"You have disappointed me, Baron," the leader of the Confederacy said in a formal tone. "The failure of such a successful operation as the attack on Tipoca City..."
Nax flinched, as if the separatist leader had struck him in the face.
"My lord, I would have been able to complete the mission, but I was hindered..."
"You had a Zabrak to handle Jedi problems," the Count reminded him. "And you failed."
"I was opposed by a very powerful Jedi!" the Baron offered another argument.
"I know this, Baron," Dooku said tiredly. "That is precisely why you and Savage Opress participated in the operation. The latter is at the bottom of the Kaminoan ocean, while Grievous fulfilled his part of the task... You are the only one with whom I have grievances."
"Give me another chance, Master!" Kirwan addressed him fervently. "I... I will find and kill him! Yes, he is strong, but I am stronger. The Dark Side gives me everything I need..."
"That is so, Baron," Dooku smirked, completing a circuit around the fallen Jedi secured in a power, anti-Jedi trap. Having ensured that the restraints on the arms and legs held their prisoner more firmly than the manipulators of the MagnaGuards present there were capable of, the Count signaled to his bodyguards that they could continue.
"Dooku!" the Baron shouted, seeing the former Jedi leaving the cell while two MagnaGuards approached, preparing their electrostaffs. "Don't you dare! I am on your side..."
"I regret it, my friend," the elderly Sith cast a parting glance at him. "But you place too much importance on words. When my servants are finished with you, you will fully learn what it means to disappoint me."
***
"I regret it, Senator Chuchi," the Chancellor said, fixing a sympathetic expression on his face. "But the actions of the Trade Federation..."
And so it had been every day for the past eleven years.
From hour to hour, he had to listen to these eternally whining senators, so greedy and occupied with lining their pockets instead of solving truly worthwhile problems. However, if the Senate were even half as effective as it was now, the collapse of the galaxy would have been postponed for decades.
Instead, he had to do everything himself. No, even while conducting an internal monologue with himself, Sidious could not say he was tired of political intrigue. No. They were the source of his inspiration. Performances in human life, so real that at times one actually believed in their sincerity.
Well, for example, Senator Riyo Chuchi.
A twenty-five-year-old representative of the fair sex from the planet Pantora, located in the Outer Rim, in the Sujimis sector. An idealist to the bone. But she could be forgiven—she had been in the Senate only a short time and naively believed she could change something in this state machine bogged down in impenetrable bureaucracy.
She communicated quite closely with Senator Amidala, who exerted influence over a large part of the decisions made by the Pantoran. Thus now, having failed to obtain from the Senate a decision so necessary for Pantora, she had come to beg for it from the Chancellor.
"My dear, if I could," Palpatine raised his hands to the sky in false modesty. "I would certainly send the army to lift the Trade Federation's blockade of your world. But, unfortunately, the Senate still believes the words of the senator from the Federation that the reason for the blockade is your debt in payment. I dare to remind you that in such a case, the Neimoidians' actions are perfectly legal."
"But everything is repeating itself!" the girl cried out. "The blockade of Naboo unfolded according to the same scenario!"
"You are exaggerating," he protested. Though he knew perfectly well that everything stood exactly so.
The Pantoran had seriously hindered him during the first attempt to pass the "Sector Governance Decree." Together with Amidala, Organa, and Mothma, they had decisively managed to have the bill returned for revision. Well, it turned out far better—it was possible to pass the revised bill in the very first reading. While its main opponents were occupied with their own affairs.
Chuchi was listening to the tearful revelations of Chairman Papanoida about how the planet, which owed the Trade Federation several hundred million credits for the supply of essential items, was on the brink of famine. Dissatisfied citizens demanded decisive measures from the government—up to and including lifting the blockade by joining the Confederacy. Ironically in this situation, it was the Assembly that gave Papanoida his powers that had stolen all the funds that were supposed to go toward purchasing essential items.
Conveniently, the ships of the 15th Sector Army had to be sent to support the troops of the neighboring 18th and 19th, liquidating massive breakthroughs of CIS forces. And directing any ship larger than a corvette to the planet was extremely problematic, considering the blockade was carried out by the forces of a Lucrehulk-class ship.
So now, the blockade would last as long as necessary to squeeze Pantora out of the Republic.
In politics, little could surprise Palpatine. But Pantora was a thing unto itself. Strategically, the planet had little to offer the Republic—the region was subsidized, so it was no wonder they had nothing to pay the Trade Federation with. But strangely, the Pantorans held significant weight in the Senate, even without their political allies.
Despite his attempts, Palpatine had been unable to remove Senator Amidala from the political struggle. Inducting the former Queen of Naboo into the Senatorial Loyalist Committee slightly weakened her influence on other senators. The crises Palpatine orchestrated on her home planet, such as the creation of a secret separatist laboratory or luring Gungans to the CIS side, also met with little success. Even Anakin's jealousy, which intensified after Amidala's mission during which she encountered her former lover, Rush Clovis, did not knock her off the set course of resisting Palpatine's intrigues.
Palpatine felt no anger or irritation over the failures, perceiving them as another game of Dejarik in which he would certainly win.
Ever since Captain Panaka had informed him of Skywalker and Amidala's secret wedding, he had used the situation for his own ends. The boy was still too young and subject to emotions, which inevitably eroded the Jedi dogmas in his head. Love for the senator and the accompanying feelings and anxieties—that was what would ultimately lead him to the Dark Side. Being the only true friend of the young Jedi Knight, the Chancellor always listened to his anxieties, sharing advice—including cautiously hinting at a harsher attitude toward his beloved. Fostering a drive for total control in the boy, Palpatine could say with confidence that he had not only destabilized the atmosphere in Amidala's house, forcing Anakin to increasingly demand more attention from her, but also planted an attachment to his own wisdom in his future apprentice's head. One day, when he had to choose, he would inevitably stand on the side of the one who had never sought to limit his abilities. On the side of a kind friend—Chancellor Palpatine.
Sheev smiled stealthily, pulling himself away from his thoughts.
Ah yes, Senator Chuchi... It turned out she was still saying something while he was occupied with far more important thoughts.
"My dear," he began with routine politeness. "For all my love for you and Pantora, I cannot and do not have the right to compel the Trade Federation to lift the blockade. I am sorry."
"I understand," the girl looked extremely dejected. "Perhaps I will manage to change the Senate's opinion at tomorrow's address. Chairman Papanoida arrives tomorrow morning to personally make a statement."
"I will only be glad of that," the Chancellor lied, gallantly rising from his seat to escort the girl to the door.
Naive young fool. Who will allow you? Especially since Count Dooku will soon make his move. Papanoida, with his extensive connections, is needed by the Confederacy. His spies can give a run for their money both to the Republic's intelligence as a whole and the Bothan network in particular. A perfect gift for the Confederacy after the "failure" on Kamino.
"Perhaps the Senate will change its decision if you express your disagreement with the Trade Federation's actions," the exotic woman suddenly suggested.
"I cannot do that, Senator Chuchi," Sidious said with slight irritation. "As the head of the Republic, I simply cannot allow myself to take a side in an internal conflict."
The door leading from the Chancellor's office opened, breathing a cacophony of voices from the corridor onto Palpatine. The Senate, even during a break, was an eternally arguing, restless hive. With what joy he would dissolve them all, but then how to manage the sectors? The time to replace senators with moffs and governors had not yet come—even despite emergency powers, Palpatine preferred to tighten the screws gradually. One must not arouse suspicion—it is enough that dissatisfaction with his interference is already arising among the Jedi.
"But our planet is in danger!" Chuchi exclaimed. Such a persistent one!
"Chancellor," turning his head, Palpatine allowed himself to smile. Here was a way to interrupt the tiresome conversation.
"Grand Moff Dougan," another toy in his hands. An ambitious Jedi who would restore order for him in the Outer Rim. However, he was another tool the Chancellor would use to good effect. "Glad to see you."
"As am I," the figure in a black cape over armor bowed respectfully. "Senator Chuchi."
"General," the girl cast a final glance at the Chancellor. But this time, she perfectly understood the conversation was over. "And still I hope for your help."
"I will do all I can," Palpatine promised vaguely, as always in such matters, immediately discarding the situation with Pantora from his head. "I was expecting you, my friend. Let us go into the office."
The Jedi lingered for a moment, looking toward the departing senator. Palpatine, taking advantage of the fact that the man could not see his face, gave a satisfied chuckle. Yes, by galactic standards, Chuchi was young and attractive. But she was not human—even if her race was related to humans. However, Palpatine had clear plans for those destined for the fate of servants in his future Empire. An empire of man.
"It seems there are problems on Pantora," the Jedi voiced his thoughts, sitting in one of the four visitor chairs. Palpatine, settling on the other side of his desk, mentally applauded his own thoughts. Isard had reported that the young Jedi had a penchant for non-human females. A small violation of the Code that many members of the Order were guilty of. It was worth considering how this could be used in the future.
"The planet owes the Trade Federation a tidy sum," Palpatine replied simply. "And they are trying to solve their problems through the Republic's interference. A futile attempt to portray internal problems as separatist expansion."
"Indeed," a chuckle came from under the Jedi's mask. "An interesting way to solve one's own problems."
"To my deepest regret," Palpatine put on a sad face, "such things are encountered not so rarely. But your attention should not be occupied with such incidents of my work. Allow me to congratulate you on your promotion and induction into the High Council of the Jedi Order."
"I humbly thank you, Supreme Chancellor," the Jedi replied. "I am flattered by such a high honor bestowed upon me. However, the Masters turned out to be not too pleased with your interference in the internal affairs of the Order."
Palpatine smiled, catching the irony. Internal affairs, indeed.
"As regrettable as it is to say," the Nabooan spread his hands. "But the Council and I far too often diverge in opinion on many issues. And in such a situation, I more than ever need people loyal to the Republic's cause in an organization that for millennia has enjoyed privileges in exchange for protecting our state."
"Yes, unfortunately many Jedi have forgotten that their ancestors swore to maintain peace in the galaxy when the Order was allowed to settle on Coruscant," to be honest, Palpatine was not surprised to hear the provisions of one of the oldest treaties from the young Jedi. It was difficult to remember in the general mass that among the Jedi, besides Anakin, there was anyone else worthy of attention. "However, I am not among them."
"Believe me, this does not go unnoticed on my part," Palpatine smiled. "You handled yourself excellently in the post of Moff of the 13th Sector Army. Considering the total chaos reigning on the Outer Rim, in the context of our conversation at the Opera, I thought you would not refuse to help the Republic by bringing peace to an even larger territory. Especially after conversations with a representative of the Hutt Council, who practically demanded that I include their territories in one, rather than four sector armies, since relationships with representatives of three of them are not the most professional. Yielding to criminals is not in my rules, but the Republic's position, between us, is precarious. We cannot allow the Hutts to join Count Dooku. Of course, you can refuse..."
Palpatine pronounced the last phrase in such a tone that the interlocutor would feel guilty if he suddenly thought of refusing. Jedi, though sensitive to the Force, remain the same sentients. Manipulating whose minds is the direct duty of the Sith.
"I am flattered by the honor shown me," Dougan said. "And I cannot even imagine how many problems your Excellency might have after this. So, in no case will I put you in an awkward position by going against your will."
"Wonderful," Palpatine smiled at his thoughts. "Eliminate the threats on the Outer Rim, bring tranquility to these territories. And spend all your resources, all your ships, all your supporters on this, so that the New Order does not encounter a group capable of mounting a challenge."
Dougan's appointment as Grand Moff pursued several goals at once. First, with his help, Palpatine intended to eliminate the dissatisfaction with the Republic that existed on the Outer Rim. To curb the aliens, showing them that the Chancellor cared about their problems and suffering. Second, to get rid of the potential danger in the form of the fleet being built at Rendili by order of Christophsis, which would inevitably be handed over to Dougan. Third, Jabba himself had placed a weapon in Palpatine's hands with his demands to change the borders of the 13th Sector. Now, Dougan's troops could keep the entire territory of Hutt Space under control—when the time came, this army would prove indispensable in destroying criminal cartels and seizing these slugs' planets. Fourth, to goad Anakin's painful ego, who rightfully considered himself the most gifted Jedi and a talented commander. In fact, compared to other Jedi, Anakin did possess extraordinary abilities in these areas. However, his egocentrism had to be curbed by teaching him several extremely painful lessons. After which—to extend a friendly hand to him, come to his aid, offering a shoulder and giving a few pieces of advice, so the young Jedi would continue to eat out of his hand.
"Tell me of your strengths, and I will know how to disable them; tell me of your greatest fear, and I will force you to face it; tell me what you value most, and I will understand what you can be deprived of; tell me what you passionately desire, and I will deny it to you."
So his teacher, Darth Plagueis, had told him, teaching the young Palpatine the intricacies of the Force. And it could not be said he was not right in some way.
"I heard that Aayla Secura is replacing you during your leave," the Chancellor recalled.
"That is so. She is a capable Jedi, and I think she will manage while I am on leave," the Jedi said. "However, even on leave I continue to keep my finger on the pulse. Моя ученица сейчас проводит закупки для нужд армии."
"That is a great responsibility," the Chancellor noted. "Is your Padawan really so well-versed that she can independently figure out what the clones need?"
"Of course not," the Jedi laughed quietly. "I prepared the requisitions long ago—she only needs to run each of them through the managers. Even a droid could handle that."
"Ah, in that case, I am at ease," Sidious smiled. Unfortunately, despite the Grand Moffs' direct subordination to the Chancellor, Dougan still remained a member of the Council, which seemed to have decided not to repeat the same mistakes as with Master Billaba, who had fallen into a coma after heavy fighting. And it had taken a wait-and-see position, allowing Dougan's psyche to calm down after a year of continuous fighting. Of course, it was more advantageous for Palpatine that the Jedi immediately begin his duties and restore order on the Outer Rim as quickly as possible. Но и заставить его тоже не мог – даже как моффу ему был положен отпуск. One must not allow such a cadre to "burn out" without fulfilling the tasks assigned to him.
"I understand that I am placing an impossible task on your shoulders—holding three supersectors at once," Palpatine said sympathetically. "But there are so few Jedi in the Order who can be entrusted with such a thing. Especially from among those whom I can trust fully."
"I am not questioning your will, but what about Skywalker?" Palpatine was somewhat surprised by the question. As far as he had been informed, there was a kind of feud between Dougan and Anakin—the Chancellor had felt it at the Opera, and spies had reliably reported details. Every meeting, every conversation between the two turned into a verbal duel. And Anakin himself often spoke of the "overbearing" Jedi whom Yoda favored for some unknown reason.
But the General seemed to be treading on very thin ice.
Many in the Council did not like that the greatest Jedi in the Order's history had become close to a politician. Perhaps they had even enlisted Dougan's support to find out more than they themselves knew. A cunning move.
"Anakin is my friend," the Chancellor admitted. "I have known him since childhood. But many might perceive such an appointment as an abuse of my power toward my acquaintances. And the fight against corruption—in any of its forms—is my primary duty. And, to be honest, I hope this remains between us, Anakin is not as wise as you to take such a responsibility on his shoulders."
The Chancellor looked at the Jedi with a tired expression, tracking his reaction. Of course, if the man were without a mask, much more would be clear from the expression on his face. But he had to make do with what he had.
"Of course, your Excellency, this conversation will remain between us," the Jedi nodded. "I am not one of the talkative ones, and with Skywalker we have... complicated relations."
"As do all sentients in this galaxy," Sheev smiled. So that was it. Then Anakin was not exaggerating when he said this Jedi had an extremely prejudiced view toward him. This should be exploited.
"Tell me of your greatest fear, and I will force you to face it; tell me what you value most, and I will understand what you can be deprived of."
"General," the Nabooan addressed his interlocutor. "Rick, if I may call you that when we are alone."
"As your Excellency wishes," the Jedi submissively gave the leading role in the conversation to the Chancellor. As befits a soldier in a conversation with the Supreme Commander. "Wonderful," Palpatine thought, drawing out the word in his mind. A submissive Jedi. A good puppet.
"I would like to entrust you, my friend, with a mission. Of course if you would not refuse to break your leave," a slight smile played on the Chancellor's face.
"Anything you command," a slight nod from the Jedi. Oh, even so... was he truly ready to fulfill any mission? Even if it were not pleasant to him?
"As you may know, the Republic's deposits are held by the Banking Clan," Palpatine leaned back in his luxurious chair. "At the moment my administration is preparing a bill to purchase new batches of clones from Kamino—the last of those that will be ready in this decade. I think it is no secret that their method of producing clones, though high-quality, is time-consuming?"
"Yes," the Jedi nodded. "The Council discussed something similar. Perhaps next year Kamino will hand over to us the last batch of clones that can reach maturity in the coming decade."
"This is a very large problem," the Chancellor put on a sad face. "We are losing too many fighters. There are so many 'hot spots' in the galaxy that the existing number of clones is simply not enough. The armies, like fire brigades, move from one battle to another. Leaving behind liberated but unprotected worlds. We simply cannot establish outposts to protect each of the liberated planets—we simply will not have enough clones to protect such an enormous territory."
"The army needs more clones," the Jedi said understandingly.
"Exactly. Therefore, I want to send my plenipotentiary representative to the Muuns—to inspect the Republic's finances, to understand whether it is within our power to continue this war, or whether dark times await us, when Count Dooku's droid army will prevail in the galaxy."
"You can be at ease regarding the sectors where my armies are located," the Jedi chuckled smugly. "As soon as we gather strength, there will be no 'clankers' left there."
"If only it were so in every supersector," Palpatine said dreamily. "But I fear final victory is very far off. Therefore, I need to know how much longer we will be able to resist. Or, perhaps it is worth starting negotiations to prevent a total defeat."
"You want me to accompany the senator you are sending to Scipio?" Palpatine felt he was sitting before an extremely perceptive subordinate. "One day he may become a problem," Sidious judged coldly. He would have to get rid of him if Dougan could not fit within the framework of the New Order.
"Yes, Rick, you are absolutely right," the Chancellor said with feigned tiredness. "The Banking Clan finances both sides of the conflict. Of course, I trust Senator Amidala... but I would prefer she be accompanied by someone I trust implicitly."
A dangerous moment. Much could go wrong. He could refuse, and then the small multi-stage plan would not work.
"Ehm... the thing is, I am practically unacquainted with the senator, and to be honest," the Jedi hesitated. "I do not much like those who advocate for cutting military spending in the heat of conflict. Lest it turn out worse."
"The worse, the better, my boy," Sidious could have said. But Palpatine preferred another option.
"Circumstances require us to interact with those who are not particularly pleasant to us, my friend," Palpatine smiled with feigned "guilt." "I can consider you my friend, Rick, can I not?"
"Of course, your Excellency," wonderful. The pawn knew its place and did not overstep, like the late Master C'baoth, who unceremoniously switched to personal communication whenever he considered it necessary for himself. "I will fulfill your assignment."
Palpatine once more mentally thanked his teacher for his wisdom. It seemed he had another opportunity to nudge Anakin closer to the Dark Side.
"Then, we should not delay," Palpatine smiled. "I will immediately contact Senator Amidala."
***
"Hello!"
Ahsoka, trudging dejectedly past the Archive shelves, literally jumped, hearing a familiar voice.
"Olie!?" Seeing her acquaintance, the Togruta literally blossomed.
The punishment Master Windu had assigned her seemed extremely cruel to the girl. Guarding the Archive for an entire month! As if anything could happen here!? Boredom, nothing more.
Especially considering that practically none of her acquaintances were ever here. There was no one even to exchange a word with.
She should be at the front now! Fighting, crushing droids, and not wasting her talents while the Masters deemed her to have sufficiently atoned for her guilt for disobeying the orders of her teacher and Obi-Wan.
And anyway! She was winning, for that matter! She'd put a whole regiment of droids to flight—and she had only a small mechanized unit. Well, yes, her teacher might be right—the "cans" were retreating because he and Kenobi were pressing their positions. But they were fleeing, weren't they!
"Thank the Force you're here," Skywalker's apprentice rejoiced. "Being in the Archives is just boring!"
"In case you've forgotten, I'm the former Padawan of Archivist Nu," the dark-haired girl reminded. "And there's a lot of useful stuff here, actually!"
Ahsoka bit her lip. Hutt, and how had she missed that? Olie could even take offense, leave—and again she'd have to pass the time by circling these endless shelves.
"I... didn't quite mean that," the small Togruta began to excuse herself. "It would be one thing if they let me read something here, but I'm just patrolling..."
"Oh, in that case, yes," Starstone nodded in agreement. "Cursed boring. My Master said you were punished too severely."
"I think so too," Tano sighed heavily. "Your teacher gave a whole speech in my defense. But it seems no one listened to his opinion."
"It happens," the girl shrugged. "I also think many Jedi should consult with him more often. But who's interested in the opinion of two Padawans?"
"True enough," Tano agreed. "Wait, what are you doing in the Archives? I thought you knew everything in the world."
"Believe me—not even close," Olie laughed. "My Master flew off to meet with Chancellor Palpatine and assigned me to send requisitions for new equipment to the manufacturers."
"He's meeting with the Chancellor himself?" the Togruta's eyes rounded. "No way. Are they friends?"
"Very unlikely," the interlocutor answered coldly. "Palpatine appointed him Grand Moff and gave him responsibility for the territories of Hutt Space, the 13th, 14th, and 15th Sector Armies. We are now the 10th System Army 'Jent.'"
Her friend pronounced the last phrase with obvious pride. And it was understandable—her teacher trusts her so much. Look, he sent her to buy equipment. And they'll return to the front soon. While she'll stay here, guarding shelves.
Just unfair!
Eh, if only Anakin had stood up for her, supported her at the Council the way Dougan had! "The guilt of Padawan Tano in getting carried away with the fight cannot be established in principle! She is a student who acted in combat conditions. She made the decision to continue the fight, and in fact, she was winning. And now we are ready to punish her for it? Then why do we not punish those who failed the operation on Jabiim? Or those who allowed the restoration of droid factories on Geonosis? Those who left our forces to die on Ryloth? These are double standards, gentlemen. Either punish everyone who has ever been guilty, or no one. I do not know what decision the Council will make, but I am definitely against punishing Ahsoka under such conditions." The girl appreciated such an act by the Master. Not one of the other Masters, even Obi-Wan, whom she had known for a long time, stood up for her. Of course, it was hurtful—especially on the part of Anakin's teacher and Master Plo.
Yes, Anakin took the blame on himself, saying that her failure was a flaw in his training. But by doing so, he only emphasized that she had indeed made a mistake.
And from that, it only became sadder.
"Well, since you're busy," Ahsoka pulled herself away from her thoughts, realizing her friend had been saying something while she was recalling what had happened at the Council. "I'll go sit at one of the terminals. And don't worry," Olie smiled, "like any Jedi, I know how to use the Archive computers."
Looking at the receding figure of Master Dougan's apprentice, Ahsoka mentally scolded herself for what had happened. Well, for what Hutt had she indulged in reflection during the dialogue? Now she'd have to cut circles around the Archive again in an attempt to occupy herself with something. And besides Olie, there wasn't a soul here!
And as if in refutation of her thoughts, another Jedi entered her field of vision, entering the Archive.
"Good day, Master Enicense!" Ahsoka rejoiced at the new guest, smiling sincerely at a Jedi she had seen at most a couple of times.
The Skrilling noticed her, somewhat surprised that someone had hailed him. "Well, yes," Ahsoka thought sadly. "I'm not exactly a large gizka for everyone in the Temple to know me."
"Good day... girl," the Jedi greeted her.
"Which was to be proven," the apprentice proved the obvious truth to herself. "He doesn't even know who I am."
"Do you need help?" Ahsoka inquired with hidden hope. "Maybe with anything!? Please, say you need help!"
"No," the Skrilling threw back the refusal over his shoulder, only stopping for a second from his movement toward the back row of computer terminals. "But thank you. There is no need to worry."
Ahsoka barely held herself back from an impulse to ask again, but in time remembered Olie's instruction. Every Jedi knows how to use the terminals in the Archive. Who needs her help here? Indeed, who needs a guard here at all, when the largest collection of information in the galaxy is located in the depths of the Jedi Temple itself?
Sighing, Ahsoka was about to prepare for another circuit when she heard the beep of her comlink.
"Yes?" she answered with hope that it might be her teacher.
"Are you going to stand there like a post for long?" Olie inquired in a whisper (Jocasta Nu scolded loudly when someone raised their voice in the Archives. A library, after all). "Or will you quietly slip away to me in the fifth hall and we'll work on the orders together?"
"Already on my way!" Tano exclaimed with enthusiasm, rushing toward the stairs at the other end of the Archives, vainly trying to remember where the fifth hall was located.
***
Padmé tried not to pay attention to the man walking beside her.
Pompous...
The Senator tried to hold herself back from sharp emotions. Inhale-exhale, inhale-exhale.
Breathing exercises Anakin had once taught her. They help restrain emotions.
Why does she need a guard if she is going to a neutral planet? The CIS are not so reckless as to attack Scipio, where their deposits are also held. So why does she need a guard there? A simple military transport would have sufficed to deliver her to the place.
The Chancellor is decisively painting a grim picture, reflecting on the danger such a journey might present. Yes, she would have to fly through enemy-occupied territory, but after all, there exists the rule of diplomatic immunity! Even Count Dooku would think three times before attacking a senator's ship. He is not General Grievous...
"Senator Amidala," Dougan addressed her. "My ship will be ready for flight by tomorrow morning."
"Happy for you," Padmé snapped, immediately trying to bring herself under control. "Forgive me, but I do not need a guard. Especially since Scipio is a neutral party..."
"With all respect, but this mission was entrusted to me by the Chancellor," the Jedi reminded her. "And, in favor of your opinion, I do not intend to violate the given order."
"As you wish," the Nabooan huffed, continuing her movement down the corridor.
What a persistent type! Flagrant behavior for a Jedi—it is no wonder Anakin is so indignant at his behavior!
"Do you intend to accompany me all the way to departure?" realizing that Dougan continued to walk with her, the former Queen stopped, looking at the Jedi with the most contemptuous gaze she was capable of.
"What?" It seemed the Jedi had only just tuned back into the conversation, having been off in his thoughts. "No, I have business with one of the senators. It is not my fault the builders of the Senate building placed the missions in one circular corridor."
Shaking her head, the Nabooan was internally struck by such insolence. Criticizing the builders to favor his own benefit! Such a thing she could have expected from anyone, but only not from a Jedi...
"And with which senator do you have business?" the girl inquired with a touch of spite.
"Riyo Chuchi," the Jedi answered shortly. The Nabooan's eyebrows shot up, because she too was heading to the same diplomatic mission. The Pantoran had asked her to stop by as soon as the meeting with the Chancellor ended. But she hadn't mentioned that this... Jedi would be present there too.
Or was he heading there on his own initiative?
Suddenly, a realization struck Padmé.
Anakin had said that Dougan was quite young—he was not even thirty. Skywalker himself had only just turned twenty, and at times the Nabooan was troubled by their age difference—a full five years. From the height of her experience, she tried to curb the hot temperament of the young Jedi, but Anakin... he was still too young to perceive the full extent of the troubles that could follow if their secret marriage became known to anyone. He would lose his place in the Order, and she could be recalled from the Senate. Or she would lose the votes of some supporters who would not be too pleased with her "close connection" to the Order. It was unknown which was worse for democracy.
But perhaps Padmé and Anakin were not the only ones in the Senate and Order who had gone against the rules?
The theory could have a place. Of course, she had never been close friends with Riyo, so they had never had heart-to-heart talks—everything was strictly within the framework of work. Но с другой стороны, панторанка, хоть и на год старше, все равно, мила собой и весьма учтива. And the fact that Padmé had never heard anything from her about a significant other, nor seen her with anyone outside the Senate, could be indirect evidence that she did have a lover after all. And if so, then it was no wonder Chuchi so carefully guarded her private life.
Furthermore, since the start of the war, they had both grown closer to each other. Not once or twice, Anakin had found her in the Senate in Chuchi's company, who could well have made assumptions similar to those now flashing in Padmé's head. And she could well have shared them with her lover, who, Padmé was practically certain, was this Jedi. It was no wonder that back then, on Rodia, he had not hesitated to give Anakin's cloak specifically to her, saying that she surely knew its owner.
Was it so? Or only a fruit of her imagination?
Likely, this could be verified during the meeting. Yes, she could not see the Jedi's face, but the Pantoran, with her inability to control her emotions, was like an open book.
Meanwhile, their joint journey ended at the door behind which the Pantoran mission was located.
"Well, here we are," Padmé said meaningfully.
"You're Captain Obvious, Senator," a chuckle came from under the mask. The Jedi, with a clearly habitual gesture, pressed the key unlocking the door.
"Senator Chuchi," he addressed the Pantoran, who was suspiciously close to the entrance door, in Padmé's opinion. As if she were expecting someone.
"General..." a range of emotions ran across Riyo's face when she saw Amidala standing beside the armor-clad figure. Well, everything was clear here. "Padmé! You came..."
"How could I leave a friend in such a situation," Padmé said with a smile, pleased that her train of thought had turned out to be correct. The Nabooan unceremoniously walked inside the room, noticing the other persons present inside. "Chairman Papanoida, glad to see you! Riyo said you would arrive soon..."
"Senator Amidala," the former baron was squat, rather fat, dressed in the traditional clothing of his kind. The joy he radiated from the meeting was literally palpable. "These are my daughters, Chi Eekway and Che Amanwe," he pointed to two young Pantorans standing nearby. "My son, Ion," the blue-skinned youth shook the senator's extended hand. "We decided to arrive early to be able to prepare for the upcoming Senate session on our issue. And who is our guest?"
Padmé watched with interest as the Jedi, approaching, bowed courteously. At the same time, the Nabooan standing beside him overheard a low phrase dropped by Dougan: "Papa Smurf, is that you?", but realized that no one else had heard it. "Some kind of greeting, probably," the girl decided.
"Chairman Papanoida, this is General..." Riyo, wishing to introduce the guest, faltered. Padmé smiled internally, once more convincing herself she was right.
"High Jedi General Rick Dougan," Amidala tried to hide her surprise. Dougan—a Master of the Order? How had that happened? Why hadn't Anakin told her about this? And even during the conversation with the Chancellor, such information had not been voiced. She would have to have a serious talk with her jealous husband.
"Pleased to meet you," Papanoida broke into a smile. "Your appearance seems familiar to me..."
"You may have seen a recording of my battle with Count Dooku's Dark servant Sev'rance Tann on the HoloNet," the Jedi replied. "As I recall, the recording was played on your news channels."
"Ah, yes," the Chairman nodded. "I think I remember. What brought you to Senator Chuchi's office?" The Jedi glanced briefly at the Pantoran, who stood silently to his left. Padmé needed only one look at the embarrassed girl for the last doubts to vanish.
"The Chancellor has appointed me Grand Moff of the 10th System Army 'Jent,'" she would have to have a VERY serious talk with Anakin. Despite the fact that they hadn't seen each other for a long time after the incident when she had wormed her way into the confidence of her former lover, Rush Clovis, and found out about the construction of a new droid factory on Geonosis, the relationship between the secret husband and wife had cooled significantly. By Anakin's own fault. Boundless jealousy and the burdensome forced secrecy added no stability to their marriage. At times, it seemed to Padmé that the family cup had cracked in a way that could not be fixed. But each time she remembered that this boy meant much more to her than she was willing to admit. And still, a rift and quarrels were no reason to hide such information from her. The appointment of a Jedi first as Moff, then as Grand Moff, could mean the Chancellor was trying to impose his will on the Order. Or, at minimum—to enlist their support, considering the dissatisfaction of some senators with the transfer of a vast amount of authority to Palpatine. "Pantora now falls within my sphere of responsibility. It so happened that I overheard part of the Senator's conversation with the Chancellor about your planet's problems and the established blockade. Therefore, I decided to inquire if I could help in some way."
Padmé smiled stealthily. It was so romantic—a knight in shining armor coming to the aid of his beloved. Such moments are worth living for. They are so touching—like those when Anakin, as a sign of his love and devotion, had given her his Padawan braid upon becoming a Jedi Knight. Or his gift—the protocol droid C-3PO, assembled by his own hands, who had served her faithfully for so long.
"That is commendable," the Chairman appreciated. "The Trade Federation has imposed a blockade on our planet, which is simply unacceptable in wartime."
"In general I support you," the Jedi agreed. "But what is the reason for the blockade?"
"The Federation's representatives say it is a matter of our debts for imports," the Baron said contemptuously. "But there were always delays with payment, and it always suited our suppliers. Now, no sooner had a debt of two hundred billion formed, and a battle station is hanging over our planet."
"How much did you say?" Padmé's breath even hitched. Ten years ago, the Trade Federation had imposed a blockade on her home in response to the young Queen's attempts to draw the Republic's attention to the fact that the Neimoidians had taken advantage of the previous ruler's lack of experience in galactic trade and, buying plasma from Naboo for mere credits, resold it at astronomical prices. The establishment of taxes on profits by the Republic could have curbed the Neimoidians, but only led to the planet's occupation. And after all, the question of the amount of funds that were to have entered the Republic's budget from these taxes concerned not billions—but three hundred million credits a year. "That is a gigantic sum! Over what period did such a debt form?"
"Since the beginning of the war," Riyo spoke up. "The living conditions on our planet are not the most pleasant—a large part of Pantora is swamp, and crops cannot be grown there."
"Therefore we have to import food," the Baron finished the thought. "To provide for a billion inhabitants..."
"You just need to stop embezzling the budget," the Jedi said unexpectedly. "Chairman, two hundred billion is not just big money. It is a hell of an enormous sum. I don't remember exactly, but the minimum subsistence level established by the Republic is..."
"One hundred credits a year," Padmé remembered. "On that sum one can live perfectly well if one doesn't work. Is there really such enormous unemployment on your planet?"
"No, certainly not!" Papanoida protested. "Yes, about a third of the population is unemployed, but you are mistaken. There is no corruption on Pantora."
"Sure, and I'm a Bantha," Dougan chuckled. "So, I take it the Senate is aware of the situation as a whole?"
"Yes, General," Riyo echoed.
"In that case you do not even have a chance to portray such behavior by the Trade Federation as a military occupation rather than internal affairs," the Grand Moff declared decisively. "What do you think, Senator Amidala?"
"I am sorry, Riyo," Padmé shook her head. "But here I agree with the General. Two hundred billion in debt—the Trade Federation is within its rights. I fear their next step will be an initiative to introduce external management to repay the debts."
"This is all nonsense!" Papanoida declared. "These are separatist machinations. Count Dooku offered us to join the Confederacy in exchange for lifting the siege. Many members of the Assembly support this decision. The Republic is our last chance..."
Silence reigned in the mission room. Padmé, glancing stealthily at Chuchi, could only sympathize with the girl. External management or an alliance with the Separatists—both options were deplorable. It seemed the prince in shining armor would not be able to help her.
"Dooku is very precise in his choice of words," the Jedi broke the silence. "He spoke only of lifting the blockade. But not of closing the debt..."
"And after all, the General is right," the Baron's son intervened. "We all know the cunning of the separatist leader."
"But then what is to be done in this situation!?" Papanoida exclaimed. "We are cut off from all trade communications. The people are starving!"
"I think there is a solution," the Jedi cast a glance at Chuchi's desk and, approaching it, in complete silence brought up a three-dimensional map of the galaxy. Then, he narrowed it to the size of the Sujimis sector.
"Pantora is at a distance from all significant hyperspace routes," he reminded those gathered. "But, at the same time, the planet is located almost on the edge of the explored space of the Outer Rim. Moreover—far from the front in your supersector."
"Actually, the front now passes approximately along the Rugosa-Vohai-Suarbi line," the Baron's son recalled. "So we are almost on the front line."
"Well, it's not like you're in the trenches," the Jedi parried.
"And yet the droids in the recent past tried to establish an outpost on our moon," Papanoida reminded him.
"As did the Republic," Chuchi intervened. "But after a clash with the local inhabitants, the Grand Army abandoned its base."
"That is so," Dougan agreed. "But what stops you from founding a new one?"
"The inhabitants of Orto Plutonia," Papanoida smirked. "They are warlike and unfriendly to outsiders."
"And the inhabitants of Pantora?" the Jedi smirked.
"Pardon me..."
"As Grand Moff I have the right to independently decide where the rear bases of my system army will be located," Dougan explained. "And, it seems to me, the Trade Federation will violate several Republic laws if it obstructs the movement of Republic military ships—as well as the creation of a base on the planet."
"But..." Papanoida fell silent for a moment, as if processing the information. "Suppose I agree to this. However, the Assembly might not agree with such a decision."
"I will send a group of Jedi to the planet to investigate facts of corruption," Dougan continued. And, noticing that the Chairman intended to object, unceremoniously added. "Don't deny it, it's there. It cannot not be there. Or do you seriously think two hundred billion can just disappear?..."
"The planet's inhabitants deny themselves little," Papanoida said.
"They should have," the Jedi said with a touch of reproach.
"And yet," Amidala noted. "This does not solve the question of food supplies. Or the debt itself."
"In my zone of responsibility there are many agricultural worlds," Dougan recalled. "The inhabitants of the planet Ukio are grateful to me for liberation from CIS occupation. I think it will be possible to negotiate with them for food supplies to your planet, though they will still have to be paid for."
"We simply have nothing with which to pay," Chuchi admitted. "Pantora is almost bankrupt."
"If you feed an army of unemployed—yes," Dougan countered. "But it seems to me that among three hundred million sentients there will be those who are ready to work. You only need to conduct an explanatory talk."
"What are you talking about?" Papanoida frowned. "Pantora, like other Republic worlds, does not compel its citizens to labor..."
"I mean that in System Army 'Jent' there is an enormous number of vacancies," a hint from which a chill ran down Padmé's spine. How can one force someone to labor? After all, it is the government's duty to care for the welfare of its inhabitants. "It seems to me that if at least half of that number goes into service as volunteers, getting on army rations and provision—it will significantly reduce the load on the planet's budget. Not to mention that the army has an enormous number of vacancies for specialists—technicians, maintenance personnel. Not to mention service in active units."
"General, you are forgetting yourself," Papanoida raised his voice slightly. "It is the Republic's duty to protect the planets within it. The clones must secure us from the CIS army!"
"Remind Count Dooku of that when your people are dying of hunger, and the survivors are driven into concentration camps or used as human shields for artillery pieces, as it was on Ryloth," Dougan said coldly.
"General Dougan," Chuchi said quietly. "I heard that you have a large number of friends among the inhabitants of Christophsis. Can they not help us settle the debt with the Trade Federation?"
"I think that should be discussed with their representative," Dougan shrugged. "But as for me—you will change one creditor for another. And since we're on the subject—Christophsis does not consider it shameful to send volunteers to my army to participate in the war."
"They have a population of thirty-five billion!" Papanoida waved it off. "Even if they lose half in the war—they will still be able to preserve their race, but we..."
"This is, of course, purely my opinion, Chairman," the Jedi noted. "But when the question concerns the security of one's homeland directly—every one of its sons or daughters must take up arms and defend their future. And if you rely on the clones, then remember how many of them there are in total in the Grand Army. And what number of 'cans' the separatists have."
The Baron decisively turned away from the table on which the hologram of the sector still swirled. Taking a few steps to the side, he turned back just as sharply, fixing his gaze on the Jedi.
"Good," despite his knitted brows, his face did not seem warlike. "I will agree to the placement of your army's military base on Pantora's territory. However, only the Assembly can ratify such a treaty. As well as decide the question of admitting Jedi to investigations of questions of alleged corruption."
"As you say, Chairman," the Jedi agreed suspiciously easily. Padmé, as an opponent seasoned by years of intrigue, sensed something wrong.
"At the moment, Senator Amidala and I have to fulfill an extremely responsible mission," the Nabooan's attention was drawn to a flashing light of the comlink on the Jedi's bracer. "But as soon as we are finished with it, we will head straight to Pantora. And until that moment, Chairman, do not take it as insolence, but I would ask you to pay great attention to the protection of your children. Since you arrived here to oppose the Trade Federation, I personally will not be surprised if the Neimoidians try to exert influence on you by kidnapping one of them."
"Forgive me, but that is nonsense," Papanoida noted decisively. "They are just traders..."
"And a bulk freighter is hanging over your planet, not a combat starship," Dougan quipped.
"Chairman," Padmé drew attention to herself with a cough. "From my own experience I can tell you that before achieving their goals, these sentients will stop at nothing."
Huffing contemptuously, Papanoida cast a glance at his children, as if seeking support from them. But literally in the next moment, he said exhaustedly:
"You win. Send your guard."
"My Padawan is just on the line," Dougan touched the comlink key. "Olie... What?! What the hell were you doing there?! Was anyone hurt?! Pray to your gods that I don't kill you when I return."
Switching off the communication device, the Jedi looked at those present. However, tracking the direction of his gaze, Padmé noted that his face mask was directed at Senator Chuchi.
"Pardon me, Mr. Chairman," the Jedi finally said. "Some difficulties have arisen. I will send you other guards. And now, I urgently need to return to the Temple. Chairman, senators, Chairman's children," placing his index and middle fingers to the right side of his forehead above the eye slits, the Jedi rapidly left the diplomatic mission room.
"And what was that?" Papanoida inquired, breaking the silence that had formed after the General's departure.
"A Grand Moff," Ion replied with a smirk, looking at the smiles on his sisters' faces.
"A Jedi," Padmé shrugged. Very peculiar, but because of that, no less interesting. Strong-willed, authoritative... even despotic, in her opinion. It was hard to imagine that the Order could have raised such a harsh Force adept who could communicate in such an unceremonious manner not only with a senator but with the government of a planet allied to the Republic. However, comparing Dougan with her husband, Amidala could not but admit that the former possessed a number of undeniable advantages. In particular—the ability to show firmness, regardless of the protests of the weaker half. Padmé had more than once used her "senatorial tone" to curb Anakin's emotional outbursts. Even situations in which she was not entirely right, the girl managed to turn to her advantage. And, as shameful as it was to admit, she did it in the hope of changing her beloved, as her mother used to say—"to bring him under her thumb." The girl always justified herself by the fact that compared to her young husband, her life experience was significantly richer, and it was she who had the right to set the tone in their marriage. Perhaps one day Anakin would become that strong and willful man she needed. Would achieve such heights as Dougan, would possess such charisma as is characteristic of Clovis...
But when would that be? How many more scandals would occur? How many suspicions of infidelity would she have to endure? How many accusations listen to?
Comparing her beloved with other men who inevitably surrounded her, Padmé sometimes thought about whether she had been too hasty in her choice of partner. The passion and infatuation that had possessed her on the brink of death had faded after a year of marriage. In their place had appeared domesticity and habit... Padmé was horrified to think that perhaps, in reality, she had never loved Anakin. And her kiss on the Petranaki arena had occurred not because she truly felt love for this extraordinary fiery youth, but because she wanted to give him and herself the last pleasant minutes of life before they were executed by the enraged Geonosisans...
Stunned by her thoughts, Padmé shook her head, trying to drive them from her mind.
"I have a long road ahead," the Nabooan found an excuse to leave the assembly. "Much still needs to be done. Perhaps I will go."
"I envy you, Padmé," Riyo whispered to her at the door. "You have a joint mission ahead. General Dougan... is an unusual Jedi."
"Believe me," the former Queen of Naboo sighed. "I would give much not to be beside him during the upcoming mission."
***
Few paid attention to an ordinary Krevaaki on the lower levels of Coruscant. He was bypassed, no one hindering the slow-moving sentient as he followed his way. Even the gangs of bandits that usually operated in these districts tried to avoid him. And even if some of them dared to bar his path, Bodo always found the right words to quiet the hotheads.
He had lived a long life. Too long to close his eyes to the changes that had pursued the Order from generation to generation.
Ever since he had received the holocron from his ancestor, not a day had passed without him adding something new to it. At first, horrified by the chaos he had inherited in this little box he always carried with him, Baas had spent hundreds of years systematizing the scattered information. Then, for seven hundred years now, the Jedi had been occupied with filling the device with new information.
Everything was here. His personal thoughts on disagreement with the Order's policy under the management of Yoda and Windu. His opinion on the training program for young Jedi. His own reflections on the Jedi path...
All his victories in diplomatic arenas.
And all his failures.
His diplomatic talent had first met with failure a little over five hundred years ago.
When the Order became aware of the existence of Force-users calling themselves the Zeison Sha, the Jedi sent representatives to them, among whom was Bodo. The goal of the mission, as always in such cases, was simple—to convince the adepts to join if their views were in harmony with the Jedi ones. Or else, to destroy the threat. Nothing in this galaxy was to be allowed to let the Dark Side triumph. Unfortunately, in light of recent events, Baas was forced to conclude that the Order had lost the battle with the legacy of the Dark Side.
Just as it had not achieved success in negotiations with the Zeison Sha.
The inhabitants of the planet Yanibar, despite the fact that their views, in a sense, did correspond to the Jedi worldview, refused to join the Order. Too much in the Order's teaching was alien to the Zeison Sha. The isolation of students from families, which the Jedi adhered to, proved to be the last straw for the inhabitants of Yanibar. They agreed to join the Order, but only on the condition that the renunciation of family, isolation of students from parents, and several other fundamental dogmas of the Order be abolished. And, despite the truly incredible potential of these adepts in telekinesis and the handling of their unique weapon—the discblade, the High Council refused to make concessions, stating that the Code is one for all.
As if Corellian Jedi, whose life principles ran contrary to the Order's policy, did not exist.
Bodo's second disappointment in his diplomatic abilities was felt at the meeting with the leader of the Matukai. The natives of Karvoss II, upon learning of the Jedi mission, cordially listened to them. But as soon as the conversation turned to the question of uniting both organizations, the Matukai leader, Mendor Typhoons, stated that the Jedi style of training was significantly inferior to their own. At first this was taken as a joke, but the longer the negotiations continued, the more the Jedi realized that no one was joking with them. The Matukai, unlike the Jedi, did not attain the Force through long training sessions. No, each of them, regardless of even the lowest sensitivity to the Force, through long, well-thought-out physical training, turned into a fearsome weapon of disproportionate power. The Matukai built their philosophy around such a concept as the "center of focus," which was their own body.
They always maintained balance and harmony between the Force and the physical aspects of their own body. The flexibility of spirit that appeared during long training allowed them to direct the Force so effectively that, according to the Matukai leader's statements, it completely guaranteed against any forms of torment. And, strangely enough, it saved them from manifestations of the Dark Side. A great achievement, which is beyond the reach of the Jedi Order as a whole.
Since then, centuries had passed. The Tedryn Holocron, as the relic of his ancestors was called, had been replenished with hundreds of thousands of instructions. And even a short note about the Dark Underlord—the Sith faction that broke away from the Brotherhood of Darkness a thousand years ago—found its reflection in the depths of the infinite data vessel.
Memories of the ruthless extermination of the Dark Underlord, a sect that never interfered in politics or the lives of ordinary people while attaining the power of the Force, albeit in the aspect of the Dark Side, rankled Bodo's aging soul. A page of the Order that has been erased forever even from the Archives—as have the hundreds of souls of dark adepts, tracked down and destroyed about a hundred years ago. But unlike Yoda, Bodo never hid his head in the sand—hence the eternal protests against the Council's policy. Considering the concealment of sad pages of the Order's history a shame that only clouds the minds of younglings and corrupts the thoughts of young Jedi, Bodo painstakingly collected his own version of the Order's history, carefully hiding his work from the rest of the Jedi. Only his close friend, Ashka Boda, knew of this. And, as befits a faithful comrade, kept the secret.
But now, it was not memory of the past that had brought Baas to this Force-forgotten place. More precisely, not only that.
He was quite well-versed in foresight, therefore, despite the veil of the Dark Side, he could discern some glimmers of the future with the help of the Force. But the images were so indistinct that he had to resign himself to his failures. Until today.
Despite the turmoil in the Temple, he had not canceled the meeting.
He had informed no one of it. Even Ashka remained in ignorance.
Bodo Baas was walking toward fate. Knowledge promised to him by a stranger over the comlink. Knowledge of the distant past, of the Eternal Empire built many millennia ago by a Force-sensitive man named Valkorion. In the Archives he had been unable to find anything at all about this man's personality, but the stranger assured him that Valkorion and the ancient Sith Emperor Vitiate were one and the same person. And she spoke of evidence.
Such information could become a massive layer in his holocron. Therefore, the Jedi observed all the rules established by his interlocutor.
Finally, finding himself opposite the entrance to the specified warehouse, Bodo entered the code communicated to him on the panel and went inside.
His eyes peered into the gloom of the room smelling of mold and rot, covered in a layer of dust. Reaching out with the Force, he discovered with relief the only living being, besides himself, located nearby. And unhurriedly headed toward it.
"I am Jedi Bodo Baas," seeing the figure in a long cloak, he introduced himself. "Are you the one who wished to inform me of the Eternal Empire?"
"Yes," a quiet female voice reached him. "Did you come alone, as I asked?"
"Of course," the Jedi echoed. "I never break the word I have given."
"That is good," it seemed to him the interlocutor's tone changed.
"So what did you wish to inform me of?" he asked, having approached the stranger to within a good dozen meters. Now he stood a few meters from her and saw that the girl hiding herself under the folds of the cloak was a Lethan Twi'lek. A rare guest on Coruscant. The only representative of this subspecies of Twi'leks he had seen was in the company of the senator from Ryloth. And never more...
"The thing is—" Bodo was slightly taken aback seeing an armor-clad hand emerge from the cloak, gripping a lightsaber. A moment—and the cloak was on the floor, and the weapon came alive with a crimson color. "The Eternal Empire has returned."
Bodo thanked the Force for prompting him to take a weapon with him this time. A green blade reflected the Lethan's strong overhead strike, after which Bodo was forced to move into full defense. Lunges rained down on him like hail, and all he could do was merely back toward the exit, hoping to blow the door out with the Force and escape before his opponent could overcome Bodo.
Like most diplomats, Baas used the Niman style in combat—sufficient to oppose ordinary opponents. But clearly insufficient to win a battle with a perfectly trained Force-user.
The Lethan delivered strikes from above and below, from different angles, obviously having sensed the incompleteness of Bodo's defense. The Krevaaki desperately defended himself, trying to conduct counterattacks, but this ended only in a deep scar on his chitinous facial plate.
There was no point in conducting a dialogue with this assassin. He should flee, preserving the most valuable thing he had...
Bodo, taking advantage of the fact that the Twi'lek was distracted, frying the control panel with Force Lightning, delivered a sweeping strike which, had it reached its goal, should have decapitated the enemy.
Instead, the killer parried the lunge with her blade, holding it near her face, and with force threw the Jedi back. Toward the doors that had become a trap. Bodo felt that the Dark Side had closed the chains and now, instead of a simple panel, a reinforced plate, which had been hidden in the warehouse wall until the necessary moment, separated him from freedom. A carefully prepared ambush.
The Twi'lek jumped, simultaneously delivering a glancing blow to his right arm, which Bodo instinctively blocked.
And in the very next minute received a strong blow to the face that threw him against the warehouse's metal wall. In the next second the crimson blade pinned the right side of his body, piercing his entire being with unbearable pain.
Bodo's lightsaber ended up in the killer's hands, who without a second thought rendered it useless, hacking it with her own weapon. And only after that, leaned over the fallen enemy.
"For a diplomat you held out for quite a long time, Master Baas," she said with a touch of admiration, tearing the ornate belt, in which the holocron was stored, from the Krevaaki. After a short check, she extracted the device and instantly hid it in her own clothing. "Believe me, that is praise."
"Whom do you serve, Sith?" the Jedi's inquiring mind did not leave him even in the very last moment. Bodo entertained no hopes regarding his own fate.
"My master," the Twi'lek answered shortly. Stepping back a few paces, she captured a couple of containers, in which chemical reagents are usually stored, with the Force and hurled them at the Jedi.
Feeling physical pain, in the very next second Bodo felt himself losing control over his own body. A heavy gas, which it was impossible to get rid of or breathe in air, filled his lungs and the Jedi's consciousness faded.