the same time that Obi-Wan and Karla did. Iskt, she already knew, was in the med bay for his injuries. She resolved to head there as soon as she was done here, before heading off to the rescue mission. None of them should ever have had to fight Grievous alone. That monster was her responsibility.
Karla’s face told Vicky exactly how much the little Twilek was trying to control herself, so, Vicky made it easier for the both of them, floating off the ground, she accelerated forward to what would be a fast running speed, reaching the girl that much faster so the Twilek could leap at her, clutching at her in a fierce, desperate hug, the tight, coiled ball of fear and anxiety uncoiling that little bit as Vicky hugged her back.
Karla was still small enough that her head was pressed into Vicky’s stomachand so, even as Vicky was able to feel the shuddering, barely there hitches in her breath that spoke of repressed sobs, Vicky’s body and robes hid them to the outside world.
She passed her hand over the girls head, feeling the Lekku twitch under her fingertips.
“Its ok baby-girl. Its ok.” She promised. “I’m here now.”
Obi-Wan, standing a little off to the side, allowed them the moment. And Vicky forcibly reminded herself that he wasn’t her enemy… he was still her friend. She didn’t have to start acting like he was gonna be Mundi come again all of a sudden.
But still, after several seconds, the moment did have to come to an end, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat.
“We should report to the Council.”
“Hoping they’ll be able to force me to stay put?” She prodded, glaring at him.
Obi-Wan sighed, then, met her glare, a steely expression on his face. She recognized the look.
The Negotiator had come out.
“Lets say, I turn this entire fleet around, right now, and we head back to Yavin. What do you think we’ll find there Victoria?” He asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Well I’ll tell you-” His voice was calm, like a cold knife finding tendons to slice. “-We’ll find, a separatist fleet still there. At best, we’ll find just the same ships we fought. At worst, reinforcements have already arrived.
“A team could slip in. Small ship, small signature, sealth protocols-”
“Oh yes. Because we have so many Stealth vessels on hand! And lets pretend you do make it down there, onto that moon. Do you think the separatists are just leaving a Lucrehulk corpse behind? Not salvaging whatever they can from it? Do you think they aren’t searching for Maul as well? That place will be swarming with droids. And what do you suppose will happen when those droids see you specifically? That Grievous will- oh so politely come down and challenge you to a one on one duel to the death?”
She winced, cringing as Obi-Wan’s voice rose a notch, his own frustration getting the better of him.
“No!” The man snapped. “He’s going to bombard you from orbit like he just tried to do once already! He’ll keep firing and keep firing until the planet is glass, or cracked or both. And then he’ll likely piss oil all over the embers to light it up again!”
“She’s Alive Obi-Wan!” Vicky screamed back at him. ““She’s alive! But I don’t know if she’s injured, or dying or captured. And I can’t just sit here and not try.”
Obi-Wan bit down on something mid sentence before it escaped him. Lips pressed together like thin lines under his beard. “Even if you’re right.”
“I am right!”
“Then the best option right now, is to report to the Council.” He pressed on. “We have shadows, fleets in reserve. Other allies we can call on, other fronts we can divert Grievous to to give a search party an opening. You going off like a hot shot corellian imbecile with a too high opinion of himself will help no one- least of all her!”
Vicky bit down, gnawing on her lower lip an internal struggle warring within her.
Then-
“General.”
Her eyes were drawn to Pratchett, the Medic Clone saluting as she turned to him. “General Kenobi’s assessment makes sense ma’am…. The Council can allocate additional resources. And if they don’t. Noble’s resources are yours to allocate until General Hebert is recovered.”
She almost smiled at the medic, feeling Obi-Wan’s flare of frustration brush across her senses.
She pulled away from Karla, her hand still brushing across the small Twi’lek’s lekku.
“Fine.” She mumbled quietly. “Lets go report and see what the Council decides.”
“Well… glad to see reports of imminent mutiny and brig confinement were greatly exaggerated.”
Ahsoka’s surprised shout betrayed her joy, and her relief. “Master!”
Anakin stood at the end of the hallway, skin wan and eyes exhausted, but definitely standing on his own two feet.
“A mutiny might still be in order.” A medic groused beside the man. “He wasn’t wearing a helmet, so everyone could see his very angry features as he turned towards Obi-Wan. “He shouldn’t even be on his feet!”
“What exactly happened?” The bearded man asked hands clasping behind his back.
The medic sneered. “If I’d been permitted to run my tests, I could tell you. As it is, the best case scenario is some sort of massive hemorrhage caused by the baro-trauma when his fighter was blown up!”
“Bonesaw, I’m fine, really.”
That was certainly a loaded name. But Vicky didn’t draw attention to it. “I’m inclined to agree Anakin. Maybe you should go back to the med wing for now.”
He nodded, and it was a testament in and of itself how exhausted he was. “I will, I promise. But… lets just talk with the Council, and I’ll head right back.”
He spoke to her more than Obi-Wan, like he was trying to reassure her specifically.
Would he argue in favor of rescuing Taylor? Pull the Council if they decided to be stubborn or too cautious or whatever?
She nodded. “Okay.”
They moved to enter the bridge, and to Victoria, she’d liken it to the feeling that must’ve been in the middle of Endbringer truces. Not that she could remember it. But this must’ve been what everyone felt during those.
Noble followed in behind her, and she kept her arm around Karla, pulling the little red twi’lek to her side.
—
It took almost seven minutes to finally contact the Council, the signal bouncing through numerous comm buoys and encrypted channels.
They didn’t find a ‘full house’ but Vicky didn’t expect to. Yoda, Yaddle, Windu, Poof and K’Kruhk were the only ones present.
Anakin gave a full accounting of the space battle, She and Obi-Wan filled in what they knew about the conflict on the ground. And its conclusion.
“And, your condition, Master Skywalker?” Yaddle asked. “How was it you were injured?”
Anakin thin and very very tired, he looked like he was almost struggling to keep his eyes open. . “Oh, you know. Just some… baro-trauma that slipped past in all the excitement. I’ll be fine Master.”
If Vicky would have been calm, she might have noticed the lie. As it was, it was all she could do to not brusquely brush past… all of this. “I’d like to organize a rescue effort as soon as possible.”
“Rescue?” Windu asked. “Or… recovery?”
“Rescue” She bit out. “She isn’t dead.”
“Correct, I believe, Master Dallon is.” Yoda answered. “However… difficult our position now becomes.”
Anger, white hot and fierce flashed through her insides. “The hell is so complicated!? Tay’s alive, she needs help. I shouldn’t have to be arguing for a rescue!”
Windu turned his eyes to Yoda, but the old green Master didn’t even look his way.
The man sighed. “I did not wish to discuss this on an open channel… But. The Council has activated the Tython Protocol.”
It was like dunking her anger in ice cold water, shock overtaking her, Obi-Wan straightened in his seat and even Anakin looked like fresh life had been breathed into him all of a sudden.
“I- This is certain?” Obi-Wan asked. Wording it carefully. “Absolutely certain?!”
Windu nodded.
The Tython protocol…
The Council… They found the Sith.
“Given the nature of the developments.” Windu continued, again, carefully. Just who was the Sith that they had the Council stepping on eggshells like this? “We’re recalling all Council members, and several key Masters from their missions for a new front.” He hedged. “These circumstances… make it difficult to send a Master that would be sufficiently capable of assisting you in your efforts.”
“The Tython protocol can only be enacted if the front that’s about to be opened is of paramount importance.” Obi-Wan’s voice slipped into practiced, casual indifference. A lie. Of course. But he got the impression, just like Vicky had, that the Council thought the Sith could intercept this. “Has the Chancellor been informed?”
A flicker of something passed through Windu’s expression.
“We’re deciding what to share with the Chancellor’s office.” He answered after a long moment. “Rest assured, Palpatine will be informed when the time is right.”
Vicky shook her head, refocusing. “I… understand the importance of the Tython protocol.” She said. “But I’m not leaving without Taylor. If This council won’t help, then I’ll just-”
“Will not help, we did not say.” Yoda answered, stamping his stick on the ground. “Difficult, we said it would be.”
Vicky shut her eyes, willing herself to be patient. “Just… cut to the chase. What can the Council send and how soon can it be sent!?”
Yoda turned to Poof, who bowed his head.
“A Jedi Strike team. Shadows, and temple guard both can be sent. We would grant them access to a IPV-2C Stealth Corvette, for the purposes of this mission. They can be led by Master K’khruk.”
The large Whiphid nodded. “We can leave today. The Corvette is fast and light. It can arrive in the Yavin system in seventeen hours.”
Seventeen hours…
Not even a full day.
And it still felt like much too long.
“The 707th are still under your command.” Windu said.
“And Noble.”
It was Cid who spoke, the Council’s eyes turning towards the Clone lingering towards the back of the room with his brothers. “Say again trooper?” Windu asked.
“Noble is under General Dallon’s command.” The assault specialist repeated. “Until General Hebert is found.
Windu didn’t do more than stare, seemingly chewing on something he didn’t quite like before turning back to Victoria. “If you choose to use them… or Noble in this effort this Council will not contest you. But… we may not be able to send additional clone units.”
“Why not?” Anakin asked, eyes narrowing. “Will the new front opened by the Tython protocol require that much manpower? Is it another Geonosis situation?”
“I will not say on a potentially unsecure channel.” Windu answered immediately. “But it isn’t impossible that we need as many… legions as possible”
Legions… it was the first time that Vicky had ever heard Windu address the Clones that way. Was that a clue of some kind? A hint?
God fucking damnit. Of all the times they had to find the Sith it was the one time she wanted to bring everything down on a planet and crack it open like an egg to find-
There was a sudden banging on the door, and all of them startled as it whooshed open, a Clone barging into the chamber.
“This is a sealed communication trooper you’d better have a damn good reason for-”
“Sir!” The clone gasped holding up a dataslate, he was smiling as he looked to Vicky. “We got her sir!”
Vicky didn’t know that relief could make her cry faster than any tragedy.
—
It took three and a half hours to rendezvous with the shuttle.
Where the hell they got a shuttle, or why it was filled with a gaggle of kids, or why there was a dead Zabrak, Vicky didn’t know, and she didn’t care.
When the Clones pulled her out, on a stretcher, carrying her down the ramp, Vicky almost cried again at the sight of the iron stake goring her side.
Guelzo’s brothers gave him hugs, jeering teasingly and cheering as the ‘Big Brother who saved the General’
The men cheered.
Taylor’s eyes opened, struggling to do so, but she smiled at Vicky through the oxygen mask.
“Hey.” She croaked weakly.
Vicky reached for her hand, near limp fingers trying to return her grip.
“You bitch.” Vicky’s laugh was watery. “If you ever scare me like that again- I want a divorce!”
Tay smiled again. “You’ve had it good. Only one near death per-decade.”
“Every other decade!” She mock protested, walking beside the stretcher.
Tay nodded. “Okay… every other decade.”
The Clones hurried to the medbay, Vicky floated behind them, letting them hurry. She had enough experience with Amy and Doctors to know that family, as well meaning as they were, just got in the way.
Everything else could be handled later. The return to Coruscant, the reveal of whoever the Sith master was, why the Council was recalling everyone. Why they were so spooked, helping Iskt and Karla.The… freaking Kindergarten class Taylor had seemingly pulled out of her ass Everything.
Vicky wasn’t sure if it was the Force, or some other God that had answered her desperate pleas, but whatever it had been she couldn’t help but thank it from the bottom of her heart.
Tomorrow… was another day, one that they could face together like they always had.
—
Windu
As the call was cut abruptly short, because Hebert had seemingly managed to get off planet somehow. Windu couldn’t help but sigh in relief.
Hebert, needed to be rescued. Not just because of her usefulness of course, but because yes, she was a Jedi and they didn’t abandon their own.
But right now-the Force whispered in his ear, now more incessantly, as though the veil had finally been lifted with the reveal of the Sith’s identity- He knew that any move would be noticed. And the first party to make a mistake… would lose.
One of them, was a mere two turns away from checkmate on the Dejarik board, and Windu felt, very keenly, that his side was the one losing.
After all… He controls the Senate… and the courts.
(X)(X)(X)
I apologize for the delay, but there was a massive power blackout that knocked out electricity for 48 hours here, so I couldn't do any writing at all.
But still, now that that's over with-
That's right ladies and gents.
The important development you've all been waiting for!
The Mando's get humiliated again!
In all seriousness, YES. The Jedi know exactly who the Sith is >:)How this relates to the battle, how the Jedi found out, Why they haven't gone in guns blazing, everything ell be made clear NEXT chapter, once our girls and friends return home.
What their next moves are, and what Palpatine's next moves are, you'll all have to wait and see.
But we're in the End Game now... and the End Game is terrifying >:3
Join us on discord if you want to chat about possibilities and theory craft with others and I'll see you all next week :D