Lying in the hospital bed, Solo's mind raced, repeatedly replaying his battle with Ventress.
"You fool," he berated himself inwardly, "why did you provoke that madwoman? Were you testing your limits, or was it just blind arrogance?"
During the fight, he had to suppress his anger and fear with all his might. He knew that if the Dark Side consumed him, the consequences would be catastrophic.
Fortunately, he had survived. If he had truly died in London, everything would have been lost.
He instinctively raised his left arm, but the sensation—or rather, the lack of it—made him uneasy. His fingers were slightly curled, and he could feel that his meridians had been repaired. The arm was now flexible and mobile, but completely devoid of sensation.
When his hand touched the bedsheets, he could perceive the "contact," but felt none of the fabric's texture or warmth. This hollow sensation sent a shiver down his spine.
Even within the Force, his left arm's "presence" had grown faint, as if separated by a thin veil. The seamless unity he once felt was gone.
"At least it's still functional," Solo chuckled wryly.
Barriss had explained that this loss of sensation was a normal consequence of meridian repair. It would gradually recover through subsequent training and "Force Perception Calibration," though there were no better solutions currently available.
To assist his left arm and protect his recently repaired meridians, Plo Koon, noticing the armor Solo was wearing, had specially prepared a Mandalorian Strength Gauntlet for him.
This gauntlet, made from lightweight alloy and equipped with a miniature force field generator, not only enhanced his left arm's grip but also absorbed shock during combat, preventing secondary damage to his meridians.
Solo tried on the gauntlet, adjusted the fit, and immediately felt a significant increase in strength in his left arm, which brought him a slight sense of relief.
Two days of post-operative Bacta treatment had healed his burns and puncture wounds. After another ten days in the hospital, Ahsoka visited daily like a whirlwind, either sharing amusing stories from the ship or pestering him to teach her new lightsaber techniques.
"Young people have it so good," Solo mused, gazing at the ceiling, his heart full of mixed emotions.
When boredom struck, he asked Ahsoka to bring over her data pad so they could review the recent situation.
Opening the Holonet, the first headline stunned him:
A video of his duel with Ventress had somehow been leaked online, and its views had already surpassed a billion.
In the comments section, some hailed him as a "Jedi Hero," while others criticized his "too aggressive combat style, unbecoming of a traditional Jedi." Even the Jedi Temple got involved...
What gave him the biggest headache was Master Windu's half-hour speech on "The Responsibilities of a Jedi Guardian," in which he vehemently denounced the Separatists' "unscrupulous attacks."
"Thank goodness I'm not on Coruscant," Solo muttered. "Otherwise, I'd be drowning in the Council's spittle."
He quickly shut down the Holonet and turned to review the war reports from Headquarters.
Obi-Wan and Anakin had successfully destroyed the Dark Reaper on Tala, with Windu, Luminara, and Plo Koon also participating in the battle.
But the cost of victory had been catastrophic: four Hailfire-class attack ships destroyed, over 40,000 Clone Troopers killed, and nearly all ground equipment lost.
"They call this a 'great victory'?" Solo rolled his eyes, long accustomed to the Republic's propaganda.
He knew the Confederacy would soon attack Kamino, the birthplace of the Clone Army, now guarded by Master Shaak Ti.
That battle was destined to be a bloodbath, but even if he issued a warning, no one would believe a "reckless Jedi."
"Let's just take care of ourselves first," Solo sighed, logging into the Galactic Bank through his data pad and opening a verified account.
He knew he couldn't hide from the Intelligence Department. Rather than trying to conceal his activities, he decided to act openly.
After slipping out of the hospital on the pretext of a walk, he went to the *Star Falcon* to withdraw 500,000 credits. He left 35,000 as a reserve fund for the ship and deposited the rest in the bank.
Next, he registered a shell company called "Rona & Kopita" online, spending 5,000 credits on the process.
With the company as a front, he began browsing interstellar trade websites. Eventually, he purchased four *Gozanti-class* light cruisers from a second-hand dealer, complete with four *GD16-type* robot pilots.
"Choosing *Gozanti*s was definitely the right call," Solo nodded in satisfaction, reviewing the ship's specifications on his data pad.
These 45-meter-long vessels were originally designed as armed transports capable of fending off pirates, but they had ultimately evolved into "miniature frigates."
Equipped with eight laser cannons, two quad-laser turrets, and two proton torpedo launchers with eight torpedoes in reserve, the *Gozanti*s outperformed their *Consular-class* counterparts in every aspect except speed.
The only drawback was that, to obtain sales approval, the manufacturer had restricted the engine power. The maximum speed within the atmosphere was limited to 400 kilometers per hour, and the hyperspace drive was only a third-tier model, with a backup twelfth-tier drive. However, it was reliable and had significant potential for modification.
Solo remembered that the Future Empire would later retrofit these vessels into patrol boats, landing craft, and even makeshift carriers.
The four cruisers cost him 260,000 credits, and each robot pilot cost an additional 15,000 credits, bringing the total to 300,000 credits.
He planned to equip the cruisers with B-1 battle droids, which would extend their operational range from one month to six months.
After placing the order, he issued networked commands to the robot pilots, directing them to fly the cruisers to Donovia first, with instructions to redeploy as needed. This, he believed, was the safest way to provide support.
As expected, two hours after the purchase, representatives from the Intelligence Department approached him.
A young Security Lieutenant politely inquired, "Sir, may I ask the purpose of your purchase of four military vessels?"
"A secret mission of the Jedi Order. The details are confidential," Solo replied, adopting the solemn demeanor of a Jedi.
The Lieutenant immediately stopped pressing for details and even offered to help expedite the necessary travel permits to avoid future complications.
"The Jedi identity still carries weight!" Solo thought to himself.
A few hours later, Solo's data feed confirmed the clearance. Now, the four cruisers could traverse half the galaxy without any obstacles.
On the evening of the tenth day, Solo assured Barriss that he would "adhere to the Rehabilitation Regulations and not leave Headquarters without authorization." He also requested a datacrystal containing information on Force healing techniques before hastily being discharged from the hospital.
After briefly appearing at Headquarters and exchanging a few words with a Staff Officer, he immediately rushed to the spaceport.
"General!"
Captain Ragnos and the crew of the *Star Falcon* were thrilled to see Solo board. Their eyes, filled with admiration, couldn't help but linger on his left arm, where the metallic gleam of the Mandalorian Strength Gauntlet was strikingly prominent.
"Prepare for departure and return to Donovia!"
After issuing the order, Solo retreated to his cabin. He still needed to properly dispose of the armor wreckage and prepare for the upcoming mission.
Soon, the *Star Falcon* fired its engines, slowly ascended, and headed toward Donovia.
***
Meanwhile, Asajj Ventress piloted her private starship to a secret hideout, landing in a state of disarray.
She had just finished treating her wounds when she saw the holographic projections of the duel on the Holonet. Now, half the galaxy was mocking her for being unable to defeat a single Jedi.
Rage consumed her. She slammed her fist into the holographic projector on the table, her mind consumed by one thought: "Solo Victor, I will kill you!"
She recalled how she had severely injured the Jedi's left arm during her escape. His bloodstained armor had clattered to the ground, and the Jedi had taken one of her lightsabers. As she left, she had taken the bloodstained arm armor of the Jedi.
As a Witch of Dathomir, she was an expert in the Blood Tracking Technique. With a biological sample from her target, she could track them across galaxies.
This was her usual method for hunting prey.
After extracting Solo's biological sample from the armor, she lit a fire and tossed the armor into the flames.
Watching the metal armor burn in the fire, she imagined Solo being burned alive, a cruel smile curling her lips.
"Solo Victor, next time we meet, I'll burn your entire body to ashes."
Having finished everything, Ventress finally piloted her ship to Count Dooku's secret base.
She knew the price of failure would be severe, but she had no other choice.
In the dimly lit hall, Count Dooku stood with his back to the entrance, gazing down at the lava plain through a massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Ventress entered the hall and knelt on one knee behind Dooku, her voice trembling slightly. "Master."
"I'm deeply disappointed in you, Apprentice," Dooku said, his voice cold and devoid of warmth.
"Master, I..." Ventress began to explain, but Dooku cut her off.
"I don't accept excuses." Dooku turned around, a fierce glint in his eyes. "For your failure, you will be punished."
As he spoke, a bolt of blue Force lightning shot from his hand and struck Ventress.
She collapsed to the ground instantly, her body convulsing violently as her clothes burned and smoke rose from her scorched flesh. Racked by agonizing pain, her screams echoed through the entire hall.
As Ventress's screams gradually subsided, Dooku finally withdrew his Force lightning.
Ventress lay prostrate on the ground, gasping for breath, her body covered in burns.
"This is your lesson," Dooku said, his voice as cold as ever. "Now, I'll give you a chance to atone for your failures... a new mission. Whether you can continue serving me depends entirely on your performance this time."
"Yes... Master," Ventress replied, struggling to push herself up. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but her eyes burned with renewed ferocity. "I will not fail again!"
"Go!"
"Yes, Master!"
After accepting her mission, Ventress silently vowed to herself, her nails digging deep into her palms.
"Solo Victor... I will kill you."
Count Dooku of Serenno slowly rose to his feet as the holographic projector in his study dimmed.
He had just concluded a lengthy conversation with Darth Sidious, discussing everything from the overall direction of the war to the intricate details of each critical battle—all woven into the Sith's grand scheme.
Sidious's schemes remained meticulous, yet "trivial accidents" continued to disrupt Dooku's vision of a perfect "new order."
Most of these accidents originated from the stubborn Jedi, but their defiance would not save them. The Sith would annihilate the Jedi, and a new order would be established across the galaxy.
"The Senate fools will eventually pay for their shortsightedness," Dooku muttered, his fingertip tracing the holographic star map on the table.
The marker for Kamino twinkled with a faint blue light. This was the birthplace of the Clone Army, an "indispensable element" in Sidious's plan.
The Separatist leaders had long advocated attacking Kamino to cut off the Republic's clone supply lines, but Dooku had always suppressed their impulses, citing "the time was not right."
Now that Sidious had finally given the go-ahead, he issued a seemingly contradictory command: "Let the attack fail, but prolong the war."
Dooku immediately understood. Sidious needed this "failed attack" to consolidate Palpatine's power in the Senate while sowing discord among the Separatists.
His thoughts drifted back to years ago, when he was still a Jedi Master and Sifo-Dyas his most trusted friend and student.
Sifo-Dyas had foreseen a cataclysmic upheaval in the galaxy and confided his concerns to Dooku. Under the guise of Darth Tyranus, Dooku "generously" offered his assistance.
Sifo-Dyas believed he was ordering an army for the Republic, unaware that this was the very beginning of the Sith's plan.
Through intermediaries, Dooku had meticulously overseen the cloning process on Kamino from start to finish.
The first-generation Clone Troopers had already proven their efficiency on the battlefield. The second generation was at a critical stage of military training, with some units scheduled to enter combat within six months. The embryos for the third generation had also been created.
"These are the cornerstones of the Future Empire. Only I am worthy to protect them," Dooku thought, his eyes flashing with fanaticism.
According to the plan, he needed to leak the attack plan on Kamino to the Jedi Council through Quinlan Vos.
The Jedi would undoubtedly defend Kamino with all their might, fully aware that the planet's fate hung in the balance of the Republic's survival.
Dooku had no doubt the Jedi could defend Kamino. What truly concerned him was the power struggle brewing within the Separatist movement.
The leader of this attack, Passele Argonaut, had been appointed as the head of the Corporate Alliance. This ambitious Kuwarlan had long coveted supreme command of the Separatists, even secretly building alliances to undermine Dooku's authority.
What surprised Dooku most was that Argonaut had hired Meraji, a Mon Calamari commander recently recruited by the Confederacy, renowned for his tactical brilliance.
"Good," Dooku thought with a cold smile. "Let Argonaut taste defeat. Then he'll understand who the true leader of the Separatists is."
Beyond the Kamino operation, another vexing issue occupied Dooku's thoughts: selecting a commander for the robot armies. Sevrance Tann, his once-promising successor, had been slain by a Jedi seeking revenge for his apprentice. Asajj Ventress, whom he had high hopes for, had botched her mission. Now, only two candidates remained: Durge and Grievous.
Durge's hatred for the Mandalorians had long since devolved into madness, his mind consumed by the obsession of "eliminating all Fett clones." He was utterly unfit to command.
Meanwhile, Grievous—the half-mechanical, half-biological monstrosity—harbored a bone-deep loathing for the Jedi, coupled with absolute loyalty to Dooku.
"There's no one more suitable," Dooku decided. It was time to let Grievous truly cut loose.
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