Without looking up from studying the information, Darth Savich allowed the uninvited guest to enter his office, located deep within the Imperial Citadel on Zakuul.
Actually, like any member of the Dark Council, he had his own residence. The Dark Council preferred to work at its own pace, of course, while the Emperor was absent. And to be honest, the Dark Council had yet to prove itself as a single mechanism. Its members were mostly unacquainted with each other, carrying out the Emperor's will directly. And it so happened that the affairs of other Dark Council members were far beyond the capital world.
However, the nighttime visitor surprised him… Very, very much.
By the very fact that he was on Zakuul at all.
"Ravage," watching the three-and-a-half-thousand-year-old Imperial advisor plop down uninvited onto the couch opposite his desk, Savich finally deigned to tear his gaze from the datapad screen.
"Savich," the head of the Sphere of Galactic Influence echoed. "Working late as usual?"
"As usual, as observant as a gizka?" the former Jensaarai returned the barb.
The Sith squinted and smiled crookedly.
"Frankly, I thought you'd be kicked off the Council in the first week," he opened up. "No experience, no talent…"
"How curious," the Sith folded his hands before him. "And I keep wondering when the sand will stop falling out of you."
The Empire's chief diplomat began to smile.
"Glad I was wrong about you, Savich," he said. "A former Jedi, and you don't back down from someone stronger than you…"
"About the latter," Savich allowed himself a chuckle. "Are you sure that I — as head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, responsible for the collection, storage, processing, and interpretation of everything related to the Force, controlling the training program for our apprentices and students — am actually afraid of you? Don't flatter yourself, Ravage. You can throw your weight around with anyone — it won't work on me."
"That's good to hear," the Sith said with all seriousness. "I hate working with sycophants."
"Since when have we been working together?" Savich was surprised. "You have your own Sphere of Influence, I have mine. The Emperor made it perfectly clear — everyone is to dig in their own sandbox."
"But not when circumstances demand otherwise," Ravage objected. "Your help is needed for the conclusion of an extremely important treaty between the Empire and potential allies."
Honestly, Ravage with his requests could be sent very far away for a very long time. The principles upon which the entire power system of the Dark Council was founded were simple in their wording. And immutable. Dark Councillors were forbidden from interfering in their colleagues' Spheres. As well as hindering the work of Imperial institutions and enterprises. Cooperation between Spheres was encouraged, but it hadn't happened so far. Everyone preferred to pull the blanket over themselves to demonstrate to the Emperor in the future how much they had achieved on their own, without the support of their Council colleagues. "Cooperation is a boring pastime for fools. A true Sith must solve all problems himself. Or with the help of his servants." That, it seems, was what Darth Ravage said during his previous period of ascension in the Dark Council of the Sith Empire. Of course, if the Imperial Archives are not lying.
Yes, those were fun times in Darth Ravage's youth. The right of the strong, feuds, war with the Republic… But? You could have fun and merrily conspire against each other. Without detriment to the main activity.
The Emperor, during his visit to Zakuul, made it clear: if one member of the Dark Council messes up, they will all perish.
Savich snorted venomously:
"Oh, yes, now Darth Ravage is so civilized that he came to ask for help?" he inquired.
The second member of the Dark Council smiled, turning his colleague's remark into a joke. Then the face of the head of the Sphere of Galactic Influence became a mask again.
"Still — I need access to the archives of your Sphere."
Each member of the Dark Council had their own Archive, partially based on records of the ancient Sith Empire or intelligence-gathered information. And despite their high position, no one except the head of that Sphere had full access to it.
"What kind of information?" Savich clarified. They could bicker with each other to get on each other's nerves for a long time. But the key point — interaction between Spheres for achieving a result for the benefit of the Empire — had to be observed. If Ravage were asking for himself, he'd get nothing. But for the Empire…
"The Gree Hypergates on Tython," the other replied.
"Oh, really," Savich couldn't hide his surprise.
The Hypergate is a system of nearly instantaneous interstellar travel, developed by the Gree race in the distant past. The operating principles of these devices are unknown. According to some sources, the activation of the Hypergate used dark matter.
In their time, colonizing the galaxy, the Gree built more than one such device on various planets. In most cases, moving within the Hypergate network required both a departure gate and a 'receiver.'
However, there existed so-called Great Hypergates, which didn't need such formalities and could deliver what was needed to any planet, even one not equipped with a 'receiver' gate. However… It was impossible to confirm or refute these theories — the only known and working Great Hypergates were located in the Gree Enclave. And the latter were not keen on letting anyone study their technologies.
The Sith Empire began to take a close interest in the Hypergates during the Second Galactic War — when the Gree turned to the Empire and the Republic for help in destroying a monster that had arrived through an open Hypergate on the planet Asation. The prospects of obtaining such technology were staggering. No need to send hundreds of ships across half the galaxy to deliver raw materials to processing plants; reinforcements could be sent to planets at any moment. There were rumors that Hypergates even existed through which entire starships could travel. But no one had ever seen them.
One way or another, such technology could significantly change the balance of power in the galaxy. It was no wonder that back during his training on Tython among the first students of the Order of Imperial Knights, helping restore the temples of the ancient Je'daii, he became interested in rumors that on Tython, in the ruins of the so-called Old City — a complex of buildings of unknown origin, supposedly built by the Gree themselves during their stay on this planet in antiquity — there were Hypergates. The ancient Je'daii were reluctant to explore the ruins, filled with traps and bloodthirsty creatures. However, at some point, a group of radical-minded sentients who dreamed of escaping the Tython system decided to activate the Hypergate, although they didn't know for sure whether the Gree structure they found was actually that portal. The Je'daii, fearing that a device running on dark energy would destroy the planet and the entire star system upon activation, dismantled the radicals, and the installation was forgotten.
He learned all this during his years in the Jedi Order. Working in the Archive, he gained access to much knowledge… But even more remained hidden from him. That's why he joined those who left the Order at the start of the war. Mastering the knowledge of the Dark Side along with the others who called themselves Jensaarai, he didn't give up trying to learn even more. But with each passing day, he realized that even their leader didn't know as much as he would have liked. The appearance of Lady Atroxa, who demonstrated an unprecedented level of Force mastery, captivated him — and many others. That's why he agreed without hesitation to the proposal to join the Empire. And he set off for Tython — the ancient homeland of the Je'daii, ancestors of the modern Jedi. A world shrouded in mystery. And holding millions of secrets he dreamed of uncovering.
The knowledge that Savich managed to glean during his training in the Fount of Rajivari — the repository of the ancient Je'daii's knowledge, which contained information on Dark and Light Side techniques, and the teaching principles… were, to put it mildly, much more complete, substantial, and powerful than everything he had managed to learn during his time in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. And he clearly saw in his Jensaarai comrades that they were equally amazed by the volume of knowledge about the Force that Lady Zavros — the head of the Academy — had opened for them. It was no wonder that in just a year and a half of the Academy's operation, no less than a hundred talented individuals had graduated from its walls, not only accepting the concept of the Unified Force but also able to apply their arsenal with equal benefit.
The thirst for ancient knowledge consumed the young Jensaarai. He stayed after classes in the Fount, nourishing his body with the Force in pursuit of more and more knowledge. And he couldn't curb his information hunger. Like a sponge absorbing water, he absorbed knowledge, legends, listened to the stories of masters from holocrons and infocubes, studied the archives available to students…
And one day he made his decision.
Late at night, armed with blasters and a lightsaber he had constructed himself (a gross violation of the rules, as students were supposed to create their traditional weapon only upon completing their training), he carefully avoided the patrols of 'Skywalker' droids and made his way into the ruins of the Old City.
The memories of days of endless battles with creatures in the ruins' dungeons echoed painfully in his wounds. Savich almost reached for his face mask, which, like his armor, he had started wearing after his appearance was disfigured by blood sores — the very creatures that didn't mind feasting on the warm blood of the gifted.
But, in the end, he achieved his goal. He found the Hypergate. And dozens of other Gree technologies left by the former inhabitants of the Old City in the dungeons. He spent many days studying the artifacts of the past, meticulously documenting and describing each one.
And only after he had compiled an accurate map of the dungeons and categorized all his finds did the Jensaarai set out on the return journey.
To the Academy…
To put it mildly, he had hoped to be welcomed as a hero who had uncovered secrets over twenty thousand years old. But instead, he was isolated and kept separate from all the other pupils and students. And then — sent to Zakuul. Why, he learned much later.
When he met the Emperor.
When he told him about his desire to learn the ancient secrets. About his wish to share them with future members of the Order of Imperial Knights. And about much more…
Had he expected the leader of the Empire to make him one of his guards — like most of those who had arrived with Savich on Zakuul? Yes, that would have been the most logical decision from the ruler. The Guard is the support and shield of the Eternal Throne. They are beings to whom the Emperor could entrust all his secrets. Send them to any part of the galaxy to acquire new knowledge, find recruits, or retrieve the long-lost heritage of the Sith and Jedi.
But instead, he became a member of the Dark Council. The Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. Solely responsible for ensuring that what was lost was found and became the property of the Empire. And no one else.
The Emperor had given him even more than he had wished for. More than the Jedi Order and the teachings of the Jensaarai combined. The Emperor had made his dream a reality.
And now, Darth Savich was one of the most powerful and educated beings in the Empire. And his work never let up for a moment. For the good of the Empire.
And the Emperor.
More than once, Savich had marveled that Dougan knew far more about the galaxy than even the Masters of the Jedi Order's High Council. He knew about the Hypergates, which Savich's underlings were now studying with immense care and painstaking thoroughness.
He told Savich about the Star Temples of the Kwa race, whose ruins had been discovered on Dathomir during the recruitment of that world's population into the Empire's service. He told him about the Kwa race, who built these Temples to protect the Infinity Gate technology — a device that performed all the same functions as the Gree Hypergates. But besides the transport system, the Gates could also release an Infinity Wave — a destructive energy of the Force that could, in an instant, wipe worlds, armies, and armadas from the face of the galaxy… A Doomsday Weapon that the Emperor wished to possess. To meet the uninvited guests called the Yuuzhan Vong.
Unfortunately, unlike the Gree, the Kwa had degenerated into the semi-sentient kwi species inhabiting Dathomir. And they could not help restore the Star Temple on Dathomir.
Once, on Tython, there had also existed an Infinity Gate — the Kwa had reached there in their time. But that device, known as the Great (or Main — depending on the accuracy of translation from the Kwa language), was destroyed as a result of the conflict between the ancient Je'daii and the Rakata. And that was a colossal loss, since the gate on Tython could have delivered anything to any point in the galaxy.
However, there was another set of Main Gates — on an unknown moon near a black hole. The coordinates of that celestial body were not known to Savich, but… the Emperor had promised that soon the Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge would have a clever Chiss apprentice, who had visited that moon with a group of xenoarcheologists. And had even managed to activate the Main Gate.
Figuring out the identity of this traveler wasn't particularly difficult. Nuru Kungurama. A Padawan of the Jedi Order. And he was now fully at the Emperor's disposal.
As for the xenoarcheologists who had studied the Star Temples… How much did it take to interest a couple of scientists obsessed with continuing their research? A kind word and good funding. Savich had provided all of that.
"What's your interest, Ravage?" he inquired.
"The Gree Enclave is ready to integrate into the Empire if we can provide them with valuable samples of their technology. The Hypergates and the exploration ship Gray Secant are on that list."
"Curious," pronounced the Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. He knew quite a lot about the Gray Secant as well. An automated scout ship, exploring the universe for the last hundred thousand years or so. The pinnacle of Gree technological development in many aspects. "Do you intend to reveal to the Gree the fact that we've been studying the Hypergate on Tython for six months already?"
"For now, I'm talking to you," Ravage noted. "Before waving in front of the Gree's noses what they haven't been able to reproduce or even repair themselves for a long time, it's worth understanding — can we ourselves master Hypergate technology? And whether far greater prospects might open up for us if we refuse the Gree's offer."
"A difficult question," Savich admitted. "The Hypergate isn't like a hyperdrive, which is already known and understood. There are billions of different systems there. Turning it on isn't much trouble — but the consequences are unknown. The Gree's technology is alien to us. And it will take years before we even understand whether this technology works, or whether powering it up will give us a giant black hole instead of Tython."
"You're quite the optimist," the Head of the Sphere of Galactic Influence snorted. "Haven't you tried finding more competent servants to work with the Hypergates?"
"The best of those who can be brought to our side are working for me," Savich retorted.
"Is that so?" Ravage was surprised. "And I heard that almost five thousand Sith from Kesh still haven't been allowed by you to train on Tython. Many of my Sith brothers and fallen Jedi who were in stasis on Belsavis are also ready to act for the good of the Empire. And more than half of them are excellent fighters, capable of opposing Jedi — if not on equal terms, then certainly no worse than most of your comrades-in-arms. And you're slowing down the process of replenishing the Imperial Knights' ranks. This despite the fact that they have already expressed their loyalty to the Empire and the Emperor."
"It's strange that a diplomat cares about warriors," Savich said with mockery. "I thought those words should come from the mouth of another member of the Dark Council."
"I'm interested in increasing the Empire's power," Ravage clarified. "It won't be easy to convince other worlds and the Force-sensitive to join us if the loyalty screening procedures drag on for months. Or have you decided to favor the Jedi as a sign of loyalty to your former beliefs?"
"Don't forget that I am responsible for integrating those Force-sensitive who have joined the Empire into the Order," Savich reminded him with a hint of threat. "The Emperor trusts my judgment, and since that's the case, it's not for you to reproach me for anything. No one will be granted access to the Academy's knowledge until my people are certain of their loyalty. Or have the stories of the Great Schisms among the Jedi, the chronicles of the fall of the Brotherhood of Darkness, taught you nothing?"
"I know history no worse than you," Ravage remarked. "I don't intend to teach you your job. But I need subordinates! For the entire diplomatic corps, I have no more than a dozen beings. It's ridiculous — ISB agents acting as diplomats! I can vouch for several hundred Sith from Belsavis who will pass all your checks and strengthen the Empire."
"Let me guess," Savich leaned forward. "Are they all True Sith? Like the mentor As'tent?"
"Not all," Ravage countered. "But you're right, many of them are. And what do you have against As'tent?"
"He's a defector," Savich reminded him. "I don't understand why you decided to push his candidacy back then. By all Sith customs, you should have been the first to slit his belly."
"Times have changed," Ravage said. "In the days of the Sith Empire, that would have been so. But now… Zakuul needs more Force-sensitives. And we have such a reserve — thousands of former prisoners of Belsavis — and that's just those on the upper and middle levels that the Republic reached during the Galactic Wars. And despite millennia of sleep, these beings — particularly the Sith — still wield influence over the other prisoners, most of whom they know very well. Have your subordinates check my candidates first — I am confident in their loyalty. The rest, seeing that the former high-ranking Sith of the Empire — generals, scientists, inquisitors — have gone over to Zakuul's side, will make the right decision much faster than waiting for their fate in processing camps."
"And what if your candidates turn out not to be as unequivocally loyal to the Empire as you think?" Savich inquired.
"The same thing you do with others who don't accept the Unified Force," Darth Ravage replied indifferently, drawing a smile from his colleague.
* * *
Standing on the bridge of the flagship of the Scythe fleet, Captain Teplyak silently watched as Rear Admiral Martio Batch, paying no attention to the nearby Generals Gallia and Piel, gave orders to the fleet's ships in a rather expressive manner.
The Ghost squad, consisting of Shadow Clones, observed almost in full as the Republic ships literally gnawed into the enemy's formations, from whose vanguard only a dozen Munificents remained — battered, but still fighting.
"These Gent fellows fight pretty well," Blackout said quietly.
"Agreed," Spark chimed in. "Until the fleets from Gent arrived here, the locals were chewing their cud and losing everywhere…"
"Quiet," Teplyak hissed at his subordinates, noticing that the Lannik, having turned toward the clones, was heading their way.
"Captain," the Jedi addressed him. "I have a task for you."
"Ready to proceed immediately, General," Teplyak assured him.
"No," a crooked grin cut across Piel's mouth. "Not now. But when we reach this fleet's flagship — you and I will take a trip aboard that Providence."
Teplyak looked at the officers and crew at their battle stations. They manned the terminals and monitors, their fingers flying over keyboards, reacting to the constant stream of incoming data, while the ship — a Valiant-class star carrier — pounded the enemy, literally tearing chunks out of the hull of the nearest Munificent.
Though the battle had only begun, Rear Admiral Martio Batch was already claiming victory. The fifth one this week.
And it seemed the endless failures of his subordinates had infuriated the Separatist fleet commander, given that he had deigned to show up here himself.
Except for the flagship, the Separatists had not a single capital ship, only Munificent-class frigates. And the experience of recent attacks showed that the enemy commander was not at all concerned by the fact that she had already lost over three hundred ships in those five battles. Because she had brought her entire fleet to Chardaan — the headquarters of the system army, defended by twenty Star Destroyers and fifty Hammerheads, supported by forty Marauders and fifty Golan-class defense platforms.
The Claism Fleet.
From the Jedi, Teplyak had heard about something called the Force. Sometimes this invisible substance pulled off curious things. Like now — it had brought the Ghost squad together with the Separatist Claism fleet, which they had been chasing for the last six months.
The mission to capture the Separatist commander of this fleet — a minion of Count Dooku named Kalli Trilm — had been handed down to the Special Operations Brigade from the head of Republic Intelligence herself. But no commando squad had been able to complete it. Some simply never reached their target, dying during the mission. Others, like Ghost, did manage to intercept the Claism fleet at its moorings. But each time, Kalli Trilm managed to escape.
According to the latest intelligence, the Claism fleet was supposed to be opposing Rear Admiral Grunger and his Sling fleet at Vogel, and meeting it here was… quite interesting. After surprises like that, willy-nilly, you start believing in the Force.
The Separatists were interested in Chardaan primarily because of the Chardaan Shipyards — an enterprise that had recently been producing ARC-170 starfighters under license from Incom Corporation. And doing so very successfully — the Grek army, after coming under the operational command of Grand Moff Dougan, had stopped experiencing a shortage of small craft. Small wonder this irritated the Separatists immensely. They continuously sent their combat units to Chardaan, which had routed the Republic fleet and, in fact, could have reached the shipyards. Rear Admiral Batch's arrival had been extremely timely.
In five attacks, he had destroyed about three hundred CIS ships, luring them into space minefields, launching surprise attacks with light forces. In the last battle, when the entire Separatist battle group was destroyed, Batch simulated his withdrawal from the Chardaan system, after which the Separatists, taking the bait, sent a fleet to the planet, intending to destroy the shipyards, protected only by the Golans.
And in the midst of that battle, Batch returned, trapping the droids between the defensive stations and his ships. All that remained of the Separatist fleet was a couple of dozen disfigured hulks, towed to the shipyards for scrapping. They were not fit for repair at all.
And now the Separatists had brought no fewer than four hundred Munificents under the command of a Providence, trying with concentrated fire to disable the defensive stations, each of which, in combat terms, was individually no worse than a Star Destroyer.
So the CIS was concentrating its fire on a group of stations, intending to punch through them with their fire, then pour through the resulting breach in the defense and engage Admiral Batch's fleet, which held position just behind the stations, taking advantage of the greater range of its guns to support the Golans.
The exchange was going with mixed success — the Separatists were trying to "pick apart" one station with the forces of a dozen Munificents, but at the same time, their heavy turbolasers lacked the accuracy and rate of fire to inflict sufficient damage on the station. Meanwhile, the mobile forces of the Scythe fleet struck from the flanks, with the Marauders' shock missiles and the ARC-170s' proton torpedoes slowly but steadily reducing the number of attackers, while the main forces of the Republic fleet exchanged fire with the main mass of Separatist ships.
Simple calculations showed that Kalli Trilm needed to destroy five Golans to clear a path to the shipyards. With a sufficient number of Munificents on the enemy side, this was quite possible. Before Rear Admiral Batch could reduce the number of enemy starships to the point where their best option would be to retreat.
Unless…
"The Sling fleet has emerged from hyperspace," one of the clone officers reported.
"Well, we've been waiting for this," Piel smiled.
"Sir," Teplyak addressed him. "Did Admiral Grunger leave Vogel without cover?"
"Not exactly," the Lannik admitted. "Critically damaged ships remained in orbit. Only those capable of fighting are here."
As Teplyak expected, the enemy immediately reacted to the Sling's arrival — no fewer than a hundred Munificents disengaged from the battle and headed toward the new threat.
"You know," Teplyak said, lowering his voice slightly, "I decidedly like the style of these Gent fellows. Drive, courage, risk…"
"I've had occasion to speak with Admiral Batch," the Lannik revealed. "The risk here is minimal. Kalli Trilm could have understood that if she had been waging war instead of exterminating defenseless worlds and finishing off the weak. But now… it seems she's run into her equal. The trap is truly magnificent. The more I learn about Dougan, the more I like his course of action."
"But what does the Grand Moff have to do with this?" Blackout asked.
"In his time, he pulled Batch and a dozen and a half other young and talented fleet and army officers from all over the Grand Army of the Republic," the Lannik explained. "And, as it turned out, his recruits have justified the trust placed in them. I have almost never encountered such efficiency, especially from young officers. This despite the fact that at their previous posts, most of them hadn't distinguished themselves so broadly. It takes an uncommon talent to spot such competent personnel among the vast array of Republic army officers."
"Maybe it's about the Force, sir?" Teplyak inquired.
"If so, then either Dougan is the greatest visionary I know," Piell said, "or he knows far more than he tells the others. In any case, he acts as Jedi should."
"But aren't Jedi keepers of the peace?" Teplyak had no doubt about the Lannik's knowledge on this matter, but from the very beginning of the war, the clone had been tormented by doubts that "keepers of the peace" were commanding combat units, sowing death and destruction… Mutually exclusive paragraphs, trying to explain which had broken more than one being's head.
"Now — yes," Evan Piel agreed. "But in the past, Jedi were excellent warriors, and with their help, the Republic more than once avoided collapse. And as soon as we traded the army for the duties of peacekeepers, the situation inside the country deteriorated sharply. Corruption, lawlessness, piracy, the slave trade… Perhaps this war is needed precisely for us to finally change, becoming what we should be for the common good, rather than to please the Republic's government."
Teplyak was not about to argue with a Jedi on matters about which the Shadow Clone was uninformed. Therefore, exchanging glances with the squad's fighters, he preferred to continue observing the battle from the bridge.
Meanwhile, Admiral Granger's ships, taking a position slightly above the Separatist formation, seemed to be in a "dead zone" the Munificents' guns were mostly in the lower hemisphere, so the Sling fleet was in ideal gunnery conditions, inflicting serious damage on the enemy while remaining outside their effective fire range.
The nearest Munificent exploded, turning into a fireball of flame and light — a salvo from Admiral Batch's flagship caught it from bow to stern. But it seemed no one on the bridge thought to pay any attention. There were no cheers, no smiles. The clones and Christophsians continued with their respective duties. The flagship kept firing, and Teplyak managed to see the bridge of another Munificent get blown clean off — a bridge that, due to the designers' oversight, had been placed on the ship's bow with little protection.
The uncontrolled ship began to list to one side, threatening a collision with its formation neighbors, but they took desperate measures to save their starships by avoiding the "cripple." And at that moment, the guns of the nearest Golan had their say. A brightly blazing barrage of concentrated red energy beams pierced the blackness of space. They punched through the cripple's deflector shields and slit open its armored hull. The turbolaser beams melted the protective casing around the engine reactors, and the frigate vanished in a flash of a massive explosion.
And immediately after that, on Rear Admiral Batch's order, his flagship and the rest of the fleet surged forward. Teplyak saw on the monitors that the starships of the Sling fleet mirrored this maneuver, essentially clamping the Separatists in a pincer, minimizing their maneuvering space, restricting their movements, and forcing the enemy, with every loss of their ships, to open themselves up to strikes either from the Scythe fleet and its accompanying Golan stations, or from the ships of the Sling fleet.
At the same time, the enemy fleet's own crowding, which had been intended to deliver massed strikes on the Golans' positions, now worked against the Separatists themselves.
The battle turned into a melee. A dozen Munificents immediately shot upward, intending to escape the crossfire of the attacked stations and Batch's ships, but instead fell under the fire of other stations positioned above the main battlefield.
And in the middle of this chaos, the Providence tried to drive off Batch's flagship, beginning to turn synchronously with the nearest Munificent to meet the Republic destroyer with broadside salvos, but the Valiant's batteries had already opened fire. The turbolaser and ion cannons roared, merging into a thunderous symphony of destruction, and the Munificent turned to dust in seconds.
And at that same moment, the entire port side of the Providence opened fire on Batch's ship. The salvo pierced the deflector shield defense, melting the outer hull plating of the Valiant. Damage reports came to the bridge, and judging by the lack of any reaction from the watch officer, the damage was minor. The Providence was too far away to inflict serious harm.
The Valiant, having locked onto the Providence, forced Kalli Trilm to concentrate all her forces on eliminating the threat from that direction, and therefore had to cease firing on the other ships.
One of the damaged Separatist frigates was finished off by Republic Hammerheads from the Scythe fleet, which had surrounded their flagship and come under heavy fire from the Munificents desperately trying to relieve the Providence.
Locked in close combat with the Republic ship, the Separatist flagship was unable to prepare for a jump into hyperspace — it needed to extract itself from the scrum the battle had become. But that was impossible — the enemy was firing on it continuously.
"It seems the time has come, General?" Teplyak inquired, watching as the Valiant, its protruding side sections nearly tearing the hull plating off the enemy destroyer, clearly intended to position itself directly opposite the main hangar. It wasn't hard to predict the further course of events: the ships were only a few hundred meters apart — a trifle for troops with jetpacks.
"Correct, Captain," the Lannik responded. "Time to put an end to the commander of the Claism fleet."
"And the rest of the Separatist ships?" Spark asked incredulously.
"Other commandos and boarding parties will handle them," Evan Piel cut him off. "Our target is Kalli Trilm."
* * *
"The last laboratory," Commander Flash reminded Starstone, pointing to a massive door that opened at her approach.
"As usual," Oli ordered. "Download the information, don't wake anyone."
Looking back at the fighters of the Aurek company following him, Beard nodded them toward the entrance.
Oli was the first to step under the vaults of the gigantic chamber, very similar to those where clones were born on Kamino — the troopers of the 204th had already enlightened her about that. The Emperor's apprentice listened to them absently, devoting more time to her own inner feelings. The entire cloning complex was literally permeated with the Dark Side. And in this chaos of alien emotions, her foresight was slightly… clouded.
Watching the clones quickly disperse in search of control panels, the girl, listening to the Force, headed along the wide walkway in the central part of the laboratory. The Force was insistently whispering something to her, warning of trouble. And, as befits her age, the girl didn't avoid trouble, but strode toward it with wide steps. She understood, of course, that if something happened, she'd get it from her teacher, and good, but she already had a suitable "legend" ready — she had gone on reconnaissance. While the clones were her strike force. As her experience in the battle against the Morgukai had shown, she was better than the clones at deadly caressing enemies with her weapon. The Kesh company, wiped out to the last man in an encounter with a couple of Morgukai, was direct proof of that.
A loud cry, more like the roar of a wild beast, came from somewhere above.
Oli, instantly orienting herself, activated her lightsaber, preparing for battle. The girl immediately opened herself to the Force, surrounding herself with a Barrier, and only then paid attention to the one who had decided to ambush her in the Morgukai cloning laboratory.
It was a fairly young man — about the same age as her teacher — dressed in elegant black armor. In his hands, he gripped a crimson lightsaber, and emanations of the Dark Side of the Force radiated from him in all directions.
Oli, from the height of her experience with the Force, allowed herself a laugh. Wonderful midi-chlorians, what a poser!?
With a flick of her wrist, the girl disrupted the enemy's plans for a flawless flight, slamming one of the cylinders with a Nikto embryo into him and spoiling his trajectory.
The man, having experienced all the delights of colliding with a solid object, crashed onto the walkway, then, pouring wild rage into his surroundings, leaped right next to her in a single bound, but at a good ten meters' distance. Idiot. Who duels at such ranges? Oh, the Sith didn't respect her.
Oli was in high spirits. Today, she would get to kill another of Count Dooku's henchmen herself. On her own. By her own will. Not as part of a test or training. This was a real battle. One from which she intended to emerge victorious.
The man's dark eyes burned with a rage that pierced her. The anger emanating from him was physically palpable, making the air slick and dirty. But she sensed something else in him, something unexpected, a strange split in feeling.
"I knew that sooner or later I would meet one of you Jedi," he hissed, literally boring into the girl with his gaze.
"You're quite the obvious acolyte, aren't you," Oli snorted.
"What do you mean?" the half-baked Sith momentarily lost his concentration.
"Did you really think you wouldn't run into the Jedi storming the complex?" Oli was amazed. "If so — you're a real kindergarten moron."
"And now I'm going to kill you too," he replied, lunging at her.
But Starstone was faster: a jump carried her several meters over his head, after which the girl quickly gave an order into her comlink. She landed in a crouch on the walkway, playfully beckoning him with her hand.
"It's harder than you think," she shouted, answering his anger with a wave of her calm. Honestly — some weak, half-trained fool, was it worth wasting her rage on him? "I assure you."
The man roared and leaped straight at her. She slid to the side, evading the descending strike; the blade of his sword sliced through the metal of the walkway at her feet. She countered with a sideways blow that would have taken his head off if he hadn't ducked under it.
She jumped, flipping in the air, and landed on another part of the platform fifteen meters away from him. Seizing a massive mechanism near the acolyte with the Force, she hurled it at the Sith half-wit. Without moving from his spot, he simply cleaved the mechanism in two with his lightsaber. Sparks showered down.
The man lunged at her again and struck from below; the girl deflected the blow to the side and, continuing the motion, kicked him with all her might in the stomach. Evading the kick, he jumped, tucked his legs, and upon landing delivered an overhead strike with both hands. Oli parried with a cross-block and delivered a Force-enhanced side kick aimed at his ribs. He caught her foot with his free hand, spun, and threw Oli several meters away. The girl flipped in the air, landed on her feet, went into a roll, simultaneously parrying a slashing overhead strike.
"You're quite well-prepared," the opponent assessed.
"Yeah, I see you are too," Oli said, meeting the eyes of the clones led by Flash, and signaled them with a gesture not to approach. She could handle this herself. No need for unnecessary casualties. Flash caught on immediately, and the clones assumed a defensive formation. "Djem So, Makashi… Who taught you?"
"I am a student of Count Dooku!" he declared proudly, clearly demonstrating his imagined superiority over a "Jedi apprentice." "And no matter how well-trained you are, your corpse will remain here."
Oli felt the Force stir behind her back. The girl, rolling away, caught a glimpse of new actors out of the corner of her eye—three or four Force-sensitives, just like the first, dressed in black robes. With crimson blades in their hands.
"And where did you come from?" Oli sensed the rage emanating from them. So raw and profoundly deep that even the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. For all she had delved into the depths of the Dark Side, this… Whoever these guys were, they clearly hadn't heard of inner control.
"We are the new acolytes of Count Dooku," a woman whose face seemed familiar to Oli grated. "And all of you—your teacher, his servants and hangers-on—will remain here. Dead."
"Do you all share the same script?" Oli grimaced, carefully circling the first acolyte so that the clones would be at her back. She had no doubt she could finish off a couple of these "acolytes" without much trouble, but the rest… Considering that behind these henchmen—two men and two women (though, calling one of them a woman—a girl a couple of years younger than herself)—Morgukai were appearing, shedding their Force Mask. It would be tricky. Though… If she used Force Storm…
Oli shook her head, driving away the temptation. No, to hell with that. Master Fay had warned her about the dangers of that Dark Side technique.
"Come on, Dougan bitch," the same woman shouted, activating her lightsaber (naturally crimson, what other surprises could there be), "call your master!"
"Force knows, I wanted to kill you all in accordance with the canons of the Light Side," Oli sighed. Her consciousness brushed against a familiar presence. "But it seems the Teacher has his own plans for that."
* * *
A Force Bond is a pleasant thing. And most importantly—useful when you realize that someone connected to you is in danger.
The feeling that Oli had walked into an ambush came almost simultaneously with the call from the senior clone commander Flash:
"Sir, we're in laboratory 47. Commander Starstone has run into a dark Force-sensitive."
"Since when does that scare her?" Ahsoka asked, puzzled. Really—one acolyte is no obstacle for my apprentice. She tore a Dark Prophet to pieces…
"Don't worry, she'll handle him," I assured her.
"I'm not worried about her, sir," Flash replied. "But what do we do about the other four?"
"Four acolytes?!" I asked again.
"Yes, sir," Flash answered calmly. "And a dozen Morgukai…"
"We're two minutes away," I said, simultaneously with Ahsoka tapping into Force Speed.
Fifteen Force-sensitives. Against one Oli… I certainly value my girl and don't doubt her talents, but… I'd rather not take the risk.
Near the target laboratory, Esterhazy had already appeared—unsurprising, given she was assigned to the 204th Legion. Gesturing for her not to interfere, the Togruta and I burst inside.
It took a couple of moments to leap high over Flash's troops and land on a flimsy-looking platform, which sagged under our weight.
"Actually, I wanted to finish them off myself," Oli said discontentedly.
"Don't be greedy," I shot back, opening myself to Battle Meditation. The Apprentice followed my example. "Five apiece here."
"Teacher…" Ahsoka addressed me, nodding toward the young guy standing ahead of the other acolytes. "You didn't…"
"Malorum," I felt like spitting, but remembered just in time that I was wearing a mask. "And why am I not surprised?"
"Dougan!" the young opponent of Oli forced out. "Oh, how I've waited for this meeting."
"And the others," I shifted my gaze to the other henchmen, "Master Simms, Salmara, Justice? And this little pipette—Noira Na? Well, I don't know the horned support group by name. And I don't give a damn. Must be ashamed, gentlemen Jedi, switching to the Dark Side."
"Maybe we can turn them?" Ahsoka cautiously suggested. "They're familiar with both the Light and Dark Sides…"
"Why the hell would I need these weathervanes?" I protested. "Fuel for the bioreactor. Though, I must admit, I feel sorry for Noira. That, by the way," I looked at Oli, "is your doing. Can't seem to purge pity for children from myself…"
"Well, sorry, I was setting up the Force Bond by the textbook," Oli spread her hands.
"How long is this comedy going to last?" Malorum roared. "Dougan, I want your blood!"
"Shut the fuck up!" I wagged a finger at him. "Let me finish. So, Oli, if you'd done everything by the book right away, we could have avoided many unpleasant moments. And now we wouldn't be looking at this suicide squad, but sitting in some cantina, sipping Corellian brandy or lum… Here, by the way, Flash," I addressed the commander, who, like everyone else present, had fallen into a bit of a stupor from what was happening. Well, sure, they expected there'd be mass lightsaber waving here. But no, guys, the chit-chat is just so I can accumulate more Force power…
"Sir?" the clone exchanged glances with his comrades. "We're all non-drinkers…"
"It's never too late to start," I remarked. Just a little more…
Starstone sighed mournfully, raising her eyes to the ceiling:
"So this is the wisdom you want to share with a Padawan—that it's never too late to start drinking?"
"Where's that sound coming from?" I uttered, feigning a look around. Ahsoka and the clones burst out laughing. Oli smiled, delicately covering her mouth with her hand.
"ENOUGH!!!!" Malorum screamed. "I'll kill you, Dougan!"
"Should I tell you what number you are on the list to say that?" I inquired. So, how are the structures arranged here… Hmm… Not many, but it'll do.
"I think their Sith courses were translated incorrectly," Oli shared a thought. "They all shout the same thing."
"Well, Dooku trains them all," I reminded. "What else to expect from an old fart?"
"By the way, Count Dooku fooled you all!" Malorum boasted. "You fancy yourself a great Jedi, or a Sith, or a Hutt knows what, but you never realized that I—am not a Jedi!"
"Uh… are you a fool, or what?" Ahsoka asked. "You studied and were raised in the Temple. That makes you a Jedi."
"I never studied in the Temple!" Malorum declared. "Count Dooku inserted me into the Order eleven years ago, after finding me in the Outer Rim. I've always served only him…"
"Oh, how about that," Oli uttered. "A spy in the very heart of the Order… Teacher, don't you want to rub Master Windu's nose in this fact later?"
"If you tell the Coruscanti Jedi all the cutesy moments that passed him by, the fire erupting from the spot he usually sits on will be visible even in Wild Space," I lamented. "And the entire atmosphere of Coruscant will burn to hell. Billions of victims, nuclear apocalypse…"
"Alright, that's it," Malorum spun his blade in the traditional Makashi salute. "Enough of this comedy, Dougan. We will fight!"
"Yeah, we will, we will, Filthy Idol," I sighed, activating my blade. Looking at the apprentices, I said, "Watch and remember, I'm showing this only once."
"My eyes are with you, Teacher!" Oli assured with a smile. She too seemed amused by this whole situation.
"And my montrals!" Ahsoka supported.
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled. "And my bow and my axe…"
Estimating the approximate trajectory by eye, I raised my blade slightly above my head, imitating a Shii-Cho stance. And when Malorum laughed at my movements, calling on the Force for speed, I sharply brought my weapon down in a downward arc, applying incredible effort to make the technique work.
And to the astonishment of everyone present, instead of closing in with Malorum, I sent a flat and immensely dangerous charge of energy that tore free from the blade toward him. Which in an instant crossed the space separating us and split the acolyte diagonally from shoulder to waist.
"Nice," I said. The idea of using a blade, which was essentially a closed energy loop, as a projectile, by creating a rupture of energy from the blade's loop with an extremely fast sword movement, tearing out part of the energy loop and sending it straight at the target, had come to me while studying several holocrons found in the Hero of Tython's abode. The technique was described so clumsily that I had to figure everything out with my own mind. Though I can't guarantee that what the Jedi of the past meant and what just happened are the same thing.
"Hutt in my soup!" burst from Ahsoka, whose jaw figuratively dropped to the floor.
"Yeah, and a piece for me too," Oli said, stunned.
"What are you standing around for?" I inquired. "The acolytes and Morgukai won't kill themselves."
Meanwhile, the enemy also had no intention of slapping their lips.
Simms, gripping her weapon more comfortably, charged at me, jumping halfway, clearly intending to finish me with one precise strike. For some reason, Kenobi's words surfaced in my memory that she was the best fencer among those he knew. Yeah, at that moment a certain Coruscanti-looking Jedi Master wept in a corner. Or was that not about her?
Ah, to hell with it!
At the peak of her jump, I aimed my left hand at her, roared, and jagged discharges of Force Lightning rushed toward her. Simms raised her weapon, but the stream of electricity literally knocked her back, sending her flying like a cannonball. The woman slammed back-first into the massive ceiling girders. But her head somehow didn't want to stop, and separating from the body, continued its journey onward.
Meanwhile, Ahsoka and Oli had already joined the battle. The first chose Noira Na as her opponent (brrr, what does it take to do to a child for her to reek of the Dark Side like that?). Oli was demonstrating the wonders of her unique style to Kay Justice, whose one-and-a-half-meter crimson blade clearly demonstrated the former Jedi's problems with the size of certain anatomical parts.
I got Master Salmara… Wait a minute. Where are our horned brothers?
"Jedi scum," she growled in my face as soon as our blades met.
"What's with this fixation of yours?" I sighed sadly, pushing the woman away from me, and with a swing drove my weapon into the chest of a Morgukai who had tried to sneak up behind me and gift me with an extra hole from his energy pike, not provided for by the parent manufacturers.
Another one tried to attack Ahsoka, who was engrossed in battle with the extremely agile Noira, but Oli noticed the danger in time, yanking the opponent toward her with the Force and breaking him in half over a massive handrail.
"You're not a match for me, Jedi," Salmara said through the crackle of sparking lightsaber blades.
"Your young friend thought so too," I smirked. "And his teacher thinks so. And his teacher's teacher. And so on. I'll have to disappoint you all at once."
Ahsoka and Oli were fighting a bit ahead of me, so when I struck Salmara with the Force, throwing her away from me, she flew right between both girls.
One of Ahsoka's snow-white blades, positioned along the flight trajectory, separated the former Jedi's torso from her head. And a Morgukai who appeared beside her, intending to poke the girl in the side with his weapon, unexpectedly found himself lifted off the floor and landing back-first on my lightsaber.
Ahsoka, ducking and blocking Noira's lunge, severed the girl's trachea with her second blade, dooming her to an unenviable fate. So with the next strike she pierced her heart, simultaneously parrying the lunge of another Morgukai who imagined he had the right to sneak up on my apprentice from behind. Now, now, buddy, that's my prerogative. The decapitated corpse collapsed to the floor.
"And that's all?" Oli pushed away the body of Justice, sliced at the waist, not forgetting to finish off the upper part with a casual thrust to the eye.
"We still have seven Morgukai," I reminded, surrounding myself and the apprentices with a Force Barrier, which almost immediately took hits from the Nikto. Just all the missing ones. Clenching my left hand into a fist, I grabbed them by the throat with the invisible hand of the Force, lifting them off the floor in the traditional execution method of Darth Vader. "Well, and who would have died if I hadn't raised the Barrier?"
"I thought you'd always cover us from behind," Oli said offendedly. "Are we keeping ourselves in perfect shape for nothing?"
The Togruta nodded in agreement.
"You could have just said 'thank you,'" I lamented, breaking the Morgukai's necks with a motion of the Force. "And for the future: a pumped-up belly and a toned body are no guarantee that I'll always be favorable to you. Dismissed, and I'll think about your punishment for now."
Tossing the corpses aside, I deactivated my weapon and headed at a leisurely pace toward the clones.
"'I won't be favorable to you,'" Oli quietly mimicked me, but I heard. "Hexid, Simi, and Atroxa seem to manage. What are we doing wrong, Ahsoka?"
"Living," the Togruta sighed with bitterness and resentment in her soul. "Do you have that outfit I gave you with you?"
"Yeah, in the travel bag, why?" Oli asked.
"Prepare it for tonight, my throat senses—it'll come in handy," Ahsoka shared a Force vision.
I didn't hear Starstone's reply. Coming up to Flash, I heard from him:
"Sir, we have good news and bad news."
"Start with the good."
"The Fury has arrived in the system, transmitting Imperial access codes."
"Yes, I already sensed that," I replied, catching in my thoughts images of Kira, Nadia, and someone powerful but unknown to me. "And the bad?"
"Vice Admiral Declann reports that a Separatist fleet has entered the system. Over five hundred various ships—from Munificents to Providences. They're currently regrouping at the edge of the system."
"Remember, Flash," I said instructively. "When the enemy outnumbers us—that's not bad news. That's extremely shitty news. Because 'Where are we going to bury them all?' is a pressing question."