The interior of the Imperial Spire was stunning in its magnificence.
Moira Stratus was accustomed to considering herself a person who was difficult to surprise. Even on Jabim, amidst the dirt that was considered soil there, and the endless rains, her people managed to create works of art. Of course, even the government residence did not boast of special luxury, but Moira had seen similar things on other planets.
In particular, having spent her childhood on Alderaan, learning the intricacies of diplomacy, Moira spent all her student years marveling at the beauty of the local palaces. And at the entire architecture created by the people as a whole. Of course, most of these masterpieces were erected in former times, when Alderaanians were not so scrupulous about violence. But the creative potential of the people never made one doubt that there was no more beautiful world in the galaxy.
However, Zakuul managed to debunk such a myth.
The Jabimite, with a thoughtful gaze through the shuttle's porthole, watched the planet, submerged in snow-white clouds, through which sharp spires of incredibly tall buildings broke through. Such a thing would have been unimaginable on her home planet, or even on Coruscant.
"Captain Hermit," she quietly called her head of security. And, by the way, the acting commander of the "Nimbuses." A tall, solidly built man with a small scar on his neck – a parting gift from the Jedi during their last invasion of the planet – rose from his seat and silently approached her. "What do you think, looking at this planet?"
The officer, not known for his talkativeness, looked out the window with a heavy gaze. After a couple of seconds of silence, he shrugged.
"A pleasant world," the man explained his movement. "It doesn't even look as nasty here as on Coruscant."
"First impressions are deceiving, you know," Moira said quietly.
Although she had accepted the invitation – to meet personally with her benefactor, she had to agree to multiple security measures. A rendezvous in an uninhabited system with a starship, the mere sight of its stern hull, with its split bow, was enough to understand that this ship was clearly not built in the Republic. It had many times more turbo-laser batteries than any Republic star destroyer. Which directly indicated that this vessel was clearly created by military professionals, not by yesterday's designers of ships for the Judicial Forces.
Draigan Allous, commander of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul's dreadnought with the proud name "Indomitable," met the Jabimites in the hangar of his starship. After briefly greeting the delegation, he politely asked everyone to follow his soldiers to the cabins, where they remained until the end of the flight.
Moira noted everything she saw. By her calculations, the ship flew for a long time – enough to leave the known space of the galaxy. There were quite a few soldiers on board – they strutted in armor painted in black and silver, not taking off their helmets for a minute. The crew tried to keep their distance from the visitors, so none of the Jabimites managed to even exchange glances with them.
But the Imperials' combat droids were impressive. Snow-white, heavily armed, and entirely made of armor, they undoubtedly surpassed in combat performance those pathetic crafts of the Trade Federation that the CIS supplied to Jabim to fight the Jedi.
And only now were they all allowed to go outside, and travel on an Imperial shuttle to the long-awaited meeting.
The purpose of her journey was a spherical structure that crowned one of Zakuul's tallest skyscrapers. Made entirely of transparisteel, it appeared as a second sun in the system in the rays of the dawn sun.
"Pretentious," Moira thought. "But extremely inefficient. Such a structure would be almost immediately attacked during an invasion." However, the closer her ship flew to the sphere, the more she doubted the validity of her initial judgment.
Through the fluffy blanket of clouds, gray hulls of numerous star destroyers, looking like two drops of water similar to the one that brought her to this system, kept flashing by. It seemed the ruler of this world knew how to surprise those who suddenly decided to destroy his residence.
Engaging its engines, the shuttle flew into the open maw of a spacious hangar. The Zakuulan pilot masterfully stopped the machine as soon as the landing gear touched the matte black floor. Through the porthole, Moira noticed dozens of humanoids in black and silver armor, guarding the perimeter of the hangar and the only exit from it. There was no shortage of guards here.
Descending the ramp with Hermit, the girl was slightly surprised to find the delegation meeting her.
Ten people, strikingly different from those she had seen upon landing. Their attire somewhat resembled Jedi robes, but at the same time, a certain impressiveness could be traced in the style. Fitted, with elements of polished armor covering the legs, chest, back, and arms, it was strikingly different in its gray-silver color and a dull helmet that completely hid the interlocutor's face under a snow-white visor.
Moira instantly assessed that each of these faceless warriors had a lightsaber hilt hanging from their belt. "Jedi!" was her first thought. "A trap!" she realized next. From the tense face of the accompanying commander of the "Nimbuses," she guessed that he had the same thoughts.
"Lady Stratus," one humanoid separated from the group of greeters, looking like two drops of water similar to the others. "My name is Seibrn, from the guard of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul. I have been instructed to escort you to the Emperor."
"I don't want anything to do with the Jedi," Moira said angrily.
"Neither does the Emperor," the guardsman replied. Placing his hands on his weapon, he slightly turned his head so that his helmet looked at both Jabimites. "Not only Jedi use lightsabers."
"Lady, I don't like this," Hermit whispered quietly in her ear. "I recommend..."
"Since we've arrived," Moira squinted, "it's worth listening to what this ruler has to offer."
"Follow me," without waiting for her reply, Seibrn turned sharply on his heels and strode towards the exit. Moira froze for a moment, deciding whether to continue her visit or return. But, recalling the harm the Jedi had done to the planet and how quickly the representatives of Zakuul came to their aid, restoring the destroyed mines in the shortest possible time, she still took a step towards the guards.
Taking their places on either side of the delegates, the faceless lightsaber wielders escorted them on a short march from the hangar to a huge, richly inlaid armored door, which, by her estimate, led inside the spherical structure.
Without a word, Seibrn touched the panel, and as soon as the massive bulkhead parted, he silently proceeded inside. Behind him, continuing to adhere to her plan – at least to find out what the unknown Emperor could offer her – followed Moira, with her guard looming behind her.
The Throne Room greeted them with an atmosphere that emphasized their own insignificance. Moira felt how in such a huge room she, like a little girl, became nervous, feeling more uncomfortable with each step on the wide platform leading to the central part of the structure.
Supporting her initial impression of luxury and breathtaking interior style, the center of the room featured a massive platform crowned by an imposing throne, the back of which, made in the form of two planes narrowing towards the ends, rose a good ten meters above the platform itself.
And in the center of all this frightening magnificence, examining a huge hologram of the planet, in which Moira surprisingly recognized her own homeland, sat a man. His face, like most of his body, was hidden under a long cloak adorned with silver patterns and trim.
Moira, noticing how Seibrn reached the end of the platform and, kneeling before this figure, spoke quietly, looked around. Now they were accompanied only by a trio of guards – the rest, like statues, were positioned on either side of the platform, at equal distances from their neighbor. Another pair stood at attention with their backs to the wall at the entrance to the Throne Room.
Finally, when only a little more than a dozen meters remained to the platform where the unknown sat, two more guards left them, standing at the edge of the platform. And as soon as she reached the central platform, Seibrn and the last guard took their places on either side of the throne. Silent, but, she could swear by the rains of Jabim, deadly dangerous.
Moira thought that her and her escort's weapons would be taken away upon entry, or at least they would be asked to surrender them. But Seibrn and his subordinates simply stood at attention and waited. It seemed the only thing they were allowed in the Throne Room without their master's will was to breathe. They were not at all worried that an armed man would easily get an audience. They didn't care that the Immortal Emperor, as Commander Draigan called him, could become a victim of assassination.
Moira felt sweat appear on her forehead.
What she witnessed was merely proof of the Emperor's immense power. She understood perfectly well that if she tried to detonate a tiny baradium grenade hidden in the heel of her boot and reliably shielded from any scanning, it would cause irreparable damage to the Empire of Zakuul – no one could survive such an explosion. And the guards could not fail to understand the consequences of their actions.
No. They understood perfectly well. They knew they wouldn't have time to prevent a terrorist attack if she suddenly decided to carry it out. They were simply confident that the Emperor's life was in no danger.
There was something about this place that made one uneasy. How can an ordinary sentient not fear death? What power does he possess to so easily meet face-to-face with those who can bring death?
Or is it all her speculation? And in reality, everything happening is the result of the Emperor's security's incompetence?
Moira felt waves of energy emanating from the figure sitting on the throne at that very moment: they were so strong that the very air seemed to ripple. She felt something similar when she fought the Jedi on Jabim. But there it was hundreds of times weaker. The woman gasped at the thought that seemed to hang in the air – the Emperor is sensitive to the Force. And he surpasses any of those she had dealt with in this regard. If so, then this being is capable of resisting the Jedi and the Republic. Such beings should be looked at closely.
The Emperor stood up, and with a deafening clang, the doors behind her closed. The hologram of Jabim dissolved into the air. Moira felt a lump rise in her throat. With force, she swallowed it, trying to maintain a calm expression.
"Lady Stratus," the Emperor said. "I am glad to see you on Zakuul."
Moira rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms together, turning her gaze to the figure towering before her. The Emperor threw back his hood and revealed his face. However, instead of familiar features, a cold metallic mask looked at her, with eye slits covered by black light filters.
One look at the Emperor was enough to make Moira tremble. She tried to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat. Her mouth suddenly became dry, and Stratus was overcome by a choking fit. She swallowed hard again and coughed. This caused a slight chuckle from the person (or was it a person?) standing before her, which she tried to ignore. Finally, having gathered enough saliva to begin her speech, the woman, making a sign to Hermit behind her not to worry, replied to the greeting.
"I am glad to meet my benefactor face to face," she said.
"You asked to meet me. I am always ready for dialogue with my subjects," the Emperor assured her.
There was something strange in his voice. It sounded as if not one being was speaking through the ruler of Zakuul. It was unusually resonant and booming, as if several creatures were speaking his words in a harmonious chorus.
Moira dismissed such thoughts – she needed to concentrate. One wrong word, and she might not leave this room. At least, not alive.
"I have not yet made a final decision about joining the Eternal Empire," explained Sister Alto, "and I have come to hear your offer personally."
She paused, waiting for the Emperor to say something in response. After a few seconds, she realized there would be no reply.
"My people and I are grateful for the help you have provided to the planet. The mines have been restored, and Jabim is ready to regain its place in this galaxy."
"You should turn to the Republic if you seek greatness among ruins," the Emperor said. His tone did not change, but the threat between the lines was quite palpable: "Such a trifle does not deserve my attention."
Moira felt a wave of nausea. Her head seemed to spin.
"I am not interested in a place in a rotten state. I want to know what the Empire can offer our world. And what the price is for all of this."
She folded her arms across her chest, demonstrating her principles. And she was genuinely concerned about this issue. The planet had survived devastation, finding itself at the point of collision of interests between two superpowers. And the last thing Jabim needed now was for Republic or Confederacy expeditionary forces to land on its surface again. And if this answer did not satisfy her, the planet, although grateful for Zakuul's help, would prefer to be left alone with its problems.
"Like any other world, system, sector that will see the light and join the Eternal Empire," the Emperor continued without changing his tone, "you will pay uniform taxes, the same laws will apply to you as in other areas. Your people will be called to serve the Empire and become part of our war machine."
"So far, I haven't heard anything that could benefit my planet," Moira admitted. Her breath caught as the faceless mask stared at her with its impenetrable eye sockets.
"Are order and prosperity no longer in vogue in your part of the galaxy?" the Emperor asked quietly. "Protection from any enemies and investments in your economy – in my opinion, sufficient motivation to cast off blinders and emerge from stagnation. And, unlike the Republic, the Empire will not abandon its citizens to fate in difficult times."
"Our world is rich in minerals," Moira reminded him. "By trading them, we can build a fleet and raise an army ourselves. We already have experience fighting invaders."
"How soon will an armada of any power appear in your orbit after you demonstrate to the galaxy that you are ready to trade your riches? In a day? A month? And how many ships will you manage to acquire in that time?"
This was a blow to the heart, so to speak. Moira understood perfectly well that the Emperor was telling the truth, as she herself thought along the same lines. However, she still hadn't heard clear guarantees. Which she told the Emperor.
"Here are these guarantees," the Emperor said, pointing to the massive hull of the star destroyer on which she had arrived. "And hundreds more like it. Each of our starships is many times stronger than any Republic or Confederacy ship. As is our army. You already know this, Lady Stratus."
Moira nodded unconsciously, agreeing. The commander of the destroyer that brought her here was a nice guy who told her about the advantages of Zakuul's war machine. But, like any ruler concerned about her people, she could not help but try to bargain for better terms.
"And yet, I think that Jabim with its resources deserves a much more privileged position within the Empire," the woman shook her head. Her phrase caused the Emperor to let out a low laugh. More like the grinding of metal.
"The Empire does not bargain, Moira," his laughter stopped as soon as he took a step forward and in an instant appeared before the girl. The Emperor was a head taller than her, so to look into his mask, she had to tilt her head back – the ruler of Zakuul, disregarding ethical norms of personal space, stood at a distance of a dozen inches from her. "You are honored – the offer to join. Agree – and you will be rewarded justly. Refuse – and we will take Jabim by right of the strong. After the Republic or the Confederacy have ravaged it with fire and sword. In any case, what interests the Empire – will belong to it."
"When can we expect your troops to arrive?"
"Advance detachments will be sent immediately after you swear allegiance. More precisely, since you decided to bargain with me and brought explosives into my Throne Room," a palpable chill emanated from him, "convince me to accept your world into the Empire, rather than destroy everything there to the ground."
Moira felt sweat pouring down her back. She had never heard such an aggressive, pragmatic approach, not even from Count Dooku. She heard Hermit snort, sensing danger. How did he know? Those Hutt Jedi tricks!
"Jedi serve you," she remarked, nodding towards the guards. It was not for nothing that she was the smartest in their family. Imminent danger gave her confidence and made her think faster.
"They used to be," the Emperor said, slowly returning to his place. "Now they serve me and the Empire."
The Emperor showed no concern about the exposure of the imminent danger. He was quiet and imperturbable, like death itself. But the air temperature around the Jabimite seemed to begin to drop.
"In that case, there is a gift for you on our shuttle. And for the Empire."
Moira felt a chill run through her body. She understood that not only her life and Hermit's life were in danger. This creature, whoever it was, possessed power sufficient to turn her homeland into a burnt-out planetoid. And all because she did not heed common sense and habitually decided to play it safe.
A long silence ensued, and the woman had a strong impression that the Emperor was invisibly communicating with someone outside the Throne Room.
A few seconds later, the doors opened, and a pair of guards appeared, dressed exactly like those inside. They both walked rhythmically, while behind them, on an anti-gravity platform, moved a huge rectangular metal box.
"An interesting construction," the Emperor commented. "Mandalorian work. And their beskar."
"You are right," the woman agreed. "The chamber was created by Mandalorians to capture Jedi. And now it is being used for its intended purpose."
At her signal, Hermit, familiar with the capsule's device, approached it and quickly unlocked the front lid.
Externally, the structure resembled a rectangular coffin with a single viewing window. Symbols on the outside told of the glorious deeds of the Mandalorians in confronting the Jedi. It seemed like nothing supernatural.
But as soon as the front wall was removed...
Nailed down with beskar manacles, through which a sensitive electric charge was passed, a prisoner was inside the chamber. His hands, feet, torso, and even his head were secured in several places by additional energy bands, which prevented any movement. Simple and effective – the fasteners held the prisoner in one position, and the electric shocks hindered concentration.
"Curious," the Emperor declared.
"One of the Jedi who participated in the attack on Jabim," Moira commented. "Extremely aggressive. A furious fighter, by whose hands many of my soldiers died."
"And how did you capture her?"
"We found her unconscious after the battle," Moira admitted. "Life was barely flickering in her, but our healers brought her back to her feet."
"You intended to hand her over to Count Dooku."
The Emperor was not asking. The Emperor was stating.
The same guards who escorted the camera here, without the slightest audible order, moved the structure to the base of the platform to the left of the throne. So that now nothing hindered both Jabimites from standing directly in front of the Emperor.
"It is very brave of you to offer me what was promised to another," he said. "But since your judgment is true, I will reward you... this time. Jabim will be accepted into the Empire on the conditions I have stated. Without consequences for your low deed."
"Thank you, my Emperor," Moira said, bowing.
"If you ever try to do anything to harm me, the Empire, or my servants again," the ruler added, "you will face a fate more terrible than you can imagine."
The black lakes of his light filters were covered with clouds of red mist, and for a brief moment, the Emperor revealed his true essence to Moira.
The touch lasted less than a second, but Sister Alto Stratus managed to see firsthand an unspeakable horror that surpassed anything even the most skilled executioner on Jabim could invent in the most terrible nightmare.
Moira screamed in agony as the Emperor touched her mind and collapsed on the floor, trembling with fear like a child. Hermit reacted instantly, appearing beside her. Lifting the woman under one arm, with the other he drew a blaster from a hidden holster, but before he could aim it at the source of torment, a lightning-fast streak of a snow-white energy blade cut the weapon in half.
The captain of the "Nimbus" threw the useless weapon aside and tried to draw a second weapon. However, he stopped when he felt an energy blade at his neck.
"What a comedy," the Emperor said, without taking his eyes off her.
The terrible vision ended quickly, and other images almost immediately pushed it into her subconscious. Moira barely found the strength to get up from the floor. Hermit, still controlled by the guardsman holding one snow-white blade at the officer's throat and the second across his back, stood motionless, his arms spread wide. Moira felt her mouth go dry. Her loyal comrade was in mortal danger – the woman had no doubt that his fate was already sealed.
The sense of camaraderie urged her to demand his release immediately. However, her instinct for self-preservation, as well as the unspoken message in the captain's eyes, told her the opposite.
"Follow me," Seabrn said as Moira got to his feet. How he managed to get so close remained a mystery to her.
Only now did Stratus notice that the Emperor had lost all interest in her, examining another hologram before him. Moira tried to recall where she had seen this planet before, but couldn't.
"Now I understand why you didn't search us," Moira muttered as she, two guards, and Hermit found themselves outside the throne room door.
"You have put yourself and your planet in great danger," Seabrn said, and it was difficult to tell from his tone what emotions he was trying to convey with his speech. "You should be glad that your lives were spared and that a punitive detachment was not sent against your world."
"And what will happen to Hermit?" Moira asked, swallowing a lump of indignation. She watched as the second guard, deactivating his blades, twisted the Nimbus fighter's arm at an unnatural angle and led him away in the opposite direction from the hangar. There, as Lady Stratus could see, were the doors to the turbolift. "What will the Emperor do?"
"He will be liquidated," Seabrn replied.
Moira flinched at the ordinary tone with which he said it. No, she had seen death – on the battlefield, where blood and horror reigned, and your life could end in an instant if you were careless. But the way the guard spoke of the death of a fine soldier... As if he were an animal being led to slaughter.
Moira again felt the urge to stand up for her subordinate.
"I don't advise you to do that," the guard said quietly, turning to face her. "Your emotions betray you, Lady Stratus."
"Is there really nothing that can be done?"
"You should think three times before bringing weapons to an audience with the Emperor," the guard admonished. "You should be grateful that you left the throne room alive," he pointed meaningfully with his gaze at her shoes.
Moira felt embarrassed. An old army habit had almost led to disaster... The woman briefly recalled all the horror the Emperor had shown her. No, decisively – Jabiim needed a strong protector. So that the Republic and the separatists would drown in blood if they dared to open their mouths again at the riches of her world.
They reached the hangar doors, behind which her shuttle awaited her return.
"I am ordered to inform you that the Indomitable will deliver you to the rendezvous point," he said and turned on his heels. Before disappearing into the citadel doors, he added, "Keep in mind that the Emperor has ordered us to send our auxiliary forces to your system. As punishment for your guard's attempt to use a weapon. Until there is a direct threat to your system, the main fleet will remain in the shadows nearby. Have a good journey, Lady Stratus."
Looking at the guard's back, Moira felt dirty. She had come here full of hope to gain preferential treatment. And what did she get? Auxiliary troops? She would have to ask the talkative captain what kind of beast this was.
As she settled into the passenger seat, admiring the views of the sunlit hemisphere, Moira allowed herself to smile. Yes, the Emperor was quite a character. Most likely, one of the former Jedi – many had left their precious Order at the start of the war. And, like all Jedi, he was blind in his arrogance.
Few knew on Jabiim itself, let alone beyond its borders, that the reserves of minerals would actually decline in the next twenty to thirty years to a level typical for any ordinary planet in the galaxy. And Jabiim would turn into a useless lump of dirt. However, by then, the Empire would have invested enough credits to ensure the population could find other work after the mines closed.
Moira would certainly see to it.
As soon as the shackles were removed, the captive, no longer held back by anything, collapsed onto the floor in a heap. Her arms and legs barely obeyed – it seemed that since her capture on Jabiim, she hadn't taken a single independent step.
Somehow crawling with her hands, the girl shook her lush mane and got to her feet. Standing on trembling limbs, shyly covering her tattered old Jedi robe, she looked around like a cornered animal. Then, noticing the figure sitting on the throne and rightly judging who was in charge, she said with a slight hint of defiance:
"Who are you? What is happening?"
The figure, with a wave of his hand, effortlessly overcame her resistance and lifted the girl into the air. Helplessly flailing, she approached the robed figure.
"How curious," said the one called Emperor, after the Jedi, like a billboard, made a full rotation around her axis before his eyes. "Indeed – a wonderful specimen."
"I have a name," the girl flared up. She tried to concentrate...
"And I know it, Zul Kyss," the follinka felt her limbs grow cold. "If you try to use your pheromones, I will tear you to pieces. Am I making myself clear?"
The former Padawan, feeling her bones crackle, quickly nodded. The force holding her disappeared, and the girl fell to the floor, gasping for air.
"You have potential," the Emperor rumbled. "You came so close to the Dark Side..."
"I will never serve the Sith!" the girl declared dramatically. "I'd rather die!"
"Do you see a single Sith here?" the one on the throne asked coldly.
"You," she pointed accusingly at her interlocutor. "I feel the Darkness in you."
"As do I in you," he reasoned. "Life forces us to cast aside the absurd rules and beliefs that are crammed into our heads from birth. Don't you feel that on the brink of death, there on Jabiim, by drawing on the energy of the Dark Side, you became stronger?"
"A momentary weakness!"
"Then why do you continue to do it?"
The question stumped the Padawan.
Aggressive and stubborn, she had been assigned to Master Jedi Glaive for training more than five years ago. Her teacher died while investigating the cause of the destruction of a Gungan colony by separatist chemical weapons – he fell victim to the mercenary Durge, from whom she herself barely escaped. The monstrous scars on her back from his weapon still ached – even though more than half a year had passed since they appeared. The follinka guessed that these were echoes of phantom pain, but she couldn't do anything about it.
And then the real hell began.
Along with other students who had lost their mentors during the war, she joined the "Padawan Squad." And they were sent to Jabiim.
Zul shuddered as the image of that perpetually rainy, slush-covered planet appeared in her memory. The rain, penetrating everywhere, so cold that a mere glance at it made the body tremble.
It wasn't long before the command of a huge military contingent fell on the shoulders of Zul and her squad mates – more experienced Jedi had died, struck down by Jabiimite "Nimbuses."
Her last mission was the defense of Cobalt Station. She spent forty days and nights on this world, constantly fighting and struggling for survival. Forty days and nights she walked on the edge, getting closer and closer to the Dark Side.
Her natural aggression served as her guide to cruelty on the battlefield. Like a deadly whirlwind, she crushed her enemies, reveling in the sensation of death. And there was no one around to stop her.
Except for an AT-AT walker, which, in its clumsy manner, simply didn't notice the follinka galloping beneath its feet.
She remembered that moment well. How, at the last second, she managed to raise at least a minimal defense. How she lay in the mud for several hours, unable to crawl to the surface, as every movement caused pain.
And then came the endless months of torture. The "Nimbuses," healing her wounds with bacta, continued to extract Republic secrets. And only when she resigned herself to the thought that she had been abandoned here, left to die, without even checking if she was alive, did the girl finally break.
She knew little – and most of it concerned plans and information that was long outdated.
However, even this attracted the attention of the locals. Well, she didn't mind. If this helped in any way to avenge the Republic. The Jedi Council. For this betrayal. For her suffering. For her deprivations...
"Revenge is a noble motive," the Emperor's voice seemed to speak directly in her head. "But what will happen when you satisfy your hunger for vengeance? Not to mention that you will die if you go alone."
"That's my business!"
"You are mistaken," the Emperor rose from his seat. A small hologram of the galaxy appeared between them.
"There are over one hundred and eighty million star systems in the Celestial River," he reminded her. "Of these, only a third are currently involved in the war in one way or another. However, two-thirds of the galaxy are afflicted by bloodshed. Millions of sentient beings are exterminating each other. And all because of the fault of the Republic's rulers and the Jedi Council. They overlooked the return of the Sith. They failed to put an end to it when it was necessary. The result is a war that is only gaining momentum, with hundreds of worlds and billions of dead already in ruins. Even more are destitute and wounded."
"I don't care about them," the girl snorted.
"You are mistaken," the Emperor swept the hologram aside, causing it to disappear. "We, the Force-sensitive, are not born to waste our time contemplating the Force and acting at its command. We, you, I, all who serve my Empire – are born because we must bring peace and order to this galaxy."
"That's impossible," the girl declared. "The galaxy is vast..."
"That's exactly what the Republic representatives said when they refused aid to Jabiim, suffering from epilepsy," the Emperor remarked. "And how many more such 'Jabiims' have there been? How many times have the Senate's corruption and the Order's political impotence led to collapse and conflict?"
The girl pondered. Yes, there was some truth in his logic. How had she herself not noticed before that it was precisely the Council and the Republic that were to blame for what was happening?! Yes, perhaps not directly, but indirectly – they had started this war. They had allowed worlds to secede that should have been returned to the Republic from the very beginning, no matter what. Yes, perhaps this would have caused discontent among the Republic's citizens – but peace, at the cost of a little, for the sake of more... For such a thing, it would have been worth breaking centuries-old inert traditions and launching a preemptive strike against the separatist leaders as soon as they appeared, before they had even created the Confederacy.
"Perhaps so," the girl said cautiously. "But the Order is fighting precisely to end this war."
"Really? Then why are no strikes being made against key separatist worlds? Where their main factories and docks are located. Why isn't Count Dooku being hunted? And why is the Council doing nothing concrete to search for a Sith in the Senate?"
"A Sith in the Senate?" the follinka exclaimed in horror.
"Yes," the Emperor said confidently. "Didn't the Council inform all members of the Order about Count Dooku's words to Obi-Wan Kenobi on Geonosis? The Dark Lord of the Sith is manipulating this conflict from both sides. His goal is to crush the Republic and the Jedi Order. Mine is to take the best Jedi and reveal the truth to them. To show that the Force is indivisible. And each of us can achieve unprecedented power by maintaining the Balance between the Dark and Light sides of the Force within ourselves. And only then will we have enough strength to put an end to the thousand-year confrontation between the Sith and the Jedi that is tearing the galaxy apart. Only then, by uniting the galaxy under my rule, can we put an end to future bloodshed. This is my mission. And I offer you to join it. To become better than you were. To uncover the secrets that the Jedi Council has hidden from you and others. To realize your true potential."
Zul opened her mouth to say, "This must be reported to the Council."
And she faltered.
Which Council? The very one that had considered her dead for so long? The one that had made no attempt to retrieve the bodies of fallen heroes from this dirty, wet planet?
The Council didn't care about them. They were just expendable material for worthless politics. For incompetents who sent others to slaughter without even bothering to properly train the troops. If there had been more "Juggernauts" on Jabiim instead of repulsor and walker technology, they would have reached the capital and crushed the nationalists!
The Hutt Council! The Hutt Republic! Let them burn and suffer as she had suffered!
"I suggest we look at it from a different perspective," she said indifferently. The Emperor seemed to look at her with interest. "That's why you're talking to me, isn't it? You want to recruit me into your service."
"You are shrewd," a chuckle came from under the Emperor's mask. "I give credit to those who know their worth and are not afraid to do what is required. You are one of those intelligent beings, aren't you? Can you think for yourself?"
For the first time in her twenty-odd years, Kyss felt that someone incredibly powerful, vested with authority, had paid attention to her. Not just as a fry darting in a pond among others like it. But as a person.
Zul listened to the Force for a moment. It seemed to be in a state of confusion itself, not knowing where to direct its adept. It was as if the Force feared to reveal the future. The follinka snorted irritably.
The Light Side was cowardly. The Light Side was blind. It alone was the guarantee of defeat. It was no accident that the Order could not detect the Sith Lord right under its nose.
But the rage of the Dark Side... Yes, that was a weapon that was always available and always ready to help. She had learned this on Jabiim, and she was not ready to give up this knowledge. Not for any cakes.
"Let's assume that service to an organization capable of crushing Jedi and the Republic like slugs is of interest to me," the girl said. "But I'm not going to be a pawn in someone's hands."
"Believe me, my little one," the Emperor's mask's light filters flashed like black diamonds, "you will be rewarded justly."
Kyss felt a chill pierce her at these words. But perhaps this was a sign of power? A power so great that it sometimes broke through a mortal shell. Which Jedi could compete with such a being?
Despite the comical appearance of her tattered, dirty, and torn Jedi robe, the girl knelt before the Emperor.
"I swear allegiance to your teachings..."
Waking brought pain.
Celesta felt as if her body had turned to wood, and warmth barely filled her. But it gradually grew, pushing out the frost.
Her consciousness was still clouded, and colorful spots danced before her eyes.
"You've finally deigned to wake up," an old, grumbling voice sounded in her head.
The girl moved her hand with a soft groan.
"I hoped you would die during the years of stasis," she admitted.
"I am a Sith Lord, foolish child," the spirit of Karness Muur reminded her sarcastically. "I cannot die."
Her mind filled with a slight pain. The ancient Sith was again trying to show who was in charge of her head.
Celesta, thankfully, as her strength returned exponentially, suppressed further attempts to control her body with an effort of will.
"You can savor this small victory, Jedi," Muur said mockingly, "but in the end, the victory will still be mine."
"I heard that when I first acquired your Talisman, Sith," Celesta replied defiantly. "And, as you can see, you are still locked in my mind."
In response, she heard a malicious laugh.
"It won't be for long, Jedi. My followers are already here."
The girl, with a sinking heart, turned to the Great Force. Embracing all the surrounding space with its help, she stated with an inner groan that this time the Sith was right.
They were on a ship – a huge starship, clearly a warship – numerous gun emplacements spoke for themselves. Celesta felt the presence of a large concentration of Force in the same compartment. And, as if mocking her sacrifice, the possessor of this Force clearly did not belong to the Jedi Order.
"Oh, Zane, you didn't keep your word..."
A sad thought sent her back to the past.
All her conscious life, she had served the Light Side of the Force. As a member of the Jedi Order, as an agent of a secret organization within the Order – the Covenant. She dedicated herself to serving the Covenant after her entire family perished in a conflict with the Sith. The Covenant was a secret group of Jedi who set themselves the goal of remaining vigilant, destroying any Dark Side artifacts to prevent the return of the Sith to the galaxy. A truly noble goal, as only by destroying knowledge of the Dark Side could the Jedi protect the galaxy from further destruction.
Her last mission was to track down Muur's Talisman artifact, once belonging to the Dark Lord of the Sith Karness Muur, capable of turning all living things into dangerous creatures – Rakghouls, and controlling them. A dangerous invention of the ancient Sith, capable of turning the galaxy into a graveyard of venomous and infected Rakghouls in an instant. It simply had to be found and destroyed.
In addition, the Covenant had set her the goal of finding and bringing to them for trial the fugitive Padawan Zane, accused of numerous Padawan murders on Taris.
And, without exaggeration, it can be said that she almost completed both missions. She found the Padawan and learned the fate of the artifact, which had been obtained by the Mandalorians and taken to Jebble. Following the path of the invaders, who undoubtedly intended to use the artifact to create an army of creatures capable of turning people into their own kind with a single bite or scratch, Celesta concluded that Zane might not be guilty of what the Covenant accused him of. And in the future, this assumption was only confirmed – Carrick valued any life too much, even the fates of the Mandalorians who sowed Chaos in the galaxy. In pursuit of preventing the artifact from falling into the hands of villains, Celesta decided to become its victim. Because only she had enough strength and inner control to keep the Sith locked in her mind and prevent him from consuming the galaxy, turning its entire population into monsters controlled by the Dark Side.
Only one means could help in those circumstances.
Zane placed her in Dreypa's Ark – a Sith stasis chamber, promising to deliver the device along with Celesta to the Covenant base, where the Jedi were supposed to help her. Celesta, using the fact that her vision had partially recovered, managed to see what was still in the Ark. A Sith artifact, where she had spent... Hutt, how long had she been asleep?
"Good morning, Master Morn," she heard a voice. It came from the only living being on the ship. A being with immense potential in the Force. But, clearly not an adept of the Light Side...
"How long? How long have we... How long have I... Been inside?" Her voice broke, and Muur, deciding to mock her, began to confuse her thoughts. The Jedi forced him into the farthest corner of her mind with an effort of will.
"Four thousand years," said the stranger, appearing next to her. The woman, whose vision had returned to normal, saw before her a being clad head to toe in armor, over which was worn a black and silver robe. Glancing at his belt, she saw the hilt of a lightsaber hanging there. "Give or take a few years."
"Oh, Great Force," she pleaded. FOUR THOUSAND YEARS! What had happened in that time?! Why hadn't Zane kept his word?! How could the artifact still be on her?! Who had betrayed her? Carrick? The Covenant? Or perhaps the Mandalorians had captured her and held her prisoner all this time? But then who is this...
"Calm down, Celesta," the armored sentient advised. "You've been in stasis for too long..."
The girl felt that her momentary panic had cost too much. Muur, taking advantage of her confusion, managed to break through the mental barriers. The blood-red ghost of the ancient Sith appeared on the other side of her prison.
"I, Karness Muur, one of the first Sith Lords!" he proclaimed triumphantly. "You are strong, stranger. Crush her mind so that the body belongs to me, and your reward will be indescribable!"
Celesta, in horror, tried to restore her mental blocks, but it seemed the Sith had managed to intercept control. All her efforts had gone to waste – her defenses had fallen, and to restore them required more Force than she could command now.
"Chewing cardboard without bread," the unknown said with feigned surprise. "Why are you so insolent, old man?"
Celesta felt the owner of the talisman falter. Their mental connection literally screamed his wounded pride and indignation. And a suspicion arose in the girl that, although her savior was not a strict adherent of the Light – through the flashes of the Dark Side swirling around him, she still felt no small amount of light in his aura – he was not a follower of the Sith doctrine either. So, perhaps he could help!
"Don't listen to him!" she said. "He wants to use the power of his artifact, which turns all sentient beings into monsters – Rakghouls –" she touched the jewel-like object on her neck, "– to rule the galaxy..."
"That's why there are no sentient beings on this ship except me. But as for ruling the galaxy, old man," the stranger turned his head towards the ghost, "I must disappoint you. I don't need competitors."
"Pathetic pup!" the Sith roared, waving his hands. Sparks crackled at his fingertips...
And in the next second, the ghost was plastered to the bulkhead as the stranger raised his hand. Celesta felt in horror as streams of Force – Dark and Light sides – flowed around him, turning into visible gray clumps of energy, like stakes, piercing the ghost's body like a pack of hounds, crucifying him like an ancient god.
The Sith snarled. The former agent of the Covenant caught that the ghost was not just angry. He literally radiated waves of rage, confusion, excitement, and… fear. She simply couldn't believe her senses. For the first time in all the time they had been together, the mighty Sith was afraid of something! Not just an abstract threat, but a specific living person!
Is it possible that after four thousand years, the adepts of the Force have learned to fight such manifestations of the Dark Side? Incredible!
Meanwhile, ignoring the curses pouring from the ghost, the stranger approached him closely. Reaching out his hand, he GRABBED THE GHOST BY THE THROAT!
Celesta couldn't believe her eyes! Never before had she not only not seen – but not even heard of such an handling of the Force.
"This galaxy is mine, old fart," the sentient in armor said quietly. Celesta saw how his body began to glow red, as if a supervolcano had awakened inside him. And at the same time, the contrast of the ghost itself slowly, almost imperceptibly, began to dim.
"What are you doing, madman!?" Muur shouted. "My power is beyond your comprehension! If you continue to absorb it, you will be torn apart! No one has such willpower to force me…"
"Unfortunately for you," the stranger said in the same colorless voice, "I have an excellent teacher. Compared to whom, you and your friends – the Exiles – are just kindergarten, seventh group."
"You fool!" Celesta overcame her weakness, getting out of the ark. Whoever this stranger was, she had to be on guard. She just needed to regain her strength… "I possess all the secrets of the Sith! I can give you immense power!"
"And what can you offer me?" the unknown asked with a smirk.
"My knowledge of the Dark Side is boundless!" the ghost began to seduce his tormentor. "I command Sith magic, alchemy. No one has understood the healing methods of the Dark Side of the Force as deeply as I have! You need them – to get rid of your ugliness! You have suffered from the influence of the Dark Side! And only my knowledge can heal you!"
"Is that all?" boredom appeared in the unknown's voice. "I have XoXaan's holocron – and there's plenty of that stuff. Offer me something else, and I'll let you exist!"
"XoXaan is just a child compared to my power!" the Sith continued. "I can tell you about the hiding places of my comrades, where great treasures and knowledge are hidden!"
"My patience is running out…"
"Sorzus Syn!" the ghost, who had become almost transparent, shouted hysterically! "I know where her holocron is hidden!"
"And I have it too," his interlocutor shrugged. "A fake, though…"
"She hid the real one in her laboratory on Ziost!" Muur no longer shouted, he howled. "I know where it is – my memory holds many secrets, which I will share with you!"
"Remulus Dreypa!" On behalf of the creator of her prison, Celesta shuddered. "How to find his ark?!"
"Here it is!" the ghost said, spinning his eyes in shock, pointing to the open maw of the device where the Jedi Master had spent the last four thousand years.
"Dreypa created another one, I suspect, just before he left Korriban with his followers," the one who had captured the ghost clenched his free hand into a fist, causing the ghost to literally shriek. Celesta, unable to withstand the fluctuations in the Force, tried in vain to drown out the screams by covering her ears. In vain. It seemed Muur's pain pulsed in her head.
"Yes, yes, yes!" the ghost nodded. "You're right, I remember! There was another one! Remulus equipped them with beacons that work on the same frequency…"
"Why?!"
"So that we, those who remained on Korriban, could follow him and enjoy his triumph. He intended to destroy the Republic and the Jedi…"
"What else can you offer me?"
"All my knowledge!" Muur's whisper was a plea. But, judging by the ghost's diminishing presence in the Force, his moans interested no one.
The ancient Sith himself understood this.
And, before Morn could do anything, she felt the sharp claws of the amulet release her neck. A triumphant grin appeared on Muur's face as the artifact soared into the air, heading towards the stranger's head.
"What an old fool," the stranger said in an emotionless voice. With his free hand, he grabbed the amulet so that the sound of crushing metal reached Morn's ears, who was in a semi-conscious state.
"It can't be," Karness gasped. "This is inexplicable. Save my life, and I will serve you."
"And that's not in my plans," Celesta felt that the unknown had turned into a black hole that ruthlessly absorbed the remnants of the howling ghost. His figure began to glow unbearably red. Waves of rage emanated from him in all directions, causing Celesta almost physical pain. Every cell of her body screamed in pain, forcing the girl to lose her orientation in space and fall to her knees, clutching the edge of the ark.
Her body burned as if it had been dipped in lava. Every piece of her, even her hair, exuded streams of pain that clouded her consciousness. The former agent of the Covenant felt ready to fall into oblivion.
And then everything went silent…
Muur's energy disappeared, leaving behind only an unpleasant aftertaste. As if she had just eaten rotten meat…
Her head, as if made of cast iron, drooped to the floor. Colorful dots danced before her eyes. The girl felt bouts of nausea. However, her stomach had been empty for the last four thousand years, so the spasms arched her, forcing her to expel bile and indecent sounds.
In the midst of this activity, she heard a metallic object hit the floor with a dull thud.
With her last strength, the girl lifted her eyes from the floor, calling upon the Force to clear her mind.
Right in front of her, about half a meter away, lay a metal mask. The very one she had seen on the stranger's face. And golden pieces, in which she recognized with inexpressible relief, were pieces of Muur's talisman.
Then the hems of his cloak appeared in her field of vision. Her feet gave way to knees – her liberator knelt before her. Celesta felt cold metal fingers touch her chin. Against her will, her head was thrown back.
The girl barely managed to suppress a scream.
The face of the one who had destroyed her curse was terrible. Covered with pieces of melted skin, rough exposed muscles, dried blood crusts, lacking nasal cartilage, covered with whitish scars, with disfigured lips, the face of a man looked at her. Or rather, of someone who had once been one. And from the depths of the hood, two ice shards, speckled with amber dots, looked at her as if illuminated by an inner fire.
Celesta tried to pull away from him, but the man grabbed her by her long braid with his free hand and pulled her closer. Their faces almost touched, and she felt his warm, pleasant breath. And a slight tickle in her brain…
The Jedi tried intuitively to prevent his intrusion into her mind. But it seemed her weakened body could not resist. And besides, the longer this terrible man was in her head, the faster her headache subsided. And the darker the Dark Side swirled around him. And her fear of this creature grew.
"Don't resist, Celesta, I mean you no harm," the man said quietly. "Muur just couldn't leave you out of spite without harming your brain. Fortunately, good Uncle Karness left me a lot of useful things…"
Celesta felt streams of Force pour into her numb body. The fire and pain receded, replaced by relaxation and coolness…
She was inexorably drawn to sleep, but she tried with all her might not to succumb. The Jedi Master understood perfectly well that her sluggish state must be dictated by the influence of this man on her. Having escaped one captivity, she did not intend to fall into a second.
Morn slowly reached for her belt. Thank the Force, her lightsaber was in place.
Trying not to attract attention, she unhooked the weapon and pointed its emitter away from herself…
"Just try it," she was hit with a chill. The exposed skin instantly covered with goosebumps. "You won't kill me, but you'll greatly disappoint me."
Feeling that her strength had been restored and her head had cleared, Celesta, at the same time, felt immense fatigue in the man sitting opposite her.
With two strong and sharp movements, she broke free from his grip and, breaking the distance, activated her weapon, pointing it at the man who continued to sit on the floor.
"You are a Sith!" she declared. "The Dark Side leaves such marks after prolonged use!"
"Roll asphalt into rolls!" the man said. He slowly raised his gaze to her. Celesta looked at the ugly face again without fear. And could not help but exclaim.
Almost before her eyes, the disfigured features disappeared. Scars, scabs, melted skin – all of it slowly but surely softened, blurred, covering the damaged areas of the skin. Not believing her eyes, Morn enveloped herself in the Force to interrupt any possible attack on her mind.
However, the man still sat on the floor. She silently watched as he took off the hoods of his cloak and armor from his equally ugly skull, and the metamorphoses his face was undergoing spread to his skull as well. Celesta could bet that his whole body was similarly disfigured. And now – it was healing!
In the Covenant's records, there was information that Sith could use the Dark Side for healing. But Celesta had never before witnessed such a bacchanalia of Darkness.
Finally, after a long time, the man – she had no doubt about it now – stood up, brushing invisible dust from his robe with a simple gesture.
"This is much better," he said, looking somewhere at the wall next to her. The girl cast a quick glance, noticing a large mirror embedded in the bulkhead. Only now, with an unclouded gaze, did she realize that she was in a spacious medical bay of a spaceship. But this changed little – now she had an opponent standing before her. And it was Celesta's duty to destroy any manifestation of the Dark Side.
However, looking at this relatively young, slightly elongated, angular face, with a strong chin, a straight nose, completely hairless, like a newborn baby, the Jedi Master could not find the strength within herself to rush into battle.
The devastation of Celesta's homeworld during the wars with the Sith led her to hate them with all her heart. She sincerely believed that serving the Covenant – despite its corruption – was a good thing. The empty vigil of the Jedi High Council in her time was the trigger that pushed her towards the Covenant. The eradication of any manifestation of the Dark Side is the key to peaceful coexistence in the galaxy. And for this, all means are good.
Four thousand years, which flashed by for her like a single moment, her impatient, rude, and sometimes arrogant temper had not disappeared. It had only dulled for a while – while she was weak and could not control the situation. But now… the Jedi Master, having rid herself of her burden, thought with regret how unfairly she had acted during her brief collaboration with Zane Kerrik and his assistant. Not an hour passed without her insulting them. But only after four thousand years, realizing that everyone she had once known and loved had long since turned to dust, scattered by the winds across the galaxy, the girl, looking into the face of a man enveloped by the Dark and Light sides, began to ponder.
Four thousand years ago, she would have rushed into attack without hesitation and would not have regretted anything, just to finish off this monster. He had directly stated that Muur was his rival in conquering the galaxy. Jedi do not follow such principles – only those whose hearts are indelibly distorted by the teachings of the Sith strive for power.
And at the same time, when her mind was not clouded by the Sith's machinations, she clearly realized – her sense of justice, her compassion for life – had not disappeared. She could not kill without necessity. Even when she was a simple agent, encountering a man infected with the Rakghoul Plague on Taris, she did not dare to take his life until he mutated and became a danger to others.
She had a pragmatic view of life. Evil breeds evil, aggression breeds aggression. Intolerance breeds retaliatory measures. Oppression breeds rebellion. Her iron will and devotion to the cause of protecting the galaxy from the influence of the Sith, in the end, led her to captivity for four thousand years. From which, as from the burden of Muur's Talisman, this man freed her. Then, taking on a heavy burden, she weighed all the pros and cons and decided to merge with the artifact, as she believed that only she could resist the influence of the ghost and his vile talisman. For this reason, she did not allow Kerrik to sacrifice himself on Jebble, taking the Talisman away from him.
For the same reason, when she was able to overcome the influence of the artifact in the Mandalorian Ice Fortress on Jebble, she voluntarily agreed to go into stasis – such a threat to the galaxy had to be eliminated. Celesta felt upset, realizing that Kerrik, for some reason, could not keep his word and deliver her to the Covenant's base. Why – she had to find out. Fortunately, she was now free.
For her, there was no such concept as "friendship." Celesta never became close to anyone. For her, there were only two categories of sentient beings – "enemies," to whom she was merciless, and "allies," which included those who could impress her. Those she could trust. And if the number of the former steadily decreased, then the latter category… now it simply did not exist.
"So, are we fighting, or are we going to chat?" The man forcefully pulled the mask to himself, securing it to his belt. "I think you have some questions."
And he was damn right.
"Who are you?"
"Jedi Master Rick Dougan," he made a playful bow. "A member of the Order's High Council."
"Liar," the girl pointed her blade at him accusingly. "Only Masters can join the Council."
"Oh, this brave new world," the man chuckled, stroking his bald head. "Much has changed in four thousand years. But, believe me – I was no less surprised than you. Especially considering that the Council gave in to the will of the Sith Lord to break their traditions so much."
Celesta felt her world crumble. Jedi serve a Sith? That's simply impossible! And for all this, she spent so many years in freezing, like bantha fillet?!
"To the Order's credit, I can say that they don't know that the galaxy is controlled by the Sith," Dougan added. Seeing the bewilderment and confusion on Celesta's face, he explained the reason for his remark. "Don't forget that I was in your head. You are an open book to me, shadow."
"Don't flatter yourself, Sith," she growled. "You took advantage of my momentary weakness."
"You know, that's an unfair accusation," mockery flashed across the man's face. "Yes, I'm not a staunch supporter of the Light Side. Nor the Dark. But you could have at least thanked me, that I am the first one in four thousand years who decided to relieve you of your burden. You're welcome, by the way."
Morn quietly gritted her teeth, letting the barb pass by.
"I don't want to fight you, Celesta," the Sith said. And in his voice, the girl heard a sincere desire to avoid battle. "I contain the power of Karnes Muur and Exar Kun. Plus, I literally absorbed one of the Sources of the Force yesterday and familiarized myself with a couple of holocrons. If it comes to an open confrontation – I will spread you across the entire Universe so thinly that even midi-chlorians will need a microscope to examine your remains."
She understood this perfectly – the girl knew Muur's power well. And historical chronicles unequivocally spoke of Kun as one of the most terrible threats to the galaxy, for whose murder almost all available forces of the Order had to be involved. What to expect from a man who, before her eyes, dealt with the ghost of one of the Exiles so easily that even she could not imagine it. For some reason, she did not want to doubt his words that he had gained Kun's power.
"How can the Jedi not know about the existence of the Sith?" she demanded an answer.
"Because they have shit instead of brains in their heads," the man spread his hands. "In your time, the Jedi relaxed considerably – now it has become truly criminal negligence. Even more so – a Sith leads the Republic and meets daily with representatives of the High Council. And they are still looking for a cat in a black room, not suspecting that it has long been in plain sight."
"You insult the wisdom of the Council!" the girl flared up. "Yes, none of us are perfect, but this…"
"You know, I can just open my mind to you and show you what's what," the man offered. "I'll tell you how the Sith will completely destroy the Order, plunge the galaxy into terror and atrocities for decades. And it will continue for a good hundred years – with varying degrees of intensity. And in the end, the entire civilized galaxy will prefer to live under the rule of the Empire than to endure constant squabbles and deprivations."
"How do you know this, abomination?" Celesta could not help but insult him. "Sith cannot see the future."
"Well, I'm not a Sith," he simply replied. "And not a Jedi. Not anymore."
"And what do you call yourself?"
"Immortal Emperor of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, in whose system you are," he explained coldly. "On board one of my ships, by the way. I had to evacuate the crew so that Muur couldn't turn them into Rakghouls. Or so that you wouldn't be tempted to weaken me in a similar way."
Celesta was silent. She felt that the man was telling the truth. But her innate stubbornness did not allow her to accept what she heard.
"You told Muur that you were going to conquer the galaxy," she recalled.
"Basically, yes," Morn was surprised by the ordinary tone with which he admitted his intention to plunge the inhabited worlds into chaos. "Either me – or the Sith."
"I don't see much difference."
"That doesn't mean there isn't one. You see, I'm open to new things, and therefore I believe it's time to stop using the Force for internal strife. The teachings of the Je'daii, in my opinion, are the most correct. Therefore, in my Empire, Force-sensitives do not serve ephemeral ideals. My Imperial Knights use all their capabilities to eliminate threats before they gain strength and threaten mass deaths."
"Sounds more than reasonable," Celesta's pragmatic nature echoed the Emperor's statement.
"As you can see, while the Order rests on its laurels of the past, unable to notice the growing threat right under its nose, those who are not indifferent to the fate of the galaxy have to act."
"In your person?"
"And how am I worse than what could be? In my Empire, there are always jobs, no hunger, slavery, or oppression. And no one sits idly by while evil gains strength. As you can see – I don't consider it shameful to check an ancient legend about a hero of the past who defended the galaxy from the threat of the Rakghoul Plague. Note – I, the one you are almost covering with filth. Not your vaunted Jedi Order."
"You needed Muur's power," she objected. "Not me."
"You are mistaken. It's two Hutts dissolved in one vat of acid. His power, which I need to match the greatest evil in this galaxy. And one of the best Jedi Shadows in the history of the galaxy. Believe me, there are still a huge number of threats in the galaxy from various radical sects, to eliminate which your help would be useful to me."
"Do you think I will help you destroy the Jedi Order, which I have served all my life?" Celesta said defiantly.
"The Order will be destroyed without me," Dougan shook his head. "I'm trying to save everyone I can. Join me, and together we can save many more lives than if I acted alone. I have a strong feeling that you can improve even the best plan."
"And what will happen if I refuse?" the girl narrowed her eyes.
"You're not a foolish lady. I'll let you go – and it won't be long before the Republic comes here, destroying everything that has been created by hard work. I am not a bloodthirsty animal, so if you refuse," he looked pointedly at the ark. Celesta, following his gaze, instinctively shuddered. No, she would not return to stasis. Not for any cakes.
"I will help you defeat the Sith," she said after thinking. She deactivated her weapon and returned it to her belt. "But my blade will never be stained with Jedi blood."
"I'm fine with that," the Emperor smiled. "Believe me, it won't be long before you change your mind."
The confidence with which the man said this made Celesta shudder once again. What horror had happened in the galaxy, if to save it, it had to be plunged into the chaos of war?