Nine years, nine months, and twenty days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, nine months, and twenty days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and five days since the Arrival.)
The planet Lorrd, located in the Kanz Sector, would hold a very prominent place among the other worlds of the Dominion.
This fact would have to be acknowledged, and the future strategy for containing the enemy in this sector would need partial revision.
A world covered in ice, snow, and deserts could boast something not highly valued in the Outer Territories: educational institutions.
The university in Lorrd City was revered throughout the galaxy as a great repository of academic knowledge. Located in the very heart of the city, it consisted of many different educational institutions, as well as a large student dormitory.
Numerous branches of the most diverse fields passed knowledge on to hundreds of thousands of students each semester.
What was quite surprising was that the Kanz had not always been the most peaceful place, and even now, during the cleanup period, not all pirate gangs had been eliminated.
Yet sentients from all corners of the galaxy flocked here in droves, just to get a degree that would be recognized.
A rather curious paradox.
From the height of the top floor of the tallest building in Lorrd City, everything seemed so tiny, insignificant.
But that was deceptive.
Lorrd was important to my plans.
This planet, with all its population, was a key point in the strategy for preparing for the coming war with the Yuuzhan Vong.
I looked at the capital city of the planet spread out at my feet, noting the architectural details and design choices...
It was a beautiful city, a beautiful planet with a huge population.
And a bloody history.
In the past, this world had been conquered by the Argazdan Mirialans from the neighboring Argazda system. The Lorrdians, like the other sentient races of the sector, were enslaved. The leader of Argazda turned the sector into an Argazdan Redoubt, independent from the Galactic Republic, which existed for three hundred years.
If the historical chronicles were to be believed — which a specially imported staff of clones was currently processing — the Republic tried to restore order here. But then came the Mandalorian Wars, Revan's rebellion, the machinations of the Sith Triumvirate...
I could swear that, in the current reality, the history of most worlds in the galaxy was useless.
But not in the case of Lorrd.
"Sir," Captain Pellaeon's voice rang out. "The required archive has been delivered."
"In that case, I would like to hear the history of the Slave Pits, Captain," I turned on my heel, returning my gaze to the university rector's office.
The rector himself was sitting right there.
As was the planet's governor.
Both Lorrdians exchanged glances and, at first glance, made completely unrelated gestures with their hands and fingers, incorporating facial expressions...
What they were doing was communicating.
During the period of Argazdan enslavement, the Lorrdians had developed a system of non-verbal communication that they mastered better than speech. Known as "kinetic communication," this sign language became the only way for Lorrdians to communicate during the occupation. It was how the resistance fighters coordinated their actions.
Because their former owners and masters had forbidden slaves from communicating with each other using speech, thereby reducing the chance of uprisings.
Now, the Argazdans were ashamed of their past and preferred to live in peace and harmony. But in the old days, they had drenched cities and planets in blood without even flinching.
"Your interests are very specific, Grand Admiral," the university rector declared.
"Are they now?" I clarified. "I would like to hear your point of view."
"Your people arrived on Lorrd and proposed joining the Dominion, to which we gladly agreed. You cleared the sector of pirates and maintain law and order."
"The tax system and the conscription for the defense forces are quite lenient compared to the Empire," the governor chimed in. "I could even understand it if you had bled us dry and put our population at the service of the Dominion."
"But to be interested in the history of our planet, and even to come personally to look at waffles that are almost four thousand years old," the rector and the governor exchanged glances. "Forgive us, but this is a bit beyond our understanding."
"I see," I sat down in a carved chair and took a sip of caf from a snow-white cup. "I am confident that as soon as the data I'm interested in is disclosed, you will receive satisfactory answers to your questions."
"In that case, allow me to personally access the archives," the rector said. "The chips are old and require careful handling."
Pellaeon, who had several data storage devices clutched in his hands, met my gaze and, without a word, handed them over to the rector.
"The Slave Pits of Lorrd," I stated my first point of interest.
"Why are you interested in this ancient history?" the governor grimaced.
Of course, even if it was ancient, an archival record telling how half a billion inhabitants of Lorrd met their death in those slaughterhouses wasn't something the locals were eager to have recounted.
But I was different.
"You see, esteemed Governor. Among my subordinates is one who, in his youth, earned his keep fighting in Hutt gladiator pits. I looked into the matter and found a reference to the Slave Pits of Lorrd as one of the first places of public death matches. While familiarizing myself with the sad pages of your world's history, I came across several intriguing references I would like to study and verify for accuracy. I am sure you will not deny me such a small request."
"History, of course, teaches us not to repeat its milestones," the rector declared. "But I confess, I, who hold three dozen academic degrees in various sciences, cannot imagine what is fascinating about such chronicles. We secretly joined the Dominion a month ago, and openly a week ago, but you've spent more time on our archives than on audit checks or anything similar..."
"Your archives are distinguished by their truthfulness," I reminded him. "Objective truthfulness, at that. So, either I will find what I need in them, or I won't. As for building an administrative apparatus... Counterintelligence checked everything three weeks ago. Your bureaucratic system works flawlessly and without complaint. We have no need to interfere with its functioning, as such an intervention only occurs in cases of dishonest performance of duties by officials. I must admit, the Kanz Sector pleasantly surprised me in this regard. Bureaucracy that works on its own... Yes, we don't need to teach you how to work the way we want. I would rather spend my free time studying your art and creativity."
"That could be a waste of time," the governor warned.
"Or it could be an excellent history lesson that helps me," I countered.
Realizing that arguing was futile, the rector began to initiate me into the history of the Slave Pits of Lorrd.
They were built on the orders of the Argazdan ruler. For what purpose was obvious. The masters were entertained by watching Lorrdians kill each other in the most brutal ways. Against each other, against animals, against monsters... The Roman Colosseum, in comparison, didn't even come close.
At least, I didn't recall from my ancient history course that the spectators of the Colosseum had the chance to shoot at gladiators for fun.
It only ended when the Galactic Republic and the Jedi finally intervened.
"A joint Republic and Jedi task force under the command of the Lorrdian Jedi Master Mari-Elan Nora defeated the Argazdan masters and, after a stubborn fight, returned independence to Lorrd," the rector concluded a three-hour excursion into the ancient history of his home planet. "I don't know what you're looking for here, Grand Admiral. It's just..."
"The monsters," I said simply.
The governor tensed noticeably, understanding what I was talking about.
"Forgive me, Grand Admiral, but I don't understand you," the rector stated.
"Then allow me to refresh your memory," I said. "Art is that part of the unconscious which literally conveys the experiences of sentients through music, poetry, and performances. Have you never considered that poems and plays built on legends might have a real basis?"
It seemed that now the governor also realized he hadn't understood a thing.
A pity.
I had spent an enormous amount of time cross-referencing facts.
"Is the name Pordi Zet Chatc familiar to you?" I inquired of the Lorrdians present.
"Certainly," the rector replied. "He's a famous playwright, our compatriot."
"He wrote a magnificent play," I smiled. "'Torphceris.' Do you know why it's called that?"
"That was the name of the Argazdan ruler who ordered the creation of the Slave Pits," the rector said, exchanging a glance with the governor. "It's often performed at the Performance Square."
"The play is magnificent," I declared. "Are you familiar with its plot?"
"Of course," the rector frowned.
"As am I," the governor confirmed.
"In that case," I looked at the commander of the Chimaera, "Captain Pellaeon, I will tell you the plot of this wonderful work."
Gilad's face clearly showed where he thought a summary of a play belonged.
"Yes, sir," he replied.
"The plot of this tragedy was based on legends connected to the history of the Slave Pits of Lorrd," I said. "The action takes place on Lorrd, then subjugated by the Argazdan Redoubt. By that time, three hundred years had passed since the Argazdan Mirialans had enslaved the local Lorrdians during the conquest of the Kanz Sector."
Judging by their faces, the Lorrdians had already started exchanging hidden signals, which I noted during my narrative.
Pellaeon was fighting boredom with all his might.
Rukh preferred to scan the space, and the guards couldn't have cared less about art.
"The story of Torphceris is quite engaging," I continued. "However, the play reveals a very interesting layer of his personality. He faced growing resistance to his rule over the Kanz Sector from the Galactic Republic and the Lorrdian rebels. According to legend, he made a pact with a demonic alien, a 'remanufacturer' from another galaxy, who promised to give him the ability to summon a destructive force. As part of using this 'terrible' power, Torphceris collaborated with it in organizing the construction of the Slave Pits of Lorrd using Lorrdian slaves."
"So the legends say," the governor stated, with excessive firmness.
"Yes," I agreed. "So the legends say. In them, the alien 'remanufacturer' is portrayed as a demonic antagonist, and his Argazdan accomplices as cowards ready to abandon their principles for power."
"Forgive me, but I still don't understand," the rector stated. "What's so special about one play based on ancient legends?"
"How long have you lived on Lorrd?" I asked him.
"I left my homeland in my youth and returned only a couple of years ago..."
"And the governor here has been governing the planet for over two decades," I clarified. The official paled, licking his dry lips. "And he has already guessed what I'm talking about."
The rector, frowning more than ever, looked at his colleague.
"What you're looking for was destroyed long ago," he said.
At that moment, Gilad Pellaeon fully woke from his stupor, looking at the official with interest.
"Yes, I know," a nod of affirmation from me made the governor's eyes dart nervously. "An Argazdan scientist and his Imperial assistant, an agent, became interested in this legend. And they began excavations at the Slave Pits site. Governor, would you care to fill in the gaps in my story?"
The Lorrdian looked at me from under his brow.
"Besides the Imperials, there were also agents of the Rebel Alliance," he explained. "Both factions wanted to get their hands on this ancient 'superweapon'."
"A superweapon?" the rector was astonished. "Here? On Lorrd?"
"At least, that's how the Empire and the Alliance viewed the discovered object," I continued. "During a brief confrontation at the bottom of the Pit, the warring parties encountered a monster that tried to kill them. However, the beast was killed by a thermal detonator. This allowed the opponents to escape, and also destroyed any potential superweapon that the Galactic Empire could have used against the Rebel Alliance."
"You want to resurrect this monster?" the governor asked me menacingly, even rising slightly from his chair.
"No," I stated firmly. "My intentions are to study the monster and introduce the Dominion's scientists to how exactly it was created."
"You want to replicate the monster?" the rector was stunned.
"No," I countered again. "According to my information, the monster was created using unknown technologies that could be used against the galaxy's population in the future."
"No, no, no, no, no," the governor protested. "This beast was one of a kind."
"You think so?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," the official declared. "We did everything to ensure its remains decayed as quickly as possible..."
"But you didn't have much success. Did you?" I asked.
"How do you...?" the governor was taken aback. "While the accession negotiations were going on, you flooded my planet with spies, didn't you?"
"It would be foolish to deny that fact," I stated. "When we negotiate with any planet, system, or sector, we want to know and see not just the facade, but also what's happening at the back door."
"Forgive me, but I cannot understand," the rector said. "Why do you need the remains, why study them, if you have an army and a fleet that are famous throughout the galaxy? What is so special about this beast?"
From the looks of the governor, the rector, and Pellaeon himself, I understood that the question interested everyone present.
"First and foremost, I am interested in who created it, as well as the method and technologies used in the process," I reminded them of my answer. "To understand how to fight an enemy, you need to know what it can do and how it does it."
"The enemy?" the governor grimaced. "Grand Admiral, you believed the beast was created by a visitor from another galaxy? That's just a legend."
Unfortunately, it wasn't.
"The monster in the Slave Pits of Lorrd was also considered a legend," I reminded him. "But it existed. Its creator was also flesh and blood."
"The boundaries of the galaxy cannot be crossed," the rector declared. "The gravitational anomaly makes it impossible..."
"Is that so?" I inquired.
"Yes, gravity cannot be overcome!"
"Then what was the Outbound Flight expedition counting on?" I asked.
The learned man opened his mouth to say something in response, but closed it without a word.
"I am aware that you must have data, even superficial, about who this 'remanufacturer' was and what he was doing on Lorrd," I said. "I need that data. Now."
"It's just a legend," the rector repeated dejectedly.
"In that case, I will spend an entertaining time studying local folklore," I assured him.
No other objections were found.
* * *
The layout of the Slave Pits of Lorrd resembled the design of ancient radio telescopes.
One Imperial expert once hypothesized that the pits represented a system of organic receivers or transmitters.
Functionally, these structures were used to house bio-engineered amphibious monsters that were supposed to function as a living 'superweapon.' But in reality, they efficiently reduced Lorrd's population for the amusement of the public.
"Sir," Captain Pellaeon's voice came from the tiers of the ancient arena where he sat beside me. "Do you assume that aliens from another galaxy are behind the creation of this monster?"
"I do not assume, Captain," I said, watching intently as giant construction cranes pulled enormous chunks of a body from the depths of the arena.
This animal was unknown to science.
It was hard even to call it a specific species.
Something ugly, spiky, scaly, fanged...
"Here," Pellaeon handed me a personal datapad.
"What is this, Captain?" I inquired.
"A small compilation," Pellaeon explained. "I recalled from memory who in the galaxy conducted this kind of experiment. The Arkanians, naturally. The Mandalorians also used war beasts in the past, as far as I remember... But that could be verified with the Mandalorians living in the neighboring system, what was it called..."
"Kol Atorn," I recalled without error the name of the planet in the Kanz Sector where outcasts and renegades who had fled Mandalore years ago had settled. Now it was a relatively small community of Mandalorians, quite militant and preferring seclusion. Dominion representatives were negotiating with them about joining — including as a military asset. So far without result, but there was no need for despair.
"Yes, them."
"The Mandalorians colonized Kol Atorn only a couple of thousand years ago, Captain," I noted. "The monster on Lorrd appeared much earlier."
"Then it could have been the Langhesi," Pellaeon suggested.
Hearing the familiar name, I became interested.
"The inhabitants of the planet Langhesi in the Meram Sector?" I asked.
"Well, former inhabitants," Pellaeon corrected. "About a hundred and fifty years ago or so, the Langhesi were attacked by the Cinimals, who considered Langhesi biotechnology a sacrilege against their gods. As a result, the Langhesi left their homeworld and are wandering the galaxy. They make a living by creating exotic creatures for the rich using biotechnology..."
Biotechnology.
Creation of organisms.
Galactic travel.
It might just be wishful thinking, but it sounded very much like someone from outside the galaxy.
"Inform Intelligence that I want to meet with the Langhesi," I ordered.
"Yes, sir, of course," Pellaeon faltered, seeing that I was watching the creature being unloaded again.
"You misunderstood my answer, Captain," I stated.
"Which one, sir?" the commander of the Chimaera frowned.
"You asked if I assumed that aliens from beyond the galaxy were behind the creation of this monster," I had to remind him.
"Yes, you said no..."
"My answer was 'I do not assume,'" I reminded him again.
"Yes, sir..."
"Because I am certain that it was done by aliens from beyond the galaxy." Hearing this, Gilad shook his head as if clearing away a hallucination.
"Sir, forgive me, but I don't understand..."
"Open the reconnaissance report from 'Kavil's Corsairs' on the star system MZX33291," I advised.
Gilad obeyed without complaint, delving into the reports...
"Bimmiel?" He looked at me with surprise.
"Yes, the system is also known by that name," I confirmed. "In honor of the Imperial scientist who discovered it. Read the spectral scanning data, and the aerial and ground reconnaissance reports for sectors three, seven, and fifteen."
While Gilad ran his eyes over the lines of the reports, I ran the same data through my own mind.
Bimmiel — a planet orbiting on an elliptical path around its primary star in the MZX33291 system. The fifth planet in the system, lifeless.
A group of Dominion scouts and scientists, accompanied by Darth Maul, Aurra Sing, and several regular fleet starships, had conducted a thorough and detailed survey of the planet.
And they found what they had been sent there for.
No, not the natives, who could barely be called humanoids, but the fact that they used wooden spears and tools already indicated their intelligence and potential.
The key to their search was something else entirely.
"Jedi artifacts?" Gilad looked at me in bewilderment.
"Yes, Jedi were once present on Bimmiel," I agreed.
"Sir, but how are the Jedi connected to the Lorrdian monster and the extragalactic 'remanufacturer'?"
"Item seven of the report, Captain," I clarified.
"A mummified corpse?" it seemed this was the last thing that impressed Pellaeon.
He was wrong, very wrong.
"Read the description, Captain," I advised.
"Just over two meters tall, dense gray-purple skin, black hair, multiple fractures, tattoos with incomprehensible symbols, organic implants," Pellaeon mumbled. "Sir, how did this person live? He has enough fractures for a dozen people!"
"That is not a person, Captain," I stated. "The scientists managed to reconstruct his appearance using reconstruction methods. Look at the appendices for this item of the report..."
A second later, quiet cursing was heard.
"Who the hell did him like that?"
"He did it to himself, Captain," I explained, watching as the beast's body was rolled up the ramp of an Acclamator.
"It also had black blood?" Pellaeon was astonished by the retrospective modeling and analysis data. "What kind of subspecies of human is this?"
"Read the description of the 'remanufacturer' from the play 'Torphceris' and compare it to the description from the historical chronicles of Lorrd University," I said, without taking my eyes off the loading.
"It's the same person?" Pellaeon was taken aback a few minutes later after some engaging reading.
"No, Captain," I countered. "They are different beings. They even lived at different times. But they are representatives of the same species, which originated far beyond our galaxy. In the Chiss Ascendancy, where I come from, we called them the 'Far Outsiders.' They use biotechnology, are intolerant of machines, and adore suffering — that is how they believe they honor their gods."
"Sir, this sounds like some kind of horror story," Gilad tried to joke. "When I was a kid, they told me something similar about the bad Ailon people, that they would come and punish me if I didn't eat my porridge in the morning..."
"This isn't a fairy tale, Captain," I declared. "According to historical chronicles, the 'artificer' who created the monster on Lorrd appeared about four thousand years ago. The corpse discovered on Bimmiel had been lying there for just over a hundred years. And someone mummified it, buried it."
"So there are more like them out there somewhere," Gilad finally understood this wasn't a joke. "And... what do we do, sir?"
"First, we find the Langhesi and recruit them to work on the Far Outsiders' biological technologies," I said. "Second, we need to urgently relocate the laboratory studying pollen from the semi-sentient trees on Ithor to the metropolis — the lab space is already prepared. Third, it's time to spring a few traps and move to the final act of Crimson Dawn."
Pellaeon was silent for a while, then spoke:
"Sir, am I correct in understanding that since you've taken an interest in studying these 'Far Outsiders,' the resurrected Palpatine isn't the biggest of our headaches?"
I looked into the eyes of my flagship's commander.
"Far from the biggest, Captain. And I think it's time to discuss this problem in more detail."
* * *
This time she woke up before hyperspace became reality.
Remembering her previous failure, Ahsoka moved her legs apart. Just enough to avoid hitting the pedals.
And stretched with pleasure, simultaneously channeling the Force through herself and savoring the feeling of complete control over her body.
The unpleasant tingling from staying in the same position for too long occurred every time she used the interceptor for long hauls.
"I'll have to wrangle myself a roomier ship," the Togruta muttered, closing her eyes for a moment and reaching out to the Force.
System MZX32905 was a typical star system in the Outer Rim.
Located in the Kanz sector in quadrant N-4, this backwater point in the galaxy turned out to be not so far from the systems of Bimmiel and Lorrd, which had already come under Dominion control.
It was interesting, actually.
The Kavil's Corsairs — former pirates and brigands that the Galactic Empire hired to do its dirty work — were currently thriving, having integrated into the forces under Grand Admiral Thrawn's command.
The name, of course, remained the same.
As did the beings who served in that organization.
And they did get paid for their services, quite handsomely.
But they also worked very well.
In a short time, the Kanz sector had been cleared of a huge number of pirates and smugglers, assassins and mercenaries who had carved out dens here to wait until various authorities lost interest in them.
Ahsoka received the order to come here as soon as the Kavil's Corsairs had completed their initial sweep of the sector, sending out Spies and striking all pirate bases without exception in one fell swoop. Well, no wonder — while the Corsairs were equipped with relatively new technology, the local criminals were using relics barely a step above firearms and chemically-fueled rockets.
An exaggeration, certainly, but the difference in technological quality was stark. And it was hard to deny.
Ahsoka knew for certain that before she received the order, the Corsairs' scouts had already visited this nameless "numbered" system.
And it was they who had discovered what Thrawn had sent her for.
"Connect me with the Chimera," the Togruta demanded, opening her eyes.
The Force caught the target object, one with its own unique aura that was unmistakable. And its direction of movement exactly matched the coordinates the Corsairs had given her.
Grand Admiral Thrawn answered her call in just a couple of seconds.
Which was pretty fast, considering the Outer Rim always had major communication problems. The cheapest and lowest-quality transceivers were dumped here, causing transmission quality and exchange speed to suffer catastrophically.
So the Togruta couldn't hide her surprise when a hologram of the Grand Admiral appeared before her, completely free of any interference.
"Report, Lady Tano," the Grand Admiral addressed her.
"I've arrived in the MZX32905 system," the girl said.
"Have you located the target of your journey?" Thrawn inquired.
Ahsoka cast a glance to the side, where the Force responded to her with an ancient coldness that sent shivers down her spine.
"Yes," she replied.
"In that case — proceed," Thrawn ordered, cutting the communication from his end.
The Togruta stared at the holographic projector for a while, then couldn't help herself:
"'Proceed!'" she mimicked the blue-skinned man. "If you're so smart, you should have come here yourself."
Data appeared on the display — a translation of the astromech's reply.
"Yes, yes, yes," Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "Jedi know no fear. But, you see, bucket of bolts, I'm not a Jedi anymore."
Still, the Togruta aimed her interceptor toward the target, having first jettisoned the booster ring.
Approaching the asteroid, the girl could already distinguish it against the murky disk of the local star.
She could already make out structures on the space rock — this place was clearly inhabited.
She sensed something inside, active in the Force. Quite strong, but at the same time, not a single drop of living warmth emanated from it.
There was no life here.
But there was the Force.
A mighty Force.
Ahsoka had encountered something like this before — this was how places felt where life once teemed, but where now everything was dead.
However, there was another explanation for such radiation.
A powerful Force artifact was located here.
The Togruta had felt those sensations on Ossus.
But the woman instantly found differences and dismissed her initial assumption.
The radiation she was picking up now wasn't emanating from an artifact. The aura was stronger and, most unpleasantly, it had shades of personality.
Here was the residence of some powerful Force adept.
And now, coming in for a landing, the girl clearly understood that the inhabitant of this place was anything but a Jedi.
The Force flowing from this place was marked by the Dark Side.
She was essentially landing on a massive asteroid where ore had once been mined — there were tens of thousands, if not millions, like it across the galaxy.
But someone had gone to the trouble of building not just a temporary camp here, but a real dwelling.
"Gravity is minimal, no atmosphere, the automatic landing systems didn't trigger," Tano stated, clicking her tongue. "No, I definitely need a completely different ship."
The open maw of the hangar showed that it could accommodate a couple of fairly large passenger yachts or freighters.
From inside, Ahsoka could see a high ceiling — but she had to resort to the Force, since even the interceptor's lights couldn't pierce the darkness.
She could make out signs of neglect — even on the metal sheathing the walls.
This place hadn't been used in a very long time — decay was everywhere, and there wasn't the slightest hint that anyone had been here since the owners left and before Ahsoka arrived.
"I probably shouldn't expect anyone to help me avoid suffocating in vacuum," Tano concluded, unbuckling her harness.
The astromech reminded the Togruta that she was actually wearing a light spacesuit, and there were oxygen tanks in the cargo compartment. And that magnetic fields could be used to hold in an atmosphere...
Suddenly, the girl felt herself being noticeably pressed into the interceptor's seat.
It wasn't a new sensation — the artificial gravity system had just suddenly kicked in.
The hangar dome began to dispel the darkness — lighting panels in the walls and ceiling flickered on.
"W-e-e-e-ll," the girl drawled, instinctively grabbing her lightsaber. "Either we're being watched by someone who's successfully camouflaged, or something triggered the automatics."
The astromech reminded her that there was nothing alive here — at least, its sensors and the interceptor's systems hadn't detected anything of the sort.
"A wonderful thought just occurred to me," Ahsoka said, seeing that the hangar's atmosphere had become breathable thanks to the systems, and the doors behind the interceptor had slammed shut, cutting her off from space, she opened the cockpit canopy. "If ore was mined on this asteroid in the past, the interior might contain metal too dense for scanners to penetrate, right?"
The droid was silent.
Only a second later it beeped, stating that the probability of that existed, but it wasn't very high — more of a mathematical or physical anomaly.
"Oh, tin can, not with my luck," Ahsoka assured it, climbing out of the cockpit. "I have a bad feeling about this. If this is a mining asteroid, where's the cargo terminal?"
The astromech hummed a reply.
"No, little one, I'm afraid this hangar was built exclusively for passenger ships."
Locking the controls, the girl ordered the astromech to remain on constant standby.
The girl felt a terrible chill.
Puffs of vapor escaped her mouth, clear proof that the hangar's systems hadn't been working for a very long time.
She spotted a flexible docking arm in another part of the hangar — the kind used for ships larger than her interceptor.
She reached the exit into the habitable section fairly quickly.
The computer panel responded to a simple open command — and with a heart-rending screech, groan, and rumble, the heavy door let her into the habitable part of the complex.
Well... the technical sector.
Obviously, this door was used by technical personnel, while guests or the owners used the docking arm.
Well, in any case, she could get out of here — somewhere, these two parts had to connect: the working section and the owner's section.
In a worst-case scenario — she could always use her lightsaber to cut an extra passage between levels.
After several minutes of wandering through the technical rooms, she began to feel warmth — evidence that the heaters in the living quarters were working.
It took a few minutes to find the exit and end up in the part of the living complex that at least showed signs that this wasn't where they disassembled droids.
The interior decoration of the asteroid was striking with its light turquoise metal, similar to the material the complex's creators had used to line the hangar's interior surfaces. By Ahsoka's estimation, based on the geometry of the main corridor, it was ring-shaped and had exits both to the asteroid's interior space and to external compartments, like the hangar.
Hmm... Definitely not standard finishing.
And judging by the interior — workers clearly didn't live here.
Too neat. This could even be called designer renovation. No one in their right mind would waste time and resources creating a comfortable environment on a mine. After all, it would be gutted and abandoned — it was only useful while there was something to extract inside.
And you clearly couldn't take a residential complex with you — it wasn't a modular structure on the surface. It was a haven inside a space rock.
And a very, very comfortable one at that.
Which pointed to the wealth of its owner.
Further inspection only confirmed her assumptions.
She discovered a dozen apartments, some of them clearly meant for families.
Several banquet halls and entertainment areas.
Dozens of work offices, conference rooms, relaxation areas.
A recreation zone.
Even a swimming pool, once.
Having crawled the living level from top to bottom, Ahsoka concluded that this was one of the archaic versions of mobile command posts, once manufactured by Raith Sienar's company.
This one had probably been assembled before the creator of the TIE fighters had even been a gleam in his parents' eyes.
The technology was fairly simple.
An asteroid was chosen — the bigger, the better. This was done for the gravity. But at the same time, this space rock had to be not too far from where the miners worked — so management always had the option to fly out for an inspection and turn everything upside down on-site.
But there was a catch — Sienar developed surface-based MCPs. And here, they had clearly gone deep into the asteroid.
Either a custom order, or someone had reworked the concept after the project was realized.
The project was clearly pre-Imperial construction — you could tell from the rounded designs.
Probably even built before the Clone Wars — since Palpatine came to power as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, design projects, whatever they were — architecture, starships, stations — had begun to solidify toward right angles.
Aggressiveness and militarism.
It was just that no one understood it at the time.
Whoever had done this was clearly incredibly wealthy, having abandoned an asteroid that had had a considerable amount of money invested in it.
Judging by the Dark Side aura that permeated the entire structure, Ahsoka was beginning to suspect that a powerful Sith had lived here for a long time.
Perhaps Thrawn had sent her to one of Palpatine's secret lairs — to find and acquire the Dark Side knowledge stored here.
As he had said.
No specifics, no hints.
Use your brain, act on your own.
The question of why they hadn't sent someone like Ventress here answered itself — the Dark Side would clearly have gone to their heads.
And if there was something valuable and destructive here, it could all turn into another crisis.
After searching sector after sector, Ahsoka reached the turbolift in the central part of the complex and rode it to the upper level.
She found herself in a fairly spacious round room about twenty meters in diameter. But by design, it was clearly a hemisphere, because there was a semi-circular ceiling about the same height.
It was made by masters from thick transparisteel, allowing one to observe the starry sky while enjoying the soft tones of the local star's light.
Time had not spared the structure — here and there, breaches were visible, formed over decades by micro-asteroid impacts.
But the seal was intact.
And the station's automatics clearly had nothing to do with it — the asteroids had literally grown into the material, meaning a very long time had passed since they were trapped in the transparisteel, since the edges of the breaches had been sealed by cosmic dust, turning into a monolith.
This already extended the time the asteroid had been abandoned to several hundred years.
And Palpatine, as the probable owner of this residence, was clearly out of the running.
His teacher?
Possibly.
But it seemed more likely that if this place had been owned by anyone from Bane's line of Sith, it was the teacher of the teacher of the teacher of Sidious's teacher.
The structure was far too old.
It had definitely been abandoned for two or three hundred years.
And judging by the undiminished Dark Side aura, there was clearly some powerful artifact here...
Or else...
Ahsoka licked her dry lips.
Every time she indulged the thought that the source of the Dark Side was an artifact, she consciously pushed to the edge of her mind the simple fact that she could feel a certain sentience from the source.
It wasn't a lifeless object.
Perhaps a holocron with a Guardian — an imprint of an ancient Sith's mind.
Perhaps something from ancient Sith techniques — some terrifying experiment or monster just waiting to break free and destroy those who weren't ready to accept it as their master.
There were many theories — too many, even.
Ahsoka scanned the room with her gaze, noting a fairly large number of old manuscripts, even scrolls, and information crystals.
Every single one was ancient and non-functional.
The flimsi had decayed, the crystals were cracked, the books were so brittle it was dangerous to even approach them.
Ahsoka stood right in the middle of the hall, concentrating.
The energy of the Dark Side was clearly felt here.
But despite all its power, the girl felt that she was actually only at the bottleneck — the foundation, the source of this soul-chilling aura went far down.
Into the body of the asteroid.
Ahsoka's eyes flew open.
"This is getting cliché," she grimaced. "If you're dealing with Sith — dig as deep as you can. Where it's dark, damp, some boulder will fall on your head, and thousands of unknown traps or carnivorous parasites are hidden in the darkness."
The Togruta felt a shift in the Dark Side behind her.
Like a breeze through an open window, but it was enough for the Shadow Guard to roll aside and assume a combat stance, igniting her lightsaber.
Before her stood a figure — tall, covered from head to toe in the fabric of a cloak so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light.
Even the light panels themselves began to shine dimly.
She couldn't make out the face under the hood, but at the same time, she felt that the humanoid standing before her... was very different from the species she had dealt with in the past and present.
"Did I scare you?" it... asked.
Ahsoka still didn't understand what was in front of her, but the being in the cloak clearly wasn't distinguished by the warmth of its skin.
"You'd need to be at least alive for that," she declared. "You're a corpse."
"Perhaps," the shadow replied. "I don't know."
It took her a few seconds to think.
"I've never heard of Sith becoming Force Ghosts after death."
"Then you are foolish," declared the spirit, practically radiating the Dark Side.
"A skit for a comedy theater: a dead man talking to a fool," the Togruta said with a strained smile.
"Yes, that is an amusing production," she couldn't see the speaker's face, but it seemed as if he laughed. "You are a funny Jedi."
"Not quite a Jedi," Ahsoka admitted.
"You're too old to be a Padawan," the Ghost remarked.
"And you're nothing identifiable at all."
"Oh," the guest intoned. "Where are my manners?"
"The same place as your body?" Ahsoka suggested.
"A good joke," came the same calm male voice from behind her.
The Togruta executed a dizzying tumble to the side, avoiding a new attack, and positioned herself to keep both opponents in her field of view.
Oh, thank you, artificial gravity of this dwelling.
Otherwise, she'd have to describe pirouettes in jumps without normal traction.
Now, two stood before her.
The first was the familiar "cloak," but the second...
A tall man of the human race, clearly of solid build, with the impressive posture of a professional athlete.
Though that didn't negate a slight plumpness — evidence of reduced mobility.
Clearly not a fighter.
A matte-black beard, cut short in some old fashion trend.
Stylish, probably.
Black clothing demonstrated a traditional Sith style, and the silvery lightsaber hilt hanging from his belt was adorned with brilliant black diamond-shaped stones.
"An interesting trick," Ahsoka declared, shifting the tip of her lightsaber from one hypothetical opponent to the other. "It's some kind of projection, isn't it? Because neither of you is physically here."
"Foolish, but learns quickly," the bearded man raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The "cloak" dissolved, as if it had never existed.
Even its feeling in the Force vanished, lost in the emanations of the Dark Side.
"A Force Phantom," the man explained. "A Dark Side technique I developed personally. Just as deadly as everything I wield. An illusion indistinguishable from reality. Capable of doing whatever its master wishes. Consider this a demonstration of my neutral position toward you."
"You know, about thirty years ago, someone would have told me that making the acquaintance of the creator of a Sith technique is bad form," Ahsoka declared, spinning her lightsaber in her hand and deactivating it. "And for a Sith not to want to kill a Jedi, showing off some deadly trick from his arsenal — that's generally a rarity worthy of archival chronicles."
The man smiled.
"Judging by how scared and surprised you were, modern Sith don't know this technique, do they?"
Demonstratively hanging her weapon on her belt, the Togruta showed the Force Ghost her empty hands.
"I think you took this secret to the grave with you," Ahsoka suggested. "At least, I've never seen anything like it before."
"Did you come here to learn from me?" the Sith asked. Without waiting for her answer, he added:
"It will not be a simple process, you must understand."
The Togruta winced.
"I don't like lying, so let's be honest with each other, alright? I came here to find out what's radiating the Dark Side and, if necessary, destroy the threat."
"Oh," the Ghost nodded understandingly. "A worthy endeavor. Dark Side knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands."
Ahsoka blinked a couple of times.
"You just almost asked me to become your apprentice, and I'm hardly the ideal follower of Sith teachings."
"And yet the Dark Side has touched you," the Sith Ghost declared. "Many years ago... and quite recently."
Ahsoka, by an act of will, pushed the memories of her apprenticeship under the older Skywalker and her duel with his offspring from her mind.
"I'm not proud of it," she admitted. "The boy deserved a thrashing..."
"You did not kill him," the Sith noted. "I see in your mind that you lost friends. But you stopped."
"I was stopped," Ahsoka declared. "You Sith are always like that, poking into minds, manipulating the past."
"Is that so?" the Ghost smiled. "Forgive me, but your thoughts are an open book to me. I see what was. And I see what is to come. I know how much you detest this mission. And I understand your condemnation of the adepts of the Dark Side."
"Oh, really? But you're..."
"Yes, I am a Sith," the ghost agreed. "I was one, until I died. But my plans did not include seeking power or a thirst to subjugate others. I controlled the darkness within myself. Just as you did on Ossus."
"I told you — I was stopped..."
"How could someone who barely knows how to direct the Force stop an experienced fighter with a word?" the Ghost asked. "If you had wanted power, revenge, if you hadn't controlled yourself — you would have ended the fight the moment it began. And no one could have stopped you."
"By the laws of the genre, you should now offer me power to prove to everyone that I'm the best," Ahsoka declared sarcastically. "Sorry, that's not my thing."
"I will not offer you power to conquer others," the Force Ghost surprised her. "I will not offer you power for power's sake. I will share my knowledge, reveal the secrets of controlling the Dark Side that will help you and your comrades in the Jensaarai Order become stronger."
"This is some kind of Sith joke, right?" Ahsoka shuddered. "Sith don't share like that. What was it? 'My chains are breaking...' and all that?"
"No," the Ghost replied calmly. "Chains are always necessary. Control is always necessary. Responsibility is always necessary. Discipline is always necessary. You are a Jedi, you know this."
"You're a very strange Sith," Ahsoka declared. "You talk like you've been reading Jedi lectures... You're not one of those Jedi who fell to the Dark Side and then developed some kind of universal doctrine, are you?"
The Ghost laughed.
Quietly, without offense — just reacting to the joke.
"No, I'm a Sith. I was one in life and I'll remain one after death."
"Then something doesn't add up," Ahsoka dug in her heels. "Why would you help me master the Dark Side in some tricky way?"
"Because I'm a Sith," the Ghost shrugged. "And even though I disagree with others on certain views, some things remain constant."
"Power over the galaxy?" the Togruta suggested.
"The desire to pass my knowledge on to a student," the Ghost laughed again. "I think your master sent you to my asteroid precisely for that purpose."
"You know Thrawn too?" Ahsoka was surprised. Then, catching herself, she nodded:
"You're still in my head, aren't you?"
"I saw him in your thoughts," the dead Sith confirmed. "I heard his words, I understand his intentions. I'm certain he knew exactly who I was and what I represented when he sent you. We're somewhat alike — pragmatists who keep themselves within bounds, who don't cross the lines we've set for ourselves. But he... He's rather fascinating. Hiding from the Force, existing as a distortion within it. A rather interesting anomaly. If I were alive, I'd eagerly join him to study the effects."
Who would've doubted it, Ahsoka thought.
For now, she preferred not to think about the fact that the Grand Admiral had sent her here so that...
She would discover and master the Dark Side knowledge stored here...
"Fine, I've been used in the dark again," she admitted. "What's next?"
"Oh," the Sith Ghost raised his hands in front of him. "Don't think of it as 'being used.' You were sent here because you're clearly capable of controlling your emotions. And you won't cross acceptable boundaries. That's a rare gift — it's just that your Thrawn doesn't trust his subordinates with secrets. It's the burden of a leader, one that's always with him."
"Let's skip the lectures, alright?" Ahsoka grimaced. "I have a mission, and you've supposedly agreed to help me. Let's make a deal — if you're really that good, you'll have plenty of students after me."
"No," the Ghost's face twisted into a mask of indifference. "No other students. Only you. And you will only have one student too. One worthy of my knowledge."
"Then I feel like some ungrateful Gamorrean," Ahsoka admitted. "Like I'm just using you... Maybe that's how you Sith do things, but it doesn't sit right with me..."
"You will unquestioningly fulfill my request once your training is complete," the Ghost said.
"Oh," Ahsoka raised a finger. "That's where you should have started. What's the request? Kill all the Jedi?"
"The Jedi hold no more interest for me than the Sith or any other Force adepts," the Ghost declared. "But you're right about one thing — when your training is complete, you'll need to kill a Force adept. Just one."
"I don't like the sound of that," Ahsoka shook her head. "And who exactly?"
"Me."
"You're a Baneite," Ahsoka sighed heavily. "The student kills the master. There should only be two of them and all that..."
The Ghost remained silent, staring at her without wavering.
"Alright, let's say," Tano declared. "I kill you. But there's a problem. You said you're already dead."
"I am dead," he agreed. "You'll make sure my spirit passes into the Void."
"You're a very strange Sith," Ahsoka repeated like a mantra. "I know one who just won't die, but you're dead but not dead, yet you want to die..."
She stopped suddenly, struck by a realization.
"Wait a minute," she said slowly. "Sith can preserve their consciousness after the death of their physical body."
"You're speaking to just such a consciousness," the Ghost confirmed her words.
"And you clearly want to give me the knowledge of how to kill such an entity," Tano licked her lips impatiently.
"Well done," the Ghost smiled. "Took you a while, but you got it."
"You have no idea how much I need to know how to finish off someone like you," Ahsoka rubbed her hands together. "You've convinced me, eloquent one. Let's learn. Where do we start?"
"To begin with, by ancient Sith tradition, the teacher introduces himself to the student," the Ghost declared, straightening up so that all imperfections in his figure simply dissolved. "Ahsoka Tano, I am your teacher. Under my guidance, you will come to know the Dark Side — which you will never, under any circumstances, use to subjugate sentient beings or cause harm for your own pleasure. You will receive knowledge that many modern Sith consider lost or part of legends. I gave my life to develop a doctrine of the Dark Side that meets strict requirements of morality, discipline, and self-control."
"Pompous, but to the point," Ahsoka nodded, sitting down in a meditation pose. "Teacher, do you have a name?"
"The name my parents gave me at birth would mean nothing to you," the Force Ghost declared. "Perhaps you've heard my Sith name, the one I earned when I became a Sith Master. I am Darth Vectivus."