There was the usual silence in the captain's cabin of the Dawn Eagle. The light was dimmed, and the room was filled with a pleasant twilight.
Revan sat on his bed in a meditative pose, and a half-disassembled lightsaber hovered in the air before him. The main focusing crystal floated separately from a cloud of small parts, slowly rotating around its axis. It was on this that the former Jedi concentrated.
In the Council chamber, during the duel with that dark-skinned master, Revan clearly felt resistance from the crystal in the hilt of his own sword. The stone, which he had once received from Master Jarr, no longer suited the reborn ancient knight and required "adjustment." This had happened in the past as well. For the crystal to harmoniously resonate with its owner's power, it needed a kind of "faceting." Meditation sessions and infusing the mineral with Force energy directed by the gifted helped the stone "remember" its owner and attune to him. However, with the owner's growing strength and experience, the crystal also needed adjustment.
Opening his eyes and looking at the facets of the almost transparent stone with green veins, Revan smiled warmly. The crystal felt like a part of his own body again. Over the millennia that this mineral had spent in the Star Map cave on Tatooine, it had changed significantly, and, among other things, its color had changed from emerald green to its current translucent state. But still, Revan felt a strong connection with it. The very one that was established during the years of fighting on the Order's side during his "atonement." It was a pity that it was not the stone that the former Jedi wore in the hilt of his blade during the Mandalorian Wars. However, it would no longer suit the resurrected knight, as he was no longer a Jedi. Like the red crystal, received as a gift from the Emperor and lost on board the flagship, since Revan was no longer a Sith either.
At the owner's will, the blade reassembled itself and smoothly descended into his outstretched hand.
"You even take care of your weapons with your Force?" Tyra's voice came from the cabin door.
Revan, who had sensed her approach a few minutes earlier, merely turned his head slightly towards the Mandalorian and, with a mental command, raised his second lightsaber into the air.
"A Jedi's weapon cannot be assembled properly without the use of the Force," he replied.
"Nonsense," the girl waved it off. "I've seen these toys assembled more than once. A rather primitive design: a battery, an emitter, and a lens. Well, and a shard of crystal instead of a prism. Nothing complicated."
The former Jedi merely smiled at the mercenary's ignorance. The uninitiated could not understand all the subtleties of the process. After all, the design of the sword had not changed for centuries. And the pair of blades he himself used were already over four thousand years old.
"The processing of each part and their soldering occur at the molecular level," Revan still tried to explain. "The crystal is faceted in the same way. The arrangement of internal components requires immense precision. A deviation of even one nanometer is unacceptable. Incorrect placement of the focusing element or weak soldering will lead to destabilization of the plasma loop and explosion of the power source."
"And why such complexity for a sword that doesn't even have weight?" Nomad snorted.
"As you should know, the lightsaber blade easily reflects blaster fire," Tyra nodded at these words. "However, this is far from the limit. A standard sword in the hands of an experienced Jedi can deflect even a salvo from a heavy laser turret of a tank like an AAT. And theoretically, even a shot from a small-caliber cruiser cannon. Now imagine the load on the plasma loop, the emitter, and the receiving circuit? Even if we don't consider the gyroscopic effect from the cyclical movement of the loop, the kinetic energy from the collision doesn't disappear anywhere. Even the best tools cannot provide sufficient strength of connections. In essence, the hilt should be a monolithic structure, which is impossible to achieve, as the material of the connected elements is sometimes radically different. However, with the help of the Force, this effect can be achieved."
The Mandalorian stood with her head slightly tilted and listened to the Jedi's explanation. Her face was hidden by her helmet, but Revan was sure that his improvised lecture had aroused genuine interest.
"The properties of the Force-infused material are significantly enhanced, which gives the entire structure additional strength and durability."
"It sounds too…" the Mandalorian tried to find words. "In general, too much. I don't like all this magic and mysticism."
"Like all Mandalorians," Revan chuckled, remembering his acquaintances from Clan Ordo.
"But not all Mandalorians have encountered Dathomirian witches," the girl shrugged.
"Dathomirian witches?" the former Jedi asked.
"Yes," the mercenary nodded. "It's a cult on the planet Dathomir. The women, called witches, use strange magic. They like to use illusions and curses that don't kill immediately. And they recruit servants from the Zabrak who live in several settlements on the planet."
Revan pondered. Any manifestations of mystical abilities he had encountered so far turned out to be some form of the Force. In the case of the Dathomirian witches, everything was most likely also related to the Great One.
"Wait, Zabrak?" a thought suddenly flashed in the ancient one's mind. "Is my old acquaintance, Maul, not one of them?"
"I once took a contract to retrieve some trinket that a senator had carelessly promised to give to the head of the cult, Mother Talzin," Tyra continued in the meantime. "He gave it, but immediately wanted it back. Six mercenaries accepted the order. Only I returned. But the order was fulfilled."
"Was it difficult?"
The girl nodded.
"We weren't taught to fight ghosts," she said a moment later.
"Canderous would have answered differently," Revan chuckled mentally.
"How is Anakin?" the former Jedi decided to change the subject, making a mental note to learn more about the Dathomirian witches.
The question was superfluous, as the ancient one already knew perfectly well where the boy was. The connection between them was felt more and more strongly. And it was simply impossible for a gifted person not to notice such a bright concentration of the Force.
"He's sleeping in the next cabin," Nomad replied in a displeased tone. "And I'm not hired as a nanny!"
"But you didn't object much either," the Jedi smiled, receiving a portion of curses in Mando'a in response.
Tyra had indeed agreed to help the boy settle into the ship, where she herself was a guest, without any argument. Revan didn't know exactly what prompted such behavior from the mercenary, but he could guess. Several factors played a role, the first of which was the maternal instinct, amplified by Mandalorian upbringing, which paid great attention to the clan and care for its future – the next generation.
Moreover, as Revan had noted earlier, Tyra was not a born Mando'ade, but was raised in one of the clans. The girl, in fact, could be a native of any planet in the galaxy and from any humanoid race. It was impossible to tell under the helmet and full armor set. One could only say with certainty that she was quite close in body structure to a human. Otherwise, montrals, leku, and other exotic body parts would not have allowed her to wear a standard set of Mandalorian armor.
"Where are you from, Tyra?" Revan suddenly asked, realizing that he had been looking at his interlocutor's helmet for a minute.
The mercenary tilted her head slightly, showing surprise caused by such an unexpected question.
"Dxun," she replied dryly.
"The one near Onderon?" the Jedi clarified.
The mercenary nodded.
"My clan has many ties to this planet," she added. "It is a heritage that everyone in Clan Nomad is proud of."
From what Revan had managed to learn about the clan that had sheltered his interlocutor, Nomad was a collateral branch of Clan Ordo, which had separated from it about three thousand years ago. Therefore, the heritage the girl spoke of was most likely the outpost of Mandalore the Preserver.
"Truly, the world is small," the former Jedi thought. "Or is it because of me? The Force is bringing me together with Clan Ordo for the second time."
However, there would be time to think about this later. Moreover, Revan now had a debt to Tyra. And the favor that Nomad had asked for promised very interesting events.
"But where are you from?" the former Jedi clarified. "Where did you live before you came to the Mandalorians?"
"It doesn't matter," the girl waved it off and, stumbling a little, finished. "My… home disowned me. Now I am Nomad of the Mando'ade."
"You won't even name your race?"
"No," Tyra crossed her arms over her chest.
Revan wanted to continue the conversation and still try to find out the details of the girl's past, but this had to be postponed to a more suitable time, as HK entered the cabin with unexpected news.
"Responsible remark: Master, you asked to be informed if a signal was received from your communicator, given to that bag of meat on Naboo," the droid said.
Revan perked up. He did not expect Maul to contact him so quickly. However, the moment was quite opportune to meet with the "other" side.
"What was in the message?"
"Indifferent quote: He agrees to the meeting. Today. At 20:00 standard Coruscant time. Level 1321, sector A-733, block N-22, abandoned cantina. Come alone," the droid replied, reading the text of the message aloud.
Revan stretched his lips into a slightly sinister grin. Some part of his being, hidden deep inside, anticipated meeting the one who dared to walk the path of the Dark Side. The spirit of competition, inherent in all Sith, suddenly reminded him of itself, calling him to test the impudent one who dared to claim the title of Darth. But first and foremost, the ancient gifted one wanted to see who managed to raise a student under the noses of the Jedi. And even to orchestrate an almost successful capture of Naboo. And there was no doubt that this was the work of Maul's former mentor.
"Any invitation that ends with the phrase 'come alone' turns out to be a trap," Tyra smiled, interrupting the former Jedi's thoughts.
"A meeting with a Sith is always a trap," Revan replied in kind. "And if someone whom the Sith considers a competitor is invited to this meeting, the probability of a trap becomes one hundred percent."
"And why do I have a feeling that you're still going to go there alone?" the girl asked in a slightly stricter tone. "Did you forget that you still owe a debt? Who will pay it off?"
"Oh, what touching concern from a Mandalorian," the former Sith smirked.
"With disgust: Sentiments. I'm going to be sick," HK-47 grumbled almost inaudibly.
From R2, who drove past the cabin, came a sharp whistle and something resembling laughter.
"Threateningly: Learn to walk first, you undersized trash collector, and then you'll discuss the limitations of my design," the assassin droid almost roared at the astromech.
The little mechanic preferred to quickly leave the forty-seventh's line of sight.
"Didactically: However, the female bag of meat is right, you shouldn't go alone."
"Hey!" Nomad exclaimed indignantly, not liking the dismissive address to her person.
"Suggestion: Take me with you. Droids are much harder for a Force user to detect," HK continued, ignoring Tyra's threatening posture.
"No, I'll go alone," Revan shook his head. "This meeting will be a mutual test. And therefore, I would not want to disappoint my potential opponent. However, you will wait nearby and organize a safe retreat if everything gets out of control."
"Request: Permissible degree of destruction during the preparation of the 'retreat'?" the assassin droid asked hopefully.
"Moderate," Revan replied.
"Request: Is the use of combat weapons and explosives in addition to stunners permitted?" HK cautiously clarified.
The former Jedi pondered.
"Well, at this level, it's all just riff-raff living here anyway!" Nomad chimed in.
The girl shook her head in surprise, as if she thought the droid had nodded gratefully in her direction.
"I permit it," Revan finally replied.
In the blink of an eye, the Forty-seventh transformed, straightening his shoulders and clicking his servos.
"Joyfully: Thank you, Master! I will begin preparations immediately."
"Good."
The droid, nearly sparking with anticipation, left Revan's cabin, leaving him alone with Tira.
"What will be required of me?" the Mandalorian clarified. "As I understand it, I can't get too close to the meeting place?"
"Precisely," Revan nodded. "Even a weak Force-sensitive can sense a threat directed at them with a decent probability. What to expect from the one who invited me to the meeting, I don't even know. Therefore, it's better to be safe."
"And?"
"And I'll ask you to organize cover for us. HK is good in a fight, but he can't be everywhere at once. I know we don't have much time, but it would be good to hire some mercenaries. The kind who don't ask questions. Their help will be useful on the lower levels."
"Hmm, I have a couple of debtors in mind," Nomad mused, rubbing the lower part of her helmet. "Though they're under the Black Sun. So, they'll still demand payment."
"Within reasonable limits and exclusively in credits," Revan warned. "The limit for services has already been exhausted."
"I'll see what can be done."
Revan nodded, and the mercenary hurried out of the cabin to get to work.
The former Sith himself began to prepare for the upcoming meeting. The experience of his past life had taught him never to underestimate an opponent. Therefore, Revan took the unknown dark side user very seriously.
For the meeting, he decided to wear the full set of Mandalorian armor he had acquired earlier and a light, threadbare cloak with a hood. The mask also took its rightful place. After all, for the Sith, the entourage and appearance had always been important. First impressions were very important, and Revan concluded that he should recall the image he had cultivated during his reign over the Empire. A grim appearance, dark clothes, and the terrifying aura of the Dark Side.
The former Sith took a deep breath, releasing some of his suppressed power. The almost forgotten, intoxicating feeling of his own might washed over him like waves from a refreshing mountain stream. The Force. Power. Omnipotence.
"An illusion," Revan whispered quietly, as usual, bringing his emotions under control and dispelling the delusion caused by the influence of the Dark Side.
Anyone weaker would have been intoxicated by their power and become a slave to their desires, as often happened with unprepared "light" users who unconsciously crossed to the "other" side. The Jedi were quick to label such beings as Sith. But those who fell to the Dark Side had little in common with true adepts of the Dark Side. Those who subjugated the Force to their will, and not the other way around.
The riot of darkness around the ancient Force-sensitive gradually subsided, leaving only a thin veil that enveloped the man's figure like a second cloak. However, any Force-sensitive would understand at first glance that this was not a simple upstart with a couple of tricks up his sleeve, but a Sith Lord. One who had once borne both the title of Jedi Master and the rank of Darth.
Revan spent the remaining time before the meeting in meditation, trying to glimpse the future or at least catch some hint from the Great Force.
However, he couldn't feel anything specific. A sense of danger hung in the air, but it was too vague. The images the Force sent were blurred, as if something had destroyed all the most probable future scenarios, and the future was not yet determined. The former Jedi even thought that he himself might be the cause of this. However, the Force had clearly brought Revan back to life for a reason. It was logical that he would be at the center of the changes.
Visions related to Anakin, which had previously appeared to the former Jedi, resurfaced in his memory. Now he had no doubt that these were possible future scenarios. But which one was he moving towards, having taken Skywalker as his apprentice? What would this boy become? And what threat would it pose to the balance?
Time flew by unnoticed as he pondered these questions. Anakin, having woken up, tried to sneak into Revan's cabin but was stopped by the vigilant HK-47, who, in his usual manner, explained to the boy that his master should not be disturbed by various "potential sources of trouble" at the moment. Along the way, the droid assessed Skywalker's physical and mental abilities and predicted his imminent death. Or, as an alternative, the death of anyone who became his mentor. And since the "beloved master" of the iron maniac had volunteered to be his mentor, the promise of swift retribution was added to the droid's already "cheerful" monologue.
Due to the almost polite rebuff from the assassin droid, the former Jedi had to interrupt his meditation and leave the cabin to calm down the child who was on the verge of tears. This, however, was achieved quite easily. It only required occupying the boy with something. Concentration training was perfect. The young fidget needed to be taught to focus on the task at hand before starting real training. And so, for the next three hours, the boy built a giant pyramid out of Pazaak cards. R2 was assigned the role of babysitter this time, much to HK's immense delight.
By the appointed meeting time, Revan was unhurriedly walking through the deserted streets of the not-so-prosperous sector A-733. Although, the ancient himself would have called this place a real dump. Even the underground city on Taris was cleaner! And the stench that filled the air around made the former Jedi think more and more about sealing his mask and switching to a backup armor supply.
The dim light of the soot-stained lanterns hanging from the high ceiling, which served as the sky for the inhabitants of this block, barely allowed him to make out his surroundings. The wrecks of burnt-out speeders, like monuments to a civilization that had left here, were located on both sides of what could be called a street. Peeling walls with streaks of rust and black-green mold stains completed the picture of devastation. How anyone could live here remained a mystery.
A relatively intact building of an abandoned cantina, where the meeting was scheduled, had barely appeared ahead when a burst from a blaster carbine struck the steel plate under Revan's feet. The ancient stopped.
He had sensed the surveillance three blocks back. It was then that he dropped his disguise, assuming that a "welcoming delegation" would be sent to meet him. After all, not to probe the opponent before the meeting would have been the height of foolishness on the part of the Sith. Or even a sign of disrespect.
The ancient chuckled under his mask, watching as a motley group of young people surrounded him. Apparently, it was a local gang hired by the meeting organizer to entertain the guest. A select bunch of scum, whose emotions and echoes of thoughts made the former Jedi nauseous.
"Seven, nine... eleven sentient beings," Revan counted mentally, probing his surroundings with the Force.
"Take off your armor!" a man in dirty and battered gear, vaguely resembling the armor of the Senate Guard, roared. "Hand over your credit chips and give us your account numbers! And then we'll think about whether to let you live."
"Veteran or deserter?" the former Jedi thought. "Or maybe taken from a corpse?"
"Are you deaf?!" the same representative of the local criminal underworld shouted.
Someone from his gang tried to jump at Revan and hit him on the back of the head with the butt of his blaster. However, he froze a step away from his potential victim, dropping his weapon and clutching his throat.
"Scavengers," the ancient Sith said quietly, closing his eyes.
A shot rang out. However, the charge went somewhere into the ceiling, as the shooter suddenly lost the ability to breathe.
Revan had neither the time nor the desire to play with these losers. Therefore, a few moments later, eleven figures hung a meter above the ground around Revan, held by the Force. The ancient clenched his fist, and an unpleasant crunch around announced the end of the adventures for the group of criminals who had the misfortune of agreeing to the offer of a strange man in a black robe. And the job was supposed to be quite simple – to scare the masked fop, rob him, and, if desired, kill him. But everything went completely wrong.
"An interesting test," Revan thought, stepping over the body of the gang leader. "A Jedi would definitely not have passed it."
The next moment, the former Sith felt a powerful aura of a Dark Side adept somewhere inside the cantina building. It seemed the host was inviting the guest in.
Finding the room where he was expected was not difficult. The Force clearly indicated the path to the source of the sinister clot of darkness, in which the essence of a Sith could be easily discerned. A true Sith. Cold hatred, locked in a cage of self-control. A ruthless predator, obsessed with the thirst for personal power, might, and authority, but hiding behind the mask of a sentient being. This was how the members of the Dark Council on Dromund Kaas once felt. This was Vitiate.
Memories of the Sith Emperor made Revan flinch. The most dangerous opponent he had ever faced.
Listening to his senses, the ancient corrected himself. The one waiting for him ahead was more restrained than the madman who had turned Nathema into a dead world, devoid of even a speck of living Force. But he couldn't read him in more detail. The unknown Sith skillfully closed his mind.
Finally, Revan reached the correct door and, listening to his senses, entered the room. There was no trap anywhere.
At the far end of the hall, which had apparently been a VIP lounge for the most "generous" visitors, was a long oval table, at one end of which sat a figure in a black robe with a deep hood that hid his face down to his lips. The stranger demonstratively rested his hands on the table, showing that he was not hiding a weapon. However, Revan clearly felt the wave of the Force that swept through the room as soon as the former Jedi entered. He was being tested again.
Responding to the "greeting," the ancient released a little of the Force, allowing the raging Dark Side to envelop his figure, blocking the opponent's influence.
The stranger stirred slightly, clearly surprised by the reaction. However, the presence of someone else was suddenly felt in the room. The ancient concentrated and reached out to the Great Force for help. In the dark corner, the outline of a familiar Zabrak's figure emerged.
Mentally, Revan praised Maul. He was hiding very well. Almost at the level of assassins from the Old Republic era.
However, someone else was felt. A third. But he was not here... At least, the sensation was more like observation than presence. As if someone was watching the meeting from afar.
However, the fact that the unknown would not come to the meeting alone was never in doubt. So, Maul's presence was expected.
"Why are you frozen?" the stranger's deep voice echoed in the complete silence.
"Like a good guest, I await an invitation from the organizer of the meeting," Revan replied, not taking his eyes off the face hidden by the hood.
"Well, first, I think we should introduce ourselves," the one in the black robe said, leaning forward slightly. "After all, it's not often you meet a Sith on Coruscant."
Revan chose to remain silent at this remark. Denying the title of Sith now would be foolish. The ancient intended to extract as much information as possible from his interlocutor, which would be much easier if he were also considered a dark side adept.
"So?" the unknown asked impatiently. "What is your name, young Sith?"
"Oh, he even managed to guess my age? Or was it a shot in the dark?" the former Jedi thought.
"I'd like to understand who I'm talking to first?" he crossed his arms over his chest.
The interlocutor flared with irritation. However, he quickly brought his emotions under control.
"I am Lord Sidious," the Sith straightened his shoulders, demonstrating a proud posture.
Following his words, a wave of darkness rolled through the room, chilling to the bone. The ancient noted with surprise that his interlocutor fully deserved the title of lord. The power that Sidious concealed was truly immense. He was the first Force-sensitive whom the former Jedi could compare to his contemporaries without laughing out loud. The level of training remained a question. However, Revan preferred not to find out yet. As the "little training" with the Masters showed, the former Republic general had become a bit rusty, or perhaps his new body was not yet ready for the previous loads.
Another flash of displeasure mixed with impatience came from his interlocutor.
"Revan," the ancient introduced himself.
"Revan?" Sidious repeated, with undisguised sarcasm in his voice. "Not Master Revan or Darth Revan?"
"No, just Revan."
The Sith suddenly burst into a hoarse laugh, not taking his eyes off his interlocutor.
"I was expecting to meet an equal," he said through laughter. "And I got a visit from another young, half-baked fool who decided to appropriate the name of an ancient lord?"
Revan tilted his head slightly, waiting for his interlocutor to finish speaking.
"Call yourself Rivan, Revan, or Bane himself!" the Sith continued. "It won't change your essence!"
"I wonder what you're getting at?" the ancient mused at the same time.
"The knowledge you've probably gleaned from a holocron is not enough to comprehend the full power of the Dark Side," Sidious slowly rose from the table.
"So, he thinks I found my own holocron?"
"But I can show you the path to greatness and power!" the Sith continued his speech. "Become my servant."
Revan felt his interlocutor begin to concentrate the Force and quickly recognized the technique.
"Bow before your Lord!"
By the time the branching Force lightning shot from Sidious's fingertips, the former Jedi had long been ready to deflect the attack. Deciding not to risk it, as in the fight with Vitiate, by taking the blow with an open palm, Revan unleashed his own lightning to meet the opponent's attack. The discharges collided in the center of the hall, provoking an explosion that created a wide hole in the floor and ceiling of the room. The opponents themselves had to hastily shield themselves from the shockwave, but both managed to stay on their feet.
If Sidious was surprised by such resistance, he did not show it. Instead, he calmly moved the overturned table back into place and settled into a comfortable chair from which he had stood up just a minute ago.
"I suppose we're done with the greeting?" the former Jedi chuckled.
"Yes," the Sith nodded. "Please, sit down, Lord Revan."
"Darth Revan," the ancient lord of his own Empire corrected mechanically.
"As you wish," Sidious replied with a barely perceptible smile.
For a few minutes of tense silence, the interlocutors studied each other. Revan clearly felt the growing pressure of the Force caused by his interlocutor's concentration. However, as well as his own. Each sought to learn as much as possible about the potential opponent, but encountered skillful barriers and masking veils.
The sudden change in the interlocutor's behavior was alarming. Although, Sith were always known for their eccentricity. But there was something else here. As if someone had ordered Sidious to stop... Or, conversely, he felt an external presence, because an invisible third party was still present on the edge of sensitivity, and decided to ascertain the degree of threat.
"So, you wanted to talk to me?" Revan broke the silence first.
"Funny. I got the impression that you were looking for me," Sidious replied. "Otherwise, why would you have left my apprentice alive?"
"Out of curiosity," the former Jedi explained.
"I thought something similar. But still, why should a fallen Jedi who disappeared a thousand years ago interfere?"
"Subtle," Revan thought. "An excellent jab at any Sith's self-esteem. To hint that he's just a Jedi playing at being evil and wait for a reaction. A fallen light user with a frayed psyche would have already snapped, like Juhani, who sincerely considered herself the embodiment of darkness until we met."
"Our meeting is just a result of chance," the ancient tried to explain. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."
"Chance or not, it doesn't matter. But you'd better not interfere in the coming events," Sidious said, his tone slightly changed.
Revan grasped the meaning of the message. A big game was being played. And the target would most likely be the Senate or the Jedi. The presence of a Sith on Coruscant clearly indicated this. And given the long-standing hatred of dark side adepts for the knights of the Light and the Republic they protected, the conclusion was obvious.
But Revan also had his own goals. And the Force was increasingly clearly setting them before the ancient. This meant that all points should be clarified immediately.
"I have my own interests on Coruscant," Revan said thoughtfully. "And perhaps they will intersect with yours."
"That is unacceptable," Sidious hissed.
"Then we are at an impasse."
"Not necessarily."
Sidious made a barely perceptible gesture with his hand, and the next moment, literally out of thin air, the figure of a Zabrak appeared before Revan.
The ancient did not twitch a single muscle, although internally he prepared for battle. However, one question remained open. To whom was Maul loyal?
"Command me, my Lord," the red-skinned Zabrak knelt before Revan.
"So, you've decided," Sidious chuckled, apparently expecting his apprentice's betrayal. "Well, we can solve two problems at once."
The room filled with the sound of assassin droids falling from the ceiling and activating in flight. No less than fifty iron soldiers, strikingly different from the mindless B-1s Revan had encountered on Naboo, formed a tight ring around the former Jedi and his now definitely apprentice.
"Master?" Maul hissed, taking a stance with his activated light staff, ready to defend his mentor.
"To battle," Revan said dryly, accelerating his mind and body.
And on the other side of the galaxy, in a fortified bunker, a Muun with a mad look stared at the image broadcast from numerous hidden cameras in the abandoned cantina on Coruscant.
"It worked!" he exhaled, watching the fruit of his experiments rush into battle with a horde of droids.