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30-Noble 6
🕑 Added 2024-11-17 01:18:47 +0000 UTCThe UNSC fleet emerged from slipspace in orbit around Naboo, bearing the scars of a fierce battle. The ships were battered; some still had pockets of fire that automated systems could not extinguish. Others were so badly damaged that parts of their hulls hung like open wounds, revealing interiors blackened by explosions. The Infinity, despite being the flagship, was no exception. Its surface was flecked with plasma scars, and several of its defensive systems were out of commission. On board, repairs were frantic, with technicians and droids working against the clock to keep the ship functional.
Behind them, the Republic fleet emerged from hyperspace, but the situation was even more desperate. Several ships showed obvious signs of having been on the brink of destruction; their hulls were patched with temporary energy shields that flickered faintly. There were noticeable gaps in the formation where cruisers that would never return had once been. The loss of those ships was not just material: they were floating coffins that had taken with them thousands of clones and civilians who could not be evacuated in time.
In the hangars, the Pelicans and LAATs arrived loaded with the few survivors. The clones seemed to have aged years in a matter of days, with empty looks and bodies covered in burns and wounds. The UNSC marines were not in better shape; many of them had torn and bloodstained uniforms, with looks of absolute exhaustion. The silence in the hangars was deafening, broken only by the moans of the wounded and the short orders of the doctors trying to stabilize those they could still save.
From the Infinity's command room, Arnet observed the scene with a stony expression. At his side, Serina projected data on casualties, damage and lost resources. “Admiral,” the AI said in its usually calm tone but now seeming tinged with gravity, “we have lost 45% of our deployed troops and 30% of our ships are out of action. The remaining resources will not be sufficient to sustain another large-scale operation without significant reinforcements.”
Arnet did not immediately respond. His gaze was fixed on the planet Naboo, which was spinning calmly below them, as if it had not witnessed the horror that had occurred on Tatooine. Finally, he exhaled sharply and spoke. “Order the ships in the best condition to prioritize the seriously wounded. I want full reports from all units within the next two hours.”
Meanwhile, in the Republic fleet, chaos was evident. On one of the Venators, a clone officer was rushing to deliver a report to the Jedi commander, who, like everyone else, seemed on the verge of physical and mental collapse. The losses were overwhelming: thousands of clones dead, resources destroyed, and most heartbreakingly, the civilian ships that never managed to escape. The few who survived were crowded onto the ships that managed to return, their faces filled with fear and despair.
On the bridge of one such ship, Anakin Skywalker stood silently, his hands clenched into fists as he watched the stars pass behind them. Beside him, Ahsoka Tano tried to process what had happened. “Master,” she finally said, breaking the silence, “do you think we did the right thing? Leaving so many people behind…?”
Anakin didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was laced with bitterness. "I don't know, Ahsoka. I don't know if we'll ever be able to say we did the right thing in this war."
On the Infinity, Arnet received an additional briefing. "Admiral," one of the officers said, "the Confederate prisoners are in custody. They all survived the transfer, but the situation with them will be... delicate."
Arnet walked through the halls of the Infinity with a stern expression, his immaculate admiral uniform contrasting with the heavy atmosphere that reigned in the ship. At his side, Aayla Secura walked silently, her face reflecting a mix of exhaustion and defeat. She had felt the disappearance of millions of lives on Tatooine, like a heart-wrenching cry in the Force that still echoed within her. The defeat was not just tactical; it was moral. Neither the UNSC nor the Republic could consider that anything close to a victory.
"How many more?" Aayla murmured, breaking the silence. Arnet turned his face slightly toward her, but did not respond immediately. She continued, “How many more must we lose before this is over? This wasn’t how war was supposed to go.”
Arnet sighed deeply. “If you’re hoping for comfort, I’m not the right person to give it to you. This… this is real war. There are no heroes, Aayla, only survivors and statistics.” His words were harsh, but his tone was laden with a raw honesty that Aayla, despite everything, could respect.
They reached the holding area, a section of the ship that seemed lifted from a grimmer place, designed not only to contain but to enforce authority. Spartan-IIs, tall and menacing in their armor, were stationed at every strategic corner. Spartan-IIIs and ODSTs patrolled with watchful gazes. The cells were power-enhanced, and those holding lesser figures like Nute Gunray, Wat Tambor, and Bec Lawise were less heavily guarded, though they still seemed impenetrable.
However, Count Dooku and General Grievous' cell was another matter. An impressive array of security surrounded it: automated turrets, real-time monitoring systems, and heavily armed Spartan-IIs watching every angle. Arnet stopped in front of Dooku's cell, his gaze fixed on the dark interior where the former Jedi sat, seemingly calm, but with a spark of frustration and calculation in his eyes.
"Impressive array for an old man," Dooku commented in his usual sarcastic tone, looking up at Arnet. "Are you afraid I'll just up and take this ship by myself?"
"Of course," Arnet replied in a dry tone, not giving Dooku room to continue. "I'd rather not underestimate you, Count. We've seen where that leads."
In the next cell, Grievous was pounding the energy walls with his robotic limbs, growling threats in a guttural language. “Release me, you insects! I swear I will destroy you all when I get out of here!”
Aayla stopped in front of Grievous’ cell, looking at him with contempt. “You are in no position to swear anything, machine. There is no droid army coming to rescue you this time.”
Meanwhile, Arnet reviewed the security reports projected by Serina on a handheld device. “Everyone here is a calculated risk,” he commented as he moved toward the cells of the minor leaders of the Confederacy. “We cannot trust them, but we cannot ignore the value they represent as bargaining chips or sources of information either.”
Aayla looked at him curiously. “And what is your plan, Arnet? What do we do with them? The Republic will want us to hand them over, but…”
“But we do not fight for the Republic,” Arnet interrupted firmly. “The UNSC has its own interests. Until this is over, they are in my custody. If anyone wants to discuss it, they can do so with me… or my Spartans.” His words were clear, leaving little room for debate.
Aayla looked down at Dooku's cell once more. There were so many questions on her mind, but they all seemed irrelevant compared to the overwhelming sense of loss that still consumed her.
"Where's Ventress?" Dooku asked, his haughty tone trying to hide the obvious nervousness seeping into his words.
"In the medical bay," Arnet replied evenly, crossing his arms as he stared at the Count. "She almost died, and we saved her. But don't worry, she's guarded by more of my Spartans. She's not going anywhere."
Dooku narrowed his eyes, clearly unhappy with the situation. “And what of you? What do you want? I don’t believe you came out of pure altruism.”
“We are not here for empty talk, Count,” Arnet replied firmly. “You asked for our help on Tatooine, and now you are in our custody. The question is simple: what did you ask for our help for?”
Dooku sighed, as if weighing his options, before deciding to throw in one last card. “Admiral, I believe there is room for negotiation here. My release may bring you benefits that your young and emerging military needs. I know the UNSC is not in an easy position, waging a war is expensive, and you lack a solid financial base. I can fix that.”
Arnet raised an eyebrow, though he showed no further reaction. “And what exactly do you offer, Dooku? It better be something worth my time.”
Dooku tilted his head slightly, with the confidence of a merchant who is about to close a deal. "My riches, Admiral. Everything I possess. I know that maintaining your military without financial backing is unsustainable in the long term. Plus, I can facilitate safe routes to planets currently outside of Republic control. Business, trade..."
"That's no use to me," Arnet cut in, his voice cold as steel. "Slipspace doesn't rely on the same routes as hyperspace. Your entire system of trade is obsolete to us."
The Count didn't flinch, and with a gesture of apparent magnanimity, he added, "Then, 100% control of the factories the Confederacy has hidden away. Places that even the Republic doesn't know about. Thousands of droids, weapons, resources... all under your control. Plus, I can convince planets not aligned with the Republic to join the UNSC."
Arnet stared at him in silence for a moment, his eyes analyzing every word, every expression of Dooku. "That sounds like a lot, Count. But what guarantees me that you're not simply buying time to betray me?"
Dooku smiled slightly, though the tension on his face did not entirely dissipate. "Admiral, I am in no position to betray you. My resources and allies are in shambles. All I have left is the chance to survive and ensure that my influence is not entirely lost. You are my best option."
Arnet glanced at the Spartans stationed nearby, then returned his attention to Dooku. "I have not yet decided what I will do with you. But one thing is certain: I do not trust you. And your 'offers' will have to be carefully evaluated. For now, you remain a prisoner, not a partner."
"Then at least consider my proposal," Dooku insisted, his voice barely containing frustration. "Because if you don't, Admiral, this war will only become more complicated for everyone involved."
"We'll see about that," Arnet said, turning away. "For now, worry about staying alive. My Spartans aren't as patient as I am."
And with that, he left the cell, leaving Dooku to his thoughts and the Spartans watching the Count's every move.
Aayla looked at Arnet with a hint of concern in her eyes as they walked down the Infinity hallway together. The atmosphere was tense, as if each step brought them closer to a decision that would change the course of everything. Finally, she broke the silence.
"Arnet, are you really considering Count Dooku's proposal? If you do this... the Senate is going to explode. This could be a political disaster for everyone, including you."
Arnet stopped in his stride, turning his head slightly toward her. His eyes, tired but full of determination, stared at her. "Aayla, the Senate already hates me. No matter what I do, I'll always be in trouble with them. So, if I'm going to do anything, it will be whatever I think is necessary to win this damn war. Nothing more."
Before she could respond, Arnet brought a finger to his communicator. "Noble 6, you know what to do. Take him away."
He had barely finished speaking when a group of UNSC soldiers appeared, led by Noble 6. Without words or explanation, they opened the cell of Bec Lawise, the senator of the Confederacy. The man stood up abruptly, immediately protesting.
"This is unacceptable! I am a senator! My rights must be respected! This is a violation of intergalactic covenants!" Lawise shouted, his shrill voice echoing in the hallway.
The soldiers paid no heed to his pleas. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the cell. The senator's boots scraped against the floor as he tried to resist in vain. Behind them, other soldiers secured the cells of Nute Gunray and Wat Tambor, though they were not removed at that moment.
Aayla watched as the soldiers dragged Bec Lawise out of the cell, his cries of protest echoing in the hallway. "This is unacceptable! I'm a senator! You can't treat me this way!" But her words were useless. Noble 6, impassive as a shadow of death, led the group without showing any emotion.
"Arnet, what are you doing?" asked Aayla as she tried to remain calm, but she couldn't hide the bewilderment and concern in her voice.
Arnet continued walking steadily, without turning to look at her, as if his mind was in a much more distant place. "Do you know who Noble 6 is?" he said, finally breaking the silence.
Aayla frowned. "He's one of your soldiers, right? A Spartan, like the others."
Arnet let out a slight snort, something between a dry laugh and a sigh. "He's much more than that. Noble 6 is not just a Spartan. He's one of the best I've ever met, but he's also someone who works in the shadows, on the dark side of our government. His true loyalty is with ONI."
Aayla tilted her head, intrigued. "ONI? What is that?"
Arnet stopped and glanced at her. “The Office of Naval Intelligence. They’re the ones who do the work no one else wants to do. Espionage, cover-ups, threat elimination. They keep order and peace in the UNSC, but they do it by getting their hands dirty in ways few could stand.”
Aayla gulped. Something in his tone made the conversation feel heavier than she expected. “And what does Noble 6 do, exactly?”
Arnet walked back, his words direct as a knife. “He does what needs to be done, without questions and without hesitation. He’s the one who eliminates traitors before they can do more damage, who ensures our operations remain secret, who acts when normal protocols don’t work. He’s the enforcer of a system that can’t afford to fail.”
Aayla followed him, trying to take in what she had just heard. “And that includes a senator of the Confederacy?”
Arnet didn’t answer immediately. She simply continued down the hall, as if the question didn't need an answer. "Peace comes at a cost, Jedi Secura. And it's not always a cost that others are willing to pay."
Aayla felt a chill run down her spine. Arnet's words, while pragmatic, carried a weight she couldn't ignore. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't sure she was on the right side of the scale. She continued to walk beside him, silent, as Bec Lawise's screams faded into the distance.
The Infinity hangar was a nightmarish place. The gloom was punctuated by the flickering lights of emergency vehicles and medical equipment. The heart-wrenching screams of the wounded echoed throughout the space, as medics and soldiers tried to maintain an impossible order. Bodies were piled in black bags, an endless line that seemed to grow with every minute. Civilians and soldiers of the UNSC and the Republic shared a space that made no distinctions between the victims of this war.
Arnet and Aayla Secura moved forward silently, their boots clicking against the metal floor. Aayla kept her gaze fixed on the chaos, unable to tear her gaze away from children crying for parents who would not arrive, from clones screaming for their fallen siblings, from ashen-faced civilians holding the wounded. Every step was a test of her Jedi serenity.
Arnet stopped in front of a makeshift stretcher where a Marine had a shattered leg. The man, sweaty and pale, could barely speak, but he raised a shaking arm in salute to the admiral. Arnet nodded briefly and continued forward, his jaw set and his eyes hardened. Finally, he spoke, his deep voice cutting through the noise of the hangar.
“Watch, Aayla. Watch every face, every scream, every black bag. This is not just a defeat. This is what it means to fail.”
Aayla swallowed, her eyes wet as she took in the horror around her. Arnet continued, his voice unrelenting but laden with suppressed pain.
"For over two decades I lived through this. Planet after planet, colony after colony. I watched it all burn as the Covenant swept away our lives, our families, our humanity. And I swear, Jedi Secura, I will not let it happen again. No matter the cost. No matter what I must do."
Aayla nodded slowly, unable to find words. The weight of Arnet’s words hit her like an inescapable truth, and in that moment she understood something deeper about the man in front of her. He was no soldier; he was a survivor determined not to let the past repeat itself.
The rumble of an LAAT entering the hangar broke the moment. The ship maneuvered with precision before landing with a thud. The side doors opened and out stepped Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, and a group of clones led by Rex, Echo, and Fives. Their armor was blackened and stained with blood, evidence of the battle they had just left behind.
Anakin strode toward Arnet, his eyes burning with fury. Ahsoka followed, trying to keep pace, while the clones stood a little further back, their gazes tired and solemn.
“Arnet!” Anakin's voice echoed throughout the hangar, drawing the attention of those present. "Where is Count Dooku?"
Arnet looked at him with the same coldness with which he faced his enemies. "In custody. You have nothing to worry about."
"Custody? Where exactly?" Anakin was visibly upset, almost shaking with frustration. "That man is responsible for thousands of deaths, and I will not sit idly by while you decide what to do with him."
"I do not decide, Skywalker. The UNSC decides. And as far as I know, your Republic has no power over what we do here," Arnet replied with a calm that contrasted with Anakin's fury.
Ahsoka intervened, trying to calm her master. "Anakin, perhaps we should..."
But Anakin ignored her, taking a step closer to Arnet. "This is not your playing field, Arnet. You cannot just do whatever you want."
“I am already doing that,” Arnet replied, his voice like ice. “And if you want to argue, do it with the rubble of Tatooine. Maybe you will find answers in the ashes of those we could not save.”
The air in the hangar grew even more tense as Anakin, frustrated and furious, ignited his lightsaber with a bright blue flash. The weapon’s distinctive sound caused everyone in the area to stop and stare. Alarmed, Aayla Secura raised a hand in calm as she stepped forward, placing herself between Anakin and Arnet.
“Anakin, stop!” Aayla exclaimed, her voice firm but conciliatory. “This will get us nowhere.”
Anakin, breathing hard with anger, pointed his lightsaber at Arnet, who remained motionless, watching him with a mix of disapproval and restrained calm. "Dooku deserves to die, Arnet! He has killed thousands, caused untold suffering. His fate is not yours to decide. It is a matter for the Republic, not the UNSC."
Arnet slowly crossed his arms, not showing the slightest reaction to the threat of the lightsaber. His voice came out low, full of an authority that did not need to be raised to impose itself. "Skywalker, put away your lightsaber. You are but a guest here, and I remind you that Infinity is not Republic territory. What we do with Dooku is our business. You may report whatever you wish to your Senate, but you will have no control over what happens here."
Anakin gritted his teeth, frustration burning in his eyes. Ahsoka, at his side, stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "Master, please. This is not the time or the place. This will only hurt us."
But Anakin was not quite listening to her. He took a step closer to Arnet, his lightsaber still ignited. "This is a betrayal of everything we have been fighting to protect. You have no right to make this decision."
Arnet held his ground, his voice growing colder. "Skywalker, your war is against the Confederacy. Ours is against the Covenant. If you think I'm going to let your Republic's emotions or politics dictate how I protect my people, you're more lost than I thought."
Aayla stepped forward, this time putting herself between them. "Enough, both of you! Anakin, you're letting your anger control you. You know this won't lead to any solution. And you, Arnet, could use some more diplomacy. We're all on the same side, at least when it comes to the Covenant."
Anakin took a deep breath, trying to control his anger, but he didn't extinguish his lightsaber right away. His gaze remained fixed on Arnet, who hadn't moved a muscle throughout the entire confrontation. Finally, after a few tense seconds, Anakin extinguished his lightsaber with a sharp gesture and turned to Ahsoka and the clones.
"This won't stay like this, Arnet," he said, his voice dripping with venom. “The Senate will know of this, and there will be consequences for your UNSC.”
Without waiting for a response, Anakin turned and began to walk away with Ahsoka, Rex, Echo, and Fives following silently behind him. Aayla watched them go with a worried expression before turning her attention back to Arnet.
The admiral exhaled calmly, his cold gaze still fixed in the direction Anakin had gone. “Consequences, sure. But they won’t be worse than what we’ve faced before.” He turned to Aayla and added, his voice barely containing his frustration, “I hope he understands before it’s too late. This isn’t his war, it’s our survival.”
End of Chapter 30.
