A hooded face appeared above Kinman Doriana's holoprojector — the face of Darth Sidious. The man bowed obsequiously, greeting his master.
His real master, not Chancellor Palpatine.
"Report, Doriana."
"The Spaarti Creation has been completely destroyed," he said with a satisfied smile, expecting praise. "The assault transport crashed into the buildings, just as planned. The wreckage has been examined, and the investigators, as intended, found several lightsabers. Now the public blames the Jedi for what happened."
"Excellent," the corners of Sidious's lips curled upward. His master was pleased with his work. As always.
"I see disapproval on your face, Kinman. Do you still think the operation was wrong?"
"Not exactly, my lord," the man licked his lips. "I bow to your wisdom, but... why destroy the Creation? It could have served the Separatist cause immensely!"
The Spaarti Creation was a unique factory, capable of changing its production line overnight. The only economically profitable enterprise on the planet Cartao specifically, and the entire system in general. On the Chancellor's orders, Kinman had arrived here at the head of a clone unit to begin production of cloning cylinders. Palpatine had certain plans for them, but Darth Sidious intervened in time. He did not want the Republic strengthened — and cloning cylinders, capable of producing clones tens of times faster than the Kaminoan ones, would allow the CIS's enemy not only to replenish losses in the shortest possible time, but also to expand its own army.
The plan was laughably simple. As soon as the Republic took control of the Creation and began producing cloning cylinders, the CIS would invade the system and land troops. The available clone forces would not be enough to repel a full-scale attack, so reinforcements were called in. And a Republic Consular-class assault corvette, losing control, crashed into the unique factory, completely destroying it.
That was the official version of events. In reality, the supposed reinforcements were a farce — the ship had long been captured by the Separatists, was controlled remotely, and there were no Jedi on board whatsoever. But the lightsabers left at the crash site, the scraps of Jedi robes, and the bodies burned beyond recognition — all of this created fertile ground for an outraged public. And the cries of discontent would fall upon the Order. By the time the Jedi could figure out the situation, all the evidence would already be destroyed in the incinerators. The Order could neither confirm nor deny sending Jedi, as that would mean declassifying military operations data, which was strictly forbidden by the Chancellor's decree for the duration of the war.
A perfect combination. But Kinman was plagued by doubts — after all, the Creation could have been used for the Confederacy's benefit.
"This facility cannot be held under control by either warring side," Sidious explained patiently. "If the CIS had taken it, a strike force of real Jedi would have arrived immediately. And they would have taken it back, continuing the production of cylinders. I have no intention of wasting time on a facility that changes hands, no matter what it is. In such a game, it's easier to shuffle all the cards and deal anew. Especially when you can gain a long-term advantage from it."
"In that regard, the plan was very successful," Doriana nodded. "The Jedi will not be welcome here for a very long time — Lord Binali, the ruler of Cartao, will see to that. Even the local hero, the Jedi Torlis, who lived here for years, is now nothing more than dirt under the feet of Cartao's inhabitants."
"That's the idea," Sidious smiled again. "When the time comes to destroy the Jedi, not a single inhabitant in this sector, remembering the ruthless destruction of the Spaarti Creation, will say a word against it."
"Exactly right," Doriana nodded again. "Will there be further instructions, my lord?"
"No," Sidious replied calmly. "Stay on Cartao as long as needed, then return to your post on Coruscant." Doriana gave a slight nod of agreement. "Now, for something else. According to my information, not all of the cloning cylinders were destroyed. Why?"
"Ten thousand units were in one of the storage facility branches," Doriana explained. "Unfortunately, I found out about this too late. But I dare to assure you, no one local knows they are intact. Palpatine instructed me to secretly load them onto a Republic ship that will arrive shortly and deliver them to the restored fortress on the planet Veyland. The ship's commander has already contacted me — they are coming in for a landing."
"Is that so?" Judging by the surprise, Sidious did not have this information, which was very strange. "According to my data, they weren't supposed to arrive for at least another day."
"Should I not carry out the order?" Doriana perked up. He could arrange a covert sabotage, and all the cloning cylinders would be destroyed in an instant.
"No, act according to Palpatine's instructions," Sidious decided. "A few thousand cylinders won't make much difference. Let the Chancellor indulge his vanity."
"As you command, my lord," Kinman bowed in deep gratitude.
Sidious ended the communication session. The man leaned back in his chair, waiting for the Chancellor's representative to arrive in his quarters — to inform him that the loading of such precious cargo, saved in the distant branch, was complete.
As Palpatine's advisor, Doriana had managed to pull off a fair number of deeds for the benefit of the CIS, behind which stood his true benefactor — Darth Sidious.
Kinman Doriana was born on Naboo and had been involved in politics from a young age, in accordance with the planet's traditions. On this basis, he became close with an outstanding politician — Sheev Palpatine, a fellow native of the same world. After the latter was elected to the Galactic Senate, Doriana joined him as an assistant.
He himself could no longer remember exactly when his secret service to Darth Sidious began, but his memory insisted that this momentous event occurred after moving to the Republic's capital planet. Kinman feared that his service to the secret master would one day be exposed, but he never stopped working for two masters for a single moment.
After Palpatine entered the circle of advisors to the former Supreme Chancellor Valorum, on Darth Sidious's orders, Doriana began a relationship with a close advisor to the Republic's highest official — Sei Taria. A woman who was, in general, pleasant but obviously stupid. They parted ways after the Senate elected Palpatine as the new head of state. For a while, Kinman still maintained relations with her, but about a month ago, she vanished without a trace — like most of Valorum's assistants. Given that the Loyalist Committee had set a course for rapprochement with the former Chancellor, Sidious demanded that he resume relations with Taria, but the man was unable to carry out this task.
Before the war, Doriana, under the name Commander Stratis, was sent by Sidious's orders to the Unknown Regions with the mission to destroy the Outbound Flight — an experiment to surpass the limits of the galaxy. Kinman nearly failed the mission when an alien with an unpronounceable name destroyed his special task force of fifteen ships. However, thanks to his innate eloquence, Kinman managed to convince Thrawn of the need to destroy the Jedi expedition. But even then, things didn't go according to plan. The Chiss only destroyed the Outbound Flight's armament, intending to force it to retreat. Fortunately, the Jedi leading the expedition tried to kill him, and Doriana made his move, sending the remaining Trade Federation droid starfighters to destroy the expedition. Later, he informed Sidious about the exceptionally competent alien, and the latter planned to recruit him into his service later.
With the start of the war, Palpatine hardly used his assistant's outstanding talents, burying him in routine tasks.
But Darth Sidious did not forget his loyal servant. He arranged the assassination of the Jedi Dougan, though at the last moment, his master ordered the operation's objectives to be changed, shifting the focus toward an attempt on Palpatine's life. Kinman handled that too.
And now — the mission on Cartao. Which also ended brilliantly.
The man was roused from his thoughts by a signal from the entrance door. Glancing at the chronometer, the advisor noted with surprise that he hadn't realized so much time had passed. It was surely the commander of that Acclamator that had arrived for the cylinders, intending to invite the man aboard.
"Hello, Advisor Doriana," as soon as the door swung open, he saw a strange pair on the threshold of his room. A blue-skinned Twi'lek in a revealing outfit — leggings and a jacket, laden with weapons. And next to her stood a protocol droid of a model unknown to him. "I was sent to inform you that the loading is complete."
"Pleasant news," the man muttered, casting a glance at his packed luggage. The alien woman was probably the captain's servant — otherwise, there was no reason for her to be here. Kinman shared Sidious's dismissive attitude toward non-human races, holding the same views — all other races of the galaxy should serve humans as their masters. "Take my luggage..."
"Amusing remark," a voice came from the protocol droid's vocoder. "This worthless sack of meat thinks we're porters."
"How dare you!" Doriana turned toward the strange pair to rebuke the mechanical servant, but feeling a blaster pressed into his stomach, he went limp.
"Don't make any sudden moves, Advisor," the Twi'lek smiled. "Unless you want an extra hole in your body."
* * *
"Under the current circumstances, my dear," Count Dooku's hologram flickered in time with the thunderclap and the dazzling web of lightning that illuminated the sky from the palace grounds to the horizon, and possibly beyond. "But under these circumstances, the Confederacy cannot afford to continue wasting resources on your now unprofitable world. You may keep the surviving droids for yourselves."
"But you promised!" A middle-aged woman struck the holoprojector casing with her fist as hard as she could. "You assured my brother that you would give us full support! Our mines supplied you with rare-earth metals for a whole year...!"
"And in return, you received a contingent of droids, equipment, and military supplies that helped you first defeat the Republic and then the Loyalists," the Count reminded her. "It's not my fault that you, unlike your late brother, are unable to keep the planet in an iron grip."
"Jabiim is completely under my control!" the woman snapped angrily, grinding her teeth.
"Really?" The former Jedi raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Then how is it that your mines were blown up? Equipment worth billions of credits, built to special order — now just a pile of scrap metal. And yet you claim the Loyalists are completely destroyed. So who organized these sabotages?"
Moira Stratus couldn't find an answer. She just clenched her fists helplessly, trying in vain to quell the rage tearing her apart.
"With this, the Confederacy's cooperation with your world ends," Dooku concluded. "On behalf of the Separatist Senate, I thank you for the inexhaustible resources you placed at our disposal."
The holographic figure dissolved into the air, and the Huttese phrases didn't reach the listener.
"Don't you find it amusing that everything happened exactly as I predicted?" An alien woman emerged from the dark corner of the office, a sly smile playing on her face. "Dooku got what he wanted and abandoned you as soon as the planet became unprofitable."
"You're reveling in being right, aren't you, Lady Atroxa?" the sister of the late Alto spat through her teeth. "I wouldn't advise joking with me — one order to the Nimbuses is enough to ensure you don't leave the planet alive."
"How easily the Jabiimites dispose of those who extend a helping hand to them," the Lethan shook her head. "It seems to be a family trait."
"I have no desire to listen to your lectures," Moira looked into the Twi'lek's eyes without fear. "What do you propose?"
"Help," with a sense of complete superiority, the alien walked to a chair and gracefully sat down.
After the Jedi invasion and the death of Alto Stratus, the radical circles of Jabiim were left in disarray. Without a strong and willful leader, they significantly lost ground — until Moira, the fallen leader's half-sister, cold-bloodedly eliminated all competitors for the position of planetary leader and took control into her own hands.
It took her three months to finally subjugate the planet to her influence. Driving the Republic-loyal rebels into impassable mountains, she kept the enemies surrounded until they began to starve. And as soon as the tired and exhausted rebels decided to surrender to the victors' mercy, she exterminated every last one of them without a moment's hesitation.
Jabiim had become a truly valuable acquisition for the CIS. Rich in rare and extremely expensive minerals on the exchange, it practically gave them away for a pittance to Count Dooku, receiving in return much-needed medicine, provisions, and construction materials.
The crisis in the "friendship" came a week ago, when, for inexplicable reasons, every single mine on the planet was blown up. The unique mining equipment, as the former Jedi correctly noted, was beyond repair. It had been built to custom orders several hundred years ago for exorbitant sums, so now the impoverished people could not even clear the rubble to remove the bodies of the dead miners, let alone restart the mines.
At this difficult moment, the one who called herself Darth Atroxa appeared on the planet. Suspiciously resembling a Jedi, she nevertheless declared herself an opponent of the Republic. And she offered help in restoring the planet's only source of income.
Moira contemptuously rejected such an initiative, throwing the girl into custody. And she contacted the leader of the Confederacy.
"And what exactly do you mean by 'help'?" Moira asked with a smirk. How the Lethan had escaped from the dungeon, and how she had managed it — could be figured out later. Now, on the brink of despair, the last of the Stratus line decided to hear out the third party. She didn't even consider the possibility of turning to the Republic for help, after the bloody massacre her brother had inflicted on the Jedi expeditionary corps.
"I represent the interests of a state you've likely never heard of," she began from a distance. "But, unlike the Republic and the Confederacy, we value every world that joins us. Naturally, we are ready to finance the revival of your economy."
"What's in it for you?" Moira squinted. She hadn't believed in nobility since she learned to walk. "Jedi mercy?"
The Lethan snorted contemptuously.
"We are by no means Jedi," she said. "The Eternal Empire of Zakuul builds its relationships with partners on principles of mutual benefit."
"You need our resources," Moira understood.
"Yes," the Lethan replied without guile. "But, unlike the Confederacy and the Republic, we are willing to pay a fair price for them. Including providing military assistance."
"What would we need that for? Neither power is interested in us anymore."
"I don't think the Count would pass up the opportunity to get his greedy hands on the mines once they're operational," Atroxa smiled.
"And you're ready to challenge the CIS if their ships appear in our system?" Moira was surprised. You'd have to be insane to challenge those who have been fighting the Republic for a whole year.
"We are capable of destroying any invasion force WHEN they appear," Atroxa placed the correct logical emphasis.
Stratus fell into thought. The offer was extremely tempting. But both the Republic and the Confederacy had only taken what they needed from them, giving practically nothing in return. How could an Empire that no one had ever heard of promise what two superpowers couldn't?
"You said you serve an Empire," the woman said cautiously. "As far as I know about forms of government, such a state is headed by an Emperor?"
"Of course," Atroxa nodded. "We are ruled by the Eternal Emperor."
"It sounds like you're offering a deal that would cost us our sovereignty."
"What is better for your people, Moira? To remain poor but proud and independent, or to join a prosperous power that guarantees you not only protection and economic prosperity, but also fair treatment from the authorities?"
"You can promise anything," Stratus tossed her hair. "The Republic promised a lot when it took our resources. And when the plague hit, we were left to face it alone. How can your Emperor prove his intentions?"
"Now this is a worthwhile conversation," the Lethan said, as if she'd been waiting for this question. She approached the holoterminal, inserted an information chip into the slot, and showed the woman its contents.
"Would you be very surprised to learn that the Loyalists weren't behind the explosion at your mines?" she asked.
"Then who?!" Moira asked skeptically. Who besides those Hutt-spawned Republic fanatics would want such an outcome? Most Jabimites were miners — they would never destroy the fruit of their own labor.
"Death Watch," the Lethan pointed to the holo-images of two figures in Mandalorian armor, captured near the mines. Though she knew little about that people, she could clearly make out the massive explosive devices in their hands.
"What is this 'Watch' of yours?" Moira asked, calculating whether the Nimbus Commandos could handle a new enemy beyond their homeworld.
"A radical Mandalorian group that preaches terror to overthrow the current government," the Lethan explained. "These two are Isabet Reu and Dread Priest." She scrolled through the images, stopping at one where the pair was captured without their helmets — again, near the mines. "First-rate renegades."
"Where are they?" Moira hissed, feeling a desire to tear both culprits apart churning inside her.
"I imagine they're collecting their fee for the job," Atroxa shrugged. "And I see you don't know that Death Watch is cooperating with Count Dooku."
"What?!"
"Oh, don't act so surprised. Did you really think a former Jedi was being straight with you? He got what he wanted, and he doesn't need you anymore. The sabotage is enough to sever any ties with you. You'll never be able to restart the mines on your own, and the Republic won't extend a helping hand. So you've been very skillfully played for fools."
Moira looked at the Lethan with suspicion. It was all coming together too smoothly.
"And how did you manage to spot them during the attacks?"
"We? No. That information came from the memory banks of your security droids. I merely took measures to extract it from the CIS command post. After all, you so carelessly entrusted them with guarding such valuable assets."
"Enough!" Moira snarled. "I want both of them."
"My master is ready to provide you this service and hunt down the saboteurs. But he will only do so for an ally, not for a neutral world."
"If we join you, we'll be under attack from the CIS!"
"We will deliver a defensive station to Jabiim's orbit, where we will station a garrison of soldiers and equipment sufficient to prevent any invasion. Furthermore, I am authorized to cover the cost of restoration work at Jabiim's mines — as a gesture of goodwill — and to negotiate with you for the supply of the ore we so desperately need at market prices."
"Delivering raw materials from the surface is extremely problematic," Moira recalled, nodding toward the storm raging outside the window.
"For that, we will use atmospheric charges to clear the clouds from the atmosphere and ensure safe transport corridors for bulk carriers. And once in orbit, our warships will protect the ore freighters all the way to their destination."
"It all works out very smoothly for you," the woman said, chewing her lip. "But I would like to discuss this directly with your Emperor."
"That can be arranged," the Twi'lek beamed. "I've been instructed to inform you that the Emperor will contact you at the first opportunity. As soon as a free minute appears in his busy schedule..."
"The conversation must be in person," Moira objected immediately. She'd had enough of this HoloNet chatter. Dooku never bothered to show up here during the entire alliance — if her brother put up with that, she wasn't going to continue the bad practice.
"The Emperor will send transport for you," the Lethan agreed unexpectedly, without any objections. "In the meantime, let's place orders for your new equipment. Time is of the essence — and I have more work than I can handle."
* * *
Bama Brimu, who represented one of the wealthiest sectors of the Core Worlds — Himbarin — in the Senate, was breakfasting in complete solitude.
Frankly speaking, her diplomatic status was merely a fiction that yet another Senate commission hadn't sorted out, since all the territories she represented were currently in CIS hands. Ten long months of merciless siege — rumors from her homeworld reached her sometimes, but they were far too fragmentary to say anything with certainty.
However, there was concrete information about her sector's fate. The Republic had abandoned them, retreating from all systems at the very beginning of the war. Not a single attempt had been made since then to take her homeland back from the enemy. Well, no. There was one attempt — it ended in a colossal failure.
All she could do was keep attending countless meetings and silently listen to the ravings of other senators, hoping that one of these self-absorbed individuals would concern themselves with the fate of her homeland. But everything happened just as it always did. Which is to say — nothing. As if an entire sector interested no one in this crowd of power-hungry people.
And this despite the fact that Himbarin was a concentration of industrially developed worlds, rivaled only by Kuat and Corellia. And now, all of them were busy producing droids, which only complicated the situation for the active armies.
If only the sector's defense fleet were intact — she wouldn't worry about the fate of those people who had entrusted her with their care. But the CIS had crushed the outdated starships as soon as they invaded the sector. Even a star dreadnought hadn't survived.
And now, her homeland groaned under the metal heel of the CIS.
The beep of her comlink drew her attention. It had to be extremely important news to intrude on a senator's personal space at such an early hour — the Senate began its work after noon, and until then, sector representatives were left to their own devices. Considering that the sun had barely risen over Coruscant, whoever was trying to contact her must have serious reasons.
"I'm listening," she said, using one of the latest comlink models, into which skilled craftsmen had managed to integrate a miniature holoprojector. So, as soon as she opened the channel, she found with some surprise a tiny figure of a person in full armor on her palm. Bama wasn't well-versed in martial arts, but not knowing about Mandalorians — you'd have to be born in the middle of nowhere for that.
"You're an early bird, Senator Brimu," the voice said. Though distorted by the helmet's vocoder, it undoubtedly belonged to a woman. "Few of your colleagues can tear their precious bodies out of bed at this hour."
"And who are you, Mandalorian?" the senator asked coldly.
"You can call me Shea Vizla," the name was certainly fake. But it was something. "I have a business proposal for you."
"I don't do business with mercenaries and bandits," Bama said disdainfully. "Good day to you..."
"Even when it concerns your homeland?" Shea Vizla chuckled.
Bama shot her a look full of fury. But unfortunately, she couldn't gauge the result of her efforts.
"You're choosing painful topics for conversation, mercenary."
"I'm certainly not to blame for the current situation in Himbarin," the Mandalorian assured her. "But perhaps the person I represent can solve your problems. Of course, if we can come to an agreement."
The matter was taking a serious turn. Over the years of her career, Bama had spoken with shady characters more than once, but she always tried to stay away from all sorts of schemes and dubious deals. That was why she enjoyed enormous respect from her colleagues, many of whom, frankly speaking, didn't have spotless biographies.
"I'm ready to hear you out," she said quietly. Hearing a proposal wasn't a crime yet.
"My, let's say, employer is very conscientious about the problems of other worlds. Especially when the Republic abandons them to be torn apart by the enemy and washes its hands of them. And he's not too happy about the exploitation of beings by machines either."
"Good for him."
"He's ready to help you solve the problem of the CIS occupation across the entire sector."
"But there are over two hundred frigates of the Banking Clan there!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Even the Republic fleet gave up trying..."
"Unlike your Republic, we don't bury our heads in the sand every time a problem arises," the mercenary told her. "We have enough strength and resources to throw the CIS out of the sector."
"I suppose this is where you name an astronomical sum for your services," the senator continued the mercenary's speech.
"Believe me, my employer is well aware that after General Grievous's hour-long orbital bombardment of the sector's capital, little survived, and money doesn't interest him much anyway."
"Is that so?" Now it was the senator's turn to be bewildered. "And here I thought all noble mercenaries preferred gratitude in hard currency."
"That's how we differ favorably from mercenaries," a chuckle came from under the helmet. "We're interested in something entirely different."
"And what's that?"
"Your withdrawal from the Republic."
"Unacceptable," the phrase escaped the senator's lips more instinctively than under the pressure of logic. "Himbarin is one of the founders of our state."
"A state that abandoned the sector after... remind me, how many attempts did the Republicans make to reclaim the sector? One, if my memory serves me. They made more attempts for Ryloth than for your world and sector. Doesn't that seem like unfair treatment to you, considering your past merits?"
There was a certain logic in the mercenary's words. The ease with which the Republic had washed its hands of Himbarin infuriated her to her last nerve. But there was nothing she could do about it. After the Separatists conquered the sector, her political influence had noticeably waned. She'd spent months calling on senators and the Chancellor to send troops... but got nothing from them. She had to admit defeat.
Or did she?
"The decision to withdraw from the state must be made by the sector's government, not a senator," Bama shook her head.
"What government are you talking about?" the Mandalorian asked in genuine surprise. "The one Grievous destroyed? Or the hundreds of survivors who fled to Balmorra? Or do you think Lieutenant Barrow Oikunn will dispute your word as the only official of such high rank?"
Hearing the familiar name, the senator frowned. It seemed her interlocutor's employer had done his homework, possessing such information.
Barrow was the only officer from the sector's defense fleet who survived the CIS invasion. His family — wife and children — died during the orbital bombardment Grievous had carried out. To at least have a chance to settle the score with the enemy, the man had transferred to the Coruscant fleet. He was now a gunnery officer aboard one of the ships. And was it a coincidence that their joint dinner was scheduled for this very evening?
"Let's say I agree," the senator said, licking her lips. "Let's assume you really can free my homeland from the Separatists. But what guarantee do I have that you yourself aren't working for them, and that this isn't all a performance put on by Count Dooku to legitimately absorb another part of the Republic?"
"You may consider me a mercenary, Senator, but believe me — I have a strong aversion to traders and swindlers. The last doctor I visited diagnosed me with an intolerance for hypocrites and other vermin. But am I correct in understanding that you would like guarantees that after the sector is liberated, you won't have to endure pressure from either the Republic or the CIS?"
"Absolutely right," her mouth went dry. Bama felt she was stepping onto thin ice, but... the prospects were worth it. "Even if you drive back the droid army, the sector will lie in ruins for years! I doubt anything of value will remain after the occupiers — nothing that could be traded even for Republic humanitarian aid. Besides, I still don't understand your motivation — why would your employer want to help a war-ravaged sector?"
"My employer is the ruler of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul," the name meant nothing to her. She hadn't even heard of it. "It's a state deep in Wild Space and the Unknown Regions. We are offering you help in liberating your people from occupation, in exchange for joining us. Your territories will not be oppressed, and the population will not become slaves. With our help, you will restore your economy and eliminate the consequences of the occupation. And we, I won't hide it, will gain a powerful industrial giant within our state. Remind me, you're second only to Kuat and Corellia, aren't you?"
"You're well-informed," Bama narrowed her eyes.
"The job demands it. So, what's your opinion?"
The senator didn't answer. Everything needed to be carefully considered. Perhaps... no, she certainly wouldn't consult anyone. Given the mood of many senators, who saw Separatist droids around every corner, her conversation would cause nothing but panic. She had to make the decision herself — and only herself.
After all, if she was going to take power in the sector, could she rely on anyone at all — loyal allies were a rare commodity these days.
However, she did have one.
"I will consider your proposal," she said in a firm tone. "But if your ruler wants an answer, I want to give it in person. Especially since conducting such negotiations via comlink is a sign of bad manners."
"Don't delay with your answer," the mercenary snorted. "As soon as the Emperor is on Coruscant, I'll contact you and let you know the time and place of the meeting."
"I'll be waiting for the call with anticipation," Bama said coldly, intending to turn off the communication device.
"And one last thing, Senator," the Mandalorian's figure drew her attention. "The Emperor instructed me to convey that he would be extremely grateful if you could find other senators who would agree to join the Eternal Empire. Trust my experience — you won't regret it if you succeed."
"I'll do everything in my power," still with ice in her voice, the woman turned off the comlink, returning to her considerably cooled food. She needed to think everything through carefully — such decisions couldn't be made over a cup of caf.
* * *
Despite the throbbing headache splitting her brain into hundreds of tiny pieces, Oli was still glad her eyes had opened.
Her pupils focused on the ceiling, which was strikingly different from the one she remembered before passing out on Tipoca. And the surroundings were clearly not Kaminoan.
"Awake, sleepyhead," a familiar figure in armor appeared in her field of vision.
"Master," weakness was certainly present, but not enough to prevent her from smiling. She was, without a doubt, glad to see him. "Are you guarding my sleep while I'm on a hospital bed now?"
"If not me, then who?" the Jedi snorted.
"Where are we?" the girl turned her head, vaguely recalling that she'd seen this compartment somewhere before. Just from a different angle.
"We're on the Protector," Dougan dispelled her doubts. "We'll be on Coruscant in five hours. Had to make a detour to deliver Masters Gallia and Unduli to Christophsis — it turns out treating Jedi on Kamino is problematic. And we dropped Aayla and Siri off at Ord Pardron."
"Hm?" the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Secura is temporarily commanding the 13th Sectoral — until Yoda considers me healthy enough to return to my duties. And Tachi will be serving with us from now on."
"Oh, that's great!" the girl stretched, working out her stiff back. "I was out for a long time — my whole body still aches."
"Well, what did you expect — you went after a dark Jedi who eats people like you for breakfast."
"Actually, that was your order!"
"I didn't tell you to walk into a trap," the mentor shook his head. "That was your own heroics. But we'll count it as a practical lesson — call it the ancient wisdom of 'don't charge a tank with your pants down.'"
"Umm, Master, I don't quite understand."
"It's an expression. It means don't mess with something that's beyond your strength. You're lucky I didn't have to travel far to rescue you. Otherwise, you'd have become the seventeenth Jedi on his list of slain former comrades."
"Has he really defeated that many?"
"Yoda himself confirmed the truth of his words. Sixteen — and that's not counting the legion of clones he also dealt with. So you're incredibly lucky to have survived."
"How long was I unconscious?"
"A couple of days, give or take a few hours," the mentor shrugged.
"Wow," the girl's eyes widened. Then she smiled crookedly. "But I still woke up faster than you."
"Can't argue with that," and again that smirk. "You're a talented girl."
Oli felt that Rick had put some special meaning into that last phrase. But she didn't sense any signs in the Force that would make her wary.
"I'm glad you're pleased with my progress," she responded.
"Well, of course. Though you put in a lot of effort yourself to raise your level. Including — before you met me."
The teacher's tone grated on her ears. If she'd considered the first hint a coincidence, now the Jedi was speaking almost openly.
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand, Master..."
The Jedi shook his head reproachfully.
"The only thing I hate more than betrayal is lies," he said, rising from the edge of her bed.
"I..."
"Be quiet," the dark figure stopped at the foot of the bed, near her legs. Judging by the tilt of his head under the hood, he was looking somewhere at the blanket covering her. But the girl knew the man was thinking about something entirely different.
Swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, she watched with hidden apprehension for what would come next. She instinctively reached out to the Force to locate her lightsaber. But faster than the response reached her, the girl noticed the hilt of her weapon lying nearby, on the medical instrument table. It would only take a moment to have it in her hand.
"You know, I wasn't thrilled that the Council foisted a Padawan on me," the Jedi admitted, still not lifting his face. "But after you saved my life, feeding me your energy until I was brought to the ICU, it somewhat changed my opinion about the institution of mentorship. I developed respect for you — your restlessness, your curiosity, and your other qualities appealed to me. And after you started progressing under my guidance, I became outright proud of you. And of myself too. It seems," he looked at her through the eye slits in his mask. "Pride really is a sin. It clouds the mind and dulls the sense of wrongness."
Oli swallowed another lump in her throat noisily. There was no doubt left — her master knew. If not everything, then most of it for sure.
"You'll laugh, but the coma helped lift the blinders from my eyes. I started asking myself — why had my perception changed so drastically? Why, instead of my own complexes and selfishness, I was being overcome by concerns about how not to destroy but to build something new, to fix things. To save as many as possible. Including children, younglings. Even though I hate children in principle. Unlike you."
The Padawan lay half-reclining on the bed, afraid to move. Reaching out to her master through the Force, she realized he wasn't just closed off in the Force. If before she could feel him at least a little, now it was as if a bronzium statue stood before her. Without feelings, without emotions. As if not alive. And that was terrifying — so much so that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and her skin broke out in goosebumps.
She had never seen her mentor so devoid of feeling.
"When did you figure it out?" she asked quietly.
"In the Temple, before I met you and Ahsoka," the man answered without hesitation. "Suspicions arose after I came to — you have time to think on a hospital bed, you know. And then I met with Jocasta. Had a few words about her former Padawan. Educated, literate, well-prepared. Interested in the ancient history of the Order and the galaxy. You know, you underestimated your former mentor — she still noticed how you used the same terminal in the Archives as soon as I left. So I take it I didn't cover my tracks thoroughly enough?"
"The Archives duplicate search histories on the main server," the girl admitted, realizing silence was pointless.
"Yes, that's about what I thought. Find anything interesting?"
The girl didn't answer. And what was the point, when everything was already clear?
"Jocasta said that after that, you started raving about being assigned to the front lines. But I think you had a very specific teacher in mind. Am I wrong?"
"That's right."
"And how did you get around the Order's rules? Who helped you push through the assignment to me specifically? Considering that at the time I'd only recently returned from the Unknown Regions, and after Geonosis I left the Order, I doubt there were many in the Temple willing to help you. Was it someone from the High Council?"
Oli didn't answer. If before this question she was simply scared, now... One name could ruin any chance of a favorable outcome for this conversation.
"You're silent, so you're afraid of my reaction," Dougan concluded. He stepped away from the bed and began pacing back and forth in front of her, silently thinking something over in his head. Starstone had no doubt that he would find the answer without her help anyway. And he probably wouldn't be very happy about it.
The girl glanced furtively at her lightsaber.
"Don't even think about it," Dougan advised her. "I'm many times faster than you. You know practically everything I've taught you, but not what I know myself. Take my word for it — it would take me far less time to kill you than it would take you to get your weapon. You're a smart girl — you know that kind of trick won't work with me..."
He froze, cutting off his speech mid-sentence. The Padawan felt the Force condensing around her master. And it was far from the Light Side.
"It was Windu, wasn't it?" he asked with poorly concealed fury.
"Yes," the girl shuddered.
At that moment, she felt completely defenseless. For the first time ever, the one she called her teacher showed all the power he had been hiding from those around him. A huge clot of energy that could easily rival the largest star she had ever seen. But the Force emanating from Rick Dougan was not Light.
Listening to her sensations, the girl noted that her master was also filled with the Dark Side. Like ice and flame, they raged inside the fragile human vessel, simultaneously mesmerizing and horrifying. No wonder he hid this from others. Any Jedi, noticing something like that, would consider it their duty to engage him in battle and destroy the monster.
"He needed a spy next to me," Dougan stated. "That damned... can't let it go. Fine, I'll deal with him later. Who put you up to using the Force Bond?"
"Master, I..." the girl tried to justify herself, but Dougan was beside her with lightning speed. Oli felt the unbreakable grip of his armored hand on her thin neck. Her throat burned and the flow of air sharply decreased.
"Who!?" he snarled in her face. "You've been spying on me this whole time! Reading my emotions, thoughts, knowledge! So that's the reason for your success — you were receiving my knowledge directly into your mind! And sharing your own with me!"
"I... myself..." the girl wheezed, struggling to form words. The monster didn't release her neck, but the pressure squeezing her throat eased. Not by much, but enough so she wouldn't suffocate.
"Explain," the monster in human form demanded.
"Hard... to breathe..." she tried to remove his fingers from her neck. But she might as well have tried to tear a piece of cruiser armor.
"I'll break your neck if you don't talk," Dougan promised. "Now!"
"You didn't understand everything correctly," she whispered. "Yes, I saw everything you did in the Archives... Aayla Secura told me what happened on Geonosis. No one could explain to me what technique you used to destroy the droids. I reported what I found in the Archives to Master Windu."
"Tell me something I don't know," the man squeezed her larynx slightly.
"He took me to the Temple," she admitted. "We're good friends, like Ahsoka Tano and Plo Koon. And when I told him everything, he asked me to watch you. To report anything strange that happened. He told me to earn your trust."
"Why?"
"He thought you were a Sith Lord!"
"What heresy?! Though, given his innate dimwittedness... Wait, why 'thought' and not 'thinks'?!"
"He's started doubting his convictions lately. Why — I don't know."
A barely audible chuckle came from under the mask.
"Well, I think I have an idea. What did you manage to tell him?"
"Nothing!" Feeling the rage boiling up in her teacher, she tried to look him straight in the eye. "I swear by the Force. Even on the Salvation, I began to doubt you were a Sith. And when you were attacked and almost killed, it became obvious. I felt ashamed of what I did."
"So you saved my life because you were ashamed!?" he roared.
"Yes."
"How did you manage to form a Force Bond?"
"I didn't know it would turn out like that!" the girl sniffled. "Archivist Eitris wrote in her diaries that a Jedi girl saved her comrade's life this way during a war nearly four thousand years ago, feeding his dying body with the Force."
"Foolish child, aren't you," Dougan said, the intense aura surrounding him vanishing as if the very air hadn't been boiling around him a second ago. "Bastila Shan did save Darth Revan's life that way — only for the Council to later destroy his personality and create a new one! One loyal to the Republic, so the creator of the Sith Empire could destroy his own creation!"
"I… I didn't know," the girl said, tears appearing in her eyes. "I understood that you're not a Sith at all, it's just that your views on the Force are different."
"You linked our minds," Rick stated, dropping his head into his open palms. "What a… I can't even find the words."
"Forgive me, Master," the girl sniffled. "I meant well… Honestly, I said nothing to Master Windu — even after I glimpsed into your mind."
"Did you see much?" A bitter smirk sounded in the man's voice.
She nodded silently, sniffing.
"You know I'm not from this world?"
An affirmative nod of the head. The galaxy was full of wonders, and mind transfer was one of them. The ways of the Force were inscrutable, and anything was possible.
"My teacher, Emperor Vitiate?"
"Yes," Starstone felt a lump rise in her throat. Too big to swallow. The girl felt her chin tremble.
"The fall of the Order?"
A nod.
"The death of the younglings?"
Oli couldn't control herself anymore.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Sobbing and trembling all over, she felt like a little girl in a big world where no one cared about her. Abandoned by everyone, deprived of a mother's love. And doomed to be lost in a world completely alien to her.
But she had always loved children. Knowing that her parents had abandoned her in early childhood, the girl just couldn't accept the fact that a Jedi, the best of the best, would become a killer who would mercilessly murder innocent children. Cold-bloodedly, like a butcher carving up a bantha carcass.
This made it incredibly bitter. She wanted, like in her childhood when the Troll cut her hair, to curl up in a corner and sob — until Master Windu came and ordered her to be strong. To conquer her weakness and look danger in the eye. To accept her fate.
But how could one accept the fact that the "Hero Without Fear" would kill hundreds of children?!
"Come here," the master moved closer, wrapping both arms around the girl. Oli, feeling her head touch his chest plate, didn't hold back anymore and burst into sobs. "There, there…"
The pain that had been building up inside her for all these months finally found an outlet. She couldn't tell anyone about it — the Jedi wouldn't believe such a thing. Never. Even Master Windu wouldn't listen to her. And herself… what could she do?!
Reliving the memories of her teacher who almost died, she experienced all the pain he had endured in his past life. She saw another world through his eyes. She saw the present and the future. She saw terror and the murder of innocents, orbital bombardments, exploding planets. A rebellion crowned with success and years of protracted confrontation. Endless crises and battles. The impotence of the New Republic's power, similar to the one that allowed this war to begin.
The invasion of unknown beings from beyond the galaxy. Billions killed, tortured, sacrificed. Desperate searches for a path to peace. The fall to the Dark Side of Anakin Skywalker's descendant, bringing even more suffering to the galaxy. And yet another rise of the Sith, the extermination of the Jedi, chaos… and the triumph of the Empire — the successor to the one Darth Sidious planned to create.
Pain and suffering. The deaths of thousands of beings — Jedi, ordinary people, and aliens. She knew some, but most remained strangers to her.
A path that, if any Jedi knew of it, they would consider it their duty to prevent the future.
And her teacher's Plan.
To create a new state on the ruins of the old world. To return the Jedi and Sith to their origins and force them to serve not the Force, not selfish motives, but the beings that populated the galaxy.
A risky venture that was unlikely to have partners.
But perhaps, that's how it had to be?
She didn't know how long she sat like that, her cheek pressed against the cold metal of his chest plate, breathing the tasteless air of the corvette.
"Why didn't you tell me what you learned?" the master asked when she stopped crying.
The hysteria subsided on its own. It even felt a little lighter. The girl felt much better, as if she had gotten rid of a terribly heavy burden. Now, she seemed to be that fidget again who used to bother Master Jocasta. No need to pretend, looking her teacher and everyone else in the eye. No need to force smiles and cheerfulness. She could just be herself.
But at the same time, as she pulled away from her teacher, she unexpectedly felt warmth and encouragement coming from him. He wasn't angry with her!
Her teacher supported her, which meant everything between them was as before! Thank the Force, she had been so afraid he would stop teaching her once he learned the truth. Or worse.
"They wouldn't understand," she sniffled, her mind returning to her thoughts about her fellow Jedi. "No one…"
"You're wrong there," the Jedi said thoughtfully. "Some do sympathize with our cause and are ready to join."
"Really!?" the girl perked up, wiping her tears with her hand.
"When have I lied to you?" Dougan asked rhetorically. Seeing the girl looking at him reproachfully, he waved a hand.
"Masters Gallia, Unduli, Knights Secura, Omas, Tachi, and the Dark Woman — are our allies in the revival of the Eternal Empire with me at its head." Hearing the familiar names, the girl was stunned. How? Almost everyone who was on Kamino?! But Master Gallia and Knight Tachi were staunch adherents of the Light, just like Healer Omas…
Oli exhaled, furrowing her brows. Apparently, she had guessed how the recruitment went down. In the captain's cabin. It seemed the master hadn't wasted any time while she was unconscious.
But, if there were two Masters on their side, then…
"So, maybe…?"
"We won't tell the Council anything," the Jedi shook his head. Seeing the bewilderment on the girl's face, he explained. "Don't forget — we're bound by the Bond. I strengthened it while you were recovering. So now, it's not just you in my head, but I'm in yours as well."
"You've closed your thoughts to me," the girl stated sadly, reaching out with the Force to her teacher. Fair enough — trust would have to be earned anew.
"Yes," the man replied. "I have to have at least some secrets left. Over time, I'll lower the defenses — once I'm sure we can be honest with each other."
"But why didn't you break the bond when you found out everything?" the girl blinked. She was torn by resentment, but the Padawan understood she was to blame for what happened. "I betrayed you…"
"No Emperor can do without loyal minions," Dougan smirked. "Force knows, you're a pain in the ass like no other," the girl caught herself habitually puffing out her lips, about to take offense. "But I've gotten used to you. And since you're not going to turn me over to the Jedi…"
"I'm not sure they could have done anything to you," she mumbled. "Even if I had told them."
"That's true," the man chuckled. "Doesn't it hurt?"
He touched her neck with his fingers. Right where he had held her by the throat not so long ago.
"A little," the girl admitted.
"I hope there are no hard feelings about that?" Dougan snorted.
"No, Master," the girl said honestly. "I should have confessed to you earlier. But I needed time to come to terms with it all…"
"Next time, catch on faster, apprentice," the Emperor scolded her demandingly. "Now — you have ten minutes to get yourself cleaned up and get to the bridge."
The man headed for the exit.
The girl sighed with relief. The confession had gone far better than she had imagined. Oh, Force, she had even imagined her teacher pulling her into his cabin…
The girl, as if she hadn't been on the verge of death just minutes ago, drifted into a dreamy contemplation, imagining herself in the place of some of her teacher's supporters.
Already almost out of the medbay, Dougan stopped sharply and turned toward Starstone.
"Oli, goddammit! You were just a kid not long ago, and you're already thinking about that! Shame on you! Especially imagining Master Unduli!"
"S-sorry, Master! What an idiot! The Force Bond! So embarrassing… I didn't mean to…"
"Sure," the Eternal Emperor snorted, already more peaceably. "As if the contents of your head are a secret to me. We'll talk about what you think after you become a knight."
Even though he had left, the girl felt her face flush. But she couldn't resist the temptation to picture it again.
"What a little brat!" her teacher's shout reached her.
Satisfied, the girl got out from under the blanket and walked over to her neatly folded armor next to the cot.
Finally, she had been able to open up, to pour out her soul.
She should use this opportunity to save as many Jedi as possible from the fate the Sith had prepared for them.
* * *
"Were the searches successful?" Yoda inquired without opening his eyes.
"They have reached a dead end," Windu said after a pause.
Evening was descending on Coruscant.
The sun's rays filtered through the blinds of the meditation room where the Grand Master awaited the Korunnai. Seated on a soft cushion, the small Jedi was reflecting. On what? It was pointless to guess.
Mace had long been accustomed to the temperament of his senior colleague. His wisdom, directly proportional to his longevity, sometimes made one question their own motives.
As many times before, the second-in-command of the Order had come for advice.
"Fruitless are your searches, hmm?"
"Yes, Master," Windu exhaled heavily. "I… I was certain he was Darth Sidious. All these coincidences, almost a pattern. It's impossible not to view this with suspicion."
"Clear are your concerns," Yoda nodded. "The same I pondered, until Dougan opened up to me. Vanished all doubts at once."
"And yet, I still have certain suspicions," Windu began, but stopped short, catching the gaze of the aged master. "You are right. The investigation into Dougan should be stopped."
"Surely General Loathsom dispelled your doubts?" the Grand Master raised an eyebrow.
"No," Mace sighed. "When I arrived at the Prism, Master Albert informed me that the general had been kidnapped…"
"Most unpleasant news," Yoda mused. "How did this happen? Secret is the prison."
"A certain Sarkhai Jedi arrived at the prison with documents signed by members of the Council authorizing the general's transfer," Windu briefly recounted the secret prison commandant's confession.
"Dark Side tricks these are," Yoda stroked his tiny chin. "Not a single member of that race has been in the Order for many years."
"Precisely my point, Master," the Korunnai agreed. "Despite not fully trusting him, it would be foolish to claim that Dougan could have kidnapped a prisoner from a prison whose existence only Council members can know about."
"Even the version that the Sarkhai could be his accomplice, you do not entertain?" the Grand Master inquired, looking slyly at his colleague.
Windu allowed himself a smile.
Of course, he knew that his persistence and stubbornness on many issues had given him a bad reputation in the Order. But the Korunnai always placed the goal above the means of achieving it. If another Jedi had been in Yoda's place, such a friendly joke wouldn't have gone unpunished. But the wise Master possessed an extraordinary sense of humor. He just displayed it only within a close circle. A very close one.
"I admit my error, Grand Master," he placed his hand on his chest and bowed respectfully. "I no longer have any suspicions regarding him."
"Admit long ago you should have, that what is happening is the Will of the Force," Yoda said instructively. "Enemy to us Dougan is not. But, like the late Qui-Gon, headstrong he is. And unique his outlook on life. A pity to speak with his Master we were not able."
"I knew Abira…" Mace admitted. "Not closely, but enough to say that the boy went through a harsh school. The Dark Woman is not nearly as categorical as he is."
"The reason for his changeable character we have discovered," Yoda stated. "Glad I am that you have finally returned."
"Has something happened in the Temple?" the Korunnai tensed up.
"Trouble I foresee," Yoda admitted. "The Chancellor's position troubles me. Much attention and favoritism he shows towards certain Jedi."
"You mean Skywalker," Mace understood.
"And Dougan," the Grand Master added. "Too grateful is the Chancellor to him for the rescue. A conversation we had. Unpleasant. Changes to the army, Palpatine's office has devised — to unite the sector armies under the command of Council members."
"Perhaps that's the right move," Windu said thoughtfully. "The Chancellor vested power in Moffs who aren't the most diligent or loyal people to the Republic. The scandal surrounding Bailur and Ravik still hasn't died down on the HoloNet. And among the Council members, there are none who would neglect their duties."
"One of the new system armies to Dougan he intends to give," Yoda sighed.
"But, he is not a member of the Council," Windu reminded him. Then, after a couple of seconds, his eyes widened as he grasped what the Grand Master had left unsaid.
"This is unforgivable," the small Jedi heard his interlocutor's teeth grind. "The Chancellor, even with emergency powers, cannot touch the Jedi Order, and especially the Council, as they are outside his jurisdiction. He simply cannot…"
"Can, unfortunately, he can," the Grand Master sighed. "When commanders of the Grand Army we became, under the Chancellor's authority we fell. Directly dictate his will to us he can."
"Unheard of insolence," Windu fumed. "This violates millennia-old traditions…"
"And yet, so it is," Yoda spread his hands. "A private conversation with the Chancellor I had this morning. He demands Dougan be accepted into the Council — as his responsible representative. And the territory of System Armies Thirteen and Fourteen he puts under his command. As well as those parts of Hutt Space that lie beyond them."
"Outrageous. We should appeal to the Senate demanding…"
"This morning the senators voted for these innovations," for a moment Mace thought his friend had aged a hundred years. "And finalized our subordination to Palpatine."
"Great Force…" Windu was taken aback. "Dark times have come for the Republic. We should make more effort to find Darth Sidious and his accomplices among the senators. The sooner we find him, the sooner these political games end."
"Expected something else I did from you," Yoda chuckled. Meeting the Korunnai's eyes, the small Jedi explained. "Ready I was to hear that again in Dougan's fate you would take interest."
By the slight smile on the Grand Master's face, Mace understood he was joking.
"We swore allegiance to the Republic and democracy," he reminded him. "Even though I dislike Palpatine's actions, I'll have to accept them."
"With great humility," Yoda echoed. "The Chancellor promised to settle the scandal in the Senate over the near-defeat at Kamino."
"Yes, I am aware of what happened," Windu frowned. "And that was Palpatine and Dougan's idea — to send the ships guarding Kamino."
"Old thoughts torment you?" Yoda smiled. The Korunnai returned the smile.
"All is well in the end, fortunately…" and again a heavy sigh from the Grand Master. "Protected we have the home of the clones. Detail the battle Dougan will give when he arrives."
"He is returning to Coruscant?" Windu was surprised. "I thought he wouldn't have any free time with his area of responsibility expanding."
"Aayla Secura is temporarily replacing him in his post as Moff," Yoda explained. "Something else is strange. Jedi we promised to send him. Candidates he has selected."
"Yes, I personally issued that order," Mace recalled. "And who does he plan to recruit?"
Yoda, casting a heavy glance at him, began listing names.
Windu possessed an absolute memory. He remembered about every Jedi what was usually entered into the archives. And the longer the Grand Master's speech went on, the more bewilderment was reflected on the usually impassive face of the Korunnai.
"I don't see any logic in this list," Windu admitted. "Of course, they are all well-known, but… wanderers? What do they have to do with anything here?"
"More than once they went against the will of the Council. About Fay and Antilles, legends the younglings tell," Yoda reminded him. "Strong-willed and rebellious, alongside the dutiful and dependent. No system in this. As if by chance he remembered these names, having heard them somewhere. Something else is strange."
"You mean the Padawans?" Windu clarified, recalling several names in the list.
"Precisely. All who are left without teachers, he proposed to take under his wing. A new Padawan Pack to assemble. And to lead it."
"For over five thousand years we have adhered to the rule of 'one master, one student,'" Windu stated. "Unshakable this is."
"But, a grain of rationality there is," Yoda said unexpectedly. "Too many orphaned students in the Temple. Idle they are, drowning in their grief. Better to send them to him, would it not be? Much he could teach them — how to stand firm in a battle with the Dark, for example."
"That would be a useful skill," Windu admitted. "Especially given the amount of scum that has sprung up around here. If my opinion matters on this matter, Master, I have no objection."
"Certain I was of your answer," Yoda smiled. Then, glancing at the wall chronometer, he rose to his feet. "Let us go, the time for the Council gathering approaches. Dougan and his Padawan will be there. If any questions remain, personally ask them you may."
"Yes, Master Yoda," Windu, letting his "boss" go ahead, unhurriedly fell into step beside him. Despite the easing of his conscience, he still had questions.