Chapter 33 - Chapter 33

There was some time before the scheduled meeting, and it had to be spent wisely. Therefore, as soon as the meeting — yet another and meaningless one — with the Council ended, I headed to a part of the Temple well known to me. The creation of a fleet required specific resources that could be obtained, albeit not without difficulty, only here.

Walking slowly through the deserted corridors, I fell into thought.

Slowly but surely, the Plan was gaining momentum.

The program for creating the fleet was ready — it only remained to embody the ships in metal. But that wouldn't be a problem — the New Forge works without breaks. I just need to settle some matters — and there, in Wild Space and the Unknown Regions, a force capable of washing away both the Republic and the CIS will slowly but surely appear. Order in the galaxy will be restored.

The experiment with creating clones in Spaarti cylinders had exceeded all expectations. Malgus, in his usual terse manner, reported on their successful application — clad in the black-and-silver variant of the "Devastation" squad's armor, the stormtroopers were ruthlessly exterminating any resistance in Sith Space. The first contingent of clones for my fleet are quite competently handling the "Rippers" that are to become the line backbone of the Empire's fleet. This is pleasing — the fighters are effective, which means their production should be increased. The "Dark Forces" are in desperate need of crews, as are the new ships. Of course, the clones available on Yavin are insufficient — I should visit Kamino and requisition the remaining twenty thousand devices. Two legions a month… Compared to the number of clones the Kaminoans produce — a drop in the bucket.

However…

Well, it seems I know how to increase the size of my army's second echelon. I just need to time it right and not let Palpatine, the GAR, and the Council ruin everything.

The Council… At the mere thought of that collection of Masters, my teeth began to ache.

No, I had nothing against them — except that they missed the return of the Sith. For a thousand years already. And otherwise — not bad guys. Although it turned out that one of them is no match for an ancient Sith. I wonder who will be inducted into the High Council in place of the untimely deceased Eeth Koth?

It would be interesting to watch a duel between Malgus and Windu. With all his abilities, including the notorious Vaapad, the Korun, in my opinion, is no match for the Sith.

Windu… A damn thorn in the side. He decided to needle me about the "gifts" from the Christophsians. What business is it of yours that people are helping me? Envious that, despite past merits, there isn't a single planet in the galaxy that thanks its savior so generously? You need to work on yourself. Bastard. After he talentlessly wasted an entire fleet of the newest ships in an attempt to de-blockade Ryloth (and I'm not even talking about the hundred thousand clones who died during the collapse of his command), the Korun still dares to object to a free fleet!

And that's only what concerns me personally. What if we assess his actions within the context of the galaxy?

Mace is the second person in the Order — only the word of the Grand Master is more important than his. And what do we get… When Qui-Gon brought Anakin to the Temple, Windu voiced the Council's opinion — the boy would not be taught. For he was many years old.

As if that were news. Master Ki-Adi-Mundi was accepted into the Order with the same violations. And nothing, the guy grew up, he's even commanding an army. And he's allowed to marry — well, that's not relevant, there are demographic problems on his home planet.

Let's get back to the point.

As soon as Jinn died, the Council changed its opinion to the diametrically opposite. Is this a joke? Or is it a tradition? Like, a good guy died, let's fulfill his last will? Maybe I'll write a will just in case: if I'm killed, know the whole deal and don't screw up like last time. An interesting thought, I'll have to think about it.

So, having received Anakin, whose midi-chlorian level is higher than even Yoda's, the Council assigns him as a mentor a yesterday's Padawan whose greatest merit is the first Sith killed in a thousand years. Well, and other trifles.

Council, are you serious? You learn that the Sith have returned, which means — there will be slaughter and finding out whose lightsaber is longer again. You have a boy with extremely high potential, a focal point of the Force. There is a prophecy about balance. And you, instead of entrusting the boy's upbringing to an experienced and well-versed master who has taught more than one apprentice, act like this? For that alone, the Council deserves to be condemned. Obi-Wan, of course, is not bad as a Jedi — one of the best. Но это сейчас. And eleven years ago he was nobody with no name. And he gained his professionalism on the go. What can he teach the boy? To not look at the lightsaber emitter when pressing the activation button?

As a general, Windu… Well, he's no strategist at all, not a Suvorov.

And the end of the war… Forgive me, but it's a circus with bows.

Windu has a unique ability — to see shatterpoints with the help of the Force. In people, objects, animals. And, as I recall from the novelization of the third episode — the Master first applied this ability to the Chosen One only when he was standing a step away from him. While Palpatine, lying on the floor, was pretending to be half-dead.

Think about it! In ten years of training, no one, NO ONE of the Masters pointed out to Obi-Wan that he was failing to keep the boy in line. Despite the fact that it was stated more than once in reference materials that one Padawan or another, or a Jedi, would notice a leaning toward the Dark Side in Anakin. But no one did anything. It feels like the Jedi don't understand the meaning of the prophecy: "The Chosen One will restore balance to the Force." There are only two Sith. There are about ten thousand of you, I don't remember exactly. Didn't anyone's heart skip a beat at the thought that the Chosen One might either help the Sith gain the same number of supporters or reduce the Jedi to zero to match the number of Sith? I don't believe that in the years the prophecy has existed, not a single Jedi has thought about this. Well, the self-preservation instinct couldn't be that much in hibernation!

But stupidity and courage take first place in the Order. Even on Geonosis, my hair stood on end in the most immodest places when I saw Jedi running in the front ranks toward thousands of droids. And little has changed in the time that has passed, to be honest.

But what outrages me most about Windu is the arrest of the Chancellor. No, it's understandable — a Jedi comes, not a minor one, one close to the Chancellor, and reports: he opened up to me, he says he's a Sith. And Windu immediately gets worked up about it, grabs some tough guys, and flies to Palpatine. We know the result — Windu's body wasn't even found.

One wonders, what was Windu smoking when he thought he could just, without any weighty evidence, come and arrest the head of state? The very one who enjoys popularity in the Senate and among the galaxy's population. Palpatine said it perfectly — "This is treason!" And you don't even need to be clever — the Jedi tried to kill the Chancellor. In all times, this was punishable by death. In this case, Windu played into the Sith's hands very strongly. I don't believe, of course, that Palps could have thought this through in advance, but he was decidedly ready for something similar. He didn't lose his head and took advantage of the situation. A clever one, what can I say. Four dead Masters at once out of four. And you can reform the galaxy however you want.

Palpatine.

Another headache of mine. Particularly now. He "got an urge" to conduct operations on Geonosis and Ryloth in the shortest possible time. That this was senators' initiative from the start — I don't believe, not at all. More likely, he masterfully directed everything as always and gave the senators the opportunity to assert their rights themselves. The Chancellor perfectly understood that every single sectoral army was milked dry — there are barely enough forces to hold on in the Mid Rim. His intelligence doesn't earn its keep for nothing, so the Chancellor certainly knew that in the current situation, the only possible option was the ships of the Kamino defense group. I think that if it weren't for my impromptu move, the Sith himself would have hinted at this battle group.

Knowing the history of this galaxy, the answer to the question "And why the hell does he need this now?" is obvious.

In war, there needs to be balance. And against the background of my successes, and by rumors, they've managed to "thump" the Seps in other armies too, Sidious needs to stage an attack on Kamino. The same one led by the as-yet uncaught Grievous and Ventress. If one recalls the plot of the "Clone Wars" animated series, the CIS droids did a good job of trashing the cloning centers and even tried to get hold of Jango Fett's DNA samples.

Of course, against the background of the defeat at Bothawui, Dooku will undoubtedly release the cyborg for this mission. Well, and since I've taken Ventress out of the game, Savage Opress will take her place.

I confess, the Zabrak's strength, the pressure and fury of his attack on Monastery, took me aback. A worthy replacement for the Dathomirian. I think Dooku's new apprentice will rattle the nerves of the Republic and the Jedi. The main thing is for my affairs on Mandalore to go smoothly before he finds his brother and takes over most of the criminal underworld.

Another point — is it worth intervening in events and trying to save Adi Gallia? I liked the Master — like Shaak Ti, she's polite and reasonably proactive. I don't know how dedicated she is to the Order's cause, but that can be found out. Fortunately, Siri Tachi, Obi-Wan's childhood love, survived and didn't die at the hands of a mercenary during the mission to protect the decoder. If Yoda grants my request, then the girl, who was apparently quite good-looking and had a willful character, will fall under my hand.

And I already know how to use her.

For all his blunders, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a very skilled Jedi. The mere fact that he was able to take Vader to pieces already says a lot. And if so, he is either a valuable ally or a very dangerous enemy. And he should be taken out of the equation. And there's no better way than an old love.

At this thought, a smile played on my lips. Obi-Wan's intervention could harm me on Mandalore, where another former flame of his, Duchess Satine, rules. Kenobi needs to be distracted from Mandalore by making him cross paths with Tachi more often. I don't know for whom the Master has greater feelings, but the longer he is torn between two fires, the more he will lose from his sight.

Moreover, if I recall, Tachi often scolded Obi-Wan for his thoughts of leaving the Order. Exactly when they were in love with each other. They say old love doesn't die. Well, it's possible; I'll have to test this assertion in practice.

Fortunately, Kenobi is not such a stubborn fanatic as Windu. The latter clearly has it in for me and definitely suspects something — I've felt Force waves coming from him more than once. The bastard was definitely using his vaunted gift on me — the ability to feel shatterpoints. But he couldn't break through beyond the Light Side concealment I'm used to. I should thank the Sith for such a wonderful invention — in the history of this universe known to me, such a Dark Side spell was used by Darth Zannah to penetrate the Jedi Temple while searching for a way to cure Darth Bane of orbalisk parasites.

I didn't want to irritate Master Yoda. After he gave me a lecture about the Force Concealment I use, I decided not to risk it, so I used the Sith's developments. Still using Concealment to prevent Force users from determining my true strength and affiliation with the Unified Force, I overlaid a masking spell on top of it — and now I appeared to those around as quite an average Light Side adept. There's a cart and a small horse of them in this place. Accustomed to considering the midi-chlorian level a panacea for solving all issues related to the Force and the abilities of its adepts, the Jedi with pathological carelessness wrote off my victories as suddenly awakened tactical talents. There was nothing new in this — to one degree or another, the Clone Wars helped the tactical genius of a good hundred or even more Jedi reveal itself.

Take Rahm Kota, for example. Quite an ordinary, average Jedi. His distrust and bias toward clones is quite justified — the man has some special bugs in his head. But with ordinary people, he's open and a fairly sociable guy. And the fighters of his "Ruusan Insurgents" brigade respond to him in kind.

This unit has shown its high efficiency in a short time — that cannot be argued with. Their losses were minimal, much less than even the 204th Legion, which became my "fist." They had no blind loyalty to the Republic — on the contrary, they hated both sides of the conflict with equal strength. I hope this doesn't lead to a large-scale guerrilla war when my true forces enter the galactic stage.

"Master Dougan," a quiet but commanding address made me immediately return to reality.

Turning toward the source of the call, I was once again grateful for the combination of circumstances that meant a solid mask sat on my face. Otherwise, my unexpected interlocutor would have received excellent food for thought.

Had this meeting occurred at the very beginning of my path as Valkorion's apprentice, I would undoubtedly have panicked. There was no confidence in my own strength then, and Kun's knowledge was not yet one with my own. In such a situation, I could have been read like an open book.

But everything had changed.

Now, before this Jedi in non-standard clothes, so black they seemed to absorb the light around them, stood a confident apprentice of Vitiate, sure of himself and his abilities. And no ordinary Force adept can worry me with the threat of exposure anymore.

"Good evening, Master Kuro," I bowed politely when the woman approached almost point-blank.

Of average height, with a mop of snow-white platinum hair and strict but feminine features, An'ya Kuro, like any girl, possessed her own unique charm. But specifically in this universe, my interlocutor perceptibly gave off an aura of the Dark Side through the Force. To be honest, I knew little about this particular Jedi. Only general points — she was extremely demanding of her Padawans, even cruel. She possessed many extremely amazing Force techniques — she distorted the light around her to become invisible, could pass through solid objects. And even the ability to teleport — all this was contained in a human body from which, it seemed, no threat could come.

However, I was interested enough in the Jedi Order to know about the Jedi Shadows. This narrow, closed, and deeply clandestine group of prominent Jedi reported directly to the Council of First Knowledge and in its activities went to any length to eradicate any manifestation of the Dark Side. Secret agents of the Order of a kind, one of whom was Master Abhira. And what's there to hide — my predecessor in this body was also destined for this fate.

And if in my universe there were constant debates about whether Kuro was a Jedi Shadow, for me it was no mystery. Abhira had mentioned her more than once as one of the most capable Shadows, from whom he himself took an example. Leaving aside her character traits, as a Shadow she is terrifyingly effective. She always achieved her goal — the fingers of one hand wouldn't be enough to list all the Dark Side sects cut down by her without any effort.

"I prefer to be called 'The Dark Woman'," Kuro said dryly, coming alongside me.

"As you wish. To what do I owe a meeting at such a late hour?"

"To nothing. Just walking through the Temple. Recovering from a wound," the woman said calmly.

With a gesture, she suggested walking. Well, I don't mind.

"And you can be wounded?" I smirked. No, seriously. Her Force aura is such that she seems to split planets in two for morning exercise.

"Have your vaunted informants in the Temple not told you about my mission on Devaron?" the Shadow inquired without a hint of irony.

Well now. Information spreads fast. Not more than an hour had passed since my report to the Council, and it was only there that I spoke about the mythical sentients who told me about Siri Tachi's mission, which was to have been her last.

Did she find out herself or did one of the Council members inform her? A nasty feeling that Windu is somehow involved here after all.

"I have no informants in my own home," I countered. "Circumstances just turned out that way."

"Really, Dougan?" The woman raised an eyebrow questioningly. She seemed to know more than she was saying but wasn't going to be completely open.

"Exactly."

"If so, it's regrettable. You haven't learned your master's lessons," she stated. "I can't recall a time when he didn't have his own 'snitches' on some planet. And the Order was no exception, by the way."

"It's not for me to discuss Master Abhira's actions."

"Indeed," the Dark Woman smirked.

A pause hung. We walked silently down the corridor until she finally spoke again.

"Are you aware that Master Windu ordered several new Jedi to be sent to your army? Including me."

"First I've heard of it," and I'm just filled with rage at this fact. Has the green one decided to wash his hands? "I saw him not long ago, and the Master said nothing."

"The decision was made after your meeting. You asked for reinforcements — the Council gives you the opportunity to attract fifteen more members of the Order to your army. Because of my wound, I happened to be in the right place at the right time, so Windu addressed me with an urgent request."

"So that's it. Turns out you're not just walking here?"

"It took you a long time to figure it out. I wonder how you managed to defeat even one Dark Acolyte with such thinking abilities. Not to mention beating Trench twice and dealing a sharp slap to Grievous at Bothawui."

"Skywalker destroyed his dreadnought," I shrugged. "As for me, the loss of such a valuable ship is much more humiliating."

"Incorrect conclusions lead to erroneous actions," she said in a cold tone.

"Apparently, there is some great wisdom buried in this that I don't understand due to a lack of life experience?" Looking at Master Kuro's impenetrable face, I realized that the attempt at a joke had failed.

"Only upon becoming masters do we begin to truly learn," I've heard that somewhere before. Just in a slightly different interpretation.

"Well, then I should thank chance for you being on Coruscant when Master Windu decided to help me."

"You should be careful," she said unexpectedly. "Master Windu is suspicious by nature. I would even say excessively suspicious. At times, this helps him find answers that he would never have reached with his own brain under other circumstances. And it depends only on me whether I join your army or not."

"Sounds like a threat."

"It's a warning, Dougan," Master Kuro stopped abruptly and looked me straight in the eyes. As if the mask on my face meant nothing. "Are you ready to go to the end? Knowing that for this you will have to sacrifice too much? To step over yourself, and after what has been done, you will no longer be able to remain who you were before?"

"I don't understand what you mean…"

My mouth went dry. Does she know? But from where? How is it even possible? Or is she still playing some game of her own. Trying to bluff me, waiting for me to trip up myself?

Fucking shadows!

"You're a clever fellow," she smiled. In a way that made my skin crawl. "Don't play with me — the fact that I don't say something aloud doesn't mean I don't know it. So, do I need to repeat my question?"

"No need, my hearing is fine," my voice became more serious. I literally felt the danger coming from her. I'm sure she has quite a few tricks in reserve — and in the case of a direct confrontation, years of experience and practice might prevail even over the most powerful Force user. "Peace and order in the galaxy are my priority goal. Regardless of the means of achieving it."

"Do you believe the end justifies the means?" The Dark Woman smirked.

"I'm certain of it."

The Jedi fell silent. Although she was looking at me, it was clear from her detached gaze that her thoughts were definitely not here. If I chose to leave, she might not even notice.

"I need time to settle some matters," the Dark Woman said in the same even and calm tone. "At the most, in a month, I will join you."

"It's a pleasure to hear that, Master Kuro," I bowed respectfully.

"Say that again and I'll drag you through the Temple wall, leaving sticking out only the parts that your admirer will need to comfort herself after once again having her heart broken," the Dark Woman hissed. Did I imagine it, or did her pupils flare with amber light for a moment? Even if so, I didn't notice any changes in the Force.

"Now that is definitely a threat," I stated. "I'll try not to make such slips again."

The Jedi smiled. Like a dead man's smile.

"I would be grateful if you could suggest several candidates for Jedi who would suit my army," why not? She probably has comrades who share her views. And it's not bad to attract them sooner rather than later.

"There are a couple of candidates," Kuro answered meaningfully. "I will contact them as soon as I finish my business. In the meantime, why don't you take a look at Secura? She is an excellent fighter. And she has feelings for you…"

"What makes you think that?" I frowned. No, I personally liked Secura, but what man doesn't like young and sexy girls? But I'm hearing the opposite for the first time. And she never said anything like that herself…

"Well, I heard enough while she was pulling me and Tholme out from under a cave-in on Devaron," a smirk crossed the Dark Woman's face. "You shouldn't throw away such promising personnel. I almost felt sick listening to her tales."

It was clear that savoring the details that put me in not the best position and made me noticeably embarrassed gave the Master great pleasure. Well now. It's clear why her apprentices didn't have a fun time — she's a master of teaching through humiliation worse than the Troll himself. Но если я намерен держать ее под контролем, то спускать подобное не следует. Даже, если она права.

"I will think over your words," and again a respectful nod. Kuro only smiled coldly.

"Since we have clarified everything, Master Dougan, then you should not delay me. Business won't wait."

Without saying goodbye, the Master walked away from me. Proud, undefeated, unique. A Jedi whose abilities could be useful in the future. A person with whom it's better not to be open.

"Master Kuro!" Almost ten meters of empty corridor separated us, so my shout echoed off the walls and reached the Jedi's ears.

She froze in her tracks, then slowly, like the turret of an Estonian tank, turned her head toward me.

If my teacher weren't Vitiate himself, I would have run away from the expression on her face. But now, I honorably met the gaze full of icy flame. And as if nothing had happened, I added:

"Give Aurra Sing my regards," what a pity she couldn't see the slight smile and amusement on my face.

"Certainly," the Master's dry voice was like a snake's hiss. And despite her speaking without raising her voice, I heard her.

After which, she vanished into thin air, leaving me in solitary pride.

"And yet, that bitch got the better of me," I thought, pursing my lips in acknowledgment of defeat in the clash of authorities, and continued my journey.

***

As originally expected, my voyage ended at the Temple warehouses.

Smiling, I remembered how I came here for the first time. Full of desire to get everything necessary for saving my own skin in the future. It's funny that what was received at the warehouses is still lying unpacked in the hold of my Defender. It didn't come in handy, so to speak.

On the other hand, I know exactly what the Nautolan can offer me now. And I will certainly find a use for it. And won't have to clutter up special containers in the sixth sector for years.

However, as soon as I stepped over the threshold of the warehouses, I realized that the Force had once again presented me with a surprise. My intuition whispered it was not at all a pleasant one.

I had never heard of the warehouse manager taking a day off or a vacation. Tasi literally lived at work — it's easy when your modest abode is in the back of the office.

But now the exotic was absent from the workplace. Instead of him, a silver-colored protocol droid was standing behind the desk.

"Oh, greetings to you, Jedi Knight!" it exclaimed, waving its hands. Precise, servo-controlled movements reminded me of C-3PO — the droid assembled from scrap metal on Tatooine by the young Skywalker that now belonged to the senator from Naboo, Padmé Amidala. "I am a protocol droid…"

"Where is the warehouse manager?" I inquired.

With a flash of optical lenses, the "silver" looked me in the face.

"I have been acting manager of the Jedi Temple warehouses for the last two months. If there is anything I can help you with…"

"Where is the Jedi Tasi Gri?" My intuition was nastily whispering to me that this mess was not for nothing.

"Are you speaking of the former warehouse manager whose place I am now filling?"

"Yes."

"He no longer works at the Temple."

"Meaning?"

"That is all the information I have. Can I be of service to you?"

Damn it. Having a droid whose memory can be scanned at any time was not in my plans. I could come to an agreement with Gri — the experience of our cooperation spoke in favor of such an approach. But how do you explain to a droid that I need to take almost ten containers the size of hover-taxis each from the warehouse?

"Well, yes," since circumstances have changed, I need to get used to the new ones. "I need something from the warehouses. Can I go and choose what's necessary?"

"I apologize, most esteemed Jedi, but no. The procedure for obtaining objects from the Temple warehouses has changed. You need to fill out the appropriate forms, after which I will forward them for consideration to the Service Corps, and if your request is granted, service droids will deliver what is necessary to you."

Oh, damn it! Bureaucracy, damn it, in a democratic state! Who would have thought…

"And how long does it take to process a request?"

"From one to three weeks."

"Just perfect," I grumbled. "And what am I supposed to do if you suddenly give me not what I ask for?"

"That is completely excluded! You choose items according to the existing manifest," the droid pointed to a massive datapad. "And after approval…"

"I get it," it's useless to talk to it. And bypassing the procedure like that, right off the bat, won't work either. If you act without a plan in such a case, you can easily get caught. And I don't think they'll just scold me — serious trouble could start. It will be difficult to explain for what purposes I needed the entire supply of low-power lightsaber crystals that the Order has. And I simply can't think of anything legal for obtaining such a huge amount of crystals.

The plan for equipping the new dreadnoughts with cloaking screens was successfully coming apart at the seams.

"Most honorable Jedi, can I be of service to you?" the droid inquired once again.

"No," another solution is needed. And so far, I didn't see it.

Suddenly, a familiar sense of danger touched my perception. I wonder what the hell is going on there?

Without saying goodbye to the droid, I left the room and headed for the opposite part of the Temple. The Force whispered that something interesting awaited me there.

***

The time spent on Coruscant was bringing Ahsoka to a state of despondency.

After the triumphal victory at Muunilinst, the Council had recalled them to the Temple. Her master was gloomier than a cloud — there's nothing worse than recalling a general during a battle. If Obi-Wan, haggard and drawn but alive and well, had not arrived to replace Skywalker, the latter would never have obeyed the Grand Master's will.

During the time spent with her master, Ahsoka had studied him enough not to get under his feet. Skywalker is undoubtedly a brilliant commander, a brave warrior, and a gifted Jedi. And his lessons quite suited Tano.

He wasn't tedious like many instructors at the Temple, didn't seek to give lectures like Obi-Wan every time she slipped up. He taught her through action and personal experience. Which the young Togruta absorbed like a sponge absorbs moisture.

But upon arrival at Coruscant, her master had left her alone, leaving her to pass the time at her own discretion.

At first, she thought she could find something to do by talking to the many Padawans in the Temple. But after a few days, she realized that the students who had lost their mentors were not seeking to talk with the young Commander who had just returned from the front.

It wasn't a feud between those who sat in the rear and the one who led an army to return peace and order to the galaxy. It was just… a wall of misunderstanding had arisen between them.

She was envied. The apprentice of Skywalker himself, and moreover — every day in a war, commanding clones, piloting starfighters or a bomber. She participates in almost every one of Anakin's missions, and they invariably end in success. And the Padawans left on Coruscant are forced to remain far from galactic events, in anticipation that one day a Jedi will appear who will take them under his wing.

And this injustice saddened her much more than the fact that she was not participating in the battle now.

Night was already falling on Coruscant when the girl decided to practice with her lightsaber. Obi-Wan quietly grumbled about her reverse grip on the hilt, Anakin diplomatically tried not to notice such handling of the weapon.

To be honest, her master was little interested in lightsaber training. He, a recognized master of Form V, didn't need to constantly hone his skill in sparring with an apprentice — he did it on the battlefield. Ahsoka, with her Ataru, also generally had enough practice during battles… But hot blood and her background demanded constant practice and honing of skill from the young Togruta.

In addition, she was impressed by Anakin's ability to deflect blaster shots back at the opponent, thanks to which she was gradually weaving Djem So elements into her fencing style. Of course, she was very far from her master, but she tried. At least she spent her time usefully.

The training halls, where Younglings practiced lightsaber lessons during the day, ceased their work after sunset, when the junior Jedi went to sleep.

And so it was all the stranger to hear the hum of a Jedi weapon behind the door of one of the halls.

Realizing that the "Troll" could be free at any time, delighted by the luck that had suddenly fallen upon her, the girl walked briskly toward the sound so pleasant to her ears.

During the day Drallig was excessively busy — the more Jedi died on the battlefields, the more homeless Padawans remained who needed to find something to do. And in addition, the approach to training Younglings had changed — practice had shown that gaps in lightsaber mastery cost Jedi their lives.

However, as soon as she approached the entrance to the training room and the double doors parted, she was forced to admit her mistake. The lightsaber combat instructor was not here.

Instead, there was a girl, looking 14-15 years old, with long curling hair as black as pitch. Clad in gray-and-black armor, she was moving with remarkable speed, dealing dozens of quick strikes to her opponent — a training droid.

They hadn't crossed paths before, so Ahsoka thought it best not to pull the stranger away from the battle.

Moreover, there was something to look at here.

Using a classic forward grip, the black-haired girl was a confident adherent of Ataru. With a practiced eye, Ahsoka was able to pick out several elements of Soresu — they helped the girl go into a deep defense when the droid, as always unexpectedly, went on a counter-offensive.

But there was something else here too. Even despite the armor, the stranger moved very easily and naturally, which told Ahsoka that her physical training was at an acceptable level.

Tano was particularly surprised by several elements clearly borrowed from the Form of Perseverance. Moreover, while for the Togruta such transitions occurred very roughly, for "Curly," as Tano dubbed the stranger to herself, everything came out more smoothly. This indicated that before her was not a yesterday's Youngling, but a well-trained Jedi. And with a perfectly polished fencing style.

Meanwhile, "Curly" performed several sequences ending in the disarming of the training droid. The blade with a yellow beam bounced aside, and the intelligent machine froze. The training program concluded, and the stranger's blue blade disappeared into the hilt. Hanging the weapon on her belt, she finally turned her face to the Togruta and both girls were able to see each other.

"Curly" could be called attractive by human standards. Feminine features, a sharp chin, sensual lips… Her face was vaguely familiar, but the girl could not remember the name. Ahsoka caught herself thinking that she was admiring the stranger. If she were a boy, she would certainly have invited her to the dining hall to snack on sweets and get to know each other better.

"Hi," Tano waved her hand.

"Um… hi," "Curly" was embarrassed.

"You fight well," Skywalker's apprentice praised.

"Thanks," came the quiet answer. "I have a good teacher. By the way, my name is Oly Starstone."

"And I'm Ahsoka Tano," the Togruta responded cheerfully. "Anakin Skywalker's Padawan."

"Heard of you," the girl grunted, shaking her hair. For a moment, Ahsoka felt a note of irritation and dislike coming from her interlocutor. But in the next second, everything vanished. Which made the girl wonder if she had imagined it.

Now she remembered her new acquaintance.

When Master Plo Koon brought her to the Temple, she had seen her new acquaintance several times in the Archives. That one was Jocasta Nu's Padawan. Who would have thought that they could teach something like that in the archives?

Ahsoka herself didn't much like reading ancient texts. Her lively mind perceived visual lessons better, which is why she loved Anakin's teaching style so much. Obi-Wan with his tedious lectures wasn't even close to her master. But Ahsoka never forgot that Kenobi had once made her mentor who he is now.

"Nice to meet you," Starstone responded somewhat coldly. In complete silence, she walked to a bench that stood not far from the entrance. Only now did the Togruta notice a neatly folded black cloak with silver trim hanging there. And something about this piece of clothing seemed strangely familiar to the girl.

"Do you train here often?" An unpleasant pause hung in the air, and Ahsoka, for the first time in all her time spent in the Temple, had met someone who was interesting. Sentients from whom there is something to learn had always been something of an unreachable goal for her. Since, besides Anakin, few could tolerate her assertive character and sarcastic manner of communication, which she, while still a Youngling, had adopted from Master Drallig. After all, how can one not imitate someone who possesses such voluminous knowledge about lightsaber battles. Unfortunately, the "Troll" himself did not wish to see her as his apprentice. And even mocked her when she dared to mention it.

"Every evening," the girl grumbled. She skillfully put on the cloak and by her whole appearance showed that she intended to leave the training hall.

"Oh, I come here in the evenings too," Ahsoka shared. "Actually, I came earlier than usual today. Probably why we haven't met here before."

"Maybe," Starstone uncorked a bottle of juice and took a big gulp. "If you don't mind, I'll go," the girl checked her chronometer.

"Yes, of course," Tano said distractedly, letting the girl pass by her.

But as soon as she had moved away a few meters, the Togruta quickly caught up with her and walked alongside.

"Do you mind if I go with you?"

"You were going to train," the girl caught the note of irritation coming from her new acquaintance. Stronger than the one that had struck "Curly" when they met.

"Oh… later," the Commander waved her hand. "Anyway, my Shien and Ataru sequences come out crooked. Not like yours…"

"Doesn't your teacher help you achieve new things?" Oly was surprised.

"Not that…," Tano hesitated. She didn't want to lose face before her new acquaintance. Especially when you're the apprentice of the "Knight Without Fear" himself. "My mentor believes that self-study is the best way to achieve new things."

"Mine holds to other principles," Starstone shrugged.

"And Anakin keeps saying not to lose my saber," the Togruta said crossly. "Keeps saying 'This is your life, Ahsoka'."

Oly giggled quietly. Yes, the situation is funny. If Tano hadn't given her mentor reasons. And judging by the ease of her new acquaintance's behavior — that one didn't become a victim of such incidents.

"You have interesting armor," she noted, to change the subject of conversation.

"Yes," the girl nodded. "Master believes it's useful in battle."

"And I prefer freedom of action in battle," Ahsoka said boastfully. "I hate it when something restricts movement. No, of course, armor is useful," she added hastily, afraid that she might scare off her interlocutor. "Master Skywalker and General Kenobi also wear armor elements. But to completely…"

"I don't wear a helmet," Oly admitted. "It restricts vision, despite the fact that it has a lot of electronics that compensate for the shortcomings."

"That's right!" Ahsoka exclaimed. "I know one Jedi — he walks around in armor from head to toe. Of course, one shouldn't talk like that about good warriors, but this one is just an unbearable type. Acts as if he knows everything in the world and nothing matters to him. He annoys me so much, though we've only seen each other once."

"I know one like that too," Oly said evasively. Ahsoka, happily discovering that they might have something in common — even in the topic of discussing another Jedi, continued with joy.

"Master Skywalker doesn't like him much either," she reported, appealing to the fact that her opinion was similar to the position of a senior and more experienced Jedi. "He says he can't stand types like that. You know, my master spent his childhood on Tatooine and says that as a little boy he often put types like this Jedi in their place. Well, you know, he'd knock them to the ground and pour sand down their collars. I don't know what it's like, but I think it's very, very unpleasant."

"Your master was a bully," Oly smirked.

"I think he hasn't changed a bit," Ahsoka admitted. "He's so cheerful, we're constantly joking with each other. I don't know what it's like for the apprentice of that know-it-all, if he has one, of course. I'm sure that if the Council allowed such a thing, then the first thing the student of that Jedi should learn is humility and patience."

"Why do you think so?" Oly was surprised.

"How else can you tolerate such an arrogant person?" Both girls burst into cheerful laughter.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka didn't notice how during the friendly conversation both Padawans had reached the entrance to the spacious Temple dining hall.

"Like to have a snack before bed, huh, friend?" Tano couldn't resist teasing her new acquaintance.

"A little," Starstone said somewhat embarrassedly. "But actually, my master and I often have dinner at this time and talk."

"Do you lack time during the day?" Commander Tano's eyebrows shot up.

"We almost don't see each other," Oly admitted with a sigh. "Master spends all twenty-four hours in worries."

"How I understand you," Ahsoka nodded sympathetically. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that in the far part of another corridor leading to the dining hall, several Jedi had appeared. "As soon as we arrived from Muunilinst, Anakin has been constantly busy talking to the Council."

"My teacher was in a meeting with Grand Master Yoda today," Oly said quietly. "And in the evening he has another meeting. With Chancellor Palpatine himself."

"No kidding," Ahsoka drawled in surprise. "Anakin also often meets with him. Wait, is that him going into the dining hall?"

Looking closely, the Togruta regretfully stated that her master was absent among the members of the Order she had noticed in the corridor. However, among the approaching Jedi, the girl noted Knight Aayla Secura walking slowly in their direction, in the company of the archivist Jocasta Nu. Who was conversing with…

"Remember I told you about the Jedi my master and I don't like?" she asked in a significantly quieter voice.

"Of course," Oly frowned. "What is it?"

"There he is," the Togruta gave a barely noticeable nod toward the trio of Jedi who were already within a few dozen meters of both Padawans.

"Aayla Secura?" Starstone was genuinely surprised. "But she's so sweet and kind…"

"No," Ahsoka grimaced in annoyance. "Master Secura is generally the best of all I know. After my master, of course," she added hastily. "We fought together on Maridun — she did a lot then to keep my master alive. No, I mean the one who is now talking to your teacher…"

"Master Nu?" There was not only surprise but also slight anger in Oly's voice. Ahsoka noted this, as well as the fact that the girl again hadn't understood her. Meanwhile, the trio of Jedi had approached closely enough to hear their conversation. Therefore, she switched to a whisper.

"No, that third one, the one in armor. Such a nasty type…"

"Master Dougan," Oly identified her guess in a normal tone.

"What a dunderhead! He heard everything! There, he's definitely coming to us. Well, we're definitely in trouble. Oh, if only Anakin were here, he would show this buckethead!"

"Good evening, Padawans Tano and Starstone," the voice from under the Jedi's helmet sounded muffled, but clearly cheerful. The archivist and the Twi'lek, after politely greeting both girls, walked together into the dining hall.

"Hello, Master Dougan," Ahsoka answered in the most innocent voice she could manage.

"Good evening, Teacher," Oly greeted in a calm tone, bowing slightly before the man.

"What a Hutt!" Tano swore mentally, meeting the eyes of her friend, on whose face it was clearly written that she had certainly understood whom the Togruta had been talking about for the last half hour.

"Now I'm definitely going to be punished," the Togruta said resignedly, in anticipation of trouble.

***

After politely parting from the archivist, Aayla looked with her eyes for a suitable table and, choosing one not far from the entrance, sat on a chair, waiting for company.

After the mission on Alzoc III, when she and Bly had recovered a data recorder from a crashed CIS frigate, she had returned to the Temple to report personally on what had happened to the Council. Bly, like other fighters of the 327th, had departed for their deployment location. As before, the Star Corps once again found itself far from Coruscant. Although many other units of the Grand Army visited the capital, Secura's unit "was unlucky." Their home was always the Outer Territories, where the clones subordinate to her ruthlessly crushed the enemy.

Just this morning, she had reported on the operation to Master Windu and could fully exercise the right to a few days of rest — a rule introduced by Master Rancisis after the defeat of Republic forces on Jabiim. Tired and drained, the Jedi could finally rest after their missions. Of course, the clones didn't even dream of such a luxury. Any breaks in the fighting they spent receiving reinforcements or conducting endless training. The soldiers created on Kamino didn't know what rest and free time were. Their life was war, and they desired nothing else. No matter how much Aayla tried to convey this to them.

Well, the free time turned out to be very opportune.

Learning that Master Dougan was also in the Temple, she rejoiced.

They hadn't seen each other for several months, and since then, the Twi'lek hadn't even been able to talk openly with anyone. Luminara, whom she had wanted to take with her to Alzoc III, turned out to be unavailable, stuck in a battle on Nexus Ortai. After all, had they been together, they probably would have been able to kill that mad Zabrak with the vibro-ax who fell on their heads during the raid on the frigate. Many fighters died, and admittedly, Aayla herself was on the edge. If Bly hadn't grabbed her and carried her away on a jetpack, she could have died. Like all those clones who stayed to protect her retreat.

It was disgusting and bitter from such a rescue that turned into the death of an entire squad. And Bly's words that the soldiers made this sacrifice to save their commander could not be a sufficient argument. Yes, the clone commander is right — they all could have died there. But perhaps at the cost of self-sacrifice, she would have managed to rid the galaxy of Dooku's new weapon.

In the Temple, only the very young Jedi were not discussing the new CIS assassin. The Zabrak, before meeting Aayla, had apparently managed to pay a visit to Monastery, recently retaken from the CIS. The result was sabotage of the Separatist communication system and the death of many clones. The bodies of three Jedi had already been brought to Coruscant, and the farewell procedure would soon take place.

And among these truly nasty news — meeting Dougan was like a ray of light in the impenetrable darkness. It cost the girl great effort not to contact him immediately as soon as she learned of his presence on the planet. First, she waited for the conversation with her friend, and only then set her comlink to the familiar frequency. Rick was also glad for the conversation and suggested meeting. Naturally, she answered with agreement.

On the way to the dining hall, they were joined by Master Nu, who complained to both Jedi about her new Padawan. Rick noted that the former one also didn't stand out for diligence and a submissive character. Jocasta related with sadness in her voice that she still hadn't been able to find the off switch on Starstone.

Aayla was very surprised when she met Rick's Padawan with Ahsoka near the dining hall. Not that she wasn't glad to see them… But, to be honest, she hoped that she and the man would have an opportunity to talk in private.

The Twi'lek was perfectly aware that she was crossing permissible boundaries, but she also couldn't do anything about herself. She had managed to exchange a few words with Luminara, whom she trusted with her most secret thoughts without reservation. Including those about her infatuation with Vos and Fisto's gentle courtship. And about Dougan's unshakable character, which stubbornly refused to notice that he had interested the young Jedi Knight.

Luminara, upon whom the care of the 13th Sectorial Army had fallen during Dougan's absence, still found a little time to share secrets. She patiently listened to her friend. She was silent for a long time. And then, as if remembering something, she advised her not to put on an act.

"If you want advice, Aayla, then talk to him openly," the Master shared her wisdom. "I don't know what his answer will be, but you will definitely stop tormenting yourself with uncertainty."

"You certainly know how to support someone," Secura frowned. "I almost died of shame when I found out that the Council became aware of the kiss with Fisto. Master Windu himself gave me a lecture. And after all that, Kit has the nerve to say that he was simply saving my life!"

Unduli's hologram rolled its eyes.

That story had managed to cause quite a stir. During the battle for Kamino, Aayla managed to expose a double agent among the Kaminoan scientists. The latter had set battle droids on her, which almost cost the Jedi her life. Wounded, she fell into the ocean and, exhausted, had no chance of swimming out. But Fisto came to the rescue. The Nautolan could breathe underwater and, through artificial respiration, was able to fill Aayla's lungs until she rose to the surface. Of course, there was nothing reprehensible in saving a comrade, even in such an extravagant way.

Had the moment not occurred after her lover, Quinlan Vos, had defected to the CIS. Master Fisto possessed a rare skill — he could read Lekku language, which allowed him to take advantage of the situation and get closer to Aayla. And only the bitterness of parting with Vos had prevented her from stepping over the Code, for which she was already mentally prepared. And Fisto saw it. Oh, treacherous Lekku language! Like human body language, it betrayed the Twi'lek's most secret desires. And he was ready to take advantage of it…

Aayla only told her friend that Fisto wasn't just breathing oxygen into her lungs. It was a real kiss. Full of passion and desire. And, what is most shameful — she yielded to her nature and reciprocated.

But her mind turned out to be captivated by Rick Dougan. She still hadn't found the strength to explain herself to Fisto, and he still waited for a reciprocal step from her. Which she could no longer make.

She never managed to find out who revealed the secret. But rumors began to crawl through the Temple that the kiss had a continuation. And if Fisto was only hinted that he shouldn't violate the Code if he couldn't keep everything a secret, then a real bloody execution awaited her. Master Windu was never famous for patience and tactfulness. He scolded the Twi'lek like a little girl, which made her feel ashamed every time she remembered it.

"You can take my word for it," Luminara assured her. "Dougan knows how to keep secrets no worse than I do."

Aayla was a bit taken aback. Her uninhibited mind painted pictures of intimacy between her friend and the object of her infatuation, which she immediately tried to forget. She was not ready for such a thing. But she also couldn't hide from her friend... She had probably never heard such healthy laughter from Unduli.

"No, friend, you're clearly wrong here," the Mirialan said, wiping away tears from laughing. "Nothing of the sort."

"Then why did you think…?"

"Did you completely freeze your brain on Alzoc III?" The Mirialan frowned. "Naturally, they spent several nights together. Though, I haven't seen them for a long time. It seems he freed them."

Aayla turned red. Born on Ryloth, she knew perfectly well what it meant to be a Twi'lek. And what was included in the duties of masseuses.

"And…?"

"Are you completely out of it?" Luminara asked, her voice slightly lower. "Naturally, he spent several nights with them. I haven't seen them in a long time, though. It seems he freed them."

"Well, yes," Aayla smiled awkwardly. "Thanks for the talk, Luminara. And for the advice."

"Don't you dare be despondent," her friend gave her a final charge. "Be sure to talk straight. Really, can you be worse than two slave girls?"

And so, instead of a talk in private, Dougan first lingered for a conversation with the Padawans, and now, in the company of both, was walking toward her table. Just great, Rick! Understanding, you say, Luminara? Doesn't seem like it.

Meanwhile, the Jedi Master and the two apprentices well known to the Twi'lek settled at the table. The man sat across from Secura, his back to the entrance. His Padawan took the place on his right hand. The small Togruta settled to the left of the Twi'lek. Noticing that everyone had settled, Dougan gestured to the waiter droid.

"So, what will the beautiful ladies order?" the impenetrable mask inquired, looking at each of those sitting at the table in turn.

Aayla stopped her choice on a light dinner — despite everything, she preferred not to overdo it with calories. Code or no code, one should watch one's figure. She is not just a Jedi, but an attractive sentient.

"I will too, probably," it didn't escape Aayla that the Padawan, pursing her lips, cast an envious glance at her. The Twi'lek only sighed mentally. Natural sexuality was an innate trait of the women of her people. But the toned body, although it came to every young Twi'lek, in the case of this particular Jedi Knight was the result of merciless training and fairly strong food restrictions.

By the standards of her people, Aayla had not yet reached the prime of her beauty, but she also didn't intend to let herself go so that in a couple of decades she would lose what nature had awarded her. Unfortunately, many women, even Jedi, were envious of her figure — such is the nature of all representatives of the fair sex, regardless of race and species.

"And Alderannian ice cream for me," hearing the order of Skywalker's apprentice, Aayla couldn't suppress a smile. "Snips," as Anakin called her, never restricted herself in anything. Simply because youthful zeal didn't see the point in it.

"Well, and I won't refuse stewed Nerf," Rick voiced his preference. As soon as the droid rolled away from their table, the man folded his armored hands on the table and looked at Skywalker's Padawan.

"So, Ahsoka, what are you going to be punished for?" he inquired naturally.

Aayla mentally rolled her eyes. The girl had been up to something again? What's with the Padawans these days?

Oly almost blew the flight to Ilum, Ahsoka also isn't famous for a calm temper. So how are they supposed to grow into a worthy next generation?

"I… er… well, I didn't speak very tactfully about a Jedi," the Togruta's face was flushed. Although, Aayla herself thought such a thing was impossible — after all, Skywalker's apprentice's skin was orange-red. And such body reactions should not have been visible.

"About a Jedi?" Dougan was surprised. "If it's not a secret, about whom, and what did they do wrong?"

"C-c-can I not say?" The girl was completely abashed. And it seemed the situation had smoothed itself out, but then the man's own apprentice intervened in the conversation.

"She was talking about you, Teacher," there were sparks of triumph in Oly's eyes. It seemed the girl was deriving some pleasure from the fact that another Padawan had gotten into such a situation. "Ahsoka said she doesn't like you because you're a know-it-all, unbearable, and act in a way that annoys her."

Along with the Code, there were various kinds of generally accepted traditions among the Jedi — dogmas that the members of the Order sacredly adhered to. These included the ban on creating a family, owning one's own property, entering into intimate relations with other Jedi… Yes, to speak openly, creating families in principle was not encouraged. But, as such, these customs were not a categorical ban, and many Jedi violated them. But they tried to do it in a way that such a thing was not publicized. Otherwise, the culprit faced an instructive meeting with the Masters. And there were cases when Jedi were expelled from the Order for violating customs.

A respectful attitude toward each other was almost the basic commandment of the Order. In essence, any Jedi could think whatever they wanted about their brothers-in-arms, but as long as it remained their personal opinion, the Council was little interested in such a thing.

It's a completely different matter when such things were done in public. Oh, Force, how much brain must one have to do such a thing in the presence of the apprentice of the one you're talking about?

"Is that so," Dougan said thoughtfully. He rubbed his chin with an armored glove as if considering something. A tense silence hung at the table.

What remained of discipline didn't allow Ahsoka to just get up and leave the dining hall. By her words, she had insulted a Jedi Master senior in both age and rank. Had Anakin been in her place, he would likely have gotten away with it — young Skywalker was forgiven much.

But his Padawan didn't enjoy such love from the Grand Master.

"Well then, the matter is taking a serious turn," Dougan finally declared. Aayla realized the Jedi had come to some conclusion. She didn't intend to intervene in what was happening — again, ethical troubles were a personal matter. "Measures will have to be taken…"

"Forgive me, Master Dougan," the girl looked imploringly at the Jedi. "I… I promise that such a thing won't happen again…"

"Cease the tears, Commander Tano," there was amusement in the Jedi's voice. "What kind of dampness are you spreading here? So, when it's time to storm Muunilinst, it's all right, a combat commander, but in the Temple — immediately a little, defenseless girl?"

Now that's something completely new, Aayla thought. Usually Jedi didn't act like that when someone insulted their honor and dignity…

"I… don't understand, Teacher," Oly frowned. "Aren't you going to deal with this?"

"What's there to deal with?" the Jedi was surprised. "A young Padawan expressed her point of view. Well, commendable," after these words, bewilderment appeared even on the face of the culprit of the conflict herself.

"Ahsoka," Dougan said with warmth in his voice. "Don't worry. I've heard worse opinions about myself. Well, am I to hold everyone to account for their bold words? I'm afraid I have more important things to do."

"But I…," the student tried to cut in again, but the master interrupted her, raising a hand.

"Now, girls," Dougan drummed his fingers on the table. "The incident is closed. Oly, you're a good girl for keeping your finger on the pulse, for which I praise you," the Jedi Master stroked the girl's head in an extremely funny way. Like a house pet. It was so sweet, fatherly, that Aayla couldn't suppress a smile. "But how to handle this situation is for me alone to decide. After all, I am the insulted party, right, Ahsoka?"

"Y-yes, Master…"

"Well, that's great," Rick rubbed the lower edge of his mask again. "So, what punishment to think up for both of you…"

"Both of us?" Starstone was surprised.

"Of course," the Jedi nodded affirmatively. "Why didn't you report such valuable information immediately?"

"I…"

"No need for excuses," Rick put a hand on the girl's shoulder and pulled her to him. Aayla thought with slight envy that she would have liked to be in her place right now. "I think tomorrow we'll both go to Master Drallig and give the Younglings some fencing lessons. Under the careful supervision of the most esteemed Troll."

"Oh, no," Ahsoka said despondently.

"I don't feel well all of a sudden," Oly's mood instantly dropped to zero.

Aayla mentally applauded Dougan's tactfulness.

Without doubt, he didn't let the situation take its course. And he found a way to teach a lesson to both busybodies.

Throughout the Order, Master Cin Drallig was known for his fanatical dedication to lightsaber fencing. And there were too few Jedi whom he hadn't criticized to pieces. In his favorite biting manner.

Which means two Padawans who had already managed to gain enough independence in the war to forget some elements of PROPER fencing will inevitably become victims of his ridicule. In his favorite biting manner.

Which means they will undoubtedly draw correct conclusions from those minutes of shame.

One — that one's tongue should be kept to oneself.

Second — that no one likes a snitch. Even if you're doing it for a good cause.

"And I don't care," Dougan stated. "At dawn tomorrow — both of you in the training halls. Whoever I don't see there — you have yourselves to blame. Oly will be doing paperwork until the end of her training — and no more new elements for your style. Well, there's a way to handle Ahsoka too. Skywalker doesn't favor me, of course, but Obi-Wan, I think, won't refuse to give you some lectures on Jedi ethics."

"I'm finished," Ahsoka lowered her head onto her hands lying on the table.

Oly stared with a blank look straight ahead, her lips pursed in a tube.

A hilarious sight.

"And what, no objections?" Dougan clarified. "Well, then it's a deal."

"Was it possible to refuse, or what?" Ahsoka lifted her head from her hands, looking at the master. Oly only glanced sideways at her teacher.

"We live in a democratic state, after all," Dougan spread his hands. "Of course, it was possible."

With a quiet groan, now both girls put their heads on their hands.

Looking at such an immediate lesson, Aayla could only applaud the Jedi.

Meanwhile, the waiter arrived at the table with trays. The girls, willy-nilly, had to rise and arm themselves with cutlery. They looked depressed, of course, but Secura could bet it was only an act. They are both by no means stupid and understood perfectly well what's what. Better a few hours of shame before Drallig and the Younglings than possible sanctions.

"Well, whatever happened at this table will stay between us," the Jedi declared. No objections were found. "Well then, that's good. So, bon appétit to everyone."

Both girls mumbled something unintelligible in response and fell on the food as if they hadn't eaten for several days. Aayla only nodded silently to the man, focusing on her meal.

But curiosity took its own. Sideways, but she watched Dougan. More precisely, his face.

A few weeks ago, she had heard a dispute from a group of Younglings — does Master Dougan eat with his mask on? Or does he still take it off?

 the image of mystery around the Jedi was only reinforced by fragmentary information from the front. It was whispered that he never, even among other Jedi, takes off his mask. And takes food separately from others. There were several suggestions as to why this was so.

But one enjoyed particular popularity.

After a battle on board a Republic Star Destroyer with Dooku's acolyte, the Jedi suffered greatly from Force Lightning. And his face is so disfigured that he has nothing left but to wear a mask constantly.

There is some truth in that.

Kyla Omas, a friend of Aayla's and a Jedi Healer who had already worked with Rick twice, told her in secret that the man's body indeed suffered greatly after exposure to the Dark Side. Of course, bacta and healers were able to level the damage to the body — restore muscles, nerves, tendons, grow skin. But even after that, his entire body was covered with many hundreds of scars of various sizes. Like a whitish net, they enveloped his body.

But the head and face suffered most. The hair cover had burned out almost completely, and its restoration is a long and painstaking process, which not every Jedi Healer can handle. And, given that it's not life-threatening, Vokara Che, in her favorite grumbling manner, refused to use healing crystals.

So, seeing the man bring his hands to his face and the mask fasteners click, Aayla prepared to see a face disfigured by lightning.

But, apparently, the Jedi had his own opinion on the matter. Without pulling the mask off his face, he pulled the hood of his cloak deeper over his face so that only the lower part of his face was visible — the chin, the tip of his nose, and his lips. The rest of the face was hidden in the shadow of the hood.

But what was seen was enough.

The chin and nose were indeed mottled with thin threads of whitish scars, sometimes forming some unimaginable patterns. The lips had several vertical scars — most likely in the places where tears had occurred.

Dougan followed the Padawans' example and started eating. Slowly, as if trying to taste every piece.

Aayla didn't focus her attention on what she saw, so she too switched to food. However, the atmosphere at the table was once again disturbed with the arrival of another member of the Order in the dining hall.

In a dark Jedi robe, with her hair loose and reaching her shoulders, a girl, buried in a datapad, was walking slowly toward the table where their company was sitting. Но в какой-то момент девушка остановилась, подняв глаза. A second was enough for her to evaluate those sitting some meter away from her.

Seeing the new person, Ahsoka waved her hand friendly at her. After which the newcomer abruptly changed her initial course and sat at a table a few dozen meters from them.

***

Approaching his box in the Opera, the Chancellor maintained the cold expression of a man whose work never ended. And every new day brought only new problems.

Inside, the Sith was pleased with himself.

The war is developing according to his plan.

The Confederacy has dealt a series of painful defeats to the Republic. The Jedi responded with a symmetric strike, the peak of which was the conquest of one of the Separatists' key worlds — Muunilinst. The message from Anakin that Master Kenobi had finally suppressed the enemy troops on the surface warmed his soul.

Certainly, the virtuously played game was not without annoying slips.

The destruction of the Malevolence cost the CIS great sums. And even the Republic combat ships that perished from its fire, which according to Isard's reports numbered more than thirty, were not comparable to the loss of this ship. However, a worthy replacement for this ship will always be found in the Confederacy's shipyards.

The second unpleasant moment was the unexpected chain of victories in the "Iron Lance" army. The capture of Ukio, the exposure of Moff Baulyur, the defeat of Grievous's armada at Bothawui, the Trade Federation fleet at Rodia, the submission of Monastery, Nexus Ortai, Dressel… but all this paled before the conclusion of the alliance with the Hutts.

He could not tolerate such a failure. Dooku once again relied on his acolytes and failed. The result — unknown why, but the Hutts agreed to conclude a treaty that they essentially didn't need. All this, of course, didn't change the plan, but it will definitely cause many unpleasant moments in the future.

And yet, there's more to this alliance than meets the eye.

The Hutts could have defended their own borders themselves — the fleet of these vile slugs was equal to that of the three nearest sectoral armies. But for some reason, the Hutts still agreed to the terms drawn up in the Ministry of Justice such that one reading should have been enough for this gang of bandits to limit themselves only to silent permission to use their own hyperspace routes. Sheev had already reviewed them and found the necessary elements for the next part of his plan.

It could well be that Jabba, who came to the fore after the kidnapping of his son, is pursuing his own interests — only a complete idiot could believe in the good intentions of all these enterprises for saving refugees and restoring destroyed worlds. Undoubtedly, there is something behind this whole screen, and Isard will have to work hard to find out. But after all, it wasn't for nothing that Palpatine contributed to his elevation. The entire power of Republic intelligence is now in the hands of one person. The meaningless bureaucracy was slowly but surely being abolished — as it should be. The state apparatus must work like a well-oiled chronometer — otherwise, his design would share the fate of the accursed Republic.

There is nothing worse for a politician than citizens satisfied with life. Every victory only strengthened the Jedi's position on the galactic arena. Consequently, there was an urgent need to balance the scales of this conflict.

The Jedi must suffer significant losses. A full-scale offensive in the sectors is insufficient. Yes, the army is bled dry, and the fleet is feverishly fragmented to cover the gaps in its area of responsibility.

Fortunately, the Chancellor had thoughts suitable for a corresponding strike at the most sensitive spot of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Since the "Iron Lance" is so successful, they are the ones who will have to suffer a shameful defeat. Otherwise, the entire sector will soon be cleared of the CIS fleet. And that must not be allowed.

The longer and more terrible the war, the more questions there are for those who wage it. Which means that no lull can be allowed in Master Dougan's area of responsibility.

Praise be to the Force that there are still senators for whom a few hints dropped in passing are enough to fan a fire and hysteria out of nowhere. The Twi'leks with their occupation and Geonosis passing under CIS control, the siege of Foerost, the slaughter at Arakene — these battles are truly beautiful in their destructive beauty. They have already cost the Republic hundreds of billions of dataries and will cost even more. Especially when the battles flare up throughout the southern armies.

And the Sith knew which world was to become the next source of headache for the Jedi.

The Senate Guards accompanying him visibly tensed when a tall figure in black attire was discovered at the entrance to the box. Even without using the Force, Palpatine felt the waves of anxiety coming from the guards on duty at the box. No, they were demonstratively serene, but internally gathered and ready to use their weapons if this Jedi suddenly turned out to be an enemy.

"Supreme Chancellor," the figure bowed respectfully.

"Master Dougan," Sheev returned the greeting with just his lips. "Glad to see you, Moff."

"Thank you for the honor shown me," the voice from under the mask came out muffled, as if belonging to a droid. "There is something in this," the Sith thought, assessing the Jedi's appearance. Fully dressed in armor, detached from the world, commanding… Yes, decidedly, such a warrior in the service of the Empire would strike terror into anyone. An interesting concept. Perhaps something suitable for the Sith himself will come out of such an image. "Few are honored with such a thing — to watch a production of the Mon Calamari troupe in the company of the Chancellor himself."

"Indeed, dear General," Sheev smiled. "It is but a small thing with which I can thank a successful commander. Jedi such as you can be counted on the fingers. The entire success of the Grand Army rests on you."

"Thank you for the flattering assessment of my humble person," and along with the feigned modesty, Palpatine felt that the seeds of his flattery had fallen on fertile ground.

"So that's it," the Sith thought. The Jedi needs outside approval. A curious contingency. Which undoubtedly can be used for one's own purposes.

"Let us go inside," Palpatine smiled. "The performance will start soon."

The Chancellor's personal box was located in the best place in the Opera's amphitheater. Richly decorated, with a dozen comfortable chairs, it allowed everyone present to observe both the performance and the behavior in the hall.

Opera had long ceased to be a place for ordinary people. A ticket here cost fabulous money, therefore, only very rich people — industrialists, senators, prominent officials — could afford to be present here. Each of them hoped to earn approval in the Chancellor's eyes. For one can never exclude the possibility that Palpatine will pay attention to you and bring you close.

And the higher a sentient climbed in the government hierarchy, the better their life became. And in this galaxy, there was only one group of sentients who shunned even more greatness and power.

Jedi.

And Palpatine noticed with a certain triumph that hundreds of eyes turned to his box as soon as the armored giant took his place on the Chancellor's left hand.

A mixture of emotions — anger, irritation, envy, admiration… All this was being radiated now by all these commoners, the ordinary tools of his power. Who, after today's performance, will become even more ambitious. And will be ready for anything to earn his, Sidious's, favor.

The Jedi settled silently in the chair. Palpatine cast an inquiring look at him.

To be honest, Moff Ravik suited Palpatine as long as it was "quiet" in his area of responsibility. He was forgiven much — and failures, and slave trade, bribes… As long as he kept the situation under control. Had he managed to keep the territory under control, he could have held his post longer. Now, as soon as communication is restored with that world where he is in siege with the remnants of his ships, he will share the fate of Moff Baulyur: the courts will strip him like a linden tree on bribes in an attempt to mitigate the punishment. Но итог будет один — больше этого человека он не увидит. Perhaps Tyranus will find some use for him and Ravik in the Confederacy, like those slave-trading senators. But Palpatine cared about this to a lesser extent.

The Jedi had thrown him a "puzzle for the mind." And before the end of the performance, Sheev intended to solve it.

Isard had long ago formed detailed dossiers on each of the twenty, in which the strengths and weaknesses of each were described in detail. Of the entire mass, only some stood out against the general background — as the most capable and the least vulnerable. Trachta and Dougan. One — selflessly loyal, extremely diligent, and infinitely competent. The second… That is why he was shown such honor — to find out who he really is. A worthy ally, or an enemy to be got rid of as quickly as possible.

And so far, Palpatine could not make a definite decision.

Dougan is undoubtedly a fine choice for the position of Moff — had Palpatine not been interested in exterminating the Jedi, such a subordinate could have been of great service, clearing the filth from the Outer Rim. Certainly, Anakin could also have handled such a task — after he turned to the Dark Side.

But on the other hand — the territory of the 13th and 14th armies possess extremely valuable worlds for the Republic: Kamino, with its clone factories. Rotana, with its secret shipyards and "Kuat Drive Yards" factories. Christophsis, with its truly vast resources that flow into the Republic's strategically important sectors at bargain prices. The control of the latter, in essence, neutralized all the visible negative consequences of the failure on Jabiim. But the latter by no means helped the CIS for free — their mines sold raw materials for insane money. Christophsis, on the other hand, kept the brand at the market price — but significantly lower than that at which raw materials had entered the Republic before the war.

And indeed it was Dougan's victory that gave the Republic this world — before the conflict on Geonosis, Christoph was a neutral system and amassed considerable wealth, being one of the worlds at the intersection of hyperspace routes.

Palpatine frowned.

And indeed, how could he have missed this. Dougan is undoubtedly useful. Especially his friendship with the government of the Christoph system. It wasn't for nothing that Mace Windu focused attention on the fact that thousands of ships are being produced on Rendili by order of Elder Iselle. And the Jedi is quite sure that most of these ships will fall into his hands. And he intends to put the free ships to use, distributing the free money to purchase new batches of clones and weapons.

"Master Dougan," Palpatine inquired softly. "How many ships do you think Christophsis is ready to hand over to your command?"

The Jedi turned his mask toward him as if intending to read the Chancellor's true emotions on his face. Not likely, dear Jedi. Where you studied to learn the Force, I had long been weaving intrigues from the darkness.

Palpatine noticed with an internal smirk that, as he expected, the Jedi tried to probe his mind with the Force. Oh, how unceremonious — none of the Masters allowed themselves this, and here some Master. But what then, Force Concealment works flawlessly, so now the Jedi can only catch scraps of those thoughts and emotions that I allow him to perceive. What I need him to know.

"I am aware of a thousand Hammerhead-class cruisers," Dougan said in a barely discernible whisper. Oh, so he doesn't want Anakin to hear this. Interesting. "Elder Iselle asserts that another thousand Trantas are being built at the same shipyards, but after the last battle, they are ready to hand over all the cruisers to my command — as long as the Separatists don't attack them again."

"And what will happen to the thousand corvettes which, as the second battle at Christophsis showed, are just as effective as our light cruisers?" Palpatine inquired. He was genuinely interested in what the fate of an entire fleet would be.

"They are of no use to me," Dougan admitted. "And unfortunately, they will not hand over their ships to anyone else in the Republic. Now Rendili is building both types of ships in series of fifty hulls. I think that if my area of responsibility suddenly increases in the near future and I need additional forces, I will be able to persuade the Elder to change the subsequent orders of Trantas to the construction of Hammerheads that will pass to my command."

"Forgive me, I don't see the rational core yet," Palpatine lied. "They still have an entire fleet of ships, almost cruisers."

"But we have almost two thousand line ships," the Jedi countered. "And crews of clones subordinate to their command, not the government of Christophsis. And as such — if necessary, I will be able to disperse this rabble — believe me, the last fight showed that the crews on these Trantas are abominably prepared. And in doing so, the Republic will get an entire fleet of two oversectors at the expense of one quite wealthy system. As I said — I will spend the saved funds on the acquisition of clones. Their number, especially in the Outer Rim, should be increased — after all, the Hutts are next door. Only the Force knows what will enter their heads if Dooku promises better terms."

"And you will have a huge fleet and army ready to once and for all restore order in Hutt Space," the Chancellor finished for him.

"Exactly so. Exotics… let's just say I don't strongly believe they are any better than humanity. But in second or third roles, they could be useful."

Interesting thoughts this Jedi voices. Palpatine had found the answers to all the questions he had. And he had formed his opinion on Rick Dougan.

No, he is not at all a hindrance. This Jedi is flawed — Isard had reported the gift from Jabba to him. He is ambitious — and military service in the Grand Army is for him only a reason to make a name for himself. And he is not averse to overstepping the Order's dogmas where necessary.

Sheev allowed himself to smile. The man undoubtedly possesses the talent of a commander. And his idea with increasing the number of clones at the expense of savings on fleet purchases plays into Palpatine's hands. For the more clones there are, the less chance that the Jedi will manage to escape.

Dougan reminded him somewhat of the long-deceased Master C'baoth. He had been a decent advisor and had played his part. When the need for him vanished, he left the game board like any other pawn.

This Jedi, without knowing it himself, would serve the Empire well. Without knowing it himself, he would ensure stability in the controlled systems at the decisive moment. Well, and then the question of the expediency of his further service would be resolved radically.

One only needed to ensure Dougan's loyalty now. After all, great power corrupts. And the executor of Palpatine's will had to be ready for any problems.

Positioned on the roof of the building opposite, Cad Bane once again double-checked his weapon — a heavy concussion rifle — and his escape routes. As before, he found that everything was shaping up perfectly.

The numbers on the chronometer had passed midnight, Coruscant standard time. That meant the wait would not be long.

The performance had ended about half an hour ago — the wait was almost over. Everything was going according to plan — the one the client had adjusted a few hours ago, in the midst of preparation.

In other cases, the Duros would have refused the mission — it was not in his rules to execute contracts whose objectives changed in the process. However, the client had tripled the fee — and the credits had already arrived in the mercenary's secret account. Consequently, he only needed to slightly modify his plan.

No major problems were anticipated, and as such, he saw no reason to turn down a whole pile of money. He just needed to slightly alter the scenario. Fortunately, the client had taken care of the rest.

The Duros never asked himself what goals his clients were pursuing. This always helped him survive — even on those rare missions after which they wanted to "remove" him. With the money earned from this contract, he could buy a small planet in the Outer Rim and live happily ever after. But he had no intention of doing such nonsense.

There was still strength in his hands, and his brains worked as they should — meaning his career should not be interrupted. Perhaps in five or ten years, he would need to think about retirement, but definitely not now.

After this contract, clients would flock to him like nerfs to a watering hole. Although he hadn't experienced problems with earnings before, after tonight, it would no longer be worth dealing in trifles.

He would surpass Jango Fett and become the highest-paid bounty hunter. Only after allowing this achievement to settle in the minds of his competitors would it be possible to think about retirement.

But not now.

Spotting movement at a private exit to the Opera, he pressed his eye to the eyepiece of the rifle's computer sight.

So, a couple of "meat" in blue armor. Senate Guard. No trouble to be expected from them — they couldn't see past their own noses. Six more of their colleagues followed. Aha, they were deploying the inner perimeter.

Undoubtedly, there were also distant guards — those controlling the approaches to the building. Naturally, the guards were concerned about the safety of the Chancellor's person. Well, well.

Cad chewed on a toothpick in his mouth.

And where do they hire such "vegetables"? He had cut out two sniper nests without the slightest noise, as they acted completely autonomously. They didn't even use comlinks — afraid they could be detected and neutralized by potential assassins. What idiots.

So, there's what's needed.

Chancellor Palpatine, accompanied by two Jedi.

Of course, until their sabers were ignited, an ordinary person wouldn't understand who was before them. But Cad was one of the best specifically because he knew his enemy better than the enemy knew himself. For him, the identity of those two in black clothes was no secret.

Meanwhile, the guards escorted the Chancellor and his companions to a luxurious and excellently armored hover-limo. The security vehicles were already in the air. But as he had planned, acting in accordance with security protocols, they thereby left many loopholes for the assassin.

Bane could only quietly chuckle at how, before the Chancellor appeared, a couple of guards inspected his transport for hidden explosive devices. Well, well, you're looking in the wrong place, boys.

Without looking, he raised the control remote to his eyes. Now the count was down to seconds.

One of the escort vehicles took a position in front of the high-value target's transport, two more above and below. And three full vehicles behind. Excellent, all according to plan.

And now, the Chancellor was already near his limo…

It was time.

The first explosion — under the belly of the escort vehicle hovering above the Chancellor's limo — brought tons of metal down on the latter. That was it; that mechanism was now only good for the scrap heap. And the guards who happened to be nearby — for the morgue.

Look at them scatter.

Cad smirked.

Skywalker predictably ignited his weapon and was now looking around, expecting a ground attack. What a total…

But the second Jedi was acting more professionally. Although he also had his lightsaber on, he shielded the Chancellor with himself, slowly retreating to the Opera doors, protecting Palpatine much more professionally.

Well, that wouldn't last long.

Cad held his breath for a second, catching Dougan's armored head in the sight. A shot. Then, slightly shifting the barrel, with an interval of less than a second — three more. And another series — a bit higher.

Commendable. Excellent reaction.

The armored Jedi parried the first charge. The ammunition, which disorientates the enemy upon detonation, produced its intended effect on him. His movements became a bit slower — he was definitely concussed.

The detonation of a burst of munitions behind his back almost failed. Dougan incinerated one of the projectiles with his blade and deflected one to the side. The last from the first series went off under his feet when he was a meter further than at the start of the attack.

The Jedi dropped to one knee, his weapon went out. But the air in front of him seemed to thicken — one of the projectiles from the second series hit the upper edge of this Jedi defense and exploded, throwing the Jedi toward the destroyed limo.

Skywalker, meanwhile, rushed to his place, still waving his Jedi toy. A pure cretin. Does he really think a blaster attack will follow?

The remaining charges from the second burst, as they were supposed to, collapsed the entrance to the Opera, cutting the people off from the safe building. Skywalker, interestingly, pushed the Chancellor aside, using the Force to hold back the permacrete shrapnel. Look how he cares for Palpatine's safety. Well, well.

So, now the remaining escort transports should organize a screen… And so it was. Five vehicles grouped tightly together, covering the sector of fire from a continuation of the attack.

Well, stupid. Who told you it would continue the way you expect?

Bane noted with satisfaction that the Jedi in armor was struggling to his feet. Staggering. Well, this one's good. More than one Jedi has died from concussion shell explosions — the Mandalorians wouldn't let you lie.

Well, it should be finished. In a couple of minutes, the entire Coruscant security would be here.

"Act," Cad commanded briefly.

Parisini, the only one he had brought in for this contract, did exactly what was required of her — arrived on time at the landing pad on a high-speed speeder and began to spray the survivors with a hurricane of fire from a blaster carbine. Wonderful.

As expected, Skywalker took her as the threat and rushed to meet her, leaving the zone blocked by the transport. What a predictable, stupid Jedi.

Cad, with a smirk, pressed the second button on the detonator control remote.

Five bombs, low-powered individually but destructive in their deadly aria, hidden in the remaining transport of the Chancellor's defenders, detonated. The shockwave should have broken the bones of all survivors, and the multi-ton hulks of the vehicles should have crushed the remains.

But it turned out quite differently.

The concussed Jedi, like a mythical colossus, standing on one knee, projected a transparent but — under the influence of artificial light — shimmering with sparks barrier around himself and Palpatine. The shockwave and the sea of fire following it broke against it. The falling hulks also did no harm to the Chancellor and the Jedi. But Skywalker, realizing that something had gone wrong, could only behold Parisini disappearing into the stream of vehicles. The young Jedi rose from the remains of the landing pad and ran as fast as he could in the direction of the Chancellor and his brother-templar.

Maneuvering between the hulks of burning transport, he didn't even blink when he saw Dougan collapse unconscious to the ground. He ran up to the Chancellor like a puppy to its master.

Through the sight, Cad could observe the Chancellor's face, peppered with fragments and covered in dust, on which fright reigned. Then, he shifted his gaze to the motionless Jedi. However, the guy seemed to be alive — look, his hand clenched into a fist.

Well, he had done his job. In the distance, sirens of emergency services were already roaring, so it was necessary to retreat.

With regret, he looked at the unused rocket launcher. Perhaps he should have fired a salvo now — surely there was no one left to reflect it; Skywalker was busy with something else entirely. And the second one, most likely, wouldn't survive anyway. Concussion grenades are excellent at breaking human bones and tearing internals.

But he hadn't been paid extra for that.

Cad walked to his own speeder standing on the edge of the roof. He took a final look at the position he had left, where two unlucky Senate Guard snipers seemed frozen at the concussion rifle sight and monocular. And without hesitation, he started the countdown of the explosive devices hidden under the bodies.

When he was already a couple of blocks away from the execution site, a small explosion tore through the Coruscant night. Sufficient for its heat to destroy any organic matter. But too weak to hide the affiliation of the armor remains of the supposed assassins.

Anyone looking into this would reach the result Bane had pre-arranged. For he always achieved his goal.

***

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