The Guardian, the Chimaera, and the other starships of the battle group tasked with attacking the Silri Syndicate hung in interstellar void.
Final preparations were underway aboard the starships.
The battle ahead wouldn't be an easy one.
But first, we needed to obtain the necessary telemetry.
And also — let intelligence do its dark work.
"Sir," Captain Pellaeon approached me. "The Guardian's scanners have detected a ship arriving. The transponder and visual confirmation match. Fourth Special Forces team has returned from the mission."
"Quickly," I assessed the speed at which they'd moved. It seemed the best technologies were put into these modified Raiders, including an advanced hyperdrive. "Prepare the third conference room."
Pellaeon glanced at me sideways.
Well, yes — a conference room for four clone commandos was a bit wasteful.
"They're not alone," I explained calmly, stroking the ysalamiri. "They have a guest with them whom we'll be glad to see, Captain. But, just in case, Lieutenant Colonel," I looked at the silent statue of Tierce, "keep your men and the Dark Apprentice ready. If the negotiations reach a dead end or don't go as the Dominion's interests require — get rid of our guest. By any means necessary, Lieutenant Colonel."
"It will be done, sir."
Well then…
Time to look into the mouth of the rancor.
* * *
He didn't get to enjoy the silence either.
The moment Gilad took off his tunic and lay down on the luxurious bed, turning on the holoviewer, the door to his quarters swung open.
The Baroness walked in.
For a change of pace, without a glass.
"Was it that hard for you?" she asked.
As always — with no specifics about what was happening.
Gilad had already realized that to live with this woman, he needed the intuition of a Jedi.
Because otherwise, the subtext of her words was simply impossible to guess.
And consequently — another scandal was brewing.
"What are we talking about this time?" he asked.
"As if you don't understand."
"I suspect you've come to continue the conversation about the Hunter."
"How did you even get your position if you can't guess what I came to talk about?" Fina shook her head.
Pellaeon could only sigh heavily.
And you couldn't explain it in two words.
"If you're interested, Ellie Stark has left our residence," the Baroness declared.
Quickly.
Though, it was hard to blame her.
Lady Stark had already done everything she could to resolve the dispute between the spouses with minimal problems for both.
It was a shame the Baroness didn't understand that.
Due to limited access to classified information, Fina D'Asta didn't possess even a fraction of the knowledge about what was happening outside her sphere of influence in the D'Astan sector.
And so she built her requests and wishes solely on what her corporate intelligence could dig up.
And the maximum the latter could obtain was long-outdated information about which versions of TIE Interceptors were in service with the Dominion.
Though, Astarion reported that beyond the border, the Baroness's corporate espionage was more successful.
From which one could conclude that Fina, generally speaking, was thinking logically.
In her mind, the Dominion was armed with outdated technology, while the enemy had the latest models.
The decision to push for the supply of Hunters was partially logical — under those circumstances.
Unfortunately, Pellaeon couldn't have informed her earlier about the capabilities of Dominion technology.
Security considerations, after all.
Information about the parameters of Dominion small craft was classified as "secret."
It was completely impossible for the Baroness to learn it.
And so she, obviously considering her husband an idiot, nagged him until Gilad decided to cut this scandalous knot by saying what she heard in the presence of Lady Stark.
"I hope her journey home is easy," Gilad wished.
"Do you know how humiliating it is — first to hear from you that I'm actually an idiot who thought the Dominion had problems with light fighters, who kept pushing you with an idea to help the family business and the Dominion, only to find out that everything is completely different?!" the Baroness was clearly furious. "You made me look like a complete idiot in front of Stark! Not just a complete idiot — a fool who had no idea what she was asking of her husband!"
Well… that was about right.
"Self-critical, Baroness," Gilad acknowledged. "Thrawn once told me that acknowledging a problem is the first step toward solving it."
"And now you're insulting me," the Baroness sat down on the edge of the bed with a single, not ungraceful, movement. "Do you understand that you've deprived me of possibly my only friend?"
"How so?"
The last accusation surprised Pellaeon.
"Do you think it's completely normal when you first discuss a way to help the Dominion with your husband and a friend, and then, during the conversation with said friend, guards walk up and take nondisclosure agreements from you?!" the Baroness flared up. "In my own home! My own guards!"
"You're right about the house, but the guards certainly aren't yours," Pellaeon corrected, inwardly amused.
"So even the security in my own house doesn't answer to me?!" the Baroness fumed.
"The Guard is the elite of the Dominion," Pellaeon reminded. "They serve the head of state. And carry out his orders. In this case, they ensure yours and my safety and the protection of the residence, not to mention other protected persons and objects. The fact that they obliged you to keep secret what you heard about the tactical and technical characteristics of our current small craft is perfectly normal. The security of the state and its secrets is paramount."
"It's a blow to my reputation! Can you imagine how humiliating it is when your own security demands you sign nondisclosure documents?" the Baroness asked.
"At least you won't bring up the Hunter issue anymore," Gilad shrugged.
"Couldn't you have told me that during our past conversations on the subject?" Fina pressed on.
"Personally, I'm used to one, or occasionally two, explanations being enough for my interlocutor to understand what I'm saying. I told you we don't need the Hunters, and the modern machines in service can handle the enemy just fine. You decided to go all in and called in Lady Stark as backup. So my words didn't convince you, and you were going to keep insisting. Lifting the veil of secrecy for you was the simplest way to end our argument forever."
Here again, he had to thank Ellie Stark.
The girl, obviously, had no idea until the very end why she'd actually been invited.
And when she heard about the Hunters, she couldn't say anything against the idea either.
Simply because Project Fatal Mountain, the secret supplier of military equipment for the equally secret warehouses of the Dominion armed forces, wasn't part of the information that could be used in an argument.
Stark was forced to live a double life.
Officially, she was a businesswoman whose conglomerate supplied individual components, not complete space vehicles, to the Dominion.
Speeders, gliders, armored vehicle repairs, helmets for pilots, infantry small arms, grenades, kinetic ammunition — but the key element of the "official" enterprises' work was spaceborne self-propelled mines, as well as preventive maintenance on Clone Wars-era infantry weapons: blasters, repeaters, rifles, grenade launchers, production of B-1, B-2, BX droids, and much, much more.
Unofficially, Stark, of course, possessed at least approximate information about the specifications with which Fatal Mountain produced the Interceptors, Avengers, Defenders, and other military equipment going into storage.
She couldn't not possess it — she practically listened to detailed reports from her department directors at Fatal Mountain every week.
Reports that featured precise numbers and characteristics of the equipment and weapons.
But if she ever so much as hinted at it anywhere, nothing would save her — not even the fact that her beloved, Jahan Cross, was a special agent of Dominion Intelligence, one of the very few spies who enjoyed what little trust the Grand Admiral offered.
Stark had played the fool right up until Gilad listed the ships' specifications.
And then, with the ruthlessness of a true commercial sand panther, she tore apart any possible argument in favor of creating the Hunter as a replacement for the Interceptor.
Pure psychology.
The Baroness considered her a friend, a fellow businesswoman just like herself.
But, unlike Fina, Ellie was genuinely an excellent specialist who understood the products she manufactured.
Where Fina had delegated the work of her enterprises to managers (who, incidentally, were also competent individuals), trusting only the expert opinions of professionals, Stark was quite knowledgeable about her own work.
But she didn't advertise what she officially couldn't know.
Fina tended to measure people by herself and listen to those she considered authorities.
Ellie Stark was exactly that kind of person.
Lacking competence in technical matters (this wasn't politics, after all, where she was like a fish in water!), she'd brought in a sharper friend.
And when that friend competently summarized Gilad's conclusions, the Baroness backed down.
She was probably inwardly admiring how cleverly and quickly her friend had grasped the issue, processing the new information by ear.
Fina didn't know that Fatal Mountain was precisely the entity conducting tests on Sienar's technologies.
The owner of an enterprise shouldn't need to understand technical matters — he had subordinates, department directors, who were paid well for that.
It was a perfectly commercial approach, one close to the Baroness's heart.
After all, her enterprises were public-private, built for export.
Practically pure commercial activity.
In the military-industrial segment, Thrawn also didn't require leaders to be experts in what their enterprises produced.
Of course, when a factory turned out only Juggernauts or AT-ATs, the manager would inevitably remember the specifications of his own products.
But Fatal Mountain produced over one hundred and fifty different types of serial equipment, armor, weapons, and everything needed for the rear echelons of the Dominion armed forces — holding that amount of information in memory was physically impossible.
Everyone should mind their own business.
The head of a military-industrial enterprise — to accept clear technical assignments and blueprints from the state, organize his personnel to complete the task, ensure logistics, manage military acceptance, and handle routine production issues.
His area of responsibility was the enterprise and its uninterrupted operation.
The objects of the Dominion's military-industrial complex didn't need to develop and design products themselves — that was done by the design and engineering departments at headquarters.
The military-industrial complex was merely the manufacturer.
But the Baroness's enterprises and other public-private concerns were a different matter entirely.
Through their trade representatives and agents in the outer worlds, they not only presented the product line to potential buyers but also accepted individual or small-series orders according to client wishes.
That was for export.
For the domestic market, the same thing happened at the representative offices or company branches within the state.
Thus, Stark had played on her authority as a more experienced businesswoman, simulating an understanding of what was said at that specific moment.
After all, no one was going to tell the Baroness how things really worked, were they?
"You do realize that the Clone Wars-era machines in Dominion depots will run out someday?" Fina asked quietly.
"The depots are almost half empty," Pellaeon revealed, demonstrating his awareness.
Grand Moff Felix had mentioned it at one of the last Triumvirate meetings.
"And the orders aren't getting any fewer," the Baroness continued. "The times are turbulent. People need good military equipment at affordable prices, which we offer them. Once the stockpiles run out, we won't be able to earn anymore, and I'll have to start by cutting workers, and then eventually let them go entirely."
"And for that reason, you decided the best course was to interfere with the work of Dominion Fleet Systems and grab a piece of the pie by supplying the regular fleet with Hunters to replace the Interceptors," Gilad nodded understandingly.
"Tens of thousands of people work at my enterprises. They need to eat, they have families, obligations, and so on," the Baroness continued. "If we lose the work, there'll be problems. Valuable specialists will scatter to other companies, budgets will drain from the sector, and consequently — tax revenue to the Dominion treasury will drop."
Gilad massaged his temples.
"And so, after all those scandals without explanation, you've finally decided to tell me that the Hunter isn't your whim, but a necessity," he stated.
"You weren't exactly forthcoming either," the Baroness snorted. "My corporate spies managed to dig up information about the combat use of the Hunters and other Imperial models over the past years. They ran an analysis and concluded we could build those machines — the enterprise has the margin of safety, we'd modernize where needed. Since DFS doesn't want these machines, I thought that…"
"That I could get the blueprints handed over to you and, as a family favor, lobby for your enterprises to become the supplier of Hunters as the Dominion's main line fighter," Gilad smiled, amused by this simple female logic.
"If you weren't such a cold-hearted block of wood, you'd have helped ages ago!" Fina flared up. "I'm not lining my own pockets, you know. Your mercenaries buy equipment from us too, in case you didn't know!"
"Why would that be?" Gilad smirked. "I know perfectly well. Kavil's Corsairs are among your biggest clients inside the sector. And the Tammuz sector is the largest exporter. Same as the Selkath. Not to mention the Imperials, Corellians, Sluissi, and so on..."
"Sounds like you're keeping tabs on my successes," the Baroness narrowed her eyes.
"I wouldn't say keeping tabs," Gilad scratched his nose. "Just taking an interest from time to time. Monitoring what happens inside the sector is Colonel Astarion's job and his department's."
"Gilad," the Baroness's voice carried no trace of contempt, arrogance, or superiority for the first time. "We can hold out till the end of the year, but after that... I'll have to shut down the enterprises."
As if he didn't know that.
And as if he didn't understand that the terms under which the Baroness stayed alive and in power were very specific.
Instability in the sector, resulting from unemployment at the largest enterprises, was a guarantee that she would soon become useless to the Dominion.
Losing power and influence was terrifying for someone who, due to her clonic origin, was worth nothing without them.
And it pushed her toward the most reckless decisions.
"A pity," Pellaeon sighed, reaching for his tunic and pulling out a high-capacity data chip along with a portable holoprojector. "No commerce for you means you'll have a lot of free time. And you'll be picking at my brains much more often, won't you?"
"It's obvious the stories about your youth are based on real events," the woman smirked. "You figured out from personal experience what happens when we have too much free time, didn't you?"
"That's why I never got married," Pellaeon agreed, connecting the data carrier to the computer data reader. "The cheapest thing for the psyche is the kind of love that doesn't cause discomfort for the participants."
"That's roughly how men explain their reasons for cheating," the Baroness grimaced. "Be so kind as not to say that to my face at least. I don't restrict you in anything. Just do it so that the name of my family, as well as mine, isn't dragged through the mud by your love affairs, alright?"
"'Does she really think I have time for that?'" Gilad thought distantly.
"I propose an honest exchange," he said, noticing the data from the chip had loaded.
"I'm listening."
"You tell me who convinced you to set aside your pride and tell me what's really happening, and I'll tell you how to help your enterprise without investing large funds," Pellaeon offered.
"Sounds too idealistic," the Baroness replied, suspicion in her voice.
"And what do you have to lose?" Gilad got up from the bed and walked over to a nearby nightstand, setting the holoprojector on it. "Well, so?"
"Ellie," the Baroness looked away. "Right before your guards shoved those non-disclosure agreements at us. 'You're family! Open up to him about your problems, he'll help!'"
The last part was clearly a quote.
Judging by the mocking tone, the Baroness hadn't much liked the idea.
Well, no surprise there, given how forced their marriage was.
"That's about what I thought," Pellaeon nodded, activating the device.
Above the tiny projection plate, an image of an Eta-2 Actis appeared. After hovering for a few seconds, it began to break down into dozens of components, each one labeled with technical specifications and data.
Then those components split again.
And again.
And again.
Until, instead of an interceptor fighter, the Baroness found herself looking at a set of virtual spare parts.
"Is that... a schematic diagram?" she clarified, furrowing her brow as she clearly tried to recall an unfamiliar term.
"A complete, detailed manual," Pellaeon clarified. "It's included, along with other documents, in the patent purchase agreement for exclusive rights."
The Baroness's eyes widened in surprise.
"That wasn't cheap," Gilad continued. "But the Dominion bought the patents from the manufacturer and all rights to produce and modify all the small craft that interest us as we see fit. Now you can even build ships that previously you could only upgrade. And, naturally, continue to sell them..."
The next second, he felt a woman's arms wrap around him, and a hot kiss burned his cheek.
Meeting Fina's eyes, gleaming with excitement, a slightly flustered Gilad coughed delicately.
The Baroness — undoubtedly not acting entirely of her own will (even if it wasn't strong, there was still some alcohol sloshing in her system) — lowered her eyes, released her embrace, and took a couple of steps back, looking away.
"I don't know what came over me," she said haltingly, twisting her hands behind her back. "I think... I'm not feeling well."
"I think so too," Gilad nodded in agreement.
The Baroness's lips tightened in annoyance.
"But I'm still grateful to you, Vice Admiral, for what you've done for me, my enterprises, and my workers," her gaze became firm, confident, and now aimed directly into his eyes. "I apologize for... the inappropriate behavior."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Baroness." Since she wanted to speak in an "official" tone, he'd oblige.
These data were actually supposed to be delivered to the sector a bit later, but if there was a perfect chance to shock this capricious bitch and secure himself at least a little peace before the Allegiance departed, why not?
He'd taken Thrawn's tactical maxim to heart: 'Surprise the enemy and you win.'
"I... Ah...?" She seemed at a loss for words.
Chewing her lip for a moment, D'Asta performed a curtsy, then, muttering something about urgent matters, vanished from his room.
Naturally, taking the data array he'd handed her with her.
All Gilad could do was smile.
She'd spend the next few hours dealing with production issues, trying to solve problems herself, then bring in professionals once she realized her incompetence, then conclude that transporting resources from known Dominion mining facilities was expensive, then decide to use the remaining time to set up a full-cycle operation within the sector, reactivating old mines...
In short, he had plenty of time.
He could relax and enjoy himself.
Which is exactly what Gilad, pleased with his small but personal victory, proceeded to do, climbing back onto the bed and turning the sound back on the holographic television.
A news report was just starting about a synchronized swimming competition between teams of Twi'lek girls.
Well, well... It turned out the Baroness wasn't some hysterical alcoholic.
Just a woman who'd gotten her hands on power, but not through the hardest path and certainly not on her own.
Apparently, her father hadn't prepared her for the fact that, as the ruler of a sector, the last thing you need to do to get what you want is throw hysterics.
But constructive dialogue...
Well, perhaps Ellie Stark's appearance at this residence would do one Baroness some good.
* * *
If you judge the Sephi race by their appearance, you could make a grave mistake.
It's human nature to assess an interlocutor by their age, physical condition, clothing, jewelry, and other signs of "respectability."
With the Sephi, it's entirely different.
Across from me sat a woman who, by human standards, could hardly be given more than twenty-five years.
While the search database for surviving Jedi indicated that the Jedi Master Aurelia Meilis was currently over seventy standard years old.
For her race, whose minimum lifespan is two hundred standard years, that's nothing.
You could say she was still biologically young.
But, as with the Chiss, this woman had lived a long time and her development, her experience, her knowledge far exceeded what you might think by looking at her youthful face.
I hadn't missed the fact that the Sephi was carefully hiding her pointed ears beneath her straight, black hair, as dark as the void of space — ears that almost certainly marked her as Arkanian or Sephi in origin.
It could also be concluded that Aurelia had certain genetic deviations that made her significantly different from her race and closer to humans.
The thing was that most Sephi had pale or purple skin, but the Jedi Master's skin was indistinguishable from human skin.
Secondly, the typical Sephi gene set determined their irises to be black or brown.
The Jedi Master's eyes were piercing blue.
Genetic intervention?
Natural mutation?
"My father was human," she broke the silence first, scrutinizing me just as intently.
An answer to an unasked question.
Observant, perceptive, with a sharp mind.
"Not bad," I said. "Though I expected nothing less from a Jedi Shadow, Master Meilis."
Her expression didn't change at all, but there was a barely perceptible movement of her eyelids, as if they intended to narrow but were stopped by a commanding order from her brain.
Excellent.
There was something she reacted to.
The past.
For most Jedi, discussing who they were thirty years ago was a traumatic experience.
For her, though...
"So Mace Windu does truly serve you," she nodded to her own thoughts, not taking her eyes off me.
"We share common goals," I clarified. "He doesn't serve me, but for the good of the Dominion's people."
"Wordplay," she dismissed. "In any case, the Master didn't see fit to keep my secret. I wonder what prompted him to do so?"
"A desire to help in the fight for a righteous cause," I explained.
"Is that so?" Her brow rose almost imperceptibly, showing surprise. "So revealing the secrets of the Order, which he swore to serve, is more effective than stepping out of the shadows and calling all the Jedi of the galaxy to unite under his command?"
"You left the Order," I reminded her. "It's unlikely the oaths of other Jedi still apply to you."
"Hmm," her chin twitched slightly, leaving me to assess the emotional subtext of her statement myself.
"And you are absolutely right," I continued calmly. "Coming out openly with a call to action is by no means the right decision."
"And the issue certainly isn't that a unified 'HoloNet' no longer exists?" the Jedi Shadow clarified.
"Not at all," I confirmed. "Palpatine survived. He is invisibly uniting the Imperial Remnants under his rule and will soon strike from the Deep Core, attacking everyone he considers his enemies."
Her gaze hardened for a moment, but in the same instant, she demonstrated complete relaxation.
"You're telling the truth. At least you believe it," she concluded, folding her hands on the table before her like an attentive student.
"And you didn't need to resort to the Force for that at all?" I asked, stroking the ysalamir.
The little lizard, for a change, had decided not to bask on my legs or doze on my shoulder, but had settled on the cool table.
"In the presence of ysalamiri, it's not so easy to use," the former Jedi Shadow replied. "And... it seems you're not surprised that I know the name of this species?"
"Not at all," I confirmed. "It's entirely possible that an ordinary Jedi wouldn't know of its existence. But a Jedi Shadow isn't quite an ordinary member of the Order."
"You're quite well-informed for a native of the Unknown Regions, Grand Admiral Thrawn," she parried my answer.
And gave a hint that she knew much more about the Chiss than a few dry lines in encyclopedias that few people had even heard of.
The Jedi Archives?
Possible.
Holocrons?
Also possible.
When dealing with a Jedi, anything is possible.
When you meet a Jedi Shadow, even the impossible is possible.
Starting from the time of the Great Hyperspace War, five thousand years ago, the Jedi Order created a secret unit within its ranks — the Jedi Shadows.
Their tasks included finding and destroying any artifacts that might have been hidden, left behind, or lost by the race known as the Sith.
The Shadows operated very effectively.
Making the effort to erase all traces of an entire race's existence took some doing.
But the Shadows did their job.
Their work and determination led to the destruction of Sith amulets, talismans, and other relics that were tainted by the power of the Dark Side.
Their traditional weapon was a double-bladed lightsaber, and among the entire Jedi Order, they and the Jedi guarding the Temple on Coruscant were the ones who constantly wore armor.
Master Meilis's appearance and weapons only confirmed that she belonged to the Shadows.
The Jedi Shadows had, over time, become the same thing for the Order that the Shadow Guard was for me — elite, professional killers.
Their tasks included destroying adepts and manifestations of the Dark Side without the slightest mercy.
Machines of death, trained in uncompromisingly bringing death while the rest of the Order was a center of peace, goodness, justice, and other double standards.
The existence of the Jedi Shadows was a secret of the Jedi Order.
From what I knew: the Jedi Mo, who served under the Great Inquisitor Jerec, who fell to the Dark Side and was searching for the Valley of the Jedi to gain power.
And if you delved into history and the stories about the Order and its structure, according to Mace Windu, a very interesting picture of the Jedi Shadows emerged, shattering the understanding of the typical Jedi image.
They reported to the Council of First Knowledge, which was responsible for seeking, protecting, and increasing Jedi knowledge.
They had many duties, as they also controlled the teaching process for Jedi and many, many other things.
Windu had talked about this when, after the destruction of Exar Kun, the question of the Jensaarai Order's structure became acute.
Everyone who could had voiced their opinion and documented it for further study by me and Saarai-kaar.
The existence of the Shadows, as well as their identities, remained a deep secret inside and outside the Order.
They were provided with the best resources, including intelligence, that the Jedi had.
Often engaged in information gathering, the Shadows were always confident in obtaining all possible data about their target before delivering a precise, decisive strike.
Because of their missions, Jedi Shadows were often known as loners with a black-and-white perception of the world around them.
This could manifest as paranoia, seeing signs of the dark side in everything, including their own comrades.
As such, they were often deployed cautiously and only in times after a major conflict.
The Shadows fulfilled their duty without hesitation and were ready to destroy those they considered evil, but they often showed restraint, understanding that their definition of such enemies didn't always align with the Council's.
Some of their ranks believed that more aggressive action was needed to destroy followers of the dark side.
Curiously, even the High Council of the Order, which Mace Windu had been part of thirty years ago, wasn't informed of the Shadows' identities.
The fact was that the High Council included both permanent and temporarily elected Masters.
The permanent ones, of course, possessed the full scope of information, but the temporary ones...
Who would let those who might leave the tight-knit friendly circle in a few years have access to the main secrets?
But it turned out that even the permanent Council members didn't know all the Jedi Shadows.
Their identities were carefully masked by the Council of First Knowledge, which was subordinate to the Supreme Council.
And they were only revealed in rare cases.
Few of them took part in the Clone Wars — a significant portion were on distant quests and only learned of the Order's fall upon returning many years later.
After which they went into complete isolation and used their skills to remain unnoticed.
Regarding their skills...
And here, Mace Windu revealed something to me that I didn't know even with my foreknowledge.
Jedi Shadows were permitted to study Dark Side techniques to better counter it and its followers.
This revelation put me in a bit of a bind, as it sharply contradicted Isard's account of how vehemently Windu had argued against the wrong approach of teaching Jensaarai Dark Side techniques.
He was covering his tracks, it seemed.
Not surprising that he revealed this to me in private.
And, contrary to his fears, the Jedi Master Aurelia Meilis is a clear confirmation of the fact that a trained will can control the destructive urges of the Dark Side.
Windu knew she had been trained in some techniques from the Sith arsenal, but which ones, he didn't even suspect.
Fragmentation of information as the basis for maintaining secrecy and confidentiality.
As for the ethical side of the issue — the existence of a liquidator unit within an Order of peacekeepers — I wasn't really considering it.
There are always those authorized to do the 'dirty work,' regardless of any principles professed to the public.
"So," I stroked the ysalamir. "What do you want, Master Meilis?"
"Wasn't it you who wanted to meet me, Grand Admiral?" she inquired.
"Undoubtedly," I confirmed. "The Dominion is always glad of intelligent beings ready to serve it. But you didn't fly here to take an oath. Not because you saw Master Bre'ano Umakk's message. And certainly not because I sent recruiters after you."
This time, her eyes did narrow slightly.
"My motives are simple," Meilis stated. "The Sumitra Sector."
A life-affirming and exhaustive explanation.
Though, quite the opposite.
"I'd like a bit more information," I expressed.
The Sephi territory, despite our intelligence operating in sectors located near the Dominion, held no particular interest for us.
Yes, there were worlds rich in resources — both explored and barely marked on galactic charts.
There was no strict unified government — most of the sector was subordinate to the Sephi government on Tustr, but no less than forty percent of the worlds were neutral to one degree or another.
A large number of private military organizations supporting local governments.
We hadn't found any clones among the officials, but even without that, there were constant chaotic shifts in political sympathies among them.
The politicians within Sumitra could be conditionally divided into camps that supported various states of the galaxy.
Except the Dominion.
Those wishing to live in it had long since left the sector, moving to us, so we shouldn't count on the population's support.
"My homeland has seen brighter moments in its development," Aurelia said. "Now, though... After the king's assassination during the Clone Wars, the sector sided with the CIS; the Empire responded with a brutal occupation. Many economic sectors were destroyed or fell under the control of criminals or pro-Imperial puppets..."
What did you expect?
As a result of the war, the enemy's allies get what they deserve just as much as those who started the bloodshed.
Given Imperial vindictiveness — so far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened or been heard.
"...After the Battle of Endor, the sector government came out in favor of joining the New Republic," the Sephi continued. "This caused a sharp division in the sector's political elite, because the successful businesses of some of them, established with and under the Empire, were now under threat. But worst of all was that those who didn't care about the sector came to power. They just lined their pockets while they had the chance. Then came the Imperial counteroffensive; the New Republic abandoned its positions in the sector, and we were occupied once again. At the cost of inhuman effort and great sacrifice, we managed to liberate ourselves without outside help. I led the sector's partisan movement. But as soon as the Empire was driven from our systems, it turned out that the new government was about to make the same mistake as before — to follow the New Republic's lead. We secretly sell them resources, provide their patrols with bases, and so on. All of which presents a new threat of Imperial invasion, because the front hasn't moved that far away from us. Your words about Palpatine only confirm what the Force had vaguely told me. The politicians' short-sightedness has already led to a split in the sector and secret negotiations with the Empire regarding support for their radical supporters during a future attack. The New Republic doesn't want to get involved in what's happening, and the government even less so. We no longer have strong military units, no powerful fleet — only light forces. Our army was shattered during the Imperial counteroffensive, which outnumbered us. The rest serve corrupt politicians. Or have come over to my side."
I had to assume she didn't have very many followers, since she was forced to operate alone at the fuel station, not even with any cover.
"Your politicians are interested in doing business with the New Republic," I said thoughtfully. "And you, as I understand it, represent that part of the elite that wants independence. Since the partisan actions of your small revolutionary army can't produce immediate results, cooperation with the Dominion is an excellent alternative. And also a way for your people to get protection from the New Republic's wrath over a blown-up fuel station and the destroyed star cruisers that were docked there at the moment of detonation."
"The loss of the fuel station and the battle group based in the sector should only slow down, not stop, the New Republic's occupation of us," the Jedi Shadow explained. "Too many credits revolve around our resources. My plan was to carry out a large number of sabotage operations against New Republic facilities and their supporters, in order to make the sector least attractive to the Empire, the Republic, and the Alliance."
"You don't have to continue; I understand where you're going."
The tactic of terror.
Under the leadership of a Jedi.
'How ironic!' as a certain connoisseur of working with secret documents used to say in my past life.
But, strangely enough, the surviving Jedi's resistance to the Empire did boil down to terrorism.
True, the organizers themselves usually replaced it with the phrase 'guerrilla warfare.'
But that doesn't change the essence.
Meilis intended to destroy industrial facilities of interest to the New Republic and the Empire until the cost of their restoration and maintenance became so high that they could no longer turn a profit in the short term.
According to a common misconception, what would make Imperials and democrats step away from a juicy feeding trough?
In the past — yes, it might have worked.
But not now, when some fear the looming shadow of the Emperor, others the specter of inflation.
Everyone needs resources.
And the Sumitra sector, which already has a large number of functioning mining enterprises, is perfectly suited.
The local elite receive hefty commissions for befriending various emissaries and promoting their interests.
And strengthening the New Republic in a resource-rich sector is clearly not part of the Alliance's or the Empire's plans.
Meilis thinks absolutely correctly — the front line between states has stagnated not far from Sumitra.
A competent tactical decision with large forces combined — and Sumitra would fall under the onslaught of superior forces.
You have to understand that the New Republic ships encountered near the fuel station are not so much an occupation contingent as guards for fuel transportation.
"In that case, you understand that our cooperation will be mutually beneficial," the Jedi Shadow continued. "You will help me protect Sumitra and get rid of the corrupt politicians. I, in turn, will pass on to you and your Jedi that knowledge of the Force which only the Jedi Shadows possess. I also promise that, having taken the post of sector head, I am prepared to ensure the Dominion's support using our resources. With your investment in our economy and the sector's development, of course. And respect for our independence."
"An interesting proposition," I said.
I don't even know whether to laugh or cry.
That characterization Windu gave to Jedi Shadows fits what I just heard better than ever.
They are created to destroy manifestations of the Dark Side.
And they are trained in the techniques of the Dark Side.
By the laws of logic, Jedi Shadows, under such conditions, should have destroyed each other first and foremost.
The Master Jedi is offering me exactly the same thing her opponents offered the Imperial Remnants, the Galactic Alliance, and the New Republic slightly earlier.
Resources in exchange for support, including military support.
However, it's unlikely that words about "support and development of the sector" are just a screen for Meilis to get her snout in the trough and change which pocket is being filled.
While Jedi are idealists, Jedi Shadows are radical idealists, with all the consequences that entails.
The problem with her proposal lies precisely in the fact that the Dominion has places to invest money in economic development, and resources…
On our territory alone, there are over one hundred thousand uninhabited worlds known and suitable for mineral extraction.
And there's also the Chiloon Rift, whose resource reserves are virtually inexhaustible for the next few centuries, even with intensive mining of all minerals there.
At the moment, we have limited ourselves to mining known asteroids with precious metals and building a fuel plant, but naturally, extraction will only expand in the future.
The question is, why would I need to get involved in someone else's politics for disputed assets in territory whose population wouldn't even be happy to see Dominion forces?
No, I'm afraid if we send in troops, we'll get bogged down there with all the negative consequences.
"That's not enough," I said. "You want help organizing a coup in a sector that is clearly unfriendly to the Dominion. And in exchange, only promises… I'm afraid that's not what we need. We have no resource problems. And no desire to prop up a ruined economy either. If you were part of the Dominion — then yes, I would be obligated to do it. But a neutral state… We could establish economic ties; trade turnover could inject some money into your economy. However, nothing that could make me send even a battle group your way has been said."
"Are you saying the knowledge of a Jedi Shadow isn't enough?" the woman asked in surprise.
"Absolutely," I confirmed. "Our gifted individuals already have significant information resources, and the help of one Jedi Shadow won't surpass what they already possess."
"From which I draw the reasonable conclusion that you sought me out not to recruit my underground, but to lure me personally," she said, shaking her doll-like head.
"Exactly. The Dominion wouldn't mind elite, trained, already established individuals. You could join our ranks on terms similar to those you had in the Order. Of course, if you agree."
"Something like that doesn't entirely suit me," the woman declared. "I intend to lead my sector out from under the yoke of corruption and lawlessness. Serving you is certainly very honorable, I don't doubt that. However, it goes against my intentions."
As a friend of mine from the patrol boat used to say: "It's a shame, it's a pity, but oh well!"
When he said that last part, he usually waved his hand, making it clear he was actually indifferent to what had happened.
"Well," I made it clear that the negotiations needed to be accepted. I'm sure, after spending a few days alone, she'll understand that her proposal is foolish in itself. It would be easier for her and her subordinates to join us than to fret over the peoples of the Sumitra sector, who have already made their choice.
On the other hand, using this sector, located on our southeastern borders, as a buffer zone is quite sensible.
Considering that the Hydian Way leads to us from this direction, a "pseudo-puppet" state on the approach to the Dominion could easily become an asset for our border security…
"Why doesn't your Delta Squad have a fourth clone of Jango Fett?" Meilis asked unexpectedly.
"Because finding a surviving clone commando isn't currently possible," I explained. "Most died in the Clone Wars, or from old age."
"Maybe so," Meilis's eyes gleamed mysteriously. "Or maybe they're being held in a secret Imperial prison, arrested by the Imperial Security Bureau on suspicion of disloyalty to the Empire. They were frozen in stasis, so those guys have hardly aged — some of them have been there since the end of the Clone Wars or a little later. And as it happens, before meeting you, I was thinking of visiting there and freeing the poor souls before the New Republic got to that prison. Maybe you don't know, but they are actively conquering the sector where that prison is located…"
I looked at the chronometer.
There was still time before Mr. Ghent's arrival.
"Well," I scratched the ysalamiri behind its ear. "It seems you've managed to pique my interest. I'm all ears."
A triumphant, satisfied smile appeared on the Sephi's lips.
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