Three days had passed since I captured the Jedi. Ventress was almost immediately sent off somewhere to escort the traitor‑Jedi, and I was given a similar task — to ensure the prisoners were delivered intact to some retrofitted "Jedi prison" bucket of a Providence-class ship. Pretty luxurious, to say the least, but for a Council member, Dooku was willing to spare no expense. At least he didn't order them all killed on the spot — otherwise I'd have had to arrange their escape far too hastily, and anything done in a rush is always too easy to expose.
Of course, since they weren't planning to kill them, the temptation was to let everything run its course — but something felt wrong. It's always better to be cautious, and besides, I had developed a brilliant plan. The prison ship was commanded by a single living captain, while the entire rest of the crew were droids. And surprisingly, the captain wasn't one of the usual Neimoidians, but a human. His task was to transport the Jedi to some classified planet or station — I wasn't sure which. For experiments, maybe… I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that Palpatine experimented with cloning Jedi, and even had some success, which was a disturbing thought.
By the way, my pet revolutionaries — a.k.a. the R.G.A. — helped me with the planning and would help with the execution. The core of the plan was to frame the ship's captain as a traitor and a hidden Republic agent. By planting incriminating evidence and timing my arrival on his ship right after the Jedi "escaped," I could "catch him red‑handed," with a little help from fabricated camera footage, droid logs, and so on.
Then Palpatine — playing both sides — would be able to "verify" whether our captain was truly a loyal Republic agent and what mission he had been carrying out while the poor Chancellor was "unaware." This was where the R.G.A. would help — during our last meeting we had reasoned that besides supporting each other politically to gain influence on various planets, we also needed a network of informants. Even if our agents hadn't yet risen to high ranks, they could already gather and share information, making things easier for other members — and for me personally.
In short, we found a corrupt official in the Republic command to pin everything on. All that remained was to send an order "from him" dated for yesterday. And I'd pray Palpatine didn't send that mind‑reading subordinate of his to interrogate him.
So there I was, preparing, building my simple but effective plan — but fate, or the Force, had its own ideas. Because the moment I dropped out of hyperspace on "my" Generous-class frigate, kindly left to me by Dooku, I was greeted by a truly spectacular sight. To be precise — a beating. Three Venators were blasting the Providence dreadnought that was supposed to receive my prisoners. Or more precisely — right before my eyes, the dreadnought split apart under concentrated fire, and in the flash of what looked like a reactor detonation, it ceased to exist.
"Sir. The Providence-class ship has been destroyed. Probability of successful prisoner transfer: 0%. Republic forces outnumber us three to one," reported the nearest OOM droid.
"Why haven't you activated the shields yet? They're already turning toward us — we need to get out of here!"
But the damned tin can droned:
"Protocol 227‑A: Shields remain deactivated while docking procedures are incomplete. Docking with Providence was canceled at 14:23:07 Galactic Standard Time," buzzed another buckethead without looking up from the screen, while the first one added:
"Sir, awaiting instructions?"
Now I fully understood why every "villain" in the series, once given command of these tin cans, destroyed them at every opportunity. I suddenly felt the same urge. Fine — not the time to fry them with Force lightning.
"Activate shields. Patch me through to the enemy ships. While I distract them, prepare for a hyperspace jump. Coordinates: nearest CIS‑controlled world."
"Sir, Republic fighters approaching. Orders?" asked a third tin can, and my eye twitched. Do they really need orders for every single action?
"Launch the Vultures, intercept them, fire all batteries!"
Our ship had only two wings of those flying droids — I didn't even know how many were in a wing, since I'd only started learning this stuff a couple days ago — but judging by what I saw, about a hundred launched to meet the Republic fighters. Though I couldn't see all of them from the bridge.
"Confirmed. Turbolasers charged. Targeting complete. Fighter droids deployed. Calculating hyperspace coordinates: process will take one to two minutes," droned a droid from the back of the bridge. My other eye began twitching.
"We just arrived via hyperspace — just reverse the coordinates!"
"Sir, that is dangerous. Safety protocols forbid it. Shall we calculate a new jump?"
Right. The galaxy moves. My "brilliant" idea wasn't so brilliant.
"Yes, damn it! And hurry!" I barked.
I didn't hear the reply — the nearest enemy ship fired on us. Judging by the impact, it was proton torpedoes or something similar. The Generous shook violently, but nothing critical was damaged. They were testing us.
Finally, the enemy accepted our transmission — and the hologram of a man I could never mistake appeared. Kenobi himself. Clearly someone had tipped off the Jedi about when and where we were transporting their beloved Council member and his "backup dancers." And it wasn't my revolutionaries — I hadn't given them the signal to act yet. Well, no choice — distress signal sent, but reinforcements wouldn't arrive anytime soon. I'd have to handle this myself…
"Cease fire — we're transporting Jedi prisoners. I advise caution; I'd hate for my ship to explode like that unfortunate Providence," I began with my strongest card. Kenobi only gave a faint mustached smirk and replied:
"So, Brut? I've heard of your 'accomplishments.' Surrender, and I guarantee you a fair trial."
A "fair trial." Sure. He should've offered amnesty.
"I'm afraid that once you free the Korun I'm holding, he won't hesitate to take my head off, trial or no trial," I said slyly. No effect.
"Jedi don't do that. But if it eases your mind, I can escort you personally," he said as if it were absolute truth. Sure. Jedi aren't people anymore — they're robots.
"Sir, hyperspace coordinates calculated," a droid interrupted. And of course Kenobi heard that too. Stupid tin cans.
I had to act fast. Kenobi immediately ordered concentrated ion fire on our engines, and I gave the signal for the jump. But there was a problem — we needed to turn slightly to enter hyperspace, and the enemy saw our vector and blocked it with a Venator.
"Sir, while the enemy ship blocks the flight vector, we cannot enter hyperspace," another droid reported.
Well, nothing to be done. I wanted to do everything cleanly, to stay "innocent," but I'd have to use the Sith technique of "tactical retreat while the enemy kills the stupid droids." I had a personal ship — a slightly modified Star Courier. I'd escape on that.
Unfortunately, even a Sith or a genius strategist can't win with one bucket of bolts against three capital ships with no technological advantage. I'd say the clones freed the Jedi too quickly… though that sounded weak. Wait — there was still that no‑name Jedi I could bring as a prisoner while the others "escaped." That way I wouldn't return empty‑handed, and I could claim it was all part of a trap. Yes — the Korun and the Nautolan could run far away.
"Well then, Kenobi — it was a pleasure, but I hope it's the last time," I said to the still‑active hologram, then cut the transmission and ordered the droids to prepare for boarding — the Republic would surely send troops.
At the same time, I ordered the bridge droids to fight to the last, and I sprinted to the lifts. Reaching the correct cell, I grabbed the only conscious prisoner with the Force and hurried toward the hangar. At the same time, I activated the hidden detonators I'd planted near the doors of Mace's and Kit Fisto's cells. The cells were in different parts of the ship — by the time they reached me, it would be too late. And they still had to retrieve their sabers from the armory. All under droid fire. Though the clones were already drawing the droids' attention. Fast little bastards.
Reaching my ship, I tossed the Jedi into the passenger compartment — she wore shock‑binders that constantly disrupted her concentration, and there was no weapon inside — then, surrendering myself to the Force as much as possible, I piloted the ship into space and activated all stealth systems. It had radiation dampeners, heat masking, and a special protocol that let it "pretend" to be space debris.
I gave the ship initial thrust, let the astromech compute a hyperspace jump, then shut down the engines, letting us drift away while I watched the battle unfold.
All the Vultures were shredded. More and more dropships flew toward the Generous, and its guns had fallen silent. I tore myself away from the spectacle and injected the prisoner with a compound meant to knock her out for a day. Though since she was a Jedi, I doubted it would last long — but it would prevent her from using the Force to "call" for help.
Enemy fighters passed by us three times but didn't fire. Whether it was my Force persuasion or the stealth systems, I didn't know — but after ten minutes, once the route was calculated and we were out of weapons range, I powered everything up and sped toward the jump point.
The enemy noticed, but the distance was too great — they couldn't catch me. Finally, I entered hyperspace and escaped that inhospitable system. Where to? I tapped the nearest CIS‑controlled world on the map.
Inside me, anger boiled — but contacting Dooku during hyperspace was impossible, and it was better to speak with a cool head anyway. I needed to calm down. Unfortunately, I had no one to train with, and firing lightning inside a ship — especially a small one — was a terrible idea. I asked the technicians about it once, and they told me confidently that a lightning‑absorbing alloy could be made, but from materials so rare and expensive that it would be cheaper to buy a new ship after every training session. Probably an exaggeration, but I got the point — no one was building me a "training room."
Instead, I focused on self‑development. I'd downloaded a ton of information about CIS and Republic technology onto my datapad, so I began studying. Eventually I'd be given support units, and I needed to know their capabilities and weaknesses. Right now, I could only name the most recognizable ships by silhouette — nothing more. I had a great memory for images, but names and numbers slipped away, so I made lots of bookmarks.
Naturally, after about an hour of reading, I passed out. I dreamed of home. Not Earth — Taales' home. His life had been hard, with vague memories of parents whose faces I never saw — the mind simply didn't "show" them, but in the dream it felt natural. I saw the harsh life, Taales working tirelessly. Even then he could use the Force, which helped him survive, though no one cared about slaves. Until one day he was taken…
At that beautiful moment — when the memories of arriving at the Sith Academy should have begun — I was awakened by a console alert. A brief hyperspace exit, quick recalculation, and we jumped again. Nothing unusual. I managed to check the holonet and smirked at a headline.
Then something beeped again — this time from the prisoner's shock collar. Right, I'd read that Devaronians were nearly immune to toxins, so I hadn't expected to keep her unconscious for the whole trip. To kill the boredom, I went to the common room where I'd left her earlier.
The room was small, so my appearance was noticed immediately. The Jedi didn't look very presentable — understandably so. She wore a special collar that shocked her whenever she tried to use the Force. Not lethal, but very painful. Unfortunately, no one had taught me any other method of restraining Jedi, so I had to settle for this not‑very‑humane option. Well, I could see she had already regained consciousness, so instead of studying ship specifications, I'd entertain myself with a conversation. Maybe, purely out of scientific curiosity, I could try nudging her toward the dark side? And with that fresh holonet article… this could be interesting.
"You should thank the Republic for its quick reaction. When someone important is involved — not just some farmers on a forgotten world terrorized by pirates — they can act very fast."
"Windu and Fisto escaped. And you're left with someone you probably didn't even plan to capture," she replied surprisingly calmly.
"Plan to?" I chuckled briefly — through the helmet speakers it sounded rather sinister.
"The Republic sent a fleet to save the Master. And you… no one even looked for you," I tried to savor the line as much as possible, but it didn't come out quite right.
"You're running. That means they won," she said. It seemed she'd noticed we were in hyperspace. A faint vibration is a good clue if you're attentive enough.
"Won? They saved their heroes. And you — you're just a trophy for the Count. Even from defeat, one can gain something, if one uses their head," I said convincingly. How glad I was for this helmet hiding my real emotions.
"Dooku would prefer Windu's head over me," she smirked crookedly, adding sarcasm to her voice.
"You have no idea what living Jedi might be needed for. Honestly, neither do I — but that's for the best. Sometimes it's safer to know less and stay alive," I replied in kind, ending with a mocking snort — though the speaker didn't convey the tone properly.
"And you're satisfied with that? Being Dooku's errand boy?"
Oh, that was new. It seemed she was pressing on my Sith ambition. I needed to continue the intimidation angle.
"Satisfied? I'm alive. That's more than can be said for your Jedi friends," I said, trying to throw her off balance — and it seemed to work.
"Windu is alive! You wouldn't sound so sure if—"
At that moment I turned toward her, showing her the datapad with a headline from some outlet, a picture of Mace and Kit standing on a cruiser bridge, titled 'Heroic Rescue.'
"…if he hadn't forgotten to mention the third Jedi? To them, you're expendable. And to me… a chess pawn. But even a pawn can become a queen."
Hard to tell if I achieved anything.
"You want me to betray everything I live for… just to survive?" she smirked.
I only said, before stepping out toward the cockpit:
"I want you to think. When the Count comes for you… your faith in the Light won't keep you warm in his laboratories."
Then I closed the door.
It didn't look like it worked. But that's fine. I'll get better at this — she won't be the last captured Jedi. I'm only at the beginning of this path, and besides, this works best on the young and inexperienced. Not that I want an apprentice like the SWTOR protagonist — but another Force‑user on my side would help. Especially for my "red" friends.
A/N:
P.S. There are no chess in DDG. When the protagonist said "pawn" and "queen," you can interpret that as my author's "translation," so the analogy would be clearer for readers. In his actual speech, the MC used pieces from another game well‑known in DDG.