"Sir! I have excellent material for the evening prime time!"
"Besides words, is there anything else?"
"Of course, of course! I'm sending you the video file. Did you get it? This is footage from aboard the cruiser Salvation, which recently docked."
"... This... This is a Jedi?! I've never seen anything like it."
"Me neither, sir! That's why I came straight to you. You won't believe how it ends! He stopped a blade with his bare hands!"
"That can't be! Though... indeed, he stopped it. This is some kind of Jedi trick!"
"Sir, that's not all. I spoke with the crew—this Jedi is the very same one who utterly crushed the Separatists on Christophsis!"
"You don't say? My boy, this is incredible luck... We'll run it in the next broadcast..."
***
Olee looked impatiently at the doors of the ward in the Halls of Healing. Many healers had gathered there, and even Master Yoda himself was present.
The girl didn't know what they were talking about, but she understood perfectly well who they were talking about.
About her and her teacher.
Right now, he was in a bacta tank. The clone medics had placed him in an induced coma, administering a massive dose of painkillers. Alpha, like a slave driver, hadn't closed his eyes for a second while the doctors—clones and droids—stripped the remains of the armor and flight suit from the body.
She had been afraid to be present in the operating room. Her imagination painted an image of a disfigured body in her head. According to the medics, not a single intact patch of skin remained on the body. It had all burned, burst, hardened, or evaporated under the influence of the Dark acolyte's lightning.
They had delayed on Christophsis for exactly two hours—the time needed for the First Regiment to move aboard the Salvation. Local technicians quickly and efficiently repaired the ship's damage, after which the cruiser tore into hyperspace.
Christophsis, lying in ruins, could not provide proper aid to the Jedi despite its best intentions. Olee, whose world was splitting at the seams, could not find the strength within herself to decide what to do in this situation.
She was saved by that strange Mandalorian woman, Shae Vizla. As soon as she learned the matter concerned Knight Dougan, she took control of things. A dispatch for necessary aid was sent to the Temple. Ships from the self-defense fleet escorted them all the way to the capital, and the Jedi's condition was monitored by the best Christophsian doctors.
Looking at all this, the girl couldn't help but be surprised by how many people cared about her teacher's health. Of course, Alpha had told her that the Jedi had liberated Christophsis, spectacularly crushing the Separatist army and fleet. But such devotion... it was beyond her understanding.
Listening to the Force, only now—after three days of travel and a week here on Coruscant—did she realize that her teacher was different from other Jedi. Wandering aimlessly through the Temple when Vokara Che, in a fit of anger, would chase the girl out of the Halls, the Padawan couldn't help but notice how the Jedi's dwelling had emptied. Thousands of Jedi and apprentices were fighting on fronts across the galaxy.
They were losing. It was clear from snippets of conversation, from the news. The Republic Army suffered defeat after defeat. The rebellion that flared up not long ago on the planet Jabiim had tied down massive Jedi forces. No one could say for sure how many had gone there. But, undoubtedly—many. Skywalker and Kenobi were the ones who would lead the battle on that planet. However, even Yoda himself, in a conversation with Mace Windu that Olee accidentally overheard, was not confident in victory.
"Padawan Starstone?" Aayla Secura, well-known to most young Jedi, appeared beside her.
"Master Secura," the girl rose from the bench and bowed. "I was lost in thought; I didn't notice you approach."
"I gathered as much," the Twi'lek smiled, sitting down beside her. "Waiting for what Vokara Che says?"
"She seems concerned," the apprentice said. "Maybe he's taken a turn for the worse?"
"My acquaintance, a healer, says that on the contrary, everything is fine," the Jedi told her. "He is recovering, but he is still in a coma. That is what worries the healers. But they will figure it out," she assured.
"I feel that he is in pain!" Olee declared.
"Is that so?" Secura looked puzzled, first at the child, then at the locked door behind which Dougan lay. "And from where?"
"I... it's as if I can reach out to him," the girl tried to explain. "When I saw him like that, I was lost. He wasn't breathing, and his face... it was like one giant burn. I remembered everything they taught us about healing and directed the Force at him. And... and he began to breathe. I... I don't know why, but I felt how much it hurt him. He was in a rage. I felt it. I was so scared... And then the clones ran in and injected him with medicine."
"And then what?" the Twi'lek asked warily.
"He just went limp," the Padawan recounted. "And the anger, it all just disappeared at once... It was like the teacher vanished into the Force, but I could still feel him..."
The Twi'lek thought for a moment. The child was telling strange things. A Jedi in a rage? Vanished into the Force? No, she must have definitely mixed something up. She herself should be shown to the healers, but they were all primarily occupied with the wounded Jedi, of whom there were now more than a hundred in the Temple. Even the healer-apprentices were busy with treatment.
"There is no need to sit here every day," Secura decided.
"But what should I do?" the girl wondered. "The teacher is in a coma; they aren't giving me assignments."
"Is that so?" the Twi'lek smiled. "Maybe then you will accept my offer?"
"Which one, Master Secura?"
"The Council has instructed me to go with the younglings to Ilum so they can find crystals for their first lightsabers," she related. "I heard you were left without a weapon..."
"That's true," the girl looked away in embarrassment. "The teacher will kill me when he comes to his senses."
"Well, that's unlikely," the Jedi assured her. "I know him. Rick doesn't strike me as a despotic teacher."
"That's for sure," the girl confirmed. "He knows many things. Even the code of the Jedi ancestors!"
"Really?" the Jedi looked greatly surprised. "To be honest, even I don't remember it."
"I can tell you," the Padawan offered readily.
"Certainly," Secura promised. "So, what about my offer?"
"What if he wakes up while I'm in flight?" the girl wondered.
"You say you feel him," the Twi'lek reminded. "That means you'll feel it when he comes to. We'll send him a message from the ship."
"You are a genius, Master Secura!" the girl exclaimed, wrapping the Jedi in an embrace.
Stunned by such a display of emotion, Aayla found nothing better to do than pat the child on the head.
"You will become a great Jedi, Olee," she promised. "Provided you don't break a couple of my ribs right now, of course."
***
"You screwed up." It wasn't even a statement, just a statement of fact.
"Only those who do nothing make no mistakes," I noted. Then, seeing Valkorion's displeasure, I added: "I thought a lightsaber would be quite enough for protection."
The Emperor theatrically placed a hand to his face. "A facepalm performed by the greatest Force adept? Seriously? This is all blowing my mind."
"The energy of a lightsaber is not enough to completely absorb Force Lightning!"
"Your advice would be of more use if you gave it on time," I snapped.
The Emperor looked at me. Interested and threatening at the same time.
"Do not let your ambitions cloud your mind, apprentice. I am stronger than any living being and can destroy you with a snap of my fingers. An apprentice who is unable to act without regular supervision is a useless tool."
"Yes, Master," I bowed to the Emperor. His moralizing infuriated me, but I had overstepped with the open confrontation. I didn't know about the finger snapping, but I had no doubt he could well destroy me.
During my time in this body, I had accumulated questions for the Emperor. However, asking them now... was unwise. The Lord was displeased. Well, perhaps he would be more talkative when my successes were more... impressive.
In the meantime, I looked around.
We were standing at the top of a canyon. Around us was only a lifeless desert with rust-red sand. Massive figures and decorative patterns carved into the rocks... Ancient steps leading into the tombs of the Dark Lords...
The Emperor was projecting Korriban, the ancient Sith homeworld.
"You should train thoroughly in the use of the Force," Vitiate finally uttered. "Do not repeat your mistakes. If even this half-trained girl almost killed you, Tyranus—and especially Sidious—will leave nothing of you."
"Yes, Master."
What was the point in arguing? Both he and I understood that, like most adherents of Niman, I had limited my training with the Force, dedicating my practice with the Hands only to lightsaber duels. Honing my mastery in fencing, I had become so engrossed that I completely lost sight of the fact that the enemy already had trained acolytes in their assets who would find it easy to defeat me.
"Be careful with the Jedi," the Sith said after a silence. "Control over Christophsis is an important achievement, but it was executed crudely. The Order will surely have questions for you."
"I suspected as much."
"Then see to it that you do not attract attention!" the ghost barked. "The Jedi are strong in their mass. One collective, one goal, one dogma. You may be the greatest Force adept, but a group of less powerful adepts will be able to defeat you."
"I understand, Master." As if I didn't. All key battles of Jedi against Sith happened with numerical superiority of the former.
"Active operations must begin," the Emperor beckoned me toward him with a gesture. "The Republic is growing its clone army; the CIS is not lagging behind..."
"No production can compare to the power of the new Forge," I noted. "With its help, we will be able to build a droid army and a fleet that will crush both the Republic and the Confederacy."
"A commendable acquisition," the Emperor evaluated. "But a fleet needs crews, and an army needs commanders. Furthermore, once we step into the open, you will need trained warriors to oppose the Jedi."
"It seems to me you already have candidates," I said with a yawn. "What a coincidence—when the thoughts of teacher and apprentice are alike. He had candidates, and so did I. Excellent ones, for that matter. They just needed to be recruited."
"I do," he nodded. "Harth spent a lot of time tracking them down. But before you set off for them, you yourself still have much to learn."
"For example?" I inquired.
"Here, on Korriban," the Emperor pointed to the Valley of the Dark Lords, "a great power was once hidden. Many thousands of Dark Lords studied and died here. And they left behind dozens of holocrons and artifacts."
"Am I to find them?"
"You intend to create a new order," the Emperor sighed. "Not Sith. Not Jedi. Knights who will be stronger than their predecessors. What can you teach them if you yourself know little?"
"I understand, Master," humbly bowing my head before the Sith, I began to slowly reflect on my further actions.
"Wonderful, my apprentice," the Emperor smirked. "The main thing is to find and take these artifacts first..."
***
Watching the young knight come to his senses, Yoda thought with some relief that the hardest part was just beginning.
"Grand Master," Rick looked around and nodded to the green-skinned Jedi. "It's good to see you."
"And you," the Jedi grunted. "Good to see you, I am. How feel you, Knight?"
"I've been better," the man admitted. "Am I in the Halls of Healing again?"
Yoda nodded understandingly.
"Severely wounded you were," he poked a clawed finger at the Jedi's chest. "In battle with Count Dooku's Dark follower."
"Ye-e-ah..." the man drawled. He embarrassedly put a hand to his face. Discovering that there was no hair on it, the Jedi began to gently trace his fingertips over numerous scars. A couple of them crossed the left side of his face, making the corner of his mouth droop, making him look displeased with something.
"The Force Lightning destroyed all your skin," the healer intervened. A young woman had been silently monitoring the instrument readings until then. Yoda had only left her for this conversation. The other Jedi had left the room to go about their business.
Yoda noted for a second that the Jedi seemed to recognize the healer. However, that was possible—after the Battle of Geonosis, he had also been here.
"Oh," the Jedi said. "Am I to be a bald freak now?"
"There are some techniques..." the girl began, but Yoda unmistakably pointed to the door. The healer bowed and silently left. They would talk later. Their conversation brooked no delay.
"Your friends from Christophsis took good care of you," the Grand Master waved a hand, and one of the wall cabinets opened. Before the Jedi's face appeared armor hanging on mounts, looking exactly like the one destroyed in the last battle. Wrapped in sealed packaging, it looked brand new, though Yoda knew that was not at all the case.
"Strange," the Jedi said. "I don't remember asking for this."
"Different, the strangeness is," the Grand Master uttered, drawing attention to himself. "Why armor of Sith warriors for a Jedi?"
An awkward silence fell. Rick looked at the armor as if examining it, seeing it for the first time. But Yoda had lived for several centuries and understood that the man was merely looking for a plausible explanation.
The Council of First Knowledge had already found an explanation for the Jedi's pursuit of Sith artifacts. It caused most of the High Council to be horrified. They recalled his absence at the start of the war. The unnatural love of the people of the Christoph system (however, even the Shadows could find nothing here—the new self-defense forces identified Jedi scouts with striking accuracy and expelled them from the system).
Scouts on Rendili reported the construction of hundreds of ships identical to those in the Hammer fleet. But as much as one might want to draw parallels to the Jedi, the customer everywhere was listed as the Christophsis government. However, for many, these indirect proofs were enough. Mace, in his characteristic manner, demanded arrest and execution. He was supported by Plo Koon, Rancisis, Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, Gallia... The rest of the Council abstained. However, Masters Piell and Mundi hotly objected to such accusations. They were supported by the recently appointed Obi-Wan, who replaced Windu's apprentice, who was recovering, on the Council.
Vokara Che, who examined the patient's unconscious body, noted residual manifestations of the Dark Side in him. And the holo-recording... no matter how bad it was, no one could dispute the glow of the irises. The position of Windu's supporters was strong. The news of Dooku's servants who had fallen into darkness was too great a shock for the Order. And even more alarms were raised by intelligence about the Jensaarai order, who had rejected the Jedi Order's thoughts and left it. And as it turned out—only to secretly partake in the dark arts.
However, besides the accusers, there were also defenders. The Dark Woman, for example. The best of the Shadows, she was the only one who could visit Christophsis and return with a full report. She laughed out loud at the conjectures that Dougan had seduced the inhabitants with the help of Sith artifacts or sorcery. She encountered nothing but human passions and adoration of a hero. But she did not deny other evidence of the Dark Side either. The most reasonable explanation seemed to be that the Jedi used some of the Dark Side techniques. Or, at the very least, had knowledge of them. And in a critical situation, he used them to save his life.
The words of such an experienced Sith hunter undermined the Council's beliefs about the Jedi's fall to the Dark Side. After all, Windu himself walks the edge with his Vaapad. Meanwhile, many had fallen to the Darkness while using it. Plo Koon used Force Lightning. And there are many such examples. No need to go far—many Padawans noted a tendency toward the Dark Side in Skywalker. Yielding to his anger, he became stronger than his opponents. But after the battle, he always returned to the Light. Therefore, the Grand Master decided to act in his own way.
He fearlessly remained alone with the man to resolve the issues once and for all. If the Council of First Knowledge's fears were confirmed, the Jedi would not leave this room alive. Yoda thought bitterly that too often prominent members of the Jedi Order partook of the Dark Side of the Force. And this talented young man...
"It's strange that they only found out about this now," the Jedi noted, turning to Yoda. "Yes, it is Sith armor. I found several specimens on the black market and purchased them. Unlike the junk the clones are dressed in and that is sold on the market now, it serves, despite its age. Were it not for the cortosis coating..."
"No need for excuses," the Grand Master noted. "Concerned about your rage in battle, the Council is. Think you have crossed to the Dark Side, many Council members do."
"Excellent." The young man sat up with a jerk and stepped down to the floor. Swaying slightly, he leaned a hand on the cabinet. "If that's the case, why am I not in a dungeon yet?"
"With the Council's opinion, I do not agree," Yoda explained. He caught any changes in the Force within the room, but the Knight remained an impenetrable cold monolith. Neither emotions nor tremors in the Force. Clear cold resolve. Without a hint of the Dark Side. "I do not believe in your fall."
"Thank you, Grand Master," the Jedi bowed. "I understand that I was summoned to Coruscant precisely for the trial?"
Yoda smirked inwardly. This Jedi was perceptive.
"Many questions for you, the Council has, Knight Dougan," Yoda said. "However, none would there be if any of the Jedi could feel you in the Force..."
The man looked at Yoda with puzzlement. With great distrust. As if the latter had demanded something so personal of him that it bordered on outright rudeness.
***
"I'm not used to anyone reaching into my soul, Grand Master," he explained. "The less the gifted feel me in the Force, the emotions I control, the easier it is for me to remain myself. My enemies do not know of my sorrows and weak points. They do not know of my fears and cannot turn them against me."
There was a rational kernel in this, which Yoda appreciated.
"Oppose the Dark Side, you must," Yoda said instructively. "This, your mentors teach you. No enemies among the Jedi have you. Only the Sith. But not worth it are they, to close yourself from your friends and allies. How can friends support you on the battlefield, if in the Force they feel you not, hmm?"
"I am not used to counting on support, Grand Master," the knight explained. "Out there in the Unknown Regions, one had to rely only on oneself..."
"Not in the Unknown Regions are you now, hmm?" Yoda smiled. He hated doing it, but he was still manipulating his interlocutor now. Word by word, he seeped through his mental armor, using the rough spots in the defense. "Why hide?"
"I..." the knight stroked the place where hair used to be. "I didn't think about it... I will try to mend my ways so as not to cause more questions..."
"The right decision, that is," Yoda closed his eyes, concentrating. "To the Dark Side such techniques would lead him, but without them, determining the truth would be prolonged." However, the result justified itself. Doubts were dispelled. In today's Council session, he would dispel the attacks of Windu and his supporters. "Must not be alone in this difficult hour."
The Master looked up at the Jedi.
"As I see," he adjusted his cane more comfortably, "better you are?"
"Better than I was," the Jedi smiled.
"Then," the Master walked toward the exit, "sharpen your skills in opposing the Dark Side you must, Master Dougan. Your apprentice has departed for Ilum—accompanying Padawans together with Master Secura. In a week they should return. So you have a little time."
"As you say, Grand Master," the man bowed. Then, evidently running Yoda's words through his head, he raised his eyes to the latter. "Master?" he repeated.
"Actions of yours are worthy of praise," Yoda grumbled. The Council would be furious, of course, but that was why he was the head of the Order—to make such decisions. "Worthy of this rank, I consider you."
"Thank you, Master," the Jedi bowed his head. "I will try harder than before..."
Yoda smiled contentedly. This was roughly what he expected. This technique worked on everyone whose title was given with a small "advance."
"Not all, this is," Yoda took a small command cylinder from his pocket and handed it to the Jedi. "In the tactical room today, you must be. To discuss a new assignment."
"A new assignment?" the Jedi was surprised. "I thought it was just a pretext to invite me to testify at the Temple."
Yoda ignored the remark.
"Troubling situation in your sectoral army," he related. "Moff Bylur soon before the court will stand. A replacement for him has not been found yet."
"Few people want to drag themselves to the southern army, surrounded by pirates, Seps, and with Hutts next door," the Jedi continued Yoda's thoughts. "And Admiral Var seems to be managing..."
"Serious defeat we suffered over Ryloth," Yoda interrupted the Jedi. "The second in the last month. A commander for the army is needed—tough, talented, knowing no defeat. Otherwise, swept away we will be, and cut off from the home of the clones."
"Well, I don't know of such candidates," the Jedi spread his hands. "Unless maybe the Moff... Grand Master? Why are you looking at me so intently?"
With a sigh, Yoda thought that sometimes even the most talented people can fail to understand the obvious.
Leaving the Jedi, struck by the realization, alone, the Grand Master walked away unhurriedly. He had to endure a heated debate in the arena of the High Council. However, few would go against the Grand Master's will. Yoda saw Light in this Jedi. Yes, Darkness was present there too, but held in a vice, locked, immured deep in the soul. Controlled Darkness. Perhaps Mace would understand Yoda's feelings. The Force whispered to him, and Yoda, like any Jedi, was merely its servant. The Force is great in Dougan, which means the Order is stronger with him. How sad that this strength and self-control are lacking in the Chosen One.
Yoda sighed heavily. Skywalker. The hope of the Order. His face and the standard of a Jedi Knight. Sending him to Jabiim, the Council felt as if it was making a huge mistake. But besides Skywalker, Obi-Wan, and Dougan, there were no prospective candidates for the role of operation leader. Were it not for the battle with the Dark follower and the numerous claims against Dougan's candidacy, he would have been the one to lead the Republic army there. But the Force itself had ruled otherwise.
The second battle for Ryloth, led by acting Moff, Vice Admiral Var, had failed. Twenty-four capital ships were lost to the Republic. Almost all from the 13th Sectoral. In fact, this army now had only a third of the standard number of personnel, equipment, and ships in a sectoral army. And this was despite the fact that these figures for the 13th were doubled.
Yoda hated manipulating people, and especially Jedi. Those he taught, mentored, and introduced to the ideas of the Order. But war... it changed almost everything. The Council would have to accept his decision. Dougan's appointment, though not without hysteria from the Chancellor's office, would still partially resolve the shortage of soldiers and ships. Christophsis promised full support to Dougan? Ships, volunteers, and resources? Excellent. Now he is responsible for an entire army. Let those ships Rendili is now building for Christophsis serve the Republic.
***
This is not just a mess; it's a TOTAL MESS.
To the Hutt with rest! My hands are full of worries here.
Pulling on the armor, I noted with pleasure that my subordinates had also taken care of a cloak. Throwing it over myself, I felt the computer adjust the ancient Sith armor set to my body. An automatic medpac pricked me, injecting a dose of adrenaline, stimulants, and painkillers.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I almost pissed myself with fright. No eyebrows, with shredded eyelashes. The left half of my face looked as if I had exploded a grenade in front of it. Several deep furrows from unevenly healed epidermal tissues. A diagonal scar from the center of the forehead to the ear. A distorted mouth. Several dozen slightly red scars all over my head. A slightly squinted left eye socket—as if I were aiming through a sight. And a wide scar on the lower part of the chin.
Pressing the mask to my face, I allowed the suit to snap it into place and begin authorization. To the devil with it all. I won't be a freak. For now, I'll walk around in the mask, cosplaying Revan, and later—I'll restore the face.
However, I should restore not only that. My whole body is covered in scars and still hurts. It even hurts to breathe deeply.
My lightsaber took its proper place on my belt. And how was Yoda not afraid to meet one-on-one with me? What if I were truly Dark? Though... he almost chopped up Palpatine too; what is he to me.
There, in the cabinet, my personal pad was also found. Inserting my command cylinder into it, I immersed myself in reading. I had to wait for the armor to configure anyway.
"Well, Grand Master, you beast. I projected an image to you as a person. Saying there is darkness in a person, as in all of us. You should have let me go on all sides. No, you tossed me a task. Freak, with legs in your ass."
However, I was wrong to scold the Grand Master. In one short conversation, I was promoted twice. Now I don't have to wander all over the galaxy—sit on a planet, give orders, and let other Jedi execute them.
"Ah you..."
Wishful thinking.
A command cylinder is essentially a military man's documents. It contains information about his education, security clearances, authorities, awards, penalties, and so on and so forth. A service record in one hand. At the same time, part of the sections is classified. Well, as always.
Let's start from the beginning. Of course, my Jedi education and past are under secret here—for Jedi reading only.
But the military information... after entering my personal password, I cursed long and hard.
First and foremost, I am not the sole commander of the 13th Army. The Oversector and all the territories we defend within our sphere of responsibility are commanded by a civilian ruler—the Moff. His position has not been abolished, but there is no candidate for it. Therefore, for now, I alone in the 13th Sectoral hold the fullness of military and executive power.
And consequently, I do as I please. Within reasonable limits.
Each army has its own personal bank account. Payments to military equipment suppliers are made from it. Yes, for ships, equipment, ammunition, each of the twenty armies pays for itself. Only clones are provided to it for free—at the expense of the Republic budget. The rest—if you please, buy it yourselves. On one hand, it's good. You agreed with a supplier, gave him a little money, and the necessary stuff came to you ahead of everyone else. On the other hand—I'm not the only smart one in this galaxy. Oh, not the only one.
Don't even ask about the amount in the account—you can't look at it without tears. Where the hundreds of millions disappeared was for the Senate Investigation Committee to find out.
One thing is pleasing—unlike my Homeland, direct purchases reigned here. No bidding, auctions, and other charms of democracy. But there were enough opportunities for corruption too.
I could contact any representative of one or another weapons company approved by the Republic officials without restriction and talk with them about acquiring new equipment for the army. Unfortunately, the cylinder did not provide communication with the sectoral's computers; therefore, I did not know what the real state of affairs was in the sectoral army regarding material.
So, military command of the sectoral was entrusted to me. Naval, military operations. Well, and while the Moff is away—the resolution of civilian issues is also on me.
Well, the career growth is not bad, but how to build an Empire in such conditions? When you yourself have to pull an entire army out of its ass?
Enough, Rick, stop the panic. Let's think, let's reflect...
First of all, I tried to call Olee—I should tell the apprentice I'm alive. But her comlink was turned off. Secura's too. Most likely, communication is unavailable because missions to Ilum are usually secret—after all, it's a Jedi planet, and crystals for lightsabers are mined there. Therefore, its location is kept secret. I'm not a great specialist in the art of electronic warfare, but I think a ship can still be tracked by a comlink.
This armor did not have communication codes or other goodies that I had saved in the memory blocks of the previous set. Therefore, hiding the command cylinder in a belt pocket, I connected to the backup storage on the pad using another password, copying its contents into the armor's computer. Well, that's it: passwords, aliases, safe houses—I have it all.
Time to act, Master Dougan...
***
The Sith's hideout was located in the industrial quarters of Coruscant. There he could relax, shed the mask of Sheev Palpatine. It was from there that he maintained communication with Dooku and his other associates. But now... Now he had to be Chancellor Palpatine.
The Director of the Senate Intelligence Bureau, Armand Isard, had passed this information to him relatively recently, and Palpatine had not yet had time to review it. Today, according to the same Isard, the Loyalist Committee intended to use the recording during the next Senate session. Preparation was necessary.
Palpatine leaned back on the luxurious sofa in one of the rooms adjacent to his own office. All of them had been assigned for the Chancellor's needs since ancient times, and with Palpatine's rise to power, they were reinforced, strengthened, screened. Now his place of rest looked more like a bunker. All the better.
Meanwhile, an event was unfolding on the screen... From the very beginning, Palpatine understood what kind of battle he was to see.
Sev'rance Tann against the Jedi Dougan. Palpatine remembered with a smirk how he had almost betrayed his surprise seeing ancient Sith armor on the Jedi. However, then he had not attached importance to it—God knows what junk the Jedi could have kept in their warehouses.
But the battle... The battle that cost the Order a valuable trophy—the captured Nute Gunray. Dooku had mentioned only that they had managed to free the Viceroy. But without details. They did not interest Palpatine. What difference did it make if Sev'rance had removed that thorn in the...
Despite years of training and refined manners, the Chancellor rose from the sofa, seeing how the Jedi absorbed the energy of Tann's lightsaber.
Tutaminis! In its purest manifestation! The Jedi brat didn't even strain himself, stopping the blade with his wounded palm. On the contrary, he put it into circulation. Palpatine literally followed by the second how the Jedi, defeated by Force Lightning, received energy for his body and knocked Tann off her feet with a powerful strike.
One more time. The Chancellor put the recording on repeat.
The experienced eye of a fencer noted some roughness in the Jedi's actions, his leisureliness, some crudeness. Well, of course! Niman! He is sufficiently prepared—Plagueis had taught Palpatine everything he knew himself. Including the Niman style. And Sheev could bet half the galaxy that not a single living Jedi in the world could know these moves, sequences. The Jedi had been content for a thousand years with only the first level of Niman—the pitiful crumbs left for them by those who survived Ruusan. The Sith, however, had preserved their knowledge. And multiplied it.
Sidious followed the battle, forming his opinion. Undoubtedly, the boy is talented. He perfectly—as far as appropriate for a Jedi—controlled the fight. Monolithic defense. He had initially set a goal for himself—to exhaust the opponent, to unsettle her, to break her. A strange tactic, considering it is primarily a Sith way of fighting. Jedi, however, orient themselves toward a quick and decisive victory. Dougan, however, did everything differently.
Palpatine was shaking with anticipation. Only by the end of the battle did he realize that from the very first meeting, the Jedi had subtly, so that you would barely notice, weakened Tann. Every word of his carried the Force. Unfortunately, the recording could not convey this, but Palpatine was sure of it.
Dun Moch. A technique essentially neutral, but the Jedi, unused to ruses during battle, classified it as Sith. Idiots...
And this Jedi was no idiot. Not at all. Except at the end. When he presented the blade point to Tann instead of angling it so that the Lightning would hit it. A simple technique, but as practice shows—few Jedi knew it.
This one, however... knew much... Palpatine thought with a smile that the Jedi, who would undoubtedly study the recording, would hardly note how much the boy had put into this battle. Force Valor, Center of Being, just a little bit of Battle Meditation. Well, well, it looks like Slow was also used there. It wasn't for nothing that in his armor he turned out to be more agile than a more mobile opponent?
And finally, undoubtedly, Crucitorum. To endure such pain... That requires skill. Seeing how the Jedi fell, knocked down by his own Padawan, Palpatine was almost unsurprised to notice that the clones arriving at the site of the battle diagnosed the Jedi's vital signs. And they began treating his wounds with bacta. There is no doubt he survived. Something else irritated Sidious.
Morichro.
Were it not for the danger of being revealed, Palpatine would have thrown something heavy at the screen. Or incinerated the room with Lightning.
Bantha fodder. Where does the boy know this from? No, there is not the slightest coincidence in this. This is preparation. Thorough, persistent, lasting for years. Among the Jedi, only Yaddle possessed this Force technique that allows slowing down the body's life processes. But she died. Had she really been able to teach these intricacies to someone?
And yet it didn't look like anyone had taught him. Niman, although it surpassed the Jedi's knowledge, was still crude work. As if he had studied from a book. Regular sparring would have honed his movements—and then Tann would be lying on the floor, not him.
Palpatine growled, feeling that he had touched upon the reason. A holocron.
The boy had a holocron—perhaps an ancient, Jedi one, created even before Ruusan. This would explain the mastery of many Force techniques that are now either banned or unknown to the Jedi. What secrets could this holocron hold?
Palpatine, with a familiar breathing exercise, brought himself into a peaceful state. Dooku should be given instructions—to track down and finish off the boy. Take the holocron and give it to Sidious for study. But who could handle such an extraordinary Jedi?
Sidious leaned back on the sofa again, closing his eyes.
Everything should be analyzed. Problems of such magnitude should not be ignored.
***
The Council contacted me already after sunset.
With a brisk pace, I walked up the Temple steps, quietly whistling some melody.
I had done what I wanted. Perhaps even more than I had expected. Money, as in all times, had done its work.
Corellia, where my Defender is waiting for me. The executors, after speaking with an anonymous hologram, received assurances that the order for a hundred Defender-2s is in force. However, by their assurances, by the end of the eighth month of the war, the slipways can be loaded again.
Fresia, where the management of the Incom company wanted to hear my proposals. I should drop in here too.
By the way, the most interesting meeting happened here, on Coruscant.
Heading toward one of the most luxurious skyscrapers on Coruscant, I recalled everything I knew about this man.
Coming from a wealthy family. In his younger years, he organized his own exploration company and laid several hyperspace lines on the Outer Rim, discovered planets with rich mineral deposits, whose coordinates he sold to mining magnates. In his youth, he made a huge fortune on this and returned to his family, proving that he was worthy of being a part of it.
And now he headed the family business. A huge corporation that once led the market in starship construction, but now found itself away from the profitable pie. And even an acquaintance with Darth Sidious, for whose apprentice he had developed his personal starship, did not save the company from its current position. The Sith used him and threw him to the curb of history.
Not to say that Sienar was a bankrupt. The Clone Wars forced him to count his money more calculatedly. Need pushed Raith to trade on both sides—with the Republic and the Confederacy. While the Senate, generously fed by Sienar's bribe-givers, only wagged a finger formally. But, everything can change, right?
I contacted Sienar's secretary, named my account number, stating that its holder intended to meet with the management. The girl politely refused me... After half an hour of wrangling, during which I acquired ten percent of Sienar's shares in addition to my five, and sent a very interesting file to his mail, I was finally granted a meeting. Sienar. Personally. To the email address from which I sent him the file, only the time and address came.
A gatekeeper droid met me. Dismissing the taxi from the landing pad, it escorted me to a reception room deep in the penthouse. The droid pointed to a sofa, explaining that its owner would soon arrive.
Left alone, I allowed myself to look around.
The richly decorated living room combined luxury and practicality. Computer terminals, monitors built into the walls, models of spaceships placed on podiums throughout the room. And a massive desk of real wood, on the other side of which rose a chair so impressive that a person in it must have seemed tiny.
"You know..." the owner of the office appeared unexpectedly. "I expected many things. That the holder of such a large account would turn out to be a pirate, the head of a criminal group, a recluse millionaire, the ruler of some planet. But a Jedi... Excuse me, your name?"
"Jedi Master Rick Dougan," I smirked.
"Raith Sienar," the elderly man smiled, extending a hand to me. I shook it with my armored gauntlet.
"Well," the man took his place at the head of his desk. "Given that the Jedi created an army in secret from the Republic, it's no wonder you might possess such an impressive account number. The question is just, why would you purchase my shares?"
"There are no questions here at all," I chuckled. "I have an order... which didn't particularly impress your top manager. Well, I think you certainly won't refuse your shareholder."
"An order?" Sienar's eyebrows arched. His hands touched a touch panel recessed into the tabletop. "You mean this?"
A three-dimensional hologram of a triangular ship with a split bow and a low-slung bridge set toward the stern appeared over the tabletop.
"Exactly," I nodded. "A beautiful ship, don't you find?"
"Well..." Raith grew bored. "These are archival blueprints of an ancient battleship. The ship might have been good. Before. But now, in the era of automation... I'm afraid that despite its impressive armament, it won't be popular now. Of course, it could be modernized... But it's still easier to build a new project, a new ship. However, it's still money down the drain. The ship will be very expensive. It would be cheaper to buy Separatist battleships on the black market..."
"Don't you find the irony in that?"
"What kind?" Raith looked at me blankly.
Now it was my turn to reproduce holographic data. The head of the corporation only glanced briefly at the three-dimensional image of the ship.
"Yes... the Marauder-class corvette. Our development."
"Unclaimed, by the way," I reminded. "Although you and I know it's a beautiful ship."
"Who cares about our thoughts, respected Jedi?" Sienar laughed. "If we still end up with the Republic remaining clients of Kuat Drive Yards. You, my friend, as my largest shareholder, should also be concerned about this. I'm afraid you have invested your money quite unprofitably..."
"On the contrary," now it was my turn to smile. "I have a different view of the situation. I possess resources capable of returning profitability to our company. And clients in the Republic. However, and not only in it."
"For example?" interest appeared in Raith's gaze.
"As you know, the Grand Army of the Republic is divided into twenty sectoral armies. The command has decided that each of the armies independently acquires equipment for itself."
"And by purely accidental circumstances," Sienar added. "You can assist in the purchase of our products?"
"Assist?" I smirked. "Raith, may I use 'thou'?" The shipbuilder only made a gesture that meant little. "The 13th Sectoral Army is under my command, and it is experiencing a serious shortage of ships of all classes."
"Is that so," he smirked. "And that's why you decided to buy Marauders for them? Patching the holes at the front? I heard the 13th and 14th armies have been having a tough time lately."
"Isn't that a reason to resume production of Marauders?" I smiled. "On my part, I am ready to provide financing."
"I understand a conversation about kickbacks is coming now?" Sienar smiled. "I am ready to offer you up to 10 percent of the amount of each ship."
"I'm not interested in that," I shook my head.
The man looked at me in bewilderment.
"You will have another two percent from sales as the second largest shareholder," he added. "That's good money, Master Jedi."
"My friend," I allowed myself to smile. Though it was unlikely to be seen under the mask. "Kickbacks, bribes, and the rest—that's for Republic officials who only profit from the war. I, however, want to bring peace and order to this galaxy."
"Not bad for a single Jedi," Raith smirked. "But I'm afraid then you'll need a lot of Marauders..."
***
"And not only them," I nodded at the dreadnought hologram. Then, seeing Sienar's silence, I reproduced the Fury-class interceptor hologram. This forced the man to pull away from the back of the chair and lean forward, carefully examining the hologram.
"Once, this was a personal starship for Force-sensitive warriors," I explained, and the image changed again. "And this starship was in service with the very best scouts of an ancient state," Sienar looked with curiosity at the hologram of the X-70B Phantom-class prototype. "This ship," now the Terminus appeared before his eyes, "could control entire star systems alone."
"A striking archive of museum antiquities," Raith smirked when the holographs ended. "Some concepts are familiar to me..."
"Of course," I smirked this time. "You made a similar ship more than ten years ago. It was found during the lifting of the Naboo blockade..."
Raith only waved it off listlessly.
"Listen more to Senate scribblers and the yellow press," he advised.
"I know the truth, Sienar," I added more Force to my voice, drawing the man's attention. "But it doesn't interest me. I'll deal with the Sith myself. But I need your support. Your mind, your ion engines, and your solar ionization reactors."
"I see you know a lot," Sienar spat out.
"More than I would like," I admitted. "My knowledge and my plans will ensure a comfortable existence for your companies even now, not in the future. Your need to trade with the CIS will vanish. Trillions lying as a dead weight on the account will enter the company's circulation. And when the time comes, you can walk into the office of the Kuat Drive Yards management and take a dump on his desk. While the Harrower-class dreadnoughts modernized by you," I poked a finger at the dreadnought hologram, "are destroying the orbital shipyards."
"Ambitious," Raith admitted. "But why did you think I would help you and not report a crazy Jedi to the Order?"
"Mr. Sienar," I swept away the ship holograms, clearing the space in the office. "How tightly does the Banking Clan have you by the balls? Fifteen percent of the shares are theirs. How long will it be before they bankrupt you and let you go out into the world?"
"We have a good financial buffer," he noted. "We'll last as long as needed. All the more so," he smiled, "you just gave us several hundred trillion from your account."
"Let's just count, Raith," I smiled. "You and the Santhe family hold 25% of the shares each. The Muuns—15. And I, thanks to your stubbornness, own the remaining 35%."
"Impossible!" Raith jerked to the desk, bringing up the bidding information on the holographic screen. "Hutt! You are a bastard, Mr. Jedi!"
"I need you, Mr. Raith," I assured him. "I have returned trillions of credits to the company. You can buy back their miserable percentages from the bankers with which they control your supplies. Or you can wait until I do it. In any case—you will end up on my side. Whether you want to or not."
Raith sat, looking at me from under his brows. He was in a rage.
Sienar himself owned 70% of the shares until today. Seeking to get credits from the bankers, he had put 15% of his shares as a guarantee. The shipbuilder was not bothered by the giant interest rates. He was confident of success. And when the Republic kicked him in the gut and the Marauder didn't go into production, he parted not only with the shares but also with giant sums from the company's accounts. He had no choice but to let another part of the shares onto the market, just shortly before the Clone Wars. The fight had been brewing for a long time; therefore, there were chances that the shares would disperse among large clients. And big ones. But the Republic bet on Kuat and its resources. Sienar was left with nothing. And the interest was ticking...
Now, in essence, I owned the majority of the company's shares. Even if Sienar buys back the shares from the Muuns, he will still be behind me. Of course, together with the Santhe family—his relatives who control part of the company—he will be able to outweigh my shares and lobby. But it won't last that long. Especially since as soon as the Santhes find out about the sums that can flow into their pockets, the offer will be accepted.
And I'd bet my life that Sienar was thinking exactly about that.
"Raith," I said as softly as possible. "You were treated like a beast. The Republic. The Muuns. Even me. But I am extending a hand of friendship to you. And with it—Republic credits for the purchase of your beautiful machines. And my own, so that our company continues to develop."
"A limited purchase of Marauders will not save us," Raith finally said. "How many are you ready to take for your army? Two, three hundred? Good, that will give us on average five hundred million credits. That's not enough to get back the shares the Muuns hold. Without large orders, we will still be clutching at straws..."
"I have already offered you orders, Raith. You just need to take these schemes and modernize them..."
"Hm," Sienar bit his lip, peering into the dreadnought hologram. Then he grabbed it and decomposed it into parts with a movement of his fingers. "Suppose we can install new guns produced by Taim & Bakk that the Kuati are now putting on Venators. Immediately change the power system... Hm, what's this? Half the reactor room under the knife; this warehouse isn't needed either; the engines... Well, not bad for thousand-year-old junk, but my ion ones will be better... So, the generator will come out of the bottom here... We get a surplus on energy output. Hm... it can be put into shields. Oh, let's strengthen the anti-aircraft armament..."
I watched silently as the man before me, literally on his knee, corrected the blueprints of one of the best ships of the Sith Empire. Maybe he's right that in its original form the Harrower wouldn't have been able to handle Venators, but by all appearances, a completely different future awaited it now.
Raith whispered something to himself, correcting the schemes. It seemed nothing at all interested him, not even my presence. Thanks to the heavy curtains closing the office from sunlight, it was difficult to determine the time of day, but the sight was worth it.
Tony Stark of the Star Wars galaxy was sitting before me. And the perfect weapon was being born under his hands right now.
***
"... you didn't listen to my opinion earlier," Windu's voice reached me. "You are ignoring the Council now too. He cannot be trusted with this mission!"
"Masters," I bowed to the Jedi in the Jedi Temple operations center.
"Master Dougan," Yoda greeted me. "Come in. A task there is for you. Personal."
Besides him, the modest-sized room was filled by the bodies of Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, and Luminara Unduli. The latter, having greeted me with a warm smile, was cowed, noticing the fierce look of the Afro-Jedi.
I was still clad in Sith armor, which apparently infuriated Windu. Well, and not just him alone, it seems. However, Windu didn't even try to disguise his dislike for me. Well, he and I were not going to be friends. Following his gaze, I smiled.
He was looking at the legion emblem embroidered on the cloak. Well, what can you do if it's not given to him to think of such a thing.
"Dark times have come for the Republic," Windu said, nodding at the holo-terminal.
"Today, during a Senate session, a representative of Jabba the Hutt from Tatooine contacted the Chancellor," Unduli said. Beads of sweat rolled down my back. "Well, there we go! Here we are! And the day had been so good!!!"
"Unknown persons kidnapped his son," Tiin continued.
"That's not uncommon among the Hutts," I said. "Maybe I can find a way to get out of the mission? I just returned from the other world. And Dooku himself is behind the kidnapping there... I shouldn't be dealing with his dark followers right now. Let Skywalker handle it!"
"We believe it is the work of Count Dooku," Master Kolar said.
"And what is this confidence based on?" "So far, everything was unfolding like in the cartoon. But even there these Jedi statements were not justified."
"Jabba sent mercenaries to search for the boy," Unduli explained. "They all returned chopped to pieces by a lightsaber."
"Shit!" I cursed inwardly. "That witch Ventress is there! She'll definitely chop me into kebab."
"As I understand it, the task boils down to searching for the child and returning him to Jabba?" I clarified. As far as I recall, the Republic wanted to use the Hutt territory for its own purposes. As a transit zone, it seems.
"That is your part of the task," Windu said, as if cutting it off. "Master Unduli is to conclude an agreement with the Hutts on the provision of their hyperspace routes for our military caravans."
"Well," at least I won't have to mess with the Hutts. "Is there any additional information?"
"The Hutt gave us some information his mercenaries were able to collect," Unduli said. "They concentrated their efforts in the southern part of the Triellus Trade Route bordering Hutt Space. We believe we should begin the search for the child there."
"May I proceed with the task?" I inquired.
"No need to hurry, Master Dougan," Yoda said. "Scouting from Coruscant you can direct. Wait for your Padawan you should. And meeting with Moff Trachta is required. The Chancellor insists on it."
"Moff Trachta?" I was surprised. "Who is that?"
No need to ask why Palpatine is so interested in our meeting. The Sith decided to gather information about me through one of his people. No doubt. Moreover, the Moff's name is familiar. It seems he's one of the Emperor's best henchmen in the future. I'll have to be more careful with him.
"The First Sectoral Army is under his command," Kolar explained. "The Moff will help you settle into the post of sectoral army commander and share his experience."
"Which you, undoubtedly, need," Windu spat bile.
"Thank you for the concern," I bowed low, then left the room at a quick pace. Though I wanted to test the legendary Vaapad of the Afro-Jedi for strength. It was right that I didn't like him from the very beginning. Now he'll be nursing a grudge against me. Bastard.
However, that's already a secondary matter. I need to contact my people and visit the Moff. Maybe he'll suggest something interesting.
***
As soon as the door closed behind the Jedi, the Masters returned to the interrupted debate.
"I don't trust him," Windu stated. "No Jedi would allow themselves to wear Sith rags. I cannot feel him. It is not normal!"
Luminara rolled her eyes stealthily.
Master Windu possessed a unique gift—he saw shatterpoints through the Force. Everywhere. In a person, in metal, in a building... This skill had more than once allowed him to get out of the most difficult situations. It's clear why he's so infuriated.
The Grand Master had abused his authority for the first time. He had unilaterally determined the fate of Master Dougan, which put the Order in a conflict situation with the Chancellor's office—they were already looking for a candidate for the commander position, but the Jedi's decision did not impress them. Once again, politicians believe the Jedi are seizing power. So it was with the appointment of Master Ry-Gaul to the second sectoral, and with the appointment of Master Ki-Adi-Mundi to the fourth... What can you do—people still remembered the time when the Jedi ruled the Republic. And despite the recognition of past merits, they did not seek to allow the Order to regain political power.
However, none of the Jedi wanted that.
They became commanders by necessity. And few of them liked it. And some didn't like it most of all.
"I was able to penetrate his defense," Yoda cut off. "There is no uncontrolled Darkness in him. This Knight serves the Light. And the clothes... they are merely practical, nothing more. Lightsabers were also developed by the Sith. But we use them, after all. Have we become fallen because of that?"
Luminara mentally applauded the Grand Master. Lightsabers as the Jedi see them now were first invented by the Sith. After a bloody war, the Jedi merely adopted the enemy's experience.
"No, Master," Saesee Tiin bowed his head respectfully. "And yet his candidacy is very controversial."
"The politicians do not approve of him," Windu noted. "There are more outstanding candidates for this position..."
"Dispute my decision, have you decided, old friend?" Yoda said with interest. Windu was taken aback for a moment, then bowed his head respectfully.
"All the better," Yoda grunted. "Master Unduli, let us discuss the upcoming negotiations with the Hutts."
The woman smiled modestly.
"I agree with you, Master Yoda."