"Glad to welcome you, Emperor," as soon as the Zakuulan shuttle's belly touched the permacrete surface of the vast artificial habitat, the head of the Incom corporation hurried to leave his small retinue and greet me personally.
"The feeling's mutual, Kat," I shook the man's hand, looking around. "You've set yourselves up quite nicely here…"
This place was once called the Endless Swamp—for its boundless waters surrounded by lush vegetation teeming with various creatures. Now, the natural landscape had given way to an artificial one.
Old World—the first city to appear on Zakuul during Valkorion's reign—had been, during my first visit, a backwater that hadn't stood the test of time. Once, the dregs of the Eternal Empire had settled here—criminals, outcasts, refugees. The idle Zakuulans living in the metropolis built atop the structures of the Old World—the Spire—hadn't cared at all for these categories of the population.
But now a completely different picture opened before me.
The first settlement had come alive with new colors. Most of the buildings had undergone significant reconstruction—instead of huge residential complexes, the surface of Zakuul was now covered with monumental factory buildings, hangars, and warehouses, surrounded by endless permacrete fields. When Nadia claimed that the Xi Char had changed this place for the better after their arrival, I had expected many things—but not this paradise for an industrialist's eyes.
The Spire occupied an area of several hundred square kilometers.
But the Old City lying at its foot covered several tens of thousands. And all of it had now been turned into an endless factory complex. Moreover, the structures of the Haor Chall corporation differed significantly in their streamlined appearance from the part of the city that had fallen under Incom's control.
Dalig, on the other hand, had preferred characteristic human architecture in his complex—rectangular buildings, spacious hangars, a territory fenced off along the perimeter and dotted with control towers.
"We had time to adapt such a huge space to our needs," the man smiled.
"The main thing is that it's useful for business. Speaking of which. How are things progressing with our project?"
The man smiled.
"Better than could have been assumed at the very start. Allow me to demonstrate instead…"
The CEO's retinue bowed respectfully, greeting me and my companions. Unlike the Incom people, my staff was quite small. Celeste, Oli, Alpha, Balda, and a few guards. And the R3 unit quietly rolling along behind everyone, which had finally, after all this time, returned to its master. Modest, but tasteful. On Republic territory, I was just an ordinary Jedi—one of many. But here…
On Zakuul, everything felt different.
This world was overflowing with the Force, which harmonized with my own power. And as a result, it took very little effort on my part to sense the mood of the beings around me.
My ego was slightly gratified by the rays of sincere devotion that literally shone from the Incom engineers and designers who silently shadowed their boss towards the main hangar, which sprawled at the edge of a capacious landing pad.
And as soon as the massive gates slid open, I saw the corporation's holy of holies.
The prototype testing ground.
The central part of the indoor proving ground was occupied by two squadrons of starfighters, the mere sight of which made my heart ache with sweet bliss.
"You actually made them," I said.
"Not only made them, Emperor," Dalig had been one of the last to learn the background of what was happening. However, despite my worries, he had taken it indifferently. Business as usual, just changed employers. What difference did it make who financed your company if the previous customer preferred to reduce the volume of orders? "But we also significantly improved the original prototype."
"I'm eager to hear the details," I approached the nearest X-wing. Hmm, it seemed Kat had taken my drawing as a categorical wish regarding the hull shape. And so, now before my eyes stood practically an exact copy of Wedge Antilles' beloved ship.
"Before you is the base model," the head of Incom explained. "It's registered in the company files as the T-65. Among ourselves, we call it the 'X-wing,'" hearing my pleased grunt, Dalig smiled and continued. "A single-seat multi-role starfighter. An evolutionary development of the ARC-170 and Z-95 Headhunter projects. It has four laser cannons located at the ends of the wings, which, when switching to combat mode, deploy into the characteristic cross formation. To reach cruising speed at sublight velocities, the wings must still be folded into a horizontal position. It is equipped with four ion engines and a hyperdrive. Like the ARC-170, for managing the navigation system and fixing minor malfunctions, the starfighter has an astromech droid in a special socket behind the pilot's seat—an R2 or R3 series will do."
Kat glanced meaningfully at my astromech droid. Well, that was clear enough.
"And all in just six months," I shook my head. No, it was genuinely a pleasant surprise! In the original, it took about twenty years to design this very X-wing. And here…
"I recall asking you to take care of the placement of missile armament and deflectors," turning my head toward the Incom CEO, I noted that his mood hadn't changed at all. It seemed he wasn't finished with the brief presentation.
"The deflector generators are integrated into the structure," he confirmed my suspicions. "We spent a lot of time solving the missile issue. In the end, we had to abandon placing them on the wings—that leads to reduced aerodynamics and overloads the fuselage. Therefore, the chief designer of the X-wing line," he pointed to a middle-aged man with an impressive beard standing next to him, "Zki Roel, decided to place the launchers under the starfighter's belly."
Without much ceremony, I crouched down, following the direction the corporation head was pointing. Hmm, indeed. Under the belly of the X-wing were two recessed shafts that could initially be mistaken for air intakes for atmospheric flight. Two bulges, shaped like halves of cones, mounted edgewise into the fuselage, didn't give even a hint that they were launchers for deadly weapons.
"The starfighter can carry five guided missiles with modified seeker heads for each of the launch shafts," Kat continued. "Furthermore, the lower part of the fuselage, which houses the launchers and their ammunition, is a replaceable module. If desired, the X-wing can carry up to six proton torpedoes, or four ultra-heavy baradium bombs."
"So, instead of a heavy fighter, you've developed a universal platform—a fighter-bomber," I summed up.
"The ARC-170, like the Headhunter, showed us that creating highly specialized small craft is a dead-end path," the designer chimed in. "And I decided to develop a universal platform with a replaceable module. This significantly simplifies maintenance—preparing a fighter for launch takes only four minutes. Two of which are for installing the replaceable armament module."
"Sounds extremely optimistic," I admitted.
"Our ship is completely autonomous," Kat continued. "Unlike, say, Sienar's interceptors, our pilot can leave his ship and survive in space for just over five hours. Also, the cockpit has a storage compartment where up to twenty kilograms of personal belongings can be stored. Not to mention the cockpit ergonomics and the simplicity of the control panel. If necessary, the ship doesn't need a carrier—it can make hyperspace jumps on its own, and it won't affect the pilot's health."
"An excellent raider," I remarked. "For a 'hit-and-run' tactic, you couldn't ask for better."
"We hoped you would appreciate our work," the man smiled. "Of course, we are continuing work on this model—in particular, we want to change the skin, without losing strength, but gaining in lower mass. For now, we're working with what we have. But the existing samples have passed the most demanding tests and were rated top-class by your subordinates. Darth Malgus, Lady Atroxa, and Lady Vette personally verified the quality of our machines. Incidentally, I incurred the wrath of Lord Malgus by refusing to provide him with all available T-65 samples for his fleet until I received your approval."
"Nothing serious," I snorted. "He'll get over it."
I heard a restrained chuckle from my apprentice. Glancing at her, I noticed the girl instantly made her face serious. Celeste, meanwhile, was examining the space-black X-wings with poorly concealed interest.
Only the guards were commendable—standing calmly, keeping watch. I'd have to thank Ashara, who was still on Zakuul, for such excellent servants. Every single one was strong in the Force, perfectly trained in the use of a lightsaber and the Force. Having such guardians was a true pleasure. And now that Sith magic had bound their minds to mine so strongly that they couldn't even conceive of betraying the Empire or its first person, I felt somehow calmer.
The Emperor is played by his retinue. And at this point, possessing loyal Hands, followers, and guardians loyal to me, I can confidently say that against the backdrop of those who stand behind me, my greatness and authority are not only preserved but overshadow any other. Moira Stratus has already felt firsthand what the aura of the Immortal Emperor, amplified by his selflessly devoted servants, is like…
"And what about these machines?" I pointed to a squadron of starfighters as black as night, externally resembling the aforementioned X-wings. But slightly smaller in size and in the shape of some details.
"Well, this is our current project," Kat explained. He walked over to the coal-black starfighter and patted its nose paternally. "It's in the refinement stage. Its potential is enormous."
"Kat," I interrupted him politely. "What modification is this?"
"Oh, this is a separate line of X-wings. We call them 'StealthX'."
Good thing I was wearing a mask. It would have been funny to see the Emperor of Zakuul with wide eyes.
The thing is, in the Expanded Universe, there was a case where Incom created the StealthX. These were X-wings whose hulls were made of a special material that scattered the scanning beams of enemy detection systems. The black coloring made the ships visually invisible against the backdrop of space. Furthermore, the creator had heavily modified the propulsion system, so that the fuel's decay products dissipated literally the second after being expelled from the nozzles.
"Our friends from Haor Chall Engineering," Kath nodded toward the adjacent production complex, "gave us a wonderful idea — to use fiberplast instead of a titanium-durasteel alloy, like on a standard fighter. The chief engineer on this project is Lana Kut."
In the group accompanying the company's CEO, there was only one woman. More precisely — a young woman with regular features, dressed in an expensive office dress with a hair clasp bearing the updated Incom Corporation emblem: a black X-wing silhouette against a schematic image of a red planet. Hmm, it seemed this fighter had won the creators' hearts from the very first moments of its design — she had significantly reworked the original X-wing design. This version had no additional armament and was almost a meter shorter than the standard model. Yet it possessed the most advanced scanning system in the galaxy. Additionally, they had managed to minimize ionic emissions, so no one would be able to track their product by traces of spent fuel. But there were drawbacks. So far, they hadn't been able to combine deflector shield technology with the principles of making the ship invisible to sensors. They had encountered a number of problems that compromised the ship's stealth. Specifically, an active deflector field, a shot from onboard energy weapons, or the use of an external communication system would completely reveal the ship to enemy sensors. "But," seeing that I had returned my gaze toward the Death Star's killer, Kath hurried to step back into my line of sight, "we are refining the project and are confident of success. We just need a little more time…"
"You have it, Kath," I admitted. "Initiative-driven individuals serving the Zakuul Empire are the most precious resource. Your fighters are perfection itself. So, you should begin production of finished X-wing models right away."
"In what quantity?" Dalig was practically radiating satisfaction. Well, of course — to produce such a beautiful product in such a short time, and to receive praise from the head of state without a single complaint.
"Everything you can manufacture." A wave of murmuring rippled through the Incom entourage accompanying Kath. "And don't rush to solve the communication problem on the 'invisibles.' These ships won't be used by ordinary beings."
Once again, astonishment. Even Oli and Celeste in the Force flared with bewilderment. Well, no one expected me to discuss my decisions, did they?
"My sovereign," the head of the company said, his voice slightly changed with surprise. "Even though we have a limited number of assembly lines here on Zakuul, we can still produce no less than seven squadrons of X-wings per week. That's a huge volume. If we bring all of Incom's capacity online, that number will increase tenfold. I don't question your wisdom, but we could simply produce too much equipment."
"Kath," I turned to face the man. "You just focus on production. And as for pilots for these ships — they will be found. Rest assured."
* * *
The Prelate met the distinguished guests at the entrance to the workshops.
The master had graciously revealed his plan to him — to partake in the work of art that Haor Chall Engineering was creating for the Eternal Empire of Zakuul.
And so, in the sanctuaries that unenlightened humanoids called "workshops," the members of the Xi Char Order were preparing their creations for the supreme review.
Many in the galaxy considered their devotion to high-precision engineering — which for the Xi Char race was akin to the worship of a deity — to be merely a convenient pretense that allowed them to charge exorbitant prices to their clients.
Humanoids could never understand what the creation of perfect technology meant for their race, for their faith.
And here, on Zakuul, while studying the remains of a long-dead world and examining samples of its technology, the Prelate had encountered a worthy competitor for the first time in his life.
No, certainly, the ancient technology of Zakuul was inferior to modern analogs. Despite the lack of any major revolutionary progress in the galaxy over the last four thousand years, technology had still evolved. Computers had improved information processing speed and calculation accuracy. Weapons had become more lethal. Ships — faster.
However, one could not help but note how skillfully the ancient beings had created their droids.
The Prelate knew how to acknowledge the triumphs of others. And so, the extremely meticulously thought-out design of the ancient Zakuulans' technology commanded his respect. Yes, they were far from the Xi Char themselves. But the quality of execution of Zakuul's technology incomparably surpassed what the galaxy's leading droid manufacturers could offer. Therefore, the Xi Char approached their mission with great reverence — to study and improve what could serve the Eternal Empire. And for that reason, the battle droids once created on Zakuul and in the Sith worlds were now finding new life, becoming even more deadly for their enemies.
Word had reached the order that they were not the only ones doing such work for the benefit of their new master.
Despite the fact that many years ago, Raith Sienar had stolen a very valuable technology from their workshops — one that allowed him to optimize the performance of his own invention, the solar ionization generator — the Xi Char leader no longer held a grudge against him. Only because the consequences for that foolish young man had been far more dire for him than for them. The death of a parent uninvolved in the descendant's affairs was a tragedy even by Haor Chall Engineering's standards. Therefore, the Prelate considered the revenge already served, and no more assassins had come for Raith Sienar's life.
They had not seen each other for many years. The Prelate had already had the opportunity to study the Empire's ships upgraded by Sienar. And he had to admit that the time Raith had spent in their workshops had done him good. Yes, he was still far from the Xi Char themselves. Still, the progress was evident. It was no coincidence the master had chosen Sienar for the position of chief shipwright of the Eternal Empire. And, since the ships he built were continuously arriving in the system, it meant the Emperor was more than satisfied with his work.
Now, the Prelate himself had to answer to his client.
"Xi Char are glad to welcome you, master," said TC-97, the personal translator of the Xi Char leader and spiritual mentor. "The Prelate conveys to you words of joy at this reunion."
"Tell him that I, too, am immensely pleased with our meeting in person," the Emperor said. He understood the human language called "Galactic Basic." But the spiritual precepts forbade him from communicating personally with other beings who were not members of the Xi Char Order. "I hope you won't disappoint me?"
"The Prelate reports that he is ready to proudly demonstrate samples of Xi Char art and assures you that on any planet in the galaxy, nothing like this could simply exist."
The Emperor was not alone. With him, two human females entered the workshops — one quite young, the other in the prime of her life. They were accompanied by several faceless warriors, a pair of clones, and an astromech droid. An overly lavish procession for the ritual of initiation into the art, in the Xi Char's opinion. But the client's wish was always law.
According to the laws of the order, no one, not even the client, could be admitted to the holy of holies — the inner chambers, the place where the works of art were created. For this purpose, ever since its first client, Haor Chall Engineering had always maintained a showroom pavilion where the client could see firsthand what they had paid the Xi Char for.
Their race's structures were fundamentally different from anything humans could create. Corners, bulkheads, long flat walls — all of this was alien to the Xi Char. The harmony of production lay in smooth curves. In the external beauty of internal perfection.
That was precisely why the showroom pavilion took the form of a huge hemisphere, woven from extra-thick transparisteel — a sign of respect for the master's residence. Having first arrived on Zakuul, the Xi Char had been deeply shaken by the beauty of this world. And since imitation was the highest standard of veneration, it was no wonder that, having settled in the Old World, they had created something similar for themselves. Observing the bounds of propriety, so as not to offend the client's sight by completely copying his abode.
Inside, the guests had to wander among massive platforms on which fully operational examples of Xi Char art were displayed. The fruits of the purest Platonic love between ancient schematics and the creative genius of the race itself.
The master insisted that the Xi Char no longer create those works of art they had made for the Confederacy. The Prelate understood him. Using old art for a new client was the greatest insult.
And so, the Emperor and his retinue gazed only upon completely new samples of technology.
The Prelate began his presentation with the smallest.
"The master entrusted the Xi Char," the droid quickly translated the Prelate's chirring, "with two tasks. First — to modernize certain samples of technology from the Sith Empire and the Eternal Empire so that they meet modern requirements. Second — to create qualitatively new technology for the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, which is to be adopted by the army."
"Prelate," the Emperor turned his head toward the leader of Haor Chall Engineering. "I remember perfectly well what tasks I set for you. I am interested in the results."
The insectoid bowed its head in submission.
"We have subjected the Sith Empire's battle droid, model one, to modernization." A squat combat machine on four walking supports, armed with a pair of twin heavy blaster turrets, occupied the first place on the exhibition list. "The updated product has passed testing in real conditions in Darth Malgus's army. We have received no complaints whatsoever."
The droid turned toward the next exhibit.
"BD-148 'Predecessor,' a battle droid of the old Eternal Empire of Zakuul. Like the previous sample, it has undergone an update of its weaponry, electronics, motor units, and armor. Unlike its Sith Empire counterpart, it is armed with only a pair of rapid-firing rocket cannons. Unfortunately, like the Sith battle droid, this product cannot be equipped with energy shields analogous to the CIS Droideka due to a conflict between software and hardware. However, the savings on extremely expensive equipment allows us to increase its mass production."
Next, the Xi Char demonstrated to the assembled crowd the perfected Zakuul Empire shuttle, into which the workers' efforts had breathed new life. Now, such a transport vehicle was used for carrying especially important and influential beings, having acquired the status of an elite ship. The Prelate, though he gave no indication that he was watching how the Emperor had arrived at the walls of his workshops on that very transport, felt pride in his workers.
The next two exhibits were anthropomorphic combat machines. The Emperor turned his attention to them with interest. And understandably so — both battle droids had already been adopted and had proven themselves excellently in battles in Sith Space. But the relatively recently completed creations…
"This is a guardian droid," the droid introduced the novelty, following the Prelate's instructions precisely. "It was used during the conflict between the Republic and Darth Revan's Sith Empire. By now, the original is completely obsolete. But the Xi Char managed to breathe new life into it. It is now an entirely new work of art by the company, intended for patrolling important facilities and maintaining public order. It can be armed with absolutely any small arms. Its armor can withstand hits from light small arms."
"Interesting," one of the females accompanying the Emperor approached the guardian, running her hand over its sealed helmet. "In my time, they were extremely dangerous opponents. But not too agile and rather dim-witted."
The droid, listening to the Prelate's commentary, obediently translated.
"The Xi Char have put considerable effort into its creation. This droid surpasses any known analog in its class. However, its use in full-scale military operations is not recommended — its protection is inferior to that of our next work."
Finally, they approached the fourth sample of Haor Chall's creativity.
A two-meter giant, encased from head to toe in snow-white armor, clutched a blaster rifle in its mechanical fingers, its barrel pointed at the floor.
"The Prelate is proud to present to you an updated version of the assault droid," notes of triumph appeared in the droid's mechanical voice. "Skywalker 2 is a completely reworked model of its predecessor in this line. At present, it is the most advanced droid ever created by Haor Chall Engineering. All of the droid's internal parts are protected by an updated reinforced composite armor. Its intelligence and sensor system allow it to control up to one kilometer of the surrounding space, tracking all hostile targets and establishing a priority of their threat for completing the mission. During development, we planned to give this model maximum resemblance to Stormtrooper Corps soldiers to hinder early identification by the enemy. Capable of operating in any environment. Thanks to its built-in portable reactor, its autonomy is not limited by time — as is the operating life of the assault pack, which uses the same power source."
"With droids like these," one of the clones pronounced, "the very existence of the Stormtrooper Corps becomes unnecessary."
"Don't diminish your own significance, commando," the Emperor quietly countered. "No machine can replace a living human. What is the production cost of such an assault droid?" The last question was addressed to the Prelate. And he answered it honestly.
"Just what I was saying, Balda," the head of the corporation smirked. "For that price, you could build a squad of old 'Skywalkers,' which in modern conditions can no longer compete. Fine, Prelate. Your droids will be adopted by the Empire. After all, there are situations where it's simply foolish to risk the lives of living soldiers."
The insectoid bowed again to his master. The latter, like no other being, saw to the very essence of what was happening.
"I take it the Eternal Empire's walker has also been modernized?" the Emperor inquired, pointing at the next exhibit.
A bipedal machine, elegant in its deadly beauty, towered over all the other company products and was the next exhibit in the presentation.
"The Prelate is impressed by your observation, Emperor," the droid translated. "This is the AT-ST of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul. Like the other samples, the walker has been modernized and improved. It is operated by a crew of two, possesses superior cross-country capability, good protection, and armament. Republic walkers are inferior to it in every parameter — protection, armament, electronics, cross-country capability, and maintainability."
"Well, then, we'll take it," snorted the one for whom this entire event was held. "As I understand it, we are moving on to the technology that Haor Chall Engineering created from scratch?"
"Precisely." The droid, followed by the others, moved to new stands. "The company has taken into account the client's desire to create wheeled and tracked armored vehicles for the army's needs. All equipment has undergone a full testing cycle and is ready for use. The Prelate has the honor of presenting to you a light armored infantry fighting vehicle."
"Oh, wow…" came from under the helmet of that same stormtrooper.
The Prelate, seeing the amazement of the Emperor's retinue, continued to dictate to the translator droid the information about the product he knew by heart. For all Xi Char, the tactical-technical specifications of the equipment they manufactured were not just a set of numbers and characteristics. It was a sacred scripture, which every one of them was obliged to know.
"Light armored infantry fighting vehicle," the droid repeated the name. "A four-wheeled transport vehicle, with protection against small energy weapons, up to medium cannons. Designed to transport a squad of soldiers with full equipment and supplies across rough terrain to their destination. In addition to composite armor, it is equipped with a rapid-firing heavy blaster repeater and six proton mortar systems on the turret. Crew — three persons. Power source — a high-capacity modular capacitor. The Prelate asks the Emperor to do the Xi Char the honor and to bless this equipment, as well as any other works of art by our race that he deems fit for adoption."
"And what is the procedure for blessing?" From the animation in the Emperor's voice, the Prelate concluded that he liked the equipment.
"The Xi Char humbly ask you to give a name to their modest labor," the droid explained.
"Hmm…" The man thought for a moment. Then, looking at the pair of clones, he said decisively: "'Berserker.'"
"The Prelate bows before your wisdom, master, and asks you to proceed to the next product."
"Heavy armored personnel carrier," the droid explained, pointing at an eight-wheeled vehicle, twice the size of the previous one. The gray-blue armor and wheel protection indicated that, compared to the previous product, this one was ready to withstand a far heavier bombardment. "It is a logical development of the 'Berserker' object. Armed with eight long-range proton mortars. It has firing ports for the use of personal small arms by the crew or the transported contingent of soldiers. Equipped with an electronic countermeasure system to create a zone safe from homing guided missiles. Crew — three persons. Two infantry squads can be accommodated in the heavy-armor-protected cabin. Battle droids can also be transported in the rear of the landing compartment. Due to its massiveness, it is inferior in speed to the previous model."
"It will do," the Emperor nodded. "'Praetorian.'"
The droid pointed to the next exhibit.
"The Xi Char know that tracked vehicles have a significant advantage over wheeled ones in certain battlefield conditions. For this purpose, an amphibious assault tank was developed." The Prelate watched closely the reaction of the small human female, who, upon seeing the massive sand-colored combat machine on tracks, with a low turret equipped with a heavy mass-driver cannon and a pair of blaster repeaters, opened her mouth in surprise.
"This tank can transport a squad of soldiers, reliably protecting them with heavy durasteel armor. The tracked chassis makes the vehicle suitable for use in swampy and other difficult terrain. The main caliber is a modified mass-driver weapon with kinetic projectiles of various effects — armor-piercing, fragmentation, high-explosive…"
"I think 'Fellblade' is the most suitable name for this tank."
"As you wish," the Prelate received the master's reaction with enthusiasm. Indeed, this tank could punish any opponent for their sins.
"While in the service of the Confederacy, the Xi Char had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with the concept of the Republic's repulsor tank and found it insufficiently effective." The Prelate gestured for the humans to follow him to the massive combat machine standing on the adjacent podium.
"Haor Chall Engineering has produced two models of a main battle tank," the Prelate explained through the translator droid's vocabulary. "The first tank," he pointed to the machine on tracks, gleaming under the artificial light, with a smooth turret and three cannons, "is armed with one medium-caliber mass-driver cannon and two light blaster cannons. Ammunition — thirty rounds for each. For protection against enemy missiles, the vehicle is equipped with two quadruple anti-missile launchers — with a threefold ammunition load. The tank is in the medium category, possesses high cross-country capability and high speed, allowing it not only to support the advance of its own units but also to be used for pursuing retreating enemy forces. Crew — six persons."
"Tell me about the second tank," the Emperor demanded.
"This product of the Xi Char belongs to the heavy tank category." The Prelate pointed his claw toward the black behemoth with a twin-barreled turret. "Armed with two high-precision, long-range plasma cannons. It has two independent tracked transmissions — steering and drive. Protection — deflector. The hull is made of a material that disperses scanning radiation, resulting in the tank having low detectability, but due to its low speed, it is extremely vulnerable to artillery and air strikes. To counter infantry and enemy light forces, it is equipped with four rapid-firing repeaters — two in the bow and the same number at the stern. Crew — nine persons, of which one is the tank commander, four are repeater gunners, two are main caliber gunners, and two are mechanic-drivers. It is also equipped with launchers for deploying proton mines or anti-missiles."
"This is simply… a machine of death," the small female whispered loudly. "Teacher, such technology…"
"…is what the Empire needs," the master cut her off sharply. "Prelate, I am impressed. You have created a beautiful alternative to the Republic's line of TX-130 and RX-200 'Saber' tanks. Both tanks will be adopted. The three-gun model under the name 'Eviscerator,' the one with plasma armament — 'Doomsday.'"
The Emperor wagged his finger at his small subordinate. She, bristling, threw an angry glance at the Prelate. What exactly didn't she like? Wasn't this technology a perfect weapon of destruction?
"Haor Chall Engineering knows about the Confederacy's fondness for using the fighters and bombers they created to strike ground targets," the Prelate continued. "For this purpose, the Xi Char have prepared several variants of anti-aircraft defensive models."
"The first object." The leader of the Xi Char order pointed to a snow-white tracked vehicle resembling a turret tank. Except that instead of a cannon in the central part of the turret, there were four long-barreled kinetic cannons. "Armed with four rapid-firing mass-driver cannons, capable of engaging targets at distances of several tens of kilometers. The sensor equipment," at his demand, the droid pointed to the scanning "dish" at the rear of the radar, "allows the four-man crew to control a territory within a radius of one hundred kilometers around the product. To repel missile attacks, the anti-aircraft complex has anti-missile launchers. To engage any potential ground threat, the complex is equipped with a dozen strike missiles, secured in containers of six each on the side parts of the turret."
Seeing no reaction from the Emperor, the Prelate continued.
"The second object is a missile anti-aircraft-assault complex." The Xi Char pointed to the sand-colored exhibit. "For greater mobility in the event of damage to the running gear, we developed a concept in which this complex has four tracked drives and is able to move when half of them are out of action. The modular configuration system allows for the installation of clusters of both strike and anti-aircraft missiles on the product. The complex is equipped with the same detection system as the previous one. For protection — it is equipped with two automatic blaster repeaters."
"Hmm…" the Emperor said meaningfully, heading to the next exhibit. "And what is this?"
"The corporation has done work to create a universal product based on the tracked tank," the Prelate related. "We have created an object on whose turret both heavy and anti-personnel, as well as anti-aircraft weaponry are mounted."
The pair of clones, looking at the last sample, exchanged glances.
"It's like a nuna mated with a rancor," the talkative clone voiced his opinion. "Master, may I ask the Prelate a question?"
"Go ahead, Balda." The man, judging by everything, was not impressed by the line of anti-aircraft weaponry. The Prelate felt sorrow. It had never happened before that a client remained dissatisfied.
"Prelate," while the rest of the master's retinue continued their journey along the exhibition exhibits, the clone stormtroopers attracted the insectoid's attention. "Are your anti-aircraft complexes capable of countering not only CIS aviation but also the Republic's?"
"Of course," the Xi Char said as if it were self-evident. "Thanks to high mobility and the most modern tracking systems, our installations can not only track and destroy known types of equipment but also counter unknown ones."
"The CIS has repeatedly struck moving Republic units," the previously silent stormtrooper recalled. "As well as civilian infrastructure. Wouldn't it be better to develop stationary defense systems rather than using mobile ones?"
"The Prelate sincerely does not understand your question," the droid translated. "Don't stationary anti-aircraft installations require transport for their relocation? So why create an immobile complex when it's possible to manufacture equipment that will get to its base independently?"
The question seemed to stump the stormtroopers.
"Ahem," the first stormtrooper tried to say something but never voiced his words. The pair circled around the three objects for a while longer, then joined the retinue that had moved away, explaining something to the master.
"Have we truly let the client down?" the Xi Char worried. Such a disgrace was unknown to Haor Chall Engineering.
The Lord demanded they develop the entire range of military equipment for the Empire's army. So it turned out that somewhere his engineers couldn't realize the desire in metal? The Prelate felt his limbs tremble. Failure to fulfill an order was sacrilege for the Xi Char. And according to sacred laws, it must be punished by death for all craftsmen responsible for carrying out the order. Including himself — he would have to end his life with a ritual suicide, as the main culprit of violating the sacred contract. After all, it was he who failed to correctly understand the client.
"Prelate," the voice of a droid pulled him from his thoughts. "The Master asks us to tell him about the artillery part of the exposition."
The insectoid joined the client in a troubled state. With a dull gaze, he looked at the master, who was conversing with his stormtroopers. He didn't intend to interrupt their conversation. But he also couldn't start the presentation — the tradition of the Xi Char did not allow sharing information about an order without the client's personal participation.
Finally, after a couple of minutes of negotiations, the Emperor made a gesture for the stormtroopers to stop arguing and approached the Prelate.
"My friend," he placed his heavy palm on the chitinous carapace of the order's leader. "You must forgive me my skepticism regarding the previous three models. I'm not entirely ignorant of the art of warfare, but still, I couldn't fully appreciate the potential of your creations. I assure you, my doubts are dispelled. All three models should be introduced into our army. I name them 'Shilka,' 'Shkval,' and 'Smerch,' in the order you demonstrated them to us."
The Prelate felt waves of approval emanating from the master. Of course, naming the equipment allowed him and his workers to continue their sacred service to the gods of engineering. But it also left a bitter aftertaste — the master had shown that they must work harder, so that their creations would never again cause misunderstanding of their advantages before the client.
"I would be glad if you told me about the remaining samples of equipment," the Emperor said peaceably.
"The Prelate conveys his gratitude and thanks you for the trust placed in him," the droid translated his chittering. After listening to the Xi Char's words, it continued the presentation.
"Haor Chall Engineering considers it necessary to give heavy artillery the ability to move independently," the mechanism explained. "Mobility in our time is the key to preserving equipment from enemy retaliatory strikes. Moreover, unlike the artillery of the Confederacy and the Republic, the Xi Char believe that the Empire will only benefit from having its heavy artillery represented by self-propelled models."
The Prelate pointed to two imposing structures.
"The first example is a mass driver kinetic artillery installation," he poked a limb toward a tracked vehicle with a turret mounting a massive twin-barreled cannon, carefully covered by an armored rectangular acceleration casing. "It strikes any surface target within a radius of up to fifty kilometers. Uses various types of medium-caliber ammunition."
"The second vehicle," the Xi Char positioned himself near a six-wheeled armored behemoth with a semi-turret mount at the rear. A single massive barrel indicated that this weapon, in principle, left no chance of survival for anyone or anything in the kill zone. "This is a proton ultra-long-range ultra-heavy universal weapon, capable of destroying targets at distances from fifty to two thousand kilometers. The vehicle's special suspension allows the weapon to operate without any serious recoil system, so it doesn't require a carriage or shock absorption, as is customary on the walking artillery platforms of the Confederacy and the Republic. Thanks to our developments, the proton ammunition for powering this installation has doubled in size compared to the standard used in the Republic and the CIS."
"What do you mean by 'universal'?" asked the long-haired human female.
"This complex can fire at both ground targets and large space targets, from corvette size and larger."
"I'm almost afraid to imagine what would happen if such a behemoth fired at a Separatist factory," came a chuckle from one of the stormtroopers. The Prelate, squinting, decided to clarify.
"In the event of such ammunition hitting a ground target, the shockwave would destroy everything within a radius of a hundred meters from the point of the shell's detonation. The shell's penetrating power would destroy any underground structures the enemy soldiers might build. To be more illustrative — half a dozen such shells would be enough for the complete destruction of a Geonosian hive. We've developed for this complex a precision guidance system unparalleled in the galaxy, thanks to which not a single shell will miss its target."
The insectoid chittered proudly. What a pity the droid couldn't convey all his emotions.
"You know, Prelate," the Emperor said. "I appreciate that you leave no chance to the Empire's enemy. And moreover, the design of the last vehicle is simply breathtaking. You've outdone yourselves. I am truly in awe of these artillery systems. Perhaps," the man thought for a moment. "The first self-propelled artillery mount will be named 'Hyacinth.' And the second... definitely MSTA."
"MSTA?" a taciturn stormtrooper asked again.
"Mind-bogglingly Super-Trans-Arma-geddon," the Emperor said. "Recalling stories of how the CIS proton artillery destroyed defenseless Republic transports during the landing on Ryloth, I think that when encountering enemy landing vessels, the MSTA crew could say, 'Smite you, you pathetic landing force.'"
Seeing the uncomprehending looks from the members of his retinue, the master sighed heavily, then added:
"Let it be — Mobile Super-Heavy Artillery."
The Prelate, taking the Emperor's words as praise, chittered, adding further explanations.
"According to the calculations of Haor Chall Engineering's engineers, the MSTA will be able to penetrate the armor of Republic and CIS ships, detonating inside. In half of the design calculations, this leads to multiple internal explosions and the destruction of the target. Our engineers believe that one or two hits will be sufficient for this."
"I hope you're not talking about the kind of hit where the shell enters the nose of a Venator and exits through the nozzles?" the Emperor tensed.
"No. But the Xi Char are working on it," the Prelate assured the master.
"For Allah's sake — don't," the man suddenly protested. "Penetrating a metal product lengthwise is a legend about a superweapon from another universe."
"The Prelate asks the master to proceed to the last samples," the translator droid declaimed.
"So," he stopped opposite a massive armored wheeled carrier. "This is a multiple rocket launcher system?"
The Prelate smiled contentedly, baring predatory teeth.
"This complex, based on an eight-wheeled armored all-terrain vehicle, has a replaceable module for launching attack missiles," the droid explained. "Two cassette magazines with twenty munitions each. Firing range — from five to one hundred kilometers. The Prelate inquires about the master's opinion."
"Absolutely — yes," the man shrugged. "I name this work of Xi Char art 'Grad.'"
"And the last," the droid pointed to a pair of huge wheeled transports. Despite their imposing appearance, both, aside from medium armor, had no weapons. "These objects are created for engineering troops. Laying crossings, clearing debris, building surface fortifications..."
"If the Grand Army had such machinery," the talkative stormtrooper grumbled, "we wouldn't have to spend days on end building fortifications."
"Agreed," the Emperor agreed surprisingly quickly. "Let them be..."
The man suddenly fell silent, freezing in place. The Prelate looked at the master's retinue in bewilderment, but after literally one blink of the eyes, the man returned to life.
"'Beaver,'" he pointed to the product that looked like a humpbacked beetle, "and 'Scorpion,'" a wave of his hand toward the eight-wheeled transport with a construction crane on top.
"The Prelate expresses his utmost joy," the translator droid reported. "And asks the master's permission to begin serial production of these creations."
"In turn, Prelate," the man addressed the insectoid, "I express my gratitude to you for your selfless labor for the benefit of the Empire. And — yes, I look forward to the earliest serial production of this equipment."
Turning to his retinue, the Emperor said:
"Alpha, Balda," both stormtroopers snapped to attention before the master. "Go to Incom and tell Dalig that I want a squadron of X-wings. And you, my little friend, bucket of bolts," he looked at the astromech droid, "choose the best starfighter for me."
For the first time in all this time, the product of Industrial Automatons gave voice, bursting into a whistling trill.
"Oli, Celeste," the Emperor looked at both females. "It's time for us to go to the Throne Hall. The guards have delivered our latest 'guests.' I still have some things to do."
* * *
Staring into the faces of the unknown soldiers escorting him and the other prisoners, Darth Maul felt poorly concealed rage.
Eleven long years he had spent on a garbage planet, having sunk to the very bottom of the galaxy after his defeat at the hands of a scruffy-looking Padawan. His mind had been in oblivion, but now everything was clear. The Zabrak vaguely remembered how his mind had been restored. But he clearly felt that it was the Dark Side that had helped restore his consciousness. It couldn't be otherwise.
Maul thought with longing that surely his master had saved him. Darth Sidious couldn't abandon his apprentice. After all, together they needed to carry out the Plan.
What was happening confused him. Yes, he was grateful to the master for restoring his ability to walk, supplementing his body with cybernetic structures below the waist. However, that didn't explain why he was in shock binders. Nor did it explain the four other prisoners following him down the spacious corridor. And who were those three faceless warriors escorting them? Who did they serve? Why did the Force feel so strange in them... As if the Dark Side were diluted with the Light...
He didn't recognize the interior. He had been many places in the galaxy, but all this opulence...
"Walk straight," the helmet-muffled voice couldn't hide from him the identity of the one who unceremoniously pushed him in the back.
Max, Adkar, and Logan — the three guards who had been watching the prisoners now being escorted in an unknown direction. They were taciturn, only giving their names. Questions and attempts to engage them in conversation were ignored; the guards continued to silently guard the casemates.
Until this evening, when the trio, having put shock binders on each prisoner, escorted them through internal passages to the turbolift cabin.
The light, the only source of knowledge about the change of day cycles, penetrated the Zabrak's cell through a narrow slit under the very ceiling. But unfortunately, he couldn't see anything through it — the entire view was blocked by a massive wall surrounding the place where he was.
Maul himself didn't notice how their procession stopped before huge doors, where a short, white-haired human girl with a haunted look was already waiting for them. As if on command, the doors slid open, and the silent trio of escorts ordered them all to enter.
The Zabrak gazed with hidden admiration as a huge spherical chamber opened before his eyes, through whose transparent walls millions of stars in the blackness of space could be seen.
The escorts led them along a wide gangway leading to a central platform, where on an expertly crafted dais stood a throne the likes of which he had never seen before.
And on it sat a man in luxurious black robes, over which decorative snow-white armor pieces were fastened. However, drawing closer, Maul realized the armor was real. But the man sitting before him was clearly a stranger.
The Zabrak and the four following him passed four pairs of guardsmen, the spitting image of those who had accompanied them to this place. And, strangely, the moment they left the guards behind, they silently turned and left through the open doors.
The Sith Lord felt that he had fallen into some kind of clever game. Something was happening here, but he couldn't understand what. But he didn't doubt that it would soon become clear.
As soon as he and the other prisoners stood at the foot of the throne, the Zabrak noticed with surprise that on the very first step leading to the top, lightsaber hilts were laid out. Two pikes, two identical single-handed blades, and three different hilts. It seemed they were intended for them.
Looking up, the Zabrak belatedly noted two more present. A teenage human girl, clad in shiny armor with a characteristic Jedi cloak over it, and a tall black-haired woman with a long braid. They stood on either side of the throne, slightly hidden in its shadow. And both had lightsabers hanging from their belts.
A Jedi trap? Hardly. Otherwise, how to explain that among the five prisoners, one was clearly an adept of the Light Side. At least — he had been. Echoes of the Dark Side were clearly felt in him. Not as pronounced as in Maul himself or the other three prisoners, but sufficient to state that this man was hardly an active member of the Order. And then there was that pale-haired girl standing behind the prisoners...
"You've arrived," the man sitting on the throne rose, taking a couple of steps forward so that everyone could see him. "Excellent. I hope you've all gathered your strength, because each of you has a trial ahead."
"Who are you?" the bald woman standing next to the Zabrak hissed defiantly.
"What game are you playing?" growled the second Zabrak in their company. Though he was larger than Maul and his potential in the Force commanded respect, he was clearly not properly trained.
"Shut up and listen," the stranger applied considerable Force to make all the prisoners fall to their knees before him. "Each of you deserved death at your last encounter with me or my servants. But I'm giving you a chance. The last chance to change your destiny forever. To stop serving the base ideals of your masters and to join me instead."
"This... can't be..." Maul heard the whisper of the blue-skinned alien standing farthest to the left of the Zabrak and the bald woman. "It can't be him."
"Who are you talking about, you red-eyed fool?" the bald woman hissed.
"Don't you feel it?" she sobbed. "He's become even stronger since our encounter. But I recognize him. It's Dougan!"
"Impossible," exclaimed the bald woman. And at that same moment, Maul regretted not having shut them both up. The entire group of five was pierced by blue-violet lightning. The Zabrak recalled with horror how his master had disciplined him the same way.
"Silence," the man said in a quiet, but no less terrifying voice. Simultaneously, the pain vanished, along with the flashes of Force Lightning.
"You're right, Sev'rance," he continued in the same colorless voice. "I am Rick Dougan. Jedi Master. And at the same time — the Immortal Emperor of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul."
"Jedi filth," the bald woman wheezed. "I'll gut you..."
"Believe me, you, like everyone present here," he swept his hand over all six standing before him, "will have a chance. You can leave this Throne Hall alive in only two cases — either by swearing allegiance to me and becoming loyal subjects of the Eternal Empire, or — if you can kill me and my servants," with a careless gesture he indicated the pair standing behind him.
"Why should we serve you?" asked the hitherto silent man with hair braided into dreadlocks. He was the one Maul had suspected of belonging to the Order.
"Because only I see the future of this galaxy," at these words the Zabrak became alert. "This war is merely a manipulation by the Sith to destroy the Jedi Order," the man pointed at him. "Darth Maul won't lie. He too once served that Plan. However, such things happen regularly in the galaxy's history. And I believe that this — the confrontation between Sith and Jedi — needs to end. I and my followers believe that Force adepts should return to the fundamentals. To understand that the Force is One. That both sides should be used, maintaining Balance within oneself. And to stop the bloodshed, bringing peace and order to the galaxy."
"Under your leadership, no doubt?" the bald woman snapped.
"Exactly so, Asajj," Dougan said coldly. "Unlike those you served before, I don't lie to you. Unlike Darth Sidious, I don't use you, Maul, to achieve my goals and discard you the moment you stumble. Unlike Sidious's servant, Dooku, I don't use you, Ventress, nor you, Tann, promising power you'll never attain. Don't try to contradict me, Opress — in the Count's eyes, you're merely an animal, a replacement for Ventress, a trigger for the Jedi to pin their attention where needed. You're smirking, Vos? In vain. Of all those present, you alone could confirm the truth of my words," at this Dougan extended his hand forward. "Don't you wish to use your unique gift?"
With these last words, the man's binders fell to the floor with a hollow clang. Vos rose to his feet, rubbing his stiff wrists. Looking over the other prisoners, he slowly ascended the steps.
"Behold, Quinlan Vos, what horror awaits the galaxy if I allow the future I speak of to come to pass," with these words Dougan unceremoniously grabbed the exhausted man by the shoulder.
At first, Maul didn't notice any change. After a couple of seconds, he noticed a shadow pass over Vos's face. Then the man's expression became one of great sorrow, pain. After a minute, Quinlan was already kneeling before Dougan, gritting his teeth. His body was tense, as if an electric charge were passing through him. Soon the man began to convulse, after which, finally, Dougan released him, and the long-haired man fell backward with a cry. Maul watched with interest as a grown man, a Force adept, trembled like an infant at the sight of a new world.
"What did you see?" demanded the second Zabrak. But Quinlan just whimpered, curled into a fetal position. Several minutes passed before he could calm down and utter anything coherent. Still, his speech was impossible to make out from that distance.
"Wimp," Ventress spat contemptuously. "And this is a Jedi Master? Pathetic! All of you should have been wiped out..."
"And the Jedi will be wiped out," Dougan said calmly. "As dozens of times before — almost all of them. The rest will be so disillusioned with the Order's teachings that they'll hide in the farthest corners of the galaxy, leaving the Sith to rule."
"Then so be it," Ventress snarled. "The Sith will triumph!"
"Only you won't live to see it," Dougan snorted. "Nor will any of you. Sidious will capture Maul, after which Obi-Wan Kenobi will finish what he started on Naboo. You, Asajj, like hunted game, will hide in the backwaters for the rest of your days. Ironically, the Jedi killer will share the fate of the surviving Jedi. Tann," the man looked at the blue-skinned alien woman, who continued to sit on the floor with a dejected expression. "Your path is even sadder. Had I not arranged for everyone to believe you dead, the Jedi would have found you. And your life would have ended six months ago. Sariss," the man looked at the girl standing behind the prisoners. She, apparently, held certain privileges, as she wasn't in chains. "For years, the Prophets of the Dark Side tormented you, pretending to teach you. I give you a chance to take revenge on them, to gain true power and take your rightful place."
"And what about me, Jedi?" growled the second Zabrak. For a second, Maul felt his face seemed familiar. And the illusion immediately vanished.
"Opress... You won't live very long. Before Sidious captures Maul, you will fall. And you will never rise again."
"Why should we believe you, Emperor?" Maul heard a child's voice behind him.
"Because I'm extending a helping hand to you, whereas any of your masters would have long since forced you to become one with the Force," Dougan smirked. He waved his hand, and Maul noticed the binders fall from each of the prisoners. "Each of you is special in your own way. Tann, Ventress, Maul, Opress, Vos, Sariss. The Empire of Zakuul needs talented individuals. Serve me, or face your destiny."
With these words, the Emperor turned his back to them, intending to take his place on the throne.
"I will never bow my head again!" Opress roared defiantly. Obeying a mental call, one of the light pikes appeared in his hands. An instant — and the air filled with a characteristic sound. A pair of crimson blades stirred Maul's memories.
"You've made your choice, Savage Opress. So be it," Darth Maul heard notes of amusement in the Emperor's voice.
And then the yellow-and-black Zabrak leaped.
* * *
Celeste was a first-class fencer; in the old Jedi Order, even instructors avoided crossing blades with her. When the energy of the Light Side flowed through her, the blade was more than a weapon. The sword became an extension of her will.
The Zabrak Savage Opress was a master of the light pike, but he was no match for the Emperor. What a pity the foolish savage didn't know that.
A torrent of Force Lightning caught him at the highest point of his leap. The horned one shrieked as the electric charges consumed his body. The cry turned into an agonizing howl, after which Dougan, with a simple gesture, hurled the unconscious body away from him. It slammed with a dull thud into the gangway far from the throne.
The Jedi Master hoped this lesson would be enough, but instead, two opponents charged the Emperor at once — the bald woman named Ventress and the second Zabrak.
Morrn felt the Padawan barely restraining herself from joining the fight. However, Dougan had given clear orders. So Celeste signaled the girl not to interfere.
As if by magic, lightsaber hilts appeared from the spacious sleeves of the Emperor's robes. In addition to the red blades, a pair of yellow ones cut through the air.
The opponents attacked in an uncoordinated manner. Each acted independently, aiming to kill the Emperor. What idiotic thought drove them at that moment? Celeste could only shake her head, seeing the former Jedi Quinlan Vos lying on the floor, staring into the void with glassy eyes. Perhaps he was the only one of the six who had come for the trial in the Throne Hall who was currently safe.
Something else was curious. Neither the Chiss girl nor the young Sith apprentice had even tried to seize a weapon. Instead, they watched the proceedings with interest.
Celeste smirked. A typical Dark Side tactic — wait until the victor emerges. And join him. Simple, devious, and so Sith-like.
Meanwhile, the battle was only intensifying. One of the Emperor's blades found a gap in the Zabrak's defense. Celeste couldn't help but admire the Emperor's play — instead of killing the attacker, the man simply cut off one of his head horns. Then, pushing Ventress away from him with the Force, he delivered a powerful kick to the Zabrak's chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs.
The Emperor briefly followed his path to the base. That was dangerous: for a second, he was vulnerable. And the Jedi killer didn't hesitate to exploit the sudden advantage.
With a wild cry, holding both blades to her right, she charged. Honestly, it wasn't even funny.
Celeste almost immediately realized that the Emperor was merely playing with his victims. He was definitely playing a role in this performance. But who was his audience? The woman began to suspect that the spectacle was staged for everyone present. Though each had different goals.
Ventress, meeting unexpectedly strong resistance, broke the distance, then attacked again, intensifying the pressure with her fantastic flexibility and agility. She was literally bathing in the Dark Side, swirling it around herself like a small tornado. She wondered what her inner motivation was based on. What emotions did she turn into fuel for her attacks?
Meanwhile, the Emperor, gripping a golden blade in each hand, delivered two ferocious strikes, which the acolyte tried to block. But it didn't escape the former Shadow Jedi's notice how the girl howled in pain as the kinetic energy of her opponent's strikes nearly snapped her wrists.
While Asajj recovered, the Emperor switched to the Zabrak who had climbed back up the steps. Through the prism of the Force, Celeste saw the Zabrak summoning all the Dark Side power he was capable of. A foolish little boy...
One look at the Emperor's aura was enough to understand that neither six nor twenty opponents could stop him. Like a vast sun, he was literally immersed in the Force, growing stronger and faster than his opponent with each passing second. In mere moments, the Emperor lifted the red-skinned one into the air, slamming him forcefully into the floor. Then again. And again...
The Shadow noticed the Zabrak's face was already a bloody mess, but the Emperor continued wiping the floor of the entire Throne Hall with him. Blood smears were literally on every step, yet the Zabrak, futilely trying to break free, kept sliding face-first across the shiny furnishings.
Finally when Ventress returned to the fight, the Emperor deigned to stop his mockery of the alien, hurling him toward the sealed doors of the Throne Hall. It was amusing that everyone still conscious observed his swift flight with interest.
Ventress handled a series of four strikes — Morne recognized the characteristic combinations of Makashi. Crude, but effective.
However, instead of continuing the efficient combo, the bald woman clumsily broke it off. It took Celeste a second to realize what had happened. The acolyte hadn't simply interrupted the sequence. She didn't know the rest of it! While a series of quick strikes to the enemy's sides was meant to disorient him and end with an elegant thrust to the chest, the Emperor's opponent had voluntarily decided to switch to an attack on the legs. Which, to be honest, led to Dougan pushing off the floor and executing a full backflip, planting both feet into the face of the careless Ventress.
A fatal mistake.
Wounded, her face bleeding, she lost concentration, leaving her right side open, and the Emperor's blade sank deep into her thigh. Asajj screamed, dropped her weapon, and fell. But the Emperor wasn't about to end his lesson so quickly. He closed in on her with lightning speed, his whole demeanor showing a desire to open the kill count.
At Dougan's feet, Asajj tried to grope for her weapon. The pain made her panic, her movements clumsy, giving the Emperor a chance to savor her torment. Celeste could almost see how the man, like a miniature black hole, absorbed all the horror of what was happening. And when the woman's fingers closed around the hilt of one blade, he brought his boot down on her arm, breaking the bones.
The Emperor looked into the woman's eyes one last time, relishing her terror, then finished the beating.
Ignoring the fallen enemy's pathetic attempts to defend herself, he yanked her toward him with the Force. And as soon as she was close enough, he delivered an upward knee strike to her face, sending her tumbling toward the blue-skinned Chiss.
"Master!" Oli shouted. Turning, the Emperor saw the former Jedi Quinlan Vos getting to his feet. An instant later, a crimson blade flared in his hand.
* * *
While Dougan fought Ventress and the Zabrak, Vos had enough time to recover.
What he had seen… the destruction of the Order, the reign of the Sith, the terror, the annihilation of planets, the endless wars… It shook him to his core. That monster in human form had made him relive every death he knew of. And, lying on the cold floor, the Kiffar asked himself only one question.
How did Dougan know all this? The future is always in motion, Yoda used to say. So why did this monster know events a hundred and fifty years ahead? No one in galactic history had ever possessed such a gift of foresight.
It took him about ten minutes to understand.
Dougan was the cause of that future. He would lead the galaxy into those bloodbaths.
And it was his duty — the duty of a Jedi, which he still was, despite Dooku's temptations and the Dark Side's promises — to destroy evil!
That was why Vos rushed at the Emperor.
He stood motionless, focusing his considerable power. At the very last moment, the Emperor unleashed a wave of energy at the former Jedi that knocked him off his feet and hurled him backward.
The Kiffar twisted in midair, rolling as he landed. He quickly sprang to his feet and advanced again, this time much slower.
The Emperor stood in the same pose as before, as if he hadn't moved at all. He had deactivated his lightsabers, folding his arms across his chest. Quinlan looked at that young, arrogant face, clearly despising everyone around, and felt the anger growing inside him. Having touched the Dark Side, he could no longer reject it.
And now it gave him the strength to continue the fight.
Quinlan began to feel the dark energy pressing down on him: the Emperor was trying to break his will and enslave his mind. But rage helped him keep his mind locked away.
Instead of charging into attack, he opened himself to the Force: the dark side and the light side flooded into him like two furious streams. But he didn't even think about focusing the energy — instead, the Jedi released the Force in its purest form.
A bright flash illuminated the air between the two opponents. The force of the blast was so great that Quinlan involuntarily flew back several meters, slamming his head into something soft. The Emperor, meanwhile, standing before his magnificent throne, laughed.
"Really, Vos, you surprised me. The Unifying Force in its pure form, without any control… You nearly killed everyone here." Dougan spread his arms, pointing to the edge of the central platform, where the blue-skinned alien and the white-haired girl were hanging on, barely holding on. Strangely, those standing behind the Emperor hadn't even flinched.
Vos heard a quiet groan. Turning, he saw that he had landed on an unconscious Zabrak — the one who had been hit at the very start of the carnage. He was unconscious but alive.
But that wasn't the main thing.
With confident steps, Darth Maul approached him. The Zabrak's eyes burned with molten gold. His gaze was fixed on the Emperor, his face covered in blood.
"We'll do this together," Quinlan said, grabbing the Zabrak's arm to get his attention. "We'll work as a team."
The Zabrak didn't seem to hear him at all. But after a few moments, he nodded in agreement.
And now, together, they slowly approached the throne, waiting for an attack from the monster in human form.
The Emperor, still smiling, raised his hands above his head, and the air between his palms seemed to thicken.
Quinlan realized: his opponent was gathering power to unleash a hurricane of dark energy on him. The Jedi quickly weighed his chances. He wouldn't make it to the Emperor in time to stop the attack in its infancy, so he tried to clear his mind, clench his own power into a fist, to absorb the energy of the strike.
A very risky move, considering the Emperor's power had virtually no limits.
At least, for Quinlan Vos.
Twisting purple lightning bolts shot toward him. The Kiffar realized too late that the Zabrak probably didn't even understand what was happening. Darth Maul was a duelist, but not skilled at resisting the Dark Side.
Quinlan lunged forward, intercepting the Emperor's lightning.
His only chance was to draw the monster's attention to himself and let Maul deliver the killing blow.
The electricity burned through Vos, and the former Jedi's whole body convulsed. His skin blistered, the flesh on his face melting and streaming down in hot rivulets. But the Emperor didn't think of stopping.
Through a haze of indescribable pain, Vos made out Maul's silhouette, dodging the infernal attack and slowly approaching the enemy. Dougan seemed not to notice the killer. Quinlan, feeling his strength fading, fell to his knees. His gaze drifted to where Ventress, Tann, and Sariss had been. None of them were on the platform. But Vos could no longer think about their fate. The pain consumed him completely.
He collapsed to the floor, burned but alive. The hilt of his deactivated blade rolled away, out of reach. He didn't have the strength to crawl to it. And no strength to call the weapon to his weakened hand.
Too weak to move, Quinlan still forced himself to lift his head and saw the Emperor turning toward the brave Zabrak. A tremor ran through the air — the Emperor unleashed his full power on the former Sith Lord. The Zabrak, like a rag doll, was pressed into the Throne Hall floor, screaming in pain. Quinlan felt the Emperor slowly breaking the bones in his opponent's body.
He tried to stand, but his wounded body refused to obey. He instinctively called on the Force, trying to heal his wounds. Or at least dull the pain.
Finally, Maul's screams stopped. Quinlan looked at him and, with great sorrow, noticed that he showed no signs of life.
The Emperor approached the Kiffar slowly, deliberately. With a wave of his fingers, he cast the Jedi's weapon down. Only after a few seconds did a faint sound of its fall reach Vos's burned ears.
Meanwhile, he heard the sound of an activated lightsaber. Lying on the icy floor, he saw a golden light appear before his face. Feeling helpless, he could only watch as the Emperor prepared to deliver the killing blow.
* * *
Consciousness returned with a jolt. Savage, feeling unbearable pain throughout his body, opened his eyes and stared at the starry sky above. Sounds of battle reached him, but he was in no hurry to join, preferring to stealthily assess the situation. For the first time in his life, he didn't want to rush headlong into a fight.
The events in the Throne Hall weren't encouraging. The Emperor's dark lightning burned the former Jedi, his body convulsing. He saw three women collapse to the floor as soon as the air filled with Force Lightning unlike anything the Zabrak had seen even from Count Dooku, whom he had always considered the greatest adept of the Dark Side.
Then Darth Maul, in a clumsy attempt to kill Dougan, met his fate, smashed against the floor.
And after that, the Emperor's figure approached the helpless Jedi, activating his weapon.
It all took mere seconds. Savage got to his feet, but he was too far to stop the Emperor from impaling the Jedi sprawled at his feet. He felt no friendly feelings toward the man. But he realized almost immediately that the only thing that could stop the Emperor was working together. Nothing else.
In desperation, he hurled his sword in a shallow arc, guiding it with the Force. Spinning through the air, his blade intercepted the descending golden blade and deflected it aside, buying precious moments.
Savage called the weapon back to his hand. Pain washed over him, but, as Dooku had taught him, he channeled it inward, turning it into endless rage, which in turn gave him strength.
The Emperor, whose blade had cut a furrow away from the wounded Jedi's body, seemed confused. He looked at Savage running toward him with a bewildered expression, as if seeing him for the first time. And the Zabrak used that confusion to close the distance between them.
Feeling the Emperor's doubt and uncertainty as he tried to assess the strength and weakness of this new old enemy, Savage let out a triumphant roar and began spinning his weapon, ready to engage the fiend from the Void.
"I expected less from you, Savage," the Emperor said as their blades finally clashed.
The Zabrak thought his opponent was probably stalling for time, waiting for his guards to break through the sealed door. But he didn't see much sense in that: by the time they burst into the Throne Hall, the battle's outcome would already be decided — one way or another. And why had they left the Throne Hall in the first place? Or perhaps the Emperor wasn't waiting for help from the guards, but from those two humans standing like statues beside his throne?
"You underestimated my power, Jedi," Savage declared. "I am the true incarnation of the Dark Side."
"We'll see about that," the Emperor replied with a smile.
* * *
For Quinlan, the universe suddenly froze, as if time itself had ceased to exist. He realized he was on the final stretch of his fate — the next few moments would determine how he ended his earthly path.
Suddenly, when Savage rushed past him like a whirlwind, Quinlan felt as if an oceanic wave had caught him. It swept over his head, plunging him deeper and deeper into the Force. With no chance to surface and breathe the air of reality.
Images of the future flashed before his eyes. For the second time since he'd been in the Throne Hall. Again and again, the same horrors that had nearly driven him mad.
But this time, there was something else.
Or rather, someone.
A black figure that, before his eyes, had been eliminating Order masters, committing genocide, and corrupting the minds of entire planets suddenly revealed a face.
And, to his horror, Quinlan realized that the face of this boundless evil was not Dougan's at all.
Palpatine! The Supreme Chancellor — the Dark Lord of the Sith!
He was behind the plan to destroy the Order. He had brought war to the galaxy! He wanted a return to Sith despotism!
He, not Dougan!
As soon as he grasped that thought, another series of events flashed before his eyes… No less grim, bloody, but… it was only a brief period, after which everything ended.
Peace and tranquility arrived. Forever.
And that stability also had a face.
The very same one now playing with the Zabrak like a beast. Dougan, who could vaporize a living being in an instant, was pretending he couldn't defeat a single half-trained fool blinded by his own rage.
Then the Jedi understood what he had to do.
The Force had brought revelation. It gave the answer to the question — why the Emperor had gathered them all there.
Quinlan, as before, called upon the Force. Not just the calm of the Light Side, but the fury of the Dark Side as well. He let those two forces merge into one, channeling that indescribable power through himself.
And he rose to his feet. His eyes, damaged during the battle, had lost some clarity. But he saw his goal clearly. And he took a step toward it.
Coming up beside the Zabrak, the Jedi called into his hand the lightsaber hanging from the Emperor's belt. The Emperor didn't seem to react, watching his second blade end up in someone else's hands while continuing his choreographed fight with the Zabrak.
Excellent. That would make Vos's job easier.
"Come on, Jedi!" Savage shouted nearly in his ear. "Together we can beat him!"
Quinlan took a step back and just shook his head.
He wouldn't understand. Probably none of them would understand what the Jedi had to do.
The Force commanded it.
Who was he to defy it?
Something flickered in his mind, the universe started moving at full speed again — and in that moment, the tip of his sword entered precisely between the shoulder blades of the Zabrak, who was distracted by the fight.
Quinlan couldn't see through Savage's body, but through the Force he knew the trophy weapon had pierced both his hearts. Savage died instantly, never understanding what had killed him.
The Kiffar smelled burnt flesh, irritating his nostrils. Feeling himself losing control of his body, he deactivated the weapon and literally collapsed to his knees, holding it out to its rightful owner while bowing his head in submission.
"Explain yourself," the Emperor ordered. His weapon left Vos's hands and returned to its proper place. But Dougan didn't deactivate his own lit blade.
"I… was wrong…" Quinlan rasped. "You are a monster. But… there are worse."
"How sweet," the Emperor said without a trace of a smile. "Decided to join the lesser evil?"
The Kiffar felt a whirlwind of thoughts in his head.
"You will plunge us into a war… bloodier than this one…" he explained his vision. "But then… peace will come. Eternal peace."
"And you believe that?" the Emperor smirked, deactivating his weapon. Now he stood before the defeated enemy, hands behind his back.
"The Force showed me," the Kiffar breathed. "I… am a Jedi… I… serve… the Force."
"If that's true," the Emperor said, "then you must eliminate the threat to peace."
Quinlan felt as if a stream of the Force had poured into him. It cooled his burning body, calmed his thoughts. And gave him the strength to rise.
He followed the direction of the Emperor's gaze. And almost immediately understood what he had to do.
Pulling Opress's weapon to himself, the former Jedi activated only one blade.
He walked to where Maul had stopped resisting. The Zabrak's body had made a significant dent in the floor, and blood was pooling there from wounds all over his broken frame.
Still, despite having no intact bones in his skeleton, he was alive. Unconscious, without a single whole part of his body, out of his mind. But alive. Though he probably wouldn't last long.
Vos raised the blade to pierce the Zabrak's hearts — lately, he'd gotten damn good at that.
His hands started downward, but just before the blade touched the flesh of Darth Sidious's apprentice, Quinlan felt his body seized by paralysis. He froze, unable to move. And with surprise, he lifted his gaze to the Emperor, who had appeared beside him.
"Lower your blade. You have passed the trial," the Emperor said. "And this scum will still serve me." For a moment, Dougan closed his eyes. Quinlan felt the air around him grow colder. Even the two girls who had stood like statues all this time shivered. But in the next second, he saw the unconscious bodies of the missing trio emerge from behind the platform — Asajj Ventress, Sariss, and Sev'rance Tann. All three were unconscious, but Quinlan could feel that life still flickered within them.
"You will all serve me," a sly grin spread across the Emperor's face.
The Force left Quinlan. He fell to one knee, like a felled tree. Throughout this entire time, he had sworn allegiance twice already. First to the Order, then to Count Dooku. But now it seemed that only today had truly opened his eyes to what was happening.
The Force claimed that Dougan could change the galaxy for the better. If so, then he, Quinlan Vos, after all his hardships and troubles, experiences and betrayals, would open his heart and mind to something new. And would serve the one who could make the galaxy better. Without empty chatter.
"What next… my lord?" he said quietly. Lifting his eyes to the Emperor, he saw a gentle smile on his face. But he was looking somewhere else entirely. Stealing a glance back, he noticed the trio of women stirring, coming to. Looking around, they were clearly stunned by the surrounding devastation. Eventually, they stared at the Emperor. And at Vos, kneeling before him.
With a staggering gait, Sev'rance Tann approached Dougan and, like Vos, dropped to her knees before him. Sariss followed. A little later, the bald Ventress joined. Quinlan saw that each of them looked like a beaten gizka. Broken, sorrowful. Ventress didn't even seem to notice that her face was a complete mess.
Then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached Quinlan's ears. Turning, he saw a girl with a long black braid walking toward them. And behind her, a young Padawan. When both approached, they knelt on one knee, like Vos, their eyes fixed on the floor. Now the Emperor was surrounded by six people.
"You have passed the trial," the Emperor rumbled. "Now you are ready to serve the Empire."
Vos, feeling a slight pang of conscience, risked lifting his eyes to Dougan.
"I hope the reward for the bloody chaos we'll unleash on the galaxy will be worth it…"
The Emperor's face spread into a smile that made Quinlan's blood run cold.
"I promise you, Vos, you will be justly rewarded. Very soon."