Nine years, eight months, and twenty days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, eight months, and twenty days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and five days since the Arrival.)
Major General Veers waited until his friend and student, Major General Freja Covell, had finished speaking. Only then did he reach for the drinks table to grab a glass of whiskey.
News like that required a drink. A sober mind refused to accept such information.
However, the dimensions of his repulsorlift wheelchair prevented him from reaching it. He was about to give up on the idea of getting blind drunk when his glass was caught by the hand of the man in a general's uniform sitting to his right. Without a word, one of the two guests had helped him.
Veers gave him a searching look, but there wasn't a trace of condescension, empathy, or pity on the "guest's" face. This convinced the valiant general that the help was offered not out of any leniency or mockery.
He simply helped because it was the right thing to do.
"Thank you," he said dryly, taking a gulp that left only melted ice cubes in the glass.
"No problem, General," the other replied in the same dry tone, with the same intonations… himself. Or was he no longer himself? "I had the same reaction the first time I found out."
"Only we found out under different circumstances," the second "guest" said with a chuckle in his voice. He was the spitting image of the first. In fact — his exact copy.
A copy of Veers himself.
"So, cloning," the disabled man sighed, indicating his empty glass to Freja.
"Exactly," confirmed the former mentor, refilling the glass. Again, practically to the brim. "Fourteen days between seeding the bio-material and getting an exact copy of the donor. No differences, full emotional stability, competence…"
"I thought it took ten years for that," Veers admitted, looking askance at his two copies sitting to his right. And facing Covell himself. Who was in charge of all this — both on the ship and in the project as a whole.
"If you use Kaminoan technology — yes," Freja confirmed. "We're using the Spaarti program."
"Damn," Veers thought. He had heard about that program.
"And how long before they go insane?" he nodded towards his two clones.
"That actually sounded offensive," stated the "second" of the clone duo. The "first" remained silent. It seemed he was interested in the question too.
"Jurgen," Covell said pacifically. "Don't make it worse. You're still considered defective."
"So what?" inquired the "Second." "Is that my problem?"
"If soldiers die because of you — yes," replied the "First."
"Stop it," Covell ordered. Looking at the original Veers, he explained:
"Grand Admiral Thrawn uses a special technology that negates the effects of clone madness. These clones are exactly the same as you, Maximilian."
"Which of the three 'Maximilians'?" Jurgen inquired.
Veers smirked wryly, looking at his copies.
"Interesting," he said. "Why, knowing the nature of your origin, did you keep my name?"
"Technically, it's our name too," objected the "First." "When we were informed of the nature of our origin, Jurgen and I decided to keep the same first name but take different last names. We kept the name out of respect for you, General Veers."
"Flattered," the latter replied dryly. He decided not to mention that he was also furious. "So, you," he pointed at the "Second," "are Maximilian Jurgen?"
"Exactly," his copy replied with a yawn.
"And you?" he looked at the "First."
"Major General Maximilian Kaine," the other introduced himself.
"Accepted," and there was no point in arguing about it. None whatsoever. Thrawn wants — Thrawn does. But now it was clear what he meant when he said he could get Veers back on his feet. "Freja, a question. You said fourteen days. I only arrived here seven days ago. How do you explain that?"
"A sample of your blood was taken by the medics during the examination when you arrived in the Dominion," Covell admitted reluctantly. "I was busy evacuating the source material and moving the cloning cylinders onto the ships at that moment. The capsule with Jurgen, for some reason, turned out to be… inadequately shielded, but that was discovered only after it was moved onto the ship. So, he has some minor brain changes, non-critical, but his personality differs from both you and Kaine. And the personality imprint… I ordered it taken during your medical examination here on the ship. We just managed to load it into the first two clones — Kaine and Jurgen. Even though the latter differs from the two of you."
"You talk as if that's a bad thing," Jurgen said irritably.
"Stating a fact," Covell retorted. "You really are defective."
"Why wasn't he disposed of then?" Veers inquired.
"It doesn't affect his combat effectiveness," Freja replied. "And personality… That's not the main factor in the clone creation process."
"Am I correct in understanding," Kaine said, "that there are several ships carrying cloning cylinders?"
"Yes," Freja replied. "The exact number is classified, as is the number of my own copies. But I have certain suspicions. Naturally, I'm not going to tell you — it's a secret."
"No one is insisting," Veers remarked. "So, if I understand correctly — on this ship you are cloning crews for armored vehicles?"
"Correct," Covell confirmed. "Thrawn didn't use ground forces much before, but he realized he intends to fight on planets soon. For that purpose, clones of outstanding specialists are being created."
"Alright," Kaine said. "What are we going to fight in?"
"I've inspected the Dominion army's reserves," Veers admitted. "Most of the equipment is obsolete. From the time of the Clone Wars."
"That doesn't negate its effectiveness," Kaine objected.
"No one is arguing with that," Veers stated. "However, it would be most effective to have Imperial-pattern armored vehicles in service."
"That's not for us to decide," Kaine remarked just as calmly. "The quantitative deficit in AT-ATs and AT-STs can be compensated by AT-RTs, which will serve as forward scouts and mobile forces."
"We are not discussing tactical and strategic issues right now," Covell reminded them. He took a sip from his glass and added, "I have an order — to produce your clones," he was looking directly at Veers. "Specifically on this ship, we will be working on rebuilding the Blizzard Force. In whatever quantity Thrawn requires."
"I hope you're not going to clone the existing Fett duplicates," Veers hypothesized. "Given the accelerated aging, they must be around sixty in biological equivalent by now."
"As far as I know, Dominion Intelligence operatives are busy searching for a suitable donor," Covell remarked. "If successful, we will be rebuilding the army using Jango Fett's template. Because we have major problems with stormtrooper equipment. Truth be told, the reserves of Imperial-pattern armor are practically exhausted right now. New batches of clone stormtroopers will be equipped with Phase II armor. It may be morally obsolete, but it's not too different from what we're used to. As I understand it, orders to clone naval and army specialists are prioritized precisely because we have Imperial-pattern gear for them. But Phase II, it…"
"It's standard for Fett clones," General Kaine finished Covell's thought. "And there aren't many options to solve this problem — either attack and capture a factory producing it, move it to the Dominion, or switch to Phase II. But it will only fit a very small number of the stormtroopers we currently have."
"That's why they're looking for the mercenary named Boba Fett," Covell explained. "He is supposedly an exact Kaminoan copy of Jango Fett, who was in turn the donor for the Old Republic's clone army."
"Yes, I've heard that tale too," Veers said. "Back on the Executor."
"Be that as it may, Thrawn is currently prioritizing naval and army specialists," Covell repeated. "The number of ground troops on fleet vessels is growing — each Star Destroyer needs a legion of stormtroopers with attached support. Thrawn has ordered that you," he looked at Veers again, "or my clones lead them, as the most effective in terms of ground combat tactics and strategy."
"Are you trying to talk me into being cloned further?" Veers chuckled.
"Actually, yes," Covell admitted.
"They took half a liter of blood from me during the medical exam on Ciutric IV," Veers recalled. "I think that volume can make quite a few clones. And you have my memory imprint too."
"I would prefer not to do it without your consent," Covell admitted. "The Supreme Commander's orders must be carried out, of course, but…"
Veers understood what Freja couldn't say.
Going behind the back of a friend and mentor was repugnant to him.
"Take as many as you need," the disabled man said with a sigh, downing a new glass in one gulp. "It's just a shame you can't make a clone of me and transfer my consciousness into it. That way I'd have a chance to get back to the front lines. Honestly, that's what I thought of first…"
"Unfortunately, right now we're working with what we have and based on the program's data," Covell said. "We can only take imprints and place them exactly into the clones' minds. Full consciousness transfer is not an option."
"Also," Jurgen joined the conversation, "you need to understand that we, the clones, have a shorter lifespan than you, General. Accelerated growth and all that…"
"Are you saying you're not my exact copies in terms of biological life?" Veers frowned.
"We have the same body condition, health, and age that you would have, General, were it not for the injury on Hoth," Kaine explained. "But we live shorter. How many years will pass before we age and die of natural causes — no one can say for sure."
"Because we'll probably all die on the battlefield," Jurgen summarized.
"Not necessarily," Covell shook his head. "The Dominion is looking for cloning specialists to help figure out what we can do to make clones live longer. Despite the pool of volunteers and recruits, it will be months before they even begin to understand military art. And clones, due to their accelerated metabolism and the cloning procedure itself, will die one way or another — if not in battle, then from natural causes. If by that time we don't have enough recruits to replace the clones — the duplication laboratories will be under constant strain replacing clone losses. So, even if that opportunity existed, transplanting into a cloned body…"
"Whether I do it or not is my decision alone," Veers said sharply. Right, easy for them to talk — they hadn't spent half their life in a wheelchair. "I suggest we stop the exchange of opinions and get back to our duties. Freja, I assume the cloning chambers are ready for me?"
"That's right," Covell agreed.
"In that case, it's time to start producing my copies," Veers stated decisively. "The sooner I'm done here, the sooner I return to the Dominion to train the recruits. One of you two," he looked at Kaine and Jurgen, "ready to return with me to Ciutric IV?"
"With all due respect, General, we already have our orders," Kaine stated. "From what it looks like, the Grand Admiral is planning something very, very offensive, so Jurgen and I would be shipping out from the ship to the Dominion."
"We're moving through hyperspace and no stops are planned until the final destination," Covell stated. "In five days, the cloning process for the twelfth batch of clones will be completed, and you will depart with them for Ciutric IV. Not earlier."
"Fine," Kaine shrugged indifferently. Shifting his gaze to Veers, he inquired:
"General, when you're done with all the procedures, would you join us in the training bay for tactical drills? The ground combat tactical simulator on board this ship is excellent. We have the details of our future assignments and the intelligence data. I'd like to get an assessment of my actions from the original and test my skills and abilities against an equal opponent."
"Now that was offensive," Jurgen stated.
"At your service, General Kaine," Veers agreed. "On one condition — we will also use models of Grand Army of the Republic equipment."
"For practicing coordination with Imperial-pattern armor?" Kaine clarified.
"Exactly," Veers confirmed with a smirk. "Reading my mind, General."
"We just think alike," his "first" clone replied with the same grin.
"I'll join you a little later," Kovel announced unexpectedly. "I've wanted to test myself in combat against a mentor for a long time."
"Be glad you didn't have to, General," Maximilian Kaine remarked. "General Veers taught you practically everything you know."
"But not everything he knows himself," Jurgen chimed in.
Freja laughed.
"This will be an interesting experience," he said. "Because I haven't been sitting around idle since Hoth, either."
"It's good that we're fighting on the same side," Veers observed. "Otherwise, in reality, such a battle could turn into a bloodbath with no winners."
"In that case, our enemies should order plenty of coffins in advance and dig mass graves a little deeper," Kaine promised.
* * *
When the hologram of the Dominion's ruler came into focus, Asajj Ventress nearly cursed in Huttese.
"This is your acquisition, Commodore Shohashi?" Grand Admiral Thrawn's voice carried authority, a lack of emotion, and his gaze...
Despite having only two colors — white and blue — the Dathomirian witch understood perfectly that she wasn't facing a human. Very similar, but...
"Correct, sir," the commander of the "Red Star" squadron confirmed. "Asajj Ventress. According to archival records — a handmaiden and assassin serving Count Dooku during the Clone Wars. She was placed on the wanted list and was a target for the Inquisitorius."
"Judging by the fact that you're alive, Lady Ventress, the Inquisitors failed in their task," despite the hologram's eyes being a shade of blue, Ventress knew full well that in reality they were red. And burning with fire.
"Things are quite tangled in this galaxy," she said. "For instance, Chiss at the head of an Imperial armada," judging by the surprise that flickered across Ahsoka's and Shohashi's faces, they clearly hadn't heard of this species. "A great rarity in any era."
Interesting. And how could something like this have happened in the human-centric Galactic Empire? Yes, the Chiss are a near-human species — at least that's what she read when she came across data in the Confederacy's files about General Sev'rance Tann. The latter — a Force-sensitive Chiss woman who fought for the Confederacy of Independent Systems. She fought gloriously, but not for long — some obscure Jedi finished her off.
She wondered, was this Thrawn also Force-sensitive? Tano hadn't been able to verify that.
"As are Dathomirian witches who trained in the Jedi ways and ended up as assassins serving Darth Tyranus, who was himself a puppet of Darth Sidious, who later became Emperor," the Chiss remarked.
"Alright, red-eyes," Ventress thought. "You know a few things about me too. Some personal things few people know. Let's call it 'one: one'."
"We haven't been introduced," the hologram continued. "I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, Supreme Commander and ruler of the Dominion."
"You know who I am," the former killer said. "Asajj Ventress."
"And that's it?" The Chiss's brow arched upward.
"And that's it," Ventress's lips twisted into a caustic smirk. "But that little pip-squeak said you could offer more to valuable assets like me. I'd like to hear some options for future employment."
Thrawn's lips twitched into a brief smile.
"Lady Tano has been rather careless with her words lately," the Togruta narrowed her eyes. Apparently, the guards in whose presence she'd said too much had heard her. And the Grand Admiral knew perfectly well what that little pest had in store for him. "I am indeed interested in having Force-sensitive beings in my service, especially those who might possess extremely interesting talents. However, assassins who swing lightsabers are not highly valued."
"I've killed more than a few Jedi," Ventress noted. "In the CIS, I commanded many military operations — both on planetary and moon surfaces, and in space."
"To the best of my knowledge, most of them ended poorly," Thrawn stated. "There was always someone who thwarted your plans. That indicates insufficient knowledge in the field of battle command. To put it bluntly — you're incompetent in matters of space combat. Ground operations — perhaps, but at the moment, that aspect interests me little. Do you have any other talents?"
Ventress noticed a restrained smile appear on Tano's face. It vanished instantly the moment Shohashi cast her a single glance. Well, well... Ventress had never before thought that the reputation of the "Butcher of Atoa" was truly no exaggeration. This man literally radiated calm. A calm that bordered on lethal danger and ruthlessness. A sort of General Grievous, minus the cybernetics, the manic schizophrenia, and overall a "peaceful" Alderaanian.
An interesting specimen of a human, she had to admit. Even worthy of respect. And the way he'd purged the planet of pirates... Mountains of corpses, hundreds of prisoners, minimal losses of his own... Yes, if Dooku had had a commander like that, the Republic would have been bathing in blood often and copiously.
"I'd venture to note that the only ones who ever managed to defeat me were Skywalker and Kenobi, who've been dead for a long time," she said with distaste. "Of that trio, only one little misunderstanding remains..."
"What a woman," Tano sighed. "The slightest thing, and she starts name-calling."
"Be quiet," Thrawn ordered, looking at the Togruta. "Yes, Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are dead. But there are still more than enough Jedi in the galaxy even at the current moment. As I've been informed, Lady Tano defeated you in combat with ease. And she isn't even considered a strong Jedi, apparently," the Togruta was clearly offended. "I'll repeat my question — why would I want someone like you in my service, who suffered defeats against even minor Jedi?"
It seemed Thrawn wasn't gifted. Otherwise, he wouldn't belittle Tano so much. The latter, though a headache like no other, was still a very, very capable and tough combat Jedi. Well, that was one small grain of information about the Grand Admiral.
"Tano just got lucky," Ventress declared. "I hadn't practiced lightsaber combat for a long time. But once I regain my form..."
"I don't have several years, or even decades, for you to go from being a simple assassin to reaching at least Lady Tano's level," ah... So that last "belittlement of the Togruta" was nothing more than a provocation. He knew perfectly well... What conclusion could be drawn from this?
"Force-sensitive beings are a great rarity," Ventress stated. At this point, Tano's request for her to help possibly kill Thrawn had completely flown out of her head. The brat had made her bed — let her lie in it. Asajj understood perfectly well that the Grand Admiral wasn't in any hurry to take incompetents under his wing. Or, at least, he was making that appearance. If he were only trying to attract masters and the best of the best in Jedi arts, he'd hardly keep someone like Tano. She was strong in combat, but not in the Force. Which meant... "I could keep pretending that you're not interested in me, but I won't waste your time or mine. Tano told me during our fight that you're some kind of new variable in the Force, one that destroys the known future. None of that Jedi nonsense ever interested me, nor does it now. But she said she'd kill you if you acted against the galaxy's interests..."
"And what did I expect from Dooku's underling?" Ahsoka said into the void.
."..I feel no love for either the New Republic or the Empire," Ventress continued. "I'd actually prefer to stay out of all your squabbles entirely, and I only came to this pirate base to retrieve my blades, which were stolen from me years ago. But I figure, since you found a place for a Jedi who might stick a lightsaber in your back, you'll find one for a Dathomirian witch too. As a counterbalance to this Togruta. If she moves against you — I'll finish her. Since there's no Skywalker or Kenobi to save her this time, I'll manage."
Thrawn studied her in silence for several seconds. Then, looking off to the side — judging by the absence of sound, he gave someone orders — he looked back at Ventress:
"You wanted to leave Dominion territory," he reminded her. "Now you're offering me your service. Haven't you, by any chance, sustained any head injuries that would account for such a rapid change in motivation?"
It seemed Tano snorted with pleasure at Ventress's humiliation. But she fell silent almost immediately when Shohashi gifted her with another "calming" look.
"You seem to have big plans, Grand Admiral," Asajj said. "And I think that sooner or later, no matter where I hide, the Force will bring me back into contact with the Dominion again. That's just its nasty nature. So I'd prefer to hire myself out — with a substantial salary and privileges, of course — and become your avenging sword against your enemies. And," she smiled, looking at the Togruta, "naturally, as proof of my loyalty, I could decapitate this little bi..."
"Enough," Thrawn said. His eyes shifted focus. "Commodore Shohashi."
"Yes, Grand Admiral," the "Butcher of Atoa" responded.
"Lady Ventress is being transferred to your command," Thrawn ordered. "Provide her with appropriate training in ground operations, and also verify her competence through participation in missions to purge planets of pirates and criminals. If she proves herself worthy — the probationary period will end. If she causes more harm, losses, and failures — eliminate her. Given the ability of Force-sensitive beings to survive even severe injuries — I recommend dropping her body into the nearest star. Naturally, in the event that she lets you down."
Wonderful... She was back to being subordinate to the ruler's trusted man again... It brought back certain memories.
"The order is understood, Grand Admiral," Shohashi clipped.
"Lady Tano," Thrawn's gaze shifted toward the now-quiet Togruta. "Your services on the ships of the 'Red Star' squadron are no longer required. Pack your belongings; I'm expecting you aboard the 'Chimaera'. You'll receive the coordinates and time for the meeting point shortly. The chief shipwright, Zion, will be traveling with you. Ensure his safety during the journey. I'll have new personal assignments for both him and you. Provided, of course, that I'm satisfied with the answers to certain questions."
"Finally," Ventress thought with relief. "At least someone has the sense to execute this little brat with the brain of a child. Because few people will be satisfied with the answers to questions about why a Jedi planned to assassinate the Supreme Commander."
Those who weren't Force-sensitive couldn't understand such things. To them, all these visions, premonitions, and other Force tricks were nothing but empty words.
"I understand," Tano said flatly. "I'll leave as soon as I receive the data."
"That's all," Thrawn clipped.
When his hologram faded, the comlink on the Togruta's wrist lit up with the indicator of a received message. Apparently, she'd gotten the coordinates. Where Imperial interrogators would surely be waiting for her...
Ventress almost regretted not being able to witness the torture of her old "friend."
"It looks like I need to pack," Ahsoka mumbled, leaving the comms compartment. Now only Asajj and the commander of the star dreadnought remained.
He almost immediately pulled up a three-dimensional map of the Nidjun sector on the holoprojector, studying it as if looking for something he hadn't seen before.
"You'll move into the quarters assigned to Lady Tano as soon as she vacates them," Commodore Shohashi ordered, addressing Asajj without even deigning to turn his head. "In an hour, literature for the small ground force unit commander training course will be delivered to you. You have twenty-four hours to study it, after which I and the commander of the 'Crimson Dawn's' ground contingent will examine you."
"Don't you worry, Commodore," men were easy to deal with. The main thing was to pretend to obey while simultaneously flirting, to pique their interest. Shohashi wouldn't even notice as he became a toy in her hands. "I'll do everything you order," she reached out her hand to place it over the officer's.
But she froze, feeling the prick of a vibroblade at the base of her neck.
"If you do anything I haven't ordered you to do," Shohashi said slowly, still studying the hologram of the Nidjun sector, "your life will be ended either by the guards or by my commando droids. Or the droidekas aboard the 'Crimson Dawn' might be honored with the task as well."
"Well, aren't you a tough one," Ventress snorted, pulling her hand back. The tip of the vibroblade (currently inactive) hadn't moved. "Sometimes it's useful to relax during a mission. Lets you feel alive again."
"To feel alive for as long as possible, kindly perform your duties, Lady Ventress," Shohashi stepped back from the holoprojector. His right hand dipped into a pocket on the side of his tunic, pulling out an ancient chronometer. The man's gaze dropped to the watch... And Ventress noticed that on the inside of the lid was a picture of a rather lovely woman. From the style of her dress — an aristocrat. "Otherwise, your stay aboard my ship will be limited to the time it takes the guards to dispose of your corpse. Did I explain that clearly enough?"
"Couldn't be clearer," the Dathomirian witch said. Well, the simple method of escaping the humiliating position of yet another underling hadn't worked. No matter, this could be stretched out over some time. "I'll await your orders and instructions, Commodore."
"Now leave this restricted compartment," he ordered. "Stay in your cabin until I summon you. You are forbidden to leave it except to carry out an assigned task."
Of course... Could it have been any different?
* * *
Torin bit into a nutrient bar, washing down the tasteless mass with a vitamin-enriched drink.
The Twi'lek girl sitting across from him at the tiny table tried not to meet his eyes, silently eating her freeze-dried rations.
"How much longer?" Inek asked, trying to keep irritation out of his voice.
"What?" The girl looked at him from under her brow.
"I'm asking how much longer you're going to pretend there's something on this junk heap?" the scout elaborated.
"I'm telling you, my brother's base is here!" the girl declared. "Reus..."
Torin yawned, not even bothering to cover his mouth with his hand. He was a smuggler, after all; where would he get manners?
"Listen, I don't really care, one way or the other," he said, "but we've been here almost a month. Flying from one trash pile to another. Digging through rusty scrap metal. You pretend my brother's base is somewhere around here, and I pretend I believe you."
"It's definitely somewhere around here," the girl tried to convince someone, even if only herself. "We just need to search more carefully..."
Torin sighed resignedly.
"You said you knew where it was," he reminded her.
"I thought I knew," the girl said. "But it's been a long time since then, and... the landscape has changed."
"Right," Torin snorted. "The last Rodian we ran into here said a Star Destroyer crashed on the planet about ten years ago. They say that kind of thing doesn't go unnoticed..."
"I'm not a Jedi to find some grimy hole in the middle of a garbage dump!" the girl cried out, offended. "We just need to keep searching here a bit longer. And preferably — without running into Rodians..."
They'd been here for almost a month. Constantly jumping from place to place, running into gangs of Rodian scavengers. Most of the time it was enough to drive them off with rapid-fire cannons before landing, but... it didn't last long. An hour or two to survey the area and then flee somewhere else to lie low before continuing the search...
Sometimes they had to engage in firefights on the surface to drive off the annoying and persistent scavengers. One of the wounded from the last skirmish had told them a story about an Imperial Star Destroyer that had crashed on the planet years ago.
It might have sounded like a fairy tale, but the scanning equipment indicated that about three hundred kilometers north of their current position, there was a very characteristic ship hull. According to data from scout droids he'd secretly sent out without Shira's knowledge, the ship was in relatively good condition — at least some of its weapons and surveillance systems were clearly functioning. That suggested certain thoughts...
Exactly as did the girl's suspicious behavior.
Honestly, he was starting to get tired of all this. It seemed that the trail, which had been quite obvious and unambiguous, had led him into a dead end.
Either the girl was leading him by the nose, or she'd chosen this planet not to look for someone.
He needed to clarify things. He was a free captain, wasn't he? And what normal hauler would spend almost a month stuck in a junkyard at the request of a barely-acquainted young girl, even if she was somewhat comely in her own way? Only a lovesick fool or a scoundrel looking to profit.
But everything had its limits.
"Shira," he addressed the girl quietly. "There's nothing here, is there?"
"There is," she said sullenly. "We just need to..."
"Cut the crap," he tried to speak simply, which should have best matched his cover story. "If there was something here, you'd have found your brother's base by now. Or, at least, after all this hardship, tried to contact him. But you're not doing anything. Just dragging me from one dump to another. You know, I agreed to help because I thought it was a worthwhile cause. Well," he made a show of hesitating to say something. "I liked you, of course, I thought I'd help a damsel in distress..."
Shira's eyes widened, and she looked at him in a peculiar way.
."..but I didn't expect your brother's search to drag on this long," he admitted. "Maybe his base is here..."
"It definitely is," the Twi'lek said confidently.
."..or maybe it's already buried under the garbage," Torin continued. "Or maybe you just came here hoping to find your brother but realized you were wrong, and you don't want to tell me directly. Or else, which was suggested to me by your last comment — about not running into Rodians — you decided to lie low here until those guys who were bothering you on 'The Wheel' get tired and stop looking for you."
The girl looked away. It seemed he'd guessed right. But it wasn't certain.
"Either way, I'm running low on supplies," he said. "I'm a nice guy, but my kindness doesn't last forever."
"Decided to charge me for your services?" The girl casually placed her hands on the scabbard of a short dagger.
"I'm not planning to rape you, if that's what you're thinking," Inek chuckled. "No offense, but it's the standard thing — it's not you, it's me. You're an attractive lady, but you don't interest me. Even against my will."
"I'm completely confused now," the girl admitted. "So I'm attractive to you or..."
It seemed only certain parts of her brain were functioning. Or maybe her species' hearing selectively perceived information?
"Bottom line," Torin yawned again, this time demonstratively. The urge was artificial this time. But he needed to test the girl's forthrightness. "No offense, but I intend to leave here. Tell me which planet to drop you off at, and..."
"Leave me here," Shira said. Relief was evident in the girl's eyes and her entire posture. Apparently, this whole farce of searching was aimed at achieving exactly what he'd said. "Since you don't believe me, we're clearly not on the same path. I'll find it myself."
"As you wish," Torin shrugged, rising from the couch. "You can spend the night aboard my ship. Take a look in the cargo hold — there's some old weapons and some equipment there; you can take whatever you want."
"How thoughtful," the girl said with obvious sarcasm. "Thanks, but I'll pass."
"Don't be stupid," Torin warned her. "You've got no telling how long you'll be here. A flashlight or a portable heat and energy source could really improve your life. And without the ship's guns, you'll have to fight off the scavengers yourself."
After a moment's silence, the girl agreed.
"Yeah, you're right," she said quickly. "I think I'll have to stick around here after all. You don't happen to have any spare comlinks, do you?"
"Where would I get those?" Torin asked, surprised. "My crew is one person — me. And one comlink plus the ship's comm system are plenty for me..."
The girl clearly wasn't being sincere. She was already glad to be rid of her traveling companion, so she was more relaxed now. And she'd given away her intentions.
Good. Let's push her toward the right decision.
"If you still want to contact someone, ask to be picked up from the planet — the bridge is at your service," he said, heading toward his cabin. "If you decide to leave the ship at night, at least wake me up, okay? I don't think I deserve to sleep on a ship with the ramp down, surrounded by angry Rodians."
"I'll leave in the morning," she said firmly. "I'll go look in the hold for anything I can take with me."
"Deal," Torin nodded. He was about to leave but stopped. Looking at the girl, he said:
"Look, sorry it turned out this way. I'd gladly help you more, but a month without work... I need something to maintain the ship, make repairs, and I'm getting tired of rations. Honestly, I thought this would be a two-week adventure, but it's kind of dragged on..."
"I get it," the girl's voice carried impatience. It seemed she was desperate to get rid of the annoying "pilot." That meant she needed to do something specific quickly — something Torin wasn't supposed to know about.
He'd bet his life her target was near the comms panel on the bridge, but there was no one to bet with. He'd just have to wait.
And hope that the techs were very, very good at hiding their modifications.
"Sorry," honestly, he even felt a little sorry for the girl. Her situation with her brother was truly unfortunate, but the operative understood that nothing happened without a reason. "If you need me — I'll be in my cabin."
"Go on, then," she snorted. "Rest assured — you won't be needed."
All the better. That meant no one would interfere with his monitoring of the ship's system readings from the disguised consoles in his cabin.
An hour later, when Inek had begun to think nothing would happen, an encrypted signal was sent from the bridge of his freighter...
Once he understood the direction of the signal, his stomach dropped.
Three hundred kilometers north…
* * *
Setting aside the datapad with Bravo-Two's report, I looked at Coordinator Sergius sitting across from me.
Though… what kind of coordinator was he now? The man was striving to return to field agent work. Desk duty wasn't for him. So, let him do what he did best.
"A thorough report," I said. "You did excellent work."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied quietly.
So. What did we have in the end?
The Zann Consortium hadn't just survived, hadn't just slunk into the depths of galactic backwaters—it was actively exploiting the state of affairs in the galaxy to grow its resources.
They had skillfully "latched onto" the Bothan black-market scheme for supplying Imperial weaponry to finish the Lusankya, and had managed to snatch a very significant amount of Imperial weapons and equipment right from under the New Republic's nose.
Why Imperial, and not Republic, considering that, on Coruscant's orders, not only Imperial ships were being disarmed, but Mon Calamari cruisers as well? For the same reason Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel, when arming the Mon Calamari-built ships I'd given him, ordered their cannons from the Bilbringi shipyards.
Imperial weaponry and key systems far surpassed what the New Republic had in its arsenal. The turbolasers on MC80 cruisers were inferior to their Imperial counterparts not only because they were a generation older, but also in build quality. Republic cannons were less accurate, less powerful, and their targeting systems were worse.
So the Consortium was busy stealing the best.
Why did they need Imperial technology?
Simple—the Consortium was building a fleet. And it was doing so in secret from the entire galaxy, preparing to turn everything upside down. With Kamino's clone-growing resources, plus hypothetically Rothana, and quite factually Saleucami and Hypori in its possession, the Consortium could supply its armed forces with manpower, starships, and battle droids—more than enough to carve out its own piece of the galaxy.
And from the looks of it, this would happen very, very soon.
I hadn't managed to find an exact date for when Kamino fell under Consortium control.
So I had to brainstorm based on what I knew.
Right. Tyber Zann was imprisoned on Kessel. Han Solo and Chewbacca freed him from there. After that, Zann returned to his planet, from which he began rebuilding the Consortium. Almost his first major foray was a trip to the Yavin system, where he collected information capsules from the destroyed Death Star. Of course, there was a big question about how, during a surprise attack on the battle station, anything could have been jettisoned from it, but the fact remained—if I remembered correctly, there had even been survivors from the station. But whether that was accurate or not didn't really matter.
The main thing was that the Consortium began its spread across the galaxy directly after the Battle of Yavin IV.
The Imperial dating system placed this "momentous" event in year thirty-five, month three, day seven after the Great Resynchronization. Currently, it was year forty-four, month eight, day twenty after the Great Resynchronization.
In other words, if you broke your head trying to calculate the exact difference between these events, nine years, five months, and thirteen days had passed since that grand defeat of the Galactic Empire.
Let's assume Zann captured Kamino almost immediately after the Battle of Yavin IV. Yes, that most likely wasn't true, but the fact remained—without exact data, we had to start from the closest and earliest possibility. That meant, by my calculations, slightly less time had passed for Zann since capturing Kamino.
So, ten years since Zann captured Kamino probably hadn't passed. And the clones, if he started churning them out as soon as he reached the incubators, clearly weren't ready yet. Definitely not for the next few months. But then again—I remembered from the movie Attack of the Clones that the Kaminoans had pulled clones from their tubes and trained them through accelerated aging in just five years.
So delay was no longer an option. Zann might already have an army of several hundred million clone adolescents learning to kill. Well, not "adolescents"practically adult specimens. If they were made using the same templates and standards as the Grand Army of the Republic's clones, things were very, very grim—they were either programmed for absolute obedience, as stated in the Star Wars Expanded Universe books, or through inhibitor chips, as mentioned in season seven of the Clone Wars animated series. But the latter's reliability was unlikely—at least because no chips were found by General Covell when scanning Jango Fett's clones from the Blizzard Force unit. But again, that wasn't proof.
"The Vulture survived?" I clarified.
"No, sir," Sergius replied. "I got everything she could tell me. Leaving someone like her alive was too dangerous."
Logical actions.
The Vultures—the Zann Consortium's secret agents—were incredibly loyal. As far as I knew, they were even brainwashed so they could never rise against their masters. I wondered if that brainwashing was somehow linked to Kaminoan cloning and the submission techniques used on the Grand Army of the Republic's soldiers? Based on my experience in this universe, almost certainly.
So, further delay was impossible.
The Zann Consortium was just about to outfit its ships with captured technology. The clones were almost ready (and I had no hope that they hadn't been created at all). And the droid factory on Hypori was running non-stop, with shipments leaving regularly. But we still had no way to track the ships—because there was too great a risk of exposing ourselves.
Especially since that factory was vital to me—both for completing the third phase of Operation Crimson Dawn and for the further development of the Dominion and its armed forces.
So, at a time when I needed to conduct operations against the New Republic, deal with Lady Santhe, resolve the Guardian issue, the Lusankya situation, the New Republic's internal destabilization, counter Ennix Devian in the secret war, brace for regular attacks from Grand Moff Kaine, the Imperial Ruling Council, Palpatine and his Dark Side Elite, the real Iceheart, and manage the expansion and fortification of the Dominion's defenses—a pressing need arose to conduct an operation against the Zann Consortium.
Oh yes, how could I forget—there were also unclear problems in the Quelli sector with unclear shipments.
Too many problems to give each one personal attention.
Well then, let Eric Shohashi and Moff Ferrus handle the matters of eliminating piracy and expanding the Dominion.
Let Leonia Tavira and the auxiliary forces in the Karthakk system take responsibility for raiding the New Republic.
Kaine… Well, soon I was to meet him in orbit above Dantooine, exchange Grant, and collect the cruisers owed to me. Not to mention that the members of the archaeological expedition would finally return, bringing everything related to the Jedi past off the planet. Including mined crystals for lightsabers…
The Imperial Ruling Council… They clearly posed a threat—but a long-term one.
Devian, though—an immediate one.
As did the Iceheart.
As did the New Republic, which still couldn't come to terms with its defeats and was trying by any means necessary to find a way to defeat my forces. Well, it was hard to blame them for trying to fight.
"Prepare for departure to Hypori," I ordered.
"Already ready, Grand Admiral," Sergius replied.
Judging by the detailed report on the Zann Consortium's methods of operation, and the very thorough, comprehensive briefing, the former coordinator had spent quite a long time dealing with the issue of the criminal organization's very existence and functioning. It seemed personal.
I could have just asked outright, since there was no information about Sergius's past field agent activities in the data we possessed. But why show my own lack of knowledge?
"In that case, your assignment is to go to Hypori, make contact with the Noghri groups conducting reconnaissance there, then gather, compile, and provide us with detailed intelligence on the enemy's armed forces," I ordered.
"It will be done, Grand Admiral," Sergius replied curtly.
"You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir." The man rose and left my quarters, leaving me alone in the gloom of the dimmed lighting.
Things were unfolding interestingly…
The front of opposition was inevitably expanding, which ruled out my personal involvement in most operations. I'd have to delegate authority in various areas of conflict to subordinates. The right subordinates, I had to note.
The year was drawing to a close.
Palpatine would strike soon.
Judging by the fact that the Zann Consortium's clones still weren't ready and the criminals hadn't revealed themselves, in the events I knew, they either "raised their heads" during Palpatine's planned Operation Shadow Hand, or they had infighting and the threat from Tyber Zann's followers neutralized itself.
I didn't really believe the latter, but the former…
Star Wars literature from this time period, firstly, was mostly told from the New Republic's point of view—the vast majority of it. Secondly, it was primarily based on chronicling the conflict between the New Republic and the Empire. So, if Palpatine and his armies did run into the Zann Consortium during that period, it could have simply "remained off-screen." Given the enormous forces Palpatine had at his disposal and how easily he was crushed, it was most likely that he encountered some enemies who managed to wear down the army and fleet of the resurrected Empire. And the remnants of the ships were destroyed at Byss by the efforts of certain iconic individuals.
It ended up like that old joke: the fuse was "excellent," but all that came out was a "fizzle."
Did that mean I'd have to fight the Zann Consortium's fleet for the sake of Kamino and Rothana, and act as their "executioner" myself? Yes, most likely—that was the case. Because at this point, the general course of history hadn't changed, of course, but the specifics… Yes, I had influenced them very, very heavily. The fact that Palpatine had contacted me through Kaine was proof enough. And that hadn't been in the events I knew. Or maybe I just didn't know about it.
Interesting… It could even be that Thrawn had been acting directly on Palpatine's orders. And if that were true, my "getting out of control" only convinced Darth Sidious of the need to get rid of me.
And knowing that man's vengeful nature, it wouldn't be surprising if he also swept through my allies with fire—in fact, I'd already thought about this before.
For that same reason, I had sent a group to Kuat. I needed some of Kuat Drive Yards' technical achievements. Both for attack and defense. Otherwise, the end of Operation Crimson Dawn, in the best-case scenario, would result in everything I had built being destroyed by the mad clone of Emperor Palpatine and his loyal servants.
Well then… A meeting with Rederick and the naval special forces would clarify the technical data obtained on Kuat. It would also help expose the enemy trying to destroy me. Devian would crawl out of his hole…
Hm…
Actually, that could make for an interesting combination.
But in that case, I'd need to adjust the order of minor operations to obtain the necessary amount of resources. Then I could comfortably place them on the "chessboard," and subsequently use them to maximum advantage.
The real danger, however, lay in revealing my forces. Palpatine might not like what I could become the owner of. Because that would increase my strength, and from an ally, I would finally become a competitor. Because, if you roughly estimated, with all the transport, military-transport, combat, and special ships, the Dominion fleet's size was approaching the standard size of a sector fleet. And the number of Star Destroyers I already had was breaking all records, exceeding the standard count.
But… that wasn't enough for me, was it?
Since the New Republic was continuing its attempts to restore logistics and the economy, why not help them develop their own shipbuilding program?
After all, they had disarmed so many Imperial ships to turn them into transports…
As they say—come and take them.
And don't forget to leave the ships with the Republic names they were given—let them grind their teeth in helpless fury when they see those ships in a fleet operating against them.