Sublight Drive (Star Wars)

Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Coruscant, Coruscant System

Corusca Sector

“There is a Dark Lord of the Sith in the Republic,” said Jedi Master Adi Gallia.

The statement was so factually spoken, Barriss still found herself stunned even though she already knew it, not to mention Bode’s locked jaw and Iskat’s wide eyed response. There is a Sith Lord in the Republic. The Jedi Master made the unthinkable declaration as naturally as one would say the galaxy is vast, or that stars are bright.

“There is a Dark Lord of the Sith in the Republic,” the Jedi Master repeated, as if to fully hammer its meaning and implications into their skulls, “And they are orchestrating the downfall of the Republic using this war. One must not need to be Givin or Muun to realise we are sliding down a precarious slope. This little task force I have prepared… will attempt to bring our mysterious villain to light.”

“H-How can that be?” Iskat Akaris took a half-step back–or a full step in human terms, considering the length of her stride, “Is that why you have gathered us? With all due respect, Master Gallia, but I don’t think I belong here. Bode and Barriss have fought in the war… and I’m hardly even a knight! I’ve only been on one mission since Geonosis… and apparently I screwed it up so badly I had been blacklisted from any other offworld mission since then!”

Iskat’s tone started with surprise, then morphed into trepidation. Not out of humbleness, but out of a lack of self-worth. Barriss had little skills with combat, but as a medic she was a talented empath, and once being in the same shoes as the red-skinned alien, she had little trouble identifying Iskat’s tumultuous emotions. But there was another hint of colour Barriss noticed. It was one of biting derision, and bitter contempt, against a perceived injustice carried out against oneself.

The thorns of the dark side tightened around Iskat Akaris’ heart just a little more.

“Do you still disagree with the Council’s decision?” Adi Gallia raised an eyebrow, edging the incensed Knight on, “If I recall correctly, Iskat, your mission was to infiltrate and sabotage a droid factory on Thule. Three Jedi Knights, and a company of clone troopers. A more than adequate task force. Infiltrate and sabotage. Instead, Iskat, you got your senior Knight killed, you blew up the factory, killing over a dozen civilians, and had the gall to report to us with a ‘job well done’ on your lips.”

Iskat released a guttural, beastly growl, “Infiltrate and sabotage. You were the one who gave us the mission, Master Gallia. I should have realised that all the rumours about you were true, then. And still, despite being the Order’s spymaster, you gave us faulty intel. Your intel got our leader killed, and your intel forced me to improvise. The nature of our mission was to disable the factory from the start. I did just that.”

“Not in the intended way.”

“I don’t believe you are one to put the end over the means,” Iskat snarled. Anger and shame wrapped around her; like she’d done something wrong and had to explain it to someone who’d already formed an opinion and was unlikely to change it no matter how well she argued her point of view.

“She definitely isn’t…” Bode whispered conspiratorially into Barriss’ ear, eyes twinkling with personal experience.

“I was then,” Master Gallia’s lips curled, “I am not now. Funny how people change.”

If Iskat had been taken aback by the admission, she did not show it, “That’s not very Jedi-like, from a Councilmember no less.”

“Have you not realised, Iskat?” Master Gallia spread her hands, “None of us here are very Jedi-like.”

Bode Akuna cleared his throat, “Back to the mission. Is there any evidence towards the existence of our Sith Lord?”

“Very circumstantial evidence,” Master Gallia admitted, “But I have my suspicions. I have my suspicions that the Senate–and the Republic itself–is under the control of our Sith Lord. It has been since the war began. And if we are talking about control, all roads lead back to a single person; the Supreme Chancellor.”

“You think Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord?”

“He is most certainly acting under the influence of the Sith Lord,” the Jedi Master said grimly, “I have not known a more power-hungry man than Palpatine.”

“Power-hungry?” it took more than a moment for Barriss to realise she had aired her thoughts out loud.

Chancellor Palpatine wasn’t someone one would consider power-hungry; or at least, from the image painted of him by the HoloNet. Rather, he appeared the unwilling participant of the Republic Senate’s descent towards tyranny in the name of ‘victory’ and war-waging ‘efficiency.’ It was also obvious the war was taking its toll on the ageing Chancellor, with his every subsequent appearance bringing with it darker eyes, deeper lines, and gaunter features.

“The Chancellor has always fought against the more extremist factions in the Senate,” Iskat argued.

“And yet,” Master Gallia retorted softly, “He still accumulates power without end. First was control of the fleets, then direct oversight over the media… and now complete hegemony over the Core Worlds. The Sith Lord will be found in Palpatine’s inner circle, in that I have no doubt. I may have even met them more times than I can count on my hands, completely oblivious.”

When said like that… it was incredibly difficult to argue against the logic. Indeed, if it was any other person, such unstoppable centralisation of authority vested into a single office would not be seen as anything other than the unforgivable sin of perverting the Republic’s democratic institutions. So why was it so acceptable when it was Palpatine? What spell had he casted on not just the Jedi, but the entire Republic? Even Barriss, aware as she was, hadn’t realised she missed the forest for the trees.

“Do we have any suspects?” Bode furrowed his brow.

“Anybody the Chancellor speaks to on a regular basis,” Master Gallia blew out a frustrated breath, “Mas Amedda springs to mind… but I do not peg him as such a good actor. Sate Pestage, perhaps. Sly Moore, however, is faintly Force-sensitive, and one of my prime suspects. Such blind supposition is dangerous, however. The Sith Lord could even be hiding as one of the Red Guards.”

The Red Guards were Chancellor Palpatine’s personal security detail, permanent fixtures of his offices, draped entirely in red robes and impenetrable helmets that hid everything about them except for their height. If the Sith Lord didn’t want to be recognised, the Red Guards were a perfect hiding spot.

“Shouldn’t we bring this to Republic Intelligence?” Bode suggested, “I’m sure they are far more well-outfitted for an investigation of this depth than we.”

“If Palpatine is a puppet of our Sith Lord, or even the Sith Lord himself,” Master Gallia warned, “Then there is no knowing where his authority ends. Director Armand Isard is almost definitely also under the influence of our suspect. The Sith Lord may also have agents in the Temple, hiding among us Jedi. This mission cannot escape the four of us. Do I make myself clear?”

The Jedi Master’s eyes glowed with a fathomless agelessness, brimming with a silent threat and promise. Barriss realised, then, that there was a reason all of them were so un-Jedi-like, and even touching the sinister form of the dark side. Adi Gallia knew everything about them, perhaps even more than they knew themselves. Leak a single thing, and that will be the last anybody will see of you. That was the message hanging in the air like a sword over their heads as the three Jedi Knights exchanged wary glances.

“Point–” Bode had to swallow before he could go one, “–taken. Where do we start?”

“There is a second issue with roping in Republic Intelligence,” Master Gallia raised two fingers to illustrate her point, “And it is that the existence of a Sith Lord is not their problem. As far as the government of the Republic is concerned, the Jedi and Sith are merely two sides of a religious schism… and the Republic constitution enforces a complete freedom to practise any religion. Being a Sith Lord is not any more illegal than being a Jedi Master.”

“But… the Sith Lord is the perpetrator behind the war!” Iskat argued.

“We only believe that because as Jedi, we are keenly aware of the powers of the Sith,” Barriss stepped forward, “Look at it from their perspective. Such a claim would be unbelievable if told to anybody but us.”

Master Gallia nodded sharply, her tendrils bouncing, “Exactly. Thankfully for us, however, the Sith are notoriously bad at staying on the right side of the law. Orchestrating the downfall of the Republic is no trivial task, and pulling so many strings inevitably means dealing in backroom deals and illegal acts.”

“So we’ll root out the Sith Lord by tracing his actions back to him,” Bode mused, “Then; how will we know what can be attributed to our mystery man? The Republic is rife with corruption, and if our Sith Lord is so deeply entrenched into the upper echelons of governance as to be believed, then he is most certainly using his puppets instead of doing things personally. It will be difficult to trace anything back to him.”

“We won’t find anything on Coruscant, that I concur,” Master Gallia placed a holoprojector on the shrouded corpse’s chest, “But the recent Attack on Coruscant had given us a great opportunity. With the destruction of the communication satellites, all inbound and outbound transmissions are forced to run through a bottleneck.”

A projection of Coruscant bursted out of the projector, a number of coloured dots of red, green, and blue circling around the larger sphere in what seemed like half a hundred different orbital configurations.

“These are the new satellites brought in to replace the destroyed ones,” the Jedi Master explained, “Greens are for meteorological applications; orbital mirrors, climate observation, remote sensing and the like. Blues are for civil applications; navigation, communications, and astronomy. Reds are the most important–and our focus–as they are military satellites. If our Sith Lord is communicating outside of Coruscant, any and all transmissions are going through encrypted channels via these military communication satellites.”

“That makes sense,” Bode crossed his arms, “Coruscant used to have hundreds, but now they’re down to a handful. Plus… previously, those hundreds of satellites were accumulated over a thousand years. Different manufacturers, operating systems, internal hardware and software.”

“And now, they’re all homogenous,” Barriss finished, “Virtually and practically identical, and more than likely interconnected on a central network. If we sabotage one, there’s a good chance we can sabotage all of them.”

It was funny, Barriss thought, because this was the exact same way Rain rooted out Dooku. Except, Rain Bonteri was forced to spread out his assets over millions of lightyears, infecting thousands of transceivers and planting hundreds of spy frigates to snuff out a mere handful of non-concrete evidence. Because the one place he couldn’t touch was the nexus of the Sith scheme; Coruscant. If Barriss could extend the Hydra’s network to Coruscant… then the net–the trap–would be complete.

“A full replacement also means they are improved, however,” Bode continued, further pressing his arms together in thought, “The previous satellites, while not all connected, are much easier to slice into individually. If the GAR was forced to replace arguably the most important assets in their logistical structure, we can bet our asses they’ve done a full overhaul of their security measures. We might be able to sabotage all by sabotaging one, but the initial barrier of entry is now much higher.”

“Considering the size of the GAR,” Iskat frowned, “There must be billions of transmissions going through the network every minute. Even more so considering what, a dozen satellites are now handling the workload previously done by hundred? Something ought to be able to slip through, right?”

“It’s not quite so simple,” Master Galli said, “The new computers operate through a very restrictive vetting process with a hierarchical command and access structure. As Bode had surmised, our intentions are to infect all satellites by infecting one. However, if our program is to be effective across the system, it has to be authorised at the very highest security levels.”

“And the means… the Supreme Chancellor’s office,” Barriss summed up.

“Or Republic Intelligence,” Bode added.

“Precisely,” Master Gallia confirmed, “Programs are scanned for content and that content is compared to their access levels. If a system program comes in without an access code that is cleared for entering system programs, it will be dumped, and the central operating centre will be notified.”

“We only have one chance, then,” Iskat decided, her red skin matted with sweat, “Aren’t you afraid I’d blow something up again?”

“The nature of the mission is subtlety, Iskat,” Master Gallia said sharply, “If the mission cannot be completed without alerting authorities, prioritise extracting without revealing your identities as Jedi.”

“So that means…” Barriss snuck a hand into her cloak, gripping the small device within, “If the program is wrapped up in the right disguise, then it should be able to get through, right?”

“Correct,” Bode nodded, “And luckily for us, I’m in Republic Intelligence and Master Gallia has access to the Chancellor’s office.”

“Luckily?” the Tholothian Master asked rhetorically, “I put you in Republic Intelligence. Our job as spies is to eliminate as much ‘luck’ as possible from a mission. Nevertheless, Bode and I will procure the ‘disguises.’ Iskat, you were previously assigned to some backwater segment of the Coruscant underworld, right?”

“Right,” Iskat narrowed her eyes, “I was helping evacuate refugees from up north.”

“Good. You will acquire the ride. Some old underworld-built junker will do.”

“I can… do that,” Iskat agreed slowly, “I’m real familiar with underworld ships… considering how many of them I’ve flown during the evac efforts. They’re death traps, though. I doubt they’ll last in the black any longer than a few days, if not hours.”

“As long as it can bring you to the target satellite,” Master Gallia told her, “Remember; you’re flying it. So choose carefully.”

The Jedi Master then turned to her, and Barriss braced herself for her task–only for Master Gallia to break eye-contact; “That’s all. The exact mission details will be provided closer to the execution date. Dismissed.”

Bode and Iskat bowed lightly in deference, and made to leave the funerary chamber. Barriss was among them… or she was supposed to be, if not for her every muscle freezing up and every bone locking in place.

I can’t… control my limbs. Paralysis? Mild panic blossomed in her chest as her brain tried to contact her non-responding body, before she mercilessly crushed it. No, not paralysis. I’m being held in place.

“Barriss?” Iskat turned back at the door, “You coming?”

Barriss stared at Master Adi Gallia, who was staring back at her curiously, arms relaxed at her sides and not an ounce of effort or strain apparent on her ageless features.

“I…” her throat was dry, “I have something to ask Master Gallia.”

Iskat looked between the two of them, then shrugged, and left.

The moment the door closed, Barriss was released from her invisible prison, slumping to the floor as she gasped for air, not realising she had been holding her breath until now–or had her heart been frozen as well? Sweat running down her cheeks and tattoos, she craned her neck to see the Tholothian Master standing over her, and an enigmatic smile gracing her lips.

“I have a task for you.”

“You could have just told me to remain,” Barriss sucked in a breath.

“That would have been suspicious…” the Jedi Master was still smiling, “...for Bode and Iskat. Did you realise the one thing you three have in common? I’m sure you have.”

“We’re all,” Barriss gasped again, struggling to her feet, “Touched by the dark side of the Force.”

“Master Luminara trained you well,” Gallia praised her, or was she praising Master Luminara? “Good. This will make things simple. I need you to investigate both Bode and Iskat.”

“W-Why me?” she asked, “Bode is a spy. Why not ask him?”

Adi Gallia crouched down to eye-level, “Because you are the only one aware, Barriss. I know why you are touched by the dark side–or rather, it is because you touched the dark on your own volition. Bode and Iskat, however… internal conflict notwithstanding, there is a third party involved, I sense.”

“...You said the Sith Lord may also have agents in the Temple,” Barriss realised.

“Now you are getting it,” the Master’s eyes twinkled like stars, “Find and bring those agents to me… and I will turn a blind eye to whatever you are planning with that device you are trying to hide.

Barriss instinctively looked down and clutched the device to confirm it was still there–it was––and realised she had played into Adi Gallia’s hands nary a half-second later. Head snapping upwards, mouth already opening with an excuse in tow, she found not Adi Gallia, but empty air. She shot to her feet, looking around. Not even the holoprojector was there. The Jedi Master was simply… gone.

Barriss Offee was left alone in the suddenly empty funerary chamber, with no accompaniment other than her own emotions, and a shrouded corpse.

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The AA-9 Freighter-Liner barrelled through the atmosphere towards the target satellite, painted a bright red on their tablets. Barriss fought a cascade of worry as she sat in the cockpit with Bode and Iskat, all three of them wearing what was essentially lightly armoured rags, pauldrons emblazoned with the same unidentified symbol that was painted onto the hull of the freighter.

Bode was zipping through his datapad for the hundredth time, reciting the details of the mission over and over like a mantra. His own way of meditating, perhaps. Iskat, meanwhile, skillfully navigated the freighter through the levels of atmospheric traffic, disguising their flight path towards the satellite with natural weaves and turns. They had originated from within a cargo portal in the northern hemisphere, one that led all the way down into the artificial crust, towards the underworld.

The reason is so that if they were ever traced back, all the authorities would find would be the endless underworld.

“Did Master Gallia tell you we would be posing as an underworld Separatist cell?” Bode asked Iskat, acting as their designated team leader.

“I told Master Gallia we would be posing as an underworld Separatist cell,” Iskat corrected, eyes fixed on the thinning atmosphere, “This ship belonged to one of those cells.”

“You stole it?”

“They gave it willingly,” Iskat grinned, “All I needed to do was tell them that we’re gonna strike the GAR. That’s all they needed to hear. Nothing compromising, promise–ran that by the Master already.”

“You have Separatist acquaintances?”

“You work offworld, don’t you, Bode?”

Bode paused, looking up from his datapad, “I do. It’s my first time back on Coruscant in a long time.”

“Well,” Iskat grunted as she nudged the freighter, “If you have any friends in the underworld like I do, then you’d have Separatist acquaintances too. I helped them out during the evacuations.”

“Don’t go catching any Separatist sympathies now,” Bode said, speaking as if ‘Separatist sympathies’ were some sort of infectious virus.

Iskat frowned behind the helm, “I think you’re the only one between the three of us without Separatist sympathies. You know the evacuations? The Coruscant authorities only went up there for posterity. Take a few pictures, film the process for the media, spin it up into some sort of heroic effort. They saved a few hundred-thousand people–a large enough number for the public to swallow–then left. The real evacuation–the exodus of millions of people–was organised by local authorities. This ship we’re on once ferried hundreds of thousands to safety by itself.”

“Must have been an effort,” Barriss commented distantly, “I think… that’s what it means to be a Jedi. Helping people, ignoring affiliation. I know the feeling. People say they’re the enemy, but when you’re there… it just doesn’t feel right, does it?”

“You were there, Barriss?” Iskat’s eyes widened.

“No. I was at Atraken.”

“Oh.”

Oh. A simple sound, not even a word. But it summed up every emotion that could be brought forth by the name ‘Atraken’ on its own. It was a disaster that came to light before the HoloNet was censured by the HoloCommunications Commission, and wreaked havoc throughout the reputations of both the GAR and Jedi Order. It was the first ‘big thing’ from the war to strike the Interior.

“A–Anyway,” Iskat cleared her throat awkwardly, “Yeah. Homeworld Security’s authority doesn’t reach so far down. The only thing maintaining order down there are the local gangs, kingpins, and Separatist cells. When you’re ignored by your own government your whole life… Separatism sounds good as anything. In some ways, the underworld is more distant from the Senate than the Outer Rim.”

Bode mulled over those words for a time, and silence reigned in the cockpit, peaceful aside from the groaning of old steel and rocking through the atmosphere.

“Alright,” Iskat broke the silence after a few minutes, “I’ve set an intercept course on the satellite. Soon, we’ll enter the restriction zone around it and get a warning. Time to prepare.”

“...Let’s go over the plan again, so we’re all on the same flimsi,” Bode broke out of his fugue, taking up an authoritative tone, “Our entrance will be simple; ride up to the satellite, match velocities, extend our airlock, and cut open a boarding portal with our lightsabers. Resistance will be light. With the war going on, the GAR skimped out on manpower by using droids to man the satellite. Most of them are astromechs or maintenance droids anyway. Destroy all of them. Does all of that clear?”

Barriss pulled out her own tablet and went over what direction they’d been given, nodding along. From the corner of her eye, she could see Iskat doing the same thing, trusting the ship’s autopilot to guide them.

“The alarm will be raised by time we enter the restricted zone, so we’ll be on the chrono,” Bode continued, “I will slice into the security and surveillance feeds and disrupt as many protocols as possible. Barriss will head straight for the main control room and upload the program. Iskat will have the hardest job; being muscle. Make no mistake; Homeworld Security and the Coruscant Guard will be swarming us within minutes. You need to keep them occupied.”

“Hard?” Iskat questioned, “I have the simplest job, and thank Force for that. Am I allowed to kill?”

“We’re Separatists,” Bode reminded, “Kill all you want. However, blasters only, at least until I break into the surveillance systems. From then, lightsabers away.”

“Very simple job,” Iskat corrected herself.

“And Barriss,” the Jedi spy turned to her, “You have two datacubes, for two layers to the ‘disguise.’ The first cube is the dummy program, and our cover. What it is is a ‘flare’ of sorts, meant to hijack the satellite and transmit a Separatist broadcast throughout Republic space. It’s got a low level clearance, one that would get caught by the system. The system would then automatically vet itself and send the dummy program to central. Now, you need to insert the second cube while the system is vetting itself.”

“What will happen to the second program then?”

“It will get caught on a subsidiary memory bank and queued up to be sent into the main banks when they reopen,” Bode explained, “Since it was in the subsidiary, when the GAR sweeps the system in their investigation, they won’t find a thing but our dummy program–which has a legitimate Separatist broadcast on it, mind you. Once the vetting ends, the banks will reopen and the program will go through. Now, we could actually do this at the headquarters down planetside, but breaking into a satellite is much easier, mostly because the GAR doesn't think anybody would be stupid or capable enough to try, especially since there’s zero chance of escape.”

“But we will be escaping, I hope?” Barriss asked.

Bode breathed out, “We’ll rendezvous at the satellite’s escape pods, get in one, and release all of them. Sounds good?”

Not a moment too soon, a deep voice suddenly rang through the cockpit– “Unidentified freighter, be advised you are approaching a restricted orbital zone. Please alter your course immediately. I say again; be advised–”

Iskat slammed her fist down on a button, and the voice was cut short, “Too late for it not to sound good now. We’re coming up on the satellite.”

Indeed, the military communications satellite was fast approaching beyond the freighter’s viewports. With the transceiver forcibly disabled, they had no idea how the GAR was responding to the situation as they pulled nearer, velocities evening out as Iskat toggled another lever and extended the docking tube.

Bode stood up and took out his lightsaber. There was the familiar snap-hiss of the ignition, and then an unfamiliar bleeding red blade. A red lightsaber.

“Synthetic crystal. The black market for lightsabers is larger than you’d think,” he explained as he shoved on his crude helmet, “Remember; no comms or sabers until I take down the security systems. Until then, the only thing they’ll see is this red saber. Let’s go.”

Bode dashed out of the cockpit, Barriss and Iskat close behind him, putting on their helmets as they did. The helmets weren’t as advanced as that of clone troopers, and were hardly more than fashioned buckets. No way to communicate through them, either, meaning they would have to take them off to speak into their comlinks. Really, they were just there to hide their identities until the security systems were disabled.

By the time Barriss and Iskat reached the end of the docking tube, Bode was already halfway through cutting open the airlock. They didn't need to wait for more than a minute to be through.

The first thing that greeted them on the other side was a protocol droid, turning towards them in surprise– “Oh my! You are trespassing on–”

The droid’s head exploded in a show of sparks and wire and metal shards. Bode was holding up a smoking blaster. Barriss hadn’t even noticed him drawing it. And then they were in, splitting up and dashing through the cramped corridors and blasting away what handful of droids had been stationed to maintain the satellite, the Force guiding their aims to never miss their shots. Frenzied beeping and high-pitched screeching filled the halls and droid after droid was shot down, droidspeak falling on deaf ears–or rather, ears that couldn’t understand droidspeak.

The interior of the satellite was incredibly dark and cramped. Its ceilings and walls were covered with exposed piping and wiring. To make the environment even more unbearable, the lights went dark with a loud thud, and were replaced with dim, emergency red.

Then there was a beeping of another kind; the comlink on her wrist was active. Barriss peeled off her helmet and took a breath full of harsh, poorly circulated air. There’s air. And atmosphere. This place was actually meant to be crewed by people, not droids. Barriss couldn’t imagine anybody living here, in these terrible conditions.

She tapped her comlink.

“Security cams and feeds are down,” Bode informed, “I’m gonna knock out as many systems as possible.”

“Copy!” Barriss shouted into the comlink as struggled her way towards the centre, tripping over the thresholds of airtight doors as she crossed compartment after compartment–and even a crew lounge fitted with a sabacc table–until she reached the centre.

The centre. The control room was bubble-shaped, with a pair of chairs and an unfathomably large number of panels and dashboards and doohickeys. The room looked empty of life to her, though the computers themselves had lights flickering across their dark surfaces. Holographic streams of data scrolled up from desktop to oblivion above a dozen workstations. A metallic head suddenly popped up; a caretaker droid looking at her in alarm.

“You shouldn’t be here–!”

Barriss shot it, and leapt into the bubble, feeling her way to the desired module through the Force.

“I’m in the control room,” she told the team, “Inserting the cubes–”

A flashing light caught her attention–proximity alarm. Our ship? No, not our ship. Someone else’s entering the restricted zone right now. She struggled with the panel for a moment, before managing to display the data onto an overhead holoscreen.

“Is there an issue, Barriss?” Bode was audibly worried about an unforeseen hiccup in their plan.

“Iskat,” Barriss kept her eyes fixed on the approaching contact, “Gunship, inbound.”

“How many?” Iskat was breathing heavily.

“Gunship,” she repeated, “Singular. One.”

“Thirty troopers,” Iskat laughed nervously, “I can do that.”

“Good,” Bode said tightly, “I’m making my way to the escape pods. See what I can do to mask our escape.”

Leaving the incoming company to Iskat, Barriss returned back to the data upload module, running her fingers over the scintillating surface and kicking the headless droid body away with her foot as she felt her way to her target. There it is. She flipped open a latch and tugged out two lengths of cable.

Fishing out the two datacubes, she identified the real program first and hooked it into the local computer. Then, she fished out the device hidden deep in her clothes, and hooked it up to the datacube. She breathed out to still the nervous jitter. Hopefully I can piggyback the Hydra’s code onto the second program, so that they share the same access code. She accessed the two datapacks with a nearby computer and nested the Hydra’s code into the datacube, using the local system so as to not alarm the central network.

If this doesn’t work… I’m in for a world of hurt.

Once the datacube was newly formatted, Barriss unplugged all of them and wiped the computer clean. She then hooked both cubes up and smashed down the install key, beginning the upload to the interconnected satellite network. Two holographic progress bars appeared, one slightly behind the other. As the contents of the dummy was a mere broadcast, the datafile size was relatively small, and the progress ran ahead of the larger, real datacube. The wait was unbearable, and made worse when a tremor shook the satellite. The entire facility shuddered, amber lighting flickered, and her eyes jerked anxiously up as dust from the overhead holograms flashed.

There was feminine shout–Iskat’s–and the roar of blasterfire echoed down the corridor.

Barriss swore. As if in response, the dummy upload finished, and was run through the clearance protocols.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered, slapping at the panel as if it would make the second upload quicker.

The second upload completed, and disappeared. Barriss double-checked to ensure it had been sent into a subsidiary databank for temporary storage in the queue. It’s there. Good. Great.

The computer beeped, and a scrawl of text appeared on the overhead screens

[SYSTEM] ERROR 401: PACKAGE UNAUTHORISED

[SYSTEM] CREATING REPORT

[SYSTEM] REPORT FILED

And then the real program in the queue was brought up to be run through the clearance protocols.

“Barriss, are you there?” Bode shouted through the comlink, “Got an ETA!?”

“Second program’s being vetted,” Barriss replied, eyes darting to the radar display, “I see another gunship approaching.”

“Leave it! Help Iskat clear the clones and get here ASAP! If it fails, then it fails, and we’ll deal with it planetside!”

“Copy.”

Barriss climbed out of the bubble and stumbled toward the source of the chaos, following the echoes bouncing erratically off the uneven surfaces. And then the Force screamed in her ear. Barriss snapped downwards, ducking just as a blaster bolt speared through where her head once was.

She drew her lightsaber, newly built, clear sapphire blade bursting out and mixing with the red lightning for a deep purple mist. She approached, recognising the path as the one out of the sabacc lounge, knocking out stray bolts out the way as she did.Blaster bolts gnawed away at the walls, leaving them serrated and flaming.

Then she reached the lounge, and saw a beautiful thing. The Force sung in her ear, a poem, a dance. It sang a single song, a single desire, a pure, singular focus and goal.

Kill.

Kill!

KILL!

KILL! KILL! KILL!

Until it was a harmonious choir in her head, spurring her every limb to leap forth and slaughter. Barriss bit her tongue, drawing blood and allowing the sharp pain to clear her thoughts. The red-armoured Coruscant Guard were pouring into the lounge, filling the space with needles of harsh blue, and Iskat Akaris sliced, ducked, leapt, parried, punched, hacked, elbowed, kneed, threw and caught, kicked and flipped and sliced and stabbed. The Jedi Knight was a whirlwind of two lightsabers–one emerald, one gold–and both a flurry of death, herself consumed in her furious dance of unrestrained slaughter, time and time again using the Force to drag out any trooper camping down in the corridor and pulling them into her blades.

And the song the Force sang was great, so attuned, that Barriss found herself struggling not to join the massacre. Bode’s fears were unfounded. Barriss… didn’t need to help at all. In fact, she would help by simply staying out of the way. There was no other sound but that of fighting. No screams, no shouts. The clones were all likely roaring into their internal circuits, their pain and agony not escaping the confines of their helmets, and Iskat… And Iskat Akaris was like a living weapon, wielding not her lightsabers but instead being wielded by them, a puppet on strings dancing to the tune of the Force.

Until the crew lounge was scattered with corpses and broken bodies, some still in one piece, most not. The cramped entrance portal was in a worse condition, so piled high with bodies it was almost a barricade of flesh, bone, and plastoid, painted slimy red with a slick waterfall of blood that ran down and pooled at the threshold.

And the last clone was hanging in the air, suspended by the Force, as Iskat held him up by the neck. The red-skinned alien had lost her helmet somewhere, her armour smoking with blaster holes and steaming blood, and one of her lightsabers had been shot out of her hand–her left, which she now used to hold up the cloned trooper. The troopers likely tried to disable the Jedi first, knowing her strength lied in her sabers.

Iskat was missing two fingers.

She held up the clone anyway. Even as she did, Iskat was so tall the hunter and hunted were still level eye-to-eye.

“W-Why…!?” the clone choked out, “J-Jedi…”

“Iskat,” Barriss said.

Iskat sneered, her eyes glowing in the dark, and clenched her fist. And the trooper imploded. Barriss was intricately aware of the plastoid armour crumpling, the wet squelch of flesh and muscle, and the crunch of shattering bones. The clone trooper dropped to the ground, looking more akin to crumpled flimsi than man. At least… at least nobody is going to attribute this to a Jedi, Bode’s red lightsaber notwithstanding. Was this part of Master Gallia’s calculations too?

“Iskat,” Barriss said again.

Iskat snapped towards her, murder still in her eyes, and for a moment Barriss readied herself, believing the out of control Jedi would go after her next. Her fears were unfounded too, as a relieved grin appeared on her face.

“S-So…” the red-skinned devil choked out, “I m-made it…”

That murderous gleam vanished, and Iskat slumped forward like a puppet with their strings cut. The haunting melody in the Force faded, and Barriss rushed forward to catch her, scooping up the fallen lightsaber as she did.

“I’ve got her,” Barriss spoke into her comlink, “Heading your way now.”

The trip to the escape pods were uneventful, even as the satellite shuddered with another docking gunship. Barriss had slung the barely conscious Iskat over her shoulder, who was so tall her feet were still dragging against the floor. They found Bode already boarding on escape pods; one out of three escape pods.

Barriss gladly handed off the lanky woman–who was heavier than she looked–over to the stronger Bode, who raised an eyebrow.

“By the Force, she looks like she went through the ringer.”

“She did,” Barriss grunted as she climbed into the escape pod, closing the hatch behind her, “In more ways than one. Let’s go.”

“You got it,” Bode fastened Iskat into a seat, and then himself, before pressing his datapat.

Thud. Thud.

The two other escape pods were launched.

Thud.

And then it was their turn. Barriss’ stomach leapt up to her throat as they hurtled back down to Coruscant.

“Where are we landing?” she asked.

“One of the underworld portals in the southern hemisphere. We’ll disappear into the underworld,” Bode grunted, “Hopefully Homeworld Security will follow the pod heading towards the northern hemisphere instead of us.”

“They’re going to crack down on the Separatist cells,” Barriss breathed in, “Thousands will die.”

“They’re Separatists,” Bode closed his eyes, as if convincing himself, “Good riddance.”

The pod jerked violently. That’ll be the counter-thrust.

“So?” Bode then asked, “Check the upload. Is it successful?”

Barriss fumbled the datapad into her hands, activating it and reading the logs with trembling apprehension.

[SYSTEM] PACKAGE UPLOAD SUCCESSFUL

[SYSTEM] INITIATING UPLINK

[SYSTEM] ERROR 424: FAILED DEPENDENCY

[SYSTEM] CREATING REPORT

[SYSTEM] ERROR 409: CONFLICT

SYSTEM] CREATING REPORT

[SYSTEM] ERROR 409: CONFLICT

[SYSTEM] CREATING REPORT

[SYSTEM] ERROR 409: CONFLICT

[SYSTEM] UPLINK ESTABLISHED

[FROM CND_1.252.491.472.01.51.4_1310RV] BYPASSED SECURITY PROTOCOLS

[FROM CND_1.252.491.472.01.51.4_1310RV] CONTACTING HANDLER ONE

[FROM CND_1.252.491.472.01.51.4_1310RV] NETWORK COMPLETED

[FROM CND_1.252.491.472.01.51.4_1310RV] RECONFIGURING SATELLITE SYSTEM

[FROM CND_1.252.491.472.01.51.4_1310RV] WELCOME BACK, PRIESTESS. WAS YOUR MISSION SUCCESSFUL?

Barriss released an explosive, held breath. She looked up at Bode, smiling.

“Yes. It was very successful.”