The young woman, with the arrogance and disdain for those around her typical of workers from Kuat, looked up from contemplating the Aurebesh text on her datapad screen. Glancing at the Jedi sitting before her (at least, the lightsaber on the belt of the frankly vulgarly dressed Twi'lek spoke of her belonging to the Order), the temporary head of Rothana Heavy Engineering, Nora Pifel, lowered her eyes to the text once more.
She had received her post very recently—not even a month had passed since she took office. It had been an extremely painstaking and long road to the heights of power. It had required great agility, the ability to cozy up to those who could help at the right time, and to get rid of unnecessary and compromising acquaintances. Yes, she had to grease some palms and lie in more than one bed, but her natural beauty, sharp mind, and unerring ability to see prospects had done their job.
In particular, working as a personal sales manager first for the 13th Sectoral and then for the 10th Systems armies had given her a huge push forward. For this, she had Grand Moff Dougan to thank, and, to be honest, it was for a meeting with him that she had been preparing, having learned that "some big shot from Ghent" was flying to Rothana.
But instead of a personal visit, the extravagant Jedi had sent his bedwarmer... that is, his deputy. And yet, how simple it would have been if the Jedi were more... human, perhaps? Instead, they lock themselves in their Temple, you can't have a drink with them, or sleep with them... And yet, there are many popular personalities among them, a close acquaintance with whom could hint to the management of Kuat Drive Yards that the young and sharp employee should be made a full-fledged head of RHE, rather than "acting."
"If you read it for the sixth time, the meaning won't change," Aayla Secura stated.
The Jedi sat in the chair opposite, legs crossed like a professional street... In any case, all women of this race behaved in such a manner. And it wasn't as if the rumors about their availability were an exaggeration. Any wealthy man (or woman—Nora added to herself, recalling her villa on Kuat) could afford to have a whole staff of beautiful and attractive exotic Aliens from Ryloth satisfying all his needs. And the women of this species were by no means against such treatment. From representatives of any race or gender.
Therefore, the actions of the sexy Jedi, her demanding nature and principled stance, slightly baffled the girl. A representative of a non-human race simply shouldn't behave this way toward a human! Where was the subservient respect, the servility before a representative of the titular race of most of the inhabited worlds of the Celestial River?
Was Nora a xenophobe? Partly, yes. Her upbringing did not allow her to treat other races as equals. However, such a worldview did not prevent her from using them for her own purposes. Which led to the logical conclusion: the lot of other races is to serve humans. Even the leadership of the Republic understands this—it's no coincidence that the Commission for the Protection of the Republic organized the deportation of most of the alien population of Coruscant. Even if they were representatives of those races that were part of the separatist movement, Nora considered this only the first sign. Ideally, all aliens should be sent beyond the Mid Rim—the Far Frontiers are where they belong.
"Listen, Knight Secura, I was informed of the Chancellor's decision, of course, but you must also understand: Rothana is not the property of the Republic, and such actions..."
"It is a security measure, Director, nothing more."
"We have enough of our own planetary forces to repel any attack," Nora noted coldly. She didn't like what was happening, not one bit. "It looks more like the Republic doesn't trust us and is seeking to take control of our facilities..."
"Let's not get bogged down in politesse," Secura requested. "The Chancellor has approved the transfer of Rothana and all its production complexes to the direct management of the Ghent systems army command. This decision has been discussed with your management on Kuat. Therefore, all current indignation is simply shaking the air, which is pointless."
"Understand me correctly, too!" the girl raised her voice. "Stationing four hundred thousand clones on the planet is no simple task!"
"Not clones, but volunteers," the Jedi's cold tone was irritating. What does this insolent Alien think she's doing?! "We need the clones on the front lines. The fighters from Christophsis will do an excellent job of ensuring security on the planet."
"But their number is four times the number of Rothana's own law enforcement forces and security officers combined!"
"Really?" the Twi'lek expressed her surprise quite unconvincingly. "Then a half-million-strong contingent will handle any possible threat."
"You intend to bring an entire armada here!" Nora continued to fume. "Two hundred Hammerheads! This is beyond all bounds..."
"Your corporate fleet of fifty battleships is far too weak a defense," the Jedi girl parried.
"Sufficient to keep Rothana's location a secret from the entire galaxy for decades," Nora growled. "Now you've brought nearly half a million people here—soldiers and starship crew members, every one of whom could compromise the secret of our location! The separatists are scouring the stars to find a way here! And you are, one might say, simplifying their task!"
"Is that so... And I thought that your security system, which includes a hundred Golan platforms around the orbital shipyards, gravity mines along the entire route to the planet via secret hyperspace routes from Kamino and Molavar to Rothana, an IFF system, and more than ten thousand fighters on the planet and in orbital hangars—was more than adequate protection for a single planet," a metallic edge appeared in the Jedi's voice.
"You are quite well-informed about our defense systems," the girl grew wary. "For what purpose were you gathering this data?"
"All information was provided by Kuat Drive Yards," the Twi'lek shrugged. "It is described in the supporting materials for project Ice Fang. The very one under which RHE has been creating a fleet of ships and military equipment for the Grand Army of the Republic for more than ten years. It seems," the blue-skinned woman tapped her finger against her lips theatrically, "this contract is still in effect, is it not?"
"It is," Nora squeezed out. The realization that she had blundered in her "attack" on a member of the Order sobered the girl slightly. She had to keep herself in check—she could lose even what she had now. The Order owns shares in Kuat Drive Yards—the parent organization of Rothana Heavy Engineering. And their word means a lot to the Kuat family. Hutt policy of pleasing shareholders!
"In that case, I see no obstacles to you fulfilling Grand Moff Dougan's requirements," the Twi'lek's eyes flashed. "They are simple and will not require any expenditure from you. The military contingent is supported by the systems army. There is no need to worry about feeding half a million extra mouths. Isn't that right, Colonel Ameron?"
Nora had practically forgotten that there was another subject in the office besides her and the Jedi. And, it must be admitted—a rather striking one.
Over two meters tall, the man was clad in armor made of red metal (while ordinary soldiers wore plain chrome) that gleamed in the artificial light over a matte black jumpsuit. He wore no helmet, so his masculine face, devoid of any facial hair, could be seen in full detail. Brown-eyed, with stern features, a strong muscular neck, and a square jaw, he gave the impression of a self-assured and uncompromising killer who could slaughter the inhabitants of an entire settlement for breakfast and then, without leaving the scene of the crime, drink a caf.
Nora had encountered this type of man more than once—Rothana's security service was full of such subjects. But they were undeniably inferior to the colonel in size. And his heavy, oppressive gaze made everything inside the girl that could contract, do so.
"That is correct, General Secura," a low bass rumbled through the office. The man, standing behind his commander, did not make the slightest movement. Nora was nearly overcome with a shudder of disgust. It felt as if this man was on a short leash held by the Alien. How revolting.
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to share your plans for Rothana, Colonel?" the head of the corporation inquired bitingly.
The man, literally pinning her to the back of her chair with his gaze, approached the desk and placed a small holoprojector on its surface.
"Admiral Zaarin's fleet is only just being assembled on Christophsis and will not arrive at Rothana for at least a week. This time is sufficient for my eleven corps to secure Rothana's key positions and strategic nodes," the colonel said.
Nora's eyes widened. They were doing what...?
"We will deploy four corps for the defense of the orbital shipyards—roughly a legion on each. Also, our people will take control of the Golan defense platforms. This will allow us to respond promptly to invasion attempts," the Christophsian continued. "Three corps will handle the security of the mines, ore-refining plants, smelting shops, and other industrial facilities. Two more will be directly involved in guarding the ground vehicle assembly shops. The last two corps will guard the administrative and residential buildings. Director," he looked at the native of Kuat. "Warn your subordinates that as of today, hyperspace stations and other communication centers will be under the control of my people..."
"But...!"
"I haven't finished," the man interrupted her. "We are also taking over surface patrol functions, the installation of anti-ship artillery, planetary shield generators..."
"The planetary security forces handle that!"
"While we are on Rothana—your corporate soldiers will perform only police functions and maintain order, nothing more," Romulus cut her off. "The defense of the system is henceforth our task. And any contact with the outer world—only upon receiving appropriate permission from me personally or from my deputies."
"And what about the corporate fleet?" the girl asked in bewilderment. Her head was a mess. How did the management of Kuat Drive Yards agree to this? It was one thing to reorient the work of the entire RHE to the needs of specific systems armies—those closest to Rothana—and quite another to allow outsiders direct control over the defense capabilities of an important strategic world!
"Until the arrival of Admiral Zaarin and his fleet, their task remains the same," Secura joined in. "Then they can withdraw their ships to long-term parking areas and stay out of the way."
"This is madness!" Nora cried out. "You are effectively occupying our planet!"
"We are carrying out the orders of our leadership," the colonel noted coldly.
"You don't think Grand Moff Dougan decided to seize your planet under the nose of the entire galaxy, do you?" the mockery in the Jedi's voice was too obvious.
"You could try," Nora snorted. "Our second-generation Mandators will blow any invasion fleet to dust."
The jab she directed at the Jedi had every reason for its existence.
The Mandator-class Star Dreadnought had been realized in metal about two decades before the start of the current war. There were only seven of them in the galaxy—even Kuat couldn't afford more, despite its almost limitless financial resources. For the first time in a thousand years, the Naval Academy on Anaxis—the forge of the Republic fleet's personnel—had assigned a combat ship the class of "dreadnought," which hadn't happened in the past millennium.
The massive starship, clad from bow to stern in heavy armor that even state-of-the-art turbolasers couldn't penetrate, though slow on sublight engines and not particularly agile in hyperspace, was ideal for protecting the company's assets. Superbly armed, it caused quite a stir in the galaxy as soon as the first ship of the series left the slips. The Trade Federation was seething with bile—after all, its own Lucrehulk-class battleships could no longer stand against such a ship. Nor could any starship in the galaxy—to be perfectly honest. It was a major scandal. Especially when the existence of seven such giants became known. The matter was hushed up only after numerous bribes to senators and promises from the company's management that these ships would be used exclusively for the defense of Kuat's property: three in the Kuat sector itself and one each in the Azur, Ixtlar, Alsakan, and Humbarine sectors, where the company had interests. Unfortunately, only four such ships have survived to the present day. The Humbarine dreadnought was destroyed during a devastating attack on that sector by General Grievous's armada, after whose invasion not even living witnesses remained. The ships from the Azur and Alsakan sectors participated in the blockade of Foerost and were seriously damaged during endless battles. Kuat profited handsomely from the loss of these ships—it's no wonder that after the loss of three ships, they offered the Republic to continue maintaining the siege with the help of the last Mandator from the Ixtlar sector—in exchange for generous tips. No one offered the Republic any more star monsters—because forces were also needed to protect Kuat.
Furthermore, it was necessary to restore the invincible power of Kuat itself.
That is why Rothana Heavy Engineering received an order to create a new version of this ship.
The Mandator II-class Star Dreadnought that replaced them had even heavier armor, improved weaponry, and an advanced hyperdrive. It became faster than its predecessor, and the updated armoring and defense systems turned it into a dangerous opponent. Now even the super-heavy turbolasers used to arm the Republic's new projects—Predator-class starfighters—were not the greatest threat to it. And not at all because it had hundreds of such installations in its own arsenal. Its massive hull could withstand any enemy attack—that is, if the enemy managed to penetrate its deflectors, whose power could be envied by any ground-based reflecting screens produced by the CIS.
The Mandator II-class dreadnought is the future guarantee of Kuat Drive Yards' power. So far, only two of them existed—and both in a relatively completed state—it would take months to finish all the work. But even now, these monsters guarded the treasure in the brilliant crown of Kuat Drive Yards—the Rothana system. Any opponent who comes here will be crushed like a parasite.
The exception, of course, was the new dreadnoughts of the Confederacy itself. The appearance of the Malevolence on the galactic stage shook the minds of the Rothana Heavy Engineering board, forcing them to spend giant sums on the completion of both of their own dreadnoughts. The ease with which this ship and the fleet following it dealt with the Mandator in the Humbarine sector shocked everyone without exception. The eight-kilometer Kuat dreadnought perished, struck down by the enemy's ion main battery, which was smaller in size. The Kuat people received the destruction of General Grievous's flagship with relief—it was possible to cut the budgets for the completion of the Mandator IIs, which had been inflated to exorbitant levels. And as soon as this was done, it turned out that the separatists had a sister ship of the late Malevolence—the Sovereign. Granted, without the ion cannon capable of disabling entire squadrons, but still fully armed with heavy turbolasers. A battle between such giants could last for hours, if not days. Therefore, Kuat once again opened a credit line for the completion of its own star dreadnoughts. No one had any doubt that if the unthinkable happened and the Sovereign appeared in the Rothana system, the two giants, no matter what superiority in the number of guns the separatist starship possessed, would be able to stop it. For the same reason, Kuat kept three first-generation dreadnoughts.
What is there to say about the possible threat from two hundred Hammerheads? Yes, their combined power would be enough to bring down the shields, but by that point, their numbers would have decreased so significantly that they certainly wouldn't be able to cause irreparable harm to the mastodons.
Not having received a response from the Jedi and the Christophsian, the girl sighed and inquired:
"Is that all?"
"For me, yes," the colonel stated. Nodding instead of giving a military salute, the man, grabbing the holoprojector on which he had demonstrated the future basing locations of his subordinates, silently left the office. Nora watched his lean and muscular (and even armor cannot hide an abundance of muscle) figure leave, then turned her gaze to the Jedi.
"Anything else, Knight Secura?"
A light smile played on the Twi'lek's lips, and merry sparks danced in her eyes.
"Of course," she smirked, taking an information crystal from her clothing. Though, it would seem, where were the pockets in her outfit? There was only enough clothing there to cover her shame.
Accepting the data storage from the Jedi, the girl immediately inserted it into her computer. Some diagrams and blueprints ran across the screen...
"Excuse me, but what is this?" Nora frowned. Instead of an answer, a diagram of a starship appeared on the screen. Triangular in shape, with a low-slung superstructure in the stern and a bow section split in two. A hemisphere peeked out from under the hull, very reminiscent of Raith Sienar's solar ionization generator—at least those models of it that were known thanks to the ubiquitous Kuat industrial spies.
"Blueprints for a new combat ship that Rothana is to build for the tenth systems army," the Jedi girl stated.
"I thought I was familiar with all types of ships our company produces for the Grand Army of the Republic," Nora said puzzledly, quickly scanning the ship's technical specifications. Even a quick glance at the diagrams made it clear that the new starship, though inferior in size to the Venator and especially the Predator, had an incomparably greater number of guns. There were more than thirty twin turbolaser towers alone, grouped into batteries of four installations. Their clever placement, in a slight offset relative to the destroyer's sides, allowed all the main battery guns to fire at an enemy on course. And that was not counting the single turbolaser guns with which both sides were peppered. Overwhelming anti-aircraft armament, quite spacious hangars...
A case where the creator fully realized the triangular ship shape traditional for Galactic Republic capital ships for maximum target destruction efficiency. Coupled with anti-aircraft cover and a spacious air wing, this combat starship was a head above the Venators, not to mention the Acclamators. And the girl was plagued by vague doubts as to whether a worthy competition from the Predators had been developed on Kuat...
"This ship was not developed on Kuat," Aayla replied.
"Yes, I see," Nora responded. "Raith Sienar's characteristic creative approach is hard to ignore. And his solar ionization generator, used as the main power source, speaks for itself. However, I see that part of the diagrams has been removed. The ship lacks a central computer..."
"Take my word for it—it's there," Aayla smirked. "It's just that it will be installed elsewhere. Your task is to begin production of these ships instead of Venators and Predators."
"I have some idea, of course, that the tenth systems army is peculiar in matters of equipment procurement," Nora said slowly. "But to produce ships without any prototypes..."
"Don't worry, prototypes have already been manufactured and have proven themselves perfectly. Are there any problems with fulfilling this order?"
"I don't see any particular difficulties," Nora shrugged. "But such ships will cost more than Venators and even Predators. In the quantities you are requesting, we can, of course, build these..." she checked the ship's name on the computer monitor, "Harrowers. However, the sums Ghent will have to pay for the construction are simply enormous... excuse me, but I'm not sure even the Jedi Order has such reserves of credits."
"By a happy coincidence," the Twi'lek smiled enchantingly, "Ghent has access to a numbered account opened many years ago at Kuat Drive Yards."
"I highly doubt that," the girl smiled. "A stupid joke. Especially coming from a Jedi," Nora thought, entering the numbered account details dictated by Secura into the computer as the source of payment for this strange order. Numbered accounts were used many hundreds of years ago by small shareholders. Now, when most shares are distributed among specific individuals—including the Jedi Order being one of the shareholders—such an approach was not used.
Yes, the account was very ancient. Since then, Kuat's programs had changed hundreds of times. But the computer obediently accepted the request for the balance status. A simple procedure—if the client doesn't have the money to pay for a long-term contract immediately, then the conversation with them will be completely different.
The Jedi, for her part, confirmed the operation, allowing Nora to find out...
The native of Kuat felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead.
"As you can see, judging by the number of zeros on the account," Aayla Secura said slowly, "Grand Moff Dougan can buy not only the fleet we need, but also Rothana Heavy Engineering along with all the technical personnel. And you, as well."
"Y-yes..." her throat tightened from the tension. What a bottomless pit of money! Forget RHE! With these funds, one could buy out half of Kuat's shares! And hundreds of generations would live in luxury! "I... I will inform the shipyards to immediately clear the slips of the hulls of the Venators and Predators being built there."
"If you would be so kind," Aayla smiled.
***
"And why me?" Ahsoka grimaced as if she had eaten a sour fruit. "I don't need this at all."
"That's what Rick said," Oli shrugged. "If you want, you can contact him and tell him everything you think about this idea."
"What makes you think I have a direct line to him?" Ahsoka inquired in bewilderment.
"Hm, I thought he kept his women on a short leash," the girl cast a bored glance at the Togruta, hungrily biting off a piece of pika—a very common fruit. Alcohol was made from it—at least, several younglings had been expelled from the Temple for such experiments.
"You're never going to let me forget this for the rest of my life, are you?" Tano inquired with a sigh.
"Pre-cisely," the Emperor's apprentice mumbled with her mouth full, working her jaws diligently. "Don't touch what belongs to someone else..."
"At least you're not trying to fry me with Lightning anymore," the Togruta complained, rubbing her buttock. Which Oli had "accidentally" hit during the sweep on Hypori, invigorating her former friend who had grown despondent from the endless hacking of droids.
It was a good thing that with Dougan's departure, they didn't have to rot on Hypori—the "female-Twi'lek team" remained to finish off the separatists and hunt for Grievous (few believed he had died after the orbital bombardment of his base—at least, the Grand Moff forbade thinking so until every single piece of his body was found)—the 178th Reconnaissance Corps of Knight Xiaan Amersu, the 190th Assault Corps of Master B'ink Utrila and her padawan Rennax Omani, and the 212th Reconnaissance Corps under the command of Racha Sitra. Larant Tarak was the most diligent on the surface—after all, essentially it was her oversight that led to heavy losses in ships and manpower. It was no wonder the "gray paladin" was trying to finish what she started, no matter what. In an attempt to redeem herself in the eyes of the management, which was Grand Moff Dougan.
At first, Aayla Secura had been crushing droids on the planet along with them, but Dougan had sent her somewhere on a separate assignment, while the 327th Star Corps, considerably thinned out, along with the 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th corps were transferred to Christophsis—to recover their strength after the bloody meat grinder. Ahsoka and Oli returned with them to the 10th systems army headquarters. And, as Dougan's adjutant, the red-haired Mara, reported—there were separate assignments for each of the girls.
Oli was sent straight to the Citadel to Master Fay—to continue her training.
But Ahsoka...
"I'm just on a break," Oli reported. "And Master Fay explained that it's irrational to waste her power to get rid of a pest like you."
"Very funny," Ahsoka grumbled. The girls were standing on a balcony of the Citadel, overlooking one of the inner courtyards. And they watched those scurrying below—in a luxurious garden of ch'ala trees, a numerous pack of children was running wild. Set apart from them sat several young sentients, dressed in traditional Jedi clothing. "I can't even imagine why I should have to deal with these children."
"Maybe the Emperor is fostering a maternal instinct in you?" Oli laughed.
"Very funny," Ahsoka repeated. Rummaging through her memory, she added:
"I don't recall any cases of half-breeds appearing from a union of humans and Togrutas... You were Jocasta's padawan, you should know..."
"I know. But I won't tell. I'm off to..."
-ignore? They'll shoot us in the back the moment we engage Kirvan.
"We'll take them out. Silently," I sent through the Meld.
I didn't need to issue detailed orders. The Daisheads moved like shadows of death, their massive forms surprisingly graceful as they bypassed the sensors' cones of vision. Hexid and Kaili fanned out, lightsabers unlit but ready.
Using the Force, I reached out to the central processing clusters of the B2 units. I didn't try to shut them down—that would trigger a diagnostic alert. Instead, I created a localized "blind spot" in their tactical net. To the droids, the corridor remained empty. To us, they were merely target practice.
In a synchronized burst of telekinetic power, we crushed their internal circuitry. No sparks, no clatter of falling metal. We caught them as they slumped, propping the deactivated husks against the bulkheads to maintain the illusion of a standing guard.
"Clear," I signaled.
We reached the final blast door. Beyond it lay the command bridge. The aura of the Dark Side was now a physical weight, thick with the scent of ozone and old blood. Kirvan was there, radiating a smug, oily confidence. And Adi Gallia... her presence was flickering, like a candle in a gale.
I signaled the team to hold. I needed to see the layout before we committed. Slipping into a deep Force-trance, I projected my consciousness through the cracks in the door's seal.
The bridge of the Sovereign was a cathedral of technology and terror. In the center, on a raised dais, stood Baron Nax Kirvan. He looked different—older, his skin etched with the grey veins of Dark Side corruption. He was clad in ornate, blackened armor that seemed to swallow the light.
In front of him, suspended in a stasis field, was Adi Gallia. Her Tolothian headdress was gone, her robes torn. She was conscious, but barely.
But it wasn't Kirvan or Adi that caught my attention. It was the "organic" crew I had sensed earlier.
They weren't mercenaries. They weren't technicians.
They were warriors clad in Mandalorian-style armor, but the markings were wrong. They bore the sigil of a stylized, weeping eye. And their presence in the Force... it was cold. Not the burning rage of a Sith, but a hollow, artificial void.
"Shadow Guards," I whispered to myself. Or something very much like them. Palpatine had been busy.
Kirvan turned toward the door, a cruel smile spreading across his face. He didn't see me, but he felt the ripple in the Force.
"Come now, Grand Moff," his voice boomed, amplified by the bridge's acoustics. "I know you're there. Don't keep the Lady Gallia waiting. She has been so... vocal... about her desire to see you."
I pulled my consciousness back and looked at my team. Khem Val bared his teeth, his claws extending. Hexid's eyes glowed with a predatory yellow light.
"Change of plans," I said aloud, my voice dropping into the cold register of the Emperor's Hand. "We don't just go in. We level the place. Khem, Ak'ghal—you take the guards. Hexid, Kaili—get Adi out. Kirvan is mine."
I gripped the hilt of my lightsaber. The time for shadows was over.
"Open it."
The blast doors didn't just slide open; they were torn from their tracks by a combined telekinetic shove that sent them flying into the bridge like oversized shrapnel.
We stepped through the smoke, the crimson blades of our sabers igniting in a chorus of lethal hisses.
"Kirvan," I said, my voice cutting through the alarms. "I believe you have something that belongs to the Republic."
The Baron laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "The Republic is a corpse, Dogan. I am merely harvesting the organs."
He ignited his own blade—a stable, deep purple that spoke of a mastery over the balance of the Dark Side.
"Kill them," Kirvan commanded his guards. "But leave the Grand Moff for me. I want to see the light leave his eyes personally."
The bridge erupted into chaos. Khem Val let out a roar that shook the deckplates, leaping into the fray with the hunger of a thousand years. The battle for the Sovereign had truly begun.
It's getting more expensive if everything doesn't go according to plan. And as usual, that's exactly how it will go.
"Khem, Ak'ghal—stay here," I ordered. The gray-skinned Dashade, grumbling for the sake of propriety, obediently separated from the squad. His impatience to deal with the enemy literally rolled off him in waves. But there was nothing to be done—an order is an order. Ak'ghal understood this without words, calling his impatient brother to calm in total silence.
Returning back, I touched the comlink.
"Little Brother," the astromech beeped quietly in response. "We need an alternative route."
The mechanic was silent for a second, after which the gauntlet flashed, receiving updated data. Projecting a miniature hologram, I carefully studied the proposed path. Well, maybe we'll get lucky this time.
The squad, obeying a mental command, moved after me.
The only alternative to the compromised path (not counting a march through the "front gates," naturally) was to go back a bit, descend a level lower, and then use a technical tunnel for service droids. However, even in this case, we weren't guaranteed to avoid a joyful meeting with battle droids—no matter how hard Little Brother tried, he couldn't track the movement of all enemy combatants. The dreadnought's surveillance system was undergoing service maintenance. For some damn reason.
Or, it had been disabled on purpose—because turning it on without the bridge finding out about our antics was impossible. Hmm, it seems the Seps updated the security system too. They're getting smarter right before my eyes, the devils.
Reaching the coveted hatch, we slipped into it one by one.
A descent, a short crawl through a not-so-wide tunnel, and an exhausting climb up. And all of this in terrible tightness. Even Master Yoda in Episode III was more comfortable during his escape from the Senate.
Finally, the passage widened, joining several others in a place large enough for the three of us to stand. Right, a collector between decks, from where droids reached various ends of the level where the bridge was located.
The guiding fire of Baron Kirvan's rage suggested that the Baron was located fifty meters ahead and to the right. It seemed we had bypassed the bridge from below and come out on the opposite side from the original entry point. Only this time, we weren't between "buffer" levels, but in rooms directly adjacent to the bridge. If the map was to be believed, auxiliary systems were located here... Excellent.
Opening the exit hatch slightly, I noticed several B-1s positioned near control terminals. The droids were stupidly tracking readings on monitors, occasionally entering into short conversations with each other. It took a few minutes to understand exactly what this room was responsible for.
Duplicate control systems for bulkheads, fire doors, gravity, and other things upon which the crew's comfort depended. Although... what comfort do droids need? Even air on such starships, where the crew is droids, is an unnecessary luxury. I remember reading an explanatory document from Republic Command on this matter. The gist was that some time ago, a bill was passed prohibiting the use of starships without an atmosphere suitable for the breathing of most sentients in the galaxy. Strangely enough, the Trade Federation and Techno Union lobbies couldn't defeat this initiative—despite their obsession with robotic crews. So they had to build starships with systems unnecessary for them. Of course, after leaving the Republic, the need for such things vanished, but as it turned out, droids aren't the most productive commanders. Therefore, organic commanders began to appear on the bridges. Who, naturally, needed an atmosphere.
It turned out to be a closed circle—when they wanted to dismantle the atmosphere generators, they couldn't; when they could, it no longer worked out. It seems life punishes more than just me in this galaxy at every convenient opportunity.
The door to the room opened, and another droid walked in. As I managed to see, there were no droid squads behind him. On the contrary, several familiar elements of the bridge from my memory came into view. Which meant the way was clear. Only, we'd still have to break through with a fight. Well, it happens. Especially since we've already lost a ton of time—no time to come up with something new. About twenty minutes remained until the time Kirvan could fulfill his threat and kill Adi.
"Let's go," I commanded quietly. Both girls nodded affirmatively. So, they were ready for what was coming. If only the Concealment on Kaili would hold. The girl herself didn't possess such skills, so I had to hide her from detection. Hexid, though an extremely experienced Force adept, could only hide herself from detection, but repeating my trick with another living being was beyond her.
Therefore, I would have to deal with the enemy myself. There was no need to show my cards to the opponent prematurely by demonstrating that I wasn't here alone. Let it be a big surprise.
Using the Force, I blew out the hatch, which, like a cannonball, crumpled a couple of B-1s standing in the way and slammed them into the door control panel. The remaining five droids looked with surprise as a figure in a black robe burst out of the service tunnel. A moment—and the lightsaber came to life in my hand.
"Uh-h-h," the nearest droid drawled, turning to his comrades. "Do we even have repairmen like that?"
He didn't hear the answer. The energy blade cut him to pieces, after which I sliced through the first one who managed to raise a weapon at me and spun in place, cutting another through the waist. The other two, noticing they were outnumbered, tried to flee through the door, but the golden blade cut them both down in flight.
Alarm buzzers wailed. Well, look at that, they woke up.
Little Brother shrieked into the comlink, reporting that he was cut off from the ship's systems.
"Everything's fine, proceed according to plan," I don't know if my answer reached him, as only a ripple of static came from the device's speaker. Right, so they're jamming communications too.
Giving both girls a hand signal to stay behind me, without much ceremony, I blew out the door leading to the bridge using the Force and roared:
"Kirvan! Where are you, bilious scum? I've come."
***
A smile, more like a predator's snarl, cut across the Baron's lips. The shout with which the Jedi had brought him out of meditation was a call to battle. To a ruthless slaughter. To murder and violence—the most beautiful things a Sith could ever desire. Especially when your opponent is a Jedi.
Not a mediocre pale one, of which he had already killed many. Not Master Yoda with his sugary but lying speeches designed to cloud the brain and deceive one's own essence. A feigned aura of wisdom, behind which only complete ignorance was hysterically hidden. And fear of the new.
But a true warrior. A killer by nature.
"You came after all," the Baron exulted, seeing that the man clad in plate armor, barely appearing on the bridge, instantly finished off the nearest droids as soon as they turned their attention to him. Not a bad opening.
"Well, you called me," Dougan shrugged. "Screeching like a young girl at the sight of a new gadget. How could I miss such a thing? You look like crap, Adi."
The Tolothian, whose face bore traces of recent beatings and torture, could not answer him. Suspended in a vertical position not far from where the Baron had been meditating, the Master evoked sympathy even by her appearance. Once beautiful and full of life, she now hung like a sack of meat. Who didn't have much longer—if she didn't die from internal organ ruptures, she would still face death at the end of the duel. A long and painful one. No wonder, since Kirvan had more than half a standard day to satisfy his corrosive sense of revenge. And he knew how to cause pain to others. And he desired to do it endlessly.
"She suffered the whole time you were getting here," the former Jedi revealed. "By the way, you managed it faster than I expected. Another of your tricks?"
"And you thought I'd go up against a tank with a bare ass?" the Jedi chuckled. He didn't take his eyes off the bridge crew—two dozen droids who, obeying the Baron's order, were not to interfere in the upcoming battle. There was no point to them anyway. "No, Nax, I'm not as much of an idiot as you. Dragging me onto your overgrown tub just to get your ass kicked... Yeah, to be such an idiot takes long practice."
"Dun Möch won't work on me, Jedi," Nax smirked. "Using the Sith's weapon against a Sith is idiocy."
"You, dimwit, should give me a lecture too."
Behind the Jedi's back, the door leaves slid open. A squad of super droids had barely appeared in the doorway when the Jedi knocked them back into the corridor with a powerful Force Push. Then, without even looking back, he threw his lightsaber, destroying the door unlocking mechanism. With a monstrous clang, the leaves closed. And following them, a blast-resistant durasteel plate descended, cutting off the bridge from the rest of the ship. "What, afraid to face me one-on-one? Or are you already at an age where you can't handle it yourself without outside help?"
Kirvan burst out laughing, catching the double meaning of what was said.
"Every time the subject turns to you, Dougan, I come to the conclusion that there isn't such a big difference between us," the Baron said. "We are both ruthless killers. I kill hypocritical Jedi, you kill pathetic imitations of Sith..."
"Comparing a dick to a carrot," the Jedi smirked. "Stop the sophistry, I'm not here for that."
"Ah, right," Nax laughed. "You flew here as a loyal dog of the Senate and the Order to save one of your own..."
"Said the one who was ordered to lure me here so I wouldn't take your crazy cyborg apart for spares," the Jedi said sarcastically. Strange thing, but since his appearance, he hadn't moved a meter from the spot where he stood at the very beginning. Although usually Jedi sought to close with the enemy—all their strength was precisely in contact combat, due to the lack of Force techniques capable of striking an opponent at a distance. "You should shut up, Dooku's doormat."
"How pathetic you are," Nax sighed. No, his aristocratic pride would not allow him to continue the conversation with an outright boor and scum, which the one the whole galaxy praised turned out to be. Unhooking his weapon from his belt, he gave a barely noticeable nod to the OOM droid acting as the captain of the Sovereign. "It's time to put an end to our protracted confrontation."
"We can make it simpler," the Jedi suddenly said. "Give me Adi, and you can clear off to all four corners."
"A good offer," Kirvan clicked his tongue, casting a glance at the luxurious captain's chair, its back turned to the Jedi. The trap in which Adi dangled was positioned exactly so that she could be struck without getting up from the chair. "But it will give me much more pleasure to deal with you than to make a deal. Although... you can save Adi's life if you join us and become Count Dooku's apprentice..."
"Are you kidding me?" the Jedi chuckled. "I hate you imbeciles so much that when I see you, I can't even eat."
"The worse for you," the former Jedi stated. This was a code phrase.
The chair turned, bringing a new participant into the action.
"I think I'll sharpen my teeth on this Jedi's bones," said a giant clad from head to toe in Mandalorian armor. "But first—I'll tear him to pieces."
"May I drink only birch sap with pulp!" notes of surprise radiated by Dougan ran through the Force. However, it couldn't be said that he was greatly surprised. "Durge, you immortal face, you're after my soul too? I thought you croaked in the Karthakk sector."
"You Jedi can't finish anything," the Gen'dai said tiredly. "Even killing your arch-enemy."
"Your voice sounds tired," Dougan said cheerfully. "Exhausted from working supporting roles?"
"Since my resurrection, I've grown tired of the monotonous killing of stupid Jedi," Durge revealed. "It doesn't bring the former pleasure. All is vanity... Now, crushing the skulls of Mandalorian outcasts—that's something else. And disemboweling you."
Nax smiled stealthily.
Durge was a renowned mercenary who had lived for hundreds of years. And every day of his life he dedicated to the destruction of sentients. He especially liked to exterminate Jedi and Mandalorians, for whom he felt an almost religious hatred. The reason for this, according to Count Dooku, who had assigned the mercenary to him during the hunt for Dougan, lay in the Gen'dai's past. Which the Baron did not wish to know. And what the Hutt difference did it make? The Count had provided every opportunity to get rid of this Jedi once and for all. And if he had to use someone's help—so be it. Durge would wear Dougan out—he was a specialist in that. And the death blow would still be delivered by Nax.
He didn't intend to trust Durge. After his miraculous rescue and long recovery, he seemed reborn. He became less insane. Which was terribly irritating.
"You know," the Jedi addressed the mercenary. "If wine has stopped warming you, food has the taste of decay in your mouth, and even all the harlots in the world can't quench the fire tormenting you from within—then there are only two options. You either stole cursed Aztec gold, or you caught COVID. In my opinion, both options are so-so."
"You're talking nonsense, Jedi," Durge rose to his feet. A huge vibro-knife flashed in his hands. "I've met people like you. You wear one out with your tedious speeches until one wants to sleep. But one should fight for life and death!"
"I prefer to fuck like I'm fighting for my life," the Jedi answered simply.
"Another word-monger," Durge pronounced. Then, without much of a wind-up, he plunged his cleaver into the torso of the beaten Adi Gallia. The girl, who was unconscious, didn't even wake up from the fatal wound. "I hope this makes you stop wagging your tongue."
"You really shouldn't have done that, bitch," the Jedi hissed, raising his blade over his right shoulder.
"What can you do, Jedi scum," Durge shrugged, wiping the blood from the blade on the dying woman's robe. "A vibro-knife to the liver—even a Jedi isn't forever."
Kirvan watched with curiosity as Dougan easily parried the blaster shots the mercenary aimed at him. He very keenly caught the moment when the Jedi was about to rush into an attack and forced him to switch to defense. And all for the sake of another surprise...
The deck beneath the feet of those present jerked, marking the dreadnought's transition into hyperspace. Dougan lost concentration for a moment, and a couple of blaster bolts bit into his chestplate. Which, unfortunately, held.
"Now no one will help you, Jedi," Nax smirked, rushing toward his target.
Simultaneously with these words, the door leaves behind Dougan's back flew apart, and battle droids flooded onto the bridge.
***
A wave of hatred washed over every cell in Kaili's body. She shuddered, experiencing through the Force the fury into which Dougan had easily slipped. Staying behind his back, she, seizing the moment, dove like a fish toward one of the consoles.
Hexid, not being subtle, tore off her disguise, entering into a confrontation with the battle machines. Meanwhile, the Emperor, possessed by the rage of battle, like a hurricane, crossed his blades with the enemy commander. The huge mercenary at this time, not seeking to approach them, showered his victim with blaster fire, laughing loudly.
"So he's not alone!" the giant's laughter echoed. "Now the fun begins!"
Participating in the battle was not her task. The girl, although she had a very decent level of lightsaber proficiency, even after XoXaan's instructions, did not consider herself a professional fighter. Her task was healing.
And that was exactly what she had to do now.
Trying not to be seen, she disrupted the operation of the device holding Adi with a short lightsaber thrust. The barely alive Jedi fell to the floor like a sack, after which, without much ceremony, Kaili dragged the Tolothian by the legs to the side—away from the bacchanalia.
Hiding behind a massive terminal, she leaned the dying woman's back against the base of the console, opening herself to the Force.
Things were frankly bad for Master Gallia.
The mercenary, whom the Emperor called Durge, clearly had an understanding of this race's anatomy. Because he had managed to damage almost all vital organs. He did everything so that Adi would die slowly and extremely painfully.
However, the Master was unconscious—this was what saved her from instant death at the moment of the vibro-knife strike. And the fact that a spark of life still burned in her spoke in favor of the fact that all was not yet lost. But she had to hurry.
Under other circumstances, had the situation not been so critical, Kaili would have preferred to put the girl in stasis, fortunately Xo had taught her this technique. But then there wouldn't even be a chance the Tolothian would survive. Hutt, even leaving the battlefield meant losing precious seconds.
The girl placed her hands on the wound on the side, rapidly igniting the coals of rage within herself. Only Dark Side techniques could save the Master—Jedi healing is, of course, stronger, but not in moments when every second counts.
Fortunately, there were enough boiling emotions in the space from which she could draw the Force. Rage and malice, the anticipation of murder... it's scary to think that it was from this that she drew the energy necessary to make the regenerative abilities of the half-dead body work with new strength.
Praise the Force that Adi's brain and heart were still alive. Because even XoXaan didn't know how to resurrect the dead.
Kaili, frozen in one pose over the body of the wounded woman, served as a conduit for the Force, sucking it from the participants of the battle. Emotions fed her, allowing her to concentrate on the damaged organs, restoring their integrity almost at a molecular level.
She couldn't remember the exact name of this technique in the heat of events. The healer pumped the Force into the body, which with every moment became further from death. The edges of the severed kidney grew together, the liver, divided into two parts, joined into one. The intestines with every moment threw less of their contents into the abdominal cavity...
There was no need to open her eyes to feel the progress. The Force told her that Adi's broken bones had begun to knit. Cracks and fractures disappeared before her eyes. The hole in the left lung, formed long before the knife strike, was closing, and after a couple of seconds, the young woman, still in a faint, took a deep breath. Without the wheezing and gurgling that was heard at the very beginning.
Shifting her left palm to Master Gallia's head, Kaili felt the subarachnoid hematoma pressing on the brain—another "greeting" from long torture. Streams of the Force poured into this part of the body as well, reducing the pressure, forcing the body to successfully wash away the accumulated blood, clearing the soft meninges...
Adi twitched barely noticeably. The spark of her life, which had barely smoldered, was now gaining strength, slowly but surely turning into a small fire. Kaili felt that with every second of the brain damage recovery, the Master's confused consciousness was becoming whole, gaining its familiar form... It would take very little time, and the Master would come to her senses...
With the edge of her consciousness, Omas caught a certain alarm in the Force. Immersed in it with her whole being, the girl was experiencing monstrous loads, letting a raging ocean of passions and emotions pass through her. Perhaps a warning from the Force. This was just a piece of the battle, which shouldn't be treated so closely...
"K... Kaili?" she heard a light whisper, full of amazement. The girl, opening her eyes slightly, looked with a smile at the patient who had regained consciousness.
"You're awake," the girl rejoiced. Removing her hands from the Master's body, she felt a slight dizziness. For the first time, she had the opportunity to apply her knowledge in practice. And in such a difficult case... Xo will be pleased... If only not for this unceasing sense of danger, driving her to dizziness... "Don't move, you're still weak, you need rest..."
The hissing sound of an activated lightsaber reached her ears. A very close sound. But, exhausted, she couldn't even move. Only the reflection of a crimson blade reflected in the whites of Master Gallia's eyes...
A short flash of pain.
And then darkness came.
***
Omas's death cut through the battle meld with pain. Like a wild scream, it invaded my consciousness, leading to a tooth-grinding screech.
And this second of weakness almost cost me my life.
The red blade of Kirvan's lightsaber, which had momentarily dropped out of sight, reappeared, leaving a deep furrow on the chestplate (what a piece of ancient junk... and I thought cortosis was forever). However, my body leaned away from the strike's trajectory at the last moment, after which my lightsaber blocked another lunge, and my armored fist, ducking under the former Jedi's block, broke his jaw with a characteristic crunch.
Nax recoiled, and in the same instant, a Force Push threw him aside—right into the thick of the battle Hexid was fighting. The Zabrak tried to get the Baron with one of her blades during his dizzying flight, but he rushed past so fast that she only separated a piece of his cloak from his clothes.
Ducking, I avoided the electric bolo that Durge was trying to whip around my neck. The pain of losing an ally gave me strength, so, unleashing all my fury on the armor-clad mercenary, I practically fried him inside his armor, so much so that smoke came from the joints. Disoriented, but not dead, the opponent followed his companion. It's not even worth trying to finish him off now—this scum is hardier than a cockroach. No brain, no vital organs. The whole body is independent nerve nodes capable of continuing to live even after separating one part of the body from another. Yes, he's dangerous, but now I was more interested in the bastard with the red sword who had appeared out of nowhere, carelessly kicking Kaili's decapitated corpse aside. He was dressed in armor vaguely resembling that of the clones—"Phase II," to be more precise. Only the Sith blade in his hands spoiled the whole comparison. Which he had already raised over Adi—even though I didn't see her, I couldn't be mistaken with the Force.
Rushing from the spot like a whirlwind, I knocked the bastard down like a ram, slamming my heel into his helmet. Let it not bring him much damage—only disoriented him. And even then for a moment.
In the next second, I already had to parry a brutal vertical strike from the crimson blade. The physical strength with which it was delivered was amazing. As was the fact that the opponent standing before me suddenly extinguished his blade and melted into the air.
"Rick, are you here?!" Adi gasped when I almost jerked her to her feet.
"You'll kiss me later," I snapped. Drawing Kaili's saber lying on the floor to me, I momentarily lingered my gaze on her peaceful but dead face. Her expression was such as if she were glad for what had happened. Hutt!
How could this be. So young...
"Who is that?" Gallia asked, referring to the recent killer.
"I have no idea," I grunted. The Force, oh, you treacherous bitch, remained stubbornly silent, despite the fact that I was jumping out of my skin trying to detect the assassin. But in vain. He knew how to perfectly mask himself not only visually, but literally wiped his presence in the Force. Just what kind of textbook coprophile has appeared on Palpatine and Co's side? Why don't I remember anything like this?
Meanwhile, Hexid, surrounding herself with a Barrier like a heavy tank, was holding back unceasing attacks. The droids, Kirvan, Durge—everyone without exception chose her as their target. But the girl, without much harm to herself, absorbed all their lunges.
Touching the comlink keys, I heard the same ripple of static. Then, casting a glance at the chronometer, I noted with grim satisfaction that only a few minutes remained.
"And you're full of surprises!" Kirvan shouted to me. Taking advantage of the fact that Hexid had gone into passive defense, he leaped over her, appearing before me. Lightsabers crossed, showering the bridge with a hail of sparks.
"You have no idea how many," I hissed through my teeth, going on the offensive.
Now I was ruled by white-hot rage. At myself, caught in the trap on Hypori. At Amidala and Tyrell, who appeared so inopportunely in the middle of the battle and whose presence did not allow me (for the sake of keeping my true abilities secret) to smear Grievous in a thin layer across the bridge. At Sidious, who so cleverly set up the trap involving an excellently trained killer whose appearance took the life of a young and beautiful girl.
I ran these thoughts through myself over and over, nurturing my own Dark Side. And it responded welcomingly to my call, making any Juyo movement several times more dangerous.
A simple double strike, up and then down, contained enough force to make the opponent's wrists and shoulders tremble, and almost deprive him of both hands. The flash of the sabers joined in a clinch was blinding. Kirvan retreated uncertainly and fell into the center of a telekinetic storm. Without standing on ceremony, I used his second of weakness and threw objects at him from all sides, hoping to weaken his vigilance this way. For a moment, it worked.
Then Kirvan straightened up and with a wave of his left hand pushed the objects away. He parried a ruthless strike capable of cutting him in half, and another that would have neatly removed the head from his shoulders. Ducking low, he attacked me with a treacherous lunge at the stomach, and then sharply jerked the saber up, hoping to catch the bottom of the mask with the end of his weapon and pierce the throat. The golden blade blocked the strike, but only partially. For a moment we separated for a short break, and cautiously circled each other.
"You're good," Kirvan said. "But you won't survive this meeting."
"I was going to say the same to you," I hissed. "Believe me, neither Durge nor this assassin of yours will help you..."
"A-a-h," Nax drawled, watching Adi out of the corner of his eye as she joined Hexid and was grinding the super droids into scrap metal. Moreover, both didn't forget to keep the rear under control from time to time. Who knows where else this bastard might crawl out from. "Did you like my little surprise? Jek-14 was sent personally by Darth Sidious for your soul."
Digging through my memory, I found nothing that even remotely resembled such a character. What is this—I don't remember everything about the universe? Or is this asshole something new?
"It'll take something more to finish me off," I said. The Force told me the moment, and dodging a treacherous strike from the side, I sent the killer flying with a kick, simultaneously slashing him across the back with my blade. "You, of all people, should have remembered this on Kamino. There's nowhere for you to run here."
"And I don't intend to," Kirvan chuckled. "I am perfectly aware that you can do much more than you demonstrate. So, my task is only to delay you until the ship arrives at the meeting point with Count Dooku."
"Oh, I'm scared," for some reason I felt like laughing. All this was started only so the Count could participate in the internal squabble? So he's not here? Chickened out, or is it beneath his dignity?
Repeating the question to the Baron, I received a biting chuckle from him. Along with a new series of crushing (in his opinion) strikes, each of which I parried, almost yawning.
"The Count entrusted your murder to me," he revealed. "Darth Sidious approved my plan. And the jump to Serenno is just insurance. Your death is first in my master's plans. And even if I lose, you still won't survive. There are hundreds of thousands of battle droids on board. Ten thousand perfectly trained mercenaries. And all have one single order—to destroy you if you emerge victorious from our duel."
"Clever," no, really clever. A plan within a plan, inside of which is another plan. "And did you even think about how many people I took with me?"
From the surprise that flashed on the Baron's face, I realized I had hit the mark. My blade easily pierced his defense, stabbing through the chestplate of his light armor near the navel. Tossing his saber aside, I approached the Sith clutching the hole in his gut and grabbed him by the hair.
"I'll let you in on a secret, bastard," I whispered, leaning over the Baron's ear. "Almost all the commandos in my army are on your dreadnought right now. Alphas, Nulls, Omega Squad, Delta Squad... And that's not to mention my Shadows, who recently finished having fun with the Jedi in one interesting place and gladly rushed here to board your toy along with the commandos. And while you and I were playing here, they've already taken control of all the key facilities of your damn ship—backup command posts, fire control centers, life support."
I twisted his head to the side, demonstrating that there were practically no B-2s left in the corridor, and there was no one left in the battle except Durge and the assassin who had come to his aid.
"Do you know why the flow of droids has dried up, even though you packed almost all the compartments with them? Because there are two ferocious Dashade there, slicing your tin cans like sardine cans. And by the time we arrive for the meeting with Dooku, the whole dreadnought will be in our power."
"Im... possible..." the Baron squeezed out.
"Very possible, idiot," I assured him. "All your droids and mercenaries—except the brainiest ones—have long been dangling in the vacuum thanks to the Nulls, who opened all the airlocks on the ship long ago, except for those in the superstructure. And your whole supposedly brilliant plan went under the bantha's tail. Но thanks for directing us exactly to the meeting with Count Dooku. I didn't manage to finish off Grievous," I grabbed Kirvan by the neck, lifting him over my head with a jerk, "so we'll settle accounts with Tyranus. And with the help of this vessel, we'll blow your whole top brass to hell."
"There... thousands of ships... they'll stop you," Kirvan wheezed. The fingers tightening on his throat prevented him from breathing. Through the Force, I felt him desperately calling upon the Dark Side. Well, try to prolong your existence, asshole!
"I don't give a damn!" I roared. "How I'm sick of you all! The idiotic Council!" The trachea under my fingers gave way with a disgusting crack. "You bastard outcasts of the Bane-style!" Blood sprayed from the torn throat, covering the mask's visor. "Lying democracy!" My fingers touched the spine. "I'll kill you all, scum."
Pulling Kirvan's torso down with my left hand, and with my right, grabbing the spine more comfortably, I jerked it up with all my might and Force, tearing it out of the body to the deafening crunch of breaking ribs and vertebrae.
And, almost immediately, as the spark of life went out in the Force...
Neither Kirvan nor his torso remained; a flare of the Dark Side had torn him apart, throwing me and everyone else present to the sides. What a bastard! Even in death, he managed to cause trouble! My visor is covered in blood!
Wiping the mask with blood-stained fingers, I looked at the trophy clutched in my hand.
"Well, damn..." I muttered at the sight of the spine, snapped at the shoulder level, with the head of my dim-witted potential assassin dangling indifferently at the top. Pity, I thought it would turn out like a Predator trophy. No luck. No fortune.
The unprecedented slaughter of the enemy slightly dampened my rage. Apathy washed over me—the constant companion of prolonged contact with the Dark Side. Watching Durge and the assassin, who had lost his right arm, scurry off the bridge, I smirked. Run, you bastards; you're on the same ship as us anyway. You've got nowhere to go!
"Sir!" Alpha's voice crackled through the comlink. "Do you hear me? We've restored communications!"
"Good job," I said casually. "Did you destroy the jammer?"
"Not exactly. There was some clever software crap here that locked down all systems except for bridge control. It triggered as soon as the alarm went off."
"Yeah, I recall something like that," I said, walking over to Adi and Hexid, who were sitting on the floor in a sea of debris, and helped them both to their feet. I nodded to the Dashade who appeared in the corridor, pointing toward the turbolift where Durge and the cripple were running. "Find them and finish them!"
"Can we eat them?" Khem scratched his belly.
"I don't care if you fuck them in the skull," I shrugged. The grinning pair bolted in pursuit. Turning back to the bridge, I pulled off my mask. I couldn't see anything through the blood-soaked visor anyway.
Surveying the bridge destroyed during the battle, I grunted, looking into the blackness of the panoramic panels.
"Any casualties?"
"Balda got shot," Alpha reported. "Nothing serious, they've patched him up already."
"Good to hear it went without problems," well, at least one day went according to plan. Almost, I added mentally, looking at the dead body. Kylie... Force, what a soulless bitch you are!
"Actually, there are problems," Kira's voice came through the comlink. "Have you looked out the viewport lately?"
"Just now," I raised my eyes to the massive transpari-steel panels again. "Space is space..."
"Except we're supposed to be in hyperspace," Celeste said slowly.
"What the...!?"
"Sir, it's likely our fault," Alpha said cautiously. "The jump was interrupted when we rebooted that strange program."
Taking a deep breath, I tried to summon all my self-control so as not to head to the central computer where Hurricane Team was working and strangle everyone there. Okay, stay calm, it's not all that bad...
"What is that?" Hexid said in surprise, drawing attention to a massive space object, clearly artificial in nature, which appeared out of nowhere in the dreadnought's line of sight.
Casting a weary glance at the object, I felt an acute need to sit down.
"My God," I exhaled. "You've got to be kidding me!"