On Kamino — 20 minutes earlier
The rain poured in heavy sheets across the gleaming platforms of Tipoca City, endless waves lashing against the pristine metal structures.
Through the mist and storm, a Consular-class light cruiser descended onto one of the landing pads, repulsorlifts hissing against the rain.
Sifo-Dyas stepped down the ramp, his brown robes whipping around him from the strong winds.
He pulled his cloak tighter, murmuring under his breath:
"Finally... I've arrived at Kamino, just like Hego Damask II instructed.
The coming darkness... The Jedi might be overwhelmed. An army will be needed."
Behind him, several Republic crew members moved carefully, struggling to unload a massive, sealed cargo crate that hovered slightly above the platform using repulsor tech.
One of the younger crewmen, straining with the controls, glanced at Sifo-Dyas with wide eyes.
"Sir," the crewman grunted, wiping rain from his forehead, "this... it's heavy.
Feels like we're carrying an entire mountain of credits in here."
Sifo-Dyas, without missing a beat, adjusted his robes and answered calmly:
"Be careful with it. It contains at least five hundred billion credits."
For a moment, silence reigned on the landing pad.
Then, as one, the entire team of crewmen shouted out: "WHATTTTTTT?!"
But just as their voices echoed through the storm, something strange happened.
The sky shifted. The rain, once thick and relentless, became pinkish-purple. The wind calmed, and the sea below grew still—like glass reflecting the strange sky above.
Sifo-Dyas looked up slowly.
"...Isn't Kamino supposed to have heavy weather?" he muttered.
One of the crew answered while tightening the lock on the cargo frame.
"Yes, sir. Kamino's climate is always turbulent—harsh storms, nonstop rain, constant wind.
Every day."
Sifo-Dyas narrowed his eyes at the strange stillness but said nothing more.
The blast doors to Tipoca City slid open, and he stepped inside, leading the procession as the Republic crew slowly pushed the giant cargo behind him.
Inside, the scene was far from welcoming.
He expected a formal greeting, or at least recognition.
Instead— Kaminoans rushed back and forth through adjacent corridors in tightly organized lines. Some pushed medical carts. Others carried datapads. Dozens of them moved swiftly from chamber to chamber like clockwork, whispering numbers, gene codes, and lab statuses.
Not one of them looked his way.
Even as he stepped through the main hall with billions of credits behind him, Sifo-Dyas was utterly ignored.
He blinked in confusion. Shouldn't the Kaminoans at least acknowledge their customer...?
He paused as a side door opened and more Kaminoans streamed past—some in white genetics uniforms, others clearly lab administrators. Their expressions were unchanging, heads focused on tablets and data as they passed by like ghosts.
And then, just briefly, he caught sight of Lama Su standing in the center of a glass-walled chamber beyond.
Surrounded by aides, Lama Su calmly issued orders.
"The first batch was a bit of a failure," Lama Su said coolly.
"But we will complete her order. As the Queen of Transfiguration instructed—
We are to cease our usual habit of applying sudden growth hormones.
She found it... displeasing."
Not far off, Sifo-Dyas stood in place, dumbfounded.
He wasn't even expected.
Lama Su's gaze briefly shifted toward the entrance, noticing the lone figure standing there in Jedi robes, accompanied by Republic crew and a massive cargo crate.
That must be Sifo-Dyas, Lama Su thought calmly. The one Sir Dark Knight told us would come..
Without pause, Lama Su turned slightly to his side.
"Taun We," he said with his usual measured tone, "assist our guest—the Jedi. Help him understand our situation."
Taun We, ever composed, bowed her head slightly. "It will be done, Minister."
Taun We exited the chamber gracefully and approached Sifo-Dyas, her voice polite but firm.
"I must apologize," she said smoothly.
"We are currently under a very busy schedule. May I comfort you first with some refreshment?"
Sifo-Dyas, though slightly frustrated by the lack of ceremony, kept his composure.
"I'm here to talk about building an army One that will serve the Republic in the difficult years to come.," he said directly.
Taun We nodded, her expression serene and unshaken.
"Of course," she said.
"Please, follow me to the guest room. We can continue our conversation there in greater comfort."
Without further delay, Taun We led him through the pristine white corridors of Tipoca City,
They finally arrived at a quiet guest chamber, clean and sterile,
Sifo-Dyas and Taun We seated themselves opposite each other across a sleek metallic table.
Not wasting a second, Sifo-Dyas leaned forward slightly, his tone serious and direct.
"I want the Kaminoans to create a Grand Army for the Republic," he said firmly.
Taun We's face remained perfectly serene, professional as ever.
"How many units are we speaking about, Master Jedi?" she asked smoothly.
Sifo-Dyas took a measured breath and answered:
"About one million—"
He didn't even finish the sentence.
Taun We, calm but blunt, cut him off mid-sentence.
"We are currently under the most demanding production schedule we have ever undertaken," she said coolly.
"Our special guest—the Queen of Transfiguration—has already commissioned the creation of two million units.
The Knights of Zakuul."
Sifo-Dyas froze slightly, his heart skipping a beat.
He gulped hard, trying to keep his face neutral.
Does this mean... The darkness that Damask warned me about...
Has already arrived? Has it already hijacked my best efforts to protect the galaxy... before I even started?
But he didn't back down.
He activated his holo-communicator, a soft blue shimmer appearing above the table. Moments later, the door hissed open as one of the Republic crew members arrived, guiding a massive repulsor-mounted cargo crate into the room.
The crate hovered slightly off the ground, sealed tight with Republic encryption and authorization markings.
Sifo-Dyas turned back to Taun We, his voice firm.
"I know how trade works," he said.
"And I'm willing to pay up front.
This cargo contains five hundred billion credits—as immediate payment."
Taun We stared at the crate, unfazed. Her expression didn't change.
With her usual calm tone, she replied:
"The Queen of Transfiguration brought in three trillion credits."
She paused a moment, almost as if to let that number settle.
"And she didn't bother using a cargo container. She used encrypted credit cards.
Though I'll admit... 30,000 individual cards was quite the task."
Taun We eyes narrowed slightly in dry fatigue.
"I didn't sleep for at least a week just to count them all."
Sifo-Dyas went pale.
His jaw didn't drop—but it was close. His fingers twitched slightly on the edge of the table.
Three... trillion...? That's more than the Muur Banking Clan's liquid reserves...
More than the Hutt Cartel in its peak age...
Steeling himself, he leaned forward.
"I need to speak with this Queen of Transfiguration. " he asked carefully.
Taun We didn't blink.
"Only if your source funder also comes," she replied calmly.
Sifo-Dyas froze again—this time in silence.
Taun We remained serene.
"No, we don't spy on you," she said.
"But I am aware the Jedi Order relies heavily on Republic support for funding.
So please... have your real funder come in person."
"Then..." Sifo-Dyas said stiffly, rising from his chair, "I take my leave."
He gave a polite nod and walked out with measured steps, though inside, his entire strategy was collapsing.
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Surveillance Chamber, Above
Beyond the one-way observation glass, high above the guest chamber, two figures stood.
One was Lama Su, arms clasped neatly.
The other loomed taller—wreathed in a tattered blackish-purple hooded cloak.
A pale yellow, bone-like mask covered his mouth.
Two metallic, horn-like constructs extended from his upper back like branches of twisted silver.
It was Morgan, in her Yogumunt disguise—fully manifested as the Monarch of Transfiguration.
Lama Su glanced sideways and murmured:
"I still think your new attire... is a bit evil."
Morgan didn't look at him, her voice low and calm behind the mask.
"Very good, Lama Su. But your people still have a habit of using growth acceleration, don't they?"
Lama Su bowed his head slightly.
"My apologies. But let's stay on topic."
He turned toward the screen, watching Sifo-Dyas depart the corridor.
"Are you sure," Lama Su asked, "you want to surrender some of your Zakuul clone facilities... to this new funder?"
Morgan Only react in silent .
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Meanwhile — Kamino Space, Present
High above the swirling oceans of Kamino, a sleek black Scimitar-class stealth ship cruised silently through the misty clouds.
Inside the dim cockpit, two figures sat.
Darth Plagueis, the Muun Lord, leaned back in his seat, his tone cold and filled with irritation.
"You let someone with a high profile and immense wealth roam around freely?" Plagueis hissed.
"Why didn't Maul eliminate this... Queen of Transfiguration already?"
Beside him, Darth Sidious kept his hands folded calmly over his lap,
"I was occupied," Sidious said smoothly.
"Training Maul on Malachor consumed much of my time.
And now..." he added, his voice slightly tightening, "I've been burdened with the coronation of Queen Amidala."
Sidious gave a sharp look toward his Master.
"And before you say it, yes—I am aware our plan is in jeopardy.
But may I ask, Master— Why you didn't act more quickly when our first batch of clones was suddenly hijacked... By an unknown Queen?"
Sidious, unable to completely suppress his sarcasm, added:
"Must I also come here personally? What would happen if everyone discovered Senator Palpatine casually roaming around on Kamino?"
Plagueis's gaze darkened.
"Enough," Plagueis said coldly, his voice like a low rumble of distant thunder.
"No more words. We can continue this bickering—after we handle our main problem."
Sidious clenched his jaw but stayed silent, glancing out the viewport as the rain-smeared clouds of Kamino thickened around them.
"And what about Sifo-Dyas?" Sidious asked sharply.
Plagueis leaned slightly back in his seat, voice still deep and unwavering.
"Dooku was supposed to handle it," he said.
"Dooku would step into place once Sifo-Dyas was removed. The clone army would still come under our control."
A grim pause followed.
"But now..." Plagueis continued, almost grinding his teeth,
"I no longer know if eliminating Sifo-Dyas within the next ten years is the right decision.
Our entire Plan has been reversed—by massive steps."
Frustration, a rare thing in Darth Plagueis, seeped into his tone.
He turned to Sidious sharply. "Put your hood deeper.And I trust you brought your contact lenses to hide your Sith eyes?"
Sidious didn't reply, but wordlessly pulled the edge of his hood lower over his brow. His gloved hand brushed briefly against a slim case hidden beneath his robes—where his false contact lenses were stored.
Below, on the storm-soaked landing platform, their Scimitar-class stealth ship descended silently, hissing steam as it settled beside the Republic Consular-class cruiser that had brought Sifo-Dyas.
The boarding ramp lowered.
Darth Plagueis stepped down first, his Muun frame elegant and slow, followed closely by Sidious, whose gait was careful and deliberate.
But the moment they descended, Plagueis's brow creased behind his mask of serenity.
Why... is the weather calm?
The clouds above were not swirling gray—but rather still and eerie.
The rain that fell upon them was pinkish-purple, luminescent and soft.
The sea, known for its constant raging tides, Now flat as a mirror.
"This weather," Plagueis murmured quietly, "feels... unnatural."
Sidious stood beside him, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Very strange indeed," he said evenly.
And I haven't told him yet, Sidious thought,
About the entity I encountered on Malachor... the one who wore bone and shadow.
The one who defeated me—Yogumunt.
And now… this rain. This vibe… it gives me the creeps.
Not far from the edge of the platform, Sifo-Dyas waited.