The surrounding darkness, despite expectations, felt like an old, good friend.
It cradled, enveloped, and for the first time — warmed.
After everything I'd been through, the darkness no longer seemed terrible, frightening, or repulsive.
I stood in an indeterminate void, surrounded by an impenetrable substance I couldn't touch. And at the same time — I was aware of myself. Every particle of my body.
A strange, and at the same time, thrilling state. One I shouldn't stay in for long.
"That was reckless," a voice sounded behind me. Willful, demanding. Goosebumps ran down my body — it felt as if thousands of voices had spoken that phrase simultaneously.
"Good to see you, Master," turning, I dropped to one knee before Vitiate.
As usual, in the guise of the Emperor of the Eternal Empire, he stood with his hands behind his back. His gaze was fixed on something behind me. As if he were observing what was happening through the darkness.
"Under other circumstances, the feeling would be mutual," the Sith replied. "BUT now, when you're on the brink of life and death..."
."..The plan is closer to realization than ever," I finished.
The ghost looked at me with some surprise. And — with sly interest.
"Frankly, I thought the contents of my head weren't a secret to you."
"After the victory over the acolytes, I didn't think you still needed constant supervision. It seems I was wrong."
"Not at all, Master. Everything went exactly according to my plans."
"Was the coma part of them?" The Emperor raised one eyebrow. That gesture made me somewhat embarrassed.
"Not exactly. I expected Palpatine to try to test my loyalty somehow, but not this harshly... He outsmarted me there. But with your help, I'll return my consciousness to my body and continue my mission."
"That Baneite spawn is strong, cunning, and immensely cruel," the Sith reminded me. "Don't delude yourself about him. The sophistication of his mind is in no way comparable to your own capabilities."
"But only by getting out of the coma can I find out whether I succeeded or not."
"Don't risk yourself in vain, apprentice," Valkorion advised. "That's what you have the Hands for."
"None of them can worm their way into the Chancellor's confidence," I objected. "And judging by his reaction, he's interested in my proposal."
"Tell me."
'However,' a thought flashed. 'Why don't you just look at everything in my head? Don't want to? Or can't?'
"Palpatine didn't invite me to the meeting for nothing. He needs to understand who I really am. A truly valuable resource or just a lucky dogmatist. In the first case, he'll do everything to facilitate my rise and push my proposals through the bureaucrats. In the second — an unworthy burden that needs to be disposed of a little later."
"Hmm... reasonable," the Sith commented. "Are you sure he didn't see through your manipulations?"
"For a deeper analysis, he would have needed to open himself up in the Force. And all my proposals are beneficial to him first and foremost. To carry out a small reorganization to elevate a worthy and extremely loyal general. To bring him closer, shower him with attention — and Skywalker will be beside himself trying to please him more than me. Since order has been restored quickly enough on the territories under my control, it would be perfectly logical on his part to place another oversector under my command. He can come up with any justification for that. What's more important — by controlling the Outer Rim territories and Hutt Space, I can increase the number of clones, which will allow me to get rid of the Jedi in those sectors even faster. Well, and the fleet received as a gift from Christophsis, under the control of those same clones — a nice bonus."
"And if he goes for it, you'll have two strategically important worlds under your control," Valkorion narrowed his eyes. "Kamino and Rothana. The factories producing clones, destroyers, and equipment. When the Jedi Purge begins, taking them under your control will be even easier."
"Kamino is already in my pocket," I grinned. "And what I know about Rothana... Absorbing the territory of the 14th Sector Army will give me the opportunity to study their defense system — say, under the pretext of improving it. And then, the operation to conquer it will go faster than previously planned."
"And saving Palpatine from a 'sudden' attack will give him reason to consider you loyal to him personally?" A smile appeared on the Emperor's face.
"At least — that's the calculation. He knows how to appreciate his subordinates' merits. I don't think he'll ultimately decide to spare my life as part of his Plan, but I don't particularly care about that."
"A risky game," Valkorion stroked his chin. "But, nevertheless, justified if successful."
"Glad you approve."
"But don't neglect your own safety," the Sith's admonition came out threatening. "In this state, you could easily be exposed — without mind control, all your defenses are just a fiction."
Now that was unpleasant news.
"Does that mean my disguise is blown?"
"No. I noticed you in time and managed to cover for you. Right now, the Jedi are busy with your physical healing — they've even brought out the Fire Crystals. A valuable artifact, by the way. My powers are great, but you shouldn't linger in this state. After our conversation, I'll return your consciousness to your body."
"Where are we, by the way?"
"In the Abyss," the Sith said in a level voice. "Or Hell, whichever you prefer to call it. The dwelling place of dark Force entities. All Sith end up here after death. It took great effort to keep your consciousness from merging with the Force."
"So I died?" I had to forcefully swallow the lump that had risen in my throat.
"Yes," the Sith seared me with an icy gaze. "You should be grateful to me for saving your consciousness a second time."
"I am, without a doubt, deeply in your debt. But since we can speak freely now, Master, I have a question for you."
"Are you sure you want an answer?"
"Yes."
"Then ask."
"I had a vision of that past life of mine." I hadn't thought one's lips could go dry in the afterlife. "And I saw you — at the very beginning of my life. How is that possible?"
"Nothing is impossible for the Force, apprentice," Vitiate chuckled. "Or did you think I just picked the first soul that came along to replace your consciousness? No. You are the result of long observation. And if you fail — another candidate, just as carefully selected, will take your place."
"I understand." I had to swallow another lump in my throat. "But then he'd have to start everything from the very beginning — control the increased midi-chlorian count..."
"Limited Jedi drivel," Valkorion said angrily. From his tone, this subject clearly irritated him. "The Order understands the Force about as well as a man drinking water can taste it."
"But water has no taste..." I objected, then caught myself, realizing what the ghost meant. "Then what are these midi-chlorians?"
"Microorganisms that inhabit all living things in our galaxy. The Jedi, upon discovering them, decided that their blood count reflected an adept's greatness in the Force."
"And it doesn't?" I frowned. It seemed I was about to have my worldview shattered.
"Only your mind and willpower determine your limits," Valkorion said didactically. "Every living organism has its own reserve of the Force that can be used in the moment. And that reserve inevitably increases through special training or manipulation of large volumes of the Force. Midi-chlorians are parasites that live off contact with the Force. The larger the reserve, the more of these organoids there are."
"Aren't they symbiotic with their host?"
"No. They absorb a microscopic amount of the Force but give nothing in return. Though, if you consider it useful that they help identify potentially strong adepts in the simplest way — yes, they have some use."
"But the Jedi believe the Chosen One — Anakin Skywalker — was conceived by midi-chlorians..."
"The Jedi's beliefs interest me very little, apprentice," Valkorion snapped. "In tens of thousands of years of wielding the Force, they've learned nothing. No wonder their teachings find themselves on the brink of extinction time and again."
A tense pause hung in the air. The Sith was clearly irritated, displeased that his apprentice, like his predecessor, took the Order's teachings about the Force on faith. Which, admittedly, were quite fragmentary and mostly boiled down to the dogma of "Obey the Force."
Meanwhile, Valkorion had an undeniable advantage — none of the adepts I knew had ever achieved his greatness. Palpatine studied under Plagueis, a Muun who experimented with midi-chlorians and, according to one theory, created that very Anakin Skywalker.
Vitiate authoritatively criticized all teachings based on understanding midi-chlorians. And, unlike his opponents, he had studied the Force for millennia. His mastery in using the Force spoke for itself — he did things neither Jedi nor Sith even suspected. Too bad he didn't want to share that knowledge — understanding the Force would undoubtedly give me far more power than I currently had. No matter how many ghosts I absorbed.
Wait. Ghosts were pure Force energy. The consciousness of a deceased adept. Exar Kun was powerful, so by Jedi logic — when the Force directly depends on the number of midi-chlorians in the blood — it stood to reason that absorbing him meant I'd also absorbed some of his midi-chlorians. If midi-chlorians provided contact with the Force, then the phenomenon of a ghost was also connected to them. By absorbing him, I'd inevitably taken control of the midi-chlorians within him. And if so, a new blood test would show an increase in my blood compared to the results on file at the Temple.
On the other hand, if Valkorion was right that the number of midi-chlorians depended on the body's internal Force reserves — which increased through training or handling large amounts of energy — then after everything I'd done, my internal reserve should have grown. And with it, the number of midi-chlorians.
A vicious circle. Whichever viewpoint was correct, a new test would show more midi-chlorians than before. And sticking my nose into this would only draw unwanted attention.
So, no point filling my head with garbage. I was Valkorion's apprentice, and as long as I could, I should absorb his wisdom and stick to his viewpoint. Until, or unless, proven otherwise.
"Master, can you teach me techniques to increase my Force reserve?"
"You're doing pretty well on your own," he said — was that a compliment? "Use the Force as much and as often as possible. Like training a muscle, your reserve will expand. If the Jedi knew this, even the most insignificant among them could become great."
"So even the weakest adept can use the most complex Force techniques?"
"Yes. All limitations are in the mind. Fixated on their heresy about midi-chlorians, the Jedi — and the Sith who descended from them — unconsciously limit their potential, believing that with a low midi-chlorian count you can't, for example, use Force Lightning or teleportation. A mind free from such dogmas, like yours, works completely differently, without looking back at views established over millennia. It just takes and does. Without doubt, without expectation of failure. You may have noticed with your own apprentice that Jedi training — with its complex, convoluted explanations — is hard to grasp and extremely inefficient when it comes to using the Force. Meanwhile, the notes of the Hero of Tython, which describe the same techniques much more simply and accessibly, achieve the same result with less expenditure of Force and other bodily resources. Bane came to the same conclusion while studying on Korriban, when studying the archives gave him more than the instructions of the newly-minted Sith. In my time, understanding the Force was even simpler."
"No one taught you, my lord."
"True. But I possessed a powerful mind, and the Force did what I wanted. From birth, I subjugated it, and the Force served me, not the other way around. Over the years, my understanding elevated me above any of my contemporaries."
"And how deeply have you come to know the Force, Master? Using that same analogy of drinking water."
"Deep enough to feel every atom of its constituent substance," Vitiate smiled. A very unpleasant smile.
"It would be useful for me to adopt your view of the Force — not just the techniques, but the understanding itself..."
"To understand the Force as it truly is, I had to absorb the population of an entire planet — and even then, there was some help from an ancient Iokath computer." This was the first time I'd heard Valkorion needed anyone's help.
"I have a drone from Iokath. But I know little about the planet itself."
"And I know everything about it." Valkorion seemed to grind his teeth. "They are the reason an invasion from outside awaits us."
"What?!" Now I understood what it meant to be hit like a ton of bricks. "Did Iokath fight the Yuuzhan Vong?!"
"Not exactly. The masters of Iokath — the real ones, of flesh and blood, not the mechanical servants they created — are an extremely cruel and aggressive race whose purpose in life is total control over their entire habitat. Their society was divided into two factions, competing from the dawn of time to create the most perfect weapon for destroying all organic life. And every galaxy they visited was a testing ground. That's what happened with the Yuuzhan Vong. Two mechanical armies clashed in an endless war for their creators' amusement. The side effects — destroyed civilizations — didn't interest Iokath. Zildrog, the computer that helped me absorb life on Nathema, said that in the Vong galaxy, Iokath tested machines sensitive to the Force — using it to hunt any sentient life. And when it became too dangerous, Iokath fled to our galaxy, where it continued its dark work — mindless destruction of life for sport. Eventually, the masters of Iokath killed each other, and the planet fell under the control of their creations. The Hero of Tython managed to conquer the planet and bring it into his alliance. But when they were needed most — when the Republic declared war on the Alliance — Iokath simply ran."
"I thought they were destroyed — the drone is sure of it."
"Oh no," Valkorion smiled. "They're out there, beyond the galaxy. Continuing the work their creators began. They won't come back here — we don't interest them because we'd put up a fight. But the Vong... I don't know why they're coming here — searching for their home or seeking revenge against the Masters of Iokath — but they pose a deadly threat to the entire galaxy. Their scouts have been here for thousands of years already. And the sooner you start hunting and destroying them, the fewer problems there will be in the future."
"I remember the Vong were searching our galaxy for the seed of their homeworld — I think it's called Zonama Sekot. The Jedi found it, and it helped end the slaughter."
"Of course, you can go looking for that little planet," Valkorion chuckled. "The galaxy is so small, after all..."
"Maybe it's worth searching for in the Unknown Regions," I voiced my thoughts. "But the Plan is more important. I should return to carrying it out."
"I'm glad you understand that." In a flash, Valkorion was right in front of me. Placing his palm on my forehead, he said:
"Don't you dare disappoint me, Rick!"
And everything went dark before my eyes.
* * *
Another round of bandage changes was ending just like the dozens before it.
Kaila was about to leave the ward, carrying a tray of bacta bandages still needed to heal the remaining scars on the Jedi's body, when the beeping of equipment caught her attention.
With the war machine spinning up, using bacta tanks for full treatment of injured Jedi had been deemed wasteful. So, except for the critically wounded, her patients were moved to hospital beds, and their minor injuries were treated with localized medical intervention. Applying bandages and dressings with bacta allowed them to conserve the limited resources of the Halls of Healing — their seemingly boundless capacity had proven insufficient for all those in need by the end of the first year of war.
The beep repeated.
The girl approached the monitor, glancing at the readings that had remained static for the past week. And now, for some reason, they had changed...
"Great Force!" The girl squeaked, feeling a bandaged hand touch her through the fabric of her robe.
The patient — a frequent guest in the Halls of Healing, incidentally — lay on the bed, wrapped in bandages from head to toe. In the most problematic areas — his ribs, abdomen, back of the head, both legs, and his left arm in a sling — there were deliberate gaps where skin was visible during the moments when the bacta dressings were removed from those spots.
And now, this patient had managed to grab her elbow with his right hand — the only limb that hadn't been broken.
"Master Dougan, you're awake!" There was joy in her voice. And no wonder! This was the third time she'd put this Jedi back on his feet, piecing him together bit by bit. Few managed such a feat — pulling a patient back from oblivion three times.
But she had. No wonder Vokara Che, as soon as she saw that the ill-fated Jedi had ended up in the Halls of Healing again, had ordered that Healer Omas specifically take care of "her" patient.
And this time, saving the general's life had cost her far more effort than the previous time. Healing trances, and even bacta, helped very little. Most of the internal injuries had to be repaired by healers through complex and exhausting manipulations. But they had succeeded — the numerous bone fragments were back in place, the internal organ wounds had closed, and the patient's life was no longer in danger. Provided he came out of the coma, of course. Which, in fact, he had.
"Kaila..." he said hoarsely. "I think we need to stop meeting like this."
The girl smiled, suppressing a laugh.
Over the year, she had treated many. And the sign — if he jokes, he's okay — had gained almost scientific validation within these walls.
"We were all so worried about you," she sighed, squeezing the fingers of his good hand in hers. "You were in a coma for almost a week. Your heart stopped several times. And your bones... well, practically none are intact. Multiple internal injuries."
"No wonder I feel so terrible," the Jedi's throat rasped. "How bad is it?"
"Um... in what sense?"
"Kaila, just because I can't move my neck doesn't mean I can't see that my whole body is in fixation apparatus."
The girl wrinkled her nose.
Indeed, every movable fragment of the master's body was held together by massive structures ensuring proper bone fusion. Even his neck was in a brace to prevent damage to his spinal cord from the vertebrae that had recently fused.
"Let's just say — if the Chancellor hadn't rushed you to the Temple in his personal transport, we probably wouldn't be talking right now."
"Oh," was all the bandaged man said. "What's the honor for?"
"You saved his life, don't you remember?" The girl frowned. Short-term amnesia after a concussion was common. The main thing was for his memory to return within the next month — otherwise, unpleasant consequences could develop.
"No, that part I remember. How is he?"
"He got off with a few bruises and scrapes. Mostly he was scared."
"We weren't alone there. What about Skywalker?"
"He healed up like a bantha," the girl grimaced. That patient had given her a lot of trouble, trying to escape from under Vokara Che's care within the first few days. But even the chief healer had only managed to keep him for a couple of days — until a crack in his rib healed. And then, as if nothing had happened, he'd rushed off from the Temple to somewhere in the Outer Rim. "You don't need to worry — you saved everyone."
"That's good to hear," the man rasped. "Kaila, will I be able to walk after all this?"
"Yes, why wouldn't you?" The girl was surprised. "Since you've come to, and no deterioration is expected, we can use healing meditations to speed up your recovery. But even without that — a few weeks and you'll be good as new. Though..."
"What is it?"
"Your scars and burns," the girl hesitated. "Well, the ones left from last time..."
"Oh, those... I'd already forgotten about them."
"You might have. But Padawan Offee fainted when she saw you without your armor."
"Offee? That's Master Unduli's apprentice, right?"
"Magister Unduli," the girl corrected. "The Order declared Master Koth dead, and Luminara became a new member of the High Council."
"Is that so," she thought she heard a chuckle from under the bandages. "It's good her merits were recognized. She deserves it. By the way, where is she?"
"I don't know exactly — they don't tell us healers things like that. But when you recover, you should definitely thank her Padawan — she was the one who set the fragments of your cervical vertebrae back in place. Otherwise, you'd have been paralyzed."
"I will," the Jedi promised. "What about my equipment?"
"Your Padawan took everything," the girl spread her hands. "But you won't need it now — you have a long recovery ahead."
"Kaila," the Jedi swallowed audibly.
"Yes, Master?"
"You'll be surprised how fast I get out of here."
* * *
Yoda received the news that Master Dougan had regained consciousness with relief. The brave Jedi, even in a coma, had never stopped fighting for his life — the healers could only note that before they could even do anything during his cardiac arrests, his body would return from the afterlife. The young master had been saving himself from merging with the Force. Which couldn't help but command respect.
Even Mace, upon hearing this, only nodded silently. And refrained from any comments, which was unusual given his undisguised dislike for this particular Jedi.
Of course, a long recovery still lay ahead — and after that, at least a month of rehabilitation. Vokara Che insisted on this especially. Arguing with her was an extremely thankless task. In matters of healing, Yoda, though he held full authority in the Order, preferred not to contradict the Twi'lek, who had an exceptionally stubborn character.
But the main thing was that he was alive.
Not that the Grand Master harbored any special feelings for Dougan. He had this attitude toward all Jedi. Comparing their small society to the traditional institution of family, Yoda noted that he served as a "caring mother" for most of them. While Mace was the "strict father." The other members of the High Council could loosely be called "kind relatives."
But in Dougan's case, things were a little different.
Since his return from the Unknown Regions, the master had looked at this boy with new eyes — from the height of his age, he simply couldn't call the young man anything else. Of course, only in his thoughts — in speech, he never allowed himself anything of the sort. Mutual respect was one of the tenets of the Order.
The return of the holocron of the ancient Jedi Ulic Qel-Droma — the very one whose ghost had helped Skywalker defeat the Sith weapon — was a breath of fresh air for the Order. The Archives had been enriched with another milestone in Jedi history. In time, it would be studied, and perhaps new wisdom would be gleaned.
And then, Rick had increasingly asserted himself as one of the greatest Jedi of the modern era.
On one hand, this should be a cause for joy — the Jedi, completely unprepared for war, were growing wiser in the conduct of war with each passing day.
But, as everyone knows, a Hutt has two sides.
Too often in the past, great Jedi had brought evil to this galaxy.
The Great Schisms, the fall of Revan and Malak, Kreia, the Brotherhood of Darkness...
Like many Grand Masters before him, Yoda did everything in his power to ensure the younger generation knew as little as possible about the temptations of the Dark Side. That was why the Archive held only twenty busts, not many thousands. Suppressing the dark pages of history protected young minds from the temptation — like those responsible for the First Great Schism — to study the ways of the Dark Side.
Only strengthened and tempered minds were ready to comprehend the truth.
It was no accident that a saying circulated in the Order: "Your training begins only after you become a Master." Hundreds of holocrons — Jedi and Sith — were stored in the Archives and accessible only to a limited circle.
Slowly walking through the Temple corridors, Yoda paused for a moment to wonder — was the chosen path correct? Perhaps it was worth preparing Jedi to fight the Darkness from an early age, making them confront the grim episodes of galactic history? Changing the training program, supplementing it with the Order's sad examples? But wouldn't that contribute to even more defections from Jedi teachings?
The path of reform was dangerous, and therefore postponed. Until better times. Perhaps.
After all, there must be a reason why the number of powerful Jedi had been decreasing in every generation.
Studying the Order's chronicles from before and after Ruusan, the Grand Master could only sadly note that the current generation was many times inferior to its predecessors. The glorious pages of Jedi history were unlikely ever to be repeated. The times when Order members could dictate their will, resolving crises on a galactic scale, had faded into oblivion. Only hope remained that the rising generation — Padawans and younglings, among whom there were promising candidates — would rectify the situation.
The aged master shook his head, banishing such thoughts.
No.
For thousands of years, Jedi had learned the way they learned now — under careful guidance, surrounded by an aura of goodness and mutual understanding. Only by experiencing all this in the Temple could they see the injustice of the world beyond the Order — and fight against it. The cause of the "degeneration" wasn't the training program — the world around them had changed. And the wisdom of the Jedi was no longer as great as one would wish.
Sentients had learned to act independently, solving their worlds' problems without Jedi involvement. And any intervention was seen as outright interference. Which ran counter to Order policy. And inevitably led to a decline in the influence of the gifted on the galaxy. Even if it was wrong.
The war had once again allowed Jedi to take the forefront in global politics. With fire and sword, they crushed the separatist hotbeds undermining the Republic's foundations. This was as it should be — it was the Jedi's purpose. To preserve peace and tranquility in the Republic. With all available means.
The main thing was that, upon the war's conclusion, Jedi didn't return home with the worldview that Revan had once brought. Yes, in the end, he had returned to the Light — before his disappearance into the Unknown Regions. But his truth — about the Unified Force — had undermined millennia-old foundations. It was a good thing he had been prudent enough to heed the Council and not spread such heresy among others.
Over the years, dissent had arisen among the Jedi time and again — the "Grays," the Fallen, the teachings of the Living and Unified Force, the Potentium, the Jensaarai. And how many unique teachings were there in the galaxy whose views diverged from the Order's opinion?
The Voss Mystics, who flatly refused any cooperation with the Jedi — even within the framework of a cultural exchange of views on the Force.
The Witches of Dathomir — descendants of the exiled rebellious Knight Allie. Once, as on many planets across the galaxy, Kaan's Brotherhood of Darkness had established a Sith Academy. And now, plundered and faded into oblivion, that structure only poisoned the minds of the locals. That was why the Order, after the crash of the academy starship, had never again taken an interest in the planet, permanently striking it from all possible recruitment directions.
Nor were the Jedi interested in the Fallanassi — a small group of women who secretly adhered to the teachings of the White Current. A unique view of the Light Side of the Force, but so one-sided that even the strongest adepts lacked basic telekinesis skills. However, in the art of creating Force Illusions, they were unmatched. But they held no value for the Order either.
The Order of Dai Bendu, whose monks were considered in deep antiquity to be practically the founders of the Jedi. Yet, through the millennia, their wisdom had never been understood, remaining only a faint trace of foreign ideology in the vast Archives.
And dozens of similar organizations hid within the Republic's expanse, invisibly multiplying, understanding the Force in their own intricate ways of perception. Occasionally, one Jedi researcher or another would bring rumors or fragments of information about new or long-forgotten teachings to the Temple. But they never gained widespread integration into the Order's training program — you couldn't introduce something into young minds before it had been studied by the wisest of Masters. And understanding another's vision of the Force without full and comprehensive study was impossible.
Fragments of foreign teachings were dangerous. They led one astray, clouded the mind, shook one's faith. But increasingly, Jedi were, one way or another, learning something new for themselves. And invariably — outside the Temple. And that was frightening. Unbridled Force was a path to destruction.
Yoda listened to the Force, hoping it would give an answer — whether such troubles awaited after the war's end. But it was silent. The Dark Side unshakably concealed the future. And that was unsettling.
Could the Sith, over a thousand years, have surpassed the Jedi by blocking their gift of seeing the future? No, they couldn't. There were only two of them — master and apprentice. Two could never surpass an Order numbering in the thousands of adepts.
Something else was alarming.
A Zabrak trained in the ways of the Dark Side had managed to defeat Qui-Gon in an unequal fight — an excellent fighter and experienced Jedi. Was it possible that, after millennia in the shadows, the Sith had become stronger than their ancient opponents? And if so, what would such a confrontation lead to?
And, importantly — Republic politicians had begun to show fervent attention to Jedi heroes.
The Chancellor was extremely favorable toward Skywalker, who had become his best friend. Dougan's elevation — no Jedi had ever received the position of Moff, thereby gaining political weight in the Republic's ruling circles.
Of course, the young master was not the first Palpatine had drawn close. Quite a few Jedi had already served as his advisors — for example, Master Jorus C'Baoth, who had led the "Outbound Flight" project, from which there had been no news for a long time.
Palpatine, as Dougan himself had rightly assessed, was an extremely perceptive and intriguing politician. He never missed an opportunity to draw close to those loyal to the Republic's cause. And through this, his own power grew. He sought support, using Order members as walking advertisements for his rule. It was hard to fault him for this — politics had interested the Order little since the Jedi had refused to participate in governing the state, ceasing to promote their protégés to the position of Supreme Chancellor.
But the very idea of a symbiosis between politics and Order members seemed sacrilegious to Yoda. Unfortunately, the young rarely shared his concerns. They wanted glory — and the war favored the brave. Of course, the Council managed to restrain such démarches, but the recent assassination attempt on the Chancellor had literally upended all political calculations.
Dougan's self-sacrifice, as he fended off attacks on the first person of the state until the very end, did not go unnoticed. Thousands of journalists tried to break into the Temple to get an exclusive interview. But the Gate Master remained unyielding.
Meanwhile, the Chancellor's administration inquired about Rick's health daily. Of course, that was understandable — a Moff was a political figure, and the Chancellor needed to have the full picture. Even the temporary appointment of Master Unduli during Dougan's recovery was received negatively by the Chancellor's office. As if they hoped a man in a coma could adequately command an army.
The Jedi, however, did not dare refuse Palpatine himself.
In the span of a week, he had already visited the Halls of Healing twice — to see Skywalker and Dougan, floating in a bacta tank. He inquired about his health, offered the help of the galaxy's best doctors. Vokara Che struggled to find the right words, assuring him that both Jedi were in safe hands.
The Chancellor's second and, for now, final visit to the Temple took place five days after the attack. And it came as a complete surprise — the administration hadn't bothered to announce the visit in advance. Naturally, no one stopped him. The Grand Master personally escorted the former senator from Naboo to the ward where the master, who had still not regained consciousness, had been moved the previous night.
There, alone, the leader of the Jedi and the Supreme Commander were able to speak without witnesses about the latter's new initiative.
Rumors reached the Temple that the Chancellor's administration had prepared and sent a military reform proposal to sector command. The Council didn't know the specifics, but the general message was no secret.
The first year of war had cost the Republic dearly. Tens of millions of clones killed, thousands of Jedi. And enormous expenditures on the military industry. The Chancellor was outraged by the reckless use of budget funds and the massive losses in personnel and equipment. Hundreds, if not thousands, of cases of blatant incompetence — Isard's department had scrupulously gathered such "dirty laundry" before throwing it in the face of the high command. And Palpatine insisted, no, even demanded positive reforms from the military.
The Chancellor's proposal and that of his supporters didn't seem outrageous. Alongside the defeats, successes had also been correctly noted, as had the people behind them. The Nabooian was firmly pushing the idea of transferring command to the most distinguished officers. Among the two dozen Moffs leading the sector armies, there were both worthy individuals and those who had performed poorly. Therefore, the Chancellor advocated for expanding the areas of responsibility of the former at the expense of the latter. The initiative was called the "System Army."
The name seemed self-explanatory, but the essence was quite the opposite. Palpatine provided clear proposals for subordinating several sector armies to a single commander — in which case, the most competent being could direct the actions of those Moffs and system armies that weren't handling their duties.
Notably, contrary to Yoda's expectations, Palpatine was appointing not army officers to these positions, but Council members. It was the outstanding Jedi, who had proven their valor time and again, that he envisioned for such roles. Perceptive Yoda immediately understood that this step was a gesture of gratitude toward the Order for saving his life. And the fact that the conversation took place in Dougan's ward, not in the Council Chamber, only emphasized to whom Yoda should be grateful for this turn of events.
Unlike his colleagues on the Council, Yoda could and knew how not only to listen but also to hear. Therefore, he understood the Chancellor's words — and what was left unsaid but implied.
And therein lay the catch.
Palpatine didn't say it directly, but he unmistakably hinted that it should be Dougan commanding the system army that would absorb the areas of responsibility of the 13th and 14th Sector Armies. The Grand Master was too wise to argue openly with the Chancellor. Especially since the Jedi was currently in a coma, and his future was known only to the Force.
Yoda had lived in this world too long not to understand — Palpatine was demanding far more than an appointment. He was dictating his will to Yoda. The bill stipulated that only a High Jedi General could command any of the ten system armies, and only a Master of the Order could hold that rank. Shaak Ti, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Plo Koon, Adi Gallia, Kit Fisto, Mace Windu — the Grand Master could send them to new assignments without a moment's hesitation. But at the same time, Palpatine was also "pushing" Dougan into such a position, even though he was not a Master. And, frankly speaking, he had received even the rank of Master with a very, very generous advance that he still hadn't "earned back," no matter how hard he tried.
Yoda marveled inwardly at how well-informed the Chancellor was about the internal affairs of the Order and the Council. Not even a day had passed since the Jedi had been forced to declare Master Kota dead. Further searches for him near Sith Space were pointless. Intelligence had already received word that numerous droid forces were operating inside. The CIS had gained a foothold in the north of the galaxy — and it would take considerable effort to drive them out.
And Palpatine had voiced his "wishes" no earlier than the moment a vacancy appeared on the Council. The Grand Master resorted to a clever maneuver, quickly manipulating to bring Luminara onto the Council — her faith in the ideals of the Order was beyond question, and her candidacy was approved unanimously. Had Dougan appeared among the Masters, the Council would have turned into a battlefield between him and Windu.
Therefore, while nominally agreeing to Dougan's appointment, Yoda still denied him the opportunity to hold such a post, even formally. Instead, Master Unduli would command the system army.
Of course, this turn of events left the Chancellor and the Grand Master open to a clash of minds and ambitions — the latter was unlikely to forgive this. But Yoda also had to make it clear that the affairs of the Order could not be controlled from the Senate. The Council chose its own members. Not Palpatine. And that would never change.
There were still three more suitable candidates to find for the vacant positions, but the Grand Master wasn't planning to rush. It seemed the bill would be passed at yesterday's Senate reading, but unexpectedly, the opinion of the Loyalist Committee prevailed, and the law had to be sent back for revision.
Learning this from Mace, Yoda allowed himself only a sorrowful sigh. Obviously, the politicians would now try to tack on hundreds of amendments to a simple law, ultimately turning the current initiative into an unwieldy document that would be difficult not only to implement but even to read. A pity, but this time, the Order's friends — Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala — in their opposition to Palpatine's initiatives, had somewhat spoiled some of Yoda's plans.
Well, by the time the law was passed, he would already be confident enough in the candidates. For now, each of the Masters was busy with their own affairs. Unduli, at Yoda's earnest request, had taken command of the Iron Spear — even though things were quiet there for now, preparations for the operation against the enemy's Ryloth and Geonosis groups were in full swing. Everything would go exactly as Dougan had planned — if the plan was good, why change it?
Right now, however, Yoda was concerned with something else entirely. Politics and war were current affairs.
But the master who had regained consciousness — with his unconventional views and abilities (he couldn't get the images of the Dark Side technique used at the Petranaki Arena out of his head), and whom Palpatine so clearly patronized — that was a priority task. Before the Chancellor had a chance to speak with his savior, Yoda needed to be the first to do so. And to understand whether only the Chancellor was interested in promoting Dougan, or whether the latter was also driven by career ambitions.
The ward where Dougan was staying once again greeted the small master with the typical "hospital" smell. Well, as useful as bacta was, the air saturated with it, unfortunately, did not heal.
"Glad to see you, Grand Master," Yoda had to exert considerable effort not to pull his ears back, as he had done in his deep youth when struck by strong amazement.
Vokara Che had reported that Dougan had regained consciousness the previous night, closer to morning. She had forbidden disturbing him before sleep, so the Master had timed his visit for lunch. Characteristically — the food in the Halls of Healing was far tastier than what was served in the dining hall. And it had been that way for hundreds of years. In his youth, Yoda had often come here to enjoy the "hospital" food. Enjoying universal affection among the healers, he was never refused — especially since every appearance he made here was strictly on business.
And so now, holding a small metal tray in one hand and leaning on his cane with the other, he observed with poorly concealed surprise how a man who had recently been on the brink of life and death looked completely normal. Of course, if one didn't forget that his appearance was like that of a baked fruit.
However, contrary to the Grand Master's expectations, before him, sitting on a cot, was a young, vibrant man who, smiling and laughing, patiently waited for Healer Omas — whose face bore an expression of utter concentration — to remove the last of the bandages from his torso.
At the sight of Yoda, Dougan waved amiably with his left hand. His LEFT! The very one that had been broken in three places just yesterday, with one of the fragments threatening to tear an artery.
Now, only the lower part of the man remained bandaged — around his legs, devices were still in place to hold the bone fragments in position.
"Hmm... you look lively, Master Dougan," Yoda set the tray of food on the bedside table. It seemed a situation was unfolding that was out of the ordinary.
No living being could heal in such a short time — not even Yoda himself. And his level of knowledge far surpassed what almost all members of the Order knew. Well, perhaps Vokara Che knew more. And Jocasta Nu.
"Yes, Master," the healer, catching the alarmed look from the Jedi leader, hurried to leave the ward. A smart girl. She understood when her presence was not wanted. Dougan, following this visual exchange, merely raised an eyebrow, running his hand over the numerous scars on his hairless head.
"You have a secret, don't you, Master?" Yoda pulled a comfortable chair closer, positioning it so that it stood next to the patient's bed.
For a moment, the Jedi seemed flustered to Yoda. His eyebrows furrowed, and his gaze drifted somewhere to the side. One didn't need a connection to the Force to understand — the man was hesitating. As if trying to guess which secret he was being asked about.
Yoda had been trying to solve the puzzle called "Jedi Rick Dougan" for long months. But he could never get to the answer. He trusted his observations and feelings — that the Jedi was loyal to the Light, and the Darkness that had touched him was merely a tiny imprint of the past that had only tempered the young peacekeeper. And yet, Dougan had repeatedly demonstrated Force techniques that far exceeded his own potential.
"I have never seen such rapid healing before," the Grand Master finally said.
"Oh, that," Dougan's face, despite its ugliness, expressed extreme relief. "I used some instructions from the keeper of the Qel-Droma holocron."
Yoda snorted almost inaudibly. He had expected nothing less. Of course, the study of the holocron's knowledge was far from complete, but there was no hint of healing techniques there. Qel-Droma had passed on great wisdom to his descendants, but not secret knowledge.
Perhaps Mace was right, and they should look more closely at Dougan. But until the Shadows' investigation was complete, the Council was not going to make direct accusations. It was easy to accuse, but difficult to face the consequences if irrefutable evidence of innocence were found.
At present, the Council of First Knowledge could not boast of anything compromising regarding the young Jedi.
Every world Dougan had visited, every action he had taken, right up to his return to Coruscant, had been thoroughly investigated.
Starting with the Dark Side technique on Geonosis, the Shadows, like sand panthers, had followed the trail with their characteristic zeal, investigating every possible lead.
That Dougan had conspired with the head of the Order's warehouses and obtained an ancient Order starship for his personal use certainly contradicted the traditions according to which Jedi should not own property or have attachments. But that was not enough to accuse him of falling to the Dark Side. However, after the Jedi Investigators focused their attention on the warehouse manager himself, many egregious facts came to light. Both the appropriation of one of the corvettes, and the trade of certain valuable objects from the warehouses, and the involvement of a specific crew of workers in fulfilling Order contracts. Despite the fact that Jedi Gree was an excellent administrator, the Council expelled him.
The investigation on Kamino yielded no results.
Master Ti had a very thorough conversation with the Prime Minister of Kamino, Lama Su. To get to the bottom of why he had allowed the general to attach additional forces to the 204th Legion. The Kaminoan, of course, was frightened by the suddenness of such conversations bordering on suspicion, but provided a perfectly reasonable answer. He was obligated to staff the Jedi's unit. And he made up the shortfall with what he had. And since those units were idle, he, like any other merchant, gave the goods to the first person who showed interest. There was nothing to fault there — the Grand Army of the Republic hadn't achieved proper logistics even after a year of war.
The Shadows sent to Christophsis also returned empty-handed. Not the slightest hint of the Dark Side — even the Dark Woman found nothing. Hard as it was to believe, the fact remained — the inhabitants revered a specific Jedi and showed no inclination toward loyalty to the others. True, the disappearance of Senator Aisel looked quite suspicious, but the Elder who replaced him in that post, simultaneously leading the planet's government, merely threw up his hands. He didn't know the details of his nephew's death. However, the Dark Woman managed to get to the truth — he had fallen victim to an underground criminal group called "HYDRA," led by a former captain of the guard, Ptar. Whose fate, after that, turned out very, very grim — no direct evidence of the Elder's involvement was found, but the fact that the group was completely destroyed spoke for itself.
The commander of the Christophsis defense fleet, Shirano, despite having previously served in the Rendili self-defense forces, felt perfectly at home on Christophsis. He, like many of his subordinates, had changed masters in such difficult times, and the Christophsians paid excellently. Who could blame a being for trying to earn as much as possible in such troubled times? And here, too, no trace of Dougan was found.
Admiral Yularen and Commodore Kreeves were a bit more helpful, telling the Shadows how the First Battle of Christophsis had begun. But even here, it was impossible to track down the mercenaries who had helped him with the sabotage aboard the enemy ships. Master Unduli, who had to question the clones of the 204th Legion about them, was able to provide information that they were Mandalorians — even the commandos Alpha and Balda, who had participated in that raid, could not explain more.
Ukio, Rodia, and Hutt Space also added nothing new to the picture. Dougan was convincing and fully adhered to the Code. True, Mace was still furious when he learned that Dougan had accepted a gift from Jabba the Hutt — two slave girls. But even here, disappointment awaited the Korunnai — both were alive and working on Nar Shaddaa. Completely free. And they had heard nothing of Dougan since he had released them, granting them freedom by all laws — Republic and Hutt.
The last and most desperate act in the "Sith hunt" for the Shadows was the work at the Rendili shipyards, where ships were being built that, with enviable regularity, were sent under Dougan's command. But even here, nothing reprehensible was found — payment came from an account controlled by Elder Aisel.
Sienar, at whose shipyards Dougan had purchased the Marauders, despite his reluctance to deal with representatives of the Order, remained clean before the law. Every ship — both already built and under construction — was paid for from the fleet budget. And not a single datary had slipped past the accounting department.
Rumors of Dougan's connection with a surprisingly large purchase of ARC-170s from Incom Corporation also turned out to be completely legal.
Extremely curious was the information from Corellia. An unknown being had placed a massive order for the construction of long-obsolete but still serviceable XS-class freighters. However, the trail led to the Hutts — similar ships had been spotted working for one of their numerous transport companies. Though there was another notable order, also on Corellia. Defender-class corvettes, identical in every way to the one Dougan used... But the shipwrights had fulfilled the will of their unknown client, and no connection could be established between these ships and Dougan. The Shadows, of course, continued the investigation, but these ships had not appeared anywhere in the known galaxy.
The results of the investigation were neither clear nor convincing, but Master Windu insisted on continuing. Well, even if it painted the Order in a bad light, Yoda did not wish to stop the investigation either. The final point in this "Sith hunt" could only be placed when the Sith himself was found. Whether it would be Dougan or not — only the Force itself could know in advance.
"I heard that Master Unduli received a seat on the Council?" the Jedi inquired.
"A decision made in difficult times it was," Yoda sighed. "Master Kota declared dead has been. But his body found still not."
"How so? Isn't it known where he died?"
"Precisely," the Grand Master looked sadly out the window. "Neither from him, nor from the clones under his command, any word has come. Vanished without a trace they have, in Sith Space."
"Hmm... and what were they doing there?"
"Master Kenobi, in one of his missions, a vision visited. That on the ancient homeland of the Jedi's enemy, a threat to the Order is brewing. The Dark Side dwells in the Unknown Regions."
"Is that so? Then why not organize a purge of those territories with large forces?"
"The situation at the front is dire," another heavy sigh. "And the CIS forces in that sector are considerable — and their numbers grow by the minute. I fear the Sith may seize the ancient secrets of their forebears."
"Wait," the Jedi rubbed the back of his head. "How could anything valuable remain there if the Order has been fighting their return for millennia? I thought everything valuable had long been confiscated and safely stored in the Temple..."
"Keep their secrets well the Sith do. Never know you if something more in the tombs of the Dark Lords remains, when something you find."
"I see... and so, Dooku killed Master Kota?"
"That is what we believe. For who else but the Sith would the Jedi be interfering with?"
"Reasonable. It's no coincidence, as you say, that they're building up their forces there. Truly a sad time for a new appointment to the Council. Master Unduli is undoubtedly worthy of her new title. Her wisdom is incomparable."
"She replaces you now, commanding the sector army."
"Few are capable of such a task, but I am confident Luminara will manage. However," the Jedi flexed the fingers of his recently healed hand a few times. "I think I will soon return to my duties."
"Not before a month has passed," Yoda countered. "And even then, only if your recovery continues at the same pace."
"Why take up a bed here for so long?" the man was surprised. "In a couple of days, I'll be fully healed and ready to return to my duties."
"Powerless in this I am," Yoda spread his hands. "Vokara Che rules in the Halls of Healing, not I. And her decision ignored should not be. For the well-being of every Jedi we care here. Physical wounds will heal. But spiritual wounds they leave behind. And those with bacta cannot be healed."
Dougan looked at the Grand Master with bewilderment, as if wanting to ask something. But meeting Yoda's uncompromising gaze, he only exhaled noisily.
"I understand you, Master. But sitting in the Temple without ever leaving is no good either. If I am to return to the army, I'd like to stay informed about what's happening in the galaxy."
"If permission from the healers is given, no one will hold you by force," Yoda chuckled.
"Thank you, Master. May I ask a question?"
"If I can answer it, ask, Master Dougan."
"What happened to Jedi Gree, who used to manage the warehouses? I wanted to return some equipment I got from him, but the droid told me he had left the Temple."
"Expelled he was," the teacher of teachers said with sorrow in his voice. Whatever reasons forced Jedi to break with the Order, he always felt partly responsible. Hadn't taught enough, hadn't set them on the right path, had allowed seeds of doubt to sprout in others' minds. When you bore responsibility for thousands of beings in the galaxy, every loss ached in an aged heart. "The Jedi Code he violated. In corruption and bribery he wallowed."
"Oh, is that so," Dougan's eyebrows shot up. "A serious matter. I didn't know him well, but he made a perfectly decent impression. And no suspicions at all..."
"Indeed?" the Grand Master smiled slyly. "And what of his help in acquiring your ship?"
The question was asked without any ulterior motive, but embarrassment appeared on the Jedi's face.
"The Force called me to a path," he said slowly. "And I thought the Order was unlikely to help me find myself, given the war that had begun. Honestly, I didn't think I'd have to return. But..."
"The Force showed you the right path again?" Yoda smiled.
"Yes, something like that. The search cleared my mind, and the holocron I found served as a sign that I should return. So, in part, I'd say that thanks to Gree's rule-breaking, the Order gained a valuable relic."
"A right action cannot erase dozens of wrong ones," the Jedi leader shook his head. "Unanimous the Council was in its opinion. Gree serves the Order no longer — nor do his accomplice workers. And this verdict cannot be changed."
"Oh, no, I'm not going to ask you to bring Gree back," Dougan protested. "The Council is wise, and I see no reason to oppose its will."
"Good," Yoda pronounced. He detected no hint of falseness in the master's words that might indicate some hidden motive behind this interest. "But a question I have as well."
"If I am able to answer it," the Jedi spread his hands.
"On Corellia, ships were built, exactly like the one you have," Yoda narrowed his eyes. Carefully directing the Force toward his interlocutor, he unobtrusively sensed his emanations. "Are you aware of this?"
"This is the first I've heard of it," the Jedi shook his head. The Grand Master noted with inner satisfaction that Dougan showed nothing but genuine surprise. "I can only assume someone learned I had a Defender and ordered similar ships for their own purposes."
"We thought of that," the teacher of teachers admitted. "Suspicions there are that the Hutts are involved."
"The Hutts?" Another wave of surprise. "What do they have to do with it?"
"Another contract on Corellia is notable. Light freighters the Hutts ordered, in large numbers. They use them to transport goods across the galaxy."
"Hmm... I don't see the connection yet. I could be wrong, but isn't it allowed to build ships in large numbers? Especially for trade purposes."
"Yet cases are known where their cargo had bills of lading issued by your army," Yoda said meaningfully.
"Now that's interesting," Dougan tensed. "What kind of cargo?"
"Unknown to us," the Master sighed. "Such freighters are not subject to inspection."
"Could this be a legacy from Moff Bailur?" the question sounded as if the Jedi was thinking aloud. "Or are the Hutts pulling something behind my back?"
"The Dark Side hides much," the green-skinned Jedi reminded. "But if you are right, and our allies are plotting something ill — it should be looked into."
"Yes, it was naive to think the Hutts would stop scheming at every opportunity," Dougan said with bitterness in his voice. "When I return, I'll have to order an inspection of cargo transport issues to get to the truth."
"That is still far off," Yoda reminded. "Meanwhile, the Chancellor is inquiring about your health. Perhaps you should inform your new friend that you are on the mend?"
"Forgive me," Dougan frowned. "But since when is Palpatine my friend? And why is he taking an interest in me?"
"His true motives are unknown to me," the Grand Master said coldly. "But you should be careful in your dealings with the Chancellor. The Force tells me it is no coincidence that you were together at the moment of the assassination attempt."
"I have the same thought, Master Yoda," for an instant, a dangerous glint flickered in Dougan's eyes. "Exactly the same thought."