Ten years, two months, and fourteen days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fifth year, second month, and fourteenth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Eight months and thirty-four days since the Arrival.)
Reynar stood, his back braced against the doorframe.
His eyes were closed, his face calm.
But this serenity was only apparent.
Inside the former Inquisitor, a flame raged.
Fury and hatred flowed through his veins, burning away the meager remnants of the Dathomirian magic he had been subjected to while fighting his opponent.
He sensed the approach of an icy calm and controlled directness, drawing close to the prison block.
And also two more minds — cold, focused.
A human one, and one clearly belonging to an alien, whose emotions were difficult to read.
And then — it became impossible altogether.
Because there — was only cold.
Opening his eyes, he looked straight ahead, focusing his vision.
"What's the matter, little Jedi?" came a caustic voice from behind the energy barrier. "Is Dathomirian magic too strong for you?"
"Not in your rendition, witch," Obscuro cut off, showing the shrunken scar on his forearm.
It had been inflicted not by the lightsabers this incompetent wielded, but by a bone dagger.
Saturated with the magic of the Night Sisters.
The door to the prison block slid into the bulkhead recess with a hiss, admitting two beings.
A step behind them walked a man in Imperial uniform and a grey-skinned Noghri, his black eyes darting around.
From the chill that washed over him, Obscuro understood everything, spotting a small cage with an ysalamiri set behind the door outside the block.
Apparently the Grand Admiral didn't want anyone using the Force in his presence.
Vex, glancing at the Dathomirian who had caused her no small amount of trouble and marred her face, only sniffed haughtily, standing beside Reynar and allowing the one she was escorting to approach the cell.
Grand Admiral Thrawn was silent, but from the barely perceptible movements of his head, it was clear he was studying the detainee the same way he studied works of art — insinuatingly and thoroughly.
His adjutant and bodyguard respectfully remained behind, not interfering with Thrawn's examination of the oddity discovered on Cartao.
The latter returned his gaze, brazenly fixing her stare on the Supreme Commander of the Dominion.
"An interesting specimen," the Grand Admiral said after a couple of minutes of mutual staring, looking at Reynar. "A fallen Jedi serving the Zann Consortium?"
The prisoner snorted arrogantly, gracing those present with a crooked smile.
No one cared about her posturing, however.
Least of all Thrawn.
"No, sir," Obscuro replied. "At first I thought the same. I even thought I identified her as Maris Brood — a Padawan of the Jedi Order, former student of Master Shaak Ti." A flicker of interest crossed the prisoner's face. For only a moment, however.
"When you reported that you had captured a Zabrak, I thought the same," the Grand Admiral said.
"This is not Maris Brood," Reynar replied. "I was mistaken in my assessment."
"But the traits of the Zabrak race are present in her," the Grand Admiral noted, casting a glance at the prisoner. "Though she covers them with her hair. However, we cannot fail to note the significant influence of human features on her appearance."
The prisoner, snorting smugly, adjusted her pulled-back hair so that the tiny horns adorning her head were less noticeable.
"She is a Dathomirian," Reynar explained.
Judging by the fact that the prisoner froze, giving him a look full of hatred and suspicion, his assumption was fully justified.
The Grand Admiral looked at him with interest.
"Explain," he demanded.
"Dathomir was an isolated world for a long time," the former Inquisitor readily began articulating his conjectures. "The planet was predominantly populated by humans, divided into clans. Among them existed the Night Sisters clan, who were allied with a clan of male Zabrak, the Night Brothers. From the union of the clans, half-breed children, hybrids, were born. Strong, trained in the use of the Dark Side of the Force, but with a Dathomirian bent. They call it 'magic,' but in fact all their passes, incantations, and other such nonsense are nothing more than a peculiar way of understanding and using the Force. I realized my mistake only after the report of her capture — when I felt that the wound she inflicted on me," he showed the healing wound on his forearm, "was behaving not as it should. Meditation allowed me to understand that the Dark Side of the Force was involved here. But since this half-trained incompetent doesn't even come close to a Sith Lord, even with the most optimistic view, I correlated the other evidence and arrived at this conclusion. I didn't report it additionally, since we were bringing her to you anyway."
"Well, now it's clear," Thrawn nodded, looking at the prisoner. "And who are you, my lady?"
"Power and your fear, all in one," she said with arrogance, gracing the Grand Admiral with a look of hollow superiority.
"Indeed?" Thrawn clarified, glancing at his adjutant. "I'm sure you are mistaken, young lady."
Major Tierce, standing by the control panel, pressed several buttons.
Electrical discharges shot from all eight corners of the cell, striking the hybrid woman, forcing her to scream in agony.
The electric shock lasted only five seconds, but Reynar felt Vex become extremely uncomfortable.
The other beings didn't even flinch.
Except maybe the half-breed, left alone by the physical force, took a few seconds to catch her breath.
After that, she glared at Thrawn from under her brow, clenching her hands in an intricate pass.
"Now you die," she promised, thrusting her hands forward.
But nothing happened.
"Any problems?" the Grand Admiral inquired politely of the bewildered prisoner.
"What's happening?" She repeated her gesture, but again — without result.
A third attempt also led to nothing.
"What have you done to me, you vile worms?!" she shouted, striking the energy shield separating her from the prison corridor helplessly.
"Note, Watcher Obscuro, our guest does not understand how we deprived her of access to the Force," Thrawn commented.
"And that angers her and makes her vulnerable," Reynar supported. "She has obviously never encountered this effect before."
"From which we can conclude that she was recruited not so long ago," Thrawn continued, examining the disconcerted woman with curiosity. "Don't be shy, my lady. Try again."
The half-breed snarled, lunging at Thrawn, but was stopped once again by the energy barrier.
"I'll rip out your intestines and strangle you all with them!" she screamed. "And then... Aaaaaah!"
Artificial lightning filled the cell again, forcing the prisoner to scream desperately and convulse from muscle spasms.
"You have done well, Watcher Obscuro," Thrawn continued, not even turning to them. "And you too, Vex."
His partner, embarrassed by the praise, muttered something in response.
"Intelligence has already studied the cloning cylinders," the Grand Admiral said, looking Reynar directly in the eyes with his burning gaze. "They are not the latest generation, of course, but they are quite fit for further use. Thanks to the fact that Lord Binali, as a puppet of our enemies, can no longer hinder us, these cylinders will go undetected. They have already been delivered to the main cloning base, connected to the primary network, and will soon be loaded for cloning. Thanks to you, we have the capacity to produce more clones. The Dominion is in your debt."
Reynar noticed out of the corner of his eye that the prisoner, overcoming herself, had run her hands into her hair, for some reason starting to dig into one of her horns.
As it turned out — he wasn't the only one who noticed.
The former Inquisitor, with a deft movement of his right hand, covered his partner's mouth, which had opened for a question.
She, casting him an angry look, bit the inside of his palm gently.
Reynar, without changing his position, gave her a light slap on the back of the head with his left hand.
Vex pouted habitually.
"I assume she was recruited after the remnants of Warlord Zsinj's forces were destroyed over Dathomir," the Grand Admiral continued, looking at the trembling prisoner. "The New Republic mindlessly allowed the planet's inhabitants to leave if they wished. Most of the witches stayed on the planet, but not the Night Sisters. They left the planet in significant numbers. Likely — before it was taken under control by X1 and Darth Maul."
"Idiots," the prisoner hissed. "I served X1!"
Thrawn's posture didn't even change.
"You killed him," the prisoner rose on shaky legs and looked at the Grand Admiral with hatred. "If I had been there, I would have killed you and all your mongrels who..."
Another electric discharge knocked her off her feet, and the prison block again filled with cries of suffering.
"A remnant of X1's faction?" Reynar clarified, understanding that where one wasn't finished off, there were others.
Though something didn't add up.
Vengeance for a master's death wasn't a tradition common among Dark Side adherents.
Especially the Sith.
"Yes," Thrawn agreed, turning and looking at Reynar. "But it's not that simple. From your report, I understood that the late Lord Binali believed he was cooperating with Black Sun."
"That's correct," the Shadow Guard agreed. "I obtained a sample of his blood and handed it over to your adjutant. Considering the program on Smarck, I decided something like that wouldn't be superfluous."
"We already have results," the Grand Admiral confirmed. "Our medics believe he is a clone — telomeres shorter than they should be for his age."
"In other words, a fighter for the Zann Consortium?" Reynar suggested, looking at the half-breed being tormented by electricity. "After all, they are the ones playing the game under the guise of Black Sun..."
"I cannot disagree with the latter," Thrawn nodded affirmatively. "But not with the first assertion. One could even assume that this woman was sent to X1. But that is unlikely. Our Jensaarai can sense hidden intentions. As far as I know, this is a fairly common phenomenon among those capable of wielding the Force."
Reynar, after thinking, agreed.
"Given X1's experience, he could not have failed to sense something like that," Thrawn continued. "What seems most likely to me is that she, and others like her, served X1 of their own volition — among the recruited Dathomirian witches. And she was dispatched to Cartao to investigate the cloning problems that faction had."
Obscuro, after thinking, nodded.
Yes, that sounded more logical.
"And then she learned of her patron's death," Thrawn mused aloud. "I think it was after our operation on Mustafar that she obtained a new master, who found her through the Force and her Dathomirian nature."
"Consequently, we can conclude that Tyber Zann has his own Force-wielders," Vex blurted out.
Thrawn looked at the Twi'lek as if the chief engineer had heard a brilliant idea from a plumber.
Vex hastened to look away.
"I don't think it's that simple," the Grand Admiral pronounced, stroking his chin with his fingers. "Major Tierce, could you please cease supplying electricity for a time?"
"Yes, sir," the adjutant clipped, and the artificial lightning stopped tormenting the half-breed's body.
She, steaming from evaporated fluid in her body, barely moved on the floor, twitching and drooling.
"After X1's death, you were recruited by one of your countrywomen, were you not?" Almost sympathy was heard in the Grand Admiral's voice.
"I will say nothing," she forced out after several attempts, trying to push herself up on her arms.
But she slumped, hitting her head on the floor.
"In that case, Major Tierce will continue testing your resistance to electric current," the Grand Admiral offered a small portion of insider information. "I think you should still talk. You are our prisoner; you will have no access to the Force. And we can torture you for a long time — the electricity is free, and my adjutant has the whole evening free."
"Bastards..." the woman whispered.
"As far as I know, every person present in this cell is a legitimate child of their parents," the Grand Admiral countered. "Do not force us to resort to harsher interrogation methods. Simply answering the questions asked will suffice. Hoping for rescue is foolish. You were used to lure out my agents — sooner or later. But no one will come to save you anyway — because they won't find you."
"You're wrong," on trembling arms, the woman managed to lift herself from the metal floor.
She managed to sit up and now looked with an embittered glare at the leader of her captors.
"I will find a way to escape from here," she promised.
"Highly unlikely," Thrawn replied. "This cell was designed specifically to hold a Force-wielder. And you are not the strongest of their representatives. All your power is cut off from you. And it will remain so from now on. In the three days since your capture, no one has come to Cartao to find you. From which I conclude that this was exactly how it was planned from the beginning. Without all this trumpery — you were supposed to surrender to Dominion agents. And you were supposed to meet with the leadership of those very agents. Therefore, I suggest we leave aside all this pretense of pomposity and loud words, and begin our conversation with you introducing yourself. My name, as I understand it, is known to you."
The prisoner made a grimace, but, looking at Tierce, who demonstratively cracked his knuckles, she flinched, obviously imagining what awaited her if she refused further cooperation.
"Fine," she croaked, looking at the Grand Admiral with hatred. "We will talk. You and me — alone."
"Do me the honor," the Grand Admiral asked her. "Dismiss the thought that you will succeed in settling scores with me if we are left alone."
The woman looked at the Grand Admiral with a look of uncontrollable hatred.
But then, shifting her gaze aside, she looked at Major Tierce, Reynar, and Vex in turn (at the latter — with particular hostility), after which she nodded affirmatively.
Her animosity towards the Twi'lek was understandable — while Reynar was playfully parrying the half-breed's attacks, Vex had shot her with a stunner and sent her into oblivion.
Then came the sleeping pills, manacles, and delivery straight to the Grand Admiral's flagship.
"As you say, Grand Admiral," she said with poorly concealed hostility. "But one day I will kill you anyway."
Thrawn shrugged his shoulders.
"Many would wish to see my death," he admitted. "But so far, they have only managed to end up in my traps."
* * *
After my bodyguards left, positioning themselves outside the door, and Reynar and his partner departed for the hangar to leave the Chimera and head for a new target, I placed a simple metal chair a meter from the energy barrier.
Sitting down on it, I crossed my legs, folding my hands on them so the prisoner could not see their contents.
The half-breed herself, somehow settling opposite me directly on the floor in a lotus position — known to Force-sensitive adepts of this galaxy as a "meditation pose" winced, touching her little horns on her head, and then, clearly satisfied with the result, pronounced:
"My name is Magash Drashi," she introduced herself. "Your pet Jedi said correctly — I am from Dathomir. But not a Night Sister."
Magash Drashi.
"And which clan are you from?" I inquired.
"The Singing Mountain clan," the half-breed woman explained, twitching occasionally as residual effects of the electric shocks tormented her muscle structure.
I nodded, understanding what she was talking about.
"That is the very clan from which the Night Sisters emerged," I said unhurriedly. "The daughter of the clan leader was exiled along with a number of other witches and founded a new clan."
"You are quite well-informed," she grinned.
"Dathomir is part of the Dominion," I said. "And the history of this world is quite interesting. Especially considering the fact that you trace your origins from criminals and Jedi."
"You speak as if that's something bad," the woman snorted, turning away as if embarrassed.
But it did not escape me that her eyes darted to the front corners of the prison cell.
"I do not condemn, but I do not approve either," I said. "After all, the purpose of this meeting is not to dig through the history of your people. I want to know what you were sent to meet with me for."
"Not specifically with you," she said. "With the leadership of the Dominion. It was assumed it would be Vice Admiral Pellaeon. And you, it turns out, are alive... Which is quite unusual, I must admit."
"Perhaps," I agreed. "So, let us get to the details."
"Yes, of course. My leadership was closely watching your actions even before I joined them. And not so long ago, they decided that the Dominion could help us."
"You were recruited after the death of X1?" I clarified.
"You guessed correctly," the woman grimaced. "He couldn't manage to clone Wookiees and Force-wielders. He thought there were some secrets hidden from him. And he sent me to Cartao to find out about the nature of the cloning cylinders — they were assembled from remnants of the Spaarti Creations' output."
"And on the planet, while gathering information, you discovered that the Binali family was under the control of Black Sun," I continued.
"That's right," she said reluctantly. "While I was thinking about the best way to get the information, I felt X1's death. And then my new employers came to me and offered to work for them in exchange for..."
"Knowledge of the Force," I said.
"If you know everything, why are you asking me?" the woman snorted.
"I'm only demonstrating that I understand your logic," I said in a neutral tone, utterly matter-of-fact.
"I was given help and I infiltrated Binali's inner circle as an agent of Black Sun," the woman continued. "And to be honest, I don't see how that helps our negotiations."
"It helps, without a doubt," I replied. "Continue."
"Well, that's about it," she spread her hands. "I was keeping an eye on the planet, waiting for your agents. When they arrived, I sensed a distortion in the Force. And I followed them. From how they both behaved, I realized these were some very strange Imperials. They were interested in the Spaarti Creations, but they were gathering the information pretty slowly. And carefully, without drawing attention. I wouldn't have noticed them if your Jedi had known how to mask himself in the Force."
"The way you did, when you realized a Force adept had landed on the planet," I said.
"Yes," she replied. "I needed time to figure out he was the one I was looking for. I had to work hard to identify the true owner of his ship. When I realized it was a pirate who'd gone missing near the Dominion border, one who'd served Black Sun, I knew I was dealing with your agents. That was, after all, why I'd been left on the planet."
"Then you arranged the meeting between Lord Binali and my agents," I continued.
"Yes, I arranged it," the woman said irritably. "And I got rid of that Black Sun puppet in the process."
"And gave us eight hundred Spaarti cloning cylinders," I added, noting the crooked smile that crossed her face.
"Consider it a gift, preceding a fruitful cooperation with my employers," she said.
"Absolutely," I nodded in agreement. "Your employer wants the Dominion to help them destroy Black Sun, which is actually the Zann Consortium pretending to be them."
"And I was told Dominion leadership would need everything explained to them in words of one syllable," the human-Zabrak hybrid smirked. "It's a pleasure dealing with someone who has more brains than those thick-headed Imperials. I'm sure you'll enjoy settling old scores with Tyber Zann."
I stayed silent, letting her talk.
"You do know the Corporate Sector is under his control, right?" she clarified.
"Yes," I said calmly, indifferently.
"They're preparing for all-out war," the half-breed continued, frowning. "And they helped break the Empire apart, replacing many Moffs and warlords with clones."
"We know that too." This new answer visibly stung and even puzzled my interlocutor.
"And they're the ones who stirred up the aristocrats in the D'Astan sector." She looked at me expectantly. "Because practically all of them have been replaced with clones, commissioned by Zann."
"That information had reached me," I nodded. "I'd be interested to know where your employer got it."
"We have agents inside the Zann Consortium," the Zabrak female said, smiling triumphantly.
"That's commendable," I agreed. "So, what conditions for cooperation does your employer envision?"
"We have substantial armed forces, and we could easily assist you in a full-scale attack..."
I see.
"Let's move on to the details," I suggested.
"Of course," Magash Drashi smiled. "We have large military forces that will be ready soon."
"Not those details," I cut her off.
If I'd initially taken her for a young girl, by now I'd realized my mistake.
She was no younger than forty standard years.
Just, as they say, "very well preserved."
"Then what are you interested in?" she asked in bewilderment. "We're discussing military cooperation."
"Your past," I said. "How did you become X1's operative?"
"What does that matter?" she seemed surprised.
"I prefer to know a little more than nothing about the people I'm talking to," I said. "For example, why — when you had the opportunity to leave after the New Republic lifted Zsinj's blockade — you stayed on the planet until X1 and Darth Maul started their recruitment campaign."
"That's personal, actually," she snorted.
"That's precisely why I'm interested," I admitted. "Without trust, there'll be no agreement. I don't think you had much contact with your handlers and employers, so you don't know what's really going on. Zann is losing ground, building up his forces and pitting the Dominion against you."
"Then it's even more important to make sure we're fighting on the same side!" the Zabrak female flared up.
"That's exactly what my conversation with you is aimed at," I explained. "Getting to know each other better. Starting to trust each other. After all, your employer had the ability to do things directly, but for some reason they chose to run this particular, rather crude scheme, putting you in mortal danger."
"There was nothing dangerous about it," the Dathomirian snorted. "The Dominion recruits Force adepts. So they assured me I'd definitely be captured and brought to the leader, mistaken for a Zann Consortium agent."
A small detail that was visible in the background, but I still hadn't been a hundred percent sure.
"Makes sense," I said. "And it fits quite neatly into everything that's happening."
"Yeah, I guess," Magash Drashi said thoughtfully, now openly touching her horns. "So, what about the agreement?"
"First, I'm interested in why you decided to become a Sith's apprentice rather than a Jedi's, when Luke Skywalker visited Dathomir a couple of years back?" I asked.
"Because Jedi are weaklings and liars," the Dathomirian said, suddenly angry. "I already asked one of them to take me as an apprentice."
"And what happened?" I asked, noting the fact that a Jedi other than Luke Skywalker had appeared on Dathomir.
"Nothing came of it," she grimaced. "He accepted help. Mine and my clan sisters'. Then he left the planet. He came back and I was ready to become his student, but he did everything to prevent that from happening again. That's when I realized they're all liars."
"And you joined the Night Sisters clan?" I clarified.
"Yes," the woman bared her teeth. "X1 said he would fight the Jedi, and I gladly went under his command, as did many of my sisters. Because from the moment the New Republic set foot on our planet, they did absolutely nothing they'd promised."
"They opened a diplomatic mission," I reminded her.
"Which was so pitiful that a handful of X1's soldiers captured it," the woman snorted. "The New Republic has no strength. Neither does the Old one. Every Jedi who descended on Dathomir inevitably lost to us. X1 saw that, and that's why he called the Night Sisters to join him."
"And when he was gone, those we couldn't find found themselves a new employer," I said thoughtfully, voicing my thoughts aloud.
"The Night Sisters respect strength," Magash Drashi declared. "They have it. A lot of strength. And soon there will be even more."
I don't doubt it.
"If they're so strong, why don't they deal with the Zann Consortium on their own?" I asked.
"That I don't know," the woman stated.
"A messenger doesn't need to know unnecessary information," I nodded. "Don't you think they're just using you?"
"There's nothing shameful about being part of the realization of a great plan," the woman said proudly. "You should join us too, and together we'll crush Zann."
"Thank you for the offer, but I'll pass."
Surprise appeared on the woman's face.
"What do you mean?" she said, bewildered.
"Quite simply. Neither Zann nor your employers inspire the slightest desire in me to cooperate with them," I explained. "Both sides are corrupt and trying to solve their problems with other people's hands. Thank you for the generous offer, but a knife in the back is the last thing I need."
"Then you'll die," the woman snarled, lunging up from the floor and slamming her head against the wall.
There was a crunch of breaking bone horns...
And nothing.
Magash Drashi looked bewildered.
"I don't understand..."
So she doesn't know.
"You probably mean this," I turned my palms inward, showing her what they held. "My apologies for taking the liberty, but we are categorically opposed to anyone trying to bring transmitters and poison ampoules aboard our ships."
"Poison?" The half-breed stared at me in confusion.
"Oh, so you weren't informed," I said with a delicate smile. "You see, your superiors weren't interested in negotiations."
"They were, I was told so directly!" the woman insisted.
"It's not polite to interrupt," I said.
"Go to hell!" she snorted, casting aside the last vestiges of decorum.
"Unlike you, I always have the option to leave this cell," I stated, twirling a small device in my hands. "Quite advanced technology — a dual-channel directional transmitter. My engineers have never encountered such miniaturization before, but the design is distinctly Kaminoan. Did they perform the operation on you there, or was it a field visit?"
"I'm not telling you anything," the woman growled.
"Of course you won't," I agreed. "Allow me to enlighten you."
"Keep your lying stories to yourself," she declared, staring at the fragments of her false horns on the floor.
"I'll take your advice under advisement," I promised. "You see, you really are part of a larger plan. But not the one you were told about."
"You, bereft of the Force, can't possibly understand a grand design!" the woman said, triumph in her voice.
"Just like your leadership," I countered. "Everything they do is a pathetic imitation of Zann's operations. Nothing more. The situation with the cloning cylinders, however, is a rather interesting trap."
"It will work," the woman smiled unexpectedly. "The transmitter has a failsafe — if the false bone doesn't block the springs of the closed contact..."
"Then the data packets will go to the nearest relay," I finished. "Yes, my technicians figured that out. But it won't help you — we're in a zone where all signals are blocked."
"That's impossible!" the woman exclaimed. "I was promised..."
"They lied to you," I corrected. "You weren't sent here for negotiations at all. You were indeed prepared to meet Dominion agents. And those eight hundred fake cloning cylinders that Binali supposedly discovered — that's an excellent diversionary trap. I admit it — the copies are made perfectly. That proves your employer has seen Spaarti cloning cylinders up close. Obviously that was on Smarck before the 'organization's destruction.' And when your spies informed command that we had captured that base, this plan was born."
"You talk smoothly," the woman said with a predatory smile.
"Study the art, and you will know your enemy," I said. "Your trap didn't work. And it won't work."
"You can't suppress signals forever," she declared. "And the transmitter can't be discharged!"
"You're wrong on both counts," I countered. "The jamming field is a side effect of the type of camouflage we've been maintaining at this facility for months. And as for the impossibility of discharging it... Yes, ordinary technicians can't do it. But that's only if you don't have Kaminoan specialists on hand. I do."
Magash Drashi looked filled with rage.
"You were told you'd infiltrate the Dominion to avenge X1's destruction," I continued. "And for that, you were given copies of eight hundred cloning cylinders. But that equipment is packed with explosives, which were supposed to detonate after you activated the transmitter by breaking your false horns."
"My leadership calculated that you would somehow deprive me of the Force," the half-breed said.
"Yes, it's not a bad plan," I agreed. "Without a powerful power source, those cylinders are useless. There was no point leaving them on Cartao. And since we already had cylinders from Smarck, it would have been perfectly logical to connect them together. Then the explosion would have destroyed all the installations, leaving us without cloning capabilities."
From Magash Drashi's silence, she knew this part of the plan.
"And this capsule," I showed her a small sealed container that had been hidden in one of her horns until now, "was supposed to release a choking gas when the package was breached. I suspect — also a Kaminoan development. And most likely, it was meant to kill everyone near you the moment the capsule deformed. That's why you insisted on meeting with me alone. I think your employer knew perfectly well that I use ysalamiri — I wouldn't be surprised if they'd previously tried to 'find' me through the Force. And they told you this poison would kill me, everyone around, and the ysalamiri, allowing you to use the Force and escape."
The woman was silent, but her pursed lips were the most eloquent answer.
"So you knew that too," I nodded to myself. "Just fifty seconds from the first inhalation — and you, and everyone who breathed it in — corpses. First, dryness of the lips and oral cavity sets in. Then blood flows from the corners of the eyes, nostrils, and ears — that means the nerve endings are dying in the body and the infected person no longer feels their blood vessels bursting... Quite an inventive poison, I must say. It's supposedly a gas, but it acts in a very uncharacteristic way — suitable for covering tracks. But I doubt they told you this poison would kill you too."
"Lies!" the woman declared hotly. "It doesn't affect those who possess the Force."
"No, it doesn't," I stated, shaking the capsule, which made the half-breed gasp. "This substance, when mixed with oxygen, turns into a nerve agent of incredible concentration, killing all living things within a radius of a hundred meters. You were used to inflict damage on the Dominion, frame it as an attack by the Zann Consortium, and thus provoke us into attacking them. And this was done precisely after our agents infiltrated the branch office of Horsch & Kessel and learned that you were building military transport ships of the Lucrehulk-class. Combined with the upgraded Keldabe-class battleships and Crusader-class corvettes — an excellent combination for transport and combat operations by the army you're preparing in the eastern part of the galaxy."
Magash Drashi was stubbornly silent.
From her vacant look, she was digesting what I'd said, not believing a single word.
"As I said — you're part of a larger plan, but not the one you were told about," I said. "Your employers didn't want an alliance with the Dominion at all. They wanted revenge for the operations we conducted against them on Hypori, Shola, and Saleucami. They wanted revenge for the destruction of your advance units. And, as I also said — to commit an act of terrorism, sacrificing an inexperienced, fanatical adept who wasn't afraid to stick their head in a rancor's mouth to take down the enemy. You see, among adepts of the Dark Side of the Force, and Sith in particular — avenging your master's death is not customary. It opens up prospects for the apprentice's own path forward."
"The Night Sisters don't kill each other for politics or personal glory," the woman blurted out.
And thereby confirmed my suspicions.
Everything was clear now.
"We can test that," I shrugged.
"You'll hardly have the courage to fly to Kamino and ask the question directly," the woman smirked.
"I will be there." The promise slightly dampened her fervor. "But we can find out if I'm right or not right now."
"And how exactly?" the Zabrak female smirked.
Instead of answering, I smashed the container of liquid poison on the floor.
With a terrible hiss, the Kaminoan geneticists' development turned into a pale blue gaseous cloud that filled the prison cell of the Chimaera.
My nostrils stung with a barely perceptible smell, characteristic of the medical facilities of my past world.
"You should have thrown that into my cell," Magash Drashi smirked. "If you kill yourself, everything will go as planned."
"This screen," I pointed at the reddish curtain of the energy field separating us, "is permeable to air particles. You just breathed in the poison too, the same as me."
The Zabrak female's pupils dilated.
Her breathing quickened.
I calmly looked at the chronometer mounted on the wall of the detention block.
"Forty-five seconds." The phrase made the half-breed woman's entire body shudder noticeably.
"What do you want?" she asked. "I won't be able to believe you until the poison works."
"But you've already felt it," I noted. "And besides — this wasn't done for you."
"Then for whom?" she said, bewildered.
"For me." Setting aside the transmitter I'd extracted from her horns, I unashamedly showed the mark from the pneumatic syringe in the middle of my right forearm.
"What's that injection mark?" the woman frowned.
"Before coming to meet you, I was given an antidote," I explained, pulling my tunic sleeve back into place.
"You developed a cure for an unknown virus that fast?" the Zabrak female snorted, thinking I was playing her.
"Our scientists believe this poison has a lot in common with the viruses Imperial Intelligence used to inoculate their agents. The structure matches, but the Kaminoans turned it into a gas — to increase the number of infected. And they shortened the response time to fifty seconds — on agents, it could remain for a long time, then slowly manifest itself, killing over several weeks — just enough time for a person or any other recruited sentient to realize the futility of existence and report to their handler. Having the original formula for the poison, developing an antidote isn't that hard. Which further proves that behind the Empire's genetic and biological weapons quite often stood the very races they supposedly 'oppressed' and considered beneath their human station."
"You couldn't have made an antidote that fast," the Zabrak female shook her head, trying to convince herself of the unreality of what was happening. "It's a trick. You want to break me. I was warned you might try to recruit me somehow. I won't betray my sisters!"
"And you don't have to," I shrugged. "Your reaction has already said everything for me — my conclusions are irrefutable. And your leadership will pay for this treachery. I will find and kill every last one of them."
"That's if your vaccine works," the woman said with a nervous smile, licking her dry lips.
"Either that, or in twenty-five seconds we both die," I concluded, looking at the chronometer again. "Twenty-four..."
"You're insane!" she cried, wiping her hand under her nose. "You'll die with me!"
By the end, her exclamation had dropped to a barely audible whisper.
I silently watched as Magash Drashi examined the streaks of blood on her hand.
"So," I said slowly, "the antidote worked. You've moved to the second phase, while I haven't even felt the dryness of my lips."
"This can't be," Magash Drashi's lips trembled. "Sisters don't kill each other. I was told..."
"Maybe it's because you're not their sister?" I asked. "They are born Night Sisters, and you're from the Singing Mountain clan. To them, you're an 'outsider' someone who can be sacrificed."
The seeds of panic fell on fertile ground.
The woman looked at the chronometer in horror.
"Ten seconds," I stated mechanically.
"What do you want from me?!" the woman screamed, falling to her knees sobbing.
"Serve me." I slowly pulled the pneumatic syringe from my trouser pocket and approached the energy barrier. "Swear loyalty — as the Dathomirian witches do. Unbreakably, until the end of your days. Your life is in my hands." She looked at the pneumatic syringe in my hand. "As is the opportunity to avenge being used. As promised — soon I will be on Kamino. And I will settle scores. Do you want to be there?"
"I..."
"Only five seconds left!" I barked, simplifying the mental dilemma in her head.
"I agree!" she cried, clasping her hands in a pleading gesture. "My life is yours! Your will is law! Until the end of my days!"
Two seconds.
My elbow touches the control panel and the energy screen falls.
One second.
The pneumatic syringe pierces the half-breed's neck and with a barely audible hiss, the antidote enters her bloodstream.
Thanks to the two hearts Magash Drashi inherited from her Zabrak parent and the speed of her blood circulation, the antidote spreads through her body.
For an instant, I see her face contort in a spasm.
The half-breed grabs my hands, eyes bulging, unable to draw breath.
Blood gurgles in her throat, signaling the final phase of Kaminoan poison poisoning.
We stare into each other's eyes unblinkingly, understanding the entire unenviable nature of what's happening.
But we understand it differently.
Her body arches like a bow and a stream of hot blood spills onto my trousers and boots.
A convulsive breath and a frantic gaze, showing genuine gratitude and a promise of devotion.
Wheezing, with gasps, but she breathes.
Though she can't say a single coherent word.
"Remember this moment, Magash Drashi," I said, pulling her hands off my tunic, watching the blood spread across the deck plating of the detention block. "Today I demonstrated to you two life lessons that will be critically important for the future. First — you meant nothing to those who sent you to certain death."
"And... the second?" she rasped.
"Unlike those who called you 'sister,' I was willing to risk my life alongside yours so you could see the light and understand what real value of personnel means." She wiped her bloody mouth with her hand. "When the shock of today passes, I suggest you think about whether it might not be worth bringing your sisters from the other Dathomirian clans to their senses."
Magash Drashi did not reply.
She only bowed her head before me submissively, repeating the words of her oath of loyalty.
* * *
When I returned from the detention block to my quarters, the first one to follow me in was Tierce.
The adjutant approached my desk, placing a small case with medical markings on it.
The locks clicked dryly, and a pneumatic syringe appeared in Grodin's hands.
"The coagulant worked," he said, handing me the injector.
"As did the vaccine," I noted, administering the injection to myself.
A cool sensation spread through my body.
"You took a great risk, sir," he said.
"The chemical formula is identical," I reminded. "The medics determined that the difference is only in the reaction acceleration and the delivery method. In all likelihood, if the vaccine hadn't worked, I would have had time until its development. The coagulant delayed the second phase's effect by a month. Now there's nothing to fear."
No lies or deception — only Sleight of Hand.
I didn't inject myself with the medicine — only the coagulant, which reduced the concentration of the contagion in my blood to a level where it was not dangerous.
This is exactly how Imperial Intelligence handled its spies — to ensure they completed the mission, they would inject them with a virus, then promise the cure in exchange for carrying out the order.
Those who disobeyed — died.
Those who agreed and did what was needed — received the coagulant.
And along with it — a month's reprieve and a new assignment.
There were no guarantees the medicine would work — that's why the half-blood tested it on herself.
The poison would have killed her in fifty-five seconds if the vaccine had been ineffective.
But everything went well.
Now I can cure myself as well.
"The risk wasn't worth the hypothetical gain," the adjutant declared. "One witch is nothing."
"On the contrary, Major," I declared. "One witch who has come over to our side — that's exactly what we need. She will go to Dathomir to tell them what a threat the Night Sisters pose. And that it was the Dominion that stood up for her protection. Not all, but some of them will agree to join us. And we will get reinforcements for the Jensaarai Order. Considering what we have learned from her, as well as our future prospects for confrontation with the Sith, the New Republic, the Alliance, the Jedi, the Yuuzhan Vong — we need fighters sensitive to the Force. Even if they are witches, whom we will attach to our special commanders."
One way or another, by extracting the Dathomirian witches from their planet without resorting to violence or dictating our will, we will integrate them into Dominion society.
Sooner or later, they will give us Force-gifted offspring.
And the strategic plan to increase Force-sensitive beings in the Dominion will bear fruit.
As will the tactical one.
"What will be the orders regarding the former masters of Magash Drashi?" my adjutant inquired, packing the used syringe back into the case. A flash from the disintegrator glinted — the equipment, along with particles of my skin and blood, was destroyed.
"The incident did not lead to any irreversible consequences," I said. "But at the same time, the enemy will not get away with it. The Eastern Faction decided to take part in the Great Game, pushing us into action against Tyber Zann. Well, we, in turn, will respond to this blatant aggression."
The adjutant was silent, waiting for me to continue.
"The Dominion strikes back," I said. "Always. But most often — before it suffers harm itself. It's time to set fire to this criminal nest as well."