The shuttle—apparently named, somewhat ironically, "Phantom"—was violently ejected from hyperspace. It would be more accurate to say it spilled out rather than emerged, as if we had slammed straight into an invisible wall. I could feel the ancient hull groan under the strain of the enormous gravitational forces surrounding us. Our arrival point was relatively close—in interstellar terms, at least—to the destroyed station, but this time we no longer needed to worry about pursuit.
Directly ahead, trapped between two stars that scanner readings suggested were nearing collapse, a massive industrial structure slowly rotated. Its angular silhouette left no doubt as to its origin: an ancient Sith Empire military depot, lost deep in the Core Worlds, where modern navigation systems didn't even attempt plotting routes for fear of being dragged into a black hole.
Warning indicators on the console began flashing red in a frantic pattern, signaling critical radiation levels outside. Elara only tightened her grip on the controls, keeping the shuttle within a narrow safe corridor. The data we had extracted from the Void Watcher contained both gravitational maps and detailed distortion models, allowing us to calculate a survivable approach.
"If this rust bucket falls apart right now, you'd better be ready," Elara muttered, "because I'll personally drag your soul through the Force myself, Brutus."
She immediately turned my earlier explanation of the Force back against me—especially the part where I had explained Vitiate and why he couldn't simply be destroyed from orbit. Despite her complaints, her fingers never stopped moving across the sensors, stabilizing the ancient shuttle's failing systems. She looked exhausted, but there was an unmistakable thrill in her eyes. I probably looked the same. Behind us, Khem gave a low, guttural growl and muttered something unprintable while checking his weapon restraints, clearly unimpressed with our enthusiasm for flying a barely functional relic.
After roughly half an hour of extremely delicate maneuvering, we finally docked with one of the surviving airlocks. Once pressure equalization completed, I stepped onto the dusty deck plating—surfaces that, by all appearances, had not been touched by living beings for thousands of years. While Elara worked the distribution panel to restore power to essential systems, I accessed the decrypted archives from the Void Watcher on my handheld terminal, hoping to find a schematic or map of the depot. What I found instead was far more interesting.
It was a collection of digital debt contracts and money-laundering agreements dating back to the Old Republic era. After a quick cross-check of the names, I couldn't help but smirk internally. The ancestors of several current executives within the Intergalactic Banking Clan had built their fortunes on Sith—and otherwise questionable—resources, and under certain Outer Rim jurisdictions, these documents were still legally enforceable. Technically speaking, this was already a jackpot—if not the jackpot—and we hadn't even begun exploring the main vault. If handled correctly, this could become extremely useful leverage. Though realistically, it would be more efficient to hand it over to R.G.A., given how much my workload had already increased.
"Uh… Boss," Elara's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Incoming encrypted transmission on a CIS priority channel. Judging by the code, it's Count Dooku personally."
A moment later, a bluish holographic silhouette formed above the central console. It was impressive that a signal had even reached us in this forgotten corner of space, but I had long since stopped trying to understand the mechanics of local hyperspace communications.
I stepped forward, trying to look appropriately exhausted and slightly concussed—just enough to justify the loss of contact and the destruction of the station. Dooku's expression was as composed as ever, though there was clear disapproval in his eyes.
"I trust you have a satisfactory explanation for the destruction of a potentially valuable ancient facility," he said calmly, "and for the fact that you led Jedi to it instead of contacting me, so that the CIS fleet could secure it from Republic interference, Brutus."
"Of course, my lord," I replied slowly, carefully pacing my words as if struggling to breathe. "It was a Jedi trap. I identified it immediately and neutralized it—let's say, in my own way. There was no need to deploy an entire fleet. I was still able to recover something useful. Unfortunately, the Republic triggered a self-destruct sequence as soon as they realized their archives might fall into our hands."
I paused briefly, maintaining the illusion of strain.
"I only managed to salvage a fraction of the data, along with this shuttle, which is now drifting through an asteroid field while we attempt to restore navigation. It appears the Republic either failed to fully secure the station or did not consider all the data worth erasing—which allowed me to retrieve something that may interest you greatly."
Dooku's eyes narrowed slightly. The anger faded into something closer to curiosity, which he quickly masked behind his usual aristocratic restraint.
I continued, feeding him the prepared narrative: a fabricated artifact known as the Prophecy of the Void—a mythic object allegedly capable of resonating within the Force in a way that could temporarily sever a Force user's connection to it. It was absurd enough to be legendary, yet plausible enough that Dooku could not simply dismiss it. More importantly, it was dangerous enough that he would not allow anyone else to pursue it. He would go himself. And that alone gave me all the leverage I needed.
By the time he realizes it is a fabrication, I will either be fully prepared to act—or I will have already reshaped the situation beyond his control.
"I've transmitted partial encrypted coordinates recovered from the station," I added, injecting a hint of reverence. "They lead into the Deep Core, to an abandoned temple site. There is something of great significance there, my lord. And I believe only you are worthy of uncovering it… including references to several artifacts, one of which in particular drew my attention—the so-called Prophecy of the Void."
"This… is a valuable discovery, Brutus," Dooku said at last, studying me with an unreadable expression.
"I understand its importance and make no claim to it," I replied immediately. "I will avoid that sector entirely. However, I also recovered coordinates to several similar installations to the one where the Jedi ambushed us. I intend to investigate them. There may be further valuable discoveries."
"Good," Dooku replied. "Continue your mission under full radio silence. Do not attract attention."
His hologram began to fade.
"Contact me before you set foot on the next site. I may provide fleet support in case of another trap."
The transmission ended.
"Master, over here," Khem called out.
While we had been occupied, he had already wandered off and apparently found something.
He led me to a crudely forced-open door—though I had no memory of hearing any explosion or breach—behind which lay a dusty chamber filled with crates of metal ingots. I wasn't an expert, but ordinary steel would not require this level of security. These were likely valuables of some kind.
I was about to call Elara when she contacted me instead.
"Boss, one of our external sensors just picked up a return signal on the frequency we used for our access code. Looks like someone else in this dead zone noticed our arrival—and they're coming to greet us. And judging by the vector, they're definitely not interested in conversation."
A second later, an unknown transmission arrived in a language I somehow understood as naturally as Basic.
"Core Guardian requests unidentified vessel to state its designation."
A chill ran down my spine—completely unrelated to the ship's environmental systems—because this could only mean one thing.
In this sector of the Deep Core, we were not alone. And whatever had survived here since the days of the Old Republic was still fully operational.
Khem let out another low, frustrated growl, muttering about how much he hated space travel, while I hurried back to the cockpit.