Strangely enough, counting on a breather while building the base, I was cruelly mistaken.
Negotiations with the locals began the day after my conversation with Yoda. We found common ground quickly — and how could we not, when there was an entire fleet in orbit and an army on your planet that crushed your former ally in a matter of hours? The Supreme Suzerain was many things, but an idiot was not one of them.
In short, everything was resolved to mutual satisfaction — the locals breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that no punitive campaign would be launched against them, and the Republic gained a strategically important source of natural food. Even my statement that the food supply for the armed contingent on the base would henceforth be the concern of the Supreme Suzerain was graciously accepted by the latter. After all, what are an extra thirty thousand mouths to an agricultural world? A drop in the ocean.
Having received assurances from the Supreme Suzerain that Ukio was from then on a reliable ally and supplier of the Republic, I could be proud of myself. Pellaeon's Equalizer was towing the slavers' transport ships into orbit one by one. We expropriated the cargo by right of the victor, using it for clearing work at the old CIS base. I didn't dare risk bringing the ships here in pairs. Sending the Iron Sun and the Blue Star to guard the transports, I returned to the Wanderer. While the general's business took care of itself, I needed to deal with imperial matters, without waiting for Valkorion to remind me of his existence again. The Ghost hadn't visited me for quite some time, for which I gave him honor and praise.
While we were at it, I needed to contact the Hands and find out how my assignments were going. Part of that I could monitor myself — Atroxa, Malgus, and even Grell had opened their minds to me. I had no particular trouble establishing telepathic contact with them. What I lacked was time.
After departing from Ord Pardron, Nadia received an assignment on Coruscant. The girl was to take control of the remnants of Haor Chall Engineering. The company was still up for auction, and there was no attention from potential buyers whatsoever...
All I had to do was arrange the deal. I found the contacts for the HCE management on the same trading platform as the company's shares. A mere hundred million — and the company passed into my ownership.
Aboard the Wanderer, I carefully sealed the compartment. Setting the encryption on my personal holoterminal, I entered the coordinates of the acquired company's management. Pulling a hood over my head, I hid my face from the interlocutor. If Sidious used such tricks, why should I be worse?
"Hello," the image of a protocol droid that looked deadly reminiscent of the infamous C-3PO appeared before me. "I am TC-97, the secretary droid of the Prelate, head of the Xi Char Order and the company Xi Char Engineering. How can I be of service?"
"Five minutes ago, I purchased your shares, and HCE belongs to me," I informed him, transmitting the buyer's identification code. The droid verified it, then returned its attention to me.
"You have made an excellent acquisition," it praised. "Our company..."
"I wish to speak with the Prelate," I interrupted the droid.
"One moment," the droid's image disappeared and, after a couple of minutes, returned, supplemented by the image of an insectoid.
"The Prelate expresses his immense gratitude to you," the droid translated the humanoid's speech. "You have made a wise choice. What are your wishes, Master?"
"Honorable Prelate," I sighed. "In a few days, my plenipotentiary representative will arrive on Coruscant and contact you. You will leave the planet on a ship that you need to procure right now. My representative will deliver you to the planet that will henceforth be the new headquarters of Haor Chall Engineering. However, you should take care of protection — the planet has a strong radiation background."
The insectoid chittered something.
"The Prelate assures the Master that the Xi Char possess their own technologies for neutralizing radiation on an entire planet. Some six months, and you won't recognize this world."
"I certainly hope so, Prelate," I allowed myself a smile. "Now, let's discuss the details..."
An alert light for an incoming message from the Order's command forced me to cut the negotiations short. Finishing the conversation with the Prelate, I threw off my mantle, shedding the disguise, and contacted the Jedi Temple.
"Master Rancisis, what a pleasant surprise..."
* * *
Yeah, pleasant. Like hell it was. That bastard Senate with its bastard senators.
I flew out of my cabin, activating my comlink on the move.
"Nyx, we have a problem on Rodia. Get the legion on alert — we're taking the entire 204th, loading onto the Wanderer and the ships of the first and second flights."
"Vehicles?" From the clone's voice, it was clear he was also in a hurry. Unlike me, Nyx was overseeing the debris clearance on the planet.
A good question, of course, but as far as I remembered the adventures of one shell-shocked democrat senator, there wouldn't be much fighting there.
"Infantry only, gunships, and assault shuttles," I cut him off. "We move out in an hour."
"Copy that, sir."
* * *
As you've probably guessed, a distress signal came from Rodia from Senator Amidala. Straining my memory, I recalled that this crazy woman had rushed off to a secret meeting with the Rodian senator to discuss humanitarian aid for the planet. During the War, Rodia had fallen into a food crisis. And unsurprisingly, the CIS had gotten involved.
The Rodian senator lured Amidala into a trap. Her old enemy — Viceroy Nute Gunray — promised to solve the planet's starvation problem if the Rodians handed Amidala over to him. Which the bastards didn't hesitate to do.
The infamous C-3PO managed to get onto the encrypted channel of Republic forces and report the trap. Unfortunately for me, my unit turned out to be the nearest combat-capable force. Master Rancisis claimed there was a whole CIS squadron in Rodia's orbit. The headquarters of the 13th Sectoral, busy preparing a counter-offensive on Ryloth, made me the scapegoat. And if you looked at the web of hyperspace routes, despite the apparent proximity of Ord Pardron to Rodia, getting there in a straight line would take them longer than us.
Thankfully, our route to Rodia wasn't that far — we just needed to get on the route from Molavar to Christophsis, crossing the northwestern part of the Arkanis sector. Rodia was right on the way...
But still, it would take us over six hours to get there.
"Lieutenant Lidus," I contacted the former first officer of the Persuader. "I and the first two flights of the fleet are departing. You and the remaining ships are to report to Captain Pellaeon. He's out of communications range; when he arrives, inform him of this."
"As you command, General," the officer confirmed receipt of the order, and I disconnected.
* * *
The Rodian system met us with five Munificent-class frigates. The Banking Clan's ships were certainly a strong opponent, but for someone else.
Raising squadrons from the cruiser decks, the Hammer Fleet engaged the enemy ships in a clinch. The Confederates' heavy turbolasers significantly drained the cruisers' shields, but still didn't save the enemy starships from destruction.
"This isn't even funny," I muttered, watching as the ships of my detachment, twice the enemy's strength, turned the former escort vessels into incandescent plasma balls. A pathetic hundred droid starfighters couldn't compete with our more than two hundred.
"Orbital resistance suppressed," Teren reported. "The landing force is loading onto the gunships."
"Excellent," I said. "I'll join them."
* * *
Watching the LAAT/i, so familiar to her, descend into the planet's atmosphere, Senator Amidala couldn't contain her elation.
"The rest of the war, Viceroy, you will spend behind bars," she said triumphantly, aiming her blaster at Gunray.
"Your victory is fleeting," the Neimoidian hissed.
Meanwhile, the shadow of one of the line ships darkened the transparent dome of the landing platform.
"Republic starships!" C-3PO cried.
Scraping their undersides, the first three gunships landed on the platform. Covered in gray soot, the ships opened their troop compartments almost in unison, releasing dozens of clones.
Leading them was a tall man in a black cloak worn over gray-black armor. His face was hidden by a face mask and a hood pulled over his head, and in his hands he held a richly adorned lightsaber.
He, along with the squad of clones, approached the group that had gathered around the viceroy. Representative Binks in a Jedi robe, Senator Farr, Amidala herself, and her protocol droid could examine the approaching warriors in detail.
The Jedi stopped before her, allowing his troopers to organize a defensive perimeter around their small company. Gunray, seeing the arriving Republic forces, grew despondent, letting his head hang on his chest. The Jedi passing by him stared at the Neimoidian for a moment, then turned his gaze to Padmé.
"Senator Amidala," he gave a slight bow. "Jedi Knight Rick Dougan. My fleet, the Hammer, and I have arrived to rescue you."
"Thank you, Jedi," the senator smiled politely. "But I think we can handle things here ourselves."
"This is a blatant violation of my civil rights..." Gunray cried out, taking a step toward the Jedi.
The latter, instantly snatching his lightsaber from his belt, ignited the blade, holding it to the Trade Federation leader's throat.
"One more word, slug, and you won't live to see Coruscant."
"I... I will complain!" Nut assured him. However, that was his farewell speech.
"Alpha, get this asshole out of my sight," the Jedi asked. One of the clones, clad in unfamiliar armor, twisted Gunray's hands behind his back, slapping restraints on his wrists.
"Move," the clone shoved the Neimoidian convincingly in the back with an armored fist, directing him toward the gunship. On stumbling legs, the former instigator of the Naboo blockade shuffled toward the combat vessel.
"Master Wombat," the Rodian, who had been silent until now, approached the Gungan in a Jedi cloak (oh-oh, that was Anakin's cloak!) standing to my left. "On behalf of all Rodians, I thank you."
"I think, Senator, there's been a mistake here," the real Jedi, with a deft motion, removed Jar Jar's cloak from his shoulders, then handed it to Padmé. At this gesture, everything froze in the girl's chest. "How? Why is he giving me Anakin's cloak? Does he know? But how?" "Senator, I think you know who should get this clothing back."
"Yes, yes," Padmé stammered. She tried to suppress the agitation in her chest, taking the article of clothing belonging to a man dear to her from Dougan's hands.
"The thing is, Senator," the Jedi addressed the Rodian, "Representative Binks is not a Jedi. He merely skillfully misled everyone."
"Oh!" was all Onaconda could say. Looking at the ridiculous Gungan, he said, "You are either the bravest or the stupidest person I have ever met."
"Or maybe both," from the Jedi's voice, slightly distorted by the mask's vocoder, it seemed he had cheered up.
"I am neither," the Gungan said in his foolish manner. He wanted to add something else, but was interrupted. One of the clones, approaching the Jedi, whispered something to him, and the latter gestured to the floor. Instantly, the clone placed a holocomm on the surface of the landing platform.
"Senator Farr," Palpatine's hologram looked directly at the Rodian. "Senator Amidala brought your needs to my attention."
The Chancellor pressed his hand to his chest, demonstrating the importance of his words. This did not escape the notice of those present.
"I have already sent a caravan with a convoy to your system," he assured him.
"Thank you, Chancellor," Farr brightened.
"The arrest of Viceroy Nute Gunray is a significant achievement for the Republic," the Chancellor continued. "I thank you all for your courage. Especially, I heard that you distinguished yourself, Representative Binks!"
"Heh-heh," the Gungan beamed in a smile. "A trifle."
"Also," the hologram focused its attention on the Jedi, "many thanks to you as well, esteemed Jedi..."
"Jedi Knight Dougan," the Order member introduced himself. Padmé frowned. Ani had mentioned something about him. But she couldn't remember what exactly. A barely perceptible shadow flickered across the Chancellor's face. "Could he know this Jedi?" Padmé wondered. But she immediately dismissed the thought. It didn't seem so. The Chancellor didn't even know his name. Maybe his appearance surprised the Temple guardian? After all, not all of them wore armor or such expensive fabric as a cloak.
"You responded so quickly to the call for help," the Chancellor stated.
"We were nearby," the knight admitted.
"Well, that's for the best," the Chancellor graced everyone with his smile. "Knight Dougan, I ask you to organize the security of the Viceroy until the arrival of the warship that will deliver him to Coruscant for trial."
"As you command, Chancellor," the Jedi bowed, and then Palpatine's hologram vanished.
* * *
I don't know what caravan Palp was talking about, but I had to deal with the hunger problem of an entire planet. Senator Amidala, waving goodbye, departed for Coruscant on Senator Farr's starship, which rushed to the Senate with speeches about how he and Amidala had devised a cunning plan that allowed them to capture Gunray. Under this pretext, the senator, who had joined the Senate loyalist group, hoped to snag a few allies for Amidala who had previously held a neutral position.
As for me, obeying orders, I remained in orbit. The initial indifference with which I treated the problems of the aliens receded when, after Amidala's departure, I realized I could extract my own profit from the situation. As a result — for a week now, Hammerheads have been shuttling between Ukio and Rodia, guarding the restored slave transports. Emptied of their cargo, the not-so-fresh starships under clone control delivered food to the starving world. For several tens of billions of Rodians, each such delivery was just a drop in the ocean. But they were grateful for even that.
After hearing my report on using the captured ships to solve the food crisis, the Council approved such measures.
"Right now, it's dangerous to send a food caravan through territory still partially controlled by the Separatists," Gallia lamented. "Therefore, the Council and the Chancellor personally express their gratitude for such decisive measures to save Rodia."
"It is my duty, Master," I said, lowering my eyes. "But there aren't enough ships."
"As everywhere," Master Rancisis remarked.
"Well," I concluded, "I will continue transporting supplies from Ukio."
"Good," Yoda grimaced. After a pause, he added, "Another task there is for you, Knight."
"In a week, the cruiser Tranquility will arrive for you," said Adi Gallia, picking up where the Grand Master had left off. I hadn't even asked what task it was! "Senate Guards will take Gunray into custody and deliver him to Coruscant for trial."
"One cruiser?" Well, okay, I'd watched the cartoons — I knew what kind of fight was coming. But what the hell were they thinking? One ship to escort such a high-profile criminal?! That wasn't funny. "Aren't you afraid his underlings will try to free Gunray?"
"Such a danger exists," Yoda noted. "That is why we are entrusting this task to you, Knight Dougan."
"Excuse me, what?" It came out as if I was mumbling. Then, realizing, I said, "Rodia is on the border with the 14th Sectoral. CIS and pirate groups are still roaming here. I cannot withdraw the Hammer ships while there is a danger of the planet being re-captured."
"Contacts on Christophsis you have," the Grand Master reminded me vaguely. "Would they not agree to help you by allocating a few of their ships?"
What a sneaky bastard! Not only did they dump an entire starving planet on my shoulders, but they were also forcing me to use personal connections for the sake of the galactic cause.
"I will contact their Defense Fleet, Grand Master," I had to assure the little green one. It was clear that Shirano and Vizsla would allocate me their entire defensive fleet if I just snapped my fingers. But the nature of our relationship was best kept secret from the rest of the galaxy. "I think they will allocate us a few ships."
"Glad to hear it, I am," the green one assured me. "Escort Gunray to Coruscant. See you, the Council wishes to, and a new assignment, to inform you of."
Well, well, well! Unlike the pompous appearance before the senators, I hadn't worn my mask during the conversation with the Council. It seemed like — why the hell? But no. If it had been on my face, I could have hidden my surprise from my interlocutors.
"A new assignment?" I asked cautiously. "I thought my actions were more than satisfactory to the Council."
"That is so," Adi Gallia assured me. "You and your fleet will receive a new assignment. Thanks to you, the situation in the 13th Sectoral is shaping up much better. This is causing certain movements in the Senate and the government." Adi paused, evidently catching Yoda's warning glance. "Unfortunately, this is not a conversation for a voice link. We await your arrival on Coruscant."
With these words, the Order disconnected.
"What a bunch of bastards!" A wave of anger radiated in all directions, knocking several datapads off the holoprojector. Alpha and Balda, standing on either side of the doors to the Wanderer's command center, silently picked themselves up off the floor, knocked over by the Force.
"Sir?" Seventeen addressed me. "Are we in trouble?"
"I don't know yet, Alpha," I admitted. "I don't like this. The Order could have transmitted any assignment to me over an encrypted channel. But now they're making me go to Coruscant, where I would least like to be."
"Could this be related to your Plan?" Balda inquired.
"Unlikely," I dismissed the suggestion. "The Plan is being implemented in systems where the Republic doesn't even go. This is something else. Damn, what terrible timing!"
Rodia, Gunray, the journey to Coruscant. All of this threw my plans into disarray. The Order didn't have a habit of summoning Jedi halfway across the galaxy for trifles. This was something else. Something bigger. My intuition told me it was somehow related to Bailur. Windu arrested him as soon as the Jedi was in the system. The Moff, accused of treason and corruption, departed for Coruscant, where a trial awaited him. Vice Admiral Ilizo Var was temporarily appointed acting commander of the 13th Sectoral. Maintaining periodic communication with the whole group of "conspirators," I received unofficial news from across the galaxy.
My tip-off about Grievous helped Skywalker and his Padawan save Plo Koon. And not just pull the Kel Dor out of an escape pod, but literally preserve his entire ship's flight. The Malevolence, which took all the heat — meaning a good dozen Jedi and fifty ships — first lost its ion cannons, just like in canon. And then the ship was literally torn apart by a massive volley of proton torpedoes.
The victory, which had resounded just a couple of days ago, spread across the galaxy in an instant. And again, Ani was the hero, saving everyone. A hero without fear and reproach.
The only consolation was that fleet scout Fev Darell had achieved a career boost, jumping past the major rank in one go. Lieutenant Colonel Darell thanked me in a private conversation for the tip, hinting that he wouldn't mind talking to my source.
I was left to cool my heels on Rodia, waiting for the Republic cruiser.
* * *
Odessen greeted her with a cool night.
Leaving the Fury, Kira let the night breeze play across her skin. The base, plunged into the darkness of blackout protocol, stood before her like a giant night demon.
She had stopped being afraid of demons. A long time ago.
Dougan had sent her to headquarters with clear tasks. Of course, he hadn't explained where the Togruta or Vette, who would have been more suitable as commandants, had disappeared to. But she wasn't about to argue with orders.
Wrapping her cloak around herself, the girl walked unhurriedly along the causeway separating the landing platform from the cliffs, in whose depths the seed of their Empire lay hidden.
Much needed to be done, so she needed to hurry. Soon, Nadia was supposed to arrive here. Kira was to organize the delivery of her friend and the entire Xi Char people to Zakuul.
The Jedi hadn't commented on why he decided to start with Zakuul. Whether Valkorion demanded it, or it was his own will.
Unlike Nadia, Kira preferred to keep her mind closed. Neither torture nor Valkorion's persuasion could break her completely. She remained true to herself and her beloved, and therefore — the path into her consciousness was forever closed to the Emperor and his apprentice.
Now she had to perform routine work. And although youth — time in stasis didn't count, she was still only thirty — demanded a thirst for action, she chose to remain in the shadows.
Somewhere out there, in the boundless cosmos (how else to explain the absence of as many as six dreadnoughts?), were Atroxa and Malgus, Vette, Zavros, Grell, and Vizsla. Hands that sympathized with the Emperor's goals and facilitated their implementation. She would stay on the sidelines. She'd had enough of wars.
"Lady Carsen," one of the mercenaries met her at the gate. "We were expecting your arrival. Your quarters are ready." He handed her a datapad. "Here are the reports on the work since Lady Zavros's departure."
"Good," the girl said, stepping under the stone arches of the fortress.
* * *
"The capture of Gunray could turn into a serious threat for us, my friend," the holographic figure of Lord Sidious towered over the kneeling Tyranus. A moment ago, he had been sitting in the command chair of the flagship Munificent; now he was greeting his master. "The Viceroy will not remain silent long under Jedi interrogation."
"One of my plans is already in motion, my Lord," the Sith Dooku assured him. "Sev'rance Tann has brought the Sarapin system under our influence. She will either free the prisoner or silence him for good. You have my word."
"Excellent, my friend," a smirk cut across Sidious's lips. "The Jedi Council has dispatched the cruiser Tranquility to Rodia. The Jedi Dougan will be guarding Gunray."
Hearing the surname, Dooku grew wary.
"He defeated Trench and Loathsom at Christophsis," he recalled. "Captured Ukio..."
"He must be eliminated," the Master barked. Perhaps even louder than necessary. This impatience did not escape Dooku.
"Perhaps Ventress should be assigned to assist Tann?" he suggested.
"Unnecessary," Palpatine rejected the idea. "Her mission with the Huttlet must succeed. The Hutts are valuable allies who will be useful in our struggle against the Republic and the Jedi."
With these words, Sidious's hologram vanished.
With a soft hiss, the elevator doors opened behind Dooku, admitting a female Chiss into the bridge.
Midnight-blue hair framed her pretty face with burning red eyes. Light armor emphasized the beauty of her figure. But as a woman, she did not attract the Sith. She was merely a tool — useful, but nothing more.
"Master," she bowed, expressing her submission and readiness to carry out any order.
Dooku handed her an info-chip.
"Here is the route of the Republic cruiser carrying Viceroy Gunray. Rescue him. If you cannot — kill him. He will be guarded by a Jedi. Get rid of him under any circumstances."
"As you wish," the girl replied. Accepting the gift, she watched Dooku leave the bridge.
"On the chip, you will find the communication codes for our agent aboard the Jedi ship," the Count said as he stepped into the elevator car. "Do not fail me, Tann."
"Under no circumstances, Master," the girl bared her teeth in a smile. Frowning, Dooku disappeared into the car.
Minutes later, his personal shuttle left the side of the flagship frigate. An instant later, Dooku's personal yacht vanished into hyperspace.
Settling into the captain's chair, Tann smirked, imagining yet another Jedi destined to fall by her hand.
"Prepare the squadron for the jump," she commanded. A dozen Munificent-class ships, their engine nozzles flashing, disappeared into hyperspace.
* * *
When they finished speaking, HK immersed himself in calculations.
An assassin droid, created back in the days of the Old Republic by the Master himself, even after thousands of years remained a first-class executor and a deadly mechanism. Such as the Master had made him. And what happened didn't change that.
The droid's AI analyzed the words of the two Sith. Serving a Jedi. Saving the galaxy. Opposing the Sith. A logical contradiction — how could Sith compete with Sith? Answer: Sith always compete with each other. Over power, ego, pride. The bag of meat Malak was proof of that.
That the Master was dead didn't change the objective. Protect the Foundry. A direct directive. That was what he had followed when restored by Malgus's servants. Stupid bags of meat. They hadn't even disabled the backup data core.
The defeat at the hands of the Jedi strike team on Ilum didn't bother him. The objective was more important. As soon as repair droids restored his body, HK captured one of the stealth ships and departed for the Lehon system.
The Master, barely setting foot on the station's threshold, had built upgrades into him. Including — HK always knew where the Foundry was. An invention of bags of meat called the "Rakata." They had done well.
HK killed everyone who tried to escape on the station. No one survived. The objective was more important.
HK waited for its Master to return. It waited a long time. Master waged war against the Empire and the Republic. But he never came back for HK. Cognitive contradiction — Master never ignored HK. The contradiction resolved when the analytical module failed to produce simulation results — the man on Yavin 4 was not the Master.
Then HK moved on to secondary tasks. Master sought to exterminate the Sith. But he didn't finish. Master communicated with the Foundry's computer. HK also communicated with that illogical set of program code. Shortsighted, impractical, unnecessary.
HK erased the station's AI. HK subjugated the station. HK made the Foundry more efficient.
The meat bags called the Rakata created the Star Forge — a beautiful automated factory. The Foundry was meant to become the same kind of Star Forge. It had all the necessary resources for that.
The Foundry's sensors registered an unknown energy that Master called the Dark Side of the Force. Master used this energy. HK allowed the Foundry to absorb the Dark Side of the Force. The station's automata consumed the remains of its predecessor. And transformed the Foundry into a Star Forge.
To complete the project, there wasn't enough scrap metal. The New Forge operated at only a third of its capacity and needed further resources. The meat bags' ships would have sufficed — but the New Forge had no weapons. The design hadn't accounted for that.
But the outsiders' information made the thought processor analyze the situation again.
HK accessed its data banks to update its information on the Sith. The Sith. A faction of meat bags calling themselves Sith. They want the same thing any sentient meat bag wants — power to kill anyone they want, anytime they want.
The Sith need the station to destroy other Sith. The First Sith are led by a Jedi. The Jedi wants to unite the galaxy. The Second Sith wants to exterminate the Jedi. The First Sith seek to sway the Jedi to their Jedi's side. This Jedi wishes no harm to the Republic; he plans to reorganize it. The Jedi wants to see the galaxy strong and united. The Jedi uses Sith teachings. The Jedi desires much knowledge. The Jedi needs a mechanical army. The army is needed for the Jedi to defeat the Sith who seek to conquer the galaxy for personal gain. Analysis complete.
The Jedi matches Master's behavior model by 76%. Preliminary behavior model may have up to 20% margin of error. 56% match with Master's behavior model. That is sufficient to join the Jedi.
"Cautious observation. A personal meeting with the Jedi is necessary."
The Sith exchanged glances. Then the Twi'lek nodded vigorously. She froze for a moment, her eyes closed. After that, she opened them wide.
HK noted that this meat bag lacked the whites of her eyes. The eyeballs had taken on a matte-black color.
"Well, holy shit," the low timbre of the voice coming from the Letan's mouth could not belong to a female meat bag. "HK-47!"
"Caustic triumph. So you did remember, meat bag?"
"Don't insult Atroxa," the Twi'lek said. "Her consciousness doesn't... control the body right now. You wanted to see me, HK?"
"Astonishment. The Jedi controls this meat bag?"
"I do. She serves me. Just as Jedi and Sith served your creator."
"Irritated: they let Master down. Statement: my master assembled a veritable collection of crippled individuals who seemed incapable of handling basic personal conflicts. Allow me to quote some particular examples." The droid accessed its archives. In Carth Onasi's voice: "'Oh, Master, I don't trust you! I can't trust you or anyone else anymore!'" In Bastila Shan's voice: "'Oh, Master, I love you, but I hate everything you stand for, but I think we need to touch each other with our slimy lips in the cargo hold!'"
HK saw a smile appear on the Twi'lek's face.
"Conclusion: such pheromone-induced responses from meat bags never cease to drain the charge from my capacitors and make me want to press a blaster to my behavioral core and pull the trigger. Are your companions the same?"
"Well, my servants," the Twi'lek nodded toward the meat bag named Malgus, "won't let me down. I control them. Like a droid controlled by a restraining bolt. If they try to rebel — I'll destroy them."
"Enthusiastic exclamation: the Jedi could become a good killer! HK-47 is ready to serve as a personal trainer."
"Hold on," the Twi'lek smirked. "I'm on the other side of the galaxy. In orbit over Rodia."
"Analysis: the backwaters of the galaxy. Homeworld of mercenaries and bounty hunters. Quite mediocre ones."
"Well, I'm not here by choice," another smirk on the Twi'lek's face. "Did Atroxa and Malgus tell you about the conspiracy we're preparing against the Sith who rule the galaxy?"
"Agreement: their words have been analyzed. There is logic in your actions."
"I need allies. I need an army. This station can produce droids that will form the backbone of my army. With its help, I will conquer the ancient Sith worlds, and then — defeat the Sith themselves."
"Cautious question: what casualties are anticipated?"
"The plan is to kill every bastard I know of."
"Suggestion: the New Forge can make your assault droids more effective if you take my AI as a template."
"And why would I need an army of smartasses like you?" the Twi'lek grinned for the third time. "I always thought HK should be one of a kind. Creating droids that possess even a drop of your talent would be a desecration of Revan's legacy."
"Mocking warning: I'm about to leak lubricant from my optical sensors and rust from happiness."
"Yeah, yeah. Your trademark humor. HK, I'm not used to giving long motivational speeches to intelligent conversationalists — it's an insult to the interlocutor's intellect. Yours included. My servants made you an offer of alliance. I need the New Forge. Join me, and together we'll finish what your master started."
"Reasoning: what happens if I don't join?"
"Then I'll contact three dreadnoughts outside the station and blow it to hell."
"Observation: two of your servants will die, Jedi."
"What the hell do I need them for if they got beaten by a droid? Meat bags, nothing more."
"Approving observation: your servants have never encountered superior intelligence."
"That's why they're just servants. My servants."
HK's optical sensors flashed. Raising the rifle stock to its shoulder, it fired two crimson bolts into the chest plate of Malgus's armor. The Sith, knocked back by the impact, rose to his feet with a wild roar, ready to lunge at the droid. HK cycled the bolt, connecting a new gas cartridge.
"Malgus, stand down," the Twi'lek said in a calm voice. Turning to the droid, the Jedi asked, "What the hell was that for? He's in heavy armor — you can't punch through that with a rifle."
"Triumphant declaration: I know. But now he has five broken ribs and two massive bruises. A week in kolto for him."
The Twi'lek threw her head back and burst out laughing. A rolling bass echoed through the room. It went on for a couple of minutes, after which the Jedi controlling the Twi'lek's body asked, "Was that revenge?"
"Confirmation: I have waited three thousand six hundred twenty-one years for this," the droid reported. Then, making sure Malgus could barely stand from the pain, the droid returned the rifle to its mount. Turning to the Twi'lek whose body the Jedi controlled, HK studied the decision from its analysis module and logistics center.
"Resolution: I will join you, Jedi. Warning: I will be glad to commence genuine violence. Question with barely concealed hope: does anyone need their neck broken right now, owner?"
* * *
The Nu-class shuttle took its place in the lower hangar of the brand-new Venator. Bearing the proud name Serenity, the cruiser met us at the agreed point in orbit over Rodia. The Wanderer and the Veltraa escorted the shuttle and returned to the squadron.
"I am immeasurably wealthy," like the serpent of Eden, the Neimoidian whispered his voluptuous speeches into my ear. "And I can be generous with my allies..."
"And I am mortally tired of your company, Viceroy," I admitted. "And I'd gladly shorten your tongue with a lightsaber."
"But Jedi don't do that!" the Viceroy was horrified.
"Never too late to start," I suggested, descending the ramp. Behind me, Alpha pushed the alien forward. The three clone squads following us left the shuttle, forming up in three rows beside the ramp.
"And here comes the welcoming committee," Alpha snorted, nodding toward the trio of Senate Guards clad in blue armor. Though they weren't alone.
A short distance from them, a pretty girl of about fifteen or sixteen was walking, with long, curly dark hair. A sweet, slightly shy smile graced her face when I met her gaze. Dressed in a gray cloak that concealed her build and outer clothing, she stopped a few meters from us just as the conversation with the guards began.
"Captain Argus, Senate Commandos," the leader of the blue-armored trio introduced himself. A tall man with well-groomed golden hair, a pampered face, and an arrogant look. That's all I can say about him. "Greetings, General."
"Jedi Knight Rick Dougan," I knew beforehand that the man before me was Dooku's agent, but to draw my lightsaber right now and cut off his head... well, they wouldn't understand. "Is the brig ready?"
"Yes, sir, General," the captain grinned. "It's waiting for the scoundrel."
"Excellent," I nodded. "Alpha, take the first squad and escort the Viceroy to his new quarters."
"This is an outrageous violation of the administration of justice!" Nute Gunray declared. "I demand a lawyer..."
"Shut up and walk!" Alpha slammed his armored palm into the Neimoidian's back, making him nearly stumble.
As soon as the squad and commandos disappeared from the hangar, Argus turned to me.
"We could have handled it ourselves, General," he remarked. "That's what we were sent for," he reminded me.
"Extra security never hurts," I countered. "The Viceroy won't go to prison that easily. I wouldn't be surprised if Count Dooku's agents are already working to free him."
"In that case," the captain smiled, "they'll have their work cut out for them. He won't leave here that easily."
"Exactly, Captain," I confirmed.
The two of us, the captain and I, headed toward the airlock when the girl caught my eye.
"Captain," I stopped the guard. "And who is this?"
"You don't know?" he was surprised. "She's a Padawan from the Temple. The Jedi who put her on board said she's your apprentice."
* * *
"Mentorship is the path of every Jedi," Eeth Koth said didactically. "The Council believes you possess invaluable experience, Knight Dougan. And that you can pass it on to your Padawan."
"How old is she?" I asked the hologram of the Masters. "Thirteen? Fifteen?"
"Age is irrelevant," Adi Gallia remarked. "She is excellently educated and prepared. First in her class."
"She's a child!" I insisted. "She should be in the Temple reading books. This is a war. People die here every day. And you're sending a child halfway across the galaxy to me, against my will!"
"The Council has made its decision," Yoda concluded. "The Padawan will accompany you until the end of this mission. Once you return to the Temple, we will discuss her further fate."
The Council disconnected, leaving me irritated.
What a bunch of...
"I'm actually almost sixteen," the girl's voice came from the far corner of the communications center. "In six months I'll be sixteen."
"Thrilled for you," I snapped. Then, seeing the Padawan's confused face, I hurried to pull myself together. It wasn't her fault the Council had disregarded both her wishes and mine and dumped her on me as extra baggage. As if on purpose — first they summon me to Coruscant, then they burden me with an apprentice. Whose side are they even on?
You can't fight effectively when a kid is underfoot. Any of the Hands, the clones, even the militia know you can't expose yourself. One wrong move and you're dead. How am I supposed to drill that into a child's head?
I didn't believe the Council would change its decision and relieve me of the mentorship when I returned to Coruscant. That would mean there wasn't just a bullet in the Masters' heads, but a whole proton torpedo that hadn't detonated.
No, seriously, what assholes.
"Sorry, I needed to vent," I said to the kid. "I wasn't looking for an apprentice. The front lines are too dangerous for that."
"I know," the girl nodded. "I wanted to go to the front myself. Master Nu is a good teacher, of course, but..."
"You were the Archivist's apprentice?" It dawned on me.
"I was," the girl admitted. "But I can't sit in the Temple while others are fighting. Ahsoka Tano just turned fourteen — and she's already Skywalker's apprentice. And I..."
I ran my hand over my face. Seriously, couldn't they have sent at least a boy? A couple of smacks on the back of the head and he'd be as good as silk. Why a girl? Can't kick her, can't give her a whipping with a belt. I have to be nice and courteous — or she'll start crying and short-circuit all the wiring.
"We never properly introduced ourselves," I recalled. "Rick Dougan, your teacher." I extended my hand to the girl.
The little one approached me, shaking my massive paw, clad in ancient Sith armor, with her thin, snow-white hand.
"Oli Starstone, your Padawan."
Something clicked in my head once again.
* * *
Apparently, I'm never going to stop getting déjà vu in this galaxy. Whoever I talk to, I immediately remember reading about them on Wookieepedia or in the Legends books. The canon invented by Disney... well, let's not dwell on the sad stuff.
Oli Starstone was familiar to me as a character from the book about young Darth Vader's rise. She caused a lot of trouble for both allies and enemies. But mostly, she became the indirect cause of death for Jedi Knight Roan Shryke.
Walking with the girl toward the prison cells — the last thing I needed was for Gunray to sleep through everything — I half-listened to her talk about how she'd built her own lightsaber at fourteen. Nothing remarkable, an ordinary silver hilt with no frills. A blue blade, emphasizing her boundless energy. Fencing style — Ataru, and a bit of Soresu. Something about her midi-chlorian count and so on, and so on...
The girl, taking my calm tone for acceptance of her assignment, chattered incessantly, telling gossip from the Temple that, frankly, I couldn't care less about.
"Master," the trigger word snapped me out of my thoughts. "What kind of lightsaber and fencing style do you use?"
"Niman," I unclipped the hilt from my belt and handed it to the girl.
"Wow! Aurodium?"
"Yeah. And phrik."
"But why Niman? It's... inferior."
"What do you mean?" I didn't get it, stopping at what I'd heard. Then, when it dawned on me a second later, I resumed walking. "Don't listen to that nonsense. Niman is a perfectly respectable combat style. It's just that few people consider it necessary to study it properly."
"But nobody uses it anymore," the girl recalled.
"Yeah," I confirmed. "All its adherents stayed on Geonosis."
"But you're alive!" the girl noted.
"I got lucky," I said, not entirely lying. "My teacher put a lot of effort into making me a worthy Force adept."
"But why Niman?" the girl grimaced. "Skywalker uses Form Five..."
What's with the obsession? A Skywalker fan club or something?
"So what?" I clarified. "And Kenobi uses Soresu. Yoda uses Ataru. Dooku uses Makashi. Should I keep going?"
"No need," the girl was a little offended. "I just don't understand what makes Niman better..."
"Nothing," I admitted. Seeing the girl's eyes widen, I continued. "Niman has no advantages over other styles. But no disadvantages either. Adherents of this form use techniques from all previously created forms. And the style becomes more than just combinations and elements. It takes on the characteristics of its wielder's individuality. Improvisation, quick analysis of the situation and the opponent — that's what Niman is. Not the crude stuff Draillig teaches Padawans. I doubt he even knows Niman the way the Jedi of the Durousan period knew it."
"But Master Draillig is proficient in all forms of lightsaber combat!" the girl protested. Then, catching herself, she asked, "What's the Durousan period?"
Oh, for crying out loud! What do they teach kids in the Temple?
We turned a corner.
"The Jedi have always waged war against the Sith," I began my lecture. "About a thousand years ago, on the planet Ruusan, the Jedi and Sith clashed in the final battle, after which the Sith, as the Order believed, disappeared. After that victory, the Republic government and the Order decided to disband the Jedi army and armed forces. From warriors and generals, the Jedi became peacekeepers."
"No way!" the girl exclaimed. "They never told us that. But what about the Jedi Code? It tells us we must be..."
"Go ahead, recite the Code for me," I asked. "I've kind of forgotten it..."
"How can that be, Master?" the girl was indignant. "The Code is the foundation of our Order."
Then, almost chanting, she recited:
"There is no emotion — there is peace. There is no ignorance — there is knowledge. There is no passion — there is serenity. There is no chaos — there is harmony. There is no death — there is the Force."
"Hmm," I grunted. Then, straining my memory, I recited: "There is no ignorance — there is knowledge. There is no fear — there is power. I am the heart of the Force. I am the guiding light of the Light. I am the mystery of the Dark. In balance with chaos and harmony, Eternal in the Force."
"Wh-wh-what is that?" the girl stammered.
"The Je'daii Code," I shrugged. "The ancestors of the Jedi, who studied the Force tens of thousands of years before us. Not just the Light Side, but the Unified Force. Both the Light and Dark Sides. They lived on the planet Tython, in the center of the galaxy. The Force on the planet was always in balance. And if any Je'daii broke their balance in the Force, they were exiled to one of the planet's moons — Ashla for the Light, and Bogan for the Dark."
"But," the girl protested, "the Dark Side of the Force... it leads to selfishness, ruthlessness, lust for power..."
"Oh, really?" I asked. "And on the Light Side, everything's fine? Everyone's good and no one's ever done anything bad?"
"Yes!" the girl declared. "The Light Side..."
"Some time ago, the Jedi invaded the planet Galidraan and massacred the Mandalorians down to the last. Only after only a couple of survivors remained from the huge force did the Jedi realize they had been used just so the planet's governor could settle his scores with the Mandalorians."
Stunned by what she'd heard, Oli fell silent.
We reached the prison sector. Nodding to Alpha, I waited for the prison shield to drop and walked inside.
"Viceroy, meet Oli Starstone, my Padawan," I nodded toward the girl. "And she'll cut off your hands if you don't start talking..."
* * *
The Separatist fleet jumped in right in front of the cruiser, which was just preparing to jump into hyperspace.
The ship shuddered violently as the first salvos from heavy turbolasers raked across its hull.
"Battle stations!" the clone captain commanding the Serenity shouted. "Raise shields, launch starfighters."
"Captain, how many are there?" the Jedi's voice came through the comlink.
"Ten Munificents, sir. And a small fighter wing. Boarding pods with them. They've blocked the transition zone. They're trying to surround us..."
"Hold course, Captain. Launch starfighters and send infantry to the potential landing zones." The Jedi's cold orders calmed the captain. The Serenity was his first command. Same as for most of the crew. "Have the Hammerheads checked in?"
"They're jamming our communications, sir," the clone noted. "We can't reach your fleet. But your ships are already engaged — they're drawing the CIS forces away from us."
"Follow orders, Captain," the General commanded. "The Hammerheads will deal with the Munificents. We need to get to Christophsis..."
* * *
I dismissed the idea of staying to help the fleet immediately. It was obvious that if we started winning, they'd send a stronger fleet here. And then we'd be in a giant mess. Christoph's fleet was a different story. They'd tear the Separatists apart there.
"Well, Viceroy," I said. "Looks like they've come for you."
"Aaaaah," the Neimoidian bared his teeth. "A rescue mission."
"More like — cleaning up a talkative witness," I smirked.
"General," the ship's captain hailed me. "Droids in the hangars. They're pushing toward the prison block. Troopers report a woman with a lightsaber."
"Ventress," I said. Of course, just like in the cartoon, Dooku had sent an assassin. "Have the troopers handle the droids, Captain. The assassin is my concern."
Cutting the channel, I turned to leave.
"Master, I'm coming with you," the girl declared, recovered from my sudden outburst at the Neimoidian.
"Absolutely not, Oli," I shook my head. "Ventress is dangerous. Guard Gunray. He's the priority target."
"But..."
"No 'buts,' Padawan," I said, furrowing my brow. Unclipping the mask from my belt, I pressed it to my face. Barely audible clicks told me the armor had sealed. Icons from the configurable computer flashed before my eyes. "Do not leave the prison cell under any circumstances. I'll handle it myself."
"As you command, Master."
Leaving the cell, I nodded to Alpha.
"Keep an eye on things here."
"As you command, General."
"We won't sleep a wink, Jedi Knight," Captain Argus assured me.
"Yeah," I acknowledged.
Moving toward the exit of the prison block, I opened a secure channel to Alpha, giving him instructions regarding the Senate Commandos.
* * *
Destroying everything in her path, the Chiss moved toward her goal. The clones, whom she killed with ease, finally realized they should retreat. Firing as they went, they retreated deeper into the corridors, luring her after them.
The Venator's layout was in her head. Tann knew exactly where the prison block was, and while the droid squads tore the ship apart, exterminating everything alive in their path, she advanced toward her target.
Rescue or eliminate.
Gunray had no other options.
Kill. The Jedi's fate.
She would complete her mission, as she had done hundreds of times before. And no one would stop her.
Turning a corner, the girl stared in surprise at the figure clad in black armor. A cloak of expensive fabric covered his back and head, but one look at the lightsaber hilt clutched in his hands was enough for her to identify his affiliation. The only thing that troubled her was that she couldn't sense him in the Force.
"Jedi," the girl said melodiously, as if tasting the words, offering her opponent the traditional Makashi salute. The very one Count Dooku had taught her.
"Sev'rance Tann," came from beneath the helmet. "I was expecting Ventress."
"Not today," the girl smiled. "It's nice when enemies know you by sight."
"Yeah, I've heard," the Jedi said. "How about we put down our weapons, have a cup of caf, and go our separate ways?"
Hearing such an unusual manner of speech, the girl burst into ringing laughter.
"Really? Those will be your last words?"
"What, you think I'm going to talk about the weather with a Dark Acolyte?" the Jedi chuckled.
"Tell me your name, Jedi," the girl asked. "So I can remember you."
"Rick Dougan," the Jedi gave a mock bow. "But that probably won't help you."
"Why?" she was surprised.
"Well, you know how a woman's memory is," he explained. "Can't remember who you've given it to. How's Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo doing? Isn't he tired of exile yet?"
"What?" the Chiss was taken aback. How did he know about him? "I will kill you, Jedi," she assured him. "Slowly and with pleasure."
"I can't promise the same," the Jedi smirked. Then, activating a golden energy blade, he pointed it at the Chiss. "So, are we fighting, or are we going for caf?"
"You're already dead, Jedi," the girl promised.
"Well, that's just my luck," the Jedi said ruefully with a heavy sigh.
* * *
Tann began with a rapid advance on her opponent. His armor looked massive, which meant the Jedi should be slow.
Springing toward him, the girl delivered a downward slash in midair, ready to cut the insolent man in half.
The Jedi dodged with ease, covering his back from the glancing blow with a block. Spinning on his heels, he flung her back down the corridor with a Force push. Flying about ten meters, the girl landed on her chest, the air literally driven from her lungs. The Jedi didn't rush to finish her off, approaching slowly, spinning his lightsaber before him. The golden figure-eight allowed him to keep his distance and forced the girl to attack first.
Enraged, the Chiss woman charged the Jedi. He parried the hail of thrusts and feints with ease, breaking her combinations, occasionally launching counterattacks himself, forcing the girl to break off and disengage.
The Jedi was good. Unexpectedly good. His refined fencing skills allowed him to practically stand still and create an impenetrable defense before him, absorbing almost all of Sev'rance's tricky combinations. It was irritating. And infuriating.
Concentrating, she pulled an astromech droid that had ended up behind the Jedi toward herself. Hoping to trip him up, she sent the droid under her opponent's feet. He simply spun in place with virtuosity, ending up a meter from where the droid flew past. Now the Separatist commander herself had to dodge the projectile.
With a short roll, she closed the distance between them, thrusting her blade at the Jedi's face. But the blade clashed with a crack against his.
"You will die," their blades locked, allowing the opponents to see each other clearly. "I don't know where you found out..."
Without further ado, the Jedi swung his head and slammed his helmet into her face.
Blood burst from her broken nose and split lip. The Chiss staggered back.
"You talk too much," the Jedi stated his complaint. "What do you think I trained for?"
"You're definitely going to die," Tann allowed herself to draw on the Dark Side, concentrating it for a strike.
"Here we go again," the Jedi groaned. "Maybe I'll just buy you a cocktail, we'll sit down, have a drink... Agh, bitch..."
The conversation caught the man off guard. He wasn't ready for the Push, and thanks to that, the girl managed to drop the knight to the floor.
With a triumphant shriek, she lunged forward, ready to drive her blade into the Jedi's chest.
Instead of defending, the Jedi went on the attack.
With a jerk, he knocked the opponent off her feet and pulled the confused girl toward him. As soon as her face was close, he slammed his armored gauntlet into it. Then, rolling over, he sprang to his feet.
Tann got up. Slowly. Fatigue was taking its toll. The opponent was more than prepared. Strange for a Jedi. They're all inept...
The Chiss regretfully thought that she should have asked for backup.
"I don't want to kill you, Tann," the Jedi admitted. With a short stride, he returned to the corridor side, blocking her path to the prison cells. "Renounce your service to Dooku..."
"Never!!!" With a furious cry, the girl rushed at the Jedi.
Dougan stepped aside, letting her pass him. A massive kick, reinforced by the Force, gave the girl acceleration. Flying a dozen meters, she slammed into the end of the corridor. Pain clouded her mind, strength left her. The girl slid down the wall to the floor. Accumulating the Dark Side for a final surge, she watched as the Jedi moved unhurriedly toward her.
"Who are you taking after, being this stupid?" he asked. "Chiss have always been known for their strategic minds. You can see you can't win. Surrender!"
"Never!!!" The Darkness found a response in her. Letting it flow through herself, she gave it an outlet through her hands.
Force Lightning surged forward, branching and rapidly approaching the Jedi. He instinctively raised his energy blade in front of him, but it didn't save him. Tann's rage was so great that the lightning tore the blade from his hand.
An energy shield flared up almost immediately. Next, the thin silk cloak literally evaporated. The Jedi, convulsing, collapsed to his knees, then fell onto his side, twitching in the energy of the Dark Side. Seeing his suffering and hearing the screams coming from under the mask, Tann seemed to find a second wind. Strength returned to her. The Darkness made her rise, taking cautious steps toward the convulsively shaking Jedi.
She didn't know how long it took to kill a Jedi, but with a trained eye she noticed that his movements were becoming slower, quieter. A little more, just a moment...
"I told you you'd die," the girl said triumphantly, activating her own blade. One short stab to the heart, and this enemy, a worthy enemy, would fall...
She stopped emitting lightning, took the blade in both hands, swung it, ready to drive the tip into the man's chest.
With a quiet groan, the Jedi raised a trembling hand, extending it forward, as if trying to defend himself.
"That won't help," Tann laughed triumphantly, lowering the blade...
* * *
"All CIS ships destroyed," a clone captain's voice sounded in the comlink.
"The rescue mission failed," Oli declared, looking at Ganray's grinning face. Which, the same second, fell. "Looks like someone will still be arriving on Coruscant."
"Padawan Starstone," Captain Argus, standing near the terminal, gestured for her. "Look!"
The monitor displayed footage from a camera in the corridor adjacent to the prison block. Oli watched with delight as her teacher fought the enemy with visible ease. Parrying blows, he moved like an elegant dancer, dictating the rules of the fight to his opponent.
Then he slammed her into the wall where the camera was mounted. It seemed like another moment and the Jedi would emerge victorious...
"Nooooo!!!" Tears burst from the girl's eyes as she saw the mercenary's blade pierce the teacher's palm...
Activating her blade, Oli rushed forward.
Argus, smiling, glanced sideways at the clone remaining in the block. This was almost too easy.
Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to the screen. What was happening made his hair stand on end in all sorts of inappropriate places.
"To hell with this," he muttered, drawing his blaster from its holster. "I'm not staying here another minute..."
* * *
She made a mistake by deciding to check why the blade wasn't going deeper. Turning her face slightly aside, leaning on the hilt with both hands, she screamed in horror.
The Jedi's face mask fell apart, and now a face disfigured by electricity, burned, with split skin, stared at her. And eyes blazing with an amber color.
A powerful left fist to the head knocked the girl off the man. Her sword, clattering on the floor, deactivated.
"That's it, bitch," slowly, as if stretching out stiff thoughts, the Jedi stood up. Pieces of armor crunched and fell away from his suit, shattering into fragments upon contact with the floor. Trembling hands betrayed the tension that reigned in that body. "You're fucked."
The man crunched his foot down and crushed the hilt of her blade. With a low growl, he began moving toward her. Meanwhile, the Force around him swirled like a tornado, ready to sweep away anyone who stood in its path. And inside the storm walked he — immeasurably dark, with a clear intention to kill her, the Jedi. Who was not at all concerned that he was supposed to die.
With horror, Tann stared at the monster moving toward her. Burned, tortured, but the Jedi walked toward her. In fear, the girl pressed her back against the wall. Somewhere to the right she heard footsteps and saw a little girl rushing toward her, blade at the ready. "Apprentice!" flashed through her mind.
As soon as the girl was close enough, Tann tore her from her spot, throwing her at the burned Jedi, who had just approached her, reaching out his hands to strangle her.
The Padawan, like a fired projectile, crashed into the Jedi. Tumbling, both fell to the ground.
There could be no talk of finishing him off. Terror gripped her. He had survived her greatest rage. He had absorbed her energy blade. And after all that, he still had the strength to move. She felt an indescribable fear, which, like into a vacuum, was sucked into the aura of the Dark Side surrounding the Jedi. But this wasn't a Jedi. It was a machine. A Sith droid, saturated with the energy of the Dark Side. And it thirsted for her death.
Stepping over the bodies, the Chiss pulled the Padawan's blade to herself and ran. Perhaps for the first time in her life, she ran from her greatest triumph.
Getting to her feet, Oli, overcoming horror and disgust, felt her teacher's barely noticeable pulse. Unconscious, with a hoarse voice and a barely rising chest, he lay unconscious on her lap.
Fifteen minutes later, when the clones of the 204th Legion, who had arrived to reinforce Alpha, saw this scene, they were struck not by the devastation in the corridor. Not even by the disfigured body of the commander.
A fragile girl, whom they had all seen for the first time today, sat on the icy floor of the corridor, sobbing. The Jedi's head rested on her legs. Touching the ugly shreds of tissue and skin, the baked mess of blood and bone, the child kept saying:
"Please don't die, please don't, teacher..."