Shaak Ti studied the holographic map thoughtfully.
"Do you think, Master Yoda, that Aayla will be able to come to terms with this?"
"Difficult it will be, difficult," Yoda replied softly. "Sad news hurts—Jedi are no exception. However, idle you did not remain, Master Ti."
The Togruta looked at Yoda questioningly.
"A young Jedi you have entrusted to watch over her?" The green Grand Master twitched an ear.
"You are right, Master. I hope Vikt can help her. I truly hope so."
"May the Force be with them," Yoda concluded.
***
When the Akagi entered Coruscant's orbit, it was time to discuss our next steps. We gathered at the Acclamator's command post, around the tactical table.
Since Secura showed little enthusiasm for taking command, I decided to take the reins myself. Well, no point dragging things out.I projected the relevant section of the map and began explaining the plan.
"So, our course will be as follows. First, we head to Corellia, where we'll pick up two passengers. Then we proceed to Bestine. Another Jedi will join us there."
"Sir, that will take about six hours. Two hours to Corellia, another four to Bestine—plus boarding time," Sumeragi reported.
Well, yes. We'll be flying along a well-trodden route. Everything is known here, and with the initial data, you can calculate the flight time even in your head.
"Fine. After that, we'll actually begin our mission. We need to find traces of the missing convoys, as well as those responsible for attacking them. First Lieutenant Li Noriega, you're in charge of developing a patrol plan. We have twenty-four brand-new ARC-170s and a bomber squadron as our strike force. Think about what you can do with that."
"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it," the girl replied, snapping a salute.
"Excellent." I turned to Lichtendal and gestured. "First Lieutenant Cerri, you have command."
"Acknowledged, sir."
After taking a few steps toward the bow of the bridge, he stopped near the control pits and began issuing orders:
"Attention! Begin preparations for the jump! Navigation, calculate a course to the Corellia system! Everyone to your stations!"
A few minutes later, the stars on the displays stretched and merged into a single, endless stream.
***
"General, we have reached Corellia," Lichtendal reported.
Standing on the bridge, I watched the scene unfolding on the main displays. Corellia. Technically, we had entered the system ten minutes earlier, but the planet was still quite distant. Local authorities had tightened flight regulations, with good reason to fear attacks from the Separatists. As a result, ships were now forced to exit hyperspace far from the edge of the gravitational well rather than at the usual point. Any vessel that attempted to violate this rule would be destroyed immediately. I suspect a few such incidents occurred before everyone realized the regulations were no joke.
Of course, the Corellians had pulled off a serious stunt by announcing their departure from the Republic—a process initiated by Senator Garm Bel Iblis—in protest against the creation of the GAR and the fleet, as well as the Republic's involvement in the war. But in practice, no one really cared. Politics is politics, and contracts are contracts. At the shipyards of Kiris—an asteroid belt on the edge of the system—new vessels continued to roll off the assembly lines: CR90 corvettes and DP20 frigates, including orders for the Republic itself. Corellia StarDrive valued its reputation, and its ships were solid.
Still, no one seriously intended to let Corellia go. It was more a demonstrative gesture than a real secession. And honestly, that was normal here—the eternal "confrontation" between Corellia and Coruscant. Both have a mania for "greatness." It seems there was once Alsakan as well. As far as I recall, people colonized them at roughly the same time, and both worlds were key members of the motley coalition that founded the Republic some twenty-five thousand years ago.
That's where it all began. Coruscant prides itself on being the capital of the Republic, while the Corellians boast about pioneering the first hyperspace trade routes and the uniqueness of their system—one that many believe was artificially created by the Celestials over a hundred thousand years ago. That theory seems plausible. The system contains five planets and a single asteroid belt, and all of them are inhabited—something that simply cannot be natural.
If memory serves, Corellia eventually had to return to the Republic after the CIS, dissatisfied with warship supplies, attacked the system. True, they got their asses kicked. The Corellian system fleet numbers over five thousand warships of various classes, including roughly two dozen so-called "Corellian Battlecruiser"—three-kilometer-long, slow-moving behemoths with heavy armor and hulls bristling with weapons of every conceivable caliber. The number of starfighters is impossible to calculate precisely, but it's no less than ten thousand.
Such a massive fleet exists because Corellia has always been a major trade hub—and because the adventurous mentality of most Corellians, the system turned into a paradise for smugglers, with the locals earning a reputation as the best in the business. All these ships were built to ensure the safety of trade routes. There's even a small Jedi organization—the Corellian Jedi—operating independently from the Jedi Order and maintaining order within the system.
Aayla Secura approached us.
"Knight Vikt, I contacted Master Tholme. Their shuttle is already approaching."
"Really? Then let's hurry to the hangar to meet them…"
As soon as a small shuttle of an unfamiliar make entered the Acclamator hangar, I sensed that our guests were anything but ordinary. Impressive, I would say.
And if the first of them—John Tholme, a man of about sixty with gray hair and scars lining his face—simply made a strong impression, then the second…
She literally radiated the Force. Hmm. No—that wasn't quite right. Force. Compared to her, I was like a toy truck standing next to a haul truck. Or, to use local terms, like the Millennium Falcon compared to the Executor.
However, she also had an unusual appearance. Tall—around two meters—with brownish-green skin, almost humanlike, if not for her thick hair cascading all the way to her feet in heavy brown curls, the complete absence of a nose, and her piercing yellow-green eyes… and, to be honest, magnificent breasts—around a C or even D cup.
"Master Tholme!" the Twi'lek greeted him warmly. "I'm glad to see you."
"Aayla. We need to talk." The Jedi took her by the arm, and they stepped aside, whispering quietly about something.
Sighing and exchanging glances with Ahsoka, I stepped forward.
"Welcome, Master T'ra Saa."
"Nice to meet you, Knight Vikt. And this must be your Padawan?"
"Yes. This is Ahsoka. Ahsoka Tano," I clarified.
"I assume," the Neti smiled faintly, "that Aayla is occupied at the moment… so you'll have to deal with me. What are our plans?"
"We're heading to Bestine next, where we're supposed to pick up An'yu Kuro—"
"I would advise you not to call her that."
"Why?" Ahsoka asked, surprised.
"She's… unusual. She follows the Jedi Code too zealously—or rather, she follows it as she understands it. That's why she renounced her name. Since then, she has been known only as the Dark Woman."
"Really? That's… amusing."
"Yes, it's rather… flamboyant, I won't deny. However, it doesn't change the fact that she is an extremely powerful Jedi and possesses Force abilities uncommon among most others. For example, she can bend light around herself to become invisible and even pass through solid matter. Additionally, she is capable of Force-based teleportation."
"Teleportation?" I was a bit floored by that explanation, and so was Ahsoka. "Is that even possible?"
"The Force has no limits," T'ra Saa replied vaguely. "Now, I believe I'd like to rest."
"Of course. Ahsoka, please escort Master T'ra Saa to her cabin."
"Yes, Master!"
I headed toward the lifts leading to the bridge. Along the way, some distinctly unpleasant thoughts crept into my mind.
Something's wrong. They wouldn't assemble a group like this for a simple assignment; looks like trouble's brewing, big time. Why else gather so many exceptional Force-users?
***
Damassa Longstar sat importantly on the bridge of her cruiser, lazily observing the scene unfolding in nearby space.
And there was plenty to admire: half a dozen transport ships drifted lifelessly, surrounded by starfighters and a pair of corvettes from her squadron. Using tractor beam projectors, her crews efficiently collected containers that pirate boarding parties had ripped free from the helpless vessels.
"Move it, you worthless slugs! Time is short—grab everything you can!" barked the Zygerrian woman.
"Captain, all this won't fit in our holds!" protested Antrath Ryoku, captain of one of the HCT-2001 freighter, the Banana.
"Then destroy whatever we can't take!"
"Damassa! What about the prisoners?" A hologram of Niva Moorhert, captain of the second raider—YV-929 armed freighter—flickered into view.
"Any worthwhile specimens? Pretty Twi'lek, women?"
"No, boss. A couple of Republic officers, some meat droids, and about a dozen civilian crew members."
"Then you know what to do. Toss them out the airlock!"
"As you say, boss…"
Once the raiders had finished their filthy work, Damassa issued her next command.
"Fighters, return to the hangars. Jarlok!"
"Yes, boss?"
"Open fire. I want nothing left here but wreckage."
"With pleasure!"
As the cruiser's guns tore the transports apart, Longstar leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, tossing one arm behind her head and scratching one of the bony ridges crowning her skull. She was enjoying the spectacle—and that was hardly surprising.
The Zygerrians were infamous for their long history of violence, warfare, and slave trading, all of which they considered the natural order of existence. Because of their love for these three things, they were feared and despised across the galaxy—but they couldn't have cared less.
Twenty years earlier, influential members of the species had formed a powerful slave-trading guild that spread across many Outer Rim worlds. Damassa's father, Sar Longstar, had been among its leaders. But… the Jedi Order crushed the guild, and the enraged Zygerrians were forced into hiding on their homeworld, slowly rebuilding their strength and nurturing a burning hatred for the Republic.
When the war broke out, the Zygerrians—led by Queen Miraj Scintel and consumed by their thirst for revenge—aligned themselves with the Confederacy of Independent Systems under Count Dooku, hoping to expand and solidify their newly revived slave empire.
The Separatists were only too happy to accept the offer, supplying ships, weapons, fighters—and, most importantly, intelligence.
Now Damassa's squadron prowled Republic communication routes, plundering—and annihilating—military convoys that always carried something of value.
Except, perhaps, slaves.
"Boss, it's time to get out of here!"
"Yes. You're right. Let that smartass Starwind power down his crap. Set a course for base!"