Strangely enough, expecting a breather while establishing the base, I was cruelly mistaken.
Negotiations with the locals began the day after communicating with Yoda. We found a common language quickly—and how could we not find it when there was an entire fleet in orbit and an army on your planet that had crushed the previous ally in a matter of hours. The Over-Suzerain was anything but an idiot.
In short, everything was resolved to mutual satisfaction—the locals exhaled, realizing that no punitive campaign would be undertaken against them; the Republic, in turn, received a strategically important source of natural food. Even my statement that the food maintenance of the armed contingent at the base would henceforth be the Over-Suzerain's concern was graciously received by the latter. After all, what is an extra thirty thousand mouths to an agricultural world? A drop in the ocean.
Having received assurances from the Over-Suzerain that Ukio was from then on a reliable ally and supplier for the Republic, I could be proud of myself. Pellaeon's Leveler towed the slave traders' transport ships to orbit one by one. We expropriated the cargo by right of the victor, using it for clearing the site of the old CIS base. I didn't risk bringing the ships here in pairs. Sending the Iron Sun and the Blue Star to guard the transports, I returned to the Wanderer. While general business was doing itself, imperial business had to be resolved without waiting for Valkorion to remind me of himself again. The ghost hadn't visited me for quite a while, for which I give him credit.
While all this was going on, I had to contact the Hands and find out about the fulfillment of my instructions. Part of this I could control myself—Atroxa, Malgus, and even Grell had opened their minds to me. I had no particular obstacles in establishing telepathic contact with them. I only lacked time.
After departing from Ord Pardron, Nadia was given an assignment on Coruscant. The girl was to take control of the remains of Haor Chall Engineering. The company was still up for auction, and interest in it from potential buyers was completely absent…
I only had to organize the deal. I found the contacts for the HCE management on the same trading platform as the company's shares. For some hundred million, the company passed into my possession.
Being aboard the Wanderer, I carefully sealed the compartment. Setting up encryption on my personal holo-terminal, I entered the coordinates for the management of the acquired company. Pulling a hood over my head, I hid my face from the interlocutor. If it helps Sidious, how am I any worse?
"Hello," an image of a protocol droid appeared before me, looking to death like the notorious C-3PO. "I am TS-97, secretary droid to the Prelate heading the Xi Char order and the Xi Char Engineering company. How can I be of service to you?"
"Five minutes ago, I purchased your shares, and XCE belongs to me," I reported, transmitting the buyer identification code. The droid verified it, then returned its attention to me.
"You have made an excellent acquisition," it praised. "Our company…"
"I want to speak with the Prelate," I interrupted the droid.
"One moment," the droid's image disappeared and returned a couple of minutes later, supplemented by the image of an insectoid.
"The Prelate expresses his great gratitude to you," the droid translated the humanoid's speech. "You have made a wise choice. What will be your wishes, Master?"
"Most Honorable Prelate," I sighed. "In a few days, my plenipotentiary representative will arrive on Coruscant and contact you. You will leave the planet on a ship that you need to look for right now. My representative will deliver you to a planet that will henceforth become the new headquarters of Haor Chall Engineering. However, you should take care of protection—the planet has a strong radiation background."
The insectoid chattered something.
"The Prelate assures the Master that the Xi Char possess their own technologies for neutralizing radiation on an entire planet. Just half a year, and you won't recognize this world."
"I very much hope so, Prelate," I allowed myself to smile. "Now let's talk details…"
An alarm light for an incoming message from the Order command forced me to cut the negotiations short. Finishing the conversation with the Prelate, I shed the robe, getting rid of the disguise, and connected with the Jedi Temple.
"Master Rancisis, what a pleasant surprise…"
***
Yeah, pleasant. Like hell it was. The wretched Senate with its wretched senators.
I flew out of the cabin, activating my comlink on the go.
"Nyx, we have a problem on Rodia. Call the legion to arms—take the entire 204th with us, load onto the Wanderer and the ships of the first and second flights."
"Equipment?" From the clone's voice, it was clear he was also in a hurry. Unlike me, Nyx was managing the debris clearing on the planet.
A good question, of course, but as far as I remembered the adventures of one head-concussed dirt-ocrat senator, we wouldn't have to fight much there.
"Only infantry, gunships, and attack shuttles," I snapped. "We deploy in an hour."
"Understood, sir."
***
As you already understood, a distress signal came from Rodia from Senator Amidala. Raking my memory, I recalled that this inadequate woman had rushed off to a secret meeting with a Rodian senator to discuss humanitarian aid for the planet with the latter. During the war, Rodia found itself in a food crisis. And it's no wonder the CIS seized the opportunity.
The senator from Rodia lured Amidala into a trap. Her old enemy—Viceroy Nute Gunray—promised to resolve the planet's hunger issue if the Rodians handed Amidala over to him. Which the bastards didn't fail to do.
The notorious C-3PO managed to reach a closed communication channel of the Republic forces and report the trap. Unfortunately for me, my unit turned out to be the closest battle-ready one. Master Rancisis claimed there was an entire CIS squadron in Rodia orbit. The 13th Sectoral headquarters, busy preparing for the counter-offensive on Ryloth, made me the fall guy. And if you look at the web of hyperspace routes, despite Ord Pardron's apparent proximity to Rodia, it takes them longer to get there in a straight line than us.
Fortunately, our path to Rodia is not so far—we only need to get on the route from Molavar to Christophsis, crossing the northwestern part of the Arkanis sector. Rodia is right on the way…
But still, it will take us more than six hours to arrive on site.
"Lieutenant Lidus," I contacted the former first officer of the Convincing. "I and the first two flights of the fleet are departing. You and the remaining ships fall under the command of Captain Pellaeon. He is out of communication range; when he arrives—inform him of this."
"As you command, General," the officer confirmed receipt of the order, after which I disconnected.
***
The Rodian system met us with five Munificent-class frigates. The Banking Clan ships are certainly a strong opponent, but for someone else.
Launching squadrons from the cruisers' decks, the Hammer fleet engaged in a clinch with the enemy ships. The Confederate heavy turbolasers significantly depleted the cruisers' shields, but still didn't save the enemy starships from defeat.
"It's not even funny," I uttered, watching as the ships of my detachment, doubling the enemy's numbers, turned the former banking vessels into glowing plasma spheres. A pitiful hundred droid fighters couldn't compete with our more than two hundred.
"Resistance in orbit suppressed," Teren reported. "Landing force loading onto gunships."
"Excellent," I said. "I will join them."
***
Watching the so familiar LAAT/i gunships descending in the planet's atmosphere, Senator Amidala couldn't hold back her jubilation.
"The rest of the war, you, Viceroy, will spend behind bars," she said triumphantly, pointing a blaster at Gunray.
"Your victory is fleeting," the Neimoidian hissed.
Meanwhile, the shadow of one of the capital ships eclipsed the transparent dome of the landing pad.
"Republic warships!" C-3PO cried out.
Brushing the deck, the first three gunships touched down on the landing pad. Covered in gray soot, the ships opened their troop bays almost in sync, releasing dozens of clones.
Leading them was a tall man in a black cloak worn over gray-black armor. His face was hidden by a face mask and a hood pulled low, and in his hands he held a richly inlaid lightsaber.
He, along with the clone squad, approached the group that had by then surrounded the Viceroy. Representative Binks in a Jedi robe, Senator Farr, Amidala herself, and her protocol droid could see the approaching warriors in detail.
The Jedi stopped before her, allowing his soldiers to organize a defensive perimeter around their little group. Gunray, seeing the arriving Republic troops, grew dejected, hanging his head on his chest. The Jedi passing him stared at the Neimoidian for a while, then turned his gaze to Padme.
"Senator Amidala," he bowed slightly. "Jedi Knight Rick Dougan. I and my Hammer fleet have arrived to your rescue."
"Thank you, Jedi," the Senator smiled formally. "But I think we can handle it ourselves here."
"This is a flagrant violation of my civil rights…" Gunray cried out, taking a step toward the Jedi.
The latter, instantly snatching a lightsaber from his belt, activated the blade, holding it to the Trade Federation leader's throat.
"One more word, slug, and you won't live to see Coruscant."
"I… I will complain!" Nute assured him. However, those were his parting words.
"Alpha, get this piece of shit out of my sight," the Jedi asked. One of the clones, encased in armor unknown to her, twisted Gunray's arms behind his back, putting shackles on the latter's wrists.
"March," the clone convincingly pushed the Neimoidian in the back with a masked fist, directing him toward a gunship. With stumbling legs, the former initiator of the Naboo blockade trudged toward the warship.
"Master Vombat," the previously silent Rodian approached the Gungan in a Jedi cloak standing to my left (uh-oh, that's Anakin's cloak!). "On behalf of all Rodians, I thank you."
"I think, Senator, an error has crept in here," the real Jedi skillfully removed the cloak from Jar Jar's shoulders, then handed it to Padme. From this gesture, everything froze in the girl's chest. "How? Why is he handing Anakin's cloak to me? Does he know? But from where?". "Senator, I think you know to whom this clothing should be returned."
"Yes, yes," Padme stammered. She tried to suppress the agitation in her chest, accepting from Dougan's hands the garment of a person dear to her.
"The thing is, Senator," the Jedi addressed the Rodian. "Representative Binks is not a Jedi. He only skillfully misled everyone."
"Oh!" was all Onaconda could utter. Looking at the ridiculous Gungan, he said: "You are either the bravest or the stupidest person I have ever met."
"Maybe both," from the Jedi's voice, slightly distorted by the mask's vocoder, it seemed he had cheered up.
"I'm neither," the Gungan said in his foolish manner. He wanted to add something else, but was interrupted. One of the clones, approaching the Jedi, whispered something to him, and he gestured at the floor. In the same second, the clone placed a holocomm on the surface of the landing pad.
"Senator Farr," Palpatine's hologram looked directly at the Rodian. "Senator Amidala brought your needs to my attention."
The Chancellor pressed a hand to his chest, demonstrating the importance of his words. This did not escape those present.
"I have already sent a caravan with an escort to your system," he assured.
"Thank you, Chancellor," Farr livened up.
"The arrest of Viceroy Nute Gunray is an important achievement for the Republic," the Chancellor continued. "I thank everyone for their courage. Especially, I heard that you distinguished yourself, Representative Binks!"
"Heh-heh," the Gungan spread his mouth in a smile. "Nothing at all."
"Also," the hologram focused its attention on the Jedi. "Many thanks to you too, much-respected Jedi…"
"Jedi Knight Dougan," the member of the Order introduced himself. Padme frowned. Ani had said something about him. But she couldn't remember exactly what. A barely perceptible shadow flickered on the Chancellor's face. "Is he really acquainted with this Jedi?" Padme thought. But she immediately rejected the thought. It didn't look like it. The Chancellor didn't even know his name. Maybe he was surprised by the temple guardian's appearance? After all, not all of them wear armor or such expensive fabric for a cloak.
"You responded so quickly to the call for help," the Chancellor stated.
"We were nearby," the knight admitted.
"Well, it's for the best," the Chancellor gave everyone his smile. "Knight Dougan, I ask you to organize the Viceroy's security until the arrival of the warship that will deliver him to Coruscant for trial."
"As you command, Chancellor," the Jedi bowed, after which Palpatine's hologram disappeared.
***
I don't know what kind of caravan Palpy was talking about, but I had to solve the hunger problem of an entire planet. Senator Amidala, waving her hand, departed for Coruscant on Senator Farr's starship, which rushed to the Senate with speeches about how she and Farr had developed a clever plan that allowed Gunray's capture. Under this sauce, the senator, who had joined the Loyalist group in the Senate, hoped to snatch a few allies for Amidala who had previously occupied a neutral position.
As for me, obeying orders, I remained in orbit. The initial indifference with which I regarded the foreigners' problems receded when, after Amidala's departure, I realized I could extract my own profit from the situation. As a result—for a week now, Hammerheads have been shuttling between Ukio and Rodia, guarding recovered slave-trading transports. Emptied of their cargo, the not-so-fresh starships under clone control delivered food to the starving world. For several tens of billions of Rodians, each such delivery is but a drop in the ocean. Но благодарны они были и за это.
Having heard my report on using captured ships to solve the food crisis, the Council approved such measures.
"Currently it is dangerous to send a food caravan through territory still partially controlled by Separatists," Gallia lamented. "Therefore, the Council and the Chancellor personally express their gratitude to you for such decisive measures to save Rodia."
"It is my duty, Master," I said, looking down. "But there are not enough ships."
"As is the case everywhere," Master Rancisis noted.
"Well then," I concluded. "I will continue transporting supplies from Ukio."
"Splendid," Yoda grimaced. After a silence, he added: "There is another task for you, Knight."
"In a week, the cruiser Tranquility will arrive at your location," Adi Gallia said, picking up the Grand Master's words. I hadn't even asked which one! "Senate Guards will take Gunray into custody and deliver him to Coruscant for trial."
"One cruiser?" Well, okay, I've watched the cartoons; I know what kind of mess is going to happen there. But what kind of brain are they using?! One ship to escort such a significant criminal?! It's not funny. "Don't you fear Gunray's henchmen will try to free him?"
"Such a danger exists," Yoda noted. "That is why we are assigning this task to you, Knight Dougan."
"Excuse me, what?" It came out like I was mumbling. Then, figuring it out, I said: "Rodia is on the border with the 14th Sectoral. CIS and pirate groups still wander here. I cannot withdraw the Hammer fleet ships as long as the danger of a new seizure of the planet exists."
"You have acquaintances on Christophsis," the Grand Master vaguely reminded. "Would they not agree to help you, allocating some of their ships?"
What a shrewd bastard! Not only did they dump an entire starving planet on my shoulders, but they're also forcing me to use personal connections for the sake of the galactic cause.
"I will contact their Defense Fleet, Grand Master," I had to assure the Cheburashka. It's clear Shirano and Vizla would give me the whole defense fleet if I just snapped my fingers. But the nature of our relationship is better kept secret from the main part of the galaxy. "I think they will allocate some ships for us."
"Happy to hear that, I am," the green one assured me. "Escort Gunray to Coruscant. The Council wishes to see you and inform you of a new assignment."
Well, talk about a surprise! Unlike the grand appearance before the senators, in the conversation with the Council, I didn't wear a mask. It would seem—why on earth? But no. Had it been on my face, I could have hidden the surprise from my interlocutors.
"A new assignment?" I asked cautiously. "I thought my actions more than satisfied the Council."
"That is so," Adi Gallia assured me. "You and your fleet will receive a new assignment. Thanks to you, the situation in the 13th Sectoral is turning out much better. This is causing certain movements in the Senate and the government." Adi paused, obviously catching a warning glance from Yoda. "Unfortunately, this is not a conversation for holocomms. We expect your arrival on Coruscant."
With those words, the Order disconnected.
"What a pack of faggots!" A wave of anger spread in all directions, knocking several pads off the holoprojector. Alpha and Balda, standing on either side of the Wanderer's command compartment doors, silently rose to their feet, knocked over by the Force.
"Sir?" the Seventeenth addressed me. "Are things bad for us?"
"I don't know yet, Alpha," I admitted. "I don't like this. The Order could have given me any assignment over an encrypted channel. But now they are forcing me to move to Coruscant, where I would want to be least of all."
"Could this be related to your Plan in some way?" Balda inquired.
"Unlikely," I dismissed the suggestion. "The Plan is being implemented in systems where the Republic doesn't even go. This is something else. Damn, what bad timing!"
Rodia, Gunray, the journey to Coruscant. All this was messing up my cards. The Order didn't have the habit of summoning Jedi to the carpet across half the galaxy for trifles. This was something else. Something bigger. Intuition told me it was somehow connected with Bylur. Windu had arrested him as soon as the Jedi arrived in the system. The Moff, accused of treason and corruption, had departed for Coruscant, where a trial awaited him. Vice Admiral Iliso Var had been appointed acting commander of the 13th Sectoral. Maintaining periodic communication with the whole group of "conspirators," I received unofficial news from across the galaxy.
My tip on Grievous helped Skywalker and his Padawan save Plo Koon. And not just pull the Kel Dor from an escape pod, but naturally preserve his starfighter flight. The Malevolence, on which every dog—I mean a good dozen Jedi and fifty ships—had been unleashed, just like in canon, first lost its ion guns. And then literally the ship was torn apart by a massive volley of proton torpedoes.
The victory, which sounded just a couple of days ago, flew around the galaxy in the same second. And once again Anikin is a good boy, saved everyone. A hero without fear or reproach.
It was only a comfort that the naval intelligence officer Phev Darill had achieved career growth, jumping over the major's bars in one go. Lieutenant Colonel Darill, in a private conversation, thanked me for the tip, hinting that he wouldn't mind talking with my source.
As for me, I just had to wait on Rodia for the Republic cruiser.
***
Odessen met her with a cool night.
Leaving the Fury, Kira allowed the night breeze to pass over her skin. The base, submerged in the darkness of blackout, was frozen before her like a giant night demon.
She had stopped being afraid of demons. A long time ago, at that.
Dougan had sent her to the headquarters with clear tasks. Of course, he didn't explain where the Togruta or Vette had gone, who would have been better suited for the roles of commandants. But she wasn't going to discuss orders.
Wrapping herself in a cloak, the girl walked slowly along the pavement separating the landing pad from the rocks, in whose depths the seed of their Empire was hidden.
Much had to be done, so—one had to hurry. Soon Nadia was to arrive here. Kira had to organize the delivery of her friend and all the Xi Char people to Zakuul.
The Jedi did not comment on why he had decided to start with Zakuul. Either Valkorion required it, or of his own will.
Unlike Nadia, Kira preferred to keep her mind closed. Neither Valkorion's tortures nor his persuasions had been able to break her completely. She remained faithful to herself and her beloved, and therefore—the way into her consciousness was closed to the Emperor and his apprentice forever.
Now she had to perform routine work. And though youth—the time in stasis doesn't count, she's still only thirty years old—required a thirst for action from her, she preferred to retreat into the shadows.
Somewhere out there in boundless space (how else to explain the absence of six whole dreadnoughts?) were Atroxa and Malgus, Vette, Zavros, Grell, and Vizla. The Hands who sympathized with the Emperor's goals and assisted in their implementation. She, however, would stay aside. Enough with wars for her.
"Ms. Carsen," one of the mercenaries met her near the gates. "We were expecting your arrival. Your quarters are ready," he handed her a pad. "Here are reports on the work since Ms. Zavros's departure."
"Good," the girl said, stepping under the fortress's stone vaults.
***
"Gunray's capture could turn into a serious threat to us, my friend," the holographic figure of Lord Sidious loomed over the kneeling Tyranus. Another moment ago, he had sat in the command chair of the flagship Munificent; now, he was greeting his master. "The Viceroy will not remain silent long under Jedi interrogations."
"I have set one of my plans in motion, my master," Dooku assured the Sith. "Sev'rance Tann has brought the Sarapin system under our influence. She will rescue the prisoner or silence him until the end of his days. I give you my word."
"Wonderful, my friend," a smirk cut Sidious's lips. "The Jedi Council has sent the cruiser Tranquility to Rodia. Gunray will be guarded by the Jedi Dougan."
Hearing the name, Dooku grew alert.
"He defeated Trench and Loathsom on Christophsis," he recalled. "Captured Ukio…"
"He must be disposed of," the teacher barked. Perhaps even louder than he should have. This impatience did not escape Dooku.
"Perhaps Ventress should be brought in to help Tann?" he suggested.
"Not necessary," Palpatine rejected the idea. "Her mission with the Hutt child must succeed. The Hutts are valuable allies who will be useful to us in the struggle against the Republic and the Jedi."
On those words, Sidious's hologram disappeared.
With a light hiss, the elevator doors opened behind Dooku, letting a Chiss woman into the bridge.
Blue-black hair framed her cute face with glowing red eyes. Light armor emphasized the beauty of her figure. Но как женщина она не привлекала сита. She was merely a tool—useful, but nothing more.
"Master," she bowed to him, expressing her submission and readiness to execute any order.
Dooku handed her an info-chip.
"Here is the route of the Republic cruiser carrying Viceroy Gunray. Save him. If you cannot—kill him. He will be guarded by a Jedi. Get rid of him regardless of the outcome."
"As you wish," the girl answered. Accepting the gift, she watched Dooku depart from the bridge.
"On the chip, you will find the communication codes for our agent aboard the Jedi's ship," the Count said, stepping into the elevator car. "Do not fail me, Tann."
"Not at all, teacher," the girl bared her teeth in a smile. Frowning, Dooku disappeared into the car.
Minutes later, his personal shuttle left the flagship frigate. A moment—and Dooku's personal yacht disappeared into hyperspace.
Sinking into the captain's chair, Tann smirked, imagining yet another Jedi destined to fall by her hand.
"Prepare the squadron for transit," she commanded. A dozen Munificents, engines flashing, disappeared into hyperspace.
***
When they finished speaking, HK plunged into calculations.
The assassin droid, created back in the days of the Old Republic by the Master himself, remained a first-class executor and a deadly mechanism even thousands of years later. Just as the Master had created him. And what had happened didn't change that.
The droid's AI analyzed the two Siths' words. Serving a Jedi. Saving the galaxy. Opposing the Sith. A logical contradiction—how can Sith compete with Sith? Answer: Sith always compete with each other. Because of power, self-love, vanity. The meatbag Malak is proof of that.
That the Master died didn't change the task. Defend the "Factory." A direct directive. He had followed it when he was restored by Malgus's servants. Stupid meatbags. They didn't even turn off the backup data core.
Defeat at the hands of a Jedi strike team on Ilum didn't worry him. The task was more important. As soon as repair droids restored his body, HK seized one of the stealth ships and departed for the Lehon system.
The Master, barely stepping onto the station's threshold, had installed upgrades in him. Including—HK always knew where the "Factory" was located. An invention of meatbags called the "Rakata." They did a good job.
HK slaughtered everyone who tried to escape on the station. No one survived. The order was more important.
HK waited for the Master to return. He waited a long time. The Master fought with the Empire and the Republic. But he didn't return for HK. Cognitive contradiction—the Master never ignored HK. The contradiction was resolved when the analytical module gave the results of the modeling—the person on Yavin 4 was not the Master.
Then HK moved to secondary tasks. The Master sought to exterminate the Sith. But he didn't have time. The Master spoke with the "Factory's" computer. HK also spoke with this illogical set of software code. Shallow, impractical, useless.
HK erased the station's AI. HK subdued the station. HK made the "Factory" more efficient.
The meatbags called "Rakata" created the Star Forge—a magnificent automatic factory. The "Factory" was to become such a Star Forge. All necessary resources were available for this.
The "Factory's" sensors recorded an unknown energy that the Master called the Dark Side of the Force. The Master used this energy. HK allowed the "Factory" to absorb the Dark Side of the Force. The station's automatons absorbed the remains of their predecessor and transformed the "Factory" into a Star Forge.
Scrap metal was lacking to complete the project. The new Forge was operating at only a third and needed further resources. The meatbags' ships would have done—but the New Forge had no armament. The design didn't provide for it.
But the strangers' information made the processing unit analyze the situation again.
HK turned to his data banks to update information about the Sith. The Sith. A faction of meatbags calling themselves Sith. They want the same thing as any intelligent meatbag—power to kill anyone they want at any time.
The Sith need a station to destroy other Sith. The first Sith are led by a Jedi. The Jedi wants to unite the galaxy. The second Sith wants to exterminate the Jedi. The first Sith seek to lure the Jedi to their Jedi's side. This Jedi means no harm to the Republic; he plans to reorganize it. The Jedi wants to see the galaxy strong and united. The Jedi uses Sith teachings. The Jedi wants much knowledge. The Jedi needs a mechanical army. The army is needed by the Jedi for victory over the Sith seeking to conquer the galaxy for personal ends. Analysis complete.
The Jedi corresponds 76% to the Master's behavioral model. A preliminary behavioral model can have errors of up to 20%. A 56% match with the Master's behavioral model. This is sufficient to join the Jedi.
"Cautions observation: a personal meeting with the Jedi is necessary."
The Sith looked at each other. Then the Twi'lek girl nodded energetically. She froze for a moment, closing her eyes. Following that, she opened them.
HK noted that this meatbag lacks the whites of her eyes. The eyeballs had acquired a matte-black color.
"Well, what do you know," the low timbre of the voice coming from the Lethan's mouth couldn't belong to a female meatbag. "HK-47!"
"Caustic triumph: Did you remember, meatbag?"
"Don't offend Atroxa," the Twi'lek girl said. "Currently her consciousness… does not own her body. You wanted to see me, HK?"
"Surprise: Does the Jedi control this meatbag?"
"I do. She serves me, after all. Just as Jedi and Sith served your creator."
"Irritatedly: they failed the Master. Statement: my master assembled a veritable collection of crippled individuals who seemed incapable of dealing with basic personal conflicts. Let me quote some specific examples," the droid turned to his archives. "In Carth Onasi's voice: 'Oh, Master, I don't trust you! I can't trust you or anyone else anymore!'. In Bastila Shan's voice: 'Oh, Master, I love you, but I hate your whole cause, but I think we need to touch each other with our slimy lips in the cargo bay!'."
HK saw a smile appear on the Twi'lek's face.
"Conclusion: Such pheromone-induced meatbag responses never fail to lower the charge in my capacitors and cause a desire to put a blaster to my behavioral core and pull the trigger. Are your companions the same?"
"Well, my servants," the Twi'lek nodded her head toward the meatbag named Malgus. "Will not fail me. I control them. As if a droid were controlled by a restraining bolt. If they try to rebel—I will destroy them."
"Enthusiastic exclamation: the Jedi could become a good killer! HK-47 is ready to act as a personal trainer."
"Hold on," the Twi'lek smirked. "I'm on the other end of the galaxy. In Rodia orbit."
"Analysis: backwaters of the galaxy. Home of mercenaries and bounty hunters. Very mediocre ones."
"Well, I'm not here of my own will," another smirk on the Twi'lek's face. "Did Atroxa and Malgus tell you that we are preparing a conspiracy against the Sith ruling the galaxy?"
"Agreement: their words have been analyzed. There is logic in your actions."
"I need allies. I need an army. This station can produce droids that will become the core of my army. With its help, I will conquer ancient Sith worlds, and then—deal a defeat to the Sith themselves."
"Cautions question: what are the projected casualties?"
"In the plans—to finish off all the bastards I know about."
"Suggestion: the new Forge can make your droid paratroopers more effective if my AI is taken as a model."
"And what do I need an army of as-clever-as-you for?" the Twi'lek smirked for the third time. "I always thought HK should be one of a kind. Creating droids with even a tiny bit of your talent is a sacrilege against Revan's legacy."
"Mocking warning: I'm going to leak lubricant from my eyes and rust from happiness right now…"
"Yeah, yeah. Your signature humor. HK, I'm not used to making long motivational speeches with clever interlocutors—it's an insult to the interlocutor's intellect. Yours included. My servants made you an offer of alliance. I need the New Forge. Join in, and together we will finish what your master started."
"Reasoning: what happens if I don't join?"
"Then I'll contact the three dreadnoughts outside the station and blow it to hell."
"Observation: two of your servants will die, Jedi."
"What the hell do I need them for if they were defeated by a droid? Meatbags, nothing more."
"Appreciative observation: your servants haven't encountered a superior intellect."
"That's why they are merely servants. My servants."
HK flashed his optical sensors. Bringing the rifle stock to his shoulder, he pumped two scarlet bolts into Malgus's chest armor plate. The Sith, thrown by the recoil, rose to his feet with a wild growl, ready to rush the droid. HK clicked the bolt, connecting a new gas cartridge.
"Malgus, stand down," the Twi'lek girl said in a calm voice. Addressing the droid, the Jedi asked.
"And why the hell? He's in heavy armor—it can't be pierced by a rifle."
"Triumphant statement: I know. But now he has five broken ribs and two huge bruises. A week in kolto is guaranteed for him."
The Twi'lek burst into laughter, throwing her head back. A rolling bass carried under the room's vaults. This lasted a couple of minutes, after which the Jedi controlling the Twi'lek's body asked:
"Was that revenge?"
"Confirmation: I have waited three thousand six hundred twenty-one years for this," the droid reported. Then, making sure Malgus was barely standing from the pain, the droid returned the rifle to its mount. Turning to the Twi'lek whose body the Jedi controlled, HK studied the decision of the analyzing module and the logistics center.
"Resolution: I will join you, Jedi. Warning: I will be happy to proceed to genuine violence. Question with unconcealed hope: does anyone need their neck snapped right now, owner?"
***
The Nu-class shuttle took its place in the lower hangar of a brand-new Venator. Bearing the proud name Tranquility, the cruiser met us at the agreed point in Rodia orbit. The Wanderer and Veltraa escorted the craft and returned to the squadron.
"I am immeasurably rich," like an Edenic serpent, the Neimoidian whispered his voluptuous speeches into my ear. "And I can be grateful to my allies…"
"And I am mortally tired of your company, Viceroy," I admitted. "And I would gladly shorten your tongue with a lightsaber."
"But Jedi don't do that!" the Viceroy was horrified.
"It's never too late to start," I suggested, descending the ramp. Behind me, Alpha prodded the alien. The following three clone squads left the shuttle, lining up in three rows on the side of the ramp.
"And here's the reception committee," Alpha grunted, nodding toward a trio of Senate Guards encased in blue armor. They weren't alone, though.
At a short distance from them, a pretty girl of about 15-16 years old was walking, with long curly dark hair. A sweet, slightly shy smile reigned on her face when I met her eyes. Dressed in a gray cloak hiding her build and outer clothing, she stopped a few meters from us as soon as the conversation with the guards began.
"Captain Argus, Senate Commandos," the leader of the blue-armored trio introduced himself. A tall man with groomed golden hair, a pampered face, and an arrogant look. That was all I could say about him. "Greetings, General."
"Jedi Knight Rick Dougan," I knew beforehand that I was facing Dooku's agent, but to draw a sword now and cut off his head… In short, they wouldn't understand me. "Is the brig ready?"
"Yes, General," the Captain smirked. "Waiting for the rogue."
"Excellent," I nodded. "Alpha, take the first squad and escort the Viceroy to his new quarters."
"This is a flagrant violation in the administration of justice!" Nute Gunray stated. "I demand a lawyer…"
"March silently!" Alpha slammed a masked palm into the Neimoidian's back, making him almost stumble.
As soon as the squad and the commando disappeared from the hangar, Argus addressed me:
"We could have managed ourselves, General," he noted. "That's what we were sent for," he reminded.
"Extra security doesn't hurt," I countered. "The Viceroy won't go to prison just like that. I wouldn't be surprised if Count Dooku's agents are already acting to free him."
"In that case," the Captain smiled. "They'll have to work hard. He won't leave here easily."
"Precisely so, Captain," I confirmed.
Together with the captain, we headed toward the airlock when my eyes fell on the girl.
"Captain," I stopped the guard. "And who is that?"
"You don't know?" he was surprised. "She's a Padawan from the Temple. The Jedi who put her on board said she is your apprentice."
***
"Mentorship is the path of any Jedi," Eeth Koth said instructively. "The Council believes you possess invaluable experience, Knight Dougan. And you can pass it on to your Padawan."
"How old is she?" I asked the hologram of the Masters. "Thirteen? Fifteen?"
"Age is not important," Adi Gallia noted. "She is perfectly educated and prepared. She was first in her class."
"She's a child!" I stuck to my guns. "She should be sitting in the Temple reading books. This is war. People are killed here every day. And you send a child across half the galaxy to me, and against my will!"
"The Council made the decision," Yoda summed up. "The Padawan will accompany you until the end of this mission. Once you return to the Temple—we will discuss her further fate."
The Council disconnected, leaving me in irritation.
What a bunch of…
"Actually, I'm almost sixteen," the girl's voice came from the far corner of the communication center. "I turn it in half a year."
"I'm incredibly happy for you," I snapped. Then, seeing the Padawan's confused face, I hurried to pull myself together. It's not her fault the Council didn't give a damn about her or my desire and launched her at me as a burden. As if on purpose—first they summon me to Coruscant, then they weigh me down with an apprentice. Whose side are they on, anyway?
You can't fight effectively when a shrimp is underfoot. Any of the Hands, the clones, even the militiamen know you can't expose yourself. One wrong move—and you're a corpse. How am I supposed to hammer that into a child's head?
I didn't believe the Council would change its decision on Coruscant and remove the mentorship from me. That would mean the Masters don't just have a bullet in their heads, but an entire proton torpedo failed to detonate.
No, really, what freaks, huh?
"Sorry, I was venting," I addressed the child. "I wasn't looking for an apprentice. It's too dangerous for that on the front."
"I know," the girl nodded. "I sought the front myself. Master Nu is a good teacher, of course, but…"
"Are you an archivist's apprentice?" It dawned on me.
"I was," the girl admitted. "But I can't sit in the Temple while others are fighting. Ahsoka Tano is barely fourteen—and she is already Skywalker's apprentice. And I…"
I ran my palm over my face. Well, damn, what would it have cost to send at least a boy? Give him a couple of wallops—and that's it, good as gold. Why a girl? You can't give her a kick, or a belt to the butt. You have to be nice and polite—otherwise she'll cry and short-circuit all the wiring.
"We haven't formally introduced ourselves," I recalled. "Rick Dougan, your teacher." I held out my hand to the girl.
The little one approached me, shaking my massive paw, encased in ancient Sith armor, with her tiny, snow-white hand.
"Olee Starstone, your Padawan."
Something clicked in my head once again.
***
Apparently, I won't stop catching dejà vu in this galaxy. Whoever you talk to—I immediately recall what I read about them on Wookieepedia or in the "Legends" books. The canon invented by Disney… anyway, let's not talk about sad things.
Olee Starstone was familiar to me as a character in the book about the rise of young Darth Vader. She caused a lot of problems for both allies and enemies. But for the most part—she was the indirect cause of Jedi Knight Roan Shryne's death.
Walking with the girl toward the prison cells—I didn't want to sleep through Gunray—I listened with half an ear about how the girl had already assembled her lightsaber at 14—nothing remarkable, an ordinary silver hilt without frills. A blue blade, emphasizing her restless energy. Fencing style—Ataru, and a little Soresu. Something there about the midi-chlorian count and so on and so forth…
The girl, taking my calm tone for resignation with her appointment, chirped incessantly, telling gossip from the Temple that, frankly speaking, I wanted to ignore from a high bell tower.
"Teacher," the trigger-word brought me out of my thoughts. "What kind of sword and fencing style do you have?"
"Niman," unhooking the hilt from my belt, I shoved it into the girl's hands.
"Wow! Aurodium?"
"Yeah. And phrik."
"And why Niman? It's… incomplete."
"In what sense?" I didn't get it, stopping from what I heard. Then, when it got to me a second later, I resumed my step. "Don't listen to the nonsense they say. Niman is a perfectly worthy combat style. It's just that few people think it necessary to study it properly."
"But no one uses it now," the girl recalled.
"Yeah," I confirmed. "All the adherents stayed on Geonosis."
"But you're alive!" the girl noted.
"I was lucky," in a sense I didn't even lie. "My teacher put a lot of effort into making me a worthy Force adept."
"But why Niman?" the girl grimaced. "Skywalker uses Form Five…"
What have you started on? A Scovorodker fan club or something?
"And what of it?" I clarified. "And Kenobi—Soresu. Yoda—Ataru. Dooku—Makashi. Shall I go on?"
"No need," the girl was slightly offended. "It's just not clear why Niman is better…"
"It's not," I admitted. Seeing the girl's eyes round, I continued. "Niman has no advantages over other styles. But no disadvantages, either. Adherents of this combat form use techniques from all previously created forms. At the same time, the style becomes more than just sequences and elements. It acquires the traits of its owner's individuality. Improvisation, rapid analysis of the situation, the opponent—that is what Niman is. Not those crooked bits Drallig teaches Padawans. I doubt he even knows Niman as it was known by the Jedi of the Ruusan period."
"But Master Drallig masters all forms of lightsaber combat!" the girl protested. Then, catching herself, asked. "And what is the Ruusan period?"
Holy mother! What are they teaching kids in the Temple?
We turned the corner.
"Jedi have always waged war against the Sith," I began the lecture. "Approximately a thousand years ago, on the planet Ruusan, Jedi and Sith met in a final battle, after which the Sith, as the Order believed, disappeared. After this victory, the Republic government and the Order decided to disband the Jedi army and the armed forces. From warriors and commanders, Jedi became guardians of peace."
"No way!" the girl exclaimed. "They didn't tell us that. But what about the Jedi Code? It tells us we should be…"
"Go ahead, quote the Code to me," I asked, "since I've somewhat forgotten…"
"How can that be, Teacher?" the girl was indignant. "The Code is the foundation of our order."
After that, the girl almost sang the quote:
"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force."
"Hmm," I grunted. Then, I raked my memory and produced: "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no fear, there is power. I am the heart of the Force. I am the guiding light of the Light. I am the mystery of the Darkness. In balance with chaos and harmony, immortal in the Force."
"W-w-w-hat is that?" the girl asked, stammering.
"The Je'daii Code," I shrugged. "The ancestors of the Jedi, who studied the Force tens of thousands of years before us. Not just the Light Side, but the Unified Force. Both the Light and the Dark sides. They lived on the planet Tython, in the center of the galaxy. The Force on the planet was always in balance. And if one of the Je'daii disturbed their balance in the Force, they were exiled to one of the planet's moons—Ashla for the Light, and Bogan for the Dark."
"But," the girl resisted. "The Dark Side of the Force… it leads to selfishness, ruthlessness, a thirst for power…"
"Oh really?" I asked. "And is everything good on the Light Side? Is everyone good there and no one ever did anything bad?"
"Yes!" the girl stated. "The Light Side…"
"Some time ago, Jedi invaded the planet Galidraan and slaughtered the Mandalorians to the root. Only after a couple of survivors remained of a huge detachment did the Jedi realize they had been used just so the planet's governor could settle his disputes with the Mandalorians."
Stunned by what she heard, Olee fell silent.
We reached the prison sector. Nodding to Alpha, I waited for the prison screen to disappear and went inside.
"Viceroy, meet Olee Starstone, my Padawan," I nodded to the girl. "And now she will cut off your hands if you don't start talking…"
***
The Separatist fleet jumped right under the nose of the cruiser, just preparing for a hyperspace jump.
The ship was shaken significantly as the first volleys of heavy turbolasers hit the ship's hull.
"Alert!" cried the clone captain under whose command the Tranquility was. "Raise shields, deploy aviation."
"Captain, how many of them are there?" the Jedi's voice came from the comlink.
"Ten Munificents, sir. And a small air wing. Boarding bots with them. They've blocked the transition zone. Aiming to surround…"
"Maintain course, Captain. Raise the aviation and direct infantry to the possible landing zone," the Jedi's cold orders calmed the captain. The Tranquility was his first assignment. As it was for most of the crew. "Have the Hammerheads contacted?"
"They are jamming our communication, sir," the clone noted. "We can't contact your fleet. Но ваши корабли уже ввязались в бой — они оттягивают на себя силы КНС."
"Execute the order, Captain," the General commanded. "The Hammerheads will deal with the Munificents. We need to reach Christophsis…"
***
The idea of staying and helping the fleet I dismissed immediately. It's clear that if we were winning, they'd send a fleet more powerful than the previous one. And then one could sit in a giant puddle. Another matter—the Christophsis fleet. There the Seps would be taken apart for all they're worth.
"Well then, Viceroy," I said. "Here they are for your soul."
"Aaaa," the Neimoidian bared his teeth. "A rescue mission."
"More like—an operation to clean up a talkative witness," I smirked.
"General," the ship's captain contacted me. "Droids in the hangars. Pushing toward the prison block. Soldiers report a woman with a lightsaber."
"Ventress," I said. Well, of course, just like in the cartoon, Dooku sent an assassin. "Let the soldiers deal with the droids, Captain. The assassin is my concern."
Disconnecting the communication channel, I turned to leave.
"Teacher, I'm with you," the girl declared, having recovered from my hasty "attack" on the Neimoidian.
"Excluded, Olee," I shook my head. "Ventress is dangerous. Guard Gunray. He is the priority target."
"But…"
"No 'buts', Padawan," I said with a frown. Unhooking the mask from my belt, I pressed it to my face. Barely perceptible clicks of the locks told me the armor had sealed. Icons of the setting computer flickered before my eyes. "Under no circumstances leave the prison cell. I will manage myself."
"As you command, Teacher."
Leaving the cell, I nodded to Alpha.
"Keep an eye on things here."
"As you command, General."
"We won't close our eyes, Jedi Knight," Captain Argus assured me.
"Yeah," I evaluated.
Moving toward the exit of the prison block, I opened a secret communication channel with Alpha, instructing him regarding the Senate commandos.
***
Destroying every living thing, the Chiss moved toward her goal. The clones, whom she killed with ease, finally realized they should retreat. Firing back, they deepened into the corridors, luring her after them.
The Venator's plan was in her head. Tann knew exactly where the prison block was located, and while the droid squads were tearing the ship apart, exterminating every living thing in their path, she was advancing toward the goal.
Rescue or kill.
Nothing else was in Gunray's future.
Kill. The Jedi's fate.
She would perform her task as she had done hundreds of times before. And no one would stop her.
Turning the corner, the girl stared in surprise at the figure encased in black armor. A cloak of expensive fabric covered his back and head, but one look at the lightsaber hilt gripped in his hands was enough for her to understand his affiliation. The only thing that bothered her was that she couldn't feel him in the Force.
"Jedi," the girl said melodiously, as if tasting the words, giving the opponent a traditional Makashi-style greeting. The very one taught to her by Count Dooku.
"Sev'rance Tann," came from under the helmet. "I was expecting Ventress."
"Not today," the girl smiled. "It's nice when enemies know you by face."
"Oh yeah, I've heard," the Jedi said. "How about we put down the weapons, have a cup of caf, and go home?"
Hearing such an unusual manner of speech, the girl burst into clear laughter.
"Really? Those will be your words?"
"And what, did you think I'd talk about the weather with a Dark Acolyte?" the Jedi chuckled.
"Tell me your name, Jedi," the girl asked. "So I can remember you."
"Rick Dougan," the Jedi gave a joking bow. "But that's unlikely to help you."
"Why?" she was surprised.
"Well, you know, girl's memory," he explained. "Whom you gave it to—you don't remember. How is Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo doing? Hasn't he tired of exile yet?"
"What?" the Chiss was taken aback. How did he know about him? "I will kill you, Jedi," she assured. "Slowly and with pleasure."
"I can't promise the same," the Jedi smirked. Then, activating a golden energy blade, he poked it toward the Chiss. "So are we fighting or going to drink caf?"
"You are already a corpse, Jedi," the girl promised.
"Well, talk about a surprise," the Jedi said dejectedly with a heavy sigh.
***
Tann began with a rapid approach to the enemy. His armor looked massive, and consequently, the Jedi was supposed to be clumsy.
Jumping at him, the girl delivered a slashing overhead blow in a jump, preparing to cut the insolent man in half.
The Jedi dodged with ease, covering his back from the glancing blow with a block. Spinning on his heels, he threw her further down the corridor with his left hand using a Force Push. Flying ten meters, the girl landed on her chest, from which the air literally escaped her lungs. The Jedi didn't hurry to finish her, approaching slowly, spinning the sword before him. The golden "figure-eight" allowed him to keep his distance and forced the girl to be the first to move to the attack.
The enraged Chiss woman rushed at the Jedi. The latter with ease parried the grad of thrusts and feints falling on him, breaking her sequences, and from time to time transitioned into a counterattack himself, forcing the girl to break the distance and exit the clinch.
The Jedi turned out to be good. Unexpectedly good. Refined fencing skills allowed him to literally stand in place and create an insurmountable defense before him, absorbing practically all of Sev'rance's clever sequences. This was irritating. And angry.
Concentrating, she pulled an astromech droid toward her that was behind the Jedi's back. In the hope of knocking him off his feet, she directed the droid under the enemy's feet. He only virtuously spun in place, ending up a meter from where the droid flew past. Now the Separatist commander herself had to dodge the projectile.
With a short roll, she narrowed the distance between them, thrusting the blade at the Jedi's face. Но лезвие с треском оказалось заблокировано его клинком.
"You will die," their blades crossed, allowing the opponents to see each other. "I don't know how you found out…"
Without further words, the Jedi swung his head and smashed the helmet into her face.
Blood splattered from her broken nose and flattened lip. The Chiss recoiled.
"You talk too much," the Jedi voiced a complaint. "What did you think I trained for?"
"You will definitely die," Tann allowed herself to draw from the Dark Side, concentrating it for a strike.
"Here we go again," the Jedi grew dejected. "Maybe I'll still buy you a cocktail, we'll sit, drink… Ouch, bitch…"
The talk caught the man by surprise. He was unprepared for the Push, thanks to which the girl was able to drop the knight to the floor.
With a triumphant shriek, she lunged forward, preparing to plunge her blade into the Jedi's chest.
Instead of defense, the Jedi went on the offense.
With a lunge, he knocked the opponent off her feet and pulled the confused girl toward him. As soon as her face was close, he smashed his armored gauntlet into it. After that, rolling, he jumped to his feet.
Tann rose. Slowly. Fatigue was taking its toll. The opponent turned out to be more than prepared. Strange for a Jedi. They are clumsy…
The Chiss thought with regret that she should have asked for backup.
"I don't want to kill you, Tann," the Jedi admitted. With a short passage, he returned to the side of the corridor, blocking her path to the prison cells. "Refuse to serve Dooku…"
"Never!!!" with a furious cry, the girl rushed the Jedi.
Dougan stepped aside, letting her pass. A massive kick reinforced by the Force gave the girl acceleration. Flying a dozen meters, she smashed into the end of the corridor. Pain clouded her mind; her strength was leaving her. The girl slid down the wall to the floor. Accumulating the Dark Side for a final surge, she watched the Jedi move unhurriedly in her direction.
"Who do you take after to be so stupid?" he asked. "Chiss have always been distinguished by a strategic cast of mind. You see that you cannot win. Surrender!"
"Never!!!" The Darkness found an echo in her. Letting it pass through her, she gave it an outlet through her hands.
Force Lightning gushed forward, branching and rapidly approaching the Jedi. He mechanically held the energy blade before him, but that didn't save the situation. Tann's rage was so great that the lightning tore the blade from his hand.
An energy shield flashed almost immediately. Then the thin silk cloak literally evaporated. The Jedi, twitching in convulsions, fell to his knees, then fell on his side, jerking in the Dark Side energy. Seeing his torment and hearing the cries coming from under the mask, Tann seemed to find a second wind. Her strength returned to her. The Darkness made her rise, taking cautious steps toward the convulsively shaking Jedi.
She didn't know how much time was needed to kill a Jedi, but with a practiced eye, she noted that his movements were becoming slower, dying down. A little more, one more moment…
"I told you that you would die," the girl said triumphantly, activating her own blade. One short thrust to the heart, and this opponent, a worthy opponent, would fall…
She stopped emitting lightning, took the blade with both hands, swung, preparing to plunge the end of the blade into the man's chest.
With a quiet groan, the Jedi raised a shaking hand, holding it out as if trying to protect himself.
"That won't help," Tann laughed triumphantly, lowering the blade…
***
"All CIS ships destroyed," the voice of the clone captain sounded on the comlink.
"The rescue mission failed," Olee stated, looking at Gunray's smirking face. Which, in the same second, fell. "It seems someone will still arrive on Coruscant."
"Padawan Starstone," Captain Argus, standing by the terminal, gestured for her to come. "Look!"
The monitor displayed an image from a camera in the corridor adjacent to the prison block. Olee stared with delight as her teacher fought the opponent with visible ease. Parrying blows, he moved like an elegant dancer, dictating the rules of combat to the opponent.
Now he smashed her into the wall on which the camera was mounted. It seemed just a moment more and the Jedi would emerge the victor…
"Noooooooo!!!" Tears splattered from the girl's eyes as she saw the mercenary's blade sink into her teacher's palm…
Activating her blade, Olee rushed forward.
Argus, smiling, glanced sideways at the clone remaining in the block. It was almost too easy.
Suddenly, his gaze was fixed on the screen. What was happening made the hair stand up on end in all even indecent places.
"To the Hutt," he muttered, taking a blaster from its holster. "I'm not staying here for a minute…"
***
She made a mistake, deciding to check why the blade wasn't going deeper. Slightly turning her face aside, leaning on the hilt with both hands, she screamed in horror.
The Jedi's face mask had fallen apart, and now a face disfigured by electricity, burned, with bursting skin, stared at her. And eyes glowing an amber color.
A powerful blow of the left fist to the head knocked the girl off the man. Her sword, clattering on the floor, deactivated.
"Alright, bitch," slowly, as if stretching stiff thoughts, the Jedi rose. Parts of the armor fell from his suit with a crunch, crumbling into pieces upon contact with the floor. Shaking hands betrayed the tension that reigned in this body. "You are finished."
The man crunched and crushed her blade's hilt underfoot. With a slight growl, he began moving toward her. At the same time, the Force around him, like a tornado, spun, ready to sweep away anyone who stood in its way. And inside the storm, he walked—immeasurably dark, with the clear intention to kill her, the Jedi. Who was not at all bothered by the fact that he was supposed to have died.
With horror, Tann stared at the monster moving toward her. Burned, tortured, but the Jedi walked toward her. In fear, the girl pressed her back to the wall. Somewhere to the right she heard the thumping of feet and saw the girl racing toward her with her blade at the ready. "Apprentice!", a thought flickered.
As soon as the girl was close enough, Tann snatched her from her place, throwing her at the charred Jedi who had just approached her, reaching out his hands to strangle.
The Padawan, like a launched projectile, crushed the Jedi. Tumbling, both fell to the ground.
Finishing him off was out of the question. Horror possessed her. He had survived her greatest rage. He had absorbed her energy blade. And after all that, he still had the strength to move. She felt an indescribable fear that was sucked, as if into a vacuum, into the aura of the Dark Side surrounding the Jedi. However, this was not a Jedi. This was a machine. A Sith droid saturated with Dark Side energy. And he hungered for her death.
Stepping over the bodies, the Chiss pulled the Padawan's blade to herself and ran. Perhaps for the first time in her life, she was running from her greatest triumph.
Rising to her feet, Olee, overcoming horror and disgust, felt for her teacher's barely perceptible pulse. Unconscious, with a wheezing voice, and a barely rising chest, he lay unconscious on her lap.
Fifteen minutes later, when the clones of the 204th Legion who had arrived to support Alpha saw this picture, they were struck not by the wreckage in the corridor. And not even by the commander's disfigured body.
A fragile girl, whom they all saw for the first time today, sat on the ice-cold floor of the corridor, pouring tears. The Jedi's head rested on her legs. Touching the ugly fragments of tissue and skin, the baked mess of blood and bone, the child murmured:
"Please don't die, please don't, Teacher…"