***
Anakin rushed towards the entrance of the abandoned office building. Rex – followed him, to, after making their way through the city's debris, tunnels, and passages, penetrate the enemy's position from the rear. The clone platoon, silently trailing behind, did not fall behind by a single step.
The road ran parallel to the main street of the capital of Agamar. And, despite the fact that only a short time had passed since the landing, the native of Tatooine had already managed to hate the planet with all his heart.
Once loyal to the Republic, this large, economically prosperous world had defected to the CIS. Conveniently located at the intersection of two hyperspace routes, Agamar turned out to be a very wealthy world. It was not surprising that Count Dooku had stationed one of his mechanical soldier bases here.
Kenobi and Cody, with a group of soldiers, were conducting heavy reconnaissance by fire, distracting them from Skywalker's flanking maneuver and his padawan with fire from different positions. While Obi-Wan engages the enemy, the two detachments will be able to flank and sow confusion among the droid positions.
The ruins hid them from the approaching droids. Rex couldn't see them, but he felt the ground shake under his boots. Puffs of grayish smoke rose into the air.
Anakin jumped over a ruined fountain, which was still spewing water from a broken aqueduct. In peacetime, this was probably a picturesque place. The Jedi tried to recall his recent impressions of the city that had amazed him during the first phase of the landing operation. But, as soon as Kenobi's ships had driven away the enemy, and the republican troops had landed on the surface, the illusion of external gloss disappeared.
Despite the proud name of the capital, this settlement, which paled in comparison to most cities he had visited, was just another dirty hole. Of course, the droids had contributed their share to the destruction of Agamar's settlements, but after the separatist air raids, the Tatooine native could say that the carpet bombings had only improved the overall appearance.
At least, they hadn't made it worse.
Anakin, crossing the space between two buildings, cast a quick glance at the advancing enemy. The ranks of the B-1s continued to march in a steady rhythm, making it seem as if the very ground was trembling in an epileptic fit.
It trembled like that when he strained himself to save Padmé, falling from the Senate building. And all he got was a few words of grudging gratitude that broke his heart.
It seemed like a lifetime ago. The one that caused pain.
Thanks to the chancellor's advice, he still found the strength to get through it all. It was good that Obi-Wan had already finished his business with the Mandalorian Duchess, and they could now attend to their primary task.
The war.
It took about ten minutes to go around the droid positions. They had to advance under the cover of high, sheer walls so as not to be detected from the air.
Skywalker leaped forward rapidly. When the clones stormed the building through the doors, he was already on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the area, crowned with an energy sphere. The detachment approached the parapet surrounding the sphere. Anakin watched as the roof filled with soldiers. Obviously, Rex had brought more than one platoon with him. So much the better. The soldiers chose their positions and prepared their weapons – everything they had at their disposal – from carbines to rocket launchers.
"Obri," the Jedi touched the commlink key. "Is everything going according to plan?"
"Naturally, teacher," Win replied in an imperturbable tone. "Everything is as you ordered."
Anakin felt a moment of pride. What a talented, and most importantly, attentive student. She doesn't bother him with her remarks, doesn't get in the way… Decisively, the chancellor was right. As always.
According to his plan, the padawan's detachment was supposed to take positions in the buildings opposite, which would help to trap the vanguard of the droids from three sides and destroy it with minimal losses. And how wonderful it was that for once everything went according to plan. This happened very rarely with Ahsoka.
Skywalker, standing on the wind-swept roof, estimated the length of the next jump. Ten stories below, three "Octuptarra" droids marched with their staccato three-legged gait, spitting streams of cannon fire – each was a sphere on thin, curved legs. A very dangerous, though fragile-looking, construction. Due to their height, such droids could fire from a great distance and crush not only the front ranks of the republicans. All that remained was to deal with them – without the heavy cover of the B-1s, they were just metal blanks.
"How do we proceed, sir?" Rex asked, as if he didn't know himself. The tactic used by the general was an exact repetition of what he had done on Christophsis.
There was only one sure way to take such a droid. But their small spherical bodies were a difficult target to hit. For ground units, at least. And the droids tried to shoot down gunships on approach – it was not surprising that only a few remained.
Anakin opened himself to the Force. Letting the swirling stream of energy flow through him, he felt that he could realize any of his plans. He only needed to want it – and he would win.
And when the war ends, he will undoubtedly become its hero. A true hero without fear. Because as soon as this slaughter ends, fear will recede. The dragon that shakes the walls of its dungeon within Anakin will fall. Through victory, Anakin will be able to overcome his chains of fear.
Perhaps then Padmé will return.
Sensing the energy of his padawan in the Force, Skywalker paused for a moment.
"Is it really necessary to return to what weakens you, my boy?" the chancellor asked him after he had saved them all from the Malastar monster. A good old friend who always gets to the root of the problem.
Indeed. Is Padmé, whose idealism only hinders his desire to save the galaxy, really necessary for him?
"Follow me."
"Yes, sir."
Rex secured a rope to the edge of the roof and signaled to those behind him. Skywalker didn't need such cunning methods. He simply jumped.
Anakin landed on the back-sphere of the droid he had chosen, which was firm enough for him to balance on the flat top panel of its spherical body without both of them tipping over. Now the fun would begin.
The droid found itself in a helpless position. It spun uselessly around its axis, thrashed and struggled as Anakin deeply drove his lightsaber into its upper panel. Judging by the acrid smoke that instantly rose from the opening – he had reached vital parts. Excellent.
Slightly tilting the blade in the opening, the Jedi began to increase the damaged area. The opponent's hysterical binary trill forced the knight to stop his act of military vandalism and prepare to repel a new attack.
One of the fallen droid's companions turned its cannon and fired. Well, he asked for it. They were about twenty meters apart – a trifle for such an excellent warrior as he. Pushing off from the spherical center of the droid that was falling to its side, Anakin deflected the second droid's shots with his lightsaber, simultaneously ascending like a candle.
Only to find himself on a new opponent and begin its destruction.
At this time, the clone soldiers, led by Rex, were already rushing to his aid. Opening fire, they dealt with the two closest super-droids, which had somehow ended up in the middle of the B-1 sand sea. Before the dust from the fall of the first "Octuptarra" had settled, the soldiers had managed to create a decent-sized breach in the enemy formation.
Then they ran through the ruins to attack the rear ranks of the battle droids, which by then had already realized that they were facing a rear-guard battle. Trying to hit their targets, the infernal creatures scattered debris in the air and emitted deadly fluids within a radius of several meters around them.
Anakin understood that he was taking risks. As always happened at such moments, his consciousness seemed to split in two. One half of him insisted that he should act exactly like this, while the other seemed to observe what was happening from the side, simultaneously fascinated and horrified. His body seemed to have its own superpower, independent of higher brain activity. He instinctively felt the location of every droid and every clone soldier. He easily found the pulsating blue light of Kenobi's lightsaber through the smoke of battle in the thick of the battle droids – even though they were separated by several hundred meters.
He unerringly determined the moment of Obri's detachment's entry into battle. The deafening noise – piercing screams, the screech of cut metal, explosions so powerful that it seemed the rib cage would burst – he didn't hear all this. The thoughts tormenting him at this moment were stronger than what was happening around him, stronger than fear and pain. Images flashed brightly and disappeared before his eyes like movie frames. Bringing down his lightsaber, he seemed to see again how the Tusken Raiders killed his mother. It was time for revenge. At that second, he didn't realize if the droids in front of him were droids or Sand People. Like a krayt dragon, he plunged from the last heavy droid he had defeated, and, finding himself on the ground, simply crashed into the enemy ranks, furiously hacking and slashing them.
Fragments of metal, heated white-hot, flew in front of his face from time to time. Some of them should have hit him directly, but under the onslaught of the immense Force, they suddenly changed trajectory. Skywalker would either suddenly leap onto the silhouette of a battle super-droid, barely visible in the smoke of battle, and plunge his lightsaber into its chest, or, filled with the Force, he would grip a battle droid with a death grip, tearing off its head.
How simple it all is. Ever since he revealed what happened on Tatooine to the chancellor and received his advice to use this persistent image in battle, the war had become personal for him.
Anakin could still see the hated Tuskens out of the corner of his eye: they tried in vain to save themselves, hiding in the thick of the falling droids. Soldiers in armor attacked them rapidly, hitting them with fire and vibroblades. He rushed after one of them, but Rex inadvertently interfered: bringing down the butt of his DC-15 on the fragile neck of a battle droid that was desperately trying to get up, he blocked his path. Beating the droid with his right hand, he reached for his bandolier with his left to reload his rifle. Almost without pause, he inserted another magazine and opened fire again. It was at this moment that another droid turned to him – perhaps rushing to help the first one – and was shot at point-blank range by a tracer from a blaster.
"This is not Darkness. I am not in Darkness. This is not anger."
Everything is fine - he was always told so. He fought to save his people, and if he did terrible things out of compassion and love, he remained on the Light side. Such was the path of a Jedi.
"For my mother. For my soldiers. For..."
He would have added "For Padmé" before. But not now. At this particular moment, splitting another enemy in half, he clearly understood that he could no longer fight in her name.
Not when he is rejected by her and can hardly ever restore his marriage.
The blade cut through metal with ease, as if Skywalker were mowing grass. The clone troopers, led by Rex, were pumped with adrenaline just like him, fighting no less selflessly - too fiercely to feel natural fear. And yet, at that moment, filled with a single Force, they felt different - free from the wild frenzy that had seized Skywalker, this rage that choked him.
"I am not turning dark," he mentally objected to all those who spoke of his inclination to the Dark Side.
"I have to do this," he objected to those who accused him of excessive cruelty.
"Don't stop and don't think - it will kill you," he repeated the Chancellor's instructions like a mantra. True, it didn't work well.
Anakin shook off his doubts. He was not afraid of death. Passing Rex, he rushed to attack the next row of droids, almost suffocating in the clouds of smoke and dust that stood like a pillar.
A detached, cold madness, uncontrollable and wild in its power - now literally consumed him. Just like when, avenging his mother's death, he wiped the Tusken village off the face of the earth.
He craved to kill. To crush the enemy with his mere presence. To vent everything that had accumulated in his soul. For some reason, it didn't matter that this time droids were falling under the blows of his lightsaber. He didn't care. He rushed from one B-1 to another, plunging the blade into each one's chassis. It seemed to him that he could continue like this for an eternity, and this feeling would not leave him...
Not rage. No, not rage.
Whatever it was, he had to let it out.
Deprived of the ability to maneuver, the droids collided with each other. Clones from Aubrey's squad pushed back their opponents, shooting them at close range in vulnerable spots. Shards rained down on the soldiers' armor with a crash.
"Anakin!!" Obi-Wan screamed piercingly. He spun his lightsaber around his head and with one blow took down two droids, cutting them in half. "Come on!"
At his signal, the clones activated minefields, pre-placed on the likely path of the machines' attack. How lucky that all the calculations coincided.
Piles of metal, the smell of burning and acrid smoke, craters from explosions... This is how the battlefield looked now, where only a short time ago impeccable ranks of an innumerable armada had marched. The cacophony of battle subsided. Skywalker stood face to face with Kenobi, near the disfigured, defeated droids, piled up in abundance around them. A sudden silence fell on the battlefield, making Anakin's ears ring.
"Are you alright?" Kenobi peered intently into his face, as if he saw something special there.
Anakin took a breath. For a moment, the Tuskens, the image of his dead mother and the massacre in the Sand People's camp, as well as the defeated droids, left his mind.
"Yes, Master."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan smiled into his beard, "you know you don't have to call me that anymore."
Skywalker turned to count the wounded.
His eyes fell on Aubrey, standing about a meter away from the two Jedi. How did she get here?
Looking at her calm face, the Tatooine native thought that she had undoubtedly heard his short conversation with his former mentor. If Ahsoka were in her place, some sharp joke would have already sounded.
"Rex! We need to evacuate as many people as possible before..."
This was just a lull before the storm. Clang-clang-clang - it echoed again from afar. A new wave of droids.
"We'll need reinforcements. Urgently," Anakin said.
Kenobi tilted his head back, as if expecting to see the starship they had summoned:
"I still can't contact the Admiral. The weather conditions must be the reason."
"In any case, let's get these guys out," Rex said tiredly, pointing to dozens of clones who had been injured after the battle.
Someone among the soldiers cried for help. Two men were already making their way to the wounded through piles of twisted droid wreckage. A heap of debris - that's all Anakin saw around. However, our side also had losses. At least a dozen warriors were injured.
"I'm saying, let's get the guys out! Move it!" he yelled at the captain.
The clones were inferior to the droids in numbers, but they were people - mobile, resourceful, purposeful. Droids were just machines. They fell victim to their own inflexibility in all respects. Put them in a confined space - and they are not only unable to get out of the line of fire, but simply moving will be a problem for them. To fight, they need a lot of space - that's how they are programmed. They cannot, like Rex, use the butt of a blaster as a club, or throw a grenade into a hatch and jump, like Lieutenant Bobson, who without hesitation led his unit into this battle after him, or fight selflessly, protecting the lives of their brethren, or even think. They are machines. Just stupid machines.
"I only disabled the machines. I didn't kill anyone."
Anakin felt as if he were sobering up after a binge, even though he hadn't drunk. Confused, embarrassed by this incomprehensible feeling, he hurried to push it away. The droids were advancing again, and the wounded needed to be evacuated. Together with Kenobi, his padawan, and Rex, he rushed to help carry those who could not move on their own off the battlefield.
Clang-clang-clang.
"Hold on, you brutes," Rex muttered, picking up a soldier by the shoulders and dragging him to the shelter of the portico. "I'm not saying goodbye to you."
The captain cast a hateful glance at the approaching enemy ranks.
Anakin helped carry, holding the wounded man by the legs.
Suddenly, the metallic sounds of marching ceased. Skywalker listened intently. What was that? Did nearby explosions damage his hearing? No, his hearing was fine. Something was wrong on the field. For some reason, the droid offensive had been suspended. Looking closely, he clearly saw: the ranks of metal idols had frozen, as if waiting for further instructions.
"I hope this doesn't mean they're preparing to use long-range artillery," Kenobi said. He wiped dust and droid oil from his beard with the back of his glove. "It will be beyond our strength."
Yes, unfortunately, the Jedi had nothing to counter the separatist proton cannons with. Their own AV-7s were coming in the second wave of reinforcements - the very ones they would have to go to Ord Mantell for.
Anakin heard it before he felt it. The sound was quite clear and seemed like music to them. He and Rex looked up simultaneously, and what met their gaze was even more surprising than the sound. The sight was so incredible that Anakin barely noticed how the droids suddenly, as one, turned around and retreated.
A Republic warship - a Nu-class assault shuttle - made a sharp turn over the street and headed towards the central square. The accompanying LAAT/i gunships, like predators searching for prey, rushed towards the retreating droids, showering them with rocket-blaster fire as they went.
"There you go," Rex grumbled. He gratefully handed the wounded man over to the medics, and at the same time tiredly shrugged his shoulders. "They clearly don't like being outnumbered."
Anakin turned to Kenobi, trying to look impassive, although in reality he could barely restrain a joyful exclamation: it is not customary for Jedi to give in to emotions. In this, he could certainly take an example from his apprentice, felt in the Force like a block of ice. But why? After all, he is the "Knight without fear"!
"Obi-Wan, they're retreating! It seems the arriving reinforcements have cooled their ardor. Let's go, Rex, let's give our comrades a worthy reception!"
"But where is the ship itself?" Rex tapped his helmet with his finger, indicating that there were problems with communication. "I can't get a signal within landing range."
"It will be here soon," Kenobi said. "It's time to meet the reinforcements, ammunition - and perhaps we will soon finish the battle here. After all, the Council promised to send me a new padawan."
He seemed to glow from within. It was felt that the battle had inspired and energized him. Kenobi hung his lightsaber on his belt and ran towards the square, which served as a landing site for spacecraft.
"I wonder," Anakin thought, "does this obsession, this thirst for killing, seize him in battle?"
Then he thought about the new padawan, and his stomach churned. Again, this inexplicable anxiety that gave him no peace and distracted him from the fight with the Darkness. However, it seemed he knew what it was.
"This is not the time or place to train a padawan, Master. It's a burden," he said, walking next to Obi-Wan.
"Well, I don't know." Kenobi quickened his pace, then switched to a measured run and broke ahead. "You weren't a burden. For the most part - you weren't."
"For the most part?"
"After all, it's best to gain knowledge through practice. You have already been honored," he nodded towards the silent Aubrey. "You can teach her a lot. I'm sure you need it."
Anakin exchanged glances with Rex behind Kenobi and raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. The captain merely shrugged in response.
Anakin was ready to swear that the clone was amused by this conversation. He couldn't see his face under the T-shaped visor of his helmet, but he noticed a slight tilt of his chin and, thanks to the Force that bound them together, unerringly caught his mood.
Rex gave Anakin a discreet thumbs-up in approval. He winked back. Thank you, Captain.
Meanwhile, the shuttle landed between two artillery pieces and smoothly lowered its ramp.
But it was not clone troopers who disembarked from the aircraft, nor even supply droids, loaded to the brim with containers and boxes of ammunition.
Instead, a young Arkanian woman in a Jedi robe stepped onto the square. Still a child. A child.
Kenobi was stunned.
"What is a child doing here? Where is the ship?! What is going on?!"
Anakin, seeing his former mentor's confusion, allowed himself to smile. It seemed the Council had played the same trick on him as they had on Skywalker himself on Christophsis.
The little girl straightened to her full small height and stretched her neck, looking up at Kenobi:
"Hello, Master Kenobi. My name is Hanna Ding," she bowed politely. "Grand Master Yoda sent me to be your apprentice."
"Sent you?" Kenobi repeated. "But where is the ship? Where are our reinforcements? Reserve forces?"
"Admiral Yularen is in orbit, fighting the separatist reserves," she explained. "An emergency has arisen."
"Funny, we have one too. Maybe you didn't notice..." Anakin nodded over his shoulder at the still rising plumes of smoke.
He tried not to look at Rex, fearing that the Force would convey the despair that had risen to his throat to the captain. Having just experienced blissful relief after the droids retreated, realizing the full horror of their siege again was a heavy blow. No reinforcements, no chance to rest from endless battles... Complete hopelessness.
"Didn't they receive our distress signals?" Kenobi asked. "We desperately need reinforcements here."
"Apparently so. Perhaps we can transmit information with the ship that brought me?"
"Smart and quiet," Anakin thought. Well, it seemed his former mentor would finally be allowed to raise a student worthy of himself.
Kenobi bowed politely, glad that there was at least some opportunity to benefit from the situation.
And Skywalker once again praised the Chancellor's instructions, thanks to which he could choose a padawan for himself.
"Your hand is trembling," Yoda observed.
"Yes." Kirwan looked grimly at his disobedient limb. "The price for the power I possess."
Yoda smiled:
"It is fear."
"I don't think so..."
Nax thought irritably that it was all over.
The brilliant plan had gone to waste.
First, he messed up, thinking he could kill Yoda. Naive fool. Can the greatest of living Light Side adepts die from fighter fire?
"Who died instead of you?" he asked.
"A Jedi," he replied modestly. "Whom you, Baron, will never be able to resemble."
"You are right about that, master of masters," Nax grinned. "I will not leave this planet in a body bag."
The Toydarian king, who had almost died from an scarlet blade a moment ago, hovered silently a few meters from the pair of Jedi, surrounded by a detachment of clones. Nax didn't particularly understand which of the meat droids was in front of him, but judging by the armor, which differed from that of the regular troops, the surviving trio were clearly not ordinary infantrymen.
They managed to overcome everything - the traps Nax had set for them, the droid ambushes, the pursuit, the clashes with half a dozen combat units. And they emerged victorious from each such encounter. All he had achieved was to finish off one clone and one Jedi unknown to him.
"His name was Jay Maruk," Yoda seemed to read his thoughts. "He was a good Jedi."
"Now he's just a piece of meat," Nax assured contemptuously. "As you will remain here."
"I see arrogance in you," the green master shook his head. "Selfishness has led you to nothing good."
Yoda's face expressed serenity. It was just Yoda, good old Yoda, a mentor and caring teacher.
The Baron shook his head, driving away the delusion. To the Hutts with the Jedi. He would end the threat to the Separatist movement here and now.
Behind him, a detachment of droids stood motionless. The fallen Jedi rightly believed that the forces remaining on the surface would not be enough to defeat the Grand Master.
"I lured you here with cunning," Nax said. "This is a trap."
Yoda replied immediately:
"A trap? Oh yes, it is a trap. But will it work?"
"Oh, it will," the apprentice of Dooku grinned.
He should have simply bombed the planet with his flagship's artillery. True, then the whole plan would have gone to hell. Yes, he lost the first two games - he couldn't kill Yoda and allowed him to meet King Katuunko. The latter, of course, intends to join the Republic - it's evident from his ugly face. Only one thing remains - to kill him to clear the way for the CIS candidate.
But how to do it when Yoda himself stands before him? Orbital bombardment would nullify all efforts - it would be easy to prove that it was the Confederacy that killed the king - as there are simply no other ships in the immediate space.
Nax was stalling, hoping that chance would present him with an opportunity.
"You shouldn't have turned to the dark side," Yoda said, as if talking to himself. "Do I feel its pull? Of course! But let me reveal the secret to you, apprentice."
"I am not your apprentice," Nax said. Yoda paid no attention.
"Yoda carries darkness within him," the old teacher continued, "and Kirwan carries light. After so many years! Across the vast oceans of space! Despite all the corpses you tried to pile between us. He calls to me, this little baron! He strives for the true Force like iron to a magnet." Yoda chuckled. "Even a blind seed sprouts, striving for light. Can the mighty Kirwan not achieve what an ordinary plant can?"
"What nonsense is he talking?" Kirwan thought. Yoda is clearly out of his mind. And because of this, the Jedi have strayed from the true path, turning into the attack dogs of the rotten Republic. Dooku saw this - that's why he left. And Nax sees it.
After a pause, he said:
"I've gone too far down the dark path to turn back."
"Pfe." Yoda snapped his fingers. "An empty universe - where is it now? You are alone, and no one is your master. Not even Dooku. Every moment the universe destroys itself and begins anew." He poked the man hard in the chest with his staff. "Choose and start again!"
"I have already made my choice," Nax grinned. "I have become stronger than any Jedi."
"You have only cultivated your self-conceit, nothing more," Yoda remarked sadly.
"This," the blade in Kirwan's hand came alive, tracing an intricate figure before him, "we will now check."
With a movement of his palm, he lifted one of the clones into the air and threw him down the cliff. Yoda's eyes widened in horror.
"Do you want to help him?" Nax inquired obligingly, signaling the droids. The air filled with scarlet flashes. The king's guards, caught by surprise, fell to the ground and no longer moved. However, the clones, living up to their reputation, instantly found cover behind the nearest boulders, from where they began to fire at the droids walking towards them.
With one jump, Yoda was at the cliff edge. Nax didn't need to use the Force to understand what was happening there. The soldier was flying through the darkness towards the rocky cliffs, screaming and waving his arms. Squinting, Yoda reached out with the Force and caught him in flight at a height of just under three meters above the ground. Then he carefully set him on his feet.
At the same moment, he himself soared into the air and managed to dodge a powerful Force Push, reinforced by the fury of the fallen Jedi.
Nax's scarlet lightsaber flashed through the air like lightning: leaving a burning line on Yoda's robe, it cut his favorite cane in half.
Yoda drew his own sword, simultaneously descending softly to the ground behind the servant of Dooku.
"I do not want to cause you pain!"
"Strange," the latter noted. "But I will gladly kill you."
The moment Yoda lost sight of the threat from the droids, they, obeying the former Jedi's signal, began to fire their blasters at the small opponent. The Master, leaving the clones to deal with the enemy themselves, rushed to Kirwan. He was gathering energy to unleash his fury on the clones and the king, who was rapidly retreating down the mountainside. Turning, he swung his blade from bottom to top. Yoda had to parry the lunge of his former student.
However, how can even the strongest Jedi resist the power of the Dark Side?
The tip of the scarlet blade burned a fiery line along the old master's shoulder. The Baron's blow was as fast as a snake's strike. And Yoda didn't even seem to notice this burn.
"I wounded you!" Kirwan exclaimed triumphantly.
"And not for the first time," Yoda replied, parrying a new combination.
The Sith apprentice, immersing himself in the Force, felt Yoda's efforts to distance himself from the pain. Truly, it was even funny.
The Jedi's sword flared with the same furious green fire that blazed in his heavy-lidded eyes.
"But you didn't kill me, you had a chance once. It was a mistake. Yoda has survived dangers for over eight hundred years that you can't even imagine."
"I know how to kill now," Kirwan hissed.
Yoda's eyes widened - the strip of green flame was almost pressed against his face.
"Yes - but Yoda knows how to survive!"
Their swords clashed, weaving a web of green and red fire. But the green burned hotter. Faster. Under other circumstances, Kirwan might have thought that the elderly Grand Master was using the Dark Side - so furious were his attacks. Slowly, step by step, the Baron retreated; and in the cool, intoxicating air of Rugosa, Yoda was terrifying to behold.
"Yes," Kirwan whispered, lowering his weapon onto the small master. "Feel me. Feel my treachery. You taught me for so many years, raised me. You trusted me. And now I, your beloved son, am killing Jedi, one by one. Hate me, Yoda. You want it."
The Baron struck fiercely with his sword. Yoda quickly stepped back: the red blade hotly cut the air mere centimeters from his robe. Yoda jumped, spun, and delivered a powerful kick to the opponent's back in mid-air. The latter, cursing, tumbled through the thick grass. At the last moment, he dodged and avoided the master's penetrating thrust. He struck sharply at the place where Yoda had been a second ago. They faced each other again. Their swords clashed, frozen in equilibrium.
"You are skilled," Yoda said, breathing heavily.
"I had excellent teachers," Kirwan said proudly.
Yoda fell and rolled to the side, aiming for his ankles. The Baron jumped, did a backflip, and landed lightly on the floor, turning to face Yoda. Jumping to his feet again, the old Jedi turned and struck; his green blade hit the opponent's sword with force, forcing him to retreat. Dooku's student attacked recklessly, forgetting everything but his rage, sinking deeper into the Dark Side with each movement. The swords hummed, hissing and scattering sparks.
He brought down a blow on the little master's head. Yoda parried, Kirwan's blade hit his weapon. Yoda took a deep breath, calming himself.
"And yet, even here... I love you enough to destroy you."
He began to push Nax back again. The lightsabers flashed with fiery streaks - blood-red and sea-water green.
The Baron deflected Yoda's rapid blows, streams of sweat running down his face, his lips white with tension. A battle raged around them: clones were crushing battle droids, advancing wave after wave.
Yoda raised his head:
"Have you made your choice, Baron? Are you sure about it?"
"I want to point out again that I am no longer your student," the Duke's follower said with force, breathing heavily. "Of course, there was always a chance that you would defeat me."
Yoda attacked; Dooku's follower parried the blow.
"Therefore, I ordered my dreadnought," Kirwan began to cautiously retreat towards an open window, "to deliver an orbital strike immediately after my life ended." The Baron paused, catching his breath. "King Katuunko, your precious clones - they will all die when the 'Overlord' opens fire. So decide: what is more important to you, Master Yoda? To save their lives or to take mine?"
For a moment, the duel stopped. The Grand Master, immersed in the Force, could sense the truth of his opponent's words. And, quite unexpectedly for the Count, he extinguished his blade.
"Consider this duel won, Kirwan," he said. "By dishonor and threat to innocents."
"They are the ones," the fallen Jedi pointed towards both clones, who, despite their victory over the droids, were not in a hurry to emerge from their shelters. "Or him," another wave of his hand was directed at the Toydarian. "You are all guilty, Grand Master. Your blindness has brought the Order to a boiling point. Wasn't it enough that a thousand of your apprentices left the Temple when you wanted to join the war between the bureaucrats? Weren't all the sacrifices the Jedi have already made enough? No, Grand Master. Admit it – you broke the will of the Jedi with your ignorance, turning them into obedient weapons."
"You are mistaken," Yoda said quietly. "We are stronger than ever!"
"A dozen, yes, that's about right," Kirwan scoffed. "Vindoo, Kenobi, your new pet Skywalker. And that scum Dougan. The rest are snot-nosed kids compared to us."
Hearing his ship break through the atmosphere, the Baron extinguished his blade and returned it to his belt.
"A little more time will pass, Master Yoda," he said, "and the Jedi will understand that they are not fighting on the wrong side at all. We are not the villains – you are."
"Consider it done," the Grand Master said indifferently, "victory will be ours. And we will bring each of you to justice."
"We'll live and see," the fallen Jedi chuckled, ascending the ramp onto the yacht. "And until then – goodbye, old teacher. And pray that at our next meeting, my aristocratic politeness will allow me to spare your life."
Trying not to meet the green Jedi's gaze, the Baron walked into the yacht's salon and plopped onto the seat. To hell with it. Let Dooku be displeased with the failed mission. But he would be extremely pleased with what Kirwan would tell him.
Yoda is weak. And even in a moment of extreme need, he will not be able to sacrifice himself, even to stop the Sith.
And if so, then the Confederacy of Independent Systems is doomed to success.
Not finding a better moment, a sudden revelation came to Kylie as she was showering before heading to the medical center. She reached for a towel to wipe the moisture from her face and hands – she preferred a water wash to an ultrasonic one, even when the latter was working. And as her gaze slid over her wet reflection in the mirror above the small sink – it suddenly came to her...
The answer lies in the Force.
This should not have been a revelation. She had uttered these words a thousand times, at least; a litany under the sounds of which every Jedi apprentice grew up: "When in doubt, trust the Force. You may not always interpret it correctly, but the Force never lies."
She knew this. She had learned it in childhood and grew up, understanding the meaning of these words better and better and believing in them with all her soul. "The Force will not let you make a mistake – it is eternal, boundless, and omnipresent. If you know what to ask, where to look, and how to understand it – there is always an answer in it that you need."
After all, how many times had Master Yoda and Vokara Che repeated these words to her – gently, but with a calm that came from absolute certainty.
"Use the Force, Kylie."
Do not think, do not worry, do not get distracted by petty details, by nagging concerns. Just use the Force, trust it, rely on it. Because that is the life of a Jedi. Not in the past, not in the future, but in this eternal moment of joyful understanding, this ever-lasting present. Do not let the fear of error make you miss your chance.
The Jedi healer dried herself, hung up the towel, and looked in the mirror. Her face was reflected there, much calmer and more serene than before. Yes, of course. It's that simple! A perfect example of those peculiar riddles that Master Yoda likes to pose to help your mind break free from narrow thoughts and concepts.
The question is: how should she determine whether to use bacta again to strengthen her connection to the Force? The answer: ask the Force.
And what was the strongest, most powerful, and best connection between her and the Force?
Meditation.
Not the simple one she had used so far.
The girl tried to concentrate, opening her mind to the Force.
But she couldn't.
Not after what she had done.
If someone had told her that she would plunge into this ocean of passions, emotions, she would hardly have believed it. After all, she had always been proud that she could keep her mind closed to the temptations of the Dark Side.
And instead, she allowed the Darkness to penetrate her.
Now she did not regret that she had succumbed to Dougan's words and shared his bed. After all, she was a woman, albeit a Jedi, and nothing human was alien to her.
However, later, when her knight-Jedi friend revealed the role intended for her in their master's Plan... the girl realized that she had to do something, to expose his conspiracy. Unlike most Jedi, she could resist mental techniques. That's why it became bitter – the realization that her hero, a man without fear, an icon for the Order, was actually just a traitor.
The pretense was revealed faster than she could send a coded signal to the Temple. Aayla captured her, disarming her with ease and imprisoning her in the guest quarters of the Citadel – a place of power and authority for Dougan.
And, frankly, for the first time she felt that her one-sided gift – healing – had become more of a burden than a means of serving the Force.
But now...
She felt crushed, humiliated... and angry.
It was as if the first experience had somehow adjusted her, revealed her feelings as it should, but this time it washed over her almost instantly. A wondrous feeling of closeness, combined with awe, wonder, and novelty, an amazing, breathtaking feeling, its breadth and depth stretching into infinity...
The Unifying Force.
She thought she was ready for this, but she was wrong. It was simply too... vast. She didn't know how one could accept this, fully comprehend it, grasp it. It didn't fit into her limited understanding – like trying to depict the sparkling, multifaceted magnificence of firestone in a flat, two-dimensional image. Her senses, confined to three dimensions, could not even remotely describe it. But she didn't need to describe it, she realized. She just needed to accept it, to connect with it. It was majestic, sublime, and frightening at the same time.
The fear that it was all an illusion disappeared. Someone might say that this was not a genuine connection with the Force, since it was caused by something external, and not achieved through inner balance and meditation. She herself might say so – but not now. This cosmic unity could not be untrue – she felt it in the very essence of her being.
It didn't matter how she got here. Being here – that's what mattered.
It was... as if she had been starving, and, having experienced hunger to the fullest, found herself before an endless table, laden with all the delicacies imaginable. It was difficult to distinguish one dish from another, but on another level, she knew she could.
Suddenly, the "table" trembled and distorted, blurring with a riot of colors, like tangled threads of a spore silk spider. It became a giant canvas spanning the entire galaxy, a tapestry woven so intricately and complexly that it made her eyes water just to look at it. A magnificent work of art, of inexpressible beauty, of unimaginable...
But wait. Yes, there was perfection, but there was also something else. She felt flaws in the pattern; tiny, almost imperceptible defects scattered across the immeasurable expanse. It all looked as if someone, not the author of this work, had woven their own patterns into it. Kylie intuitively knew that these tiny mistakes were necessary for some reason, that they were seams in the fabric of creation – unpleasant, but nevertheless necessary. Without them, the canvas would not be whole.
After all, perfection is unattainable.
She reached out with her mind to one of those tiny rough stitches, saw it grow and change, become readable, as if...
What was revealed to her was not words or images, not smells, tastes, sounds, or touch. Instead, it was a wondrous fusion of everything, as well as feelings that flesh-and-blood creatures do not possess...
At this moment, the girl, herself part of the great pattern, understood the flaws in this canvas...
The galaxy is in danger.
The stitches are just the tip of the iceberg, hiding great misfortunes and calamities beneath them. Everything, just as Aayla had said.
For a tiny fraction of time, for a fleeting moment, she knew more, knew how, who, where, and when it was done – but this feeling disappeared, swept away by a whirlwind of energy she could not control. She could not remember the details.
Kylie tried to reach for them again, understanding how important it was. But something blocked her way...
Suddenly, she realized she was flailing, as if caught by a furious, raging river. She thrashed helplessly in it, like a twig carried by the current – by its will, not her own.
"It's all about the flaws," she thought. She saw one of them, reached for it, but she had neither the strength nor the skill, nor anything needed to manage events correctly. And now, with her attempt, she had somehow disrupted the flow of the Force. She lost her footing, that feeling of solid ground beneath her feet that had given her peace. Now she was overwhelmed by confusion and carried by the current...
No. She had power. Immense power. She would use it!
She tried to stop, but there was nothing to hold onto, nothing solid she could reach. She was caught by the flow, the storm, the avalanche, which spun and disoriented her. Deep inside, she knew she was desperately searching for metaphors for the indescribable, looking for mental analogies that would allow her to separate herself from the chaos. She fought for calm, fought to concentrate, but achieved nothing. It seemed to pour down her throat like a stream, threatening to drown her; like a storm, it carried her in all directions, squeezing the very breath from her lungs; like an avalanche, it threatened to break her. It was all of these together – and none of them at the same time.
Then it seemed to her that someone spoke in a quiet, familiar voice, the source of which she could not determine.
"Let her go," he said. "Don't fight. Take a breath and dive."
"No! I can control it, I can use it, direct it..."
"Otherwise, you will die."
Kylie felt care and concern in this voice, and somewhere deep down, she knew he was right. She took a breath, relaxed into the mighty current – and recognized the speaker.
The Jedi healer found herself sitting on the bed, blinking as if she had just woken from a deep sleep. She didn't need to look at the chronometer to know how much time had passed. She had left the shower at noon. Now she sat in the darkness.
She got up, went to the window, wiped it, and looked out. The faint glow of the lights was not enough to hide the stars in the clear night sky overhead. The constellations had completed half their nocturnal journey; it was around midnight. She... had been gone... for at least twelve hours.
Gone to a place where she had never been. Where, she suspected, few had ever been. If at all.
Kylie turned away from the window. She felt refreshed, as if she had slept well, and felt neither hunger nor thirst. She smiled. The memory of the sensations was still vivid, imprinted in her mind in the splendor of light, sounds, smells, tastes, and touch...
This is how the connection with the Force can be. This is how it should always be...
The girl realized with trepidation that for the first time she had allowed the Dark Side to participate in her life. To touch her very essence.
She frowned, feeling a tiny splinter in her memory. A flaw. A catastrophe looming over the galaxy. Compared to the cosmic grandeur of what she had just experienced, it was nothing, an imperceptible trifle against the immensity of the whole; but it still existed – like countless other flaws. And although she knew that they were generally necessary, and could not be completely eliminated – in some cases, individual tears in the fabric of creation could and should be mended.
They had shown her this for a good reason – she knew that. Just as she knew that she had to do something.
The girl felt tears streaming down her cheeks.
Did the Force itself want her to embrace the teachings of the Dark Side, mixing them with her immaculate Light? What would she become then?
And at the same time, the girl heard a whisper in her head.
"But, didn't the Darkness allow you to see the flaws? To foresee the dangers..."
All true.
Many Jedi experienced visions of the Force. But not Kylie.
Her gift was immensely one-sided – apart from healing and mediocre telekinesis and foresight, she could do nothing else. She even carried a lightsaber only out of tradition.
Vokara Che spoke of how most healers were weak in other disciplines. And this comforted her.
But now... The girl experienced a power that defied description. Could any Jedi compare to her?
"And since you have become stronger, why not continue? You know who can open the boundaries of your perception."
Kylie, after a moment's thought, concluded that the whisper was right. Throwing on her suit over her underwear, she activated the holocomm.
"Aayla? We need to talk."
Sipping whiskey, Mara watched the events on stage with interest.
The cantina, which was incredibly popular on Christophsis, had opened just a few weeks ago. But today, the establishment was packed with visitors. After all, it was the weekend. And a large portion of both off-duty officers and local residents did not miss the opportunity to appreciate the spacious venue with its bright, unique atmosphere.
No, the menu and the selection of drinks at the bar here were not much different from the best restaurants on Coruscant – during her academy days, Cross had visited a couple of them. Fortunately, she was dating a senator's son back then.
Admittedly, the repertoire of the musical group, recuperating after another song, was also not too fresh – as in most similar establishments across the galaxy.
"The Drunken Ewok" attracted the public with its concert program. The climax of which was precisely on the weekend.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," the evening's host appeared on stage, a smiling Twi'lek in exquisite clothing. "On stage, our stand-up comedian, Lana Breeze, let's give her a round of applause."
The hall erupted in applause.
Mara, glancing at her table companion, indifferently sipped her drink through a straw.
"Is this really supposed to be funny?" she asked tiredly.
"Believe me," Siri smiled. "I've been coming here for the third time – I've been satisfied so far."
"As you say, General," Mara muttered quietly. And why did she agree? She could be sitting at home, calmly sipping cocoa. She could have gone to bed earlier. Maybe she would have finally gotten enough sleep.
No, the Hutt had pulled her into agreeing to the Jedi's proposal, with whom she had become close on the grounds of supplementing the corps. And it was impolite to refuse a senior officer – especially considering that she was leaving for the front tomorrow.
So she had to recall her wild youth, changing her uniform for a form-fitting dress, and paying almost thirty credits at the local hairdresser for a fashionable hairstyle. Of course, her salary allowed it. Considering that the Jedi had bought the expensive front-row table tickets herself.
Meanwhile, a young Zeltron appeared on stage, dressed in a form-fitting suit that favorably emphasized the charms of her body. Mara gritted her teeth, recalling her last weight figures. People know how to stay in shape!
"Hello!" the star of humor cheerfully addressed the audience. "As usual, without preamble, let's get to a real-life incident. I recently received a very cool offer. A sentient being writes to me on HoloNet. 'Lana, I want to offer you secret meetings at the casino hotel complex "The Outlander",' – the girl played with her eyebrows. Then, adopting a conspiratorial look, she continued. – I'm thinking: 'Wow, the most famous hotel complex for the elite. And so far away. Amazing, what a view your wife has from the balcony!?' – sarcastic chuckles rippled through the hall. Mara took a sip of her cocktail. And what's wrong with that? Good luxury apartments. Tested from personal experience. – No," the Zeltron shook her head negatively. – "I won't tell you his name. He's just well-known in the Senate and the royal house of Alderaan," – the girl heard a stifled chuckle from the Jedi. Well, yes, she doesn't want to name him.
"Oh, guys," the Zeltron rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "What kind of idiot is this? He invites me to the most respectable hotel practically in the city center and wants it to be a secret? Anyone would tell you they were there! – the comedian grinned. – I'll be the first to post a story and expose him."
Mara felt a smile appear on her face. She had such a weakness too. "Galactagram" is quite a swamp, sucking in sentient beings. Every day on the feed, there are photos of someone's butts, breasts, painted nails, home trainers, and fitness food. It's as if all the users of this app for decks suddenly had half their brains removed and replaced with repulsorlift coolant.
"And I tell him: 'Darling, if you want the meetings to be secret – take me to Tatooine'," the Zeltron narrowed her eyes. – "Because if you're taken to Tatooine to be fucked, you'll never tell anyone about it! You'll even give him credits in the morning so he keeps quiet too!" – Applause and cheerful laughter erupted in the hall. The red-haired woman caught the Jedi's understanding glance. Well, girls are girls. Tatooine is not the Manaan hotel complex. You won't blab about such a trip to your girlfriends after a bottle of semi-sweet wine.
"And it's generally strange that he wrote to me," the comedian shrugged. "I'm thirty-five, and old men like young meat. He'll see me once at "The Outlander" without my shapewear and say: 'Ugh, do you only eat bantha meat?' I don't need that kind of happiness," she waved her hand negatively. – "Many children have been inside me," she said thoughtfully. – "Each ex-boyfriend, after breaking up, considered it his duty to reproach me, 'I gave you so many children.' Well, I'm a sentient being without complexes. I reply to them – 'Calm down, I swallowed them all.'"
The vulgar hints caused a storm of laughter.
"Girls," she addressed the female part of the audience. "Applaud if you've been given expensive gifts?!"
A thin trickle of applause was heard in the hall. Mara, forgetting her fatigue, complied with the comedian's request.
"Damn," the Zeltron was surprised. "Okay, let me clarify. Expensive – meaning no less than a bottle of Corellian whiskey."
The applause repeated, but much quieter. Cross continued to clap.
"No way?" Lana stopped in front of their table. "So young, and men are already giving you something worthwhile?"
"Of course," Mara grinned. She preferred not to talk about her romances – except that she posted "locations" on "Galactagram" where she was taken by casual connections.
"And what did your last admirer give you?" Breeze asked with disbelief.
"A speeder," Mara shrugged, adding the name of a well-known sports model.
"Not bad," the Zeltron mused. "And how old are you?"
Mara, slightly embarrassed, named the figure.
"Damn," the stand-up comedian exclaimed. "What can you do at twenty-three that I can't do at thirty-five, to get a car worth a million and a half?"
The Zeltron returned to the center of the stage, her eyes wide.
"Listen," she turned towards the girl. "Where do you even find rich men? Although, wait, let me guess. You come to a cantina, look at which of the men has a hookah on a black melon, and then, – the Zeltron slapped her thighs. – 'Oops! Smells like money here! I'll park my ass here and purr!'"
The audience burst into furious laughter. Mara felt a blush creep up her face. Siri, after laughing, placed her hand on her shoulder, as if to say, don't tense up, it's just humor. The girl gratefully thought about her decision to change her outfit and put on "war paint," which she had used in her youth precisely for "hunting" according to the scenario voiced by the comedian.
"Don't be offended, friend," the Zeltron waved in her direction. "I'm saying this out of female envy. But in general," she turned her gaze back to the audience, "there are many women in Coruscant who live off sponsors. One of my friends' sugar daddy gave her a bag for two hundred thousand credits made from nexu skin. And he spends almost two million a month on her. It's not good to count other people's money, but just imagine what their family income is, that he can take two million from the family budget for a leg-spreader, and his wife won't even notice!? In my circle, the most men can give a mistress is a chocolate bar. And even then, the wife will catch him immediately. Not because he took five credits from the nightstand, but because he leaves the house too happy. And she immediately says to him, 'Hey, you, where are you going so happy, all clean, ironed, and even washed. Give that chocolate bar back to the child!'"
Mara, without shame, burst into ringing laughter.
"That's nothing," the Zeltron continued. "She's completely lost it. I once overheard her conversation with a sponsor. He tells her: 'I want sex in the Senate box!' and she replies: 'Senator, you are insolent! I am not that vulgar!' Well, he's a man of not faint heart, he says: 'Okay, and if I give you a planet!?' And what do you think she answered? 'Proceed!'"
Roars of laughter, smoothly turning into hysterics, erupted in the hall. Mara and Siri, barely holding back, laughed heartily. Indeed, there was a certain charm in such pastimes.
"You know, I sometimes envy all these women," the Zeltron admitted. "For me to look this amazing," she gestured to her figure, "I have to constantly squat," – on the huge monitor behind the stage, a photo of the performer in tight leggings and a sports top appeared. Mara, not forgetting her principles, still admitted that the hostess had a stunning body.
"But," the image changed. Now the same Lana looked from the screen, only with a belly characteristic of the last month of pregnancy. "I only had to bend over once..."
Mara and Siri, exchanging glances, burst into unrestrained laughter.
Making sure no one was watching his actions, TX-65 sealed the backup communication center of the "Lucrehulk-class". He had, as always, no more than three minutes to prevent the surveillance systems from detecting the transmission.
Approaching the holoterminal, he dialed the address of a familiar subscriber.
"TX-65," Count Dooku said, as soon as his hologram appeared above the panel. "You are late with your report."
"A suitable moment was required, Count Dooku," the droid replied.
"Report," demanded the head of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
"Phase one is complete," the droid informed him. "As you ordered, I infiltrated Christophsis's defense system. The Jedi suspect nothing."
"However, your efforts have gone to waste," the Count reminded him. "The Resistance you organized has been destroyed, and the sabotage of the defense platforms—that too."
"This allowed me to identify the accomplices of Jedi Dougan," the droid countered. "I am sending you their holo-images."
The former Jedi paused for a moment, examining the contents of the received files.
"Two droids, a Twi'lek Rutian, a Mandalorian, a Twi'lek Lethan, a Sarkai, and a human woman," the Count enumerated. "And what of it?"
"I have identified the last two as Jedi," the droid noted. "They participated in the capture of General Loathsom. They use lightsabers."
"Strange," the Count stroked his beard. "Sarkai have not trained in the Order for over three thousand years. Force sensitivity for them is more of a rare mutational anomaly than a rule. However, I don't recall any of them in the Order. Still, it's not important—there are Jedi like a bunch of uncut gems in the galaxy. But the Mandalorian..."
From the expression on the Count's face, it was clear he was puzzled. TX-65 felt the need for additional information. But, protocols did not allow him to demand anything from his direct commander.
"I won't be mistaken if she was the one who led the attack on the Jedi Temple," the Count chuckled. "At least, the files I have show one of the raiders in that exact armor."
"I found information on both droids," the tactician reported. "The first is an assault droid from the planet Iokath, destroyed during the Second Great Galactic War. The last is an HK-series translator droid, discontinued over three thousand years ago. The Czerka Corporation created similar droids as secret assassins. I believe this model is one of those products."
"What leads you to that conclusion?"
"He and the Rutian together destroyed all of Jo Ptar's resistance."
"Ah, so that's why that pompous alcoholic isn't communicating," the former Jedi snorted. "So, our Grand Moff is playing some game of his own. Curious. What about the fleet that Christophsis is building at Rendili?"
"The order has been fulfilled in its entirety," the droid said, checking his data. "The last ships will arrive at Christophsis within two months. The total number is seven hundred units."
"Did you track the source of funding?"
"Yes. The company "Rendili StarDrive" has a numbered account, opened over three and a half thousand years ago. Until Christophsis was liberated, this account was not used or mentioned anywhere."
"Is that so? And who opened it?"
"I used Elder Aysel's access codes and identified this creature. The account was opened by the Jedi woman I indicated."
"Unexpected," a mixture of emotions flashed across Dooku's face, which TX-65 could only interpret as confusion and doubt. "So, this Jedi, and possibly all her companions—are over three thousand years old. They've held up well."
"The use of stasis or carbonite technology can halt vital processes in organic bodies," the tactician reminded him. "It's possible one of these methods was used."
"Perhaps," Dooku squinted. "That doesn't negate the fact that our Jedi is an extremely interesting individual. Where is he himself?"
"Officially—he is on vacation for the next two days. His actual location is unknown. He departed on his new flagship—a Valor-class heavy cruiser—ten days ago in an unknown direction. According to the information I have, he has not appeared anywhere on the territory of the tenth sector army."
"Another ancient," the Count chuckled, referring to the Jedi's starship. "Well, we should deal with him thoroughly. Did you find out why Elder Aysel went to Rendili?"
"He is negotiating the purchase of three hundred Dreadnought-class cruisers from reserves," the droid provided the information.
"And what's the point?"
"Christophsis refused the delivery of Tranta-class corvettes in favor of increasing the production of 'Hammerheads'. But they continue to purchase ships in good technical condition."
"Which, as always, will be transferred for Dougan's use," Dooku understood.
"Precisely."
"Good. What about the formation of volunteer corps?"
"Mercenaries continue to train reinforcements," the droid reported. "I should note that almost all Christophsians trained in the 'fleet' program, as well as a significant portion of the infantry corps, were sent in an unknown direction on passenger liners with droid pilots."
"And you couldn't determine their course?"
"It was not possible."
"Well, as always, there's no good news from you," the Count chuckled. "Continue your work, communicate strictly according to schedule."
"It will be done, Count Dooku," the droid snapped. Then he added, "May I ask a question?"
"Initiative, TX-65?" the hereditary aristocrat of Serenno wondered. "Well, perhaps I will satisfy your curiosity. Ask."
"Why did you order me and the other tactical droids on the planet to surrender to Dougan personally and gain his trust?"
"Because, my metallic friend, this Jedi is not an ordinary one," the Count was gracious. "What he did on Geonosis, his Force... all of it doesn't fit the image of a simpleton he tries to project to others. I need a loyal servant by his side to understand who he is. And, as you can see, your work for the good of the Confederacy of Independent Systems will not be forgotten. When the super-tactical droid project is completed, you will have the opportunity to become one of them."
"Glad to serve the cause of the CIS," the droid replied, as programmed. "However, I must remind you that Dougan was not at all surprised that I informed him of your false information, that Supreme Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord Darth Sidious. The logical algorithm indicates that the Jedi, with 80% probability, considers this a fact beyond doubt."
"I remember your first report perfectly, TX-65," Dooku replied sharply. "The Jedi can believe whatever he wants. When the time comes, Darth Sidious will get rid of him too. Continue your work, droid."
"Order understood, Count Dooku," TX-65 snapped, ending the communication session.