Settling onto the bed in the "Defender's" cabin, I closed my eyes and reflected.
The success of the Hands in their respective fields was pleasing — all without exception. The Force, along with my own memories, had allowed me to intervene in the course of events and prevent the Jedi attack on Korriban. It was terrifying to think what my carelessness could have led to if, during a conversation with Vette over an encrypted channel, she hadn't mentioned a Jedi squadron arriving in the Ardo system. Like a flash, visions of the battle for Korriban rushed through my head. And now, taking advantage of the speed advantage given to her by powering the dreadnoughts with "Isotope-5," the Twi'lek was rushing at full tilt toward Malgus, who was hastily gathering his forces to repel the attack.
Fortunately, they made it in time. Malgus informed me of his readiness to meet the enemy and the arrival of reinforcements with Vette's ships. There was no need to hint that not a single ship should leave the system. The Sith knew his business perfectly, and no surprises were expected here.
But, in every silver lining, as they say...
Despite the positive outcome for the Republic as a whole, things for the 13th Sectorial did not turn out in the most favorable way.
A week ago, nearly two hundred ships were preparing to join the ranks. Now, less than a third of them remained — and those were not in the best condition. The ships faced long repairs, despite the fact that the CIS was in a position to throw even greater forces at us.
And there were only two repair bases — Ord Pardron and Christophsis. Of course, most of the ships would be back in service in a week or two, but we still needed to hold out during that time.
Darill was already straining the army's intelligence to the limit, seeking to find out the Separatists' plans. In our situation, "forewarned is forearmed" was very true.
On the positive side, the Jedi had easily destroyed the CIS forces on Dressel. The "Ruusan Insurgents" were now boarding transports to depart for Rodia. Palleon had managed to stabilize the situation in space, but the clankers were rampaging on the planet's surface. The hastily organized local militia was holding on by a thread and urgently needed help from experienced and battle-hardened infantry units. General Rahm Kota's volunteer brigade was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Makati and Tigellinus, though they suffered significant losses, had won space superiority over Nexus Ortai. Unduli was leading a systematic offensive on the surface, which so far was successful. The enemy was making attempts to break the blockade, but without result.
The siege of Monastery was dragging on — despite carpet missile strikes from corvettes and landings that literally fell on their heads, the Seps were holding key objects of a deep-echeloned defense.
Losses... simply terrifying... As King Pyrrhus once said, "Another such victory, and we shall be undone." However, that's not an exact quote.
Damn it, nothing is easy...
"No one promised you easy victories, my apprentice," I opened my eyes to see the ghost of Valkorion, curiously examining my armor hanging on a clothing mannequin.
"Master," I stepped off the bed and knelt before the ghost, simultaneously activating "private mode," which blocked any possibility of recording or eavesdropping in my cabin.
"Your summons to Coruscant is no accident," the Sith stated. "You must be on your guard."
Hardly had the battle in the Christoph system subsided when I received an order — proceed to Coruscant immediately. The Council simply spread their hands — the summons came from the Judicial Department of the Republic Senate. No details were provided, but Darell whispered in secret that my trip was related to the ongoing case against the former Moff.
Strange, I honestly thought the case involving slave trading, corruption, and Baulyur's other "side jobs" would be hushed up. After all, the officer had influential patrons. And considering the corruptibility of the Senate...
Alpha and Balda, by habit, formed my guard. The permanent Iokath pilot was working magic in the cockpit, while Olee and Shae were training on the lower deck. The Mandalorian was not against stretching her bones by training the Padawan. Well, the latter wasn't really asked — the girl didn't understand it, but such an opponent as Mandalore the Avenger, who hunted Jedi in times when Starstone wasn't even in the plans, was hard to find.
Therefore, under the thunderous laughter of the red-haired beast, the young Jedi was hitting corners and getting bruises.
"I see no threat to myself," I had to admit. "My actions as Moff are too insignificant for the Sith Plan for them to pay attention to me now..."
"One must not underestimate Palpatine's foresight," Vitiate warned. "Individually, your actions are not a threat. However, he sees the picture as a whole. Your popularity is growing — and soon it will eclipse the fame of his protege."
"Skywalker?" I clarified.
"Precisely," the Sith agreed. He looked down at me. "The Sith Plan places a large stake on the Chosen One — you know this better than anyone. He is the key to the Order's destruction."
"He is extremely loyal to Palpatine," I continued. "Essentially, the Chancellor has replaced his father. He keeps the Jedi's secrets, feeds his ego..."
"Learn to look several steps ahead in others' plans," the Emperor said with emphasis. "Your 'unexpected' invitation to Coruscant makes you vulnerable, dependent. You must be ready for battle."
"I don't think I'm ready for a battle with Palpatine," I admitted. After a pause, I added. "I don't think anyone is ready... except you, Master."
Valkorion gave an approving grunt.
"You have assimilated the knowledge you received from Kun's ghost," he concluded. "It is time to increase your power."
Oho... something new.
"How, Master?"
Valkorion, with his hands behind his back, began to pace the cabin.
"About seven thousand years ago, a group of dissident Jedi were exiled from the Order. They were defeated and cast out. At the end of their journey, they arrived on Korriban and subjugated the pureblood Sith."
"The Twelve Exiles..." I recalled. "The Hundred-Year Darkness..."
"Precisely," Valkorion confirmed. "One of them was Karness Muur."
Something clicked in my head.
"The owner of the talisman that turned living beings into rakghouls," I showed off my knowledge.
"I am glad your memory does not fail you, my apprentice," the Emperor praised. "Are you familiar with the talisman's further fate?" I shook my head. I wasn't enough of a fan to remember such details.
Receiving my answer, the Sith continued.
"Muur was killed by other Sith. His spirit remained bound to the talisman, which for three thousand years was passed from owner to owner. Ultimately, about four thousand years ago, the talisman fell into the hands of a member of the Jedi Covenant — Jedi Master Celeste Morne."
"I think," I said, "I remember... The Jedi Covenant — a secret organization that sought Sith artifacts to prevent the Sith's return."
"That is correct," the Emperor nodded approvingly. "Celeste placed herself in suspended animation to break the influence of the ghost urging her to the Dark Side. And now, she lies in the depths of an ancient Sith stasis ark, waiting for you to come and take what is rightfully yours."
A short silence followed, which I broke.
"Is Muur's ghost our target?"
The Emperor smiled with only his lips.
"Muur's power in life amazed his contemporaries," he said. "He proved to be adept in Sith magic — especially in healing techniques. Absorb him — and you will be one step closer to your goal."
"How do I defeat this ghost, Master?" I inquired. "Where should I look for the ark?"
"The ark awaits you on the planet Jebble, near the Mandalorian sector," the ghost approached and placed his right hand on my shoulder, causing goosebumps to run down my back and hundreds of needles to pierce my spine. "Muur is exhausted by millennia of sleep and struggle with the Jedi's mind. Overcoming him will be easier than Exar Kun. And he, in his time, was blessed by Marka Ragnos himself."
"It will be done, Master," I looked into the ghost's eyes without turning away. The latter, seeing, or rather sensing in the Force, how I accepted the pain, allowing it to spread throughout my body, making my nerve endings tremble with tension. As if in a crucible, the pain almost instantly transformed into rage.
"Excellent," the ghost smiled, removing his hand. The pain left, but the rage... "You should prepare for the encounter with Muur's ghost. Use all your strength, apprentice."
"Victory will be ours," I returned the Emperor's smile, after which the ghost faded away.
Sighing, I walked over to the mannequin and began to put on my armor. The rage demanded an outlet.
***
"He is certainly impressive," Count Dooku said, enunciating every word.
Unmoved, like a stone statue, a few meters in front of him at the top of a passenger sloop's landing ramp, stood a Dathomirian Zabrak whose black-and-yellow skin, despite the midday sun caressing the surface of Serenno, seemed to absorb the light.
The need to find a new assassin became acute after the disappearance of Asajj Ventress and Sev'rance Tann. Both acolytes, despite excellent training and solid experience in hunting Jedi, did not return from a mission on Teth. The encounter with Jedi Dougan had interrupted their victorious march, just as it had thwarted Darth Sidious's plans.
"Savage Opress," Mother Talzin said with pride in her voice.
The Dathomirian witch, head of the Nightsister clan from which Dooku's previous apprentice, Ventress, had come, watched with a triumphant smile as the hereditary Count of Serenno, leader of the Confederacy, fastidiously examined the Zabrak like a mount. With a light gesture of her hand, she beckoned him.
Inevitably, like the Force itself, the alien, shifting his massive vibro-ax for comfort, descended and stood before his future master. No sooner had his last step faded than the ax, guided by a powerful hand, slammed into the permacrete of the landing pad with a crash. Looking up, he stared at Dooku without fear, with a quiet growl, towering over the Sith by a full head.
The former Jedi, glancing down, only gave a satisfied grunt at the sight of the numerous cracks in the indestructible building material.
"He is the fiercest of his kind, my lord," the witch informed him. Then, with a slight bow, she added, "He will serve you well, Count."
"Yes," Dooku smiled hungrily. "He will serve..."
The Zabrak dropped to one knee, bowing his head, which was crowned with long, pointed horns.
"Follow me, Savage," he commanded, turning his back on the guests. "That is all, Mother Talzin."
Glancing from under his brow at the receding figure of the Count, the Zabrak easily returned to his original position. Paying no attention to the Dathomirian witches returning to the boarding sloop, he followed his new master at a quick pace.
Drawing level with the Sith, the Zabrak matched his unhurried gait, following the human in silence. On the edge of perception, he felt the Dathomirian witches return to the Separatist ship that would take them back to their home planet.
"Mother Talzin thinks highly of you and your talents," Dooku broke the silence. "But I require a demonstration of your combat skills," the human took a small infochip from his pocket and handed it to the acolyte.
"The Republic is fighting a battle on the planet Monastery," Dooku began his briefing.
"Monastery?"
"The name means nothing," Dooku cut him off. "It is a fortified outpost where the Confederacy established a refugee camp to protect them from the Republic army. The Jedi launched a massive strike on our fortifications, but we managed to repel them. Unfortunately, they managed to capture our relay center. Once they crack our encryption, the secrecy of our troops' communications will be forgotten. Proceed to Monastery and destroy the relay. No mercy. To no one."
"It will be done, my lord," the Zabrak stopped in his tracks just as the man halted before the steps of his luxurious palace.
"A ship awaits you on the landing pad," the Sith said. "It will take you to Monastery. Once you return from a successful mission, your training will begin."
"As you command," shifting his weapon for comfort, Savage Opress headed toward his target.
***
As soon as the Republic Star Destroyer strike group materialized in Korriban system space, Jedi Master Eeth Koth felt the presence of the Dark Side.
Standing on the bridge of the flagship "Venator," which had recently come off the slips, the Zabrak concentrated in the Force, trying to look into the future. Through the prism of the Great Force, he felt two more "Venators" and as many "Acclamators," filled to the brim with clone infantry units following his ship, forming into a defensive order, awaiting further orders.
Korriban. A sinister planet, devoid of vegetation, home to the Sith race that brought only pain and suffering to the galaxy.
Being hundreds of thousands of kilometers from its surface, the Jedi could feel the stench of the Dark Side emanating from the desert planet. In all his time as a Jedi, he had never been to Korriban until now. Such close proximity to the other side of the Force... was confusing, but he was a Master for a reason, to resist evil.
Years in the Council had hardened the Zabrak, preparing him for encounters with all sorts of troubles. Then, almost eleven years ago, he was present at a High Council meeting when Qui-Gon announced the return of the Sith. He had seen with his own eyes the concentration of the Force in young Skywalker. The young Jedi had grown up, becoming one of the best, maybe even the best Jedi in the last thousand years...
"Scanners are detecting a bulk freighter in the system," one of the clones reported. "Registered to the Xi Char Engineering corporation."
"A conglomerate producing equipment for the Confederacy," the Jedi Master recalled a line from intelligence reports. Curious. Isard's department had reported that the Xi Char had left the Separatist ranks... And now, their ship was discovered in the orbit of an ancient Sith world. Records of Korriban, along with the coordinates of dozens of other worlds like Kamino, had been deleted from the Order's Archives. The Jedi was ready to bet that the presence of a starship of one of the CIS supporters, with the Sith behind them, only confirmed the latter's involvement in interfering with the Archive files.
Sending him on this mission, Grand Master Yoda had warned Koth that the Sith had likely returned within the Stygian Caldera. This was not part of the Republic's plans. The Council could not allow an enemy to have a bridgehead in a section of the galaxy protected by natural barriers, where they could establish the production of battle droids without any problems. And they had no right before the face of the entire Galaxy.
Tactical monitors were full of information. Life was in full swing on the planet; huge construction droids were moving about, apparently extracting ancient Sith buildings from the depths of sand and oblivion.
"It seems our opponent has decided to establish a base here," the Jedi muttered, addressing the starship commander. The clone, like hundreds of thousands of his second-generation brothers, served the Republic faithfully, ready to execute any of the general's orders. "Obi-Wan's vision proved true."
"Launch the fighters, Captain," the Jedi decided. "Establish a communication channel with the freighter..."
"We are being hailed, General," the clone interrupted the Zabrak.
And indeed, over the surface of the holographic communication terminal appeared a ghostly figure, with a hood pulled over their head, hiding the speaker's face.
"I am Senior Jedi General Eeth Koth," the Temple guardian introduced himself without much ceremony. "Your ship is in a restricted zone, according to..."
"Jedi..." the figure responded in a raspy, clearly synthesized voice. "Eeth Koth, as it happens, in person. I was waiting for your arrival."
"You know who I am," the former Master didn't even bat an eye. "So you know why I am here."
"I have looked forward to your arrival," the figure rasped. "The Master warned me of your intrusion..."
"Master?" Eeth Koth was surprised. "Then you are a member of the Sith Order!"
A bubbling sound came from the speaker, only distantly resembling laughter.
"Without a doubt, I once belonged to them," the Zabrak was ready to swear by the Great Force that the speaker was smiling.
"What about now?"
"Now I am something more," the hooded figure said firmly. "Neither Sith nor Jedi..."
"Then what?" Koth was genuinely surprised. He certainly knew that there were dozens of Force-sensitive groups in the galaxy that did not align themselves with either of the ancient opposing orders.
"Something more," the speaker said defiantly, slowly removing the hood. An absolutely bald skull, scarred by dozens of long-healed wounds that had turned into old welts. A network of veins covering the head pulsated in time with the words, even on the hologram. A face hidden by a massive respirator mask that distorted the voice. And deep-set eyes glowing with amber light. "I am Darth Malgus, Hand of the Emperor. And your doom..."
The man, in whom the Zabrak surprisingly recognized an ancient Sith, cut the connection. And before the Jedi could say anything, the air in the cockpit was filled with battle alarm buzzers and the anxious voices of clones excited by the upcoming battle. The first in their career.
"They are jamming our communication!"
"Enemy ships on scanners..."
"But there was no hyperspace jump!"
"They are launching fighters! They aren't in our databases!"
"Archive records indicate they are 'Harrower'-class dreadnoughts and 'Supremacy'-class Sith interceptors!"
"Old stuff from the time of the Great Galactic War?" Eeth Koth asked. Is this a joke? These ships belong in a museum!
What is even happening? An ancient Sith at the head of six equally ancient dreadnoughts is trying to destroy his squadron consisting of state-of-the-art ships?!
Meanwhile, the clones, guided by orders implanted in their subcortex during the maturation phase on Kamino, took their places according to the battle roster without fuss.
The position proved not to be the best. The Zabrak realized with a quiet growl why Malgus had stated he was waiting for the Jedi's appearance.
Three "Harrowers," materializing from the blackness of space, surrounded Koth's detachment in a semicircle, while two others completed the encirclement, clearly aiming at the "Acclamators" closing the formation. The sixth dreadnought, clearly the flagship, hovered above the first three.
The Sith ships, continuously ejecting dozens of interceptors from their hangars, began ranging fire, pinning down the numerically inferior "Venators."
The icy void of space was filled with turbolaser streaks from both sides.
The battle for Korriban had begun.
***
The trap snapped shut as soon as the "Borodino" and "Orel" came from the rear, surrounding the Republic ships.
The dreadnoughts, following the deadly calculations of droid commanders, proceeded to systematically destroy the Jedi forces.
"Weren't you being a bit dramatic talking to that Jedi?" Vette inquired.
The Twi'lek, standing to the right of the former Sith Lord, watched the unfolding battle from the bridge of the flagship "Striking Hand." The wedge-shaped hull of the Sith destroyer, like a giant arrow aimed at the very heart of the Republic order, showered the lead Jedi ship with crimson turbolaser volleys.
Numerous turbolaser guns from armored turrets continuously sent their lethal cargo, literally vaporizing armor elements and technical superstructures on the enemy flagship. Less than ten minutes had passed before one of the matte red armor shutters protecting the "Venator's" hangar cracked, throwing hundreds of pieces of debris into the vacuum.
"The Jedi is confused," Malgus rasped, greedily staring at the battle scene. "He did not expect to meet an ancient Sith on his path. Now, no matter how he calls on the Light Side of the Force for help, there is fear and misunderstanding within him."
"Hah," the former companion of the Emperor's Wrath smirked. "Since when do you not just charge straight in?"
"Since there is no need for it," Malgus snapped.
Along with two battalions of stormtroopers cloned on Yavin 4, unconditionally loyal to Vitiate's apprentice, Vette had delivered nearly three thousand clones to Korriban for the crews of the "Striking Hand" and numerous interceptor squadrons that had been gathering dust in the dreadnoughts' hangars.
Without the slightest fuss or complaint, the new crews took their places on board the flagship and in the interceptor cockpits with enviable professionalism, giving additional strength to Malgus's contingent. Which the Republicans were now experiencing for themselves.
It took Malgus less than a month to take control of most of the worlds within the Stygian Caldera. The Skyborn, knowing no fatigue or mercy, first subjugated Korriban with its few residents to the power of the future Empire. Next came Ziost, whose surface had not been stepped on by a human for several thousand years.
Further, the conquests grew like a snowball.
Ashes-re, where during the time of the Great Galactic War, Malgus and his warriors had already established the Empire's dominance.
Athiss, where Malgus's mechanical army had to face the fanatical followers of Vodal Kressh, whose tomb, sealed by the Emperor himself, waited for the moment Dougan would visit this world to seize its secrets.
Bereghen. An inexhaustible source of precious stones, now destined to fill the treasury of a new master.
Bosthirda, where Darth Zidrix had once raised a rebellion against the Emperor. The Dark Temple on the planet kept ancient secrets that would never fall into the hands of modern Sith.
Ch'hodos, whose ruins of an ancient Sith base became the foundation for Malgus's operational headquarters and a place for stationing the main forces.
Jaguada, whose population, despite sympathy and a small CIS garrison, became another legitimate prize of the ancient Sith with no small effort and mass executions.
Khar Shian. A moon of a planet no less significant for the Sith, where the true fortress of the ancient Sith Lord, Naga Sadow, was located. Despite the fact that capturing the ice-covered moon with impassable mountains proved easier than many other worlds, Khar Shian was guarded by a full battalion of Skyborn whose primary task was to protect the ancient fortress from possible looters.
Khorriz, whose only fame was related to the creation of the legendary Garu battle blade. A barren planet which, nevertheless, had rich mineral deposits in its depths. Like the worlds in the Bhargebba systems, where the legendary ultrachrome and trimantium were once mined, Nfolghai, literally oozing with aurodium and desh, Savek, in whose depths an inquisitive gaze could find neuronium so rare in the galaxy, Swolten, the home of rhyolite that gave alchemical swords eternal sharpness. And frankly speaking, in the Horuset system where Korriban was located, in endless asteroid belts as well as in the depths of the 7 moons of the Sith homeworld, one could mine electrum, bronze...
Hallion, once densely populated by humans, rich in obsidian and decorative spheres mined from huge lava fields covering most of the planet, was a deserted planet with several thousand natives who had degraded to a primitive level at the time of its occupation. Subjugating them was no trouble. It was here that a unit of "Xi Char Engineering" settled, seizing the ruins of an ancient factory of the "Yuxicol" droid production company. Despite the hot climate polluted by volcanic emissions, the Xi Char erected their workshops and conveyor lines with unprecedented fanaticism. Not submitting to Malgus, the insectoids occupied the planet, shamelessly seizing blueprints for ground combat equipment of both Vitiate's Empires, collectively discussing modifications and improvements. The Sith was fortunate to observe a semblance of a meeting of the aliens. Despite the distance separating their groups on Zakuul, the New Forge, and Hallion, the Xi Char exchanged collective developments that were to be embodied in metal in different corners of the galaxy.
Drezzi. A planet that once swore allegiance to Darth Nyriss, languishing in internecine wars for millennia, incited by Republic agents since the time of the Galactic Wars. Ancient mines in asteroid belts and on lifeless planetoids once brought ancient Sith unheard-of wealth, which the Republic did not want to seize, or could not due to the system's remoteness. Considering the abundance of human resources on the planet, in the future, it would become an excellent source of taxes and recruits.
Krayiss II, in the same system. A place where ancient Sith studied magic and alchemy. Ancient knowledge in fragile manuscripts guarded by the ghosts of long-forgotten Sith Lords — another precious stone in the new Emperor's collection.
Nicht Ka. A barren world, drenched in continuous ammonia rains. It was of interest in neither strategic nor any other terms, if not for an ancient hexagonal structure which housed armor forged by an Onderonian smith that once belonged to the Dark Jedi Warb Null. Only the lack of clear instructions regarding this monument of ancient history prevented Malgus from wiping the building from the face of the earth.
Very little remained before all the worlds of the Stygian Caldera bowed before the might of their new master.
Rhelg. Another sacred world that once flourished under the rule of Sith Lord Ludo Kressh. Fertile, unprofaned by Jedi footsteps, it was destined to become a jewel in the new Empire.
Khar Delba. An ancient world whose only landmark was the ruined and time-worn fortress of Naga Sadow. To Malgus's surprise, the few Massassi, who had not devolved over thousands of years, fiercely repelled any attempts to capture the planet, but with the arrival of stormtrooper reinforcements, the Hand planned to bring this world to its knees as well.
Kalsunor, inhabited by creatures of the Dark Side — silutes — remained a tough nut to crack for the invasion army so far. Bred by ancient Sith using alchemy, these giant beetles literally dissolved unwelcome guests, destroying a Skyborn landing party sent to conquer the planet in a matter of hours.
The Dromund system, where the Sith Empire once rose from the ashes. Five worlds from which Vitiate began to build his new state. Malgus had asked Dougan for permission to strike the runts who had settled in the sacred Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas more than once or twice, but always received a refusal. And therefore, the abandoned but still usable mines of Dromund Isk, which were the key to the lightning-fast construction of the Empire; the orbital shipyards of Dromund Kalakar, requiring serious repair but not destroyed, from whose slips "Harrowers" and "Terminus"-class ships once came; Dromund Fels, in whose dungeons since the start of the Great Galactic War hundreds of Jedi and Republic generals found their doom; Dromund Tyene, in whose underground casemates soldiers of the Empire's elite units underwent ruthless training, were waiting for their hour. For some reason, Dougan did not want to destroy the pathetic followers of Darth Millennium with one lightning strike. But that did not stop Malgus from leaving scouts in the system.
With each new world, conquests became more difficult, which was due only to the reduction of the military contingent. Now, when Yavin 4 was steadily turning out a battalion of stormtroopers every two weeks, and the New Forge in the depths of the Xi Char bulk freighter was delivering endless rows of Skyborn, the final subjugation of Sith Space was not far off.
Vette, by the way, did not sit idle. The reinforcements arriving for Malgus had already undergone their baptism of fire. The "Borodino" and "Orel" had landed troops on Vaal and Kashyb, taking full control over the planets. Thanks to her reconnaissance in the Gordian Reach systems, the movement of Koth's squadron became known.
Of course, resistance on the planets she captured was minimal, but the very fact that new fertile worlds had appeared in the Empire's composition, capable of becoming sources of minerals and food — could not but please.
Returning to the battle, Malgus noted with satisfaction that the number of Republic starfighters had been reduced by nearly half. The bulky and heavily armed ARCs and V-19 Torrents could not fight on equal terms with the nimble Sith interceptors. Of course, the ISFs did not carry any heavy weapons, and their shield cover left much to be desired... But in space combat, speed and the ability to shower the enemy with frequent volleys sometimes mean more than heavy armor and powerful guns.
Staring at the battle scene, Malgus thought with inner satisfaction that it was for good reason the Sith interceptors were highly valued by Dougan, who prophesied a great future for improved ISFs in the Empire's fleet.
One of the "Venators" burst into flames, covered by a network of internal explosions. Being on the far left of the Republic Star Destroyer wedge formation, it was subjected to concentrated fire from the "Sevastopol" and "Poltava," which stripped its deflector protection in less than half an hour. The concentrated fire of two "Harrowers" easily pierced the Star Destroyer's hull, causing a series of detonations in internal spaces.
Meanwhile, the "Borodino" and "Orel," busy disabling a pair of "Acclamators" since the start of the battle, succeeded in their endeavors. The flame-engulfed assault cruisers, deprived of decent rear protection from the very first minutes of the battle, were in a vulnerable position.
With smashed engine nozzles, the first-series "Acclamator" ships now posed a threat only from the front, where the "Harrowers" were in no hurry to go. Methodically targeting and destroying the ships' firing points, the "Borodino" and "Orel" mockingly closed in on the Republic ships from the stern, proceeding to the second part of Malgus's plan.
For all their merit, the "Harrowers" were ships of the line whose role was space combat, not the transport of troops and heavy equipment. The "Acclamators," despite the proud classification "assault cruisers," were still nothing more than large landing ships, successfully designed for transporting ground forces and delivering them to the surface of attacked planets.
Dougan followed these same considerations when forming his squadrons — one flagship capable of transporting troops, surrounded by escort ships capable of imposing a line battle on their opponents.
Therefore, carefully preserving the integrity of both "Acclamators," the pair of "Harrowers," opening their hangars, landed troops onto the Jedi ships' hulls. The prizes were intended to be used in subsequent operations — after their repair.
"The flagship 'Venator' is damaged," a clone dressed in a black naval uniform approached Malgus and Vette. In appearance, he was no different from the soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic, which was not surprising, considering that Dougan had used genetic material stolen from Kamino to create his clone army. On the shoulders and sleeves of the clone's tunic were gold patches, but Malgus did not consider it necessary to delve into the new system of military insignia. At least — until the end of the battle.
But at the same time, the Empire's clones differed from their brothers in accelerated growth, as well as undeniable loyalty to their leadership. The geneticists from Kamino, without thinking twice, for huge amounts of money, programmed the new clones for absolute obedience. Vette reported this, not without pride, of course — the program for creating clones for the army and fleet was her brainchild. Malgus, who planned to recruit a crew for the "Striking Hand" loyal personally to him, could only silently accept the accomplished fact. Of course, no one said it openly, but the Sith was ready to swear — if he were to do even one thing against Dougan's will, the crew would tear him apart, no matter how many of them died in battle with the Sith.
But he was not going to act against his master. The Force bonds, the damn Jedi slave network with which Vitiate's apprentice had bound the Hands to himself, along with psychological suggestions, did not allow the Sith warrior to resist his master. Which drove the freedom-loving Malgus into a rage. But even the power of the Dark Side could not break the chains of Sith magic that bound his mind.
"Vette," he addressed her. "Prepare the 'Fury'," the girl had arrived on the Sith flagship in an interceptor. "We will take a detachment of Skyborn with us and land on board the Jedi destroyer. Captain," he glanced at the clone. "Bring the dreadnought closer to the flagship and direct the Skyborn to capture the ship."
"It will be done, my lord," the clone placed his clenched right palm over his heart and silently stepped away from the Hand, executing the order.
"Are you serious?" the Twi'lek whistled. "In the heat of battle? There are about seven thousand clones on board. We have no chance, blockhead! They'll finish us as soon as we reach the hangar..."
"In the Temple on Coruscant, there were more than three hundred perfectly trained Jedi," the Sith rasped. "We were fifty. We cut down every one of our enemies. Their smoking remains, as well as clotted blood, flooded the entire entrance hall. And then, I destroyed the Jedi abode, profaning their home, their sanctuary, their holy place," turning to the Twi'lek, the Sith turned the gaze of his eyes, in which molten gold was splashing, on her. "Do not talk to me about chances, little Twi'lek."
***
Up until the moment the second "Venator" breathed its last, vanishing in a silent flash — the result of munitions and reactor detonation — Eeth Koth still held onto hope for a favorable outcome.
Of course, nearly the entire air group had been exterminated by the Sith, but the enemy also suffered significant losses. One of the dreadnoughts that was pressing on the rear of the detachment, in the process of landing troops — droids of a design never seen before — carelessly exposed itself to the "Acclamator's" missile tubes. A full volley of proton torpedoes, four in number, rushed into the dreadnought's lower hangar, in the blink of an eye turning it into a scatter of huge debris. It was only a pity that before this, the ship managed to land hordes of humanoid droids that, like beetles, swarmed the assault cruiser's hull, penetrating internal spaces through hundreds of miscellaneous breaches.
The same fate awaited the second "Acclamator." Unlike its brother, it was completely deprived of the ability to move, so the Sith ship had the opportunity to land troops unhindered, hovering in the rear hemisphere of the Republic starship, firing back at the enemy's aging turret guns.
"Turn the ship around," the Jedi ordered, pointing to the site of the Sith ship's destruction. "While the engines are intact, we will break out of the trap and..."
"The enemy flagship has closed with us and is landing troops," the clone commander interrupted him. "The upper hangar is under enemy control, the battle is going on in the internal compartments..."
"O Force!"
Despite the lack of special training, the Zabrak made every effort not to make blunders. The Great Force, which he called upon on battlefields, guided him unerringly. Но сегодня, в объятьях Темной стороны, она покинула его.
"Enemy on the bridge!" a cry came from one of the clones as soon as the armored door leaves opened, and the room was filled with lethal blaster volleys.
"Order to save themselves as they can!" the Jedi barked, moving out of the line of fire.
A massive figure in black armor, clutching a massive lightsaber hilt with a color of the blade unusual for a Sith — yellow — cut through the control panel near which the Master had just been.
"Eeth Koth," Malgus said with mocking satisfaction in his voice. "Glad to meet you face to face." The Sith twirled his saber in his hand, taking a classic Shien stance.
The Jedi, igniting his own blade, mechanically reflected a blaster shot fired by a pretty blue-skinned Twi'lek. However, the girl immediately disappeared, ducking into one of the "pits," causing the reflected shots to go into the void.
"This meeting will be your last, Sith!"
"If you only knew how often I've heard that phrase, Jedi," the giant said the last word as if he spat it out like bitter saliva in his mouth. A second later, he rushed into battle with a lightning-fast hand movement, grabbing a clone who had appeared nearby by the throat. The crunch of breaking neck vertebrae cut into the Zabrak's ears.
"Thousands of Jedi found their death from my blade," the Sith slowly but inevitably approached his victim. Cautious, like a veteran predator that had cornered its prey, he was in no hurry to finish it off, instilling fear, enjoying its last moments. "More capable. More worthy than you."
"We shall see about that!"
Without fear in his heart, the Zabrak went on the offensive, seeking to press the larger opponent with swift Ataru-style attacks.
However, the Sith proved unshakable. His power, both physical and in the Force, overwhelmed the Jedi, forcing him to shift to defense almost instantly. Jumping back, the Zabrak noted with annoyance that the bridge was under enemy control.
White humanoid droids, clutching Republic-style blaster rifles, silently, without fuss, dragged dead bodies away from the control consoles. Obviously, the opponent intended to use the damaged ship, which despite surviving the battle was still moving, though its speed had now dropped tenfold from the original.
Seeing that the fight for the bridge had come to an end, the Zabrak turned to his enemy. None of his supporters intervened in what was happening between the two Force adepts, causing Eeth to wait for Malgus to engage him in dialogue. But the Sith only roared and rushed into battle. The Jedi barely had time to raise his blade to meet the unexpected attack in time.
Koth took a defensive stance borrowed from the Soresu arsenal, as he often did in training. Но сейчас даже третий стиль казался ему неспособным противостоять напору сита. He attacked the Zabrak with such speed and ferocity that the Master had never noticed before. Even Darth Maul, the Zabrak who fell on Naboo, according to Obi-Wan's stories, moved slower than the ancient Lord.
Giving himself entirely to the power of saturated rage, Malgus turned into a wild animal, showering the former Master from all sides with frantic blows so frequent that it seemed as if he were wielding a dozen blades simultaneously.
He had to make every effort not to allow the opponent to cut him in two.
Eeth ducked under a horizontal lightsaber swing and immediately received a heavy blow from the Sith's armored boot under his ribs. He flew a good three meters, soaring high into the air, before crashing onto the bridge's metal floor. Despite the fact that the blow knocked the wind out of him, the Jedi managed not to lose concentration and rolled to the side, barely avoiding another thrust of the yellow blade. Parrying a sharp descending blow, he pulled his legs under him and did a backflip to a distance of several meters. He felt the heat emanating from the opponent's blade with his back when the Sith severed part of the Jedi's clothing with a wide swing.
Malgus, without bothering to close the distance, struck the opponent with a powerful Force push, causing him to fly back into the corridor adjacent to the cockpit.
He slowly stood up, raising his blade before him with his last strength, showing by his entire appearance that he was ready to repel an attack. But Malgus, without trying to overcome the defense, threw forward his left hand. The Sith did not fail to call upon the Dark Side of the Force, and struck with a hurricane of several dozen writhing white-and-blue lightning bolts that rushed toward the opponent from all possible sides.
Eeth Koth skillfully deflected the blow, taking it with the end of his lightsaber, but the Jedi defense proved weak against the raging ocean of the Dark Side. Tongues of lightning wrapped around the Zabrak's body, passing millions of volts of electricity through him, causing the renowned master of Crucitorn to grit his teeth, calling on the Great Force to cut off his consciousness from the external raging ocean of pain.
For a moment he succeeded, and the body, agonizing in the Dark Side flows, stopped screaming in pain from bursting skin and blood boiling right in the veins. With blurred vision, Eeth Koth, holding the blade before him, tried to stand in a Soresu defensive stance, seeing the approach of his enemy's massive figure.
Abruptly, without any warning, Malgus interrupted the flow of lightning, with one wide gesture cutting off the man's arm clutching the saber at the elbow. He screamed and fell to his knees. His body and Force concentration had failed Eeth Koth. The Light Side of the Force retreated, displaced by the advancing chaos.
Dropping to one knee, Malgus unceremoniously grabbed the helpless Zabrak by the neck, looking into his eyes.
"I see your pain and despair, Jedi. The Light Side did not help you now, and it will not help your brothers. My Master is reforming the galaxy, and in it there will be no place for either Sith or Jedi," the Zabrak's eyes opened wide. His clouded brain was still trying to analyze what he had heard, to finish the logical chain...
"But you are too weak to see it, Eeth Koth."
Malgus delivered a single powerful blow: the saber blade entered the Zabrak's chest just below the midline of the ribs and came out of his right shoulder blade by a good half-meter.
The Sith extracted the blade, simply turning off the lightsaber's power. When the Jedi's body fell face down in the dirt and dust of the corridor, the Dark Lord fixed all his attention on the blue-skinned Twi'lek standing behind him. Vette, frozen, was watching him.
"Inform the Master that I have destroyed the Jedi group and captured the prizes," the Dark Side monster in the flesh pulled the Zabrak's lightsaber into his hand, which he placed on his belt next to his own. "Senior Jedi General Eeth Koth proved unworthy of recruitment. I broke his heart."
***
The yellow sun of Nexus Ortai hung directly overhead, scattering rays over the lush valley below and over the jungle camp where Nyx and his battle brothers from the 204th Legion waited. Under the canopy of a tree, the Senior Clone Commander, to pass the time, was conducting a quick system check of his new armor.
Like the armor of ARC clones Balda and Shajba, Nyx and the regiment commanders had received new gear which, it must be admitted, was more comfortable than the Phase I armor supplied by Kamino. The power pack was fully charged and suitable for extended use. He checked the spare power module as well.
The weapons remained the same — the same DC complex. However, unlike his brothers, Nyx preferred to arm himself with two DC-17 pistols. The heavy blasters could compete with the DC-15s blaster carbines with which the vast majority of the infantry were armed. Of course, the carbine's cartridge capacity, enough for 500 shots, was in no way comparable to the 50 charges in the pistols. But Nyx was not seeking to be at the attack front, so he had not taken the carbine out of his backpack for a long time.
Thanks to the enviable genetics of the clone donor and a countless number of training sessions, Nyx's hands moved nimbly and confidently. Over the last months, he had been subjected to routine so often that he didn't even have to think while working. Pre-battle weapon checks were not standard practice in the Grand Army's forces, but the commander had introduced this innovation among the legion's soldiers since the time of Christophsis. Contradicting superior orders was not in the clone's spirit, and besides, this habit had saved his life several times here on the Nexus.
Despite large losses, the legion was regularly replenished with recruits — they were easy to distinguish from veterans by the absence of black marks on their armor. Of course, over time, the distinctive signs were also applied to the newcomers' cuirasses, but for this one had to be in several battles as part of the legion.
He stuffed the pistols into holsters secured to his belt on both sides; checked the vibroblade in the sheath on his boot and looked around. The clones — regiment commanders, as well as Christophsians — their colleagues in the volunteer units, were conducting a similar check of their own weapons while awaiting orders. Nyx only gave a grim nod, meeting the gaze of Phob — commander of the first regiment.
His brother picked up his rifle and approached the clone sitting on the ground, shielding himself from the scorching sun and enemy observers, leaning his back against a tree trunk.
"What do you think about all this, Commander?" He jabbed the carbine's barrel toward the far end of the valley where, like an impenetrable block, the massive bulk of Separatist fortifications was located on a ridge.
"I'll reserve judgment until Hellagen and the scouts arrive," the clone sighed.
"I hope they're returning already," the clone grunted. "We've been on position for two whole days. No word from them..."
Nyx shrugged his shoulders.
"We can't start until we know the picture as a whole. Especially since the Jedi is still leading a sweep in the jungle. Don't worry," he reached out and the clone, grabbing his forearm, helped him up. "The scouts will return soon."
Sergeant Hellagen and his group had earned a good reputation over the past months of the war. They had participated in every battle since Kamino and had won not a few victories. They had gone from being one of a thousand front-line units to an elite reconnaissance squad, earning gratitude from both Commander Dougan and the ARCs. It's no wonder they were among the first, along with the commanders, to receive new armor. And in addition to it — prototypes of the latest DC-19 "Stealth" carbines whose special modification allowed silencing the shot and hid the blaster shot itself from the naked eye. An ideal weapon for reconnaissance, but overly complex to handle and energy-intensive — the cartridge lasted literally for 5-6 shots, after which the weapon required cooling. Otherwise — an inevitable explosion in the owner's hands.
But right now, the scouts could serve as the key to capturing the industrial world of Nexus Ortai — the Separatist citadel. They had been here only a couple of days, but it was already starting to get on their nerves.
Phob began pacing the ground. Nyx sat quietly in the shade, watching him march back and forth.
"Don't wear yourself out," he said a minute later. "We're definitely not moving until dusk. You can rest too."
Phob stopped pacing, but his restlessness remained.
"General Unduli says it will be as easy as a morning exercise," he said, carefully maintaining nonchalance in his voice. "Do you think she's right?"
The Jedi from the Mirialan race had taken command of the legion shortly before the landing on the planet. Despite her courage — the Jedi fought on par with the clones, shared their life and in no way separated herself from the unit's soldiers — Nyx was in no hurry to speak of his commander. Even now, when mobile groups of clankers were discovered in the Republic rear, she did not shift the responsibility for their neutralization onto the clones. Taking a battalion of volunteers from Christophsis with her, she went hunting for the enemy, while she could have ordered any of the clone commanders to do it. Her Padawan, Barriss Offee, was in the rear with the medics, providing all possible assistance to the wounded.
Unlike Dougan with whom the 204th Legion had gone through more than one battle, and especially the meat grinder on Christophsis, the new commander still remained a mystery. And the clone was in no hurry to take a side — to agree with her assessment of the situation or not. Of course, the Jedi Master had proven her professional suitability — in less than a week the legion under her command had knocked the enemy out of four fortified areas with few losses. But all those were just minor skirmishes. The assault on the enemy's main base promised serious losses — and primarily from "secrets" — firing points camouflaged from detection.
It was to find and destroy them that the general had sent Hellagen's group. As soon as the scouts cleared the valley, the legion would be able to move forward.
"Well?" Phob repeated. "What do you say, brother? When it all starts, will it be as easy as the general promises?"
"Phob, calm down. The general hasn't let us down," the Senior Clone Commander finally said. "Why would she be wrong now?"
The commander of the first regiment went silent, considering his words.
They were hiding in the jungle at the edge of a narrow valley — the only path to the place where the Separatists had established their camp. The fortifications rising above the valley turned the open terrain into a shooting range where the clankers would shred the clone units with rapid-fire blasters and heavy guns.
But it was this notorious fifth fortification that separated the 204th's soldiers from the planet's capital — the city of Nexus. There, protecting himself from bombardment with thousands of hostages from the local residents, was the Separatist commander.
If Republic forces try to move troops through the valley without disarming the "secrets," even at night, they will definitely be noticed on the fortifications. Neither artillery nor armor painted in shades of green that once saw its white color will save them.
And even if the clones manage to break through the fortifications, the Separatists will signal the base camp, and their entire defense will rise and prepare for battle long before the enemy overtakes them. And then, the entire city will have to be won back, house by house, street by street... Remembering his brothers' stories about street fighting on Christophsis, where thousands of his brothers found their death, Nyx shuddered. The Jedi is right — no one needs extra casualties.
"I'm uneasy," Nyx admitted at last. "Taking these fortifications won't be that easy. When we get the 'go-ahead,' there will be no room for error. We must be perfect. If the reconnaissance messes up, trouble cannot be avoided."
Phob irritably threw up his hands.
"Contact the general."
"And what will I tell her?"
"I don't know, honestly. Maybe we should send new reconnaissance groups? Or at least move out several battalions under cover of night. That's all better than sitting here and waiting. Idleness is just killing me!"
Nyx didn't have time to answer — a speeder's howl sounded nearby, after which several Republic vehicles burst from the forest edge, braking neatly near the clone commanders.
From one of them, as easily as if she hadn't spent several days in the saddle, the Mirialan jumped down.
The green-skinned Jedi, despite being clad in light gray-brown armor, was noticeably limping on her left leg. The breastplate had traces of several scorch marks, and the commander's appearance generally spoke of great fatigue.
"General, ma'am!" The clones jumped from their places, greeting the Jedi. Handing the speeder to one of the clones, the general walked toward Nyx.
The clone smiled under his helmet, clapping Phob on the shoulder in a friendly way.
"I think we'll finally get our orders."
***
The clones stood at attention while Nyx and the Jedi silently examined the tactical terminal. The holographic projection showed those gathered a map of the valley, with a good dozen markings. Hellagen, who as it turned out had arrived at the legion's location half an hour ago, patiently explained the details of his raid through the enemy's rear.
The 3D image showed the droids' defensive structures, consisting of a permacrete wall stretching for a good hundred meters — from one mountain range to another, a couple of meters thick, with a single passage — wide gates closed with durasteel shutters. At the top of the wall were five turrets with wide embrasures from which the barrels of heavy blasters looked out menacingly. At some distance from the wall were parapets from which the Separatist self-propelled guns looked out, aiming their muzzles upward.
"The enemy is well entrenched on their lines," he said. "We disarmed about seventeen 'secrets.' Mainly these are small B1 detachments, but reinforced with heavy rapid-fire blasters. There is no communication between them — the mountains interfere with comlink operation. We found no approach paths along which the enemy could rotate the 'secrets.' Most likely, no one changed the droids."
"Of course," Richie grunted. "They're just clankers."
Ignoring his remark, the Jedi pointed to the location of the firing points.
"They are located throughout the valley at a distance of a click from each other — from our positions to the fortifications themselves."
"That's correct," the sergeant nodded. "I think in the absence of communication, artillery from the fortifications should have struck right at the 'secrets' positions as soon as they detected our advance."
"But now they don't have that opportunity?" Dei inquired.
"Of course," the scout confirmed. "The valley is clear. Of course, moving across open ground is suicidal, but by platoon, using the natural terrain..."
The general, who had been silent until then, took the floor.
"Excellent reconnaissance, sergeant. The Separatists will not know of our approach until we begin the assault on the fortifications."
"That's right, ma'am. If we move fast enough, we'll have time to deal with the droids on the hill faster than they can deploy the main forces in the city."
"Are the droids in the city in marching order?" Nyx was surprised.
"Yes, sir. We spent almost two days studying the situation. The city is patrolled by two hundred B1s, while B2s and droidekas are powered down. I don't think they've been activated since the time the planet was conquered."
"Unwise of their commander," the Mirialan said thoughtfully. "To know we're on the approach and be so negligent of their own defense..."
"That's only to our advantage," Nyx noted. "By the time they deploy their forces, we'll already be in the city."
"But that still doesn't cancel the battle for the fortifications," Nyx reminded. "Did you find out what the garrison is armed with?"
"Of course, sir," Hellagen nodded. "There is at least a B1 battalion, a hundred B2s and half a dozen proton cannons aimed into the valley. About a hundred heavy stationary blasters that can fire at both ground and air targets."
"This won't be easy at all," Richie shook his head. "We won't be able to suppress that many clankers fast enough to break through to the city and have time to lead out most of the residents."
Those gathered fell silent, considering the upcoming battle.
"There is a way out after all, gentlemen," the Mirialan suddenly said. The clones stared at her as one. Meanwhile, the Jedi began giving explanations.
"The height of the fortification walls is about ten meters. We can approach the walls almost point-blank, after which part of the clones will use jetpacks. How many do we have? About three hundred?" Addressing her question to Richie, the Mirialan waited for confirmation from him, after which she continued. "They can gun down the enemy in flight, throwing shock grenades at at least some of the guns and firing points while the droids analyze the situation. During this time, the main forces will use grenade launchers to blow the gates leading to internal areas and engage the enemy in battle. Soldiers with jetpacks and scouts on speeders and light walkers will meanwhile burst into the city, capturing a bridgehead and holding it until the arrival of the main forces. As soon as we capture the fortifications or at least neutralize most of the heavy weapons, we will send reinforcements on gunships. They will strike the main droid forces' positions, which should significantly reduce their strength."
"What forces does the enemy have in the city?"
"Up to fifteen thousand B1s and at least two — B2s and droidekas."
Hearing the numbers, Nyx whistled. Although no one supported his reaction, his brothers-in-arms thought the same. During the battle on the planet, the legion lost more than three thousand killed or wounded, from which it followed that the Republicans were significantly inferior in the amount of "living" force.
"If we don't have time to blow up most of the droids before they are activated, we're done for," the Mirialan voiced the thought that was tormenting everyone, squinting.
***
Surveying the empty rooms of the abandoned fortress, Kira indulged in memories with a bit of sadness, from when this place was full of life.
The glimmer of multicolored lights in the reception room where she and her lover, setting aside worries and routine, gave themselves to dancing. The young Jedi Knight laughed as she watched her chosen one's clumsy moves, secretly hiding her smiles so as not to accidentally offend him.
Everything in this house reminded her of him. An old music machine, lonely living out its days in a corner. Fancy furniture — a gift from Killiks from Alderaan. A food processor, purchased on Corellia for a fabulous price — nearly two thousand credits — had pleased them more than once or twice with exquisite dishes. Numerous flags and banners hanging on the walls had lost their original beauty, turning into rags filled with dust and eaten by local pests, only adding to the impression of abandonment.
The layer of dust she brushed off one of the pedestals exceeded several centimeters, which, in the conditions of the abode's total isolation, seemed unthinkable. But facts, as they say, are a stubborn thing.
After thousands of years, Kira still felt the reflections of the Force that was great in her chosen one. The aura of tenderness and care with which he surrounded the young Padawan, and then the Knight, still filled the walls and furniture of the once cozy family nest that the apartments on Nar Shaddaa had become for them. But as the years passed, the Force had run dry, turning into only murky reflections of the riot of colors that reigned here before.
Wandering through the semi-dark halls, the girl visited every room, surveying the dull traces of past splendor with pain in her heart.
Nothing in this dwelling caught her anymore. The attachments she kept had been unceremoniously torn by long imprisonment and time that had flown by like a moment. Alternating between unquestioning execution of the Emperor's missions and long sleep in suspended animation, she seemed to have lost all the threads connecting her with this and other memorable places.
Previously, her heart would have broken from grief had she witnessed such a thing.
But now, through time and the hundreds of tortures she had to go through for the Emperor...
The last place on her path was the office.
A small room, designated by the plan as a bedroom, but occupied by the man by right as head of the house. Even away from strife and unceasing conflicts, in his beloved's embrace, he never allowed himself to remain in seclusion from his duty, his work. Kira remembered how she was angry at her lover, realizing at one fine point that the galaxy would always remain in first place for him. And even Carsen's all-consuming love could not distract him for long.
Over time, she resigned herself to the second role in his life. Duty to the Order, the galaxy, each of the trillions of living souls in millions of inhabited worlds, was always in first place for him. Such is the fate of every great person.
Memories flooded back.
Dromund Kaas. Training in the ways of the Dark Side. The Emperor, whose insinuating voice, like the whisper of thousands, spoke to her.
"Each of us will one day make a decision about what is more important to him — family or power. And foolish is he who, for the sake of feelings, rejects greatness."
Shaking her head of chestnut hair, the girl concentrated, clearing her mind of childhood memories. The last thing she wanted now was to feel hatred for her past. The crumbs of bright moments she had cherished in herself all these years were fading one by one among this decay. One should not blacken one's soul. Faith and endless love — that's what gave her the strength to go forward. To serve this monster despite everything.
Freezing before the door bulkhead, she tried to return in memories to those happy moments they had experienced here together.
The only place in the house where the Hero could allow himself to shed the weight of daily life and armor, which over years of wandering had become his second skin. The room where they entered as first-line fighters opposing the Sith Empire, the Hutt cartel, Revan...
She touched the control panel with a smile, stepping over the threshold.
The desk, turned so that the dim lighting outside the window poured its rays onto a simple metal desk, bought on the black market, produced by craftsmen from the Sith Empire. Their little secret. Kira recalled with delight how her love with funny grumbling criticized Republic manufacturers. They had changed dozens of stores where he demanded they sell him a simple desk, rectangular, without rounding or fancy carving. Without complex electronics and unnecessary options.
Everywhere they were looked at as if they were crazy — a pair of Jedi who deny ancient Republic interior traditions.
What happiness his eyes shone with when, on another arrival at Nar Shaddaa, he found this surprise — a rectangular desk, with a wide top, its base being an inverted trapezoid. A massive but extremely comfortable chair came with it.
His joy knew no bounds. Like a child, he praised the Imperial design — for besides a portable holocommunicator and a built-in computer, this desk didn't shine with any upgrades.
A pair of sofas, arranged along the wall opposite. A floor lamp, standing close to the blurred glass. How they loved to sit here in the evenings and warm themselves in the rays of yellow light, in which this single light source bathed them...
She ran her fingers over the ends of the information plates, arranged in neat rows on the shelves of a simple metal cabinet bolted to the wall to the left of where he sat.
A small cabinet with locked leaves where he kept his armor in those moments when he stopped being a Jedi on whose shoulders fell the care for the well-being of the entire galaxy. The cabinet was small, designed only for his things and mechanisms for repairing armor and weapons, but there also was kept one single item that she cherished. Guarding the small boundaries of his personal space so zealously, he categorically objected to anything besides his weapons and armor being in this state-of-the-art storage.
But, like all women, by guile, affection, and small whims, she won her place in his armored storage, placing there only one, but the most significant item for her.
Satele Shan's blade. The very one she had lost in the battle on Alderaan, opposing Malgus and his Sith. It is unknown how, but the Hero found the saber parts in Malgus's station storerooms before overthrowing the self-proclaimed Emperor. He presented them as a gift to the Grand Master as a sign of his greatest respect. She was the only one in the entire Council who didn't just guess but knew exactly about their stormy romance. But she kept this secret. Like a mother, whose love Kira never really knew, she treated the young girl.
Perhaps the only one of all the Jedi living at that time, it was Satele who understood how wrong the Jedi were in rejecting love. But, like her legendary ancestor, she kept the thought of the Unity of the Force to herself. The Order was not ready to accept the truth. Not in Revan's time, nor during the Galactic Wars...
Kira smiled, remembering how she was encouraged and glad that the Grand Master had passed the damaged saber to her. Satele talked for a long time to young Kira about how she assembled this blade, how she covered it with skillful carving, putting her soul into it. Shan asked the girl not without pride to restore the blade and use it by right. The most valuable gift the Grand Master of the Order that rejects love could present at the secret wedding of Kira and the greatest of the Jedi Guardians who had struck down Vitiate.
Kira spent long months restoring the hilt's original appearance, using Force-forging to restore the strength of the thinnest Mandalorian iron coating over the electrum base. Through sleepless nights, she brought back the beauty of the pattern, rejoicing like a girl at every successfully restored scroll.
And he watched her from behind his desk. In love, unreservedly devoted to her and her love. When, finally, she managed to finish her work, she activated the blade with triumph... but failure awaited her...
Some minor breakdown didn't allow the legendary weapon to work. He consoled her grief by showing her a huge painting, done on canvas with real, relic paints. They both were captured there. Two people in love with each other. Dressed in armor, with traces of a past battle, still holding lightsaber hilts in their hands... the artist had surprisingly accurately reflected a bright moment of their restless life.
The outlines of a Sith dreadnought's cockpit, which became the place of Kira's return to the Light, were easily guessed in the painting. Darth Angral's death on board his own flagship, minutes before the destruction of Coruscant. The painting, by the way, the only one in the whole house, took its place of honor in his office, on the wall, so that while working at the terminal, he could always move his eyes and remember that memorable day. The moment when their love was born...
A point on their life path where they first, without jokes and playfulness, realized how close they were to each other...
Picking the password to the ancient mechanism, Kira affirmed with grim determination the thought that she would take Satele's gift and the painting with her. Whatever it cost her, she would win herself an untouchable space on Odessen, where she would recreate the altar of her love. Her own small world where none of the Hands, the Emperor, or his Apprentice would have entry. The stubbornness with which the Hero stood his ground, not allowing her to keep Satele's blade in the only suitable place in the cabinet, she would use to protect her inner world from intrusion.
And what was her surprise when instead of the silver-blue hilt covered with ancient carving, she found a simple hilt, without any excesses. The purely pragmatic hilt design, whose emitter was surrounded by several pointed blades, was not characteristic of a Jedi blade.
Armor of a golden color, in which she surprisingly recognized a Zakuul military set worn by members of the order of the same name... Only at the very bottom, where only dirty rags and technical trash were always kept, did she finally find her blade. With its surface scarred by scratches, deprived of beskar coating, its pattern broken in places...
Gasping, as if she had received a blow to the solar plexus, Kira took the blade with both hands with trepidation. What had happened to it?
Collapsing into the chair, the girl examined the ancient weapon, blasphemously ruined, with wide-open eyes. It had been hidden in a trash box like a disgrace, deprived of its original beauty... But by whom? Why?! As if only yesterday she was grieving over the fact that she couldn't assemble it correctly. His consolations, interrupted by a call from Darth Marr, whose foresight did him credit, and led to five years of separation and the subsequent war with the Eternal Empire of Zakuul.
But he had sworn to her that he hadn't visited Nar Shaddaa since they parted, in Wild Space, when Vitiate's offspring attacked Marr's squadron, and Kira, along with the other companions, had to flee and scatter across the galaxy! But if so, then where did the armor of the Knights of Zakuul come from?!
Tears appeared in her eyes.
She remembered the moment of reunion when she returned to Odessen with Scourge. Hardly had the battles on Onderon subsided when the pair of former Emperor's servants, certain that the Outlander was their miraculously saved Hero, returned to their ally. With ill-concealed impatience, she waited for Scourge to tell of the deadly plague the Emperor had left as his last weapon.
She remembered his confusion when he saw his old friends.
The bewilderment in the Force that he could not hide...
But at that moment, she was the happiest of women, and paid no attention to it.
The girl leaned back in the chair, wiping tears from her eyes. He never lied, even in the smallest thing... perhaps it was the Emperor's influence, whose vessel he was for many years? Maybe he just forgot?
Nar Shaddaa was hidden in a night of resinous fog and the lights outside the window finally went out. The district was no longer elite, so the street lighting was on its last legs.
The girl touched the floor lamp switch with the Force.
The yellow light flickered, casting bright stripes that drove away the darkness on the wall opposite the desk...
In the next second, it seemed to her that her heart had shattered into millions of pieces. Like razor shards they fell into the depths of her soul, leaving bleeding cuts.
The painting that had pleased his eyes had disappeared. The last sparks of love and nostalgia keeping her from falling went out.
He had killed them. He had killed her. After four thousand years, she found the answer as to why the Outlander was so cold to her then, on Odessen.
The same artist — it was easy to notice by the characteristic "writing" of the painting — had created another masterpiece for him. In which a carefree smiling Alliance Commander, against the backdrop of an Onderon celebrating victory, is kissing a blonde girl whose eyes, like amber resin, are looking at her rival from the canvas. And they are triumphant.
For Kira, the transformation happened without trouble, as soon as the instincts nurtured on Dromund Kaas took over.
Thanks to tireless training under the best Sith, the Children of the Emperor could turn their deepest fears, their deepest pain into the heat of unstoppable rage in a split second, so powerful it could melt comets.
Kira did not care that the mental blocks had fallen. She was not concerned with self-control or loyalty to Jedi truths, which she had adhered to even after all the attempts to break her. The monstrous experiments of the Emperor and his mechanical assistants, who once granted immortality to Scourge, and hundreds of years later to the Hands who now served his apprentice, only added to her strength.
Rage rushed through her veins in an incinerating stream. The iris of her eyes filled with the fire of solar flares, and the Dark Side, to whose power Carsen had surrendered, demanded blood. It didn't matter whose, the main thing was that there be an immeasurable amount of it... The madness, which the most desperate Sith Juggernauts would have envied, fed her, nurturing the Dark Side. And the stronger the Darkness inside her became, the more insane she herself became...
But suddenly, as if hitting an invisible wall, the rage, ready to tear her body apart and pour into space as an unbridled storm of the Dark Side, went out. The anger, like an uncontrolled flame, had burned out its fuel in the tiny inner world she had kept for thousands of years. And went out. Leaving behind only smoking embers in which sparks of a guttered flame flickered every now and then, ready to flare up at the first wind. It was only necessary to give these sparks fuel...
Once, she had witnessed the revelations of Scourge, talking with the Hero of Tython.
"I still remember the feeling of sunlight warming my skin. The taste of my favorite food. The color of my first lover's eyes. I would give anything to experience those simple pleasures again."
"That's why Jedi are not allowed attachments. Desires deprive you of your mental balance."
"You've understood it all wrong. Моё равновесие никогда не нарушается. Я ничего не чувствую."
As never before, Kira understood her old comrade. And although he is no longer alive now, his three-hundred-year wisdom proved as timely as ever.
Her love... had died. Everything bright that once connected her with the past had burned out in the flame of the Dark Side, to which she had yielded for the first time in thousands of years. The moral foundations she had nurtured in herself had been swept away by the raging ocean of the Force. Like a river that had broken an ancient dam, the Force washed away the Jedi dogmas, the Sith axioms, mixing them in a single crucible of passions in the lowlands of her subconscious.
On this day, once and for all, Jedi Kira Carsen died.
Grabbing the defiled blade of the ancient Grand Master, the Hand of the Emperor left the abandoned fortress, ordering the two Twi'lek slaves to put it in order for the arrival of their common master.
Racing swiftly in a hover-taxi to the spaceport, despite the indifference to everything happening reigning in her soul, Kira could in no way shake the feeling that she heard the mocking laughter of Lana Beniko.
***
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