"Master," San'sii Kursk looked away from the contemplation of an ancient text—one of many taken by the founder of the Black Guard from numerous Sith academies a thousand years ago. "The guard detained a stranger at the edge of the camp."
"Something serious, Ikeru?" Casting a disapproving glance at his apprentice, the Sith inquired. "You know that I do not like to be distracted."
"My apologies," the young man, Kursk's apprentice, who would one day inherit the business of the Black Guard, bowed respectfully. "But the stranger is armed with a lightsaber..."
"A Jedi!?" Kursk's teeth ground together. The memory of how the Order had slaughtered most of the Black Guard was still fresh. Although it had happened many years ago...
"Furious Euvgum claims not," the apprentice shook his head.
"Interesting," Kursk rolled up the manuscript, made of the skin of an ancient animal, and set it aside. "Bring the stranger in."
Ikeru bowed again and threw a short phrase into the comlink. Then, as befits a loyal subject, he moved behind the back of his master's chair. A submissive warrior who lacked true Sith treachery and cunning. Like all members of the Black Guard. But it should not be forgotten that their organization was created as a counterweight to what typical Sith represented, tearing at each other's throats for the slightest bit of power.
Euvgum, the head of security, did not keep them waiting long.
The door to the spacious main hall, where the archive was equipped, opened after a few minutes—it seemed the intruder had been held nearby.
Sizing up the Letan Twi'lek, who, despite the shock handcuffs, did not look broken as a prisoner should, San'sii, taking the intruder's lightsaber from Euvgum's hands, activated it with interest. A crimson blade cut through the half-light of the room. Grunting, the cult leader deactivated the weapon. He pushed back from the table, examining the uninvited guest with maximum interest.
"We don't have many guests," he began the conversation. "Who are you?"
"I have changed many names over the years," the girl shrugged. "You can call me 'Lady Atroxa.' Or 'Darth Atroxa.'"
"Is that so," the Sith chuckled. "Darth... I haven't heard that title for a long time."
"Just a title, nothing more," the Letan smirked. "The wrapping is not important. The content—is much more interesting."
"Foolish wordplay," the man snorted. "What are you looking for here?"
"The Black Guard," she answered simply. Looking around at those present, the girl smiled charmingly. "And I have found you."
"How?"
"It's not difficult," the Twi'lek explained, tilting her head and examining the cult leader. Although, no. Not him. Kursk felt that her attention was directed at his apprentice. "It's enough to pay attention to your henchmen scurrying about the only city on the planet. When you know what to look for—tracing their path to your base is not hard."
San'sii looked at the head of security with deep displeasure. The man looked clearly embarrassed. It was understandable—the leader had expressed his remarks on this matter more than once, predicting unfavorable consequences. And here was the result. Their secret base, located in the ancient ruins of a Jedi temple abandoned a thousand years ago, had been discovered.
"And here you are," the Sith stated the obvious. "For what purpose?"
"To make you an offer you shouldn't refuse," Atroxa smiled as before.
"And what would that be?" Kursk became wary. That the guest was a Sith was already clear to him, and there was no doubt about it. But what could she offer those who, over a thousand years of isolation, had been able to gather and understand more secrets of the Dark Side than Kaan's Brotherhood and Darth Bane's Order of Sith Lords combined? And not just gather, multiplying the legacy. But, with the help of this knowledge, achieve the greatest enlightenment, looking at the galaxy in a new way. In a way that no one who had lived or was living—neither Jedi nor Sith—had ever managed.
"My master offers the Black Guard to join him," hearing this, Kursk felt a flame ignite within him.
The Sith of Bane's litter, to which this girl undoubtedly belonged, had decided to insult them?!
"Tell your master that he has nothing to offer us," he declared. "We have no need to waste our time returning to the old covenants of the Sith Order. We are above that. We have evolved."
"As my master says, 'Slowing down is also movement,'" the Letan recited. "But I do not serve a Sith."
"Then whom?" Ikeru asked impatiently. "The Jedi?"
"In that case, you will die faster than you can say anything to them," Euvgum growled, unambiguously placing his hand on his own weapon.
"And you say you are developing," there was condemnation in the girl's voice. And a biting mockery. "You are blind men who cannot see further than your own noses. If you still believe that only Jedi or Sith can dictate their will to sentients."
"Then who?" And again the apprentice forestalled his mentor. Yes, Ikeru did not demonstrate the ambitions inherent in the Sith, but he was too impatient. "Whom do you serve, Darth Atroxa?"
"The one who sees the flawed nature of both these teachings," she replied calmly. "The Immortal Emperor, whose wisdom is so great that he extends a hand of cooperation to you, offering you to bow your knee before him."
"On what grounds?" Euvgum flared up. "We are Sith, and we will bow to no one!"
"Another fairy tale for children," Atroxa snorted. "Since the beginning of time, the weak have bowed before the strong. Denial of this fact is empty polemics, undeserving of the right to exist. Such is the nature of sentients—to choose a leader and follow him. Do you think it is different for you just because you rejected the ideas of the Brotherhood? Not at all. Your sect only confirms the rule of evolution. I was a Sith. More powerful than any of you. But, meeting the Immortal Emperor of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, I bowed my knee, for such is the true order of things—the strong rule, the weak obey."
"Your master is doomed," the cult leader laughed. What curious words she spoke. Did she really think that if they were recluses, they did not know obvious historical facts? "Like the Jedi. Like all those who are not ready to accept the truth—the Force serves to understand the universe. It is a tool of knowledge, not of achieving power."
"Oh, believe me, unwise sentient," the Twi'lek bared her teeth. "My master understands that perfectly. That is why he mocks those who are so flawed that they cannot realize the truth. The Force is One. There is neither Light nor Darkness. There is only Balance. And by observing it, as it was in the very beginning, Force-sensitives can achieve anything they want. And your clumsy attempts to turn to the Dark Side for the sake of knowledge... The play of foolish children who have acquired a new toy and will not leave it until they break it. And yet," her face took on an expression of cold composure. "The Emperor offers you to join him. He extends a hand of help to you, promising true strength and power in exchange for complete submission. The study of the Light and Dark sides of the Force in isolation from each other is a dead end that leads to degradation, stagnation, and extinction. The Emperor understands this. Therefore, our teaching is a return to the origins. Acquiring a power that is inaccessible to any Jedi or Sith. The Balance of all sides of the Force as a source of power and understanding not of the galaxy, but of the Universe."
"Je'daii?" Kursk was surprised. Atroxa nodded affirmatively, and the Sith himself felt a wave of bewilderment and... anticipation pass among his followers.
The knowledge accumulated over a thousand years was a huge mass of data, predominantly about the Dark Side of the Force. But besides that, there were evidences of the power of the Light as well. The Black Guard had methodically collected crumbs of information from the past. It was no wonder that many years ago they had come across mentions of the Je'daii Order. The progenitor of the systematic understanding of the Force and the surrounding world. The chronicles painstakingly recreated by the Furious indicated that the ancestors of modern Jedi and Sith did indeed possess great strength and Force. And over the millennia, this power was lost. And, much as one might wish, it was impossible to restore. An impossible task for a cult in which there were no more than a hundred Force-sensitives—powerful in the Dark Side, but still too few to conduct such research while simultaneously hiding their existence from the galaxy. Once they had already tried to do this—a small expedition to Ossus in search of ancient knowledge resulted in the disclosure of the secret of their existence. And the Jedi hounds—the Shadows—came for them, nearly calling into question the very existence of the cult. Only by a miracle was it possible to divert their gaze from the true base of the Black Guard—Mustafar—by sacrificing all those who were outside the planet. Fortunately, the orthodoxy of the Jedi—to kill a Sith before asking him questions—played a cruel joke on them. They killed all the Furious and acolytes, losing the opportunity to trace the origins of the organization. A cruel loss of many for the sake of preserving the remnants. A necessary sacrifice for the sake of survival.
Upon coming to power, San'sii was forced to shut down all work to find ancient Jedi texts for the sake of the further existence of the Black Guard. The cult would not survive another "coming out of the shadows" and a clash with irreconcilable enemies. And therefore, for many years, no member of the Black Guard had left Mustafar. The Jedi themselves were not particularly interested in the ruins of their ancient temple—if they even remembered it was there.
But at the same time, the cult did possess some knowledge of the Jedi. The mentors had successfully woven it into the training process. Now, it could be said with confidence that the current generation of the Black Guard surpassed those who founded the cult. Kursk realized too late that this only spurred the youth's thirst for the new. Knowledge of the Light Side corrupted the guards, awakening ancient Sith instincts in them—a thirst for knowledge that granted even greater power. What irony. For millennia, the Jedi sought Sith knowledge to become stronger. And the Black Guard broke the pattern in the opposite direction.
And now, when a trend toward the appearance of youth—continuers of the cult's ideas—had been noted in the ranks of the Guard for the first time in many years, this Lady Sith appears with one of the most coveted offers. Effectively—extending a hand on which lies what every acolyte from novice to Furious wants.
Too good to be true. The moment was chosen too conveniently.
San'sii did not even need to turn to the Dark Side to feel that Euvgum, as well as Ikeru, were literally salivating, waiting for his consent to join this unknown Emperor. Pathetic sucklings! The thirst for power and knowledge had clouded their minds. A mistake from which thousands of Sith of the past had perished.
And he had to be careful to refuse this obvious trap, the goal of which was undoubtedly the destruction of the Black Guard. It did not matter how it happened—whether they were all slaughtered or assimilated. The cult would come to an end. As would his own power.
"No," the cult leader said resolutely, rising from his chair. "I reject your Emperor's offer."
"I wonder why?" Atroxa asked lazily. "You are offered power in exchange for such a trifle—to serve a being whose strength is even beyond your understanding..."
"You lie," the clear disappointment oozing from his subordinates did not escape him. "There is no such thing as an Immortal Emperor. The Eternal Empire of Zakuul fell thousands of years ago... The one you call your master is just another power-hungry intriguer who has learned a couple of tricks. Were he here, I would spit in his face, making him my slave..."
"Too cowardly to say it in person?" It did not escape the cult leader's gaze that the Twi'lek seemed to stop being herself. She stood unnaturally straight, her head held high. And her eyes...
Even in the half-light of the hall, it was clear that instead of them, there were only two black, shoreless pools. And the voice... undoubtedly, the Twi'lek was but an empty vessel, inside of which was the essence of a more powerful sentient. Had it been so from the beginning, or had it only just happened?
"You are a pathetic insect before me, San'sii Kursk," Lady Atroxa continued to speak in a sepulchral tone. Although the cult leader himself had already begun to doubt that it was indeed her before him. He was too smart and experienced not to recognize the change in her aura. The Force surrounding her changed its shades, turning from a calm vessel of composure into a boiling alien pool, overshadowing everything in the room. "You reject what I offer you. You doom your people to extinction."
"Who are you to dare throw such an accusation at me?"
"I am the one who saw the end of this cult. Saw the death of each of you at the hands of ordinary sentients who will want to examine the ruins you inhabit in a few years," a low bass, like sweet molasses, poured into the ears of those present. "Under your leadership, Kursk, the Black Guard will fall, as all Sith before you have fallen. A talentlessly wasted potential. And you, a pathetic parasite, dare to reject my offer? For the sake of your own ridiculous ambitions? Sending my emissary to you, I hoped to find loyal followers here who are ready to cast aside ridiculous restrictions and dogmas, to achieve true greatness. To serve the only true goal. But I found only a bunch of weaklings, boasting of their degradation."
"What goal must we serve?" San'sii opened his mouth to enter into polemics, but Ikeru forestalled him for the third time.
"Service to me," the Emperor rumbled. "Taking the galaxy into your hands. Understanding all the secrets of the Force. Becoming those who will put an end to the feuds between odious teachings. Being my strength that will reconcile enemies and destroy dangers even before they manifest themselves. And only after that will peace reign over the galaxy. An eternal peace, under the shadow of the Eternal Empire."
"The Jedi will never allow it," Euvgum stated authoritatively. "We already have the bitter experience of clashing with them..."
"Like any weaklings, you hid with your tails between your legs, seeking answers in the mastery of the Dark Side. One-sided, hypocritical, selfish," a short wave of the hands, and the shock handcuffs fell onto the marble floor with a dull sound. "Blind men, wandering in the shadow of their own ignorance. Submit to me..."
"Never!" Kursk, tired of the insulting speeches, tore his lightsaber from his belt, rushing at the Emperor's herald from the start. A corruption that should be eradicated.
His crimson blade flew up, ready to take the head off the unarmed Letan's shoulders, but at the very last moment, it encountered a red bar that suddenly appeared before his weapon.
"For too long we believed in the truth of your words," looking to the side, he saw with bewilderment that it was Euvgum who had blocked his strike.
"Traitor!" he exclaimed, finally realizing what game the Emperor was playing.
His Force filled the archive room, clouding Kursk's foresight. This cheap whore's master had played on the base desires of his followers. The blind men had swallowed the bait. Greed had clouded their minds. Worthless!
Only years of experience allowed him, in the surrounding hurricane of alien Force, to return to concentration on this battle.
Euvgum rushed at him, putting his vast physical strength into the strikes. Kursk was forced to retreat. The position of cult leader allowed him to be far more educated than his opponents. That was why, unlike the other Furious, he was trained in more than one style of fencing. And now, it came in handy. For he easily parried Euvgum's Shien with his Soresu.
"Ikeru!" he exclaimed. "Don't stand there like a post! Help suppress this heresy!"
Strikes fell like hail. San'sii switched to an impenetrable defense, delaying the onset of the inevitable. Although he was more powerful than all his followers, years of studying Dark Side rituals had undermined his body. Effectively, he could no longer finish off his opponent with the same ease as in his youth. That was why he resorted to calling his apprentice.
Ikeru would manage. For there were no ambitions in him. Only diligent obedience.
Euvgum tried to sweep his legs. But in response, Kursk jumped, performing a backflip. Spinning, he flew over his opponent, noting with a smirk that the man was trying to pin his teacher's back against the massive table on which the ancient manuscripts were laid out.
Landing on his feet, he placed his weapon in time to block a strong, sweeping blow from above. He pushed off the Euvgum looming over him and jumped again, turning at a distance from him so as not to give the Furious an advantage and the opportunity to strike in the back. A more than timely feint—at the end of his leap, he caught a Force Lightning with his blade, with which the former follower had decided to disarm him. It was naive to think that simple saber energy could resist the Force.
Throwing the apprentice back with a cunning combination that left a small superficial cut on his chest, Kursk switched to the Euvgum who appeared nearby. The tall opponent attacked as before, like an unwavering machine, pushing the leader into a corner of the room. And Ikeru jumped up, ready to join the rebel.
Together, they set upon their former master, who fought back more fiercely with every moment. Hatred for traitors only spurred his desire to deal with them, confirming his right to show sentients their further path. But with every second he sank further into the Dark Side: every strike and counter-strike was accompanied by his roar, more suited to an enraged animal.
"This cannot last forever," he smirked at San'sii, successfully slashing Euvgum's bicep. "You are nothing against me."
The fighter struck by the blade, hissing, retreated briefly. Kursk easily parried Ikeru's lunges, internally triumphing that the boy was weakened by the long confrontation. But he would not be able to match the skill of his mentor. A smooth movement of the cult leader's blade, and the apprentice's weapon was cut to pieces and no longer suitable for continuing the battle. Throwing them both away from him with a Force Wave, Kursk looked around with a triumphant grin, searching for Darth Atroxa. The Twi'lek watched with an unperturbed look as the leader of the Black Guard scattered his followers like bantha calves.
"Your attempts to win over my servants are fruitless," he shouted, gathering the Force for the upcoming murder. "I am stronger than them all! The rebellion began and will die here! And then, I will find you and finish you!"
"You are so tense," the Letan smirked with an alien voice. "By surrounding yourself with weak followers, you have only laid the foundation for your fall. I will teach them to be strong—as they deserve."
In the same second, numerous chairs, caught by telekinesis, the Emperor's vessel directed toward him. As if these ridiculous projectiles could cause him any harm.
Hacking through the furniture, San'sii approached his last opponent with every step, growling with rage. The Force around him boiled with fury, narrowing his perception more and more. It didn't matter. He needed to take a few more steps and finish off the filthy bitch...
Ending this circus, Atroxa threw the table at him. The massive object swayed, dropping the manuscripts and ancient texts lying on it to the floor. Kursk, seeing this as a gesture of despair, easily intercepted the table with the Force, making it hang in the air for a moment. Then, slightly redirecting the trajectory, he threw the table in the direction of the Letan, but no longer in an arc, as she had just done, but exactly straight in front of him, like a kinetic projectile.
Breaking into pieces, the product made of rare wood smashed into the opposite side. However, under the wreckage, he did not see a lifeless body.
Instead, he saw the Twi'lek standing next to his defeated apprentice. She was helping him up, placing her own weapon in his hand.
"You cannot win," she said, addressing the leader of the Black Guard. "You waste power too quickly. Unwise and foolish."
"The Dark Side is inexhaustible," Kursk boastfully noted. Fine, let it be so; now he would kill them both.
"And it is also a source of cunning," the Twi'lek simply noted. And the gaze of her black eyes was directed somewhere behind his back...
Too late he realized what this whole performance with floating interior items and distraction was for...
He turned on his heels with lightning speed, preparing to meet the opponent he had unforgivably written off.
Their eyes met. But the blades—did not.
"You are a cancerous tumor of the Black Guard," Euvgum hissed in his face, driving his weapon into the former master's stomach. "And your mindless rule has come to an end."
A searing crimson flash cut through Kursk's spine, coming out of his back. He felt it, as well as the fact that the blade's energy was burning out parts of his internal organs and nerves. San'sii tried with his last strength to throw the opponent away from him, but his body failed him. The opponent's saber deactivated, allowing his body to fall to the floor.
"Excellent," he heard the Emperor's voice. "We will count this as a gesture of your loyalty, acolytes."
Consciousness was slipping away from him, no matter how hard he tried to cling to reality with the help of the Force. His clouded gaze caught the shoes that stopped next to his face.
"Announce the joining of the Black Guard to the Eternal Empire of Zakuul," a new instruction from the Twi'lek reached him. "Kill those who do not agree."
"But if they try to escape beyond the temple?" Ikeru inquired.
"Everything has long since been cordoned off by my soldiers," the Emperor chuckled. "Execute."
As soon as both traitors disappeared from the room, San'sii's consciousness was touched by life-giving energy. Unceremoniously, his consciousness was torn from the embrace of oblivion, and clarity of vision returned. And the pain...
"You are frankly not bad, Kursk," the Twi'lek's sharp fingernails dug into his face, turning it so that the bottomless black eyes looked into his own. And through these fingers, an alien Force flowed into him, keeping him from death. He already felt better. Although he did not feel his lower limbs. "In other circumstances, you could have lived and become one of my close associates."
"P-p-please," he pronounced the word he had forgotten with difficulty, "save my life. I... will serve you."
"Of course you will, little fool," the Twi'lek's smile pierced him with cold. "It's not in my rules to throw away resources."
"T-thank you," Kursk, closing his eyes, licked his parched lips. "Your enemies will die by my hand..."
"And yet, you are an idiot," the Letan shook her head. "I have enough servants. But as for..."
The defeated Sith felt himself beginning to drift into sleep. His body, as if woodened, filled with icy cold. Very... familiar sensations. He seemed to have read about such a technique... What was it called in the annals of the Legions of Lettow... Morichro?
"Go to sleep, short-sighted one," he heard the already pleasant girl's voice of Darth Atroxa. "Awakening will bring you many surprises..."
***
Watching this circus was a pleasure.
"I am tired of hearing about Manaan's neutrality! It sounds like an excuse for cowards not to fight, if you want my opinion!"
The officer's voice echoed in the room where the Republican mission had made its last attempt to tip the scales in its favor. A desperate but predictably failed attempt.
"Captain Endel Sait," the Presiding Judge said in the same hissing, whistling voice. "If this phrase is your only argument, it is clearly unsuccessful. The High Court of Manaan has spoken."
"What kind of court are you!?" the Republican said with indignation. "A bunch of pathetic foreigners, hastily gathered from different ends of the planet to make a fateful decision for your god-forsaken world for the first time in thousands of years!"
"As I see it," a blue-skinned Twi'lek with black tattoos smiled, "when the surface is burning under the Republic's feet, its representatives resort to insults? This act by the captain," she rose from her Arbitrator's seat, addressing the dozen Selkath sitting on the other side of the room, "is clear proof that the Republic does not respect those with whom it intends to work. Even as a representative, they sent a simple officer, although they first promised that a Jedi Master would arrive. The Republic deceives even in the small things..."
"Sha'ala Donita," the Presiding Judge interrupted the CIS representative's speech. "We are developed enough to understand the Republican Arbitrator's words. And we have made a decision."
"Is that so? Why so fast?" she wondered.
"Captain Sait," another of the judges spoke up. "We have heard the Republic's proposal. And we do not agree either to join it or to make centralized supplies of kolto for the Grand Army of the Republic. Henceforth, if you, your army, or your government are interested in kolto, you will purchase it in the usual way—on the free market. For double the price."
"What!?" The man was taken aback, while a loud laugh from the Twi'lek—Count Dooku's personal assistant—rang out in the room.
"This is the price for insulting the members of the High Council of Manaan and every Selkath living on the planet," the same judge explained. "The disrespect you showed for Manaan's neutrality by arriving for negotiations on a Republican Venator-class Star Destroyer is another reason why the court made such a decision. Diplomacy is clearly not your forte. You should not have started this dispute without the help of the Jedi. Perhaps then, the Republic would have managed to save at least its face, not to mention the prices of kolto."
"And wait another month until those bastards send another of their magicians to replace the one who vanished without a trace!?" the Republican officer flared up. Then, casting a glance at the smirking Twi'lek, he pointed an accusing finger at her. "The Confederacy is to blame for the master's disappearance..."
"Enough," the Presiding Judge grunted loudly. "In the time that has passed since the Jedi's disappearance, you have not been able to provide any substantial evidence of CIS involvement. While the Ahto City police provided you with surveillance footage indicating that the Jedi entered hangar number 47 and vanished without a trace along with a private ship docked there. The Selkath have every reason to consider the Jedi a thief of that ship and to oppose the further stay of Jedi on Manaan. On this, the court considers the Republican part of the issue concluded."
"Representative Donita," another Selkath joined in. "Are you ready to hear the court's decision?"
"Naturally," the Twi'lek, with a self-satisfied smile, rose from her seat, casting victorious glances at the crushed and humiliated Republican.
"The High Court of Manaan, having considered the appeal of the diplomatic mission of the Confederacy of Independent Systems regarding entry into its composition, centralized supplies of kolto to its worlds, the appointment of its representative to its Senate, and the placement of a military garrison of droids on Manaan, has decided," the Presiding Judge, reading the text from the datapad screen, caught his breath. A grimace of anticipation froze on the faces of both Arbitrators, "to refuse the Confederacy of Independent Systems on all points of the appeal."
"What!?" the Twi'lek flared up. "Are you out of your minds, you reptilian faces!?"
Now it was the Republican's turn to laugh at the top of his lungs.
"We extended a hand of friendship to you when you were floundering in your ocean, barely making ends meet," the words were literally spat out by Dooku's assistant. "And you, you freaks, dare to insult us with your refusal?"
"Moreover, Representative Donita," the Presiding Judge continued unperturbed. "Like the Republic, the Confederacy may purchase kolto on the free market. For double the price."
"What!?" the Twi'lek said, stunned. "Why?"
"The Republic and the Confederacy are no different in the eyes of the High Court of Manaan," the Presiding Judge said. "Like Captain Sait, you arrived here on board a Providence-class Star Destroyer. You have insulted the Selkath people. Therefore, the High Court considers it appropriate to leave both sides in their former positions."
"Ha," the Twi'lek tossed her head proudly. "Your economy will collapse as soon as the CIS starts buying kolto from those on whom such sanctions are not imposed."
The Selkath, staring stupidly at both Arbitrators, said:
"You probably didn't understand. Captain Sait, Representative Donita. The price of kolto has been increased not only for the Republic and the Confederacy. From now on, kolto is supplied at double the price to the ENTIRE galaxy."
"What!?" The Twi'lek's eyes widened.
"You've completely lost your Hutt-minds!" the Republican shouted. "It will be at the same price as bacta now!"
"Thank you for noticing that, Captain Sait," the Presiding Judge said, cold as his skin. "Isolation has not benefited the people of Manaan. For too long we were convinced that kolto is several times worse than bacta, and we were forced to trade it practically for free. Thanks to you, this oversight has been rectified."
Looking at the faces of the Arbitrators full of incomprehension and anger, she could only smile. Holding back the laughter that was rolling over her.
"On this, the session of the High Court is concluded," the Presiding Judge said, rising from his seat.
One by one, the Selkath left the courtroom. Decommissioned for nearly three thousand years, it had been reopened for the first time.
The door—the only entrance to the small observation room from which she could behold the entire circus staged by the inhabitants of Manaan—opened, letting the Presiding Judge inside.
"Your will is done," he dropped to one knee, bowing his head in a sign of deepest respect. "The Republic and the CIS will leave Ahto City within twenty-four hours."
With these words, he handed her a deck, the contents of which—a credential about Manaan joining the Eternal Empire and the Selkath's loyal sentiments to the Immortal Emperor of Zakuul—would have been an unquestionable reason for the occupation of the planet by any of the currently warring superpowers. Fortunately, this document would never fall into the eyes of anyone outside the Empire's capital planet. Nor would the reports on all the projects started in this world by the Emperor's emissary.
"This performance," she pointed to the bickering Arbitrators of both sides leaving the courtroom, "amused me quite a bit."
"The people of Manaan have expressed their will," the Selkath looked at her with his small eyes. "Now both sides are deprived of kolto."
"Which, in turn, will allow us to receive more of it," she nodded to her thoughts.
"Of course," the judge confirmed the correctness of her thoughts. "No one will purchase kolto at a price equal to bacta."
"I hope for us the cost of batches of this wonderful drug will remain the same?"
"Do not dare to doubt it, Lady Zavros," a slight offense appeared in the Selkath's voice. "The Eternal Empire until the end of time will receive kolto in the volumes it needs completely free of charge. The Order of Shasa will never deceive the supporters of Balance. We, like you, are faithful to Revan's covenants."
"The Eternal Empire is in the debt of the Order of Shasa," the Togruta smiled. "I will arrange for the most experienced and qualified members of the Order of Imperial Knights to be sent to Manaan. As well as ships and a military contingent to protect the planet from a possible attack. I do not think the Republic and the CIS will miss the chance to capture the planet."
"You are kind as always, Lady Zavros," the Selkath bubbled. "We could not even hope that our modest teaching would ever receive a new turn."
"The Emperor favors his allies," she informed him. "The Order of Shasa has done a great deed by carrying out a coup d'état so quickly and without much bloodshed."
"We were divided," the Selkath reminded her. "But with the arrival of the emissaries of the Republic and the Confederacy, we reconvened the High Court. Thanks to you, the Order of Shasa has become the central government on Manaan. And we are in an unpayable debt to the Eternal Empire for those trillions of credits you intend to invest in our economy. For the first time in the existence of our race, we will be able to fully explore the oceanic floor. Already our people are working to restore the activities of long-abandoned kolto deposits, in particular—in the Hrakert Rift. The Empire's credits allowed us to purchase the most advanced equipment, and now kolto mining is conducted without any harm to the Progenitors. A repetition of that unpleasant incident that only Lord Revan could resolve will not happen. And now kolto mining will increase again, for our ancestors will not kill the workers who dared to disturb their peace with the work of antique mechanisms. I can assure you—the kolto you receive tomorrow is only half as effective as bacta. But the volumes of its supplies, at the peak of its production, will be dozens of times greater than the amount the Republic receives in the form of bacta. And the battle stations we are secretly purchasing through front persons will reliably protect the planet from any invasion."
"This is wonderful news, Presiding Judge," Ashara assured the Selkath. "Did your swimmers examine the coordinates I handed over?"
"Yes, mistress. That facility has long been abandoned and has fallen into disrepair due to lack of maintenance. However, it is quite easy to restore. Restore integrity, drain the compartments... and it will once again become one of the most luxurious man-made reefs for sentients to live in."
What had Dougan expected, sending her to check a stronghold that was almost four thousand years old? It was surprising that anything of the structures had been preserved at all.
"I am glad to hear it. The Emperor hopes that his residence on Manaan will be restored in its best form."
"Undoubtedly, Lady Zavros. The Emperor will be pleased. We will turn to the archives, and the residence will appear before his gaze in the form in which our architects once built it. I have been assured that no more than two weeks are necessary."
The Togruta only politely nodded in response to his words. She was already tired of lavishing praise on the fawning Selkath.
"Have you found common ground with others in the military sphere?"
"Not fully," that was a surprise. Would there be unpleasant news today as well?
"Any problems?"
"Isolationism... has strongly influenced a large part of the population. We are ready to protect Manaan to the last drop of blood, but to go to the stars to wage war there..." The Selkath faltered, encountering her merciless gaze. "One way or another, more than fifty warriors of the Order of Shasa and two hundred thousand young Selkath are ready to join the ranks of the Eternal Empire's army."
"I expected nothing else," in fact, it was even more than they could have imagined. The Emperor had not set tasks for such a large-scale recruitment. The Presiding Judge, as always, rose to the occasion. "We will immediately send instructors to Manaan to train Selkath military swimmers."
"We will receive them as befits high guests."
"And the last thing. The factory."
"Give us a month and a half, and we will complete the construction of the research building and conveyor workshops," and again this captivatingly confident tone. "Do not doubt, the combat machines we will create for waging battles on ocean worlds and the surface will be the most advanced in the galaxy."
"And once again your answer pleases me, Presiding Judge." Ashara smiled. "I will inform the Emperor that his new subjects are a model to follow."
"We live to serve the Empire," this time the Selkath bowed so low that the Togruta thought his spine had snapped.
Holding the deck in her hands, the Togruta headed for the exit. Already standing in the doorway, she remembered an important detail.
"What was the fate of that Jedi who stumbled upon my ship in dock 47?"
The judge, looking at her from under his brow, smiled predatorily.
"The Progenitor was pleased with such a snack."
***
This day, like many others, began monotonously in the Senate. A meeting scheduled for the early morning was dedicated to discussing military expenditures.
Padmé, like many of her opposition comrades, prepared for a systematic and long-drawn-out chewing over of the same questions, when suddenly, in violation of the regulations, Senator Orn Free Taa's pod moved forward from its place.
Only instead of the familiar figure of the obese Twi'lek, a graceful green-skinned Twi'lek was located there. Padmé, exchanging bewildered looks with Bail, only shrugged at the latter's questioning gaze. Although Taa was in her social circle, he did not share his plans. And he certainly didn't introduce her to his assistants. In recent years, he had changed more of them than any of the other senators. Like toys a small child had finished playing with.
"The floor is given to Senator Supi of Ryloth," Mas Amedda announced.
Now that was interesting. Padmé looked for Mon, Riyo, and several other senators. But they all had the same expression—bewilderment.
"Thank you," the Twi'lek's voice was well-trained. I wonder how one can combine such a majestic pose, the manners of a streetwalker, and oratorical skills? "Senators, Chancellor," Amidala felt surprise appear on her face. And judging by the whisper around her—other senators also noticed that Supi had brazenly ignored the generally accepted manner of addressing colleagues. "Honorable..." had been lost somewhere in her upbringing. "I must inform you that according to the decision of the government of Ryloth, former Senator Taa has been removed from office. I will take his place in the Senate."
The whisper began to grow stronger.
What nonsense? Taa had held this position for more than ten years. Even if they weren't supporters, he was still a colleague. And where had it been heard of for a senator to be changed? Usually, it was almost a lifelong position. Few could handle it.
Padmé turned her gaze to the Chancellor. He looked characteristically unperturbed, but from the glances Amedda exchanged with Sly Moore—another of Palpatine's assistants—Amidala realized that for them it was as much news as for the rest of the Senate.
"Friends," the Chancellor, like an arbiter at a boxing match, raised his hands, calling for silence. "The will of the people of Ryloth must be observed. I understand," he turned his gaze to the new senator, "your government has resorted to the 807th amendment to the Constitution?"
Having received an affirmative answer, the Nabooian only gave a barely noticeable nod.
Padmé, not trusting her memory, turned to the Senate database, searching for the necessary document. And, judging by the slowness of the request processing, she was not the only one unaware of such things. Finally, after five minutes, the system gave an answer. Hm, indeed, the government has the right to independently change a senator, without coordinating the new candidacy. But this amendment is more than ten thousand years old! Judging by the last date of access to the archive, it was used around that time, then successfully forgotten.
"Well," Palpatine said. "Since the respected senators have been convinced of the legality of the actions of the Ryloth authorities, I propose moving on to the consideration of the main issue..."
Amidala prepared to put forward her platform, preferring to go on a political attack immediately. This was the name of a technique when a delegate proceeded to active actions without waiting for their opponents to prepare. Often, such unfair tricks could bring huge dividends.
However, this time she was also preempted.
"What the Hutt is happening?" Organa crept into her pod almost inaudibly.
"I know no more than you do," Padmé lamented, watching Senator Domas Bellus's platform fly into the central part of the hall.
"Honorable sentients," what was with the etiquette today!? Had they been sniffing spice or something?! Or were they intentionally annoying the senators to disrupt the meeting!? "You all know me—we have worked together for more than a year. However, today, I must inform you that this is the last day the Illodia sector is a member of the Republic."
"What!?" Organa was stunned. Simultaneously, the Senate exploded with cries of insults and accusations of betrayal.
Illodia—the capital of the sector of the same name—was located in the Core Worlds. Thanks to its favorable position, the agricultural products for which the planet was famous, and most others in the sector, fed a tenth of the Mid Rim, the Colonies, and the Core Worlds themselves. When Ukio was captured by the CIS, Illodia's shares jumped, as only it could provide for those in need on the Outer Rim—even if to its own detriment, since the Senate unanimously voted for the forced seizure of stocks from Illodia's warehouses, effectively not even having paid the supplier. While the products had already reached the consumer.
The loss of this sector for the Republic was like a call to tighten belts. And for the CIS...
"I ask you to calm down," Palpatine rose again. "What dictated your decision, Senator?"
"This is the opinion of my government; I am only a messenger," the man modestly noted.
"Liar! Separatist freak! To prison with him!" cries from other senators reached them.
The situation was, in general, understandable. Unlike most other sectors, the government on Illodia was a mere fiction. Real power was held only by the senator, to whose tune the whole sector "danced." So the accusations against Domas were well-founded.
"I dare to assure you," the former senator continued, "that despite your insults, Illodia will not join the Confederacy," and this already produced the effect of an exploding bomb. "Our sector now has its own fate."
"Does this mean that food supplies from Illodia will stop?" Palpatine asked dryly.
"No," the senator shook his head. "We will fulfill the current contracts in accordance with our obligations."
"And the new ones!?" a cry came from the Gran delegation. A timely question, considering the Republic's practice of making purchases of food and other property for the army in huge batches every month. More precisely—once a month. A fairly simple scheme for money laundering on state orders. But there was no one to fight the new criminal schemes emerging from nonexistence. The Jedi and the Judicial Department were bogged down in the war. Intelligence did not possess such powers—at least until the next amendment.
"When the time comes to discuss them—Illodia is open to dialogue," the senator said coldly, returning the platform to its place under deafening cries and catcalls. In total silence, he left his pod.
"What was that just now!?" the Alderaanian gasped. "What has come over him?"
Padmé decided to test her guess by turning to military reports. Hm... strange, but CIS ships had not appeared in that sector since the beginning of the war. Then, what was the reason!? Could it be that the GAR preferred to reduce orders on Illodia in favor of Ukio?
"I... don't even know what to say," Padmé said. "Look!"
She nodded toward a new platform that had appeared in the vacant spot.
"Who is that?" Bail frowned. Padmé only shook her head. She was seeing this short man for the first time.
"Honorable senators," oh, at least someone brought etiquette today! "Perhaps you do not know me personally. I am the representative of the Mordell sector..."
"What sector?" the Nabooian wondered.
"First time I've heard of it," Bail replied in unison.
And the cries of the senators "Who are you?", "Get out of your hole," and similar ones only confirmed Padmé's opinion that the named sector was so insignificant that no one could even remember it.
"Do you have anything to address the Senate with, respected sir?" Apparently, even Palpatine, for all his outward infallibility, could not remember this man's name.
"Exactly so, Chancellor," the man agreed. "Our sector is poor and frankly far away..."
The senator's voice was drowned out by loud cries. Some senators drove their colleague away; others frankly insulted him. A typical day in the Senate.
"One way or another, we are leaving the Republic, preferring to continue to deal with our problems ourselves rather than endure the indifference of the central government," the short senator switched to a shout, trying to overpower the din, which even Mas Amedda was unable to stop.
"Well, go then! Beggar and pauper! You'll crawl back!" his departure was accompanied by by no means cultured statements.
"The second sector in less than an hour," Padmé shook her head.
"And," Bail pointed at another platform, "it seems not the last."
"That's the representative of the Trilon sector!" Padmé gasped.
For the third time today, the Senate witnessed the departure of a remote and, to be honest, little-needed sector from the Galaxy's composition. Most senators were frankly having fun, insulting those who preferred to separate at such a bad time.
Everyone was catcalled and humiliated. Representatives of the Farlax and Wimmel sectors announced their departure under frank insults. And they became the last among the five senators who went into the unknown.
Finally, the speaker announced a break. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the Nabooian and the Alderaanian secluded themselves in the Naboo diplomatic mission, burying themselves in datapads. The situation should be analyzed immediately.
"All this is strange," Bail stated half an hour later, looking up from the computer. "Not one of these sectors represents any interest. Without the support of an influential patron, they will simply perish..."
"It's not so simple," Padmé shook her head. While the other senators were letting out loud speeches, throwing mud at those who had separated from the Republic, she spent time making requests. "There is some system here."
"And what is it?"
"All five senators were on friendly terms with Bama Brimu," she pointed to the information she had summarized about official meetings of the senators. Over the last few months, the senator from Humbarine had seen each of these officials more than a dozen times.
"A coincidence?" From Organa's tone, it was clear that he himself did not believe his own words.
"I don't think so. Look," she pointed to new data. "Wimmel was subjected to a biological attack six months ago. Its entire population—humans—died out. Except for a few thousand who were scattered across the galaxy. Now, when the CIS, having left behind only ruins, has left this territory, they are returning. Look at this data."
"Purchases of military-grade orbital stations," Organa said thoughtfully. "But why military equipment for those who barely survived extinction? For all these, even if slightly outdated stations, thousands of personnel are needed."
"Moreover, Rendili, through the mediation of Elder Isal, sold them several hundred Dreadnaughts," Amidala turned the virtual page. "This all smells very bad, Bail. Especially considering that Wimmel is in the very heart of the Core Worlds, the Republic's territory..."
"Is someone creating a well-protected bridgehead in the heart of the Republic?" It seemed Bail himself did not want to believe his own words. "Padmé, you're exaggerating..."
"You think so?" Amidala squinted. "Then look where the Farlax sector is located."
"Hm... effectively on the outskirts of the Republic."
"Not on the outskirts, Bail! In the Republic's rear!"
"That still doesn't mean anything. Look, the only way that leads there is the Perlemian Trade Route, or rather its branch, the Metellos Run. It's a well-known dead end."
"But look at these notes," she pointed to the results of xenoarchaeological expeditions. "This is information on the Mordell sector."
"Well... I have nothing against furry races..."
"Bail! Be serious! The Mordell sector is full of gas giants and asteroid fields that could become a resource base for an enemy fleet! The Trilon sector too. The Commerce Guild was going to get permission to mine there, but the war started. And this is in a region where the Republic simply won't be able to reach operationally! A fleet or a droid army can be created there in complete secrecy! And we simply won't know about it until armadas of the CIS pour out of there!"
"You're exaggerating..."
"Open your eyes! The Illodia sector is food. Mordell is resources. I'm ready to bet that every one of those stellar giants in the systems there is suitable for creating fuel or mining tibanna! Wimmel is a bridgehead in the heart of the Republic. This is a purposeful seizure of strategically important territories! And I am sure they are intended precisely against the Republic. Remember, I told you that Bama claimed a certain force had appeared that would help her sector. And others too! I am sure they are leaving the Republic not at all to be in poverty. Surely this is another of Dooku's insidious plans!"
"Everything is too... blurred," Organa admitted. "Three sectors in the Core Worlds, three on the Outer Rim. Moreover, two sectors were devastated by the CIS... Very doubtful. I think some senators were just finally fed up with our orders and bureaucracy. I don't believe that having survived the horrors of the CIS attack, someone would want to join them. The matter here is different."
Padmé thought, biting her lower lip, while Organa looked through another portion of information. She was clearly missing something, having caught onto the surface...
"What if the threat is not in the galaxy?"
"What?" Organa was stunned. "What are you talking about?"
"Mordell, Illodia, and Trilon are located on the border of the Outer Territories. If you look at the map," Padmé, led by her guess, unfolded a holographic projection, "if we only assume that there are hyperspace routes hidden from us passing through the Unknown Regions, connecting Illodia with the Farlax sector, and from there through the Perlemian Trade Route—to the Corellian and Hydian..."
She didn't have to finish. The Alderaanian looked clearly depressed. The picture emerging was immensely gloomy.
"Now your words make sense... One swift blow with large forces," he whispered. "The entire Core will be cut off. All our shipyards and industrial centers. Hutt, Padmé, you're always seeing the root, even if not on the first try! And I was looking at the inhabitants of one moon in this sector."
"You should have looked at the race inhabiting Farlax!" Padmé said irritably.
"And what's wrong here? The center of the Galaxy!"
"Bail! They killed members of three expeditions! Look what the only survivor writes: '... they are talented, hardworking, friendly. But all this is a deception, designed to lull the vigilance of those who are stronger than them. As soon as they understood how our technology and weapons work—they fell upon us in a deadly avalanche...'"
"That was five hundred years ago! Padmé, you're overworked. Well, what danger to the galaxy can some Yevetha represent?"
***
"Human," the shrill tone of Blood Claw cut the air. But making him shut up was unwise. Especially when our five were surrounded by hundreds of his warriors, "we have arrived at the Prison."
A three-fingered paw pointed to a massive, squat structure, partly hidden under snowdrifts. The dark gray material from which it was built tens of thousands of years ago seemed impervious to time. At least, in the structure of the massive rectangular arched opening beyond which the subterranean Rakata complex began, I did not notice a single crack. Or a pit. And this despite the fact that four thousand years ago one of the bloodiest battles in the galaxy raged here. During the confrontation between the Sith Empire and the Republic, Belsavis became one of the battlefields. And largely because of this very prison. Built by the Rakata to keep inside those who now controlled its surface.
Esh-kha. An extremely dangerous, treacherous, aggressive people who drowned a good part of the galaxy in blood before the Rakata could stop them. The genocide carried out by the natives of Lehon stopped the bloody slaughter. Billions avoided the fate of dying at the hands of the most bloodthirsty criminals of the Celestial River.
"I see, Blood Claw," I sighed. "You have kept your word."
"The human must keep his!" the grin of the Esh-kha leader resembled the maw of an animal created for uncompromising killing more than for expressing emotions.
"Do you doubt the words of the Emperor?" Kira unambiguously tossed her lightsaber in her hand. The very one that had destroyed hundreds of Esh-kha immediately after our landing on the planet.
The flight to this snow-covered world passed without any incidents. The Defender once again delivered its owner to Belsavis. And, as before—to solve a global problem.
Unfortunately, the coordinates of the Rakata prison block were not in the old navigation computer's database. Only marks of a Republican outpost long erased by time, where the corvette landed. We faced searches in conditions of eternal frost—almost the entire surface of the planet was covered with snow and ice. And only small oases of thawed space.
However, from the very moment our group was on the ground, plans changed cardinally. First of all—precisely because of the local aborigines, who supposedly shouldn't have been there.
The Esh-kha attacked us in a swift wave that was supposed not just to sweep us away and trample us but to tear us to pieces. If we were ordinary sentients.
What chances does even a numerous but completely outdated cold-weapon armed opponent have against three Force-sensitives? Who do not hesitate to stage a massacre.
Right—none. Nor did the Esh-kha have them. The Force tore the bodies of the aliens dressed in light armor into pieces, filling the entire surrounding space with bloody chunks. The first squad was followed by a second, then a third...
At the end of the hour-long battle, the Esh-kha leader deigned to appear. And he turned out to be too crude and stupid to accept the obvious. Blood Claw—his closest assistant—turned out to be much more quick-witted. And therefore, establishing a dialogue was not so difficult.
It turned out to be harder to agree. The Esh-kha demanded my ship for themselves. I promised to destroy them as a species. Having spent several hours in fruitless disputes, we still did not reach a consensus. We had to move on to reserve arguments.
After the Sunderer under the command of Draigan Allous carried out a precision orbital bombardment, evaporating several dozen Esh-kha settlements located on the ruins of outposts left by the Republic and the Empire. And only after that did Blood Claw show even greater quick-wittedness.
He admitted the obvious.
The fact that I could destroy the already pathetic remnants of his people—interceptors flying at low altitude convinced him of this finally. The proud and self-centered Esh-kha bowed their heads before me.
No one knew exactly how many of them were on the planet. Но it was unlikely that there were more than a million—primarily due to the limited resources suitable for feeding too many representatives of this race.
Therefore, we concluded an alliance. From now on and forever, the Esh-kha became my personal army. And they pledged to do what they were ordered. In exchange, the Eternal Empire guaranteed the supply of food and weapons, equipment, and explosives sufficient to win back living space on this eternally frozen world.
Well, this suited me. Clones are good, of course. Но even CIS droids won't stand against this force. Which, for now, will stay in reserve, protecting the planet from the encroachments of either side—the Republic or the Confederacy. Perhaps. And when the time comes—even among the organics of the Empire, "cannon fodder" is needed—they will vent their anger on those who deserve it.
"You aren't guarding the entrance?" I asked Blood Claw.
"That's right," grunting, the Esh-kha pointed to the passage leading into the depths of the Prison complex. "There's no need to do that when the Republic and the Empire have left this planet, escaping from the Esh-kha. Now we are the masters of Belsavis."
"You must be confusing something," I smirked. "This planet belongs to the Empire. You are only allowed to live here until I figure out what to do with you next."
"Killing," the Esh-kha leader implored. "It's in our blood. Killing is our nature!"
"Excellent," I allowed myself to smile. "Believe me, participation in battles won't go anywhere for you. But Rakata artifacts might go through hands. Which simply cannot be allowed."
"The Esh-kha keep their word," the sharp-toothed one assured me. "We serve the master as long as he keeps his."
"Be sure of that as never before," a smirk appeared on my face, along with a crooked grin. Indeed—to waste such excellent material on trifles... No, never heard of it.
And now, the new followers accompanied our small procession here. The main entrance had remained open all these thousands of years. And whom to fear here? Everyone who was dangerous was now standing behind me. And those who disagreed with this had long since fed the worms in the ground.
The Rakata construction amazed with its majesty. Even after thousands of years of idle time—it still kept the great deeds of a long-dead race. They really knew how to build for the ages!
And, while I am admired. And now, this complex must serve for the good of the Empire.
Stepping over the threshold, I felt an icy chill that fettered me from head to toe. The power of the Dark Side solemnly hurried to take possession of my body, or my companions. Yeah, like hell.
We easily drove away the obsessive bitch, hurriedly continuing our way to freeing my body from the remnants of genetic defects.
Very soon the Immortal Emperor will acquire a Power worthy of him by right.
And then, nothing will stop me for sure.