The cantina was empty... As soon as I entered, I was met with the sight of a trashed cantina. Apparently, most of the damage was caused by heavy weapons. Shards of bottles and dishes were visible everywhere. The bar counter was, surprisingly, intact. Well, he certainly made a mess here... I scanned the room, finding the only intact spot. A table where Sheygen himself sat and drank from a bottle, straight from the neck. He was served by two Twi'lek waitresses, judging by the auras I scanned, twin sisters. And he had a keen eye, there was something to look at on the girls. Slender, fit bodies, high breasts. His glaive stood, stuck right into the floor. He had cut through concrete, probably using the Force.
"Who's there?" Sheygen asked, looking up at me. "Oh... I finally managed to get drunk."
"Sir, you," one of the girls approached, but I bypassed her, placing my hand on her shoulder.
"It's alright, beautiful. He's an old acquaintance of mine and I'd like to talk to him, rest assured, we're not going to," I scanned the cantina, "trash this place any further."
Directing the Force into the girl with the intention of calming her, I sat down at the table right in front of Sheygen.
"You look terrible," I noted.
"Either I'm an idiot and finally drunk, or you're really Light Flaingstar," Sheygen sighed, exuding such a powerful stench that if I hadn't trained to resist alcohol using the Matukai method, I would have been drunk already. "No," he raised his hand and touched my clothes, "you're not a dream after all."
"Not a dream," I agreed, "I see you're spending your time productively," I scanned the cantina, "though I certainly approve of some of your pastimes," I looked at the sisters who stood nearby.
"You bet," Sheygen chuckled, "but approval is all you can do, right? Your Alderaanian beauty won't approve..."
"Who knows, we're technically separated," I interrupted him. He pushed a bottle of alcohol towards me.
"You, remember, were looking for this? "Tustran Wind," your favorite liqueur," he said.
"Who would have known that my favorite drink wouldn't be in the Core Worlds, but in this dive. The will of the Force is an interesting phenomenon."
"You know, I tried it. I never liked sweet alcohol."
"Everyone has their weaknesses," I nodded.
"Well, you didn't come just for nothing, did you?" Sheygen downed another bottle of Corellian whiskey. I glanced at the waitresses. They reacted indifferently to the last fact with alcohol. Apparently, they were used to it. "Came to mock me?"
"Why would I?" I asked him, taking a sip of my drink. Mmm... Divine.
"And the Council of Pathfinding Masters did just that," Sheygen snorted. ""We grant you the rank of warrior, but the investigation of Theodore must cease." BASTARDS!" he roared, hitting the table with his fist. Immediately, his cheeks touched the waitresses' hands. The warm and soft palms of two beautiful women calmed him.
"I lost my own mentor in a similar way," I sighed. The face of Lorm Decer appeared before my eyes. "So I don't see why there's anything to mock here?"
"And what? You came to tell me that you understand my pain?" Sheygen asked sarcastically.
"I understand, but that's not the goal, honestly, Sheygen. You're a big boy, you'll figure out what to do with your pain yourself. I've simply outgrown it. I only remember the lesson. You can go crazy and start hacking everyone left and right, or try to drown yourself in alcohol and women. I can only accuse you of the first case and I'll bury you immediately," I placed my lightsaber on the table, "however, I came to offer you a way to bring him to justice."
"Revenge? And you'll participate in this?" I nodded. "Is revenge a path for a Jedi?" Sheygen asked with a smirk.
"This is not revenge. It is justice," I said. "When I killed the Witch of Dathomir, because of whom my mentor died, I was not seeking revenge. I was delivering justice for the crimes she committed. What's the difference? Revenge is uncontrolled. But justice is cold-blooded."
"Hahahaha," he laughed. "Cold-blooded? Me and cold-blooded," he leaned on his hands, placing his elbows on the table, "a funny joke. What justice? What righteousness?" His face contorted with anger. "I want to kill that creature! And everyone he cares about! But... I remember what he did to us. Of the three of us, only you and my mentor managed to achieve something. And even that is questionable. I don't have a fraction of a chance... So, I'll choose one of the two options."
"Well," I poured myself a second shot, "you don't necessarily have to face him in combat yourself. I understand that you clearly want revenge, but the years of training drilled into you definitely tell you not to go after him. However, I know how to get revenge on him. Even for someone like you."
Sheygen leaned back in his chair.
"You know?" he asked.
"Yes, I managed to figure out who he is. And most importantly, what his weakness is. We are his weakness. Or rather, our actions on the planet Tsai. That explosion that happened after I was buried alive."
"That was the Tyrannical Sacrifice technique. Tyrant's techniques are techniques we got from one of the Founder's sons. One of them instantly increases all of Matukai's parameters. Strength, agility, physical strength, endurance, body durability... But all of this has a backlash in the form of internal damage to bones and muscles. Imagine: what kind of strength would you achieve after five years of hard training. That's the strength that technique takes... However, the price for its use is too exorbitant. If you lose yourself, you might even be able to bury one of your Masters, but you'll lie down with him in the next moment. The second Tyrant technique is called Tyrannical Self-Sacrifice. It instantly gathers the Force energy within the user's body, using the spirit as fuel... And then explodes..."
"Complete destruction of the body?" Sheygen nodded. "In addition, the soul as fuel? That's a one-way ticket. Neither merging with the Force, nor falling into the abyss. It's the end of everything."
"Correct," Sheygen grabbed the bottle of Wookiee tincture and immediately emptied it. "The end. Mentor Theodore sacrificed himself so that you and I could survive."
"And so that we could bring that Sith to justice," I said. "Or do you think his sacrifice was only so that you could grope two Twi'leks on Ryloth?"
"Hmph. What do you know about him?" Sheygen snorted. "Master Theodore always wanted the best for me."
"And what is best for you, Sheygen?" I smiled, drinking my second shot. "Is it to crawl into a kennel like a beaten dog and whine quietly while licking your wounds? I remember you differently. A warrior, a Matukai, a proud sentient being. And now you've just crawled into a kennel. You say you want revenge, not justice? Yet you sit here, getting drunk and seducing two Twi'leks. I don't know if Theodore would have wanted you to become a Matukai and put your life in danger, or if he would have wanted you to find a peaceful life far from all the galactic hustle and bustle. I don't know. However, you know what I see?"
"Enlighten me," he leaned slightly.
"You yourself don't know what you want. That's all. That fight broke you," I stated. "Everything you believed in, everything you clung to, suddenly shattered into pieces like broken glass. And now you don't understand, you're torn between simple revenge and the desire to crawl into a kennel like a beaten dog."
"Kkh..." he grimaced. "And you think that if I go with you, I'll find myself again?"
"I can't give you guarantees. And I won't force you. You can finally reach your limit of alcohol resistance here, hide somewhere in a remote corner of the galaxy, or find the courage to restore your pride and honor. But I feel that coercion will lead to nothing good. So decide for yourself," I grabbed the bottle of liqueur, which still had a good half of the alcohol left.
"Umm," one of the Twi'leks tried to stop me.
"Here's my payment to you," I said, disabling their slave collars through ionization. "I'll talk to your master."
Leaving the cantina, I ran into the Toydarian.
"Well?" the insectoid asked.
"We'll see now," I said, glancing at the exit. Sheygen himself emerged from it. He drank so much, yet there was no hint of alcohol in his eyes.
"Light," he said, returning the glaive to his back. "I've decided. I want to bring that scumbag to justice. Where do I sign?"
"You don't need to sign anywhere, Sheygen, just come to my ship. We'll plan our actions."
"Gela, Rola, follow me," Sheygen waved.
"Gela? Rola?" the Toydarian asked.
"Yes," I nodded. "That's my payment, esteemed Zello, for saving your cantina from further destruction. But the girls value Sheygen more, so let them go with him."
"But what's the point?" he asked angrily. "You took two waitresses from me! I have no more waiters, the slaves scattered!"
"That's because the former owner is a miser," one of the girls blurted out.
"You should reconsider your business model, Zello," I said coldly, "the Jedi Order does not approve of slavery, even among those who traditionally practice it. Although the latter to a lesser extent. Farewell. Sheygen is grateful to you for the payment."
"But..."
"We were talking about a reward. There was no mention of what form the one who fulfills your request would take it. I've done my job – Sheygen is no longer trashing your cantina."
"Listen, enough," the Matukai intervened. "If you don't understand," he approached and stood opposite the insectoid, "I'll just cut off your wings."
The Toydarian flew higher.
"You can't do that, don't interrupt my negotiations," I blocked the Matukai, standing between him and Zello. "Listen, it's all logical, isn't it?"
"Bastard, I did say I'd give a reward for getting him out of there. But do Jedi accept such relationships?"
"And do Gela and Rola belong to me?" I asked slyly. "They're going with Sheygen."
"Bastard..."
"Your insult wounds me deeply, esteemed..."
"You don't have one," he spat maliciously and disappeared into the cantina.
"If I don't have one, then how am I breathing?" I asked aloud.
"He meant figuratively, not literally," the Matukai remarked.
"Oh, really?" I smirked. "Let's go to the ship. There's enough room for everyone, including our guests."
***
At the Star Path, a group of Mandalorians was already waiting for me. Jacob sat with his legs crossed, not far from where the ramp descended. Vanda paced nearby, gesturing animatedly. Hori and Bombur stood aside, chatting with some Rodian sentient. The man was thin, lanky, with a greenish skin tone. He had two holsters with blasters on his belt. He was dressed in dirty brown pants and a shirt and jacket of the same color. Considering Ryloth's geography, he was dressed to reduce his visibility. He was, apparently, a seasoned sentient; as soon as we appeared, he glanced at me, then at Sheygen, and lingered for a fraction of a second on Gela and Rola. The girls flinched, but moved aside at Sheygen's wave. They'd better not get involved in what's coming.
"Good day," Jacob stood up and immediately walked towards me. He extended his hand, and I shook it. "Long time no see, Padawan. Glad to see you alive and well."
"I am now a Knight," I replied calmly to the Mandalorian. "And I see you haven't been wasting time either," their armor had such familiar inserts of krayt dragon scales.
"It would be foolish to expect otherwise," Hori remarked. "Oh, yes, allow me to introduce you. Logun Irean," he introduced the man, who bowed slightly.
"Is this the Jedi?" he asked Hori.
"Good day, my name is Light. How much did you tell him?" I asked, looking at Hori.
"The bare minimum, Light," Logun replied. "We were told you have a job. Need to blow up some complex, maybe even with ship turbolasers. And then invade the wreckage and clear out what's left."
I sighed and sent a signal to the ship. It lowered its ramp.
"Let's go inside and I'll tell you everything," I said, "why I need Mandalorians and you, esteemed Logun. And, accordingly, your team."
"One minute, the team will be here soon," the man said, raising his left hand to his faceted eyes. Five minutes later, my ship became a bit cramped. It's not designed for so many sentient beings. Logun's team consisted of about forty sentient beings. But only seven could enter the ship, plus all the Mandalorians and Sheygen. It was noisy at the holoprojector, and I eyed them with some apprehension until Jacob approached me. Logun's team was dressed in clothes of varying degrees of wear, but all were armed.
"Don't wait for them to calm down. When you speak to someone, don't wait for anyone, but immediately capture their attention, because you are the leader on this mission?" the man asked me. "Go ahead," he stepped away, and I sighed heavily. This is not like giving a presentation at a blackboard.
"Attention," I said loudly, infusing my voice with the Force and calming those present. Withstanding their crossed gazes, I activated the holoprojector, displaying a recorded Sith on the screen, or rather, Set Hart, whom I photographed on planet Tsai. Sheygen's face contorted with anger, while everyone else looked with curiosity at the cloaked figure with a lightsaber in his right hand. "Allow me to introduce you by proxy. This is Set Hart," I said, "a sentient being, not inferior in power to a Sith Lord. And this is him almost a thousand years ago, after the Seventh Battle of Ruusan," I showed his younger version.
"A thousand years?" Logun asked in surprise. "What enemies you have, boy."
"Enemies for whom I will pay well for challenging them," I sized up Logun. "And if we can also win, the Jedi will pay you so much that your grandchildren will have enough."
"But for that, we must first win," Vanda remarked.
"Correct. The one you saw first is a clone. Almost a thousand years ago, Set Hart, still a Padawan of the Jedi Order, found the holocron of the Sith Darth Andeddu, who was close to unraveling the secrets of eternal life. He learned to transfer his spirit into other vessels when he died. That's a simplification."
"So, our enemy is a thousand-year-old Jedi who learned to escape his body, regardless of his low chances of survival?" Logun asked. "What have you dragged me into, Jacob? A Jedi! Who can avoid death, no matter how low his chances of survival!"
"And a million credits to you," I looked at the man. "Plus, everything Set Hart has accumulated over almost a thousand years of his life: ships, resources, relics – as trophies. Some part will have to be given to my Order. However, I'm sure they will offer you money for everything they ask for. In addition, according to my plan, you are not supposed to challenge him."
"Then, perhaps we should listen to your plan?" Vanda asked. "So far, you've only presented us with problems."
"The plan can be called simple. We divide into three parts," I switched the holoprojector to a diagram of Set Hart's mansion on Royce. "The first is me. I will openly attack Set Hart, distracting him. I will make it so that half the galaxy learns he is a Sith in thirty seconds of combat, and in a minute, even in the Unknown Regions, they will know about it. For almost a thousand years, he has been hiding from the galaxy, under his own name. I dug up old cases, studied them. Jedi Shadows and Guardians were sent to him to find out if he was that Set Hart. Many returned with nothing. His lineage, supposedly, originated from Set Hart, who was a Jedi, but where Set himself disappeared, the Jedi were supposedly never informed."
"And how did he fool them?" Hori asked. "Fooling you is extremely difficult," say that to Palpatine and all the Bynites to their faces if you're a man.
"I suppose it's due to the chaos of the post-Ruusan Reformation," I said. "Back then, they weren't concerned with him. And when they were, the only one named Set Hart didn't fit the age and parameters, as he was officially not Force-sensitive. Since then, he has been a wealthy aristocrat of Royce. And anticipating your question, Hori – why he appeared in the galaxy now. I suppose it's related to the Matukai," I shifted my gaze to Sheygen. "Jedi archaeologists recently discovered many places associated with them. Someone from the Order has been working for Set from the very beginning. And reported it to him."
"Are the Matukai's knowledge really that valuable?" Logun asked, looking at Sheygen.
"Hmph," Sheygen snorted.
"One way or another, Set Hart emerged and became very active. For almost a thousand years, he has built connections, become strong, confident, and accumulated enough resources. But he was quickly exposed. Either he didn't intend to actively hide, or the Jedi working for him made mistakes, or he completely forgot how to operate. But he attracted the attention of the Matukai and the Jedi. His main trump card is the knowledge from Darth Andeddu's holocron," I said, "but that is also his main weakness."
"Explain," Logun tilted his head to the side. "Please," he added when I met his eyes.
"Clones," I replied. "You think only Andeddu experimented with them? Tens of thousands of years, various races and tribes of Force-sensitives have tried to answer questions about the limits of our capabilities and the limits of the Force. Vitiate, Hord, Revan, Arca Jeth, Exar Kun, Ulic Qel-Droma, Darth Marr, Satele Shan, and even Cai Lin of the Matukai Order. Many Jedi, Matukai, Sith, and not only them—have comprehended the limits of the Force, pushed its boundaries, discovered new abilities for survival. Many Sith, long after Andeddu, tried to discover the same thing he did. And clones, naturally, tried. They were created with different methodologies, in different ways. But there was a problem. And this problem is especially acute when transferring consciousness. It consists of rejection. The body of every Force-sensitive is unique and inimitable. From a genetic point of view, you can make a clone of me, but it won't be me. He would be non-Force-sensitive, yes, perfectly similar, but never me. Literally, recreating a Force-sensitive artificially is impossible. The same applies to transferring into other bodies. An unprepared body can begin to decay. Clones, even considering they are perfect replicas of Hart—have the same defects. They are not durable. And they are not capable of withstanding the Force of a Force-sensitive, especially one like him. I don't know what specifically accounts for this peculiarity of each Force-sensitive. And neither you nor I are at a lecture on the study of the Force. We are at a briefing. Before death—the mentor of Sheydjen, whom Sheydjen and I encountered with Set Hart—used a technique, dangerously wounding the enemy. And considering what I saw as a consequence of that technique, Set Hart will be forced to change his body. He defeated me and two Matukai—almost without a fight, while at his peak. But now—we will face not a fully-fledged, peak Sith Lord, but at best—a too-strong Dark Jedi. Eliminating such individuals is my duty."
"That sounds realistic," Jacob noted.
"I wish the promised reward sounded realistic," Logun said quietly. "However—why can't you call the Jedi for help? Is it related to a traitor within your Order?"
"That's right," I nodded. "And, forgive me, but I will not disclose anything about him. It is enough for you to know who we will fight…"
"But do you have proof that Set Hart wants to change bodies?" Bombur suddenly asked. "What if you, following your plan to lure Hart out, encounter not a teenager who just changed bodies—how old should he be when changing bodies?"
"Fifteen, well, the body," I replied.
"Exactly. What if you encounter the one who smeared you, you and the two Matukai—against the wall?" Sheydjen, standing not far from Bombur, clenched his fists. Everyone turned their gaze to me.
"The HoloNet is quite a cesspool," I replied. "But what gets into it—never disappears," I clicked on the datapad and brought up the news on the projector. "Presentation of the heir of House Hart. The newly-minted Set XXXI Hart," I smirked. "The fifteen-year-old heir will be presented next week. Guests include—the Chosen Monarch Reissa-VIII, His Majesty Raish Raik, the aristocracy, and… the Army, of course. However, there is a law according to which—a Jedi can attack a Sith if they can publicly prove he is a Sith. And I will broadcast it throughout the galaxy. Including my Order. This will not only justify us but also spoil Set's plans if he somehow escapes or defeats me."
"Understood, but I still don't want to get involved in this," Logun said. "Your plan is not bad. The reward—is beyond praise. My two IR-3°F ships can destroy ground structures on his estate, and their boarding teams can attack the underground levels. But… Suppose you defeat him, what then? His soul… Or whatever he has? It will slip away and transfer to a new clone, escape, and start seeking revenge. I'm not crazy enough to have such problems."
"That's why our second part consists of respected Mandalorians," I nodded towards the Mandalorians, "your assault team, and Sheydjen," I indicated the Matukai with a nod of my head. "Sheydjen is Force-sensitive and will sense anything that could be a threat. He will help you destroy the clones that Set might have gathered. The amount you are ready to present for the assault, Jacob Jarps' group," Sheydjen glanced at the Mandalorian in surprise, "and my friend, Sheydjen—will be enough, while I fight Hart—to destroy even his indirect escape routes. If he sees no alternative, if you succeed, he will try to seize my body. A Sith tried to seize it once before. And I know how to resist."
"And if we lose," Logun said sarcastically, "then to hell with it, with losing, right? Because you'll expose Set Hart to the entire galaxy and a hunt will begin for him, right, Jedi? That's so typical—you don't even consider the possibility that you might die."
"I do," I replied coldly. "But if you, respected Logun, are so afraid of challenges and death—then why did you choose this profession? The profession of a mercenary? What are you paid for if you accept a job? For complaints?" I felt a cold fury towards the Rodian. "Questions? Distrust? If you're so afraid of dying—you can always sell your ships and build a toy factory somewhere. Start churning out model ships and selling them to boys who dream of space. I know your race are hunters. Sound rationalism contributes to survival. And if it tells you—to leave here—leave, I'd rather spend time finding someone who won't leave than trying to convince you. If you want to criticize my plan—criticize it. If you want to join the attackers according to my plan—agree. Nothing else is provided, Captain Logun Irean," I said coldly.
His officers looked at their captain.
"To hell with it, Jedi. I agree," the Rodian said.
"Then," I handed him an infochip. "Here's everything: the coordinates of Hart's palace on Royss, and the rendezvous time. All that's left is to decide what to do about the planet's air defense. They can react quite quickly."
"There isn't much security on that planet," Jacob said. "I looked around while you were rambling—they have about twenty-four fighters suitable for planetary defense. They're not particularly wealthy, but they can cause problems."
"Problems are not solved by violence alone," the Rodian said. "Garreton," a hunched man approached him. "You'll talk to their chief?"
"It will be done, Captain," the man said with a disgusting tone.
"And what will he do?" I asked, devilishly. I thought a swift attack would exclude fighters from Reissa's side, but now I see the probability of their attack is quite high. We need to minimize damage. And that's not counting the army."
"He'll do what will help their chief choose a better place to live," the Rodian said. "We could attack their headquarters first. But—that would have unpleasant consequences. This way, we can ask their chief to show some… slowness, which will give us time to destroy the ground structures of Hart's estate, land the assault force, and not be severely wounded by fighter fire."
"My ship, by the way, with a droid at the helm—can help you, Logun. It has seismic charges…"
"Just ask your droid not to use those things near my ship!" Logun said sharply.
"As you wish."
"So," Jacob summarized, "let's sum up. Light—attacks Set Hart during the inheritance ceremony, right at the reception, drawing the attention of 'the entire galaxy' to the problem of the existence of Sith, while Captain Logun—attacks the mansion, destroying ground objects. Perhaps it's better to play it safe?" he asked. "We have personal fighters, and while you finish striking the mansion, Logun, we'll cover you. And then, you can switch the second ship to guard against fighters."
"We'll do that," the Rodian confirmed.
"And after that, we: Logun's boarding team, Sheydjen the Matukai, and my team—descend and clear the underground floors and everything that the turbolaser fire didn't reach," Jacob finished.
"And take this infochip," I levitated it into Jacob's hands, "here's the schematic of the lower floors."
"How did you get them?" Vanda asked.
"I… Met a woman… And we had a nice chat over… a portion of alcohol…"
"You're too young for that?" she asked sharply.
"She didn't complain," I smirked, "she even felt very good. Better than anyone else," I looked into Vanda's visor.
Vanda snorted, and from the Rodian came the phrase:
"You're a funny boy," he said. "Survive this fight."
"I also wish you all good luck in the coming wars. Rendezvous in a week, during the heir's presentation. Don't be late…"