"We need to stop clone production if we want to win this war," General Grievous's sinister voice grated on the ears. And his disgusting, abominable appearance was a sight not for the faint of heart. In fact, one look at him was enough to conclude that whoever designed the cyborg had clearly cut corners. The question is, why leave organic parts in a chassis that lacks continuous armor? No, I understand that Grievous is a kind of experiment, the results of which Palpatine later used to save his new apprentice's life. But right now, this is blatant shoddy work! He has a ton of vulnerabilities. One lucky blaster shot and all that organic matter instantly stops functioning. Obi-Wan Kenobi proved by the end of the war just how untenable such experiments were. No wonder Palpy dressed his truncated apprentice in a full combat suit.
"Focus on executing your part of the plan, General," Count Dooku echoed with cold aristocratic courtesy. "My Dark Acolytes will ensure the main part of the plan is carried out."
With that, the holographic recording faded, leaving those gathered around the transmitter in the Jedi Temple's Communications Center with conflicting feelings. Bewilderment, confusion, grim determination were distinctly palpable. And that was just from the trio present in the Temple besides myself. And there were also Unduli, Ti, Skywalker, and Kenobi standing opposite us as holograms.
Honestly, formally, I shouldn't be here — Jedi undergoing treatment aren't allowed at briefings. The Order was stubbornly concerned about the favorable psychological climate for its wounded. Kento Marek and Roan Shrine, whose bodies got battered during the operation on Geonosis — which, thank Allah, ended in our victory (with considerable losses to the troops and fleet of the 13th Sectoral, by the way) — can confirm that. The bugs' sonic weaponry is a real pain in the ass. And although that pair got roughed up pretty badly, all their fractures and bleeding were patched up during the medical transport's flight to Coruscant. So, the two loafers were just wearing out their robes, lying around on hospital bunks.
And Yoda, after all, yielded to my desire to attend. Never mind that he grumbled like a thousand-year-old stump the whole way from the vestibule where I met him to the Communications Center. Well, that's a minor matter; my mind is already used to filtering out his stream of consciousness. So, as usual, taking a spot by the window, I watched the comedy unfolding in the center: "Jedi Figure Out the Enemy's Plan." Funny, really. It's never happened before, and here it is again — the cunning enemy, it turns out, is even more cunning.
"So, their target is Kamino," Kenobi voiced the general thought. Well done, him. Straight up Captain Obvious. Ten out of ten enemy conspiracies uncovered.
Hmm, the sarcasm is just pouring out of me after the coma. The withdrawal from all that clusterfuck Palpatine dumped on my head? I should keep my tongue in check, or I'll say too much.
"Dangerous the enemy's plan this is," Yoda frowned. Oh, really? So it's not obvious that losing Kamino means the end of everything. My plans first and foremost. So, staying aloof isn't an option.
"The Separatists are taking a big risk, attacking the clones' homeworld," Skywalker snorted. "Kamino has strong cover."
For crying out loud, so much pompousness. And complete ignorance of the operational situation. You have to be so self-assured that you didn't even bother to find out where he got the ships to break Trench's blockade and the ground forces to assault the planet that the Afro-Jedi is still single-handedly holding. After Falon Grey and Roblio Darte died on their Acclamators without even setting foot on the Twi'lek's soil, the Korunnai refused any help from fellow Jedi on the planet, personally taking command of the expeditionary corps' remnants. The irony of the situation was that besides the two who had become one with the Force and Skywalker with his Padawan, other Jedi hadn't actually participated in the attack. It's easy to be noble when it costs you nothing. Fine, you lover of tossing droids around in hand-to-hand combat, you and I will settle accounts for the twenty thousand clones who died because of your idiotic zerg rush.
Kenobi, who was now stroking his beard, pondering the fate of the clones' homeworld, is also no strategist. Not Suvorov. He got almost his entire group of destroyers killed. Good thing he had enough brains not to take ground troops and equipment into the space battle. Of course, his "excellent" command had its personal pluses for me — in the person of Admiral Block, a generally good and capable officer. But the thought that Grievous single-handedly wiped out Ravik's group and nearly destroyed Pellaeon's ships and the man himself — that's already a warning sign. The 13th isn't just "on life support" anymore. Besides Stryklen's group and Kreeves's squadron, which include all surviving and combat-capable ships, we have nothing left to fight with. I'd be very surprised if the CIS doesn't take advantage of this. And the attack on Kamino is just the first swallow. I need to hurry the Rendili and Sienar people — they should have at least fifty ships ready between them by now. And I need them by all means necessary.
"That used to be the case," I put in my "two cents." "The ships guarding Kamino were transferred under your command for the battles at Ryloth and Geonosis. Same for the ground forces."
"Oh," was all the Chosen One said. Yes, what a pity that your "fearless" brow doesn't show remorse for those talentlessly lost Venators. As always, the Tatooine bastard got everyone around him killed except his own flagship. Formally, of course, the blame lies with Tano, who led the fighters into a frontal attack. But the teacher is responsible for his student!
"Now it's clear that we didn't spook Grievous at Geonosis," Luminara stated. "He was just regrouping for the next attack."
"But we gave his ships a good mauling," Kenobi's former Padawan reminded with a hint of pride. "And right now he's weak enough to be caught at Kamino. We won two brilliant victories..."
"And lost the only combat-ready unit in two oversectors that could reliably stop the cyborg," I corrected. "I'll let you in on a secret — right now on Ord Pardron there isn't a single fully repaired ship larger than a light cruiser. And if I'm not mistaken, Grievous managed to keep his flagship, half a dozen Recusants, and as many Munificents. A splendid victory, Knight Skywalker. My sincere thanks."
And still, I couldn't hold back the sarcasm. The Chosen One's jaw actually tightened. Probably, like me right now, he clenched his teeth, just to keep from saying what he thought of his opponent. Patience, Rick, patience. We'll settle with him yet. Look at it simply. The 204th Legion didn't participate in any of those meat grinders, so you saved your own people. The dead were from the first generation, loyal to the Chancellor. We'd have had to get rid of them anyway, one way or another.
"In connection with this, the danger to Kamino becomes even greater," Unduli noted. "We cannot withdraw our forces... What's left of them," the master corrected herself, looking at me. That's right, girl, don't forget whose team you're on, from Ryloth and Geonosis. "I'll contact Rear Admiral Stryklen. His ships are closest to Kamino. Damaged as they are, it's the only thing we can oppose to Grievous's armada."
"If that's the case, then Anakin and I will move out on our destroyer to Kamino," Kenobi intervened, seeing his former student's nostrils flare. Too bad, I would have liked to see Palpatine's future apprentice snap at me. Of course, right now he's not as popular in the Order as he'll be by the end of the war. And a squabble with him (and I'm sure I'd thrash him soundly) wouldn't earn me loyalty points in the Temple. Not like the fight with Troll.
At the memory of the blade master's face, twisted in surprise when I activated the second weapon, a lecherous grin involuntarily appeared on my face. Yeah, he definitely didn't expect that. Naive Jedi. Who told him everything would be so simple? Especially after Juyo appeared in my arsenal.
As a fencing style, it satisfied my needs a little more than completely. Combined with the fully mastered Niman and the significantly studied Ataru and Soresu, Juyo gave me an undeniable advantage over anyone who saw it for the first time. The Jedi definitely can't compare with me — like Cin, they'll think to the very end that I practice Ataru. Until it's too late. Especially since I won't have to hide my belonging to the Unifying Force and keep my own Darkness under control. Drallig nearly saw through me when, in the heat of battle, my control over the masking cracked. I had to give up my position and return to Niman, which I can fence with even with my eyes closed — thanks, Exar Kun. Perhaps I shouldn't use Juyo in the future, except for special occasions. A style that uses all the body's resources, mood, feelings — it's excellent. But not among the prim members of the Order.
Can't say the same about Dooku's Dark Acolytes. No need to hold back in front of them. Slice them into thin strips and send them to the scrap heap. Practice shows that when I use the Force in all its manifestations, no one is my equal. Except maybe Dooku, Palpatine. Of course, I shouldn't forget that the Count taught Juyo to General Grievous, but even he can't fully realize the style — just mechanical repetition of thrusts and combinations.
On the other hand, Skywalker, having only the Dark Side and Djem So in his arsenal, cut down all the Jedi in the Temple, including Drallig. Am I getting too cocky, saying I can defeat him? Most likely, yes — even against true Niman, the brute force of Djem So is no competition. But don't count your chickens before they hatch. There are still a couple of years before Darth Vader appears, and I should spend them wisely on personal growth. Not for nothing did Kira save a tasty gift for me.
"No," Gallia shook her head negatively. Right. We're in a meeting. I got a bit too carried away with daydreaming. "You and your clones are needed on Felucia. The situation there is truly dire."
"But after Geonosis, Ahsoka..." Skywalker tried to object, but Kenobi stopped him again. Look at that, so caring. Remembered his apprentice. And the girl, by the way, had a rough time — worms, freezing, Barriss's attack. Speaking of which, the latter seems to have also arrived at the Temple. I need to talk to Unduli about her. A whole year has passed — it's time to step up the recruitment of my supporters. It would be extremely great if they were all concentrated in my army — always at hand, and the clones in my army should be on my side by the time things come to a head.
"We're moving out immediately. Padawan Tano will have recovered in the bacta tank by the time we arrive," Kenobi said humbly, despite Skywalker's silent objection.
I snorted to myself.
Well done, you. Straight from the fire into the frying pan for the little one.
And this despite the fact that after several fractures and concussions, Vokara Che prescribed me a leave to restore my "mental strength." Two months floating around the Temple like crap in a pond. Good thing I at least didn't have to constantly stay in the abode of all Jedi. That loophole helped me secure the support of the best scientists from Palpatine's Empire that I knew of. True, there were still a few potential recruits left, including on the other side of the front, but finding them would take time.
Hmm... a thought flashed through my mind related to this trio and their mission on Felucia. Tempting, very tempting. Especially since I have a specialist in such matters at hand. I don't think much has changed in the security system in four thousand years. However, I definitely need to visit the Archives. God protects the cautious.
Every cloud has a silver lining. While Unduli controls my army and I'm taking it easy, occasionally showing up for restorative meditations with Kaili, I've had time to focus on my own plans. Which, so far, are moving neither shaky nor steady. Targeted victories are good. But the Plan needs to gain momentum faster. The first year of the war is ending, and important events are coming in the near future that I'll need to participate in.
Just think. If at first I thought the Hands I had would be enough, now I'm sure I need to expand the number of my own emissaries. I should check with Ashara if there are any worthy candidates among her charges.
Destroy or subdue. That was the advice Valkorion gave me back then. Maybe I should use it on the potential candidates I have literally at hand.
But first and foremost, I need to deal with Kamino.
The chronology of the Clone Wars that I know has already gone off the rails. And since the canonical characters won't be on Kamino, who will stop Grievous and Dooku's envoys from a total Exterminatus of the cloning laboratories? If I didn't have a personal interest there, I'd completely ignore this attack. But as it is, at the very least, my own army is maturing there. The huge losses of late should justify mass purchases of the third generation of clones, loyal to me personally. And I should have met with Prime Minister Lama Su long ago. It's time to confiscate some extra equipment from him. The Stormtrooper Corps needs significant reinforcement.
"I will mobilize all available forces to defend Kamino," Unduli spoke up meanwhile. "Master Ti and the planet's leadership have already been notified. I think I should lead the planet's defense while my Padawan undergoes treatment. I'll take the 204th Legion with me," a brief glance in my direction. Receiving an approving, barely noticeable nod, she continued. "Right now they're the only fully staffed unit in the army."
"We shouldn't let militia know the secret of Kamino," Adi Gallia unexpectedly protested. "That's classified information, and involving volunteers is risky."
"Agree I do," the Grand Master said. "Leave auxiliary troops on Ord Pardron."
Of course, this reduces the amount of infantry, but the master's logic is understandable. Few even within the GAR itself know the exact location of Kamino. And letting mere mortals in on it isn't right either.
"As you command, Master Yoda," Unduli made a bow.
"And we, in turn, will try to send you all possible reserves," Master Gallia echoed her. Determination flickered across the young woman's face. "Aayla Secura and her 327th Corps are the closest of anyone we can send. Perhaps I'll also move out to help you. I think the apprentice Dooku mentioned is that same Zabrak, Savage Opress."
"If so," Yoda squinted. "A chance we have to catch the villain."
"For such a matter, more than three Jedi will be needed," I spoke up. Those gathered looked at me in surprise. "What's the matter, Masters? Kamino is one of the most important planets in the galaxy. My Padawan and I are moving out..."
"Unwise this is, Master Dougan," Yoda objected angrily. "On medical leave you are."
For the most part, I don't give a damn about Kamino and the pogrom the Separatists will cause there. I would, if not for my agreement with the Prime Minister. I promised him protection, which means I should make every effort to minimize Grievous's strike. My memory tells me the armada the cyborg will bring isn't that big. And as for the landing force, forget it — they'll be crushed like bugs on the windshield of a speeding sports car. But the planet's cloning facilities will suffer, and that primarily hinders me — the more clones from fresh batches die, the fewer loyal clones enter the army. Not to mention the risk of losing those precious Spaarti cloning cylinders. Besides, instead of Ventress, other acolytes will participate in the attack. Their goal might be the same — capturing clone DNA. But whether other Jedi, not Kenobi and Skywalker, can handle the opposition — I'm not sure. So, I should take direct part in this epic operation.
Only, the Council is sure that after the ill-fated attack on the Chancellor, I need mental "healing." What the hell for? I can't understand. If it weren't for the ability to leave the Temple and pull off my business on Coruscant, I'd be howling like a banshee.
So, I turn on all my logicality and apply it to the master. He has no immunity to logic.
"With all due respect, Grand Master, but Grievous and Opress are extremely dangerous opponents. And three Jedi, even Masters, is insanely few for a reliable defense. Both the cyborg and the Zabrak have already proven to us that they can handle a much larger number of Jedi. I won't boast, but of everyone present here, only three have had real combat experience with Sith accomplices. And two of them are elsewhere right now."
Yoda squinted thoughtfully. Seems like he's trying to figure out if I'm trying to trick him. Of course I am. The main thing is not to show it so obviously.
"Moreover, Dooku said several acolytes would participate in the attack," formally he said something else, but wordplay is everything. "Kamino is too important for us not to use all available reserves. Master Gallia and I can be there in ten hours."
"Manage without your help they will," Yoda concluded.
"But I agree with Master Dougan," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. Unexpected support, I must admit. "I deeply respect Masters Ti, Unduli, and Allie, but our opponents are too strong. Especially if there are more than two of them."
"Don't forget, if we suffer a defeat there with unused resources, the Senate and the public will turn against the Order. And it will be damn hard for us to wash off their accusations," I brought politics into the conversation.
That should work — the protracted nature of the war was progressively increasing the number of those dissatisfied with the Jedi. Primarily in the Senate. Accordingly, it caused a lot of headaches for the Council.
"Besides, Master Dougan is sure he's healthy," Skywalker snorted with a smug little smile. "And he can demonstrate his skill in battles with General Grievous and Count Dooku's new apprentice."
Oh, you little shit!
"Unlike you, Skywalker, I defeated my opponents," I shot back. "And they won't come back to keep getting on our nerves."
"Especially Sora Bulq," the Knight snorted.
Bastard. You haven't defeated a single Force-sensitive opponent of yours on the first try. Or the second. You chased poor Ventress around until she herself got tired of Dooku and Sidious.
Kenobi preferred to look away, ignoring his former student's insolence. Yoda pretended to be interested in his own cane. Master Unduli rolled her eyes, as if Skywalker's antics were already getting on her nerves. Only Adi Gallia looked at the overreaching Chosen One with a hint of reproach.
"Indeed," what's the point of getting into a scuffle with an opponent in front of nearly half the Council? We'll settle accounts another time and under other circumstances. "My Padawan and I can depart shortly."
Yoda nodded in agreement. Looks like the old man couldn't resist the wonders of logic. Excellent. I'll remember this moment to have something to appeal with in the future.
"My ship is ready too," Gallie supported. "While preparations are underway, we can find someone else."
"Give you my blessing for this mission I do," but the Grand Master's tone was far from approving. "Don't think anyone else you will need. Five Jedi and Padawan Starstone should be enough. Return to your treatment you should after, Master Dougan."
"As you command, Master," I bowed in respect.
Excellent. The rest is easy.
The stocky Jedi headed for the exit. It took me a few steps to catch up with him, but already in the corridor.
"Something troubling you, Master Dougan?" he inquired grumpily.
"Yes, Master Yoda. I wanted to speak with you about the Jedi I'd like to see in my army," I had to start from afar.
* * *
"Up and at 'em, soldier," the relentless pounding of an armored fist on the metal door of Oli's room would have woken the dead. However, the Padawan, apparently, wasn't too keen on waking up in the middle of the night. "Great deeds await us!"
As always, the meeting of the Kamino operation participants dragged on past midnight. Skywalker and Kenobi logged off, heading off on their own mission. But Secura joined us. The girl even looked tired on the hologram. She and her corps were on some backwater mission on a rundown planet in the Outer Rim, in the 12th Sectoral's area of responsibility. Judging by the fact that the Council decided to involve her, the mission was successful.
A lot of time was spent discussing various details. Mostly they concerned the list of ships that could be pulled to Kamino in the shortest possible time. Taking advantage of the fact that few people were paying attention to me, I secretly sent instructions to Unduli.
Grievous won't launch the invasion as long as the tracking station on Rishi's moon is functioning. Luminara has already sent Alpha and Balda for an "inspection" of the station. If we're lucky, they'll be able to organize the clones before the landing force is deployed. If not, then we'll hope they do no worse than Cody and Rex — in which case they have orders to destroy the station. Still, these guys will outclass most clones; they're commandos, after all. Luminara has already been warned that she should worry after the station stops transmitting signals.
"We were just getting ready to depart," the Twi'lek perked up upon hearing about the new assignment. "I think it'll take a few hours to load up and at least six to get to the destination."
"Excellent news," concluded Gallia, appointed the lead Jedi for this mission. "Master Unduli will be on Kamino in nine hours. Master Dougan and I — shortly after."
"Actually, sooner," I wanted to say. After the modifications, the Defender, which I was planning to fly on, was much faster than the Jedi equivalents.
"So you're with us, Rick?" Secura smiled.
"Where would I be without you," I shrugged comically. After exchanging a few jokes, we ended the communication session.
"I'll head to the hangars; my fighter should be ready by now," Adi Gallia informed me. "I advise you to use the Deltas — we'll get there faster."
Sure. Given the class of hyperdrive on the rings those ships used to travel the galaxy, my corvette would get there significantly faster.
"Actually, I have a fast corvette," I admitted. After all, the sooner we arrive, the better our chances to prepare. "There's enough room for us..."
"Sounds like an invitation, Dougan," the master said with a sly smile on her face.
"Basically, yes," I said without a second thought. And only after her unambiguous grin did it dawn on me that the phrase had a double meaning.
"In that case, I'll be waiting for you at the Temple docking bay in an hour," the master issued the order, and without saying goodbye, disappeared into the nearest corridor.
Well, well, well. Of all things, I definitely didn't expect flirting from a Council member. And why? She's like forty! I'm young enough to be her son!
On the other hand, by the standards of a galaxy far, far away, that's still very, very young. Luke Skywalker felt perfectly fine at sixty. And how old was he when he got together with Mara Jade? He even managed to father a child.
No, I definitely need to do something about all these women. They stick like flies to honey. I can still understand the Twi'leks — for them, that kind of interaction is almost like a handshake for humans. But damn, humans, Jedi, Masters — where are they going?!
Looks like the Expanded Universe authors were seriously mistaken when they claimed that a vow of celibacy flourished among the Jedi.
It was with roughly these thoughts that I went to get my Padawan. Sending a message to the Defender along the way saved me the trouble of having to go get the ship myself through the night city.
"Master, do you even see what time it is?" The door opened, and a sleepy Oli appeared before me. With disheveled hair, rubbing her eyes, the girl radiated confusion mixed with regret for the interrupted sleep in the Force. No wonder — she'd gone to bed about five hours ago. After the sparring session with Drallig, I dragged her to the training room, where we spent the whole day learning some combinations from Soresu. The style was equally new for both me and her. But, unlike the teacher, the girl learned slower — I, after all, have the advantage of Kun's knowledge, and that guy was taught thoroughly. Plus, he chose Niman after already having a general practical understanding of the other fencing styles.
We finished late in the evening. The Padawan went to bed, while I, having successfully met Yoda, went to the Communications Center.
"It's time for great deeds, apprentice," I had to say in an instructive tone. "And besides, greeting a master, even in the middle of the night, in just a nightgown — that's bad form."
"Oh!" The girl, instantly awake, realized that she was indeed standing before an adult man in practically nothing. And even what she had on revealed more than it should.
Disappearing into the darkness of the room, she started clattering with something, obviously looking for clothes. Right. The only problem is, how am I supposed to unsee what's already entered my field of vision?
No, I really should take up the full-fledged training of a Padawan — before I know it, Cin Drallig will turn out to be right. I don't know about him, but children have never appealed to me in any of my lives. And it just felt wrong — even if she were older. A Jedi and his student… Brr, I've seen videos like that on the HoloNet from the local equivalent of Brazzers. Earth directors shot similar parodies of that sort with far more talent.
"Give me an hour, and I'll be ready!" came from deep inside the room. Something crashed to the floor. Quiet cursing in Huttese followed. And such choice language that I felt the blood rush to my ears.
"Half an hour, and I'll be waiting for you in the Hangars," I warned. "Bring your armor — we're flying to Kamino. So you'll have time to change."
"Couldn't you have said that right away?" a plaintive whine came from the spot where the crash and the swearing had originated.
"Make haste slowly, young Padawan," I snorted, walking away from the room. "Half an hour, not a minute more! If you're late, you'll be sparring with Troll until my vacation is over!"
"May I be struck by…!" I didn't get to hear the rest, because the automation, without any fuss, simply closed the door to the room.
Yeah. If Padawans allow themselves to sleep in semi-transparent negligees that would do credit to any sex shop, what can you expect from older members of the fairer sex?
Sighing, I thanked the Force that at least Aayla Secura was the white crow in this stagnant kingdom of Jedi lust that surrounded me.
* * *
"General Tachi!" A low voice, as if passed through a vocoder, reached her ears near the entrance to the Archives.
Shaking her golden hair, the girl looked curiously at the Jedi hurrying toward her. He moved quickly, each step precise, causing a quiet clatter of the metal soles of his boots to echo through the corridor. His matte black cloak billowed as he moved, creating the impression that darkness accompanied him. An amusing association, given his reputation.
"Master Dougan," she broke into a smile. "Good to see you."
"The feeling's mutual," the Jedi replied, drawing level with her. "Mind if we speak informally?"
"As you wish," she smiled. Then, realizing the irony of her words in context, she smiled again and extended her hand to him. "Siri."
"Rick," his handshake was firm, masculine. And, unexpectedly soft — considering her interlocutor was clad in armor. "Master Yoda said you currently have no mission assignment."
"That's right," the girl agreed. Of course — it was the middle of the night. She wondered what in the blazes he was doing wandering around the Temple. "My last mission fell through, and since then I've been in the Council's operational reserve. Which is strange, given the shortage of Jedi in the army…"
"Eager to get back in the fight?" the Master inquired. He gestured invitingly. Siri, who had just finished her self-study in the Archives and had intended to sleep at least until dawn, sighed and followed him inside.
"I'm not eager to fight, but I understand it's necessary," she shrugged. "But time and again, the Council rejects my requests to be assigned to the army."
At night, even Jocasta Nu went to rest, leaving a few service droids in her place. Considering that only Masters could access all the most important areas of the Archives, and the rest of the information was publicly available at any hour, it was no wonder that an oppressive silence hung under the high vaulted ceiling. At such a time, even before the war, no one felt like hanging around computers. Except perhaps for the most diligent youngling bookworms, which she had never been, who might be there during knowledge assessment periods for a number of theoretical disciplines. However, since the war began, the Council had strictly forbidden anyone who hadn't undergone the Knighting ceremony from being in the library at night.
"In that case, I can help. I have an idea why you're not being given a new assignment."
"Really? And how's that?"
"I command the 13th Sector Army," he explained. Though it wasn't necessary — any youngling in the Temple knew the names of the Jedi who had distinguished themselves through their exploits. And legends were practically told about the only current sole commander of an entire sector army.
"Yes, I've heard something about that," the girl replied vaguely. She certainly wasn't going to tell the man how she spent her idle time studying the most famous victories of the Grand Army and the Jedi. Master Dougan had already written his name in history — Jocasta Nu had mentioned something about compiling a chronicle of the Jedi's exploits in our time. It was a laborious, terribly painstaking task — thousands of Jedi were currently fighting on the fronts. And each of them was a true example of heroism.
"So. Our area of responsibility is large, but there aren't very many Jedi. Especially after the heavy losses on Ryloth and Geonosis."
"Irreplaceable loss," she agreed.
Ryloth, like Geonosis, had become a true hell for all the Jedi fighting in the ranks of the 13th and 14th Sector Armies. After the Separatists had splintered the latter into small pockets of resistance and destroyed them with lightning strikes, of the more than three hundred Jedi under the command of Moff Ravik, no more than a dozen remained. And almost all of them died during the last battle of the Moff's life. Kli Rara, the teacher of her friend Garen Muln, an unparalleled Jedi Ace, had died during a bloody battle with General Grievous's armada in orbit over Geonosis. And this after she had managed to escape a previous bloodbath. Garen, who oversaw the Jedi Ace Corps on Coruscant's moon, Centax-2, took the news hard. In fact, now that Obi-Wan was constantly on the front lines, only Garen of her old friends remained near Coruscant.
Geonosis had also proven to be an inhospitable place. True, aside from a single loss, the participating Jedi got off with only injuries. Roan Shrike, Sia-Lan Wezz, Kento Marek, Soara Antana… Obi, while recovering from his own wound, had spoken with her by voice comm, telling her how hard it was for them. And after the incident with the discovery of the Geonosian queen and the infection of an entire crew with brain worms… At that moment, she had feared for her old… friend. But Kenobi, with the irony characteristic of his youth, noted that unlike Master Unduli, no worms had crawled on him.
"At the same time, the war requires ever greater Jedi involvement," Dougan remarked. "Master Yoda has given me carte blanche for any candidates I deem necessary. And you are one of them."
"And you came to me first?" Siri couldn't overcome her childhood habit of smiling in response to words or actions from interlocutors that she found endearing. In her youth, she had often smiled in Kenobi's company. And he hadn't shied away from her either. There was a time when Obi — the very one who had now become a wise and judicious Master — had wanted to leave the Order, and she had criticized him for it. Yes, many stars had gone out since then. And that spark that had been between them in their youth hadn't exactly died out. Rather, it had lost its color. Despite their mutual confession of love, they had never been able to develop it into something more. The intervention of Kenobi's teacher, Qui-Gon, had "set" the Padawan on the path of serving the Code. And the feelings that had flared up on board the ship that was supposed to be destroyed upon exiting hyperspace had faded, dimmed. Obi-Wan, without sparing her feelings, had "broken up" with the girl. The man who had helped her overcome her most unpleasant traits had trampled her love. In many ways, this had helped perfectly stage the farce of her leaving the Order, which led to her infiltration and subsequent destruction of a criminal gang.
The first and last attempt to train a student had ended with Ferus Olin, her Padawan, leaving the Order. The girl-Jedi who died because of Obi-Wan's student had been the trigger that led Olin to a life outside the Temple. For a while after he left, they still kept in touch, but with the start of the war, contact became rarer.
Sometimes she herself wondered if she shouldn't leave the Order, whose members, meant to be models of morality and honesty, duty and justice, were in reality not what they should be. Such thoughts visited her every time another scandal involving romantic relationships erupted among the Jedi. Quinlan Vos and Aayla Secura. Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura. It was rumored that almost every Jedi had some kind of attachment — the mysterious nature of the Order's members attracted the opposite sex.
Unfortunately, even Obi-Wan, who had so convincingly explained to her the need to strictly adhere to the dogmas of the Code, had deceived her. Rumors of his affair with a Mandalorian noblewoman were so fragmented and contradictory that for a long time she didn't believe them. Until she asked him about it directly. Obi-Wan had never been able to lie. And he probably never would.
"To be honest — you're the only one of all the candidates currently on Coruscant," Dougan informed her bluntly. "I understand the offer is sudden, and if you want to refuse…"
"I accept," Siri answered quickly, not giving him a chance to deprive her of the opportunity to get out of the Temple. The Jedi Master's hint that he knew the reason why the girl still hadn't received a single assignment after the mission to acquire equipment for "ice cutting" was as transparent as could be. Obi-Wan had put considerable effort into keeping her away from the active army. Her former teacher, Adi Gallia, had hinted at it very vaguely. And the girl trusted her like she trusted herself.
"Hmm… I didn't think you'd be so…"
"Expressive?" A smile appeared on her lips again. Really, she had to do something about herself. Otherwise she was grinning like a fool at everyone she met. She had picked up this frivolous manner during her training with Adi. And she couldn't bring herself to overcome her established facial muscle reflexes.
"I was going to say 'quick to make a decision,'" the Jedi corrected himself. "The thing is, we have a mission to Kamino…"
"I'm in," this time she smiled sincerely, not reflexively. The young Master appealed to her somehow. His open nature and simple manner of speaking reminded her somewhat of a young Obi-Wan. And Siri had always valued that type of person.
"Our transport leaves in about forty minutes," the Jedi scratched the back of his head, hidden under his cloak's hood, with his armored glove. "I have some business in the Archives, so I'll be waiting for you at the landing pad at the appointed time."
"In that case, I'd better hurry," Siri smiled. And again — she did it completely sincerely.
* * *
Her efforts to suppress a yawn were completely in vain.
No matter how hard Oli tried to fight off the remnants of sleep, it was getting harder with every step. From her room to the hangars, she had to cover a considerable distance — including numerous passages through the Temple's corridors. And all while carrying her armor, whose weight she was, actually, used to. But not when her sleep was interrupted in the most unceremonious way. As a result of the Master's unceremonious intrusion, she, in her attempt to quickly pull on the relic of the ancient Jedi, had fallen, painfully bruising her hip. And pieces of armor had fallen on top of her.
So, limping on her right leg, the girl carried on her back a travel backpack into which she had unceremoniously tossed things that might be useful on the trip. The armor set, neatly secured on a storage stand, thank the Force, floated behind her on an anti-grav suspension. Her disheveled hair, which she hadn't bothered to style, hung from her head in untidy strands. Her bangs kept trying to fall into her eyes and block her view. She had to brush them aside almost every minute.
What on earth could be so important on Kamino that they had to fly there in the middle of the night? There was a whole clone factory there under the supervision of Master Shaak Ti — surely there was someone who could handle whatever problems arose?
So, here was the fork. Wait. Which way? Straight, right, or left? She always got confused in this part of the Temple.
"Oli?" A voice sounded right next to her ear. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"
With a wandering gaze, the girl stared at the source of the sound.
It turned out to be a girl of medium height, with long, dark brown hair interspersed with reddish strands. Her hairstyle was neatly arranged, if you could call loose hair falling to her shoulders that. The girl was dressed in a travel suit of dark brown leather, hugging her slender figure. A wide belt with a baldric, from which hung the hilt of a lightsaber, marked the beauty (Starstone noted this unequivocally) as a Jedi. And a very striking one at that — the laced neckline didn't so much constrain as emphasize her neat, medium-sized chest.
"She looks familiar," the girl decided, sizing up the Jedi who had called out to her with an appraising look.
Unlike her, Oli herself was dressed in simple clothes, which she had started wearing after the dressing-down Master Windu had given her. An orange-brown tunic, over which she wore a fitted Jedi robe, comfortable leggings of the same color, and comfortable boots. After many months of wearing armor, the Padawan could no longer return to the Jedi robe, which sometimes chafed in the most immodest places.
"Do I know you?" she asked, unable to suppress a yawn. And only belatedly realized that such a cavalier address to a Jedi could have unpleasant consequences. There had been a precedent — thank the Great Force that her teacher hadn't remembered his punishment.
The Jedi let out a cute laugh. Which made her want to sleep even more.
"In the Halls of Healing, I dress differently," as if at the snap of a finger, her brain finally shook off sleep, and goosebumps ran down her spine.
"Healer Omas," biting the inside of her cheek until it hurt, the girl made a bow. Not a deep one — otherwise the weight of her backpack might have toppled her over. "I didn't recognize you."
"No wonder," Kaili smiled. "You're walking in your sleep. Where are you going at this hour? And with armor to boot," she added the last phrase, looking over the girl's shoulder.
"The Master said to get ready for a mission," Oli said wearily. Well, great, the moment of alertness was gone, and sleep was demanding its due again. "We're flying to Kamino."
"Is that so?" Kaili was surprised. "Then we're traveling companions."
"Oh," the girl drawled, suppressing a yawn. Was the teacher assembling a strike team, like Master Windu on Geonosis? What had happened there that he'd dragged not only her, but also a Jedi healer out of bed. "So we'll fly together."
"It looks that way," Kaili uncompromisingly pulled the backpack off her shoulder and hoisted it onto her own back. Nice — she didn't even stagger under the weight; there must have been about thirty kilograms in it. Well, fine. If she wanted to carry a backpack in addition to her own travel bag, let her.
"Shall we go?" Omas suggested, tossing her head in the direction where she thought the hangars were. Oli nodded silently. Then, slowly, she pointed to the adjacent corridor branch.
"The hangars are that way," she finally remembered.
"Right you are," the girl smiled, striding off in the correct direction. "You know, the last time I left the Temple was about five years ago — when I was still a Padawan."
"Why's that?" Oli shuffled along weakly, feeling that if she didn't reach a bed in the next twenty minutes, she'd fall asleep right in the corridor. And let her Master punish her then. She just couldn't fight off sleep! After all, she was still a child — she didn't have as much strength as an adult Jedi. Look, Kaili was striding along as if she'd been asleep for a whole day. And she'd probably been dragged out of bed too.
At the thought that the Master had seen her in her nightgown, the girl felt a surge of energy. Sleep receded for a moment — long enough for her to blush.
"Healers aren't the most traveled of Jedi," her interlocutor explained meanwhile. "Honestly, I'm not the best subordinate Vokara Che has. So I deal with what's happening inside the Temple itself. And those with more talent than me, yes, they often fly to the front lines and on humanitarian missions."
"And I thought you were one of the best," Oli admitted. "You've pulled my teacher back from the brink of death so many times."
"Honestly, I've never had any personal merit in that," Kaili slowed down so the girl could walk beside her. "The first time, he flew to the Temple after the battle on Geonosis. He had big problems with his inner peace. He was like a vessel shattered into pieces — many were like that then. Vokara said it was post-traumatic syndrome — Jedi had participated in a large-scale battle for the first time in a thousand years and witnessed the deaths of dozens of their brethren. And you know about the other two times yourself. We fear that every time he finds himself on the brink of life and death, something changes in him. For the worse. Death… I don't even know how to describe it. It doesn't pass without a trace."
"I suppose," the girl shrugged. "As far as I can tell, the Master doesn't take everything that happens too much to heart. Sometimes I even think that underneath the mask, he's not even human."
"Believe me, he is human," the healer assured her. "But we healers sometimes discuss our patients. And many have said that your teacher returned from his journey to the Unknown Regions a completely different person. Tougher, in a way."
"I'm ready to agree with you there," the girl nodded. "What normal teacher wakes their Padawan in the middle of the night and makes them fly across half the galaxy?"
Kaili laughed softly.
"Obviously, something serious is happening that the departure can't wait until morning."
"Well, I think he'll tell us," the girl guessed. "The Master never hides anything from me."
"Really?" Omas was surprised. "My teacher, on the other hand, often gave me 'food for thought' and then listened to my conclusions. Sometimes he'd even send me alone on some missions to see how I'd manage on my own."
"No, the teacher is different," Oli declared. "He knows a lot — I'm saying this as a former Padawan of Jocasta Nu. Even in the Archives, I hadn't studied much of what he tells me. For example, the code of the Jedi's ancestors."
"There were such things?" the healer was surprised. "I thought the Order had always existed in the form we know it."
"Yes, I thought so too," Starstone admitted. "In our history lessons, we were told about how the Four Masters created the Temple on Coruscant, and that's where the Jedi's path began."
"I was told the same thing in my time."
"But the Master says that a very long time ago, on a planet in the Deep Core called Tython, there were Je'daii who studied all aspects of the Force — meaning the Dark Side of the Force too. Then something happened there, and they fled to the worlds of the Republic."
"Amazing," Kaili shook her head. "Studying the Dark Side… that's dangerous! First and foremost — for your own essence. The Darkness changes us, makes us bloodthirsty, greedy, striving to create all kinds of evil, dictatorship…"
"Master Yoda told us about that," Oli agreed. "But the Master says those times are long past and hardly anyone remembers them. I wonder where he knows it from?"
"You know your teacher used to be the Padawan of the Jedi researcher Abhira?"
"Nope. The Master doesn't talk about his past."
"Well, that's his personal business, of course. Do you know who researchers are?"
"In general terms. They travel the galaxy, looking for new planets, hyperspace routes, and all that."
"Yes. And sometimes they stumble upon numerous ancient artifacts. For example, your Master discovered the holocron of the ancient Jedi — Ulic Qel-Droma — and delivered it to the Temple. It's rumored that after that, Master Yoda respects him greatly. And Master Windu, on the contrary."
"Is there anyone he trusts?" Starstone was surprised.
Kaili laughed heartily.
"I prefer not to think about it. The last thing I need is for someone to overhear such talk — then a lecture from the Master would be unavoidable."
"That's for sure," the girl grimaced. "He once scolded me for wearing armor in the Temple. Now," she pointed to her uniform, "I wear this while I'm here. And he also banned me from appearing in the Halls of Healing."
"And I was wondering what happened to you, where you'd disappeared to."
"Master Windu happened to me," Oli muttered quietly.
"That's true, it's better not to cross his path when you have some guilt on you," Kaili nodded.
So, chatting away, Oli didn't notice how they reached the external landing pad. The one from which they had once departed on the Protector.
And now, that beautiful ship stood waiting for the two of them. The light falling from the open maw of the ship illuminated several human figures standing at the ramp. In one of them, the girl recognized the Master — he was hard to mistake for anyone else in his inimitable black cloak. But the other two, in typical Jedi robes, shielded from gusts of wind by heavy brown cloaks, were unfamiliar to her.
"And here are our latecomers," the Master greeted them cheerfully, graciously taking both Kaili's and Oli's luggage from her. "Has anyone changed their mind about flying?"
The question was addressed to all the girls present — Oli, even with her eyes growing heavy again, could make out that one of her fellow travelers was Master Gallia. But the second one, a girl with long golden hair, she was seeing for the first time.
No one had changed their mind, so the Master ordered everyone to board.
"The mission ahead of us is not an easy one, so I advise you to get a good night's sleep," he said in conclusion. "And for you, Oli, that's an order. If I see you wandering around the ship, instead of fighting droids, you'll be cleaning the fuel tanks."
The Jedi, chuckling softly, quickly scurried up, discussing the teacher's joke about the Padawan.
The hatch slammed shut, and the ship's owner graciously showed the passengers all the necessary facilities. Oli, Kaila, and the golden-haired girl-Jedi, who introduced herself as Siri Tachi, immediately began unpacking their things.
As a veteran of the ship, Oli immediately took one of the bunks, closer to the entrance. The shape of the crew quarters and the nature of the lighting created a shadow in this corner, guaranteeing that the light from the lamps wouldn't shine in her eyes when she woke up. Plus, from here, she had a view of part of the corridor.
Master Gallia and the teacher headed to the opposite part of the corvette. Oli, having stowed her things in a locker, followed them, while her two other bunkmates began preparing for sleep.
"She's cute," Oli thought to herself, looking at Siri. The girl was in no way inferior to Kaila in the beauty of her figure. Comparing girls by the beauty of their facial features was a thankless task — it had been believed since ancient times that every girl is beautiful. Because there's an admirer for every one. So, if they were ordinary beings, they'd have been married off to some good men long ago.
In the cockpit, an old acquaintance, Kenny, was habitually occupying the pilot's seat. The teacher and the Master were quietly talking about something of their own, having moved to the compartment with the holoprojector, so the girl, noticing a welcoming gesture from the droid's manipulator, happily approached it.
"Hi," she smiled at the droid.
"And you stay well, little Jedi," the droid replied. "How are you doing?"
"Could be better," Oli admitted. "As you can see, I have to fly on a mission in the middle of the night to save the galaxy."
"A useful endeavor," remembering the treacherous nature of the mechanical robot, she wasn't surprised to hear sarcasm from him. "If you need help — ask. I'll cover you."
"You've always protected the teacher," Oli recalled. "Because he's the owner of this ship."
"That hasn't changed," the droid confirmed. "But the longer I'm active, the more I understand that he doesn't really need my protection. Especially since he has enough underlings without me."
"Who are you talking about?" Oli frowned.
"My apologies," the droid immediately backtracked, "that information is not available to you."
"What do you mean?" The girl's eyebrows shot up. "I'm your master's student. You can tell me anything."
"That's where you're wrong, young Jedi," the droid demonstratively turned away from her, and its manipulators fluttered over the instrument panel. "Starting the launch cycle. I advise you to return to the bunk and get a good night's sleep. As I understand it, a good scrap awaits us."
"You're deliberately dodging the question, aren't you?" Oli asked suspiciously.
The droid paused for a moment, then turned its head toward her and blinked its optical sensor.
"Yes. Now go back to the bunk and power down. The trip won't be that long."
"Nasty piece of tin," Oli snorted. The droid ignored her remark, and then the girl felt the deck tremble beneath her feet — the ship was picking up speed.
At the exit of the cockpit, she noticed the teacher and the Master, smiling like a Zeltron on spice, slowly walking in her direction.
Remembering the punishment awaiting her, Oli darted like the wind toward the bunk. One of the girls had already turned off the overhead lights, so, navigating more by memory and touch, the girl reached her bunk and, without undressing, climbed under the blanket. Judging by the muffled breathing, her bunkmates were sleeping like the dead — the Force responded with the complete peace that only a sleeping person can have.
Voices were approaching. She could hear the Master and the Master talking quietly about something — and, judging by the latter's cheerful voice, the teacher was telling something funny.
Oli watched from under half-closed eyelids as the door to the teacher's cabin slid aside almost soundlessly in the dim corridor. The dark figures of both senior Jedi disappeared behind it. The door panel slid back into place, and a second later, the distinct click of the lock echoed.
She let out a noisy breath, rolled onto her other side, and tried to fall asleep.
* * *
The planet's electrical storms were a common occurrence in this star system. The facility the Order had built here during the period the Masters knew as the Hundred-Year Darkness was inherently difficult for scanners to detect. And the natural phenomena made it virtually invisible.
To anyone who didn't know the exact location of the Jedi Order's secret prison, that is.
"Prism." That was the name it had in the Council's classified files.
Orbiting the sixth moon of the planet Diab in the system of the same name — a system devoid of life, useful minerals, or any other reason for anyone to ever come here — it was one of the most remote points known in the galaxy. Or rather, known to the Jedi. Since the Archives and their secret files, accessible only to lifetime Council members, were available to very few. And it was there that the unredacted pages of galactic and Order history were kept.
Sentient beings have a tendency to forget the lessons of history. And thereby doom themselves to repeat it. The Jedi had learned that lesson the hard way after the last Great Schism. Since then, not a single day had passed without the Order fighting every manifestation of corruption in the galaxy. The Dark Side, with its temptations, had to be destroyed once and for all.
Because what comes too easily to a being sensitive to the Force, what arrives carefree in dark thoughts, just as effortlessly drives them to commit crimes of unimaginable cruelty.
For thousands of years, the Jedi had stood guard over the peace and tranquility of the galaxy. And they would stand for another thousand more. If they could solve the complex puzzle the Sith Lord had devised.
The one who had orchestrated the training of Darth Maul, who had killed Qui-Gon Jinn. The one who had placed Dooku at the head of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The one whose plan was driving the current war. A slaughter in which the Jedi were meant to win. Had to win. Otherwise — chaos awaited the galaxy.
Mace Windu, as always grim in appearance and grim in thought, piloted his Delta-7, following the course plotted by his astromech.
Few in the Order and beyond knew that besides his masterful swordsmanship, the Master was an excellent pilot of anything that could fly. This had saved his life more than once — any action the enemy doesn't expect is the key to success. And if that was the case, it was unthinkable not to have a few aces up his sleeve.
One such ace was precisely his skill at piloting the Delta-7. A Jedi interceptor celebrated by aces. And one that was supplied nowhere else but to the Order. Mace had put considerable effort in his time into preserving that right for the Jedi — the right to dictate terms to those who signed contracts with the Order.
Because iron discipline was needed in everything. He understood that better than anyone. It was discipline that helped him keep his own dark echo of the soul under control. The Dark Side, which he used only for battle, and only in the name of Jedi ideals and the triumph of law and justice. The Sith of old would be horrified to learn of such a thing — using the Dark Side in the name of the Light. And Windu would give a great deal to look them all in the eye and demonstrate his ability to walk the edge.
But the Sith gave him a wide berth. The Fallen knew too well WHO that dark-skinned Korunnai was. And they preferred, like stray dogs, to attack those weaker than themselves. Skywalker, Kenobi, Dougan… Mace knew perfectly well why, throughout the entire war, he had never encountered any of the Dark Acolytes.
Dooku, an old comrade, a traitor and an enemy, knew all about Vaapad. And understood what a powerful weapon Mace's control over his own Darkness gave him. So he kept his minions away from him. That was a little flattering — the fear of defeat made these ignoramuses back down, give him a wide berth. Because he was the true weapon of the Light. And the moment anyone from the Dark crossed his path, they wouldn't be able to escape.
The Korunnai had sacrificed too much to achieve what he now had. No one except Yoda knew that in the past, he had trained as a Jedi Shadow. Ruthless training and hundreds of successful missions — all of this invisibly, piece by piece, had changed him. Hardened him, made him callous. To see only light and dark. No mixing. Ironic, considering that by drawing his strength from both sources, he was turning his own Force into something gray. Something he was obligated to fight.
Perhaps that was why the Grand Master preferred to make decisions that contradicted his, Windu's, logic. The correct logic. Yoda, for all his merits and qualities, was too soft with others. He left the right to be his punishing hand to Mace. And the latter always did what needed to be done.
Because someone had to do it. There was no other way.
Because often, those he relied on couldn't handle even simple tasks. He had to, as before, roll up his sleeves and do everything himself.
Honestly, Windu had nothing against Dougan. Until he returned from his journey into the Unknown Regions. And, unlike Yoda, he knew the true background of the boy.
Officially, the Order's chronicles recorded that Master Abhira had found him on one of the wild planets. Alone, abandoned by everyone. And, encountering no obstacles, had taken him into the Order, and later — as his apprentice.
Reality was less merciful. Abhira, like any Jedi Shadow, had tracked this brat's parents for years. Unclean, practicing both sides of the Force, they had spawned such an abomination. And the Shadows were tasked with wiping out that entire nest of vice. They succeeded in their mission, but the potential they saw in the boy overrode their own prudence. They brought the boy to the Temple, hoping he would make an excellent hunter of Dark Side adepts. Windu, like most of the Council of First Knowledge, was categorically against it. But Abhira managed to vouch that he would raise a proper Jedi. And, reluctantly, they believed him. And let him go on his further wanderings.
The boy, returning from the journey alone, didn't raise many questions. His teacher had died, and he, not knowing what to do next, arrived at the only place he considered home. Mace, taking the kid under his wing in the strike team, out of curiosity, applied his unique gift to him — the ability to see weak points. And there turned out to be more of them than expected. Mace said nothing, but inwardly he was glad. The boy's potential could secure him a place among the main body of Jedi. And the questions about him would be resolved.
But the kid surprised everyone. Abhira, for all his merits, was not a model teacher among the Jedi, and had no pedagogical talent. But he was stern in his upbringing, which played into everyone's hands, and was unconditionally loyal to the Republic. And if so, then he must have raised his apprentice with the same criteria. A trick that had helped avoid dangers, schisms, and mass falls to the Dark Side of the Force for a thousand years. A man devoted to the Order cannot teach his apprentice anything else. And in that case, without fully unleashing their potential, no Jedi could inflict any significant damage on the Order.
A similar technique had been applied to Obi-Wan and Skywalker. The idea of teaching a boy powerful in the Force, too clever to take Jedi teachings on faith, was dangerous. But that time, the Council members objected, in memory of Jinn, deciding to train the kid anyway. And the most loyal Jedi was assigned to his training. So that he, though trained, would not be tempted by the Dark Side. Who better to entrust this task to than Obi-Wan?
And so it turned out — Skywalker grew, matured, unaware that there was a world of the Force dangerous enough in inexperienced hands. He, the Chosen One, as they believed. And he was destined to restore balance.
Dougan, despite the apparent similarity to Kenobi's situation, managed to surprise. In less than a year, he reached a level beyond most Jedi. And became truly dangerous, given his origins. Moreover, the weak points had disappeared, which couldn't be true — that doesn't happen. And since that happened, it meant Dougan was lying about where he got such talents. Windu had hunted the Dark Side for too long to allow himself to be deceived.
But none of the Shadows had managed to find anything connecting Dougan to the Dark Side. That meant they hadn't looked hard enough. And he would have to do it himself.
Since ancient times, the most dangerous criminals from across the galaxy had been held in the "Prism." With the start of the war with the CIS, the cells that had been emptying began to fill again. And it was to one such "visitor" that the Master was heading.
The fighter gently touched down on the hangar landing pad. The massive bay door began to close — slowly, as if the mechanisms could no longer handle the task of ensuring the prison's normal functionality. That was partly true — repairing such a huge and secret facility would mean the end of the prison's secrecy.
So the sole inhabitant of this place meekly accepted his fate, which he had chosen more than five decades ago.
"Master Windu," a low, threatening bass from a sturdy old man with a bushy beard, wrapped in a worn Jedi cloak over his bare torso, greeted him as soon as he left the cockpit. "Glad to see you."
"The feeling is mutual, Master Albert. But an urgent matter brought me here."
"As always," the old man nodded understandingly. "Please follow me. You know the procedure."
Besides the lone Master Jedi, the prison was guarded by a hundred of the fiercest and most dangerous security droids, who faithfully maintained the "Prism's" security. No one ever appeared here except alone and only accompanied by the Master. Anything else — immediate death.
Most of the station was taken up by thousands of cells for prisoners. A small section of the common level — a bedroom for the sole observer. Conditions far stricter compared to how the rest of the Jedi lived.
"Master Albert, I'd like to meet with one of your prisoners."
"They are all at your service," Albert chuckled. "Which one of this rabble do you need?"
"CIS General Loathsom," Windu said quietly. The name of the being who had been the first to cross Dougan's path. Unfortunately, the Jedi had never managed to interrogate him — it was good that the Senate had made concessions, handing him over to the Order for further judgment. And as much as Windu would have liked to arrive earlier, the affairs and concerns of the Order tied him to a completely different part of the galaxy.
Albert frowned. His face now resembled a cold mask of madness.
"You must be mistaken," he said. "That general left the 'Prism' on your orders."
"What?" His eyebrows rose of their own accord. "How did that happen?"
"Two months ago, a girl flew in here, a Jedi Consular. She presented documents certified by your signature stating that the rebel should be handed over to her for further transport. I checked the documents for authenticity three times, and only then released the prisoner."
Windu felt the adrenaline in his blood boil.
It couldn't be! Someone had discovered the prison's location, treacherously broken in here, and freed his last possible weapon, the one that gave him a chance to expose the scoundrel.
"What did she look like?" he growled. "Did the cameras record her?"
"No," Albert's furrowed brow made it clear he had only just realized how he had been deceived. "They haven't worked for three years, I reported to you."
"Hutt!" Windu kicked a chair with all his might in fury.
He wanted to smash everything within reach. To surrender completely to the searing rage and not think about the consequences. Maybe destroy this entire prison along with all the scum it held.
But he couldn't. He was a Jedi.
He would have to find a new weapon. And begin searching for this mysterious Jedi woman.
"What makes you think she belonged to the Order?"
"She arrived in an assault shuttle — one of those you used to deliver CIS prisoners here. She was wearing our robes, and had a lightsaber pike with yellow blades."
"She used the Force?"
"Yes."
"What race was she?"
"Sarkhai."
Without a word, Windu silently turned and headed for the hangar. There was nothing more to do here. The trail had gone cold. And he needed to find a new one. Find a Sarkhai girl, a Jedi with yellow blades. And the search could drag on again, because, remembering all the active Jedi of the Order, Windu could swear that Sarkhai hadn't been trained in the ways of the Light Side of the Force for almost four thousand years.