Nine years, six months, and eleven days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, six months, and eleven days after the Great Resynchronization.
Throughout his service, Commander Dobramu had set foot on the decks of the Imperial Navy's main combat vessels more than once or twice.
Always and everywhere, he saw only one picture — calmness and the measured carrying out of duty.
But the moment his Lambda-class shuttle entered the aperture of the rectangular chute of the Imperious's main hangar, flying past the belly of the triangular giant of a CR90 Corellian corvette frozen on guard, he seemed to feel a threat hanging in the air. A chill ran down his spine.
The Commander, piloting the shuttle himself, cast a glance first left, then right, pondering whether a source of danger might be nearby. But his usual glances revealed nothing unusual. The same even rows of sections, protected by lowered heavy durasteel blast doors, where the squadrons of the Star Destroyer's air wing were housed. Almost all of them were closed, except for the one closest to the wide maw of the main hangar section, designated for the landing of shuttles and other medium-sized vessels.
Akrey couldn't help it; he looked into the unprotected section — left specifically for the duty squadron in case of an operational response to an external threat. But here, in the Konbartista system of the Chykin sector, a few hours' journey from the Milagro system where the interception of the rebel ships was planned, it was quiet. This planet held no significant interest in the eyes of space travelers. That's why it had been chosen as the meeting point for the task force. Or perhaps because, sometime in this system, Republican commandos from Delta Squad had torn an Acclamator-class assault ship with the resonant name Prosecutor from the clutches of Trandoshan mercenaries and slavers.
The glossy black deck, polished to a mirror shine so that looking at it, one wouldn't be ashamed to shave — the reflection was perfectly clear. Dobramu thought enviously that his own technicians and hangar crew had clearly let things slide — there wasn't the slightest unnecessary detail on the deck of the Imperial Star Destroyer's hangar section that wasn't stipulated by technical service regulations.
Dotted lines of lighting fixtures, rising from the deck to the ceiling, filling the hangar section's space with radiation that dispelled the darkness.
Brackets hanging from the ceiling like predatory metal manipulators, holding a dozen TIE fighters in a suspended state. Walkways passing behind the machines' hulls, used by pilots to reach the cockpits of their "eyeballs," as these machines were jokingly called in the fleet for their cockpit shape and large canopy area. Everything as usual — these little ones only descended to the deck for operational maintenance. For repairing damaged ships, the ISD had its own workshop, located near the main hangar, but in the forward part of the ship.
Akrey genuinely pitied the pilots of TIE craft, who, several times a standard day, had to both park their machines into these manipulators and launch from them. What a jeweler one had to be to land a sizable machine after the heat of battle or a sortie into a strictly outlined space on the deck, so that the manipulator's claw, which had zero tolerance for correcting spatial position, could lift the machine to the ceiling!
It was a pity, a great pity, that these guys with their developed depth perception died so quickly...
The ISD hangar (and method of arranging TIE fighters in the section).
Akrey managed to note that all twelve TIE fighters were on their suspension mounts, and the section itself was deserted — only duty technicians were pottering about in the corners.
The Commander adjusted his shuttle's course, allowing it to touch the deck of a spacious section located at the end of the rectangular doors of the Star Destroyer's hangar.
Just like in the small craft section, perfect, almost exemplary cleanliness reigned here. As if the ship had been scrubbed clean by cleaning droids before being handed over to Imperial servicemen. Astonishing exemplary cleanliness! Something like this would have been hard to imagine even during the heyday of the Galactic Empire, let alone nowadays... Was this really an operational reconnaissance point, or had someone clearly decided to hold a parade? If so, why hadn't anyone told his ships about it? They were currently loitering near Milagro waiting for the rebels and their smuggler buddies...
The main hangar section of the ISD.
A feeling of heightened danger, of some unreal threat, hung in the air. Akrey was already starting to think this ship had been captured, but the stormtrooper squads and crew members, each busy with their own tasks, had a calming effect. As if, aboard this Imperial Star Destroyer, he had once again plunged into the years of the Galactic Empire's greatness, when everything was simple and clear — enemies on one side, allies on the other... And there was none of this chaos with hide-and-seek across the galaxy. But now, it was frankly even shameful — an Imperial battle group was forced to hide in sparsely populated systems, like thieves waiting for the owners to finally deign to get out of their house...
Shutting down the engine and other systems, Commander Dobramu left the shuttle's cockpit, heading towards the lowered ramp of the transport. He cast a glance at the semi-civilian vessel resting on its landing struts, parked nearby. Hmm... besides the Corellian corvette, there was also an armored Gozanti-class transport docked nearby. And some oversized fighter, more resembling a military-grade atmospheric glider. The design was vaguely familiar... Nabooan, maybe?
Though, what difference did it make? He had been summoned to a meeting of the commanders of the groups participating in the ambush. He, along with the crew of his medium Strike-class cruiser, proudly named the Striker, would need to carry out orders as part of a small but strong detachment of Imperial ships. And the details of the order would only be communicated aboard the Star Destroyer.
Where he was already expected.
A young — about twenty, no more — ensign with a face frozen in a mask of cold courtesy. As if he were doing the senior officer a great favor by even speaking to him at all... No, the spirit of the Imperial Navy was definitely being maintained on this ship!
"Commander Dobramu, — the junior officer addressed him. — Captain Shohashi is expecting you in the duty squadron briefing room. You are ordered to report immediately.
"Shohashi... Shohashi... That sounds familiar..." flashed through Akrey's mind.
In the Imperial Armed Forces, there was no practice of knowing by name the commanders of ships you served alongside in the same fleet — professional ethics dictated the opposite. No, a ship's commander was obliged to know his subordinates — at least by name — but possessing information about who commanded a neighboring ship maneuvering alongside, if that data wasn't part of your assigned task, wasn't just discouraged, but was punishable. Information was classified, after all.
These days, young officers who, due to a personnel shortage, had found themselves on the bridges of large combat vessels, were no strangers to meeting and sharing a couple of shots of smuggled Corellian whiskey or aged Vyrren with each other. But as for the "old guard."..
Try, even a couple of months before the Battle of Endor, to inquire about the identity of another ship's commander, and within an hour (at most), a Fleet Security Bureau officer would knock on your cabin door, smile sweetly and trustingly, and ask in an insinuating tone: "And what, precisely, is your purpose in making such inquiries? Planning to betray the Empire, you scoundrel?" And the consequences of such ill-considered actions could be... the most unpredictable.
Surely even Thrawn didn't know the names of his ship commanders by heart. According to the latest data, there were twenty patrol cruisers alone based on Tangrene. And thirty Corellian corvettes... go ahead and try to remember them all.
Then again, they say the grand admiral knows everything. Absolutely everything. Truth or myth — you could never guess.
Without waiting for an answer, the youngster spun over his left shoulder and walked quickly towards the nearest adjoining compartment, leaving Akrey in a state of stupor.
How was he supposed to understand this?! Just turned and left?!
"And I'm supposed to figure out where I need to go myself, obviously, — he muttered, looking around.
From the main section of the Imperial Star Destroyer's hangar, there were several exits. But at least one of them definitely didn't lead where he needed to go — if he now stepped beyond the magnetic field holding in the atmosphere, he would certainly be late for where he needed to arrive as quickly as possible.
Hutt-spawn!? Why should he be the one to "take the fall" for just a pair — a medium cruiser and an interdictor cruiser?! Why couldn't this "briefing" have been conducted via comm-link? Although… yes, probably secrecy protocol. If the enemy detected Imperial transmissions on their territory, a small fleet would definitely show up to investigate. And then the conspiracy would be compromised a little more than completely.
The Imperial armed forces have an unwritten rule for cadets and junior officers. It was established back in the days of the Grand Army of the Republic, but it still captures the deep meaning of the inexperience of young beings facing an unsolvable problem for the first time.
"Our motto is four words: if you don't know, ask someone else." The wording and spelling vary, of course — from one Imperial training institution to another — but the meaning is almost always the same.
In this particular case, the first stormtrooper who came along was more informed than Akrey. The trooper accompanied him to the required compartment, limiting his display of humanity to the fact that he could move and hold a blaster rifle at the ready.
No, the local captain definitely kept his crew in strict accordance with the highest Imperial standards. As if the Battle of Endor had never happened…
When the double doors of the room Akrey needed slid apart, a view of those present and the modest furnishings of the briefing room opened up. Well, if anything, this compartment seemed to migrate from one ship to another. The Striking had a cubbyhole like this too.
A rectangular room — ten meters by five. Rows of identical standard seats, with small tables built into the right armrests. A holographic projector on a small podium — positioned so that the volumetric image it produced was visible to every single being present without exception.
The compartment was clearly designed for a much larger number of trainees, but only three were here now. And only one could reliably be considered human. Logically, he was the one wearing a military uniform… only it wasn't Imperial uniform at all.
The first being was a Zabrak, whose head adorned with bony horns caused a nagging sense of Imperial ideologists' oversight — they had forgotten to hammer into the heads of every single being a simple postulate: non-humans should not behave so independently in the presence of humans. Then again, the New Order was not what it used to be.
The humanoid standing next to him looked more human, but his olive-green skin hinted otherwise. And the pair of monstrous-looking heavy blasters strapped to his back unambiguously suggested that this duo were the very cutthroat pirates Thrawn had dumped on them for reinforcement.
"Commander Dobramu, you are late," a middle-aged man addressed him, striking him with his velvety, insinuating baritone, whose beauty could only be rivaled by his utterly aristocratic appearance. Tall, stately, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, framed by distinguished gray hair and scars on the left side of his face running so close to his eye that one could only marvel that the natural organ of sight had escaped destruction.
But the final touch to this picture was completed by two details: his left hand clasped behind his back and a thin, elegant cane made of expensive Alderaanian wood — a cane on which Captain Eric Shohashi leaned as he stood before the holoprojector. And his fitted tunic with broad shoulders practically screamed that the commander of the Imperious belonged to the Empire's aristocrats… Of which there were not a few in the past. But still, whose uniform was Captain Shohashi wearing? Clearly some planetary security force… But which one!? And why did Thrawn allow this?
Commander of the ISD-1 Imperious, Captain Eric Shohashi.
"I offer my apologies, Captain Shohashi," Akrey said. "Such a thing will not happen again."
"It is in your best interests, Commander, that your words do not contradict your deeds," an unspoken threat sounded in the calm voice of the Imperious's commander. A chill ran down his spine again, reminding his goosebumps what an ice age felt like. "Let us begin the briefing." After these words, Captain Shohashi lost all interest in the young commander of the medium cruiser. Limping, he approached the holoprojector and touched several keys. An image appeared of a painfully familiar star system, in which Dobramu's ships were already located… Captain Shohashi pulled from his tunic pocket a small mechanical watch, attached by a thin chain to a barely noticeable pin on his tunic. With a slight flick of his hand, he opened the front cover of what was clearly an antique chronometer. For a moment, Dobramu thought he saw on the inside of the watch cover an image of a young woman with chiseled aristocratic features. Images stirred in his memory… "According to updated intelligence received from Grand Admiral Thrawn, the target's arrival is scheduled for the end of today. We have ten hours, gentlemen, to organize the ambush properly. Let me remind you — not a single starship should escape our trap. Anyone responsible for failure will be personally executed in front of the formation…"
The last phrase finally cleared the confusion of thoughts in the head of the young commander of the Striking.
He remembered why the name of the Imperious's commander seemed familiar.
Eric "Butcher of Atoa" Shohashi.
A model of ruthlessness. And of Imperial efficiency.
A man so feared by Outer Rim pirates that they preferred to fight to the death if a Star Destroyer under the "Butcher's" command appeared in sensor range. Because with Shohashi, captivity was worse than death. Surrendering to him alive meant experiencing firsthand the truth of the saying: "The living will envy the dead."
The man who, on the orders of future Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, drowned the planet Atoa in blood after Admiral Garosh Tarkin was killed by Atoan rebels.
The man who executed every Alderaanian in his crew after the Battle of Yavin IV. Justice, immediately carried out by captain's authority as soon as the betrayal of Alderaanian Princess Leia Organa became known.
The man who personally threw his own first officer out into space after the officer suggested he defect to Warlord Zsinj's side after Endor.
The man who continued the fight against the rebels under ruthless Imperial laws even after the Emperor's death. He had dozens of destroyed rebel cells to his name, and the mountains of corpses he left behind were so vast they could rival only the garbage dumps of Raxus Prime.
The man who dedicated his life after the Battle of Endor to finding and destroying Imperial ace pilot Baron Soontir Fel.
The man whose death was desired by Ysanne Isard herself… and who failed.
And now, he was closer than ever to capturing someone who was one of the most prominent members of the Rebellion and the New Republic.
Akrey, turning into a listening ear, absorbed everything Captain Shohashi said, feeling his palms grow damp.
It seemed Thrawn had found a very sophisticated way to get rid of the Striking's commander for his blunder at Bpfassh.
The goosebumps on Commander Dobramu's body had made a final decision to migrate anywhere, just not to stay here. Even for them, this was too much.
* * *
"Muscle relaxant delivery stopped. Other medication delivery stopped," the medical droid reported, favoring me with the glow of its photoreceptors. "Drug influence terminated. Patient is in natural sleep and can be awakened at any time."
"Wake him," I ordered, observing Rukh's gray body strapped to the medical cot. Generally, metal restraints for patients were used extremely rarely — despite supply shortages, Imperial medics flatly refused to follow the rule stating that a well-restrained patient didn't need anesthesia.
Although, frankly, you look at this 2-1B surgical droid, and it gets kind of creepy… It looked far too much like a Soviet military version of Elektronika without its skin…
2-1B series medical droid.
Meanwhile, the machine rolled up to the patient and unceremoniously jabbed him with a syringe implanted in its left limb. A second later, the bodyguard opened his eyes and began breathing noisily.
"Adrenaline injection administered," the surgical droid commented on its actions.
"Dismissed," I said.
"As you command," the gleaming humanoid machine rolled to the far part of the medbay.
As soon as the door closed behind 2-1B, sealing off the medical isolation ward for those infected with biological threats (and where else would you hold a potentially disloyal assassin if not in a compartment you could only escape with a turbolaser?), I looked at the bodyguard lying before me.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Rukh."
"And I am glad to see you, our new master," strange, why hadn't I noticed before that Noghri speech sounded like a cat's meow? A very large cat. And that growling…
"That is exactly what I intended to talk about," I rolled a simple metal chair on casters toward me and sat down. I looked him straight in the eyes again. "You were watching my back during my conversation with Mara Jade in the throne room on Tangrene."
"Yes, our new master," he said.
"You fought against the Jedi clone in the throne room on Wayland," I continued.
The Noghri's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He understood where I was going. Quick-witted fellow.
"Yes, our new master."
"So you know that your master Darth Vader has descendants," I stated. "And you even had the opportunity to see one of them."
"That is true, our new master." That title was starting to grate on me. Especially remembering that Rukh hadn't addressed me that way before. Although wait. He hadn't answered me that often.
The difference in the titles the Noghri used when addressing Vader and me was telling. "Master" and "our new master." They didn't call Vader "old master." Not because they were saving words. No. Despite the Emperor's Hand making it clear to them that from a certain point, I was the only one giving them orders, the Noghri had submitted to the Sith Lord's will. Because it was his order. I'd bet the blue of my skin that if Vader showed up now and ordered them to flay me alive, the Noghri would line up to clarify all their master's wishes. Whatever status I had, to the Noghri I was second after Vader. And if I remembered correctly, Vader's children became more important than the original Thrawn to the natives of Honoghr overnight — that's how badly they wanted their master back.
"Who have you already told about this?" I asked. Though I wasn't really expecting the truth.
"All the Matriarchs of the clans on Honoghr know about it, our new master." Somewhere in the back of my mind, a ringing and crashing sound came — the shattered dream of maintaining Noghri loyalty. All my efforts to prevent the natives of Honoghr from meeting the Skywalker couple had now gone to waste. I had outsmarted myself.
"So I take it the Noghri death commando groups working with my operatives across the galaxy are also aware of the situation?" Just a clarification, for safety. What if the universe wasn't so cruel to me, and those scraps of Imperial Intelligence I had wouldn't fall to a backstab from professional assassins.
"Every Noghri in the galaxy knows about this, our new master," Rukh said without taking his eyes off me.
Universe, you're a cruel…
"You're not afraid," I observed. Indeed, Rukh lay relaxed, as if he didn't suspect I was one step away from shooting him in the head with the standard-issue blaster pistol holstered at my belt.
"I have nothing to fear, our new master," the bodyguard declared.
Was the Noghri mocking me?
"If you tell me when your people intend to stab me in the back, I promise I will recall my people and my vengeance will not fall upon the Noghri," a weak attempt, really. But better to make it than to regret not taking every necessary measure to save the lives of my subordinates.
"Our new master?" Rukh's eyes widened so much that I could examine his fundus if I wanted. "I have failed you and I admit it and beg for merciless punishment, but the rest of my kin are still loyal to you. Their loyalty is as unshakeable as your care for us! I beg you, our new master, if my incompetence has caused your doubts, execute me and choose another bodyguard from our people! My death and the disgrace that will fall upon my clan will be a guarantee of excellent service for the rest of the Noghri! You will never doubt us in the future!"
Um… What? Star Wars universe, was this a joke just now?
I clearly didn't understand something… Why was he acting as if nothing had happened? A descendant of the Darth Vader they so adored — whom they would follow through fire and water — hadn't appeared… Or was this some game to distract my attention, then kill me for betrayal…
Stop! Capture that thought!
There! Right there! Right on the surface!
I knew this, but I'd overlooked it!
"How can you vouch for the loyalty of the rest of the Noghri, Rukh?" I inquired. "If you know there is a living descendant of your master Darth Vader in the galaxy?"
"Since you have said so, our new master, then it is so," the bodyguard obediently agreed.
"My words are not the main thing."
"For the Noghri, they are always the main thing, our new master," the native of Honoghr objected.
"Didn't you smell the scent of that clone you fought in the throne room on Wayland?" I inquired. Now the main thing was to choose my words very carefully and guide the flow of the conversation. Very carefully…
"You know about that too, our new master?" could his eyes open even wider with surprise? "Truly, your knowledge knows no bounds, our new master."
"Everything has a limit, Rukh," I said. "Including your loyalty."
"Our new master?" The bodyguard blinked.
"Tell me, Rukh," I addressed him. "What is the basis of the Noghri's devotion to serving the Empire?"
"The Empire has always been kind to us," the bodyguard replied instantly. "Ever since all the vegetation on Honoghr was destroyed by a crashing spaceship, and Darth Vader found us, only the Empire was so generous and open-handed with our people, helping to cleanse our land of weeds and allowing us to cultivate crops in the dead soil. For this help, the Noghri serve the Empire and with great joy and honor send their sons to carry out the will of our new master."
So my memory wasn't failing me.
"Ever since Darth Vader named me your new master, how often have the Noghri dreamed of returning under his command?" I asked.
"Very often, our new master," Rukh looked away. "But after Obroa-Skai, when by your order more provisions began to be sent to Honoghr, and many of our kin serving in the death commando units were returned to the homeland, albeit due to my blunder, our harvests increased. Not by much, but every day we reclaim more space from the kholm-grass. Every Noghri is grateful to you for being so kind to us."
"But my kindness is nothing compared to what Darth Vader did for you, is it?" I clarified.
"Yes, our new master."
"And do the Noghri think they owe something to the offspring of your master Darth Vader?"
"The Matriarchs say that is not so," Rukh said reluctantly. "The young Noghri who sing the praises of our master Darth Vader say we should reveal ourselves to the son of our master Darth Vader and repay him for the kindness his father showed us."
The son… Right… And indeed… During my conversation with Jade, I had used the optimal phrasing regarding Vader's children. I had called only Luke Skywalker his son, and used the term "offspring" collectively. So the Noghri didn't know about Leia Organa Solo and her children. Which meant…
"What do you think, Rukh?" I inquired.
The bodyguard hesitated with his answer.
"I do not share the viewpoint of the young Noghri," he said. "The son of our master Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, should not rest on his father's laurels. Our master Darth Vader did much for the Noghri people and the restoration of Honoghr. But only he and you. On Honoghr, the descendants of outstanding Noghri are honored, but not bowed to. The glory with which our heroes have immortalized themselves in the memory of the other Noghri does not make their offspring heroes. All adult Noghri know this. That is why the Matriarchs are against us contacting the son of our master Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker."
No, universe, you definitely have a twisted sense of humor.
"There is much you do not know, Rukh," I said, feigning a heavy sigh.
"You, our new master, tell me everything I need to know," the bodyguard said.
"Only what I am certain of," I clarified. "Not all knowledge should be revealed immediately, Rukh. Inaccuracy of information is a guarantee of panic and wrong decisions. Wrong decisions have catastrophic consequences."
"You, our new master, cannot make a wrong decision," the bodyguard said with a hint of pride.
"No one is immune to mistakes," I said carefully, watching his reaction. Rukh had already proven to be an extremely quick-witted lad. "Not even I…"
"That cannot be true, our new master!" Rukh said hotly. "If the fact that I reported that news to our Matriarchs has saddened you, execute me! It will be a lesson for all Noghri…"
"We will do without executions, Rukh," I declared. "Everyone can make a mistake. It is not a flaw. Mistakes exist to learn from and not repeat. But delusion and blind faith… Those are something more destructive and disruptive. Do you know that almost thirty years have passed since the ship with the toxic substance crashed on Honoghr and destroyed the planet's fauna?"
"Yes, our new master," Rukh replied.
"Do you remember by whose order the Imperial scientists arrived to decontaminate Honoghr?"
"By the order of our master Darth Vader," the bodyguard said confidently. "It is part of the kindness he showed us — to restore our planet in exchange for us serving him. All Noghri know this sacred covenant."
"And what would happen to someone who told you that your master Darth Vader deceived the Noghri?" I clarified. "And that together with the Empire, he had been deceiving the people of Honoghr from day one in order to gain the Noghri for his complete and undivided use?"
"That liar would be executed by the most terrible execution the Matriarchs of the clans could devise," Rukh hissed promisingly.
"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow. "And the Noghri would not even ask for proof?"
"It is not needed," Rukh said firmly. "All Noghri know how kind our master Darth Vader was to us."
"Despite the fact that he betrayed the Empire and the Emperor?" I clarified, invoking my own words to Mara Jade regarding the true killer of Palpatine at the Battle of Endor.
"If our master Darth Vader did so, then it was a necessity," Rukh said firmly. And there was not a hint of alternative thinking in his voice. "Just as you, our new master, said that the Empire is no longer what you served. The Noghri people will follow you, because if our new master considers it necessary to destroy the Empire, then we must help him with this, without asking questions."
Oh, logic, you merciless bitch.
"In that you are right, Rukh," I said. "Darth Vader always did what was necessary." Suspicion appeared on the Noghri's face. "The Noghri have served me for years. And I have known your history of serving the Empire for years as well. If I had doubts before, now…"
Rukh's body tensed.
"I am certain that Darth Vader deceived the people of Honoghr." The bodyguard flinched, but the metal straps holding him to the hospital cot prevented him from rising, securely pinning him to the bed.
"You yourself said, Rukh, that Darth Vader always did what was necessary," I continued, distorting the bodyguard's words somewhat. A small psychological trick. "My decision to go against the Empire is based in part on the deception by which your master Darth Vader brought the Noghri into his service."
The bodyguard was silent. Though I was sure he was now contemplating his escape plan and a way to kill me.
Such a pity there was no turning back.
"For nearly three decades, the Noghri have faithfully served the Empire, sending their sons on deadly missions in a war that does not concern you at all," I continued. "In three decades, the number of decontamination droids on Honoghr could have already cleared vast spaces of kholm-grass. But that is not what the Empire and Darth Vader needed. He needed perfect assassins in his service. That is why the Empire not only artificially slowed the planet's cleansing — because once Honoghr came back to life, the Noghri would have no reason to continue serving your master Darth Vader."
Rukh snorted angrily. Yes, he had no problem with logic. But the proof…
"Alongside the decontamination droids on Honoghr, scout droids are also operating," I said, providing new information for my bodyguard. "No, you would not notice them, because they are no different from the decontamination droids. No, they were not sent by the Empire. The scout droids were sent by me."
"Our new master is watching the Noghri?" Rukh immediately identified the reason.
"Including that," I admitted. "But first and foremost, the scout droids are gathering data about Honoghr. And monitoring the decontamination droids' work. Before this conversation was supposed to happen, I wanted to be completely certain that I was either right or wrong about Darth Vader's motives. Unfortunately, I was right. What you call kholm-grass is a culture artificially bred by the Empire, which is precisely what continues to destroy all plant life on Honoghr."
"Kholm-grass has always been on our planet," Rukh declared. "Why are you testing my loyalty, our new master?"
"Unfortunately, this is not a test, Rukh," I shook my head. "It's the truth. The Empire has been making fools of the Noghri for nearly thirty years now, forcing them to do what the Empire itself needs. As you already know from my conversation with Mara Jade, you are not the only ones in a similar situation."
Rukh was silent, analyzing what had been said.
"The scout droids confirmed my assumptions and fears," I repeated. "I won't hide it — after this discovery, I feared a knife in the back from the Noghri, from you first of all. After all, for many years the Empire continued to keep you in slavery even when I was your new master. And consequently, not knowing the fact that this was not known to me, you would have placed all responsibility for deceiving the people of Honoghr on me. Therefore, I ordered more food to be delivered to Honoghr — it's the least I can do for your people for all the evil that Darth Vader and the Emperor have done to the Noghri."
Rukh continued to remain silent. In his eyes, distrust swirled into a dangerous cocktail mixed with fury and a desire to kill.
"I don't know how long the decontaminators will need to restore Honoghr to its original state," a small admission based on complete sincerity. "I don't even know yet if it's possible at all. That's why I'm busy searching for a planet for your people. A place where you can live without fearing the Empire's wrath for exposing its deception. Emperor Palpatine is perfectly aware of everything happening in the galaxy. He will soon go to war against the New Republic and those Imperials who prove disloyal to him. As you've already guessed, I'm already on the latter list. The best I can do now is find a planet for the Noghri and help with the relocation, providing you with ships and necessary resources. You've paid too high a price for deception. I cannot give those years back to the Noghri; all I can do is try to make amends for the entire Empire — because no one else will."
"And what in return?" Rukh mewed hoarsely, not taking his eyes off me.
"Nothing," I said. "You are no longer obligated to serve me. If my word means anything to you after everything you've heard, then I promise that not a single ship or officer under my command will harm the Noghri. I can only ask you to contact the clan matriarchs and persuade them not to touch those of my people who are currently carrying out missions alongside Noghri death commando teams. These people are not innocent by nature — we are soldiers and our duty is to fight. And war leads to killing. But they have not committed any crimes against the Noghri people."
"What planet did you find for us, if all the stars are known to the Empire?" Rukh rasped.
"There are many planets in the galaxy whose coordinates are unknown to the Empire, the New Republic, or anyone else," I countered. "As far as I know, some of the death commandos were sent by Darth Vader to search for a planet called Yalara. This world is equipped with a cloaking system that hides it from visual and other detection. I was looking for that planet to give it to you as a place hidden from everyone. There you would be safe from the Empire's wrath. But I still don't know where it is. I can only assume that information about it might be stored in Darth Vader's personal fortress on a planet where the atmosphere consists of acidic formations. But where that is located, I also do not know."
Rukh looked at me with a gaze full of suspicion.
"Immediately after our conversation is concluded, orders will be given for Imperial specialists to leave Honoghr," I said. "Several transport ships will be left on the planet — the freighters we used for covert movement. The ships on which the Noghri death commandos deployed for missions will also remain at your disposal. As will all Imperial equipment present on Honoghr. It's the least I can do for you right now. As soon as we arrive at Tangrene, you will be released," I pointed to the restraint straps. "I'm sorry that I have to keep holding you, but I cannot do otherwise. I want to preserve the lives of my people, and anything could happen to them after you inform the matriarchs of our conversation. I hope you understand — your captivity is a necessary measure. My death at the hands of your righteous anger would put an end to the question of creating a just state from the remnants of the Empire. I'm not asking you for this, but I hope you will understand. On Tangrene, you will be given a ship full of food for the people of Honoghr — one of the large transports at our disposal. I don't expect us to part as good friends, Rukh, but I would not like to see you and other Noghri among my enemies. Believe me, I truly regret that you and your people have been treated this way. I understand your pain, and everything I can do for you — I will do."
The bodyguard continued to remain silent.
He said nothing in response, and I had nothing to say to him.
Maybe I'm doing the wrong thing. Maybe nothing would have happened because the Noghri know about Skywalker. Maybe I wouldn't have had a knife in the back. Maybe...
But today, perhaps for the first time since I ended up in Grand Admiral Thrawn's body, I felt that I was doing a good deed. A truly good one. Not selfless, but then again I'm not a hero.
I have something to lose. And unfortunately, the price of my failure would be too high.
"We likely won't see each other again, Rukh," I said, rising from my chair. Approaching the Noghri, I looked into his eyes. "So I'll say goodbye to you here and now. It was an honor to serve with you and to know that you always had my back. I am very, very sorry that things turned out this way."
I approached the isolation room doors with a heavy heart, but with a clear conscience. At least here...
The door panels hissed open.
"Vjun," the Noghri's mewing voice reached me. Turning my head, I looked at Rukh. The Noghri did not take his eyes off mine.
"Bast Castle, belonging to Darth Vader, is located on a planet called Vjun," he said, looking away.
"Thank you, old friend," I said.
Without saying goodbye, I left the infirmary.
* * *
"A tough guy," said Tyberos, as he, Eymand, and the Imperial whelp approached their ships. "I really felt a kindred spirit in him."
"Hardly," replied the commander... What's his name? Ah, who cares. That pale moth who listened to the entire briefing by Captain Shohashi with a look like he was about to shit his pants.
"His name seems vaguely familiar to me," said Eymand, addressing no one. "Something like..."
"Atoa," the Imperial said shortly, glancing toward his shuttle.
Tyberos wanted to ask what that little planet of a human-like race without hearts from the Ghost Nebula had to do with anything, and then he understood...
.".." the privateer unleashed a single-breath string of profanity about the harsh fate of those who dared to raise a rebellion against the Empire on a single planet called Atoa.
"Don't swear," Eymand grimaced, pulling a flask from the inside pocket of his vest and draining it in one gulp. "Cursing is not a virtue."
"And downing half a liter of whiskey aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer commanded by an Alderaanian obsessed with hunting traitors, rebels, and pirates — a man whom everyone associated with illegal business in the Outer Rim feared to death — is that a virtue?" Tyberos grimaced.
"Well, I'm not drinking on an empty stomach," Eymand shrugged. He shook the flask but realized there really was nothing left. "Our team's little commander — 'Wow!' quite something..."
"I don't envy that little princess," Tyberos grimaced. He reached behind his back, stroking the handle of his war hammer. "Maybe we should... one hit to the head and it's all over? The girl would clearly be better off dead than falling into Shohashi's hands. I heard that after Endor he didn't join any of the Imperial warlords. He attacked the rebels on his own, carrying out such massacres that even some pirates couldn't sleep peacefully after hearing the stories from scavengers who visited Shohashi's kill sites. Even Yonka himself is a nice guy compared to him, and he was feared like hell. They say he's been hunting some Imperial ace for several years now..."
"Yeah, seems like that guy is quite a fanatic," said Eymand. He glanced at the Imperial standing next to him. He tilted his head back slightly, as if trying to look at the young officer's back. "Hmm... and I thought you'd shit yourself, Commander."
"No," the medium cruiser commander shook his head. Dobramu! Right! Whatever. "I just realized something."
"Universal wisdom?" Tyberos snorted from under his mask. "You could have just asked. I'll tell you outright — don't piss against the wind. Universal knowledge on how to survive any situation."
"Huh?" the boy stirred. "Yeah, thanks. No, I realized why he's hunting Soontir Fel..."
"Fel?" Tyberos tensed. "That Imperial baron who commanded the 181st Legion?"
"And still commands," the Imperial shivered as if cold. "Fel is one of the best aces in the Empire. He and his subordinates fly simple standard TIE fighters, yet they tear apart every enemy of the Empire they encounter."
"Then something doesn't add up," concluded Eymand, scratching his head between his horns. "Why would Shohashi hunt an Imperial ace? If it were some Wedge Antilles, or Han Solo at the very least..."
"Didn't you see the photo of the girl in his chrono?" Dobramu whispered, looking around furtively as if someone might overhear them.
"Saw it," Tyberos nodded. "A pretty young lady, I like those... Aristocrat, all that... Eh, kid, if only you knew what they're like..."
"The photo is of Iran Ryad," the commander said, barely audibly.
Silence fell. Tyberos and Eymand exchanged glances. Well, now it was clear...
"Red Star," Tyberos said just as quietly, stroking his throat. It became somewhat hard to breathe. "Her — Fel and his flyboys killed her..."
"There are rumors that the Red Star was not a traitor, as Ysanne Isard blasted to the entire Empire after Palpatine's death," Dobramu continued in the same whisper. "At the Academy, we heard that the Iceheart was getting rid of all power centers after Palpatine's death so that nothing and no one would threaten her once she settled on Coruscant. And the Red Star was so popular among Imperials that Luke Skywalker with his fame is just a nuna pup. I'm sure if Iran Ryad and that Tatooine moisture farmer had met in battle, the Red Star would have torn his X-wing from the nozzles to the cockpit without even breaking a sweat."
Tyberos and Eymand exchanged glances again.
"Seems like there was something between this Shohashi and your aristocratic lady pilot," the corsair chuckled. "A romantic story about a lover avenging his beloved's death on her killer... I'll have to adapt it for myself. I'm sure there are still romantic blue-blooded fools in the Empire and the New Republic."
"They'll eat your brain out right at lunch," Eymand grimaced. "You eat with your hands."
"How should I?" Tyberos asked in surprise.
"With utensils," the Imperial said cautiously.
"Screw them," Tyberos waved his hand.
"That's exactly why they're looking for you on Eriadu," Eymand reminded. "That port official didn't survive such an outrage..."
"Can you at least be serious for a minute?" the Imperial inquired. "We have an operation coming up, after which either the New Republic will tremble significantly, or Shohashi will string us up on his turbolasers and fire a salute toward Coruscant."
"And you're really hoping that a bigger Imperial will string you up," Tyberos taunted the clearly frightened commander.
"I'll tear out your throat, you filthy pirate," the boy bared his teeth, taking a step forward.
"I took a bath a week ago, you little sucker," Tyberos snorted, demonstratively wrapping his fingers around the handles of his war hammers. "And we're no longer pirates, but noble corsairs in the service of the Grand Admiral. They've officially approved me to form my own corsair fleet. Don't you want to come under my wing, kid? I promise to be gentle..."
"Scumbag and filth," Dobramu stated.
"My best qualities!" Tyberos gave a mock bow, watching as the boy intended to spit at his feet but changed his mind upon seeing stormtroopers heading their way.
"Don't forget what you're supposed to do, pirates," he snapped, quickly closing the distance to his Lambda shuttle.
"Guard your ass, you misunderstanding with commander's rank insignia," Tyberos snorted.
"Stop it," Eymand advised. Turning to the stormtroopers, he waved his hands. "We're already leaving, boys, no need to escort us out."
The squad of "dolls" stopped in place, their entire demeanor making it clear that the estimated time of their patience toward non-Imperials aboard the "Imperious" was rapidly running out. And most likely, if they continued to test that patience, the pirates' ship and its crew would leave the Imperial Star Destroyer's hangar very quickly, involuntarily, separately from each other and in pieces.
"Vane, that parasite, somehow got himself an aircraft-carrying Star Destroyer," Tyberos grumbled after the "Rabid Ewok" had put a fair distance between itself and Captain Shohashi's ship, approaching the "Gozanti" and the "Devastator."
"Jealous?" Eymand smirked.
"To the point of stomach cramps," Tyberos didn't hide it. "Such a ship, which Yazuo showed off all the way here, is a worthy flagship for a privateer admiral. We need to quietly get rid of Vane and convince Thrawn to give us the starship."
"Or maybe we should just get to this princess and get a pile of money for her alive?" Eymand offered an alternative, sitting at the computer and apparently searching for information about their target on the HoloNet. Yes, Thrawn could have told them who they were hunting. If the same "Sly" and Karrde are known figures, then the Republic "bigwig.".. It would be good to check on her in advance. "I'm sure the Alderaanian princess, member of the New Republic Provisional Council, hero of the Rebellion, is worth more than Vane's help in capturing Booster Terrik's ship. We'll earn credits, offer him to sell his tub. I'm sure he'll soon be up to his neck in shit with that 'Providence.' But for the princess, Thrawn should shell out a decent sum."
"And she seems pretty cute," Tyberos said thoughtfully, glancing at the holographic image of the princess with a 'bun ring' hairstyle on the back of her head... Oh, these aristocrats... "We could have some fun."
"Don't even think about bringing your junk near her," Eymand said unexpectedly sharply.
"And why is that?" Tyberos wondered. Even his weak Force abilities were enough to sense that his Jedi friend was disturbed.
"That's why," Eymand turned the monitor toward him. Ah, so it wasn't the "HoloNet" but a shadow bounty hunter database... A Zabrak finger pointed at a line of text in the Alderaanian princess's biography. And a list of her closest living relatives.
"You've got to be kidding," Tyberos whistled, looking at the Jedi, in whose eyes golden flecks began to appear. "What kind of shit has Thrawn gotten us into?!"
* * *
Standing before the Grand Admiral once again, Captain Pellaeon noticed that even the dimness of the Supreme Commander's quarters could not hide the shadow on the Chiss's face.
"Contact our scout groups working with the Noghri," said Thrawn. "Recall them all to Tangrene."
"But the Noghri are based on their home planet," the commander of the Chimaera frowned.
"And the Noghri will return home," the Grand Admiral said, like an echo. "Send an order to our contingent on Honoghr. Have them conduct a rapid analysis of the changes the Empire made to the local parasitic grass. That data must be copied to storage media. They have two days. After that, the entire contingent and scout droids must be withdrawn from the planet. Ensure that the coordinates of Honoghr disappear from all fleet databases, except," Thrawn handed him one of his code cylinders, "my personal records."
"Y-yes, sir, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon stammered. What was happening? We're leaving Honoghr?
"Send Moff Ferrus an order — prepare the largest available transport for transit," Thrawn continued. "All stocks of decontamination droids and the tanks with that filth we're using to cleanse their planet should be loaded onto it." Gilad thought he had misheard. Had the Grand Admiral just cursed? Something was clearly wrong with him. All those minor slips Pellaeon had witnessed were merely alarming but insignificant warning bells. But now... If this wasn't a bell toll, then why did he hear a mighty ring? "As soon as we're on Tangrene, arrange for Rukh to be delivered to the ship."
"It will be done, sir." Gilad realized that now was not the best time to ask his questions. Later... perhaps.
"Let our navigators turn over the entire database of the Chimaera, the fleet, the Imperial Intelligence archives, and data from Obroa-skai, but find me a planet called Vjun." Thrawn's eyes blazed with an unbearable crimson fire, which in the semi-darkness of the cabin became truly terrifying.
"A-as you command, sir." Pellaeon felt like that young captain from the time of the Clone Wars, whom his commanders were about to tear apart for a carefree and frivolous life full of connections unbecoming a Republic officer. As if a rain of fury and wrath were about to pour down...
"It's all right, Captain," Thrawn "consoled" him. "We've simply reached the midpoint of the second phase of my plan. Soon the New Republic and our other enemies will wipe away bloody tears..."
And now Pellaeon wasn't ashamed to admit that he was scared shitless.