Bonus chapter unlocked. Thanks for all the Power Stones.
By the way, there is currently a 30% discount on my Patreon. And there are like 4 more star wars fics to read. With 3 more coming soon.
Enjoy reading.
***
"Irv, that talking head of yours sure knows something about war," Tyberos assessed, looking at Aut-O's mechanical "skull." "Never thought you shouldn't have hidden him earlier, huh?"
The Separatist tactical super-droid was giving orders, making comments, and simultaneously explaining various aspects of enemy tactics.
"I did," the commander of the Tatooine replied seriously. "And the fact that you know about him doesn't please me either."
"You can't fool a Jedi," Tyberos smirked, caressing his tomahawks lovingly. "But if that one-armed kid doesn't show up here, I'll personally blow his electronic brains out. Because we lost quite a few gangs to lure him here."
"Those gangs were practically unrelated to the Dominion," Aut-O remarked calmly. "Their destruction is a good thing."
"Funny to hear that from a droid," Tyberos laughed, looking at the droid attached to the armrest of the command chair on the starship serving as the formation's flagship.
"I'm optimizing our work," it replied. "We all knew that sooner or later those local gangs would become a big problem for us. Having them exterminated by someone else's hands is an excellent way to achieve results without suffering ourselves in those battles."
"And how is it that with such a cunning robot you haven't become the terror of pirates yet?" Tyberos looked at Irv with a smirk.
"I don't need that," Irv countered.
Frankly, if the goal of the raiders hadn't been to draw out the off-the-rails clone of Darth Vader's former apprentice, Irv wouldn't have revealed his secret to Tyberos.
Though what kind of secret could it be when, in a conversation with Thrawn, the latter had almost directly said he had assessed Irv's own tactical abilities in past battles and identified a dual line of behavior.
One — characteristic of Irv himself.
The second — of the tactical super-droid's artificial intelligence.
No, the Grand Admiral didn't even demand confession, saying, "you've been holding back valuable thirty-year-old junk from the Dominion."
He just noted it, "as if in passing," making the Captain seriously nervous and giving him quite a few gray hairs.
Because you never know what a conversation with Thrawn about an offense or concealment of something valuable will end with — execution, a simple warning with a heart attack, a stern warning with confiscation of the "trinket," or a suddenly awakened sense of shame after a long slumber.
Oddly enough, Irv got off with the second.
And Thrawn had nothing to do with the heart attack — Irv gave himself one running through scenarios of what might be done to him on the Grand Admiral's orders for what he'd done.
Thrawn, in a gentle tone, pointed out that doing such things in the future was not advisable, as it was fraught with a volley of tibanna injections administered by a squad of stormtroopers.
Why the Grand Admiral didn't take Aut-O's head from him, Irv also didn't understand.
Because even as a training aid for tactics, a super-droid that had never been deactivated all this time, storing numerous tactical and strategic schemas from the past in its head, and even capable of generating them at enormous speed — that was practically a tactical superweapon that would be oh so difficult to deal with…
According to Tyberos's stories, Kavil's Corsairs had encountered three tactical super-droids on Serenno, which had staged a bloody massacre for the Baroness's troops, mercenaries, and even the 501st Legion, wiping out the entire capital's population in an attempt to create their own droid empire under the flag of the long-dead Confederacy of Independent Systems.
The tactical super-droid fragment named Aut-O was even somewhat disappointed and saddened that Thrawn hadn't tried to take it.
"That sentient is capable of understanding what tactics and strategy are," it had said after Irv's explanations about the meeting with the Grand Admiral. "But for some reason, he consciously shoots himself in the foot by not taking me from such incompetents and making me his right hand. My talents are so great and incomprehensible to you, as if I had lived millions of lives and become filled with an understanding of military science at a level surpassing all known commanders."
However, this arrogant piece of metal, plastic, and circuit boards had never been able to determine the reason why Thrawn didn't want to get it.
Nor to destroy it, like those three tactical super-droids on Serenno, from whose remains they had created an entire ceremony in the planet's capital.
But that was a separate story.
At the moment, Irv and Tyberos were performing a completely different task assigned by the Dominion.
And finding the clone of Galen Marek was only one part of the problem.
The second, and most important, was to demonstrate to the Tammuz sector that the Galactic Alliance wasn't as harmless as they thought.
Even if this was just the beginning of the campaign and they'd have to work hard to put everything in its place.
But this part of the galaxy would belong to the Dominion.
And for now…
"Sir," the voice of the scanning system operator distracted Irv from his thoughts. "We've detected a Corellian YT-1300 series freighter in the system. Judging by speed and maneuverability, heavily modified. Heading for the Tatooine."
"Send a duty squadron to intercept," Irv ordered. "We need to find out who he is…"
"No need," Tyberos snorted, wiping invisible dust off his weapon with a hand gesture. "I'll tell you. Marek's clone has arrived. Everything worked as planned."
Irv felt a sudden sinking feeling inside.
The one who, according to rumors, had fought Darth Vader on equal terms had shown up.
And defeated him.
"Don't lose your nerve, Irv," Tyberos clapped him encouragingly on the shoulder. "Everything's going according to plan. Better make sure the Alliance commander leaves here not quite dead, full of ideas about continuing the Alliance's crusade against the Tammuz sector. Did we borrow all those droids from Thrawn for nothing?"
"I propose blowing them all up along with the ships," Aut-O offered its opinion. "More than half of our fleet would be ideally suited as fire-ships due to their droid crews and…"
The tactical super-droid fell silent as the tip of Tyberos's tomahawk scraped across the top of its head with a metallic screech.
"Don't go beyond the plan, you hunk of metal," the head of Kavil's Corsairs said with a smirk. "Send droids to meet him, lots of them. Let the kid think someone here is afraid of him, and…"
"I've already dispatched seven groups of shipboard security," Aut-O snapped. "Using only droids will make the clone understand that he's being lured into a trap. There is a seventy-three-point-five percent probability that realizing this, he'll start fighting his way out by another route and the Grand Admiral's plan won't be used."
"Stop, what?" Irv blinked. "Isn't the plan to lure that bastard here and kill him? That's why the commandos were sent, isn't it?"
He nodded toward the four fighters standing near the main entrance to the bridge, who were sorting through a weapons transport container.
"Wee-e-e-ell…" Tyberos drawled. "Not exactly. You see, there's a reason most of the fleet is made up of droids. Aut-0, think it's time?"
"I will give the command when it is necessary to move toward the escape ship," the tactical super-droid's head recited crisply. "For now, we must ensure he does not discern the final plan."
"Guys," Irvin pulled out a cigar and began lighting it. "Nobody wants to tell me anything, huh?"
"Nope," Tyberos said with a smug grin.
"Absolutely," Aut-0 stated.
"In cahoots, huh," the commander of the Tatooine squinted. "All your scheming stinks to high heaven, you know…"
* * *
The ship spun and jerked as Galen executed his incomprehensible maneuvers, and even the inertial compensators couldn't keep up with his piloting style.
This old but still technically pristine ship raced through the enemy formation.
He dodged incoming fire, torpedoes, and missiles launched his way, slipping within meters of enemy hulls.
Galen was driving the Millennium Falcon straight for the enemy flagship with no intention of becoming anyone's prey.
He fired back and never missed, atomizing enemy pilots, or, in the case of skilled starfighter or interceptor pilots, simply knocking them out of the fight.
Sent spinning out of control, they all hated him, unable to comprehend how anyone could be so devastatingly precise.
They thought it was luck.
Or the skill of the Millennium Falcon's pilot and gunners.
But it wasn't.
Aboard the starship, Galen was the only living being.
And there weren't any droids on board, either.
He was the pilot and the executioner.
Sure, he could operate the guns from the cockpit, but then his shooting would be far too inaccurate.
Weapons crave direct control.
And Galen gave it to them.
He'd heard that Luke Skywalker had pulled this trick when destroying the leader of the Night Sisters, Gethzerion.
That happened a couple of years ago, over Dathomir.
Right around the time the New Republic put a decisive end to the warlord Zsinj.
But right now, that was the least of his concerns.
If only because he shouldn't have any other thoughts beyond getting aboard the Tatooine, finding, and destroying the one who defiled Juno's memory.
And, as he'd gathered from the chatter—also the one who'd taken his hand.
They were both here.
Both of them were now preparing to destroy what remained of the Galactic Alliance battle group.
Galen couldn't care less about that last part—the Dark Side demanded something entirely different from him.
It gave him power the Jedi would consider wrong, corrupt, even fantastical.
He was single-handedly flying a starship.
That fact alone made him far more powerful than the Jedi could ever imagine.
Still, nothing came easily to Galen, not as easily as the revenge-consumed clone would have liked.
His clothes, his entire body, even his hair and the synth-flesh covering his prosthetic—all soaked through with sweat.
To make all those countless levers and buttons on the control panels obey his will, he had to control them simultaneously.
To split himself across dozens of separate fronts in the war he waged against the machinery, while the Dark Side craved kills.
Galen was doing triple duty: pilot, co-pilot, and gunner.
He launched missiles at a target while simultaneously using cannon fire to destroy a pair of light interceptors that had tried to punch through his aft deflectors.
Galen didn't even spare a glance at the two fire-flowers blooming behind him.
His entire attention was focused on the missiles he'd fired at the armor plate shielding the flight deck, watching them hit exactly where he intended.
Because he had no more ammunition of that power, and trying to punch through that thick armor with laser cannons would take far too long.
The heat of vengeance and rage burned him from within.
That same heat that had allowed his hands to rid the galaxy of thousands of criminals.
He'd destroyed, what, dozens of pirate nests and other scum, acting solely on information that his future victims knew something about enemy raiders.
And that path had led him here.
Though, to do that, he'd had to track down and capture a Republic officer who was in charge of refitting ships as fire-ships and minesweepers for the second battle group.
It was that officer who told him where Admiral Arkh was heading and what exactly he intended to find on that planet.
The delay had been significant, but thank Han Solo for keeping his ship in such immaculate condition and such excellent technical state.
Though, at the edge of his mind, a thought nagged that the credit really belonged to the late Grand Admiral Thrawn, who had once owned this ship by right of might.
None of that mattered now.
The locking mechanisms for the armor plate were gone, swallowed in a blinding explosion, but the atmospheric field itself—preventing the flight deck from being exposed to the silence of vacuum—had survived.
He had to pull into a turn to use his cannons to widen the passage into the Tatooine.
The enemy gunners also sprang to life—as did the pilots of the battlecruiser's escort.
Galen engaged the maneuvering thrusters, and the Falcon dodged the incoming fire by diving sharply downward.
In response, he unleashed bursts from his laser cannons, finally carving out the necessary passage for his ship.
Then he destroyed the pursuing Dominion fighters as well.
Galen sank deep into the Force, not even looking at the screens.
His perception stretched far beyond the piloted ship, far beyond the information provided by the electronic instruments on the control panel.
He knew the location of every vessel engaged in the conflict: those under Galactic Alliance control and those belonging to the enemy.
He felt every salvo of fire, every subtle turn and roll, every movement and counter-maneuver made by each ship.
Often, he sensed it before it even happened.
The Galactic Alliance fleet was in complete disarray.
They'd already lost the majority of their small craft, and their main force was now just a memory.
The charred, feebly firing Star Tide was slowly closing with the brand-new Tatooine.
Both giants, teetering on the edge of destruction, had only just launched their fighters to counter the threat of the rapidly approaching enemy small craft.
Redirecting their heavy guns, the bulky Mon Calamari Alliance ships were counting on support vessels to create defensive lines to hold back the enemy.
Without those lines, they were virtually defenseless against the faster, more agile ships of Kavil's Corsairs.
And this was already happening on the battlefield.
The enemy had used fire-ship tactics and detonated a massive asteroid, depriving the Alliance forces of light support.
Even without being well-versed in military tactics, Galen understood that the Galactic Alliance would have a very, very hard time in this battle.
As he performed advanced aerobatics, flying fearlessly into a minefield and using the Corellian starship's speed to evade the slow (compared to the Falcon) self-propelled munitions, the Tatooine slipped through the passage the Alliance had blasted open.
Kavil's Corsairs' flagship settled onto a vector that reduced the number of guns the damaged Star Tide and its support ships could bring to bear.
Kavil's Corsairs' flotilla, consisting mainly of Arquitens-class light cruisers, Carrack-class cruisers, Lancer-class frigates, Consular-class cruisers, Corellian CR90s and DP20s, were circling the Galactic Alliance ships, cutting them off from the Star Tide while managing to pour fire from all their guns.
The agile Dominion mercenary starships used their speed and numerical advantage, mercilessly separating one group of Alliance warships from another.
No matter what course the clearly panicking Alliance fighters took, deprived of communication by a jamming station the mercenaries had somehow acquired, Kavil's Corsairs' fleet was already waiting for them.
Relentlessly hammering with fire from all weapon types and bombarding them with HEAT missiles, proton torpedoes, and simple bombs, the Dominion forces knocked out one Alliance starship after another.
Without fighter support, the large Galactic Alliance starships couldn't withstand this relentless assault and brazen mockery for long.
Galen felt it: the panic spreading among the soldiers and commanders of the Galactic Alliance.
The enemy attack was a pure insult, a slap in the face.
The Alliance had an equal number of starships, but counting on a short fight, they had divided them into squads to simplify a subsequent landing operation.
Now, to engage the enemy, they needed to turn around and join the ships that were already being preyed upon by the mercenary gunners and pilots.
The rebels' favorite tactic—numerical superiority in small craft—had been countered, and now the large starships were facing a swarm of agile, hard-hitting ships from Kavil's Corsairs.
The Alliance commanders were unable to coordinate their efforts, unable to create defensive lines.
They couldn't even manage a decent retreat… escape was simply impossible.
Their minesweeper cruisers had been destroyed first in this battle, crippled by their own gravity mines.
They had become easy targets for bombers and the Tatooine's heavy turbolasers.
Attempts by individual commanders and ships to break through the minefield only resulted in damage to their starships and their subsequent destruction by mercenary guns.
The outcome of this battle was clear—the Galactic Alliance battle group would be torn to pieces.
Calling upon the power of the Dark Side, Galen extended his influence to touch the minds of the enemy.
They were grim, but felt no elation or strong joy at the explosions of Galactic Alliance ships.
Yes, some among them exulted, destroying enemy fighters over and over, or felt delight when another strike frigate exploded under their fire.
But for the most part, Kavil's Corsairs operated with a repulsive pedantry.
Discipline, purposefulness, determination.
Like droids, they did their job, scrubbing the planet's orbit clean of debris.
Some were genuinely scared, but not panicking.
The main bulk, though…
It was strange that they radiated only threat, but no emotions.
And even that only at the moment of attack.
Droids?
If so, too bad for them.
Galen bided his time, waiting for an opportunity to continue his plan.
The anti-fighter guns slackened their fire when several squadrons of Kavil's Corsairs' light interceptors went to rotate into the Tatooine's main hangar.
Galen, gripping the controls, threw his ship after them.
The Millennium Falcon was back on the battlefield, blazing away at enemy fighters with all its guns.
In the minute it took him to close with the enemy flagship, he had destroyed no less than a squadron.
Flying half a meter from the armor of the Star Tide, which had closed to short range with its counterpart, the Tatooine, Galen used the Corellian freighter's guns to clear a path into the enemy flagship's main hangar.
The Tatooine's defensive weaponry simply couldn't harm him in time, only stripping his deflectors.
His cannon fire swept across the technicians in the hangar, crippling or destroying fighters and interceptors. Then, choosing a landing spot, Galen cleared it with his guns.
Immediately after, as soon as the ship's landing struts touched the flight deck, the clone rushed to the boarding ramp.
He was met with a hail of small arms fire, but stopping Galen wasn't that easy.
He used the Force for acceleration, killing almost all the soldiers unlucky enough to be inside.
Leaving two dozen of Kavil's Corsairs' operatives behind him, with the killing lust of a war beast, he listened to the Force.
He felt faint traces of Force energy emanating from where the ship's bridge was located.
The one who had taken his hand was there.
And in his emotions, Galen could read mockery, condescension, and a desire to finish what he'd started.
This concentration nearly cost Galen his life when fresh would-be corpses arrived and attacked him.
He launched himself from a standstill, jumping upward, noting that they had come from the corridor he needed to reach his goal.
Landing nimbly on his feet behind them, he ignited his lightsaber in one smooth motion.
The first wide arc of white-blue energy caught the blaster fire from two of the fighters and safely deflected it.
With a burst of speed, Galen closed the distance between him and the fighters, then, with a couple of swings, cut all four of them to pieces, ending their lives.
Galen paused, assessing the situation.
He was still tracking his enemy's emotions, and the latter's triumph seemed strange to him.
Last time, this giant had charged headlong forward; now he was patiently waiting for the clone on the bridge.
What could it be but an ambush?
Excellent, he'd walk right into it.
Smiling, he crossed the threshold of the airlock leading into the ship's interior.
Walk into it, and tear them all apart there with his bare hands.
Teeth, if necessary.
* * *
Quickly and confidently, he strode through the corridors, guided by that faint Force radiating from his enemy, like a nexu tracking wounded prey that smelled of delicious blood.
In one corridor, a security team intercepted him.
Though…
Intercepted?
They tried, you couldn't deny them stupidity and courage.
The heavy weapons and quality armor indicated that these were elite fighters from Kavil's Corsairs.
Veterans entrusted with such expensive weaponry and gear.
They'd probably even been trained in some special way.
From the way they set up their defense, how they moved, and what tactics they chose, Galen instantly understood they had been trained to Imperial standards and methods.
A couple of them even managed to get a shot off at him before they were cut to pieces, brutally diced by the clone.
He made no exceptions for sentients or droids—he mowed down everyone with equal efficiency, leaving behind only countless chunks of flesh and machinery.
Galen entered a large compartment with several exits—a junction where several corridors met.
Almost immediately, someone fired a heavy blaster at him, but he was faster.
He sensed the target—the single living shooter among all those who intended to kill him in this room.
He didn't even bother engaging in a fight; it was beneath his dignity and wasted time.
His target, the one he was pursuing, was currently moving.
Instead of hacking the man and the droids to pieces, he simply thrust a massive fist forward and hurled them away with the Force.
The man was stunned by the impact, while the useless B-1s shattered into pieces the moment they hit the bulkheads.
By the time the operative unsteadily got to his feet, his droids were no longer a threat.
The surviving fighter, fear on his face and panic in his emotions, began to retreat as Galen slowly advanced.
The survivor, panicking, tried to hide from him, but still couldn't grasp that backing away was stupid.
Though, had he turned his back, Galen would have killed him without a second thought on the spot.
He just walked, focusing his power.
When the fighter reached another room, he realized he couldn't escape death.
He seemed to have never understood that, while retreating, he'd automatically used his access card, unlocking a good dozen blast doors that could have delayed the clone on his way to his goal.
Instead, the fool had led him as close as possible.
"You probably deserve a bonus for that," Galen smirked just before delivering the blow.
He released his accumulated power in a storm of electricity, wrapping the flesh of the unfortunate victim in bolts of blue-violet lightning.
The coward's body danced in the throes of agony until his smoking corpse finally crumpled to the floor.
The body reeked of ozone, burned hair, and charred flesh—a scent that could knock someone down.
But Galen had smelled it far too often in recent years not to have grown accustomed to the aftermath of his actions.
So, he had reached his goal.
The blast doors leading directly to the bridge.
And his target was here.
The monster with the tonfas who had taken his hand.
But the second one…
The second one was clearly hiding, because Galen sensed no one else in the compartment.
Only Force distortions, bubbles that the Dominion used to conceal their leaders.
It was more than obvious that an ambush lay ahead.
He had been deliberately lured here to save Captain Irvin, who had defiled this ship with his filthy hands.
For a moment, Galen thought he was over-dramatizing the situation, and that Juno definitely wouldn't want…
But the next second, calling upon the Force, he pushed the doors apart, breaking the locking mechanism and half the bulkheads.
As he expected, only Tyberos was inside.
He was lounging in the command chair, idly twirling his tonfas as if they were toys.
"Took you long enough to get here," the giant chuckled, his mask's red lenses gleaming. "I was starting to think you'd cry in a corner before the fight, like a typical Jedi…"
"I am not a Jedi," Galen cut him off, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it at his opponent. "I will kill you today! Here and now!"
"Are you thinking with your bone marrow?" Tyberos asked in surprise, clacking his paired weapons together.
"Dun Moch won't work on me!"
"Then use your head, not your ass, you fool. You couldn't handle me when you had two swords and backup from your friends. Now you have neither. And only one hand."
For an instant, that part of Galen still loyal to the Light Side of the Force tried to appeal, saying there was logic in those words, truth, and besides, there were bubbles nearby blocking the Force…
Galen only reacted to the last part.
Glancing quickly around the bridge, he found it empty.
Not the slightest hint of anyone else's presence…
And the Force was silent—except for these bubbles, clearly connected to the lizards in the cages; here, there was no one else besides the two of them.
No one and nothing.
"You—will die," Galen repeated his intentions like a mantra, taking a step forward.
Cold washed over him—the bubbles repelling the Force intersected in this spot, preventing him from building up a furious speed.
Only a normal run.
But it was only about fifteen meters to the target.
"I will kill you!" Galen, even if he couldn't feel the Force, was overflowing with rage.
He had sensed Tyberos before entering the zone of those lizards, hadn't he?
So the Force was further ahead, but not here…
"Whatever you say, idiot," Tyberos laughed.
Galen caught movement ahead and to his sides with his eyes.
The Force and his other senses were silent.
For an instant, he saw four figures in armor with various colors and patterns, aiming at him…
Geonosian sonic blasters.
He had almost reached the edge of the Force-blocking zone when the first shot from a sonic blaster struck him.
Thrown aside, he slammed his shoulder into a system control terminal, its casing flying off.
"Scorch, now!" shouted the one who had fired first.
The concussion charge detonated, but only struck his lower legs as the clone leaped aside, understanding the danger of the explosive device spotted in the panel.
Galen got to his feet, managing to dart toward one of the four armored fighters.
The one with the red handprint on his helmet.
And immediately saw the nozzle of a flamethrower aimed his way.
His prosthetic arm hung limply, and the hilt of his lightsaber was gone from it; he had nothing to strike with.
Simultaneously with the jet of flame hitting him, Galen rolled aside, ripping off his burning cloak.
Thankfully, it was designed for such missions, and the clothes underneath didn't ignite.
The moment he was on his feet, he had to evade the greenish ring of another sonic blaster shot.
A short roll left the impact zone behind him, fully aware of this type of weapon's weakness.
It wasn't rapid-fire.
So…
Rising to his full height, he threw a glance at the exit, realizing that his best option right now was to escape.
It took him half a second to realize this and dodge another jet of flame.
However, in the spot where he landed, right at the threshold of the bridge entrance, he was momentarily illuminated by an inner fire—the Force was with him again.
But in that same instant, he was flying face-first into the bulkhead right in front of him.
Colliding with the metal, he only grunted, managing to soften the fall with the Force at the last moment and…
The next moment, he felt something sharp slice across his ribs, tearing the fabric armor on his side, and the cut on his skin immediately began to grow cold, along with his entire body.
His consciousness started to cloud, and the world before his eyes swam.
His muscles felt wooden, and only by some unnatural means did the Force still help him hold himself together.
Then the pain came—his internal organs and the brain in his head seemed to want to tear their way out.
He no longer controlled himself, unable to even get to his feet—he had to brace his hands against the wall in front of him.
But worst of all, at the same time, the Force began to leave him, as if this cut had somehow drained it from the clone.
No, the Force was still with him.
Just…
His thoughts…
They… were getting tangled.
Like shoelaces on boots.
Like the vines on Kashyyyk…
Like…
Why were his arms no longer so strong?
His body felt filled with icy metal, and his thoughts…
He lacked the willpower to call upon the Force and cleanse himself of the poison.
I need to run before they figure out what's going on.
But aren't they right here?
I have to... look.
Turning around, Galen saw only the crimson oculars of a mask and a fist flying toward his face, gripping the handle of a war hammer.
For a moment, he thought that besides blood, there was a pale-yellow coating on the edges of that weapon's blade.
The blow snapped Galen's head back, the back of his skull slammed into the bulkhead, and his consciousness decided it had had enough.
The would-be avenger's body crumpled to the floor.
* * *
"Sucker," Tyberos snorted, slipping specially designed sheaths over the chopping edges of his war hammers.
Thanks to them, the senflax that had been applied to them and had already turned to powder wouldn't get anywhere it wasn't supposed to.
Crouching beside him, he grabbed the disoriented and unconscious clone by the scruff of the neck and stood up.
Holding him effortlessly, he looked at the four clone commandos approaching him.
"I expected more from the elite soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic," he said in a bored tone.
"The order was to take him alive," said the one who had introduced himself as Boss. "We had to be careful."
"What the kriff did Thrawn send you for if I could have pulled his arms and legs off all by myself and swapped them around for good measure?" the head of Kavil's Corsairs mused thoughtfully, studying the helpless body of the prisoner before him like a prize he'd just bagged on a hunt.
Which, in fact, it was — just an unusual kind of hunt.
"He needs to be in this condition," Boss cut him off, casually resting his hand on his blaster rifle.
Tyberos glanced at the other commandos.
They did the same.
And, what was most gratifying — these guys had positioned themselves to deny him any room to maneuver.
Ready to attack at any moment if he disobeyed.
It would be interesting to fight them.
Except they were Dominion military, and killing them was out of the question.
And a sparring match just to test his strength and skills didn't interest Tyberos in any form.
"Take this bantha poodoo," he said, releasing his fingers. Galen dropped like a sack to the floor, his metal hand clinking distinctly against the deck. "I've done my job — lured this fool in, played the victim. And don't forget to remind him that I'm owed a bonus for figuring out how to knock out a Jedi."
"That will be noted in the report, sir," Boss said. At his signal, two of his soldiers — a demolitions expert and a flamethrower operator — grabbed the unconscious body under the arms and dragged it down the corridor toward the flight deck. "I remind you that your mission is not to destroy the second battle group of the Galactic Alliance, but to rout it, allowing their warlord to escape."
"If Thrawn knew how sick I am of all these games," Tyberos growled. "I'd smear them across the vacuum into stardust and not bother with the formalities!"
"Those are the orders, sir," Boss said dryly, extending a hand palm-up. "His lightsaber, sir. We're also taking the Millennium Falcon."
"And they take my trophies too," Tyberos said irritably, placing the clone's lightsaber, which he'd picked up, into the clone's palm. "Can't you at least wait until the battle is over?"
"No, sir. We have a tight schedule. Make arrangements for our Gozanti to be brought to launch position from the storage deck. We're leaving immediately and that's not up for discussion."
"Well, sure, of course. Get out of my sight, all orders will be given," Tyberos grumbled.
The clone, without another word, clipped the prisoner's weapon to his belt and, waving to the last soldier, briskly strode down the corridor after the first two.
Tyberos watched the backs of these pompous bastards but said nothing — it would have been stupid.
Instead, he looked across the bridge at the flagship of the second battle group of the Galactic Alliance, covered in black soot and being pummeled by his fleet.
The Star Tide was already so battered that even its few turbolaser shots couldn't penetrate the deflectors of the Tatooine, which continued to pound the enemy.
"Irvin," Tyberos activated the comlink built into his mask. "Our guests from the Dominion are leaving. They're taking the Falcon with them. And that stupid clone we captured too."
"That's rude of them," came the reply. "So they left you empty-handed, Tyberos?"
"Don't get cheeky," he replied. "Better get the talking head to come up with a plan for us to arrange the enemy commander's escape. Otherwise, his tub is about to fall apart any minute..."
"The plan is ready," Aut-O announced, connecting to the comm channel. "The asteroid explosion created a large gap in the minefield. We just need to point the enemy to the exit, and they'll stampede for it."
"Then do it!" Tyberos commanded. "Let them haul their junk to the Dac shipyards."
The newest battle cruiser, returning from its campaign in the state of scrap metal.
And that's on top of losing half (if not more) of the ships that made up the battle group.
Yes, this will undermine enemy morale more than total annihilation, which the Alliance might not even learn about anytime soon.
Still, why did Thrawn decide to capture this sucker alive, and why didn't he want them to inject him with a larger dose of narcotics?
He's obviously going to come around in a while.
At first, Tyberos thought about mentioning this to the commandos, but then just waved his hand.
To hell with all of them.
He hadn't gotten any enjoyment out of the fight anyway.
So let this sucker at least escape — it'll be fun to hunt him once or twice more.
Maybe after he escapes, Thrawn will get tired of playing games with his enemies and start finishing them off like before?
What, too crazy?
Admiral Ackbar, for instance, found his spectacular end on the surface of Centax-II.
Or was that not Thrawn's fault, but just Mon Calamari being bad at parking their star cruisers?
Something to think about, certainly.
Hmm... Maybe fly to Zeltron? Relax, blow off some steam...
Could go to Tavira, but... Better not.
Getting involved with a crazy woman is more trouble than it's worth.
Maybe tap her on the head with my hammer?
Could do, but as a Moff, she's good; as a person, though, she's a total fool, and clingy to boot.
Decision made!
I need to save a ship full of slaves — those girls will definitely be grateful for the rest of their lives after being freed, and they won't eat up my brain.
Now, I need to find some slavers...
* * *
The briefing from the Yavin group dragged on for several hours.
Everyone had a chance to speak.
But the gist of the content was the same.
Despite the fact that our Force-sensitive and non-Force-sensitive troops had literally turned over every square meter of jungle on the moon, not to mention the structures, Exar Kun's Ghost had still not made contact with any of them.
He hadn't even appeared.
Which was rather strange.
In the events I knew, he hadn't been bothered even by the presence of such a strong Force-sensitive as Luke Skywalker right under his nose.
He had diligently sought out one candidate after another, seducing would-be Jedi with tales of the Dark Side's power.
He had acted practically right under Skywalker's nose.
A Skywalker who, even after defeating Palpatine, he didn't consider a worthy opponent.
The question arises: what's going on?
Personally, I have two theories.
First: Exar Kun's Ghost fears our strong Force-sensitives, who are far more numerous on the moon than just one Jedi.
Not to mention that they are all trained or kept under the tight supervision of their mentors.
Second: contact has occurred, but the one who was tempted isn't revealing himself, which is why we have no information.
If the second scenario is correct, then there will be no progress in our endeavor.
The group has been informed that Ahsoka possesses the knowledge to destroy a Force Ghost, and if any of them have fallen under Exar Kun's influence, well, then events are defying logic again.
What should a Dark Lord of the Sith do when he learns that someone capable of finally destroying him is within his domain?
Correct — just like with Luke Skywalker, he should have neutralized the threat.
But Ahsoka Tano is alive, well, and no deviations in her behavior have been noticed that would suggest she had personally become a victim of Kun's manipulations.
Absolutely nothing has changed!
This shouldn't be happening!
The plan was precisely to lure him out with bait!
That's exactly why Kyp Durron, Kun's second would-be "apprentice," is hanging around here.
But even he, the Ghost hasn't tried to seduce!
Well, due to the complete lack of any news, that's why I brought Gantoris here on board the Guardian.
The one who, in the events I know, was the first to be seduced by Kun to the Dark Side, and to whom he even revealed some secrets of lightsaber construction.
But... what's going wrong?
"Could it be that everyone present in the cleanup team is simply too strong for Kun?" Snow Queen suddenly asked into the air, present at the meeting.
"Excuse me?" Mace Windu looked at her curiously, showing not the slightest sign of awe toward Snow Queen.
"She means that trained Force-sensitives who can resist the Dark Side of the Force might not be interesting to the Ghost," said Ahsoka Tano. "Kyp has always had Asajj around, who can certainly twist Kun's brain inside out thanks to her experience dealing with Dooku, and generally understands what the Sith really are. Master Windu, Mara, myself — we've completed our training, and the temptations of the Dark Side hold no interest for us. What can a Sith Lord offer those who have become Jedi?" she asked, posing a rhetorical question, but when her eyes met mine, she looked away and added:
"Well, almost Jedi, to be precise. Old habit."
"Anakin Skywalker would disagree with you," I countered, voicing my thoughts on the matter.
That's precisely why the most prepared forces had been sent here to deal with the Sith.
It had cost Palpatine nothing to turn the most powerful of the Jedi from the path, and Kun had certainly spent long years in confinement not to seize any chance that came along.
"I disagree with Lady Isard's opinion," Mara said, a flash of irritation in her gaze directed at Isard. How interesting. "Palpatine turned fully trained Jedi to his side."
"The mere fact of becoming a Jedi does not guarantee immunity from falling to the Dark Side," Mace Windu supported. "There are... far too many examples to argue against that judgment. Even the best of the Jedi are susceptible to the Dark Side, and the transition from Padawan to Knight is not a panacea."
I suppressed a smile.
I recalled the moment from Episode VI where Luke Skywalker declares to Palpatine that he won't fall for his tricks and won't turn to the Dark Side of the Force because he has become a Jedi.
And even as proof of his faith, he tosses his lightsaber aside, as if to say, look how steadfast I am in my beliefs.
Revan and Malak would surely be wiping away tears of tenderness at that moment, muttering that they never knew you could refuse to fall to the Dark Side like that.
And Jerec would have seen the light from those words.
Windu is right — there are countless examples of even trained Jedi falling to the Dark Side, seduced by the Sith.
"Jedi-ism" is not a cure-all.
Only the Force-sensitive's own inner convictions matter.
Skywalker believed in his convictions, and so he was firm.
Anakin Skywalker did what he did because he was an overgrown but vulnerable young man, plagued by the fear of losing his loved ones.
Jerec was driven by his own ambition and a desire to gain power over the Valley of the Jedi.
Kyp Durron believed the Jedi were holding back his power and wanted to destroy the Empire for what it did to his family and brother.
Except his brother has been found, rescued from Carida, and now serves the Dominion, and the kid can contact him any second he wants without any problems.
Ahsoka Tano gained knowledge of the Dark Side from Darth Vectivus, and I doubt she needs more.
Ventress isn't after power — she wants more battles and enemy kills, not with weapons of mass destruction like blowing up stars, but in a duel on the battlefield.
Mara Jade... She wouldn't mind getting revenge on Palpatine, but she's not charging ahead, understanding that the strategy I've chosen will inevitably lead to a sad end for the wrinkled psychopath.
Windu... What does he need?
He doesn't fall into the Darkness — he uses it as a weapon. He is as solid as a rock in his perception of the world and his place in it.
And so on and so forth...
It seems the operation was doomed to fail.
Because I sent beings here whose faith is strong, whose convictions are unshakeable, and...
It turns out they don't want power at any cost.
Looks like I miscalculated.
Kun isn't strong enough to enslave just anyone.
He got rid of Skywalker first and foremost because he wasn't a fully-fledged Jedi and couldn't resist him, but Kun feared his potential in the Force.
And so he took him out of the "game" first, then went after the students.
It looks like I have a problem.
Who can I use as "bait"?
Darth Maul?
His desire to kill Palpatine is great, but would he betray me to become stronger?
Considering he's a half-man... er... half-Zabrak, wouldn't Kun consider his potential too small?
Possibly.
The question is, what do I do with Maul, the best lightsaber fighter I have, if he genuinely wants to become Kun's apprentice and becomes a threat?
Yes, the available forces could stop him, but we'd certainly take losses.
And the strike force created to eliminate Palpatine would be broken up again.
And the latest news indicates that Palpatine definitely won't delay his appearance any longer.
Sedriss's betrayal won't do him any good.
Obscuro? Hmm, not an option.
He's clearly indicating he's satisfied with what he has and what he's getting.
Jaden Korr? Unlikely. Having trained under Windu, he'd sooner charge at Kun with a lightsaber than agree to lure him out.
Fodeum Sabre De'Luz?
Before, I would have said yes, why not?
But now, after he's caused a massacre in Karthakk...
I'm afraid it would be the same situation as with Maul.
Except he would be twice as strong as the Zabrak.
That leaves... Gantoris?
Or should I drag someone else here?
Hutt, this Force and its idiotic laws are so complicated!
"I propose we strike," Snow Queen suddenly said. "At the very heart."
"Go on," I asked.
"Since he won't come out on his own, I suggest we provoke him," Isard said. "And it won't be a Force-sensitive doing it. If Kun gets the upper hand over him, there will be far fewer problems. But the 'victim' must arouse a certain interest in him with their capabilities and prospects."
"Interesting," I said, thinking it over. "There must be something on the moon that he values, and destroying it would surely make him show himself."
"Yes, such objects exist," Snow Queen placed her personal datapad on the tabletop. "Sith are narcissistic creatures. The destruction of, say, a statue of Kun would definitely not please him."
Something clicked in my memory.
I think Corran Horn did something similar.
"...I'll plant detonators, and he'll try to attack me," Snow Queen continued. "I fit his criteria on all counts. The others will attack him at that moment."
"I doubt it will work, but why not?" Ventress shrugged.
"But I'm going," Mara cut in. "He'll only fall for a Force-sensitive. I'll play on my hatred for Palpatine."
"No," Isard cut her off. "And you know why."
Hmm, it seems a very interesting explanation is brewing.
"But you're butting in!" Mara growled.
"I am a less valuable resource."
"This isn't about resources!"
"It's exactly about them."
"No."
"Yes."
"Will you tell them, or should I?"
"This gets more and more interesting," Ahsoka Tano looked at me with curiosity. "Ten credits on Mara. Just kidding..."
"Stand down," I ordered, not letting this farce escalate. "I ask everyone to leave. Isard and Mara, stay and explain yourselves."
Hmm... Why did the Togruta give me such a sympathetic look as she left?
And Ventress, too.
What's happening?
Did I mess up the Marg Sab somewhere?
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