The Weaving Force: Chapter 78 (Patreon)

Chapter 78:

Victoria:

“General.” The salute was sharp, poised and picture perfect. All it did was convey how tense her friend was.

“How’s he doing Guelzo?” She asked as gently as she could.

It was Prachett who answered her, the squad’s medic snorting where he sat on the hallway bench. “Idiot wanted me to patch him up so he could go out and keep fighting.”

Vicky blinked, slightly surprised as she processed the information. “Weber told me he lost an arm.”

“I haven’t lost anything” Pratchett, she assumed, was mimicking Cid’s voice at that moment, which was odd because technically, their voices were identical. He pointed at a random spot to his right. “It’s right over there.” Again, the medic snorted. “Frakkin moron.”

In spite of herself, Vicky found a smile tugging at her lip, amused at the image of the assault specialists’ bravado; though the context of it swiftly had her amusement die again.

She breathed. “And the kids?” She paused, hesitating. “Tay? Have you seen her yet?”

Even through the helmet she could tell Guelzo wasn’t meeting her eyes, staring slightly past her. “Most are injured. Badly.” He answered succinctly. “Kestis is in surgery now; broken cheekbone, nose and orbital socket. Padawan Trilla, missing right hand, severed at the end of the forearm just above the wrist. Your own Padawan-” Here he hesitated again and Vicky flinched. “Lightsaber cut into his collarbone, heat damage reached the lungs, though the Saber didn’t make contact. Medics and droids say his Trandoshan regeneration will heal him. He’s expected to make a full recovery with some rest.”

She shuddered, her chest tight, realizing just how close she’d come to losing him completely. A Lightsaber didn’t stop at things like bones or meat or loss of momentum. It was almost pure luck it had stopped at all.

Guelzo held his silence, either noticing she needed a second or not really wanting to continue.

Either way she was grateful for the allowance to gather her composure.

“And the others?”

Guelzo hesitated a moment longer.

“Padawan Tano’s larynx was damaged. Windpipe nearly crushed. She’ll recover, though she’ll be eating soft foods for a while… Padawan Offee…” He stopped.

She knew then it was bad.

Prachett spoke up in his place… seeing his brother either having difficulty or simply not knowing how to tell her.

“Nearly cut in half.” The medic said grimly, a tremble in his voice betraying the emotions he wasn’t showing. “Slice just missed the pelvic bone. Carved through the neck of the femur. Only thing that saved her from bleeding out near instantly was the lightsaber’s cauterization.”

Vicky felt as though the air had been knocked out of her, her chest feeling tight as tears prickled her eyes and her hand rose to press over her mouth.

“Rancisis is with her now.” Guelzo continued. “Asimov agreed to take over as general coordinator here for him so he could do that.”

“Not Unduli?” She asked.

“Also injured.” Guelzo answered. “Don’t have her details. Some kind of high impact trauma. Blunt force.”

“What about Karla?” Vicky asked, her heart suddenly undecided of wether it wanted to sink down to her feet or rise up to lodge itself in her throat. “Is… Was she hurt?”

Is that what’s happened?’ Is that why she’d felt what she felt?”

Guelzo shook his head quietly.

Vicky’s horror must’ve shown on her face because Prachett immediately leapt to clarify. “She’s not hurt!” He declared quickly. “She’s… well-”

Vicky let out a breathless gasp of air that made her whole body shudder, glaring at Guelzo who realized his mistake, bowing his head. “Sorry… I’m sorry General. That was stupid of me.”

“Something happened to her!” She snapped. “Spit it out!”

“She killed the Sith ma’am.” Guelzo answered clearly this time.

Vicky’s brain screeched to a complete dead stop-

“She’s eight.” She felt the need to say. Confirm. Because what they were saying… it didn’t make sense.

An eight year old doesn’t-

“Took Cid’s scattergun.” Prachett spoke over the tumult of her fractured, spiraling thoughts. “Blew the bastard wide open.”

“She’s eight years old!” Vicky hissed. “She- she wouldn’t-”

“She did.” Guelzo cut her off. “General Taylor’s with her now…”

Vicky felt the need to swallow, reaching a tentative, tenuous touch through the force towards Iskt, and then Karla and finally Taylor.

Iskt felt… solid. For lack of a better word. A bedrock of certainty surrounded by a storm of emotions. It was not the reaction she expected. She’d… she needed to talk with him. She needed to talk with and help all of them. But Iskt specifically was her responsibility. He was her Padawan and she owed it to him especially.

Karla was a roiling, heaving tide. Too much, too fast. Conflict raged in her heart and mind. Self recriminations, self doubt, justifications, fear, sadness, disgust, anger… It was all too much, too fast. She couldn’t get a handle on it.

It was Taylor though… that scared her.

All she found there was a cold wall.

Never, not once since they’d gotten these abilities, since the bond between them, both physical or in the Force had manifested, did Vicky ever recall a single instance where she could feel nothing from Taylor.

There were moments of course, maybe when they argued, or when Taylor was particularly angry about something that she’d hold back so Vicky wasn’t affected or they wound up in a negative emotional feedback loop where Taylor’s anger fueled Vicky’s anger and Vicky’s anger fueled Taylor’s anger and so on-

But this… it felt like reaching out and brushing your hand against cold, dead flesh. Unresponsive, unmoving, and lifeless. A stark contrast not only to the body of memories she held, but also… with what she’d felt just a short few hours ago.

That towering pillar of rage and fire in the force.

She breathed, remaining seated for a long long moment.

The silence stretched on, both clones allowing it; her, in their own way the steadiness of blessed silence.

Finally, she forced her legs to work, reaching her feet with a steadiness she didn’t feel.

“I need to go see Iskt.”

The two brothers shared a look, the meaning of which she couldn’t discern before Pratchett stood. “I’ll take you to him ma’am.” He said.

She nodded woodenly, her head bobbing up once, and then down once more before she followed after Pratchett.

She followed the combat medic, entering the triage medical wing within the temple, finding hundreds of clones laid out, injured, resting or even now being actively worked on by swarms of medical droids. The sharp sting of antiseptic made her wrinkle her nose, the freezing cold within, even with the cluster of human bodies that should have added some warmth to the cluttered interiors.

She heard the hisses of discomfort, the held back cries of pain, with her own ears and through the force itself. Distant thoughts and silent, unspoken complaints drifted through the air like wafting smoke.

The men didn’t like being treated by droids.

Vicky tried to think, tried to visualize what it’d be like to be hurt, hurt by a droid and then feel cold, unfeeling hands holding you down, a clinical, emotionless drone speaking to you.

She wouldn’t have liked it either.

Maybe other Jedi or even other Generals wouldn’t think it was a priority. Not with everything happening. Not with all the damage done.

But she made a promise right then and there that this would not happen again. She would not let these men be treated like afterthoughts and disposable meat- that they couldn’t even have humane medical treatment or even the consideration of letting them be treated by something with empathy.

She would fix this.

But that was a project for tomorrow. Literally.

For today, right this second, there were other people she needed to help.

And call her selfish, but they had to be her priority.

Pratchett led her to a cordoned off section and she felt Master Rancisis nearby, his Force presence suffusing the air around him, and she realized his skill in Battle meditation was being repurposed in a sense, to touch the minds of the injured around him. To keep them calm, and ease their pain.

She wondered if he could teach her that. Or better yet… teach many others.

“Just in here ma’am.” Pratchett said, gesturing towards a drawn curtain.

She nodded, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ as she reached and pulled the curtain aside.

Iskt was conscious; drugged. But conscious. He opened his eyes languidly blinking, almost with a blank, unrecognizing look before it finally seemed to click behind his eyes who he was seeing. “Master.” He rumbled, trying to sit up.”

“Hey hey-” She rushed as quickly as her long legs could swallow the distance to be by his side, gently but firmly placing a hand on his chest to force him back down. “I’m here kid. I’m right here.”

The Trandoshans always had trouble with the letter ‘S’ often times sounding more like a long drawn out hiss, but the drugs made his words sound particularly slurred now as he spoke. “Sorry Master.”

She could almost feel a fist grab her by the throat and choke her as she blinked away the tears. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” She forced her voice to be steady, reassuring. Resisting the urge to fall to pieces as she spread out her senses and felt the fear, and the pain of all the Padawan’s around her, even in their dreams.

She was the one who failed. It had been her battle line the infiltrators had used to slip into the temple.

That line had been her responsibility and she fucked it up.

“Wasn’t strong like you-” The boy said. “Should’ve done better.”

She felt it then. That grounded, absolute certainty that centered him right now through the chaos of his own fear and pain.

Guilt.

He felt guilty.

He felt responsible.

She opened her mouth- finding the words dying on her lips. Knowing he shouldn’t feel that way but… dreading the very idea of robbing him of whatever was keeping him so composed now. Of what was, in effect, shielding him to a degree of the chaos his peers were feeling.

Is it the drugs? She thought- like a coward, squirming in her seat even as her hands reached out to clasp over his. His talons prickled as he grasped her palm in a weak grip.

“You-” She swallowed. “You did everything you could. No one could have done more.”

“I will.” He answered, confusing her for a moment before she realized what he meant a split second before he continued. “I’ll do more-”

She didn’t know how to deal with this. More than that, she didn’t know if he’d even remember this conversation when he woke up and the drugs wore off.

She needed time- time to think- time to talk with people smarter and better at this than her. Yoda, Master Plo. Beq or even Taylor.

She needed to know how to help and not… fuck this up more than she already had by allowing this to happen.

Her lip wobbled, she could feel it even as she leaned forward to give the boy a kiss over his brow ridge, already used to the feel of his scaly skin on her lips from the few other occasions she’d offered him an affectionate kiss before.

“Will you sleep for me?” She asked, her voice carrying the faintest Force suggestion within it.”

Iskt didn’t resist, likely didn’t even realize. “Yes Master.” He said, eyes closing obediently.

She stayed with him, holding his hand until his breathing evened out and his troubled mind calmed just that little bit.

Then she stayed longer,  sitting on a stiff, uncomfortable chair, leaning over his bed, elbows on the mattress, fingers threading through her hair as she struggled not to cry.

Finally, the storm in her own heart was beaten down, not calm, just contained, bottled up in the grasp of her own will and self control as she wiped at moist eyes, standing up and marching out.

Pratchett was still there, the Clone medic almost standing guard for her just outside the screen.

He turned, features solemn and grim… but kind as well.

He offered her a nod. “Ma’am.”

She nodded back, almost absently. “Can you stay with him?” She asked. “I… I don’t want him to wake up alone while I’m gone.”

The medic looked contemplative for a moment and she thought that he might refuse her for a moment, too busy, too preoccupied with his own duties before he spoke again.

“Should I call the rest of Noble Ma’am?” He asked. “See if they can do the same for the other lil’commanders?”

She couldn’t help it, the tears she’d been fighting sprang to her eyes, spilling over as she caught a sob in her hand and nodded, eyes clenching shut grateful beyond words that he was more considerate and mindful than she was in that moment.

He was kind enough to not comment on that either.

He snapped a sharp salute.

“I’ll see it done at once ma’am.”

—

She felt for Taylor in the force to find her.

And to her dismay… it proved difficult.

She wondered, again, if Taylor was mad at her. Mad for letting the infiltrators through her line and thus, blaming her for the kids getting hurt. She tried to push those thoughts away, but it was hard when she herself couldn’t help but lay the blame on her own shoulders.

As painful as it was to acknowledge… Tay was avoiding her. Hiding from her.

In the end, she followed Karla’s signature, hoping that she’d find Taylor by the young Twilek’s side.

It didn’t lead her to the med bay, or Karla’s room, or even the room she and Tay were sharing in the temple no.

It led her to a comm room.

Two clones were posted outside the door, guarding it.

She could sense them; their emotions in the force, a palpable relief moving through them like a rushing river as they caught sight of her.

“General Dallon.” One of them said, and she noted the minute sagging of his shoulders.

For good measure, he decided to add a ‘Glad you’re here ma’am.”

She blinked. Her concern growing, feeling her heart thudding under her ribs, with heavy ponderous thumps.

“Is… everything alright with General Hebert and Padawan Karla?” She asked.

The trooper’s head ducked and she noted the notches scratched at the crown of his helmet. Not a shiny then, a veteran. Maybe someone who’d served with them before.

“General Hebert is coordinating with the fleet right now ma’am.” He said by way of answer. “Padawan Karla is resting.”

Vicky blinked, knowing he was trying to convey something but she wasn’t sure exactly what.

He stepped aside, allowing her access to the door.

Vicky felt the… almost urgency in the prompt.

She didn’t hesitate, she didn’t allow herself to hesitate.

She walked in.

When she entered the room, it was the cold blue light of the computer consoles that greeted her,

Karla was laying down on a nearby couch, hugging Angelica to her chest, Angelica similarly latched around the tiny Twilek’s torso, her faint light side aura shining like a steady candleflame; trying to push away the troubled thoughts that made the young girl’s brows knit tightly together.

She was asleep. Either exhausted by the events of the day, or the emotional turmoil, or maybe even suggested into sleep like she’d done to Iskt just minutes ago- either way, her mind was away from the waking world.

That was…

There was a sound of a com-line being opened up, and Vicky noted that it was one of many.

“Yes General Hebert?”

She recognized Rex’s voice, Anakin’s Lieutenant was still in full battle gear and she could hear the sound of Blaster Fire in the background.

“Status?”

“Mop up is proceeding without a hitch. Those prototype droids have been rounded up and are being sent your way. Not joining the scrap pile as you ordered-”

Vicky wasn’t sure when she crossed the room, interjecting in the holo call before she interrupted. “Rex we’ll call you back later.”

She didn’t give him the time to answer, her finger pressing down on the button to abruptly end the call as she rounded on Taylor, a slowly building anger beginning to form within her breast.

“What the hell are you doing?” She demanded, her voice was as calm as she could muster. Almost soft. Trying to keep herself in check. Trying to wait for an explanation. Taylor always had a reason to do what she did. She was smart, deliberate. There had to be a reason for this… this…

Taylor didn’t look at her staring at the datapads strewn across the desk infront of her, her hand slowly reaching for one.

“Rancisis is busy. Unduli is injured. Cere and Anakin aren’t in the mindset to handle this right now so unless you-”

“And you are!?” She interrupted, her voice aghast she looked at the girl, unsure if she was sleeping or not and lowered her voice to make sure she couldn’t hear her as she leaned closer to hiss in Taylor’s ear. “Taylor… Karla killed a man an hour ago! You have other priorities right now!”

Taylor’s face was unnervingly blank. Even for her; and that was saying nothing good right now

Hell, her entire body, not just her expression, was frighteningly statuesque; now that she got a good look.

Then, Vicky noticed something else.

Cid’s shotgun was laying down by the table at Taylor’s side.

Her brain clicked, remembering what Guelzo and Pratchett had told her earlier as her mind reeled.

“Are you fucking crazy!” She balked, reaching and yanking the weapon off the desk her head turning on a swivel, searching for somewhere to stuff the fucking thing before giving up and flying as fast as she could towards the door, all but shoving it in one of the guarding clone’s chest- the man fumbling to grab hold of it.

“Get this the hell away from us!” She snapped, the door sliding closed as she ducked back inside; leaving two confused clones outside.

She turned back, looking at Taylor’s exposed back, the dark crown of her hair seemingly the only thing on her body that could move, swaying in gravity and the faint current of the heating unit’s air brushing across them.

She reached again in the force, searching, prodding, trying to find something.

Taylor’s mind, like her body and face, was impossibly, inhumanly blank.

Vicky’s emotions, already strained, frayed. Her patience and calm, never known to be an endless well to begin with; dried up like snow under a blow torch with the sudden ferocity of her fury.

Later, she’d regret what she said, knowing why she said it.

She wanted to hurt her, she wanted to see something. Something more than this… this empty shell of the woman she loved. This Soul dead ghost.

As frightening as it had been, as all consuming as that fire had seemed in that moment hours ago. She would take it. A thousand times she would take it over this thing standing in this room. This thing that was dead within the Force- a mocking betrayal to the woman she knew and had grown to love; the blank empty monster of herself.

“Looks like you’re more like your dad than you thought huh?”

Finally Taylor moved, her whole body tightening, muscles going rigid, not still, and the first crack of that armor, that cold dead layer around her mind slipped, spilling out the brush of heat and emotion across their bond.

And Vicky felt her anger die right then.

Very much like a damn, finally sundered and breaking under the pressure; the cracks widened, shifting and splintering, and that rigidity in Taylor’s muscles grew so taught Vicky was almost certain her body would snap like so many pulled strings.

Guilt was the first thing that struck her, an overwhelming feeling of failure crashing over Vicky. Angelica cooed squirming, either trying to shield the sleeping Karla or trying to reach Taylor.

Pain followed after, the pain of the memory of it, that moment she entered the room and saw the damage with her own eyes, the pain of the Padawans, that feeling in the force that struck her. Their fear, their panic and her own crushing helplessness.

Then she felt it, the least of it, but there all the same.

Hate.

Vicky knew, in that instant- Taylor would kill him again. A thousand times she wanted to do it. Through fire. Through insects. Through a hundred ways that she could think of and more she’d do it again and again. And even now she wanted to kill the man who sent him, regardless of how valuable he was as a prisoner.

Part of her was convinced she’d do it anyway; that she’d still be angry once that usefulness was spent.  No matter how long that took.

The rage was almost frightening, if it wasn’t so understandable.

Vicky floated forward, Taylor’s back was still turned. But now her body shook with that tension, and her hands were no longer leaning over the desk, but grasping it; fingernails all but digging into the metal to seemingly hold herself up.

Vicky’s hand rose, and she hesitated, hovering behind Taylor for a long, long moment before she reached and touched the woman’s shoulder, gently but firmly pulling her so she’d turn around.

Taylor’s every muscle felt like a corded band of steel under her touch, and when Vicky had her turn around her own guilt welled up in her heart.

The brunette’s face was still blank and unmoving, but the tears streamed down her cheeks, her unblinking stare almost had her eyes trembling within with the emotion she could no longer fully shunt away into her swarm.

Vicky’s other hand rose, both moving to the sides of Taylor’s head to pull her close into a hug before Taylor’s hands snapped up, grabbing hold of Vicky’s wrists.

Her grip was like iron, squeezing so very very tightly she was half certain that if it were anyone else bones would have snapped as Taylor’s body shuddered to an even more noticeable degree, her breathing becoming erratic and fast paced- and still her face hadn’t even twitched.

“I’m sorry.” Vicky said, seeing now the depth of emotion her partner had been shielding everyone, even herself from as it rose and crested.

The storm truly broke away from Taylor now, items in the room beginning to shake as Vicky gently pulled free of Taylor’s grip, reaching to finally pull her close, floating just above the floor so she could be taller for once, her own force presence trying to calm the tempest around them before it got out of hand.

She could feel Taylor’s shuddering breathing through her own clothes, the wetness of her tears leaking through as Vicky threaded long fingers through dark hair, and Taylor’s arms finally coiled around her waist.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated again, whispering it into her hair.

“I don’t know what to do.” Taylor didn’t sob. But Vicky damn near did it for her at the heartbreak in her voice. “I don’t know what to do Vicky.”

Vicky knew Taylor… she knew her well enough to truly worry at those words. That admission, the helplessness in them.

And she didn’t know what she could say. She didn’t know how to fix it.

“We’ll figure it out.” She said, grasping for something, anything to answer with, even if it was just a stupid platitude. “You and me against the world, right?” She tried to sound reassuring, though she was sure she failed seeing as how her own crying had finally caught up to her and her voice.

But even so, Taylor nodded into her neck, accepting the words like a drowning man accepts a life preserver at sea.

“We’ll figure it out.” Vicky promised again.

—

The problems didn’t go away with a well earned cry session; not by a long shot, and there were still many subjects to broach including both what exactly had happened to Taylor’s emotions during the fight and how Vicky herself felt about that “state” she’d placed herself in, that blankness- but it was a conversation for other days, calmer days.

She cajoled Taylor into getting some rest, and Karla, poor Karla, was welcomed to sleep in their bed that night, nestled between the two women who woke her up twice in the cold Illum night to chase away the nightmares.

Vicky tried to convince herself the next morning was better. She hoped it was at the very least.

Taylor seemed more composed. More put together. Weber visited to check in on Karla and promised to take her to Iskt who was feeling better already. The mop up operations that had gone on through the night were nearly done. Obi-Wan and Tiin had made it planetside and were now directing operations.

So she tried, and made sure to remind herself tomorrow was another day, and the next and the next and the next. As long as it took for things to get better.

But even so, it was almost a welcome thing when the Jedi Council finally contacted them.

Debriefs were boring, tedious. And right now she felt they could all use a bit of boredom and tedium.

“The attack has been repelled then?” Mace Windu asked, looking as grim and serious as ever. He was not in the Council chamber of Coruscant; she could tell. The chair was different, a fleet command throne, leading a different battle group.

Most of the Council members on the holo-call were seated on similar thrones. The vast majority even.

It spoke volumes without saying a word.

“It has been.” Master Rancisis answered.

“And the CIS fleet and their commander is intact.” Sora Bulq commented with a nod “You’ve done excellent work.”

“While the material results are more than we could have hoped for, it was not without its cost.”  Plo-Koon reminded firmly. “Taylor, Victoria… the children. How are they?”

“Not good.” Taylor answered. Her voice dull, something Master Plo no doubt noticed, his concern leaking through the force..

Master Rancisis took over. “Nearly all of the Padawans suffered significant injury that required medical intervention. At least one is still critically wounded.”

“Master Unduli was injured as well.” Anakin chimed in, rubbing at the faint stubble that had grown over his features over the last day.

“As bad as that is-” Obi-Wan grimaced. “I’m afraid I have to insist that we focus on the troubling material developments we’ve seen here.”

“The Jedi Hunter droids.” Adi guessed.

“Not just that.” Obi-Wan answered. “Yes, they are problematic, especially if the CIS continues to produce them in sufficient quantities. While I have no doubt even senior Padawan can outmatch them in bladework if they’re skilled enough, the Cortosis armor will allow them to threaten many unprepared Jedi regardless of rank.”

“Carry guns.” Taylor cut in at Vicky’s side with a voice almost devoid of inflection. “Solid slugs. Armor piercing. Does the job.”

Vicky saw far too many of the masters wrinkle their noses at the proposal.

“I concur.” Obi-Wan nodded. “If these are deployed in battlefields as specialist assassins to kill Jedi generals, specialist equipment or even the focus needed to bring the Force to bear might not be easy to come by. A simple sidearm can do much to nullify the threat.”

Vicky shook her head, deciding to cut in. “Aren’t we all like forgetting some shit here?” She half asked, half demanded, looking to everyone in the room and then the Jedi council. “They just hit us with another fallen Jedi like that C’baoth asshole” she sneered. “Someone who was apparently in contact with the big bad evil asshole called Sidious. That tells me big bad evil asshole’s been busy. Recruiting.”

“Recruiting Jedi you mean.” Tiin surmised from his place across the room.

“You know any other readily available glowstick wielders around the galaxy?” She couldn’t help the snark. It’d been a long and trying few days.

Tiin wrinkled his nose, whether it was at her tone or the implications she didn’t know or care much right now.

She opened her mouth, ready to hammer home her point when Taylor spoke up.

“He knew we’d be sent here. He knew to send these droids and that wasn’t public knowledge” She noted. “We have a leak. Not just in the senate but inside the temple.”

Vicky nodded. “Exactly!”

The Council fell into a muttering frenzy at that and it didn’t take long for someone  to speak up.

“Cirvan has been distant from the order for many years.” Ki Adi Mundi answered. “No doubt he went astray during his long years of absence from the temple. I will not believe any of those close to us have fallen based on one wayward knight’s failings.”

Vicky rolled her eyes. “Right. Cause the order doesn’t make mistakes?” She asked sarcastically.

Ki Adi Mundi narrowed his eyes at her, his mustache bristling, fingers tense where he clasped them together. “I did not say that. I am merely stating that if Sidious were to try to convert someone close enough to this Council or the happenings within the temple he would find it far far more difficult than one isolated, stray Knight who has not been seen within the temple in years. We would notice”

“He’s two for two by my count!”

“It is at least worth looking into.” Depa Billaba interjected.

“It is a tool of the Dark Side to sow distrust and deception!” Ki Adi contested. “We are playing into their hands if you indulge this paranoia.”

“The Shadows have been working themselves almost to death combing through the senate… I’m not sure we even have the resources to commit to a full investigation of the Jedi too” Master Poof admitted, fingers rubbing at his forehead.

“Enough!”

Mace Windu’s sharp voice silenced the debate immediately as Master Yoda stepped forward.

“Discuss this, over holo, we will not. When return to the temple, you do. Speak we will on this matter.” He promised. “Foolish we must not be- underestimated the Sith’s capacity for gathering information we have in the past. Secure this line might not be.”

Vicky could agree with that, at least he was willing to listen and wasn’t dismissing her out of hand.

Mace breathed through his nostrils, as if gathering his calm.

“Now that the fighting on Illum is done, how long before mop up operations are complete and you can return to Coruscant with the captured vessels and the prisoner?”

“One more week at least.” Tinn said. “I propose we leave a garrison here, enough to defend the temple in case of a second attack. The rest can be re-committed to other fronts.”

“Once fully rested they are.” Yaddle cut in, reminding them in her own gentle but firm way, the Clones were not just meat shields to keep throwing into the grinder.

Tiin nodded, not contesting her.

Mace seemed satisfied with that answer. “Good. We will have a full engineering and slicing team on standby for your arrival. While the mission was a great success it will all go to waste if we cannot extract actionable intelligence from either the fleet or Pors himself… We need to know where the Droid manufacturing centers are- if we don’t find out… I’m afraid that within six more months we won’t have the manpower to keep fighting this war.”

It was a grim portent; and Windu looked just as grim delivering it. But Vicky herself had seen the numbers, the projections.

She agreed with the assessment. She was pretty sure they all did.

Yoda nodded. “When return you do, prepare you must as well-”

“For what?” Anakin was the one who asked, then blushed as he realized what he did and all eyes turned to him. “Uhhh, Master Yoda. Sir.” He didn’t quite stammer, but it was close.

“An audience; requested it has been.” Yoda answered. “Wishes to meet all of you, Chancellor Palpatine does.

(X)(X)(X)

I'mma keep it real with all of you, the *events* of this chapter weren't planned, simply because the events of the PREVIOUS chapter weren't exactly planned either. The fight on Illum was never meant to be as long or as Brutal as it got

But it did get there and this is the aftermath and- all things considered- yeah I think its  what would happen. I'm admittedly a little nervous for a variety of reasons but I'm also kinda proud of this one honestly. Lemme know what you all think. :)