Night had fallen over Coruscant.
Orbital mirrors projected the light of the local star onto the other half of the planet, where the daytime was just beginning to blaze.
But the Republic's capital never slept for a moment. Even if it wasn't visible at first glance.
A little over a year ago, Coruscant had been overflowing with life, awash in its own revelry. Nothing could disrupt the habitual way of life for the inhabitants of the capital world.
It seemed like it would always be that way.
But Geonosis had changed a lot.
And now, most of the air traffic at night consisted of military vessels. Patrol skimmers from the police and law enforcement units of the Grand Army of the Republic, clone assault gunships, various types of transport starships...
Grand Master of the Jedi Order Yoda stood on a tiny balcony, barely noticeable on the massive body of the Temple, serenely observing the night cityscape.
The Clone Wars, like mighty hands, had scattered the Jedi across the galaxy, so that only a few knights and masters were ever in the Temple at the same time. Even fewer — masters. If in the first year of the war the masters could gather at least half of their total number, now — by the Force's grace — at least Mace Windu and Even Piell were almost always on hand.
Of course, Yoda, the Order's Grand Master and military advisor to the Chancellor, holding the post of commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, spent almost all his time on Coruscant.
And now, any minute, he could return to the command center to hear another report from a Grand Moff or Jedi Master.
The small Jedi sighed with unusual sadness, processing the latest news in his head, among which there were practically none positive. And those that were positive were lost against the general background of galactic negativity.
The victory on Atracken — a bloody battle that had raged for almost nine months after the First Battle of Geonosis — was marred by the mass poisoning of the planet's biosphere, the deaths of most of its inhabitants, and the evacuation of the few survivors. Replacing the Kaminoan clones with Arkanian ones had helped break through the enemy defenses, but... the price of victory was too high.
Senator Amidala's rebellious attempt to conduct unauthorized negotiations with members of the Separatist Congress had predictably failed. Even worse — the CIS had responded with terror, destroying a power station on Coruscant, leaving the entire Senate quarter without power. Of course, the damage was repaired, but... none of the senators wanted to hear anything about peace negotiations. Especially in light of the rash actions of the same Amidala, who had gone to the active army to Master Dougan and interfered with his attempt to call General Grievous to account. What had that wise woman been thinking? For Yoda, it would forever remain a mystery. Queen Niutni, who had recently taken leadership of Naboo, had recalled the senator to her homeworld, and it remained only to guess whether Amidala would return to Coruscant in her former capacity, or whether another politician from Naboo would replace her. He could only hope that Master Fisto, who had gone there to ask the Gungans for help in conducting an operation on the Mon Calamari homeworld, would be able to resolve the emerging difficulties. Now, more than ever, the Jedi needed allies in the Senate. But they kept pulling stunts that made the little Jedi's neck hair stand on end and fly away, caught by gusts of wind.
Senator Organa's stunt from Alderaan had no less resonance in society. Perhaps even more. On one hand, it was a relief that Rendili, along with its enormous corporation, had not joined the Separatists. On the other hand, they had seceded from the Republic, demonstratively tearing up the contract for the construction of another batch of "Hammerheads" and returning the super-heavy turbolaser development data that had been transferred to them. Elder Aisel, with whom the Grand Master had spoken that morning, had only bitterly stated that while Christophsis had saved enormous funds, it was of little comfort to the Jedi. Because new ships for the system armies of Dougan, Unduli, and Gallia were not expected for a very, very long time. The CIS had suddenly shifted its focus to the territory of those three armies, significantly easing its pressure on the Colonies and the Mid Rim, allowing the other system armies to "breathe." There was no talk of a counteroffensive — the Jedi and clones were licking their wounds and trying to hold the front. It could be said that the focus of major battles had now shifted back to the Outer Rim. And Master Dougan, responsible for nearly half of the galaxy's Outer Rim, would have to try extremely hard just to hold out until the Grand Army built up enough strength to break the blockade.
The fact that three system armies were under a siege impenetrable to military units was, of course, not reported on the HoloNet. Yoda considered it a great stroke of luck that they had managed to complete the redeployment of the Kaminoan clones to Dougan's disposal in time. He now had just over twelve million line infantry soldiers under his command. Not to mention several million specialized clone troopers. The Grand Master considered the dispatch of the latter to Dougan's disposal as his personal achievement. Because it was he who had to withstand the polemical onslaught of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, who for some reason had changed his mind about fully supporting Dougan and had nearly stopped the transfer of millions of soldiers to aid the besieged. The Grand Master had had to exert every effort and give his all in diplomatic talent before the matter got off the ground. The Jedi was largely indebted to the support of Grand Moff Trachta, who bent over backwards to help his colleague, assuring the Chancellor of the correctness of his point of view and presenting objective arguments in favor of such troop movements. With precise examples and calculations, he explained to his immediate superior that without reinforcements, Dougan would not withstand the pressure of the Confederacy forces concentrated against him. Especially in light of the latest intelligence from Isard's Bureau, which reported the enemy's acquisition of two more heavy cruisers — that is, superdreadnoughts according to the Anaxian Military College's classification — of the Subjugator class. The first, as many remembered, had been destroyed by Anakin Skywalker. The second had disappeared from all radars just as Master Dougan began his operation to rescue Master Gallia. And now, during a period of relative calm, two more appeared — the Desolation and the Subjugator. And again, in Master Dougan's area of responsibility.
It seemed the Sith had taken a distinct dislike to the young master — there was no other way to explain the current standoff. According to intelligence, the Subjugator was in the vicinity of the planet Felucia, where Republic forces had been repeatedly defeated, thus threatening the units of Master Unduli. The Desolation had appeared at the shipyards of Allantin VI, where repair facilities damaged during Baron Kirvan's raid were being restored. And, most regrettably, it had destroyed the "Hammerhead" group — over fifty ships — that had been sent to aid the Seventh System Army "Grek." The Desolation itself had sustained significant damage, including the destruction of the enormous ion cannons mounted on it, as on the Malevolence, which could burn out entire operational task forces. The outcome of this confrontation was terrible: fifty Republic ships destroyed, the shipyards of Allantin VI open to any invasion (half a dozen Venators that had arrived for repairs from the same system army didn't change the situation). And the wounded Desolation had escaped, losing only two dozen escort ships — Munificent-class frigates. That was an extremely small price for the losses incurred.
In the end, Palpatine had given in. But not at all because he had taken the words of the Jedi and the commander of the First System Army into account. The decisive factor had been the arguments of his political allies, who had convinced their colleague that the Chancellor's image would suffer irreparable harm if the widely known Grand Moff was destroyed while surrounded, and the Republic, with forces available, did not provide assistance.
Only after that did the Chancellor agree to send reinforcements to the besieged armies. As it turned out, the price of getting those reinforcements was enormous. Not only were the clones moving to the besieged armies along three different routes — the Corellian and Perlemian Trade Routes, the Hydian Way — but the enormous convoys carrying these armed forces were subjected to regular attacks by the CIS, leading to huge fleet losses and many hundreds of heavily damaged or destroyed combat starships from the "Grek," "Heft," and "Gent" system armies. For the most part, these were the same Hammerheads, crewed by Christophsian specialists who had entered Republic service. But that was little consolation. Upon hearing of such fleet losses, which had effectively stripped "Gent" of any operational starship reserves, Chancellor Palpatine merely noted that the ships carrying the ground forces had survived.
And then, at the next Senate session, he delivered another blow to the Jedi's solar plexus.
Skillfully manipulating the senators' opinions, Palpatine gave a passionate speech, calling on everyone to remember the horrors of the recent terrorist attack on Coruscant. Then, having secured the support of the majority, he pushed through the weak resistance of the opposition — which had thoroughly messed up lately — his personal vendetta against Count Dooku.
In response to the Separatist attack on Coruscant, the Republic was to respond a hundredfold. And crush the CIS forces, sweeping through the "Axis of Evil" with fire and sword: Saleucami, Felucia, and Mygeeto. The Confederacy's main strongholds in the Outer Rim. To the timid objections of the opposition led by Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila, who noted that the key Separatist worlds were defended by millions of battle droids and hundreds of ships — something the Republic military could not boast of — Palpatine kindly and pointedly politely reminded them that the "Heft" army, which was assigned to take Felucia, and "Gent," in whose area of responsibility the planet Saleucami lay, now had over ten million clones of line infantry alone, not to mention volunteers. And as for the fleet... the Chancellor very carefully hinted that it was precisely the opposition's fault that there would be no new deliveries of Hammerheads from Rendili, due to his political opponents. And while the Chancellor's opponents were being dragged through the mud, he magnanimously announced that he was confident in the operation's success, since two of the three key Separatist planets were in the zone of armies subordinate to the operational command of Grand Moff Dougan, "who has already proven his excellent training and tactical mastery to us more than once."
Of course, the Chancellor couldn't help but sweeten the pill, informing them that he had ordered all military facilities in the three system armies to be transferred directly to the same Jedi's command, which "will significantly ease the execution of the tasks set before the army and the Jedi, which they, with all the care and attention shown to them, simply have no right to fail."
That was the kind of morning Yoda had had. During which he had first listened to perfectly favorable reports that the deployment of all Kaminoan clones to the three system armies had been successfully completed. And in the evening, he learned that the old, good friend of the Jedi, Palpatine, had literally hung a target over the Temple, clearly demonstrating to the public discontented with the course of the war exactly which building needed to be razed to the ground if even one of the planets named by the Chancellor was not captured.
The next three months of the war were to be dedicated to this upcoming campaign. The Chancellor had given the Jedi no more time. "The response to the Separatists must come in the shortest possible time, so as not to give even a reason to doubt that the Republic is weak." That was Palpatine's explanation.
And if the candidates for commanders who were to lead the offensive on Saleucami and Felucia were clear, then Mygeeto...
At the cost of enormous effort, they had managed to conceal the disgrace that had fallen upon the Order in the person of the temporary commander of the "Kresh" system army. While Obi-Wan was undergoing treatment at the Temple, the Council had sent in his place the most outstanding and effective Jedi — Pong Krell, who had destroyed two corps of new clones, tricking them into fighting each other, and then fled. According to intelligence reports, he had joined Count Dooku's Dark Acolytes.
This could not but sadden them. Even though such cases were rare in the general mass, they still occurred. Jedi — both young and experienced — were defecting to the rebel Count's side. The Council had already received at least half a dozen such reports, requiring an immediate response from the Order. Before the information leaked to the HoloNet.
They had to discuss Obi-Wan's return to active duty — he was just supposed to arrive with a report after completing his diplomatic mission to Ord Cestus, where Mace had sent him forcibly, to prevent the master from indulging in his personal hunt for Darth Maul. That's what the Shadows were for. Knight Mo, who had left Dougan's army without permission, was an excellent candidate for such an operation.
The defeat on the planet Null had cost the Order over a dozen Jedi healers. Padawans, masters... all killed by bounty hunters. Nearly a thousand clones had died in that barbaric raid. And if not for the arrival of Mace Windu with reinforcements on the new Predator-class ships, the defeat could have turned into a rout.
And how many dozens of smaller battles had the Republic lost? How many had they won? There was no counting them... And there was no end to this war...
"Grand Master Yoda," a clone communications trooper's head appeared in the doorway. "Master Dougan is calling you from the Separatist flagship."
"Still Separatist?" the short Jedi chuckled without humor, moving back into the corridor.
He covered the dozen meters separating the balcony from the communications center in a few seconds — after all, he wasn't as old as many seemed to think.
Inside were already the perpetually grim Master Windu, the fierce-even-in-calm Piell, and the aforementioned Kenobi. And holographic figures of the other Council members flickered above the terminal.
"I am glad to greet you, friends," Yoda creaked. "And to see you all in good health, I am as well."
His answer was silent bows. It seemed only Master Dougan, who looked mortally tired even on the hologram, hadn't noticed Yoda's arrival.
"I see your mission was successful," said the Grand Master, winking at a smiling Adi Gallia. He couldn't let those present get the impression that he hadn't believed she'd survive that mission. He had to maintain his image of an all-knowing and wise mentor until the very end. Otherwise, his weary appearance alone could harm the Jedi.
"Yes, Master Yoda," the Tholothian confirmed. "In a sense…"
"Did you run into complications?" Obi-Wan Kenobi asked in surprise. Actually, none of those present had expected any negativity from a rescue mission. Especially one carried out by Master Dougan, renowned for his effectiveness.
"Yes," Adi said quietly. "Baron Kirvan is dead." Yoda felt a slight relief in the Force emanating from Mace. Nax had been a huge problem. And while it wasn't the Jedi way, his death had simplified many things.
"Count Dooku has lost another of his underlings," Kit Fisto remarked with his perpetual smile. "It's a pity General Grievous slipped through your fingers again, Master Dougan."
"Go to hell," the man snapped, not even looking at his interlocutor. Yoda spread his ears and cast a questioning look at the Jedi standing on either side of him. They, in turn, looked back at him.
"Master Dougan…" Kenobi began.
"I killed Baron Kirvan," the man stated. "I saved Magister Gallia. A Separatist mercenary, Durge, and another Separatist acolyte, codenamed Jek-14, killed Knight Kaili Omas while she was healing Adi. My commandos captured an enemy Subjugator-class superdreadnought. And forgive me if, having lost a dear… battle comrade, I find out that my troops weren't allowed to sweep the Hypori catacombs and capture Grievous, but were pulled back to the rear! As a result, that maniac is still at large! And after all that, I have to listen to criticism from this…"
"Stop it, Master Dougan!" Mace cut him off. "The order your troops received to withdraw from Hypori was simply successful Separatist disinformation. The Chancellor's office had nothing to do with it; this has already been sorted out."
"Oh, sure," the Jedi Master scoffed. "We know all about these 'disinformation' attempts. I thought we'd learned to recognize them six months ago."
"Such thinking will lead us into darkness," Shaak Ti said.
"We all mourn the loss of Knight Omas," Plo Koon rumbled. "But that's no reason to make it personal!"
"Did you hear that, tentacle-head?" Dougan grinned, looking with undisguised hatred at the blinking Nautolan, who, like everyone else present, didn't understand whether he'd just been insulted or something else…
"The capture of the Sovereign is a massive blow against the Separatists," Kenobi said, diplomatically shifting the topic. "We can use it for propaganda purposes."
"That's exactly what I intend to do," the youngest Council member shrugged. "According to my reports, journalist Tyrell is still under house arrest on Christophsis."
"She is a person close to the Chancellor," Piell reminded him. "It could backfire on you, Master."
"I'll take the necessary measures to prevent that," Rick said with a barely perceptible nod.
"The Sovereign needs to be delivered to the Kuat or Rothana shipyards," Windu said thoughtfully. "The engineers there will thoroughly study the ship before it's sent for scrapping."
"Forgive me, Magister," Dougan said. "But the Black Overlord will remain under my command."
"The what Overlord?" the one-eyed Piell grinned.
"Black," the Jedi Master replied without a hint of irony. "An anal punishment for the Separatists."
Snickers ran through the Order members present. Luminara and Adi blushed. Kenobi started hiding a smile in his beard. Even Yoda, despite the joke's obscenity, couldn't suppress a chuckle.
"Subjugator-class cruisers are weapons of terror," Mace said coldly. "Republic doctrine forbids their use…"
"I don't give a damn about that doctrine or its authors," Dougan admitted. "Those bastards killed thousands of my men and friends, shot down my flagship from orbit. The Black Overlord is my lawful trophy. Given the colossal losses my fleet has suffered recently, this one ship will replace an entire armada. So, scrapping it for metal is out of the question."
"But…"
"It is pointless," Yoda said. "I permit you to keep this ship…"
"Nobody was asking you, actually," Dougan said quietly. Still, everyone present heard him. But Yoda chose to let the insolence slide.
"I have a new task for you," he said.
"I'll bet it's even worse than the last one," the Jedi Master snorted.
"Undoubtedly," Mace said. "Chancellor Palpatine has escalated his conflict with the Order, directly setting us an extremely difficult and practically impossible task. If we fail, the Jedi will lose public trust for good."
"The 'Triad of Evil'?" Dougan asked calmly. "Three key Separatist planets in a few months?"
"That's classified information, actually," Mace Windu rasped.
"Not such a big secret," Dougan concluded, "if senators are blabbing about it left and right. The information reached me personally from Commander Syndulla. And he, in turn, heard it from Senator Suuwie. I hope I don't need to explain at this meeting which establishment she got that information from?"
"The Twi'leks' interest in this operation is curious," Obi-Wan frowned.
"Nothing special," Dougan replied calmly. "They want to pay the Separatists back in kind for what they did on Ryloth."
"Either way," Plo Koon noted, "we need to mobilize significant forces and develop invasion plans for Felucia, Saleucami, and Mygeeto."
"To Masters Unduli, Kenobi, and Master Dougan I wish to entrust these missions," Yoda said.
"I will depart for Ord Mantell immediately," Obi-Wan replied readily.
"My troop grouping is surrounded," Unduli reminded him. "And we still haven't taken the Mon Calamari sector. Perhaps in a month or two the Separatist defenses will be broken…"
"Too long," Windu shook his head.
"Then we should send another Master," Oppo Rancisis noted. "I would join, but…"
"You have your own tasks," the Korunnai dismissed him. "Master Plo Koon is busy restoring the front. Master Fisto, how are your negotiations on Naboo progressing?"
"Slowly," Fisto admitted. "The Gungans aren't very keen on returning to Dac again. Boss Nass isn't very optimistic about our operation against the Separatists. To paraphrase, the Gungans consider the new operation a waste of time, as they're not sure we won't lose Dac again."
"It's hard to blame them for that point of view," Dougan said. "We already drove the Separatists off the Mon Calamari homeworld once, and in less than a year, we're having to take it back. Again, under your command, Master Fisto. A brilliant plan, Kit. If I understand correctly, it's simply fantastic. Reliable as a Swiss watch."
The Masters exchanged surprised glances, clearly not understanding the end of the Master's phrase.
"What do you propose, Master Dougan?" Yoda asked, squinting. He knew how to set aside the young Jedi's sarcasm and grasp the meaning behind his high-flown mockery.
"There are about ten billion Mon Calamari on the planet," Dougan reminded him. "They're amphibians, they know the terrain, and they've traditionally held Republic ideals. So, instead of dragging a Gungan army across two or three front lines, why don't we just use local help? I doubt they're thrilled with Separatist rule there. If I remember correctly, about five corps under my command are aquatic assault troopers, which is almost four hundred thousand men. No matter how many droids are there, we can drive them off the planet without outside help. The main thing is to break through to Dac. Which, essentially, is what Master Unduli is doing right now. And since I've stopped hunting every piece of scum, I'll send additional clone and ship reinforcements to her oversector. By the way, Master Yoda, thank you for the extra forces. I'm flattered. Aayla Secura reports that we even have clone assassin units and clone soldiers for covert operations. The full authorized strength of these very interesting fighters under my command… Is that a hint, or did you just give me all the Kaminoan clones?"
"A hint?" Kenobi stroked his beard. "What's this all about?"
All eyes turned to the Grand Master. Yoda twitched his ears disapprovingly.
"Clone assassins are GAR soldiers specifically created to fight Jedi, armed with vibroblades built into their bracers," Dougan explained. "And the clones for covert operations are straight out of Isard's department. They mostly handled eliminating clone deserters."
The diminutive Jedi felt indignation in the Force.
"Jedi killers?" Piell frowned. "I haven't heard of any."
"They were created in deepest secrecy by the Chancellor," Yoda admitted with a sigh. "As a weapon against the Jedi, in case our brothers switched to the enemy's side."
"What the Hutt, Master?!" Piell's single eye seemed about to pop out of its socket. "Aren't the Shadows enough for us? Now we have to be afraid of clones too?"
"It was a necessary measure," Yoda pressed his lips together. "The Senate gave Palpatine permission for it. Master Windu and I were unable to oppose them."
"Or you just didn't want to disclose that we have our own 'bloody secret police'," Dougan said in a neutral tone. Then, seeing the lack of understanding on the faces around him, he sighed and added:
"I mean the Shadow Corps. Jedi fighting other Jedi. Speaking of which, one such specialist deserted from my army. Can I set the clone assassins on his trail, Master Yoda?"
The Grand Master shook his head in disappointment. This wasn't the reaction he'd hoped for.
He had hoped the Master would understand that he had sent him protection from the adepts of the Dark Side. Professional killers capable of defeating most of Dooku's Force-sensitive followers. And of preserving a valuable member of the Order for the future, which remained as uncertain as ever.
"Jedi Mo left your army on my orders," the Grand Master lied, not wanting to escalate the situation on this issue too. "It turned out you didn't need him; he was sitting idle. I recalled the unneeded Jedi from your command because other armies lack them."
"Well, actually, they were sitting on their asses while corps were being formed for them," Dougan scratched his chin. "If you don't recall, reinforcements were arriving to me in barely platoon-sized batches until recently. But as soon as I left to catch Kirvan, I come back and I'm told: be so kind as to handle nearly fifteen million line infantry, special clones—engineers, medics, sappers, lancers, troopers, heavy weapons, 'flamers,' flamethrowers, assassins, 'shadows,' almost fifty thousand commandos, fleet specialists, and so on down the roster. No, I'm not complaining; if you have more, I'll find a use for them, send them over. It's just that I don't have that many Jedi— maybe thirty, if I remember correctly. Masters Unduli, Gallia, how many do you have?"
"Ten," Luminara said coldly.
"Eighteen," Adi replied.
"Total: just over fifty," Even Piell announced the result of the simple arithmetic. "Out of almost seven thousand currently scattered across the galaxy. Am I the only one who doesn't understand the logic of distribution?"
"You also have a squad of Padawans under your command," Mace tried to interject. "And a clan of Younglings has been entrusted to your care."
"I haven't said a word about them yet and have no complaints about their presence in my area," the Jedi Master shot a blazing look at the Korunnai. "But have we run out of full-fledged Jedi?"
"They are needed elsewhere," Yoda shook his head. "You have many competent officers—they can lead the clones. Jedi are needed to command the new clones…"
"Well, if you say so," Dougan agreed far too easily. "I'll manage with the clones in the current situation. I hope the Council is aware that our three armies are practically already surrounded? Well, apart from the 'crooked path of life' through the Hydian Way and the Perlemian Trade Route."
"We have been informed of this," Yoda nodded.
"Intelligence reports that within a few days the Separatists will occupy the Denon and Bestine systems," Windu said. "Which would mean a complete blockade of the Hydian and Corellian…"
"Let's add that between Gizer, which my people captured, and Tanaab, there is a powerful Separatist grouping of several thousand ships," Master Dougan interrupted. "And we've got a complete encirclement, where we're left to our own devices."
"There's still a chance we can break through the Umbara Blockade," Ki-Adi-Mundi offered. The youngest Council member favored him with such an incredulous look that no further explanation was needed.
"I'm heading to the 'Gent' army's position," Evan Piell said unexpectedly, bewildering everyone present.
"The Council hasn't given you such an assignment," Magister Windu bristled immediately.
"I have sanctioned this mission," the Grand Master cut him off, preventing a potential squabble. Looking into his fellow Korunnai's eyes, he shook his head almost imperceptibly, urging him not to worsen the situation.
Even without infighting among the Jedi, the situation couldn't be more dire.
"I don't need anyone's permission to be where I'm needed," Piell snorted, seeing his main opponent backing down. "Especially since the Council still isn't fully staffed with Masters…"
"Seriously?" A ghost of a smile touched Dougan's lips. "And here I thought you'd just quietly decide everything without me again, and that would be that."
"You should show a little more respect to other Council members, Master Dougan," Oppo Rancisis tried to rein him in.
It didn't work.
The Master just snorted mockingly and waved his hand, ignoring Magister Gallia, who was trying to signal him.
"I have long wanted to raise this question," Yoda said, bending the truth. "I would like to support the candidacy of Stass Allie for a vote…"
The Grand Master felt the keen attention of most Council members on him, but he demonstratively continued to stare straight ahead. There was no need to say anything. The message was clear enough.
A short vote among those gathered led to the unanimous acceptance of another Tholothian into the Council. The Master, taking no part in the discussions, stared stubbornly ahead.
But his thoughts were far from what was happening in the hall. Mace, glancing at the first among equals, continued the briefing, while Yoda's mind drifted deep within himself.
He could clearly feel the conspiracy against the Jedi becoming more and more tangible. If before he had only vague assumptions, guesses, a premonition, now… everything happening was taking on a certain meaning.
The war had forced the Jedi to lose their main advantage—strength in numbers. The Keepers of the Peace had been spread so thinly across the galaxy that they seemed almost non-existent. Reports and accounts, briefings and dispatches—it had all turned into a whirlwind of poorly controlled bureaucracy, where politicians and officials held sway. Not the Jedi.
The Grand Master was forced to admit that even he, despite his enormous life experience, simply couldn't keep track of everything. Before, when the Jedi were always at hand, in the Temple, it was much easier to do.
The entire first year of the war had the Temple in turmoil. There was no clear structure for Jedi assignments—tasks were given out almost on a first-come, first-served basis; Order members were thrown into 'hot spots' with clone units, or sometimes without any at all. The enormous losses, which were frantically being plugged by hastily knighting yesterday's Padawans, only led to even greater losses. Yoda, upon hearing that over three hundred Jedi had died on the front in less than a week, was nearly speechless. These were colossal losses, the likes of which the Jedi Order had never experienced in similar circumstances.
And the premonition, though clouded by the Dark Side, still whispered to the Grand Master that the hardest days for the Jedi Order were yet to come.
For the first time in his life, he felt despair.
Because he couldn't influence what was happening, and that… frightened him.
Yoda was increasingly leaning towards the idea that the War was the fruit of an extremely subtle and calculating Sith plan, designed to bring imbalance to the galaxy. To discredit the Jedi, deprive them of public support, dishonor them…
He didn't want to believe Count Dooku, who had told Obi-Wan back on Geonosis, mere hours before the start of the Clone Wars, that a Dark Lord of the Sith was operating in the Senate. Such a thing simply couldn't be, because it would demonstrate the complete vulnerability and inviability of the modern Jedi against their most ancient enemies. Which, in turn, cast a shadow over the Grand Master himself. Forcing him to wonder whether it was his actions that had led to such a degradation of the Jedi.
Perhaps it was fundamentally wrong to shield his charges from the merciless lessons of the past? Shouldn't he have pursued quality over quantity of Jedi? Should recruitment have been done more carefully to avoid the constant forced 'exceptions' to the general rules?
So many questions, so few answers…
For the first time, Yoda clearly felt the lack of a simple and unassuming thing: the counsel of someone unbound by the Order's doctrines. An outside perspective.
Sometimes he thought he had found such a being in Rick Dougan.
The boy had spent his entire youth outside the Temple, learning literally 'in the field,' growing up apart from the Jedi community. Not for the majority of his life, but for its most intense period. The process of turning from a boy into a man had taken place outside Jedi dogma.
And that couldn't help but affect his perception of what was happening in the world.
And he had proven this time and again.
At first, Yoda had been wary of him—just as he had been with Anakin in his time. But after so many months of war, he was firmly convinced that the youngest member of the Order, even if he had entered the ranks of the Masters through an unconventional path, was a beacon in the coming Darkness.
Looking back, the Grand Master clearly realized that he had tried with every fiber of his being to protect the boy from the accidents that had been happening to Jedi more and more frequently lately. And, more often than not, with fatal outcomes. He had done this so that in the crucible of war, a weapon would be forged—not a potential Chosen One whose power was great but whose skills, though based on sharpened reflexes, were ordinary. But a true fighter, like the Jedi of old.
One whose views were increasingly reflected in young minds, in the hearts of the younger generation—the future of the Order. A Jedi icon in the public eye.
The true embodiment of the Light Side of the Force: humane, yet just. Merciful, yet ruthless. Doing what was necessary not to relieve the symptoms of the disease, but to eradicate it.
But it seemed the Sith had calculated the Grand Master's little combination. They understood the danger Dougan posed to their power. And they were making every attempt to eliminate him.
The green-skinned Jedi had immediately understood the reason for Adi's capture. The Sith had given that order to their most skilled assassin. They had pitted their most perfect weapon against the Jedi ideal. They had distracted him from the inevitable destruction of their bloodthirsty monster—General Grievous—and then pushed through the Chancellor's office an order to pull the most experienced combat units from the front line, replacing them with green militia, through which Grievous broke like a lightsaber through a tabletop.
But, without a doubt, the Sith's subtle calculation was based on the belief that Kirvan and his underlings could get rid of Dougan. And he had unpleasantly surprised them…
The Grand Master, maintaining an impassive expression, pretended to listen to the reports of the High Council members, while secretly, like a Youngling, rejoiced that he had managed to entrust the most promising Younglings and Padawans for the future of the Order to Dougan's care.
Even if the children inclined towards the Dark Side weren't ready to become Padawans, the Master would be able to teach them many lessons designed to teach the younger Jedi to control their inner Darkness. To show them how to master the urge for destruction, the emotions within.
Perhaps the time of the Jedi as Keepers of the Peace had passed, and the galaxy needed warriors like Mace Windu and Dougan himself.
Yoda allowed himself an inner smile.
It seemed he had found the answer to the question of the Korunnai's mistrust of the young Jedi.
They were so alike, like two identically charged particles that, by the laws of physics, were never meant to be close. That's why their personalities clashed. Like Mace, Rick was organically incapable of accepting the traditional Jedi dogma of emotional denial. Like Mace, the young Master drew strength from them, channeling into a constructive direction what others used only to achieve their own goals, gain personal power and profit, without caring for the good of those around them…
"Your opinion, Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan interrupted his thoughts.
"On which of the points raised?" the diminutive Jedi inquired with the philosophical calm the others were used to, twitching his ears.
"The kidnapping of A'Sharad Hett by the Separatists," Windu prompted, familiar with the elder's habit of drifting into thought. "Master Dougan is certain this action was carried out on a Sith plan to subsequently turn this Jedi to the Dark Side."
"Hett is a strong Jedi," Yoda sighed. Yes, he had heard of this tragic episode. And he fully shared the Jedi Master's point of view. "He came into contact with the Dark Side and was subject to it. Such Jedi are the easiest to break. He must be found before it is too late. See to this, Master Dougan."
"As you command, Master Yoda," the Jedi bowed his head respectfully. "And what should I do when I find him?"
"Act according to the circumstances," it was hard to say, but necessary. Yoda humbly took another burden onto his shoulders. "You have the relevant experience."
"I'll do it properly, Grand Master," the young Jedi grinned.
A few minutes later, the meeting ended. Looking as if he had aged several hundred years, Yoda, leaning on his cane, slowly hobbled towards his own quarters.
He absolutely had to rest.
Otherwise, he might not live to see the moment in galactic history when a new hope appeared for the Jedi Order.
* * *
A blaster bolt whizzed past Micky's head, shattering against the stone wall behind him.
"That was close," Marshal Venter commented calmly, showing just how close Micky had been to death. Half a palm width, and the red bolt would have hit his helmet's visor plate. No big deal. He'd seen worse.
"The main thing is I'm alive," the commander of the 73rd Recon Corps waved it off, though he instinctively tried to stay lower than the top edge of the makeshift barricade. "Don't want to die before my time."
Casting a glance at the platoon attached to his corps, wiped out from an ambush, he just shook his head. Too bad for the guys. No one knew that Separatist mercenaries had set up shop at the end of this corridor. With heavy repeaters, no less, which had shredded the reconnaissance group. Even the new armor hadn't saved them.
"Either these mercenaries are way too cocky," the commander of the 156th Assault Corps offered a thought, "or they've gotten completely stupid from sitting in this complex."
"Is there a difference?" Micky shrugged with a grim chuckle.
They had barely started the assault on the Separatist Rindellian base. After the heavy fighters silenced the fortifications' artillery and the Jedi broke through inside, everything had started spinning.
Firefights with droids, firefights with mercenaries, firefights with heavy machinery. Pain, terror, brothers' limbs torn off by explosions, dozens of corpses in black-and-silver armor… The usual picture for any assault.
Micky's scouts had been in the first wave of the attack. Fast and agile, they had broken into the complex from four directions at once, opening the way for the assault units. But they didn't end their participation in the campaign there, supporting their brothers with fire and thermal detonators.
And now the last obstacle in this sector of the base: a fairly wide corridor leading to a turbolift that went all the way to the lowest level of the base, of which there were about twenty. The Separatist bastards had dug in. But nothing, this annoying hindrance would soon be dealt with.
Micky glanced back—one of the troopers was signaling him from around a corner. A replacement, probably a 'shiny' from yesterday.
Micky waved his hand at him to get his stupid head back under cover. The enemy was jamming communications—an annoying hindrance that troopers from the 217th Assault Corps were supposed to deal with. But Riviriv was stuck a level up—couldn't break through the AAT tank barrier. Hutt, who told these Separatist scum they could use tanks in the base's wide corridors?
The sniper didn't keep them waiting, planting a red charge into the inexperienced clone's right side of his chest plate. The soldier fell backwards, instinctively clutching the damaged area of his armor. A couple of troopers immediately rushed to him, grabbing his gear with the firm intention of dragging the fool off the battlefield.
"Covering fire!" Micky commanded, leaning out from behind cover with Venter, generously spraying the enemy marksman, who had dug in behind a pile of destroyed droids, with carbine fire. Yes, it was ineffective—the blue bolts smacked against the hulls of the long-destroyed droids, causing no harm.
But unlike mechanical soldiers who knew no fear, the organic soldiers of the CIS — Micky didn't distinguish between simple mercenaries and the regular units of the countless organizations that made up the Confederacy — weren't too fond of having every conceivable weapon laid down on them in a massive barrage. Even if some corner of their mind understood it was just suppressive fire.
The marksman took cover, preferring to wait out the lethal threat. Micky, hearing that the fighter was in hiding, nudged his fellow marshal in the shoulder, and both rolled behind their own shelter.
Several more single blaster bolts slammed into the barricade — the remains of a DSD1 dwarf spider droid.
"Sniper or just crazy?" Ventor suggested.
Micky thought for a moment, gauged the accuracy of the shots and their timing, then voiced his agreement with the first option.
"Yeah, there was a time when those Koorivar wouldn't stick their noses outside Murkhana and Bomis Koori IV," the commander of the 156th Assault Corps lamented, checking his power cartridge. "And now they're all over the Outer Rim..."
"I heard the Confederacy is hiring a lot of mercenaries," Micky said. He pulled the helmet of one of the fallen brothers lying nearby toward him, slipped it onto the barrel of his carbine, and raised it above the droid wreckage to imitate a live target. Almost instantly, the helmet flew sideways, its face shield blackened and a smoking hole punched through the visor. "What a bastard, shooting right through the visor."
"Yeah, looks like they found a weak spot in the Infiltrators," Ventor snarled, pressing himself into cover as a pair of aimed shots whizzed past his left shoulder. "So now there'll be more snipers."
"Still better than Phase I," Micky noted. "At least it holds up against blaster rifle hits, unlike that Kaminoan piece of crap."
"Yeah," Ventor sighed. "If we'd had protection like this from the first days of the war... we'd have saved so many brothers."
"What's done is done," Micky said philosophically. He glanced at his wrist computer and checked the remaining time on the chronometer. "How long do you think we'll have to play decoys here?"
"How the hell should I know?" the brother replied in surprise. "It was your Jedi who decided to crawl through the ventilation. Ask her."
After a moment's thought, Micky concluded that doing so was a bad idea. General Kuro was a highly unconventional being. She never interfered with the corps' routine operations, preferring to give the clones complete freedom of action on the battlefield. At the same time, she was very actively involved in sabotage missions, which she pulled off excellently. Even the commandos sometimes spoke of her skill with admiration.
So the scout chose not to unmask his general, who was now crawling through the narrow ventilation ducts to get behind the annoying sniper — the last one from the large CIS unit — whose accurate fire was preventing them from advancing any further.
"I still wonder why that bastard hasn't shot us with a grenade launcher yet," Ventor remarked. "One missile and he'd have taken out not just us, but half a company."
His colleague nodded toward the fighters of two corps — his and Micky's — who were hiding behind the ribbed support struts of the corridor. Yes, the advance had scrambled the clone units a bit, but that was no big deal. They'd sort it out after the battle.
"Why don't you yell at him not to be shy," Micky suggested. "But personally, I'd prefer to keep following the plan."
"Yeah, I was just saying," Ventor hedged. "Just talking..."
Master Kuro's plan was as simple as the composition of water on Kamino.
The enemy snipers, like the mercenaries in general on this base, had an almost sporting interest in picking off GAR unit commanders of all stripes. So this sniper certainly couldn't afford to miss the chance to kill two marshals — him and Ventor — at once. And he kept pouring shots into their cover, trying to catch the moment when one of them would get careless and expose himself. The marshals taunted him, sticking out the helmets of dead soldiers lying nearby again and again. Yes, expensive gear was getting ruined, but that was fine — it could be fixed in the rear. Before burial, clones were always stripped of their armor, which then went to someone else. It wasn't the most pleasant job for the logistics personnel — working with the bodies of their brothers — but what could you do?
But with this little trick using the helmets of the fallen, the marshals could keep the sniper's attention fixed on their position, allowing the brave female Jedi to get behind him.
Vwoooosh. A second blaster bolt flew past. Micky flinched instinctively as he felt the discharge particles ricocheting off his armor.
"Hit?" Ventor asked with concern.
"The shoulder pauldron got singed," Micky reported. "Didn't notice I'd stuck it out of cover."
"You might as well stick your head out next," Ventor chuckled. He leaned out to the side, firing a long burst from his carbine that forced the sniper back into cover. Then, after hearing the dry click from inside the weapon, he ducked back.
"Empty," he lamented.
"What, are you eating them?" Micky exclaimed. "We were both full when this started! I've still got half my cartridges left!"
"Well, don't be stingy, share," Ventor advised. "I'm a shock trooper, remember. They didn't teach us to conserve ammo."
"Right," Micky recalled. "How could I forget! Your motto is 'Maximum tibanna, minimum hassle.'"
"Yours is 'Faster, quieter, deadlier,'" the shock trooper commander shot back. "So, are you going to give me another magazine?"
"Oh, just take it," Micky said with a wave, handing his comrade several magazines for the carbine.
A clatter of falling metal reached their ears. Before Micky could register that the sound was coming from over a hundred meters away — from the sniper's position — the characteristic hiss of a Jedi lightsaber rang out. And almost immediately after, a hum and a furious, agonized howl.
"She finally made it," Ventor grunted. "I was starting to grow a beard. Thought I'd die of old age before she got to the fight."
"You're always complaining about something," Micky retorted without malice. He liked his colleague — lively, with a personality, a capable commander. Though sometimes he got carried away with grumbling. Getting old, maybe?
Hearing the prearranged signal from Master Kuro, both commanders ordered their men to continue advancing without losing vigilance — who knew what surprises the Separatists had left in the corridor? — and moved forward.
Micky's trained eye immediately spotted four anti-personnel pressure mines, quite skillfully hidden in the floor tiles. Honestly, if he hadn't had so much experience dealing with those things, they wouldn't have avoided a big explosion. But it went fine.
Sappers, who had arrived from somewhere in the second wave of the assault, neutralized the deadly threat with almost jeweler-like precision. After that, the marshal was finally able to rejoin his Jedi.
The enemy had chosen an extremely advantageous position. In this spot, the tunnel was unfinished in terms of finishing work — there were numerous pits in the rock where the enemy had stored their ammunition. On one side was a corridor that offered an excellent field of fire. On the other was a turbolift shaft, though as the scouts who had examined it reported, the cabin was jammed and rigged with baradium charges. It seemed the Separatists had left a blocking force here, cutting off their own retreat. If they got killed — oh well. The baradium would delay the clones. And if it didn't, the explosion's power would be enough to collapse the shaft and seal off the entry point to the lower levels.
Clever. Droids clearly couldn't have come up with that. The mercenaries themselves had apparently cut off their own way back.
"You don't look so good, Master Kuro," he said, pointing at the woman's black form-fitting clothes, torn in several places and even scorched by blaster fire in some spots.
"You still haven't learned how to compliment a woman," she said with a grim smile on her lips. Then, seeing the clones scrambling over the Separatists' makeshift barricade and beginning to search the mercenaries' bodies, she added, "A couple of droidekas got in my way. Had to deal with them."
"Droidekas in the ventilation?" Ventor asked in surprise as he approached.
"The ventilation isn't continuous," An'ya explained. "Those bunglers didn't even finish the construction — the conduits broke off in several places. Had to improvise. That's where the droidekas caught me in the next corridor."
Without a word, Micky unclipped the plastoid backpack from his back and pulled out a medical kit — a bacta patch and an aerosol. He handed them to the Jedi and simply nodded in response to her words of thanks. What was the point of extra words? They were on the same side.
"There are wounded here," reported one of the 156th's fighters, pointing to a pair of mercenaries hiding in one of the massive craters. Two organics, bandaged up; one had his eye gouged out, the other had his arm torn off just above the elbow. Probably caught it when the scouts were using rockets to destroy the droids.
"Handle it, Marshal," the general requested, sitting down on a crate to tend to her wounds.
"Officers?" Micky asked as he approached the prisoners. Yes, they were wearing standard soldier uniforms, but this wasn't the first time enemy commanders had tried to save their own skins by switching clothes.
Both shook their heads.
"How do we defuse the lift?" Ventor asked, stepping on one of the wounded men's shin.
The mercenary hissed in pain and babbled in his birdlike language, switching to Galactic Basic. The shock trooper commander, unable to endure such an assault on his hearing, pressed down harder with his ribbed sole, twisting it at the same time to inflict even more pain.
"We're just ordinary soldiers!" the second one shouted, seeing his comrade's suffering. "The commander set the charges," he jabbed a finger at the sniper's hacked-apart figure.
"Useful information?" Micky asked again. And again, the mercenaries couldn't help him. All the orders, schematics, and the like were stored on the commander's datapad, which the engineers were already dealing with.
"Then we don't need you," Ventor concluded, ending both enemy fighters' lives with two precise shots. Catching a blaster bolt in the forehead, both adversaries went still.
"And what the Hutt was that for?" Micky asked in a flat tone. He didn't feel any regret over the execution of the mercenaries. He just wanted to understand his colleague's motivation.
"Did you hear an order to take prisoners?" the shock trooper replied with a question.
"No," Micky admitted.
"Well, neither did I," Ventor replied in a tone that made it sound like he wasn't talking about two cold-blooded executions, but something routine, happening every minute. Though who knew with those shock troopers.
"Logical," acknowledged the commander of the 73rd Reconnaissance Corps. Noticing the sappers preparing to descend into the shaft to defuse the turbolift, the marshal took off his helmet, mechanically scratching the healed scar on the right side of his head.
"Yeah, fun job," he said.
"The best job in the galaxy," Ventor snorted, hanging spare power cartridges he'd taken from a support trooper on his belt.
* * *
No muscle twitched on the face of the heir to the Count of Serenno.
Self-control is the courtesy of an aristocrat. And one must never lose their composure under any circumstances.
Not even when you learn from the best Jedi hunter that he failed his mission.
"I understand you, Durge," Count Dooku finally said after several minutes of silence. "A wretched report. You've disappointed me, but I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself. Go to Toydaria. Capture the local king and bring him to me. Alive!"
"Boring," the Gen'Dai grumbled, but noticing the Count's unyielding expression, the mercenary's hologram simply bowed silently and vanished.
Yes, things hadn't worked out with Dougan. A pity.
Still, there were always other ways to solve the problem.
The communication panel began blinking with an incoming message.
The Count sighed, activated the holoprojector, and dutifully knelt before his master.
"Lord Sidious," he greeted the hologram, whose head was traditionally shrouded in a hood, hiding the true face of the man masterfully manipulating the galaxy.
"Lord Tyranus," the other echoed. The former Jedi caught the sharp tone in his master's voice. So Palpatine was extremely displeased with the situation. "I'm aware that Dougan managed to survive."
"Yes, my lord."
"How? Jek-14 has never failed before."
"The Jedi wasn't alone. Using disguised ships, he brought commando squads on board who disabled the Sovereign's crew. He also had minions with him — two Jedi and two monsters. Jek managed to kill one Jedi, but the second one is clearly a Sith."
"Is that so?" A hint of surprise crept into Sidious's voice. "What is this conclusion based on?"
"She used a red lightsaber blade. Also, Jek-14 said the Zabrak fighting on Dougan's side is proficient in Dark Side techniques. As is the target himself. That's why he decided to kill the Jedi healer and Adi Gallia, but only succeeded with the first."
"How curious," Palpatine concluded. "Events are gaining momentum rapidly. And we'll need to act even faster if we want to be rid of this annoying Jedi."
"Do you have a plan, Master?"
"I ALWAYS have a plan," the Chancellor said emphatically. "Have your armies already blockaded Dougan's forces?"
"Almost, my Lord. In a couple of days, we'll cut off all remaining hyperspace routes, and three armies will be surrounded."
"Excellent. Throw everything you have at him. He must be crushed like an insect — destroy all his clones, his militias, all his ships."
"That won't be easy, my Lord. After Rush Clovis's gambit, our allies in the Banking Clan have lost significant ground in that organization. Clovis is using mercenaries to root out and eliminate our spies and supporters. We've managed to seize the main shipyards, like Gwori, but Clovis is strong enough. Of the Muuns' eight thousand ships, only half are under our control."
"Dougan has just over fifteen hundred starships," Sidious said. "The Generous-class frigates alone could tear him apart."
"Undoubtedly. But if we commit everything against him, we'll leave the fronts in other regions of the galaxy exposed. The Separatist Council won't accept such a decision."
"Their opinion is worthless," Sidious reminded him. "Force them to pull everything out of their reserves under the pretext of the Banking Clan's weakening. The more ships Dougan destroys, the easier it will be for us to make up for lost ground. And the larger the Separatist armadas grow, the more forces Dougan will need to stop them. His reserves are at their limit. Even the tens of millions of clones, among whom he has achieved nearly absolute loyalty, won't save him."
"But you placed Rothana and Kamino under his command," Dooku reminded him. "Those are enormous facilities. They allow him to repair his own ships much faster and heal the wounded. And that, in turn, slows the destruction of the forces under his control."
"Sometimes you have to sacrifice the smaller things to save face," Palpatine declared. "In essence, nothing has changed. Send your Dark Acolytes to kill all the Jedi under his command — we cannot allow even the possibility that anyone connected to him might survive. Have your spy, the tactical droid, report all of Dougan's fleet movements to you. I will continue working to undermine his reputation in the Republic and the Senate."
"Of course, my Lord. But through the HoloNet, he can continue to publicize his actions. This could attract even more supporters to his side. Spies report that on Pantora, clones are training thousands of militiamen."
"Yes, communications are an extremely sensitive issue," Sidious admitted. "Without them, Dougan's efforts would remain a secret from the galaxy. And the CIS Shadowfeed could have become the sole source of news from that part of the Outer Rim."
"Are you suggesting we destroy the HoloNet relay stations?" Dooku was taken aback. "But they are a key element not only for communication, but also for economic and other operations. All transactions, all negotiations would be put at risk."
"It would hit the Banking Clan even harder," Palpatine noted. "After the Muuns' encrypted banking network merged with the Shadowfeed, Clovis has been forced to use the HoloNet for transactions. Destroying the relays on the borders of the besieged armies and the Banking Clan's territory would lead to the complete collapse of his system. With one blow, we cut Dougan off from the outside world and force Clovis to come to terms with us."
"I do not doubt your wisdom, my Lord," Dooku said cautiously. "But destroying the relays is an extremely grave crime. For that, one would be instantly de-Integrated."
"Then let Grievous and Trench handle it," Palpatine flashed with rage. "Put the last two Subjugator-class ships under their command, along with all forces operating against the System Armies 'Grek,' 'Heft,' and 'Jent.' All major operations should be conducted there. Frame it as the destruction of the most dangerous threat — the Senate has voted to attack Mygeeto, Felucia, and Saleucami. This should make the Confederacy worry about its assets. They'll swallow this disinformation without question. If necessary, I will personally force Ganrei to delve into the reserves and bring to light everything that can shoot."
"I'll manage with my own forces, Lord Sidious," Dooku promised. "We'll hire pirates to help Grievous and Trench destroy the relays in space. And the Shadowfeed... we can always use the same Generous-class frigates as mobile relays to inform the CIS. But that will divert significant forces — if we want a sudden communications blackout. Dougan could use that for his own purposes."
"That is precisely why the CIS reserve forces are necessary," a triumphant smile appeared on Sidious's lips. "If I recall correctly, the Trade Federation had Kontos-class ships, perfectly suited for line combat. I think, with a minor modification, they'll be able to destroy Dougan's ships without much trouble. Though, even if the Separatists suffer enormous losses — that concerns us the least."
"Undoubtedly, my Lord," Dooku smiled. "They are but pawns in our game of holo-chess."
"Exactly right, Count Dooku," Sidious's smile became more like a baring of teeth. "Merely pawns."
* * *
"It's a bad situation," I commented after briefly recounting the conversation with the Jedi Council. "We're facing encirclement, with all the pleasantries that entails. Plus a few more million clones on our shoulders — equipped with inhibitor chips and not exactly loyal."
"It will take Christophsis a long time for the Sith to free them all from the chips," said Aayla Secura's hologram. "A corps per day is the maximum they can provide us. And even that is the limit of the medical center."
"We'll have to use Kamino for that purpose," I sighed. The fresh reinforcements graciously provided by Yoda were a major headache. Honestly, I hadn't even thought that so many of Fett's clones had survived. I was expecting one or two million, five to seven at most. But now I had over a dozen under my command. Headquarters was completely buried under the accounting sheets of clone units — we had to figure out what exactly was arriving under the label of "reinforcements," in what condition, and what could be done with it.
The mere fact that units were arriving without equipment — thank the Force they at least had armor and blasters — was already straining logistics to the breaking point. How was I supposed to supply forty tank corps with everything they needed if they had no SPHAs, no repulsor tanks? The guys had been sent across the galaxy with whatever they had on them.
At least they hadn't stripped the aqua-troopers of their gear. Speaking of which...
"Transfer all clone aqua-troopers to Kamino," I ordered. "I'll work it out with Lama Su so they have their own base there. Let them handle these for now. They managed to create millions of clones — they can manage to free them from the Sith chips."
"That's over twenty corps," Aayla reminded me. "We'll have to recall all available Acclamators from the front to transport the soldiers."
"Would it be better if the aqua-troopers hung around on Christophsis, where there isn't a single natural body of water? Or on Ord Pardron? Or maybe send them to Ryloth?"
"I apologize, my lord," the girl said contritely. "I'll see to it."
"We'll have to work very hard on troop movement," I exhaled. "All commandos to Ord Pardron, except those whose loyalty we're sure of. All the rookies from the ground units to Ryloth. I'll contact Rivus — he's been loafing around long enough. Let him drag his Duros ass to your homeworld and train the greenhorns. I've got a feeling things are about to heat up, and I'm not ready to lose thousands of fighters just because they're not familiar with our tactics. When I'm done here, I'll contact Syndulla and Su and sort everything out. For now, start the preparations."
"It shall be done, Imperator," the girl said obsequiously. I mentally cursed.
"Sorry, Aayla," I said peaceably. "My nerves are shot. You did excellent work on Rothana."
"Thank you, my lord," she smiled. "Colonel Romulus Ameron has the system and production facilities fully under control. He's already calculated that Rothana, even at its peak capacity, won't be able to supply our army with all the necessary equipment."
"Another problem," I said, chewing my lip. Hutt, how did this happen? I fooled myself. "I'll solve it soon. Otherwise, is everything on Rothana proceeding according to plan?"
"Admiral Zaarin has already sent the lead ships — the planetary defense systems are completely under our control. Except for the Assertors."
"Yes, those things are a problem," I admitted. "We'll lose a lot of ships if we try to take them in a line battle. I need to figure out how to disable them by the time the Empire strikes."
"Soon, my lord?" the girl smiled. I shook my head negatively.
"As long as Zakuul doesn't have a secure rear, as long as the main shipyards aren't operational — it's not even worth thinking about a full-scale battle with the Republic or the CIS. The core territories are barely getting into shape to become self-sufficient sectors capable of striking without collapsing when hit back. There are months of work ahead, so... Besides, our economy... it's a disaster. If it weren't for Vitiate's reserves, our little plunder of the Republic's two-year budget, and the practically free construction at the New Forge — we'd have gone bankrupt long ago. The ISB is barely coping with the flood of refugees seeking citizenship. As long as we're chasing barbarians around Wild Space, our current forces and ships will be enough. But when the galaxy catches fire... even fifteen million clones — both those produced in the Empire and those placed under my command — assuming they all remain loyal to me — might not be enough. Palpatine clearly has no intention of creating his own cloned bastards on the same scale as Fett's clones. That means we need even more clones — at least a billion. Given that the fleet will be primarily crewed by Christophsians, unlike the Republic where cloned crews are on every second starship, at least, a billion shock troopers is what we can start a war with. And again, it all depends on how many more clones our Kaminoan brothers-in-mind can produce."
"Yes, I read Lama Su's report that the donor's genetic material will run out in six months at the current production rates," Secura recalled. "He suggests finding a new one..."
"Everything new is well-forgotten old," I snorted. "I have a suitable donor. But I'll settle that with the Prime Minister myself."
"As you command, Imperator," the girl bowed, then froze in a listening pose.
"I've missed you too, Aayla," I smiled. The girl answered me with the same guilty smile. Yes, talking about pleasant things almost immediately after the death of a mutual friend was a bit amoral. "As soon as I'm done here, I'll return to Christophsis. We have a lot to do. Including personal matters."
"I will be waiting for you impatiently, my lord," Secura assured me, ending the call.
Leaning back in the luxurious seat in the Black Overlord's conference room, I allowed myself a few moments of peace. There was never enough time. The daily grind, constant crises demanding personal intervention... How tired I was of these many-sided games, where you always had to keep in mind who you could tell what, and who was better off lying to.
Honestly, I was sick to death of it. And after Mortis, all this fuss over dosing information, even to my closest companions, was just revolting.
But I had to live with it. In no state — totalitarian or democratic — does any ruler's assistant know everything. The Eternal Empire was no exception.
My head was splitting from the sheer volume of information. As soon as communication with the outside world was re-established, I was literally flooded with reports from guard commanders, assistant reports, army activities...
Yes, it was no easy task to weave a conspiracy on a galactic scale. No wonder Palpatine lost his mind when he finally stopped playing games with the Jedi. The old man had burned out from overwork.
Though, I had to give him credit for his endurance. He had lived like this for decades, the way I had for the last year or so.
Yes, mysterious are your ways, the Force.
"Sir," the comlink beeped with one of the clones' gloomy voice. "Ships from Lady Vette's squadron have entered the system."
"Why the gloomy tone?" I didn't catch his meaning.
"The commander forbade us to greet them with a full broadside," the clone lamented.
"Of course," I said. I hoped he didn't take offense at my satisfied chuckle. "The power of this dreadnought is enough to carry out a Base Delta Zero order on a single planet all by itself."
"Really, sir?" The Sinner brightened up. "Can we...?"
"Is that you, Sinner?" I identified him immediately.
"Yes, sir."
"Hands itching?"
"Yes, sir. Haven't burned anything in a week."
"I promise you, Sinner — if things don't work out for me on the planet below, you three, along with Necromancer and Korr, can burn it to the ground."
"Really, sir?" Excitement crackled at the other end, followed by a hushed whisper of "Guys, they're letting us burn a planet!" accompanied by my quiet laughter. Honestly, they might look twenty or thirty years old, but once you pulled out those inhibitor chips, childish pranks came crawling out of every crack. God, what an awful thing — waging war with an army of children. Memories stirred of the so-called "Children's Crusade," where medieval European schoolchildren had tried to bring peace and Christianity to the Muslim world.
"Of course, Sinner," I sighed, the exhale coming out more sorrowful than I'd intended. "When have I ever lied to you, my children?"