Nine years, eight months, and nineteen days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fourth year, eight months, and nineteen days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and four days since the Arrival.)
"I hate this pageantry," Tyberos said, though he understood he didn't have the slightest chance to object to what was happening.
A new governor was arriving in the Karthakk system.
Who it was, what tasks were set before them, how further interaction would proceed — unclear. Exactly as unclear as was possible.
"You're not the only one," grumbled the chief engineer standing next to him, Nick Reyes.
The man who handled repairs and commissioning of all military equipment stationed in the Karthakk system for the Imp… Dominion had turned out to be a very interesting conversationalist. Smart enough to understand exactly what Tyberos wanted after the Black Pearl's repairs. More than once, he'd proposed rather interesting design solutions, like abandoning the remnants of the aft "fin." Given the enormous number of vacant rooms on the ship, reassigning them to increase the protection of compartments vital for the ship's trouble-free operation was the right call.
As was the current operation to install Mon Calamari ship turbolasers aboard the Black Pearl. Yes, they weren't Imperial-pattern eight-gun turrets, but they were certainly better than that Confederate junk that had been onboard all this time.
A lot of money was needed to upgrade the ship so it would no longer be a burden in an artillery battle. Now, with the updated power system, improved shield projectors and generators, reactors, and modernized artillery, the Black Pearl could match an Imperial Star Destroyer. Not in the best configuration, but still.
Very soon the flight deck repairs would be completed, and then, after being equipped with Nimbus-class fighters from old Imperial stocks, the Black Pearl could go raiding again. The crew had been assembled — from both Lok and Maramere residents. In principle, nothing extraordinary should be expected from them — ordinary beings who'd undergone training, but they still needed combat cohesion. Weeks would pass before the crew began to feel like a single unit. But the result would be worth it.
They stood, drawn up in two ranks — on one side stood representatives of local settlements and planets, on the other — Imperial commanders in charge of bases, stations, or ships in the system engaged in its defense. Of course, there weren't terribly many of them — for some reason, the officers commanding Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers, and their crews, didn't much care to socialize with anyone, preferring to stay aboard their ships and assist with repairs. Or else — to conduct maneuvers, tests, firing drills…
In short, the regular troops who were only training here (which was correct — operating far from the enemy's eyes) weren't particularly eager to interact with the auxiliary forces or their comrades in the defense fleet. Well, that was their business — no point in forcing themselves on them.
Over there, Irv and Vain weren't thrilled about this stupid "lineup" either, judging by how animatedly Yazuo was drilling something into his commander's ear. Poor commander of the Colicoid Swarm. To have to listen to so much — you'd need nerves of dura-steel. Judging by the expression on Irv's face, he was already quite tired of his subordinate. Or was he so displeased that they'd been pulled out of "free hunting" and forced to return to Lok?
The section adjoining the main landing pad of Fortress Nima had been chosen for the meeting. After landing, Nima's personal fighter (which was taking far too long to arrive, despite Thrawn's assurances) would be rolled in here. For now, everything had been polished to a shine by service droids.
Pageantry, nothing else…
Finally the "Lambda" with the Dominion crest painted on its hull landed. By this time, after standing around for about half an hour, those present were thoroughly bored.
"Attention!" the major general commanding the garrison of Imperial soldiers and stormtroopers on the planet suddenly barked. A tough man, really. Tyberos had tried to "build bridges" with him. Covell had thrown him out, cursing him out in the highest Galactic with a triple-decker string of profanity. Quite powerful, though. Seemed like an ordinary army general, but acted like a seasoned stormtrooper. No compromises, only concerned with carrying out the tasks assigned to him. "Atten-tion! Eyes front!"
And what was he hoping to achieve with those commands? Most of those present had nothing to do with the armed forces; for them, despite being in auxiliary force uniforms, these commands were nothing more than empty words. No matter how hard Dominion instructors tried to instill order in the ranks of recruits by opening training bases, they couldn't turn yesterday's civilians into competent soldiers overnight. Maybe that's why no major operations involving auxiliary forces were conducted — only endless training and drilling? In practice, only the "wolf packs" and the Colicoid Swarm went out on "hunts." Even the fully crewed Mon Calamari cruisers were currently used exclusively for maneuvers and crew training.
Maybe with the arrival of the new governor, everything would change…
When Tyberos saw two guards in blue-black robes descending the ramp — identical to the Imperial Guards who protected the Grand Admiral (except their clothing had lost its crimson hues, replaced by blue) — he became seriously interested.
He'd actually thought the guards were exclusively for Thrawn's personal protection. But apparently not. Or were these new recruits assigned to important figures?
What would he see… Perhaps they were here to guard the new governor and…
When he saw the being moving behind the guards' backs, Tyberos nearly burst out laughing.
Seriously?
What kind of parody of an Imperial Moff was this?
Compared to the two hulking figures standing at her sides, and even the two who appeared behind her, this young woman was physically tiny. Barely a meter and a half tall, mid-length black hair, violet eyes that stood out from the crowd, an Imperial uniform with Dominion chevrons — it should have been impressive, of course. And Leonia Tavira's bearing made you forget her small stature. She walked, stepping primly on her short but elegant legs.
Tyberos barely suppressed a laugh, noting that she had to take two quick steps to keep up with the measured pace of her guards. The woman's face showed concentration, her attentive gaze assessing everything that came into her field of vision.
Black gloves, contrasting with the dark gray-green tunic, gripped a short black riding crop. Even standing a fair distance away, Tyberos could feel the energy flowing from her violet eyes.
She looked at the Dominion officers, whose faces held not a hint of amusement, then at the auxiliary force commanders. She was conspicuously playing with her crop, pointing it now at one, now at another person present. General Covell, walking slowly beside her, offered brief explanations, apparently — introducing the beings and giving short characterizations. The guards reformed into a four-person rank behind her; the former pirate queen's relaxed gait contrasted sharply with the formality of the proceedings. When she approached the "wolf pack" ship commanders and walked along the line, she began tapping the crop against her left palm or lightly touching her chin with it.
Tyberos strove to keep an impassive expression as she passed him, and suppressed every reaction when she cast a quick glance his way. They weren't closely acquainted personally, but he'd seen her a couple of times at his fights in the pits in Hutt Space.
Only when she was this close did the privateer notice silver threads in the woman's black hair. Either done intentionally, or evidence of beginning gray hair. Funny — "little Tavira" had always kept herself in excellent condition, which correlated with rumors of her insatiable "male appetite." Legends were told about the number of her lovers when she'd led her own pirate organization. Some even said that getting aboard her destroyer through her bed was the easiest way. But you had to please and intrigue Tavira herself. She adored strong and mysterious men so much that she was ready to throw herself at them.
True or not, despite his own attraction to interesting women, Tyberos had no desire to get to know the lady better. Not only did she have a bad temper, but she lost her lovers with enviable regularity. And the ways they died were always varied — some were shot on her orders, some died during missions…
Either way, getting involved with her was more trouble than it was worth. No, once or twice could be done, why not. But the problem was — if you caught her fancy, she'd latch onto you like a tick and turn any alpha male into a henpecked husband and personal toy. And then, when she got bored — she'd kill him. Tyberos had no great desire to end his life standing before a line of stormtroopers firing a volley from their rifles.
And then the meaning of what was happening dawned on Tyberos.
Putting together the fact that Tavira had walked past the Imperial military without even deigning to look at them, but had focused her close attention on the "wolf pack" ship commanders, the privateer guessed what was going on here.
Tavira was choosing herself a new male.
Oh, you insatiable Twi'lek mother, this raider enclave was about to turn into a brothel.
What part of his anatomy was Thrawn using when he put this thoroughly messed-up lady in charge of the system from which raids on New Republic communications originated? And there were still plenty of factories being built here, ships constantly arriving with cargo… And all this wealth — into the hands of this druun?
No, the Grand Admiral couldn't be that… shortsighted.
Tyberos froze, struck by a guess.
What if Tavira had already "made a play" for Thrawn? And gotten her appointment that way? Oh, in that case, he wouldn't envy whoever was stupid enough to agree…
"You're cute," he heard Leonia's languid voice, which affected him like a bucket of coolant poured without warning over a naked body.
But looking around, he realized he was safe.
She stopped in front of Captain Irv, but the tip of her crop pointed at Yazuo Vain's chest:
"Well…" the half-blood hesitated. "Thanks, I guess?"
Tavira stared at his face for a while, holding a pause so long that everyone started getting nervous. Irv and Tyberos most of all. Since the others had already mentally buried the smiling Vain.
"I guess," Tavira said slowly, licking her plump lips. She was literally devouring the boy with her eyes. And he just stood there, grinning like an idiot, not understanding the threat hanging over him.
Now it was clear why Tavira had ignored the career officers — she couldn't order them around or have any influence over their fates. But the former pirates, now auxiliary force commanders…
Apparently, they were exactly the ones who fell under her command. Bantha poodoo!
"Get your ship ready for departure, Captain Irv," Tavira said suddenly, looking at Vain's neighbor. Her voice shifted from playful to metallic. And, frankly, a shiver ran down Tyberos's spine. "Grand Admiral Thrawn has approved your plan."
"Yes, ma'am!" Irv said quietly, staring straight ahead and doing his best to impersonate an unfeeling block of wood.
"Capture, not destruction," Tavira declared. Tyberos, along with everyone else present, didn't even try to understand what was happening. Healthier that way.
"Order understood, Moff Tavira," Captain Irv snapped. "May I request support? Captain Tyberos's Black Pearl is coming out of repair soon…
You bastard! Couldn't he keep his mouth shut?
"Oh yes," Tavira purred, shifting her gaze to the subject of discussion, "Captain Tyberos. A familiar name…"
As she stepped toward the privateer, the man called upon the Force with all his might to gain the ability to become invisible. It didn't work. Damn capricious Jedi sorcery!
"Are you ready to join Captain Irv's free hunt, Captain Tyberos?"
If only I knew what its goal was, Tyberos thought.
He wanted to refuse, since Reyes had promised to think about armoring the Black Pearl's bridge (as it was, you flew around like you were in an aquarium), but on the other hand, getting out of the system meant getting as far away from Tavira herself as possible. How was this option for saving his own life bad?
"If that's the command's order — then yes, I'll carry it out," he answered diplomatically, remembering in time that he was technically under the direct command of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Supposedly.
Tavira nodded understandingly, tapping the tip of her crop against her dainty chin in thought:
"Waiting for Grand Admiral Thrawn to issue you a personal order?"
Tyberos nodded in reply:
"Yes, ma'am."
Smiling carnally and shooting him a look with her unusual violet eyes, Tavira turned and looked toward her shuttle:
"As it happens, Captain Tyberos, Grand Admiral Thrawn has more important matters to attend to than risking the secrecy of our location. The order for a paired hunt against the Luminii pirates comes directly from him. And so you don't doubt whether I'm showing any self-will," Tyberos didn't miss that the woman cast a quick, almost frightened glance at the guards standing nearby, "he asked me to give you something important. But since I'm not a fan of dreary ceremonies, I embellished it a little," she pointed her crop-wielding hand toward her ship.
Tyberos turned his head. And barely suppressed his urge…
Under the escort of two squads of stormtroopers, walking down the ramp were…
Captain Nima and Aurra Sing.
Two beings toward whom he felt diametrically opposed emotions.
But right now, he was utterly bewildered and surprised.
Not by the resignation and doom frozen on the pirate's face. Not by the rage twisting the mother's grimace. And not even by the massive shock restraints clasped on both prisoners' wrists.
But by the bright red bows tied around each prisoner's head.
"What the…?" escaped Tyberos's lips. But he felt a short jab between his ribs from the crop.
"I hope you liked everything, my dear," Leonia Tavira practically whispered, having come up so close to the privateer that he was literally within arm's reach. So close you could feel the warmth radiating from her body. And the scent of sharp, nostril-stirring perfume. "These are just the very first of the gifts awaiting you."
"Well… bantha poodoo!"
* * *
The moment her brother appeared in the doorway of her quarters, passing through the short corridor separating the entrance door from the wide arch leading into the living room, Leia threw her arms around his neck.
"Luke!" the girl embraced the Jedi in a sisterly hug. "Praise the Force, you're back!"
Somewhat taken aback by such a welcome, the young man looked bewilderedly at Lando and Chewbacca sitting in the living room. Although everyone was alive and well, the friends' appearance was, to put it mildly, very "not good."
"Has something happened?" he asked, carefully hiding the anxiety in his voice. Could something bad have happened to them while he was away? But Thrawn had promised full safety!
Then again, he himself had already thought more than once about how this man shouldn't be trusted. And besides, that strange attack on Polis Massa…
During his journey, Luke had replayed the events countless times in his head. And he'd come to the conclusion that he'd never once seen anyone sensitive to the Force near the Grand Admiral. On the contrary, apparently, Thrawn belonged to a species that remained outside the Force, which was surprising for the galaxy. Though, Hutts and Toydarians were immune to Force influence, so much still remained unknown to the young Jedi in this galaxy.
But another question arose, arguing against Thrawn and the Dominion being behind the attack on him — why would they try to capture him at the other end of the galaxy when they could easily have detained him on Ciutric IV? What was the point of relocating Leia, the children, Winter, Lando, Chewbacca, and Senator Garm Bel Iblis to the ruler's residence if he didn't intend to keep his word and release them?
Luke certainly believed in his own abilities and those of his friends, but he doubted that if Thrawn had wanted to keep them, they could have broken through the endless patrols of stormtroopers from the 501st Corps, clad in blue-black guard uniforms, and those gray-skinned, terrifying-looking aliens who were almost never seen, but whose periodic appearances Luke kept sensing before his departure…
And overall, they were treated here… mostly with indifference, but with slight irritation. As if they were guests who'd dropped in unannounced, and now no one knew how to get rid of them.
"No," said Leia, pulling back from her brother. "It's just… I was worried about you. A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night screaming. I had a feeling like darkness was enveloping you and pulling you away…"
The Jedi, who was also the princess's older brother, smiled timidly.
"The Force is growing stronger in you, Leia," he explained. "I really did find myself in something of a… tight spot."
"Anything serious?" Lando inquired.
Luke wasn't ready to share the details of what happened on Polis Massa just yet. At least not the last part.
"Imperial Star Destroyers decided to see me off before I left," he said. "They attacked Polis Massa as I was already leaving…"
"Thrawn!" Lando categorically named the culprit.
His sister, frowning, looked at Calrissian. Even Chewbacca growled disapprovingly, not believing it.
"I don't think so," Luke explained his point of view as best he could. "Why let me go and then try to detain me at the other end of the galaxy?"
"Right," Leia supported him, casting a suspicious look his way. It seemed his little sister really had grown stronger in her use of the Force. "If he wanted to put on some show with your departure but not let you get far, he could have set a trap somewhere in Hegemony territory."
"And what were the Imperials even doing on Polis Massa?" Calrissian asked. "Again, they could have intercepted you on your way out — there aren't that many jump vectors from there…"
"They must have decided to act for certain," Luke suggested. He wanted to say that the Imperials had probably wanted to test his combat level in a lightsaber duel, but he was afraid to tell that part of the story. Because there was a thought floating in his head that the most likely being to have sent servants trained in the arts of the Dark Side against him would be Palpatine. And Leia was better off not knowing about him for now. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm back, which means we can all start preparing to leave for the New Republic?"
"Yes," Leia said tiredly, sitting down on the small couch. "Winter is with the children for now. As soon as they wake up, they'll be ready for the trip. The doctors just this morning handed me the originals of all the observation results, analyses, and checkups."
"Jacen and Jaina are healthy?" Luke asked. From his sister's calm, he guessed it couldn't be otherwise — otherwise his sister would be humming in the Force like a storm cloud ready to erupt with lightning.
"Yes," the princess confirmed. "Perfectly healthy. The Imperials gave them their initial vaccinations…"
"Which is more of a reason not to let us out of here ahead of time," Lando noted.
"Unfortunately, no," Leia sighed. "In the New Republic, there's no obligation for parents to vaccinate their children, but under Imperial law… A child cannot leave a medical facility, let alone go into space, without a full set of vaccinations. And you can't get them one after another… In short, if it was an attempt at trickery, it was…"
"I assure you, Princess," Thrawn's voice, rich with overtones, nearly made Luke jump. Because he hadn't sensed anything behind him, and the voice came so suddenly… "No attempt at deception."
How the Grand Admiral had appeared in Leia's quarters remained a mystery. No one had heard the door open, which suggested some secret mode of entry existed that left no trace.
"You could have at least knocked, for the sake of common courtesy," Leia muttered.
Thrawn stood silent for a second or two, then reached toward a nearby wooden piece of furniture — a cabinet — and rapped his knuckles against it several times. But even then, not a hint of emotion crossed his face.
"Is that sufficient?" he inquired of those gathered.
Leia gave a restrained nod.
"Do you always enter like a thief, Grand Admiral?" Lando asked, staring at Thrawn from under his brow. Judging by the hands resting on blaster hilts, this didn't sit well with Thrawn's escorts — a man with a major's command insignia and a gray-skinned alien they called a "Noghri." Apparently, these were the ones from Honoghr they'd heard about earlier.
"I beg your pardon?" the Grand Admiral repeated.
"How did you manage to get through the door without setting off the alarm?" To be honest, Luke could even grasp the essence of the question and why Lando had chosen to act this way.
"If you didn't want anyone entering, you should have closed the doors," the Grand Admiral advised. Those present looked at the young Jedi.
"Don't they close automatically?" Luke clarified, realizing he was somewhat... technically illiterate. But who would have thought that in such an enlightened age, hinge-mounted doors would still be relevant in such respectable places?
These door panels are made entirely of wood shipped from Kashyyyk," Grand Admiral Thrawn said. "No one would spoil such a treasure with electronic inserts. They're on hinges."
"Luke," his sister sighed with a note of disapproval. Apparently, she hadn't wanted anyone to witness their conversations. "Be more attentive next time."
"I don't think it's a major problem," Thrawn remarked. "So, drawn by your conversations outside the quarters, I couldn't miss the opportunity to speak with you before departure. Yes, Princess, you are quite right — the inoculations are mandatory. And I intended to return you to the New Republic long before Counselor Organa-Solo's delivery date."
"And why didn't you?" Calrissian asked.
"I could be wrong, but traveling through hyperspace isn't very beneficial for newborns," Thrawn noted. "However, according to the doctors' conclusions, your children are now strong enough to make the trip. Wherever you might wish to go…"
"Yes, but you've arranged it all so that it seems the children received Dominion citizenship, and the New Republic provided you with ships to exchange for us," Leia stated.
"Do you want me to tell the entire galaxy the truth?" Thrawn's right eyebrow arched upward.
"The truth?" Luke hadn't caught the latest news, but he very much hoped it would be clarified for him.
"If you wish, Counselor, I can issue a statement to the galaxy explaining that the New Republic actually intended to attack the Oplovis sector," Grand Admiral Thrawn offered. "But in that case, nearly fifty thousand prisoners of war would remain in labor camps…"
"That's not necessary," Leia said quickly. "Thank you for the offer, it's not necessary… Just let us leave."
"As you promised Luke," Lando added.
"Your ship is ready for departure; the transports with prisoners are also ready to head to the rendezvous point," Thrawn stated. "The government of Agamar has agreed to act as a neutral party for the transfer. Given that we purchase food supplies from them, I assure you, I would not risk bringing a larger number of ships there than agreed. The people of Agamar have been so nervous lately… So, you needn't worry — my ships will only escort you to the planet, hand you over to the New Republic forces, after which we will depart, having received our cargo of provisions."
"Only if this isn't another one of your ambushes," Calrissian declared, continuing to stare defiantly into the Grand Admiral's eyes.
"You'll never know for sure until you try," Thrawn smirked. "As far as I'm aware, the battle group that will provide security and meet the prisoners is commanded by your husband, Counselor Organa-Solo."
"Han?" Leia was surprised. Apparently, the news surprised her, but she immediately composed herself. "Excellent."
An awkward silence fell. The Grand Admiral apparently wasn't in a hurry to leave.
"Was your journey enlightening, Jedi Skywalker?" Thrawn inquired.
"Quite," Luke replied dryly.
"Were my data confirmed?" Thrawn continued his interrogation.
"Yes," Skywalker admitted reluctantly. To be honest, he didn't want to discuss family matters with anyone except part of that same family and friends…
"Really?" Leia gasped.
Luke nodded silently.
"Our mother was Senator Padmé Amidala Naberrie of the planet Naboo," he said. "I have copies of the recordings... and evidence."
Lando whistled softly. Chewbacca growled animatedly, expressing joy for his friends.
"Well," Grand Admiral Thrawn summarized, "one less mystery in the galaxy. Allow me to congratulate you on clearing up that page of your murky past."
"Thank you," Leia muttered.
"I am grateful for your help, Grand Admiral," Luke said in a neutral tone.
"And I am grateful to you, young Jedi," Thrawn stated. "I hope our future meetings will take place under far more peaceful circumstances."
"Like when you're brought to Coruscant," the young Jedi frowned. Why was Lando acting so... sharply? As long as Luke had known him, Calrissian had always been distinguished by his almost aristocratic manners.
"Highly unlikely," Thrawn remarked, gesturing to stop his companion, the major, who had taken a step forward. Luke felt an icy, murderous fury emanating from the man. "I doubt we'll meet by the time I visit Coruscant. I'm sure you'll have plenty to keep you busy."
The words Luke had been about to say stuck in his throat. Was it what he thought it was?
Judging by the look on Leia's and Lando's faces, and Chewbacca's growl — it was exactly that.
Thrawn was planning to attack Coruscant. And he had just effectively told them so. In plain language…
Because there was no other way to imagine circumstances where he could end up in the capital of the New Republic, and not in chains, while being an enemy of the New Republic.
"Well," the ruler of the Dominion said, looking around. "I won't keep you any longer. I have matters to attend to…"
"Grand Admiral, may I have a word in private?" Luke blurted out.
Thrawn measured him with a questioning look. The others present also didn't seem to understand what Skywalker had in mind.
"Please, follow me," Thrawn offered, heading toward the exit. Luke had no choice but to follow the commander.
After they had moved about ten meters from the entrance to Leia's quarters, the Grand Admiral stopped abruptly and turned to face the young Jedi.
"The Corellians and other militants under Commander Bel Iblis are not currently part of the exchange pool," he said. Luke barely managed to keep his eyes from popping out of his head in surprise. How had he guessed what he was going to ask?
He wondered, was this sentient really not Force-sensitive?
"I wanted to inquire about just one… one sentient," he corrected himself.
"Lieutenant Irenez, I presume," Luke nodded affirmatively. In a way, he felt obligated for that woman's fate. Even though Bel Iblis was alive, Luke still didn't want to leave his acquaintance in captivity.
"And nothing can be done?" he asked hopefully.
Thrawn looked at him intently for several agonizing seconds, then pronounced:
"I believe your account of exactly what happened on Polis Massa will be sufficient payment for the girl's release."
"Well, I've already told you everything," Luke said, embarrassed. "I think you heard…"
"I'm interested in the part you chose to omit," the Grand Admiral clarified. "I suspect — to avoid worrying your sister."
"Yes," Skywalker admitted reluctantly. "You're right. Just before departure, something happened. I encountered a man sensitive to the Force… its Dark side…"
"Let's go to my office," Thrawn suggested. "The corridor is hardly the best place to discuss such things."
The young Jedi had no choice but to agree.
* * *
As before, the medium cruiser Razashchy was patrolling the Chasin star system.
Why was this patrol needed…
No one even knew anymore. The crew simply performed their duty of ensuring the star system's security. Although everything was fine there anyway.
Smugglers had stopped appearing entirely.
Freighter traffic was established, regulated, and unshakeable — that's what Imperial order meant.
Effectively, in Commander Dobramu's opinion, he was simply wasting time here and now. Both his own and his crew's. While his ship could be doing something far more useful.
"Captain," his first officer addressed him. Like every other crew member, he was loyal to the New Order, to orders, and dissatisfied with Grand Admiral Thrawn's actions. "A freighter has entered the system. Transmitting Imperial identification codes. One person on board — requesting a meeting with you."
"Begin the docking procedure," Akrey ordered. Apparently, his old acquaintance Kem Solusar had arrived. Interesting... What else did he want? — Escort the passenger to the briefing room. Make sure no one is in there by the time our guest arrives.
"As always, Commander," the first officer echoed.
By the time Akrey arrived at the designated compartment, Mr. Solusar was already waiting for him, sitting on one of the chairs. He looked like he'd recently been in a scuffle. A very, very serious one.
Scrapes were visible on his face, and from his manner of holding himself, it was clear the man had at least taken a good hit against something. And there were clear burn marks on his face, burns…
"That wasn't fire," Dobramu thought. He guessed Solusar had been hit by a laser cannon shot.
"Commander," Solusar said in a somewhat absent tone, greeting the young Imperial.
"Sir…"
"No names," the interlocutor said sharply. "As I can see, you're still in this backwater?"
"That's correct," Akrey confirmed. "Doing what you ordered me to…"
"We are receiving your reports on the number of recruited Chasinians and the movement of forces through the system," Solusar confirmed. "I've been tasked with informing you that the Emperor himself is pleased with what you are doing and how you are doing it."
Well, of course he was pleased.
Despite his youth, Akrey perfectly understood what the Imperials were looking for: data on how large Grand Admiral Thrawn's army was. The servants of Palpatine likely had other spies in other systems, because you couldn't get far on just Chasin. If the Emperor was gathering information on the forces at the ruler of the Dominion, Thrawn's, disposal, he surely had supporters like Akrey on Makem Te, Columus, Kelada, and other systems where the Grand Admiral was recruiting. So, right now, Akrey was nothing more than a part of one huge system… Just like in the best years of the Galactic Empire…
"I am honored by such high praise," Akrey admitted. "Is there anything else I can do for the Emperor?"
"Yes," Solusar replied. "That's why I'm here."
The man pulled an information chip from the folds of his clothing and handed it to the commander of the Razashchy.
"Our spies have discovered that a large convoy with bacta is departing from Thyferra," he said. "Over two dozen large-tonnage freighters. At the point indicated on the chip, they will be without their escort — my ships will handle the escort. Your task is to capture those ships."
"And deliver them to the Emperor?" Dobramu clarified, imagining the glory and honor he would surround himself with when he did this…
"No," Solusar stated. "You will lead this convoy into the Dominion, as your own prize. This will raise your standing in Thrawn's eyes."
"Yes, I suppose so," Akrey said, confused. Why did he need to curry favor with Thrawn if he served the Emperor? "But… Why? The Emperor will soon emerge from the shadows and sweep away all his enemies…"
"Do as you are ordered," Solusar said firmly. "By the time Palpatine begins the 'Shadow Hand' campaign, you must already be privy to the Dominion's internal affairs and know its defense systems. A convoy of bacta sufficient to heal an entire army will be your path to the Emperor's further plans."
Akrey's eyes widened.
"I understand," he nodded. "I'll do it."
"Excellent," Solusar smiled. "The Emperor is counting on you. When you make the Dominion vulnerable, a worthy reward awaits you."
"Thank you," Akrey said, again confused. "But my reward is serving the Emperor…"
"As the commander of a Vengeance-class Star Super Destroyer, you will serve him far better," with these words, the Emperor's envoy stood up and walked past the stunned commander of the medium cruiser. "Do this, and the Dominion created by Thrawn will be yours as well."
* * *
"Your current abode is noticeably different from what it was before," I said, crossing the threshold of the Iceheart's quarters. Before the clone had moved in here, the place was more like the lavish rooms in aristocratic houses and palaces, familiar to me from tours of the Winter Palace back home, or from visiting Baron D'Asta's residence in this reality.
Now, all the luxurious furniture was neatly stacked in one of the bedrooms, and the freed-up space in the living room was occupied by numerous computers arranged in the corners. Judging by the fact that a small cot, neatly made, by the way, stood in the far part of the largest room of the dwelling allocated to her, the Isard duplicate preferred to sleep without straying far from her workplace. I wondered, if she had access to the HoloNet, did she behave the same way?
My gaze swept over the shelves filled with collections of information chips, systematized in strict order for easy retrieval. Naturally, she had no direct access to her agents — nor the ability to contact anyone. Any electronics placed at her disposal lacked network cards and ports for connecting to data cables. Which were also cut — but, thanks to the efforts of little Ghent, "dummies" were created — if Ysanne even tried to plug a connector into several "unnoticed" data cables for a wired connection to the HoloNet, security would know.
Every step she took was under constant surveillance — with someone like her, you had to stay on your toes.
"Thank you, Grand Admiral," pulling away from contemplating the monitors on her desk, the Isard duplicate looked me straight in the eye. I admit, if at first I did this with hidden anxiety, now, after all those incessant and bizarre encounters with members of the fairer sex, it didn't even occur to me to react to her in any way. No fear, no suspicion — just calm. Only calm. "I also like it when natural light filters through the armored transparisteel windows with one-way polarization."
Yes, another method of isolating her, besides open and hidden surveillance cameras, sensors placed throughout the quarters, round-the-clock guards, and so on — the glass in the frames was transparent only from inside the room. So, signaling anyone from inside the building was impossible.
"Glad you like it," I said, sitting down in the chair opposite her. "If you ever feel like returning to your abode in the dungeons, let me know."
"Certainly," she matched the verbal jab. "But, I hope my work will convince you that I am better off working here, rather than fifty meters below the surface."
"In that case, I want to hear the results."
"Of course," a smile appeared on her lips. "So, first. The real Isard. I checked the list of enterprises, bases, and other infrastructure where TIE Defenders were ever stationed. Most of them were destroyed by you during the hunt for Grand Admiral Zaarin. But, there are also a number of facilities that were created as 'cells.' These are small bases with a minimum of personnel and equipment, necessary for carrying out non-recurring tasks. I conducted a parallel search through the lists of such facilities, focusing primarily on those I would have chosen myself. Out of over three thousand," wow, a significant number, "objects, I narrowed it down to two hundred."
"Still too many."
"Further, I performed a selection and eliminated those that could be compromised soon regardless. That left only fifty objects. By the end of the week, you will have her exact location."
"Is that so?" I clarified.
"Ysanne would never choose a base as a location where she couldn't take control of everything happening there," the Isard duplicate remarked. "Consequently, I need to study a number of personal files of Imperial officers stationed at these bases, to identify whom among them Isard could easily kill or break, but without losing the loyalty of the specialists. Also, based on available data on the nature of the battle, I can say with certainty that she has elite units under her command — in other words, she not only has 'technology' at her disposal, but also 'people' who are familiar with it and know how to operate it."
"Why does she want Himron?" I inquired. "Could he still be alive?"
"I am more than certain of it," said Isard. "Since I value every piece of information, so does she. After her agents in your fleet and armed forces were discovered, localized, or eliminated, she lost the ability to control what was happening. Major Himron is a valuable source of information for her, which she will squeeze dry. And only then — kill him."
"Is the last part absolute?" I inquired.
"Yes," the Isard duplicate replied in a tone that brooked no doubt. "Himron is like… an unpleasant memory for her. By destroying him physically, she can get rid of her ghosts of the past."
"However," I noted, "she could have already broken Himron. And killed him."
For a moment, the Isard duplicate pondered, then categorically and completely negatively shook her head.
"No," she said. "Molo is a sufficiently tough operative, both physically and mentally. For these qualities, he was recommended by the Emperor for intelligence work. In such a short time, Isard couldn't have broken him — an ordinary civilian with no idea of the Imperial Intelligence's methods in general, and Isard's in particular, yes. But not an exemplary operative. I am sure he is alive at this moment, but he is not subjected to any serious pressure from her, because her priority is handling and deceiving 'Rogue Squadron.' She is probably just blowing off steam with him, nothing more."
"Granted," I agreed. "I expect accelerated work on your current line of activity. I won't leave my people to be torn apart by Isard."
"Admirable zeal," the Isard duplicate remarked. "Such concern for subordinates wasn't evident in you before."
"Sometimes even the best of us are let down by memory," I replied neutrally. What else could I say? Deny it? Agree? I didn't know how Thrawn treated subordinates in a similar situation. I only knew that he never punished sensible initiative, but couldn't stand those who tried to shift their blame onto another.
"Sometimes," the Isard duplicate agreed, nodding almost imperceptibly. "May I move on to other reports?"
"Of course," I permitted.
"I studied the materials regarding the handling of Princess Leia, which was arranged by Lieutenant Colonel Astarion," said the Iceheart's copy. "A mistake. She was given a fairly transparent hint that Counselor Fey'lya might be our agent and acted strictly in our interests. However, this thesis is not supported by any truly incriminating facts. This, accordingly, casts doubt on Astarion's statements and the Princess's own conclusions," yes, because it was actually planned to be done slightly differently. But the Bothan went where he shouldn't have, so we had to conquer the Ciutric Hegemony. "If you're interested, Grand Admiral, I would propose a plan that would help us rectify the situation. Provided, of course, that the Borsk Fey'lya and Bothan card is still viable."
"It is, very much so. Given the 'Caamas Document,' I need to restore the Bothans to power in the New Republic." But so far, I hadn't come up with anything myself in that arena.
"I'm listening," I said.
"Arrange an escape for the Bothans," she said. "I have a script for a performance suitable for such parameters. To start, if you don't mind, I will begin breaking Fey'lya and his associates, using my knowledge and data about the real Isard's operation, so that they form the opinion that they are captives of the real Isard. During interrogations, I will morally torment them, flaunting how badly they have been deceived, to play on their sense of pride. Next, we organize a plausible escape for them, after which they will return to Coruscant with information of critical importance to the New Republic. What exactly — I can't say, but given their regular military failures, I would suggest using their desire to catch and destroy you. Such critically important information will allow the New Republic government to believe the Bothans again and reinstate them into the highest circles of power…"
"And thereby undermine the senators' faith in the government's prudence," I continued.
"Precisely," the Isard duplicate agreed. "A seed of distrust, planted in fertile soil. This will shake the foundations of the New Republic, allowing us to cause even more discord among the senators and the Provisional Government…"
And it could very well lead to the New Republic collapsing completely before Palpatine and his armada even arrive. A slippery moment, but… interesting. Not everything is as rosy and unambiguous as Double Isard paints it, but there's a grain of rational truth in all of this.
I just need to figure out how to use this most effectively and guard against potential intrigues from Double Isard herself.
"Any progress with the surviving pilots from Rogue Squadron?" I asked.
The visit to Distra's asteroid had yielded very, very interesting results. Because, in addition to the production facilities for TIE fighters, interceptors, and bombers hidden inside the asteroid by the now deceased Prince-Admiral Krennel, the wreckage of the battle also yielded two living pilots from the famed Republic's Rogue Squadron — Asyr Sei'lar and Wes Janson. An intriguing pair… who, in the events I knew, also survived a similar ambush in the book Isard's Revenge. An interesting coincidence, wouldn't you say?
"I've only done preliminary work," Double Isard said. "Janson is a typical ideologically motivated Republican. Even if I had the conditioning equipment, I wouldn't guarantee I could turn him into a 'sleeper agent.' His will and determination, his belief in the rightness of what he's doing, are too strong. However," a smile played on the Iceheart's lips, "it occurs to me he could make an excellent donor for pilots to fly our X-wings, Headhunters, and other equipment."
"Is that so?" I asked. An interesting hint. What lay behind it?
"I'm certain that, besides the cloning cylinders, you also have a memory uploading device," Double Isard continued, her eyes fixed on me. "Specialists could work with Janson's memory engram so that he believes he's a seasoned pilot serving the Dominion. That would exponentially increase the number of pilots at your disposal. Considering his exceptional piloting skills and his absolutely perfect marksmanship, this man could become an excellent donor for pilots familiar with those ship types. And given that he's officially listed as killed in action, the source of genetic material could be virtually endless."
Again — there's a rational grain in her words.
And also that Wes Janson's clone could be used for more than just that.
Alright, I'll file that thought away.
"The Bothan, Sei'lar," I said, shifting the conversation. "What's your assessment on her?"
"Quite, quite fascinating," a mischievous glint appeared in Double Isard's eyes. "I'd even call her a treasure trove for undermining the foundations of Bothan society. This lady was for a long time the lover of another Rogue Squadron pilot, Gavin Darklighter. But despite being a Bothan, she has a very curious perspective on her own kind and the policies they pursue. To put it mildly, she doesn't support them. Furthermore, as I've managed to ascertain, she and Darklighter intended to adopt a child together, and their relationship is a topic of discussion and condemnation in Bothan society. From indirect cues during the interrogation, I understood that the Bothan is actually relieved to be considered dead. Subconsciously, she thinks her relationship with Darklighter is a dead end."
"Which is a biologically logical conclusion," I stated. "Bothans and humans cannot have common offspring."
"That's precisely why adoption was the issue," Double Isad explained. "Moreover, Sei'lar had a very unpleasant conversation with Fey'lya about it. He urged her to leave Darklighter, threatening to obstruct him. In his opinion, the girl should return to Bothawui to become a national hero."
"In other words, a typically Bothan approach," I summarized. "Nurture a hero within the unit, then bring her home and turn her into political capital. After all, the Bothan family that patronizes her will eventually have her favor and can use her name as leverage in negotiations."
"And they say you don't understand politics, Grand Admiral," Double Isard said with a smirk. I left the remark uncommented. Because any response would sound like a justification. And Grand Admirals do not justify themselves to those of lower rank. Thank you, Imperial snobbery. "But yes, that's correct."
"How does this help us?" I asked.
"It's just a hypothesis for now, but I think she could be recruited as an influence agent within Bothan society," the Iceheart said.
"I have serious doubts that any Rogue Squadron pilot would agree to listen to your arguments without thinking they're being manipulated," I said.
"True," Double Isard smiled. "That's precisely why I'm only observing her interrogations, evaluating the holorecordings and her behavior, but not making direct contact. Seeing me, the Bothan would surely shut down and refuse to cooperate. A different matter is you. Your authority could influence her from a certain perspective. And considering your experience in crushing her enemy, it would be a rather interesting concept…"
Again — I'll file that thought away.
"Continue the observation and analysis," I said.
"Of course, Grand Admiral," the clone smiled. "Might I point out something else to you?"
"You may present the information," I corrected.
"In that case," she slid an information chip towards me. "This is a copy of a message from the scout Rederick, who was sent to Kuat for gravity mines…"
"I am perfectly aware of the nature of his mission," I said.
"Of course," Clone Isard nodded. "What's notable is something else. From non-verbal cues, I understood that his story about capturing a Raider-class corvette isn't entirely true."
Interesting.
"The thing is, his words about a group of Fleet Special Forces wanting to meet with you in person raise certain suspicions," Isard continued. "I believe it's an ambush."
You don't say, as if I hadn't figured that out.
"Rederick is being used to lure you out," Double Isard said. "I'm certain that Captain Makeno may not know the true intentions of his employer, but he must definitely understand that no high-ranking officer would meet with someone of lower rank. Therefore, he is acting on orders from his commander or employer. I suspect the main goal of the meeting is to confirm that you'll be at a specific place and time with a specific number of escort ships."
"A classic ambush," I stated. "You didn't give me a copy just to recite what was obvious without your input. I'm interested in your assessment of who ordered it."
"It's simple," Double Isard spread her hands. "Ennix Devian. You deprived him of ships and resources at the secret storage base. He intends to kill you, using his standard 'live bait' tactic, but on the scale of a space battle. I'm not sure if he's acting on his own initiative — I have too little data for that. But the likelihood of this prospect is more than high."
"That's precisely why I agreed to the meeting," the Iceheart shot me an interested look. "However, this is no longer relevant to our discussion. The droids that were guarding your quarters. Have you traced their origin?"
"Of course," Double Isard said with slight languor. "Droidekas of the model used by the Zann Consortium. And the components used also belong to them. Well-known examples of technology. Obviously, after the organization's destruction, someone managed to acquire the factories… And the B-2 droid… That's a completely new assembly, meaning someone has an assembly line producing these machines. Presumably, this could be the Corporate Sector, where a considerable number of Imperial warlords found refuge. And the 'Corporates' themselves have the capability to produce such equipment. A more detailed analysis of the components is needed…"
"So, you haven't done it yet?" I asked. Which was somewhat surprising, knowing the clone's work ethic.
"Exactly," she smiled, sliding another information chip over. "Fresh data from my informants in the New Republic's rear. Very intriguing information regarding what will happen to the prisoners after their return…"
Using the datapad to read the message, I chuckled inwardly, but showed nothing on my face.
Well, I'll file that thought away too.
"Everything is proceeding strictly according to plan," I assured her. "The New Republic intends to screen the mass of prisoners in filtration camps to uncover our deep-cover agents."
"And also to get information from them about the forces you currently command," Double Isard said. "This threatens the entire campaign — if the enemy learns the exact number of forces you have…"
"That's the calculation," I stated, returning the equipment. "The New Republic will have to work hard to achieve their goal. And even then, the result will be minimal."
It's not for nothing that they're getting prisoners of war.
Over fifty thousand sentients who have been languishing in my captivity for a very, very long time, with no idea whatsoever of what I possess.
After all, the last time they set foot on a New Republic warship was exclusively in the Dufilvian sector.