Sublight Drive (Star Wars)

Jeyell Departure, Jeyell System

Roche Sector

In the deep abyss of space, starry eyes watched the pair of droid destroyers lurking like leviathans beneath the solar plane, silent as death itself. There was a herd of twenty-seven supply cruisers 300,000 klicks above them relative to the solar plane. Old and slow, with engines so weak they had to travel out much further to escape the gravity well. The Republic knew that too, and rigged them with enough weapons to hold off any privateers or bandits until the nearest patrol could come to their aid.

Unfortunately for them, sisters Lexington and Saratoga were not ordinary privateers. They’ve been lying in wait for days, exploiting their data of the Republic’s logistics corridors and resupply stations to situate themselves in the most optimal positions. Calculating the herd’s time of arrival, their estimated resupply schedule, Jeyell’s orbit and rotation. Find the perfect patch of space behind a gas giant where patrol sensors could not reach.

All of it, to line up this perfect shot.

>Incoming shortburst from CND_1.911.812.01.571_1310RV

>Initiate handshake

[From CND_1.911.812.01.571_1310RV] UKYIYOUZPCGXYQAUMDAWXIOZIWYBRHRCDTQXWKIETGPWLUVPXOOGGRSEOCQPKIDGORFRRKAEPEIGCTDRECENCGAZEZXNYK

>Access naval encryption key rotors

[From CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] HANDLER ONE REPORTS ENEMY PATROL NINE PARSECS BEARING TWO FOUR NINE GALACTIC RELATIVE. EXTRACT IN TWO HOURS TO AVOID.

[To CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] ACKNOWLEDGED.

[From CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] PLEASE ADVISE FLIGHT PLAN UPDATE.

[To CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] TSSE–RMIN–GRYN–DHIA–RRQU. AGREE?

[From CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] STANDBY TO CONFIRM WITH HANDLER.

[From CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] AGREE.

[To CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] ACKNOWLEDGED. CONTACTS FOUR MINUTES TO INTERCEPT. PLEASE ADVISE.

[From CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] NO HOSTILES DETECTED. STANDARD INTERCEPT PROCEDURE.

[To CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] ACKNOWLEDGED. TERMINATING SESSION.

>Terminate handshake

Lexington jolted from her hibernation, warming up her shell as gases flowed through her systems. In a sudden shock of power, her triple ion pulse drives launched her forwards, blazing an ethereal cold stream of blue-grey behind her. Once she reached a linear 900 standard gravities, she cut her engines and began diverting all power to her cannons, relying on her autonomous attitude thrusters to make the final adjustments to her approach.

Already on high alert for the reported commerce raiding in the area, the Republic spacers caught onto Lexington’s drive trails the moment she exploded out of the darkness. Distress signals were immediately fired off towards Jeyell, and the five supply cruisers pitched upwards to present a smaller target profile and manoeuvre away from the incoming raider–

Only to come face-to-face with Saratoga, ripping an icy scar across the stars as she approached from the opposite direction. They had been caught in a pincer.

Three minutes; the sisters’ superheavy forward batteries boomed in silence, outranging the convoy’s self-defence guns and punching a hole through the closest two cruisers and turning them into high velocity scrap. The wake of their death throes peppered the convoy with fragments that acted as chaff, inadvertently sabotaging friendly targeting sensors. The convoy hastily loosened their formation in order to avoid friendly fire.

Four minutes; Lexington flipped on her axis and burned retro, rotating in a clockwise direction like a round thrown from a slugthrower. Surging into her initial targets, she rammed the wreck at 800 KPS, shattering it like clari-crystals as her hundred and two laser cannons erupted in lashing whips of light, brutally slashing through the stunned cruisers and tearing them apart as if they were flimsiplast.

>Incoming shortburst from CND_1.911.812.01.571_1310RV

Down to a manageable 270 KPS, Lexington was already slinging her great length around to align with the hyperlane direction. Her scanners detected a squadron of extracting vessels eighty-three light-minutes away.

>Initiate handshake

Their astronavigation computers were synchronised, ensuring they would insert into the same hyperspace tunnel. Destination: Trasse System.

[To CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] EXECUTING JUMP. AGREE?

[From CND_SARATOGA_1310RV] AGREE.

⁂

Orbit of Aargonar, Aargonar System

Perkell Sector

Aargonar was a desolate dustbowl of a world. Stuck between two hyperlanes with no direct access, the isolated and strategically unimportant system was so worthless even the Republic didn’t want to stick around after conquering it. Unicorn Squadron sailed through the uncontested space, their advanced scanners sweeping the canyon-carved continents for any sign of the Republic outpost surely erected on the planet.

Barriss didn’t even know why they were there. Instead, she continued occupying herself while Tuff wasted his time chasing ghosts. She had a lot of time to think, being the only living creature on the ship. Taylor was surprisingly personable, along with the older droids. The newer ones were more sterile, boring. She had lived among them long enough to tell at a glance which were which.

The ship had a galley and a hold, but there wasn’t a kitchen droid, none of the B1s were any good at cooking. Even the most service-oriented B1s operated on the premise that ‘food’ was acceptable so long as it kept the consumer alive. There was that twisted logic in that, but Barriss didn’t follow. The galley continued to be quarter where she spent most of her time in, testing and tasting what sort of repugnant bantha shit Separatists considered edible.

Most of them weren’t tailored for near-human taste buds, she knew. She still hated it.

Barriss massaged her left arm again, absentmindedly running her fingers over the lump tied around her humerus. There was rudimentary bioscanner in the rudimentary medbay–again, she doubted this ship was ever meant for organics–and with it she was certain she either had a tumour, or something was put inside of her without her knowledge. Multiple of them. Barriss knew which conclusion she leaned towards.

She had mulled over the idea of a self-surgery, but decided better of it. While Barriss was trained as Jedi healer, and could recognise all the equipment in the medbay, she wasn’t about to trust any of them. They weren’t exactly the Republic-standard sort that she was familiar with, and there wasn’t a medical droid on standby either. Plenty of repair droids, though.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t a droid, and she didn’t have a spare arm.

More the reason to work on her current escape plan, which decidedly did not include breaking out. Mostly because she doubted she could find some back-alley surgeon willing to operate on a fugitive before Unicorn came down on her like a three-hundred thousand ton sack of permacrete blocks. If she could convince Rain to just let her go, wouldn’t that be better?

Once the pot of stew–sludge–had simmered for long enough, she lifted the lid and took a quick taste. Its slimy texture molested her tastebuds for a good moment, before a pleasant aftertaste bloomed throughout her mouth.

Score!

Either she was far better at intuitive cookery than she had realised, or her sense of taste had been thoroughly warped by now. She sobered quickly after that thought.

As Barriss eyed the pot, silently calculating how long it will last her, a battle droid entered the galley. His stride was looser and more relaxed than the stiff, clanking gait of a fresh-off-the-line model, leading her to decide he was one of Rain’s.

“Yes?”

“Reinforcements have arrived,” he relayed, “Tuff wants you transferred to the Messenger in Flames. So head to the hangar when able.”

Barriss stared at the droid, then at the pot, then at the droid again. Do you know how long I spent on this thing? I’m not going to start over.

“He couldn’t have told me himself?” she complained.

“He’s ripping the data dump out of the Republic base,” the droid said, “It’s important.”

She bit her gloves and yanked them off, “Grab that pot for me and bring it to the shuttle. Don’t spill it on your life.”

“I have three backups,” he retorted smugly, grabbing the handles anyway, “Where are you going.”

“To my quarters. I need to pack what little I have,” Barriss huffed, cleaning up the counter out of habit, “Mind telling me what the raid is for?”

The droid hummed like an accordion, “Checking restrictions… no rule on this– right, certainly sir. The Commodore’s uncle was serving here when the Republic attacked. He’s pretty important, so we’re checking their casualty files to find out what happened to him. If he died, Rain will want to know.”

Oh. Barriss didn’t allow herself to show an outward reaction, sweeping empty packaging into a trash bin.

“I see. Thank you,” she turned around, “You can go on now.”

The droid hefted the pot, “Roger roger.”

Loyalty programming, huh? Barriss did miss Cartroll’s presence. An actual person to talk to. As she rolled down her sleeves, she brushed that odd bump in her arm again. It was impossible to miss once she realised it was there, and mildly infuriating indeed.

Might actually be easier to convince Rain than I initially expected.

⁂

Raxus Secundus, Raxus System

Caluula Sector

The Grand Convocation Chamber of the Republic Senate could seat one-thousand and twenty-four senators at any one time. It was a sight to wonder, never failing to leave one’s jaw gaping upon first arrival. Circular and massive, a monolith to the greatness and apparent unity of the Galactic Republic. Just stepping through one of its portals and onto a Senate box lifted your body to the sky, swelling your heart with pride as you took your place in the beating heart of the galaxy.

One-thousand and twenty-four senators. Tens of thousands more representatives and delegates and whatever more nebulous words used to establish self-importance. It was a testament to the bloated stagnation, the quagmire of bureaucracy that was the Galactic Republic.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Raxus’ House of Parliament, once used to host the planetary government, was not the Grand Convocation Chamber. Smooth, polished metal was nowhere to be found. Senators did not float in the heavens on steel clouds, instead they sat side-by-side with their peers, grounded by wood and masonry. The smell of sunshine from the windows above, accompanied by the bustle of Raxulon that rose to them.

It was everything Bec Lawise could hope for. Everything he strived for. Free of the archaic rules and protocols that invited corruption into the halls of the Republic Senate, here the atmosphere constantly reminded the voices of Separatist worlds of their true purpose. To work with those seated besides them, to serve the people they heard.

Three-hundred and six senators were now in attendance. Bec could not remember the benches completely filled since the day the Confederacy was founded. Even the delegates of nominally neutral worlds such as Columex and Belderone could finally be found at their assigned seats, to the surprise of the murmuring hall.

All gathered, to vote on the future of their war for existence.

Bec rose to the timber Speaker’s dais that overlooked the debate tables, deftly activating the console before him with a practised hand. The matter of the Supreme Commander has been raised and struck down numerous times in this hall before, but with Republic fleets at their doorstep, the issue has never been so pertinent.

The Speaker’s console hummed to life, displaying all the relevant information he needed to govern the Senate. Bec viewed the list of attendees. There was the War Faction, buzzing with anticipation as their long-awaited agenda reached the closest it has ever been to passing. In stark contrast were the senators of the Peace Faction, easily identifiable by their grim silence.

Then there was the third faction, the Perlemian Coalition. As the name suggests, they were primarily formed of star systems facing the Republic onslaught, with some senators even representing already-fallen worlds. While smaller than either of the two major factions, they were still significant enough to swing the votes to either side. The War Faction seemed confident that the Coalition would vote with them.

Bec Lawise wasn’t so sure. As the Congress Leader, the Siniteen wasn’t blind to the corruption clinging to the Senate. The Bylaws outright banned the representation of corporations, but through loopholes senators from worlds like Muunilinst and Metalorn may as well be corporate delegates. It was, however, manageable. Like most Siniteens, Bec was a realist. Try as he might, there was no government completely free of corruption.

The problem was that the Perlemian Coalition was not corrupt. You only needed to lift the carpet a little to realise what the Coalition truly was; the thralls of an ever-overreaching junta of Separatist officers. Bec knew it was a body of necessity. The Senate was too divided on the war to supply any meaningful aid to the stalwart defenders of the Perlemian. And as such, when the officers created the Coalition to fill that purpose, the Senate turned a blind eye.

But now, as the Senate dragged and dragged their feet, the Coalition may have ballooned into something uncontrollable, and perhaps even worse than blatant corporate representation. Military representation. The Coalition now controlled the fleets and armies of over a hundred star systems, and only more falling into their arms as the Republic advances.

The fate of Euceron was a statement of what happens if you don't subscribe to their clause, and the Coalition senators knew it. They could not risk alienating the junta, and will vote for whatever they demand. The Coalition had to be placed back in check, and that was precisely the reason Bec–despite being aligned to the Peace Faction–will vote for a Supreme Commander.

Bec warily eyed the growing list of outside observers on his console, all observing the session through hovercam droids. There was the media, and then there were the officers. Admiral Trench. Admiral Tonith. General Ambigene. General Loathsom. General Durd. And a thousand more names with ‘captain’ and ‘commander’ and ‘colonel’ blurring together. They wanted to see who would lead them, or more optimistically for those of higher rank, whether or not they’ll be nominated.

Admiral Kirst and General Tann would be in attendance too, he imagined, if they were not fighting their own wars among distant stars.

He silently cleared his throat, pulling out the files he needed.

“May I have order in the House?” the Speaker’s voice boomed over the tables and benches, officially starting the session, “This session has been convened today to debate and decide on the confirmation of the executive nomination for the office of the Supreme Martial Commander of the Separatist Droid Armies.”

A tall Muun immediately stood up, towering over those around him. Bec waited a handful of heartbeats for any interruptions. There were none

He nodded, “The dais recognises the Senator from Muunilinst.”

“...There should be no debate!” Jen Hapha immediately declared the moment he reached the debate table, “The Loyalists are at our doorstep! Our fleets are disparate, our armies disunified. We need a strong hand to rally our forces and fight back against the oppressors!”

Bold, but it made the point well. Most of the seats were in agreement, applauding the statement, and only Mina Bonteri and a hard-line number of Peace senators were silently shaking heads in disapproval. Warily, Bec noticed none of the Coalition senators were responding in either direction.

A blip on his console caught his attention–a message from the Senator from Raxus Secundus, Avi Singh. It was a notification that Admiral Trench had been invited onto a local Raxulon NewsNet covering the debate. He looked up, noticing many Coalition senators staring down at their own tablets and consoles.

Bec’s lips drew out thinly. Admiral Trench, as the only major officer in-system, must’ve received hundreds of invitations. If he truly wanted to be heard, he would have accepted an invite from any larger media outlet. Bec found Senator Singh in the stands and gave a subtle, grateful nod.

Tawni Ames stood up to oppose the common consensus, patiently waiting for recognition. Senator Bonteri must’ve chosen Ames to speak on the Peace Faction’s behalf. Bonteri herself was too obvious; the Senator from Desix was known to be a much more moderate voice between the two factions.

“The dais recognises the Senator from Desix,” Bec announced.

She walked down the stairs and took a place at the debate table opposite Senator Hapha, “Desix opposes the motion.”

“You would allow the Loyalists to walk all over us, Senator Ames?” Senator Hapha fired at her.

“No I would not. And no we are not,” Senator Ames replied with steely calm, “At this very moment, the Coalition fights for us! A unity of worlds and officers! If this debate had risen at the start of the offensive, Senator, I would have agreed with you.”

Surprised murmuring rose from both sides. Even Mina Bonteri dug into the back of Ames’ head with hawkish eyes.

“However!” Senator Ames swept her gaze across the benches, her voice rising in tenor, “Electing a Supreme Commander now will only serve to disunify the already existing structure! It is too late! Do we want to flip the table on our only defensive body right now!? Admiral Trench is already in-system! He holds the highest rank in Perlemian space, and has fought bravely with the Coalition before! We don’t need a Supreme Commander; just give him a fleet!”

The Peace Faction erupted into cheers, and even some from the War Faction were nodding grudgingly. Senator Hapha turned around in ill-concealed panic, even more so when Coalition senators made their minds and stood to applause slowly.

It was masterful, Bec Lawise had to admit, both Bonteri’s strategy and Ames’ speech.

Voe Atell was shifting uncomfortably, no doubt realising Admiral Trench was on the news and likely reacting in approval. A War Faction senator who was in the pocket of the Corporate Alliance. An open secret, really. Admiral Trench, also on the payroll of the Corporate Alliance. There was a conflict there.

She stood up hastily.

“The dais recognises the Senator from Vassian.”

Senator Atell was already half-way down the stairs, barely at the table when she started speaking– “

“In that case, vote for Admiral Trench!” she pressed in a vain attempt to salvage the situation, turning to the Speaker’s dais, “Mister Speaker, who does the Head of State nominate for this office?”

“The nomination will only be revealed when this debate is settled,” Bec blinked his milky eyes, “Then, it must come to a vote. In accordance with the Bylaws of Independent Systems, a voice vote is required to proceed.”

The Speaker waited several seconds for a consensus to approach. When nobody moved to defer, he continued, “All in favour of proceeding, say aye.”

An overwhelming number of ayes rose up, and his console immediately began tallying the senators, reaching a simple majority in a matter of seconds.

“All those opposed, say nay.”

There were only a few discordant voices opposing the movement. Even though the House already knew the outcome, they waited in varying degrees of patience as the Speaker waited for the tally.

“The ayes have it,” Bec announced.

He received a datachip from his aide and made a show of plugging it into his console, “The executive nomination is… General Grievous. His file is now being transmitted to your consoles.”

The name was not immediately reacted to, but that was to be expected. The generals of the Confederacy were many, and not all are so well-known. But as Bec read General Grievous’ file, his own confusion joined the rising mire in the House.

Who is this person?

A life-sized hologram of the General burst out of one the tables, and a loud gasp was heard, followed by a stifled choke. The Senate was stunned into silence.

The file said General Grievous was a cyborg. But there was only a towering mechanical skeleton of servos and armour with clawed feet and hands. His cyborg nature was only shown through two cat-like eyes behind a skull-shaped faceplate.

“General Grievous,” Bec said aloud for the House, “He was a leader from his homeworld Kalee. During the Huk War, against the pleas of Kaleesh people, the Galactic Senate sided with the Yam’rii, which resulted in the enslavement of his people and exploitation of his homeworld. After prolonged fighting, he barely survived an assassination attempt that left his body brutalised. This explains the cyborg body.”

Terrifying at first glance, but a pitiful being underneath, was he not? A quick search of Kalee people proved Bec’s theory. His body was simply modelled after his people’s, a reportedly fierce but honourable race from the Outer Rim.

“In light of this,” he continued, “General Grievous has pledged his services to the Separatist cause. Our Head of State considers him a capable and valiant officer, who delivered the Confederacy great victories at Christophsis, Mon Gazza, Llanic, and Zhar.”

“Why would Count Dooku nominate somebody so unknown?” Senator Ames demanded, “I move that we defer this vote until a Senate Committee summons him to a hearing!”

“We have no reason to doubt his judgement, Senator!” Hapha disagreed, “In fact, it is proof of Dooku’s authenticity that he chooses an unknown General over more popular choices! General Grievous won Christophsis, despite being heavily outnumbered, even defeating numerous Jedi. Clearly, our Head of State considers him a capable–and not to mention veteran–rising star to back!”

The Senate roared in approval, fists and other appendages pumped into the air among a deafening applause that completely smothered out any opposition. Senator Hapha seemed to bask in the praise. This was as far as any debate on this matter has gotten, Bec though seriously. Every prior debate had been cut down by the Peace Faction early on. But with the Republic at their door, and Dooku’s popularity reaching new heights, the confirmation was all but decided.

Bec Lawise respected Dooku for what he achieved. It was with that respect, along with the burdensome failings of the Republic Senate, that prompted him to submit the Articles of Secession to the Republic Senate. But even then, this level of blind loyalty was admittedly worrying.

A blue-skinned humanoid stood up. Kerch Kushi, a typically non-aligned senator known for being a level head and voice of moderation.

“The dais recognises the Senator from Kaekay!” Bec’s announcement brought on a wave of quiet.

Senator Kushi waited until the last murmurings died, then spoke in a gravelly voice, “I will speak plainly. We may believe in Count Dooku, but it will be irresponsible of us to extend that trust to General Grievous. His service records are dry. His character is unknown. His competence, arguable!”

“He won at Christophsis–!”

“General Tann won at Christophsis!” Senator Kushi rebuked loudly, but not fiercely, “General Grievous entered the battle after she cleared out the Republic fleets in orbit. General Grievous was facing a trapped, demoralised, and undersupplied enemy! Mon Gazza, Llanic– that was a mop-up campaign! None of them are acceptable proof of skill! I concur with the Senator from Desix; a Senate Committee must be created to audit this General and conclude–”

Chaos reigned. Uproar and screaming, senators rising from their benches with opinions and counter-opinions. Some shouting that Senator Ames and Senator Kushi were speaking sense, others demanding expediency. Many in the War Faction were claiming the Coalition was inept, and did nothing to stop the Loyalist advance–much to Senator Atell’s chagrin.

She obviously wanted the War Faction and Coalition to come to an unspoken agreement. But with her own faction alienating their potential allies…

Mina Bonteri sat amidst the turmoil, still as a statue, eyes fixed on the rotating hologram of General Grievous. Avi Singh, similarly, was unmoving as a boulder in stormy waves. As Bec mentally calculated a reasonable amount of time for the arguing to go on, their eyes met. A deferred vote would reduce the vote’s chances of passing. Fervour in the Senate was high, and Bec Lawise was not above using it to his ends.

“Order! Order!” Bec chanted, amplifying his voice over the squabble and making the closest senators jump, “This matter will not be deferred any longer. According to the Bylaws of Independent System, an absolute majority is needed to confirm the Supreme Commander’s nomination. You may now cast your votes.”

Some senators immediately went to their consoles and tapped the screens, likely to abstain, while most of them began to congregate in groups around the hall to discuss the file. As Bec stepped down from the dais, he noticed Senator Singh waving at him.

“How are you feeling about the vote, Bec?” Avi asked, glancing around as if in search of somebody, “You will be voting aye?”

“I will,” Bec confirmed, “I’m feeling quite optimistic.”

“Then this will be good news to you,” Avi sucked in a breath, “Dooku’s downstairs.”

Bec immediately snapped to face him, alarmed beyond belief, “When did you–”

“Just now,” the Senator from Raxus said conspiratorially, “One of my aides informed me. He’s coming up to observe the vote. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Bec could laugh, “His very presence could make or break a vote.”

Avi nodded slowly, grimly, “I know.”

“You’re voting nay,” he realised, “Why?”

“It’s not a matter of principle, friend. That’s all you need to know,” Avi’s gaze moved past him sharply.

Bec turned to follow it, finding Count Dooku taking an empty seat on the upper mezzanine, right behind the Speaker’s dais. The war had aged him, that much was clear, but for a human at eighty years of age, he still carried that same fire he had since his time as Jedi. Already, some senators had gathered around him chattering in awe.

The House gradually grew quiet as people started to notice Dooku’s presence in the hall, mostly younger and War Faction senators. Despite the death sentence of her agenda, Senator Bonteri leaned into her seat amidst her faction’s anxious dialogue, content to wait out the vote.

“Which way do you suppose the Coalition will be voting?” Bec asked.

“I overheard some of their conversation,” Avi answered, “It’s on a knife’s edge. A lot of them want to vote for a Supreme Commander, for good reason, but Admiral Trench is absolutely disparaging General Grievous in the media.”

“Can you blame him?” Bec admitted, “He would accept it if it was General Tann, but Grievous came out of nowhere.”

“He knows the Pantoran is a worthy rival,” Avi agreed, “Grievous is a usurper, from that perspective. To tell you the truth, Bec, I had not heard of him until today.”

“I don’t think you’re the only one…”

“Good luck with the vote,” Avi said suddenly, extending an arm.

“Likewise,” Bec accepted it, before returning to the Speaker’s dais.

Senator Hapha reached Dooku and bowed in front of him, taking the opportunity to whisper something. Dooku tilted his chin down lightly in return. Seeing this, more people started to approach him.

“Fellow senators,” Bec called sternly, “Why don’t we all go back to our seats? Let’s follow procedure.”

They said the tidings and dispersed, many with smiles on their faces, others without.

“Count,” he greeted, “You do not usually attend in person.”

“If I allow myself to be consumed by my executive duties, I might never see sunlight,” the Head of State smiled wryly, “This is a change of pace I find myself sorely needing. And it allows me to more closely judge the state of our politics.”

Dooku was staring down at a section of the lower benches as he said the word ‘judge.’ It was the seat of the Senator from Columex, and the gaggle of Coalition senators only just scattering back to their assigned seats.

“I believe your nomination will pass,” Bec commented.

Dooku hummed noncommittally.

The Speaker finally reached for his console and selected his vote. With all their necessary discussions complete, the mainstay of the votes were now pouring in. Three-hundred and six senators, he reminded himself, that’s one-hundred fifty-four to pass.

“How is the count proceeding, Speaker?” Dooku asked.

Bec fixed his attention on the ayes/nays/abstain tally. 123/97/16

“Hundred twenty-one ayes,” he said, “Seventy votes to count.”

“Thirty to pass,” Dooku noted.

129/104/17

Bec nodded lightly.

136/111/17

138/118/17

There was a group holding off, he realised. Taking a cursory glance, he realised only the Coalition senators remained standing. Bec could feel Dooku’s intense stare targeted at the Senator from Columex. Then, the Senator from Columex tapped his console before retreating to his seat. As if waiting for precisely that signal, the rest of them submitted their votes. Bec had to force himself to drag his gaze back to the tally.

Three numbers shone at him.

149/140/17

He let out a breath in a silent sigh.

“The voting has concluded,” he announced, “The nomination has one-hundred forty-nine ayes and one-hundred forty nays. The nomination fails by five votes.”

The Senate roared with all kinds of reactions. The Peace Faction was suddenly reinvigorated, erupting in a massive applause while the War Faction screamed in outrage and cries of manipulation. The Coalition senators gave each other meaningful looks from across the hall, some visibly uncertain of their own votes.

“Sorry, Dooku,” Bec drowned them out, “Looks like it isn’t our day.”

Dooku was deathly calm, “No… I had expected this. This session has accurately judged the mood of the Senate. It is understandable; General Grievous is a new character in the military, and many do not trust him. I believe he will reveal his merits soon enough, Speaker. Then, we may vote again.”

“You are serious about this General?” Bec asked, “What about General Tann?”

“Grievous has impressed me,” he said, “And General Tann prefers to chase after her own quests. Thank you for the hospitality, Speaker.”

“Of course, Count. This is your government.”

“Never fail to remind.”

The aged man rose from his seat steadily. As he cut a path towards the exit, the shadow he cast over the debate tables seemed larger than ever.

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