"Master Rancisis's fleet will attack the Separatists the moment they're occupied with landing troops," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, pointing at the holographic depiction of the battle. "They won't be able to conduct a full landing and defend themselves against our ships at the same time. Knights Secura and Tsui Choi—you will lead the first fighter element. My Padawan and I—the second. Both squadrons will shoot down the droid landing craft without getting drawn into the fight in orbit. All other Jedi will defend Kamino on the surface."
"Does that make sense?" the blue-skinned Jedi Master Tsui Choi asked skeptically. "Won't the shields protect the city from bombardment?"
Before Kenobi could answer his fellow Jedi, another Jedi spoke.
"Tipoca City and the other cities are vulnerable to attack from the surface," a knight in dark gray armor said in a tired voice.
Obi-Wan thought with reproach that of everyone present, he was probably the one who knew the least about the last Jedi to arrive to help defend Kamino. Yoda had sent him at the very last moment, casually mentioning that the Jedi had returned from a long journey that ended with the Order regaining a valuable find. Kenobi didn't recognize his face. Still, he was traveling in the company of Aayla Secura. During the flight to Kamino, Kenobi had noticed that the two of them seemed to be friends.
Meanwhile, the knight went on.
"There will be a gap between the arrival of Master Rancisis's fleet and the start of the droid landing. It's enough time for the Seps to drop a decent number of droids on us. The machines will pass under the energy shields with ease and turn the surface into a bloodbath," he pointed to several spots on the surface of the Kaminoan cities. "If we had heavy guns, we could place them on these platforms and seriously bloody the Confederates right at the start…"
"Master Yoda appointed Obi-Wan to command this mission," Anakin said, as usual not holding back. "That means he knows best what to do…"
With a smirk, the knight jabbed a finger at the hologram.
"Remind Master Yoda of that when the Separatists destroy the interceptors' hyperspace rings and we can't even pursue them…"
"Knight Dougan," the hologram of Oppo Rancisis flickered several times, as if the Thisspiasian had personally felt the Lan Nikto's irritation. Kenobi mentally rolled his eyes. Of course. Rik Dougan. The knight who had used an unknown dark-side technique on Geonosis, after which he underwent a long rehabilitation. Rumor had it that on the eve of his assignment to a sector army, he ran from the Temple, claiming visions from the Force. Whispers of his betrayal spread through the Temple—just like the whispers about Quinlan Vos, whose hologram hovered beside Rancisis's volumetric figure.
So Dougan's return to the Temple—along with a trophy, the holocron of the ancient Jedi Ulic Qel-Droma—quieted the rumors. It was from that holocron that information had been drawn that could help destroy the Dark Reaper. True, by the time the holocron was delivered, the Sith weapon had already been defeated by him and Anakin. Still, the Council appreciated the Jedi's contribution to the Order's cause and simply ignored the fact that he'd left without authorization. Although Obi-Wan had heard rumors that it wasn't that simple, and that Dougan had actually been acting on Yoda's orders. But those were just rumors that circulated among the Padawans. Need to listen to Anakin less, Obi-Wan decided. For some reason, Anakin disliked Dougan. Dougan, for his part, reined in the overbold Padawan with cold indifference.
"Our fleet is strong enough to keep the Separatists from slipping away," Rancisis assured them. "So I suggest you pay more attention to the ground operation."
The knight nodded silently to the Master and hurried back to his seat, where Obi-Wan caught sight of him receiving a light elbow to the ribs from a Twi'lek woman.
"Perhaps if you weren't wearing such expensive armor," Anakin threw after the knight, "you would focus on the task assigned to you."
A smirk appeared on Dougan's face.
"The armor isn't for looks, Padawan," the knight emphasized the last word. "Thanks to it, my limbs will stay attached if Count Dooku happens to cross my path."
In that same moment, the briefing room in Tipoca City nearly filled with the sound of igniting lightsabers. Obi-Wan saw Anakin clench the hilt of his lightsaber until his metal fingers creaked.
The Kaminoan representative at the briefing—Taun We—looked from one Jedi to the other. It seemed something terrible was about to happen…
"Exhale, Skywalker," Dougan said unexpectedly as he rose to his feet and headed for the exit. "The guests have arrived."
A second later, an alarm signal spread through the city's corridors.
"The Separatists are in orbit," Taun We noted, pointing at the red images of the enemy ships.
"Now we'll have some fun," Anakin said with a grim smile as he left the room with the other Jedi.
A couple of seconds later, only Obi-Wan, Taun We, and Rancisis's hologram remained in the briefing room. The Thisspiasian shook his head sympathetically and cut the transmission.
Obi-Wan felt the Force whisper to him that the consequences of today's quarrel would echo loudly in the future.
***
Throughout the war, the planet Kamino would be of strategic importance to the Republic. This was where, like hot pastries out of an oven, the Kaminoans churned out Republic clone soldiers—the backbone of the Republic's army. Like Rothana, where Acclamators and the Republic's ground hardware were built in massive numbers, Kamino was the Republic's Achilles' heel. Capturing or destroying the cloning centers on Kamino would inevitably lead to the Republic's collapse.
Because the ranks of the CIS army consisted mainly of droids—factories the Confederates could produce by the millions per hour—the Republic's enemies held an enormous advantage. And the planned strike at Kamino was meant to put a definitive end to the Republic's prospects in the war.
That might have happened, if the Confederacy hadn't been a toy in Darth Sidious's plans. He had no need for a CIS victory. A sudden defeat of the Republic would not allow the Sith to achieve their ancient goal—the extermination of the Jedi. Palpatine conceived the Clone Wars so as to stretch the Jedi thin across the galaxy, to blind them with their faith in the clones' obedience. The Sith was simply waiting for the moment when the blow would cause maximum damage to his ancient enemy. And considering that in the first two months of the war nearly a hundred Jedi had died—from Masters to Padawans—his plan was proving quite effective.
Because the battle was meant to end in a Republic victory, the Sith ensured that Quinlan Vos learned of the coming Separatist armada—Vos being a Jedi who, within the CIS, played the role of either a double or a triple agent. It was from him that Jedi Knight Aayla Secura had very recently received information about the impending attack and passed it on to the Council. The Council got thoroughly worked up and pulled in all clones available and a good dozen Jedi back to their homeworld: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Aayla Secura, Oppo Rancisis, Tsui Choi, and many others. Among them was me.
Of course, I understood I was headed into a meat grinder where droids and clones would tirelessly and mercilessly slaughter one another.
But, to be honest, I didn't think my first assignment would be Kamino. I got there aboard a hitchhiking Acclamator transporting yet another reinforcement batch to the planet.
The starship was a typical representative of its class: seven hundred-something meters long, two hundred tall. A class 0.6 hyperdrive. Twelve quad turbolasers. Twenty-four laser cannons. Four proton-torpedo launchers. Seven hundred crew. Sixteen thousand clones as cargo. Nothing my ships couldn't handle.
Striding across Tipoca City's metal walkways, I slowly, unhurriedly—just as Kira had taught me—filled my body with the Force. I let it flow through my veins, saturating my muscles with energy, relieving tension, preparing them for battle.
My earlier fears about being unfit as a Jedi were behind me. Although my training under the Emperor had only begun, absorbing Kun's spirit had allowed me to make a qualitative leap in my development.
Niman, which the body's previous owner had only used in a stunted way, began to reveal its full potential to me as I gradually mastered the knowledge of the prior Dougan. Hearing that after Geonosis many Jedi had begun retraining from Niman to other forms, I could only smile.
The diplomatic form. Sure.
No one knew how long ago, the prototype of the sixth form had been created by the royal machetero of the Kashi-Mer dynasty and named after the local pantheon of gods. And, it must be said, the "diplomatic" style appealed so much to the authors of the First Jedi Schism—the Legions of Lettow—that they adopted it. Having overwhelmed their former brethren with sheer numbers, the Jedi took Niman and made it the so-called sixth form. After the invention of the lightsaber, it was on Niman's base that the Sith and Jedi of old explored the possibility of using a second blade. However, only a few of them managed to use that style as their primary one, rather than as "a second sword supporting the first." Millennia of evolution turned Niman into a one-blade fighting stereotype, and Jar'Kai into its dual-wielding counterpart. Though Jar'Kai is also its own style, with roots no less deep than Niman's ancestor.
I got distracted.
The point was, after Ruusan most Jedi warriors—those who could prove with deeds, not words, that Niman wasn't a toy for the dim—died. Those who remained either didn't know Niman as well, or studied from whatever holocrons were left. And learning from a primer without an experienced teacher is a pretty thankless task.
That's why this unfortunate Niman suffers—because nobody understands it.
Except Exar Kun. He had studied Niman inside and out, both with one blade and with two. That's why absorbing his spirit gave me an undeniable advantage over all my opponents in fencing.
And in general, over a month of roaming the Outer Rim and Wild Space, I'd become fairly seasoned in both lightsaber work and the use of the Force.
Daily sparring with Malgus and Kira, diving into the subtleties of combat use of both sides of the Force… Rituals and practices…
It must be said, it all began from the moment I chopped apart the former Jedi frozen in carbonite in the trophy vault.
Jaesa Willsaam, the owner of a rare gift for sensing a being's true nature. Valkorion explained that once the girl had been useful to a Sith who held the title of the Emperor's Wrath, but after his betrayal the Emperor's servants tracked him down and destroyed most of the traitor's companions. Jaesa, cornered by the Nathema zealots, surrendered, appeared before Valkorion, and was placed in carbonite.
There, on the station, after sending Kira and Malgus out of the vault, I pointed at the fallen Jedi woman's remains.
"How many of them are in your stashes? Why did it have to be necessary to freeze Kira? Malgus?"
"There are exactly as many of them," the Emperor snapped, "as are needed to kick the ground out from under my enemies' feet. You don't realize it now, but later—after you live a few centuries—you will understand that admiring the distorted face of the one who ruined your plans is not a mental disorder."
"But you didn't have this vault," I narrowed my eyes, "before the Voice was killed in the Dark Temple."
"I didn't," the Emperor confirmed. "But when Arcann and Thexan brought me Malgus frozen in carbonite, I couldn't deny myself the pleasure of assembling the full collection."
"The full one?" I clarified. "You kidnapped and froze everyone who went against your will?"
"Oh no," Valkorion smiled. "Those I destroyed. But those who helped them ruin my plans—like how Kira enabled the Hero of Tython—I brought here. She was brought here after my death, so I hadn't finished conditioning her yet," the Sith admitted. Looking at me, he said, "Because you like her defiant nature, don't you, apprentice?"
I preferred to keep silent then. And there wasn't much to say.
The Emperor gestured for me to follow. We walked along the carbonite slabs until the Emperor stopped in front of one of them.
"Nadia Grell," he explained, naming the figure sleeping humbly in a long-lived slumber. "A Sarkai who helped a Jedi disrupt my plan to destroy the Jedi Order and shatter the Republic. After the Eternal Empire's invasion, Thexan personally finished the Barsen'thor on Tython. He watched as, one by one, my people killed his allies—his companions. And when the famed Jedi Consular teetered on the edge of madness, Thexan sent him into the Force. Nadia and her small child were brought to Zakuul," a smirk played on the Emperor's lips. "I drained every drop of life from the child while Nadia—cut off from the Force—slowly sank into stasis."
"Mandalorian Shae Vizla," the Emperor indicated a red-haired girl in Mandalorian armor frozen motionless in metal. "'Mandalore the Avenger.' I noticed her generalship after she and her warriors helped the Hero of Tython capture the droid—the key to the entire Eternal Fleet network. This one didn't even need persuading," Valkorion said solemnly. "She saw the Republic mercilessly destroy defiant worlds. The Alliance she helped create fell. The Hero was unable to protect his allies… She agreed to join me for the chance to watch the Jedi Temple burn again, and Sith fighters dominate the skies over Coruscant…"
"Togruta Ashara Zavros," Valkorion pointed to the next slab. "Companion of Darth Nox…"
"But he's on the Dark Council," I remembered. "Your loyal ally…"
"His loyalty lasted exactly as long as he himself remained in power," the Emperor cut in. "Only he and the Hero of Tython earned my respect. Only them could I see at my side. But the scion of Kallig turned out to be far less farsighted than the Jedi."
"You killed him?" I asked.
Valkorion shook his head. Disappointment ruled the Emperor's face.
"He escaped," Vitiate said as if spitting the word. "Like a hunted beast, he hid from my servants, but they managed to track him down. The Eternal Fleet's invasion of Korriban became his end. He took Arcann's arm and damaged his face. But in the end, Thexan and Darth Atroxa killed him and most of his companions."
"Atroxa?" I was surprised. "The Lethan who commanded the Sith forces on Korriban. Arcann killed her."
Valkorion indicated with his eyes the neighboring slab, where the infamous red-skinned Twi'lek woman was frozen.
"Few sentients made the right choice—to join me willingly," he commented. "Atroxa was one of them. Much to Arcann's displeasure—he dreamed of spilling her blood. Well, he tempered his anger by slaughtering Nox's people."
"Didn't Arcann ask you why you were freezing all of them?" I asked in surprise.
"Of course he did," Valkorion nodded toward the next slab, beckoning me. "Where do you think he got the idea to freeze the Hero of Tython instead of killing him?"
By the last carbonite slab containing a frozen being, Valkorion fell silent for a moment, as if admiring the Twi'lek woman's face frozen in time.
"Who is she?" I asked.
"Vette," he explained. "Companion of the Sith who became my Wrath. The embodiment of my will, the executor of my desires."
"And the one who betrayed you," I stated more than asked.
"I promised to kill him last of all my enemies," Valkorion said. "And I kept that promise. I found and personally killed each of his companions before his eyes. Only the Twi'lek managed to escape and hide long enough to join the Hero of Tython. And when he stopped needing her, I thawed my Wrath again. I let him watch as Malgus tortured the girl, over and over, forcing her to suffer. He flayed her skin, cut muscle, and crushed bone. And when she was ready to die—we sent her into bacta. And repeated the torture again. Only when he lost his mind from despair and helplessness, and her will became dependent on my desires, did I allow him to die." The Sith fell silent, sinking into memory.
In my mind, a whirlpool of questions began to spin.
"She cut off his head with his own blade," the Sith answered the unasked question. "Without hesitation, without ceremony, without tears or regret. As befits the Emperor's Hand."
"So that means," the thought struck me, "they were the ones who created all the groundwork I'm meant to realize? You secured their support and used them in those moments of history when they were needed, thawing them at convenient times?"
"Correct," Valkorion confirmed. He indicated the slabs that were empty. "Not all of them survived. Many were killed, or sacrificed themselves for our common cause. Like the agent who carried the virus aboard the Katana dreadnought. I lost most of my agents during the New Sith Wars. But I did manage to acquire one valuable servant."
"I take it," I pointed at the carbonite slabs, "he isn't here? And never was."
Valkorion looked at me approvingly.
"How did you guess?" Interest practically dripped from his voice.
"The callsign 'Hart' seemed vaguely familiar," I explained. "When I looked through your Hands' reports, almost all of their code names stopped appearing after Ruusan. But then 'Hart' appeared. For a thousand years he worked for you. It seemed strange—hardly any species lives that long."
Valkorion smiled faintly at my reasoning.
"And then I remembered," I continued, "that Darth Bane's apprentice, Zannah, wanted to make a Jedi her own apprentice, but he escaped her, taking with him a holocron containing a ritual for transferring one's mind from body to body. And after that, nobody ever heard of that Jedi again."
"Praiseworthy," Valkorion said. "You're right. That is Set Harth. One of the Children of the Emperor who were embedded among the Jedi. Unlike many others, he was never exposed. He became one of the first Nathema zealots and carried out my will for many thousands of years. After Bane wiped out the Sith, I sent Set to his apprentice to evaluate whether she could become my successor. But Darth Zannah proved just as shortsighted as her master. Set deprived her of the holocron so she could not extend her life. In gratitude for his service, I allowed him to transfer his consciousness from an immortal body into a new one."
"You made him immortal?" I was surprised.
Only Scourge had been initiated by the Emperor into the secrets of immortality. Now—Set as well?
"But what about his training in the Order during the New Sith era?"
"And who said he trained with the Jedi after he joined me?" Valkorion smirked. "No—his foot last entered beneath the Temple's vaults more than three thousand years ago. And now he's occupied with resolving the issue of building our fleet…"
I fell silent. It was starting to feel as if I was the extra in this epic. Vast resources, servants, a fleet… What had stopped Valkorion from conquering the galaxy himself?
"You're troubled by something," the ghost noted.
"Yes," I nodded. Pointing at the carbonite slabs occupied by sentients, I asked, "What are we going to do with them?"
"Whatever you please," the Emperor shrugged. "They have fulfilled my will. Now you are the leader. They are your servants. Just speak one well-known phrase to you, and they will kneel before you and carry out your will."
"Tempting," I admitted.
Spotting the main control console, I headed for it and entered the command for a general thaw. With hissing and steam, the slabs began to heat…
"Most of them are Force-sensitive Jedi or Sith," I noted. "Good soldiers, engineers, and pilots would be useful too—we have many ships, and nobody to crew them."
"Ordinary sentients don't matter," Vitiate snapped. "History is written only by adepts of the Force. All others are expendable. Only a handful out of trillions of non-sensitives can be truly useful."
The ancient Sith spoke the truth of this galaxy. Force-sensitives ruled here. Everyone else was just dust beneath their feet.
"How long ago did Set thaw Kira and Malgus?" I asked Valkorion. The Emperor tore his gaze from the sight of sentients collapsing out of carbonite traps.
"Immediately after we departed Yavin 4," he admitted.
"Why?" I asked.
"For the same reason you are thawing these servants," he said. "You need advisors, warlords, executors, spies…"
"By pure coincidence, most of the Hands who survived happen to be women in the prime of life?" I asked with a smirk. "Especially Kira and Vette…"
Valkorion answered with a meaningful silence.
"The flesh is weak, my apprentice," he said after a minute. "You may hold their minds, but if you do not claim their hearts, you will face a fate far worse than Darth Nox's. Remember that when any one of them spends the night with you."
With those words, the ghost vanished, not letting me respond.
For about ten minutes I watched as five women—each beautiful in her own way, and no less dangerous—came to their senses after long carbonite suspension. They rose from their knees, shaking carbonite granules from their clothes and armor.
They asked no questions. With the unhurried efficiency of professionals, they retrieved their weapons and gear from containers built into the slabs' bases. Looking over their heads, I was surprised to see that Kira and Malgus had joined our small gathering. The Sith and the Jedi woman had changed clothes, donning the canonical Sith and Jedi armor I recognized from the game.
Blaster bolts clicked, and lightsabers buzzed to life. There were no familiar reds, blues, or greens to my eye. Sun-colored blades ignited and vanished as soon as their owners checked their weapons.
"Looks like," the red-haired Mandalorian jabbed a blaster at me, "you'd better start talking, boy, before I spank you and send you home to your mommy."
From Malgus came booming, gurgling laughter.
The vocoder turned it into a grinding rasp, making Kira—standing closest—grimace.
I tossed the lightsaber hilt in my hand. I doubted I'd need this room again. None of them knew who I was, or why they should serve me. Fine. A little sparring would be appropriate if I meant to win their hearts.
The rage inside me instantly poured the boiling lava of the dark side through my veins. Letting my blade spring from the hilt, I pointed it toward the Mandalorian.
"Go on, then," I laughed, tracing a figure-eight in front of my face. "When we're done, I'll have a personal assignment for you."
The red-haired beauty smirked as she yanked her helmet down. The jets of her pack flared behind her, and the Mandalore the Avenger lifted into the air.