Nine years, five months, and thirty-three days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, five months, and thirty-three days after the Great Resynchronization.
I wonder if anyone needs a bed and furniture specially designed for Palpatine? I'd sell them cheap.
Because sleeping on that airy, utterly soft, pliable excuse for a bed is just... horrible.
I woke up with pain and aches all over my body, like I'd fallen asleep sitting up. I can't imagine how a normal person gets any rest on that. In any case, I won't be using Palpatine's apartments in Mount Tantiss anymore.
Too luxurious. Too... pampered, I guess. On board the Chimaera, I had something closer to "barracks hospitality," familiar from my past life and more... habitual.
One way or another, the incident in the complex's Throne Hall only confirmed a fact I'd practically considered a "taboo" from the start: cloning Force-sensitive beings never leads to anything good. I went ahead with creating the Luke Skywalker clone out of necessity — to test the theory that Mara Jade could only be freed from Palpatine's final command by killing a man with the face of Darth Vader's son. That trick worked in the events of the "Thrawn Trilogy" as I knew them, so I was obliged to test its effectiveness in my reality. I need Mara Jade free of the "cockroaches in her head." And that fact should bind her to me even more strongly, making her if not completely loyal, then at least not hostile and not neutral.
As the old saying goes — one my sergeant used to love repeating during my conscript service in the valiant Soviet Navy — "There's no worse enemy than an ally who's an idiot... with excessive initiative." Colonel Selid had surpassed himself in the latter regard, nearly ruining everything we'd built with such effort.
The Luke Skywalker clone wasn't supposed to be given any knowledge at all — in the events I knew, this clone, known as Luke, was created on the orders of Joruus C'baoth. And he didn't take a mental matrix from the real Skywalker either... As far as I remember...
But what worried me most was a different question.
The clone was only supposed to be created today. But from all appearances, either its creation was incomplete, or — even more dangerous — it had started being made before I gave the order. The question arises: how is that possible? And following it, two more eternal Russian questions, framed by the great classics: "Who is to blame?" and "What is to be done?" Oh, thank you for those, Alexander Ivanovich Herzen and Nikolai Gavrilovich Chernyshevsky. It's curious that those works appeared in exactly that order: first "Who is to Blame?" from Herzen's pen, and then "What is to Be Done?" by Chernyshevsky. And ever since, the Slavic brothers have tackled their problems in that exact sequence. First they find someone to blame, then they think about how to solve the problem.
According to my plans, Rukh was never supposed to cross paths with the Luke Skywalker clone. In the known events of the "Thrawn Trilogy," the beginning of the end for the cooperation between Thrawn and the Noghri clans happened precisely because one of that people met Leia Organa Solo. By smell, he identified her as Darth Vader's daughter — the one who had once been the Noghri's master... before Vader handed them over to Thrawn... to me.
And now Rukh hadn't just met a copy of the real Skywalker — he'd been in close contact with him. Was that time — a few seconds — enough to catch the scent of another sentient? Yes, absolutely. Did that mean I had a problem now? Yes, most likely.
I didn't believe in coincidences in my past life, and I won't believe in them now. I need to figure something out for this situation. And "figure it out" fast. And as efficiently as possible. Otherwise, there's every chance I'll experience all the delights of cold steel entering the back of my chair and piercing my organs. I'm sure that's not the most pleasant way to die.
But I can't just "remove" Rukh that easily either. Even if he simply disappeared — questions would arise. Not from everyone, but from some, definitely. This galaxy's history shows: the more grievances sentients have against individuals in this universe, the shorter the latter's life cycle. And I have a fast metabolism as it is.
All in all, my bodyguard is currently in the medical bay of Mount Tantiss. In a medically induced coma "ensuring accelerated recovery." And he'll stay there until I figure out what to do with him. Right now, I only have one solution: speed up the plan to find a planet for the Noghri and implement the plan to secure their loyalty once and for all. But the more this situation unfolds, the more I'm struck by the thought: I'll have to tell them the truth. If I keep using the Noghri clans in the dark, it won't end well. For me — definitely.
But flying to Honoghr and dumping everything I know on them — about Darth Vader's children, about the Empire's deception regarding the planet's ecological restoration (again, started by their master, Darth Vader) — is barely better than shooting myself in the foot right now.
Unconsidered actions lead to severe consequences. Sooner or later, the truth will come out. The question now is just how to present it, to minimize the unfavorable consequences for me and my undertaking.
I still didn't dare use the Throne Hall as a meeting place for my subordinates to receive progress reports on their activities. Too pretentious, maybe. Though I won't deny, the chair there really is magnificent. Ostensibly the same kind as in the throne hall on Tangrene and in hundreds of other places whose owners tried to copy Emperor Palpatine's style and manner. Still, after what happened there, it feels... uncomfortable, somehow. For the first time since arriving in this universe, I felt on my own skin what it's like when death isn't breathing down your neck, but staring you right in the face. And I would have experienced an electrical injury from lightning — the Sith's favorite weapon — if not for Mara Jade throwing a cage with ysalamiri and a blaster at just the right moment. An unpleasant sensation. I wasn't even that scared on the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer, that place jutting from the armored, thick-skinned hull of a ship — a place that can turn to dust if one individual in a fighter or bomber breaks through the anti-aircraft screen or gets lucky with a proton torpedo or concussion missile.
And I clearly understand that I can't tell anyone about this fear — simple human fear. Can't tell, can't share, can't drink it away... Simply because I can't — it would shatter the aura of invincibility around the Grand Admiral. The aura I inherited and must maintain to survive. No, it's not cowardice from a man who, in his past life, sat at headquarters working with information on various media while his comrades-in-arms carried out combat missions with weapons in hand.
It's just a belated realization of such a simple fact: even after arriving in this universe, in this body, I am by no means immortal. And if I show weakness now, it all collapses like a house of cards. And I'm too old (not physically, mentally) to start everything from scratch again.
So I have to step over myself and my own anxiety, sit in Palpatine's chair with an indifferent face, and watch as Captain Pellaeon is the first of all those summoned for a report to enter the Throne Hall.
The commander of the Chimaera, my permanent flagship, looked vigorous, without either pretense or false modesty.
It seemed he had good news.
"Grand Admiral," the Chimaera's commander saluted. "The attack on the rebel battle group has been successfully completed. The commanders of the Relentless and the Stormhawk destroyed one Republican Mark-I assault frigate, captured the 'Black Asp' Immobilizer 418-class interdictor cruiser, another assault frigate of the same type, and an MC80 Mon Calamari star cruiser. The ships and nearly four thousand prisoners, including crew and ejected pilots recovered after their escape, have been delivered to the Dark Warrior base. No losses in ships or cargo; losses in personnel and small craft are negligible. Repairs on the heavy cruisers continue, and they will soon be moved to Tangrene, Rendili, Brentaal IV..."
Well, that really is good news.
"Inform the escort force commanders that the ships will not be sent to Rendili," I said. Gilad nodded silently, but his expression made it clear: the change in plans worried him.
Just as it worried me that the New Republic had spread its trap nets across all the major hyperlanes under their control, trying to catch my fleet.
"Move the fleet to Brentaal IV?" the Chimaera's commander ventured, trying to guess my train of thought.
"No," I countered, fully aware that the motivation for my decisions was quite different from what I'd tell Gilad. "All ships proceed to Tangrene via circuitous regional routes. Thanks to the impatience of the government on Coruscant and the desire of one particular Bothan to know every move of Generals Solo and Calrissian — now reinstated — we know exactly where the ambushes are placed. Our ships will break through them and arrive at base. Repairs and upgrades will be carried out on Tangrene. Once they're all safe, we'll contact the shipyards at Ord Trasi and Bilbringi — perhaps they can help there. Neither Rendili with its immature loyalty politics, nor, unfortunately, Brentaal IV, surrounded by New Republic territories and fleets and lacking proper orbital defenses, suit us. Very soon, the New Republic will learn who's behind the attacks on them and will retaliate. With all our forces concentrated in one fist, we have a better chance of fighting back than scattering them across the galaxy."
"Understood, sir," Pellaeon said.
"Did the drills on the Chimaera go according to plan?" I asked. Regulations are written in blood. And a good soldier can only be forged through long, painstaking mastery of his martial skills. The same applies to starship crews. After the battle with Captain Jonqui's Freedom, I understood that better than ever. So I ordered an increase in training for all personnel. On every ship under my command. Even those on guard duty, patrols, or station-keeping — they all had to continuously improve their skills, both practical and theoretical.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon confirmed. "The results, of course, don't qualify for individual fleet superiority among Star Destroyer crews, but there's progress. After a series of victories under your command, even the beardless youngsters aren't complaining too much about ten battle stations a day."
"There's no limit to perfection, Captain," I observed. "How is the loading going?"
"Art objects and valuables are being loaded aboard the Chimaera," Gilad reported. "At the moment, we're loading solar ionization reactor components into the Star Destroyer's technical holds. Sir, I'd like to discuss with you the transfer of some of the vehicles currently in the Mount Tantiss facility to the Chimaera for relocation to Tangrene."
"You're talking about the Sentinel-class landing shuttles and the T4a Lambda-class shuttles?" I clarified. There were plenty of those — almost the quintessential representatives of the Imperial war machine and transport — in the mountain. Up to a hundred of each type, including the Emperor's own shuttle (and I'm sure this one is just one of many identical models), which had better protection and improved communications, weapons, encryption systems, and modified engines. A good machine for a head of state. No wonder I ordered it checked and prepared for my own use. Yes, transport vehicles... When they discovered the hangar's parking area, the joy was boundless — these are the kind of ships the fleet needs. Because we have no incoming vessels of this type, and none were anticipated. But we did have losses. And if there's a chance to reduce them, if not eliminate them entirely through expropriation, then why not? It's all extra savings for a budget that, unfortunately, has a huge expenditure side and a low, and not particularly regular, revenue side.
When I learned these ships were here, I thought I'd found the answer to how Palpatine's agents could have flown in and out of here, but... every single starship assigned to Mount Tantiss was still here. Even the serial numbers matched. So, a dead end. I'll have to keep investigating.
"Exactly, sir," Pellaeon said. "The Chimaera can take a certain number even after the holds are fully loaded. In fact, a significant portion of the ships can be flown there under their own power, prepared for launch with our pilots at the controls."
"No objections, Captain," I said. "We really do need the equipment. Contact the Nemesis — when they head our way, have them overload with two squadrons of TIE fighters in disassembled state from those Baron D'Asta supplied as 'spare parts.' Even if we only have four squadrons of those, it's something. This facility must continue to be defended until its evacuation. And a single Victory-I in orbit with its air wing of twenty-four fighters is not the greatest cover. As long as Wayland remains unknown to both the Empire and the Republic, everything is fine. Everything is just fine. But we can't relax either. Loss of vigilance is the guarantee of defeat. "Pilots for them will be... produced from among the clones. Also, contact General Covell. His training of the volunteer reinforcements for our regular army is concluding. I'm appointing him commandant of the Mount Tantiss facility."
Here I need an iron hand, a cold mind, and unquestioning obedience. General Covell possessed those qualities. Also, I need his genetic template and a personality matrix from him for creating infantry commanders. Not for the Stormtrooper Corps under my command, but for the regular army we also have. And there aren't that many suitable commanders for it. Given the lack of enthusiasm for cooperation from the Imperial Remnants, I have to use what I've got. If I had more money, time, and resources, I'd probably build factories to produce Separatist droids. But here's the problem: according to data on the first fifteen years of the Galactic Empire's existence, the war machine under Darth Vader and a countless number of admirals, generals, and Moffs swept through the territories of the former Separatists and their sympathizers with fire and sword. Palpatine understood perfectly how many problems a new droid army could create, so his armed forces razed everything they found and could reach. And that's a large part of the galaxy. Parallel to this process, the HoloNet was purged of data on the creation of battle droids, assembly line equipment for their production, and so on. The Emperor and Vader did everything to ensure that no one, not even the boldest and most daring fool, could get their "hands" on the legacy of the Clone Wars, reprogram the droids, and turn them against the authority on Coruscant.
So, preserving the assembly line on Hypori is just an exception that proves the rule. Especially in the part where, according to Imperial reports from the local Moff, this factory — which first Tyber Zann and now I have noticed — had been "destroyed." But it seems someone paid very well to make it look exactly like that. Which gives a small chance that other reports also contain errors or outright lies, and there might still be a few more such factories to be found in the galaxy.
It's not that I vitally need B-1 battle droids as "cannon fodder" on the battlefield. After all, at this time, my campaign is predominantly characterized by space battles, with the emphasis on replenishing the fleet and its crew. The time for ground operations will come — but later. And by then, the army will be ready. And whether it will consist of droids or clone stormtroopers — only time will tell. Right now, with Spaarti cloning cylinders at my disposal, I have no need to spend billions building a droid production line, programming them, arming them, acquiring or capturing resources for droid and component production. All of that, but geared toward clone production, I already have. Immediately, for free, and for everyone.
Besides, I shouldn't forget the psychological factor. This galaxy has already been through a war with a droid army, and now war machines are seen by the population exclusively as occupiers and invaders. Stormtroopers and clones, on the other hand, are occasionally seen as something closer to the populations of the worlds — animate. "One of our own, familiar."
One way or another, the droid issue should be dealt with only after I have suitable production technology in my hands. Right now, it's far more profitable not to spread resources thin on buying metals and electronics for droids, but to continue clone production, compensating for the shortage of crews and technical personnel.
Yes, on one hand the number of volunteers arriving at Tangrene is growing — but slowly. Moff Ferrus reports tens of thousands of Imperial and other citizens expressing a desire to contribute to the war effort against the New Republic in one way or another. After being sifted through Lieutenant Colonel Astarion's ISB fine-tooth comb, those who can be allowed to work directly with equipment or weapons... are somewhat fewer. But even their loyalty must be verified — which is precisely why they are being reassigned to the "Wolf Packs." I have no desire to let anyone onto the decks of Star Destroyers or other fleet ships whom I am not certain of. Yes, the ISB cannot solve all problems at once, simply because they are incredibly few in number. However, talking about a shortage of personnel when you have only sixteen thousand functional cloning cylinders, producing thirty-two thousand clones twice a month — that's not a problem. That's just a matter of time.
"Sir," Pellaeon interrupted my train of thought. "Forgive me for what is likely meddling in matters not my own, but... haven't you considered that refusing deals with Rendili and Brentaal IV will lead to those planets falling under New Republic control?"
"I'm certain of it," I said. As regrettable as it is to state, it is a fact. For those two planets, contracts to work on the "Katana Fleet" are a way to earn a considerable number of credits doing specialized work. "But planets behind enemy lines are practically guaranteed dissidents. Sooner or later they will betray us, refuse to obey. If that happens while our ships are under repair there, the blow would be irreparable. In the end, they would betray the Empire, not us. Just as with Carida, which refused to aid us, these planets have chosen their path. All they care about is constant cash infusions, and enormous ones at that. We do not possess such resources. Therefore, we will make do with what we have. At the 'Rendili StarDrive' shipyards, Moff Ferrus and Chief Engineer Reyes have ordered all necessary spare parts, excluding hyperdrive engines for the ships. The equipment is en route and will arrive at the outpost in the Pakuuni system shortly. From there, Moff Ferrus, under escort from his ships, will deliver the parts to the Tangrene warehouses."
"Yes, sir, I wanted to ask about that as well. Why continue using the outpost in the Pakuuni system? Our base is on Tangrene and Linuri."
"It's simple, Captain — we draw fire away from the real bases. Even if my return and the location of the operational base are no secret to many Imperial commanders, most of the galaxy has never seen the one who is inflicting defeats on the New Republic. According to Colonel Astarion's reports, none of the volunteers, except for the spies sent among us, know who commands the fleet on Tangrene or the true capabilities of our forces. The longer we can maintain that veil of secrecy, the more panic we can sow within the New Republic. Once they catch wind of the deals in the Pakuuni system, they will risk sending a fleet to destroy the outpost, or at best — set a trap for our ships."
"And then what?" Pellaeon inquired.
"As always," I shrugged. "The prey and the hunter will swap places. And it will be interesting again."
* * *
Striding with impeccable bearing, Major Grodin Tierce entered the Throne Hall. His steps crisp, he covered part of the distance separating us, then stopped, awaiting my attention.
Lieutenant Colonel Astarion, the head of counterintelligence — which out of habit we both still called the ISB — had just left me. He had provided information on his front, then, together with his subordinates, headed to the cloning laboratories — it was time to increase the number of operatives at our disposal. Even if by such an unconventional method.
"Report, Major," I ordered, placing the datapad with the 'security chief's' report beside me.
"I have investigated some of the core data on the 'Ge Node' program," he announced, simultaneously reminding me of the task he had been assigned. As if I could have forgotten.
"Flourishes are entirely unnecessary," I said. "I need information."
"As you suspected, it is a technology capable of modulating the personal matrix data obtained from donors under the 'Spaarti' cloning program," the adjutant stated. "Developed during the last year of the Clone Wars and used for the subsequent seven years, up until the Kamino Uprising."
That particular episode in Imperial history, when the Kaminoan cloners suddenly pulled out a portion of Jango Fett's clones they had stashed away, deciding they could stand up to Palpatine, suspecting he would nationalize the entire clone production niche. It was quite sensible of him to do that. Leaving those with the experience of creating a massive army unchecked was, at the very least, unwise.
"What is its essence?" Even if Colonel Selid had given a brief account, it was better to have the full picture.
"It is a development of the 'Spaarti' program," meaning the technology for creating 'Spaarti clones' was not an exclusive mechanic, but merely a generalized name for a series of similar programs. "In the latter case, full donor personalities are transferred into the bodies of the clones. However, defects were identified, including a critical flaw known as 'clonic madness' premature units went insane, diagnosed with schizophrenia," interrupting the account with a 'I know that, give me something new' would be simply unwise. Firstly, 'repetition is the mother of learning,' and secondly, the adjutant had meticulously studied everything related to cloning technologies at the 'Mount Tantiss' facility. He might know far more than I did. And information is half the battle. "A number of scientists theorized that this occurs because clones of the same person, with the same personal matrix, enter a kind of resonance due to the accelerated growth of the organism and brain formation. According to Arkanian cloning specialists, creating a clone resistant to madness requires a minimum of three to five years. One year is too short for proper maturation. However, I ordered the technicians to take samples from the clones we have from the first and second batches, conduct a comparative analysis with the originals and data from Imperial Intelligence archives on cloning programs. Presumably, those creatures, the ysalamiri, with their Force-neutralizing effect, somehow mitigate the adverse consequences. Thus, a selective analysis showed that the 'Spaarti clones' produced using your technology are indistinguishable from the originals. There are no mental disorders, higher nervous activity issues, or other symptoms present in the 'Spaarti clones' of the past. Congratulations, Grand Admiral, you have solved a problem that consumed trillions of Imperial credits in research."
Is that so? I could use those trillions.
"The Imperial cloners did not know the secret of the ysalamiri, so they proceeded from the theory of resonance between multiple copies of a single sapient," Grodin Tierce continued. "As an experiment, the 'Ge Node' program was created. Using Spaarti technology imprint machines, the consciousnesses obtained from donors were fragmented, retaining only useful skills. Then the personality matrix was altered. Fictional data about the subject was inserted, allowing thousands of other consciousness imprints to be created from a single matrix, each distinct from the others. The program proved successful — the cloned sapients, while externally copies of each other, came to without mental issues and considered themselves and the others with their faces simply different people. The project was deemed successful and was used until the well-known events on Kamino. After that, Palpatine ordered an end to all cloning programs without exception and began recruiting stormtroopers from regular people who underwent appropriate training."
"Was Joruus C'baoth created using this program?" I inquired.
"As far as I have studied the original matrix, it was obtained solely from the memories of others related to the real C'baoth," the Major replied. There's no need to argue — it's obvious who served as the donor. Emperor Palpatine likely added something of his own. "The clone of Luke Skywalker was created using the same matrix. According to the logs of his cloning chamber, the genetic sample was placed in autoclaves after receiving your order to do so."
"Which doesn't change the fact that he was created a full day earlier than intended," I stated.
"That happened because the matrix obtained from the 'Ge Node' program was introduced into him," the Major explained. "For some reason, this helped reduce the production time of 'Spaarti clones' from twenty-four to twenty-two days."
"So, now we can create them in thirteen days instead of fifteen, just over two and a half standard weeks," I noted. That's generally a good thing. "Does this program have any other advantages over 'Spaarti'? Besides the already known information about reduced production time and creating different personalities."
"The latter is actually its main advantage," Major Tierce said. "With a consciousness created through editing, we can avoid the unnecessary questions that clones would inevitably ask each other. We can take stormtroopers and use their bodies to create fleet specialists whom we won't have to keep hidden under helmets so they won't recognize each other."
"Can we alter the donors' DNA, making them stronger, faster than their originals?" I clarified. "The Kaminoans could."
"Possibly, sir," the Major didn't deny the obvious fact. "But here, at the 'Mount Tantiss' facility, we don't have genetic scientists — just ordinary medics from ship crews. They know how to operate cloning cylinders, maintain them, obtain matrices, and embed them into bodies developing in incubators. But to manipulate DNA..."
"They managed to create the consciousness of TNX-0297," I noted.
"Through trial and error, sir," Grodin said. "It's no accident he carries that number. Out of three hundred individuals, he's the first one who turned out relatively 'normal.' But even he has a lot of extraneous information mixed in. However, neutralizing him isn't a problem — he's in the brig and certainly isn't going anywhere."
"Don't touch the clone," I ordered. "We'll observe. Am I correct in understanding that our base's medical staff has learned, through experience, to create consciousnesses for clones?"
"Virtually, sir," Grodin said. "They partially altered Colonel Selid's matrix, but for it to be a full-fledged stormtrooper who doesn't remember his past, as I understand it, cleaning the original matrix of unnecessary memories requires more time and work on depersonalizing the matrix before generating a new personality. With stormtroopers, it's simple — they don't need names and biographies. Just letters and a serial number. But the key point of this program, besides creating an artificial personality, I also find is that along with creating a new personality, we can also implant absolute loyalty and obedience to orders into the new consciousness. Whoever this clone is, carrying out the commands of his commander, you, will be his priority task. I spoke with this clone, TNX-0297. He's a perfectly sane person, within the limits of his development, of course. Obedient, competent. He will unhesitatingly sacrifice himself if that's the only chance to save his commander or complete the combat mission assigned to him. No caveats, no allowances, no doubts, no sabotage. An ideal executor who considers it his duty to serve the commander. Yet despite all this, he considers himself a full-fledged person. And asks no questions. Given the circumstances — the critical personnel shortage, as well as the hypothetical upcoming confrontation with Imperial commanders — in my opinion, this is an ideal way to solve the manpower problem."
"Suppose," I said. An interesting dilemma. Commanding an army that obeys you for ideological reasons, or because it is programmed and doesn't know it? And what would happen if the clones were told about this 'little trick'? Or if they were programmed to obey someone else? No, blindly trusting a program that nearly killed me because of the initiative of one bas — pardon my sinful soul, a colonel?! No, this is all well and good, but a thorough understanding of what's happening is required. If it were all so simple, it would certainly be used everywhere. "For now, it's a decent option for the course of events, Major, you're right. However, we will only begin its implementation when we have confirmation of the program's effectiveness, not based on the example of one clone out of three hundred random attempts, but as a result of targeted research on the program by competent specialists. The temptation is great, I won't argue. And the advantages are more than worthwhile. But for some reason, the program wasn't implemented — and that's considering the possibility of absolute loyalty. So there must be a flaw somewhere that we don't know about. One just as dangerous as the one with the Kaminoan clones — a single order, and they would turn against us. That is unacceptable. After studying all the risks, with a careful approach to this 'Ge Node' program, can we create new sapients with 'old' bodies? Thousands of people with the same face, but different personalities?"
"Yes, sir," Tierce confirmed again, not falling for the test question. "Both ordinary sapients, not just humans, and those sensitive to the Force."
"My decision on the latter will never change," I said sharply. "No experiments with Force-sensitive DNA. That's an order."
"Understood, sir," Grodin replied. "Should I order the destruction of Joruus C'baoth's matrix?"
An intriguing proposal. Do I need a copy of the 'patchwork personality' of a despotic Jedi, whose insane clone is involved in my plans to undermine the New Republic's reputation?
On one hand — it should be disposed of as quickly as possible. If it were the matrix of the real C'baoth, that would be one thing. But a madman created solely because Palpatine 'remembered' him and decided to get a pocket pet to guard his beloved antique warehouse... That's different. That's a dangerous and extremely unpredictable action that could have far-reaching consequences. Who can guarantee that using the Force won't overpower the existing program in the sapient's head? What if this incomprehensible magic of the Star Wars universe can break all programs, and then we'd have another 'Grandpa Joruus' intent on building his own empire? And perfectly skilled at subjugating the minds of sapients, weaving them into a single 'organism' rivalling hardened professionals in efficiency? I've pulled off that 'trick' twice with a fleet consisting of seventy percent raw recruits and yesterday's cadets who had never seen combat. But what would happen if the crews of ships, possessing professional skills and battle-hardened, came under the control of such a 'Jedi'?
On the other hand — remove the personal memories from it, create a fake personality, and that's it, make yourself pocket Jedi. And each of them could 'shoot' lightning and even use Battle Meditation... And if we could also program in 'loyalty,' that would be something completely unreal.
And then a third option emerges from the shadows...
Remove everything 'unnecessary' from the insane matrix, placing the existing knowledge of the Force into the body of a non-Force-sensitive sapient, who would serve only as a living teacher for all those Jedi and Jensaarai who would side with me? Interesting. It seems to be the least problematic of the proposed options. But it can only exist because the program has no issues. And that can only be tested one way.
"Arrange for stormtrooper TNX-0297 to be transferred to your command, Major," I said. "Do not use him as a donor of material or consciousness until further orders. Establish covert surveillance on him. Anything that deviates from standard stormtrooper behavior must be reported to me immediately. Remove C'baoth's matrix from the laboratories, place it on a separate data chip, and bring it to me. The same goes for the 'Ge Node' technology. Without my direct order and participation, this matrix and program are never to be used. No research on cloning programs is to be conducted at the facility without my permission. All technologies related to this process not connected to the 'Spaarti' program are to be confiscated immediately and transferred to the Chimera. This also applies to Kaminoan technology."
"It will be done, Grand Admiral," Tierce said without a shadow of a smile. But he's generally not a joker. Still, he needs watching too.
"Have you already participated in the extraction of genetic material and the creation of a personal matrix, Major?" I inquired.
"Immediately after this report, I will head to the laboratories, give orders regarding the consolidation of data and equipment, and oversee the work," the Adjutant reported on his future plans. "My soldiers are currently undergoing the procedure, following Mr. Reyes's engineers and Lieutenant Colonel Astarion's operatives."
Well, fine then...
Wait. Three hundred attempts of the 'Ge Node' program. TNX-0297 is only the two hundred ninety-seventh out of three hundred. What about the other two hundred ninety-nine clones?
That was precisely the question I asked Tierce.
"Destroyed, sir," he said, which made his right cheek twitch nervously. "Lieutenant Colonel Astarion is currently examining the remains in the labyrinth — Colonel Selid used the failed clones to test deadly traps on the lower levels."
"Is that so," I said. If even an Imperial Guardsman cannot suppress his negative reaction, how did the Colonel manage to keep the ordinary stormtroopers from turning on him? "Inform the Lieutenant Colonel that he is to conduct an inquiry regarding the garrison and service personnel of the facility to determine why they failed to react to Colonel Selid's actions. Mount Tantiss is too important to us to allow anyone who might betray us to remain here."
"It will be done, sir," Tierce said with a stone face, but gratitude was visible in his eyes. Almost three hundred clones. Experiments on humans, even if copies of real people, but still! That's half a battalion, the crew of a small starship... And that's just three hundred clones from some single batch!
Lost in thought, I didn't even immediately notice that Chief Engineer Reyes was standing next to the Major. When had he managed to enter the Throne Hall?
"Sir, I wanted to say..."
Then why didn't anyone notice the 'shortfall'? This is, after all, a military force, not a Wild West tavern! There's strict accountability, troop movements, logistics, for crying out loud! We don't have so many ships that they can come half-empty!
"Major," I addressed the adjutant, who had just tensely listened to something from the Engineer. "It is necessary to find out how Colonel Selid managed to bypass official documents and deliver to us at least three hundred clones fewer than the required number."
"Grand Admiral, sir," Grodin sighed. "That's actually the news I was going to tell you. Regarding the personnel, their lack of reaction, and the clones. Colonel Selid told the staff that it was your order — to conduct the cloning experiments. He also ordered the clone of Luke Skywalker to be removed from the cloning cylinder a full day before final maturation — this was established by autopsy and confirmed by the lab assistants' testimonies. And lastly... regarding the number of clones. I rechecked the shipments. Exactly sixteen thousand clones from the first batch arrived on Tangrene, and... the same number from the second."
That can't be. How? Is there another cloning laboratory here?!
"He made up the shortfall of clones by sending us some stormtroopers from the base garrison?" I suggested the most obvious version of events.
"Negative, sir," the Chief Engineer said. "Those cloning cylinders that weren't functioning... A little over three weeks ago, they were repaired. All of them. Colonel Selid didn't create three hundred clones. He created four thousand clones under the 'Ge Node' program. But he only removed three hundred from the incubators — an equal number each week. Tested them, and after deeming the results unsatisfactory, sent them into the labyrinth. It was through those sacrifices that he managed to research this area so quickly."
"So, we have three thousand seven hundred and one problems with Colonel Selid's face," I summarized, feeling the anger building inside me.
"No, sir," the Chief Engineer's eye implant flashed. "They all have different faces. But with one imprint program — stormtroopers implanted with Colonel Selid's knowledge. And all of them are already fully matured."
And I thought yesterday was a tough day.
"Extract them," I said wearily. "We'll deal with what we have. Maybe it's not all bad."
Though, who am I kidding?
* * *
"You will certainly not be surprised by what I am about to say," Mara Jade said, rising to her feet. The girl favored her right knee each time it came time for an audience. It's amusing that I never required such a thing. And yet, the girl continued this strange ritual, beaten into her subconscious by her former master. Something is happening with her, because today, despite her trying to look energetic, something is off. Forced smiles, perfunctory barbs... Asking is useless — she's not the type of woman to fall on your chest and cry into your vest.
Maybe she's just tired?
"Most of the items missing from Palpatine's personal stores were not taken by Colonel Selid," I said, studying the data on the datapad. Lieutenant Colonel Astarion and his subordinates had been conducting a parallel investigation. Considering there were simply more of them compared to a lone red-haired vixen, it was no wonder they finished the investigation first. They even found some of the stolen items. In the Colonel's quarters. Small trinkets and precious stones.
"I think so," the girl said. I looked up from the document I was reading.
"That wasn't a question or a suggestion, Mara Jade."
"I understand, my master," her voice trembled slightly. "Forgive my mistake."
"You don't have to call me that," I said. Frankly, all this 'lord,' 'master,' 'overlord' and other pretentious titles make me sick. This is the enlightened space age, not the Middle Ages. "I have a rank, I have a position. I have no insane ambitions. Remember that."
"Remembered, Grand Admiral," the girl said with a steady voice.
"There are no catalogs for what's in the Upper Vaults," I said. "Can you tell me what was there?"
"Trophies," the red-haired Hand said. "Jedi and Sith relics. Holocrons. Lightsabers, focusing crystals. Training droids. Artifacts. Ancient scrolls and manuscripts. In short, everything Palpatine had or acquired after the destruction of the Jedi and the Great Jedi Purge. Almost all of it is gone."
"I doubt that's exactly it," I declared. "Given the destruction and alteration of data in the base's computer and cloning laboratories, the most obvious fact is that Palpatine's servants arrived here after his body died over the forest moon of Endor. They cleaned the base so that no one who reached this planet would have accurate knowledge of the Galactic Empire's war machine. They took the cloning information to use it for recreating the Emperor's body. And they took his personal collection of valuables related to his religious doctrine. It's likely the Reborn Emperor needed new Force-sensitive servants, and they had to be trained from somewhere, gaining knowledge. They only left behind what had no great value."
"I wouldn't say that," she said. With the lifting of the mental pressure from Palpatine's final command, the need for Mara Jade as my adjutant was gone. She no longer had to stay near the ysalamiri, and I no longer needed to justify her presence. So her naval uniform had been replaced with a traditional black combat suit, reinforced with light armor elements. And at that moment, the red-haired agent detached a cylindrical object from her belt. "This is the lightsaber that the insane clone had. I managed to cut off the emitter, and the weapon became useless — that's why he stopped using it during the fight. I examined the construction — it's very ancient technology; many parts are long out of production, and others are only used in archaic collector droids. This suggests that this lightsaber was made at least decades, maybe centuries ago. The construction, though ancient, is sturdy. One could arm followers with such a weapon instead of leaving it on a shelf."
"We don't know why not all objects were removed from the Mountain," I reminded. "The only one who can enlighten us on this is Master C'baoth. But he, to put it mildly, is not the best conversationalist."
"To put it mildly," she said. The girl couldn't hide her disgust at the mention of the dark Jedi. Well, one could understand her. That madman was disliked by everyone except himself. But at the moment I needed him — until I could secure the support of the Jensaarai, whose leader was currently a guest at Moff Ferrus's residence on Tangrene, awaiting my return.
"What can you tell me about this lightsaber?" I picked up a small cylindrical hilt, devoid of any buttons or controls typical of Jedi weapons. The girl approached, took the hilt in her hands. She examined it, frowning.
"Something... strange," she said after a couple of seconds. "I sense a focusing crystal inside, steeped in the Force, the Light Side of it. It's dim, but still there. But... there's no activation button, and the entire casing is made of a metal called electrum. How do you activate it? A manufacturing defect?" She looked at me expectantly.
"Have you ever heard of a Jedi Master named Mace Windu?" I asked. The girl briefly furrowed her brow in thought.
"One of the four Jedi Masters who organized the assassination attempt on then-Supreme Chancellor Palpatine shortly before the end of the Clone Wars," she said.
"If you believe in the point of view that Palpatine himself held, then yes," I clarified. "According to my data, the Jedi tried to arrest the chancellor because of his affiliation with the Sith Order — the ancient religious and philosophical enemies of the Jedi. The Jedi Order made its move — sent four Masters to arrest the Supreme Chancellor. And they lost. Mace Windu initiated the arrest attempt. He fully intended to destroy Palpatine, believing that arrest wouldn't serve the goals of justice due to Palpatine's numerous supporters across all power structures and hierarchies. In the end, they decided to kill the Supreme Chancellor. The assassination attempt was thwarted by the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. Soon after, the galaxy came to know him by another name — Darth Vader."
Mara Jade remained silent, processing the information that had landed on her red head. I waited patiently, building one defense line after another that I would need in case of additional questions she undoubtedly would ask. She couldn't not ask, since she had no other source of information — only my words. And this was an extremely sharp moment of testing — would she take me at my word, or would she continue to view me with suspicion?
"Take this lightsaber," I said. "It once belonged to the aforementioned Mace Windu. His fate is unknown, but there is no doubt that the Jedi will no longer need it. Lieutenant Colonel Astarion found this weapon among a collection of gemstones in the room of the late Colonel Selid. Apparently, the latter was seduced by the weapon's rarity and planned to sell it for a large sum."
"But how do you activate it?" Mara Jade said in bewilderment, curiously studying the weapon's hilt.
"You tell me," I suggested. "This falls within the scope of your expertise."
Frowning, the girl took a couple of steps back. For several minutes she studied the weapon, examined it, paused with her eyes closed. The only thing she didn't do, probably, was to test it with her teeth.
I was about to open my mouth to demand the trinket back when a dim purple beam of light about a meter long appeared in Mara Jade's hands.
"Closing the contacts using the Force..." the girl whispered. "So... simple, yet ingenious."
"As far as I remember, you had a lightsaber of the same color," I said. Mara Jade looked at me with curiosity and a hint of anticipation. "Take it, it's yours."
"Really?" the girl was surprised.
"I'm not in the habit of joking," I had to remind her. "You are my ally. The only one I can trust with such artifacts of the past. Keep it if it will be useful to you. During your sparring with the Skywalker clone, I noticed that the hilt of the lightsaber I gave you earlier was too wide for your hand. This one is narrower and should fit."
"Thank you, my... — Jade caught herself. — Grand Admiral."
A Freudian slip? I wanted to smile and joke about it. But... the circumstances weren't right.
Funny, but I hadn't heard about the fate of this weapon in the known events of Star Wars after the crippled Jedi was thrown by Palpatine's lightning from the window of his office just before the execution of Contingency Order 66. It had an interesting history. Based on fragmentary data extracted from the ISB and Imperial Intelligence databases still available to me, Mace Windu's lightsaber, about a year after the proclamation of the New Order, was part of the personal collection of one of Palpatine's close associates and was even displayed in that dignitary's office. Later, the bureaucrat was transferred to another post, effectively demoted both in the Empire's hierarchy and in the eyes of the Emperor's entourage. Apparently, the weapon was also confiscated from him and became part of Palpatine's own collection.
Why was it here and not taken, for example, to Byss? Hard to say. Maybe so it wouldn't offend the Reborn Emperor's eyes? Or was it simply forgotten here?
"Can I modify something in it?" Mara Jade asked quietly.
"It's your property now," I reminded. "Its further fate is beyond my control and depends on you. So, you haven't managed to find anything related to the Force?" I clarified.
If so, I would have to seek knowledge for the Jensaarai elsewhere to win them over. Where? Not clear yet, but the most obvious location was Darth Vader's fortress. Surely there must be something suitable there. Probably. If Palpatine's looters hadn't ransacked it too.
The girl, having already attached a third lightsaber to her belt, looked at me with a sly glint.
"I didn't say that," she said slyly. "There was a hidden compartment in the wall of one of the vaults. Quite extravagantly made — with biometric locks tuned to Palpatine himself. If you didn't know it was there, you'd never find it."
"Is that so?" I was surprised. A secret within a secret? Though, why be surprised — this was a Sith's lair. On the contrary, one should be concerned if nothing like this was found. "And how did you know about its location?"
"I was his trusted confidant," the red-haired beauty shrugged. "Some of his tricks are known to me. Those who came here before us — most likely — did not. I found the 'Book of the Sith' in the hidden compartment."
What in the nine hells?! Everything inside me clenched. I don't know how I managed to keep my composure, but most likely, to be honest, I simply froze, stunned by what I heard.
The "Book of the Sith" was the work of Darth Sidious, in which he accumulated a considerable amount of historical Sith data that he had obtained during his rise as Darth Vader's teacher or taken from the Jedi Archives after the destruction of the Order on Coruscant. It was a manual on universal evil, containing the darkest, most disgusting, filthiest, and most monstrous Sith secrets of the last thousands of years. And she was smiling nervously at that?! At that?! Because she had already absorbed those Sith secrets and the Dark Side had turned her head?
Hutt! I had just given her another lightsaber myself. What would it take for her to kill me here and declare herself Empress? How many times had that happened in the history of this universe?!
Hutt! How stupid... Why hadn't they found the book earlier?!
As far as I remember, this book was distributed by the holders of the Star Wars franchise, but I was no longer at the age to chase my teenage hobbies. So I didn't know the details of its contents, limited only to brief indirect mentions found somewhere in the literature of the universe.
But... how did this book end up here, on Wayland?! Could Palpatine's servants have forgotten something like this?! No, I don't believe it. I will never believe it! This is practically a manual for any Force-sensitive being on how to become the sole ruler of the galaxy!
If it had been stored here, it should have been evacuated first! Such evidence of his criminal nature—it's practically a confession, a voluntary surrender! If Wayland really isn't Palpatine's main stash, then... WHY IS THIS HERE?!
"You have no idea how vile and despicable this man was, Grand Admiral," the girl's voice suddenly rang with fury, and her face twisted in a grimace of pain. "I served him for years! Believed everything he said! How he fought for the galaxy's well-being, how he had to take power into his own hands to save the Republic from disintegration during the Separatist Crisis?! Oh, how many lectures I heard about the Jedi's betrayal..."
With a lightning-fast motion that I couldn't have avoided even if I wanted to, the girl reached behind her back and tore off a small backpack I hadn't seen on her before. Throwing it on the floor, she opened it and revealed... a book.
It was indeed a book! A rather thick tome, with a hard red cover covered in symbols and geometric patterns. Thin flimsi pages rustled with a familiar sound as the girl flipped through them until she reached a certain marked page. Now I had no doubt — she had been studying this work.
But... I'm still alive... Does that mean she doesn't intend to kill me?!
"'Absolute Power,'" she snorted. "The entire 'Book of the Sith' reeks of the Dark Side — you can't miss it. But this, the sixth part... When I first entered the vault, I thought he was standing behind this very wall, where the passage to the hidden compartment was sealed. Then I realized it wasn't the radiation of a living being... I made my way in and found... his 'creation.' He couldn't resist and included his own thoughts and reflections on how he climbed the steps of power. How he manipulated senators, bankers, scientists, Jedi, military leaders, Separatists, and the CIS leader, Count Dooku. He orchestrated the Clone Wars to destroy the Jedi and seize power! He described how he manipulated them to win Skywalker to his side. How he subtly used an edited audio recording of the failed arrest attempt to make it look like an assassination attempt on his life and slander the Jedi... He worked toward this for most of his life, and the rest, as if suddenly deprived of brains, blindly obeyed, doing what he wanted. But the worst was something else." The girl sniffled, handing me the Sith work.
Slowly taking it at the indicated page, I saw the heading.
"'Mara Jade.' Written by hand in a sweeping, confident, and definitely male handwriting. Neat letters of High Galactic, painfully reminiscent of Terran English, practically calligraphic. For some reason, I remembered that this language was no longer popular in the galaxy and was only used in official names of large companies and in high aristocratic circles, which was virtually synonymous with snobbery, ambition, and arrogance. Symbolic..."
"He wrote everything here," she said bitterly. "How he found me, how he trained me, how he conditioned me, what my successes and failures were. Oh, he even gave me a character assessment. 'A mindless puppet, whose purpose is to hear my voice and carry my will to the Empire. My personal courier, with an inflated sense of self-importance about her place in the Empire and next to me. Useful as long as her faith continues to be reinforced by legends. Weak and inadequate as an acolyte or Sith. Her lot is to deliver and voice orders, to carry out my will. And to believe that she is the only Hand I have.'"
"But the worst is something else," the girl said. "He truly sought immortality. And I'm sure he found it in case of unforeseen circumstances. As you predicted, his secret cloning and resurrection laboratory is on the planet Byss. You were right about his plan. To die, go into hiding, pit enemies against each other until he gathers enough forces under his command to conquer the galaxy anew!"
"Did you read everything?" I clarified.
"Only what Palpatine himself wrote," the girl said. "The last, sixth part of the book. 'Absolute Power.' That was enough for me to understand what kind of man he really was. No," she shook her red waterfall of hair. "Not a man. A monster. To lie so skillfully to everyone — from the first person to the last..."
The girl fell silent, biting her lower lip.
I stared at her without looking away.
And I understood a simple thing.
Psychology is a subtle science. They say 'play on the strings of the soul' for a reason. And every guitarist's fear isn't to embarrass themselves on stage during a performance, but to slit their throat with a piece of string that snapped from overtension.
The same here. She was at her limit. Probably, the girl hadn't expected that everything, absolutely everything I said was true. Inside, she had allowed some justifications for Palpatine's actions toward her, torn between choices — betrayal and loyalty. But what she found here... This was the point of no return. The boiling point.
And a sign, as if granted from above.
Never, under any circumstances, would I reveal the secret of my origin in this galaxy. Maybe I would have to carry this secret with me to the end of my life, maybe I would someday reveal it to someone, but...
It would definitely not be Mara Jade.
She had already been betrayed once.
To anyone who did it a second time, she would cut off their head. Or something worse.
"This must be destroyed," I said hoarsely, closing the book.
"There is a chapter about you too, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," the girl said quietly. "'The Excellent Executor.' 'The most competent of the sycophants around me.' 'Threat.' 'Salvation.' His thoughts and assessments of your abilities changed every time you either carried out his order or disobeyed and didn't send personnel to the slaughter... He respected you and... feared you... There's no direct mention, but..."
"Do you believe me now?" I asked, looking her straight in the eyes. The girl nodded. I didn't know what she had read about herself in that book, but it had clearly thrown her off balance. "This monster must be stopped. And all his efforts must be consigned to fire as well. None of those secret knowledge he gathered and used to achieve his goals should ever see the light again."
With these words, I stood up and walked to the central part of the throne room. To where, after a pile of computer panels had collapsed onto a stormtrooper's head, a dent half the depth of a human skull had formed. I threw the red-covered book into the man-made pit. I turned to look at the silently standing girl behind me. Our eyes met. I extended my hand:
"An incendiary charge, please." Mara Jade silently detached a small disk from her belt. An incendiary detonator, designed for ignition. A rare thing, but occasionally useful. If they had had these in the past on my home planet in the city of Salem, or with the Catholic Inquisition, heretics would have burned much faster.
Leaning down, I connected the device to the title page. The cover might not ignite immediately, but would be burned through; the pages, however, would ignite instantly.
"We could study it," Mara Jade suddenly said. "There are surely some of his secrets there that could give us a clue on how to fight this monster."
"We already have the answer," I said. My heart beat faster. My temples throbbed. What if she kills me now, breaking before the desire to gain 'Absolute Power' into her own hands? To learn the secrets of the Sith... "We will destroy him and his evil Empire as we planned."
"But we ourselves could become stronger," her voice whispered, and her breath seemed to burn my ear. "An invincible armada. My power and your genius... We would bring the galaxy to its knees..."
All I needed to do was simply press the detonator button. All she needed to do was grab her lightsaber and cut me down. She wouldn't start a brawl. She would finish me here and now. Take the 'Book of the Sith' and... Everything I feared.
Still, was there any point in trying to avoid this fate? With the Force as her ally, she was faster, more agile, and deadlier. And if she had managed to read even some terrible secrets from the book... There was no worse enemy than a deceived woman. And this one in particular would not care whether the one who ruled this or that part of the galaxy had deceived her. She would sweep away everyone in her path...
Just when I thought the crisis of the Luke Skywalker clone had passed, here was a new calamity...
"Mara," I said, looking at the girl. "No power is an easy path to greatness. It is hard labor, the value of which you only understand when you achieve your goal through long and persistent effort. It is not a reward — it is an obligation. To yourself and those who have trusted you. To become a monster and a butcher in order to destroy another like that? He who fights a monster by its rules becomes a monster himself. We don't need the 'Book of the Sith' to win. We will do it, but on our own terms. Without losing who we really are. We will not become monsters."
With these words, looking directly into the girl's eyes, I pressed the detonator. Until the very last seconds, until the work of several thousand years of the greatest Sith burned away. To the last page. Mara Jade watched the handful of ashes remaining where the 'Book of the Sith' had been. Then she looked at me.
"Palpatine was mistaken about you, Grand Admiral," Mara Jade said, with a suddenly firm, confident voice, devoid of pretense and seductive tones. "Even though you are different from humans, even though emotions and compassion are alien to you, and logic, calculation, and the study of other races' cultures give you an undeniable advantage over the enemy, even though you have a different skin tone and are of an entirely different species, you have humanity and compassion. Much more than some people. This secret will die with me, Supreme Commander."
With these words, she knelt on one knee before me.
"What will my mission be, Grand Admiral?" she asked without raising her gaze.
For how many times this day had my world been turned upside down?
While I was making plans and testing my subordinates, the red-haired vixen had tested me. And issued a lifetime credit of trust. If only I knew the interest rate.