Nine years, seven months, and twenty-six days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, seven months, and twenty-six days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and eleven days since the Arrival.)
Cutting through hyperspace, leaving light-years behind her stern, the Chimaera was finally returning home after many weeks away.
And parallel to her, from different corners of the galaxy, completing their own missions, dozens of other military and paramilitary starships of the fleet were heading for the former Ubiqtorate base — to repair damage in the comfortable conditions of the orbital shipyard, give the crews a rest, and then rush into new battle.
At the same time, Luke Skywalker himself was sitting before me.
And yes, he was absolutely the version of the American actor Mark Hamill who had aged several years compared to the events of Return of the Jedi. A young man, one of those who had made Lucas's work a cult phenomenon in Earth's culture...
A calm gaze, the same black tunic and trousers, simple boots, hairstyle... Fine, these were details that brought a smile to an old fan's face upon meeting the idol of his youth.
"You refused the bacta tank," I remarked, hinting at the massive, already darkening bruise covering the right half of the young Jedi's face. The subconjunctival hemorrhage in his right eye was almost gone. Quite fast, considering his refusal of medical procedures. But he also couldn't use the Force, as he had been cut off from it by ysalamiri — since the attack and immediately after being confined to the guest quarters aboard the Chimaera. The same as Bel Iblis and his henchwoman Irenez. The other prisoners had an engaging journey ahead of them — another day — until arrival at Tangrene, where they would be placed in the same closed camps that housed the officers from the Allegiance.
"Many of my comrades need it more right now," Skywalker replied calmly.
"You intended to recover using Jedi healing abilities," I said, stating the most likely option.
Luke was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Few people know about such practices among the Jedi," he remarked.
"I know more than most," vague phrases, nothing more.
"So I take it you are that Grand Admiral behind the attacks on the New Republic?" he inquired. For an instant, an expression of simple curiosity flickered across his face, but he immediately resumed his composure.
I had to introduce myself. The young Jedi shifted uncomfortably — it must have been unpleasant to sit before a humanoid of an unknown race without his Force abilities. Unable to read another's thoughts, unable to sense emotions...
"I thought all twelve Grand Admirals had already been..." he hesitated. "Eliminated."
"You are free to think whatever you like," I stated. "The fact remains. Some time ago, General Solo and I already had a thorough conversation about many of the questions you want to ask me. I have no intention of repeating myself — you can ask him about it all when you meet."
"You've met Han?" the young Jedi asked in surprise.
"Some time ago," I confirmed. "When I broke up his task force in one of the star systems."
"Is he a prisoner?" Skywalker asked, trying not to betray his tension.
"No," I replied. "As far as I know, he was picked up by New Republic forces and is currently on Coruscant."
"I see," Skywalker replied. "And now what?"
"That depends on what you want to ask me," I clarified.
The young Jedi looked away, reflexively touching the bruise on his face. He was probably remembering how the Guardsman's vibroblade strike was supposed to split his skull in two, but it hit with the flat of the blade, not the edge. Which, in fact, ended the confrontation between Major Tierce — who had led the assault on the Courage of Braxant — and the young prodigy from the Skywalker family.
"How did you find Garm Bel Iblis's base?" he asked. A good question. Requiring, like our entire dialogue, an answer that wouldn't force me to lie. Because outright deception... Thrawn had never gotten away with it unscathed.
He hadn't been able to sustain the lie about restoring the Noghri's homeworld in the events I knew. He hadn't been able to resolve the situation with the smuggler Mazzic, and it eventually led to the creation of the Smugglers' Alliance, headed by Talon Karrde. He hadn't been able to deceive Mara Jade about his trust in her... Lies are a dangerous seasoning. And using them... Difficult.
So why shouldn't the former rebels, for once in their lives on their path, encounter an Imperial commander who tells the truth? Not a lie, not the truth, but the truth. Because everyone has their own truth. Lies are debunked, and no one trusts their source. And the truth... It's practically unattainable.
So I had no intention of telling the young Jedi about the beacon inside his astromech. On the contrary, right now our technicians were busting their guts to resist the temptation to take the droid apart down to the last screw, to find out exactly how Torin Inek had managed to install the beacon so that R2-D2 couldn't detect it. But the golden rule of mechanics says — if something works as it should, don't touch it. So we limited ourselves to just deactivating the droid and placing it under guard.
"I have my own ways of tracking those who interest me, Jedi Skywalker," I replied.
"What do you intend to do with me?" he asked.
"I'm sure you have your assumptions," I said. "If you want, you can share them. And yes, you are quite wrong not to drink the caf you were offered. Take my word for it — if I wanted to kill you, I would have chosen a much simpler method than poisoning you during a personal conversation."
Pellaeon, sitting a little to the side, almost laughed. He knew how easily Major Tierce, advancing like a deadly whirlwind through the decks of the Courage of Braxant with an ysalamir in a backpack, had neutralized the young Jedi. The mere realization of one's helplessness without the Force — and the young Jedi was no longer a match for a professional killer. Although, I had to admit, Tierce had had to work for it.
"Imperial Guards," Luke said, taking a sip from his cup. "The last time I saw them was aboard the second Death Star, near the forest moon of Endor. They served only Emperor Palpatine and those he ordered them to protect. How..."
"How did they come to serve me?" I anticipated the Jedi's question. He had already seen at least four Guards on my ship — standing guard near the three cabins containing Irenez, Bel Iblis, and Skywalker himself. To completely demoralize these individuals, they were not forbidden from moving between their cabins, so they could fully admire the clones' bearing. Just as Skywalker, having visited each of his friends' cabins, had confirmed he couldn't sense the Force in any of them. Naturally — that was precisely why you were in those three cabins, while the ysalamiri cages were placed out of your sight in the adjacent rooms.
After a moment's thought, Skywalker nodded. He really did want to know.
"I propose a deal, Jedi Skywalker," the young Luke's ears perked up. "You will get answers to all the questions you're interested in, but in return, I will ask you for one favor and demand one item that does not belong to you."
"What item?" he asked immediately.
"A caller, which you found on the planet Dagobah several months ago," judging by how wide the young Skywalker's eyes grew, these were words he clearly hadn't expected. Neither had Pellaeon, sitting nearby.
"You know about that too?" Skywalker said, stunned.
"Yes," I answered simply.
"What do you need it for?" the Jedi asked.
"It will help solve a puzzle," I replied. "And save you and your friends from trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Luke clarified. His hand had already shot to his belt, and he pulled out from a small pouch what I wanted to receive.
"The kind I will cause if I don't get this item voluntarily," I replied simply, taking a sip of caf from my own cup.
I must say, I absolutely do not understand why, according to palace etiquette under the Emperor, caf was considered a drink unworthy of the court. In essence, it's the same as Earth coffee. An apt comparison, really.
Sometimes in beans, sometimes instant. Quality corresponding to the name. After a few experiments, I decided to settle on caf made from kaff beans harvested on the planet Charra in Quadrant R-14. And, not far from the memorable Monastery system. It reminded me very much of the coffee an old friend used to bring me from Bolivia.
"Is that trinket really that important to you?" Skywalker looked with bewilderment at the tiny cylinder with many triangular buttons.
"It belonged to a being I was once acquainted with," a vague answer. Because it wasn't about me, but about the real Thrawn.
"A Dark Jedi?" Luke's eyes widened.
"The Dark Jedi from Bpfassh you're thinking of only used my acquaintance and his team for his own travel," I replied, carefully recounting what I remembered from the novels of that duology. "Now it's a memory. Nothing more."
"Very well," Skywalker reached silently forward across the table that separated us and placed the caller before me. "It's yours."
"Thank you," I replied, unhurriedly picking up the device and putting it in my tunic pocket.
"You mentioned a favor," Skywalker reminded me.
"Yes," I confirmed. "My request will be stated after we have talked. Nothing criminal will be required of you. You can relax."
The Jedi obediently picked up his cup of caf and took a deep gulp. Then, when it dawned on him that the drink — thanks to the built-in heater in the bottom of the cup — was as scalding as it had been right after brewing, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress the pain from his scalded tongue and burnt throat. It looked like tears even welled up in his eyes.
Pellaeon shot me an amused glance, as if to say, what a hick.
I ignored it. This kid could be a farmer from Tatooine a hundred times over, but he deserved respect for his actions. Not all of them, but some.
"You may ask the questions that interest you, Jedi Skywalker," I reminded him.
After a couple of seconds of silence, he blurted out:
"Are you a Jedi?"
Pellaeon, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing. The problem was that he was drinking caf at that moment. It sprayed out of his mouth like a fountain. Onto the floor.
"My apologies, Grand Admiral," the captain said, dabbing his mustache with a napkin. He briefly ordered a mouse droid to be summoned to clean up the sticky stains.
"It's quite all right," I assured him, turning my gaze to the young man. "No, I am not a Jedi. Although, among the representatives of my species, there have been beings sensitive to the Force."
"Then," Skywalker closed his eyes for a moment — I assumed he was trying to call on his superpower... The result was somewhat predictable. "How do you do it? How do you block my connection to the Force?"
"I don't," a simple question, a simple answer. "The Force is still with you, Jedi Skywalker. It simply doesn't exist where you are. My apologies for the discomfort, but when a Jedi is aboard, one has to take precautions."
"Will the Force return?" he clarified.
"As soon as you leave my ship," I assured him. Purely technically — a bit sooner, but that was a detail.
Skywalker was silent for a while, thinking something over, then said:
"I saw you in a vision that came to me on Dagobah."
"Is that so," I intoned. Something new. Because, if I remember correctly, on Dagobah Luke was supposed to see Mara and the episode where the rescue operation on Tatooine, aimed at freeing Han Solo shortly before the Battle of Endor, could have gone off plan. "Interesting."
"A young red-haired woman swore allegiance to you," Skywalker continued. I caught an interested and even disconcerted look from Captain Pellaeon. "Who is she?"
"My adjutant," I replied. "She is no longer with us."
"I see," the kid seemed very disoriented, asking questions... Mildly put, mediocre. "Do you know anything about the disappearance of Princess Leia Organa Solo, my friend Chewbacca, and Generals Cracken, Calrissian, and the Star Destroyer Allegiance in the Milagro system?"
"Your sister and General Calrissian, as well as the Wookiee Chewbacca, are safe and under supervision," I replied. "General Cracken shot himself during the assault on the Star Destroyer, believing that in captivity he would be tortured, and his death would help conceal the Republican spies operating behind the Empire's lines from us."
"Can I meet them?" Skywalker tensed.
"They are at the base we will be arriving at shortly," I confirmed. "If you wish, you may remain aboard the Chimaera until we reach the final destination of our journey."
"Do I have a choice?" Skywalker clarified.
"Of course," I confirmed. "There is always a choice. You can do something, or you can do nothing. The important thing is to see it through to the end, not just try."
Luke looked at me with clear interest: "One of my mentors told me something very similar. I didn't think I'd hear something like that from someone like you."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I promised. "More caf?"
"If I may," Luke said. "You know... the previous times I found myself aboard Imperial warships, the reception was... not so welcoming."
The translation droid, acting as a waiter, slowly poured caf into the mugs.
"The Empire is not a den of evil, Jedi Skywalker," I said. "At least, not all of it. And certainly not the part that is under my command. I see no need for torture or other forms of interrogation when my interlocutors and prisoners are willing to cooperate voluntarily. But," I emphasized, "such indulgence does not extend to my enemies."
"You speak interestingly," Luke replied, taking another sip. "Though, to be honest, I didn't think that after the bloody slaughter your stormtroopers carried out aboard the Valor of Braxant, one could talk about any kind of humanitarianism."
"The boarding was carried out using hand-to-hand combat techniques and stunners," I reminded. "Combat weapons were only used when my subordinates' lives were threatened. I'm sure you understand — I have no desire to lose subordinates where there is no necessity."
"A very rare tendency for the Empire," Luke admitted. "Tell me, why are you acting against the New Republic? After the defeat of Warlord Zsinj, a truce of sorts happened between us and the Imperial Remnants..."
"It's simple," I would have to explain. "I am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces. My task is to fight the Empire's enemies. The New Republic is an enemy, and therefore I conducted campaigns to destroy you."
"And now, are you taking a break?" Skywalker clarified.
"I achieved my goals. And together with General Solo, I delivered a warning to your government — if they do not stop trying to destabilize the Imperial Remnants, my reaction will be corresponding. I regret to inform you that Coruscant has not changed its plans regarding at least one of the Remnants. Despite my warnings, they continue to prepare for an attack. Unfortunately, I am left with no choice but to launch a preemptive or retaliatory strike — that will depend on the current situation at the time of our return to base. However, I must note that in light of recent events, war with the New Republic interests me least of all."
"Why?" Luke asked with interest.
"Because your father aboard the second Death Star did not finish his job," I replied. Skywalker paled. Pellaeon pretended to be interested in how a mouse droid was removing stains from the floor.
"What are you talking about?" Luke asked quietly.
"Darth Vader threw the Emperor down the reactor shaft," I said. "He killed Palpatine's body, but not his spirit. I have already shared the information I know with General Solo, and now I will repeat it to you. Perhaps the Provisional Government will listen more attentively to its only Jedi."
"The Emperor... survived?" Luke repeated, disconcerted.
"Without going into details — yes," I replied. "I don't know exactly how, but his mind was transferred into a cloned body. And for the last six years, he has been secretly drawing the most combat-ready units of the Imperial Army and Navy into the Deep Core. Using them, as well as advanced developments of Imperial military science, in a few months, next year, Palpatine will begin his campaign against the New Republic."
"Why are you telling me this?" Luke inquired. "And not informing Mon Mothma or official Coruscant?"
"For the same reason that neither the Empire nor the New Republic will ever acknowledge the fact of the agreements between General Solo and Admiral Teren Rogriss regarding joint actions to defeat Warlord Zsinj," I explained. "Negotiations of this kind between warring parties would be seen as treason. I have no desire to be executed — I love the Empire, the best of it, and I will defend it to the end. But I will not hand it over to Palpatine. I have studied the Sith and their art enough to decide not to risk so much. I propose that you and your sister, as Jedi, carry out the task of finally destroying the Emperor. And also — to repay the galaxy a debt that arose from your father's actions."
"What are you talking about?" Luke frowned.
"In the last minutes of his life as a Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker, your father did everything to ensure that the Jedi who came to arrest then-Chancellor Palpatine, the initiator and ideologue of the Clone Wars, the author of the campaign to exterminate the Jedi, did not win," I explained. "For long decades, the galaxy fell under the influence of the Sith, one of whom became your father, taking the name Darth Vader. And billions of sentient beings fell by their hands. If the resurrected Emperor is not stopped, billions more will die — but now their blood will be on your hands, Jedi Skywalker."
"Why?"
"Because the Jedi have called themselves the guardians of peace in the galaxy," I explained. "But you don't bring peace. As I already said — your father did not finish what he started. And now the destruction of Palpatine is your task, Jedi Skywalker."
A calculation on guilt and the desire to restore his father's good name, to show that the latter was not entirely... a Dark Lord of the Sith, to put it politely regarding Darth Vader's actions.
"Blood is on many hands," he stated, strained. "Why don't you use your Jedi — Master Jorus C'baoth — against the Emperor? Because, if I understood correctly, you yourself do not intend to openly oppose Palpatine?"
"That's correct," no, honestly, I'm even glad that this kid took my word for it. "I have no intention of interfering in what is happening. As for C'baoth... You see, there is a certain causal issue. Jorus C'baoth cannot join us, for the simplest and most substantial reason. He is dead. As are the members of the Outbound Flight expedition."
"How do you know this?" the young Jedi asked.
"I destroyed them. Many years ago, before the Clone Wars began, this expedition intended to go beyond the known galaxy. That was when I first met Darth Sidious — then still Chancellor Palpatine. He convinced me of the danger of the Jedi, as well as the danger of Outbound Flight's technology falling into the hands of a dangerous and ruthless enemy."
"If Jorus C'baoth is dead, then who coordinated your actions in the Dafillevean sector?" Skywalker pressed.
"Joruus C'baoth," I replied.
"But you just said..."
"Joruus C'baoth is a clone of the original Jedi Master," I had to explain. "He is from the very first cloning experiment of the future Emperor, and therefore Joruus C'baoth is dangerous. Moreover, he is insane. You are quite right — I used him in the operation in the Dafillevean sector. But having realized the danger emanating from him, learning of the Emperor's resurrection, and understanding how insane he would be in a cloned body, I refused the help of the clone of Jedi C'baoth in military matters, distancing him from my troops to avoid the possibility of him subjugating my forces."
"So you are saying that C'baoth is now somewhere completely uncontrolled?" Skywalker was horrified. "You didn't even try to help him?!"
"The defects of a cloned body cannot be fixed," I clarified. "At least not with the resources available to me. Therefore, measures were taken to occupy C'baoth with his crazy idea of restoring a Jedi Order under his control for a certain time, until a solution is found."
"How?" Luke frowned more and more.
"You already guessed," I stated. "The clone of C'baoth wanted to get a Jedi to train — I gave him one who withstood the treatments of Ysanne Isard and did not break."
"Corran Horn fell into a trap because of you!"
"Corran Horn made the decision to go to C'baoth in order to find his wife and father-in-law," I clarified. "And now he is studying under C'baoth."
"You have started a very dangerous game, Grand Admiral," Skywalker lamented. "If the clone of C'baoth is as dangerous as the late Emperor, then he can break Horn's will. And then the galaxy will have two dark Jedi at once, hungry for power and committing atrocities."
"Precisely because of that, as I said, I will have a request for you, Jedi Skywalker," I said, taking a slow sip and looking directly into the eyes of Darth Vader's son. "I can destroy C'baoth at any time. And Horn as well, of course. I can take you to the base, and you will meet your sister and friends. Or — I can give you your X-wing, left on New Cov, your astromech, and tell you the coordinates of the planet where the clone of C'baoth is. You can go there personally or bring backup, you can try to save the clone of C'baoth from progressive insanity. Or you can simply ignore what I am telling you and go wherever you wish — believe me, no one aboard the Chimaera will judge you. Frankly speaking, as long as the New Republic does not touch us and does not try to destroy what I have sworn to protect, I don't care about your state."
"You mentioned a request," Luke said. "What is it?"
"It is about choice, Jedi Skywalker," I explained. "Make a choice. Or don't. Your X-wing is in the main hangar. The droid is in a deactivated state in the maintenance bay. One word from you, and my technicians will prepare your machine for flight."
The Jedi took a small sip, looking at me suspiciously.
"If you are worried that the ship was booby-trapped, you can stop worrying," I reassured. "I do not make a habit of transporting a bomb inside my flagship."
"Why do you offer to decide C'baoth's fate to me, and not do it yourself?" he asked.
"Because when the time comes and the armadas of the Resurrected Emperor move out from the Deep Core, the mad Palpatine will seek only two things — a way to destroy his enemies who ruined his empire, and a way to turn you to the Dark Side, forcing you to serve him," I explained. "And before you think that you can, like your father, bring someone back to the Light, or use Palpatine's knowledge for good by submitting to him, I suggest you solve a similar problem with C'baoth, but on a smaller scale. This should rid you of illusions about your future and your role in the galaxy. Your father caused billions, if not trillions, pain and suffering in one form or another. This will not be forgotten soon, and unfortunately, many will think that the sins of the fathers pass to the children. I offer you an opportunity to prepare for the trials that will soon fall upon you. In the end, the right choice will allow you to lift the veil of secrecy regarding your mother's identity. As far as I know, your father did not tell you about this. And your sister did not know at all — nor did Owen and Beru Lars, who raised you."
"He didn't tell," Luke said gloomily. "Are you saying that C'baoth knows who my mother is?"
"He doesn't even have a clue," I refuted. "The relationship between your mother and father began at the same time as the Clone Wars. The real Jorus C'baoth was already dead by then, and for the clone of the Jedi created by Palpatine, this information would be useless."
"Then I cannot understand how the right choice, by which you mean going to C'baoth, can reveal the secrets of the past to me?" and the kid is quick-witted, he understands hints.
"Like all genius things, it's simple," I replied. "Your choice regarding the course from the hangar deck of the Chimaera is only my request. Revealing your mother's identity is a different request, only indirectly related to going to C'baoth. After you have verified the correctness of my words, we will meet and talk again. And I will tell you who your mother was. And no one in the future will be able to manipulate you to reveal that secret."
"Unless you tell the truth," the Jedi remarked.
"I am not in the habit of lying to allies," I retorted.
"What makes you think I am your ally?" Skywalker tensed.
"From the fact that neither you nor I want a mad clone of Palpatine to seize control of the galaxy and unleash a bloody terror, compared to which the cruelty of the past decades of the Galactic Republic's existence will seem to the galaxy's population only a small prelude."
"What do you want in exchange for revealing my mother's name?" Skywalker asked.
"A mere trifle," I smiled faintly. "Bring me the medallion of the clone of C'baoth and you will get what you want."
For a while the Jedi Knight sat motionless, boring his gaze into me. Then he downed the caf in one gulp and rose to his feet.
"I will need my lightsaber, as well as my astromech, R2," the young man glanced at the half-empty coffee pot. I understand. Caf at a thousand credits per kilogram of roasted beans — that's quite a luxury.
"We will supply you with provisions and caf," I assured. "As well as coordinates for the rendezvous point."
Looking me in the eyes once more, Luke Skywalker nodded silently and headed for the exit.
Looking at Pellaeon sitting in the chair, whose very appearance spoke of the deep stupor he was in, I activated my comlink and gave the appropriate orders.
* * *
In the conference room of his flagship Star Cruiser, Wedge Antilles, out of a good old habit, was about to take a seat somewhere in a corner to hide behind the backs of the others present. He had already sat down, settled in, pulled over the table built into the armrest, when he met eyes with the Mon Calamari standing at the tactical holoprojector — the commander of his flagship.
For a few seconds they silently studied each other.
Until it dawned on Wedge...
"And why are you sitting here, General?" asked Iella Wessiri, who had entered the compartment. "There will be no one besides the three of us."
"Right..." Wedge put on a guilty little smile and, together with the operative, went to join the ship's commander.
"Coruscant will be in contact soon, sir," Captain Jhemiti announced to him. Red-skinned with big eyes... And quite a promising soldier, it must be said. At least Antilles himself had no complaints about him.
The captain, looking around the room as if searching for spies or the smallest flaws, finally nodded satisfactorily, then headed for the exit, leaving Wedge and Iella alone.
"You, me, and the Provisional Government," the Corellian commented to his fellow countrywoman. "I hope they won't give us a proper scolding this time."
"We did good work on Contruum," Iella stated. "And we found confirmation of the Prince-Admiral's involvement in everything that happened. So there's nothing to scold us for."
"Five prisoners died," Wedge reminded. "We didn't manage to save them."
"But we rescued the rest," Wessiri countered. "You can't think that it was all in vain. We are practically one step away from finding and freeing all the prisoners of the Lusankya without exception. Now is not the time to give up or surrender!"
"Who's talking about that?" Wedge hedged. "What saddens me is that we didn't save everyone."
"And the fact that you had to lie about Corran?" the intelligence officer understood.
"Among other things," the youngest general of the New Republic nodded.
The holographic projector lit up, signaling the start of a conference call with command, which saved Wedge from continuing the awkward conversation.
A couple of minutes later, new participants of the meeting appeared before the Corellian pair — the head of the Provisional Government, Mon Mothma, the Supreme Commander Borsk Fey'lya, and Han Solo, well known to Wedge.
After exchanging greetings, those assembled decided that the first report would be given by intelligence.
Iella, connecting her datapad to the holoprojector, moved to the facts:
"The investigation showed that the medical facility on Commenor is exactly the place where General Dodonna was implanted. We interrogated all the prisoners found there and learned that each of them had seen at least once a woman they call Ysanne Isard."
Even despite the monochrome of the holographic connection, Wedge could not help noticing how Han's face became more hardened.
"As far as I remember, General Antilles claimed that Rogue Squadron destroyed the Iceheart," the Bothan stated.
"That is true," Wedge said through gritted teeth. "We have no confirmation that it was actually Ysanne."
"After so many years of torture and torment, the prisoners might not have noticed any differences," Iella supported him. "It could have been a double, or..."
"Or she is alive," Mon Mothma said darkly. "Then that explains the reason we are facing such aggressive actions from Imperial Intelligence — their director has returned to her old ways."
Wedge did not comment on the fact that the ship on which Isard was flying, in an attempt to escape from Thyferra, was destroyed. Simply because he did not want new scandals. They needed to decide what to do next, not engage in wishful thinking. If the Iceheart had indeed fooled them during the Bacta War, then the problem had not gone away — on the contrary, she had a full two years to prepare properly. And this would clearly not be a confrontation with a hysterical lady...
"And found herself an ally in the person of Grand Admiral Thrawn," Han said dryly.
"Did you find information about him?" Wedge perked up.
"General Solo, as always, wants to pass off enemy disinformation as intelligence," the Bothan said indignantly. "Stop doing that, General — you found absolutely nothing in the Imperial Information Center..."
If so, then where else to look for information about this most mysterious Thrawn?
"Because we were beaten to it," Han said tiredly. It seemed he was not entering this argument for the first time. "Winter managed to find indirect evidence that some intrigue occurred at Palpatine's court, after which a certain high-ranking military officer was sent to the Unknown Regions..."
"But before your intervention destroyed all the data in the information center, you found nothing, did you?!" Borsk inquired sarcastically.
Wedge and Iella exchanged glances. The data from the most complete archive of the Empire was now lost to them?! How could that even be?!
"Stop it, Councilor Fey'lya," Mon Mothma demanded. "Agent Wessiri, did you manage to find traces that would indicate who exactly did this to our comrades?"
"A number of direct clues indicate that the equipment supplies were made by a front man," Iella returned to the report. "We traced the chain of fake identities and credentials until we found that this ship and its owner actually came from the Ciutric Hegemony..."
An awkward silence formed on the Coruscant side.
"Krennel," Solo finally forced out.
"Then that explains a lot," Fey'lya stated.
"For example what, Councilor?" Wedge inquired.
"Absolutely everything," the Bothan's hologram's eyes flashed. "Let's go point by point. It was Ysanne Isard who sent Krennel to the Hegemony to capture the now-deceased Sate Pestage. The Prince-Admiral executed the Grand Vizier and usurped power. Isard lost Thyferra, and the Lusankya during this time was preparing for her revenge. And to carry it out, she found Krennel, and together they invented this story about Grand Admiral Thrawn, while actually uniting various killers and criminals under their command, like Captain Shohashi, the Butcher of Atoa. I can even tell where the story about the cartographic expedition to the Unknown Regions comes from — according to the information we have, it was Krennel who went there for a time and returned almost immediately after our victory at Endor. So now, mixing outright lies with grains of truth, the enemies are intimidating us and feeding us disinformation."
"But they have our people," Wedge reminded.
"And we are perfectly aware of that, General," Mon Mothma stated. "That is why, despite all of Krennel's assurances and promises..."
"Assurances?" Iella frowned. "Promises? Excuse me, Councilor Mothma, but what is this all about?"
The head of the Provisional Government looked at Fey'lya sitting to her left. And the Bothan was clearly savoring the situation. The situation seemed as if everything was unfolding in his interests.
"Through official channels we received a proposal from the prince-admiral to grant them a planet for Alderaanian refugees," Mon Mothma said. "He claims he has a suitable world where they will feel at home and never again become a target for enemy attacks."
"Is this a joke?" Wedge tensed. "Everyone knows that Krennel was behind the last attack on New Alderaan. And now what, he's decided to repent?"
"He wants to join the New Republic," Han said.
"What?!" Antilles was taken aback. "An Imperial Remnant intends to become part of the New Republic?"
"This is some kind of elaborate political game," Iella said firmly.
"Oh, you see, Councilor Mothma," Fey'lya's voice purred, "even Agent Wessiri understands that we're being led by the nose."
"Not only that," Wedge's mind was working at a speed that even a supercomputer would envy. "He's simply afraid."
"What are you talking about, General Antilles?" Mon Mothma inquired.
"It's simple," the Corellian declared. "Krennel has teamed up with Isard. Then he, Santhe, and Devian start producing Death Stars. So, what Devian has is already complete. Krennel's is smaller, but still dangerous. They surely know that we have a strong desire to nail the prince-admiral — for the Lusankya prisoners, for the development of a new-generation Death Star… And he definitely understood that we're on the trail leading to the Ciutric Hegemony."
"If Isard is indeed working with him, then it becomes clear what game they're playing together with all this talk of joining the New Republic, the flirtations with the Alderaanians — they're just stalling for time to cover their tracks," Iella said confidently. "I remember the procedure correctly, don't I — it would require approval from a majority of the Senate members to admit an Imperial Remnant into the New Republic?"
"Yes, the situation is extremely complicated," Mon Mothma agreed. "Consideration of this petition is scheduled for the next Senate session. Given that our relations with Lianna are deteriorating every day due to the actions of certain raiders intercepting her ships, acquiring the Hegemony with its industry and factories would be the best move for the New Republic."
"So we're just going to forgive him for keeping our prisoners in inhuman conditions?!" Wedge flared up. "There, on Commenor, sentients were rotting alive, starving, they were being tortured with thirst… And now, when we can nail this… sadist, we simply decide to make him a friend? Despite the fact that he has a portable Death Star somewhere out there?!"
"As I've already said, Councilor Mothma," Fey'lya's voice came through, "rational sentients see Krennel's duplicity and understand what game he's started."
"But why does he need this?" Han asked. "In the Hegemony, there's a human-centric policy. In the New Republic, it's completely the opposite. Join us just to avoid attacks by our fleet? According to intelligence, he has plenty of his own ships. Plus the Death Star…"
"I agree with General Solo," Wedge spoke. "Something's wrong here."
"Nevertheless, the official request has come in, and we have several weeks to discuss all the information — both official and intelligence," Mon Mothma said.
"And what does our intelligence say?" Wedge asked.
"Not Republic intelligence," Borsk Fey'lya corrected, "Bothan."
"Right, of course," flashed through Wedge's mind. Iella, sitting next to him, took a deep breath to calm herself.
"So what does the intelligence say?" Antilles inquired again.
"That Krennel is weakened," the Bothan cooed in a pleased tone. "His ships have suffered considerably during the attacks. And in fact, all he has now is three or four combat-ready ships that are struggling with patrols. The crews are exhausted from the campaigns. And note — almost immediately after General Antilles discovered the superweapon development laboratory on Linuri, the number of attacks on our bases first decreased, and then dropped to zero. For two days now, not a single attack, which indicates that Krennel has withdrawn his ships into the Hegemony."
"Then it's clear why all this started," Iella said unexpectedly. "He's stalling for time with negotiations to restore his fleet's combat readiness. And as soon as it regains strength, the prince-admiral will break off all contact with us and resume attacks. We cannot allow him to repair his ships!"
"But we also cannot attack a state that intends to become part of the New Republic," Mon Mothma explained. "Otherwise we would appear as aggressors, which would alienate many allies."
"Their value is small if justice makes them take a stand and shake their fists," Fey'lya remarked. "You don't seriously think Krennel intends to help the Alderaanians?"
"Why not?" Han asked. "Maybe he himself is a victim of manipulation by someone like Isard or…"
"Grand Admiral Thrawn?" Borsk Fey'lya suggested sarcastically. "A funny little fairy tale, General Solo. But it doesn't hold up to criticism."
"Why is that?" Wedge inquired. "During the Galactic Civil War, entire sectors intended to join us — openly, by the way. And considering Krennel's situation, it's quite possible he decided to switch sides. I'm not saying," he added hastily, "that he can be trusted. It's surely some kind of trap. But we should still verify his sincerity before he gets a vote in our Senate."
"There's nothing to verify there, General Antilles," Fey'lya declared. "Krennel is the source of our problems. He's weakened and stalling for time — even Agent Wessiri understood that. He is behind the inhumane treatment of our prisoners, he is holding the remaining prisoners from the Lusankya. I'll even tell you more. Let me share the latest information. That planet he is offering the Alderaanians as a new homeworld — it means little strategically for the entire Hegemony. A small world. But it's not as simple as it seems."
"What do you mean, Councilor?" Mon Mothma inquired.
"That on that planet, according to our Bothan intelligence, there are prisoner-of-war camps where Krennel is holding our soldiers and officers captured during his inhumane raids," Fey'lya explained. "According to some data, the camp with prisoners from the Lusankya is also located there."
"So that's how it is," Wedge whistled. Looking at the puzzled Mon Mothma, who seemed to be hearing this for the first time, the Corellian said:
"In that case, Prince-Admiral Krennel will certainly try to move the prisoners! He understands that if the Alderaanians send a representative to inspect the planet, the barracks will be discovered and the secret will be exposed. He'll just cover all traces while we're considering his proposal in the Senate. And when someone reminds him of his involvement in attacks on our territory, he'll put on an honest face and say he was framed."
"For example, he'll blame Grand Admiral Thrawn," Fey'lya said, glancing at Han's hologram. Evidently he took great pleasure in kicking the latter every time such an opportunity arose. "You know, General Solo, even the appearance of this 'Grand Admiral' can be attributed to another game by Isard. Take some Duros or Pantoran, properly disguise him, teach him a few verbal tricks — any actor could handle that, especially if his employers have access to the necessary information. And then you can easily use that puppet to divert attention from the main issues and focus attention on secondary ones."
Wedge did not take his eyes off Han. He believed his friend — back in the day, even Dominator Zsinj couldn't defeat Han and his task force, and Zsinj could outmatch even Bothans in cunning. If Han was sure that Grand Admiral Thrawn was a real Imperial, albeit an extraordinary one, then that was the truth.
Moreover, Fey'lya's monologue, traditionally denying everything that doesn't fit into the accepted and propagandized picture of the galaxy he promotes, did not answer the question of another kind — if the Thrawn whom Han met in the Honoghr system was indeed "not real," then who was planning such elaborate and devastatingly destructive operations for him? Krennel? Oh, don't make me laugh — he's as straightforward as the plane of an X-Wing. Isard? Well, one could blame her for intelligence actions, a spy in the Imperial Palace, operations on New Republic bases that occurred without Imperial Star Destroyer involvement, but not tactical operations. The Bacta War proved that Isard is good on her own turf — manipulating enemies. But in combat she isn't worth a bent deci-credit. The one who defeated Han at Honoghr, led him into a trap, and effectively forced him to surrender — that is clearly a superior Dominator. And it's not Krennel. Definitely not Krennel.
So there is someone else.
And Wedge really didn't want to think that Han's guesses were correct — that behind it all was former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant, who had been in the hands of the New Republic for so long, and now had suddenly disappeared.
According to Han, Thrawn knew everything — even things he couldn't have known as an Imperial. Yes, he could have been informed by spies, but… In Antilles' mind, the picture of a fabricated Grand Admiral Thrawn didn't fit together at all. Absolutely. He would sooner believe that the guess about a triumvirate was correct — Grant, Krennel, and Isard acting as a united front. Not at all that the latter two were playing their own game.
"Stop," Mon Mothma demanded quietly but firmly. "This meeting was called to determine our next move, not to hurl mutual accusations."
"What is there to discuss?" Fey'lya asked with some laziness. "We must take advantage of Krennel's weakness and attack his fleet."
"There will be complications in the Senate," Mon Mothma objected. "The prince-admiral used a very convenient moment to involve the Alderaanians. Attack Krennel…"
"And we will find on the planet he promised in exchange for New Alderaan the barracks for prisoners of war, possibly political enemies and other detainees," Councilor Fey'lya practically purred. "As soon as we have the Lusankya prisoners in our hands, our POWs who suffered from Krennel's attacks, we will present the senators with proof of the prince-admiral's lie, and military action against the Ciutric Hegemony will be justified."
"And if not?" Iella asked. "What if it turns out that Krennel moved and hid the prisoners? Will we show empty colonies?"
"He could easily say in that case that those structures were never used, since he didn't do anything and isn't involved in anything, that he never had any prisoners," Han said quickly.
"In that case we'll play the card of holding Krennel accountable for the murder of Sate Pestage," Fey'lya purred.
"So we'll tell the whole galaxy that we're prosecuting an Imperial for crimes against Imperials?" Wedge asked. "Why do I have a feeling that some senator from Kuat will be talking about double standards?"
The Bothan, holding Wedge's gaze, snorted disdainfully, causing his fur to bristle.
"You also forgot, General Antilles, that we possess transponder data from the attack on the Hast shipyards, which Krennel destroyed along with the ships and workers," the commander-in-chief said irritably.
"Which can easily be forged," Han declared. "And we don't have data from engine analysis of the destroyers."
"That pretext will be enough to unleash the full might of the Fourth Fleet on the Hegemony," Fey'lya said proudly. "What can Krennel oppose us with? A dozen battered destroyers and other ships? We can field no less than two dozen Mon Calamari star cruisers alone…"
"I disagree with you," Han suddenly said. "Thrawn didn't destroy my ships at Honoghr. He boarded them. Now let's imagine that Thrawn is a fabrication of Krennel and Isard. That means they captured at least two dozen of our starships — from frigates and corvettes to Mon Calamari cruisers and Star Destroyers. I don't think the missing ships — the Errant Venture, the Liberty, the Insolent, the Allegiance, the Liberator, the Redeemer, and others — were destroyed. We know that the Imperial Remnants are restraining Krennel's ambitions. So why wouldn't he use his attacks to acquire starships that he couldn't obtain any other way?"
"Then things are very bad," Wedge declared. "By the most conservative estimates, he then possesses no less than fifty line-class starships, maybe even more. And with the money he has from trade with the other Remnants…"
"That's putting it mildly," Iella muttered.
"So if he's not a fool, and Krennel is no fool, then in the Ciutric Hegemony a good sector fleet of a hundred or so starships could be waiting for us," Antilles continued. "Remember all those rumors about pirates becoming privateers and raiding our convoys. Or the stories about Mon Calamari cruisers engaging in raiding. That's also a force — and not a small one."
"In that case we need to reinforce our line forces of the Fourth Fleet and send them into the Hegemony," Fey'lya continued. "These attacks have seriously weakened us. We've begun to lose trust among allied systems. In the southern part of the galaxy, entire sectors are starting to grumble. Meanwhile, the situation is getting worse and worse. I can remind you that after the capture of Coruscant and the proclamation of the New Republic, we faced a severe economic crisis — and that's the consequence of the Empire's huge budget expenditures on building the Death Stars…"
"Ah yes," Wedge snapped his fingers in the air. "Krennel might also have his own pocket version of a death ball."
"We must attack the Ciutric Hegemony anyway!" Fey'lya stubbornly insisted. "The provisional government is not disclosing this information, but our economy is on the brink. We have a budget hole the size of that same Death Star. A huge number of ships have to be used as transports for civilian cargo — and that's no laughing matter. We need to respond to Krennel here and now, as harshly as possible, so that we don't appear helpless in the eyes of other Imperial Remnants. We can barely manage the defense of our territories, and if Imperial Space or the Pentastar Alignment joins Krennel, we can forget about controlling the galaxy. From Bilbringi to Coruscant — one jump, and our bases in that area won't be able to hold him back for long. But soon all Imperials will realize that we are unable to neutralize the Krennel threat — and he is one of the least dangerous Imperials among the existing Remnants. The others have armies and fleets many times larger. We can only hope that the operation against Krennel will convince them that they don't want to become our next target. And for that we must act — here and now. While we can still play the cards of the Death Star construction, the murder of Pestage, the torture of the Lusankya prisoners, and the attacks on our territory. And if we confirm his connection with Ysanne Isard, prove the fact of her survival on Thyferra and her complicity in Krennel's affairs — no one will have any questions. If we delay, it will be too late."
The meeting paused, as each of those present was lost in their own thoughts.
"Suppose," Mon Mothma said quietly, "just suppose," she clarified, noticing the predatory smile that appeared on Fey'lya's face, "that I authorize an attack on the Ciutric Hegemony. How do you intend to proceed?"
"Bring the Fourth Fleet there, reinforced by ships from the Bothan fleet, and defeat Krennel in a general engagement," Borsk replied smugly. For a moment his hologram froze, as if he had paused it, and in the next moment a map of the holdings of Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel appeared before the assembled. A good two and a half dozen planets, contained within ten star systems, connected by lines of hyperspace routes. It had everything — from the exact coordinates of each planet, to indications of navigational hazards such as anomalies, massive satellites, black holes, stars, the planets themselves, precise boundaries of planetary gravity zones… And in the center of the Hegemony lay its capital, the Ciutric system, which, like a spider, had spread its webs and frozen in anticipation of prey.
"Everything must be decided by a single strike of superior forces," Fey'lya said. And for a moment Wedge thought the councilor was quoting someone. Well, logically — he hardly developed this plan himself. "Ciutric IV is the main target. It is the most industrialized of all the planets under Krennel's control, and also well defended. In orbit they have shipyards that help Krennel keep his fleet combat-ready. They can't build ships — he simply doesn't have the necessary production — but they do repairs. However, with the pace he is using in capital accumulation and purchases, it wouldn't be surprising if soon he starts using reverse engineering and can secure suitable production facilities for himself. The Fourth Fleet, with Bothan support, will attack the shipyards, capture or destroy the ships under repair, besiege the planet, and land ground forces. Ciutric IV has no planetary shield, only a dozen orbital defense stations of the Golan I and II models. Considering the time needed for reinforcements to arrive, with combined efforts we will destroy Krennel's fleet before patrols from other systems can reach him or support from other Remnants can arrive. Moreover, once Ciutric IV falls, supporting Krennel will become unprofitable and even dangerous. We will occupy the other planets, find the evidence we need, and present it to the Senate."
"And what we don't find, we'll fabricate," Wedge added to himself, remembering the absurd accusations against Admiral Ackbar.
"Do you know which planet the prisoners are being held on?" Mon Mothma asked. Fey'lya, with barely concealed irritation, zoomed in on another planet located on the very edge of the Hegemony.
"Liinade III," there was some displeasure in his voice. Which made it clear — most of the planet is an agricultural world that provides the Hegemony with large food supplies. They also have comlink production. Strategically, the planet is worthless.
"Except that somewhere there are prisons with our POWs," Han interjected.
Judging by the hesitation, the Bothan had clearly forgotten the reason for interest in this planet. Which only added confidence to a simple conclusion: Fey'lya intended to get anything he could from the attack on the Ciutric Hegemony, but freeing the prisoners was not a priority for him. Not even among the secondary objectives.
"There are plenty of other worlds in the Hegemony that could be chosen as a target," Iella declared. "Ciutric is well defended and…"
"For the combined Bothan and Fourth Fleet, the defensive installations of Ciutric IV will not be a problem," Fey'lya said forcefully. "Councilor Mothma! One strike! Just one strike and we will end this threat forever!"
"Or it could be another trap," Han said gloomily. The Bothan hissed indignantly. What kind of primitive behavior was this? He might as well start spitting venom!
"Your opinions, gentlemen, are noted," Mon Mothma said in a calm tone. "Our goal is to free the prisoners. Therefore, the Fourth Fleet together with the Bothans, since they have expressed a desire to participate in this operation, will provide protection for General Antilles' task force, which will handle the attack on Liinade III, locating and evacuating our prisoners. I'm no strategist, but," the councilor pointed to two thin lines diverging from the planet she indicated. "Communication with planets such as Corvin Minor and Vrosinri goes through Liinade III, doesn't it?"
"That's correct, Councilor," Wedge said quickly, realizing what Mon Mothma meant. "Gravitational anomalies prevent direct movement from planet to planet bypassing the hyperspace routes."
"Consequently," she continued, "if we find POW camps on Liinade III and establish a foothold in this region, we will not only cut off three star systems out of ten from Ciutric, but also, under favorable circumstances, be able to trap and force his patrols to surrender in those systems?"
"Krennel is probably more concerned about the loyalty of the planets closest to Ciutric IV to his regime," Wessiri said. "The border worlds, once cut off from the metropolis, will surrender to us without a fight."
Fey'lya looked at all those present with clear suspicion of a conspiracy against his beloved self.
"What do we know about Krennel's intelligence?" Wedge leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I'm worrying too much, but…"
Han Solo nodded knowingly, saying something that alarmed Antilles even more:
"He probably doesn't have his own intelligence, and he relies on Isard and her agents."
"Which means they could know everything about our plans," Iella said, paling.
"For this purpose, we will move our forces before the main strike in various directions," Fey'lya grumbled. "Small groups, squadrons — they will all receive coordinates of various destination systems from trusted individuals. Everything is planned so that our forces do not know the target location until the last moment — it's all calculated so that they arrive simultaneously in the attacked system from different directions."
"You told me about this plan at the very beginning of your revanchist plan," Mon Mothma grimaced. "And you did it in the Imperial Palace Vestibule while I was resting near the ch'ala trees…"
"That was operationally significant information," the Bothan snorted. Wedge wondered who had developed such an interesting plan for the Bothans. Not the former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant again? "Especially since the palace security service has repeatedly reported that every employee has been checked several times. And if you're scared by fairy tales about a resurrected Isard…"
"Do you mean to say all twenty-five prisoners we freed on Commenor were mistaken?" Iella snapped. "And that they didn't get a good look at the face of the woman who starved them and tried to destroy them?"
"So we're supposed to question the actions of Rogue Squadron during the Bacta War now?" the Bothan cynically flipped the table of situational assessments. Well, that was clear — out of arguments, nothing left to cover, so he started making everyone else uncomfortable. A Bothan, in a word. "Accept it as fact — Isard couldn't have hidden in some catacombs for two years. She hates every one of us, and if she'd survived, she sure as hell wouldn't have sat idle. Krennel and his allies are just resurrecting the horrors of old enemies in front of us, like General Solo's interlocutor's tales about Palpatine holed up in the Deep Core, Isard, and..."
"Octavian Grant, for example?" Han asked quietly. The Bothan shot a withering look in his direction. "Or will you say Thrawn's words about your cooperation with Grant are also fabricated?"
"From start to finish!" the Bothan declared, his voice unwavering. But Wedge was certain — the councilor was lying. "Octavian Grant is a war criminal, and any cooperation with him..."
"We've strayed from the topic, gentlemen," Mon Mothma said nervously. Antilles met Han's eyes. The politicians had clearly used the former Grand Admiral for their own purposes and were now trying to sweep his disappearance under the rug. Simply because they were afraid to imagine, even for a moment, that for five long years they had danced to someone else's tune.
"I trust you have a plan of attack for Liinade III, General Antilles?" Mon Mothma asked.
Huh?! What? And why was he the one on the spot?!
"Ahem." Wedge cleared his throat, trying to buy himself a little time. "I have a sufficiently powerful strike force. Four Mon Calamari star cruisers are a formidable force on their own. If we're right and Isard is playing on his side, we might be in for some surprises. But I don't think there's anything the flagship of the Fourth Fleet can't handle." He glanced at Fey'lya. The Bothan tried to look calm, but sparks of rage were clearly flickering in his eyes. "So it'll be no more than a landing operation. We'll move into orbit, thin out the planetary defenses with orbital bombardment and aerial strikes, drop the ground forces along with aerial reconnaissance, and then start clearing identified targets. They're not going to hide prisons for thousands of people beneath the planet's surface. That would be far too expensive..."
"Considering that Krennel positions his kingdom as a haven of peace and tranquility," Mon Mothma said, "the capture of three planets at once and the airing of his dirty laundry could encourage a parade of sovereignties among the planets under his control."
"So we're just supposed to sit and wait for them to repair their ships and counterattack?" Fey'lya asked defiantly.
"We will establish a foothold on Liinade III, find and evacuate our own prisoners, rescue the inmates from the Lusankya, and then strike Ciutric IV with every available force," Mon Mothma stated firmly. "The rescue of the prisoners is the most important reason we are embarking on a warpath with Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel. So," she glanced at Fey'lya, "I hope that this time, unlike at Endor, Bothan intelligence has obtained real data, not disinformation fed to them."
"Our intelligence agents are the most qualified in the galaxy," Fey'lya replied, offended and irritated. "If they say the prisoners are there, then the prisoners are there."
And probably a pocket Death Star too, but why mention that out loud, right? Wedge thought, understanding that if his worst fears were confirmed, he would once again have to sacrifice nearly all his subordinates to destroy yet another weapon of absolute evil.
He could bet his entire annual salary that the moment another death ball appeared near the Republic fleet, the Bothans would be several parsecs away.