The art of war. An unforeseen factor

"Wait a minute, Miko! Wait, I'm telling who!" Suddenly, an angry female voice rang out from behind. A vaguely familiar voice. I turned around. Zio Kad'ishi was approaching me at a fast pace, as it immediately came to mind, a Devaron and my former classmate. She looked almost like a human woman, the differences were two dark "bumps" of horns on her forehead and the presence of hair on her ears, such tassels like a lynx, and her facial features were a little harsh. We got to the Jedi Temple almost at the same time. A very domineering person, she always built everyone as she wanted. Well, it's not surprising, as far as I know, they have a matriarchy on the planet.

Next came Sleet Cavendish, a melancholic Rodian guy, another friend and acquaintance of mine. Like almost all Rodians, he was green with large faceted eyes, tube ears, and an elongated mouth. Fortunately, I had already gotten used to my memory, and my body had been used to such a neighborhood since I was a baby, so there were no unpleasant excesses from a close encounter with a representative of such a different race from humans.

A few steps away from me, Zio slowed down, seeing my outfit and "heroic" wounds. After that, without ceremony, she dragged me to the nearest dead end niche. I didn't try to resist — it's easier to get a rancor to dance a yutabi than to convince this self-confident lady.

"Tell me!" Devaronka put her hands on her hips, barely managing to pin me against the wall. "We just got back, and the Temple is half empty! You're not here and no one knows anything, and then all sorts of rumors started spreading, one worse than the other! You were there, so spit it out. Where did you all go, why did so few of you come back, and what happened at all? And who are these strange soldiers?"

"Yes, my friend. You have to tell us everything", Cavendish fixed his eyes on me in agreement.

Sighing, I briefly told them the gist of recent events. Of course, without dangerous revelations about things that I shouldn't know in principle, just a vision from the position of my predecessor. Like, anyway, nothing foreshadowed, then an excited Windu jumped in, gathered almost all the adult Jedi who happened to be in the Temple, gave a short speech on the topic of saving his own and protecting the Republic, drove everyone into transport, and so on, right up to the battle for Geonosis.

"What's going to happen now?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"War."

"This is outrageous! The Jedi are guardians of peace in the Galaxy, not soldiers. We must keep this world in balance, and not unleash conflicts. I'm not going to let this go!"

"And what will you do?" what's happening is starting to bother me. Well, a little more than having to answer to someone I only know from someone else's memory. No, it's clear that this is a necessity and there's no getting away from it, and they seem to be good guys, but... in general, her rhetoric bothered me.

"If the Order does not stop its policy of pandering to the Senate, we will have no choice but to leave the Order in protest!" The girl said hotly. "This is the wisest and most correct decision."

The Rodian nodded in agreement.

"The Jedi Council is acting recklessly. Such a policy harms the ideals of the Jedi Order. We have to leave."

Damn it... I completely forgot that after Geonosis, some of the Jedi left the Order, disagreeing with its policies. Almost a thousand, or even more, went into exile, not wanting to fight. Are these my friends from the so-called outcasts or something? And they want to drag me into it too?

"We?" I stopped liking what was happening at all.

"Aren't you coming with us???"

I shook my head no.

"No. You know, the war cannot be canceled. So, I have no choice but to try...."

"A brainless and blind Bantu!" The devaron woman indignantly poked me in the chest with her finger, literally pinning me with a burning look, as if I had spat into her soul. That's who you are! Are you following the advice? Aren't your wounds enough for you? Do you want to die defending the ideals of this rotten Republic? Let it be so!"

The girl abruptly turned her back on me, glared at me with one last angry look, and ran off down the corridor at a fast pace.

"Think, Miko. Your path is only your path" Sleet sighed sadly, then went to catch up with Zio.

"That's the time..." that's all I could get out of myself. What happened threw me a little out of my rut.

Sorry. Judging by my recollections, they are, in general, really good guys. We were really close friends during our studies. Memories of this... They kept me warm. Even though I knew they weren't really mine, but... sorry. I can't help you. Even if I tell you everything, you just won't believe it. My path is only my path.

* * *

Absorbed in my thoughts, I finally reached the warehouse. I'll tell you honestly — Ali Baba's cave is resting. The warehouses were huge. No. Not like that. HUGE ONES. Thousands of square meters. Hundreds and hundreds of shelves. Dozens of different containers and bags.

It's worth explaining something. The specifics of the Order do not allow Jedi to own personal property, but at the same time, any Jedi can come to this warehouse and receive any item for free. Naturally, having constructively justified this need. That is, let's say you can't just get a frigate here, but as for clothes or any other consumables, it's simple. Within reasonable limits, again.

"What brings you to us, knight?" the Toydarian warehouse manager, who clearly belongs to the hired staff, greeted me with a nasal accent. In general, the Order often used them, hired workers in the sense if they possessed certain talents. This one clearly upgraded the hamster and toad to the eightieth level, no doubt. Judging by the condition of the warehouse. I began to outline my requests.

By itself, the Balance Corps, where my predecessor was a member, does not involve frequent absences from the Temple, because Miko had practically nothing necessary for life in isolation from civilization, not to mention the conditions of military operations, in the bins. I wanted to live, and preferably not too little. Therefore, it is not surprising that as the items were listed, the storekeeper clicked his teeth in surprise and with a degree of respect. When I finished, he whistled:

"However, it's been a while since anyone approached me with such an interesting list. Let's see how I can help you."

Clicking the keys on the terminal, the storekeeper sent a couple of droids somewhere deep into the warehouse. Then, flying on his wings to the nearest shelf, he returned with a bundle, and headed back to the shelves.

First of all, he laid out a set of clothes and a raincoat on the counter. I have no doubt that everything is exactly the right size. He was followed by six YR-2P12 training droids. A pair of practice swords. A medium-power comlink combined with a holoprojector. A dozen empty holo disks. A pair of standard batteries for the sword. A certain amount of rare metals and standard components for creating a sword. A roomy backpack. A small set of "survival" — so, nothing serious — a couple of briquettes of dry rations, a desalination device, a universal breathing apparatus, a coil of durable cable.

"But about the armor, I have to clarify — which one do you need?" Once again, the quartermaster turned away from the screen and glanced at me expressively.

"Well, probably not too bulky, so as not to restrict movement, but if anything, it should somehow protect, at least from blaster shots. Are there any options?"

"Oh yeah. This product, so to speak, is not very popular with the Jedi, yes. In fact, you're the first person to apply for it in the last twenty years. Although I have about seven thousand sets of various armor in stock," the Toydarian proudly announced.

"I think I'll leave the choice up to you." I replied diplomatically.

"You know," the storekeeper chuckled, rubbing his chin with his hand and looking me over, "I have something interesting for you."

Clicking a couple of keys, he brought up an image of an unusual armor on the projector. I'd seen one before, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember where.

"It's not power armor, of course, and it's not a Mandalorian бескар'гам, but it's the best option for you."

"Oh, what kind of armor is that?" I asked.

"Oh, that's a pretty good replica of one of the antique armors", There was a hint of self-satisfaction in the Toydarian's voice. This armor was produced by a private company about seven hundred years ago for the army of one of the planets. I don't know exactly what happened there, but some of the armor came to us as a trophy. In general, this model was quite popular at one time. The helmet has been redesigned and is more comfortable than the original one. I've got a dozen of them under conservation. It's easier with helmets, your brother doesn't use them, so they're in their original packaging. Back then, they still knew how to do high-quality work, yes ... — the storekeeper respectfully blew the last sound and looked thoughtfully at something on the monitor, clearly moving the cursor. What else is there, yeah! So, the armor plates are durasteel, coated with cortosis, however, only chest plates and bracers. The lining is made of fabric armor, a more than common material that can disperse a few not too strong blaster hits and deflect a couple of lightsaber strikes, you know. The design is designed just for humanoids and does not restrict movement, even with your jumps and other acrobatics. A medium-range comlink and a soundboard are built into the armor, somewhere on your hands you need to look. There is also a compact shield generator, but this model has been outdated for three hundred years: it provides protection only from energy weapons, besides the operating time is limited to thirty seconds. After that, it takes at least half an hour to charge the storage cells. Although we also need to look at them, maybe we'll have to change them," the quartermaster finished his monologue and looked at me expectantly.

Yeah, he rolled up his lip. This armor isn't that bad, though.

"No, don't think about it!" the interlocutor understood my facial expression in his own way. "I have newer things, but they won't suit you, the Jedi, well, after the first training session, you'll come to change them, or you'll sit down to redo them. The ergonomics of the elements is not the same: either the joints are tight, or the arms cannot be lifted because of the plates, trust old Rolfo: what do I not know, what kind of plug do your training droids have with a degree of limb freedom? By the time you find a suitable pair of hinges, you'll have drained seven pots into a jar. And the Temple has not ordered armor specifically for itself for a thousand years."

"Okay, I think I'll take it" am I an idiot to refuse protection, even like this?

I hope she helps you, knight....

* * *

I came out of the warehouses in high spirits. We found the armor, carried out a technical inspection, and with the help of such a mother and several droids, we were able to put it in order. The filling really had to be changed by almost half, but I already told you about the size of the warehouse — we managed. With the help of the same cunning Toydarian, I put on the armor. In principle, she didn't weigh that much— about fifteen kilograms. It's a little unusual, but nothing. Hard in training, easy in battle. The armor did not restrict movement at all, and was only a little too big, but it did not matter. The armor systems were controlled via commands from the helmet, plus a holographic deck built into the bracers, and for the Jedi there was a way to control with the Force — well, press a couple of buttons with telekinesis — even a youngling could handle that. And I can survive a weak generator somehow. I'm not going to pretend to be a droideka, am I? I put everything else in my backpack and headed for the inner sanctum. To the Archives.

* * *

Yeah, the great Archives... Yes, this array of information cannot be digested in a thousand years! Yes, it's cooler than Chomolungma!

For one of my "Battles" requests, such a mess was issued that even a wolf howled. Well, why would I want to describe a war between two tribes of some aborigines on some seedy planet that happened thousands of years ago??? Somehow concentrating, I began to highlight more or less familiar information on the main conflicts of the past years — and it all started almost with a rackat. Although no, I'm lying, there are records in an ancient way. I was going to not only view the information I received, but also copy it onto holos for further thoughtful reflection.

Actually, on a cursory glance, I got the impression that either I didn't understand something, or the commanders of ancient times were terrible geniuses.

According to the articles, ninety percent of major galactic conflicts were resolved by some cunning maneuver and necessarily by the complete and unconditional collapse of the forces of "Evil." Well, or "Good", here's how the card will fit. There were practically no cases of peace, revision of some borders and further coexistence. The same Republic has always had the strength not only to defeat, but also to completely suppress the enemy, seize its territories and clean them up, destroying all resistance. And it sometimes looked very wild. Seriously, how can you capture a space comparable to your own state if you have only a fifth of the pre-war army and navy left? You have to be either a genius or...

Or have a cheat, in the form of a loyal Order of the gifted, ready to tear their veins just to "eradicate Evil once and for all"...

Some semblance of common sense was observed only in the Mandalorian Wars and the New Sith Wars, and even there in the archives the emphasis was on the actions of the gifted, and ordinary soldiers, it feels like they didn't decide anything except for very elite pros like Shay Vizla, who later became Mandalore the Avenger, but I repeat, they focused on individual skill and tradition, not cohesion and tactics.

Ordinary soldiers were meat, as in the case of the Republic (dying under loud slogans), they were a militia from the world to the thread, from the forest to the pine, armed with all sorts of shit, or even artificially bred-created (like the Sith fusion), or even just droids — these were not considered at all.

So, the Mandolorians had the Republic as they wanted, but after the intervention of the Jedi (led by Revan), a wild mess began, as a result of which the Mandolorians were defeated.

Yes, and the same Revan — he merged dozens of ships under Malakor V — as a result, victory, but the planet, after using another wonderwafly called the "Gravitational Shadow Generator", turned into a graveyard world. The Sith have no luck on uberwaff. Or, for example, Ruusan and everything that happened after him is nonsense of epic proportions. In my opinion, the Sith made the biggest strategic mistake of the entire war by allowing their forces to be drawn into the battle of Ruusan. Before him, the Sith, again, had Jedi as they wanted and where they wanted, but...