The future of the Jedi Order… Which, as I knew all too well, had no future.
Gradually, my thoughts drifted toward events yet to come within the Jedi Temple—more precisely, to Order 66. Now, armed with near-complete knowledge and the ability to calmly analyze and weigh facts, I found myself approaching a logical conclusion.
Yes, in some ways, Palpatine had been right. Each of his actions could be logically justified—at least through Sith logic. But… following his duel with Windu, he surrendered to the Dark Side, and the situation with his apprentice, Vader, only worsened matters. Overconfidence betrayed him, and Palpatine, who was not only a Sith but also a politician, a brilliant schemer, and one of the most powerful Force users in history, was no more. The trap he had prepared for the Alliance became his own.
And yet, before his fall, he was capable of orchestrating operations on a much larger — and more ingenious — scale. The Clone Wars alone were proof enough.
"You fought in the Clone Wars?" Luke once asked Kenobi, long before any cartoons or comics—back in Lucas's very first film.
The conflict entered galactic consciousness precisely as the Clone Wars. Palpatine... he had executed a truly mesmerizing combination: he created and orchestrated a war of galactic scale, and yet the losses among the inhabitants of this very galaxy were negligible. Clone armies and droid armies clashed in brutal battles—mostly on barren worlds or far from population centers. Everything went smoothly, if not perfectly—there were a few hiccups—but the desired result was achieved. The Republic was transformed into the Empire, and the Jedi were destroyed.
Or almost.
Those who were useful—or who didn't loudly proclaim themselves Jedi—lived quietly and peacefully, largely unmolested. The Inquisitorius did not emerge from nothing, after all. Even those who continued to consider themselves Jedi rarely rushed to rebuild the Order or openly oppose the Sith; at most, they caused minor inconveniences. The only truly notable incident was the ambush on Vader, when they tried to chop him up with a cortosis blade. Aside from that… everything was relatively calm.
One could argue endlessly about the age-old enmity between the Sith and the Jedi—about who was right and who was wrong. It began so long ago, back on Tython, that judging it now was pointless. For at their roots, they have the same group of Force-sensitive beings from the Je'daii Order.
And then…
The Jedi and the Sith fought.
The Jedi destroyed the Sith.
The Sith slaughtered the Jedi.
Both Orders rose and fell. Both were drenched in the blood of their enemies.
But still—
Yes, the Jedi were the true Guardians of the Republic. For the most part, it existed only because of them—both the Old Republic and the New. Yet that was exactly what they were: guardians. Before Ruusan, the Jedi still wielded real influence over the galaxy, when Chancellors could be chosen from among their ranks. But after that…
After that, they stepped aside, relinquishing power to ordinary beings.
The Jedi kept the peace, and all was calm.
Meanwhile, the Senate gradually transformed from a governing body into a cesspool mired in bureaucracy and bribery, and the position of Chancellor became almost hereditary. Finis Valorum—who was later replaced by Palpatine—was the sixth representative of his dynasty to hold the office. Not consecutively, of course—no one would have allowed that—but still, at least once every century, a member of that family rose to the chancellorship. Over time, however, the position itself became increasingly hollow.
What could one say? The "emergency powers" Palpatine now struggled to obtain had been commonplace for Chancellors a thousand years earlier. All this time, the Jedi guarded the Republic like silent shadows.
The Jedi way preached peace and harmony… but it also bred stagnation.
The Sith walked a path of destruction, yet in their wake followed an invisible shadow of development and creation. Progress. When the galaxy was torn apart by countless battles between Jedi and Sith, it teemed with life. New technologies emerged, discoveries were made that reshaped everything. And now, after long centuries of stagnation, the time had come for another upheaval. True, such change required a catalyst—an impulse.
And Palpatine became that impulse.
He was a Sith, and that imposed certain limitations. But… he was, so to speak, the next link in the chain. He took only what he needed and acted as he pleased, without looking back. In particular, he abandoned Bane's Rule and other aspects of the Sith doctrine—and that, in truth, was the correct decision. As a result, he forged an Empire that truly became the First Galactic Empire: one that encompassed most of the galaxy, not merely the portion known at the time. During Palpatine's reign, new regions were discovered—or long-forgotten ones reclaimed.
Yes, the Empire was far from perfect. In many ways. But… it existed for only a little over twenty years. Twenty-three, to be exact. A new generation of sentient beings had not yet grown up, and not all of the Republic's vices had been eradicated. And the Sith—the rulers of the Empire—were cruel. Power-hungry. Merciless.
But without them—without the Empire—there would have been no Alliance, no Rebellion. The pilots of Rogue Squadron and countless other units would never have taken to the skies. Admirals would have languished in obscurity, never given the chance to reveal their talents. There would have been no Leia, no Luke—not as they ultimately became. Hell, even the very existence of Han Solo as a brilliant pilot and smuggler would be highly questionable.
Perhaps the Republic, as it stands now, could have defeated the Yuuzhan Vong… More precisely, it undoubtedly would have defeated them—the Jedi should not be underestimated. But at what cost? Perhaps a quarter of the Galaxy's population would not have perished — a quarter of the population could only have survived. I... won't take it upon myself to make such drastic changes. The responsibility was too great, and the outcome too unpredictable. I would never even consider opposing it outright.
Perhaps all these events were the will of the Force itself. Who knows? Where am I—and where are they? I am not the Chosen One. Far from it…
"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!"
So Obi-Wan Kenobi said.
But… how can there be balance if one side of the scales is empty? Perhaps Skywalker did restore balance—albeit in a twisted way. Still, these were only speculations, unsupported by hard facts. The same events could be interpreted in countless ways.
But now… now, looking at these children…
I had often wondered how much Skywalker was "in his right mind" when he slaughtered the younglings. And the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that he had completely lost it—because I could find no other explanation for his actions. He had butchered the same Tusken tribe on Tatooine—children included. Even if that had been done in a fit of rage, still… he didn't reach the younglings—those who had been killed by him—immediately. First came the massacre of the Jedi, the deaths of his own men from the 501st Legion… Yes, he chose Palpatine's side consciously—he needed him.
I became even more certain of this after meeting him in person. Yes, it was brief—first impressions can be deceiving, and all that—but… you can't completely hide one's essence. In some ways, I even understood him—not as a Jedi, but as a person, because calling him a Jedi in the full sense of the word was difficult. He never went through the foundations they studied from early childhood. He had already doubted many things and denied many others. He was impulsive, harsh… and at the same time, utterly unprincipled.
The concept of honor meant little to him.
No—that wasn't entirely true. When it concerned himself or those dear to him, he simply broke the rules to suit his needs. Shortly after becoming Sidious's apprentice, taking the name Darth Vader and swearing loyalty to the Sith, he told Amidala that he was ready to kill Palpatine and seize his throne.
"Together, You and I Can Rule the Galaxy, Make Things the Way We Want Them to Be!"
A revealing moment.
Damn it… his wife was pregnant. Pregnant, for the Force's sake—and he calmly murdered children. Without hesitation. I think Amidala didn't want to live precisely because she felt this. She was ready to forgive the murder of the Jedi; she forgave him many things—but not the slaughter of children. And Obi-Wan… well done, dumping such details on her. A diplomat to the core.
Can I—if not change history—at least bend it slightly? Is there even the slightest chance to keep the younglings alive?..
It would be unimaginably difficult. Almost impossible. The Empire... is a complex construct, but I like the Republic even less. Still, these gifted children could become, in the distant future, the force that would one day crush the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Yet such an outcome would require steps that even I was not entirely comfortable taking.
But… things rarely unfold the way we want them to.
Do I have the determination to choose a different path—to try?
...No! Enough!
"Do. Or do not. There is no try."
Yoda said that. And damn him, he was right.
But there was one more line to add: Stop tormenting yourself.
And I truly had no choice.
I promised Ahsoka…
I promised
****
I never ceased to be amazed by the methods of travel in this galaxy—especially hyperdrives. That was where the true mystery lay... Despite the fact that the hyperdrive had appeared in the distant past—believed to have been invented by the Ancients more than a hundred thousand years ago—and that its use in recorded history predated even the Galactic Republic, no one fully understood the principles behind its operation, the finer points of its design, or the essence of the processes taking place within it. Yes, every century brought increasingly sophisticated and refined engines—more powerful or more economical—but in this regard, we were like savages who didn't know what a wheel was and had simply stumbled upon a cart.
We travel with the help of these hyperdrives, covering enormous distances, but… yes, even I know the basic principles of how they work—despite the fact that this system is the most complex piece of technology in the galaxy today. In short, this is how it functions: after the system receives a command from the ship's pilot, the hyperspace jump process begins with the collection of gamma radiation in the conductor field. The motivator builds up and modulates energy in the thermonuclear reactor through several kilometers of superconducting wire twisted into a loop. To enter hyperspace, the hyperdrive accelerators are supplied with energy from the ionization chamber. Inertial dampers protect the ship, crew, and cargo from being crushed by the tremendous acceleration. After the jump into hyperspace, the quantum field generator helps stabilize the ship and prevents it from prematurely exiting the alternate dimension.
Deflector shields protect the ship from fatal collisions with interstellar gas and dark matter particles. At such velocities, the material component of matter becomes far less significant than its energy component. In the early days, when flight speeds were relatively low—the engine class by modern standards would barely have reached forty—ships were equipped with particle shields designed to counter the material component of matter. However, once engines managed to cross the threshold of the current twentieth class, the physics of flight changed. The corpuscular shield ceased to be a panacea and was gradually abandoned, replaced by more powerful and economical deflectors that consumed four times less energy.
Well, yes, even now, the internal volume of a ship is used to its absolute limit; no one can afford to carry ballast, let alone excess air. Weapons did not stand still either—blasters, lasers, turbolasers, and ion cannons advanced to a new level, becoming orders of magnitude more powerful than kinetic systems. But let us return to our Bantha.
To prevent the relativistic passing of time while in hyperspace, starships used a so-called "stasis fields" device tuned to the hyperdrive. It remains poorly understood, and how exactly it works is still unclear—but it works. It maintains standard galactic time for the crew and cargo; otherwise, time outside the ship would accelerate dramatically. When exiting hyperspace, an unknown technological solution—unchanged for millennia—is used to decelerate the starship: during entry into and exit from hyperspace, radiation is generated, which is often used by planetary customs authorities to track fleet movements. The flight itself through hyperspace cannot be detected, but it was precisely this "radiation" that made it possible to detect the ship about twenty to thirty seconds before it jumped into normal space.
Other hyperdrive components, such as the 4-axial stabilizer and the hyperdrive regulator, protect the ship from tearing itself apart while traveling through hyperspace.
And there were many other mysteries surrounding the hyperdrive. Why, with identical flight parameters, does a ship travel faster along certain routes and slower along others? Why do ships, regardless of the protection they possess, always exit hyperspace at the edge of the galaxy, where intergalactic space begins? And no matter how hard engineers and technicians tried to make them operate there, they never could—the systems kept failing, and only when the ships turned back did everything start working again…
"General, we have reached Corellia," Lichtendal reported.
Standing on the bridge, I watched the scene unfolding on the main displays. Corellia. Technically, we had entered the system ten minutes earlier, but the planet was still quite distant. Local authorities had tightened flight regulations, with good reason to fear attacks from the Separatists. As a result, ships were now forced to exit hyperspace far from the edge of the gravitational well rather than at the usual point. Any vessel that attempted to violate this rule would be destroyed immediately. I suspect a few such incidents occurred before everyone realized the regulations were no joke.
Of course, the Corellians had pulled off a serious stunt by announcing their departure from the Republic—a process initiated by Senator Garm Bel Iblis—in protest against the creation of the GAR and the fleet, as well as the Republic's involvement in the war. But in practice, no one really cared. Politics is politics, and contracts are contracts. At the shipyards of Kiris—an asteroid belt on the edge of the system—new vessels continued to roll off the assembly lines: CR90 corvettes and DP20 frigates, including orders for the Republic itself. Corellia StarDrive valued its reputation, and its ships were solid.
Still, no one seriously intended to let Corellia go. It was more a demonstrative gesture than a real secession. And honestly, that was normal here—the eternal "confrontation" between Corellia and Coruscant. Both have a mania for "greatness." It seems there was once Alsakan as well. As far as I recall, people colonized them at roughly the same time, and both worlds were key members of the motley coalition that founded the Republic some twenty-five thousand years ago.
That's where it all began. Coruscant prides itself on being the capital of the Republic, while the Corellians boast about pioneering the first hyperspace trade routes and the uniqueness of their system—one that many believe was artificially created by the Celestials over a hundred thousand years ago. That theory seems plausible. The system contains five planets and a single asteroid belt, and all of them are inhabited—something that simply cannot be natural.
If memory serves, Corellia eventually had to return to the Republic after the CIS, dissatisfied with warship supplies, attacked the system. True, they got their asses kicked. The Corellian system fleet numbers over five thousand warships of various classes, including roughly two dozen so-called "Corellian Battlecruiser"—three-kilometer-long, slow-moving behemoths with heavy armor and hulls bristling with weapons of every conceivable caliber. The number of starfighters is impossible to calculate precisely, but it's no less than ten thousand.
Such a massive fleet exists because Corellia has always been a major trade hub—and because the adventurous mentality of most Corellians, the system turned into a paradise for smugglers, with the locals earning a reputation as the best in the business. All these ships were built to ensure the safety of trade routes. There's even a small Jedi organization—the Corellian Jedi—operating independently from the Jedi Order and maintaining order within the system.
What can I say? "Until the rooster pecks, the Cossack's freedom will not end." The Jedi Council had finally realized that this war would not end quickly, because it could not be resolved using their usual methods—like those employed during the Yinchorri Uprising or Stark's Hyperspace War. They would have to fight, and fight seriously. And with the chaos that marked the first months of the war, that had been unrealistic. Naturally, changes were brewing.
Although other factors came into play as well. These included the incorporation of planetary and sector armies, fleets, and militias into the GAR, along with the growing influence of Palpatine, who was overseeing this entire process. After all, the new powers he had tirelessly pushed for extended not only into the military sphere, but into the civilian one as well.
The first—and most significant—change was Directive 24-Dorn-1/6. Its essence was as follows: all the diversity of troops, units, and ranks was to be organized into a single register. From now on, ranks would be divided into twenty-four classes, further subdivided into four categories: high command, middle, junior, and lower. The Jedi, too, received formal ranks, complete with all the trappings—rank bars, code cylinders, and even salaries! But judging by canon, if such a reform truly took place—and it must have—the Jedi unanimously ignored it. Yoda held the highest rank, with the code D-1. There was no one above him.
In addition, troops and organizations were now clearly delineated. Aside from the Order, the fleet was listed separately, followed by the pilot corps. Militias and planetary armed forces were placed into their own category—the auxiliary army. Which made sense: placing them on the same level as clones would be somehow illogical. Scouts and the newly formed Internal Affairs Corps (IAC) also found their place in the structure. Well, it's kind of funny: before the war, the Jedi and the Judicial Department handled all of this. But now they're all at the front. And so there's simply no one left to deal with the mundane tasks of guarding trade routes from pirates and catching smugglers. There were no ships—they had been requisitioned by the navy—and no crews to man them. So a new structure was being hastily assembled to patch the gap somehow. But I found the whole endeavor dubious, especially in wartime. God willing, if at least in a year they manage to get their work running properly.
And then there was the headache known as the PDF. I remembered that the abbreviation stood for "Planetary Defense Forces," but here in the GFFA that term wasn't used, and I had no idea where I'd picked it up. Still, it was easier to say than "auxiliary troops" every single time. Units from different planets, different weapons, different supply standards—often not even human, but other sentient species. Well, okay, that's not even the main problem.
No one doubted the loyalty of the clones or the Jedi. Individual deserters or traitors didn't even register as a statistical error—they were pure nonsense. But when it came to ordinary sentient beings, doubts naturally arose. Spies, provocateurs, saboteurs, traitors—none of that could be ruled out. As a result, in addition to intelligence and counterintelligence officers attached to units, personnel from the newly formed Republic Security Service would also serve alongside them. Whether they were meant to be "commissars," "special officers," or "political instructors," — I didn't quite grasp the scope of their duties, the text was far too vague.
Oh well. Their headache was their headache. And even if they end up just loafing around — I'll find a use for them. No one will be left out, that's for sure…