Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 306-308 - Scapegoat (Seeking Double Monthly Tickets)
While war rages across the Milky Way, in an inconspicuous corner of Coruscant...

The turbine elevator descended silently.

Bode Akuna stood between two guards, his wrists handcuffed, still wearing the uniform of the Republic's intelligence department.

The air in the enclosed space was almost frozen.

"Jedi is a traitor; kill him without mercy."

But less than an hour ago, the guard was walking side by side with the person in front of him.

Arrest your own superior?
Moreover, Bode Akuna showed no sign of resistance... which made them even more uneasy.

The moment the elevator doors slid open, they felt almost relieved.

Commander Rank Denwick stood outside the door, his uniform impeccably tailored, his expression inscrutable.

He glanced at the three men, his gaze icy.

"You summoned me, and this is what you show me?" His voice was steady.

A guard managed to speak: "Sir, we just received orders..."

“I know the order,” Denwick interrupted, “but Akuna is no ordinary Jedi. The intelligence he possesses is crucial to the intelligence service. I cannot hand him over to the army without interrogation. Understand?”

The guards exchanged glances, hesitant.

Denvik emphasized, "You may leave now. I will personally report the follow-up matters to Director Isad."

The lead guard operated the data panel, and the handcuffs clicked open. Bode flexed his wrists, his muscles tense, his gaze sharp.

"Keep up," Denvik commanded.

The two walked quickly through the base's intricate corridors, their movements silently tracked by surveillance cameras.

This floor was deserted, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing around it.

Upon entering the commander's office, the door closed behind him. Denvik stood leaning against the desk, arms crossed.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he asked in a somber tone.

Bode exhaled: "Sir, this has nothing to do with luck."

“…Damn it, Akuna. You’d better just say what you have to say, or I’ll hand you over to Isaad right now.”

Bode raised his hands: "A deal that benefits both of us."

He had worked with Denvik for many years and knew his ambitions well.

If handing over Bode would secure a promotion, Denwick would not hesitate... and vice versa.

Bode must be careful to strike a balance.

"You want to fake your death to escape capture?" Denwick narrowed his eyes. "The price will be high. Why should I help you?"

“The satellite attack a year ago, the denial-of-service attack, and now the communications disruption,” Bode quickened his pace, “don’t you think they’re connected?”

Denvik froze.

The satellite attack remains an unresolved disgrace for the intelligence community.

If this case can be solved, a promotion is just around the corner. Bode doesn't need to read minds to see through his wavering.

“…Go on,” Denwick finally conceded.

Bode raised an eyebrow.

The commander waved his hand impatiently: "Fine! I'll prepare your 'death' document."

Bode began by revealing part of the truth: "You're looking for a Jedi spy."

Then he dropped a colossal lie: "Code name 'Priestess'."

Denvik had a sharp eye.

Bode continued, "But the problem is, she works for separatists."

"One of Count Dooku's followers?"

"No. They came from the Jedi Temple, and later defected from the Jedi."

Denwick pursed his lips: "That explains it... those terrorists used lightsabers to cut open the entrance and implanted separatist speeches into the communications satellites. We originally thought they wanted to incite a rebellion in Coruscant."

“That’s the blind spot in the investigation,” Bode pressed closer. “The speech was just a smokescreen; what they really implanted was a virus… a latent agent that only activates under specific conditions.” “Bode,” Denwick poked him in the chest, “after the attack, we dismantled the satellite and examined every single bolt. If it were a virus, we should have discovered it much sooner.”

“Then you must have overlooked something,” Bode shrugged, “otherwise the intelligence department wouldn’t be in such a mess right now.”

Denwick paused for a moment, then finally asked, "Your source? How do you know about the virus? How do you know its codename?"

“…When that spy infected the satellite, he left behind a secret channel for communication between the Temple and the Separatist forces,” Bald replied. “I found fragments of the channel, as well as undeleted communication records.”

"For a year, the entire intelligence department has been completely unsuccessful, and you're the only one who found it?"

“I have my methods, sir. Although I don’t know the ‘Priestess’ identity, I do know that we have a common contact: Jedi Master Adi Gallia. You know her, don’t you?”

Denwick's face darkened: "Of course, every time we share intelligence with the Temple, we have to go through her. She's the Jedi's head spy and your contact. Does Gallia know about the 'Priestess's' betrayal?"

“I’m not sure, sir.”

"...Damn it. Gallia is a member of the Jedi Council. You mean there really is a separatist mole within the Jedi?"

Bode looked him straight in the eye: "There is only one way to find out."

"Our deal?" Bode pressed.

Denvik gritted his teeth for a moment and finally nodded: "Help me capture the 'Priestess' and continue to work for me in the shadows... even if the target is another Jedi... I will help you evade the army and all pursuit."

"make a deal."

"You're really decisive."

"I always do."

In this way, Bode successfully diverted their pursuit of the "priestess's" true identity and planted a pawn in the core of the Republic's intelligence department.

Palpatine's Republic betrayed the Jedi.

Adi Gallia is dead, and Bode doesn't know what the future holds for their Shadow Squad.

But he knew he would do anything to destroy this corrupt system.

For the cause to which Gallia was dedicated, he was willing to cooperate with the revivalists and even join forces with the separatists.

"The price? Someone has to be his scapegoat." Bode's voice was low, and there was a hint of resolute determination hidden in his eyes.

Commander Denvik frowned, took a step forward, and asked in a questioning tone, "So? The scapegoat you've chosen is the 'Priestess'?"

“They’re in the Jedi Temple right now.” Bode’s fingertips unconsciously rubbed his cuffs, his tone certain. “And I’m sure they just used the Temple’s backdoor program to send a distress signal to the separatist star system… I’ve seen the encrypted channel’s frequency in the intelligence department’s database.”

Denwick paused for a moment, then his tone turned serious: "...Give me evidence. Without concrete proof, the Planetary Security Department will not believe this accusation."

"The control room..." Bode had barely begun to speak when Denwick grabbed his arm and pulled him out. The two walked quickly down the temple's corridor, their footsteps echoing in the empty passageway. "I was organizing data before I was captured. The original records should still be in the control panel's cache; I didn't have time to delete them!"

As Denvik walked, he spoke in a deep voice into the communicator on his wrist: "This is Commander Denvik. Immediately connect to the Planetary Security Department's emergency hotline. This is the highest priority!"

Bode was being pulled forward, with only one thought swirling in his mind.

Sorry, Paris.

But you are the only one who can take on the role of "priestess".

Firstly, within the Republic, no one understands the true operation of the "priestess" organization better than you, and can perfectly handle subsequent questioning;

Secondly, like me, you will never die in vain before the Republic is destroyed; we will always find a way to break the deadlock.

He instinctively delved into the Force, trying to find that faint connection between himself and Barris.

Master Gallia's aura had long since dissipated into the Force, like a candle flame that had been extinguished.

Iscart's aura, however, was like an oil-soaked cloth, filthy yet strangely vibrant, slowly writhing within the dark veins of the Force.

Finally, he caught a whiff of Paris's presence.

It was an inextinguishable black fire, blazing and persistent, with the resolute determination to burn away all obstacles.

Bode breathed a sigh of relief. No matter what interrogation methods the Republic's intelligence department used, Paris would definitely get away unscathed, or even make them suffer.

Especially if he's secretly helping by passing on information behind the scenes.

"Stop this nonsense." Denwick suddenly slapped Bod on the back, interrupting his thoughts, his brows furrowed. "You're no longer a Jedi, you're an intelligence agent. Put away your 'force-sensing' habit and act professional."

Bode snapped out of his daze, quickly composed himself, and quickened his pace to catch up with Denvik.

(End of this chapter)