The eight most powerful Force adepts on Zakuul—the capital of the Eternal Empire—now stood before him.
They felt neither rage nor serenity. They stood at attention before their immediate commander, each holding an opaque helmet in the crook of their elbow. Their eyes expressed nothing but a desire to serve a higher purpose—to serve the embodiment of the Empire, power, and knowledge of the Force, their Emperor.
Each of them, if they wished, could destroy the population of a small settlement or complete a task assigned to them without being seen by the enemy. Their hearts knew no mercy, no compassion, and the end always justified the means. Unless the opposite was sanctioned by the Emperor.
Each of them had walked their own path, based on varying degrees of ruthlessness, before donning the very uniform they were wearing now. And, despite everything, they all ended up here. They became better than their former selves. They became better than most gifted individuals in the galaxy.
However, Vicmar Bane, captain of the Imperial Guard, knew for a fact that none of his lieutenants, nor any of the guardsmen—both those standing before him and those in other parts of the galaxy—would ever use their knowledge and the Force to do anything that went against the designs of their Sovereign.
Such was the will of the Emperor—to link his mind with every guardsman, whose life from the moment of initiation until death was connected only to him. Any desires or impulses were secondary. The Emperor and the Empire were paramount.
Vicmar knew this because his own thoughts were subject to the Emperor just like the rest of the guardsmen. And this did not bother any of those clad in silver-white armor. And it never would. Right up until death.
Despite the opinion prevalent in Imperial society, they were not droids. They were living people and Aliens (though mostly humans) who ate, drank, slept, and had personal lives. In those rare moments when they took off their snow-white silver armor and became ordinary, unremarkable citizens of the Empire.
Standing before him now were the best representatives of the Imperial Guard. Among the people, their organization was also called the "White Guard"—because of the color of their armor.
The Emperor, when informed of this, found the popular initiative quite amusing.
Perhaps because within the structure of the Imperial Guard, there also existed the Black Guard. Perhaps for some reasons of his own.
Despite the fact that Vicmar held the post of commander of the entire Imperial Guard, which by duty gave him access to most of the Empire's secrets, even for him, the identity of the leader, the authorized strength, composition, and tasks of the Black Guard remained a mystery.
It was unknown whether they had any connection to the Sith cult that had joined the Order of Imperial Knights. Nothing was known about them at all. Except for the fact that they existed.
Giving an oath of loyalty to the Emperor, the Empire, and service to them, Vicmar, a former Jensaarai, clearly remembered the faces of those comrades—the first graduates of the Tython Academy who stood before the Emperor on the day of his appearance on Zakuul. And he was extremely surprised when he took command of the Imperial Guard and did not find many of his comrades in its ranks.
Instead, he was able to see gifted ones in black armor leaving the dungeons of the Citadel. Just before he underwent his own enhancement procedure. And after it was finished, he no longer cared. And, judging by the fact that the Emperor, whose voice he had heard many times since the initiation, had access to his thoughts and had not descended upon Bane with all sorts of punishments, the captain's silent keeping of the secret of the Black Guard's existence suited him perfectly.
But that was all lyricism. Vicmar did not doubt that the existence of the Black Guard was one of the Emperor's secrets. And those who know the truth will never voice their thoughts aloud. They will not share them with anyone. Because otherwise, the Emperor's voice in Vicmar's head would give the order to rid the galaxy of an excessively talkative sentient.
Despite his high position, Vicmar had furnished his office in a style of absolute minimalism. A large multifunctional desk, several shelves with books and data storage, a wardrobe, chairs. No external gloss, designer decor, banners, flags, or other paraphernalia.
Everyone entering the left wing of the Imperial Citadel on Zakuul knew where they were going—to the headquarters of the Imperial Guard. No signs or inscriptions were needed to navigate the Emperor's residence. Sentients who do not know the way to a particular room do not end up here.
Since all Citadels in the territory of the Eternal Empire were of the same type, it was no wonder that the regional branches of the guard were located in the same place everywhere. Only the sentients inside differed from each other—but to understand this fact, one first had to at least remove the helmet from a guardsman. Living sentients had not yet succeeded in this. Dead ones even less so.
"Communication with the Emperor has been interrupted," he announced, carefully watching the reaction of his lieutenants.
At the moment, the Guard had only ten lieutenants—commanders of guard units stationed in various parts of the galaxy. All of them had gathered on Zakuul at this troubling moment not for idle business. Each of the lieutenants was performing their own task, and they had reasons to be in the capital.
"You all felt it," he continued. "As did your subordinates. The rumors of his death are an outright lie. Continue to do your work as before. Any incidents among your subordinates during a prolonged absence of communication with the Emperor must be immediately suppressed. Is that clear?"
The last question didn't have much meaning—a guardsman didn't need anything clarified. He understood everything regardless of the rank he held. Regardless of the task he performed.
But even the initiation process—manipulations carried out personally by the Emperor in the depths of the Citadel—cannot rid one of the habits of the past. That would have to be worked on. Over time, unnecessary traits of humanity would fade away—along with most feelings. So the Emperor promised.
"Now I await your reports," Bane folded his hands on the desk, looking at his subordinates.
Unlike the Emperor, he did not possess the ability to establish a mental link with the guardsmen across space, whispering orders through parsecs. While on Zakuul, Bane could still invisibly contact the guardsmen, to communicate beyond the capital world, he had to resort to simple methods of encrypted communication.
But on this day, the Force willed that the lieutenants report in person. So be it.
Vicmar gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement.
The primary task of the guard was the protection and defense of the Emperor. And even if he could stand up for himself, this task was not debated.
Vicmar Bane's people were also involved in guarding top-secret and especially important Imperial facilities. Along with this, the Emperor also required his guardsmen to identify gifted individuals in the territories under their control. Who then had only two paths—to go to the Academy on Tython and, after completing their training, join the Order of Imperial Knights. Or... never use the Force again.
"All is quiet on Zakuul," Lieutenant Sabre said in a steady, emotionless tone. They had once followed Lady Atroxa together. They had grasped knowledge of the Dark and Light sides on a scale that no Jedi had ever dreamed of. And now Lieutenant Sabre's unit guarded the Emperor's residence on Zakuul and the entire Imperial Quarter, which stretched for hundreds of kilometers around the Citadel and the Throne Room. "We have started the second solar reactor to power the planetary particulate shield and will conduct its test in the near future. Three Force-sensitive individuals have been identified in the Twi'lek community. We are preparing them for transport to Tython—their potential is high."
"Lieutenant Max?" nodding in confirmation of the information from the previous officer, Bane turned his gaze to another officer. He and his people were stationed in the Maw—an anomalous region of space near Kessel. Inside the region, impassable for starships, was the Maw Installation—the Empire's top-secret research center. Max was also involved in extracting and delivering to the Installation the most valuable technologies that interested the Emperor.
"The mass shadow generator technology," the man said in a slightly raspy voice, "is already being studied by Moff Jerrod's subordinates. My people are involved in collecting the mechanisms of the full cycle of Ssi-ruuk 'enthrallment' in the lizard worlds. We found one sentient among the lizards' servants—a human, a teenager, weakly gifted in the Force. By order of the Emperor, he has been delivered to Belsavis."
"Logan?" another comrade from the Jensaarai sect. Like the previous two, he became one of the first fighters in the guard. And, with the appearance of more and more gifted ones who had undergone initiation, they received new assignments. However, career growth for a member of the guard is not a matter of pride or empty self-praise. The guard, unlike the Jedi, receives its officers by the will of the Emperor. When a new task appears.
Logan and his guardsmen were ordered to guard the Academy of Imperial Knights on Tython, with headquarters at Fortress Ro in the system and the Emperor's personal fleet under their temporary command. They also, at the direction of the head of state, conducted recruitment of new candidates from among the Academy's students into the ranks of the White Guard.
"The system's defense system has been strengthened," he said. "Lady Zavros reported the readiness of three students for graduation. We have an idea about each one. BoShek will fit perfectly into Titan Squadron. Evgum has a strong inclination toward the Dark Side. His recruitment into the guard is unfeasible. He will be sent under the command of Lady Ventress. Tasi Gree is weak as a commander and an adept of the Unifying Force. I advised the master of the Kaleth temple-library to involve him for work there. There will be fewer problems from him in an administrative position. We are conducting restoration work on the Eye of the Emperor station to gain access to the Je'daii scanning systems and control the Core space from unwanted movements."
Bane dryly advised accelerating work in this direction.
This space station, orbiting the outermost planet of the Tython system, was created by the descendants of the settlers who arrived in the Tython system on the Tho Yor, and for many millennia was used as a launchpad for starships leaving to explore other worlds of the galactic Core. The station also served as an observatory used to monitor the Core's space in the vicinity of the system. For these purposes, the station was equipped with sensor devices and communication systems created based on Tho Yor technologies that the ancient inhabitants of the star system were able to understand. Despite the archaism of the station, built tens of thousands of years ago, it was relatively well-preserved thanks to the use of Force Forging in the creation process.
When Tython was inhabited by the Je'daii, the man-made space object bore the name "Fury Station," but with the appearance of the Eternal Empire within the system's borders, after its capture, the station acquired a different name. And a purpose.
Now its personnel are the servicemen of the Emperor's Ghost Squadron, who are to launch the ancient systems and use them as early warning systems for a possible invasion. Throughout history, Tython has been subjected to sudden attacks many times—despite being located in a place where navigation is difficult. The Emperor did not want to allow even the thought that the cradle of the Order could be attacked.
In addition, after the station is restored, the notorious Titan Squadron will be stationed on it, for which the Emperor will always find a separate assignment. Including the one, the preparation for which should not be observed by too many eyes.
"Is the construction of the Sovereign proceeding according to schedule?" The computer built into the tabletop beeped with the sound of an incoming message. Bane scanned the report addressed to him by the head of the Incom Corporation. Without looking at his interlocutor—Lieutenant Olin, a former Jedi whom the Emperor had tasked with guarding the Lehon system with the planet of the same name and the pearl of the Empire—the New Forge, Vicmar quickly typed a reply and sent it, without losing the thread of Ferus's report for a moment. "Keep a close eye on this Ashsha and regularly inspect the 'batteries' coming to you for possible escape devices."
The former Jedi was a relative newcomer among the guardsmen. Although he had undergone initiation and his mind was open to the Emperor's thoughts, the captain had not yet learned to trust this man implicitly. The construction of the flagship of the Emperor and the entire Imperial fleet was, in essence, his first assignment. And depending on how Ferus Olin coped, the Emperor would decide whether he would continue his service or take the place of one of the "batteries."
"Adgar?"
"Everything is according to plan," the man replied softly, once a Jedi who had not wished to participate in the Clone Wars on the side of the rotten Republic. He and hundreds of idealists like him had left the Order, laying down their weapons and renouncing the title of Jedi. Some were subsequently found and lured to their side. For the most part, they were now the subordinates of the former Jedi Master, now—Lieutenant of the Imperial Guard.
guards.
A large detachment of guards under the command of Lieutenant Adgar was now establishing itself in the sector of the galaxy known as Sith Space, where they were to provide security for the Emperor's Citadel on Dromund Kaas, oversee the shipyards of Dromund Kalakar, the headquarters of Darth Malgus's troop grouping on Korriban, and much more. Also under his command was Titan Squadron, consisting of gifted ace pilots.
"Any problems with Darth Malgus?"
"None. He does not interfere in our affairs. We do not make life difficult for him."
"Isaru?" Vikmar shifted his attention.
Isaru Omin oversaw the events on the planet Belsavis. The prison world, chosen for these purposes by the ancient Rakata, now lay in ruins. Most of the systems there had already failed several thousand years ago, but no less than half of the cells were still functioning. And they contained prisoners—ancient Sith Lords and fallen Jedi held in stasis. All of them were a potential resource. Either in the service of the Empire or in the furnace of the New Forge. The former Senate Guard had to separate the wheat from the chaff. And he was succeeding.
"The Esh-kha are greatly hindering our work," the lieutenant reported without emotion. "As soon as we clear the rubble and open access to a new section, they try to penetrate it by every possible means."
"The reason?"
"They claim it is the will of the Mother Machine."
"Is the modification complex under our control?"
"As are forty percent of the known sections of the prison."
"Interference by the Esh-kha and the Mother Machine in the Emperor's affairs is unacceptable. Develop a plan for the forceful elimination of the obstructions."
"We are already working on it."
"I will contact Admiral Block and send additional stormtrooper units to you. Urai?"
Urai Fen—perhaps the only one among the guards whose origin was shrouded in even more mystery than the rest—headed the security of the Emperor's residence on Manaan. At the same time, he and his people conducted a selection among gifted Selkath, choosing the most promising for their subsequent training on Tython.
"The Selkath have restored the stronghold and are completing the installation of communications," Fenn reported. He was the only one of the guards who did not wear the standard helmet and ammunition, nor did he use energy weapons. However, such was the Emperor's will. Since, in addition to his main tasks, Urai also trained the few acolytes "for special assignments." In other words, liquidators, without whose services no state concerned with internal stability can manage. "Kolto extraction is proceeding at an accelerated pace. Workers have completed the installation of defensive orbital stations. Two Republican clone spies with the code names X-1 and X-2 have been identified."
"Execute them."
"They are gifted."
"Interesting," Bane remarked. "Why was this not reported immediately?"
"The information was communicated to the Lord personally."
"Did he express his will?"
"Yes."
"What is the status of fulfillment?"
"We are working in that direction."
"Report on the results regularly," Vikmar said, preparing to move on to the next guard. However, through the Force, he felt the skepticism emanating from Urai.
"Do you wish to ask something, lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir. The Emperor is unavailable..." Fenn hesitated slightly. "To whom should the progress be reported?"
"If the Lord does not appear before the results of the work with the spies are obtained," the answer came quickly, "report to me personally."
In the Emperor's absence, Vikmar managed all affairs on Zakuul—both political and economic. Not to mention military. No one had anticipated a situation like this, so a political structure capable of speaking on behalf of the Emperor during periods of lost contact simply had not been created.
The Captain of the Guard realized that at the moment, only his subordinates and the gifted close to the Emperor knew that contact with him had been severed—which could mean absolutely anything. From the Lord's death to his capture and being cut off from the Force. Soldiers, engineers, scientists—they all continued their work, knowing absolutely nothing about what was happening. As long as the Emperor's disappearance remains a secret, the Empire continues to turn the flywheels of its activity as if nothing had happened. But should rumors leak—and the public will begin to grumble. Not to mention that the military could tear the Empire to pieces. Of course, the guard and the stormtroopers loyal personally to the Emperor would destroy anyone who even dared to think about privatizing even the smallest piece of the state. But that was a last resort.
"Captain Ralinai. Your turn."
A middle-aged young woman with long blonde hair, despite her fragile figure and pretty, non-threatening appearance, was one of the most dangerous opponents among those Vikmar had known in his entire life.
In the past—a Jedi Master, an excellent pilot and fencer who enjoyed considerable respect among the established members of the Order, she had left it shortly before the start of the Clone Wars, joining the Jensaarai. Her initiation into the Dark Side had made her an even more serious adversary—despite the fact that the leader of the Jensaarai himself understood very little of what he tried to instill in his followers. The Tython Academy had brought her talents to a higher level.
It was no wonder that the Emperor had made her the guardian of the Empire's throne world—the moon Yavin 4, which, like the Gordian Reach itself, where the Emperor's personal treasury, his numerous laboratories, secret archives, and a number of secrets unknown even to the guards were located, belonged to the category of "Closed Territories." But unlike the others—Sith Space, Belsavis, Lehon, the Maw, and some others—access to the Gordian Reach was closed to everyone. Only the Emperor could permit someone to visit this cluster. However, in Vikmar's memory, there had been no such cases since the systems there had been occupied by the Empire.
Perhaps it was a dubious acquisition. Despite the discovery of the Reach many thousands of years ago, most of the systems there had not been settled, or even fully explored. Humans had established themselves in the Arda system but lived in isolation from the rest of the galaxy. They did not care about the Republics or the Confederacy. And they treated the Empire with great suspicion. At least until several Harrower-class Star Destroyers appeared in their orbit. The guard conveyed the "Imperial policy" to the locals, backing their promises with a much firmer currency. Thus, the guard curbed the Strenax race—winged humanoid creatures that constantly caused trouble for their nearest neighbors. In particular, the colonists on Arda II. The locals believed that one day the Strenax would attack them and carry out a massacre. They had not done so only because in ancient times they had lost some idol and vowed not to fly until they found it. However, this did not prevent them from "dropping by" Zeltros to visit the local hedonists and demonstrate their own love mentality, coupled with extreme cruelty, to the local people who were pliable and predisposed to obtaining pleasure by all available means.
Ralinai had stood out from the general number of guards stationed on Yavin 4 after she discovered a certain structure that interested the Emperor himself. He had elevated her, granting her a rank equivalent to that held by the head of the Imperial Guards himself, and essentially appointing her as Bane's deputy. Such a position allowed the girl not only to avoid reporting to her immediate command in the person of Vikmar but also to dictate her will to various guard detachments.
Ralinai had taken more than a hundred sentients from among the "younglings"—selected from Academy students or captured gifted individuals who had passed initiation—under her wing. It was obvious that they were all now hanging around in the Gordian Reach, but how many of them were actually there, what they were doing there, and what was generally happening in that star cluster was a mystery even greater than exactly how the Emperor managed to keep the subordination of such a vast territory a secret literally under the noses of the opposing sides.
"My report is intended only for the Emperor," the woman said in such a tone that there were no illusions that Vikmar would hear any details. In fact, he did not intend to. He was merely observing the formalities of the principle of unity of command.
"It is enough for me to know that in your zone of responsibility there are no problems requiring outside intervention," the captain said. "You will report the details to the Emperor personally when he becomes available."
"Everything is proceeding in accordance with the Emperor's designs," the only woman in the room said after a pause. "I also wish to inform you that I will require another twenty guards from among the 'younglings'."
"They will be provided," Vikmar assured her.
"I am taking one of the Gauntlet-class starfighters," the woman continued. "And fifty dreadnoughts."
"This has been coordinated with the Emperor," Vikmar confirmed. "The ships are awaiting you in orbit of the Red Moon."
Zakuul had three moons.
The White one, where the headquarters, training centers, and all sorts of infrastructure of the Imperial Security Bureau were located—the law enforcement agency of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, dealing with issues of state security, espionage, counterintelligence, and population loyalty. It was there that the filtration camps for newcomers who had passed primary screening by field agents were located.
The Blue one—entirely covered by oceans and rocky continents that looked more like islands—was given to the Imperial Medical Center, a huge conglomerate of various educational, medical, and preventive institutions whose sole purpose was to care for the health of the Empire's growing population.
And finally, the Red one. The headquarters of the fleet based in the system was located there. In fact, not a single warship, without the appropriate permission, could proceed past this orbital position. Unless, of course, it desired an encounter with the turbolaser guns of the numerous defensive stations and patrol ships.
All military fleet gatherings took place on the Red Moon—both for those passing through the system in transit and for those based in it.
In total, the fleet of the Eternal Empire had six Gauntlet-class starfighters, one of which had been modernized at Rendili to allow for mobile docks for Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers. One such ship was under the command of Grand Admiral Thrawn, Admiral Block, Asajj Ventress, and Darth Malgus. The Unconquered invariably stood watch in orbit of the Red Moon, performing the role of a mobile command post as well as a dock—damaged Dreadnoughts from Thrawn's fleet needing minor repairs arrived in the system from time to time.
And now, the second tactical ship, along with most of the Dreadnoughts stationed in the Zakuul system, was departing for the Gordian Reach. Of course, this would significantly reduce the Empire's capital's own defense, but... Who was he to challenge an order coming directly from the Emperor? Even if his thoughts were expressed through the mouth of a Captain of the Guard.
"Anything else?"
"Yes. I am notifying you that in the near future my people will conduct recruitment activities on Wasskah—a moon of the planet Trandoshan in the Kashyyyk system, on Bespin, on S'kytri, Eol Sha, and Firrerre in the systems of the same names."
"We have no people in those systems," Vikmar Bane replied without a moment's hesitation.
Among the commanders of various Imperial armed units, there was an obligation to warn colleagues about "work" in their zone of responsibility. To avoid incidents.
The guard had similar principles.
"We are finished here," Vikmar announced, thereby dismissing his subordinates. There was no need to ask if they had questions. Naturally, they did not—if they had, those who had them would have voiced them.
After his subordinates left his office, he used electronics to lock the entrance door and proceeded to an inconspicuous-looking wall panel. Like all the others, it was made of neutronium, which possessed such density that even the gifted could not use the Force to detect voids.
A secret door swung open as soon as he triggered the hidden mechanism. Proceeding into the adjacent room, he sat in a chair in front of numerous monitors showing various sentients. Some of them were now in the dungeons of the Citadel, connected to the Emperor's mechanisms. The initiation process for most of them had barely begun. And although everything had previously gone according to plan, now that contact with the Emperor was broken, there was no guarantee that these sentients would become full-fledged guards. The Emperor's mental connection with each new convert was established without fail during the breaking of their body and consciousness and had to be continuous—to remain so forever.
But since the process was already disrupted...
The Captain of the Imperial Guard had to be certain of his subordinates' loyalty to their master.
"Terminate the procedure," he ordered, activating the microphone. "Place the subjects in stasis and prepare them for transport."
A pair of silent guards appeared on screen and began disconnecting the unconscious test subjects from the equipment.
A pity to lose such valuable material.
But the Imperial Guard cannot take risks.
And the New Forge can always use new "batteries."
***
The sound of footsteps echoed hollowly through the hall of the Father's dwelling.
I walked along the already familiar walkway toward the far end of the giant hall.
Clad in my Jedi Knight armor with the invariably black-and-silver cape, my hood pulled over my head. With a pair of my blades hanging at my belt and Revan's lightsaber secured near my back. A couple of grenades, several tanks of bacta, a personal shield generator.
Would this simple arsenal help me get out of here alive? Oh, I didn't know. But I would fight to the end.
The Father seemed not to have moved from his spot since our conversation.
He still walked imposingly, with small steps, slowly moving his feet along the edge of the central platform, his hands behind his back. His face expressed no emotion; he likely felt none. Even with the Force, I could not determine his mood. Nor could I understand if he knew anything of what had happened in the intervening time.
"You have returned," the Father stated.
"As you can see," I shrugged. "Why all these obvious statements? You knew it would be so."
"I assumed," the Celestial replied vaguely. "The future is always in motion; it is impossible to say exactly what will happen in the next moment."
"And I thought the guardian of Balance was the only Force adept capable of reliably foreseeing the future..."
"I know enough." The old man measured me with a look that promised nothing good. "I know of your meetings with the Daughter and the Son."
"Peeping isn't nice," I had to remind the old man of the obvious. "Especially watching your daughter... You shouldn't be so distrustful."
"Your intimacy means nothing to her." A note of steel sounded in the old man's voice. "You are not the first and far from the last representative of a lower life form with whom she has shared and will share a bed. Flesh is weak by its nature. So do not think that you can influence my decision in any way."
"Yeah, the life hack of sleeping with the daughter to get what you want from her daddy doesn't work in this universe," I lamented. "So, you won't allow me to leave Mortis and continue my mission?"
"Not until you become the conduit of my will," the Father confirmed my assumptions.
Well, old man, God bless you, the Force is my witness, I wanted to part in peace.
"Then why are we having this conversation alone?" I asked. "Shouldn't we be working in close coordination—you, me, the Daughter, the Son?"
"They have nothing to do with my plans," the Father said sharply. A flicker of understanding of what was actually happening crossed his eyes. Because behind my back, I heard the flapping of wings.
"They're earlier than I expected." A sour expression froze on the Father's face. Yes, my gaunt, long-bearded friend. Wanted to pull off this crap on the quiet? It won't work.
Actually, the Daughter's appearance was not part of my plan.
Apparently, the Son had decided to play his own card.
Very inconvenient. I'd have to wait with the main course until I figured out what was going on.
"How can this be, Father?" the Son asked with feigned surprise, walking around me on the left side. While his sister walked impassively on the right, not even gracing me with a look. Oh, look how delicate we are. Strong and independent, is it? "I thought we were a Family. And such fateful decisions should be made together."
"My conversation with Egor does not concern you," the Father said, following the Son with his eyes.
"Why?" the Daughter asked the obvious question. "Do the affairs of the galaxy not concern us?"
"Do we not do all the dirty work for you?" the Son began to flare up. "Or are we not worthy of knowing your secrets?"
"You chose your own path," the Father said sharply. "You became avatars of Light and Dark, instead of..."
"Instead of what?" the Son asked impatiently. "Sitting idle like you? Abiding in eternal harmony?"
"Creating Chosen Ones?" the Daughter clarified. Catching the Father's clearly puzzled look, she pointed a finger at me. "Why does he, an ordinary sentient, know of your secret, while we, your children, those whom you created in your own image and Force likeness, must remain in ignorance?"
"Sometimes, to protect children from danger, one should not tell them everything," the Father said meaningfully, looking at me very, very unkindly. I could swear I wouldn't leave Mortis alive now under any circumstances.
Which meant it was time to flip the table and shuffle all the cards.
"You know," I said, clearing my throat to attract attention. "I've always wondered—why does your trio take me for an idiot?"
The Celestials stared at me with questioning looks.
"You're like a viper's nest on minimum settings. Everyone tries to get something for themselves that the other doesn't have. Everyone tells me half-truths, tries to make me an ally. And you all try to steer me away from Vitiate. As if some ghost could really do things that your trio of daredevils couldn't fix. As if it could happen that I'd finally go crazy and not connect all the dots of what's happening?"
"What are you talking about?" the Daughter asked.
"About the fact that you're a bunch of moral freaks," I sighed. "Forgive my bluntness, of course. But you, Daughter, tell the truth. Is your real name Yun-Txiin or Yun-K'aa?"
"Yun-K'aa," she said, frowning slightly. "Yun-Txiin is the Son's name."
Then, hearing a serpentine hiss from the Father, the Celestial realized she had voiced exactly what she shouldn't have. For a moment, a tense silence hung, and only then did it hit her. And the impassivity on the daughter's face cracked: her eyes widened so much you could park a speeder in them.
"Well, everything has fallen into place," I sighed, looking at the Daughter and the Son. "So you are the Lover-Gods. And you, then," I pointed at the Father, "are Yun-Yuuzhan?"
The old man remained impassively silent.
"You don't have to answer. It's all clear anyway," I nodded. "Yeah, you guys really messed with my head. I'm having such a total breakdown of my worldview..."
"This changes nothing," the Son exhaled. "Our plan..."
"Oh, go to hell, you self-taught maniac," I brushed him off. "I didn't want to have anything to do with you and I won't. But thanks for telling me where to find the Dagger of Mortis. My girls have already laid their greedy hands on it."
A cry of despair escaped the Daughter's chest.
"You showed him the Monastery?!" the Father roared.
"Why?" the Daughter said with a break in her voice. "Why did you betray us?"
"I betrayed you?" the Son said in a voice full of venom, then pointed a finger at the Father. "He keeps us prisoner, sister! For millennia we have been locked here, in complete isolation from the world, in his complete power!"
"It was done for your own good!" the head of the family growled.
"If so," I asked innocently, "then why are you deceiving your own children?"
In the next second, the Father waved his hand, clenching his palm into a fist, and my throat was captured by the grip of an invisible hand. My blood instantly boiled, deprived of oxygen, and my head buzzed. The picture before my eyes blurred, and my body stopped obeying.
Oh boy. I definitely wasn't ready for this turn of events—Vader cosplay. Falling to my knees, I began to frantically call upon the Force, seeking to break the shackles choking me. But without any result. The old man, despite all his frailty, turned out to be no pushover.
An absolutely crappy situation.
"What is he talking about, Father?" the Daughter asked anxiously. The Son, whose eyes blazed with hellish fire, without saying a word, hurled a bundle of crimson lightning at the old man, causing the bearded Celestial to tumble aside. "What are you doing?!"
"I want to know what this bug is saying!" the Son roared, watching as I, frantically inhaling air, rose to my feet. "Don't you want to know the truth?"
"Are you ready to believe him?" the Father said tiredly, rising from the floor. "The one who himself admitted he took advantage of your trust?"
"You think he's the only one here like that?" the Son gritted his teeth, looking at me. "Speak, and you'll live a few more minutes!"
"You guys are finished," I wheezed. "No wonder the Yuuzhan Vong are absolute headless idiots. With gods like you..."
"That was a long time ago," the Daughter shook her head. "We were young and did not understand our mistakes..."
"Tell that to someone stupider than me," I requested, rising to my feet, and in the same second surrounded myself with a Force Barrier. The most powerful one I was capable of creating.
And just in time, because the Son poured the next stream of rage onto me. Crimson clumps of the Dark Side crashed against my defense, nearly tearing it to shreds, but he had picked the wrong target.
The entire planet Mortis is one big reservoir of the Force. From which I was now shamelessly drawing energy to fuel the Barrier.
"You're impatient," I remarked, addressing the Son. "With that kind of restraint, you're definitely not going to kill your daddy."
"You planned to kill the Father?" the Daughter was horrified. The red-eyed one didn't have time to answer her, as in the next moment he was knocked off his feet by a clump of Force sufficient to vaporize the sloop I had arrived in. The Son, somersaulting over his back, slammed into the wall of the hall and slumped to the floor without any movement.
"Father, what are you doing?" the Daughter shrieked, seeing the enraged old man watching with satisfaction as his attack on his own child succeeded.
The Daughter, realizing that her father did not intend to engage in conversation, tried to cast some spell from her own kung fu arsenal, but the parent forestalled her, repeating the same procedure as with the Son before. The two-meter-tall girl, taking a heavy hit, collapsed face-first onto the floor.
Meanwhile, the exhausted Father, in whose eyes unmasked rage flowed, sank to one knee, breathing heavily.
"Too old for this crap?" I inquired.
"I have enough strength left to finish you," the Father assured me.
"As you can see," I smiled, tapping my breastplate, "still alive."
"Not after I cut you off from the Force of Mortis," the old man hissed venomously. He cast quick glances toward his children, who had already begun to move, and with a furious howl, spreading his arms to the sides, invisibly pinned both to the floor. "You turned my children against me!"
"That was the plan," I shrugged. "I can't defeat you alone. But with the help of the Son and the Daughter..."
"They will not join you," the Father assured me, his face contorted from the effort.
"We'll see," I grinned, "whose side they take after hearing how you've been leading them by the nose for millennia, pulling off your machinations with the Force. How you created the Chosen One so he would control them and keep them on a leash, locking them in the Monolith and releasing them only when needed to maintain your beloved Balance. Which, in turn, is also nothing more than a lie and a fairy tale for degenerates."
"That is a lie!" the Father roared, unleashing something like a Force Wave on me. But either he miscalculated or didn't have a large reserve of Force; his attack didn't cause me much harm. It moved me a couple of meters and practically destroyed the Barrier. Fortunately, I have an inexhaustible supply of Force. Thank you, Mother Machine, for the upgrade—I can spit on everyone and draw Force as much as I want. As long as there's somewhere to draw it from.
But for my plan, I needed to buy more time. And drive the wedge deeper between the members of this Addams Family.
"Don't you want to know where you messed up?" I asked, watching as the Son unsuccessfully showered crimson lightning on the invisible dome that pinned him to the floor. The Daughter was trying to do exactly the same, using her telekinetic arsenal.
"I don't care." The grinding of the Father's teeth echoed throughout the hall. "With your death, it will not have any meaning."
"Then I should all the more tell you about my conclusions," I smiled. "Or you can let me go on my way and not interfere in my plans."
My answer was the strained wheezing of the daddy, who, dripping with sweat, tried to hold both his children. And they, seeing their parent's lawlessness, only intensified their attacks.
"Well, if not, then not," I shrugged. "Correct me if I'm wrong. So, the homeland of your family of freaks and incest lovers is the planet Iokath. And you appeared quite far from the Celestial River, and all these myths about the birth of the Family in this galaxy were created by you to avoid incidents. Well, you know, just in case someone finds out what kind of garbage you and your kin were doing before this. For example, what if someone besides your battle droids survived in the native galaxy of the Yuuzhan Vong? Or if they didn't fully destroy each other with mutual annihilation. Or maybe someone finds out that it was your race that burned worlds in Wild Space and decides to hold you accountable... But I'm being too superficial; do you mind if I start from the very beginning?"
"Shut your mouth, worm!" the Father snapped. He was no longer trying to portray something spiritual, simply turning himself into a conduit for the Force, which with every minute began to glow like a Christmas tree. The children were drawing Force from Mortis to break their father's tricks. They had already managed to get to their feet, but the Father pinned them to the walls, surrounding them with a Force Barrier. The latter, to hold them, turned to the same source of Force. And this process gained momentum with every moment.
The Father clearly had no time for me. Which meant it was time to show off my erudition.
"As I already said, your race is the inhabitants of the planet Iokath. Vile jerks who spent their whole lives creating some wunderwaffe capable only of destruction. And in the galaxy where the Yuuzhan Vong people lived and prospered, you created two races of droids—just for fun, to check whose design bureau was better. And you didn't care that their battlefield was an entire galaxy—you just sat on Iokath, watched the interstellar boob tube, and caught laughs from how another people was dying. So far so good, isn't it?"
"Nonsense!" A note of fatigue was heard in the Father's voice. "You have no proof!"
"Of course," I agreed. "These are all my conclusions, drawn from what I knew before appearing in this galaxy, learned from the sneaky Vitiate, who also didn't tell me everything he knew, and you and your kids provided food for thought. Well, let's continue. Somehow, on the path of your war machines, the Yuuzhan Vong planet, Yuuzhan'tar, appeared. The local organics took a heavy hit from the rampaging Skynet, were shocked by such a first contact, and sent their peaceful and carefree life to hell. They began to break your dummies using their organic technologies. Which caused you yourselves to drop into a state of shock. And you decided to figure out what was going on. Well, and who would the locals tell everything to if not their gods? I don't know if they had deities before this case, or if you created them, but one way or another, you joined the locals as a group. You talked, found out what you needed from them to work on your mistakes, and decided to discard the guys. And in the most barbaric way—you deprived them of the Force. Only not as godlessly as you subsequently did with the Killiks in our galaxy. But with true barbaric pleasure—with pain, sadism, and other delights from the 'BDSM without intercourse' category."
"A vile lie!" the Son shouted. "The Yuuzhan Vong easily destroyed both races of droids, using the Force as a weapon! And in a way that even we did not know how! They had to be stopped! Not allowed to break out beyond the galaxy. We destroyed them so as not to bring even more pain to the galaxy!"
"Well, there's some specifics," I approved. "You saw that someone had better toys than yours and decided to take them away. Well done. However, here a vague doubt torments me that you're trying to pull the wool over my eyes again. You see, all of you, almost like Vitiate, as soon as you open your mouths—there's a whole host of voices. Only he got that feature after he swallowed the life of an entire world all by himself. And I bet you performed roughly the same operation on the Yuuzhan Vong people. Only you didn't exterminate them to hell and back, but sucked all the Force out of them. But as I understand it, in the midst of all this bacchanalia, Yuuzhan'tar was able to preserve its seed—Zonama Sekot, which it sent far away from the rampaging furry beast? And you, being cowards that this might come back to bite you—well, you know, what if that little planet has an even more terrible weapon that can carry out an exterminatus not just on some droids, but on their creators in your person—feverishly wrapped up all your business, finally leaving the Yuuzhan Vong to fight each other with organic sticks and stones, and rushed after Zonama Sekot. And you arrived in our galaxy. Where in your favorite manner you began to burn worlds whose inhabitants had any contact with it..."
"We were eliminating pockets of possible Yuuzhan Vong emergence," the Father noted. "Places where they could establish colonies, a bridgehead for invasion..."
"You said we were destroying races as dangerous as the Vong themselves so as not to repeat our mistakes!" the Son roared, pounding his hands against the barrier.
"You were deceiving us, Father," the Daughter said, not believing her ears. "We destroyed trillions..."
"I can just see you discussing this with each other on board your beautiful world-ship Iokath," I chuckled. "But got—"
I would bet that Father played a significant role on your home planet back then. And he was the author of this beautiful, and most importantly, reliable solution. Dividing by zero all those races that didn't want to serve you in the search and destruction of Zonama Sekot... it was somehow too flashy. But not effective. One way or another, you and your brethren continued to destroy billions of sentients who stood against their enslavement. I suspect the Sharu race burrowed underground for that very reason—to get away from the deranged Celestials. And yet, you still screwed up Zonama Sekot. It seems to me that it was after this that your disagreements with the other inhabitants of Iokath began. Which ultimately resulted in a civil war followed by the self-extinction of the latter.
- It wasn't like that at all, - Father hotly retorted. - Our people did everything so that the Yuuzhan Vong would become more perfect than themselves, reaching the peaks of evolution! Endless conflicts helped them in this. But we were mistaken. They turned out to be too perverted and desired to use the Force only as a weapon. And we stripped them of it! Their organic technologies are far too dangerous for everyone! We only put an end to their desire to conquer free peoples!
- You only gave them the motivation to start a crusade, - I remarked calmly. - Typical Celestial wisdom: we will help you—we will destroy you.
- This cannot be, - the Daughter was taken aback. - Father, you said they had perished!
- Liar! - the Son roared. - You deceived us then and continued to deceive us for hundreds of thousands of years!
- Moreover, - I smirked, - right now all the Yuuzhan Vong are flying here. Following the trail of their offenders...
- They cannot break through the gravity barrier! - Father noted. It seemed he was absolutely uninterested in what his children were saying about him. He looked directly at me, not attempting to attack... Why would that be? - Not a single hyperdrive works within its zone of influence. And without the Force, they will never find a loophole to overcome it!
- And yet, they are on their way, - I grinned. - Forty-five years—and they will be here. They will sweep through the galaxy with fire and sword. Apparently, they have plenty of motives to drop by for a visit. They're looking for a new home, and they want revenge on those who wronged them. It's no wonder they'll slaughter a third of the galaxy here—just out of spite. Because your idiotic behavior led to them becoming moral bastards who accept pain as a given and believe the whole galaxy should suffer as they suffered! Because you stripped them of the Force!
- You said it would kill them, - the Daughter said with tears in her eyes. - You said it was the ultimate mercy...
- And you still wonder why I want to kill him?! - the Son shouted. - He is no better than those senile fools from Iokath who killed each other in attempts to create an even more powerful weapon...
- Yes, most likely they were trying to create a new weapon to end the Vong threat once and for all. But something went wrong, and they slaughtered each other. Although, I have no doubt that you also had a hand in it—it's no coincidence that Iokath perished while you and your children continued to live. You even built yourselves a new home—a Dyson sphere just like Iokath was. Except on a smaller scale.
- Is it true, Father? - the Daughter asked. - Are you involved in the death of our people?
- We disagreed on the fate of this galaxy, - he hissed. - They wanted to stop all experiments. Leave the Celestial River and start all over again in another galaxy. Disregarding how many resources were spent to nurture new races here. To teach them to handle the Force! To abandon to fate what had been created over millennia!
- So it's just banal greed, - I realized. - And I saw it quite differently. That your kin turned against you when they found out what you did to Abeloth. She is the Servant. She is the Mother.
- How is that? - the Son was stunned. - You are involved in this too?
- You said it all happened by accident! - the Daughter recalled. - That she touched the forbidden herself, not wanting to leave us...
- Do not listen to him! - Father growled. I felt him beginning to weaken. Withstanding two powerful Force adepts at once proved to be beyond his strength. But, no matter how amusing this whole pun was, it was necessary to hurry. The Son and Daughter were certainly reflecting on the fact that their dear old dad wasn't as white and fluffy as they thought. However, my deductions weren't finished yet. I saw that in the faces of the two young Celestials, I had found an appreciative audience. They had questions and grievances against Father even before this, and hearing the reasoning of my authorship, their indignant minds began to boil with renewed vigor. No matter, we hadn't even reached the most important part yet.
- You know, for a long time I couldn't understand, - I admitted. - Why you needed Abeloth. It would seem that since she provokes the bloodshed you use for the supposed development of the galaxy, weeding out the weak and promoting the strong, why create your total antipode? After all, what you do could easily be arranged using Iokath technology. The Eternal Fleet, the Gods of Iokath—sentient machines capable of destroying all life in the galaxy... why, on your home planet there are hundreds of wonder-weapons capable of plunging the galaxy into the abyss of war. Perhaps that is why the other Celestials didn't understand your action. And you didn't want to back down from your point of view. And so you did everything to make them finish each other off.
Apparently, the logical conclusions and conjectures turned out to be very close to the truth. Because Father snapped.
- None of them understood that by testing sentients with our weapons, forcing them to fight our technology, we were repeating the same mistake we made with the Yuuzhan Vong! - Father shouted. - Confronting an external enemy that is excessively strong only breeds bitterness, and there is no chance for worthy development! The conflicting parties must be in roughly equal conditions for evolution to continue! Times have changed, and it is no longer enough to simply destroy races in the hope they can rise from the ruins stronger. The others didn't want to admit it! With the help of the Eternal Fleet, they intended to destroy the entire population of this galaxy in a vain hope to track down and destroy Zonama Sekot! Its collapse would have allowed them to sweep away all traces of their existence! To burn the galaxy to the ground and leave for another, leaving the Eternal Fleet here to await the arrival of the Yuuzhan Vong, who would be unable to withstand it and would all perish here as one! That is why I created the Gravestone, and defeated the Eternal Fleet with its help. And then I turned the Gods of Iokath against their creators! Stopped them! Set the Gods upon Iokath and ended the short-sightedness of my race!
- Well, even Moses would envy your cleverness, - I appraised.
A small excursion into history. The Eternal Fleet existed long before the whole Sith-Jedi fuss began. It was an armada of thousands of ships, armed with the latest Iokath technology. Each of the starships was controlled by a GEMINI droid, which I am currently using as central computers on the space vessels in my fleet. With the necessary reprogramming, of course.
So, in the distant past, the Eternal Fleet destroyed all sentient civilizations that happened to cross its path. Now it's clear why. But at some point in time, the Gravestone appeared—a lone but extremely powerful warship capable of standing against the Eternal Fleet, and even successfully picking off the ships within its composition. Moreover, the Gravestone was the avatar of Zildrog, one of the Gods of Iokath—a superweapon created on Iokath in the form of massive droids with colossal destructive power. For a long time, I thought the inhabitants of Iokath killed each other during a civil war in pursuit of leadership in a Special Olympics for degenerates, figuring out whose weapon was better. Yes, thanks to Vitiate—he skillfully cluttered my head, hiding the most important part. That bastard definitely knew everything I just dumped on the Family.
The last doubts about the former Sith Emperor's dirty game vanished. He knew about everything—he couldn't not know. He personally knew Zildrog, had dealings with him—the Hutt God helped him carry out the ritual on Nathema. Surely, he was the one who told Vitiate the location of the Eternal Fleet, which the latter then subordinated to himself and used to create his own Eternal Empire of Zakuul, which was supposed to replace the Sith Empire that had failed to live up to its creator's hopes.
- The whole difference is in the creative approach, isn't it? - I asked Father. - Your tribesmen believed that experiments with lower races should be conducted using technology, while you believed they should be done using the Force? After all, you liked feeling omnipotent after you took all the Force from the Vong, didn't you?
- We are the superior race! - Father roared, with incredible effort pinning down the Son who had broken free from the trap. - The Force belongs to us! To me! I am the Master of the Force! And the fate of this galaxy is in my hands!
- You are weak, old man! - the Son shouted. - And you've long since lost your mind! Your time is ending, and the Force is fading!
- Your villainy will come to an end! - the Daughter declared resolutely. - You will no longer push us around! We will leave Mortis, and you won't be able to stop us!
- Oh, he certainly can, - I chuckled. - After all, it's no coincidence he created Abeloth. It's not so easy to create a new Celestial when the only female specimen is your own Daughter. So why not seduce a simple sentient woman. Well, and so she wouldn't fly apart while carrying the energy essence of a Celestial, you had to make her like yourself.
- This is sacrilege! - the Son cried out. - You have flouted all the laws you yourself created!
- Oh, look who's talking, - I smirked. - You yourself actually had your own sister.
- What?! - it was Father's turn to be shocked in a Celestial way. With a face twisted in rage, he squeezed his children with the Force, clearly intending to end their existence. - You... how did you dare?!
- Did you tell him? - the Son roared, turning to his clearly stunned sister.
- No! - she said, not quite convincingly. - He couldn't have known that!
- And yet I do know it, - I shrugged. - Suspicions crept in even when the Son visited the Daughter's grave after her death and said she was the only one he loved. Not to mention that the Dathomir witches from the Nightsister clan called you the Divine Twins. Well, and after you fell for the provocation and gave your real names—the lover-gods from the Yuuzhan Vong pantheon—there was no longer any doubt. The only question was whether your daddy knew about it. As it turned out, he didn't.
But I have no doubt he suspected. After all, it's no coincidence he decided to create a new Celestial by impregnating the Servant.
One who would be capable of bringing you to heel when his life ended. And he even forced you to call her, the Servant, nothing other than Mother.
- My grave? - the Daughter's surprise was boundless. Which, generally speaking, is understandable.
- That very one, - I confirmed. - Daddy, whose ability to see the future—thanks to his magnificent way of sitting on two chairs at once—didn't tell the main part. His wonderful son—Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, will fly here at Father's call and stir up a real mess with subsequent interesting developments. First, he'll prompt the Son to go against Father, and the Daughter to reveal the location of the Dagger to the Jedi. Then the Son will try to kill Father to escape Mortis, but will kill the Daughter instead. Well, and as the curtain falls on everything happening, Father will kill himself with that same dagger to take away most of the Son's power, after which his so dearly beloved Anakin Skywalker will finish off both the Son and Father with his Jedi sword. Profit achieved. Only it's unclear what you, so great and able to look into tomorrow, wanted to achieve with this? Did you really expect Skywalker to stay here and keep the Son and Daughter on a short leash? Although personally, I'm much more interested in why, having conceived the essence of Anakin with the help of Abeloth, you placed the fetus in a simple human woman, Shmi Skywalker? The poor thing probably didn't understand until the very end how she got pregnant without knowing a man.
- Father, is it true?
The Daughter, so discouraged that she stopped resisting Father, hung like a limp doll, watching the old man who looked less and less like that philosophizing bearded man from the animated series.
- Can't you see it's true?
But the Son, as befits a Sith, kept straining against Father's grip, and with extreme energy. He strained, writhed, and unleashed lightning, causing the entire part of Father's abode where he was located to already be covered in a thick layer of soot.
- He is deceiving you! - Father tried to reason with his children. - Everything I do...
- You're a total liar, daddy! - I shouted. - If you wanted to get rid of the Servant in the event she "accidentally" got her powers, you would have done it long ago! But otherwise, you wouldn't have excuses to keep your kids here! And besides, Abeloth is a perfect catalyst for conflict. You saw the galaxy slowly stop going according to plan—you let the old lady out, and behold—new bloodshed. You let the children off the leash when necessary—and got the required result. The weak died, the strong remained. Only you're doing a pretty lousy job of it—for the last millennium, the Republic and the Jedi have only been degenerating...
- That is how it should be, - seizing the moment when the Daughter, filled with total apathy, stopped all resistance, Father switched to me. The Barrier surrounding my body shattered into pieces, and in that same second, it was as if a house collapsed on me, pinning me to the floor so hard that not only did my bones crack, but the floor beneath me rapidly began to cover with cracks. Not to mention that my body began to press through the extremely dense structure of the local floor covering. - The Republic must fall for what it did to Iokath! The consequences of the destruction of my homeland must become a cautionary lesson for the entire population of the galaxy! You are all insignificant cockroaches whom my true heir, the Chosen One, will pin down and... Aghr!!
Simultaneously with the old man interrupting his angry monologue, the pressure on me vanished. My body, like cotton wool, howled in pain. The Force suggested that inside there were a significant number of, at best, cracks in the bones of the musculoskeletal system (that is, the skeleton)—the only thing that would support me in any situation. Oh, I feel it will take a lot of time to put myself back in order.
Thanking once again the knowledge of Karness Muur, who passed on to me knowledge, specifically the method of strengthening one's own organism through Force Forging, I rose to my feet.
Father, in whose chest a very impressive hole gaped, lay on the floor, watching me with a fading, hating gaze.
- You will pay for this, - he whispered as I approached.
- Undoubtedly, - it wasn't worth denying the complex karmic connection in this universe. Therefore, I was mentally prepared for the fact that one day the proverbial brick would still fall on my head. The main thing was to complete my undertakings before then. - But you certainly won't see it.
Father's Force was escaping like granulated sugar caught in the wind. I absorbed many of them, soaking up the Celestial's energy, directing it toward the restoration of my own organism. I couldn't absorb it like a Force Ghost. My organism rejected it as if it were something alien. Therefore, after making several unsuccessful attempts to seize Father's power, I waved it off. It was enough that I used it to restore my body. And the rest... I don't give a damn. The main thing is that this Force won't go to anyone.
- My Lord? - Kira asked me, still holding the Dagger of Mortis in her hands. - What next?
Looking at the motionlessly frozen Daughter, staring with a dead gaze at the corpse of her Father, and at the Son, who was laughing triumphantly, breaking into a traditional villainous cackle, I shook my head.
- Go.
Karsen, with a short nod, covered herself with a Force Cloak, instantly melting into space.
- Excellent, my young apprentice! - the Son said triumphantly, approaching me. - I must admit, at first I thought you decided to break our agreement. Even though it wasn't part of the original plan, I am pleased...
The Son placed his hand encouragingly on my shoulder, giving it a slight shake.
- Let's go. I feel that the Force holding me on Mortis is gone. We need to move to your ship! Great deeds await us...
- Me, - I had to correct the fool.
- What do you mean? - the Son frowned. - You remember, the galaxy must be ours!
- Mine, - I corrected the Celestial again.
For some reason, fatigue was washing over my body. Most likely nervous. Because until the very last moment, I didn't believe everything would work out. That I would manage to intrigue the idiots so much that their focus of attention would shift to each other and I wouldn't be ground into dust immediately. I didn't believe that Kira's Cloak alone would be enough to hide her presence, as well as to conceal from the Celestials the presence of a powerful Force artifact in the Temple. The Son, of course, proved that even Celestials whose attention is distracted cannot fully control the situation. But there always remained the chance that the trick with creating the phantom proved possible only because of the Son's blatant stupidity, too absorbed in his own combination rather than focused on what was happening.
Yes, the comedown is brutal. I'm frankly tempted to lie down and sleep for several days.
But I can't. The gambit isn't fully completed.
The Son and Daughter are only weakened—significantly, but not entirely. They are by no means defenseless. I felt the Son's aura as something pale, matching Skywalker or Yoda. But it was nothing compared to that all-consuming power I felt during previous meetings with the Daughter and Son. And therefore...
- You foul runt, daring to go against me! - the Son growled, raising his hands with the clear intention of roasting me with lightning. - Your fate will be decided right now!
Deep blue-purple streams of Force Lightning, having lost not only their intensity but even their color, clung to my Force Barrier without causing any harm.
- Total moron, - I commented. - You told me yourself that without Father your powers are significantly less.
- They are enough for you! - he assured me, increasing his pressure with a triumphant glint in his eyes.
- And for you too, - I assured him sadly, watching as Khem Val, having materialized behind the Son's back, severed the Celestial's head with a single blow.
The stream of Lightning stopped instantly. Although it hadn't harmed me, its absence brought a lot of relief.
The plan was coming to an end.
I habitually touched the Son's escaping essence, trying to absorb it too, but again the organism rejected this energy. Quite strange, but it seems Celestials do have a different nature of the Force. Or else, it is inaccessible to me. Anyway, I don't care. The main thing is that it won't go to someone else.
- What, you won't even try to devour their corpses? - I asked the Dashade, pointing to the bodies of Father and the Son.
- Alien Force, - he said disappointedly. - Cannot digest...
- As you wish, Shadow Killer, - I said, nodding toward the exit.
Khem Val, casting a glance at the last representative of the ancient civilization, licked his lips carnivorously.
- But what about the Daughter?
- She is not your concern, - I shook my head. - I'll deal with her myself. Help the commandos and the Hands finish mining the Monolith.
- Yes, my Lord, - the monster bowed, casting a look at the girl frozen in one pose, but obediently strode toward the exit.
I knew how important the sacred ritual of destroying the enemies of their master was to my killers' culture. I felt Khem's triumph when he finished the Son. I felt his disappointment when I told him about Kira's mission.
However, I had to deal with the last part of this puzzle myself. It would be right.
Or am I just reassuring myself? What the Hutt difference does it make now. I need to finish the job and move on. The gestalt must be completed so as not to repeat itself again. A full stop had to be put in the history of the Celestials.
Who better to do it than the author of the plan to destroy their power?
Approaching the Celestial still sitting on the floor, whose glowing aura had faded and whose appearance had lost its former brilliance and luster, I crouched before her. The girl continued to look straight ahead, staring with a non-seeing gaze at the uniform surface of the floor.
Of the whole Family, I felt sorry for her the most.
Because she was a hostage to a situation she was used in blindly. She didn't have her own ambitions, unlike the Son. She didn't have plans for the galaxy, like her daddy and brother.
She lived, firmly believing that her parent was doing something good. She didn't doubt, didn't discuss. She only carried out his will.
- I'm sorry, - I must admit, I felt some guilt toward her. Primarily because I used what she told me myself. In a nightmare, one couldn't imagine oneself in her place. First she was used, and then all the members of the Family were slaughtered. Anyone would lose their mind from that. I don't know if she understood that I had no other choice, but...
For some reason, I wanted to justify myself at least a little to her. To explain why I acted exactly this way. And yet, no apology or expression of condolences will smooth over what happened today.
No matter how much I hated my stepfather, or was irritated by my mother's passivity, if someone had finished them off before my eyes and then tried to say to me, "Look, you know, don't hold a grudge, it had to be done for the good of the galaxy," I wouldn't understand him. And I would hardly be able to grasp his motives.
- Words mean nothing, - she said softly in that same chorus of voices. Only now, instead of the emotionless component, she spoke with such universal sadness that it tugged at the heart. - You proved that to me yourself today.
- It couldn't be otherwise, - a stupid phrase, of course. But the only one that even partially reflected my motives. - Neither Father nor the Son would have stopped...
- And you decided you would do it yourself? - she said with a joyless smile. - Destroy the last representatives of the oldest civilization in the galaxy. And what next?
- I'll return to the real world and continue my undertaking.
- Like a faithful dog, you'll finish Vitiate's plan? - she clarified.
- No. My Plan. Vitiate is little different from Father or the Son. Even if his motives aren't entirely clear to me, they still don't bode well for me.
- You should be careful, - the girl advised.
- I will be, - this promise escaped on its own. And fully reflected my mindset. Indeed, Mortis gave much food for thought. A calm environment was needed to finally put everything on the shelves and make strong decisions.
- Now it is my turn? - the girl asked tiredly, looking into my eyes. Universal sadness, deep disappointment, and the absence of any meaningful desire splashed in them. She had frankly lost the will to live, having experienced one betrayal after another. Before her eyes, the veils of ancient secrets were being torn away, forcing her to be horrified by what her closest sentient had done. Such a thing would break anyone—not just an ancient being.
- Unfortunately, yes, - I admitted, taking a relatively small device from my tunic. - You must understand: I cannot leave you alive. Even now, having lost most of your Force, you are still an extremely powerful being of the Light Side. I cannot allow an imbalance toward either side—neither Light nor Dark. For the same reason, Mortis must be destroyed.
- You will need something stronger than that, - she assured, nodding toward the object I demonstrated. - Mortis is a concentration of the Force. You won't take it with bombs alone.
- I know, - I admitted. - As soon as my ship leaves Mortis, I will call all the free ships of my fleet here. They won't rest until nothing remains of the Monolith that can be used against me and the galaxy.
- You will have to face Abeloth, - the Daughter reminded. - Without the Force of my brother and me, without Father as a counterweight, she will surely break out beyond the Maw, and then chaos will fill the galaxy.
- I have the Dagger of Mortis, - I reminded. - And knowledge of how she was defeated in the events known to me is also a great help. I will commit to fire everything that poses a threat to my plan—Abeloth, her planet, the Pool of Knowledge and the Font... No trace of the Celestials' existence will remain, except for legends and rare artifacts that my henchmen will hunt.
- So, we will sink into oblivion, leaving nothing behind? - the Daughter asked sadly.
- It's unpleasant to state this, but yes, - I felt a pang in my chest.
Even if this wasn't the first genocide occurring by my design, it was the first time I looked into the eyes of the last representative of a race I was condemning to oblivion.
- Do what must be done, - the Daughter said softly. - I don't care.
- I'm sorry everything happened exactly this way, - I said, rising to my feet, not particularly hoping for absolution. The lightsaber jumped into my hand on its own. My thumb found the activation button on its own, and the emptiness of the temple filled with the hissing sound of the activation of the traditional weapon of the gifted in this galaxy.
- I understand everything, - the girl assured me. - I hope you know what you are doing.
- I hope so too, - the admission came out awkward. Because there was no absolute certainty that I was doing the right thing and that success awaited me. In this galaxy, everything is unpredictable anyway.
A short swing of the yellow blade, and the decapitated body slumped onto the temple floor. Waiting until the pale glow emanating from the Celestial's torso finally dissipated and the spark of her life finally dissolved in the Force, I took a heavy breath and listened to my sensations.
The echoes of the Daughter's Force, scattering in space like raindrops in a fading thunderstorm, marked the end of the storm's fury.
Returning my property, which had performed its most extravagant purpose, to my belt, I silently strode toward the exit.
It's time to leave this damn planet. And if it doesn't collapse after the death of the Celestials, as happened in the animated series, I'll scatter it across the entire sector.
Did I act correctly?
Yes, most likely.
Could I have done everything differently?
Yes, but I didn't want to.
Will this haunt me until the end of my days?
Without any doubt, yes.
Will this stop me?
In no way.
It's about time to get used to the fact that all great deeds in this galaxy are accomplished by total bastards.
And not only in this galaxy...