Nine years, seven months, and eleven days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fourth year, seven months, and eleven days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Three months and thirty-one days since the Arrival.)
A response from Honoghr arrived at the end of our second day in the system. And I didn't like it.
The fleet was frantically repairing both its own ships and the captured ones.
Two escort carriers, two strike frigates, and another two Mon Calamari star cruisers battered to scrap… Honestly, I'd gladly trade the last two for another Star Destroyer. Or at least a crew for the Red Gauntlet. But, you can't have everything…
"It looks like for the next battle we'll need to bring a fleet of passenger ships with extra crews," Pellaeon said with a chuckle, handing me a datapad with repair reports. "We had to significantly thin out the crews of some ships to put together full teams for our trophies."
"Are the prisoners placed on the destroyers?" I asked. Gilad nodded affirmatively. It wasn't easy distributing nearly fifty thousand Republican POWs across six Star Destroyers. The cheapest option, of course, would be to just load them all onto the most battered ship and send it into the local star — then you wouldn't have to worry about the ship falling out of hyperspace en route, or about having too many prisoners… A simple solution, and all traces disappear. But we couldn't do that. Not for humanitarian reasons — but because all the prisoners we'd been so generously collecting lately were destined to be bargaining chips in the later phases of Operation Crimson Dawn. The more we had, the better.
"Any messages from Tangrene?" I asked.
"Moff Ferrus reports that the transfer crews have delivered all five Avenger-class heavy cruisers to the screening system," he replied. "They were each searched on-site beforehand with special equipment for any tracking devices. In coordination with Ryan Zion and Nick Reyes, Moff Ferrus ordered secondary inspections — but this time the ships were already within the masking field's range to block any outgoing signals."
"Results?" I clarified.
"Three devices found on each cruiser," Pellaeon answered. "All in sleep mode. Remotely activated. The equipment was isolated and installed on five freighters doing civilian runs through Hutt Space and the Outer Rim. All according to your instructions."
"Unpleasant, but a fact," I stated. "Someone is eager to uncover all our secrets. Well, let them look far from our sphere of interest. Do we know about the enemy fleet's movement toward the Honoghr system?"
"Yes, sir," Gilad confirmed. "Their course will go through the Rand system, then Minor Kessel, a course correction, and Honoghr. They'll arrive in two standard days."
"In other words, they're taking a well-known and well-traveled route," I voiced my thoughts. "Good, Captain. Any information from Linuri?"
"Scout droids have registered the arrival of a group of armed freighters," Gilad reported. "The Analysis Department says they're using forged ID data for the smuggler Mazzic's group."
"He took his time deciding," I smiled faintly. "Now we wait for General Antilles's squadron to arrive. Let's hope nothing prevents him from getting here on time so the show can begin as planned. Any messages from the Noghri?"
"Just received," Pellaeon's gaze dimmed. And I knew I wouldn't like the message.
I scanned the lines. Understood nothing.
Then read them again. Still some kind of mess.
The third time, it hit me that Stierlitz had been so close to exposure that Bormann was already interested in the fact that the first had a Soviet passport in the pocket of his SS uniform.
It seemed I had miscalculated badly when I sent the 501st Corps units to clear out that Temple. Not only did the sight of that ancient structure give me a feeling like I'd plunged back into reading about the fate of a particularly interesting Jedi and viewing architectural images of the race known as the Rakata. They had ruled the galaxy over twenty-five thousand years ago and possessed technologies beyond comprehension even in this enlightened millennium. Specifically, they created a massive, fully automated space factory that reproduced any type of machinery at astonishing speed. And… a lot of other interesting things.
So, the architecture of the Noghri temple of the ancient gods very strongly reminded me of the architecture I'd seen in my previous life in illustrations of the Rakata capital world. Could they have been here? Without a doubt. Could something valuable be found inside their structure? Probably.
But for that, I'd have to go to war with the Noghri people.
Alright, in order.
First. Relying on my memory from now on was very dangerous. Because in the situation with the Noghri matriarchs, it had failed me.
The plan was beautiful — free the heads of the Noghri clans, then give a speech before them and organize an evacuation of the population to another world. If we squeezed a bit, there'd be room for everyone. And the fact that some would have to sleep in corridors or in quarters packed with three or four hundred beings — well, that hardly concerned anyone.
But I had miscalculated.
The Noghri matriarchs aren't the clan heads. In fact, in the galactic common language, their position from Noghri translates to maitrakh. The meaning is the same — 'matriarch' but it's pronounced differently. Kind of like if my rank were translated not as 'Grand Admiral' but 'Great Admiral'. It's clear they mean the same thing, but the pronunciation and spelling… Well, that's a minor detail. The Noghri aren't 'lodging a complaint' about that.
The dynasts — those are the Noghri clan heads — are expressing their displeasure to me about how I desecrated an ancient sanctuary, a stronghold of wisdom and heritage for the Noghri people, by sending my soldiers there without proper authorization. Notably, this 'petition' is signed by only some of the clans. From what I recall, there are over a dozen, but here there are only nine.
So, it was time to dig deeper into my memory. And if I hadn't been busy with my mental games regarding General Solo, I would have remembered in time that the maitrakh of a Noghri clan is the second-in-command of the clan. A woman who serves as a spiritual mentor for the entire clan, passes down traditions from generation to generation, and handles internal clan matters related to education, literacy, and training. Simply put, the maitrakh deals with the 'internal policy' of the clans, while the dynasts handle external affairs.
However, the question of the maitrakh's authority arises. If Rukh fled when he learned the maitrakhs had made a decision — and they were discussing an 'external' policy matter — then why did he think this decision would be made by the dynasts? I was also at fault, of course. I rushed to the rescue, when it might have just been 'old women's gossip'…
Awkward.
And the arrival of my ships, along with the ground assault, caused displeasure among certain dynasts.
A bit of backroom politics.
After I relinquished my authority as their 'new master,' the Noghri became… let's say, 'more headstrong.' Given Rukh's story, it's plausible this 'petition' was sent by those clans who opposed returning under my command or advocated for an independent foreign policy.
"So," I concluded. "The dynasts of seven Noghri clans are insistently 'inviting' me to Nista, to the Great Hall, to discuss the actions that desecrated their holy place."
"These exotics are getting a bit too big for their boots," Pellaeon snorted. Catching my eye, he looked away: "My apologies, Grand Admiral."
"No need, Captain," I replied. "We're not here to practice eloquence and tolerance. After decades serving the Empire, it should take more than a few vulgar words to draw my attention to their subtext."
"Understood, sir," Gilad said, this time more restrained. "So I take it the original plan has failed?"
"What gives you that idea?" I asked, surprised.
"We came here to protect the Noghri," the Chimaera's commander stated. "First, no one invited us here. Second, invading their sacred place against the matriarchs' will… Now they've gotten so bold they're demanding you appear before them and explain your behavior. Isn't that a bit much?"
"The Noghri don't think so," I shrugged. "It's a normal process following the acquisition of independence — once they stopped serving someone, they figured they could start making demands."
"I'd like to have seen what they'd look like if Solo had bombed their settlements after the Death Commandos wiped out the landing party," Pellaeon said with grim anticipation. "No gratitude for saving their matriarchs."
"The situation is indeed interesting," I said, narrowing my eyes. Fragments of information were beginning to form the outline of a plan in my mind. "We will resolve it radically."
"Should I order the gunners to level the Noghri capital?" Pellaeon asked. "Teach them a lesson in manners?"
"That's excessive, Captain," I said. Seeing the disappointment in his eyes, I added: "For now, at least. Arrange for a shuttle to be prepared. Inform Major Tierce, Rukh, and the Fourth Squad that they will accompany me to the surface."
"Only ten people?" Pellaeon's eyes widened. "Sir, there are thousands of Noghri on the planet, hundreds of Death Commandos… At the very least, the entire 501st Legion would be needed to ensure your safety! But like this… A Guardsman and a Noghri are waiting outside your quarters."
"First, let's not rush things, Captain," I stood up from my chair, automatically locking the computer access with a code cylinder. "The Noghri, even if they live in a primitive social structure, are perfectly aware of our weapons' capabilities. None of them would risk the life of an entire nation just to capture me or subject me to some sort of censure. Especially since they are not united in this emotional impulse. I'm leaning towards this message," I pointed to the datapad, "being no more than a private initiative. Seven dynasts out of the total have signed this appeal."
"The others might have been killed," Pellaeon noted. "Scouts reported that Republican troopers destroyed at least six clan keeps. If the dynasts, as usual, were in their clan keeps, then…"
"Note an interesting point, Captain," I said. "The maitrakh, like the dynasts, should be in their clan keeps all the time. But Lieutenant Page's special forces captured them in the Temple. So the fact that six keeps were destroyed doesn't necessarily mean any dynasts died. There's a clear contradiction in the information we previously had about the Noghri and what we have now. We were told the maitrakh only influence internal clan affairs. Yet, Rukh came to us fully convinced that the maitrakh's position would be the will of the Noghri people."
"Who knows what he imagined," Gilad hesitated. "Maybe he just got scared and took old women's gossip for the truth. And we believed him…"
A gentle hint that the miscalculation was mine.
"Not at all, Captain," I countered. "Rukh is an adult Noghri. Before he joined me, he lived his whole life on Honoghr. He understands and knows the local customs. So if he decided the maitrakh's position wouldn't differ from the dynasts' on this matter… I'm sure we just don't know everything about the Noghri's internal structure. Which of our specialists has been studying their society?"
Not a single muscle moved on the Captain's face.
"No one, sir."
"Therefore, we cannot rule out the fact that the dynasts aren't as independent as they'd like to appear," I said, recalling the old saying that in a family the husband is the head, but the wife is the neck — wherever she turns, that's where he looks. It has its contradictions, but still.
"I doubt we wouldn't have learned of something like that in all this time," Pellaeon said uncertainly.
"Are you so sure of your judgment, Captain?" I asked with a slight smile. "After all, until now we believed that the only fertile area on Honoghr, cleansed of blight and harmful weeds, was the Clean Lands around Nista. And we didn't even suspect the existence of a temple built not by the Noghri at all, but presumably by an ancient, extinct civilization. All the while our garrison was stationed on the planet, our specialists were present — and this lasted for nearly three decades."
Gilad paused, then chuckled.
"Little bastards," he said with a hint of admiration. "We even have the results of orbital scans of the planet — nothing."
"Add to that the fact that all this time the Noghri had droids in the Temple that they couldn't have built themselves," I offered another argument. "And we get a very interesting picture, Captain. We know less about the Noghri than we'd like. Let's go, let's not keep the dynasts waiting."
Indeed… Less than we'd like. Thrawn didn't know the Noghri could identify members of their own clan by scent. I deduce this from the fact that neither Thrawn nor his associates ever reported anything of the sort. I'm sure that if he knew something like that, he'd hardly have sent the Noghri to hunt down the descendants of their former master. And as for Thrawn knowing Darth Vader's true identity, I'm certain of it. He couldn't have not known. The Chiss had access to too many delicate secrets for that fact to have escaped him.
From this, we can conclude that the Noghri haven't been completely honest with the Imperials for a very long time. And strangely enough, that's a good thing.
The Captain and I left my quarters together. Tierce and Rukh, who had been standing guard outside, followed like silent shadows. Pellaeon stepped aside to issue orders to the designated stormtroopers. And I sank into thought. Another unpleasant situation that needed to be resolved quickly to avoid bigger problems. The option of gathering the fleet and leaving, letting the Noghri deal with the New Republic, categorically did not suit me. As long as there was a chance to recruit even some of them for continued service, I had to see this initiative through to the end. And if it doesn't work out… Well, a spaceship wouldn't be crashing onto Honoghr's surface for the first time. As harsh as it sounds, I cannot allow an alliance between the entire Noghri people and the New Republic. It would be a shame to destroy them, of course, but if there's no other choice… You can't just hand the enemy a race of born saboteurs and assassins. Especially under these circumstances, where a misunderstanding could be interpreted by the 'noble' Noghri as aggression by the Empire and me personally against them. This isn't just a shot in the foot; it's an attempt to get a detailed view of an explosion while standing directly over an explosive device whose timer is running out.
I was tempted to question Rukh about the intricacies of the relationship between dynasts and maitrakhs within Noghri society. But in this case, I feared that the real Thrawn might have known about it at some point. If anyone would, it would be him. And so, by repeating my questions, I could plant such great suspicion in Rukh's soul that he might turn from a potential subordinate into a saboteur or worse.
"Sir," Pellaeon said unexpectedly. "You know, you're right when you said the Noghri are well aware of what we have in our arsenal and what to expect from our technology."
It sounded like the beginning of a very interesting story.
"Continue your thought, Captain," I offered.
"The Noghri have traveled on patrol ships with hyperdrives," Pellaeon squinted as we entered the turbolift cabin. Rukh acted as if it didn't concern him. Tierce remained silent. Good soldier. He'd tried to push his own opinion at first, saying he wanted to be a stormtrooper, but no, he endures the hardships of guard duty excellently. And doesn't complain. "They've seen our Lambdas and Sentinels in every possible configuration. What if you arrived in a ship whose capabilities they can't even imagine? Or at least don't reliably know its combat power. Wouldn't that make them cautious?"
I bit my tongue at the last moment to stop myself from answering that I was planning to take the Millennium Falcon for that very purpose. It looks like a civilian ship, but in reality, it packs as much firepower as a regular patrol craft. And it's not very noticeable. Especially the antipersonnel laser turrets.
"Continue, Captain," I said. Gilad had clearly 'unearthed' something. Perhaps on one of the ships captured by our stormtroopers.
"I'll show you on-site, sir," the Chimaera's commander smiled mysteriously. Intriguing.
A few minutes later, we were entering the main hangar bay, where a pair of Lambda-class shuttles stood in a row… Correction. Only one of those two was a T-4a. And the second… An assault shuttle? It had so many guns any boarding pod would be jealous.
"It's been a while since I've seen these, sir," Pellaeon said with a smile. "I was actually disappointed when Moff Ferrus couldn't get his hands on some. But it seems Signus Spaceworks doesn't make them anymore. I searched the open HoloNet for JV-7 sales listings out of curiosity and found nothing. And when I saw it on the list of captured assets on the Red Gauntlet…" Gilad trailed off. It seemed he was planning to requisition the ship for his own use.
"I understand your motives, Captain," I said in a neutral tone. No, I really did understand. Not only is the ship truly beautiful, it's also better armed than a Lambda. Sleeker proportions, a strict, practical look. And what caught my eye, the ship has a rear gun — a twin cannon. And not a laser, but a light turbolaser. So even if some corvette or frigate gets on its tail, it's going to get a 'nasty surprise.' In this context, the Lambda, which has no rear defense, is a clear loser. "A good acquisition."
"It has a single pilot, a crew of six to eight, and depending on the modification, can carry anywhere from ten to two dozen passengers," Gilad continued his story. "This particular one holds only ten. Judging by the interior comfort and new equipment, it was used for transporting special passengers."
"Probably," I remarked diplomatically. "Have you had the opportunity to see what this type of shuttle is capable of first-hand?"
"Ran into them during Outer Rim patrols," Pellaeon's eyes lit up, realizing no 'punishment' was coming. "A couple of times I saw pirates, mistaking them for 'harmless' Lambdas, try to capture a convoy consisting of JV-7s. I've never seen pirate bands annihilated so quickly by a mere transport convoy. I think the Noghri haven't either."
Glancing at my bodyguard from that race, I noted his satisfied nod. This type of starship was unfamiliar to them.
Hell, forget the Noghri. I'd never even heard of a ship like this myself. Though… Was I ever obsessed with a detailed study of Star Wars technology? No, only what was shown on screen, what I could read in various books. And my favorite Star Wars universe authors, Timothy Zahn and Michael Stackpole, somehow didn't really go into 'technical' or descriptive details.
JV-7 escort shuttle.
Either way, this ship... It's beautiful. If it truly is as magnificent as Pellaeon has advertised it here, then I'll most likely have to acquire one for myself — taking "requisitioned" property from Gilad in favor of a higher-ranking officer would be rather petty. I hardly need two personal shuttles, so I could either ask to have the ship that once belonged to Palpatine, which I currently use, stripped for parts in favor of this new vessel (after all, the Emperor spared no expense outfitting his ships; it's a shame he didn't keep the best equipment on Wayland — it was a dusty storeroom, after all). Or I could secretly upgrade the new one... Though, of course, it would cost a pretty penny.
Stop. Let's hold that thought.
First — the problem with the Noghri; dreams of beautiful starships can come later.
"Let's go," I ordered, noticing that the soldiers of Fourth Squad had already formed an honor guard by the ship. "The Dynasts are waiting."
* * *
What does the capital of a clan society look like when its people led a mostly nomadic lifestyle before the Empire arrived on their planet? Exactly — it's mostly a jumble of houses, so lightweight that they clearly don't qualify as "permanent dwellings."
Nista sat in the middle of a brown ocean of green grass, relatively small by planetary standards. From flight altitude, you could see small settlements surrounding the city; at the center of each stood a dukha — the council tent for each of the Noghri clans living on Honoghr. Inside each such tent sat the throne of the clan's Dynast, as well as an altar to the maitrakh. Judging by the size, the interior lacked variety — there was surely only one room inside, as befits simple dome-shaped tents.
What interested us, however, was the largest tent — not just among the Noghri settlements, but on the entire planet: the Great Dukha. It was located, as one might guess, in the center of Nista. Here the Dynasts of all Noghri clans convened when circumstances demanded. Besides the Great Dukha, Nista also had a fairly busy spaceport, through which specialists were exchanged and humanitarian aid for ecological restoration was received. There were also several repair workshops nearby, as well as Imperial laboratories where work was done on decontamination droids. The buildings erected by the Empire stood out favorably against the flimsy Noghri structures — modern materials and technologies had been used in constructing the spaceport and the adjacent Imperial buildings, so this was, you could say, a pocket of civilization.
And that's where my shuttle landed.
From flight altitude, I couldn't see if a welcoming procession was waiting, but the moment I descended the ramp behind Rukh and Tierce, confirmation of my recent logical deductions caught my eye — the Noghri people were divided.
On one side stood representatives of seven different clans; on the other, six more. Which was which, I honestly couldn't say, but the fact that Rukh kept casting quick glances toward one of the seven Noghri warriors left no doubt that his clan was on the opposite side from his and mine. Bad. Because I remember that it was Rukh's brother-by-blade who led the 501st Legion in the assault on the Rakata Temple.
I cast a brief glance at the reception committee, looked around, then addressed the assembled group:
"The Dynasts requested my presence."
"Yes, Grand Admiral Thrawn," mewed one of the seven Noghri warriors. I could tell they were soldiers, not clan representatives, from their unremarkable clothing and the weapons strapped along their bodies. "We demand that your soldiers surrender their weapons."
"Demand?" I looked at the Noghri, simultaneously signaling Tierce to stay put. Because even I felt a momentary urge to start a disciplinary massacre here after those words. "How can someone who doesn't consider it necessary to state his name demand anything from me?"
The calculation was simple — Noghri were expendable to Thrawn. He wasn't obligated to know every random Noghri by face and name. Only the upper echelon, the Dynasts. In a primitive communal system, the fact that a simple tribal member had become known to his ruler was a merit, not an everyday occurrence. So there could be no mistake here.
"I am Ehrikhor, of Clan Ba'ktor," the Noghri said, visibly flustered. Excellent. Caught you. Those confident in their rightness and ready to see things through won't avoid eye contact. It's a law of nature — you looked away, you lost, you admitted your weakness.
"So, Clan Ba'ktor," I said slowly, as if tasting the words. Yes, that name was on the list of the "hosting party." "I have heard you, Ehrikhor of Clan Ba'ktor. Neither I nor my companions will surrender our weapons."
Glances and hushed arguments passed among the group of seven Noghri.
"That is unacceptable, Grand Admiral," the same Noghri said, still averting his gaze from my face — slightly, but noticeably. "My clan's Dynast demanded this..."
"Demanded?" I pressed on. "Are you saying the Dynast of Clan Ba'ktor demanded something from me?"
No, there was nothing wrong with my hearing. But stirring up the crowd with such a flagrant order from one of the thirteen Dynasts (judging by the number of warriors — representatives) — why not?
"It is... necessary..." Ehrikhor barely forced the words out. "For safety."
Really. Diplomats should offer a "warm welcome," not warriors. The latter make it immediately clear what they need and for what purpose. And diplomats... The Noghri don't have any. Not yet, at least. The only one who could conduct such negotiations was a Dynast. But they apparently considered it beneath their dignity...
Wait a minute! Is it just me, or are those six Noghri dressed somewhat "richer" than these seven? And judging by the color of their skin — which tends to darken in Noghri with age — these six have clearly passed their "youthful" stage. Yes, that's it. Some even have gray hair... I see... So seven Dynasts sent warriors, while the rulers of the other six clans came in person. Well, well, well... This should make for an interesting combination.
"Am I understanding you correctly, Ehrikhor of Clan Ba'ktor, that from the moment I informed the Noghri people that the Empire had been deceiving them all this time, keeping them in slavery, the men of Honoghr have grown so weak that a dozen armed beings pose a danger to them?" Why not take a jab at Noghri professional pride?
"No," Ehrikhor flared up. "The Noghri are strong and..."
"I have seen the strength you speak of, warrior of Clan Ba'ktor," I said, putting as much disgust into my words as possible as I looked at the six Dynasts. "Your pilots were destroyed by those who didn't even consider you a threat when they invaded your system. A landing force was deployed on your planet, your maitrakh were taken prisoner — and after that, you dare speak to me of the strength that remains? Don't waste my time, Ehrikhor, of Clan Ba'ktor. I came here at the invitation of the Dynasts. Either you, who dared to speak on their behalf, will escort me and my people to the Great Dukha, or the meeting will not take place."
Forgive me, Ehrikhor. I have no quarrel with you whatsoever. I'm sorry, but you've become a bargaining chip in matters of little "big" politics. If some Dynasts decided they could dictate their terms to me, they are gravely mistaken.
"Grand Admiral," a typical representative of their people stepped forward from the group of six Noghri, bowing his head low in respect. "I am Ir'khaim, Dynast of Clan Kihm'bar. The warriors of my clan are ready to vouch with their blades and lives that they will not allow any Noghri to harm you. May I be deemed worthy of the honor of escorting you to the Great Dukha?"
This one seemed the most quick-witted of the six assembled. Because the faces of the others showed, though not as plainly, a strong desire to throttle the upstart who had proven slightly more clever than the rest.
"I would be honored, Dynast Ir'khaim," I said, looking each of the six "conditionally loyal" Dynasts in the eye in turn, "if you and your like-minded colleagues would accompany me during this journey."
Well then, Noghri, let's see where we stand...
Dynast Ir'khaim bowed and strode toward the dukha. The other six followed. Rukh slipped like a shadow and took a position to my right. Tierce walked silently behind, leading a squad of stormtroopers headed by Sergeant TNX-0297.
The walk didn't take long, and a couple of minutes later we arrived at the large tent. A considerable crowd of Noghri had gathered around it — children, women, young warriors. Some wore bandages, indicating their participation in the recent battle. And if I interpret their slight bows correctly, those standing to my right regarded me more warmly than the rest. Good. Noted.
At the entrance, we were met by thirteen Noghri women. Maitrakh. And I recognized one of them — she was the one who had dislocated Lieutenant Page's shoulders — a two-meter steroid commando — from their sockets. And she looked like a harmless old woman... Honestly, I breathed a sigh of relief when she turned out to be among the six women who bowed to me.
Inside the tent, it smelled of burnt wax, herbs, and spices. The scent came from a massive bowl suspended from the ceiling. It also provided the lighting.
Around the center of the hall stood twelve thrones carved from stone, very similar to those used by commanders on Imperial Star Destroyers. Could it be an imitation of the Empire's external polish?
More math problems. Aren't there thirteen Dynasts? If so, one place is missing, and... Judging by the fact that seven thrones were occupied, the position of one of my supporters is apparently precarious.
"Any of these seats is yours," Ir'khaim said quietly, gesturing to the empty thrones. Refuse? They might take offense. And it's better not to tangle with upset Noghri.
Without overthinking it, I chose the one in the middle. Four Dynasts took the remaining free seats. Ir'khaim stood to my left, while Rukh maintained his customary position. Another Noghri — clearly a Dynast — took his place beside the leader of Clan Kihm'bar. Then again, maybe he wasn't a Dynast at all, but some kind of advisor?
Indeed, how little we know about the Noghri.
Meanwhile, Tierce positioned himself behind both Dynasts, and the stormtroopers lined up along the wall behind my back. The sergeant stood casually, half-turned. On the surface, it looked like a breach of regulations, but it wasn't that simple — from that position, he could watch the fabric wall of the Great Dukha, which would prevent any malefactors from attacking his soldiers from behind.
"Dynasts," the leader of Clan Kihm'bar droned, "Grand Admiral Thrawn has arrived, as you requested."
"Your trial will begin immediately," one of the seven intoned. The vibro-blade in Tierce's hands twitched almost imperceptibly. The six Dynasts were clearly unprepared for this turn of events.
"What are you talking about, Vor'korh?" Ir'khaim demanded.
"You came to us bearing weapons, Grand Admiral," the nasal voice continued. "You invaded our planet. You defiled our ancient temple and disrupted the seclusion of our maitrakh. And worst of all — you entered the Great Dukha armed..."
"Stop jumping to conclusions, Vor'korh," the leader of Clan Kihm'bar hissed. "You're dishonoring all of Honoghr!"
"Calm yourself, Dynast Ir'khaim," I said. "Let him continue."
Vor'korh cleared his throat and continued:
"You brought war to Honoghr, Grand Admiral. The Noghri had chosen their path, but you refused to accept their decision. You brought an outcast to our land," he pointed at my gray-skinned bodyguard. "Seven Dynasts believe you are responsible for the thousands of our sons who died this past day, for our spirits burned, and for our Temple, built by the gods, being defiled. Before you are subjected to punishment, the majority of the Dynasts grant you the opportunity to speak in your own defense."
Ir'khaim, standing beside me, hissed something in his own language. The Noghri next to him gave a barely perceptible nod of his gray head.
"Is that all, respected Vor'korh?" I inquired coldly. The named Dynast exchanged glances with his supporters and nodded.
For some time, I studied all seven Noghri thoughtfully. With a searching, attentive gaze. One of them couldn't hold it — he looked away. I'd bet a Star Destroyer that this was the Dynast of Clan Ba'ktor. Though the Noghri hardly have one lying around in a closet.
"I have heard your ludicrous accusations, Dynasts," my voice was even, calm, firm. "And I reject them."
The seven Dynasts began exchanging glances. Vor'korh opened his mouth, but I cut him off:
"You have already spoken, Dynast. Now it is my turn. Hear my accusations against the Noghri people."
Now a ripple of surprise crossed the faces of all thirteen Noghri. Only Rukh remained impassive.
"The Grand Admiral has accusations to level against the Noghri people?" Vor'korh asked. "Did we not serve you, having been deceived?"
"The Dynasts wish to accuse me of being the one who deceived your people?"
This question prompted another round of whispers.
"No," Vor'korh replied with visible reluctance. "But your words sowed discord in the minds of the Noghri."
"Is that so?" I inquired. "Then it seems we are in the same position."
"May I ask what you are referring to, Grand Admiral?" Ir'khaim asked quietly.
"The same thing, Dynast," I said. "Deception."
"Was there something inaccurate in your words regarding the Empire's actions toward the people of Honoghr?" one of the seven tensed. Yes, Clan Ba'ktor was not distinguished by the maturity of its position.
"I did not say that."
"Then..."
"I told Rukh everything I know on the matter you mentioned," my answer was dry, showing I had no further desire to dig into that topic. "But my accusation concerned the Noghri themselves."
"It is dishonorable to accuse the clans of deception!" Vor'korh flared up.
"Is it really, Dynast?" I smiled. "Perhaps you can tell me that the Noghri were always frank with me when they served me?"
"Without a doubt," my accuser said confidently. Let's call that his role in this proceeding. "The Noghri never hid anything from you when you were our new master."
"Dynast Ir'khaim," I addressed the specific Noghri. "What punishment awaits a Noghri who lies to his master?"
"Death," he replied. "But the Noghri have no master..."
"For the moment," I clarified. "Because I freed you from that burden. You served me for many years. And all that time, you were deceiving me."
"An outrageous lie!" Vor'korh declared.
"Is that so, Dynast?" I inquired. "Then perhaps you and your like-minded colleagues can remind me of a time when the Dynasts told me about the temple of their gods and the contingent of droids that serviced it?"
The fire in my accuser's eyes dimmed somewhat.
"That is in the past," he said uncertainly. "It... doesn't count."
"A very convenient position, Vor'korh," I assessed. "The Dynasts have decided to remove from their guilt that which tarnishes their reputation. If I had done the same, the Noghri would never have learned that their life-debt, which your entire race owed to Darth Vader, was never real. What say you, Dynasts? Since you have decided to forget your own deception, perhaps I should omit this little detail as well?"
The seven Dynasts remained silent.
"Or perhaps I should forget that the Noghri, after I became your new master, neglected to mention several commando squads sent from Bast Castle to search for the hidden planet Yalara?"
Without exception, the faces of all the Dynasts darkened.
"Or should I forget that the Noghri, by withholding information from me, forgot to tell their master that they possess the ability to recognize beings by scent, determining their clan affiliation?"
The Dynasts' heads sank into their shoulders.
"You are silent, clan leaders," I said. "You find it unpleasant to hear accusations directed at yourselves. Because you know — if I had not freed you from your life-debt and service to me, after Darth Vader handed your people over to me like some object, your new master could, under these circumstances, have demanded the execution of all the Dynasts. And all those Noghri who knew of these secrets and did not tell me."
The Dynast standing next to me, Ir'khaim, began to tremble slightly. And with good reason — every Noghri on the planet knew of the peculiarities of their sense of smell. And even if not all could use it, many possessed such knowledge. In essence, this would have meant a bloody decimation, had I chosen to give such an order when I commanded them. And if that had happened, execution would undoubtedly have fallen first on the Dynasts. All of them. Then the maitrakh. The common Noghri would also have been affected, but... Well, those are bloody thoughts. Meanwhile, a fertile audience is waiting.
"You summoned me here to judge me, Dynasts," I continued. "Very well. I have considered your accusations. You accuse me of invading your planet. I do not deny this fact. Nor do I deny that a Noghri asked me for help — my trusted bodyguard, Rukh, pleaded for your salvation."
"He is a traitor and an outcast," Vor'korh grumbled. "He left the planet without the permission of the Dynasts and..."
"Since when am I obligated to know what happens on Honoghr after I freed you from your life-debt?" The question made the seven Dynasts exchange glances. And fall silent.
The advantage of dealing with young races who have just gained their freedom is that formal freedom does not mean the instinct of submission has faded from their minds.
"So the argument about my treachery and violation of your laws because of Rukh does not hold water," I continued. "No inhabitant of Honoghr reported that Rukh is an outcast and has no right to speak on behalf of his people."
My bodyguard shot me an interested look. No, I remember the conclusions I shared with you. And you understood that I was not appealing to the natives of this planet for no reason, taking you and your confession out of the equation.
"I came in response to your call for help, coming from the matriarchs," I continued. "And you hold that against me."
"The maitrakh do not possess such authority," Vor'korh stirred and reviving.
"Do you want me to confirm yet another deception on the part of the Dynasts?" I clarified. Taking it all in. Because the stakes are high. And logic is an undeniable thing. "Or do you, Dynast Vor'korh, wish to lie to me by claiming that the maitrakh, who are supposed to remain in their dukhas and with their clans, just happened to gather in the temple of the gods? And not once, but twice. The first time — when Rukh left you. The second — when they were taken hostage. Do you wish to lie to me, Dynast Vor'korh, by saying that your assurances about the position of the maitrakh in Noghri society fully correspond to what you previously told me about your people?"
Another roundabout phrase to make them think about their own missteps. Even if I am wrong in this specific case, it is extremely unlikely that the Noghri revealed all the secrets of their culture to the Imperials. Because that couldn't have happened — the Imperials never studied the Noghri. Therefore, the formality of the accusation is satisfied.
"You, Dynast Vor'korh, accused me of defiling your ancient temple, built by your gods, by giving the order to free your maitrakh. And again, the facts speak for themselves. Would I deny ordering my soldiers to attack the Republicans who had taken your women hostage? Would I deny that this took place on the grounds of a temple whose existence I knew nothing about, because the Noghri deceived me and did not tell me of it? Would I deny that amidst barren hills and flowering trees — whose existence the Noghri also did not reveal to me — my soldiers fought side by side with the Noghri? Or should I deny the fact that not a single Noghri informed us that that land, that temple, and those maitrakh inside were inviolable? No, Dynasts," with each new question of mine, both the prosecution and the defense looked more grim. "I will not deny it. After all, you will not deny that you lied to me for so many years, hiding the existence of the temple and another fertile part of Honoghr besides the Clean Lands?"
The Dynasts were silent. And if you looked at the leader of Clan Ba'ktor, he seemed ready to keel over without any outside help.
"You accused me of entering the Great Dukha bearing weapons," the continuation of this absurd trial only added more and more gray hairs to the heads of the Dynasts. "But this fact, Dynasts, I will deny."
For a moment, the thirteen high-ranking Noghri sat in silence, then looked at me.
"What do you mean, Grand Admiral?" the leader of Clan Ba'ktor inquired.
"Does anyone here see a weapon on me, Dynasts?" I placed my hands on the armrests of the throne and looked at them.
"No," Ir'khaim said with a slight smile. "You are unarmed, Grand Admiral. Only your soldiers are. And no one demanded they surrender their weapons before entering the Great Dukha."
"It was demanded they be surrendered at the spaceport," the leader of Clan Ba'ktor said.
"I do not answer to the Dynasts, maitrakh, or anyone else on Honoghr," each word like a nail driven into a coffin lid.
"No one has the right to enter the Great Dukha with weapons," Vor'korh said. "You were commanded to surrender them."
"Commanded?" I repeated. "Since when does the Noghri people have the right to command me?"
"But such is our law," the clan leader declared.
"Is that so?" I clarified. "Then can you produce this document, certified by the identifying marks of all the Dynasts?"
Silence.
"Such is the tradition," the same Dynast said.
"I respect the traditions of others," my nod to the leader of Clan Ba'ktor was more like a mockery. "But why was this tradition not applied to me and my people when we visited Honoghr before?"
"Then you were our new master," the morally crushed Dynast said plaintively.
"Oh, I see," I nodded understandingly. "So it turns out Clan Ba'ktor has the courage to demand things only from those who are not its master? A pathetic sight."
"You are insulting..." the offended one began, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
"I am stating a fact," the Noghri growled, his voice barely intelligible. "If such a tradition exists — to enter the Great Spirit unarmed — then why was I allowed in accompanied by armed soldiers? Why wasn't the weapon confiscated at the landing pad? Were you afraid it would be used? Absurd. I have never used a weapon against peaceful civilians who posed no threat. You feared that, in that case, I would refuse to meet with you and leave Honoghr. That is why I am here, Dynasts. You wanted me to come to this trial. I have fulfilled your wish. And every argument you have presented is ridiculous, absurd, and preposterous."
"We agree with you, Grand Admiral," Dynast Ir'khaim said. "These accusations have no basis. On behalf of all Noghri, I ask you to forget this moment, so as not to damage our good relations..."
"I have not finished, Dynast Ir'khaim." The clan leader fell silent as if he had never opened his mouth at all. "I have refuted your arguments and accusations, Dynasts. But you have not bothered to do the same with mine. I have caught you and your people in lies, deception, and manipulation. You have apparently forgotten that I sent you all possible aid and placed at your disposal all Imperial technology that was in your use. I came to your aid in a difficult hour, and instead of simple gratitude, I received accusations and was slandered. Dynast Ir'khaim, what punishment is prescribed for a Noghri who slanders?"
Dynast Ir'khaim, as if stung, darted his gaze between his supporters and opponents.
"Which of the Noghri has slandered you, Grand Admiral?" Vor'korh inquired quietly, as if exhausted. Judging by his dulled gaze, he already understood everything.
"Is it not you, Dynast, who accused me of entering the Great Spirit armed?" A clarification that earned only the glassy stare of the accuser, who in an instant had become the accused. "As we have already established, I have no weapon on me."
"No..." the clan leaders echoed in unison.
"So it follows that here, in the Great Spirit of the Noghri people, I was defamed by Dynast Vor'korh?" The named Noghri looked at me as if the devil himself sat before him. Then again, considering the glowing red eyes... perhaps he was not far from the truth.
The question required no answer.
"You said I brought war to Honoghr and that Noghri warriors died yesterday because of my fault," I continued. "And once again, a lie from Dynast Vor'korh. The New Republic came to Honoghr because of Executor Sedriss, a servant of Emperor Palpatine, who transmitted the coordinates of your world to General Han Solo, the husband of Princess Leia Organa Solo, daughter of Darth Vader."
A stir ran through the Noghri.
"Darth Vader has a daughter?" Dynast Vor'korh clarified. "Not only a son, but also a daughter?"
"Yes," I confirmed my own words.
"You knew this and did not tell us," Dynast Vor'korh's voice grew stronger. "You lied to us!"
"Did I?" I asked him with irony. "Perhaps, Dynast, you or other Noghri learned of this on your own? Or did you not hear it from me? Just as you did not hear about the existence of Darth Vader's offspring at all?"
There was nothing to counter that with.
"I interrogated General Solo," the story continued. "Sedriss promised to reveal the secret location of his wife if he would bombard Honoghr."
A whisper of confusion rippled through the Dynasts.
"Do you have proof?" Dynast Vor'korh asked.
"Rukh was present during the interrogation," I said, indicating the bodyguard. "My bodyguard," a gesture toward Tierce.
"An Outcast has no credibility," Dynast Vor'korh rejected the offer. "And the guardsman... He is your man, Grand Admiral. He cannot be objective."
"But an audio recording can," Rukh suddenly said. A small infochip appeared between his fingers.
The little bastard. He recorded our conversation. On one hand, I wanted to hug him, because it solved a great many problems. On the other, to strangle him, because he acted behind my back. Conflicting feelings.
None of the Dynasts even moved to retrieve it.
"Do you so desperately want to blame me for all your troubles that you won't even listen to confirmation of my words?" I said in surprise.
"There is no need, Grand Admiral," said the Dynast of the Bak'toor clan. "You... have never lied to us. We believe your words."
"Why would Palpatine want to destroy us?" Dynast Vor'korh asked.
"Because Noghri are trained to kill, destroy, and sow chaos," I explained. "And now they do not serve the Empire. From a potentially valuable resource, you have become a burden that the Empire's enemies could turn against it, and against Palpatine personally. I already told Rukh this. I am certain he relayed these words to you."
"He did," Dynast Vor'korh reluctantly confirmed.
Silence fell. Questions asked, answers received. The tribunal had reached an impasse. The point of no return had been crossed, and none of those present knew what to say. Except me. I would not have agreed to become a target for accusations if I did not know how to turn the situation to my advantage.
"So," I said, deliberately slowly. "When may I observe the punishment of Dynast Vor'korh, who has twice defamed me?"
Those present remained sullenly silent.
Interesting customs, this people has. I wonder if there are other forms of punishment here besides execution and exile.
Though, looking at the situation from another angle, the Noghri are warriors of honor. And when honor is stained, it can only be washed away with blood. Or by removing the traitor from sight. Is it effective? Most likely, yes. Because I have not heard of there being even a handful of defectors among the Noghri.
"When will the Noghri who lied to me when I was your master be punished?" Judging by the grim looks the Dynasts exchanged, their legal system had no statute of limitations on punishments. Which was indirectly confirmed by Rukh's words that he would become a target for any Noghri he met while being an outcast.
"You are silent," I stated. "You are afraid. You are afraid of having to answer for your deception. Afraid that you will be executed — like any Noghri on the planet who withheld information from me, which essentially means all Noghri. Afraid to look in the eyes of the one who freed you, the one who came to protect you. The one whom one of you defamed and tried to humiliate by disarming his guard. The Noghri have changed since I returned your oath to serve me and freed you from your life debt. You are confused, offended, pacing from corner to corner, hoping to find your own path. You want justice from me, do you not? Is that why you summoned me?"
The Dynasts raised hollow gazes to me. All of them were crushed and humiliated — both those who had shown me loyalty and those who had demanded my punishment. Because every one of them had a guilty conscience.
"The Noghri, under the leadership of these Dynasts, have violated their own code of honor." I didn't know what it said, but I was certain the guilty parties would "fit" some postulate or other to today's situation. "And the punishment for this crime is death. I am entitled to demand fratricide from you, to stand at the threshold of the Great Spirit and watch as the Noghri people tear their own hearts apart, choosing between the honor of their people and the lives of their tribesmen. And what is even more important — carrying out the punishment would orphan thousands, if not millions, of Noghri children..."
A doomed silence hung over the Great Spirit. Even Rukh sat with slumped shoulders, staring at the ground with vacant eyes. Because he, too, had lied.
"You summoned me to a trial," the tragedy was approaching its finale. "And I am ready to deliver my verdict. By the right of your former master, deceived by his subjects. By the right of a guest who was humiliated and defamed. By the right of a protector who came to save, but became the victim of empty accusations, which are, in essence, lies. On your knees, Dynasts of the Noghri clans. I am about to dispense justice!"
With a moment's hesitation, fourteen Noghri knelt. Rukh, though he was not among them, even as an outcast, followed the laws of honor of his people.
"Look at him, Dynasts," I rose from the throne, slowly moving toward the exit. "An outcast whom you stripped of family, clan, and home because he did what he believed was right. He kneels beside you, ready to kill himself, knowing he is just as guilty as all of you, as your entire people! You turned away from him when he traveled across the stars to bring you salvation. General Solo assured me he did not intend to bombard Honoghr. That he planned to land a force and conduct reconnaissance. This has happened before in Noghri history. When a Confederacy ship crashed and poison began to kill your world, soldiers in snow-white armor came to the planet. Clones, led by Jedi, who were searching for information about the cargo the downed ship was carrying. You killed them, and they killed many Noghri in return. That would have happened this time as well. And then another force would have come to the planet to avenge their comrades' deaths. And that is exactly what is happening now — the New Republic is moving toward Honoghr. And after everything that has happened here, today, in the Great Spirit, I have no intention of defending this world. Let it burn, for there is no honor here." I paused for a moment. "But perhaps justice has descended here after all."
The Noghri did not raise their heads.
"The punishment for all your crimes is death," I continued. "That is what Noghri honor demands. But your lies have also trampled my honor. And in my opinion, death to cleanse my honor would be too easy a punishment for you. Raise your eyes, Noghri, and hear your sentence!"
Fourteen pairs of eyes rose almost in unison. Hollow, crushed, devoid of spark... They might as well be dead.
"I sentence you to life." One phrase had the effect of a bomb going off. The Dynasts, uncertainly, as if not believing their ears, exchanged glances, then looked at me, waiting for an explanation.
"I freed you from the life debt that was obtained from you by deception," a reminder would not be out of place. "As part of the just punishment for my deception, I demand that you reinstate Rukh into society. He will no longer be an outcast or a lawful target. He is a Noghri who will have more honor and loyalty than any of you. And that is precisely why the second part of your punishment will be as follows. Now you, Dynasts, will go to your clans and tell them everything that happened here and now. You will tell every single one — the old woman and the old man, the man, the woman, and the child — how you were disgraced, and how you and the other Noghri brought shame upon yourselves. I grant you all your lives. And those among you who believe that by giving you back your lives I am saving them and therefore am entitled to a lawful life debt from the Noghri, must begin immediately to gather your belongings. Those Noghri in whom there is still honor and a desire to follow the ancient laws will come with me and serve me. Not because of deception or falsehoods, but because it will be your own decision, one that will not change until the end of your days. The rest of the Noghri I do not wish to know, and they no longer exist for me; their fate does not concern me. I have delivered my verdict. Go and proclaim it to the Noghri people."