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Chapter 4

Repulse Squadron drifted towards the specified coordinates, three frigates like dead, silent bodies carried lifelessly by still waters. Directly ahead, the twin suns were golden marbles, their intensity moderated by their distance and by the viewports’ automated sunscreens. Closer afield, the desert world of Molavar loomed. The system was minor, and unimportant. Carefully chosen. The only people who would have any interest here were on the seedier side, and would not be missed if they had to be shot down in the name of operational security.

“Incoming transmission from Molavar, sir,” the comms droid tapped the digitised console overlay, “Encrypted datafile. Triple-coded, multi-routed shortburst. Looks like it was sent when the uplink detected our transponder signal in the system.”

“Thorough,” I commented, “Send it to my tablet.”

I ripped open the file and started combing through the brief, registering every word in my head so as to not miss a detail. Thankfully, General Tann appreciated brevity–a trait that is mirrored in the rundown. Unfortunately… her concise nature almost made it extremely clear just how daring–to put it lightly–this operation is going to be. I also found out Asajj Ventress has been given the rank of commander for this mission, making her my direct superior indeed.

Especially since we were dealing with the Hutts, in the Hutts’ own backyard.

“We are picking up Cronau radiation in the system, sir,” B1-5733 said, “A small vessel had just jumped out of hyperspace.”

Taylor was off-shift for some well-earned maintenance and a recharge, along with the rest of his bridge crew. B1-5733–Stelle–had been with me since Repulse herself–predating even Tuff, who was only assigned to me after I was assigned Resistance and Renown. The original in command of Repulse was a bit soft in the processors due to a production defect, so I scrapped him and called in a small favour to reprogram Stelle to take his place.

“Pinpoint it,” I ordered, “Prepare tractor beam projectors.”

Can’t have anyone blowing our cover, can we?

“Our projectors are meant to guide in vultures, sir,” Tuff reminded, “They aren’t strong enough–”

“They don’t have to be, sir” Stelle interrupted, “We only need to slow them down for our ion cannons to disable them.”

Tuff slowly twisted his head to stare at me, as if he couldn’t process a B1 unit overriding him.

“What?” I raised an eyebrow, “Stelle’s right. And your senior, so don’t give me that attitude.”

“The contact is at the edge of the system, sir,” Stelle reported, “Projectors are charging. Should we plot an intercept vector?”

“Do so, thank you,” I leaned on my fist, “Identify the make as soon as possible. Hail them when in range, I want a beacon identification.”

Repulse yawned around, guns awakening and turrets swivelling to face the unfortunate victim, who simply came to the wrong place at the wrong time. Renown and Resistance fired up their ion drives, and the Squadron began burning away at the light-hours between us and our target.

“Model identified, sir!” Stelle remained focused on his console, “Corellian make, G-nine Rigger-class freighter.”

G9 Rigger… I stole a quick glance at my datapad. I narrowed my eyes.

“Earlier than scheduled…” I muttered, before raising my voice, “I still want that beacon identification.”

“Roger roger,” Stelle nodded, deftly pulling up a comms window, “Freighter, this is the Confederate Navy. You are flying in Confederate space. Please identify yourself.”

Several seconds ticked away, with no answer. Whatever, no point in being polite if they weren’t willing to reciprocate.

“Contact in range of our forward ion cannons,” the gunnery droid said, “Arm weapon systems?”

“Arm them,” I commanded, “Stelle, rip the codes out of them and run it.”

“Roger roger,” the droid said, “...Callsign Twilight, registered in Galactic City, Coruscant. Extensive history of spice smuggling… several citations issued, but no bounty.”

“Looks like this is our cargo,” I huffed, “Didn’t have to make it so hard. Disarm weapons, issue clearance to portside hangar.”

“Twilight, you are cleared for landing in portside hangar,” Stelle echoed, “Please disable stabilisers for tractor beam guidance.”

I rubbed the display of the tablet absentmindedly, taking in a deep breath as I prepared for what will probably be the most stressful ‘routine patrol’ of my life.

“Tuff, get a party down there and escort our guests here,” I sighed, “The rest of you: conceal weapons, set blasters to stun.”

I do not usually allow blasters on my bridge, as they are workplace hazards. In this special case, they have turned into insurance. General Tann told me she would protect me, but my understanding of Force users is that they are quite… unpredictable. Hopefully, this Asajj Ventress respected professionalism as much as Sev’rance Tann, but for some reason I doubt it.

The sound of the blast doors sliding open was louder than I remembered, bidding me to stand from the chair and turn to greet my new partner in crime.

The first thought that ran through my head was: wow, she really looks like an ‘Asajj Ventress.’ A woman, clearly, but with pale and sickly white skin that made her more wraith than… whatever near-human species she was. Because humans don’t look like that. Though a flowing, hooded cloak covered most of her outfit–the kind Force users seemed to like–I could almost make out the hilts of two lightsabers at her waist.

She lowered the hood, revealing a totally hairless head which slanted down to a pointed chin. Dark lipstick, dark eyeshadow–very long eyelashes, especially the bottom ones–Goddamn, I’m working with a goth. A very unstable one, from the looks of it. If I could guess… it must be daddy issues.

“Asajj Ventress?” I forced as much composed politeness as I could into my voice, “Welcome aboard. I am Rain Bonteri, I look forward to working with you.”

Ventress regarded me for a long moment with dark eyes, making the back of my neck itch. Unwilling to trap myself in a staring contest, I allowed myself to get distracted by my beeping datapad.

“So do I,” there was a crawl in her voice that made me shiver.

God, I fucking hate space wizards. Never know what’s in their heads.

“May I confirm our quarry, Commander Ventress?” I tried to chip away at the tension.

It backfired.

“Our?” Ventress’ asked dangerously.

This… this fickle bitch. My smile tightened unintentionally. Stelle shifted, servos whirring. His blaster laid just out of view, held behind the console stand. Another droid in the lower level noticed, and turned around. I could already feel their original battle programming fire up behind their dark photoreceptors.

“I have no intention in taking credit for your achievements,” I held out a hand, to both appease the vicious woman and to wave down the droids, “In fact, there will be no achievement in this task for me at all. But it serves that we must cooperate to carry out your… master’s… demands. This is a military vessel, and such is the circumstance that you are my superior for this assignment. I will carry out your commands, and I hope you will allow me to do so to the best of my ability.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Ventress eyed me again, her face worryingly placid, shifting her weight from foot to foot like a cat deciding the best angle from which to maul her prey. Until finally, she stepped aside to reveal a RA-7 protocol droid carrying a cage in its hands, one that looked suspiciously like a pet carrier.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. The second was the disgusting, squirming creature inside the cage. Like an overgrown slug, larger than even my head. It squeaked and gurgled, waving its tiny arms around.

I didn’t even know Jabba the Hutt had a son. Didn’t see him in the original trilogy… repugnant the creature may be, there was still the unfortunate thought that the child–a child–may have died before reaching the timeline of the movies. Hopefully this mission would not be the cause of it.

I nodded sharply, turning away to avoid the smell, “We will take the Triellus to Teth. Considering it is a single hyperlane with no deviations, this will make a swift journey.”

Without a word, my droid crew immediately brought Repulse around and started the burn to the pre-calculated hyperspace ingress. As I sat back down, I could feel Ventress’ stare continue to drill into the back of my head. Even Tuff was growing uncomfortable, by the way his head twisted incrementally to peek between us.

“Make yourself comfortable, Commander Ventress,” I said, staring forward, “My tactical droid can see you to your cabin, if you wish.”

“...Do not presume anything about me,” she rasped.

I closed my eyes. Fuck me.

⁂

Coruscant, Coruscant System

Corusca Sector

“Jabba requests that anyone who can help find us his kidnapped son send any information they have immediately.”

The holomessage fizzled, and then repeated the recording on loop, the protocol droid relaying the plea for help over and over as her master looked on. Palpatine never thought he’d see the day, but it appeared even the almighty Jabba the Hutt could be distressed, the great beast shifting and swaying in agitation.

“We must help Jabba–” he could feel it in the Force, the discomfort those words provoked in the assemblage of Jedi in his office “–This is the opportunity we’ve been looking for.”

“The Jedi must rescue Jabba’s son,” the Chancellor stated, factual and flat.

The holoprojection winked out of view, sucked back into the holoemitter built into the centre of his office. At the unanimous silence of the Jedi, Palpatine invited them for a seat at the circlet of seats arranged before his desk. As they accepted the offer, the Chancellor carefully observed their reactions, letting nothing show on his own face.

Mace Windu stroked his chin, his arm supported by the other crossing his body, face fixed in a permanent frown. The man never looked so much as even slightly satisfied with anything in his life, much less the mere thought of coming to the aid of Jabba the Hutt. The two others–Plo Koon and Luminara Unduli–were content to remain silent, allowing Windu to speak what was in all their minds. Convincing the Jedi to help a creature as diametric to their own principles as Jabba was never going to be simple.

Windu reclined grimly, “I do not like it, diverting resources to help that criminal scum. It will be a dark day for the Republic.”

“I agree, my friend,” Palpatine extended the proverbial peace offer, “But what other choice do we have? And besides, is this not a most fitting job for the Jedi? Nothing can escape your senses for long, after all.”

Except me, obviously. Even after all these years of careful planning, there were still times he impressed himself with how easily he moved and acted among them undetected as a hidden Sith Lord. These fools do not deserve their moniker of guardians of the galaxy.

“Chancellor, do you not find it strange that Jabba would come to us for help?” Mace Windu’s voice did not disguise his antipathy–a tone most unlike one a Jedi should use, “The Hutt is no doubt scheming something. Why else would someone like him–someone who could buy any number of bounty hunters as he may so wish–come to the Republic for help? Why should we dispatch Jedi to take that risk, for Jabba the Hutt?”

“Because a child is missing, Master Windu,” Palpatine replied.

He had no reason to take the moral high ground, but it amused him to no end that he is able to do so before three Jedi Masters. This is how the galaxy shall remember you when you are long gone, Jedi: as blind hypocrites, blind to what laid before your very eyes. Me, and laughably, your own duty.

“Would we be having this conversation should the child be human?” Palpatine urged, “Does a parent’s conduct have any relation to a child’s plight?”

“Would we be having this conversation,” Mace Windu replied calmly, “Should this human child’s parent be the head of the largest criminal syndicate in the galaxy?”

“We would,” the Chancellor answered, “If that parent controls the hyperlanes of the Outer Rim. If that parent will allow us to use them in exchange. We will need access to his spacelanes in order to move our troops.”

Windu still disapproved greatly, “I still feel uneasy. There is more to this kidnapping than it seems– I sense it. This must be some sort of sting operation, knowing Jabba.”

“Then you must send as many Jedi as you can… knowing Jabba.”

“That’s impossible, Chancellor,” Mace Windu shook his head lightly, “The Separatists have our forces spread thin. We have no Jedi to spare.”

“And our fleets and armies will be spread even more thinly if we can’t access the Outer Rim and keep our supply chains functioning,” he pointed out.

“I must agree with the Chancellor,” Luminara Unduli finally broke her silence, “Regardless for the context of this kidnapping, we have little choice but to negotiate with Jabba. And there is no opportunity greater than this to gain an advantageous seat at the table.”

“Two birds with one stone,” Palpatine insisted, “You save a child, and we save our armies.”

Windu remained silent for a few more moments, before finally reluctantly conceding.

“Very well, Chancellor. But it remains that we have little Jedi to spare,” he leaned forward in thought, “I would say that Kenobi and Skywalker are in the perfect location to begin the hunt, but they are still in the midst of taking Christophsis. And we cannot afford to give up that planet to the Separatists.”

“That is troubling,” Palpatine agreed, “Christophsis’ natural resources and strategic position must be taken at any cost. Was resistance greater than anticipated?”

“Their first attempt to reinforce the ground troops were repulsed,” Windu explained, “And we’ve just received word that the Separatists had recently bolstered the blockade around the planet with a second fleet in anticipation for Kenobi’s counterattack. It will take time before they can retake the planet.”

That wasn’t right. Why did the blockade receive reinforcements? Dooku couldn’t have given that order–the Republic is supposed to hold Christophsis to maintain the balance of power in the Outer Rim. Once the Hutt\'s hyperlanes are in Separatist hands, the Republic and the Confederacy will bleed each other fighting over the Corellian Run.

Was this the work of that girl that Thrawn sent over–Sev’rance Tann? He warned Dooku about that girl before when he took her on as a Dark Acolyte. She was too much of an officer–a general–and not a warrior. Tann was a talented tool and weapon, but as a professionally trained tactician and strategist, she will never concede to purposefully making poor military actions in order to prolong the war. That is why she does not know of the Grand Plan, and must never will.

Palpatine will have to warn Dooku again. Considering the Supreme Commander must have knowledge of the Grand Plan in order to guide the war to serve their purposes, Dooku must hasten the introduction of Grievous. Grievous cares little for winning the war–the brute only cares for killing Jedi, a motivation Palpatine has no trouble with. The cyborg will follow any order so long as it results in the death of more Jedi, and yet possessed relevant military experience from his homeworld. He is the perfect weapon of the Grand Plan.

And that is why he will be Supreme Commander, not Sev’rance Tann, not Asajj Ventress. Not that bounty hunter Durge.

“Then who else do you have in mind, Master Windu?” the Chancellor let nothing of his thoughts show.

“I will carry out this mission, Chancellor, Master Windu,” Unduli suddenly said, “My Padawan could use the experience. We will prepare to leave immediately.”

Mace Windu nodded sharply, and the Jedi stood together. They bowed their heads politely together before leaving, and Palpatine returned the gesture as he watched them file out of his office.

Fascinating, wasn’t it? How these paragons of virtue, these Jedi, didn’t leap into action the moment they heard a child is in dire need of aid. Jabba may be a corrupt and vile lord of crime, but his son Rotta… that child is still an innocent being. It was fascinating, how very selective these Jedi are in where they focused their legendary compassion.

Still, Windu had a point. Jabba could hire as many bounty hunters as so wishes, and presides over an intelligence network so vast entire governments could only envy. Why would he come to the Republic–to the Jedi–and beg for help? Dooku will have to exercise caution.

On the other hand, Jabba’s plea saved time in the plan to turn him away from the Republic. With the Jedi taking the bait, it will now be much simpler to incriminate them for the kidnapping of his son, Rotta. In the grand scheme of things, this was but one of the many devices Palpatine used to manipulate the ebb and flow of the war until the right moment. Until the Jedi are at their weakest, and Palpatine could strike down the war–and the Jedi Order itself–in one single blow.

Yet, Palpatine hoped nothing will go wrong and that the Huttlet will be returned unharmed after he served his purpose. After all, Rotta the Hutt was another potential ally in the very far future.

But if anything did happen to the poor thing… ah well, there will always be innocent casualties in war. Now that the Republic has accepted Jabba’s plea for help, the Hutt will be even more entrenched in the anti-Republic camp if that comes to pass.

Palpatine tapped the comlink on his desk, “I wish to speak with Lord Jabba. This is the Chancellor of the Republic.”