Nine years, nine months, and thirty-one days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, nine months, and thirty-one days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and seventeen days since the Arrival.)
"... after that, I knocked out Vex..." the firm voice of a confident man was what brought Rederick out of his stupor.
The agent opened his eyes, suppressing a groan caused by a severe headache.
Biting the inside of his cheek, he let the new source of pain drown out the original one. A trick as old as the world, but effective.
Without opening his eyes, the man listened to the sounds.
A dialogue.
Two people.
A man, whose intonations were familiar to him, but very, very vaguely.
The second, judging by the accent, was a foreigner. But with good, clear speech.
That happens when you work for those who despise the accents of non-humans. For example, Imperials.
Oh, how familiar this all is…
"And you couldn't think of anything better than to drag him here?" inquired this second person.
"You think it would have been right to leave the kid to be torn apart by Vex?" the man asked with a chuckle. Why are those intonations so familiar?
Rederick opened his eyes just enough to get some idea of where he was. So far, all he'd figured out was that he was lying on something cold but not metallic, there was a slight echo around him, and it smelled like laser soldering mixed with burnt wood. With that combination of clues, identifying his location wasn't working out very well.
"He's Imperial!" the alien protested. "She wouldn't have done anything to him!"
The answer was a muffled laugh from the man.
"That's debatable," he replied through chuckles. "Vex... is quite inventive with those she's set her sights on..."
A heavy sigh from the alien.
"Humans are insufferable creatures, but you, you..."
"I surpassed all of them combined?" the man asked, still chuckling.
"Exactly!" the alien didn't notice the prodding. "How many times have I told you that attitude toward women won't lead to anything good!"
"You might as well forbid me from contacting them."
"That wouldn't be a bad idea!"
"Too late, Alessi. I've been in this game too long."
"It's time to settle down," the non-human said didactically. "The fact that Vex became Stark's head of security is a very big hint from fate."
"And what exactly is fate hinting at, my friend?"
"That it's no coincidence your two love interests have joined forces! Jahan, do you have any idea what will happen if all your women decide to unite against you?"
"Which is precisely why the first commandment of a special agent's office romance is: 'Don't fall for more than one beauty on a mission,'" the man Rederick had been searching for replied sententiously. No doubt about it.
"Alessi" that was Alessi Quon, the engineer who worked with Jahan Cross's equipment.
And "Jahan" that was the very agent Rederick was looking for.
"And among the commandments for special agents, is there one that tells Jahan Cross that excessive amorousness toward the opposite sex leads to a situation where one of your lovers produces combat droids, and another guards her? And it's better not to run into either of them…"
"Where did you get that idea?" the agent asked in surprise.
"As if you just randomly vanished from the bar when you spotted Vex among the patrons," the Sluissi mimicked his comrade. "I never got the data from the directional microphone!"
"The moment required stealth," Cross noted coldly.
"Or maybe you just started to worry that Vex would beat you for how you treated her the last time you parted? And the time before that? And the time before that…"
"Stop droning on, Alessi," the agent asked his friend. "Better tell me how long our guest is going to pretend to be asleep?"
Rederick's throat tightened.
"I don't know," the Sluissi's voice made it clear he was shrugging in a very human way. "Maybe he doesn't know we have a life-sign monitor reader aimed at him, and we've known he was faking for a while?"
"The caliber of recruits in Imperial Intelligence is dropping," Cross said ruefully. "They're hiring thugs now... This one's lucky Vex liked him, or she'd have gutted him in two moves."
"Alright, that's enough!" Rederick couldn't take it anymore, snapping his eyes open.
The darkness made it impossible to see more than a meter ahead, but the officer knew for certain he wasn't alone in the cave. And as his eyes started adjusting, he realized he was lying against a stone wall, and the speakers were sitting behind him.
But the cave's acoustics made it seem the opposite.
He tried to spread his arms, but immediately got a pretty strong electric shock.
"Damn you all!" he cursed.
"Grunt," Alessi said with a sigh.
Alessi Quon.
Rederick twisted around to face the speakers.
Just in time to see the Sluissi hand a couple of coins to Cross, who was sitting by a small fire.
Both looked completely average, typical representatives of their species. If Rederick hadn't received their personnel files from command, he could have passed them on the street and not even remembered them.
Alex Cross.
"Pleasure doing business with you," the gray-haired Cross smiled, pocketing the coins.
He looked average in every way.
Average appearance, average build, average clothing. A typical member of human society.
Only his hair was white as chalk, indicating he was no longer young.
"Were you betting on me?" Rederick grimaced, helping himself sit up with his bound hands and feet.
"Had to kill time somehow," Cross stirred the coals in the fire with a stick, the fire surrounded by medium-sized stones. "While you were lying around taking it easy."
"You could have saved time and started the conversation as soon as you noticed I was awake," Rederick hissed.
What was the point of trying to deny what was happening?
Cross was a top-level agent. With colossal experience. And Rederick... well, let's say he was at the beginning of his path. Recognizing his Imperial training wasn't hard. So trying to have a conversation with an experienced spy in the style of 'Sorry, sentient, you've mistaken me, I'm just a vending machine vendor' would only undermine his own authority while trying to diminish his interlocutor's. And that would instantly put Rederick in a secondary role, losing the positive-neutral attitude from the speakers. Which, in turn, meant…
"Could you not reflect your thought process so obviously on your face?" Cross asked him. "I understand that calculating verbal contact while captive is basic intelligence work, but... who taught you, boy?"
This was prodding to loosen the tongue of a less experienced operative.
"Working from the same manual?" Rederick smiled.
The Sluissi sitting to the Dominion agent's left laughed so hard he nearly fell onto his back.
"Don't mind him," Jahan said with a kind smile. "For the last five years or so, the level of Imperial Intelligence has only been amusing him."
"Is that so," Rederick nodded, pretending to understand. "And you?"
"It saddens me," the gray-haired man grew gloomy. "It's obvious that a civil war isn't good for anyone, but to this extent..."
"You can always come back and give a master class," Rederick cast a line.
"Oh, thanks," Cross snorted. "I'm not interested in getting dirty for dry crumbs from the table. By the way, we haven't been properly introduced. My name is Cross. Jahan Cross."
"Bravo-Three," Rederick gave his personal number. And instantly, sadness appeared in the spy's eyes.
"That's impolite," Alessi Quon explained after his laughter subsided. "When a spy gives his real name to another agent, he's showing a certain amount of trust. That's not done with enemies. And your personal number is the kind of thing fleet special forces use. Go there, blow something up, stab in the back... That's not how you start a trusting conversation."
"Well, since we're talking about trust, allow me to ask something. Doesn't it bother you that I'm in shock cuffs?" Rederick clarified, raising the device binding his wrists above his head.
"Us?" Alessi was surprised. "No."
"And what about trust?" Rederick inquired.
The Sluissi opened his mouth to say something, then sighed resignedly, reached into his pocket, pulled out another couple of coins, and flicked them to the now-smiling Cross.
"You were betting on that too?" Rederick rolled his eyes.
This was all strange.
He was essentially a prisoner.
Two Imperial deserters were holding him in cuffs.
And yet, they were having a conversation as if they'd known each other for years and years.
A warm, friendly atmosphere, damn it!
"I told you he's sharper than he looks," Jahan smiled, pocketing the coins.
"Could we have this conversation as if I'm actually present here?" Rederick asked.
The Sluissi, meanwhile, shook his head.
"No mental stability at all," he stated. "Falls for the slightest provocations."
"Youth," Cross stated with a smirk.
Rederick shook his head with a sigh of relief.
"Maybe we can talk business?" he suggested.
"That's the idea," the spy declared. "Let's start with you — what did you need at 'Rossum'?"
No point lying — this pair held all the cards. This game of sabbacc had to be played with a bad hand.
"I was looking for ways to approach Ellie Stark," Rederick replied, knowing the deserters probably understood that. "And what were you doing, pretending to be a bartender?"
He finally realized why Jahan Cross's intonations seemed familiar. He'd talked to this guy before meeting that woman. What was her name? Vex?
"Ellie signed a profitable contract," Cross stated without preamble. "Supplying B-2 combat droids to the Corporate Sector Authority. But the end buyer is completely different."
Interesting information.
"And who is that?" Rederick asked.
"The answer to that question depends on information about your employer," the former Imperial spy said, narrowing his eyes. "Which Remnant are you working for, boy?"
One of the mission's goals was to recruit Cross into the Grand Admiral's service. And he needed to be open for the recruitment to go smoothly. But it was too early to show his cards.
"Your employer interests me as well," Rederick stated. "It's quite possible we're on different sides."
"I doubt it," Cross said. "I operate entirely on my own initiative. I'm not loyal to any government."
A freelance spy? Something new.
They hadn't taught that at the academy, and Rederick had never encountered anything like it during his service.
On the other hand, Jahan could be misleading him, taking advantage of his colleague's inexperience.
But there was no way to verify that.
"In that case, you have nothing to fear from me," the intelligence officer declared, extending his hands forward. "I'd appreciate it if these cuffs were removed."
The Sluissi exchanged a glance with the human. The spy's gray head nodded affirmatively.
Muttering something in his native language, Alessi freed his prisoner.
Rederick rubbed his wrists, letting the blood flow return to his hands. The tingling in his legs also subsided.
"I work for the Dominion," he admitted.
"Hm," Quon grunted. "And what does Grand Admiral Thrawn want from sweet little Stark?"
"Nothing at all from her," Rederick said in a calm tone. "My task involves finding you."
"Thrawn wants to bring us back into service?" Cross clarified. "And Ellie is just a point of interest?"
The Dominion agent nodded silently.
"One of them," Rederick clarified. "The girl is of no particular interest to us…"
"Then you're not in the know," Cross concluded.
"About what exactly?" Rederick inquired.
"Cross!" the Sluissi hissed a warning at his friend, but the human ignored him.
"Ellie has started producing combat droids, but the end recipient of that cargo isn't just the Corporate Sector Authority," Jahan grew serious. "The 'Corporates' will get their share, but a small one. The bulk of the order — billions of war machines — will supposedly be sent to remote warehouses. From there, the 'Zann Consortium' will receive them."
Well, damn…
"What do they need that for?" Rederick asked.
"What does a criminal organization that wants to turn the galaxy upside down and rule it need an army of droids for?" Alessi clarified. "Oh, I don't know, maybe they don't have enough mannequins to hang clothes on."
"Stop clowning," Cross advised. "The 'Consortium's' policy after their defeat became much harsher. They invisibly control a number of planets, but as far as I've heard, Thrawn declared war on them, destroying several groups. And if the rumors are true, the Dominion visited the 'Consortium's' key industrial planets and gave them a good thrashing. So they've activated their reserves — agents in the Corporate Sector."
"Wait, wait, wait," Rederick frowned. "The Corporate Sector is cooperating with the 'Zann Consortium'?"
Cross exchanged an appraising glance with Quon, then coughed diplomatically into his fist.
"The 'Consortium' has essentially existed on 'Corporate' money from the start," he explained. "When Tyber Zann got a proper thrashing, he just disappeared from all scanners. Vanished like a ghost. His organization began to fall apart, and the Hutts, Pykes, and some other groups absorbed the pieces. I believe Zann is hiding somewhere here, in the Corporate Sector. And he'll use it as his base to attack other worlds. But no matter how much Alessi and I have traveled around the sector's planets, there's no sign of new ships being built or an army being trained. That's pretty strange, considering that the 'Consortium's' 'vultures' were practically openly stealing Imperial military equipment."
"They're building a fleet," Rederick nodded in agreement.
"And the droids will give them cheap assault forces," Cross developed the thought.
"Of course, but why fight this alone when you could easily pass the information to any of the Remnants?" the Dominion agent inquired.
"There are two very important points," Alessi stated. "First — none of the Imperial Remnant governments can be trusted. They're either fanatics or two-faced bastards like Kaine, whose words don't match his deeds. And the minor factions aren't even worth mentioning."
"Grand Admiral Thrawn is a man of honor!" Rederick stated firmly.
"He's not a man, for one thing," Cross corrected. "Second — your boss has been very cleverly covering his tracks for the last year and a half. And after he founded the Dominion… Let's just say it takes a certain amount of time to assess his initiatives and motives. So for now, we've held back and observed."
"Didn't you even consider the New Republic as a potential employer or recipient of information about the 'Zann Consortium'?" Rederick clarified.
"The democrats?" Alessi grinned. "No, those are the most dangerous ones. There are so many 'Consortium' agents in their government that it's easier to name those in the Imperial Palace who don't serve Zann."
"You were just observing, but you decided to intervene," Rederick stated. "Something happened?"
"Your logic is sound," Cross agreed. "As long as the 'Corporates' were supplying Zann with money, it didn't really concern me. But when the corrupt 'Corporates' handed the order to 'Rossum' instead of a large droid factory in the sector, that was the signal that Zann wanted something from Ellie. Possibly related to the project of her late father, Iaco Stark."
"Whom you killed," Rederick reminded.
"He wasn't her real father anyway," Jahan shrugged.
It sounded like an argument.
"The reason for Iaco Stark's death was that he tried to arrange a galaxy-wide droid reprogramming," Quon explained.
"Anyway, Ellie and I parted… not on the best of terms," Jahan said with a meaningful pause.
"Oh yes, you turned the girl's head, pushed her into Imperial Intelligence, and then disappeared," the Sluissi snorted. "Typical Jahan."
"Now I understand why, despite using a disguise, you fled when her head of security showed up at the bar," Rederick nodded knowingly. "The offended lady might have added your face to the list of people security was supposed to deal with without asking questions…"
Jahan coughed into his fist.
"Something like that," and again that meaningful tone.
"It's not that simple, is it?" Rederick asked, recalling the overheard conversation between this pair.
"Something like that," Jahan said.
"Vex is another of his old girlfriends," Alessi said irritably, giving his comrade a dirty look. "Spy, killer, saboteur. And without any moral constraints."
"Well, I already figured that out," the Dominion agent said awkwardly.
Jahan smirked.
"Take my word for it, that was just a warm-up," he assured his interlocutor. "If Aveka really wanted to get rid of you, you wouldn't have been able to oppose her."
Rederick let the jab slide.
"In that case, I have a question," he said. "What do you need me for?"
"I felt sorry just handing you over to Vex," Jahan admitted. "She… Aveka Dunn, also known as 'Vex', can be unruly in her desires. And your stiffness and tension gave you away as someone with Imperial training. Vex always had a real beastly instinct for that kind of thing."
Again this showy frivolity from the spy…
That was the whole difference between military intelligence operatives and intelligence agents — they were less disciplined in their actions, which allowed them not to give themselves away through rigid procedures during operations.
It would take a lot of time and skill to get rid of that if he wanted to continue serving properly.
The current mission could be considered half-failed — because getting in contact with the government through Ellie Stark to sell Imperial weapons was now unlikely.
And not even because the girl might be connected to the 'Zann Consortium'. But because the latter were completely entrenched in the Corporate Sector Authority.
They would either not sell the equipment, or use the operation for their own purposes. And acquiring ships that could be infected with computer viruses, contain sabotage implants, or something similar — would only harm the Dominion.
Not to mention that the funding for this deal would go almost directly into the 'Zann Consortium's' pockets.
One way or another, whatever initiative Rederick could think of to continue the double mission would harm the Dominion.
And that was a completely unnecessary action.
But there was still a chance to complete the second part of the mission, no less important than acquiring ships.
Recruiting Cross and his partner.
Getting such an agent and cloning him, or even using him to train Dominion agents, would be a strategic victory.
"In that case, I'm authorized to offer you both work for the Dominion," Rederick said. "In the context of eliminating the 'Zann Consortium', we have common intentions. Thrawn, as I said, is not one of those peo… sentients," Rederick corrected himself, "whose words don't match their deeds. He's not interested in oppressing or enslaving anyone. The Dominion, of course, isn't an ideal galactic state, but we strive for our citizens to live under protection and want for nothing. We adhere to the rule of law and justice, but not in the context of the New Order and…"
Jahan waved his hand in front of Rederick's face.
"Kid, stop your propaganda machine, okay?" he asked. "I don't care about the Dominion's goals or how well sentients live or are supposed to live there. And the 'Zann Consortium' doesn't interest me either."
"But you came out of the shadows to…" Rederick stopped mid-sentence, realizing that throughout the entire conversation, Cross and Quon hadn't stated their goals. Only vague hints and nothing more.
"He's protecting his girlfriend," Alessi explained, understanding why the sentence was cut short. "Guilt towards Stark because, due to his departure and lack of support, she couldn't become an Imperial agent as she'd dreamed, and returned to the Corporate Sector, taking over 'Rossum'. And he blames himself because if he hadn't treated that love-struck lady with his usual disregard for the consequences that appear in the lives of his former love interests, the lady wouldn't be besieged by 'Consortium' representatives now, and she wouldn't be dragged into dealings aimed at increasing their army."
Rederick looked at the former spy, who was silently contemplating the burning wood.
Was it that simple? A top-level agent's operation driven not by state interests, not by personal gain, not by any other significant goal, but by a guilty conscience?
How much he had learned about the elite of Imperial Intelligence in such a short time, from just one conversation.
"She may no longer be the young girl I met many years ago," Jahan said quietly, "but she got dragged into all of this because of me. I have no doubt that she's still a pure and sensible person, and most likely doesn't even suspect who she's really working for. But I know for sure that as soon as the 'Zann Consortium' crawls out of those dark places in the galaxy where it's hiding, the consequences of their actions will be terrible. And those who oppose Zann's mercenaries will destroy everyone involved. 'Rossum' will be destroyed, and Ellie with it."
The agent tore his gaze from the fire and looked Rederick in the eye.
"Tell me, Bravo-Three, what does your boss do when someone attacks his planets?"
"Eliminates the threat," the Dominion agent replied automatically.
"And then razes the place the threat came from to the ground," Alessi continued. "Thrawn acts quite carefully, though. Unlike those Imperials from Orinda or Yaga Minor."
"Kaine has the Ubiqtorate working for him," Jahan continued. "And along with it, the Inquisitorius. The Imperial Ruling Council has no shortage of its own thugs and mercenaries. The Imperial Guards alone are butchers no worse than the Ailon Nova Guard. Not to mention the Hutts, who have every mercenary in the galaxy working for them, or the New Republic. The latter actually have some of the best saboteurs in their service. The 'Corporates' can talk all they want about hiring the best of the best, but it's not true. They waste money on all sorts of junk, and their 'specialists' aren't worth a rancor's claw. If Ellie is caught with ties to the 'Zann Consortium', her life's work will be destroyed, and she'll be executed or tortured to death in the basements of any intelligence agency. She doesn't deserve that fate."
"I understand all these emotional impulses, and I even sympathize with the good intentions," Rederick said. "But I still don't understand what purpose you had for saving me. Tell me directly — and drop all that talk about feeling sorry for me being torn apart."
Jahan and Alessi exchanged glances.
"No, there's obviously potential," the Sluissi said. "He's sharp. More so than you were at his age."
"Go on, go on," Cross smiled with just his lips. "You lost — pay up."
And again a couple of coins passed from one sentient to another.
"He thought you'd figure it out only a couple of hours after the conversation started," the former spy explained, pocketing his winnings. "I bet it would happen much sooner."
"Do you both know that betting on the actions of other sentients is immoral?" Rederick clarified.
"We wouldn't be doing it otherwise," Alessi admitted. "Well, Cross, your turn. Explain the gist of the operation."
The former spy, smiling crookedly, said:
"I think you understand that I didn't believe your words about mere recruitment?" he clarified.
"Trust is a word that must be earned through deeds," Rederick nodded.
"I won't pry into what you know, and I won't get in your way," Jahan said. "Whatever reason you were sent to the 'Corporates' do your job. But only if it doesn't involve harming Ellie Stark or 'Rossum.' If it does, I'll tear your head off. Clear enough?"
"Perfectly," Rederick agreed. "The problem is that your recruitment is my assignment. The others have become irrelevant given what you've told me about the inner workings of the Corporate Sector Government."
"And you took my word for it?" Jahan's face showed surprise.
"Trust," Rederick shrugged. "I can't verify anything in this cave anyway. But I will, as soon as we go our separate ways. However, I need a clear answer to my proposal — do you agree to work for the Dominion?"
Jahan and Alessi exchanged glances.
Apparently, this gesture was a well-practiced method of exchanging certain nonverbal signals to discuss something that shouldn't be said aloud in front of outsiders.
"Is the alternative to refusing to work for the Dominion — elimination?" Cross inquired.
"Only if you work for the enemy," Rederick admitted.
"Well, as long as I haven't crossed you, I can be considered a potentially valuable asset," Cross nodded to his own thoughts. "In that case, I have a proposal."
"Spit it out," Rederick sighed.
It was already clear that he himself had little say in this dialogue.
The defectors intended to use him for their own purposes, bargaining in exchange for possible service to the Dominion's benefit. A simple and quite typical proposal in negotiations of this sort.
Most likely, the spy and his technician had reached this conclusion long ago, but understood that if they came to Thrawn with such a benefit, the negotiation results might not be in their favor.
"We'll help you carry out your missions," Cross said. "In return, you help me evacuate Ellie from the Corporate Sector."
Rederick thought for a moment.
This agreement exceeded his authority.
Every significant entrepreneur among the "Corporates" was a major figure. And if they also held a government contract, an "evacuation" in plain terms, a likely kidnapping — could be interpreted as a Dominion attack on the Corporate Sector.
The Dominion's Ruler had explicitly stated that Rederick's actions must not harm the Dominion's interests.
A war over one pretty girl hardly fit into Grand Admiral Thrawn's plans.
On the other hand, the kidnapping could be framed as the work of another party, say — Republic intelligence…
Given that Dominion Intelligence still lacked coordinators who could simplify the dilemma with a definitive answer, the decision would have to be made independently.
And, even more so — the responsibility for it.
"Let's simplify the deal," Rederick said. "We arrange the extraction of your lady from the 'Corporates,' along with all the information we can find on her contract. In exchange, you, Jahan, and you, Alessi," he looked at each of the men in turn, "swear allegiance to the Dominion and become part of our intelligence. The details will be relayed by our command..."
"Deal, kid," Cross said quickly, while Quon reached for more coins.
The scout sighed heavily.
"Is there anything at all you didn't predict and didn't bet on?" he asked.
"Yes," Cross immediately replied. "Your biggest blunder, which could cost you your life in another situation. Never, under any circumstances, admit you're a spy. And especially — whose interests you're working for. An agent is never honest during his work: lies replace our skin."
"Well, what was I supposed to do if you'd already figured everything out?" Rederick tried to protest. "Why, you even used a technique to check when I'd come to after being stunned..."
Alessi coughed into his fist.
Cross reluctantly handed him back a couple of coins.
"What does that mean?" Rederick asked.
"We don't have any device for that," Quon explained.
"We just repeated the phrase every half hour that we knew you'd come to," Cross added. "Given your lack of experience with deep infiltrations, it was bound to work."
"I hate you," the former fleet intelligence officer admitted, closing his eyes.
"I said the same thing to this oaf when he broke the first gadget I built for him," Quon said, pointing at Jahan Cross. "That man has no respect for other people's work!"
"Occupational hazard," Cross shrugged.
Winking at Rederick, he added:
"Well, now for the plan. Listen, kid, and remember. Here's what we'll do..."
* * *
General Madine's hologram looked confident, but compared to how Grand Admiral Thrawn presented himself to the galaxy's public, the Republicans could have found someone more imposing.
Feena took a sip from her glass.
The Alderaanian wine hit her taste buds with the bouquet familiar to the galaxy's elite.
"The New Republic Defense Forces have managed to defeat Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet in the Mustafar system," the hologram's unwavering gaze was supposed to convey confidence in the speaker's words, but that wasn't quite visible. "Our forces have captured numerous Dominion warships previously involved in attacks on New Republic worlds. Six Imperial-class Star Destroyers and seven Acclamator-class assault ships are already being delivered to the Sluis Van shipyards. These vessels will be repaired and transferred to the New Republic fleet to continue safeguarding our citizens. Additionally, our valiant forces have destroyed a significant number of Dominion heavy cruisers and corvettes, along with hundreds of small craft. The number of destroyed vessels reaches a hundred ships. We have effectively destroyed the core of Grand Admiral Thrawn's forces, who shamefully retreated, unwilling to share the fate destined for the enemies of the New Republic with his subordinates..."
The girl, draining the glass, brought it to the table to refill it.
"Stop getting drunk," Baron D'Asta grimaced from the adjacent chair, looking disapprovingly at his daughter's actions.
"You are in my home, Baron," Feena reminded him. "And I am no longer at an age to indulge your every whim, trying to avoid your inevitable irritation and anger."
"You are my daughter," Ragez reminded her. "Show some respect."
"And you are my father," Feena retorted, filling the glass almost to the brim. "The request is mutual."
"Impulsive egoist," the Baron growled.
"I inherited the best qualities from my parent," Feena smiled, stretching her legs forward with pleasure and resting them on the coffee table. "If we believe the Republicans, Thrawn has been hurt very, very badly. And you, dear father, claimed he was invincible."
"Don't twist my words," the Baron requested. "Besides, you yourself know Madine can't be trusted."
Feena blinked her long eyelashes.
"Oh, really?" she clarified. "Should I remind you, respected parent, that it was you who previously advocated for making peace with the rebels?"
"I proposed stopping the senseless bloodshed," the Baron objected. "And if a peace treaty with the Republicans is necessary for that, then so be it. The civil war is only ruining the galaxy, nothing more. Millions are dying while politicians on both sides just line their pockets, ignoring how their subjects suffer."
"You say that as if it's a bad thing," the platinum-haired lady took a sip of the new portion. "An amazing bouquet. A hundred years of aging."
"Even wine has aging before you consume it," Ragez stated. "But you don't. That's the second bottle."
"Even the fifth, for all I care," Feena said indifferently. "It drinks like water."
"I'm tired of discussing your alcoholism," the Baron declared. "Let's move on to our affairs."
"We have no common affairs, dear parent," Feena reminded with a smile.
Sometimes she herself didn't understand why she irritated her own father, but she invariably derived some satisfaction from it, acting as she pleased.
"Is the Council going to react to this pronouncement?" Ragez asked.
"They don't care," the girl admitted. "They'll calmly wait until Thrawn exhausts either himself or the New Republic, and then attack. The Dominion or Coruscant — it's not critical in the current situation. There will be profit for Imperial Space regardless."
"Then you are fools," the Baron fumed. "The fact that Madine showed the name of one of the Star Destroyers from Thrawn's original fleet means nothing. War doesn't come without losses."
"Six captured destroyers and at least one destroyed?" Feena smiled. "Dad, you really believe the Republicans haven't broken Thrawn's back."
"I know this man," the Baron said firmly. "And he is alive. Otherwise, the Republicans would have trumpeted it across the galaxy. And they would clearly have launched a counteroffensive against the Dominion, taking advantage of the situation."
"They are assembling a fleet," Feena noted. "Our spies say they've bought a huge number of spare parts on Kuat for an Executor-class Star Destroyer. The workshops are working around the clock to fulfill the Republicans' order. Do you understand what that means?"
"They are commissioning the 'Lusankya,'" the Baron grimaced. "That hasn't been news since they pulled it out of oblivion at the Rendili Shipyards."
"We believe the Republicans are preparing an attack on the Dominion or its allies," Feena turned serious. "Orinda's armed forces are on combat alert. I would advise you to do the same, Father. Your support for Thrawn is quite obvious."
"All necessary preparations have already been made," the Baron waved it off. "But I repeat — Thrawn is alive. And this is probably part of his strategy — the New Republic's victory will inspire them to make another reckless move, after which they will be decisively defeated. And they'll crawl away to lick their wounds."
"Believe what you want, Dad," Feena said indifferently. "The Council knows how to act."
"Well, yes, stab an ally in the back while he's weakened," the Baron snorted. "I expect nothing less from the Imperial Ruling Council."
"Thrawn is not our ally," Feena objected.
"You buy TIE-series equipment from him," Ragez reminded. "Such relationships aren't had with enemies."
"That's commercial cooperation, Father," Feena sighed. "Don't use diplomacy where it doesn't belong."
"Blind fools," the Baron said ruefully. "Though, I expected nothing less from Orinda."
"And what did you think?" Feena was surprised. "That when we learned Thrawn had been hit below the belt, we'd run to wipe his tears? Or put our armed forces at risk to defend his borders? No, Dad, he's a stranger to us. An upstart, nothing more."
"Formally, he is the Supreme Commander of the Empire," Baron D'Asta reminded.
"That's exactly it, formally," Feena clarified. "You cling to this alien because he shares your views on the galaxy's future and coexistence with other states. That's an outdated point of view, nothing more."
"Perhaps," Ragez said thoughtfully.
He looked at his daughter, slowly sipping her wine.
"Something is happening in the Council, isn't it?" he asked.
"Something is always happening in the Council," Baroness D'Asta replied in the same tone. "It's the Council."
"My people report some unhealthy turmoil in the elite part of the Council," the Baron persisted. "And you are part of that part."
Feena swirled the wine in the glass, making small circular motions.
She didn't know what to answer her father.
She herself didn't like the whole situation with Thrawn.
However easily she spoke words of betrayal, inwardly she resisted it. But she understood that if she stepped even slightly beyond the permitted bounds, Sarcev Quest would get rid of her in an instant.
Just like several councilors who also talked too much.
And it didn't matter where it happened — in her own home or in a busy area. Even in the middle of Orinda's capitals — Quest's killers silenced anyone who even thought of revealing a shred of information he shared with them at secret meetings.
This concerned the upcoming return of Palpatine as well.
And the conspiracy being woven to destroy him.
Similar actions applied to Thrawn himself.
He was perceived as nothing more than a tool, useful for eliminating pockets of resistance in the future campaign. But no one in the Imperial Ruling Council even considered a full alliance with this being.
The Empire might be but a pale shadow of itself, but contempt for aliens remained.
And contempt for those aliens who were more talented than the councilors themselves — even more so.
"And I thought you flew to Orinda to see me," she stated, making it clear she intended to change the subject.
"We have seen each other," Ragez stated. "And I also want to warn you against mistakes you might make. Loyalty is always good. The power you seek will never come in a way that lets you sleep peacefully."
"It seems you admired Thrawn," Feena stated. "Should I remind you that he dropped meteors on the Imperial Center?"
"He dropped them on Coruscant's shield," the Baron corrected. "The Republicans took down the deflectors themselves. Confirming once again their incompetence in military matters and their fear of public discontent. Look at the Dominion itself — after the New Republic's attack, they bristled with every gun, and no one even thinks of attacking them. And week after week, they gain more supporters. Thrawn's active combat operations have lasted only six months, and he already controls the sectors Morshdine, Nidjun, Sprizen, the Ciutric Hegemony, Oplovis, the Garos, Kelada, Chasin, Trogan, Makem Te, and Columex systems. The Quelli and Venin sectors have officially declared themselves part of the Dominion. Moff Getelles from the Antimeridian sector is practically on his knees before Grand Moff Ferrus to have his sector accepted into the Dominion as well."
"Yes, thank you for reminding me," Feena arched an eyebrow. "Another reason to hate Thrawn — appointing Ferrus as Grand Moff of the Dominion's metropolis. Your precious alien simply spat in our faces when he did that. Only the Imperial Ruling Council has the right, as the successor to the Empire's official authority, to bestow such a high rank upon a sector governor."
"Say also that Sarcev Quest cried a lot over Thrawn conducting his own internal policy," Ragez laughed.
"Only in your dreams, Father," the girl stated. "But yes, he was a bit stung by that fact. It's a direct challenge to the Council."
"The Dominion is not part of the Empire, and Thrawn can do whatever he wants there," the Baron stated. "The Council had similar complaints against me in its time, but they quickly realized that all they could do in the situation was gnaw their nails and watch the D'Asta sector develop. Like the Dominion, by the way. Do you even know that Thrawn has turned each of the systems separated from the metropolis into fortress worlds?"
"Yes," Feena said, rolling the wine in her mouth. "And we would very much like to know where he got the funds for that. By any chance, dear Father, weren't you the one who sponsored this?"
"I would be glad to bind Thrawn with larger economic ties than we currently have," the Baron said with chagrin. "But he has taken a firm course toward the Dominion's independence and self-sufficiency. I am sure that in time, Agamar and the entire Lahara sector will also join the Dominion. And then Thrawn will control a state capable not only of feeding and providing for itself but also of exporting its products to the galactic market. Against the backdrop of his military victories and the slaps he keeps delivering to the New Republic, the collapse of the Republic's credit is inevitable. And an economic crisis is not far off."
"His defeat in the Mustafar system delays the inevitable for a while, doesn't it?" Feena smiled.
"I am sure that in the near future, the New Republic will bitterly regret what happened at Mustafar," the man said firmly. "That is why I ask you, Feena, don't do anything stupid. As soon as Thrawn gets in touch, go to him. We have a chance to make him our own ally. Look at how events are developing in perspective. Six months ago he had a handful of ships, and now vast territories, a significant fleet, industry, and a string of military successes. You need to befriend a man like that and have his comlink frequency on speed dial..."
"Maybe I should also have children with him?" The girl irritably reached for a new bottle.
"That's not the worst option, you know," the Baron stunned her with his reply. "I've already started some preparations to discuss this matter."
What was said was so unexpected that the wine spilled over the rim of the glass.
"Tell me you're joking," the Baroness looked at her father with a gaze that would have incinerated him on the spot if such a physiological possibility existed in the human body.
"No," the Baron stated. "As soon as Thrawn shows up, I will negotiate with him about the D'Astan sector joining the Dominion. The inclinations you voiced have only convinced me of the correctness..."
"I don't give a damn about your convictions!" Feena sent the crystal glass flying across the room with a strike of her hand. "What did you say about having children with Thrawn?!"
"That will be a topic of conversation," the Baron said calmly. "In the reality where the sector is squeezed on one side by the Dominion, Mandalorians are hanging around, the 'Corporates' are starting to arm themselves, you've switched to a war footing, Kaine is building starships by the hundreds, and the New Republic only dreams of regaining its former glory, a political alliance with Thrawn will benefit the sector. Autonomy within the Dominion is an appropriate status..."
"Children," Feena hissed. "What do children have to do with it?!"
"A political marriage is one of the oldest instruments for guaranteeing alliances," her father reminded her of history lessons. "Diplomacy is powerless where marriage bonds are strong. I believe the Grand Admiral has fully proven his competence in protecting his territories and his allies. I am no longer young, and assassination attempts have already occurred. I see your thirst for power — membership in the Imperial Ruling Council is only spoiling you."
"So you decided to strip me of my councilor status by removing the sector from Orinda's jurisdiction," Feena said, clenching her fingers into fists helplessly. She practically spat out the words without unclenching her jaw.
"It was nothing more than a formality even before today," the Baron noted calmly. "Your political intrigues only lead to destructiveness. I don't want my sector to become a hostage to that destructive internal policy you are pursuing. Thrawn is a force you refuse to acknowledge because of racist views."
"And you, out of your xenotolerance, intend to give your own daughter to a blue-skinned bastard?!" Feena exploded.
She understood perfectly that if the Baron changed the "polarity" of his foreign policy, Feena would instantly lose her position as councilor. Because power in the Imperial Ruling Council must be backed by something substantial. For example, family ties with the ruler of a prosperous pro-Imperial sector.
Of course, there were other ways to retain power and position, but Feena currently lacked the independent significance that could replace the position she held after her father ceded his seat on the Ruling Council to her. Of course, she could turn to her allies in the western part of the galaxy at any moment, but they were also hardened players and understood perfectly when the game was lost.
No one would give her time to "get up to speed" and use her personal resources to achieve economic or other successes to justify a possible attempt to keep her on the Council. Even if Sarcev Quest wanted it badly, there were too many uninitiated conspirators to swing the votes of the conspirators.
If Sarcev and his supporters stood up for her and tried to keep her in violation of all traditions, questions would already arise about them. And in the current situation — during the preparation of a conspiracy against the resurrected Palpatine — Quest would do everything to minimize questions about his supporters.
And if she mentally considered what she knew as a conspirator, the prospects became more than dangerous and fatal.
"There is more humanity in Thrawn than in many humans," the Baron noted calmly. "Not to mention his intelligence and influence on the modern galaxy. You can think as much as you like that you are free to choose your path, but by birth you are an aristocrat. And kindly do what is profitable for our House, instead of dawdling at meetings with people who have long since lost touch with current realities. Your crude epithets about political marriage mean nothing — your mother and I were strangers to each other for the first third of our life together. But we both knew that a political marriage brings profit to the authority of the aristocracy. As you can see, we lived quite happily, since you appeared. You'll get used to it — over time, you might even fall in love."
"You don't understand what you're doing," Feena continued to hiss. "Do this, and I'll lose my place on the Imperial Ruling Council!"
"That concerns me the least," the Baron stated. "Orinda is a relic of the past. As is the Council itself. You need to make the right choice. And if you don't understand what you must do as a Baroness to keep your House from decline, I will make that choice for you."
"Or what?" Feena asked quietly, in the same tone full of pain, rage, and disappointment.
Because she knew the answer perfectly.
"If you don't obey — you are no longer my daughter," the Baron rose from the chair, indicating that the conversation was over.
"I am a free individual!" Fina nearly sobbed, realizing that any action she took would lead to the decision she didn't want to make. "You can't just decide something for me like that!"
"I can and I will, since the wine in your head has washed away the last of your synapses," the baron said firmly.
He measured his daughter with a disappointed look, then said:
"Don't be a fool, Fina," he said more quietly, with a hint of sympathy. "Remember what you were taught. Help the strong when he is weak, and he will be your friend for life. And in this Hutt galaxy, I would prefer my legacy to be on Thrawn's side rather than handed over to his enemies. D'Astan blood will not be spilled to satisfy foolish people. If we are to die, let it be for a better future. Thrawn will give us that. Just as he gives it to his subjects."
"If he's even alive," Fina said, only now realizing that her palm was wet. The glass had cut the aristocrat's skin during her rash move.
"Calm yourself about that," her father advised. "He's alive. I spoke with him half a day ago. He took losses, but he withdrew. And his counterstrike will be terrible — you'll see it yourself soon enough."
"I'd rather see his corpse," the girl hissed.
The baron shook his head disapprovingly.
"In that case, all the effort I put into raising you and passing on my wisdom has been wasted," he stated. "I give you a choice — your mother wasn't given one, by the way. Either you make your own decision in the shortest possible time and go to Ciutric yourself to meet with Thrawn, where your engagement will be announced, or you are no longer my daughter. You will keep everything you currently own, but nothing more."
As the baron left his daughter's mansion, he heard the interior of the living room being smashed.
But Ragez paid little attention to these small weaknesses.
After all, her mother had once tried to kill the groom immediately after the ceremony.
That was how Fina was conceived, actually.
But that is a little secret of House D'Asta, best left unknown to anyone.
* * *
Major Tierce stepped across the threshold of my quarters.
"Operations brief, sir," he stated the purpose of his arrival.
"Come in, Major," I said, tearing myself away from studying data on the computer monitors. "Any news on the unloading?"
"We'll finish within the day," the man promised. "The ground contingent is already producing construction blocks for erecting manufacturing buildings. All facilities are scheduled to be operational by the end of the week. Mineral extraction had already reached planned levels by the time we arrived."
Given that full-cycle production lines had been moved here from Mustafar (as well as from Balmorra), there's no need to worry about electronics or other equipment — everything will be manufactured right here. As long as the necessary resources are available.
And they are here.
"Damage repair?" I inquired.
"Seventy percent complete," Tierce said. "The main problem is the Bellicose. We can't rebuild the bridge from scratch under current conditions."
"Not necessary," I declared. "The destroyer will go with us and be placed at the disposal of shipbuilder Reyes for modernization to the 'Three' standard. Just like all the starships we captured in the last battle. What data are coming in from the scout droids?"
This had become so routine that it wasn't even mentioned in the conversation — in every system we visited that Republic forces or other ships might follow our trail, droids were deployed.
"On Zonju V there is a search force — two Victory-class Star Destroyers and one interdictor cruiser," Tierce replied. "They're deploying scout droids and patrols on X-wings through the systems. Based on intercepted data, they're ready to move out within two days if they don't succeed."
"A show search," I nodded.
In other words — a simulation of intense activity. And nothing more.
"Allocate additional forces to speed up repairs," I ordered. "As soon as damage is repaired, we move out."
"Shall I inform the flag navigator of the course?" Tierce inquired.
"Zonju V," I announced. "Since the New Republic has boasted of defeating us and hinted at my destruction, it wouldn't hurt to teach them a lesson for the future."
"Understood, sir," Tierce agreed.
Then he looked at me with interest.
"Sir, permission to ask a question."
"Permission granted, Major," I replied, resuming my reading of shipbuilder Reyes's report on the condition of our ships. Especially the latest acquisitions.
"What kind of lesson do you intend to teach the Republic?"
"I want to instill in them the understanding that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," I answered without looking up from the memo about the technical innovations of the latest Super Star Destroyer.
"Understood, sir," Tierce replied with a smile, saluting and leaving my cabin.