The cockpit of the TIE Avenger pulsed with light: glowing monitors and flashing screens continuously signaled, warning of the constantly changing news of the battle.
But Asajj Ventress wasn't even looking at the screens.
Her perception of what was happening extended far beyond the starfighter cockpit, far beyond the information provided by electronic instruments and the helmet's visor.
The Force was her ally and allowed her to sense much more than even the most sensitive scanners and best instruments in the galaxy could provide a pilot.
She knew the position of every ship in this battle, foresaw their maneuvers before they began to materialize, predicted the firing of weapons and the pursuit of her fighter by enemy strike craft.
The expanded sphere of consciousness allowed her to foresee every laser cannon shot from her pursuers, every elusive turn and roll, every movement and counter-movement made by the pursuing ship.
She was being pursued by an ace pilot, who had latched on not far from a small hangar she had chosen for landing her machine.
The pilot was clearly superior in professionalism to most of his comrades, but he was clearly no match for Ventress.
Therefore, when she got tired of playing with the pursuer, the Dathomirian witch turned her starfighter on its thrusters and hit the V-19 Avalanche with a full salvo from all cannons.
Ignoring the explosion, she returned to her previous course.
Several enemy fighters were already heading towards her, but the cumulative missiles solved their existence, and the deflector shields, though they sagged, did not do so significantly.
The battle was beginning to tire her.
She frowned in intense concentration; her breathing became uneven and ragged.
Drops of sweat rolled down her forehead, making her eyes sting.
Still, it was time for her to finish piloting—she had attracted enough attention from a Force-sensitive sentient being on the bridge of the "Lucrehulk."
A Lucrehulk-class capital ship
(modified LH-3210-class freighter)
Now he would definitely come to meet her.
Asajj could feel the Dark Side emanating from her opponent with her very skin.
His hunger for murder, his anomalously joyful emotions, his thirst for triumph and inflicting suffering.
True madness that comes from an uncontrolled fall to the Dark Side.
You ignite emotions within yourself that strengthen your connection to the Dark Side.
The deeper this connection, the stronger the emotions.
And this cycle becomes an end in itself, a way of existence that is almost impossible to break.
Usually, you only notice this when it's too late.
Feeding the Dark Side of the Force becomes your routine, the meaning of your life.
Otherwise, you simply can't imagine how to exist.
The longer you exist in such a cycle of emotions and the Dark Side, the faster your body ages.
The load she experienced in this fighter battle was not something extreme—from an objective point of view.
Thirty years ago, she could freely fly and kill for long, long hours, enjoying every death.
Now...
Subjectively, the load she experienced was monstrous; and yet, despite the progressive mental exhaustion, her physical condition was at a level that allowed her to maintain mental focus and draw upon the Dark Side of the Force to influence the course of the confrontation with enemy pilots who dared to challenge the Dathomirian witch.
She could already clearly sense the presence of a gifted being on board the Zann Consortium's capital ship (and who cares that on board, over the barely faded emblems of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the insignia of the Corporate Sector are applied).
She could confidently say that at the beginning of the battle, this point of rage and hatred was on the bridge of the "Lucrehulk," and now it was shifting from the center of the core ship to the periphery.
Specifically, to the hangar she had noticed for landing her machine inside the ship.
Well, now everything had definitely gone awry, but it was still within the framework of her plan—to make the operations to capture the enemy commander more realistic.
It was just confusing her that after leaving the ysalamiri's range on board the "Crimson Dawn," she felt the Dark Side emanating from her opponent much more strongly.
It now resembled only a pale shadow.
But nevertheless—powerful enough to understand—a clash with him would not end in a few seconds or minutes, as usually happens in lightsaber duels.
It was time to stop playing with pilots.
She already felt that the starship with the strike team of fleet special forces had arrived and docked on the opposite side of the core ship.
The time had come to break through.
She circled and tumbled in the flashes of suppressive fire from anti-fighter turrets, getting rid of pursuers and other enemies, forging her way forward.
Reacting with speed born of instinct, honed by training, and supported by the intuition of the Dark Side, she pulled the engine control lever and leaned hard on the controls.
The starfighter plunged into a steep dive, neatly ducking under three consecutive shots from the "Lucrehulk-class" laser cannons.
Emerging from the dive, she made a wide turn and moved back along the hull of the enemy ship.
The Dark Side adept she was tracking, it turned out, had already left the core ship and was now advancing through the vast hangar, which occupied a large part of the starship's open ring.
It was obvious that all the enemy pilots' attacks on Ventress were an attempt to give him time to escape.
This, of course, was all well and good and in line with Shohashi's plan, but she also had questions.
Ventress understood and accepted battles for ideology, wars for spheres of influence, and those aimed at the complete annihilation of opponents.
But being on the side of criminals…
Whoever this gifted individual was, he was clearly not the only one serving the "Zann Consortium."
In a one-on-one battle, she intended to extract more information about the organization from the opponent.
And she also began to have vague doubts that there might be several Dark Side adepts hostile to the Dominion on board the starship.
This would explain the difference in the aura she had initially sensed and was now registering.
Her "Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser" sliced through the defensive perimeter around the capital ship too quickly and agilely to be targeted by an enemy escort fighter or turret.
Passing through the "corporate" defenses, she headed for the very heart of the main hangar, shooting down V-19s taking off from the hangar deck with her cannons.
The crew guessed her intentions, but the protective shutters dropped only a fraction of a second later than her starfighter was inside.
The ship spun, sliding across the landing deck, and she opened fire, destroying almost all the soldiers who had the misfortune of being inside the compartment and in her path.
As soon as the starfighter braked, Ventress, having already shed her helmet, immediately threw open the hatch and jumped out of the cockpit onto the deck.
The next moment, several missiles hit the "Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser" behind her, destroying the ship.
But she was no longer interested in that.
She would always find a way to get off a dying enemy starship—if there was one thing she was good at, it was surviving.
Landing nimbly on her feet a dozen meters from the explosion site and shielding herself with the Force from the flying debris, Ventress drew and ignited her lightsabers in one smooth motion.
The first wide arc of crimson blades deflected the blaster fire of two soldiers in brown armor, who had survived the initial attack, and safely deflected it without harming the witch.
With a single leap, Ventress covered six meters to her opponents; another synchronized movement of both lightsabers ended their worthless lives.
But others were already running to replace them.
Asajj smiled predatorily and charged into the attack.
A couple of minutes later, she stopped, assessing the situation.
The mangled bodies from her lightsabers and the shattered mechanisms were all that remained of the soldiers, technicians, and equipment that serviced the Corporate Sector's fighters on this starship.
Smiling, she crossed the threshold of the airlock leading into the ship's interior.
Quickly and confidently, she moved through the corridors, guided by the Force emanating from the Dark Side adept, like a rancor sensing prey and following its trail.
In one of the corridors, she was intercepted by a security team.
From the disintegrators on their uniforms, she realized that she was now facing not ordinary soldiers, but the elite.
The best of the best that the Corporate Sector's armed forces had at their disposal.
They posed a significant threat—especially with disintegrators in their mischievous hands.
Ventress knew perfectly well about the training of these soldiers.
And the characteristics of this deadly weapon.
One of the soldiers even managed to fire, creating a hole in the hull behind her before the entire squad fell to her blades.
By the time she reached a large room, behind which she could clearly sense the radiation emanating from the Dark Side, which could never be mistaken under any circumstances, having once stepped onto this path, she had destroyed more than a hundred enemy soldiers.
Their severed limbs, bodies cut into pieces, destroyed weapons, and crushed torsos littered the deck in a bloody carpet—a testament to her fury and unstoppable might.
Two more elite enemy soldiers blocked her path.
They were ready to fight, but were openly scared, seeing what had happened to their predecessors.
But they clearly weren't going to retreat, run, or save their worthless lives.
So much the worse for them.
She felt the Dark Side adept behind the bulkhead experiencing confusion.
But it lasted only a moment—after which he began to move away towards the opposite wall.
This alone gave her understanding—he was not strong enough, and therefore fled from any danger.
It was strange that he hadn't left his fleet at the first sign of defeat at the hands of Shohashi's ships.
Ventress had no intention of wasting time and getting her hands dirty with these fanatics: she also considered engaging them beneath her dignity.
Instead, she simply thrust her right fist forward and channeled a stream of Force through it.
Both opponents were smeared against the buckling bulkhead, their insides crushed by their own armor.
Without stopping, with another push, she knocked down the blocked hatch door.
Explosions sounded from within—traps had been set specifically for her.
At the far wall, she saw her opponent—a thin human male with panic in his eyes, who looked at her, igniting his lightsaber.
"Where are you running, little fool?" Ventress snarled, twirling her light blades and taking cautious steps towards her victim. "I'm here, which means your worst nightmare has come true."
***
The battle with the enemy fleet was reaching its climax.
The destruction of three "Recusant-class light destroyers" one after another brought chaos to the enemy ranks.
Erik noted that the "corporates'" actions were no longer brazen and coordinated.
In tactical terms, this is called "loss of initiative."
And it is next to destructive panic.
The "Lucrehulk-class" capital ship was not going anywhere—like a large predatory bird, the "Crimson Dawn" hovered above it in the upper echelon, holding it in its invisible claws of tractor beams.
The ship desperately fought back with its remaining artillery, but all these attempts to escape were futile.
The vanguard strike team of fleet special forces was already in the sphere ship and advancing successfully.
Stormtroopers from the space marines had taken control of both main hangar cannons, and now shuttlecraft were constantly flying in, deploying squad after squad onto the "Lucrehulk-class" flight deck.
Battle droids and droidekas moved from corridors to compartments and vice versa, clearing everything in their path.
No mercy for those who did not lay down their arms.
Erik had a rough idea of how an attack that knew no mercy affected an opponent.
And when new battle droids replaced fallen ones.
Such an attack would never falter.
And the enemy soldiers understood this.
The deaths of their comrades and the unyielding will of the assault droids fueled their fear of death, from which despair was born, crushing hearts and souls with a cold, sticky numbness.
It seemed that any action you took was no longer meaningful.
Ideologically motivated soldiers would never panic—if they knew their cause was just.
The Corporate Sector soldiers were only nominally so.
Before, they considered themselves the strongest and most invincible.
Until now, they had not encountered opponents as relentless and merciless as the Dominion stormtroopers, with battle droids moving ahead of them.
Panic had already begun—and the enemy was starting to flee to escape craft, thinking it would help them.
A fatal mistake.
Every wrong move by the opponent is multiplied when the mind cannot process vast amounts of information.
Every hesitation turned into an avalanche of errors and mistakes that overwhelmed even the most disciplined fighters.
Every death sowed fear and a sense of hopelessness.
The battle, barely having begun, was already nearing its end.
The Corporate Sector fleet was in complete disarray.
Three "Recusant-class" destroyers were destroyed.
The capital "Lucrehulk-class" was under boarding attack, and all its small aircraft were either destroyed or driven away from the starship by the "Crimson Dawn's" air force.
Its cargo counterpart lost its main shields during the first swift raid by the "Scimitar assault bombers."
Now Dominion star destroyers were advancing on it, targeting the suddenly vulnerable container ship with their devastating weapons.
Turbolasers were burning out firing points, and ion cannons were silencing entire sections of the massive hull.
Swift "Lancer-class pursuit craft" tried with all their might to break the systematic attack on all fronts, or at least escape the trap they found themselves in due to their own faith in security.
The turbolaser barrage, fired by cruisers, destroyers, and their escort corvettes, only proved once again the futility of the enemy's strike ships against an opponent created for war, not for intimidating competitors.
The remaining enemy fighter groups were being broken down into individual wings and pairs, after which they were completely destroyed by the Dominion ships' air forces.
A "Lancer-class pursuit craft."
Two "Lancer-class pursuit craft," coordinating their attack, rushed towards the "Red Dragon," intending to break past it while the destroyer's gunners were busy finishing off two of their brethren.
The enemy's plans were already as clear as Tatooine noon.
Redirecting their heavy weapons, the bulky "Lucrehulk-class" "corporates" were counting on support ships—the "Lancer-class pursuit craft"—to create defensive lines to contain the Dominion.
Without these lines, they were practically defenseless against the superior number of guns on the Dominion's combat starships.
Erik tracked the enemy's escape attempt.
Both "Lancer-class pursuit craft" set a vector that reduced the number of guns the "Red Dragon's" gunners could aim at them.
The "corporates" wanted to go around them, firing from all their cannons at the star destroyer's superstructure.
A logical tactic.
If the "Red Dragon's" crew tried to change its position to aim more guns at the target, the "Lancer-class pursuit craft" would turn and come in from another vector, inflicting even more damage.
Or they could simply go astern and either destroy the engines or break out of the trap.
The plan allowed for the escape of only one intelligent being—the commander of this corporate formation.
But not a single starship would leave here.
The "Red Dragon," despite several sensitive hits to its hull, did not change its position in the formation.
And the "Lancer-class pursuit craft" broke out of the encirclement.
Only to fall victim to the "Scimitar assault bombers" that appeared in close proximity to them.
Coming in on a counter-course with the enemy ships, two high-speed bombers launched proton torpedoes.
A second later, it was all over.
The explosions, which began in the bow sections of the Corporate Sector starships, continued with a chain of internal detonations that tore the starships to pieces.
"Sir, reports from the 'Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser' indicate that all 'Supertransport'-class cargo starships have been immobilized by ion cannons," reported the watch officer.
"Direct the nearest cruisers and fighters to control the starships," ordered Shohashi. "Do not board until we are finished with the 'Lucrehulk-class.' All destroyers—target the remaining 'Lancer-class pursuit craft.' After that, proceed to secure the perimeter."
"It will be done, Rear Admiral!"
The cargo "Lucrehulk-class" was no longer a combatant.
Its hull was already scorched from numerous hits by Dominion turbolasers and missiles.
Its firing points were suppressed, and assault troops were boarding, launching droids ahead of them.
Four strike ships—that was all that remained of the Corporate Sector formation at this moment.
The first two tried to break through the "Red Dragon" and "Eviscerator" formation.
It was obvious they hadn't seen or taken into account what had happened to their predecessors.
But now they were met by crossfire from both destroyers, reinforced by volleys from heavy cruisers.
The other two ships, swarmed by interceptors and shelled by the flagship's broadside artillery, couldn't last longer than the previous group.
One of them lurched towards the "Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser," but exploded, running into the combined fire of the "Tyrant" and the "Executor."
Accurate short bursts—and the Corporate Sector starship ceased to exist.
Whatever one might say, one had to give credit to the crews of the former starships from the Ubiqtorate fleet—those servicemen who were deemed loyal to the Dominion and continued to serve in the regular fleet were indeed masters of their craft.
At first, Erik regretted that the star destroyers from the Ubiqtorate fleet, captured last year, had been transferred to his command, but now he acknowledged the correctness of that decision.
It would have been a mistake to release these ships into the galaxy—as long as the opinion held that the Ubiqtorate was destroyed and purged by the New Republic, it would be rather imprudent to send them on missions in the interests of the Dominion where they could be identified and reported to the Imperials.
Moreover, anyone who had information about the names of the starships captured by the Dominion at Sluis Van would surely understand that there were no "Ubiqtorate" ships present.
Explaining their appearance in the Dominion's possession would be very, very difficult, unless the Grand Admiral came up with a way to do it without raising concerns from the Empire.
However, let the command worry about that.
Erik continued his battle.
Another "Lancer-class pursuit craft" simply disappeared, crushed by an explosion that tore the strike ship to pieces.
It all happened so quickly that Shohashi had to request confirmation.
Yes, this enemy had been hit by the flagship "Crimson Dawn's" anti-ship missiles.
Now it was just a matter of watching the "Red Dragon" and "Eviscerator" bake the crews of the last two strike ships of the enemy group in their own ships.
One of them opened fire with its forward guns to disable the "Eviscerator's" shields, while the other unleashed a barrage of laser and turbolaser fire into the same area, causing a massive detonation in the bow of the star destroyer, accompanied by a small internal detonation that exposed several internal compartments of the star destroyer to the merciless vacuum of space.
It was a brilliant maneuver: under relentless attack, the two ships perfectly coordinated their efforts to destroy a common enemy superior in class and armament.
Such a thing seemed simply impossible.
But one must also admit that successes in battle are not only on the side of the attackers.
Especially since this was just a small victory before the final defeat of the enemy formation.
The "Eviscerator" didn't even flinch—the oxygen in its breached compartments had burned out, and the damage wasn't even worth noting.
In retaliation for the breach and the loss of several crew members, the star destroyer concentrated its fire on the bow section of the nearest Corporate Sector strike ship.
Given that the distance between the starships was practically pistol-range, every turbolaser shot found its mark.
If he had "trios" under his command, everything could have been resolved much faster, but Erik understood that with all his desire, the Dominion could not rebuild all its existing star destroyers to the latest modifications in the shortest possible time.
No need to be upset about being deprived of new models—the "Crimson Dawn" was building an entire fleet of star destroyers.
And if he had the desire to destroy every enemy starship from the formation with just one "Bellator-class dreadnought," he would have done it quickly, without even making himself wait.
The "Eviscerator" simply sliced its opponent in half with turbolaser fire from bow to mid-hull—then the reactors and fuel tanks exploded, scattering the starship, which was not even a hundred meters long from bow to the edge of its main engine nozzles.
The second, whose shields the "Crimson Dawn" had disabled, veered to the side, breaking course to escape the shockwave and the debris of its brethren accelerated to high speeds.
But it only exposed its starboard side to a more convenient angle for the "Red Dragon's" gunners.
Daggers of coherent white-green light struck precisely the center of the hull, evaporating the thin armor, burning through and breaking down bulkheads, melting compartment after compartment…
A second later, the starship erupted in a white-orange glow, ending its life's journey.
"All enemy 'Lancer-class pursuit craft' are destroyed, sir," reported the watch officer. "The 'Supertransports' have been silenced and are under guard. Attempts to activate equipment are being suppressed by ion cannon fire from cruisers and destroyers."
"Understood," Erik replied. "Monitor them until the oxygen runs out on board each freighter."
He had no intention of wasting the lives of his soldiers or even droids to storm military units trapped in doomed starships.
They would die on their own or surrender—they would find a way.
"Order ship commanders to launch rescue shuttles," Erik commanded. "Collect all pilots and damaged fighters, interceptors. Pay special attention to escape pods from Corporate Sector starships."
"It will be done, sir."
"What about the capture of the 'Lucrehulk-class' ships?" asked the Alderaanian.
"Progress is slow on the cargo ship—a large number of enemies on board. On the combat ship—half the ship is already under our control. Fleet special forces report that they have captured the bridge, and stormtroopers are proceeding to clear compartments of hidden 'corporates'."
"Has General Ventress been located?" Erik inquired.
"They suspect she is in the right half of the cargo module of the starship, but enemy infantry are blocking the way."
"A Hutt witch. Let's just hope she doesn't forget that the enemy commander is to be released," Erik thought.
"Is there anything else?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. A message has come from the fourth interceptor squadron that one starship—a modified 'Headhunter'—managed to escape. The pilots couldn't stop it—it turned out to be too accurate and dangerous an opponent. Only two pilots survived from the squadron."
Too good an opponent for the ace pilots of the fourth interceptor squadron?
Something new.
And the starship was not typical for a regular ship.
The enemy commander probably escaped.
But, damn it, what was Ventress doing then?!
***
The man, suddenly transformed from a cornered animal into a smiling person.
"You felt it too?" he asked hoarsely.
A brief flash of the Dark Side, accompanied by several deaths, disappeared.
Not perished, but at one moment in time was far beyond the witch's perception.
"It seems they abandoned you here," Ventress chuckled, continuing to slowly close the distance.
To get on the opponent's nerves, she periodically cut off the top part of the room's plating with the tip of her blades, leaving scorched trenches in it.
She had seen General Grievous do this in the past before he started killing Jedi.
Very effective.
Considering her plans to get the rogue to talk, it was better to stall for time and engage in conversation.
"That was the plan," the opponent said importantly, demonstrating a Soresu ready stance.
Memories surfaced—Obi-Wan Kenobi preferred this fencing style.
But the acolyte standing before her was not Kenobi.
"My master retreated and now knows everything about you," the opponent declared smugly, tracking her approach with his gaze. "Now your entire Dominion will burn in fire. Now we know how you fight and what you can oppose us with—your conquest will be swift and bloody. All Imperials will be exterminated, and my death will decide nothing."
The distance between them closed to ten meters, and the Dark Side adept retreated when Asajj took another, very small, step forward.
Despite his verbal bravado and knowledge of Soresu, he was scared and tried to retreat.
There was no doubt that he was not the commander of this Corporate Sector fleet formation.
The Dathomirian witch had already seen what her opponent was hoping for.
Behind him was the path to the hatch, where he intended to slip away from her.
Unfortunately for him, that wouldn't happen.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but it won't work," she said with a smirk, throwing a lightsaber at the opponent.
The energy blade, spinning around the hilt, seemed to the opponent to be directed at his head.
So it was not surprising that he ducked.
And the crimson stream of energy plunged into the wall behind him, severing the power cable to the panel.
With a light wave of the Force, Ventress returned the weapon to her hand, expertly twirling it with her wrist.
"There's nowhere left to run," she said with a smile. "If you want to survive, you'll have to defeat me."
The opponent changed his stance, holding the weapon with both hands.
His posture changed, showing that this style was more familiar to him than the Soresu demonstrated earlier.
So the little deception was revealed.
If he could have opposed her with Soresu, then Shii-Cho, the first and most basic of lightsaber forms, which all Jedi were taught at a young age, was nothing more than a game to her.
Against Jar'Kai with elements of Makashi, which she mastered perfectly, this adept was not even a full opponent for her.
Now the opponent stood with his back to a rectangular viewport, through which the last vestiges of the fading battle could be seen.
Only now, as he held the lightsaber hilt, did the Dathomirian witch notice a guard-like structure on the device, made of intertwined, curving strips of metal.
And she might not even need to test it in practice—it was made specifically to negate the possibility of damaging the lightsaber emitter and, consequently, disabling it.
The hand protection from this structure was mediocre.
"I will destroy you," the opponent hissed.
"You can at least try," Asajj corrected him. "From my experience, I can tell you that not a single Jedi has tried to do it. It just so happened that none of them succeeded. But they all served a good cause—surely their decomposed bodies fertilize the soil of dozens of worlds across the galaxy."
This admission clearly puzzled her opponent.
"You seem familiar to me," he muttered.
"Imagine me without hair," Ventress advised, contemplating whether she should just blast open the trans-paristeel of the viewport and throw the half-opponent into space instead of wasting her time.
On the other hand, by capturing him or getting him to talk, she could help the Dominion learn how many Force-sensitive beings the "Zann Consortium" had in its ranks and from where.
Given that it was previously assumed that they didn't exist at all, information from this sentient being could be much more useful than reports from scouts or even prisoners captured in this battle.
"So you are Asajj Ventress!" the opponent's eyes flashed with recognition. "Count Dooku's acolyte!"
"You guessed correctly," she smirked. "Only the old geezer has been dead for a long time, and I am alive, well, and have found a new purpose. For example—killing pseudo-Jedi, pseudo-Sith like you and your master."
Her opponent's face contorted with anger.
"You will answer for all the Jedi you have killed!" he shouted in her face, looking around with a clear intention to attack.
"Oh, so you care about the Jedi I've killed?" she smirked, taking a step aside, thus placing herself between the man and the hatch she had knocked open. "And why? Oh, don't tell me! Let me guess—you were a Jedi, weren't you?"
"I am Daana'an Kerr!" he declared with unconcealed and foolish pride. "A Jedi Knight!"
"Oh, my, my," Ventress chuckled softly. "So that's where you were hiding, little fool."
Daana'an Kerr.
"You know me?" he asked.
"There's a bounty on your head," Ventress shared, carefully searching her memory for what she knew about this man. "A fallen Jedi, known as the 'mad dark mage.' Fifteen thousand credits from the New Republic are offered for your head. True, General Krakken, now deceased, offered them."
Kerr terrorized an entire planet, subjugating its inhabitants, searching among them for those who could be trained in the ways of the Dark Side of the Force directly under his control.
But it all came down to him killing all his students, deeming them unworthy.
His atrocities spread to several sectors of the galaxy when the bounty on his head became known.
Many hunters and mercenaries died trying to even kill him—fifteen thousand credits don't just lie around.
For some reason, the New Republic did not send its favorite and overhyped Jedi—Luke Skywalker—after him, but preferred to use the services of petty bounty hunters.
As a result, none of them succeeded, and the terror born by Kerr grew and multiplied.
It was precisely to hunt down mad Jedi that Ventress was searching for her old lightsabers.
After completing a few missions, she could amass a tidy sum and lie low.
Just think—how ironic that she finally met the one for whose head she had crawled out of the shadows.
And fell into the whirlpool of Grand Admiral Thrawn's intrigues.
Unfortunately, by the time she gained any authority in the Dominion, Kerr's trail had gone cold.
It was assumed that someone had finally killed him—like most of those on General Krakken's wanted list.
So, no.
According to the information the Republicans had gathered on this man, he was indeed a member of the Jedi Order before it became a target on one's back and a Sith Lord in a stylish black armor suit on one's heels.
It was assumed that Darth Vader had finally tracked him down, but discovered that he had fallen to the Dark Side.
"I wonder why you don't serve the Empire, little traitor," Ventress continued to taunt. "Weren't you recruited as an Inquisitor, fallen Jedi?"
She already realized that this man was not worth her special attention—fighting him would be a waste of time.
It would be much more effective to provoke him, get information from him, and then—boil him over and kill him.
"I serve the Emperor!" he declared proudly. "I'm not some kind of cleaner, like those misfits from AgriCorps who became Inquisitors! I'm above all those losers!"
"Yes, except you're working for the 'Zann Consortium'," Ventress thought, noting the time when Kerr spoke of Palpatine.
"Until he was killed," she continued to play on his nerves. "Now you're no good to anyone, little fool."
"You're wrong," the fallen Jedi grinned. "I sensed changes in the Dark Side of the Force years ago. I know my master has returned to life—and I am again the conduit of his will."
Ventress's smile slowly faded from her face.
Here we go.
Palpatine's former toy knows he's alive?
And now he claims to serve his will?
This unplanned conversation with a fallen Jedi is becoming more and more interesting.
"And how can you serve a dead man, fool?" she asked. "Even the Dark Side of the Force cannot save you from death."
"Stupid acolyte," Daana'an Kerr snorted. "Palpatine is alive! I feel it because I am stronger than you! That's why I led you away from my master—so he could continue our great mission. And you, naive fool, chased after me to meet your death!"
He attacked, and not without success.
Asajj, expecting a straightforward attack, was not prepared for the hatch she had knocked open to hit the witch in the legs, throwing her off balance.
Hitting her head on the metal, the Dominion general barely managed to cross her swords to block the blow from Kerr from above.
The man, despite his frail build, turned out to be quite strong and was now trying to crush her with brute physical force.
"You thought you were playing with me," he reeked of decay, and madness swam in his eyes. "But it was I who was playing with you. While you were begging information out of me, I dug into your head."
"Don't flatter yourself with hopes…"
"Do you think Palpatine would have taken under his wing someone who couldn't easily extract all the most important secrets of his enemies directly from their heads?" he laughed. "No, darling. My telepathic abilities are far greater than those of most living Jedi…"
"And you talk too much!"
Ventress pulled both legs to her chest and kicked the opponent, throwing him several meters away.
Performing a backflip, she met his counter-attack with her blades, deflected his weapon to the side, and with pleasure plunged her second lightsaber into his chest.
But instead of dying, her opponent burst into laughter.
"Idiot!" he triumphed with madness in his eyes. "I can absorb energy! I don't feel pain—I control it!"
"Control this!"
Asajj charged him with a Force Push, but the opponent didn't fly back to the wall.
Instead, he slid a couple of meters on his feet, continuing to smile maniacally.
"I can also disperse the Force," he admitted smugly. "Oh, how much I will tell my master when I destroy you…"
But instead of the expected attack, he retreated as Ventress slowly moved forward.
"Jokes are over, little Sith," Asajj warned, discarding any desire to play with her victim.
"Unlike you, I haven't had my fill yet," he declared, continuing to retreat from her approach.
Ventress noticed his gaze beginning to unfocus, which could only mean one thing.
He was preparing to use the Force in large quantities.
She had seen this before – when dark acolytes, servants of Count Dooku, contacted their master using the Force.
More accurately – they tried.
For the most part, they were just weaklings, and telepathic communication was clearly not their strong suit.
There weren't many options for whom this Jedi errand boy could have said a word to.
The first one that came to mind was Palpatine.
And Ventress could not allow that.
For a Force-sensitive sentient to establish mental contact, it requires a little time.
Of course, if they are powerful in the Force.
Like Palpatine himself, or Anakin Skywalker.
But Kerr was clearly weaker than most Jedi she had fought.
And even his natural telepathic abilities did not allow him to perform both physical and mental labor simultaneously.
Using the Force requires concentration.
And it was precisely this that Ventress intended to disrupt.
With quick steps, she crossed the room, focusing her power.
It was unleashed in a hurricane of electricity, engulfing the unfortunate victim's flesh with bolts of blue-violet lightning.
The acolyte's body writhed in agonizing spasms until his smoking form finally collapsed on the floor.
"Why didn't you absorb my Force Lightning?" Ventress taunted the man.
She knew from experience that a Dark Side adept was easily provoked into an attack if their plans were interrupted.
And so it happened – Danaan Kerr lunged at her, lightsaber at the ready.
But he was no longer the opponent she had fought seconds ago.
His concentration was broken, and it would take him time to call upon the Force as an ally.
Now, he could only rely on his physical qualities as a fighter.
And those, after a good searing by Force Lightning, which he couldn't defend against with his lightsaber or dissipate with the Force, were, to put it mildly, not in top condition.
His movements were slow, but Asajj wasn't in a hurry to end the duel with Kerr, even though she could have ended his life in the first few seconds.
Taking such an opponent prisoner was dangerous – he could establish contact with Palpatine or his unknown master at any moment and reveal more than he should.
Disabling him and stuffing him into a company with ysalamiri was also unlikely to be accomplished without giving him a chance to convey information.
He was dangerous by his very existence.
The mere fact that his master could potentially serve Palpatine put the Dominion in a situation where they had interfered with some plans of the resurrected Emperor at a most inopportune moment.
It was unlikely that Kerr was sent to the Corporate Sector merely to silently watch as Tyber Zann subjugated one of the largest economically developed regions of the galaxy.
There had to be a plan.
There had to be.
And she needed to find out exactly what it was.
"How do you feel on the brink of defeat?" Ventress inquired, her blade movements leaving scorched marks of deep wounds on her opponent's left forearm.
"You will all die!" Danaan Kerr hissed, retreating a few steps from her. "Your turn will come. As soon as the criminals kill each other off and clear the galaxy for my master!"
Oh, so that's what it was!
Exhausted, drained to the bottom, he began to accumulate Force within himself, making no attempt to mask his intentions.
Asajj lunged forward, intending to finish him, if not with her blades, then with the hatch lying on the floor.
Kerr cut the metal to pieces, throwing them aside.
Asajj leaped, intending to strike from above, into her opponent's chest with both swords.
Kerr beat her to it.
The torrent of Force Lightning he unleashed upon her was incomparable to anything she had experienced before.
This man was strong enough.
But he was no match for Dooku.
And even he could and did make her life a living hell.
Ventress caught the streams of electricity with the lightsaber she intended to use to pierce her opponent's chest and felt herself being pushed back.
Danaan was clearly just buying time.
His gaze began to cloud over again.
With a Force Push, Asajj threw herself towards the floor, escaping the fallen Jedi's Lightning attack.
Landing, she found herself next to her opponent.
Only a couple of meters away from him.
Both blades went up…
Kerr, breaking his concentration, raised his weapon to defend against one of the swords, channeling the Force through himself to absorb the energy of her second blade…
Everything went as he had planned.
Except that Asajj intended to expose his chest and face.
Where she delivered a headbutt with particular pleasure.
The crack of a broken nose was heard, and the opponent was finally disoriented.
His weapon immediately flew aside – along with the hand gripping the hilt of the extinguished lightsaber.
With the next strike, Asajj separated her opponent's head from his torso, sending them flying at immense speeds with Force blows.
With a deafening crunch of broken bones and the squelching of bodily fluids, what remained of Danaan Kerr was smeared across the bulkhead of the mangled compartment of the "Lucrehulk-class".
Exhausted, Ventress fell to her knees, clutching her deactivated lightsabers.
The woman turned to the Force, extending her awareness to the surrounding space.
If she hadn't made it in time, if Kerr had still contacted someone, established mental contact, she would be able to detect residual phenomena…
Empty.
The Force was calm, and she detected no attention directed towards this sector of galactic space, easily detectable even at a distance by those connected to the Force.
She had succeeded.
Danaan Kerr died without being able to inform anyone of anything he might have known.
The woman sat like that for several minutes, trying to quell the raging flames of the Dark Side within her.
A long-forgotten joy from killing an opponent with particular cruelty spread through her body like a pleasant languor, stirring her hunting instincts and demanding further bloodshed.
Ventress suppressed this feeling with an effort of will.
Years had passed.
She was no longer a mad beast-killer on a leash held by Dooku or Palpatine.
Her life, her emotions, and her thirst for killing belonged only to her.
To no one else.
She, not the Dark Side, would decide who died and when.
Only this way.
Finding the strength to stand, Ventress invigorated herself with the Force.
"Rest is a lie," she muttered under her breath, striding back through the corridors towards the landing deck.
She stood by her damaged fighter, pondering whether anything – the Sith Code or the Jedi Code – was even remotely true.
It was there that the considerably thinned detachment of fleet special forces found her.
***
"The enemy in the Bosph sector has been completely destroyed," reported the hologram of Rear Admiral Shohashi. "As ordered – the operation commander 'managed to slip away from us.' Counterintelligence is currently working with the captured prisoners. All obtained data will be transferred to you and Colonel Astarion's department."
"So, I take it you have trophies as well?" I inquired.
"Five Venator-class Star Destroyers, a similar number of first-modification Acclamators, two Lucrehulk-class ships, and a dozen Imperial-modified Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers," Shohashi continued. "There are also six ships of this type of Rendili design."
In other words – slow, without hangars, and with enormous personnel requirements.
No matter, they would join the queue for modernization, like all the other starships that were Dominion trophies.
"Understood, Rear Admiral," I replied. "Excellent work. You know what to do next."
"Yes, sir," Shohashi said, snapping a salute, and then dissolved.
Leaving me alone with the hologram of Asajj Ventress, who was waiting for her turn.
"You wanted to speak with me in secret from the Rear Admiral, General," I reminded him. "Do you have anything to add?"
"Yes," Ventress said hoarsely.
It took her five minutes to recount her story – from the unplanned adjustment of the plan to the destruction of the fallen Jedi Danaan Kerr.
"Are your words verbatim quotes?" I inquired.
"Yes, Grand Admiral," Ventress nodded. "When he spoke, I felt that he believed it. This is not an attempt to mislead. It is the triumph of a madman confident in victory. I did everything to destroy him and prevent any possibility of him communicating with anyone through the Force."
"Commendable," I said. "And at the same time, you understand that it is unacceptable to unilaterally change the original plan without coordinating with Shohashi? You are his subordinate. Not the other way around."
"My plan gave us an understanding that Palpatine has his own people in the Corporate Sector," Ventress bared her teeth. "Possibly even in the Zann Consortium."
"Such a possibility was considered," I agreed, greatly puzzling the Dathomirian witch. "We haven't heard anything about Palpatine's agents for a long time, whereas in the past they didn't hide much. From the words of your deceased opponent, certain conclusions can be drawn."
"That Palpatine is monitoring the development of crime in his own backyard?" the Dathomirian suggested.
"That Palpatine, by pushing the Imperial Remnants to weaken the New Republic, couldn't help but understand that his forces might have to confront organized crime. And that he wouldn't overlook even neutral systems. I suspect his agents are continuing their work – but now in those territories of the galaxy that previously provided the Empire with money. War is a rather costly endeavor. And power and influence are things that should not be lost, otherwise they will have to be conquered anew in the future. Your actions helped confirm my hypothesis. Therefore, no sanctions will be applied to you for disobeying orders. In the future, please do not forget – you will not always be able to benefit the common cause with actions that go against the approved plan. Inform Shohashi about what you intend to do against orders. Next time, I may not be as merciful as I am now. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly," Ventress replied dryly. "May I hope that when the time comes, I will be allowed to join the strike group to eliminate Palpatine?"
"For that, there is the Shadow Guard, which you refused to join," I reminded her. "Or has your decision changed?"
"No," Ventress answered quickly. "I just refreshed my memory, recalling that Dooku intended to kill me on Sidious's orders. I wouldn't want to leave that attempt unanswered."
"I will remember your wish," a wry smile flickered across the Dathomirian witch's hologram. "But I won't promise it will be fulfilled. On the other hand, you can negotiate with Rear Admiral Shohashi. He is practically an expert at negotiating with me to coordinate and fulfill his wishes."
"The 'Butcher'?" Ventress asked with genuine surprise. "He knows how to negotiate? Are we talking about the same person, Grand Admiral?"
"The same," I confirmed. "I think you, more than anyone else, should understand what 'multifacetedness of a sentient being' means. Rear Admiral Shohashi can still surprise you if you stop thinking of him as a hollow-headed soldier obsessed with following orders."
A snort came from Ventress.
"I heard you, Grand Admiral," she said seriously. "End communication."
When this hologram also went dark, I leaned back in my chair.
"It's hard to be Cupid," I involuntarily blurted out.
The moment of relaxation was over, and it was time to get back to work.
One duel had added quite a lot of food for thought.
Embedding an agent in the Corporate Sector is quite logical.
And unusual, as I had assumed Palpatine was insane and paid no attention to what was happening in the galaxy if it went against his personal ambitions and goals.
It turns out, otherwise.
The situation needs to be considered.
It is likely that the infiltration occurred from more than one side.
An oversight.
The plan will have to be adjusted.
Not too drastically, but another total purge is postponed.
Not canceled – which would be fundamentally wrong.
It's just shifted to the right in terms of timing.
Well, war plans are only valid until the first battle.
I have the time and opportunities to control the changes for the better.
The role of a dead man has quite a few advantages, in fact.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan