To say that Jehan was surprised to see the premises that his loyal comrade, Alessi Suon, had chosen for a hideout, would be to say nothing at all.
If it weren't for the exhaustion from what he had been through, the pain all over his body, and the moral emptiness that had replaced the excitement of breaking through the blockade at the Jedi Temple, the Dominion agent would have been able to fully and in appropriate terms express his feelings.
As it was, he just collapsed into a corner while the other members of the combat group looked around.
Afar frowned discontentedly.
The agents silently evaluated the space, looking for weaknesses in the defense of this place, assessing the degree of threat that could come from the local inhabitants of the shelter...
Of whom there were quite a few — at least several dozen.
And Jehan didn't like that either.
Their group was not supposed to run into the locals under any circumstances, staying in the shadows and not risking exposure.
Now, though...
Everything had gone to bantha poodoo.
What happened at the Jedi Temple had burned the Pentastar Alignment so badly that they shipped a huge number of new troops and scout droids to the planet.
The latter's nonstop patrols led to bloody raids by the former, the moment the soulless scouts discovered any hideout with sentients in it.
They'd had to abandon two "safe houses" already, retreating deeper and deeper beneath the surface of the residential levels.
Which made the thought of a quick escape nothing more than an impossible dream for every last one of the Dominion personnel.
They were just tired.
Exhausted.
Drained.
On a regular basis the fighters had to engage in firefights with infantry and stormtroopers to draw them away from the latest hideout, giving the main group and their "loot" time to evacuate to another location.
Essentially, while they held one position, a Dominion agent squad sent out a reconnaissance team under one of the senior agents — Jahan himself, or Afar, or Alessi — to find the next spot.
And right now he really wanted to see the Sluissi's face and ask: "What the Hutta were you thinking, bringing the group to a hideout that was already occupied?"
That kind of space could be on any planet — just not on Coruscant.
It gave the impression of being underground.
But neither Afar nor Jahan bought that impression.
And they were right.
The ceiling arched overhead into a dome, wet stalactite icicles completing the picture organically.
Only the numerous rust patches and rivets shattered the illusion of a mossy underground cavern.
Along with the giant pile of fresh (and not-so-fresh) trash in the middle of the artificial cave.
Though the pile was fairly neat and clearly meant for recycling — over in the far corner an appliance for that sort of eco-friendly operation stood grumbling and snorting.
To judge by its appearance, the mechanism could be a couple thousand years old.
It had probably seen better days.
But Jahan knew full well that on the Lower Levels of Coruscant, nobody cared about ecology.
At any other moment, this trash would have long since been scattered across the grimy streets of the capital planet's undercity.
And it would have given away the location of a group of sentients hiding from Pentastar Alignment troops to the scout droids.
If only he could figure out what kind of refugee group this was.
But since Alessi had led them here, blazing a trail through the maze of passages, tunnels, and corridors that had brought them down to the lower levels of the city, things couldn't be as bad as they seemed at first glance.
The general look of this Lower Level district suggested the place was old, long abandoned, and built decidedly not by a construction droid but by hand and primitive construction equipment.
Which meant they were VERY deep beneath the surface of Coruscant.
There was a chance the enemy wouldn't get in here as fast as last time.
Not that the Pentastar Alignment had any way to track them, or that the Dominion personnel had made mistakes covering their tracks.
No.
It was simply that the enemy had a lot of equipment for hunting saboteurs.
And they used it with maniacal persistence.
Wiping out every sentient they found.
Pure terror.
Jahan was recovering his strength, waiting for Alessi to return from meeting with the local leader, having negotiated the terms for the entire squad to stay in the camp long-term.
And he had the opportunity to study the hideout quite closely and thoroughly.
Aside from the trash pile, he noticed that the room near the surface was divided by flimsy partitions into small cubbies where refugees of every possible species and age were crammed.
The walls were built from sheets of duraplast, transparisteel, ferrocrete blocks, and where the owners had been unlucky in their search for materials, the role of partition was played by old tattered rags.
With the arrival of an armed squad, the locals kept throwing them discontented and wary glances.
Jahan could see eyes watching them from every nook and cranny, trying to guess who they were and what they were doing here.
Nearby, two Twi'leks and a Rodian had stopped.
About seven more sentients were "strolling" nearby, pretending to be interested in the local sights.
Cross identified unerringly that each of them was armed.
But if it came to a firefight, he'd bet his entire salary that the Dominion personnel would come out on top.
"They're coming," Afar said quietly, nodding toward the shacks.
Jahan looked in that direction.
A strange procession.
Three sentients total, of whom he only knew Suona.
But the two men — an old man and a youth — were approaching him with weary, thoughtful faces.
One look at them made him uneasy.
A tall, no longer young dark-skinned man, his face grizzled with gray, dressed in dirty-gray but still sturdy worn clothing, topped with a battered cloak bearing traces of carefully applied patches.
Which made it look like the man was wearing some kind of homemade camouflage.
The youth walking to his left was dressed in roughly similar clothes, but better quality and without the marks of long wandering.
Jahan rose slowly from his spot, walking toward the procession.
Every bit of his experience, all his knowledge told him that these two "thoughtful" types were not as simple as they seemed.
Something in their stride, especially the older man's, suggested military bearing.
Straight back, long strides, gaze slightly lowered.
But the old man radiated an aura of authority and unshakable conviction in his actions.
"Jahan," the Sluissi addressed Cross. "This is the leader of the settlement we're in."
Well, that was obvious.
But it didn't make things any less alarming.
"Hello," the agent extended his hand. "Jahan."
The man took his hand in return, gripping his fingers with a cybernetic prosthetic on his right hand.
Judging by the fact that he nearly crushed the agent's palm, either the prosthetic wasn't functioning very well, or the old man intended to show immediately who was in charge and whose tune they'd be dancing to.
"And this," the Sluissi indicated the youth, "is his assistant, Ja—"
"You came from the surface," the old man cut Suona off. "Running from the Imperials. Right?"
Definitely an old man.
He looked at least eighty, maybe older.
The end of human maturity had long passed, but on this particular sentient, biological processes seemed to have given up.
If not for the gray hair and age spots on his bald head, you might give him fifty at most — and even that would be generous.
The way he moved, carried himself, unhesitatingly violated ethical protocols — all of it pointed to an authoritarian nature.
The old man was clearly not simple.
And his face looked familiar…
But Jahan was too tired to remember.
He had definitely seen this old man in early childhood.
And not on the street — he'd been on the HoloNet.
He needed to keep his guard up.
"That's right," Jahan confirmed.
"Why?" the old man continued his interrogation.
"We broke into Coruscant's information network, made the computers in the Imperial Palace work for us, sent a signal to every Jedi in the galaxy, blew up the Jedi Temple, wiped out several battalions of stormtroopers and infantry from the Pentastar Alignment, blew up several of their strongpoints, barracks, and arsenals, ground plenty of armored vehicles into scrap, staged sabotage, looted the safe houses and caches of Imperial Intelligence and other special services…"
Not the best advertisement.
"We have a difference of opinion," Jahan summarized. "They chase us, we run. Nothing illegal…"
"I don't like lies," the older man's brows drew together. "You've done them serious harm. And now you've come here, into our home. My home. Armed," he nodded toward the agents. "In armor. With backpacks full of who knows what. You smell of tibanna and explosives. And after all that, you want to tell me the Imperials are 'just chasing' you?"
Alessi, stunned by this, looked helplessly between his friends and the two men.
The youth didn't participate in the conversation, but his face — prematurely grim for his age — showed he wasn't thrilled with this company either.
"Sorry for the disturbance," Afar said hastily. "If we're not welcome here, we'll leave…"
"You're not going anywhere," the old man said, giving the senior agents a heavy look and shaking his head with something like disappointment. "We don't refuse help to those in need. Throwing you out of the shelter now would mean condemning you to become victims of the Empire. You'll be shown to your spots. You can rest for a couple of days. After that — you leave. You bring nothing but death and destruction."
"Fantastic," the Zygerrian said gloomily, looking at his comrades with a sad smirk. "They saw right through us at a single glance."
"Not everyone can be fooled," the old man said, pointing the finger of his artificial hand toward the agents waiting patiently for orders. "Your clones give you away to anyone who can recognize them."
That's why they wear armor…
The thought burned like a plasma torch.
Jahan, along with Afar, instantly took several steps back, drew their weapons, and aimed at the strange pair.
The youth reached his right hand under his cloak, but the old man stopped the motion with his good hand.
"It's not that easy to identify our soldiers," Jahan declared, aiming straight at the old man's chest. "Especially if you've never seen them without armor. Sorry, old-timer, but I don't believe for a second that you could have seen the bodies of fallen agents before their cremation."
"No human can recognize clones without seeing their faces," Afar echoed, aiming at the youth.
The armed sentients in the shelter likewise drew their weapons, training them on the Dominion personnel.
The clone agents didn't stay out of it either.
And now several dozen people were aiming blasters at each other.
One wrong move — and a massacre would begin.
"Are they enemies, teacher?" the youth asked, looking at the old man. "Imperial cleanup squads?"
He kept his hand under his cloak.
"No," the old man said reluctantly. "Military, but not Imperials. They mean us no harm. But they don't like being exposed either."
"Don't test my patience, old man," Jahan advised. "Order your people to put down their weapons and stand back. We'll pack up and leave…"
"No one wants gunfire and pointless deaths," Afar supported. "If you keep quiet about what happened, we'll part peacefully."
"Peace?" the old man laughed hollowly. "The galaxy is burning, spy. And we're at the epicenter of this hurricane. Peace will never come. Only brief lulls between bloodshed."
"Jahan," Afar called to his partner quietly. "Don't these florid speeches of a madman remind you of anyone?"
Cross would have laughed if the situation weren't so idiotic.
"I'd say it's a new page from the epics of our late big-headed friend… And I have some nagging doubts, you know."
"Should we just ask straight out?"
The wrinkles on the old man's face smoothed out.
And his gaze turned even sharper.
Then came the question Jahan least wanted to hear from Coruscant's inhabitants.
"You're from the Dominion?"
"A… Oh?" Alessi forced out.
"Did someone forget to remove a sticker from an equipment container?" Afar joked. "Or this old man isn't so simple…"
"Not so simple," the settlement leader confirmed. "So you're Bre'ano's helpers… Well. Expected — he couldn't have done it himself. Now I understand why the Imperials are looking for you. You're the ones who gave them nightmares on the Upper Levels of Coruscant?"
"We are," Jahan didn't deny it. "And we'd prefer no one found out about it… I think you understand we don't get along with the Empire. And apparently, neither do you…"
The youth relaxed, exhaling with relief.
The old man, even if he didn't change outwardly, seemed to warm up somehow.
At least his voice was no longer so grumpy.
"Indeed," he said peaceably. "You can lower your weapons — there's no one here who wishes you harm, Dominion."
"I wouldn't say that," Cross wasn't in a hurry to relax. "Your boy's hand is still on his blaster."
The old man shook his head.
"That's not a blaster," he replied. "We don't use them."
"Then have him slowly take his hand out," Jahan ordered. "And put whatever he's holding on the floor."
The old man nodded silently, and the youth complied.
The agents watched as the young man placed a cylindrical object in front of him…
Alessi whistled.
"You've got to be kidding," Afar said.
"A lightsaber!" Jahan stated, not taking his eyes off the temple guard's weapon. "Uh… Are you Jedi?"
"This is my student," the old man introduced, indicating the youth with his prosthetic. "Jaden Korr."
"Pleasure to meet you," the other replied quietly.
"And you…?" the Zygerrian shifted his gaze to the settlement leader. "Who are you, sir?"
The old man winced painfully, as if remembering his own name hurt.
And he did it in that characteristic way…
The way he'd done it dozens of times during his HoloNet broadcasts of Senate speeches.
Jahan felt cold sweat break out on him.
He remembered where he'd seen that face.
"No way," he thought. "No such coincidence exists!"
But reality was merciless.
His hands lowered the blaster rifle on their own.
The other Dominion personnel followed suit.
"It seems," Cross met the dark-skinned old man's gaze, "you've recognized me, agent."
"The Emperor's black bones," Jahan breathed. "May I eat nothing but rations for the rest of my life! You're not just a Jedi! You're one of the ones who nearly killed the Emperor!"
"That can't be," Afar gasped.
He seemed to have figured it out too.
The old man was silent, as if he disliked hearing what the Dominion personnel said about him.
"Could we get an explanation for those who aren't up to speed?" Alessi clarified. "I'm a hard sciences specialist, not a Jedi sorcery expert. Who is this?"
The old man clearly wasn't in a hurry to identify himself.
So Jahan took the liberty of introducing the leader of the secret hideout on the Lower Levels.
"Gentlemen, before us stands Jedi Master Mace Windu."