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“Disable, not destroy,” Master Obi-Wan Kenobi commanded, “We’re not here as conquerors.”

If her Master’s words had any effect, Ahsoka Tano could not tell. The skies above Botajef were rife with thunder and fire, hundreds upon hundreds of warships exchanging death among the towering cables of Botajef’s skyhooks. Even the words of the highest Jedi Generals were drowned out by the jamming and chaos, and the only verbal confirmation the young Padawan could hear was those of the 2nd Airborne Company sharing the gunship with them.

Ahsoka closed her eyes tightly as the Bad Kitty swung around, narrowly dodging as a flurry of laserfire streaked past, close enough to make the starboard hatch glow with heat. Her hands were snapped onto the overhead handles, knuckles white as she fought to keep her balance as the LAAT gunship veered through the battlespace. The hatches were completely sealed, and the holding bay was a dimly lit locker filled with dozens of rocking bodies, bubbling with frantic anticipation.

“Check your seals, boys!” Clone Commander Cody barked, “Those ports open and you’re feeling a little chilly–you’re dead!”

Ahsoka has witnessed the ritual what felt like a million times before; the soft yet satisfying clicks and rustles of gear. Double-checking rifle charges, patting the extra ammunition and ordnance belts, calibrating jetpacks, stomping the deck with magboots, the murmur of chatter over cycling comm circuits. And most importantly of all, ensuring their vacsuits were sealed properly.

“You too, Ahsoka,” Master Obi-Wan instructed, not unkindly, putting on his own helmet, “We’re landing in a hotzone, and it’ll be a miracle if the skyhook’s atmospheric shields are functioning.”

Her Jedi Master was steady and composed as always, and she could count the number of times the Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed out of his depth on one hand. Even as their gunship weaved through the siege, Master Kenobi was relaxed, one hand braced against the hatch and the other casually resting on his lightsaber hilt. Compared to him, Ahsoka was a frenzied jumble of nerves. She had to admit it grated her no matter how many times she saw it–how could he be so calm when they were flying into this?

One day, I’ll be just like you. She swore to herself.

Ahsoka snapped her helmet into place, specially designed for her Togrutan features, hearing the hiss and click of the vac-seal and the buzz of the digital HUD springing to life. She gave it a shake for good measure, eyes taking in the data-laced display and counting all the transponder blips and ID codes stuffed into the cramped holding bay.

Bandomeer was a walk in the park compared to this.

The gunship swerved again. The bulkhead groaned with the shockwaves of turbolaser blasts, close and far; explosions bracketed the hatches; the whine of starfighter drives cutting through the void.

I hate space, I hate space, I hate space!

Whose idea was this in the first place, anyway?

Oh right, it was Master Plo Koon’s, the overall naval commander of the Expeditionary Fleet.

Unlike their current predicament, with the Force screaming in her ears around every corner, the Siege of Botajef started as all sieges do; with encirclement. Ahsoka recalled the expanse of the Expeditionary Fleet, hundreds of warships dedicated to the capture of Botajef whilst hundreds more were deployed throughout Serenno space to take the nearby sectors. She thought it would be another simple fight, with the headless Separatists folding before the week was over.

But Botajef was not Bandomeer.

Botajef was not a mining world past its prime; it was the premier shipyard world of the New Territories, once supplying the entire galaxy with countless civilian freighters and liners. These days, however, the only ships emerging from these hallowed docks were gun-bristling battlecruisers and destroyers. The entire world was like a sea urchin; a veritable forest of carbonite elevator cables rose 325-kilometres from planetside into orbit, tethering a vast lattice of hundreds of orbital berths and supply hubs and graving docks–collectively known as the Botajef Shipyards.

Master Plo Koon was adamant that to successfully execute a planetary invasion of Botajef, they’d first have to take the Botajef Shipyards. Master Mace Windu, the overall army commander of the Expeditionary Fleet, agreed.

“Kitty, this is Crumb Bomber,” Ahsoka overheard on the circuit, “Do you read?”

“Loud and clear, Bomber.”

“Jag’s vac-heads say the birds got kicked up over the dropzone!” Crumb Bomber’s pilot relayed, and Ahsoka’s stomach dropped, “Ro-Ti-Mundi’s moving in to clear out the nests but we gotta drop early to make it!”

“I hear you. You’ve got the point!”

“Copy. Tell your boys and we’ll start our runs ASAP!”

There was a hiss and crackle, and Crumb Bomber’s pilot dropped from the circuit–likely to inform the other gunships. The 2nd Airborne Battalion had six gunships in total, flying in line ahead like a sea snake weaving through the steel kelp.

“General Kenobi!” Bad Kitty’s pilot wasted no time.

“We heard you, Captain,” Master Obi-Wan’s voice was measured, but Ahsoka knew him well enough to identify the displeasure in his tone. He hated this as much as she did. “Get us there in one piece, and we’ll handle the rest.”

“Copy that, General!”

The Jedi General nodded sharply at Commander Cody, and the clone marshal immediately started barking out the brief.

“You heard the big man!” he snapped over the comms, “We aren’t making it to the landing zone, and it’s going to be a cold drop! So check your gear again! Mag-boots, jetpacks, grapples and tethers! I don’t want to see any of you knocked without your boots on the deck, is that understood!?”

“Yes, sir!”

The clone paratroopers chorused their affirmation, shuffling around as they obsessively checked their gear again, plastoid bodies rocking into each other over and over. Ahsoka swallowed thickly, unconsciously patting herself as well. Suits sealed tight… hopefully. Mag-boots? She clicked her heels and stomped, feeling herself latch to the deck. Lightsabers? She fondled her belt, grasping at her waist until she came across the two familiar cylinders.

Then she checked it all again.

I hate space.

“Heads up, boys,” the pilot announced over the comms, Bad Kitty’s drives purring louder than before, “We’re making the run!”

And I hate the run!

Also known as the gunship’s final approach, the ‘run’ was the most dangerous part of any landing. It was the moment of storming right into the enemy base, into their cordons of point-defense and swarms of snub wings, past the safety net of friendly cover. It was the moment where more troopers died helplessly than any other, the moment where the only thing you could do was sit tight, wait, feel each lurch and shudder, and hope you didn\'t get vaporised the next second.

For Ahsoka Tano, it was pure torment. Trapped in the tight confines of the troop bay, she had no control over what’s happening outside. Her lightsabers, her training, her instincts–none of it mattered until the gunship\'s hatches opened. Until then, she could only grip the overhead handles, feel the vibration of the engines beneath her boots, and pray that the pilot could outfly whatever the Separatists threw their way.

Hope you’re having a better time than I am, Scout. The young Padawan thought humorlessly. It has been so long since she has last been in contact with her friend, Ahsoka could only hope Scout was faring well–or at least, better than her. Probably not, though. Can’t imagine going up against the kriffing Tombmaker.

Ahsoka ultimately decided to count her lucky stars that she was here and not there.

“Standby for depressurisation!”

The LAATs hatch slits opened up, exposing the bay to the cold void of space, and suffocating, terrifying silence flooded into the crew bay. The only sound Ahsoka could hear was her own thumping heartbeats, even as the battle raged around them, her lekku twitching with nervous energy.

She peered through the slits, and her breath caught in her throat as the seemingly endless expanse of the siege unfolded before her.

Hundreds of ships filled the void, a swirling melee of capital ships and starfighters battling for their own dominance. Venator-class Star Destroyers traded volleys of turbolaser fire with Separatist battlecruisers, their shields glowing under the relentless exchanges. Starfighters darted between the larger vessels like schools of minnows, weaving through flak bursts and missile trails. The orbital shipyards themselves loomed ahead, enormous floating islands of durasteel tethered to the planet below by the massive elevator cables that stretched down to the surface.

Beneath them, a Venator–the Ro-Ti-Mundi–listed dangerously as a Providence’s batteries pounded against her hull, engines flickering as her starboard wing snagged with one of the elevator cables. The cable snapped taut, and the 2nd Airborne Battalion could only silently watch as the massive battlecruiser’s engines failed, pulling herself and the skyhook plummeting into the planet’s surface. For a moment, Ahsoka could only stare, wide-eyed, as the warship and the collapsing structure disappeared into the atmosphere in a fiery trail.

“Holy kriffing shit,” Ahsoka whispered, wincing as the sudden deaths of thousands rattled in her head. Almost every skyhook was the centre of their own local battles, as Republic and Separatist armies duelled for control over them.

And soon, the 2nd Airborne was coming up on their own target.

“Eyes up, Ahsoka!” Master Obi-Wan snapped, a rampant urgency coloured his tone, “Stay focused!”

“I’m looking!” she yelped, casting a wary glance through the hatch at the shipyard looming ahead, “I’m looking!”

The skeletal framework of the orbital facility bristled with turrets, each one spitting red-hot fire at the approaching Republic forces. Clone Captain Jag’s ARC-170 wings were already buzzing around it, busy keeping the Separatist starfighters off their backs. Those aren’t Vultures, Ahsoka thought, those are citizen starfighter designs.

The gunship lurched again, this time accompanied by a shrill alarm. There was a triplet of smoke trails shooting out from one of the shipyard’s missile launchers.

“Incoming!” the pilot barked, “Brace!”

Ahsoka felt her stomach flip as the gunship was kicked into a steep dive, skimming the edge of a drifting wreck that had once been a Recusant-class destroyer. She barely had time to register the flash of an explosion behind them as the Bad Kitty pulled into a tight bank, evading the missile by a hair’s breadth. Smoke blasted through the slits, sending a wave of heat rippling through the cabin–and sending them inside careening against the port hatch.

“That was way too close–” but even as she spoke those words, somewhere in the distance, she saw another LAAT gunship spinning out of control, its engines sheared away by a direct hit.

“Keep it steady, Captain!” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through her jumbled headspace, calm and commanding. He glanced back at Ahsoka, his expression unreadable but his presence steadying in the Force.

The Force. She closed her eyes for half a heartbeat, letting it flow through her, grounding her in the storm of chaos around her. When she opened them again, her hands were steady, her mind clear.

“Thirty seconds to drop zone, boys!” the pilot called back, “Hold on!”

Bad Kitty jolted again as a flurry of green plasma bolts streaked past, too close for comfort. The clones shifted their stances but didn’t flinch. The gunship burst through a thick cloud of debris, the shipyard now filling the viewports. Ahsoka stilled as she took in the scale of it: a sprawling maze of girders, docking bays, and weapon emplacements, all connected by a lattice of turbolift tracks and catwalks. Six Munificents were still berthed at their graving docks, the clamps stuck or disabled, though their blazing batteries were very much active and acting as stationary turrets.

Commander Cody’s voice cut through her helmet; “Jetpacks ready! Grapples primed! Keep your tethers tight–we’re not losing anyone out there!”

Ahsoka’s hands went to her belt, checking her grappling line one last time. Her twin lightsabers were a reassuring weight against her sides. She didn’t have to look to know her Master was doing the same.

“Remember the plan,” General Kenobi said, “We land, secure the landing, and hold it until army reinforcements arrive. Stay close, and keep your heads together!”

“Five seconds!”

The gunship slowed, the side hatches fully slammed open, and the vacuum tugged at her, her mag-boots the only thing keeping her anchored. She unclipped her lightsaber, her thumb hovering over the activation switch. The gunship began to slow, its maneuvering thrusters firing in rapid bursts as it aligned with the drop vector. Outside, the skyhook loomed closer, a maze of girders, platforms, and docking bays. Defensive batteries spat streams of fire at the incoming Republic forces, and the gunships responded–missiles rocketing down green particle beams.

“Go! Go! Go!”

“Move, move!” Commander Cody roared, and the troopers around erupted into action, leaping into the blackness one by one, jetpacks igniting in bursts of blue flame.

“Rendezvous on the skyhook!” then, with a single, fluid motion, Obi-Wan leapt from the gunship, his figure silhouetted against the fiery chaos of the battle. Before she even knew it, Ahsoka was following him a heartbeat later, the icy rush of space enveloping her as she launched herself into the fray.

The stillness of space wrapped around her like a straightjacket, and her body tensed instinctively–bracing for sensations that never came. There was no wind to bite at her skin, no air to carry sound, no gravity to pull her down. The war raged on all around her, deathly silent, as if she was watching a holofilm gone mute.

The vacuum seemed to pull at her awareness, amplifying the smallest movements of her body. Every twitch of her fingers, every shift of her limbs, sent her drifting in slow, exaggerated arcs. Her lekku tingled uncomfortably, a faint phantom pressure she couldn’t place. Her heartbeat was still the only thing she could hear, its rhythm an insistent reminder of her life where life should not exist.

For a moment, she felt untethered not just physically but mentally, a flicker of disorientation that made her stomach churn. Behind her, the gunship veered away, its weapons firing in a desperate bid to cover their descent.

“Ahsoka!” Master Obi-Wan shouted at her through the comms, “Focus!”

She clenched her jaw and reached for the Force, grounding herself in its reassuring presence. Her breath came slow and measured, her hands steady as she brought the grappling hook to bear. She aimed and fired. The grappling line shot forward, the anchor catching onto a jutting girder of the shipyard. The pull of the tether reeled her in, the sensation of controlled momentum replacing the weightless drift.

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The shipyard loomed closer with every passing second, its massive trusses and platforms casting long shadows across the battlefield, too far and too near all at once. Her sense of scale warped, her eyes scrambled for purchase, her mind struggling to reconcile the massive structures with the lack of any ground to orient herself. How far out are we? She could only wonder–one klick, or one-hundred?

As she closed in on the platform, Ahsoka’s senses sharpened. She could feel the tension in the Force, a palpable warning of the danger ahead. The shipyard was alive with movement–battle droids and citizen soldiers scrambling into defensive positions, turrets swiveling to track the incoming Republic forces. The moment the first troopers slammed into the graving dock, Ahsoka braced for impact.

One, two, three–!

Her boots clamped down on the cold, unyielding metal of the deck, mag-boots whining to life and attaching her firmly, and the unsettling void finally released its grip on her. Within moments her lightsabers were blazing deadly neon arcs through the vacuum and parrying a barrage of crimson bolts that streaked toward her. Hundreds of clones were touching down, and dozens of walkers and tanks. From afar, Vigilance was laying down a thundering barrage to cover them from incoming Separatist warships, ARC-170 wings working overtime to maintain close-air support over the platform.

They surged forward, and Ahsoka moved instinctively, her sabers weaving a luminous shield that deflected the incoming fire. Each strike sent ricocheting bolts spiraling harmlessly into the void or into the metal plates of the deck. The Force guided her limbs, and she surrendered her body to it–out here, all it would take is one shot to tear through her vacsuit, one shot to kill. She gritted her teeth; and I’m not about to get shot.

She found brief refuge in the shadow of a lumbering AT-TE to regain her bearings, but didn;t linger for long–soon surging to join the vanguard. A Jedi Commander must be seen by their troopers! Clones poured out from their landing zones, forming staggered firing lines as they advanced under the cover of their walkers. AT-APs and TX-130 tanks roared into action, their blaster cannons laying down a suppressive fire that shattered row after row of battle droids.

“Enemy artillery sighted on the upper decks!” someone shouted in the comms.

“Calling in a suppressive bombardment! Standby!”

Ahsoka spun around just in time to see Vigilance’s massive main batteries flashing like stars, gargantuan bolts of energy the size of skyscrapers tearing into the skyhook’s defensive platforms. She didn’t have time to savour the sight–the Force screamed in an ear, and her lekku tingled with the premonition of danger. She hopped away just in time to dodge a high-powered bolt from above.

“Snipers!?” she shouted, angling her head up to see a squad of commando droids descending from the superstructure above, her warning punctuated by the distinctive snap of her sabers as she deflected a barrage of bolts aimed at the clones. “AT-APs, commando droids bearing down your port beam!”

“Copy that, Commander!”

The three-legged AT-APs pivoted their weight with an impressive agility for their size, bringing their huge cannons to bear and completely vaporising the section–with all signs of droids vanishing in the flashing fireball.

“Great shot!”

Ahsoka darted between cover and open ground, her lightsabers spinning in a deadly dance as she carved a path through the droid ranks. A squad of super battle droids lumbered into her path, their wrist cannons charging for a salvo. She leapt high, twisting in the zero gravity, her sabers cleaving two of them cleanly in half before her boots drew her back to the deck. The remaining droids exploded in a hail of blue blaster fire as the clones advanced behind her.

Her arms buzzed with adrenaline. This is it, she breathed heavily, eyeing the oxygen gauge on her HUD, this is what it’s all about. Not as good as fighting planetside, but solid ground was to die for. The roar of troopers on the comms, the tremors of the deck as massive walkers advanced, the thunder of distant artillery. This was where Ahsoka felt alive.

“Push forward!” General Kenobi’s voice boomed through the comms, “Secure the airlocks! We need access to the superstructure!”

Ahsoka nodded to herself, spotting the large durasteel structure in the distance, surrounded by barricades and teeming with droids. The Force whispered to her again, tugging her focus around.

“Second Airborne, with me!” she yelled, leading a charge toward the closest fortified airlock.

Blaster fire streaked past her, lighting the platform in a storm of red and blue. She felt the Force swell within her, and with a sharp push, she hurled a wave of energy forward, toppling a line of droids and clearing a path for the clones.

“Planting charges!” combat engineers rushed forth, the breach held open by the cloned troopers.

“Transmission from the Selfless!” a combat tech with a comlink booster pack announced, “The Four-oh-Fourth Siege Battalion has successfully seized their skyhook! General Reus is coming around with the Selfless to provide supporting fire!”

Ahsoka spared a glance toward the horizon, trying to spot the Selfless. Instead, all she saw were more Separatist reinforcements emerging from a graving dock, a fresh wave of repulsor tanks and droids marching to meet them. The dead littered the deck, droids and clones and army troopers. A part of Ahsoka twisted at the sight. But the deck then soon started to tremble, and she tore her attention back to the graving docks–where a massive doonium behemoth rose to swallow the entire platform in its shadow.

One of the Munificents had broken free of their clamps, and was now rising into the sky. Its ventral batteries clunked into place, and Ahsoka could almost stare right down their barrels to the capacitors within.

“Do we have an ETA?” General Kenobi asked. Ahsoka had lost sight of her Master in the chaos, but it was relieving to hear his voice.

“Half a minute tops!”

“That’s good,” Ahsoka huffed, “Because we got a star frigate bearing down on us, and I don’t want to be promoted from biology to physics just yet.”

“Walkers, take out those hardpoints! Standby for breaching charges!”

Ahsoka deactivated her mag-boots and leapt, just in time to spare herself a painless death. The screams of disintegrating troopers were cut short as the Munificent-class frigate opened up the platform, raking everything in red fire. Its rampage would be cut short, however, as it was punched to the side from a full Venator broadside, the Master Keelyvine Reus’ Selfless roaring into view with a vengeance.

“The airlocks’ open!”

“Move, move! Secure the skyhook! Take the turbolifts!”

The Jedi Padawan drew herself to the nearest solid ground, watching more and more army troopers land onto the skyhook. With the clones clearing the landing zone, quality had opened up the way for quantity, and massive transports were descending on the platform filled with thousands upon thousands of soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Ahsoka swivelled around.

That’s one, she thought, staring towards the other islands floating amidst the sea of fire, how many more to go?

⁂

The fighting was coming to a close, Obi-Wan Kenobi could feel it in the Force. There was still combat raging over some of the outlying skyhooks, but most of the Botajef Shipyards were now firmly in Republic hands. Standing in the command tower of the dockyards, the Jedi Master could see the once-pristine durasteel platforms scorched and twisted, littered with the debris of battle droids, Republic vehicles, and the shattered remnants of Separatist defenses.

Most of the bodies had been cleared off already.

Smoke curled into the thin exosphere, dissipating into the endless black above.

His Padawan, Ahsoka, was behind him, standing at the edge of the space elevator platform and staring planetside–as if imagining the upcoming battles to take Botajef itself. After all, the Botajef Shipyards were but one phase of the Siege of Botajef, and soon Master Windu would lead the mass assault on the world beneath their feet. Obi-Wan pondered the idea of bluntly telling her to relax, but decided against it.

The Force itself was still tense with the echoes of combat–it was beginning to settle, like ripples fading on a pond–but the high-strung energy was still buzzing. When he was still Master Qui-Gon’s Padawan, he himself could hardly calm down in a situation nowhere near as tense as this. Ahsoka was faring far better than he would have, that he was certain.

“Status report, Commander Cody?” Obi-Wan caught Commander Cody approaching from the corner of his eye.

Cody stepped forward, his armor scorched and dirtied. He carried his helmet under one arm, revealing a face lined with fatigue, “The skyhook’s secured, General, and the space elevator is operational, though it’ll need significant repairs before it’s safe for heavy use. The Second Airborne’s lost thirty-seven troopers, with another twelve critically injured.”

“And the army?”

The Clone Commander paused, as if he hadn’t considered the main army troopers who did the grunt work painstakingly clearing out the massive orbital platform.

“The… casualty reports are still coming in, sir,” Cody answered hesitantly, “But right now we stand around fifteen-thousand confirmed dead.”

Obi-Wan heard Ahsoka wince from afar, as if she felt each and every one of those losses pass in the Force.

“And this is only one skyhook,” she murmured. Hundreds of thousands–if not millions–dead before we even set foot on the planet.

He regarded his apprentice for a moment, “We’re at war, and I am afraid this won’t be the last of it. But it’s our duty to see their sacrifices through, Ahsoka, to ensure each loss brings us another step closer to peace.”

Ahsoka didn’t answer, wordlessly staring at the planet beneath them, tracing each and every strand in the elevator cable with her eyes.

Commander Cody coughed to catch his attention, “There’s another thing, General. General Plo wishes to speak with you.”

“Master Plo?” Obi-Wan couldn’t hide his surprise, “Of course, let me take it.”

The Clone Commander startled, “No, sir. He’s coming here. Personally. He sent word ahead that he will be waiting for you and Commander Tano at the hangar bay.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at Cody’s report, “Master Plo is coming here? Personally? That’s... unexpected.”

Ahsoka turned to face him, her brow furrowing in sudden interest, “Do you think something’s wrong?”

“Possibly,” Obi-Wan admitted, his tone cautious, “Master Plo wouldn’t leave his command unless the situation is particularly urgent.”

Commander Cody shifted slightly, his posture stiff but not betraying any more information, “He didn’t specify the reason, General. Just that he’d meet you both at the hangar bay. ETA is fifteen minutes.”

Obi-Wan nodded his thanks, returning Cody’s salute before the clone moved off to resume his duties, leaving Obi-Wan and Ahsoka alone on the observation deck. Ahsoka glanced at her former position, where she’d been staring down at the planet below, the long elevator cables gleaming faintly in the sunlight.

“Do you think this has to do with General Grievous?” Ahsoka wondered, “We never heard back from Taris.”

Perhaps. I, too, find it worrying that we haven’t heard from Master Piell or even Master Luminara in so long. I fear the worst. The Separatists have no shortages of monsters in their pockets.

Obi-Wan sighed and gestured for her to follow him toward the nearest lift, “It’s hard to say. But we won’t have to wait long to find out.”

They walked in silence for a moment, their boots clanking softly against the battered deck plating. Around them, clones moved with purpose, hauling away wreckage and tending to wounded comrades.

“Fifteen thousand,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Obi-Wan slowed his pace slightly, glancing at her, “Ahsoka–”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted, her voice tinged with frustration, “You’ve told me before, and I’ve seen it before. Hundreds of times. But I just can’t shake the feeling–”

“Good,” Obi-Wan agreed, his voice soft. “Never shake that feeling away, Ahsoka. If you can–if you can ignore the cost, if you can order men into battle without regard for their deaths… then you take your first step on the road to the dark side. You must never get used to that feeling.”

They reached the lift, and Obi-Wan keyed in the command to take them to the hangar bay. The doors closed, sealing them in a quiet bubble as the platform began to descend.

“However…” the Jedi Master stroked his beard thoughtfully, “I feel that we are nearing the end of this terrible war.”

“Really? I can’t see the end of it.”

“You’ve lived all of your adult life fighting it,” he sighed, “When Dooku is put to an end, the Separatists will see the writing on the wall. Then–you will be able to live in an era of peace.”

The lift chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal the hangar bay. The space was bustling with activity, ships landing and taking off, supplies being ferried to and from vessels, and medical teams rushing injured soldiers to safety. Amidst the chaos, a familiar figure stood near the entrance, his tall, masked frame unmistakable even at a distance.

“Master Plo,” Obi-Wan greeted warmly as they approached.

“Obi-Wan. Ahsoka,” his deep, filtered voice carried an undercurrent of gravity, “I am afraid the Open Circle Fleet will not be participating in the planetary assault.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Ahsoka blurted out.

“Celanon. I wish for the Open Circle to confirm the state of the Celanon System.”

“Celanon?” Obi-Wan mused, “That’s where the Ninth Sector Army was defeated by General Grievous, wasn’t it? Celanon is the last major star system before Serenno; I imagine it’s a foregone conclusion that Count Dooku would attempt to put a stop to us there.”

That’s when Master Plo Koon shook his head, gesturing for them to follow him into his shuttle for privacy, “That is what I wish for you to confirm, Obi-Wan. That Celanon is completely undefended, and that the road to Serenno is completely open.”

“That’s… unbelievable, frankly,” Obi-Wan half-laughed, “Not even Count Dooku would be so… where did this information come from?”

The grooves on the Kel Dor Jedi’s face deepened, “Admiral Trench.”

“Admiral Trench!?” Ahsoka hissed, “You mean that Admiral Trench!? The Old Spider?”

“Indeed, Ahsoka. I mean that Admiral Trench. Which is exactly why I must take this claim seriously.”

“But… he’s the enemy!”

“Master Rahm Kota decided otherwise,” Master Plo said in a tone that brooked no argument, “Phindar Station had permitted Admiral Trench’s warfleet to bloodlessly transit the Salin Corridor. While we have been busy at Bandomeer and Botajef, the Confederate Second Fleet has secured the Thesme and Kalamith Sectors leading up to Serenno, ostensibly paving the way for us.”

Rahm Kota? That man has always been a maverick, but he is also a soldier through and through. There was a reason the Republic assigned him to the critical stronghold of Phindar. To think he would find reason to let Admiral Trench, however…

“But why?” Obi-Wan pressed.

“Because the Raxus Confederacy views the Serenno Confederacy as a rogue, breakaway state,” Plo Koon said with a dry humour, “Much like how the Republic views the Confederacy as a rogue, breakaway state. Our scoutships corroborate this information, but I would like for the Open Circle Fleet to secure and monitor these spacelanes, just in case.”

“No… but why the Open Circle?”

“Because not all of us are so open to cooperating with the Separatists,” the older Jedi Master admitted easily, “To tell you the truth, Obi-Wan, some in the Republic, and in the Jedi Order I am pained to admit, cannot accept a conditional peace with the Confederacy. The Open Circle Fleet must secure these spacelanes so that we have reason to traverse them without worry.”

“Masters!” Ahsoka protested, “We’re talking about Admiral Trench here! This must all be one big trap! I don’t know what Master Kota was thinking, but–”

“This is no trap, Ahsoka,” Master Plo rebuffed firmly, “I have conversed with Master Kota personally, and he is not a Jedi who would make such a drastic act without meaningful cause. I would not have any of us disparage a Jedi Master of his character.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms, his expression calm but his thoughts churning as he absorbed Master Plo’s words. The implications were great, and not in a way that sat comfortably with him. Admiral Trench, one of the Republic’s most cunning and ruthless adversaries, aligning against Serenno was one thing… but to aid the Republic? On the surface, it seemed absurd–an enemy of such stature offering aid, even indirectly, to the Republic. Obi-Wan knew better than to dismiss such moves as mere coincidence.

Still, the Old Spider aside, none of this explained why the Republic–or more specifically, Master Kota and Master Plo–would entertain such a dangerous proposition. The Jedi Order had always aligned with the Republic in being wary of compromises with the Separatists, especially after the Attack on Coruscant. Yet here they were, considering the possibility of using Trench’s moves to their advantage.

Obi-Wan’s mind traced the threads further. If Trench’s fleet had been allowed through the Salin Corridor, it wasn’t a matter of oversight or miscommunication. It had been deliberate. Rahm Kota had permitted it, knowing full well the implications. Obi-Wan respected Kota as a soldier and a tactician, but the man’s maverick tendencies often led him down unconventional paths. This decision, however, bordered on reckless–unless Kota saw an opportunity, an opportunity Plo Koon knew about, but nobody else did.

…

What if Admiral Trench isn’t aiding the Republic so much as he is aiding the Expeditionary Fleet specifically?

Obi-Wan’s gaze lingered on Plo Koon for a moment longer. The Kel Dor was a Jedi of great integrity, and Obi-Wan never once doubted that he meant well… but if this truly was a conspiracy…

“How many Jedi are cooperating with the Separatists?” seeing no reason not to ask, Obi-Wan did.

“What?” Ahsoka gasped, aghast.

“Not cooperating,” Plo Koon corrected, but did not deny outright, “Our goals simply have us aligned on parallel paths. But to answer your question, Obi-Wan, it is not just Jedi, but everyone who wants this war to end.”

“A conspiracy,” Obi-Wan felt the need to sit down, “A conspiracy in the heart of the Republic.”

“You understand why I am sharing this with you?” the Jedi Master asked, “You understand why I say not all of us would be so open-minded?”

Radical, more like it!

“How many?” Obi-Wan asked again, more forcefully this time.

“Hundreds,” Plo Koon answered simply, “Hundreds of Jedi. Hundreds of senators and representatives. Thousands of star systems. Thousands of armies and fleets.”

Ahsoka was deathly silent, staring at the man who brought her to the Jedi Temple with wide eyes.

“Why?” Obi-Wan whispered, “We’re at the war’s end.”

“Because to counter a conspiracy we must have one of our own,” Jedi Master Plo Koon declared firmly, but not unkindly, “A Sith Lord sits at the heart of the Republic, wielding this war to his own ends. Coruscant is no longer the Jedi Order’s home turf, but the Sith’s. Even if we bring Dooku to justice, there is the very real possibility Coruscant will refuse to end the war, if it means treating with the remaining Separatists.”

“The Sith Lord has that much power?” Ahsoka whispered, “Master, with all due respect, you make it sound like the Sith is controlling the government!”

“Of course he does,” Jedi Master Plo Koon replied gravely, “He is the Supreme Chancellor of our Republic, after all.”