The hum of the deck beneath the Togruta's feet was quiet and steady. It was barely felt—the systems of the strike fleet's flagship, the Blade, a Valor-class heavy cruiser named the Telos, were tuned to perfection despite their multi-millennial age.
Ahsoka didn't particularly delve into the technical details of the ship's modernization, but she recognized—this vessel significantly surpassed any Republic starships in its firepower parameters. To the sixteen heavy turbolasers of the Venator, brought into two batteries of twin turrets, or the fourteen heavy turbolaser twins and sixteen super-heavy turbolaser guns of the Predator's main battery, the Telos could oppose thirty twin turbolaser guns, identical to those that formed the firepower of the Republic's current primary spacecraft—the Venator. This was to say nothing of the numerous quad laser cannons acting as anti-aircraft artillery surrounding the ship in an impenetrable deadly umbrella, batteries of ion cannons, and concussion missiles.
Of course, the starfighter wing of this ship was inferior to a Venator's—only 144 fighters, and even that was after additional modernizations already in the Kristof system. However, Ahsoka did not doubt that should the need arise—this ship, leading a fleet of thirty Hammerheads and twenty Marauder corvettes, supported by more than ten Acclamators with landing troops and an equal number of Pelta-class frigates in medical modification, could cause quite a stir in any system occupied by the enemy. Any enemy.
The goal of the upcoming operation was kept in great secret. Master Dougan didn't particularly explain the reasons for such conspiracy. And no one present really wanted to ask him questions.
Especially when the grim faces of both Dashade peered from behind the man's back.
A premonition of imminent trouble yanked Ahsoka out of her spatial reflections. The girl, instantly orienting herself, ducked, letting a massive vibrosword pass over her, the mere sight of whose blade made her feel ill.
However, in the next second, a muscular gray paw appearing before her face grabbed the girl by the throat, and Khem Val, ignoring her attempts to free herself, jerked her upward and then painfully slammed her back against the floor.
Despite the fact that the entire surface of the former senior command staff dining room of the cruiser, transformed into a training hall by the will of the Grand Moff, was covered with thick, resilient mats designed to reduce the injuries of those practicing, the girl felt that the wind had literally been knocked out of her.
"A pathetic parody of a Sith Lord," the Dashade grumbled, looking down at the defeated girl. "Neither of you is worth the pinky of my former master. Ignoramuses and bunglers."
"I'm starting to regret the Master taught us Comprehend Speech," a plaintive voice drifted from somewhere to the right. Turning her head, Ahsoka noticed with a smile that a few meters away from her, Olee was on all fours, with a distinct mark from the flat part of the Dashade's sword on the right side of her face. It seemed she wasn't the only one who had missed the monster's swift attack.
"I have devoured thousands of Jedi," Khem boasted. "But not one of them was so..."
"Charming?" Olee asked.
"Diligent?" Ahsoka clarified, following her friend to her feet.
"...stupid," the Dashade finished crossly. "You are a worthless mass of flesh. I wouldn't even devour you after a victory. Oh, Tulak Hord, why this punishment?"
"You shouldn't have gone into stasis," Olee said with hurt in her voice, rubbing the bruised spot. "You'd have been dead and decomposed by now..."
"My race lives for thousands of years," Khem countered. "And after the rituals of Sith magic—I and Usar will live another thousand, thanks to Eternal Wrath—the ability of the Dark Side to maintain one's body using constant pain and rage for continued existence. And with every year lived, we will only become stronger."
"And what are these rituals for?" Olee asked with interest. Ahsoka, who had been preparing to continue the duel, realized that the Dashade had completely lost faith in them as sparring partners, and throwing his massive sword behind his back, he sat on the floor in a meditation pose, clearly inviting them to move to the theoretical part of the lesson.
On the one hand, it was insulting. The fact that Dougan himself, who could have taught both girls something more, preferred to dump this work on his subordinates. During the flight to Yavin, Olee had repeatedly sparred with Kira while Dougan, locked in his cabin, studied some records. Ahsoka herself, who had only just reconciled with the thought that after successfully gaining loyalty among the Zeison Sha she would become Lady Grell's apprentice, had, to her disappointment, returned to the active army. Meanwhile, the Sarkhai continued her mission of recruiting Force-sensitive supporters for the new Order.
The girl sighed heavily.
Ahsoka did not doubt that by killing each of her opponents during the trial and healing herself by siphoning their suffering and turning it into energy to heal her own body, she had acted according to her conscience. Such was the condition for passing the test. They just hadn't told her that in time.
The leader of the Zeison Sha, despite losing his son in that battle, had kept his word. A group, though small, had joined the Order. They must have already arrived on Tython by now—a place the girl wanted to visit. She cherished the hope that one day she could reach that legendary planet...
"Darth Xarion obtained some records of Emperor Vitiate before the fall of the Empire," Khem explained. "A Force technique that allowed for the creation of one's own doubles. You saw how he masterfully used it during the battle with the Emperor. And he nearly succeeded in his undertaking. I know many Sith rituals and techniques that Xarion collected over the millennia. I, like his other associates, received access to all of this. Including—over me, as over the others, Xarion performed the ritual of immortality, which Emperor Vitiate, according to legend, subjected his servant—Lord Scourge—to, in order to make him the first of the Emperor's Wraths."
"No way," Olee whistled. "I know a lot from the Jedi Archives, but immortality..."
"It is not what you think," the monster shook his head. "For all those thousands of years, my body was torn apart by unbearable pain, until the nerve endings finally rearranged themselves, becoming numb from the constant tension. Now I am not troubled by hollow emotions or background pain. On the contrary, I absorb them like a sponge and turn them into a deadly weapon."
"Wow... and your previous master, Darth Nox," Olee inquired. "What was he like?"
"A true Sith," the Dashade said with a touch of pride and sadness. "Ruthless to enemies, fierce in battle, merciful to those ready to recognize his dominion. His ambitions knew no bounds—he manipulated both enemies and allies."
"Wait a minute," Olee squinted. "It seems Lady Zavros, who oversees the Academy, was a companion of Darth Nox in the past..."
"Ha-ha-ha," the Dashade's laughter, sounding more like the sound of tearing metal, painfully hit their ears. "So, the little Togruta survived? And considers herself a full companion? A naive fool who never got rid of her Jedi delusions."
"I don't really like your reaction, monster," Ahsoka muttered. "I met with Lady Zavros and..."
"The Togruta is but one of Darth Nox's numerous intrigues," the Dashade growled. "She can say as much as she wants about being an associate or an assistant to the little Sith, but she is no more than a tool of his influence. A vivid result of my former master's power."
"How so?" Olee wondered.
"Darth Nox gave her a Sith holocron to study," Khem Val recounted. "And after she studied it, her fall to the Dark Side was only a matter of time. She became Nox's apprentice, which only underscores his boundless might and power over sentients."
"So... he just manipulated her to win her to his side?" Olee realized. "That's kind of disgusting..."
"Nox sought power," Khem Val countered. "He was not afraid of the new, experimented with old, long-forgotten knowledge, and did not shy away from openly supporting the development of new types of weapons. He supported those who were useful to him and felt true pleasure in torturing his enemies. His path to the heights of power in the Empire was so swift and impressive that the greatest Sith, politicians, and military men sought alliance with him. The Dark Council, mired in its ignorance and resting on the laurels of past achievements, realized its delusions too late—only for almost all of them to be killed by the troops of the Eternal Empire."
"And Nox himself survived, didn't he?" Ahsoka asked, immediately receiving an answer to her question with a nod from the monster. "And why didn't he stand against Valkorion?"
"He went into hiding," Khem Val reported. "Gathering supporters and accumulating strength to strike. It was not his fault that Valkorion's bloodhounds found him first."
"It doesn't sound much like he's worthy of the praise you're giving him here," Olee smirked. "If he had so many supporters and allies, how did it happen that he was tracked down and killed, and you began serving another?"
"A common story among the Sith," the Dashade growled. "You wouldn't understand, little Jedi, where true strength and greatness lie..."
"No, actually," Ahsoka started to smile. "That's an epic failure. Epically soared to the heights of power..."
"And flew off them faster than a whore off a skyscraper roof," the Togruta felt a non-trivial jealousy and bitterness in her friend's words.
Frowning, she looked around for the source of Olee's dissatisfaction.
And she found it quite quickly.
While Khem was training the girls, Dougan was not idling.
On the contrary, clad in light training pants, bare-chested, he was intensely honing his own skills. With the help of two Zabraks.
Ahsoka, casting a glance at her friend, inwardly smirked.
Olee was jealous of her teacher because of Lady Hexeid and Lady Simi, with whom the man was training. He opposed both former Sith at once, who, armed with double-bladed sabers, were trying to defeat him. Granted, they were doing so clad in light training suits that were notable not only for hugging their sexy figures but also for shamelessly displaying the charms of both for all to see.
"Were all Sith women total sluts?" Olee asked with distinct hatred in her voice. The Dashade, taken aback by this question, "hung" for a moment, then, following the direction of the girl's gaze, laughed once more.
"Every sentient with even a shred of ambition uses all their talents to achieve a higher position than they currently occupy," the Dashade reasoned. "For Sith women, there is nothing shameful in using their bodies for such a purpose."
There was sense in the monster's words. Ahsoka already knew from Olee that Dougan was partial to girls of other races—specifically, Twi'leks. The girl rightly believed, like most of the galaxy, that women of that race enjoyed deserved popularity among men thanks to their unconcealed sexuality. Like Zeltrons, Zabraks, and... Togrutas.
Therefore, looking once more at how the pair of Lady Sith were fiercely fencing with the Grand Moff, not hesitating to strike sexy poses and demonstrate their revealing cleavage to him (and there was plenty to see even to the eyes of the young Togruta), Ahsoka only smirked again, sensing the rage emanating from Olee.
"Use your emotions for more," the Dashade advised. "It will strengthen your connection to the Force, unlock new resources in your body..."
"Shut up," the Emperor's apprentice growled, instantly finding herself on her feet. A moment, and the Force boiling within the girl erupted into the surrounding space, surrounding her with a translucent sphere of energy. The girl's rage grew by the second, causing the surface of the Protection Bubble to fill with black-violet glints. Force Lightning of the same color flickered across the surface of the formation from time to time. "I'll kill them both..."
"Excellent," the Dashade roared, pleased with himself. "You catch on quickly, little Jedi. Few Sith sorcerers were capable of such..."
A growl was heard from Olee's tightly pressed lips. The Protection Bubble increased in size in a leap, and Force Lightning broke from its surface, rushing toward the Dashade. However, Khem Val didn't even move. Extending a hand, he caught the Lightning, absorbing it without harm to himself.
"Tutaminis?" Ahsoka managed to notice that her friend's actions were a response to her teacher's actions. He, elegantly disarming Lady Simi, grabbed her by the waist with one hand, pulling her toward him. At the same time, he tripped her so that she fell forward, draped over his leg. Dougan, not particularly shy of his apprentices, loudly slapped the Zabrak, with her long tail of braided dreadlocks, on the backside, commenting, "Well, that's it, now you're working in my bedroom tonight."
"Sith sorcery," Khem smirked. Then, softening, he grunted. "My race is invulnerable to Force attacks. One of the reasons we are the best killers of Force-sensitives."
"Hm," Ahsoka only muttered. Today's lesson was dedicated to various defensive techniques. The Dashade patiently, though not without swearing and threats, taught both girls techniques from his own repertoire. Unfortunately, neither of his students had managed—so far—to create a Protection Bubble or a Force Barrier. And at that moment, Ahsoka felt a sting of envy toward her friend.
The Togruta had earlier learned that she needed both sides of the Force and used them successfully. However, as Lady Grell said, her anatomy, emotions, character, and temperament did not suggest the girl would eventually become someone like the ancient Jedi sages or Sith sorcerers.
Her destiny was to be in the thick of battle. Wielding lightswords, hacking enemies left and right, concentrating on enhancing her natural talents—speed, agility, acrobatics.
But Olee...
"She has a talent for more sophisticated types of Force usage," Dougan had once said shortly before departing Yavin. The Togruta was helping him pack artifacts and holocrons for transport to a safer location. And the conversation naturally turned to the Emperor's apprentice. "While a Padawan of Jocasta Nu, she familiarized herself with many Force techniques—aspects of the Light Side, of course. I am extremely impressed that she was able, without any training, to establish a Force Bond between us. And moreover—her personal progress, even without targeted training on my part—is impressive. But since our acquaintance—the full reveal of cards—I have concluded that she is capable of much more. But to unlock her potential, she needs constant motivation. She intuitively denies using the Dark Side, so... in short, I'm exhausting myself trying to shake the foundations of her Jedi dogmatism. When that succeeds... I'm not sure there's anyone among our acquaintances capable enough to stop her."
"She's a good fencer," Ahsoka recalled.
"Not every fight can be won by waving a lightsaber," Dougan shook his head. He was thoughtfully examining an outdated set of armor—the only one in the entire fortress. "I am confident that Olee's potential lies in a completely different area. Sorcery, complex Force techniques—that is her domain. Kid, help me put on this armor."
Only now did the girl realize how right Dougan had been. Even unconsciously, Starstone easily grasped what the Togruta herself could not achieve.
Guided by these thoughts, she looked at the Emperor again. The girl's sharp gaze did not miss the masculine beauty he possessed. A handsome, manly face, strong features. A muscular body, as if carved from stone and now covered with beads of sweat, moist from the prolonged training. His smooth lunges and strikes, like in a deadly dance, forcing the opponent back... The drive, authority, and power emanating from this man... were attractive.
Ahsoka, shaking her head, drove away the stray thoughts.
Casting a glance at her friend, who was still continuing to condense the Force around her, Ahsoka noticed that Olee, suddenly relaxing, collapsed the Protection Bubble. The power of the Force swirling around her dissipated as if it had never been there. The girl's emotional state leveled out—the Emperor's apprentice had regained control over her passions.
"Enough for the first time," Khem Val barked, rising to his feet. "Paltry, weak, and amateurish... But for a start—it'll do."
However, Olee didn't seem to hear the Dashade. He, meeting Ahsoka's eyes, turned indifferently and, waddling from foot to foot, strode toward the exit.
"Look at those hussies," Starstone hissed, not taking her eyes off the pair of Zabraks who, smiling sweetly, were helping Dougan wipe off his sweat. Yes, it seemed that training session had also ended. "I hate them..."
"And you care that they're swarming around your teacher?" Ahsoka asked, yawning.
"Very much so," Olee spat. "I... I feel how they literally get wet at the mere sight of him. After he defeated their former master, they just won't leave him alone. Horned bitches..."
Ahsoka raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"You've really got a bee in your bonnet," she started to smile. "Watch out, you'll pop from anger..."
"I'd ambush each of them in a secluded corner and knock their horns off," Olee said dreamily.
"So what's the problem?" The Togruta noticed out of the corner of her eye that Dougan had activated his holocommunicator, looking intently at someone's small figure. "Challenge them to a duel..."
"I can't," Olee sighed bitterly. "They're stronger—I'm not stupid enough to get beaten by them. Once I get better at Khem Val's lessons, then I'll give them a proper run for their money. If," she cut herself off, "the teacher allows it."
"And you're so obedient that you'll ask him for permission?" Ahsoka doubted her friend's words.
"No, but... When I saw him pawing them, I wanted to rush in and chop them both into cutlets," Olee admitted. "But the teacher said he'd send me to study the Hero of Tython's archive if I acted up in class."
"Well, first of all, I didn't see him pawing BOTH of them," Ahsoka, noticing that Dougan and then both Zabraks had left the hall, stretched, relaxing her strained muscles. "Only Lady Simi..."
"You were just staring at me," Olee growled. "But I saw him corner that red-faced one and grope her..."
"Like, actually grope?" Ahsoka giggled. Encountering her friend's serious gaze, she wiped the smile from her face.
"Take my word for it," Starstone assured her. "He knocked the sword out of her hand, grabbed her by the throat with one hand, and by the waist with the other. And he pressed himself all against her... He was definitely kissing her, his back just blocked it and I couldn't see."
"You have a Force Bond," Ahsoka recalled. "Don't you feel everything he does?"
"Not always," Olee shook her head. "Sometimes he closes himself in the Force. Especially at night," she recalled with a grim expression. "You can bet on it—he's screwing one of his sluts at night."
"Olee," Ahsoka said seriously. "I think you've become obsessed with this. Can you think about anything else at all?"
"I... I guess," the girl, as if catching herself, gripped the hilt of her own lightsaber. "It's just like he's mocking me. He knows I'm crazy about him, but he..."
"WHAT?!" Ahsoka's eyes widened. Olee, catching that she'd clearly said something she shouldn't have, guiltily pursed her lips. "You didn't say that..."
"Hey, I can have my own secrets!" Olee snapped. "And there's nothing wrong with that!"
"Actually, he's your teacher," she reminded her. "And the Code..."
"To the Hutts with the Code!" the black-haired girl barked. "How long has it been since we started following it? We're building an entire Empire, plotting against the current government. Let the Jedi stick to their rules. But I—I want Dougan and I'll keep wanting him!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, friend," the Togruta raised her palms in a conciliatory gesture. "Take it easy. I just said..."
"Do you know how hard it is—to spend time side-by-side with a man who is the most sacred thing in the whole galaxy to you," Olee said with shades of pity. "To look at his face, his big, strong hands... For me, today's training was just torture! In all the time I've been his apprentice, this was basically the first time I saw him without armor, bare-chested..."
"Wait a minute," Ahsoka frowned. "He's been in the Halls of Healing so many times, and you hung around his ward. Surely...?"
"Ahsoka," the Starstone she had once met in the Temple training halls looked at her with grim reproach. "I may be obsessed, and a woman head-over-heels in love, but I'm not a pervert. I definitely haven't crawled under the covers or into the pants of a comatose man and I don't intend to."
"Too bad," Ahsoka smiled. "Maybe that was your only chance to get your lustful little hands on his body..."
"Not the only one," a supernatural, fanatical gleam appeared in Olee's eyes. "The Master once said that he likes me..."
"At least don't lie to me," Ahsoka said with a skeptical face. "If those were his words, you'd have crawled under his armor already—no matter how much he resisted."
"Ugh," Starstone waved it off. "Maybe he didn't say it exactly like that, but the meaning was the same. Anyway, he has some hang-up about us not being able to make love until my sixteenth birthday. That's how it's done on his home planet..."
"I have no doubt you enlightened him on the galactic standard age of consent..."
"Of course," Olee nodded. "But he said his conscience wouldn't allow him to do that to me... Anyway, I have a plan."
"And what is it?" Ahsoka yawned. All this talk about Olee's raging hormones was starting to seriously grate on her. And not even because the girl, though formally still listed in the Jedi Order, was talking nonsense that, if heard by any member of the Council, would get her kicked out with a boot to the backside.
It was just... Ahsoka closed her eyes, remembering second by second the details of Dougan's sparring with the Zabraks. Yes, there really is something to learn and something to see there...
"Hey, anyone home?" The Togruta opened her eyes in irritation, feeling the girl tapping her on her montrals.
"I'd tell you what you should use your hands on," Ahsoka said crossly.
"Tried it," Olee sighed. "It doesn't help anymore. It only makes me want it more..."
Ahsoka, with a sigh, facepalmed.
"All your thoughts are in one place, aren't they?" she asked without much hope for a normal answer.
"And what else do two friends talk about?" Olee asked in surprise.
"And when, in the name of the Hutts, did we become friends?" Ahsoka wondered. "When you ratted me out to your teacher that I dislike him? Or when you blew me off regarding fencing? Or when you distracted me in the Archive?"
Try as she might, Ahsoka couldn't recall a suitable episode in her life. However, explaining anything to this... restless vagina was just a waste of time.
"So are you listening?"
"What were you talking about?" Ahsoka clarified.
"About the fact that I have a plan," Olee grimaced. "Well, about the teacher and the sixteenth birthday!"
"Aha," Ahsoka yawned again. "And what is it?"
"Anyway," Olee sat on the mats with a pleased look. "I've been browsing sites on the HoloNet and found a virtual store with such amazing clothes... Rick has already seen me in a nightgown—but it was modest. But when I put this on and come to his cabin after my birthday—only a few months left—he definitely won't be able to resist. And he won't have anything to counter me with—I waited patiently. I'll be sixteen, and he said that only after that age is something possible between him and me..."
Ahsoka, having listened to a good half of what her friend was saying, suddenly caught herself thinking that...
"That's all wonderful," she rose to her feet. "Your plan is great—do it. He definitely won't resist."
"Hey, where are you going?"
"Need to," Ahsoka, closing her eyes for a second, tried to shake off the obsession, "take care of... legion business."
"And what, Rex can't handle it himself?" The girl was practically radiating distrust. Ahsoka clearly felt her friend's attempt to peek at her thoughts, but thanks to Lady Grell, she kept her thoughts, feelings, and emotions under a secure lock.
"The 501st is under my command now," Ahsoka replied as indifferently as possible. This appointment had been a surprise to her. It happened just before departure. She... commands a legion previously disposed of by her former teacher, Anakin... It's hard to believe. But Rex and the other veteran boys from the legion had received the news with joy. Like most of the newcomers in the Tenth Systems Army, they felt uncomfortable—the veterans of this army looked at the replacements with a certain degree of skepticism. Therefore, as soon as the Togruta found out about it... in short, she wanted to fly with them on the same landing ship. But Dougan forbade it, saying he needed her on the Telos.
He didn't specify why, though.
However, replaying his words on Yavin concerning Olee in her mind, the Togruta compared them with the stream of consciousness dumped on her by the girl herself. And she seemed to understand the reason why Dougan teased his apprentice, evading her stream of passion...
An amusing guess. However, the Force told her that the Togruta was reasoning entirely without error. And if so...
As Khem Val said—use any potential to achieve your own ambitions... Hm, an interesting business. Well, Emperor. It's time to at least partially compensate her for her exile from the Order.
"Well, the teacher also assigned me a legion, the 313th, Marshal Kaymaker commands them," Olee recalled. "But I'm not rushing to line them up at attention, interrupting a conversation with a friend..."
"You should try it," Ahsoka cut her off, turning toward the exit. "You have to take the bantha by the horns exactly when it doesn't expect it."
***
Padmé Amidala thoughtfully stirred the spoon in her cup of caf.
"Palpatine is seizing more and more power," Bail Organa broke the lingering silence. "It is... outrageous."
The senator from Alderaan's voice sounded tired. And what kind of enthusiasm can one speak of after a ten-hour session in the depths of the Galactic Senate? Especially when, based on its results, the coalition opposing the Chancellor's party of like-minded individuals had lost. By a landslide.
"To our great regret," Mon Mothma joined the discussion, "our colleagues are increasingly satisfied with a situation where responsibility falls from their shoulders onto the head of the Supreme Chancellor. Or—the Jedi."
"Whose popularity with the public is falling more and more," Bail reminded them. "Especially after negative reports from the front. Jabiim, Mimban, Argonar... We are taking huge losses—in clones, in military equipment, starships. And the impression is created that only those officers and Jedi popularized by the media with the support of Palpatine's cabinet can achieve anything."
"You're talking about that hussy," Mon Mothma furrowed her brow, trying to recall the reporter's name. "Eline Tyrell, I believe."
"Yes," Bail nodded. "Her report on Baron Kirwan's actions... Six dead Jedi in less than forty-eight hours... That would make anyone doubt the competence of the Jedi."
"Not all of them," Mon snorted. "About Grand Moff Dougan, it seems she was capable of talking for hours. And comparing him time and again with other commanders of systems armies. Dougan took back that world. His troops defeated the Separatists there, successfully negotiated with the Twi'leks..."
"But after all, in yesterday's late-night news broadcast, there wasn't a single word of a lie," Padmé noted. "He really is... effective."
"Only Tyrell doesn't forget to mention Palpatine in connection with this Jedi at every convenient opportunity," Padmé said. "And such details, as if she herself is present at their meetings."
"That bothered me too," Mothma agreed. "And she covered their joint trip to the Opera, after which Dougan saved the Chancellor's life. And the transfer of two more systems armies under his command..."
"That's what's strange," Bail frowned. "I know Masters Unduli and Gallia. It's not their fault their predecessors couldn't achieve great success in their field. And criticizing both of them, barely arrived at their deployment site... that's low, even for the scandal-known Tyrell."
"Her show has long been labeled 'pro-government'," Padmé grimaced as if she had eaten something sour. "So I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out she's being fed information directly from Palpatine's office."
"Perhaps that is the case," Mon shrugged. "Because only he benefited from the public finding out that the 'Strengthening and Consolidation of Security Measures Act' didn't pass its first reading precisely because of our efforts."
"This law is immoral," Organa said sharply. "These powers cannot be transferred from the Senate to the Chancellor. These are the rights of our citizens—to private life, fair trial, and investigation..."
"You needn't bother," Mon Mothma made a gesture. "I heard that from you in the Senate the first time. And I'm not so old that I don't remember your fiery speech..."
"As a result of which I was labeled a traitor," Organa smirked grimly. Padmé cast a puzzled look at him. A grim shadow crossed Bail's face. Yes, those words from Ask Aak, the senator from Malastare, had hit the Alderaanian's pride hard.
"Senator Organa," Riyo Chuchi addressed him. "I am very sorry that this time your speech could not convince the senators that this law should not be passed."
"Like many others," Padmé added gloomily.
Those gathered—with the exception of their younger colleague Chuchi—perfectly understood what was being said.
Palpatine's seizure of power—the greatest danger of all that the senators imagined—had begun shortly before the Clone Wars.
Three years before the Separatist crisis, the first amendment to the Galactic Constitution was adopted. It allowed Palpatine to extend his powers indefinitely. In addition, it was now the Chancellor who decided when he would leave his post by calling new elections for his position. The initiators of this bill motivated their actions by saying that only Palpatine, with his inherent diplomacy, charisma, and masterful political instinct, could resolve the brewing crisis, which eventually erupted into full-scale military actions.
And as soon as the sounds of battle on Geonosis faded, Palpatine went on his offensive. Dozens of decrees and circulars came out of his office at such speed that in the ranks of the opposition, the assumption was seriously discussed that all this paperwork had been prepared much earlier than it was actually needed.
Back then, it only caused jokes and thoughts that Palpatine, with his inherent foresight, had anticipated the war and worked ahead of the curve.
The introduction of martial law on Republic territory also didn't raise any questions at first. Despite calls to negotiate with opponents, even supporters of Amidala and Organa understood that mobilization was simply necessary. As sad as it was to admit, it is practically impossible to conduct negotiations with an opponent who has huge armed forces and the desire to prove their point by force of arms. Because both sides of the conflict are convinced they are right.
And then... everything went downhill.
Laws passed by the Senate, endless amendments... All this centralized power in the hands of the Chancellor, each time devaluing the usefulness of those thousands of senators who championed the interests of their peoples.
The first alarm bell on the path of assumptions about the Chancellor's usurpation of power was the "Strengthening and Consolidation of Security Measures Act" project, which delegated to police services and security forces the authority to conduct force operations based on suspicion alone, without the proper procedure for gathering evidence and obtaining a judicial warrant for such actions. In addition to this, the introduction of spy droids into the daily lives of citizens—allegedly to identify criminal and terrorist elements. At the first consideration of this law, its initiators—supporters of the Chancellor—explained to their colleagues with smiles that the fundamental rights of citizens would not be limited—even though the law stated the opposite in the simplest words. It took huge efforts from the opposition to appeal to the reason of other senators, and the law was sent back for revision.
And following it... came another. Even more alarming.
The Sector Governance Decree. An initiative that had long hung in the air, but no one expected it to actually be embodied in concrete proposals.
The creation of sectoral armies, the introduction of the positions of Moffs, on whose shoulders fell, for the most part, the resolution of military issues. True, the original document proposed awarding Moffs full power within their zone of responsibility—including the right to dictate political will to planetary governments. Praise the Force that the latter was mitigated to a more loyal form, leaving Moffs only the right to conduct direct negotiations with planets to discuss certain issues. In the end, decisions were to remain with local governments, in close consultation with the Moffs.
And, although this significantly heated up the public—especially after two Moffs were found guilty of corruption and much more terrible deeds. The appointment of a renowned Jedi to the place of one of them was received with relief even in the Senate.
An amendment to this decree relieved the Moffs of their positions—Palpatine went for this to appease those segments of the public that were literally chanting slogans about Palpatine's inability to effectively manage his own people. Instead, the Chancellor removed the former Moffs from their posts, simultaneously introducing such an element of his own power as the institute of Grand Moffs, tasking them with commanding the enlarged territories.
And, as if in mockery of all the oppositionists, most of the commanders of such armies turned out to be Jedi—members of the High Council of the Order. Who, by the same bill, were integrated into the structure of the Grand Army of the Republic and command positions were officially assigned to them. Thus, Palpatine gained almost actual control over the Order, even gaining a nominal right, enshrined in the Galactic Constitution, to dissolve the Order. A measure necessary from the side of senators loyal to Palpatine, who were "hedging their bets" against the extremely low but still probable possibility of the Jedi going out of control—against the background of the fact that some of them did not shy away from defecting to the enemy.
The next step was the so-called "Reflex Amendment," officially known as Emergency Amendment 121b. It gave Supreme Chancellor Palpatine unlimited power in the disposal of military property of troop and naval units in so-called "adjacent areas." This referred to legal collisions where planetary governments subordinated self-defense forces to themselves. From now on, all of them passed into the absolute subordination of the commanders of systems armies—Jedi and Grand Moffs, who were appointed to their posts with the support of Palpatine himself. And consequently—the Chancellor effectively subordinated the entire military machine of the Republic to himself.
The supporters of the bill didn't realize that along with the transfer of responsibility for the protection of planets and sectors to Coruscant, they effectively remained without their own means of protection. Now not a single warship could go anywhere at the will of the government of some planet, and their soldiers could be transferred to a theater of operations located on the other side of the galaxy.
The term "Reflex Amendment" entered the senators' vocabulary with the support of its proponents, who believed that this additional empowerment of the Supreme Chancellor would allow the Grand Army to react much more effectively to Separatist actions. Senator Ask Aak, speaking in support of this law, noted that the Separatists had had an advantage for too long due to the Republic's sluggish reaction, and that its army would no longer be managed by bureaucrats fattened in the bins of the Trade Federation and other traitors.
It seemed the opposition could only object to this, but... A broadcast by a Zeltron journalist covering victorious actions on the Far Rim finally broke all resistance.
And now, as if on order, the Senate had again raised the "Strengthening and Consolidation of Security Measures Act" for discussion. And if before this initiative had no significant justification, now... After the death of former Chancellor Valorum, blown up on board his own ship, the destruction of terrorist cells by clone forces from the Special Operations Bureau in Coruscant's Factory District, the seizure of Mandalore by criminal syndicates...
Outright panic among the senators of the Core and Mid Rim worlds reached its peak. Everyone without exception was satisfied with the fact that the war had moved to the Outer Rim. And no one wanted Separatist spies and saboteurs operating in the Grand Army's rear.
The policy of tough measures against pirates, privateers, and other filth that had raised its head with the start of the war, written into this law, only caused a wave of jubilation among the senators. No trials, no long investigations. Criminals caught at the scene were ordered to be executed immediately by Republic forces, and their property—transferred to the budget.
"We must resolutely speak out against such centralization of power in Palpatine's hands," Padmé stated. "We cannot allow the usurpation of power..."
"And what can we do?" Bail smirked sadly. "Whichever way you look at it—everything the Chancellor does leads only to success on the military front."
"We should enlist the support of the Jedi," Mon Mothma suggested.
"The very same ones who receive their salary from Palpatine's pocket?" Bail clarified. "And became famous thanks to the war? Perhaps Master Dougan will say he doesn't like commanding as many as three systems armies? Or Kenobi, Windu, Koon? Grand Moff Trachta or Grant?"
"Grand Moff Dougan is a sensible man," the Pantoran said cautiously. "Perhaps if we talk to him, he..."
"Go and tell him he should criticize the man who set his salary at five million credits a month?" the Alderaanian grimaced. "The Jedi, of course, are on their own wavelength, but Dougan is definitely not the man we should turn to for help."
"But why?" Riyo blinked. "He has done a lot for my world. Protected us from CIS attacks, built a powerful defense system, gave jobs to almost a fifth of my citizens..."
"Unlike you, Chuchi," Mon said coldly, "we inquired into what Dougan is actually doing in his post. Along with Unduli and Gallia, he is returning clones to service who were discharged due to disability, instead of purchasing new, genetically improved clones whose effectiveness is much higher than previous models, conducting mass purchases of new ships and gear for his soldiers. Haven't you heard the latest news?"
"I'm afraid not," Padmé shook her head. No time for that. She had her own personal life to figure out...
"Christophsis has placed another order for ships for the Tenth Systems Army," the senator from Chandrila recounted. "More than a thousand Hammerheads."
"And this at a time when rumors are circulating about Rendili being ready to join the CIS?" Bail clarified. Receiving an affirmative answer, he leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "I'm starting to dislike all of this. One god-forsaken system is literally arming an entire army..."
"That's not all," Mon Mothma said.
"Worse news?" Padmé wondered.
"Much," Mon chuckled. "After the Predators were put into operation, Elder Aisel exerted himself again. And the new Hammerheads, among other things, will now be up-armed with four quad super-heavy turbolaser mounts. The very ones that make up the main battery of the Predators. To say nothing of the fact that their armament in principle has undergone a change and will now consist of as many as twelve twin turbolaser turrets mounted on the 'hammer.' Let me remind you that previously there were only three turreted and one gun mount."
"This is madness..."
"Exactly," Mon agreed grimly.
"Where did you get such information?" Chuchi wondered.
"My dear," Mon sighed. "Be a senator as long as I have, and you will also have... friends in various circles of power."
"We cannot allow the blueprints for the new gun mounts to be transferred to Rendili," Bail stated. "If we imagine for a minute that the planet, or maybe the company, defects to the CIS... we will lose the initiative again. With the capacities and capitals of the Separatists, they will surely find a way to apply such weapons for their own purposes."
"We must take the initiative in this matter ourselves," Mon stated.
"How?" Padmé wondered.
"Our opposition is rapidly losing its position," Bail explained. "If this continues, we won't even be able to squeak in the Senate against Palpatine. Because all the trumps are on his side. We need serious assets in our pocket to enlist the support of those senators who, for example, abstained from the last vote. And, say, negotiations with the government of Rendili that would convince them to stay in the Republic—that's a serious argument that would add weight to us."
"However, that won't stop the escalation of the conflict," Chuchi noted.
"As won't the construction of new ships and the transfer of blueprints to Rendili Star Drive," Mon supported.
"If we convince Rendili to remain loyal to the Republic, it might not be necessary," Padmé concluded. "The ships are for the protection of the state..."
"Padmé," Bail grimaced, "don't be so naive. Something is clearly happening here. Elder Aisel simply ignores all our invitations to meetings, and he casts his vote for this or that bill very reluctantly, remaining mostly a neutral observer."
"As does Senator Suepee," Chuchi reminded them. "She hasn't supported a single one of the Chancellor's initiatives. But she remains deaf to our arguments too."
"Why would the Christophsians want to strengthen their ships?" Bail asked. And without waiting for an answer, he continued: "They buy starships. On which, for the most part, their own citizens serve. They train mercenaries. Purchase space stations, docks. And use Hutt companies to transport all of this. Even now, Christophsis is protected no less than Coruscant itself. Dozens of ships in the system, Golan battle stations, repair stations. I heard that on their only moon, they are generally building something like a naval base for the fleet. With supplies of fuel, ammunition, repair parts for hundreds of ships. For what purpose?"
"To help the Republic," Chuchi said confidently.
"Really? And then why are their ships being modernized so they can compete with our starships?"
"Bail," Padmé frowned, "I think you're overstepping. I personally know Dougan, and he champions the Republic's cause. His data on Kuat's military equipment alone is worth a lot. And yet, like other Jedi, he could have just kept quiet..."
"I think so too," Riyo said. Padmé only smiled kindly. Was anything else to be expected from the Pantoran?
"Think what you want," Bail ran a hand over his face. "But my political instinct tells me otherwise..."
"You look for betrayal in everyone Palpatine supports," Amidala shook her head. "Personally, I can interpret what I heard completely differently."
"And how?" Mon asked reproachfully.
"Much simpler than hypothetical betrayal," Padmé shrugged. "You say there is some global plan of betrayal on his part. I admit, for some time I was also confused as to why he prefers outdated ships over new ones. I had to sweat to dig through the Senate archives, but... After the Senate disbanded the army and navy a thousand years ago, measures were taken to limit the ownership of a fleet and its production for third-party or unreliable members of the Republic. Thus, shipbuilding companies are prohibited from building and designing modern warships for systems that joined the Republic less than three years ago. Christophsis has barely been in the Senate for a year. Therefore, it is perfectly logical that they, to secure their borders first and foremost, bet on building ships based on outdated designs—even considering the modernizations, the Hammerheads remained more than half what they were built to be millennia ago. And that means Aisel can ignore the restrictions on purchasing 'modern' starships. And supply the army with morally updated ships which, under Dougan's command, are precisely engaged in keeping the Separatists and pirates away from Kristof's economy. I made a compilation of statistics. So, during the time Christophsis has been acquiring ships for Dougan, despite selling its raw materials to the Republic at below-market prices, its income has grown more than a hundredfold. And that's no longer billions—it's quadrillions of credits a year. It's much more profitable for them to spend several billion, but save thousands of times more, than to wait until the order-clogged Kuat shipyards produce the required number of Venators with which Dougan could secure their planet. Well, for him it's profitable from a purely economic point of view—he doesn't spend billions on purchasing starships, putting them into purchasing clones to replace those killed. And for this reason, he returns disabled clones to service and refuses to purchase new, Arkanian-produced soldiers. He simply uses the resources he has to the fullest. Are there clones who are combat-ready but subject to discharge? So why should the Republic spend money on maintaining these millions of fighters if they can be useful on the battlefields? And at the same time—none of them will need to be paid a pension. And in military service, they don't receive a single credit from the Republic's budget."
"Suppose," Bail threw out coldly, "that is the case. And this Jedi... is thrifty... regarding Republic property."
"Property?" Chuchi flared. "Clones are living sentients. And, by the way, they are fighting for us."
"Tanks and starships fight too," Mothma noted. "Should they be treated as equals too?"
"That's... immoral!" Riyo flared. "They are of flesh and blood..."
"Let's leave the question of these things and their place in the Republic for better times," Padmé found a compromise. "Something else is much more important now."
"To understand—can we trust one of our best generals?" Bail clarified with a chuckle. "Padmé, you can prove all you want that he's white and fluffy, but I'm used to trusting my instincts. And they literally scream every time I read the reports where this sentient's name appears."
"As you wish, Bail," the Nabooan woman tried to keep her voice even. She didn't want to be treated with suspicion too. "But personally, I have no doubt that if we turn to him for support, he will at least listen to us and won't immediately run to report to Palpatine or the Council. However, after Yoda was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the GAR..."
"They all breathe the same air," Organa said with disgust. "Though I respect most of them. But, I think it's better to tell someone more experienced among the Jedi about our fears. Kenobi, for example."
"I agree, perhaps," Mon Mothma nodded. "He hasn't been on the Council long, a true patriot of the Republic, and his wisdom... legends are told about it. Which can't be said about his protege—Skywalker, who, by the way, is also being glorified on the HoloNet with Palpatine's support. By the way," she squinted. "Padmé, you seemed to be friends with both of them..."
"I wouldn't call it friendship," images of their wedding ceremony on Naboo stood clearly in her memory. "But there are good relations."
"So maybe we should talk to Kenobi and Skywalker about their support for our movement?" Organa became animated. "I know both of them, and I believe they, in fact, deserve trust. Kenobi is a full Jedi Master, Skywalker... in the end—he is his teacher's apprentice. And always on the side of justice."
"And despotism," Padmé added to herself, recalling that very conversation. "But it's effective," Anakin had told her then.
"And why don't we turn to Grand Master Yoda for support then?" Chuchi frowned. "He is the leader of the Order, and his word is much more weighty..."
"And he is also the Commander-in-Chief of the army," Bail reminded her. "And if it comes to the need to openly censure the Chancellor's actions, he could simply dissolve the Jedi Order—exactly because Yoda, with his words, could symbolize the opinion of all his subordinates. And then... it's even scary to imagine what would happen in the army, where a Jedi is in every more or less serious position. No. We need to negotiate with Kenobi. At worst, with Windu. Though he's stubborn and overly direct, he's a man of his word..."
Negotiating with the Jedi about opposing the Chancellor... If anyone had told her this five years ago...
"There is no logic in this," Padmé said. Noticing the focused gazes on her, she explained. "Even with strong support on our side, our efforts might not be enough to stop the seizure of power..."
"I think you have a suggestion, don't you, Padmé?" Organa smirked.
"Yes, I do," the former Queen of Naboo didn't even flinch. "Palpatine will not have the opportunity to continue concentrating power if both warring sides agree."
"Wait, you're not talking about...," Riyo, catching herself, covered her mouth with her hands.
"Exactly so," Padmé nodded. "We need to meet and discuss the situation with representatives of the Separatist Congress."
"It's unlikely any of them will want to come to Coruscant," Bail noted. "They would simply be arrested here..."
"Therefore," Padmé breathed out, "such a meeting should be held on their territory. I have a contact among the CIS politicians, and I think she won't refuse..."
"Are you out of your mind!" Organa and Mothma gasped in one voice. "Not a single sensible clone or Jedi will support your undertaking. Flying into the Separatists' rear, and alone... No, Padmé, that could be deadly dangerous!"
Why "alone" right away. Thinking it over, Padmé concluded that she knew someone who would ensure her safety in such a situation.
Well, too bad she couldn't find support from Mothma and Organa on such a delicate issue. Well, while there is even the slightest opportunity to agree, to resolve the conflict before it has gained momentum that could threaten the existence of the Republic itself...
"Yes," Padmé said, trying not to show her true emotions. "It could be deadly dangerous..."
***
Staring into the murky yellow atmosphere of Taloraan, Anakin felt irritation growing within him.
Even though he saw a gas giant before him, and its landscapes were in no way connected to sand or Tatooine, he couldn't help himself. It seemed he didn't hate sand, but the very color gamut associated with that substance.
Or else, the reason for his irritation lay in Emissary Govlinder sitting across the table, who had recently replaced his predecessor as the ruler of Taloraan. Rumor had it that the CIS had a hand in this—at least Republic intelligence was certain that Count Dooku had sent his representatives here. And the wrecks of three Munificent-class frigates in the planet's orbit confirmed this assertion.
"Is that your final word, Emissary?" Anakin asked, barely containing his irritation.
"Alas, it is so, General Skywalker," the man spread his hands. "Taloraan will remain a neutral party in this conflict."
"You don't understand the threat hanging over the galaxy," Aubrie began heatedly. "The Confederacy threatens all free worlds..."
"And the Republic doesn't?" Govlinder blinked. "You arrived for peace negotiations at the head of an entire fleet. Four Venator-class star destroyers. Doesn't it seem to you... a bit much to deliver a couple of Jedi to a lonely gas giant?"
"We were informed that there was a CIS squadron here," Anakin said. "And given our experience in communicating with them, it was fair to assume these were forces of invasion and oppression..."
"No need to worry so much," a Twi'lek who had been silent until now joined the conversation, whom Anakin had initially taken for the emissary's secretary. "Taloraan can be calm about its safety."
Giving the girl a sharp look, the young Jedi felt the fingers on his right, artificial hand clench into a fist.
Why was it necessary to pull him, a renowned general, from the front, a place where he was needed most, if any mossy Jedi from the Balance Corps would have sufficed here? Even a Padawan would have been too much on this gas giant.
And yet, Taloraan was a choice morsel for each side of the conflict. A massive gas giant whose atmosphere was permeated with gas mixtures, it primarily interested the warring sides because of the massive content of Tibanna in its atmosphere—not that it was a rare, but an infinitely valuable gas used in modern blaster weapons. And star destroyer turbolasers, as well.
The galaxy had several suppliers of Tibanna. First among them was Bespin—a remote gas giant in the Anoat sector. A beautiful place, famous for its inexhaustible supplies of various gases. With the start of the war, thousands of children left without parental care found refuge here. However, by the end of the first year of the war, the Republic was on the verge of a Tibanna crisis, because Bespin, its main exporter, was in the hands of the Confederacy, deep within Separatist-occupied territories. And, unfortunately, the High Command of the Grand Army of the Republic had no desire to take the planet back.
Instead, the command looked for other sources of supply, of which there were only a few in the galaxy.
First of all, Taloraan—the main, and essentially—the only independent exporter of Tibanna. They sold it to everyone, but by no means at the lowest prices.
Besides it, there were other planets in the galaxy with similar export items: Genarius, Kril'Dor, Rendili, Kaer, Ord Ibanna, and Jorn-Skot, gas giants in the Melida/Daan system. Since the start of the conflict, the Republic had maintained control over Kril'Dor, Rendili, and Ord Ibanna, despite the fact that on the latter planet, all the infrastructure for extracting the valuable element was in decline and had long since become useless. And the volumes that were exported were not enough even to supply a single large fleet. Dougan's seizure of the Separatist factories on Melida/Daan significantly simplified the supply of this most valuable resource to the southern systems armies, freeing up large volumes for other units of the Grand Army. Но... given the upcoming entry into service of the new Predator-class capital ships, it would be logical to concern oneself with increasing Tibanna volumes as well.
The CIS was much better off with suppliers. Genarius, Kaer, and Jorn-Skot gave them inexhaustible supplies of Tibanna, but, as Isard's department reported, Count Dooku was resolutely intended to expand his circle of suppliers. Given how quickly the army and fleet of clankers were increasing their ranks, this was not surprising. Moreover, should they try to capture Taloraan—and the Republic would have no chance of gaining access to this source of raw materials—the planet was located in the Expansion Region, far from established hyperspace routes and Republic territories. Almost in the Unknown Regions.
And anything could happen here.
The Council had sent Anakin here at the head of a task force to begin negotiations with Master Orlin Denasha about the planet joining the Republic and starting centralized gas supplies. However, everything went wrong from the very beginning.
Not only was Master Denasha already out of power, but it turned out that the CIS ships had gotten here first. The only question was how they ended up destroyed.
"Are you talking about your own defense forces?" he clarified with the Twi'lek. Judging by the emotional background emanating from her, she felt like the mistress of the house here. Strange behavior for someone who has no connection to the Taloraan government.
"We prefer not to disclose who stands behind us," the emissary said diplomatically. "It is enough for you to know that the planet, as well as its gas-producing industry, are safe. And if the Republic has a desire to purchase Tibanna from us, we will not refuse. Though..."
"What is it?" Skywalker tensed. He caught some nervousness in the emissary's behavior through the Force. And that could mean anything. Except for a direct confrontation—the Jedi felt no danger to himself.
"In light of recent events," Govlinder chewed his lips, simultaneously folding his hands before him. "Taloraan is forced to raise export prices tenfold."
"But that's robbery!" Aubrie flared with distinct anger in the Force. "Tibanna cost a lot even before this, and now..."
"Respected Jedi," the Twi'lek said coldly. "Perhaps you could somehow settle your Padawan. These are negotiations, after all, not a request concert."
"Aubrie is young," Anakin noted. "However, her reaction... basically, I have the same one. I just decided to keep it to myself."
"Commendable patience," the Twi'lek smirked. "So, I think the negotiations have come to their logical conclusion."
"I think so," Anakin felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I will report your proposal to the Chancellor and the Jedi Council. However... five hundred credits for one unit of Tibanna volume... Even the Hutts don't sell that high."
And this was considering that one soldier was allocated five units of Tibanna per month according to the table of organization and equipment, and a Venator-class cruiser consumed more than ten thousand of them in one battle.
"In that case, perhaps you should turn to the Hutts for supplies?" the Twi'lek smirked.
"Maybe so," Anakin spread his hands. "In the end, they are our allies."
"Then there's no need to make a scene here," the Twi'lek concluded. "With that, I think, Emissary, the discussion of the issue of supplies for the Republic is over?"
"Certainly, Lady Vette," the man nodded. "Glad to have met you."
"As were we," although in the young Jedi's soul there were completely different words and thoughts. "So I take it you're not even going to discuss the issue of Taloraan joining the Republic?"
"Jedi insight always amazes me," Govlinder smiled. "Such a proposal is not profitable for us."
"Can I assure the Republic leadership that your planet will not join the CIS, and we won't have to return here at the head of an even larger task force of destroyers?"
"Who to join," the emissary noted grimly, glancing briefly at the Twi'lek, "is a matter for the Taloraan government. But, let me assure you, we have nothing in common with the Separatists. Not even export contracts."
"And where does the Tibanna you extract go in that case?" Aubrie intervened. "We saw caravans of tankers leaving the system. Their volumes are enough to supply half the Republic armada..."
"I'm afraid," the emissary noted coldly, "I am not entitled to discuss Taloraan's commercial contracts. On that note, I think we should end all communication. Good day, Master Jedi."
For the sake of courtesy, and not at all because Anakin sincerely desired it, he bowed slightly to the emissary and, nodding to Aubrie toward the door, strode silently in the same direction.
He couldn't wait to get back to the front. These pointless negotiations had already taken up too much time.
Chapter 15: Bargaining
"Excellent!" Maul roared with laughter as Obi-Wan blocked the Zabrak's torrential onslaught and launched a series of counterstrikes. "Open yourself to the Dark Side, Kenobi! KILL ME! REVENGE! For Satine! For your master!"
With every word, the Zabrak accompanied his speech with lightning-fast thrusts, which Kenobi blocked—though not with ease. However, with each passing second, it was becoming harder and harder to do so.
The Jedi managed to hide it from his opponent, but... the longer the fight lasted, the more grief eroded his seemingly unshakable foundation of faith. Faith in himself, in his own views, in the Order...
It was as if he were once again that youth from many years ago, who had naively fallen in love with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in the Temple. And feelings had taken hold. He had been almost ready to leave the Order, if only...
If only she had asked him. But Siri had condemned Kenobi's intention to leave the Temple and seek ordinary human happiness.
That love had died. One could blame anyone for it—from Master Jinn to Grand Master Yoda—but the fact remained.
Just as the fact remained that the only woman in the entire galaxy who truly loved him was now lying on the permacrete floor of the palace. Dead.
From the very beginning, Kenobi had understood that his entire plan—this unauthorized operation to rescue Satine from Maul's captivity—was a gamble of the highest order. To stand alone against the entire criminal underworld of the galaxy gathered on Mandalore... there were less ambitious forms of suicide.
Yet, something had pushed him toward this folly—abandoning his systems army, rushing to Mandalore on a weathered freighter, breaking into a heavily guarded prison to save Satine...
Only to see with his own eyes how the Mandalorian support squad, brought by Bo-Katan to free her sister, perished to a man. To watch Maul's thugs mercilessly gun down Mandalorian warriors with heavy repeaters and disintegrators. To see the three of them—Kenobi and both sisters—dragged like stubborn banthas into the palace throne room, where his ancient enemy, Darth Maul, murdered Satine.
He had pierced her heart with his blade, burning with rage toward the Jedi, provoking the latter into an emotional breakdown. Hatred, despair...
All of it seized Kenobi, who used the Force to cast off his shackles, reclaimed his traditional weapon, and lunged at the Zabrak.
He failed to land a direct hit. Repeating his success on Naboo... had become practically impossible.
It turned out that over the passing years, it wasn't only the Jedi who had developed his abilities. The Zabrak had not stood still either. His rage was now beyond measure. It boiled around him like a fountain of lava, searing Kenobi every time he tried to break through the impenetrable veil of the Force and crimson blades.
At the cost of incredible effort, he forced Maul to retreat under the fury of his attack. Inside the young Master, two natures fought—the grief of the loss he had suffered and the mantras of the Jedi worldview. And... the realization that this mixture gave him strength sufficient to withstand Maul's pressure made Kenobi uneasy.
Because it contradicted everything he knew, everything he could do, everything he had been taught. But he could not cast this power aside. He had no right to. Only this way could he end this long-drawn-out confrontation. No one but him possessed the right to conclude this Zabrak's life path.
For now, Obi-Wan was trying to correct his mistake of ten years ago. A mistake that had cost his beloved her life. A mistake that had brought misery, misfortune, and death to thousands of families in the Mandalorian sector.
Suddenly, the Zabrak leaped high, spinning and twisting to descend upon Kenobi, flying over his head. The Jedi was prepared, transitioning from offense to defense so smoothly that it looked like a single movement. He parried both blades of Maul's lightsaber, simultaneously diving to the side and rolling effortlessly to a safe distance.
Though... could one say that anywhere in the spacious throne room, cordoned off by a dozen thugs holding him and Bo-Katan at gunpoint, was safe?
The greatest threat was currently right in front of the Jedi. Snarling, it delivered strikes with both blades of the lightstaff. Each one stronger than the last. It seemed as though the Dark Side, the boiling rage within him, and the anticipation of the Jedi's death were giving Maul new strength.
With every strike, Obi-Wan retreated. This was his way. Even as emotions fought his sense of duty within him, the weakness from the beginning of the battle was gradually passing. Kenobi's habitual self-control was returning. And with its help, the Jedi had already found a way out of the situation. He only needed to let Bo-Katan understand what to do and when.
Until then, guided by the Light Side of the Force, relentlessly repeating lines from the Jedi Code, he retreated.
The lightsaber blades flashed like lightning. Red and blue. They collided at frantic speeds, bounced off each other, and rushed back together. Each had only one goal—to strike the opponent in a vulnerable spot. To end the more than decade-long confrontation between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Maul with one short thrust.
Obi-Wan barely managed to parry his opponent's risky moves. Forcing out human emotions alien to every Jedi, he transformed himself more and more into a machine. Not for the purpose of killing Maul. For the purpose of ending the tyranny of crime.
If immediately after Satine's death he had desired to kill the Zabrak, then now... Kenobi did not even consider the thought of capturing the monster. Such a feat would require an army. Now, all his efforts were concentrated on survival.
And escape.
On saving the life of Bo-Katan. The biological sister of the fallen Duchess. The heir to the throne. The only one who could claim the throne on legal grounds.
And for this, Kenobi retreated. Anything to distract Maul, to prevent him from executing the second Kryze.
"Do not make me more disappointed in you, Obi-Wan," Maul hissed through clenched teeth. His voice sounded triumphant; without a doubt, the Sith was confident in his superiority over his old enemy. "You cannot withstand the power of the Dark Side."
"I've heard that before," Kenobi gritted out, "but as you can see, I'm still alive."
"That is easily corrected," the Zabrak smirked, performing a feint as if attacking the Jedi's legs. Seeing such a combination of movements for the first time, the latter reacted mechanically to protect his limbs and realized too late that he had been played like a youngling.
The Force sent him flying across the entire hall, slamming Obi-Wan into the transparysteel wall of the palace with such force that the air was knocked from his lungs. Stunned, the Jedi slid to the floor but stood up a moment later, staggering. Maul stepped over Satine's dead body and charged at him with a roar, raising his saber for the strike.
As always, Kenobi had a trick in reserve—one of those that doesn't work twice...
But it was a very good trick.
Gathering all the Force he possessed at that moment, he released it in a powerful telekinetic burst that, like a sand burrower from Blenjeel, plowed up the floor tiles of the hall, raining them down upon the rapidly approaching Zabrak.
As it turned out, it didn't work particularly well.
Maul surrounded himself with a protective field, causing all the projectiles directed at him to miss their mark. But they did force him to stop.
And Obi-Wan did not intend to give him another chance.
Obi-Wan cast everything aside.
Everything.
Hopes. Fears. Obligations to the Order.
The massive chandeliers in the throne room rained down on Maul's head along with structural elements. Though Kenobi understood this wouldn't harm the Sith, it would at least delay him. Distract him.
Therefore, letting the currents of the Light Side flow through him, he mechanically parried several blaster bolts fired at him by the Zabrak's fighters. Then, seeing a grenadier positioning himself behind Satine's throne, he decapitated the dangerous opponent with a saber throw.
Along with him, he cut down two thugs standing near Bo-Katan. A moment later, he was beside her, freeing her from her bonds.
"We have to go," he said, reflecting an increasing number of shots.
"Really?" she huffed, seizing the weapons of the fallen enemies. "I thought you were going to finish the bastard."
"I will," Kenobi threw back, fully aware that he had just made a promise. One that... he would certainly keep. "But not now. I can't handle him alone. We must run..."
With a nimble burst of fire, Bo-Katan sent several more criminals to the eternal hunting grounds, then hoisted her late sister's body onto her shoulder, blew out a section of the wall with a rocket from her jetpack, and darted toward the resulting opening.
Obi-Wan, realizing what her escape plan was, only smiled. Yes, if Maul's soldiers were any smarter, they would have stripped them of their Mandalorian armor. Kenobi had put on one such suit to get into the prison. And now he truly hoped the jetpack on his back had survived Maul's last stunt without consequence.
"Stay behind me!" Kryze shouted, jumping down. Almost immediately, two jet streams erupted behind her. And though it was hard for the girl, as she was carrying a corpse, her impulse—to take the body with her to protect it from possible desecration—appealed to the Jedi.
Hearing a crash behind him, Kenobi saw out of the corner of his eye that the pile of construction debris Maul was under had begun to shift—the Sith was casting off his shackles using the Force. A sign that it was time to hurry.
Taking a running start, he jumped from the hole in the wall, activating the pack's ignition system mid-air.
It only started on the third attempt, when only a few meters remained to the tiled promenade of the palace park. Silently thanking the Force for the luck, Kenobi surged after the retreating Mandalorian.
"Any ideas on how we get off this planet?" he shouted, pulling level with the red-haired warrior.
"Yes," she answered, also at a high volume. "I have an acquaintance among the local smugglers who brings in weapons for the resistance. For a good price, he'll take us wherever we say."
"Is it worth mentioning I don't have a single credit?" Kenobi asked. Looking back, he saw several dots following them in the air. Traitors from Death Watch who had sided with Maul had taken up the pursuit. Well, their lead was very small.
"If I relied only on you, Kenobi," Bo-Katan shouted irritably, "I'd be barely warmer than Satine."
"I did everything I could," the Jedi tried to justify himself. But he knew himself that this excuse was laughable.
"But less than was necessary," the sister of his late beloved replied. "If we get out of this, Kenobi, I'm going to beat the hell out of you."
"I understand your feelings," he responded. At that moment, the pair began to weave sharply between buildings, seeking to confuse their pursuers with constant course changes. "But the fault isn't mine here..."
"It is!" the Mandalorian growled. "Have you completely lost your mind in that Temple of yours? All of this—the seizure of Mandalore, the murder of Satine—it was all done just to settle scores with you!"
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to object, but, meeting the girl's rage-filled gaze, he faltered. And remained silent.
Because he realized she was right.