If he were not a Jedi, he would surely have given vent to his fury.
Instead, he was forced to remain calm. To smile at every Jedi he encountered. To radiate tranquility and confidence.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
So says the Code.
But a bloody veil clouded his vision, demanding release, devouring him from within.
She had left him. She hadn't waited!
For many months, he, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka had been in the Outer Rim, crushing Separatist armies wherever they could reach. Without mercy, without hesitation. He had warmed himself with only the hope that upon returning to Coruscant—after outrageously long briefings—he would finally see Padmé. He would tell her how he loved her. He would embrace her, hold her close, showing her how much he had missed her. He would apologize for all the scenes of jealousy she had been forced to endure. He would repent...
But it was as if fate itself were pushing him in the opposite direction.
First, the Council's lecture following the report from his former master, who had wasted no time in reporting Ahsoka's transgression. Why had he done it? Why hadn't he listened to his, Anakin's, advice to keep what happened between the three of them? Didn't he see that Ahsoka, like Anakin himself at her age, strived for victory? That she did not accept retreat and saw things through to the end? Why had Obi-Wan, who had forgiven him for such things for so many years, exposed his Padawan this time?
Did he want to show his former apprentice that one should be more principled when raising the younger generation? Then why didn't he say so in private? Why bring it before the Council? Even without Ahsoka's mistake, the Felucia campaign had been lost from the start! The forces they possessed were categorically insufficient to defeat the droids.
The more Anakin—moving like a dark shadow through the corridors of the Galactic Senate—reflected on this, the more often he caught himself thinking that Obi-Wan was simply jealous. Jealous of how easily Anakin had established a truly friendly relationship with his apprentice. Something Kenobi himself had been unable to do in his time.
Yes, they considered each other little more than brothers after everything they had gone through. But Anakin did not feel a kinship of souls with him like the one he shared with Ahsoka. Obi-Wan, despite everything, remained his master, and the young Jedi always remembered that.
Ahsoka's expulsion from the Order hit him harder than he had anticipated. The Council's bluntness literally knocked him off balance. Usually talkative and resourceful, he had simply been at a loss, unable to find words to defend Tano. And now he blamed himself for failing to deliver a speech as fiery as Dougan's.
At the mention of the overreaching Jedi, Skywalker caught himself clenching the fingers of his right hand until the servomotors groaned. Though it was made of metal below the elbow, he still felt a sharp electrical shock to the nerve from the strain.
Dougan.
Anakin couldn't understand why, but this Jedi irritated him. His mere presence at the Council was enough to make the Tatooinian lose his temper.
The arrogant man always treated him as if Anakin were guilty of something. He could literally feel the distrust and dissatisfaction radiating from the armored man every time they were in the same company.
And after what he had learned this morning...
Following Ahsoka's expulsion, the Council had detained him until late at night, peppering him with questions about the state of his legion and his readiness to depart for a new front. Anakin listened with only half an ear.
His whole world had turned upside down when he saw Dougan among the members of the High Council. How?! For what merits had he become a Master? And at such a young age! Why him? Why hadn't the Council invited Anakin?!
Before his departure, Obi-Wan had tried to explain that there was no reason for dissatisfaction. The Council valued Dougan's contribution to the common cause—the units under his command had achieved the greatest results at the cost of high casualties. But compared to those in other sectoral armies, it turned out the newly-minted Grand Moff looked after the preservation of his troops better than anyone.
Yes, like Anakin, he almost always achieved victory. Но если клоны Скайуокера несли едва ли не тридцатипроцентные потери, то показатели Доугана едва ли переваливали за двадцать. And the fact that the people of Christophsis adored him, supplying volunteers to his army and—an unheard-of thing—warships! Hutt take it, he had fought there too! His fighters had also suffered losses protecting the locals from the Separatists! So why was Dougan celebrated as a hero, and not him, the "Knight Without Fear"?
Dougan... Over a year of war, Anakin felt that the surname of the Jedi he loathed was becoming a synonym for a headache—for everything he felt and carefully concealed.
And even when he finally managed to break away from the Temple this morning, flying on the wings of love to his secret wife, Dougan struck him on a front where Anakin had least expected him.
Though several hours had passed since it happened, Anakin remembered every word she had said during their brief meeting.
His beloved had pulled away from him as soon as the young Jedi tried to take her in his arms.
"Anakin," she always called him by his full name when she felt his feelings were manifested out of place. "I am in a hurry. A ship is waiting for me."
"What? But I just arrived! I have a whole week of leave while Obi-Wan is away from Coruscant! We simply must spend this time together!"
"Anakin, I can't," she slipped from his embrace again. "My mission is very important, and it is impossible to postpone it!"
"Then let me fly with you!" Skywalker muttered, slightly taken aback by her detachment. "Someone has to pilot your ship..."
"I am not flying on my yacht or a Senate starship," Padmé said, closing the last suitcase and looking at him with a barely warm gaze. She acted this way when she thought he had done something wrong.
"But..."
"General Dougan will take me to my destination on his ship," she explained.
Anakin felt his chest tighten from a swelling sense of dissatisfaction. How? Why? Had they met behind his back?
"You didn't tell me you'd seen him since that incident on Rodia," he said slowly, carefully restraining his seething rage.
"I don't have to report my every step to you!" she exclaimed defiantly. "Anakin! You need to grow up! Each of us has a duty to the Republic, and we cannot shirk it for the sake of our feelings."
Those were the last words she spoke before getting into a speeder that carried her off into the unknown.
Into the unknown to Dougan!
He sat for several hours in the empty apartments, reflecting. But he could not bring his emotions under control.
And so, the Jedi headed here.
To this abode of bureaucracy and inefficiency.
A political swamp, an arena of posturing and lies, where there was only one person worthy of his attention.
Sheev Palpatine.
The Chancellor of the Republic and his friend.
The only one who never judged. And who could always listen—at any time of day or night. To give advice. Even Obi-Wan and Yoda did not possess even a grain of the wisdom that lay in the mind of the former senator from Naboo.
And now, noticing how a pair of Royal Guards—the Chancellor's personal security, who had replaced the utterly corrupt and incompetent Senate Guard unit that had repeatedly tarnished its name in dirty scandals—parted at his mere appearance, Anakin noted that even these two, simple soldiers, showed him proper respect and honor. The Jedi, whom he surpassed in midichlorian count, ought to learn from them. For it was Anakin who was the strongest Jedi, not only in his generation, but perhaps of all time.
Unfortunately, after the theft of all the Council's information sources, no one could verify whether this was so. But Anakin knew even without historical chronicles that he had no equal.
"Ah, Anakin!" As soon as he crossed the threshold of the office, the Chancellor rose from his desk to meet him. Mas Amedda, his loyal assistant who was present, bowed restrainedly to the young Jedi. "How glad I am to see you!"
"Supreme Chancellor," the Jedi returned the greeting. "The pleasure is mutual."
"We will speak of our business later, Mas," Palpatine immediately sent his deputy away. "How are you, my boy?"
"Not well, Chancellor," he never hid the true state of his soul from Palpatine. The only secret withheld from his friend was his secret wedding to Padmé on Naboo. And even then, Skywalker was constantly tempted to tell him about it.
"Has something happened?" A look of concern appeared on the Chancellor's face. As always, he was sincerely worried about the affairs of his protégé. For, without exaggeration, it was the Chancellor who had always been close to him.
"The Council..." Anakin collapsed into a chair across from Palpatine's desk. "They expelled my Padawan from the Order."
"Is that so?" The Nabooan was taken aback. "That is an extremely serious step on the part of the Jedi. Did she commit some transgression?"
"The Council assigned her to guard the Temple Archive," at first Skywalker hesitated to recount such internal matters of the Order, but then he cast aside all doubts. Who if not the Chancellor could support him in a difficult moment? Whose advice would he unhesitatingly accept as a guide to action? Only his. But if so, why not tell the whole story? Anakin could find no arguments against being candid. "She left her post and failed to raise the alarm in time. As a result, saboteurs destroyed part of the Archive and seized the Order's relics. Yoda and the other Masters sent Jedi after them toward nightfall, but no one has much confidence that they can be caught. The Council fears that in the hands of the Mandalorians, Jedi knowledge could lead to great trouble."
"Mandalorians?" Palpatine's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I thought they would never again go against the will of the Jedi."
"They were radicals from the Death Watch group," Anakin explained. "Obi-Wan has gone to Mandalore to finally clarify rumors of its alleged joining with the Separatists. Perhaps with Duchess Kryze's help, it will be possible to pick up the trail of the attackers."
"In that case, I shall pray for the success of his endeavor," Palpatine said benignly. "Yes, today is rich in unpleasant news..."
"Has something happened to you as well?"
"As on any other day," the Chancellor said tiredly. "Last night, the daughters of the Chairman of Pantora, Baron Papanoida, were kidnapped. A search is underway, but so far there is no news."
"Why would anyone do such a thing?" Anakin frowned. Of course, he understood that such crimes were committed to exert influence over the parents of those kidnapped. Но какой прок от заштатной планеты, которой являлась Пантора?
"I fear I have no answers, my boy," Palpatine spread his hands. "Just as there is no clarity in the case of the destruction of the Spaarti Creations. You know what that is, don't you?"
"I've heard a bit," Anakin admitted. "A unique factory that can be retooled overnight to produce new products."
"In general terms—yes," Palpatine confirmed his guess. Smiling, he added: "I am filled with pride at what a wise Jedi you are becoming."
"All thanks to your guidance, Chancellor," Skywalker returned the compliment. And he did so from the heart. Indeed, many of his achievements were possible only because he listened to the Chancellor's opinion rather than the Council's. This somewhat bothered Obi-Wan, but he never voiced complaints regarding the friendship between his apprentice and the Chancellor.
"You flatter me, Anakin," Palpatine waved it off. "You yourself possess a wisdom that surpasses any found among the other Jedi. Very little time will pass, and, as I foresee, you will become the strongest human to ever live in our galaxy. One day, even your master, Obi-Wan, will recognize this. And the entire Order."
"I am not sure of that," Skywalker shook his head. "If you see a wise Jedi in me, why is the Council so blind? Why is Dougan in the High Council of the Order, and not I? Obi-Wan mentioned that the Masters made that decision at your insistence."
"He said that?" Palpatine blinked in surprise, as he always did when hit with completely new information. "He must have confused something. Yes, I spoke with Yoda about the need to reform our Grand Army by creating systemic armies, which should be led by the most outstanding members of the Order and the Council. I confess, I still believed Yoda understood my words correctly—for I was speaking almost undisguisedly of you."
"Of me?" Now it was Anakin's turn to learn something new. "I at the head of a systemic army? You must be joking..."
"Not at all, my boy," Palpatine raised a finger as if trying to emphasize his point. "When I say you are an outstanding individual, I say it from the heart, without the slightest exaggeration. If it were up to me, I would have put you at the head of the entire clone army from the first days of the war, for I am certain only you can lead the Republic to victory. But were I to do so, the Senate—all those pettifoggers and bureaucrats—would immediately turn against me. It could even lead to a vote of no confidence, as happened with the previous Chancellor. And then, in the heat of a bloody war, our state would be left without a leader."
"I understand, Chancellor," and he truly did. He clearly felt that only Palpatine was telling him the pure truth. Because he was the only one he could trust. Anakin had more than once caught himself thinking that the Council was artificially trying to limit his power. To slow down the rapid growth of his career and fame. To put him on the same level as those who had not achieved great success on the military front. The Chancellor was right—despite all their wisdom, Yoda and the other Masters simply could not keep up with the times, clinging to echoes of the past. Had Yoda been more farsighted, he, Skywalker, would be sitting among the Council members, and certainly not that upstart Dougan. Had that happened, none of the Masters would have dared deprive him of his student.
"You are right," Skywalker said with a sigh. "The Council cannot or will not hear you. And yet unity in such a difficult hour for the Republic could lead us to a swifter victory. I should be among the Council members!"
"It is distressing to see that the Council does not wish to appreciate your talents properly," Palpatine said with sincere regret.
"If only I knew why," the former slave said despondently. "More and more, I feel like a stranger in the Order. And the failure with my Padawan has only intensified our disagreements with the Council."
He met Palpatine's gaze. The Chancellor's face wore the expression he used to show his friend that the answer he sought was already within him. And only the fear that his thoughts might be true prevented the young Jedi from saying it himself. But not in the Chancellor's presence. Not after everything he had endured during this year of war.
"The Council..." Anakin felt his throat tighten. "They know something about the Force, and they are hiding it from me."
Palpatine exhaled in relief. He did so whenever he wanted to make it clear that his friend had voiced exactly what the Nabooan wanted to tell him. Anakin thought bitterly of how simple everything would be if Palpatine possessed Force sensitivity. Despite his status as a Jedi Knight, he would have given everything in the world to become his apprentice and learn at least part of his wisdom.
"You are not trusted, Anakin," Palpatine said with sympathy. Skywalker flinched, embarrassed that the Chancellor had so simply voiced his secret thoughts. "They see your future and know you will attain a power beyond their control. You must break through the veil... of distrust with which the Jedi have surrounded you. I believe it is in your power."
"I am not sure I can do it," the Jedi shook his head. "I feel that after the failure with Ahsoka, the Council is even more suspicious of me. They wanted me to learn responsibility and empathy; they honored me by placing her under my tutelage. And I failed..."
"Are you sure of that?" Palpatine asked with a touch of intrigue.
"What do you mean?" Skywalker swallowed the lump in his throat.
"You blame yourself for the failure with your student, believing that the fault for her failure lies with you," the Chancellor explained patiently. "But have you not considered that perhaps she did not listen to your guidance not because you are a poor teacher—I will never believe the latter. Perhaps she is an incapable student? One can spend years teaching a Gungan the basics of piloting a starship, but he will still crash into a swamp."
"Do you really think so?" Palpatine had voiced the thought that had been gnawing at him like corrosion on durasteel. But while Anakin himself had been afraid to even think in such a vein, remembering everything they had been through together, the Supreme Chancellor had voiced the very essence of his spiritual torment. And it was as if a weight had been lifted from his soul. For these were not his words, but the words of a man immensely far from the Force. And since he had reached such a conclusion, could it not be reality? "I... have thought about it."
"Your wisdom is truly great," Palpatine smiled. "But I hope what I tell you will remain between us?"
"Yes, of course," Anakin hotly confirmed his intention to keep the content of the conversation with the Chancellor secret.
"Reflecting on the fact that the student was incapable of understanding your lessons, I wondered: might there be some larger, deeper meaning in this?"
"What do you mean?" Skywalker went cold.
"As much as Master C'baoth told me, every Jedi chooses their own apprentice," Palpatine recalled. "So for what reason did the Council foist Ahsoka Tano on you? Why did they go for such a gross violation of their own traditions?"
Anakin remained silent. How had he not thought of all this himself during this time? Why hadn't he been concerned by this question for even a moment?
"I... don't know..."
"Where is your intuition, my boy?" Palpatine asked in a kind but stern tone. "The answer is on the surface. And if even I see it, then you with your potential should have guessed immediately..."
"Perhaps I am not as wise as you think," Skywalker tried to evade the answer. In fact, it took him only a minute to understand the true reason for Ahsoka's appearance in his life.
"Anakin," Palpatine said peaceably. "Back then on Naboo, when I promised to watch your progress, and afterward, when you first came to me for advice, do you remember what I asked of you?"
"Never to lie to you," the Jedi swallowed. How could he have kept the secret of his wedding from the Chancellor for so long... He was a terrible friend, and it was wrong to continue keeping this secret!
"Exactly," Palpatine nodded. "But do not forget there is a difference between lying and keeping your own secrets. However much we are friends, I will not reveal to you all the secrets of the Republic—and believe me, sometimes I want to so badly. Но сейчас ты пытаешься обмануть меня, сказав, что не получил ответ, который на самом деле уже в твоем разуме. Am I really such a poor teacher?"
"No, Chancellor," Anakin felt guilty for this childish attempt to hide the truth from his friend. Exhaling loudly, he added: "You are right. I know the answer as to why the Council assigned Ahsoka to me as a Padawan."
"And are you ready to voice it for me?" the Nabooan asked, squinting.
"Yes," Skywalker replied quietly. "The Council gave me a disobedient Padawan so that she would let me down. And thus, they could convince me of my own weaknesses as a Jedi and continue to restrain the growth of my powers."
"Wonderful." Anakin caught a hint of pleasure emanating from the Chancellor. But he attributed it to a mentor's pride in his student having solved a difficult problem. "Understanding the cause is the first step toward correcting the situation. If you want to achieve more, you must act as you see fit. And no one—not the Council, not the Jedi, not Obi-Wan—should stand in your way."
"I... understand, Your Excellency," Anakin felt once more like a student being lectured by a mentor. And while Kenobi's classes caused only boredom, the Chancellor's wisdom inspired enthusiastic admiration.
"As in battles, having failed the first time, you must not give up," Palpatine continued to speak to him in a strong, commanding tone. Anakin, soaking up his words, sat silently, staring at one point. To an observer, it might have seemed as if he had fallen into some kind of Jedi trance, but that was not so. Skywalker could not allow himself to be distracted even for a moment from absorbing the advice of his true mentor. "Count Dooku, Yoda's former apprentice, went against the Order. But did the Grand Master stop training Younglings?"
"No," Anakin echoed.
"Since you failed with one Padawan foisted on you by the Council to slow your progress, should you abandon the attempt to raise at least one Jedi in the Order capable of thinking for themselves, rather than with the blinkered dogmas of the Jedi?"
"No..."
"Then why have you not yet found an apprentice whose views are identical to yours?"
"I am not sure there is anyone suitable in the Order..."
"Indeed?" Palpatine was surprised. "I was told that on Jabiim you saved a Padawan who, like you, does not believe in the Council's insight but prefers to think for herself."
"Aubrie Wyn?" Skywalker clarified in surprise, not at all surprised that the Chancellor knew the name. "But she is too close to the Dark Side, she yields to emotion..."
"And are you not?" Palpatine asked with a good-natured smile. "It has always seemed to me that the wisest of those sensitive to the Force do not blindly follow the dogmas of the Order. For you yourself told me how, to save the life of your former student, you chose to violate the principle of non-violence and obtained the necessary information from Poggle the Lesser. And that incident with the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine?"
"I was close to the Dark Side," Anakin felt his mouth go dry.
"As was she. Does that not make you suitable for the roles of teacher and student?"
Anakin did not answer.
Indeed, on Jabiim, Aubrie had unhesitatingly done what was needed to achieve her goal. Just as he had. The Force had literally made them reflections of each other. What was that, if not a sign from above?
"You are right as always, Chancellor," he rose from the chair, bowing respectfully. Palpatine rose and, approaching him, put a hand on his shoulder. With a slow pace, they headed toward the exit. "Sometimes I regret that you cannot be my teacher."
"Perhaps one day, my boy," Palpatine said with approval and ill-concealed satisfaction. "Perhaps one day..."
***
"Are you always so concerned about the safety of all senators, General?" Padmé inquired with a hint of coquetry. She felt a slight pang of conscience, mentally scolding herself for trying—like a naive girl—to make an impression on a Jedi she had, until recently, simply been unable to stomach.
On the other hand, they had only met once. And she had gleaned most of her information about Dougan from her husband's stories. The longer she spent in Rick's company, the more often she caught herself thinking that her previous judgments had been biased.
"And since when have I been calling him by his first name?" the Nabooan checked herself.
"No, Senator," the Jedi said, not taking his eyes off the massive holographic terminal located on the starship's bridge. "In that sense, you are my first."
"An immodest double entendre," Amidala thought with a hint of disappointment. To hear such a thing from a Jedi was surprising. But, the girl corrected herself, she had been for some hours in the company of a completely unusual member of the Order.
"I haven't encountered this type of ship before," she tried to continue the conversation. "Something new?"
"More like well-forgotten old," the Jedi turned to her. "Valor-class cruisers like the Telos, which we are on, were built by the Republic during the Great Galactic War and the subsequent Cold War. Unfortunately, only this ship survived to our time, and yet they significantly surpass all enemy analogues."
"So why aren't they being built again?" Padmé inquired in bewilderment.
"Producing one such ship costs as much as an entire squadron of Venators," the Jedi noted. "It took a lot of resources to update the obsolete systems and bring it into service. This flight is its first mission, besides trials."
"You have a striking penchant for the attributes of antiquity," Padmé noted. "After all, Hammerheads are also relics of ancient wars, aren't they?"
"For someone who actively advocates for cutting military spending, you are strikingly accurately informed," the Jedi chuckled. "But it is not for me to choose. Hammerheads were ordered by the government of Christophsis and are being transferred free of charge for the needs of my army. While we are flying to visit the Banking Clan, a fleet of a hundred of these cruisers, finished in emergency order, is already arriving at the new systemic army headquarters on Christophsis. As are the Marauder-class corvettes produced by Sienar's company."
"You are indiscriminate when it comes to arms suppliers. Raith Sienar was caught trading military technology with the Separatists."
"If I were given a Star Destroyer every time I heard that," the Jedi sighed. "I'd have covered the ship shortage long ago. Да, подобная информация до меня доходила. But notice, we live in a time when part of the Trade Federation and the Banking Clan is at war with us. And for some reason, we still keep their representatives in the Senate. So why should I refuse excellent ships if senators cannot show unilateral firmness in such matters in their own circle?"
Padmé could not find an answer. Indeed, truly bizarre things are happening in the galaxy. The Jedi had voiced only those that are on everyone's lips. And how much did he not know?
"Even on this mission, while on leave, you continue to deal with army business?" she asked, pointing to the holographic figure of a combat machine.
"The position requires always being engaged in affairs," Dougan replied simply.
"I don't think I've seen such equipment in the ranks of the Grand Army of the Republic," Padmé admitted.
"They exist, but in extremely small volumes," the Jedi informed her. "This is an AT-RT, an experimental walker created by Rothana Heavy Engineering for the ill-fated Katana fleet."
"Yes, I heard of that loss," Amidala recalled. "An enormous number of ships lost to the Republic forever."
"That is true," the Jedi agreed. "The Republic will see them as surely as a surplus in its budget."
"I have heard of your ability to find the most productive models of weaponry," Padmé injected flattery, preferring to ignore another jab at her work. "So how does this walker surpass those already in service?"
"With a crew of two, the AT-RT possesses the firepower of an entire unit," the Jedi explained. "And unlike the slow AT-TEs, it can run and sneak. Yes, it is inferior in armor, but this machine is not adapted to fight against heavy equipment. And in urban combat conditions, it significantly surpasses all analogues primarily due to its maneuverability."
"If it's so good, why hasn't it become widespread in the army?" Amidala frowned.
"For the same reason I'm the only one buying Marauders," Dougan chuckled. "It's not profitable for everyone."
"You literally look for corruption everywhere," Padmé said with indignation.
"It's sad you don't see it," the Jedi parried. "And why should you—a staunch opponent of military action—be interested in combat equipment?"
"I like gaining new experiences," the Senator smiled routinely. "After all, the Senate deals with allocating finances for the army. If I know more about exactly what the credits are going toward, perhaps I can convince my colleagues to reconsider their views on banning the purchase of certain models of weaponry."
"Ah, so that's it," the Jedi shook his head. "If that's the case, let me demonstrate the entire line of equipment I intend to purchase with all the money that has entered my systemic army's account. By the way, won't you clarify for me why the volume of funds that has now entered the 'Gent' account is significantly larger than the total budget of all three armies last year?"
"I'm afraid you should ask the members of the relevant committee about that," the Senator spread her hands. "I only know that funding for systemic armies was increased through the protection of the majority of senators in the Loyalist Committee. And even then, different amounts are allocated for each army—not all of them are at the tip of the spear like yours, for example."
"Let me guess," the Jedi snapped his fingers in the air. "You voted for budget cuts."
"Naturally," the former queen said as if it were self-evident, not even batting an eye. "So, what about the briefing on the weaponry models?"
"You're quite a handful, aren't you?" the Jedi huffed.
"And then some," Padmé noted coldly. Seeing the Jedi turn his head toward her with exaggerated slowness, tearing himself away from the holoterminal, she bit her tongue painfully. Now who had asked her to remember a joke from her youth?
"Is that so," the Jedi said. "It seems otherwise you'll bite everything off to the very tailbone. I'll keep that in mind. So, military equipment... The well-known AT-TE, can't do without it..."
Padmé listened with only half an ear, catching herself more on the thought that she was following the Jedi's well-delivered, competent speech. Without frills, strictly to the point, he was lecturing as if he were hardly checking the technical data on the hologram. It seemed he truly knew what he was talking about. For a moment, the former queen imagined him in the place of a politician. In the Senate, where most speakers either resorted to pleas and entreaties or confusedly read their speeches from datapads, he would certainly have captured the attention of the masses. Like herself, Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, or Riyo Chuchi, the Jedi spoke in what's called "his own words." But at the same time, it was simple and concise enough that it became perfectly clear even to an uninitiated listener like her.
Thus, from the very first seconds, she realized that despite all its advantages—protection from ion weapons thanks to built-in electromagnetic shields, the ability (thanks to the walking legs) to penetrate energy shields, relatively high speed, and acceptable maneuverability for its class—the AT-TE had a number of disadvantages. The unarmored, easily targeted pilot's cabin, the exposed gunner's seat for the main cannon, the low rate of fire and low accuracy of the latter, and vulnerability to missile and air attacks due to the lack of missile defense systems and anti-aircraft artillery, combined with narrow firing arcs for the lower turret gunners and the height of the walker itself, made it a relatively easy target.
The AT-HEs, which were a modification of the previous combat machine on higher walking legs, were in the general's opinion even worse than their predecessors on all the points mentioned. Perhaps the firing arcs for the lower guns became wider. But at the same time, the new machine often got stuck where an AT-TE could pass.
The experimental AT-XT model, in Dougan's view—despite never being put into mass production—nevertheless deserved attention, largely because it retained the AT-RT's armament concept: laser cannons combined with proton mortars. And again, one such relatively inexpensive walker could replace an entire platoon on the battlefield.
Light AT-RT walkers also received flattering reviews from the general, though not without noting drawbacks like the open cabin with no protection, which turned the single pilot into a target for the enemy's precision weapons. Looking at the fragile-looking structure and listening to the Jedi's explanations, Padmé caught herself wondering why the creators of this combat machine hadn't installed, for example, field generators similar to those used by Separatists on droidekas. Or shields technologically based on the principles of Gungan infantry shields. It gave the impression that the equipment designers cared not a whit about preserving the life of the soldier operating the machine.
The TX-130 tanks and SPHA-T units were categorized by the Jedi as a "necessary evil," since in the Republic army, despite the length of the conflict, they remained the only representatives of repulsor tanks and long-range artillery, respectively. The AV-7 anti-vehicle cannon model demonstrated next fell into the same category.
The line of Juggernaut-class wheeled all-terrain vehicles was, in Dougan's opinion, perfectly suited for operations on shifting and soft surfaces—in short, where walkers completely lost their maneuverability. It was no surprise that he had purchased truly colossal batches of both modifications—the A5 and A6.
And then, the Jedi began a very cool account of equipment models he characterized as "unnecessary junk." The AT-OT walker—a huge beast on eight "legs," protected only by four light cannons—was characterized by the manufacturer as a transport walker. Capable of carrying a truly ridiculous number of soldiers—only three dozen—it for some reason, as Padmé remembered from Anakin's stories, was popular in the army.
Padmé was no longer listening to the descriptions of the AT-AA, AT-AP, and UT-AT walkers, though she didn't show that the monologue had ceased to interest her.
To be honest, in reality, the war and everything technically connected to it interested Padmé very little in this situation. Yes, by duty of her work, she had to at least partially distinguish a walker from a Juggernaut, but she never delved into technical details.
Listening to the Jedi, she realized a simple truth.
This man is consumed by war. Entirely given over to it, and he sees nothing wrong in that.
His stories about the advantages and disadvantages of one or another type of ground equipment could have seemed from the side like a tall tale about the adventures of several slightly tipsy friends. Only people deeply passionate about their work can speak like that.
She had heard similar "breathless" accounts from Anakin when he had the chance to pilot some new ship. With glowing eyes, with the smallest details, with boundless attention to detail.
Padmé caught herself thinking she hadn't noticed how this type of man had firmly entered her life.
The first was Rush Clovis, with his devotion to the Banking Clan's cause. He could talk for hours about currency emissions, interest rates, new loan repayment programs, and his own vision for the further development of banking.
The second was her husband, Anakin. Sometimes, acting as a silent listener to his monologues, the Nabooan caught herself thinking that in this love triangle, she was entirely superfluous. At times it seemed that if it were possible, her husband would take a second wife—one of the Nabooan yachts at her disposal, whose complex design caused complaints from mechanics in many corners of the galaxy. For Skywalker, it was the opposite—the more complex the machinery, the brighter his eyes shone.
And finally, the third. Grand Moff Dougan. A man, a Jedi, a commander. Like a mockery of the Order's tenets, he craved battles. His desire to look after his soldiers only emphasized how deeply he was mired in all of this. A man whose life henceforth is not the preservation of peace, but the conduct of war. Ever since Geonosis, she had feared that one day Anakin would turn into someone like Rick Dougan. A man-machine living in the realm of eternal war.
It frightened her. Peace-loving by nature, she did not, of course, shrink from picking up a blaster when circumstances demanded it. And more than once, at the risk of her life, she had escaped from difficult scrapes. But for no amount of credits would she thrust herself into them again of her own free will.
And at the same time, she was strangely attracted in men to such a fierce passion for their work. On Naboo, she had often seen families where husbands, though heads of the family, lived drifting with the current. Without passions or aspirations, giving themselves entirely to the family. Padmé had wanted such a thing for herself. Before.
Now, when the galaxy was engulfed in fire, she, like any woman of her age, thought about conceiving and bearing a child. Leaving politics and dedicating herself to motherhood. She was afraid to start such conversations with her husband—having mentioned it only once, she was met with his complete lack of understanding of the wonders of childbirth. Anakin was firm in his convictions: the current galaxy is no place for an innocent child. Too dangerous, too unpredictable. But if not now, then when? A human woman's life cycle is not long—a hundred years on average. The reproductive cycle is even shorter. And the longer this war lasted, the more reasons her jealous husband had to object to conception. It was interesting to wonder: had Dougan and Chuchi thought about this? Padmé shamefully admitted she didn't know for certain whether Pantorans and humans could have common offspring. Но последние же – боковая ветвь людей. Как коруны, кореллианцы. It was surely possible.
"And, as I understand it, you couldn't care less about what I'm saying," the Jedi's mentoring tone changed to a mocking one. Padmé shook her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts.
"Just a little," she lied. "You tell it quite entertainingly; I was listening so intently I went into my thoughts, considering how I can convince senators to give sufficient attention to the models of equipment you recommended."
"Uh-huh," the Jedi said in a bored tone. "While I was speaking, I was watching you. Whatever you were thinking about, it was definitely not walkers. It's not my habit to pry into someone's soul, but I'll make an exception for you. So, Senator, is something bothering you?"
Padmé didn't even try to hide her slight surprise. Of course, Anakin also reacted to her mood swings and general emotional background. But he never asked point-blank like that.
"Each of us has something to worry about," the Nabooan shrouded it in mist. "Believe me, these are my personal problems; there's no need for you to know about them."
"As you wish," the Jedi shrugged. Turning to the holoterminal, he turned the device off, after which he extracted an information chip from it and hid it in a pocket on his belt.
"If you need me, I'll be at the front of the bridge," with a joking salute to her, he headed off in the opposite direction at a strolling pace.
The girl was left alone in the middle of the vast space of the bridge.
She had been on warships before. But comparing the size of the control room on the Telos with those she had seen, the girl concluded that several starfighters could have been housed here.
Many tactical terminals, behind which were clones from the crew members, demonstrated constantly changing information, while the blue-white light of hyperspace penetrated through the wide glazing of the bridge. A mesmerizing sight, and simultaneously a frightening one.
Padmé suddenly felt that she was becoming cold. Shivering, she regretted choosing an outfit with open shoulders and back. She should have provided for another option. Too bad there's no time to go to her cabin to change.
In an hour and a half, they will arrive in Scipio's orbit, after which they will reach the surface by military shuttle. Following that, she faces a meeting with the board of banks to carry out her mission.
Despite often feeling lonely in her work, right now she wanted company nearby. Therefore, casting her gaze over the huge bridge, the girl headed toward the observation transparisteel windows.
"Missed me already, Senator?" the Jedi huffed as soon as she approached him. With his arms crossed over his chest, he was peering somewhere through the windows, as if he could see something specific in the flickering haze.
"Some kind of problem with the ventilation," she shivered. "I think I've started to freeze."
"And you've come to me so I can warm you up?" the Jedi chuckled.
Padmé flared up at such tactlessness.
"If that's a joke, it's an extremely poor one," she noted dryly.
"No jokes here," she hadn't even had time to blink before Dougan deftly cast off his matte-black cloak, adorned with silver-gray trim, and draped it over the girl's shoulders. And practically in the same instant, she felt better. The chill receded, and the listless state was immediately replaced by a clear perception of reality.
"Thank you," she muttered in embarrassment.
"Don't mention it," he replied simply.
The girl looked at him with curiosity. As if she were seeing him for the first time.
He was taller than she was, like Anakin. But unlike her husband, who was tall and lean, Dougan completely hid his body under fabric armor, over which gray-colored plate was worn.
Yes, Anakin also wore armor, but only certain elements. In her entire life and political career, the girl had seen only members of the Royal Guard—the Chancellor's new security unit—in such solid equipment covering the whole body.
"Why do you wear armor?" she asked.
"It extends life," he replied. "Special types of metal are woven into the suit which, for example, shut down lightsabers. A useful acquisition when you want to keep all your body parts with you."
"And the face mask is for that too?" At first she had thought he was wearing a helmet, but now, when his cloak lay on her shoulders and the hood did not hide most of his head except for his face, she noticed that it was actually only a mask worn over a tight cowl fitting the head.
"No," a chuckle came from under the mask. "Not only because I don't want to take a blaster bolt from an enemy sniper. In the battle with Count Dooku's henchwoman, my body... changed significantly. My face became less presentable, shall we say."
"There are many ways in the galaxy to get rid of a disfigurement," Padmé reminded him. Inside her, ordinary feminine curiosity flared up—to find out what her interlocutor looked like under the mask. And what he looked like before the injuries.
"In the Celestial River many things exist," Dougan noted philosophically. "The question of my own beauty is not a priority for me right now, although a way to return my original appearance exists. I'll get to that in the near future," he added with a chuckle.
"And what is the priority for you?" the girl asked out of curiosity.
"Establishing peace and tranquility in the galaxy," the Jedi replied simply, yet pretentiously.
"Isn't that too vast a task?" Padmé doubted.
"Well, if the Senate isn't managing, who else but me?"
"And once more you denigrate the work of the people's representatives," the Senator wrinkled her nose. How can such a seemingly progressive person state such blatant nonsense?
"There is no work there," the Jedi declared. "In my homeland there is a proverb: 'With seven nannies, the child has no eye.' So it is with democracy—everyone pulls the blanket over themselves instead of working together."
"And nonetheless, democracy is the best form of government in the galaxy," the girl stated confidently.
"Really?" a note of irony sounded in the Jedi's voice. "Is that why kings are elected on Naboo, and not presidents?"
"That is our tradition..."
"To gather the whole world and choose someone who will deal with all the built-up crap," Dougan commented. "Yes, immensely effective. And when a king doesn't suit—choose another. Our song is good, let's start from the beginning."
"Democracy is the path of the people's freedom!" the Nabooan protested hotly. "After all, even in the Republic a Supreme Chancellor is elected—to set the course of development."
"Is that why you removed him, Senator? The course didn't suit?"
"No, that was a completely different situation!"
"Senator," Dougan looked away from his contemplation of hyperspace and turned his head toward her. "Ten years ago, thanks to your immaturity, a man came to power whom you are effectively opposing now, advocating for the limitation of his powers. Doesn't that seem like some kind of farce to you?"
"I believe Chancellor Palpatine has good intentions," Padmé said. "But emergency powers..."
"Did you not wonder for what reason the Senate so easily invests the Chancellor with more and more powers?"
"To resolve the crisis, obviously."
"And tell me, in that case, how does a Chancellor—having received back all the powers that have been cut from his office over the last millennium—differ from a monarch, a tyrant, and a despot?"
Amidala wanted to answer with something sharp and daring, but she could not formulate a retort in time. And after a minute of silence, were she to utter it, it would look truly ridiculous.
"You criticize the Chancellor," she noted. "But after all, it was he who put you in this post. Aren't you afraid someone might report your thoughts to Palpatine?"
"And who, Senator? Perhaps you, his staunch opponent? Or some member of the crew? Believe me, the clones aren't at all interested in what we are talking about."
"You're so sure I won't betray you..." the girl muttered. "You certainly have a way of making friends."
"So you and I are already friends?" the Jedi chuckled. "But no jokes, Padmé. The galaxy will have a hard time if the Chancellor gains unlimited power."
"For that, he would need to liquidate the Senate," the girl countered, ignoring the fact that Rick had called her by her first name.
"Believe me," the Jedi said in a strangely insinuating tone. "Palpatine is capable of anything to hold onto power. But you can trust me unconditionally. Whatever it may look like to you from the side—I am categorically against the Chancellor continuing to be in power."
Padmé felt a light dizziness. The man continued to speak, but she no longer made out the words. His voice seemed to hypnotize her, and she stood beside him obediently with her eyes closed, listening to the timbre. A light rasp in the man's voice gave each of his words a peculiar charm, making it harder and harder to keep her eyes open.
"Well now," she heard his voice, which reached her as if from another galaxy. "You've been overcome by drowsiness. An interesting side effect. Time for you to hit the hay. God forbid you fall and hit your head. You're foolish enough as it is; wouldn't want it to get worse."
Without asking permission, the Jedi unceremoniously scooped her up in his arms and with a confident stride headed away from the bridge. Padmé felt a pleasant warmth emanating from Dougan, which—like sunbeams—lulled her, forcing her to relax. The girl, being almost in a daze, noted that it was wrong for her, a married woman, to be carried to her apartments by a stranger, a man, her husband's colleague. How humiliating. As if she had once again found herself at the graduation ball at the school of politics on Naboo.
On the other hand, what difference did it make? Anakin isn't seeing this.
***
As soon as his starfighter's canopy flipped back, Obi-Wan easily climbed out of the cockpit of the Azure Angel, jumping onto the landing pad with youthful ease. Drawing in air with a noise, he for a moment imagined the point in his life when he first set foot on the ground of this planet.
Mandalore.
The homeland of fierce warriors, ruthless killers, sadists, and the best mercenaries in the galaxy. Small wonder that it was one of them Sifo-Dyas chose as the donor for the clone army.
"Duchess Satine expects you," a palace guard in a completely closed helmet appeared in his field of vision. The personal security of the ruler of Mandalore.
"I cannot allow myself to make her wait any longer," Obi-Wan sighed, boarding the repulsor transport which—as soon as he was beside the guard sent to meet him—bolted from its place.
They had met at the height of the Mandalorian Civil War, when it seemed almost everyone wanted to kill the young Duchess Kryze, who had become the face and symbol of the pacifist movement in a barbarian and dying world. Together with his master, Qui-Gon, he had protected the girl for a whole year from the fate of being killed.
It was this that had brought them close at that time—a lush youth, rich in colors, fantasies, dreams, and an irresistible desire to share your fate with the person most dear to you.
As in the case of his first unrequited love, Siri Tachi, Obi-Wan chose to remain faithful to the Order and return to Coruscant after the mission. Though had she asked him to stay... He most likely would have left. No, he almost certainly would have left the Order just to stay with her.
But she had remained silent. As befits a Duchess, she had met his announcement of departure coldly and thanked him restrainedly for saving her life. And since then, they hadn't seen each other for... too long.
And now, once again, only duty had brought him to this planet. Duty and obligation to the Order, for the sake of which he had sacrificed his happiness. And he should hardly hope for a warm reception.
Already the fact that, having dismounted after a short walk, Kenobi was met not by the ruler of Mandalore herself but by her Prime Minister.
Having exchanged greetings in the throne room, Obi-Wan observed the empty throne with hidden longing.
"How unpleasant it is for me to see a Jedi on our planet," meanwhile, Almec continued. "It concerns me that baseless accusations and suspicions have brought you to us. Mandalore is a neutral system, and there can be no talk of any alliances with the Separatists."
"And yet, certain facts exist," Kenobi countered. "Weapons and armor of clearly Mandalorian design have appeared on the black market. If this is merely a random coincidence, then I offer apologies in advance. And furthermore, I would like to speak with the Duchess in private," he asked the Prime Minister.
"Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi," a fragile-looking woman dressed in traditional Mandalorian attire emerged from somewhere to the side, through a secret door. "Has the galaxy run out of worlds in need of your help?" the Duchess inquired.
"I am glad to see you in good health," Obi-Wan smiled, feeling a cold politeness emanating from the Mandalorian ruler. And a hidden joy at the meeting. "I regret that tragic events have once again brought me to Mandalore..."