In orbit of Ruusan.

The war.

I've been at war for two years now.

I've killed, I've tortured, and I've been tried to be killed.

It's hard to say what was the hardest.

Probably not being able to scratch my back, because even through tissue armor, it's a problem.

And here we are, so beautiful and stinky and partly lousy, flying to Ruusan.

Ask me, why stinky?

Have you tried living in armor?

Even by regularly giving up your laundry, you'll still soak the protective layer in the smell of sweat, excitement and fear.

And when you come under massive gunfire, it won't take long to get your pants in.

However, your comrades-in-arms are the same, so you treat the unplanned cargo in your pants with condescension. If he pissed in his pants but kept fighting, he's normal.

They'll laugh, but until the next fight.

And a blaster bolt or lightsaber, of course, give a tightly soldered burn wound. But by passing through the intestines, they create a high fever that causes micro-explosion of intestinal gases and baked shit wants to splash into your mouth.

When you're stuffed in a landing shuttle a lot and more, the smell around you is powerful. Especially when somebody in the shuttle is gassing you. Comrades do not want to smell only his digestive system and begin to emit gases in return.

All this is interspersed with jokes, laughter, blows to the ribs and cuffs.

Battle brotherhood, as the memoirs later write.

"Through these fields of destruction

Baptisms of fire

I've witnessed your suffering

As the battles raged higher.

And though we were hurt so bad

In the fear and alarm

You did not desert me

My brothers in arms."

But today we are almost kings.

We only fly ten muzzles, only assassins. We had to run through the jungles of Kashyyyk for six months, after a successful mission to eliminate the top of Kuat Corporation.

But the road is now alone, to damn Ruusan.

The most interesting thing is that the leaders of the Brotherhood of Darkness do not consider it necessary to celebrate somehow successes in affairs of ordinary participants of their war.

Mercenaries, okay. They have a fare. Sometimes they even get a bonus.

Ungifted meat gets paid some kind of money.

Orders, medals and other awards? No, I haven't.

Frozen themselves, in public, of course, to the state of "I'll kill them all, I'll stay alone", the Lords believe that their smaller brothers in the Force should "put their heads on the altar of the dark side". And do it for free.

You can't even wait for words of approval in front of the formation.

They provoke a looter, but don't forget to bite their percentage. Usually 50/50.

Sometimes, in the mood and twenty percent can leave the performer.

However, they don't forget about their own material well-being.

When in Kuat targets from the board of directors were killed, you think we arranged for them to "accidents", "for natural reasons", seasoned "after a long and long illness" to disrupt the construction of new ships for the Republicans?

No, we didn't.

Exclusively a stock review.

And on large holders, even the Brotherhood wouldn't open its mouth. With even the slightest suspicion of a threat, such a strong response could have come that the Jedi Order was just a punching boy compared to it.

Bounty hunters, at a reasonable price, would deliver any reasonable employer. Packed or shredded.

Both the Brotherhood and the Order were allowed to wage profitable wars, but no one was going to let them into the distribution of large capitals.

As a result, the Brotherhood now has three whole and twenty-six hundredths of a percent more shares under its control than before the special operation.

We had to do something about it.

Four traces pointed to the direct heirs who had failed due to the trial, and the indirect ones were taken under unobtrusive control.

Three holders married comrades who needed someone there.

In principle, only once was it necessary to "straighten the corner" a little bit. But that was the demand of the Lords.

The Quat Regollo is one-tenth of the shares of the Quat Shipyard.

This heir, after being announced as such, hit a week's worth of drinks and drugs, girls and boys. After that, he gave all of his property to some charity foundation, which is registered on one of the Republican senators from Coruscant. And then he killed himself.

The loser filmed the suicide process on his voice. And all the interested people could see for themselves how Regollo Quat shoved a firecracker up his ass and blew it up. He bled for half an hour on the air, used drugs and mumbled something inaudible about the cunning of the beautiful Jedi.

Several shareholders, with our active help, shared with larger holders, which allowed us to cover up our main actions.

All this required training and skill in execution. I spent a year on the job.

And now, I have to come to Ruusan to perform meat functions.

Excellent use of human resources, nothing to say.

One thing's good. The war is coming to an end.

Apparently, the Brotherhood is pulling its weight to try to defeat all the Jedi at once. All in accordance with the canon.

Sleepy eyes look out the window.

In orbit, squadrons have sluggishly exchanged fire.

From time to time, groups of fighters on both sides cut through the enemy lines. The fighters fired in different directions, suffered losses, "permissible", as will be noted later in reports. A certain number of cars with pilots were coming back.

Before entering the atmosphere, the shuttle circled the half-destroyed skeleton of once mighty battleship, which, being abandoned by the crew, has already hit the gravity well of the planet and the whirlpool in three collapsed to the surface.

Well, at least the blocking squadron gave us an escort from the fighter squadron, because the Army of Light tried to bite off a piece of our shuttles.

An hour later, I met an old acquaintance.

Rinka, who didn't seem to be clinging to the dirt and desolation that reigned in the camp, "pleased" me with the news that only she and I were left of our group.

The rest of them put their lush heads together.

And Marika died in the detention of a Jedi, who went to one of the fortifications.

As I understood, it was Githany, who was not going to resist, because she was going to the Brotherhood, but hot Assassin nature of my friend urged to attack and capture. Bad head, does not give peace to swords.

Then we stood in a crowd at the staff tent.

Sker Kaan told us that everything was like one and the same nonsense.

At the same time, he accompanied his speech with a powerful mental message, brainwashing grateful listeners.

What is there to say?

His mental message only comes to someone who's ready for it.

I stood there and depicted an aura of rapture.

Then there was a distribution, and I met Rinka in her mouth.

The whole company was eighteen reasonable, six of whom were gifted, twelve Mandalore recruits, plus now I'm with a motorcycle.

How'd you like that? For any biker, his motorcycle is alive and well.

Somehow, that's how the battle for Ruusan started for me.

***

Now the sun's gone to hell

And the moon's riding high

Let me bid you farewell

Every man has to die

But it's written in the starlight

And every line on your palm

We're fools to make war

On our bro in arms

I sing old songs.

I've prepared a plan.

It's time to sum it up. It's time for the main exam.

Darth Bane has arrived at the camp.

I've been gathering information all the time.

When I was a mechanic, my contact was a good help. Most conflicts aren't like there was any pressure in the bud, not at all.

In Heaven's River, I didn't change my rule and got to know each other everywhere, even if it was superficial.

I forgot most of the Sentience's when I stopped talking and broke up.

They remembered me.

And how do you forget me?

I'm an honest, concretely positive person, ready to always joke, sympathize, get into position.

I'm not confused by the diversity of life forms.

And some subtleties in the behavior of some reasonable people, that's normal.

Everybody has their flaws.

You have to judge the intelligent as a person, not by labels.

Especially since the habit of labels is a criterion for the absence of one's own opinion.

I've always said that if you don't have your own thought, remember and quote someone else's.

I don't have and didn't have contempt for the uncharted, and they appreciated it.

And that was my advantage.

When they handed out the rations, they whispered to me that Darth Bane had arrived.

The masters are preparing for some great and powerful ritual.

What did you think?

Nobody notices the attendants, and they notice everything.

I've watched many times that customers have personal conversations, counting ordinary workers for the environment, or at best appendages to the tools.

I wasn't offended by such things. Everybody has their own problems and nobody has their own simple ones.

Especially since listening and peeking, you can learn a lot of interesting things.

When all the Lords gathered in a circle around Bane, I took a seat in the front row of the audience.

Too bad there was no popcorn.

The forest decided to set fire to a ritual of the Force.

The power of the assembled Overlords was not impressive.

It was terrifying.

When everyone, in a single impulse, rushed to cut the Jedi, I walked away from the impression for five minutes.

Kaan read some speeches, encouraged all those for whom "There is power, there is no need for intelligence".

Then they rushed to the speeders in a crowd, hurried to cut the Jedi.

If the pathos could be scooped with a spoon, mine would be stuck.

So Githany talked to Bane and ran to the Speeder too.

Beautiful girl, she'd have babies, but she'd be there.

Bane's gone, he needs to carry out his "brilliant" plan.

I sat on the plateau a little longer, looking up at the burning forest from above.

That's awesome.

It's a power used to kill people like you.

It's a stupid waste of resources.

And if today's Lords are weak compared to the ancients, what were the ancients like?

I'm shaken up. It's not the time to think.

If both the ancients and the modern ones decided to flush their lives down the toilet instead of creating, it's their personal business.

I make a hand gesture and my "King" rolls up, quietly rustling with wheels.

Why?

Yeah, I built an astrodroid brain into him, he's very loyal to me, sympathetic.

He'll soon have a personality. Hopefully not like the old movie "I Bought a Killer Motorcycle".

And not like King in "Christine".

The figures are in place, it's time for action.

He patted on the tank, sat down, gave me gas.

Let's go!

***

Excitement and fear. It's very light.

Disgusting feelings. They're present, there, on the edge of consciousness...

All these years here in the Heavenly River, ripped my veins to come to this day.

And the uncertainty has remained.

I smile under my helmet. I'm not a killing machine, as it turns out.

Death is as easy as a fluff. Duty is as heavy as a mountain.

It's easy to remember, hard to accept.

I'm not afraid for myself.

It's scary for the cause. Here's to my plan.

Everything hangs in the balance.

These aren't Jedi I've learned how to kill, almost always in the back.

Now let's dive in and start taking preliminary conclusions.

What's the upside and what's the downside.

Bane killed Kas'im, who is far from my skill. True, the master of the blade got caught trying to lead an "honest duel", and I know for sure that this is not the Olympic Games.

Give or take.

The Lord of Qordis in front of me, Bane just dared his power.

But he wasn't preparing to defend himself.

But Bane didn't see me half a hundred yards away.

That's good for me.

Calm down, we're leveling our breath now.

Swords of light is not the main thing.

It's not swords that fight, it's reasonable battles.

"A true warrior wins first, then comes into battle. A fake warrior enters into a fight, then tries to win."

By the canon, Bane must show up soon with the girl.

Yes, now the looters have come, they'll gut the tents.

As I was closing in the Force, but the explosion of the Mental Bomb hit the brains a lot.

My head was shaking.

We should take a walk around, pull a life out of someone for the Dark Healing.

But Bane would probably be able to detect the Dark Side ejection, which means he'd know someone from the Brotherhood was alive.

I'm sitting on my ass straight.

I'm meditating. Cooking a powerful doppelganger.

Similfuturus allows you to program the doppelganger for certain actions, but you can't put many algorithms in it. If I can do it.

The most important thing is that at the time of activation, it's a specific Force background.

So I drink slowly, drop on the drop, from the side so little movement and not trace.

That's another plus.

Despite my independent exercise, I'm not getting Juyo.

Of course, I'd kill a wimp and a padawan, but I wouldn't risk it against Bane.

So, the "hit and bounce" option.

The doppelganger would be like a well-healthy, weakened after a bomb hit.

A sword's made enough for itself, it's a well-armed patient.

The Force barrier holds for almost six seconds, that's a plus one.

Negatio Damnarium, thank you very much to Master Tuska. I saw her glimpse of the camp, resting in the Force, crazy bitch. You gave me the advantage, and that's a great plus.

All the masters love lightning, and I am almost indifferent to them to a certain, and very high power.

Tutaminis hasn't really mastered it, but the initial stage, when lightning is caught with a blade, I know how.

It's also a plus one.

On the other hand, the optimist in the cemetery also sees some advantages.

Oh, I can smell the darkness.

Bane.

Clear the mind of an outsider.

Here we go!

Bane missed the first punch, enthusiastically killing all the wimps he couldn't resist.

It's all about science, first attacking limbs with weapons.

I'm trying Dun Möch.

"Funny, isn't it?"

Bane roasted lightning bolts with his left. Take it with a sword.

You have to go around it counterclockwise, from the side of the crippled hand.

Let him focus not on Force Techs, but on the fact that he's defenseless from this side.

"Whoever called himself Darth's title is just an ignoramus."

Let's go, let's go.

Piss off, let him think primitive.

"Who are you?"

That's great. I can hear some nervousness in voice, all right.

"It doesn't matter."

A few slow warm-ups on Juyo fly.

Let him think about his missing sword.

"All that matters is that whoever calls himself the dark lord can't control his sense of danger."

Bane roared and got caught.

Instead of something sophisticated, he hit me with his bare power.

Power barrier, doppelganger, long throwback, invisibility.

That's a combination I've worked on hundreds of times.

The first round is on me.

Zannah helped. She distracted the bald for three seconds.

I'm going around, I'm in the back position.

It's a classic.

The doppelganger's wheezing like a real one. Distract me, honey.

Bane, when he heard about Rule Two, forgot to breathe, I guess.

I do Shiak, but it's not easy.

I'm not Zorro, but I've been practicing the letter "Z," and now I'm painting Bane on my back.

Something makes me laugh, my nerves.

The aura of a collapsed Sith kneeling starts to flicker, he fights for life.

With his spine cut into pieces, his heart, his lungs?

Strong, strong.

He was.

I go around, I pick up my sword.

Doppelganger, goodbye, dear. You've become almost the best friend.

You're exhausted, martyr.

"Illusion," I confessed, and then I looked at Bane. "Assassin school on Ryloth."

When I watched episode three, I imagined how surprised Mace Windu would be if Palpatine got his second sword.

The bald man was still fighting for life, but the Force was slowly flowing out of his truly powerful body.

Something's wheezing.

I'm pissed at the pathos.

It'll make Zannah clearer, too.

"I get it. You mean the Rule of Two."

I crossed both blades around his neck.

The snap! The gardener should have had scissors like that.

"Always have two lightsabers."

Just in case, I cut my head in three pieces. Reinsurance.

But who knows, these great figures of the canon are not very simple.

The variant of a born-again avenger doesn't suit me at all.

He put the parts of his head on the corpse.

Yes! Finally, the weight fell off my shoulders, I want the usual, simple.

I want to search the camp for values.

But first acquaintance with a small, but very promising girl, who looking in my direction.

I sat down and leveled the difference in height.

"Come here, child."

The girl was hesitating, so I'll take my helmet off.

I have a disposable face, I love children. In my past life, I had no problem making contact with a minor contingent.

The little one came up.

We need to keep in touch.

"What's your name, child?"

She wasn't happy to look back at "child". Let's face it.

"Zannah."

I nod. Open gestures are good for contact.

"My name is..."

A new life, a new name. The same Latin is used in the galaxy for something special. The name of a two-faced Roman god will do.

"You may address me by the name of Janus. And I will be your teacher."

I put my hand on the girl's shoulder and let a wave of tranquillity take its toll.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What if he had repulsed you?"

I blatantly smiled and threw half a hoodie away.

There were a few curved handles hanging from the wide belt.

Sometimes a simple joke can be the beginning of a long, good friendship.

I'm looking for friends.

There's a lot of business ahead of me. You can't leave everything to your employees.

Welcome to the adult world, Zannah.

Great things await us.