The doors of the Throne Room opened, admitting a new visitor.
The last one I intend to receive before returning to the worlds of the Republic.
And perhaps the most important of all those who have been here.
His build and appearance were noticeably human-like. In fact, his race belonged to the descendants of ancient human settlers – if one believed one of the hypotheses about the origin of this outstanding race.
The guest was dressed in a simple officer's uniform without insignia. He carried himself modestly, but with dignity. Despite the fact that he paid almost no attention to his surroundings, I would bet my life that his brilliant mind and natural genius were constantly analyzing what was happening.
The guest walked between two rows of guards, yet he exuded some sort of almost regal immutability, confidence in his own abilities. How sweet – even in a situation where his position was not entirely clear, the alien did not lose face. They say about such people that they have "white bone."
This guy won't be easy to surprise, to capture his attention.
However... I have one little idea.
The guest stopped directly opposite the Eternal Throne and, without any apprehension or false piety, looked me in the eye.
"Welcome to Zakuul, the capital of the Eternal Empire," the non-human, hearing his native tongue, didn't even bat an eye to show his surprise. I don't think he often heard anything like it in this corner of the galaxy. And yet – he didn't lose face. "Or perhaps you would prefer to continue the conversation in Galactic Common, Commodore Mitth'raw'nuruodo?"
For a few moments, the non-human remained silent, seemingly studying the one who not only spoke his native language – Cheun – but was also sufficiently aware of the Chiss's identity.
"Your pronunciation... is incorrect," he finally said in Galactic Common.
"Which cannot be said of you," I remarked, noting the Chiss's almost perfect speech in Galactic Common. Yes, there was a certain accent in his words, which, by the way, gave him a certain charm, but did not betray him as a resident of a world outside the Republic.
"I've had time to learn," Thrawn said.
The Chiss slowly looked around. Not like a savage who had just discovered fire, awestruck by the size and grandeur of the luxurious place he found himself in. But like a soldier assessing the Throne Room from the perspective of its vulnerabilities to a hypothetical enemy attack.
"Luxurious," he said. "But... vulnerable."
"Vulnerable," I corrected the mistake mechanically. "At first glance – yes. That's the point."
Thrawn looked at me, narrowing his eyes. Then, after a couple of seconds, he raised his eyes to the ceiling again. Following his gaze, I grinned, noticing with what interest he was examining the underside of the "Harrower" floating above our heads.
"You are the Emperor," he said, meeting my gaze. "K'ar'das said that you were the one who instructed him to be my teacher."
"Jorj is a very interesting person," I said. "Sometimes he can be too... frank. As one man said, 'The ability to speak is not yet a sign of intelligence.'"
The Chiss looked at the guards standing behind him without fear.
"What do you want from me?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo asked directly.
Well. It seemed I was the only one asking questions in my palace.
"And what do you want from us?" I had to parry his question with my own. "According to K'ar'das's records, you helped him fix the ship, attack a raider, and escape. What did you want to achieve?"
"If you are going to kill me, I ask that it be done quickly," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said, ignoring the question.
"A reasonable person with your intellect understands perfectly well that no ruler would first train someone only to execute them later," I chuckled.
Ever since Vette, on whom the Empire's entire vast transport network was now dependent, reported that a merchant had brought a blue-skinned alien with red eyes to Zakuul, I had desperately wanted to meet him.
And even more so – to recruit him into my service. Therefore, K'ar'das not only continued his long-standing linguistics lessons with the Chiss but also passed him many documents for familiarization, which, in my opinion, he should have studied before our meeting.
"You have given me much," Thrawn admitted. "Information on Republic and Confederacy ships, political information. You allowed me to familiarize myself with achievements in science, technology, and armed forces. I would repeat my question. Although, I believe I already have an answer."
"Indeed?" I smiled. "I would like to hear it."
"Recruitment."
"Commendable. And what will be your answer?"
The Chiss fell silent again, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
"I must refuse," he said. "Do not take this as an insult, but many years ago, I already received a suitable offer..."
"From Darth Sidious," I had to finish for him. And, I must admit, I managed to surprise him. The Chiss's right eyebrow twitched upwards. Not much. Damn, he controls his facial expressions better than I control my Hands!
"From this moment on, I've even become interested," the Chiss said.
"Mitth'raw'nuruodo," I tried to pronounce his name so as not to make mistakes. Apparently, it worked. "I am aware that several years ago you destroyed the fleet of a human – Kinman Doriana, who acted on Darth Sidious's orders. I am also aware that you tried to dissuade the Jedi from continuing their expedition to prevent them from falling into the hands of the Far Outsiders..."
At the last words, the Chiss raised his eyebrow even higher.
"And finally, I know that Darth Sidious promised to help you fight this enemy, with whom your people have already clashed," I concluded. "As you can see, the Empire possesses a large volume of information both about you personally and about the Chiss Ascendancy in particular."
"What is the goal behind collecting such intriguing data?" Thrawn asked in a level voice.
"The Eternal Empire was created by me as the only bulwark in the galaxy, whose goal is peace and order. And, as you can understand – I am not at all satisfied with neighboring threats like the Vagaari, Ssi-ruuk, Ebroch – and these are only those who are known. Not to mention the Yuuzhan Vong, whom you know as the Far Outsiders. Yes, Darth Sidious promised to help you solve this issue – but years are passing, and you are waiting for your hour on a backwater planet, instead of standing on the bridge of a fleet flagship, cleansing the galaxy of threats, and scouting new territories, thereby launching preemptive strikes against the enemies not only of the galaxy but also of your homeland. You would agree that even a fraction of the threats I have listed is enough for you to want to return to your people?"
"I do want to," Thrawn replied simply.
"However, you cannot do it openly," I continued. "After all, you were exiled – for using preemptive strike tactics. Which your people do not welcome."
"I am amazed at how much you know," the Chiss sighed. "Especially – considering the reclusiveness of our race."
"Information is a weapon just like a proton torpedo or a blaster," I explained. "You surely know this."
The Chiss remained silent. He seemed to be thinking about something of his own. And, I must admit, I didn't want to interrupt him.
In my world, when reading a book about Thrawn, I experienced a childlike delight from this character. His mind, tactics, ability to be several steps ahead of all his enemies... All this evoked admiration for the book character.
And now, this most intelligent being in the flesh stands before me. And, I confess, the feelings are contradictory. From admiration to the realization that I must kill him if he refuses.
"You are probably interested in whether the Eternal Empire is a threat to the Ascendancy," I voiced the question that hung in the air.
The alien didn't even flinch.
"I have thought about it," he admitted.
"And what conclusion have you reached?"
"My people will never accept the concept of a preemptive strike," he sighed. "I am the only one who is willing to consider such tactics as not exceeding the acceptable rules of engagement."
"Don't you want to convince your people of the need to adopt such a strategy?"
"I'm not even going to try," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said calmly. "I don't need their permission to fight on their behalf."
"Even if you have to fight alone?" I asked.
Mitth'raw'nuruodo looked up at me, and I swear I saw a contemptuous look on the alien's face. God, how good he is in his polished and genuine magnificence. Such Empire officers are desperately needed.
Such officers are needed by any empire in any quantity.
How long will it take before the other officers of "Jentawui" reach even a close level?
"If necessary," Thrawn said coldly, "I will fight alone."
"A very brave aspiration," I noted. "And simultaneously foolish. And also potentially wasteful."
"Are you ready to offer an alternative?" the non-human inquired.
A slight smile appeared on my face. Getting up from the Eternal Throne, I descended the steps, stopping a couple of meters in front of the Chiss.
"You are still studying us, aren't you?" I inquired. "Even now, being my prisoner with a faint hope of rescue, you are still studying us."
"Naturally," the alien said indifferently. "You yourself made it clear: you are a potential threat. Your ships are more perfect than those at the disposal of the Ascendancy. Your army surpasses ours in numbers and combat equipment. If you wish, my homeland will be drawn into a bloody war with the Jedi. Which I categorically do not want."
"You are mistaken, Thrawn," the stranger ignored the fact that I had used his middle name without permission. "The Eternal Empire of Zakuul is not an enemy of the Dominion. Rather, it is a potential ally."
"Indeed?" the Chiss's cold indifference washed over me. "I was warned about Jedi treachery. Trust you only once, and you will stab me in the back."
"That is your second mistake," I shook my head. "I and my people are not Jedi. And the fact that we use the Force and lightsabers is not proof. Just as information is merely a means to an end – peace and tranquility in the galaxy. My guards," I pointed to the faceless warriors, "are just another type of soldier, ready to sacrifice their lives for the well-being of the entire galaxy. And believe me, they will shed blood equally for me, for you, for my people, and for yours. The threats lurking in the Unknown Regions and Wild Space are too dangerous to postpone their destruction to a later date."
"Why?"
"The far-off strangers have been here for over four thousand years. Their scouts are already in the worlds of the galaxy and are just waiting for a convenient opportunity to strike. And their fleet – how many years will pass before it arrives in our galaxy? Ten? Twenty? Forty? Wouldn't it be better to spend the remaining time preparing the galaxy for the inevitable bloody battle than to wait for Darth Sidious to finally quench his petty revenge by destroying the Jedi – his ancient enemies – and then begin to do what I am doing now? On the other hand, how better to neutralize a potential threat than from within?"
Thrawn did not betray the emotions raging within him with even a flicker of expression. But in the Force... Hutt, even then he was calm. Terrifyingly calm.
Psychologists say there are no pure temperaments – sanguines, cholerics, melancholics, or phlegmatics. In each of us, this is mixed in different proportions. But I can say with certainty that the sentient being standing before me is a phlegmatic from head to toe. He will not succumb to momentary irritation, nor will he shed tears over his failures. And he will not burst into ringing laughter at another joke. This creature is an organic machine, existing with one purpose – to neutralize threats to those dear to him.
"What do you propose, Emperor?" he asked in an even tone.
"A position in the fleet of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul," I said, putting my hands behind my back and slowly walking away from him.
Not the slightest hint of surprise flickered in the Force, not even the emotional background changed. Perhaps he was too shocked to show such reactions. Although, more likely, he had already foreseen such a turn of events. Perhaps he had even intentionally tried to steer the conversation in this direction. I will be very disappointed if this is not the case.
"The Empire has many enemies," I continued. "Already, the galaxy is burning – the Republic is fighting the Confederacy for the right to dictate terms to the sentient world. One set of bureaucrats and corrupt officials is fighting another, weaving intrigues and hatching conspiracies. And all this is only so that a new power is established in the galaxy, under the guise of external stability, which will be as ugly and repulsive as it is now. Such is Darth Sidious's plan."
"But not yours," the Chiss remarked.
"Unlike the Jedi and the Sith," I turned to face Thrawn, to allow him to read my own expressions, "my state is effective, not spectacular. Unified laws, unified order. An army and fleet guarding legality. Zakuul is a state where citizens will live and know for sure that they will not become victims of arbitrary corruption, pirates, slave owners, or overfed officials. A military leader with the qualities inherent in Mitth'raw'nuruodo would be a good asset for us."
"Your benefit is obvious," Mitth'raw'nuruodo remarked. "What about mine?"
"For starters, you already have access to all imperial documents concerning alien races, here in the Outer Territories and the galaxy as a whole," I said. "I will give you the opportunity to identify and neutralize any possible threats to the Chiss Dominion within the borders of the Empire. You will have the chance to use your skills to identify and neutralize any threats to your people within the borders of the Empire."
"And that's all? What you call the Unknown Regions and Wild Space is a territory equal to a third of the galaxy. And in each of these corners, danger may await my people, who are not part of the Empire of Zakuul," the Chiss observed.
"If it comes to that, any threat to the Dominion is also a threat to the Empire," I continued my thought. "It is foolish to stop halfway just because the border of our state will be a hundred sectors away from the current territories. The Empire will not stop its machine until it clears the galaxy of threats."
"What guarantees, then, can there be that one day you will not consider the Dominion a threat to Zakuul?"
"States fight for territories, resources. What do our powers have to divide? As far as I know, the Chiss love isolation very much and do not strive for expansion of living space through extremely aggressive methods. I think if our diplomats had the opportunity to meet and negotiate, we would find good allies in each other. But, if it comes to that, I give you my PERSONAL word – the Empire will not take any aggressive action against the Dominion. My word should be enough for you, I hope?"
Mitth'raw'nuruodo's eyes flashed, glancing at the guards behind him.
"And if your people do not accept me?"
"Xenophobia is not the way of the Empire of Zakuul," I chuckled. "I think, in the weeks you have spent as our guest, you have already encountered the settlement of Twi'leks and other non-humans who live here."
"What will happen if I want to leave the service of the Empire?"
"In that case, I do not recommend trying to take anything from Zakuul's property with you," I replied coldly. "It's dangerous for your health."
"Fatally dangerous, I understand?" For the first time, a semblance of a smile appeared on the Chiss's face. Now his face looked more like a skull's grin.
"So, have we reached an agreement?"
What was the point of answering his rhetorical question? He was the smartest sentient being I had to recruit. He understood everything himself.
"The risk is worth taking," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said. "I am ready to come under the command of a worthy staff officer of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul."
"I don't remember mentioning anything like that in my speech," I replied coldly. "It seems to me that giving you under someone's command would only limit your strategic genius."
"You will unconditionally entrust me with an armed detachment?"
And again, that slight movement of the eyebrow. Ah, my dear exotic, do you not think it is that simple?
"I am used to trusting my officers, Mitth'raw'nuruodo. But you are right. You will not go to the Unknown Regions alone. I will give you a fleet and all the necessary resources. Have you had a chance to get acquainted with Zakuul's starships?"
"Yes. Kar'das was not stingy with information."
"In that case, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, your new flagship – the Star Destroyer 'Admonitor' – awaits you."
"One ship?" Thrawn allowed himself to smile.
"'Death's Head', 'Overlord', 'Imperious', 'Inexorable', 'Relentless', 'Stormhawk', 'Bellicose', 'Nemesis', 'Chimera' – all these Harrower II-class dreadnoughts are just the core of your new fleet. Ten 'Terminus'-class light cruisers and a hundred 'Dreadnought'-class heavy cruisers await you in orbit," I explained. "The Empire is ready to provide you with ten corps of elite shock troopers and any necessary equipment. Your companion on the upcoming campaign is already waiting on the flagship. I think you will work well together."
"As you command, ... Emperor," Thrawn gave a slight bow. No servility or sycophancy. A dignified movement with which good soldiers greet their commander's initiative. "May I recruit other sentients in your name for the service of the Empire..."
"I am inclined to believe that this would be the most logical initiative. Especially since even among the Dominion's officers, there are those who share your views."
"Yes, that is so," Thrawn remarked coldly.
"I advise you to start with them," I looked into the Chiss's eyes, scanning him with the Force. Satisfied with what I could feel, I continued, "You will need an operational base in the Unknown Regions. Do you have a suitable planet in mind?"
A holographic map of the galaxy appeared in the air above our heads. Thrawn, tilting his face up slightly, instantly oriented himself and pointed to a star cluster I knew.
"As I see, Zakuul knows about the Niruan system," he remarked.
"Undoubtedly," I chuckled. "Supply ships are already in place."
"In that case, I should be leaving," the Chiss said, looking me in the eye.
"Absolutely, Mitth'raw'nuruodo."
Sensing that the audience was over, he turned sharply on his heels and took a few steps towards the exit.
"And one last thing, Thrawn," I said, not looking away from the galaxy map. The Chiss froze, turning to face me. "Make your uniform presentable. White suits you better."
"As you wish, Emperor," the officer bowed lightly once more.
"Go, Grand Admiral," I said. "Bring peace and tranquility to our Empire."
***
"Enough with the polishing, sir," Lieutenant Blade grumbled jokingly, checking the level in the can of hemostatic fluid. "A little more polish, and the barrels will see you from orbit without equipment."
Captain Zachary's clone hand froze mid-motion, a razor held between his thumb and forefinger. Turning his head, he gave the scout a stern look.
Blade, pretending to be interested in the volcanic dust settled on his boots, hurried to avoid his commander's gaze.
Zachary returned to the interrupted procedure. Feeling his bare head, like a knee, with his hand, he was satisfied with the result. Now all that remained was to deal with the stubble on his face...
The 611th Assault Corps was having a field day across the former 15th Sectoral Army. For example, the "Aurek" company, which had been deployed to Lesser Marik less than a week ago, was busy punishing separatists for their reckless placement of resource extraction facilities near the front line.
A small – only about five thousand square meters in area – Separatist enterprise, located on a volcanic planet where the landscapes of bleak rocks alternated with the irritating cacophony of volcanic eruptions and the sharp hiss of thermal geysers, was preparing raw materials for the separatists, drawing them directly from the planet's depths. And every day, hundreds of thousands of tons of molten metal were purified and delivered in the depths of huge cargo ships to droid production factories. To gain their life in the form of deadly Separatist combat machines.
The reconnaissance, for once, had not failed, accurately determining the military contingent on the planet – a battalion of B-1s and a hundred personnel. For the battle-hardened corps fighters, it was a matter of a couple of hours. Which, in general, is what happened. It's just surprising why they were given a couple of Jedi at all. Zachary could have managed on his own. No, they had to put on this circus of acrobatics and lightsaber swinging for some reason.
It was good that the Jedi survived. The last time they were commanded by a Jedi, he didn't live more than an hour. Why, for goodness sake, rush to the front lines when all you have for armor is faith in the Great Force? Missiles don't care what god you worship, and shrapnel is merciless to everyone.
What it was, Zachary didn't know, nor was he particularly interested. Well, certain sentients believe that there is some higher Force around, and to hell with them. As long as it doesn't cause harm.
He felt his skull, shining like a mirror, with his free hand, checking if there were any hairs left on it. He hissed slightly, feeling that he had once again grazed a scar on the right side of his head with the razor. Hutt medics, couldn't they have made it more precise? Yes, of course, it's good when the command cares about its fighters – feeds them well, lets them recover after battles, monitors their health. But what about these widespread brain scans? Medics said it was a prophylaxis against biological weapons, which the separatists had used on Republic planets more than once recently. Yes, such a theory had a right to exist – especially after the news on "soldier radio" that during the second attack on Kamino, the Separatists tried to seize the genetic samples of their creator – Jango Fett.
Zachary ran the razor over his chin, removing excess growth. When it grew back, the stubble itched under his helmet, and it annoyed him. Shaving was not only a mandatory daily procedure for him, but it also entertained him in his free time. And it was even a kind of calming ritual. Especially now, when his head was buzzing with fatigue.
The unbearable heat on the planet made many clones scratch themselves in the most indecent places. Therefore, hygiene, already exemplary in his company, became even more important during their stay on this Hutt planet.
Discovering a missed patch of short, prickly hairs on his chin, he continued to shave them off with precise, light movements. Fortunately, the complex on Lesser Marik was wisely equipped by the Confederates with living quarters. Now, free clones were huddled in this slight coolness. A couple of detachments continuously patrolled the perimeter and observed the surrounding space – after their corvette was damaged in an orbital firefight, the Republic, having escorted the captured Trade Federation "Lucrehulks" with holds full of metal, had not yet sent orbital cover. And the second "Marauder" on orbital duty, although an impressive ship, was too weak a defense against an inevitable counterattack.
General Utrilla said that the systemic army command planned to deploy a full corps of volunteers and an orbital station with a small escort fleet here. Given that "Ghent" suffered significant losses in regular skirmishes, a large number of resources were needed to repair damaged starships. So, this world definitely had to remain under the control of the systemic army. And therefore, it would have to be fought for.
"If the technicians don't fix the communication system," during the battle, one of the clones accidentally threw a thermal detonator into the command center, and as a result, most of the equipment was reduced to scrap metal, "you'll have to use my head as a reflector for directed signals. Lieutenant Griff will be puzzled."
Blade laughed.
The young commander of the "Marauder" was liked by all the clones in his company without exception. Open, polite, competent, he did not hesitate to communicate with them without any prejudice – a trait that, it must be said, prevailed among the officers of the tenth systemic army. Zachary recalled that Grand Moff had unceremoniously removed several officers from the bridge of starships when it became known that they spoke extremely arrogantly and negatively about their clone subordinates.
Despite the fact that the Grand Moff was a Jedi, he was loved in the army. He was one of the first temple knights to prove that clones were not cannon fodder to him. General Krell himself, with whom Zachary had fought in the 15th Sectoral, did not shy away from sending clones into the most insane attacks, even when there was an opportunity to bypass the droid fortifications instead of storming them. The captain would never admit this to anyone else, but when he learned that the Jedi had survived a close-range Separatist missile explosion, he felt indifferent.
Clones do not discuss orders. Even after General Krell, before retreating on Svivren, ordered the bodies of all the killed to be laid out in the square and ordered the AT-TEs to drive over the corpses, turning them into a bloody mess. "So that the Separatists do not know the number of our losses," he explained his thought. After which, he commanded the tank drivers: "Box! Bury the guys!"
However, after transferring to General Dougan's command, having passed all these tests and examinations at the medical center on Christophsis, the clone, replaying this situation in his head, came to a conclusion that initially shocked him. He regretted that General Krell had survived. This Jedi is a butcher. And he has no place in a command position. It's good that he's somewhere else now. Otherwise, who knows – would the assault on the complex have cost only a dozen wounded soldiers? Or would the "Aurek" company have found its grave on Lesser Marik.
For the first time in many days, there was a brief respite. They had completed their task: captured the complex. And now, despite the enormous temperature of the planet, the clones could rest a little. Even if not in the most comfortable conditions.
"How are your guys?" Zachary asked, putting his helmet on his head. He had to make a round, but without a closed armor system – it was simply torture. In armor, the temperature at least didn't rise as quickly.
During the last patrol, Blade's detachment got caught in the epicenter of a geyser eruption. There were no fatalities, but most of the clones suffered from thermal effects. And now they were recovering in the medical center. It's just a pity that the Separatists didn't take care of a large supply of bacta at their facility, so it wasn't possible to get the soldiers back on their feet quickly. Now, wrapped in bacta bandages, they looked more like ancient mummies than living people.
The plastoid armor, supplied by the Kaminoans, although it didn't hold up well against blaster fire, was still a better solution than fighting without armor at all. And even if this armor wasn't comfortable, there were rumors that new armor was being developed for the clones.
Although, damn it, they could have been supplied with armor like the ones some commandos and soldiers of the 204th Legion sported. That's where the protection was needed. Heavy armor capable of withstanding several shots from small arms, even better equipped than the commandos' "Katarn." But, unfortunately, it was not supplied in large quantities and was primarily intended for veterans of the 13th Sectoral Army. Zachary grinned, thinking that these guys had everything differently. They even had their own flags and emblems. Not just smudges, which many units decorated their gunships or fighters with. But made by professional specialists and approved by command.
No one knew exactly under what circumstances units received the right to their own insignia. But it could be said for sure that all these guys had been through hell, literally earning the right to insignia with their blood.
Zachary felt sound pulses from the sensors built into his helmet. He took off his helmet to adjust the volume. Having survived several months of continuous use, the armor's electronics required debugging. If you don't do preventive maintenance in time – that's it, consider yourself walking in an expensive, useless shell. At the same moment, a roar sounded behind them. And a moment later, he felt a shockwave.
The ground shook with a powerful explosion, then a second.
Blade instantly got out of bed, putting his helmet on his head on the go and checking the charge of the cartridge in his carbine.
Through the metallic roar of hailstones, a scream broke through:
"Alarm!"
"Thank you, we noticed," Zachary thought grimly. No, it was clear that the Sepoys had returned – they simply couldn't leave them alone. But, for God's sake, how did the duty shift sleep through the appearance of something capable of artillery fire near the planet?
"I'm at the command post," he explained to the lieutenant, finding himself in the corridor. "Get to the front lines and find out what's what. I'll try to contact Lieutenant Grif."
Blade saluted silently and rushed in the opposite direction.
Hutt, this day was so good!
***
Without looking back at the pile of mangled bodies or the single wounded soldier, whose right side had been torn off by shrapnel, Miki grabbed the rifle of one of the fallen brothers and peered out from cover. Both Jedi generals – Tolm and S'aa – were already outside the position and were now maneuvering in plain sight of the enemy, trying to distract the advancing enemy's attention from the bustling clones. Foolish, of course. But this pair had already shown that they could survive any situation. To recall how they single-handedly cleared an enemy artillery battery that was hindering the landing.
The clone reached the smoking wreck of an AT-TE with quick dashes, crouching behind which he was able to catch his breath. Not scary. Well, so what, two fragments in the side and a couple of broken ribs. They've dealt with worse.
Peeking his head out from behind the tank's walking support, he saw the droids, rank after rank, advancing on them like a wall, moving with a terrible, supernatural synchronicity. It wasn't like a well-trained army of humans. Their precision was cold, mindless, relentless – it seemed that the tin soldiers, sweeping everything in their path, would march over you too. Yes, there are many of them – indecently many. But, still – these are B-1s.
"The tin cans don't respect us," Ogre plopped down next to him. Miki recalled with a smirk how on Geonosis they had also found themselves at the tip of a Separatist attack. Together, and with no chance of rescue. It's good that now there's a whole legion behind them. Their own 306th, entirely composed of veterans. "We counted only half a division."
"Only," Miki grunted. "A couple of tin cans will be enough for us not to see the sunset."
"You wound me, commander," Ogre took off his helmet. "Now the AV-7s will deploy – and only bolts will fly from them in all directions."
"Be careful not to hit the generals," the marshal advised. "We'll have enough trouble later..."
"You wound me," the commander repeated. "General Tolm himself ordered us to aim carefully."
"Well, everyone wants to live," the corps commander grunted.
Miki aimed his blaster. A shot – and a B-1, which had somehow ended up in the opening of the destroyed base gates, face-planted into the damp earth.
After a bloody slaughter in orbit, the landing units of the 77th Reconnaissance Corps were hastily disembarking on the planet. Every inch of this vegetated world had to be paid for with sleepless nights, doubled vigilance, or one's own blood. The tropics covering the planet hindered the deployment of heavy equipment, affecting both the Republicans and their opponents equally. Droids could not approach the clone base created deep within the impassable thicket, but the soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic also had no opportunity to break out into open space with all their might.
A positional stalemate. This is how the senior Jedi General, Dark Woman, described the current situation. It was she, together with General Mo, who, taking a mechanized group, went on a raid into the enemy's rear – a legion loaded onto "Juggernauts" is a force that the tin cans will have to reckon with. Especially when orbit is behind the Republic.
In conditions where the tin fleet had fled, over seven hundred thousand droids of all kinds were trapped on the planet. Fortunately, Vice Admiral Pellaeon actively supported the ground forces, conducting regular bomber raids on detected enemy positions. This cost the separatists more than half of all their available forces. Now, following the example of the clones, they had concentrated their forces into two large camps deep in the jungle, using the huge crowns of trees for camouflage. Yes, there was also a third CIS camp, the main one.
The separatists, in their favorite tactic, captured the planet's capital, bristling with proton cannons and remnants of aviation. Holding the locals hostage, the CIS mercenaries had practically secured a human shield for themselves. Their artillery did not allow them to target the Republic's supply ships, and the annoying "Vultures" or "Hyenas" were persistently chased by "Bounty Hunters" or "Flows." The capital had enough food and medical supplies for several months. However, Dark Woman did not intend to linger here.
Miki often caught himself thinking that he couldn't address the Jedi without an internal smile. "General Dark Woman, ma'am, may I report!", "General Dark Woman, may I address you!?" Who told her that such a pseudonym wouldn't cause awkwardness?
However, one way or another, Dark Woman proved herself excellently in military operations. Speeder bikes and "Juggernauts" made constant raids, striking at the supply lines between the enemy's main and forward bases. Each such sortie was not without a noisy firefight and a large number of destroyed droids. However, the clones also suffered.
After each such raid, they had to dig graves for fallen brothers – a process that, after more than a year of war, had become ingrained and ordinary. What was new was something else.
Grand Moff Dougan's directive required every unit commander to keep a record of places where comrades died. Subsequently, when the territory came under Republic control, funeral teams were sent here, who erected monuments at the places where clones died to immortalize their military feat. To be honest, Miki himself didn't see the need for it. What difference would it make to future generations what the soldiers from the test tube did? However, the army's high command seemed to have its own thoughts on this matter. And, judging by the fact that many of the clones considered such a practice correct, then the command's actions could also be considered right. At least, it ensured authority among the soldiers of the tenth system army and mild envy from brothers from other units of the Grand Army of the Republic.
Miki, throwing away an empty cartridge, noted that both Jedi Generals, ceasing to hold back the pressing droids from the destroyed gates, were slowly retreating under the cover of clone blaster fire, who had climbed onto the fortifications.
From the height of an interceptor's flight, the base looked like a regular hexagon, protected around the perimeter by high permacrete walls, crowned with gun turrets and embrasures for repelling attacks. In the center was the control room, which was responsible for the operation of most of the base's sections. Here was the communication center, the operational center, and indeed most of the main control systems. The backup command center, by order of Dark Woman, was located in the bowels of one of the "Juggernauts" modified with additional armored plates. If imaginary lines were drawn from the corners of the base to the control room, one could get six zones. The first was a landing pad for transport starships, which regularly delivered new equipment to replace destroyed ones, food, medicine, and ammunition to the surface.
The second was covered positions for several escort squadrons, which were based on the surface and did not allow the remnants of enemy aviation to bomb the republican base.
The third and fourth sections were occupied by warehouses and repair workshops, where work continued day and night.
Well, the last two were allocated for barracks and various accompanying buildings, so necessary to ensure the life support of such a large number of garrison soldiers.
Miki noted how the heavy stationary repeaters started working from the top of the fortified walls. Excellent. So, the calculations were in place, and the droid attack would soon falter. All that was needed was to hold the base gates, not to let the enemy into the deployment. However, noticing the rumbling walkers moving towards the destroyed gates, Miki concluded that the enemy was not destined to break through.
"Now the fun begins," Ogre grinned, preparing to dash to the next cover.
***
The Marshal fired a series of shots at the vanguard of the droids. This would at best only slow them down. Tested. The game here was for numerical superiority, and the droids had it overwhelmingly.
The clone warriors, who had briefly forgotten their sleep or were refueling with dry rations, were caught off guard and were now hurrying to take defensive positions.
Commander Naluan appeared nearby. General Fort followed her.
"Where the hell did they come from?" the girl said, not mincing words. Her teacher, hearing the girl's words, winced.
It seemed the senior Jedi was not too pleased with his young colleague.
"I told you they fell on us too suddenly," he said, bending his laser sword into an arc to deflect a hail of blaster bolts from its trajectory. His words were drowned out by the roar of gunfire. "Victory, Deran..."
"Victory, General?" Mifispi was surprised. "It seems to me they're going to tear us to pieces right now."
"Patience, Marshal-Commander," the Jedi said conciliatorily. "For now, we are holding on. And you, my young student, should not panic. There are not that many droids."
The clone, peeking out from behind the corner of the building, cast a disapproving glance at the advancing ranks of droids, behind which, moving their huge supports, were the combat tri-droids "Octaptarra." Not that many?
"Tell me you're joking, General," the clone said. "There are thousands of them! If only we had a squadron of bombers..."
"It wasn't me who gave the order for the fleet to retreat," General Saydem Fort, clutching his laser sword with both hands, stood firm.
"We shouldn't have let Generals Shrain and Marek go in pursuit of the droids," the clone said through clenched teeth. "Admiral Tigellinus is now trapped and unlikely to hold out for long."
"We are all to blame, and let this be a lesson to us. The second wave is coming. To arms!"
Mifispi shook his head disapprovingly, meeting the gaze of the Jedi's student. She, pursing her lips, looked at her mentor with a prickly gaze, who was leading the attack on Exsarga. A failed attack.
At the cost of huge losses, the fleet managed to break through a corridor for landing troops on the surface. In the chaos of the landing, the gunship with Generals Salmara and Fort was shot down, and General Marek took command. It was on his order that the remnants of the fleet rushed in pursuit of the retreating battleships of the Trade Federation. And as soon as they moved away from orbit, new separatist forces jumped to the planet from nowhere. As a result, Admiral Tigellinus's squadron, battered in battles, and the attached "Arrow" detachments found themselves surrounded. Fortunately, the clones and Christophsian volunteers managed to land on the planet with their belongings. The departing "Acclamator" transport was shot down by the enemy and was now burning somewhere in the west. General Salmara, reaching the corps' deployment with the survivors of her transport's crash, went there at the head of several regiments to save the survivors. But she ran into an ambush set by the separatist command. Two hours of fighting, and the 305th lost two regiments. The Jedi's fate was still unknown.
Generals Marek and Shrain rushed in pursuit of the retreating droids, believing they had captured their friend. And, what a misfortune – they were surrounded in the area of one of the enrichment plants.
Just think – less than a week has passed. And a whole legion of killed and severely wounded can already be recorded in the losses. How many more will there be during the cleanup of the planet from enemy forces?
As soon as they secured themselves in the capital, the 305th corps began to expand its sphere of influence, encountered large enemy forces on the approaches to the capital, and was forced to retreat. Fortunately, the engineers managed to build a somewhat decent defensive line, and now the tin cans are forced to slow down their counterattack. Otherwise, all the streets would already be strewn with the bodies of clones and volunteers.
The droids intended to take them by numbers – they kept coming and coming. They were slow and could only fight well on level ground and in open spaces, which undoubtedly gave the clones, entrenched in the dense construction of the metropolis, an advantage. But there were too many tin cans.
Mifispi signaled the forward units to retreat to the hastily erected second defensive line and disappear into the deserted streets and alleys of Exsarg City. Then he transmitted the target coordinates via the transmitter built into his helmet. Such a technical level of communication equipment freed Mifispi from the need to use hand signals, but he did it purely instinctively. And if the instrument panel were to fly off, then everyone would have to remember the old galactic methods of warfare.
From somewhere in the central part of the city, gunships emerged at a low altitude, mercilessly pouring fire on the advancing enemy. Rockets and turrets literally mixed the mechanical army with the soil, but even this swift blow was not enough to even slow down the enemy. Hutt!
Clang-clang-clang. Battle droids marched like a single, well-coordinated mechanism. The Marshal hated this endless noise.
The enemy, quickly recovering from the confusion of the sudden raid, took countermeasures. Rockets whistled in the air. One of the LAAT/i, not having time to leave the firing zone, crashed a dozen meters from the position of the clone and the Jedi.
Mifispi dashed across the street, firing indiscriminately at the enemy. The calculation was stubborn. Ten meters to his own. Two hundred meters from the downed gunship to the enemy. Droids are approaching at a speed of one meter per second. Three minutes to take measures to save possible survivors.
Looking into the broken lantern of the gunship, the marshal saw that one of the pilots was still alive. Good news. The bad news was that after falling, the gunship lay on its side, blocking access to the interior through the troop compartment.
"Move aside," he heard an order. Looking back, he was surprised to see that the Togruta padawan was actually moving behind him. And now, activating her weapon, she was looking at the bow of the damaged machine.
"As you say, Commander," he liked working with this young Jedi. Unlike the stiff knights and masters, the girl did not disdain sharing all the hardships of army life with the clones, being one of the first to volunteer for raids and be on the front lines. It was not surprising that she was valued and respected in the corps. "I'll cover you."
Sitting near the bow of the gunship, the clone, raising his rifle, began to fire sporadically but accurately at the droids. Yes, trying to stop an army alone is foolishness. But the more he could destroy now, the easier it would be later.
"Marshal!" the commlink squeaked in his helmet.
"Listening, Climber," Mifispi ducked behind his cover as soon as the B-1s started firing at his position.
"Remind me, friend, we weren't told to keep the city intact?" the commander of the Ion Group clarified.
"Are you kidding me?" the marshal roared, noticing how the Togruta, with nimble movements, cut off the cockpit lantern and, using her Jedi tricks, extracted both pilots from the cockpit. The clone mentally thanked providence that forced him to abandon the use of side turrets. Otherwise, he would now be lying in a puddle of blood of his comrade, crushed by the falling gunship. "There are only two orders – preserve the planet's industry and protect the locals."
"Ah, well, then it's even simpler," the commando chuckled. "You should get away from the gunship. It might hit you..."
"I don't like your tone," the clone rasped. Seeing that the Togruta was convinced of the first pilot's lack of vital signs, he ran up to her.
"This one is alive, but unconscious," she said, pointing to the navigator, from whom she had already managed to pull off the helmet. Mifispi shook his head, seeing that many small fragments had embedded themselves in his brother's face. Damn these tin cans for switching to shrapnel filling for their missiles.
"We need to leave, Commander," he said, throwing his comrade over his shoulder, and charting the nearest path to cover on the opposite side of the street.
"I'll cover you," the Togruta offered readily, ignoring the unambiguous gestures of her teacher, who was calling them back. Yes, right through the solid curtain of enemy blaster bolts.
"Thank you, Commander," said the clone. Noticing that the girl pursed her lips, diligently ignoring the light of her commlink, the clone placed his hand on her shoulder. "Will you get in trouble?"
"If only you knew," she nodded. "My teacher absolutely does not tolerate me acting against his plans."
"Despite the fact that otherwise we have a chance to survive?" the clone wondered, pointing out that the intensity of fire from the bow of the gunship was much less than from the opposite side, where the droids were trying to drive out a whole platoon with heavy weapons from cover.
"Sometimes I myself am surprised by his stubbornness," the Togruta sighed. "Well, shall we start?"
Mifispi, putting all his strength into running, dashed across the street littered with garbage and debris, inwardly shuddering at every close hit. If only he could make it in time, if only he could make it in time...
Finally, as soon as he and the Jedi student were around the corner of a massive skyscraper, the clone allowed himself to exhale. The heads of other clones in ambush appeared from the broken openings. They, like the other detachment on the opposite side of the street, were to strike the enemy's flank as soon as they advanced through the second defensive line.
"I'd take cover if I were you," the commlink came alive again.
Hutt commandos! Why were they acting on their own, not even obeying the Jedi?!
"Fighters, everyone to cover!" the marshal commanded. The clones, exchanging glances, taking the wounded, hurried into the building.
"And you, Marshal?" asked the Togruta, seeing that the clone intended to take a position under the protection of the building's facade.
"I'll stay here," Mifispi shrugged. "I want to see what these guys are up to..."
The next minute, it seemed to the clone as if the very air began to roar.
The monstrous roar coming from the direction of the moving enemy column was so loud that even the armor's electronics couldn't protect against it. The padawan, grimacing, fell to her knees, covering her ears with her hands.
Only a second later did the clone realize that the cause of the noise was a series of continuous explosions, which, although with less intensity, continued to sound even now.
Jumping over the edge of the window opening, he got out of the building, looking around the corner.
That part of the central street where the droids were walking had ceased to exist. The tall skyscrapers of the capital, long since abandoned by residents, were crumbling into pieces, collapsing in a stonefall onto the roadway, turning the droid army into a field of scrap metal, buried under the debris of destroyed houses.
"Hutt's children!" the marshal cursed. Apparently, this was what Climber had warned him about.
"Are you completely insane?" he called the commando commander. "You destroyed half the street!"
"We did?" the clone was surprised. "Never. The droids climbed to check our ammunition stash."
"And destroyed part of the city? What did you have in your secret stash?"
"Nothing supernatural," the commando replied indifferently. "A couple of trophy proton munitions, and a lot of explosives."
"Who are you selling tibanna to here?" the commander roared. "Did you set up the army's entire ammunition depot there?"
"No, of course not," the commando said smugly. "We just didn't immediately realize that our cozy burrow turned out to be a local gas distribution hub."
Mifispi closed his eyes in resignation.
The locals used some kind of particularly dangerous gas for household needs, which they mined in the mines – one for each district of the city. For this reason, the clones tried to limit the use of heavy artillery in areas where the gas supply could not be stopped. The gas sources on which the city stood were literally a time bomb. To prevent a collapse, the architects created dozens of closed systems, limiting the action of one gas source to the boundaries of one district. So that, in case of danger, the whole city would not blow up. Judging by the fact that a good tenth of the city turned into a mangled layer of earth, burying several thousand droids – the core of the enemy army – the commandos clearly broke the seal on the source and detonated it, thereby turning this entire part of the city into a deadly trap for the droids.
Only now did the marshal notice that the building where he was hiding was one of the first in the new district. It was clear why it had survived.
"You are sick bastards," he hissed into the commlink.
"These bastards just saved you and your people," Climber said in an icy tone. "Show a little respect, Marshal. After all, now that most of the droid army is under these rubble – we can finally finish off the remaining ones. Do you hear how quiet it is in the city?"
And indeed. The planet's capital, as soon as the last echoes of the explosions subsided, seemed to have died out. Animals had long since left this area – as soon as the shooting started. Now only clones remained here – the locals had long settled in the northern part of the city, bordering impassable swamps, which saved them from the tin cans' attack.
"Yeah," Mifispi took off his helmet, wiping his forehead. "After us, only silence remains."
"A great motto for your corps, Marshal," the commando chuckled into the commlink. "Alright, you rest here for now, and we'll go for the Jedi. Someone has to save them."
***
"It's good that the situation with the Republican invasion has been resolved," Padmé said, sipping her drink. "It's scary to think what would have happened if you and General Kenobi hadn't recognized the fake recording."
The Duchess, in whose diplomatic mission premises senators were now sitting, merely smiled politely. Through the tinsel of courteous politeness, Padmé regretfully noted the weariness on the face of the Mandalorian ruler.
"And at the same time," Senator Bana Brimu took the floor, "the question remains unclear – who needed to falsify the recording?"
Amidala nodded in agreement. A more than pressing issue. Certain forces, wanting to force the Republic to invade Mandalorian space, did not hesitate to falsify a holorecord, which was then transmitted to the Chancellor. One could only hope for Palpatine's promise to identify who this traitor was.
"Death Watch, no one else needs this," Duchess Satin said with conviction. "They failed to kill me and General Kenobi on Concordia, they couldn't get me on Coruscant either. So, their only way to seize power is to try to provoke an intervention, during which 'Death Watch' could appear as liberators, not terrorists."
"A risky move," Brimu admitted. "Surely your terrorists are cooperating with the separatists."
"I hold the same opinion," Satin sighed. "I'm still surprised why the Order hasn't reined in its former member and allows him to commit such atrocities."
"Sometimes I ask myself the same question," Bana admitted. "After the occupation of my sector and the Republic's unwillingness to continue trying to liberate it, I've increasingly thought that the Republic is no longer what it used to be."
"What are you saying," Padmé said with a hint of irritation. "We are stronger than ever now..."
"We?" the senator from the Himbarian sector was surprised. "Or Chancellor Palpatine?"
"The Chancellor is the face of the Republic," the former Queen of Naboo stubbornly continued her line. "Even if I don't agree with some of his decisions..."
"It's funny to hear that from you, Padmé," Bana shook her head. "After all, it is to you and Representative Bings that Palpatine owes what is happening in the Senate now."
"Excuse me?" The Nabooian almost choked on her drink. Wiping her lips with a napkin, she placed the cup on the table, looking suspiciously at the senator. "What do you mean?"
"You know what it's like when you dedicate your whole life to serving the Senate, and after the Republic stops trying to liberate your homeland from occupation, you start to re-evaluate what's happening," Brimu said distantly. "I'm not complaining that, at the Chancellor's suggestion, the Senate stripped me of my powers, effectively throwing me out of the political arena. Don't think it's resentment. It's just that the blinders finally fell from my eyes."
"Curious," the Duchess said, interrupting the Nabooian, who had opened her mouth. "Continue."
"Let's look at what's happening from the outside?" suggested Bana. "More than eleven years ago, you, Padmé, for the sake of saving your planet, initiated a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum before the Senate. Don't think anything of it, I supported you in this – it should have been done long ago, we've gotten too bogged down in bureaucracy. Palpatine wins, and what has changed over these years? Everything has only gotten worse. Representative Bings initiated the first wave of granting him extraordinary powers. And since then, Palpatine hasn't gone a month without acquiring new ones. He is gaining more and more power – there's not much left before he becomes more powerful than any of his predecessors in the last thousand years. And what does the Republic gain from this?"
"Palpatine is trying to restore order," Padmé grumbled. She really didn't like the tone with which the former companion criticized what was happening.
"Efforts alone are not enough, my dear," Bana smiled sadly. "In fact, it was under Palpatine that the separatists raised their heads – and he did nothing to stop the Republic from falling apart at the seams. He does not negotiate to stop the bloodshed, he vetoes the senators' initiative to strike at the strategic worlds of the CIS – not political centers, but their industrial base. The separatists do not suffer from such scruples – two attacks on Kamino are proof of this. In fact, the Senate has now become an even more cumbersome machine, incapable of solving simple issues. I was even stripped of my powers a year after my sector was conquered."
"Palpatine doesn't feel threatened from anyone," Satine said. "All his potential political opponents have either sided with him or lost any serious support."
"Or are already dead," added Brimu. "Aren't you suspicious, Padmé, that Valorum's death wasn't accidental?"
"It was a ship explosion," the Nabooian recalled. "There is no criminal background here."
The death of the former chancellor, who, after long negotiations, agreed to become the face of the opposition to Palpatine's growing influence in the Senate, was a big blow to all opponents of the current chancellor. However, the investigation conducted could not find any evidence of violent death. And where would it come from, if the vessel on which the chancellor was traveling was split into atoms?
"Really?" Bana was surprised. "The former chancellor, who lived a quiet life for more than a decade, dies immediately after openly joining Palpatine's opponents?"
Padmé flinched as if she had been hit. No, of course, such versions were heard among the senators, but there were no worthwhile proofs in principle. And speculation…
"Without strong evidence, none of the senators will dare to vote no confidence in Palpatine," she said after a pause.
"Funny," the former senator smiled wryly. "Last time, that didn't stop you…"
"Listen," Padmé began to get agitated. "Valorum…"
"Ladies," Satine said conciliatorily, raising her hands. "We all need to calm down. We won't achieve anything by shouting. And what will Senator Chuchi think of us?"
Trying to maintain an impassive mask on her face, Amidala cursed mentally. How could she forget about Rayo, whom she herself had invited to this meeting?!
The Pantoran, who had been sitting quietly in the office, was silently enjoying her kaff, not forgetting to indulge in pastries. The former queen thought with slight envy that the blue-skinned friend could eat anything she wanted without worrying about maintaining her figure. A fast metabolism is one of the natural characteristics of Pantorans.
"Rayo," the Duchess affectionately distracted the girl from eating sweets. "I heard that the Jedi intervened in your planet's problem…"
"Not exactly," wiping her lips with a napkin, the young senator put aside the delicacies. "Amazing," Padmé thought. "Even though she recently witnessed the fury of a raging ancient beast from Malaster, Rayo behaves as if nothing happened. However, I myself am not panicking much. Anakin did manage to stop this beast. Although it didn't bring any significant warming to our broken marriage." The Nabooian tried to push thoughts of her still-husband out of her head. No feat can correct the fact that he is becoming more and more aggressive with each passing day, infringing on her freedom and right to personal space. "The Order chose to remain on the sidelines. Grand Moff Dovul intervened. I, along with his student, infiltrated a Trade Federation ship and discovered one of Chairman Papanoida's daughters. After long discussions with the participation of Master Dovul's student, we managed to reach an agreement with the Trade Federation leadership to lift the blockade of our planet and establish an installment plan for debt repayment."
"Interesting," Bana stroked the armrest of her chair thoughtfully. "But you still haven't solved the food crisis on the planet?"
"That's partly true," the Pantoran blinked. "Master Dovul arranged with the government of Yukio for food supplies to our planet at prices slightly above cost."
Padmé felt another pang of envy. They are not much different in age, and yet the senator looks almost younger than the former queen herself. I must say, Master Dovul made a good choice in favor of his favorite. Although Chuchi tried to pretend not to understand the hints, Padmé was still confident in her assumptions. Honestly, would a Jedi, and a Grand Moff at that, go to such lengths for one backwater planet? Very doubtful, if he hadn't been asked by his lover, who is also a senator of it. For example, despite everything that happened, Padmé was ready to bet her hand that this Jedi would definitely not show concern for Naboo. Not the degree of relationship between them.
"Unprecedented," Kraiz remarked. "The Jedi, of course, strive to maintain peace in the galaxy, but to act in such a way… It's not like any Jedi I know."
"Oh, who are you kidding," Padmé thought irritably. "As if no one understood the reason why Obi-Wan Kenobi tried so hard to save your life and expose the traitors."
Externally, she showed nothing, she only thought to herself that the Jedi seemed to be following a certain trend. Forbidden to love openly? Find a lover who definitely won't tell her friends about your romance. I wonder if Senator Brimu also has her own personal Jedi?
"And yet, it is so," Chuchi spread her hands. "After the death of the Assembly, the Chairman led the formed government of Pantora."
"I heard that you adopted a series of new laws in record time," Padmé recalled.
"That's right," Rayo agreed. "The Chairman has strengthened his power and is now effectively the most powerful man on the planet."
"Pulling off Palpatine's scheme?" Bama squinted.
"No, what are you talking about," the young senator waved her off. "The Chairman is truly reforming our society. He introduced luxury taxes, which helped us adjust taxation and achieve a budget surplus. I couldn't even imagine that more than a quarter of the planet's population are oligarchs! And not all of them are honest. By arresting their property and accounts, Pantora was able to pay off more than a tenth of its debt to the Trade Federation in less than a month."
"An amusing situation," Bama chuckled. "So, corruption also flourished in your world?"
"I am no less shocked than you, senators," Rayo shook her head. "This has never happened on our planet, and here it is again. I don't even know how to thank Master Dovul."
"And what does he have to do with it?" Kraiz frowned.
"The Jedi Master eloquently convinced the senator and the chairman that corruption does exist on their planet," Padmé recalled. "The Pantorans just don't notice it."
"So, he's an interesting personality, this Jedi," Brimu concluded. "If only there were more like him in the Order – perhaps sectors wouldn't have to endure the horrors of this war for so long."
"Indeed," Rayo shook her head. "Since the fleet base of the tenth sector army began to be created in our system, CIS ships have stopped appearing even in neighboring regions. Not to mention that the supply line with Yukio has never been interrupted."
"And why does Dovul need a base on your planet?" Kraiz wondered. "Isn't what's already there enough?"
"The front line was recently only a few light-years away from our borders," Chuchi explained. "Now the army fleet of 'Gent' has managed to push the separatists back in our region by almost a quarter of the sector. And the placement of a republican base on the planet is fully consistent with the chairman's plans to ensure the safety of our people from a sudden invasion by separatists."
Padmé looked at her friend suspiciously. Really? She considers the placement of a military facility on the planet to be a blessing? The separatists did not consider Naboo's non-participation in the escalating conflict, even though there wasn't a single republican soldier on the planet. What can be said about the horrors that will befall Pantora as soon as Count Dooku finds out about the construction of an entire base?
"Bana," the leader of Mandalore addressed the former senator. "What do you plan to do after losing your post?"
"Fight for the fate of my world," the woman answered unexpectedly briskly.
Padmé looked at her with a touch of disbelief.
"By what means?" the Nabooian wondered. "After all, the Himbarian sector is completely under the control of the Confederacy…"
"There are quite a few systems and sectors in the galaxy that have suffered from the actions of both sides," the former senator said vaguely. "Therefore, since the Republic is not going to participate in restoring peace and order in my sector, I will have to turn to other people for help."
"The Confederacy?" Rayo Chuchi's eyes widened. "But it is Count Dooku and General Grievous who are behind the orbital bombardment of your world…"
"What are you talking about, dear," Bana smiled. "Both the Republic and the Confederacy are two states that differ only at first glance. No, I have a proposal from a completely third party in mind."
"And what is it?" Padmé inquired. And, judging by the liveliness on Satine's and Rayo's faces, they were interested in the same question.
The former senator, casting a sly glance at the gathered company, sighed languidly, taking a sip of her drink.
"I'm sorry, my friends," Amidala felt disappointed by this outcome. "But my benefactor asked me to keep this information secret. However, I can assure you – the separatist army will soon be driven out of the Himbarian sector."
"Sounds great!" Rayo exclaimed, clapping her hands. "I hope that after this, the Senate will vote to reinstate you in your position."
"I'm afraid I won't make such a mistake again," Brimu shook her head. "After my ally returns the Himbarian people their rightful right to manage their own industry and lives, nothing will make us join the Republic again. And," seeing the mute question in the Pantoran's eyes, the woman added, "especially not the Confederacy."
"Is there any force in the galaxy capable of protecting you from the wrath of the CIS?"
Padmé preferred not to think about the fact that the Republic might also not forgive the secession of one of its important and most powerful economic and industrial centers.
Bana smiled restrainedly.
"Believe me, ladies, there is. And I'm not sure that even the combined forces of the Republic and the Confederacy would be enough to defeat my new patron."