"Sinister place," Oli said with a shudder. "All these corridors, machines... Master, are you sure we're going the right way?"
"Doubting my strength, young Padawan?" I smirked. Meeting the girl's gaze, which flickered with a shadow of concern, I tried to support her by sending an encouraging pulse through the Force. Though... I could have used some support myself. I was holding on by a thread.
The moment we stepped into the depths of the complex, the malady I thought I had under control returned. It was as if the meditation and temporary clarity of mind meant nothing. The same throbbing in my temples, the dizziness, the blurred vision. For now, it was merely an inconvenience. But the deeper we descended, the worse I felt.
I had no intention of showing it, but from the glances Kira cast at me as she walked alongside, I realized the Hand had already guessed. And, like a good girl, she was keeping it a secret. My clever girl.
It was fortunate that as soon as I realized what was happening, I managed to close myself off in the Force from Oli. Even if she was a persistent little gadfly, there was no need to burden her with this as well. As long as I had the ability to control myself, I would hold on. It couldn't all end like this.
"Creepy place," the apprentice repeated. "My blood runs cold from the feeling of the Dark Side. It's like staring into the Abyss..."
In this, she was more right than ever. It wasn't just the aura of the Dark Side. There was a literal chill—goosebumps covered my entire body. The temperature seemed to have dropped by ten degrees. Every now and then, my breath misted in the air. In moments like these, you start to wonder why using the Dark Side makes you feel heat rather than the opposite.
"This complex was erected by the Rakata," said Kira, walking to the Padawan's right. The three of us were in the second line. In the first—about a hundred meters ahead of us—moved the Esh-kha scouts. Behind us were Blood Claw and a pair of Twi'leks. And at a respectful distance, covering the rear, was another squad of Esh-kha. The locals, armed with some kind of ancient shooting-sticks, were openly terrified—I could feel it in the Force. Claw said they had never approached the complex since they freed their entire population from stasis. It was simply too terrifying here. I confess, even my blood ran cold at the mere sight of the ancient bas-reliefs decorating the corridor walls. They depicted the Rakata gloriously exterminating the Esh-kha. There were also numerous texts in an unfamiliar language—likely belonging to the natives of Lehon.
"And who are they?" Oli asked.
"An ancient race that nearly conquered the galaxy tens of thousands of years ago," I explained, suppressing another bout of dizziness.
Why not enlighten the girl while we moved toward the goal? It would also occupy my mind with something other than thoughts of how miserable I felt.
"They originated on the planet Lehon, after which, like a plague, they seized every world they could reach. They had a natural affinity for the Dark Side of the Force, making them ruthless warriors and blatant slavers. They searched the galaxy for Force-sensitive worlds, then invaded them, crushing any resistance and capturing Force-sensitives."
"What for?"
"To use them in their machinery," Kira took up the story, seeing me wince from another surge of pain. "The Rakata knew how to plug Force-sensitives into their machines, turning them into powerful energy sources. It was their invasion of Tython in search of new Force-sensitives that caused the Je'daii, after defeating the Rakata, to split into followers of Light and Dark."
"And what happened to them?" Oli asked with clear interest.
"They finally annoyed the galaxy to death with their behavior, and their race was struck by a plague," I explained the final period of the Infinite Empire's dominance in simple terms. "They degenerated, losing their connection to the Force. Since most of their technology was Force-based, they had to retreat to their home world, destroying all possible artifacts behind them that might have allowed their formerly enslaved races to settle scores. In the end, after several millennia of floundering, the Rakata finally went extinct."
"But their legacy remained, didn't it?" the girl asked thoughtfully.
"You're quite the Padawan Obvious," I chuckled. "But you're absolutely right. The New Forge, which builds the fleet for the Empire and provides our troops with munitions and weapons, is one of their greatest achievements. As is this complex..."
"But what is this for?"
"To hold them here," Kira pointed unceremoniously behind her back, jabbing a finger toward Blood Claw.
"Hmm," the Padawan nodded in agreement after measuring the chieftain with an appraising look. "That makes sense. They even look creepy..."
"Blood Claw is pleased by the compliment," the Esh-kha leader bared his teeth, making the girl physically recoil in disgust. Well, of course. An Esh-kha is ugly enough on his own, but when he smiles...
Tuning into my own sensations, I felt the energy of the Dark Side literally overflowing this place. I had felt something similar in orbit of Dromund Kaas, but significantly weaker. Here... it was like stepping into a fountain of Darkness.
What awaited at the end of this journey, though... if only I knew in advance.
In moments like these, one could regret never having bothered to play through the Sith Inquisitor storyline in that well-known game. But... no time for sorrowful memories of the past. I just needed to survive in reality.
The headaches intensified with every level we descended underground. It was as if my own Force power was resonating with the Darkness emanating from the heart of the complex. Which was quite strange. Regardless, it didn't matter. The main thing was to fix everything.
"Scouts are at the objective," Blood Claw grunted, pointing his hand toward the Esh-kha vanguard, who had frozen before a massive rectangular entrance to yet another hall. From it, there wafted not just the Dark Side, but something sepulchral...
"Master..." Oli instinctively grabbed my elbow. Kira, watching this, merely smirked.
"Steady," a wave of pain hit me, nearly buckling my knees. It didn't escape Carsen that I stumbled. The girl silently moved closer, letting me lean on her. "It will all be over soon..."
"We stay here," Claw warned. I only nodded silently—what use would they be?
Leaning on Kira and Oli, who hugged me from the other side, I walked inside slowly, like an ancient old man. Both Twi'leks accompanied our invalid team, keeping a close watch on the surroundings.
Literally every step was harder than climbing a mountain. The headache, dulled by the Voss meditation, now intensified as if trying to burst through my skull. The Force, which had been a lightly storming ocean until now, turned into the proverbial rogue wave, washing away my last remnants of self-control. It seemed I had answered Atroxa's call in vain...
The heart of the complex was a giant room, filled with massive mechanisms that radiated deep antiquity at a single glance. Numerous technical devices rimmed a small rectangular platform, in the center of which sat an archaic holoterminal, and behind it...
"What is that?" Oli whispered. "It looks like a torture chamber."
We didn't have time to answer her. With a fountain of sparks, the machines surrounding us came to life. The hum of mechanisms filled the space. Simultaneously, a massive durasteel bulkhead dropped behind our backs, cutting off the Esh-kha squads.
"A trap," one of the Twi'leks exhaled.
"I don't think so," Kira countered. "Look!"
The terminal we had noticed glowed, projecting an image of a bipedal...
"Rakata," I wheezed, grimacing from another surge of pain.
What was going on?! Valkorion promised I still had time. Or was this complex affecting me this way? I felt so miserable...
"Ah, children," the hologram greeted us in a slightly accented Basic, smiling charmingly. "I am glad you have returned."
"What?" Oli was taken aback. "What children? Who returned?"
The girl, about to ask more questions, ran into Kira's cold gaze, which clearly promised trouble if she didn't shut up. Oli reflected for a second, then looked away with feigned indifference.
"I see you have problems," the hologram said in a caring tone, using that same solicitous female voice. "What has happened?"
"The Force... is tearing me apart," I explained, wincing at the stinging sensations in my body. "I need... help."
"I see traces of cellular changes made by me very long ago," the hologram said. Along with its words, I felt a gentle warmth fill my body. "Many foreign genes, grafted through selection. A heterogeneous mass. An inconsistent genetic sequence. Who disfigured you so, child?"
A note of compassion appeared in the hologram's voice. It was as if the machine actually cared what had happened to me. Oh, these strange ancient computers.
"Yeah... there's this one bastard," the wave of the Force surging within me was so strong that it tore me from the girls' embrace. Falling to my knees, I barely managed to throw my hands out in front of me to save my face from meeting the floor plating.
Both Twi'leks, the Hand, and the apprentice rushed to me, lifting me from the floor so that my face looked toward our virtual interlocutor.
"Not good," the hologram frowned. "Now I see. A failed experiment, inconsistency of genetic sequences. Too much Force to keep the construct within normal limits. Multiple damages. Very poor assembly."
"Can he be helped?" Oli asked impatiently. "He's dying!"
It was sweet that the apprentice cared about me. We hadn't spent that much time together, yet she was now ready to fight for me.
"My children must not die because of others' mistakes," the machine remarked, making several passes with its hands. Simultaneously, new sounds from activated mechanisms reached my ears. "He must enter the chamber," the hologram's spectral hand pointed to the massive structure behind it. "I will fix everything."
Caring hands grabbed me, dragging me forward like a sack of potatoes. My consciousness was clouding, my vision blurring again. The symptoms of my own demise had finally gained the upper hand. The sensations were very similar to what I had felt during the battle with Bulk, only a hundred times stronger.
It was so painful that there was no possibility to speak or move. It seemed my nervous system had been pushed to the brink and had now revolted, refusing to work.
The girls shoved me into a massive chamber with a single exit. In fact, I fell in there like a bag of manure. Unable to even move, losing consciousness from the pain, I lay on the icy floor, thanking providence that my body was so exhausted and my senses had suffered so much that they no longer reacted to the pain that had become the background of my entire organism. Only a tiny patch—the half of my face lying on the floor—provided some variety to what was happening, offering a searing coolness.
Above my head, barely penetrating my rapidly fading consciousness, an ear-splitting crackle sounded, reminding me that my hearing was still with me, despite everything. For some reason.
And then, it felt as if I was torn to pieces.
***
Rachi ran across the roof, crouching to avoid a stray shot. The entire structure of the five-story building looked fragile and threatened to collapse at any moment. That was precisely why, in fact, the droids had retreated from this block—even if the rank-and-file soldiers were fundamentally stupid, their commander didn't lack wit or a desire to preserve his rapidly dwindling forces.
Cunning bastard.
The Twi'lek caught herself thinking that the war was clearly not benefiting her delicate soul. Actually, the army was no finishing school for noble ladies. Even from the eternally polite clones, one could hear strong language in a combat situation. True, upon seeing a General nearby, they would embarrassedly apologize. Though, once heard, the profanity couldn't exactly be erased from memory, could it?
General...
For the first time, she felt this title on her own skin. Even during that unfortunate scouting raid, the combat operation had seemed like something... detached. Now she had plunged into the everyday life of war, and not just headfirst.
The Jedi felt that the war... was not leaving her unmarked. Even back there, in the Ruusan system, deaths echoed in the Force, hitting her like rain on a roof. And now, on a planet where hundreds of sentients could die in a single second...
Hutt!
The girl got distracted by her thoughts and nearly slipped off the roof when her boot soles skidded on the permacrete.
However, she quickly regained her composure, pushing off the treacherous surface and reinforcing her jump with the Force.
Landing on the adjacent building, she accelerated to her limit and, in an instant, cut down a small squad of droids that happened to be nearby. A lookout, apparently. How fortunate that none of them realized what was happening. It would have been a disgrace if she had revealed herself just one step away from her mission objective.
The battle for the capital had been raging for several days without a second's pause. Clones from Aayla's 327th Star Corps were bogged down on the approach to the city limits—the rustbuckets had dug in so deep that they couldn't be dislodged without catastrophic losses.
The 204th Legion was moving toward them, acting like a steamroller, sweeping away any enemy in its path. It seemed they were unstoppable. And yet, the enemy had succeeded. After two clone units—"Dougan's Fist" and the 212th—joined together to form a single front, Senior Clone Commander Nyx, leading the legion, had very delicately asked "certain Generals" not to get underfoot, ordering the battered remnants of the corps to the rear for rest and security duty.
The soldiers of the 212th Attack Battalion, acting under her command by the decision of Grand Moff Dougan, though unhappy with the decision, did not dare to dispute it. Especially after General Secura had effectively handed over command of the combined clone group to him, with the exception of her own corps. And now, united, the clones were methodically advancing, seeking to drive the droids out of the residential blocks they occupied. After the first series of successful battles, they had to retreat and dig in themselves. Because the enemy, without much ceremony, was already openly using the captured residents of the capital as human shields. Specifically, to protect their artillery, which gave the clones not a minute of peace, continuously turning the buildings occupied by Republic troops into ruins. And the clones had to retreat from their established positions so as not to be left in the open after another building was reduced to rubble.
This couldn't go on for long.
The enemy's operations had to be decisively ended. They had to be deprived of command by killing whoever was directing the CIS army. It didn't matter if it was an organic or a tactical droid. By getting rid of him, the Jedi could throw the Separatist chain of command into chaos. And droids that don't know whose orders to follow are no longer a combat-effective force.
Soon everything would change. After the enemy eliminated two scouting groups from the 212th sent to the rear, Rachi simply couldn't take it anymore, deciding to carry out this sabotage herself. Fortunately, history showed that a swift Jedi attack was, for the most part, a successful raid that guaranteed victory over the enemy. Nine times out of ten.
Lodbrok, the scout group commander she had met during that practically suicidal mission on Ruusan, despite everything, declared he would go with her. "You need cover, General. Don't argue. Me and my boys are the best in the corps. Refuse, and you won't go anywhere at all."
She had to agree—the clones from his squad were extremely determined. And now they moved behind and at some distance from her, ready to come to her aid if necessary. They were to reach the target via parallel routes, after which they only had to strike with combined forces. A smaller group has a better chance of success precisely because of its mobility. But she had no intention of explaining this to Nyx—he was extremely prejudiced against all Jedi, except perhaps his own, who for some reason was in no hurry to join the battle. And the "Defend" order, with which this clone had effectively bound his soldiers, also openly displeased her.
Stopping at the edge of the last building in a dilapidated district, the Twi'lek hid in the shadow of a low technical room. She needed to assess the situation.
Aha. There was that round building with the dome, around which OOM-series droids—Separatist equivalents of junior commanders—were scurrying. Obviously, it was they who, despite looking like B-1s, were responsible for repelling Republic soldier attacks.
The communication channels were jammed with interference, so she set her comlink to automatic mode, preparing the device to transmit a pre-recorded message continuously. Perhaps the device would still be able to break through the jamming, and the clones would know she had completed her part of the mission. Sinilian was the only one who knew the plan in full and was to execute the second phase. The strike had to be immediate after this to take advantage of the command confusion among the droids. Such luck might not strike again.
She realized how ridiculous it was—going on such an important mission alone, without stable communication with her soldiers. Eh, and Sinilian and Lodbrok had insisted she take a flare launcher. A backup method of communication. Which she had considered redundant.
Who could have known that here, in enemy territory, all transmissions would be jammed?!
She should have listened to the advice of more experienced soldiers. But Jedi pride had prevented her from playing it safe. The result—the entire point of the mission could go down the Nexu's throat.
Unless, along with the enemy commander, she also destroyed the enemy's communication center. That was where the equipment for suppressing Republic frequencies should be located.
A crimson light flashed from the right. Sitra dodged a blaster bolt fired at her by a BX-series droid with great difficulty. Commandos, who had become a headache for everyone from clones to Jedi, thanks to their cunning and guile. Realizing her stealth was hopelessly compromised, the girl activated her own blade, rapidly closing with the enemy.
Deflecting a couple more shots, she ducked, avoiding an unexpected lunge with a vibroblade that the droid nearly used to skewer her stomach. The girl twisted, blocking a second lunge, then moved sideways, simultaneously slicing off the enemy's upper torso and throwing the remains aside with the Force.
What a failure! How could she have missed him and messed up so badly?
Almost immediately, things got "hot" on the roof. Dozens of battle droids began emerging from a technical hatch. They were B-1s, of course, but there were many of them. Too many for her to handle.
The Twi'lek, crouching, accelerated habitually, deflecting shots into the nearest droid. He had decided to shoot at her legs, but over time Rachi had already learned to neutralize the enemy's "initiative" by deflecting the shots. Her signature Niman, in which she was an unsurpassed master—as noted by many fencing instructors, except, naturally, the Troll, who was impossible to please—was increasingly discrediting itself in this war. The "Diplomat's Style" wasn't particularly suited for fighting multiple opponents or deflecting blaster fire. Although, at the same time, she had heard that Master Dougan, who also adhered to this style, had managed to dispatch several of Dooku's Dark Acolytes. Perhaps Niman was underestimated?
A blaster bolt scorched her thigh. With a cry, the girl stumbled, failing to slice another droid. The ruthless enemy machines closed in, ready to finish her at any moment...
And at that same moment, most of them collapsed, hit by dozens of blue blaster bolts. Taking advantage of the respite, the girl immediately rolled aside, avoiding being pierced by dozens of crimson shots.
"Get out, we'll cover you, General!" Lodbrok's shout reached her. The scout, along with a half-dozen clones hovering in the air on jump packs, showered the droids with blaster carbine fire, covering her retreat.
The girl, looking around, concluded that her sortie had failed. Droids were arriving—not just on this roof, but on the neighboring buildings. It felt bitter to think that such an opportunity had been missed. It seemed the enemy commander was smarter than she thought. He had played it safe, creating the appearance of moving his front line closer to the headquarters.
One of the droids managed to hit a clone. The man, dropping his weapon, landed poorly on the roof. The distinct crunch of a broken leg reached the girl's ears. Well, of course—falling from a height of a good ten meters.
Two commando droids prepared to open fire on her, but Rachi, returning their lethal shots, had already reached the soldier. She grabbed him under the armpit with her left hand and, trying not to lean on her wounded leg, dragged him behind a vent housing, which almost immediately became a target for the enemy. The metal shuddered, taking the hits from the lead droids.
Seeing that the rescue operation was becoming prolonged, the remaining clones descended, hiding behind improvised cover. Thermal detonators came into play, and the night silence was broken by muffled explosions.
As soon as the immediate danger passed, she reached into one of the pockets of her thigh suit where a medical kit was located.
"Get out, ma'am," the clone placed a hand on the medpac, as if hinting he wasn't worth the effort. "Both legs are broken, I'll only slow you down."
His voice was audible through the armor. As were the light wheezes. It seemed the landing hadn't been without other injuries. The Twi'lek was momentarily stunned—despite her lack of experience in command, she hadn't even considered deliberately leaving someone to be torn apart by the enemy. Especially...
Pulling the helmet off the clone, she looked into Lodbrok's eyes, already knowing who was before her.
"You're the last person I expected to see."
"I'm only doing my duty, General," blood was visible on his lips. Dipping into the Force, the Twi'lek realized the clone had multiple internal injuries and bleeding. The chances of saving him were fading before her eyes. Bacta sprays and patches wouldn't help here.
"I can't not help you."
"Very grateful to you for that, General," the clone coughed, spitting blood. "But the longer we delay, the... cough-cough... the less chance of getting out of here."
"It should have worked!" she said with a hint of panic.
"No, ma'am," the clone shook his head. "The idea was idiotic from the start. Forgive us for not being able to talk you out of it..."
Watching the scout group commander's eyes roll back, Rachi felt tears well up in her eyes. It wasn't that she had feelings for the clone—that was forbidden for a Jedi. But to lose a comrade with whom she had started her journey...
"General!" a clone appeared nearby. Rachi saw with surprise that his armor only vaguely resembled the standard snow-white elements used throughout the Grand Army. However, she had seen it more than once in the 204th Legion's camp. "We need to go! The rustbuckets are pressing!"
"We're almost surrounded, Corporal," the Twi'lek said, listening to the Force. "We'll die here. All of us."
"Forgive me for disagreeing, ma'am," the clone deftly removed the jump pack from the back of the silent commander, who had lost consciousness, and unequivocally shoved it into the girl's hands. "Dying is contraindicated today. Lodbrok's sacrifice is enough. The Commander ordered you brought back alive—so the Grand Moff can personally give you a thrashing for this. Hutt, move it!"
Rachi watched dumbfounded as the 204th Legion soldier gave her a light slap. This brought her back to reality. Seeing that her gaze was becoming coherent, the clone gave a satisfied grunt.
"Duck, purple," he advised. Then, contacting someone via comlink, he tore several grenades from his belt, tossing them toward the enemy. There was a deafening boom. Sitra heard shrapnel whistle around them.
"Clear, sir!" another clone in similar armor appeared nearby. Still without ceremony, he slung the bewildered Jedi over his shoulder and, with one strong jump, landed on the ramp of a ship hovering near the roof of the building. Rachi thought detachedly that she had never seen such squat transports, but she wasn't given time for long reflection.
The clone practically threw her into the ship's foyer, ignoring the fact that she hit the bulkhead. However, this brought her to her senses. The girl, glancing at what was happening, saw the other clones from Lodbrok's group boarding the ship. And Lodbrok himself was being carried onto the ship by other soldiers in black-and-silver armor, while their comrades fired back at the enemy with carbines. The clones from her squad, without crowding, immediately dispersed through the ship's corridors, though they were no less surprised than she was—she felt it in the Force.
"All right, evacuation complete," one of these clones announced, raising the landing ramp. "Joker, get the ship out of here!"
"No, you can't!" the girl, feeling a surge of adrenaline, stood up and pushed her way to the soldier giving orders. "We need to destroy the enemy commander."
"Sit down, you fool!" the clone, removing his helmet, looked at her with an angry gaze. "We weren't picking flowers here!"
Rachi felt the machinery hum under her feet—the ship was in motion. They were jolted significantly—evidently, the enemy wasn't going to let them go so easily.
"Done," said another clone in the same strange armor. "The charge detonated, the CIS command link is destroyed."
"Good enough," grunted the clone with commander's markings on his armor. Turning toward Rachi, he shook his head. "Ma'am, that was the stupidest thing I've seen in my entire life."
"I wanted to do what was best," she tried to justify herself.
"Tell that to the Senior General," he didn't enter into the debate. "Hurricane Team has pulled a Jedi's ass out of a deep hole once again."
"These guys don't mince words," flashed through Rachi's mind.
"I am sure Master Dougan will understand the reason for my independent actions," she declared firmly.
"Sure, sure," the commando commander smirked. "What do you have to fear? You're a Twi'lek."
Sitra, feeling the mockery emanating from the clone, remained silent.
A too-transparent hint that Dougan had a soft spot for women of her species.
But how could that be? He was a Jedi.
"Nonsense," Sitra decided, putting Alpha-17's words out of her head.
***
Consciousness returned as a blinding white flash crossed my eyes.
Simultaneously, my memory helpfully reminded me that absolutely everything should hurt. But, strangely enough, I felt much better. It was as if I had never experienced problems with my mortal body being destroyed by the Force.
A quick reconnaissance showed that I had been thrown into some kind of snow-white haze. "And here is the Matrix," I thought with a grim premonition. I just had to wait for the owner of this whole circus to appear.
"I am glad you are better," a cheerful female voice sounded behind me. The one I had heard—recently. Turning around, I saw the tall figure of a Rakata behind me, which, naturally, hadn't been there five seconds ago.
"You've changed," I noted, pointing out that before me stood no longer a figure of blue light, but a semblance of a real living being. In familiar—real—shades.
"I decided we could communicate more comfortably this way," the Rakata shrugged. "I am Ashsha, the Mother Machine."
"Um... Rick Dougan, Immortal Emperor."
"Oh, there is no need to introduce yourself," the interlocutor laughed. "I have scanned your mind, so there is no need to bring me up to speed. I know EVERYTHING, Egor."
"I see," I said, feeling a slight irritation. "Actually, digging through someone else's thoughts is impolite."
"I had to help you," the Mother Machine spread her hands. "Your anamnesis was... very superficial to understand the full extent of the problem. But, if you wish, we can stop your reconstruction. Though, you will die..."
"Reconstruction?" a note of disbelief slipped into my voice. "What are you actually doing?"
"Changing you on a molecular level," Ashsha smiled. "Your teacher is a true sadist if he decided that using the genes of Lord Kallig, whom I improved over three thousand years ago, could become the basis for all the other interventions. By the way, a very curious concept—mixing the most outstanding qualities of several Force-sensitives in one body. I once engaged in something similar. But, unlike Vitiate—successfully."
"Yeah, that guy loves to experiment," I admitted gloomily.
"He is very cunning," Ashsha became serious. "This instability is a genetic limiter of your power. A guarantee that you will not become stronger."
"What a prick! He didn't even say anything!"
"Why would he?" the Rakata smiled. "He told you to consume one ghost. You did. Then, at his suggestion, you took another. Vitiate did not give you instructions to absorb the power of the Kaiburr crystal or Darth Marr. That was your decision, which led to the destabilization of the genetic structure."
"So, potentially I could have avoided this if I just hadn't rushed the consumption?"
"Of course. But analysis shows that under the previous settings, you could not have possessed the power of more than three ghosts. Your genetic code simply wasn't designed for it."
"He was making me stronger than most others, but weaker than himself," I voiced the idea that had already been in my head.
"Precisely," the Rakata assured me. "An ancient trick used by my kin as well. Amusing to see it hasn't aged even tens of thousands of years later."
"You're having a blast," I smiled crookedly. Then, realizing what she had said, I asked.
"So you're not a computer? Not an artificial intelligence?"
"I am Ashsha," the Rakata repeated. "The creator of the mechanism known as the Mother Machine. And its eternal prisoner. Its processor, operator, guardian."
"But who...?"
"My kin," she answered the unspoken question. "Long before the Rakata began to lose their connection to the Force, I experimented with creating species more Force-sensitive than Humans, Selkath, Wookiees, and many others we conquered. It is pleasing to know that my experiments bore fruit."
"Uh... what are you talking about?"
"Strange, I thought you would understand immediately," she said, puzzled. "Fine, I will give you a hint. Small, green, speaks funny, chews on his cane if he's very hungry."
"YODA?!"
"Oh, no need to shout like that," Ashsha winced. "He is but a descendant of those my people and I experimented upon. One of many, by the way. But only his race managed to become the most sensitive. They would have made wonderful energy sources... So obedient, stoic, gullible..."
"Brrr," a shiver ran through me. "I just imagined the Grand Master as fuel for the New Forge..."
"What is so wrong with that?" Ashsha wondered. "I have seen your memories. He is not your friend, not a relative, not a lover..."
"God forbid I ever screw something like that!"
"Indignation? Why? You don't recoil from our other fruits of labor."
"For heaven's sake! You created Twi'leks too?"
"Yes."
"Who else?"
"Many. The Esh-kha, for example."
"Wait-wait-wait! You were at war with them!"
"Correct," the Rakata nodded. "And we barely won. Which proves that as an invasion army, the Esh-kha were practically perfect. A pity their connection to the Force... is not the greatest."
"Is that why you're here?" I guessed. "Your mind was locked in the machine as punishment for the Esh-kha getting out of control?"
"I am glad you are intelligent after all," the Rakata smiled. "Yes, that is so. I was imprisoned in a mind trap, or rather, my consciousness was. A pity they destroyed the body. But that was a security measure—so no one could free me. There were no volunteers to give up their bodies for me. After all, I am the shame and disgrace of the Infinite Empire. The despised Ashsha."
"That was a long time ago," I reminded her. "But your resentment is still strong?"
"Unquestionably," I'm not particularly skilled in Rakata facial expressions (nor is most of the galaxy), but what was written on her face now... Rage, malice, anticipation? Oh-ho-ho, even Vitiate caused me less... fear. "That Sith, Lord Kallig, helped me by removing the restrictive blocks from this complex, and I subjected the entire building to my will, freeing my children, the Esh-kha, who were languishing here."
"That's noticeable."
"A pity there were so few Rakata guarding the Prison here," she lamented. "Not enough for me to quench my thirst for revenge for what the Elders did to me. To imprison my mind in a machine, to force me to fight the plague... and all while watching the suffering of my creations. Unbearable agony."
"Is that why you didn't help them?" another guess, nothing more. "After all, if you can create new species, strengthening their connection to the Force, then undoubtedly you could have cured your kin."
"I could have," the Rakata shrugged. "But I did not want to. They never realized that I control the mechanism, not it me. At first, they trusted me. And then they realized they would not find an ally in me. That was when all these guardian droids and limiters appeared—an attempt to force me to be obedient. Unsuccessful, I must say. And when the extinction became unstoppable, the Elders left a small group of scientists here, in the hope that the suffering of my race would make me change my mind."
"They didn't."
"As you can see. I am my own mistress."
"And yet, that doesn't explain why you helped me."
"I have not finished your reconstruction, child," Ashsha reminded me. "We are in a process that will take... some time. Enough for us to reach an agreement."
Oh, come on... How much longer? Altruism doesn't exist in this galaxy. Outside the Jedi Temple, naturally.
And I would have to negotiate after all. I remembered the episode from Revan's life when he was in a Rakata mind trap, one-on-one with a representative of that species. And if he had lost—a resident of the Infinite Empire would have settled in his body.
It seemed I was in the same situation. The Mother Machine wanted something from me. And she was making it clear that if I refused, I wouldn't leave here. Or I would—but not as me.
"What do you want?" I inquired.
"Revenge," just like that. Short and clear. And I have to figure out the rest, right? Whom to avenge, what... Good grief. You rummaged through my head. That means you know...
"Guessed?" she smiled.
"I think so," I said, chewing my lip.
"Clever child," Ashsha praised. "This alliance will be beneficial to us both."
"Honestly, I can't imagine how," I shook my head. "You'll just start a bloody massacre in the Rakata Archipelago as soon as you reach it."
"Who knows," the Mother Machine smiled. "I haven't told you the terms of our agreement yet."
The Rakata Archipelago... At the mere mention of that star cluster, my inner hoarder began to salivate.
Let me start from the beginning. As I had already told the apprentice, the Rakata had given the entire galaxy a sound thrashing. But as soon as things started looking grim—the loss of control over the Force—they tucked their tails, quickly covered their tracks, and returned home, where Revan visited them twenty-something thousand years later (twice), thoroughly mocking the survivors. And by a thousand years before today, the Rakata were considered extinct.
But those who claimed this didn't know two things.
First—on Tython, long forgotten by the entire galaxy, lived feral representatives of the Rakata—the Flesh Raiders, who under Ashara's careful hands were now working for the benefit of the Eternal Empire.
And the second was the most significant. Shortly before losing their connection to the Force, a large portion of the Rakata departed for a secret star cluster—a refuge of their civilization unknown even to most representatives of their race. Something like the Chiss Redoubt. A hidden habitat. As the history of the Star Wars universe goes, despite the fact that this group of Rakata managed to take with them all the cream of the Infinite Empire—all their knowledge, technology, and so on and so forth—they intellectually degenerated for unknown reasons. Therefore, they had to rebuild their entire science practically from scratch, studying the artifacts of their turbulent past.
Out of the entire mass of Rakata, only two tribes managed to rediscover hyperdrive technology. They even began to create something like Star Forges. But, as it turned out, resources in that cluster were very... scarce. To put it mildly. So a continuous war was waged there for them. "Rakata dying for metal," so to speak.
These worlds were located in the Unknown Regions. The approximate location of the archipelago was discovered by studying the remains of the Rakata civilization on Lehon. But that's hundreds of parsecs. So, I didn't have much hope of finding the archipelago and getting my greedy hands on artifacts not bolted to the ceiling by the ancient Rakata in the coming years. I had to make do with just the New Forge, which was already working at the limit of its capabilities.
"I hope we won't play 'Guess the Terms of the Alliance'?" I asked tiredly.
"Of course we won't," Ashsha assured me. "I was in your head. I know what you are looking for. I know what you want. I can guess what results you will reach. And I offer you help."
"What kind?"
Instead of an answer, a three-dimensional map of the galaxy appeared before my eyes. In the form it was known to the Infinite Empire. However, the huge number of inhabited worlds in those areas that the Republic considered the Unknown Regions and Wild Space... frankly baffled me.
"You are playing a very interesting, but extremely risky game," the Mother Machine continued. "The Forge you possess is not perfect. Its development was spontaneous, erratic—and incorrect. What you have now can be improved many times over. And your fleet will increase several-fold in the shortest possible time. Continuing to use it in this state, you will never create an army more numerous than your enemies."
"There's always a 'but', isn't there?" I smirked.
"Otherwise you would already be bleeding from all your pores, decomposing before my processors," Ashsha smirked. "It is in my power to improve the operation of your... New Forge. To correct errors, to excise archaisms. To rebuild it for maximum productivity. You will be the first in the last twenty-five thousand years to receive the help of a pureblood Rakata. And that is worth much."
"Sounds... promising. And what will I owe in return?"
The map changed, zooming in on one of the regions in Wild Space.
"This is what you are looking for, Egor," she explained. "The Rakata Archipelago. The last bastion of my people. A citadel, the mention of which has been erased from all sources and archives."
Bitch. She's even teasing me with what I can never get. At least—not in the near future.
"Precisely," Ashsha smiled, as if she had read my thoughts. Hutt! Of course she had—I was in her total power. "I have no doubt that the secrets of teleporters, Star Forges, ships and hyperdrives powered by the Force, Force-weapons—all of it is hidden there. I have looked into your consciousness. And I know you lust to possess all of it."
"Anyone would. One day the Empire will descend upon it. And take everything it can reach."
"That is so," the Rakata blinked her huge eyes. "I do not doubt that in a few years you will succeed. In twelve, to be exact. Provided that all this time your state hides from enemies and spends all its resources to find hyperspace routes in that area of space you call the Unknown Regions. What a pleasant coincidence that I can significantly accelerate your search."
"How?"
"My comrades erased all records of the archipelago from computers and Star Maps. But not from my mind," she assured me, touching her index finger to one of the wrists of her temple. In confirmation of these words, a set of navigation coordinates appeared near each of the star system projections. Just long enough for me to see them, but not enough to memorize them. "You came here for help—to stop the genetic decay of your organism. Giving me nothing in return."
"I didn't even know you existed."
"Now you do. Be my ally, and I will not just stop the genetic degradation of your body. I will do more."
"What exactly?" my inner hoarder licked his chops with renewed vigor.
"You will be changed," she smiled. "With the knowledge of the ancient Rakata, the results of my experiments, I will make you better. Stronger, faster, more perfect. There will be no limits for you in absorbing Force sources, and everything you want will become yours. Potentially, naturally. What your Teacher did makes you one of the strongest adepts of your time. I will merely optimize the mess he called 'selection.' I will squeeze out of your organism the maximum of its potential, which you have yet to master. Reaching your limit, with my help, you will become the strongest. Not a single Force-sensitive will be a competitor to you once you learn to use the full potential of your body that I... will rebuild."
"Even the Celestials?" I smirked, referring to the former masters of the Rakata. A poorly studied race called the Celestials—they were rare bastards (it would seem—are there any others in the GFFA?), who hundreds of thousands of years before today ruled the galaxy. Like the Rakata, they enslaved other civilizations, but—and here is the difference—sought to develop them. Naturally, for their own benefit. And then the Celestials simply vanished. How, what, where, why—unknown. The only mention of them is the so-called Family, consisting of the Father—the guardian of the Balance of the Force, the Son—an incarnation of the Dark Side, and the Daughter—well, a beauty, known for supporting the Light, with whom Skywalker dealt. The Family, or rather its head, the Father, decided to test the Chosen One for the possibility of controlling the Balance of the Force. And the Chosen One even passed this test. In his own style. In the end, the Son killed the Daughter, and the Father, to finish the Son, killed himself. That was the result of the Chosen One's Trial. If it were up to me, I would broadcast this story on the HoloNet with a warning—DO NOT ASSOCIATE WITH SKYWALKER. The guy can't save anyone. He just puffs himself up, and in the end, everyone kicks the bucket. Wanted to study under Qui-Gon. He got shanked. Tried to save his mother: slaughtered an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders, only to bury her in the end. Assured Kenobi he wouldn't be the cause of his death—and drove the old man to the point where he merged with the Force of his own will. Dreamed of saving Padmé from death—slaughtered the entire Jedi Order, even the younglings, and in the end nearly choked his beloved, and with a pair of his own brats inside her to boot. This guy should resolutely be avoided by a mile—that's why he's unpleasant to me. When I see him—it's repulsive, I lose my appetite.
"Do not be so greedy," Ashsha wagged a finger at me. "I can do much, but not everything. By developing your renewed body, you will become dozens of times stronger than the potential your Teacher prepared for you."
"Delicious, but as soon as he realizes it—I'm a dead man."
"Vitiate is skilled in the Force," Ashsha agreed. "But he is only a ghost. And much is unknown outside a body. I will rid you of his mental blocks, of the ridiculous moral principles of your past life that are foreign to this world, and I will block your mind from foreign encroachment. Perhaps this will break your Force Bonds with the apprentice, but one must sacrifice something."
Indeed. One must. Those Bonds were nothing but trouble.
"You promise me only pleasantries," I moved to the most unpleasant topic of the conversation. "And what will I owe in return?"
"Return me to life," just like that?!
"Are you serious?" did I really expect it to be so simple? "Your body is destroyed."
"I am a Rakata, you senseless child," the Mother Machine grew angry. "The last representative of the true Rakata, whose mind is not clouded by desires for power and the enslavement of other sentients. Do you really think that the limit of my dreams is to remain forever in this prison, changing my children? No! I want to live. Again. To breathe air. To taste food. To know the joy of physical contact again. To drink the blood of an enemy's still-warm corpse or eat his still-beating heart..."
Well, yeah, that's exactly what the galaxy has been missing lately, I thought, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. Release this monster? She intends to eat her enemies, and at the same time says she's not a fan of aggression and enslaving those around her? If she's a pacifist in her own way, I don't want to meet representatives of her race who are aggressively inclined. I don't know about you, but such a prospect scares the crap out of me.
"You said yourself that your body is destroyed," I clung to the last possibility to refuse.
"Naive child," she smirked. "I am the greatest of my race's scientists, the elite of our society. Do you really think our society did not reach the level of development where it can use any body sensitive to the Force for its needs?"
This was where it got bad. Because there were only three such bodies in the Mother Machine's room. And each of them was dear to me. To one degree or another.
"Stupid child," the Rakata laughed, obviously having read my thoughts once again. "I am a representative of the most ancient race in the known galaxy. Do you really think I would defile myself by crawling into the body of a slave? No. You will find a Rakata body for me. Strong and young."
"How?" I was stunned.
"I will give you access to the Rakata Archipelago," she said in a completely innocent tone.
"Just like that, you'll give me what I desire?!" I said incredulously. "Even considering you already promised to improve my body?"
"Yes," again, simple as that. "I need a strong ally. You don't think I'll let you destroy the Rakata, do you?"
"Wait, what? You said you're killing them for revenge."
"I am, yes. But not you. My people are outside your interests."
"Mother, I'm already confused," I had to admit. "You want me to bring you to the Rakata Archipelago? And how will you seize it if your mind is in this computer?"
"No, child," Ashsha shook her head. "When I finish with your body, you will take the mind trap and transfer it to the New Forge. I will show you where it should be installed. I will fix your Forge—I will need many Force-sensitives for the reconstruction. You will receive a huge fleet, which you will place under my command."
"I have enough experienced commanders," I countered. "Thrawn, for instance, will do a fine job of breaking the Rakata resistance."
"Details are not important," Ashsha interrupted me. "One way or another, you will return my mind to Rakata territory. There I will choose a body, seize it, and lead my people. And your army and fleet will help me in this. After all, your Imperial Knights need to test their abilities in real combat."
"Too good to be true."
"Unquestionably," the Rakata smirked. "Who else in twenty-five thousand years has managed to take such a chance?"
"But you helped Kallig. And you didn't ask him to restore your power."
"At that time, I did not know that the Rakata had still escaped to the archipelago. But now, thanks to you, it is no secret. And how could a Sith reconcile with the fact that somewhere in the galaxy, a power capable of destroying his beloved Empire would rise?"
"And you think I'll be happy with such a potential opponent?"
"Opponent?" the Mother Machine snorted. "No. The Rakata will remain within their territory that they occupy now. Of course, you will have to return our home world to me—Lehon. As well as the New Forge."
"And just like that, lose the best factory in the galaxy?"
"Lose it? No. The Rakata under my leadership will become excellent associates of the Eternal Empire. On the rights of an independent state, naturally. Receiving any types of resources necessary for the new Rakata Empire."
"Including Force-sensitive sentients, right?" I narrowed my eyes.
"You must put potential threats somewhere, must you not? Jedi, Sith," Ashsha shrugged. "Leaving them alive is unwise and dangerous. You know this yourself. A small price for what I am offering you."
"Aren't you asking for too much?"
"I am offering a lot in return," the Rakata said coldly. A note of irritation appeared in her tone. "You are ready to enter an alliance with the Chiss, who are inferior to my people in everything. How is my Empire worse than these... children?"
"In no way. But where is the guarantee that the Rakata won't one day turn against the Eternal Empire? If the Chiss revolt, I can pin them down. Not without blood, of course."
"Is my word not enough for you?" Ashsha wondered. Seeing that it wasn't, she added. "Fine, you may keep the Abo system, Lehon, and the New Forge under your control. But it will be managed by my people. A small insurance in case you decide to create a fleet against me."
So, here's the bargaining. Although... how can you argue with a being who knows all your thoughts?
"I want something else..."
"You can take all the slaves currently in the archipelago. But in exchange, I demand you share with me all the knowledge of the Force you possess."
"To train your own army of Force-sensitives?"
"Military parity," the Rakata smiled. "Another guarantee that you will think twice before attacking."
"Then Belsavis and the Esh-kha remain under my command."
"No. Take the planet and this complex, but my children stay with me," Ashsha answered sharply. "Must I not have an army loyal to me personally?"
Well, yeah, who would have doubted.
I was starting to like this deal less and less.
"I want the mind trap technology."
"Mmm... a small surprise for your opponents?" the Rakata nodded understandingly. "That is... acceptable. I think I can give you even more."
"It's like Life Day. What else?"
"When I reign over my people, your scientists will be able to study all the Rakata technologies present in the archipelago's space."
"Even that? Aren't you afraid we'll be able to build our own Star Forges?"
"Even if you start now, it would take you several tens of thousands of years," Ashsha smirked. "You are not a Rakata. You cannot sacrifice thousands of Force-sensitives to accelerate the Forge's evolutionary process."
Bitch.
"A cunning offer," I smirked. "My fleet now, in exchange for benefits in the future."
"You are receiving some things now," Ashsha reminded me. "Your body, for example. The prison complex and the entire planet of Belsavis. You have already guessed that the rituals performed with your servants, with your guards—are a semblance of what is happening to you now? Imagine what you can do having the Mother Machine under your control? For a growing Empire—more than decent gifts."
"You are so sure that by ending our conversation now, I will deliver you to the place. Why?"
"Because Blood Claw is now listening to his Mother, whom he has feared for thousands of years," the Rakata smirked. "You have done me an invaluable service by bringing my children into the complex. I have not succeeded in that for nearly three thousand years. Truly, your abilities as an empath are great."
And once again—what a bitch.
And—what an idiot I am.
"So, two Empires, peacefully coexisting with each other," I said, tasting the words. "It's hard to believe the Rakata won't start their crusade against the sentients of the galaxy again."
"They will," she promised. "But not to the detriment of the Eternal Empire's interests or yours."
"I don't understand," I grew wary. "The Unknown Regions are our sphere of interest. As is most of the galaxy."
"Really?" Ashsha smirked. "You will have to share, young Emperor. For example, when the Rakata Empire pays a visit to the Gree Enclave, the Eternal Empire can always participate in the division of spoils. And talented slaves."
"In exchange for non-interference, I assume?"
"Exactly. See, Emperor, how profitable it is to negotiate," Ashsha said, her eyes flashing from opposite sides of her skull.
"Why do you want the Gree?" I inquired. "You've already destroyed another ancient race—the Kwa."
"Though the Gree have degenerated—a process that began during my lifetime—they are still skilled slaves. Their navigation equipment is the most perfect in the galaxy. I think it will be useful to my Empire to avoid wasting Force-sensitive resources. There aren't many of them as it is," the Rakata narrowed her eyes. "So, what is your answer, child?"
A choice.
Again.
Die now, and lose guaranteed. Or agree, believing her promises. And in the end, receive not only personal power but access to knowledge that is priceless. Just the creation of the strongest Force-adepts is worth something. Not to mention the modernization of the New Forge, mind traps, Force-weapons...
It's a pity, of course, that I won't be able to get my hands exclusively on the Gree Enclave—the last refuge of one of the most ancient and powerful races. But...
"I agree," do I even have a choice? Especially when my life depends on it. "But before we finish and get out of here, I have one more condition."
"Testing your luck to the last drop?" the Rakata asked with a note of threat in her voice. Then, falling silent for a moment, having read the contents of my thoughts, she smiled. "Amusing... But nothing is impossible for me. Your wish will be the final condition of our agreement."
"As you say, Ashsha," I shrugged. I had already squeezed the maximum out of the situation. Looking at the suspiciously silent Rakata, I corrected myself. "Empress Ashsha."
"That is better, child," she praised. "Now, return to your servants. I am eager to fulfill your last condition and leave this planet. I have been alone here for too long."
"You've already finished with my organism?" I was surprised.
"Even before we began this conversation," Ashsha threw out carelessly, teaching me another lesson. Fine, I'll remember that. "Return your consciousness to your body. Our conversation has tired me quite a bit."
Consciousness returned instantly. My head was slightly foggy, and my entire torso was tingling as if it had "fallen asleep." Not scary, but unpleasant. On the other hand—no tearing pains, no disorientation.
They really had "fixed" me.
"Master," Kira was nearby, instantly catching me. Look at that, so small, yet so much strength in her. Lifting a carcass weighing about a hundred kilograms—including armor—is not like lifting dumbbells in the gym or doing squats. "Are you all right?"
"I think so," in reality, there was a taste of cat-mischief in my mouth, and my limbs were poorly obedient. But compared to the fact that even in such a "boiled" state I felt a hundred times better than before this "procedure"... Yes, it was resolutely worth it.
With a habitual flick of thought, I summoned the Force, which responded, and not just instantly. It felt as if it, like a pet attack dog trained by the best instructors in the galaxy, was just waiting for the master to call it.
Passing streams of energy through my body, I felt with awe that the body... had changed. It was as if the channels through which the Force raged had been bored out many times over, and now instead of a turbulent stream, I was controlling an entire ocean. Considering that even before this my power was striking... Now I felt capable of destroying planets simply by directing my own reserve of the Force at them.
The power that the Sith of the past chased, and the Jedi too, to be honest, was now subject to me. Without any consequences.
"It seems your Emperor will live a bit longer," I smirked, watching as Oli flew toward me at the speed of a cannonball and buried herself in my embrace.
"I thought something had happened to you. All these lightning bolts, the glow, and that stupid computer just stays silent," she babbled breathlessly. Hugging the girl, I smiled and stroked her head. Small, worried, she was raging in the Force like an ocean of passions, washing away the shores of habitual foundations.
"Scared?" I asked her.
"You bet!" she declared, sobbing. "Don't you dare scare me like that again, you idiot! You glowed so much we could see your skeleton!"
"M?" I looked in surprise at Kira and the Twi'lek sisters. All three nodded affirmatively. Suspiciously-surprisingly synchronously.
"Everything has a price," I repeated the words I had recently heard. Feeling that I could move independently without discomfort, I detached the Padawan as tactfully as possible. However, Oli wouldn't be Oli if everything went so simply. Though she released both hands, with a masterful pirouette she ended up on my right, placing my hand on her shoulder and wrapping her arm around my waist.
On the holoprojector, the familiar figure of Ashsha appeared. She watched us silently, arms crossed over her chest. Meeting my gaze, she raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Are we leaving, lord?" Kira asked, looking at the hologram with a frown.
"Yes. Only there's something that needs to be done," nodding to the Rakata, I removed my hand from the girl's shoulder, looking into her eyes.
"Do you trust me?" Starstone's gaze expressed complete bewilderment. There was even a flicker of fear. In the end, a typical mask appeared on the surface, behind which the Padawan hid her delicate soul.
Sighing, she looked at me reproachfully:
"Even if I say 'yes,' we're still not going to sleep together, are we?"