Although the Jedi Order had intentionally removed the planet Ilum from all standard star charts centuries ago, nearly every Jedi in training dreamed of visiting the sacred secret planet in the Unknown Regions. All because generations of Jedi had gathered crystals for their lightsabers on Ilum. And some Jedi who had set crystals from Ilum became the best in the galaxy.
Fashioning a lightsaber from a crystal on Ilum wasn't considered the most challenging test of a padawan's talents, but for any of them, it was an internal moral confirmation that they had nearly become a Jedi Knight. Yes, of course, there were still the Trials to pass, and that could sometimes take years. But the first lightsaber, assembled with one's own hands — that was the first real proof that you had stepped onto the path leading to the end of your time as a padawan.
And if anyone valued the chance to become a better version of their past self, it was Hanna Ding.
The Arkianian, inhaling the frosty air, took a few steps through the snow. Her boots left impressions in the white thickness of snow just a few centimeters deep — the girl's weight, even in thick winter clothes, wasn't excessive enough to break through the frozen snow crust and bury her beneath it.
"You're doing well," came a male voice from the depths of the ship in which they had arrived here. He was still moving cautiously — his damaged spine, despite cybernetic enhancements, periodically shot pain that coursed through his entire body. Except for his left arm, which from the shoulder joint to the fingertips was a prosthetic. Metallic, made of durasteel covered with synthskin to make it indistinguishable from the rest of his body.
"I'm trying, teacher," the girl tried to smile, but it came out... Extremely awkwardly. The muscles of her face were tight in some places, slack in others — the aftermath of the disfigurement she had suffered when a Hutt Separatist droid had fired a rocket launcher at her.
"Not teacher," the Zabrak shook his head, whose gaze, full of molten gold, had stopped causing her unconscious shivers every time she looked up at him. "Master."
"Yes, Master Maul," Hanna inclined her head forward in a respectful bow. "Forgive me."
"The sooner you leave your Jedi tricks behind, the better," Maul scraped, pacing through the snow on his metal limbs. "Don't stand there like a pillar. Let's go."
Hanna cast a glance at the Shadow Collective starship in which she and her new mentor had arrived here. Through the snow-white atmosphere of Ilum, the former padawan could see dozens more ships like it descending from orbit. Wrapping herself more tightly in her fur jacket, the girl moved forward with slow steps — after cybernization, her body hadn't fully recovered yet, and she couldn't move as fast as before her injury.
However, compared to the future that awaited her on Coruscant — disability and the impossibility of a full existence for the rest of her life — what was happening to her now... Was far better.
After her injury, when a B2 super battle droid's rocket had turned her into a cripple, disfiguring her face, tearing off her left arm, and damaging her spine, she had been taken to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Unfortunately, neither Aubrie Wyn's initial help nor even the use of healing Fire Crystals could fully restore her. Restoring the functionality of the nervous system and removing fragments of some vertebrae — that was all the Jedi could do for her. The Republic surgeons at the Central Republic Medical Center, which was connected to the Jedi Temple by a network of turbolifts, achieved a bit more — they managed to restore the integrity of the spine, returning several displaced parts to their place.
Beyond that, neither the Jedi nor the Republic could help her. And the attending physician had said outright that she faced a future as an invalid, unable to even care for herself: the girl's legs did not obey her mind, and installing a prosthetic instead of a left arm didn't help matters — she still couldn't walk.
She would have to spend the rest of her life in a hospital bed. Ugly, helpless, and forgotten. Her previous teacher, Obi-Wan, according to the Jedi healers' reports, had visited her while she was unconscious. But she had never seen him after she regained consciousness. Master Yoda said the reason was Master Kenobi's busy schedule on the front lines. Yet information reaching her suggested that the Jedi — for whose approval she had become a burden — had nevertheless found time to go to Mandalore to save the Duchess. And even after that, he spent more than one day on Coruscant and didn't find even a minute to look in on his former padawan. Especially when his rescue attempt ended with the Duchess's death.
Then everything became perfectly clear to Hanna.
Obi-Wan was completely indifferent to the fact that those around him suffered and were maimed. He blindly followed the Jedi Code and didn't think it was anything shameful to erase from memory the victims of those who had suffered near him.
Her dislike for her former teacher, whom she had once idolized, dreaming of becoming his student, grew rather quickly — the seed of discontent had fallen on fertile ground.
So when, after another examination at the Central Republic Medical Center, the transport she and a couple of other Jedi were taking back to the Temple was attacked by mercenaries, she begged the Force for a random blaster shot to end her mortal existence.
But reality can spring surprises.
The militants of the Shadow Collective, in whom she was surprised to recognize Mandalorian soldiers from Death Watch, dealt with the Jedi and the ship's crew, after which they delivered Hanna, unable to offer any resistance, to Darth Maul.
The conversation with the Zabrak turned out... Substantial. Quite skillfully, playing on the girl's resentment toward Obi-Wan, he managed to recruit her, tempting her — truthfully — more with the offer to help her become a fully functional being again. Naturally, she couldn't resist such an offer.
The illegal and often experimental implant surgeries, which replaced damaged areas of her body in patches, had lasted for several days without a break. The girl had been in a coma the entire time and didn't even know where that laboratory was, whose wizards had put her back on her feet. From head to toe, she was now mottled with metal, which, however, wasn't too conspicuous and wasn't anything bulky. On the contrary, her new parts gleamed with elegance and had a rather attractive appearance. No wires, indicators, or other attributes common in official medicine. Even the new arm prosthetic, which perfectly replicated the shape of her right upper limb, was transformed once it was covered with synthflesh.
The final stage of her medical transformation was facial plastic surgery. She had specifically asked Maul for it — the young girl didn't want to remain a freak. The Zabrak had long refused, considering it a stupid woman's whim, but yesterday, unexpectedly for her, he announced a positive decision. True, he said that first she needed to go with him to one place…
Their journey's destination turned out to be Ilum. The place where she had been as part of a group of younglings several years ago — to choose a crystal for her lightsaber. Her Jedi weapon had been lost in the last battle. And you didn't need to be a genius to understand the reason why she and her new teacher, who had opened the paths of the Dark Side to her, ended up in this snow-covered world.
The only thing that remained unknown was why there were so many other Shadow Collective ships here.
She only caught up with her teacher at the entrance to the ancient Jedi temple itself, buried in ice. Inside, thousands of kilometers of passages stretched through the permafrost. The younglings, sent on the so-called "gathering," had to find a crystal for their future lightsaber during the time when the sunlight of the local star held back the ice crust, which served as a kind of door preventing outsiders from entering.
"Master?" the girl said, looking around and pointing at a small ship bearing distinctive colors. "There are Republicans here!"
"There are Jedi here," Maul snarled, removing his weapon from his belt.
"Yes," the girl said, listening to her feelings. "Now I feel it too. A teacher and an apprentice."
"Excellent, my apprentice," Maul approved, watching as half of the central entrance was already covered in ice. "They don't have much time left."
"Will we wait?" the girl asked distrustfully.
"There's no other way out of here," the Zabrak said confidently. "They'll either come out to us, or they'll die inside from the cold."
With these words, the red-skinned Zabrak, covered in black tattoos, began to examine the Republic ship with a crooked smirk.
As for Hanna… She didn't understand much.
"Master," she called out quietly to the man. "I thought we were here so I could assemble my lightsaber…"
"And that's part of it," the Zabrak said.
"What about those ships?" she pointed to the numerous starships that were already coming in to land at some distance from them. "What are they doing here?"
"Their job," Maul replied vaguely, nodding toward the Republic starship. "They have a good ship. After we deal with the Jedi, make arrangements to have it taken to our base on Mustafar."
"As you command," Hanna obediently responded. "But…"
"But?" The Zabrak looked at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
"It would be easier for me… If you shared information with me," the girl said, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat. "Kenobi never let me in on his plans and…"
"Kenobi," a rumbling roar of rage tore from the Sith's throat. "Jedi scum… Don't you dare compare me to him."
"Of course," the girl sighed.
They were silent for several minutes. Then, the Zabrak unexpectedly asked:
"Why do you think I need you?"
"To pass on your knowledge," Hanna said in amazement. Maul shook his head.
"No."
"Then…" The girl couldn't find the right words. After all, the option she'd stated was the most logical!
"I need an heir to my work," the Sith looked at her. "And your candidacy is perfect. You hate the Jedi and the Republic. Plus, you have a personal score to settle with my enemy, Kenobi. You are the most suitable candidate. Yes, now I see it…"
"And you didn't notice that before?" Hanna was surprised. "I thought you understood that, and that's why you freed me."
"No," the Zabrak shook his head. For a moment, he closed his eyes, shrouding himself in the Dark Side of the Force. "Yes… The Jedi have sensed us. They'll be here soon."
The Arkanian was starting to like what was happening less and less.
Maul had freed her first, and only then realized she was suitable for him. How does that even work?
They were preparing to meet the Jedi — a teacher and an apprentice — but only Maul himself was armed and capable of at least matching them. She… She couldn't even run properly! Not to mention she had no weapon!
"My rescue wasn't part of your plan," the girl realized. "Someone told you to do it!"
The Zabrak, who had been admiring his weapon until then, looked at his apprentice with curiosity.
"An interesting deduction," he smirked. "Yes, you're right. I have a powerful ally who told me about you. Sending a group of loyal Mandalorians to track you down and free you was a matter of technique. Securing your loyalty was easier than it seems. You, like me, want very much to live. And to take revenge. I gave you that opportunity. I put you back on your feet and am ready to give you knowledge of the Dark Side of the Force, enough to kill Kenobi."
"I don't want to kill him," the girl shook her head. She didn't miss the fact that her last phrase had made the Sith noticeably tense. "I want to destroy him!"
The Zabrak bared his teeth.
"Excellent, my apprentice," he approved. "You are what I need — both for destroying Kenobi and for continuing the Shadow Collective's work."
"I will do my utmost to absorb everything you are willing to give me," Hanna assured him. She felt a previously unfamiliar wave of anger rising inside her. So fierce, so pure that it made her dizzy.
After her injury, she could barely feel the Force as she used to. She had even sadly compared herself to Tallisibeth Esterhazy — the weakest of those she had known in the Order.
But now… Now her capabilities were far beyond anything she had managed to learn in the Temple. The power that the Dark Side offered her was blinding. Hanna felt she was turning into a hardened predator — something she had never even dreamed of in the Temple. Her senses were sharpened to the limit. Her perception had spread its nets for hundreds of meters. She could easily sense a couple of glowing Jedi sparks, moving quickly toward the exit from the labyrinth of the Jedi temple on Ilum. They would be here soon.
She told her mentor this.
"Perfect," he grinned, turning the upper and lower parts of his weapon in opposite directions with both hands. As a result, the lightsaber pike split into two neat halves — two traditional lightsabers.
He tossed one of the hilts to the apprentice, who caught it with her left artificial hand, with a dexterity previously unattainable to her. Her thumb easily found the activation button.
The Zabrak and the Arkanian ignited their weapons in sync. Hanna, seeing a blade half a meter long, immediately found the length adjuster and doubled the crimson burst of deadly energy. Maul only nodded approvingly at her.
"Remember, apprentice," he said, assuming a traditional stance for the fifth form of lightsaber combat. "Finding you crystals for your lightsaber is only part of our task. Killing the Jedi is your test. I am confident you will pass it with honor. And then, we will fulfill our part of the deal with my ally."
"To rob the Ilum deposits of lightsaber crystals?" the girl flashed her erudition. Meeting her mentor's gaze, she explained. "Otherwise, why would we be here at all. Lightsaber crystals can be found in a simpler way. And the coordinates of this planet aren't in open sources. Your ally gave them to you so that your hands could deprive the Jedi of their only source of crystals."
"Astonishing cleverness," the Zabrak laughed. "Truly, he was not mistaken about you. Yes, that's right. We will take everything from here and hand it over to his people."
"What does he need it all for? Wants to sell it on the black market?" the girl asked, noticing out of the corner of her eye those who had come out from under the arch of the Jedi temple. Familiar faces. Frankly weak Jedi — some runts from the Balance Corps. "And why is he doing it through the Shadow Collective?"
"He prefers to act from the shadows," Maul revealed. "It's an excellent tactic, one we use as well. As for the crystals… They make wonderful weapons. Bring me the head of that Padawan, and I will tell you more."
"With pleasure, my master," Hanna said, with a hidden anticipation of bloodshed.
Her revenge on the Order would begin with the killing of these worthless Jedi.
And on the Republic.
Letting out an enraged roar that echoed through the surroundings, the cyborg Arkanian launched herself from her spot.
A few minutes of fierce fighting later, she threw at her master's feet — who was impaling an Aqualish Jedi with his crimson blade — the severed head of a Nautolan Padawan.
The beginning had been made.
* * *
At first, the lightheartedly ecstatic dizziness surprised Ahsoka when she sat down in the chair assigned to her in the tactical hall of the Spirit of Fire, which was in hyperspace, and then even gave her some pleasure. They were really here… The operations headquarters of the Blade Fleet. She never thought she'd take part in a briefing like this… After so many soldiers had died because of her. Glancing at Oli sitting next to her, she noted that the other girl was in the same state. Unexpected, coming from the Emperor.
Since the previous briefing, this hall had undergone several changes. First of all — instead of the table surrounded by chairs, the room now had several dozen chairs arranged in several rows against one wall, and about five chairs opposite them. In front of the latter was the aforementioned table, behind which sat the Emperor. On either side of him sat the red-haired adjutant Mara Cross and Admiral Declann. Two more seats were empty.
But the rows of other chairs were packed to capacity. In the first row sat Marshal Master from the 5th Assault Corps, Marshal Ded from the 6th Landing Corps along with Padawan Zett Jukassa, Cody from the 7th Landing Corps, Nyx, Flash, Titus, Kaymaker, Dsuu, Padawans Nuru Kungurama, Bene, Whie Malreaux, Tallisibeth Esterhazy.
In the second row were Marshal Lodbrok and Jedi Knight Xiaan Amersu from the 178th Reconnaissance Corps, Marshal Hellagen, Master B'ink Utrila and her Padawan Rennax Omani from the 190th Assault Corps, Master Racha Sitra and Marshal Sinilian from the 212th Reconnaissance Corps, Marshal Bly from the 327th Star Corps.
The third and fourth rows were occupied by Larant Tarak and the commanders of commando units, most of whom Ahsoka didn't know, but she recognized a few. Alf, Balda, Niner, Boss, Sergeant — the commander of the Aiwha Squad. To her surprise, Ahsoka noted that only the commando unit commanders attached to Dougan's Fist were present — why the rest were absent remained a mystery for now.
The Padawans themselves and Aayla were seated in the last, fifth row. Both girls felt uncomfortable looking their teacher in the eye, and Secura, it seemed, intended to spend the entire briefing alone. Well, she should have reported that right away.
Dougan rose from his seat at the head of the table — judging by the expression on his face and the echo in the Force, he had had a good time after the interrogation. Through their Bond, Ahsoka didn't feel that he was tired or… Ahem.
"Looks like he slept alone tonight," Oli leaned over and whispered to her.
"Unexpected," Ahsoka admitted. "I thought he… Well, with the Twi'lek… Would spend the night…"
"You weren't the only one who thought that," Aayla Secura added barely audibly from beside her, despite the clear chagrin in her voice — still strong and divinely serene on the surface.
"Let's get some quiet, shall we?" Dougan asked, staring thoughtfully, even absently, at something outside the hall. "Daalang has been taken. That's good. But we lost many good fighters. It's sad when good people die because of miscalculations by intelligence and command. Unfortunately, we won't be able to attend the memorial service — the situation on the Outer Rim has changed. Slightly, but it opens up additional opportunities for us. Captain Cross, the floor is yours."
The girl sitting on the Emperor's right stood up. As always, she was dressed in a Republic Navy uniform, her lush red hair neatly tucked under her regulation headgear.
"Shortly before the loss of contact with the Core, we were tasked with assaulting a number of Separatist planets. There are three targets in total, two of which are in our area of responsibility — with General Unduli and, actually, with us. The attack was supposed to follow the completion of our operation to reach the Corellian Trade Route. Retaking the shipyards at Allantine could have helped us immensely, but it seems the Separatists have calculated that possibility. Our information is fragmentary — we mostly get it from the Hutts, so its value is… Well, ambiguous. Allantine has fallen. It was captured by a powerful group under the command of General Grievous. About a thousand ships. From the same agents, we know that before moving on Allantine, General Grievous completely annihilated Master Ki-Adi-Mundi's fleet and his forces on Umbara. Furthermore, they destroyed all Republic forces from Umbara to Denon. Thus, the barrier between us and the central system armies has grown even larger. Which, in turn, eliminates any expediency in liberating the shipyards of Allantin IV. So, we can state once again — we are cut off from the center and left to our own devices."
"Is anything known about the fate of Master Mundi?" Sitra rose from her seat.
"Nothing," Cross shook her head. "But, knowing the General's attitude toward Jedi, he is either dead or captured. For now, our specialists on Christophsis are trying to tap into the CIS's Shadow Broadcast — it's propaganda, but at least it might help us understand the situation. Also, according to intelligence, the Republic is in no hurry to restore the hyperspace transmitters."
"How is that possible?" Rennax Omani was taken aback. "Have they abandoned us to our fate?"
"Without communication, we're fighting blind," Marshal Sinilian supported her. "We can destroy any droid in our path, of course, but what about the main strategy?"
"An excellent question," the Grand Moff rose from his seat. "We have one strategy — clear the rear, straighten the front line, destroy as many Separatist bastards as possible, and hold the positions we've taken."
"How?" Marshal Ded rose from his seat. "We have plenty of infantry, but the ships… If Grievous has a thousand ships under his command, how many are there in total within the sectors under Separatist control?"
"Approximately eight to ten thousand," Cross reported. Murmuring broke out in the hall. "These estimates include ships of all classes — from frigate to battleship."
"And two Admonitor-class dreadnoughts," Marshal Master reminded.
"Yes, one of them is currently on Allantine," Dougan replied, almost too simply.
Ahsoka leaned forward with interest. Something was happening here, but what exactly…
"We must send a request for help to Coruscant," Master Utrila said. "The Grand Master won't abandon us in our time of need, nor will the Supreme Chancellor…"
"Excuse me," Admiral Declann drew attention to himself. "The rest of the army is already aware — from soldiers and volunteers to the Jedi. But we have precise information that the Republic doesn't give a damn about us."
"What do you mean?" Lodbrok asked in bewilderment.
"It's simple," Dougan sighed. "It's unpleasant to admit, but… In general, the Republic, at the instigation of the Supreme Chancellor and with the approval of the Jedi Order Council — those not in our area — is pursuing a policy of total cleansing of sectors from the Core Worlds to the Inner Rim of Separatist forces. As for us, though we weren't asked, we've been assigned the role of bait for all of the Separatists' mobile forces."
"Sir," Marshal Nyx rose from his seat. Looking at those present, he said quietly. "But that's… betrayal."
"Watch your language, Marshal!" Whie Malreaux jumped up from his seat. "Jedi do not betray their own!"
"Then how do you explain, Commander," Kaymaker addressed him, "that knowing we're up against almost ten thousand ships, and we can field no more than two thousand, the Republic isn't sending us help, but is just cleaning up its own territories?"
"It's hard to call it anything other than 'they've written us off,'" Bly, who had been silent until now, joined the majority opinion. "With all due respect to those present…"
"This… There has to be a logical explanation for this," Rennax Omani stubbornly insisted.
"Find it, Commander," Dougan suggested. "I've been racking my brain all night over what's happening, and I couldn't come up with anything. Neither could anyone in the headquarters or among the army and Jedi who already know about this. On that note, we'll end this part of our discussion. If the Republic and the Order have put us in this position, it doesn't reflect well on them. As for me," Dougan placed particular emphasis on this, "I intend to solve this problem. For those who don't believe we won't end up as a pile of bones under the feet of metal trash cans — that's your choice, but I don't recall ever letting anyone down. Everyone draws their own conclusions. Are there any who wish to leave this briefing?"
There were none.
"Well then, let's move on to the main point," Dougan declared. "Until communication with Coruscant is restored and the situation is clarified, we will follow the latest orders and act according to the situation. Our Hutt allies, though not for free — I'd even say very much not for free — are ready to help us restore communication within our three system armies. This will allow us to establish contact not only within individual sectors, but also between them. That's the good news — since we're going to have to carry out tasks as one large army, I'd even say a family, coordinating forces and assets within the besieged part of the Outer and Mid Rim is our direct responsibility. I hope that's clear."
A hologram of a planet appeared above the table.
"This is Saleucami. Until recently, this world was defended by General Grievous's enormous fleet — along with that very dreadnought that makes most Republic soldiers' knees tremble at the mere mention of it," laughter rippled through the hall. "Now, according to our agents, there are just over a hundred ships there — mostly Generous-class and the ancient junk of the Trade Federation — Kontos-class battleships."
"Admiral, if you're ready…" Dougan looked at Declann.
"Always."
Nial rose and connected to a portable holographic projector.
"The planet is under the control of the Techno Union, with numerous factories for producing weapons and battle droids. Flora and fauna are poor, the landscapes bleak, the climate arid, and most of the surface is desert with no possibility of replenishing water or food supplies. And yet, in some circles, Saleucami is still called the 'Oasis' probably because it's the only planet where life can exist."
"It looks like only droids could survive there," Marshal Hellagen commented. Muffled laughter was heard.
Nial grunted and continued:
"Saleucami's defenses rest mainly on space platforms from the InterGalactic Banking Clan — the kind they used to defend Muunilinst, though it didn't help them much. But here there are just over fifty of them. Fortunately for us, the platforms have no engines of their own; they can only maintain a stable orbit, and that's it. If we can clear a large enough area of them, we can consider the first line of defense breached. Ideally, we'd neutralize all the platforms, but that's impossible. Besides the platforms, as I mentioned, the planet is guarded by Separatist starships. Their exact number is currently unknown to us, but we know for sure that Grievous took almost all of them — apparently hoping to meet us at Gamorr and finish us off for good. Inappropriate as it may be to say, our delay on Daalang gave us the chance to miss this bloodthirsty bastard. Either way, we must not forget that the platforms, the ships, and especially the planet's surface all have enemy squadrons."
"That's a tough nut to crack," Kaymaker muttered.
Declann clasped his hands behind his back.
"But all this is nothing compared to the planet's shield."
A pained groan arose among those present, especially among the clones and Jedi of Dougan's Fist.
On the holographic map, the listed objects were marked in various colors. When the shield was mentioned, Saleucami was covered by two spheres — one inside the other.
"To take the planet, we need to bring down both shields."
"Couldn't we just lay down a blockade with space mines?" Lodbrok asked without much hope. "Haul them from Hypori and…"
"There are many ways to achieve our goal," Dougan said. "And when I say 'our goal,' I mean the capture of the planet itself. I'll explain why. We are cut off from the main army supply routes — and effectively exist only thanks to Hutt support, the food base on Ukio, the tibanna we got from Melida/Daan, and the medical supplies from Christophsis and Kamino. The Rothana shipyards are currently being reconfigured to ease the burden on our heavy equipment and ships — perhaps soon our fleet will be supplemented with completely new models of weapons in large quantities. But Saleucami is, first and foremost, a source of droids and weapons for the Separatists in this region. Take it and Boz Pity, and the Separatists in this region will have no nodal fleet or army bases left. We will fully link up with General Unduli's forces, instead of tempting fate on the thin trickle of the Triellus Trade Route. Right now, we are moving through Hutt Space toward our forward base on the planet Teth. Yes, that very one, Marshal Nyx, where we freed a little Hutt about a year ago."
"That's hard to forget, sir," the clone rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'll bet," Dougan snorted. "There, we'll take on ammunition and supplies from the support ships, and receive a replacement of personnel. Also, General Tra'saa's 9th Assault Corps and General Tolm's 21st Galactic Infantry Corps will be joining us — they've been living there all this time, guarding our rear."
"For which we give them a huge thank you," Marshal Ded pronounced amidst general laughter.
"Will we have enough strength to blockade Saleucami while the ground forces capture the surface?" Marshal Master inquired.
"The Blade Fleet is participating in the operation, reinforced by two new Valiant-class carriers and twenty Marauders," Mara Cross explained.
"That should be enough to destroy the Separatist fleet and hold the system," Dougan agreed. "Especially since, according to reports from the Hutts, Grievous took practically all the capital ships with him on his punitive expedition to Allantine."
"And what if Grievous moves his forces toward us?" Aayla asked. "How long would it take him to get from his current position to Saleucami?"
"Two days," Cross replied. "And, actually, we're hoping he does come."
"Excuse me," Balda raised his hand. "I thought we were serving in the Republic army, not a suicide club."
Nervous laughter rippled through the hall.
"The calculation is that upon learning of the attack on Saleucami, Grievous will move against us, leaving some of his forces on Allantine," Dougan explained. "This will allow our people to pull up the rest of the reserves, knock the Separatists off the shipyards, and establish control there."
"Forgive me, but you said capturing that planet wasn't advantageous for us," Marshal Titus reminded.
"When Grievous's fleet is there — yes," Declann agreed. "When he leaves, Rear Admiral Zsinj will strike, and forces under General Keto's command will capture the planet."
"But then what's the point of capturing Saleucami if we can't hold it before they return to the planet and destroy our forces?"
"Even if Grievous returns," Dougan smiled, "that fleet is unlikely to pose much of a threat to us."
"Excuse me?" Master Utrila didn't understand.
"We managed to negotiate with the new masters of Hypori — they will hand over the Separatist mines to us," Declann explained. "Our ships will lay minefields along Grievous's route, and he'll lose part of his fleet. We hope a large part."
"And if not?" the Lethan persisted.
"This part of the operation has been calculated down to the last detail," the admiral winced. "At best, only a couple of hundred badly battered ships from Grievous's fleet will return to Saleucami. We'll handle them."
"How? Doesn't this plan involve fighting the orbital platforms, the Separatist fleet ships in Saleucami's orbit, and then a subsequent landing?" Marshal Titus asked. "I'm not a navy man, but I understand there will be casualties."
"We have a separate plan for breaking through Saleucami's defenses," Dougan replied vaguely.
"Total annihilation of all the Separatists, I hope?" Lodbrok chimed in. "Because otherwise…"
"With all due respect, Marshal," Declann retorted, "total destruction of the Saleucami defense system is a lousy plan. A planet we capture by destroying its defense systems will be a planet we can't hold."
"Then what are we supposed to do?"
"Starve them out."
Ahsoka agreed with the admiral. And judging by the faces of the others, by their emissions in the Force — every single person present agreed. But after the meat grinder at Daalang… each one wanted to be sure that such a massacre wouldn't happen again. That, and not any distrust of command, was the reason for all these questions.
"To drop the shields, you have to test their strength — that's standard doctrine. The debris is unlikely to fly upward…" Secura said. "Taking the planet isn't the hard part, but what do you do with it afterward? And where will they get new deflector generators to replace the blown-up ones?"
"Why destroy something that could be useful to us?" Dougan grinned. "No, esteemed colleagues. We'll wait for General Grievous to return to Saleucami and let him personally take down the shields for us, rolling out the red carpet all the way to the surface."
A stifling silence fell over the hall.
Seeing that those assembled hadn't quite understood him, the Emperor began to explain his plan, as they say, "with simple words."
* * *
Nearly an hour passed before R'Lair reached the place where his ship was hidden. And, it must be said, it was quite a walk.
The vegetation around — and across the whole planet — was teeming with life, but as he moved through the jungle, he didn't spot any local fauna larger than a gizka. Still, the scout didn't let his guard down.
The data he'd acquired in this system was far too valuable to let some snake or local predator make a meal of him.
He'd already lost count of the days he'd spent on this planet. A place where high technology, unlike anything he'd ever seen, coexisted with the barbaric customs of the local tribes.
Which he'd also never seen before.
Sure, the galaxy was big, with many races, but at least some detail was known about all of them. Here, though… R'Lair had encountered a completely unknown species.
Aggressive, bloodthirsty, warlike.
Getting lost in a crowd of numerous slaves wasn't hard. They were so beaten down here that they didn't even seem surprised by the appearance of a new Twi'lek.
Slave labor here was truly hard labor.
Everything fell on the slaves' shoulders: erecting enormous temples from monolithic stone blocks, building cities and structures, laying roads, repairing equipment, cultivating fields, and herding cattle.
The scout had managed to visit most of the slave settlements on the planet — and everywhere, it was the same picture. Complete dominance of the ruling race and slaves eking out a miserable existence. Even the slaves' rations were just enough to keep them from starving. R'Lair saw neither the strength nor the desire to start an uprising here. Building a resistance here was pointless. There were several million slaves and a little over a hundred thousand of their masters. If they wanted, even an unarmed mob could stage a successful coup. If they had the will.
Which they didn't.
R'Lair couldn't see more than a few meters through the dense vegetation, but by gauging the landmarks, he knew he was close. Through the thick curtain of tangled vines and interwoven tree branches, occasional clearings in the forest were visible, but his path lay much deeper.
He'd landed his stealth X-wing deep in the forest. Where nothing indicated any presence of the locals.
In the fighter's cockpit, he'd left clothes, weapons, and communication equipment. Using them here, when he could be discovered at any moment with a slave holding something he wasn't supposed to have, would have been stupid.
Especially after spotting in the system what were, albeit small, still spaceships. Mostly unarmed transports, but with rather massive armor protection. And extremely fast for their class…
But what worried him most wasn't even the presence of any sort of battle-capable fleet belonging to a potential enemy.
A huge space station, a massive metal ball surrounded by three enormous ridges, even though it was located in the upper atmosphere of the local star, still raised quite a lot of questions.
He'd never managed to get inside — only the masters visited the station, and even then, only a few. Slaves weren't allowed there at all. The masters kept their most important secrets from them. And what else could that station be but a huge secret?
Cautious conversation with other slaves gave him some answers.
The locals called the object in the sky "the Forge." As R'Lair understood it, it was some kind of automated factory, periodically turning out either new ships or new weapons for the masters. New specimens of the masters' equipment also reached the planet from there.
What was more interesting was something else. According to some slaves, the masters didn't really understand what it was they had in their hands. How it worked, on what principles its systems operated — the masters understood that very, very poorly. At the level of "I can turn it on, but I can't fix it."
The art of constructing "Forges" had been lost by the masters many millennia ago, but thanks to the records of their ancestors, they could still do some things. But they certainly couldn't build a similar station from scratch. On one hand, that was good — they wouldn't have to expect surprises from the Rakata. A single station could be easily handled by an entire fleet — again, a pure assumption, since the station's defensive capabilities and armament remained a mystery. But if there were several stations here… then there would be far more problems.
The question also remained how many such stations there were in other star systems of the Rakata Archipelago, besides the one R'Lair had discovered in the Makatak system. It was quite possible that this planet was one of the least developed, and a completely different picture could be found on other planets.
The Twi'lek had almost reached the location of his ship when he heard unfamiliar speech.
More precisely, he had heard this speech before. Here, on the planet Makatak.
The language of the Rakata.
Slowing to a calm walk, R'Lair crouched low to minimize his silhouette. Creeping forward, he barely parted the stems of the bushes growing at the edge of the clearing where his ship was parked.
Seventh hell!
Two Rakata were walking around his X-wing.
Armed with vibro-axes, they were examining the fighter with great curiosity. Its silhouette differed from their own as much as the Rakata themselves differed from the typical races of the galaxy.
The Twi'lek ground his teeth.
If he had a blaster, everything would be so much simpler…
But right now, all he had were his hands, his feet, and the rag that served as clothing for the local slaves…
And time to think was even shorter — even a complete idiot could figure out how to open the cockpit. And these two soldiers — an obvious patrol that had somehow ended up in this area — didn't look like complete idiots.
Glancing at the bush, the Twi'lek, with a sigh (how primitive!), broke off a fairly hefty branch, the crack drawing the attention of both Rakata.
Gripping his improvised spear more comfortably, he turned to the two guards and charged at them as they turned toward the noise and spotted him. A moment for their reaction. A few steps for the Twi'lek.
A moment when they swung their vibro-axes around. A few more steps. They aimed their weapons. R'Lair lunged forward, under their strikes.
If they had acted in coordination from the start, he wouldn't have had a chance. But right now, with this pair acting individually…
Dodging a strike from the first warrior, the Twi'lek pushed aside the axe the Rakata was holding with both hands and, with a short motion, thrust his improvised weapon into the Rakata's throat. Squinting his eyes against the fountain of blood, he experienced for a moment all the delights of warm enemy blood droplets on his face, but there was no time for relaxation.
Pushing the dead body away, he tore the weapon from the fallen enemy's hands, spun it in his grip. A heavy thing, clearly designed for a being with stronger muscles to wield, but discarding a useful item was not the way.
Even though he already understood that the fighters he'd encountered were far from the best, treating an opponent without proper caution usually risked an accidental fall down a shaft. So the Twi'lek approached the task of dealing with his opponent with all seriousness.
The axes met with a dull thud. His muscles ached — even if this Rakata was poorly trained, and his close-combat skills, judging by his characteristic movements, left much to be desired, he was still larger and physically stronger.
But as clumsy as a rancor.
Parrying his sweeping thrusts and blows, R'Lair let the Rakata push him back, pretending to have his back pressed against a thick local tree trunk. In reality, most of that trunk's mass was made up of viscous, extremely sticky resin — the Twi'lek had learned that the hard way right after landing, when he'd tried to build a small fire and cook some nerf meat. The ease with which a seemingly dry branch had glued the vibro-axe from the stealth X-wing pilot's emergency kit to itself had astonished him to the core.
The Rakata swung, intending to take the Twi'lek's head off with one blow. But he missed.
The scout ducked, letting the enemy's weapon stick fast to the resin, drawing a torrent of roaring from him. Then the Twi'lek himself, knocking the enemy off his feet, kicked out his right eye. After that, ignoring the howls and wails, he drove the weapon into the fallen enemy's chest with a swing — a quick and precise kill.
Pulling the axe from the wound, still holding the trophy, he trudged toward the fighter.
"Hey, rusty bucket of bolts," he called out to his astromech, which had been in hibernation the whole time, waiting for its master's return. "Fire up the engines — we're getting out of here."
Listening to the droid's chirping, the Twi'lek opened the cargo compartment and stowed the vibro-axe. The trophy, taken in battle, would take a place of honor on the wall of his home.
* * *
"Supposition. This bag of meat wants to be fed tibanna gas."
Vette, still looking into the eyes of the small creature housed inside the two-meter droid, simply irritably told HK-47 to shut up.
"Objection. A painful, non-lethal wound would only accelerate negotiations with this bag of meat," the assassin droid insisted.
"HK," the Twi'lek girl said, "shut down your vocabulary."
The droid, its optical sensors flashing, muttered, "Regret. This interferes with primary system functions."
"So, let's get back to our negotiations," Vette said.
"After threats of violence?" the Columi clarified. "You have clearly lost our attention."
"If you haven't noticed, esteemed one," the Twi'lek girl sighed wearily, "at my signal, a fleet of the Empire can arrive from our base in the Deep Core and remain here indefinitely in your system. And that's a more than substantial argument for continuing negotiations."
"Your technologies are worthless against our defensive systems," the Columi reminded him. The droid he was in folded its arms across its armored chest. "Furthermore, I doubt your navigation systems have developed efficiently enough for safe travel through the worlds of the Deep Core. And in case of a threat, Columus will be sealed by a planetary shield. You could try to break through it until the Republic falls — the result would be zero. Eventually, you'll get tired of it, and your ships will leave. And we will continue living in peace, as we did before your arrival."
"Well, if you can restore the planet's surface after a hundred asteroids fall on it," the Twi'lek girl shrugged, "then yes. But something tells me that after that, the Columi race would simply cease to exist. After all, you import most of the resources needed to run your cloning industry. And food, too. I didn't think you were ready to doom your race to starvation and a return to the Stone Age."
"You plan to flood our system with asteroids if we refuse to cooperate with the Empire?" the representative inquired.
"Not at all," the Twi'lek girl smirked. "All the asteroids stored aboard our Star Destroyers, ready to be dispatched to the Columus system, will be deposited directly onto the surface of your corpuscular shield — the very one you were just boasting about. Drop it, and all those rocks, under even Columus's weak gravity, will fall to the surface."
"That's a threat," the Columi noted.
"Objection. That is a notification of the consequences of unproductive negotiations!"
"HK!"
"Condescending remark. I was merely correcting this little bag of meat's misconception regarding our intentions!"
"Dial your vocabulary down to zero," Vette said. The droid again grumbled about his diplomatic skills being underestimated.
"The Republic would never conduct a dialogue like this," the Columi remarked.
"We're not from that state," Vette smirked. "So, are you ready to continue the dialogue, representative?"
"More than ready," the Columi droid placed its manipulators on either side of where a living being would have a waist. "What do you want?"
"For the Columi to join the Empire," Vette nodded toward the datapad lying before the representative of one of the galaxy's oldest races.
"That's out of the question," the Columi's unblinking gaze expressed absolutely nothing. "Our race is not interested in submitting to barbaric peoples. We were already conquering the stars while you, humans, Duros, and others, were still shaping stones to make primitive tools and dwellings…"
"And then, about a hundred thousand years ago, you tucked tail and returned to your homeworld, never sticking your nose out again," Vette reminded him.
"That was our decision," the Columi confirmed.
"No one's arguing with that," the girl smirked. "Few peoples could compete with the Celestials in the galaxy. Let alone interfere with their expansion… and you didn't want to be slaves, either. Like the Sharu. So you preferred to keep a low profile. Even now, when the threat from the Celestials has passed."
"The fact that you don't see a slave collar on your own neck doesn't mean the Celestials aren't manipulating you," the Columi noted. "They are everywhere, watching anyone who might pose a threat to their dominion."
"The Celestials are dead," Vette smiled. "The Emperor finished off the last of them, freeing the galaxy from the fate of developing according to their plans and designs."
"Nonsense," the Columi didn't believe it. "No one in this galaxy has come even close to our level of development. Except maybe the Gree and the Kwa… but even they are no match for the Celestials!"
"Your prejudiced view of other races, who are inclined toward physical rather than, like you, intellectual labor, has played a nasty trick on you," Vette stated. "The Celestials destroyed each other in a civil war millennia ago…"
"That is known to us," the Columi interrupted her. "But not all of them perished. And even their small number still poses a threat."
"You're talking about the Family?" the Twi'lek girl clarified. Awaiting confirmation, she revealed the unknown. "The Emperor killed the Father, the Son, and the Daughter. As far as I know, the Mortis Monolith also tried to destroy itself, but it survived the internal explosions. An extremely resilient structure."
"Like the other structures of the Celestials," the Columi noted. "Your technologies are not developed enough to harm what was created by the Celestials."
"It seems to me that it was the Columi who had a hand in the disappearance from the galaxy of a world like Iokath," Vette smiled.
"Yes," the alien agreed with an unblinking gaze. "That was the only way to prevent the Republic from getting their hands on such dangerous technologies."
"As you can see," the Twi'lek girl spread her hands, "the Republic still possesses nothing of the sort. Unlike the Empire. And even then — only thanks to the knowledge of the Kwa, who in their time taught other races to control the To'Yor — simple imitations of the Monolith."
"These are dangerous technologies," even though the Columi were incapable of expressing emotions in the way familiar to the rest of the galaxy, the girl now felt that this particular representative of the ancient race was very agitated. "We will help you destroy them."
"Why would we get rid of something that could advance the Empire's science and technology by thousands of years?"
"For the oppression of other races?" the Columi clarified.
"Objection. The Master responsibly stated that exterminating other bags of meat is an ungrateful, ignoble task, used only in cases of great danger," HK intervened again. "Observation. I fundamentally disagree with this assertion — shooting bags of meat is an extremely entertaining procedure."
"Where is that power core of yours?" Vette frowned, reaching for the assassin droid. However, he stepped back quite nimbly, raising his rifle warningly.
"Declaration. No one except the Master has the right to perform technical work on HK. Statement. Any bag of meat that attempts to do so will be annihilated."
"An interesting droid," the Columi noted. "A very old design. Unusual behavior."
"Yes, this antique knows how to throw surprises," Vette agreed. "But let's get back to the negotiations. As HK said: the Empire is not very keen on conquering other peoples by force of arms. Or exterminating them without good reason."
"Then what do you need the Monolith for? It's a terrible weapon, capable of wiping out worlds in a short time. We've seen that many times in our history."
"The Monolith is a contingency plan," Vette explained. "Its systems are far superior to anything in this galaxy. And one day, in about fifty years, this trump card could help us eliminate a threat of galactic scale."
"What are you talking about?" The droid again folded its arms over its chest.
"How detailed is your knowledge of the Celestials' history?" Vette inquired.
"Everything that happened in this galaxy at their will is documented in our archives."
"Then perhaps you don't know that they came from another galaxy. The very one where they doomed an entire race to extermination with their weapons. And, to their great surprise, they later discovered that this race, the Yuuzhan Vong, not only survived. But with every fiber of their being, they seek to reach their tormentors and inflict a local Exterminatus on them. In the process, destroying most of this galaxy's population — simply because we use mechanical technology, which the Vong themselves suffered from in their time."
"It sounds… rather dubious… but the general points fit the typical pattern of the Celestials' actions toward other races," the Columi declared. "Why are you so sure they will definitely come here?"
"Their scouts are already here," Vette shrugged. "The Imperial fleet has already encountered and defeated them. With heavy losses — the entire battle group needs significant repairs and will be combat-ineffective for a long time. And those were just scout ships. The main invasion fleet will arrive here in about forty or fifty years. Only the Empire is sufficiently militarized to repel such an attack, which will cost trillions of lives."
"It sounds as if you intend to save all the inhabitants of the galaxy."
"The Empire cares nothing for those worlds that do not seek to join it," the girl shrugged. "While the Republic and the Confederacy wage a war of extermination across the galaxy, deciding which of these two rotten structures will continue to exist at the expense of taxpayers and profit from others' grief, the Empire prefers to develop its own economy and fleet, eliminating potential threats and allies of the Vong before they become too strong."
"That doesn't explain the reason why you came to our system, rattling your weapons, and offering us to join your Empire," the Columi said. "Your actions… are extremely illogical."
"On the contrary," Vette stated. "Everything is consistent. The Emperor tasked me with securing your agreement. The fleet is merely a demonstration of our power. You understand now that either the Columi join us and integrate into Imperial society, or they join no one."
"Our people have not the slightest desire to join any society other than the one on the planet Columus."
"Our Emperor is an extremely powerful Force adept. He has seen how the confrontation between the Republic and the Confederacy will end. And he knows perfectly well that, in the end, what the Republic becomes will impose extremely disadvantageous conditions on you, under which you will work for the benefit of this new state."
"In that case, the Republic would have to offer us extremely favorable terms, for which our society would be willing to break its traditions."
"Oh yes, they are excellent terms," Vette agreed. "You simply won't be destroyed if you agree to serve the Republic. And you'll be allowed to continue using the cloning equipment, which, as I've heard, is far superior to Arkanian or Kaminoan equipment."
"In that case, the Republic's terms are little different from yours," the Columi noted. "You also threaten destruction."
"We are merely demonstrating our willingness to see things through. It is our opinion that your technology, your ability to create complex and effective devices, not to mention the incredible intellectual abilities of your citizens, could benefit Imperial society."
"But first and foremost, you need our cloning technology, don't you?"
"I confess, that is one of the areas where the Empire cannot boast great success," Vette stated with a sigh. "We managed to create a hybrid technology — based on Kaminoan cloning technology, with the addition of Spaarti technology. After long attempts, the Empire's scientists managed to create specimens that can grow a fully developed clone in six months. The first batches were created faster, but… these clones, despite all our efforts, aged so quickly that it was simply impossible to use them anywhere."
"As far as we know, the Arkanians manage to create clones for the Republic in three months," the Columi displayed his knowledge. "Fully trained, ready for the activity for which they were created. All using the same Spaarti technology, which became available on the galactic market after the destruction of the factory on Cartao."
"Yes, that's how we got it," the girl didn't go into details. "But, unfortunately, the Arkanians' modifications were far more successful."
"You, too, are creating a clone army?" the Columi inquired.
"The Emperor is aware that the interests of his state, the Republic, and the Confederacy are contradictory. A conflict between them is inevitable. Count Dooku has countless hordes of droids; the Republic has Arkanian clones, whose losses worry no one. The Empire is forced to turn to a mixed principle for manning its armed forces — using droids where its citizens might suffer unjustifiably high losses."
"I thought your army served clones, not Imperial citizens."
"Our army and navy consist of clones," Vette confirmed. "Who are Imperial citizens. With all the rights and responsibilities that come with that status. I may be mistaken, but isn't that the same situation on Columus, where every representative of your race is a clone? And also a citizen, for that matter?"
"Interesting," the Columi looked at HK. The latter, flashing his optical sensors, intoned:
"Proud remark. Our bags of meat are dear to the Master."
"I don't doubt it," the droid housing the Columi picked up the datapad from the tabletop, bringing it to the unblinking black eyes of its organic part. "So what is the Empire prepared to offer our people in exchange for becoming your subjects? We already understand what you want from us — engineers, administrators, cloners… Oh, your list even includes our hyper-space beacon technology, which we once placed throughout the galaxy."
"And the population of the Unknown Regions still uses some of them," Vette reminded him. "Or creates their own, far more primitive, versions based on them."
"No one possesses the intelligence to reliably replicate our technology," the Columi noted. "So, what will be the answer to my question?"
"The Empire is prepared to offer you all the benefits at its disposal," Vette replied simply. "Our medicine, knowledge, technology…"
"We have all of that already — in a far more advanced implementation than other races," the Columi objected.
"And yet, your people are limited to a single planet," Vette reminded him. "Rare individuals have left Columus. And I will never believe there aren't those on the planet who are ready to follow the stars. Although, as I recall, your hyperspace travel technology is somewhat… behind the galactic standard. And despite its high quality, your products aren't in particular demand in the galaxy because of their specificity — the Empire is ready to help solve that problem, and you'll no longer have to compete with galactic society, proving that your planet's low gravity is ideal for medical interventions."
"Now that you have informed us of the Celestials' demise, we will declassify the archives dedicated to this, and our ships will once again ply the dark space of this galaxy," the Columi declared, ignoring the jab at Columus's struggling economy and their desperate attempts to attract additional capital to their homeworld.
"And how soon will the Republic turn its attention to you?" inquired Vette. "Believe me, no superpower in this galaxy will miss the chance to have such allies... or slaves. As I already said—the Emperor knows for certain that after the war with the Confederacy, in which the latter will lose and be destroyed, the Republic will turn its attention to you and force your sages to take part in its affairs. Against your will, naturally."
"Is your Emperor so gifted in the Force?" asked the Columi representative.
"One of the most powerful in the galaxy," Vette admitted.
"Our people respect Force adepts and have long observed their regular attempts to redraw the galaxy's map. We have learned the main thing from these wars: the strong do not need allies," noted the little alien. "The strong demand obedience. We remember this after our encounter with the Celestials. And since your ruler exterminated the last of them—it means he is far stronger and crueler. There is no guarantee that one day we will not find all our technology turned against us."
"The Emperor does not betray allies," Vette declared. "Especially those who cannot defend themselves."
"The inhabitants of Columus are capable of confronting any threat. And after we have spaceships..."
"We possess the blueprints of Columi starships—you prefer defensive technologies, no weapons. The very fact that you are negotiating with me while a squadron of Star Destroyers is in orbit of Columus only confirms that there are no offensive technologies on the planet capable of repelling a threat. And as I have already proven to you—your planetary shields alone are worthless against the aggressive policies of a state that possesses thousands of warships. But at the same time, the Empire is ready to defend the interests of every one of its citizens. Diplomatically, or with the help of the fleet and army."
"Is that a hint that the Empire is prepared to provide the Columi with protection from external threats?" The huge, pupil-less eyes stared intently at the Twi'lek.
"We will do our utmost for that," the girl agreed. "Our ships are superior to what the Republic or Confederacy have at their disposal. I won't hide it, we are inferior in numbers, but after a year or two we will be able to..."
"That is unacceptable," the Columi interrupted her.
"Suspicion. This meatbag wants to refuse us? Suggestion. I can tear off his arms and legs and repeat the question."
"HK — shut up," Vette asked. The girl understood perfectly well that she couldn't rein in the Emperor's personal assassin droid. But his constant interjections were simply annoying. Apparently the fact that Kenny had to be left on the ship—the Columi had immediately identified it as an Iokath assault drone—was significantly irritating the ancient eliminator of undesirables.
"What are you dissatisfied with, Representative?" Vette inquired as calmly as possible.
"Not a single citizen of Columus will be satisfied by the fact that those who lack sufficient strength are offering them protection," he stated. "Since you say your interests intersect with those of the Republic and the Confederacy, then there is a possibility that due to the location of our system in the Core Worlds of the galaxy, the ships of your enemies will arrive here faster than you can gather the necessary number of starships for our defense."
"The assumption is absolutely correct," Vette agreed, adding to herself, "Absolutely correct. We don't have enough ships even for a full-scale battle with a single armada of the Republic or the CIS." "But we plan to correct this miscalculation in the near future..."
"We are ready to help you with that," the representative replied, and Vette's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "What is needed to speed up the construction of your ships?"
"You agreed surprisingly quickly," Vette noted.
"Triumph. I told you—just promise to take this meatbag apart for spare parts..."
"The Columi are the greatest thinkers in the galaxy," the representative of this race stated calmly. Not boasting—a statement of fact. "While our dialogue is ongoing, my fellow citizens are discussing the pros and cons of joining the Empire. And they have found that the Empire is the best option of the four available."
"Four?" Vette was surprised.
"Exactly. The Republic does not interest us because of its tendency to bury its head in the sand as soon as a threat passes. The Confederacy is a perverted version of the Republic. Neither of them will be able to resist the Yuuzhan Vong invasion due to the insufficient effectiveness of their armed forces. The Empire is the most optimal option."
"And what is the fourth, then?"
"Ignore any proposals of joining. And I admit, you were eloquent enough to determine our position."
"Is that so," Vette uttered. "It seems to me you knew the balance of power in the galaxy long before our meeting."
"That is so," the Columi agreed. "Being on Columus, we are sufficiently informed about what is happening in the galaxy. And we are not accustomed to wasting our time. What is needed to neutralize the numerical superiority of the Republic and the Confederacy over your fleet and army?"
"Our shipyards are in the modernization stage," Vette bit her lip. "Which is scheduled for completion by the end of this year. The army... you already know the situation with clone growth time."
"Our specialists will require transports to reach your facilities," said the Columi. "Also, in exchange for our assistance in the Empire's affairs, we demand that the Empire not interfere in the internal affairs of Columus. No military sentient is to set foot on the surface of our planet without our permission. You may build an orbital base and a fleet station in the system. We will provide any help in exchange for your observance of this neutrality."
"I am authorized by the Emperor to conclude an agreement on such terms," Vette smiled.
"Remark. These meatbags refuse to fight? Surprise. But killing other meatbags is so much fun!"
"And one more condition," the representative stated. "The Empire may leave an observer on the planet—to monitor compliance with our agreements."
"Of course, as you wish," Vette agreed. She hadn't even counted on that. "I will speak with the Emperor about this, and he will send a suitable candidate here."
"That will not be necessary," declared the droid in which the Columi was housed, pointing at HK. "Our people are unanimous in opinion—the Empire's representative on Columus must be HK-47."
"An assassin droid?" Vette was dumbfounded.
"Suspicion. They want to take me apart for spare parts and create vile copies. Warning. You won't succeed, meatbags—I protect my parts even when inactive!"
"HK — shut up!" the Twi'lek asked. Turning to the Columi representative, she inquired:
"Why HK-47 specifically?"
"He is the funniest of all the assassin droids we have seen," replied the representative of the ancient race, looking at Vette with an unblinking gaze.
"Crazy," the Twi'lek thought, but added aloud:
"I will inform the Emperor of your wish. I'm afraid this may take time—the destruction of the hyperspace relay stations will somewhat complicate communication..."
"We will provide our own communication system," the Columi responded readily. "It is more advanced than anything you could ever create."
"Statement of fact. I am an excellent diplomat!"
* * *