A new turn in the seemingly fruitless negotiations occurred on the third day after the head of the Diplomatic Service of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul appeared in the space once known as the Gree Empire. Now, this corner of the galaxy, where the representatives of this race were driven by their ill-wishers—the Rakata—like dirty rags, was called the Gree Enclave. A remnant of former power. Six star systems containing only five worlds suitable for habitation by the ancient Gree race.
During the time of the Sith Empire, this race was already on the brink of degradation—gray-skinned cephalopods with six tentacles, huge black eyes, and a hanging sac of a massive brain, having lost a significant part of their ancestors' achievements. Thousands of unique technologies, among which a special place was held by the Hypergates—devices for instant travel between planets without using starships, or the perfect Gree navigation computers—so complex that the Empire's best scientists could only partially understand the principles of their operation. But this technology allowed starships to travel across the galaxy on such optimal routes that even on minor hyperspace lanes or without them, jumps became as fast as if the journey was along, say, one of the galaxy's main hyperspace routes, like the Hydian Way.
In general, the technology of hyperspace travel in the Celestial River, though known for millennia, was still not fully understood by most beings. Hyperspace routes, spread like a web across the galaxy, allowed travel between sectors in mere hours. Along the same Corellian Trade Route, one could cross the galaxy in just a few days. And exactly the same amount, if not more, was spent reaching a planet located, say, a dozen or two parsecs from a hyperspace lane.
The Gree navigation computers eliminated this difference, essentially turning any point in the galaxy into a well-traveled road, movement along which was not marred by the need to regularly drop out of hyperspace to calculate new coordinates beyond the known route.
There were also dozens of other wonderful inventions of this race that could give Zakuul an undeniable advantage over its enemies.
And that is why Darth Ravage was now here.
The Imperial mission, like other outsiders, had no access to other worlds of the Enclave—as it turned out, over the past three and a half thousand years, the Gree had not only ceased their own excursions beyond the Enclave but also prohibited any outsiders from visiting anywhere except the quite comfortable apartments on the port planet called Asation. This world of swamps and bogs, like other Gree worlds, had a type two atmosphere—and while the Gree could live here completely without harm to their health, other beings had to wear breathing masks. Or stay confined to their residences, where the climate control system created the necessary conditions for survival.
The head of the Empire's Sphere of Galactic Influence had once already negotiated with the Gree—during the years of the Cold War between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic, the cephalopods had twice turned to representatives of the galaxy's superpowers for help. The first time was when their ancient, seemingly non-functional Hypergates activated into an unknown corner of the galaxy and something terrible emerged from them... The most nightmarish creature that a fevered mind could imagine. The threat from it was so obvious that representatives of both states took all measures to ensure the monster never reminded them of itself again.
The second case was related to the return from oblivion of a Gree research vessel called the Gray Secant. Millennia before the Galactic War, the Gree ancestors had sent this research ship to study the worlds of the Celestial River and investigate the potential of sentient beings. In a rather original way, it must be admitted—through combat. The Gree intended to uncover its secrets, since by that time they themselves no longer had any idea of what this ship was capable of. And once again, they invited the Sith and the Jedi. However, despite the victory over the hordes of droids of the Gray Secant, neither side could achieve its goal. Because as soon as the strike teams dealt with the main droid on the ship, it disappeared again. Only by a miracle did the raiders manage to escape, avoiding the fate of becoming unwilling participants in the Gree ship's saga. Although one cannot deny the fact that they did manage to obtain some information. True, the Gree also repaid the help... In a peculiar way. By sending their trade representatives to both states. No exclusive goods or services for the warring sides. Anyone could buy Gree products, whether in the Empire or the Republic... True, the quality level... Though surpassing Imperial or Republic standards, neither side gained any particular advantage.
However, neither side dared to conduct a military operation to seize the Gree—no matter how much they wanted to. Simply because of fear of the unknown—the Gree equally easily used technologies that somewhere even on Tatooine were considered archaic, and at the same time had in their arsenal highly advanced mechanisms. Which could significantly thin out the fleet and army of any attackers. And this, in turn, would lead to a shift in the overall balance of power in the galaxy.
The current negotiations... also did not start on a good note. No matter how ready the Gree were to communicate with representatives of other races, they did not wish to enter into an alliance, or even to share technologies on terms favorable to themselves (the Emperor was most interested in the navigation computers). Not with anyone.
Ravage knew that at the beginning of the conflict between the Republic and the Confederacy, the leader of the latter had already visited Asation. And he heard exactly the same thing that Ravage had heard three days ago.
"You are guests on our planet and may stay here as long as you like. However, the Gree will never share technologies with you, except for those whose level is already known to you," the Gree representative told him, after listening to a rather substantial offer from the Empire.
Aliens, especially such advanced and ancient ones as the Gree, are very... difficult to motivate.
Xenobiologists had created thousands of theories, put forward millions of hypotheses about what happens to the brain chemistry of ancient races when they reach a certain level of development. Ravage, however, believed that they were simply subject to a certain type of dementia that progressed with each generation.
What race in this galaxy would refuse an alliance where they are promised protection, supply of resources, and indulgence of almost any whim, in exchange for access to their technologies and the participation of their specialists in mastering the equipment? Ravage knew enough about the ways of sentient beings to understand—none.
The Gree distinguished themselves here as well.
Their decision was categorical and non-negotiable. There was no point in pressing—negotiations that ended on a friendly or neutral note can always be resumed from that point. A dialogue concluded with threats and intimidation that did not achieve their goal will always have to start anew. Moreover, the one who previously acted from a position of strength and failed will find themselves in a much more vulnerable position during the preliminaries—the subsequent preliminary talks.
However, this did not explain the fact that the Gree decided to resume the dialogue.
Did they guess that Ravage was not alone, and that along with him, under one pretext or another, field agents of the ISB had arrived on Asation? Highly doubtful—their legends were solid, and if none of the cephalopods possessed the Force—and for that Ravage could vouch—then identifying operatives whose task was to gather information about the Gree and their technologies would be problematic for the cephalopods.
Did they decide to change their minds? That's possible, but previously this people had not been distinguished by a great desire for contact with the outside world or revising their own positions. Could the information about the imminent Yuuzhan Vong invasion, which Darth Ravage had relayed to them, indicating a probable vector of the aliens' entry into the galaxy, have affected them? Probably...
But one could speculate forever. The answer would always be the same—and it could only be learned through a personal meeting with a representative of their people. Which was exactly where Ravage was heading.
He approached the Gree residence just as the sun appeared over the east of this world. The entrance, like the territory as a whole, was still guarded by droids, whose archaic design evoked memories of bygone days. However, the diplomat could bet that these pieces of metal only gave the impression of antiques. In reality, their combat effectiveness was many times higher than anything the galactic community could present for comparison.
The member of the Dark Council entered through the main entrance into a large reception hall—a place where representatives of the Gree people, using translator droids, communicated with those who flew to their planet. The sound of his armor-shod boots echoed loudly under the hall's arches.
As already noted, in diplomacy it is important to understand the psychology of one's "partner." Aggressive races would take it as weakness if you appeared at a meeting without any protection. Peaceful ones, on the contrary, would refuse negotiations all the faster the more military force you had behind you.
The Gree, however... They had gone through all the stages. Once a powerful and warlike race that had visited many planets of the galaxy and settled on many, they were now locked inside a small pocket of space, surrounded on all sides by planets endlessly coveting their technology, and were picking up the crumbs of their past. To which the Empire also wanted to get its hands.
The Emperor had not explained the detailed reasons why an alliance with the Gree was needed. But an experienced diplomat always knows how to read between the lines. Even if they come from Lord Kursk. And the journey through the Unknown Regions itself had put everything in its place.
In this unsettled corner of the Empire, one had to make do with meager hyperspace trails, whose coordinates had been obtained partly from the Chiss, partly from the Vagaari, the Ssi-ruuk, the Tofs, the Nagai... And these were not the easiest flights, taking an enormous amount of time. Thus, from the Chiss base to Asation, Darth Ravage had traveled for over a week. And that was despite having covered part of the route already along the galaxy-known lanes of the Outer Rim in the north of the galaxy. Yes, quite a trip. Especially considering the fact that the Empire provided its state officials with Fury-class interceptors. Modernized, of course, according to modern scientific and technical standards. He was particularly impressed by the optical camouflage based on Adegan crystals, which cloaked ships not only visually but also prevented even the most sensitive scanners from detecting an Imperial vessel. In fact, thanks to the latter, they had managed to cross the constantly shifting fronts between the Republic and the Confederacy.
And yet, he would have preferred to use something more... substantial in his travels. Last time, the Republic had needed a squadron to stop his flagship and escort ships. Furies were good for those who had to be constantly on the move, carrying out the Emperor's will—for acolytes and warriors. But not for the head of one of the Spheres. However, even this step was understandable. The Furies used isotope-5—an extremely rare type of fuel that made even the fastest ships even faster. From history, he knew that this type of ship fuel was mined only on the planet Makeb. And even then—during the period when, after the Emperor's death, the Hutt Cartel tried to raise its stupid and thick-skinned backside higher than it should. The Sith had organized a secret foothold there and mined the fuel in secret from the Hutts themselves and the Republic that had invaded the planet. However, he thought that the reserves of this fuel had long since faded into oblivion. Along with the planet itself.
But no. It turns out—there are still reserves somewhere. But it seems there aren't many, since his Fury was the only one he had encountered with such a fuel system upgrade. The characteristic green trail of the ion engines was a very telling detail.
"Darth Ravage," the Gree had no mouth in the usual humanoid sense. Their physiology was a mystery to other races. And the fragmentary information that Imperial Intelligence had managed to obtain in almost a year of work since its creation was worthless. The spies, without which no diplomatic foray was complete, had gathered more information about the Gree race and their technologies for the Imperial Archive in these three days than the Republic had obtained over the past millennia.
"Glad to see you again, Representative Ar'dok," the diplomat, maintaining the courtesy befitting his position, gave a barely perceptible nod, meeting the eyes of a short—about a meter tall—creature with many tentacles on its body. The mask that a human had to wear somewhat muffled sounds and distorted speech, so he did not wear it. An inconvenience that no one who breathed oxygen could avoid. The head of the Sphere of Galactic Influence was just such a person—even the most powerful Sith needed oxygen. But when you had achieved mastery in the Force, surrounding yourself with an atmospheric sphere was not a big problem. And in turn, it impressed the dialogue partner. "To what do I owe this meeting?"
Ravage held himself firmly and calmly. Despite having spent the entire night, already short on this planet where a day was only eighteen standard hours, systematizing the intelligence data gathered by the spies, so that the subsequent preparation of the report on the negotiations with the Gree, which would land on the Emperor's desk, would not take much time. The Empire's chief diplomat loved order in everything. And preferred not to waste time.
A few hours before the meeting, he had taken advantage of a break to connect with the Force, allowing its currents to cleanse and refresh his body and mind. To his displeasure, it used to be much easier than now. Well, the years were taking their toll. For some, imprisonment in stasis pods on Belsavis, like his new subordinate—Darth Imperius—had passed without a trace. For him, however... He seemed to feel all these millennia on his skin. But the Force helped smooth out the effects of stasis. Oddly enough, it was worth acknowledging the advantage of Jedi healing techniques over Sith ones in this matter. In a society where you could not, by right of the strong, drain someone else's life energy to restore your health, the meditative trances of the Jedi, which three and a half thousand years ago had seemed heretical, gave a head start to the techniques of the Dark Side of the Force. By a wide margin.
It did not cure completely, but it relieved symptoms for a long time, bringing vigor of spirit and body for long periods. And the longer Ravage used the techniques of the Light Side of the Force, the more advantages he found in the philosophical concept of the new Order of Force-sensitives, developed by the Emperor based on the knowledge of the ancient Je'daii. Not that it greatly surpassed the Sith's own abilities in the art of the Dark Side, but... Any literate being understood that there is no limit to information that might prove useful. And a Force-sensitive of his level should realize that better than others.
And Ravage did not allow himself to neglect new knowledge. Even if it was of a Jedi kind. There is no excess knowledge about the Force. After three thousand years of imprisonment, this simple truism found fertile ground even in the minds of the most stubborn and orthodox users of the Force.
To say that the Emperor had discovered something new... No, that would be a crime against logic. No matter how Vitiate tried to conceal it, the details of the destruction of the Dark Council on Dromund Kaas three hundred years before the start of the Galactic War, information about the assassination attempt by the Jedi Revan on his life, seeped into the minds of those who knew how to listen. Ravage had always kept his ears open.
And after so many years, resorting to the techniques of the Light Side, alongside Sith rituals, he could frankly admit that there was a rational kernel in this philosophy. For now, his knowledge of the Light Side was limited to Jedi meditations and healing techniques, but... Members of the Dark Council of the Eternal Empire had access to a large volume of data from the Archives and could engage in self-study at any available time.
Ravage did not miss opportunities, and therefore before departing to the Chiss from Zakuul, he had taken the trouble to fill his ship's data banks with the most notable Force techniques known to the Jedi. Healing abilities were just the first of many steps toward restoring his power and health.
And according to the medics, the side effects would subside after some time. Too bad they forgot to mention how long. Body aches and drowsiness were getting on his nerves. Unfortunately, Lord Kursk had remained on the grand admiral's Chimera—to oversee the integration of the Dominion into the Empire. And for venting his rage, he had to resort not to furious duels with worthy opponents, but again and again immerse himself in relaxing meditations and repeat the Jedi tenets about controlling emotions. Not without results, naturally.
"We have things to discuss, Darth Ravage, don't you think?" inquired Ar'dok, whose words were translated by the droid. An interesting phrasing. Opening up many possibilities for speculation.
"If I know the subject of our conversation, the dialogue will be extremely fruitful," the Sith remarked coldly. However, he could not hope that the alien would get straight to the point. The Gree, if they wanted something from you, were even bigger windbags than the Kamaasi. Or the Alderaanians.
For them, it was something like a national sport—to intrigue the interlocutor, conduct endless conversations on empty topics, and only at the very end get down to business, revealing only the bare minimum of key information. Or not. It had to do with their way of thinking and psychology—during the initial conversation, the Gree tried to assess the interlocutor's readiness to understand the main information. If the interlocutor seemed sufficiently... mature to them, then the dialogue would move toward its goal. If not, they would bid you a very polite and courteous farewell. As they had done three days ago.
Another fact was curious. The Gree psychology did not allow resuming dialogue with those who had previously been turned away. That was bad form for them. And therefore, the subject of the conversation was even more interesting.
"We are familiar with your customs, Darth Ravage," the droid droned. "The Gree have a long memory—your face is well known to us. Even though many years have passed. Curious that both now and over three thousand years ago, you serve monarchical states."
"They say 'life is what happens to you while you're making big plans,'" Ravage said with a smirk. "I do what I can to protect what's dear to me. I don't know if that sets me apart from anyone else, but my business is diplomacy. And I do my job well. For the prosperity of the Empire."
"You must have accumulated wisdom worthy of the best peoples in the galaxy over three and a half thousand years," the Gree praised. "But I confess, seeing you after all this time is surprising. Humanoids do not have such lifespans."
"There's always a way," the Sith answered vaguely. "I hope you understand that preserving it is my duty. Just as it is for every citizen of the Empire — to care for their state and its secrets. Especially in such troubled times."
"An alliance that would benefit all sides is the key to fruitful relations," the Gree remarked.
"That is the essence of our appearance on Asation," Ravage reminded him. "Mutually beneficial cooperation."
"Yes, the Eternal Empire of Zakuul… This is something new for us. Our chronicles hold records of how the first attempts to create this state were destroyed — whatever it was called. The Eternal Empire, the Eternal Alliance… And now you have restored this state and, as we understand, intend to announce yourselves on the galactic stage?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny that," Ravage said. Revealing one's cards before those who aren't even formal allies, especially on such a global scale… No, no member of the Dark Council would do that. Even if they knew the Emperor's plans in this regard. "For us, Zakuul is a symbol of rebirth, of the opportunities we can achieve together. Under a strong government that knows what it wants. And possesses information about the threats that menace the galaxy."
"Yes, the Yuuzhan Vong you mentioned," the Gree's black eyes betrayed nothing. "We calculated the probabilities. Their arrival… Is possible."
"It is inevitable," Darth Ravage corrected. "Just like the changing of seasons on a planet."
"There are no seasons on Gree," Ar'dok stated. "The climate on our homeworld is constant. As it is on all planets inhabited by our race."
"The galaxy is vast," Ravage shrugged. "And not every planet was terraformed during the height of your race."
"And that allowed many races to form," the Gree picked up. "Humans, Zabrak, Nautolans, Twi'leks, Gands… How many races are part of the Empire?"
"Enough to be considered a multicultural society," Ravage replied, again evasively. "Cooperation and tolerance — that is our strength. The Empire has accepted many races or communities into its fold. We draw no line between them — each is a citizen of the Empire. Without any gradation."
"Our chronicles say that the Sith Empire and the Eternal Empire once preached nationalism," the Gree observed. "The superiority of some peoples over others. Sometimes quite radical."
"Those who cannot learn the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them over and over," the diplomat remarked philosophically. "The Emperor drew those conclusions. Even despite the fact that we have opponents and obvious enemies — racism, including radical racism, is not our method. You can understand that by looking at me, if nothing else."
"How does this work?" the Gree said.
"The Eternal Empire of Zakuul is a conglomerate of various peoples, races, and communities united under a single monarch. Our armed forces are the guarantee of self-defense and the defense of our interests. Economic cooperation…"
"Does this mean that the races within the Empire lose their identity and their right to autonomy and self-determination?"
"No. Zakuul does not seek to turn the planets within it into exact copies of each other. All peoples are subject to common laws, and responsibility is equal — all are equal before Imperial law. But at the same time, the Imperial government does not interfere in the internal affairs of individual planets, races, or sectors, preferring to resolve internal conflicts through diplomacy."
"Then what do you need a fleet and an army for?"
"The experience of the Republic and the Confederacy's conflict demonstrates to us how vulnerable a state can be when it lacks a regular military," Ravage said in a neutral tone. "The war between those two states has already been going on for sixteen months, and there's no end in sight to this slaughter. As you might have noticed from our proposal, the Empire possesses thousands of worlds rich in minerals and resources. Whoever wins the war between the Confederacy of Independent Systems and the Galactic Republic, once the fighting is over, they will need resources to rebuild their destroyed economic and other facilities."
"You believe the Empire will become their target?"
"We are certain of it," Ravage said coldly. "History has already taught us this lesson. After defeating the Eternal Alliance and the Sith Empire, the Galactic Republic bled dry the worlds belonging to its opponents, making every effort to ensure that no one and nothing would ever challenge it again."
"However, Count Dooku dared to take that step," the Gree noted.
"He is not alone in his ambitions. He has powerful corporations on his side. And it's unclear which side looks preferable in the context of victory — the corrupt democrats or the greedy industrialists."
"Doesn't the Empire have large-scale industries? We doubt you could have restored your society using a manufactory approach."
"The Empire strictly controls all economic processes within its territory," the Sith explained. "Public-private partnership is the key to the Empire's stable economic development. Whatever happens in business — the Emperor knows about it."
"And this approach allows him to navigate between industrialists without allowing crises," Ar'dok understood. "An interesting approach, which doesn't align well with a monarchical form of government."
"And at the same time, it keeps the industrialists in check, allowing him to dictate prices and terms for the sale of goods to the average consumer," he seemed to be beginning to understand the point of this meeting. The Gree had never before been interested in the developmental specifics of their partners. And out of habit, they had dismissed the Empire's offer. But now… They were interested. What had changed in these three days? Something important, if they had changed their minds so quickly. "The Emperor's goal is the well-being of the citizens, not a privileged class. Given the needs of the Empire's citizens for all kinds of technology and products — no one is left out in the cold."
"A debatable decision — beneficial for the masses, but unprofitable for the industrialists, whose goal is to maximize their capital."
Ravage remained silent. The Sith Empire, like the Eternal Empire, kept its industrialists on a short leash — using similar methods. And there were no dissatisfied parties — given the militarized nature of Imperial society, demand for any goods was always there, leaving neither side at a loss. But was there any point in explaining this to an alien? Hardly.
"What would happen to a part of the Empire that wanted to secede from your state and acquire sovereignty?"
"You should understand that all planets within the Empire — except for those inhabited by specific peoples who have joined us — belong to the Emperor. He will never give away his property to anyone. As for the races that have joined, living on their ancestral worlds, they are free to leave whenever they wish. Naturally, after transferring to the Empire everything it has created for their worlds. But such a question has never been raised — the peoples within the Empire are satisfied with their position."
"As long as they want to cooperate and be tolerant, isn't that right?" Ar'dok finished his thought.
"That goes without saying. No state will tolerate saboteurs or conspirators within its ranks," Ravage nodded.
"And what will you do with those who go against the Empire?" the conversation was increasingly steering toward the main narrative. And it was beginning to resemble navigating a minefield, where one careless word could spell complete ruin.
"That question is beyond my competence," the diplomat said confidently. In his mind, reports flashed by — the scorching of the Tofs' planet, the extermination of the Ssi-Ruuk, the Vagaari… What can you do — keeping such aggressive peoples in your rear who refused to join the Empire or showed clearly belligerent intentions… No people — no problem. A radical way to solve the issue. Which, oddly enough, the Sith — and the entire galaxy — had learned from the Jedi. Who had exterminated all the true Sith about five thousand years ago as a result of the Great Hyperspace War. The other question was that their efforts to rid themselves of the Dark Side's threat once and for all had led to nothing but new, even bloodier wars. And the echoes of that reckless decision had haunted the galaxy ever since. "But I dare to assure you that the Emperor does not feel any kind of permanent hatred. And as long as there is a possibility to resolve problems peacefully — diplomacy will always be our weapon."
"Even in moments when your allies might be in mortal danger?"
"You must understand that there is no universal way to solve hypothetical problems," he seemed to have already forgotten how tedious negotiations with this race could be. "Every situation requires careful assessment and a measured decision. You can't just go and slaughter all your enemies," oh yes you can and should — "or negotiate when your capital is being destroyed by orbital strikes. Or when genocide is being committed against your allies."
"Is this the Emperor's position?"
"Yes. He values his allies and is willing to make concessions — for the sake of the ideals and principles of the Empire."
"But surely among them there are those who wish Zakuul would fight more for their interests than for the ideals of the Immortal Emperor," Ar'dok suggested. "The weak always seek patrons. How can you think there are none, or will be none, in the Empire who simply hide behind your back?"
Ravage summoned all his self-control to keep from bursting out laughing. No weak ones… What are you talking about, alien? The Empire even has Ewoks, who haven't even left their atmosphere. But even with them, the Empire found common ground for the right to extract minerals and create military infrastructure in the Endor system and its vicinity, turning an entire sector into a military base through the efforts of Asajj Ventress.
And they could have simply landed a few legions and pacified the moon, then put several million small, soft pelts up for sale.
"If the weak cannot count on the protection of their strong allies, then what is the point of the Eternal Empire? We are strong enough to protect the interests of all who have trusted us and joined our state. A simple example — not long ago, a treaty was concluded with the inhabitants of an entire planet that had been subjected to orbital bombardment with nuclear warheads. The Empire came to the aid of those threatened with extinction from radiation sickness and nuclear winter in the future. We have already selected a planet for them within the Empire and are beginning the evacuation of the population to give them a chance at a new life."
"Why?"
"Because it's the right thing to do," and because they can provide us with thousands of excellent spies and saboteurs, not to mention two regiments of elite infantry. A small thing, but a pleasant one. "Just as with the rescue of another people, whose planet was destroyed by the Confederacy, whose line ship carrying chemical weapons crashed and destroyed the ecosystem of the planet Honoghr. The Empire — not the Republic and certainly not the Confederacy, which are guilty of this incident — sent humanitarian aid to the Noghri. And if that people accepts our offer to relocate to one of the Empire's worlds, we will gladly come to their aid. Just as we came to the aid of the inhabitants of the Humbarine sector, which was effectively destroyed by the same Confederacy with orbital bombardments. Or the planet Orleon, which was infected by Republic Intelligence with stone mites that ate through the planet's crust, effectively destroying an entire world…"
"Quite… An unusual act for the Republic," the Gree remarked.
"And an ill-considered one, since Republic Intelligence, lacking sufficient evidence that Orleon was developing weapons of mass destruction for the Confederacy — the same stone mites — effectively destroyed an entire world, condemning eight hundred million Orleonians to death, since the planet was actually on the front line."
"And how did the Empire solve this problem?"
"Our scientists are the best in the galaxy," Ravage stated a fact. "It was not difficult for them to develop a biological agent that destroyed the stone mites, stopping the planet's destruction. And we gained time to evacuate the population to a safe place. Worthy and courageous beings who found themselves in the millstones of war, suffering only because some officials did not want to fully investigate the situation."
"Well said," the Gree approved. "What you have said… Is quite interesting. And it makes our people think that there is a rational kernel in your words about the Yuuzhan Vong threat."
"Thank you for your trust," Ravage replied. "Your approval means a great deal to us. The Empire respects the Gree people, as it does other ancient and great races. I don't think it would be a great breach of our secrets if I reveal that at present, the best of the Empire's top specialists are working to bring the Sharu people back into the galaxy."
"That is… An unexpected and very difficult task," Ar'dok noted. "What attracted you to these beings?"
"The fact that they, like many others, suffered from the actions of the Celestials."
"The Celestials are a great threat to the galaxy," the Gree agreed. "But at the same time, a great and powerful people. With their own goals and ambitions… We, like many other peoples, learned from them, but never condoned their ideas of developing galactic society through controlled conflicts. It is terrible."
"The Emperor thinks the same," Ravage confirmed, reminding himself that the Gree, like the Kwa, the Rakata, and all other races, were merely slaves of the Celestials. Whatever these cephalopods might have imagined. "I am permitted to inform you, since we have touched on this topic, that the ruler of the Empire has already had a most unpleasant conversation with the last of the Celestials."
The Gree was silent for a few seconds. Then, cautiously, he inquired:
"And what was the result of that meeting?"
"My lord and the Celestials failed to agree that trillions of beings should be doomed to death for the sake of directed evolution. It was not easy, but… The threat of the Celestials continuing their experiments on the galaxy has been neutralized."
"Is that so…" the Gree's face was physiologically incapable of expressing emotion. And yet, through the Force, Ravage felt that the being was literally… Glad? An interesting reaction. "Our people do not approve of the destruction of the last representatives of any race."
"Neither does the Emperor. He had to do it to remove the yoke from the galaxy and save a vast number of beings from being victims of the wars fomented by the Celestials. One bad deed for the sake of many lives."
"We are familiar with the concept of the lesser and greater evil," the Gree explained. "And yet, this fact is lamentable… Especially considering the very fact that The Family contained a being far more powerful than any Force-wielder. The physical incarnation of Chaos…"
"We know about Abeloth," the diplomat confirmed. "And we know that the Gree once visited her planet. The Emperor believes that it is unacceptable to leave a task half-finished — and if Abeloth tries to break free again and sow chaos, she will need to be stopped."
"Chaos is her essence. Now that The Family is gone, she will inevitably break free. If she hasn't already."
"In that case, the Empire will be ready to strike, if necessary."
"Do not doubt it — it will be necessary," Ar'dok assured him. "And you will need a great deal of strength to seal her again. And without the power of The Family, it will be virtually impossible."
"We have an understanding of the containment mechanism of the paired Centerpoint Station and Sinkhole Station," at the mention of the Celestials' ancient constructions, several tentacles on the Gree's body rippled. "And we would not refuse assistance in studying them and controlling the operation of that system."
"That is… A very dangerous and ancient mechanism. We would be happy to help you, but that technology surpasses anything you can imagine. The Gree have a principle — not to give other races access to technologies beyond their comprehension."
"As I recall, when the discussion turned to the exploration of the 'Gray Secant' back in the day, the Gree sacrificed their principles in favor of reclaiming their ancestors' legacy," Ravage squinted. And why not try to play that card?
"That was a different time and different circumstances," the Gree stated. "Now… Everything is different."
"Really? I must confess, I thought the resumption of negotiations was because the 'Gray Secant' had returned and the Gree once again needed the help of those willing to risk their lives to retrieve that ship for you."
"That ship is the greatest achievement of our ancestors," Ar'dok remarked. "And it has not been seen in the galaxy for more than three thousand years. It is unlikely to ever reappear in known space — our chronicles say the ship tried to contact us in the past, but only a thousand years ago were we able to decipher that message."
"Interesting. I wonder what it was saying. Unless it's a secret, of course."
"Not one we would want to hide. That message has long since become a legend for us. As proof that we have lost a part of ourselves and are unlikely to ever regain our greatness."
"And yet?"
"The ship reported that it had fulfilled its mission and was ready to share the data it had collected with the most worthy among us. It was waiting for a greeting from us in return. But the cryptographic language the 'Gray Secant' used has been forgotten for many thousands of years. The ship's computer understood that there were no longer any among the Gree capable of understanding it. And it will never return to our space, continuing its mission into infinity."
Hmm… Curiouser and curiouser. If not the most obvious thing, then what, by all the Hutts, was the point of this meeting?
"And at the same time, the Empire could render an invaluable service to the Gree people," hmm, a rather sharp transition to the 'main course.' It seemed that over the millennia, the Gree had atrophied not only their ability to reproduce their most advanced technologies but also the art of dialogue.
"What kind?" the diplomat responded eagerly.
"The castes of the Gree people have entrusted me with the honor of informing you that we are ready to begin negotiations with the Empire regarding joining Zakuul," the translator droid reported.
"'Yes, enduring a conversation like this that fries your brain was worth such news.'"
"We will only welcome dialogue between our peoples," Ravage assured him. "I will inform the Emperor…"
"As well as our conditions," the Gree said. "There are few of them, but they are important to us."
"Yes, of course, I am ready to hear them…"
"We have heard enough about the valor and determination of the Emperor and the Empire," the Gree stated. "We demand that the Empire ensure the protection of the Enclave's interests and territorial integrity. But at the same time — we will not tolerate any representatives of the Empire on our planets without our permission. The Enclave is ready to share technologies with the Empire that do not exceed your level of development…"
"Gree navigation computers included?" the mask of indifference on Ravage's face was straining to conceal his inner elation.
"Included," Ar'dok assured him. "We are prepared to provide several working samples as a sign of our good will. But on the condition that from now on, Gree technologies will never be disassembled or otherwise studied by any being without the Enclave's permission. Any repair of the technological samples we create will be carried out by the Gree themselves, and only on Enclave planets."
Fair enough. And cunning. The Gree are smart enough to understand that any advanced civilization, having gotten its hands on samples of their technology, would first try to study them in order to freely copy them later. The Gree don't give the impression of idiots, so the devices will most likely be equipped with strong protection — up to and including a self-destruct mode.
"That is… Quite logical and…"
"All of this, and much more, will be possible only if the main condition is met," the Gree warned.
"And what would that be?"
"I hope no misunderstandings arise between us. The Gree Enclave is not interested in joining the Empire. Neither in whole, nor as individual worlds."
"I think your people would be a valuable member of our state," Ravage replied. "I did not want to rule out that possibility without speaking with you."
"Now you can," the droid voiced the alien's opinion.
"What is it, then, that you want?" the head of the Sphere of Galactic Influence frowned. "What condition do you consider a priority in negotiations with us?"
"As I said, we offer an alliance. An agreement between equal parties. But this treaty must remain secret from the entire galaxy. No one must know that our peoples are conducting mutually beneficial business. The Gree have always strived for neutrality in conflicts of galactic scale. That must remain so in the future."
"Respected Ar'dok, are you afraid that those you call 'weak members' will become a burden to you?"
"No, that is not the issue."
"Very well, but I think you should know that it will be difficult for us to reach an 'agreement between equals' that would allow us to provide military assistance in case of a threat to your security. Our laws permit us to use military force only to defend members of the Empire."
"You do not understand. All we want is to be left alone. We do not need such close ties with other worlds. We have endured the 'protection' of the Celestials for too long, and although it was a very long time ago, we are determined to avoid such 'benefits' in the future. Remember this, and we will be able to speak the same language. As for providing military assistance… Well, if you are not prepared to change your laws for the sake of mutually beneficial cooperation, then the dialogue can be considered concluded here."
For the first time in his long life, Ravage realized he understood nothing. The Gree are ready to cooperate and share valuable technologies (though their value has yet to be determined, but the very fact of handing over a batch of navigation computers speaks volumes). But they do not intend to join the Empire. And they ask not to interfere in their affairs.
"Well, I think that can be arranged," the Sith said slowly. In fact, he had achieved his minimum goals. The Empire would get what it wanted. But probably not on the scale that could have been expected with the integration of the Gree into the Empire. "I will discuss this matter with the Emperor, and I think we will be able to reach a certain consensus…"
"We understand that you were hoping for more, but at present you simply have nothing to interest us with. Except for military assistance and protection. And naturally — the Enclave must receive any resources we request. In the quantities we specify to you. However, I must warn you — if the information you provided about an invasion from beyond the galaxy proves false, if any of the stated agreements are violated, if the technologies we have given you are used to enslave the innocent and oppress the weak, to facilitate genocide and destruction… We will take all measures to reclaim our technologies from you."
Yeah, right, try it. We'll turn your tentacles inside out faster, and Imperial stormtroopers will march in lockstep across every planet in your Enclave.
"The Empire is not inclined to manipulate facts."
"We sincerely hope so."
"And yet," it was a desperate attempt, but… It was worth a try. "You said we cannot offer anything valuable. But if, say, that were to change. Would you be prepared to reconsider this agreement?"
"There is very little in this galaxy that we consider valuable and worthy of our attention. In particular — the lost heritage of our people. Yes, if you can find and deliver something truly important to us, the Gree people will be in your debt. And we will gladly become part of the Empire, since that step would signify your genuine care for the position of our people in this galaxy."
"Allow me to clarify," the Sith's mind had already formed a rather dangerous, but reasonably risky plan. "Say, if the Empire were fortunate enough to locate the… 'Gray Secant'… Or a working sample of Gree Hypergates… Would that constitute the very step toward full cooperation?"
"The 'Gray Secant' is lost forever," Ar'dok repeated. "And Hypergates… Nowhere in the galaxy except on Enclave planets has that technology ever been used. I remind you — your people are forbidden from appearing here without our permission."
What a stupid bag of brains. There are an enormous number of ways to achieve what you want in this galaxy. In your degradation, you have lost so much that… All the better for the Empire.
"And yet?"
The Gree was silent for a few seconds. Then the translator droid said:
"Yes, such technologies are of the greatest interest to us. If you acquire something like that, the Gree Enclave is prepared to reconsider its agreements with the Empire in favor of full accession."
Excellent. No one pulled the cephalopod's tongue (if he even has one).
"I hear you, respected Ar'dok. Since we have reached a consensus, I propose we move on to formalizing the documents…"
* * *
"I believe I have found a solution," Blade said, placing the datapad in front of him. "We can take this city…"
The end of the phrase was drowned in the roar of an MSTA salvo, positioned just a hundred meters from the invasion force command post. The datapad, bouncing off the holoprojector, shattered on the floor with a characteristic crunch.
"Which one is that now?" the Ogre asked. "The third?"
"The seventh," Nomad corrected him, still studying the enemy defense hologram on the terminal. "He puts the datapad on the surface after every second salvo from the self-propelled guns, but before the third. The result is somewhat predictable."
"Brother, you're going to have a serious talk with the logistics people," Zorgi remarked. "They really hate that..."
Blade rolled his eyes. As if he'd be afraid of some supply officers. Here, on the front line, every day could be his last. What did broken datapads matter?
"And still?" Zakari prompted. "What did you come up with?"
"I know how to take this city," the commander of the 224th Assault Corps repeated.
"It would be nice to hear something sensible," Captain Mikkel Desiderari lamented. "Because another hour of bombardment like this, and I'll have to pull the self-propelled guns back to the rear — we'll simply blow the barrels if we keep up this pace. Three days of artillery preparation..."
"And their shields don't even care," Nomad finished. "Well, at least the forward fortifications have been ground to dust. I'm starting to get tense in all my intimate places, seeing ten kilometers of front littered with Separatist wreckage."
"No one counted on them having two shield generators," the Ogre reminded them. "When we overload the first, they turn on the second, and the first goes to recharge. We take down the second — they turn on the first and..."
"We're still here too," Zorgi reminded them. "Blade, what have you got?"
"There's a time window between the shield switches," he said.
"Yes," Zakari spoke up. "Five seconds."
"Four and a half," Captain Mikkel corrected. "The battery manages to get four shells into that window. The fifth one just spreads across the dome."
"Either way, we need to get under the dome during that recharge," Blade declared.
"Old news," Nomad snorted. "Have you forgotten that the dome comes down covering a minefield three to four kilometers deep surrounding the city? Even if we move a squad in there, we'll lose them all to the mines."
"Then," the marshals rose to their feet almost as one, greeting a Sephi Jedi who had just entered the room — "we need to get under the shield not by ground."
"General Fay, ma'am," the clones watched in surprise as the woman approached the holoterminal. "You're supposed to be on board the flagship..."
"I was there," the Sephi sighed. "Nothing interesting. I'd rather be here, with you all..."
"Did you escape from the hospital, or something?" the Ogre grinned.
"Just don't tell the admiral," the Jedi returned the smile. "He doesn't like being led by the nose. Officially — I'm in my quarters. Unofficially — I came down with the ammunition transport."
"Maybe we should have crashed that transport into the Separatist field instead?" Zorgi winced. "After evacuating, of course..."
"Why wreck a whole Sentinel when Marshal Blade suggested an excellent way to take this fortress-city of the Kerkoidians with minimal casualties?" the Sephi clarified.
"You're speaking in riddles, ma'am," Zakari scratched the back of his head. "Nomad already said — we can't break through on the ground — not enough time, plus the mines..."
"And who said anything about a ground assault?" the woman asked in surprise. The marshals exchanged glances.
"No one can handle that," the Ogre stated confidently. "Suicide..."
"Well, why not," the Sephi smirked. "I know one Zabrak whose eyes have recently been opened..."
* * *
"Boss, I understand everything," Xizor said with palpable disgust in his voice. "But this — this is beyond good and evil! For something like this, we'll all be disintegrated!"
Maul tore his gaze from the text on his datapad screen and looked irritably at the agitated Falleen. In the sweltering atmosphere of Mustafar, where the Zabrak had decided to settle after Emberlene's destruction, watching an agitated native of the planet Falleen was, at the very least, hilarious. Especially considering the aristocratic coldness and arrogance he displayed to almost everyone he dealt with face to face.
"Is something displeasing you, Xizor?"
"Yes, by the Hutts!" the Falleen was practically boiling with rage. The Zabrak watched indifferently as he sat down in the chair opposite without permission. His whole demeanor indicated that the prince of the underworld was extremely confident in his rightness and was trying to assert dominance.
An amusing little insect.
"You'll have only one chance to explain yourself," the Zabrak warned him. "And you'd better make sure your accusation against me is substantive."
"Substantive!?" the Falleen erupted. "Maul, do you have any idea what you're doing? Or have your ideas about the Force driven you completely insane?"
The Zabrak, squinting, looked at his underling with undisguised interest. Yes, Xizor was a very peculiar personality. Strong-willed, impulsive, even charismatic to a degree... But open defiance of the Shadow Collective's leadership? That required substantial arguments. And durasteel balls.
"So, you know," he grinned. The Falleen nodded affirmatively. "In that case, what gave you the right to barge into my quarters and act like a Gamorrean sow in a leap year?"
"You've lost your mind!" Xizor shouted. "Sending most of our combat ships on this mission is pure idiocy! When the Republic finds out..."
"They'll think it was the work of the Confederacy of Independent Systems," the Zabrak cut the Falleen off coldly. "After all, who else would need to destroy the HoloNet hyperspace transceivers, especially in such a difficult time for the galaxy?"
"The penalty for that is death!" Xizor blurted out.
"I'm aware of that," Maul shrugged. "As I am of most of what my organization has pulled off recently. The capture of Mandalore, the bombardment and looting of Emberlene, dropping a ship with chemical reagents on Honoghr..."
"Maul — you're insane!" Xizor insisted, getting more and more irritated. "Yes, we made a good haul on Mandalore and Emberlene, but this... Looting a Jedi planet! We're just going to make our relationship with the Jedi harder! Five hundred ships, packed to the brim with their crystal junk! And where have they all gone?! Right now, practically all our cargo ships are on that backwater planet instead of transporting spice or contraband! Are you planning to haul all the ice out of there? It won't bring any profit! And by the way, what did Honoghr ever do to you? A backwater, whose inhabitants are more primitive than anything I know..."
"You don't see the whole picture, Xizor," Maul sighed. "And therefore, I'm forced to listen to all your hysterics."
"Then be so kind as to explain! Otherwise, me and my men wash our hands of... Kha-kh-kha!!" Before he could finish, the Falleen grabbed his throat, through which oxygen had stopped flowing. His feet lifting off the floor, he flailed his limbs helplessly, hoping to find purchase under his feet.
Oh, unfortunately for him, Maul's mood was absolutely foul. And the reason for that was Xizor himself.
"You see, my green-scented, dim-witted friend," Maul said quietly, watching as his apprentice, stepping out of the dark corner into the light, held the Falleen in a Force Choke. "The Shadow Collective has had an excessive number of rebellious officers for far too long. I put up with you exactly as long as you were useful. Now..."
A rasp came from the Falleen, signaling that all the air had left his body.
"I dislike ambiguity," the Zabrak rose from his seat, turning his back to the Falleen. Clasping his hands behind him, Maul, absorbing his suffering and terror, began to study a stained-glass window depicting the Black Sun symbol. "So, before you die, I'll tell you something. I hope you'll be a grateful listener. Now, where to begin... So. Profit is not the main thing in the matter of destroying the Jedi Order. Our expenses will be more than compensated — my patron will keep his word. And since you're so impatient — after your death, my apprentice and I will have to visit your residence and thoroughly search for your secret accounts and treasure caches — I'm sure you have more of them than fleas on a bantha. And when the time comes and I get permission for it, the Shadow Collective will become the only worthwhile criminal syndicate not just within the Republic's worlds, but throughout the entire galaxy. Except for... certain territories where the door will always be closed to us. But that's not the main thing. The key to my work is that when an... event begins in the Unknown Regions, the Shadow Collective will get carte blanche to operate freely in the worlds of the Republic and the Confederacy. And I'm willing to tolerate losses for now — for a higher purpose..."
His monologue was interrupted by the crack of the Falleen's neck breaking. Oh, Hanna, you really are impatient.
The Zabrak turned to his former padawan, smiling at the dead body at her feet.
"Get rid of this," he ordered. "When you're finished, prepare my flagship."
"Yes, Master," she said submissively. "What is our target?"
"Hutt Space. My ally has informed me that we are moving to the pre-final phase of the plan. It's time to pay the Hutt Council a visit and tell them that their wealth and property will be much safer if they belong to one man. A specific man."
* * *
"Vanguard Three, you may begin the maneuver," the dispatcher's instruction came through the cockpit.
"Roger that," Osko responded. "Starting now."
The Zabrak was pulling his fighter away from the flagship destroyer in a smooth arc toward the stratosphere of Kerkoidia. The chronometer was counting down the seconds to the jump, but he simply didn't notice them.
Djlok sank into the Force.
It was getting easier each time. The Battle Meditation that Siri Tachi and Sia-Lan Wezz had taught him required maximum concentration. And total commitment. Because if he failed, nothing would remain of him and his brand-new X-wing but a memory.
The T-65s were completely new machines in the Gent. There were absurdly few of them — the Vanguard had received only three ships. Granted, there weren't many pilots either — only Garen Muln, Jaizen Suel, and him, Osko. Tsui Choi had been killed on Rindellia, and the other Jedi had returned to their infantry duties. The Jedi Ace Corps, as before, consisted of two and a half Jedi. What was strange was something else — why were their ships being serviced not by clone technicians, but by a special brigade that had once worked in the Order? Did they really know the new machines better than the guys who had chewed their teeth on repairing Incom equipment?
And now, all three of them, without attracting attention, half an hour apart, had left the flagship Star Destroyer. Reconnaissance had confirmed that Kerkoidia had powerful scanners that could read information even from geostationary orbit — so the enemy, despite the defeat of their fleet, knew exactly the position of the Spear fleet, and particularly Admiral Makati's flagship — the Valiant-class star carrier named the Resolute. Which currently didn't have a single spot left untouched, and repair crews were working day and night to restore the hull's integrity.
But those were details.
The invasion of Kerkoidia was proceeding apace. A swift attack on the Separatist fleet, the Spear engaged the enemy, and then ships carrying the landing force rushed to the surface. There had been setbacks, of course. Like the virtuoso landing of the Jedi attached to the infantry corps on a single LAAT/i, which ended in death and hospitalization. But the clones... The clones were great. A week of fighting on the planet, and they had already taken four of the five major enemy cities, not without casualties, of course. Tens of thousands of prisoners had been freed, being shipped in small batches to Christophsis...
Just a little remained. To take the capital.
The largest concentration of prisoners of war. The city, covered by energy shields, stubbornly refused to surrender. Until this plan was devised.
"Vanguard Leader, is everyone in contact?" Muln inquired.
"Yes, boss," Osko replied.
"Vanguard Two in contact," Jaizen answered modestly.
"Thirty seconds to readiness," Garen warned. "May the Force be with us."
"Leader," Djlok felt his thoughts becoming ordered, his movements maximally efficient, and his sphere of perception expanding many times over. Yes, thank you, Master Fay; merging with you is like bathing in a pond — it clears the head. "Maybe..."
"Osko," Garen sighed. "If you suggest we use that technique one more time, I'll kick you out of the squadron."
"But it's effective!"
"Even a thousand times," the squadron leader chuckled. "We are fully trained Jedi. What you're suggesting... It's very reminiscent of Battle Meditation, but in some truncated, perverted version... It all reminds me of Sith parodies of our Force techniques. No, I don't know who taught you this, but as soon as we break through the blockade or restore communications, I'll report it to Master Yoda. Let him figure out what the hell is going on here. Everyone's gone crazy — a whole clan of younglings is infected with the Dark Side, and everyone's fine with it. The army has an exiled Togruta padawan... I don't know about you, but I'm not letting this slide."
"Your choice," Djlok replied indifferently. Yes, Siri and Sia-lan had told him that many Jedi would see these new abilities as something... heretical. "I'm not ready to risk my life without a chance of success."
"Then get ready for a transfer to the infantry," Muln replied. "I don't need Code-breakers in my corps..."
"Garen, you're overdoing it..." Suel interceded for the Vanguard Three. "The mission isn't easy, and it would be better..."
"Ten seconds," the leader cut her off. "Prepare for the jump."
Osko just sighed. It was hard with these orthodox preachers of the strict Jedi Code. Wasn't it obvious that the Jedi needed to change? They were losing on all fronts; there was a war in which thousands of Jedi had already died... If nothing changed, they would all die here.
The Zabrak felt someone's presence touch his mind. Startled, he almost lost control of the machine for a moment, but then, gripping the control yoke with both hands, he concentrated. Okay. It was just Jaizen.
He willingly opened up to his partner in the Battle Meditation, sensing her feelings. Yes, she also wasn't ready to take unjustified risks. The war had taught her to be cautious. Serving a good cause was fine. But going on a risky operation without backup... suicide.
Now there were three of them. Master Fay had been quite receptive to expanding their small group. After the initial discomfort, Jaizen had gotten into it.
And the X-wings, whose pilots activated their hyperdrives not by instruments but by the will of the Force, vanished from three points above the capital of Kerkoidia, over which the red energy dome flickered and disappeared a moment earlier.
The Force told him when to cut the hyperdrive motivator. Osko returned the yoke to its place with a precise, smooth movement, simultaneously pulling the nose of the ship up with the stick, narrowly missing a massive Separatist structure. Banking, the X-wing looped around the obstacle, transitioning to a strafing run.
"Vanguard Three inside the dome," he reported, his cannons' fire smashing a turbolaser tower on its peak.
"Vanguard Two is close," the Force told him that Jaizen was now in another part of the city, raining fire on the stunned Separatists. As for Muln...
He sensed it faster than he saw it — the squadron commander's ship, having slipped out of a local micro-jump — a completely insane procedure — slammed into the surface, sending several AAT tanks that had been nearby scattering in pieces.
"Beacon..." Djlok started, but then realized. At that speed, not only ejecting — even reacting at all without the Battle Meditation was impossible.
"He says we're heretics," Suel said sadly.
"At least we're alive," the Zabrak noted.
"That's true... Well, we have to complete the mission before they clip our wings. I'll take the backup generator."
"The main one is in my sights," the targeting reticle changed color from green to red, and the Jedi ace, switching to auxiliary weapons, sent half the missiles from his arsenal into the massive reflector field projector.
A minute later, the main defensive structure of the capital of Kerkoidia fell. And field artillery began churning the minefields and field fortifications into mud.
The capture of Kerkoidia had turned from a royal pain in the ass into a matter of time.
* * *
"And still," Oli wouldn't let up, "why don't we want to take over the whole galaxy? We're strong, our ships are better and..."
Sighing, I shook my head.
No, things hadn't returned to normal after my birthday celebration. My apprentice had become less impulsive, more restrained, but... her natural curiosity seemed indestructible.
"Any ideas, Ahsoka?" I asked, feeling the Sentinel we were descending in bank to the right. So we were approaching the bridgehead.
The Togruta chewed her lip for a moment, then declared:
"Too many problems?"
"Correct," I nodded. "The galaxy is a complex organism. Dozens of peoples have grievances against each other. And I doubt Zakuul needs to resolve them. It's much simpler to take what is already ours — the territories of three system armies, a couple of dozen planets and sectors across the galaxy. Considering how much has already been captured for us in the Unknown Regions and Wild Space, it might turn out that our territory equals what's left of the Republic. So the question is: why take something by force when you can just wait and see how events unfold?"
"Let the Republic and the Confederacy completely screw themselves over, and then accept into the Empire, on our terms, those who get disillusioned and ask to join us?" Oli was struck by a thought.
"In broad strokes, yes," I agreed. "A lot of work has been done to weaken our enemies both internally and externally. The Republic has existed, despite endless crises, for tens of thousands of years. How many times have they tried to break it across their knee with brute force... The conquerors always got their asses kicked. No, I didn't build the Eternal Empire just to have it last a couple of years. Don't forget that the Republic has billions of new clones on its side, about whom we only know that they are genetically improved. Stronger than our soldiers. But what else they have in their arsenal, besides superhuman strength, is still unclear."
"You think our guys won't be able to handle it?" Oli tensed up.
"Good question," I chuckled. Turning to the clone captain sitting across from me, I asked: "Grem, what do you think? If you had to fight the Arkanian clones, would you manage?"
The commander of the only company of killer clones in the entire GAR, smoothly transformed by me into bodyguard clones, exchanged glances with his subordinates seated nearby. Then he looked at the vibroswords built into his vambraces.
"Naturally, sir," he stated without a shadow of doubt. "Just give the order — we'll cut their hearts out."
"And the Jedi?" Ahsoka asked quietly.
Grem took off his helmet and looked at the girl carefully.
"Commander Tano," he said. "We were trained from birth alongside the Padawans of the Jedi Order. Taught to counter their techniques, skills, tricks. I could disarm any Jedi with my eyes closed, and then shove his own lightsaber up his ass along with his severed hands."
"Grem," I shook my head. "Commander Tano is a young lady, actually. You could be a bit more tactful."
"Sorry, sir," the clone replied in the same tone. Glancing at the Togruta again, he corrected himself. "'I could shove his lightsaber up his butt,' ma'am."
Muffled laughter, dampened by their helmets, came from the bodyguard clones.
Smirking under my own mask, I leaned back in my chair, studying the soldiers sitting before me.
After the communication session with Palpatine, distributing a holo-recording of that conversation throughout the ships was a matter of simple procedure. To induce cognitive dissonance in those clones who either didn't yet know about the fate the Sith had in store for them, or who doubted... And to get maximum profit. Every single clone from the corps or ship crews was unanimously on the side of the Empire. A good indicator.
Of course, I had to give a speech over the fleet's comm channel. Explain the party line. Clarify what the Empire was, what role clones played in it, and offer them a choice right now. Well, it turned out even better than expected. A good approach; I'd have to repeat it in other units. When the time came.
To be honest, I expected the most resistance from the killer clones. Those guys... To put it mildly, were a law unto themselves. They knew what they were created for — to kill Jedi on command. They had trained for it. They knew nothing else. And if shit went down, they could have caused a lot of trouble on the Spirit of Fire. Which I naturally wanted to avoid.
The conversation with Grem had been tough. I had to explain, practically in words of one syllable, who the Jedi were, why the Sith didn't like them, what this whole plan was about — both mine and Palp's... Long and substantive. But the results were corresponding.
Was there value in these guys, honed for just one purpose? Yes.
No matter how hard I tried to increase the number of my Force-sensitives, we were still outmatched by the Jedi by a factor of several times. Specifically, by two to one, if the data on Jedi numbers was correct. And the numbers were: approximately five thousand knights and masters at the front. Nearly fifteen hundred Padawans with them. And about another two thousand wounded, crippled, or unassigned (mostly Padawans, or guys from the AgriCorps and other non-military Order divisions) in the Temple on Coruscant. Almost nine thousand. I had, at best, two to two and a half, counting absolutely everyone — students, temple masters, guardsmen, Hands, the Black Guard... In an open confrontation, we'd be like... well, screwed.
So it wouldn't hurt to acquire as many individuals capable of opposing Force-sensitives as possible.
And Grem with his guys were a pretty suitable batch for that.
All that remained was to test them in action. To find out how good they were. Fortunately, there were more than enough targets on Saleucami.
Each legion and corps on the planet had its own objective — even the volunteers. And that wasn't an exaggeration — to achieve the necessary operational reserve, I'd had to request five more assault corps from Christophsis. Not counting the fact that we had over twenty commando squads at our disposal, sent out on free hunting.
Yeah. Grievous had managed to prepare the defenses here thoroughly. I don't know if there's an expression for this in a galaxy far, far away, but... the damned cyborg had definitely covered his bases.
That's why the first target for the strike on Saleucami's facilities was a camouflaged cloning laboratory for Morgukai warriors. The most secret and the most dangerous object for me and my goals.
The Morgukai were a sect of the Nikto race. Brutal warriors, trained to kill those sensitive to the Force. The history of their hatred for the Jedi was unknown — due to the secrecy of this sect, even the Order's Archives didn't have any complete information. Except for one thing — the Morgukai were quite knowledgeable about the business of killing Force-sensitives. And killing an ordinary sentient was like blowing their nose for them.
How many they had managed to clone here on Saleucami was a mystery. At least, I didn't remember. The commando clones, who had swarmed the planet before our strike and the seizure of a bridgehead, hadn't achieved any worthwhile results either. However, knowing the location of the cloning production facility was already a success. We wouldn't have to comb the entire planet looking for the miracle. Like on Geonosis, where the cleanup of the catacombs was still ongoing. Or on Hypori.
Oh... That's right. Dooku had relocated several Geonosian hives here to provide the droid factories with the necessary labor force. So... We'd still have to work hard here.
The shuttle touched down on the improvised landing pad with its struts. The killer clones rose as one, moving out in two squads toward the exit. Following, according to the security formation, were me and my apprentices. Two more squads from the same company brought up the rear.
"Good to see you, sir," Marshal Nyx, an old acquaintance of mine, met me right at the ramp. He had been, to my shame, out of my sight for quite a while. Not good. Loyal people needed to be kept close. You could never have too many.
"What's the situation, Nyx?" I asked, watching out of the corner of my eye as my bodyguards formed a small perimeter — about twenty meters by twenty — around me and both girls.
"Bad, sir," he replied without mincing words. "This isn't a laboratory, it's a fortified area. Turbolasers, rocket troopers, tank ambushes... Breaking through will be difficult."
"But not impossible," I noted.
Saleucami... A planet with potential for the Empire's needs. The Geonosian factories had needed to be retooled for manufacturing Imperial equipment, and that had taken about a month. Given the distance of the Imperial army's rear bases from this sector of the front, we desperately needed a large number of production facilities here — close to the enemy. It wouldn't be long before Palpatine and Dooku threw all their forces at us under one pretext or another. I really didn't like the idea of pitting my stormtroopers against Arkanian ones in battle. Better let the Skywalkers handle exterminating the Republic army. We'd save more lives.
But unfortunately, right now there's no way to use this weapon. Because there's less of it than needed. And it's too early to show our enemies (and allies) that we have an ace up our sleeve.
A month. We just need to hold out for a month.
In that time, the New Forge will finally finish work on creating my flagship.
The Empire's factories will be able to build the minimum necessary mobilization reserve of weapons, ammunition, and armaments...
Rothana will release the first "Ravagers" and "Terminus-class destroyers."..
Sienar will launch two more shipbuilding docks at Dromund Kalakar...
Ventress will finish establishing outposts and fleet bases in the Mordell sector...
And a lot more besides...
Just one month.
"Let's go to the command post, Nyx," I suggested. "We'll discuss what we can do on the ground."
One year and five months after the First Battle of Geonosis, the slaughter at Saleucami began.
* * *
He surveyed the students in his course with his eyes.
Students... It wasn't even funny.
There were very young younglings here from among the former Jedi. And teenagers who had intuitively used the Force in their lives.
And even a young guy. What was his name? Stryn. Yes, Stryn. A gas prospector from Bespin. The latest addition to this training group.
"My name is As'trent," he introduced himself. "To you, I am Instructor As'trent. My task is to give you an understanding of the fundamentals that will be connected to your entire future life."
"But we already know how to use the Force," a Twi'lek boy protested.
"Jinx," hissed a human girl sitting next to him, "shut up."
"Don't tell me to shut up, Kalifa!" he protested. "I'm a former youngling, and I have to listen to all these boring speeches about how to feel the Force again?!"
Too hot-headed. Too impatient. Lacks perseverance.
A poor candidate.
While his friend – Kalifa – is a perfectly attentive listener.
The human girl Kalifa, the Cerean O-Mer, the Twi'lek Jinx – these three were delivered from the moon of the planet Trandosha, Wasskah, where the Trandoshans had been hunting them. Reptiles always irritated As'trent – especially their bloodlust.
This trio is a typical small social group with a clearly defined leader – Kalifa, a rebel – Jinx, and a quiet one – O-Mer, who is too easily led by others' opinions to be a personality. At least, at this age. Though he is clearly interested in the prospects of training on Tython.
Another group – a pair from the planet Firrerre. A girl, Rillao, and a boy, Hethrir. She is calm, balanced. Has an aptitude for healing. He is cunning, perceptive, and despite his young age – ready to walk over anyone. A poor candidate.
Haris, a native of the planet S'kytri – outwardly similar to a human. Except for the pair of wings on her back, of hollow skeletal bone. Quite perceptive, distrustful, but not lacking in talents. Aggressive. It will take some work to knock the foolishness out of her head.
Nova Steele. A young human male, gifted with precognition. Calm. Thoughtful. An analytical mind. From early childhood, he has intuitively used the Force, without being aware of it.
Lyun Oddo-Divinian. Another human. With an extremely interesting fate. Born into the family of a senator father, who, upon learning of the child's abilities, wanted to exploit them. The mother, taking the child, fled far away. Where representatives of the Emperor found her and persuaded the mother to give the child up for training at the Tython Academy. How they managed this is unknown. And it will most likely remain a secret forever. However, the sixteen-year-old boy still ended up here. A fairly solid "average student."
But the last pair... this is, credit where it's due, a real treasure trove.
First of all, special attention was drawn by a teenager from Eol Sha named Gantoris. Sullen. Cautious. Attentive. Thirsty for knowledge. Even in his early years, he managed to save the lives of his kin using the Force, predicting dangers. His connection to the Force is great, but... An extremely borderline state. He is impatient, wanting to learn everything at once. It's quite possible that to keep him from rash actions, he'll have to be taught individually. Gantoris is clearly learning faster than the others, and therefore, treating him like everyone else could cause irritation and push him towards independent searches. Which is dangerous. Tython is not the safest place for those who want to achieve everything through their own intellect. At best – someday his remains could be found at the bottom of some chasm in an attempt to obtain some ancient artifact missed by search groups.
The second... This is already practically an adult, albeit young, man named Stryn. A beginner, but extremely successful gas prospector from the planet Bespin. Astonishing abilities in Force Empathy. Once on Tython, whether from fright or fear, he created such a Force Vortex that only the Academy Director, Lady Zavros, was able to break through it, knocking the student out with a punch to the jaw.
And this group of motley beings was subordinate to him.
"Stop it," As'trent ordered quietly but authoritatively. However, the noise created by the squabbling of the trio who had escaped the fate of becoming Trandoshan trophies did not subside. The irritation of the other students was clearly felt in the Force – especially from Gantoris. Yes, the boy is literally on the edge, ready to snap at any moment. Still, it will be harder with him – not to single him out from the general body of students, so as not to let pride cloud his mind.
As'trent, looking at the clear sky of Tython, sighed heavily. Oh, it was no accident that the Force suggested to him that the first gathering of the training group should be held outdoors.
As he had done thousands of times before, in an instant he opened himself fully to the Force, absorbing all the power of the Light and released it in the form of a Force wave, from which the arguing students from the training group sitting in a semicircle before him flew away like turbolaser bolts, ending their journey in a quiet backwater of the local river.
Silence reigned, mixed with emotions of bewilderment... And admiration.
Waiting until Kalifa and Jinx returned to the group, wet from head to toe, clearly suffering from a lack of warmth after bathing in the icy water, the instructor, turning to the Dark Side with a short discharge of Force Lightning, lit the dry logs prepared for the fire. The lesson was planned until late at night, and extra warmth wouldn't hurt anyone.
"So, you have just witnessed the application of two aspects of the Force," he said quietly. "Let this be a lesson to you for the future. You came here to learn. No one dragged you here by force. This is your personal decision. Be sensible from now on – don't turn the lesson into a circus. I'm warning you just once – in the future, such antics will be punished very severely."
"What else can you expect from a Sith," Jinx snorted. Strange. His teeth were chattering, but he delivered the retort without stumbling or stammering.
"Do you have something against pure-blooded Sith, Student Jinx?" As'trent inquired coldly.
"We were taught that people like you are the cause of all wars in the past," the Twi'lek explained. "Sith have been leading Jedi astray for millennia. Why should we trust you?"
"Good question," As'trent smirked, stroking his head-tails. "So, my appearance bothers you?"
"You can't expect any good from Sith..."
"Really?" the instructor raised an eyebrow. "That sounds very Jedi-like. If I have red skin, head-tails, and a natural inclination towards the Dark Side – does that make me evil?"
"Yes!" the boy blurted out hotly. Then, seeing that none of his comrades were supporting him, he added sheepishly, "Probably..."
Children... The most vulnerable category of beings. It's no coincidence the Jedi tried to take toddlers for upbringing – they're so easy to brainwash.
"Well, I'll remember that," the pure-blooded Sith promised. "And, I confess, my teacher, Master Bela Kiwiiks, a member of the Jedi High Council, would be pained to hear such words."
An awkward silence fell.
"You... Were a Jedi?" asked Kalifa.
"I was," As'trent confirmed. "For most of my conscious life."
"But you're a pure-blooded Sith!" Jinx reminded him.
"So what?" the Sith asked imperturbably. "Can't a person emigrate?"
"Is that even legal?" Jinx said, bewildered.
"Perfectly," the Sith continued. "You see, Student, as you rightly noted, I am a pure-blooded Sith. I was born over three and a half thousand years ago on Dromund Kaas – the then capital of the Sith Empire. I trained in the ways of the Dark Side on Korriban as a Sith Inquisitor. Achieved great heights in mastering all possible techniques for killing beings – both Force-sensitive and otherwise. I was death on the battlefield. Terror in the hearts of Jedi. Appearing on battlefields, I killed hundreds, if not thousands, and disappeared as quickly as I appeared. For decades, Jedi Shadows hunted me. And they didn't succeed."
"But... Then how..."
"In time, I was tasked with investigating the activities of a cult known as the Order of Revan. Fanatics who believed... Well, their worldview and delusions aren't important. Something else is. They opened my eyes. Gave me food for thought. Showed me how to draw the Force not only from anger and my own fears, but also from spiritual harmony. How to keep my emotions under control. It changed me, and I surrendered to the Jedi. For several months I was interrogated, every secret I knew was extracted. And after I was drained dry... the Republic had no use for me. Master Kiwiiks decided to teach me the ways of the Light Side of the Force. And I... turned out to be a grateful student. Patient. Attentive. One who has known the depths of the Dark Side can easily master the ways of the Light. It's not easy, but, as you can see, it's possible."
"Did you fight against your own kind?" asked Gantoris.
"My duty as a Jedi required it," As'trent confirmed. "It brought me no joy, but it was the only way I could put an end to my brethren's atrocities."
"And what happened then?" asked Stryn. "I heard you were frozen on Belsavis."
"Three and a half thousand years of sleep... Yes, that's how my path ended. When the Republic finally broke the back of the Sith Empire, when all members of the Dark Council were killed... I was arrested and frozen. The new regime, having destroyed the centralized strongholds of resistance to its plans, was covering its tracks. I criticized the destruction of Iokath by the Republic superweapon – the 'Hammer' station. I was outraged by the extermination of the Sith in the Dromund system. I called for reason when nuclear warheads fell on Zakuul. In the end, one day the Order faced a choice – either get rid of those representatives who did not share the Council's general policy, or lose the support of the Republic. Despite the fact that the Empire and the Eternal Alliance were defeated, the Republic had to fight against numerous remnants of the former Empires. And they didn't need doubters. So I ended up in stasis for many years."
"Unbelievable!" exclaimed Hethrir. "You betrayed your own blood ties for them, and they... Betrayed you?"
"Yes," As'trent confirmed. "A grateful Fatherland rewarded me with a knife in the back."
"But why did you decide to train those sensitive to the Force?" asked Stryn. "There are many Jedi here..."
"Former Jedi – first of all," the pure-blooded Sith corrected. "And, secondly, and most importantly – Imperial Knights – that's what my being wants. I was on the Dark Side. I was on the Light. I served in the name of destruction and fought for peace. I caused pain and received redemption. And I am ready to share with you what I know myself. To teach you life lessons that most don't even suspect. To set you on the path. To unlock your abilities and help you find yourselves in the future. To make the right choice and follow it to the end. To give you the necessary foundation and help you know the very essence of the Balance of the Force. To open your eyes to the advantages and disadvantages of the teachings of the Sith and Jedi. To help you separate the wheat from the chaff, truth from conjecture. So that you will never again be destined for a fate like the one I had to endure. Learn from my mistakes. Use my knowledge and what the Temple Masters will tell you in the future to find true power, which lies not in a drive for destruction or sacrifice in someone else's interests. Might comes from knowledge. And the more you absorb here, on Tython, the easier it will be for you going forward. I hope those were all the questions you were interested in? If so, and judging by your inspired silence, it is, let's move on to our first, but by no means last, lesson. So, the Force. It is the omnipresent energy field that connects everything and everyone in our galaxy..."