"Seventh hell!"
I sank into the chair with a groan. The massive piece of furniture in the Grand Moff's office in the Citadel on Christophsis creaked treacherously. Yes, it was a bit heavy for it, but no matter, it wasn't organic; it wouldn't fall apart.
As for thinking about taking off the armor at least within the depths of my residence, it was definitely worth it. What could threaten me here? Especially with such protectors.
"Tulak Hord, you mock me by making me serve this Jedi," grumbled the light-skinned Dashade in his usual manner. He, along with his kinsman, stood on either side of the main entrance to the room I had entered a moment ago after a long conversation with the Council. Honestly, I hadn't heard so many classic ideas of Marxism-Jediism before. And I wasn't sure I ever wanted to communicate with these variously alternatively gifted individuals again.
And we had plenty of topics for conversation.
"Stop whining, Khem Val," I cut off the lamentations in the Dashade language. I hadn't known it before—like many others—but self-education is a great thing.
The holocrons stolen from the Temple remained in the Citadel on Zakuul—under the protection of racially pure guards and a dozen assault corps. Even if someone wanted to snatch them, they would have to kill more than a few thousand sentients, and most importantly—overcome the protection installed in the ancient artifact vault, set up on the same principle Exar Kun once used to protect the Golden Globe on Yavin 4. I highly doubted that among the hypothetical thieves there would be an extremely gifted Light hero capable of looting the looted.
However, despite the strength and knowledge of the three Force Ghosts, the information settled in my skull seemed insufficient. Therefore, I spent every free minute studying ancient knowledge. Sources were plentiful. A small selection, mostly on combat techniques, thanks to which I had been able to progress in studying Soresu and Ataru last year, was on board the Defender. I had, as they say, sucked it dry. I had wanted to delve into a couple of holocrons I brought with me, but I found a more interesting "toy."
It seemed the Hero of Tython was well-versed not only in swinging a lightsaber and the techniques of exterminating sentients but in many other aspects as well. He hadn't bothered to create a full holocron, but in his archive on Yavin 4, he had collected literally everything he could get his hands on. Records discovered in the ruins of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Sith knowledge, Voss techniques... What wasn't there?
Speech comprehension—a sub-section of the Telepathy technique—was present in this volume of information. And considering the variety of sentients accumulating under my command, I considered mastering such a technique not unnecessary.
And now, like C-3PO, I understood practically any language. Including being able to make out that mixture of gurgling and growling the Dashade passed off as their own dialect. And I cursed everything a hundred times.
Because, unlike his red-skinned comrade, Khem Val didn't like to talk even once. Truly, he mostly complained to his long-deceased first master about the twists of his fate.
"Have some conscience—you've been babbling the same thing for days," I said reproachfully. "It's hard to think."
"Say what you will, Jedi," Khem Val growled under his breath in a low, raspy voice. "You defeated me in my moment of weakness..."
"I wiped every corner of the Yavin fortress with you," I had to remind him. "So stop whining about what a weakling you are. I'm starting to regret making you my bodyguard at all."
"...but when I regain my full strength..." his voice continued to reach me from the door.
Sighing, I closed my eyes, trying to distance myself from the surrounding world.
I needed to think a lot.
Because the situation was turning out to be extremely unpleasant.
Hardly had the show for Palpatine with that extended meeting ended, I insisted on a talk with the Council. Privately.
"Masters," it was difficult to contain my irritation. "In the current operational situation, I ask once again to postpone sending the younglings to Christophsis. It's too dangerous..."
"This decision did not come easily to me," Yoda said. "But otherwise I cannot act. Practice young Jedi need."
"After the loss of the holocrons," Windu joined in, "a difficult time has dawned for the Jedi Order. The rising generation is one of the most gifted. Therefore, the Council has decided to send the most promising groups of younglings to gain knowledge outside the Temple as well."
"The children will find themselves in a deadly trap if the Separatists manage to encircle us," Gallia noted.
"Prevent this you must," Yoda frowned. "We believe in your victory, Master Dougan. More than once you have proven that you are capable of more..."
"Is that why I wasn't invited to the meeting where it was decided that the Mousehawk Clan would fly into the thick of combat operations?" I clarified. "And in general, I don't recall the Council meeting even once since Commander Tano's exile from the Order... Or," noticing the glances between most of the Masters, I frowned, "was I not notified of them?"
"Now is not the time to discuss such trifles," Ki-Adi-Mundi stated. "The loss of Master Tiin is a great loss for the Order."
"Baron Kirvan must be brought to justice for his atrocities," Kit Fisto declared confidently.
"Master Dougan will handle this," Yoda said. "Confident in this I am..."
"Forgive me, Grand Master," I drew attention to myself. "But risking a meeting with him—is not my rule."
"What do you mean?" concern appeared in Plo Koon's voice.
"Exactly what I said," I shrugged. "I won't be overexerting myself to take him prisoner."
"You are talking about killing," Shaak Ti exclaimed. "That is... unacceptable for a Jedi!"
"Really?" I was surprised. "So, our lightsabers are for decoration?"
"A Jedi uses a weapon for defense," Obi-Wan spoke up. "Not for attack."
"And did you bisect Darth Maul while defending yourself?" I clarified.
"Exactly so," Kenobi's hologram grew serious. A truly Jedi expression on his face. But we know...
"Perhaps we should replay the holo-recording?" I suggested. "It clearly shows where half-measures led... A living and healthy Sith who should have been finished eleven years ago. Now—we are signing off on our helplessness..."
"This discussion for millennia has lasted," Yoda interrupted our bickering. "Important another question is—how to find and stop the Baron?"
"We also need to decide who will join the Council in place of Saesee Tiin," Windu grumbled.
Just like that... There was a Jedi—and there isn't a Jedi. Never mind that he was finished off like a mangy dog. It doesn't matter. We need to put someone else in his place as quickly as possible.
Oh, you morons. I'm surprised they haven't finished you off sooner.
"So," I clarified, "we're just going to move on to discussing the question of a new Council member?"
"Do you have some problem with that, Master?" the green-skinned owner of brain tentacles smiled charmingly. Hmm, even on the hologram his teeth were sparkling. Clearly, that's where all the strategic reserves of the Temple's Blend-a-med were going.
"Actually," Adi spoke up, "he's not the only one. Kirvan has killed many Jedi. No fewer than Ventress or Grievous. And we still don't have a plan for his capture."
"And we aren't even discussing that point," the Mirialan echoed.
Ooh, how sweet it is when your comrades stand up for you.
"What is there to discuss here?" Even Piell grumbled. "A strike team is needed. Track him down and kill him..."
"Master Piell!" Windu addressed him with emphasis in his voice. "Killing him in the current situation is a crime."
"Why would it be?" the Lannik was taken aback.
"The second Sith Dooku spoke of could be him."
Oh, you green freak.
"You can't be serious, Grand Master?" I asked, hoping for the best. "The second Sith—is in the Senate. Dooku said so..."
"He could have lied," Ki-Adi-Mundi noted.
Though... what was I hoping for? Eh, forgive us, Revan, we screwed everything up. Box, bury the Council.
"In solidarity with Master Mundi I am," Yoda noted. "By capturing Kirvan, interrogate him we can. And obtain valuable information..."
Well, of course. And none of you are going to risk your own asses—it's written on your satisfied mugs. Take that, Dougan, and sign for it.
"I hear you, Masters," the phrase sounded... threatening, somehow.
"I fundamentally disagree with the Council's decision," Even spoke up. From his appearance, the big-eared one was in a state close to rage. "We need a specially created unit to hunt him. I am ready to lead it and..."
"This is not discussed," Windu cut him off. "Baron Kirvan and General Grievous—are Master Dougan's concern."
Bastard. Stupid bastard.
I simply couldn't think of the Korun in any other way right now.
"Let us return to the discussion of more pressing matters," Kit Fisto suggested unperturbed. You annoying toad. Fine, let's see who wins the game of "Whoever dies first—loses." I have a very large certainty that I won't be the one to fail.
"I propose Master Coleman Kcaj for the vacant seat," Plo Koon said. "He is a judicious Jedi, and his experience could be useful to us."
"I support that," Windu nodded.
"It seems to me Stass Allie would be more suitable for this position," I said calmly. The Jedi—most of them, at least—glanced at each other. "She is one of the Order's best healers, a skilled fighter, and has proven herself well as a Jedi advisor. In my view, with her participation, the Council will be more... balanced."
"I object," who would have doubted it. Fisto, why the Hutt are you always the first for any commotion? Are the tentacles on your head too tight?
"Likewise," the amphibian was supported by Plo Koon. Not that I particularly wanted it.
In fact, having ended up on the Council, and mostly not even of my own will, I deeply regretted it. Because these damn meetings alone took up a ton of time. First, we listened to reports from other systems army commanders for almost the whole day, and now, late at night—still dealing with pressing Order business. Honestly—I wanted more MILITARY power, not internal political power.
And yet, I had no intention of slamming the door and leaving the Council either. Too valuable a source of information to ignore. Especially since in such a capacity, I can influence the Order at least a little. What is that retrospective psychology with the Mousehawk Clan worth alone? I didn't immediately realize what a gold mine that was.
Not only are there two dozen little ones on whom Jedi zombieism hasn't fully taken effect yet. But there's also an experienced mentor there. And, besides everything else, their course of training includes visiting an isolated enclave of the Order where the rules are less severe and the worldviews—less dogmatic. A perfect way to pull the most noteworthy characters toward me.
So, I argued more for form's sake. I knew perfectly well that no one would actually bring them back—the Council is incapable of reversing its own decisions. Such a thing spoils the image, which is already soiled enough in the military field.
As expected, the votes in the Council were divided. Windu, Kenobi, Koon, Mundi, Fisto, and the indecently silent Rancisis today—predictably stood as a united front against my promotion.
Luminara, Adi, myself, and Piell—naturally, were for it. It's curious that Shaak Ti, for whom I didn't particularly have much love, nor she for me, unexpectedly supported my candidacy. With Piell, it's more or less clear—this guy is just a warrior through and through, and the "chop them with a saber first, ask questions later" style I preach toward the enemy immensely appeals to him.
But why the hell Ti...
In fact, the difference between the positions—member of the High Council and Master of the High Council—is not very large. The work is the same. As they say—the pay raise is three cents, but they work you like you're getting a dollar.
Except for the first time in many years, I became the only non-Master on the Council. As Skywalker tearfully uttered: "This has never happened before." That's exactly why the Order's rules about what is permitted to a Master of the High Council, alas, did not apply to me.
Without the title of Master, I couldn't visit the secret part of the Archives where holocrons were kept, or—secret information collected by the Jedi over tens of thousands of years. Historical chronicles, delicate secrets... Everything needed to hold the galaxy by the scrotum. Except this Council either lacks the brains or the courage. Though, not all of them.
Windu, I recall, was generally ready to take the Senate under control, and Yoda's opinion wasn't particularly important to him. So, it can be argued that the Order's political impotence is Yoda's doing. Ten of Palpy's lightning bolts into the green one out of ten.
But most of all, I was interested in the Great Holocron.
The Order's most valuable relic. The most guarded "precious."
If there is a collection of knowledge about the Force in the galaxy larger than in this huge holocron—I don't know of it. I'm sure that all the combined knowledge I possess—doesn't compare to what the Great one holds.
During the raid, I couldn't capture it. Simply because it's the size of a decent speeder. And I want to get it.
So, given that the votes in the Council were effectively divided, Yoda's opinion could be decisive. As is known, his vote is equivalent to the votes of two other High Council members. And if he continues to favor me...
"I do not think the time has come to make Master Dougan a Master," Yoda said after several minutes of silence. "Perhaps one day, but not now."
Exchanging glances with Adi and Luminara, I shrugged.
Well, it didn't work out, it happens. Let's see about the new Council member...
Everything proceeded to get curiouser and curiouser.
Because I caught myself thinking that I had effectively created an opposition in the Council. For on the key question, the Council's opinions were again divided. The five of us—me, Unduli, Gallia, Ti, and Piell—supported the candidacy of Adi's cousin. The rest—were pushing for Kcaj. And no compromise was found. None at all.
No, we weren't standing on principle—saying if it's not our person, then no one else. It's just that Allie is actually and objectively more valuable on the Council than this alien, whose merits I can't even remember.
Eventually, when the realization came that the discussion had reached a dead end, I put forward a proposal to consider other candidates for this position. And... as it turned out—there simply were none. None of the Council members had a candidate in mind who would satisfy everyone—and otherwise, there would be no new Master. Only by unanimous approval.
On that, we parted. Four hours of shaking the air—and no result.
Telling, I must admit.
Running through what had happened in my memory, I smoothly moved my thoughts to what had happened overall today.
First and most importantly—reinforcements will be sent to my army, as well as to Adi and Luminara. A few ships and a lot of clones. That's good.
Something else is bad.
Palpatine, for some reason, tasked me with dealing with the hemorrhoid on the Outer Rim. Right in the place where the CIS has prepared a deep, echeloned defense. Where Grievous and that survivor Kirvan are present.
Plus, additionally—nearly a million fighters of the Coruscant Guard.
On one hand, everything is wonderful. I can carry out my party's policy—earn the loyalty of soldiers and officers, prepare my own rear.
However, will I have time?
The forces I have now will hardly suffice for a normal defense. In essence, it's necessary to create my own defense network parallel to similar CIS sectors. Without this, any somewhat large Separatist fleet will walk through the territories like a horde through the steppes.
And consequently, there was a lot and a very long war ahead. To somehow delay what Palpatine had planned for me.
Does it surprise me that under the guise of help and "entrusting great confidence" he's trying to tie my hands and feet, forcing me to deal with superior CIS forces? No, it doesn't surprise me. I was prepared for something like this. But not this fast.
What is he trying to achieve? Does he want to neutralize the CIS advantage in this region with my hands? Judging by the fact that they've suspended major operations in the Center and Mid Rim, their goal is the Outer Rim. And a significant portion of its territory—is my zone of responsibility.
Will it help me that Kamino and Rothana are now effectively working for me? It should.
Lord, so much work.
Millions of clones alone, who should be distributed among the Jedi. The most competent of those available. If I'm somewhat confident in those serving under me, then in the rest...
A signal beeped, announcing that the pre-invited "stars" were outside the entrance door.
While there's a lull on the "front"—the enemy was definitely preparing some kind of dirty trick, that's for sure. But for us, this break in active operations is an opportunity to replenish our losses, as clones and ships are flowing into the army in an endless stream. Therefore, for tomorrow's lunch, I scheduled the aforementioned "collegium."
Essentially a pointless exercise. Gather all the commanders of structural units to tell them what good and bad things happened over the past year, cut out new tasks, and bring direct orders and plans for the upcoming campaign to them. A fantastically necessary exercise, especially when the CIS might burst into an attack any moment.
But before that happens, I decided to talk face-to-face with those I can trust. Only it should happen the next morning—half a day before the collegium.
Glancing at the chronometer, I smirked.
I should have talked less with the Council. Tomorrow has already arrived. And judging by everything, those with whom I was to talk and consult before the full-format meeting have arrived.
"Let them enter," I ordered.
The door leaves swung open, letting Ollee inside. The girl, glancing at the hulks, timidly slipped past them into the office, then, nodding in greeting, inquired:
"You haven't been to bed at all?"
"There was no time," I smirked. "And you?"
The Padawan looked a bit rumpled. Which clearly indicated that she hadn't closed an eye either. But—for what reason?
"I was training with Ahsoka and Kira," she sighed. "Two obsessed maniacs."
"Who's complaining about obsession," I smiled, rising from the table to meet the girl.
"No, I don't mean it that way," the girl stroked her neck. "We were fencing all night. Literally everything is falling off me."
"And this, knowing that I'll need you in the morning?" I was surprised. Previously, the girl hadn't particularly favored long fencing training. Why had she changed her mind now? It couldn't be because of the manipulations performed on her on Belsavis? With Kira, it was clear; she sublimates her own rage that way.
"Master," she said with bitterness in her voice. "Honestly. I'm already tired of waiting to truly be needed by you. And this—listening to stories... Eh, what my youth is going toward..."
"Keep joking about that—I'll give you to the Dashade to eat," I promised, approaching the girl and turning her toward the exit by her shoulders.
Ollee flinched, seeing how both monsters perked up.
"I will eat her lower part," Khem rasped.
"We will tear her into equal halves," the chieftain countered. "In human females, the tastiest part is the rump."
"M-m-master," Ollee pressed against me as we passed by the monsters. "You understand them. What were they saying just now?"
"They gave you a compliment," I explained. "They liked your ass very much."
***
In every Citadel, there were a good dozen tactical rooms. In the one located on Christophsis, eight of them were provided for the needs of the staff and other army units. It's not that hard to get into them—it's enough to have a suitable pass, and guards from the Christophsian militia will escort you to the right room.
The Large Tactical Room is a huge amphitheater, designed for more than five hundred sentients. It somewhat resembles the one in the Jedi Temple. And it becomes doubly amusing when you remember whose project this massive building was built under.
Our path led to the Small Tactical Room. This room, whose existence was known to an extremely limited contingent of sentients, was located in the very heart of the Citadel—the most protected place in this building. An orbital strike could be launched on my residence—and still, most of it, intended for my personal use, would survive. As would all the information and all the sentients inside. Because a deflector, not inferior in strength to the planetary shield installed on Christophsis not long ago—is no joke. And the Skyborne legion hidden in the depths—that's for dessert. As is the commander of this beautiful security unit.
From the floor where my office was located, a separate turbolift led to the small room, which Ollee and I used. Hardly had the cabin reached the right level and the doors swung open, we were met by several sentients for whom I hadn't found a use yet, and so they served as commanders of my guard.
"Lord," Darth Hexid bowed to me. Darth Simi, standing next to her, silently repeated her gesture.
"Is everyone gathered?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's time for us too."
Ignoring the Zabrak women following me and my student, I strode down the corridor to the right room.
Hardly had the armored doors parted, the four of us entered.
In size, the small room was like a football field, and was called "small" only because of all the others, it had the most modest dimensions.
In its center was a huge holo-terminal, like the one installed on Odessen—only a modern model, created by a small company from the Mid Rim. Naturally, affiliated with our other "official" enterprises. I liked such devices for their functionality and the scale of the projections. Now they were united into a closed broadcasting network, protected from hacking by the artificial intelligence of one of the Gemini droids—a development we owe to the Maw Facility and one outstanding cyberneticist, who actually developed all the "innards" for the equipment—both stationary and portable.
Also, inside there was a large number of computer terminals and servers, on which extremely encrypted information was stored, which I had no intention of making public for my official activity as army commander. At least—not now.
"Glad to see everyone," I said without a trace of irony, approaching the holo-projector. Those gathered, until now busy with their own affairs, pulled up after me.
Activating the device, I established an encrypted communication channel with a number of my underlings, waiting for the light.
"New recruits?" the Dark Woman smirked, approaching me. Following the direction of her gaze, I smiled back.
"Yes. Lovely ladies. Do you like them?"
"They literally reek of the Dark Side," she explained. "That could be a problem."
"I know. That's why they're here—where they can't be detected."
Most of the inner rooms of the Citadel were shielded from the Force. Thanks to the endless stream of creatures from Myrkr. And some other materials that didn't allow the Force inside the building to leak out.
There weren't that many people present. But more than enough to advance my Plan further.
An'ya Kuro had brought three more Jedi with her to this meeting. The sweet couple—Tholme and T'ra Saa. And the Dark Woman's former Padawan—Jon Antilles.
"Are you sure about them?" I asked quietly.
"As sure as I am of myself," Kuro shrugged. "I've known Tholme and Saa for over twenty years. They know the truth, and neither is very keen on spending the rest of their lives in the middle of nowhere, wary of Sith trackers. I wouldn't say they're burning with desire to participate in a civil war. I would classify them as passive allies. Somewhere in a staff is the perfect place for them."
"Interesting. I was just thinking that Tholme, with his idea of a Separatist intelligence network—is a perfect candidate for the position of head of the Empire's security service."
"Perhaps so," Kuro replied with no hint of emotion. "In various kinds of intrigues, this pair has no equal. No wonder they've been leading the whole Order by the nose for half their lives, and even Windu couldn't catch them 'red-handed'."
"Let's assume everything is clear with them," I supposed. "What about Antilles?"
"Jon is a wanderer. The Force leads him. Like his girlfriend Fay."
"I remember that name. She was supposed to arrive in the army several weeks ago, but got lost somewhere."
"It's innate with them," An'ya agreed. "Wanderers—are a bit out of this world. They roam the galaxy wherever the Force takes them. And look for someone to help."
"A real dream team," I smiled. "Are they both on our side?"
"I can vouch for Jon," Kuro said confidently. "He may be a man of few words, but he has a perfect sense of self-preservation..."
Which didn't help him in the history I know.
"He listens to me. And if I say this cause is—right, then he agrees."
"And Fay?"
An'ya shook her head.
"It's more complicated here. She's older than Yoda, and what's going on in her head, you won't know without opening her skull. Personally, I wouldn't count on it. She and Jon have... a unique relationship, but no one living has any strong influence on her. For as long as I've known myself, Fay has always been an orthodox adherent of the Light Side. She previously led the Shadows, but left when she felt like wandering and helping everyone."
"One must be careful with her," I agreed.
"Don't worry, kid," the Dark Woman smirked. "If it comes to a fight, I'll cover you."
"I'm the one who'll have to do the covering," I huffed.
"Do you doubt the leader of the Shadow Corps can stand up for herself?" she narrowed her eyes threateningly.
"I am convinced that any enemy of yours—is merely a future corpse," I assured. "If I doubted you, I would never have prepared the position for you that you are to occupy in the Empire."
"That's more like it," she huffed with a deep sense of satisfaction. "Keep in mind, I won't be getting into bed with you."
"'Too old for this shit?'" I clarified with a cheerful smile.
"I'm afraid you'll finish before I even get started," the Dark Woman returned the joke. "Besides, you have enough playthings as it is," she nodded toward several girls standing opposite us. "I don't want to be one of many."
"And what about the dogma that Jedi have nothing personal?" I smirked. "Everything is shared, as the founders of Marxism-Jediism bequeathed."
"And they all fall for that?" Kuro was surprised. Taking my silence for an answer, she shook her head. "Sentients in our Temple are becoming smaller... and the sense in them."
Meanwhile, those present had already surrounded the terminal in anticipation of the start of the meeting. However, until the others connected to us—that was not to be dreamed of.
But I had time to evaluate those who had joined me over the year of my strenuous work.
Sia-Lan Wezz. An excellent fencer, a cute little woman. And, what is most fascinating—a perfectly competent general. The percentage of losses in her corps was one of the lowest. A good acquisition. People like her will form the backbone of the "generals" when the time comes to step out of the shadows. Someone will have to lead my ground troops to victory, right? And who could be better than those already hardened in battles?
In this same category, I included Aayla Secura and Siri Tachi. The girls are quite competent in matters of war. They might not be as successful in terms of minimizing losses, but they enjoy respect in their units. And they don't disdain gaining new experience—the zeal with which they've taken to studying the tactical manuals of the Sith Empire only evokes praise.
Kaili Omas. For now, the only healer in our "company." I had to work a lot with her to get her consent. Oh, how much all those mental manipulations cost my nerves...
And how tired I am of them already—digging into other people's brains.
The holo-terminal beeped, announcing the establishment of connection with remote subscribers.
In literally a few seconds, holograms of two Council Masters appeared.
"How interesting," the Dark Woman voiced. "Gallia and Unduli are with us too?"
"Surprised?" I huffed. "And I thought the Shadows knew everything..."
The woman snorted indignantly.
"It's not easy to find time for a secret communication session," Gallia smiled at those present.
"Good day," Unduli greeted less expressively.
"Oh, Dougan," the Tholothian didn't let me open my mouth. "And who are these new faces in our circle of interest-based conspiracies?"
"She annoys me," Hexid said quietly in the Zabrak dialect. Oh, really. This was the first case when the Zabrak women showed their spirited character. After Yavin 4, they hadn't even lifted their gaze from the floor. And here, look at that, they've stirred...
"A good Jedi is a dead Jedi," Simi replied coldly. "She would make a good battery for me..."
"For your information," Gallia unexpectedly replied to everyone in the same language, "I hold the same view about the Sith. Dougan," she addressed me in Basic now, "could you keep your new whores on a leash?"
The relationship with Adi... was unique. Despite the fact that I was able to enlist her support and influence, over time she managed to somewhat expand the boundaries of what was permitted. This reminded me of what happened with Revan. Setting off to kill the Emperor, he fell under the latter's mental control and returned to the Republic to find the Star Forge for his new master. However, over time the Jedi managed to overcome the power of Sith magic and take control of his mind. But the Emperor's mental triggers played a cruel joke. Revan began to think that he himself desired to possess the Star Forge and build his own Empire.
So it was with the Tholothian. Now her mind had almost polished away the traces of my intrusion. Но the main points still remained. Although without subservience, she was loyal to me. Not as a servant or a slave. More as a comrade-in-arms. Who can allow herself certain liberties when communicating in a circle of other ladies.
As they say—once doesn't make you a womanizer. And, although it was good with Adi, neither she nor I sought to develop our relationship in any way. A roll in the hay with a Jedi Master without obligations—what could be better?
"Ahem," I smoothed the stubble on my chin. "Let me introduce you. Adi Gallia—Darth Hexid, Darth Simi. And no, Adi, they are my bodyguards, not..."
"Whore-bodyguards?" the Tholothian asked unperturbed. "Original. I call dibs on you not coming to me right after them."
Quiet laughter broke out. Remember what I said about my relationship with Adi? Forget it. It seems this Hutt empathy will still come back to haunt me. I wonder, are there still any ladies in my circle who don't want to screw me? Meeting Luminara's gaze, I breathed a sigh of relief. It seems—there are.
"About whores next time," I promised those gathered. "Let's get down to business. Events are developing faster than expected. The Separatists are tightening the ring around our three armies. Considering it's only around ours—it cannot be a coincidence. Just as Chancellor Palpatine—also known as the Sith Lord Darth Sidious—personally contributed to me leading all three armies during such a crisis. By his blessing, all possible clones from Kamino are being sent under our banners. Likewise, all resources of Kamino and Rothana are passing into my direct management."
"Not the most positive news," Aayla noted.
"Especially," Sia-lan added, "considering they sent a huge number of Jedi to us."
"And Padawans," Kaili added. "The half-dozen that flew in are still not settled. And in general, they're starting to get on my nerves."
"Ah yes," too much in my head to keep everything. It seems it's time to start writing things down. "Padawans..."
"They can be placed under the wing of other Jedi," a voice came from the shadows. And, in literally the next minute, a short Togruta appeared near the holo-terminal.
"Ahsoka," I smirked. "I was standing here wondering where you'd disappeared to..."
"More and more interesting," An'ya smirked. "Padawan Tano..."
"No," the girl countered in a calm tone. Surveying those present, she gave a small bow in my direction. "Lady Tano. At your service, my Emperor."
***
The Large Tactical Room of the Citadel could barely fit all those "wishing" to be there. Dozens of Jedi, clones, officers... Alone or in company, they filled the room to capacity.
Despite the fact that the organizers of the event had not provided any seating system, those gathered were clearly divided into three categories, between which a slight distrust could be traced on a purely subconscious level.
"Quite a lot, though," Ollee said, taking a stealthy sip of an energy drink. Comfortably settled in the back rows of the hall, she could, like a predator, track what was happening in the entire room. Her master had strictly forbidden her from showing herself until the end of the collegium. And it was better not to anger him. Memories of Master Bulq's fine-particle demise were still fresh.
"All the Jedi and Padawans, admirals and commanders of 'Gent'," Ahsoka said quietly. "I didn't even think there were so many of them..."
"Staff officers in full," Ollee reported, squinting. "Commanders of all commando squads, all corps and legions, representatives of the militia... That's some power indeed."
"Uh-huh," the girl said gloomily. "Only we're standing still. And we could..."
"Silence in the hall!" her master's voice rang out, amplified by equipment. Along with a number of reporting officers, he surrounded a holo-terminal similar to the one Ollee had already seen this morning.
As if by magic, all sorts of talk in the room ceased. Listening to the Force, Starstone noted that the attention of all present without exception was fixed on her mentor. A mixture of feelings—from delight and respect to poorly hidden skepticism and irritation. The Padawan tried with offense to track the sources of negative thoughts about her teacher, but achieved no success on this front. As always, she lacked persistence. And her attention was constantly scattered.
The girl, sighing, touched her hand to her lightsaber. Almost immediately, a wave of calm washed over her. Her master had expertly selected the crystals for her. Except in her youth, she still couldn't overcome her habit—saying everything on her mind. And all she had to do was touch the lightsaber more often—and her head cleared instantly.
After her mind calmed down, she was easily able to catch the source of negative emotions. A group of Jedi. Ollee strained her memory to recall their names. And she realized with surprise that she remembered each of them by name.
Soara Antana. A good acquaintance of Master Kenobi.
Rahm Kota. Commander of the "Ruusan Insurgents" unit—volunteers whose very sight made the girl shiver. Real thugs who, after a single operation as part of the then 13th Sectoral Army, had been recalled to Ord Pardron, where they remained to this day.
A silent Jedi, recently fighting under the Dark Woman's command. It seemed his name was Maw. Sullen, deliberately clumsy, a Boltrunian exuding only detached danger. He was one of the Shadows, the most mysterious corps within the Order of all. Her master had told her that they were a kind of Jedi "cleaners" who hunted for spawn of the Dark Side. And their worldview was extremely simple—anything that isn't Light is subject to destruction. Master Kuro said he was a "thing in himself." And strongly advised against recruiting him.
Another from the "discontented" group stood out significantly among the others. He wore the traditional clothes of the brigands from Tatooine. Her master treated him extremely coldly. And based on the fragments of Dougan's memories, Ollee would have preferred not to deal with him at all.
Meanwhile, Ollee sensed that a stir had begun in the room. Tearing herself away from her thoughts, she scanned the audience. People and Jedi were talking among themselves about something. Only the clones maintained their composure.
"What's happening?" she asked in a whisper.
"Dougan brought information to everyone about the Separatists' actions," Ahsoka replied, also in a whisper. "Few people like the prospect of encirclement... despite the reinforcements."
Ollee sighed quietly.
It is what it is.
The barracks on Christophsis were literally bursting from the endless stream of clones. Companies, battalions, legions... Sometimes entire corps arrived in the system. Considering the girl was aware of exactly how they were obtained... It was becoming frightening to realize that the Jedi and other commanders considered clones to be nothing more than things that could be exchanged for others.
"Now then," her master caught everyone's attention, drowning out the hubbub of voices. "You know the situation on the fronts. Now it's time to discuss the state of our ranks. Colonel Dialo," the named officer rose. "How are things with the replenishment of our ranks?"
"At the moment," the head of personnel and logistics checked his datapad, "we are two hundred percent equipped with line infantry and specialists in all fields. At the same time, reinforcements continue to arrive. According to the provisions of the GAR Regulations, we are completing existing units or forming new ones using existing unit numbers listed under the army registry as destroyed or disbanded with heavy losses."
"How many line infantry corps do we have at the moment?"
"Twenty-seven, sir," the colonel replied without hesitation. "Fully equipped with experienced fighters of the first three generations of clones from Kamino. Но only some of them have direct Jedi commanders. In connection with which your decision is necessary."
"Good," her master brought up the existing army summaries on one of the monitors. "Let's deal with that right now. 8th Infantry Corps, formed from the 204th, 187th, 313th Legions and the 4th Infantry Brigade, which includes the 104th Battalion, 442nd Siege Battalion, Rancor Battalion, 38th Armored Division, as well as Tango and Ghost Companies. Marshal Commander Nyx is appointed corps commander," the indicated clone, former commander of the 204th Legion, rose from his seat. "Congratulations on the promotion."
"To whom should I hand over the legion, sir?" the clone asked.
"Senior Clone Commander Flash," the named fighter rose from the group of clones. Ollee was surprised to see that he had a large number of cybernetic prosthetics. "From now on, the 204th is under your command."
"Yes, sir," the clone replied quietly but confidently.
"The 5th Assault comes under the command of Senior Clone Commander Master," another commander was on his feet. "The 6th," another clone rose from his seat. "Senior Clone Commander Ded, I hope we'll work well together."
"Undoubtedly, sir."
Her master, smoothing his hair, continued.
"7th Air Corps," one of the clones with yellow painted elements rose from his seat. "Marshal Cody, as well as Marshals Nyx, Master, and Ded. From now on, you are part of the unit that operates directly under my command."
"Yes, sir!" four throats barked in unison.
"Excellent," the man smirked, then continued: "So, the new 21st... wait a minute. Captain Rex," one of the clones sitting next to Marshal Cody rose from his seat. "You lead Torrent Company in the 501st, right?"
"Nominally I do, sir."
"Then congratulations. Now you are not nominally, but in all reality, legally commanding the 501st. Your place as company commander will be taken by Captain Beard," another clone rose from his seat. Judging by the fact that he was dressed in the updated armor used in "Gent," he was clearly one of the veterans of this unit. Possibly—one of the junior commanders of the 204th Legion. Looking closely, Ollee smirked. Indeed, the breastplate of the new commander of Torrent Company was decorated with the emblem of the legion, for which the glorious name "Dougan's Fist" had stuck. How interesting.
Meanwhile, the former Captain Rex stood at attention. Of course, promotions in the clone army did happen. Но mostly new commanders were simply sent to replace those who had left. The 501st frequently appeared in GAR reports as one of the legions where commanders don't live long. That's why Captain Rex—one of the few officers of this unit to live to these days—had effectively commanded it.
"Returning to the 21st Corps," a fighter in the characteristic attire for this unit rose from his seat. "You come under the command of General Tholme."
"Yes, sir."
"I entrust the 9th Assault Corps to the care of General T'ra Saa. The 63rd Assault Corps remains under the command of Serra Keto. The 77th Recon—still under the leadership of General Tem... Kuro," Ollee suppressed a giggle, imagining how the title "General Dark Woman" would sound. "General Antana," a handsome middle-aged woman rose from her seat. "I am removing you from command of the 89th Corps..."
"For what reason?" the Jedi flared up.
"When you learn to value the lives of your subordinates," her master said, squinting, "we'll talk about returning you to command. That is all. Ri'ike En," a tall and powerfully built young Jedi with short black hair rose from his seat. "From now on, you work together with the commander of the 89th Corps, Marshal Zorgy."
Before the eyes of all present, the Jedi, without saying a word, moved to sit next to the marshal, who, hearing his name, had also risen from his seat to personally see his new commander. A more than telling act.
"General Stass Allie, Marshal Neyo," her master, catching both their eyes, nodded to his thoughts. "From now on, the 91st Reconnaissance Legion is under your command."
"95th Reconnaissance Corps," a clone rose. "Marshal Ivan, congratulations on the promotion. You work together with General A'Sharad Hett," hearing this, Ollee was surprised. Had her master really risked entrusting such a unit as an entire corps to someone "unreliable"?
"156th Assault Corps," Ollee noticed out of the corner of her ear as two people sitting nearby—a Jedi and a clone—rose. "General Tachi, Marshal Ventor, continue to work together. The 178th Paratrooper Corps passes under the command of General Xiaan Amersu," the Rutian Twi'lek, rising to her feet, began to look around for her unit commander. "Marshal Lodbrok is in the hospital. You can thank Knight Sitra for that. So you have some time to familiarize yourself with the unit. I advise you to pay less attention to piloting a fighter and more to tactical planning."
"Yes, Master Dougan," the Twi'lek said quietly, sitting back in her place, like all the previous Jedi and clones.
"190th Assault Corps," her master continued. "Marshal Hellagen," and once again a clone rose from his seat. "You report to Jedi Master B'ink Utrila," the Lethan Twi'lek, along with her Padawan—a girl with blue hair—moved to sit with her clone.
"The 207th Star Corps of Marshal Ogra passes under the command of General Mander Zuma. The 212th Reconnaissance Corps remains under the command of Jedi Knight Rachi Sitra. Marshal Commander Sinilian," he met the indicated clone's eyes. "A final warning to your general."
"I understand you, Master," the Twi'lek with purple skin said, looking down.
"Thank Marshal Sinilian for vouching for you," Dougan shook his head. "Next. The 217th Assault Corps remains under the command of General Sia-Lan Wezz and Marshal Riviriv. 224th Assault Corps—Marshal Blade and General Melic Galera. 305th Paratrooper Corps," here her master fell silent for a short while, thinking about something. After that, lifting his head, he searched among the clones for the right one and said. "Marshal Mifispi," waiting for the clone to stand at attention before the Grand Moff, he asked: "How do you evaluate the actions of your last commander?"
"She showed herself well, sir," the clone reported. "Considering the situation... she did everything she could. I don't know if anyone could have handled it better in her place."
"Good. A very flattering evaluation. Commander Deran Naluan," Ollee noticed with surprise that there was another Togruta among the Jedi besides her friend. "The 305th remains under your command."
"Yes, Master Dougan," the girl bowed, returning to her seat.
"Knight Olana Chion," a young girl in traditional Jedi clothes rose from her seat. "You are tasked with commanding the 332nd Paratrooper Corps. Marshal Zachary, I hope you'll work well together."
"Undoubtedly, sir," the clone replied briskly, with a slight smile.
"The 327th Star Corps continues to operate under the command of General Aayla Secura and Marshal Bly."
"Master K'Kruhk now leads the 416th Star Corps," the Jedi said after several minutes of silence. "His marshal, Erkas, is also currently in the medical center. So you'll meet him later."
"611th Paratrooper Corps of Marshal Nomad," another clone rose to his feet. "You report to Master Bol Chatak. With that," her master shook his head, "that is all regarding the equipment of existing corps. With the formation of new ones, the remaining Jedi will be directed to those units."
"Now," her master sighed, "regarding the reorganization of fleet squadrons. Arrow squads are disbanded through reforming into 'Rapier' strike squadrons under the command of Rear Admiral Zsinj, 'Dagger' under Rear Admiral Piin, 'Sling' under Rear Admiral Grunger, 'Catapult' under Rear Admiral Takel, and 'Sickle' under Rear Admiral Batch. Additionally, based on Commodore Sagoro Autem's squad, 'Scimitar' squadron is created. Commodore Voss Parck," an officer whose face and head were almost entirely covered in medical bandages rose from his seat, swaying slightly. "You will lead the 'Sledgehammer' strike squadron. Currently, several more squadrons are being formed, which will pass under the command of Commodores Jan Dodonna, Adar Tallon, Teren Rogriss, and Thrauden Teradoc. Over time, we will bring the number of strike squadrons to two dozen, but for now we have what we have. Now for the tasks for the strike squadrons and other fleet forces. The Christophsis Defense Fleet under the command of Admiral Shirano, in connection with the changes made by the Senate regarding the subordination of planetary defense forces to systems army commanders, passes under my direct management. The task remains the same—defense of the Christoph system. The other strike squadrons—nothing cardinally changes. Destruction of enemy forces, escort of landing forces. The strength of each squadron will be increased to five Venator-class Star Destroyers, twenty Hammerhead heavy cruisers and a similar number of Marauder-class corvettes and three Pelta-class medical frigates. Landing forces will be attached to each squadron depending on the task set."
"I beg your pardon, sir," Vice Admiral Pellaeon rose from his seat. "At the moment, we do not have a suitable number of Venators."
"That is correct," her master nodded. "By agreement with the Jedi Council and the Chancellor, the requirements of our and two neighboring systems armies for ships and ground equipment will be met on Rothana first," an approving murmur swept through the hall, the source of which was primarily the naval officers present. "Furthermore, we expect a significant replenishment of the Hammerhead and Marauder park—more than two thousand in total. Admiral Shirano," the indicated man rose. "Am I right, the Christophsis government has made a new order for heavy cruisers?"
"That is correct, Grand Moff," he nodded. "Three hundred Dreadnaughts have been purchased on Rendili for the needs of the systems army. Over the first contract, a purchase of a thousand Hammerheads is also being made."
"For my part, I can say that Sienar Republic Systems will provide us with fifteen hundred Marauder-class corvettes in the next two months. Similarly, with an excess of the norm by twice, the purchase of fighters and other equipment will be made."
"Master Dougan, may I ask a question," a tall, powerfully built Jedi rose from his seat. "What is the further fate of the Jedi Ace Corps? We have suffered significant losses recently..."
"Knight Muln, if I'm not mistaken?" receiving an affirmative answer, Dougan continued:
"The Corps will be restored. As its leader, I give you permission to recruit any Jedi who currently do not have an assignment in the staff, special operations department, army, or fleet."
"Understood," he said. "Thank you for the answer."
"Well," her master sighed. "Now we come to the culmination of our meeting."
Three-dimensional images of CIS ships appeared over the holo-communicator.
"The strengthening of the CIS fleet is cause for alarm," said tactical officer Mara Cross. "Their new battleships... are very substantial opponents even for Venators."
"What danger can these Bulwarks represent to us," Admiral Pellaeon inquired from his seat, "if it's known about the ships we have that they're inside the Foerost blockade?"
"We cannot deny the possibility that these ships could be built in other parts of the galaxy as well," the head of intelligence shook his head.
"I have familiarized myself with the tactical and technical characteristics known to us," Rear Admiral Takel stated. "But even what we know—is enough to understand—we have a big problem before us."
"Actually," Dialo performed several manipulations over the device, "we have something to answer them with. In the near future, these ships will go into production. Including on Rothana. Thanks to the innovative modular assembly technology perfected on the Venators, the construction of one such ship takes only two weeks."
The holo-projector flickered, demonstrating an image of a combat starship.
"Venator?" Admiral Zsinj, whom Ollee recognized as the "fatty," grimaced. "A Bulwark will crack them like nuts. We've already established that. Or are we going to test it in practice?"
"This is the Predator," Dougan explained with not the slightest hint of emotion. "Kuat shipyards accumulated all the remarks on the Venator and Acclamator-class ships that they received during the first year of the war. Weakened anti-aircraft armament, insufficient protection of the hangars and the stern, vulnerable superstructures. All this was supposed to be embodied in the modernization of the Venator-class destroyers, however, engineer Wessex effectively created the ship anew."
"It looks," Admiral Piin drawled, "somewhat... awkward, maybe."
"It seems the Kuat engineers have really taken the bit between their teeth," Tigellinus smirked. "This is..."
"Have we really received a full-fledged battleship?" Admiral Screed spoke up.
Ollee listened to them with half an ear. Because the picture unfolding before her, which her master had not demonstrated for some reason this morning, represented a problem. Practically two kilometers long.
Externally, the Predator indeed looked like the Venators. Familiar hull contours. Except compared to the familiar model of the latter, the former looked, in Ollee's opinion, immensely... fresh. Indeed, you could no longer say it wasn't a warship. Summoned to the Hutts to annihilate its enemies.
"After long discussions, Kuat reduced the main hangar by half," Dialo was saying. "There was a rotation of the air wing, and now only civilian ships—shuttles and such—are concentrated in the main hangar. This neutralizes the need to use it for launching fighters, and accordingly—eliminates the threat of this element being hit in battle. The air wing, overall, has not undergone any significant changes—the same quantitative and qualitative composition. But the armament... The Star Destroyer received a main battery—four four-gun heavy turbolaser mounts in the bow. The number of dual turbolaser mounts has been brought to fourteen—four of which are located in an elevated formation directly at the base of the superstructure. Anti-aircraft armament has been increased by fifty percent."
"Did the lower hangar remain?" Commodore Autem rose from his seat.
"Yes," Dialo agreed. "The designers installed a small surprise for the Separatists there," having performed several more manipulations, he zoomed in on the lower discussed part of the ship. "A battery of super-heavy energy plasma cannons is installed here—three units, each of which is twice as powerful and has twice the range of similar mounts on a SPHA."
A whistle of surprise and admiration rang out in the room, authored by Zsinj.
"Well, now," he said with a smirk, "those Separatist bastards will really have to dance for us."
Exchanging a glance with Ahsoka, Ollee noticed concern in her eyes too.
It seemed that putting such a ship into service meant the appearance of problems not only for the Confederacy of Independent Systems but also for the Eternal Empire. Because against the background of this monster, even the armed-to-the-teeth Harrowers—the backbone of the Empire's fleet—no longer seemed dominant or overwhelmingly superior.
"Mr. Wessex has really screwed us over," Ollee whispered. "I think I know who our assassin droids will visit next."
"Should have done it sooner," Ahsoka countered. "And now, I sense we're in big trouble."