The mission on Ryloth involved me opposing Dengo Hutt, Jabba's relative, who was engaged in the slave trade and the smuggling of dangerous animals. More precisely, it was Master Tholme's mission — who, by the way, was my colleague in the Shadow Corps. Only unlike me, Tholme was a true professional in infiltration and espionage. My specialization, many considered not without reason, was the elimination of dark-siders. However, given recent events, my specialization could be redefined as "elimination of non-standard situations and various problems, including those of galactic scale.".. At least, Celeste told me that some knights and masters of the Order highly appreciated my performance at Troiken and my subsequent Senate speech. My mission on Ryloth was specifically to track how Sheygen was involved. My old comrade-in-arms from the Matukai had been spotted on Ryloth. But since the Matukai were mostly left alone by our Order, unless their actions threatened innocents, no one knew what to do with Sheygen appearing there. Over time, he had gained influence in his Order, and no one wanted to simply "touch" him — that is, eliminate him. Quite possibly, knowing Sheygen, he had a serious reason to show up on Ryloth and hang around near Dengo Hutt's minions.
Of course, as a Shadow, I was theoretically supposed to stay in the shadows. But Shadow work was never my desire, nor was it among my ambitions. I needed to make myself visible, preferably before the canon events, starting to build a reputation in the Order. Otherwise, up to a certain point, all I'd done was travel across the Galaxy and grow personally stronger. But I needed not only personal strength but also decent political capital so I could push things through... After all, in politics — first you work for your reputation, then your reputation works for you. And until we reach "continuing politics by other means" on a Galactic scale, and a lasting one at that, I have to use other events.
The Stark Conflict was such an event. I made a sharp statement about myself... My Troiken speech, as it was called, stirred up public discourse. Experts of all stripes — including armchair ones — suddenly became active... Some shouted that we needed an army, others — like that same Alira Mothma — feared that everyone would try to solve their personal problems with an army. And some, like Trinka Padaunete, were looking for a double bottom in all this... And with "success" they found it, coming up with such conspiracy theories that my brain exploded a little... Literally... But psychiatric clinics are at their service, as some concerned HoloNet users advised.
The reaction to my speech came not only from the Jedi Order, which through Windu chewed me out and through Tivokki thanked me. First, as noted — the militarist faction was shaken. Tarkin was kicked out — he had been too "dense," wanted to set up his own fleet, had interfered with a Jedi commander, and in the end turned out to be a lousy commander despite all his bravado. A certain Navi, King Alaric's nephew, also flew out like a cork. He tried to ride the wave of my speech into that interesting crowd but was laughed out. Among the newly formed militarist faction, it suddenly became fashionable not just to be a senator, but preferably to have "pulled the strap" somewhere — to have participated in at least one firefight. They suddenly and unexpectedly realized that people like Tarkin didn't do them credit.
The leader of the militarists, as I was informed, became August Grant of House Mecetti. He was a senator from the Tapani sector — a wealthy sector obsessed with aristocratic traditions. I had already encountered people from there... Worthy beings could appear from there in principle, but mostly arrogant aristocrats showed up. However... August was not like that. Having served in the Judicial Forces on his own initiative — and he could have served in his own sector's security forces instead of joining the Justice Department, especially on the Outer Rim — August was a reasonable man. He, by the way, invited me to his son Octavian Grant's name-day celebration, which, given the guest list, was quite a political dinner party. I had no intention of refusing him — even if I can't play a political role there, showing my face at such an event is useful.
Immediately after my speech, there was also a reaction from the Judicial Forces, together with Anaxis. The "Board of Senior Officers" held a meeting and granted me the rank of Admiral of the Republic. Naturally — honorary, since I haven't commanded all that much. But everyone was impressed by the speed, effectiveness, and furor. Also, these people were impressed by the fact that I had taken their side, so they sent me a patent for the admiral's rank and a blue admiral's dress coat of the Judicial Forces. It was flattering and showed recognition. The uniform, by the way, was ceremonial, and I intended to wear it to August Grant's reception. To show them that yes, I'm a Jedi, but I'm also one of their own for the militarists. The militarists nowadays are not just army fanatics. They support strengthening state power, centralizing the Republic, and creating a full-fledged army and fleet. Moreover, many of them don't even lean toward the stereotypical desire — as some imagine — to establish a dictatorship. These beings would like all this, but precisely to reform the Republic, not to completely turn it into a despotic dictatorship.
That's exactly what I wanted too. To build a state that preserves the basic principles of the Republic, but at the same time — a state that is more or less strong. Tighten the screws a little... And who says that's impossible? It's possible, it's not a fairy tale — you just have to work, not shout. That's what I planned to do for the next fifty years or so. I have a lot of work ahead... And for now, I was spinning around in the ceremonial dress coat of a Justice admiral, examining myself from all sides.
"You know, I like it," came Celeste's voice. She had just come out of the bathroom and was looking at me in my Judicial Forces uniform. "Except — use your Shadow skills when you go out in it. Otherwise, everyone will turn around."
I sighed.
"Everyone turns to look at me anyway. But there was no choice," I replied to the woman who was now wearing only a robe. "My speech was necessary — for the Republic and for the Jedi Order. The sooner we start talking about the need for change, the sooner it will be accepted... Though... Some events can't be changed now, no matter how much we talk about the need for change. I foresee a great war in the next thirty years... And it won't be the Stark Conflict..."
"The Sith?" Celeste asked. "Practice shows that even the Ruusan massacre didn't get rid of them."
The woman's gaze suddenly became serious. The fact that she had been with me for a long time had taught her to sense my mood and take my words seriously.
"Even without their involvement," I shook my head, "it will happen anyway. The Sith... They will certainly try to wipe us off the face of the Galaxy if they exist, but even if they don't, Celeste, it changes nothing. The megacorporations are growing stronger; their private armies are centers of power. And the Republic government is weak... Weaker than many thought. The Stark Conflict showed that. Which megacorporation will try to impose its vision of how we should all live? Any of them, really. And those two hundred heavy cruisers that Kalpana ordered from Rendili won't fix the situation much — they'll only balance it out... We need a full-scale reform. Reform of the Order, reform of the Republic. But neither of them wants to do it, even after everything I've shown and told them."
"Haven't you thought about forcing them?" Morne asked me. "Crushing them all with your will and desire? You've become a wonderful man, with a strong will and character... A far cry from what you used to be."
"You read my personal file?" I inquired.
"Kind, naive, even cowardly..." she smirked. "Even though you showed 'the mind of an adult' as a child, your instructors noted you were weak in character and will. Now you're different. You know much more than many Jedi and senators. And you presume to tell everyone yourself how they should live..."
"That's despotism, Celeste. A dictatorship that I don't accept... Yes, sometimes, at night, in my sleep, thoughts come to me that I could order by force... And many would follow me, because my words have support," that was true. Especially after the Troiken Report. If I wanted to try suppressing everything by force, right now is fertile ground. "But what then? How long will my sanity hold?"
"Sanity?"
"Power corrupts, one way or another. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Why don't I accept dictatorship? Because it's 'not the Jedi way'? I've broken the Code many times... Sexual and romantic relationships, premeditated killings, to some extent torture and 'force method' interrogations... No, a one-person dictatorship is unacceptable to me, because everyone has their own margin of safety... Their reserve of sanity, my dear. Someday — it runs out, and then the dictator becomes a carbon copy of his former self. At the beginning of his rule, he might still talk to those who disagree with him and use their views effectively for the country's benefit. But at the climax and beyond, the dictator can't even conceive that someone might disagree with him... He'll think only he is right in this world... It doesn't matter what the dictator was like at the start of his rule. The outcome is the same — he loses his mind. That's the reality for all dictators... Sooner or later, it awaits them all. The inevitable arrival of the fact that there is only 'my opinion and the wrong one' on a Galactic scale can only lead to war... No. You can't save the Galaxy by cutting a path to resolution with a sword. On the contrary... You need to create a demand — an adequate demand for change. Only when the majority in the community understands what is needed and why — then those changes will be the most sane and lasting. When they understand that the Republic must change and carry out that change themselves — that Republic will stand for tens of thousands of years. The same applies to the Order. Understanding, not submission. Only then can we build something incredible that won't just exist for a certain moment in time — but for our entire lives, and will continue after. Do you understand?"
"I understand that you've sworn allegiance to democracy..."
"Before — I truly swore allegiance to the Republic and democracy, but remember — I went through the Alderaanian University, where I practically studied to be a politician. And there I could have changed my views... But I only became more entrenched in my opinion... Became more of a democrat, if you will. Though... To tell you the truth — I want the Republic, yes, to remain a Republic, but to become a slightly harsher and more centralized state. Preserving the election system for the Senate, though changing the laws on appointing senators from sectors. Specifically — no more 'royal' and other decrees. Senators are elected in the sectors. The creation of full-fledged ministries, an army, an intelligence service, our participation — as Jedi — in political life, and simultaneously — changing the Order itself. Lifting a number of old restrictions... And most importantly: adopting the concept that 'good must have fists, not just wise words.'"
"But... Light, you must understand that recreating the demand for everything you listed — both in the Order and in the Republic — could take more than a century... Or... Just don't tell me you have a plan. You know something," she guessed. "Something that neither the Council of First Knowledge nor even the Masters of the High Council know." She didn't look away. "The abilities to manage the Force in the Order have weakened. Other Jedi couldn't have failed to notice that."
"Yes, the problem is that we've become mired in dogmatism... and in the Sith," I smirked. "And I'm not talking about the dark-side self-taught types we cut down, but about a full-fledged Master and Apprentice. While our Order is mired in dogmatism and carrying out the Senate's will, the Sith have been gathering power and are now quite ready to 'play' with us... But they'll play by their own rules on their own territory. Which makes resistance many times harder. The Order should lean into practice and begin directly influencing Republic politics. And revise its views on the Force a little."
"In short, you want to reform everything, but only when the demand is created. How are you different from Windu?"
"In that I intend to do something, while Windu only talks about wanting to do something. Actions speak louder than words, Celeste. And when the time comes, you'll see."
"Yeah, right," she noted sarcastically. "Because of Dreypa's Oubliette's influence — I'll certainly live to see the 'created demand.'"
"Just don't die from something before then," I snorted, finally fully dressed in my ceremonial uniform, adjusting everything that needed adjusting on the coat, and glancing once more at the address where August Grant had invited me. The five-hundredth house on Republic Avenue, huh? Little Octavian is only a year old, and Octavian himself is currently in the Tapani sector. So this dinner is more of a political event, as I noted earlier. Respected senators will meet over dinner, discuss interesting deeds and events, drink, eat, and perhaps go off to grope beautiful ladies. They might even come to some agreements before that. Politics, in general...
* * *
I reached the five-hundredth house on Republic Avenue — where many senators' quarters are located and where they can hold dinner parties — on a speeder. Walking through the Temple, I caught interested looks from my colleagues. Some looked approvingly, smiled... But there were those who didn't appreciate my performance. However, I decided to tune those beings out for now. The admiral's uniform, by the way, fit me perfectly, as if tailored just for me. Under the coat sleeves I managed to place my vambraces, so I went to the reception with my lightsabers and the "cat." On my hands I wore white gloves. Neatly ironed blue trousers were on my legs, and the blue tunic covered my upper body.
When I first received all the necessary clothing items, I thought about attaching the hood I'm so accustomed to using during missions to the tunic. But I abandoned that idea — after all, what's the point of sewing it onto such a ceremonial uniform?
The building rose in the Embassy Complex, not far from the Senate building and the Jedi Temple. And it was full-fledged, elite housing. An enormous number of apartments, restaurants, halls, holotheaters... It had fifty-three air docks, hundreds of private turbolifts, and the security force here was comparable in size to the army of some Outer Rim planet, while being trained far better. Docking at one of the bays, I went to the checkpoint. Since I didn't have a permanent pass, I was thoroughly searched.
"I'm here by invitation from August Grant."
"Yes," the security officer nodded. "Many are going to his dinner party today. Light Flyingstar, Jedi Master."
I nodded.
"Well then, please state the code that was in the invitation," the guard demanded. "It's individual for each guest."
"And if I had given that code to someone else?"
"Then you wouldn't have been allowed in to the dinner," the guard replied. "Additionally, you would have lost your reputation in the eyes of respected Senator August Grant. Who's ever heard of someone responding to his invitation... in such a manner without a significant reason. Now, please state the invitation code," the man said.
I repeated the string of letters and numbers I had seen.
"Well, well — for once someone recited the code without looking at a datapad," the guard remarked. "Weapons?"
"Not necessary, I have my own."
"You think we're joking?" the man asked me seriously.
"I think someone like me can be trusted. I'm a Jedi, and I don't have a habit of attacking unarmed people. So I'd like you to make an exception for me. I assure you, nothing is in danger."
"Captain?" the man contacted his superior via comlink.
"Let him through," a man's voice replied. "He's a Jedi. Attacking senators so openly would be stupid. Besides, with his weapons, he could even protect them if something happens."
"Come in, Jedi Master," the guard said. Behind me, five more invited guests were crowding. I was let through to the turbolift. "To the hundredth floor," came the voice behind me. "They'll escort you there."
The turbolift moved quite quickly. Well, of course... the hundredth floor. There, I was met by a woman in a white dress with a respectable... neckline. She smiled welcomingly.
"Good evening, honored guest," the golden-haired woman's voice was pleasant. She must be "experienced" and trained to greet politicians and wealthy fat-cats at such events. I'm sure there are many more like her at the event itself, walking among the guests, offering champagne and various treats. And for someone — extending the evening "in a more intimate setting." "This way, please."
I went where she indicated.
"Have a pleasant evening."
Spacious... The rooms where the name-day was being celebrated — even without the actual honoree — were enormous and filled with tables laden with food and alcohol. And as I had initially guessed, there were plenty of women like the one who had greeted me walking around. All in white dresses, moderately revealing. If one wished, one could look at the cleavage... Or, for some fetishists, glance at the legs, since the women wore black stockings... No idea who's a fan of that, but there are plenty of enthusiasts for such attire even in the Galaxy.
The evening was essentially just beginning, so most of the guests, as far as I could tell, were already present. First of all, since this is officially a name-day, I needed to approach either the guest of honor — who is currently cooing somewhere in the Tapani sector — or his representative, which is the case here. I approached a solid-looking, distinguished man with jet-black hair and attentive green eyes. He was dressed, like me, in an officer's dress coat of the Judicial Forces.
"Jedi Master," August Grant smiled at me. He stood surrounded by several other officers and senators. "I'm glad you accepted my invitation. Honestly, I thought your Order might consider such an invitation... somewhat inappropriate."
"Senator August Grant," I greeted the man. "The Order found my speech somewhat inappropriate too, but I'll tell you this — no one there can forbid attending dinner parties. And frankly, I was somewhat surprised to be invited by someone like you."
"Beings with similar thoughts should stick together, honored Jedi Master."
"Just Light."
"In that case — just August for me," he smiled.
"August, allow me to congratulate your son, Octavian, on his name-day. A whole year — that's important in a child's life."
"I'll pass on your words, though he won't understand them for a long time," the senator laughed. "Enjoy yourself. As you can see, only worthy people have gathered here, who think much the same as you."
That was certainly true. And they clearly weren't going to let me "just attend." Because, judging by the looks of the officers present, many wanted to talk to me. And what they wanted to talk about obviously related to the Troiken affair.
"It's heartening to see that our Academy can still produce someone worthy of wearing this uniform not just for years of service," a bald man of about fifty with a bushy mustache approached me. "Professor Rozvald Hyders from the Anaxian Academy," he introduced himself. Several Judicial Forces officers from the upper echelon, so to speak, came with him.
"Admiral of the Judicial Forces — Jairs Halton," another man introduced himself. "And these are my adjutants," he indicated two other beings with a nod. "Milton Chezwik and Roksel Dalion."
"A pleasure," I nodded.
"I would like to talk with you about many things, Light," Rozvald remarked. "But first I must express my gratitude on behalf of our rector. Grantira Olaf, since your victory glorified our Academy."
"Truly, Rozvald, I should be the one grateful to the Academy. Though I took courses remotely, I doubt I would have achieved all that I have if I hadn't studied at all."
"And I thought I'd never see a real Jedi," noted one of the un-introduced officers. "Mour Kwanrot."
"Excuse me?" I pulled a glass of champagne from a nearby tray — credit where it's due, if the waitress was surprised, she didn't show it. "Mour?"
"I mean that since the Ruusan Reformation, you Jedi do nothing but walk around with wise expressions and sing your song of peace. That none of you would even shed a drop of blood for this world," he snorted. "The Outer Rim is literally burning from various problems. Pirates, corporate lawlessness, issues within sectors. And you just walk around shouting that you're the Peacekeepers of the World."
"Quite critical," I commented on Mour's rebuke. I should note that among those present, he was the youngest, though he wore the insignia of a major. Generally speaking, ranks in the Judicial Forces were rather unstructured. For instance, a sector fleet could be commanded by a vice admiral, a rear admiral, or a full admiral. The last rank was given to me after resolving the Stark Crisis, though it was more honorary. But in remote sectors, command could be held by someone below admiral rank. Although according to regulations, only an admiral — not necessarily a full one — could command a sector Judicial fleet. But where are we supposed to find a thousand twenty-four admirals? And the Senate Committee on Army and Navi... is mostly a decorative body now. By the way, the Militarist faction has nothing to do with that Senate committee. So it turns out the Senate Committee on the Navi isn't friendly with those who advocate most for the army and navy... "Though there's some truth to it. But it seemed to me you were accusing me of something, Mour."
"Not you. Your Order, yes."
"Funny life I have. Trinka Padaunete, the one I saw, accuses the Order of doing something, and you accuse it of supposedly doing nothing... But you're both lying. Because one doesn't understand the goals and mission of our Order, nor its views on the Galaxy, and you, Mour — have no idea why Jedi are useless..."
"Oh, perhaps you'll tell us why?" one of Mour's friends asked sarcastically.
"Because there are too few Jedi. We number about the same as the sectors, that's true, but not all Jedi specialize in what I, for example, do."
"Then you need to make yourselves start specializing..."
"Easy... Repeal the Ruusan Reformation," I smirked. Rozvald coughed. And I understand him. Repealing that reform in the Senate right now is impossible. "We can't do what we should also because such restrictions have been placed on us. But you can't repeal that reform, can you?" I looked into Mour's brown eyes. "Which means you have no right to demand anything beyond what we are capable of under that reform. So, what do you say, Mour?"
"To be honest," Rozvald noted. "I think this reform is unnecessary too. And I'm not saying that in the context of it limiting Jedi. I'm saying it in the context that we need a full-fledged fleet. For example — what are your impressions of the tactical and technical characteristics of the 'Dreadnoughts'?" the professor asked me.
"The 'Dreadnoughts' are good in the current context. I'm glad these ships are in the possession of the Judicial Forces."
"And what if I told you there are ships that, in a single unit, are more powerful than five or six 'Dreadnoughts'?"
"Are you referring to those behemoths in the Kuat sector?" I inquired. "Yes, those are impressive vessels. I assume any admiral would want to make such a ship the core of his fleet. I wouldn't mind commanding one myself; maybe someday I'll be able to give the order 'fire all weapons' from the bridge of such a ship. I'm sure the sight would be... magnificent."
"However, the Ruusan Reformation prohibits us from purchasing such ships," another Judicial Forces officer noted. "Which is a pity. I would gladly trade all my rusty tubs for one of those. With a full complement of small craft."
"The trade isn't profitable," I noted. "You chase pirates, and they might be afraid of that ship. But any Superliner needs an escort, not just of small craft, but also of other smaller ships. Otherwise, you'll get hit with ion cannons, they'll knock out the shield generators, and then blow up the engines... And the explosion might reach the reactor. It'll go boom so loud that from the other end of the sector, people will ask: 'guys, what was that?'"
"And he's right, Renskyns," Professor Rozvald remarked. "As long as I've known you, you always forget about cover in the simulator. Relying on big guns is fine, but without small ones, you won't last long."
Our pleasant discussion about tactics, big guns, and equally big ships was interrupted about ten minutes later by the host of the celebration himself. He gave a speech saying how glad he was to see us all there. In response, loud wishes of all the best to Octavian were heard.
"By the way, Light," Augustine noted, as those present dispersed into interest groups again and I intended to return to the officers to discuss tactics, strategy, and the monsters from Kuat. "I would like to introduce you to someone who, besides you, is an important inspiration for our views in the Senate. You are, of course, the ideological inspiration, and the mentioned individual is more of a financial one. Let me introduce you," next to Augustine stood a tall Muun in dark clothes. "Mister Hego Damask."
If I was surprised by Plagueis's presence here, I instantly recalled all the lessons in diplomacy, politics, and acting that I had completed in practice and theory. So I didn't show it.
"Good evening, esteemed Hego Damask," I greeted the Muun. "I am flattered that a figure of the financial world such as yourself understands the correctness of the views held by the supporters of the esteemed August Grant."
"Good evening, Master Jedi," the Muun bowed slightly. Plagueis was tall, like all Muuns, bald and well-built. Not a drop of darkness emanated from him; he hid himself that well. "Rather, your views. I was deeply moved by your speech in the Senate, which is why I decided to help our beloved Republic become stronger. And by the way," he looked somewhere behind me. "Allow me to introduce my close friend and partner — Senator Sheev Palpatine."
"Senator," I turned around and smiled at Palpatine.
"Master Jedi... Light and I are already acquainted, esteemed Hego," Palpatine said. "We met back when you were still called a knight, if I'm not mistaken, on Alderaan."
"With all due respect, isn't the Chommell sector, which you represent, considered a bastion of pacifism?" I asked Palpatine.
"That's a fair question, Master Jedi," Palpatine noted. "But you know, I've made an interesting observation for myself. If you want peace, prepare for war. As a free man, I dare to hope that the rule of my sector, represented by the Monarch of Naboo, will understand and accept my views. Besides, I am very flattered to be among all these wonderful sentients. And I also wanted to see you, Master Jedi. You've become quite famous lately. Would you like to go to the opera with me? There's a wonderful piece I want to enjoy the day after tomorrow."
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline your invitation. The Order has given me an assignment, and I must fly to the location of its execution."
"Ah, the Jedi's duty," Plagueis remarked. "You make our Galaxy better, but at the same time, you have almost no time for yourselves."
"Indeed," Augustine noted. "In your Order, they won't even give you a hint of rest."
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," I replied to them. "If I rest... who will do my work? But don't worry. I'll definitely rest when all the work is done."
"And when will that be?" Palpatine asked cheerfully.
"Someday, it will be."
"Speaking of work, Light," Augustine looked at me. "What do you think about the Chancellor's purchase of modified 'Dreadnoughts'?"
"Sounds promising," I answered the question. "Although I think the Slave Circuit software isn't necessary there. And here's why..."
The gala evening seemed never-ending. Discussions of tactics, discussions of various starships and fleets, as well as funding. But I felt some relaxation nonetheless, even despite the Sith, who this time had arrived at the evening in full force. And I'm saying this considering Maul, who still couldn't hide perfectly, so I was able to detect him in the Force, but did nothing. It's not time yet... The evening ended for me when I woke up not in the Temple, but in one of the hotels in the Embassy Quarter, in the arms of a lady I had rescued from the clutches of one of the Judicial Forces officers. He had drunk himself to the level of "Boris Yeltsin" and started vomiting, while clearly "wanting to show what a real officer is.".. In the end — he went to show it to the mirror in the toilet, and I stumbled upon "gratitude" from the beautiful brunette... All that's left is to figure out — am I ashamed before Celeste for such an ending to the gala evening? Or maybe I should stop reflecting; we're not husband and wife after all...