Chapter 77 - Chapter 18

A pair of X-Wings rounded the massive hull of the "Telos," synchronously dodging a stray crimson streak. For a moment, a flash of light blinded her. Ahsoka instinctively squinted, and when she opened her eyes, the astromech droid had already darkened the fighter's glass. It became much more comfortable.

"Thanks, R2," she thanked the little guy sitting in a special socket behind her cockpit.

In response, lines of a reply message flashed on the control panel. "It's my job," the Togruta read, smiling. Yes, the "bucket of bolts," as the Emperor called astromech droids, in its own manner. Although the girl couldn't hear the trill of its binary speech, she felt by the character of the phrase that the droid... was not very pleased.

The headstrong astromech, who had once accompanied her former mentor everywhere, had taken the place of its less fortunate comrade who, like Ahsoka's fighter, had suffered during Olee's rampage in the hangar. However, many things had suffered there. Of the three X-Wings that had flown into that battle, only two returned whole. And even then, Olee had managed to dent them significantly. And finish off two mechanics—her own and Ahsoka's. Dougan's "Little Brother," it seemed, was a guy with a hard fate, as upon seeing the rampaging girl, he managed to hide inside his master's fighter. The two other droids, having left their sockets, remained on the hangar floor. And partially on the wall. Senator Amidala, who least of all wanted to find herself in the company of General Grievous again, with unseen initiative offered Ahsoka the use of her astrodroid. Whether there was some hidden motive in this, no one knew. So, Rick made it look like the Senator's words were just a wonderful offer coming from a pure heart. And not an attempt by any means to latch onto the glory of the destroyers of Grievous.

So or otherwise, but now the Togruta and the Emperor's apprentice were joining the cosmic battle flaring up with new force as a pair. Ahsoka on her hurriedly repaired X-Wing in company with R2, Olee on her teacher's fighter with a thoroughly terrified Little Brother behind her.

Unfortunately, there were only three exclusive fighters on board the "Telos"—and one of them was no longer repairable. Thanks, Starstone.

Otherwise, they would be circling the battlefield in three now. Now Dougan had to remain on board the "Telos." And it was Ahsoka who had to lead the not entirely balanced friend into battle—although Olee had pulled herself together, Ahsoka didn't quite believe in her stability.

Instead of breaking radio silence, Ahsoka opened herself to the battle meld. Reluctantly, with obvious laziness, as if doing her a favor, Starstone followed her example.

Unforgettable sensations first experienced by them on Yavin. To know that a battle comrade is next to you is one thing. But to FEEL it... is quite different. Sometimes they heard each other's thoughts in the meld, but usually they just knew what the other was thinking... or what he was doing. But now Dougan wasn't with them, and the meld came out somehow... wrong. There wasn't that steady, stable channel of thought and feeling exchange. There was no stability...

Ahsoka suspected that the reason for this was her own immaturity in this technique. Had Olee been the initiator of the meld, perhaps it would have come out much simpler. But she for some reason didn't want to share her mind with the Togruta—this became clear by the fact that the girl didn't sense any other emotions from her friend besides those that related directly to the battle.

Well, let it be.

The Togruta cleared her mind of doubts with light meditation, fully concentrating on her upcoming participation in the battle.

A remarkably trivial task stood before the girls—only to disable the enemy's flagship. A Recusant-class light destroyer surrounded by a swarm of Vulture droids and a dozen Munificent-class frigates. No other squadron could have broken through such a screen. And this pair had some decent chances. No wonder the Grand Moff had sent them.

Ahsoka felt dissatisfaction and realized that Olee would rather use force so that the Separatists didn't build illusions regarding their prospects in this battle. As in the last time, she was yearning to throw herself into the thick of enemy fighters and arrange a local branch of hell for them. Ahsoka herself was of a different opinion.

There were thousands of Vultures here—you couldn't kill them all, even if you were the best pilot in the galaxy. It would be much more effective to disable the command ship and turn the tide of the battle, as was done in orbit of this planet last time. Well, and besides, that's exactly how their order sounded. She wasn't going to violate it—Dougan's mood was karking awful. Should she decide to follow Olee's lead and feasibly ease the work for the clone pilots, it's unlikely the Emperor would just spank her on the butt.

The girls' war machines reached the space between the warring fleets.

The Republic had deployed all the Hammerhead-class cruisers as a vanguard, lined up in three parallel lines before a corridor in the minefields, which had been made with great difficulty by the fire-ships. Which, having already submissively endured everything the Separatists could organize for them in the previous battle, were now living out their last hours. To hinder the enemy's breakthrough to Hypori's orbit, the Grand Moff ordered that the fire-ships that had served their purpose be directed into the passage among the mines, so that the ships deprived of ammunition and crews would at least partially slow down the enemy's advance toward the main forces. This helped in part—instead of falling on Declan's battered ships in a continuous stream, the Separatists were forced to maneuver in a narrow space, carefully avoiding contact with both mines and numerous drifting debris of what only a few hours ago were fire-ships. And at the exit, the thin stream of enemy starships was met by the concentrated fire of all the fleet's ships. Except for the "Telos," which, being located in the rear of the main forces together with the ships of the landing order that had already finished landing the ground contingent, performed the role of rotational aircraft carriers along with them. It was extremely dangerous for fighters and bombers to return to their ships that were conducting fierce exchanges of fire—primarily for the cruisers and corvettes themselves. One should inadvertently remove the shield from the hangar to land their fighters, and any Vulture could cause irreparable damage to the starships.

The Marauder-class corvettes, conducting continuous patrolling of the space between the flagship and the vanguard at the limit of human strength and mechanisms, were conducting continuous shooting of the scurrying fighters of the enemy. However, the concussion missiles, which had manifested themselves very well in the matter of fighting starfighters and Separatist starships, had run out in the previous battle. Unfortunately, there was no transport ship with the necessary spare ammunition in the fleet's composition. And the longer the battle lasted, the more it became clear to each side that this battle could not be won by the Republic by ordinary means.

Even the fact that a group of Acclamators—the second wave of the landing—was located in the Separatists' rear didn't greatly influence the situation. Because there were many times more enemy starships. And they could afford a battle on two fronts—although this slowed down the realization of the general plan—the destruction of the "Blade" fleet.

An unexpected and lightning-fast strike was needed that could confuse the plans of the CIS naval commander and give time for the Republic forces for regrouping. Actually, the destruction of General Grievous—that was the very same option.

"Most likely, we won't kill him—he's too lucky in the matter of preserving his skin. But it's necessary to try. At least, if you can disable the flagship—that's already something. We need to win time."

The Emperor's words, like the Jedi Code, were etched in her subconscious. And now, fortunately, the Separatist butcher didn't seek to sit it out in the rear, two extremely lucky girls had the opportunity to postpone the inevitable.

Grievous had clearly decided on a quick strike, having formed a vanguard group of more than sixty Munificent-class ships. They were rolling onto the Republic's positions, exchanging blows, some of which were powerful enough to tear out pieces of plating from the starships. Having leaped across the formation of Hammerheads, Ahsoka automatically noted that the Republic ships, although they held the enemy's strike well, were clearly inferior to the numerically superior CIS fleet. Precisely because of their relatively modest sizes and number of guns. If "Jent" intended to continue its existence further, then either the number of cruisers in the fleets' composition should be increased, or... the ships themselves should be changed.

Ahsoka barely had time to formulate her plan for intercepting a pair of Vultures that had separated from the general mass of starfighters covering the nearest Separatist Recusant, as Olee burst forward, godlessly forcing her X-Wing's engines, having opened rapid fire from all guns.

A second later, the enemy's lead fighter flew into shreds, hit by four shots at once. The wingman momentarily slowed down, after which the same fate befell him. And at the same time, the Republic fighters deviated from the intended course.

"Olee," Tano winced. "There was no need..."

"Should I do nothing at all besides a volley at the flagship's bridge?" the girl asked with light offense. "They were just asking for the crosshairs..."

Yes, arguing with such logic was useless.

"Returning to course," metal appeared in the Togruta's voice. And there's already someone to deal with the Vultures—a squadron of Z-95 Headhunters flashed nearby, which enthusiastically began to gut the droids. Following them—another one... Yes... The droids had something to do now.

Throwing the X-Wing to the side, she avoided a stray burst, putting her volley into a CIS ship that had flashed before the fighter's nose. Then, tilting the ship, she sent it into a dive toward the hull of the enemy destroyer. And a few dozen meters before the metal, she pulled up the X-Wing's nose, directing the machine along the starship's hull. Starstone synchronously repeated her maneuver, and two nimble ships reached the Recusant's stern in seconds. A mischievous thought flashed...

Flicking the weapon switch, Tano switched to concussion missiles, putting a pair into one of the main engines. A trifle, but pleasant.

Feeling in the Force a mixture of surprise and anticipation from her friend, she noted that she, without being stingy, had unloaded half of all her missiles into the damaged mechanism, completing it all with point-blank fire that tore the nozzles into hundreds of fragments.

The enemy's forward line was overcome. An expansive space between the enemy orders opened up ahead.

Filled to the top with droid fighters hurrying to the front line for the support of their brothers. Obviously, returning from rotation. Well, then...

Opening fire from the cannons, Ahsoka, meanwhile, led the ship away from the enemy's line of fire, seeing a safe corridor in the Force. Olee, as if glued, followed her, supporting the Togruta with fire from all cannons. A moment, and they overcame the formation of enemy fighters. A steep dive with a half-roll through the left planes, sharp braking, adjusting the course a bit—and the Vultures that had followed them turned into tiny sparks of explosions, having fallen under the fire of the gifted ones shooting without a miss.

Several nearby squadrons reacted to the monstrous injustice, but Ahsoka, having communicated her thought to the wingman, turned on full speed and dashed to Grievous's flagship. Starstone, exuding poorly hidden dissatisfaction—such a sorehead, she wasn't allowed to frolic with new old toys—didn't fall behind her. Together, tracing crazy pirouettes in space, the girls repeated their feint with a flight along the ship's plating, after which, finding themselves behind the nozzles, they began to describe an arc to find themselves behind the destroyer's superstructures, but while keeping in the dead zone of the anti-aircraft batteries. Foolhardiness? Perhaps. But one must be total fools to go into an attack on the main ship of the enemy armada, having a dozen "fans" on the tail who...

"Missiles!" Olee shouted, lunging to the side. Ahsoka, also noticing the bluish trails from the homing projectiles, threw the machine onto the wing. The projectiles mirrored her maneuver.

Now that was unpleasant.

"They have homing heads," she hissed, leading her ship under the belly of the enemy ship.

"What a wonder," the girl responded indifferently. Out of the corner of her eye, Tano saw her fighter, which had ended up on the other side of the Recusant, breaking away from the persistent projectiles on afterburners. "Everything is according to the textbook..."

The girl, dangerously approaching the side of the starship, began to circle the fighter around the axis, forcing the missiles following her to repeat this deadly dangerous trick and...

At the very last moment, Olee turned the X-Wing's nose to the side, allowing the missiles at full speed to fit into the massive turrets of the turbolaser battery, scattering them into shreds.

"Strong," Ahsoka noted, slashing with cannons at a Vulture that ended up in the crosshairs. It withstood exactly two pairs of hits, after which it smoked, having lost control and the ability of straight flight. Having tumbled through its front part, it ended up behind the X-Wing, absorbing several projectiles that lightning-fast exchanged the CIS concern's products for myriads of shards.

"Need help?" Olee inquired in a lazy tone.

"M... perhaps," the Togruta repeated her friend's maneuver, but could only get rid of most of the missiles. Three projectiles continued to move behind her stern, meter by meter more dangerously approaching the X-Wing.

However, they didn't have time to harm Tano—with ruthlessly accurate fire, Starstone turned them, as well as a pair of starfighters that had come from nowhere, into scrap metal.

"Ready, Lolita."

"Returning to course," Ahsoka sighed.

Fleeing from the missiles, they had again deviated from the goal, but not so critically.

They just crawled under the Recusant adjacent to the flagship...

"Something is wrong here," Olee's voice was tense. "Just now there were only two Recusants in the CIS second line..."

"And now there's a dozen," the Togruta also reacted to the change in the situation. No, all the same, during the run with the missiles, they had clearly gotten carried away. More than needed.

Because the Recusant they damaged was now smoking with engines somewhere behind, and General Grievous's flagship, plastered from all sides with ships of the same class with it and a swarm of Vultures, was moving at huge speed to its forward group, having significantly broken away from the main forces...

What is he up to?

R2 changed the scale of the tactical display, and immediately "friendly" dots flashed on the screen—dozens of Republic ships. They were exiting hyperspace at the outer boundary of the minefield, immediately connecting to the battle. Hammerheads, Marauders, Venators, Acclamators...

"So that's what we had to win time for," Ahsoka huffed, sensing a wave of understanding from her friend. It seemed it had reached the brunette too.

It seemed that the trap intended for the Grand Moff (otherwise such an operational arrival of the CIS fleet, and with such a composition, is difficult to explain), in fact turned out to be a trap for General Grievous. He ended up between two fires—on one side, albeit battered by life, but still a combat-capable group that had taken defense at the "bottleneck"—the narrowest place in the free space through the minefields. On the other—with every minute an increasing number of fresh ships from the reinforcements, with full magazines of ammunition and air wings. Which unequivocally would no longer let the General out of here.

The Togruta for a moment reached out with the Force toward the reinforcement. As soon as she caught the characteristic emanations, a sly smile appeared on her lips. Jedi had arrived with the reinforcement. Many Jedi.

A pity that not one of the bright lights in the Force, identifying the gifted, moved swiftly—then one could have hoped also that Galen Mulne and his Jedi aces were acting with those who arrived. But, it seemed, this unit had better things than hunting the most bloodthirsty and talented commander of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

"Oh, Grievous must be raging now," Olee giggled over the comms. Ahsoka felt her triumphant mood. And shared it herself.

"So let's spoil his mood even more," the Togruta suggested.

The euphoria from the change in the situation that had occurred was slowly receding into the background. And Tano felt that a worm of doubt was beginning to torment her.

For what did Grievous turn on the afterburners? Especially, having selected for this... all the Recusants that still maintained combat capability...

A realization as hot as boiling water made her feel uncomfortable. And from this she turned on the afterburners without thinking.

Space resembled a tangle of blue reactive trails, streaks of multi-colored turbolaser bolts, and dagger-like exhausts of numerous starships.

Ahsoka tried to slip through a cloud of droid fighters that had emerged from somewhere at the side, but with equal success one could go out into a downpour and try not to get wet. Two seconds later her shield absorbed an excessive amount of crimson blaster shots, thinning to the limit.

It seemed General Grievous had taken care that his ship had reliable protection.

The canopy once again darkened from a close explosion, and Ahsoka, as soon as the polarization dissipated even a little, saw that three Vultures were coming toward her, dousing her with the heavy fire of their cannons. Having performed a half-roll, she dodged the fire, catching two shots in the front shield, and launched the first missile.

The droids reacted almost instantly, aiming the cannons at her ship, rightly judging the leader of the "pair" to be a more valuable trophy. The front shields flashed with a white wall of light and heat, and a strained wail of a siren sounded in the cabin, witnessing the overload of the shields. Ahsoka, noting that one of the droids would never return on board its wingman for rotation, launched a second missile and went left. More and more Vultures were shooting at her—their number increased in geometric progression as she and Olee gnawed their way to the flagship. Now and then the tactical monitor reported that from different sides through the cloud of enemy starfighters surrounding the Recusant group, this or that Republic squadron was trying to break through, but so far without much success. The guys limited themselves to the fact that in almost range conditions they were exterminating the Separatist aviation. A flurry of red fire only slightly grazed the X-Wing, but this turned out to be enough for the tortured shields to treacherously creak and turn off. A sharp smell of burnt wiring rose in the air, and warning messages ran across the control screen, which Ahsoka couldn't make out because of the smoke and constant somersaults she had to perform so as not to become cosmic debris.

"R2, the main thing—watch the engines," the Togruta ordered her droid, leading her ship into a dizzying series of reverse rolls. "If we remain without headway in view of these guys, then we've really stepped in it."

The droid issued a cynical tirade in response. Ahsoka brushed the screen with a glance, smiling.

"You're not Anakin, of course, but I'll do everything in my power so we're not dismantled. It will be hard, but I'll manage." A humorist, indeed.

Ahsoka continued to maneuver until the flurry of cannon fire stopped for a second. She knew that the Separatist fighters wouldn't leave her alone so easily. And Olee either. Their algorithms had long ago calculated what danger a pair of heavy fighters of an unknown class could represent. And they undertook everything their digital fantasy was enough for not to let them through to the flagship. Ahsoka pulled the control stick up and to the left, nimbly surfacing from the mess of Separatist ships right to the stars to break away from several pursuers who had entered the tail. Olee, continuously tracing figures of aerobatics, didn't fall behind. But she too had a pair of "fans."

Through the haze in the cabin, the Togruta discerned a pair of bright dots and leaned to the tactical screen. Grievous's destroyer remained unreachable, swiftly receding from the pair of fighters. Although Republic starships were firing at it and its escort without stopping from all guns, the Recusant was moving fast. It had no visible damage, and it had practically reached the line of its own forward group. A very small distance separated it from the Republic starships... And the increased density of Separatist fire was already yielding its fruits. Several Hammerheads were blazing with thermonuclear fire, another pair was helplessly living out their last hours, throwing pieces of plating and streams of smoke into space. The denouement was swiftly approaching. And Ahsoka liked less and less what she foresaw.

A little more, and the Recusant strike group would rush forward, and then nothing would hold them. The ideal plan... fell apart like a house of cards. They wouldn't reach the flagship—the Vultures wouldn't allow it.

"Ahsoka!" Starstone shouted. "Do you see this?"

She saw. She saw how the huge mass of the forward group, having joined with Grievous's group, swiftly rushed forward.

"I see," the girl hissed.

They blew it. An unforgivable mistake that couldn't be corrected now—the enemy had raised additional aviation forces that held back the Republic fighters and bombers gathered at this section of space. It seemed they had already figured out the maneuver of the enemy commander on the "Telos." And, unfortunately, they could do little in response. The flagship, forcing its own engines, was shifting, opening its broadside to the advancing Separatist ships, dousing them from all guns. But despite the fact that local supernovae now and then arose in the enemy formation—now and then, either one or another Munificent ceased to exist, this was not enough.

A crimson burst brushed the barely restored aft deflector. Ahsoka, having read the warning from the astromech, made a reverse turn, at the peak catching one of the Vultures in the crosshairs and with an accurate volley turning it into scrap metal. A bit later, having rolled through the left planes, she destroyed two more, finally slapping the pursuers of Olee with missiles.

Through the cabin lantern she clearly distinguished that in the corridor among the minefield, Republic starship hulls were already flashing. They continuously attacked the damaged ships located in the Separatist fleet's rear, which, like the Republic fire-ships before them, performed the simplest role—holding the enemy until the forward units destroyed their targets. General Grievous used their same tactics against them.

And, unlike the "Blade" fleet, he had enough ships not only to crush Admiral Declan's forces, but also to methodically, having taken his position, deal with the reinforcement leaking under the minefield sphere in a thin stream.

An offensive miscalculation. They were outplayed.

The starfighters of the Republic reinforcement like a swarm of mosquitoes fell upon the enemy Vultures, having come out into operational space. The space around filled with a multitude of sparks of explosions...

But everything faded before what happened in the next second.

A wave of pain, death, horror flooded the Force. Thousands of sentients died in the blink of an eye. Ahsoka, having performed another figure of aerobatics, saw with pain in her heart how enemy ships already without any tactical elegance were simply ramming Republic starships, disappearing with them in thermonuclear fire. The already thin screen of Hammerheads and Marauders decreased by half in minutes. Yes, the number of Munificents in the Separatists also fell to an indecently low level, but their Recusant group, as if enchanted, continued its victorious movement toward the Republic flagship. Concentrated turbolaser fire licked away deflector fields, burned through the plating in hundreds of places at once, causing dozens of low-power internal explosions, from which it seemed as if the "Telos" shuddered with its entire hull.

But the ship lived. It methodically, not paying attention to its own holes, turned Confederacy destroyers into scrap metal, however with every minute its fire weakened more and more. The lower "spar," where the engines were located, was already enveloped in fire and smoke—the enemy was purposefully immobilizing its victim.

"They're going to take the ship by boarding," Starstone gasped.

"Figured it out," Ahsoka said, barely holding the tremor in her voice. Yes, Grievous had a thing—he preferred to deal with Jedi commanders personally. And, judging by the fact that his flagship was closing in at all speeds with the silenced "Telos," exactly that the cyborg was going to bring to life. While the girls were dealing with the Vultures that had fallen under the crosshairs, Grievous's ship had already moored to the Republic flagship.

"We must help!" the Emperor's apprentice declared resolutely.

"We'll help," Ahsoka assured her. "Only here, not there."

"But Grievous is there!" Starstone insisted.

"Worse for him," Ahsoka noted reasonably. "The Emperor is there."

The former Jedi tactfully did not remind her that besides Dougan, a group of four-thousand-year-old Dark Side adepts was present on the ship.

***

Quiet music insidiously diluted the melody of the unceasing hum of sentient conversations and the clatter of cutlery.

A cozy atmosphere, a pleasant interior with expensive decoration, and also the presence of live waiters instead of the habitual droids had long ago made "Cragget" one of the most fashionable restaurants of Coruscant.

And immeasurably expensive.

Gazing at the prices indicated in the menu, Billy barely held back from a shout of indignation tearing him apart. For the cheapest dish, a visitor had to give a simply indecent sum.

But the dishes from the chef already went by a price tag sufficient to acquire a good landspeeder.

"Mother mine in repulsor boots two sizes too small," he said softly, looking into the wine list. "What kind of money is this..."

"Kid," a familiar raspy Duros voice sounded in the earpiece. "You shout even louder, and then everything will definitely blow. Don't forget your legend, vibro-ax in your..."

"Yeah, I remember, I remember," the young bounty hunter hurried to assure his mentor. "Just... so many people in the galaxy are suffering, and here you can leave a sector's budget for one party..."

"I've been in more expensive places," the Duros recalled.

"Where's that?"

"Nowhere else," Cad Bane cut off. "After a nergon smoothie with a baradium cookie, there wasn't even a foundation left there."

"Yeah, a fun job," the young man sighed. "I didn't think I'd have to... act like this."

"Irritation," the mechanical voice of the assassin droid wedged into the conversation. "Shut your vocabu-lator, meatbag, before I perform a cavity operation on your cerebellum."

"Thanks," Kidd grunted. "You already fixed my teeth. Everything still hurts."

"Poorly hidden joy. Ready to work in free medicine all year round. Statement of fact. Nothing kills meatbags as effectively as state medical institutions."

He wanted to say something biting and offensive to the droid... But Billy held back.

Memories of how he had laughed at the rust on the ancient droid's hull flooded back in time. Who knew he was so touchy. And what assassin robot carries dental equipment with him? Moreover, treating teeth without a license, and even anesthesia, is quite an experience.

Especially when an ancient assassin robot with burning optical sensors leans over you, tied and helpless, and says "Grumpy grumbling. Why didn't you, meatbag, brush your teeth before bed? Warning. It will be painful, but you will live. Sarcastic correction. Most likely."

But, despite seven hours of unbearable pain, a pair of completely soaked underwear and pants, a pair of broken ribs ("Indignation. Don't move, meatbag, while I haven't removed your spinal cord instead of a nerve"), total lack of sanitation and triumphant comments of HK-47, every time he removed tartar and caries with a plasma cutter the size of a heavy repeater, the assassin was an excellent orthodontist. It was only annoying that as a doctor he advised opening the mouth less, motivating this by the fact that in response to sounds emanating from the young hunter's oral cavity in decent society, recently fixed teeth might end up in the mouth. Because Billy's jokes are not actually funny and in general it's surprising that he could live so long, and even keep teeth, albeit not in the best condition, but without a shortage in quantity.

Now Billy shone with a white-toothed smile and the gloss of an expensive suit. All this was seasoned with a fashionable hairstyle and luxurious attributes. The most necessary to attract attention. And create a proper impression.

"Mr. Kidd?" he heard a melodic voice behind his back.

"Ah, you Hutt belch!" Billy jumped up as if scalded, reacting to the sudden intrusion into his thoughts. However, before he managed to pull the blaster from behind his belt, his eyes were already looking at the guest standing before him with all their might.

She was not tall, she was pretty. Her chiseled figure was advantageously emphasized by an evening dress tightly fitting all the charms of a young body with a rather revealing neckline, where an inquisitive gaze could notice two firm-looking hemispheres...

"Now, eyes up, pup," the Duros hissed in his ear. "And straighten up, you're standing bent like a Twi'lek at a casting!"

Following his mentor's advice automatically, Billy with disappointment tore his gaze from the girl's charms, looking the guest in the face. Why are all the charms of the female sex not gathered in one place? Why is nature so merciless to male restraint? His neck will hurt, moving the gaze from bottom to top.

Although, who actually came up with the idea that during a conversation a man must look a woman in the eyes? Some kind of discrimination! What's beautiful in two eyeballs? Now breasts and a butt—that's a different matter!

"I'm glad to see you, Senator Chuchi," he, having depicted a friendly smile on his face, gallantly kissed the tips of the girl's fingers, while continuing to observe out of the corner of his eye how her chest rose rhythmically and enchantingly.

"Irritation. Is this meatbag going to keep staring at another meatbag's chest, pretending to kiss her hand for the second minute?" HK-47 creaked indignantly in the earpiece.

"If this lasts even another minute, I'll fire a rocket at their table," the Kenny drone wedged into the conversation. "It definitely won't be worse."

Billy, having realized that he had dragged out the traditional greeting too long, with a guilty smile straightened up, catching several evaluating looks from those sitting nearby. One of them—a stout Twi'lek with a blue skin tone and four head-tails, looked over the human and his companion from head to toe with a contemptuous-evaluating gaze. Despite the fact that he himself was surrounded by a good dozen representatives of the fair sex, and judging by manners and clothes—also of the oldest profession, his gaze caught on the back of Kidd's guest. As if he recognized her.

Billy became alert, habitually sliding his hand behind his back, preparing at any second to pull out the blaster and put the entire battery charge into the alien.

"You wouldn't say that from your first words," the girl smiled charmingly, fluttering her lush eyelashes, watching as Billy took his place at the table. She was waiting for something, not sitting down opposite... But what?

"Idiot!" the Bane's voice breathed in his ear. "You seat her first!"

"Persistent request. May I shoot him in the arm?"

Noticing a barely discernible laser sight dot on his jacket sleeve, Billy, like he was scalded, jerked to his feet, at the same time having moved the heavy table of natural wood with a terrible screech. The ring of broken glasses and dishes that showered from the tabletop attracted unnecessary attention to their table, caused extreme amazement on the guest's face and a resigned sigh in the ear microphone.

"P-please excuse me," he said at a gallop, gallantly pulling out a chair before the guest and allowing her to sink onto the soft seat. Having swallowed saliva that involuntarily formed in his mouth at the sight of the upper part of the girl's body from the height of his growth, the young hunter pushed the chair. "Seems like I overdid it," flashed in the man's head when the table's creak repeated, sounding in unison with a quiet "oh" from the girl whose wasp waist ended up squeezed between the chair back and the table edge.

"This is some kind of..." Billy didn't hear the rest of Cad's phrase, as he was distracted by a conversation with the administrator, smiling radiantly and politely reminding the guest that the cost of broken dishes would be included in the bill. Having mechanically nodded to the restaurant worker, Billy, having waited until the fragments of the by no means cheap utensils were removed, took his place at the table, habitually lowering his gaze to the guest's cleavage.

"You seem unusually absent-minded today," the girl said diplomatically, as if inadvertently folding her hands on the table, blocking the view of the beautiful for Kidd. Having sighed heavily, the man looked her straight in the eyes.

"Yes, you're right, Senator. The day was... hard."

"Like all of ours," she parried.

"I don't dare doubt your words," he noted sadly. Eh, if you knew, beautiful girl from a distant planet, how many nerves it cost a young guy from Tatooine to at least partially learn the norms of etiquette. And even for cover he had to run around Coruscant quite a bit. And all—for the sake of this conversation.

On which karking much depended. Primarily—for Bane's employer, whom Billy was not acquainted with. But, according to HK-47's assurances, if he blew it, the torments of dentistry would seem like heavenly delight to him compared to the wrath of the sentient whom in their small group they called none other than "the Emperor." What kind of creature was hidden behind this nickname, Billy didn't know. But he guessed that the sentient had no problems with fantasy registered.

"You have a quite extravagant manner of meeting guests," the girl with a smile hinted at his startled reaction. Billy felt how his face was filled with color.

"You approached so unexpectedly... and I was deep in thought.. reaction, you know. I have the fastest and most trained hand in the entire Outer Rim..."

The girl, not at all according to the rules of etiquette, snorted with laughter. The man frowned. Now why is she laughing?

"Forgive me, please," waving her hand as if she didn't have enough air, the Senator checked with accurate movements of her fingers whether the mascara had run. "But, you said it like... and your habit of keeping hands in trouser pockets..."

Well, a habit is a habit. Where else to put hands during a conversation? What's funny in this? Now, even Bane is starting to laugh in the earpiece.

"How was your day, Senator?" Kidd inquired in a neutral tone, seeking to change the topic of conversation. He didn't like it when they laughed at what he didn't understand.

The girl, after laughing quietly a few more times, returned her serious face. It seemed she realized that she had stepped out of the framework of a business dinner, therefore, to hide her own embarrassment, she reached for a glass with a reddish liquid.

"Mockery. You should have also asked what shampoo she washes her hair with," HK-47 noted maliciously. Billy ground his teeth. Now it's good for these three loafers. They sit in the airspeeder in the parking lot, observe through hidden cameras, and comment. And he—has to deal with it here.

"You know, it's been better," Riyo noted with sadness, elegantly sipping a glass of wine. Mentally Billy noted that about a hundred credits had just flowed into the girl's stomach. "The Senate is not a place of rest."

"Yes, I understand you," he almost without chewing sent some mollusk from his plate into his mouth. "Especially when all these protests are happening on the planet..."

The public was boiling all over the galaxy. But in the ecumenopolis that Coruscant was, it was noticeable as never before. The Republic's military failures, the increased number of worlds that joined the CIS, information about numerous Separatist atrocities on peaceful planets—all this caused in the locals what Cad pithily described as "the boiling of feces." True, the Duros almost immediately admitted that the author of this phrase was not him.

But it described the situation on Coruscant and in the Republic as a whole as accurately as possible. For such a wave of inhuman hatred that flooded the capital of the Republic, no one could recall. Despite the fact that the streets of the planet were flooded with ruthless and unceremonious clone patrols, the residents of the upper, lower levels, and middle ones too, openly expressed their dissatisfaction with the current situation. In particular, for some reason, the population of Coruscant—mostly humans—began to demand from the government the deportation beyond the star system of representatives of all those races that supported the CIS, or at least—withdrew from the Republic. Although the Chancellor declared for all to hear the need for tolerance, the non-involvement of most aliens in the atrocities of their distant kin, his opinion mattered to few. The people demanded. And the Government complied. With such a reluctance. And this despite the fact that with great pomp the Senate passed bills that legalized the work of fanatical pro-human organizations.

"You're right in this," Riyo agreed. "The time is restless now... However, you know it yourself."

"And she smiles sweetly," Billy thought. "And what even white teeth... Did HK do them for her too, or what?"

The circumstances of their acquaintance for the Senator looked extremely... plausible. If they weren't a staging.

"Oh, come on," Billy said embarrassedly. "I was just flying by. Any decent man would step in to protect a beautiful girl from vile bandits."

"I'll shoot your knee," Bane promised. "Found a vile one here."

"Yes... War changes people," the Pantoran grew somber. "To think that bandits can attack a Senator on the upper levels, and in broad daylight."

"You still haven't found out who it could be?" Billy inquired diplomatically.

"Unfortunately, the Senate investigative commission confessed its helplessness. Whoever the attacker was, he chose perhaps the only place and time when neither video detection means nor passers-by would notice anything. But in one thing everyone is sure—it was a Duros. Although, who it is and for what reason—is unclear."

"Perhaps you should get a guard?" Billy inquired.

"There is the Red Guard in the Senate," Riyo reminded. "They will protect me from any misfortune."

"Well, if they attacked in the middle of the day, they might try to do it there too," Billy recalled one of his key phrases prepared for this conversation.

"I don't think so," the girl objected. "The investigators said that in the entire galaxy only one bandit could have ventured such a thing. Cad Bane..."

"Fame runs ahead of me," a note of pride appeared in the Duros's voice.

"... but, they say that he disappeared, and he was not seen anywhere on Coruscant."

"Well, it seemed so to you out of fear," Bane huffed. A heavy sigh of his sounded in the earpiece. "Kid, are you sure this babe is exactly the one you need? She's as dumb as a cork. Not to realize that I could be exactly that Duros who attacked her..."

"Jeering remark. The level of intelligence of this meatbag is even lower than Kidd's. Forecast. If they ever produce smaller meatbags, these will be the dumbest sentients in the galaxy. May the master forgive me for using the word 'sentients'."

"Hey," Billy was indignant. "Actually..."

"Pardon me?" the girl looked with curiosity at the man sitting before her, who again almost jumped at the table.

"Oh... I..." Kidd felt how a trickle of sweat flowed down his back. He almost started talking to his mentor. In the guest's presence. Now that would be a number. "But do you really spend the whole day in the Senate? You need a guard outside it too..."

"Look at that," Bane whistled. "And he's not hopeless..."

"Yes, I thought about it," the Pantoran said with a sad smile. "However, my planet is not so rich as to allow itself such a luxury as round-the-clock protection for its Senator..."

"Kid, just don't kark it up..."

"Riyo," the girl smiled charmingly, propping her head with her hands and opening beautiful views to the young mercenary. Billy with effort of will suppressed in himself a predatory desire to fix his gaze on a certain part of her body. "I don't think I can allow a lonely and immeasurably beautiful girl to wander alone. Especially after an attack was committed on her... I even for a moment imagine that some dirty and vile bandits will again stretch their hands to you, blackening your un-fading beauty..."

"Kid, did you melt there, or what?" Bane inquired with doubt. "Let's go by the text!"

"And you're a master of showering compliments, Mr. Kidd," Riyo smiled. "You know, I haven't been told such beautiful words for quite a while..."

"Don't hang your ears, boy!" the Duros barked at the reddened Billy. "The fact that she absorbs your compliments doesn't mean yet that at the first whistle she'll spread her legs for you!"

"And I don't care," the young hunter started smiling. The girl's smile made his heart beat faster, and his blood boil. Now can such a beautiful creature really be one of those who implement the Republic's policy? No, of course not. She has nothing to do with it. She's for justice and harmony. For there being no more war...

"Billy?" he shook off the obsession, having started. "Are you thinking about something?"

"Yes," the guy confessed embarrassedly, but frankly. "Just when I look at you, I don't want to think about anything else at all and..."

"I'll pull all the DNA strands out of you, brainless!" Bane growled. "Do you even have balls? Pull yourself together, rag!"

"That's so sweet," the girl, smiling radiantly, fluttered her eyes. "Right, I've never before met such a gallant and frank person as you, Billy. It seems that fate itself brought us together..."

"Bane, it seems this pair found each other," Kenny commented. "Dumb and dumber..."

"Shut up, piece of iron," the Duros barked. "HK, if they continue to lick each other with verbal diarrhea, shoot this idiot's head!"

"Poorly hidden joy. From the anticipation of the picture of how Billy-idiot will scatter his brains, my processor is starting to heat up!" HK cooed.

The young hunter didn't doubt that now the droid-maniac was aiming at him from his favorite sniper rifle. Oh, what callous creatures! Don't they really understand that there's love at first sight between him and Riyo?!

"You know," having spat on all conventions, the young man in a fit of tenderness took the girl's hand in his. "I think I've been looking for you all my life..."

"I don't know why," the Pantoran was embarrassed. "But I have a similar feeling..."

"Oh, for kark's sake!" the Duros roared in his ear. "Since when does this krap work? Does she really have only two brain cells in her head?"

"... therefore I simply cannot allow you to remain without a guard while I'm not around," having swallowed a lump that had risen to his throat, Kidd with strain recalled the main points he had to convey to the girl at today's meeting. "Even if I'm not the richest person on Coruscant, allow me to provide you with a guard. Such senato... girls like you simply cannot remain without protection. After all, you mean so much to us... to me," he hurriedly corrected himself, feverishly thinking whether the girl noticed his slip. But judging by her sweet smile—no. All the better. "Unfortunately, business requires me to be in the Outer Rim most of the time. But I'll be calmer if my people guard you."

As soon as he said this, the laser sight dot on the girl's temple disappeared.

Hutt's HK.

"Oh, Billy," a look of admired surprise appeared on the Senator's face. "You're so gallant... We've seen each other only for the second time, and you're already so kind to me... Forgive my curiosity, but what do you do if you have to be there during the war?"

"Killing people," Billy almost blurted out, but bit his tongue in time. Mustn't step out of role. Although the deception toward the girl, especially this one, was beyond his own code of honor. However... the work required exactly this from him. And he had to step on the throat of his conscience. It was only comforting that he was doing it for good. In the name of the common good. And first of all, for her.

"I have a small but profitable transport company," this was not a lie. The company really existed. And really brought in good money. But until recently it belonged to a completely different sentient. Most of its fleet became the prey of pirates holding sway on the Far Rim. Naturally, the girl didn't need to know this. "I deal with cargo transportation."

"Sounds... sweet," a cautious smile appeared on the girl's face. "But isn't it dangerous?"

"Dangerous," he tried with all his might to play a look of grief before the girl, "not long ago we lost more than ten of our ships with all crews and passengers."

"Passengers?" she was surprised. "I thought your people transported cargo..."

"Until recently—yes," how ashamed he was that he lied so brazenly to the girl. "But when all these riots started on Coruscant, and in other central worlds too... In general, I couldn't remain aloof."

"You mean these persecutions of non-humans," the Pantoran grew somber, carefully taking her hand out of his tender grip. "Dark days have come in the Republic. COMPOR and its younger version—Junior Group, although they say they act for the benefit of the entire population, in fact... They simply set the human population against other races. Thousands of loyal subjects of the Republic are practically forced to abandon their housing, work, and flee from the Central worlds wherever their eyes look."

"Yes, I noticed it too..." Kidd once again swallowed the lump that had risen to his throat. "In a way, I try to help those whom I can..."

"How is that?" bewilderment appeared on the Pantoran's face.

"Kid... I adjure you, don't mess it up..."

"Can I trust you, Riyo?" he inquired with the maximum possible seriousness.

"Yes, of course..."

"Please, don't tell anyone about this, but..." He tried with all his might to depict internal struggle. "In general, there is a small but prosperous state in the Unknown Regions. There is no xenophobia there, their laws are strict but fair. I can't say that it's a paradise there—the state is young. Founded by a sentient who simply cannot indifferently watch what's happening in the galaxy. Therefore, he organized a new state. He has great resources and enough forces to protect his people from any threats."

"You're telling about almost an ideal ruler," Riyo added with a smile.

"Perhaps it is so," Billy shook his head. "But can one criticize a sentient who offers any unfairly oppressed the opportunity to start a new life where no war will touch him?"

"So that's what you're doing," the girl started smiling. "Transporting those who lost their homes here, in the Central worlds, to where it's safe?"

"To where they are welcome, and where there is no lawlessness," the young hunter recalled the cheat sheet.

"That's... amazing," the girl started smiling. "I didn't expect that there are still people in the galaxy who are capable of selfless acts..."

"Kid, this is the turning point," Bane said quietly. "Manage it, and the employer will shower you with gold..."

"That's so," Billy agreed. "But, as I already said, we have some problems. Pirates now and then attack my transport ships..."

"Yes, such things still exist in the galaxy. Regrettable, of course," the girl frowned. "Why don't you turn to the military? They would provide your ships with protection to the destination..."

"Exactly that cannot be done," Billy said heatedly. "Imagine what will happen if the Senate finds out that somewhere there, where they haven't paid attention for millennia, there exists a whole developed civilization, whose resource reserves are so huge that they'll last for thousands of generations?"

"I think the Republic would send emissaries to them..."

"The ruler doesn't think so. He observed what's happening in the galaxy long enough, and is sure that his state will be drawn into the war as soon as the CIS or corrupt Republic senators find out about the riches of these worlds. Therefore, he calls there only those who are ready to finally join his state. To take a single citizenship, and if required—to protect their new motherland with weapons in hands. Of course, it's the business of the army and fleet, and he has them. But you understand that starships don't shoot by themselves..."

"That is, you think that the Republic can attack this state to seize its resources?"

"I'm sure of it," Billy nodded. "Wasn't it so on Jabiim? Wasn't it because of injustice that the blockade of Naboo was organized by the Trade Federation? Can one in their right mind allow a private corporation to own a huge fleet of warships? And all the money of the Galactic Republic to be held and in the hands of the Intergalactic Banking Clan? It seems to me that although such traditions have formed for years before us, they are not the most correct ones. Just think—it's easier for the Republic to pay every unemployed person than to take measures to employ him?"

"Well... it's not such a simple matter," the girl was embarrassed. "Now on my home planet there is a huge number of unemployed—because our industry is not developed."

"And why is it in such a position?"

"We don't have such a big budget and..."

"But after all, the budget—that includes taxes and other income from industry! You pay huge taxes to the Republic treasury, but did it somehow help you solve the problem of economic collapse?"

"No," the girl said squeezedly, staring at one point on the table. And by her appearance one could guess that she lost interest both in this conversation and in her interlocutor.

However, although Billy realized that he had gotten too carried away, he could no longer leave everything as it was. Yes, sometimes he was carried away and some of his monologues he pronounced with great lack of thought, not caring that his actions could harm the interlocutor. And it didn't particularly worry him. Until now.

"Riyo... forgive me, please," he was feverishly thinking how he could get out of the situation. "Sometimes I'm carried away, and I..."

"You have nothing to do with it," she shook her head. "Just your words... I heard something similar from... one acquaintance of mine. He did a lot for our people to pull us out of the debt pit. But we all understand that this is—temporary."

"Why so?"

"He's a military man. A Grand Moff, to be more precise. Having found out about my planet's debts to the Trade Federation, he expressed a desire to help us. And many citizens of Pantora responded to his call. But all this work... it's connected only with the military branch. And we cannot but understand that as soon as the war ends, everything will again return to its circles."

"The Republic will forget about you again," Billy stated. This was not written to him by Cad. Even if the young hunter is not the most clever person in the galaxy, but sometimes clever thoughts also overtook him. And he was not always faster than them. "And again unemployment..."

"Exactly so," the girl agreed. "I already conducted negotiations with the Chancellor about helping Pantora. But he says that all budget funds go to the war. When adopting the current budget, the senators had to significantly reduce the social support sector of the population, and this is almost a catastrophe... It seems that after the war ends, bankruptcy and the introduction of external management await Pantora, if..."

"If—what?"

"You said that this state, in the Unknown Regions, takes care of its citizens in every way, right?"

Seeing a light in the girl's eyes, Billy felt how his heart broke. He had just by deception forced the girl of his dreams to make a decision, manipulating her from the very first day of acquaintance.

It was vile.

Even if Bane said that all this was—for the sake of saving lives. But to achieve good goals with the help of base means... It was wrong. And Billy with all his heart regretted that then on Tatooine he got involved with the Duros and his droid-maniacs.

"Boy, you're almost rich," Cad Bane said. But these words didn't warm the soul. All the credits in the world the young hunter would have exchanged for being frank with this delightful Pantoran. But he understood that as soon as he said something wrong, the droid-maniac would blow the heads of both her and him.

"Yes," he with difficulty overcame the spasm in his throat that prevented him from speaking. "Work for everyone, quite high salaries... There are definitely no starving and unemployed people there."

"Maybe because the population of this planet is not very large?"

Billy shook his head negatively.

"It's not a planet, Riyo. It's hundreds of star systems in different parts of the galaxy."

"Such a huge state?" in the girl's eyes appeared unspeakable surprise. "And the Republic knows nothing about it?"

"It doesn't know," Billy confirmed. "It's... relatively young. And continuously growing."

For a moment the girl fell silent, having stuck her gaze into a plate with salad. Although she didn't voice her thoughts, Kidd guessed what she was thinking about. He himself led her to these thoughts. And he simply hated himself for such a thing. But he could already do nothing. He simply didn't see an exit from the situation in which everyone would remain alive.

"Billy," the girl looked at him seriously. "Tell me, could you talk with the ruler of this state? Is there a place in their composition for... another planet... which desperately needs help..."

"Boy, I take back my words," the Duros's booming laughter was heard in the device. "Even if you are a fool of a fool at times, in the matter of deceiving naive fools—there is no equal to you."

"I think," Billy reached for a bottle with Corellian whiskey, "this is not as difficult to implement as it sounds."

Catching the girl's enthusiastic looks on himself, he drained the barely poured glass in one gulp.

***

"Archaeologists?" the youth's voice was not yet strong due to age, and therefore intruded into the ears with screeching notes. Which irritated even more. Stronger than the blizzard that had risen, now and then throwing stinging snowflakes in the face. Stronger than the fierce frost, chilling to the bones.

Stronger than the realization of the fact that everything went not according to plan.

The task was simple—fly in, land, take, fly away. And nothing foretold trouble—the Force kept silence, but as soon as their corvette landed and opened the entry hatch, a teenager appeared on the path literally out of thin air. A Jedi boy, exuding extreme suspicion in all directions, barely hidden with the help of the Force. "Apprentice," Atroxa realized. He doesn't know much. But masking himself in the Force—certainly.

One wonders, what did such a quite gifted guy (by the modern standards of the Jedi Order) need here? In this God-forgotten place.

More precisely, it's clear what he needed. The same thing as them. Но why the kark is there anyone here at all?

"Do you have problems with hearing, Padawan?" Kira approached the boy almost point-blank. The boy involuntarily recoiled. It's understandable—in such a mood it's better not to approach the former Jedi Knight at all. An aura of dissatisfaction and irritation emanated from her. It's understandable—the girl dressed lighter than everyone. No one thought they'd have to stick around in the cold for so long. By the way, and how much time has already passed?

"We've been waiting here for a ton of time," Celeste gave voice. "And what are we waiting for? Until we all freeze to death here?"

"Patience," Nadia's voice, muffling herself in fur clothes, almost got lost in another burst of snow. "I think our young friend was waiting for that Jedi over there..."

Following the direction in which the Sarkhai was looking, Atroxa saw a tall figure that was moving with sweeping steps through half-meter snowdrifts on the roof of the structure. But, unlike the boy, now a fully trained Jedi was approaching them. Not even so—an excellently trained one.

The Force around him as if didn't change. He skillfully masked his presence with the help of three Force techniques at once. And it was seen that he did it naturally. To be honest—he didn't even strain himself.

"Well, there," Celeste whispered to her. "And you said 'the Jedi have degenerated.' This one—is a beautiful specimen."

"Most likely even a piece one," Atroxa noted grimly. "I'll give the entire crew of the 'Adjudicator' if this is not a Shadow."

"I don't accept the bet," Morn shook her head barely noticeably. "That's him. Be on guard."

Meanwhile, the Jedi approached, having drawn level with his Padawan. He said something softly to his older comrade, after which the Shadow endowed them with a heavy gaze.

"Archaeologists practicing Force Concealment?" he huffed. His face was difficult to discern through the gusts of wind raising clouds of snow. But the Lethan could vouch for the fact that this Jedi very much loves his beard. Because she met such well-groomed facial hair on a Jedi extremely rarely. "Either I haven't been in the Temple for a long time, or you are not who you claim to be."

"Maybe we'd better go into the vestibule and talk without snow?" Kira suggested. "If we freeze to death, they won't be happy in the High Council."

"Well, let's go," the Jedi huffed once more, having turned his back to them. Having exchanged glances with the other Hands, Atroxa only shrugged. Yes, everything is not according to plan, but there was no sense also in shouting that everything is lost. Perhaps the Master simply didn't know that there are "watchmen" in the Telosian Jedi Academy.

The Academy on Telos IV was secretly created by the Order a little more than three and a half thousand years ago, after the so-called Jedi Civil War. In the course of it, Revan and his apprentice Malak, former Jedi who served Emperor Vitiate, rebelled against their "guild" colleagues. Malak betrayed Revan, and, believing that he was dead, began to rampage through the galaxy. One of his goals was the destruction of the Jedi enclave on the planet Dantooine. It would seem that it was an irreparable matter, since at that time the Dantooine enclave had great influence on the Order itself. However, it turned out that the Jedi, so to speak, laid out straw. The memories of the Great Hyperspace War were still fresh, and, fearing that one day the Sith would return and start cutting Jedi and destroying their legacy, the Order secretly created a secret academy on the planet Telos IV—the only inhabited one in the entire eponymous system. Here for millennia Jedi collected and kept their secrets, holocrons, relics. But, by the old Jedi tradition, they didn't disdain also the preservation of the Sith legacy.

The galaxy after the fall of Malak for a long time was tormented by various kinds of conflicts. The Jedi were almost destroyed, but, like any weed, they reminded of themselves again. And continued to accumulate their knowledge. They kept some part all the same in the Temple on Coruscant—by what principle the division occurred—is not entirely clear. Even the ruler didn't know this. But the fact remained a fact.

After the brilliant plundering of the Temple by the forces of Shae and her Mandalorians, the Jedi had to somehow compensate for the losses of their values. They didn't particularly start looking for the robbers, therefore, obviously—since there is someone from the Order here—they decided to check the old stores.

A pity that the paths of the two groups crossed.

"Leave the clothes here," as soon as the entry gates closed, the tall Jedi snapped. He himself, not being particularly stingy, threw off the heavy fur clothes, having carelessly hung them on the nearest corner of the wardrobe. The girls who followed him, having settled each before a chosen locker for clothes, began to get rid of sheepskin coats and cloaks. Atroxa, observing the senior Jedi, mechanically took off the heavy jacket, silently evaluating the one who stood before her.

She didn't even pay attention to the boy—a puny fellow, barely learned to shave. There will be no problems with him in case of anything.

But the senior Jedi after—that was another matter. He was tall—more than two meters. Athletically built—muscles literally tore the clothes on him. He looked about forty, but in his gaze a mature wisdom was read. His skull was deprived of hair, but on his face there was a wedge-shaped black beard with gray hair.

On his belt hung two light blades. The Lethan, having squinted, noticed that the color of the hilts betrays the addition of cortosis into the metal. Of the same color was the heavy armor on him, covering all without exception vulnerable places of human physiology. This man was unequivocally a fighter—and judging by the lightness of his movements— not one of the ordinary average ones.

There will unequivocally be problems with him. Because he stood across the only exit from the room, having folded his hands on his chest, fastidiously looking over his guests. He clearly suspected something—otherwise how to explain that he with a nod of his head forced his Padawan to disappear in the corridor. The boy, as soon as he was outside the room, practically immediately disappeared, having used Cloak.

Something was clearly happening here, but... what?!

"Interesting ship you have," the man noted, having propped his hands on his hips.

"We like it ourselves," Celeste said in a neutral tone, getting rid of heavy boots worn over light footwear.

"Can't you tell me where to get the same one?" he said with mockery. Atroxa, casting a glance at her colleagues, felt the wrongness of what was happening. A feeling of danger, death... The Force shone with revelation. "As far as I remember, there is only one such—at a member of the High Council. What was his... Master Dougan, isn't it?"

"Issued for exemplary service," Kira squinted, as if inadvertently having put a hand on her own light staff.

"To which master?" the Jedi smirked, having met the gaze with the Lethan. "However, don't answer. I can vouch—Dougan is that Sith Lord whom the entire Council is looking for. He climbed high. Well, the more pleasant it will be to finish him off."

He was frankly having fun. And, apparently, he knew perfectly who they were. And, what's even worse—he had extremely dangerous guesses, in the correctness of which he had already convinced himself.

"We can do everything the good way," Celeste said. "No one wants bloodshed."

"You are mistaken," the Jedi with a smirk took his swords from the belt. "I want it. And no one of you will leave here alive. You," he poked a finger in the direction of Grell, standing behind everyone. "In particular."

"A personal grudge?" Atroxa was surprised, casting a side glance at the Sarkhai. "When did you manage to cross him already?"

The girl stood, having knitted her brow.

"A secret Jedi prison," she said softly. "You were a warden there."

"And you—a Sith concubine, deceived me, having taken an important witness," yes, these two unequivocally had a common history. "I think, there is no need to ask, is he alive?"

"No need," Nadia said calmly. "You won't collect him in hyperspace anyway."

"Bloodthirsty," the man huffed. Practically immediately after his words, something thundered behind the entry door. As if a piece of rock collapsed. "Don't pay attention. A small precaution so that you don't leave our event ahead of time."

"You were waiting for us?" Atroxa was surprised.

"After your henchmen plundered the Temple?" he clarified. "Naturally. It was clear to everyone that the Sith are looking for ancient knowledge. Therefore, the Council... insured itself. To confess, when Windu said to me 'Master Albert, you have a chance to kill a Sith,' I didn't delay for a second. And I'm a thousand times more glad that the Sarkhai didn't come alone. But also brought friends with her."

"There is nothing here, isn't it?" Kira clarified, and received as an answer an affirmative nod of the head.

"Nothing, except us," a voice sounded behind the giant Jedi. Atroxa, having huffed, saw how the corridor behind the acquaintance of Grell fills with Jedi, tearing off their Masking.

There were about ten of them. All as if selected—tall, strongly built, encased in armor with cortosis dusting. Faces, hidden behind impenetrable masks of the Temple Guards, clearly witnessed that there are no accidental people here. For once in a while the Jedi managed to perform something that went beyond the framework of their usual passivity—set a trap in which practically all the Hands of the Emperor fell. Even the apprentice of Sariss—and she got into a scrape. Now she, carefully pumping herself with rage, stood under Morn, with impatience squeezing the lightsaber in her hand.

"I suggest not to desecrate the walls of this ancient enclave," Celeste gave voice. "We are not Sith, and, I think, we'll agree..."

"No negotiations," Master Albert shook his head negatively. "Only death."

"Notice," Kira for a moment closed her eyes. When her eyelids opened, the woman's iris blazed with incandescent gold. "It wasn't us who said it."

And, before anyone managed to realize, she, having thrown her hands forward, with a most powerful Push threw the Jedi out of the room, having simultaneously knocked down two more with his body.

"No mercy!" she growled, being the first to fly out of the door.

"How all this is wrong," Celeste sighed, having activated her own light blade. The other Hands, having turned on their weapons, rushed after Karsen.

"May the Force be with you all," one of the guards shouted to his comrades, and activated the lightsaber. With a difference of a few moments, the others also lit their two-handed light staffs.

"Stay next to me," Celeste said over her shoulder to Sariss. "Cover the back, and don't look for trouble."

"Okay," she said, having licked her parched lips.

Both sides clashed. The Force roared like a spectator of a bloody slaughter, demanding more and more blood.

Yellow lines of Jedi blades shone in the air. They collided with the motley color range of the Hands' swords, striking sparks and having filled the room with the hum of battle.

Atroxa opened herself to the all-consuming rage boiling in her, and rushed forward. Emotions fed her power, and she felt how the might of the dark side envelops the body and grows inside it.

Karsen blazed with white-hot rage, having collapsed a flurry of blows on a pair of Jedi nearest to her. And, it was worth blinking, one of them fell dead with a smoking strip of a split metal across his face.

Nadia ended up next to her. Outwardly calm, she without excesses moved smoothly in the battle, as if dancing, time after time blocking the lunges of the enemies crowding her, not allowing herself to be pushed away from the group of comrades. A very correct decision. While the girls are in the minority—it's worth someone of them to end up in loneliness, and the Jedi will easily finish her off, having suppressed with quantity.

Celeste, like an unshakable statue, grandly, almost lazily, reflected the attacks, not undertaking any techniques for counterattack. Which cannot be said about Sariss, who, like a nimble womp-sand-dog, spun in the whirlwind of her blue blade, crushing and cutting everything and everyone with it.

Here, inside the long-forgotten by the galaxy temple, irreconcilable opponents met: supporters of the Unifying Force, easily passing from one side to another, against outwardly calm Jedi, whose Light was so bright that, it seemed, could blind. Here the age-old dispute must be decided: the one who better understands the Force—will survive, and his opponent must die.

For the first time in millennia, the theoretical dispute passed into a practical channel.

Atroxa wanted to fight with Master Albert, but in this commotion she could not find him in the crowd among the flashing faces, dust and shining blades. Therefore she chose an opponent for herself at random. The Jedi was a human—a man—with a young, impenetrable for emotions face, who completely gave himself to the battle, personally turning himself into a combat organic droid. Which will never stop if his opponent survives.

To the misfortune, for Atroxa, as for any other Hand, a loss here meant the collapse of everything. Primarily—if they die, they will let down the Emperor, who might die, so and not having found out that he is exposed. And, unfortunately, the Lethan had no time to send him a mental message.

The air filled with the interweaving of energetic Force waves emanating from the Jedi and the Hands fighting between themselves. Everything around mixed into a chaotic and roaring tangle of bodies, lightsabers, furious shouts.

This chaos turned out to be broken when the quiet-Grell, having caught one of her opponents, cut off both his wrists, after which in a fraction of a second she ended his suffering with Force Lightning, having turned the opponent into a charred ember. Then, as if nothing had happened, she stepped over his body and continued to fight.

Atroxa, having missed one of the opponent's blades over herself, having intercepted the hilt with both hands, poked him with the tip of the blade in the armpit, but only achieved that her weapon, having blinked, turned off. Now these bastards! They eat that cortosis or what?

Seeing the satisfied expression on the enemy's face, she answered him with a smirk, having collapsed a Push on him. He, having surrounded himself with a Barrier, absorbed the Force of her attack, after which, having gotten rid of the protection, continued his offensive. The Lethan continuously pressed the activation button, but the weapon stubbornly kept silent. She had to improvise. Having taken the sword hilt with two hands and having swung, the Jedi delivered a blow from above to cut his opponent in half. Atroxa dodged and directed the blow of her boot into the Jedi's head, sending him into a deep sleep, from which he is unlikely to come out—with a smashed temple for sure.

Kira, on whom for unclear reasons as many as three Jedi crowded, at the last moment parried the threat from the back, and immediately delivered a whipping blow with her leg to the stomach of the treacherous Jedi. From the blow he folded in half, and, staggering, flew back about five steps. Having performed a backflip, Karsen, having turned over in the air, landed at his back, and, having directed the sword into the unprotected space of the bared lower back, almost lovingly introduced one of her blades at an angle, having pierced most of the Jedi's internal organs. Having issued a cry of pain, he fell face down on the floor. Kira, victoriously having spun the blade before herself, with a free hand beckoned a pair of stunned opponents.

Meanwhile, a pair of blue blades flared again. Atroxa, finally having lit her sword, carelessly parried the lunge of some Guard. He, awkwardly holding the blade with both hands, raised it over his head. Having sighed tiredly, the Lethan delivered a telekinetic blow to this clumsy fellow, and he flew to the side, having hit with a terrible force one of the high stone walls, where he remained lying motionless, with blood flowing out of the face mask.

The fight, it seemed, began to take on an even more chaotic character. Jedi and Hands ran, jumped, rolled, and everywhere the hissing sound of meeting blades of red, blue and yellow colors was heard. Telekinetic blows threw bodies into the air, hurled them into walls, scattered stone fragments from the floor, which bit into the bodies of the fighters. The corridor turned out to be filled with a cacophony of sounds: the roar of winners, the moans of the defeated, the hum of lightsabers. Lady Atroxa was in the thick of the battle and reveled in it.

And there was no concern that from the inner rooms of the temple Jedi and Padawans began to appear and join the battle. Who even closely didn't look like that strike group that met them. It turns out... not everything is so categorical as Master Albert said. It seems, the Hands managed exactly in time.

She saw how Nadia jumped high, dodging the blades of the bald bearded man, having leaped over him in a high arc, having ended up behind the young Jedi who had just run up to the battle, clad in traditional tunics and cloaks. At the moment of touching the floor, the girl produced a powerful Force release, the energy of which scattered the non-entities away, like dry leaves. Having smeared them at the same time on the walls, like sludge.

"I'll kill you!" the bearded man growled, having rushed at the girl. She, having charged him with Lightning, simultaneously sat down, having thrown over herself a thin Padawan who had appeared from nowhere, the one who met them. The boy, it seemed, intended to capture a seasoned gifted one, but miscalculated. The Sarkhai, not paying attention to his praying squeals, drove one of the blades of her staff into his eye, having pinned the boy to the floor. And at the same time she didn't stop sending branchy crackling streams of energy into the obsessive Jedi.

He easily blocked them with his blades, inexorably approaching the girl, with a face disfigured from rage.

Atroxa, so as not to fall behind the company, picked out a girl-Jedi from the general commotion. Pretty in appearance, and under other circumstances... But, having met her eyes, the Lethan smirked, threw forward her left hand, and from the tips of her fingers blue-violet lightnings erupted. Writhing, the energy lines flew forward, having thrown away two Padawan-idiots who ended up on the path, who poked out from nowhere, until they crashed into the Jedi Knight, having knocked her off her feet.

She screamed in pain when the lightnings began to tear her body, which became for a time semi-transparent from the dark power passing through her. Atroxa enjoyed her pain until she died, as did the Padawans who fell under the distribution.

She caught a cautiously-excited gaze of Celeste on herself, and with a smirk saluted her with her lightsaber. Sariss at this moment went to the side from the line of attack of her young opponent—another Padawan, at the same time having tripped him. Following that, she, having strengthened her impulse with the Force, with a swing kicked him in the body, from which he screamed wildly. Through the Force Atroxa felt that his ribs flew apart into dozens of shards that pierced the internal organs, having caused abundant internal bleeding.

With a deceptive feint having forced her new opponent to make a mistake—a typical and unremarkable Jedi, the Twi'lek cut off his right hand, squeezing the lightsaber hilt, at the elbow, after which, having stepped behind his back, intercepted the sword with a reverse grip and pierced him through.

A Jedi-Zabrak collapsed nearby, whose half of the skull slid off from the hit on the floor. Kira unperturbedly stepped on the severed skull, which crunched under her weight, after which she clashed with one of the Guards, who somehow remained alive.

There was not even sense in looking around to evaluate the situation. Atroxa knew that they were winning the fight, and that it would soon end. The corridor was strewn with the bodies of Jedi—Padawans, Knights, Guards, men, women, quite young children... The picture of the bloody slaughter, which four young girls and one blonde brat arranged here for more than three dozen Jedi, caused gagging. But in her long life the Lethan too often participated in such things to allow herself an emotional reaction.

She looked around, looking with eyes for the last member of the Jedi strike group. Albert, like an untiring robot, was delivering blows with both blades, forcing Nadia to back away, having passed into a blind defense. The Sarkhai, absolutely not expressing any emotions, didn't even try to show her interest in what was happening. She habitually transferred the monstrous in power blows of the Jedi into smooth sliding movements, avoiding a hard blocking of his attacks, which would inevitably break her defense style. Despite the absurdity of what was happening, the Sarkhai didn't show in the Force any panic or danger for the development of the conflict.

Everything is clear here.

Before the eyes flashed a massive projectile, having rushed with a dizzying speed into the far part of the corridor, having knocked off their feet a pair of Jedi who appeared seconds earlier from around the corner.

"Right in the bull's eye," Sariss commented with laughter. Celeste, who stood nearby, shook her head disapprovingly. Kira endowed the young beast with an approving smile.

"It seems, we've settled it here," Atroxa smirked.

"And Nadia?" Morn was surprised, having nodded in the direction of the fighters.

"Oh, everything is clear there," the Lethan sighed. "Exhausting the fool, and then..."

Unexpectedly for everyone, the corridor filled with a female cry of pain. The female death squad immediately turned around, having seen that the Sarkhai, having lost the blade cut in half, sat on her knees, having surrounded herself with a Protective Bubble, on which the giant with a crazy triumphant laughter was delivering blows with his blades. From Atroxa's gaze it didn't escape that Nadia was clutching her stomach with her right hand, in the armored chest plate of which the edges of a slanted cut were seen.

"Bitch," Kira swore. "He got her after all! Don't interfere, I'll be quick!"

And, before anyone could object to her, the girl dashed from the spot, on the move having released a lightning at her opponent.

He willy-nilly had to stop the attacks on the exhausted Sarkhai, having switched to the former Jedi, who from a standing start from a calm beauty turned into a furious fury.

Showering him with a mad hail of blows, which seemed unthinkable from the point of view of logic, Karsen forced the giant to go into defense, slowly but surely pushing him to the side from the wounded friend. She alternated fencing sequences with Force techniques, now and then forcing the enemy to knock down the rhythm and combat concentration.

Atroxa and Celeste, having ended up next to the Sarkhai, carefully picked her up by the arms, slowly dragging her away from the boiling battle.

"Lady Grell, are you okay?" Sariss inquired worriedly, looming before the face.

"I definitely won't die today," she said, grimacing from the pain. "But it will already be shameful to wear a bikini..."

Having heard a chuckle from Celeste's side, Atroxa helped seat the wounded one near the doorway leading to the locker room. The former Jedi Shadow without any piety got rid of the useless now chest plate of the Sarkhai, unceremoniously tore the fabric of the blouse, having bared a snow-white flat tummy, which was crossed by a slanted ugly scar—a trace from the tip of a lightsaber.

"A couple of centimeters deeper, and the Emperor would have already never kneaded your buns," the Lethan tried to joke. Having caught the condemning gaze of Morn, an accompaniment under which the Grell continued to hiss and swear softly in Huttese, the Lethan preferred to silently observe the duel of the two Jedi.

She didn't have even a thought to join the battle. Not only because Kira didn't ask for it, but mainly due to the fact that in all these millennia Atroxa so and never fought with that side by side. Combat compatibility, the ability to feel the strong and weak sides of a colleague and with profit use them in battle—a science that should be learned. Here the Force is not particularly a helper—except that Combat Meditation can level the flaws.

But among those present here ladies not one possessed such a skill. And that means, to climb to Karsen with help, means to force that to scatter attention between the battle with the Jedi and how not to finish off the partner. No way—let her fight herself, since she wanted it so. Moreover, if the big guy finishes her off—the Lethan definitely won't cry.

Right then Kira jumped high, having dodged the cross blow of the man, landed behind him and delivered a sliding blow from bottom to top, which the Jedi could parry with a blow of one of his lightsabers. The girl gracefully broke the distance, at the same time having slapped a short discharge of Lightnings into the Jedi, from which he was forced to defend himself, instead of pursuing the enemy.

However, it was worth him again to discern the opponent, as he roared like a wild beast. He was filled with a thirst for battle. A desire to take another's life. It was so strong that he was ready to kill everyone in a row, including his warriors, if someone of them fell under his hand. He wanted to kill, he needed to kill, to do it with his own hands. And it doesn't matter who it will be.

To the luck of the Jedi themselves, they ended just a bit earlier than their colleague, who was rapidly falling to the Dark Side, had an opportunity to drink Jedi blood.

Kira dove under the sword of the man-Jedi who was delivering a swift dash, rushed forward, and, having ducked under his slashing blow with the second blade, parried the blue blade with one of hers, straightened up to full height, having jumped, slapped the man with a headbutt in the face. The Jedi, who was confused for a moment, retreated back with a howl, with his hand wiping the swiftly oozing streaks of blood from his eyes. At the same time he didn't forget about Karsen, awkwardly but effectively having blocked her lunge.

The girl crouched and, having extinguished one of her blades, with the remaining one slashed at Albert's knees. But he managed to jump and answered with a blow of energy that sent the girl sliding on her back through the entire hall.

"I'll gut you like a bantha!" he shouted, with swift leaps approaching the girl. He moved his hand to the side and in it ended up his second blade, which he, like two spears, plunged upon completion of his jumps into Kira.

But, instead of that he pierced the floor covering with such force that the blue blades entered the permacrete up to the very hilts. The man growled, deactivating his weapon—a method much simpler than taking them out of the building material that was rapidly losing density.

And in the same second he received a knee in the face from Kira who ended up nearby. The armored elements of her suit with a juicy crunch crushed the lower jaw of the Jedi. The power of the blow was such that he was literally tossed and turned over in the air.

"Class," Sariss gasped admiringly. "Mentor Morn, will you teach me to do the same?"

"I'll teach to kill without showing off," Celeste promised grimly. "Just keep quiet, I need at least a bit to patch up Nadia..."

The Lethan out of the corner of her eye saw that the ancient Jedi, having put her palms on the wound, was diligently calling to the Light Side, forcing her hands to glow with the soft yellow light of a healing technique. It's understandable—with the cut muscles of the stomach you won't particularly walk.

Meanwhile, Kira, not particularly ceremoniously, drove the blade into the chest of the Jedi lying on the ground. A second was required for her to realize the reason why instead of a gaping wound in the Jedi's torso, her sword simply turned off. It was enough for Albert to deliver a monstrous blow with his fist in the girl's face.

Kira flew to the side. Staggering and rubbing the bruised place, the girl, having spat several teeth on the floor, with a most powerful push sent the man who barely rose to his feet into flight, having printed him into the opposite wall.

The girl, having made several steps toward the battered Jedi, stopped halfway, his rage temporarily subsided. She met the eyes with Albert, who, squeezedly coughing, tiredly took a battle stance.

"You're a corpse," the girl promised, having lit the extinguished blade.

"Come and take it, Sith concubine," the Jedi spat blood on the floor, having spun the swords with his wrists.

Anger again filled the girl, increasing the power of the Force in her. A cry of malice and hatred escaped from her throat. The powerful energy of the Dark Side burst out, having scattered in sides the pieces of bodies and equipment of the Jedi.

She again rushed at the man. Her rage and power rushed before him as a tangible wave. Albert in his turn rushed to meet her. They closed in. For a moment the opponents stood at a distance of a meter, studying each other.

For them there was no one around—only they two—Karsen with her malice and rage, and Albert with his calmness and composure. His own anger evaporated, and now the Shadow shone in the Force with the purest Light side.

Their blades met with a hissing sound. To the tension of the muscles each of them added the Force, but not one of them had an obvious advantage. Kira furiously growled in the man's face. Only a wrinkled forehead and a firmly squeezed line of lips betrayed the tension that the outwardly absolutely calm Jedi experienced.

He sharply went to the side, having collapsed his blades on the girl's side, forcing her to retreat, to break the distance. She answered, delivered several powerful blows with the sword from different sides. Albert retreated, fighting back, not in power to answer with his own blows. As if with the refusal of rage, the physical forces began to leave him little by little. He was frankly tired—and it was seen with the naked eye. While Kira, also experiencing the same ailments, was pumping the Unifying Force through herself, shaking off the fatigue, at the same time having pumped herself with rage and adrenaline.

She tried to cut off the Jedi's head, but he managed to block her blows again and again. And with every time his movements became slower and slower...

Kira, having ducked under the sweeping blows with blue swords, with a turn delivered a blow with her leg to the opponent's chest, having supplemented it with the Force. The Jedi was thrown back about five meters. He turned over in flight through himself and landed on his feet, having sat on his haunches next to the corpses of a pair of Padawans.

But, he didn't manage to be imbued with grief from the realization of the death of his colleagues, Kira again ended up nearby, lightning-fast cutting off the upper part of one of the swords. Along with a pair of fingers. Albert at the last moment managed to roll away to the side, and, having rushed to the side of the former Jedi, delivered a series of fast blows and sharp lunges with his sword. Karsen with difficulty parried one blow after another, but could not find a moment for a counterattack. In the Force the exhaustion of the Jedi's forces was clearly felt. He gathered them into a fist, with one-only thought—to finish off the dangerous opponent. To finish off at least one. The consequences no longer interested him.

Having approached almost point-blank, Albert slashed with the sword crosswise. Kira managed to parry, and the man at this time managed to deliver with the hilt of his lightsaber a blow in the previously affected part of the girl's face, having left on it a long curved wound.

Kira once again broke the distance, having touched the wound with the tips of her fingers. Having seen blood on her hands, she huffed, again spinning her weapon to continue the attack.

Albert, staggering, stepped forward and prepared with a transverse blow of the sword to cut the girl's throat.

To his misfortune, she clearly saw all his actions.

She sat down, having blocked with one of the blades the blue blade of the opponent, parrying the blow, with a circular movement freed her weapon, having cut off at the same time the limb of the enemy, following which with a sharp movement cut him in half.

Atroxa rolled her eyes, having seen how in the area of the lower back the tip of a golden blade flashed. Then the upper part of the man's torso fell on his back, finally symbolizing his death.

"Is that all?" Atroxa inquired impatiently, demonstratively having tapped a finger on the chronometer dial. "We actually have business still."

Kira indifferently shrugged. With a movement of her hand she with the help of Telekinesis tore off the man's chest plate, having squeezed it into a disfigured piece of metal. The girl lowered the weapon with the blade down, having grabbed it by the opposite part, from which the deadly energy no longer shone, and not looking at the defeated, but still living opponent, who had forgotten himself in delirium, having established the tip of the blade in the middle of the waist, plunged it to the end into the disfigured flesh, after which she pointedly slowly divided the upper part of the torso into two approximately equal halves.

"Now that's all," she assured in such a tone from which a chill ran down Atroxa's back.