Watching Atroxa’s Fury slowly descend onto the landing field in front of the base’s main hangar, Malgus noted with a professional eye the interceptor’s numerous damages.
Several sections of the hull were torn out completely, one of the engines was running unevenly, and the cloaking mesh had patches visible to the naked eye… The Sith thought with displeasure that only untrained barbarians would use such an elegant ship as the Fury in open combat.
And judging by everything, that’s exactly what had happened.
“I deprived Anomid scientists of sleep and food by the hundreds to build these ships,” he said aloud.
The Togruta standing nearby wisely remained silent.
“And this Jedi and his Twi’leks turned one of the last three Furies into junk in a couple of months…” The welcoming committee consisted only of the Sith and the former Togruta Jedi.
The rest of the base personnel, which still barely numbered a hundred people, were on continuous duty at the base, on foot or space patrols.
And wasn’t it too much of an honor?
Convening a welcoming committee just for servants like themselves?
Ashara stood silently, watching the two Twi’leks descend the ramp.
Tired of the organizational routine, she looked noticeably bored.
“We expected you to arrive earlier,” the girl remarked as soon as the newcomers approached.
“Nadia and Kira left as soon as they got your message.” “Don’t tell me you expect us to report to you on how we spent our time?” the Lethan said contemptuously.
The red-skinned woman demonstratively tossed the hilt of her lightsaber in her hand.
Her entire behavior, her posture, exuded superiority over her interlocutor.
As if being a doormat for a Jedi was something important, the Sith thought.
However, the Togruta, Malgus, and Atroxa were united by something in common.
Hunting down Darth Nox like predators, the former commander and the Sith Lady had tracked down each of his companions.
An archaeologist.
A bounty hunter.
Next was a servant droid, who tried to lead the pursuit away from the former Dark Council member.
In the end, the sorcerer was left only with his loyal Dashade, a Kaleesh, and a Togruta.
These three were of interest to the Emperor, but the beast protected its master to the last drop of blood.
The Sith recalled with relish that, fueled by the Emperor’s Dark Side, they had playfully deflected most of Nox’s attacks.
The Councilor had lost both arms, then his legs.
Malgus had almost lost himself, nearly taking the life of the former Lord Kallig, while Atroxa effortlessly disarmed the Kaleesh by severing his hand and knocked Ashara unconscious.
They had broken them both.
Effortlessly, allowing the Emperor to shatter their will, trample it, and rebuild their personalities from scratch.
They begged for death.
But death came only for Nox.
Atroxa had directed the Togruta’s blades… Since then, a certain… let’s say, mutual dislike had arisen between the girls.
A pity only that the Kaleesh had died, sent into the midst of the Brotherhood of Darkness.
Darth Bane, driven by his own plans, never learned of Vitiate’s offer, never voiced by the foolish alien.
Zilek had been too stupid to believe Kaan’s promises… But, on the other hand — they were all just toys in the hands of the Emperor.
And his Apprentice.
Watching the verbal duel between the Togruta and the Lethan, Malgus noted with hidden hope that the latter had not remained in debt, summoning the Force to her.
In her years of service as a Hand, the girl had quickly learned that you should always be the first to start a fight.
“I would be happy to discuss this with you,” Ashara smiled.
“The Emperor’s Apprentice wouldn’t mind if I strangled you with your own intestines, would he?” The red-skinned woman bared her teeth, activating a golden-colored blade.
Zavros responded to her, completing the picture with two more lightsabers, taking her own blades in a ready stance… “Stop it,” Vette intervened, stepping between the girls who were ready to lunge at each other.
“He won’t be happy about this.” “Meddling little whore,” Malgus thought.
“Ruined such fun.” The traitor’s fate should have been sealed back when the former Wrath of the Empire sacrificed his companions to escape the Emperor’s Hands… As Valkorion had promised him, the Sith warrior was killed last.
He had unemotionally sacrificed his former lover — Vette — in a desperate attempt to avoid inevitable retribution.
Needless to say, recruiting the Twi’lek proved easy enough?
And tracking down the warrior’s other companions with her help, exterminating them all except Jaesa Willsaam, became almost a point of honor for the blue-skinned woman.
She had easily killed her former lover and helped break Willsaam’s will.
Valuable acquisitions that had helped implement the Emperor’s plans more than once.
But here, on this base, Malgus was frankly bored.
Odessen turned out to be a most trivial, impossibly boring world.
The notorious balance of the Force, in favor of which Dougan had chosen the planet, only brought a sense of peace, which was abhorrent to a Sith.
The Sith’s blood demanded action, preferably the kind where a battle raged all around… Why the hell had Dougan summoned these two Jedi women?
He was at war!
He needed a commander, a man of action, not these contemplatives.
“Let’s go to the operations center,” Vette said.
“The Master has tasks for us.” “A holotransmission would have been faster,” Malgus said irritably, hoping for at least a verbal exchange.
But the girls simply ignored him, silently heading inside the base.
* * * According to Vette, the atmosphere in the current operations center was exactly the same as the one that had reigned here during the time of the Eternal Alliance.
Gathered around a huge ancient holoprojector, which, incidentally, worked perfectly even four thousand years later, the three Hands watched as the fourth adjusted the equipment.
“And why does she have the message from the Master, not you?” Ashara asked Atroxa.
The Lethan shrugged nonchalantly.
“I don’t rule his thoughts,” she replied.
“Oh, we know what you do rule over there,” the Togruta waved dismissively.
Seeing the lack of understanding on the Lethan’s face, she added.
“We all know how you while away his evenings.” “Less envy, dearie,” Atroxa smiled.
Malgus thought with disgust that the Sith Lady wasn’t bothered by the reputation of an easy woman.
Although, he recalled, she hadn’t been bothered before either.
The entire Imperial Fleet knew how she had secured her appointment to Coruscant.
Sith, Moffs, admirals… who hadn’t been in the arms of this whore.
Disgusting.
While the Sith were scheming and plotting against each other, she was merely spreading her legs for the right individuals at the right time.
Over his years of service to the Emperor, more than once or twice, the Sith had been visited by the thought that he wouldn’t be surprised if he ever learned that she had earned her place among Valkorion’s Hands through a well-known method.
“Who’s jealous?” Ashara snorted with laughter.
“You are jealous,” Atroxa seemed to savor every word.
“Believe me, girl, if you don’t want to die on this piece of rock from old age, surrounded by antiques, swallow your pride.
In the end,” the Lethan rolled her eyes and licked her teeth lasciviously with the tip of her tongue, “it’s worth it.” “Will you stop?” Malgus grumbled.
What was this blue-skinned woman still digging for?
“Easy there, big guy,” Atroxa chuckled.
“You haven’t had a chance since the Empire.” Malgus shook his head warningly.
This woman had always known how to manipulate men.
But not him.
He had overcome his weakness, and carnal pleasures did not move him.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Zavras snorted.
“With your experience…” “Don’t believe me,” the red-skinned beast smiled, “ask Vette.” For a second, the Togruta froze with her mouth open.
Admittedly, Malgus was surprised too.
Not that he was very surprised — after all, Vette, like Atroxa, was a Twi’lek, and promiscuous behavior was in their blood.
But still — unexpected.
“Ah, so that’s where this port is!” came the voice of the blue-skinned smuggler.
The girl emerged from beneath the holoprojector terminal and inserted an information chip into the receiving slot.
“Let’s take a look at our assignments…” The girl’s hands flew over the keyboard.
Atroxa and Zevras were devouring each other with their eyes.
The first — with some triumph.
The other — with distrust and a hint of disgust.
Finally, the Togruta couldn’t take it anymore.
“Vette!” the Jedi called out to the Twi’lek.
“I have a question for you…” * * * While the alien women went off to whisper, Malgus brought up the details of his assignment on the holoprojector screen.
Unlike the Emperor, who set tasks simply, concisely, and unambiguously, issuing orders through the voice of his sycophant Khrat, the mission from Dougan…
was some kind of flight of consciousness.
Words, words, words, historical references, more words…
Nothing concrete.
Just historical references, reflections connected to Revan, his struggle with his own apprentice…
Malgus prepared to close the file to ignore the assignment, but his eyes caught what was written in the last paragraph.
“The Star Forge is not the only station created by the Rakata.
You know what I’m talking about.
Activate the station before my return.” After rereading his own assignment, Malgus felt like he couldn’t get enough air.
Long ago, the race of Dark Side servants — the Rakata — had created a fully automated station that produced droids and ships faster than any shipyards in the universe could.
The “Star Forge.” Revan and Malak — two fallen Jedi, subdued by the Emperor — went in search of it.
If the Empire gained the power of infinite fleet reproduction, it would become invincible and would sweep the Republic away in an instant.
The Sith didn’t know the details, contenting himself only with fragments of rumors.
But over thousands of years of serving the Emperor, he had uncovered this secret too.
Revan and Malak turned against each other.
The Republic supported Revan, corrupting him with the Light Side.
As a result of a powerful battle in the Rakata’s home system — Lehon — the “Forge” was destroyed.
The empire of fallen Jedi that had been created fell.
Revan was in the Emperor’s captivity for three hundred years.
The Jedi freed him and allowed him to carry out his vengeance.
Revan managed to hide from the Emperor — who had spent three hundred years studying his prisoner — that the “Forge” had a younger sister — the “Foundry” station.
Although its resources couldn’t be compared to the “Forge’s” capabilities, in experienced hands the “Foundry” could bring half the galaxy to its knees.
Revan used it to produce battle droids.
As soon as the strike group, on Malgus’s orders, seized the “Foundry” and eliminated Revan, the Sith set his sights on it.
No one, not even the Dark Council, knew that the Emperor’s Wrath, Darth Nox, a bounty hunter, and an intelligence agent had preserved the “Foundry.” Even then, planning his New Empire, Malgus understood what would be at stake.
A trump card like the “Foundry” couldn’t help but play its role.
Malgus sent thousands of scientists to the “Foundry” to unlock its secrets.
As soon as the Emperor was struck down by the Jedi and the Dark Council rushed to tear each other’s throats out, Malgus announced the creation of his New Empire.
The “Foundry,” hidden in a new system behind the Anomid masking fields, awaited its hour.
It didn’t.
The reports sent by the aliens forced Malgus to abandon using the station.
A creation of the Dark Side, the “Foundry” drove most of the scientists mad.
The aliens killed each other by the dozens, just to free themselves from the station’s influence.
Malgus visited it personally.
Once.
As a true servant of the Dark Side, he was amazed by the power of this creation.
The prospects that opened before him nearly made him a slave to the “Foundry.” The temptation to channel its power through himself was so great that only monstrous self-control helped him avoid being subjugated by the station.
He left that place, vowing never to return.
Unable to destroy the ancient structure, he preferred to forget about it and erase all mentions of it.
Now, reading the man’s order — find and activate the station — he again felt a sensation as though the Force itself had frozen in his veins.
Memories flooded over him, bringing only a grim sense of impending catastrophe.
Wrath burned in his veins.
The boy!
The fool!
He’ll ruin them all!
For all of them, the “Foundry” was just a factory.
But only Malgus, and perhaps Revan, had seen the true face of this terrible invention.
It would tear out its creator’s soul, drain his veins, and grind his bones to powder, but it would never stop.
The “Foundry” was absolute evil, so all-encompassing that only the Emperor himself could compete with it.
The station would spare no one.
It would use any sentient as fuel, to serve its own purposes.
Once aboard the station, Malgus had felt its insatiable hunger.
Draining Force and life energy from its inhabitants, the “Foundry” used those who tried to control it.
While sentients received their products from it — weapons, droids — it itself used the sentients.
It clouded their minds, drove them mad, and fed on those who succumbed.
From memory, Malgus could reproduce the report of his scientists, who had opened his eyes to the monster he had been ready to awaken.
“It will never stop executing its program,” he uttered quietly, the words etched into his memory.
“Its mechanisms may sleep for thousands of years, but they will always be ready to work.
The ‘Foundry’ is one big trap for any sentients, gifted or not.
Perhaps that’s why the Rakata abandoned it, sending it to a remote system.
Its purpose and objectives are unclear, but to achieve them, it’s willing to tolerate anyone who can satisfy its hunger for the Force.” Closing his eyes, Malgus experienced true animal fear for perhaps the second time in his life.
The first time — when he stepped aboard the “Foundry.” The second — now, realizing that the man’s order demanded his return.
“Damnation take you!” Malgus slammed his fist hard against the glass surface of the terminal, causing the holographic text to disappear.
Looking around, he saw that the few mercenaries — technicians Hart had hired — had hastened to leave the room, so as not to get in the Sith’s way.
Four thousand years wasted!
The secret he had guarded had come to light.
Where in the Hutt’s name had the boy even learned about this station?
His reflections were interrupted by the well-known, provocative, leisurely clicking of Atroxa’s heels, approaching him unhurriedly.
Spotting the Lethan looking at him with interest, he strode toward her furiously, jabbing his finger into the Jedi’s whore’s chest.
“You!
You will return to him immediately and make him abandon this plan!
The ‘Foundry’ will destroy us all, just as it did its previous masters!
Tell him our lives aren’t worth becoming fuel for that damned death machine…” The girl stood before him and smiled.
But this time, her smile wasn’t flirtation or teasing.
It was a harsh mockery from one in control toward her servant.
A suspicion flashed through the Sith’s mind…
“Why don’t you say that directly?” the girl’s lips moved, but a voice that was completely not hers came from her mouth.
Distorted by the Force, the voice of a man whose consciousness had taken over the Lady Sith’s body — he recognized it almost immediately.
“A Jedi,” Malgus bared his teeth.
He stepped so close that the scent of the Lethan’s perfume reached his nostrils.
Grabbing the girl by the shoulder, Malgus shook the beautiful doll that had become a vessel for her master.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, you…” With a lightning-fast movement, the Lethan’s thin hands seized the Sith’s arm and twisted it at an unnatural angle, causing pain and tearing ligaments.
Howling in pain, Malgus instantly summoned a lightsaber hilt to his hand, but couldn’t use it.
“On your knees,” a voice boomed in his ears, triggering the blind obedience program the Emperor had embedded deep in his subconscious, “before the Dragon of Zakuul!” As soon as the code phrase ended, the Sith crashed to his knees, smashing the armored plates of his kneepads against the grated floor of the base.
A fine tremor began to shake Malgus’s body.
Vitiate, the old sadist, had made sure that after disobeying him just once, the Hands would never feel such a desire again.
The Sith’s nervous system blazed as if voltage from the nearest reactor had been applied to it.
His skin relived the memories of countless cuts and flayings.
Again and again, episodes of bones being broken flashed through the warlord’s memory…
The code phrase had brought to the surface all the pain and suffering that the future Hand had endured day after day for several years, before his will surrendered.
Only the oath of loyalty to a new master had stopped Valkorion’s torture thousands of years ago.
Sith magic, which Malgus had not suspected, had bound him in servitude to a ruthless maniac.
And now the dead man had passed his whip to his apprentice.
“I…” words were spat from his throat along with clots of blood.
Tearing off the respirator, now filled with blood, Malgus tried to clear his damaged airways of blood, realizing he was losing precious time with every second.
His body, receiving no physical injuries, was tormenting itself with the memories of past tortures.
A sophisticated delayed punishment for those Hands who, like Malgus, forgot their place.
The Sith magic that had halted the aging of each of the Hands had broken its chain, destroying the apostate from within.
Malgus knew the price of his salvation.
And he was ready to pay it.
“One day,” he thought, “I’ll tear your limbs from your body and break your spine.” A thought he would live with from now on.
He would get rid of Valkorion’s “gift.” And he would settle accounts with the boy.
“I…
swear…
loyalty…
to your…
kkhak…
teaching…” Blood poured from his throat, nose, ears, and eye sockets in a stream.
“Master…” What was said bore fruit.
With literally two hacks, he managed to clear his throat and gulp fresh air.
His throat, damaged in past battles, treacherously tickled.
Malgus stood on all fours.
Crushed.
Destroyed.
In a puddle of his own blood.
In times past, he wouldn’t have lasted a day — other Sith, sensing his weakness, would have finished him off around the nearest corner.
Atroxa — or rather, his new master — crouched down before him.
His new master lifted the Sith’s face and peered with their pitch-black eye sockets into Malgus’s weakened face.
“There won’t be a second chance,” the Jedi warned through the Lethan’s lips.
“Obey, or die.” With these words, the Lethan’s thin fingers deftly placed the respirator mask onto his face.
Malgus, with relief, inhaled the now-safe air and collapsed onto his back with pleasure.
The tremor in his arms and legs reminded him of the demonstrative humiliation to which the Emperor’s apprentice had subjected him.
The boy had learned a new trick — placing his consciousness into the bodies of his Hands.
A technique the Emperor had used on his secret agents — the Emperor’s Children.
After Vitiate’s death, either on their own or with Jedi or Sith help, all of these “Children” had been found and eliminated.
Except one.
Kira Carsen.
A Jedi who had gone to Dougan.
Only she, or the old maniac himself, could have revealed the technique of this bond to his new true master.
Hutt scum…
Out of the corner of his eye, Malgus saw Vette and Ashara standing in the doorway where they had gone to gossip.
Atroxa pointed at the prostrate, exhausted Malgus.
“When you’re done admiring, help him come to his senses.
And get to work.” * * * In the past, Kira had been one of the Emperor’s Children — a group of individuals who could contain the Emperor’s consciousness, serving as his secret agents.
Nadia Grell, together with her teacher, had fought against the Emperor’s Children.
Both girls had valuable experience that would allow me to coordinate the actions of my Hands anywhere in the galaxy.
For the most part, that’s why I called the girls to Christophsis in person.
Reports were reports, but they were obligated to share their knowledge with me.
I called them to my office toward evening, a day after their arrival.
Postponing Ptar’s request for a meeting, which the base commander had conveyed to me, I ordered Vizla to block access to the floor.
The Mandalorian, with a cynical chuckle, gave the corresponding orders to the clones.
“You called for us, master?” Grell clarified, entering my office first.
In the evening twilight, the shadows falling on the objects in the room caused slight discomfort.
I had deliberately not turned on the lights.
“Come in,” I indicated the sofas to the girls, finishing reading Grell’s report.
I wanted to question the white-skinned girl right now, but…
The girls positioned themselves sideways, each sitting on their own sofa.
“You both dealt with the Emperor’s Children in your time,” I began.
Seeing their darkened faces, I continued.
“I want you to teach me how to maintain contact with you at a distance.” “Only the Emperor could do that!” Kira declared.
“And each of his servants — the Voice, the Children — underwent special training, enhancements…
It’s impossible to contain the Emperor’s consciousness without that.” I could feel that my initiative wasn’t generating any enthusiasm among the girls.
But they were Hands, meant to obey.
“Kira,” I said as calmly as possible.
“My consciousness isn’t even close to the Emperor’s.” The girl tried to object, but I cut her off.
“This isn’t a request.” A flash of anger flickered in the girl’s eyes.
And immediately disappeared.
Despite her rebellious nature, the girl perfectly understood the rules of the “game.” “You can’t just snap your fingers and transfer your consciousness into another body,” Grell shook her head.
“A direct connection between the subjects is crucial here.
The Emperor subdued us and gained the ability to penetrate our consciousness.
But he never performed full consciousness transfers.
We only heard his voice, his emotions, nothing more.” “We were taught to believe in the Emperor, to adore him,” Carsen picked up.
“To be utterly devoted to him.
For all his power, the Emperor couldn’t subjugate the consciousness of a Sith Lord who hadn’t been prepared or trained.” “Emotional upgrade,” I suggested.
“They made you open to the Emperor’s consciousness.
When you followed the Light path,” I turned to Kira, “you blocked the Emperor’s access to your consciousness.
But he took control of you aboard the ‘Devastator’…” “I gave in to anger,” the girl admitted.
“And my mind became open to him.” “Essentially,” I smiled, “there was no doubt this was a Dark Side technique.
Shall we try?” “I know very little about how exactly the Emperor tuned himself to connect with his agents,” the girl admitted.
“But we know for certain that during the period of using the Voices and the Emperor’s Children, he was in a prolonged meditative trance,” Nadia added.
“Besides,” Carsen reminded, “we need a gifted individual utterly devoted to you…” I noted with internal irony how Kira subtly marked her and Grell’s attitude toward me.
The girls were absolutely right that they only knew the reverse side of the coin — the actions of the Emperor’s consciousness “receivers.” But, try and try again.
“I think our joint meditation will suffice,” I uttered, taking a comfortable posture for releasing consciousness first.
A moment later, both girls joined their minds to mine.
* * * Strangely enough, I even had a subject for consciousness transfer.
And although Kira was only a couple of meters away from me, only she had the special training to contain another, more massive consciousness.
In truth, the idea of transferring my consciousness into another body, gaining control over it, had interested me since I first encountered this technique back when I was a player in a Star Wars MMORPG.
Scouring through countless guides and Internet articles about Force abilities, I picked up pieces of information that were often contradictory.
But in any case, it was information I needed.
I never managed to look into the repository of knowledge on Odessen — and it contained a decent amount of information from the Jedi Order Archives, the Sith Order Archives, even the Voss Mystics.
And the fact that the knowledge was over four thousand years old — that meant nothing at all.
There was a small library aboard the “Defender” and each of the “Furies.” But lack of time hadn’t allowed me to absorb new information.
Of course, in my head there was knowledge about Jedi training, Force techniques that my predecessor had been taught by Valkorion.
Even Kun’s knowledge resided in my skull.
But all of this wasn’t enough for me…
I craved more.
In part, by transferring my consciousness into the bodies of my Hands, I could solve the pressing issue of obtaining new information while staying here on Christophsis, under siege.
Can the state of meditation be described in words?
It can.
Peace, tranquility of mind…
But that’s all for the Jedi.
Controlling another’s body required the Dark Side.
And, truth be told, apart from Naga Sadow’s Battle Meditation, I was hearing about Sith meditations for the first time.
Though, Atroxa was always at my service…
And, oddly enough, on this matter too.
Guided by my memories, I drew power from my followers.
We burned in the Force like three brightest flames, illuminating the entire astral projection of Christophsis with our light.
I observed them and myself from the outside and saw, with considerable surprise, that my flame raged with greater strength than the fires of my companions.
Did that mean something?
Possibly.
Something to figure out, but later.
Enveloping myself in the girls’ Force, I began to project my consciousness into Kira.
At first, nothing happened, but then I felt weak glimmers of another’s emotions.
Her emotions.
Distrust.
Kira’s will, never broken by the Emperor, refused with every fiber of her soul to accept my vision of the future.
With the help of the Force, she managed to hide her negative judgments from me, but now, when the world around us was unburdened by physical shells, I could read her like an open book.
Yet the girl seemed unaware of this.
Pain.
I saw her emotional wound — the loss of her beloved.
I saw her hope for his return.
Somewhere deep within these emotions, I sensed a certain hidden triumph and gloating, an expectation of an inevitable threat to me.
But this “surprise” was very deep in her consciousness, surrounded by numerous thin threads that I was cautious not to disturb.
Circling around the girl’s consciousness, I grew increasingly disappointed in my assumption.
Her consciousness remained closed to me.
Pushing through the tangles of surface emotions and sensations, I reached the core of her consciousness.
And, to my surprise, I noticed it was surrounded by an impenetrable sphere that repelled any attempt I made to enter.
After hundreds of attempts to break through this defense, I had to retreat and leave Kira’s consciousness.
But I found numerous cracks and slight breaches in her defenses.
Not enough to break through them, but quite acceptable for projecting my thoughts.
This was probably the loophole the Emperor had used to gain control over the girl and transmit his thoughts to her after her capture.
Next, I turned my attention to Nadia.
The Sarkhai girl was in complete serenity.
No emotions, only peace.
Her consciousness didn’t resemble the chaos of emotions that raged in Carsen’s soul.
The white-skinned girl had her own inner peace, and she wasn’t troubled by empty fears.
Like Kira, she grieved for a lost loved one.
But that loss remained in the past.
There was no anger in her, no hidden thoughts.
Her attitude toward me could be called indifference — the kind office workers have toward the management of a neighboring department.
But I did detect a certain interest.
The girl wasn’t indifferent to the fate of the galaxy or the fate of the Jedi.
She seemed to have adopted a wait-and-see position, ready to evaluate the actions I took.
Moreover, this seemed to be the general policy of her thinking.
Regardless of what question was being discussed.
Of course, it would be foolish to think that I myself and my intentions could please everyone who came under my command.
But that even the Hands didn’t believe in me stung a little.
At the edge of my consciousness surfaced the Emperor’s words that I should subjugate the Hands to myself.
They needed to know their place and be superstitiously afraid of disappointing me.
And for that, I only needed to say one phrase.
The very one Valkorion used to control his daughter, Vaylin.
Let’s set aside the ethics of such a question.
When you’re conquering a galaxy, that hardly interests you.
But by subjugating that will to myself, would I get only puppets carrying out my will, or fanatically devoted gifted individuals who, like the Revanites, would follow me no matter what epic fail I planned?
So many unresolved questions…
But meanwhile, unlike Kira’s consciousness, I found no barriers in Nadia’s consciousness.
The temptation was too great.
I needed to subjugate the Hands.
To seize influence over them.
An ambitious, risky, and even reckless plan took shape in my mind.
I touched her with my consciousness.
I extended a small bundle of my consciousness and touched the Jedi’s mind, deliberately choosing as the point of contact her thoughts about the future organization of the galaxy and the Order.
If this was important to her, since my words didn’t affect her, then let my thoughts find fertile ground among her concerns.
The concept of the post-war galaxy had long and firmly settled in my mind.
All that remained was to share it with my Hand…
Maybe it would be enough to simply imagine how I saw the future under my rule?
The Force told me that the girl in the real world had experienced brief confusion.
No matter how gently I tried to do it, it turned out like an elephant dancing in a china shop.
At that same second, I felt her heartbeat, felt her blood flowing through her veins.
I felt my presence in her body.
I felt Grell’s consciousness nearby, in a state of shock.
The girl watched in horror as I opened her body’s eyes and looked around.
My own body, frozen in a lotus position.
Hmm, why didn’t anyone tell me my hair was a mess and had grown too long?
I looked like a homeless person in armor.
Kira sitting next to me, knees tucked under her, in a prayerful pose…
Feeling inner triumph, I channeled the Force, slightly shifting a deck on my desk.
I had gained control over another’s body.
I could break free from the confines of my own mind!
Take that, Harry Potter!
In this universe, the Dark Lords had way better cookies!
I should probably wrap this up.
I felt a slight tremor appear in the hands of the Sarkhai’s body, and blood began to flow from the girl’s nostrils down her lips.
I hastily left the girl’s consciousness, minimizing the damage from my presence as much as possible.
Once outside her body, I concentrated on the image of Atroxa.
Well-known, familiar in every centimeter of her body…
As soon as I was able to find her through the Force, my consciousness rushed across the galaxy toward the desired target.
The Lethan, at first stunned by the intrusion into her consciousness, easily yielded control, welcoming me warmly and with desire into her gentle body.
Using her emotions as a beacon, I burst into the Lady Sith’s consciousness without any reverence.
It all helps promote the story.