CoS Chapter 33

30 BBY

The capital’s space port was abuzz with activity when Dooku landed, so much so that when his landing ramp descended it wasn’t even noticed by the scurrying workers. What looked like canisters of tibanna gas were being wheeled about, being loaded into the parked Hammerheads, while mechanics clambered over their hulls searching for damage. In addition to the Hammerheads, a pair of rounded Coronas were also being worked on. The two ships seemed to take up the bulk of the spaceport staff’s attention.

Amidst all the chaos only Dooku’s daughter Tan’ya and a handful of her own personal guards were there to greet him.

“Father.” She bowed low.

“Daughter.” He greeted, raising his hand to indicate she should rise. He surveyed the organized chaos about him, ignoring the eager gleam in his daughter’s eye as she gazed upon the undignified means he had been forced to fly in. Most of the paint had been scraped off the battered old Correlian freighter at one point, leaving the ship looking like someone had started to sand blast it clean but had given up part way through. There were distinct plasma scores on the ship’s underside as well, indicating someone had tried to shoot it with a hand blaster as it was taking off.

Behind her, the bodyguards bristled. An affront to their lord’s honor was an insult to their own, after all.

“Father, do you intend to use that again?”

Dooku shook his head once, firmly.

“May I have it?” Tan’ya asked, grinning viciously. “For the upcoming operation.”

Perplexed, Dooku nodded once.

Immediately, Tan’ya raised her comms device to her lips, and started issuing orders in Serennoan. It wasn’t long until a handful of men came over in greasy jumpsuits and ascended the loading ramp. Dooku watched the vehicle flying away, glad to be rid of it, as his daughter turned back towards him.

“We were able to retrieve the enemy’s flight computers intact.” Tan’ya explained. “In addition, we’ve sent the captured crews off for interrogation. We’ve identified who’s attacking us and their forward operating base.”

“You’re already planning a counter-attack.” Dooku observed, dryly. If he had taken such actions onto himself as a padawan, Yoda would have been in his ear for days. If he had done such a thing as heir to Count Gora, he probably would have been shot.

“Of course!” Tan’ya smiled brightly, and Dooku felt his lips twitching slightly as well. “Our pirates were Black Sun. The fleets that attacked us and our allies were berthed at a space station called Deep Space Demolition and Removal; it’s currently parked in orbit over Phindar.”

There were more than fifty thousand worlds in the Republic, Dooku didn’t immediately know where planet Phindar was. He took a moment to quickly search that up on his holocom, as Tan’ya continued to talk.

“Launching an invasion of another system would of course be fraught with political risks, so I didn’t give the order yet, but I thought it best to have the option available as soon as possible.” Tan’ya looked up at Dooku, seeking his approval.

“Well done, daughter.” He told her, while quickly reading over planet Phindar.  

Ah, yes, now he remembered. Qui-Gon and Obi-wan Kenobi had a mission there at some point. Essentially, it was a pirate state unfortunately located right in the middle of the Salin Corridor. Until recently, it had been ruled by some criminal syndicate or other, until his former padawan had overthrown them. 

Dooku frowned.

The new government was supposedly republican, and represented the small Demetras sector in the Galactic Senate, but was struggling with deep corruption and was clearly still unable to shake off the influence of the pirates that once dominated it openly. Once upon a time it was a part of Mandalorian Space, but since the decline of that power it had really become nothing but a flyover for anyone traveling the Salin Corridor. Ship captains avoided Phindar, if they had any other choice.

Looking at it, there was an opportunity here, though not one without risks. Securing the Salin Corridor would be invaluable to Dooku’s alliance, whose members were mostly located on the Perlemian and the Hydian. The well charted route that connected the two Great Hyperspace Lanes could allow a much greater bulk of trade to flow between them, without any fear of interference from the Republic.

However, Phindar was merely one world on the Salin Corridor, and a relatively unimportant one at that. If Dooku were to invade it suddenly, it could provoke the greater power of Botajef, who controlled the west entrance to the Corridor. If Dooku wanted to control that hyperlane, an alliance with Botajef would be essential…

“Continue to make preparations for the counter attack.” Dooku informed his daughter. “And continue to gather information on the target. But do not launch unless I give permission.”

“Yes, Father!” Tan’ya hurried away happily.

Butajef was once part of Mandalorian space, and was still trading with Mandalore, though the scales of power had tipped in that relationship over the last thousand years. Though Botajef’s massive shipyards might not be nearly as productive as they once were, they still brought far more wealth to the planet than Mandalore’s blasted, irradiated surface ever could.

Still, perhaps Duchess Satine would be able to help…

Tan’ya surveyed her father’s battered freighter with a deep sense of satisfaction. The grimy, scored surface looked exactly like the kind of vessel a smuggler would operate. In fact, it almost definitely was a smuggler’s vessel in its recent history, given that the mechanics had discovered two transponders aboard, both with a convenient off switch, and both broadcasting different registrations.

Tan’ya didn’t have permission to launch her attack on Deep Space Demolition and Removal yet, but she wanted to be as ready as possible for when her father secured the political coverage they needed. This plausible smuggling vessel would be perfect for scouting out the enemy’s precise location, without drawing the ire of Butajef or the authorities on Phindar.

Obviously, none of her Serrenoans would be suitable for this work, but a pair of sharp eyed Coruscanti with undercity accents wouldn’t look out of place at all.

Tan’ya dispatched the ship with her pair of handpicked Guards as soon as her mechanics confirmed it was spaceworthy and ready to fly.

The next part of her plan involved collaborating with Asajj. Tan’ya’s father had appointed his former apprentice to be the head of the New Temple’s Quick Reaction Team, meaning Asajj had direct control over the New Temple’s shiny new fleet of long range patrol fighters and armored freighters. With the New Temple and Raxus on the Perlemian, and Serenno and Mandalore on the Hydian, they were in a pretty good position to pincer the Black Sun fleet between them.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Intuitively, hitting the Black Sun with the largest possible armada would be most likely to succeed, but in reality the issue was more complicated. Coordinating the movement of two coalition fleets drawn together from navies unused to working together was difficult at the best of times, let alone trying to do so across such vast differences. 

All in all, Tan’ya didn’t quite have enough information to draw up a detailed plan yet. Questions like, how many of her father’s allies she could rely on, and who would be in command of the overall operation had yet to be answered, let alone the relative strength and disposition of the enemy, but for now Tan’ya and Asajj had drawn up a preliminary plan and written down their recommendations.

At first Asajj had seemed a touch overwhelmed, but had quickly seemed to gather her bearings, and listened closely to Tan’ya’s advice. Though obviously a beginner in the field military affairs, Asajj had shown the most important quality of any burgeoning professional, and that was learning as much as she could from those with more experience than her.

Tan’ya finished her day satisfied, looking forwards to what was to come. As she lay in bed, she couldn’t help smiling to herself. At last, she was being given a real chance to do what she was good at. No more being treated like a child or spoken down to. In these matters she had authority, and would soon earn respect.

Finally, after years of frustration, she was taking back control. Ever since the battle over Serenno's orbit, her mind felt sharper, more focused, the annoying buzz of childish emotions of a spoiled princess having grown just a bit fainter, having been drowned out by the aftermath of her first real battle’s adrenaline high.

Tan’ya smirked, the irony of celebrating putting herself in danger having not escaped her. She didn't miss many things about her second life, but the military rigor that gave her complete control over her child self’s body and instincts was one of them. It was almost funny when she thought about it. Throughout her whole life as Tanya von Degurechaff, she was trying to escape from war to enjoy wealth and comfort. Now, with both in abundance, she was crawling back to it, to re-earn the respect she deserves and put an end to the infuriating internal tantrums.

Across from her, the egg started to rattle in its incubator. 

Oh, Tan’ya must have unsettled it with her thoughts. Quickly she tried to reassert peace and put it back to sleep, but in open defiance of her mental suggestion, a crack spread down the surface of the egg. Tan’ya gaped as after months of incubation, the tirra’taka finally began to hatch.

Really? Tan’ya felt a stab of annoyance. Right now, when everything was going on and she was just about to go to bed, the egg finally started to hatch now? With a sigh, Tan’ya hopped out of bed, shoved her toes into a pair of slippers, and quickly brought up the sith’s notes on Tirra’taka ecology.

In the wild, an adult would never help the hatchling leave its egg. If a hatchling wasn’t able to pierce its own shell, then it was too weak to be worth raising, and the sith saw no reason to do anything different. After it was free of the shell, the exhausted hatchling would be fed by its mother, and immediately go to sleep. The Sith had found a simple egg soup that was quite easily digestible for the new births, so Tan’ya got out her communicator and sent the recipe to the kitchen staff along with instructions to bring her a bowl of it.

Once the egg hatched, Tan’ya finally got to see the little menace herself after having to look after it for so long. As a youngling, it looked less like the clawed, spined and black beast  described in the text, but more like a hybrid between a scaly river eel and a piglet. Its face had a protruding snout with two large nostrils that twitched with each breath. The tip of the snout had a small tooth-like point.The only part of it that resembled a traditional dragon at all were the wings that were much larger than the rest of its body, which scattered shards of egg shells across the floor as the hatchling stretched and shook them. It reminded Tan’ya of a house cat as it stretched and yawned, both in size and mannerism.

Once it was cleaned, she fed it the soup, being sure to sip from it first. The Tirra’taka in the wild would be fed from their mother's mouths, so seeing Tan’ya eat first is how it would know she was offering it food. Finally, when it was done eating and happy to go to bed, it would sleep under its mother’s wing. If neglected at this stage, it would die, so even though the old sith despised the weakness of the creature, he still would allow it to sleep with its parent during the first week of its existence. If its mother was unavailable, then another force sensitive would have to serve as substitute.

Tan’ya went to bed with the little reptile curled up next to her, wondering what gender it was, but finding nothing in the sith’s instructions on how to determine that for herself.

With a final bemused sigh at the little creature pulling her arm over it, Tan’ya finally went to bed for that night.

In the morning, Tan’ya made to stand up and go about her business, but paused, worried about the creature's reaction to being abandoned. Reaching out with her mind, she found her younger sister just beginning to wake up, and tried calling to her through the Force.

Tan’ya was pleased when her sister almost immediately rushed over. The two force sensitives seemed to recognise each other immediately when Madalee came through the door. 

With an excitedly shrill cry of, “Eggy!” Madalee rushed over, gaping at the dragon with open mouthed wonderment. “It hatched!” She barely even glanced at Tan’ya, her eyes shining. “You’re so so cute! You hatched!”

Tan’ya didn’t know if she thought the dragon was as cute as her sister claimed, she personally thought it had an ugly little face, but it definitely seemed to recognise Madalee. Rather than being frightened by Madalee’s arrival, it licked her outstretched hand happily, and started to rub itself around her ankles.

Maybe a kind of scent marking?

Either way, with the two of them watching over each other, Tan’ya was free to pursue military matters unhindered. 

With Colonel Gon Seith injured, Tan’ya had to pick up the slack to make sure everything was running smoothly. Thanks to the near miraculous technology of bacta, he was quickly able to return to service after only a few days of recovery.

“Glad to see you’re doing well, Colonel.” Tan’ya said to him. “How’s the hand?” 

“Still a bit stiff.” The man grimaced, showing her the new metal fingers and parts of the palm that replaced his lower hand. “Damned bad luck. If it had been hit cleanly, I’d replace the whole thing. Now it's not as strong as durasteel, nor as flexible as flesh.” 

“You can of course take more time off if you need it-”

But Colonel Seith grimaced and shook his head. “I’d rather be here, ma’am.”

The man was nothing if not a professional, despite his gruff exterior. Tan’ya couldn’t help but feel her admiration for him grow. “Very well. What’s first today?”

“The Mandalorian, ma’am. That armorer you requested is here.”

Ah, that. “I hadn’t expected him to arrive so soon.”

Though Tan’ya would have loved the chance to manufacture armor for her House Guards locally, using local talent and techniques, in this case expedience trumped her desire to develop Serenno’s economy. If the pirate attack had convinced her of anything, it was that her soldiers needed blaster resistant armor now.

If the Mandalorian forgemaster could craft just a dozen sets of armor before the operation on Phindar began, then it would be worth even an exorbitant price. She had spoken briefly with him over the holocom, he was a part of some strange cult that lived on Mandalore’s moon, and refused to ever take off his helmet. Though he and his people were desperate for credits, he refused to forge or sell beskar to Tan’ya. It all seemed like religious nonsense to Tan’ya, but if he was able to produce suits of sacanium armor, she was willing to overlook his cultish nonsense.  

“Well, tell him to get started right away.” Tan’ya said, but paused when Gon didn’t immediately move to comply.

“He’ll have to take your measurements, Your Highness.”

Tan’ya gave him an annoyed look. “I’m still too young, Gon. I’ll outgrow the armor in a year, and having them handmade has been far too expensive.”

Gon gave her a distinctly unimpressed look. “Permission to speak freely?”

Tan’ya raised an eyebrow. Curious, she said, “Go ahead.”

“Your Highness, that’s complete nonsense. The House Guard have carried out two boarding actions so far, and you’ve been at the front of both. I can’t stop you from going into battle, but if you refuse to wear protection I will resign. I’m sure Mr Damask can afford it.”

Tan’ya stared at the man for a few moments, surprised by the apparent strength of his feelings, but also unwilling to argue against him. Replacing her most senior ranking officer would be a serious concern at the best of times, let alone at this particular moment, with a major operation looming on the horizon.

“Very well.” She said finally. It was a waste when she’d be growing out of it in a few years, but if that was the price of keeping him around then so be it.

The measuring didn’t take long. The armorer didn’t say a word to her, using a rod marked with small indentations to get the length of her wrists, upper arms, and various other body parts. He didn’t seem to take notes, but Tan’ya presumed he was recording the information in his helmet.

As the Mandalorain was leaving, Captain Hoves stepped into Tan’ya’s office. Compared to his usual expression, carefully neutral with a hint of a smile, he looked at his commander with something like disbelief.

“Your Highness.” He greeted her after a moment, saluting.

“Is something wrong, Captain?” Tan’ya asked him.

“...No, not wrong your highness.” He glanced at Gon, then back to Tan’ya. “The Palace Staff are swapping rumors with the Guard. They’re saying that… you gave birth to the Tirra’taka’s child?”

Tan’ya stared at the man, befuddled. What kind of rumors were those? Of course she didn’t lay a bloody egg! “I didn’t give birth to it, Hoves. It is a Tirra’taka’s egg that my father decided we should raise.”

Hoves stared at her, like he could scarcely understand her perfectly rational explanation.

“...I know how it sounds.” Tan’ya said. For the last thousand years of Serenno’s history, the Beast That Held the World Together was the singular Tirra’taka of this world. “I believe it is the child of the Tirra’taka of legend.”

Hoves stared at her like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, and she couldn’t help feeling embarrassed. To him she must have sounded like she was losing her mind. Back in Japan, Tan’ya would have treated someone similarly if they claimed to have met the real Bamboo Cutter and the Moonchild.

Trying to move the conversation along, Tan’ya said, “If it’s becoming a disciplinary issue, then of course you should correct the rumors at your own discretion.”

“...Yes, Your Highness.” Hoves finally replied, giving a slightly stiff salute. He almost seemed dazed as he left the office.

Poor fellow. Tan’ya wondered what she would have to do to regain his confidence after that embarrassing talk. She turned to see Gon watching the man leave, a worried frown on his face. 

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“…No, I suppose not ma’am.” Gon replied. 

“Well, let’s get to the rest of the day’s business, then. We’ve got a big event coming, and we must be ready for it.”

Asajj’s favorite place in the entire New Temple was its top floor. With its commanding view of the planet around it, and a garden with fields of soft grass for the Younglings to play on, it was a popular place among all the temple’s residents. Asajj wasn’t the only Jedi who enjoyed heading up there for lunch on a sunny day, though today it was mostly empty. An arctic wind had rolled over, which pushed the already chilly Indinor late autumn into bitterly cold winter conditions.

The garden’s hardy mountain grasses were left with a layer of frost coating them, while the flowers in the garden withered for the season. In the distance, the sun was setting over the farmers down below as they began to filter home for the night. They’d all brought their harvests in by now, leaving only a few small shapes working in the field to repair a fence or track down a missing beast.

Asajj had the garden all to herself, and was bundled up for the occasion in a thick winter parka with a fur lined hood, and cool winter gloves. From where she was sitting on a heated bench, sipping on her pleasantly warm caf stim and sipping on a nice soup of grunter bone broth with bread for dipping, she could feel the headache that had been developing begin to subside.

War was a lot of hard work. Everything had to be considered, everything had to be thought through. Of course, as part of her studies as a Jedi she’d been taught about military tactics and combat, but running a war was an extremely different beast. 

Amateurs talked about tactics and strategy, while professionals discussed logistics. Where was the food, fuel, ammunition and replacement parts for their vessels and weapons coming from? How quickly would it arrive? Was it standardized? Could it be standardized? Were their supply chains reliable? How many tons of food would they need to bring in each day for their soldiers to remain healthy?

These were questions that Asajj had always known were important, but working with Tan’ya made it clear just how much of her time was going to be spent on those issues alone. It was actually possible for an army to sustain itself in the field for a while, if they just lived off the land and were given free reign over procuring their own supplies from local populations, but that was simply untrue for a fleet. Each fleet was crafted to mechanical specifications by a particular manufacturer, and jury rigging replacement parts would only take you so far. 

Each ship couldn’t simply be added to the fleet without consideration, they had to be maintained very carefully or they were worse than dead weight. A ship without the right parts could be unstable, a threat to its crew, or even to the rest of the fleet in the worst case. Simply put, if they couldn’t secure the parts needed to maintain each new addition to their coalition, then they would be better off without them.

There were four fleets that might theoretically be participating in the operation, and they somehow had to coordinate supplies for all of them, while also managing four different chains of command. The same rank in one navy could be completely different in another. Someone who was ranked Commander in one navy would be the equivalent of a Captain in another, while the Commander was merely in charge of the engines or the blaster battery. Even that wasn’t considering the absolute nightmare of politics within and between each realm.

Asajj was beginning to think Tan’ya’s desire to limit their force to just Serenno and the New Temple sounded sensible. Keeping things simple was its own virtue. However, if the Black Sun fleet proved to be larger than expected, of course Asajj’s own fleet would need to bring in more allies to match it.

To Asajj, this had all seemed overwhelming at first. Luckily for her, she was working with Tan’ya of House Serenno, who seemed to take to it like a fish to water. Or maybe not quite like that, given who her teacher had been. 

Asajj shook her head to herself, blowing on her soup, and taking a sip. 

What in the Galaxy had Sifo been teaching that little girl? Tan’ya took to these heady military matters with a skill and confidence that Asajj simply couldn’t match. She’d have to be doing this for a lot longer before she felt half as comfortable with her new responsibilities as Tan’ya seemed to be.

With a warmth in her belly, and the sun just dipping below the horizon, Asajj was starting to feel better about the task ahead of her when her holocom rang.

When she saw the number calling she paused, hesitating to answer for a moment. Hego Damask, the New Temple’s benefactor. The Outer Rim Alliance’s benefactor, too. It wasn’t as though Asajj could simply refuse the call, though she had to admit to some apprehension talking to him. There was something off about the charitable banker, even beyond his unreadable steel trap of a mind.

She quickly answered, not wanting to leave him waiting.

“Jedi Knight Ventress.” Damask greeted her with a respectful tilt of his head, though it wasn’t low enough to be deferential. “Good to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you Mr Damask.” Asajj returned, politely, smiling as she did, careful to crinkle her eyes so it felt more genuine. When it came to diplomacy, even if the other party knew you weren’t being sincere, you still needed to put in the effort. People didn’t respect openness amongst the ranks of Galactic Politics, though they may respect gamesmanship. “How are you doing? Is your condition improving?”

Damask’s heavily scarred lips barely moved, but his eyes crinkled like he was smiling back at hers. “Yes, though it is a slow process. The procedure, while permanent in results, is time consuming in application, and the lack of… trustworthy subordinates I could delegate the oversight of my more sensitive investments to means I cannot spend as much time applying it as I’d want.”

“That’s good.” Asajj said. The banker did indeed seem to have an easier time speaking compared to when he was visiting her knighting.  “And if there’s anything the New Temple can help with, then of course we’re happy to lessen whatever burdens you.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. ” Damask said, his tone changing from polite corporate speech to something more measured and cautious. “I’m actually calling about another matter though, something that I’m quite concerned about.”

“What is it?”

Damask took a long puff from his respirator. “...I’ve read the reports Tan’ya has sent to me, regarding your planned military operation, against the Black Sun.”

“You're worried about our plan?”

Damask shook his head. “I’m no expert in military affairs, I leave that to the Jedi’s wise hands.” He took another long breath. “However, there is a particular danger to Tan’ya. You see, I’ve read the case files concerning Master Sifo Dyas assassination, and I couldn’t help but notice there was Black Sun involvement there as well.”

Asajj blinked, mind racing back to the events of last year. Sifo Dyas case files had been shared with her by Quinlan Vos, but at the time the Jedi hadn’t proceeded very far in their investigation at all. “I’m sure we can handle some pirates.”

“It may not just be pirates, though. Sifo was a friend and associate of mine, and when he passed I was careful to pay close attention to the case. The Sith who killed Master Dyas is suspected of leading the syndicate, and will no doubt take part in the fight if you bring it to him.” 

“A Sith…” Asajj still couldn't believe they’ve returned, despite what the banker said. “Are you certain your Jedi contacts can be trusted, Mister Damask? If the Coruscant Temple had confirmed the existence of the Sith, surely they would have told us.” 

Would Master Narec really have not told her about the return of the Sith? If that was the case, it would explain the great pulse of the Dark Side that ran through the Force those months ago. For a moment it felt like the whole Galaxy would be consumed by black fire before it passed. Her Master had felt it too…

He took a long breath, coughing softly before he continued, “I’m sure they would have told your Master about it. Perhaps you should mention it to him.”

That was the last thing Asajj thought she wanted to do right now. How had Ky felt the Dark Side? A Coruscant Jedi shouldn’t ever have touched it. Why was he hiding on Rattatak? Was he involved with the Sith somehow?

But then… What was she doing on Rattatak? Had Narec known she was there? Did he come to the planet for her?

That time was so long ago, and she was so young that she struggled to remember anything from before Narec came to her homeworld. Which was odd, because she wasn’t a toddler at the time. She should have been able to remember what happened when she was a child, but she couldn’t.

“I fear these events must be connected.” Damask said.

“What?”

“The Black Sun raids on the New Temple's allies, and the assassination of Master Sifo.” 

Oh, yeah. That’s what they had been talking about.

Hego took a long drag. “The Sith’s involvement with the Black Sun would place Tan’ya in grave danger, were she to face them. Of course, this operation is necessary, but please, keep her from the battle itself. She’s courageous, but here it could be her undoing.”

“Ah, yes, I will. We will.” Asajj confirmed. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t face the Sith.” Definitely not alone.

“Very good.” Damask said, nodding. “Thank you very much for listening.”

After some more pleasantries, they hung up. Asajj stood there in the garden, sickening ropes of anxiety coiling inside her. 

Had Narec known about the Sith? Was he involved? 

Her presence on Rattatak, him knowing the Dark Side, her missing memories, and even Vos had been convinced someone who knew Sifo had helped assassinate him, someone with access to Sifo’s ship.

No, it couldn’t be.

Could it?

Meal forgotten, Asajj headed for her room, drawing eyes from some of the knights in the halls as she passed by. She barely noticed them, not even glancing their way as she turned her shoulders to pass by them, not quite running but not noticing anything else, either. In her room she stepped straight over the straw mat on the floor, pulling the door shut behind her with the force, and falling to her knees before her bed. She began pulling out boxes and unpacked different mementos and keepsakes. From one box she pulled out her signed copies of a Complete History of the Republic, Volumes 1, 2 and 3, before taking out the holocom that was hidden under them. She stared at it reluctantly for a few seconds, hesitating, before plugging it into the wall to start charging it.

She stopped for a minute, running her fingers over the hilt of her lightsaber and breathing out through the Force. On her bed stand was an image of her and Master Ky Narec, wearing matching Robes of the New Temple. Beneath it was a handwritten note from her Master.

To my former student and present friend, 

I know that in the future you will achieve great things. Use this moment to remember how far you’ve come. Please take comfort in that you’ve already made me prouder than I ever thought I could be.

-Your former teacher, present friend, and future admirer.

Asajj stared at the handwritten note, and swallowed. She looked down, seeing that her holocom was at least partially charged, where she unplugged it, and stuffed it in her pocket.

Outside the Temple, Asajj took the steps up to the landing pad two at a time, before climbing into the front seat of her personal starship. Disconnecting from the New Temple’s holonet connection, she activated her ship's relay, and called the only number saved on the holocom.