The interior of the Imperial Spire was stunning in its splendor.
Moira Stratus was used to considering herself a person who was hard to surprise. Even on Jabiim, amidst the mud that passed for soil there and the endless rains, her people managed to create works of art. Of course, even the government's residence did not boast particular luxury, but Moira had seen plenty of similar things elsewhere.
Having spent her childhood on Alderaan learning the intricacies of diplomacy, Moira had spent all her student years marveling at the beauty of the local palaces. And at all the architecture created by her people in general. Of course, most of these masterpieces had been erected in bygone times, when Alderaanians weren't so scrupulous about violence. But the creative potential of her people never left a moment's doubt that a more beautiful world couldn't be found in the galaxy.
However, Zakuul had managed to debunk that myth.
The Jabiimi woman watched the planet through the shuttle's viewport with a pensive gaze — a world shrouded in snow-white clouds, through which the sharp spires of incredibly tall buildings broke through. Something like this would have been impossible to imagine on her homeworld, or even on Coruscant.
"Captain Hermit," she called quietly to the head of her security. And, by extension — the acting commander of the Nimbus squadron. A tall, powerfully built man with a small scar on his neck — a parting gift from the Jedi during their last invasion of the planet — rose from his seat and approached her silently. "What do you think, looking at this planet?"
The officer, not known for being talkative, looked out the viewport with a heavy gaze. After a couple of seconds of silence, he shrugged.
"Nice world," the man explained his gesture. "It doesn't even look as foul here as on Coruscant."
"First impressions can be deceiving, you know," Moira said quietly.
Though she had accepted the invitation — to meet her benefactor in person — she had had to agree to numerous precautionary measures. A rendezvous in an uninhabited system with a starship whose mere appearance — a strict hull with a split bow section — was enough to tell that this ship was clearly not built in the Republic. It alone carried several times more turbolaser batteries than any Republic Star Destroyer. That directly indicated that this vessel was created by obvious professionals in military affairs, not yesterday's ship designers for the Judicial Forces.
Draigon Allous, the commander of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul's dreadnought, proudly named the Indomitable, met the Jabiimis in the hangar of his starship. After briefly greeting the delegation, he pointedly politely asked everyone to follow his soldiers to the cabins, where they remained for the rest of the flight.
Moira noted everything she saw. By her calculations, the ship had flown for a long time — long enough to leave the known space of the galaxy. There were quite a lot of soldiers on board — they strutted in armor painted in black and silver, never taking off their helmets for a minute. The crew tried to keep their distance from the visitors, so none of the Jabiimis had even managed to exchange a glance with them.
But the Imperials' combat droids were impressive. Snow-white, heavily armed and made entirely of armor, they undoubtedly surpassed in combat performance those pathetic creations of the Trade Federation that the CIS supplied to Jabiim for the fight against the Jedi.
And only now were they all allowed to go outside, and on an Empire shuttle head to the long-awaited meeting.
The goal of her journey was a spherical structure crowning one of the tallest skyscrapers on Zakuul. Made entirely of transparisteel, it appeared as a second sun in the system in the rays of the dawn star.
"Pretentious," Moira thought. "But extremely inefficient. Such a structure would be attacked almost immediately during an invasion." Yet, the closer her ship flew to the sphere, the more she doubted the correctness of her initial judgment.
Through the fluffy blanket of clouds, the gray hulls of numerous Star Destroyers kept slipping into view, identical as two drops of water to the one that had brought her to this system. It seemed the ruler of this world knew how to surprise anyone who suddenly decided to destroy his residence.
Thrusters firing, the shuttle glided into the open maw of a spacious hangar. The Zakuulan pilot masterfully stopped the machine just as the landing struts touched the matte black floor. Through the viewport, Moira noticed dozens of beings in black-and-silver armor guarding the hangar's perimeter and its single exit. There was no shortage of guards here.
Descending the ramp together with Hermit, the girl was slightly surprised to find the delegation greeting her.
Ten people, strikingly different from those she had seen upon landing. Their robes somewhat resembled Jedi robes, yet at the same time, the style had a certain imposing quality. Fitted, with elements of brightly polished armor covering their legs, chest, back, and arms, it was strikingly executed in a gray-silver color. And with a sealed helmet, completely hiding the face of the interlocutor behind a snow-white visor.
Moira instantly assessed that each of these faceless warriors wore a lightsaber hilt on their belt. "Jedi!" was her first thought. "A trap!" dawned on her next. From the tense face of the Nimbus commander accompanying her, she guessed he had the same thoughts.
"Lady Stratus," one of the welcoming group separated from the rest, identical as two drops of water to the others. "My name is Seybern, of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul's Guard. I am tasked with escorting you to the Emperor."
"I want nothing to do with Jedi," Moira snapped angrily.
"Neither does the Emperor," the guardsman replied. Placing his hands on his weapon, he turned his head slightly so his helmet faced both Jabiimis. "Jedi aren't the only ones who use lightsabers."
"Lady, I don't like this," Hermit whispered quietly in her ear. "I recommend…"
"Since we've arrived here," Moira squinted, "it's worth hearing what this ruler has to offer."
"Follow me," without waiting for her reply, Seybern turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the exit. Moira froze for a moment, deciding whether to continue her visit or turn back. But, recalling the harm the Jedi had brought to the planet and how quickly the Zakuulan representatives had come to their aid, restarting the destroyed mines in record time, she finally took a step toward the guards.
Taking positions on both sides of the delegates, the faceless wielders of lightsabers accompanied them on a short walk from the hangar to a huge, richly inlaid armored door, which, by her estimate, led inside the spherical structure.
Without a word, Seybern touched the panel, and as soon as the massive bulkhead slid apart, he silently proceeded inside. Following him, still sticking to her plan — at least to find out what the unknown Emperor could offer her — went Moira, with her guard looming behind.
The throne room greeted them with an atmosphere that emphasized their own insignificance. Moira felt that in such a huge space, she was like a little girl, getting nervous, feeling more uneasy with every step along the wide platform leading to the central part of the structure.
Supporting her initial impression of luxury and a stunning interior style, in the center of the room stood a massive platform crowned with an imposing throne, whose back, made in the form of two planes tapering at the ends, rose a good ten meters above the platform itself.
And in the center of all this intimidating splendor, examining a huge hologram of a planet, in which Moira with surprise recognized her own homeland, sat a man. His face, like most of his body, was hidden under a long cloak decorated with silver patterns and trim.
Moira, noticing how Seybern reached the end of the platform and, kneeling on one knee before this figure, spoke quietly, looked around. Now they were only accompanied by three guards — the rest, like statues, were positioned on both sides of the platform, at equal distance from their neighbor. Another pair stood at attention, backs against the wall near the entrance to the throne room.
Finally, when just over a dozen meters remained to the platform where the unknown figure sat, two more guards left them, standing at the edge of the platform. And as soon as she reached the central platform, Seybern and the last guard took their places on either side of the throne. Silent, but, she could swear by Jabiim's rains, lethally dangerous.
Moira thought they would take her and her companion's weapons at the entrance, or at least ask them to surrender them. But Seybern and his subordinates just stood at attention and waited. Apparently, the only thing they were allowed in the Throne Room without their master's will was to breathe. They weren't the least bit worried that an armed person could easily get an audience. They didn't care that the Immortal Emperor, as Commander Draigon called him, might become the victim of an assassination attempt.
Moira felt perspiration appear on her forehead.
What she was witnessing was only proof of the Emperor's immeasurable power. She understood perfectly well that if she tried to detonate the tiny baradium grenade hidden in the heel of her boot and reliably shielded from all types of scanning, it would cause irreparable harm to the Zakuul Empire — no one could survive such an explosion. And the guards couldn't fail to understand the consequences of their actions.
No. They understood it all perfectly well. They knew they wouldn't have time to prevent a terrorist attack if she suddenly decided to carry it out. They were simply confident that the Emperor's life was in no danger.
There was something in this place that made one feel uneasy. How could an ordinary being not fear death? What kind of power did he possess to so simply meet face-to-face with those who could bring death?
Or was it all her speculation? And in reality, everything happening was the result of the Emperor's guard's incompetence?
Moira felt that at that very moment, waves of energy began to emanate from the figure sitting on the throne: they were so powerful that the very air seemed to ripple. She had felt something similar when she fought against the Jedi on Jabiim. But there it was hundreds of times weaker. The woman gasped at the thought that seemed to hang in the air — the Emperor was Force-sensitive. And he surpassed anyone she had ever dealt with in that regard. If that was the case, then this being was capable of opposing the Jedi and the Republic. Such beings should be watched very closely.
The Emperor rose, and with a deafening clang, the doors behind her closed. The hologram of Jabiim dissolved into the air. Moira felt a lump rise in her throat. She forcefully swallowed it, trying to maintain a calm expression on her face.
"Lady Stratus," the Emperor spoke. "I am glad to see you on Zakuul."
Moira rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms together, turning her gaze to the figure towering before her. The Emperor threw back his hood and revealed his face. However, instead of familiar features, a cold metal mask stared back at her, with eye slits covered by black light filters.
One look at the Emperor was enough to make Moira shiver. She tried to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat. Her mouth suddenly went dry, and Stratus was seized by a fit of suffocation. She swallowed again with an effort and coughed. This caused a slight chuckle from the man standing before her (was it even a man?), which she tried to ignore. Finally, having gathered enough saliva to begin her speech, the woman, making a sign behind her back for Hermit not to worry, replied to the greeting.
"Pleased to meet my benefactor face to face," she said.
"You asked for a meeting with me. I am always ready for dialogue with my subjects," the Emperor assured.
There was something strange about his voice. It sounded as if not one, but several beings were speaking through the ruler of Zakuul's mouth. It was extraordinarily resonant and rolling, as if several creatures were pronouncing his words in a harmonious chorus.
Moira dismissed such thoughts — she needed to focus. One wrong word, and she might not leave this room. At least, not alive.
"I haven't made a final decision about joining the Eternal Empire yet," explained Alto's sister, "and I came to hear your proposal in person."
She paused, expecting the Emperor to say something in response. After a few seconds, she realized no reply would follow.
"My people and I are grateful for the help you provided to the planet. The mines have been restored, and Jabiim is once again ready to reclaim its place in this galaxy."
"You should appeal to the Republic if you seek greatness among ruins," the Emperor said. His tone hadn't changed, but the threat between the lines was quite tangible: "Such a trifle does not deserve my attention."
Moira felt a wave of nausea. It seemed her head was spinning.
"I'm not interested in a place in a rotten state. I want to know what the Empire can offer our world. And what price comes with it."
She folded her arms across her chest, demonstrating her principles. And she truly was concerned about this issue. The planet had experienced devastation, finding itself at the point of conflict between two superpowers' interests. And the last thing Jabiim needed now was for the expeditionary forces of the Republic or the Confederacy to land on its surface again. And if this answer didn't satisfy her, the planet, though grateful for Zakuul's help, would prefer to be left alone with its problems.
"Like any other world, system, or sector that sees the light and joins the Eternal Empire," the Emperor continued, his tone unchanged, "you will pay unified taxes, and the same laws will apply to you as in other regions. Your people will be called to the service of the Empire and become part of our military machine."
"So far, I haven't heard anything that could benefit my planet," Moira admitted. She caught her breath as the faceless mask fixed its impenetrable eye sockets on her.
"Is order and prosperity no longer honored in your part of the galaxy?" the Emperor inquired quietly. "Protection from any enemies and investments in your economy — in my opinion, sufficient motivation to remove the blinders and emerge from stagnation. And, unlike the Republic, the Empire does not abandon its citizens to the whims of fate in hard times."
"Our world is rich in mineral resources," Moira reminded. "By trading them, we can build our own fleet and raise an army. We already have experience resisting invaders."
"How soon will an armada of any of the powers appear in your orbit after you demonstrate to the galaxy that you are ready to trade your wealth? A day? A month? And how many ships will you manage to acquire in that time?"
A blow, as they say, straight to the heart. Moira was perfectly aware that the Emperor was telling the truth, since she herself had been thinking along the same lines. However, she still hadn't heard clear guarantees. She told the Emperor as much.
"Here are those guarantees," the Emperor said, pointing to the massive hull of the Star Destroyer on which she had arrived. "And hundreds more like it. Every one of our starships is many times stronger than any Republic or Confederacy vessel. As is our army. You already know this, Lady Stratus."
Moira nodded unconsciously in agreement. The commander of the destroyer that had brought her here had turned out to be a decent fellow who told her about the advantages of Zakuul's military machine. But, like any ruler caring for her people, she couldn't help but try to negotiate better terms.
"Still, it seems to me that Jabiim, with its resources, deserves a much more privileged position within the Empire," the woman shook her head. Her phrase drew a low laugh from the Emperor. More like the screech of metal.
"The Empire does not bargain, Moira," his laughter stopped as soon as he took a step forward and in an instant was standing before the girl. The Emperor was a head taller than her, so to look into his mask, she had to tilt her head back — the ruler of Zakuul, disregarding the ethical norms of personal space, stood within a dozen inches of her. "You have been shown the honor — an offer to join. Accept — and you will be rewarded according to conscience. Refuse — and we will take Jabiim by right of the strong. After the Republic or the Confederacy have swept through there with fire and sword. In any case, what interests the Empire will belong to it."
"When can we expect the arrival of your troops?"
"Advance units will be dispatched immediately after you swear allegiance. More precisely, since you decided to bargain with me and brought explosives into my throne room," a palpable chill emanated from him, "convince me to accept your world into the Empire, rather than raze everything there to the ground."
Moira felt sweat begin to pour down her back. She hadn't heard such an aggressive, pragmatic approach even from Count Dooku. She heard Hermit breathing heavily, sensing danger. How did he know? Hutt-spawned Jedi tricks!
"Jedi serve you," she remarked, nodding towards the guards. It wasn't for nothing that she was the sharpest one in their family. Imminent danger gave her confidence and made her think faster.
"They were Jedi once," the Emperor said, slowly returning to his seat. "Now they serve me and the Empire."
The Emperor showed no concern about the exposure of the imminent danger. He was silent and unperturbed, like death itself. But the air temperature around the Jabiimi woman seemed to begin to drop.
"In that case, there is a gift for you on our shuttle. For you and the Empire."
Moira felt a chill run through her body. She understood that not just her own life and Hermit's were in danger. This being, whatever it was, possessed enough power to turn her homeland into a burned-out planetoid. And all because she hadn't heeded common sense and had, out of habit, decided to cover her bases.
A long silence fell, and the woman had a persistent impression that the Emperor was invisibly communicating with someone outside the throne room.
A few seconds later, the doors swung open, and a pair of guardsmen appeared, dressed exactly like those inside. They both marched steadily, while behind them, on an antigravity platform, moved a huge rectangular metal crate.
"An interesting design," the Emperor commented. "Mandalorian work. And their beskar."
"You are correct," the woman agreed. "The chamber was created by the Mandalorians for capturing Jedi. And it is currently being used for its intended purpose."
At her signal, Hermit, who was familiar with the capsule's device, approached it and quickly unlatched the front cover.
Externally, the structure looked like a rectangular coffin with a single viewing window. The symbols on the outside told of the glorious deeds of the Mandalorians in their resistance against the Jedi. Nothing supernatural, it seemed.
But the moment the front wall was removed...
Firmly fastened with beskar manacles, through which a sensitive electrical charge was passed, a prisoner was inside the chamber. His arms, legs, torso, and even head were secured in several places with additional energy bands, restricting any movement. Simple and effective — the restraints held the prisoner in one position, while the electric shocks hindered concentration.
"Curious," the Emperor pronounced.
"One of the Jedi who participated in the attack on Jabiim," Moira commented. "Extremely aggressive. A fierce fighter, at whose hands many of my soldiers died."
"And how did you capture her?"
"We found her unconscious after the battle," Moira admitted. "Life was barely flickering in her, but our medics got her back on her feet."
"You were going to hand her over to Count Dooku."
The Emperor wasn't asking. The Emperor was stating.
The same guardsmen who had escorted the chamber here, without the slightest audible command, moved the structure to the base of the platform to the left of the throne. So that nothing now blocked both Jabiimis from standing directly before the Emperor.
"It is very bold of you to offer me what was promised to another," he said. "But since your judgment is truthful, I will reward you... this time. Jabiim will be accepted into the Empire on the terms I stated. Without consequences for your low act."
"I thank you, my Emperor," Moira said, bowing.
"If you ever try to do anything against me, the Empire, or my servants again," the ruler added, "you will meet a fate far worse than you can imagine."
The black lakes of his light filters swirled with wisps of red mist, and for a brief moment, the Emperor revealed his true nature to Moira.
The touch lasted less than a second, but Alto Stratus's sister managed to witness with her own eyes an inexpressible horror that surpassed everything even the most skilled torturer on Jabiim could devise in the most terrible nightmare.
Moira screamed in agony as the Emperor touched her mind, and collapsed to the floor, trembling like a child from fear. Hermit reacted instantly, appearing beside her. Catching the woman under one arm, with the other he drew a blaster from a concealed holster, but before he could aim it at the source of her torment, a lightning stroke of a snow-white energy blade cut the weapon in half.
The Nimbus captain tossed aside the useless weapon and tried to draw a second one. However, he stopped when he felt an energy blade at his throat.
"What a comedy," the Emperor said, not taking his gaze off her.
The terrible vision ended quickly, and other images almost immediately displaced it into her subconscious. Moira barely found the strength to get up from the floor. Hermit, still controlled by the guardsman holding one white blade at the officer's throat and the other across his back, stood motionless, arms spread. Moira felt her mouth go dry. Her loyal comrade was in mortal danger — the woman had no doubt that his fate was already sealed.
A sense of camaraderie urged her to demand his release immediately. However, the instinct for self-preservation, as well as the unspoken message in the captain's eyes, told her the exact opposite.
"Follow me," said Seybern, as soon as Moira was on her feet. How he had managed to appear nearby remained a mystery to her.
Only now did Stratus notice that the Emperor had lost all interest in her, examining another hologram before him. Moira strained to remember where she had seen this planet before, but couldn't.
"Now I understand why you didn't search us," Moira muttered, as soon as she, two guards, and Hermit were outside the throne room doors.
"You put yourself and your planet in great danger," Seybern said, and his tone made it hard to tell what emotions he was trying to convey with his speech. "You should be glad that your life was spared and that a punitive force wasn't dispatched against your world."
"And what will happen to Hermit?" Moira asked, swallowing a lump of resentment. She watched as the second guardsman, having extinguished his blades and twisting the Nimbus fighter's arm at an unnatural angle, led him in the opposite direction from the hangar. There, as Lady Stratus could see, were the doors of a turbolift. "What will the Emperor do?"
"He will be eliminated," Seybern replied.
Moira shuddered at the mundane tone in which he said it. No, she had seen death before — on the battlefield, where blood and horror reigned, and your life could end in an instant if you just lost focus. But the way the guardsman spoke about the death of an excellent soldier... Like an animal being led to slaughter.
Moira again felt the urge to stand up for her subordinate.
"I wouldn't advise it," the guardsman said quietly, turning to face her. "Your emotions betray you, Lady Stratus."
"Isn't there absolutely nothing that can be done?"
"One should think three times before bringing a weapon to an audience with the Emperor," the guardsman said didactically. "You should be grateful that you left the throne room alive," he glanced meaningfully at her shoes.
Moira felt embarrassed. An old army habit had nearly brought everything crashing down... The woman recalled for just a moment all the horror the Emperor had shown her. No, definitely — Jabiim needed a strong protector. So that the Republic and the Separatists would drown in blood if they ever dared to open their mouths again at the riches of her world.
They reached the hangar doors, where her shuttle awaited her return.
"I've been instructed to inform you that the Indomitable will deliver you to the rendezvous point," he reported and turned on his heel. Before disappearing through the citadel's doors, he added: "Keep in mind that the Emperor has ordered our auxiliary forces to be sent to your system. As punishment for your guard's attempt to use a weapon. Until there is a direct threat to your system, the main fleet will remain in the shadows nearby. Safe travels, Lady Stratus."
Watching the guardsman's back, Moira felt dirty. She had come here full of hope to secure preferences. And she had gotten... what? Auxiliary troops? She would need to question the talkative captain about what kind of beast that was.
Already sitting in the passenger seat, admiring the views of the sunlit hemisphere, Moira allowed herself a smile. Yes, the Emperor was quite a character. Most likely, one of the former Jedi — many had left their precious Order when the war started. And, like all Jedi, he was blind in his arrogance.
She didn't expect that her gesture might have been noticed. Nevertheless, even if it had been, it was done behind his back. A petty thing, perhaps, but it felt nice.
Few on Jabiim itself knew, and even fewer beyond it, that the mineral deposits would actually decline over the next twenty to thirty years to a level ordinary for any typical planet in the galaxy. And Jabiim would turn into a worthless clump of mud. But by that time the Empire would have poured enough credits into it so that after the mines shut down, the population could support themselves with other work.
Moira would see to that.
* * *
The moment the shackles fell away, the prisoner, no longer held by anything, collapsed to the floor like a sack. Her arms and legs barely obeyed her — it seemed that since her capture on Jabiim, she hadn't taken a single independent step.
Struggling to move her hands, the girl shook her thick mane of hair and got to her feet. Standing on trembling limbs, shamefully covering the rags of an old Jedi robe, she looked around like a cornered animal. Then, noticing a figure sitting on a throne, rightly judging who was in charge, she spoke with a slight hint of defiance:
"Who are you? What's going on?"
The figure waved a hand, overcoming her resistance without any effort, and lifted the girl into the air. Flailing helplessly, she was brought closer to the figure in the robes.
"How interesting," said the one called the Emperor, after the Jedi had made a full rotation before his eyes like a billboard. "Indeed — a wonderful specimen."
"I have a name," the girl flared. She tried to concentrate…
"And I know it, Zule Xiss," the Falleen felt her limbs grow cold. "Try to use your pheromones, and I'll tear you apart. Am I making myself clear?"
The former Padawan, feeling her bones crack, quickly nodded. The Force holding her disappeared, and the girl collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
"There is potential in you," the Emperor rumbled. "You came so close to the Dark Side…"
"I will never serve the Sith!" the girl declared dramatically. "I'd rather die!"
"Do you see a single Sith here?" the one sitting on the throne inquired coldly.
"You," she pointed accusingly at her interlocutor. "I sense Darkness in you."
"The same as I sense in you," he noted reasonably. "Life forces us to cast aside the absurd rules and doctrines that are crammed into our heads from birth. Don't you feel that on the brink of death, there on Jabiim, by drawing on the energy of the Dark Side, you became stronger?"
"A momentary weakness!"
"So why do you still keep doing it?"
The question left the Padawan stumped.
Aggressive and stubborn, more than five years ago she had been assigned to study under the Jedi Master Glive. Her teacher died when they were investigating the cause of destruction of a Gungan colony by Separatist chemical weapons — he fell victim to the mercenary Durge, from whom she herself had barely escaped. The monstrous scars on her back from his weapon still hurt — despite more than half a year having passed since they appeared. The Falleen suspected these were echoes of phantom pain, but she could do nothing about it.
Then a true hell began.
Along with other students who had lost their mentors during the war, she joined the Padawan Squad. And they were sent to Jabiim.
Zule shuddered the moment the image of that eternally rainy, slush-covered planet appeared in her memory. Rain that seeped everywhere, so cold that just looking at it was enough to make her body start to tremble.
It wasn't long before command of a huge military contingent fell onto the shoulders of Zule and her squad mates — all the more experienced Jedi had been killed, cut down by Jabiim's Nimbus Commandos.
Her last mission was the defense of Cobalt Station. Forty days and nights she spent in that world, constantly fighting and struggling for survival. Forty days and nights she walked the edge, drawing ever closer to the Dark Side.
Her natural aggression served as a conduit for cruelty on the battlefield. Like a deadly whirlwind, she crushed her enemies, reveling in the sensation of death. And there was no one around who could stop her.
Except for an AT-AT walker, which in its clumsy manner simply didn't notice the Falleen jumping around under its feet.
She remembered that moment well. How at the last second she managed to raise even a meager defense. How she lay in the mud for several hours, unable to crawl to the surface, because every movement brought pain.
And then came endless months of torture. The Nimbus Commandos, healing her wounds with bacta, kept interrogating her for the Republic's secrets. And only after growing accustomed to the thought that she had been abandoned here, left to die, without even checking if she was alive, did the girl finally break.
She knew little — and even that, for the most part, concerned plans and information that was long outdated.
However, even this attracted the attention of the locals. Well, she didn't mind. If it would help, even partly, to take revenge on the Republic. On the Jedi Council. For this betrayal. For her suffering. For her deprivations…
"Revenge is a wonderful motive," the Emperor's voice seemed to speak directly in her head. "But what will happen when you sate your hunger for vengeance? Not to mention that you will die if you act alone."
"That's my concern!"
"You're wrong," the Emperor rose from his seat. A small hologram of the galaxy appeared between them.
"There are over one hundred and eighty million star systems in the Unknown Regions," he reminded her. "Of these, only a third are currently not involved in the war in one way or another. However, two-thirds of the galaxy are afflicted by bloodshed. Millions of beings are exterminating each other. And all of it — because of the rulers of the Republic and the Jedi Council. They overlooked the return of the Sith. They couldn't put a stop to it when it was necessary. The result is a war that is only gaining momentum, with hundreds of worlds already in ruins and billions dead. Even more — destitute and wounded."
"I don't care about them," the girl snorted.
"You're wrong," the Emperor swept the hologram aside, causing it to disappear. "We, those sensitive to the Force, are not born to waste our time contemplating the Force and acting at its whim. We, you, I, all who serve my Empire — are born because we must bring peace and order to this galaxy."
"That's impossible," the girl declared. "The galaxy is enormous…"
"That's exactly what the Republic representatives said when they refused aid to Jabiim, which was suffering from an epidemic," the Emperor noted. "And how many more such 'Jabims' have there been? How many times have the corruption of the Senate and the political impotence of the Order led to collapse and conflict?"
The girl thought it over. Yes, there was something true in his logic. How had she herself not noticed before that it was the Council and the Republic who were to blame for what was happening?! Yes, perhaps not directly, but indirectly — they had started this war. They allowed worlds to secede that should have been brought back into the Republic from the very beginning, no matter what. Yes, perhaps this would have caused discontent among the Republic's citizens — but peace, at the cost of a small thing for a greater one… For that, it would have been worth breaking centuries-old inert traditions and launching a preemptive strike against the Separatist leaders as soon as they appeared, before they had time to create the Confederacy.
"Maybe so," the girl said cautiously. "But the Order is fighting precisely in order to end this war."
"Really? Then why aren't strikes being carried out against key Separatist worlds? Where their main factories and docks are located. Why isn't Count Dooku being hunted? And why isn't the Council doing anything proper to find the Sith in the Senate?"
"A Sith in the Senate?" the Falleen was horrified.
"Yes," the Emperor said confidently. "Didn't the Council inform all members of the Order about Count Dooku's words to Obi-Wan Kenobi on Geonosis? The Dark Lord of the Sith is manipulating this conflict, on each of its sides. His goal is to crush the Republic and the Jedi Order. Mine, however, is to take the best of the Jedi and reveal the truth to them. To show that the Force is indivisible. And each of us is capable of obtaining unprecedented power by maintaining Balance between the Dark and Light sides of the Force within ourselves. And only then will we have enough strength to put an end to the thousand-year confrontation between the Sith and the Jedi, who are tearing the galaxy apart. Only in this way — by gathering the galaxy together under my rule — can we stop the bloodshed in the future. This is my mission. And I offer you to join it. To become better than you were. To uncover the secrets that the Jedi Council has hidden from you and others. To know your true potential."
Zule opened her mouth to say, "This must be reported to the Council." And stopped herself.
Which Council? The same one that has considered her dead all this time? The one that made no attempt to retrieve the bodies of the fallen heroes from this filthy wet planet?
The Council didn't care about them. They were just expendable material for worthless politics. For incompetents who send others to the slaughter without even bothering to properly prepare the troops. If there had been more Juggernauts on Jabiim instead of repulsorlift and walking vehicles — they would have reached the capital and crushed the nationalists!
Hutt Council! Hutt Republic! Let them burn and suffer as she had suffered!
"I suggest looking at this from the outside," she said in an indifferent tone. The Emperor seemed to look at her with interest. "You are talking to me for this reason, aren't you? You want to recruit me into your service."
"And you're clever," a chuckle came from under the Emperor's mask. "I give credit to those who know their own worth and are not afraid to do what is necessary. You are one of those beings, aren't you? You know how to think for yourself?"
For the first time in her twenty-something years, Xiss felt that someone incredibly powerful, vested with authority, had paid attention to her. Not just as a fry darting around a pond among others like it. But as a person.
Zule listened to the Force for a moment. It itself seemed to be at a loss, not knowing where to direct its adept. It was as if the Force was afraid to reveal the future. The Falleen snorted in irritation.
The Light Side was cowardly. The Light Side was blind. It alone was a guarantee of defeat. It was no accident that the Order couldn't detect the Sith Lord right under its nose. But the rage of the Dark Side… Yes, that was a weapon that was always available and always ready to help. She had learned that on Jabiim, and she wasn't ready to part with that knowledge. Not for any cakes.
"Let's assume that service to an organization capable of crushing the Jedi and the Republic like slugs does interest me," the girl said. "But I am not going to be a pawn in anyone's hands."
"Believe me, my little one," the Emperor's mask's light filters flashed like black diamonds, "you will be rewarded according to your conscience."
Xiss felt a cold piercing her at these words. But perhaps this was an indicator of power? The Force so great that it sometimes breaks through the mortal shell. What Jedi could rival such a being?
Despite the comicalness of her appearance — a half-decayed, dirty, and torn Jedi robe — the girl knelt on one knee before the Emperor.
"I swear allegiance to your teachings…"
* * *
Waking brought pain.
Celeste felt her body as if it had turned to wood, and warmth barely filled her. But it gradually grew, pushing out the cold.
Her consciousness was still foggy, and colorful spots danced before her eyes.
"Deigned to finally wake up," a grumpy old voice sounded in her head.
The girl moved her hand with a quiet moan.
"I hoped that during the years in stasis you would die," she admitted.
"I am a Sith Lord, foolish child," the spirit of Karness Muur reminded her caustically. "I cannot die."
Her mind filled with a slight pain. The ancient Sith was again trying to show who was in charge in her head.
Celeste, fortunately, as strength returned to her exponentially, cut short by an effort of will his next attempts to gain control of her body.
"You can console yourself with this small victory, Jedi," Muur said mockingly, "but in the end, victory will still be mine."
"I heard the same thing when I first took possession of your Talisman, Sith," Celeste replied defiantly. "And, as you can see, you are still locked in my mind."
In response, she heard a mocking laugh.
"It won't last long, Jedi. My followers are already here."
The girl, with a sinking heart, turned to the Great Force. Having encompassed all surrounding space with its help, she noted with an internal groan that this time the Sith was right.
They were on a ship — a huge starship, clearly a warship — the numerous weapon mounts spoke for themselves. Celeste sensed the presence of a huge concentration of the Force in the same compartment. And, as if mocking her sacrifice, the possessor of this Force clearly was not a member of the Jedi Order.
"Oh, Zayne, did you not keep your word…"
A sad thought threw her back into the past.
Her entire conscious life she had served the Light Side of the Force. As a member of the Jedi Order, as an agent of a secret organization within the Order — the Covenant. She had devoted herself to serving the Covenant after her entire family died in a conflict with the Sith. The Covenant was a secret group of Jedi that had set itself the goal of standing guard, destroying any artifacts of the Dark Side to prevent the return of the Sith to the galaxy. A truly noble goal, since only by destroying knowledge of the Dark Side could the Jedi protect the galaxy from new destruction.
Her last assignment was to track down the artifact, the Muur Talisman, once belonging to the Dark Lord of the Sith Karness Muur, capable of turning all living things into dangerous monsters — rakghouls — and controlling them. A dangerous invention of the ancient Sith, capable in an instant of turning the galaxy into a graveyard teeming with venomous and plague-ridden rakghouls. It simply had to be found and destroyed.
Furthermore, the Covenant set her the goal of finding and delivering to them for trial the rogue Padawan Zayne, accused of the numerous murders of Padawans on Taris.
And, without exaggeration, it could be said that she had almost completed both tasks. She had found the Padawan and learned the fate of the artifact, which had been obtained by the Mandalorians and taken to Jebble. Following the path of the invaders, who without a doubt intended to use the artifact to create an army of monsters capable of turning people into their own kind with just a bite or a scratch, Celeste came to the conclusion that Zayne might be innocent of what the Covenant accused him of. And in the future, this assumption was only confirmed — Carrick valued any life too much, even the fates of the Mandalorians who were sowing Chaos in the galaxy. In the pursuit of preventing the artifact from falling into the hands of villains, Celeste made the decision to become its victim. Because only she had enough strength and internal control to keep the Sith locked in her mind and not allow him to consume the galaxy, turning its entire population into monsters under the control of the Dark Side.
Only one means could help in those circumstances.
Zayne immersed her in Draay's Ark — a Sith stasis chamber — promising to deliver the device along with Celeste to the Covenant's base, where the Jedi were supposed to help her. Celeste, taking advantage of the fact that her vision had partially recovered, could see that she was still lying in the Ark. A Sith artifact, where she had spent… Hutt, how long had she slept?
"Good morning, Master Morn," she heard a voice. It came from the only living being on the ship. A being possessing enormous potential in the Force. But it was clearly not an adept of the Light Side…
"How long? How long were we… How long was I… inside?" her voice faltered, and Muur, deciding to mock her, began to confuse her thoughts. The Jedi, by an effort of will, forced him to retreat to the farthest corner of her mind.
"Four thousand years," said the stranger, who had appeared next to her. The woman, whose vision had returned to normal, saw before her a being clad from head to toe in armor, over which was worn a black and silver mantle. Glancing at his belt, she saw a lightsaber hilt hanging there. "Give or take a few years."
"Oh, Great Force," she prayed. FOUR THOUSAND YEARS! What had happened in that time?! Why had Zayne not kept his word?! How could it be that the artifact was still on her?! Who had betrayed her? Carrick? The Covenant? Or perhaps the Mandalorians had captured her and held her prisoner all this time? But then who was this…
"Calm down, Celeste," advised the being in armor. "You have been in stasis for too long…"
The girl felt that her momentary panic had cost too much. Muur, taking advantage of her confusion, managed to break through the mental barriers. A blood-red specter of the ancient Sith appeared on the other side of her prison.
"I, Karness Muur, one of the first Sith Lords!" he proclaimed solemnly. "You are strong, stranger. Crush her mind so that the body becomes mine, and your reward will be indescribable!"
Celeste in horror tried to restore her mental blocks, but it seemed the Sith had managed to seize control after all. All her efforts came to nothing — her defense had fallen, and restoring it required more Force than she could command at that moment.
"Biting off more than you can chew, old man?" the stranger said with feigned surprise. "What makes you so cocky?"
Celeste felt the owner of the talisman freeze. Their mental bond was literally screaming with his wounded dignity and indignation. And a suspicion dawned on the girl that, even though her savior was not a strict adherent of the Light — through the flashes of the Dark Side swirling around him, she still felt no small amount of light in his aura — but also not a follower of the Sith teachings. So perhaps he could help!
"Don't listen to him!" she said. "He wants to use the power of his artifact, which turns all beings into monsters — rakghouls," she touched the jewel-like object on her neck, "to rule the galaxy…"
"That's why there are no beings on this ship besides me. But as for ruling the galaxy, old man," the stranger turned his head toward the specter, "I have to disappoint you. I don't need competitors."
"Pathetic pup!" the Sith growled, waving his hands. Sparks crackled at his fingertips…
And in the next second, the specter was pinned to the bulkhead as soon as the stranger raised his hand. Celeste felt in horror how streams of the Force — Dark and Light side — swirled around him, which, turning into visible gray clots of energy like stakes, pierced the specter's body like a pack of hounds, crucifying him like an ancient god.
The Sith growled. The former Covenant agent sensed that the specter was not just angry. He literally radiated waves of rage, confusion, agitation, and… fear. She simply could not believe her senses. For the first time in all the time they had been together, the powerful Sith was afraid of something! Not just an abstract threat, but a specific living person!
Was it possible that in four thousand years, the adepts of the Force had learned to fight such manifestations of the Dark Side? Unbelievable!
Meanwhile, ignoring the curses raining from the specter, the stranger walked right up to him. Reaching out his hand, he GRABBED THE SPECTER BY THE THROAT!
Celeste could not believe her eyes! Never before had she even seen — nor even heard of — such handling of the Force.
"This galaxy is mine, old fart," the armored being said quietly. Celeste saw his body begin to glow red, as if a supervolcano had awakened inside him. And at the same time, the contrast of the specter itself slowly, almost imperceptibly, began to dim.
"What are you doing, madman!?" cried Muur. "My power is beyond your understanding! If you continue to absorb it, it will tear you apart! No one possesses such willpower to compel me…"
"Unfortunately for you," the stranger said in the same colorless voice, "I have an excellent teacher. Compared to whom, you and your friends — the Exiles — are just kindergarten, group seven."
"You are a fool!" Celeste overcame her weakness, climbing out of the Ark. Whoever this stranger was, she should be on guard. She just needed to restore her strength… "I possess all the secrets of the Sith! I can give you enormous power!"
"And what can you offer me?" the stranger inquired with a smirk.
"My knowledge of the Dark Side is limitless!" the specter began to seduce his tormentor. "I possess Sith magic, alchemy. No one has mastered the healing methods of the Dark Side of the Force as deeply as I! You need them — to get rid of your disfigurement! You suffered from the influence of the Dark Side! And only my knowledge can heal you!"
"And that's all?" boredom appeared in the stranger's voice. "I have XoXaan's holocron — and there's plenty of that stuff in there! Offer me something else so I'll let you continue to exist."
"XoXaan is just a child compared to my power!" the Sith continued. "I can tell you about the hiding places of my allies, where great treasures and knowledge are hidden!"
"My patience is running out…"
"Sorzus Syn!" the specter, now almost transparent, screamed hysterically. "I know where her holocron is hidden!"
"I have that one too," his interlocutor shrugged. "A fake, though…"
"She hid the real one in her laboratory on Ziost!" Muur was no longer shouting, he was howling. "I know where it is — my memory holds many secrets that I will share with you!"
"Remulus Draay!" at the name of the creator of her prison, Celeste shuddered. "How to find his Ark?!"
"Right here it is!" the specter said, his eyes spinning in shock, pointing at the open maw of the device in which the Jedi Master had spent the last four thousand years.
"Draay created another one, I suspect, just before leaving Korriban with his supporters," the one who had captured the specter clenched his free hand into a fist, causing the specter to literally shriek. Celeste, unable to bear the fluctuations in the Force, unsuccessfully tried to muffle the screams by covering her ears with her hands. In vain. It seemed Muur's pain was pulsing in her head.
"Yes, yes, yes!" the specter nodded. "You're right, I remember! There was another one! Remulus equipped them with beacons that work on the same frequency…"
"Why?!"
"So that we, those who remained on Korriban, could follow him and enjoy his triumph. He intended to destroy the Republic and the Jedi…"
"What else can you offer me?"
"All my knowledge!" There was a plea in Muur's whisper. But judging by the specter's diminishing presence in the Force, his lamentations interested no one.
The ancient Sith himself understood this.
And before Morn could do anything, she felt the sharp claws of the amulet release her neck. A triumphant smirk appeared on the face of Muur's specter as the artifact soared into the air, heading toward the stranger's head.
"What an old stump," the stranger said in a voice devoid of emotion. With his free hand, he grabbed the amulet so that the sound of crushing metal reached Morn's ears, who was in a semi-conscious state.
"It cannot be," Karness gasped. "This defies explanation. Spare my life, and I will serve you."
"That's not part of my plans," Celeste felt that the stranger had seemingly turned into a black hole that mercilessly absorbed the remains of the howling specter. His figure began to glow unbearably red. Waves of rage emanated from him in all directions, causing almost physical pain to Celeste. Every cell of her body screamed in pain, making the girl lose spatial orientation and fall to her knees, grabbing the edge of the Ark.
Her body burned as if plunged into lava. Every part of her, even her hair, emitted streams of pain that clouded her consciousness. The former Covenant agent felt she was about to fall into oblivion.
And then everything went quiet…
Muur's energy disappeared, leaving behind only an unpleasant aftertaste. As if she had just eaten rotten meat…
Her head, like cast iron, drooped toward the floor. Colorful dots danced before her eyes. The girl felt waves of nausea. However, her stomach had been empty for the last four thousand years, so spasms bent her double, forcing her to expel bile and unseemly sounds.
In the midst of this activity, she heard a metal object hit the floor with a thud.
With the last of her strength, the girl lifted her eyes from the floor, calling on the Force to clear her consciousness.
Right in front of her, about half a meter away, lay a metal mask. The very one she had seen on the stranger's face. And golden pieces, in which, with indescribable relief, she recognized the pieces of Muur's talisman.
Then the hem of his cloak came into view. Feet changed to knees — her liberator knelt before her. Celeste felt cold metal fingers touch her chin. Against her will, her head tilted upward.
The girl barely stifled a scream.
The face of the one who had destroyed her curse was terrible. Covered with pieces of melted skin, roughened exposed muscles, dried crusts of blood, lacking nasal cartilage, covered with pale scars, with disfigured lips, a human face looked at her. Or rather, the face of one who had once been human. And from the depths of the hood, two ice chips studded with amber points looked at her, as if illuminated by an inner fire.
Celeste tried to pull away from him, but with his free hand, the man grabbed her by her long braid and drew her closer. Their faces were almost touching, and she could feel his warm, pleasant breath. And the light tickling of her mind…
The Jedi instinctively tried to block his intrusion into her thoughts. But it seemed her weakened body couldn't resist. What's more, the longer this terrible man was inside her head, the faster her headache faded. And the stronger the Dark Side swirled around him. And the greater her fear of this being grew.
"Don't resist, Celeste, I don't want to hurt you," the man said quietly. "Muur simply couldn't leave you out of sheer spite without damaging your brain. Fortunately, dear uncle Karness left me a lot of useful things…"
Celeste felt streams of the Force flowing into her numb body. The fire and pain receded, replaced by relaxation and coolness…
She was inexorably drawn toward sleep, but she tried with all her might not to give in. The Jedi Master understood perfectly that her lethargic state must be dictated by this man's influence on her through the Force. Having escaped one captivity, she had no intention of falling into a second.
Morrn slowly reached for her belt. Thank the Force, her lightsaber was in its place.
Trying not to draw attention to herself, she unclipped the weapon and pointed its emitter away from her…
"Just try it," a cold sensation washed over her. The exposed areas of her skin instantly broke out in goosebumps. "You won't kill me, but you'll disappoint me greatly."
Feeling her strength restored and her mind clear, Celeste also sensed an immense fatigue in the man sitting across from her.
With two strong, sharp movements, she broke free of his grip and, putting distance between them, activated her weapon, pointing it at the man who remained seated on the floor.
"You're a Sith!" she declared. "Such marks are left by the Dark Side after prolonged use!"
"Rolling asphalt into rolls!" the man said. He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. Celeste looked at the ugly face again without fear. And couldn't help but gasp.
Literally before her eyes, the disfigured features were vanishing. Scars, scabs, melted skin—all of it was slowly but surely softening, smoothing over, covering the damaged areas. Not believing her eyes, Morrn wrapped herself in the Force to interrupt any possible attack on her mind.
However, the man remained sitting on the floor. She silently watched as he threw back the hoods of his cloak and armor from his equally hideous head, and the metamorphosis his face was undergoing spread to his skull as well. Celeste would bet that his entire body was similarly deformed. And now it was healing!
The records of the Covenant contained information that the Sith knew how to use the Dark Side for healing. But Celeste had never been a living witness to such a bacchanalia of Darkness.
Finally, after a long time, the man—she had no doubt about it now—rose to his feet, brushing invisible dust from his robe with a simple gesture.
"There, that's much better," he said, looking somewhere at the wall beside her. The girl threw a quick glance, spotting a large mirror mounted in the bulkhead. Only now, with an unclouded view, did she realize she was in a spacious medbay on a spaceship. But that changed little—an enemy now stood before her. And it was Celeste's duty to destroy any manifestation of the Dark Side.
Yet, looking into this relatively young, slightly elongated, high-cheekboned face, with a strong chin, a straight nose, and completely hairless like a newborn baby, the Jedi Master couldn't find the strength within herself to rush into battle.
The devastation of Celeste's homeworld during the wars with the Sith had led her to hate them with all her heart. She sincerely believed that serving the Covenant—despite its corruption—was a good thing. The empty vigil of the Jedi High Council in her time was the very trigger that pushed her toward the Covenant. The eradication of any manifestation of the Dark Side—that was the key to the galaxy's peaceful existence. And for that, any means were justified.
Four thousand years, which had passed for her like an instant, hadn't erased her impatient, rude, and at times arrogant nature. It had only dulled for a while—while she was weak and couldn't control the situation. But now… the Jedi Master, freed from her burden, thought regretfully about how unfairly she had acted during her brief cooperation with Zayne Carrick and his assistant. Not an hour passed without her insulting them. But only after four thousand years, realizing that everyone she had ever known and loved had long since turned to dust scattered by the winds across the galaxy, the girl, looking into the face of a man shrouded in both the Dark and Light Sides, began to think.
Four thousand years ago, she would have attacked without hesitation and wouldn't have spared a thing just to finish off this monster. He had directly said that Muur was his rival in the matter of conquering the galaxy. Jedi don't follow such principles—only those whose hearts are indelibly distorted by the teachings of the Sith strive for power.
And at the same time, when her mind was not clouded by the Sith's machinations, she was acutely aware—her sense of justice, her compassion for life—hadn't gone anywhere. She couldn't kill without necessity. Even back when she was a simple agent, encountering a man infected with the rakghoul plague on Taris, she hadn't dared to end his life until he had mutated and become a danger to those around him.
She had a pragmatic view of life. Evil begets evil, aggression begets aggression. Intolerance invites retaliation. Oppression leads to rebellion. Her iron will and dedication to protecting the galaxy from Sith influence had ultimately led to her imprisonment for four thousand years. A captivity from which, like the burden of the Muur Talisman, she had been freed by this man. Back then, accepting the heavy burden, she had weighed the pros and cons and decided to bond with the artifact, believing that only she could withstand the influence of the ghost and his vile talisman. For that reason, she hadn't allowed Carrick to sacrifice himself on Jebble by removing the Talisman from him.
For the same reason, when she managed to overcome the artifact's influence in the Mandalorian ice fortress on Jebble, she voluntarily agreed to enter stasis—such a threat to the galaxy had to be eliminated. Celeste felt disappointment upon realizing that Carrick, for some reason, hadn't been able to keep his word and deliver her to the Covenant base. She needed to find out why. Fortunately, she was free now.
The concept of "friendship" didn't exist for her. Celeste never formed close attachments to anyone. For her, there were only two categories of beings—"enemies," towards whom she was merciless, and "allies," which included those who could impress her. Those she could trust. And while the number of the former was steadily shrinking, the second category… at the moment, it simply didn't exist.
"So, are we fighting, or maybe we could talk?" the man forcefully drew the mask towards himself, fastening it to his belt. "I think you have questions piling up."
And on that point, he was absolutely right.
"Who are you?"
"Jedi Master Rick Dougan," he made a playful bow. "Member of the High Council of the Order."
"Liar," the girl accused, jabbing her blade at him. "Only Masters can sit on the Council."
"Oh, this brave new world," the man smirked, stroking his bald head. "A lot has changed in four thousand years. But believe me—I was no less surprised than you. Especially considering that the Council bowed to the will of a Sith Lord, breaking their own traditions like that."
Celeste felt her world collapse. Jedi serving a Sith? That simply couldn't be! And for all this, she had spent so many years in cryo, like a piece of bantha fillet?!
"To the Order's credit, I can say they don't know the galaxy is controlled by the Sith," Dougan added. Seeing the bewilderment and confusion on Celeste's face, he explained the reason for his remark. "Don't forget, I was in your head. You're an open book to me, Shadow."
"Don't flatter yourself, Sith," she growled. "You took advantage of a moment of weakness."
"You know, that's an unfair accusation," a smirk ran across the man's face. "Yes, I'm not an ardent supporter of the Light Side. Or the Dark. But you could at least thank me for being the first person in four thousand years to decide to relieve you of your burden. You're welcome, by the way."
Morrn ground her teeth quietly, letting the barb go in one ear and out the other.
"I don't want to fight you, Celeste," the Sith said. And in his voice, the girl heard a genuine desire to avoid a battle. "I hold the power of Karness Muur and Exar Kun within me. Plus, I literally just yesterday absorbed one of the Sources of Power, and familiarized myself with a couple of holocrons. If it comes to open confrontation—I'll spread you across the entire universe in such a thin layer that even the midi-chlorians would need a microscope to see your remains."
She understood this perfectly well—the girl knew Muur's power well. And the historical chronicles unequivocally spoke of Kun as one of the most terrible threats to the galaxy, for whose destruction practically all available forces of the Order had to be assembled. What could be expected from a man who, right before her eyes, dispatched the ghost of one of the Exiles so easily that even she couldn't have imagined such a thing? For some reason, she didn't want to doubt his words that he had managed to acquire Kun's power.
"How can the Jedi not know about the existence of a Sith?" she demanded an answer.
"Because they have crap for brains instead of minds," the man spread his arms. "In your time, the Jedi were seriously lax—now it's become outright criminal negligence. Even more than that—a Sith leads the Republic and meets with representatives of the High Council daily. And they're still looking for a cat in a dark room, not even suspecting it's been in plain sight all along."
"You insult the wisdom of the Council!" the girl boiled over. "Yes, none of us is perfect, but such a thing…"
"You know, I could just open my mind to you and show you how things are," the man offered. "I'll tell you about how the Sith will thoroughly destroy the Order, plunging the galaxy into terror and lawlessness for decades. And it will go on for a good hundred years—with varying degrees of intensity. And in the end, the entire civilized galaxy will prefer to live under the rule of the Empire rather than endure constant squabbles and deprivations."
"How would you know that, you abomination?" Celeste couldn't help the insult. "Sith can't see the future."
"That's because I'm not a Sith," he answered simply. "Or a Jedi. Not anymore."
"So what do you call yourself?"
"The Immortal Emperor of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, in whose system you currently are," he explained coldly. "Onboard one of my ships, by the way. I had to evacuate the crew so Muur couldn't turn them into rakghouls. Or so you wouldn't be tempted by such a way to weaken me."
Celeste was silent. She felt the man was speaking the truth. But her innate stubbornness wouldn't allow her to accept what she'd heard on faith.
"You told Muur you planned to conquer the galaxy," she recalled.
"Basically, yes," Morrn was surprised by the matter-of-fact tone in which he confessed his intention to plunge the inhabited worlds into chaos. "Either me—or the Sith."
"I don't see much of a difference."
"That doesn't mean there isn't one. You see, I'm open to new things, and therefore I believe it's time to stop using the Force for petty squabbles. The teachings of the Je'daii, in my opinion, are the truest. That's why in my Empire, Force-sensitives don't serve ephemeral ideals. My Imperial Knights use all their abilities to eliminate threats before they gain strength and threaten mass death."
"That sounds more than reasonable," Celeste's pragmatic nature echoed the Emperor's statement.
"As you can see, while the Order rests on the laurels of the past, unable to notice the growing threat right under its nose, those who aren't indifferent to the fate of the galaxy have to take action."
"In your person?"
"And what makes me worse than what could be? In my Empire, there are always jobs, no hunger, no slavery, no oppression. And no one sits idly by while evil gains strength. As you can see, I don't consider it beneath me to verify an ancient legend about a hero of the past who protected the galaxy from the threat of the rakghoul plague. Note—me, the one you've been covering in filth. Not your vaunted Jedi Order."
"You needed Muur's power," she countered. "Not me."
"You're wrong. It's two Hutts dissolved in one vat of acid. His power, which I need to match the greatest evil in this galaxy. And one of the best Jedi Shadows in galactic history. Believe me, the galaxy, as before, is full of threats from various radical sects, for whose elimination your help would be useful."
"You think I'll help you destroy the Jedi Order, which I served all my life?" Celeste said defiantly.
"The Order will be destroyed without me," Dougan shook his head. "I'm trying to save everyone I can. Join me, and together we can save far more lives than if I acted alone. I have a strong feeling that you can improve even the best plan."
"And what if I refuse?" the girl's eyes narrowed.
"You're not a stupid woman. I'll let you go—and it won't be long before the Republic comes here, destroying everything created by backbreaking labor. I'm not a bloodthirsty animal, so if you refuse…" he looked meaningfully at the ark. Celeste, following his gaze, flinched instinctively. No, she wasn't going back into stasis. Not for any cakes.
"I'll help you defeat the Sith," she said after a moment's thought. She deactivated her weapon and returned it to her belt. "But my blade will never be stained with the blood of Jedi."
"That works for me," the Emperor smiled. "Take my word for it, it won't be long before you change your mind."
The certainty with which the man said this made Celeste flinch again. What terrible thing had happened in the galaxy that saving it required plunging it into the chaos of war?