Having politely parted ways with the archivist, Ayla looked around for a suitable table, and choosing one not far from the entrance, sat down on a chair to wait for company.
After the mission on Alzoc III, when she and Bly had retrieved a data recorder from a downed CIS frigate, she had returned to the Temple to report personally to the Council. Bly, like the other troopers of the 327th, had departed for their deployment location. As before, the "Star Corps" was once again far from Coruscant. Despite the fact that many other units of the Grand Army visited the capital, Secura's unit was "unlucky." Their home was always the Outer Rim territories, where her clones mercilessly crushed the enemy.
Just that morning, she had reported on the completed operation to Master Windu, and she was fully entitled to a few days of rest — a rule introduced by Master Rancisis after the Republic's defeat on Jabiim. Tired and drained, Jedi could finally rest after their missions. Of course, the clones never even dreamed of such luxury. Any breaks in combat they spent receiving reinforcements or conducting endless training. The soldiers created on Kamino didn't know what rest or free time was. Their life was war, and they wanted nothing else. No matter how hard Aayla tried to explain it to them.
Well, free time couldn't have come at a better moment.
When she learned that Master Dougan was also at the Temple, she rejoiced.
They hadn't seen each other for several months, and since then, the Twi'lek hadn't been able to speak openly with anyone. Luminara, whom she had wanted to bring along to Alzoc III, was unavailable, bogged down in the battle at Nexus Ortai. And if they had been together, they surely could have killed that crazed Zabrak with the vibro-axe who had dropped on her and the corps during the raid on the frigate. Many troopers had died, and, to be honest, Aayla herself had been on the edge. If Bly hadn't grabbed her and carried her away on his jetpack, she might have died. Like all those clones who stayed behind to cover her retreat.
It was sickening and bitter, that kind of salvation costing an entire squad their lives. And Bly's words that the soldiers had made that sacrifice to save their commander couldn't be sufficient argument. Yes, the clone commander was right — they could all have died there. But perhaps, at the cost of self-sacrifice, she might have rid the galaxy of one of Dooku's new weapons.
At the Temple, only the very youngest Jedi weren't discussing the new CIS assassin. The Zabrak, it turned out, before meeting Aayla, had paid a visit to the recently reclaimed Monastery. The result was a sabotage of the Separatist communications system and the deaths of many clones. The bodies of three Jedi had already been delivered to Coruscant, and a farewell ceremony would soon take place.
And among these truly awful pieces of news, meeting Dougan was like a ray of light in an impenetrable darkness. It took great effort for the girl not to contact him immediately upon learning of his presence on the planet. First, she waited to have a conversation with her friend, and only then tuned her comlink to the familiar frequency. Rick was also glad to talk and suggested they meet. Naturally, she agreed.
On the way to the cafeteria, Master Nu joined them, complaining to both Jedi about her new padawan. Rick remarked that the previous one hadn't been particularly diligent or docile either. Jocasta sadly told them she still hadn't been able to find Starstone's off switch.
Aayla was very surprised when, near the cafeteria, she encountered Rick's padawan with Ahsoka. Not that she wasn't glad to see them... But, to be honest, she had hoped that she and the man would have a chance to talk privately.
The Twi'lek was perfectly aware that she was crossing boundaries, but she couldn't help herself. She had managed to exchange a few words with Luminara, to whom she entrusted her deepest secrets without reservation. Including her infatuation with Vos, and Fisto's gentle courtship. And about Dougan's steadfast character, who stubbornly refused to notice that he had interested the young knight.
Luminara, upon whom the care of the 13th Sector Army had fallen during Dougan's absence, had still found a little time for secrets. She patiently listened to her friend. Was silent for a long time. Then, as if remembering something, she advised her not to play comedy.
"If you want my advice, Aayla, talk to him openly," the master shared her wisdom. "I don't know what his answer will be, but you'll definitely stop tormenting yourself with uncertainty."
"You really know how to cheer someone up," Secura frowned. "I almost burned with shame when I found out that the Council knew about the kiss with Fisto. Master Windu himself gave me a lecture. And after all that, Kit has the nerve to say he was just saving my life!"
Unduli's hologram rolled her eyes.
That story had caused quite a stir. During the Battle of Kamino, Aayla had managed to expose a double agent among the Kaminoan scientists. The latter had set battle droids on her, which nearly cost the Jedi her life. Wounded, she fell into the ocean and, exhausted, had no chance of swimming back up. But Fisto came to her rescue. The Nautolan could breathe underwater, and through artificial respiration, he managed to fill Aayla's lungs until she surfaced. Of course, there was nothing reprehensible in saving a comrade, even in such an extravagant way.
If only it hadn't happened after her beloved, Quinlan Vos, had defected to the CIS. Master Fisto had a rare ability — he could read the language of lekku, which allowed him to take advantage of the situation and grow close to Aayla. And only the bitterness of parting with Vos kept her from crossing the Code, something she had already been morally prepared for. And Fisto saw that. Oh, that treacherous lekku language! Like human body language, it had revealed the Twi'lek's most intimate desires. And he was ready to take advantage of it...
Only to her friend did Aayla confess that Fisto hadn't just been breathing oxygen into her lungs. It had been a real kiss. Full of passion and desire. And the most shameful part — she had given in to her nature and reciprocated.
But her heart was captivated by Rick Dougan. She never found the strength to explain herself to Fisto, and he still awaited a reciprocal step from her. A step she could no longer take.
She never learned who had exposed the secret. But rumors spread through the Temple that the kiss had had consequences. And if Fisto was merely hinted that he shouldn't break the Code if he couldn't keep things secret, she faced a real verbal bloodbath. Master Windu had never been known for patience or tact. He had scolded the Twi'lek like a little girl, making her feel ashamed every time she remembered it.
"Take my word for it," Luminara assured her. "Dougan can keep secrets as well as I can."
Aayla was slightly taken aback. Her uninhibited mind painted pictures of intimacy between her friend and the object of her attraction, which she immediately tried to forget. She wasn't ready for that. But she couldn't hide it from her friend either.
She had never heard Unduli laugh so hard.
"No, my friend, you're clearly mistaken there," the Mirialan said, wiping away tears as she stopped laughing. "Nothing of the sort."
"Then why did you think..."
"After signing the treaty with the Hutts, Jabba gave him two masseuses, Twi'lek slaves," Luminara lowered her voice slightly, as if afraid someone would hear her. "And Dougan naturally didn't refuse."
Aayla blushed. Born on Ryloth, she knew very well what it meant to be a Twi'lek. And what the duties of masseuses entailed.
"And...?"
"Did you freeze your brain on Alzoc III or something?" the Mirialan frowned. "Of course they spent several nights together. Though, I haven't seen them in a while. I think he freed them."
"Well," Aayla smiled awkwardly. "Thanks for the talk, Luminara. And for the advice."
"Don't you dare lose heart," her friend gave her a send-off. "Make sure you talk it out honestly. Really, you can't be worse than two slaves, can you?"
And now, instead of a private conversation, Dougan had first lingered to talk with the padawans, and now, with both of them in tow, was coming to her table. Just great, Rick! Understanding, you say, Luminara? Doesn't seem like it.
Meanwhile, the Jedi Master and two students well known to the Twi'lek took seats at the table. The man sat opposite Secura, with his back to the entrance. His padawan took the seat to his right. The little Togruta sat down to the left of the Twi'lek. Noticing that everyone was seated, Dougan gestured for a waiter droid.
"So, what will the lovely ladies be ordering?" inquired the expressionless mask, looking at each one at the table in turn.
Aayla chose a light dinner — despite everything, she preferred not to overdo it with calories. Code aside, one had to watch one's figure. She wasn't just a Jedi, but an attractive sentient.
"I think I'll have the same," Aayla didn't miss that the padawan, pursing her lips, cast an envious glance at her. The Twi'lek just sighed inwardly. Natural sexiness was an innate trait of the women of her people. And a toned body, though it came to every young Twi'lek, in the case of this particular Jedi Knight was the result of relentless training and fairly strict dietary restrictions.
By the standards of her people, Aayla hadn't yet reached the peak of her beauty, but she wasn't about to let herself go and lose what nature had given her in a couple of decades. Unfortunately, many women, even Jedi, envied her figure — such is the nature of all female representatives, regardless of race or species.
"And I'll have Alderaanian ice cream," hearing Skywalker's student's order, Aayla couldn't help but smile. "Snips," as Anakin called her, never restricted herself in anything. Simply because her youthful energy saw no point in it.
"Well, I won't say no to stewed nerf," Rick voiced his preference. As soon as the droid rolled away from their table, the man folded his armored hands on the table and looked at Skywalker's padawan.
"So, Ahsoka, what are you going to be punished for?" he asked casually.
Aayla mentally rolled her eyes. Had the girl gotten into mischief again? What's with the padawans these days?
Oli had nearly botched the flight to Ilum; Ahsoka wasn't known for a calm temperament either. How were they supposed to grow into worthy successors?
"I... uh... well, I made a rather tactless remark about a Jedi," the Togruta's face flushed. Although, Aayla herself thought that was impossible — after all, Skywalker's student had orange-red skin. Such bodily reactions shouldn't have been visible.
"About a Jedi?" Dougan asked in surprise. "If it's not a secret, who was it and what did he do wrong?"
"M-m-may I not say?" The girl was completely flustered. And the situation seemed to resolve itself, but then the man's own student joined the conversation.
"She was talking about you, Master," Oli's eyes sparkled with triumph. Apparently, the girl took some pleasure in seeing another padawan in such a situation. "Ahsoka said she doesn't like you because you're arrogant, insufferable, and act in a way that drives her crazy."
Alongside the Code, various generally accepted traditions existed among the Jedi — dogmas that members of the Order held sacred. These included the prohibition on starting a family, owning personal property, and entering into intimate relationships with other Jedi… Yes, to be frank, starting families was not encouraged at all. But as such, these customs were not a categorical ban, and many Jedi broke them. They just tried to do so in a way that didn't become public knowledge. Otherwise, the offender could expect an instructive meeting with the Masters. And there had been cases where Jedi were expelled from the Order for violating these customs.
Treating one another with respect was practically the Order's primary commandment. Essentially, any Jedi could think whatever they wanted about their brothers-in-arms, but as long as it remained their personal opinion, the Council had little interest in it.
It was a completely different matter when such things were done publicly. Oh, the Force, how much brainpower did one need to have to do something like that in the presence of the student of the person you were talking about?
"Is that so," Dougan said thoughtfully. He rubbed his chin with an armored glove, as if pondering something. A tense silence hung over the table.
The remnants of discipline kept Ahsoka from simply getting up and leaving the dining hall. With her words, she had insulted a Jedi Master who was her senior both in age and rank. If it had been Anakin in her place, he'd most likely have gotten away with it — young Skywalker was forgiven a lot.
His Padawan, however, did not enjoy such favor from the Grand Master.
"Well then, things are taking a serious turn," Dougan finally declared. Aayla realized the Jedi had reached some conclusion. She had no intention of interfering in what was happening — once again, ethical troubles were a personal matter. "We'll have to take measures…"
"Forgive me, Master Dougan," the girl looked imploringly at the Jedi. "I… I promise it won't happen again…"
"Cut the tears, Commander Tano," there was amusement in the Jedi's voice. "What's all this blubbering about? Storming Muunilinst — no problem, battle commander; but in the Temple — suddenly a little, defenseless girl?"
Now this was something completely new, Aayla thought. Jedi usually didn't act like this when someone insulted their honor and dignity…
"I… I don't understand, Master," Starstone frowned. "Aren't you going to look into this?"
"And what's there to look into?" the Jedi was surprised. "The young Padawan expressed her point of view. Well, commendable," after these words, even the instigator of the conflict herself looked bewildered.
"Ahsoka," Dougan said warmly. "Don't worry. I've heard worse opinions of myself. What, should I hold everyone accountable for their impertinent words? I'm afraid I have more important things to do."
"But I…" the student tried to interject again, but the Master cut her off by raising his hand.
"Alright, girls," Dougan drummed his fingers on the table. "The incident is closed. Oli, you did well keeping your finger on the pulse, and I commend you for that," the Jedi Master patted the girl on the head in an extremely comical way, like a pet. It was so endearing, so fatherly, that Aayla couldn't help but smile. "But only I get to decide how to handle this situation. After all, I'm the offended party, right, Ahsoka?"
"Y-yes, Master…"
"Well, excellent," Rick stroked the lower edge of his mask again. "So, what punishment should I come up with for the two of you…"
"Both of us?" Starstone was surprised.
"Of course," the Jedi nodded affirmatively. "Why didn't you report such valuable information immediately?"
"I…"
"No excuses," Rick placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and pulled her close. Aayla thought with slight envy that she'd like to be in her place right now. "I think tomorrow the two of you and I will go to Master Drallig and teach the younglings a few fencing lessons. Under the watchful supervision of the esteemed Troll."
"Oh, no," Ahsoka said dejectedly.
"Suddenly I don't feel well," Oli's mood instantly plummeted to zero.
Aayla silently applauded Dougan's tactfulness.
Without a doubt, he hadn't let the situation slide. And he had found a way to teach both fidgets a lesson.
Throughout the Order, Master Cin Drallig was known for his fanatical devotion to the art of lightsaber fencing. And there were very few Jedi he hadn't torn to shreds with his criticism. In his favorite caustic manner.
Which meant that the two Padawans, who had already gained enough independence in the war to forget some elements of PROPER fencing, would inevitably become the targets of his mockery. And they would undoubtedly draw the right conclusions from those moments of humiliation.
One — that she should keep her tongue in check.
The other — that no one likes a tattletale. Even if you do it for a good cause.
"Well, I don't care," Dougan declared. "Tomorrow at dawn — both of you in the training halls. Anyone I don't see there — you'll answer to me. Oli will be stuck with paperwork for the rest of her training — and no more new elements for your style. As for Ahsoka, I'll find something for her too. Skywalker doesn't like me, of course, but I think Obi-Wan wouldn't mind giving you a few lectures on Jedi ethics."
"I'm doomed," Ahsoka dropped her head onto her hands, which were resting on the table.
Oli stared blankly straight ahead, her lips pursed into a thin line.
A hilarious sight.
"So, any objections?" Dougan clarified. "Well then, it's settled."
"Could we have refused, or what?" Ahsoka lifted her head from her hands, looking at the Master. Oli just glanced sideways at her teacher.
"We live in a democratic state, after all," Dougan spread his hands. "Of course we could."
With a quiet groan, both girls now rested their heads on their hands.
Watching such a straightforward lesson, Aayla could only applaud the Jedi.
Meanwhile, the waiter arrived at the table with trays. The girls had no choice but to sit up and arm themselves with utensils. They looked dejected, of course, but Secura would bet it was just a show. They were both far from stupid and understood perfectly what was what. A couple of hours of humiliation in front of Drallig and the younglings was better than possible sanctions.
"Well, everything that happened at this table stays between us," the Jedi declared. There were no objections. "Good. So, everyone, enjoy your meal."
Both girls mumbled something unintelligible in response and attacked their food as if they hadn't eaten for days. Aayla just silently nodded at the man and focused on her own meal.
But curiosity got the better of her. She watched Dougan out of the corner of her eye. Or rather, his face.
A few weeks ago, she had overheard a group of younglings arguing — does Master Dougan eat with his mask on? Or does he take it off?
The aura of mystery around the Jedi was only reinforced by scattered reports from the front. It was rumored that he never, even among other Jedi, took off his mask. And that he ate separately from others. There were several theories as to why.
But one was particularly popular.
After a battle aboard a Republic Star Destroyer with one of Dooku's acolytes, the Jedi had been severely injured by Force Lightning. And his face was so disfigured that he had no choice but to wear a mask constantly.
There was some truth to this.
Kaila Omas, a friend of Aayla's and a Jedi healer who had worked with Rick twice, had told her in confidence that the man's body had indeed been badly damaged by exposure to the Dark Side. Of course, bacta and healers had managed to mitigate the damage to his body — restoring muscles, nerves, tendons, regrowing skin. But even after that, his entire body was covered in hundreds of scars of various sizes. Like a pale web, they enveloped his body.
But his head and face had suffered the most. His hair had been burned off almost completely, and restoring it was a long and painstaking process that not every Jedi healer could handle. And given that it wasn't life-threatening, Vokara Che, in her usual grumpy manner, refused to use healing crystals.
So, when the man brought his hands to his face and the mask's fastenings clicked, Aayla prepared to see a face disfigured by lightning.
But apparently, the Jedi had his own opinion on the matter. Without lifting the mask from his face, he pulled the hood of his robe deeper over his head, so that only the lower part of his face was visible — his chin, the tip of his nose, and his lips. The rest of his face was hidden in the shadow of the hood.
But even what she saw was enough.
His chin and nose were indeed covered in fine threads of pale scars, sometimes forming unimaginable patterns. His lips had several vertical scars — most likely where tears had occurred.
Dougan followed the Padawans' example and started eating. Slowly, as if trying to savor the taste of every bite.
Aayla didn't dwell on what she had seen, so she too focused on her food. However, the atmosphere at the table was broken again with the arrival of another member of the Order in the dining hall.
In a dark Jedi robe, with her shoulder-length hair loose, a girl, staring at a datapad, was slowly walking toward the table where their group was sitting. But at some point, the girl stopped and looked up. It took her a second to assess those sitting just a meter away from her.
Seeing the new person, Ahsoka waved at her cheerfully. After which, the newcomer sharply changed her original course and sat down at a table several dozen meters away.
By this time, there were almost no visitors left in the dining hall — a few Jedi sitting alone, and Master Nu. In a space designed for thousands of Jedi, such behavior from a Padawan was, to say the least, questionable.
"An acquaintance of yours?" Dougan inquired. Aayla caught herself still watching the brown-haired girl. She seemed vaguely familiar, but in the closed community of Jedi, that was common. Dougan's question, addressed to the young Togruta who had immersed herself in contemplating her empty plate, made Secura return her gaze to the company. To her surprise, Dougan had already finished his meal and was fastening his mask back in place.
"Sort of," Tano shared reluctantly. "That's Aubrie Wyn. We were together on Jabiim…"
No further explanation was needed.
Too few Jedi had been saved from that planet not to understand who the newcomer was.
A Padawan who had lost her teacher and all her close friends. After the remnants of the expeditionary force returned, Skywalker, Kenobi, Tano herself, and Wyn had spent a long time in the Halls of Healing. The massacre they had experienced had left its mark on everyone. But on this Padawan — more than the others.
Kaila had once mentioned that of all the Jedi she had seen, Aubrie was the only one who had come so close to the Dark Side of the Force. The time she had spent on Jabiim had literally burned out all the Light that had undoubtedly been strong in her. She had withdrawn into herself, and despite being physically healthy, she was still in shock.
No Jedi had dared to take her as a student. The fear of failure stopped everyone. There were rumors that the Council had even wanted to assign her as a Padawan to the Dark Woman — a known specialist in difficult Padawans. But even she had needed only a few seconds of conversation with the Padawan to make her decision. Since then, the girl had been staying at the Temple constantly.
She was often seen in the Archives or training with a lightsaber. But no one had dared to get to know her closely. Even the Assignment Council somehow avoided her when distributing "orphaned" Padawans.
"You all went through a lot there," the Jedi said quietly. "A sad page in the Order's history."
"It's doubly sad to see that no one is interested in the girl," Aayla added, hinting at her lack of a Master. "I heard she was an extremely capable student — an excellent healer. She even sparred with Master Windu."
"Yes, it was said she might one day join the High Council," Oli said.
"Something like that," Ahsoka grumbled.
"It's a great pity that such a valuable Padawan remains idle," Dougan declared. "But obviously, she's still fighting her inner demons. It's a shame she's alone in that battle."
"I tried talking to her," Tano admitted. "It feels like you're talking to a droid. She's… empty in the Force, somehow."
"Still, that's no reason to abandon her to her fate," Dougan said didactically. "Perhaps we should keep an eye on her…"
"Master?" Oli raised an eyebrow in surprise. Dougan glanced at her for a moment, then explained.
"We suffered significant losses at the Monastery. The Council has given me a quota for ten Jedi whom I can invite to join our army."
"And you want to invite her?" Oli looked from her Master to the Padawan, who was browsing something on her datapad alone.
"That's just a hypothesis for now," the Jedi shook his head. "Without her own desire, I can't recruit her. Those are the Order's rules."
"Sometimes rules need to be bent to get results," Ahsoka grumbled.
"And that profound thought isn't without logic, young Padawan," the Jedi acknowledged. "But Aubrie is far from the first candidate I'd like to have by my side."
"Really?" Aayla asked in surprise.
"Exactly that," she couldn't see his face, but she could swear the man was smiling. "What would you say, Knight Secura, if I offered you a place beside me on the battlefield?"
"I'd say 'not beside me and not on the battlefield'," Aayla mentally replied, slightly shocked by the question. But a completely different answer came from her lips.
"That's a great honor, Master Dougan. I see no reason to refuse. However, I'm used to Bly and the boys from the 327th Corps…"
"And I don't see a problem there," he was definitely smiling now. "I think Moff Vorru and Master Rai-Gol wouldn't mind exchanging units. I'm actually planning to go to Kamino to procure new batches of clones. If I can negotiate with the command of the 2nd Sectoral Army, I'll give them the new corps, and yours will come under my command."
"Is that possible?" Secura said doubtfully. Matters of high command had never interested her much. But hearing that commanders could exchange units like traders exchanging goods was new to her. And the feeling wasn't pleasant.
"Of course," Dougan assured her. "I'm a Moff, damn it, or did I just step out for a stroll?"
The confidence with which he said this resonated inside Aayla with a certain groan.
Before her sat a man vested with authority, a talented commander, and an excellent Jedi.
Twi'leks had always had a weakness for strong-willed men. Men who could act, not just talk. This stemmed from ancient times, when the head of the family determined whether a large Twi'lek family would eat that day or go to bed hungry. In the days before joining the Republic, one Twi'lek man could own several women, whose offspring were limited only by the luck and skill of the provider and breadwinner. With the arrival of Republic laws on Ryloth, the situation changed. And a society where women outnumbered men dozens to one had to adapt to a new life.
And millions of Twi'lek girls, in the prime of their lives, set off to conquer the stars and other worlds, becoming concubines, dancers, slaves. Any profession was good, as long as it meant not starving to death at home.
Now, of course, after thousands of years of integration into Republic society, the old traditions were no longer in favor, but communities that followed the precepts of their ancestors still existed. Dozens of children filled the neighborhoods of such enclaves, proof of an ancient rule — Twi'lek women only bore children from their husbands when they were sure the head of the family could take care of them all.
And looking at this man, Aayla thought bitterly that their species could not have offspring together.
* * *
Approaching his box at the Opera, the Chancellor maintained the cold expression of a man whose work was never done. And each new day brought only new problems.
Inside, however, the Sith was pleased with himself.
The war was developing according to his plan.
The Confederacy had inflicted several painful defeats on the Republic. The Jedi had responded with a symmetrical strike, the pinnacle of which was the conquest of one of the Separatists' key worlds — Muunilinst. The message from Anakin that Master Kenobi had finally suppressed the enemy forces on the surface warmed his soul.
Of course, this masterfully played game had not been without its unfortunate blunders.
The destruction of the Virulence had cost the CIS a great deal. And even the Republic warships that had been destroyed by its fire — which, according to Isard's reports, numbered over thirty — were not comparable to the loss of that ship. However, the Confederacy's shipyards would always find a worthy replacement for it.
The second unpleasant event was the unexpected string of victories in the "Iron Spear" army. The capture of Ukio, the exposure of Moff Bailur, the defeat of Grievous's armada at Bothawui, the Trade Federation fleet at Rodia, the subjugation of the Monastery, Nexus Ortai, Dessel… but all of this paled in comparison to the alliance with the Hutts.
He could not tolerate such a failure. Dooku had once again relied on his acolytes and had not succeeded. The result — for reasons unknown, the Hutts had agreed to a treaty that they essentially did not need. All of this, of course, didn't change the plan, but it would definitely cause many unpleasant moments in the future.
And yet, this alliance wasn't as clean-cut as it seemed.
The Hutts could defend their own borders themselves — the fleet of those disgusting slugs was equal to that of the three nearest sectoral armies. But for some reason, the Hutts had agreed to terms drafted by the Ministry of Justice in such a way that just reading them should have been enough for this gang of bandits to limit themselves to merely silent permission to use their hyperspace routes. Sheev had already familiarized himself with them and had found the necessary elements for the next part of his plan.
It was quite possible that Jabba, who had come to the forefront after the kidnapping of his son, was pursuing his own interests — only a complete idiot could believe in the good intentions of all these enterprises to save refugees and restore destroyed worlds. Undoubtedly, there was something behind all this facade, and Isard would have to work hard to figure it out. But Palpatine hadn't facilitated his rise for nothing. The entire might of Republic intelligence was now in the hands of one man. Pointless bureaucracy was slowly but surely being abolished — as it should be. The state apparatus must work like a well-oiled chronometer — otherwise, his plan would share the fate of the damned Republic.
There is nothing worse for a politician than contented citizens. Every victory only strengthened the Jedi's position on the galactic stage. Consequently, there was an urgent need to balance the scales of this conflict.
The Jedi must suffer significant losses. A full-scale offensive in the sectors was not enough. Yes, the army was bleeding, and the fleet was frantically dividing to cover the gaps in its area of responsibility.
Fortunately, the Chancellor had ideas suitable for a corresponding blow to the most sensitive spot of the Grand Army of the Republic.
Since the "Iron Spear" was so successful, it was they who would have to suffer a shameful defeat. Otherwise, the entire sector would soon be cleared of the CIS fleet. And that could not be allowed.
The longer and more terrible the war, the more questions there were for those waging it. Which meant that a lull in Master Dougan's area of responsibility could not be allowed.
Thank the Force that there were still senators for whom a few casually dropped hints were enough to fan the flames and create hysteria out of thin air. The Twi'leks with their occupation, the transfer of Geonosis to CIS control, the siege of Foerost, the massacre on Atracken — these battles were truly beautiful in their destructive glory. They had already cost the Republic many billions of dataries, and would cost even more. Especially when battles flared up across all the southern armies.
And the Sith knew which world was to become the next source of headaches for the Jedi.
The Senate Guards accompanying him tensed noticeably when a tall figure in black robes was spotted at the entrance to the box. Even without using the Force, Palpatine could feel the waves of anxiety emanating from the guards standing watch at the box. No, they were demonstratively serene, but inwardly they were collected and ready to use their weapons if this Jedi turned out to be an enemy.
"Supreme Chancellor," the figure bowed respectfully.
"Master Dougan," Sheev returned the greeting with just his lips. "I'm glad to see you, Moff."
"Thank you for the honor you have bestowed upon me," the voice from under the mask came out hollow, as if it belonged to a droid. "There's something to that," the Sith thought, assessing the Jedi's appearance. Completely clad in armor, detached from the world, commanding… Yes, decidedly, such a warrior in the service of the Empire would instill fear in anyone. An interesting concept. Perhaps something usable for the Sith himself could come from such an image. "Few are privileged to witness a performance by a troupe from Mon Calamari in the company of the Chancellor himself."
"Really, my dear General," Sheev smiled. "This is but a small way I can thank a successful commander. There are only a handful of Jedi like you. The entire success of the Grand Army rests on you."
"Thank you for your flattering assessment of my humble person," and along with the feigned modesty, Palpatine could feel that the seeds of his flattery had fallen on fertile ground.
"So that's it," the Sith thought. The Jedi needed outside approval. An interesting quirk. One that, without a doubt, could be used for his own purposes.
"Let's go inside," Palpatine smiled. "The performance is about to begin."
The Chancellor's personal box was located in the best spot of the Opera's amphitheater. Richly decorated, with a dozen comfortable chairs, it allowed everyone present to observe both the performance and the behavior in the hall.
The Opera had long since ceased to be a place for ordinary people. A ticket here cost a fortune, so only very wealthy people could afford to be present — industrialists, senators, prominent officials… Each of them hoped to earn the Chancellor's approval. After all, one could never rule out the possibility that Palpatine would take notice of you and bring you closer.
And the higher a sentient climbed in the government hierarchy, the better their life became. And in this galaxy, there was only one group of sentients that shunned even more greatness and power.
The Jedi.
And Palpatine noted with a certain triumph that hundreds of eyes turned to his box as soon as the armored giant took his place to the Chancellor's left.
A mixture of emotions — anger, irritation, envy, admiration… All of this was now radiating from all these ordinary citizens, the ordinary instruments of his power. Who, after tonight's performance, would become even more ambitious. And would be ready to do anything to earn his, Sidious's, favor.
The Jedi silently settled into his chair. Palpatine cast an appraising glance at him.
Relaxed, though still alert. And his entire posture indicated that he felt here not as a guest, but as a full-fledged master of this place. Quite strange behavior for a Jedi.
Settling into his chair, Palpatine leaned back when his ears caught the barely audible sound of the box door being unlocked. Interesting. It seemed the performance was starting.
Meanwhile, the master of ceremonies announced to the public the presence of the Supreme Chancellor at the performance, which inevitably triggered a burst of applause. Basking in the waves of admiration, Palpatine didn't forget to note those few who decisively ignored this tribute of honors. He would have time to settle scores with them later.
The crowd continued its ovation, but now it was also intended for the guest. No announcement was needed. The figure in the black robe and impenetrable armor was known to everyone who followed the news. General Dougan rose from his seat to greet those gathered.
But at that very moment, the slightly subsiding ovation gained new strength. This little trick of Palpatine's did not escape the Jedi Master. Turning his head slightly toward the Chancellor, he would surely have noticed another figure who, as always, tardy, had joined them in the box.
"Skywalker," the Master greeted his fellow Jedi. Although Palpatine couldn't use the Force to glean his guests' emotions right now, he watched the meeting of these two irreconcilable rivals with concealed curiosity.
The Master's star had risen on Kamino, where he had first demonstrated his potential. And there, he had somehow managed to get under Anakin's skin. The obedient boy had told his friend the Chancellor everything, and he had advised him not to pay attention to this upstart Jedi. After all, no one even came close to him, Anakin Skywalker.
And as practice had shown, that observation had been incorrect.
In strides measured in parsecs, Dougan was rapidly climbing the career ladder. Anakin, without a doubt, was also making progress — and not a little. But unlike this newly-appointed military genius, Anakin sometimes made mistakes, suffered defeats, which were ultimately supposed to break the Order's dogmas and lead him into the hands of Sidious.
Dougan, on the other hand... He was a Jedi, and therefore unquestionably an enemy. But an interesting enemy. Without a doubt, despite his average potential in the Force — about which, again, Anakin had benevolently told him — he was a very skilled tactician, a decent strategist, and quite adept in lightsaber combat.
Palpatine already knew the story of Dougan's miraculous return to the Order after several months of absence with a holocron of an ancient Jedi. He also knew about the sudden use of the Dark Side in the Petranaki arena.
He had already formed an opinion about this young man, and now he was merely reinforcing his pre-established viewpoint with facts.
The Jedi, though unaware of it, depended on external approval. However, the role of the person providing such emotional reinforcement was crucial. The more authoritative and high-ranking this person was, the more significant the reaction. And who could be more important in this galaxy than the Supreme Chancellor?
He had pulled something similar with Anakin. An unloved boy, suffering from unrequited love in the past without even realizing it, had placed himself directly into the hands of a Sith. And that was inevitable.
Still, why not use the animosity between the two Jedi to push his future apprentice further into the embrace of the Dark Side? He just needed to skillfully cultivate jealousy in Anakin. Show him a slight cooling-off and an interest in a new favorite. Demonstrate warmth toward him.
And the boy would step into the abyss so deep that the tiniest grains of Light within him would be extinguished.
"Master Dougan," Anakin's voice carried a hint of anger and confusion. Palpatine felt it clearly — he had never before invited any Jedi into this box besides the Chosen One himself.
All three sat in tense silence, watching the Mon Calamari aquatic spectacle unfold before them. As beautiful as it was technically complex. But wasn't that the very essence of art?
"Moff," — at the Chancellor's emphasis on his opponent's new status, Anakin flinched like a bantha unjustly punished by its handler. "I enjoyed your speech before the Jedi Council members. But are you truly confident that the ships you've allocated will be sufficient to accomplish the tasks?"
"If the assigned forces are used wisely, rather than as wastefully as some do," — oh, right, what an undisguised jab at the Anakin present here. Palpatine inwardly smiled, sensing how the future apprentice tensed up. Without a doubt, he knew that Dougan had conducted all his operations with fewer losses than Skywalker. And that couldn't help but stir jealousy in the young Jedi. "Then without question, we will prevail. If sector command permits, I would like the operation to be carried out by my subordinates — both clones and Jedi."
"Under your wise guidance, of course?" the Chancellor grinned. He noticed how the prosthesis on Anakin's right hand clenched into a fist. Simply wonderful.
"In that case, I will be confident of success," the Jedi Master said as if nothing had happened.
"The 14th Sector Army is outside your jurisdiction, Moff," Anakin finally couldn't hold back. Though he tried to say this in a neutral tone, undisguised malice was felt in his words. The boy was trying to put a more successful colleague in his place. Well, now let's play along with the other side.
"Anakin is right," the Chancellor sighed. Hearing this, Skywalker practically beamed. His good friend had taken his side! Oh yes, that meant a lot to him. "Ryloth and Geonosis are outside your area of responsibility."
"That changes little," Dougan shrugged. "The alliance with the Hutts was also concluded on Tatooine — and that's 'Red Tails' territory. The army itself isn't in the best shape either — by my estimates, they'll be licking their wounds for another three months. And the Separatist pressure on them isn't letting up."
"But haven't all the armies just recently received additional appropriations?" Palpatine frowned.
"And Moff Ravik's case still hasn't progressed," Dougan countered. "No ships, no reinforcements. Even the Jedi in his army are only temporary guests. Meanwhile, the clone units in my army, under the command of Order members, always achieve success."
Anakin snorted quietly. Of course, he was principled against it.
But Palpatine was intrigued by this Master's words. He had a vague idea of what the Jedi was talking about, but to agree to something like that...
Of course, Sidious could push any bill through any bureaucracy — his supporters made up the majority of all Republic officials. But such changes required solid justification; otherwise, beings might start asking questions. More than usual.
But the most interesting thing in the Jedi's speech was something else entirely. Not what he said, but what remained between the lines.
Honestly, Moff Ravik had suited Palpatine as long as things were "quiet" in his area of responsibility. He was forgiven much — failures, slave trading, bribes... As long as he kept the situation under control. If he could hold the territory, he might have lasted longer in his post. Now, as soon as communication was restored with the world where he was under siege with the remnants of his fleet, he would face Moff Bailur's fate: the courts would fleece him for bribes, trying to lessen his sentence. But the outcome would be the same — he would never see that man again. Perhaps Tyranus would find some use for him and Ravik in the Confederacy, like those slave-trading senators. But Palpatine was less concerned with that.
The Jedi had given him a "puzzle to solve." And before the performance ended, Sheev intended to solve it.
Isard had long since compiled detailed dossiers on each of the twenty, outlining the strengths and weaknesses of each. From the entire group, only a few stood out — as the most capable and least vulnerable. Trachta and Dougan. One — utterly devoted, extremely diligent, and terrifyingly competent. The other... For him, this honor had been granted — to find out who he really was. A worthy ally, or an enemy to be eliminated as quickly as possible.
And for now, Palpatine couldn't make a definitive decision.
Dougan was without a doubt an excellent choice for the position of Moff — if Palpatine weren't interested in exterminating the Jedi, a subordinate like this could render great service, cleaning up the filth of the Outer Rim. Of course, Anakin could also handle such a task — after he turned to the Dark Side.
But on the other hand, the territory of the 13th and 14th Armies contained worlds extremely valuable to the Republic: Kamino, with its clone factories; Rothana, with its secret shipyards and Kuat Drive Yards factories; Christophsis, with its truly vast resources flowing at bargain prices into strategically important sectors of the Republic. Control of the latter, in essence, negated all visible negative consequences of the failure on Jabiim. But they didn't help the CIS for free — their mines sold raw materials for astronomical sums. Christophsis, meanwhile, maintained market prices — but significantly lower than what the raw materials cost the Republic before the war.
And it was Dougan's victory that gave the Republic this world — before the Geonosis conflict, Christof had been a neutral system, having amassed considerable wealth as one of the worlds at the intersection of hyperspace routes.
Palpatine frowned.
And indeed, how could he have overlooked this. Dougan was undoubtedly useful. Especially his friendship with the government of the Christof system. It was no accident that Mace Windu had emphasized that thousands of ships were being produced on Rendili by order of Elder Aisel. And the Jedi was quite confident that most of those ships would end up in his hands. He intended to put the free ships to use, distributing the saved money to acquire new batches of clones and weapons.
"Master Dougan," Palpatine inquired quietly. "How many ships do you think Christophsis is ready to transfer under your command?"
The Jedi turned his mask toward him, as if intending to read the Chancellor's true emotions on his face. Not so fast, dear Jedi. Where you learned to know the Force, I was already weaving intrigues from the shadows.
Palpatine noted with an inward grin that, as he expected, the Jedi had tried to probe his mind with the Force. Oh, how presumptuous — none of the Masters had ever allowed themselves that, and here was some mere Master. But oh well, the Force Cloak worked flawlessly, so now the Jedi could only catch glimpses of those thoughts and emotions that I allowed him to perceive. What I needed him to know.
"I am aware of a thousand Hammerhead-class cruisers," Dougan said in a barely audible whisper. Oh, so he didn't want Anakin to hear this. Interesting. "Elder Aisel claims that another thousand Thranta-class vessels are being built at the same shipyards, but after the last battle, they are ready to transfer all the cruisers to my command — just to keep the Separatists from attacking them again."
"And what about the thousand corvettes that, as the Second Battle of Christophsis showed, are just as effective as our light cruisers?" Palpatine inquired. He was genuinely curious about the fate of an entire fleet.
"I have no use for them," Dougan admitted. "And unfortunately, they won't transfer their ships to anyone else in the Republic. Right now, Rendili is building both ship types in batches of fifty matelots. I think if my area of responsibility suddenly expands and I need additional forces, I can persuade the Elder to change subsequent Thranta-class orders to Hammerhead construction that would come under my command."
"Forgive me, but I don't see the rational kernel yet," Palpatine lied. "They still have an entire fleet of ships, almost cruisers."
"But we will have almost two thousand capital ships," the Jedi countered. "And crews of clones who answer to their command, not the government of Christophsis. And if so — if necessary, I can disperse this rabble — believe me, the last battle showed that the crews on those Thrantas are appallingly trained. And at the same time, the Republic will gain an entire fleet for two oversectors at the expense of one fairly wealthy system. As I said — I will spend the saved funds on acquiring clones. Their numbers, especially on the Outer Rim, should be increased — after all, the Hutts are right next door. Only the Force knows what might occur to them if Dooku promises better conditions."
"And you'll have a huge fleet and army ready to finally bring order to Hutt Space," the Chancellor finished for him.
"Exactly. Exotics... let's say, I don't strongly believe they're any better than humanity. But in secondary or tertiary roles, they could be useful."
Interesting thoughts this Jedi was voicing. Palpatine had found answers to all the questions he had. And he had formed his opinion of Rick Dougan.
No, he was by no means an obstacle. This Jedi was corrupt — Isard had reported to him about Jabba's gift. He was ambitious — and military service in the Grand Army was merely an opportunity for him to make a name for himself. And he didn't shy away from transgressing the Order's dogmas where necessary.
Palpatine allowed himself a smile. The man undoubtedly possessed the talent of a commander. And his idea of increasing the number of clones through savings on fleet purchases played into Palpatine's hands. After all, the more clones, the less chance the Jedi had of slipping away.
Dougan reminded him somewhat of the long-deceased Master K'Baoth. He had been a decent advisor and played his role. And when the need for him passed, he left the game board like any other pawn.
This Jedi, without knowing it, would render great service to the Empire. Without knowing it, he would ensure stability in the systems under his control at the decisive moment. Well, then, the question of the advisability of his further service would be resolved radically.
He just needed to confirm Dougan's loyalty now. After all, greater power corrupts. And the executor of Palpatine's will must be ready for any problems.
* * *
Perched on the roof of the building opposite, Cad Bane checked his weapons one more time — the heavy concussion rifle — and his escape routes. And, as before, he found everything was going perfectly.
The numbers on the chronometer had passed midnight by Coruscant standard time. So the wait wouldn't be much longer.
The performance had ended about half an hour ago — so the wait wouldn't be much longer. Everything was going according to plan — the one the employer had adjusted a few hours ago, right in the middle of preparations.
In other cases, the Duros would have refused the mission — it wasn't in his rules to carry out orders whose objectives changed mid-process. But the client had tripled the fee — and the credits had already been deposited into the mercenary's secret account. So he just needed to slightly modify his plan.
He didn't foresee any major problems, and if so, he saw no reason to turn down a whole pile of money. He just needed to tweak the scenario slightly. Fortunately, the client had taken care of the rest.
The Duros never questioned what goals his clients pursued. And that had always helped him survive — even on those rare missions where they later wanted him "taken out." With the money from this contract, he could buy himself a small planet in the Outer Rim and live comfortably for the rest of his days. But he wasn't going to do any such nonsense.
He still had strength in his hands and his brains worked fine — so there was no point interrupting his career. Maybe in five or ten years he'd need to think about retirement, but definitely not now.
After this job, clients would flock to him like nerfs to a watering hole. Though he'd never had trouble earning before, after this night, there was no point in dealing with small change.
He would surpass Jango Fett and become the highest-paid bounty hunter. And only after letting that achievement sink into his competitors' heads could he think about retirement.
But not now.
Spotting movement near a side exit of the Opera House through his monocular, he pressed his eye to the computer scope of his rifle.
So, a couple of "meat" in blue armor. Senate Guard. No trouble expected from them — they couldn't see past their own noses. Six more of their colleagues came out next. Aha, they were setting up the inner security perimeter.
No doubt there were outer guards too — those controlling the approaches to the building. Of course, the guards were worried about the Chancellor's safety. Sure.
Cad shifted the toothpick in his mouth.
Where did they even hire such "vegetables"? He'd taken out two sniper positions without the slightest noise, since they were operating completely autonomously. Didn't even use comlinks — afraid that potential assassins might detect and neutralize them. What idiots.
Now, this was what he needed.
Chancellor Palpatine, accompanied by two Jedi.
Of course, while their lightsabers weren't activated, an ordinary citizen wouldn't know who they were. But Cad was one of the best precisely because he knew his enemy better than the enemy knew himself. And to him, the identities of these two in black robes were no secret.
Meanwhile, the guards escorted the Chancellor and his companions to a luxurious, excellently armored hover-limousine. The escort vehicles were already in the air. But, as he had planned, by acting according to security protocols, they were thereby leaving the assassin plenty of loopholes.
Bane could only quietly chuckle at how, before the Chancellor's appearance, a couple of guards had inspected his transport for hidden explosive devices. Sure, look elsewhere, boys.
Without looking, he raised the control unit to his eyes. The countdown was now in seconds.
One of the escort vehicles took a position in front of the VIP transport, two more above and below. And three more behind. Perfect, all according to plan.
And now, the Chancellor was by his limousine...
Time.
The first explosion — under the belly of the escort vehicle hovering above the Chancellor's limousine — rained tons of metal down on the latter. That was it, that vehicle was now only good for the scrap heap. And the guards who happened to be nearby — for the morgue.
Look at them scurry.
Cad smirked.
Skywalker predictably ignited his weapon and was now looking around, expecting a ground attack. What a fairy-tale...
But the second Jedi was acting more professionally. Though he also had his lightsaber ignited, he was shielding the Chancellor with his own body, slowly retreating toward the Opera House doors, protecting Palpatine far more expertly.
Well, that wouldn't last long.
Cad held his breath for a second, catching Dougan's armored head in his sights. Shot. Then, slightly shifting the barrel, three more at intervals of less than a second. And another series — slightly higher.
Commendable. Excellent reflexes.
The armored Jedi parried the first charge. The munition, designed to disorient the enemy upon detonation, had the intended effect. His movements became slightly slower — he was definitely concussed.
The detonation of the series of munitions behind him nearly went awry. Dougan incinerated one of the projectiles with his blade, deflected another aside. The last of the first series exploded under his feet when he was a meter further than he'd been at the start of the attack.
The Jedi dropped to one knee, his weapon deactivated. But the air before him seemed to thicken — one of the projectiles from the second series caught the top edge of this Jedi defense and exploded, throwing the Jedi toward the destroyed limousine.
Skywalker, however, rushed to his place, still waving his Jedi toy around. A complete idiot. Did he really think a blaster attack would follow next?
The remaining charges from the second volley, as intended, brought down the entrance to the Opera House, cutting the people off from the safe building. Interestingly, Skywalker pushed the Chancellor aside, using the Force to hold back the permacrete shrapnel. Look at him, caring so much about Palpatine's safety. Sure.
So, now the remaining escort transports should create a screen... And there it was. Five vehicles clustered tightly, covering the firing sector from continued attack.
Well, idiots. Who told you it would continue the way you expect?
Bane noted with satisfaction that the armored Jedi was struggling to get to his feet. Staggering. Well, this one was tough. Not a single Jedi had died from concussion shell explosions — Mandalorians could vouch for that.
Time to finish up. In a couple of minutes, all of Coruscant's security would be here.
"Now," Cad commanded curtly.
Parasini, the only one he'd brought in for this job, did exactly as required — she arrived at the landing platform at the right moment on a speeder bike and began hosing down the survivors with hurricane fire from her blaster carbine. Wonderful.
As expected, Skywalker perceived her as the threat and charged toward her, leaving the area blocked by the transports. Such a predictably foolish Jedi.
Cad grinned and pressed the second button on the detonator control unit.
Five individually low-powered but devastating in their deadly symphony bombs, hidden in the remaining transports of the Chancellor's protectors, detonated. The shockwave should have shattered the bones of all survivors, and the multi-ton wreckage of the vehicles should have crushed what remained.
But things turned out quite differently.
The concussed Jedi, like a mythical giant, stood on one knee, projecting around himself and Palpatine a transparent barrier that, under artificial light, shimmered with sparks. The shockwave and the sea of fire that followed broke against it. The collapsed wrecks also caused no harm to the Chancellor and the Jedi. But Skywalker, realizing something was wrong, could only watch Parasini disappearing into the stream of vehicles. The young Jedi rose from the remnants of the landing platform and sprinted with all his might toward the Chancellor and his Temple brother.
Weaving between the burning transport wrecks, he didn't even blink when he saw Dougan collapse unconscious to the ground. He ran to the Chancellor like a puppy to its master.
Cad could observe through his scope the Chancellor's face, cut by shrapnel and dusted with debris, on which fear reigned. Then he shifted his gaze to the motionless Jedi. Though, the guy seemed alive — his hand was clenched into a fist.
Well, he'd done his job. Emergency sirens were already wailing in the distance, so it was time to withdraw.
He regretfully glanced at the unused rocket launcher. Maybe he should fire it now — surely there was no one left to deflect it; Skywalker was busy with something else. And the other one probably wouldn't survive anyway. Concussion grenades were excellent at breaking human bones and tearing internal organs.
But he hadn't been paid extra for that.
Cad walked over to his speeder, parked at the edge of the roof. He took one last look at the position he'd left, where two unlucky Senate Guard snipers lay frozen at the scope of the concussion rifle and monocular. And without hesitation, he initiated the countdown on the explosive devices hidden under the bodies.
When he was already a couple of blocks away from the job site, the Coruscant night was torn apart by a small explosion. Just enough to destroy any organic matter with its heat. But too weak to conceal the affiliation of the fake assassins' armor remnants.
Anyone investigating would come to the conclusion Bane had pre-scripted. He always got what he wanted.