23 BBY: Onderon
We contacted the king through an emergency com-link, briefing him on the situation. He swiftly dispatched local authorities to contain the aftermath. The political landscape here was growing increasingly tense, each misstep threatening to destabilize it further.
Suppressing my emotions, I reflected on the gravity of the situation. With the authorities managing the immediate fallout, we received instructions to report directly to the king.
As we approached the throne room, the guards stepped aside, allowing us entry. King Ramsis sat upon his throne, his posture tense, his fingers drumming on the armrests. Anticipation and unease were etched across his face.
"Jedi," he began, his voice sharp with frustration, "I hope you have an explanation for this. This violence has spiraled out of control, and the fallout only makes it harder to maintain my stance of neutrality."
Master Jorik stepped forward, bowing slightly. "King Ramsis, we deeply regret our inability to resolve this matter peacefully. However, the situation is far more complex than we initially understood. My student encountered an assassin while stationed outside the rebels' base. I will let her explain further."
At this, I stepped forward. The weight of the moment demanded respect, and though I loathed the idea, I knew keeping my mask on would be a grave insult. With a soft hiss, I removed it, feeling its absence keenly as the cool air touched my face. I raised my gaze to meet the king.
"If I may have your permission to speak, Your Majesty."
The king inclined his head. "You do. Please, proceed."
I kept my tone measured, every word deliberate. "While Master Jorik went inside the rebels' hideout to negotiate, I stood guard outside. While I was standing there, I was grazed by a stun round fired from the rooftops. The nature of the attack was clear—they intended to take me alive. Recognizing the threat, I engaged in self-defense and disarmed the assassin. However, when I attempted to interrogate them, a device was remotely activated, killing them instantly. It was a clear effort to prevent any information from being revealed."
The king leaned back, his expression darkening as he absorbed my words. "I see. The evidence my men retrieved aligns with your account. Whoever orchestrated this is meticulous—they've erased any traceable leads."
This was my moment to press my suggestion. I straightened, ensuring my stance conveyed the confidence and authority necessary to make my case.
I wasn't just proposing a solution for him; I was crafting a narrative that would shield me from the attention of those who might seek to exploit or eliminate me. Being thrust into the political spotlight was the last thing I needed, especially when it meant drawing fire from unseen enemies who clearly had resources to spare.
The king's precarious position could work to my benefit. If I could align his interests with mine, I would gain more than just his cooperation—I could create a buffer between myself and whoever had sent that assassin. This wasn't just about protecting his throne or the Republic's influence; it was about ensuring I remained free to act on my own terms.
Pausing for a fraction of a second, I drew in a measured breath, letting the weight of the moment settle. My mask may have been off, but my control over this conversation was firmly in place.
"King Ramsis, if I may make a suggestion."
The king motioned for me to continue. "Go ahead."
"Given the gravity of this situation, I strongly advise against making the attack on me public. Announcing an assassination attempt, particularly one involving a Jedi, would embolden your enemies and sow further discord among your people.
I suggest you frame this incident as a localized skirmish between rebel factions. And the Jedi got caught in the crossfire trying to mediate. Emphasize that the Jedi assisted you in restoring order and ensuring peace. This narrative will not only protect your position but also give us the leverage to investigate the true culprits without drawing undue attention."
The king's brow furrowed as he considered my words. "You believe keeping this from my people is the best course of action?"
I inclined my head. "Yes, Your Majesty. Transparency has its place, but in this instance, it could do more harm than good. Stability must come first. A public revelation would only serve to destabilize the delicate balance you are working to maintain."
The king nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Very well. I can see merit in your counsel. My advisors will ensure the narrative is controlled. But I expect results, Jedi. Whoever is behind this must be brought to the spotlight."
"Understood, Your Majesty," I replied, bowing slightly. "We will see this through."
22 BBY: Coruscant
The king managed to suppress news of the Jedi's involvement, containing the incident for the time being. But his reign was already doomed. By the time the rebels reorganized, their backing revealed depths far beyond anything the king could have imagined. His grip on power was violently torn away, and the newly established government declared its full allegiance to the Separatist movement.
With the political tide shifting and no conclusive leads to follow, I had little choice but to lay low. I'd wanted to continue my investigation, but the Jedi Council saw fit to take over, dismissing my protests with their usual self-righteous authority.
The Jedi Council—inept as ever.
They cling to their ideals as if they're sacred scripture, blind to the realities of the galaxy around them. Their ability to navigate anything beyond their precious dogma is laughable at best, dangerous at worst. This organization wouldn't last a week in a true free-market system. Their product—"peace"—is barely viable, and their leadership is staggeringly incompetent.
I refuse to let their inadequacies drag me down.
Leaving the Jedi won't be straightforward, of course. But as I see it, I can solve two problems at once: rid myself of this outdated order and escape the target painted on my back. The solution? Sublimely distance myself from them. It sounds dramatic—and perhaps difficult—but in a galaxy of this scale, I'm sure I can prove my worth elsewhere in the Republic.
The galaxy is descending into war, which provides the perfect cover. I've always detested war for its inefficiency, but even I can't deny its usefulness as a smokescreen. The Jedi Council claims to protect peace, yet their willingness to dirty their hands in conflict is plain for all to see. They've proven as much with their recent maneuvers, quietly entangling themselves in military matters.
The so-called "Guardians of Peace"? What a joke.
I've heard whispers of a clone army—discovered by none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi, who stumbled upon its existence in the most convenient of circumstances. An entire army, secretly bred and trained over decades, hidden from the galaxy. And yet, the Jedi leadership, with all their supposed wisdom, had no idea it existed. That fact alone is staggering.
Even more troubling is the separatist droid army that Kenobi also uncovered, which bears eerie similarities to the droids sent after me during the ambush. The connection is glaring. Whoever targeted me likely has ties to the Separatists, though proving it remains elusive.
This entire situation reeks of suspicion. The clone army, the droid army, the escalation into war—it's all too convenient. The Jedi leadership seems either oblivious to the threads binding it all together, or worse, complicit in their ignorance. This is bad business on every level. Any organization that can't even manage Trojan horses will inevitably fall apart.
And yet, for now, I can't simply abandon the Jedi. Not yet. Timing is everything, and I must tread carefully. To leave prematurely would be to invite suspicion, and that is a luxury I cannot afford.
Still, I refuse to be a passenger on this sinking ship for long. The Jedi Order is heading for disaster, and I intend to step off before it takes me down with it.
As the first battle of Geonosis erupts, officially igniting the flames of galactic war, I steel myself for what's to come. Jorik was sent off to fight. I thanked him for guiding me and allowing me to be his student. While I didn't like the Jedi, I had no reason to have any ill will toward Jorik. His connection might come in handy one day. But this is only the beginning of the war. I could only lay my head in my hands in misery as I contemplated the inevitable chaos, knowing full well that the Jedi's incompetent leadership would only exacerbate the challenges ahead.
I loathe the prospect of war. What an inefficient mess and waste of resources. But this war is nothing like I have ever seen; its participants, the Separatists and the Republic, are not drafting their citizens for the military; instead, the armies are a proxy. A battle between fabricated metal and flesh on a galactic scale. I can only imagine the madness that awaits.
After submitting my report on the situation in Onderon, Master Yoda summoned me to the courtyard. I hadn't expected the leader of the Jedi Order to personally indulge my request. Then again, with Yoda, intentions were never straightforward.
I found him standing beneath the ancient courtyard tree, its gnarled branches swaying gently in the breeze. His gaze was fixed upward, as if seeking wisdom in the whispering leaves. A fitting metaphor, I supposed, for the Jedi's perpetual reliance on abstraction.
"Glad you are here, I am, Knight Valken," he greeted, turning slightly. "Your mission, turbulent it was. Unaware of your assailant, the Council was."
"They knew a great deal about me to coordinate such a strike," I replied, my tone measured. "Far more than I anticipated."
"Hmmmmm." Yoda's ears twitched as if to punctuate his thought. "Yes, A looming darkness I sense in the Force."
I pressed further, hoping for something actionable. "Do you have any clues as to who they might be, Master Yoda?"
"Answers I do not have," he admitted, his voice tinged with quiet regret. "Concerned the council is. War I see. Pain throughout the galaxy."
He almost seemed to dodge my question. I didn't have time to dwell on this for now. He undoubtedly has little time here. His acknowledgment of the war was a small admission, but I seized it. "Then the Jedi must be prepared to fight."
Yoda shook his head, his expression one of calm resistance. "No. Defenders of peace, we are. Unjust aggression, we will not permit. Suffered, the Jedi already have."
Internally, I sighed at the contradiction. War had come whether the Jedi liked it or not. Clinging to a vainglorious ideology in the face of such overwhelming conflict wasn't noble—it was suicidal. Somehow Geonosis was conisdered peaceful to him? But I held my tongue, masking my frustration. This wasn't the time for confrontation.
"Grand Master Yoda," I said, careful to keep my tone neutral, "I once again ask for your wisdom."
Without a word, Yoda turned and began walking toward the temple. Elusive as ever. I hesitated only for a moment before following. He led me to a quieter hall, the stillness amplifying the sound of his cane tapping against the floor. Finally, he spoke.
"Knight Valken, fail the Jedi have. Preventing the war, we could not. Failed to negotiate, we have. Learn from our mistakes, you must. The Jedi's future rests in you, it does. Heal, we must. Prevent further conflict, we must."
His words felt heavy with a mixture of reflection and denial. To him, this was a lamentation. To me, it was confirmation. I'd given the organization a chance by speaking with its leader directly, but my suspicions were validated. Any leadership plagued by ideology was doomed to fail. A refusal to recognize reality wasn't just ignorance—it was incorrigible incompetence. History had shown that time and again. It was time to end this conversation.
"Master Yoda," I said, bowing slightly, "our conversation has been most insightful. I thank you for taking the time to see me."
Yoda regarded me with his usual cryptic expression. "Knight Valken, smart you are for your age. Good to see you, it always is. The Force with you, it is."
"And with you, Grand Master," I replied evenly.
As I walked away, I felt no satisfaction—only a resigned sense of finality. The battlefield is no place for Jedi ideals. It is a realm of survival, not morality. Trying to sway Yoda's perspective had been a fruitless endeavor, just as I'd suspected. You can't reason someone out of a position they have come to unreasonably; this case is especially evident.
Still, I couldn't entirely abandon my position. If Yoda couldn't be reasoned with, perhaps I could sway the rest of the Council. I didn't have much hope for success, but it was a path worth considering—for now. My alternatives, after all, were dwindling fast.
22 BBY: Jedi Archives
In light of my past experiences, I had no desire to find myself on the front lines again—not if I could help it. Fortunately, I managed to sidestep deployment with that so-called "Jedi strike team" sent to Geonosis. Sometimes, my age worked to my advantage. Few questioned leaving a child out of the initial chaos.
Still, the toll of prolonged exposure to combat had left its mark on me in more ways than I cared to admit. I knew avoiding the battlefield wouldn't be easy, so I resolved to take the initiative. That's what brought me here to the Jedi Archives, surrounded by shelves filled with millennia of tactical records and military analysis.
If I was going to stay off the front, I needed to make myself indispensable elsewhere. My plan was simple: develop innovative strategies and tactical frameworks suitable for this war, then present them to the Council. Proving my value in strategic development would cement my position in the rear—where I could contribute to the war effort on my terms.
And so, without wasting a moment, I set to work. The Jedi may see this as a place of peaceful learning, but for me, this was a war room. I began developing a plan I dubbed the "Specter Strike Maneuver."
The solution wasn't to meet them head-on but to fight where they were weakest: their over-reliance on overwhelming numbers, infrastructure and intimidation tactics. The Specter Strike Maneuver revolves around a small, stealthy task force designed to infiltrate enemy territory, disrupt critical supply chains, and sabotage fleet operations. Unlike traditional engagements, this tactic focuses on crippling the enemy's ability to fight rather than destroying their ships outright. We would focus on bleeding the enemy while conserving our forces. A augmented version of guerilla tactics. Honestly, this reminded me of the plans I presented to Zettor. I sigh as I think about his revelation of total war again.
The task force would be composed of stealth-equipped frigates and fast Corvettes, that use hyperspace lanes to infiltrate behind enemy lines. Timing and precision are crucial; the fleet must avoid detection to ensure the element of surprise. We might also be able to use probes to help develop lanes.
Once inside Separatist-controlled space, the task force focuses on key logistical targets: supply depots, fuel stations, shipyards, and communication hubs. Precision strikes with ion cannons and surgical bombardments disable infrastructure without causing widespread destruction. The idea is to cripple the enemy's operations, forcing them to divert resources to repair and resupply.
After completing their objectives, the task force employs decoy drones and false transmissions to mislead Separatist forces. The goal is to create the illusion of a larger Republic fleet operating in the area, spreading confusion and drawing enemy fleets away from the front lines.
The task force retreats via pre-planned hyperspace routes, avoiding pursuit and returning to Republic space with minimal casualties. With no clear trail, the Separatists are left scrambling to address the chaos caused by the strikes.
With that being said, we would need an intelligence network reliable enough to identify targets for the task force. I should consider developing a plan for a potential intelligence gathering network as well. Well, I could propose this as my next project after I get approval.
While my investment in developing this research was to keep me from the front lines I did not want to rule it out entirely. After all, I am a promising young Jedi, my capabilities would most likely see value on the front lines. In the meantime If the Council approved it, I would ensure my name was attached to its success. It would position me as an indispensable strategist, keeping me from the front as long as possible.
The day finally came to present my work to the Council.
"This strategy doesn't require large fleets or extensive resources," I began, standing before the semicircle of Jedi Masters. "It leverages what the Republic already has—stealth technology, fast ships, and skilled pilots. It's not about engaging the enemy directly but about outthinking them. By targeting their logistics and infrastructure, we can weaken their operations without risking costly fleet engagements."
The Council exchanged thoughtful glances. Mace Windu leaned forward, his tone sharp. "I do not see how this plan benefits the Jedi. We are in a time of crisis, Knight Valken. We cannot afford to waste resources on maneuvers like this while the Separatists are actively attacking Republic worlds."
I met his gaze evenly, keeping my expression neutral. "Respectfully, Master Windu, wars are not won by defense alone. We must confront and defeat our enemies where they are most vulnerable. Based on my research and simulations, this tactic minimizes our vulnerabilities while maximizing our impact. It allows us to strike decisively while maintaining strength in defense."
Yoda nodded slowly, his ears twitching. "Insightful, this plan is. But Jedi—keepers of peace, they are. Offensive actions, they cannot condone. Approve this plan, I cannot."
It took every ounce of composure to keep my shock from showing. They couldn't be this shortsighted—could they? The strategic value of disrupting supply lines and denying the Separatists resources was obvious. Yet they dismissed it outright? How could they not see the danger of perpetual defense? All it did was hand the enemy the initiative, time, and momentum.
I steadied my voice as I turned my gaze back to the Council. "I hear your concerns, Masters, but with respect, waiting for the enemy to attack us only cedes the advantage to them. The Republic cannot afford to stay idle while the Separatists grow stronger."
Mace Windu shook his head. "The decision has been made. While your contributions to the Order are admirable, and your potential untold, this plan does not align with the Jedi's role in this conflict. I'm sorry, Tanya."
I forced a polite smile and inclined my head. "I understand, Masters. Thank you for your consideration."
There was no use in arguing with fools. I bowed, dismissed myself, and left the chamber with measured steps, though my mind churned with frustration.
As soon as I reached my quarters, I let the mask slip. "Shit!" I hissed under my breath. "This ship is sinking faster than I thought. I can't stand working under such incompetent leadership."
The Jedi's inaction was staggering. In my past lives, I'd dealt with plenty of flawed superiors, but this level of willful blindness was a new low. Attacking the Separatists' supply lines was basic strategy—elementary, really. Even a fledgling corporation understands the value of securing its logistics. But it seems the Jedi, in their infinite wisdom, have no concept of vertical integration. But no, the Council couldn't bring themselves to approve anything that didn't align with their archaic philosophy.
I paced the room, my mind racing. "Wait," I muttered, stopping in my tracks. "The Jedi aren't the only ones with influence over war direction." If this market doesn't sell, I'll just move my business to one that does.
The military.
Unlike the Council, the Republic's military command would appreciate the value of strategy and efficiency. If I submitted the Specter Strike Maneuver to them, they would surely see its merits and, with enough pressure, shield me from being sent to the front lines under my original guise of strategic development and research.
The Jedi might control my fate within the Order, but the military could sway their hand. If the Republic's generals saw the merit in my plan, they could make a case to keep me here where my skills were better suited.
I sat down at my desk, determination coursing through me. "The Council's incompetence won't stop me. I'll just go over their heads."
Opening my datapad, I began organizing the strategy into a format the military could appreciate. If the Jedi couldn't see the bigger picture, I'd make sure the Republic's generals did.
And so, I got to work.
21 BBY: Republic Military Command
A seasoned politician-turned-military strategist sat in his modest but well-appointed office at Republic High Command. The war's rapid escalation had cemented his position as one of the key voices in shaping the Republic's military strategy. Yet, as the months dragged on, his disdain for the Jedi Order's heavy involvement in the war effort had only grown sharper.
The Jedi—keepers of peace, they called themselves—were ill-suited to lead armies. Their pacifistic inclinations, while admirable in principle, often clashed with the harsh realities of war. Their adherence to outdated codes and philosophical ideals made them unreliable in the chain of command. Useful, yes, but ultimately an obstacle to true military efficiency.
He had seen it firsthand. Though he had once been saved by a Jedi during an ill-fated mission, that particular knight had been an anomaly. That Jedi had disregarded the Order's rigid doctrine to do what needed to be done. The rest, he had come to believe, were prisoners of their own dogma—passive, shortsighted, and inflexible.
So when a junior officer tipped him off about a tactical development report titled The Specter Strike Maneuver, he was intrigued, albeit skeptical. He was surprised to hear it was developed by a Jedi. He expected a rhetoric wrapped in flowery prose, a tactic bound more to theory than practicality.
What he found instead shocked him.
The report was concise, methodical, and razor-sharp in its analysis. It outlined a strategy designed to exploit the Separatists' overreliance on droid coordination and supply lines, leveraging small, agile task forces to cripple their logistical network with minimal resources. The foresight and practicality displayed in the document were beyond impressive—they were exceptional.
Then he reached the signature line.
"Submitted by Jedi Knight Tanya Valken."
He opened up the author's file in the Jedi database and noticed she was only seventeen years old. He had to reread it to be sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. A seventeen-year-old Jedi? A child Jedi Knight? His initial reaction was incredulity—until he reviewed the document again. This was not the work of a typical Jedi, let alone a child. It was the work of a mind capable of seeing through the fog of war, unclouded by idealism or naivety.
Leaning back in his chair, he tapped a finger against his desk, deep in thought. He had no love for the Jedi, but this Valken girl was something different. The clarity and pragmatism in her writing suggested that she wasn't shackled by the Order's doctrine. Young enough to escape their full indoctrination, yet sharp enough to grasp the realities of war.
A rarity among their kind.
The idea began to take shape in his mind. Tanya Valken represented an opportunity—a chance to bring a Jedi into the fold who could serve the military's needs without succumbing to the Order's constraints. If nurtured properly, she could become a key asset in the Republic's war effort.
Reaching for his commlink, he issued a curt command to his aide. "Find me information about Jedi Knight Tanya Valken and arrange a meeting with her."
As he ended the transmission, he couldn't help but smile. The Jedi might have proven a thorn in his side thus far, but this girl might just be the exception he needed. If she was as insightful in person as she was on paper, Tanya Valken could be an invaluable asset to the military. A Jedi who can use their powers unhindered by a rigid dogma.
I received a notice from Republic High Command summoning me for a formal meeting. At least the military has some perspective, I thought. Their quick interest in my tactics came as a mild surprise, though a welcome one. The Republic's war machine had undergone a remarkable transformation—going from virtually no standing army to commanding an entire clone force seemingly overnight.
They didn't have much choice. As suspicious as the sudden appearance of the Grand Army was, utilizing it was the only logical move. War cares little for convenience. It demands solutions, no matter how coincidental or peculiar their origins.
I arrived precisely on schedule. The military complex was a hive of activity, bustling with the efficient chaos characteristic of an ongoing war effort. The air held that familiar stench of metal, sweat, and duty. Despite being in a galaxy far from my past lives, it was clear that military structures followed the same fundamental principles no matter the world. Navigating this environment was second nature. After all, this wasn't my first time maneuvering through the intricate maze of a military-command complex.
Walking down a long corridor, I spotted a polished nameplate gleaming under the artificial lights: Wilhuff Tarkin. So, this was my destination. Clearly, he was a man of significance—few officers commanded private offices, let alone in a building this prestigious.
An aide greeted me as I entered. "He will see you shortly," they said with polite efficiency.
I gave a small nod and positioned myself near the entrance, steeling my thoughts. This was the time to prove my worth—to demonstrate that someone among these higher-ups could appreciate competence. Unlike the Jedi Council, I suspected Tarkin would at least understand the value of strategy built on necessity.
When he stepped out to greet me, I snapped a precise salute, masking any inward trepidation. "Thank you for taking the time to see me, sir."
Tarkin's expression was measured, unreadable save for the faintest flicker of interest in his eyes. "Tanya Valken," he began, voice crisp. "I've read your report. It's quite a rarity to see strategic insight like yours coming from a Jedi—especially one so young."
"The honor is mine, sir," I replied evenly. "Though I originally submitted the report to the Jedi Council. They failed to see its value."
His mouth tightened in a knowing smile. "The Council has never been particularly keen on fostering talent that deviates from their traditions. The Republic, however, needs strategic thinkers like you. Tell me—how do you personally assess the war?"
"If I may speak freely, sir," I began, "I believe the Separatists have exploited the Jedi's ineptitude in leading this war. They were never meant to command troops on this scale. Their adherence to traditional battle doctrines is fundamentally unsuited to a conflict of this nature. With the droid army's overwhelming numbers, targeting their logistics is not just tactical—it's essential."
"So, you believe Jedi leadership is hindering the Republic's war effort?"
"Yes, sir. Their rigid approach and refusal to adapt will only allow the Separatists to evolve past Jedi tactics. Without decisive intervention, it's only a matter of time before that gap widens irreversibly."
Tarkin nodded thoughtfully, the faint gleam of interest sharpening. "And how would you address this issue?"
"The solution isn't simple," I admitted, "but the key is to tactically sideline the Jedi without outright removing them. That would be... politically untenable." My voice remained steady despite my internal disdain for the Council's blind idealism. "Instead, we must give them minimal control over military assets, ensuring they believe they are fulfilling their role while the real strategic work continues under military command. With the Senate already granting wartime powers to the Chancellor, the shift could be justified as a necessary efficiency measure."
"You propose an intriguing solution," Tarkin said, his tone contemplative. "If the military were to officially transfer you from the Jedi Order to our command, would you have any reservations?"
"None whatsoever, sir."
"Excellent." His gaze met mine, cold and calculating. "Begin drafting this plan immediately. I'll handle your reassignment."
"Sir, I won't fail you," I said with conviction, my salute sharp and precise.
We exchanged salutes before I turned on my heel and exited the room.
As I walked down the bustling corridors of Republic High Command, my thoughts churned. In my previous life, entanglements with military bureaucracy had often been necessary evils, navigated with precision and care. But here, this was a calculated escape—a chance to sever myself from the Jedi's grip and operate on my terms.
The military offered the perfect shield: once I proved my value, they'd have no reason to send me back. The Jedi would discard me as an anomaly—an inconvenient outlier. Meanwhile, I would wield the strategic leverage to shape the course of this war efficiently and decisively.
And after the war? A peaceful life awaited, far from the chaos. Perhaps I'd even find time to delve into the practical workings of a galactic-wide economy. The prospect intrigued me. But first, I had to bring this war to a swift and final end.
A smile crossed my lips.
Tarkin knew that extracting a Jedi from the Order to serve the military was no simple task—particularly a youngling. Yet this one had demonstrated extraordinary potential, making the effort a worthwhile investment. Given Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's increasing influence over the war effort and his own growing skepticism toward the Jedi, securing the Chancellor's support would be paramount.
Tarkin wasted no time, sending a carefully worded request for an audience. To his surprise, Palpatine's response came within hours—far swifter than anticipated. It seemed the Chancellor's interest had been piqued as well.
When the transmission began, a holographic figure of Palpatine flickered to life before him, composed yet inquisitive. "Admiral Tarkin," the Chancellor greeted smoothly, "an intriguing matter indeed. How did you come upon this Jedi?"
"Chancellor, the Jedi in question submitted her report first to the Jedi Council, but after they rejected it, she redirected it to the military. It came to my attention through a recommendation to review its contents."
Palpatine's brow lifted ever so slightly. "A Jedi bypassing the Council to appeal directly to military command? Bold. One might even say... subversive." His voice took on a pensive tone. "Such actions will no doubt place her at odds with the Jedi."
"Precisely," Tarkin confirmed. "We must act swiftly. Her strategic mind and pragmatic approach make her far better suited to the military. She is wasted potential under the Jedi's rigid oversight."
"I concur," Palpatine mused, his expression hardening. "The Republic needs capable minds unburdened by antiquated dogma. See it done, Admiral. You have my support—I will apply the necessary pressure to ensure Jedi cooperation."
"Thank you, Chancellor."
With a slight nod, the transmission cut off, leaving Tarkin alone in the quiet hum of his office.
Tanya's plan has proven to be more effective than her initial expectations. If the Jedi refused to recognize her talents, the military would have no such reservations. And in these turbulent times, the instrument of violence is always looking for competent cogs.