Nine years, nine months, and thirty-four days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, nine months, and thirty-third day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and nineteen days since the Arrival.)
In times of tight schedules, it's most natural to combine necessary trips with inspections.
At least, that's what the chief of fleet staff used to tell us back then, periodically appearing in our wing of the building. In reality, of course, he came to see the fleet commander, but it just so happened that our unit was located not far from that coveted reception area.
So, after getting chewed out by the commander, the chief of staff would come down to us and start asking what he thought were terrifying questions — questions that only made professionals laugh. The typical simulation of intense activity and the desire to take out one's anger on those beneath you.
The traditional game of "the big boss" in peacetime.
Because, as military wisdom says: "A subordinate must always be busy with work. Otherwise, the political officer gets it in the neck because some overly curious but not-too-bright sailor stuck a fork in an outlet and half the garrison ended up without electricity."
In my youth, I believed that I would definitely become the commander of some fleet and would keep a sharp eye out to ensure no signs of Idle Busywork Disorder appeared among my subordinates.
Therefore, the decision to arrive in Karthakk was arranged so that everything needed for departure was prepared by a specific deadline, but no one was informed that I personally would be dropping in on the system that was cozily nestled in the nebula's embrace.
And so, I confess, I intended to see in the "pirate haven" a lack of discipline and excessive leniency for personnel, various disciplinary violations, and much else for which Moff Tavira would have to become the object absorbing my wrath.
And I must say, I was pleasantly surprised that, instead of materializing at the edge of the fairway cut through the asteroid field known as Lok Ridge, which encircled the planet of the same name, the fleet was pulled out of hyperspace at the system's border.
At a point known as "Mercenaries' Spine." An old name, not keeping with the times, but firmly entrenched among the locals. And therefore officially adopted as a designation.
The station, which functioned as a checkpoint, was guarded by five Mon Calamari star cruisers, and among the markers I also noticed an Immobilizer-418-class interdictor cruiser.
The very one that Captain Tyberos had taken from the "Luminii" pirates and repaired at the local shipyards. It was intended to be withdrawn from the system if the fleet needed reinforcement, just like the cruiser Restrictor, temporarily handed over to Grand Moff Ferrus.
After exchanging access codes, the patrol group allowed the flotilla further into the system.
First on our route was a station formerly known as the "Trade Federation Center," where research work with local obsidian had been conducted. But at the moment, it had been towed closer to Lok Ridge and was simply called "Center." That's where work was being done to study the asteroids of Lok Ridge and to produce combat knives from obsidian for the Dominion's armed forces.
Further on, judging by the absence of markers, Tavira had dismantled Bloody Claws and Alliance stations for scrap — they were piles of metal junk held together as a single piece only by God's mercy.
Or by the remnants of material strength laws and the metal fatigue that hadn't quite defeated reality yet.
The stations "Amber Scale," "Solar Phoenix," the Canyon Corsair base, "Bloody Sea," and "Lok" Station were in the process of repair and reconstruction, visible from the number of ships — both repair and transport — swarming around these objects. The stations were destined to undergo a process of repurposing and deep modernization to serve the needs of the fleet, both civilian and raider.
The fleet dispersed throughout the system — Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers preparing for dispatch to the Dominion, Mon Calamari star cruisers returning from raids or preparing for them, and a large number of transports loading ore mined on the planets — was, I admit, impressive. That Tavira had gotten things properly underway was an established fact.
The "grids" of the orbital repair yards stood empty. It was worth noting that the subordinates of Chief Engineer Reyes had finished repairing the Katana fleet ships even a bit ahead of schedule.
During the time needed to prepare the transport fleet for departure and to submit progress reports, I made a decision.
I must admit that during our last visit to the Karthakk system, on the planet Lok, quite a few striking changes had occurred.
First and foremost, I was very pleased that every single Golan station without exception had been brought to combat readiness.
Tavira had dispersed them near the system entry vectors, allowing the four defensive platforms to subject any uninvited guests to crossfire.
From the altitude of my shuttle's flight path, one could see that numerous standardized settlements had grown on Lok's surface. Small houses made of sand-colored material, built near mining sites; the local garrison, impressive in its area, constructed according to Imperial fortification rules with the requisite planetary defense arsenals, sports complexes, parade grounds, barracks, training ranges...
According to reports from General Covell (a clone, of course), the troops under his command were fully combat-ready and prepared to carry out any assigned task.
Well, we'd see about that.
We'd definitely see, because I needed to replenish the stormtrooper legions that had suffered heavy losses during the assaults.
That, in fact, was what General Covell went off to handle following the meeting.
In the office of the former residence of Captain Nima, rebuilt according to Imperial standards, a small wing was designated for me. True, a battalion of soldiers could have fit in it, but I never had and never would have such a large entourage.
So, choosing a suitable hall for the meeting, I began hearing progress reports.
Chief Engineer Reyes was the first to speak.
"By expanding the workforce with workers from among the residents of Lok and Mamamere, we managed to bring all defensive platforms to combat readiness in the shortest possible time, equipping them with cloaking fields, just like the rest of the stations in the system," said the Chief Engineer. "The refitting of the Katana fleet is complete; the ships are fully crewed."
"Are the orbital grids equipped with cloaking fields and hyperdrives?" I inquired.
"Affirmative, sir," the engineer replied, giving me a suspicious look.
"Good," I said. "Prepare them, along with the crews and repair teams, for transfer to the Dominion."
Judging by his expression, the Chief Engineer was slightly taken aback.
"Yes, sir, of course," he said. "But I must note that not all the locals will agree to leave Karthakk."
"Is that so?" I clarified. "Do you know the reason?"
"If you'll permit me, I'd like to report on this matter in turn," Tavira was sitting in a chair, legs crossed, playing with the whip of her short hair.
"Permission granted," I agreed, shifting my gaze to the engineer. "You have twenty-four hours to prepare everything needed for departure. Including the prototype cloaking device based on stygium, acquired by counterintelligence."
"It, along with the stygium crystals we obtained from the Invisible Island, has already been loaded onto transports," Reyes said.
"All the better," I nodded. "You, Chief Engineer, are free to make your own decision — leave the system with the workshop workers, or stay and take command of Lok Station, which will handle raider maintenance, as well as Amber Scale Station and the former Canyon Corsair base. According to the modernization plans, those are the ones that will perform ship-repair functions for territories under Moff Tavira's control."
"Yes, sir," the man replied. "I think I'll stay here."
"As you wish," I said, indicating that his report was concluded.
The Chief Engineer picked up his data chips and hurried out.
Now came the simplest, and at the same time, the most difficult part.
A conversation with Leonia Tavira.
I certainly wasn't afraid that she would start repeating her "antics." According to my information, she had already received her long-awaited victim in the form of Captain Tyberos, so her deviations should have found an object of desire.
"Moff," I addressed her. "Your turn. Please proceed."
"Thank you, Grand Admiral," despite her violet eyes sparkling playfully in a strange way, the woman kept herself within the bounds of propriety. "I'll start, if I may, with why not all the locals working for us will want to leave the Karthakk system."
"Yes, this is a very interesting question," I agreed.
"The locals are, for the most part, sedentary," Tavira explained. "A significant portion of the population has lived in the system for most of their lives. The Meere are particularly settled beings and are not accustomed to venturing beyond the system. That's precisely why they flock en masse to the enterprises and military service within the system's borders. Raiding interests them, but only from the perspective of improving their people's lives. So, since you're taking the repair yards away from here, a certain portion of the locals will stay to work at the stations planned for commissioning. The local population is fully satisfied with the sector's internal policies and the volume of imported goods. The increased procurement of fish and other sea creatures, as well as ore, improves the welfare of the Meere and the rest of the population. Demand for goods delivered to the system is consistently high. There are no economic or other problems. Loyalty among the Meere to the Dominion's authority is high and unwavering. But in any case, the Meere won't leave the system. The same cannot be said for Lok's population — they'll be ready to get as far away from the system as possible."
"Well, that's their business," I concluded. "We have dozens of planets for resettlement throughout the Dominion."
It made things easier for me if the Meere intended to guard the system. There were millions of them, and they would easily serve to form Karthakk's defense forces.
And the fish products mined here were in great demand in Dominion markets. Not to mention that the waste from this type of industry was perfectly suitable for the operation of the biomolecular mass reactor that Captain Hoffner had purchased and brought from the planet New Cov, which was added to stormtrooper and army rations.
"Counterintelligence should have handed over Sol Sixx, the leader of the 'Meere Resistance,' to you for interrogation," I reminded.
"Yes, at the counterintelligence officers' request, he is imprisoned on the prison station, along with his accomplices from among the Meere," the Moff confirmed. "The underground is not very large — just under a hundred individuals. They are condemned by the locals, and the Meere court has already handed down the maximum penalty. After counterintelligence finishes extracting all the information they possess from them, they will be executed."
"I'm interested in something else," I noted, recalling Captain Steben's report. "Sixx's claim that he is cooperating with the 'Zann Consortium.' Are criminals operating in the system?"
"Out of the question," Leonia declared. "I have recruited over ten thousand local residents into the secret investigative service, who work for the ideal that the system will flourish under the Dominion's rule. If representatives of the 'Consortium' were here, they would have been identified and turned in long ago. But the work continues non-stop."
Ten thousand informants in such a short time? Hmm, this lady knew how to take the bull by the horns. Not a bad start.
"Well, let's hope you're not mistaken," I said diplomatically, fully aware that Lieutenant Colonel Astarion had already sent several hundred of his operatives here. Secret from Tavira, they would shake down the system so thoroughly that we would get the real answer. "Don't underestimate Sixx's words that he expected help from Zann's fighters right after he carried out his sabotage."
"All necessary orders have been given; the system is under reliable protection and surveillance," Tavira said firmly. "No outsider will do anything here without my knowledge."
"I'll remember those words, Moff," when our eyes met, the amusement vanished from her violet irises as if blown away by the wind. "I hope I won't have to recall them in the event of your failure. And I won't have to send Isard here to investigate."
"You won't," Tavira straightened up abruptly, losing even a hint of nonchalance. "The system is protected and will remain so from now on."
"We'll see," I replied vaguely. "Now, let's move on to the details. Has the extraction of stygium crystals begun?"
"Affirmative," the woman replied, perfectly regulation-style. "Only General Covell's stormtroopers are involved in the stygium mining. The site is secured by surveillance systems and Noghri. Strict accounting of all extracted material is being maintained."
"How large are the extraction volumes?" I inquired.
"The entire island is covered in crystals," Tavira stated. "We're talking about hundreds of thousands of tons — prospectively. At the moment, just over a hundred tons have been extracted and loaded onto transport ships for dispatch to the Dominion. Given the scarcity of this material on the galactic market..."
"The question of selling stygium is not open to discussion, period," I declared in a tone that brooked no argument. "Any attempts to circumvent this prohibition will only lead the criminals to an acquaintance with Lady Isard."
Leonia paled but remained silent.
So such thoughts had indeed crossed her mind.
Good, noted.
"Mineral extraction and the exploration of Lok Ridge are proceeding according to plan," Tavira continued. "Supplies are disguised as shipments by shell companies established in Hutt Space. Bills of lading for small convoys or single ships are produced in several types — for inspection by Imperial patrols, or Republic ones. As of now, no ship inspections have been conducted by either side."
"Not Kard," I named the first planet from the local star. "How is the construction of the military-industrial cluster on that planet progressing?"
"The testing laboratories and assembly workshops are built; there is no shortage of personnel thanks to the cloning laboratory operating on Lok," the woman stated. "The samples of W-165 planetary turbolasers, V-150 and V-180 ion cannons obtained from Grand Moff Ferrus are in the process of being studied. Similarly for the planetary shield projectors. I am confident that by the end of the year we can begin production of copies. A large volume of manufacturing needs to be established through reverse engineering. Including Kuat-pattern hyperdrives, which were delivered to us with the last shipment. Given the loyalty of the Meere, I am confident that after some time, they too can be recruited for such production under high wages. It is quite possible that right here we can establish an industrial conglomerate for the production of high-precision equipment necessary for the Dominion's defense."
"It's a blessing that the Karthakk system contains all the chemical elements known in the galactic periodic table, except for the rarest ones," I noted.
"Exactly so, Grand Admiral," Tavira nodded. "Considering that you intend to remove the orbital repair yards from us, and also in view of the sedentary nature of the native Marameran population, may I ask you to grant the Karthakk system the status of a classified restricted facility? I would like to make Maramere an exclusively civilian facility with resource and food production directions, and also move the trading stations and facilities into its orbit. I would like to close Not Kard to free visitation — not specific regions, but the entire planet. Lok will remain the capital world, with mines, the garrison, military bases, and mining settlements made up of clones. Access to the system should be an exclusive right for military ships. So, for example, cargo can be transported aboard Mon Calamari star cruisers and Captain Tyberos's raiders, just as the New Republic did. They will also deliver resources and escort transport convoys to the Dominion. I would suggest removing the 'Colicoid Swarm,' as independent raiders, from Karthakk entirely. Considering the importance of the system, I would like to confine the actions of the ships under my command exclusively to the defense of the territories under my control, thereby minimizing the possibility of the facility being exposed to the enemy. I planned to establish a base for the raiders at Amber Scale Station..."
The idea wasn't without merit.
After another round of shifting production capacities, what effectively remained in Karthakk was only our secret production of "illegal copies." Those that existed and those that would be brought here for unofficial "copying" in the future.
The mere fact that stygium was present here raised the system's value to enormous proportions — and not only within the Dominion, but across the entire galaxy. If anyone were to learn that resources for producing arguably the best cloaking systems in the galaxy were located here, there would be very big problems.
That's precisely why it would indeed be good to seal off the system from excessive visits by raiders. One or two beacons and a ship's vector could be calculated, and through it, reach Karthakk. And the loss of this system would be significantly detrimental to the Dominion.
Setting up the production of "illegal copies" on Dominion planets would be overly imprudent — it would be far simpler to keep this in worlds like Yalara or Karthakk. If I lost any of these parts of the Dominion — the Metropolis, Yalara, or Karthakk — I would always have reserves to restore my strength.
Tavira's idea was interesting, no doubt, but a clear personal interest was evident in it.
Irva and Veyna — outside the system, but keep Tyberos close to herself?
Woman and power — how very interesting...
No, of course, Irva could be withdrawn from Karthakk. And Tyberos, and indeed any of the ships.
They don't know the system's final coordinates—cloned navigators in manual mode handle the exit from the system and the in-system piloting. That information never remains or is stored in the navigation computers. The navigators are programmed to self-destruct if any unauthorized attempt is made to extract data, and fortunately, former Imperial spies know how to hide poison so no one will ever find it.
The nebulae surrounding Karthakk make it impossible to study the star patterns or even hypothetically construct coordinates, so the system's security is assured either way.
"Captain Irv will be taken out of the system," I agreed, figuring that the Colicoid Swarm already had considerable freedom of movement and action. For example, it was currently on an independent raid, and only the Hutt knew when the ship and crew would return. Of course, the navigator reported their movements, and upon return, Captain Irv would have plenty of questions. "The cloning laboratory aboard the assault cruiser, hidden in the asteroid belt, is coming with me as well. Since you are confident in the loyalty of Maramere's inhabitants, bring them in to work. Under Dominion specialist supervision at first, naturally. I'm also taking the trophy interdictor cruiser from you. You've had time to study the gravity well generators, so I expect you to quickly set up similar production at Karthakk's facilities. Likewise, I intend to receive on my ships all finished samples of Scimitar-class bombers, Xg-1 gunships, engines for Star Destroyers, and many other things whose production you have already established."
The privateers' base and support forces can be relocated to either Axila or Makem Te. The latter is even preferable, since the planets already have established "specializations" as havens for pirates and privateers. Especially since Kavil's Corsairs clearly won't mind company with such an arsenal.
Still, there is definitely a difference between the privateers in our service and the support forces led by Tyberos. A substantial one. Very substantial.
"But Captain Tyberos and his small detachment will also leave Karthakk," I concluded.
A shadow fell across Tavira's face.
Her lips pressed tight, shoulders slumped, nostrils flared, chest heaving.
Her fingers clenched into her trousers, betraying the impatience filling her.
"You've done good work, Moff Tavira," I said in a calm tone, not taking my eyes off the woman. "At the same time, I want to remind you that service to the Dominion takes priority over personal life."
"You say that because you don't have one," Leonia blurted out, instantly turning into a fury.
A flash of an image went through my mind: a man in a suit with disheveled hair and a caption: "Women."
No words, just emotions.
I'm afraid it's time to stop promoting females to significant positions.
Jade provokes, Ventress and Tano decided to show some attitude, Tavira again chose to go berserk knowing her favorite toy was being taken away…
No, decisively, no more appointments to significant and leadership positions based on past merits.
It's like some kind of eclipse has come over the female gender. First Shira tried to deceive, now these… Decisively, some epidemic of freethinking and showing character.
For some reason, I recalled that Isard, whenever I met her, was working. In constrained conditions, under constant surveillance and control, but still working! Her scam with the Bothans alone was something.
If I weren't afraid that she might have some kind of implants in her own head, I would certainly appoint her to the position of Director of Dominion Intelligence.
"My personal life has been the subject of discussion far too often lately," I remarked aloud. "That is unacceptable. Rukh."
Before Tavira could say or do anything, a muscular gray hand slid out from behind the back of her chair, instantly gripping the moff woman's throat so that she began to choke.
"Now listen to me carefully," my voice was level, the intonation what I call "work mode." "I won't repeat myself. I will not allow you to arrange a personal life at the expense of the Dominion. You are here, and alive at all, only because of your usefulness. Otherwise, it would be easier for me to make copies of you and teach them obedience. Work properly, and you will have the opportunity to arrange your personal life. In your free time. Have I made myself clear?"
"Dha," Leonia croaked, already starting to turn blue. No matter how hard she dug her nails into Rukh's arm, no matter how much she tried to pierce his skin with her sharpened nails, it wasn't working very well.
"I hope so," I said, rising from the table. "You have until my departure to provide me with plans for reconstructing Karthakk, accounting for the departure of the workshops, personnel, and the cloning laboratory. If you don't manage it, you'll come with me to the Dominion. But, unlike me, you'll be looking forward to a date with Lady Isard. I assure you, she is also least interested in your personal life troubles…"
She managed.
I must admit, mentioning a "date" with Isard is almost the best catalyst in this galaxy.
Too bad it doesn't work on engines the same way. Or increase turbolaser power.
* * *
"That was very stupid of you—to come and surrender voluntarily," said Aveka, smiling as she watched the tall Zygerrian fasten the thoroughly beaten Imperial to chains hanging from the ceiling.
His stripped body was covered in bruises, abrasions, and even open, burned wounds…
And, admittedly, the kid was holding up well.
After the physical beating, it was time for special measures.
"I need to speak with Miss Stark," the familiar young man said stubbornly, his split lips smacking. "It's very…"
"Silence." Alaf, without waiting for an order, activated his electrostatic whip and lashed the young spy's back, already ragged like strips of cloth.
With the sound and smell of cooked meat, the boy arched like a bow.
Only after the Zygerrian tore the whip from his back (along with pieces of flesh) did the Imperial's body hang limply on the chains.
"Sweetie, I can see how much it hurts you," Aveka Dunn said in a caring tone, approaching the clearly exhausted young man and stroking his cheek. "You just need to tell me everything you know, give up all your accomplices—especially the one who knocked me out—and I promise you'll get bacta, painkillers, and a considerable reward. No more pain…"
The young man suddenly laughed.
The young woman had seen a lot in her years serving various employers, but this…
With a whistling sound, Alaf's whip struck the guy's body again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the boy arched like a bow, and a cry of pain turned into a howl escaped his throat.
But he never said anything that would interest Aveka.
"You're not a stupid boy, Imperial," Aveka lifted the prisoner's chin with her hand, casually holding his gaze on the décolletage of her excellent combat suit. "Alaf will whip you to death. Take my word for it. Even the Zygerrians exiled him from the remnants of their empire because he has absolutely no principles. He only cares about money. And I paid him a lot as an interrogation master. Believe me, sooner or later you'll say everything. Everyone does; you're no exception. The pain you're feeling now is nothing compared to what awaits you because of your stupid silence…"
The young man laughed again.
The Zygerrian's whip whistled…
Alaf Sagaal Shan.
And he was silent again…
"No, I am genuinely impressed by how you manage to endure such pain," Aveka gave a modest round of applause. "But it's completely stupid. You're such an impressive boy," she gave the man an expressive once-over from head to toe, "that it's even a shame, but torturing and causing you pain is my job…"
"Pain, you say?" the prisoner asked hoarsely, raising his head and looking straight into the tormentor's eyes.
"I understand how you feel right now," Aveka assured him fervently. "I don't even understand why you're so stubborn. All this could be avoided…"
"What do you know about pain?" the prisoner suddenly grinned.
"Absolutely everything," Alaf said in the tone of an expert. "I will turn every cell of your body into a source of pain."
The prisoner laughed, simultaneously spitting blood that had accumulated in his mouth from his injured lips onto the floor.
"You know nothing about pain," he concluded.
"I doubt you know what real pain is yourself," Alaf said authoritatively.
"I'd bet," the man continued to grin, raising his head to look down on his tormentors. "I've been through such pain that just mentioning it would send many into catatonia."
"At your age?" Aveka asked with interest, hands on her hips. "You just graduated from the Academy not long ago…"
"I was married," the prisoner said, defiantly looking into the girl's eyes.
"And… so what?" Aveka looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Admirable pain," Alaf said unexpectedly.
To her astonishment, Vex noted that the Zygerrian gave a respectful bow to the prisoner.
"Could someone explain…?" the woman frowned.
"Twice," the prisoner said, sighing with pain in his voice, as if recalling something extremely unpleasant from his past.
"Owwww," the Zygerrian winced, shaking his head as if he had felt the invisible pain himself. "A real man. Your endurance deserves all praise. Your clan can be proud of you."
"Is this some kind of joke?" Aveka Dunn shook her hair in confusion, glancing from one man to the other.
It seemed that representatives of two different races had found something in common.
Although expecting sympathy from an unscrupulous Zygerrian, who had spent most of his life in Hutt Space and was even exiled by his own kind for slave trading in territories where other groups had interests (but where they paid much more for slaves), was at least foolish.
And yet, for some reason, one began to respect the other… For what?!
Because the prisoner was married? Twice?
What absurdity!
"No joke," Alaf declared, turning off his energy whip. "This man knows how to endure even the most brutal pain. My skills are useless here. I'd kill him faster than I'd get useful information."
The Zygerrian hung the hilt of his weapon on his belt, which he had used even back when he was a slave owner. He looked at the woman who had hired him for the dirty work with a sense of accomplished duty.
"My authority ends here," he said firmly, leaving the torture chamber.
Aveka watched the descending panel with bewilderment, not fully understanding what had just happened here.
"Fine," she sighed, turning to the prisoner. "I'll deal with you myself. First it'll be pleasant and painful, then very painful."
When she took a step forward to quickly strike the prisoner with her foot, the battered body unexpectedly twisted, dodging the blow.
And at the same time gaining some momentum for movement…
The last thing Aveka remembered before a lock of male legs wrapped around her neck, applying a chokehold, was the prisoner dislocating his own thumb and pulling his hand out of the restraints.
It seemed she was right about one thing—the Zygerrian had no principles.
Whoever paid more, that's who he worked for.
* * *
"You know, I actually believed you when you said we were heading for Hypori," said Yazuo Vain, staring unblinkingly through the huge viewport at the massive planetoid adorned in a cream-sand hue.
From a distance, the planet resembled Geonosis or Tatooine, but it wasn't either.
"We were heading for Hypori," Irv admitted, watching the data from the scout fighters streaming onto the main tactical monitor. "But right before our arrival, the 'Butcher of Atoa' showed up. Not to mention that, as it turns out, remnants of the Zann Consortium are hanging around there. The worst company for poking around Separatist planet ruins looking for something valuable."
"Can't fault your logic," Vain agreed, looking at the commander of the Colicoid Swarm. "Still, where are we?"
"Quadrant S-16, Ferra sector," Irv reminded him.
"I can read the instrument panel data too," Yazuo assured him.
"Which is strange, given your intelligence level," Aut-O monotonously grumbled. "We're at Horn."
"That name means nothing to me, tin can," Vain said without malice, apparently having gotten used to the tactical super droid's grousing during their journey through the Outer Rim, bypassing the patrols of all possible factions. The droid was perpetually dissatisfied with life.
"Not surprising," Aut-O said, oddly enough without insults this time. "Horn is a young planet, rich in minerals. It has no native population and is not on astronomical charts. If anyone outside the Confederacy of Independent Systems knows about it, it's a tiny fraction of the smallest fraction of galactic inhabitants with an intelligence coefficient slightly above that of a piece of wroshyr wood. That is, none of those you could call a friend, piece of meat."
Ah, no, it's the same as always.
"One day I'll shoot you," Vain promised.
Planet Horn.
"Not today, piece of meat," Aut-O's optical receptors flickered triumphantly.
"Stop it," Irv demanded, tearing himself away from reading the sensors. "Horn is one of the few CIS planets that was regularly attacked by the Galactic Republic but held out. As one very talkative head already said," he pointed at Aut-O's remains, "Horn is an extremely young planet. Since the planet's surface only recently began to cool, the planet's natural resources were easily accessible. However, that is also the reason it was abandoned—thirty years ago, the crust was unstable, leading to huge losses in mining."
"But, as I understand it, the CIS set up shop here, didn't they?" Vain inquired.
"Not exactly," Irv frowned. "Before the Clone Wars, the Geonosians used Horn as a secret production base for battle droids. You don't remember this…"
"And more than likely never knew," Aut-O interjected.
"…but the Clone Wars were preceded by a decade of the Separatist Crisis. After the Trade Federation got a serious thrashing with its Naboo Blockade, major changes began. Corporate tycoons realized the Republic was getting bold at the expense of the corporations, so, not without the help of Count Dooku, they began to unite as a counterbalance to what Coruscant considered legitimate authority. For ten years, the future founders of the CIS gathered strength, built bases, secretly created armies and industrial facilities. Everyone understood it would only take a tiny spark for the whole galaxy to go up in flames."
"An impressive history lesson," Vain agreed. "How does that relate to Horn?"
"The Geonosians are one of the founders of the CIS," Aut-O explained. "Are you really that stupid, piece of meat?"
"On Horn, the Geonosians tried to build their traditional spire-hives, which served as both homes and workplaces. But because of the unstable crust, all the buildings collapsed into the crust before completion. To solve the problem, the Geonosians started building their spires upside down. That is, not on the surface, but digging downwards."
"An underground hive," Vain said thoughtfully. "Reminds me of a horror holofilm…"
"One way or another, the Geonosians managed to achieve what they wanted," Aut-O said impatiently. "This was one of the best production facilities in this part of the galaxy. Billions of battle droids were shipped to the fronts from here. When the Republic attacked Geonosis and occupied it, our enemies didn't even understand why it had no effect on the CIS army's combat capability. In that way, the Geonosians were the only ones to achieve such impressive success in secret production at the beginning of the war."
"Unfortunately, the secrecy of the Geonosian operations on Horn didn't last long," Irv noted. "I don't remember exactly how, but the Republic discovered Horn. And sent a fleet here…"
"Which got wrecked," Aut-O declared.
"And then another, and another," the Colicoid Swarm's commander continued.
"Most of them got wrecked," the tactical super droid insisted. "I personally wiped out a couple of fleets during the wars as a test battle."
"And what was the point of that?" Vain asked.
"Checking professional competence, piece of meat," the droid explained. "If you humans had the same, maybe there'd be fewer idiots around."
"In any case, Horn was destroyed because the Republic, having shed blood here, decided to stop trying to capture the planet," Irv summed up. "They carried out an orbital bombardment of the Geonosian hives, destroying the industry. The remains of dozens of CIS ships that were left on the surface are scattered across the planet. Later, during the confrontation between the Galactic Empire and the Rebel Alliance, another battle took place here. From what I remember, the Imperials won, but for some reason, they weren't interested in this planet."
"That's strange," Vain declared. "If there are rich mineral deposits here, why abandon the planet?"
"I don't know," Irv admitted. "Fly to Orinda and ask what's what. I think they wouldn't refuse something like that right now."
Vain thought for a short while.
"Are you suggesting we check if there's anything on the planet that could be useful for building our own faction?" Vain asked.
"I'm more than certain there is," Irv agreed. "Just as I'm certain that part of our organic crew is squealing to Thrawn. That's exactly why I came to Horn. I wanted to keep Hypori secret, but somehow the Dominion found out about it. By logic, Horn is a planet whose location Thrawn or the Empire should already know about. Let's give it to them—let them figure out what to do with it themselves. I can easily claim I got the information from my sources or bought it from information brokers. Makes no difference at all. We'll land, scour what's here. We need spare parts, droids, possibly maps, production data. There are dozens of Trade Federation ships crashed on the planet, and they were often used either as battle droid transports or as work modules for mining or production. If we're going to set up a proper base, we need to do it in a place unknown to the enemy and certainly to the allies. Hypori and Horn were decent options, but, well, there are better ones."
The landscapes of planet Horn.
"It looks bleak," Vain nodded at the holographic images of the planet's surface. "Ruins, sand, and hopelessness…"
"Uh-uh-uh, sir," a B-1 in charge of scanning systems turned their way. "Our sensors detected signals on the planet's surface… Looks like several foundries and industrial facilities of the Confederacy are still operational."
"Oh, fun is coming!" Yazuo grinned.
"Whoever they are," Irv said firmly, "the CIS legacy is mine. Battle stations! Prepare the landing force for surface deployment."
"Hooray, a massacre!" Aut-O muttered in his usual matter-of-fact tone.
* * *
The Black Pearl emerged from under the enemy's fire, showing its impeccably black hull—as black as its commander's thoughts—to the Gladiator-class Star Destroyer named The Destroyer.
"Salvo," Captain Tyberos ordered.
The launchers spat out all the prepared anti-ship missiles.
The kinetic projectiles, leaving their cozy nests, streaked toward their targets.
The homing warheads, though not the smartest in the galaxy, successfully recognized the threats that the gunners of the pirate Gladiator could offer in return, as it relentlessly poured laser and turbolaser fire onto the Black Pearl's flanks.
Therefore, the effect of the first salvo turned out to be completely different from what many expected.
Instead of raking the Gladiator's decks with a fiery squall, they streaked toward the other starships of the pirate Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's gang.
The numerous armed freighters and a few outdated corvettes that had seen the days of the Clone Wars were not prepared for this kind of attack.
Considering that the Black Pearl was holding the Gladiator with its tractor beams and relentlessly battering the deflector field with turbolasers, the most obvious target for the missile salvo would have been Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's flagship starship.
That's exactly why Tyberos ordered the missiles to attack the other ships.
The Dominion's support forces, consisting of a Providence-class carrier/destroyer and two Munificent-class star frigates, had arrived in the Tammuz-an system in the Outer Rim not to definitively end the life of one particular bandit.
In the decades before the creation of the Galactic Empire, Tammuz-an was located in a region of the galaxy known as Hutt Space.
Hutt territory shrank significantly after the Clone Wars, as a result of which Tammuz-an ended up outside their borders.
In the early years of the Empire, a local staged a coup, usurping the throne. Eventually, the true prince returned to his homeworld and reclaimed the throne as the legitimate ruler of Tammuz-an.
He was almost immediately drawn into a civil war and only managed to establish peace among his subjects thanks to the actions of the pirate group Gih Kibo Ren-Cha, a pirate from the nearby world of Tarnung.
The latter had a particular obsession with raiding Tammuz-an itself, which had considerable strength and wealth.
And in the past, Gih Kibo Ren-Cha had already caused trouble for the locals more than once. He had been defeated, captured, and even had the very Star Destroyer he now commanded taken from him.
But, as it turned out, due to the galactic chaos, Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's gang had resurfaced.
And Tyberos received the task of correcting that problem.
First of all, the Dominion, and Thrawn personally, was interested in the Gladiator-class Star Destroyer in the pirate gang's possession.
Secondly, as Tyberos understood, Thrawn was also interested in a show of force to the local population.
Their own armed forces had decent equipment but were rather small in number compared to the pirate fleet.
In the end, after defeating and destroying two-thirds of Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's fleet, the local armed forces ceased to exist.
And right before the pirates landed their ground forces, Tyberos's battle group arrived in the system.
Perfectly timed, thanks to Dominion Intelligence operations, to finish off the weakened enemy.
Whether Tammuz-an would be interested in an alliance or in establishing economic, diplomatic, or other relations with the Dominion was not really all that important, actually. The primary goal was destroying the pirates.
At least, for Tyberos himself.
Attacking New Republic convoys was fun, sure, but wiping out pirate groups with practically no restraints — that was a whole different matter.
The Dominion was interested in making its actions to eliminate criminals and enemy groups that harmed the population widely known throughout the galaxy. That very "peace and order, legality and justice" that Thrawn proclaimed and that were enshrined in Dominion law as the foundational principles of existence and worldview of the new state — backed up by action…
Which would strike even harder at the demagogues of the New Republic, who only blustered about wanting to help everyone, everywhere…
"The enemy fleet has been destroyed," the watch officer reported, glancing toward Tyberos. "The Destroyer is trying to break free from our tractor beams by altering its thrust vectors."
"Increase power to the tractor beam projectors," Tyberos ordered, watching as Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's flagship struggled in the invisible grip like a fish washed up on shore. "Prepare the landing craft — we're beginning the boarding action."
"Aye, sir!" the watch officer replied.
"The King of Tammuz-an has sent a message of gratitude for the elimination of the pirates and requests the commander's presence at the palace for an award ceremony," the comms section relayed.
"Inform him that we are glad to help any neutral state in destroying pirate scum," Tyberos said with a smirk. "Thank the king for the invitation and assure him that I am truly honored by the gesture. Once the threat of Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's gang is eliminated, I will certainly come to the palace to express my admiration for his subjects' actions in repelling the attack."
A little flattery, like a grain of mutual respect.
Diplomacy was not the former privateer's strongest suit, but at the same time — officer training courses were not wasted.
"Incoming call from the Chimaera!" the comms officer announced again.
"Transfer it to my personal holocomm," Tyberos ordered, taking the communication device off his belt. "Time to report a successful hunt on pirate scum to the Grand Admiral."
* * *
"The boarding of the Destroyer is ongoing, Grand Admiral," reported the commander of the Black Pearl. "Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's fleet and his entire group have been destroyed. Tammuz-an has already sent a message thanking us for the assistance provided."
"Are they ready to negotiate with the Dominion?" I inquired.
"They are at least ready to meet with a plenipotentiary representative of the Dominion," Tyberos stated. "The king was impressed by how quickly we dealt with the pirates. He is concerned that after the destruction of Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's gang, other pirates might try to take advantage of the situation and attack Tammuz-an before they rebuild their defensive fleet. At the same time, he made it quite clear that his small state has no intention of losing its sovereignty, even within the Dominion. In other words, they are not opposed to receiving help against pirates, but they want to remain independent."
"The king's concerns are understandable," I nodded. "Well, no one is forcing anyone to become part of the Dominion."
Especially not such a remote world as Tammuz-an, located in Quadrant T-14. That was practically the eastern edge of the galaxy. Of all the worlds the Dominion had visited, only Shola was further toward the border — Quadrant U-14.
"Remain in the system, if the king has no objections," I said. "Provide for their security, and also conduct reconnaissance in the nearby systems of the Tammuz sector. I am interested in uninhabited systems, or those that would not object to hosting a Dominion fleet base on their territory. If the king shows favor towards you, you may broach the subject with him, explaining that we need the base to continue operations against pirates in this part of the galaxy."
If Tyberos was surprised, he didn't show it.
"Yes, sir." The captain, understanding the conversation was over, disconnected.
I leaned back into my chair in my quarters aboard the Chimaera, studying the holographic map of the galaxy's eastern edge with a slight squint.
Why was it necessary to attack Gih Kibo Ren-Cha's gang and come to the aid of the King of Tammuz-an when he hadn't asked for it? Especially in the context of hunting pirates in the eastern parts of the galaxy?
Simple.
Tammuz-an, like Shola, was located on the eastern fringe.
These were worlds, along with the sectors, situated far from the major regional trade routes passing through these quadrants.
And that was important.
It wasn't even about Quadrants T-14 and U-14.
They were, without a doubt, interesting to me not only because Shola could yield minerals and supply them to the planned base in this part of the galaxy for starship and equipment repair.
It was about Quadrant T-15, adjacent to those mentioned above.
And my interest in them was very, very transparent.
For one simple reason — in Quadrant T-15 lay Quaibron. Or, as some called it, Quiberon.
And inside it were several systems, such as Dorand, Epsilon, Inat Prime, Liran, C'aibron, R-Dubba… Actually, that was what you could find in a simple astronavigational reference guide anywhere in the galaxy.
A tourist guide would tell you that the sector had numerous mining colonies and large deposits of natural resources that were exported to the Core Worlds and the Colonies.
Those close to criminal circles would tell you that criminal elements operated in the sector, producing and transporting drugs here, flooding many sectors of the Outer Rim.
Those close to agricultural circles would tell you that it also produced large quantities of food and agricultural crops, providing food for many hundreds of planets. A convenient price-to-quality ratio…
But the military, especially those who had fought in the Clone Wars, could tell you the real reason I was interested in establishing a foothold near the Quaibron sector.
The Rothana system was located in this sector. And to test the strength of the Zann Consortium's defensive systems, its minefields, and so on, I needed a base so I wouldn't have to drag equipment, troops, and ships across half the galaxy.
That was why I needed a foothold.
Tammuz-an, along with a number of other planets in this part of the galaxy, suited this plan better than any other.
The foundation of a successful offensive and a methodical siege (and the prepared defenses of the Zann Consortium could not be taken any other way) was establishing logistics.
You could send ships across the galaxy as much as you wanted, but bases were necessary.
At the moment, I had them in most of the galaxy. And each of the planets I supported beyond the Dominion's metropolis, turned into fortress worlds, were my outposts for future campaigns.
At the time of his death at the Battle of Bilbringi, Mitth'raw'nuruodo had a rough outline of a five-year campaign against the New Republic.
Death at Rukh's knife had prevented him from even approaching the final version of a hypothetical campaign.
Oddly enough, I also had a plan for a campaign against the New Republic after neutralizing the problem of the resurrected Emperor.
And I had a plan for a campaign against the other Imperial Remnants.
Moreover, I had rough plans against the Hapes Consortium, the Hutts, the Yevetha, and even the Yuuzhan Vong.
As well as plans to capture or destroy the weapons, fleets, and secret laboratories from Grand Moff Tarkin's stockpiles in the Maw Cluster.
I had plans for everything.
And copies of them were stored on an encrypted data drive, placed at Captain Pellaeon's disposal.
But, as funny as it sounded, I would have to improvise in any case, sticking to the overall strategy, but nothing more.
Mitth'raw'nuruodo calculated the enemy one or two steps ahead.
And he was killed.
I knew the main milestones of the future for decades ahead.
And, as paradoxical as it sounded, for my legacy to live, I would have to die.
Sad, without a doubt, but there was no other way.
I cast a glance at the monitor screens, watching with a smile as most of my plans for the current campaign had completion marks next to them.
A few major battles remained, and that was it.
The current secondary operations would be completed even without my direct involvement.
I looked at the Dominion's territories, the fleet composition, the army size…
Six months of work, and the finale of the "Crimson Dawn" campaign remained unchanged for me.
All of this was sad.
Well, there was only one thing left — to go out in style.
Artistically.
So that at the mere memory of me, the enemy would soil his pants.
Well, as the card players from my courtyard in a past life used to say: "If you can't win the hand, flip the table and start blasting."
I suppose that's what we'll do.