After the holographic projector shut down and the volumetric projection of Mara Jade — who had clearly endured some of the darkest moments of her life — faded, the feeling of being on the brink of failure grew stronger and stronger.
So, an entire legion destroyed.
The Hand was a prisoner of some Sedriss QL — a Force-sensitive being in Palpatine's service. And he had already safely left Vjun along with a team of six similar "associates," who fit the local philosophy of destruction and oppression perfectly.
Dark Jedi... As if C'baoth wasn't enough, now these... I'll have to deal with the clone before he joins the mad servants of the Revived Emperor.
But that would come later.
Right now, the priority was to negotiate with a certain Reynar Obscuro — an Imperial Inquisitor in command of a battalion of stormtroopers trained for the local environment. According to Mara Jade, this troop group had been left behind to await the return of the Dark Side Elite — the name Sedriss QL and his six henchmen called themselves. But in reality, they had been blatantly abandoned here, left to chance in my person, which would decide the end of their lives.
An interesting situation. Because I can state with confidence — neither that name nor the "working group's" title mean anything to me. Something outside my memory. So, I most likely never read about any of this; otherwise, there would be at least some associations.
But there were none. The conclusions draw themselves — I don't know what to expect from this group of Force-sensitives. And that's dangerous already.
Why was it all set up this way? The most obvious answer — to delay me. Or to stage everything so that this battalion and the Inquisitor look like the ones behind what happened on the planet. The assumption that Reynar Obscuro and his fighters would fight to the end...
The assumption didn't pan out. The Imperial Inquisitor, trembling for his own hide, proposed a deal through Mara Jade.
Give him a ship and a clear vector to leave the system. In exchange, he's ready to hand over his stormtrooper battalion and Mara Jade.
A decent deal.
But I won't make it anyway. Sedriss QL's behavior revealed an interesting prospect for me, curious for future implementation...
"Prepare my shuttle," I ordered, meeting Pellaeon's eyes. "Two security companies from the 501st Legion will accompany me. Inform the legion commander to hold the perimeter around Bast Castle. Simultaneously, begin deploying reconnaissance and sabotage teams for rapid penetration inside that impressive structure — the sight of which is breathtaking."
"Sir, it could be a trap," Gilad warned me.
"You are undoubtedly correct, Captain," I nodded in agreement. "Which is precisely why reconnaissance and sabotage units are going in first."
"Sir, incoming transmission from Ciutric IV," the voice of Lieutenant Tszhel, who had appeared beside us, startled us both. That young man certainly knows how to pick his moment.
"Prepare the ship, Captain," I reminded him, heading towards the communications bay.
The prince-admiral's face, glistening with poorly concealed delight, could have been mistaken for a polished peggat — a high-denomination coin from Hutt Space, legal tender in most Outer Rim worlds.
"You have done well, Grand Admiral," Delak Krennel said.
"Thank you," I replied dryly, frantically calculating how quickly the news had reached him. It clearly hadn't come from any local analogs of a newspaper. Therefore, Krennel has an informant aboard my ship or fleet. However, the most obvious fact is that the agent network doesn't belong to him, but to his little secret in the red uniform with heterochromatic eyes.
The clone of Ysanne Isard. That woman certainly has the means to gather information on everything and everyone happening in the galaxy.
"So," his eyes gleamed greedily, "when will you deliver the five New Republic Star Cruisers you promised me?"
"As soon as they arrive at my base," arguing with him now would cost me more than it's worth. Time is slipping away too fast to haggle here and now. "The condition of the starships does not match the description we discussed."
"How extensive are the damages?" The smile on the ruler of the Ciutric Hegemony's face wasn't wiped away, but it did fade somewhat. Still, it looked too much like a man concerned that instead of warships, he might be getting top-quality scrap metal — at a very high price.
What caused such a weak reaction? Precisely what prompted him to ask questions and initiate contact right now — data from his spies within my forces.
A perfect moment to check how deeply the enemy agent network had taken root among my subordinates.
"On one ship, most of the electronics and electrical systems are disabled," I listed the damage to the Star Cruiser knocked out of the fight right after the flagship of the Hast shipyard defense forces. "The second has significant hull damage and malfunctions in most of the engine cluster. The third has numerous hull breaches, no artillery, and internal destruction. The two remaining ships designated for the agreed deal are in excellent condition, but they lack weaponry and defense systems."
"Is that so," Krennel narrowed his eyes. "According to my information, you have five more such starships in the same condition as the last two you mentioned."
So, his agents are aboard the ships that participated in the battle — only their crews knew the full tally of captured starships. That information didn't reach Tangrene. At least, it wasn't supposed to through official channels.
The former civilian specialists who agreed to work with us and the captured Republicans had no access to ship or station communications systems. However, this doesn't rule out the possibility that they had their own communication devices — meaning a spy could be among them as well.
Hmm. I almost missed another detail.
Besides the ships that attacked Hast, there were also the tankers in the Munto Codru system that saw our fleet "in all its glory." After completing their mission, they continued to follow the convoy. So, another source of heightened danger has been identified — a spy in my own armed forces.
Well, a lesson learned for the future. Upon the fleet's arrival at Tangrene, Lieutenant Colonel Astarion and the Jensaarai will have to "work" thoroughly with the ships' crews and the other "passengers."
"That is true," I agreed.
"I want the starships in the maximum possible combat-ready condition," the prince-admiral declared. Which meant he didn't want ships that had seen battle. In that case, would I, as planned, repair them with my own resources, or still give him five of the seven least damaged Mon Calamari Star Cruisers — ones I need myself...
"You can pay less than the agreed amount for the damaged starships," I offered. I had to at least try to negotiate.
"I don't want to waste time on repairs," the prince-admiral waved a hand vaguely. "Especially since, according to our agreement, the ships you provide to me must be in a suitable state."
"I am not backing down from my words," I replied calmly, holding the prince-admiral's somewhat insolent and steady gaze. "Five Mon Calamari Star Cruisers without damage will be waiting for you at the rendezvous point."
"Well, excellent," the prince-admiral grunted. "I will eagerly await your message regarding the time and place of the meeting."
"Without fail," I answered, severing the connection with Delak Krennel's location. I glanced at Captain Pellaeon, who was standing nearby.
"Our plan needs adjustments," I said, addressing my flagship's commander, who had approached me after the negotiations concluded. "The damaged ships will remain with us after all."
Pellaeon listened, his lips pressed tight.
"Contact the droid commanders of any five of the Star Cruisers," I continued. "The ships are to drop out of hyperspace in any sparsely populated system of the Morshdine sector, protected by ten Corellian corvettes. We will conduct the transfer after the operation on Vjun is complete, not allowing Krennel's ships near Tangrene."
"Because of the asteroid barrier?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Among other reasons," I replied. "Considering what we've just heard from Mara Jade and what the Inquisitor will tell us, we should prepare the base for a possible siege. Also, begin preparations to evacuate critically important assets to other locations."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon echoed. "But where? Is there a place in this galaxy where the Emperor's insane clone won't find us and destroy us simply for being far-sighted enough not to succumb to his destructive impulses a second time?"
If only I knew the answer to that question. If only I knew...
"You're taking command of the ships, Captain," I said, looking at the commander of the Chimaera. "I'm going down to the planet."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon replied with a mournful echo.
* * *
"Captain Abyss." General Theol Drost, commandant of the Imperial shipyards in the Bilbringi system, tore his gaze away from studying documents on his personal datapad, surveying the middle-aged Imperial officer who had entered his office. "You're on time."
Imperial General Theol Drost.
"Yes, sir," the warship commander replied with restraint. More precisely — the future commander, of the newest Imperial Star Destroyer ever built on Orinda-controlled territory. An Imperial I-class, whose construction was already finishing, whose crew was already in a euphoria of anticipation for their first combat mission. After nearly six months of preparation and training, these thirty-seven-odd thousand men, young and middle-aged, were already burning with impatience, waiting for their ship to rain the fire of its turbolasers onto the ships and planets of the Empire's enemies.
Six months — that's what the workers on the Bilbringi slipways, the most productive, most advanced, and best-equipped shipyard among similar enterprises in Imperial Space, needed to build an Imperial Star Destroyer. Just as in the former glorious days of the Empire. And it was precisely for this reason that Bilbringi was the most advanced and technologically perfect shipyard in this particular Imperial Remnant. Because it was capable not only of assembling a ship from blocks, but of building it from scratch, possessing the full cycle of all necessary production.
"An order has come from the Imperial Ruling Council," the General said after a pause. "And it concerns you, your ship, and your crew."
In that case, why didn't it come through the command network, but is being delivered through the shipyard chief? Abyss grew wary. A Star Destroyer was not the first starship he was supposed to command. In the past, he had risen from a young ensign to the commander of a patrol cruiser. Then came a Carrack-class, and after that a Strike-class. His last assignment — commander of a Vindicator-class heavy cruiser, on which he'd served for several years. And now, a brand-new ship, a carefully and skillfully trained crew (which had been a rare thing in the Imperial armed forces lately, by the way!)... No doubt he had impressed someone at the top with his diligence and tactical skills while commanding his cruiser during the campaign to divide up the territory of the rebellious warlord Zsinj. And the proposed appointment was, even more so, a point of pride for any Imperial devoted to his beloved work!
But none of that was a reason for the change to the last order to be received in such an extravagant manner.
Captain Abyss.
"I understand the situation is unusual, Captain," General Drost grumbled, taking off his uniform cap and running the fingers of his left hand through his hair. "Honestly, I'm at a loss myself. But I have to carry out orders from Orinda. Especially when they're delivered by special couriers."
Now this is clearly not good. Abyss understood: what he was about to hear, he clearly wasn't going to like. Not one bit.
Couriers weren't sent from the capital when a certain order needed to be communicated that didn't involve something so secret that it couldn't be entrusted even to secure communication channels.
Either they wanted to foist a mission from the "those that never happened" category on him, or else...
"The Void Wanderer will not be transferred to Grand Admiral Thrawn's command," General Drost said, chewing his lip.
"Sir?!" Abyss's eyes widened. "Forgive me, but what the Hutta?!"
"That's the order, Captain," Drost said reluctantly. Judging by his expression, he really didn't want to be the conduit between command and the Star Destroyer commander. "We're just executors... Little depends on us."
"General, this is a stupid order!" Abyss's jaw tightened. "My crew and I have been sleeping three hours a day for six months, drilling every single exercise on the simulators! I participated in every Star Destroyer sortie, literally begging other ship commanders to take one watch or another from my crew on board so they'd have practical experience! I squeezed every last bit out of those greenhorns they gave me straight out of the Academy for this assignment! And the Ruling Council intends to send someone else to Thrawn?! Sir, this is corruption, lawlessness!"
"Don't test my patience, Captain," Drost slammed his fist on the table. And it hit Abyss, so to speak. Down to his very core. If there was one thing the General knew how to do, it was inspire fear like no one else.
Because sitting before him now was not just an administrator, a buffer between the command on Orinda and the workers of the Bilbringi shipyards. But a real combat officer, with many military campaigns behind him. Short, muscular, like Abyss himself, this man had the bearing of a professional commando, something many whispered about. But there was no proof of that — at least in the data open for official use. And no one dared to "dig deeper." They simply preferred not to confront the General. To avoid testing the General's abilities in practice.
"Sir," Abyss said through clenched teeth, looking the General in the eye. "Which ship will be sent to support the Grand Admiral, if not the Void Wanderer?"
Drost was silent for a few seconds, not taking his eyes off Abyss. Then he finally looked away.
"None," he replied dully.
"But..." Abyss opened his mouth to express the full range of feelings overwhelming him. However, he decided to keep his assessment of the command's intellectual abilities to himself. "That's wrong."
"I know, Captain," Drost said, somehow weakly and resignedly.
"The Grand Admiral is the only one who continues the offensive and..."
The commandant looked at him with a hint of distaste.
"Save that polemic for your boys, Captain," he advised, switching from a commander's tone to a friendly one, emphasizing the informality of the subsequent conversation. "I don't need ideological indoctrination. If it were up to me, I, like a good portion of the shipyard workers, would have been standing at Moff Ferrus's recruitment centers ages ago, to join the Supreme Commander."
"Why?" asked Abyss, following the senior comrade's advice and sitting down opposite his desk. Catching himself, he wanted to clarify the question, but the General understood him perfectly.
"No one told me anything, Captain," he said quietly. "They handed down an order — on flimsiplast — and right after I read it, the courier burned the document. Didn't erase it, didn't dispose of it in a trash compactor or shredder, but burned it. Do you see what I'm getting at?"
"The Imperial Ruling Council doesn't want any traces of this order left behind," Captain Abyss grasped the full depth of the politicians' planned treachery.
"And I'm of the same opinion," Drost agreed. "Something is happening there." He jabbed his index finger at the ceiling, but clearly didn't mean the dispatch point of the shipyard's administrative section. Still, the idiom was clear without further explanation. "First they demanded absolute cooperation from us for the Grand Admiral, even allowing him to take several specialized engineering and mechanic teams from the shipyard. Then, they subtly hinted that only business relations should be maintained with his representatives..."
"After he crushed the rebels in the Dufilvian sector," Abyss figured out.
"And stopped using Bilbringi as his rear and repair base," the General nodded. "Rumor has it he found himself a new base somewhere. Maybe he settled on Tangrene..."
"Under the wing of the Ubiqtorate?" Abyss was surprised. It was hardly likely the Grand Admiral would be so unwise as to hang such a target on his back. Imperial Intelligence Command, even in the old days, hadn't been known for patience or reasonableness towards senior Imperial Armed Forces officers, and now, when there was no one to rein them in at all...
"That's just speculation," the General said cautiously. "Not necessarily true, but plausible. The only thing we have."
"It would be easier to just say straight out that the Grand Admiral predicted that sooner or later our Imperial Ruling Council would balk and stop supporting someone who's becoming too successful," Abyss winced with disgust. "Frankly, it sickens me to hear all this right now — that instead of helping the Supreme Commander restore the Empire's rightful place in the galaxy, we and the other Imperial Remnants prefer to sit on the sidelines, instead of trusting his genius, which would undoubtedly lead us to a better future than sitting in orbit of fortress planets and enviously watching the enemy take more and more territory..."
"Orinda, like the other Remnants, is playing some game of its own," Drost declared. "They don't help openly, they just provide information security against Rebel intelligence, as they say..."
"If they had allied with the Grand Admiral, they wouldn't have to hide the fact that some of them survived," Captain Abyss noted reasonably. "As it is, they're only doing what requires the least involvement and benefits the Remnants themselves first — catching Rebel spies who threaten them first and foremost. And they put the Grand Admiral on the front lines so they can sit back and rest on their laurels!"
The Captain's voice held bitterness and a quiet fury at what was happening...
He wasn't afraid to speak frankly in the General's presence — they'd known each other for years, and the commandant had repeatedly shown himself on the right side, helping with advice and action. The General hadn't been seen in dealings with the Imperial Security Bureau — at least not in matters that didn't concern direct official duties. Collaboration with counter-intelligence or, Emperor forbid, Imperial Intelligence, was hard to hide among Imperial servicemen — if not facts, then rumors certainly spread fast, like a stellar wind...
If you couldn't trust a proven friend in such troubled times, who could you trust without looking over your shoulder, wondering if the counter-intelligence boys would come for you?!
"The Empire is not moving the way it should," the General said. "Instead of defending its interests, preserving what's left and building on it, our rulers prefer to sit in the shadows, focused on carving up spheres of influence..."
"We're not even a single Empire anymore," Abyss said bitterly. "Just an association of planets under various politicians... Not even military men!"
"That's why the Imperial Ruling Council has restricted the flow of volunteers streaming like a river to the Grand Admiral," the General said in a conspiratorial tone. "He clearly has authority among the military, men like you and me. His victories speak for themselves — even if they can't break the New Republic right now, they undermine its morale and deprive it of equipment. And they inspire other Imperials to take active action! Did you hear about the attack on the Hast shipyards that happened not long ago?"
"Of course," Abyss shrugged. "I don't know the details, but I heard the rebels got a thorough beating."
"Exactly," General Drost smiled. "Prince-Admiral Krennel decided to join the New Republic bloodletting party."
"I thought that was the Grand Admiral's operation," Abyss said, somewhat taken aback. "Rumor has it everything there was simply ground to dust... At least ten Mon Calamari star cruisers destroyed alone... I'm telling you for sure!" Abyss insisted. "A whisper came from headquarters that the Rebels had managed to transmit information that one of the attacking ships was the Reckoning, which is Krennel's Imperial II!"
"Well, I don't know about that, I don't," the General chuckled. "But the Prince-Admiral did approach several shipyards, including Bilbringi, with a suspiciously interesting order." He tapped his finger on the monitor. "Nothing particularly unusual on the surface — turbolasers, laser cannons, ion cannons, shipboard missile launchers... Except," Drost grinned, "he's asking for XX-9 turbolasers."
"The kind mounted on the Republic's MC80s," Abyss said quietly. Then, remembering, he added:
"That still doesn't prove Krennel got his hands on enemy ships. The same guns are on Victory-class ships, for example."
"That's what I thought too," the General smirked. "And he also needs ion cannons from ArMek."
"Your hyperdrive!" Abyss swore. "You're not joking? Those are on MC80s!"
"And we have a large stock of them," the General confirmed. "So the order was sent to him... But I calculated that he placed an order for about seven to ten star cruisers' worth... Maybe he bought spares, but the quantity matches what the Rebels had at Hast too closely. I recall, during the last attack, nearly a dozen of their star cruisers were damaged there..."
Abyss whistled.
"Neat," he assessed. "So now he has a whole fleet..."
"Exactly," Drost said. "No matter how much the government restrained him, Krennel found a way. I think sooner or later, rumors will spread throughout all the Remnants. And then it won't be funny anymore."
"Because that idiot could easily grab a couple of sectors before reinforcements arrive from the core," Abyss understood. "So that's why they decided to hold us back?"
"Or because they still don't want to support Thrawn," the General shrugged. "The situation is clearly not simple, and the bastards on Orinda clearly don't intend to simplify it. I hope they have enough brains to ask Thrawn for help if Krennel goes to war against any of the Remnants."
"If the Grand Admiral even cares about us," Abyss noted reasonably. "As far as I've heard, he has absolutely no interest in politics."
"That's exactly why the Ruling Council is riding on his back," Drost grimaced. "It's all disgusting... Imperials fighting Imperials. When they could unite and give the New Republic a proper thrashing."
"Not with the government we have now," Abyss sighed. "If Thrawn had the same power as Darth Vader, instead of a dozen Star Destroyers and a bluff about finding the Katana Fleet, he would have resolved all the contradictions and finished off the troublemakers long ago."
"Sooner or later, the troublemakers and their contradictions will finish us," the General winced. "As always — the politicians play their games, and the military go along as chits to be traded... I'm sick of it."
"You're not the only one," Abyss said gloomily. "The Empire isn't what it used to be... Internal squabbling instead of fighting the real enemies..."
He fell silent, cutting himself off mid-sentence. He looked at his comrade.
The General smiled a half-mysterious smile.
"Don't tell me you're hinting at exactly what I just thought," he said.
"I'll help organize everything," General Drost replied. "As for you... you're perfectly capable of pulling this off as needed. Soon your destroyer will go on sea trials. All that's left to finish is some parts of the superstructure and install some equipment. By the beginning of next month, all the weapons and standard armament will be in place and delivered. Let's say, a random hyperdrive malfunction..."
"Total nonsense," Abyss swallowed. "No one will buy that. They'll start a real manhunt for us... And the crew..."
"You said you trained them yourself," Drost reminded him. "So test whether that's really true, or if they're just juvenile fanatics who only want to shoot things. Weed out those you can't trust. I'll pick the sharpest specialists and figure out how to get them to your ship. Along with their families, of course... You understand what will happen if they stay..."
"They'll just be killed," Abyss shook his head. "This is madness... this... desertion!"
"This is getting away from the continuation of the Imperial Civil War," the General noted. "Something is brewing, Abyss. Something big. I see massive purchases of weapons and spare parts. Production lines are running at full capacity. There are rumors about increased mobilization... It looks like a redistribution of power between the Remnants is brewing. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be dragged into all this. If I'm right, and Thrawn really is on Tangrene, then against the backdrop of everything happening and the supply problems, an extra Star Destroyer, especially one with a somewhat trained crew, definitely won't hurt him. I'm sure he'll appreciate the gesture and do everything so no one finds us."
"Maybe..." Abyss said doubtfully. "And if not? What if we have to go on a 'free flight' with the ship and the entire crew?"
"Then we'll find ourselves a planet far away from all this mess and live properly," Drost chuckled. "I heard mercenaries with their own ships live pretty well in the Corporate Sector. And in the Outer Rim, you can set yourself up nicely too..."
"Then we'll need a lot of spare parts for repairs," Abyss noted.
"Don't forget which of us has the key to all the warehouses," the General chuckled. After a pause, he added in a quiet tone:
"Just think... If Thrawn hadn't turned away from Imperial Space, maybe we'd never have thought about desertion... We'd serve under his command, build ships..."
"Uh-huh," Abyss grunted. "We can only hope this choice is the right one."
* * *
Judging by the expression on Mr. Fodeum Sabre De'Luz's face, the atmosphere in Bast Castle was as oppressive as it could be. The young Jensaarai looked frankly terrible: he kept wincing, as if in pain, and kept glancing around fearfully. Unfortunately for him, he was the only one in our group moving without the protection of ysalamiri. At the moment, he was the only Force-sensitive being at my disposal. Given the reports from the Fourth Squad, we would almost certainly have to deal with an adept of the Dark Side of the Force. And if it came to lightsaber dueling — and that was practically a genre trope of this universe — it was better to have such a fighter outside the zone suppressing his abilities.
Our escorts — a pair of stormtroopers in armor providing protection from the aggressive environment — marched in step ahead of the group, pointing out directions. Could an ambush be expected from them? Yes, without a doubt, that thought had occurred to me first the moment I heard the proposal for negotiations.
That was why, despite Mr. Obscuro's condition that my troops must remain in place during the negotiations, squads from the 501st Legion were already advancing along the periphery of Bast Castle, invisibly to the enemy, subjugating one floor of Darth Vader's residence after another. Fortunately, Reynar Obscuro had concentrated his troops on defending the main and several secondary entrances, as well as the central chambers. Like the main hall, where we were being led, according to the enemy stormtrooper commander's words. But who would take at face value those who, just a few days ago, had been enthusiastically slaughtering your soldiers?
One way or another, if the negotiations fell through or we failed to reach an agreement, Bast Castle would be taken by storm. And then, dismantled for building materials.
The massive metal doors slid apart, disappearing into the wall slots, letting me, accompanied by the young Jensaarai and two companies of 501st Legion stormtroopers, into a spacious chamber. Despite expecting the interior decoration to be in some medieval style, Bast Castle demonstrated an exceptionally high-tech, high-tech style by local standards. As if we had never left the deck of an Imperial Star Destroyer.
First of all, it was worth noting that, besides the tall figure in black armor and robes, my sight was also graced by an exhausted and clearly much-tortured Mara Jade. The girl's beaten and mutilated body was hard to conceal even in the roomiest of clothes. It was all written on her face.
Even during the preliminary negotiations via holographic transmitter, I hadn't seen the full picture. The girl had been turned into a piece of meat, indicating a complete lack of any compassion towards her. And immediately Leia Organa's torture in the fourth episode of the film saga came to mind... She hadn't had a trace of beatings, despite the fact that the process was controlled by Darth Vader himself and the interrogation was conducted "with prejudice" using soulless interrogation machines. Whoever tortured the red-haired beast had clearly sought pleasure from the process.
Which irrevocably adds "pluses" to the karma of the deceased Dark Lord of the Sith, covered in labels of a ruthless murderer and executioner. Apparently, Darth Vader, even if he wasn't a role model, clearly knew the line between humanity and sadism. At least from what I remember, he clearly didn't cross the line... Maybe Palpatine should have used such "craftsmen" as the Reynar Obscuro standing before me against the rebels, instead of a former Jedi with post-traumatic syndrome and problems with bodily integrity?
"How are you feeling, Lieutenant Jade?" I inquired of the girl, ignoring the impatience etched on the Imperial Inquisitor's face.
"Better than I look, Grand Admiral," Mara Jade said with a clearly feigned light smile. But the tension on her face spoiled the whole farce. Poor girl...
"You came here to talk to me, Thrawn!" Inquisitor Obscuro shouted sharply, drawing my attention. As well as to what was happening behind him.
Several squads of enemy stormtroopers were behind their commander. And even if they remained impassive, one shouldn't delude oneself into thinking that in the event of an open conflict, they would stand aside. A stormtrooper, if well-trained, is always loyal to his commander. Even if the commander is wrong.
"Don't you dare dictate to me, Inquisitor," I said in a calm tone, demonstratively sizing up my opponent with a look. "If you intend to live longer than a few minutes. Regardless of what happens, the turbolasers of the Chimaera and the Nemesis are trained on Bast Castle. Even with the vaunted reaction of Force-sensitives, you won't get out of here alive if you try to cross the line."
The grinding of teeth echoed distinctly through the empty hall.
My, my, what diligence in demonstrating one's anger. Noted.
"I want to make a deal," said the Inquisitor. "I return your subordinate to you, and you provide me with a ship to leave Vjun. Given the circumstances of our meeting, I think neither of us would want to meet in person again."
"You are undoubtedly right about the latter, Inquisitor Obscuro," I agreed. "However, I must tell you straight away — neither you nor your people will receive my ships or leave Vjun in this manner."
Bargaining is an inevitable part of negotiations. Each side deliberately puts forward impossible conditions, so that through discussion and "mutual concessions" they can arrive at a solution that will, one way or another, satisfy both parties.
And these negotiations, unfortunately, are no exception.
"But we agreed everything with your assistant..." croaked the Inquisitor.
"Lieutenant Jade is not authorized to negotiate on my behalf," I declared. "And certainly not to make promises that she cannot fulfill. I command the fleet; you killed my people, tortured my adjutant, and damaged my Star Destroyer. So I will be the one setting the conditions. And providing you a shuttle so you can escape, leaving your soldiers to me, is not part of them."
I don't know how the enemy soldiers reacted to the voiced conditions of the preliminary agreements made between Imperial Inquisitor Obscuro and Mara Jade, but I certainly don't intend to "play" under unfavorable conditions.
"These are the best terms for a deal, Thrawn," Reynar hissed, evidently realizing that I had no intention of supporting his story about supposedly bargaining a ship for himself and his stormtroopers. "Accept them, or..."
"Or what?" I asked. "You'll kill Mara Jade? Go ahead." Green eyes looked at me with surprise. Surprise and understanding. The Hand is well aware that I will definitely not negotiate with this being. Only surrender. And only on my terms. "Immediately after that, you and your soldiers will be slaughtered. Every last one. Bast Castle will belong to me. I'm sure that even you don't know all its secrets."
The Inquisitor nervously clutched his blade. I'm not an expert in the hilts of this type of weapon, but compared to Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber, which dangled from the Jensaarai's belt, or Mace Windu's weapon, what Reynar Obscuro held in his hands was about twice as long. Hmm... And indeed, such weapons had been noted in the literature I'd studied about this universe. Darth Maul, Exar Kun, Bastila Shan, and many others — they used double-bladed lightsabers. If a "standard" one has only one energy "blade," then this one, as the name implies, has two. Well, let's hope that what he actually holds is exactly that type of lightsaber, and not some variation from the series of "light Swiss Army knives." I'm not sure my psyche could withstand the sight of a lightsaber corkscrew or bottle opener...
Hmm... So he's trained in non-standard tactics with this lightsaber. Unlike Fodeum Sabre De'Luz, who, during a visit to Lianna, nearly broke the prop of a light pike. Yes, without a doubt, even in Palpatine's vaults, there was no traditional weapon of the Imperial Shadow Guard. Therefore, for plausibility, I had to attach Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber to a painted metal pole. And pray throughout the entire meeting that I wouldn't have to test that contraption in battle.
"Then what do you want?" the Inquisitor blurted, moving from the prelude of negotiations to the working part of the meeting. Straight to business... I respect persistence.
In truth, the proposal — a battalion of specialized stormtroopers in exchange for Mara Jade and a ship, backed by a promise not to hinder his escape from the planet or hunt him down — seemed decent. Despite the sizeable army of stormtroopers under my command, they were, in the traditional sense, "marines" trained for combat in standard scenarios — ships, stations, planetoids. Send them to Mustafar, for example — they'd manage, but only at the cost of heavy losses. This had already been proven on Vjun — around Bast Castle lay thousands of corpses in the remains of white armor, eaten away by acid. The stormtroopers had executed their standard plan — a frontal assault. For which, indeed, they paid the price. A pity, of course, but nothing can be done about it now.
Time machines aren't used in this galaxy. Even the clones created by Colonel Selid under the "GeNod" program couldn't operate with maximum effectiveness where they lacked specialized knowledge. Everything has limits. The human mind included. You can't cram into a being's head knowledge of how to operate in the air, on water, underground, in acid, in coastal zones, and so on, expecting them to fight effectively there.
In the Stormtrooper Corps, there were dozens, if not hundreds, of different specialization directions and training paths for stormtroopers. And these... well, let's say, "acid" stormtroopers are actually some of the rarest representatives of such "narrow" specialties. Considering how many planets in the galaxy have aggressive environments, having not just "standard" stormtroopers but also fighters who, in addition to general training, have specialized knowledge, is more than necessary.
However, why settle for little when you can take everything?
"You were betrayed by your allies, Inquisitor Obscuro," I said. "You were left here to throw me off the trail. In effect, you and your people were condemned to death."
"Do you intend to lull my vigilance by repeating already known facts?" Reynar bared his teeth. An aggressive young man.
"I want to offer you and your people the chance to serve me," I said, glancing up as if casually, toward the very ceiling of the room. If I remember correctly, the ventilation shafts should still be protected by grates. But since they're not...
"After everything that happened?" Reynar, slightly taken aback, looked with surprise at Mara Jade, who stood next to him chained in heavy handcuffs. The girl also looked utterly stunned. Interesting, what was she expecting? That I'd give away one of the shuttles? Considering their cost — no. I still retained a thrifty attitude toward property from my past life, thanks to my upbringing. We weren't rich, and we knew how to value what we acquired. Even in adulthood, earning decent money, I didn't squander it left and right. But I wasn't a miser either.
"You harmed my subordinate," I continued, nodding toward Mara Jade. "If there is no irreversible harm, then it can be attributed to the costs of the profession. The losses suffered by the crew of the Nemesis are undoubtedly great, and you will have to serve me well to offset my expenses in paying compensation to the families of the deceased." So, it seemed I said something entirely new to the Empire. Because seeing the "acid" stormtroopers exchanging glances among themselves was priceless. "Therefore, I offer you at least partial recompense for my losses by transferring to service under my command. Nothing beyond ordinary tasks will be required of you." I looked at the stormtroopers standing behind the Inquisitor, who continued to glance at each other. Interesting. My soldiers don't behave like that. Is it because they're better trained, or have they simply become accustomed to being surprised by nothing? "Absolute loyalty to me and unquestioning obedience to your commanders. All standard salaries and allowances will be credited to you upon our return to base. All who fulfill their duties honorably will receive privileges. Rebels, traitors, and troublemakers will be executed immediately. Decide here and now — no one else will make you any offers. And as for you, Reynar," I shifted my gaze to the Inquisitor, "I have an exclusive proposal."
"And what might that be?" Judging by the sounds this young man made, he was now trying to figure out whether he was so lucky in his life, or if this was part of a plan to lull his vigilance and subsequently eliminate him. "I didn't cause irreversible harm to your 'adjutant,'" he said, measuring the girl with an appraising look. Then, as if catching himself, he cast an anxious glance in my direction. "I can't sense your intentions in the Force," he said, puzzled. "Nor can I feel any threat from your fighters!"
"Nothing threatens you at the moment," I noted calmly. "And the Force... there are ways to make it stop working."
"How?" he asked impatiently.
"That's classified information," I declared. "Only for high-ranking allies. Join me, and you'll have access to much more than you imagine."
The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously, peering at me. No doubt trying to probe me with the Force. Among Jedi, Sith, and other followers of this form of energy, the widespread use of their abilities sometimes replaces plain logic.
"I hope you've already personally confirmed that neither you nor the Stormtrooper Corps units under your command are of the slightest interest to the Revived Emperor and his aides, and that you all, like me and my people, are nothing more than expendable resources in their eyes." I wasn't afraid to say such frank things about the Emperor's continued existence in the presence of the stormtroopers standing beside me. All of them — those accompanying me to this meeting, as well as those seeping through the ventilation shafts — were clones from the "GeNod" program. Absolute loyalty, no matter what.
"Suppose so," said Reynar.
"In that case, you wouldn't refuse the pleasure of hunting Palpatine's minions?" I inquired. "I assure you, you'll be satisfied with the reward. And with your status at my side."
Inquisitor Obscuro looked around, evidently wanting to gauge the mood of his troops. I'm sure this being isn't as powerful as those who fled Vjun. Otherwise, they'd hardly have left him here as bait and a sacrificial animal. And he was clearly afraid to hunt an enemy capable of killing him. I'm sure that if I gave him a ship, he would have crawled into the deepest hole and stayed out of sight for a very long time, turning to mercenary work.
Hmm... Hunting. Mercenaries. It seems I've again remembered a small detail I overlooked. Well, I'll deal with that later.
"So, what will your positive answer be, Reynar Obscuro?" I asked, not denying myself the pleasure of a slight jab. If there's ever a time to start changing the Grand Admiral's image toward "humanization," why not now? The soldiers won't shoot me in the back, Reynar's opinion doesn't particularly concern me, and Jade... She's no fool. Even at our first meeting, she noticed that something was "off" about me. And conducting negotiations with the Inquisitor after everything he'd done... The red-haired operative would clearly have questions. "Are you ready to follow me and do everything I command without question? The reward for exemplary service won't be long in coming."
Now, on Mara Jade's face, it was clearly written that she had more questions than the expression of her damaged face could convey.
And the answer to them is extremely simple. Palpatine has Force-sensitive beings. They're scattered across the galaxy, and some of them, if I think hard, I can even recall by name, and even reconstruct the chronology of what I've read to find them first. The question is only how to motivate them to recruit?!
The same Jensaarai, even if they are conditional allies, still don't measure up to full-fledged fighters. I recall, in the book "I, Jedi," a person who studied at the Jedi Praxeum for several... hmm... weeks? or months?... one way or another, he easily stood against the Jensaarai. Which clearly hints that in a direct confrontation with others like themselves, Force-sensitives, they would likely lose. So why not recruit more already "active" beings? I promised the Jensaarai knowledge of the Force — I'm sure this being possesses skills that the inhabitants of Suzeffi don't even suspect.
And besides, without the Noghri, I'll need my own liquidator...
"You know how to persuade, Grand Admiral," Reynar bared his teeth, unfastening the familiar hilt of a lightsaber from his belt and cutting through Mara Jade's handcuffs with a crimson blade. Handing her back her own weapon, the Inquisitor looked me in the eyes. Then he slowly lowered himself to one knee, extending his lightsaber to me, and bowed his head.
"I will serve you, but first I ask for help in finding and destroying the Dark Side Elite — Palpatine's minions, on whose orders I tortured your 'adjutant.' They are behind the attack on your ship, the destruction of a legion of stormtroopers, and the removal of everything valuable that was in this Castle."
Glancing at Mara Jade, I confirmed that she was nodding almost imperceptibly in agreement, confirming the Inquisitor's words. Ten meters separated me from my recent enemy. I covered them with a calm step in a few seconds, stopping a meter away from him, watching as Mara Jade flexed her wrists and calculated possible attack paths.
"First, you will tell me everything you know about our enemy, Master Obscuro," I said. "Then we will discuss your future. Whether you remain what you are, or join the Shadow Guard I am rebuilding — depends only on you and your loyalty."
The Inquisitor's head snapped up, a slight squint of his eyes, the fire emanating from them... It seems I finally found a being who had at least heard of the Shadow Guard.
"Give your orders, master," Reynar said hoarsely, lowering his head and handing me his lightsaber with both hands.
With an organized clatter, the "acid" stormtroopers saluted their new commander.
Although this quote is attributed to a president of a country quite unfriendly toward my homeland, at that moment I could not argue with Abraham Lincoln's thesis: "Do I not destroy my enemy when I make him my friend?"
However, in the future, I'll have to come up with several new ways to recruit my followers. Money has a way of running out, but Jedi knowledge... I'm afraid it's still unavailable to me... I'll have to strain my memory to recall the places where Luke Skywalker found Jedi texts and artifacts...
Because going to Yavin IV, where, according to the Jedi Academy trilogy, the unquiet spirit of the ancient Sith Lord Exar Kun resides — who caused no small amount of trouble for the New Jedi Order — was something I very, very much did not want to do.
"Rise, Master Obscuro," I ordered. The man obediently flowed into a vertical position, revealing himself close up to be not so short compared to my own height. "Your service to me begins now. I have a first task for you."
"Yes, Grand Admiral," replied the Inquisitor, hanging his lightsaber on his belt.
"In Bast Castle, there should be an information center or data bank," I said, looking the defector straight in the eyes. "I am interested in the data from it about the mission of the Noghri death commandos sent to search for the planet Yalara. I need both the Noghri and the planet itself. But even more — the cloaking field of that world."
"Darth Vader was not accustomed to collecting his records or keeping logs of assignments," Obscuro shook his head. "Nothing of the sort is here..."
Well, that's bad. But something doesn't add up. If there are no records, then how, in the events known to me, did the Followers of Marka Ragnos manage to find the way to that secret planet?! Was there some artifact? Or perhaps a map indicated somewhere in the form of a cipher or something else?
"But," a smile slid across the lips of the Imperial Inquisitor. "Since you're looking for Yalara, that won't be a problem, Grand Admiral."
What is that supposed to mean?
"I coordinated the mission to find Yalara and its cloaking device," revealed Inquisitor Obscuro. "The Noghri death commandos are still on the planet, awaiting orders. And I know how to contact them and how to reach them..."
Hmm... It seems I do know where we can hide many interesting things from Palpatine's gaze. Not everything, but a significant portion that must be removed from under a hypothetical strike...
And there's also a strong assumption that this very Inquisitor is unknown to me because he was killed by the Followers of Marka Ragnos "off-screen" in the computer game.
Killed... Or became one of them.
In any case, it's better not to turn my back on him.
How inopportune it was to reveal myself to the Noghri, how inopportune...