The great audience chamber on Serenno was dimly lit, its towering pillars casting long shadows across polished marble floors. The atmosphere was heavy—not with grandeur, but with tension.
At the center of the chamber, the leaders of the Confederacy of Independent Systems had gathered.
Holograms flickered.
Voices overlapped.
And patience was wearing thin.
---
At the forefront stood Bec Lawise, the Siniteen Congress Leader of the Separatist Parliament. His elongated features were tight with frustration, his posture rigid as he addressed the assembly.
"This is no longer a matter of isolated setbacks," Lawise said sharply, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The situation in the Outer Rim—specifically within the Twelfth Sector—is deteriorating at an alarming rate."
Murmurs rippled through the gathered leaders.
Lawise continued, gesturing toward a holographic map that illuminated the chamber. Systems flickered in red and blue—control shifting, lines collapsing.
"Raxus now lies directly in the path of this so-called High Jedi General," he said, the title laced with clear disdain. "Every world we have taken in that sector has been systematically liberated."
The map shifted again.
Blue overtook red.
"Do you understand what this means?" Lawise demanded. "Our influence in that region has been reduced to the Raxus Sector, along with fragmented holdings in Saleucami and the Methalorn systems."
A pause.
"Everything else—lost."
---
A sleek hologram flickered to life beside him.
Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation, raised a thin hand dismissively.
"These are temporary losses," Gunray said, his tone oily and controlled. "War is fluid. Gains and losses are inevitable."
Lawise turned sharply toward him.
"Temporary?" he repeated. "We have lost entire supply lines. Entire garrisons. Fleets."
Gunray's expression did not change.
"And yet," he replied smoothly, "we continue to gain ground elsewhere in the galaxy. You focus too narrowly, Congress Leader."
He gestured lightly.
"The Mid Rim campaigns progress favorably. Our allies press the Republic on multiple fronts. The war is far from decided."
---
A new voice cut in.
Measured.
Cold.
San Hill leaned forward, his Muun features illuminated by the pale glow of the hologram.
"While I agree that localized losses are not uncommon," he said, "there are… anomalies that cannot be ignored."
The room quieted slightly.
Lawise narrowed his eyes.
"Go on."
San Hill clasped his hands.
"Recent reports from Hutt-controlled territories indicate repeated attacks on convoy routes. Entire shipments—destroyed. No survivors. No salvage."
A murmur spread through the chamber.
Gunray frowned slightly.
"Hutt territory?" he said. "What concern is that of ours?"
San Hill's eyes flicked toward him.
"It becomes our concern," he said calmly, "when those same Hutts begin retaliating."
The room stilled.
"What are you implying?" Lawise asked.
San Hill activated another hologram.
Grainy footage appeared—blurred, chaotic.
A corridor.
Blaster fire.
Then—
A flash of red.
A blade.
Moving too fast to follow.
"The attackers," San Hill continued, "are not conventional forces. Survivors—those few who escaped initial engagements—report a single individual."
He paused.
"A warrior."
The image froze.
A silhouette.
A red glow.
"A red lightsaber," San Hill finished.
---
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Gunray shifted slightly.
"A rogue Sith?" he suggested. "Impossible. The Sith are… limited."
Lawise's gaze hardened.
"Or perhaps," he said slowly, "not as limited as we believed."
San Hill inclined his head slightly.
"Whatever the case," he said, "the result is clear. The Hutts—traditionally neutral—have begun targeting our supply routes in retaliation."
He let that sink in.
"Our logistics are now under pressure from both Republic forces and independent criminal syndicates."
---
"And what of General Grievous?" Lawise demanded suddenly.
The name shifted the room's focus.
A towering hologram flickered to life.
General Grievous.
Cloaked.
Imposing.
Absent.
Lawise's voice sharpened.
"His offensive was meant to secure the hyperlanes. To destabilize the Core. Instead—"
He gestured violently.
"It was destroyed."
Murmurs rose again.
"His fleet shattered. His forces routed. And the General himself—"
He paused, his voice cutting like a blade.
"—fled."
---
Gunray's expression tightened slightly.
"Grievous is… a valuable asset," he said carefully. "He has recovered from defeats before."
"Not like this," Lawise snapped.
"The Twelfth Sector was supposed to be vulnerable. Instead, it has become a fortress. A staging ground for Republic expansion."
He turned, addressing the entire council.
"The Ash sector reports confirm it—our ships destroyed in coordinated strikes. Territory lost. Influence collapsing."
His voice rose.
"And now Raxus itself is at risk."
---
At the head of the chamber—
Count Dooku sat in silence.
Watching.
Listening.
Absorbing every word.
His expression remained calm, almost detached, but his eyes betrayed a deeper calculation.
Lawise turned toward him.
"My lord," he said, forcing a measure of control into his voice. "The Separatist Parliament demands answers."
The chamber quieted completely.
"All reports indicate a single point of failure," Lawise continued. "This… General Dagon Marek. His actions have reversed entire campaigns."
He stepped forward.
"If Raxus falls—if our capital is threatened—then the legitimacy of this Confederacy will be called into question."
A pause.
"And there are already whispers," he added quietly. "Of… alternatives."
Gunray's eyes flicked toward him sharply.
"Be careful," he warned.
But Lawise pressed on.
"Certain senators," he said, "may be persuaded to consider peace negotiations with the Republic."
The words hung in the air like a threat.
---
Dooku finally moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He rose from his seat, his presence commanding immediate silence.
"The concerns of the Parliament are… noted," he said, his voice calm and measured.
Lawise watched him closely.
"But you offer no solutions," Lawise said. "Only observations."
Dooku's gaze shifted to him.
Cool.
Unyielding.
"War," Dooku said, "is not won through panic."
Lawise stiffened.
"Nor," Dooku continued, "through reactionary decisions driven by fear."
A subtle tension rippled through the room.
Gunray nodded slightly, eager to align himself.
"Exactly," the Viceroy said. "We must remain—"
Dooku raised a hand.
Silence returned instantly.
---
"This General Marek," Dooku said slowly, "is… an interesting development."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"A Jedi who does not behave as one should."
San Hill leaned forward.
"You believe he is the one behind the Hutt attacks?"
Dooku did not answer directly.
"Possibly," he said. "Or perhaps merely a symptom of a larger shift within the Republic."
Lawise frowned.
"That does not solve our problem."
"No," Dooku agreed.
"It does not."
---
He turned away slightly, his cloak shifting with the movement.
"But it does… clarify the board."
The room waited.
"Grievous will adapt," Dooku continued. "He always does."
Lawise scoffed quietly.
"He fled."
Dooku's gaze snapped back to him.
"And lived," he said sharply.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"A dead general learns nothing," Dooku added. "A living one… evolves."
---
He stepped forward slightly.
"As for the Hutts," he said, "their loyalties have always been… transactional."
San Hill nodded.
"Then we must renegotiate," Dooku continued. "Or… remove the variable entirely."
Gunray shifted uneasily.
"The Hutts are not so easily—"
"Everything," Dooku said calmly, "is removable."
---
Lawise clenched his hands.
"This is not enough," he said. "The Parliament requires action. Assurance."
Dooku studied him for a long moment.
Then—
"You will have it," he said.
But there was something distant in his tone.
Something… already elsewhere.
---
Moments later—
The council chamber began to dissolve as holograms flickered out one by one.
Lawise remained standing, his expression dark.
"This is unacceptable," he muttered. "We cannot continue like this."
Gunray glanced at him.
"Careful, Congress Leader," he said softly. "You tread dangerous ground."
Lawise didn't respond.
But his silence spoke volumes.
---
Elsewhere—
In a private chamber deep within Serenno's estate—
Dooku stood alone.
The room was dark.
Quiet.
He activated a secure holocommunicator.
A shadow formed.
Indistinct.
Powerful.
"My master," Dooku said, bowing his head slightly.
"I believe we have… a complication."
The shadow shifted.
And the real game—
Began to change.