When the communication session ended, the Jedi relaxed—just a little. And some of them allowed their emotions to surface.
"I'm surprised they survived that battle at all," Agen Kolar muttered.
"And doesn't it trouble you that a Je..." Kit Fisto began, only to be unceremoniously cut off.
"Vos is not a Jedi! He's a traitor! If anyone is to blame for his death, it is us. We sent him to Dooku, even though Vos was far from the best candidate. He was emotional and impulsive. And the Dark Side—he had already brushed against it. It's no wonder he succumbed to it again. If even that's not enough for you—his attack on a Jedi, his attempt to kill them, and most importantly—Force lightning, something not even all Sith dare to use, let alone Jedi… then all that remains for me is to thank Vikt for eliminating an enemy. As for the opinions of the rest of the Council… I don't know what to tell you, because you refuse to listen!"
Saesee Tiin burst into an impassioned speech that made the holograms of the other Masters stare at him in surprise. The Iktotchi closed his eyes and went still in his chair. Such emotional words had never before been heard from him. Tiin rarely took part in debates at all, preferring to think and reflect, interjecting only an occasional word or two.
"Ahem," Plo Koon hurried to change the subject. "Why did Jabba choose Vikt for the negotiations?"
"There could be many reasons. The important thing is that he succeeds," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, folding his arms across his chest.
"I knew his Master," Yoda closed his eyes, falling silent for several seconds. "An experienced Jedi—and a superb diplomat. Much he had time to pass on to his padawan before the latter became a Knight. All that is within his power, the Knight will do. No need to explain to him what this treaty means for the Republic."
"Vikt is quite… capable," the Cerean Ki-Adi-Mundi said, tugging thoughtfully at his beard. "He has proven himself a successful general—one of the few."
The Thisspiasian Oppo Rancisis nodded in agreement.
"I can count on the fingers of my hands those who possess a talent for commanding large numbers of troops, and many of them are seated here now. There are several thousand who successfully command companies, battalions, regiments—even legions. However, leadership of larger formations—corps, and especially armies—is within the grasp of only a select few."
"He is raising his Padawan remarkably well. A Force Barrier at such an age—that is an outstanding achievement," Shaak Ti noted, perceiving that Plo Koon spoke with a trace of pride.
"It seems to me he still neglects certain aspects of study," Mace Windu said thoughtfully, staring at a point beyond the window.
"Why so?" Even Piell asked with a hint of mockery. "The art of rhetoric is worth little against the art of war. Those who survive can tend to their bruises and scrapes."
Silence once again settled over the Council chamber. It was Oppo Rancisis who broke it.
"Who will inform Master Tolme… and Aayla Secura?"
The Masters exchanged glances, after which Shaak Ti let out a heavy sigh.
"I… will speak with Aayla."
"I will inform Tolme as soon as he comes on the line," Plo Koon replied.
The communications system emitted a sharp beep.
"Urgent message from Master Roblio Darte."
***
The red-haired woman standing in one of the hangars of the Jedi Temple watched attentively as a military shuttle landed. Mon Mothma stepped forward, heading straight toward Bail Organa as he disembarked, and gently embraced him.
"Bail! We were worried about you… What happened to your arm?!" she asked, glancing at the sling.
The Alderaanian flexed his fingers.
"Nothing serious—the doctors removed a couple of fragments. Christophsis was… difficult. We came under bombardment… there were many casualties. Thanks to the Jedi, it was resolved, but…" Bail looked around. "Now I find myself wondering—has it truly become this bad?.. What are you doing at the Temple?"
"Oh, come along—I'll tell you on the way…"
In one of the larger halls, the highest leadership of the Jedi Order had gathered. Along with Mothma, several other senators were present, among them Ask Aak.
Before them stood… a Jedi. The hologram conveyed his image with stark clarity: he could only barely be recognized as such — for the most part, he was swathed in bandages. His voice trembled.
"…It's hard to believe anyone would choose Parcelus Minor as the site of a battle. I can hardly imagine a worse place for two armies to clash. And yet the Separatists occupied the planet, not limiting themselves to a mere blockade of ships. By order of the Council, and according to a plan devised by Master Oppo Rancisis, I landed on the planet with my Two Hundred Fortieth Corps.
"Life there teems beyond measure. Forests everywhere, and these foul-smelling swamps. The native population spends half its life fighting the jungle itself. We were unable to deploy a single unit of armored vehicles. Everything had to be done by hand. The droids faced the same difficulties—but our intelligence miscalculated, underestimated the enemy's strength: they outnumbered us ten to one. And yet, we were winning—slowly and painfully, but winning.
"Reinforcements arrived—two more clone legions. We managed to deploy artillery. And then the Separatists received reinforcements of their own. Our forces on the surface and in orbit found themselves between hammer and anvil. We held on with everything we had, and it seemed we might endure. But… suddenly the Separatists decided they could afford to sacrifice their battle droids—they aren't alive, after all. And the fate of the planet did not concern them either…"
Hint of panic crept into the Jedi's voice.
"They began orbital bombardment. My troops, the droids—nothing remained of them but charred remnants. And fire, fire everywhere… The planet's flora exudes a resinous ceotin; the locals use it to fuel their lamps, as combustible material… It's highly flammable. Everything—the forests, the jungles, even the swamps—ignited under the turbolaser strikes."
The Jedi coughed convulsively.
"We evacuated all who could retreat and regroup. But the wounded… We couldn't evacuate the wounded. They burned alive. It was horrible… Horrible!.. I believe the planet is still burning. As we departed… we received a transmission. It was… Count Dooku. He said it was a lesson to those worlds that betray the Confederacy…"
The hologram flickered with static.
"Parcelus Minor is lost to the Republic. I have lost ninety-eight percent of my forces. They were clones, but… they were good soldiers. I liked them. I regret that I spent so little time with them…"
"Another Jabiim!" Ask Aak stepped forward, waving his arms in fury. "And I had the foolishness to think Master Rancisis a military genius!"
The Gran twitched his ocular stalks, a sure sign of his irritation.
"I have always said the Republic needs a strong army! And now we see the mistake we made—turning peacekeepers into generals!"
"Senator Ask Aak!" Mon Mothma stepped decisively toward the Gran. "You are overstepping every boundary!"
"Boundaries? In my view, it is the Jedi who overstep them! Such incompetence threatens the Republic with defeat! Especially since we all know the leader of the Separatists is Count Dooku—a former Jedi, one of yours!" The Gran jabbed an accusing finger at the members of the Council. "I question not only their abilities, but their desire to fight him! How do we know they are not in league with him?"
"Your accusations are baseless and verge on idiocy!" Bail Organa flared up. "The Jedi are the guardians of the Republic!.."
Some time later, she and Bail left the meeting.
"Ask Aak has never liked the Jedi," the irritated woman said, settling into the seat of the airspeeder.
"Well, of course. They curtailed Gran expansion by intervening in their affairs on Malastare," Bail replied with a faint smile as he sat beside her. "Though… it is strange that, being a supporter of Palpatine—who is currently courting the Jedi—Aak acts contrary to his line."
"But… the Jedi are not supporting us, which in a situation like this would be logical."
"Perhaps they simply have other concerns?" the Alderaanian murmured.
"I doubt it… We need to seek other allies."
***
The Togruta burst into the wardroom and dropped into the chair opposite her Master. He was studying some kind of diagram. His entire appearance suggested he had spent the whole day here, sitting in that very spot.
"Still preparing for those negotiations?" the girl asked, reaching for a decanter of juice. Today she had chosen to train outdoors, and even now, hours later—despite having showered—she couldn't shake the lingering sensation of heat.
"Yeah," the Jedi muttered. "And I see you've been slacking off?"
"I'm allowed!" the girl giggled. "I saved your life, remember? So there." Stretching her arms above her head, Ahsoka cracked her fingers.
"And why did I end up with such a self-serving Padawan?" the man asked, lifting his gaze toward the ceiling.
"I am not self-serving," the Togruta shot back. "Anyway, I came to say—there are a couple of Gamorreans outside. Jabba's servant is with them. Says the celebration's about to begin."
"Oh, excellent." Vikt smiled vaguely into space. "At least we'll get some rest."
The girl grinned.
"And why did I get such a lazy Master?"
"Ha-ha, very funny," the man grumbled, stretching as he rose. "Shall we?"