The cockpit of the TIE Avenger pulsed with light: glowing monitors and flashing screens continuously signaled warnings about the ever-changing developments of the battle.
But Asajj Ventress was not even looking at the screens.
Her perception of events extended far beyond the confines of the starfighter cockpit, far beyond the information provided by electronic instruments and the helmet visor.
The Force was her ally and allowed her to sense far more than even the most sensitive scanners and the best instruments in the galaxy could provide a pilot.
She knew the position of every ship in this battle, anticipated their maneuvers before they began to come to life, predicted cannon salvos and the pursuit of her fighter by enemy fighters.
Her expanded sphere of consciousness allowed her to foresee every salvo from the laser cannons of her fighter's pursuers, every elusive turn and roll, any movement and countermovement made by the ship chasing her.
She was being pursued by an ace pilot who had latched on not far from a small hangar she had spotted for landing her craft.
The pilot clearly surpassed most of his comrades in professionalism, but matching Ventress was clearly beyond him.
So, when she grew tired of toying with the pursuer, the Dathomirian witch spun her starfighter on its thrusters alone and blasted the V-19 Torrent with a full cannon salvo.
Without paying attention to the explosion, she returned to her previous course.
Several enemy fighters were already approaching, but concussion missiles resolved the issue of their existence, and while the deflector shields sagged, it was not by much.
The battle was beginning to tire her.
She frowned in tense concentration; her breathing became uneven and ragged.
Droplets of sweat rolled down her forehead, making her eyes sting.
Still, it was time for her to finish with piloting—she had sufficiently drawn the attention of the Force-sensitive sentient on the bridge of the Lucrehulk.
Lucrehulk-class battleship (modified LH-3210 cargo freighter)
Now he would definitely come to meet her.
Asajj practically felt with her skin the Dark Side emanating from the opponent.
His hunger for killing, his anomalous joyful emotions, his thirst for triumph and inflicting suffering.
True madness, gifted by uncontrolled falling to the Dark Side.
You kindle emotions in yourself that strengthen your connection to the Dark Side.
The deeper this connection, the stronger the emotions.
And this cycle becomes an end in itself, a way of existence, which is practically impossible to destroy.
Usually, you notice this only when it is already too late.
Feeding the Dark Side of the Force becomes your everyday routine, the meaning of life.
Otherwise, you simply cannot imagine how to exist.
The longer you exist in such a whirlwind of emotions and the Dark Side, the faster your body ages.
The strain she experienced in this fighter battle was not something extreme—from an objective point of view.
Just thirty years ago, she could freely fly and kill for long, long hours, deriving pleasure from every death.
Now...
Subjectively, the strain she was experiencing was monstrous; yet, despite progressing mental exhaustion, her physical condition was at a level that allowed her to maintain mental focus and draw on the Dark Side of the Force to influence the course of the clash with enemy pilots who dared to challenge the Dathomirian witch.
She already clearly sensed the presence aboard the Zann Consortium's Lucrehulk (and to hell with the fact that barely faded Confederacy of Independent Systems emblems on board were overlaid with Corporate Sector identification marks) of a gifted individual.
She could confidently say that at the beginning of the battle, this point of rage and hatred was on the bridge of the Lucrehulk, and now it was shifting from the ship's core center to the periphery.
Directly to the hangar she had marked for landing inside the ship.
Well, now everything had definitely gone awry, but it still fit within the framework of her plan—to make the measures to capture the enemy commander more realistic.
The only thing that threw her off was that, after leaving the ysalamiri zone aboard the Crimson Dawn, she sensed the Dark Side emanating from her opponent much more strongly.
Now it resembled only a pale shadow.
But nonetheless—powerful enough to understand that a clash with him would not end in a couple of seconds or minutes, as usually happens in lightsaber battles.
It was time to stop playing with the pilots.
She already sensed that the starship with the naval special forces strike team had arrived and docked on the opposite side of the ship-core.
It was time to break through.
She looped and tumbled amid the bursts of anti-fighter turret fire, shaking off pursuers and other enemies, carving her way forward.
Reacting with speed born of instinct, honed by training and supported by Dark Side intuition, she pulled back the engine control lever and bore down hard on the sticks.
The starfighter dove into a steep plunge, neatly ducking under three successive laser cannon shots from the Lucrehulk.
Emerging from the dive, she made a wide turn and headed back along the enemy's hull.
The Dark Side adept she was tracking had, as it turned out, already left the ship-core and was now moving through the huge hangar occupying most of the starship's open ring.
Obviously, all the enemy pilots' attacks on Ventress were an attempt to buy him time to escape.
That was all well and good and fit Shohashi's plan, but she had questions too.
Ventress understood and accepted battles for ideology, wars for spheres of influence, and those aimed at complete annihilation of opponents.
But to be on the side of criminals...
Whoever this gifted individual was, he was clearly not the only one serving the Zann Consortium.
In a one-on-one confrontation, she intended to extract more information from the opponent about the organization.
She was also beginning to harbor vague doubts that there might be several Dominion-hostile Dark Side adepts aboard the starship.
That would explain the difference in the aura she had initially sensed and what she detected now.
Her Avenger tore through the defensive perimeter around the Lucrehulk too quickly and nimbly to be targeted by an enemy escort fighter or turret.
Passing through the "corporate" defenses, she headed straight into the heart of the main hangar, shooting down V-19s taking off from the hangar deck with her cannon fire.
The crew guessed her intentions, but the protective blast doors lowered only a fraction of a second after her starship was inside.
The ship spun, skidding across the landing deck surface, and she opened fire, destroying nearly all the soldiers unfortunate enough to be inside the bay and in her path.
As soon as the starfighter braked, Ventress, who had already discarded her helmet, immediately flung open the hatch and leaped from the cockpit onto the deck.
In the next instant, several missiles hit the Avenger behind her, exploding the ship.
But that no longer interested her.
She would always find a way to get off a dying enemy starship—she knew how to survive like no one else.
Nimbly landing on her feet ten meters from the explosion site and shielding herself with the Force from flying debris, Ventress drew and ignited her lightsabers in one fluid motion.
The first wide arc of crimson blades deflected the blaster fire from two fighters in brown armor who had survived the initial attack, redirecting it safely without harming the witch.
With one leap, Ventress covered six meters to her opponents; another synchronized swing of both lightsabers ended their worthless lives.
But others were already running to replace them.
Asajj smiled predatorily and charged into the attack.
A couple of minutes later, she stopped to assess the situation.
Bodies shredded by her lightsabers and mechanisms smashed to bits were all that remained of the fighters, technicians, and equipment servicing the Corporate Sector's fighters on this starship.
Smiling, she stepped over the threshold of the airlock leading into the ship's interior.
Quickly and confidently, she advanced through the corridors, guided by the Force emanating from the Dark Side adept, like a rancor scenting prey and following its trail.
In one of the corridors, a security team intercepted her.
From the disintegrators on their uniforms, she realized she was now facing not ordinary fighters, but the elite.
The best of the best available to the Corporate Sector's armed forces.
They posed a greater threat—especially with disintegrators in their playful hands.
Ventress knew well the training of these fighters.
And the characteristics of this deadly weapon.
One of the fighters even managed to fire, blasting a hole in the bulkhead behind her, before the entire team fell to her blades.
By the time she reached the large compartment beyond whose bulkhead she clearly sensed the Dark Side radiation that could never be mistaken once one had stepped onto this path, she had destroyed over a hundred enemy soldiers.
Their severed limbs, bodies hacked apart, destroyed weapons, and torsos crushed by her littered the deck in a bloody carpet—testimony to her rage and unstoppable power.
Two more elite enemy fighters barred her path.
They were ready to engage, but openly cowered, seeing what had become of their predecessors.
But retreating, fleeing, saving their worthless lives—they clearly had no intention of doing.
So much the worse for them.
She sensed the Dark Side adept behind the bulkhead experiencing confusion.
But it lasted only a moment—after which he began moving away toward the opposite wall.
That alone gave her understanding—he was not strong enough and thus fled from any danger.
Strange that he had not left his fleet at the first signs of defeat by Shohashi's ships.
Ventress had no intention of wasting time and getting dirty with these fanatics: engaging them in combat she considered beneath her dignity.
Instead, she simply thrust her right fist forward and channeled a stream of the Force through it.
Both opponents were smeared across the dented bulkhead, their internals crushed by their own armor.
Without stopping, she blasted the locked hatch door with another push.
Explosions rang out inside—traps set specifically for her had triggered.
At the far wall, she saw her opponent—a human male of slender build, who looked at her in panic, igniting his lightsaber.
"Where do you think you're running, little fool?" Ventress bared her teeth, spinning her lightsaber blades and taking cautious steps, approaching her victim. "I'm here, which means your worst nightmare has already come true."
***
The battle with the enemy fleet was reaching its climax.
The destruction one after another of three Recusant-class light destroyers introduced chaos into the enemy ranks.
Erik noted that the "corporates'" actions had ceased to be bold and coordinated.
In tactical terms, this is called "loss of initiative."
And it stands next to pernicious panic.
The Lucrehulk-class battleship was going nowhere—like a large predatory bird, the Crimson Dawn hung over it in the upper echelon and held it in its invisible tractor beam claws.
The ship desperately fought back with the remnants of its artillery, but all these attempts to escape were futile.
The forward naval special forces strike team was already in the ship-sphere and advancing successfully.
Stormtroopers from the space marines had taken control of both main hangar bays, and now landing shuttles were continuously flying in, disembarking squad after squad onto the Lucrehulk's flight deck.
Battle droids and droidekas moved from corridors to compartments and back, clearing everything in their path.
No mercy for those who did not lay down their weapons.
Erik roughly imagined how the attack, which knew no mercy, affected the opponent.
And when new ones arrived to replace each downed droid.
Such an attack would never falter.
And the enemy soldiers understood that.
The death of their comrades and the unyielding will of the assault droids fueled their fear of death, from which despair was born, crushing hearts and souls with cold, clammy numbness.
It seemed that any action you took was already meaningless.
Ideologically motivated soldiers would never succumb to panic—if they knew their cause was just.
Corporate Sector soldiers were such only nominally.
Previously, they considered themselves the strongest and invincible.
Until now, they had not encountered such relentless and merciless opponents as the Dominion's stormtroopers, ahead of whom moved battle droids.
Panic had already begun—and the opponent was starting to flee to means of salvation, thinking it would help.
A fatal mistake.
Every wrong move by the opponent multiplies when the mind cannot process arrays of information.
Every hesitation turned into an avalanche of errors and mistakes that overwhelmed even the most disciplined fighters.
Every death sowed fear and a sense of hopelessness.
The battle, barely begun, was already nearing its end.
The Corporate Sector fleet was in complete disarray.
Three Recusants destroyed.
The Lucrehulk battleship under boarding attack, with all its fighters either destroyed or driven off the starship by Crimson Dawn aviation.
Its cargo counterpart had lost its main shields in the first swift raid by Scimitars.
Now Dominion Star Destroyers were closing in on it, taking the suddenly vulnerable cargo freighter in their sights with devastating weapons.
Turbolasers burned out firing points, ion cannons silenced entire sections of the massive hull.
Swift Dimels were trying with all their might to disrupt the methodical attack on all fronts, or at least escape the trap they had fallen into due to their own belief in safety.
The turbolaser barrage fire conducted by cruisers, destroyers, and corvettes launched from their bays only proved once again the uselessness of the enemy strike ships against an opponent designed for waging war, not intimidating competitors.
Remaining enemy fighter groups were sliced into separate links and pairs, followed by their total destruction by Dominion ship aviation forces.
Dimel-class strike ship.
Two Dimels, coordinating their attack, rushed toward the Red Dragon, intending to break past it while the destroyer's gunners were finishing off two of their brethren.
The collapse of the opponent's plans was as clear as a Tatooine noon.
Redirecting their heavy weapons, the cumbersome corporate Lucrehulks relied on support ships—Dimels—to create defensive lines to contain the Dominion.
Without these lines, they were practically defenseless against the superior number of Dominion warship guns.
Erik tracked the opponent's escape attempt.
Both Dimels lay on a vector that reduced the number of guns the Red Dragon's gunners could target them with.
The "corporates" wanted to bypass them, pouring fire from all cannons onto the Star Destroyer's superstructure.
Logical tactics.
If the Red Dragon's crew tried to change position to bring more guns to bear, the Dimels would turn and attack from another vector, inflicting even more damage.
Or simply go behind its stern and either destroy the engines or break out of the trap.
The plan allowed escape for only one sentient—the commander of this corporate formation.
But not a single starship would leave here.
The Red Dragon, despite several sensitive hits to its hull, did not change its position in formation.
And the Dimels broke out of encirclement.
Only to become victims of Scimitars in close proximity.
Approaching on a counter-course with the enemy ships, two swift bombers launched proton torpedoes.
A second later, it was over.
Explosions starting in the bow sections of the Corporate Sector starships continued with a chain of internal detonations that tore the starships apart.
"Sir, from the Imperious they report that all Super Transport cargo starships are immobilized with ion cannons," reported the watch officer.
"Direct the nearest cruisers and fighters to them for control of the starships," ordered Shohashi. "No boarding until we finish with the Lucrehulks. All destroyers—target remaining Dimels. Then shift to perimeter guard."
"As you command, Counter-Admiral!"
The cargo Lucrehulk was no longer a fighter.
Its hull was already charred from numerous Dominion turbolaser and missile hits.
Its firing points suppressed, and assault teams boarding, launching droids ahead.
Four strike starships—that was all that remained of the Corporate Sector formation at this point.
The first two tried to break through the line of the Red Dragon and Eviscerator.
Obviously, they did not see or account for what happened to their predecessors.
But now they were met by crossfire from both destroyers, reinforced by salvos from heavy cruisers.
The other two ships, swarmed by interceptors and shelled by the flagship's broadside artillery, could not hold out longer than the previous group.
One of them lunged toward the Imperious but exploded, running into combined fire from the Tyrant and Assassin.
Accurate short salvos—and the Corporate Sector starship no longer existed.
Say what you will, but credit must be given to the crews of former Ubiqtorate fleet starships—those servicemen deemed loyal to the Dominion and continuing to serve in the regular fleet were indeed masters of their craft.
At first, Erik regretted that former Ubiqtorate Star Destroyers captured last year were transferred to his command, but now he acknowledged the correctness of that decision.
Releasing these ships into the galaxy would have been a mistake—while the opinion holds that the Ubiqtorate was destroyed and cleared by the New Republic, it would be quite imprudent to send them on missions in the Dominion's interests where they could be recognized and reported to the Imperials.
Moreover, anyone with information on the names of starships captured by the Dominion at Sluis Van surely understood that no "Ubiqtorate" ships were present there.
Explaining their appearance with the Dominion would be quite difficult, unless the Grand Admiral devised a way to do so without raising Imperial suspicions.
Though, let command's head ache over that.
Erik continued his battle.
Another Dimel simply vanished, crushed by an explosion that tore the strike ship apart.
It happened so quickly that Shohashi needed confirmation.
Yes, this opponent was caught by the flagship Crimson Dawn's anti-ship missiles.
Now it remained only to observe how the Red Dragon and Eviscerator roasted the crews of the last two enemy strike ships in their own vessels.
One of them opened fire from bow guns to drop the Eviscerator's shields, while the other unleashed a barrage of laser and turbolaser fire there, causing massive detonation on the Star Destroyer's nose, accompanied by a small internal detonation that exposed several internal compartments to merciless space.
It was a brilliant maneuver: under merciless attack, two ships perfectly coordinated their efforts to destroy a common enemy superior in class and armament.
Such seemed simply impossible.
But one must acknowledge that in battle, successes are not only on the attackers' side.
Especially since this was only a small victory before the final rout of the opponent formation.
The Eviscerator did not even budge—oxygen in its breached compartments burned out, and the damage was not even worth attention.
In retaliation for the breach and loss of several crew members, the Star Destroyer concentrated fire on the bow of the nearest Corporate Sector strike ship.
Given the pistol-range distance between starships, every turbolaser shot hit the target.
If he had "triples" under command, everything could be resolved much faster, but Erik understood that no matter how much he wanted, the Dominion could not rebuild all its Star Destroyers to the latest modifications in short order.
No need to be upset about being shortchanged on novelties—the Crimson Dawn was worth an entire fleet of Star Destroyers.
And if he wanted to destroy every enemy starship in the formation with just one Warrior—he would do it quickly, without making himself wait long.
The Eviscerator simply sawed its opponent with turbolaser fire from nose to mid-hull—then reactors and fuel tanks exploded, scattering the starship not even reaching a hundred meters in length from nose to main engine nozzle edge.
The second, on which the Crimson Dawn had dropped shields, lunged aside, breaking course to escape the shockwave and accelerated debris from its brother.
But only exposed its starboard side to more convenient fire from the Red Dragon's gunners.
Daggers of coherent white-green struck precisely the center of the side, vaporizing thin armor, burning and breaching bulkheads, melting compartment after compartment...
A second later, the starship flared white-orange, ending its life path.
"All enemy Dimel-class starships destroyed, sir," reported the watch officer. "Super Transports silenced and under guard. Attempts to launch equipment suppressed by cruiser and destroyer ion cannon fire."
"Acknowledged," replied Erik. "Monitor them until oxygen runs out aboard each freighter."
He had no intention of wasting his fighters' or even droids' lives storming military units locked in doomed starships.
They would die themselves or surrender—find a way.
"Order ship commanders to launch rescue shuttles," directed Erik. "Collect all pilots and damaged fighters, interceptors. Ours and the opponent's. Special attention to escape pods from Corporate Sector starships."
"As you command, sir."
"What about the Lucrehulk captures?" asked the Alderaanian.
"On the cargo one, advancing slowly—large number of opponents aboard. On the combat one—half the ship already under our control. Naval special forces report capturing the bridge, and stormtroopers shifting to clearing compartments of hidden 'corporates.'"
"General Ventress located?" inquired Erik.
"Presumed in the right half of the cargo module of the starship, but the path there is blocked by opponent infantry."
"Huttese witch. Just hope she doesn't forget that the enemy commander should be allowed to escape," thought Erik.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. From the fourth interceptor squadron comes a report that one starship—a modified bounty hunter vessel—managed to escape. Pilots could not stop it—it proved too accurate and dangerous an opponent. Only two pilots survived from the squadron."
Too good an opponent for ace pilots from the fourth interceptor squadron?
Something new.
And an atypical starship for an ordinary vessel.
Likely the enemy commander escaped.
But, Hutts take it, what is Ventress doing then?!
***
The man unexpectedly transformed from a cornered beast into a smiling human.
"You felt that too?" he asked hoarsely.
A short burst of the Dark Side accompanying several deaths vanished.
Not died, but in one moment was far beyond the witch's perception.
"Seems they abandoned you here," Ventress smirked, continuing to slowly close the distance.
To get on the opponent's nerves, she periodically sliced the top of the compartment's plating with her blade tips, leaving melted trenches in it.
She had seen this done in the past by General Grievous before starting to kill Jedi.
Very effective.
Given her plans to talk the scoundrel out—better to drag out time and start a conversation.
"That was the plan," the opponent said importantly, demonstrating a Soresu readiness stance.
Memories surfaced—Obi-Wan Kenobi preferred this fencing style.
But the acolyte before her was no Kenobi.
"My master has withdrawn and now knows everything about you," the opponent declared smugly, tracking her approach with his eyes. "Now your entire Dominion will burn in fire. Now we know how you fight and what you can oppose us with—your conquest will be swift and bloody. All Imperials will be exterminated, and my death will decide nothing."
The distance between them shrank to ten meters, and the Dark Side adept retreated when Asajj took another, very small, step forward.
Despite his verbal bravado and knowledge of Soresu, he was frightened and trying to back away.
No doubt that he was not the commander of this Corporate Sector fleet formation.
The Dathomirian witch already saw what her opponent was hoping for.
Behind his back was the hatch control panel, into which he intended to slip to escape her.
To his misfortune, that would not happen.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but it won't work," she said with a smirk, hurling one lightsaber at the opponent.
The energy blade spinning around the hilt was perceived by the opponent as aimed at his head.
No wonder he ducked.
And the crimson stream of energy buried into the wall behind his back, severing the power cable to the panel.
With a light gesture of the Force, Ventress returned the weapon to her hand, virtuously spinning it with her wrist.
"Nowhere left to run," she said with a smile. "If you want to save yourself—you'll have to defeat me."
The opponent changed stance, taking the weapon in both hands.
His posture changed, showing this style was more familiar than the previously demonstrated Soresu.
Well, the little deception was revealed.
If with Soresu he could still offer her something, then Shii-Cho, the first and most elementary form of lightsaber mastery taught to all Jedi in youth, was no more than a game to her.
Against Jar'Kai with elements of Makashi, which she mastered perfectly, this adept was not even a full opponent.
Now the opponent stood with his back to a rectangular viewport, through which the last markers of the fading battle were visible.
Only now, as he held the lightsaber hilt, did the Dathomirian witch notice a sort of guard on the device, made of intertwined curving metal strips.
And she did not even need to test it in practice—it was done specifically to prevent damage to the lightsaber's emitter and thus disable it.
Hand protection from this design was so-so.
"I will destroy you," the opponent hissed.
"You can at least try," Asajj corrected him. "From my experience, I'll tell you that more than one Jedi has tried to do that. As it turned out, none succeeded. But they all served a good cause—surely their decomposing bodies fertilize the soil of dozens of worlds across the galaxy."
This admission clearly puzzled her opponent.
"You seem familiar to me," he muttered.
"Imagine me without hair," Ventress suggested, pondering whether to simply vent the viewport transparisteel and eject the sub-opponent into space instead of wasting time.
On the other hand, capturing him or talking him out could help the Dominion learn where and how many Force-capable sentients the Zann Consortium had in service.
Given that it was previously assumed there were none, data from this sentient could prove far more useful than reports from scouts or even captives from this battle.
"So you're Asajj Ventress!" the opponent's eyes gleamed with recognition. "Count Dooku's acolyte!"
"You guessed it," she smirked. "Only the old geezer's long in the grave, and I'm alive, well, and found work again. For example—killing under-Jedi under-Sith like you and your master."
The opponent's face twisted in rage.
"You will answer for all the Jedi you killed!" he shouted in her face, glancing around with clear intent to attack.
"Oh, so you're concerned about the Jedi I killed?" she smirked, stepping aside, thus placing herself between the man and the hatch she had blasted. "And why? Oh, don't tell me! Let me guess—you were a Jedi, right?"
"I am Danaan Kerr!" he said with unconcealed and foolish pride. "Jedi Knight!"
"Oh, wow," Ventress laughed softly. "So that's where you've been hiding, little fool."
Danaan Kerr.
"You know me?" he asked.
"There's a bounty on your head," Ventress shared, diligently searching her memory for what she knew about this man. "A Jedi fallen to the Dark Side, nicknamed 'the mad dark mage.' Fifteen thousand credits offered for your head by the New Republic. Though it was offered by General Kraken, now deceased."
Kerr terrorized an entire planet, subjugating its inhabitants, seeking among them those who could train in the ways of the Dark Side under his direct control.
But it all boiled down to him killing all his students, deeming them unworthy.
His atrocities spread to several galactic sectors when the bounty on his head became known.
No few hunters and mercenaries died trying to at least kill him—fifteen thousand credits don't lie on the road.
For some reason, the New Republic did not send their favorite and hyped Jedi—Luke Skywalker—after him, preferring to use minor bounty hunters.
As a result, none succeeded, and the terror born by Kerr spread and multiplied.
It was precisely to hunt mad Jedi that Ventress sought her old lightsabers.
Completing a few jobs, she could amass a tidy sum and go to ground.
Just think—how ironic that she finally met the one for whose head she had emerged from the shadows.
And fallen into the vortex of Grand Admiral Thrawn's intrigues.
Unfortunately, when she gained any authority in the Dominion, Kerr's trail went cold.
It was assumed someone had killed him—like most on General Kraken's wanted lists.
Turns out not.
According to information gathered by Republicans on this man, he was indeed in the Jedi Order before that meant a target on your back and a pursuing Dark Lord of the Sith in stylish black armor on your heels.
It was assumed Darth Vader had tracked him but found he had fallen to the Dark Side.
"Interesting why you don't serve the Empire, little traitor," Ventress continued mocking. "Weren't you recruited into the Inquisitors, fallen Jedi?"
She already understood this man was not worth her special attention—fighting him would be a waste of time.
Far more effective to provoke him, learn information, then bring to a boil and kill.
"I serve the Emperor!" he declared proudly. "I'm no mere cleaner like those Agro Corps failures turned Inquisitors! I'm above all those losers!"
"Yes, only you're on errands for the Zann Consortium," thought Ventress, noting the tense in which Kerr spoke of Palpatine.
"Until he was killed," she continued playing on his nerves. "Now you're no use to anyone, little fool."
"You're wrong," the fallen Jedi bared his teeth. "I sensed changes in the Dark Side of the Force several years ago. I know my lord has returned to life—and I am again the conduit of his will."
Ventress's smile slowly slid off her face.
Here we go.
Palpatine's former toy knows he's alive?
And now claims to serve his will?
This unplanned conversation with the fallen Jedi was getting more and more interesting.
"And how can you serve a corpse, fool?" she inquired. "Even the Dark Side of the Force cannot save from death."
"Foolish acolyte," Danaan Kerr snorted. "Palpatine is alive! I feel it because I am stronger than you! That's why I lured you away from my master—so he could continue our great mission. And you, naive fool, chased me to meet your death!"
He attacked, and not without success.
Asajj, expecting a straightforward attack, was unprepared for the hatch she had blasted to strike her legs, robbing her of balance.
Hitting the back of her head on metal, the Dominion general barely managed to cross her sabers to block Kerr's overhead strike.
The man, despite his frail build, proved quite strong and now tried to crush her with brute physical force.
"You thought you were playing with me," he reeked of decay, madness splashing in his eyes. "But I was playing with you. While you wheedled information from me, I poked around in your head."
"Don't flatter yourself..."
"Do you think Palpatine would take under his wing one who couldn't easily learn enemies' most important secrets straight from their heads?" he laughed. "No, sweetie. My telepathy abilities are an order greater than most living Jedi..."
"And you talk too much!"
Ventress drew both legs to her chest and kicked the opponent, hurling him several meters.
Performing a back somersault, she met his counterstrike with her blades, deflected his weapon aside, and with relish plunged her second lightsaber into his chest.
But instead of dying, her opponent burst into laughter.
"Idiot!" he triumphed with madness in his eyes. "I can absorb energy! I feel no pain—I control it!"
"Control this!"
Asajj charged him with a Force Push, but the opponent did not fly to the wall.
Instead, he slid on his feet a couple meters, continuing to smile maniacally.
"I can dissipate the Force too," he admitted smugly. "Oh, how much I'll tell my lord when I destroy you..."
But instead of the expected attack, he retreated as Ventress slowly advanced.
"Jokes are over, under-Sith," Asajj warned, discarding the desire to play with the victim.
"Unlike you, I'm not done playing," he declared, continuing to back away from her approach.
Ventress noticed his gaze beginning to unfocus, which could mean only one thing.
He was preparing to use the Force in large volumes.
She had seen this before—when dark acolytes, Count Dooku's servants, connected with their lord through the Force.
More precisely—tried.
Most were just weaklings, and telepathic connection was clearly not their forte.
Not many options for whom this errand-Jedi could say a word to.
Palpatine came to mind first.
And Ventress could not allow that.
Establishing mental contact for a Force-sensitive requires a little time.
Of course, if one is powerful in the Force.
Like Palpatine himself or Anakin Skywalker.
But Kerr was clearly weaker than most Jedi she had fought.
And even his natural telepathy did not allow simultaneous physical and mental work.
Using the Force requires concentration.
And that was exactly what Ventress intended to disrupt now.
With quick steps, she crossed the room, focusing her power.
It burst forth in a hurricane of electricity, blue-violet lightning bolts enveloping the unfortunate victim's flesh.
The acolyte's body danced in agony convulsions until his smoking body finally collapsed to the floor.
"Why didn't you absorb my Force Lightning?" Ventress mocked the man.
She knew from experience that Dark Side adepts are easily provoked into attack if their plans are interrupted.
So it happened—Danaan Kerr rushed at her with lightsaber raised.
But this was no longer the opponent she had fought seconds ago.
His concentration disrupted, and summoning the Force as ally would take time.
Now he could rely only on his physical fighter qualities.
And those, after a good roasting with Force Lightning—from which he had neither blocked with his lightsaber nor dissipated with the Force—were, to put it mildly, not at peak.
His movements were slow, but Asajj did not hurry to end the duel with Kerr, though she could take his life in the first seconds.
Capturing such an opponent was dangerous—he could at any moment establish contact with Palpatine or his unidentified master and reveal more than necessary.
Disarm and stuff with ysalamiri—also unlikely without giving him a chance to transmit information.
He was dangerous by his very existence.
The mere fact that his master could potentially serve Palpatine brought the Dominion to a situation where they had interfered in some plans of the untimely resurrected Emperor.
Unlikely Kerr was sent to the Corporate Sector just to silently observe Tyber Zann subjugating one of the galaxy's most economically developed regions.
There must be some plan.
There had to be.
And it needed to be learned.
"How do you feel on the brink of defeat?" inquired Ventress, leaving burned traces of deep wounds on the opponent's left forearm with blade motions.
"You will all die!" hissed Danaan Kerr, retreating several steps from her. "Your turn will come. As soon as the criminals slaughter each other and clear the galaxy for my lord!"
Oh, so that's it!
Exhausted, drained to the bottom, he began accumulating the Force in himself, not trying to mask his intentions.
Asajj rushed forward, intending to finish him if not with blade strikes, then with the hatch lying on the floor.
Kerr sliced the metal into pieces, hurling them aside.
Asajj jumped, intending to strike from above and into her opponent's chest with both sabers.
Kerr anticipated her.
The stream of Force Lightning he unleashed on her bore no comparison to what she had experienced in the past.
This man was strong enough.
But no match for Dooku.
And he could and knew how to turn her life into pain.
Ventress caught the electricity streams with the lightsaber intended to pierce the opponent's chest and felt herself being pushed back.
Danaan was clearly just buying time.
His gaze began fogging again.
With a Force Push, Asajj hurled herself to the floor, exiting the fallen Jedi's Lightning attack.
Landing, she was beside her rival.
Just a couple meters from him.
Both blades went upward...
Kerr, interrupting his concentration, raised his weapon to parry one of her sabers, channeling the Force to absorb the energy of her second blade...
Everything went as he planned.
Except that Asajj intended to force him to expose his chest and face.
Which she struck with particular pleasure with her head.
The crack of a broken nose bone sounded, and the opponent was completely disoriented.
His weapon immediately flew aside—along with the hand gripping the extinguished lightsaber hilt.
With the next strike, Asajj severed the opponent's head from his torso, sending them flying at enormous speeds with Force pushes.
With a deafening crack of breaking bones and squelch of body fluids, what remained of Danaan Kerr was smeared across the bulkhead of the mangled Lucrehulk compartment.
Exhausted, Ventress collapsed to her knees, clutching deactivated lightsabers.
The woman turned to the Force, extending her attention to the surrounding space.
If she had not made it, if Kerr had still connected with someone, established mental contact, she would detect residual phenomena...
Nothing.
The Force was calm, and she detected no one's attention to this section of galactic space, easily perceptible even at distance by those connected to the Force.
She had succeeded.
Danaan Kerr died without managing to tell anyone anything he could have.
The woman sat like that for several minutes, trying to quell the raging flame of the Dark Side within her.
Long-forgotten joy from killing an opponent with particular cruelty spread pleasantly through her body, stirring her hunting instincts and demanding continuation of bloodshed.
Ventress crushed this feeling with willpower.
Years had passed.
She was no longer a mad beast-killer on Dooku's or Palpatine's leash.
Her life, her emotions, and her thirst to kill belonged only to her.
No one else.
She, not the Dark Side, would decide who and when dies.
Only that way.
Finding strength to rise, Ventress invigorated herself with the Force.
"Peace is a lie," she muttered under her breath, striding back through corridors to the landing deck.
She stood by her wrecked fighter, pondering whether anything was true—the Sith Code or the Jedi Code.
There the considerably thinned naval special forces team found her.
***
"The opponent in the Bosf sector is completely destroyed," reported Counter-Admiral Shohashi's hologram. "As ordered—the operation commander 'managed to escape us.' Counterintelligence is now working with captured prisoners. All obtained data will be transmitted to you and Colonel Astarion's department."
"I assume you have trophies too?" I inquired.
"Five Venator-class Star Destroyers, a similar number of first-modification Acclamators, two Lucrehulks, and a dozen Imperial-modified Dreadnaught heavy cruisers," Shohashi continued. "Also six ships of this Rendili design."
In other words—slow, without hangars, and with huge crew requirements.
Fine, they will join the queue for modernization like other Dominion trophy starships.
"Acknowledged, Counter-Admiral," I replied. "Excellent work. You know what to do next."
"Yes, sir," saluting, Shohashi dissolved.
Leaving me alone with Asajj Ventress's hologram, awaiting her turn.
"You wished to speak with me privately from the Counter-Admiral, General," I reminded. "Do you have something to add?"
"Yes," Ventress said hoarsely.
It took her five minutes to recount her story—from the unplanned plan adjustment to destroying the fallen Jedi Danaan Kerr.
"Are these your verbatim quotes?" I inquired.
"Yes, Grand Admiral," Ventress nodded. "When he spoke, I felt he believed it. This is not disinformation. This is a madman's triumph, confident in victory. I did everything to destroy him and prevent any possibility of Force connection with anyone."
"Commendable," I said. "And at the same time, you understand that unilaterally changing the initial plan without coordinating with Shohashi is unacceptable? You are his subordinate. Not vice versa."
"My plan gave us understanding that Palpatine has his people in the Corporate Sector," Ventress bared her teeth. "Possibly—even in the Zann Consortium."
"Such probability was allowed," I agreed, considerably puzzling the Dathomirian witch. "We have long heard nothing of Palpatine's agents, while in the past they did not particularly hide. From your late opponent's words, certain conclusions can be drawn."
"That Palpatine is monitoring crime development in his backyard?" the Dathomirian suggested.
"That Palpatine, pushing Imperial Remnants to weaken the New Republic, could not fail to understand his forces might clash with organized crime. And that he would not overlook even neutral systems. I suspect his agents continue their work—but now in galactic territories that previously supplied the Empire with money. War is quite costly. And power and influence—what must not be lost, or they will have to be reconquered in the future. Your actions helped confirm my hypothesis. Therefore, no sanctions will be applied to you for disobeying orders. In the future, please remember—not always can your actions contrary to the approved plan benefit the common cause. Inform Shohashi of what you intend contrary to orders. Next time I may not be so merciful. Understood?"
"Quite," Ventress said dryly. "May I hope that when the time comes, I will be allowed to join the strike group to eliminate Palpatine?"
"For that there is the Shadow Guard, which you refused to join," I reminded. "Or has your decision changed?"
"No," Ventress replied quickly. "Just refreshed my memory, recalling that Dooku intended to kill me on Sidious's orders. Wouldn't want to leave that attempt unanswered."
"I will remember your wish," a crooked smile flashed on the Dathomirian witch's hologram face. "But I do not promise it will be fulfilled. On the other hand, you can discuss with Counter-Admiral Shohashi. He is practically a specialist in negotiating with me on coordinating and fulfilling his wishes."
"The Butcher?" Ventress genuinely surprised. "Knows how to negotiate? Are we talking about the same person, Grand Admiral?"
"The same," I confirmed. "I think you, like no one else, should understand what 'multifaceted sentient' means. Counter-Admiral Shohashi can still surprise you if you stop thinking of him as a hollow-headed military obsessed with order execution."
A snort came from Ventress.
"I heard you, Grand Admiral," she said seriously. "End transmission."
When this hologram faded too, I leaned back in my chair.
"Hard to be a matchmaker," involuntarily escaped my lips.
The moment of relaxation ended, and time to return to work.
One duel added quite a bit of food for thought.
Embedding an agent in the Corporate Sector—quite logical.
And unusual, because I calculated that Palpatine was insane and paid no attention to galactic events if they contradicted his personal ambitions and goals.
Turns out otherwise.
The ongoing should be considered.
Likely embedding occurred not from one side.
An oversight.
The plan will need adjustment.
Not too drastically, but another total cleanup is postponed.
Not canceled—that would be fundamentally wrong.
Merely shifted "right" in timeline.
Well, war plans are valid only until the first battle.
I have time and capabilities to control changes for the better.
Playing dead has quite a few advantages, actually.