"I am glad to welcome you, Emperor," as soon as the Zakuulan shuttle touched its bottom to the permacrete surface of a huge man-made habitat for sentient beings, the head of the "Incom" corporation hurried to leave his small retinue and meet me personally.
"Likewise, Kat," I shook the man's hand, looking around. "And you've settled in nicely here…"
Once, this place was called the Endless Swamp – for its boundless expanses of water, surrounded on all sides by lush vegetation teeming with various creatures. Now, the natural landscape had given way to a man-made one.
The Old World – the first city that appeared on Zakuul during Valkorian's reign, during my first visit, was a backwater that had not withstood the test of time. Once, the scum of the Eternal Empire – criminals, outcasts, refugees – settled here. The idle Zakuulans living in the metropolis built on top of the Old World structures – the Spire – paid no attention to these categories of the population.
But now a completely different picture opened before me.
The first settlement sparkled with new colors. A large part of the buildings underwent significant reconstruction – instead of huge residential complexes, the surface of Zakuul was covered with monumental factory buildings, hangars, and warehouses, surrounded by endless permacrete fields. When Nadia claimed that the xi-char had improved the place after their arrival, I expected many things – but not this paradise for an industrialist's eyes.
The spire occupied several hundred square kilometers.
And the Old City, lying at its foot – several tens of thousands. And all of this had now been turned into an endless factory complex. Moreover, the structures of the "Haor Chall" corporation differed significantly in their streamlined appearance from the part of the city that had fallen under the control of the Incom people.
Dalig, on the other hand, preferred characteristic human architecture in his complex – rectangular buildings, spacious hangars, a territory fenced around the perimeter, on which dispatch towers rose in abundance.
"We had time to adapt such a huge space for ourselves," the man smiled.
"The main thing is that it's useful for business. Speaking of which. How are things with our project?"
The man smiled.
"Better than one could have imagined at the very beginning. Allow me to demonstrate..."
The entourage of the general director bowed respectfully, greeting me and my companions. Unlike the Incom people, my retinue was quite small. Celesta, Oli, Alpha, and Balda, plus a few guards. And R3, rolling quietly behind everyone, who had finally returned to his master after so much time. Modest, but tasteful. It is on the territory of the Republic that I am just an ordinary Jedi – one of many. Here, however...
On Zakuul, everything feels different.
This world is filled with the Force, which harmonizes with my own power. And, as a consequence – to grasp the mood of the surrounding sentient beings requires only the slightest effort on my part.
My ego was slightly tickled by the rays of sincere devotion that literally radiated from the engineers and designers of "Incom," silently accompanying their boss like shadows towards the main hangar, which stretched out at the edge of a spacious landing pad.
And, as soon as the massive gates parted, I saw the holy of holies of the corporation.
The prototype testing ground.
The central part of the covered testing ground was occupied by two squadrons of starfighters, the sight of which made my heart ache with sweet bliss.
"You actually made them," I said.
"Not only made them, Emperor," Dalig was one of the last to learn about the background of what was happening. However, despite my concerns, he treated it indifferently. What's the big deal, he just changed employers. What difference does it make who finances your company if the previous customer decided to reduce the volume of purchases? – "But also significantly improved the initial prototype."
"I am eager to hear the details," I approached the nearest "X-wing." Hmm, it seems Kat took my drawing as a categorical wish for the hull shape. And therefore, before my eyes stood an almost exact replica of Wedge Antilles' favorite ship.
"Before you is the basic model," explained the head of "Incom." "It is registered in the company's records as T-65. Among ourselves, we call it an 'X-wing'," hearing my satisfied grunt, Dalig smiled and continued. "A single-seat multi-purpose starfighter. An evolutionary development of the ARC-170 and Z-95 'Headhunter' projects. It has four laser cannons located at the wingtips, which unfold into a characteristic cross shape when transitioning to combat mode. To achieve cruising speed at sub-light speeds, the wings still have to be folded into a horizontal position. It is equipped with four ion engines, as well as a hyperdrive. Like the ARC-170, to control the navigation system and eliminate minor malfunctions, the starfighter has an astromech droid in a special socket behind the pilot's seat – R2 or R3 series will fit."
Kat glanced meaningfully at my astromech droid. Well, I understand.
"And all in just half a year," I shook my head. No, a truly pleasant surprise! In the original, this very X-wing took twenty years to design. And here...
"I recall asking you to take care of the placement of missile armament and deflectors," I noted, turning my head towards the general director of Incom, observing that he had not changed his mood at all. It seemed he hadn't finished his brief presentation.
"The deflector generators are integrated into the design," he confirmed my suspicions. "We spent a lot of time solving the missile issue. In the end, we had to abandon their placement on the wings – this leads to a decrease in aerodynamics and an overload of the fuselage. Therefore, the chief designer of the 'X-wing' line," he pointed to a middle-aged man with an imposing beard standing next to him, "Zki Roel, decided to place the launch tubes under the fighter's belly."
Without much ceremony, I crouched down, following the direction indicated by the head of the corporation. Hmm, indeed. Under the belly of the "X-wing" were two recessed shafts, which at first could be mistaken for air intakes for atmospheric flights. Two bulges, resembling halves of cones, embedded at the edges into the fuselage, gave no hint that they were launch tubes for deadly weapons.
"The fighter can carry five assault missiles with modified seeker heads for each launch tube," Kat continued. "In addition, the lower part of the hull, where the launch tubes and ammunition are located, is a removable module. If desired, the X-wing can carry up to six proton torpedoes, or four super-heavy baradium bombs."
"So, instead of a heavy fighter, you developed a universal platform – a fighter-bomber," I summarized.
"The ARC-170, like the 'Headhunter,' made us understand that creating narrowly specialized strike craft is a dead end," the designer intervened in the conversation. "And I decided to develop a universal platform with a removable module. This significantly simplifies maintenance – it takes only four minutes to prepare the fighter for takeoff. Two of which are for installing the removable armament module."
"That sounds extremely optimistic," I admitted.
"Our ship is fully autonomous," Kat continued. "Unlike the Sienar interceptors, our pilot can leave their ship and survive in space for a little over five hours. Also, the cockpit has a cargo compartment where up to twenty kilograms of personal belongings can be placed. I'm not even talking about the cockpit ergonomics and the simplicity of the control panel. If necessary, the ship doesn't need an aircraft carrier – it can make hyperspace jumps itself, and this will not affect the pilot's health."
"An excellent raider," I noted. "For hit-and-run tactics – you can't think of anything better."
"We hoped you would appreciate our efforts," the man smiled. "Of course, we are continuing to work on this model – in particular, we want to change the plating, without losing strength, but gaining in terms of lower mass. For now – we are working with what we have. But, the existing samples have passed the most demanding tests and have been rated by your subordinates with the highest class. Darth Malgus, Lady Atroxa, and Mistress Vett personally convinced themselves of the quality of our machines. By the way, I incurred Mr. Malgus's wrath by refusing to provide him with all available T-65 samples for his fleet until I received your approval."
"It's nothing," I grunted. "He'll survive."
I heard a restrained chuckle, the source of which was my student. Turning my gaze to her, I noticed that the girl instantly adopted a serious expression. Celesta, with poorly concealed interest, was examining the X-wings, painted in the color of space.
The guards alone are commendable – they stand calmly, on guard. I'll have to thank Ashara, since she's still on Zakuul, for such excellent servants. All of them – strong in the Force, perfectly trained in the use of lightsabers and the Force. To have such guardians is a true pleasure. And now that Sith magic has bound their minds to mine so tightly that they cannot even conceive of betraying the Empire or its leader, I feel somewhat calmer.
The Emperor is played by his retinue. And at this moment, having loyal Hands, followers, and guardians, one can confidently say that against the backdrop of those who stand behind me, my greatness and authority not only do not diminish but eclipse any other. Moira Stratus has already felt firsthand what the aura of the Immortal Emperor, amplified by his devoted servants, is like...
"And what about these machines?" I pointed to a squadron of fighters as black as night, externally resembling the notorious X-wings. But slightly smaller in size and with some differences in details.
"And this is our current project," Kat explained. He approached a jet-black fighter and patted its nose affectionately. "It is in the refinement stage. Its potential is enormous."
"Kat," I politely interrupted him. "What kind of modification is this?"
"Oh, this is a separate line of X-wings. We call them 'invisibles'."
It's good that I have a mask on my face. Otherwise, it would be funny to see the Emperor of Zakuul with wide eyes.
The fact is, in the Expanded Universe, there was an instance where "Incom" created "invisibles." These were X-wings whose hulls were made of a special material that scattered the scanning beams of enemy detection systems. The black coloring made the ships visually indistinguishable against the backdrop of space. Moreover, the creator significantly modified the propulsion system, so that the fuel decay products dissipated literally in the next second after being ejected from the nozzles.
"Our friends from 'Haor Chall'," Kat nodded towards the neighboring production complex, "gave us an excellent idea – to use fiberglass instead of the titanium and durasteel alloy used in ordinary fighters. The chief engineer of this project is Lana Kut," among the group accompanying the company's general director, there was only one girl. More precisely – a young woman, with regular features, dressed in an expensive office dress with a clasp bearing the updated "Incom" emblem – a black outline of an X-wing against the background of a schematic red planet. Hmm, it seems this fighter pleased its creators from the first minutes of its design, "she significantly reworked the original X-wing schematic. This version has no additional armament, and is almost a meter shorter than the standard model. At the same time, it possesses the most advanced scanning system in the galaxy. Furthermore, we managed to minimize ion radiation, so no one will be able to track our product by the traces of spent fuel. But there are drawbacks. So far, we have not managed to combine the deflector shield technology with the postulates of ship invisibility to sensors. We have encountered a number of problems that disrupt the ship's stealth. In particular, an active deflector field, a shot from an onboard energy weapon, or the use of an external communication system completely unmasks the ship to enemy sensors. But," seeing me return my gaze to the Death Star killer, Kat hurried to appear before my eyes again. "We are refining the project and are confident in its success. We need just a little time..."
"You have it, Kat," I admitted. "Proactive people in the service of the Zakuul Empire are the most precious resource. Your starfighters are perfection itself. Therefore, you should proceed with the production of ready-made X-wing variants immediately."
"In what volume?" Dalig practically beamed with satisfaction. Well, of course – to get such a wonderful product in such a short time. And without any complaints – to receive praise from the head of state.
"All that you can produce," a wave of whispers ran through the Incom people accompanying Kat. "And do not rush to solve the communication problem on the 'invisibles.' These ships will not be used by ordinary sentient beings."
And again, a wave of surprise. Even Oli and Celesta flared up with incomprehension in the Force. Well, no one expects me to discuss my decisions, do they?
"My sovereign," the head of the company said, his voice slightly changed by surprise. "Although we have a limited number of assembly lines here on Zakuul, we can still produce at least seven squadrons of X-wings per week. That's a huge volume. If we engage all of Incom's capacities – this number will increase tenfold. I do not dispute your wisdom, but we can simply produce too much equipment."
"Kat," I turned to the man. "The main thing is to produce. And pilots for these ships will be found. Be sure of that."
The Prelate met the distinguished guests at the entrance to the workshops.
The master had generously shared his plan with him – to partake in a work of art that "Haor Chall Engineering" was creating for the Eternal Zakuul Empire.
Therefore, in the sanctuaries that unenlightened humanoids called "workshops," members of the Xi Char order were preparing their creations for a supreme inspection.
Many in the galaxy considered their service to high-precision mechanical engineering, which for the xi-char race was akin to worshipping a deity, merely a contrived cover that allowed them to charge exorbitant prices to their clients.
Humanoids would never understand what it meant for their race, for their faith, to create perfect technology.
And here, on Zakuul, while examining the remnants of a long-dead world, studying samples of its technology, the Prelate encountered a worthy competitor for the first time in his life.
No, undoubtedly, the ancient technologies of Zakuul were inferior to modern analogues. Despite the absence of significant revolutionary progress in the galaxy over the last four thousand years, technology had still evolved. Computers improved information processing speed and calculation accuracy. Weapons became more deadly. Ships – faster.
However, one could not fail to note how skillfully the ancient sentient beings created their droids.
The Prelate knew how to acknowledge the triumphs of others. And therefore, the extremely carefully thought-out design of the ancient Zakuul technology commanded his respect. Yes, they were far from the xi-char themselves. But the quality of Zakuul's technology far surpassed what the leading droid manufacturers in the galaxy could offer. Therefore, the xi-char approached their mission with great reverence – to study and improve what could serve the Eternal Empire. And thus, the combat droids, previously created on Zakuul and in the Sith worlds, were now being given new life, becoming even more deadly to their enemies.
Rumors reached the order that they were not the only ones engaged in such work for the benefit of their new master.
Even though many years ago Raith Sienar stole a valuable technology from their workshops, which allowed him to optimize his own invention – the solar ionization generator – the leader of the xi-char no longer held a grudge against him. Only because the consequences for the unthinking youth were far more tragic than for themselves. The death of a parent not involved in the descendant's affairs is grief even by "Haor Chall" standards. Therefore, the Prelate considered revenge fulfilled and no more assassins came for Raith Sienar's life.
They had not seen each other for many years. The Prelate had already had the opportunity to study the Empire's modernized Sienar ships. And he had to admit that the time Raith spent in their workshops had benefited him. Yes, he was still far from the xi-char themselves. And yet, progress was evident. It was not for nothing that the master chose Sienar for the position of chief shipbuilder of the Eternal Empire. And, since the ships built by him were continuously arriving in the system, it meant that his work more than satisfied the Emperor.
Now, the Prelate himself had to answer to his client.
"The Xi Char are pleased to welcome you, master," said TS-97, the personal translator of the leader and spiritual mentor of the xi-char. "The Prelate conveys his joy at this reunion."
"Convey that I am also immensely glad to meet you personally," he understood the human language called "Galactic Common." But, spiritual tenets forbade him from communicating personally with other sentient beings who were not members of the Xi Char order. "I hope you will not disappoint me?"
"The Prelate informs that he is ready to proudly demonstrate the samples of xi-char art and assures that nothing like this can possibly exist on any planet in the galaxy."
The Emperor was not alone. Two human females entered the workshops with him – one quite young, the other in her prime. They were accompanied by several faceless warriors, a pair of clones, and an astromech droid. Too lavish a procession for the sacrament of appreciating art, in the opinion of the xi-char. But the client's wish is always the law.
According to the order's laws, no one, not even the client, could be admitted to the holy of holies – the inner chambers, the place where works of art were created. For this purpose, "Haor Chall" had always had an exhibition pavilion since its first client, where the client could see firsthand what he had paid the xi-char for.
The constructions of their race were fundamentally different from anything humans could create. Angles, bulkheads, long flat walls – all this was alien to the xi-char. The harmony of production lies in smooth curves. In the external beauty of internal perfection.
That is why the exhibition pavilion had the appearance of a huge hemisphere, woven from thick transparisteel – a sign of respect for the master's residence. Upon arriving on Zakuul for the first time, the xi-char were deeply moved by the beauty of this world. And since imitation is the highest standard of reverence, it is not surprising that, settling in the Old World, they created something similar for themselves. While maintaining the bounds of decency, so as not to offend the client's gaze by completely copying his abode.
Inside, the guests had to wander between massive platforms on which fully functional samples of xi-char art were displayed. The fruit of pure platonic love of ancient schematics and the creative genius of the race itself.
The master insisted that the xi-char not create the same works of art they had made for the Confederacy. The Prelate understood him. To use old art for a new client is the greatest insult.
Therefore, the Emperor and his retinue gazed only at completely new models of technology.
The Prelate began his presentation with the smallest.
"The master has assigned the xi-char," the droid quickly translated the Prelate's chirping, "two tasks. First – to modernize some samples of Sith Empire and Eternal Empire technologies to meet modern requirements. Second – the creation of qualitatively new technology for the Eternal Zakuul Empire, which will be put into service of the army."
"Prelate," the Emperor turned his head towards the leader of "Haor Chall." "I perfectly remember the tasks you set for yourself. I am interested in the results."
The insectoid inclined his head in a sign of submission.
"We have modernized the Sith Empire's combat droid, model one," a squat combat machine on four walking legs, armed with a pair of twin heavy blaster turrets, occupied the first place in the exhibition list. "The updated product passed testing in real conditions in Darth Malgus's army. We received no complaints."
The droid turned towards the next exhibit.
"BD-148 'Precursor,' a combat droid of the old Eternal Zakuul Empire. Like the previous sample, it has undergone an update of armament, electronics, propulsion units, and armor. Unlike the Sith Empire analogue, it is armed with only a pair of rapid-fire missile launchers. Unfortunately, like the Sith combat droid, this product cannot be equipped with energy shields analogous to the CIS droidekas due to software and hardware conflicts. However, saving on extremely expensive equipment allows us to increase its mass production."
Next, the xi-char demonstrated to the assembled a perfected Zakuul Empire shuttle, into which its workers had breathed new life. Now, such a transport vehicle was used to transport particularly important and influential sentient beings, receiving the status of an elite ship. The Prelate, although he did not show that he had observed how the Emperor arrived at the walls of his workshops in this very transport vehicle, felt pride in his workers.
The next two exhibits are anthropomorphic combat machines. The Emperor turned his attention to them with interest. And it's understandable – both combat droids have already been adopted and have proven themselves excellently in battles in Sith Space. But the recently completed creations...
"This is a guardian droid," the innovation was introduced by the droid, strictly following the Prelate's instructions. "It was used during the confrontation between the Republic and Darth Revan's Sith Empire. By now, the original is completely obsolete. But, the Xi Char were able to breathe new life into it. Now it is an absolutely new work of art by the company, whose purpose is to patrol important objects, as well as maintain law and order. It can be armed with absolutely any small arms. The armor can withstand a hit from light small arms."
"Curious," one of the females accompanying the Emperor approached the guardian, running her hand over its dull helmet. "In my time, these were extremely dangerous opponents. But not very agile and rather dull."
The droid, having listened to the Prelate's comment, obediently translated.
"The Xi Char have put a lot of effort into its creation. This droid surpasses any known analogues in its class. However, its use in full-scale military operations is not recommended – its protection is inferior to that of our next creation."
Finally, they approached the fourth sample of "Haor Chel's" creativity.
A two-meter giant, clad head to toe in snow-white armor, clutched a blaster rifle in its mechanical fingers, lowering its barrel to the floor.
"The Prelate is proud to present to you an updated version of the assault droid," the droid's mechanical voice carried hints of triumph. "Skywalker 2" is a completely redesigned model of its predecessor in this product line. Currently, it is the most advanced of the droids ever created by "Haor Chall." All internal parts of the droid are protected by updated reinforced composite armor. Its intelligence and sensory system allow it to control up to one kilometer of its surrounding space, tracking all hostile targets and prioritizing their danger for mission completion. During development, we planned to give this model maximum resemblance to the Stormtrooper Corps soldiers to make early identification difficult for the enemy. It is capable of operating in any environment. Thanks to the built-in portable reactor, its autonomy is not limited by time – just like the operational life of the assault pack, which uses the same power source.
"With droids like these," one of the clones declared, "the Stormtrooper Corps itself becomes unnecessary."
"Do not diminish your importance, commandos," the Emperor replied quietly. "No machine can replace a living person. What is the production cost of such an assault trooper?" the last question was addressed to the Prelate. And he answered it honestly.
"That's what I was saying, Balda," the corporation owner chuckled. "For that price, you could build a squadron of old 'Skywalkers,' which are no longer competitive in today's reality. Very well, Prelate. Your droids will be adopted by the Empire. After all, there are situations when risking the lives of living soldiers is simply foolish."
The insectoid bowed again to his master. The latter, unlike any other sentient being, looked into the very essence of what was happening.
"I understand that the Eternal Empire's walker has also undergone modernization?" the Emperor inquired, pointing to the next exhibit.
A bipedal machine, elegant in its deadly beauty, towered over all other company products and was the next exhibit in the presentation.
"The Prelate is impressed by your perceptiveness, Emperor," the droid translated. "This is the AT-ST of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul. Like other models, the walker has been modernized and improved. It is operated by a crew of two, possesses increased maneuverability, good protection, and armament. Republic walkers are inferior to it in all parameters – protection, armament, electronics, maneuverability, and maintainability."
"Well, we'll take it," the one for whom the entire event was held grunted. "I assume we're moving on to the technology that 'Haor Chall' created from scratch?"
"Precisely," the droid, and after it, the others, moved to the new stands. "The company has taken into account the client's desire to create wheeled and tracked armored vehicles for the army's needs. All vehicles have undergone a full cycle of testing and are ready for use. The Prelate has the honor to present to you a light armored infantry fighting vehicle."
"Wow..." came from under the helmet of the same stormtrooper.
Seeing the astonishment of the Emperor's retinue, the Prelate continued to dictate information about the product to the translator droid, which he knew by heart. For all the Xi'char, the tactical and technical characteristics of the manufactured equipment are not just a set of numbers and specifications. It is sacred scripture, which every one must know.
"Light armored infantry fighting vehicle," the droid repeated the name. "A four-wheeled vehicle with protection against energy projectile weapons, up to medium cannons. It is designed to transport a squad of soldiers with full armament and supplies over rough terrain to their destination. In addition to composite armor, it is equipped with a rapid-fire heavy blaster repeater and six proton mortar launchers on the turret. Crew – three people. Power source – a high-capacity modular capacitor. The Prelate asks the Emperor to honor the Xi'char and bless this equipment, as well as other works of art of our race, which he deems necessary for adoption."
"And what is the procedure for blessing?" from the liveliness in the Emperor's voice, the Prelate concluded that he liked the equipment.
"The Xi'char humbly ask you to give a name to their humble work," the droid explained.
"Hmm..." the man paused for a moment. Then, looking at a couple of clones, he decisively said, "Berserker."
"The Prelate bows to your wisdom, my lord, and asks you to proceed to the next product."
"Heavy armored personnel carrier," the droid explained, pointing to an eight-wheeled vehicle twice the size of the previous one. The gray-blue armor and wheel protection indicated that, compared to the previous product, this one was ready to withstand much heavier fire. "It is a logical development of the 'Berserker' object. It is armed with eight long-range proton mortar launchers. It has firing ports for the crew or transported soldiers to use personal small arms. It is equipped with an electronic jamming system to create a zone safe from guided missile targeting. Crew – three people. The protected cabin, reinforced with heavy armor, can accommodate two infantry squads. It is also possible to transport combat droids in the rear of the troop compartment. Due to its massiveness, it is inferior to the previous model in speed."
"It will do," the Emperor nodded. "Praetorian."
The droid pointed to the next exhibit.
"The Xi'char know that tracked vehicles have a significant advantage over wheeled ones in certain battlefield conditions. For this purpose, an amphibious assault tank was developed," the Prelate carefully watched the reaction of the small human female, who, upon seeing the massive, sand-colored tracked combat vehicle with a low-profile turret equipped with a heavy mass driver cannon and a pair of blaster repeaters, opened her mouth in surprise.
"This tank can transport a squad of soldiers, reliably protecting them from damage with heavy durasteel armor. The tracked chassis makes the vehicle suitable for use in swampy and other difficult terrain. The main caliber is a modified mass driver weapon with kinetic projectiles of various effects – armor-piercing, fragmentation, high-explosive..."
"I think 'The Punisher' is the most fitting name for this tank."
"As you wish," the Prelate enthusiastically accepted the owner's reaction. Indeed, this tank could atone for the sins of any enemy.
"While in the service of the Confederacy, the Xi'char had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with the concept of the Republic's repulsor tank and found it insufficiently effective," the Prelate gestured for the humans to follow to a massive combat vehicle standing on a neighboring podium.
"Haor Chall has produced two models of main battle tanks," the Prelate explained through the translator droid's vocoder. "The first tank," he pointed to a machine gleaming under artificial light on tracks with a smooth turret and three cannons. "It is armed with one medium-caliber mass driver cannon and two light blaster cannons. Ammunition – thirty rounds for each. For protection against enemy missiles, the vehicle is equipped with two quad missile launchers – with a triple ammunition load. The tank belongs to the medium category, has high maneuverability and high speed, thanks to which it can not only support the advance of its units but also be used for pursuing retreating enemy troops. Crew – six people."
"Tell me about the second tank," the Emperor demanded.
"This product, the Xi'char, belongs to the heavy tank category," the Prelate pointed with his paw towards a black behemoth with a twin-barreled turret. "It is armed with two high-precision long-range plasma cannons. It has two independent tracked transmissions – steering and drive. Protection – deflector. The hull is made of a material that scatters scanning radiation, resulting in low visibility for the tank, but due to its low speed, it is extremely vulnerable to artillery and air strikes. To counter infantry and light enemy forces, it is equipped with four rapid-fire repeaters – two in the nose and as many in the stern. Crew – nine people, of whom one is the tank commander, four are repeater gunners, two are main caliber gunners, and two are drivers. It is also equipped with launchers for firing proton mines or anti-missiles."
"This is simply... a death machine," the small female whispered loudly. "Teacher, such technology..."
"...is needed by the Empire," her owner interrupted sharply. "Prelate, I am delighted. You have created a wonderful alternative to the Republic's TX-130 and RX-200 'Sabre' tank lines. Both tanks will be adopted. The three-barreled one will be named 'The Ripper,' and the one with plasma armament – 'Doomsday.'"
The Emperor wagged his finger at his small subordinate. She, huffing, cast an angry glance at the Prelate. What exactly did she dislike? After all, this technology is a perfect weapon of destruction?
"Haor Chall is aware of the Confederacy's preference for using their manufactured fighters and bombers for ground attacks," the Prelate continued. "For this purpose, the Xi'char have prepared several variants of anti-aircraft defense models."
"The first object," the leader of the Xi'char order pointed to a snow-white tracked vehicle resembling a turreted tank. However, instead of a cannon, the central part of the turret housed four long-barreled kinetic cannons. "It is armed with four rapid-fire mass driver cannons capable of hitting targets at distances of several tens of kilometers. The sensor equipment," at his request, the droid pointed to the scanning "dish" at the rear of the radar, "allows the crew of four people to control the territory within a radius of a hundred kilometers around the product. To repel missile attacks, the anti-aircraft complex has missile launchers. To engage potential ground threats, the complex is equipped with a dozen strike missiles, mounted in containers of six each on the sides of the turret."
Seeing no reaction from the Emperor, the Prelate continued.
"The second object is a missile anti-aircraft offensive complex," the Xi'char pointed to a sand-colored exhibit. "For greater mobility in case the running gear is damaged, we have developed a concept where this complex has four tracked drives and can move if half of them fail. The modular configuration system allows the product to be equipped with clusters of both strike and anti-aircraft missiles. The complex is equipped with the same detection system as the previous one. For defense, it is equipped with two automatic blaster repeaters."
"Hmm..." the Emperor said meaningfully, heading towards the next exhibit. "And what is this?"
"The corporation has worked on creating a universal product based on a tracked tank," the Prelate recounted. "We have created an object that houses both heavy and anti-infantry, as well as anti-aircraft armament on its turret."
A couple of clones, looking at the last sample, exchanged glances.
"It's like a bat mated with a rancor," the talkative clone voiced his opinion. "My Lord, may I ask the Prelate a question?"
"Proceed, Balda," the man, apparently, was not impressed by the anti-aircraft armament lineup. The Prelate felt sorrow. Previously, it had never happened that a client remained dissatisfied.
"Prelate," while the rest of the owner's retinue continued their journey along the exhibition exhibits, the stormtrooper clones attracted the insectoid's attention. "Can your anti-aircraft complexes counter not only CIS aircraft but also Republic aircraft?"
"Of course," the Xi'char said as a matter of course. "Thanks to high mobility and the most modern tracking systems, our installations can not only track and destroy known types of equipment but also counter unknown ones."
"The CIS has repeatedly struck at Republic moving units," the previously silent stormtrooper recalled. "And also at civilian objects. Wouldn't it be better to develop stationary defense systems than to use portable ones?"
"The Prelate sincerely does not understand your question," the droid translated. "Don't stationary anti-aircraft installations require transport for their movement? So why create a non-mobile complex if it's possible to produce equipment that can reach its base on its own?"
The question seemed to leave the stormtroopers stumped.
"Ahem," the first stormtrooper decided to say something, but never uttered his words. The pair circled the three objects for a while longer, after which they rejoined the departed retinue, explaining something to their master.
"Did we fail the client?" the Xi'char worried. Such shame "Haor Chall" had never known.
The Master had demanded that they develop the entire range of equipment for the Empire's army. Did it mean that somewhere his engineers failed to embody his desire in metal? The Prelate felt his limbs tremble. Failure to fulfill an order is sacrilege for the Xi'char. And according to sacred laws, it should be punished by death for all the artisans responsible for fulfilling the order. Including himself, he should end his life in ritual suicide, as the main culprit for violating the sacred contract. After all, it was he who failed to understand the client correctly.
"Prelate," he was pulled from his thoughts by the droid's voice. "The master asks us to tell you about the artillery section of the exhibition."
The insectoid joined the client, feeling dejected. He looked with a dull gaze at the master, who was conversing with his stormtroopers. He did not intend to interrupt their conversation. But he could not start the presentation either – the Xi'char tradition did not allow them to communicate information about an order to someone without the client's personal involvement.
Finally, after a couple of minutes of negotiation, the Emperor, gesturing to the stormtroopers to cease their argument, approached the Prelate.
"My friend," he placed his heavy palm on the chitinous shell of the order's leader. "You must forgive my skepticism regarding the previous three models. It's not that I'm very far from military knowledge, but I still couldn't appreciate the full potential of your creations. I dare assure you that my doubts have been dispelled. All three models must be adopted by our army. I name them 'Shilka,' 'Shkval,' and 'Smerch,' in the order you demonstrated them to us."
"I will be glad if you tell me about the remaining samples of equipment," the Emperor said peacefully.
"The Prelate conveys his gratitude to you and thanks you for the trust placed in him," the droid translated his chirping. Having listened to the Xi'char's words, he continued the presentation.
"Haor Chall considers it necessary to equip heavy artillery with the ability for independent movement," the mechanism explained. "Mobility in our time is the key to preserving equipment from enemy retaliatory strikes. Moreover, unlike the artillery of the Confederacy and the Republic, the Xi'char believe that the Empire will only benefit from its heavy artillery being represented by self-propelled models."
The Prelate pointed to two impressive structures.
"The first sample is a mass driver kinetic artillery piece," he poked with his limb towards a tracked vehicle with a turreted installation with a massive twin-barreled cannon, carefully covered by an armored rectangular acceleration casing. "It strikes any ground target within a radius of up to fifty kilometers. It uses various types of medium-caliber ammunition."
"The second machine," the Xi'char positioned himself near a six-wheeled armored behemoth with a semi-turreted installation in the rear. The single massive barrel indicated that this weapon, in principle, leaves no chance of survival for anyone or anything in the impact zone. "This is a proton ultra-long-range super-heavy universal cannon capable of destroying targets at distances from fifty to two thousand kilometers. The special suspension of the transport allows the cannon to operate without any significant recoil system, thanks to which it does not require a carriage or shock absorbers, as is common with the walking gun mounts of the Confederacy and the Republic. Thanks to our developments, the proton projectile for this installation has doubled in size compared to the standard used in the Republic and CIS."
"What do you mean by 'universal'?" asked the long-haired human female.
"This complex can fire at both ground and large space targets, from corvettes and larger."
"I'm already scared to imagine what will happen if such a behemoth fires at a separatist factory," a stormtrooper's chuckle was heard. The Prelate, squinting, decided to clarify.
"In case of impact on a ground target with such a projectile, the shockwave will destroy everything within a radius of a hundred meters from the shell's detonation point. The projectile's penetration power will destroy all underground structures that enemy soldiers can erect. To be more visual – a hive of Geonosians would be completely destroyed by half a dozen such shells. We have developed a unique, unparalleled in the galaxy, ultra-precise guidance system for this complex, thanks to which not a single shell will miss the target."
The insectoid chirped proudly. It was a pity that the droid could not convey all his emotions.
"You know, Prelate," the Emperor said. "I like that you don't leave the Empire's enemy any chance. And besides, the design of the last machine is simply breathtaking. You have surpassed yourselves. I am truly delighted with these artillery systems. Perhaps," the man mused. "The first self-propelled artillery piece will be named 'Hyacinth.' And the second... definitely MSTA."
"MSTA?" the taciturn stormtrooper repeated.
"Mimimi-cute deadly accurate armageddon," the Emperor said. "Recalling stories about how CIS proton artillery destroyed defenseless Republic transports during the landing on Ryloth, I think, when encountering enemy assault ships, the MSTA crew can say, 'You're done for, you unfortunate landing party.'"
Seeing the uncomprehending looks of his retinue, the master sighed heavily, and then added:
"Let it be – mobile super-heavy artillery."
The Prelate, interpreting the Emperor's words as praise, chirped, adding further explanations.
"According to the calculations of 'Haor Chall' engineers, MSTA will be able to penetrate the armor of Republic and CIS ships, detonating inside. In half of the design calculations, this leads to multiple internal explosions and the destruction of the target. Our engineers believe that one or two hits will be enough for this."
"I hope you're not talking about the kind of hit where the projectile enters the nose of a 'Venator' and exits through the thrusters?" the Emperor became wary.
"No. But, the Xi'char are working on it," the Prelate assured the master.
"For God's sake – no," the man suddenly protested. "Penetrating a metal object lengthwise is a legend about a superweapon from another universe."
"The Prelate asks the master to proceed to the last samples," the translator droid recited.
"So," stopping opposite a massive armored wheeled carrier. "Is this a multiple launch rocket system?"
The Prelate smiled with satisfaction, baring his predatory teeth.
"This complex, based on an eight-wheeled armored all-terrain vehicle, has a swappable module for launching strike missiles," the droid explained. "Two cassette magazines with twenty rounds each. Firing range – from five to one hundred kilometers. The Prelate is interested in the lord's opinion."
"Definitely – yes," the man shrugged. "I name this work of art of the Xi'char 'Grad.'"
"And the last thing," the droid pointed to a pair of huge wheeled transports. Despite their imposing appearance, both, except for the medium armor, had no armament. "These objects are created for engineering troops. Building bridges, clearing debris, erecting ground fortifications..."
"If the Great Army had such mechanisms," the talkative stormtrooper grumbled, "we wouldn't have to spend days on end building fortifications."
"Agreed," the Emperor unexpectedly quickly agreed. "Let them be..."
The man suddenly fell silent, frozen in place. The Prelate looked at the owner's retinue with incomprehension, but literally in the blink of an eye, the man came back to life.
"'Beaver,'" he pointed to a product resembling a hunchbacked beetle, "'and Scorpion,'" a wave of his hand towards an eight-wheeled vehicle with a construction crane on top.
"The Prelate expresses his highest joy," the translator droid reported. "And asks for permission from the master to begin serial production of these works."
"In turn, Prelate," the man addressed the insectoid, "I express my gratitude to you for your selfless work for the good of the Empire. And – yes, I look forward to the prompt serial production of this equipment."
Turning to his retinue, the Emperor said:
"Alpha, Balda," both stormtroopers snapped to attention before their master. "Go to 'Incom' and inform Dalig that I want a squadron of X-wings. You, my little friend," he looked at the astromech droid, "choose the best fighter for me."
For the first time during all this time, the product of the Industrial Automatons found its voice, bursting into a whistling trill.
"Oli, Celeste," the Emperor looked at both females. "It's time for us to go to the Throne Room. The Guards have delivered our last 'guests.' I still need to do something."
***
Gazing at the faces of the unknown soldiers escorting him and other prisoners, Darth Maul felt barely concealed rage.
He had spent eleven long years on a garbage planet, sinking to the very bottom of the galaxy after his defeat at the hands of an unremarkable Padawan. His mind had been in oblivion, but now everything had become clear. The Zabrak vaguely remembered how his mind had recovered. But he clearly felt that it was the Dark Side that had helped him regain consciousness. It couldn't be otherwise.
Mol thought with longing that his teacher must have saved him. Darth Sidius could not abandon his protégé. After all, they needed to carry out the Plan together.
What was happening confused him. Yes, he was grateful to his teacher for restoring his ability to walk, supplementing his body with cybernetic constructs below the waist. However, this did not explain why he was in shock cuffs. Nor did it explain the four other prisoners following him down the spacious corridor. And who were the three faceless warriors escorting them? Whom did they serve? Why did the Force in them feel so strange… As if the Dark Side had been diluted with the Light…
He didn't recognize the interior. He had traveled extensively throughout the galaxy, but all this opulence…
"Walk straight," the muffled voice from within the helmet couldn't hide from him the identity of the one who unceremoniously pushed him in the back.
Max, Adkar, and Logan – three guards who had watched over the prisoners, who were now being escorted in an unknown direction. They were taciturn, only stating their names. Questions and attempts to engage them in conversation were ignored; the guards continued to silently guard the dungeons.
Until this evening, when the trio, having placed shock cuffs on each of the prisoners, escorted them through the internal passages to the turbolift cabin.
Light, the only source of knowledge about the change of day and night, penetrated the zabrak's cell through a narrow slit just below the ceiling. But, unfortunately, he couldn't see anything through it – his entire view was blocked by the massive wall surrounding the place where he was.
Mol himself didn't notice when their procession stopped before a huge door, where a short, white-haired human girl with a hunted look was already waiting for them. As if on command, the doors parted, and the silent trio of escorts ordered them all to go inside.
The zabrak gazed with bated admiration as a vast spherical chamber opened before his eyes, through whose transparent walls millions of stars could be seen in the blackness of space.
The escorts led them along a wide walkway leading to a central platform, where a throne, unlike any he had ever seen before, stood on an artfully crafted dais.
And on it sat a man in luxurious black robes, over which decorative snow-white armor elements were fastened. However, upon approaching, Mol realized that the armor was real. But the man sitting before him was clearly a stranger.
The zabrak and the quartet following him passed by four pairs of guards, identical to those who had accompanied them to this place. And, strangely, as soon as they left the guards behind, they would turn almost imperceptibly and leave through the open doors.
The Sith Lord felt that he had fallen into some kind of cunning game. Something was happening here, but he couldn't figure out what exactly. But he had no doubt that everything would become clear soon.
As soon as he and the other prisoners reached the foot of the throne, the zabrak, to his surprise, saw that lightsaber hilts were laid out on the very first step leading to the top. Two staffs, two identical single-handed blades, and three different hilts. It seemed they were meant for them.
Raising his head, the zabrak belatedly noticed two other individuals present. A human teenage girl, clad in shining armor with a characteristic Jedi cloak over it, and a tall, dark-haired woman with a long braid. They stood on either side of the throne, slightly hidden in its shadow. And both had lightsabers hanging from their belts.
A Jedi trap? Unlikely. Otherwise, how could one explain that among the five prisoners, one was definitely an adept of the Light Side. At least, he had been. Faint echoes of the Dark Side could be clearly felt in him. Not as obvious as in Mol himself or the other three prisoners, but enough to state that this person was unlikely to be an active member of the Order. And then there was that blonde girl standing behind the prisoners…
"You've arrived," the man sitting on the throne stood up, taking a couple of steps forward so that everyone could see him. "Excellent. I hope you have all regained your strength, because each of you will face a trial."
"Who are you?" hissed the bald woman standing next to the zabrak, defiantly.
"What kind of game are you playing?" roared the second zabrak in their company. Although he was larger than Mol and his Force potential was respectable, he was clearly not diligently trained.
"Shut up and listen," the stranger used considerable Force to make all the prisoners fall to their knees before him. "Each of you deserved death in your last encounter with me or my servants. But I am giving you a chance. A last chance to change your destiny forever. To stop serving the base ideals of your masters and join me."
"This… can't be…" a whisper reached Mol's ears from the blue-skinned alien woman standing to the far left of the zabrak and the bald woman. "It can't be him."
"Who are you talking about, you red-eyed fool?" hissed the bald one.
"Don't you feel it?" she sobbed. "He's become even stronger since our last meeting. But I recognize him. It's Dougan!"
"Impossible," exclaimed the bald one. And at that very moment, Mol regretted not shutting them both up. A blue-violet lightning bolt coursed through all five of them. The zabrak recalled with horror how his teacher had instructed him in the same way.
"Silence," the man said in a quiet, but no less terrifying voice. At the same time, the pain, as well as the flashes of Force Lightning, disappeared.
"You are right, Sev'rance," he continued in the same colorless voice. "I am Rick Dougan. A Jedi Master. And, at the same time, the Immortal Emperor of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul."
"Jedi scum," croaked the bald one. "I'll gut you…"
"Believe me, you, like everyone present here," he gestured with his hand to all six standing before him, "will have a chance. You can leave this Throne Room alive in only two cases – either if you swear allegiance to me and become loyal subjects of the Eternal Empire, or if you can kill me and my servants," he indicated the couple standing behind him with a casual gesture.
"Why should we serve you?" asked the man with dreadlocks, who had been silent until now. It was he whom Mol suspected of belonging to the Order.
"Because only I see the future of this galaxy," at these words, the zabrak became alert. "This war is just a manipulation by the Sith to destroy the Jedi Order," the man pointed at him. "Darth Mol will not lie. He once served this Plan too. However, such things happen regularly in the history of the galaxy. And I believe that it is time to put an end to this – the confrontation between the Sith and the Jedi. I and my followers believe that Force adepts should return to the basics. Understand that the Force is One. That both sides should be used, maintaining Balance within oneself. And to stop the bloodshed, bringing peace and order to the galaxy."
"Under your leadership, right?" snapped the bald one.
"Precisely, Asajj," Dougan said coldly. "Unlike those you served before, I do not lie to you. Like Darth Sidius, I do not use you, Mol, to achieve my goals, nor do I discard you once you stumble. Like Sidius's servant, Dooku, I do not use you, Ventress, and you, Tann, promising power that you will never achieve. Do not try to argue with me, Opress – in the Count's eyes, you are simply an animal, a replacement for Ventress, to be a trigger for the Jedi and to draw their attention where needed. Are you smirking, Vos? In vain. Of all those present, you are the only one who could be convinced of the truth of my words," Dougan extended his hand. "Don't you want to use your unique gift?"
With the last words, the man's shackles fell to the floor with a hollow clang. Vos stood up, rubbing his stiff wrists. Looking at the other prisoners, he slowly ascended the steps.
"Behold, Quinlan Vos, what horror awaits the galaxy if I allow the future I speak of to be realized," with these words, Dougan unceremoniously grabbed the exhausted man by the shoulder.
At first, Mol didn't notice any changes. A couple of seconds later, he noticed a shadow pass across Vos's face. After that, the man's expression became one of great sorrow and pain. A minute later, Quinlan was already kneeling before Dougan, clenching his teeth. His body was tense, as if an electric charge was passing through him. Soon, the man began to convulse, after which Dougan finally let go of him, and the long-haired man fell backward with a cry. Mol watched with interest as the adult man, a Force adept, trembled like an infant at the sight of the new world.
"What did you see?" demanded the second zabrak. However, Quinlan only whimpered, cowering in a fetal position. Several minutes passed before he could calm down and say anything coherent. And yet, his speech was impossible to make out from such a distance.
"Wimp," spat Ventress with contempt. "And this is a Jedi Master? A weakling! All of you should have been cut down…"
"And the Jedi will be cut down," Dougan said calmly. "Just as they have been dozens of times before – almost all of them. The rest will be so disappointed in the Order's teachings that they will hide in the farthest corners of the galaxy, leaving the Sith to rule it."
"So be it," roared Ventress. "The Sith will triumph!"
"Only you won't see it," Dougan chuckled. "Nor will any of you. Mol will be captured by Sidius, after which Obi-Wan Kenobi will finish what he started on Naboo. You, Asajj, like a hunted animal, will hide in the backwoods for the rest of your days. It's curious that the Jedi killer will meet the fate of the surviving Jedi. Tann," the man looked at the blue-skinned exotic, who continued to sit on the floor with a dejected look. "Your path is even more tragic. If I hadn't arranged for everyone to believe you were dead, the Jedi would have found you. And your life would have ended six months ago. Sariss," the man looked at the girl standing behind the prisoners. She, apparently, had certain privileges, as she was not in chains. "For years, the Prophets of the Dark Side tormented you, pretending to teach you. I, on the other hand, am giving you a chance to avenge them, to gain true power, and to rightfully take your place."
"And what about me, Jedi?" roared the second zabrak. For a moment, Mol felt that his face seemed familiar. And the illusion immediately vanished.
"Opress… You won't live very long. Before Mol is captured by Sidius, you will fall. And you will never rise again."
"Why should we believe you, Emperor?" Mol heard a child's voice from behind him.
"Because I am extending a helping hand to you, while any of your masters would have long ago forced you to merge with the Force," Dougan chuckled. He waved his hand, and Mol noticed that the shackles fell from each of the prisoners. "Each of you is special in your own way. Tann, Ventress, Mol, Opress, Vos, Sariss. The Zakuul Empire needs talented individuals. Serve me, or face your destiny."
With these words, the Emperor turned his back to them, intending to take his place on the throne.
"I will never bow my head again!" Opress shouted defiantly. Obeying a mental summons, one of the light staffs appeared in his hands. A moment later, the air was filled with a characteristic sound. A pair of scarlet blades stirred Mol's memories.
"You have made your choice, Savage Opress. So be it," Darth Mol heard a hint of amusement in the Emperor's voice.
And then the yellow-and-black zabrak leaped.
Celesta was a first-class duelist; in the old Jedi Order, even the instructors avoided dueling her. When the Light Side energy flowed through her, her blade was more than a weapon. The sword became an extension of her will.
Savage Opress, the zabrak, was a master of the light staff, but he could not defeat the Emperor. It was a pity that the foolish savage did not know this.
A storm of Force Lightning caught him at the highest point of his jump. The horned one shrieked as his body was consumed by electrical charges. The scream turned into an agonizing howl, after which Dougan, with a simple gesture, threw the unconscious body far away from him. With a dull thud, it slammed into the dais far from the throne.
The Jedi Master hoped this lesson would be enough, but instead, two opponents immediately rushed at the Emperor – the bald woman named Ventress and the second zabrak.
Morn felt the padawan barely restrain herself from joining the battle. However, Dougan had given clear instructions. Therefore, Celesta signaled the girl not to interfere.
As if by magic, hilts of lightsabers appeared from the voluminous sleeves of the Emperor's robe. In addition to the red blades, a pair of yellow ones cut through the air.
The opponents attacked uncoordinatedly. Each of them acted independently, trying to kill the Emperor. What idiotic thought drove them at that moment? Celesta could only shake her head, seeing how the former Jedi Quinlan Vos, lying on the floor, stared into the void with glazed eyes. Perhaps now he was the only one safe among the six who had come for the trial in the Throne Room.
What was more curious was that neither the Chiss girl nor the young Sith apprentice even tried to grab a weapon. Instead, they watched the events with interest.
Celesta smirked. A typical Dark Side tactic – wait until the winner emerges. And then join him. Simple, cunning, and so Sith-like.
Meanwhile, the battle was gaining momentum. One of the Emperor's blades found a gap in the zabrak's defense. Celesta couldn't help but admire the Emperor's play – instead of killing the attacker, he simply cut off one of his head horns. Then, pushing Ventress away with the Force, he delivered a strong kick to the zabrak's chest, sending him rolling down the stairs.
The Emperor followed his path to the bottom for a moment. This was dangerous: for a second, he was vulnerable. And the Jedi killer did not hesitate to take advantage of the sudden advantage.
With a wild cry, holding both blades to her right, she attacked. Truly, not even funny.
Celesta understood almost immediately that the Emperor was just playing with his victims. He was definitely playing a role in a performance. But who was his audience? The girl began to suspect that the play was being staged for everyone present. Although each had different goals.
Ventress, meeting unexpectedly strong resistance, broke the distance, and then rushed at the opponent again, increasing the pressure with her fantastic flexibility and agility. She literally bathed in the Dark Side, turning it around her like a small tornado. I wonder what her inner motivation is based on? What emotions does she turn into fuel for her attacks?
Meanwhile, the Emperor, holding a golden blade in each hand, delivered two fierce blows that the acolyte tried to block. However, it did not escape the former shadow Jedi how the girl howled in pain as the kinetic energy of her opponent's blows almost broke her wrists.
While Asajj recovered, the Emperor switched his attention to the zabrak who had risen up the steps. Through the prism of the Force, Celesta saw that the zabrak was summoning all the power of the Dark Side he was capable of. Foolish little boy…
One look at the Emperor's aura was enough to understand that neither six nor twenty opponents would stop him. He, like a huge sun, literally plunged into the Force, becoming stronger and faster than his opponent with every second. It took only a few moments before the Emperor lifted the red-skinned man into the air, slamming him into the floor with force. Then again. And again…
The shadow noticed that the zabrak's face was already a bloody mess, but the Emperor continued to wipe the floor of the entire Throne Room with it. Bloodstains were literally on every step, yet the futilely trying to break free zabrak continued to slide his face along the polished interior elements.
Finally, when Ventress returned to the battle, the Emperor deigned to stop tormenting the alien, flinging him towards the sealed doors of the Throne Room. It was funny that his rapid flight was watched with interest by everyone who was conscious at the moment.
Ventress coped with a series of four blows – Morn noted the characteristic Makashi combinations. Crude, but effective.
However, instead of continuing the effective combination, the bald woman awkwardly interrupted it. It took Celesta a second to realize what had happened. The acolyte hadn't just interrupted the sequence. She didn't know its continuation! While a series of quick blows to the opponent's sides should disorient him and end with an elegant thrust to the chest, the Emperor's opponent voluntarily decided to attack the legs. Which, in fact, led to Dougan, pushing off the floor, performing a full backflip, slamming both feet into the face of the distracted Ventress.
A fatal mistake.
Wounded, with a bleeding face, she lost concentration, leaving her right flank open, and the Emperor's blade plunged deep into her thigh. Asajj screamed, dropped her weapon, and fell. But the Emperor wasn't going to finish his lesson so quickly. He lightning-fast approached her, demonstrating his desire to open the kill count.
At Dougan's feet, Asajj tried to find her weapon. In pain, she panicked, her movements became clumsy, so the Emperor had the opportunity to savor her torment. Celesta could literally discern how the man, like a miniature black hole, drew in all the horror of what was happening. And when the woman's fingers grasped the hilt of one of the blades, he brought his boot down on her hand with full force, breaking her bones.
The Emperor looked into the woman's eyes one last time, savoring her horror, and then finished the beating.
Ignoring the pathetic attempts of the defeated enemy to defend herself, he pulled her to him with the Force. And, as soon as she was close enough, he delivered an upward knee strike to her face, throwing her towards the blue-skinned Chiss.
"Teacher!" cried Oli. Turning around, the Emperor saw Quinlan Vos, the former Jedi, getting to his feet. A moment later, a scarlet blade flashed in his hand.
While Dougan was fighting Ventress and the zabraks, Vos had enough time to recover.
What he saw… The extermination of the Order, the reign of the Sith, terror, the destruction of planets, endless wars… It shocked him to the core. This monster in human form made him relive every death he knew of. And, lying on the cold floor, the Kiffar asked himself only one question.
How did Dougan know all this? The future is always in motion, Yoda used to say. So why did this monster know the events to come for a hundred and fifty years in advance? No one in the history of the galaxy had ever possessed such foresight.
It took him ten minutes to understand.
Dougan was the cause of this future. He would lead the galaxy to these bloodsheds.
And it was his duty, the duty of a Jedi, which he was, despite Dooku's promises and the Dark Side's temptations – to destroy evil!
That is why Vos rushed at the Emperor.
He stood motionless, focusing his considerable power. At the last moment, the Emperor unleashed a wave of energy at the former Jedi, which knocked him off his feet and sent him flying back.
The Kiffar twisted in mid-air to roll immediately upon landing. He quickly got to his feet and moved forward again, this time much slower.
The Emperor stood in the same pose as before – as if he hadn't moved at all. He extinguished his lightsabers, folding his arms across his chest. Quinlan looked at this young, arrogant face, clearly contemptuous of everyone around him, and felt his anger grow. Having embraced the Dark Side, he could no longer renounce it.
And now it gave him the strength to continue the fight.
Quinlan began to feel the dark energy pressing on him: the Emperor was trying to break his will and enslave his mind. But rage helped him keep his mind locked.
Instead of rushing into an attack, he opened himself to the Force: the dark and light sides flowed into him in two furious streams. But he didn't even think about focusing the energy – instead, the Jedi released the Force in its purest form.
A bright flash illuminated the air between the two opponents. The force of the explosion was so great that Quinlan, against his will, was thrown back several meters, his head hitting something soft. The Emperor, standing before his magnificent throne, laughed.
"Really, Vos, you surprised me. The Unified Force in its pure form, without any control… You almost killed everyone here," Dougan spread his arms, pointing to the edge of the central platform, where the blue-skinned alien and the white-haired girl were hanging on. Strangely, those standing behind the Emperor didn't even flinch.
Vos heard a soft groan. Turning around, he saw that he had landed on the unconscious zabrak, who had suffered at the very beginning of the massacre. He was unconscious, but alive.
The main thing was something else.
Darth Mol approached him with a confident step. Burning gold shimmered in the zabrak's eyes. And his gaze was fixed on the Emperor, while the Sith's face was covered in blood.
"We'll do it together," Quinlan grabbed the zabrak's hand, drawing his attention. "We'll act as a team."
It seemed the zabrak didn't hear him at all. But, after a couple of moments, he nodded in agreement.
And now, together, they slowly approached the throne, waiting for an attack from this monster in human form.
The Emperor, still smiling, raised his hands above his head, and the air between his palms seemed to thicken.
Quinlan realized: the opponent was accumulating power to unleash a hurricane of dark energy upon him. The Jedi quickly calculated his chances. He didn't have time to reach the Emperor to nip the attack in the bud, so he tried to clear his mind, gathered his own power to absorb the energy of the blow.
A very risky step, considering that the Emperor's power is practically limitless.
At least, for Quinlan Vos.
Twisting purple lightning bolts rushed towards him. The Kiffar belatedly realized that the zabrak seemed to have no idea what was happening. Darth Mol was a duelist, but not skilled in confronting the Dark Side.
Quinlan lunged forward, intercepting the Emperor's lightning.
The only chance was to distract the monster and allow Mol to deliver a fatal blow.
Electricity seared Vos, and the former Jedi shuddered all over. His skin blistered, the flesh on his face melted, and it began to stream down his body like molten rivulets. But the Emperor wasn't done yet.
Through a haze of indescribable pain, Vos discerned the silhouette of Maul, who had dodged the infernal attack and was slowly approaching the enemy. It seemed Dooku didn't notice the assassin. Quinlan, feeling his strength wane, fell to his knees. His gaze swept over the spot where Ventress, Tann, and Sariss had been. Not a single one of them was on the platform. But Vos could no longer ponder their fate. Pain had consumed him completely.
He collapsed onto the floor, scorched but alive. The hilt of his extinguished blade rolled away, out of reach. He lacked the strength to crawl to it. And he had no strength to summon his weapon into his weakened hand.
Too weak to move, Quinlan still forced himself to lift his head and saw the Emperor turn towards the brave Zabrak. A tremor ran through the air – the Emperor unleashed all his might upon the former Sith Lord. The latter, like a rag doll, was pressed into the floor of the Throne Room, screaming in pain. Quinlan felt the Emperor slowly breaking the bones in his opponent's body.
He tried to stand, but his wounded body refused to obey. He instinctively called upon the Force, trying to heal his wounds. Or at least to numb the pain.
Finally, Maul's screams subsided. Quinlan looked at him and, with great sadness, noticed that he showed no signs of life.
The Emperor approached the Kiffar unhurriedly, purposefully. With a flick of his fingers, he sent the Jedi's weapon down. Only after a few seconds did the sound of its fall reach Vos's scorched ears, barely audible.
Meanwhile, he heard the activation of a lightsaber. Lying on the icy floor, he saw a golden spark appear before his face. Feeling his helplessness, he could only watch as the Emperor prepared to deliver the killing blow.
Consciousness returned with a jolt. Savage, feeling unbearable pain throughout his body, opened his eyes, gazing at the starry sky above. He could hear the sounds of battle, but he wasn't in a hurry to join it, preferring to assess the situation stealthily. For the first time in his life, he didn't want to rush headlong into battle.
The events in the throne room were not optimistic. The Emperor's dark lightning burned the former Jedi, and his body convulsed. He saw three maidens fall, the air barely filled with Force Lightning, unlike anything the Zabrak had ever seen, even from Count Dooku, whom he had until then considered the greatest adept of the Dark Side.
Then Darth Maul, in a clumsy attempt to kill Dooku, met his fate, smeared across the floor.
And after that, the Emperor's figure approached the helpless Jedi, activating his weapon.
It all took mere seconds. Savage got to his feet, but he was too far away to prevent the Emperor from piercing the Jedi sprawled at his feet. He harbored no friendly feelings for the latter. But almost immediately, he realized that the only thing that could stop the Emperor was working together. And no other way.
In desperation, he launched his saber in a shallow arc, guiding it with the Force. Spinning in the air, his blade intercepted the descending golden blade and deflected it, thus buying precious moments.
Savage summoned his weapon back into his hand. Pain overwhelmed him, yet, as Dooku had taught him, he directed it inward, transforming it into endless rage, which, in turn, gave him strength.
The Emperor, whose blade had carved a furrow away from the wounded Jedi's body, seemed bewildered. He looked at Savage, who was running towards him at full speed, with a bewildered gaze, as if seeing him for the first time. And the Zabrak used this confusion to close the distance between them.
Sensing the Emperor's doubt and uncertainty as he tried to assess the strengths and weaknesses of his new old enemy, Savage, crying out victoriously, began to spin his weapon, preparing to go into a clinch with the spawn of the Abyss.
"I expected less from you, Savage," the Emperor said as their blades finally clashed.
The Zabrak thought his opponent was probably stalling for time so his guards could break through the sealed door. However, he saw no great point in it: by the time they burst into the throne room, the outcome of the battle would already be decided – one way or the other. And why had they left the Throne Room at all? Or perhaps the Emperor was waiting for help not from the guards, but from those two humans who stood like statues next to his throne?
"You underestimated my strength, Jedi," Savage declared. "I am the true embodiment of the Dark Side."
"We shall see," the Emperor replied, smiling.
For Quinlan, the universe suddenly froze, as if time itself had ceased to exist. He realized he was at the final stage of his destiny – the next few moments would determine the way he would end his earthly journey.
Suddenly, as if Savage had swept over him like a whirlwind, Quinlan felt as if he had been caught by an oceanic wave. It engulfed him, forcing him to sink deeper and deeper into the Force. Without the slightest possibility of surfacing and catching a breath of reality.
Pictures of the future flashed before his eyes. For the second time since he had been in the Throne Room. Again and again, the same horrors that had almost driven him mad.
But this time, there was something else.
Or rather, someone.
The black figure, who, before his eyes, had been dispatching the Masters of the Order, committing genocide, and corrupting the minds of entire planets, suddenly took on a guise.
And, to his horror, Quinlan realized that the face of this immeasurable evil was not Dooku's at all.
Palpatine! The Supreme Chancellor – the Sith Lord!
He was behind the plan to destroy the Order. He had brought war upon the galaxy! He desired the return of the Sith despotism!
He, not Dooku!
As soon as he grasped this thought, another series of events flashed before his eyes… No less grim, bloody, but… it was only a brief period, after which everything ended.
Peace and tranquility reigned. Forever.
And this stability also had a guise.
The very one that was now playing with the Zabrak as if he were a small animal. Dooku, capable of vaporizing a living being in an instant, pretended he couldn't defeat a mere novice, blinded by his own rage.
And then the Jedi understood how he needed to act.
The Force brought revelation. It gave an answer to the question – why the Emperor had gathered them all here.
Quinlan, as before, called upon the Force. Not only the tranquility of the Light Side, but also the rage of the Dark. He allowed these two forces to merge into one, passing this inexpressible power through himself.
And he rose to his feet. His eyes, injured during the battle, had lost some clarity. But he clearly saw his goal. And took a step towards it.
Standing next to the Zabrak, the Jedi summoned the lightsaber that hung on the Emperor's belt into his hand. The latter seemed not to bat an eye, watching as his second blade ended up in someone else's hands, continuing his staged fight with the Zabrak.
Excellent. This will simplify Vos's work.
"Come on, Jedi!" Savage shouted almost into his ear. "Together we will defeat him!"
Quinlan, taking a step back, merely shook his head.
He wouldn't understand. Perhaps none of them would understand what the Jedi had to do.
So the Force commanded.
Who was he to disobey it?
Something flashed in his mind, the universe began to move at full speed again – and at that moment, the tip of his sword entered precisely between the shoulder blades of the distracted Zabrak.
Quinlan couldn't see through Savage's body, but with the Force, he knew precisely that the trophy weapon had pierced both his hearts. Savage died instantly, never understanding what had destroyed him.
The Kiffar smelled burnt flesh, which irritably wafted into his nostrils. Feeling he was losing control of his body, he deactivated his weapon and literally fell to his knees, offering it to its rightful owner, bowing his head in a sign of his submission.
"Explain yourself," the Emperor commanded. His weapon left Vos's hands and returned to its rightful place. However, he did not lower his own activated blade.
"I... was mistaken..." Quinlan croaked. "You are a monster. But... there is worse."
"How sweet," the Emperor said without a trace of a smile. "Decided to join the lesser evil?"
Quinlan felt a whirlwind of thoughts begin in his head.
"You will plunge us into a war... bloodier than this..." he explained his vision. "But then... peace will come. Eternal peace."
"And you believe this?" the Emperor sneered, deactivating his weapon. Now he stood before his defeated enemy, his hands clasped behind his back.
"The Force showed me this," the Kiffar exhaled. "I... am a Jedi... I... serve... the Force."
"If that is true," the Emperor said, "then you must end the threat to peace."
Quinlan felt as if a stream of Force flowed into him. It cooled his burning body, calmed his thoughts. And gave him the strength to rise.
He followed the direction of the Emperor's gaze. And almost immediately understood what he had to do.
Pulling the Oppressor's weapon to himself, the former Jedi activated only one blade.
He walked to the spot where Maul had ceased to resist. The Zabrak had dented the surface with his body, and now blood was pooling there, flowing from the wounds all over his broken body.
However, despite the lack of intact bones in his skeleton, he was alive. Unconscious, without a single intact part of his body, in a stupor. But alive. However, he was unlikely to last long.
Vos raised his sword to pierce the Zabrak's hearts – he had become devilishly proficient at this in recent times.
His hands moved down, but literally just before the blade touched the flesh of Darth Sidious's apprentice, Quinlan felt as if his body had been paralyzed. He froze, unable to move. And with surprise, he raised his gaze to the Emperor who had appeared beside him.
"Put away your blade. You have passed the test," the Emperor said. "And this refuse will still serve me." For a moment, Dooku closed his eyes. Quinlan felt the air around him begin to grow colder. Even the two girls, who had stood like statues the entire time, shivered. However, in the next second, he saw the unconscious bodies of the missing trio – Asajj Ventress, Sariss, and Sev'rance Tann – appear from behind the platform. All three were unconscious, but Quinlan felt that life still flickered within them.
"You will all serve me," a sly smile appeared on the Emperor's face.
The Force left Quinlan. He collapsed to one knee, like a felled tree. He had sworn allegiance twice before. First to the Order, then to Count Dooku. But now it seemed to him that only this day had truly opened his eyes to what was happening.
The Force claims that Dooku can change the galaxy for the better. If so, then he, Quinlan Vos, after all his hardships and troubles, переживаний and betrayals, would open his heart and mind to the new. And would serve the one who could make the galaxy better. Without empty talk.
"What next... my lord?" he said quietly. Raising his eyes to the Emperor, he saw a gentle smile on his face. But the Emperor was looking in a completely different direction. Glancing back stealthily, he noticed that the trio of maidens were stirring, coming to. Looking around, they were clearly stunned by the surrounding devastation. Finally, they stared at the Emperor. And at Vos, sitting before him.
With a staggering gait, Sev'rance Tann approached Dooku and, like Vos, collapsed before him on her knees. And after her – Sariss. A little later – the bald Ventress. Quinlan saw that each of them looked like a beaten toy. Broken, sad. Ventress didn't even pay attention to the fact that her face was a complete mess.
Then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached Quinlan's ears. Looking back, he saw a girl with a long black braid walking towards them. And behind her – a young Padawan. When both approached, they knelt on one knee, like Vos, their eyes fixed on the floor. Now the Emperor was surrounded by six people at once.
"You have passed the test," the Emperor rumbled. "Now you are ready to serve the Empire."
Vos, feeling a slight pang of conscience, risked raising his eyes to Dooku.
"I hope the reward for the bloody chaos we will turn the galaxy into will be worth it..."
The Emperor's face broke into a smile that made Quinlan freeze.
"I promise, Vos, you will be rewarded justly. Soon."