Nine years, six months, and thirteen days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, six months, and thirteen days after the Great Resynchronization.
Returning to Tangrene felt... routine.
The triumphal arch formed by two Carrack-class light cruisers, though it symbolized our victory, seemed somehow lackluster compared to the completion of the Rugos operation. Not that I insisted on celebrating my own vanity, but... Well, what difference do all these ceremonies make when the point is simply returning to base. Without losing ships. After a battle that wasn't the simplest.
Now the main thing was to consider what to do next and prepare for the assault on the Hasti shipyards. It was time to get rid of "obligations." The reserve of funds, formed both from the money received from Krennel and from the expropriated credits resulting from the capture of the Allegiance by Captain Shohashi, allowed me not to worry about a shortage for the near future. And finally, to resolve the issues of paying wages to shipyard workers and military personnel. Even the stormtroopers, who in the past had received only meager state payments for their permanent service. Something on the level of funding in my past for conscript soldiers and sailors. Yes, I discovered this fact the same way I always did — by studying documents from Imperial archives. During the time of the Galactic Empire, weekly payments for military service, to stormtroopers in particular, did indeed exist. But they were discontinued after the territory controlled by the Empire shrank to the Remnants. On Orinda, they decided it was indeed worth continuing to pay the salaries of fleet specialists, officers, and sailors. But stormtroopers... the policy was simple — why give money to people turned into "meat droids"? They'd accept any changes meekly anyway. I had taken it all in stride myself, accepting it as normal, without looking into the details.
But now, after losing the loyalty of the Noghri, I thought about a simple question: how to ensure the loyalty of the military without expending much effort? Victories alone won't fill your belly.
At the very least, there's already a boost in morale among the forces under my command, fueled by recent victories. But even with that money, there was a certain bottleneck, since it was constantly being spent on fleet repairs and purchasing necessary spare parts.
But now there's several times more funding... It's clear that expenses will also increase, but the positive example set with civilian specialists is telling in its own way: people and other sentients are willing to work overtime for wages they wouldn't be able to earn anywhere else in the foreseeable future. A direct cause-and-effect link: demand for high-paying positions — even with the mandatory reclassification from "volunteer" to "conscript" creates supply from both civilians and other specialists, including military personnel leaving their posts and heading to recruitment centers.
Yes, I made another mistake. Moff Ferrus wasn't recruiting sentients directly on Tangrene — I understood that from the operational reports I studied. It's gratifying that the moff turned out smarter than I assumed — to avoid compromising the main logistics base, he set up recruitment centers on planets in Imperial Space, where volunteers reported. Only then were they transported by cargo ships to the former residence of the Ubiqtorate. This fragmented information regarding the location of the fleet base under my command. I made a blunder by revealing the base's location on Tangrene to Ferrier and the other pirates, even though the meeting point had originally been an outpost in the Pakuuni system. That was specifically done to keep the main base out of the equation. My mistake was deciding that privateers deserved to be trusted with that level of information. Well, a lesson for the future. And a realization that my choice of the moff as commander of the financial, economic, and personnel foundation of my forces was intuitively correct.
Therefore, despite the actions of Lieutenant Colonel Astarion's operatives — who eliminated republican spies — the revelation of this secret can still be expected. Which leads to a simple truth: the security of the rear base must be ensured. Our defensive station, a Golan II-class platform, will soon become operational, but by itself it won't inflict serious damage in the event of a swift, massive enemy attack. But if there were a dozen of them...
No, there definitely won't be a dozen — they're too expensive to acquire. A different matter if we were to borrow and upgrade them according to an existing design... However, I knew exactly where to obtain a certain amount of the equipment I was interested in.
"Moff Ferrus has outdone himself," Captain Pellaeon said, interrupting my thoughts.
Following his gaze, I looked toward Tangrene's orbit.
"Interesting," was all I could say, seeing the scene unfolding before me. "Contact Tangrene control, Captain. Transmit our cargo manifests and coordinate the unloading and repair priorities. We won't be staying long. Order the fleet ships to re-form into a single-file line according to standard protocol and proceed through both Triumphal Arches at thirty percent of maximum cruising speed. The Chimaera will lead — that is, move first in the formation civilians usually call a 'single file' or 'follow the leader.' The Inexorable will bring up the rear."
"Understood, Grand Admiral!" Pellaeon saluted and walked briskly toward the communications section, leaving me alone to stroke the peacefully sleeping ysalamiri on my lap and watch the spectacle unfolding before my flagship.
And it was certainly worth seeing.
The Nemesis and two of the captured and previously repaired Imperial II\-class vessels — the Freedom and the Offensive — were forming the second Triumphal Arch closer to the shipyard. I'm confident about Von Schneider's Star Destroyer — it has a full crew. But the other two... "Where did those come from?" In other words — where did they find enough sentients for such a display? I need to find out. I doubt Moff Ferrus and Lieutenant Colonel Astarion resolved the acute personnel shortage that quickly. And the Imperious is still en route, along with the Allegiance it captured... That makes four ships, all needing sizable crews. Troubling.
Three Imperial Star Destroyers, forming a loose triangle, were inviting us to pass between them as soon as our convoy cleared the pair of Carrack\-class cruisers. The path from the reversion point in real space led straight to where most of the captured "goods" would be unloaded. Part of the cargo — Class 2 hyperdrives for heavy cruisers — would be unloaded directly at the shipyards; the rest would be deposited in warehouses on Tangrene's surface.
Damn pleasant to be greeted like this. Fleet tradition, after all.
And my thoughts once again turned to solving the next dilemma before me. There was no need to micromanage the "parade" everyone knew their job. For better or worse, they knew it. And the single-file formation, along with instructions from the planet's OCC, would prevent any tragic collisions.
But how much time would we spend getting to our berths by participating in this ceremonial procession? A rhetorical question, of course — three times longer than if we were moving at maximum speed, as usual. Still, a certain idea had formed, one that needed implementation to yield intangible benefits for my cause. I couldn't deny people their legitimate right to a legitimate triumph. They had earned it — we had sailed straight into a trap, accomplished all our objectives with virtually no incidents, and even more, returned to base without losing a single ship. May all raids be like this!
Hmm... Psychology and economic incentive as a means of securing loyalty? Why not, after all? Every sentient appreciates having their deeds properly valued — for young and not-so-young Imperials alike, this rule has no exceptions. So it's worth considering making this tradition permanent — for every ship returning from battle to base. Of course, only in case of victory... The crews would definitely appreciate it, especially if ground services were also involved in the triumphal greeting — granting shore leave, for instance. For demonstrated bravery in combat and exemplary service.
Why not? In my past life, conscripts and contract soldiers alike were happy with such things. How are the local sentients any worse or better than the people from my past? I don't think they are.
And if I apply some analysis — why not restore pay for the stormtroopers? Not at the former scale, of course — the fleet budget simply couldn't sustain those old Imperial pay rates for every single sentient. But looking at it logically... If stormtroopers and other Imperials were getting nothing for their service except rations, and now they'd receive at least fifty credits extra that same month — that's a substantial sum. Not the height of luxury, but to understand the price level and cost of goods, it's worth noting that one credit in these times can cover a day's living expenses. Quite comfortably, at that. And considering that the armed forces under my command are provided with food, uniforms, housing, and other necessities almost entirely from the fleet budget, the extra money should be well received.
I just need to calculate the economic feasibility of such a move. You can break a lot of things by accident... including a fragile economy based solely on "looted" and "honestly earned" funds.
Which brings me to another question: does it make sense to invest money and resources in the economic development of the Morshdine sector? Initially, I only planned to use the sector as a rear supply and repair base for the fleet. But the more ships fall under my command, the more sentients come under "my flag," the clearer it becomes that there are still roughly four months of resistance ahead until the end of the current year, when a fundamental decision about our future must be made. The money I currently have should be enough to continue operations as planned.
But I also understand that without an economic base, I'll have to keep "earning through plunder." And that's a dead end. If only because that option will no longer work in the future. Not to go into detail, maintaining three hundred (or more) ships of various types will require significant funds. A fleet and an army must fight and thereby justify the economic viability of their existence in such turbulent times in the galaxy. Consequently, economic relations must be maximally geared toward generating profit to ensure income even in "peacetime."
Which suggests that military infrastructure alone won't keep you fed. Eventually, the cash reserves will run out, and we'll face the inability to pay for spare parts, shipyard worker wages, or equipment we can't produce ourselves. War doesn't always bring the profit you hope for. And at that point, normally functioning states pour into the war economy that portion of the budget formed by tax collection from the population and economic operations in civilian sectors.
To put it simply — maintaining a fleet and army is extremely expensive. An economy is needed, similar to what the D'Asta sector, the Ciutric Hegemony, and all other Imperial Remnants possess. After all, they don't just produce weapons and export suffering...
Which leads to the next dilemma — I intended to abandon Tangrene, taking everything necessary for further operations. There's no guarantee that after the fleet leaves for Sluis Van, the sector won't be taken by Republicans or one of the Remnants. Not to mention whether the Reborn Emperor will decide to get even with those who supported me. And that means all the resources I invest in developing the civilian economy of the Morshdine sector could end up in enemy hands. And I would have spent a huge amount of money on this project instead of using it to fund my campaign.
Or should I somehow twist things so that Morshdine and Moff Ferrus become my economic base, even after I go "underground"? But again, what guarantee is there that the returning Palpatine won't remove the moff from control of the sector and everything created there?
A dilemma... And you don't know what to do to avoid losing your shirt on the money.
Or should I just not bother with something I'm far removed from and let Ferrus handle the problem himself? Especially since the Ciutric campaign is just around the corner... And there will be factories, all necessary supplies, an already developed and well-functioning economy there...
Hmm... what if I could have it both ways?
War is inevitable anyway, so why am I panicking?
"Sir, Lieutenant Jade reports she's ready to come aboard the Chimaera as soon as you approve her request," Lieutenant Tschel said, appearing beside my chair.
"Consider it approved," I said, handing the drowsing ysalamiri to the Imperial. Lucky creature — sleeps all day, eats, basks on warm limbs, no demands or complaints, all it needs to do is continue its natural physiological activity of "blocking the Force."
Man, I wish I had that life!
* * *
"You knew about this!" Councilor Fey'lya's clawed finger stabbed accusingly toward Mon Mothma.
The red-haired woman looked tiredly at the documents spread before her. The meeting had started on an entirely different matter...
"This is... this act of yours borders on treason!" the Bothan continued, looming over the table. His tone shifted from harsh rhetoric to outright accusations. Not that he was far from the truth. She had indeed known that Leia and General Cracken intended to embark on a reckless journey to obtain the data so desperately needed to save the New Republic. And unfortunately, no one — not even Cracken's ubiquitous agents — could find any valuable information about the threat from the Imperial splinter task force. Intelligence from Imperial Space, if it arrived at all, was only general in nature. The kind already known. Yes, there was a certain Imperial unit operating independently of Imperial Space policy and any of the Remnants. Yes, this task force was led by a sentient holding the rank of Grand Admiral.
And... that was it.
Most intelligence came from Orinda, but few there knew what was happening. Most likely, access to such secrets began and ended with the Imperial Ruling Council. Which wasn't very forthcoming about events. And kept a sharp eye on what was happening. And punished anyone who in any way provided information to New Republic spies. The latest information that had been obtained concerned the fact that the man leading this independent task force not only called himself Grand Admiral, but had been granted the position of Supreme Commander by the Imperial Ruling Council over a year ago. Along with the ships he had at the start of his campaign several months ago. Judging by the fact that hundreds of Star Destroyers hadn't descended upon New Republic worlds, the Imperials had chosen to restrain their Grand Admiral's destructive impulses. For some reason.
What reason — they hadn't been able to determine. Before the intelligence agents working on the mystery of the enigmatic Imperial commander could obtain new information, their bloodied bodies were delivered to Coruscant by a courier droid in the hold of an old freighter. The entire agent group, killed in the traditional Imperial Security Bureau manner — with particular cruelty — was brought to Coruscant in the hold of their cover ship. Illegal assets supposedly remained in Imperial Space, but... After Cracken's death, no one had access to them. The question of where exactly the agents who intended to uncover the Grand Admiral's base location had gone remained unanswered. And after General Cracken's disappearance, the chances of reaching the remnants of the illegal network became virtually nonexistent.
No matter how hard the intelligence officers tried, they couldn't find out anything more than that. Neither the base location, nor the name of the man leading the Imperials who acted so boldly, so coordinated, so ruthlessly... Only vague hints that unknown Star Destroyers sometimes appeared in the territory of the Pentastar Alignment, the Ciutric Hegemony, and the D'Asta sector. But that wasn't new — the Imperials preferred not to use IFF transponders even on their own territory, making it impossible to identify ships without special, bulky equipment.
Admiral Ackbar, before his removal, made an interesting observation. Interesting from the standpoint of the enemy's tactics and strategy. But extremely disheartening for the New Republic.
Whoever this Imperial was, he feared a direct confrontation with large enemy state formations. His tactics were based on swift, brief actions that damaged military infrastructure. He had problems with the number of ships in his fleet, or a penchant for trophies, so he tended to capture damaged capital ships — battleships, cruisers, corvettes, occasionally frigates. Consequently, he didn't have enough strength to organize a full-scale invasion of any sector and subjugate it. He intended to build up his forces — slowly but surely. Having just acquired three Star Destroyers (four, if General Calrissian's Allegiance had also fallen among the Imperial trophies), this sentient couldn't immediately put them all under his command — crews needed to be formed, and the Imperials had recruitment problems. As Mon Mothma understood from the account of the New Republic's new intelligence chief, the agents who died had attempted to infiltrate the Imperial task force disguised as volunteers, which the Imperials were still trying to scrape together. It turned out this Grand Admiral had a well-functioning counterintelligence system.
"Sit down, Councilor Fey'lya," Mon Mothma advised wearily. "I understand your feelings. What happened is a tragedy for all of us."
"A tragedy?" A spark of mockery and threat appeared in the Bothan's eyes. "Is that so, Head of the Council? You call the disappearance of our fleet's freshly recommissioned Imperial I\-class Star Destroyer, with its crew on board, along with Princess Organa-Solo, Generals Cracken and Calrissian — you call that a 'tragedy'?"
The native of Chandrila looked at the Bothan with silent reproach. Why this pathos? Why this grandstanding and populism? Here, at this meeting of the reduced Provisional Council, there was no one who might support the Bothan's lofty rhetoric. Her head already ached from the latest news.
"Our high-ranking politicians and military personnel are either captured or dead," Borsk Fey'lya continued his speech. "And you say 'Tragedy'? No, Mon Mothma — this is a catastrophe. Imagine how much information our citizens could provide to the Imperial warlord!? And we've already practically handed him a fourth Imperial Star Destroyer! Not to mention the enormous sum secretly given to Princess Leia for purchasing information! And this despite the fact that currently Bothan intelligence is sparing no effort in searching for the tiniest crumbs of information about our enemy and his forces! Well, with your permission, esteemed Mon Mothma, we have effectively financed the Imperials' construction of an Executor\-class Super Star Destroyer! Not to mention how vulnerable our military and political secrets have become! The Imperials will obtain the data they need through torture," the Bothan paused, taking a sip of water from a glass. "I'm not saying that Princess Leia's pregnancy will make her act rashly and voluntarily answer Imperial interrogators' questions to save her own life and that of her children..." Mon Mothma felt a wave of nausea. These weren't just words. Borsk had learned about what happened much earlier than she had and had clearly prepared this speech. Most likely, he had already laid the groundwork among his supporters, and while she wasted time and energy on him, rumors were spreading through the Imperial Palace, slandering the honor and dignity of the Rebellion's heroes — the Princess, the Generals...
"Stop immediately, Councilor Fey'lya!" She banged the gavel, cutting off the grandstanding speaker mid-sentence. "We do not have information about what actually happened in the Milagro system. Our investigators are still working on site..."
"And they found a sufficient number of debris from Imperial small craft, our fighters and bombers, but not a single piece of debris from civilian vessels that might belong to Talon Karrde's ships, who lured our people into that system. And certainly not a single destroyed large Imperial ship! I am, without a doubt, certain that our valiant soldiers fought like heroes, but facts are stubborn things! You and your friends believed in the honesty of a smuggler and information dealer! And this has led, at best, to the capture of our people..."
"You are far too confident in your categorical assertions," Mon Mothma regained her composure. Borsk, thinking she was tired and could be finished off right then and there, had made a serious miscalculation. He, as always, was in a hurry, believing that republican politics operated under the same laws as Bothan politics. No, Councilor. The New Republic doesn't have that many eager schemers ready to jump on the fallen at the accuser's heel. The New Republic needs facts and evidence. "You at least exclude from your declared constant assumptions the fact that our Star Destroyer Allegiance was heavily damaged in battle and is currently moving toward the nearest base on backup power. You, who leads the armed forces of the New Republic, Councilor Fey'lya, must allow for the possibility that the Allegiance may have survived the engagement..."
"In light of recent events, I am not confident that we can count on an optimistic outcome," Councilor Fey'lya said meaningfully. "The Empire struck our training base, where the 'Gold Squadron' once trained, mining it after their departure. Fortunately, our fleet specialists, already taught by bitter experience under Admiral Ackbar's command, approached the base inspection with all due care and managed to avoid explosions of the main and backup reactors. The attack on our weapons supplier — Huff Darklighter of Tatooine — is also an unpleasant signal, not to mention that the Empire carried out sabotage at several other military installations. Their attack on the planet Xa Fel is outrageous in nature! They captured a huge number of hyperdrive models of various types! Not to mention the enormous damage inflicted on our allies in the Kuat sector!
"Kuat Drive Yards hasn't filed a claim against us yet," Mon Mothma reminded, seizing the chance to change the subject. She understood perfectly that the Bothan hadn't attacked her with veiled accusations for no reason — he was probing her diplomatic defenses. He wanted to identify her counterarguments so he could prepare to refute them. Mon Mothma no longer doubted that this being had called this special meeting with a single purpose: as a rehearsal for a speech before the New Republic Senate aimed at removing her from the post of Provisional Government leader. Essentially, only Leia, Cracken, and Ackbar could stop him from climbing to the very pinnacle of power. And now, for one reason or another, they had dropped out of the political battles… A strange fact — from any of the New Republic's troubles, only the Bothan party benefited.
And this fact was extremely suspicious… If Mon Mothma weren't a sensible person, she might think the Empire was acting to let the Bothans seize power. But that couldn't be the case by default — the New Order disliked non-humans. And given that only the most virulent xenophobes remained in power among the Imperial Remnants (well, perhaps only Grand Moff Ardus Kaine stood out with his peaceable nature — he didn't covet others' holdings, but wouldn't give up his own either), an alliance with Fey'lya couldn't exist by definition…
By the definition of the Galactic Republic's heyday. And if you believed the carefully cultivated propaganda of Republican agents, who imposed on the galaxy the idea that Imperials had oppressed aliens and hated them regardless of skin color, race, religion, or other criteria… Only the top brass of the New Republic knew that this wasn't entirely true… But they prudently kept such information away from prying eyes, speculating on the real crimes of the Imperial war machine. In times when Imperial influence had been reduced to a minimum, finishing off a wounded enemy was much easier than fighting him openly. That was why the New Republic hadn't launched a full-scale offensive — it simply wasn't ready for it yet. First, the ideological groundwork had to be laid to ease the actions of ground forces — and among the worlds fanatically devoted to the Empire, fighting "to the last soldier" was far too common. For this reason, the New Republic preferred not to venture where mass casualties and protracted battles were expected.
But that was a strategy, a state-level one. At the moment, she needed to move to countering Borsk on the political front. And for that, she needed her own allies… If only she knew whom she could count on… If only the Jedi Skywalker or General Solo were on Coruscant… But no, they were far away. And honestly, they didn't carry as much political weight compared to Ackbar and the Princess… But it was something. Unfortunately, summoning them to Coruscant now just for her own support… would be good. But it would look like a gesture of desperation. The Bothans could eliminate both of them from politics quickly and efficiently. So thoroughly that in the future they would never be able to provide any kind of support again.
And the assignments they were carrying out… were serious. Mon knew in general terms what missions they were performing. And she fervently hoped that Fey'lya and his campaign wouldn't interfere with Skywalker and Solo completing their missions. Otherwise, it would be a complete failure.
And political suicide. If only Leia's husband could reach Grand Admiral Octavian Grant and persuade him to return to "the fold," but under the New Republic's banner. This being could sufficiently replace Admiral Ackbar on the military front (and, most likely, even surpass him). He might even be able to destroy the Imperial task force. Then things would improve, and the Bothans' encroachments could be neutralized and their thirst for power controlled, channeling it into a positive direction.
"They haven't filed a claim yet," Councilor Fey'lya declared. "Because they're calculating the damage caused. But one thing is clear — it's in the billions of Republic credits. And if they do present us with a claim…"
"Kuat Drive Yards will adhere to diplomatic negotiations with us," Mon Mothma said confidently. "They, like most of the New Republic, exist as independent autonomous entities. Kuat refused to allow our military bases on their sector's territory — they promised to handle their own security. They have nothing to reproach us for."
"Except that our fleet allowed the Imperials to pass through our territory into systems controlled by Kuat," Borsk stated.
Mon smiled weakly.
"That, Councilor, is your own problem," she said in a restrained tone. "You head our Armed Forces. For now, at least," she placed a logical emphasis at the right point in her sentence. "So responsibility for their actions, whether successful or not, falls entirely on you and your assistants. You claimed you were capable of controlling our valiant military and leading them to victory. I think you should pay the closest attention to that," she added with a polite, perfunctory smile. "As well as to investigating how, under your able leadership, our training base on the planet Tierfon was destroyed, its defenders — who were, incidentally, under the command of your fellow Bothan and protege — were killed, seven X-wings and a YT-1300 transport were stolen, an unknown number of our young recruits were taken prisoner, an arsenal was removed, and, apparently, the central computer also fell into the hands of our enemies. I believe that at the next session of the New Republic Senate, this issue will be raised first, since you are so tactfully avoiding its discussion at an emergency meeting of the Provisional Government right now. I hope you will be prepared to provide all the explanations that interest me and the Senators."
"Oh, do not doubt it," Borsk Fey'lya assured her with remarkable calm. "I have already taken all necessary steps. And our adversaries will be destroyed shortly. By the end of the year, optimally within three months, the repairs on the Lusankya will be completed. And we will open the hunt for the Imperial independent task force."
Mon Mothma felt as if she couldn't breathe. She clearly hadn't expected such a move from the Bothans. And she didn't know how to react — military vessels were under the purview of the Armed Forces. She didn't even know where the captured Imperial Super Star Destroyer, the flagship of Ysanne Isard's fleet, won as a prize in the Bacta War, was located… But she understood that she urgently needed help to prevent something terrible, like the Bothans, who hated the Imperials, gaining complete control over the most powerful ship in the New Republic fleet.
It seemed Princess Leia had an excellent assistant who had been a field agent in the past. With superb analytical skills. What was her name? Winter, that was it, Winter. Leia had said this girl was capable of soberly assessing a situation and was her advisor. At this time, she should be working in the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace handling citizen petitions.
Excellent. They would discuss the latest news there.
* * *
The operational meeting was taking place in a small compartment intended for briefing officers. Hmm… when you thought about it, there were too many compartments with narrow functionality aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer. A briefing compartment for the duty squadron, the reconnaissance squadron, the bomber squadron, for fighter and interceptor pilots… Yes, yes, yes — they were all separate rooms. The senior officers had their own wardroom, the junior officers had theirs… And I hadn't even fully studied the layout of my flagship as such yet.
But I hoped I wouldn't need to in the future.
The man sitting before me was clearly bored. The same couldn't be said for Misters Reyes and Ferrus, seated to my right.
"Mr. Zion," I addressed the recruited shipwright. Mara Jade, standing behind me, had finally stopped playing the fool. And now she appeared in her true intellectual form — calm, dangerous, and reacting to nothing. "I'm glad you've joined us."
"Your assistant promised me a Type Two orbital repair yard," the man said in a tone full of dissatisfaction. The patch over his left eye made him look like a pirate. At least, it was supposed to. "And in all the time I've been here, I haven't even been allowed onto the shipyard. So how, I ask you, am I supposed to work without knowing the engineers or the technical capabilities of your ORY? Is it even Type Two or Type One?"
"Type Two," Chief Engineer Reyes said irritably.
"Oh, really?" the shipwright Zion sneered, looking at his colleague with mockery in his single eye(? "So where are the production complexes then?"
"On the planet," I noticed that Mr. Reyes was avoiding my gaze a bit too obviously. Well, well, well — something interesting.
"As I see it, you're a couple of hundred hectares short of industrial complexes for a full production cycle," Zion snorted. Looking at me, he added:
"Type Two orbital repair yards are considered shipbuilding, but in reality, their difference from Type One, which is ship repair, is only the presence of a hyperdrive and a number of additional technical enhancements. They can't build ships on their own without the proper industry, which you don't have."
"Thank you for the reminder," I said. "As if we didn't know…"
"I was promised full-fledged shipyards!" the shipwright pressed, jabbing his finger at the tabletop as if it were somehow responsible. "But in reality, all you can do is repair…"
"If something doesn't suit you, Mr. Zion, you can always take a shuttle and leave," I said calmly. "No one is going to tolerate hysterics. Or backtalk. This is your first and last warning. Is that clear?"
"As clear as a supernova," Ryan Zion snorted, but his impulsiveness subsided somewhat. He stared intently at Reyes sitting opposite him, then looked at me:
"So, the terms of my contract. I want to receive one hundred and fifty thousand credits per month of work, and have complete freedom to manage the personnel under my command. I won't tolerate arguments, advice, or any other tech-heresy. If you've read some manuals and quasi-technical literature and demand I turn your Star Destroyers into miniature Death Stars — I'll pack my things and go find a spot on Kuat. Do you accept my terms, Grand Admiral?"
Well, well… Yes, they did say he would be difficult.
"Lieutenant Jade," I said quietly. "Teach this man some respect."
Before Ryan could even register what was happening, Mara was behind him, wrenched his right arm into a lock, and slammed his face onto the table. She pressed down hard.
"Now listen to me, Mr. Shipwright," the red-haired vixen continued twisting her captive's arm, not allowing him to move. Judging by the flicker of a smile on Nick Reyes' lips, he was pleased. As for Moff Ferrus, seeing that the topic under discussion didn't concern him, he switched to work, running the economic calculations I had been pondering earlier. I shouldn't meddle in things I don't understand. "No one here dares to set conditions for me. You will not receive a planetary governor's salary, because you are not one. Your colleagues in civilian specialties who command shipyards earn three times less — and we're talking about Kuat Drive Yards here, the leader in galactic production. I'm offering you a salary of seventy-five thousand credits monthly, plus full naval provisions. You will have freedom in carrying out the tasks assigned to you. If beings are placed under your command, they will follow your orders related to the work process. If I or anyone higher in our little hierarchy than you requires information from you, you will assemble and report. Now, regarding the shipyard that will be under your direct command. At the moment, we only have one, and it is commanded by Mr. Reyes," judging by the look thrown, the dislike was mutual. "As soon as we acquire a second, it will be placed at your full disposal. More details about your rights and responsibilities will be specified in the employment contract. Are these points clear?"
The shipwright, his eye spinning wildly, nodded.
"You can release him, Lieutenant Jade," I said. The red-haired vixen deftly allowed Ryan to regain control of his body. "Any more constructive suggestions regarding our long-term cooperation?"
"I hope I wasn't brought here just to be used as a rag for the table," the man lamented, throwing an angry glance at Mara. "And you put on a good act…"
The girl, not even deigning to give him a condescending look, returned to where she had stood.
"Fine," Zion said after a couple of seconds of staring me down. "I accept your offer. Better than nothing."
"Better than for most beings in Imperial Space," Moff Ferrus remarked without looking up from the documents on his datapad.
"I won't argue," the shipwright snorted. "So, I'd like to hear what you need from me. You have a starship creator," he nodded towards Nick Reyes, "but you called me. I specialize in modernizing ships of specific classes."
"We have suitable ships for you," I noted. "Nearly two hundred Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers, for example."
"Whose production?" the shipwright inquired.
"Rendili," I said, deciding not to reveal my ignorance on the matter — 'Oh, were they produced elsewhere as well?' But it might be possible, since Rendili StarDrive had a considerable number of small shipyards scattered across the galaxy. Perhaps some of their output was built outside the Rendili star system.
"Ah, well, that's not so bad," Zion nodded, thinking about something of his own. Then, he caught himself: "You're not talking about the Katana Fleet now, are you?"
"The very same," I didn't deny it. "We have one hundred and ninety-six of those heavy cruisers at our disposal. What proposals do you have regarding these ships?"
The shipwright Zion's artificial eye seemed to smoke slightly. From joy, it seemed.
"We have the necessary stock of spare parts to replace outdated technologies and assemblies," Moff Ferrus said, finally tearing himself away from contemplating his datapad and looking at the shipwright. "A shipment of Class Two hyperdrives has also been delivered and is ready for installation."
"Neat," Zion smirked. "Well, these little ships, even if morally obsolete, can still give a good thrashing. Especially considering that the rebels also have ships that aren't first-rate…"
"The New Republic," I corrected the speaker. "Not rebels."
"Well, as you wish," Mr. Zion shrugged. "Call a stool a throne, the meaning stays the same. So… Of course, you understand I won't provide you with a modernization plan for two hundred ships right now, with all the details, estimates, and the rest. I can only outline the general points — what can be done with them…"
"I think it will be easier for you to hypothesize if you look at the list of spare parts we've already purchased for this type of ship, and also study the design documents we have," Reyes said with a polite smile, passing his datapad across the table to his colleague.
"Yeah, yeah, like I'd just go and do that," the willful shipwright grumbled, but he took the device with the data nonetheless.
Silence fell in the room for a while. I wasn't in a hurry to receive reports from the Moff and the Chief Engineer — there wasn't sufficient trust in Mr. Zion as such yet. And I wasn't about to divulge any of our secrets in front of him. Instead, I used the break to type an order for Mara Jade on my datapad and handed it to her to read.
Turns out, finding the planet Vjun wasn't so difficult. It was in the archives… And surprisingly close to the Gordian Reach. The very one that contained the ever-memorable Yavin star system…
"Overall," the shipwright set the documents aside, "the direction of the ideas is correct. Replacing the main engines will increase sublight speed — not by much, thirty percent at best, but that already means a heavy cruiser becomes a cruiser, not a slow bantha. I take it you simply don't have enough modern weaponry for a full rearmament… well, the ones already on the ships will do. We'll update a number of mechanisms and assemblies, and the difference from standard systems will be small — about twenty percent; after all, there hasn't been such strong scientific and technical progress in this area over the last hundred years. Class Two hyperdrives… I'd describe how this monstrosity will look — Kuat mechanisms connected via adapters to a Rendili base," the man cast a cautious glance towards Mara Jade, "but I think you understand it yourselves."
"Will they work normally?" I clarified.
"Yes, of course they will," Ryan Zion grimaced. "But it will take some fiddling, no doubt. So, what else… Hangars… A bold idea; I take it it uses an old Imperial project…"
"Why invent something new when there's something well-tested and old?" Chief Engineer Reyes asked rhetorically with a smirk.
"Who's arguing?" my new employee returned the mockery. "But I'm warning you right now, it's better to clarify this point. Very little space will be left in the holds. Effectively, we'll reduce the ship's endurance to a month — maximum, and that's just a rough estimate. By upgrading the generators and reactors, I can certainly free up some internal space, but not for half the ship. I repeat, these are just rough calculations for now. But we can definitely fit two squadrons of TIE fighters inside each of the heavy cruisers. Plus the necessary fuel reserves, armaments, some spare parts… Yes, it should turn out pretty well," the man squinted his single eye. "Given Rendili automation, it's not exactly luxury, but it's what we have…"
"There are currently several dozen heavy cruisers at the shipyard undergoing engine, hyperdrive, and hangar replacement," Reyes said. "If you like, I can arrange direct access for you."
"I'm a shipwright," Zion said pompously. "Not a theorist. I want to see what I'll be working with, not imagine it in my head. There aren't that many idiots like Lira Blisstex in the whole galaxy, hooking their brain up to a computer…"
"As far as I remember, you were involved in the modernization of the Victory-class Star Destroyers," I said, casting a line for a new dialogue.
"'More guns instead of missiles and torpedoes,'" Zion smirked. "Yes, I had that youthful indiscretion."
"The Steel Aurora will be arriving at Tangrene shortly," I explained. "It's a first-generation Victory. The ship is heavily damaged and needs a complete overhaul…"
"I'm a creative person; spare me from repair duties too," Ryan grimaced, jabbing a finger in Reyes' direction. "You have Nick; let him handle the routine…" There was a click as Mara Jade unsnapped her holster. "But on the other hand, why not?"
"I advise you not to interrupt me in the future," I said in an indifferent tone. "It will lead to your swift demise. But, let's return to the Steel Aurora. Correct me if I'm wrong, gentlemen technical specialists, but do the solar ionization reactors on the Victorys work on the same principles as those on the Imperials?"
"The technology is the same," Reyes shrugged. Zion nodded silently, still not taking his eyes off Jade. "It's a matter of output power. But the discrepancies are small, of course…"
"Then, Mr. Zion, I suggest you consider the matter of rearming our Victorys, replacing the four-gun turbolaser turrets with the eight-gun models used on the Imperial-class Star Destroyers," oh, I should have seen the reaction of those present. Zion's real eye twitched, Reyes' implant flushed burgundy, Moff Ferrus flinched.
Even Mara Jade tensed.
"Ahem," the shipwright Zion cleared his throat, looking away. "Grand Admiral, sir… Excuse me, but why would you want such an approach for the Victorys when you have a dozen and a half Imperials?"
"Because I consider it necessary, Mr. Zion," the shipwright threw a rather eloquent glance my way but immediately backed down, not daring to start another confrontation. "At present, the superstructure of a Victory-I has ten turbolaser turrets — five on each side, left and right. Given the number of gun barrels, that's forty turbolasers in the turret artillery. Modernization will bring that number to eighty turbolasers. The forty twin-barreled turbolaser cannons on the hull bring the total heavy artillery aboard this ship type to one hundred and sixty barrels of various calibers. Considering the twin-barreled turbolasers also serve as medium and anti-aircraft artillery — that's more than respectable armament for such a fragile and small ship."
"And combined with the eighty missile launchers, the ship gets a striking power equal to an Imperial in its best modification," Zion muttered, making some mental calculations… "The project is hardly the simplest… Will take some work, of course… Installing those guns isn't the problem. But the issue with the Victorys is power redundancy. We'll need additional generators…"
"We integrated an additional deflector shield booster generator on the Chimera," I reminded him. "And it's paying off."
"Strange, I didn't notice a third sphere on the superstructure," Zion remarked.
"We used a booster generator from a captured MC30 frigate," Reyes explained. "The power surplus for the deflectors…"
"What if we use a scheme to redirect energy from shields to weapons?" the shipwright Zion suddenly exclaimed, staring at his colleague so intently that even I felt uncomfortable.
"Hmm..." Reyes mused. "I never had that task. But in principle..."
"Additional flow rectifiers?" Zion suggested to his colleague. It seems these guys are switching to their own communication language. I'm starting to feel distinctly superfluous here. However, judging by the look on Moff Ferrus's face, I'm not the only one thinking that.
"Redundancy on the power buses," the Chief Engineer continued his thought. "Variable-type pump blocks... Oh! We could install high-capacity capacitors!"
"And what would be the point?" Zion grimaced. "They'd last for a couple of salvos, then you'd have to redirect power flows again?"
"Then we need something more powerful," Reyes agreed. "Buffers?"
"Can you imagine how big they'd have to be?" Zion chuckled. Moff Ferrus was about to say something, but I stopped him with a gesture. And even though I didn't understand most of what came out of this cheerful techno-babble from these sentients, I suggested not interrupting for a different reason — these two seemed to have found a way to establish a working rapport. "They'd be sticking out of the Victory..."
"And I wasn't talking about that little thing," Reyes waved his hand. "The Victory will have enough from a Mon Calamari frigate's pump generator, but it'll probably need two. But..."
"Only if you take it on yourself," the shipwright Zion suddenly pulled back. "I won't touch those thousands of design flaws."
"So, we've switched from refitting the Victory to the Imperial-class," I stated. "I'd like to hear your thoughts, gentlemen."
"Refitting the Victory is theoretically possible," Zion admitted. "In practice, we'd need to install two or three pump generators under the armor, like the one you have on the Chimaera. Standard energy output should be enough for a medium rate of fire from the main power plant, but more powerful salvos would require additional boosting, so..."
"You need MC30 pump generators," I summarized.
"And plenty of them, or better yet, something newer and better," Chief Engineer Reyes said, looking at me. "Grand Admiral, sir. Essentially, we could try to refit the Imperial-class according to your design..."
"What design is that?" the shipwright Zion asked reluctantly.
"Standardization of the armaments on the Star Destroyers under my command," I explained. "Currently, even within my own fleet, the Imperial-class exists in several armament variants. My proposal is to use the Imperial II as a weapons platform, returning the medium turret artillery of turbolasers to engage frigates, corvettes, and their counterparts. Installing point-defense laser cannons — to counter enemy small craft... Expanding the fighter wing, optimizing the crew. Theoretical calculations."
"Hmm... And are you, like all Imperial military leaders, planning to get rid of the ground forces?" the shipwright Zion asked with a barely perceptible sneer.
"At the moment, we don't have enough transport ships to carry them," I reminded him. "And no, I have no intention of eliminating the stormtroopers on board — not once, but many times Imperial Star Destroyers have been captured by boarding actions. Armed troops on board are the best guarantee that we won't lose our ships again."
"In that case, the idea is doomed to fail," Zion concluded. "The ground forces barracks take up a huge amount of space inside the ship. Let me remind you, the Imperial Star Destroyer is a line-of-battle ship. At least it was designed as one. Until that fool Blisstex decided that using a warship as a universal warfare asset was normal."
"Stationing ground forces on board Imperial-class ships is a sign of the times," I noted. "After the end of the Clone Wars, large-scale military operations across the galaxy ceased. Clashes, though bloody, were not mass-scale. In situations where you need to deliver ground troops, an air wing, and firepower to suppress a rebellion on remote planets, that approach fully justified itself."
"Except now we're no longer fighting individual rebels," Moff Ferrus observed.
"I agree," I nodded. It seemed Zion had something in mind...
"Your proposals are aimed at increasing the firepower of your ships, right?" he asked impatiently.
"Correct," I agreed.
"But all that artillery needs additional power," Reyes developed his thought. "Taking the generators outside the hull would be foolish. The fact that the solar ionization reactor sticks out from the bottom is bad enough. In short, I'm offering you the same thing I offered Grand Moff Kaine — fix the flaws Blisstex introduced. Re-arm the Imperial Star Destroyers, restore the anti-aircraft artillery... Expanding the fighter wing will probably be a problem, as the hangar and its structure are extremely difficult to modify. But I think in the main hangar, above the landing pad for cargo ships, we could install brackets to hold a few more TIE fighters."
"A small number of additional fighters won't solve the problem of inadequate cover," I objected.
"Of course it won't," Zion agreed. "TIE fighters and interceptors are becoming obsolete. Why not consider other options? TIE Avengers or TIE Defenders."
"Moff Ferrus, make a note," I recalled my conversation with Captain Mohr. "Contact the manufacturers about acquiring the Alpha-class strike fighters that were taken from the destroyers when they were transferred to my operational command. I want at least one squadron for each Star Destroyer. Including those ships currently without crews."
"Admirable step," the shipwright assessed. "Perhaps then you'll listen to me?" he suggested.
"What exactly are you proposing?" I clarified.
"Reduce the amount of ground forces carried on the Imperial-class," the shipwright said. "Reconfigure the ship's interior compartments. Install additional reactors inside the destroyer to power extra offensive and anti-aircraft artillery — including covering the hangars and placing turbolasers in the lower hemisphere. Additional fighters — one, maybe two squadrons, by reducing the number of landing craft and heavy vehicles. Say, two regiments of stormtroopers would be enough to repel a boarding action?"
"Quite enough," I agreed. "Provided we supplement them with the droid models we have."
A predatory smile appeared on Zion's lips.
"Finally, a commander without blinders," he said. "I fought with my superiors for five years over the issue of maximum ship automation, but I was always refused."
"I don't intend to let droids control starships," I needed to rein him in immediately.
"And I'm not talking about them," Zion snorted. "The maximum automation systems on the ships of the Katana Fleet allowed the crew size to be reduced by almost eight times. On the Imperial-class, it wouldn't work in those proportions, of course, but I'm confident I can reduce crew requirements by at least two to four times. As I understand, you have a problem with them, since for two of the three Star Destroyers that took part in the Triumph Arc, Moff Ferrus had to use B-1 droids and a handful of recruits." So that's how he did it...
"But you're right, Grand Admiral," Zion continued. "Droids aren't much use in ship control. The Clone Wars proved that quite convincingly. So I propose we study the Katana Fleet automation technology and break the sacred law of Imperial shipbuilding — introduce automation where, hypothetically, ten people are stationed at the same post. After those two hundred heavy cruisers went into an uncontrolled jump, the automation program was buried, along with many wonderful things from the past. But I'm confident that this approach will only make ships better! For example, if an Imperial-class can be confidently operated by ten to twelve thousand people without loss of combat effectiveness, that's clear progress. And if it's also armed the way you want, and the way I can make it happen, then none of your trophies will lack crews."
"In that case, why not give it a try?" I suggested.
"Sir, this is an extremely deep refit," Reyes intervened. "Practically, we'd have to redo most of the ship's internal compartments, change their layout, run new power buses, pipelines, install additional firing points, reactors..."
"But then we could install additional pump generators for the deflectors, like you did on the Chimaera," Zion countered, looking at his colleague with distaste. "And the space freed up from excess barracks, mess halls, berthing compartments, quartermasters' stores, and other redundant sections could be used for additional generators to power the ship's artillery. Like it was done on the Venator-class Star Destroyers — secondary reactors. Except we'll make them as primary power sources as the solar ionization reactor."
"That sounds too optimistic," Reyes said doubtfully, wiping the lens of his eye implant. "It would take a lot of work..."
"Too soft," the shipwright Zion grimaced. "Now I see why that red destroyer of yours still isn't repaired — you're just afraid to really tackle it!"
Reyes opened his mouth to object, but I stopped him with a gesture.
"And you, Mr. Zion, aren't you afraid?" The shipwright met my gaze, then lifted his chin and said:
"Give me that tub with a hyperdrive for a month, maybe a little longer, and I'll show you what a real refit of an Imperial Star Destroyer looks like! I promise you'll have the most powerful line-of-battle ship of this class."
"A rather bold promise," I noted. Glancing at Reyes, I saw he wasn't thrilled. Not thrilled at all. "But I'm giving you carte blanche for such an experiment..."
"Grand Admiral, sir!" Reyes started, but I cut him off.
"Thank you for your trust," the shipwright said with a crooked smile, casting a victorious look at his defeated colleague. "I won't let you down!"
"I'm sure you won't," I agreed. "As you may have noticed, my fleet includes ships right from the Clone Wars. The Providence — and soon a second ship of that class will join the fleet, the Venator, which has already undergone some refit and will soon see battle, as well as an Acclamator. Since you're proposing to reorient my Star Destroyers primarily as line-of-battle ships, I require you to reinforce the armament of the Venator and the Acclamator II. The first, as you know, is armed with only sixteen turbolasers in eight dual-gun turrets, and the second with only twenty-four main battery cannons. So you will be provided with the schematics of these ships. If you want to prove the effectiveness of your project for modifying the Imperial-class, then work first to provide me with auxiliary and landing ships that are armed and capable of fending off an enemy. As I said, I'm interested in standardizing my starships in terms of armament... And the safety margin for reworking the interior spaces of both ship types is impressive. I think eight-gun turbolaser turrets would be suitable during the reconfiguration. And they would fatally surprise any enemy who tries to engage them."
"You don't haggle over trifles, Grand Admiral," the shipwright Zion said, recovering from shock and grinning. "Maybe we should also add launch tubes to them or remove cluster bombs from the MC30?"
"Excellent idea," I agreed, not hiding my sarcasm. "Take care of that first. Moff Ferrus will help you acquire the necessary equipment."
* * *
."..the Nemesis is at your complete disposal," I concluded my briefing to Jade. "Bast Castle must be searched. Everything contained within should be delivered to Tangrene. If there are any Imperial soldiers stationed on the planet, they are to be transferred to my service. Kill anyone who refuses."
"The local population?" Jade clarified.
"It's highly unlikely anyone lives there," I said. "However, that question also needs investigating. If the natives could be of any use to us, we'll deal with that dilemma in due time."
"There may be Palpatine's people in Vader's residence," Jade said. "Or his supporters..."
"Do I need to issue instructions on every matter, Hand?" I inquired.
"No, Grand Admiral," the girl became serious. "I'll handle all problems."
"On a global scale, I seriously doubt that," flashed through my mind.
"Permission to execute?" the girl asked.
"You're still here?" I smiled lightly. Mara flashed her green eyes, spun around, and left my cabin.
Leaning back in my chair, I ran my eyes over the monitors showing reports from the Delta Source.
That sneaky Bothan... Lusankya, you say... Three months until full readiness?
Well, we'll wait.
Patience is something I don't lack.
But by the end of next week, you'll definitely speed up the repair pace on the Executor's twin. And finally, they'll start talking in the Imperial Palace about where you've hidden it...