Eight of the most powerful Force adepts on Zakuul — the capital of the Eternal Empire — now stood before him.
They felt neither rage nor serenity. They stood at attention before their direct commander, each holding an opaque helmet in the crook of their arm. Their eyes expressed nothing but the desire to serve a higher purpose — to serve the embodiment of the Empire, of power and knowledge of the Force, their Emperor.
Each of them, if they wished, could destroy the population of a small settlement, or complete their assigned task without being seen by the enemy. Their hearts knew no mercy, no compassion, and the end always justified the means. Unless the Emperor had ordered otherwise.
Each of them had walked their own path, based on varying degrees of ruthlessness, before donning the very uniform they now wore. And despite everything, they had all ended up here. They had become better than their former selves. They had become better than most Force-sensitives in the galaxy.
However, Vikmar Bane, captain of the Imperial Guard, knew for certain that none of his lieutenants — nor any of the guardsmen, whether those standing before him or those stationed in other parts of the galaxy — would ever use their knowledge and the Force to do anything contrary to their Lord's plans.
Such was the Emperor's will: to bind his mind to every guardsman, whose life from the moment of initiation until death was linked only to him. Any desires, any impulses — secondary. The Emperor and the Empire — primary.
Vikmar knew this because his own thoughts were subjugated to the Emperor just like every other guardsman's. And that didn't bother anyone who wore the silver-white armor. And it never would. Until death itself.
Despite the prevailing opinion in Imperial society — they were not droids at all. Living humans and aliens (though mostly humans anyway), who ate, drank, slept, and had personal lives. In those rare moments when they took off their snow-white-silver armor and became ordinary, unremarkable citizens of the Empire.
Standing before him now were the best representatives of the Imperial Guard. In common parlance, their organization was also called the "White Guard" because of the color of their armor.
When the Emperor was informed of this, he found the popular initiative quite amusing.
Perhaps because the Imperial Guard structure also included the Black Guard. Or perhaps for some reason of his own.
Although Vikmar held the post of commander of the entire Imperial Guard — giving him access to most of the Empire's secrets by virtue of his duty — even for him, the identity of the leader, the official strength, composition, and tasks of the Black Guard remained a mystery.
It was unknown whether they had any connection to the Sith cult that had joined the Order of Imperial Knights. Nothing was known about them at all. Except for the fact that they existed.
When swearing allegiance to the Emperor, to the Empire, and to serve them, Vikmar, a former Jensaarai, clearly remembered the faces of those comrades of his — the first graduates of the Tython Academy — who had appeared before the Emperor on the day of his arrival on Zakuul. And he was extremely surprised when he took command of the Imperial Guard and did not find many of his comrades among its ranks.
Instead, he was able to see the Force-sensitives in black armor leaving the Citadel's dungeons. Right before he underwent his own enhancement procedure. And after it was over, he no longer cared. And, judging by the fact that the Emperor — whose voice he had heard many times in the time since his initiation — had access to his thoughts and had not descended on Bane with all manner of punishments, the captain's silent keeping of the secret of the Black Guard's existence suited him just fine.
But that was all lyrical. Vikmar had no doubt that the existence of the Black Guard was one of the Emperor's secrets. And those who knew the truth would never voice their thoughts aloud. Would never share them with anyone. Because otherwise, the Emperor's voice in Vikmar's head would issue an order to rid the galaxy of an overly talkative being.
Despite his high position, Vikmar had furnished his office in the style of absolute minimalism. A large multifunctional desk, several bookshelves with books and data storage, a wardrobe, chairs. No external gloss, designer decor, banners, flags, or other paraphernalia.
Everyone entering the left wing of the Imperial Citadel on Zakuul knew where they were going — the headquarters of the Imperial Guard. Signs or labels were not needed for navigation within the Emperor's residence. No being who didn't know the way to a particular room ever ended up there.
Since all Citadels throughout the Eternal Empire were identical, it was no wonder that everywhere the regional branches of the Guard were located in the same place. Only the beings inside differed from one another — but to understand this fact, one first had to at least remove a guardsman's helmet. No living being had ever managed this. Dead ones, even less so.
"Communication with the Emperor has been lost," he reported, carefully observing his lieutenants' reactions.
Currently, the Guard had only ten lieutenants — commanders of guard units stationed in various parts of the galaxy. They had all gathered on Zakuul at this alarming moment not for idle business. Each lieutenant was carrying out his own task, and each had reasons to be in the capital.
"You all felt it," he continued. "As did your subordinates. Rumors of his death are outright lies. Continue doing your work as before. Any incidents among your subordinates during the prolonged absence of communication with the Emperor must be immediately suppressed. Is that clear?"
The last question didn't have much point — a guardsman needed no clarification. He understood everything regardless of rank. Regardless of the task he was performing.
But even the initiation process — the manipulations performed personally by the Emperor in the depths of the Citadel — cannot rid a person of the habits of the past. That would take work. Over time, the unnecessary traits of humanity would fade — along with most feelings. So the Emperor had promised.
"Now, I await your reports," Bane said, folding his hands on the desk, looking at his subordinates.
Unlike the Emperor, he did not have the ability to establish a mental connection with guardsmen across space, whispering orders across parsecs. On Zakuul, Bane could still contact guardsmen invisibly, but for communication outside the capital world, simple encrypted communication methods had to be used.
But on this day, the Force had willed that the lieutenants report in person. So be it.
Vikmar nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement.
The primary task of the Guard was the protection and defense of the Emperor. And although he could defend himself, this task was not negotiable.
Vikmar Bane's men also guarded the Empire's top-secret and most important facilities. At the same time, the Emperor also required his guardsmen to identify Force-sensitive individuals in the territories under their control. Those who then had only two paths — to be sent to the Tython Academy, and after completing their training, to join the Order of Imperial Knights. Or... never use the Force again.
"All quiet on Zakuul," Lieutenant Saber said in an even, emotionless tone. Once, they had followed Lady Atroxa together. They had learned about the Dark and Light Side on a scale no Jedi had ever dreamed of. And now Lieutenant Saber's unit guarded the Emperor's residence on Zakuul and the entire Imperial Quarter, stretching for hundreds of kilometers around the Citadel and the Throne Hall. "We have started the second solar reactor to power the planetary particle shield and will conduct its test soon. Three Force-sensitive individuals have been identified in the Twi'lek community. We are preparing them for transfer to Tython — their potential is high."
"Lieutenant Max?" Bane, nodding in acknowledgment of the information from the previous officer, shifted his gaze to another officer. He and his men were stationed in the Maw — an anomalous region of space near Kessel. Inside the region, impassable to starships, lay the "Maw Installation" the Empire's top-secret research center. Max also handled the retrieval and delivery of the most valuable technologies that had caught the Emperor's interest to the "Installation."
"The gravity shadow generator technology," the man said in a slightly hoarse voice, "is already being studied by Moff Jerjerrod's subordinates. My people are collecting the full-cycle 'technologizing' mechanisms of the Ssi-ruu in the lizard worlds. Among the lizards' servants, we found one being — a human, a teenager, weakly Force-sensitive. By the Emperor's order, he has been delivered to Belsavis."
"Logan?" another comrade from the Jensaarai sect. Like the previous two, he had become one of the first fighters in the Guard. And as more and more gifted individuals passed initiation, they received new assignments. However, career advancement for a member of the Guard was not a matter of pride or empty self-praise. The Guard, unlike the Jedi, received its officers by the Emperor's will. Whenever a new task arose.
Logan and his guardsmen were ordered to guard the Academy of Imperial Knights on Tython, with their headquarters in Fortress Ryo in the system and the Emperor's personal fleet under their temporary command. They also, by order of the first person of the state, recruited new candidates from among the Academy's students into the ranks of the White Guard.
"The system's defense grid has been strengthened," he said. "Lady Zavros has reported that three students are ready for graduation. We have a profile on each of them. BoShek will integrate perfectly into Titan Squadron. Evgum has a strong inclination toward the Dark Side. Recruiting him into the Guard ranks is inadvisable. He will be assigned to Lady Ventress's command. Tasi Gree is weak as both a commander and an adept of the Unified Force. I advised the master of the Kaleth temple-library to involve him in work there. In an administrative position, he'll cause fewer problems. We are conducting restoration work on the Eye of the Emperor station to gain access to the Je'daii scanning systems and control over Core space to prevent unwanted transit."
Bane dryly advised accelerating work in this direction.
This space station, orbiting the outermost planet of the Tython system, had been built by the descendants of settlers who arrived in the Tython system on Tho Yor ships. For many millennia, it had been used as a launching platform for starships departing to explore other worlds of the galactic Core. The station also served as an observatory for monitoring the cosmic space of the Core in the system's vicinity. For these purposes, the station was equipped with sensor devices and communication systems based on Tho Yor technology, which the ancient inhabitants of the star system had managed to understand. Despite the station's antiquity — built tens of thousands of years ago — it was relatively well preserved thanks to the use of Force Forging during its construction.
When Tython was inhabited by the Je'daii, this artificial space object was called Fury Station, but with the arrival of the Eternal Empire within the system's borders, after the conquest, the station acquired a different name. And a different purpose.
Now its personnel were servicemen of the Emperor's Ghost Squadron, tasked with activating the ancient systems and using them as early warning systems against a possible invasion. Throughout its history, Tython had been subjected to sudden attacks multiple times — despite being located in a place where navigation was difficult. The Emperor refused to even entertain the thought that the cradle of the Order could be attacked.
Furthermore, after the station's restoration, the infamous Titan Squadron would be stationed there — a unit for which the Emperor always had a special assignment. Including one whose preparations should not be observed by too many eyes.
"Is the construction of the Lord proceeding according to schedule?" The computer embedded in the tabletop beeped with the sound of an incoming message. Bane skimmed the report addressed to him by the head of Incom Corporation. Without looking at his interlocutor — Lieutenant Olin, a former Jedi whom the Emperor had tasked with guarding the Lehon system with its namesake planet and the Empire's jewel, the New Forge — Vikmar quickly typed a reply and sent it, never losing the thread of Ferus's report for a single moment. "Keep an eye on this Ashaa and regularly inspect the 'batteries' arriving to you for any possible escape devices."
The former Jedi was a relative newcomer among the guardsmen. Though he had undergone initiation and his mind was open to the Emperor's thoughts, the captain had not yet learned to trust this man unconditionally. The construction of the Emperor's flagship — and indeed the entire Imperial fleet's flagship — was essentially his first assignment. And depending on how Ferus Olin handled it, the Emperor would decide whether he would continue his service or take the place of one of the "batteries."
"Adgar?"
"Everything according to plan," the man replied quietly — a former Jedi who had not wished to take part in the Clone Wars on the side of the rotten Republic. He and hundreds of other idealists like him had left the Order, laying down their weapons and renouncing the title of Jedi. Some had later been found and won over to their side. For the most part, they now served under the former Jedi Master, now Lieutenant of the Imperial Guard.
A large detachment of guardsmen under Lieutenant Adgar's command was currently establishing itself in a sector of the galaxy known as Sith Space, where they were to ensure the security of the Emperor's Citadel on Dromund Kaas, oversee the Dromund Kalakar shipyards, the headquarters of Darth Malgus's troop contingent on Korriban, and much more. Also under his command was Titan Squadron, composed of gifted ace pilots.
"Problems with Darth Malgus?"
"None at all. He doesn't interfere in our affairs. We don't make his life difficult."
"Aysaru?" Vikmar shifted his attention.
Aysaru Olin oversaw operations on the planet Belsavis. A prison world, chosen for this purpose by the ancient Rakata, it now lay in ruins. Most of its systems had failed several thousand years ago, but at least half of the cells still functioned. And they held prisoners — ancient Sith Lords and fallen Jedi in stasis. All of them were a potential resource. Either for the Empire's service. Or for the New Forge's furnace. The former Senate Guard was to separate the wheat from the chaff. And he was succeeding.
"The Esh-kha are seriously hindering our work," the lieutenant reported, his face expressionless. "As soon as we clear the rubble and gain access to a new section, they try to infiltrate it by any means possible."
"Reason?"
"They claim it is the will of the Mother Machine."
"Is the modification complex under our control?"
"As are forty percent of the known prison sections."
"Esh-kha and Mother Machine interference in the Emperor's affairs is unacceptable. Develop a plan for the forceful elimination of the obstruction."
"Already working on it."
"I'll contact Admiral Block and send you additional stormtrooper units. Urai?"
Urai Fen — perhaps the only guardsman whose origins were even more shrouded in mystery than the others' commanded the security of the Emperor's residence on Manaan. At the same time, he and his men conducted screening among gifted Selkath, selecting the most promising for subsequent training on Tython.
"The Selkath have restored the stronghold and are finishing the installation of communications," Fenn reported. He was the only guardsman who did not wear a standard helmet and equipment, and did not use light weapons. However, such was the Emperor's will. Because, in addition to his primary tasks, Urai also trained a handful of acolytes "for special assignments." Namely, liquidators — services no state concerned with internal stability could do without. "Kolto extraction is proceeding at an accelerated pace. Workers have completed the installation of defensive orbital stations. Two Republic spy clones with code designations X-1 and X-2 have been identified."
"Execute them."
"They are Force-sensitive."
"Interesting," Bane assessed. "Why wasn't this reported immediately?"
"The information was communicated to the Lord personally."
"Did he express his will?"
"Yes."
"What is the status of execution?"
"We are working on it."
"Report the results regularly," Vikmar said, preparing to move on to the next guardsman. However, through the Force, he sensed skepticism emanating from Urai.
"Do you have something to ask, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir. The Emperor is unavailable..." Fenn hesitated slightly. "Who should I report the progress to?"
"If the Lord does not reappear before the results of the spy operation are obtained," the answer came quickly, "report to me personally."
In the Emperor's absence, Vikmar handled all affairs on Zakuul — political and economic alike. Not to mention military. No one had anticipated a situation like this, so a political structure capable of speaking on the Emperor's behalf during periods when communication with him was lost had simply never been created.
The Captain of the Guard was acutely aware that currently only his subordinates and the Force-sensitives closest to the Emperor knew that contact with him had been severed — which could mean absolutely anything. From the Lord's death to his capture and isolation from the Force. The military, engineers, scientists — all of them continued their work, knowing absolutely nothing about what was happening. As long as the Emperor's disappearance remained a secret, the Empire kept its gears turning as if nothing had happened. But if rumors leaked, the public would begin to grumble. Not to mention that the military could tear the Empire apart. Of course, the Guard and the stormtroopers personally loyal to the Emperor would destroy anyone who even dared to think about privatizing the slightest piece of the state. But that was a last resort.
"Captain Ralinai. Your turn."
A middle-aged young woman with long blonde hair, despite her fragile figure and pretty, non-threatening appearance, was one of the most dangerous opponents Vikmar had ever known in his entire life.
A former Jedi Master, an excellent pilot and fencer who had enjoyed considerable respect among the established members of the Order, she had left it shortly before the start of the Clone Wars, joining the Jensaarai. Embracing the Dark Side had made her an even more formidable opponent — despite the fact that the Jensaarai leader himself understood very little of what he tried to instill in his followers. The Tython Academy had elevated her talents to a higher level.
It was no wonder the Emperor had made her the guardian of the Empire's throne world — a moon of Yavin 4, which, like the Gordian Reach itself — where the Emperor's personal treasury, his numerous laboratories, secret archives, and a number of secrets unknown even to the guardsmen were located — belonged to the category of "Closed Territories." But unlike the others — Sith Space, Belsavis, Lehon, the Maw, and some others — access to the Gordian Reach was closed to everyone. Only the Emperor could grant anyone permission to visit this cluster. However, in Vikmar's memory, there had been no such cases since those systems were occupied by the Empire.
Perhaps it was a dubious acquisition. Despite the Reach's discovery many thousands of years ago, most of its systems had not been developed or even fully explored. People had settled in the Arda system, but lived in isolation from the rest of the galaxy. They didn't care about the Republic or the Confederacy. And they regarded the Empire with great suspicion. At least, until several Harrower-class Star Destroyers appeared in their orbit. The Guard conveyed the "Empire's policy" to the locals, backing up their promises with a much harder currency. Thus, the Guard had reined in the Strenax race — winged humanoid creatures that constantly caused trouble for their nearest neighbors. Particularly for the colonists on Arda-II. The locals believed that one day the Strenax would attack them and massacre them. They hadn't done so only because, in ancient times, they had lost some idol and had sworn not to fly until they found it. However, this didn't stop them from "dropping in" on Zeltros to visit the local hedonists and demonstrating their own love mentality — coupled with extreme cruelty — to the pliable, pleasure-seeking inhabitants.
Ralinai had distinguished herself from the general body of guardsmen stationed on Yavin 4 after discovering some structure that had interested the Emperor himself. He had elevated her, granting her a rank equivalent to that held by the head of the Imperial Guard himself, and essentially appointed her as Bane's deputy. This position allowed the woman not only to avoid reporting to her direct commander, Vikmar, but also to dictate her will to various Guard units.
Ralinai had taken over a hundred of the "young blood" selected from Academy students or captured gifted individuals who had undergone initiation — under her wing. Obviously, they were all now loitering around the Gordian Reach, but how many of them were actually there, what they were doing, and what was happening in that star cluster — that was a mystery even greater than how the Emperor managed to keep control over such a vast territory secret, literally under the noses of the opposing factions.
"My report is intended only for the Emperor," the woman said in a tone that left no illusions that Vikmar would hear any details. In fact, he hadn't intended to press for them. He was merely observing the formalities of the principle of unified command.
"It's enough for me to know that there are no problems in your area of responsibility requiring outside intervention," the captain said. "You can report the details to the Emperor in person when he becomes available."
"Everything is proceeding in accordance with the Emperor's designs," the only woman in the room said after a pause. "I also want to inform you that I will need another two dozen guardsmen from the 'young blood.'"
"They will be provided," Vikmar assured her.
"I'm taking one of the Gauntlet-class tactical ships," the woman continued. "And fifty dreadnoughts."
"That has been coordinated with the Emperor," Vikmar confirmed. "The ships are awaiting you in orbit of the Red Moon."
Zakuul had three moons.
The White Moon, where the headquarters, training centers, and all manner of infrastructure of the Imperial Security Bureau — the law enforcement agency of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul, dealing with state security, espionage, counterintelligence, and public loyalty — were located. That was where the filtration camps for new arrivals who had passed initial screening by field agents were situated.
The Blue Moon, entirely covered in oceans and rocky continents more resembling islands, was given over to the Imperial Medical Center — a vast conglomerate of various educational, treatment, and preventive institutions, whose sole purpose was caring for the health of the Empire's growing population.
And finally, the Red Moon. There sat the headquarters of the fleet based in the system. In fact, no military vessel could proceed beyond this orbital position without proper authorization. Unless, of course, it wished to meet the turbolaser cannons of the numerous defense stations and patrol ships.
All military musters of fleets took place at the Red Moon — both those transiting through the system and those based there.
In total, the Eternal Empire's fleet numbered six Gauntlet-class tactical ships, one of which had been modernized at Rendili to serve as a mobile dock for Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers. One such ship each was under the command of Grand Admiral Thrawn, Admiral Block, Asajj Ventress, and Darth Malgus. The Unconquered was permanently on watch in orbit of the Red Moon, serving not only as a mobile command post but also as a dock — damaged Dreadnaughts from Thrawn's fleet, needing minor repairs, arrived in the system from time to time.
And now, the second tactical ship, along with most of the Dreadnaughts stationed in the Zakuul system, was departing for the Gordian Reach. Of course, this would significantly weaken the capital's own defenses, but... Who was he to dispute an order coming directly from the Emperor? Even if his intentions were expressed through the Captain of the Guard's lips.
"Anything else?"
"Yes. I'm informing you that in the near future, my people will conduct recruitment operations on Wasskah — a moon of the planet Trandosha in the Kashyyyk system — on Bespin, on S'kytri, Eol Sha, and Firrerre in their respective systems."
"We have no people in those systems," Vikmar Bane replied without a moment's hesitation.
There existed an obligation among commanders of various armed Imperial units to warn colleagues about "operations" in their area of responsibility, to avoid incidents.
The Guard had similar principles.
"With that, we are finished," Vikmar announced, thereby dismissing his subordinates. There was no need to ask if they had any questions. Of course not — if they did, those who had them would have voiced them.
After his subordinates left his office, he used electronics to lock the entrance door and proceeded to an inconspicuous wall panel. Like all the others, it was made of neutronium, possessing a density so high that even Force-sensitives could not detect cavities within it using the Force.
The secret door swung open as soon as he activated the hidden mechanism. Stepping into the adjacent room, he lowered himself into a chair facing numerous monitors depicting various sentient beings. Some of them were currently in the Citadel dungeons, connected to the Emperor's machines. The initiation process for most of them had barely begun. And although everything had gone according to plan before, now that contact with the Emperor was broken, there was no guarantee that these beings would become full-fledged guardsmen. The Emperor's mental connection with each new convert was invariably established during the breaking of their body and consciousness, and had to be continuous — to remain so forever.
But since the process was already disrupted...
The Captain of the Imperial Guard had to be certain of his subordinates' loyalty to their master.
"Halt the procedure," he ordered, activating the microphone. "Place the subjects in stasis and prepare them for transport."
A pair of silent guardsmen, appearing in the frame, began disconnecting the unconscious test subjects from the apparatus.
Such a waste of valuable material.
But the Imperial Guard could not take risks.
Besides, the New Forge could always use new "batteries."
* * *
The sound of footsteps echoed hollowly through the hall of the Father's dwelling.
I walked along the familiar platform toward the far end of the giant chamber.
Clad in my Jedi Knight armor with its invariably black-and-silver cloak, a hood pulled over my head. A pair of my blades hung at my belt, and Revan's lightsaber was secured on my back. A couple of grenades, several bacta tanks, a personal shield generator.
Would all this simple arsenal help me get out of here alive? Oh, I don't know. But I'll fight to the end.
The Father seemed not to have moved an inch since our conversation.
He was still lounging, taking small, slow steps as he paced the edge of the central platform, his hands clasped behind his back. His face expressed no emotion — in fact, he most likely felt none. Even with the Force, I couldn't discern his mood. Nor could I tell whether he knew anything about what had happened in the intervening time.
"You have returned," the Father stated.
"As you can see," I shrugged. "What's with all these obvious statements? You knew it would happen."
"I suspected," the Celestial replied vaguely. "The future is always in motion; it's impossible to say for certain what will happen in the next instant."
"And I thought the keeper of the Balance was the only Force adept capable of reliably foreseeing the future..."
"I know enough," the old man fixed me with a gaze that promised nothing good. "I know about your meetings with the Daughter and the Son."
"It's not nice to spy," I had to remind the old man of the obvious. "Especially spying on your own daughter... You shouldn't be so distrustful."
"Your intimacy means nothing to her," steel notes sounded in the old man's voice. "You are not the first, and far from the last, representative of a lower life form with whom she has shared and will share her bed. The flesh is weak by its very nature. So don't think you can influence my decision in any way."
"Yes, the life hack of sleeping with the daughter to get what you want from her daddy doesn't work in this universe," I lamented. "So, you won't allow me to leave Mortis and continue my mission?"
"Not until you become a conduit of my will," the Father confirmed my suspicions.
Well, old man, God bless you, the Force knows I wanted to part ways peacefully.
"Then why are we having this conversation just the two of us?" I asked. "Shouldn't we be working closely together — you, me, the Daughter, the Son?"
"They have nothing to do with my plans," the Father said sharply. A flash of understanding crossed his eyes — understanding of what was really happening. Because behind my back, I heard the flapping of wings.
"They're earlier than I expected," a sour expression froze on the Father's face. Yes, my gaunt, long-bearded friend. You wanted to pull off some shady business on the sly? Not gonna happen.
True, the Daughter's appearance wasn't part of my plan.
Apparently, the Son had decided to play his own hand.
Very inconvenient. I'd have to put the main course on hold until I figured out what was going on.
"How can this be, Father?" the Son asked with feigned surprise, circling me to my left. Meanwhile, his sister walked impassively past me on the right, not even deigning to look my way. Oh, look at you, Miss Prim and Proper. Strong and independent, are we? "I thought we were a Family. Such fateful decisions should be made together."
"My conversation with Egor is none of your concern," the Father said, following the Son with his eyes.
"Why?" the Daughter asked an obvious question. "Don't the affairs of the galaxy concern us?"
"Don't we do all your dirty work for you?" the Son began to heat up. "Or are we not worthy of knowing your secrets?"
"You yourselves chose your path," the Father said sharply. "You became avatars of Light and Dark, instead of..."
"Instead of what?" the Son asked impatiently. "Sitting around doing nothing like you? Remaining in eternal harmony?"
"Creating the Chosen Ones?" the Daughter clarified. Catching the Father's clearly puzzled look, she pointed a finger at me. "Why does he, an ordinary being, know your secret, while we, your children, those you created in your own image and likeness, and that of your own Force, must remain in ignorance?"
"Sometimes, to protect children from danger, you should not tell them everything," the Father said meaningfully, looking at me very, very unkindly. I could swear that now I wouldn't leave Mortis alive under any circumstances.
Which meant it was time to flip the table and shuffle all the cards.
"You know," I said, clearing my throat to get their attention. "I've been wondering — why does your trio take me for an idiot?"
The Celestials stared at me with questioning looks.
"You're like a snake pit on a budget. Everyone's trying to get something they don't have. Everyone tells me half-truths, tries to make me their supporter. And you're all trying to steer me away from Vitiate. As if some ghost could actually cause trouble that your trio of fine fellows couldn't fix. As if it might happen that I completely lose my mind and can't connect all the threads of what's going on?"
"What are you talking about?" the Daughter asked.
"I'm talking about the fact that you're a bunch of moral degenerates," I sighed. "Sorry for my bluntness, of course. But you, Daughter, tell the truth. Is your real name Yun-Txiin or Yun-K'aa?"
"Yun-K'aa," she said, frowning slightly. "Yun-Txiin is the Son's name."
Then, hearing a snake-like hiss from the Father, the Celestial realized she had said something she shouldn't have. A moment of tense silence hung in the air, and only then did it dawn on her. And the imperturbability on the Daughter's face cracked: her eyes flew open so wide you could park a speeder in them.
"Well, now everything has fallen into place," I sighed, looking at the Daughter and the Son. "So, you are the Lover Gods. And you, therefore," I pointed at the Father, "are Yun-Yuuzhan?"
The old man remained imperturbably silent.
"You don't have to answer. It's clear enough," I nodded. "Yes, you really messed with my head, folks. This is a total paradigm shift..."
"This changes nothing," the Son exhaled. "Our plan..."
"Go fuck yourself, you amateur maniac," I waved him off. "I never wanted to have anything to do with you, and I still don't. But thanks for telling me where I could find the Dagger of Mortis. My girls have already gotten their grubby little hands on it."
A cry of despair escaped the Daughter's chest.
"You showed him the Sanctuary?!" the Father roared.
"Why?" the Daughter asked, her voice strained. "Why did you betray us?"
"I betrayed us?" the Son said, his voice full of venom, then pointed a finger at the Father. "He keeps us imprisoned, Sister! For millennia, we've been locked up here, in complete isolation from the world, under his absolute power!"
"This was done for your own good!" the head of the family snarled.
"If that's the case," I inquired innocently, "then why are you lying to your own children?"
The next second, the Father swept his hand, clenching his palm into a fist, and my throat was caught in the grip of an invisible hand. My blood instantly boiled, deprived of oxygen, and a roar filled my head. The picture before my eyes blurred, and my body stopped obeying.
Oh, crap. I definitely wasn't ready for this turn of events — a Vader cosplay. Falling to my knees, I frantically called upon the Force, trying to break the choking bonds. But without any result. The old man, despite all his decrepitude, was no slouch.
An absolutely shitty situation.
"What is he talking about, Father?" the Daughter asked excitedly. The Son, whose eyes blazed with hellfire, without uttering a single word, hurled a sheaf of scarlet lightning at the father, causing the bearded Celestial to roll away like a log. "What are you doing?!"
"I want to know what this bug is saying!" the Son roared, watching as I gasped for air and got to my feet. "Don't you want to know the truth?"
"You're ready to believe him?" the Father said wearily, rising from the floor. "The one who himself admitted that he abused your trust?"
"As if he's the only one here who's done that?" the Son ground his teeth, looking at me. "Speak, and you'll live a few more minutes!"
"You're all fucking nuts," I wheezed. "No wonder the Yuuzhan Vong are absolute brainless young'uns. With gods like these..."
"That was a long time ago," the Daughter shook her head. "We were young and didn't understand our mistakes..."
"Tell that to someone dumber than me," I said, getting to my feet, and in the same second surrounded myself with a Force Barrier. The most powerful one I was capable of creating.
And just in time, because the Son's next burst of fury was unleashed on me. Crimson clots of the Dark Side crashed against my defense, nearly tearing it to shreds, but he picked the wrong target.
The entire planet Mortis is one big reservoir of the Force. Which I was now shamelessly drawing energy from to feed the Barrier.
"And you're impatient," I noted, addressing the Son. "With that kind of composure, you'll definitely never finish off your dad."
"You intend to kill Father?" the Daughter was horrified. The red-eyed one didn't have time to answer her, because in the next instant he was knocked off his feet by a blast of Force sufficient to vaporize the sloop I'd arrived on. The Son, tumbling over backward, slammed into the wall of the hall and crumpled motionless to the floor.
"Father, what are you doing?" the Daughter shrieked, seeing the enraged old man watching with satisfaction as his attack on his own child succeeded.
The Daughter, realizing her father had no intention of talking, tried to cast some spell from her personal kung-fu arsenal, but her parent beat her to it, repeating the same procedure he'd done with the Son. The two-meter-tall woman, after a heavy impact, collapsed face-first onto the floor.
Meanwhile, the exhausted Father, with undisguised rage streaming from his eyes, dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.
"Too old for this shit?" I inquired.
"I have enough strength to finish you off," the Father assured me.
"As you can see," I tapped my breastplate with a smile, "still alive."
"Not after I cut you off from the Force of Mortis," the old man hissed angrily. He shot quick glances at his children, who were already starting to stir, and with a furious howl, spreading his arms wide, invisibly pinned them both to the floor. "You turned my children against me!"
"That was the plan," I shrugged. "I couldn't beat you alone. But with the help of the Son and the Daughter..."
"They won't join you," the Father assured me, his face contorted with effort.
"We'll see," I grinned, "whose side they take when they hear how you've been leading them by the nose for millennia, pulling off your machinations with the Force. How you created the Chosen One to control them and keep them in line, locking them in the Monolith and only releasing them when needed to maintain the so-loved-by-you Equilibrium. Which, in turn, is nothing more than a lie and a fairy tale for degenerates."
"That's a lie!" the Father roared, unleashing something resembling a Force Wave at me. But whether he miscalculated or didn't have a large reserve of power, his attack didn't cause me much harm. Just pushed me back a couple of meters and practically destroyed the Barrier. Good thing I have an inexhaustible supply of Force. Thank you, Mother Machine, for the upgrade — I can ignore everyone and draw as much Force as I want. As long as there's somewhere to draw it from.
But for my plan, I needed to buy more time. And drive the wedge deeper between the members of this Addams Family.
"Don't you want to know where you slipped up?" I inquired, watching the Son unsuccessfully drench the invisible dome pinning him to the floor with scarlet lightning. The Daughter was trying to do the same thing, using her telekinetic arsenal.
"I don't care," the Father's teeth grinding echoed through the hall. "With your death, it won't matter anyway."
"Then I should definitely tell you about my conclusions," I smiled. "Or you can let me go on my way and not interfere with my plans."
My answer was the father's strained panting as he, soaked in sweat, tried to hold both his children. And they, seeing their parent's lawlessness, only intensified their attacks.
"Oh well, no means no," I shrugged. "Correct me if I'm wrong. So, the homeland of your freak family and incest lovers is the planet Iokath. And you appeared quite far from the Unknown Regions, and all these myths about the Family's birth in this galaxy were created by you to avoid complications. You know, just in case someone found out what kind of crap you and your kin were up to before. For example, what if someone besides your battle droids survived in the Yuuzhan Vong's home galaxy. Or maybe they didn't completely annihilate each other in mutual destruction. Or perhaps someone would learn that it was your race that was burning worlds in Wild Space and decide to confront you... But I'm being too superficial. Do you mind if I start from the beginning?"
"Shut your mouth, worm!" the Father growled. He was no longer trying to appear enlightened; he'd simply turned himself into a conduit of the Force, starting to glow like a Christmas tree with each passing minute. The children drew Force from Mortis to break their father's tricks. They'd already managed to stand up, but the Father pressed them against the walls, surrounding them with a Force Barrier. To hold them, he was drawing from the same source of Force. And this process was gaining momentum with every moment.
The Father clearly had no time for me. Which meant it was time to shine with my erudition.
"As I already said, your race is the inhabitants of the planet Iokath. Disgusting creeps who spent their entire lives creating some wonder weapon capable only of destruction. And so, in the galaxy where the Yuuzhan Vong people lived and thrived, you created two races of droids — just for fun, to see which of your design bureaus was better. And you didn't care that the entire galaxy became their battlefield — you just sat on Iokath, watching the interstellar zombie-box, and got your jollies from watching another people die. Am I getting it right so far?"
"Nonsense!" fatigue was audible in the Father's voice. "You have no proof!"
"Of course," I agreed. "This is all my inference, gleaned from what I knew before arriving in this galaxy, what I learned from that sneaky bastard Vitiate — who also didn't tell me everything he knew — and you and your brats provided food for thought. Well, let's continue. At some point, the Yuuzhan Vong's planet, Yuuzhan'tar, got in the way of your war machines. The local organics took a serious beating from the rampaging Skynet, were blown away by such a first contact, and said goodbye to their peaceful and carefree lives. They started breaking your dummies with their organic technologies. Which, in turn, made you seriously freak out. And you decided to find out what was going on. Well, who would the locals tell everything to, if not their gods? I don't know if they had deities before this, or if you created them, but one way or another, you insinuated yourselves among them. You talked, found out what you needed to do a postmortem, and decided to screw the guys over. And in the most barbaric way — you deprived them of the Force. But not as ungodly as you later did with the Killiks in our galaxy. But with true barbaric pleasure — with pain, sadism, and other delights from the 'BDSM without coitus' category."
"Vile lie!" the Son shouted. "The Yuuzhan Vong easily destroyed both droid races, using the Force as a weapon. In ways even we couldn't! They had to be stopped! Not allowed to break out of the galaxy. We destroyed them to avoid bringing even more pain to the galaxy!"
"Well, there's some specifics," I approved. "You saw someone had better toys than yours, so you decided to take them. Good job. However, I have a vague suspicion that you're trying to bullshit me again. You see, with all three of you, almost like Vitiate, every time you open your mouths, a chorus of voices comes out. Except he got that feature after absorbing the life of an entire world single-handedly. And I bet you performed roughly the same operation on the Yuuzhan Vong people. Only you didn't exterminate them completely; you sucked all the Force out of them. But, as I understand it, in the midst of all this bacchanalia, Yuuzhan'tar managed to preserve its seed — Zonama Sekot — which it sent far away from the furry disaster unfolding. And you, getting cold feet that this might come back to bite you — like, what if that little planet had an even more terrible weapon that could Exterminatus not just some droids, but their creators, namely you, you frantically wrapped everything up, finally leaving the Yuuzhan Vong to fight each other with organic sticks and stones, and then chased after Zonama Sekot. And you arrived in our galaxy. Where, in your favorite manner, you started burning worlds whose inhabitants had any contact with it..."
"We were eliminating potential hotspots for the emergence of the Yuuzhan Vong," the Father noted. "Places where they could establish colonies, a bridgehead for invasion..."
"You said we were destroying races as dangerous as the Vong themselves, to avoid repeating our mistakes!" the Son roared, pounding his fists against the barrier.
"You've been lying to us, Father," the Daughter said in disbelief. "We've destroyed trillions..."
"I can just picture you discussing this with each other aboard your beautiful world-ship Iokath," I smirked. "But I'd bet my life that back then, the Father played no small role on your home planet. And was the author of this beautiful, and most importantly, 'reliable' solution. Dividing by zero all those races that didn't want to serve you in the search and destruction of Zonama Sekot... a bit too flashy. But not effective. One way or another, you and your brethren continued to destroy billions of sentients who opposed their enslavement. I think the Sharu race buried themselves underground for that very reason — to get as far away from the insane Celestials as possible. And you still lost Zonama Sekot. I think it was after that that your disagreements with the rest of Iokath's inhabitants began. Which eventually led to a civil war and the subsequent self-annihilation of the latter."
"That's not how it happened at all," the Father objected hotly. "Our people did everything so that the Yuuzhan Vong would become more perfect than themselves, reach the pinnacle of evolution! Endless conflicts helped them in this. But we were wrong. They turned out to be too perverted and desired to use the Force only as a weapon. And we deprived them of it! Their organic technologies are too dangerous for everyone! We merely put an end to their desire to conquer free peoples!"
"You just gave them the motivation to start a crusade," I remarked calmly. "Typical Celestial wisdom: we'll help you — we'll destroy you."
"That can't be," the Daughter was stunned. "Father, you said they were dead!"
"Liar!" the Son roared. "You deceived us then and kept deceiving us for hundreds of thousands of years!"
"What's more," I smirked, "the entire Yuuzhan Vong are flying here right now. Following the trail of their offenders..."
"They won't break through the gravity barrier!" the Father noted. He seemed completely uninterested in what his children were saying about him. He was staring straight at me, not trying to attack... Why not? "Not a single hyperdrive works in its area of effect. And without the Force, they'll never find a loophole to overcome it!"
"And yet, they're on their way," I grinned. "Forty-five years and they'll be here. They'll sweep through the galaxy with fire and sword. Apparently, they have plenty of motives to drop by. They're looking for a new home, and they want revenge on their offenders. It's no wonder they'll carve out a third of the galaxy — just out of spite. Because your idiotic behavior led to them becoming moral bastards who accept pain as a given and believe the whole galaxy should suffer as they suffered! Because you stripped them of the Force!"
"You said it would kill them," the Daughter said with tears in her eyes. "You said it was an act of supreme mercy..."
"And you still wonder why I want to kill him?!" the Son shouted. "He's no better than those senile idiots on Iokath who killed each other trying to create an even more powerful weapon..."
"Yes, most likely they were trying to create a new weapon to end the Vong threat once and for all. But something went wrong, and they killed each other. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if you had a hand in it — it's no coincidence that Iokath perished, while you and your children continued to live. And even built yourselves a new home — another Dyson sphere, just like Iokath was. Just on a smaller scale."
"Is it true, Father?" the Daughter asked. "Are you responsible for the death of our people?"
"We disagreed about the fate of this galaxy," he hissed. "They wanted to stop all experiments. To leave the Unknown Regions and start over in another galaxy. Regardless of how many resources had been spent on raising new races here. Teaching them to use the Force! To abandon what had been built over millennia!"
"So it's plain greed," I realized. "And here I was thinking it was something completely different. That your kin turned against you when they found out you created Abeloth. She is the Servant. She is the Mother."
"What?" the Son was stunned. "You had a hand in that too?"
"But you said it all happened by accident!" the Daughter recalled. "That she touched the forbidden on her own, not wanting to leave us..."
"Don't listen to him!" the Father snarled. I could feel him starting to weaken. Opposing two powerful Force adepts at once was proving too much for him. But as amusing as this whole spectacle was, I needed to hurry. The Son and Daughter had certainly started thinking that their daddy wasn't as white and fluffy as they'd thought. True, my conclusions weren't over yet. I could see that I'd found a grateful audience in the two young Celestials. They'd had questions and grievances against the Father before, and hearing my theories, their outraged minds were boiling with renewed vigor. No worries, we hadn't even gotten to the most important part yet.
"You know, I couldn't understand for a long time," I admitted. "Why you needed Abeloth. It would seem, since she provokes bloodshed, which you use for the supposed development of the galaxy, culling the weak and advancing the strong, why create your complete antipode? After all, what you do could easily be arranged using Iokath's technology. The Eternal Fleet, the Gods of Iokath — sentient machines capable of destroying all life in the galaxy... your home planet has hundreds of wonder weapons capable of plunging the galaxy into war. That's probably why the other Celestials didn't understand your action. And you didn't want to back down from your point of view. So you made sure they killed each other."
Apparently, my logical deductions and conjectures were very close to the truth. Because the Father exploded.
"None of them understood that by testing sentients with our weapons, forcing them to fight our technology, we were repeating the same mistake we made with the Yuuzhan Vong!" the Father shouted. "Confrontation with an external enemy, one excessively strong, only embitters, and there's no chance for proper development! The conflicting parties must be in roughly equal conditions for evolution to continue! Times have changed, and it's no longer enough to simply destroy races, hoping they'll rise from the ruins stronger. The others didn't want to acknowledge this! With the Eternal Fleet, they intended to destroy the entire population of this galaxy in a vain hope of tracking down and destroying Zonama Sekot! Its destruction would have allowed them to cover all traces of their existence! Scorch the galaxy to ashes, and move on to another, leaving the Eternal Fleet here to await the arrival of the Yuuzhan Vong, who would be unable to oppose it and would all die here! That's why I created the 'Gravestone,' and defeated the Eternal Fleet with its help. And then turned the Gods of Iokath against their creators! Stopped them! Set the Gods upon Iokath and put an end to my race's shortsightedness!"
"Even Moses would envy your cunning ass," I assessed.
A brief history lesson. The Eternal Fleet existed long before the whole Sith-Jedi mess began. It was an armada of thousands of ships, armed with the latest Iokath technology. Each starship was controlled by a GEMINI droid, which I'm now using as central computers on spacecraft in my fleet. With the necessary reprogramming, of course.
So, the Eternal Fleet, in the distant past, destroyed every sentient civilization it encountered. Now I understand why. But at some point, the "Gravestone" appeared — a solitary but extremely powerful warship, capable of opposing the Eternal Fleet, and even successfully destroying its constituent ships. Moreover, the "Gravestone" was an avatar of Zildrog, one of the Gods of Iokath — a super-weapon created on Iokath in the form of enormous droids with colossal destructive power. For a long time, I thought the inhabitants of Iokath had killed each other in a civil war, competing for first place in the Special Olympics for Degenerates, figuring out whose weapon was better. Yeah, thanks, Vitiate — you expertly filled my head with shit, hiding the most important thing. That bastard definitely knew everything I'd just dumped on the Family.
My last doubts about the ex-Sith Emperor's dirty game vanished. He knew everything — he couldn't not have known. He personally knew Zildrog, had dealings with him — the Hutt's God helped him perform the ritual on Nathema. He probably also told Vitiate the location of the Eternal Fleet, which he then subjugated and used to create his own Eternal Empire of Zakuul, which was supposed to replace the Sith Empire that had failed its creator.
"The whole difference is in the creative approach, isn't it?" I asked the Father. "Your tribesmen thought experiments with lesser races should be conducted using technology, while you thought it should be done using the Force? Because you liked feeling omnipotent after you took all the Force from the Vong, didn't you?"
"We are the superior race!" the Father roared, with incredible effort slamming the Son, who had broken free of his trap, back down. "The Force belongs to us! To me! I am the Lord of the Force! And the fate of this galaxy is in my hands!"
"You're weak, old man!" the Son shouted. "And you've been out of your mind for a long time! Your time is ending, and the Force is leaving you!"
"Your villainy will come to an end!" the Daughter declared decisively. "You'll no longer push us around! We will leave Mortis, and you won't be able to stop us!"
"Oh, he will," I chuckled. "It's no coincidence he created Abeloth. It's not so easy to create a new Celestial when the only female individual is your own Daughter. So why not seduce an ordinary sentient woman? And so she wouldn't fall apart while carrying a Celestial's energy being, you had to make her like yourself."
"This is blasphemy!" the Son cried out. "You've violated every law you yourself created!"
"Oh, look who's talking," I smirked. "You yourself were screwing your own sister."
"What?!" It was the Father's turn to be Celestially stunned. With a face twisted in rage, he squeezed his children with the Force, clearly intending to end their existence. "You... how dare you?!"
"You told him?!" the Son roared, turning to his clearly shell-shocked sister.
"No!" she said, not very convincingly. "He couldn't have known that!"
"And yet I know it," I shrugged. "Suspicions arose when, after the Daughter's death, the Son visited her grave and said she was the only one he'd ever loved. Not to mention that the Dathomirian witches from the Night Sisters clan called you the Divine Twins. And after you fell for the provocation and spoke your real names — the Lover Gods from the Yuuzhan Vong pantheon — there was no doubt left. The only question was whether your daddy knew. Turns out he didn't.
But I'm sure he suspected. It's no coincidence he decided to create a new Celestial by knocking up the Servant.
Someone who could rein you in when his life ended. And he even made you call her, the Servant, nothing less than Mother."
"My grave?" the Daughter's surprise was boundless. Which was understandable.
"The very one," I confirmed. "Your daddy, whose ability to see the future, thanks to his magnificent method of keeping one foot in both camps, didn't tell you the most important thing. His wonderful little boy — Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One — will fly here at the Father's call and cause a real ruckus with interesting consequences. He'll first incite the Son to go against the Father, and the Daughter to reveal the location of the Dagger to the Jedi. Then the Son will try to kill the Father to escape Mortis, but will kill the Daughter instead. And finally, to top it all off, the Father will kill himself with the same Dagger to take most of the Son's power, after which his so-beloved Anakin Skywalker will kill both the Son and the Father with his Jedi sword. Profit achieved. It's just unclear what you, so great and able to see tomorrow, hoped to achieve with this. Did you really expect Skywalker to stay here and keep the Son and Daughter on a short leash? Although, what interests me much more is why, after conceiving Anakin's essence with Abeloth, you placed the fruit in an ordinary human woman, Shmi Skywalker? The poor thing probably never understood how she got pregnant without knowing a man."
"Father, is this true?"
The Daughter, so disheartened that she'd stopped resisting the Father, hung like a limp doll, watching the old man who less and less resembled the philosophizing bearded guy from the cartoon.
"Can't you see that it is?"
But the Son, as befits a Sith, kept struggling against the Father's grip, with extreme energy. He thrashed, twisted, shot lightning, covering the entire part of the Father's abode he was in with a thick layer of soot.
"He's deceiving you!" the Father tried to reason with his children. "Everything I do..."
"You're a fucking liar, old man!" I shouted. "If you wanted to get rid of the Servant, in case she 'accidentally' got her powers, you'd have done it long ago! But otherwise, you'd have no reason to keep your brats here! Besides, Abeloth is a wonderful catalyst for conflict. You see the galaxy slowly going off-plan — you release the old lady, and boom, new bloodshed. You unleash the children when needed — and get the desired result. The weak die, the strong survive. Except it's working out pretty shitty for you — the Republic and the Jedi have only been degrading for the last millennium..."
"That's how it should be," the Father said, seizing the moment when the Daughter, filled with complete apathy, stopped any resistance, and switched his attention to me. The Barrier surrounding my body shattered into pieces, and in the same second, something like a house collapsed on me, slamming me into the floor so hard that not only my bones cracked, but the floor under me also rapidly began to fissure. Not to mention that my body was pressing through the extremely dense structure of the local flooring. "The Republic must fall for what it did to Iokath! The consequences of the destruction of my homeland must serve as a lesson for the entire population of the galaxy! You are all insignificant cockroaches whom my true heir, the Chosen One, will crush and... Aghr!!"
Simultaneously with the old man interrupting his angry monologue, the pressure on me disappeared. My body, like cotton wool, howled in pain. The Force told me there were a considerable number of, at best, cracks in the bones of my musculoskeletal system (in other words, my skeleton) — the only thing that would support me in any situation. Oh, I had a feeling it would take a lot of time to put myself back in order.
Thanking Karness Muur's knowledge once again — which had taught me, among other things, how to strengthen my own body through Force Forging — I got to my feet.
The Father, with a very substantial hole gaping in his chest, lay on the floor, watching me with a fading, hate-filled gaze.
"You will pay for this," he whispered as I approached.
"Undoubtedly," there was no point in denying the complex karmic connection in this universe. So I was mentally prepared for that proverbial brick to fall on my head someday. The main thing was to finish my endeavors before then. "But you certainly won't live to see it."
The Father's Force was dissipating like sugar sand caught in the wind. I absorbed much of it, drinking in the Celestial's energy, channeling it into healing my own body. I couldn't absorb it like a Force Ghost. My organism rejected it, like something foreign. So, after several unsuccessful attempts to take control of the Father's power, I gave up. What I had used to restore my body was enough. As for the rest... whatever. The main thing was that this Force wouldn't go to anyone else.
"My lord?" Kira asked me, still holding the Dagger of Mortis. "What now?"
Looking at the Daughter frozen in place, her dead gaze fixed on her Father's corpse, and the Son laughing triumphantly with that classic villainous cackle, I shook my head.
"Leave."
Carsen gave a short nod, cloaked herself with the Force, and instantly vanished into the space around us.
"Excellent, my young apprentice!" the Son proclaimed triumphantly, approaching me. "I admit, at first I thought you intended to break our agreement. Though it wasn't part of the original plan, I'm pleased..."
The Son placed his hand on my shoulder encouragingly, giving me a slight shake.
"Come. I can sense that the Force restraining me on Mortis is gone. We need to get to your ship! Great deeds await us..."
"Me," I had to correct the fool.
"What do you mean?" the Son frowned. "You remember — the galaxy is ours!"
"Mine," I corrected the Celestial again.
For some reason, exhaustion was washing over my body. Probably nerves. Because right up until the last moment, I hadn't believed it would actually work. That I could intrigue those idiots enough to shift their attention toward each other and not grind me into dust immediately. I hadn't believed that Kira's Concealment alone would be enough to hide her presence, let alone conceal the presence of a powerful Force artifact in the Temple from the Celestials. The Son had certainly proven that even Celestials with divided attention couldn't fully control the situation. But there was always the chance that the phantom creation trick had only worked because of the Son's sheer stupidity — too focused on his own scheme to pay attention to what was happening around him.
Yeah, the comedown was brutal. I was genuinely tempted to lie down and sleep for a few days.
But I couldn't. The multilayered plan wasn't complete yet.
The Son and Daughter were weakened — significantly, but not entirely. They were far from defenseless. I could feel the Son's aura as something faded, comparable to Skywalker or Yoda. But it didn't even begin to compare to the overwhelming power I'd sensed during my earlier encounters with the Daughter and Son. So...
"You vile bastard, daring to turn against me!" the Son snarled, raising his hands with clear intent to fry me with lightning. "Your fate will be decided right now!"
Bluish-violet streams of Force Lightning, having lost not only their intensity but even their color, splashed against my Force Barrier without causing any harm.
"Utter moron," I commented. "You told me yourself — without the Father, your power is much weaker."
"Enough for you!" he assured me, his eyes gleaming triumphantly as he pressed harder.
"And for you too," I said sadly, watching as Khem Val materialized behind the Son and severed the Celestial's head with a single blow.
The torrent of lightning stopped instantly. Even though it hadn't been harming me, its absence was a great relief.
The plan was nearing its end.
I instinctively reached for the Son's fading essence, trying to absorb it as well, but my body rejected the energy again. Very strange — it seemed the Celestials had a different nature to the Force. Or perhaps it was simply inaccessible to me. Either way, I didn't care. The important thing was that no one else would get it.
"So, you're not even going to try eating their corpses?" I asked the Dashade, gesturing at the bodies of the Father and Son.
"Alien Force," he said in disappointment. "Can't digest it..."
"Whatever you say, Shadow Killer," I replied, nodding toward the exit.
Khem Val glanced at the last representative of the ancient civilization and licked his lips hungrily.
"And the Daughter?"
"She's not your concern," I shook my head. "I'll deal with her myself. Help the commandos and the Hands finish mining the Monolith."
"Yes, master," the monster bowed, glanced at the girl frozen in one pose, and obediently strode toward the exit.
I knew how important the sacred ritual of destroying one's master's enemies was to my assassins' culture. I could feel Khem's triumph when he killed the Son. I could feel his disappointment when I told him about Kira's mission.
But I'd have to handle the last piece of this puzzle myself. It was only right.
Or was I just trying to convince myself? What the hell difference did it make at this point. I needed to finish the job and move on with my life. The gestalt had to be completed so it wouldn't repeat itself. The Celestials' story needed a period.
And who better to put it there than the one who'd authored the plan to destroy their power?
I approached the Celestial woman still sitting on the floor, her glowing aura faded, her appearance having lost its former luster and polish. I crouched down in front of her. The girl kept staring straight ahead, her vacant gaze fixed on the uniform surface of the floor.
Of the whole family, I felt sorry for her the most.
Because she was a hostage to circumstance, used without understanding. She had no ambitions of her own, unlike the Son. She had no plans for the galaxy, like her father and brother.
She lived, faithfully believing her parent was doing something good. She never doubted, never questioned. She only carried out his will.
"I'm sorry," I said. I had to admit I felt some guilt toward her. Mostly because I had used what she'd told me myself. I couldn't imagine being in her place even in my worst nightmares. First she was used, and then her entire family was killed. Anyone would lose their mind over that. I didn't know if she understood that I had no other choice, but...
For some reason, I wanted to justify myself to her — if only a little. To explain why I'd done it this way. But still, no apology or expression of condolences would erase what happened today.
No matter how much I'd hated my stepfather, no matter how frustrated I'd been by my mother's passivity — if someone had killed them before my eyes and then tried to say, "Hey, don't hold a grudge, it had to be done for the good of the galaxy," I wouldn't have understood. And I probably wouldn't have been able to grasp their motives.
"Words mean nothing," she said quietly in that same chorus of voices. But now, instead of its usual emotionless quality, she spoke with such universal sadness that it made my heart ache. "You proved that to me today yourself."
"It couldn't be done any other way," I said — a stupid phrase, of course, but the only one that reflected my motives at all. "Neither the Father nor the Son would have stopped..."
"And you decided you would do it yourself?" she asked with a joyless smile. "Destroy the last representatives of the most ancient civilization in the galaxy. And then what?"
"Return to the real world and continue my work."
"Finish Vitiate's plan like a faithful dog?" she clarified.
"No. My plan. Vitiate is not much different from the Father or the Son. Even if I don't fully understand his motives, they certainly don't promise anything good for me."
"You should be careful," the girl advised.
"I will be," the promise escaped on its own. And it fully reflected my state of mind. Indeed, Mortis had given me a lot to think about. I needed a calm environment to sort everything out completely and make decisive choices.
"Is it my turn now?" the girl asked tiredly, looking into my eyes. They held universal sadness, profound disappointment, and a complete lack of any meaningful desire. She had clearly lost the will to live after experiencing betrayal after betrayal. The veils of ancient secrets had been torn away before her eyes, horrifying her with what the closest being to her had done. That would break anyone — not just an ancient entity.
"Unfortunately, yes," I acknowledged, pulling a relatively small device from inside my cloak. "You have to understand: I can't leave you alive. Even now, having lost most of your power, you're still an extremely powerful being of the Light Side. I can't allow either side — Light or Dark — to gain the upper hand. For the same reason, Mortis must be destroyed."
"You'll need something stronger than that," she assured me, nodding toward the object I'd shown her. "Mortis is a concentration of the Force. Bombs alone won't take it."
"I know," I admitted. "As soon as my ship leaves Mortis, I'll summon all available ships from my fleet here. They won't stop until nothing remains of the Monolith that could be used against me or the galaxy."
"You'll have to face Abeloth," the Daughter reminded me. "Without my brother's power and mine, without the Father as a counterbalance, she will inevitably break free from the Maw, and then chaos will flood the galaxy."
"I have the Dagger of Mortis," I reminded her. "And the knowledge of how she was defeated in the events I know about is also a great help. I will burn everything that threatens my plan — Abeloth, her planet, the Pool of Knowledge and the Font... Not a trace of the Celestials' existence will remain, except for legends and rare artifacts that my agents will hunt down."
"So we'll fade into oblivion, leaving nothing behind?" the Daughter asked sadly.
"It's unpleasant to acknowledge, but yes," I said. I felt a pang in my chest.
Even though this wasn't the first genocide I had orchestrated, it was the first time I was looking into the eyes of the last representative of a race I was condemning to oblivion.
"Do what must be done," the Daughter said quietly. "I don't care anymore."
"I'm sorry it turned out this way," I said, not really hoping for absolution, and rose to my feet. The lightsaber leaped into my hand on its own. My thumb found the activation switch on its own, and the temple's emptiness filled with the hissing sound of the traditional weapon of the Force-sensitive in this galaxy.
"I understand everything," the girl assured me. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"I hope so too," I admitted awkwardly. Because I had no absolute certainty that I was doing the right thing, or that success awaited me. Everything in this galaxy was unpredictable.
A short swing of the yellow blade, and the headless body collapsed onto the temple floor. I waited until the faint glow emanating from the Celestial woman's torso faded completely, and the spark of her life dissolved entirely in the Force. Then, with a heavy sigh, I listened to my own feelings.
The echoes of the Daughter's Force presence, scattering through space like raindrops in a fading storm, marked the end of the elemental fury.
I returned my property to my belt — it had fulfilled its most extravagant purpose — and silently walked toward the exit.
Time to leave this damn planet. And if it didn't collapse after the Celestials' deaths like in the animated series, I'd scatter it across the entire sector.
Had I done the right thing?
Yes, most likely.
Could I have done it differently?
Yes, but I didn't want to.
Would this haunt me for the rest of my days?
Without a doubt, yes.
Would it stop me?
Absolutely not.
It was about time I got used to the fact that all great deeds in this galaxy were accomplished by complete bastards.
And not just in this galaxy...