Nine years, eight months, and thirty-five days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, eight months, and thirty-five days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and twenty days since the Arrival.)
Moff Joshua Victus was fighting drowsiness with all his might.
Generally, at negotiations of this level, one should be well-rested, well-slept, and even informed about the meeting's agenda. However, this was not the case here.
He absolutely did not care what the beings sitting across from him were saying. He certainly wasn't going to pretend their arguments meant anything to him.
And only out of respect for the one who had made it clear she wanted him at this meeting did Joshua at least refrain from yawning out of boredom.
Moff Joshua Victus.
There is a philosophical question: "Is it hard to be an Emperor?" Various philosophers had been tearing each other's throats out for the last thirty-odd years, trying either to whitewash or blacken Palpatine's rule, portraying him as either a liberator from the tyranny of the Jedi or, conversely, an enslaver.
Victus frankly did not care about the correct answer.
In his life, there could only be one question of a similar nature: "Is it hard to be the Moff of the planet Lianna?"
And he would answer without hesitation: "Yes."
Hard.
Very hard.
So hard that, having a couple of mistresses, he couldn't visit them more than once a month, preferring his ungrateful spouse—his work. And as it happened, the woman who had given him this "marriage" was now sitting to his left, listening with an indifferent expression as the New Republic's advisor twisted diplomatic language.
Lady Santhe listened, answered, asked questions.
Knowing her character and temperament, the Moff was certain the negotiations would end with the lady sending the princess of the deceased Alderaan on a long, far, and one-way journey.
But the next moment, the Moff straightened up and began to listen intently—Valles had signaled that she would soon need his participation in the conversation. That happened very rarely.
Which meant—boredom aside, it was time to engage.
"The New Republic is prepared to confirm that we are not conducting raids against the ships of your corporation and its subsidiaries," Leia Organa Solo said. "Any guarantee letters..."
"Suppose," Santhe gave a barely perceptible nod. "Moff Victus, what confirmation measures can we demand from Coruscant to be certain that the princess's story about the New Republic's non-involvement in the attacks on our transport ships and the regular seizure of cargoes is true?"
Ah... So that's why he was needed.
"If the New Republic is ready to provide us with all identification data of its Defense Forces ships, then of course," Joshua said. "We would obtain objective control data—we would know where their ships are."
It seemed the princess's eye twitched.
Getting nervous, my dear? Well, this is only the beginning, the flowers, so to speak. We'll give you a whole basket of berries.
"Is that a joke?" the Republican asked.
"Moff Victus does not possess a sense of humor," Santhe countered.
Really?
"I'm sorry, but I simply cannot interpret his words any other way," Princess Organa Solo declared. "Providing such data would mean..."
."..that we would know where every one of your ships is," Joshua finished for her, understanding that Valles had shifted the responsibility to him for getting rid of the insolent woman. "Otherwise, we have no way to be certain that your ships aren't near our cargo convoys."
"You are asking us to hand over completely secret information," the princess stated.
"We know," Joshua confirmed.
He also knew that the new owners of Coruscant might be frivolous and gullible, but they were far from idiots.
Probably.
Well, at least some of them.
"We cannot agree to that," the Republican said with a sorrowful sigh. "Guarantee letters..."
"Just paper," Victus declared. "In the best case, a non-rewritable file. Tell me, Councilor, if Emperor Palpatine had given you a guarantee letter back in the day, stating that the Empire was not involved in the destruction of Alderaan and would not take revenge on those who blew up the Death Star, would you have been satisfied with such a document?"
"Of course not," the woman blurted out. Catching herself, she added:
"The Emperor was a tyrant..."
"Not much has changed since then," Santhe joined the conversation.
"Everything has changed!" the princess declared.
Joshua leaned forward, steepling his fingers and interlacing them to rest his chin on them.
"Is that so?" he clarified. "Well, let's look at this from our point of view. First, Grand Admiral Thrawn warns us that the New Republic uses Imperial methods of maintaining power. We didn't believe him. Then, we learn that a certain group of rebels is conducting operations against the Empire—and they quite justifiably receive retaliatory aggression from the Supreme Commander of the Empire. The same Grand Admiral Thrawn. Next, the entire galaxy witnesses the New Republic accusing the Sluissi Hegemony of building a 'Death Star.' You level the same accusations at us. The New Republic carries out an act of aggression against Prince-Admiral Krennel, leader of one of the Imperial Remnants, and it leads to his death. But no 'Death Star' is found. Around the same time, raids against our convoys begin—and they are carried out by Mon Calamari Star Cruisers. With Republican identifiers. Our starships are boarded by non-humans..."
"I myself was a prisoner of Thrawn," the princess stated. "He captured a large number of our starships. And non-human races serve him."
"And he's not far from them himself," Lady Santhe declared. "And we fully admit the possibility that Thrawn may have been misleading us. And even the fact that the crews of our ships are not killed, but are evacuated to escape craft and reach territory controlled by our conglomerate, rather indicates that this is unlikely to be the work of the New Republic."
"There, you see!" the princess said emphatically.
"However," Lady Santhe raised her index finger, "there is something that we did not include in our response notes to Coruscant. Something we decided to keep for just such an occasion."
"As I understand it, you are now ready to state your position," the princess assumed.
"Without a doubt," Valles confirmed. "Are you aware of the Wookiees' dislike for the Empire?"
"Of course," the princess confirmed. "A close family friend, Chewbacca, is from Kashyyyk. The Empire enslaved them, killed them for sport and..."
"So you are aware of the basic reasons for the Wookiees' hatred of Imperials," Santhe said. "Then tell me, Councilor Organa Solo, what would have to happen, what would Thrawn, whom you accuse of staging everything, have to do, for Wookiees to serve as heavy assault infantry in his boarding parties alongside humans, Zabrak, and several other races?"
Joshua almost laughed, seeing the princess's mouth drop open in surprise. Yes, my dear, that's exactly why we held back that information.
"There must be some mistake," she murmured. "There are very few Wookiees in the New Republic's forces and..."
"Are you prepared to provide data on the entire numerical strength of the New Republic's armed forces?" Victus inquired.
"No," the princess said firmly, casting a plaintive glance at the secretary droid standing beside her. "That is classified information."
"Well then, let's talk about what isn't classified," Lady Santhe suggested, putting on a 'knowing' smile. Joshua almost laughed. Alright, Republican, you're about to get your face wiped. "The Lusankya."
The princess tensed. Apparently, this wasn't the question she'd expected. Well, that's why it was asked.
"Do you want to know something about that ship?" the princess asked.
"Certainly," Santhe agreed. "How do you on Coruscant manage to simultaneously broadcast propaganda about the symbols of the New Order's despotism, while at the same time restoring a ship that Iceheart used to torture sentients and turn them into living weapons?"
"The Lusankya is now nothing more than a warship," Organa Solo declared, pursing her lips.
"And, according to the Constitution, the New Republic has only Defense Forces," Moff Victus confirmed. "But that didn't help Prince-Admiral Krennel, as you can see. You sent a fleet after him. And you would have conquered the Sluissi Hegemony if Grand Admiral Thrawn's help hadn't arrived in time."
"Well, it certainly arrived quickly enough," the princess shot back.
"Who cares when," the Moff shrugged. "It's an Imperial Remnant. Thrawn is the Supreme Commander. Who, according to rumors and reports, has a habit of anticipating his opponents' moves. So, unlike you, he was on his own territory, so to speak."
"Besides," Santhe said, "the raids that began against us could be blamed on Thrawn. But there's a problem—they stole repaired or purchased New Republic equipment like TIE fighters. Standard models. I could believe that the attacks on our transports were Thrawn's doing, since he needed fighters and interceptors. But now, by our information—outdated as it may be—he has illegal production of such machines under his control, enough to supply an entire sector fleet. So there's no point in him continuing the raids—yet they continue. At the same time, the New Republic is experiencing an increasing shortage of small craft because we terminated your supply and repair contracts. However, according to our data, the New Republic hasn't increased purchases from, say, Incom. An interesting coincidence, don't you think?"
"Are you trying to accuse us of something?" There was a metallic edge to the princess's voice.
"If I wanted to, you would already feel the consequences," Santhe promised. "But at the moment, I see that raiding operations are being conducted against us, and my company is suffering losses. And not long ago, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine also reported that attacks had begun on his equipment convoys. And what a coincidence—Mon Calamari Star Cruisers are involved again."
"As I've already said, Thrawn has a large amount of our equipment in stock..."
"As I've already said, I have serious doubts that he is involved here at all," Santhe stated.
"Not to mention that the New Republic transferred a significant number of Star Cruisers and other warships to him in exchange for your prisoners of war," Moff Victus said, pretending to study his fingernails. "But that's also a coincidence, isn't it?"
"Lady Santhe," the Republican said in a toneless voice. "I assure you that the New Republic is not involved in the attacks on your convoys. As proof of our words, we are prepared to provide our own fleet to escort the transports..."
"To make them even easier to capture?" Moff Victus clarified.
"To provide them with security," the New Republic diplomat said sharply, giving Joshua a heavy look.
"That offer is unacceptable," Valles declared. "We will not allow any military ships near our transport convoys. All possible options for cooperation have already been announced to the Provisional Government of the New Republic. There are no other alternatives."
"But we currently lack enough transport starships to pick up the cargo from Lianna ourselves," the princess stated.
"And yet you have enough to provide for military supplies," Moff Victus countered.
"Our transports are engaged exclusively in economic logistics matters," the Republican replied.
"That's a different question," the Moff noted. "Three months ago, you were so short of ships for interstellar trade that you disarmed almost half your fleet. Now, no more than one or two thousand military ships are involved in transportation, and the rest are civilian freighters. One might ask, what does that have to do with the interception of Signus corporation convoys, the disappearance of a private convoy from Sullust, the captures of our transport fleet's starships, already numbering in the hundreds, some of which are bulk carriers?"
It was the disappearance of the latter that was the most sensitive loss for Lianna. Such starships cost enormous sums—hundreds of millions, if not billions. A single ship of this kind could carry hundreds of thousands of tons of cargo. And the loss of bulk carriers was a very significant blow to an equipment manufacturer.
Yes, new ones could be purchased—that wouldn't be a problem. But what guarantee was there that those ships wouldn't be hijacked as well?
A quick road to ruin.
"Is that an official accusation, Moff?" A threatening glint flickered in the Republican's eyes.
"Merely stating well-known facts," Victus avoided a diplomatic scandal with ease.
"What you load onto your ships is entirely your own business," Lady Santhe said pacifically, steering the conversation away from the danger of mutual threats, accusations, and insults. "But I will no longer risk my crews and starships by sending equipment to you. No single delivery justifies the cost of the transport carrying the cargo."
"We've discussed this already," the former princess reminded her. "The New Republic cannot afford to buy equipment from you and have it repaired at the sums stated in the revised contracts."
"In that case, you won't get it at all," Valles concluded the two-day negotiations. "That's it. I've said my piece, and it will remain unchanged until you either recall your raiders or provide your own ships."
"They are not our raiders," the Republican repeated stubbornly.
"Whatever you say," Santhe said indifferently.
"Thus, it appears your corporation is keeping over a thousand small TIE-type craft that were produced or repaired for the New Republic Defense Forces," Councilor Organa Solo returned to the beginning of her dialogue. "We demand the fulfillment of contractual obligations in strict accordance with the contract terms. Your unilateral initiative—effectively withdrawing from your obligations to manufacture and deliver products to the customer—is interpreted on Coruscant as nothing less than evasion of cooperation. This decision of yours may have far-reaching adverse consequences."
Victus almost yawned again.
Yes, this was where he had gotten bored last time.
"Councilor," Lady Santhe addressed the Republican in the same silky tone she used whenever she refused to tolerate a speaker's intellectual inadequacy or stubbornness. "All those fighters and interceptors were shipped according to the existing contracts. The fact that you allegedly did not receive them is of no significance to me. Your raiders captured the transports—therefore, the New Republic received what it paid for."
"I'm talking about the second batch of machines ordered over a month ago," the Alderaanian princess clarified. "The ones you refuse to deliver."
Lady Santhe sighed mournfully:
"Allow me to remind you once again—send your own transport ships and pick up the cargo. I don't need it; it's just taking up space in the warehouses..."
* * *
I once watched a cartoon with my family.
And one phrase stuck with me: "Quack, spit, and secure it with duct tape!"
That's roughly how you could describe the field repairs of captured starships in the Fardon system. There was a lot to fix, and it took a long time, often.
Spare parts for such a large number of ships were insufficient.
Places to house prisoners were insufficient.
The only thing we had plenty of were stormtroopers guarding the prisoners. Dejected, sullen, and surely aware that their actions had earned them a ticket to a labor resort in the fresh air on some planet in the Dominion. Well, labor ennobles. They say it turned an ape into a man. I hope the saying didn't have any notes about the reverse 'transformation.'
All the small ships—gunships, corvettes, captured fighters, and so on—were stashed in the hangars of the larger vessels.
The Guardian at this point looked more like a road train from my past life: from the outside, a serious 'machine,' but when you looked closer—good grief, it was a real clunker on top of a clunker.
Still, I didn't have much of a choice either.
Fardon was compromised, which meant all plans for this planet had to be shelved for the foreseeable future.
So the mobile bases with all their equipment moved back into the Super Star Destroyer's hold, and the stationary firing points went with them.
I assumed the enemy would return here. As a reconnaissance or raiding force, but they would definitely want to clarify why everything had happened in this particular system. And what I was doing here.
So, since the debris field allowed it, we were leaving 'surprises' for the enemy.
Scout droids, sabotage droids, buzz droids...
Chimaera in orbit of Soulex.
Everything we had on the starships—because supplies could be replenished at the base. But I didn't want to be kicking myself later for trying but failing because I'd been stingy with droids.
"Report," I demanded.
"Tangrene's Grid is currently loaded to seven cells," the shipwright said without much enthusiasm. Understandably. He'd obviously thought that after his appointment, he would be exclusively engaged in creating lead ships of series, delegating the routine work to other shipyards—we had five now. Four orbital workshops: one on Tangrene, one on Ciutric IV, two in orbit of Lok, and the shipyards of the planet Vostelstig in the system of the same name in the Oplovis sector. But since the two workshops in orbit of Lok were secret and half a galaxy away from us, Tangrene, as before, served as the fortress planet. Secret work on ships would be carried out there.
And on Ciutric and Vostelstig, there were excellent conditions for full-scale repairs of regular fleet ships. Well... and those trophies that didn't need to be hidden from the general public. For example, the Soulex trophies.
But discussing the workload of those shipyards should be done not with Zion, but with Moff Ferrus.
"Glad to hear that In Amber Clad is finally finished," I said, looking at the hologram of the shipwright Zion.
The man nodded, as if to say, I promised.
"Prepare your people for intense work in the coming months," I continued. "After the current operation, you'll have a lot of work. Also, additional specialists need to be brought in for the ongoing modernization of our ARC-170s. I need those fighters for long-range reconnaissance. And I need them urgently."
"Understood, Grand Admiral," the man said, not particularly pleased with the new assignment. "In principle... I and my people have never shirked our obligations. We have a significant number of already prepared craft—about five squadrons."
That was sufficient, considering that each squadron would be based on different ships of the fleet, not all of them.
Since we lacked standard TIE scouts, we would use what we had. Especially since, after deep modernization, ARC-170s turned into quite combat-effective reconnaissance and combat units.
Well, when you don't have the official stamp paper, you write on newsprint. Besides, it's better quality anyway. And we didn't have to store it on the hangar deck—there was a sub-deck compartment for civilian transport.
"Now let's move on to the details," I said. "By the time the fleet returns, I will need the facilities of Project Asteroid-II."
Zion, if surprised, didn't show it.
And I hope he understood that I really need ALL the asteroids from that project. However, even if he doesn't have them ready by the time the fleet arrives, we still have time to get everything done before departure.
"As you wish, Grand Admiral," Zion replied. Traces of displeasure still appeared on his face.
"Furthermore," I continued, "production of Project Asteroid-I facilities should be increased."
The pupil of the shipwright's single real eye narrowed remarkably.
"In that case, I will need more budget allocations to purchase additional equipment," he warned.
"Moff Ferrus will return to Tangrene shortly," I told him. "He'll resolve all your problems."
"Understood, Grand Admiral," the shipwright confirmed his comprehension of the order. But apparently it wasn't to his liking, because the displeased expression didn't even try to leave his face.
Still, who cares about the fact that this man is currently absorbed in solving other assigned tasks?
He wanted to get a shipyard under his control, didn't he?
He wanted one.
Did he get it?
He got it.
What's there to be displeased about?
Right — nothing.
"I take it the work on refitting the remaining ships of Project Sunburn is proceeding according to plan?" I clarified.
"All starships of that project are ready," the shipwright said with undisguised pride. "At the moment, the shipyard is occupied with work on Victory-class, Acclamator, Avenger-class ships…"
"Glad to hear it." No, honestly glad. We have a considerable number of starships that need modernization for the tasks that will be assigned to them soon. "That will be all, shipwright. Begin resolving the tasks set before you."
"Yes, sir," the man said without much enthusiasm before his hologram faded into the air.
Naturally, the damaged fleet wouldn't go to Tangrene. At least — not all of it. Only the Guardian and the Nemesis. Because the preservation of these ships should be hidden from the general public — at least until repair work on them is completed. And Tangrene is that very shipyard where ships can both be hidden and repaired.
And defended in case of an assault attempt.
Of course, I could have taken advantage of the situation and sent the Guardian to the Karthakk system. After all, it's effectively protected, difficult to access, and significant fleet forces are concentrated there, including several Acclamators with cloning facilities on board. And under the guise of "training" new recruits, they endlessly copy the best specialists of my fleet to crew the modernized dreadnoughts. Not to mention the pilots for the X-wings stationed on the captured MC80s.
But sound logic argues against this idea.
So, the New Republic, though not immediately, will learn that I have a Super Star Destroyer.
Devian's pilots, during their flight, could have reported this to their warlord — unfortunately, we don't know if modern long-range communications stations were installed aboard those ships, as we discovered on the captured ARC-170s.
Unfortunately, the calculation for "releasing" even these ships from the trap was based on Devian not modernizing his vessels — after all, the fighter-bombers we obtained from base RZ7-6118-23 didn't have such equipment. The Empire "cannibalized" decommissioned or mothballed equipment for modern systems.
Consequently, first two, then more, of my enemies will learn about the Guardian. I already assumed that attempts to send spies would intensify — which is why I ordered the acceleration of work on modernizing our ARC-170s. During the Clone Wars, they were also used as long-range scouts. Therefore, they can patrol the vast territories of the Dominion and detect "illegals."
So, regarding the negative consequences of moving the Guardian to the Lok shipyards.
First — too long a journey for a heavily damaged ship. Even the repairs performed and the restored hyperdrive — both primary and backup — are not a panacea nor grounds for sending the ship on such a long voyage.
And even more so — to allocate a fleet as escort forces. I'll need the ships in the current reality as well.
Fun fact. As long as I separated myself from the persona of Grand Admiral Thrawn, I haven't suffered any defeats. Not that I see any pattern in that, but still.
Moreover, against moving the ship to the Karthakk system.
Lok's industrial base is rich in resources but insufficient for the ship's rapid restoration. And it's not as heavily fortified as Tangrene.
Not to mention that the Guardian will be sought by those enemies of mine who now know about it. And, given the constant supply shipments and endless transport convoys, it wouldn't be surprising if the secret base in the heart of the New Republic and its allied sectors were exposed. Much the same way we discovered the Guardian itself.
And that's not just a failure and the loss of the Super Star Destroyer itself, but a strategic defeat that is irreparable — the loss of a resource and secret military base, the loss of a source for recruiting the Mere people for auxiliary ships, a threat to part of the fleet with cloning cylinders aboard each such Acclamator.
Not to mention that, by covering Karthakk, the enemy would also deprive us of the raider base operating under the flags of the "New Republic" and creating the confusion I need.
In other words, the fall of Karthakk would be a reason to shut down all raider activity outside the Dominion altogether.
Therefore, the Guardian flies to Tangrene. There it can be easily protected, and secrecy can be arranged quite readily.
As of now, there are seven ships in the "grid" of the orbital shipyard — Republic and Ubiqtorate Star Destroyers for which we have no trained or cloned crews.
But with the arrival of the Guardian's crew, we can easily solve this problem, especially considering that the same Ubiqtorate destroyers weren't damaged too badly and have already been repaired.
Yes, they aren't "triples," but better than nothing.
Yes, the Guardian's crew hasn't been in a full-scale battle for a long time, and their participation in the last battle can be considered nominal.
Well, I'm not planning to send them to the front line either. Let them "practice on cats" for now — that is, in patrol and punitive operations against pirates in the Sprizen sector — it'll be additional support for the Red Star squadron. Shohashi isn't the type to refuse free help.
The other two "cells" of Tangrene's ORY-II will soon be filled with the new aforementioned "clients," the Guardian, and the Nemesis.
The remaining Imperial-design ships don't have extensive damage, so the workers at the first-type orbital repair facility hanging in orbit of Ciutric IV can handle the work. But we'll send the Republic trophies to Vostelstig… And the small ships… they can be repaired easily in space, or docked to the outer side of the orbital "grid."
Project Asteroid-I wasn't created for beauty. It's a defensive-offensive perimeter that also served as a testing ground for Project Asteroid-II. And that one, in turn, was mass-produced at the Tangrene shipyards, and for diversion, at Yaga Minor.
Well, its time of use is coming.
All that remains is to use the buzz droids on the Home One to achieve the necessary result.
The very one that will neutralize any attempts by the New Republic to use Admiral Ackbar's achievements to replicate victory. Because in fact, they won't be able to spread the word about strategic victories in terms of exposing some of my strategies.
Not about the ambush tactics, nor the use of the Dragon, and certainly not about the existence of the Guardian.
No, that will be classified information "strictly for internal use."
But the "destruction" of the Nemesis… Yes, here they will certainly try their best. I can even roughly imagine their news pool dedicated to this. Well, so be it.
In my time, I was accustomed to victories and inspired by them.
Enjoy yours too.
But it won't last long. And the reaction following this "news"… Oh, it will be extremely interesting.
"Grand Admiral, sir," the comlink came alive with Lieutenant Tschel's voice. "The fleet is ready to exceed the speed of light. Hyperdrives are operational and tested. The damaged corvette and gunship-class starships are housed inside the Star Destroyers. All starships have reported their systems operational. Awaiting your orders, sir."
Thrawn's fleet before the jump.
"Ensure that the commanders of the undamaged formations have received their individual order packages," I ordered.
"Confirmed, sir," Tschel responded. "Captain Pellaeon also asked to convey that the Guardian is fine, but he would like to return to the Chimera."
"Did he say that?" I inquired.
"A direct quote, Grand Admiral," Tschel confirmed.
"Understood. Fleet — jump to targets."
And we left Soulex.
* * *
After the negotiation hall once again became the location of only two sentients associated with the Santhe conglomerate, the bearer of that surname stood by the huge panoramic window, gazing at the tidy buildings of Lianna bathed in soft natural light.
"What do you think?" she asked, without even glancing toward Victus.
"It's a bad business," the moff admitted frankly. "The New Republic has been taking blow after blow recently. They're losing ships — in battles or handing them over to Thrawn in exchange for their prisoners of war. The difference is negligible. They don't have much money — remember, they barely made the first purchase in almost a dozen installments, and that sum was meager. The second… well, it was a little better. But the fact remains — they're taking losses. Colossal ones. They don't approach Incom for one simple reason — they have nothing to pay them with. So they're looking for places to get starfighters wherever possible. The raiders helped them capture TIE-series equipment once; now they want either compensation for our breach of contract or new batches of equipment. A pure adventure. Which, incidentally, is in their style, if you recall that the heroes of the Rebel Alliance are thieves, smugglers, fugitive criminals, financial fraudsters… and so on down the list."
"Princess Leia's appearance here looks like a final warning," Lady Santhe said thoughtfully.
"They've essentially given us an ultimatum," Victus confirmed. "Either we continue making equipment for them, which they'll covertly take for themselves, or else… Of course, she didn't say it, but the hint of 'unfavorable consequences' is more than readable. If they don't get what they want through their schemes, they'll take it by force."
"Is that so?" The phrase was supposed to sound like a sarcastic joke, but from Valles's lips it was uttered as a threat. "I hadn't noticed. I need to know if we can fight back in case of an attack."
"We have the full power of the corporation in our hands," Joshua reminded her. And first of all, he meant the bank accounts of that huge conglomerate headed by Lady Santhe. "We'll fight back."
"Ourselves?" This time the head of the corporation honored him with a prolonged look.
"No," the moff didn't mince words. "Ever since you switched to this new production…"
"It is not up for discussion," the woman declared. "The corporation is making enormous money from these developments. Which is exactly what we need, given the financial and property losses from the New Republic's raids."
"I don't trust those warlords who have entrenched themselves in the Deep Core," Victus admitted. "Too vague promises, unclear orders…"
"The commercial aspect of the contracts is none of your concern," Santhe cut him off. "We need money — we're getting it. The client needs those types of machines — they'll get them. I need your assessment of our defenses, and nothing more."
Joshua took a deep breath.
"Let's think logically," he proposed. "The combined power of the corporation can withstand a strike from a well-equipped and fully-staffed Republic fleet squadron. In principle, our defensive lines are strong enough. But, as I warned — if they take us seriously, we won't last a day. And judging by the fact that the New Republic is rebuilding the Lusankya on the slips at Rendili StarDrive — they are clearly serious. We can't stand against a Super Star Destroyer. You can threaten Moff Gronn with destruction as much as you want if he encroaches on Lianna's independence, but that won't work on those who represent something more significant than an empty space."
Gronn was an Imperial moff controlling a sector called the Allied Tion.
Until some point, specifically until the Battle of Endor, Lianna was part of that sector. But after the Emperor's death, in the ensuing chaos and disorder, Lianna declared its independence.
Moff Gronn, having become a warlord, knew that the shortage of line TIE fighters in the armed forces under his command would put him in a dangerous position, as he lacked ships and supplies.
Lady Santhe offered Gronn a compromise — she agreed to continue supplying the Allied Tion with fighters, and in return, Imperial non-interference in Lianna's affairs was ensured. Gronn didn't want to accept such terms for a long time, but reluctantly agreed, and a special charter of separation was adopted.
Valles also secured Gronn's cooperation by paying him a considerable sum in auridium, effectively buying him off and preventing any invasions of Lianna. Since then, Gronn received equipment practically for free, and in case of any confrontation, he was obliged to defend Lianna with his entire fleet. And even though he doesn't have that many ships — not even a hundred, and only a few Star Destroyers — with the support of that fleet and all the military forces at her disposal, Lady Santhe could secure victory in any local conflict.
The problem was that, first and foremost, the agreement implied confrontation with two other states within the Tion Cluster supersector — the Tion Hegemony and the Cron Cluster, which at present were also independent entities.
The Tion Cluster supersector (and all three sectors within it).
Until recently, Lady Santhe ensured protection from the New Republic through cooperation with Coruscant, but now that agreement has developed a very tangible crack.
And Victus was certain that Gronn, who was a cowardly sycophant by nature, wouldn't come to help — he'd simply be afraid. The Tion Hegemony and the Cron Cluster would also ignore requests for assistance: they've long been eyeing joining the New Republic themselves. So they're not much of allies — with such allies, you don't need enemies.
"I'm not going to sit idly by waiting to be conquered either," the woman warned. "We need to know for sure whether the Republicans intend to launch a campaign against us. If so, with what forces they plan to attack."
"That's not so easy to do, you know," Moff Victus remarked. "I'd rather seek help from Thrawn. At least he's proven he knows how to beat the Republicans, and is always a step, sometimes two, ahead of Coruscant."
"I don't want anything to do with him," Valles declared. "And especially — I am not about to hand over the orbital assembly workshops to him — that's exactly what the entire production of the new order from the Deep Core relies on."
"Then why not ask the client of the new project for protection?" the moff inquired. "They protect their own investments, so it's in their interest."
"Their involvement is not up for discussion," Santhe cut off. "We need to solve the problem with our own resources."
And what's the point of such clients? Payment — only after the entire order is completed, which at best will be ready in the first months of next year. And on top of that, they can't even provide protection.
Strange this is, very strange…
Either Santhe has decided to play secrets with her manager, who also happens to be the person responsible for Lianna's defense, or she's starting to lose her edge.
Which means the time when another round of behind-the-scenes games for the head of the conglomerate begins in the Santhe family is not far off. And that war is worse than one where turbolasers sound.
"Then I suggest we organize the hiring of criminal scum," Victus continued listing options.
Santhe pondered that option for a while.
"Acceptable enough," she pronounced. "However, are there mercenary bands with a fleet capable of opposing the New Republic?"
"That could be a problem," Victus agreed. "Krennel spent considerable resources to lure a huge number of mercenaries into the Ciutric Hegemony. It ended with Thrawn either destroying most of them or scattering them. They say even the Cavrilhu pirates got it badly, and they were thugs for all occasions."
"Start moving," she said, even if her tone was calm, in reality, it meant an order he simply couldn't disobey. "Find out everything you know about the New Republic's plans. Test the waters with the mercenaries and notify Moff Gronn that we may need his ships."
"Valles," knowing the answer would be negative regardless, Joshua couldn't help but try. One last time. "Let's give him just this one assembly workshop, huh? Summon Thrawn, he'll solve the problem. I'm sure the clients will understand that it's better to get the product late than to lose it altogether. If we fall, personal motives won't matter anymore. If the Republic sets its sights on subjugating Lianna because they vitally need their own starfighter production, not corporate purchases, then nothing but a large fleet of Star Destroyers will save us. You turned down Kaine and the Imperial Ruling Council yourself, so only…"
"No Thrawn," Santhe said sharply. "We got this new order only because I promised — the Grand Admiral won't get a single rivet from me. Whatever he did to those snobs in the Deep Core, I don't want to know. And I'm not about to incur their wrath either. Solve the problem — Lianna must be defended from the threat."
"How?" Joshua began to get irritated. "Am I supposed to spawn these Star Destroyers? Or will someone rent them out?"
The moff, who had spent considerable time in the service of the Empire, began to regret falling for Lady Santhe's promises and deserting to take command of Lianna's armed forces.
And now this capricious woman is pushing him toward "Do the impossible." Well sure, maybe he should lead the attack himself?
First, spend years planning Lianna's defense, preparing the corporate army, and now what? Now it turns out his advice to acquire their own fleet of Star Destroyers wasn't superfluous.
But no, corporate giants know better themselves!
Spending billions on the promises of a third-rate moff who can barely handle even the Allied Tion (well, not without reason did Thrawn, Kaine, and even the Imperial Ruling Council ignore this Remnant) — that's perfectly normal.
But spending those same billions to buy two dozen Victory-class Star Destroyers in the Corporate Sector — that's "expensive, excessive, and besides, we have enough of our own and allied forces."
Look, right now he could be ruling his own sector, a minor warlord, without any problems…
Why, Thrawn managed to build a state from scratch with just a few destroyers, bleeding the New Republic like a butcher at an abattoir…
Funny comparison.
After all, blood is let before the final carving of the carcass.
* * *
After hearing the report, I pondered for a few seconds.
"Will the B'omarr monastic order actually go through with transplanting a brain back into a body?" I clarified.
"The order is not monolithic and is represented by several factions," Agent Inek explained. Or "Bravo-One," as the operational aliases of the Dominion Intelligence field specialists now go. "Among them are many who, for money, are willing to fulfill a client's wishes."
"Perhaps," I agreed. "But we agreed on something else, Captain."
"I know, sir," not a single muscle twitched on the hologram's face. "However, Shira is smart enough to realize that there are no technologies for transferring consciousness into a cloned body. I understand that I exceeded the bounds of the assigned task, but I had to act immediately. I didn't have time for consultations — she might have suspected something."
"On the other hand," I continued, "it costs us nothing to use the girl's desire to move into a new body to clone her and make her think she underwent the operation."
"That will depend solely on the actions of the monks," Torin Inek said. "As far as I know, they perform the operation on a living body…"
A casual moment.
On one hand, Torin exceeded the bounds of his assigned task, which implies a certain set of expenditures — in case he actually negotiates with the monks for a brain transplant.
On the other hand, a world of remarkable possibilities opens before us… Transplanting a brain from a fading body into a new one, even if cloned, even if subject to aging…
But this is effectively life extension.
And at the same time — saving sentients significant to the Dominion from death or the fate of being trapped in a crippled body.
For example, Major General Veers would be extremely interested in the success of this project.
Actually, he wouldn't be the only one…
"Proceed, Agent," I ordered. "Find me those B'omarr who will perform this procedure."
"Yes, sir."
"But first — conduct a mental copy of the girl's consciousness and obtain samples for cloning," I continued. "The girl will serve our purposes. One way or another."
"It will be done, Grand Admiral. Permission to supplement the information?"
"Is your report incomplete?" I asked in surprise.
"I have certain assumptions, sir," the agent explained. "Such things are not included in a report."
Yes, that was the casuistry of Imperial bureaucracy. Only facts were reported. Assumptions — either in a private conversation with a superior (and you guess how they'll take your conjectures), or you keep them to yourself.
How much of the Imperial legacy would we have to rework...
"I'm listening, Agent."
"Aside from the girl agreeing to the stated terms, she is demanding the elimination of her brother 'as an advance,'" Bravo-One said. "I assume she and her brother had extremely negative interactions. However, her behavior and demands are far too uncharacteristic for the situation. In my opinion, a girl who is offered the return of her full existence would not behave so provocatively and ambiguously."
"A perfectly logical desire from someone who suffered his beatings and humiliation for a long time and now has a chance to settle the score," I nodded. "But on the other hand, it looks like the elimination of the second of two sentients who know the location of Sa'Nalaor."
"I had the same assumption, sir," Torin replied. "I request your permission to subject her brother, Reom, to a mind-copying procedure and collect samples for cloning."
An extremely logical decision.
Insurance in case the girl decided to raise the stakes right in the middle of the deal.
So, we had three possible scenarios.
First — continue as started. That is, allow the girl to eliminate her brother, remaining the sole carrier of information with the coordinates of the legendary frigate's crash. If the agreements were honored, we would gain a loyal employee, a specialist in cybernetic prosthetics, the ship's location coordinates, and we could also use her for negotiations with the survivors. Because aboard Sa'Nalaor, besides mythical riches, there were also first-class prosthetics technologies. Which could be seized by brute force (no guarantee the information would be complete), or we could use the girl's loyalty as a bargaining chip for successful negotiations with the survivors. Who might also serve the Dominion's cause.
I happened to have a couple of projects that could be realized with specialists of this level, like the commander of Sa'Nalaor's friend, a very talented engineer and prostheticist.
Now, what would happen if the girl actually intended to take care of her comrades and conceal their location?
Reom would be eliminated, and the only one who truly knew the crash site would be Shira. At the same time, she could manipulate this knowledge in the future to gain certain advantages. Yes, how the situation would actually play out was still unknown, but at the same time, the general outline was there.
Second option — we copy her consciousness, 'sift' through it, and obtain the coordinates. If she knew them, of course.
Third option — we do the same with Reom.
In that case, the disabled girl was essentially unnecessary.
Now, let's look at the situation from a pragmatic point of view.
What Shira intended to do was not reliably known.
That's one.
Two.
We could copy her and her brother in advance and obtain the location of Sa'Nalaor ahead of time. Again — if they knew it. But Reom had intended to go somewhere on his destroyer, hadn't he? The crew didn't know where; there was no such data in the navigation computer... So, if it existed, it was only in Reom's head.
Three.
The disabled girl was essentially a visual aid, a 'volunteer' for testing the brain transplant procedure, which had interested me for its pragmatism. Yes, we could clone her (or anyone else) and perform the operation on the clone.
But again, there were criteria for conducting the experiment.
The operation 'brain transferred from clone body to clone body' interested me very little at the moment.
But 'brain transferred from original body to clone body' yes.
Searching for someone among the doomed sentients loyal to me for such a procedure would take a long time. But that didn't mean the experiment should be conducted in a single instance. There was such a thing as statistics.
If nine out of ten brain transfer operations from an original body to a cloned one were successful — that was a pattern. If only one out of ten — that was a fluke.
I needed a pattern. I wasn't going to risk valuable personnel.
Especially since, if the procedure were consistently successful, it would allow us to practically offer it to significant sentients in the Dominion who could no longer continue existing in their current bodies.
And the brainless bodies of the 'original' sentients could be frozen and later used as a DNA source for subsequent cloning processes.
But again — that was no more than an ordinary person's view, unfamiliar with the subtleties of genetics across various races of the universe, the achievements of biology, medicine, and other sciences.
My job was war, the Dominion's foreign policy, setting objectives — not studying every discipline I might encounter.
"Abyssal Fury is holding course for Ciutric IV," I said. Hmm... I should establish bases in the sectors and a fleet headquarters to divert even the hypothetical danger of military and political interests intersecting away from the political capital. And it wasn't fitting for the capital to be an industrial center to the extent it currently was. The example of Coruscant's 'fouling' didn't need repeating. It would be enough to keep light industry and some food production on the planet. Taking care of the capital world's ecology was never too late. "By the time I arrive, the equipment for performing all necessary procedures will already be in the system." It would be enough to contact one of the Acclamators that housed the Spaarti cloning cylinders. All starships of this project were, in any case, not far from the metropolis. "Clone and copy both of them. They must not know about it, of course."
"Yes, sir."
"Continue the operation regarding Shira as if we trust her," I continued. "Find out her motivation — I think after her brother's death, she'll become more forthcoming. It goes without saying that the brother must be cloned and copied before you fulfill the girl's wish."
"It will be done, Grand Admiral," Inek confirmed.
After his hologram faded, I spent some time studying the incoming data from various units, including those from Mr. Ghent's clones.
Well, that was encouraging information.
Things could be made even better than I had originally planned.
Good thing no one except Tierce had seen my emotional outburst. The guardsman was used to his masters' quirks, so no danger was to be expected from him.
But I should continue to keep myself in check even more rigidly. Mitth'raw'nuruodo had never lost control over his emotions, even after more significant defeats.
Yes, the operation hadn't achieved all its planned goals.
Yes, Ackbar had uncovered some of my tactics and could relay that information to his command.
One more reason to spend more time planning upcoming operations.
In the end, our confrontation wasn't a personal vendetta.
Everyone was just doing their job. He had prepared his 'homework' well. For me, it would be an extra lesson in caution.
On the other hand, this incident with the broken hands could be used to continue the 'humanization policy.' Because I couldn't pretend to be Thrawn all the time.
What worried me even more was that my personality's development was proceeding exactly as the Snow Queen had 'predicted.'
Speaking of her...
There were a couple of questions I would ask her in person.
I was even looking forward to that meeting.
Well, for now...
It seemed I had members of the Jensaarai Order aboard my ship with no clear tasks. Time to fix that oversight.
So, what publicly useful activity could I assign them?