The dirty-white hulls of the Acclamators soared upward, leaving behind the scorching sands and rocks of Geonosis.
We had won.
We were leaving the planet we had devastated behind, littered with mountains of corpses and the smoking hulks of wrecked machinery. In an instant, the Republic had shattered the shackles of pacifism that had bound it for the last thousand years, and with the brazen, unceremonious boot of a clone soldier, trampled the foundations of its own Constitution into the mud.
For the uninitiated — before the events at the Petranaki arena, the bankers and merchants, dissatisfied with the bureaucracy, predatory taxes, and other delights of democracy, had used the provisions of the Constitution and seceded from the Republic. With the help of the former Jedi — Count Dooku — the seceded worlds formed the Confederacy of Independent Systems — the CIS. Essentially a hastily cobbled-together sovereign state, of which Geonosis was a part. And the appearance of Jedi and Senator Amidala there could quite reasonably be considered an act of espionage…
But, as usual, without understanding the situation, the guardians of peace and order in the galaxy burst into the argument with a flying kick, shocking not only the Separatists with the appearance of an army, but also most Republic citizens.
The Separatists, whose alliance before the Republic invasion of Geonosis had been nothing but a mix of frightened bankers and merchants, suddenly bared their fangs in hatred toward the Coruscant government. Hundreds of planets were destined to become battlefields in the near future. Millions, if not billions of sentient beings, were doomed to perish in the millstones of big politics…
The Geonosis slaughter could only be called a victory with great stretch.
Yes, the Senator and one-tenth of the Jedi strike force, including myself, had survived. Formally, the Republic had won — the Separatist leaders had fled, the droid armies were defeated, the factories bombed, and now armored boots of Republic soldiers trod on the sands of Geonosis. The clone garrison was methodically burning out pockets of resistance among the natives who had not surrendered.
But, unlike most sentient beings in this galaxy, I knew that both sides of the conflict were being manipulated by one man.
Darth Sidius. Also known as Chancellor Palpatine. Also the former senator from the planet Naboo… A Sith dedicated to the goal of destroying the Jedi Order, destroying the Republic, and creating an Empire. A man whose worldview and ultimate goal became the prerequisites for the bloodbath destined for the galaxy for many years.
In destroying the Republic and the Order, Palpatine was not only trying to create a state capable of facing the threat of the Yuuzhan Vong — invaders from beyond the galaxy — but also fulfilling the ancient Sith dream: to exterminate the Jedi.
Jedi and Sith. Two sides of the same Hutt, time and again plunging the galaxy into wars due to the irreconcilability of each other's dogmas. A religion that originally included both the Dark and Light Sides of the Force had divided its adherents into two warring camps, dooming the galaxy to become a battlefield for ancient, implacable enemies. Both these factions had been exterminating each other for thousands of years, unable to accept the rightness of their opponent. And the more they were torn by contradictions, the more abundant the bloodletting across the galaxy.
"The Clone Wars have begun" Yoda's statement had never been more accurate.
The history of the far, far away galaxy, the Celestial River, is cyclical. Long periods of peace — essentially stagnation — are replaced by galactic-scale conflicts that, upon their conclusion, completely alter the balance of power in the GFFA. Jedi or Sith — it doesn't really matter who started the next conflict. The result, as always, was billions dead.
So it would be this time as well.
I lay on a bunk in the cabin assigned to me aboard the Acclamator, which carried nearly all the Jedi who had left Geonosis. Having changed into a clean robe, I lay on the hard bunk, my hands folded on my chest. Eyes closed, breathing even and measured. I was meditating. Very soon the ship would reach Coruscant, and my mission would begin. I would lie, kill, frame. I would do what needed to be done to put an end to the reigning chaos once and for all.
The Jedi…
There were about half a hundred of them on this ship. Concentrating, I could sense them. In the Force, they appeared to me as bright, warmly glowing flames that I wanted to reach for. But I couldn't do that. Not yet.
I never got to test myself in ground force command on Geonosis. In fact, I wasn't particularly eager. My only task was to save my own skin by any means from a stray blaster bolt or a Separatist missile. I was removed from the front lines by Grand Master Yoda himself, who noticed my already sorry state. Constant disorientation, nausea, and vomiting… Yoda chalked it up to the consequences of a chest wound and concussion, and kindly suggested I stay at the command post. Besides, under other circumstances, what kind of Jedi was I? I even managed to lose my lightsaber somewhere. And on that last point, Yoda did lecture me about how important it is for a Jedi never to part with his weapon.
So I observed the ground battle from the comfort of the command center. And while the clones and Yoda were successfully organizing the conversion of the droid army into scrap metal, I could finally catch my breath and think.
My knees were still shaking from what I had been through.
Unexpectedly, I had ended up in the universe of Star Wars. The prequel trilogy was in full swing. The Clone Wars had begun, and if my memory served me, it would last about three years. After that, one cunning uncle would say: "Execute Order 66," and in an instant, almost all the Jedi would die.
But damn it! All that would happen later. Right now, here, I could see all the famous Jedi and clones with my own eyes. Any Star Wars fan would give anything just to look at any walker or fire a blaster rifle.
So my joy was overshadowed by the fact that I couldn't understand why Valkorion had chosen to stuff my consciousness into the body of a dead Jedi. Was there something special about me, or was it all just chance? As they say, "Am I a trembling creature, or do I have the right?"
And the most important question. How was Valkorion's ghost connected to all this? As far as I remembered, the ancient Sith, who single-handedly, directly or indirectly, had turned the galaxy upside down more than once, had died about four thousand years before the present events. And more than once at that.
The struggle of the glorious Jedi against the forces of evil in the form of the most ancient and dangerous of the Sith, Vitiate — also known as Valkorion — is the subject of an entire online game. Unfortunately, that game never got a Russian localization, so I not only didn't know the exact story — I didn't even have a clue.
I couldn't boast any knowledge of foreign languages at all. That is, with a dictionary I could still manage to translate or say something, but reading the text in the game fluently…
It's worth telling a bit about my imaginary friend. And Teacher.
Valkorion, also known as Vitiate, also known as Tenebrae.
An extremely mysterious yet powerful figure in the Star Wars Expanded Universe.
In a galaxy far, far away, about four thousand years before these events, the Sith Empire attacked what was then still the Old Republic. The backstory of these events can be learned in the relevant computer games. Or on Wookieepedia.
But, closer to the point. The Sith Empire was led by Emperor Vitiate. A personality, I must say — scary as hell.
In life, you should fear two types of people — the strong and the smart. Well, Vitiate was smart. Also cunning, cruel, and immensely power-hungry. Taking advantage of the fact that the Sith, defeated in yet another war with the Jedi, were morally broken, he used them, dragged them to the planet Dromund Kaas, where he built his own Sith Empire.
Only, beforehand, he ensured his own immortality — he tricked the Sith Lords into participating in a ritual. And when the ritual ended — nothing remained of Vitiate's home planet but stones and silence. All life, all the Force of the planet and its inhabitants were locked in his body, absorbed by him. Are you beginning to imagine what power fell into the hands of a being that had studied Force techniques so terrible and powerful that few could replicate them? If ever the heir of the Rule of Two, Darth Sidius, and Emperor Vitiate were to meet in battle, I would bet everything on the latter. And something tells me that the latter would easily turn Palp into his bitch on a leash.
Emperor Vitiate set the Mandalorians on the Republic, wanting to test its defenses before the Empire's invasion. The Republic, with the expected result, got its ass handed to it on a platter by the warriors from Mandalore. And would have been completely crushed if not for Revan — a Jedi who took command of the Republic forces. He didn't just turn the tide of the war. He broke the Mandalorians' spine, humiliated them, stripped them of their heritage, and turned the once proud people into a band of aimless mercenaries.
Then Revan went into the Unknown Regions to destroy the Sith. But he returned as the Emperor's puppet, along with his apprentice Malak, once again beating the long-suffering Republic black and blue. The Jedi captured Revan, brainwashed him, and made him a weapon against the Sith in the form of Malak, not even suspecting the Sith Empire lurking in the Unknown Regions.
Stripped of his memories, Revan steamrolled through his former allies, Malak, and his own army. After that, he once again went to punch the Emperor in the face.
And lost again. At this point, it seemed like a facepalm. But no.
Of all the Jedi I knew, only Revan could turn a grand failure into a victory.
The Emperor, having bound Revan with Sith magic, was under the latter's influence for three hundred years and was in no hurry to attack the Republic. But at some point he still did.
When the next war between the Empire and the Republic began, the latter got its face beaten again, despite Revan having demonstrated the danger of carelessness three hundred years earlier. But this time, the Sith were truly magnificent. They attacked Coruscant — the Republic's capital — and utterly trashed everything, destroying the Jedi Temple and its defenders, thereby shaming the Order in the eyes of the entire galaxy. Most of the Republic's defenders were exterminated as a result of the war with the Empire.
The Empire's opponent received a resounding slap that was hard to recover from.
The Jedi shamefully fled to Tython — a planet in the deep Core — where they once again set about restoring their much-depleted organization.
Then all hell broke loose.
A new lover of doing good and justice was born — the Hero of Tython. His name is unknown, but his deed is immortal. A Padawan with extraordinary abilities had quite a romp in the galaxy, exterminating Sith and fallen Jedi, starting from Tython and the lower levels of Coruscant, all the way to the Sith Empire's territory. At the end of his travels, he reached Emperor Vitiate and on the second try (the first attempt ended with the Hero himself being captured and brainwashed) he offed the latter. Seems like profit, right?
It would seem so. But if everything were that simple, it wouldn't be Star Wars.
Vitiate is a smart bastard for a reason — he had aces up his sleeve.
Unlike Revan, who had known both sides of the Force, the Emperor had delved so deep into the depths of the Dark Side that he not only broke through the bottom of reasonable knowledge in the Force but also successfully laid the foundation to be called the strongest Dark Side adept in the entire existence of the GFFA.
The Emperor was reborn thanks to further complications in Revan's head. Vitiate, against whom both the Republic and his own Empire had united, once again found himself on top.
After creating the Sith Empire, he established the Dark Council from the most powerful Sith, while he himself stepped away from managing the Empire. What exactly the Emperor was doing all that time remained unknown. Until the moment when from Wild Space, armadas of the Infinite Empire of Zakuul — another creation of the Emperor that he had been working on in his free time from the Sith Empire — came crashing down on the heads of both the Empire and the Republic. As far as I remember, Zakuul brought both the Republic and the Empire to their knees, imposing exorbitant tribute on them. Among the notes about Zakuul, I also found that its inhabitants worshipped Vitiate, known to them as Valkorion. And don't think that they were all ruthless bastards, fit for their emperor. Something had changed in Valkorion. Instead of a merciless Sith, he revealed himself as generous, almost a model ruler. How he achieved this, whether it was a show for the public, or whether Valkorion had genuinely become better — I don't know. Apparently, the answers were in the corresponding expansion, which I never managed to complete.
But the end for Valkorion was the same as for Vitiate. He was killed, though this time — by his own son.
And then, again, according to texts on the Internet, Valkorion's spirit was killed by the Emperor's children and his first murderer — the Hero of Tython, who appeared in the sequel under the name "The Outlander." The reasons and details of all this remained a mystery to me.
On Earth, the internet often said that the Emperor was essentially the only one who had delved so deeply into the Dark Side that all Jedi and Sith before and after him couldn't even dream of it. Of course, if I had a choice, I would have preferred Revan to be involved in my arrival in this universe — the guy was more than sane, and he preached the path of the Unifying Force, which was more pleasing to me than the Light or Dark Sides. Still, no matter what I was, absolute evil, which Valkorion represented to me, was clearly not my thing.
But I had no choice. The Sith, so to speak, had already claimed rights to me, and I was hardly in the skin of a dead Jedi for no reason. And if I didn't know how global Vitiate's schemes could be, I probably would have even relaxed.
But unfortunately, I had heard enough about the Sith's attitude toward both people and the galaxy as a whole.
However, let's return to Geonosis.
I had appreciated the picture of Separatist war machines being trampled into the sand from the GAR landing force command post. Surrounded by faceless clones, in the company of Yoda, I watched as holographic boxes of droids crumbled under the attacks of the same boxes of clones.
As if hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and technological and scientific development had never happened, the opposing armies faced each other in formations that ancient Greeks on Earth had used to fight.
Ask, where is the development of military art? Where are the wonders of commanding space-age armies?
Well, there was none of that here. Separatists and Republicans faced each other in neat little phalanxes, line against line, grinding each other down with almost volley fire. They didn't seem to have heard of dispersed formation at all.
Losses bothered no one — not the Separatists, not the Jedi. Bravely but foolishly, the erstwhile guardians of justice brandished their lightsabers and charged into battle at the spearhead of the attack, leading squads of clones.
Almost immediately, volleys from the walking boxes of Separatist droids would cover them. But in place of a fallen clone, another would take his spot in the formation. Just as faceless, as rightless a hostage to his own fate as the droids marching toward them. Perhaps this was the origin of the dismissive and offensive nickname for clones: "Meat Droids."
In me, all this stirred anger. The Jedi, who preached life above all, were indifferent to the mass extermination of living beings. Sure, they were clones, but still!
"Grand Master Yoda!" I addressed the green one. "The closed formation of our troops is ineffective. The droids are simply slaughtering them! We need to break ranks so the clones can act in a dispersed manner!"
The head of the Order thought for a moment, then looked at me with a piercing gaze.
"Your words have their reason, young Knight!" Following this, the Cheburator passed an order to the clone commander to change formation.
I can't say if this had any effect on reducing losses among the clones, but personally, I felt easier in my heart. At the very least, I had done everything that depended on me at that moment. Whether they would implement it in practice, I don't know.
However, a thought had matured and taken root in my mind: the military art of the Far, Far Away lacked the elegance and scope that was inherent to Earthlings. Of course, I could be wrong, and the unfolding scene before me was merely the natural result of a millennium without wars.
Speaking of unfolding scenes.
The giant meatballs of the Trade Federation ships leisurely, like lords at a social function, rose upward from their landing berths.
The huge, turtle-like Republic artillery installations stung these giants with snow-white beams of plasma, though without much result.
"We need to concentrate fire on one ship," despite the weakness that plagued me, I got up from the bench I was sitting on and approached Yoda and the clone commanders. A face hidden behind an impervious helmet with a polarized visor stared at me, then at Yoda, who almost immediately nodded to the soldier.
The clone immediately rattled something into his comlink, causing the nearest guns to start pouring fire into the nearest "ball." First volley, second… And then the blazing space sphere plummeted to the ground, raising a cloud of sand and dirt.
"A good idea, Knight Dougan," Yoda praised. "Your ideas are effective, mm."
"Thank you, Master," I smiled, immediately wincing from the overwhelming sensations.
The pain in my chest flared up again. And behind it, my head. With a groan, holding myself by the back of a chair, I slid to the floor.
"Medic needed here!" Yoda commanded.
The next second, one of the clones ran up to me and began busily rummaging through an army first-aid kit.
They injected me with some kind of painkiller, and I realized that my consciousness was leaving me. So I lay there until the end of the battle, and then it was the ship's medbay, where they patched me up and sent me to my assigned cabin to recover.
Reaching the bunk, I collapsed onto it without undressing.
"This was the lousiest day," I muttered with a slurred tongue.
I didn't even notice sleep overtaking me. But instead of oblivion, which I had hoped for, I plunged into the memory of my meeting with the Emperor's ghost.
* * *
"The body has accepted a new personality," the Sith said with the air of an experimenter, looking me over. "I admit, this is even interesting."
He stood before me — majestic, monolithic, indestructible. The ideal of power and might. He was unconcerned by the frozen clones and Jedi around us. His entire demeanor made it clear that he was the master of the situation. And no one else.
I suddenly felt the accumulated pain in me recede, and I could move around the compartment with extraordinary ease.
"Did you do this?" I managed to squeeze out. "You brought me into this body?"
With an expression of compassion (or was it boredom?), the Emperor looked at me.
"If you know anyone else who cares about you, speak up, don't be shy."
I had nothing to counter that, I admit. In my home world, I was of little use to anyone except myself. And in this universe… I doubt anyone even knows about me.
Noticing my silence, the Sith continued.
"Why me? I mean, I died," I reminded. "And why now? Why this time?"
"Your life or your death means nothing to me, human," Vitiate spelled out. "But your way of thinking… interests me. Thanks to me, you are here now. And since I have done you a service and given you the right to a new life, you will serve me."
"I am grateful to you for this opportunity," I hastened to say. And then, catching myself, I added. "For my new life. But what do you need me for? I'm not a Jedi. I haven't been trained…"
"All that doesn't matter," Valkorion said lazily. "Everything can be achieved. The main thing is to clearly understand that everything has its price," the Sith continued, gesturing for me not to interrupt. "This galaxy belongs to those who don't know how to rule it. Neither Jedi nor Sith realize their purpose. It's time to end this."
"Exterminate the Jedi? Is that your plan?" It was clear he hadn't stuffed me into a dead Jedi's body for the sake of conversation. But if you think about it… what else could a Sith dream of? Power, elimination of rivals…
"Don't think so trivially," the Emperor waved off my questions. "We must fix this galaxy. All these petty wars are merely children's games. They were useful while the galaxy was developing. But now it is in a process of stagnation. Neither Jedi nor Sith can stop that. Therefore," the Emperor smiled. "You and I will take care of this. Teacher and apprentice. My knowledge and experience will help you break the Jedi and Sith shackles and become the beginning of a new, better world. For everyone. But that is in the future," the Emperor's red-orange pupils seemed to cloud over. "Until you gain control over your body, you are useless. I will help you with that." The Emperor covered the few steps that separated us and grasped my head with both hands. At that same moment, a blue-violet shroud enveloped me. And my head felt as if hundreds of needles pierced it.
How long this went on, I don't know. It seemed like an eternity as the Emperor's power tore apart every molecule of my body. I wanted to scream, but couldn't — my voice wouldn't obey me.
Hundreds and thousands of images flashed before my eyes. Places, events, rituals, Force techniques, languages, and humanoids… My mind was downloading new information, so fast that I couldn't keep up to understand or realize it.
Finally, the Emperor removed his hands from my head. Peering into my tearing eyes, he smiled with satisfaction.
"Rest should help you establish the connection between your mind and the body you have received," the Emperor stepped away from me. "After this, you will be whole."
"The Jedi…" Through the pain I could barely breathe. "They'll realize I'm not him…"
"Oh, don't talk nonsense," the dead Sith waved me off. "My Force is greater than any of them can imagine. Soon you will absorb the knowledge of the body's previous owner. You will need to adapt them to yourself — training will be required. But you shouldn't practice them until you restore the basic techniques."
"You destroyed the missile with a Dark Side technique," I reminded. "The Jedi won't let that go unnoticed."
"Amusing," a smirk appeared on the Emperor's face. "You are still as cautious. But that's empty. More sentient beings die on a planet in a minute than can be noticed. The Dark Side here is as well hidden as a Sith in the Republic Senate. Concentrate on your concealment, and your thoughts, your Force, will remain a secret to everyone."
I understood the implication. Palpatine, a Sith Lord, had been living and actively scheming in the galaxy right under the Jedi Council's nose for many years. Moreover, right up until the very end of the Clone Wars—which began with the invasion of Geonosis—the Jedi never discovered his true identity.
"Aayla Secura," I pointed at the Twi'lek. "She was just steps away from the missile. She should have sensed it." Objecting to the Emperor was the height of disregarding my survival instinct, but a sixth sense told me the Emperor intended to leave me. And being left alone with Jedi who would have hundreds of questions was the last thing I wanted. At least not without my Master's guidance.
Valkorion approached the blue-skinned Twi'lek, studying her closely, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe in a measuring look.
"Kill her, or recruit her if she witnessed it," he shrugged. "She's not important."
"As you command, Master," I bowed my head before the ancient Sith.
"After the battle," the Sith continued, "you will go to Coruscant and remain there until further notice. Acquire a ship. Light, maneuverable, untraceable."
"Why?" The pain from my brain began to fill my spine, making it almost impossible to move. I stood frozen like a pillar in the gunship, just like the clones around me.
"After that, I will contact you again," the Sith shifted his crimson gaze to me. "Soon you will gain control over this body, and the memories of this body should return to you. Not all of them, only those I deemed necessary. And do not argue with me again."
The intensity of the pain and paralysis suddenly vanished, causing me to fall to my knees before the Sith.
Taking my chin in his hand, he looked into my eyes, sending chills across my entire body.
"You don't think your soul is the first one in this body, do you, human?" In the Emperor's eyes, I could see an endless darkness surrounded by the hellish flames of his irises—the darkness from which my consciousness had been torn into this universe. "The other one… he proved less useful than I had hoped. He disappointed me again. But no one is irreplaceable to me. If you disappoint me, I will replace the rider in this body. But do you want to sink into oblivion, my child?" With these words, the Emperor dissolved into the air.
At the same moment, the world came back into motion.
"Knight Dougan!" The Twi'lek rushed to me, helping me up. "Are you alright?"
"The missile…" The pain in my head still made it hard to speak. "Took all my strength…"
"Did you do that, sir?" The nearest clone helped me to my feet. "I thought we were done for. Then there was this light, and it just disappeared!"
"Don't mention it," I said through a cough. The planet's scorching atmosphere seared my throat. They helped me sit down on the floor at the far end of the cabin. Leaning my back and head against the gunship's hull, I looked into Secura's anxious, caring eyes.
"You are truly an astonishing Jedi, Knight Dougan," the sensual alien woman shook her head. "And how many such unusual techniques do you know?"
"I know a few," I nodded. "You were at the top of your game too, Knight Secura!"
"Oh!" was all the Twi'lek managed to say, her brow furrowing in thought.
I felt her reaching out to me with the Force, and instinctively recoiled from her. At the same time, I felt an invisible barrier spring up around me, instantly blocking the rays of Force emanating from Secura. The girl immediately stopped scanning me, mumbled something, and moved to the other end of the compartment.
"Approaching the command center," the pilot relayed over the radio.
With a splitting headache, I got up, ready to face the next episode of the grand Sith plan.
* * *
WHAT THE HELL?!
I opened my eyes with irritation and sat up on the cot.
The memories of my first—and so far only—contact with Valkorion stirred up serious anger within me. My pride screamed at me that I shouldn't let him treat me like this. Focusing my will, I forced my ego to quiet down. You can't go charging at a tank with your bare ass. They might just kill me. And in my case, quite brutally.
But the anger still demanded an outlet. Thanks to the mental shields I had intuitively erected during my conversation with Secura, I could close myself off from others without worrying about the Jedi sensing something wrong with me.
What is wrong with this damned galaxy, where every killed—but sufficiently powerful and cunning—Force adept can return to the land of the living? And the most important question—what is all this for?
What goal is Valkorion pursuing that he needs an accomplice from among the Jedi? And not just anyone, but me? How could an ordinary man, insensitive to the Force, interest a powerful adept of the Dark Side? Why such a complex symbiosis—a Jedi's body and an ordinary man's mind? Riddles, riddles, riddles everywhere…
Valkorion made it perfectly clear—either I'm with him, or he'll replace me. Given that I definitely died in my own universe, and my will to live hasn't been taken from me, I'll have to shelve the suicidal option. And bend the knee to the Emperor. Though, it seems I've already done that.
But why he simply wouldn't take a new apprentice instead of the real Dougan remained a mystery to me. Afraid the Jedi will expose him? Unlikely.
Afraid of the Sith? Not even funny.
I spent the remaining time before Coruscant in my quarters, occasionally going to the mess hall for meals. I didn't want to see anyone or show myself in my frankly shattered state.
The more I rested, the more I "remembered." My consciousness seemed to fuse with that of my predecessor. Our memories intertwined, acquiring the properties of a monolith.
Memories related to my training at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant flashed into my mind. Meditations, exercises with a training saber… Reliving these moments of the past over and over, I was surprised to find that I could consciously replicate some of the Force techniques I had "remembered." Not like with the mental barrier—which I just pulled from my memory out of sheer fear. No, now I understood exactly how to channel the Force to use a particular Force technique.
A few hours aboard the Acclamator, and I could already move objects around the room, and without any effort!
My joy knew no bounds! To hell with the problems of the past! To hell with Valkorion and his plans!
I'm in Star Wars!
An idiot's dream come true. Every fan of this universe would kill to be in my shoes! Feel the power, move a few objects… Ah, it's a shame these positive moments didn't last.
As far as I remembered, all the Jedi who survived Geonosis were assigned to the Grand Army of the Republic. Valkorion had mentioned it too… So I'd have to lead clones…
Why couldn't I have ended up in a time when the galaxy far, far away wasn't gearing up for a massive Jedi purge—which I, by the whim of an ancient madman, had become one of? No, the fact of ending up here I could maybe accept without psychological trauma, but knowing that I owe it to Vitiate… No thanks! Something's clearly off with the logic here!
The mere fact that the Emperor had been killed twice, created two empires that brought the GFFA to its knees, yet still exists and is hovering around somewhere—isn't that proof that he at least knows more than the entire Jedi Order combined? Maybe I should hold back my squeamishness and paranoia and listen to him?
Don't get me wrong—I'm not a bloodthirsty monster, and I'm not going to conquer the galaxy. I'm more of a supporter of the Unifying Force; Revan's path is dearer and more appealing to me than the Dark Side. But refusing a free source of information about the Dark Side—no way. I won't refuse. Decision made. Especially since, from the Emperor's speech, I gathered that he has some different view of the Force. One that doesn't fit the dogmas of the Jedi or the Sith.
A preliminary plan had already formed in my head like a puzzle.
I needed to seek knowledge—about the Force, about the world in general, about people, and especially about the key figures of this galaxy. Information is power. And handled properly, it can grant no less authority than a fleet of ships or a legion of clones. I needed to make myself a significant figure in the galaxy, so that getting rid of me wouldn't be so easy. Say, Palpatine, playing both sides, set his nets so cleverly, courted politicians, the military, and commoners so skillfully, that no one ever suspected the destruction of the Jedi was a premeditated plan.
My knowledge of the GFFA expanded universe told me that in this galaxy, you wouldn't get lost if you were smart and cunning enough. And the right connections and position would help me come out on top.
It was too early to jump to conclusions about whether events would unfold according to canon or take a different path. The bet on Valkorion had already been placed. And I should stick to the intended course. As long as it aligns with my goals.
After all, the path of the Dark Side is deception.
* * *
Sitting in a taxi taking me to the Jedi Temple, I admired the views of Coruscant, which until now I had only known from pictures and videos.
What can I tell you about Coruscant?
That it's enormous? Awe-inspiring?
I'm sure you already know.
What impressed me far more was the feeling that this city was like a quicksand bog, sucking you in, enveloping you, dragging you down to the bottom… The initial joy of being part of a legend began to weigh heavily on me…
But even with all this unpleasant feeling, I couldn't deny that the capital commanded respect—first and foremost, respect for those who, millennium after millennium, had built this city with monumental structures.
I declined Secura's offer to get to the Temple in a Jedi transport, saying I needed some time alone.
In truth, I needed to sort out my thoughts. Or rather, those memories that had become accessible to me thanks to the synchronization of my mind and the host body, which I had already grown accustomed to thinking of as my own. After all, if I'm moving this body's arms and legs, isn't it mine?
Valkorion's advice helped. By the end of the journey, my consciousness had taken root deep within the host's mind, and I could no longer perceive myself as separate from the body. Although the full picture of the past life hadn't yet come together—memories hit in fragments, in waves, not always in chronological order—I still managed to form some impression of my body's former owner.
I am Rick Dougan, Jedi Knight. Human. Born in the Unknown Regions, on a remote little planet that doesn't even really have a name. Found and brought to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant by Master Douda Abhira. I am twenty-seven years old, sentient, without any modifications like six fingers, three nipples, crooked ears, or two… hmm, well, who knows, maybe the last one isn't such a bad option anyway. Right, I'm taking my thoughts in the wrong direction.
All in all, I'm the most ordinary Jedi explorer, whose lot is to traverse the space of the Galaxy Far, Far Away in search of new planets, races, hyperspace routes, and everything else uncharted and unexplored. More precisely, I was a Padawan of a Jedi explorer. But, due to the latter's demise, I came to the Temple, passed the rite of knighthood, and joined the ranks of the Knights, hoping to continue my mentor's exploration mission.
But still, what the hell was I doing on Geonosis? you might ask. And you'd be right. I'm wondering the same thing.
The Jedi Temple on Coruscant… didn't impress me…
Not at all.
I thought that now I would feel the Force, it would take my breath away, I would feel reverence…
But no.
Well, I did feel it, that reverence. But it was dim, cold, unpleasant. Like looking at a dilapidated monument to some prominent figure. And you can't remember who he was…
Once, the Temple was filled with hundreds and thousands of Knights, Masters, and Grand Masters, mighty in the Force. Their Force had soaked the Temple for thousands of years, filling it with a unique aura that had now faded against the level of modern Knights and Masters. So to speak, the Jedi of the past had created a halo of greatness around the Temple, an aura that, while still holding its outlines, now had a poor filling.
Slowly stepping up the age-old stairs of the Temple, I unhurriedly approached the monumental structure. Just think of it, I'm walking the same path as Vader and his 501st Legion…
Step by step, I climbed, digging through the back alleys of my memory. The main entrance to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant had been built approximately 4,000 years before the Battle of Yavin.
The steps of the Main Entrance ended at a spacious platform, flanked on both sides by two pairs of Jedi statues: two Jedi Consulars and two Jedi Guardians. Passing them, I came directly up to four monumental pillars, three rows of which separated me from the Temple's interior.
Two Jedi Guardians approached me. Clad in snow-white-cream armor, with lightsaber pikes at their belts, their faces hidden behind identical metal masks, they came up to me and politely asked if I needed help.
"Thank you," I said as politely as possible. "I can manage on my own. Wounded after Geonosis, you understand."
Nodding, the Guardians hastened to leave, as solemn and sedate as they had approached.
Exhaling, I once again checked how my mental defenses were holding up, and stepped under the Temple's arches.