Nine years, eight months, and twenty-five days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fourth year, eight months, and twenty-five days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and ten days since the Arrival.)
I had to admit, the admiral's lounge aboard the Reaper was impressive not only in its scale but also in the richness of its furnishings.
Expensive carpets laid across the deck, carved wooden furniture — clearly made of natural material, not imitation — valuable paintings and statuettes...
If all this wasn't brought here to mislead me, then the appraisal of these artworks indicated that Kaine was a man with a complex, repressed, content with what he had, unwilling to take risks...
Overall, this aligned with the psychological profile obtained on him in the past.
"I never cease to be amazed that you're not afraid to fly to a meeting with a super-destroyer in just one destroyer," said Grand Moff Kaine, wearily sinking into the chair opposite me. The man jerked open the collar of his tunic, tiredly looked at the metal table before him.
"Want some?" he asked, in a much more familiar tone, pointing to a sealed bottle of Corellian whiskey.
"I'll pass," I replied. Honestly, even in my previous life, I wasn't a drinker, and in this one... I don't think I should start every meeting with it. "Are we on a first-name basis now?"
Kaine froze for a moment, uncorking the bottle, as if caught with his pants down in the middle of a city square, then, after a dejected nod, continued removing the seals from the container.
You look at that strong-willed face, remember his proud bearing that I'd noticed during our first meeting... And you wonder — what could have so undermined a seemingly brave man with an inner core?
And then you look at what he's surrounded himself with — statuettes, paintings depicting heroic scenes, brave-looking figures with terror frozen on their faces — and you realize that Kaine only pretends to be a 'colorful character.' In reality, he's weak, pliable, and cowardly (like all of us). He just hid it well. But someone or something found a way to press his sore spots.
"I apologize, Grand Admiral," he said curtly. "I thought we were friends in misfortune."
"Is that so?" I raised my right eyebrow in surprise. "Could you elaborate on that point?"
"Palpatine," the Grand Moff explained. "He and his lapdog Blackhole led me around by the nose. When you squeezed the Ubiqtorate's assets on Tangrene, intending to requisition their fleet, they'd been licking my boots for a couple of years, trying to get access to my archives."
"The ones that were copied in the Imperial Palace?" I clarified.
The owner of the Reaper looked at me thoughtfully. A very, very attentive gaze.
"Let's say," he said. "They came to me with their inquisitorial brood, started working on me about how useful they were, how mutually beneficial our cooperation would be, and so on. I needed their help to hold power in the Pentastar, so I agreed. They were actually somewhat useful, but I had no idea that all their advice, intelligence reports, assurances that the New Republic was about to attack me — all of it served only to increase the armed forces and fleet. Yes, maybe the rebels did plan to go to war with me, but even with the forces I had initially, I'd have bathed their soldiers in their own blood. But I built a whole armada of heavy cruisers..."
"Which are suitable for occupying conquered territories after they've been softened up by orbital bombardment?" I clarified.
Kaine, frowning, poured a glass to the brim, then downed it in one gulp.
"Tell me honestly," he said. "Did you just figure that out from my story, or earlier?"
"About three and a half months ago," I admitted honestly. "When the Ubiqtorate refused to obey and did everything to get rid of those in their ranks who might be useful to me. Though they had the sense not to destroy the specialists, but to hand them over to my command. The rest is obvious without words."
"And you didn't say I was being played for a fool," Kaine said bitterly. Maybe I should have lifted the veil of truth for him, told him that I initially considered him an ally of Palpatine's, but that would have raised even more questions. And now a very interesting dialogue was shaping up...
"Alright," Kaine said sharply. "That's all in the past. Let's be frank." He pulled a scrambler from his tunic pocket and demonstratively activated it. "Do you intend to submit to Palpatine when he crawls out of his hole?"
"It is our duty to serve the ruler of the Empire," I declared, waiting for his reaction. I needed to understand the point of all these 'heart-to-heart talks.' What did Kaine want — a secret alliance against Palpatine, or to extract from me an admission of opposition, to use as grounds for pressure, blackmail, or even elimination? Though such baseness didn't quite align with his personality profile.
"Uh-huh," Kaine grunted. "Testing me, are you..." He poured another glass. "Well, I believe that old wrinkled bastard doesn't deserve our loyalty. The Empire wasn't built by him, but by people like you and me. We preserved its remnants, and we're not obliged to dance to his tune when he, like some Jedi, crawls out of his hole where he's been hiding for years, not giving a damn about any of us, watching as Imperials slit each other's throats, when he could have just let it be known that he, the old bastard, was alive. And there wouldn't have been such a mess. You catching my drift?"
"Fully," I said, removing my gloves one by one and setting them aside. Then I unfastened the hooks at my tunic collar, signaling that I understood the subtext of his words. "Pour me three fingers, Ardus. I think we have things to discuss."
* * *
Moff Ferrus settled into a chair at the far side of the massive table in the negotiation hall of the palace, once belonging to the Imperial governor of the planet Axxila. Now it was used by the council governing the planet. Or rather, its legal part.
The secret rulers of this world, who held most of the power and money, met in far less modest chambers.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet, gentlemen councilors," he said, looking into the faces of the men sitting opposite him. "I assume we can get straight to business?"
"It seems we have made ourselves perfectly clear," squeaked a man whom, due to his build, Felix had privately dubbed 'Fatso.' "Axxila remains a neutral planet."
"The protection and security of which depends solely on how many starships the Anti-Piracy Fleet based on the planet can provide you?" the Moff clarified.
"We have enough forces to repel any attack," the second man declared arrogantly, whom Felix had called 'Skinny.' Though, looking at it, this guy was as thin as his companion was fat. He could call them 'Fatty' and 'Beanpole,' but he didn't want to break the established labels.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Felix thought. "That's exactly why, when my cruiser entered the system, all you could put up against me was a pair of pathetic Clone Wars-era 'Marauders.'"
"I am not advocating forced assimilation," Felix said. "The Dominion respects the rights and opinions of all planets within its composition."
"What's that to us?" 'Skinny' snorted indignantly. "We feel perfectly fine in the current reality. Nobody bothers us, the planet lives under Imperial law, the citizens are happy with everything..."
"What a comedy, if I ever saw one," the Moff thought.
"I assume there's no point in pointing out that seventy-nine percent of the sentients living on Axxila are below the poverty line?" Felix asked. "Twenty percent are bureaucrats, law enforcement, and personnel on Anti-Piracy Fleet ships. And only one percent deny themselves nothing. Tell me, have I missed anything?"
"A lot," 'Skinny' whined irritably. "You don't understand a simple, fundamental truth — Axxila has long been accustomed to living in neutral status. We don't need to join state formations. Our economy is excellently developed, our industry..."
"And also spice trade, pirate nests all over the planet, gangster factions, and most of the economy is taxed by the criminal underworld," Felix mentally continued.
"The Dominion offers you reliable protection," Ferrus reminded them of one of the clauses of the draft union treaty that had been preliminarily sent to the Axxila government for agreement. "A real fleet, real soldiers, and the genius of Grand Admiral Thrawn — all of this stands guard over your borders and the peace of your citizens."
"We don't need any of that, Moff Ferrus," 'Fatso' sneered contemptuously, his enormous cheeks quivering like ocean waves. "We have everything."
"And in case you've suddenly decided you can conquer us, I advise you to consider that it is precisely through Axxila that one of the most important hyperspace routes leading to the Dominion's borders passes," there was either irony, sarcasm, or a hint of threat in 'Skinny's' voice. When a person's voice is just a squeaky apparatus, it's hard to tell what he's implying.
"The Dominion does not intend to annex Axxila by force," Felix said coldly. "As long as we exist without harming each other — your neutrality is not threatened. Thank you for your time, councilors. If you change your mind — I'm always available."
"We won't!" 'Skinny' shrieked hysterically. "Do you think we don't know what you're after, Moff? You want to seize the planet and get your hands on our sources of income? That's not going to happen! If even one Dominion ship appears in the vicinity of our star system, we'll sic every ship we can hire on you. Is that clear?"
"I hear you, Councilor," Felix said in an unwavering tone, mentally picturing his interlocutors as flayed carcasses. "Again — thank you for your time."
Leaving the hall where the final round of the meeting with the fat and skinny hysterics had taken place, Felix, accompanied by his guard, reached his transport, which was also under the vigilant protection of another squad of guards.
Only after the air-car had delivered him to the shuttle, and that to the bridge of a Neutron Star-class cruiser — which served as the flagship of his fleet defending the Morshdine sector — did the Moff allow himself to vent his emotions. But first, he changed into workout clothes and went to the compartment where he practiced his martial arts skills.
After ten minutes of furiously beating a training dummy with fists and feet, he finally managed to release the nervous tension accumulated over the weeks of negotiations and became ready to analyze the situation. Calmly and deliberately.
Yes, the negotiations had failed. That was essentially clear from the start — from the first day of negotiations, he had been given to understand that they wanted to see neither the Dominion, nor the Empire, nor the Republic, nor anyone at all.
Axxila was fundamentally a thing in itself.
Several years ago, thanks to someone among the heroes of the Rebel Alliance, the planet had come to be called 'Coruscant from Within' because here, semi-legal and outright illegal dealings turned into completely legal business. All you had to do was look at the cargo turnover data to realize that if not trillions, then hundreds of billions of credits, Peggats, and other currencies were circulating here.
Hence the local government's complete confidence that nothing would ever threaten them. The Anti-Piracy Fleet mentioned by the councilors was currently nothing more than a scarecrow, since it had reached its peak strength and power only during the time when it was commanded by young Firmus Piett, the future last commander of Darth Vader's Death Squadron.
Attempting to conquer Axxila would be a massive waste of resources. The system had about a dozen orbital defense stations — 'Fire Stars,' 'Golans,' and others. Numerous trading platforms armed with weapons that could cause significant discomfort.
On the planet, there were large numbers of aircraft, as they were used for 'hunting' by local gangs. For the most part, the pirate fleets consisted of armed freighters and 'franken-fighters' assembled from various parts of various small craft.
According to the intelligence provided to the Moff, informal agreements existed between the government and their cronies — that same one percent of the population basking in luxury and wealth — and pirate (and other criminal) organizations. The government took no measures to eradicate this blight from the planet, maintaining law and order only on the upper levels of the ecumenopolis, and in exchange, the criminals handed over ten percent of their illegal earnings from all illicit dealings.
The Streets of Axxila.
And it seemed the solution was simple — bring in the fleet, crush the planet's defenses, land stormtrooper units, and begin a systematic purge...
And that would be the ruin of the entire Dominion.
Because the entire population of the planet would rise up against such a policy. There was already a precedent in Axxila's history: when Prince-Admiral Krennel was hunting Sate Pestage, he acted from a position of strength here — and it backfired on him later. When Krennel wanted to absorb the entire Ciutric Hegemony, to which Axxila had once belonged, he practically destroyed the Anti-Piracy Fleet — the survivors now only created the appearance of vigorous activity. Because, despite the nearly equal size of Axxila's armed and law enforcement forces, they didn't even try to cleanse the planet and stations of crime, preferring to limit their actions to those who had 'broken away' from one gang or another, or violated the boundaries of 'feeding territory' criminals were forbidden from entering the Upper Level of the ecumenopolis and conducting their illegal activities there.
However, this didn't prevent the largest gangs from having, besides their usual illegal income sources in the Lower City, perfectly legal businesses in the Upper City.
But, returning to Krennel's attack on Axxila, it's worth noting that his actions achieved some success for only one simple reason.
At that time, the planet didn't yet have such defensive capabilities, so the local government turned to the criminal underworld for help. And the underworld answered the call, not wanting to lose such a well-positioned base and trading platform. Krennel slunk back to Ciutric IV empty-handed, and his fleet suffered significant damage.
Since then, crime had become an integral part of life for Axxila's population. Those who could and wanted to leave the criminal ecumenopolis had done so. The rest either eked out a miserable existence working in the lower-level factories, or joined gangs and became pirates. Or any other type of criminal this planet was so rich with.
At present, the largest pirate gang operating on the planet was 'Kavil's Corsairs' a group of former Imperial privateers that had operated for several months after the Battle of Endor in the service of Coruscant and the Ciutric Hegemony government. They were based on Axxila and maintained the largest fleet of 'franken-fighters.'
And for now, that was all the information the intelligence and 'slicers' aboard the cruiser had managed to obtain. Now, given the need to depart, either a decision had to be made on what to do next — if it could be done on the planet. Or they would have to leave the planet and report the failure to Thrawn.
No, he could continue to 'drip' on the local government's mind, somehow grinding down their 'policy of rejection' of an alliance with the Dominion. But that wouldn't lead to any positive effect. You could be the most logical person, present any arguments, but who would listen if your diplomatic opponent had chosen a policy of alienation and non-acceptance?
And Thrawn hadn't given orders to acquire the planet through direct diplomacy — only to conduct negotiations. After that conversation on Ciutric IV, he had made it clear that Felix's task was to demonstrate the Dominion's interest in Axxila. He probably expected the negotiations to end this way.
So, he had a plan. If only he knew what it was.
After changing, the Moff returned to his cabin-office. The ship's commander reported that preparations for departure were underway. That gave them half an hour to sum up the latest data the 'slicers' were preparing to obtain as they worked on hacking the government network while Felix had wasted his time negotiating with 'Skinny' and 'Fatso.'
A short beep indicated a visitor had arrived. Glancing at the chronometer, Felix smirked — punctuality was not this person's strong suit. Not at all.
"As soon as I heard you were back, I ran straight here," the young man was clearly out of breath, hugging the datapad to his chest as if it were his armor and there was a firefight around.
"I hope you have good information, Mr. Ghent?" the Moff inquired, watching as the "Icepick" with blue hair but a completely childish character unceremoniously climbed into the soft armchair opposite the Moff's own desk — and climbed in with his legs.
Under other circumstances, Felix would have ordered the boy used to wipe the floor and washed together with the upholstery of the soft furniture. But for his genius, Mr. Zakarisz Ghent was forgiven much. However, he couldn't be allowed to continue behaving so "familiarly."
"Depends on what you consider 'good,'" Ghent declared. "I hacked their network."
"You did that a couple of weeks ago," Ferrus winced, remembering how persistently the "Icepick" had told him about breaking into the government data bank's security. That, in fact, was where the information came from about how the local elite actually lived.
"No, no, no," Zakarisz waved his hands. "I mean Kavil's Corsairs' servers."
"Pirates," things should be called by their names — they're no longer corsairs, just a large band of mercenaries who rob at will or by order of their numerous clients. "Do they even have servers?"
"As it turns out — yes," Ghent nodded so energetically that his hair turned into a blue hurricane. "They have quite extensive data banks where they store information about their allies, targets, cargo manifests for captured ships, and so on..."
"It's necessary for reporting to the government," Ferrus realized.
"Yes, certain document transfers happen every time one of the freighters or teams returns from a raid," Ghent agreed. "Just think... I ended up in the very place even Karrde tried to stay away from..."
"Less poetry, Mr. Ghent," Felix advised. "Did you obtain any information or have you come to waste my time?"
"Of course I did," the "Icepick" declared with an offended tone. "Look what I found. The government takes from the pirates for using Axila and its defense platforms a certain share of their spoils..."
"Ten percent, we already figured that out," Felix began to get irritated. "Is there anything else you've gotten access to?"
"That's the whole interesting part of the situation," the "Icepick" smiled. "Kavil's Corsairs have bases on Edus and Vandyne..."
"What?!" Ferrus jumped up from behind the desk, leaned over it, and snatched the "Icepick's" personal datapad, intending to see either confirmation or refutation of this information. But the lines on the screen spoke for themselves. "That can't be!"
Startled by the Moff's sudden actions, the "Icepick" stared at him with huge eyes, clearly not understanding what could have provoked such a reaction. Well, he wouldn't understand what it's like — after so many years of service, months of cleanup and establishing order in one's own sector — to learn that pirates had settled in two of the twelve star systems of your sector. And you had heard absolutely nothing about their presence.
Cursing under his breath, Felix returned the datapad to its owner.
"Is the information accurate?" the Moff inquired.
"Taken straight from their servers," Zakarisz spread his hands. "But that's not the most interesting part."
"Oh really?" the Moff almost blurted out. "So information that the pirate cleanup didn't accomplish anything — that's not the most important thing?"
"The thing is that at the moment, Kavil's Corsairs are actually managed by three lieutenants," Zakarisz continued. "Each is responsible for one base. On Axila, for example, it's Lieutenant Anilex. After Leonia Tavira, in order to bring the gang under her control, seduced and executed Kavil himself, Anilex took control of the organization's core. Of course, the lieutenants were over each group back then..."
"Stop," the Moff demanded. "Leonia Tavira showed up here too?"
"Well," Ghent hesitated. "At least that's what the corsairs' records say. But like I said — the kicker is something else..."
"So it's not that by Thrawn's order, Tavira was put through a sieve of breaking psychologies and placed at the head of auxiliary forces, and that could be the reason why Kavil's Corsairs might declare a hunt on the Dominion?"
"Long story short — get to the point," the Moff demanded.
"All three groups, after their raids, deliver cargo to Axila," Zakarisz said. "There it's appraised, the share is given to the government, and the rest is distributed among the pirates..."
"I'm going to hit him," Felix thought. He clearly wouldn't make it to the training hall.
"But the gangs on Edus and Vandyne don't send all their spoils to Axila," the "Icepick" moved to the main point, as if sensing the impending doom hanging over him. "I found traces that the manifests of captured ships are falsified. I restored them — and I must say that the pirates in your sector deliver no more than fifty percent to Anilex. More than half of all goods remain with the other groups..."
"But this Anilex does the same thing," Felix waved dismissively.
"He's a former military from Axxila's Anti-Piracy Fleet," said the "Icepick." "He was, until Kavil lured him and some officers into privateering. And his paperwork is in order... He's generally kind of strange."
"In what sense?" Ferrus didn't understand.
"Well, he doesn't encourage slave trading from Axila, introduced strict discipline among his pirates, is fairly lenient with prisoners — his pirates only kill those who resist, there are no 'psychos' or thugs among his fighters. Essentially, he's only interested in the cargo — he offers the crew or owner a chance to buy back the ship. And, unlike other gangs, he doesn't demand ransom for the lives of captured freighter crew members, just lets them go. And yes, he's categorically against attacking the Empire — but I think it's because the New Republic participated in the destruction of Kavil at Tavira's instigation. If I understood correctly, he's trying to bring order to Axxila's Lower Level, gradually winding down the illegal spice trade, and fixing up the slums..."
"A real picture-perfect hero, ready to be put on a propaganda poster," the Moff snorted. But in his head, certain thoughts were already forming.
"As I understand, the government of Axila doesn't like him because his actions lead to a reduction of passive income from the planet..."
"I see," Ferrus interrupted. It seemed he had found a way to solve the problem. "How do I contact him?"
"He went out on a hunt a few days ago," Ghent shrugged. "Where — unknown."
"I want to know — where he is," the Moff demanded. "By any means."
"Well..." Zakarisz hesitated. "It won't be fast. You could look for engine signature marks of his ship in the open spaceport database, but I think it's unlikely..."
"Son," Felix leaned forward. "Don't think. Do — that's more important!"
"Well..." the "Icepick" sighed mournfully. "I'll try to do something. There are a couple of ways to pull this off in a few hours, but I'll need to connect to a HoloNet relay."
"How lucky that there's one within ten parsecs," Felix grinned. "Get to work, Mr. Ghent."
When the door of the cabin closed behind the carefree "Icepick" with a child's soul, only one thought reigned in Moff Ferrus's head.
Why doesn't Thrawn clone such valuable specialists as Mr. Ghent?
* * *
Throughout all ages, rulers are very sensitive about their crowned persons being insulted by subordinates, even trusted ones. Even if out of the best intentions.
The punishment for such is inevitable death. Palpatine does not forgive mistakes and errors. That is why Kaine spoke about the Emperor's person in exactly that context.
No matter how grand a Moff he was, no matter how useful — if he recorded the conversation, then by presenting it to Palpatine himself or his servants, he would first earn a blaster shot to the back of his own head. And only then would they deal with me.
This tirade is a signal that Kaine is ready to speak frankly.
Well, that's encouraging.
Handing me a crystal glass, filled a third full with an amber liquid, he sighed with relief.
"You know, until you addressed me by name, I kept expecting the salon wall to explode and your guards to pour in to arrest me and carry me to that bastard's feet..."
Guards? No, not at all. But Noghri... Rukh is sitting in the ventilation right now, while Grodin Tierce and a couple of guards are putting up a proportionate honor guard at the entrance to this compartment.
"What conditions were set for you?" I inquired.
Somehow our conversation naturally shifted from official to friendly. Well, let's see, maybe I'll gain an ally...
"Continue building ships," Kaine said. "Declare a secret mobilization and begin maneuvers. They are demanding I build about two hundred 'Dragons' in the near future. And the same number again by the end of the year."
"Dragon, Dragon... Clearly he's not talking about my ship. Then what? Some new type of cruiser? Or on the contrary — old but experimental, which is why I know nothing about it?"
"Galactic Dragon."
Seeing my silence, Kaine placed a portable holoprojector on the table.
Above it, almost immediately, a white-blue image of a starship with a rounded shape uncharacteristic of the Empire began to glow.
"Only one such ship has been built," Kaine sighed. "The Galactic Dragon. It was commanded during tests by Moff Delurin. A tub good only for chasing natives — useless for line combat. Blackhole ordered me to build them..."
"Because they are meant to guard conquered and weakened systems," I finished. The Grand Moff nodded silently.
"Blackhole, I take it, is the Director of Imperial Intelligence, predecessor to Ysanne Isard?" I clarified. As unfortunate as it is to admit, I had heard very little about this character. He was supposedly the hero of a comic series, but... In my past life, I had more important things to do than read pamphlets for teenagers. And... it seems I was wrong not to do so. Because more and more often I encounter events that I only knew about in general terms from encyclopedias, but not from primary sources. This could be a problem — when it comes to details.
"At least that's how he operates," Kaine grimaced. "I've never seen him in any other way except as a hologram. It's like his personal style..."
Or a way to hide his true identity. We've already pulled a similar trick with the Republicans. Technically not simple, but feasible. So behind Blackhole's guise there might be not himself, but someone using appropriate 'decorations.'
If so, then I should return to Mara Jade's report on her work during the mission to Yaga Minor. Because that was when she learned that Imperial Intelligence receives data on servers installed on ships. And the location of starships can be determined. It's quite likely that one could both ascertain Blackhole's identity and ask him pertinent questions. Not to mention gaining access to the entire agent network or available intelligence information of the Ubiqtorate.
I should pay attention to this aspect as well.
"Let's get down to business," I suggested. "What is this meeting and conversation about?"
"Well... I still want to get Octavian back," Kaine said. "Though I'm not the only one."
"Palpatine?" No need to guess there. The Grand Moff nodded in agreement. "Is there an understanding of why he needs him?"
"Officially — to execute him for treason," Kaine sighed. "Demonstratively, cruelly, and so on — everything he loves."
"But there's another version, isn't there?" I clarified.
"There are things not even the Ubiqtorate knows about," Kaine reluctantly admitted. "Octavian developed many strategic plans for me, so if he falls into their hands, he'll first be turned inside out by Blackhole, and only then delivered to Palpatine. The leak of this information would jeopardize the defensive capability of the Pentastar Alignment."
And the coordinates of Bastion.
"Are you suggesting arranging his escape?" I proposed.
"Not even the dumbest clerk would buy that," Kaine grimaced. "I suspect Blackhole didn't show the Emperor's interest in Grant's person for nothing. Whatever happens to him now — it will become our fault. He dies from a sleeping pill overdose, the shuttle transporting him explodes, he escapes — none of that will be convincing enough for those who want his head."
It depends on how one plays out such a scenario.
There's no point even asking the Grand Moff why he's worried about his secrets becoming available to third parties. It's clear what he fears.
"I don't believe Blackhole's and Palpatine's promises that everything will stay as it is," Kaine admitted. "He'll use us first, drain our resources and troops to the front lines, and then occupy the Alignment and the other Remnants. I looked into his eyes, I talked to him... The bastard is considerably younger than when I saw him ten years ago. But this is madness... He is obsessed with the idea of personal revenge. And he wants to burn down everything he doesn't like. I am not willing to lay what I built with my own hands on the altar of his revenge. I think you understand that too..."
Regarding myself — yes, I understand. After the glorious victory over the New Republic that Palpatine imagines I will provide him, victorious commanders are not needed. Such people are quickly pushed aside, at best to the periphery, at worst — physically eliminated. Neither option interests me. Because with a ruler like Palpatine's insane clone, the most likely outcome is the transition from the first position to the second.
"Consequently, it is necessary to secure the territory," I said.
Kaine looked at me with hope.
"Execute Grant," he said quietly.
"An interesting proposal," I remarked. "Don't want to put yourself under Palpatine's blow, so you're offering me?"
"Neither of us is long for this world, you understand that, don't you?" Kaine inquired. "But you have time to get to your Dominion and organize a defense. The Alignment, however, if I kill Octavian myself, lies in the zone of a direct strike from the Core."
Kaine seems overly... fatalistic.
In my memory, he supported Thrawn, wasn't a big supporter of the New Order, joined Palpatine, but remained alive. No one even looked at him sideways.
What is the reason for what is practically hysterics at this point?
"The Ubiqtorate didn't approve your decision to give me the ships, did they?" I clarified.
"They advised against it the first time, but the second time... well, it's like they don't care anymore," Kaine said, surprised by the change of topic. "Actually, it was their idea to install 'beacons' on the ships. Now I pulled the starships directly from patrols to ensure they weren't stuffed with any nasty surprises. You understand — I didn't have time to scan each ship. And there's no guarantee that the specialists who would do it are loyal to me and not to Blackhole."
Now the picture gains edges.
When Thrawn was supported only financially, everyone was fine with that.
The Ubiqtorate didn't want me to have more warships, but I forced Kaine to give them to me. Apparently this was seen as secret alliance — because by that time I had already been noticed in attempts to 'build political bridges.'
In other words, they had simply 'written him off' in advance. Whether he realized this or just suspects — that's a tenth-order question.
"The problem with Grant will be solved," I promised.
Kaine sighed with relief.
"I hope you're not planning to extract information from him and then cut the thread?" he tensed.
"We are currently discussing actual betrayal of Palpatine," I noted. "I don't care about the Alignment or anything else. I am exclusively interested in the Dominion."
"Glad to hear it," Kaine said reluctantly. "So I take it you'll request something for your service? Those 'Avengers' I brought with me, you'll certainly take them, won't you...?"
"And a billion credits," I reminded.
"Well yes," Grand Moff Kaine smirked. "I had to shake down the bankers on Muunilinst and Mygeito quite a bit — but I got the required amount. In the currency you requested."
"Splendid," I assured him. "Now let's move to details. I need technical data on the Dragon-class cruisers."
Because it's necessary to understand what this 'wunderwaffe' is, what potential it has, and also — how it could help or harm me. Even a 'colonial stationer' is a very combat-capable starship in the conditions of a galaxy far, far away. And when there are hundreds of them...
No, armored trains should be crushed while they are still irons.
"The construction of the Dragons is under Ubiqtorate control — there are more of their agents on the shipyards than actual workers," Kaine admitted. "I would gladly hand you the technical documentation, but that would primarily put me at risk."
Logical. Accepted as a response with sufficient logic and motivation.
But it doesn't remove the problem from the agenda.
"Do you have information on the location of the Galactic Dragon itself?" I inquired.
"Very superficial and vague," Kaine admitted. "My contacts at Kuat Drive Yards are extensive, of course, but they are not briefed on the military purpose of the ship or the location of its military trials, so everything I say is no more than assumptions based on rumors. I even got this hologram," he nodded toward the volumetric projection, "from my people there. There is little information about the Galactic Dragon itself after its completion. I know that the Galactic Dragon was commanded by Moff Delurin during prototype testing after construction. The ship was built on an Imperial-controlled assembly line in the Obstrekt sector, Karavis system. That's where the ship information came from. Its known use was the bombardment of the planet Miko in the Sorella system, Esaga sector. It is located in the Mid Rim, on the border with Hutt Space. As far as I remember, Delurin controlled that territory, but when the power crisis erupted after Palpatine's death, he was 'pushed aside.' Delurin fled on the Galactic Dragon, rumor has it — somewhere toward the Wild Space sector. Scattered rumors indicate that the bastard is still alive — I confirmed this fact through my contacts among smugglers. Delurin is hanging around somewhere in quadrant N-14, 'north' of Endor and the Moddell sector. Supposedly there are systems populated by primitive non-humans there. With his cruiser he could have subjugated them..."
And also become one of the many warlords who serve as conduits for Palpatine's will.
"The Karavis system is part of the Pentastar Alignment," I recalled. "It seems to me you should have at least a general idea of how the Galactic Dragon is armed. Since you have such good contacts with Kuat Drive Yards, as you say..."
A smirk appeared on Ardus Kaine's lips.
"Seven hundred meters in length, fifteen turbolaser batteries, seven launch tubes for proton torpedoes or assault missiles, numerous quad turbolaser turret emplacements," Kaine said without hesitation. "I was unfortunately unable to obtain more precise information — at the Kuat Drive Yards facilities I have access to, after rotation there aren't many left who could recall this construction. So don't hold it against me — I didn't manage to acquire the tactical-technical specifications."
"I'll get them myself," I assured him, momentarily wondering if the source of information about Moff Delurin was the well-known Mr. Karrde. "I will also need precise information on where Delurin and his ship are currently located."
"Why?" Kaine asked in genuine surprise.
I tilted my head slightly, as if deciding to look at him from a different angle.
"Well yes, what was I thinking," Kaine chuckled. "Everyone has their secrets. I'll say this — that information is extremely expensive..."
"Did Talon Karrde decide to charge the Imperials higher commissions?" I clarified.
The Grand Moff grimaced, seeing that his little machinations were not as big a secret as he had apparently hoped. Well, sorry, I can't help there. The Galactic Dragon may have been created as a 'scarecrow for natives,' but what bothers me is that Palpatine paid attention to this seemingly 'not ready for line combat project.' The Galactic Dragon and the cruisers built to its design might turn out to be not such a 'weakling' as Kaine sees it.
"Yes," the ruler of the Alignment admitted. "The price is insane. I heard he's had certain troubles lately..."
"As have we all," I assured.
All this is empty talk.
Kaine may be worried about himself and his future, but at the same time he shows no readiness for active action.
Well, this situation should be clarified.
"Are you familiar with the name Ennix Devian?" I clarified.
Across the Grand Moff's face ran a wave of rage, contempt, a desire to personally kill the named intelligent being.
"More than," he admitted. His voice seethed with anger. "I assume you didn't ask this question in the context of telling me where his grave is?"
"Quite the opposite," I admitted. "I have information that Palpatine's hired assassin is alive and very well. Not to mention that he is gathering a fleet and his own forces to begin the restoration of the New Order."
"Is that so," Ardus ground his teeth. He reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass. And again drank it in one gulp. Hmm... Should I remind him of the dangers of alcoholism? Because I haven't even touched my glass — the dialogue is more than interesting. "I think you know there are rumors that he pocketed one of the inhabited spheres in orbit of Coruscant after the Defeat at Endor?"
"He took both," I clarified.
"I am only interested in the one that was intended for me," Kaine said firmly.
"According to my information, one of the spheres was destroyed almost immediately after the Battle of Endor," I said. "Devian passed it off as another 'Death Star.' And while the Rebel Alliance was deciding how to dispose of the object, Devian attacked their shipyards and stole ships."
"Hitting from ambush is his favorite tactic," Kaine said bitterly. "So I take it you have information on where he is now?"
"I know the region of the galaxy where he's holed up," I summarized the information. "And I am taking measures to flush him out from there."
"Going against one of Palpatine's lackeys means openly challenging the latter," Kaine remarked.
"According to my information, Devian isn't loyal to Palpatine and isn't serving him at the moment," I said, drawing on knowledge from my past life. Because I really, really didn't want my actions to alter current reality so much that the Revived Emperor would put his mercenary to work.
"Let's say that's true," Kaine agreed. "Why the question about Devian?"
"As I understand it, you'd like to get your hands on him?" I inquired.
"I prefer my enemy whole," Ardus's voice took on a cruel edge. "And to kill him during the 'conversation.'"
"I can try to arrange that."
Kaine grunted approvingly.
"I sense this isn't exactly an altruistic impulse," he said with a smirk.
"Not at all," I confirmed. "You pointed out yourself that we're 'friends in misfortune,' but not allies."
"At least we're not enemies, as our mutual acquaintances tried to make us," Kaine said darkly.
"I couldn't agree more," I said. "I'll do everything possible to deliver Devian to you."
"What's the price?" Kaine asked, turning practical. After a pause, he added with a smile: "I won't give you the Reaper, that's for sure."
"Too bad," I said, pretending to be disappointed. "Well, in that case, I assume you won't mind if I take the habitable sphere?"
The Grand Moff was silent for a while, pondering my words and the subtext they contained.
"You could have said nothing about it to me at all," he remarked. "Taken it for yourself, found a quiet corner to hide it in... A war trophy, after all."
"Yes," I agreed.
So, Kaine, follow the thought.
"You don't want us to have grounds for mutual claims," Kaine said, living up to my expectations.
"We both understand that the current situation and the prospects for the near future are rather grim," I said. "There's no certainty that Palpatine will actually keep his word and not go to war with us."
"He'll send his assassins instead," Kaine admitted. "I'm sure he has plenty."
"Including those sensitive to the Force," I noted.
"Jedi?" the Grand Moff asked, surprised.
"More like Inquisitors," I corrected. "I know of at least seven such beings. They call themselves the 'Dark Side Elite.' They're commanded by someone named Sedriss. Another one — someone by the name of Solusar."
No one had told me their names, but I remembered them from my past life. And from the Expanded Universe books, not from the comics that described the events of Operation Shadow Hand.
"Plus Palpatine himself," the Grand Moff said thoughtfully. "The name 'Sedriss' isn't familiar to me. Neither is 'Solusar.'"
As if it could be otherwise.
"Alright," Kaine agreed. "Palpatine, the Dark Side Elite, Devian... How does it all connect?"
"I have strong suspicions that Palpatine is negotiating with some of the current warlords about them joining his forces," I continued. "Devian clearly commands a considerable number of former Imperials, qualified specialists, and professional soldiers. Some of them will be taken prisoner after I deal with Devian."
"And?" Kaine still didn't understand.
"I don't need them," I clarified. "But at the same time, you mentioned you've suffered certain losses among specialists who decided to relocate to the Dominion."
"You're offering to hand over Devian's former soldiers to me?" Kaine grimaced. "They're likely just as much bastards as Palpatine's hired killer himself."
"All the easier to send them to war with the New Republic, don't you think?" I clarified. "After all, what difference does it make if they die? No one likes radicals these days. And you'll be able to save the lives of your loyal people. Perhaps even hide certain starships from Palpatine's gaze."
"Building my own reserve," Kaine nodded understandingly. "Yes, not a bad idea. But I'm more than certain that the Ubiqtorate has long since counted and cataloged every ship I have. Blackhole is such a creature — cunning and devious... I suspect he's the one overseeing Palpatine's work while he's holed up in the Deep Core."
"I've had the same thoughts," I confirmed. "Now let's imagine a hypothetical situation. The Ubiqtorate's oversight simply disappears."
"How?" Kaine was taken aback. "They're always poking their noses where they don't belong."
"It's a hypothetical situation," I reminded him. "The Ubiqtorate and Blackhole stop breathing down your neck. Would that make your life easier?"
"At least until some other Palpatine lackey shows up demanding my submission," Kaine snorted. "But if you're planning this, Thrawn... It's... it's bold, certainly, but... One mistake and they'll unleash all the rancors on you."
"Fear of rancors shouldn't keep you from entering Hutt palaces," I noted.
"That's an interesting saying," Kaine chuckled. "Never heard it before."
"A Jedi friend told it to me," I lied without batting an eye.
"Interesting," Kaine grinned. "Is Skywalker on your side?"
"He's loyal to the New Republic," I noted. "But that doesn't mean he can't be used in certain circumstances."
"Alright, let's say the Ubiqtorate stops breathing down my neck," Kaine said. "What then?"
"Tens, possibly hundreds of thousands of soldiers formerly under Devian's command will arrive for you," I noted. "What you do next is your own affair. I've suggested a possible course of events."
"Hiding ships isn't that simple," Kaine frowned.
"But they could be lost in battles with Republic raiders," I noted. "If you recall, Krennel faced similar problems, Valles Santhe is suffering colossal losses from her ships being captured by the New Republic..."
"Blackhole once mentioned that Lianna is ready to break all contracts with Coruscant," the Grand Moff remarked. "Mon Mothma's office accuses Santhe of building a 'Death Star,' and the old lady insists that the rebels are attacking her transport ships."
"Not long ago, I repelled an attack on the Oplovis sector," I had to remind him. "Nearly ten raider groups."
Ardus whistled admiringly.
"Yes, I suppose ships could disappear due to New Republic raider attacks," he agreed, smiling contentedly. "But again, there's the question of price."
"I'd prefer to take it in aurodium," I admitted.
Kaine's expression openly soured with disappointment.
"You intend to drain my entire aurodium reserve?" he clarified.
"Only what you're willing to provide," I noted. "As I understand it, the Pentastar Alignment has no currency or money problems?"
"Something like that," Kaine said gloomily. "Any other options?"
"Why not?" I feigned surprise. "There are. Don't you need a pretext to send your ships on raids into peripheral systems in search of New Republic raider groups?"
"Having them already appear there should be enough," Kaine noted. "Extra security..."
"No one will believe that," I stated. "But your transports carrying turbolasers and Imperial equipment for arming ships under construction being attacked by Coruscant raiders... Now that would be a suitable pretext to launch a search campaign."
The Grand Moff was stunned for a moment.
Then a knowing smile spread across his face.
"So I take it the missing military equipment will be counted toward payment for our agreement on supplying Devian's former men?"
"Not only that," I clarified. "In my opinion, it would look extremely suspicious if, instead of handing Octavian Grant over to you, he died, and you then transferred the promised starships and money to me."
"Yes, that would raise a lot of questions," Kaine agreed. Grinning, he said: "Turbolasers, deflectors, engines, spare parts... Worth over two billion credits, right?"
"I think 'over five' would be a much more accurate figure," I noted.
"What, are you planning to build a couple of Executors?" Kaine asked, surprised.
My brow shot up again.
"What, have Kuat Drive Yards stopped holding a grudge against me for attacking the planet Xa Fel and confiscating their hyperdrives?" I clarified.
"No," Kaine admitted. "Even if they're afraid to stick their heads out of their sector or launch a punitive operation, seeing how you're mauling the New Republic, they certainly haven't abandoned their plans to punish whoever damaged their reputation. Not anytime soon, at least."
"To be more precise — until they're disabused of the notion that they could get away with it," I clarified.
"That's why they prefer to raise their prices for the New Republic," Kaine agreed.
"But not for you, am I right?" I clarified.
"The Pentastar Alignment has a pretty large number of Kuat enterprises," Kaine admitted. "If they try to negotiate with me from a position of strength, I'll nationalize everything they have via confiscation. If they try to come and prove I was wrong, I'll grind them to dust."
"Well said," I admitted. "Alright, I think it's time to move on to a more detailed discussion of our criminal conspiracy against Palpatine and his minions. I think, since I'm taking on the bulk of the actions and running the greater risk, the number of 'transports with cargo captured by raiders' should be proportionally larger."
"Don't put your finger in Thrawn's mouth," Kaine said with admiration. "He'll bite it off up to your chest."
"Those are the harsh realities of life in these turbulent times," I shrugged. "To maintain the legend of waging war exclusively against the New Republic while simultaneously weakening Palpatine's potential allies, I'm going to need a huge amount of various resources. Weapons, stormtrooper gear, spare parts for vehicles and starships, turbolasers, ammunition, plasma drills for mining..."
"What do you need the last ones for?" Kaine asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I want to drill my way to the truth," I replied evasively, pulling a comlink from my pocket. "Turn off the scrambler for a couple of minutes — I need to give orders regarding the transport of Octavian Grant to the Reaper. We've been alone together for far too long. The Ubiqtorate's agents aboard your flagship must be getting restless. And we still need to discuss a number of details, including the prisoner transfer. I don't think we should hide that from our ill-wishers — it would arouse too much suspicion."
"With what relish I will slit their throats when it can be done without major consequences," Kaine assured me darkly, deactivating the device that interfered with the electronics.
"I'm not even going to talk you out of it," I admitted, dialing the comlink frequency. "A small request, Grand Moff. Could you assemble a 'reception committee' in the Reaper's main hangar? I want to hand over the traitor to you as quickly as possible and get my ships. I have business to attend to..."
* * *
Every member of the Reaper's crew present in the main hangar was impassive.
But inside, a fire of joy burned — from the moment the landing struts of the Lambda-class shuttle touched the deck of the Super Star Destroyer.
The most famous traitor of the Empire after Darth Vader, Grand Admiral Octavian Grant, was finally found and delivered into the hands of the one who would carry out his sentence.
The harshest punishment would befall this fool, through whose weak character and ego so many Imperials had died...
The prisoner, shackled in cuffs and dressed in a bright orange prison jumpsuit, was escorted by two stormtroopers. Though, what kind of stormtroopers were these? Their gait was wooden, movements jerky, no coordination at all... Clearly some hastily trained, mobilized civilians trying to look confident and professional. It was appalling.
"I thought prisoners were supposed to be in binders," Grand Moff Kaine said, displeased, to Grand Admiral Thrawn, who was standing in the company of two Imperial Guards, one major, and one gray-skinned alien.
The Supreme Commander of the Empire glanced at his interlocutor.
They spoke quietly, but the senior officers of the Reaper standing nearby had the pleasure of hearing everything.
"He has nowhere to run on this ship," Thrawn said calmly. "After he's handed over to you, you can do whatever you want. I'm only interested in the ships and the money promised in exchange for him."
"Well, of course, what else would concern you," Kaine snorted. His face betrayed not a single emotion except indifference to everything happening. But his voice carried irritation.
"And they accuse me of treason," Grant chuckled as he approached. "What, Thrawn, didn't manage to use me?"
"Why not?" the Grand Admiral inquired, surprised. "For you, I get the resources I need. You, on the other hand, will stand trial."
"I'll happily find myself a villa somewhere on a tropical planet," Grant snorted. "People like me aren't killed by people like you," he said, contemptuously eyeing the Grand Moff and the Grand Admiral. "A coward and an alien. The perfect pair."
"Say whatever you want, Octavian," Kaine's voice was laced with anger. "Until you're executed. But first, I'll have your tongue cut out."
A shadow of fear crossed Grant's face.
"You wouldn't dare," he said, paling. "I'm too valuable to you..."
"Your treason has reduced your value to zero," Kaine said irritably. "Your place is on the gallows. Escort!" From the guard company of stormtroopers — real ones, not the cheap imitations Thrawn was using — a squad of soldiers in immaculate white armor stepped forward. "Take this renegade scum to a cell... Lock him up and make sure no one speaks to him until we hand him over to the Emperor."
Oh yes... The Reaper's crew, as the elite ship of the Alignment, had already been initiated into the secret of the Galactic Empire's ruler's imminent return. And they skillfully concealed it from those unfortunate souls not trusted with such secret and important information.
"No, Ardus, no!" Grant cried out. Apparently, the traitor had realized that the leader of the Pentastar Alignment's words about his final destination were no joke. "Don't you dare hand me over to him! I... I know a lot! I... I know a lot about Thrawn! He has secrets!"
"We all have secrets," Kaine shrugged. "As you can see, the Grand Admiral is standing next to me. And you're standing opposite. We serve one master. And you..."
"NO-O-O-O!" Grant roared.
Then something happened that only confirmed the worthlessness of Grand Admiral Thrawn's armed forces.
The prisoner, not shackled in cuffs or manacles due to the transmitting side's negligence, shoved one of his escorts from Thrawn's "fake stormtroopers." Snatching an E-11 blaster rifle from his hands, Octavian Grant looked around frantically.
"I won't surrender," he said firmly. "No! Just listen to me! I was on Thrawn's secret base, there..."
The roar of a blaster burst cut off the traitor's screams and his life.
The second "worthless" stormtrooper, after riddling the traitor's body with a burst, managed to leave several scorch marks on the shuttle and the mirror-like surface of the deck...
The Grand Moff cursed, rushing to the traitor's body, which had collapsed onto the deck. He checked the pulse of the executed man, but it was unnecessary — instead of one eye, a nearly through-and-through hole gaped in Octavian Grant's head.
"Thrawn!" Kaine roared. "What was that?!"
The Grand Admiral stood with a face betraying not a single emotion. He didn't answer the question, only looked at the faceplates of both blundering stormtroopers' helmets.
"Who ordered you to open fire?" he asked.
"Thrawn!" Kaine continued to rage. "Thrawn!"
"Sir, I..." the stormtrooper who had killed the prisoner hesitated. "I... panicked... He had a weapon and... Disarmed my comrade... Could have hurt you..."
If this man was trying to express any regret for what had happened, for his irresponsibility, he certainly failed to do so because of the helmet's vocoder, which concealed the slightest nuances of his voice. Consequently, the stormtrooper's speech sounded as though it was being rattled off by a droid.
"How long have you been in service?" Thrawn asked both of the would-be escorts.
"A month, sir," they both replied almost in unison.
"Thrawn!" Kaine barked.
"One moment, Grand Moff," the Grand Admiral made a gesture to the gray-skinned humanoid accompanying him. "You've let me down for the first and last time. Your service is over."
Judging by the fact that both stormtroopers tried to say something and even began gesturing with their hands, they understood what was about to happen to them.
Blades black as night flickered in the hands of the Grand Admiral's bodyguard.
The next instant, each was sticking out of the eye sockets of the stormtroopers, who were toppling backward. Only the crackle and flicker of the electronics shorting out inside their helmets indicated that there had been some sort of processing inside that part of the armor. Unfortunately, not the thought processes in the stormtroopers' heads — and they paid for it.
"Remove the bodies," Thrawn said, addressing the guards standing behind him.
Both quickly dragged the corpses onto the shuttle.
"You will answer for this, Thrawn!" Kaine said, beside himself with rage. "Before the Emperor himself!"
"Yes," the Grand Admiral confirmed. "I'm sure retribution won't be long in coming. I sincerely regret that this happened. I assure you, in future cooperation..."
"Go to a Hutt, you filthy alien!" Kaine barked, clenching his teeth and fists. "Get off my ship! And I don't want to see hide nor hair of you near my borders!"
"Agreed," the Grand Admiral replied quietly. "There's nothing more for me to do here. Good day, Grand Moff."
With a slow step, clearly trying to preserve the remnants of his personal pride, the supposedly most brilliant of Grand Admirals boarded his shuttle and soon departed the Reaper.
Leaving behind both the ships promised to him, the aurodium, and hundreds of thousands of witnesses to his unforgivable mistake.