After the flashlight beam hit a rocky dead end, Reynar heard a heavy sigh behind him.
And a faint ripple in the Force, exuding sadness and disappointment.
"All right," the former Inquisitor said reluctantly. "I admit it. This was a stupid idea."
"Let's go deeper into the caves, Fodeum," the Jensaarai mimicked him. "We'll find lots of crystals there, Fodeum. No, Fodeum, we don't need a map or anyone's help; we have the Force."
Obscuro ground his teeth, suppressing the urge to give his student's face a good beating with an armored gauntlet.
"Calm," he told himself mentally. "Just calm."
"Consider it part of your training," he said.
"And what's this exercise regimen called?" the Jensaarai snorted, sitting down on a boulder. "How to Survive Two Weeks Without Food"?
"The Force sustains us," Reynar reminded, feeling his stomach twist into a tight knot. The last time they'd eaten was a couple of days (maybe days) ago, when they killed some local creature. The beast wasn't very meaty, but at least they could fill their empty stomachs with something. "We'll go back the same way, reach the spring of water we saw a few caves back, and fill our canteens. The Force…"
"I have a strong suspicion, my teacher," the Jensaarai said with a yawn, "that this network of caves, filled with crystals, doesn't really want a couple of sentients who use the Dark Side of the Force to get out of it."
"What a perceptive little bastard you are," Reynar thought, looking around.
Yes, he wasn't mistaken — they'd reached the natural crystal deposits on Dantooine that the Twi'lek Vex had read about in the walls of the ruined Jedi enclave. And there were plenty of crystals here. He had about a dozen of these little gems stashed in his pockets. Moreover, they practically hummed with the Force, indicating their extraordinary potential.
Reynar was already tired of mentally cursing himself for falling for a trick like some youngling.
At first they kept encountering fairly weak crystals, but the echo of the Force spreading through the cave corridors beckoned so strongly that the Inquisitor couldn't resist. His thoughts raced with speculation — from powerful crystals to ancient Jedi artifacts the Jedi might have hidden here from the Emperor, Vader, and the Inquisitorius.
And that greed drove him deeper and deeper into the caves, ignoring his apprentice's remarks, the intensifying emanations of the Light Side, and the fading of the Dark Side.
He had lost track of the exit long ago, and now, surrounded by the Light Side, he understood he couldn't use the Force or the Dark Side he was accustomed to in order to foresee the future and find a way back to the surface. All he had achieved by expanding his perception was the realization that they had gone very, very deep underground. The rising temperature in the dead-end cave confirmed as much.
Yet another dead-end cave...
Reynar wiped salty sweat from his forehead, stealing a glance at the Jensaarai.
Sabre De'Luz sat calmly on a boulder, relaxed, tired, and clearly disappointed.
Yes, he had also gathered crystals. A lot of them — he took some for himself and some for his comrades on Susevfi. Such an altruistic youth. He was hauling a full backpack of crystals — at least three kilos, maybe more. That would be enough for a hundred highly efficient lightsabers. As if any of it would matter if both of them — the Inquisitor and his apprentice — died here.
They had to get out. Walk, just keep walking.
Clear his mind of anger and rage. Try to trick the Force by rejecting the Dark Side so he would stop being lost against the overwhelming power of the Light Side. Oh... To escape and save his life. But he would come back here!
He would definitely come back!
The moment he reached the surface, he would change the search location for the archaeological team. Forget the Enclave ruins — nothing remained there but time-worn statue fragments and lofty texts about the power of the Jedi and the Light Side, weathered by wind, sand, stones, and erosion.
Everything Dantooine had to offer was here, in this cave. It needed to be completely stripped clean. Even if the crystals weren't useful for the Jensaarai, they could be profitably sold on the black market — the aristocrats from the Tapani sector loved such curiosities. They even supposedly played at being Jedi, crafting low-power lightsaber replicas. Or so the rumors said.
And how many other lunatics in the galaxy would jump at Jedi crystals and pay a pretty sum for them?
"Get up," he snapped at his apprentice, walking back toward the cave exit. "Time to head back."
"I was taught not to exhaust myself without dire need," Fodeum declared.
"Consider this dire need," Reynar said, peering into the darkness of the corridor. No light rods remained; the Light Side was practically blinding him. But he had to find the exit. He had to. He wasn't going to die here, dozens of meters underground. If he had no other choice, he would climb to the cave ceiling and cut through the rock until he found a way to the surface.
There had to be an exit! There must be one!
He couldn't die so ingloriously! Not now!
"We need to rest," Fodeum said stubbornly. "You can't keep fueling yourself with the Dark Side indefinitely. The body has limits and—"
"Listen here, you snot-nosed brat!" Reynar lunged in one bound to the Jensaarai, grabbed him by the chest of his robes, and yanked him to his feet. For a split second he even felt a flicker of satisfaction at seeing fear on the boy's face in the dim light of the luminescent fungi. Then he realized how pathetic it was — scaring the only person who could help him in a tight spot. "If we stay here long, we'll die. The Light Side cancels out the Dark Side. We're practically helpless here. Exhausted. Weak! The sooner we start looking for the way back, the faster we'll get out."
"If that's even possible," the boy said wearily. "Look, we're spent. Vex has probably already organized a search operation — we've definitely been stuck here for more than a day. We just need to sleep a little, wait for help..."
"We don't have time to sleep!" Reynar shook the kid, hoping his brains would fall into place. "Don't you get it?! The Light Side of the Force is hostile to us! Sleep here for an hour, two, three, five — and we'll be completely trapped in it. No matter how hard you try later to summon anger and rage to suppress hunger and fuel yourself — you won't be able to. Because this damn atmosphere of contentment will just smother you with its calm... One wave cancels another! That's how more than one Jedi hid — crawled into a spot reeking of the Dark Side and patiently stopped using the Force. Because staying in a hostile environment is unnatural. It drains your strength. Your body will start weakening until you die, eventually! We have to keep moving!"
"We'll just wait for Vex and the rescuers," Fodeum said firmly. "Get some sleep, let our bodies rest, go back to the cave with water, and search for the exit. Even if this is a labyrinth of underground galleries, from memory—"
He fell silent abruptly.
Reynar felt it too.
Releasing the boy, the Inquisitor stepped aside and unclipped his lightsaber. His thumb found the activation switch by habit... And then Reynar realized his hand was trembling.
His body really was overtaxed.
That was why he had sensed so late that something — or rather someone, an adept of the Light Side — was approaching them.
He habitually turned his rage inward, stoking the blazing fire of anger within himself that was meant to strengthen him and guide his hand for a killing blow.
The Dark Side responded... but he felt it like sounds reaching a diver from the surface through several meters of water. His worst fear had come true.
He was weak.
Still, in the half-darkness of the cave, catching a glimpse of Fodeum also taking a combat stance, the Inquisitor spotted a figure.
In a dark brown cloak, with a hood pulled over its head.
The figure approached and stopped, as if studying them.
And now Reynar understood that they had both walked into a trap.
Because the Jedi — and this unexpected guest could be no one else — had become like a cork in a bottle. The walls of the Light Side of the Force had now closed around them.
The mousetrap had snapped shut.
"Tired," the figure said in a low voice. Reynar automatically identified the speaker as a man. And judging by his accent — from an amphibian species. "I'm worn out chasing you through all these caves."
A lightsaber appeared in his hand, and a white-blue blade cut through the darkness. In its glow, Reynar could make out the stranger's facial features.
A Mon Calamari.
Black bones of the Emperor! A fish was about to carve them to pieces?!
He would rather have starved to death — at least it wouldn't be so humiliating!
"You don't have to do this," Fodeum said. "We're not bad people. We only needed the crystals and—"
"Don't waste your breath on words, boy — they won't move me," the Mon Calamari replied, swiftly assuming a combat stance.
A very distinct stance.
Form III, Soresu.
Perfect defense.
"Why does every thorn in this galaxy's side use Soresu?" Reynar sighed, activating his own lightsaber.
If they were anywhere far from this place, he would have made sashimi of this Jedi with ease.
But now, exhausted and depleted...
It looked like he was in for a fight to the death.
"Step aside, kid," he said, moving forward, letting the meager traces of the Dark Side course through his body. Everything else he had left, the Inquisitor chose to pool inside himself, to spend evenly and only with certainty. "I'll wear him down, you finish him off."
"If you ask me, he's about to tear us apart," Fodeum said just as quietly.
"Tear us apart?" Reynar gave a bitter laugh. "Kid, he's about to kill us."
And at that moment, the Mon Calamari Jedi lunged into the attack.
* * *
Seated in the chair on the central platform of the Star Destroyer, I watched as the gray triangle of the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer turned to jump into hyperspace.
For a moment, all seven of its engines — three primary and four secondary — intensified their white-blue glow, and the ship vanished from the scanner screens.
"Stand down from battle stations, Captain," I ordered, addressing the commander of the Chimaera standing beside me. "Relay to the Black Asp: 'Disengage gravity well generators, prepare to transition to the rendezvous point with the fleet.'"
"Understood, Commander," Pellaeon replied. "Are the orders for the Crusader and the Steel Aurora the same?"
"Correct, Captain," I confirmed.
At that moment, I heard the sound of the turbolift doors opening.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn!" a furious female voice rang out. "This is too much!"
"Another hysterical woman," I thought with some dismay, turning my chair to face my guest.
If nothing else, Baroness Fina D'Asta certainly knew how to carry herself with both majesty and arrogance.
She wore a simple traveling outfit (if a dress embroidered with aurodium patterns could be called "simple"), light, understated makeup, her snow-white hair done up in a plain style... and a regal gaze as she strode across the central platform, flanked by two black-and-red figures of Imperial Guardsmen.
"Hmm... They really do behave identically," I thought, noting that the guardsmen moved in perfect sync. They even took their posts on opposite sides of the central platform as mirror images of each other. Judging by the barely perceptible twitch in Major Tierce's gaze as he brought up the rear, he too had noted the correctness of Iceheart's observation (what else was I supposed to call a clone of Isard?). The clones gave themselves away. Though this critique only held true for someone who knew what to look for.
In this part of the conversation, the unIsard had been right. If only she wouldn't try to "probe" me at every first conversation, figuring out my strengths and weaknesses, she would truly be invaluable. Meaning that then she wouldn't be needed at all, because of her uselessness.
To me, she was primarily an intelligence asset, as well as a factor that prevented complacency and resting on one's laurels.
"I'm pleased to meet you in person, Baroness," I said in a calm tone, looking at the young woman, whose face expressed anything but the same "joy" toward me. At least she didn't have the elaborate hairstyles of Padmé Amidala.
"Are you mocking me, Thrawn?" she asked, pursing her lips.
"Occasionally," I thought. It must be some unfunny joke of the universe — making pretty young ladies into ruthless bitches with inflated self-esteem.
"I assure you, such motives are foreign to me," I continued the conversation.
"You... you..." so, her vocabulary was also limited. A pity. I had expected a more restrained and reasonable demeanor from a baron's daughter. "Are you out of your mind?"
"According to this morning's medical exam — quite sane," I replied.
The gravity of the unfolding drama was slightly undermined by Captain Pellaeon, who snorted into his fist and barely suppressed a chuckle. Fortunately, the tactful commander of the Chimaera turned it into a cough and within a second had restored his usual impassive expression. But his eyes...
His eyes, unfortunately, betrayed the Destroyer's commander.
Gilad was obviously struggling not to laugh.
"Return to your duties, Captain," I ordered, saving the situation. What could I say — humor wasn't my strong suit. Or was it?
"Aye, sir," the commander of my flagship Star Destroyer reported briskly, heading toward the watch specialists.
Strange — why was the bridge watch smiling? And trying so hard to hide those smiles...
The young woman let out a long breath, closing her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them, she was already calm. She had pulled herself together remarkably quickly.
"Grand Admiral," she said in a more composed tone. "Would you be so kind as to explain why you used the gravity trawl of your interdictor cruiser to drag my ship out of hyperspace?"
"Ah, that's what this is about," I nodded. "Tell me, Baroness, where are we right now?"
"Aboard your ship," she tossed her head.
"Correct," I nodded. "Do you know where my ship and the escort vessels are located?"
From the way her cheekbones tightened, the young woman (she was barely half my age, so I allowed myself to think of her that way) clearly signaled that such trivialities did not interest her.
"In space, Grand Admiral," well, I couldn't argue with that.
But the local edition of elementary education wasn't over yet.
"At which specific point in space?" I clarified.
"Um..." the Baroness hesitated. "I'm not a navigator and—"
"We're one parsec from the Dominion border," I had to spell it out. "That's the northern border of the Ciutric Hegemony, which is under my protectorate."
"Right," the woman confirmed. "So what?"
"As I suspected, you decided to disregard my warnings," I declared. "During our conversation, you were informed that you were not to come here on a large armed vessel."
"Why, you—"
I raised the index finger of my right hand.
"To avoid any irreparable mistakes you're about to make, allow me to note that I promised to destroy any military vessel that crosses our borders without proper authorization," the girl paled. "Right now, the Destroyer that brought you here has set course back to Orinda. That route passes through the Kantz sector, which has long been a haven for all sorts of criminal scum. That's precisely why our task force is stationed there now. They have orders to pull anything from hyperspace and destroy anything that moves along that specific course without Dominion IFF. As it happens, your Destroyer's hyperspace vector passes very close to our detachment's staging area. And the order is still active."
"Grand Admiral!" the Baroness's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare destroy the flagship of the Orindan armed forces!"
"Exactly, Baroness," I confirmed the obvious. "But, as you may have noticed, the Chimaera is here."
The girl tensed. The pieces clicked in her mind.
I was here. My fleet was here. She was alone, surrounded by potentially hostile officers. And the Star Destroyer was flying to a place it had no business being... It was extremely unlikely that anyone would ever find out what happened there.
"I do not appreciate the violation of agreements, even if they were made verbally," upon hearing these words, the young woman went paler than her own hair. "In two minutes and thirty-one seconds, your Destroyer may be intercepted, fired upon, and boarded if it does not surrender upon first demand. Afterwards, I will return everyone except the Destroyer, naturally, to Orinda. Along with my written explanation of the reasons for this situation. I am certain the Imperial Ruling Council will not be thrilled that you, a representative of Imperial Space authority, so casually decided to ignore a warning about not violating my borders."
"Thrawn," she addressed me in a quiet, calm voice. "What are you trying to achieve?"
"An apology, Baroness," I told her. "For violating the inviolability of the Dominion's borders, of course."
Fina D'Asta furrowed her thin brows, fixing me with a fierce glare.
"Forty seconds, Commander," Major Tierce counted, acting as a chronometer.
The young aristocrat threw him a heavy look as well.
The former Guardsman returned it, making the Baroness flinch. Yes, I understood her perfectly. Even I sometimes found it hard to withstand that cold-blooded killer's gaze, let alone a politician.
"Thirty seconds," Tierce broke the silence.
It seemed life on the bridge had frozen. The crew, running final checks before crossing the light barrier, glanced our way, watching to see who would win this battle of wits.
"Twenty seconds," the former Imperial Guardsman said coldly, like a metronome.
"Fine," the young woman surrendered. "I apologize, Grand Admiral. Hast made me disregard your warning. I will be more cautious in the future," oh, really? So she intended to visit the Dominion more than once? Interesting. Why wasn't I among the first to know about this? "I ask you to cancel the order to attack the Star Destroyer of Imperial Space."
"Apology accepted, Baroness," I said, glancing at my adjutant. "Have Baroness D'Asta's belongings been delivered to her assigned quarters?"
"Yes, Grand Admiral," Tierce confirmed. "The crew of the shuttle that brought her aboard the Chimaera has been billeted in the duty berthing. The shuttle has been moved to the lower deck of the cargo hangar."
"Thank you for your efficiency," I said to Tierce.
"Grand Admiral!" the Baroness stepped forward, approaching me. Rukh took one long stride and placed himself between us. Black obsidian combat knives flashed in his hands. Fina recoiled, then looked at me. "You promised to cancel your order to attack the Star Destroyer!"
"I'm afraid, Baroness D'Asta, you misunderstood me, Baroness," I said.
"What?!" The girl transformed into a raging fury for a moment. "You promised not to intercept the ship or destroy it!"
Her agitation was understandable — people of her station were not often put in an awkward position. Especially not publicly. But the consequences for her would be far more serious than the mockery of fifty people on the Chimaera's bridge watch if the events I described actually occurred.
"As I already said, Baroness, you apparently misunderstood me," I continued. "My people are at their post. And it is located near the course your Star Destroyer is following. If they had orders to intercept vessels traveling the same route you used to get here, they would have intercepted you before we did. If you had listened carefully to what I was saying, you wouldn't have found a single logical connection between the stationing of my ships, their assignment, and any potential problems for your Destroyer."
"So that means..." now she blushed. A face red as a tomato, snow-white hair... Such striking contrasts. If you looked at the girl in profile, she somewhat resembled the flag of Poland. Red, white... and deeply ashamed of her past actions. Meanwhile, everyone around was amused by her blunders...
Well, well. My thoughts were wandering off into the wrong arm of the galaxy.
"Wordplay," her face showed how hard it was for her to pull herself together. "Clever, Grand Admiral, I'll give you that."
"Thank you," I gave a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment. "Now, if you don't mind, I suggest you proceed to the quarters assigned to you and settle in for what will not be a short journey."
"Aren't we returning to Ciutric?" she frowned.
"I was forced to meet you at the border because I couldn't ensure my presence in the Hegemony's capital," I had to explain. "Circumstances require my participation in an unfolding military campaign. Since, by your own account, our discussion cannot wait, I invite you to accompany me in the upcoming battle for the Oplovis sector."
It seemed time to call in competent specialists.
Because the baroness's eyes were about to pop out of her head.
"We're heading straight into a combat zone?!" she was taken aback.
"Of course," I confirmed, signaling to Captain Pellaeon.
Before the Baroness could find the right words, the Chimaera tore through the metric of space, surrounding itself with the white-blue hues characteristic of breaking the light barrier.
"You certainly know how to surprise, Grand Admiral," she finally regained control of her emotions. "I never thought my first personal meeting with you would involve being dragged to the front lines."
"The galaxy is an extremely turbulent place, Baroness," I observed philosophically. "You simply need to get used to the constant changes in circumstances. To prevent you from getting bored, I have arranged the best possible vantage point for you to observe the coming battle. When you've rested from your journey and are ready for a constructive dialogue, let me know."
"Knowing you, it's safe to assume my cabin will be somewhere on the battery deck," the lady retorted without real malice, turning on her heel and heading for the exit.
After she had walked several meters, I quietly called Tierce over:
"Immediately move her belongings from the commander's quarters of the fourth broadside battery to the suite in the superstructure."
"The only one currently available is next to yours, Grand Admiral," he added just as quietly.
"Carry on," I ordered.
Well, I hoped during her rest hours this lady wouldn't be using a jackhammer, playing the piano, or singing "The Indomitable Union."
Not that I doubted the soundproofing of my cabin — it was just... She would be guarded by Guardsmen. And judging by the nature of a hardened bitch like her, she might manage to piss off even Tierce's clones. Especially if she stayed aboard the Chimaera for a while.
* * *
The landing zone of the medium freighter purchased from the shuttle by the Imperials was located right next to their ship. Under any other circumstances, Mara and Ahsoka would have had no chance of sneaking aboard the starships they were interested in — if the spaceport had been somewhere on Tatooine and consisted of a simple hole dug in the ground or fenced off by technical buildings.
But this was Wohai.
Here every landing pad was a complex of technical structures.
Ahsoka had no trouble infiltrating the Lambda's landing zone — she used the same scheme as last time.
Judging by the fact that the Imperials hadn't bothered much with access codes, they were clearly in a hurry to get what they needed from the Herlig and get out.
But the merchant was clearly a disappointment.
Mara had been watching for days now as the Imperial ships took turns departing once a day to a designated loading zone and returning to their berths in the spaceport with new cargo every time. The shipping containers bore Imperial and Kuat markings, so the conclusion was obvious — the merchant had far larger stockpiles than he had let on to her.
He had simply done everything to get rid of a bothersome client so he could sell more spare parts to his regular customers. No doubt at a markup. She wondered if he had any Neimoidian blood in his family.
Not likely, though. The interspecies barrier and all that.
Mara, as any good crime victim would, had vanished from sight.
Ahsoka, still playing the role of a dutiful handmaiden, had spent all that time continuing to search for the equipment her mistress "urgently needed." They had made a few token purchases to throw off suspicion; the rest the Togruta had rejected as supposedly not meeting her requirements. Never mind that the equipment was perfectly adequate. Some of it hadn't even been used once.
To every question from the hotel administration about where her mistress had disappeared to, Tano, playing the cowed servant, would only say that such things happened with her lady, and perhaps she was spending time with new acquaintances.
Mara had really wanted to hit her. Because thanks to the Togruta's efforts, the local hotel administration now believed (unless they already knew about the assassination attempt) that Countess Cleria was a rather promiscuous and available lady who had finally escaped her family's oversight and was now throwing all caution to the wind.
Jade mentally bid this "legend" farewell. It was a shame. The young, feisty little Kleria — who a decade ago had presented herself to everyone as a refined young talent — she had liked. But with such a "tail" of rumors trailing behind her, it would be better for the Countess to die quietly somewhere. For example, to vanish without a trace in a Wohai back alley. Who knows what the local criminals might have plotted against her. Criminals who had also vanished, by the way.
Yes, she had cleaned up the bodies — by now they were dissolving in the acid that filled the pipes and sewers of the local sanitation system.
In any case, let Thrawn's procurement officers assess the possibilities of buying spare parts for her fleet's ships here on Wohai. She would be sure to report this "aureodium vein" once she returned from her mission. Out of old habit, to avoid exposing herself, she had minimized contact with command. If an agent had to report every step they took to their superiors, that was for Imperial Intelligence or the ISB. Or however Thrawn had renamed them in his Dominion.
A Hand was a Hand because she operated autonomously. A goal was set, and she achieved it.
Mara watched the freighter, noting the hidden laser and torpedo emplacements, the false identification markers, and the sharp-dressed but rough-looking thugs guarding the ship and the wide cargo bay doors. Some distance from the doors, three landspeeders stood idle — they had been used to bring small purchases to the ships, things like expendable couplings, convectors, monitors, and other parts that you could buy from any merchant's stock.
Turbolasers, projectors, shield generators, dismantled life support system components, and hyperdrive parts were a different story. Highly specific ones, at that.
Through the warehouse doors, she spotted several men in loader uniforms moving shipping containers and boxes onto repulsor sleds and guiding them up the ship's ramp. The warehouse was packed with goods — piles of boxes and containers were stacked everywhere.
By default, Imperial warships were equipped with class-2 hyperdrives. Depending on the ship's size, these varied in scale. The larger the ship, the larger the hyperdrive it required.
Thrawn's Hand noted the numerous crates marked as hyperdrive components, and a clear picture formed in her mind.
The Imperials from the Lambda who had organized the hit on her were buying two types of hyperdrives. Class-2 and class-12.
The first one on the list seemed straightforward enough — a standard model for the main hyperdrive on Imperial ships (though it was considerably larger than those on, say, an Imperial-class), but the latter...
Not many ships used that type of hyperdrive. Especially when its size was comparable to a heavy cruiser. Any lingering doubts evaporated.
The Imperials were buying equipment specifically for a Super Star Destroyer. From the looks of it, that ship had been badly damaged in battle, and now the Imperials intended to quietly buy spare parts, repair its hyperdrive, and...
Just how much damage a single Executor-class (if it was that one, and not some Vengeance-class) could do if it suddenly appeared on a battlefield — the New Republic had learned that lesson the hard way when the Lusankya quite literally came out of nowhere.
Behind her, the landing zone opened onto another warehouse building, divided into smaller bays with a narrow service corridor between them. She found the entrance to the corridor and reached the point where, as her memory told her, she would be hidden behind stacks of crates. Reaching out to the Force and sensing that no one was nearby or approaching, she stepped away from the wall and ignited her lightsaber.
A click, followed by the characteristic hiss of that weapon — a violet blade emerged from the hilt.
She stood still for a moment with the saber in hand, looking at the weapon, acclimating to the tactile sensation. Then she assumed a stance, lowered the blade, and gently touched it to the wall in front of her.
The wall was thick and reinforced. It took three cuts to determine its depth. The rest went faster. She positioned the blade so it would fully penetrate the wall without extending outside, where its glow might be visible in the shadows, and cut a narrow inverted triangle — just large enough for her to crawl through. Shutting off her sword, she used the Force to grip the cut section and pushed it forward.
It gave way with a muffled crunch. Straining with effort — the chunk of wall was far heavier than it looked — Mara made it float about half a meter forward and carefully peered inside.
Size doesn't matter, right? Hutt twice! While your brain is analyzing information and you can't stop imagining that you can just lift and levitate a piece of construction weighing twice your own body weight with nothing but your mind and a wave of your hand — nothing will work.
The Emperor, when he trained her, never explained that. He just told her to stoke her emotions, her anger, her fury, and all the other companions of the Dark Side of the Force.
But Ahsoka, while they were en route to Wohai, had just yawned and said, "Don't clutter your head with nonsense. Just want that thing to move, imagine where it needs to go, and it will move, it will get there. Just keep your thoughts clear of all that junk. When the Force gets involved, physics takes a backseat." To be honest, Mara had been a bit floored by the Togruta's pedagogical skills. Until she realized that Tano had a point. Sure, the first try wouldn't amount to much — regular practice was necessary.
Just as she herself had once abandoned the Force and lost her ability to wield it, so too had countless Jedi tried to evade the Inquisitors by ceasing to use the Force. And when they were found, after years without training, even the most experienced and powerful among them lost to Inquisitors — most of whom had either never learned Jedi arts at all, or had served in Order divisions completely unrelated to combat. The Jedi Order's AgriCorps, for instance, after its destruction, had gifted the Inquisitorium with many, many candidates and operatives.
Still, one thing she could thank Palpatine for was that he had taught her non-Force techniques for memory development (among many others) which she still used and actively applied.
And right now, it hadn't taken her long to memorize the layout.
Once again, the Emperor's memory training exercises paid off. The hole she had cut in the wall landed exactly in the center of the crate stack she had been aiming for.
Mara, reassured once more of the secrecy of her actions, pushed the triangular plug another half meter forward. Confirming she was still unnoticed and that no alarm was sounding, she slipped through the man-made triangular opening, then used the Force to wedge the plug back into the wall. After that, the red-haired beast hung her lightsaber on her belt and crept to the edge of the shelving, where every shelf was packed with cargo containers.
Her eyes swept over the boxes — they contained small parts for starship internal systems. Small stuff, not worth her interest. What the Imperials were after was coming through the loading zone.
Watching how many crates the loaders were piling onto sleds and hauling aboard the ship, her first thought was that the Imperials had caught wind of her actions and were preparing to make a run for it. That would be a reasonable move — when you don't get confirmation of an assigned task, it's better to play it safe.
That was probably what they would have done if they knew she was alive. But realizing that the girl had disappeared, their anxiety had eased. Until it became obvious that the hired guns weren't coming back either.
She honestly didn't know why they wanted her dead. It could be anything except a positive identification. They didn't know her as the Emperor's Hand, or as Thrawn's adjutant, and certainly not as Thrawn's Hand.
The most likely scenario was that the Imperials had decided to eliminate a competitor without fully understanding who she really was. They probably needed so many Imperial parts — the shortage of which had recently prompted the New Republic to send operatives into every galactic backwater — that the guys had just panicked and mistaken her for one of those Coruscant agents. They must have thought she was about to expose them or shut down their supply line.
On the one hand, that wasn't bad. On the other, it was almost insulting. A Republic spy? Her? Seriously? Was she really that bad at her job?
She spotted both Imperials she had seen in the dive bar standing near the ship. Perfect. That meant their shuttle was unguarded, which would make it easier for Ahsoka to infiltrate their main ship.
The plan was brutally simple: get aboard the starships and take control of them after they jumped into hyperspace. Yes, she might have to deal with the crews — the Imperials had hired several locals from the fringe — but when had that ever stopped anyone? The key was to capture the Imperials after they entered the coordinates into the navicomputers.
Because these guys were seasoned. When Ahsoka snuck aboard their ship, she found the navicomputer on the shuttle completely empty. And Ghent wasn't around to poke through the electronics. She wondered what that guy was up to now.
Mara moved along the shelving, getting as close to both Imperials as possible while remaining undetected.
."..almost done," said one of them, the one who was clearly the subordinate. "Finally we'll be able to bring the life support back online on the third deck, and Drommel will stop driving us up the wall..."
Drommel?
Admiral Gaen Drommel? Commander of the Oplovis Sector Fleet?
Seriously? So he's alive?
Well... Now she could stop worrying about what exactly she was hunting.
These supplies were meant for the Guardian, an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer that had served as Admiral Drommel's flagship.
And it was believed destroyed.
So Thrawn's tip that the ship had survived the battle after all was true.
She wondered who had whispered that information to him. It would be interesting to find out the Grand Admiral's intelligence sources. But...
She wisely would not do that. If even the Jedi girl Tano had decided it was best to earn "loyalty points" with the Grand Admiral, then why should she, a Hand, do anything different?
Thrawn had given her the chance to become a full partner.
She had squandered that chance, and now she was nothing more than a subordinate.
Just like in Palpatine's time. Except he didn't worm into her head and call her "my child," like that senile old man had loved to do.
"It's just that we haven't heard from the mercenaries," the commander grumbled. "That has me worried."
"Who cares?" the subordinate shrugged. "That Republic spy is dealt with." He waved a hand. "We're getting everything we need to get the Star Destroyer out of the hole it's stuck in. So Drommel will be back soon enough..."
"Right." There was no joy in the commander's voice at this news. "I just heard the latest reports." He paused. "Grand Admiral Thrawn really exists."
"So what?" The subordinate sounded genuinely bewildered. "No one can stand against the Guardian..."
"Don't be an idiot," the commander snapped. "The ship is heavily damaged. Thrawn, from what I hear, has a whole fleet. And his starships started appearing in Oplovis just half a day ago. Some systems are already under his control; some, like Ketaris, are under Republic control. We poke our heads in there — they'll tear our Guardian apart, just like the Republic propaganda already said."
"We need to tell Drommel about that," the subordinate muttered. "He's been pretty jumpy lately."
"Wouldn't you be?" the commander asked. "The Grand Admiral is an alien, he's got a huge fleet that hit the Republic so hard they had to pull forces from across the galaxy to restore the Fourth Fleet's combat capability. And he even took their Bellator from them... Can you imagine how much power he wields?"
"The Guardian would tear him apart..."
"Even all those turbolasers," the commander gestured toward the freighter, "wouldn't be enough to restore even a tenth of the super Star Destroyer's combat capability. Drommel doesn't get that. He still dreams of returning to Oplovis on a white starship. He's got it into his head that everyone will be terrified just at the sight of our Star Destroyer. And that no one will have the eyes or scanners to realize the ship is a wreck. At this rate, it'll take another five to ten years to restore it. And Drommel will run out of money long before that..."
"Come on, why would he?" the subordinate seemed surprised. "I heard there are some holds on the ship packed with Oplovis's treasury..."
Mara strained her memory.
There was something to that. When she had worked for Karrde, they had made a couple of trips to the Oplovis sector. And many people there had been furious with Drommel for dying along with the entire treasury, leaving the sector — which had declared itself neutral — to quickly fall into economic crisis and be forced under New Republic control just so the population wouldn't starve. So Drommel's reserves were on the Guardian? That was truly wonderful news! Thrawn would certainly be happy to get both the ship and the means to repair it...
"Well, if that's the case," the commander sighed, "dragging ships full of weapons and spare parts across the entire galaxy... We'll have to work hard to avoid Republic patrols."
"Not like we haven't done it before," the subordinate waved dismissively. "What worries me more is that someone tried to buy out the parts for our Star Destroyer."
"And is still doing it," the senior Imperial sighed. "I asked around carefully — the parts are going to the Quelli sector. But who needs them and for what is unclear."
"Zsinj's territory?" the subordinate was surprised. Mara was in complete agreement. Who in Quelli would need spare parts for a Super Star Destroyer? Or were they talking about standard Imperial parts? If it was the first, that stank to high heaven. If the second... not quite as bad. But still unpleasant.
"That's the one," the commander nodded. "I don't know who exactly needs hyperdrive parts for the Executor-class, but if it turns out that Warlord Zsinj survived, and the New Republic screwed up yet again..."
"This galaxy's getting a bit cramped when every other warlord has a Super Star Destroyer in their hands," the subordinate sighed mournfully. "Well, what's done is done. We'll tell Drommel, let him figure it out."
"Agreed," the commander said. "Alright, head to the shuttle. We leave in an hour."
"As you say." The Imperials shook hands, then each went their separate way. The subordinate headed for the exit from the landing zone, and the commander toward the ramp leading aboard the freighter.
Now then...
So much food for thought from just one overheard conversation.
Mara sighed.
And there was so much more to learn once this talkative pair fell into Thrawn's interrogators' hands.
Still, one question remained unanswered: who needed parts for a Super Star Destroyer and why?
Had the New Republic decided to repair their Lusankya somewhere in the Quelli sector, amidst the rampaging bands and Imperial deserter hordes?
The theory wasn't bad, except for one thing. Which Mara had already raised in exactly the same context.
The New Republic had no reason to buy Super Star Destroyer equipment on the black market at triple the price.
They could just go straight to the suppliers and manufacturers — to Fondor and Kuat.
Just like Ardus Kaine.
Just like Palpatine, through his network of spies.
So what kind of bantha's belch had settled in the Quelli sector and was assembling itself a Super Star Destroyer?
Sighing heavily again, Jade began to figure out the best way to sneak aboard the Imperial freighter.
And as if to mock her efforts, a young loader appeared in her field of vision, rounding a corner of the shelving. He was craning his neck, looking for a specific box, when he suddenly stopped, his eyes blinking.
"Uh..." he hesitated, seeing her. "Ma'am, what are you doing here?"
"You won't believe it," Thrawn's Hand said with a radiant smile, closing the distance with one swift, fluid step. "I was waiting for you."
"Oh, really?" was all he managed to say before a straight punch from the red-haired beast's seemingly fragile fist knocked him out.
Five minutes later, with the unconscious — but alive, thanks to medical sedatives — loader securely hidden under the shelving in the darkest corner, Mara, thoroughly disguised, continued his work delivering cargo.
And at the first opportunity, she simply vanished into the endless corridors of the transport starship.
An hour later, the ships — a GR-75 medium freighter and a Lambda-class shuttle — left the spaceport of Wohai and entered hyperspace.
Two hours after that, they were pulled out of it by the gravity anomalies of an Interdictor-class Star Destroyer, part of an operational task force led by the Star Destroyer Void Wanderer under the command of Captain Abyss, who had been dispatched to that point in the galaxy by the direct order of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
And five hours after that, having returned the ship they had arrived on on Wohai, Thrawn's Hand and Ahsoka Tano were in the VIP quarters assigned to them, where they could finally sleep, surrounded by people who would never betray them.
By that time, the prize crews had already taken control of the Imperial starships, reported the situation to the Supreme Commander, and the task force had jumped into hyperspace, returning to the Dominion.
* * *
Bre'ano Umakk.
That was this Jedi's name.
It wasn't that he had introduced himself — Reynar remembered it on his own.
And as ridiculous as it sounded — it came back to him after a blow to the head.
A Jedi Master who had "fallen off the radar" after the implementation of Emergency Order 66. That was almost thirty years ago.
And not a single Inquisitor had yet been able to boast of picking up his trail or finishing off the conspirator.
And here he was, apparently, hiding...
Jedi Master Bre'ano Umakk.
Reynar parried a treacherous thrust that should have pierced his chest. But to do that, he had to drop to one knee to block his opponent's blade.
This Jedi was good.
But not because he was stronger.
He had chosen the perfect moment to attack. He must have stalked them, waiting for them to be weakened and cornered.
A cunning tactic.
But not a Jedi one.
An Inquisitor's.
Catching his opponent's right leg with his hands, Reynar abruptly rose, sending the Jedi crashing to the cave floor. The Jedi twisted, rolled to the side, and backflipped to break the distance between them. But he still blocked the exit from the cave.
A Mon Calamari, not the least bit winded from the fight, still saturating his body with the Light Side, seemed fresh and fierce.
His thoughts were calm and completely unruffled.
A true machine, a droid in an alien's body.
"So you've been sitting here on this planet while we exterminated your fellow Jedi?" Reynar sneered right in his face. Not that he was consciously trying to use Dun Moch — he was just stalling for time to recover from the first exchange.
The proximity and concentration of the Light Side were irritating.
And made it hard to call upon his rage.
His body's reserves were slowly draining, so to break through the unfamiliar Force — jelly-like and hostile to an Inquisitor — he had to take such breaks.
Which, unfortunately, also benefited the Jedi.
"Each of us has his own path." Hah, he fell for it. When a Jedi was silent and kept fighting, that was far worse. It meant his self-control was exceptional, and defeating him in "honest combat" would be very, very difficult. "The Dark Side will not save you, Inquisitor. I will stand to the end."
"Guys," came Fodeum's voice. He was circling to the enemy's left flank, just like in the training session with the Obscurial. "Maybe we don't have to make a bloodbath here? After all, the crystal caves are practically a sacred place."
"For Jedi, but not for champions of the Dark Side," Bre'ano Umakk snapped. "I will not allow anyone to defile this place."
"Come on," Reynar smirked, already planning the next move of the fight. "We grab a few crystals, leave quietly, and never come back."
"You will take nothing from here, spawn of the Dark Side!" the Mon Calamari roared. His large eyes did an excellent job of keeping track of both opponents. Oh, these reptiles... Or were Dac natives amphibians?
Oh, nobody cares who's who around here! An alien who's a problem. And all we need is a good rest and to turn him into little fish slices...
"Actually, we're not just any inquisitors," Fodeum continued. "I'm from the Jensaarai..."
"Abomination," the Mon Calamari spat on the floor. "I thought Halcyon and Kenobi killed you all. So you survived... and now you serve the Imperials!"
"Because they freed us from pirates!" the Jensaarai declared hotly.
Reynar took a cautious step to the left. The Mon Calamari reacted, turning slightly in that direction.
You fish-faced bastard! How do you even track limbs in this darkness?
"If you had any honor, you'd have freed yourselves," the Jedi cut in. "And if you think your stories will help you gather strength, you're badly mistaken — this place is of the Light Side. It will only make things worse for you."
"Oh, by the Emperor's black bones, shut your mouth already!" Reynar snapped, lunging forward.
The Mon Calamari adjusted his defense to focus on him...
And at that moment, a small stone shot toward him, launched by the Jensaarai. The Jedi vaporized it with a flick of his blue blade. At the same instant, he was forced onto the defensive against Reynar's heavy, sweeping strikes.
A lunge, a counterattack...
Then, in the next moment, Inquisitor Obscuro heard a whistle and felt his left hand go numb.
The Jedi exploited the opening to counter, but at the same time, he took a pebble to the head.
Breaking apart, both opponents glared indignantly at the young Jensaarai.
"Whose side are you on?!" they barked at the boy simultaneously.
"Sorry, sorry," Fodeum said, spreading his limbs as he gripped his lightsaber in his right hand. "Ballistokinesis isn't an exact science! I'm not a real Jensaarai, I'm just learning!"
Ballistokinesis? What the hell is...
He's using telekinesis to throw pebbles at them! Well, I'll be...
Reynar ground his teeth, cursing silently.
Why didn't he say he could do something like that before?!
"He's as much a student as Vader was a Jedi," Bre'ano Umakk grumbled, rubbing the bruised part of his head and shaking his fist at the Jensaarai.
Fodeum responded by launching another pebble, which was also destroyed.
Reynar suppressed the urge to laugh.
"Under other circumstances, I'd tell you a very interesting story," he promised.
"Trying to turn me to the Dark Side, Inquisitor?" the Jedi Master chuckled, still eyeing the young fighter suspiciously.
"You're the one who showed up in this cave!" Reynar shot back. "I don't need you at all! Just a couple of crystals! And a way out of here so I can forget this damned Dantooine!"
The Force suddenly filled with suspicion, its source the Mon Calamari.
"If you weren't Imperials, I might believe you," he said. "But I know for certain that as soon as you leave, other Imperials will come — Jedi hunters. And you won't leave the cave alone; you'll be tempted by the crystals."
"So, killing us would be better, right?" Fodeum asked. "We have a camp not far from here, guarded by a garrison of stormtroopers. Don't you think our comrades will figure out to look in the caves, especially when they find a hole in the hill?"
"I'll deal with problems as they come," the Mon Calamari promised, suddenly attacking Reynar.
Instinctively, knowing he wouldn't react in time any other way, the Inquisitor unleashed his fury.
Thrusting his left hand toward his opponent, he directed branching streams of white-and-blue Force Lightning at the Mon Calamari, who instantly absorbed them by raising his lightsaber blade.
For a few seconds, the cave was bright as day.
And in that moment, Fodeum was right there, delivering a downward slash at the Jedi Master's head.
The Mon Calamari, unflustered, kicked the new opponent in the torso with his left foot, sending the boy flying several meters.
Reynar, feeling his strength draining, charged forward, hammering the Mon Calamari with a flurry of rapid strikes to draw all his attention back to himself.
And it worked.
The Jedi parried every thrust, proving time and again that he was truly a master of Form III.
Oh, how Reynar hated Soresu.
A defense without flair, but also without weaknesses.
Every other style was made to compensate for or strengthen some aspect of its user, but Soresu...
The Mon Calamari's white-and-blue blade flashed right past Reynar's eye, leaving a painful gash on his cheek.
"You...!" The pain gave him new strength.
Reynar, feeling his body already at its limit, launched a counterattack.
He was angry at Fodeum for hiding his talent for throwing those pebbles.
He was angry at his own greed for coming here without backup, and for venturing into the deepest part of the cave.
He was angry at the Mon Calamari, who, for the first time in all the years Obscuro had hunted Jedi, had managed to wound him so grievously.
He drove forward completely and thoughtlessly, smashing through the Jedi's defense with brute force, knowing he was now nothing more than a thermal detonator about to trigger its explosive payload.
The Inquisitor drew the Force not from the world around him — there was no Dark Side here.
He tore it from within himself, literally burning his body with rage that coursed through his veins like liquid flame.
And the Jedi faltered.
Reynared sliced off the upper part of his blade, effectively destroying Bre'ano Umakk's weapon. This time, he truly savored the terror frozen in his opponent's eyes.
"Don't kill him!" The young Jensaarai's voice reached him, muffled, as if through cotton.
Why not?!
Execute the fish!
The Dark Side always demands something in exchange for the power it grants! Isn't a dead Jedi a suitable sacrifice, huh?
The best sacrifice, a sacred one!
The Dark Side adept spun the blade in his hand, raising it for the strike...
And at that very moment — in the second when the crimson flame was about to pierce the Jedi's chest — Reynar realized he had lost.
The Mon Calamari thrust his hand forward, pushing him away with the Force...
And that was the end.
Because the next moment, the Inquisitor's skull exploded with pain. His body stopped obeying him, and the dim light before his eyes began to fade...
The last thing he saw was a fist-sized rock smashing into the Mon Calamari's head. His fading consciousness just managed to catch the fountain of blood that sprayed from the broken hammerhead of the Jedi's face... and his limp body collapsing onto the floor beside the fallen Inquisitor.
Before consciousness went out completely, the Dark Side retreated, abandoning him like a used tool.
Peace and calm arrived.
Reynar Obscuro felt that his shackles had truly come undone.
And then his heart stopped beating.