Nine years, ten months, and the sixth day after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, tenth month, and sixth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and twenty-sixth day since the Arrival.)
Inside, as well as out, the Great Jedi Library was built from large stone blocks, clearly of volcanic origin.
And, as befits a structure of this magnitude, it possessed truly enormous interior spaces.
Once.
Now, it was simply ruins.
The once spacious corridors were now blocked with debris from columns, chunks of plaster, rocks, just dust...
Dust...
A lot of dust.
This place was literally steeped in dilapidation — and even the incredibly powerful lanterns barely cut through the gloom.
And even then, only so the travelers would stumble upon an endless amount of cobwebs and old blockages in their path.
However, this happened extremely rarely.
So rarely that Irenez began to think the Jedi Knight walking beside her, almost skipping along, could see in the dark.
"Here," Luke tugged at her sleeve, stopping her from heading into the cleared passage and instead pulling her off to the side, somewhere where blockages were visible and where no one in their right mind would venture.
But a Jedi would.
With every meter passed, with every corridor left behind, Anakin Skywalker became more and more withdrawn.
He was mostly silent, as if listening to something.
Probably, it was all about the Force...
Fortunately, her fears about the passage proved unfounded — Luke used the Force to move the boulders aside, and a perfectly preserved arched entrance lay before them.
Well, almost perfectly preserved.
The entrance arch was half-collapsed, and the passage itself held stone blocks half the height of a person.
But most of the passage was clear.
"It feels like no one has been here for a million years," murmured Irenez, forced to crawl on all fours to squeeze through the narrow gap.
"Several thousand years, at least," Anakin Skywalker replied. "I... Saw how this planet died."
"You don't seem that old," Irenez joked.
"Oh," Anakin Skywalker started to retort but clumsily raised his head and hit it on the remains of the arch. "I didn't see it personally... The Force helped."
"Is that why you screamed back in the cave?" the Corellian woman asked.
"Not only," the Jedi declared. "The Force sometimes allows you to see many variants of the future... I saw too much."
"Is that so?" the girl became interested. "And what awaits us?"
"Pain," the young Jedi said hollowly. "A lot of pain. Endless conflicts. I saw no peace in our future..."
The girl fell silent — just then they reached the end of this passage and emerged into a spacious hall.
Here and there on the walls, faded drawings still remained, a mosaic on the floor...
"Someone has been here," Irenez pulled a blaster from its holster.
"I know," the Jedi replied, brushing dust and cobwebs off his pants. "Something happening here, in this Library, puts the very return of the Jedi to the galaxy in question."
"Somehow, your words make me uneasy," the woman shuddered.
"Me too," the Jedi said seriously, continuing to look around. "We need to go there."
He pointed to the far corner of the hall, where the darkness was most profound.
Irenez felt goosebumps run across her skin.
Something ominous was emanating from that direction.
"Are you sure?" she clarified.
"Yes," the Jedi said firmly. "I can feel it... The Force itself tells me the right direction."
The Corellian woman wanted to ask for whom exactly this direction was the right one, but decided to stay silent for now.
After all, nothing bad had happened yet.
After about ten more minutes of wandering through corridors, she realized she had a question:
"There's no dust here at all," she noted. "This part of the building is being used by sentients."
"Yes," Luke agreed. "I... Can feel them. Two."
The woman swept her flashlight from side to side and shook her head.
"Unless they're janitors, it's highly unlikely there are only a couple of them..."
She stopped short.
"Ah... If you can feel them, does that mean they are like you?"
"Jedi are capable of sensing all living things," Anakin Skywalker explained to her. "It's hard to explain, but I can feel you too. And any other sentient being."
"Well, I feel safe then," Irenez sighed. "Two ordinary people are definitely within our capabilities."
"I didn't say they were ordinary sentients," Luke objected, which made Irenez's mood worsen. "But they aren't Jedi either."
And it was the last phrase, dropped by her companion, that finally left the Corellian woman bewildered:
"If they're not ordinary sentients, not Jedi, then who are they?" she asked, almost in a whisper, seeing the flicker of light at the far end of another corridor. It seemed to be torches... In some very large room, since the voices of two men could be heard.
"I'm afraid they are the same kind of fallen Jedi I've already had to face," Luke said grimly. "The same skills, but their intentions... Are clearly not aimed at the common good."
The Corellian woman silently switched her blaster's fire selector from stun to lethal.
Anakin Skywalker threw her a warning glance, intending to say something as a comment on the situation, but...
Resolutely remained silent.
A battle awaited them ahead.
* * *
The quiet sound of footsteps intruded upon the sentient's consciousness, tearing him away from listening to the holocron's gatekeeper.
The quiet crackling of the torches dispelling the darkness had become almost indistinguishable, blending into a single cacophony of sounds.
"I have packed the historical manuscripts, Master," said Travgen, addressing Eymand.
The Zabrak sat before a small white-blue cube, glowing from within with a gentle light and the warmth of the Side of the Force.
In a meditative pose, he had spent long days, interrupting his session only to supervise how the redeemed fallen Jedi Knight Travgen and the loyal local inhabitants — the Ysanne — were preparing the ancient relics of the Order for transport.
"Good," Eymand said, his voice hoarse.
"You need to drink, Master," the man said, handing the Jedi a canteen of life-giving liquid.
The Zabrak nodded gratefully, taking the container and putting it to his lips.
His thoughts, having emerged from the depths of history and knowledge to which he had been privy, were now directed at the middle-aged man standing beside him.
Sensitive to the Force, Travgen had received training in the Jedi Order in the final years of its existence.
He had earned the rank of Jedi Knight by the time the Clone Wars erupted between the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
A former student of Eymand's, also a Jedi researcher, he did not directly participate in the conflict, continuing his scientific and historical investigations.
His name did not appear in the report of the newly formed Empire — meaning, even back then, almost thirty years ago, it was clear he had escaped death.
As it turned out, he had escaped death and arrived here, on Ossus.
And had fallen to the Dark Side, subjugating several tribes of the Ysanne — descendants of Jedi who had survived the catastrophe many thousands of years ago.
Just to think — almost four thousand years had passed since the fallen Jedi Exar Kun caused a supernova in a nearby star cluster and effectively exterminated all life on the planet. But, as it turned out, there were survivors.
With whom, for some reason, the numerous expeditions of Jedi and archaeologists that had visited here dozens of times had failed to establish contact. The Ysanne simply hid from them, fueling the rumors that nothing living had survived on Ossus.
Wandering the galaxy, Travgen discovered the ancient Jedi fortress planet Ossus, a planet where he would settle. Possessing a superior command of the Force, Travgen easily took control of several local Ysanne tribes, the planet's native inhabitants. As their ruler, torn between the lust for power and the echo of his Jedi duty, he took it upon himself to protect the ruins of the ancient Jedi Library.
When Eymand arrived on Ossus, he fought Travgen, who was drunk on his power.
And defeated his former student.
And learned the story of his fall.
And, in the name of all Jedi, forgave the man who had strayed from the path.
For countless days now, they had wandered the buildings of the Great Jedi Library, extracting ancient manuscripts, data crystals, holocrons, lightsabers, engravings, mementos from the hidden caches...
All of this was to become part of the Jensaarai Order, of which Eymand himself was now also a part.
"You are exhausted, Master," said Travgen.
"In this holocron," the Zabrak pointed to the glowing cube, "there is a considerable amount of information."
"I could not open any of them," Travgen smiled apologetically.
"The gatekeepers did not want to share their knowledge with you, knowing you were exceptionally susceptible to the influence of the Dark Side?" inquired Eymand.
The man shook his head negatively.
"Perhaps that is so," he said uncertainly. "But... I was simply afraid of harming them. I held back my desire for an uncontrollable lust for power with all my might, so as not to cross the line. I was horrified every time I thought that I would extract knowledge from them, become someone powerful, and order them destroyed so that no one else would ever learn what the holocrons had told me."
Travgen was not strong in wielding the Force or a lightsaber.
But at the same time, he was one of the possessors of such a unique gift of the human mind as rational thinking.
The temptation of seizing ancient Jedi secrets for one who acted guided by the Dark Side of the Force could indeed awaken the selfish desire to destroy the original data repositories. Such things had happened more than once, so the man's fears were understandable.
"You did the right thing, preserving all this for posterity," said Eymand, feeling sensation beginning to return to his stiff limbs. "The knowledge you guarded will become a new milestone in the formation of the Order..."
"Of the Jedi?" Travgen asked timidly, even childishly.
The Zabrak shook his head negatively.
"I am afraid not, my friend," he declared. "I would give a great deal to go back in time and show Yoda, Windu, and the other Masters the wonders and ancient archives you and I have found here. Perhaps it would have allowed the Jedi to survive the catastrophe, to change... Oh, how many mistakes could have been corrected if we had possessed these riches before."
"Is it really that serious?" Travgen blinked.
"This," Eymand again pointed to the data storage device, "is the holocron of holocrons, created by Grand Master Bil Duktaviss, the leader of the Jedi Order. He also held the post of Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic after the Pius Dea Crusades."
"Is it over eleven thousand years old?" Travgen gasped in surprise.
Eymand smiled weakly.
The student had always been fascinated by history, and he sincerely admired how sentients lived and what achievements they had made in the distant past.
"Precisely," Eymand confirmed. "It contains information about the ancient history of the Galactic Republic. From what I have learned, much of what is recorded in modern historical chronicles is either unreliable or incomplete. This holocron can provide answers to a great many questions, shedding light on the Jedi's misconceptions about attachments and much more. But there is something more important..."
"What could be more important than establishing objective truth, Master?" Travgen tensed.
"Finding what has been forgotten," Eymand explained. "Contained within, albeit vaguely, in different coordinate systems and extremely complex formulas, is... We can rediscover many of the planets visited by the ancient Jedi and their predecessors — the Je'daii!"
"Tython?" Travgen gasped, recalling the name of the homeworld of the Jedi's predecessors.
"And not only that," Eymand declared. "Had Abbadon, Lettow... Dozens, if not hundreds of worlds and moons, forgotten by history, but preserved here. The great knowledge and wisdom of older generations. The explanation of simple truths that led thousands of Jedi to the Dark Side... We distorted everything," the Zabrak said bitterly, looking dejectedly at the holocron. "Millennia of lies and misconceptions... How many Jedi became Sith because they could not control their emotions? How many tragedies occurred, how many great Jedi did we lose because of the prohibition on marriage? The ancient Jedi did not impose such restrictions on themselves. Do you remember how, in the Order, the hypotheses that the Je'daii controlled both sides of the Force were ridiculed and considered false?"
"Many supporters of that viewpoint fled the Order," Travgen saddened. "Because they could not confirm their research, which was based on contradictory and not entirely reliable sources..."
"Here is a source that is hard not to believe," Eymand said sadly, pointing to the holocron. "Paradoxical as it may sound, attachments, starting families were not forbidden to the Jedi in the past... Bil Duktaviss's holocron even contains a description of an ancient Jedi marriage ceremony..."
Travgen shook his head:
"The Jedi have changed significantly over the years."
"And knowledge of our past can help them finally become what they were before the multiple upheavals changed us," said Eymand. "The Jensaarai use, among other things, the Dark Side to do good, to protect sentients... To think that those who, in the final years of the Galactic Republic, were considered a radical sect are much closer to the original Jedi than we, the last of the Old Order... And there are other Jedi groups and movements that partly interpret the ancient truths and traditions without falling to the Dark Side. The Corellian Jedi, the Almas Jedi, the Altisians... Just think how much stronger the Order will become and how much faster we will begin to overcome crises if we gain control over the ancient knowledge of those who once ruled the Republic..."
"Master," Travgen said almost inaudibly. "But this means..."
"Yes," Eymand said, his words heavy with sorrow and grief, understanding where his former student was leading. "However it may sound, in the sense in which we knew the Order, it is time for the Jedi to end..."
"I won't allow that!" an unfamiliar, young voice rang out, full of strength and unshakable faith in his own righteousness. "The Jedi will live!"
At the far end of what had once been a library hall, both former Jedi could see a middle-aged man dressed in dark robes, very similar to the Jedi robes of the past.
Together with his companion, he stood at the threshold of one of the corridors that had previously been unused due to a collapsed ceiling.
And they had clearly not come here for negotiations, judging by the lightsaber hilt gripped in the man's hand and the blaster pistol in his companion's possession.
One look at the newcomer was enough to understand who now stood before the former Jedi.
Eymand, who had long since felt the approach of his journey's inevitable conclusion.
The Force prepares many trials for its followers, testing the firmness of their views and convictions.
Including self-sacrifice, the readiness to go all the way for one's aspirations.
Strangely enough, this holds true for all teachings about the Force.
For both Jedi and Sith...
And for those who view the Force differently.
For instance, the Jensaarai, to whose ranks both Travgen and Eymand himself now belonged...
"Who are you, and why have you violated the sanctity of this place?!" the Zabrak's student demanded menacingly, barely containing his rage.
Eymand rose to his feet, letting the currents of the Force flow through him to invigorate his body and prepare for the inevitable battle.
A fight not for the life of each person present here, but for the future of the Jensaarai Order, as the successors of the ancient Jedi.
The true Jedi.
"I am Luke Skywalker," the young man introduced himself, not taking his eyes off both Jensaarai opposing him. "A Jedi Knight! And the Jedi legacy will not serve those who intend to use the Dark Side."
"The ancient Jedi used it," Eymand remarked calmly. "This holocron," he pointed to the extinguished bluish cube, "is direct and irrefutable proof of that. The Jedi lost a significant portion of their knowledge and wander in darkness."
"That is precisely why I am here," said the descendant of Darth Vader. "So that Jedi knowledge does not fall into the wrong hands."
"And who appointed you the seeker of the Jedi legacy?" Travgen asked, his voice ringing with fury.
Eymand placed a hand on his former student's shoulder.
The fallen Jedi looked at his teacher, and in his eyes, the former teacher read understanding.
Yes, Travgen knew very well whose descendant stood before him.
And the pain of losing all those Jedi who had been killed by Anakin Skywalker, who later became Darth Vader, now spoke through the mouth of the fallen Jedi researcher.
"I..." Skywalker hesitated. "I don't think we need to start a fight over this. Any disputes and conflicts can be resolved peacefully, through negotiation."
"Is that so?" asked Eymand. "Through negotiation, your father, succumbing to the Dark Side, slaughtered the Jedi in the Temple on Coruscant? Or perhaps, through negotiation, he executed the Younglings, exterminating innocent children who didn't even see him as an enemy?"
"I..." Skywalker faltered, turning his gaze to his companion, as if seeking support from her.
"You can call yourself a Jedi Knight as much as you like, descendant of Darth Vader," Eymand said. "But who gave you the right to call yourself that? Perhaps your teacher? Or the High Council of the Order?"
"No," Luke's face darkened, and the shadows cast by the torches turned his face into a mask of shame and uncertainty. "Both Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda died before I fought my father and became a Jedi Knight..."
"What?" Travgen said, stunned. "You think that fighting a Sith makes you a Jedi?"
"Yoda told me..."
"The Grand Master said many things," Eymand said, trying with all his might to resolve the brewing conflict peacefully. "But the procedure for becoming a Jedi Knight, as well as a Jedi Master, goes back to ancient traditions. You cannot call yourself a Jedi, Skywalker. You, like your father, became Jedi only because of the whim of individual members of the Order, nothing more."
"You knew my father?" Skywalker asked with interest. "Were you Jedi before?!"
Travgen snorted in irritation.
"There are few Jedi who haven't heard of your father," Eymand declared. "And many have met him. I had the misfortune of seeing him exterminate Jedi..."
"I intend to correct what my father did," Skywalker declared resolutely. "The Jedi Order will be restored. The New Republic will certainly help me with that."
Only by the end of his sentence, his voice had lost some of its firmness.
"In the five years since the Emperor's destruction, how many Jedi have appeared in the galaxy?" asked Eymand. "How many academies or praxeums have you founded?"
"They're giving us the runaround," the Jedi's companion said. "Luke, they're stalling for time. Their people are clearly here."
"I know," Skywalker shook his blond head. "There's much I would like to learn from you about the past of the Order. I would like to study the Jedi art under you, but I cannot allow what you are talking about. The Dark Side must not be used by Jedi!"
"But it was used!" Travgen shouted impatiently. "Not the way the Sith do it, but it was used! And then the Jedi forgot their roots! They grew weak! They fell victim to extermination!"
"That is precisely why it must be restored to the form it existed in before the Emperor's interference," Skywalker stubbornly repeated. "You believe the Jedi grew weak by setting aside many of their ancient practices. I am certain they did so deliberately, so that the Dark Side would not cloud their minds. The Light Side helped me triumph in my confrontation with my father and the Dark Side. The galaxy is plunging into an abyss of chaos, and only the Jedi can withstand the coming crises. The Order must be restored so that the Jedi may continue serving the Light Side!"
"We will restore it," said Eymand. "The way it existed thousands of years ago. You are mistaken when you say the Jedi serve the Light Side. We served the Force. And the interests of the Senate, which was corrupt a little more than entirely. We became pawns in someone else's game, and that will not happen again. The Order must serve the interests of the state and the people, not defend the viewpoints of senators or anyone else..."
"You're talking about usurping power," Skywalker said disappointedly. "Personally, or serving those who oppress the people — it doesn't matter. I'm sorry," an emerald-green lightsaber blade ignited in the air. "I repeat: I cannot allow Jedi knowledge to serve an unworthy cause."
"And we cannot allow ancient knowledge to fall into the hands of a half-trained novice who intends to step into the same sarlacc pit!" Travgen declared. "With every new extermination, the Jedi grow weaker and lose their knowledge. All you can do is hand the Order back over to ambitious corrupt officials so they can fund the Order's restoration!"
"The New Republic isn't perfect, but only democracy can give sentient beings what they deserve — freedom!" Eymand finally realized that there would be no agreement.
Maybe he was wrong to hold the son responsible for the father's atrocities, but... To allow someone to once again turn the Jedi into blinkered servants of the Senate, where every sentient pursues only their own gain, and concern for the people and the state comes as an afterthought...
No, that game had already been played.
And it had led to the near degeneration of the Jedi.
"I ask you to leave, Luke Skywalker," the Zabrak said, unhooking the hilt of his lightsaber from his belt. "However this duel ends, you lose either way. The Jedi in the form you wish to restore them will never see the light."
"I don't want to fight," the young man admitted. "But apparently, there is no other option. I won't allow the Empire to create its own Jedi, trained by those who cannot see the evil of the Dark Side."
"Then we will have to fight," Travgen declared, gripping his own weapon more comfortably. "You are the son of a murderer. It is not for you to decide what the future of the Jedi in the galaxy will be!"
"I will not abandon my mission!" Skywalker stated firmly.
"This shouldn't happen," Eymand made one last attempt to stop what was coming, looking into the eyes of the blond-haired bearer of a name that surviving Jedi pronounced only with a curse. "Just leave, and no one will get hurt."
He understood perfectly who now stood before them, and what the descendant of Darth Vader was capable of.
His overwhelming superiority in the Force was impossible to miss — especially for two not particularly powerful Jedi researchers.
Skywalker might be self-taught, he might not have completed a full training, but he had a clear and undeniable advantage over both his opponents.
The Force had always been with his family.
And where they lacked grace or talent, he and his father would simply brute-force through the enemy's defense with raw power.
Even though he faced two opponents, even though they were fully-fledged Jedi, neither Travgen nor Eymand had any meaningful experience or skill in lightsaber combat.
They both wore the traditional Jedi weapon only as the most common attribute of affiliation with the Order.
And as a tribute to the traditions that had been buried nearly thirty years ago by the one who came here now.
As for matching the glorious traditions of the Jedi Consulars of the past, who tore their enemies apart with the Force alone and crushed armies in single combat — that was out of the question.
A Jedi researcher is a Jedi Consular only as a tribute to tradition.
In reality, their ranks had long been filled with those weaker than most others and unfit for active operations in the restless corners of the galaxy.
The outcome of this duel had been sealed long before the three Force-sensitive beings bared their blades.
All of them — green hues.
The colors of Jedi Consulars, keepers of knowledge...
But that was just a tradition that had long since faded into oblivion.
Skywalker shook his head negatively in response to the proposal made to him.
"I'm sorry, I can't. But I suggest you leave."
"Luke," his companion said unexpectedly. "They're just stalling! We're probably already surrounded..."
"So be it," said the self-proclaimed Jedi Knight, slowly advancing toward both Jensaarai.
"We did everything we could, teacher," Travgen whispered, uttering an unfamiliar phrase in the local dialect. "Ysanne will hide what's prepared for shipment and give it only to Dominion representatives. The ancient knowledge will never fall into the hands of the murderer's son and the New Republic."
"There's one more thing to do," Eymand said, opening himself to the Force with a smile of relief on his face.
"What exactly, teacher?" asked Travgen, not taking his eyes off the approaching Skywalker.
"We need to delay him for a short while," Eymand said, already ready to meet his fate. "Until those who can put an end to our discussion arrive."
And the two former Jedi researchers began moving apart to opposite sides, intending to start a battle they could not win.
They just needed to keep buying time.
* * *
"All three droid groups from Project Morrt are transmitting coordinates steadily," Captain Pellaeon reported, handing me a datapad with the data. "The navigators are already calculating the course."
Meanwhile, the Chimaera was moving through hyperspace beyond the D'Astan sector.
"Has Grand Moff Ferrus sent a report regarding the preparation of defensive lines with adjustments?" I inquired.
"Thirty percent complete," Pellaeon replied. "We only have one CGT, so the process is slow. Every ship in the Dominion Defense Fleet, without exception, is already involved, as are all regular fleet vessels free from other tasks. But we're still twenty percent behind schedule. Primarily due to the large production volume of cloaking field generators."
This was precisely the bottleneck I had been concerned about.
"Instruct Grand Moff Ferrus to prioritize the major hyper-lanes first," I ordered after a moment's thought. "The sixteenth batch of fleet technical specialists will be ready in ten days. Inform Major General Covell that the seventeenth batch should also consist of this clone type. Send the order to headquarters — all these specialists are to be dispatched to Tangrene to assist with Project Asteroid-II."
"Understood, sir," Pellaeon replied. "We're fortunate to have a large stockpile of hollowed-out asteroids from the Korva sector, and more continue to arrive from Karthakk..."
"Don't confuse luck with planning, Captain," I advised. "Are the requested regular fleet starships ready for the operation?"
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon answered. "They're awaiting us at the rendezvous point."
"Have the Noghri team and the guards from Nez Peron sent any data regarding the Baroness D'Asta's activities?" I asked.
"According to the latest report, she's still drinking," the Chimaera's commander grimaced.
"Everyone copes with the pain of realizing they're a clone in their own way," I shrugged. "Have we received resignation reports from the D'Astans?"
"Ninety-three percent, sir," Pellaeon stated. "The remainder are on ships engaged in current operations. Recalling them at this time is not rational."
"Agreed," I nodded. "Is the company for reselling Republic equipment to the Baroness's forces operational?"
"We had to bribe several Hutt officials on Nar Shaddaa, but we obtained all the necessary documents. The company has already sent us an official request to purchase equipment for delivery to Tammuz-an's fleet."
"Approve it," I ordered.
So, no delays here.
We sell outdated Clone Wars-era equipment to a shell company, they sell it to the king of Tammuz-an, and our agents on that planet will then resell it to the D'Astan sector for the Baroness's forces.
Yes, it's not much to write home about — outdated, unmodernized equipment filling our warehouses (the modernized stuff is needed for our own planetary defense forces), but it's better than nothing.
Especially since, compared to D'Astan's own technology level, it's not much worse.
In such battles, pilot or soldier skill often decides the outcome, not the manufacturing date.
And when it comes to ground equipment, the D'Astan aristocracy's forces haven't progressed beyond the level typical of AT-TE walkers and the like.
"Have we received data from Third?"
"Yes, sir, and it's very encouraging," Pellaeon stated. "The recipients feel fully conscious; the testing and cognitive function verification procedure is nearing completion. Third reports that we're simply wasting time on unnecessary work, as the operation was carried out in exact accordance with the brain transplant methodology and..."
"It is for us to decide how to evaluate her work," I countered. "What about the gravity-well station projects?"
"They're progressing, but Shipwright Zion asked me to remind you that the production capacity of our own gravity well generators is at a low level," Gilad said. "Enough for another dozen stations, then we'll have to wait..."
"Remind Shipwright Zion that the production of gravity well generators is his area of responsibility, so there's no need to shift the blame. If industry can't keep up, everything must be done to fix it," I declared.
My thoughts, meanwhile, circled around one idea that could solve this problem in the shortest possible time.
But that would be a delicate conversation.
"I've already reminded him, sir," Gilad smirked into his mustache. "He promised to do everything possible to ensure station production doesn't stop for a single minute."
Well, that gentleman's promises could be believed.
But not necessarily.
Especially when it comes to the defense capabilities of the entire state.
"Thank you, Captain. You're dismissed. Inform me as soon as we reach the rendezvous point."
"Aye, sir," Gilad saluted before leaving my quarters.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I activated my holoprojector, selecting an encrypted channel leading to a single recipient in the entire galaxy.
I had to wait a few seconds before the hologram of Grand Moff Kaine appeared before me.
"I was starting to worry you'd taken offense at that scene aboard the Reaper," he said with a crooked smirk.
Excellent. The code phrase had been delivered with the appropriate expression.
The conversation was secure.
"Good to see you in good health, Grand Moff," I said. "I'll get straight to the point. I need some specific equipment."
Ardus narrowed his eyes.
"At this rate, I'll lose my entire fleet to 'New Republic raider operations,'" he remarked.
"And that would preserve your subordinates' lives," I reminded him.
Kaine feigned a sad sigh.
"Can't argue with logic," the Grand Moff declared. "How can I help?"
"I need all the gravity well generators from the decommissioned Immobilizer 418-class interdictor cruisers at your shipyards," I said in a neutral tone, not taking my eyes off the hologram of the ruler of the Pentastar Alignment.
Kaine processed the information for a few seconds.
Then he said, "I'd rather have given you the Reaper back then, Thrawn... You'll get those generators. I was just planning to clear my warehouses of unnecessary junk and transport it to a remote storage base. I think the convoy will make a stop at Dantuin's orbit to adjust course..."
I nodded gratefully and disconnected.
So, there was an opportunity to finish the interdiction stations, and there would be a large amount of very valuable equipment on hand.
And no small number of Vindicator-class heavy cruisers.
And a great need for interdictor cruisers...
Well, I think some shipyards will need to be paid overtime for the next few weeks.
* * *
A moment before they burst into the torch-lit hall, they both felt that it was already over.
The sensation of a Jedi's death, especially one so close, was never mistaken for anything else.
Especially when there were two deaths.
Experienced in the ways of the Force, Ahsoka had almost immediately figured out how to track the movements of life-force concentrations against the natural background of Ossus, which significantly sped up their progress.
Mara could only follow the Togruta.
And they arrived...
At a spacious hall, its walls, columns, and ceiling covered in a web of cracks.
Just at the moment when the emerald-green blade hissed back into the hilt of the man in black robes.
And Master Eymand's body collapsed to the floor, clutching a dim bluish cube in his hand. A Jedi holocron...
The legendary repository of ancient knowledge that, as Mara knew, both Darth Sidious and Darth Vader had hunted.
And now, that piece of invaluable information slipped from dead fingers and landed in the killer's hand.
"Luke!" shouted a woman Mara hadn't noticed before, who opened fire with a blaster at the newly arrived girls.
Mara coldly deflected the barrage, sending it back at the shooter.
Hit in the leg, the woman crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
The Jedi was instantly beside her, assuming a combat stance, ready to repel an attack.
"Give back what you took!" Mara demanded.
The Jedi didn't have time to reply.
"To hell with that!" Ahsoka shouted, her voice full of rage, breaking into a run. "I'll take the holocron from his corpse! Stay out of it!"
Mara accepted the warning not to interfere with the fight with cold professionalism.
After all, in such a battle, only those who can coordinate and work together beforehand prevail. Otherwise, they would just get in each other's way. So Mara, not taking her eyes off the wounded woman Skywalker was shielding, ran over to Master Eymand.
The Zabrak lay on his back, muttering something incoherent under his breath. Next to him, face-down on the floor, lay a middle-aged man, his face frozen in a mask of fury and concentration.
Mara Jade had no idea who he was.
A lightsaber wound was hard to spot — a microscopic cut in width that doesn't bleed because it's instantly cauterized by the energy blade.
But the girl saw the wound — the lightsaber had struck one of the Zabrak's two hearts.
The second, if the Force was to be believed, was working overtime. And the cause was a blaster burn.
Mara reached into her endless supply of pouches on her belt.
The Togruta, on the move, ignited both of her lightsabers — a main blade and a shoto — and launched into the attack without preamble.
Lightsabers clashed with a crackle, while the shoto dipped under the enemy's guard and slashed at the edge of his right arm.
Such a blow should have severed half the muscles and the radius bone, but not in this individual's case.
The artificial prosthetic burst into plumes of smoke, and the holocron fell.
Mara, displaying considerable foresight, caught the data repository and pulled it to herself. She reflected the barrage from Skywalker's limping partner, who had gotten to her feet, right back at the shooter.
Though the woman managed to take cover behind a chunk of stone that had once been part of the ceiling.
Jade, grabbing the thought by the tail, glanced upward with interest.
Cracks were spreading across the ceiling above her head — running in different directions, multiplying, and connecting to each other.
This place clearly wouldn't hold up for long.
And that blaster-wielding lady was hiding for far too long.
Jade, grabbing the Jedi by the edges of his cloak, surprised by the Zabrak's lightness, dragged the wounded man behind the nearest column.
"Ignorance, yet knowledge," Mara suddenly heard the Zabrak whisper, opening his eyes so unexpectedly that the girl nearly jumped aside.
This guy knew how to surprise.
"Good morning," she muttered.
"You came," he said.
"Couldn't you have cleaned up this place?" Jade inquired, applying a Bacta patch to the wound. "If not for the droids, we'd be running in circles through your labyrinths."
"Leave it," the Zabrak placed his hand over hers, preventing her from administering the medication. "I don't have long left."
"Even less if I don't inject the stimulants."
"You don't understand," the Zabrak smiled blissfully. "I... found my peace."
"Sounds more like a dying man's delirium," Mara admitted.
"No," the Jedi Master continued to smile foolishly. "You don't understand. I was there when Darth Vader killed the Jedi in our Temple on Coruscant. I saw it..."
"Not the best memory to have," Mara grimaced, imagining the scene for just a moment.
"Twenty-nine years I've been tearing my mind apart with the thought that if I had intervened back then, maybe I could have fixed something, stopped him..."
"Sooner or later Vader would have spitted you on his sword, just like his son just did," Mara said, not mincing words.
"Now I know that," the Zabrak declared, his eyes closing. "Don't waste your time on me, Hand of Thrawn. It's time for me to join the Force. I've done everything I stayed alive for back then."
"Something tells me one imposing man with blue skin and red eyes would be upset if you decided to merge with the Force right here," Mara stated.
"I secured a future for the Jensaarai," Eymand said with a good-natured grin. "Ancient knowledge... The locals are hiding what we found right now," he placed his hand on the holocron Mara was still clutching. "There's a lot here, but not everything. Return to the basics. Remember: the Jedi Code was changed. It was misunderstood and generations were raised incorrectly for centuries..."
"You have a hole in your chest, your heart is cut to pieces, the second one is pounding like an overheated reactor — are you sure you want to talk about some mantra right now?" Mara clarified.
"'Emotion, yet peace.
Ignorance, yet knowledge.
Passion, yet serenity.
Chaos, yet harmony.
Death, yet the Force,'" the Zabrak recited, pressing her hand against the holocron. "This — is the path to the origins. The future of the Jensaarai. The Jedi were wrong. You must be better than us and serve the people not in word, but in deed. That is the true calling of the Order. Travgen and I realized this too late, but I didn't want to return with just artifacts, without understanding what was actually contained within them..."
"That decision cost you your life," the girl noted through the Force that the Zabrak was clearly weakening. And it wasn't a matter of an overloaded circulatory system...
"We accepted the battle and died for a just cause," Eymand whispered, looking somewhere past her. "Never retreat if truth is on your side."
Mara closed her eyes for a moment to suppress her irritation.
When she opened them, it turned out she was just staring at an empty Jedi robe.
She spent a moment checking whether the delirious Zabrak had slipped away somewhere, leaving her his worn clothes.
"Now that's a trick," the girl muttered, tucking the pleasantly warm holocron into a pouch on her belt.
Then she slipped out from behind the pillar and finished off that blaster-wielding bitch.
* * *
Stepping back under his opponent's onslaught, Luke felt another life snap and went cold.
He glanced toward Irene's hiding spot.
Next to the body from which the violet blade had just been withdrawn stood a red-haired woman in a tight combat suit.
The image he had already seen.
During his solo journey to Dagobah.
That woman could have been on Jabba's barge on Tatooine during the rescue of Han and Leia. If she had been there, the whole plan would have gone to the rancor, and Luke would have been taking a trip into the sarlacc's stomach.
But the main thing was something else — the Force was showing him this woman, sworn to serve Grand Admiral Thrawn.
He got distracted and nearly missed a blow that could have cost him his life.
Thankfully, the lightsaber hilt was locked solidly in his fingers due to a short circuit in his right hand prosthetic, damaged by the Togruta's attack.
"Unpleasant, isn't it, when your friend gets killed right in front of you?" there was nothing human in that icy voice.
The Togruta advanced, delivering quick, sliding strikes that Luke struggled to block.
The opponent didn't possess great physical strength, but when it came to fencing, she could easily run rings around Luke after giving him a thorough thrashing.
Only his closeness to the Force allowed the Jedi to counter the opponent, knowing where and how she would strike.
"The pain of losing Irene won't make me turn to the Dark Side of the Force," he paused and muttered quietly:
"So, you were a Jedi too..."
The Togruta spun the lightsabers in her hands — one shorter than the other — and began walking slowly toward him.
"You know, Skywalker, I spent a lot of time understanding the realities of the present day," she said. "I waited a long time, watched who you are, what you do, and whether it was worth joining... But, thanks to you, today you've put everything in its place. A true heir to your father. Kill two weak Jedi and consider yourself a victor — oh, yes, that's so Skywalker of you."
The young woman lazily dragged one of her blades across the stone floor, relentlessly closing in on the cornered Jedi.
Luke instinctively took a few steps back.
"You know who I am, but I don't know who you are," he said, looking around for an exit.
But the one he came through was guarded, like a hungry rancor in the pit at Jabba's Palace on Tatooine, by the red-haired woman from his visions.
"Ahsoka Tano," the Togruta introduced herself.
She attacked without warning, and only through another miracle of his close connection to the Force did Luke manage to avoid decapitation from her blade and a diagonal gash across his chest from the shorter one.
But he couldn't protect his chest from the kick of her boot.
The Jedi flew to the opposite wall and quickly got up.
The Togruta kept advancing.
Slowly, yet simultaneously a synonym for an inevitable finale for the Jedi Knight.
"Eymand was my friend and mentor," the opponent continued. "When the Order turned its back on me, when your father began hunting Jedi, Master Eymand found me and completed my training. Just as he once trained Travgen, whom you also killed. That harmless kid," she nodded toward the corpse of the young fallen Jedi Luke had struck down in the very first seconds of the battle, "was an old acquaintance of mine — we were in the same clan of younglings. Before your daddy went off the rails and became Palpatine's attack dog. Tell me, what do you feel, talking about your intention to rebuild the Jedi Order, after killing two Jedi researchers?"
Skywalker gathered the Force in his left hand and released it in a single burst, hurling the nearest chunk of wall at Tano.
The Togruta easily dodged the projectile flying toward her.
"Most likely, I won't have enough patience, and your suffering will end sooner than you deserve," the Togruta promised, still advancing. "I assure you, it will be a quick death. Not the kind your father granted to other Jedi. And not the kind that befell my friends."
"The Dark Side of the Force speaks through you," Luke said, feeling the rage emanating from his opponent.
"And I'm not a Jedi, to fret over controlling my emotions," the Togruta declared. "But, I assure you, I'm merely in a borderline state. Although many would like to see me exclusively on the Dark Side of the Force. I'll tell you more — your daddy, even as a Jedi, managed to torture people, choke them, and pull off other Dark Side tricks. And then cried like a little girl because they didn't make him a Jedi Master."
"I've been through this already," Luke shook his head, remembering his battle with his father in Cloud City. "Your taunts don't affect me. You're only proving the rightness of my mission to rebuild the Order, free from the Dark Side of the Force."
"Oh, well, then start with yourself," the Togruta suggested. "You're all for everything Jedi, against everything non-Jedi, aren't you? Well, you yourself are the product of breaking the Jedi celibacy."
Luke silently swallowed the taunt.
"You are well-informed about what happened to my father in the past," the Jedi Knight noted. "Were you friends?"
"His apprentice," Ahsoka stated. "And I knew Kenobi well. And a good hundred other Jedi your father killed."
"The sins of the fathers are not passed down to the children," Luke countered.
The distance between them closed dangerously.
Five meters — striking distance.
"Sooth yourself with that mantra, self-proclaimed Jedi," the Togruta sneered. "Your family is strong in the Force. I'd even say it always tips the scales in your favor in the current game of life. It has helped you before. But today, right now, you face a true Jedi Knight. A trained combatant."
"If I am meant to meet my end here, the Force will help me rid myself of you," Luke muttered, taking a combat stance.
"The problem is, you're forgetting the art of fencing, kid. But," she shrugged almost good-naturedly, "let's see..."
Luke was distracted for a moment — deflecting a blaster shot toward the ceiling, courtesy of the fiery-haired woman. In response to his clumsy maneuver, the shooter only grinned.
After a momentary hesitation, Luke lunged at the Togruta, but the opponent parried him in a flash.
Luke added a Force push.
But Ahsoka Tano sidestepped again, immediately spun, arched like a bow, and slashed with her blade. A flash followed — her blade did graze his prosthetic, stripping away its outer casing.
But that was trivial — the prosthetic was already dead and held the weapon securely.
Skywalker switched to a counterattack, lunging and delivering powerful blows.
The opponent blocked them, letting his blade slide along her weapon. After a dozen thrusts and counter-thrusts, Luke realized his mistake — putting his physical strength into his strikes was only exhausting him.
While the Togruta's effort cost her nothing.
And then there was that reverse grip on her weapon...
Luke had never encountered anything like it — not in life, not in any records he'd found. And he possessed the Jedi library from the Order's academy ship that crashed on Dathomir. But there wasn't even half a word about anything like this.
So the young Jedi switched to conserving his energy, relying more on the Force than on strength.
"Almost good, little Jedi, almost," the Togruta muttered without malice. "Quick learner."
Luke sensed a threat from the left.
His blade went down in an arc.
And only at the very last moment did he decipher the maneuver, ducked, and leaped sideways.
Backing away from the advancing Togruta, he barely dodged a strike. Still advancing, Ahsoka Tano swung her blade again, and again the Jedi dodged.
Then he switched to a counterattack.
He alternated quick strikes with powerful ones, hoping to catch the opponent off guard, to keep her from setting up the right defense.
But it proved impossible.
Ahsoka Tano kept increasing the pressure. The Jedi Knight needed all his skill and strength just to defend himself and avoid getting hurt. There was no question of attacking himself.
The opponent slashed again from top to bottom; the Jedi parried, locking both weapons above, but at the very last moment the Togruta brought her short blade into the strike.
The tip of the blade scraped the Jedi across the stomach, cutting through his simple suit and leaving a black burn on his skin.
Twisting from the pain, Luke felt that his skin and several millimeters of abdominal muscle had been damaged. He stepped back, instinctively pressing his free hand to the wound.
Without giving him a moment's respite, the Togruta charged again.
Another complex lunge followed. This time the short blade caught Luke on the cheek, leaving yet another ugly mark.
Luke realized he was hopelessly losing.
The Force and his strength allowed him to successfully oppose one blade, but both at once...
He simply didn't have enough practice splitting his attention for that.
The Jedi Knight broke the distance again, pushing off the floor and executing a backflip a good ten meters away.
The moment he was on his feet, he had to parry the short blade thrown at him.
Which was meant to cut his legs off below the knees.
Calling on the Force for help, the young man timed it perfectly, let the weapon pass by, arching backward, and with one precise strike split the hilt into two unequal parts.
Straightening up, he was forced to dive sideways in a roll...
Only to end up catching a boot to the face.
From the red-haired beauty.
"What did I do to you?!" Luke gasped, retreating.
"I have a persistent antipathy toward your surname," she said with a smile, launching into an attack.
This opponent was much weaker than the Togruta.
Luke could see her training, her knowledge of basics, and even a few techniques unknown to him, yet he blocked all her attempts without visible effort and, in turn, landed a blow on the girl.
She parried it with surprising ease.
Then Luke felt like he'd been hit by an airspeeder.
The man flew across the entire hall but managed to tuck in midair and avoid hitting the wall — a collision that could have damaged his skeleton.
With a crack, cracks spread across the entire wall from the point of impact of the Force-shielded man.
"Not bad," the Togruta said, cutting off his retreat to the left.
"I've always dreamed of pinning a Skywalker to the wall," the redhead declared.
"What is it with you people and my surname?" Luke said ruefully.
He chose the redhead as his attack target, as the less capable one.
He charged at the girl, blade extended.
Her blade easily parried his strike, after which she unexpectedly spun on her axis and kicked him in the back, sending the Jedi toward the Togruta.
Luke stumbled and rolled across the floor.
The Togruta pressed the attack, and while the Jedi tried to crawl away and get to his feet, her blade left a long gash across his right thigh.
Crying out in pain, the Jedi rolled over, stood up, and limped backward from Ahsoka Tano, stepping carefully on his wounded leg.
He held his lightsaber out in front of him, while simultaneously reaching out to the Force, channeling it to heal his wound.
"Come on, little Skywalker," he heard the red-haired woman's voice. "Clench your Jedi values into a fist. Now's the perfect time to show some strength of spirit. You still have a chance."
The Togruta attacked in silence.
Luke shifted his weight to his left leg, hopping toward that huge crack in the wall.
He parried the feints Ahsoka Tano was raining down on him with astonishing frequency.
Is she not a droid?! How is it even possible to move at that speed?!
Luke realized he was starting to run out of breath.
His wounds ached.
His breathing was starting to falter.
The Force dulled the pain in his injured leg, but his left leg was already at the limit of muscular endurance.
During another counter-lunge, Luke simply lost his balance.
"Get up and fight, you wimp," the Togruta commanded, keeping a few meters away from him. "Your daddy's probably spinning in the Force like a turbine blade, watching his son wallow in the mud like a drunk Gamorrean."
Skywalker exerted every effort to get up, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up with his hands.
The Jedi drew his knees under him to stand...
The Togruta's lightsaber whizzed past his face with its characteristic hum, and the next moment, the emitter of his weapon separated from his paralyzed artificial limb.
Then a boot slammed into his diaphragm, sending him to the floor.
Another blow hit his kidneys.
Then his back.
His face.
His lips burst like overripe berries.
The next strike knocked sparks from his eyes.
His lower jaw broke with a distinct crunch.
"Stop," came the redhead's voice. "He's not worth it. Let's take him to Thrawn along with the artifacts. The only Jedi of the New Republic will make a fine addition to the exchange fund collection."
"I don't care about the exchange," the Togruta said angrily. "This bloodline deserves to have a lightsaber rammed through its head and end the horror his father started."
"Killing Skywalker won't solve anything," the redhead noted. "He has a sister. And two nephews — all of them sensitive to the Force."
"They even bred!" a new blow to the face was blocked by the human woman's boot.
Luke spat blood on the floor, rolled onto his back, and gazed helplessly at the arguing women who had given him such a thrashing as he had never experienced in his life.
Everything hurt.
Even the tips of his hair and his nail beds.
"Cool down, Ahsoka," the fiery-haired girl said, not even looking in Luke's direction. "Eymand wouldn't have wanted this. He tried to avoid bloodshed. He sacrificed himself so we could take the knowledge, not kill this overgrown fool."
With a roar worthy of a rancor, the Togruta extinguished her lightsaber and walked away.
"You can drag him yourself," she said without looking back.
"As if," the redhead snorted, finally looking down at the crushed Jedi. "Get up, wimp. Time to go."
"Thank you," Luke rasped. "I won't forget your mercy..."
The woman looked at him, then after her partner.
"Jedi usually have short memories," she said, clenching her right hand into a fist. "Here, take this, so you'll remember for sure."
When her extraordinarily hard fist connected with the young man's face, Luke sank into a long-awaited oblivion.