“If you’re not with us, then you are against us,” A’lora spat at Seridan. “You have served our purposes well in the past, Undesirable, but you no longer fit our ideals. We have lost everything - our income, our fleet, even our armies. We will have our revenge. We will rip the Grand Master’s regime down one asset at a time. And if you are not by our side while doing that, then you must be stopped before you can do damage. Expect to be detained.”
“Consul, plea--” Seridan pleaded, but the Togruta was having none of it. Two armed men stepped inside, gripping the Miraluka by the shoulders.
The day had started off so much better. A strong, sharp tea in the mess hall, a hot cross bun that was toasted just right, and a few juicy articles on the HoloNet had guaranteed a good mood. But then he’d started talking to other people. First it was just a few grumpy and clipped comments and looks, which Seridan assumed were just a result of the dissonance of their moods - they were moody for some given reason, and that clashed with his chipper attitude. But it had got progressively worse, with his closer friends glaring at him, intense dislike ebbing from their very beings.
He’d gone to the sparring chamber that had been requisitioned by Strike-team Ooroo first, expecting a buzzing atmosphere, as the SenNet techs worked and analysed data. But instead, there were the members of Ooroo, silently scrolling through their feeds, and a couple of tense, worried techs laboriously wiring up the terminals.
“You,” Aaleeshah shouted at the closest tech. “You’re too loud, and I can hear you clipping wires. Also, my datapad has stopped getting a signal - have you gone and frakked this thing up?”
The tech nodded, and hurried over to fix it, as if a servant. Seridan, sensing that he was quite unwelcome in such a room, continued to sip his tea whilst moving off to find somewhere else.
As he passed the Summit chambers, he heard raised voices within. “I don’t care how we destroy the Iron Legion, just that we do it!” Turr roared at Turel.
Turel didn’t blink as he backhanded the blue-skinned Pantoran in response, “You are nothing but a thieving lowlife, you wimp! The Iron Legion will be dealt with, after we dismantle the economies and livelihoods of the Clan capital planets. And then we will hunt down every damn Sith and Sith-sympathisers that has opposed us. That must be done first before we can even hope of taking on the Council. Just think, you dolt!”
Turr bolted back unright, following through with a cruelly covert uppercut. Turel was knocked back, but flipped himself and grabbed Turr by the neck. Turr struggled in his grasp, but the Proconsul held him steady. Behind him, Xantros stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “If I may, sir, I will, ahem, talk to this delinquent and teach him some manners, whilst trying some… social experiments at the same time.”
As Turr was escorted out by the Duros, Seridan stepped inside. The Human turned on his heel, eyes fixing on the Miraluka as if he were another target. “Ah, Ranger,” he started, an evil snarl in his tone. “I have heard that you were, gods forbid it, happy.”
“I was when I woke up, sir. Now, I’m not so sure. Everyone seems closed-off and not-at-all like themselves.”
“They have a reason. They recently lost everything they owned. Every trophy, every bounty they ever collected, gone. We have a plan, but you don’t know it yet. You have no reason to be happy.”
“Your plan? To go up against every single clan and win? With a meagre fleet and limited soldiers? We will be trodden upon. What happened to secrecy? To a plan where we protect those under our care, and bring them to safety? What happened to Jedi values?”
“You are becoming perilously close to misconduct, boy.”
Behind Seridan, a shadowed Togruta cut off Seridan’s only exit. “You were once our greatest follower. Now it seems, you are our greatest opposition. We have a… method of dealing with opposition. We learnt the trick from the Grand Master. And after all, if you’re not with us, you’re against us…”