Ten years, third month, and twelfth day after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, third month, and twelfth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and thirty-second day since arrival).
"Nothing in the world is better,
Than blowing up a Zygerrian's engine."
The vulgar rhyme appeared in Captain Kalian's head at the very moment his Destroyer's missile salvo overtook the Zygerrian slavers' cargo ship.
There was something symbolic about it.
The Steel Aurora had just shot the engines out of a YV-865 class cargo ship.
Also known as the Aurora.
In its day, this type of starship became famous during the Clone Wars period as a slaver transport used by Separatist supporters such as the Zygerrians and Thalassians.
Was it surprising that opponents of the legitimate regime were supported by slave-trading empires?
No, not at all.
Especially if one recalls that among the Republicans there were also those who maintained close ties with slave-trading empires.
YV-865 Aurora-class cargo ship.
Built by the Corellian Engineering Corporation, the freighter, with dimensions not exceeding fifty-five meters in length, is equipped with a Class 2 hyperdrive.
Armed with a pair of laser cannons in the bow and a tractor beam assembly, it was, with fairly simple controls that a single pilot could handle, a quite formidable ship in such remote territories as the Veel sector.
The Veel and Chorlian sectors.
Not so long ago, Veel, like neighboring Chorlian, despite proximity to the Perlemian Trade Route from the east and the Corellian sector from the north, was considered part of the unexplored Wild Space.
Where first and foremost the law of strength was valued.
It was in the Chorlian sector that the notorious Zygerrian Slave Empire arose and developed.
The Clone Wars and the Republic as a whole did much to besiege the Zygerrians, which caused them to rush into cooperation with the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
The Empire, which replaced the Old Republic, preferred to close its eyes to what was happening in this region.
Unsurprisingly, smugglers, slavers, pirates, mercenaries, Hutts, and other galactic dregs felt quite at ease here.
Despite the fact that the Veel sector formally supported the Empire (what remained of it), other than a pair of Carrack-class light patrol cruisers, Imperial presence here was not noticed in the literal sense of the word.
And now, watching as an entire caravan of Auroras, having emerged from hyperspace at the borders of the Veel sector and territories belonging to the "corpos," darted in all directions, Kalian even found it funny.
You don't see such a sight every day.
Zygerrian slave ships, under the guard of all the Imperial ships present in the Veel sector.
Yes, both Carracks were here.
And now they were darting about like cornered animals, along with their "charges," not understanding what was happening.
While Kalian, and the entire crew of the Steel Aurora and five other Victory-III-class Destroyers supported by two mine-sweeping cruisers and eight Crusader-II-class support corvettes, having surrounded the enemy in a "bowl" formation and pressed them against the minefield borders, could enjoy the picture.
Two dozen enemy ships scurried about, unable to understand the reason why Dominion guns and missiles were raining fire on them.
The Zygerrians tried to flee, but they were pursued and forced back into the "pen" by pairs of TIE Interceptors and corvettes.
The enemy, from among those who rushed forward, away from the Dominion ships' formation in the hope of escaping the deleterious influence of artificial gravity, did not achieve their goals.
The corvettes, like guard animals, herded the flock of banthas back into the improvised "pen."
"Sir, the Aspiration and the Steadfast report the disabling of both Carracks," the watch officer reported.
"Good," Kalian nodded. "Has their commander been found?"
"Not on board, sir," the lieutenant smirked crookedly. "Tried to escape in a modernized TIE fighter. Interceptors shot him down. They're dragging him into the hangar now, after first shelling him with an ion cannon."
"Bring him to me immediately after you extract the pilot from the 'eye'," Kalian ordered.
Yes, TIE series machines were called "eyeballs" for a reason.
Their cockpit really does look like a sentient's eye.
While his order was being executed, Kalian continued to watch the slaughter his subordinates were carrying out.
No, they weren't destroying the Zygerrians' starships with homing anti-ship missiles.
Though they very much wanted to.
It would have been much less bother that way.
But the fact remained.
On board each of these Aurora-type ships—at least one and a half, and possibly near two hundred slaves.
According to intelligence, all of them had been captured by Zygerrian slavers, after which they had been appropriately "trained" and were to be delivered to the Corporate Sector.
It was there that they, submissive and ready to die on their masters' orders, were to be "set to work."
The Veel sector forces were supposed to provide cover for the caravan throughout the journey.
It occurred to one of the Zygerrians that since connection with the HoloNet servers had vanished, this might put the transport at risk.
And they "turned for help" to the local ruler, a puppet of the Zann Consortium just like many others…
Steps and dissatisfied grumbling sounded behind him.
Kalian turned toward the source of the sounds.
A pair of guards, gleaming in mirror-polished black-red armor, having caught a short, plump man in a worn Imperial uniform by the arms, unceremoniously dragged him to the central platform where Kalian stood frozen.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" the little man squeaked, seeing the Steel Aurora's commander before him and correctly identifying him as the commander of the entire Dominion Star Destroyer task force. "I am an Imperial Moff! I order you to submit!"
"You're dirt under fingernails, not an Imperial Moff," Kalian calmly set priorities, eyeing the man with a contemptuous gaze.
"I… Well you… just what do you think you're doing, Captain?!" the little man puffed with importance. "I have only to turn to Orinda and you'll be demoted to a cabin boy responsible for cleaning the heads!"
"MSE droids handle that," Kalian clarified calmly. "But Orinda won't help you. And furthermore, you won't be turning there."
The man, squinting his bead-like eyes, finally saw the patch with a golden gear on the Steel Aurora commander's shoulder.
"The Dominion?!" his eyes widened to such an extent they were about to pop out of their orbits. "This is war! You have invaded Imperial affairs! As soon as the Imperial Ruling Council learns that you have attacked our transport caravan, you will be destroyed."
Kalian calmly pointed to the holoprojector.
"Go ahead," he suggested. "Make contact."
"Are you mocking me?!" the man hissed. "The HoloNet isn't working."
"Even if it were, you wouldn't do it," Kalian said. "You haven't contacted Orinda once in recent years. Oh, you sent them pittance taxes in amounts where the Imperial Ruling Council wouldn't pay attention to what's happening here. Just like the other Moffs in territories close to the Corporate Sector. Because," Kalian nodded toward the command rank bar on the Moff's fat chest, "though you wear Imperial insignia, an Imperial uniform, you have long served another master."
"What are you even talking about?" the Moff shook, crying out and turning his head. "What is this?! What's with the needle?! Are you going to kill me?"
"Don't worry," Kalian advised. "They just took a blood sample, they didn't inject poison into you."
"And why do you need my blood?!" the panic on the Moff's face was gradually passing.
But too quickly for one who is playing the coward.
"We'll give it to the medics, they'll do a DNA test," Kalian continued as if nothing had happened. "And we'll find out if you're a traitor by nature, or just a brainwashed clone."
"What do you…" the Moff literally hung on the guards' arms, "… think you're doing, Captain?..."
"As I already said, they took a blood sample," Kalian reminded. "But, at the same time, they injected a neurotoxin that paralyzes the contraction of your muscular frame and dulls nerve endings. You feel your body going numb and the tingling starting, don't you?"
The fat Moff's eyes shot to Kalian.
Murderous intent was read in them.
The Steel Aurora's commander approached the prisoner, took him by the chin, and turned his head to watch the dilating pupils.
"Yes, working as intended," he commented. "Well, we have another way to disable Zann's lackeys. Otherwise, counter-intelligence is saddened by the fact that you bite your tongues or poison yourselves. And you would have poisoned yourself," Kalian commented on the actions of one of the guards, who reached into the "Moff's" mouth with his fingers and removed a pair of teeth with a metal capsule inside. Strong, nothing to say. "Poison capsules, as sure as eggs are eggs. No analysis needed—it's clear anyway, clone. Actually, I didn't doubt who you really are. It was enough just to read the intelligence reports and understand what you've turned your sector into."
Kalian turned away from the Moff, hands behind his back.
"Ensuring the safety of Zygerrian slavers so they can unhindered deliver sentients who have passed their 'training' to the Zann Consortium's holdings," he listed, watching his ships shoot out the Zygerrians' engines and then board them. "How many sentients in this caravan? Fifteen hundred? Two thousand? I assume your masters planned to shove them all into the cockpits of Zann Consortium fighters,"—at least that's what Dominion Intelligence data said.—"You've had problems with pilots and ships lately. I suspect that whatever remained of your sector fleet that Orinda didn't snatch for itself, you handed over to Zann after you were replaced by a clone. Only pity for the crews…"
Kalian was silent, watching as new landing shuttles docked in place of some departing from damaged ships.
That meant the procedure of moving slaves to Dominion ships was already in full swing.
Later, the once-rightless captives would be handed over to counter-intelligence, which would conduct explanatory work with them and assess the possible degree of threat each sentient posed to the Dominion.
The Dominion Security Service leadership would decide individually whether to allow them to become residents and potentially citizens of the new state.
And the DSS would also answer for its mistakes if a deep-cover agent or terrorist were sent into the Dominion under the guise of a loyal resident.
Every Dominion resident's and citizen's personal file has a mark of the identity of the officer who approved their border crossing.
Personal responsibility for every mistake.
Due motivation for every refusal.
Which, if deemed implausible by higher-ranking officers, would become grounds for claims against the screener himself.
"You have much to answer for, Moff," Kalian said. "For recruiting xenophobes from Draethos into your armed forces, thanks to which you conducted punitive expeditions throughout the sector and enslaved other species and handed them to Zann as 'cannon fodder.' For organizing the mass export of figured stone—Beta Olykaak's chief value and main export item, leaving local residents to die of hunger. For the death camp on Azarak IV, where you executed everyone who tried to raise an uprising against the Zann Consortium. For restoring the 'Corus Boys' gang of mercenaries and thugs, who became your punitive squad with a base in the eponymous system. For organizing weapon production for the Zann Consortium on the planet Dra III at the Kell Corporation base. For looting Imperial arsenals, which you handed to Tyber Zann and his henchmen. For enslaving the population of the planet Lafra. The only thing you aren't guilty of, 'Moff,' is the Imperial attack on Corporan, when ninety thousand refugees were destroyed. Yes, your original gave the order, which only proves you are as much of a bastard as the donor. Actually, each of these deeds would be enough for a firing squad," Kalian looked at the immobile "Moff," "but you can be sure of one thing: you won't end your life's journey so easily. The Dominion will call you and your accomplices to account. By the way, if I remember correctly, they were supposed to have sent a new convoy for new slaves to Zygerria, weren't they?"
The "Moff's" gaze was more eloquent than words.
"Yes, our intelligence worked hard," the Steel Aurora commander answered the unspoken question. "All your papers, chips, secret correspondence—have long been no secret. Just like the schedule of slave caravan movement. I regret only one thing—we were able to intercept only one of them. Но this is only the beginning, Moff. All hyperspace routes connecting the Veel sectors with Zygerria are under the control of Dominion ships. Every accomplice of yours will be hunted down, identified, and brought to trial. And then—sent to the Kessel mines, where energy spiders will turn them into good spice. Which will then go to medical facilities and become part of medicines. Whose purpose—is to save lives, not destroy them. A curious twist of fate, 'Moff.' You and your accomplices destroyed sentients' lives. And soon you will become part of what will save them."
Kalian looked at his chronometer.
"Well, if your partners stick to the schedule, they'll be here very soon… Oh," far ahead of the Dominion ships' positions, starships appeared, pulled from hyperspace by the gravity wells of the asteroid stations placed here in the past. "Your accomplices have arrived, 'Moff.'"
A crooked but nonetheless triumphant smile appeared on the Steel Aurora commander's face.
"Watch what becomes of them," he turned to the "Moff," urging him to pay attention to the fate of more than twenty ships—Zygerrian slave ships. "They're very unlucky that there isn't a single slave on board. But, on the other hand, there are mines."
The immobile "Moff" could only watch as the Zygerrian slavers, finding themselves in the middle of an artificial gravity zone, discover that besides this they have self-propelled magnetic mines at their side.
Kalian also gave this spectacle a few seconds.
He saw nothing new in the distant detonations of enemy starships.
After all, minefields are thick and generously scattered for many dozens of standard units on every hyperspace route leading from the Corporate Sector.
And enemy ships blow up there regularly.
No matter how hard the Zann Consortium tried to pull fleets from satellite sectors for its defense, or, conversely, send them any help, not one will pass.
All will remain here as heaps of scrap metal.
Captain Kalian's task, and that of several other units, is only to timely intercept slave ships and replenish the integrity of mine positions and gravity barriers.
The Zann Consortium didn't understand what beast they woke, having recently attacked the Dominion… Well, now let them scoop up the consequences by the bucketful.
In an impenetrable blockade.
***
After Agent Bravo-Eleven finished his detailed report, absolute silence reigned in my apartments.
It seemed as if even Lieutenant Colonel Tierce, who was in the room and still pale after his stay in the bacta tank, had stopped breathing.
Captain Pellaeon and Mara Jade also expressed no difference between life and stone statues.
To say nothing of Sergius.
As always—collected, calm, circumspect.
"Thank you, Agent," I said. "The information you provided is incredibly valuable."
"Request permission to withdraw, sir?" he inquired.
"You are dismissed," I confirmed.
As soon as the agent left the apartments, those present seemed to hear a command from a children's game.
Or perhaps the signal was the arrival of R7, who delivered a cage with an ysalamiri into our surroundings.
Since Jade had done all she could to check the agent, there was no longer any point in exposing ourselves to the unnecessary danger of "lighting up in the Force."
The "thaw" was realized not only in the appearance of emotions, but in a stormy reaction regarding the agent's words.
"You decided to interrogate him to check if he's lying?" Jade clarified, examining me closely.
"He's not lying," I assured her.
"Silri could have turned him," Tierce said hollowly.
Looks like he still hadn't recovered from the battle with the Inquisitors.
Which, like the confrontation with Urai Fen, cost him and his subordinates too much.
"In determining that, we needed the Hand's presence," I nodded toward Mara. "What say you?"
The red-haired beast shrugged.
Looks like she's slightly upset that she was invited not for the promised private conversation.
Doesn't matter, she'll endure.
She's not a child.
Business—is more important.
"At the very least I don't feel a threat from him," she admitted. "But I also don't guarantee he's loyal to the Dominion."
"At minimum he isn't a clone," Pellaeon noted. "DNA analysis showed it's the same agent who went on the mission."
"Silri wants us to believe her," I said. "After her sabotage attempt, in whose implementation she is certain thanks to Agent Bravo-Eleven's play, she decided to propose an agreement."
"Most likely she counted on us grasping at the opportunity to continue cloning," Lieutenant Colonel Tierce spoke up. "If she believed our cloning cylinders were destroyed, of course. From the agent's story, the impression of her as a trusting person doesn't form."
"Undoubtedly this offer—is also a test," I said. "Silri recognized Bravo-Eleven as an Ubiqtorate agent almost immediately. And didn't believe his 'cover'."
Actually, no paranoid subject would trust someone who came to be hired by you under one guise, and, being caught lying and collaborating with the most dangerous special service in the galaxy, said he was supposedly one of the "formers."
There are no "former" Ubiqtorate men.
And the fact that Sergius himself took an active part in the work against the Zann Consortium, which Silri served, didn't add to her trust either.
The story that Silri's diversion supposedly succeeded, and with Lady Jasha's help at least some Dominion leadership was poisoned, and "Spaarti cloning cylinders" from the batch discovered on Cartao were blown up, might have worked.
If Silri had received confirmation of Drasha's mission from a more reliable source than Sergius.
"Silri cannot know about the Spaarti cloning cylinders from Mount Tantiss," Grodin stated.
"Judging by her story, Zann obtained data on the Emperor's storehouses," Pellaeon countered.
"Probably the conversation was about the Imperial Palace in the Corporate Sector," Mara suggested. "Because seeing Zann's craving for other people's things, it becomes strange that he didn't lay a hand on Wayland."
"Perhaps he tried," was Grodin's answer. "Whom exactly C'baoth's clone killed we still haven't established."
Not a meaningless idea.
"I doubt the death of a few agents would have stopped him," Mara grimaced. "No, most likely Palpatine kept Wayland's coordinates either in his head or—not on the Eclipse. He wasn't one for putting all his chicks in one nest."
And here too one cannot but agree.
The creation of Byss and the accumulation of the armada in secret from the Empire fully confirms this.
"In any case, only three days remain to give an answer," Pellaeon reminded. "And use the coordinates from the chip Silri gave the agent."
Yes…
The chip that appeared in her hand in the green flame of Dathomiri magic.
You can consider me over-cautious, but I preferred that this information carrier be copied onto a deck devoid of access to any network.
The chip itself was moved to Kessel and delivered by shuttle to an arbitrary point in space in a neutral sector.
With a little "surprise" in case the technicians were wrong and there is a tracking device in it after all.
Or it can be tracked using Dathomiri magic or some other way unknown to us.
In any case, except on the Vengeance, this chip did not move onto ships of Imperial design.
Except for the shuttle.
"It should not be overlooked that Silri is testing us," I said. "Furthermore, what we say is not as important. She is tracking our reaction. If she intends to check whether Lady Drasha actually harmed us, then the cloning offer has more than one bottom."
"No self-respecting warlord will collaborate with one who destroyed his strategic objects and poisoned his commanders," Tierce agreed.
"The Dominion definitely wouldn't," Pellaeon agreed. "At minimum—my donor. In the current circumstances, when only cloning cylinders are lost and sentients are poisoned, high-ranking as they are—he wouldn't. He would use options to the last."
Correct assessment.
That was exactly how the real Pellaeon acted in the Expanded Universe events known to me.
Even without cloning cylinders, after the death of Thrawn and all the Imperial warlords, he resisted the New Republic exactly as long as there was still a possibility to do so.
"On the other hand, if we agree to her offer to provide specialists and allow her to clone them, then we will be vulnerable," I said. "Yes, it could partly show her that we are in despair and have lost our source of clone supply. However, the threat is elsewhere."
"She demands supplies of ysalamiri and our specialists," Grodin recalled. "It's a trap."
"Naturally," I agreed. "Her whole offer—is a trap. But in this case she wants to get our specialists, whom she can clone for herself. Not to mention that providing her with ysalamiri will allow Silri to use them to accelerate cloning not just of supposedly our soldiers."
"No one can guarantee she won't slaughter our soldiers to get the ysalamiri," Mara put forward a version.
"She won't kill them," I dissuaded her. "She'll clone them. Но she'll program them to obey her orders. After which she'll give the order—and they'll turn against us in an instant…"—"Like the clones against the Jedi," the Guardian's commander grimaced.
"Yes."
A perfect Trojan horse.
Elegant, just what your enemies need.
And it will strike exactly in the back.
A million, two, three, ten such traitors in the Dominion's rear, on ships, at planetary defense objects, at protective stations, on the "Perimeter"—and the defense will fall as if it never existed.
Typical Dathomiri Night Sister elegance and treachery, brought to the absolute.
But, capable of working only if she considers us incompetent idiots.
And this leads to certain thoughts.
Likely Silri hopes that the poison in Lady Darash's horns destroyed the cleverest of the Dominion's commanders.
And the latter in despair will rush to her for help and silently swallow the deadly bait.
"Only an idiot wouldn't see this trap," Mara snorted.
On the other hand, I'd like to know who thought of this before I voiced such a line of behavior for Silri.
"Silri does not intend to divide the galaxy," I said. "Her plan has not changed—she intends to use our hands to destroy the Zann Consortium, and after that—strike at the Dominion itself."
Actually, she didn't hide this when at the start of her conversation with Sergius she told him she wanted to have it all.
Including—"Colliding the Dominion with the Zann Consortium or the Alliance and warding them off the galactic east while my army and fleet are prepared."
Moreover, Silri directly told the agent that "killing their leadership with nerve gas didn't work," it's required to "decapitate the Dominion now."
Consequently, she doesn't believe in Drasha's success.
And this once again confirms her disbelief in Sergius's story that the poison worked.
Which means Silri is playing with us.
And doing it so haughtily as to show us that she controls the situation, and nothing remains but to agree with her.
Typical demonstration of dominance from a Night Sister.
Their culture gives a direct answer to what power should be: demonstrative.
Subordinates must know that no other option is provided for them—only to serve.
"How sure can we be that there are no agents of hers among our fighters?" Mara inquired. "After all, she managed to learn of Organa-Solo's pregnancy before the mother herself."
"Sure as our capabilities allow," I answered, thinking over what was said.
Absolute security doesn't exist.
Whatever the counter-intelligence service, there will always be someone cleverer than our specialists.
It's not for nothing our DSS has a huge network of agents watching those who have crossed our border and begun to reside in our territories.
"I'd worry that Silri hinted at interest in Solo's third child," Mara uttered. "Given that she knows of Palpatine's survival, this could say much."
And, considering that Palpatine in the events known to me, tried precisely to move into little Anakin Solo's body after his clones' death, exactly the third child of the legendary couple, it becomes very uncomfortable.
There were generally many problems with the Solo children.
They were kidnapped more than once, recruited, turned against the New Republic and the family…
Yes, there might be a few problems from them in the hypothetical future.
But what else to expect from parents who first saved the galaxy and only then thought about raising children?
To me, the story that happened to the Solo twins—Jaina and Jacen—on the pages of the Jedi Academy trilogy in the Expanded Universe is extremely noteworthy.
There the kids loved and welcomed Winter—Organa-Solo's assistant—more, obeying her and perceiving her more than the mother herself.
In any case, whom else should children obey when their mother and father are eternally carried across the galaxy, and only a nanny is nearby?
The stake is quite interesting…
Quite.
"Are you suggesting taking the Solos under protection?" Captain Pellaeon inquired.
"I suggest noting that Silri did not at all accidentally point out that she knows more than Organa-Solo herself," Mara snapped. "Her hints are not hints at all. She all but directly tells us she knows and can do much more than we do."
"No one is perfect," I said conciliatorily. "Our agents are busy with their tasks. Silri's agents—with theirs. Their success—is not always our failure. Furthermore, we still haven't received sufficient confirmation of Organa-Solo's new pregnancy."
"And what reason has Silri to lie?" Mara was surprised.
"Offhand I can name eighteen assumptions," I reported, looking intently at the girl. "But discussing someone else's personal life is not the subject of the present meeting."
"One way or another, we've seen what Vader's spawn can do," Mara shuddered. "And if they grow three more such rugrats who will blow up our battle stations in a heartbeat…"
"Do not exaggerate," Pellaeon asked. "They are just children."
"And Luke Skywalker first sat at a starfighter's controls and in his first flight did in a million Imperial military personnel and a huge heap of Imperial taxes," Jade countered. "I'll just remind you that we have a headquarters very similar to a Death Star. Not hinting at anything, but there is an assumption that if these kids grow up in such a family, in about eighteen years they might, by old family tradition, launch a pair of proton torpedoes into our headquarters' cooling shaft…"
Now that was a rather subtle jibe.
"Enough," I ordered. "You, Hand, should be asking more about what kind of holocron Silri obtained. And what exactly she got from it. How she's capable of applying it. Given what our Jensaarai acquired from materials found on Ossus, it's quite logical to assume our opponent has something special too."
Of everyone present, I knew at least part of what Silri now has at her disposal after obtaining the holocron Tyber Zann "fussed with" and its use.
In the cinematic for the strategy game's second part, Silri landed on an unknown asteroid and used the holocron as a key to a certain base's systems.
In whose depths hundreds, if not thousands, of fighters frozen in carbonite were located.
Quite a giant reference to Han Solo's misadventures at the end of the fifth and start of the sixth episodes of the original film trilogy.
"Can a holocron be so dangerous?" Pellaeon did not express doubt in my words.
He really didn't know what could be so critically important in something resembling a house decoration bauble…—"Yes," Mara admitted reluctantly. "In the holocron currently used for training the Jensaarai Order there are many techniques that even the old Jedi Order didn't know. In a Sith holocron there could be anything. From star-explosion techniques to a methodology for mass mind control. Some ancient superweapon… Moreover Silri spoke of some map in the holocron. It's possible there's nothing valuable in the device itself except this route. But at its end there could be anything at all. Up to… I've already outlined the prospects. I see no point in repeating myself. But, my opinion—any holocron not in our hands is a potential weapon of mass destruction. If Skywalker had one—he'd have already trained a Jedi army. Fey'lya—too. In short, it's big-big trouble."
Though Mara's explanation came out rambling, I agreed with it.
Not just because I knew more than them.
But because I understood from experience studying this universe that they don't store just any secrets on holocrons.
Especially—Sith ones.
Every time a Sith holocron surfaced in history—the galaxy had a headache.
Darth Bane alone, who about a thousand years ago dug up Darth Revan's holocron in his time, turned out to be enough for the Jedi Order to cease existing thirty years ago, for the constitutional order of the galaxy's largest state to change, and for Sith power to reign over thousands and thousands of star systems.
"In other words, we could find ourselves in a confrontation with an opponent who possesses a superweapon of a design, characteristics, and area of effect unknown to us?" Tierce's gaze grew stern.
"Yes," Mara nodded. "I very much doubt Sith or Jedi grandmothers' soup recipes are stored in holocrons."
I don't like her "joking" this way.
Of course, a certain degree of sarcasm and black humor is inherent to her, but in the course of this conversation she is "joking" all too "hard."
"However, credit must be given to how Zann managed to lead everyone by the nose and use this holocron for the sake of searching for the Emperor's secrets," Pellaeon said.
Brushing me with his gaze, he probably wanted to get a comment regarding my, that is Mitt'raw'nuruodo's, participation.
"No one is immune to mistakes," I said diplomatically. "At least we have additional confirmation of exactly how Tyber Zann managed to get onto the Eclipse and get resources at his disposal."
"Not to mention that Silri spoke directly about his plan for the Empire's collapse," Mara reminded. "Including—about cloning."
"From which the conclusion can be drawn that she knew about the cloning ones on Smark before she fled the Zann Consortium," Mara drummed her nails on her arm. "Well, now there's no doubt that by making the trap on Cartao, she intended to completely destroy our cloning cylinders that were captured on Smark."
What, did anyone have doubts about Silri's intentions when she sent Drasha to us?
No.
The Spaarti cloning cylinder design is created to have maximum efficiency in a cluster.
Simple logical calculation.
"Rather it proves she had or has spies inside the Zann Consortium at present,"—and that is a correct conclusion.
Straight from Lieutenant Colonel Tierce's mouth.
"Correct," I agreed.
All too "opportunely" Smark's capture led us to Cartao, where we found "cloning cylinders with explosives."
"However, a question arises for me," Pellaeon spoke up. "Silri confirmed what we already learned in the course of the confrontation with the Zann Consortium in the past: they use the Empire's technical flaws. What didn't go into production, deemed unfinished. So why does Zann still use outdated and frankly ineffective ships against us? Clearly, having obtained data capsules after the first Death Star's death, he began forming an initial fleet. But the experience of operation proved the uselessness of his Aggressors, Venoms…"
"Simplicity of construction," I explained. "Ships of this type do not require large financial and other costs. Except for cloaking systems, naturally. Primarily this is connected with the far-from-large number of shipyards that could produce starships of such a type. Of the territories Zann controls—they are a select few."
"Zann hurried to recreate his Consortium and built what was simpler," Mara repeated my own words. "And Silri, as I see it, went a different way."
"Keldabe-class battleship, Crusader-class frigate, improved and refined, stripped of spectacular but ineffective weapons," I commented. "This says she has under her command not just Rothana. Not just production capacities that are not inferior to the best modern shipyards. But also a team of competent shipbuilders or at minimum—engineers who were able to take into account the experience of using ships in the past. They chose the most optimal options and improved them."
"Strange Zann didn't do that," Pellaeon shook his head. "I understand he wanted to revive the organization, but… Everyone considered him dead. Why the hurry? The galaxy is in ruins—build your secret army as long as you like."
"There are several reasons for that," I explained. "Zann knew Silri didn't betray him for nothing. He also realized that Rothana and Kamino had left his control. The conclusions are more than eloquent. He couldn't just take his own back. But he also understood perfectly that soon he would have to return control over the criminal empire with bloodshed. He had the Corporate Sector forces, but that's not enough. Silri would have a clone army by the time of the confrontation. So he made only minimal edits to the projects—added cloaking devices to the Aggressors. In the framework of a first strike on an unprepared opponent—it will work extremely effectively."
"It didn't work with us," Pellaeon noted.
"Rear Admiral I-Gor and his flotilla will not agree with you," I countered, glancing at the Guardian's commander.
"Since Silri's Syndicate was in the shadows, they built their fleet slowly and qualitatively," I continued. "We see the main ship—the Keldabe-II, which is not inferior to the Imperial-II. We see a support ship—the Crusader-II, which can easily act as a scout, pursuer, defender. And there are the Lucrehulks, which she is building on Nimban in Hutt Space."
"The latter—is clearly a military transport for her clone army," Pellaeon determined.
"And the order was given to a third-party contractor because Rothana is busy creating combat starships for the clone army maturing on Kamino," Grodin continued the thought.
"Exactly so," I agreed.
"Wait a minute," Mara waved her hands. "The metal for building the Lucrehulks comes from the Corporate Sector. Through the Zygerrians. If Zann knows where Silri is holed up and that she won't just give up what's conquered, then why is he selling or giving her raw materials for building Lucrehulks?..."—"At some stage he didn't suspect who the buyer was," I explained. "But over time he realized to whom and for what the acquisition of such a large amount of metal was necessary. However, supplies didn't stop because he deemed such a method of industrial espionage as suiting his goals. Having traced the whole chain, he realized the ships would soon be ready. Tyber Zann understood perfectly who the primary target is when redistributing power in the criminal underworld. Hence the desire to gather as much strength as possible in the shortest time—he panicked."
"Meaning he isn't panicking now?"
Jade looked at me with interest.
"To a lesser degree than before," I explained. "He has Cronal. And besides, a fist of sectors in the Tion Cluster isn't being created for nothing."
"Now it's clear for what purpose Zann needed to stage games with the Alliance through Lord Bonteri," Tierce nodded.
"Creating a buffer zone. In the event of Silri's decision to go to war with Zann, doing it via the Perlemian Trade Route and Lianna, the Tanium Worlds—is fastest."
"A bypass route via the Hydian Way could cost them extra time and a potential conflict with us," Pellaeon muttered after my explanation.
"And now she offers an alliance…" Mara said pensively. "If we agree—we'll be fooled, betrayed, and used. If we refuse—a clone army obeying Silri appears near Kessel and Cartao. Which, as it turns out, has both the strength and means to harm us. Not to mention that she has clearly or indirectly found an approach to Fey'lya or someone in his circle. It's likely her agents were the ones who obtained those very details about General Solo's forces moving from Lantilles to Lianna."
An uncomfortable silence hung in the apartments.
Each of those present thought over all that had been said.
Assessed from their point of view.
Analyzed.
And compared the two parts of Agent Bravo-Eleven's story.
At least that's what I was doing.
Everything he saw, heard, and said before arriving on Kamino.
And what he witnessed upon arrival in the Kessel system.
The clone army, the ready Lucrehulks, the desire to destroy Tyber Zann here and now by any means, the words about intentions to set the Dominion against Silri's opponents…
There's something in this.
Something elusive.
Something in the style of the Dathomiri witches themselves, masterfully manipulating the Force and power to suit their ends.
Victory without the opponent being humiliated, crushed, destroyed by the realization of his worthlessness—is not victory.
The art of the Night Sisters speaks of this.
Using the opponent's strong traits against himself.
The weaving of intrigues that can occupy a Night Sister's entire existence and…
Oh.
So that's what it is.
Time.
I'd have even laughed if I weren't afraid of causing suspicion in the sentients in the reception room.
It would even be funny if it weren't so sad.
Time.
That was what was left out of the general equation.
And therefore the picture didn't come together.
"Silri has no clone army," I said.
"What do you mean she doesn't?" Mara Jade's eyebrows shot up. "Sergius saw tens of thousands of incubators, little soldiers marching in armor…"
The red-haired girl broke off.
The threads were starting to weave together.
"There is no clone army," I continued. "Silri simply didn't manage to create it. And she needs our ysalamiri to finish what was started almost six years ago."
"Forgive me, sir, but don't Kaminoan clones take ten years to prepare?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Exactly so," I confirmed.
"Zann obtained control over the planet after the Battle of Yavin, almost ten years ago," the Guardian's commander continued. "Meaning the clones should be either already ready or about to emerge from the incubators."
"Incorrect," Lieutenant Colonel Tierce suddenly said. "Unlike Spaarti cloning cylinders, which create a fully finished clone, the Kaminoans grew their products to the state of newborn children, after which they subjected them to accelerated growth thanks to an enhanced metabolism, then connected them to training and selection processes to check their suitability before delivery to the customer."
"That very fact explains the absence of a large number of adult clones in Tipoca City," I confirmed. "Silri has no clone army that could have been laid down ten years ago by Tyber Zann. If the Kaminoans continue to create clones submissive and loyal to their masters, then that ten-year-old batch clearly could have harmed the Silri Syndicate's interests. No one wants a repetition of Order Sixty-Six. Therefore, Silri destroyed the first-generation clones. What Tyber Zann planned to create for himself—is not suitable for Silri. For the same reasons it is deadly dangerous for the Dominion to get clones produced on Kamino. We don't know to whom exactly they will be loyal."
"You mean she's planned all this for the sake of our little lizards?" Mara looked at the lazy representative of the ysalamiri species, who with a contented look, as if approving the train of thought, chewed grass in its cage.
"Silri knows about the ysalamiri. Knows that they are in a state to accelerate clone growth. And she directly says that she needs our lizards for use in such a way," I said. "But not to accelerate the growth of those child-clones we saw. And not even to accelerate the growth of new clones to the five-year level, of which she has many now."
"And in what other way can she use them?" Captain Pellaeon didn't understand what was happening.
"Simple math, Captain," I told him. "A Spaarti cloning cylinder will produce a fully battle-capable clone in one year. Three hundred and sixty-five standard days."
"Kamino needs ten years to create a fully battle-capable clone," I continued. "But, thanks to Lieutenant Colonel Tierce's correct observation, we avoided an error of interpretation. The Kaminoans do not grow a clone for ten years. They create an accelerated-growth human and take him out of the tube, after which he grows like an ordinary infant, only twice as fast."
"Then why does Silri need ysalamiri at all?" Mara was surprised. "They influence clone growth in incubators, don't they…"
"We know that experiments in creating adult clones have already been conducted on Kamino," I said. "X2, who has already flashed on the screen, the brother of the late X1, a clone of Jedi Knight Falon Grey. Galen Marek's clone, produced by Vader's order on Kamino… Furthermore, the pirate captured after the failed kidnapping also said he didn't just kidnap, but returned aristocrats and officers. Some—after a few weeks. Some—only after half a year or a roughly equal period."
"Forgive me, sir, but I'll express the general opinion by saying we don't understand where you're going with this," Pellaeon admitted.
He had first exchanged glances with the other two.
"Time," I reminded. "Using ysalamiri, we reduced clone production time in Spaarti incubators from three hundred and sixty-five days to fifteen. This means that with ysalamiri the cloning process is in a state to accelerate twenty-four times."
"So that's what she wants," understanding of my words appeared on Lieutenant Colonel Tierce's face… spoken and unspoken.
"Could it be explained for those who didn't understand the significant hints?" Jade asked.
Captain Pellaeon nodded gratefully to the girl for voicing his position too.
"The Kaminoans do not create fully finished clones in their incubators because that would mean loading the cloning cylinders for ten years," I explained. "Plus the time for their training is also great. In total, the client would get his products not in five years, but say in an arbitrary fifteen. Too great a cost. They cloned one batch, got child-clones, after which they moved to their cultivation using ordinary methods of raising sentient species. While other clones already occupied their places in the incubators."
"Two hundred thousand units are already ready and another million are on the way," I recalled Lama Su's words to Obi-Wan Kenobi in the second episode of the prequel trilogy.
On the way in the literal sense.
A human child matures in ten months.
With a doubled metabolism this term is reduced to four and a half.
And in an arbitrary five months a second stage of clone production can begin.
And in another five—another one.
And so on.
Throughout ten years.
That's why the Grand Army of the Republic received reinforcements from Kamino throughout the Clone Wars!
Because starting from the thirty-second year before the Battle of Yavin, every half year the Kaminoans laid down new and new batches of clones.
And every half year they got a new troop group.
The Kaminoan uprising, which was the reason for ending clone production for the Empire, occurred twelve years before the Battle of Yavin.
And after that, Jango Fett's clones, as well as other copies of humans, were no longer produced on Kamino.
Because the Empire began phasing out the cloning program almost immediately after the Clone Wars' completion.
Why spend billions (if not more) of credits on outfitting a clone army if your recruitment offices are bursting with volunteers, and a recruitment campaign across the galaxy in an instant can put trillions of fighters under arms?
Comparative analysis shows that a stormtrooper trained in half a year is little inferior to a Kaminoan clone produced over ten years.
And if there's no great difference, then why pay more, wait longer?
Given that Jango Fett's cloning began thirty-two years before the Battle of Yavin and ended—twelve before, we get a time mark of twenty years.
Twenty years!
In such a time trillions of clones could have been produced—but most of them died as a result of combat actions.
And new and new ones replaced the fallen.
If the Kaminoans had held their clones in incubators for ten years, and then also trained them for an arbitrary five years, then the CIS droid armada would have crushed the Grand Army of the Republic.
After all, in better times the Separatists produced their combat mechanical soldiers in truly indecent numbers.
And one could only wonder why the Republic didn't lose immediately. Having a limited military contingent and such large time frames for producing one clone.
In my time the opinion existed that this happened because Palpatine played for both sides and didn't allow the CIS to win, manipulating the Separatists through Count Dooku.
But that is only a half-truth.
Had the Republic had problems with an army replenishment source, were there such great time costs for clone production, then even the stupidest Separatist would have asked Dooku: "Why can't we, with trillions of battle droids, defeat the Republic, which has billions of clones? Maybe our Count doesn't want victory for us?"
At the same time, I assume that with hundreds of factories producing battle droids, the figure of "trillions of droids" for the CIS was very approximate.
It will be most correct to speak of the droid army's strength on far larger scales.
The Republic won because it had regular clone replenishments.
That was why there were Jedi on Kamino, who watched the fighters' training throughout the Clone Wars.
Their "graduation" happened regularly!
Arbitrarily—every half year.
"Since they created fully finished clones of Galen Marek, Vader's apprentice, in not at all ten years," Mara said, "it means their donor-memory implantation technologies work. And the procedure for cloning an adult fighter is reduced to an arbitrary year."
"Yes," I agreed. "But the clones in such a case will be unstable. However, I assume Tyber Zann became interested in exactly this technology. And also—tried it on some of his clones to replace kidnapped influential persons. But, knowing about the ysalamiri he used several years ago in the Zann Consortium forces, he surely applied the lizards for the same thing we did—to accelerate clone creation."
"A clone that can be grown in a Kaminoan incubator, the most perfect at present, in less than ten years, a newest training system that makes the clone sufficiently competent after his 'birth'," Tierce listed. "And ysalamiri, which can accelerate the cloning process twenty-four times…"
Another silence hung.
"Reducing ten standard years twenty-four times," Mara whispered. "It comes out to a hundred and fifty-two days…"
The girl fell silent, but it was clear from her rounded eyes that she was impressed.
"Or just over four standard months," I simplified the calculations. "A few weeks for preparation, practicing the necessary skills from memories… And behold, after the proverbial half year, the clone can be returned to the original's place."
"Furthermore, unlike Spaarti, Kaminoan incubators can grow clones of any race," Pellaeon added.
"Exactly so," I agreed. "Which leads us to the thought that any, I repeat, absolutely any government representative belonging to the human race, in any corner of the galaxy, could be a clone. Programmed to do what his master requires."
And it no longer matters to whom exactly he serves: the Zann Consortium or the Silri Syndicate.
The mere fact that he does not serve us is enough.
And that is a very big problem.
I'd even say—a gigantic one.