With the first blow, he deprived the woman of her hair, turning her lush mane into something resembling the haircut of an overgrown recruit.
"It seems your hand trembled, Commodore Shohashi," Isard said, looking him straight in the eyes.
The man did not miss her blood-bitten lips — that was how Iceheart was restraining her pain.
"We've only just begun," Eric promised her, delivering a second blow.
When your nickname includes the name of a profession related to butchering animal carcasses, you inevitably start to get acquainted with this ancient art.
It's especially easy to do when you can find a bounty hunter manual on the HoloNet that describes the location of human pain points.
And about how to inflict suffering.
Just what was needed.
Eric had been preparing for this moment for months.
He had studied the necessary material in detail.
Therefore, the little finger on Isard's right hand separated from the body as quickly as the self-study guide had predicted.
The woman, who had held back until now, filled the shower stall with a cry of pain.
She jerked forward, but Eric immediately sent her back to the cold floor with a punch to the face.
"Stay down," he said calmly, summoning the cart of tools and injecting Iceheart with an anti-shock agent along with a dose of bacta. "We've only just begun."
To Isard's credit, she pulled herself together as soon as the medicine flowed through her veins.
"The 'Butcher' lives up to his nickname," she said in a slightly trembling voice. "So the agents didn't lie — you really did love her."
"Irene was the meaning of my life," Eric said, putting the cleaver away in the cart. In its place, he pulled out mechanical grippers, the kind used by ordinary technicians in their work. "And you took her from me."
He had seen this trick from a Rodian mercenary who captured Imperial cargo ships for the Rebel Alliance. And he didn't deny himself the pleasure of torturing the surviving crew members.
The flat 'lips' of the gripper closed on the tip of the nail of the index finger on the already injured right hand.
Eric, having secured the shot limb, pressed his thumb on the wound, and yanked the grippers with all his might.
The nail left the finger with a characteristic sound, making Isard wince in pain.
"Where is Baron Fel?" he asked quietly. "Ease your suffering — tell me where he is now. And then you will die quickly."
"Ah, so you don't know?" the woman laughed.
"You will tell me," the commodore declared confidently.
"Better ask Thrawn," Iceheart advised.
"I'm asking you."
"You're wasting your effort," she said. "I can endure pain much greater than this."
Eric, with an indifferent face, tore off the second nail.
A grimace of pain contorted Isard's face, which she, however, quickly suppressed.
"Not very painful," she smiled tensely.
"If that were true, you wouldn't have said it," Shohashi stated reasonably, starting on the third nail.
* * *
Asajj felt irritation when the turbolift doors slid open and a guardsman in blue-black armor unceremoniously pointed her to the exit.
And in the ship's corridor, four soldiers in similar armor were already waiting for her.
Except instead of blue colors, their coloring was gold-black, which suggested that these guys were from a different unit of the Dominion Guard.
"So I take it you won't answer my questions 'Where are we?' and 'Where are we going?' again?" she asked, trying to open herself to the Force.
No result.
The guardsman, wasting no time, shoved her in the shoulder, clearing the cabin.
The woman was about to tell him everything she thought about such treatment, but remained silent, seeing how professionally the guards moved and acted.
She chose to move silently along the corridor, noting on the way that the slight, barely perceptible vibration of the deck, the characteristic elements of the interior and design indicated that she was on a ship.
But which one, why she was taken to a transport shuttle and sent into the unknown immediately after Shohashi left the Crimson Dawn, leaving it and all the ships of the squadron at the sector fleet base, as well as many other questions remained unanswered for her.
The woman noted that she was moving exclusively through empty passages where there was not a soul.
And this despite the fact that everywhere there were traces of sentient work — fresh welding seams, unfinished laying of power system elements, incomplete installation of control displays and panels.
Whatever starship she had arrived on, it was in the final stages of repair.
Or construction.
Or perhaps what she saw was exclusive to this part of the ship, and beyond the current area there could be little more than a bare construction kit and a depressurized hull.
The journey did not take long, but in the end, the five guardsmen who had kept her in a 'box' stopped at the threshold of massive doors leading, if she understood correctly, to the bridge of a warship.
With the traditional hiss of armored bulkhead drives, the massive doors slid apart, opening the way to where she had assumed.
This bridge was several times larger than the one on the Imperial-class and roughly twice the area of the Crimson Dawn's bridge.
But the characteristic Imperial design was unmistakable.
However, instead of spacious transparisteel viewports, the woman could see openings sealed by thick armored hatches.
Given that she could not see any fastenings anywhere, one could conclude that the armor panels lowered from special grooves.
Which, as far as she knew, was not provided for on Imperial ships.
Therefore, she had been taken either to a ship not of Imperial manufacture, or...
Ah no, that's right, she was on an Imperial ship.
Though these Imperials call themselves 'Dominionites'.
And there, on the central platform, in a massive high-backed chair, staring intently at one of the monitors, sat the most important Dominionite.
Moreover, the information output device, contrary to usual practice, was embedded in the armrest of the chair so as to face the being sitting in it.
And Thrawn had deliberately turned his comfortable seat so that he faced the entrants, and Asajj could not see what was displayed on the screen.
And she wanted to very much.
Because from there came very characteristic sounds of torture.
"Welcome, Lady Ventress," Thrawn greeted her quietly, without even moving.
"And the same to you, Grand Admiral," the Dathomirian witch encountered the piercing gaze of the gray-skinned creature. The Noghri bodyguard stood just behind the back of the chair on which Thrawn sat.
But Asajj was not so stupid as to not understand a simple truth — this alien was just as dangerous as the guardsmen who had led her here.
"I hope your journey was pleasant?" the Chiss asked the woman.
"I wasn't thrown out an airlock, wasn't put in chains or shock cuffs, wasn't drawn and quartered, and was even fed during the flight," Ventress snorted.
"Nothing to worry about," Thrawn declared, continuing to ignore her with his gaze. "If you wish to experience all of that, just ask."
And they say the Grand Admiral knows how to joke.
How do they...
Oh, you!
Fine, blue-face, let's consider it one-all in black humor between us, Ventress thought.
"I hope you at least will explain to me why I was brought here?" she asked.
"Gladly, since you decided to ask," Thrawn answered, finally tearing himself away from the monitor and looking at her over the device. "Tell me, what do you think of Commodore Shohashi?"
"I thought that according to Imperial regulations, discussing one's direct superior was taboo," the Dathomirian drew a crooked smirk on her face.
"With subordinates, other officers, but not with higher command," Thrawn corrected her. "So, I am waiting for an answer."
"I'm not a staff psychologist," Ventress shrugged. "I'm a commander of ground forces. Shohashi gives me orders, I carry them out in the most efficient way possible."
"And that is excellent," Thrawn praised her in a voice usually used to pay respects to the deceased at funerals. "But that is not what I asked."
"I have seen commanders much stupider than him, and I have seen those smarter. He is a good commander, acts with minimal risk. He deliberately distances himself from subordinates to be able to resort to the formalities of regulations. I won't say the crew is exactly afraid of him, but they prefer to follow the prescribed rules — and then they won't have any problems. But I will also say that Shohashi values initiative in subordinates. But most of all, he cherishes his solitude. I know only a couple of sentients with whom he is warmer than the surface of Hoth."
"Your observations are valuable," Thrawn said. "Do you know the reason for his emotional detachment?"
"I don't care," Ventress admitted honestly. "As I see it, that's what helps him act correctly — with minimal losses and damage, he defeated a numerically superior enemy force in the last battle."
"And you are not at all interested in how he came to be this way?" Thrawn wondered.
"I'm not going to raise children with him," Ventress grimaced. "I am quite satisfied that he commands excellently, always supports the ground forces with fire, and I don't have to wait an hour for the artillerymen to deign to deliver an orbital strike where it's needed."
"In that case, it's in your own best interest to see to your commander's peace of mind." Thrawn rotated the monitor along its vertical axis so the Dathomirian witch could see what was happening on the screen.
She watched the scene silently for several minutes, then looked into the Grand Admiral's burning eyes.
"Torture is clearly not his strong suit," she declared.
"You think so?"
"No inventiveness," the woman explained her point of view. "It's obvious that bitch is prepared to endure even worse. It's written all over her face."
"What kind of information do you think he wants to get from her?" the Chiss asked, studying the Dathomirian.
"No idea," she admitted. "But judging by the fact that he's 'asking questions' personally, and even using special tools, his questions are clearly sharp, deeply felt, and personal."
"The woman in the video is Ysanne Isard," said Thrawn. "Former Director of Imperial Intelligence. Several years ago, she killed the woman Commodore Shoashi loved."
Ventress looked at the scene from a different angle.
"I doubt that," she said, inwardly lamenting that Thrawn had deliberately removed the audio from the video. "From her face, it's clear that this lady could, but doesn't dirty her hands with that kind of thing. Especially the Director of Intelligence. She obviously gave the order, so... I think Shoashi is interested in the reasons for such an act or the location of the one who carried it out."
"You're right," the Grand Admiral confirmed her conclusions. "The commodore's beloved was an aristocrat, a pilot. She was killed by one of the Empire's famous ace pilots, Baron Soontir Fel. He and his subordinates are the pilots of the 181st Fighter Wing."
"Some aristocrat, if they sent an entire fighter wing after her," Ventress snorted. "So after all—why am I here?"
"To give your expert opinion," said Thrawn.
"My pilots didn't kill anyone's beloved," Asajj laughed silently. But she immediately stopped when she saw the obsidian knife in the Noghri's hands. Such knives had been used in the past by rare bounty hunters, and now they were part of the standard equipment of stormtroopers. A deadly thing, especially in experienced hands.
And the woman had no doubt that the Noghri was a pro with such a weapon.
But she, without the Force, might not be able to defend herself in time.
"All the better," declared Thrawn. "However, you spent a long time taking revenge on the Jedi for personal reasons. And then you moved away from that practice. Why?"
"I was betrayed, the Order was exterminated, the CIS lost, and Vader and Palpatine together started remaking the galaxy."
"So the personal wasn't that important to you, since you gave up such a 'hunt'?"
"Now I don't care anymore," Ventress admitted. "I serve the state that employs Jedi as well. After so many years of chasing them... No thanks, I have more interesting things to do."
"Did you feel satisfaction when you learned the Jedi were essentially destroyed?" asked Thrawn.
"None at all," Ventress admitted. "And, I must say, after the first couple of months of hunting Jedi during the Clone Wars, my enthusiasm had already waned."
"So why did you continue?" the Grand Admiral inquired.
"Now that's my own business," Ventress snapped unexpectedly, instinctively tensing.
"I agree," Thrawn replied calmly. "But I think you and Shoashi have something in common."
"A luxurious hairstyle?" Ventress lifted her chin, smoothing down her overgrown head.
The Grand Admiral's lips remained expressionless, though the joke warranted at least a smile.
"Personal vengeance," said Thrawn. "And the ways to survive the emotional collapse after it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Asajj's cheerful mood instantly evaporated.
"About the emotional burnout that pursues everyone who sets out on the path of personal vengeance and devotes their life to it, only to face dissatisfaction upon achieving the result," Thrawn said softly and insinuatingly. "And about the aimless search for self that pursued you in the years following the destruction of the Jedi Order. Finally, about what led you to self-exile and subsequent avoidance of sentients. Decades of loneliness, emotional detachment, and searching for yourself. Isn't that what the end result of your path as Count Dooku's acolyte was, Lady Ventress? Please add if I missed anything."
The Dathomirian witch's features sharpened.
"Don't think you know me, Thrawn," she warned. "Your words are nothing but words."
"Indeed?" the Grand Admiral clarified. "One word, and the guard will deal with you."
"As I recall, I single-handedly wiped out most of the Sun Guard," Ventress snorted, glancing at the guardsmen and Noghri. "I don't think these guys are much different."
Though she didn't mention that at that time she wasn't limited in the Force as she was now.
Some things should be kept in reserve.
"Or, one word, and you'll be given complete freedom," the Grand Admiral continued as if nothing had happened. "You've been a simple acolyte, a champion of the Dark Side, for too long. And now you're a subordinate. But that can change—you need only agree to my terms."
"And what exactly do you want to offer me?" Ventress grew interested.
"Knowledge," Thrawn replied simply. "An independent command position. You can join the elite forces under my sole control."
"And Tano is already there, isn't she?" Asajj clarified.
"Does that change anything?" the Grand Admiral asked.
"I don't have much desire to work side by side with her," the Dathomirian declared. "And as for knowledge... What can you, a simple sentient, tell me about the Force and the mastery of the Sith?"
"Me?" Thrawn clarified. "Nothing."
"Well, there you go."
"However, it is within my power to put data from Sith or Jedi holocrons at your disposal," Thrawn's voice didn't change a tone, but adrenaline drums started pounding in Asajj's ears.
"Where did you get them?" she licked her dry lips.
"I think you understand that I have reasons not to disseminate that information," said the Grand Admiral. "But rest assured, several holocrons are available to the Jensaarai Order."
"Jedi ones?" the Dathomirian winced.
"They are over a thousand years old," Thrawn said calmly. "And they contain a great deal of information that will be useful to you. Not to mention how much Sith and Jedi knowledge is at Darth Sidious's disposal."
"He's dead," Ventress said cautiously.
"You were also considered dead all these years," Thrawn offered. "However, perhaps you yourself would want to fight the Emperor and remind him of how he treated you while you served Count Dooku."
"What do I need to do?" Ventress asked quickly.
"Whatever it takes to keep Shoashi from turning his life into a battle for revenge," Thrawn declared. "Actually, I don't care if he kills Isard or Baron Fel or tortures them. Or lets them go in peace. For me and the Dominion, the main thing is that this sentient continues to serve and remain an effective commander. This," Thrawn removed a small data chip from the armrest, "will be sufficient as an advance."
"And what is it?" Ventress asked.
"A description of a technique known as Force Lightning," said the Grand Admiral. "As far as I know, you have not been trained in it. Although many Force-sensitive beings believe that lightning is practically the calling card of those who follow the Dark Side of your philosophy."
Asajj licked her suddenly dry lips and stepped forward, taking the data storage device from the Grand Admiral's snow-white glove.
"I want freedom as a Dominion commander," she said. "And the knowledge you promised. And the problem with your Shoashi, who is about to live up to his nickname, will be solved."
"As I mentioned, one word from me is enough," Thrawn reminded. "Stop his emotional burnout, and we'll consider it a deal."
Nodding in agreement, Ventress tucked the data chip into a hidden pocket and nodded toward the exit from the bridge:
"I hope he's nearby and I can intervene in time?"
"Of course," Thrawn assured her. "That's what this was all about."
* * *
For a long time, he thought nothing was more humiliating than patrolling a system no one was going to attack.
Ah, no. Apparently, there is.
Escorting trucks with repulsor equipment from the Kelada system in the Duluur sector to the Chasin system. And accompanying the empty freighters back. Then, flying with them to another point in the galaxy. After that—back to Kelada for a new load.
Stupid, boring, utterly disgraceful work unworthy of a military officer.
Work that made Captain Dobramu ready to explode.
First, patrol.
Then, guarding ships that placed space rocks on the borders of the Dominion's metropolis.
Now—commanding an escort for a transport convoy!
Oh, strike me down, Jedi, how low this is!
Especially when Thrawn even takes those Hutt Corellian gunships to confrontations with the New Republic!
And he distributed the Strike-class medium cruisers between the metropolises for patrolling and escorting trucks. For fighting single pirates and New Republic raiders.
Who were fewer and fewer every day.
Great!
Just brilliant!
A magnificent career!
Was it even worth getting captain's command boards if things stood like this?
Akrey had grown accustomed to running such thoughts through his head while remaining outwardly calm and imperturbable.
Especially when Kam Solusar—the plenipotentiary representative of Emperor Palpatine—was aboard his ship.
And right now, while command was settling a new delivery and escort schedule, the representative of the Dark Side Elite was reviewing the data on the data chips Dobramu had given him.
"Is that all?" Solusar inquired, turning off the datapad.
"Yes," Akrey answered. "The precise coordinates for placing camouflaged asteroids on the Dominion's borders. Placed along all hyperspace routes passing through this Remnant. In their current state, they're useless because they lack sufficient mass to drag starships out of hyperspace."
"Then why is Thrawn spending so much resources and time on these space rocks?" Solusar became interested.
"I'm not briefed on the details, but I suspect that over time, gravity well generators will be placed behind these minefields, which will pull ships out of hyperspace that Thrawn doesn't want to see in the metropolis," Dobramu explained. "So the starships will end up right in the middle of an invisible minefield. And a starship colliding with a rock is fraught with significant problems. Not to mention that the inside of the asteroids is filled with explosive material. What even small rocks with such 'filling' can do, you could see during the siege of Coruscant by Thrawn a few weeks ago."
"Yes, an effective weapon," Solusar agreed. "Were you able to find out what camouflage technology they use on these asteroids?"
"No," Dobramu shook his head. "But scanning doesn't detect the rocks in visual or any other spectrum."
"Even with mass detectors?" the Dark Side Elite representative was surprised.
"I don't have those sensors on my ship," Dobramu stated. "And the technicians working with the asteroids on the trucks are as talkative as Hutts are virtuoso dancers. They cite secrecy and don't engage."
"Where are these installations produced?"
"Also secret."
"Have you seen even one of them before they activated the camouflage field?"
"I haven't even seen the asteroids," Akrey admitted. "I only know from the transport crews' own words and from the data of the tractor beams of the transports used for the installation."
"In other words, Thrawn doesn't trust you enough to let you in on his plan," Solusar concluded.
"As well as the commanders and crews of the other medium cruisers," Dobramu added. "He's purposefully keeping us out of his campaigns."
"Which certainly has its reflection on the loyalty of the crews, doesn't it?" Kam clarified.
"That's right," Dobramu confirmed.
"Well then," Solusar concluded, "you've done excellent work, Captain. As far as I know, you have another escort duty ahead?"
"Yes," Akrey winced.
"How many cruiser commanders can you vouch for as loyal to the New Order and the Emperor?" the man asked.
"Pretty much all of them," said Dobramu. "They serve honorably, though with little combat experience. But if the Emperor commands, we'll do everything to keep him satisfied."
"Good," said Solusar, rising from his chair. "In that case, I think you should contact them and set a date, course, and meeting point."
Akrey felt his fingers begin to tremble.
"Is it what I think it is?" he clarified. "Is the Emperor summoning us?"
"Yes," Solusar answered. "Be prepared to drop your duties with Thrawn and immediately take command of ships in the Emperor's fleet. We have certain problems with command positions, so unlike your service to Thrawn, the Emperor will clearly appreciate you at your worth."
"You've said something similar to me before," Akrey stated. "I'm still waiting, waiting..."
"Then you haven't been listening carefully," Solusar replied sternly, his amber irises flashing. "I just said: prepare to join the Emperor's fleet."
"And you tell me that every time you come aboard my ship," Dobramu thought irritably, feeling he was just being led around to get more and more data on Thrawn and the Dominion.
"I only need to contact the other medium cruiser commanders, and they'll all immediately cease their service to the Dominion," Akrey emphasized his importance. "Name the time and place—and we'll be there."
"That sounds like a challenge and distrust of my words," Solusar stated, putting the chips into his pocket.
"I'm sorry you see it that way, but in all our cooperation I haven't received a single confirmation that the Emperor actually needs me as a military officer and not a spy," Dobramu ground his teeth. "I'm tired of waiting. Tired of all these verbal promises that almost never come true. I'm sick of Thrawn wiping his feet on me like I'm some misbehaving cabin boy. I serve the Emperor and expected from him what you promised—recognition, power, strength commensurate with my talents. But I've received exactly nothing except words."
"Is that so?" Solusar's face broke into a smile. "Do you doubt that the Emperor even knows of your participation?"
"I don't doubt the Emperor," Akrey made clear. "I don't understand your delay, Solusar. With the data I've given you, Thrawn could be destroyed easily. But you keep stalling. Though it's a matter of a couple of months at most. If I had suitable ships at my disposal, then..."
"And what would you do if you were given ships and means to settle your score with Thrawn?"
"I'd crush the alien like a pathetic insect," Akrey growled. "And burn with turbolasers anyone who dared oppose me."
"Even so," the Palpatine representative chuckled. "Well then, let's see if your," he emphasized the word, "words match your deeds. Contact the other Strike captains. Tell them to be ready to leave service immediately and arrive at the planet Vjun, coordinates I'll dictate to you now. From there we'll go straight to the Emperor. My work in the galaxy is done, as is my comrades'. It's time to present our lord with the last pieces of information he needs, after which you'll receive what you're due. Rest assured. I will personally petition for your promotion before the Emperor. And if you or your colleagues let him down, as many Imperials already have, something worse than death awaits you."
Akrey swallowed the lump that had lodged in his throat.
He felt a little scared.
And he also understood why the Emperor had personnel problems—they obviously didn't meet the high standards.
But he was confident in himself.
"Don't worry, Master Solusar," he asked. "You won't have to worry about me."
* * *
Eric heard the door open behind him.
"Don't go anywhere," he said to the woman half-sitting against the wall.
Though, bloodied and trembling from involuntary muscle contractions, Ysanne Isard little resembled her former self.
And if you didn't know who this was, what species, gender, or race she belonged to, you might not recognize the bloody body, whose limbs were broken so thoroughly that any torturer would be jealous.
"Lady Ventress?" Eric raised an eyebrow, looking at the entering Dathomirian witch.
"Commodore Shoashi," she nodded in return. "I see your leave is going rather... bloodily."
"By what right are you here?" the officer asked, wiping his bloodied tools with a rag.
"You could call it a sense of compassion or something like that," she said. "Grand Admiral Thrawn authorized my access to this room."
"And is that all he asked you to do?" Eric asked nervously, glancing at the bloody body that was staring at him with its one remaining hate-filled eye.
Once, such a look would have made him uneasy, but now...
Just ordinary eyes.
Nothing new.
"We made a deal," Ventress said reluctantly.
"Is that so," Eric, who had already heard plenty from the Iceheart, began to take off his blood-stained protective suit. "Let me guess—he promised you something in exchange for you talking me out of continuing my search, didn't he?"
If Ventress was surprised by his insight, she didn't show it.
"Actually, not exactly," she said. "I got some concessions for myself in exchange for keeping you from burning out emotionally on your revenge."
"Interesting," Eric got rid of the suit, stuffing it into the trash bin at the bottom of the repulsor tool cart. "And how do you intend to do that? Use the Force?"
He unequivocally drew his blaster from its holster and aimed it at the Dathomirian's stomach.
She, correctly assessing where the shot would land, looked the man in the eye:
"No, my Force is blocked."
"What curious games," came from Isard's direction. "And they call me a dirty manip..."
She couldn't finish—a blaster shot from Shoashi put a hole in her head not provided for by the biology of the human species.
The commodore himself, limping and leaning on a cane, limped out of the compartment, discarding the blaster that the Dominion guardsmen would obviously never have let him leave with.
"Was it worth cutting her up like a piece of meat if the goal was still to kill her?" Ventress asked, catching up with him already outside the door.
"I needed information, and I got it," said Shoashi.
"Judging by your talkativeness, you acquired more than you wanted," Ventress remarked.
"Far too much," Eric replied, feeling the edges of the cane's pommel dig into the skin of his palm. "And I have questions I want answered. Immediately."
Asajj glanced at the Dominion guardsmen in gold-and-black armor walking a couple meters behind them.
"Are you sure you can get answers and stay alive?" she asked a little more quietly.
"That doesn't matter," Eric cut off.
"I disagree," Ventress countered. "It does."
"No," the commodore hissed through his teeth. "I've waited too long. Done far too much to fulfill my part of the deal. Only to find out that he's literally right next to me! Reach out and break the bastard's neck! Thrawn played me to make me do what he wanted! Manipulated me!"
Ventress took a few quick steps forward, turning so she was in the way of the Crimson Dawn's commander.
Her face now showed anything but goodwill.
"Out of my way!"
"May you eat Gungan tongues for breakfast, Shoashi, what are you doing?!" she hissed.
"Going for answers!"
"You're going to Thrawn with grievances, on his ship, surrounded by his guardsmen, unarmed, without support! One against someone who planned the slaughter of armed forces that outnumbered his own fleet dozens of times!" Asajj's voice was like a snake's hiss. "Stop it, you can't be serious?!"
"Never more so," Eric stepped close to her. "Get out of my way, Lady Ventress, or I'll move you."
Asajj did not comply with her commander's wish.
Instead, she kicked, sweeping Shoashi's support—his cane—out from under him.
The officer lurched forward, swaying, and grabbed hold of her to keep from falling to the deck.
Credit where it's due—it took him only a few seconds to pull away without meeting her eyes, thus avoiding any awkwardness related to where his limbs had landed on her body.
"Do that again, and I'll order you thrown out the airlock," Shoashi said as if nothing had happened, reclaiming his cane, lifting it from the deck, and leaning on it as if nothing remarkable had occurred.
"Use your head, Eric!" she advised. "I don't know what that lady told you, but at the very least she could have lied. At most, distorted the facts. If you go to Thrawn with accusations, start frothing at the mouth trying to prove your unformed and unsupported point of view, who will it hurt more?"
"Stay out of my business, Lady Ventress," Eric said, barely restraining himself from shouting. "This. Is. My. Personal. Business."
"Then I advise you to remember that all these 'personal businesses' have never ended well for anyone," Ventress hissed in a whisper. "Even if that Isard was a dozen times right and Thrawn hid something from you, do you really think it's worth it?"
"I think I deserve answers!" Eric barked. "I've been fighting for him for a year and a half! A year and a half risking my life and my crew's, doing whatever he says. Because he promised me Fel! Promised to find him and deliver him to me, let me cut the bastard's heart out! And what do I find? That the Baron was with him all along! Isard transferred Fel to Thrawn in exchange for help with planning after fleeing Coruscant! She escaped the Imperial Center and captured the Lusankya on his orders! He promised me Isard..."
"And you got her."
"Really? Turns out she has a clone. And it works for Thrawn. And where's the guarantee that I just dealt with the original responsible for all of this, and not another copy of hers?" Eric clenched the head of his cane so hard his hand turned white.
Asajj forced a weary smile from herself.
"And that's all?" she asked with mockery. "Did I torture the right one? They didn't give me the pilot I wanted to kill, I'm upset!" Shohashi, you're a combat officer! The unfeeling Butcher of Atoa! What's with all this sentimentality?"
"Don't speak as if you know me, Lady Ventress," Shohashi shook his head in warning. "I've survived betrayal by my brother-in-law and a crew mutiny. I've cut down enemy ship crews for insubordination and turned their reactors into supernovas, so..."
The Dathomirian witch rolled her eyes.
"Shall we now whine about life's failures?" she suggested. "As if I'm not familiar with betrayal, attempted murder, captivity, arranging local orbital bombardments, chemical attacks, gutting enemies, and so on down the list! It all looks pathetic..."
"Then don't look," Shohashi growled. "Get out of my way."
"And I won't budge an inch," the woman jabbed a finger at the commodore's chest. "I've been serving under your command for weeks, you pompous Alderaanian ass. I put up with being treated like a mercenary, when I could snap your neck and your underlings' necks, take your ship, and get the hell out of this mess! I've commanded fleet operations at the level of state confrontations, besieged more planets than you could ever hope to see. I fought Darth Vader before he dressed up in his stylish black costume and had slightly more original limbs than the galaxy knows! And I will not let you just walk over there," she jerked her head toward the end of the corridor, "and start heart-to-heart talks with the Grand Admiral. I want my freedom and I'll get it. Along with the knowledge I need for personal growth. And if that means hammering a basic truth into your suddenly emotional head, I'll do it. With my feet. On your face. Or I'll break your knees."
"This is mutiny, Lady Ventress," Shohashi hissed. "I'll have you arrested the moment we get back to the Crimson Dawn."
"I won't give a damn by then," Ventress snorted. "You clearly won't survive this day if you go to Thrawn with accusations now. Pull yourself together, Eric, think with your head, not your emotions! Trust my experience — there's nothing good in it. I slaughtered entire armies out of a surreal grudge against the Jedi because they didn't come to my mentor's aid..."
"I don't care about your past in the slightest," Shohashi flinched. "I'll get what I want. Period. Get out of my way. That's my final request."
And his voice grew harder, sharper...
The way the crew of the Crimson Dawn knew it.
It seemed there was some progress after all.
Time to hit where it hurt.
Asajj took a sliding step to the side, and the Alderaanian marched on down the corridor.
"Go on, go on," the Dathomirian witch said mockingly. "You'll undoubtedly get what you deserve. And after Thrawn's gray-skinned bodyguard kills you, I'll request command of the Crimson Dawn. And I'll tell the crew what a hypocritical egotist their commander is — a man who spent years pretending to be a level-headed professional, but the moment he heard another egotist had tricked him, he got offended like a Jedi Padawan at the Order's High Council and marched off without any plan toward his dream. When Brandei gets back on his feet, what do you think he'll do the first thing, learning that Thrawn executed you? Will he stay loyal to the Grand Admiral's orders, or try to desert? To join his enemies and avenge your uselessly wasted life."
The blow hit its mark — the Alderaanian froze in his tracks.
Excellent.
So she hadn't forgotten everything about Sith manipulation arts after all.
"Go to your sister, Eric," Ventress continued in the same venomous tone. "Tell her how your little heart aches because Thrawn turned out to be a bit cleverer — giving you one Isard while keeping the other for himself. Share your suspicions with her that you tortured a woman who might not have been the one who ordered your beloved's death. Definitely don't leave out the part where you — who treated me like a cadet — got offended that your direct superior didn't hand over all his secrets on the first day. Maybe at least someone in your family has a truly cool head, and she'll understand that Thrawn is right in his own way, while you've been carrying your revenge around for years only because deep down you're a little boy, offended at the whole world, who set himself a goal: find and destroy everyone responsible for your loved one's death. And then think about why Thrawn managed to find this very Isard in such a short time, while you accomplished nothing in years. Something tells me you didn't actually want to reach the result, because you're a smart guy and you understand that if you throw yourself entirely into this revenge, with their deaths you'll hit a dead end. And right now you're just looking for an excuse to use Thrawn's actions to find a new object of hatred. Because you can't do otherwise. You've cornered yourself, Shohashi. And when someone extends a hand to pull you out, you proudly shake your head and say you'll do it yourself... You won't believe how familiar that is to me. I'd tell you what rock bottom all this pursuit of personal satisfaction for vengeance dragged me to, but you asked me to shut up yourself. As you wish, Commodore."
She gave a mock salute.
The commodore spun sharply over his left shoulder, staring intently at the Dathomirian witch standing before him.
"Go on, then," Ventress's features formed into an insultingly sweet little smile, "say something like 'Three extra duty shifts!' or 'Don't you dare leave your quarters after lights out!' or something in that vein. Show me you really are an offended little boy who crawled into his shell of formalism and combat regulations because it's easier to live that way, sitting in the corner in the evenings, hugging yourself, wiping away tears, muttering about how you'll get revenge on those you couldn't find."
Shohashi looked at her with an icy gaze.
Completely calm, one might even say unruffled.
His posture said his body was tense, but he was clearly forcing himself not to say something Ventress could interpret as her victory.
"Are you done?" he clarified.
"We've only just begun," Ventress blinked her eyes with the same mocking little smile. "You have no idea what a charming destroyer of logic and sanity I can be when I'm in a good mood. If you were thirty years younger and a Jedi, your whole robe would be soaked through to the boots with sweat at the mere sight of me."
"I don't doubt it," Shohashi nodded barely noticeably. "With a smooth skull and a vocabulary flow at the high school level, you're fit only to scare children, Lady Ventress."
The woman's face twisted into an irritated grimace.
"Oh, with what pleasure I'd beat all the crap out of you, Shohashi," she said dreamily, demonstratively cracking her knuckles. "I don't forgive such insults. To anyone."
"The feeling is mutual, Lady Ventress," the Alderaanian clipped out in a tone so cold it seemed the temperature in the corridor dropped several degrees. "I suggest you practice your hand-to-hand combat. Because after I'm done with Thrawn, I'll hold you accountable for every word you've said. For mentioning Niclara and Brandei — doubly so."
Asajj graced him with her signature little smile.
"Commodore, if you survive this day, I'll have enough strength to roast you like nerf meat."
"We'll see about that," Shohashi declared, turning his back to her. "And one more thing, Lady Ventress. Three extra shifts in the galley without droid assistance for each instance of disciplinary violation."
"I'm running so fast the wind blows the hair right off my head," Ventress snorted.
"And I was wondering what the problem was..." Shohashi said meaningfully, resuming his path.
Asajj stood for a few seconds, trying to think of a cutting reply, but then figuratively waved her hand at what had happened.
She wasn't going to shout at the back of a man fifty meters away, was she?
That would make her look very stupid.
She watched the departing guardsmen with her gaze, then calmly and imperturbably strode toward her waiting escort.
She had fulfilled her part of the deal with Thrawn, and the rest was none of her concern.
Whether she had knocked some sense into the commodore or not didn't really matter.
She had the description of the Force Lightning technique, and for a start, that was enough.
At the very least, it would suffice to give a good smoke to one insolent Togruta who annoyed every sane being just by existing in the universe.
* * *
"You managed rather quickly, Commodore Shohashi," I said, watching the aforementioned officer lower himself into the chair opposite me. "I suspect you finished almost immediately after I left the compartment. Given your mood, I assumed Isard's death would not end so simply."
The Alderaanian sat with his back straight, leaning his cane, topped with a large precious stone, beside him.
Outwardly calm, one might even say unflappable, the man looked me in the eyes without fear.
In the sparse lighting of my quarters in the residence previously belonging to the Moff of the Morshdine Sector, his gray uniform seemed part of the semidarkness surrounding us.
A fairly spacious room compared to the compartments on the Chimaera, dimly lit by a few light panels.
I had settled here for the time I needed to study the operation of the industrial and other facilities located on the surface of the planet Tangrene.
"Sir, is it true?" Shohashi asked without any preamble.
"That depends on what you're asking about, Commodore," I noted.
"I assume you observed Isard's execution and know what she told me," the Alderaanian said, pursing his lips.
I naturally had no intention of denying anything for any reason.
"I am aware of it," I confirmed. "But that doesn't change the fact that to get the right answer, you need to ask the right question."
The commodore bore into me with his gaze for a few seconds, then finally decided to ask:
"Was Baron Fel really transferred by Isard to your command?"
Technically — not to mine, but to Mitth'raw'nuruodo's.
But there was a nuance.
"Yes," I replied.
"And at the time you promised to hand him over to me as payment for my service, did you know where he was?"
Again — a double answer.
But you couldn't explain everything.
"At present, he is part of the command of the forces left in the Unknown Regions," I confirmed.
"And you could easily have summoned him here to fulfill your promise," the Alderaanian's voice trembled almost imperceptibly.
"From a technical standpoint, nothing prevented it," I said. "Just as nothing prevented me from giving you the clone of Isard and claiming it was the original. Judging by how events unfolded, those nuances were of no interest to you."
The man silently listened to the barely veiled reproach, then stated:
"Then why are you delaying?" he asked. "Is there some fault in my service that allows you to renege on your word?"
"Your service and dedication to duty are impeccable, Commodore," I declared. "However, eliminating Baron Fel at this moment would be a strike against the strategic interests of the entire operation in the Unknown Regions."
"And this operation is more important than the immediate fulfillment of your promise?" Shohashi asked.
"Do you have grounds to reproach me for breaking my word?" I inquired.
"You could have given me the clone of Isard," Eric reminded me. "If the Iceheart's words are to be believed, the clone has been loaded with memories relating to the period of Iran Ryad's death."
"So we are to judge every clone for the actions of its donor?" I inquired.
"No, sir," Shohashi sighed. "I understand the clone is not to blame — regarding the Red Star's death. I understand why you didn't hand her over to me to formally fulfill part of your promise, but..."
The man licked his lips and fell silent.
"I had, and have, no desire to mislead allies," I explained. "Our agreement concerned Isard and Fel. You have already received the first — immediately after she was captured and the opportunity arose to remove her from the campaign without damaging the overall plan. The same will happen with Fel."
Shohashi was silent, staring somewhere at the floor in front of him.
I did not interfere with his sorting through his own thoughts.
"May I speak frankly, sir?" he asked.
"That is assumed by default, Commodore."
"Some time ago, I had a very substantive dialogue with Lady Ventress," the officer said. "Without going into details, she stated that she had once walked roughly the same life path as I have. Given that you sent her to me for a preventive conversation, a reasonable assumption arises that the transfer of the Dathomirian witch to my command also pursued additional goals beyond appointing a ground force commander for my assigned ships."
"That is correct," I confirmed. "Sooner or later, we would have come to this conversation. I value and respect you too much, Commodore, to lose you to an emotional breakdown. Lady Ventress has a certain positive experience in overcoming a similar crisis. I believed, and believe, that your joint service would help you personally break free from the psychological trap of prolonged revenge and emotional burnout."
"Does that mean Baron Fel, due to his importance to your plans in the Unknown Regions, will not be handed over to me for satisfaction?" the Alderaanian asked.
"No, it does not," I refuted the assumption. "The situation in the Unknown Regions is dire. There are threats present that cannot be dealt with without having competent officers in command. These are the considerations guiding me in delaying your meeting with the Baron. As soon as I find a suitable replacement for him among the pilots, you will get what you want."
"Such a rotation could take years," Shohashi noted.
"Highly unlikely," I countered. "At present, I have a fairly large number of potential candidates. Unfortunately, however, they lack the Baron's flight mastery or experience. The plan was that Isard's captured subordinate, Colonel Wessiri, after cloning and appropriate ideological preparation, would take Soontir Fel's place in the Unknown Regions. And you would receive the Baron, as previously agreed. Unfortunately, the excesses of the Lusankya capture team resulted in the colonel's death before his memory matrix could be obtained."
"But you could clone him and implant Fel's memories into the consciousness," Shohashi suggested.
"We have already identified the detrimental nature of such a method," I declared. "Using the example of clones created under Colonel Celid's unauthorized GeNod program. A mismatch between the memory matrix and the biological body will lead to skill degradation and reduced clone effectiveness. At present, I have assigned the task of finding cloning specialists to solve this problem, but there are certain difficulties in implementing this plan."
"You could clone Fel and give me the clone for my vendetta," Shohashi repeated his idea.
"That is precisely why I invited you to observe the conversation between Isard's clone and my agent," I explained. "Same face, same memories — but is the clone truly guilty of the original's actions? Does it repeat its fate, or is it an entirely different living being with the right to an independent life? Using the example of Isard-Two, we can conclude that she, albeit not without flaws, is on our side. While the real Isard is exclusively loyal to the Emperor. A curious casus like that."
Shohashi nodded in understanding.
"Anticipating your next question, I will say that the idea of cloning Fel, handing you the original, and placing the clone in his position also has its drawbacks," I informed him. "Clones age rather quickly, and after some time we will have to replace them. Or solve the problem of their shortened life cycle through genetics. But only specialized specialists can help us with that. Of whom, unfortunately, there are few in the galaxy. This is among the reasons we are moving toward conflict with the Zann Consortium."
"Sir?" Shohashi grew interested.
"Based on my reasoning, Zann's militants control such planets as Rothana and Kamino," I explained. "The ships you fought at Hypori were evidently built at the facilities of Rothana Heavy Engineering. And the Kaminoans, during the Clone Wars, supplied personnel to the Grand Army of the Republic. And they are almost certainly now creating a clone army for the Consortium."
"The Kaminoans are the most obvious candidates for 'specialized specialists,'" Shohashi nodded.
"Precisely," I agreed. "Therefore, eliminating the Zann Consortium is one of the subsequent objectives. I believe you understand that by the time the new campaign concludes, I will either have a replacement for the Baron or the ability to clone him without worrying that the double will turn into a decrepit old man in a few years. Since the territories defended by Baron Fel and other Imperials are effectively isolated from the rest of the galaxy, the idea of supplying new Fel clones there as the old ones fail is also not entirely correct. As successfully extracting a memory matrix from a clone is practically impossible. And cloning a clone is pointless."
"Sounds like a stalemate in holochess," Shohashi offered an analogy.
"Not quite so categorical, but roughly similar in meaning," I agreed. "However, the ways to solve the problem have also been made known to you."
"That is true, sir," the commodore replied. "May I have an answer to the question of what dangers your forces in the Unknown Regions are facing?"
"The same ones as the Dominion," I informed him. "I left my base a year and a half ago with the firm conviction that I would serve the cause of the Empire. And the people who remained in the Unknown Regions also partly follow the ideals of the Empire. Palpatine's return is coming, and it would be foolish to involve them in this confrontation — desertion and plan leaks are possible. Not to mention that, besides Palpatine, there exists another threat. No less dangerous than the mad Emperor. And in fact, far more destructive."
"Can I learn more about it?"
"They call themselves the Yuuzhan Vong, and my people the 'Far Outsiders,'" I said. "A race from outside our galaxy, intending either to exterminate us or to subjugate us as slaves. Their scouts and advance forces have already been in the galaxy for a long time — and traces of their presence are being discovered. For example, in the Slave Pits of Lorrd, we obtained a sample of a genetically enhanced war beast capable of destroying ground forces in large numbers."
"So if they have many such beasts, our army, Stormtrooper Corps, and armor will suffer heavy losses?" Shohashi clarified.
"That is why I returned from the Unknown Regions," the explanation accompanied by another nod from the Alderaanian. "The forces I left in the Unknown Regions are, without a doubt, superbly prepared for war, but alone they cannot withstand an entire galaxy's population. I have the opportunity to accumulate strength by uniting the Imperials into a single fist. There is no hope for the New Republic — they will respond to the enemy's arrival only when it begins destroying the population of worlds. And while I care nothing for the population of the New Republic and our other foes, the Dominion and those who followed me must survive the coming hardships with minimal losses."
"That's why you're initiating ship modernization?" Shohashi understood. "Reducing crews means reducing losses. Increasing firepower means increasing offensive capabilities."
"In broad strokes, yes," I agreed. "The sooner we can identify our own weaknesses and strengths, the faster we can neutralize the former and amplify the latter. That is precisely what the specialists on Tangrene are doing — any Imperial or other technology that can help us defend or attack must be put into service. No exceptions. The question of survival takes priority over any ethics or fine words. But you will receive Fel no sooner than it becomes possible without risk to the entire campaign."
"And Baron Fel is that important to all of this?" Shohashi clarified.
"Unfortunately, yes," I said. "There are not many such virtuoso pilots in this galaxy. If I have no other options, I will clone him as many times as necessary to maintain superiority over the enemy."
The Alderaanian fell silent again.
We sat in silence for several minutes, and I began to think I had stopped hearing Shohashi move altogether.
"I hear you, sir," he said. And his voice sounded firm, confident, just as it had before.
"I'm glad we found common ground, Commodore," I said.
"That is true, sir," Shohashi agreed, rising. "I have one last question."
"Ask away."
"Lady Ventress can be quite persuasive at times," the Alderaanian said. "I don't think it will be easy for me to accept, but if Fel is that important, then my revenge can wait. Let him live. Until we eliminate the threats."
A choice that arises more and more frequently among my subordinates.
Duty versus personal preferences.
And, despite my initial concerns, the former prevails over the latter with superiority.
And now I am hardly surprised at the ferocity with which Imperials fought against the Republicans in the events I know.
There it was — the professional training of officers.
You just need to be nearby at the necessary moment and not let them stumble.
That is, to be not just a commander, but a father-commander.
The kind the Empire lacked, but the New Republic had in abundance.
Maybe that's how the Republicans managed to win against all logic of events.
"I'm glad I wasn't wrong about you," I said. "As far as I know, the ships of your squadron will soon be ready for deployment."
"Repairs will be completed within twenty-four hours," Eric confirmed. "Also, they should have time to install Consortium-design laser cannons on the Crimson Dawn to protect the bridge."
"That is good," I agreed. "Because we are moving to the next stage of the current campaign. You will depart immediately upon your return to the fleet base."
"Understood, sir." The officer standing before me now was as composed and unruffled as Master Yoda himself.
The "Butcher of Atoa" had returned.
Which meant it was time to proceed to the final phase of psychological conditioning.
"Before you leave, Commodore, you should get your uniform in order," I said, setting new command plaques on the table. "Additional units attached to your squadron are already awaiting you at the base, Rear Admiral."
The Alderaanian stared at me for several seconds.
I had no doubt that a storm of emotions, thoughts, and contradictory logical chains was raging inside his head right now.
His words would tell me whether he had truly decided to postpone his satisfaction with Fel until better times, guided by logic — which would mean the real return of the "Butcher" or whether he was playing psychological defense games, nursing his grudge.
"I serve the Dominion, sir," Shohashi rapped out.
No, he had definitely returned.
Well then... I almost felt sorry for his next target.
Almost.