Treading almost noiselessly along the path winding between buildings, Ahsoka, while trying not to take her eyes off the prisoner, was nonetheless mentally far from here.
Literally just yesterday her world had collapsed. Expulsion, the loss of her mentor and the meaning of life...
And already this morning, as dawn barely broke after she had spent the rest of the night in a stupor, her fate had taken a radical turn.
As soon as she woke up, she almost immediately sensed an extremely powerful Force-sensitive sentient in the room near her. Still half-asleep, the girl rejoiced, thinking that her former master was nearby! He alone possessed such a level of Force.
Turning her head, she stared in surprise at the familiar armored Jedi sitting in a chair next to her bed. The girl listened to her senses and realized she was not mistaken. All this power emanated from the Jedi Master. But she had never felt anything of the kind in his presence before!
"Awake? Good," Dougan leaned forward slightly. "There's something you need to hear..."
He spoke for a long time. And with every minute the girl felt goosebumps running down her spine. With each new fact—larger than the previous ones.
At first she thought the Jedi was joking. The attack on the Temple and the theft of the holocrons—the work of his subordinates? Then her expulsion was also a consequence of his actions. But for what?!
The man gave an answer to that question too. And to every one that arose in the girl's mind. Without concealment, he told her everything.
About what fate was in store for the Jedi Order.
About the role of her former master in the deaths of her brothers and sisters-in-arms. And even the Younglings.
About the terror and fear that the Sith would flood the galaxy with.
About numerous wars, conflicts, billions of dead.
About the invasion of aliens from beyond the galaxy and the long, grueling struggle against them.
The Jedi (though what right could he have to call himself that?!) continued his story with tales of the Sith's repeated attempts to restore their Empire.
And finally, in general terms, he informed the girl of his desire to put an end to the internal strife in the galaxy.
When he finished, he folded his hands on his knees, interlacing his fingers. His entire pose suggested an expectant character. He wanted an answer to the question that had not been voiced.
"I don't know what reaction you expect from me," she snapped, turning away from the man. "You should be handed over to the Order Council and tried. You, not the Sith, are the main threat to the galaxy and the Jedi."
"Strangely enough, I don't intend to talk you out of that," Dougan said unexpectedly. "I have a request."
"I don't intend to do anything for you!" the girl declared.
"Nonetheless, I shall voice it," the man insisted. "Last night the daughters of the ruler of Pantora were kidnapped. You are acquainted with Senator Chuchi, aren't you? You needn't answer; I know you are. Olie and one of my assistants will depart on missions to liberate them."
"Why would you help the Pantorans?"
"Because I can. And an important factor—the Order refused to intervene in this matter, considering the kidnapping of children an insignificant problem for intervention."
"You're lying! The Council could not!"
"Check it yourself," the man shrugged. "Baron Papanoida is expecting the assistants I promised by nine in the morning standard time. Do you think he will lie to you?"
"And what if what you've said is true?"
"I ask you to join the mission to rescue the Chairman's daughters. Afterward—if you do not wish to join me, you are free to do as you please."
The girl stared at the man with suspicion. There must be a trick in his words. Surely he, the author of such a large-scale plan, wouldn't take such a risk.
"I am of little use," the Togruta stated. "I don't even have a weapon."
"That is solvable," Dougan pointed to a small table standing next to her bed. Turning her head, Ahsoka saw with surprise two lightsaber hilts. Completely unlike her own weapons.
"I would be glad to speak with you for some time longer," the man rose and walked toward the exit. "But business awaits me."
Satisfied that he had turned his back to her, Ahsoka lightning-fast jumped out from under the blanket and pulled the weapons to her with the Force. One of the hilts fit into her small hands perfectly. The room filled with the sound of an activated lightsaber.
"Thinking of killing me?" the man asked, turning his head slightly toward her.
"I would very much like to!" the girl hissed through her teeth. Holding the snow-white-silver blade before her face in her habitual reverse grip, the Togruta was not lying. It really seemed to her that there was no point in trying to capture the man. She had already guessed that he had been hiding his true power in the Force all this time. It was not a given that even now he wasn't masking an even greater potential. It was simply dangerous to leave him alive.
But something stopped her, preventing her from launching an attack. Ahsoka caught herself thinking that Dougan's actions actually made sense. As one of the probable lines of development. Even the theft of the holocrons, after his confession, she perceived as a correct decision—in that case, they at least wouldn't fall into the hands of the Sith. One of whom her former master was to become.
Ahsoka had little belief in such a thing. Of course, Skywalker held radical views and often acted contrary to the Code. But to fall to the Dark Side? To kill children?
No, she didn't believe in that.
"I know," Dougan said calmly, turning to face her. "Your emotions betray you. If you permit, I will teach you to be strong."
"And serve the Dark Side? No thanks, I'll pass!"
"To maintain Balance in the Force," the man corrected her. "To draw energy from the Living Force without dividing it into two crude sides. To realize and subject your own potential and use it for the good of the galaxy."
"Which by then will be under your heel?" the girl squinted. "Never!"
"It is sad to hear that," the man admitted. "But we will talk after we return. You will have time to think everything over. Lady Atroxa will give you suitable clothes—you aren't going to rescue anyone in just your underpants, are you?"
The Lethan Twi'lek who ran the house turned out to be a friendly and attentive hostess. Ahsoka sensed the Dark Side energy emanating from her, but like Olie, chose not to voice her thoughts. It wasn't time yet. She needed to get a handle on what was happening and only then act.
Baron Papanoida confirmed Dougan's words. The Council really hadn't taken up the case of the girls' kidnapping. And this somewhat bothered the former Padawan.
Blood found on one of the figurines led them to Greedo—a Rodian bounty hunter who, according to Lady Atroxa, lived on Tatooine. At the same time, the Twi'lek was certain that one of Papanoida's daughters might be aboard a ship blockading Pantora. Where she got this information, she didn't bother to say. But Ahsoka guessed without explanation that Rick Dougan had a hand in unraveling this crime. Their small company had to split up to reach both places simultaneously. Olie, with whom the Togruta hadn't had a chance to talk properly, flew out to Pantora with Senator Chuchi.
She herself, along with Lady Atroxa, set out for Tatooine.
Not to say that Jabba Desilijic Tiure, the head of a criminal organization controlling vast territories of the Outer Rim, was glad for such guests. Having heard their suspicions of his involvement in the kidnapping of the Chairman's children, the Hutt only laughed. However, upon hearing from the Twi'lek exactly whom they represented, he changed his mind about throwing them into the rancor pit. He ordered his lackeys to bring the Rodian who, it appeared, had decided to "earn some on the side" in bypass of his master's main rule—to receive money and work only from Jabba's own hands.
He didn't hold out long—it turned out for Atroxa to be enough to cut off just one finger with a lightsaber for the mercenary to start talking. He told in detail and depth about who had hired him and for what reason. Where the captives were being held. And who else was involved in his side work.
Upon parting, the Hutt asked Atroxa to convey his infinite respect to Grand Moff Dougan. And this only further convinced the young Togruta that the Plan the man spoke of was actually much more multifaceted than it had seemed at first.
Anakin had told her that Hutts are extremely foul and exceedingly cruel creatures who don't care about human fates. Only personal gain. They respect strength, and there is unlikely a person or organization in the galaxy capable of forcing them to submit.
It turns out her former master was wrong. Such a force was found.
Ahsoka had heard that Dougan had managed to conclude an alliance treaty between the Republic and the Hutts. The latter were exerting huge efforts and spending millions of credits organizing refugee camps in various parts of the Outer Rim and participating in the reconstruction of worlds destroyed during the war. Activity not characteristic of Hutts in principle. Under other circumstances, the Order would certainly have undertaken an investigation into this suspicious activity. But now, in the heat of war, the Jedi were occupied on the battlefields.
"What thoughts are troubling you, little Togruta?" Lady Atroxa broke into her reflections.
"I... a lot is in my head," the girl tried to evade the answer.
"I understand," the Lethan smiled. Noticing that the Rodian had slowed his pace and was trying to look around, she gave him a sharp box on the ear. Hissing in pain, the mercenary returned to a fast walk. "I felt something similar after my capture on Korriban."
"And how did you deal with it?" Ahsoka asked out of curiosity.
"I was tortured," the Lethan shrugged. "For several years. They split my consciousness and glued it back together. Ceaseless ideological conditioning. When I tried to resist, my body was subjected to torture. And it all repeated again and again..."
"Brrr," imagining the scene, the Togruta couldn't keep herself from a nervous shiver. "It turns out I was lucky that Dougan just talked to me..."
"Indeed?" the Twi'lek smiled. "He is... much better than the one I and the other Hands served before."
"Truly? It seems to me that someone planning a war in a whole galaxy cannot be better than anyone."
The Twi'lek laughed.
"Believe me, if you met Vitiate, you would pray to all your gods to run as far from him as possible. Now he was truly a monster. At least he was."
"And what did he do?"
"He sucked the life out of several planets for the sake of his immortality," Atroxa began to list. "Unleashed a war between the galaxy's largest states for the sake of total extermination, intending to reshape the Celestial River to his own taste. Shall I go on?"
"Well," swallowing the lump in her throat, Ahsoka said. "Against his background, Dougan really is just a dear."
"You see," the Sith Lady smiled. "Everything isn't as bad as it seems to you."
"Mass killings and war are not the way of the Light Side."
"The Emperor is not an adherent of only the Light," the Lethan corrected the girl. "He does not limit himself in the tools for achieving the goal. Balance in the Force—that is our philosophy, which is rooted in the distant past. And the only one that truly serves the good, not the selfish motives of specific orders."
"Yes, he spoke. The Je'daii Order," Ahsoka recalled. "I'm not sure I'm ready to just drop my principles like that and learn to release Lightning or indulge in anger."
"I would be immensely surprised if you accepted a new philosophy immediately," the Lady admitted. "All of this is too fundamental to act rashly. It takes time."
"No, I truly understand the necessity of putting an end to all wars and disagreements," the girl said. "But is it even possible at all?"
"The Master's motives are, of course, idealistic—conflict is in the very nature of sentients," Atroxa admitted. "However, the unification of the galaxy under the rule of one thoughtful and active leader, under the protection of an army and fleet ready to intervene in any illegal actions and nip them in the bud—isn't that sufficient motivation for the galaxy to take the blinders off its eyes?"
"Forcing peace under the threat of military intervention?" Ahsoka flared up. "That is barbarism! Such actions will only turn those you intend to lead to peace against you."
"Actually," unexpectedly for both, Greedo spoke up. "There is sense in her words. Many races respect a strength greater than their own. Mandalorians, Weequay, Hutts, Rodians, Duros, Barabel, Trandoshans..."
"No one asked you," Ahsoka snapped. "Is it much further?"
"One more block," Greedo said with a hung head.
"So keep walking," Atroxa advised. "But for the solidarity—thank you."
"That won't return my finger," the mercenary snarled.
"But it will teach you not to cross those who are stronger," Atroxa noted. "You said yourself that your kin respect Strength."
"And so do I!" the green-skinned one squeaked. "You don't need to kill me!"
"Once we're finished with the hostages, we'll return to that question," the Twi'lek promised. However, Ahsoka was certain—the Rodian would not survive this night.
And yet, he had confirmed the Twi'lek's words.
In the galaxy, strength and resoluteness were indeed respected. The problem was that neither the Order nor the Republic itself acted that way. They treated the symptoms of problems but rarely reached the problem itself. At a time when the Separatist issue should have been radically solved, the Republic was conducting a bloody war. Though even Anakin said that by gathering all forces into a fist, the fleet could break through the enemy's formations and crush its strategic centers. And then the war would have ended in a few months.
Unfortunately, despite the enormous number of shipyards and factories under their control, the Republicans could not afford such an adventurous idea, constrained by the opinions of senators and politicians who knew nothing of war but restrained the military, dictating their will to them. And this only dragged out the conflict, during which millions of citizens died. The girl caught herself thinking that despite intuitive objections, she agreed with Atroxa. A strong centralized power with the constant support of the military is a guarantor of stability. How many problems could have been avoided if the Republic had and knew how to use its armed forces? Would piracy and smuggling have flourished? Would the Trade Federation and the Banking Clan have been able to have their own armed forces then? After all, they appeared for private individuals only as a response to the lawlessness happening around them! And would there have been this lawlessness at all? How many sentients would have wanted to indulge in violence and crime if they knew that combat groups would fly after them and there would be no mercy? And there would be a fair and impartial court; not years of litigation where the winner was the one with more money and connections?
While they were flying here, Atroxa had told her about the first Eternal Empire, a practically utopian state where Force adepts stood guard over the law. Where droid armies worked for the good of the population, which lived in prosperity and peace. She told her about the Eternal Fleet, which for hundreds of years had guarded peace and tranquility in the state, and later kept both the Republic and the Sith Empire under control, receiving tribute from them in exchange for security. Yes, there had been terrible pages of history—when Arcann, the son of the Immortal Emperor, came to power and usurped the throne. And then the utopia turned into a nightmare for many years—until the Hero of Tython subjected this force and returned peace to the galaxy. And who broke that peace? The Republic and the Sith Empire, Darkness and Light, which cannot live together knowing of each other's existence. But the hundreds of years of peace and prosperity of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul confirmed Dougan's concept—by serving the Living Force, its adepts can establish order in the galaxy. Or at least some part of it.
Ahsoka felt a rush of heat.
Is this for real? Had she really concluded that despotism is the best thing in store for this galaxy?
How had this appeared in her head!? Perhaps she had simply yielded to someone's influence?
Or...
The Togruta went cold.
Or was it really she—no longer bound by obligations to the Order, freed from the weight of dogmas and the Code—who had begun to think independently? And outside the Jedi worldviews, it turns out the galaxy really does need a strong hand?!
The young Togruta was never able to think through the answer to that question.
"It's here," Greedo said, pointing to an inconspicuous, typical Tatooinian building. "One of the Pantorans is here. But you need me!"
"What for?" the Twi'lek didn't understand, examining her lightsaber in her hands.
"If you show up there without me, they'll suspect something's wrong!" the Rodian began to babble quickly. "But this way, I'll say you're CIS representatives and are transporting a hostage..."
"Hm," the Sith Lady uttered. "Well, let's try it. You understand that your chances are inversely proportional to the number of problems we have?"
"Yes, yes, yes," the Rodian shrunk back. "So, are we going?"
Without words, the Twi'lek pushed the prisoner in the back, as if to say, move. Casting a quick glance at the Togruta, the Twi'lek smiled approvingly, noticing that she, like the Lethan, had hidden her weapon in her glove. No need to advertise the presence of Force-users here. At least until everything goes to hell.
Inside it was... dirty. As always in such places. During her apprenticeship, Ahsoka had more than once been in such questionable establishments in Anakin's company.
And the faces of the sentients present here suggested that they were more trouble than they were worth.
"Stay alert," the Sith Lady whispered. "And don't let them seize the initiative."
Meanwhile Greedo, approaching the bar, seized the drink of one of the criminals present here and demanded he bring the captive.
"Seems everything is fine," Ahsoka thought.
"What are you doing here?" one of the patrons, whose behavior spoke of his place in the criminal hierarchy—higher than the Rodian's own—approached Greedo.
"Plans changed," the mercenary snapped. "We were ordered to move the captive."
"Oh? And by whom?"
"The client. They said her father is looking for the girl and her sister—need to hide them better."
"Something's fishy about you, Greedo," the criminal said with suspicion. "And you're strangely nervous... Who are these two women?"
"Representatives of the client," Atroxa intercepted the thread of the conversation. "And if you don't want trouble—do as ordered."
"Oh, really?" Greedo's comrade feigned surprise. "Well, I was told to keep the girl here. And I somehow doubt the Trade Federation has child mercenaries..."
He didn't have time to finish.
A blindingly red stroke of a light blade split him from the shoulder to... hm, the place on which his species can physiologically sit.
As soon as the first enemy fell, the Lethan flitted from her spot like a whirlwind, unleashing her rage on the bandits who had only just realized they had stumbled into a story with an unclear ending.
Ahsoka lightning-fast deflected a blaster bolt fired at her, redirecting it into the floor. The next aimed shot from the Weequay whom Greedo had sent for the captive—but who obviously hadn't reached the destination—she returned to its author. With a hole burned in his right eye, the bandit fell dead.
The Togruta, shuddering from the piercing screams that filled the establishment after Atroxa, having burst into the group of scoundrels, unceremoniously carved them to pieces. Slicing bodies apart, she—like a deadly natural cataclysm—destroyed any threat.
And after a few minutes, it was all over.
"Y-you are monsters, Jedi," whispered Greedo, who had miraculously survived this mess. The Rodian, contemplating the scene of the slaughter from behind the bar where he had darted as soon as the butchery began, now crawled out from cover. In his hands was a blaster pistol, but its barrel was aimed at the tabletop.
"We are not Jedi," Ahsoka said in a stifled voice. But no one was going to explain the difference between Force adepts to the mercenary.
"Bring the girl," Atroxa demanded, grabbing him by the collar. "Before you join them."
Greedo, pushing the weapon away from him, slowly—looking over his shoulder at every step to see if the two killers with lightsabers would attack—vanished into the back room of the establishment.
"Was that really so necessary?" the Togruta grimaced, turning her eyes away from the bedlam.
"Yes," the Sith Lady replied shortly. "For the same reason you didn't leave him alive," she poked toward the former Padawan's victim.
"It's... a reflex," the girl tried to explain. "Deflecting the shots of CIS droids back at the target."
"And what did you train yourself that way for?"
"To neutralize the threat," the girl frowned. "Is that not clear?"
"Each of them," the Lethan pointed at the corpses. "They were a threat. Which we neutralized to complete our assignment. By wounding one of us or revealing our identity to someone, they would surely have become the cause of our subsequent troubles. Sentients do not change, and in the future you will surely face the consequences of your overly pitying decisions."
"And him?" Seeing Greedo emerge from the nook, Ahsoka became interested in his fate. "Is he not a threat?"
"Here she is," the Rodian, with a panicked look, pushed a tall Pantoran toward them with her hands tied behind her back and a gag in her mouth. "I hope our agreement stands?"
"You're a very poor mercenary, Greedo," the Lethan deftly untied the Pantoran and removed the gag from the latter's mouth. "You should shoot first."
"Who are you?" with a frightened look, the Pantoran girl shifted her gaze from the Twi'lek to the Togruta.
"We will take you to your father," Ahsoka hurried to reassure her. "I will escort you..."
"I'll do it myself," the Sith Lady said unexpectedly. "And you, finish here as you see fit."
After these words, the Twi'lek unceremoniously, taking the Pantoran by the elbow, went outside, leaving Ahsoka alone with Greedo and a dozen corpses of varying degrees of disfigurement.
One needn't be a Sith to understand—the Twi'lek had allowed her to decide for herself whether the mercenary would live or die. The dilemma that opened before the girl put her in a double position.
"Please," Greedo began to babble. "Don't kill me. I'll be silent. Mute as a bantha. I... I'll fly away from here, change my name and never again remember what happened here." Folding his hands in a pleading gesture, the Rodian took several steps toward the Togruta.
Master had always said that mercenaries cannot be trusted. They are ready to sell their own mother for a pack of credits—and those are the best of them. Greedo is just local scum, ready to commit any baseness for money.
But at the same time, he is unarmed. Jedi do not act that way. He is defenseless and represents no threat. One only needs to take a promise of silence from him.
"Alright," the girl squeezed out, hanging her weapon's hilt on her belt. "You will do as you said. And it's better for you if no one ever knows about this."
"Yes, of course, everything will be in the best light," the Rodian rejoiced.
The girl, casting a gaze over the scene of the slaughter, sighed heavily and headed for the exit.
Inside, doubts gnawed at her, but Ahsoka decided she would do the right thing. Perhaps she is no longer a Jedi, but she is obligated to serve the Force. She is in no way obligated to Dougan. He and his servants are wrong. The galaxy doesn't need to be corrected by allowing the irreparable to happen. War is devastation, not a healing procedure. She will return to Coruscant and hand him over to the Council. Not to return to the Order, but so that evil does not remain unpunished. And the traces in this cantina will serve as irrefutable proof...
The first thing she heard was the dull thud of an object falling next to her. Glancing at her feet, the girl discovered with horror that a belt with activated thermal detonators lay at her heels. And judging by the blinking indicators, very little time remained.
"Die, cursed Jedi!" Greedo stood by the bar, aiming a blaster at her. The very one he had found while hiding during the cantina sweep.
She did not think about how to act. Instincts took over.
With a Force push, she threw the detonators away from her into the mass of disfigured bodies. Simultaneously, she parried the blaster shot, redirecting it into the mercenary's chest. With her next action, she lunged outside, blowing the cantina door out with that same Force.
The blast wave hit her in the back, throwing her several meters. Burrowing into the sand, the girl groaned, feeling several small shards dig into her back.
Biting her lip, she slowly rose to her feet, casting a glance at the establishment blazing with bright fire. Its roof and most of the walls had collapsed, burying the bodies of the slain bandits under the debris. The Togruta reached out to the ruins with the Force. The hope that the Rodian could have survived the explosion proved dangerous.
"To be honest," Atroxa said from the darkness, stepping into the light from the shadow of the nearest building. "I thought you'd just run him through with a sword. Но взрыв, согласна, решает прям все проблемы. And it's beautiful, Hutt take it."
"I didn't intend to kill him," Ahsoka admitted. "But as soon as I turned away, he threw grenades at my feet and tried to kill me with a blaster."
"Is that so," the Twi'lek returned to the darkness, deftly and without any effort lifting the unconscious Pantoran onto her shoulder. "I thought you were smarter."
And without saying another word, she trudged along the familiar road toward the spaceport.
Left alone, Ahsoka, noticing onlookers scurrying between the houses, hurried to hide in a nearby alley. No point in showing herself near the smoking and blazing ruins of an establishment inside which were at least four corpses carved to pieces.
Walking on the warm Tatooine sand, the girl removed both lightsabers—Dougan's gift—from her belt. They were clearly made with care and were quite similar to her old saber. She felt several crystals inside each hilt, which was a rarity even for Council members. Surely each of these "pebbles" enhanced one side or another of the Force-user—she had heard of that even as a Youngling. Which directly stated that Dougan hadn't handed her the first weapon that came to hand. Instead, he had surely made it in advance and kept it to hand over at the right moment.
But if he said her expulsion was an accidental side effect, then whom was he making these sabers for if she was supposed to remain in the Order? The girl directed the Force into the blades and received a pleasant response from the crystals. No, the weapons were certainly being assembled for her. Does it turn out he had long intended to win her over to his side?
Nothing but riddles, and no answers.
Grimacing from the stinging wounds on her back, she caught herself with sadness on the thought that even under the threat of death, Greedo had not missed his chance to manifest a foul nature. Had the war not developed a self-defense instinct in her, she would surely have perished—if not from the detonators, then from the blaster for certain.
And this after she had shown him compassion?!
Or was it weakness? The fact that she couldn't do what was needed when it was needed. To liquidate the danger to avoid it in the future.
Was it all really true? Even Atroxa had put the former captive to sleep so she wouldn't be able to remember the ship on which she would be returned home. Prudent.
Sighing, the girl called the Force to her aid to dull the pain. Henceforth she should be circumspect. Or else, stop acting like a teenager and use at least cloth armor. Another mistake of the past—sacrificing protection for the sake of maneuverability. And look how it all ended!
Ahsoka, having covered a considerable distance, returned to the ship's landing pad. Her body ached and throbbed, the wounds bled and caused an enormous amount of pain. Casting a glance at Atroxa's solitary figure, waiting boredly near the ship's boarding ramp, Ahsoka only nodded her head in silence.
No. She would not hand them over to the Council and the Republic.
She would give them a chance to fix the galaxy, allow them to break the vicious cycle of the Sith-Jedi conflict. And she would try to avoid a fate in which she would be packed into a body bag.
***
"Are these figures real?" Tearing her eyes away from reading the report, Aayla looked at the Duros sitting before her over the datapad. "Too optimistic to be true."
"General," lounging valially in the chair, Rivas Nuodo seemed the very picture of nonchalance. At a first meeting, you wouldn't say he is the head of a private military company. "If I tell you we have prepared three million recruits, then so it is. You can count them by the head if you like."
"I'll trust the paper," the Twi'lek huffed. "Nonetheless, you are worth your money."
"Well, naturally," the Duros huffed. "So don't worry, all the arriving ships will be manned with crews."
"As if there were anything to worry about," Aayla said, delving into the reading again.
Only a week had passed since she had taken command of the Tenth Systemic Army. Temporarily, of course, while Dougan is on leave.
Master Dougan, she corrected herself. One should not forget who she is in the hierarchy of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul.
Five hundred Marauders and an equal number of Hammerheads that had arrived the day before had literally saved the day. The hundred and a half starships remaining after the merger of three sectoral armies were far too small a number to even hold the territories that remained under Republic control.
With ground units, the situation was even worse. Having consolidated the existing legions and regiments, the dry remainder was only four clone corps and two volunteer corps. The first was led by Matthew Mantrell, who had replaced the commander killed during the skirmish at Nexus Ortai. A native Christophsian, a man with a somber appearance. During Trench's last attack, he had lost his entire family, who died under the bombs of Vultures. Since then his unit, along with the clones, had fought in the front ranks, leaving behind a minimum of casualties and a maximum of scrap metal.
Deezy Azmo, the Rodian who headed the Second Volunteer Corps of Christophsis—entirely composed of his kin, natives of the same planet—differed little from his human colleague in the desire to destroy as many droids as possible. Rodians made up the second largest nation on Christophsis. Considering their natural hunting instincts (not for nothing was it Rodians who stood behind the creation of the GenoHaradan bounty hunter organization, the first of its kind in the galaxy), it was no wonder that like a deadly whirlwind they, specializing in landing operations, went in the vanguard of most attacks.
Fifty-four new corps of Christophsian volunteer line infantry, having only recently finished heavy training under the guidance of the Nuodo Private Military Company, were currently undergoing final preparations before being transferred to new bases. Armed with Republic weapons, trained to fight with Republic equipment in service with the GAR, this was an enormous army capable of crushing any CIS resistance in the shortest possible time.
Or Republic resistance, Aayla reminded herself.
The Master's idea was simple to the extreme.
The "hit and run" tactics adhered to by both sides of the conflict were currently receding into the past. Both the Republic and the CIS, after bloody battles on Ryloth and Geonosis, had concluded that controlled planets must have their own military bases. The newly-minted Grand Moff had adopted this concept before anyone else. That is why, by the end of the first year of war, fortified outposts had already been created on most planets, where in the near future clone personnel would be replaced by Christophsian volunteers.
"So I understand you won't refuse the next training orders?" Aayla inquired.
Despite reinforcements having already arrived from Kamino on two dozen Acclamators—hastily ordered from Rothana Heavy Engineering—even eight fresh, full-strength corps were clearly insufficient for full-scale combat operations.
The Master required that it be clones who formed the core of the army's strike force. Twelve line infantry corps, all without exception consisting of clones of the Mandalorian mercenary Jango Fett—that is a weighty force.
The 327th Star Corps, which remained her personal strike unit under Bly's command, was currently finishing medical processing in the Christophsian medical center. Subsequently, when the Master returns, Aayla—as befits a Jedi General—will set off to do good and establish democracy on the planets in her zone of responsibility. Rear Admiral Kreeves, who—like most of the newly-minted officers appointed to the newly formed strike squadrons—was currently finishing the manning of his unit. As before, despite the entry into the army of two hundred Venators and Acclamators, he remained on the bridge of his Victorious. And in the future, they were to work as one team.
The 156th Assault Corps, led by clone Marshal Commander Ventor, as well as the strike squadron Mace of Rear Admiral Demetrus Zaarin, was by the Master's order led by Siri Tachi. Another find. Modest in appearance, the girl had been able to surprise even the passion-experienced Secura. After Rick had opened up to them, initiating them into the subtleties of his Plan during the flight from Kamino to Christophsis, Obi-Wan Kenobi's former lover had accepted her new status—as a subordinate of the Eternal Emperor—without much joy. But at the same time, she had submissively followed orders and was now, together with her people, preparing for an attack on one of the planets bordering Hutt Space. If she is just as rapid and turns to her emotions as she did in the captain's cabin of the Defender after the Emperor's explanations, the CIS will not even have time to launch its new secret clone production factory.
Sometimes Aayla wondered what had happened to them, that loyal to duty and the oath of allegiance to the Republic, they both joined a Jedi who spoke directly that all dogmas and beliefs of the Order and the state would have to be left in the past. Not to say she regretted it—finally she had been able to get what she wanted.
A broken heart and seething passions had received their food. Yes, most likely he had done something to their minds while both girls were recovering in bacta tanks on Kamino. Otherwise it's difficult to explain the ease of accepting such a decision.
But she was happy. Yes, let her be one of many women sharing his bed—the Master didn't hide it. Among Twi'leks such relationships were considered the norm, and demanding the imperial body for oneself personally was at least stupid.
The 63rd Assault Corps, led by a clone with the extremely strange name LeshKa, as well as the strike squadron Spear under Rear Admiral Makati, had received its general in the person of Serra Keto and was currently undergoing manning. Assembled from the remnants of the ground forces of the 14th Sectoral, this unit was now stationed on Ryloth—until the Grand Moff settles the arising friction with the locals. Master Windu had promised to withdraw troops as soon as the planet was retaken from the CIS. But given that most of the oversector was currently controlled by Separatists, to do so was, to put it mildly, unwise.
The 89th Corps of Marshal Commander Zorga, as well as the hastily manned strike squadron Shield of Rear Admiral Oswald Teshik, were now conducting sluggish battles on Geonosis, continuing to pacify the defiant locals who were constantly trying to pull some dirty trick. General Soara Antana, who had suffered a severe wound during the second invasion of the planet, although she controlled the situation in a "stable but heavy" stage, in Aayla's opinion still needed help. This was partly due to the fact that despite a severe concussion, the Jedi had returned to the planet after spending only a few hours in the medblock aboard a Republic medical ship.
It was for this reason that the 217th Corps—battle-hardened in the territory of the 15th Sectoral Army and led by Marshal Commander Riviriv—was currently loading onto Acclamators to speed up the operation to force the Geonosians to peace, under the protection of Commodore Zinj and his Marauders from the Arrow-1 detachment under Sia-Lan Wezz, who had recovered from a severe wound. The Master particularly emphasized the importance and danger of this peace, ordering that it not be compared with the ground, and where possible to take measures to preserve the droid production factories discovered from time to time. And while Secura could not be certain of Antana, Sia-Lan Wezz had survived her wound only thanks to the Master. Surely he had pulled the same trick with her as with the Twi'lek herself.
It was much more problematic to decide which of the Jedi arriving in the army to entrust with the command of the new corps. Hastily trained clones who hadn't smelled tibanna might easily pay a huge price for their first military experience.
The 305th Assault Corps under Marshal Commander Mifispi, together with the squadron Stiletto of Rear Admiral Tigellinus, taking Jedi Knights Kento Marek and Roan Shryne along, had already departed for Esseles, whose mining industry the CIS had seized in the shortest possible time after the Battle of Geonosis. The battle promised to be hot, so Aayla ordered the Third Volunteer Corps of Christophsis under Spin Kotor, who had barely finished their training, to hastily move out after the 305th Corps. Stiletto 2 and Stiletto 3 of Commodores Sin and Granger were to cover the transports. Unlike the ground forces, in space near Esseles the CIS did not possess forces more powerful than two dozen Munificents under the command of tactical droids. The ground forces will also be joined by the newly arrived Jedi—Kai Justiss, Salmara, Sidem Forth, and his Togruta apprentice Deran Naluan.
The 77th Reconnaissance Corps, despite having barely arrived from Kamino, had experienced clones in its ranks—from among those who had undergone treatment on their home planet. The Dark Woman, falling like snow on the heads of Tatooine's residents, unceremoniously took these clones—sullen and unsociable with other clones—whose clone Marshal Commander Mickey, who had already managed to earn the nickname "Furious," was a veteran of the first Battle of Geonosis. Vice Admiral Pellaeon and his Hammer squadron, with support from the Arrow 4 and Arrow 5 detachments, will deliver these boys to Dom-Bradden, where the Separatists have placed a full-scale base under the protection of a strong fleet. The planet did not represent any particular interest in terms of resources or anything else. But the fact remains—this world was currently at the tip of the breakthrough of a unified front. If the CIS manages to hold this bridgehead, they will be able to roam through the Tenth Sectoral's rears. The battle was expected to be extremely difficult—no wonder the Jedi Tholme, T'ra Saa, and Mo, whom the Council had sent to them among others, headed straight from Coruscant to the rendezvous point.
Reinforcements...
With them, too, everything is not so simple. Despite a truly enormous area of responsibility, the Council had allocated only three dozen Jedi as reinforcements. Along with skilled fighters or Jedi aces, those who had only an indirect relation to war were also to arrive in the army.
The Master had ordered that until his return, all reinforcements be directed either to the front line or to secondary bases, which were now the former centers of sectoral armies—Ord Pardron, Ryloth, and Keymet, which were planned to be turned into fortified outposts, nodal parts of defense in the sectors. And while with the first and last planets no problems arose, the residents of Ryloth categorically objected to the presence of Republic troops, bases, and equipment on their world. But the Emperor had promised to deal with all that.
Exactly how, Aayla did not imagine. Perhaps as on Christophsis. For it was not for nothing that the entire population in a single impulse adored the man, erecting in the center of the capital—on the site of the government quarter where Dougan's troops had been during the defense—a huge Citadel, one glance at the blueprints of which was enough to understand: this was clearly not a Christophsian idea.
"One would have to be an idiot to refuse," the Rodian huffed. "Elder Eisel spoke of twenty to thirty million recruits. And that is simply an indecent sum."
"Praise the Force, it's not us paying it," Aayla sighed.
Where the locals got such enormous money, with which they finance the construction of the fleet for the Master, train the army, build space stations and repair docks in their system, was unknown to her. The Master did not wish to tell her about it. That means it is necessary.
"In that case, you had better return to your people," she said. "And supervise the selection of recruits."
"As you command, General," Nuodo said, jokingly saluting as he left her office.
The Twi'lek, seeing that he had vanished behind the door, tiredly leaned back against the chair.
Soon this base on Ord Pardron will lose its primary importance. Yes, the entire infrastructure and a full-scale garrison of five volunteer corps of Christophsis will remain here—they have already arrived and are settling in the barracks. Но как только Цитадель на Кристофсисе будет готова – все командование системной армией переместится туда.
For now, she has to finish processing the information prepared for her by the army staff.
The larger the structure in an army, the wider its staff is bloated. It was that way everywhere in the Republic. But not in "Gent." The staff of the Tenth Systemic Army was headed by General Jin. The elderly man not only had a reputation as a brilliant strategist and tactician but also never ceased to confirm his famous name. Working together with recently arrived Jan Dodonna and Adar Tallon—geniuses of space tactics and strategy—he had achieved the transfer under his wing of Colonel Gentis, who had only recently moved to staff work after an unequal, bloody slaughter of his clone unit against the most ruthless CIS mercenary detachment, the "Searing Embers." Another acquisition of the staff was Major Rom Mohc, a superb officer and engineer who built a strategy for counteracting CIS forces based on the design weaknesses of enemy soldiers. Mara Cross was an operations officer who had previously been on the staff of the Hammer squadron. Despite her young age, the girl oriented herself perfectly in the operational situation on the front, what's called "keeping her finger on the pulse," and therefore any staff reports prepared by her were accurate and clear after the first reading. Shadday Potkin, despite being a Jedi and who ideally should have headed a combat unit, had nearly left the Order due to a psychological trauma she had endured. However, after a long private conversation with the Master, she changed her mind, moving to staff work and heading the threat assessment department.
However, the jewel of the staff was the special operations unit formed literally yesterday. And all the more interesting were the sentients who belonged to it.
The new department was headed by former Mandalorian mercenary Kal Skirata. The elderly man, despite having previously been engaged in training clones for the Grand Army of the Republic and having collaborated with the Special Operations Brigade for the last year, had for some reason easily changed his place of service. And he had brought his volatile brood with him.
The elite Republic commandos of the Null-class. Those whom the Kaminoans considered defective and were going to dispose of. They did this not because the children turned out to be monsters or were drooling in formation, giggling stupidly. The Kaminoans modified the donor's genes, creating "Nulls." And they, in turn, turned out to be very... specific. They listened only to Skirata, and carried out only his orders. Rumors had it that when the Nulls were going to be frozen after the Battle of Geonosis a year ago, they seized the barracks and held them against the entire security service until they were met halfway, returning Skirata to the army and putting him in command.
Aayla had already had a not entirely pleasant conversation with General Zey, the former commander of the commandos. He, having lost his best operatives, was somewhat disappointed. But when he learned that in exchange for those six, Secura would transfer to him two full-scale groups of commandos—the last to be prepared on Kamino—his dissatisfaction vanished immediately. The Jedi even ignored the fact that some of them had severe mutilations, replaced with cybernetic prostheses. He was glad to have received at least something in exchange for the loss of such a valuable resource.
The Twi'lek perfectly understood Zey's joy—the Nulls always did only what they wanted or what Skirata ordered. And if they didn't like an order, they could ignore it. It was another matter with the obedient commandos from the Alpha generation. Of course, no one told Zey that every clone from those detachments serves the Grand Army only for appearance. When the time comes, they will make their moves.
The "Decree on Sector Governance" invested Dougan, and also Secura who was replacing him, with very broad rights. And while previously commando tasks were set only on Coruscant, now each of the Grand Moffs could afford to have their own clone commando units, requesting their transfer from the Special Operations Brigade. It must be admitted, the Master succeeded in this.
Besides the Nulls, the special operations department was also reinforced with Jedi Knight Etain Tur-Mukan, Zey's own former Padawan. And together with her, several commando groups arrived at Ord Pardron.
Delta Squad.
Omega Squad.
Aiwha Squad.
Ion Team.
Vevut Squad.
Yayax Squad.
Considering that by Dougan's order two new detachments were also included in the new unit—Team Hurricane under Alpha's command, and the Tender May squad under Balda—this was a truly impressive force. Of course, the latter group still had to be manned—but that didn't take long.
Considering the reputation of each of the squads and their merits before the Republic, Aayla continued to be surprised at how widely her Master had cast his nets.
Several arriving Jedi also joined the "specs." Jon Antilles—former Padawan of the Dark Woman. Larant Tarak—a member of the Order's "Gray Paladins" group, who did not use lightsabers, preferring ordinary blaster weapons. Sian Jeisel—one of the few who had left the Order in protest against the start of the war. But she had returned, yielding to Master Windu's persuasion. Dass Jennir—a fine warrior but at the same time extremely uncommunicative.
It was these sentients who were to deliver surgical but immensely painful blows over a vast territory. However, they manifested no dissatisfaction with the tasks set.
Aayla returned to the list of Jedi reinforcements.
Running her eyes over it once more, she stopped opposite a familiar name.
Xiaan Amersu. A Rutian Twi'lek who had once helped her former lover, Quinlan Vos, regain a part of his memories. And a close friend of Secura herself. So close that Aayla knew perfectly well the feelings that manifested themselves from time to time between Xiaan and her secret lover—A'Sharad Hett, whose name was also present on the list. One should inform the Master that it is extremely dangerous to keep those two together. Hett is unstable by his aggressive nature—and a lack of control over him could negatively affect the future.
Checking with the datapad that each of the arriving Jedi had received an appointment, the Twi'lek allowed herself to relax a little.
Exactly three minutes later, Mara Cross informed her of arising problems.
***
"Ku!" Barely staying on her feet from the explosion of a heavy shell that shook the entire bridge, Rachi Sitra addressed her Jedi comrade once more. "If you don't hurry, we'll simply be swept away!"
"Rachi, I am certain the Valley is somewhere here! I need another half hour, an hour at most!" The hologram of Qu Rahn—a Jedi investigator like herself—flickered as a new stream of turbolaser charges passed over the Hammerhead's hull.
"Another half hour and it'll be Separatists taking you off the planet!" the girl said. Meeting her colleague's gaze, the young Jedi investigator smoothed the tip of her lekku, which was trembling with indignation, and opened a communication channel with the assault shuttle pilot. "Lodbrok!"
"I am on the line, General Sitra," the reconnaissance group commander answered.
"Cease your mission immediately and return to the Swift."
"As you command, General."
"Rachi, no! We can't," Qu Rahn protested. "I've tried for so long to get here!"
"Well then, you'll get here later," the Twi'lek snapped. "We weren't sent here to explore planets, but to find that cursed listening post!"
To be honest, Rachi still did not understand why she, a Jedi investigator, had been required at the front. Yes, she is a non-trivial researcher like Qu Rahn, and one of the best duelists in the Corps, but to fight? To command units?
Had it happened at the beginning of the war, she could have explained her unwillingness to the Council. And she likely would have remained in the Temple.
But now, with the Supreme Chancellor having integrated members of the Order into the military hierarchy of the Grand Army of the Republic, she could not refuse. Therefore, taking her simple belongings, she had set off for her place of service.
The assignment entrusted to her, Qu Rahn, Malorum, Master Simms, and her Padawan Noira Na seemed simple. To inspect a series of systems on the border of Hutt Space to discover a listening post for monitoring communications set up here by the Separatists. Republic intelligence had reported its existence after several convoys passing through Hutt Space were shot up by Separatist raiders as soon as they found themselves in Republic space. Of course, this could have been written off as a coincidence had such attacks not been repeated five times in different parts of the sector.
Considering that only convoy commanders and members of the Order knew the movement schedule and course, the question arose of its own accord: were the Separatists listening to Republic communication channels? And such a threat had to be dealt with as quickly as possible.
The checking of the Ruusan system fell to her and Qu Rahn. The Hammerhead—freshly launched from the shipyards under the command of Captain Voss Park—having taken aboard clone scouts from the 212th Reconnaissance Corps who had only recently arrived from Kamino led by their clone Marshal Commander Sinilian, set off for the coveted goal. The other Jedi also set about inspecting their own search zones.
A premonition of disaster visited Rachi as soon as they found themselves in the Ruusan system. A dozen reconnaissance shuttles and starfighters rose from the hangar decks to explore the planets and their moons one by one for the possible presence of Separatists in the system.
At first everything went as usual—the clones worked, scanning one heavenly body after another. Rachi had already thought it was not the system they needed, however her reflections were interrupted by two events at once.
First, the commander of the reconnaissance group sent to a moon of Ruusan, designated in the galactic atlas as Ruusan-2, came on the line. Ivan (accent on the first syllable) reported that CIS starfighters were hot on their heels. Considering that there hadn't been a whiff of clankers in the system, it turned out that in the thickness of this gaseous moon of the planet there was something valuable to the Separatists.
Qu Rahn, who had joined her on this mission, set off for the surface of Ruusan with the scouts to test his long-standing working theory.
A thousand years ago in this system, the Jedi and the Sith had clashed in a deadly battle for control of the galaxy. Ruusan endured as many as seven offensives, as a result of which the Sith were finally defeated—at least so it was believed until recently. History tells that after the deaths of hundreds of Jedi and Sith, in memory of their sacrifice, in the Valley where the last bloody battle of those times occurred, members of the Order and the grateful peoples of the Republic erected a monument to the fallen heroes. Unfortunately, time has been merciless toward the preservation of accurate information about the cultural heritage site.
As a result, no one in the Order knew exactly where this Valley of the Jedi was located. Even the information that it is on Ruusan was merely Rahn's own conjecture. Which he intended to verify.
Just before the scouts from Ruusan-2 returned, three Separatist Munificent-class frigates entered the system, setting a course to close with the lone Hammerhead.
And a space battle ensued.
Rachi thanked the creators of this beautiful ship, which calmly withstood the concentrated fire of three opponents at once, suffering minimal damage.
"The enemy is using a standard 'Triangle' formation," Captain Park informed her as soon as she was beside him at the cruiser's forward observation viewports. "See, two ships are positioned above one. This allows them to keep us under crossfire, while we are forced to concentrate our turbolasers on only one target to achieve an acceptable result. Ultimately, if General Qu Rahn does not return to the cruiser, I will have to command a retreat without him."
"I understand, Captain," the Twi'lek assured him. "No one wants to risk their new ship in the very first battle..."
"It's not about that," the officer shook his head. "The ship is only a tool. But the people on it are much more valuable."
"And here, perhaps, I will agree with you," the Twi'lek said.
The man, casting a disapproving glance at the silent general, sighed heavily.
"Hangar," leaning over the console, he activated the intercom. "Launch everything we have."
Casting another glance at the Jedi, Voss Park only shook his head and muttered quietly:
"Maybe at least the starfighters will buy us more time."
***
Throwing the Ether Sprite to the left, Garen evaded a burst from the droid fighters pursuing him. With rapid but at the same time carefully calibrated movements, he guided his starfighter between a cluster of asteroids to shake off his pursuers.
"Blue-Leader," came over the headset. "We don't see you."
"Everything is fine, Fakir," he reassured his wingman. "I have a few clankers on my tail, but that's fixable. Continue with the mission."
"Copy, sir," the clone replied.
Turning to the Living Force, Jedi ace Garen Muln immersed himself in it entirely, encompassing the entire battle scene with his mind.
Their detachment's task was framed quite simply—to conduct reconnaissance among the Vergesso Asteroids, where CIS forces had been spotted. Engaging in battle was not recommended until the enemy's strength in the region was clear. And given the recent breakthrough of the front, there could be a whole fleet in this sector, which even a strike squadron might not be able to handle.
However, Captain Sagoro Autem, who was now on the bridge of a Venator-class Star Destroyer, held a completely different opinion.
"General," after the briefing with Aayla Secura, the Captain had approached him with a proposal. "It seems to me that reconnaissance with a force of one destroyer and four Marauders is a far too wasteful affair, don't you find?"
"Such is the task set for us, Captain," Garen was surprised. "Reconnaissance, and nothing more."
"And what, having discovered a pair of Separatist frigates, we will retreat?" Autem continued to press his line. "Not take them apart for spares, taking advantage of the numerical edge?"
"You're not averse to a fight, Captain," the Jedi noted.
"The more of their ships and droids we send to the furnace, the faster this war will end," Sagoro noted coldly. "It always seemed to me that you Jedi want that most of all."
"You are quite right in your conviction," Muln confirmed. "And yes, we will turn any enemy target we can into scrap metal. All responsibility is on me."
At first everything went as usual. They emerged from hyperspace at the edge of the asteroid field, launched cover squadrons, and began scanning the space...
Fakir was the first to notice the enemy ships masking their presence behind enormous rock clusters. Twenty Munificent-class frigates surrounding a Lucrehulk. A truly unpleasant surprise.
And afterward, the Republicans learned that the enemy has "staging bases" in the asteroid field—hastily equipped landing pads for droid starfighters. Which activated as soon as the Republic pilots seeped through the defensive perimeter.
A struggle for survival began.
Their own ships could help them little—no one is going to thrust into a belt of space boulders the size of a good planet, risking being crushed every second. Therefore, the disorganized turbolaser fire that the Republic starships concentrated at the location of the CIS ships pursued a demonstrative rather than an effective goal.
A familiar machine with the Republic emblem flashed before his eyes.
"Turr!" the Jedi called the Red Squadron commander. "You have two on your tail!"
"Thanks, General!" a cheerful voice of the lieutenant sounded in the headset. "It won't be for long."
And in the next second, before the Jedi ace's eyes, Fennir's V-wing darted between two converging masses. Garen, with the help of the Living Force, felt that the pilot was fine—his spark of life was glowing. But the droids were smeared across the rock surface of the asteroids.
"Not bad, Lieutenant," the Jedi praised. "But risky."
"Not at all, sir!" Red-One objected. "These Nimbuses are just sweethearts. The Seps can never catch them. By the way, are you going to shake the Vultures off your tail?"
"Why?" Garen was surprised. "They're not bothering me."
"Really? I'd have thought the flashing laser salvos around your Sprite had started to annoy you."
"A tiny bit," having finally reached a space relatively free of rocks, Garen entered a descending, expanding spiral, forcing the pursuers to cease their coordinated attack. And as soon as he was sure that each of the fighters had decided to catch him in a certain part of the next turn, he sharply engaged the braking thrusters, causing his little ship to turn in the opposite direction, literally on a credit chip.
"And now for some fun," he said with a smile, catching the first Vulture in his sights.
***
"Captain Autem," a young officer opened a communication channel with the flagship. "Our starfighters are returning."
"Yes, we see it too, Lieutenant Nida. Prepare to get out of here as soon as we take all the starfighters on board."
"With all respect, sir, I wanted to propose another plan."
"To fight twenty Munificents that are coming at us?" the senior officer was surprised. "I'm not averse to a fight either, but they'll set their starfighters on us. The frigates are staying in the rear, and from such a distance our turbolasers will do little more than scratch their paint..."
"My plan is built around our corvettes' concussion missiles," Lorth noted. "Lieutenants Monty and Kane are already in a state of readiness."
"Wait a moment," over the holoterminal in the bridge of Lorth Neda's Marauder, a miniature figure of Captain Sagoro Autem appeared. "Did I understand you correctly? To pepper them with missiles when they emerge from the asteroid field? Like they pulled off at Bothawui?"
"Not exactly, sir," the youth admitted. "We will be destroying the asteroids."
"What?" Sagoro was taken aback.
"We don't have enough missiles to hold back their air wing," Neda explained. "But we can turn the asteroids in the path of the enemy starfighters into fragmentation ammunition. A missile explosion will turn any asteroid into thousands of small stones..."
"Which at the speed of a blaster shot will mince the clankers," Autem finished, stroking his chin. "Risky and bold, Lieutenant. Proceed."
"Yes, sir!" the young Marauder commander smiled with satisfaction.
To confess, he had never once regretted answering the proposal for transfer to the Tenth Systemic Army. Of course, living on Coruscant and sitting in an office, not risking one's skin, is certainly safer for one's health. But how can one be called an officer if you've been on a ship only about ten times, and in a real battle only three?
He liked the Marauder. Rapid, dangerous. A beautiful support ship, capable of taking apart any enemy ship up to a Star Destroyer in class alone. Well, and in the matter of covering the main forces from the persistent and ubiquitous small enemy aircraft—truly irreplaceable.
"Launch concussion missiles," the lieutenant commanded the bridge crew.
"Yes, sir," a dark-skinned man echoed.
A Christophsian, Lorth recalled. One of those who realized that the fate of the galaxy cannot be decided only by the hands of clones and Jedi. Survivors of the occupation and the brutal Separatist raid. Those who had survived the bitterness of losing loved ones and were gazing at the smoking ruins of their cities with tears in their eyes.
If previously Lorth, while serving on a Consular, had noted the clones' excellent training, knowledge, and skills that ordinary sentients didn't even come close to, now... No, these boys are earning their rations. Yes, they aren't all identical like clones, but they are dutiful and ruthless. For them, war is not a job for which they were created.
An obligation without which one must wash in blood if the Separatists gain the upper hand.
And Neda completely agreed with them. Just like the commanders of the other Marauders—Conan Antonio Motti, Ardus Kaine, and that unsmiling big man, Barrow Oikunn. Lorth recalled that the latter was one of the few survivors after General Grievous's orbital bombardment of his home planet. They had served together for a time on Coruscant—as had Motti and Kaine. And then Grand Moff Dougan had offered them to step onto the bridges of their own ships.
Should an honest officer refuse such a proposal? Never in their life.
And meanwhile, leaving jet trails behind them, dozens of concussion missiles from the board of each corvette sped toward the stone giants, among which the first groups of Vultures were already appearing.
Literally in the next instant, the edge of the asteroid belt turned into a hell of fire, ash, and deadly debris.
Half an hour later, having destroyed several hundred space boulders and thousands of droid fighters, Captain Autem's detachment, having discharged the remains of the concussion missiles at the enemy's leading frigates and achieved numerous hits, retreated to base. They should return here with larger forces and clear the strategically important area of Separatist filth.
***
"You needn't thank me, Senator," the door to the lounge where Rush Clovis was drinking alone opened, letting in the familiar figure of the Jedi. "Neither for saving your life nor for help in uncovering the embezzlement."
"And nonetheless, I am in your debt," the banker said quietly. "If you hadn't come to our aid..."
"Do you truly think the mercenary intended to kill you?" the Jedi chuckled, settling on the sofa opposite.
"It seems to me his weapon spoke for itself," Clovis said with a lack of understanding. "First the murder of Padmé's handmaid, then an attempt on her herself, finally an attack on my residence..."
"What if I tell you that all this is a carefully staged play?" the Jedi asked unexpectedly.
"Nonsense!" Rush waved his hands. "Who needs such sophisticated methods of provocation?"
"Count Dooku," the Jedi shrugged. Reaching for the table on which a started bottle of Corellian whiskey stood, he filled a clean glass and leaned back on the sofa again. "Think for yourself."
"If there is logic in this, it escapes me," Clovis admitted. "However, one can assume that the Count does not want me and Padmé to report to the Senate on the Banking Clan's machinations. For then it will become known that the Confederacy has not paid a single percent on the loans..."
"Fundamentally incorrect," the Jedi waved a hand. Leaning forward, he removed his face mask and laid it on the table. Returning to his initial position, the man still hid his face thanks to the shadows that fell on it from the hood he wore. "Will there be any more attempts?"
"Perhaps you, Master Jedi, will then enlighten me?" the banker squinted, as such a comedy was already starting to bore him.
"With pleasure," the other huffed, sipping the drink. Then, with a deft movement, he tossed a tiny information chip into the banker's hands. "Here is full information on the accounts to which the Republic's money was siphoned. With their help, you will easily prove in the Senate that the clan leadership is profiting from embezzlement. Granted, the money isn't there anymore—the leadership either cashed it out or transferred those funds to others. One way or another, two annual budgets of the Republic are already gone. However, when all this comes to light, I think the Muuns will make up the shortfall so as not to undermine the Banking Clan's authority even further."
"Where did you get this?" the banker inquired with doubt.
"You gave the Senator one chip, I gave another," the man shrugged. "Ultimately we are all doing the same business."
"I am not sure of that," Clovis weighed the chip in his hand, as if wondering whether to accept the Jedi's help. "For what reason are you helping me?"
"Now here it's simple," the Jedi sipped the drink. "You are an idealist who wants to return transparency and efficiency to the Banking Clan. It seems to me that by providing these proofs, you will be able to persuade the Senate to put you at the head of the Banking Clan."
"Yes, that is exactly what I planned," Clovis admitted. "But I do not think I will be supported."
"You will be," the Jedi stated confidently. "Among my acquaintances are influential senators whose voices others will listen to."
"Is Padmé Amidala among them?" Clovis asked with a touch of jealousy.
"Senator Amidala is a thing in herself," Dougan said mistily. "But it seems to me she will support you. In memory of the past."
Clovis felt a rush of adrenaline, hearing the tone in which the Jedi said that.
"Listen," he rose from his place. "I won't allow..."
"No, you listen," the Jedi said with a threat in his voice. Rush felt goosebumps run under his clothes. Never in his life had he been so afraid of what was happening. Yes, he had heard of the mythical Force and the superhuman abilities of the Jedi—and had even personally seen it on Scipio. Но никогда не думал, что это происходит именно так…
"You are only a pawn in someone else's hands, Clovis." Feeling his legs go weak, the banker sat down, unable to tear his eyes away from contemplating the blackness under the Jedi's hood. "Your idealism is being used to try to ruin the Republic. Ultimately this will be the cause of a breakdown in trust toward you from the Senate, the Republic, and the Padmé Amidala you adore." The Jedi stood up. Like a black shadow, he walked to the door and locked it from the inside.
"Now no one will disturb us, Clovis." The banker found the strength to cast a glance at the Jedi. And to his horror, he noticed how two blazing eyes the color of molten aurodium were looking at him from the blackness of the hood.
"W-w-who are you," he asked with a thick tongue. "What do you want from me?"
"I am he in whose hands your fate lies, Clovis." It seemed the man spoke with the voices of thousands of people. This cacophony of sounds hammered at his ears, causing incredible pain. "Serve me, Clovis! I will make you head of the Banking Clan, help you restore order to it and reestablish the work of that system as its creators intended."
"Th-that is everything I want," the banker said.
"Everything?" the Jedi asked mockingly. "And what about Senator Amidala?"
"I... I do not even dare to hope."
"Serve me, Clovis, and get everything you need," the man said with emphasis.
The vibrations emanating from the Jedi literally tore fragments of his life from his memory, folding them into an ugly picture of what was happening. Yes, he is right. Clovis is an idealist and strives for the fulfillment of his dream—to make the banks the only true regulator in the galaxy. And now his life's work can be realized. This terrible man can give him what he desires. What he needs. But, gods, how hard it is to concentrate...
"You only have to agree and the pain will pass, Clovis," as if reading his thoughts, the man spoke. Or perhaps he truly did read them?!
It's meaningless to resist such a powerful being.
"I... I agree, my Master! What must I do?"
"You have made a wise choice, Clovis," Dougan praised him. And, a miracle—the pain splitting his head into pieces passed. "Immediately after your victory in the Senate, secure Padmé Amidala's support in working with bank accounts. Do not show her the chip I gave you. And," he did not see the man's face, but felt that he was smiling, "don't be afraid to put yourself under her husband's fists."
"She... is married?" Rush felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. How so? When did that happen?
"It is of no significance," the Jedi snapped. "Stick to my plan, and that marriage will not last long."
Rush felt a puppy-like delight that already now his new ally was ready to help him in a vital romantic struggle.
The former senator slid from the sofa to the floor, getting on one knee before the black figure.
"I will carry out all your instructions exactly, my Master."