"You have disappointed me, Baron," the leader of the Confederacy said in an official tone. "The failure of such a successful operation as the attack on Tipoca City..."
Nax flinched as if the Separatist leader had struck him in the face.
"My lord, I could have completed the mission, but I was hindered..."
"You had a Zabrak for dealing with Jedi problems," the Count reminded him. "And you failed."
"I was opposed by a very powerful Jedi!" the Baron added another argument.
"I know that, Baron," Dooku said wearily. "That's precisely why you and Savage Opress were involved in the operation. The latter is at the bottom of the Kaminoan ocean; Grievous completed his part of the assignment... You are the only one I have complaints about."
"Give me another chance, my lord!" Kirvan appealed to him fervently. "I... I will find and kill him! Yes, he is strong, but I am stronger. The Dark Side gives me everything I need..."
"That is so, Baron," Dooku smirked, finishing his inspection of the fallen Jedi secured in a force-powered, anti-Jedi trap. Having confirmed that the restraints on the prisoner's hands and legs held him more firmly than the manipulators of the MagnaGuards present could, the Count gestured to his bodyguards that they could proceed.
"Dooku!" the Baron shouted, seeing the former Jedi leave the cell as two MagnaGuards approached, their electrostaffs at the ready. "Don't you dare! I'm on your side..."
"I am sorry, my friend," the aged Sith cast a farewell glance at him. "But you place too much importance on words. When my servants are finished with you, you will fully understand what it means to disappoint me."
* * *
"I am sorry, Senator Chuchi," the Chancellor said, putting on a compassionate expression, "but the actions of the Trade Federation..."
And so it goes every day for the last eleven years.
Hour after hour, he had to listen to these eternally whining senators, so greedy and busy lining their own pockets instead of solving truly important problems. Though, if the Senate were even half as effective as it is now, the collapse of the galaxy would have been delayed by decades.
Instead, he had to do everything himself. No, even while conducting an internal monologue with himself, Sidious could not say he was tired of political intrigue. No. They were his source of inspiration. Performances in human life so real that sometimes you truly believe in their sincerity.
Well, for example, Senator Riyo Chuchi.
A twenty-five-year-old female representative from the planet Pantora, in the Outer Rim, in the Sujimis sector. An idealist to the core. But it's forgivable — she's only been in the Senate a short time, and naively believes she can change something in this state machine mired in impenetrable bureaucracy.
She communicates very closely with Senator Amidala, who influences most of the Pantoran's decisions. So now, having failed to get the decision so necessary for Pantora from the Senate, she came to beg it from the Chancellor.
"My dear, if I could," Palpatine raised his hands to the heavens in false modesty, "I would certainly send an army to lift the Trade Federation's blockade of your world. But unfortunately, the Senate still believes the Federation senator's words that the reason for the blockade is your payment arrears. I dare to remind you that in that case, the Neimoidians' actions are completely legal."
"But it's all repeating itself!" the girl cried out. "The blockade of Naboo unfolded according to the same scenario!"
"You exaggerate," he protested, though he knew perfectly well that was exactly how it was.
The Pantoran had greatly inconvenienced him during the first attempt to pass the 'Sector Governance Decree.' Together with Amidala, Organa, and Mothma, they decisively managed to get the bill sent back for revision. Well, it turned out even better — the revised bill was passed on the first reading. While his main opponents were busy with their own affairs.
Chuchi was listening to Chairman Papanoida's tearful revelations that the planet, which owed the Trade Federation several hundred million credits for the supply of essential goods, was on the verge of famine. Disgruntled citizens demanded decisive measures from the government — up to lifting the blockade by joining the Confederacy. The irony in this situation was that it was the Assembly that gave Papanoida his authority that had embezzled all the funds meant for purchasing essential goods.
Fortunately, the ships of the 15th Sector Army had to go to support the troops of the neighboring 18th and 19th, eliminating mass breakthroughs by CIS forces. And sending any ship larger than a corvette to the planet was extremely problematic, given that the blockade was being carried out by a Lucrehulk-class vessel.
So now the blockade would last as long as necessary to squeeze Pantora out of the Republic.
In Palpatine's politics, little could surprise him. But Pantora was a thing unto itself. Strategically, the planet had little to offer the Republic — the region was subsidized, no wonder they had nothing to pay the Trade Federation with. But strangely, the Pantorans had significant weight in the Senate, even without their political allies.
Palpatine, despite his attempts, could not remove Senator Amidala from the political struggle. Introducing the former queen of Naboo into the Senate Loyalist Committee had only slightly weakened her influence on other senators. The crises that Palpatine orchestrated on her home planet, such as creating an underground Separatist laboratory or luring the Gungans to the CIS side, also had little success. Even Anakin's jealousy, intensified after Amidala's mission during which she encountered her former lover, Rush Clovis, did not throw her off her chosen course of opposing Palpatine's intrigues.
Palpatine felt no anger or irritation over failures, perceiving them as another game of dejarik in which he would inevitably win.
Ever since Captain Panaka told him about Skywalker and Amidala's secret wedding, he had used the situation for his own purposes. The boy was still too young and susceptible to emotions, which inexorably undermined the Jedi dogmas in his head. Love for the senator and the accompanying feelings, anxieties — that would ultimately lead him to the Dark Side. Being the only true friend of the young Jedi Knight, the Chancellor always listened to his worries, sharing advice, including cautiously hinting at a harsher attitude toward his beloved. By cultivating in the boy a desire for total control, Palpatine could confidently say that he had not only destabilized the atmosphere in Amidala's home, making Anakin increasingly demand more attention from her, but also planted in his future apprentice's head an attachment to his own wisdom. Someday, when he had to choose, he would inevitably side with the one who never sought to limit his abilities. On the side of his good friend — Chancellor Palpatine.
Sheev smiled furtively, pulling away from his thoughts.
Ah yes, Senator Chuchi... It turned out she was still saying something while he was occupied with far more important thoughts.
"My dear," he began with perfunctory politeness, "with all my love for you and Pantora, I cannot and have no right to force the Trade Federation to lift the blockade. I am sorry."
"I understand," the girl looked extremely dejected. "Perhaps I can change the Senate's opinion at tomorrow's session. Chairman Papanoida is arriving tomorrow morning to make a personal statement."
"I would only be glad of that," the Chancellor lied, gallantly rising from his seat to escort the girl to the door.
Naive young fool. Who would let you? Especially since Count Dooku will soon make his move. Papanoida, with his extensive connections, is needed by the Confederacy. His spies could outmatch both the Republic's intelligence as a whole and the Bothan network in particular. A wonderful gift for the Confederacy after the 'failure' on Kamino.
"Perhaps the Senate will change its decision if you express your disagreement with the Trade Federation's actions," the alien woman suddenly suggested.
"I cannot do that, Senator Chuchi," Sidious said slightly irritably. "As the head of the Republic, I simply cannot afford to take sides in an internal conflict."
The door leading out of the Chancellor's office opened, washing over Palpatine with a cacophony of voices from the corridor. The Senate, even during a break, was an eternally arguing, restless hive. How gladly he would dissolve them all, but then how to govern the sectors? The time to replace senators with Moffs and governors had not yet come — even with emergency powers, Palpatine preferred to tighten the screws gradually. He could not arouse suspicion — it was enough that discontent with his interference was already arising among the Jedi.
"But our planet is in danger!" Chuchi exclaimed. What a persistent one!
"Chancellor," turning his head, Palpatine allowed himself a smile. And here was a way to interrupt the tiresome conversation.
"Grand Moff Dougan," another toy in his hands. An ambitious Jedi who would restore order in the Outer Rim for him. Though, he was another tool the Chancellor used wisely. "Glad to see you."
"As am I," the figure in a black cloak over armor bowed his head respectfully. "Senator Chuchi."
"General," the girl glanced at the Chancellor one last time. But this time, she understood perfectly that the conversation was over. "Still, I hope for your help."
"I will do everything I can," Palpatine promised vaguely, as always in such matters, immediately dismissing the Pantora situation from his mind. "I have been expecting you, my friend. Let's go into the office."
The Jedi paused for a moment, looking toward the departing senator. Palpatine, taking advantage of the fact that the Jedi couldn't see his face, chuckled contentedly. Yes, by galactic standards, Chuchi was young and attractive. But she was not human — even if her race was related to humans. However, Palpatine had clear plans for those destined to be servants in his future Empire. The Empire of Man.
"Looks like trouble on Pantora," the Jedi voiced his thoughts as he sat down in one of the four visitor chairs. Palpatine, settling on the other side of his desk, mentally applauded his own thoughts. Isard had reported that the young Jedi had a penchant for non-human females. A minor violation of the Code that many Order members indulged in. Worth thinking about how to use this in the future.
"The planet owes the Trade Federation a considerable sum," Palpatine answered simply. "And they are trying to solve their problems through Republic intervention. A futile attempt to present internal problems as Separatist expansion."
"Indeed," a chuckle came from under the Jedi's mask. "An interesting way to solve one's own problems."
"To my deepest regret," Palpatine put on a sad expression, "such things are not so rare. But let's not occupy your attention with such excesses of my work. Allow me to congratulate you on your promotion and entry into the High Council of the Jedi Order."
"I humbly thank you, Supreme Chancellor," the Jedi replied. "I am flattered by such a high honor bestowed upon me. However, the Masters were not too pleased with your interference in the internal affairs of the Order."
Palpatine smiled, catching the irony. Internal affairs, indeed.
"As regrettable as it is to say this," the Nabooian spread his hands, "the Council and I too often disagree on many issues. And in such a situation, I need people loyal to the Republic in an organization that has enjoyed privileges for millennia in exchange for protecting our state."
"Yes, unfortunately many Jedi have forgotten that their ancestors swore to maintain peace in the galaxy when the Order was allowed to settle on Coruscant," to be honest, Palpatine was not surprised to hear from the young Jedi the provisions of one of the oldest treaties. It was hard to remember, in the general mass, that among the Jedi, besides Anakin, there was someone else worthy of attention. "However, I am not one of them."
"Believe me, it does not go unnoticed on my part," Palpatine smiled. "You performed excellently in the position of Moff of the 13th Sector Army. Given the complete chaos on the Outer Rim, in the context of our conversation at the Opera, I thought you would not refuse to help the Republic by bringing peace to an even larger territory. Especially after conversations with the representative of the Hutt Council, who practically demanded that I include their territories in one, rather than four, sector armies, since relations with representatives of three of them are not the most working. Giving in to criminals is not my policy, but the Republic's position, between us, is shaky. We cannot allow the Hutts to join Count Dooku. Of course, you may refuse..."
Palpatine uttered the last phrase in such a tone that the interlocutor would feel guilty if he suddenly decided to refuse. Jedi, even though sensitive to the Force, remain the same sentient beings. Manipulating their minds was the direct duty of the Sith.
"I am honored by the trust placed in me," Dougan said. "And I cannot even imagine how many problems your excellency might face after this. So I will under no circumstances put you in an awkward position by going against your will."
'Splendid,' Palpatine smiled to himself. 'Eliminate the threats on the Outer Rim, bring peace to those territories. And spend all your resources, all your ships, all your supporters on it, so that the New Order does not face a faction capable of challenging it.'
Dougan's appointment as Grand Moff served several purposes. First, with his help, Palpatine intended to eliminate the discontent with the Republic that existed on the Outer Rim. To rein in the aliens, showing them that the Chancellor cared about their problems and suffering. Second, to get rid of a potential danger in the form of the fleet being built on Rendili by order of Christophsis and inevitably to be handed over to Dougan. Third, Jabba himself had placed a weapon in Palpatine's hands with his demands to change the borders of the 13th Sector. Now, Dougan's troops would be able to keep the entire territory of Hutt Space under control — when the time came, this army would prove indispensable in destroying the criminal cartels and capturing the planets of these slugs. Fourth, to spur Anakin's painful self-conceit, who rightly considered himself the most gifted Jedi and talented commander. In general, compared to other Jedi, Anakin indeed possessed extraordinary abilities in these areas. However, his egocentrism needed to be curbed by teaching him a few extremely painful lessons. After that — extend a friendly hand, come to his aid, offer a shoulder, and give some advice so that the young Jedi would continue to eat out of his hand.
'Tell me your strengths, and I will know how to neutralize them; tell me your greatest fear, and I will make you face it; tell me what you value most, and I will understand what you can be deprived of; tell me what you passionately desire, and I will deny it to you.'
So his teacher, Darth Plagueis, had told him, teaching the young Palpatine the wisdom of the Force. And it was not to say that he was wrong about anything.
"I heard that Aayla Secura is replacing you during your leave," the Chancellor recalled.
"That is so. She is a capable Jedi, and I think she will manage while I am on leave," the Jedi said. "However, even on leave, I keep my finger on the pulse. My apprentice is currently conducting purchases for the army's needs."
"That is a great responsibility," the Chancellor remarked. "Is your Padawan so well-versed that she can independently figure out what the clones need?"
"Of course not," the Jedi laughed quietly. "I prepared the requisitions long ago — she only needs to process each one through the managers. Even a droid could handle that."
"Ah, in that case, I am at ease," Sidious smiled.
Unfortunately, despite the direct subordination of Grand Moffs to the Chancellor, Dougan was still a member of the Council, which seemed to have decided not to repeat the same mistakes as with Master Belaba, who had fallen into a coma after heavy battles. And he had taken a wait-and-see position, allowing Dougan's psyche to calm down after a year of continuous battles. Of course, it would have been more advantageous for Palpatine for the Jedi to immediately assume his duties and restore order in the Outer Rim as quickly as possible. But he could not force him either — even as a Moff, he was entitled to leave. He could not allow such a valuable asset to 'burn out' without completing the tasks assigned to him.
"I understand that I am placing an overwhelming burden on your shoulders — to hold three oversectors at once," Palpatine said sympathetically. "But there are so few Jedi in the Order who can be entrusted with such a task. Especially among those I can fully trust."
"I do not question your will, but what about Skywalker?" Palpatine was somewhat surprised by the question. As far as he had been informed, there was a peculiar enmity between Dougan and Anakin — the Chancellor had sensed it at the Opera, and his spies regularly reported details. Every meeting, every conversation between the two turned into a verbal sparring match. And Anakin himself often spoke of the 'overreaching' Jedi whom Yoda favored for some unknown reason.
But the General seemed to be treading on very thin ice.
Many in the Council did not like that the greatest Jedi in the Order's history had grown close to a politician. Perhaps they had even enlisted Dougan's support to find out more than they themselves knew. A clever move.
"Anakin is my friend," the Chancellor admitted. "I have known him since he was a child. But many might perceive such an appointment as an abuse of my power in favor of my acquaintances. And fighting corruption — in all its forms — is my foremost duty. And, honestly, I hope this stays between us; Anakin is not as wise as you to shoulder such responsibility."
The Chancellor looked at the Jedi with a tired expression, tracking his reaction. Of course, if he were without his mask, his facial expression would have revealed much more. But he had to make do with what he had.
"Of course, Your Excellency, this conversation will remain between us," the Jedi nodded. "I am not one to talk, and with Skywalker we have... complicated relations."
"As with all sentient beings in this galaxy," Sheev smiled. So that was it. So Anakin had not exaggerated when he said this Jedi had an extremely biased view of him. This should be exploited.
'Tell me your greatest fear, and I will make you face it; tell me what you value most, and I will understand what you can be deprived of.'
"General," the Nabooian addressed his interlocutor. "Rick, if you allow me to call you that when we are alone."
"As Your Excellency wishes," the Jedi submissively yielded the leading role in the conversation to the Chancellor. As befits a soldier speaking with the Supreme Commander. 'Splendid,' Palpatine thought, drawing out the word in his mind. A submissive Jedi. A good puppet.
"I would like to entrust you, my friend, with a mission. Of course, if you don't mind interrupting your leave," a slight smile played on the Chancellor's face.
"Whatever you command," a slight nod from the Jedi. Oh, even so... was he truly ready to carry out any mission? Even if it was not to his liking?
"As you may know, the Republic's deposits are held with the InterGalactic Banking Clan," Palpatine leaned back in his luxurious chair. "At the moment, my administration is preparing a bill to purchase new batches of clones from Kamino — the last ones that will be ready this decade. I think it's no secret that their method of clone production, though high-quality, is time-consuming?"
"Yes," the Jedi nodded. "The Council discussed something similar. Perhaps next year Kamino will deliver us the last batch of clones that can reach maturity in the near decade."
"This is a very big problem," the Chancellor put on a sad expression. "We are losing too many soldiers. There are so many 'hot spots' in the galaxy that the available number of clones is simply insufficient. The armies, like firefighting crews, move from one battle to another. Leaving behind liberated but unprotected worlds. We simply cannot establish outposts to defend each of the liberated planets — we just don't have enough clones to protect such a vast territory."
"The army needs more clones," the Jedi said understandingly.
"Exactly. Therefore, I want to send my plenipotentiary representative to the Muun — to inspect the Republic's finances, to understand whether we can continue this war, or whether dark times await us when Count Dooku's droid army will dominate the galaxy."
"You can be at ease about the sectors where my armies are stationed," the Jedi chuckled smugly. "As soon as we gather strength, there won't be a tin can left there."
"If only it were like that in every oversector," Palpatine said dreamily. "But I'm afraid final victory is very far away. That's why I need to know — how long we can still resist. Or perhaps we should start negotiations to avoid total defeat."
"You want me to accompany the senator you will send to Scipio?" Palpatine felt that he was facing an extremely perceptive subordinate. 'He could become a problem one day,' Sidious judged coldly. He would have to get rid of him if Dougan could not fit within the framework of the New Order.
"Yes, Rick, you are absolutely right," the Chancellor said with feigned weariness. "The InterGalactic Banking Clan finances both sides of the conflict. Of course, I trust Senator Amidala... But I would prefer her to be accompanied by someone I trust unconditionally."
A dangerous moment. Much could go wrong. He might refuse, and then the little multi-step plan would not work.
"Um... the thing is, I'm practically not acquainted with the senator, and to be honest," the Jedi hesitated, "I don't much like those who advocate for cutting military spending in the midst of a conflict. I hope it doesn't make things worse."
'The worse, the better, my boy,' Sidious could have said. But Palpatine preferred another option.
"Circumstances require us to interact with those who are not particularly pleasant to us, my friend," Palpatine smiled with feigned 'guilt.' "I can consider you my friend, can't I, Rick?"
"Of course, Your Excellency," excellent. The pawn knew her place and did not overstep, unlike the late Master C'baoth, who unceremoniously switched to personal communication whenever he deemed it necessary. "I will carry out your assignment."
Palpatine once again mentally thanked his teacher for his wisdom. It seemed he had another opportunity to push Anakin closer to the Dark Side.
"Then there's no need to delay," Palpatine smiled. "I will contact Senator Amidala immediately."
* * *
"Hi!"
Ahsoka, trudging dejectedly past the Archive shelves, literally perked up upon hearing a familiar voice.
"Oli!?" Seeing her acquaintance, the Togruta literally brightened.
The punishment Master Windu had assigned her seemed extremely harsh to the girl. A whole month guarding the Archives! As if anything could happen here!? Boredom, pure and simple.
Especially considering that almost none of her acquaintances ever came here. She had no one to even exchange a word with.
She should be at the front right now! Fighting, smashing tin cans, not wasting her talents until the Masters deemed she had sufficiently atoned for disobeying her teacher's and Obi-Wan's orders.
And anyway! She was winning, by the way! She put an entire regiment of tin cans to flight — and with only a small mechanized unit. Well, yes, her teacher might be right — the cans were retreating because they were pressing on his and Kenobi's positions. But they ran, didn't they!
"Thank the Force you're here," Skywalker's apprentice rejoiced. "Being in the Archives is just boring!"
"If you haven't forgotten, I'm a former Padawan of Archivist Nu," the black-haired girl reminded her. "And there's a ton of useful stuff here, actually!"
Ahsoka bit her lip. Hutt, how had she missed that? Oli might get offended and leave — and then she'd have to while away the time again, walking around these endless shelves.
"I... didn't quite mean that," the little Togruta began to justify herself. "If only they let me read something here, but I'm just patrolling..."
"Oh, then yes," Starstone nodded in agreement. "Damn boring. Master said you were punished too harshly."
"I think so too," Tano sighed heavily. "Your teacher gave a whole speech in my defense. But it seems no one listened to his opinion."
"That happens," the girl shrugged. "I also think many Jedi should consult with him more often. But who cares about the opinion of two Padawans?"
"True enough," Tano agreed. "Wait, what are you doing in the Archives? I thought you knew everything in the world."
"Believe me — not even close," Oli laughed. "Master flew off to a meeting with Chancellor Palpatine, and he tasked me with sending requisitions for new equipment to the manufacturers."
"He's going to meet with the Chancellor himself?" the Togruta's eyes widened. "Wow. Are they friends?"
"Very unlikely," the interlocutor replied coldly. "Palpatine appointed him Grand Moff and placed under his responsibility the territories of Hutt Space, the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth sector armies. We are now the Tenth Systems Army 'Gent'."
The last phrase her friend spoke was with obvious pride. And that was understandable — the teacher trusted her that much. Look, he'd sent her to buy equipment. And they'd be returning to the front soon. While she'd still be here, guarding the shelves.
It was just unfair!
If only Anakin had stood up for her, supported her at the Council the way Dougan had! "Padawan Tano cannot possibly be blamed for getting caught up in battle! She's a student who acted in combat conditions. She made the decision to continue fighting, and she was winning, for the most part. And now we're ready to punish her for that? Then why aren't we punishing those who failed the operation on Jabiim? Or those who allowed the droid factories on Geonosis to be rebuilt? Who left our forces to die on Ryloth? These are double standards, gentlemen. Either punish everyone who has ever been at fault, or punish no one. I don't know what decision the Council will make, but I am unequivocally against punishing Ahsoka under these circumstances." The girl appreciated the Master's gesture. None of the other Masters, not even Obi-Wan, whom she had known for a long time, had stood up for her. Of course, that was hurtful — especially from her teacher Anakin and Master Plo.
Yes, Anakin had taken the blame upon himself, saying her mistake was a failing in his training. But in doing so, he only emphasized that she had indeed been wrong.
And that only made her sadder.
"Well, since you're busy," Ahsoka snapped out of her thoughts, realizing her friend had been saying something while she was recalling what had happened at the Council. "I'll go sit at one of the terminals. And don't worry," Oli smiled, "like any Jedi, I know how to use the Archive computers."
Watching the retreating figure of Master Dougan's student, Ahsoka mentally cursed herself for what had happened. Why in the Hutt's name had she drifted off into thought during a conversation? Now she'd have to wander the Archive in circles again, trying to find something to do. And there wasn't a soul here besides Oli!
As if to contradict her thoughts, another Jedi came into view, entering the Archive.
"Good afternoon, Master Enisens!" Ahsoka greeted the new arrival happily, smiling sincerely at the Jedi she had only seen a couple of times at most.
The Skrilling noticed her, somewhat surprised that someone had called out to him. "Well, yeah," Ahsoka thought sadly. "I'm not exactly a big gizka that everyone in the Temple would know."
"Good afternoon... girl," the Jedi greeted her.
"Case in point," the student proved the obvious truth to herself. "He doesn't even know who I am."
"Do you need any help?" Ahsoka asked with hidden hope. "Maybe at least something!? Please, say you need help!"
"No," the Skrilling tossed the refusal over his shoulder, pausing only for a moment in his movement toward the far row of computer terminals. "But thank you. No need to trouble yourself."
Ahsoka barely restrained herself from asking again, but remembered Oli's advice in time. Every Jedi knows how to use the terminals in the Archive. Who needed her help here? And really, who needed any guarding here at all, when the largest concentration of information in the galaxy was located in the depths of the Jedi Temple itself?
Sighing, Ahsoka prepared for another round when she heard her comlink beep.
"Yes?" she answered, hoping it might be her teacher.
"How long are you going to stand there like a statue?" Oli whispered (Jocasta Nu really scolded anyone who raised their voice in the Archives. A library, after all). "Or are you going to sneak off to me in the fifth hall and we'll work on the orders together?"
"On my way!" Tano exclaimed with enthusiasm, rushing toward the stairs at the other end of the Archives, trying in vain to remember where the fifth hall was located.
* * *
Padmé tried not to pay attention to the man walking beside her.
Pompous...
The Senator forced herself to hold back her sharp emotions. Inhale-exhale, inhale-exhale.
Breathing exercises, which Anakin had once taught her. They helped control her emotions.
Why did she need an escort if she was going to a neutral planet? The CIS wasn't reckless enough to attack Scipio, where their own deposits were also kept. So why did she need an escort there? A simple military transport to get her there would have been enough.
The Chancellor was deliberately exaggerating the danger, thinking about the risks such a trip might pose. Yes, she would have to fly through enemy-occupied territory, but the rule of diplomatic immunity existed! Even Count Dooku would think twice before attacking a senator's ship. He wasn't General Grievous...
"Senator Amidala," Dougan addressed her. "My ship will be ready for departure by tomorrow morning."
"Good for you," Padmé snapped, immediately trying to regain control. "Forgive me, but I don't need an escort. Especially since Scipio is a neutral party..."
"With all due respect, this mission was assigned to me by the Chancellor," the Jedi reminded her. "And regardless of your opinion, I have no intention of disobeying that order."
"As you wish," the Naboo woman snorted, continuing down the corridor.
What a stubborn type! Outrageous behavior for a Jedi — no wonder Anakin was so indignant about his conduct!
"Are you planning to escort me all the way until departure?" Realizing that Dougan was still walking with her, the former queen stopped, looking at the Jedi with the most contemptuous gaze she could muster.
"What?" The Jedi seemed to have just tuned into the conversation, lost in his own thoughts. "No, I have business with one of the senators. It's not my fault the builders of the Senate building placed the missions in the same circular corridor."
Shaking her head, the Naboo woman was inwardly amazed at such audacity. Criticizing the builders for his own benefit! She might have expected that from anyone, but not from a Jedi...
"And which senator do you have business with?" the girl asked with a hint of sarcasm.
"Riyo Chuchi," the Jedi replied shortly. The Naboo woman's eyebrows shot up, because she was heading to the same diplomatic mission. The Pantoran had asked her to stop by as soon as her meeting with the Chancellor ended. But she hadn't mentioned that this... Jedi would be there too.
Or was he going there on his own initiative?
Suddenly, a realization struck Padmé.
Anakin had told her that Dougan was quite young — he wasn't even thirty yet. Skywalker himself had just turned twenty, and sometimes the Naboo woman worried about their age difference — a full five years. From the height of her experience, she tried to curb the young Jedi's fiery temper, but Anakin... he was still too young to grasp the full extent of the trouble that could follow if anyone found out about their secret marriage. He would lose his place in the Order, and she could be recalled from the Senate. Or she might lose the votes of some supporters who wouldn't be too pleased with her "close ties" to the Order. It was hard to say which was worse for democracy.
But perhaps Padmé and Anakin weren't the only ones in the Senate and the Order who had broken the rules?
The theory had merit. Of course, she had never been close friends with Riyo, so they had never had heart-to-heart conversations — everything was strictly within the bounds of work. But on the other hand, the Pantoran, though a year older, was still pleasant-looking and very courteous. And the fact that Padmé had never heard her mention a significant other, nor seen her with anyone outside the Senate, could be circumstantial evidence that she did have a lover. And if so, it was no wonder Chuchi guarded her personal life so carefully.
Besides, since the war began, they had grown closer. More than once, Anakin had found her in the Senate in Chuchi's company, and the Pantoran could easily have made assumptions similar to the ones that had just crossed Padmé's mind. And she could have shared them with her lover, who, Padmé was almost certain, was this very Jedi. No wonder he had unhesitatingly given Anakin's cloak to her back on Rodia, saying she would surely know its owner.
Was that true? Or was it just her imagination?
She could probably verify it during the meeting. She couldn't see the Jedi's face, but the Pantoran, with her inability to control her emotions, was like an open book.
Meanwhile, their shared journey ended at the door behind which the Pantoran mission was located.
"Well, here we are," Padmé said meaningfully.
"You're quite the captain obvious, Senator," a chuckle came from beneath the mask. The Jedi pressed a key with a seemingly habitual gesture, unlocking the door.
"Senator Chuchi," he addressed the Pantoran, who, in Padmé's opinion, was suspiciously close to the entrance door. As if she were expecting someone.
"General..." A range of emotions crossed Riyo's face when she saw Amidala standing next to the armored figure. Well, that was clear enough. "Padmé! You came..."
"How could I abandon a friend in such a situation," the Naboo woman said with a smile, pleased that her train of thought had been correct. She unceremoniously walked inside, noticing the other faces present. "Chairman Papanoida, glad to see you! Riyo said you would be arriving soon..."
"Senator Amidala," the former baron was stocky, somewhat stout, dressed in the traditional attire of his clan. The joy radiating from him at the meeting was almost tangible. "These are my daughters, Chi Eekway and Chi Amante," he indicated the two young Pantoran women standing nearby. "My son, Aion," the blue-skinned youth shook the senator's extended hand. "We decided to arrive early to have time to prepare for the upcoming Senate session on our matter. And who is our guest?"
Padmé watched with interest as the Jedi approached and bowed courteously. At the same time, the Naboo woman standing next to him caught a quiet phrase dropped by Dougan: "Papa Smurf, is that you?" but realized no one else had heard it. "Probably some kind of greeting," the girl decided.
"Chairman Papanoida, this is General..." Riyo, who had wanted to introduce the guest, faltered. Padmé smiled inwardly, further convinced she was right.
"High Jedi General Rick Dougan," Amidala tried to hide her surprise. Dougan was a Master of the Order? How had that happened? Why hadn't Anakin told her about it? Not even during the conversation with the Chancellor had such information been mentioned. She would have to have a serious talk with her jealous husband.
"A pleasure to meet you," Papanoida beamed. "Your appearance seems familiar to me..."
"You may have seen a recording on the HoloNet of my battle with Count Dooku's dark acolyte, Sev'rance Tann," the Jedi replied. "As I recall, the recording was playing on your information channels."
"Ah, yes," the Chairman nodded. "I think I remember. What brings you to Senator Chuchi's office?"
The Jedi glanced briefly at the Pantoran, who stood silently to his left. One look at the embarrassed girl was enough for Padmé's last doubts to vanish.
"The Chancellor has appointed me Grand Moff of the Tenth Systems Army 'Gent'," she would have to have a VERY serious talk with Anakin. Despite the fact that they hadn't seen each other for a long time after that incident when she had ingratiated herself with her former lover, Rush Clovis, and learned about the construction of a new droid factory on Geonosis, the relationship between the secret husband and wife had cooled considerably. Through Anakin's own fault. Boundless jealousy and the burdensome secrecy did nothing to add stability to their marriage. Sometimes Padmé felt that the family cup had developed a crack that couldn't be mended. But every time, she remembered that this boy meant far more to her than she was willing to admit. Still, a falling out and arguments were no reason to hide such information from her. The appointment of a Jedi first as Moff, then as Grand Moff, could mean the Chancellor was trying to impose his will on the Order. Or, at the very least, secure their support, given the dissatisfaction of some senators with the transfer of enormous powers to Palpatine. "Pantora now falls within my area of responsibility. As it happens, I overheard part of the Senator's conversation with the Chancellor about your planet's problems and the established blockade. So I decided to inquire whether I might be of any assistance."
Padmé smiled discreetly. It was so romantic — a knight in shining armor coming to the aid of his beloved. Moments like these made life worth living. They were as touching as when Anakin, as a sign of his love and devotion, had given her his Padawan braid upon becoming a Jedi Knight. Or his gift — the protocol droid C-3PO, assembled with his own hands, which had served her faithfully for so long.
"That is commendable," the Chairman assessed. "The Trade Federation has imposed a blockade on our planet, which is simply unacceptable in wartime."
"I generally support you," the Jedi agreed. "But what is the reason for the blockade?"
"Federation representatives say it's about our debts for imports," the baron said contemptuously. "But there have always been delays in payment, and our suppliers were always fine with it. Now, however, as soon as a debt of two hundred billion accumulated, a battle station is hanging over our planet."
"How much did you say?" Padmé's breath caught. The Trade Federation had imposed a blockade on her homeworld ten years ago, in response to the young queen's attempts to draw the Republic's attention to the fact that the Neimoidians had taken advantage of the previous ruler's inexperience in galactic trade and, buying plasma from Naboo for a pittance in credits, resold it at exorbitant prices. The Republic's imposition of income taxes might have reined in the Neimoidians, but it only led to the occupation of the planet. And the amount of funds that were supposed to go into the Republic's budget from these taxes wasn't in the billions — it was three hundred million credits a year. "That's a gigantic sum! Over what period did such a debt accumulate?"
"Since the beginning of the war," Riyo spoke up. "Living conditions on our planet aren't the most pleasant — most of Pantora is swamps, and you can't grow crops there."
"So we have to import food," the baron finished the thought. "To feed a billion inhabitants..."
"You just need to stop squandering the budget," the Jedi said unexpectedly. "Chairman, two hundred billion isn't just a lot of money. It's a fucking huge amount. I don't remember exactly, but the minimum subsistence level established by the Republic is..."
"A hundred credits a year," Padmé recalled. "You can live perfectly well on that amount without working. Is unemployment really that high on your planet?"
"No, not at all!" Papanoida protested. "Yes, about a third of the population is unemployed, but you're mistaken. There is no corruption on Pantora."
"Oh, sure, once is never," Dougan snorted. "So, I take it the Senate is aware of the situation in general?"
"Yes, General," Riyo echoed.
"In that case, you don't even have a chance to present this behavior of the Trade Federation as a military occupation rather than internal affairs," the Grand Moff stated decisively. "What do you think, Senator Amidala?"
"I'm sorry, Riyo," Padmé shook her head. "But I agree with the General here. Two hundred billion in debt — the Trade Federation is within its rights. I'm afraid their next step will be an initiative to introduce external administration to pay off the debts."
"That's all nonsense!" Papanoida declared. "This is Separatist scheming. Count Dooku offered us entry into the Confederacy in exchange for lifting the siege. Many members of the Assembly support this decision. The Republic is our last chance..."
Silence fell over the mission room. Padmé, glancing discreetly at Chuchi, could only sympathize with the girl. External administration, or an alliance with the Separatists — both options were dire. It seemed the prince in shining armor couldn't help her.
"Dooku is very precise in his choice of words," the Jedi broke the silence. "He only mentioned lifting the blockade. But not closing the debt..."
"But the General is right," the baron's son interjected. "We all know the treachery of the Separatist leader."
"But what are we supposed to do in this situation?!" Papanoida exclaimed. "We're cut off from all trade routes. Our people are starving!"
"I think there is a solution," the Jedi glanced at Chuchi's desk, and walking over to it, in complete silence, he brought up a three-dimensional map of the galaxy. Then he zoomed in to the size of the Sujimis sector.
"Pantora is far from all major hyperspace routes," he reminded those present. "But at the same time, the planet is located almost on the border of the explored space of the Outer Rim. And it's far from the front in your oversector."
"Actually, the front currently runs approximately along the Rugosa-Wohai-Suarbi line," the baron's son recalled. "So we're almost on the front line."
"Well, not exactly in the trenches," the Jedi countered.
"And yet, droids recently tried to establish their own outpost on our moon," Papanoida reminded him.
"As did the Republic," Chuchi interjected. "But after a clash with the local inhabitants, the Grand Army abandoned its base."
"That's true," Dougan agreed. "But what's stopping us from establishing a new one?"
"The inhabitants of Orto Plutonia," Papanoida smirked. "They are warlike and unfriendly to outsiders."
"And the inhabitants of Pantora?" the Jedi smirked back.
"Excuse me?"
"As Grand Moff, I have the right to independently decide where the rear bases of my system army will be located," Dougan explained. "And something tells me the Trade Federation would be violating several Republic laws if they obstructed the movement of Republic military vessels — as well as the establishment of a base on the planet."
"But..." Papanoida paused for a moment, as if digesting the information. "Suppose I agree to this. But the Assembly may not agree with such a decision."
"I'll send a group of Jedi to the planet to investigate the facts of corruption," Dougan continued. And noticing that the Chairman intended to object, he added unceremoniously, "Don't deny it, it exists. It has to. Or do you seriously think two hundred billion can just disappear?"
"The planet's inhabitants deny themselves very little," Papanoida said.
"And they shouldn't," the Jedi said with a hint of reproach.
"Still," Amidala noted, "that doesn't solve the issue of food supplies. Or the debt itself."
"There are quite a few agricultural worlds in my area of responsibility," Dougan recalled. "The inhabitants of the planet Ukio are grateful to me for liberating them from CIS occupation. I think we can negotiate with them for food supplies to your planet, although you'll still have to pay for it."
"We simply have nothing to pay with," Chuchi admitted. "Pantora is nearly bankrupt."
"If you're feeding an army of unemployed — yes," Dougan countered. "But I suspect that among three hundred million sentients, there are those willing to work. You just need to have a little explanatory conversation."
"What are you talking about?" Papanoida frowned. "Pantora, like other Republic worlds, does not force its citizens to work..."
"I'm saying that the 'Gent' system army has a huge number of vacancies," the implication sent a chill down Padmé's spine. How could anyone be forced to work? Wasn't it the government's duty to care for the welfare of its inhabitants? "I suspect that if even half of that number volunteered for service, taking the army's rations and support, it would significantly reduce the burden on the planet's budget. Not to mention the huge number of specialist vacancies in the army — technicians, support personnel. Not to mention service in active units."
"General, you forget yourself," Papanoida raised his voice slightly. "It is the Republic's duty to protect the planets within it. The clones are supposed to keep us safe from the CIS army!"
"Remind Count Dooku of that when your people are dying of hunger, and the survivors are herded into concentration camps or used as living shields for artillery pieces, as was the case on Ryloth," Dougan said coldly.
"General Dougan," Chuchi said quietly. "I've heard you have many friends among the inhabitants of Christophsis. Couldn't they help us pay off the debt to the Trade Federation?"
"I think that's something to discuss with their representative," Dougan shrugged. "But as I see it, you'd be swapping one creditor for another. And since we're on the subject — Christophsis doesn't consider it shameful to send volunteers to my army to participate in the war."
"They have a population of thirty-five billion!" Papanoida waved dismissively. "Even if they lose half in the war, they can still preserve their race, but we..."
"This is, of course, just my opinion, Chairman," the Jedi remarked. "But when it comes directly to the security of one's homeland, every son or daughter should take up arms and fight for their future. And if you're counting on the clones, remember how many of them there are in the Grand Army. And how many bins the Separatists have."
The baron turned decisively away from the table, where the hologram of the sector still rotated. Taking a few steps to the side, he turned back just as sharply, fixing his gaze on the Jedi.
"Very well," despite his furrowed brows, his face didn't seem belligerent. "I will agree to the establishment of a military base for your army on Pantoran territory. However, only the Assembly can ratify such a treaty. As well as decide on the matter of allowing Jedi to investigate questions of alleged corruption."
"As you say, Chairman," the Jedi agreed with suspicious ease. Padmé, a veteran of years of intrigue, sensed something was off.
"At the moment, Senator Amidala and I have an extremely important mission to carry out," the Naboo woman's attention was caught by a blinking light on the Jedi's wrist comlink. "But as soon as we finish, we will head straight for Pantora. Until then, Chairman, if you'll pardon my audacity, I would ask you to pay close attention to the security of your children. Since you have come here to oppose the Trade Federation, I personally would not be surprised if the Neimoidians try to exert pressure on you by kidnapping one of them."
"Forgive me, but that's nonsense," Papanoida said decisively. "They're just merchants..."
"And there's a bulk freighter hanging over your planet, not a warship," Dougan quipped.
"Chairman," Padmé drew attention to herself with a cough. "From my own experience, I can tell you that these sentients will stop at nothing to achieve their goals."
Snorting contemptuously, Papanoida glanced at his children, as if seeking their support. But a moment later, he said wearily:
"You win. Send your guards."
"My Padawan is on the line," Dougan touched the comlink key. "Oli... What?! What the hell were you doing there?! Is anyone hurt?! Pray to your gods that I don't kill you when I get back."
Turning off the communicator, the Jedi looked at those present. However, following the direction of his gaze, Padmé noticed that his face mask was fixed on Senator Chuchi.
"I apologize, Mr. Chairman," the Jedi finally said. "Some difficulties have arisen. I will send you other guards. For now, I urgently need to return to the Temple. Chairman, Senators, Chairman's children," pressing his index and middle fingers to the right side of his forehead above the eye slits, the Jedi swiftly left the diplomatic mission room.
"And what was that about?" Papanoida asked, breaking the silence that had formed after the General's departure.
"Grand Moff," Aion replied with a smirk, watching the smiles on his sisters' faces.
"A Jedi," Padmé shrugged. A very peculiar one, but no less interesting for that. Strong-willed, commanding... even despotic, in her opinion. It was hard to imagine the Order could have raised such a harsh Force adept, one who could speak so unceremoniously not only to a senator but also to the government of a planet allied with the Republic. However, comparing Dougan to her husband, Amidala couldn't help but admit that the former had a number of undeniable advantages. In particular — the ability to show firmness, regardless of the protests of the weaker half. Padmé had used her "senatorial tone" more than once to curb Anakin's emotional outbursts. Even in situations where she wasn't entirely right, the girl managed to turn things to her advantage. And, as embarrassing as it was to admit, she did it hoping to change her beloved, as her mother used to say — "to put him under her thumb." The girl always justified herself by saying that compared to her young husband, her life experience was far greater, and it was she who had the right to set the tone in their marriage. Perhaps one day Anakin would become the strong, willful man she needed. He would reach such heights as Dougan, possess the charisma that Clovis had...
But when would that be? How many more scandals would there be? How many more suspicions of infidelity would she have to endure? How many more accusations would she have to listen to?
Comparing her beloved to the other men who inevitably surrounded her, Padmé sometimes wondered if she had been too hasty in choosing her partner. The passion and infatuation that had overwhelmed her on the brink of death had faded after a year of marriage. In their place came routine and habit.
Padmé was horrified at the thought that perhaps she had never really loved Anakin at all. And her kiss on the Petranaki arena hadn't happened because she truly felt love for that extraordinary, passionate young man, but because she wanted to give him and herself a few last pleasant moments of life before the enraged Geonosians executed them...
Stunned by her own thoughts, Padmé shook her head, trying to banish them from her mind.
"I have a long journey ahead," she found an excuse to leave the Naboo gathering. "There's still much to do. I think I'll go."
"I envy you, Padmé," Riyo whispered to her at the door. "You have a joint mission ahead. General Dougan... he's an unusual Jedi."
"Believe me," the former Queen of Naboo sighed, "I would give a lot to not be stuck with him during the upcoming mission."
* * *
Few people paid any attention to an ordinary Krevaaki on the lower levels of Coruscant. They gave him a wide berth, not interfering with the slow-moving being as he followed his own path. Even the gangs of bandits that usually operated in these districts tried to steer clear of him. And even if some of them dared to block his way, Bodo always found the right words to calm the hotheads.
He had lived a long life. Too long to close his eyes to the changes that had been plaguing the Order from generation to generation.
Ever since he had received the holocron from his ancestor, not a day had passed without him adding something new to it. At first, horrified by the chaos that had come to him in that little box he always carried with him, Baas had spent no less than a few hundred years just systematizing the scattered information. Then, for the last seven hundred years, the Jedi had been filling the device with new information.
Everything was in there. His personal thoughts of disagreement with the Order's policies under Yoda and Windu. His opinion on the training program for young Jedi. His own reflections on the Jedi path...
All his victories on the diplomatic rings.
And all his failures.
His diplomatic talent had failed for the first time a little over five hundred years ago.
When the Order learned of the existence of Force users who called themselves Zeison Sha, the Jedi sent their representatives to them, among whom was Bodo. The mission's goal, as always in such cases, was simple — to convince the adepts to join if their views aligned with the Jedi's. Or else, to eliminate the threat. Nothing in this galaxy should allow the Dark Side to triumph. Unfortunately, in light of recent events, Baas was forced to concede that the Order had lost the battle against the legacy of the Dark Side.
Just as it had failed in the negotiations with the Zeison Sha.
The inhabitants of the planet Yanibar, despite the fact that their views in some ways matched the Jedi worldview, refused to join the Order. Too much in the Order's teachings was alien to the Zeison Sha. The isolation of students from their families, which the Jedi adhered to, proved to be the last straw for the tolerance of Yanibar's inhabitants. They agreed to join the Order, but only on the condition that the renunciation of family, the isolation of students from their parents, and several other fundamental dogmas of the Order would be abolished. And despite the truly incredible potential of these adepts in telekinesis and in handling their unique weapon — the combat disc — the High Council refused to make concessions, declaring that the Code was the same for everyone.
As if the Corellian Jedi, whose life principles ran counter to the Order's policies, didn't even exist.
Bodo felt his second disappointment in his diplomatic abilities during a meeting with the leader of the Matukai. Natives of the planet Karvoss II, having learned of the Jedi mission, listened to them cordially. But as soon as the conversation turned to merging the two organizations, the leader of the Matukai, Mendor Typhoons, declared that the Jedi training style was significantly inferior to their own. At first, this was taken as a joke, but the longer the negotiations went on, the more the Jedi realized no one was joking. The Matukai, unlike the Jedi, did not comprehend the Force through lengthy training. No, each of them, despite even the lowest sensitivity to the Force, through long, well-planned physical training, turned into a terrible weapon of immense power. The Matukai built their philosophy around a concept they called the "center of focus," which was their own body.
They always maintained balance and harmony between the Force and the physical aspects of their own bodies. The flexibility of spirit that emerged from long training allowed them to channel the Force so effectively that, according to the Matukai leader, it completely guaranteed immunity from any form of suffering. And, oddly enough, it saved them from the manifestations of the Dark Side. A huge achievement that the Jedi Order as a whole could not claim.
Centuries had passed since then. The Tetrin Holocron, as his ancestor's relic was called, had been supplemented with hundreds of thousands of teachings. And even a short note about the Dark Guard — a faction of Sith that had broken away from the Brotherhood of Darkness a thousand years ago — had found its place in the depths of the endless data repository.
Memories of the merciless extermination of the Dark Guard, a sect that had never interfered in politics or the lives of ordinary people, instead comprehending the power of the Force — albeit in the aspect of the Dark Side — troubled Bodo's aging soul. A page of the Order's history that had been forever erased even from the Archives — along with the hundreds of souls of dark adepts tracked down and destroyed about a hundred years ago. But, unlike Yoda, Bodo never buried his head in the sand — hence his eternal protests against the Council's policies. Considering the concealment of the Order's sad historical pages a disgrace that only clouded the minds of younglings and corrupted the thoughts of young Jedi, Bodo meticulously compiled his own version of the Order's history, carefully hiding his work from the other Jedi. Only his close friend, Ashka Boda, knew about it. And, as befits a loyal comrade, he kept that secret.
But now, Baas had been brought to this Force-forsaken place not by a memory of the past. Or rather, not only by that.
He was quite skilled in foresight, so despite the veil of the Dark Side, he could discern some glimpses of the future through the Force. But the images were so blurry that he had to resign himself to his failures. Until today.
Despite the commotion in the Temple, he had not canceled the meeting.
He hadn't told anyone about it. Even Ashka was in the dark.
Bodo Baas was walking toward his destiny. Toward the knowledge that the stranger on the comlink had promised him. Knowledge about the distant past, about the Eternal Empire built many millennia ago by a Force-sensitive man named Valkorion. In the Archives, he had been unable to find anything about this man's identity, but the stranger assured him that Valkorion and the ancient Sith Emperor Vitiate were one and the same. And she spoke of evidence.
Such information could become a huge layer in his holocron. So the Jedi followed all the rules his interlocutor had set.
Finally, standing in front of the entrance to the specified warehouse, Bodo entered the code he had been given on the panel and went inside.
His eyes peered into the semi-darkness of the room, which smelled of mold and rot and was covered in a layer of dust. Reaching out with the Force, he was relieved to detect a single living being besides himself nearby. And he slowly made his way toward it.
"I am the Jedi Bodo Baas," he introduced himself, catching sight of a figure in a long cloak. "Are you the one who wanted to tell me about the Eternal Empire?"
"Yes," a quiet female voice reached him. "You came alone, as I asked?"
"Of course," the Jedi echoed. "I never break my word."
"That's good," he thought his interlocutor's tone had changed.
"So, what did you want to tell me?" he asked, approaching the stranger a good ten meters. Now he stood a couple of meters from her and saw that the girl hiding herself under the folds of the cloak was a Lethan Twi'lek. A rare visitor to Coruscant. He had seen the only representative of this Twi'lek subspecies in the company of the senator from Ryloth. And never again.
"The thing is—" Bodo was slightly taken aback when he saw an armored hand emerge from the cloak, gripping a lightsaber. An instant later, the cloak fell to the floor, and the weapon blazed to life with a crimson glow. "The Eternal Empire has returned."
Bodo thanked the Force for prompting him to bring his weapon this time. The green blade parried a strong overhead strike from the Lethan, after which Bodo was forced into full defense. Thrusts rained down on him like hail, and all he could do was backpedal toward the exit, hoping to blast the door open with the Force and escape before his opponent could overcome him.
Like most diplomats, Baas used the Niman style in combat — sufficient to hold his own against ordinary opponents. But clearly insufficient to win a battle against a well-trained Force-user.
The Lethan struck from above and below, from different angles, having clearly sensed the full extent of Bodo's defensive shortcomings. The Krevaaki defended desperately, trying to launch counterattacks, but this only resulted in a deep scar on his chitinous faceplate.
There was no point in trying to dialogue with this assassin. He had to flee, preserving the most valuable thing he had...
Taking advantage of the Twi'lek being distracted — she had fried the control panel with a Force Lightning — Bodo delivered a sweeping blow that, had it hit its target, would have decapitated the enemy.
Instead, the killer parried the thrust with her blade, holding it near her face, and forcefully shoved the Jedi back. Toward the doors that had become a trap. Bodo felt the Dark Side had shorted the circuits, and now, instead of a simple panel, a armored plate that had been hidden in the warehouse wall until the right moment separated him from freedom. A carefully prepared ambush.
The Twi'lek jumped, simultaneously delivering a sliding strike to his right arm, which Bodo instinctively blocked.
And the very next moment, he took a powerful blow to the face that sent him crashing into the metal wall of the warehouse. The next second, a crimson blade pinned his right side, piercing his entire being with unbearable pain.
Bodo's lightsaber ended up in the killer's hands, who, without a second thought, rendered it useless by cutting it in half with her own weapon. Only then did she lean over her fallen enemy.
"For a diplomat, you held out quite a while, Master Baas," she said with a hint of admiration, tearing the sturdy belt from the Krevaaki where the holocron was stored. After a quick check, she extracted the device and instantly hid it in her own clothing. "Believe me, that's a compliment."
"Who do you serve, Sith?" The Jedi's inquisitive mind did not abandon him even at the very last moment. Bodo held no illusions about his own fate.
"My master," the Twi'lek replied curtly. Stepping back a few paces, she used the Force to grab a pair of containers, the kind usually used for storing chemical reagents, and hurled them at the Jedi.
Feeling physical pain, Bodo in the next second felt himself losing control of his own body. A heavy gas, impossible to get rid of or to breathe fresh air, filled his lungs, and the Jedi's consciousness went dark.