Surprises are a double-edged thing.
Because they come in two types — the traditionally bad and the good.
Under the good, I counted the fact that with the inclusion of Jedi into the command structure of the Grand Army of the Republic, besides a command cylinder and rank insignia — those colorful bars that had to be worn on the left side of the chest of a standard-issue tunic — the state had not skimped on giving its generals, like all other officers, a salary.
And a very substantial one at that.
And even though these innovations had happened quite a while ago, I'd only just now gotten around to sorting through that entire mess of information.
The salary account genuinely pleased me. Even if the sum accumulated there was sizeable by the rest of the galaxy's standards — a mere fifty million, compared to the wealth I'd had in the Empire — it was pocket change. Money that could be spent on current expenses. I just needed to figure out what those expenses were. After all, being in the Republic's service, senior officers — which included Jedi — were on full state support. Fed, clothed, treated — all for free. Housing too. You just had to submit the right paperwork to accounting.
However, considering that all this time I'd spent the night either wherever I could, on board military ships, or in the Temple, and recently — in the Citadel specially built for me on Christophsis, I was clearly the last in the Order to find out about this. No wonder the credits had piled up.
It was enough to buy a Venator, for example. They wouldn't sell one to a private citizen, of course. But to a Grand Moff — guaranteed. The only question was — what did I need it for? I was outfitting the System Army's fleet from its budget. Weapons and everything else came from there too. So the question hung in the air — where to put this money? Yeah, quite the puzzle.
Sure, I could literally bathe in credits and spend them left and right. But, I swear on my life — after the Moffs' corruption nest had been uncovered, Intelligence was definitely keeping its finger on the pulse of the renewed GAR command's financial flows. So if I suddenly decided to buy a Star Destroyer and stash it somewhere, that information would land on the right person's desk. And then — they'd drag me by the nose before the Senate to answer for my deeds. But hoarding Republic dataries wasn't smart either. Money should work. I just needed to figure out how. So they wouldn't nail me for it.
No need to get caught on the little things when the stakes were this high.
Diving into directives, protocols, circulars, dispatches, and other bureaucratic sludge, I felt like my head would ache for a long time. Because processing that much information all at once was a special kind of masochism. But there's that word: "must."
Having slogged through a year of war, the GAR had slowly but surely absorbed the experience gained. And it had been implemented in the form of a massive, several-thousand-page folio, which laid out tactical recommendations for all types of units within the army. Getting acquainted with such a behemoth took a huge amount of time and a healthy head. And mine was busy trying not to let the Force blast me to pieces. So, I put the GAR staff's work aside for last — copies of it were available to all commanders of lower rank, and I didn't need to worry about new military doctrines not reaching the soldiers.
However, even briefly, I had skimmed through this manual.
And, I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised.
First and foremost, the army had abandoned tight formations in favor of ranks, small groups, skirmish lines, and so on and so forth. Anything, as long as it reduced losses. A separate section described all known battle droids and CIS equipment, listing the strengths and weaknesses of each, along with tips for effectively destroying the enemy. Useful stuff.
The section on corporate ethics, rules of decorum, etiquette, and other attributes of the "white guard" I closed as soon as I realized where I was. As if I had nothing better to do — groveling before someone. For me, given my position, the only thing that could actually be useful were the areas concerning relationships with subordinates — there were literally three pages there, boiled down to the fact that you couldn't hit a soldier in the face, i.e., maim him, because even if he was a clone, he was an expensive item. It was better to send the defective one back to Kamino, where they'd wipe his memory and raise a racially pure "Aryan." Yeah...
Reading this drivel took an enormous amount of time. So, I got to the "fresh" documents literally a few hours before arriving at Belsavis. Thankfully, no one was bothering me.
And, I must say, this was where the interesting part was.
Getting rid of unwanted Jedi from a subordinate army was a difficult task. Yoda had dug his heels in as much as he could. And if not for my luck in the negotiations with Syndulla — he'd never have agreed to the expulsion of the first batch of degenerates with glowsticks he'd sent earlier.
However, given the ongoing military actions across most of their route to Coruscant, I'd had to agree to sending these "comrades" on an army starship. I had to try really hard to find the oldest, crappiest tub across three oversectors — seriously, was I going to ferry their dumb asses on a Venator?
The Order would send a destroyer to meet them — the deeper into the Mid Rim, the hotter the galaxy's erogenous zones got. No wonder the Grand Master was ready to risk an entire Venator for a bunch of incompetent Jedi and a few pieces of the most incompetent — all that remained of the professional amateurs with command delusions on Exxarg. Good thing not all of them were lost — just three Jedi in the form of a complex puzzle, frozen in carbonite, and two severely wounded. They were joined by a group of idiots whom the soldiers of the 212th would remember for the rest of their lives.
Honestly, of that trio who died in the battles for Exxarg, I only felt sorry for Kento Marek. And not at all because he was an outstanding Jedi. The regret was more prospective. Remembering what a killing machine his son, Galen, known in narrow circles as Darth Vader's secret apprentice, Starkiller, was, one could only lament the lost opportunity to acquire such a henchman. But even that disappointment was superficial. Because I wasn't happy about that kind of "character" appearing. And now I could breathe easy — I wouldn't have to worry about Knight Marek's bad reaction becoming the reason for offspring that would drop Star Destroyers from orbit during their afternoon nap.
I'll explain why.
There was no guarantee that Kento and his beloved would switch to my side when the cards were on the table. Moreover, analyzing Marek's personality, one could even say with some certainty that this individual would have been more against Zakuul's actions than for them. And if that was the case, Starkiller could have become a serious problem. As I recalled, he not only dismantled several powerful Jedi across the galaxy, including Shaak Ti but also gave Vader a thorough thrashing. And he fought Palpatine more than worthily.
Starkiller had been at the origins of the Alliance — if you believed the plot of that odious two-part game. His absence — as a powerful Force adept — might not lead to the creation of the Resistance. Sure, Disney presented a different history of the fight against the Empire in its "canon," but the updated history of the Alliance was no guarantee that its organization, instead of Marek and Kota's son, would be handled by a team consisting of a street-corner magician, an old prostitute — the daughter of the odious Syndulla — a young artist who created weapons of mass destruction in her spare time, a lampshade-headed alien resembling a fattened gremlin, and a bratty kindergarten shitstain.
How... complicated it all was. The idea that the clones had killed the Jedi only because the Chancellor gave such an order was logical in its essence. Clones were soldiers who followed orders.
But the autopsy of their skulls had also shown that the boys had biochips in their brains, which Disney had explained as the "true" reason for blindly following Order 66. So, I'd need to take precautions regarding Kanan Jarvis's team as well. I didn't need potential troublemakers. And I had no doubt that those unhappy with the Eternal Empire's appearance would definitely appear. This was a galaxy far, far away. There was always a gang of life-miserable, exemplary coprophiles here, clamoring for the return of ubiquitous bureaucracy, political impotence, pompous speeches, and total apathy, known to the general public as the "Republic."
Reading the report prepared by the Padawan of the now-deceased Master Fort, I couldn't help but admit that the Togruta, on whose shoulders the entire burden of command had fallen, hadn't lost her nerve and had acted quite skillfully. Sabotage, airstrikes, more sabotage. The file attached to the report — the commander of the "Ion Group" commandos' own report — was impressive with its list of destroyed CIS equipment and key centers. And every single one had become a target following the decision of a young girl.
For whom I'd also had to fight.
The desire to gather under my wing not only talented sentients but also gifted ones hadn't left me for a second. So, I'd spent a long time stubbornly proving to Yoda that the girl should stay with the army. She'd amount to something if someone took her in hand. Reluctantly, the Grand Master had agreed. And my "Padawan pack" had grown.
So, back to our muttons — that is, the Jedi who'd been foisted off from the army.
While I'd managed to get rid of several undesirables, new ones were... bum-bum-bum... flying in to replace them.
Bol Chatak. Saras Lurn. Melik Galera. J'upi She. Olana Chion. Tsui Choi. K'Kruhk. Osar Oset. Ma'kis'shaalas. Stass Allie. T'Bolton. Durnar.
Curiouser and curiouser.
So many questions, so few answers.
And it wasn't even that Yoda had finally given in and sent me, not some mass-produced trash, but real warriors, whose merits were listed in the files attached to the order.
The thing was, that under my wing, I'd effectively gathered everyone who, at the end of the war, had laid siege to Selucami — one of the CIS's strategically important planets. The other thing was that most of them had stayed there. Only Oppo Rancisis was missing — and the set would be complete.
Interesting. A coincidence? Or was there simply no one else left?
The second order that caught my interest stated, thank the eggs, that reinforcements were coming.
From the depths of the sector armies, which had been banging their fists on the table and getting bored during the war, "surplus" clones were starting to be sent to active units. Generally, business as usual.
But did they have to drag me by the pubic hairs?
They were sending me practically legendary elite units.
The 91st Reconnaissance Corps of Marshal Commander Neyo. The very corps that had shot its general off a speeder bike. And the general himself was also part of the reinforcement. How cute — the victim and her executioner, both under my command.
The 38th Armored Division. Lovers of Juggernauts, SPHAs, walkers, and shooting Jedi on Kashyyyk. Yoda wouldn't lie — you just had to wait a couple of years.
The 313th Legion. For the life of me, I couldn't remember what these guys were famous for.
The 416th Star Corps. Even the news reports mentioned them — the guys had been caught in a huge firefight at the very beginning of the war and were effectively formed from veterans of hundreds of other units that had suffered losses exceeding reasonable limits. The classic example where it was easier to create one unit from a hundred half-units than to restore all hundred.
The 442nd Siege Battalion. Now this was getting interesting. Because this unit was from the Third System Army, and they were unlikely to be willing to share. There weren't enough clones as it was.
Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. Except for the 313th Legion, the rest were battle-hardened soldiers who could bend rebar with a glare and burn through durasteel with their piss. Checking the records in the units' personnel files, I could only grunt. Almost every one had come by transfer from active armies. And from the front, at that. I could believe that one commander might be stupid enough to agree to the transfer of one unit. But five at once... And yet, these units were currently preparing for redeployment to Christophsis. At most, they'd be in place in two days, ready for service. Well, excellent.
After sending a reminder to the management of the Christophsis Medical Center to run all the new arrivals through operations to remove their old inhibitor chips, I moved on to the next document, still eyeing this transfer with suspicion.
However, the next file — a message from the logistics service — put everything in its place.
There was nothing mysterious about it. The HR personnel had simply started carrying out my order. The first batches of Arkanian clones were starting to arrive in the GAR. About twenty full-strength corps were supposed to be transferred to us. But Dialo had done his best — and instead, we'd gotten, albeit battered, units consisting of Fett clones.
I snorted. Naturally, the former commanders of these units had agreed — getting fully equipped and manned corps in exchange for Kaminoan ones worn down by life and the enemy. Who would refuse that?
And, apparently, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Obi-Wan, Plo Koon, and other Council members hadn't refused either.
Because over the next two weeks, even if in a thin trickle, no less epic units would flow into the "Gent."
From the very first lines, I almost laughed out loud.
Oh, Dialo. You've got a future as a general.
Because to snatch from the Jedi High Council members every GAR unit I knew of that had distinguished itself in any way during the Clone Wars... You had to work for that.
So, the second wave of reinforcements included the 7th Air Corps from Kenobi's Third System Army. That meant Commander Cody and his cutthroats, who'd been through the sands of Geonosis, the cliffs of Ryloth, the mud of Jabiim. They'd even managed to make their mark on Christophsis before I showed up. One word: veterans.
Ha. The corps existed in name only. Two battle-worn legions and a ton of wounded... Kenobi sure knew how to fight.
How cute. The "legendary" "Fist of Vader" the 501st Legion — was absent from the corps' rosters. You asshole, Skywalker.
The "greediest" for units at the moment was the Sixth System Army of High Jedi General Plo Koon, from which my logistics officers had managed to tear away only the 104th Battalion, commanded by a clone named "Wolffe." One-eyed fellow.
The "Galactic Marines," officially designated the 21st Corps, under the command of Clone Bacara from Mundi's Fourth System. These could be remembered for their actions at the end of the war on Mygeeto — the scene from the third episode where they shot the Cerean on the bridge connecting the planet's capital districts.
Huh, even Windu turned out not to be tied to his "personal" unit. The 187th Legion, which under his command had managed to fight on Dantooine, Haruun Kal, and who knows where else, was also preparing for dispatch.
At the end of the list came quite small units, scavenged from various other armies.
Ghost Company, Tango Company, the 127th Squadron... By the Hutts, Dialo had outdone himself.
Yes, even if these units weren't at full strength, and now — just over a year in — they only had a fraction of the reputation that would later make them famous... But, holy crap! It was anyone's dream — to gather under your command all the most celebrated units!
For the complete "set," I was missing a couple hundred or so well-known units — and then it would be a truly "renowned" army.
It looked like the new clones were pretty good if people were getting rid of the old ones so easily. If they started getting rid of the Coruscant Guard in favor of the new soldiers, then things were definitely smelling like kerosene. The former were absolute beasts, anyway. Back in their days as Republic soldiers, for their brutal suppression of uprisings on Coruscant, they'd earned the nickname "stormtroopers." It was only after the Empire's rise that this term became widespread; right now... it was more of an insult.
Well, I wouldn't make predictions about the future. There were forces I needed to "work with." All I had to do was... "just" win their loyalty... Such a trifle.
I should check with Adi and Luminara on how the buildup of forces was going in their armies. The picture there should be similar. Even if the command had thrown a wrench in my works by replacing the clones and the idea of spreading clones independent of Sidious across the galaxy had gone down the drain (it was time to admit that and think about adjusting the plan), it was within my power to ensure that at least in three system armies — mine, Unduli's, and Gallia's — Fett clones, whose loyalty I could guarantee with a high degree of certainty, remained. I simply no longer had the strength or desire to mess with the GAR's new "toys" Arkanian-produced clones. A bird in the hand was better...
Wait, what the hell is this...
I ask you — what was a sentient thinking when they proposed this?!
In the Order, younglings who hadn't yet reached the age of Padawanship were grouped into clans. Like classes in a school. And this whole little flock of preschoolers, every single one of them, studied under the supervision of one of the Jedi instructors, learning the basics of using the Force, science... To hell with remembering what they crammed into their heads in early childhood.
Something else was important.
The little ones were periodically sent outside the Temple to see the world and show themselves. Like the "field trip" in the cartoon, when a group of younglings was loaded onto Ahsoka and sent to Ilum. Even Oli, while I was lying in the Halls of Healing, had been roped into something similar.
Now, apparently, it was my turn.
The Council was sending the "Hawk-bat Clan" to Christophsis — eighteen "little birdies," their instructor Du Mahn, and her Padawan Chase Piru. What for was anyone's guess. Officially — to get acquainted with other cultures, broaden their views on the sentients living in the galaxy, and... visit one of the Jedi Enclaves. The one on Almas (seriously!? Was that planet in my zone of responsibility?! What the hell did I do to deserve this?!). I was instructed to ensure their safety and conduct a few lessons with them — to set an example.
In short, the younglings were just being "walked." A necessary thing — so they wouldn't think that everything was as perfect outside the Temple as it was inside. But why the hell were children, and in such numbers, being sent into a combat zone? Yes, it was all quiet here — touch wood — but they had to fly halfway across the galaxy, part of which was on fire!
I needed to talk to Yoda urgently and cancel this "courtesy call." Fortunately, this wasn't an order yet — the little ones weren't even on Coruscant; they were returning from another "courtesy call." No way, no how, I'd talk to the green-eared one — the last thing I needed was kids in the army. I had problems up to the roof without them.
I had to get rid of them by any means possible — especially since, as I recalled, the Almas Academy faced an unenviable future of mass executions, bacchanalia, and destruction. True, as I recalled, that was towards the end of the war. But something told me the future had accelerated its pace. Not least because of my intervention.
Alright, enough reflection. Time to get down to business.
Ten more hours to the destination. Enough time to finish with the mail. There was almost nothing left... I might even get some sleep.
"Master!" A young, impatient voice reached me, practically oozing irritation.
"What is it?" I inquired, not looking up from the datapad I was reading.
"Why do I have to train with her, and not with you?" Oli hissed.
Even without looking at the duelists in the Defender's lounge, I knew perfectly well who she meant.
"Because Kira is one of the best swordsmen I know. And she can teach you a few lessons."
"It would be better," the sound of a deactivating lightsaber reached my ears, "if you personally took care of your Padawan's training. Instead of trusting it to some..."
Oh, looks like a mutiny was brewing on the ship.
"You do realize Kira can tan your hide without even breaking a sweat?" I clarified, purely for form's sake.
"Pfft," the student snorted. "You overestimate her achievements. And anyway, I thought you were more into non-human girls..."
"It seems to me," yes, it was already pointless to try and carve out time to study the army documents. Oli had bitten the bit, as they say. "That you are crossing the line."
"But..." the girl frowned, clearly set on a lengthy "debriefing," authoritatively considering herself the ultimate source of truth. Yeah, it looked like I'd let her get way too far. To hell with private jokes, but in the presence of other sentients... I wasn't a conceited snob, but this was too much.
"You are forgetting yourself, student," I said calmly, sending a mental warning towards the girl.
Oli, catching my thought, abruptly crouched, letting one of Kira's short blades pass over her head. It seemed the Hand didn't like the little one getting too big for her britches either. Hmm... I'd also have to talk to Carsen — if I hadn't warned Starstone, the brunette would have taken her head off. It wasn't for nothing that Kira, patiently waiting for the training duel with my charge to continue, had cloaked herself in Force Concealment before the strike.
"How dare you!?" The girl, returning to her starting position, almost lunged at her offender with her fists. However, Kira, deactivating her weapon, met my icy gaze. Not good to do that. The girl shrugged, gave me a half-bow, and headed out of the compartment. Apparently, she considered the matter settled. "I'm talking to you! Hey!"
"Hold your sword higher," Kira threw back without looking, and then one of the training swords, caught by the Force, tore loose from its mount and gave her a light whack on the back of the head.
An irritable mutter came from my student's direction.
Smirking, I leaned back on the couch and returned to reading the latest operational situation in the subordinate sectors.
"Master," the little pest plopped down opposite me. "What the hell do we need her for?"
"Kira is an experienced Force user, an excellent lightsaber combatant, a reliable comrade, and also just a pretty girl," I added the last bit to intentionally annoy the girl. And, judging by the irritation that flared in the Force, quite successfully. "Also, she's been to Belsavis before. Including the Rakata prison complex."
"Wouldn't Lady Grell have been more suitable for this mission?"
"Nadia is in the middle of her own assignment," I reminded her, deciding to annoy my student once more. "Besides, I like Kira better."
"You've already taken two Twi'leks with you," she grumbled. "Decided to switch to human women?"
Sighing — such a pest — I put the datapad down again and looked at my student reproachfully.
"You know how this looks from the outside?"
"What?"
"Your jokes and jabs about... well, you know."
"What's wrong with that?" Oli's eyes widened. "They're just jokes..."
"For you — maybe," I agreed. "I understand them. But in anyone else's company, it's better not to do that."
"Why?" The girl batted her eyelashes. All innocently, innocently. "'Oh, you cunning little...'" I sighed mentally. "'You understand perfectly.'"
"Because to everyone else, you and I are Jedi," I said patiently. "Master and student. Do I need to remind you that such relationships between Order members are forbidden?"
"Um... well, I was joking," she pretended to be flustered.
Yeah, right. I remember your thoughts.
"Let me remind you that Troll almost chokes on his saliva every time he thinks there's something between us."
"So what?" The student shrugged a shoulder. "He's not getting any, so he freaks out."
"Oli..."
"Master!" she protested. "Put yourself in my place. I'm young, pretty. You're not exactly ugly either..."
"Thanks for the kind words."
"Anytime," she didn't even blink. Oh, I could tell I'd started this conversation for nothing. She had armor three packs of margarine thick. "Why can't there be something... more... between us?"
You know the saying — "not a penny to his name, and then suddenly a fortune"? Now I felt that proverb firsthand.
On Earth, things with the opposite sex were... not great for me, basically. But here? They practically throw themselves at me in droves. Not that I'm complaining. After all, I am from another universe. A transmigrator, no less. And I've read plenty of literature in this genre. I remember, in those stories, things always turn out pretty beautifully and logically for the transmigrator. For me, though...
Well, there's a mandatory minimum program for any transmigrator into the Star Wars universe — thank the authors. Every transmigrator is obligated to rework and sing songs by Volodya Vysotsky, "create" and arm clones/stormtroopers/mercenaries/personal army — delete as appropriate — with racially pure Orthodox Kalashnikovs, bang a Twi'lek, or any other female xeno (the gender part I already decided for myself. I'm an Old Believer, after all, heterosexual). And, of course, you absolutely have to play sabacc. Or pazzak, at the very least.
Out of this whole minimum plan, only the third point suited me. And not because it's easy — any xeno prostitute on Coruscant costs fifty credits an hour. Small change, considering my financial resources.
My fascination with xeno girls stems from a purely aesthetic direction. Are there any beings in this universe more beautiful than the girls from Ryloth? Judging by the opinion of a ten-years-younger Anakin Skywalker — some creatures from Iego. I don't know, haven't tried.
But Twi'leks... Well, they're just beautiful.
Their girls are like Earth's fit-nymphos. Always in shape and always up for anything. The ideal option for... well, for everything.
So how do I explain all this to the girl?
"Oli," and still, an explanatory talk had to be done. "For this galaxy, exotics are a matter of course. But for my past life... nonsense."
"What do you mean?"
"My homeland never encountered representatives of alien races," I said with a sigh. "And certainly not their women. So for me, this kind of... relationship... is something new. Unexplored. A completely untasted dish on the menu, so to speak."
"Hmm," Oli furrowed her brow. "And aren't this kind of... relationship... with an underage human woman considered a matter of course in your homeland?"
"Actually, no," I grimaced.
"Well, you see," the apprentice perked up. "There's nothing shameful about it. You're a man, I'm a woman of the same species as you. Especially — an underage one. Your apprentice. A Jedi, finally. This," Oli smiled slyly, "is also a kind of exotic."
"You're a bit young to be discussing such topics," I reminded her, finally accepting the fact that the girl wouldn't let her chance slip. Probably for the first time in my life — here, in a galaxy far, far away — I was being hit on so aggressively. Damn, even Atroxa wasn't this... straightforward. But there was still a chance to thoroughly burden her with moral principles, forcing her to cool her ardor.
"Actually," she snorted, "in the Republic, sexual relations are permitted for humans from the age of fourteen. And I'm almost sixteen!"
I wish she'd put that same fervor into her training — rare as it was, but thorough.
Now everything was clear as day.
The girl wasn't just joking, weaving intimate themes into our communication. She was openly in love. Ordinary teenage infatuation, which Oli perceived as something more. Hence all her nitpicking about the Hands, and about women in my bedroom in general.
Her facial expression alone was worth it when, after departing for Belsavis, we first headed to Tatooine. Landing in the middle of the desert, near an unremarkable standard settlement — one of the strongholds I'd "inherited" from the Hero of Tython — we took on board the "shaboldnaya trio," as the apprentice had dubbed them: the Gella sisters, given to me by Jabba, and Kiru. And only after that did we set course for the target planet.
After Vos transferred to my service, becoming a triple agent in the ranks of the Republic and the CIS, I gave him the residence on Nar Shaddaa to use. I remember, in the events I knew, he hid his beloved there, pregnant with his son. Well, the Emperor's Wrath shouldn't be crammed into some hovel. And the place was empty anyway — after the Twi'lek sisters hauled out everything that wasn't nailed down, the "stronghold" remained unclaimed. As did its counterpart on Tatooine, which became the next target for studying the fragments of the past. Although here, as in Hutt Space, in the sand-swept spacious building, there was little of use. But even that little was carefully moved aboard the Defender. I'll sort it all out later.
And for the empty residence on Tatooine, new "tenants" had already been found. Soon, they would arrive at their new operational base to rest and then set off on a new mission.
Returning to the realities of the present day, it was worth noting that in Kenny's absence, the corvette, left in the care of the former slaves — the Twi'lek sisters Ann and Tann Gella — was in excellent condition. Based on Telos as my personal transport, it had been idle for a long time — when you have ships from an entire system army at your side, you don't need to bother your own starship.
But now, when I needed to disappear from the "radar" for a while, the Defender was the best option. During their time on Nar Shaddaa, both girls had carried out my will, undergoing simple training to operate this ship. So now, on board were two pretty, qualified pilots, who also doubled as mechanics. Little brother — my personal astromech droid — was languishing on the lower deck. Taking him along on this flight was mandatory. After all, this was my personal bucket of bolts. And there was too much sensitive information in his memory. I was, of course, confident in the crew of my flagship, but... the experience of my last "conversation" with my teacher had clearly shown — it was too early to relax and enjoy myself.
"Oli," I said, returning to the current conversation as tactfully as possible. "On my home planet, entering into a sexual relationship with persons who have not reached the age of majority — eighteen years — is very strongly discouraged. Even though I am no longer bound by the norms of my homeland, ethical principles... Well, I just can't do it."
"That long?" the girl drawled, clearly offended. Oh, come on! Go find yourself a boyfriend your own age and have a good time with him. "Your life there must have been boring."
"If it had been fun," Vitiate's words regarding my personal assessment surfaced in my memory, "I wouldn't be here."
Good thing the apprentice didn't know the sad statistics of sexual relations among minors in my country. Otherwise, I'd definitely have to order a chastity belt made of beskar. She was just the type to do something out of the ordinary.
Her pattern of actions and thoughts somehow didn't match what I remembered from the Expanded Universe. There was a calm, sensible, occasionally sarcastic girl. Here — some kind of Lolita with an "Unwrap Me Faster" complex. No, I understand that the Jedi celibacy is a dogma (which every second one, not counting the first, violates) and periodically everyone goes off the rails — the same Kenobi was quite the ladies' man by Order standards. He'd charm a fellow Jedi girlfriend, then fall for a duchess. And no matter where you look — if you pay attention, every Jedi somewhere, sometime, was rubbing navels with someone. The Force is great, but how do you go against instincts? "We really need some sex," I think if Yoda had solved this problem in eight hundred years, all sorts of problems with defections to the Dark Side due to the euphoria of being in love and getting laid would have dwindled to nothing. And I wouldn't be haunted by a student obsessed with sex.
Ah, those were the days — aboard the cruiser Salvation, where we first met, when she wasn't like this. Yes, a bit prim, mischievous, sharp-tongued — but not vulgar. Ah, I only had to die once...
Wait, stop!
Exactly!
My defeat at the hands of Tann. I had one foot in the grave, and the girl, to save my life, established a crude Force bond between us. A bond through which we could communicate without words, exchange emotions, images.
And for my thick-headedness, I deserved a good kick in the ass.
With the establishment of the Bond, Oli was able to "mirror" my thoughts and become privy to the secret of my identity and my plans. Furthermore, her desire to protect everyone and everything — the younglings, the Jedi, sentient beings in general — spurred me to a number of actions I hadn't planned from the start.
But the connection was two-way. She managed to transmit and instill something in me. But something also flowed from my mind into her own skull.
Specifically — an insatiable lust, which I had only learned to control after considerable practice swimming the breaststroke on Twi'leks. And the girl, apparently, had about as much experience in this regard as modern senators have conscience. That is, none at all from birth.
That's why she periodically gets triggered on intimate topics.
Ah... it took me a long time to figure this out. Unforgivably long.
I need to do something about this. Saying outright, "Oli, you need to find yourself a man, and the ants in your pants will go away on their own," is crude, and she might get offended. And an offended woman is terrifying. Doing something like that on Earth is hazardous to your health. Imagine what a Fraulein Underfucked, possessing a considerable connection to the Force and also knowing the secrets of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul's existence, could do?
Oh... I need to solve this problem.
"By the way," Oli perked up, "why is the 'age of consent' so high on your planet?"
I blinked, trying to figure out what she meant. To be honest, I didn't understand what she was talking about. And then I got it...
"Because before that age," actually, the law says it a bit differently, but she doesn't need to know that. Otherwise, she'll soon (by the way — how long from now?) be sixteen, and actually, even in Mother Russia, after that age, you can already pair your genitals with someone else's, and the law can't do anything to you — as long as it's all consensual. But that's already a sacred truth, "boys and girls are still considered children. And children aren't supposed to fuck."
"Pfft, how unmodern," the girl grimaced. After a moment of silence, she continued. "And what happens in your world if an adult man, you for example, were to... well, get close, say, with a girl my age?"
"There are laws for that," I shrugged.
"Any law can be circumvented," the Padawan waved dismissively. When did she become so cynical? "You don't have to tell everyone you slept with a minor..."
"But for those who don't get caught in the act but corrupt the youth," I sighed heavily, "angry Uncle Cleaver comes..."
* * *
Ahsoka, cursing quietly, smoothly slipped around the corner of a building, escaping the line of sight of her tireless opponent. Just in time — an intricate construct resembling a sharpened metal disk embedded itself with a terrible howl into the spot where her head had just been.
"Hutt spawn," she said without much malice. Why were they so annoying? And so... strong.
Sensing a new threat, the girl listened to her feelings. Yes, that was it — one of the locals was standing around the corner. Obviously waiting for her to stick her head out so he could catch her with another of his telekinetic tricks.
"I didn't sign up for this," the Togruta sighed. And this battle was the result of their negotiations with the locals. A lot depended on the outcome of this confrontation. Too much for her to allow herself to retreat.
The locals had given them a "magnificent" reception. For half an hour, both women had been repelling lightning-fast attacks from all sides, never engaging any of their opponents in close-quarters combat.
And only after Lady Grell managed to trick one of the Sha into capture, threatening to gut him like a bantha if it didn't all stop, did the intensity subside.
And on the landing platform, as if from thin air, a tall, stately man appeared. Modest clothes, typical for the backwater, a neat appearance. And that Hutt's saw, the mere sight of which made the Togruta feel nauseous.
"Release my son," the man demanded quietly. "And we will allow you to leave."
"We didn't come here for that," Grell shook her head, still holding the boy — he looked about fifteen — by the throat. "I am Lady Nadia Grell, personal envoy of the Immortal Emperor of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, here to conduct a dialogue with the leader of the Zeison Sha."
"You are already speaking with me," the man continued. "And you dare to hold my child. Is this how you conduct negotiations?"
"A simple precaution," the Sarkhai assured him. "Call off your people, and no one will get hurt."
After her words, the squad of "skybies" emerged from the depths of the Fury, bristling with dozens of blasters. Taking aim at the entire surrounding space, they completely confused the situation. Even a dimwit would understand here — the situation was explosive. And any careless move could lead to bloodshed.
"Release my son," the man repeated. "I will conduct the conversation with you. As long as I live, no one will touch you."
"Excellent," the mentor sent the boy away with a light shove.
"My name is Red Roberts," he introduced himself. "I am the leader of the Zeison Sha."
"You already know my name," Nadia replied in unison, returning her weapon to her belt. "My lord offers your people to join him."
"Just like that?" Red didn't even bat an eye. "Without even explaining who you are and why we should agree to your proposals?"
"It's very simple," said Ahsoka. "Our warship is in orbit. The fact that it hasn't wiped your settlement off the face of the planet is already proof of our peaceful intentions."
The man allowed himself to smile for the first time.
"We are not mercenaries you can buy," he informed them. "And certainly, much more substantial reasons are needed for us to trade Yanibar."
"They exist," the girl assured him. "But we're not going to talk in the middle of your town, are we?"
Then came the long negotiations. Nadia detailed Dougan's proposal. Red was silent for a long time, analyzing the information.
"The Jedi once offered us to join," he said. "We gave a clear refusal. What can your leader offer us that would interest the Zeison Sha?"
Lady Grell gestured around at the surrounding space.
"A new world. Not as lifeless as this one."
"Yanibar is our home," Roberts answered firmly. "It made us strong. Taught us to survive. Life here is the motivation to become better. We have no need to leave it."
"Really?" the Sarkhai was surprised. "Existing on a lifeless piece of rock — is that your choice? Or have you simply resigned yourself to the inevitable?"
"This rhetoric is meaningless," Red shrugged. "We are our own masters. And we have no desire to join anyone. You Jedi just can't seem to grasp that..."
"We are not Jedi," Ahsoka threw out defiantly. "How easily I said that."
"Really?" the man smiled. "You use their weapons, and you act just like they do..."
"The Imperial Knights of Zakuul are far stronger than any Jedi," said Nadia. "We do not limit ourselves by denying emotions, we do not adhere to the dogmas of the Jedi Order."
"Is that so," Roberts chuckled. "But it didn't help you much. The students you faced here could have killed you if you hadn't captured my impulsive son."
"So we still act better than the Jedi," Nadia countered. "It's unlikely any of them managed to get even your attention."
"That's true," the leader of the Zeison Sha agreed. "But cunning didn't give you any advantage. My son is free, and you are still surrounded by my people."
"But you're here," Ahsoka remarked caustically.
"This is a sacrifice I made willingly for my child," the man shrugged. "Any sentient being would do the same."
"Any sentient being," Nadia echoed him, "would do anything to achieve more for their offspring. Including joining those who extend a hand of friendship and are ready to offer them a new home, wealth, and prosperity, instead of living on a lifeless planet."
"And what will be the price of this alliance?" Red smirked. "Renouncing our traditions? Our heritage?"
Ahsoka exchanged glances with Nadia.
"No one has said or demanded that," Lady Grell explained. "On the contrary, our Emperor is interested in the Zeison Sha joining the Eternal Empire. Sharing your knowledge, gaining access to what has hitherto been beyond your experience."
"More Jedi propaganda," Roberts waved dismissively. "We've heard it all before. I will repeat to you what my father said to your predecessors — we will not abandon our own path. We are not droids to deny emotions."
"Neither are we," Grell countered. "That's why the Emperor offers an alliance. The Imperial Knights, like the Zeison Sha, do not deny their nature. Feelings and emotions, the right to marriage — all of this is an integral part of any sentient being. And limiting yourself in this means purposefully and independently castrating a part of yourself. I doubt there are any sane Force adepts in the galaxy who would agree to voluntary emasculation for the sake of phantom promises of eternal harmony in the Force."
Ahsoka sensed the interest emanating from Red. It seemed he was truly doubting for the first time that the envoys were not Jedi.
"You speak of emotions," he said with disbelief. "Yet you exude only the Light Side. How is that possible?"
"The Imperial Knights acknowledge the diversity of the Force," Nadia explained. "And they believe that denying its other aspects, besides the Light or Dark Side, is foolish. The Jedi Code has a phrase: 'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.' But this statement originates from the depths of the ages, when the ancestors of the modern Order understood the indivisibility of the Force into sides, currents, and views. They openly followed their path, learning new things and teaching this to their children and descendants. We are those who continue their path. 'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no fear, there is power. I am the heart of the Force. I am the guiding light of the light. I am the mystery of Darkness. In balance with chaos and harmony, immortal in the Force.'"
"Very similar to what we heard from the Jedi," Red squinted.
"The postulates I quoted are the origins of the Jedi Order, which were perverted over time," Nadia explained. "We, the Imperial Knights, like our Emperor, prefer to use the full potential of the Force. To seek new things and develop. Not to retreat before difficulties, but to find in them the strength to live on. To gain the power of the Dark Side in battle, and to control it with the help of the Light. To show mercy to those around us and be merciless to the enemy. To bring enlightenment to sentient beings and protect them from the horrors of war, disease, epidemics, and other misfortunes. We are the very scales that balance on the edge, thanks to our will. Having drawn from the Darkness, we will balance it with the Light. And by adhering to the principle of Balance, we will always be stronger than the Light and the Dark taken separately. The Force is One. And limiting yourself to only one of its aspects is mindless and fanatical. And history proves that the work of fanatics does not last long," Nadia said with a smile. "Take my word for it. For four thousand years I served this and witnessed the collapse of such beliefs with my own eyes."
"It's too hard to believe that you have lived so long," Red doubted. "No species can..."
"'In balance with chaos and harmony, immortal in the Force,'" the Sarkhai quoted. "When you don't limit yourself and are open to new things, prolonging your existence doesn't become a problem."
"Suppose that's true," Red said thoughtfully, looking around. Ahsoka, following his gaze, just smirked. She sensed that gifted individuals had been gathering around them for the last half hour. Despite their leader's distrust, many of them showed considerable interest in the guests' words. The Togruta listened to her feelings. The vast majority of those gathered were young people, just at the beginning of their path to mastering the Force. And, undoubtedly, they were attracted by the talk that this very power could be multiplied. When you don't limit yourself in emotions, the natural desires of sentient beings push them forward. Especially in the matter of personal growth and learning new things.
She had tested this on herself, joining Master Dougan. Even the little that Nadia had told her about the Je'daii Order was enough for the girl to want to learn more. And this despite the fact that she had never particularly liked science or stories about bygone times. Now, having barely touched something forbidden, she was trying with every fiber of her soul to learn it. To become stronger.
After all, by joining Dougan, with the help of Lady Grell, she had even learned more about Light Side techniques than in all her years at the Temple. And what could be achieved by going to the Academy on Tython and partaking of ancient knowledge under the guidance of Lady Zavros?
For the first time in her life, the Togruta thirsted to learn. But she firmly decided for herself that she must first absorb everything her current mentor could teach her. And then — move on. To learn the new and the long-forgotten old. To become stronger. To cultivate her own power, previously limited by the dogmas of the Order.
To ultimately become the best, fully developed version of herself.
"But you still haven't proven to me and my people that your path is better than what the Jedi offered us."
"It seems," Grell smiled. "You already have a proposal in mind. You want to test us? Very well, I am ready."
"Exactly," the man nodded. "I will arrange a trial to see with my own eyes whether your path can be stronger and better than ours. And only then will we continue our conversation."
"I repeat," Nadia smiled even wider. "I am ready."
"I don't doubt it," Roberts chuckled. "But it would be foolish to test someone who has lived four thousand years. The trial will be for your apprentice..."
There was no room for objection. Ahsoka, and Grell as well, perfectly sensed that several hundred sentient beings had gathered around them. And every single one of them needed proof of the power of the path the envoys followed. Victory would attract the Zeison Sha to the Empire's side. Defeat would turn them away. And then, according to the Emperor's order, ships from Zakuul would simply erase this and other settlements from the face of the planet.
The testing ground they were escorted to was a long-abandoned settlement, located in the depths of a mountain gorge, swept by a fierce wind. It wasn't just hard to fight here — it was incredibly difficult even to move.
"Remember what we talked about," the Sarkhai instructed her. "In light, there is darkness. And vice versa. Maintain the balance of these forces within yourself. Feel like a simple sentient being, to whom neither anger nor compassion is alien."
"Easy to say," Tano grumbled. "If I had the same knowledge as you, I would..."
"'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,'" the Sarkhai said with a smile. "Believe in your strength — and you will win."
Glancing at the three Zeison Sha fighters, who were looking at her with a mocking smile, ready to begin the trial — essentially a battle within the abandoned settlement, where every corner of the buildings, carved by wind and time, was a sharp surface like a razor — the Togruta just sighed resignedly. And took a step into the boundaries of the dead settlement. The trial had begun.
Dashing out from behind the corner, the girl ducked, letting a warrior's lunge pass over her head as he clutched the traditional Zeison Sha weapon. Executing a lightning-fast sweep, the Togruta put her opponent on his back. Seeing that he was ready to continue the fight, while his two kin were only moving towards the battle site, Ahsoka, infusing her body with the Force, pinned the opponent to the ground, knocking him unconscious with a precise blow from her seemingly fragile fist. They might be strong in telekinesis and some other Force abilities, but they didn't shine in hand-to-hand combat.
The Togruta dodged to the side, avoiding a clot of Force that the warrior to her right hurled at her. Taking aim, she sent her blade in an arc towards the new opponent, forcing him to defend. But he, without thinking twice, lifted a huge boulder with the Force, placing it in front of him as a shield. Well, well.
The girl, concentrating, changed the trajectory, sending the blade behind the opponent's back. An instant, and the snow-white blade slashed across his legs, severing tendons. A guttural cry reached her, and the boulder, along with the second warrior, crashed to the ground.
Excellent, one left. The leader's son himself, who had replaced one of the fighters at the last moment. But where had he gone?
As if in answer to her thoughts, the teenager leaped from the shadow of the nearest building, throwing his weapon at her. Instinctively, Ahsoka raised her blade. The disk, colliding with the white strip of energy, disabled the weapon. But it also changed its own flight trajectory.
The former Padawan threw the charging man back with a Push, but he brushed it off like a gust of wind. A fraction of a second, and his disc weapon was back in its owner's hands. However, Ahsoka had also retrieved her second blade.
The Zeison Sha's saws could withstand her lightsabers. And their telekinesis skills were an order of magnitude greater than anything she could use to surprise her enemies. She would have to be more cunning if she intended to win. And she needed triumph like air.
The apprentice, launching into the air, landed on the roof of one of the houses. Without slowing her pace, she continued her run, intending to circle around the enemy. Or, at the very least, to get out of his line of sight. Judging by the incessant strikes of the saw against the walls, he was still trying to end the confrontation with a single thrust. Throwing an interested glance over her shoulder, the girl noted that, like the other two fighters, the boy could only send his weapon in a straight line. At tremendous speed, but only in one direction. That was worth using.
A curious thought formed in her mind.
She rounded a large number of buildings before approaching the city center. The last enemy followed her through the streets but was hopelessly falling behind. Excellent.
Reaching the central part of the city, she deliberately stopped, letting the enemy think the girl was afraid to jump from the height of a three-story building.
It worked. Through the Force, she felt the deadly weapon launched in her direction. Performing a dizzying somersault, she began descending toward the street surface, a hundred meters from her enemy. In mid-fall, she sent a powerful Force Push toward the saw. The disk, caught by the energy of the Force, tumbled through the air and disappeared among the city buildings.
"Perfect!" the girl congratulated herself.
And at that very moment, when her feet touched the surface, the Force cried out, warning her of danger.
She couldn't get out of the way of the second saw in time. All she could do was lean to the side, so that the sharp edges of the disk would pierce not her ribcage, but, cutting through the fabric armor on her shoulder, damage the muscles of her left arm.
"Hutt!" she cried out, instantly feeling that part of her body was no longer under her control. The enemy, seeing she was injured, returned his weapon to his hand with a powerful Pull, further aggravating her wound.
What a little bastard! He had a second saw! And why hadn't she noticed it earlier?
The girl felt the wound filling her with its pain. Apparently, one of the arteries had been pierced, as bright red blood began literally gushing from the damaged area of skin.
The enemy noticed this too. Now he wasn't running toward her headlong, but approaching slowly. The girl saw the satisfied smirk on his face, felt his smugness and joy at her suffering. He was enjoying the pain he had caused her. And he wasn't rushing to help. And he was the only one who could save her life right now — the nearest city border was several kilometers away. Before she, weakened by the battle, could reach it, she would bleed out.
Ahsoka looked at the teenager with hatred. His emotions were splashing on the surface — she didn't even need to strain to read them.
He wanted her dead. Ahsoka's death would confirm the rightness of his and his father's worldview. And it would be the ruin of all her hopes.
"Don't resist," the boy said in a venomous tone, approaching her. Now there was very little distance between them — about ten meters. "Your shoulder artery is pierced. A couple of minutes, and you'll bleed out."
"And you're not going to help?" she asked with distaste.
"Why would I?" the boy asked in genuine surprise. "The trial is a fight to the death. I won't become a warrior if I don't kill you."
"And if I had killed you?" Ahsoka asked, stunned.
"That happens," the youth shrugged. "Zeison Sha understand the necessity of deadly battle. Only this way can one achieve more. Dedicate your life to the teaching that will save your life. Everyone dies here to make way for those who are stronger."
"Something... familiar." Ahsoka felt herself weakening. It seemed she didn't have much time left to live. And that made her afraid. For the first time, casting aside the Order's dogmas, she understood how much ordinary beings feared death.
"I won," he concluded. "Don't resist — I'll cut off your head and hang it in my home. Proof that you were weak."
But she wasn't going to die. Not now. Not like this.
Something cold stirred in the depths of her consciousness. As if an ice block had broken off a comet and was entering the upper layers of the planet's incredibly dense atmosphere. The ice was evaporating before her eyes, releasing... something new.
An animal fear that pierced her like lightning. And that fear gave her strength.
"I won't be anyone's trophy," she said clearly and loudly, feeling an unprecedented Force flowing through her veins.
The boy didn't have time to defend himself.
Streams of white-blue branching lightning, shooting from the Togruta's fingers, surged toward him. He tried to deflect them with telekinesis, but the power of the Dark Side shattered his pathetic attempts. Dozens of sparkling Force projectiles dug into his body, producing an inhuman cry of pain that tore from his chest. Reflecting off the walls of the empty settlement, the canyon arches, the cry spread around, turning into an infernal howl.
"Not alien to anger..."
The stream of lightning dissipated as soon as she remembered her mentor's words.
."..nor to compassion."
Burned, but quite alive, the boy lay at her feet. Pitiful, broken, humiliated.
He... was afraid of her. Now, he was no longer dangerous. Now, there were no obstacles for her.
Somehow, the instructions she had received as a youngling in the Halls of Healing came to mind on their own.
Concentrating, the girl took a deep breath, directing the surging streams of the Force within her toward regenerating the damaged tissues. Silly girl, how could she have forgotten about this.
Slowly but surely, the tissues of the torn artery were healing. The blood flow grew quieter with each second. Fear and anger receded as she used the Light Side. The feeling of discomfort and dizziness returned. It seemed she had lost too much blood.
Her concentration wavered, and with it, the regenerative effect faded. The artery had been restored, but the soft tissues still ached with a dull, stabbing pain.
"I... I'll kill you," she heard a threat through sobs from the defeated enemy. "They'll... heal me. And I swear, I won't rest until you're dead, you filthy bitch..."
"I am the sacrament of Darkness."
Another line from the ancient codex flashed in her mind.
"You will suffer, you alien scum," the boy seemed to be coming to his senses. "I'll definitely kill you, but first — I'll have my fun. Me and my friends..."
He was a threat. The simple thought that appeared in the girl's head made her grip the lightsaber tighter in her good hand.
Leaving him alive — mercy.
Killing him — ruthlessness.
Spare someone who swears to hunt her down to kill her, and before that — to fulfill his basest desires.
"I will kill you," she said, activating the snow-white blade.
In the boy's emotions, she felt fear. The very same she had felt moments before.
Fear of death.
Of non-existence.
Of the end of his existence.
"No," he babbled, struggling to crawl away from her. His legs barely obeyed him, slipping on the rocky street surface. But he compensated for the lack of traction with frantic energy. "Don't... I was joking..."
Ahsoka felt he was lying. In the most brazen way.
Trying to appease her to survive. To regain his strength. And to do what he had promised her from the start.
Wretch.
Despicable slug.
The Togruta felt dirty. All those base thoughts she had picked up, all those threats she had heard. It was as if she had plunged into a pit of filth, trying to claw her way out while the waste soaked into her skin and the smell irritated her nostrils.
"Funny," she said. "But I didn't appreciate it."
Switching the hilt of the blade to her preferred reverse grip, she pulled her arm back.
"N-O-O-O-O-O!!!!" The son of Red screeched like a wounded Gamorrean, thrusting his hands out in a defensive and simultaneously pleading gesture. "Jedi don't do that. Spare me."
"I'm no longer a Jedi," she stated confidently, finally making her decision. Those who beg for mercy only because they can't kill you right now don't deserve it.
A swift stroke of snow-white energy, without any resistance, bit into his forearms and collarbone, burning its way forward with each fraction of a second. Ahsoka watched it as if in slow motion.
There, the blade passed through his left arm, which, like a fallen leaf, slowly began to fall to the ground. The tip of the sword carved a path from the collarbone to the lungs, burning a cavity in his insides that instantly released the trapped air.
The Togruta felt the energy burning the alveoli, the tissues, taking the last moments of life from her opponent. A boy, essentially guilty of nothing except being scum. The embryo of a monster that should not survive.
When the blade touched his heart, cutting across it diagonally, the boy's eyes began to roll back. Even though it all happened in fractions of a second, the nerves of the human body transmitted all the pain of the mortal wound to his brain.
Freezing in the center of the heart, the blade, obeying her light pressure, burned a hole through his chest, vaporizing the bones of the spine and soft tissues.
A muffled gasp escaped the boy's lips. Now his body had ceased to be even a partially functioning organism.
Ahsoka, listening to her feelings, made sure that a lifeless body lay at her feet. And only then did she deactivate her weapon.
The Force around her was filled with suffering. The pain of a being's death struck her nerves, further disorienting her weakened body.
The girl collapsed to her knees, trying instinctively to shield herself from the cacophony of emotions raging around. The death of a Force-sensitive always hurts more than the death of even a hundred ordinary beings. And how unfortunate that all this suffering couldn't heal her...
And again, a belated thought filled her mind. Dougan's story about how Darth Bane, the creator of the Rule of Two, survived after being struck by a deadly poison.
To hold on until he could receive help, the Sith absorbed the suffering of others, sustaining his life in his poisoned body.
Stirring the sparks of her own fear of death, still not extinguished, Ahsoka, not without effort, stirred the Dark Side within herself.
Since you helped me win, you'll help me survive too.
Fanning the fire of anger and rage, the girl felt she could touch the faded, but not yet dissipated, emotions of the suffering of the boy she had killed.
Closing her eyes, concentrating, she began to absorb the horror and pain the teenager had experienced before death, strengthening her own body in the process.
The aura of suffering still surrounded the corpse. His lamentations and pleas seemed to still hang in the air. Ahsoka, for the first time feeling no disgust for the Dark Side, forced herself again and again to remember everything the dead boy had said to her, feeling the Dark Side within her growing stronger with each memory.
Like a dried-out sponge, she absorbed the echoes of his torment, saturating herself with them like a gourmet in an expensive restaurant. Her dizziness and weakness receded.
In their place, the Force flowed through the girl's veins, bringing energy and strength to move on.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Catastrophically not enough to fix her situation. If she had remembered this earlier, she could have used the emotions of the boy while he was still alive. The Togruta had no doubt that would have given her far more strength to return to her mentor.
Even though she had managed to gain additional energy, it still wasn't enough... She needed more. Otherwise, she was done for.
Ahsoka, absorbing the last drops of another's suffering, simply smiled.
Who would have thought that a diligent Jedi apprentice would use the Dark Side so readily to preserve her own life. Instead of humbly accepting her death, as a diligent Jedi should.
Staggering, the girl took a few steps toward where her Force-enhanced senses told her there were those who would give her more strength to survive.
Continuing to sustain the Dark Side within herself, the future Lady Tano walked with a steady gait toward her two future victims.
The Zeison Sha themselves said it — this is a trial to the death.
And she wasn't going to die because of her own weakness and Jedi nonsense. Not here. Not now.
Never.