Chapter 44: Aftermath (Part 1)

"Well now... and what do you suggest I do with you?"

Dark, unblinking eyes stared down at me.

"To be honest, I'm a bit in shock. With one smooth impaling on a metal rod, you’ve managed to screw up all my long-term work. Though, what are a few months to someone who lives for centuries? But it’s still aggravating, you know. So, what… do I have to save you again?"

If I could have, I would have answered. But my torn throat made that impossible.

Surprisingly, there was no pain. I suppose if I could see my own body, I would certainly panic. However, that’s hard to do when you can’t move your head, let alone your eyes.

"Silent, eh? Well, quite right. Don't interfere with the only spark of intellect in your modest brain as it contemplates the future. Sigh... and to think, in another six months, I would have managed to take control of your body... Why are you glaring at me so spitefully? No, I haven't broken our agreement. It would have been insurance. You know, you weren't exactly in a hurry to find me a new vessel, either."

The red head vanished from my field of vision. Indistinct muttering drifted in from somewhere to the side, approaching and then receding. It seemed my Master was pacing in circles... but where, exactly?

Actually, it didn't matter anymore. I think, therefore I am. If I exist, I’m still alive. But how? I was one hundred percent certain I had no chance of surviving that explosion.

The final seconds of my life flashed before my eyes again.

Backpacks stuffed with explosives slam into the reactor. The pressure on my chest vanishes. Through the Force, I feel the reactor struggling to contain the blast.

A blinding flash, followed immediately by a horrific roar.

Intense heat washes over my entire body. Simultaneously, the blast wave catches me and hurls me into the unknown. It happens so fast that I don't even have time to react.

My body is tossed from side to side like a rag doll. At some point, consciousness left me.

And here I am.

If I understand correctly, this is my own mind, where one of my mentors has somehow ended up. Though, why "somehow"? I was told in plain words exactly how it happened.

And again, if I believe what was said, I'm finished either way. No one lives long with wounds like these. By the time they dig me out, if they even look for me at all, and by the time they get me to the medics... I’ll be dead. You don't even need to peer into the Force to predict that future.

"Hey, you still alive? Your gaze is looking awfully glassy... Ah, I see, you haven't kicked the bucket yet. Anyway, here’s what we’re going to do. Wandering the galaxy as a phantom doesn't appeal to me. Looking for a new body again, starting all over... Besides, some Sith might decide to pocket my mortal consciousness. So listen to me carefully. Not that you have much of a choice. Heh."

Tossing his head back, he took a long swig from a flask.

"Here's the deal. I’ll patch you up and keep you alive until they dig you out. Don't worry, your second Master is actively digging this way. Sounds good so far, right? In exchange, I’m moving into your consciousness. Now listen closely: you are obligated to strictly follow all my instructions regarding the creation of an artificial body."

Apparently, my expression changed, because he waved a hand at me irritably.

"What the hell would I want with your body? It's huge, awkward, and ugly. And this hair... No, it’s pure filth. Disgusting. I lived in one like that once; it was a total nightmare. So, you’ll work as a courier. If I wanted to seize control, I would have done it three months ago. And yes, for the future: remember that you cannot have prolonged contact with any artifacts containing another consciousness. No two-hour or even one-hour conversations. Activate it, ask your question, and put it as far away as possible. Understood? Good boy."

"Though, why am I wasting my breath? You don't have a choice anyway. You either merge with the Force, or you tolerate my presence in your head. I’ve seen your memories. You certainly aren't planning on dying. So, I’m just keeping you in the loop. You’ll thank me later."

"Now, don't mind me while a grown man pulls you back from the brink. It’s difficult, you know, maintaining life in a body where practically every bone is broken, parts of the body are missing, and the whole person has at least third-degree burns. So, rest..."

A red finger touched my forehead. The world tilted slightly and went dark.

******

The Grand Inquisitor stared gloomily at the massive, scorched crater. Ships were hauling up one piece of debris after another. But it was slow, too slow. Two days had gone essentially nowhere. The amount of wreckage had barely been reduced by half. Time was melting away before his eyes.

By all appearances, it had practically run out.

Through the Force, he sensed several living beings approaching him.

"Greetings, Grand Inquisitor. I am Officer Dark. I have been tasked with replacing you to establish full control over the planet. The Emperor commands you to return to your ship."

"This is extremely... strange. During our personal meeting, the discussion was about ensuring the threat was completely gone."

"I see." After a brief pause, the officer glanced at the ruins of the factory. "However, I must still relay the Emperor’s will to you. Unfortunately, I possess no outside information. The order is explicit."

"Very well. I will inform the staff officers to begin briefing you. However, you certainly won't be able to assume your duties for at least another two days."

"As you say, sir." Judging by the sound of rustling fabric, Dark shrugged. "But I believe I still must notify high command of this. You understand, an order is an order."

"That is unnecessary. I will contact them myself."

The men stepped aside, allowing the proudly striding figure through. Although the Grand Inquisitor appeared composed, he was seething inside.

He needed to recover the apprentice. If the boy was still alive, a literal flood of favors would be showered upon him after his recovery. Most importantly, he would become a full-fledged Jedi Hunter.

A valuable and useful lever, a loyal support that could always be utilized. And, he could claim a share of the glory for himself.

It seemed recent achievements had outweighed past mistakes. And much of that was thanks to the apprentice. His special squad was one of the most effective combat units in this war. On several occasions, he had played a vital role.

He wanted to solidify that success. A few captured Jedi would help with that. He had intentionally withheld certain data for his personal use. No one else could know of it.

But he himself would likely be transferred back to Nur to coordinate the Hunters' actions. He also needed to inspect the skills of the new stormtroopers.

And overall... hopes of killing Vader still smoldered in the darkness of his soul. Granted, that monster grew stronger with every meeting. Though, as they say, where there’s a will, there’s a way. But without the apprentice, it would be difficult...

He needed to weigh all the pros and cons once more. Yes, and begin developing one of the backup options. If he couldn't win a few extra days, he would have to change part of his plans.

He could only hope the Force was still on his side.

******

A few stormtroopers were clearing rubble in one of the passageways.

"Helmet, Gear, why the hell did you two decide to go looking for adventure? Why the fuck did you find this passage? It was so conveniently caved in; we could have just walked past. The combat engineers would have come through with scanners later. But no, you 'heard voices.' You’ve been hearing voices since the Clone Wars. You should go get yourselves checked out.

"Shut up, Timer. By the way, how long have we been at this?"

"So, should I shut up or tell you the time? Can you be a bit more specific with your requests? Forty minutes."

"Don't provoke me..."

"Or what? I’m the one who should be complaining. I was just passing by, and they make me work. They’re probably serving something tasty in the barracks right now."

"Less talking, more hauling. And don't forget protocol. No names. I’ve warned you more than once."

"Oh, come on. Even if we all grew up together. You’re the 'Gear' in the great machine, but I need a name. At least let me talk normally among brothers."

"Oh, just shut up already."

A small stone struck the helmet, causing a reflexive jerk of the head.

"Were you born in that armor?! Why I ought to.... Hey, guys, am I the only one seeing this?"

"What have you got?"

"I'm not sure yet; give me more light."

Flashlight beams pierced the thickening gloom.

"Pah, just another corpse. Like we haven't seen enough of them? Probably another Separatist trying to escape, ran down the corridor. Good riddance."

"Uh, no... it jerked."

"What?"

"Right there again, look for yourselves!"

In the bright light, it was indeed visible: the fingers were moving ever so slightly.

"It can't be..."

"It can, it can. Gear, run for the others. As for us, my thick-headed friend, we’re clearing this rubble. Our promotion is lying right here, chilling out."

The work accelerated. By the time a dozen stormtroopers appeared at the exit, the body had been extracted from beneath the debris.

A pair of medics bustled around, checking the patient's condition.

"How is he still alive?"

"Tell me about it… thin as a skeleton. Legs and arms definitely broken multiple times. Plus these burns, and he's turned blue all over..."

The soldier abruptly bit his tongue. Cold sweat broke out on his back. Everyone backed away from the body lying on the ground.

Two eyes, glowing in the darkness, seemed to stare into each of their souls.

A cold, practically mechanical voice, devoid of any emotion, echoed through the tunnel.

"I am an Imperial Inquisitor. The mission to destroy the factory was successfully completed. My partner is likely still under the rubble. I believe the Grand Inquisitor will be pleased to know there are survivors."

The broken body shifted slightly. For a fraction of a second, an arm detached, revealing the charred edges of the wound, but it soon returned to its rightful place.

Following this, the sound of several men wheezing was heard.

"I do not like to repeat myself. My partner needs help, so hurry. Our superior will be very angry if one of us dies because of your delay..."

The end of the sentence was drowned out by a loud cracking sound. It seemed the very rock surrounding the sentients shuddered and began to splinter.

******

Consciousness returned as if someone had flipped a switch. Though, that was entirely possible. Who knows how the Master is able to affect my body.

"How? Any way I want. But why the hell would I bother?"

From surprise, I flinched, or rather, I tried to.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I had to work quite hard to stop your bleeding. It would be a shame if those wounds opened up again because of you."

An attempt to say something failed. Only a dull rasp escaped my cracked lips.

"This is going to be unpleasant. But it's your own fault for waking up. Besides, it'll be good for you..."

And then, I felt everything. The wound where my missing arm should be was itching and aching horribly. The part of my leg that had almost completely detached from my body. Every breath felt as if my skin was being torn off alive. Though, why "as if"? Not immediately, but I caught the scent of burnt meat coming from my own self. Any movement, even the smallest, disturbed the hard crust that covered part of my body like a shell.

It was a slow and agonizing torture. I wanted to thrash and howl in pain. But I had to lie motionless, trying not to even breathe. But in place of the full spectrum of physical pain, a pain of a different sort crept in.

My consciousness, like a trapped beast, darted from side to side, trying to cling to any thought at all. A little more, and I would have certainly gone mad.

My lips parted, emitting a barely audible sound.

"Nine hundred ninety-nine."

"Nine hundred ninety-eight."

"Nine hundred ninety-seven..."

An old method, though I no longer remember where it came from in my head. To keep from losing my mind completely, I needed to occupy my brain with work. Anything, something primitive, but requiring concentration.

A semblance of meditation, for which I currently lacked the fortitude.

The more I counted, the more the Darkness enveloped me. It seemed to fill the entire space around me, seeping into the thin cracks between the debris, into the fissures of the stones themselves.

I don't know how long I had to lie like that. All my concentration went into counting. As soon as I reached zero, I started over.

The Force was practically vibrating around me.

The trigger was a tiny pebble falling exactly between my eyes. Such a small object was enough to jerk me out of my concentration.

The pain, pushed to the back of my mind, returned.

It was unbearably difficult to endure. And I screamed, releasing everything that was inside me through that shriek.

And then it happened… a Force Burst. The surrounding debris flew in all directions as if from another explosion. It seemed I was lying on a massive slab, as the floor beneath me perceptibly rocked.

In the corner of my mind, I could feel the objects surrounding me vanishing. The pressure on various parts of my body disappeared.

A hemisphere several dozen meters wide formed around me. Compressed into a homogeneous mass, the blocks supported the ceiling. And in that ceiling, a small hole appeared. A thin beam of light fell directly onto my chest.

Suddenly, it went dark again. With a consciousness slipping into semi-delirium, I was able to catch someone's distant cry and the way many points of life were hurrying across the surface.

"Well, congratulations. You've become even stronger than before. Now, rest..."

******

The hood that usually obscured the face of the former Chancellor was thrown back. When he was alone, such a pleasant luxury was permissible.

The momentous victory over the core of the Separatist remnants had significantly advanced his plans. Now, the army was completely under his control.

True, there were some unpleasant surprises. But they had managed to escape with relatively little blood spilled. Practically all the useless trash had been cleared out. Moreover, the ranks of the clones had thinned considerably. Thus, the replacement process could be carried out earlier than originally planned.

He should consider the next move in the game. Or perhaps settle the remaining minor details? After all, the first generation of acolytes had turned out to be a failure. They were too idiosyncratic. Some of them could have potentially claimed a place as his apprentices, but the risk was too great.

He should have stuck to the original project. It was a pity Cad Bane brought a "tail" with him. Even two Force-sensitive infants were worth a great deal. He could have raised them exactly as he needed, silent and obedient in everything only to him.

Well, the mechanism is working again. He only needed to wait, and that was something he did better than most.

The current roster of his followers did not shine with talent. All, with the exception of Lord Vader, were exceptionally mediocre. But it was enough for hunting surviving Jedi. In fact, it was for the best. By the time the new generation grew up, the old one would die out on its own.

Though even in this stagnant swamp, changes might soon occur. After all, not all of the first group are dead. These acolytes...

With a barely perceptible movement of his finger, he activated the holograms.

A human and a Pantoran, what interesting specimens. Talented, and the Force is clearly on their side. To survive practically in the epicenter of the blast... and the way they survived...

One had managed, by some miracle, to regenerate part of his tissues, prevent necrosis, and stop the bleeding. The other had practically pulled himself together, piece by piece, using the Force.

The examination showed that one of the arms had been completely torn off. But according to the stormtroopers, the fingers of that limb were moving. Very interesting.

Of course, their injuries severely limit their potential. Again...

His face, disfigured by scars, contorted for a second. The memory of his own mistake and the overestimation of young Skywalker’s strength resurfaced.

Even so, they could already serve as excellent pawns in his plans. And a permanent dependence on high-end medical treatment would bind them even more tightly to the Empire.

Well, let them live for now.

And now, it is time to attend to more important matters.