"Master," San'sii Kursk looked up from contemplating an ancient text — one of many brought out by the founder of the Black Guard from numerous Sith academies a thousand years ago. "The guards have detained a stranger at the camp's border."
"Something serious, Ikeru?" the Sith asked, casting a disapproving glance at his apprentice. "You know I don't like being disturbed."
"My apologies," the young man, Kursk's apprentice who would one day inherit the Black Guard's cause, bowed respectfully. "But the stranger is armed with a lightsaber..."
"A Jedi!?" San'sii gnashed his teeth. The memory of how the Order had wiped out most of the Black Guard was still fresh. Even though it had happened many years ago...
"Furious Evgum claims not," the apprentice shook his head negatively.
"Interesting," Kursk rolled up the manuscript, made from the skin of an ancient animal, and set it aside. "Bring the stranger in."
Ikeru bowed again and spoke a short phrase into his comlink. Then, as befits a loyal subject, he moved behind the back of his master's chair. An obedient warrior who lacked true Sith treachery and cunning. Like all members of the Black Guard. But one shouldn't forget that their organization was created as a counterbalance to what typical Sith represented — tearing each other's throats out for the slightest scrap of power.
Evgum, the head of security, didn't keep them waiting long.
The door to the spacious main hall, where the archive was housed, opened a few minutes later — it seemed the intruder had been kept nearby.
Measuring the Twi'lek Lethan with a glance, who, despite the shock cuffs, didn't look broken, as befits a prisoner, San'sii took the intruder's lightsaber from Evgum's hands. The Sith activated it with interest. A crimson blade cut through the semi-darkness of the room. Grunting, the cult leader deactivated the weapon. He pushed back from the table, examining the uninvited guest with maximum interest.
"We don't get many visitors," he began the conversation. "Who are you?"
"Over the years, I've changed many names," the girl shrugged. "You may call me 'Lady Atroxa.' Or 'Darth Atroxa.'"
"Is that so," the Sith chuckled. "Darth... It's been a long time since I've heard that title."
"Just a title, nothing more," the Lethan smirked. "The wrapper doesn't matter. The contents are far more interesting."
"Foolish wordplay," the man snorted. "What are you looking for here?"
"The Black Guard," she answered simply. Looking around at those present, the girl gave a charming smile. "And I've found you."
"How?"
"It's not difficult," the Twi'lek explained, tilting her head, examining the cult leader. No, not him. Kursk felt her attention was directed at his apprentice. "Just pay attention to your underlings scurrying around the only city on the planet. When you know what to look for, tracing their path to your base isn't hard."
San'sii looked at the head of security with deep displeasure. He looked clearly embarrassed. Understandable — the leader had already expressed his remarks on this matter more than once, predicting unfavorable consequences. And here was the result. Their secret base, located in the ancient ruins of a Jedi temple abandoned a thousand years ago, was exposed.
"And so — you're here," the Sith stated the obvious. "For what purpose?"
"To make you an offer you shouldn't refuse," Atroxa smiled just as before.
"And what would that be?" Kursk became wary. That the guest was a Sith was already clear to him, and he didn't even doubt it. But what could she offer those who, over a thousand years of isolation, had managed to gather and learn more secrets of the Dark Side than the Brotherhood of Kaan and the Order of Sith Lords of Darth Bane combined? And not just gather, but multiply the legacy. And, with the help of this knowledge, achieve the greatest enlightenment, looking at the galaxy in a new way. As no one living or dead had ever managed — neither Jedi nor Sith.
"My master offers the Black Guard to join him," hearing this, Kursk felt a flame ignite inside him.
The Sith of Bane's litter, to which this girl undoubtedly belonged, decided to insult them?!
"Tell your master that he has nothing to offer us," he declared. "We don't need to waste our time returning to the old tenets of the Sith order. We are above that. We have evolved."
"As my master says, 'Deceleration is also motion,'" the Lethan recited. "But I don't serve a Sith."
"Who then?" Ikeru asked impatiently. "The Jedi?"
"In that case, you'll die faster than you can tell them anything," Evgum growled, unambiguously placing his hand on his own weapon.
"And you say you're evolving," disapproval appeared in the girl's voice. And caustic mockery. "You are blind men who can't see past your own noses. If you still believe that only Jedi or Sith can dictate their will to beings."
"Then who?" And again the apprentice anticipated his mentor. Yes, Ikeru didn't demonstrate the ambitions inherent in Sith, but he was too impatient. "Who do you serve, Darth Atroxa?"
"One who sees the flaws in both of these teachings," she answered calmly. "The Immortal Emperor, whose wisdom is so great that he extends a hand of cooperation to you, offering you to kneel before him."
"Why would we?" Evgum flared up. "We are Sith, and we will bow to no one!"
"Another fairy tale for children," Atroxa snorted. "Since the beginning of time, the weak have bowed before the strong. Denying this fact is empty polemics unworthy of existence. Such is the nature of beings — to choose a leader and follow him. Do you think it's different for you, just because you've rejected the ideas of the Brotherhood? Not at all. Your sect merely confirms the rule of evolution. I was a Sith. More powerful than any of you. Yet, upon meeting the Immortal Emperor of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, I knelt, for such is the true order of things — the strong rule, the weak obey."
"Your master is doomed," the cult leader laughed. What curious words she spoke. Did she really think that because they were recluses, they didn't know obvious historical facts? "As are the Jedi. As are all those who are not ready to accept the truth — the Force serves to understand the universe. It is a tool of knowledge, not of achieving power."
"Oh, believe me, unreasonable being," the Twi'lek bared her teeth. "My master understands that perfectly. That is why he mocks those who are so flawed they cannot comprehend the truth. The Force is One. There is neither Light nor Dark. There is only Balance. And by observing it, as it was in the beginning, the gifted can achieve whatever they want. And your clumsy attempts to turn to the Dark Side for knowledge... The game of stupid children who got a new toy and won't leave it until they break it. And yet," her face took on an expression of cold composure. "The Emperor offers you to join him. He extends a hand of help, promising true strength and power in exchange for complete submission. Studying the Light and Dark sides of the Force separately from each other is a dead end that leads to degradation, stagnation, extinction. The Emperor understands this. That is why our teaching is a return to the origins. Gaining power inaccessible to any Jedi or Sith. The balance of all sides of the Force, as a source of power and understanding not of the galaxy, but of the Universe."
"Je'daii?" Kursk was surprised. Atroxa nodded affirmatively, and the Sith himself felt a wave of bewilderment and... anticipation sweep through his followers.
The knowledge accumulated over a thousand years was a vast array of data, primarily about the Dark Side of the Force. But besides that, there was evidence of the power of the Light as well. The Black Guard had methodically collected crumbs of information from the past. It was no wonder that many years ago they had stumbled upon mentions of the Je'daii Order. The progenitor of the systematic understanding of the Force and the surrounding world. The chronicles, painstakingly reconstructed by the Furious, indicated that the ancestors of modern Jedi and Sith indeed possessed enormous strength and power. And over the millennia, this power had been lost. And, as much as one might wish it, it was impossible to restore. An insurmountable task for a cult that had no more than a hundred Force-sensitives — powerful in the Dark Side, yes, but still too few to conduct such research while simultaneously hiding their existence from the galaxy. Once, they had already tried to do this — a small expedition to Ossus in search of ancient knowledge had resulted in the revelation of their existence. And the Jedi hounds — the Shadows — came for them, nearly calling the cult's very existence into question. Only by a miracle had they managed to divert their gaze from the Black Guard's true base — Mustafar — by sacrificing all those who were outside the planet. Fortunately, the orthodoxy of the Jedi — kill a Sith before asking questions — played a cruel trick on them. They killed all the Furious and novices, losing the opportunity to trace the origins of the organization. A cruel loss of many, for the sake of preserving the remnants. A necessary sacrifice for survival.
Upon coming to power, San'sii had been forced to halt all work on finding ancient Jedi texts for the sake of the Black Guard's continued existence. The cult would not survive another "coming out of the shadows" and confrontation with implacable enemies. Therefore, for many years now, no member of the Black Guard had left Mustafar. The Jedi themselves weren't particularly interested in the ruins of their ancient temple — if they even remembered it was here.
But at the same time, the cult did possess some Jedi knowledge. The mentors had skillfully woven it into the training process. Now, it could be said with confidence that the current generation of the Black Guard surpassed those who had founded the cult. Kursk realized too late that this only spurred the youth's thirst for something new. The knowledge of the Light Side corrupted the guards, awakening in them ancient Sith instincts — a thirst for knowledge that granted even greater power. What irony. For millennia, Jedi had sought Sith knowledge to become stronger. And the Black Guard had broken the pattern in the opposite direction.
And now, when for the first time in many years a trend toward the emergence of youth — the continuers of the cult's idea — was emerging in the Guard's ranks, this Lady Sith appears with one of the most coveted offers. In effect — extending a hand on which lies what every acolyte, from novice to Furious, wants.
Too good to be true. The moment chosen too conveniently.
San'sii didn't even need to turn to the Dark Side to feel that Evgum, like Ikeru, were literally drooling, waiting for his consent to join this unknown Emperor. Pathetic sucklings! The thirst for power and knowledge had clouded their minds. A mistake that had killed thousands of Sith in the past.
And he needed to be careful to refuse this obvious trap, whose goal was undoubtedly the destruction of the Black Guard. It didn't matter how it happened — whether they were all killed or assimilated. The cult would come to an end. As would his own power.
"No," the cult leader said decisively, rising from his chair. "I reject your Emperor's offer."
"Interesting, why?" Atroxa asked lazily. "You are offered power, in exchange for such a small thing — to serve a being whose strength is even beyond your understanding..."
"You lie," the obvious disappointment with which his subordinates were literally dripping did not escape him. "There is no Immortal Emperor. The Eternal Empire of Zakuul fell thousands of years ago... The one you call your master is just another power-hungry schemer who has learned a couple of tricks. If he were here, I would spit in his face and make him my slave..."
"Too cowardly to say that in person?" The cult leader's gaze did not miss that the Twi'lek seemed to have ceased being herself. She stood unnaturally straight, her head held high. And her eyes...
Even in the semi-darkness of the hall, it was visible that instead of them — only two black, boundless abysses. And her voice... undoubtedly, the Twi'lek was merely an empty vessel, inside which was the essence of a more powerful being. Had it been this way from the start, or had it just happened?
"You are a pathetic insect before me, San'sii Kursk," Lady Atroxa continued in a sepulchral tone. Although, the cult leader himself was beginning to doubt that it was her before him. He was too smart and experienced not to recognize the change in her aura. The Force surrounding her had changed its hues, transforming from a calm container of composure into a boiling, alien abyss, eclipsing everything in the room. "You reject what I offer you. You doom your people to extinction."
"Who are you to dare throw such an accusation at me?"
"I am the one who saw the end of this cult. Saw the death of every one of you at the hands of ordinary beings who, in a few years, will want to inspect the ruins you inhabit." The low bass poured like sweet molasses into the ears of those present. "Under your command, Kursk, the Black Guard will fall, just as all the Sith before you fell. Talent squandered. And you, wretched parasite, dare to reject my offer? To indulge your own ridiculous ambitions? By sending my emissary to you, I hoped to find loyal followers here — ready to cast aside absurd restrictions and dogmas, to comprehend true greatness. To serve the one true purpose. Instead, I found only a pack of weaklings flaunting their degradation."
"What purpose must we serve?" San'sii opened his mouth to argue, but Ikeru beat him to it for the third time.
"Serving me," the Emperor rumbled. "To take the galaxy in hand. To learn all the secrets of the Force. To become those who put an end to the strife between odious teachings. To be my strength — one that will reconcile enemies and destroy dangers before they even manifest. And only after that will peace reign over the galaxy. Eternal peace, under the shadow of the Eternal Empire."
"The Jedi will never allow it," Evgum declared authoritatively. "We already have a sad experience of confronting them—"
"Like any weaklings, you tucked your tails between your legs and hid, seeking answers in the comprehension of the Dark Side. One-sided, hypocritical, selfish." A short wave of his palms, and the shock cuffs fell to the marble floor with a dull thud. "Blind men, wandering in the shadow of your own ignorance. Submit to me—"
"Never!" Kursk, tired of the insulting speeches, tore a lightsaber from his belt and charged straight at the Emperor's herald. A corruption that must be eradicated.
His crimson blade soared, ready to cleave the unarmed Lethan's head from her shoulders, but at the very last moment, it struck a strip of red that had suddenly appeared before his weapon.
"We believed in the truth of your words for too long." Glancing to the side, he saw with bewilderment that it was Evgum who had blocked his strike.
"Traitor!" he exclaimed, finally realizing what game the Emperor was playing.
His Force flooded the archive room, clouding Kursk's foresight. The master of this cheap whore had played on the base desires of his followers. The blind men had swallowed the bait. Greed had clouded their minds. Worthless!
Only years of experience allowed him to return to concentration on this battle amid the surrounding hurricane of foreign Force.
Evgum rushed at him, putting his enormous physical strength into his strikes. Kursk was forced to retreat. The Cult Leader's position allowed him to be far more educated than his opponents. That was why, unlike the other Furious, he had been trained in more than one fencing style. And now, that came in handy. Because he parried Evgum's Shien easily with his own Soresu.
"Ikeru!" he exclaimed. "Don't stand there like a pillar! Help me suppress this heresy!"
The blows rained down like hail. San'sii switched to an impenetrable defense, delaying the inevitable advance. Though he was mightier than all his followers, years of studying Dark Side rituals had eroded his body. In truth, he could no longer finish off an opponent with the same ease as in his youth. That was why he had resorted to summoning his apprentice.
Ikeru would handle it. After all, he had no ambition. Only diligent obedience.
Evgum tried to sweep his legs. In response, Kursk jumped, performing a backflip. Spinning, he flew over his opponent, noticing with a smirk that Evgum had been trying to pin his teacher with his back against the massive table where ancient manuscripts were laid out.
Landing on his feet, he brought up his weapon just in time to block a strong, sweeping overhead strike. He pushed the looming Evgum away and jumped again, spinning at a distance from him to keep the Furious from gaining an advantage and striking him in the back. A more than timely feint — on the landing, he caught a Force Lightning with his blade that his former follower had used to try and disarm him. He might be old, but he still had many moves in his arsenal.
And one of them he was about to use right now... Where the Hutt was Ikeru!?
The next instant, he felt mortal danger from his right. Changing his vector, he was forced to defend against his apprentice's unusually fast and treacherous combinations.
"Traitor!" Kursk roared, throwing his opponent back with a series of powerful strikes. However, the nimble man easily overcame his countermeasures, threatening to deprive the former master of his hands with his actions. As if.
In desperation, seeing that San'sii was focused on him, Ikeru unleashed a Force Lightning at him. As before, the cult leader absorbed it with his weapon, creating a small "bait" of Force around the blade. Naively thinking that simple sword energy could resist the Force.
Throwing the apprentice back with a tricky combination that left a small surface cut on his chest, Kursk switched to Evgum, who had appeared nearby. The tall opponent advanced as before, like an unyielding machine, pushing the leader into a corner of the room. And now Ikeru was up, ready to join the rebel.
Together, they pressed down on their former master, who defended himself with increasing ferocity every moment. Hatred for the traitors only fueled his desire to dispose of them, confirming his right to dictate the path forward for these beings. But with every second, he sank deeper into the Dark Side: every blow and counter-blow was accompanied by a roar more fitting for an enraged animal.
"This can't go on forever," he grinned at San'sii, having successfully slashed Evgum's bicep. "You are nothing against me."
The struck fighter hissed and retreated for a moment. Kursk easily parried Ikeru's thrusts, inwardly triumphant that the boy was weakened by the protracted confrontation. But he could not match his master's skill. A smooth movement of the cult leader's blade, and the apprentice's weapon was cleaved in two, no longer fit for battle. Pushing them both away with a Force Wave, Kursk looked around with a triumphant snarl, searching for Darth Atroxa. The Twi'lek watched impassively as the Black Guard leader scattered his followers like bantha calves.
"Your attempts to poach my servants are fruitless," he shouted, gathering the Force for the impending kill. "I am stronger than all of them! The rebellion has begun, and it will die here! And then, I will find you and finish you off!"
"You are so tense," the Lethan chuckled in a different voice. "By surrounding yourself with weak followers, you only laid the foundation of your fall. I will teach them to be strong — as they deserve."
At that same moment, numerous chairs, caught by telekinesis, the Emperor's vessel hurled in his direction. As if these ridiculous projectiles could do him any harm.
Cutting through the furniture, San'sii approached his last opponent with every step, growling with rage. The Force around him boiled with fury, narrowing his perception further. It didn't matter. He just needed to take a few more steps and kill the vile bitch...
Ending this circus, Atroxa threw a table at him. The massive object rocked, spilling manuscripts and ancient texts onto the floor. Kursk, seeing this as a gesture of despair, easily caught the table with the Force, suspending it in the air for a moment. Then, slightly redirecting its trajectory, he hurled the table back at the Lethan — not in an arc as she had just done, but straight ahead, like a kinetic projectile.
Shattering into pieces, the rare-wood object slammed into the opposite wall. However, among the debris, he saw no lifeless body.
Instead, he spotted the Twi'lek standing beside his defeated apprentice. She was helping him up, placing her own weapon in his hand.
"You cannot win," she said, addressing the Black Guard leader. "You are wasting your strength too quickly. Unwise and foolish."
"The Dark Side is inexhaustible," Kursk boasted. Fine, let it be so. Now he would kill them both.
"And it is also a source of treachery," the Twi'lek noted simply. And her black eyes were fixed somewhere behind him...
Too late, he understood what this whole spectacle with floating interior objects and distraction had been for...
He spun on his heels lightning-fast, ready to meet the opponent he had unforgivably dismissed.
Their eyes met. But their blades did not.
"You are a cancerous tumor on the Black Guard," Evgum hissed in his face, driving his weapon into his former master's stomach. "And your mindless rule has come to an end."
A searing crimson flash severed Kursk's spine, exiting through his back. He felt it — as well as the blade's energy burning parts of his internal organs and nerves. San'sii tried with his last strength to throw his opponent off, but his body failed him. The enemy's blade deactivated, letting his body fall to the floor.
"Excellent," he heard the Emperor's voice. "Let us count this as a gesture of your loyalty, acolytes."
Consciousness was slipping away from him, no matter how hard he tried to cling to reality with the Force. His clouded vision caught a pair of shoes stopping beside his face.
"Announce the Black Guard's joining of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul," a new order came from the Twi'lek. "Kill those who disagree."
"But if they try to escape the temple?" Ikeru inquired.
"It has long been cordoned off by my soldiers," the Emperor smirked. "Carry it out."
As soon as both traitors disappeared from the room, San'sii's consciousness was touched by life-giving energy. His mind rudely burst from oblivion's embrace, clarity of sight returning. And pain...
"You are frankly not bad, Kursk." The Twi'lek's sharp nails dug into his face, turning it so that her bottomless black eyes looked into his own. And through those fingers, foreign Force flowed into him, holding him back from death. He already felt better. Though he could not feel his lower limbs. "In other circumstances, you could have lived and become one of my close confidants."
"P-p-please." He barely uttered the forgotten word. "Spare my life. I... will serve you."
"Of course you will, you fool." The Twi'lek's smile pierced him with cold. "It's not in my nature to waste resources."
"Th-thank you." Kursk closed his eyes and licked his dry lips. "Your enemies will die by my hand—"
"And still, you are an idiot," the Lethan shook her head. "I have enough servants. But what I need is..."
The defeated Sith felt himself growing drowsy. His body went stiff, as if filled with icy cold. Very... familiar sensations. He thought he had read about a technique like this... What was it called in the chronicles of the Lettow Legions... Morichro?
"Sleep, you simpleton," he heard Darth Atroxa's voice — now a pleasant girlish tone. "Your awakening will bring you many surprises..."
* * *
Watching this circus was a real pleasure.
"I'm tired of hearing about Manaan's neutrality! It sounds like a coward's excuse not to fight, if you ask me!"
The officer's voice echoed through the room where the Republic mission had made a last attempt to turn the tide in their favor. Desperate, but predictably doomed.
"Captain Endel Sayt," the Presiding Judge pronounced in the same hissing-whistling voice. "If that phrase is your only argument, it is clearly a poor one. The High Court of Manaan has spoken."
"What kind of court are you?!" the Republican exclaimed indignantly. "A bunch of pathetic aliens hastily gathered from across the planet to make the first fateful decision in thousands of years for your godforsaken world!"
"As I see it," the blue-skinned Twi'lek with black tattoos smiled, "when the ground is burning beneath the Republic's feet, its representatives resort to insults? This action by the captain—" She rose from her Adjudicator's seat, addressing the dozen Selkath sitting on the other side of the room. "is clear proof that the Republic does not respect those it intends to work with. Even as a representative, they sent a simple officer, though they first promised a Jedi Master would arrive. The Republic lies even in the small things..."
"Sha'ala Donita," the Presiding Judge interrupted the CIS representative's speech. "We are developed enough to understand the words of the Republic's Adjudicator. And we have made our decision."
"Is that so? That was quick," she thought in surprise.
"Captain Sayt," another of the judges spoke up. "We have heard the Republic's proposal. And we disagree both with joining it and with making centralized kolto shipments to the Grand Army of the Republic. Henceforth, if you, your army, or your government are interested in kolto, you will acquire it in the usual way — on the open market. At double the price."
"What?!" the man was stunned, while the room erupted in loud laughter from the Twi'lek — Count Dooku's personal assistant.
"This is payment for insulting the members of the High Council of Manaan and every Selkath living on the planet," the same judge explained. "The disrespect you showed to Manaan's neutrality by arriving for negotiations on a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer is another reason the court made this decision. Diplomacy is clearly not your forte. You made a grave mistake starting this dispute without the help of the Jedi. Perhaps then the Republic could have saved face, let alone the prices for kolto."
"And wait another month for those bastards to send another of their tricksters to replace the one who vanished without a trace?!" The Republic officer flared up. Then, throwing a glance at the grinning Twi'lek, he pointed an accusing finger at her. "It's the Confederacy's fault the Master disappeared—"
"Enough," the Presiding Judge grumbled loudly. "In the time since the Jedi's disappearance, you have failed to provide any substantial evidence of the CIS's involvement. Meanwhile, the Akhto City police provided you with footage from external surveillance cameras, which indicates that the Jedi entered Hangar 47 and vanished without a trace along with a private ship docked there. The Selkath have every reason to consider the Jedi the thief of that ship and to oppose the Jedi's continued presence on Manaan. The court considers the Republic's part of the matter concluded."
"Representative Donita," another Selkath interjected. "Are you ready to hear the court's decision?"
"Naturally." The Twi'lek rose from her seat with a smug smile, throwing victorious glances at the crushed and humiliated Republican.
"The High Court of Manaan, having considered the diplomatic mission of the Confederacy of Independent Systems regarding joining said Confederacy, the centralized supply of kolto to its worlds, the appointment of its representative to its Senate, and the deployment of a droid military garrison on Manaan, has decided—" The Presiding Judge paused for breath as he read the text from a datapad screen. Expectation was frozen on both Adjudicators' faces. "to deny the Confederacy of Independent Systems on all points of the petition."
"What?!" The Twi'lek shot up. "Have you completely lost your bearings, you slimy mugs?!"
Now it was the Republican's turn to laugh heartily.
"We extended the hand of friendship to you when you were floundering in your ocean, barely making ends meet," Dooku's assistant spat out the words. "And you, you wretches, dare to insult us with your refusal?"
"Moreover, Representative Donita," the Presiding Judge continued imperturbably, "like the Republic, the Confederacy may purchase kolto on the open market. At double the price."
"What?!" the Twi'lek said, stunned. "Why?"
"The Republic and the Confederacy are no different in the eyes of the High Court of Manaan," said the Presiding Judge. "Like Captain Sayt, you arrived here aboard a Providence-class Star Destroyer. You insulted the Selkath people. Therefore, the High Court deems it appropriate to leave both sides in their former positions."
"Ha." The Twi'lek proudly tossed her head. "Your economy will collapse the moment the CIS starts buying kolto from those not subject to such sanctions."
The Selkath, staring dully at both Adjudicators, said:
"You must not have understood. Captain Sayt, Representative Donita. The price of kolto has been increased not only for the Republic and the Confederacy. From now on, kolto will be supplied at double the price to the ENTIRE galaxy."
"What?!" The Twi'lek's eyes widened.
"Have you gone completely Hutt-mad?!" the Republican shouted. "It will cost as much as bacta now!"
"Thank you for noticing that, Captain Sayt," the Presiding Judge said, as cold as his skin. "Isolation has not done the people of Manaan any good. For too long, we were convinced that kolto was many times worse than bacta, and we were forced to trade it practically for nothing. Thanks to you, this oversight has been corrected."
Watching the faces of the Adjudicators — full of incomprehension and anger — she could only smile, holding back the laughter rising within her.
"This concludes the session of the High Court," the Presiding Judge announced, rising from his seat.
One by one, the Selkath left the courtroom. Decommissioned for the first time in almost three thousand years.
The door — the only entrance to the small observation room from which she could watch the entire circus staged by the inhabitants of Manaan — opened, admitting the Presiding Judge.
"Your will is done." He dropped to one knee, bowing his head as a sign of the deepest respect. "The Republic and the CIS will leave Akhto City within twenty-four hours."
With these words, he handed her a datapad. Its contents — a credentials letter concerning Manaan's accession to the Eternal Empire and the Selkath's loyal sentiments toward the Immortal Emperor of Zakuul — would be an undeniable cause for occupation of the planet by any of the currently warring superpowers. Fortunately, this document would never fall into the eyes of anyone beyond the Empire's capital planet. Nor would the reports on all the projects started in this world by the Emperor's emissary.
"This spectacle," she pointed at the bickering Adjudicators of both sides leaving the courtroom, "has thoroughly entertained me."
"The people of Manaan have expressed their will." The Selkath looked at her with his small eyes. "Now both sides are deprived of kolto."
"Which, in turn, will allow us to receive more of it," she nodded to her own thoughts.
"Of course," the judge confirmed the correctness of her thinking. "No one will buy kolto at a price equal to bacta."
"I trust the price for our shipments of this wonderful substance will remain the same?"
"Do not doubt it, Lady Zavros." A slight hint of offense crept into the Selkath's voice. "The Eternal Empire will receive kolto in the necessary volumes completely free of charge until the end of time. The Order of Shaza will never deceive the supporters of Balance. We, like you, are faithful to the covenants of Revan."
"The Eternal Empire is indebted to the Order of Shaza," the Togruta smiled. "I will arrange for the most experienced and qualified members of the Order of Imperial Knights to be sent to Manaan. As well as ships and a military contingent to defend the planet from possible attack. I do not think the Republic and the CIS will miss the chance to capture the planet."
"You are as kind as ever, Lady Zavros," the Selkath gurgled. "We could not even have hoped that our humble teaching would ever receive a new impetus."
"The Emperor favors his allies," she informed him. "The Order of Shaza did a great thing by carrying out a coup d'état so quickly and without much bloodshed."
"We were fragmented," the Selkath reminded her. "But with the arrival of the Republic and Confederacy emissaries, we reconvened the High Court. Thanks to you, the Order of Shaza has become the central government on Manaan. And we are in an unpayable debt to the Eternal Empire for the trillions of credits you intend to invest in our economy. For the first time in the existence of our race, we will be able to fully explore the ocean floor. Already our people are working to restore the operation of long-abandoned kolto deposits — particularly the Hrakert Rift. The Empire's credits allowed us to purchase the most advanced equipment, and now kolto extraction is carried out without any harm to the Founding Titans. There will be no repetition of that unfortunate incident that only Lord Revan was able to resolve. And kolto production will rise again, for our ancestors will no longer kill workers who dared to disturb their rest with the operation of archaic machinery. I can assure you — the kolto you will receive tomorrow is only half as effective as bacta. But the volume of its supply, at peak production, will be tens of times greater than the amount the Republic receives as bacta. And the battle stations we are secretly purchasing through proxies will reliably protect the planet from any invasion."
"These are excellent news, Presiding Judge," Ashara assured the Selkath. "Have your swimmers examined the coordinates I provided?"
"Yes, my lady. That facility has long been abandoned and has fallen into disrepair due to lack of maintenance. However, it is quite easy to restore. Restore its integrity, dry out the compartments... And it will once again become one of the most luxurious artificial reefs for the habitation of beings."
What had Dougan expected when he sent her to inspect a stronghold nearly four thousand years old? It was surprising that any of its structures had survived at all.
"I am glad to hear it. The Emperor hopes his residence on Manaan will be restored to its finest form."
"Undoubtedly, Lady Zavros. The Emperor will be pleased. We will consult the archives, and the residence will appear before his eyes in the form our architects originally built it. I have been assured that no more than two weeks are needed."
The Togruta merely nodded politely in response. She was tired of showering praise on the fawning Selkath.
"Have you reached an understanding with the others in the military sphere?"
"Not entirely." What a surprise. Were there unpleasant news today as well?
"Some problems?"
"Isolationism... has strongly affected the majority of the population. We are ready to defend Manaan to the last drop of blood, but to go to the stars to wage war there..." The Selkath hesitated, meeting her merciless gaze. "Be that as it may, over fifty warriors of the Order of Shaza and two hundred thousand young Selkath are ready to join the ranks of the Eternal Empire's army."
"I expected nothing less." In truth, this was even more than they could have imagined. The Emperor had not set a task for large-scale recruitment like this. The Presiding Judge, as always, had risen to the occasion. "We will immediately send instructors to Manaan to train the Selkath military swimmers."
"We will receive them as befits honored guests."
"And one last thing. The factory."
"Give us a month and a half, and we will complete the construction of the research complex and assembly line workshops." Again that reassuringly confident tone. "Do not doubt it — the combat machines we will create for battles on oceanic worlds and on the surface will become the most advanced in the galaxy."
"And once again, your answer pleases me, Presiding Judge." Ashara smiled. "I will inform the Emperor that his new subjects are a model to be emulated."
"We live to serve the Empire." This time, the Selkath bowed so low that the Togruta thought his spine might snap.
Holding the datapad, the Togruta headed for the exit. Already standing in the doorway, she recalled an important detail.
"What became of that Jedi who stumbled upon my ship in Dock 47?"
The judge, looking at her from under his brow, smiled predatorily.
"The Founding Titan was pleased with such a snack."
* * *
This day, like many others, began in the Senate monotonously. A session scheduled for early morning, dedicated to discussing military expenditures.
Padmé, like many of her fellow opposition members, prepared for the systematic and lengthy chewing over of the same issues, when suddenly, in violation of protocol, Senator Orn Free Taa's box slid forward from its place.
But instead of the familiar figure of the obese Twi'lek, there sat a graceful green-skinned Twi'lek woman. Padmé exchanged bewildered glances with Bail, and in response to his questioning look, merely shrugged. Though Taa was part of her circle, he did not share his plans with her. And he certainly had never introduced her to his assistants. Over the past few years, he had changed them more than any other senator. Like toys a small child had tired of.
"The floor is given to Senator Suuwie of Ryloth," Mas Amedda announced.
Now that was interesting. Padmé looked for Mon, Riyo, and several other senators with her eyes. But the expression on everyone's face was the same — bewilderment.
"Thank you." The Twi'lek's voice was well-trained. How could one combine such a majestic posture, the mannerisms of a boulevard whore, and oratorical skills, she wondered? "Senators, Chancellor—" Amidala felt surprise appear on her face. And judging by the whispering around her, other senators also noticed that Suuwie had brazenly ignored the generally accepted manner of addressing colleagues. "Esteemed..." had somehow been lost in her upbringing. "I must inform you that, according to the decision of the government of Ryloth, the former Senator Taa has been removed from office. I will take his place in the Senate."
The whispering grew louder.
"Interesting," Padmé mentally noted. "This is unprecedented — a change of a senator without the usual bureaucratic procedure. But why? And who is this Suuwie?"
"What nonsense? Ta'a had held that position for over ten years. They might not have been allies, but still — he was a colleague. And since when is it heard of for a Senator to be replaced? It's practically a lifetime appointment. Few can handle it."
Padmé shifted her gaze to the Chancellor. He looked as composed as ever, but from the exchanged glances between Amedda and Sly Moore — another of Palpatine's aides — Amidala realized this was as much news to them as it was to the entire Senate.
"Friends," the Chancellor raised his hands like a referee in a boxing match, calling for silence. "The will of the people of Ryloth must be respected. As I understand it," he turned his gaze to the new Senator, "your government has invoked the 807th Amendment to the Constitution?"
Receiving an affirmative answer, the Nabooian gave only a barely perceptible nod.
Padmé, not trusting her memory, accessed the Senate database to find the necessary document. And judging by the slowness of the query processing, she wasn't the only one unfamiliar with such matters. Finally, five minutes later, the system returned the answer. Hmm, indeed, the government had the right to independently replace a Senator without approving a new candidate. But that amendment was over ten thousand years old! Judging by the last access date to the archive, it had been used around that time, and then conveniently forgotten.
"Well," Palpatine said. "Since the esteemed Senators are satisfied with the legality of the Ryloth authorities' actions, I propose we move on to the main issue…"
Amidala prepared to advance her platform, opting to launch a political attack immediately. That was what they called a tactic where a delegate began active operations without waiting for their opponents to prepare. Often, such underhanded tricks could yield huge dividends.
However, she was beaten to it again.
"What the hut is going on?" Organa crept into her box, barely audible.
"I know as much as you do," Padmé lamented, watching Senator Domas Bellus's platform fly into the center of the hall.
"Esteemed beings — what's with the etiquette today?! Have they been sniffing spice or what?! Or are they deliberately angering the Senators to derail the session? — You all know me — we've worked together for years. However, today I must inform you that this is the last day the Illodia sector is a member of the Republic."
"What?!" Organa was stunned. Simultaneously, the Senate erupted in cries of insult and accusations of treason.
Illodia — the capital of the sector of the same name — was located in the Core Worlds. Thanks to its advantageous position, the agricultural products the planet was famous for, along with most others in the sector, fed a tenth of the Mid Rim, the Colonies, and the Core Worlds themselves. When Ukio was captured by the CIS, Illodia's stocks soared, since only it could supply those in need on the Outer Rim — even at its own expense, because the Senate had unanimously voted for the forced seizure of supplies from Illodia's warehouses, without even settling accounts with the supplier, while the goods had already reached the consumer.
Losing this sector was like a call for the Republic to tighten its belt. And for the CIS…
"Please calm down," Palpatine rose again. "What prompted your decision, Senator?"
"This is the opinion of my government; I am merely a messenger," the man noted humbly.
"Liar! Separatist bastard! Throw him in prison!" came the shouts of other Senators.
The situation was understandable. Unlike most other sectors, the government on Illodia was a sham. Real power rested solely with the Senator, to whose tune the entire sector danced. So the accusations against Domas were well-founded.
"I dare to assure you," the former Senator continued, "that despite your insults, Illodia will not join the Confederacy" and that produced the effect of a bombshell. "Our sector has its own destiny from now on."
"Does this mean food supplies from Illodia will cease?" Palpatine inquired dryly.
"No," the Senator shook his head. "We will fulfill current contracts according to our obligations."
"And new ones?!" came a shout from the Gran delegation. A timely question, given the Republic's practice of purchasing food and other army supplies in massive batches every month. Or rather, once a month. A fairly simple money-laundering scheme on government orders. But there was no one to fight the ever-new criminal schemes that sprang up from nowhere. The Jedi and the Judicial Corps were bogged down in the war. Intelligence didn't have such authority — at least not until the next amendment.
"When the time comes to discuss them, Illodia is open to dialogue," the Senator said coldly, returning his platform to its place amid deafening shouts and jeers. He left his box in complete silence.
"What was that just now?!" the Alderaanian gasped. "What's gotten into him?"
Padmé decided to test her hunch by looking at military reports. Hmm… strange, but no CIS ships had appeared in that sector since the war began. So what was the reason?! Could it be that the GAR had chosen to reduce orders from Illodia in favor of Ukio?
"I… don't even know what to say," Padmé said. "Look!"
She nodded toward a new platform that had appeared in the vacant spot.
"Who's that?" Bail frowned. Padmé just shook her head. She had never seen this short man before.
"Esteemed Senators — oh, at least someone got the etiquette memo today! — You may not know me personally. I am the representative of the Mordell sector…"
"What sector?" the Nabooian was surprised.
"Never heard of it," Bail replied in unison.
And the shouts of "Who are you?," "Get lost back to your hole," and the like only confirmed Padmé's opinion that the named sector was so insignificant no one could even remember it.
"Do you have anything to address the Senate with, esteemed sir?" Apparently, even Palpatine, for all his outward infallibility, couldn't recall this man's name.
"Exactly, Chancellor," he agreed. "Our sector is poor and frankly remote…"
The Senator's voice was drowned out by loud shouts. Some Senators were chasing their colleague away, others outright insulting him. A normal day in the Senate.
"Be that as it may, we are leaving the Republic, preferring to handle our own problems rather than endure the indifference of the central government," the short Senator shouted, trying to overpower the din that even Mas Amedda couldn't quell.
"Well, go on then! Beggar and moocher! You'll come crawling back!" His departure was accompanied by anything but cultured remarks.
"A second sector in less than an hour," Padmé shook her head.
"And," Bail pointed at another platform, "it looks like not the last."
"That's the representative of the Trilon sector!" Padmé gasped.
For the third time that day, the Senate witnessed a remote — and honestly, barely needed — sector seceding from the galaxy. Most Senators were openly amused, insulting those who chose to secede at such a bad time.
They booed and humiliated everyone. Representatives of the Farlax and Uimmel sectors announced their secession amid outright insults. And they became the last among the five Senators who walked away into the unknown.
Finally, the Speaker called a recess. Taking the opportunity, the Nabooian and the Alderaanian secluded themselves in the Naboo diplomatic mission, burying themselves in datapads. The situation needed immediate analysis.
"This is all strange," Bail stated half an hour later, looking up from his computer. "None of these sectors hold any significant interest. Without the support of an influential patron, they'll simply perish…"
"It's not that simple," Padmé shook her head. While the other Senators were making grand speeches, slinging mud at those who had seceded, she spent time making inquiries. "There's a certain system here."
"And what is it?"
"All five Senators were on friendly terms with Bama Brimu," she pointed to the compiled information on the Senators' official meetings. Over the past few months, the Senator from Himbarin had met with each of these officials more than a dozen times.
"A coincidence?" Organa's tone showed he didn't believe his own words.
"I don't think so. Look," she pointed at new data. "Uimmel was subjected to a biological attack six months ago. All its population — humans — died out. Except for a few thousand scattered across the galaxy. Now that the CIS, leaving only ruins behind, has abandoned that territory, they are returning. Look at this data."
"Purchases of military-grade orbital stations," Organa said thoughtfully. "But why would those who barely survived extinction need military equipment? All these stations, even if slightly outdated, require thousands of personnel."
"In addition, Rendili, through the mediation of Elder Aizel, sold them several hundred Dreadnoughts," Amidala turned the virtual page. "This all smells very bad, Bail. Especially considering that Uimmel is in the very heart of the Core Worlds, Republic territory…"
"Someone is creating a well-defended bridgehead in the heart of the Republic?" Bail seemed unwilling to believe his own words. "Padmé, you're exaggerating…"
"You think so?" Amidala narrowed her eyes. "Then look where the Farlax sector is located."
"Hmm… practically on the backwaters of the Republic."
"Not on the backwaters, Bail! In the Republic's rear!"
"That doesn't mean anything yet. Look, the only route there is the Perlemian Trade Route — or rather, its branch, the Metellos. That's a well-known dead end."
"Look at these notes instead," she tapped on the results of xenarchaeological expeditions. "This is information on the Mordell sector."
"Well… I have nothing against furry races…"
"Bail! Be serious! The Mordell sector is full of gas giants and asteroid fields that could become a resource base for an enemy fleet! The Trilon sector too. The Commerce Guild was going to get mining permits there, but the war started. And all this in a region the Republic simply can't reach quickly! They could build a fleet or a droid army in complete secrecy! And we won't know until the CIS armadas flood out of there!"
"You're exaggerating…"
"Open your eyes! The Illodia sector is food. Mordell is resources. I'd bet that every one of those gas giants in those systems is suitable for fuel production or tibanna mining! Uimmel is a bridgehead in the heart of the Republic. This is a targeted seizure of strategically important territories! And I'm sure they're intended specifically against the Republic. Remember, I told you Bama claimed that some force had appeared that would help her sector. And others too! I'm sure they're seceding from the Republic not to become impoverished. This is undoubtedly another cunning plan of Dooku's!"
"It's all too… vague," Organa admitted. "Three sectors in the Core Worlds, three on the Outer Rim. Plus, two sectors are devastated by the CIS… Very doubtful. I think some Senators have just finally had enough of our order and bureaucracy. I don't believe that after surviving the horrors of a CIS attack, anyone would want to join them. It's something else."
Padmé pondered, biting her lower lip, while Organa scrolled through another batch of information. She was clearly missing something, having latched onto the surface…
"What if the threat isn't in the galaxy?"
"What?" Organa was stunned. "What do you mean?"
"Mordell, Illodia, Trilon are located on the border of the Outer Territories. If you look at the map," Padmé, guided by her hunch, expanded a holographic projection — "just suppose that through the Unknown Regions there are hyperspace routes hidden from us that connect Illodia with the Farlax sector, and from there through the Perlemian Trade Route to the Corellian and Hydian…"
She didn't need to finish. The Alderaanian looked clearly dejected. The picture was incredibly grim.
"Now your words make sense… One swift strike with large forces," he whispered. "The entire Core would be cut off. All our shipyards and industrial centers. Hut, Padmé, you always see to the root, even if not the first time! I was too busy looking at the inhabitants of some moon in that sector."
"You'd better look at the race inhabiting Farlax!" the girl said irritably.
"What's wrong with that? The Center of the Galaxy!"
"Bail! They killed members of three expeditions! Look what the sole survivor wrote: '…they are talented, hardworking, friendly. But all of that is a deception meant to lull those stronger than them into complacency. As soon as they understood how our technology and weapons work — they fell upon us in a deadly avalanche…'"
"That was five hundred years ago! Padmé, you're overworked. What danger to the galaxy could some Yevetha possibly pose?"
* * *
"Human," Blood Claw's shrill tone grated on the ears. But making him shut up was unwise — especially when our five were surrounded by hundreds of his warriors. "We have arrived at the Prison."
His three-fingered claw pointed at a massive, squat structure, partially hidden under snowdrifts. The dark gray material from which it had been built tens of thousands of years ago seemed timeless. At least, in the structure of the massive rectangular arched entrance that led into the Rakatan underground complex, I didn't notice a single crack or pothole. Despite the fact that four thousand years ago, one of the bloodiest battles in the galaxy had raged here. During the confrontation between the Sith Empire and the Republic, Belsavis became a battlefield. And largely because of this very prison — built by the Rakata to contain those who now controlled its surface.
The Esh-kha. An extremely dangerous, treacherous, aggressive people who had drowned a good part of the galaxy in blood before the Rakata could stop them. The genocide carried out by the natives of Lehon put an end to the bloodbath. Billions avoided death at the hands of the most bloodthirsty criminals in the Unknown Regions.
"I see, Blood Claw," I sighed. "You kept your word."
"The human must keep his!" The grin of the Esh-kha chieftain was more like the maw of an animal designed for uncompromising killing than an expression of emotion.
"Do you doubt the Emperor's words?" Kira tossed her lightsaber meaningfully in her hand — the very one that had destroyed hundreds of Esh-kha immediately after our landing on the planet.
The flight to this snow-covered world went without any incidents. The Defender had once again delivered its owner to Belsavis. And, as before, it was to solve a global problem.
Unfortunately, the coordinates of the Rakata prison complex were not in the old navigation computer's database. Only markers of a long-erased Republic outpost where the corvette had landed. We had a search ahead in permafrost conditions — almost the entire planet was covered in snow and ice, with only small oases of thawed space.
However, from the moment our group set foot on the ground, our plans changed dramatically. Primarily because of the local aborigines, who shouldn't have been there.
The Esh-kha attacked us in a swift wave that should have swept us away, trampled us, and torn us apart. If we had been ordinary beings.
What chance did even a numerous enemy, armed with completely obsolete cold weapons, have against three Force-users who weren't shy about slaughter?
Correct — none. The Esh-kha had none, either. The Force tore the lightly armored alien bodies to pieces, bloody chunks filling the surrounding space. The first squad was followed by a second, then a third…
At the end of an hour-long battle, the Esh-kha chieftain deigned to appear. And he turned out to be too crude and stupid to accept the obvious. Blood Claw — his closest aide — proved far more astute. So establishing a dialogue turned out not to be that difficult.
Reaching an agreement was harder. The Esh-kha demanded my ship. I promised to exterminate them as a species. After spending several hours in fruitless debate, we reached no consensus. I had to resort to backup arguments.
After the Harrower, under the command of Dreagan Allous, carried out a pinpoint orbital bombardment, vaporizing several dozen Esh-kha settlements located on the ruins of outposts left by the Republic and the Empire — and only then did Blood Claw show even greater intelligence.
He acknowledged the obvious.
That I could destroy the already pathetic remnants of his people — the interceptors flying at low altitude convinced him of that completely. The proud and arrogant Esh-kha bowed their heads before me.
No one knew exactly how many of them were on the planet. But hardly more than a million — primarily due to the limited resources suitable for feeding too many members of this race.
So we formed an alliance. From now and forever, the Esh-kha became my personal army. And they pledged to do as they were ordered. In exchange, the Eternal Empire guaranteed the supply of food and weapons, equipment, explosives sufficient to conquer living space on this ever-frozen world.
Well, I was fine with that. Clones were good, of course. But even the CIS droids wouldn't stand against this force — which, for now, would remain in reserve, guarding the planet from encroachment by either side — the Republic or the Confederacy. Possibly. And when the time came — even the Empire needed "cannon fodder" among organics — they would vent their wrath on those who deserved it.
"You're not guarding the entrance?" I asked Blood Claw.
"That's right," the Esh-kha grunted, pointing at the passage leading into the depths of the Prison Complex. "There's no need when both the Republic and the Empire have left this planet, fleeing from the Esh-kha. Now we are the masters of Belsavis."
"You must be mistaken," I chuckled. "This planet belongs to the Empire. You are merely allowed to live here until I figure out what to do with you next."
"Kill," the Esh-kha leader implored. "It's in our blood. Killing is our nature."
"Excellent," I allowed myself a smile. "Trust me, you won't be lacking battles. But the Rakata artifacts might get lost along the way. That simply cannot be allowed."
"The Esh-kha keep their word," the sharp-toothed one assured me. "We serve the master as long as he keeps his."
"Be sure of that like never before," a smirk appeared on my face, coupled with a crooked grin. Truly, wasting such excellent material on trifles… No, unheard of.
And now, new followers accompanied our small procession here. The main entrance had remained open all these millennia. And who was there to fear? All who were dangerous now stood behind me. And those who disagreed were long feeding the worms in the ground.
The Rakata architecture impressed with its grandeur. Even after thousands of years of disuse, it still preserved the great deeds of a long-dead race. They sure knew how to build for the ages!
And for now, I was filled with admiration. And this complex was to serve the Empire's benefit.
Stepping over the threshold, I felt an icy coolness that seized me from head to toe. The power of the Dark Side solemnly hastened to take possession of my body, or my companions'. Like hell it would.
We easily drove off that intrusive bitch and hurriedly continued our journey toward freeing my body from the remnants of genetic shortcomings.
Soon, the Immortal Emperor would gain the Force worthy of him by right.
And then, nothing would stop me.