Having listened to the story of the being sitting before him to the end, Seth just shook his head in delight.
"Brilliant!" From the joy overwhelming him, the man almost jumped in place, clapping his hands.
He looked at Arista's somber face, inwardly triumphant.
Walking up to her, he yanked on the handcuffs again, which still firmly restrained her movements.
The man couldn't believe his eyes — it was finally all over.
One blaster shot to the head, and the problems with his niece were resolved in the best possible outcome for him!
"How cleverly you fooled that girl!" he marveled at the words of the man sitting before him. "You saved her from the bounty hunter you yourself hired, planted the idea in her head that the Dominion would support her seizure of power in the sector, won her trust, and led her right to me! That calls for a drink!"
Seth ran to the decanter of Corellian whiskey and filled two glasses.
Returning to the coffee table, in front of which all three sat on soft sofas, the head of Kabul Industries handed one of them to the gentleman who, in just over a month, had solved problems that had existed for years!
"In broad terms, yes," the man in black armor nodded in agreement, without even touching the drink.
"But why did it take so long?" Kabul pressed on. "Over a month has passed since our meeting!"
"That's true," the man in black didn't deny. "But to complete the mission properly, I had to gain her trust thoroughly."
"You facilitated her and her accomplices breaking into my home?" Seth narrowed his eyes.
"I needed to secure their support," the man replied. "You'll get your files back as soon as an agreement is reached between you and the party I represent."
Like I even care, Seth thought.
As if he didn't have copies.
"You promised me support, Bravo-One!" Arista said reproachfully, shooting a venomous glare at the man sitting next to her.
"I did support you," the agent agreed easily. "Morally."
"I could tell you exactly where to shove that kind of support," the young woman snapped.
"Shut your mouth, niece," Seth growled at her.
Switching from a sour expression to that of a genial host, he looked at the man Arista had called "Bravo-One." "Is the issue with her 'friends' the terrorists resolved as well?"
"The Gamorrean and the Jawa?" the man clarified.
Receiving an affirmative, he replied:
"Yes, they're no longer a problem for Kabul Industries. The mines have nothing more to fear from them."
"Splendid," Seth clapped his hands. "Just splendid! You've solved a whole slew of problems for me at once."
"And I expect our arrangement to remain in effect," the man stated.
Seth shifted in his chair.
"A-a-ah," Arista drawled. "So that's it! You chose the path of least resistance! You made a deal with him to capture me, and in return he'll help the Dominion with ore?"
"That's the plan," the man agreed, not taking his eyes off Kabul across from him.
"He's just a womp rat without a mind of his own," the young woman said contemptuously. "Moff Harsh and the Corporates control him!"
"Shut your rotten mouth!" Seth roared, losing his composure. "You and your father poured billions into building Kabul Industries' infrastructure, and then you practically gave it away for free to those filthy convicts and scammers from the mines!"
"We cared about the company's workers!"
"Who needs that care when it punches a hole in the budget?" Seth asked.
He stared at the girl for a while, then suddenly asked:
"You're reading me with a puppet, aren't you?"
"That's common knowledge," the girl shrugged. "You can't do anything on your own or of your own will."
"But the explosion in the mine that killed your father and was supposed to kill you too — I managed that on my own, didn't I?" Seth asked mockingly, not hiding his triumph. "You're nothing but idealists who think any of those dirty workers gave a damn about you. They took your free houses, free meals, insurance, payouts — and their productivity was a fraction of what they put out now for pennies and no guarantees. Under me, the company became what it should have been under your father! A mining giant for the whole sector!"
"Well, at least you had the courage to confess to killing Father," Arista said vengefully.
"I'll twist your head off too, niece," the head of the corporation promised.
"I'd appreciate it if we settled our business first," the man in black stated.
"Later," Seth waved his hand, realizing he needed to stall until the next communication session with Moff Harsh. "We've already discussed everything preliminarily. All the ore will go to you, not the Corporates."
"We haven't discussed all the shipments with you," the guest raised an eyebrow. "Or the sector joining the Dominion."
"Well, if you want to fight the Corporate Sector, be my guest," Seth prevaricated. "But I need time to prepare all the documents, plans, and so on, hold meetings with the workers..."
The man in black armor nodded understandingly to each of Seth's arguments, then raised his hand to get attention.
"Or maybe you're just waiting for Moff Harsh to return with his destroyer and the Corporate Sector fleet to help you defend," he said.
"Wh-what?" Seth was taken aback. "D-did you install listening devices in my house when you were here last time?"
"No," the man in black stood up and approached Kabul. "I figured you were too paranoid, so you'd thoroughly search the whole house and find them."
"Th-then how did you know?" The company head's eyes bulged as he watched Arista effortlessly slip her wrists free of their restraints.
"Simple," the man in black sighed, pushing Seth in the chest and sending him onto the sofa. "The Dominion monitors ships moving through the sector. That became possible thanks to the capture of a Republic observation station known as Daxis Outpost on the planet Jendolhun. Because of that, we know the Star Destroyer Cauldron is outside the sector. And thanks to your loquaciousness, we also have information that you spoke with Moff Harsh. Even if you don't know where he and his ships are right now, that doesn't mean our technicians can't trace the signal's origin." He waved his hand, and Seth watched in horror as drop cables fell into the spacious attic, and several more figures in black armor descended — this time with closed helmets.
Kabul silently observed as Arista walked to the large transparisteel door in the floor and opened it for the soldiers.
They quickly dispersed throughout the floor of the house, taking every room under control.
"Mr. Kabul..." was all he heard from his protocol droid before a shot and a crash told him the assistant would say no more.
"You won't get away with this!" Seth began to bluster. "The workers will stand by me!"
"After we release the recording," Bravo-One patted the Dominion emblem on his right pauldron, making it clear that's where the hidden camera was, "only the most hardened scoundrels will help you. And we'll find a way to deal with them."
"No one will stand up for him," Arista said, slapping her uncle across the face. "You scoundrel! If I only suspected before that Harsh killed Father, now you've confessed yourself!"
"It was just a moment of weakness, nothing more," Seth whimpered. "I had nothing to do with it, I didn't do anything..."
"We'll sort it out," Bravo-One said. "So, while we're killing time, Mr. Kabul, maybe you'll tell us where Moff Harsh is? That might be the only way to earn some leniency when you're charged with the string of crimes you've committed."
"The Chiloon Rift!" Seth said quickly. "I contacted Harsh a few minutes before you arrived. He said he had business there."
"What Rift is that?" the Dominion man frowned.
"A nebula in the northern part of the Mieru'kar sector," Arista said. "Father was planning to finance mineral development there based on a tip from some of his miners, but after his death, the plans remained just plans."
"Yes, yes," Seth nodded.
"Why are you so excited?" Arista raised an eyebrow. "Father would never have told you about something like that. We discussed this project in private."
"Do you know how to get there?" Bravo-One asked the young woman sharply.
"There's a dangerous route along the neighboring sectors to a point at the edge of the galaxy," she frowned. "But there are too many correction points. I don't remember them all. A miner showed it to Father and me, but he died a few months ago."
"You've been there?" Seth was surprised.
"Of course I have," Arista said irritably. "Or did you think Father's ultimate dream was to live forever under the Empire's thumb?"
"I'd bet that miner didn't die of natural causes," Bravo-One said meaningfully, boring into Kabul with his gaze.
"I had nothing to do with it!" he shouted, waving his arms. "I didn't kill anyone! I'm innocent!"
"So Horsch has access to rich mineral deposits," Seth said.
"Shut your mouth," Arista advised, looking at the Dominion man. "Something's bothering you."
"Let's step outside," the man in black armor snapped his fingers, getting the attention of one of his three subordinates in the living room. "Keep an eye on him, don't let him out of your sight."
"Yes, sir."
When they were on the balcony, the girl closed the transparisteel door behind her, and Seth could no longer eavesdrop.
Gloomily staring at the armed guard, he began to pinch his mustache, hoping to come up with a plan to escape this sticky situation.
* * *
Torin, breathing in the fresh air, looked at Arista Kabul, who had come up to him.
"You asked what was bothering me," he reminded her.
"Well, yes," she replied.
"The location of the Chiloon Rift on the back end of the Mieru'kar sector," Agent Inek explained. "Effectively, Moff Harsh, with the right equipment, could create an insurmountable defensive line and a point of tension there, forcing us to divert part of our forces northward. Are you sure you don't remember the route coordinates?"
"I only looked at the navigation device a few times," the girl shrugged. "Why would I need to remember them when Father was there, and the miner..."
"But neither of them is here now," Bravo-One said. "I'm sure the miner's death was no accident — Harsh probably got wind of this deposit. How extensive is it?"
"Father believed that several hundred planets were destroyed in the rift due to gravitational and other anomalies," Arista said, seeing the Jawa Tekh and the Gamorrean Grissom waiting for them by the steep aero-spider they had arrived in. "Analysis and scanning showed that just about every metal in the galactic periodic table is there. And calculations indicated that near the asteroid fields in the nebula, there was a planet with gas deposits, but we never found out which ones."
"In other words, you could build ships there and probably fuel or even arm them," Torin licked his lips.
"Well, I suppose," Arista shrugged. "I'm not strong on shipbuilding."
"That's not needed," Torin spoke. "I think you understand that if Harsh has the opportunity, with such an outpost and knowing escape routes, he'll be able to strike at the sector."
"But you arranged for the Dominion fleet to be here!" the young woman reminded him.
"That's true," Torin agreed. "The problem is something else. According to our information, both Harsh and your uncle are working not just for the Corporate Sector, but for criminals with far-reaching plans."
"Big news," the girl smiled. "Every corporate is a criminal by definition. The list of laws each of them breaks every day, for their own profit, could fill the memory of a standard datapad — and that's a very capacious data storage device."
"The Dominion intends to stop them and bring fair trade rules back to the Corporate Sector, separating crime from the sector's governance," Torin said.
Arista snorted into her fist.
"Good luck with that," she wished. "Even the Empire couldn't do it. Let alone the Old and New Republics."
"Regardless, we will do it," the man stated.
"Who's arguing?" Arista was surprised. "It sounds maximalistic, given the Corporate fleet. According to rumors, about fifteen hundred, maybe twenty-five hundred various starships. I don't know your forces, but if you manage the impossible and the Corporate Sector becomes a place for honest deals, then... Well, I don't even know. Maybe the Dominion would never have to worry about its economy — just live off the dividends from trade."
"That's not the point," Torin interrupted her. "The Chiloon Rift is in our rear."
"And?"
"I suspect they could use it to strike our sectors," Torin pressed.
"So what can I do about it?" Arista was surprised.
"The Dominion has a device that might help you remember the coordinates," Inek explained.
"That sounds like vivisection," the girl tensed.
"No, it's completely painless," Torin stated. "I've been through the procedure myself many times."
"So you want to stick my head in some machine and poke around in my memories?" the girl was horrified.
"In general terms, yes," Torin confirmed. "Don't worry, no physical violence or pain."
"I wasn't scared until you said that," the girl declared, thoroughly spooked. "That's what they always say — don't worry, it doesn't hurt. And then — hold on, bear with me, I'm almost done."
Torin, not believing his ears, looked at the sweet girl who had just said something like that with astonishment.
"I'm sorry you've had bad luck with men in your life, Arista, but..."
"Men?" the girl was confused. A second later, her face turned crimson with anger. "How dare you!? I was telling you about a visit to a local dentist! There was this old man about ten years ago, working with practically a pre-Republic drill that drills instead of burning through tooth material! All of us — every child on Otunia — were terrified to go to him, but we had to because the water here was just awful until Father bought industrial filters for the pumping station! We've known each other for over a month, done over a hundred meetings with miner groups, and you think I could blurt out something like that?! You're a boor, Bravo-One!"
"That's why I never tell women my real name," Torin sighed. "I apologize, Arista. I understand how absurd the whole situation looks, but believe me — millions of lives may depend on your decision. I'm asking you to fly with me..."
"After that little insight of yours, I'm not flying anywhere with you!" the girl declared, hands on her hips. "It's enough that I'm giving you half the company for help that the miners could have handled themselves."
"They couldn't have," Torin stated, pulling a portable datapad from his belt and showing it to the girl. "See the number in the right column?"
"Two hundred six," she said. "What is it?"
"The number of Dominion Intelligence agents who have already died so far, destroying Moff Harsh's strongholds on the planets," Torin stated. "Two hundred six of my brothers-in-arms. Each one a superbly trained fighter, like the ones who stormed this residence without your uncle even flinching. Two hundred six people died fighting Harsh's stormtroopers. How many unprepared miners would have died? Without special equipment or combat skills? And we've only just begun — our forces have already entered the sector and are conducting full-scale clearance operations. I simply can't risk bringing top-secret equipment here that could be damaged or captured by the enemy."
"Fine," Arista raised her hands. "I'll fly with you. But I'm taking Grissom and Tekh with me."
"Deal," Torin said. "I'll contact Rear Admiral Shohashi and request a ship for the flight to the metropolis. You'll also meet our commander-in-chief and ratify the treaty for the sector to join the Dominion."
"I certainly can't speak for the entire sector," Arista warned. "Otunia and a few other systems that depend on Kabul Industries, definitely. But the Bosphs, for example — they'll never cooperate with Imperials. Even former ones."
"Let our diplomats handle that," Torin stated. "Thank you for helping us."
He drew a blaster from his holster, turned it grip-first, and handed it to the girl.
"Uh... what's this for?" Arista blinked.
"A gift," Torin smiled. "Consider it my apology for misunderstanding your words. From now on, knowing you have a Mandalorian blaster, I'll be more careful with my assumptions. It takes down an opponent in one shot. Quite a rare piece, I bought it on the black market. Not a disintegrator, of course, but it can punch through even a heavily armored droid."
"And you're giving it to me?" Arista confirmed.
"Yes," Inek nodded. "As a sign that... Well, I already said it, I won't repeat myself."
"A blaster's a blaster," the girl shrugged, aiming at the sky. "Angular, like a brick with a handle."
"Don't shoot," Torin hurried to stop her, but wasn't fast enough.
A lady's finger already squeezed the trigger.
A white-yellowish flash blazed in the sky.
"Excellent shot," Inek gasped, not believing his eyes and ears.
The Gamorrean and Jawa immediately looked their way, but Arista gave a sign that everything was fine.
"It really is powerful," the girl smiled. "Thanks for the gift, Bravo-One. I'll go talk to my uncle."
"Just don't shoot him," Torin said, watching Tekh and Grissom continue chatting with each other. He swore never to leave broken weapons near a Jawa again.
Some gift. A broken, expensive trinket.
Kabul Family Estate.
* * *
"How is he?" I asked the medical droid treating my adjutant's wounds.
You look at a seemingly ordinary person.
Who led a lightning assault on a captured ship, knowing we couldn't stay on enemy territory for long.
Who captured the pirate who executed our people on the escort ship — and the fact that Sol Mon had taken part in that came out through his own slips.
According to one, he had apparently flown to the ship whose crew had already been killed by Urai Fen.
Then, a little later in the conversation, he let slip that he was guilty of murdering the crew of the Nebulon-B.
I didn't even dwell on that, knowing the pirate was lying and catching him on it was pointless — I just needed to absorb the information and file it away.
Grodin not only captured Mon, but also extracted information about Firna D'Asta's location, learned who had kidnapped her, and discovered that Urai Fen had a cloaking device.
As well as the latter's involvement in the death of his first-generation clones guarding the Baroness.
And he made a preemptive decision — to disable the ship that Lieutenant of the "Zann Consortium" intended to flee on.
Cut off communications so he couldn't warn his "patron" about what happened.
Disabled the hyperdrives so the Talortai (that's the race Urai Fen belongs to) couldn't escape.
A logical move — in case Fen defeated him, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere — our pilots would deprive him of sublight drives, and then a boarding action.
Even with a cloaking device, Fen couldn't have handled the droids and the 501st Legion fighters.
Speaking of which...
Too bad TNX-0333 fried most of it, but there's hope the technicians can restore it or at least reconstruct the schematic.
So far, all we know is that it runs on stygium crystals.
Anyway, continuing to list Grodin's achievements, he not only managed to defeat Urai, but also attempted to capture him alive.
And he saved the Baroness, whom we'll have to question thoroughly.
Then he also escorted Mon to me, was present and actively assisted in the interrogation, returned the scoundrel to his cell, and only after that went to the medbay — when the bacta patch could no longer stop the bleeding.
"The wound isn't serious, blood loss is minimal," the med droid stated. "A few vessels are damaged, but the Lieutenant Colonel will live. He needs time to recover."
"Can I speak with him?"
We were watching the patient through a one-way mirror, so the adjutant didn't know he was being observed.
But I wouldn't bet on that.
After all, Grodin is Grodin.
Judging by Rukh's face, if I hadn't asked, he would have.
"Yes, of course," the droid gestured invitingly toward the private room.
"Wait for me here," I asked the Noghri, to my bodyguard's obvious displeasure.
But Rukh obeyed the order.
"Sir!" Seeing me, Grodin tried to sit up, but the painful wound wouldn't let him.
"It's all right, Lieutenant Colonel," I said, sitting on a chair next to the cot. "The med droid says you'll be good as new soon."
"I lost," Tierce grimaced and sat up anyway. "I got so close, but I couldn't take such a valuable prisoner alive."
"It's not your fault, and you know it," I said. "You defeated someone your clones couldn't."
"I think it's because he had the cloak," Tierce stated. "I saw he had over a dozen serious scars — only our combat knives leave marks like that. So they fought him while he was cloaked."
Maybe those strikes were made just before death.
"I was just lucky that TNX-0333 fried his camouflage," the Lieutenant Colonel said. "Otherwise, I don't know..."
"History doesn't have a subjunctive mood," I noted. "What happened, happened."
"Yes," Tierce said bitterly. "The prisoner died. He bit off his own tongue and shoved it down his throat!"
"Which only proves we have a lot to learn about capturing high-ranking Zann Consortium operatives," I noted. "We only learned about the poison capsules from Dominion agents, not from the Imperial Intelligence database, which has a whole meager department dedicated to countering Zann's organization. As far as I know, cases where prisoners kill themselves that way are a statistical anomaly, not a percentage."
"That's true, sir," Tierce replied, nodding in agreement. "It's just unthinkable."
"That's our enemy," I reminded him. "I think you'll find it interesting to pass the time in the infirmary by devising new protocols for capturing such Zann Consortium prisoners."
"At least for humans or races physiologically similar to them, I already have a countermeasure," Tierce said, surprising me immensely. "A pneumatic syringe with a shock dose of tranquilizer. After immobilization — an injection in the neck. A few seconds, and the opponent loses consciousness."
"It's an interesting proposal, but it needs refinement," I noted. "The Zann Consortium, in the past and even now, uses a large number of representatives from various races. What would knock out a human might kill a Jawa. And it might not affect a Herglic or a Wookiee at all. A Talortai with its fast metabolism and regeneration might even be immune to doses that would be lethal to all other races."
"The tactic isn't perfect," Grodin readily agreed. "It needs work. And we have to account for the fact that at least some criminals have artificial excretory system implants. For such implants, clearing the blood of tranquilizers wouldn't be difficult."
"The main thing is that there's an understanding of the problem," I said. "And the desire to solve it. Answers don't come for nothing — work is required. And you've already started it. Just don't stop."
In reality, figuring out how to capture a prisoner who is firmly determined — or programmed — to die if capture is threatened is quite difficult without such 'mistakes.'
Action breeds reaction.
In the past, we only knew about the poison capsule.
And the tubes in bacta that block jaw clenching are the simplest countermeasure that's been devised.
Tierce understands perfectly well that he has accomplished the impossible.
Not only did he defeat a stronger and more dangerous opponent in combat without outside help, but he also took every measure based on the information he had to prevent suicide.
I wouldn't have guessed that a Talortai would cut off its own tongue with its beak.
Because suicide fundamentally contradicts the basic instincts of any rational being whose biology is geared toward the exact opposite.
Yes, capturing Urai Fen could have shed light on many things — that's why Tierce 'wrapped him up.'
But you don't get much from a corpse…
Well, we have what we have.
Crying over the Talortai's body is pointless — better let the pathologists work and tell us what race this is (in the HoloNet, there's nothing beyond a few photos and the race's name), and what its vulnerabilities are.
Because my memory helpfully suggests that Urai Fen claimed his entire race was sensitive to the Force.
And if they're such powerful fighters, and also 'Jedi-like,' then we have big problems.
But only if Tyber Zann knows the location of his associate's homeworld and can recruit them.
"They preferred to destroy rather than take prisoners," Tierce nodded understandingly. "Better that than reporting later that you couldn't eliminate the threat. They wouldn't have rewarded that."
"Yes, the formalized approach of Imperial bureaucracy, including the military, is well known," I agreed.
"Palpatine would have skinned me alive for a failure like that," Grodin admitted.
"Then we're lucky the old maniac is still holed up in his den," I said with a restrained smile.
"He'll show up soon enough," Grodin grumbled. "As soon as he realizes that all his Remnants are run by nothing but idiots with no grasp of tactics or strategy. Although, I think he's got a group no better assembled on Byss."
"We'll deal with problems as they come," I said. "Did you hear Sol Mon's revelations about the planet Smarck?"
"A planet, a mountain, cloning cylinders," the Guardsman nodded. "From the description, it sounds a lot like Wayland."
"Could the Emperor have had another treasure vault?" I suggested.
"If so, I know nothing about it," Tierce shook his head. "Is it possible that the cloning cylinders on that planet are not Spaarti, but Kaminoan design?"
"There's no direct evidence or refutation at this point," I reminded him. "Only indirect information that clones could be created in as little as fifteen days, or as long as several months."
"Conflicting data," Grodin pronounced.
"More than enough," I agreed.
Though even then, I was beginning to guess the reasons for such a wide 'spread' in the time frames.
But again, so far it's just my hypothesis, which I needed to test and not throw guesses left and right.
"Get well, Grodin," I said, clapping the adjutant on the shoulder. "There's a lot of work ahead of us."
Apparently, a hell of a lot.
And after what Bravo-One reported to me, civil words are running out entirely.
* * *
When the Grand Admiral left the medical cabin, Rukh caught a barely perceptible nod of his head toward the room he had just left.
The Seraph-shadow of the Noghri bodyguard was inside in an instant.
"Didn't expect me, Guardsman?" Rukh squinted, meowing in a sinister tone as he appeared by the bed.
"I never doubted you'd come," Grodin smirked, lying back.
"The droid said you'd be better soon," Rukh said.
"The next person who comes into my room with that same line, I'll break a hundred and four times," the Guardsman promised. "You all talk as if I caught a proton torpedo with my bare hands and only survived by a miracle. I've suffered much more serious injuries than this."
"How serious?" the Noghri asked with interest.
"Once my head was nearly torn off," Tierce said, turning serious. "Hanging by my spinal cord. Every vertebra was dust."
"Really?" the Grand Admiral's bodyguard widened his eyes.
"Oh, a Hutt in your family tree — of course not, Rukh!" Traun's adjutant sighed. "Just stuffed with shrapnel. And this," he gestured to the bandage covering the lower part of his torso, "is just a scratch. Plenty of bacta, stimulants — and it'll heal like on a rancor. I don't know why you all panicked."
"Yes, the Grand Admiral is seriously concerned about your health," Rukh suddenly grew serious. "When he left, he went to the droid. Before I came in, I heard him order that you be provided with the most comfortable recovery complex possible."
The adjutant was silent for a few seconds, staring into the Noghri's eyes.
"It happens," he said, running a hand over his stinging eyes. "Worried about a soldier — a source of DNA and knowledge for clones of guardsmen and commanders in assault legions. I think after I dismantled the Zann Consortium lieutenant, the new clones with my face will be even better."
"That's good," Rukh said unexpectedly.
He raised his hand, but Grodin reacted on pure reflex, intercepting the gray-skinned bodyguard's limb that had come too close.
He glanced sideways, grinned crookedly at the obsidian blade he saw in the Noghri's restrained hand.
"Well, suppose even if I had one arm and one leg missing, you still couldn't kill me," Tierce said.
"And I wasn't trying to kill you," Rukh meowed.
The blade spun in his hand, and then the Noghri, with a slight bow, placed the weapon on the bed next to Tierce.
"Now, from that point, tell me more," the former Imperial Guardsman requested.
"When a Noghri hunter, or a Death Commando, is wounded and recovering in a native village, they always leave a weapon with him," Rukh explained. "It's a custom that goes back to our ancestors, before Honoghr became a dead world."
"I assume it was so the wounded could defend himself when the villagers were in the fields and a predator might be near," Grodin said slowly.
"You are wise, Guardsman," Rukh agreed. "It is the duty of one brother to another — to ensure that even a wounded brother-by-knife is not left helpless."
Grodin coughed, turning away and again rubbing his hand over his face near his eyes.
"Thank you," he said in a slightly choked tone. "That… means a lot to me. Am I right in understanding that you now consider me a brother-by-knife?"
"Yes, Guardsman," the Noghri bowed again. "As an elder brother acknowledges a younger."
At the end, he couldn't help it, and the meow came out barely suppressing a smile and a laugh.
"Oh, you little bastard," Tierce gritted his teeth, grabbing the insolent Noghri by the scruff of the neck.
But he had already nimbly dodged the attack, slipped under the bed, and surfaced like a fish at the door.
"Get well, little brother-by-knife," the Noghri giggled and disappeared through the door.
Tierce, lying back on the bed, spun the gifted blade in his hand, then examined it in the light of the room's blinding lamps.
"Engraving, huh," Tierce said slowly, looking at the inscription in Galactic Basic carved into the hilt. "Little scoundrel. I'll take a flamethrower from the 'incendiaries' and tar you, fulfilling Vice Admiral Pellaeon's cherished dream."
Wincing slightly in pain, Tierce slid off the bed and started dressing, glaring angrily at the blade given to him.
Get well, my little brother. One day your snow-white fur will darken too.
It wouldn't be anything special, if not for one thing.
The youngest Noghri have light-colored fur.
The elders have fur as dark as night.
Effectively, Rukh had called him a milk-drinker.
The little bastard was clearly bored without Pellaeon, amusing himself however he could.
Tossing aside the medical bay clothes and putting on his usual uniform, the Lieutenant Colonel decided that even pierced through, he wouldn't lie on a bed in the infirmary for the Noghri's amusement.
Something very large-scale was brewing — Traun hadn't come to talk to him for nothing.
He had asked about his condition, wanting to know if he could count on his most loyal fighter and guardsman.
And if so, the current situation was clearly beyond acceptable 'lying in a hospital bed.'
Besides, it would be easier to repay the little bastard for this performance while on his feet.
Decisively silencing the droid that wanted to argue with him, the Lieutenant Colonel discharged himself from the ship's infirmary without authorization, returning to duty.
* * *
I have to admit a simple truth — compared to what I previously knew about Tyber Zann, what I'm learning now is progress.
Development that isn't just striding by leaps and bounds, but charging like a rhino.
And it will soon reach such proportions that 'the blindness of a rhino charging at you is no longer the rhino's problem.'
Of course, a lot is still unclear, but the situation is shaping up to be quite interesting.
So, let's turn to the history of my own memories and the known data from the Imperial archives at my disposal.
Gaps in one can be filled with information from other sources, and I've gathered quite a bit.
Tyber Zann was born on the planet Anaxis thirty-four years before the Battle of Yavin.
He worked in a family firm that specialized in converting obsolete Old Republic and Imperial military equipment for civilian use.
The Imperials note that upon entering the Academy, Zann's personnel file had marks indicating he was more involved in illegal gambling than in the family business.
Therefore, one can conclude that this man has an adventurous nature, a propensity for 'movement,' a rejection of sedentary behavior, and a desire to banish monotony from his life.
Also, through the ISB, there is information, though unconfirmed, that in his youth, Zann tried to steal a batch of weapons from one of his parent company's warehouses to arm his sabbacc buddies.
Security forces caught him and reported the attempted theft to his father, who as punishment arranged for him to be enrolled as a cadet in the Imperial Academy on Carida.
But there is no official data on this incident.
Well, of course — a theft from a family business, if made public and properly investigated, would clearly have prevented the father from shipping the kid off far away into the Imperial armed forces, famous for their ability to beat the stupidity out of the most hardened adventurers.
Now let's turn to the materials of the departmental investigation conducted by the ISB on Carida itself.
"Operating from the Academy, Zann created a new smuggling network — the Zann Consortium. The facility's weak security allowed him to steal Imperial weapons and ship them abroad to his partner, who sold them on the black market, resulting in damages totaling…"
These are the official statements.
They look more like lines from an indictment.
In fact, this data formed the basis of Zann's tribunal decision.
And the author of these statements — Cadet Thrawn.
That is, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, who uncovered Zann's scheme.
What's interesting — the decision was made in absentia, since by that time Zann himself had long since disappeared from the Academy on Carida.
Why?
Let's turn to the ISB operative reports.
"Zann used his authority to participate in training missions where he could form a network of contacts for smuggling. The operation became one of the largest in the galaxy, and he began to attract the attention of more powerful criminals — namely, Jabba the Hutt."
So, the king of the underworld enters the stage.
Jabba coordinated a plan to capture Zann during a smuggling run shortly before his graduation. Luckily for Tyber, his partner (most likely Urai Fen, but no name or even race is given in official documents) intercepted the Imperial authorities' transmission about the impending arrest.
So, Jabba 'ratted out' Zann to the Imperials, eliminating a little upstart who'd decided to strangle a competitor in the cradle.
Tyber managed to avoid prosecution at that moment, but Zann was forced to leave the Academy due to his disrespect for its requirements.
In other words — they gave him a chance to leave 'quietly,' and he took it.
And only after that did Cadet Mitth'raw'nuruodo provide detailed data on his activities.
Obviously, the bigwigs on Carida had no intention of publicizing what had happened.
I think the Emperor's patronage of Mitth'raw'nuruodo played a role, and the tribunal still took place.
Let's glean some data from the Imperial Intelligence archives.
According to their data, Tyber Zann did go on to form an alliance with Jabba the Hutt.
Subsequently, he began conducting smuggling operations for the Hutt in exchange for vehicles and vessels, as well as hiding assets from his criminal business partner.
Simply put, Zann never intended this agreement to be permanent and planned to 'screw over' his partner from the start.
History doesn't say whether it was retaliation for Carida or not.
But, one way or another, Imperial Intelligence indicates that Zann stole a certain artifact from Jabba, one that Jabba had acquired for an extremely obscene sum.
It is known that the galaxy first learned of the 'Zann Consortium' when the organization's flotilla ambushed a Mandalorian warlord.
The latter's ship was boarded, and the warlord himself taken prisoner.
Zann got what he wanted — the criminal underworld started talking about him, which was supposed to help him gain new useful connections, associates, and wealthy clients.
Following this, there is information that Zann stole something extremely valuable from Jabba.
I'd bet it was that very artifact whose acquisition had 'bankrupted' Jabba.
The theft of an artifact into which an obscene amount of money was invested.
A battle occurs, during which Zann loses most of his forces and goes to 'sunbathe' on Kessel.
From where Urai Fen successfully rescues him.
A new dawn begins for the 'Zann Consortium.'
After the conflict with Jabba, Tyber Zann, under threat of killing the latter, secures a truce.
The artifact — which is a Sith holocron — remains in Zann's hands, for him to unlock its secrets later.
He hired a Dathomiri woman whom he freed on her home planet to gain the secret of deciphering the Sith artifact.
Zann found himself dragged into a mess with Prince Xizor and 'Black Sun' over the theft of tibanna from Bespin.
Xizor intended to frame Zann to Darth Vader as the tibanna thief, while Zann framed Xizor as such.
Later, Vader killed Xizor, in part because of this Bespin heist, and 'Black Sun' suffered its first significant losses among its leadership.
Meanwhile, the 'Zann Consortium' was entangling planets in various corrupt schemes and connections.
Zann's attempt to use his artifact — the holocron — predictably turned out to be a trap. Mitth'raw'nuruodo's fleet engaged Tyber Zann's fleet.
During the battle, one of Zann's underlings stole it from him and gave it to Thrawn, who then fled on his Star Destroyer, leaving the remaining ships to their fate. After defeating the remaining Imperial fleet, Tyber returned to his base.
This is a telling moment, actually.
From which it appears that Mitth'raw'nuruodo was rather careless about the threat posed by Zann, which cost several warships.
Very unlike the future Grand Admiral, who never missed a chance to eliminate a threat preemptively.
But, one way or another, Mitth'raw'nuruodo didn't do it.
This later resulted in Zann's attack, after the Battle of Endor, on the Eclipse being built at Kuat.
I remember this from my past life, and it's confirmed by local sources of information.
After Endor and the raid on Kuat, the 'Zann Consortium' took a double hit, suffering defeats from both the Empire and the Rebel Alliance.
And, strangely enough, that was enough to shake the galaxy's chain of corruption and destroy the 'Consortium.'
Now it turns out that Tyber Zann simply went into hiding to protect himself.
Most likely, from what I've gathered about this being, the most inert and ineffective part of the 'Zann Consortium' was destroyed.
Judging by the scale Zann is operating on now — he understood perfectly that either he would sacrifice the small and obvious to those who intended to destroy him, or the organization would fall entirely.
As a result, the current situation is as follows.
Recruitment of mercenary and pirate gangs through the 'Black Sun' front.
This allows hiding from the public the preservation of at least the brain trust and core, the combat wing of the 'Zann Consortium' the notorious 'Vulture' operatives, conditioned in such a way that one can only guess what 'zombification' programs Tyber Zann is using.
I have to acknowledge that he has the entire industrial and economic might of the Corporate Sector at his disposal.
And also — there is a struggle for mineral deposits, like the Chiloon Rift.
Which is not just a cluster of asteroids with an inexhaustible source of minerals, but almost certainly a military base from which a strike can be launched at the Dominion's rear.
I don't even need to mention Rothana and Kamino again — that's been discussed dozens of times.
Actually, one might think this guy should be a role model — controlling the criminal underworld so effectively while staying in the shadows.
But controlling crime equally effectively can only be done by as hardened a criminal as Zann himself.
You can't be half-covered in crime.
You either live by that world or you die.
Neither option suits me.
It fundamentally contradicts what I imagined about him in the past.
If I previously thought he was nothing more than a gangster, now — he's some kind of local Professor Moriarty.
This is a qualitatively different level of both planning and execution.
The 'Zann Consortium' has changed permanently.
There are more and more questions, but only a few key ones.
First — is there a connection between Zann and the Hutts at present?
If so, opposing this man becomes even more surgical.
Because the power of the Corporate Sector, which he almost certainly controls, is a force that even the Empire, with its colossal fleet of tens of thousands of Imperial alone, had to reckon with.
And if you add the fleet and armed forces of Hutt Space — it becomes completely depressing.
Beginning an open, full-scale opposition to Zann, who clearly intends to destroy the Dominion, and, if my guesses about the Chiloon Rift are correct, has a direct path to my rear sectors, would be suicide if, besides bandits and pirates, he also has the support of the Hutt clans.
Unfortunately, Grappa the Hutt is unable to tell about these subtleties, as it's entirely not his level of work.
Second and most important question — the list of those Tyber Zann has managed to clone and replace.
At a minimum — Fina D'Asta.
At a maximum…
If my theory that the 'parade of sovereignties' of the Imperial remnants is nothing more than a spectacle and the work of Zann's puppets, then it becomes even more depressing.
It's one thing to fight free-thinkers, and quite another to fight 'zombified' operatives.
Because Zann is already effectively at war with me, and I still don't know how strong his blow to the back might be.
But work to resolve this issue has already been launched.
A hologram of the Third appeared before me.
As always — munching on something on the go.
"Third," I addressed the girl.
"Grand Admiral," she saluted me with a piece of meat impaled on a fork.
Her cheeks, clearly stuffed with food, moved rhythmically as she chewed.
"Is the autopsy complete?" I inquired.
"Mm-hm," she replied.
"And the genetic analysis?"
An affirmative nod.
"For all the subjects I indicated?" I ask with emphasis, somewhat irritated by her tactlessness.
But due to the unique specifics of her work, she is allowed to violate certain protocols.
"Mm-hf," she said with her mouth full.
"Would you be so kind as to swallow the contents of your mouth and speak to me without food obstructions?" I asked, tolerating the young woman's — and in her own way unique specialist's — minor quirks.
With visible effort, the Third swallowed what she was chewing, then looked at the remainder of her steak with undisguised regret, and decisively pushed it aside.
"Regarding the autopsy — I found no physiological changes in the corpse," she explained. "And no poison capsules, including. Telomeres are normal, consistent with the general wear and tear of the organism."
In other words — the corpse of Moff Delurin, who controlled the planet with warlike lizards, is not a clone.
That's good.
"Grand Moff Ferrus and his team?" I inquired.
"Grand Moff is also an original human," at these words I felt a little relieved. "Well, his clones… They are his clones. All correspond to the ages of their creation."
So, at least Grand Moff is beyond suspicion.
"The candidates he selected," I reminded. "What can you say about their telomeres?"
"Well, those like Admiral Trommer, Grand Moff Heizer, Moffs Vensel and Jarnek — they are also original humans. But those from the 'rejected' category, like Grand Moff Nivers — these are clones, no doubt…"
Well, well…
An interesting combination emerges.
So, those who passed through the mill of counterintelligence and the Jensaarai are humans, while those who were terminated, largely due to the 'unclear threat hidden in the depths of the mind' mentioned by the Jensaarai involved in the filtration operations of prisoners of war — turned out to be clones?
Let's note that thought.
Does this mean that the Jensaarai can somehow sense such 'sleeping agents'?
If so, then I have fewer concerns about the military — they have all passed through the Jensaarai and counterintelligence.
"Get started on checking the DNA analyses of former Imperial prisoners of war from the "rejected" category, I ordered.
Actually, blood samples were taken to check medical health status.
And, in case of refusal to cooperate, a suitable sample was cloned without their knowledge — in practice, however, this had never happened.
Now, it seems, we'll have to recheck all DNA samples, from high-ranking officers down to enlisted men.
The work is colossal.
"Continue the checks, I ordered. — Set aside all current projects and use all your capacity to check the available samples for second-wave cloning.
This means: the first wave of checks will include all of our few generals, colonels, commanders of formations and Star Destroyers, specialists who have not yet been used as donors.
Essentially, this is the genetic database of "fresh acquisitions" who haven't had time to prove themselves properly, and therefore weren't subject to cloning.
Why waste expensive reagents on studying the blood of someone who might be a decent commander but won't perform any better?
I'm calm about the first wave — these are officers and specialists who have been scanned and cloned repeatedly.
Their telomere check is a given.
But essentially there aren't that many of them — whereas the second wave is truly a huge number of potential donors.
You can't just check them all at once.
And the issue here isn't the cost of DNA analysis reagents (oddly enough, they were expensive in my past life and in this one too).
It's that there's simply no way to check everyone at once — it takes time.
For example, checking just fifty names from the key donor lists took Third almost half a day.
And ahead are still hundreds and hundreds of samples.
The process is clearly not fast.
"We'll work on it, the girl couldn't resist and took a bite of her steak. — Oh, right, I forgot. Another confirmed analysis came in.
That is — a match based on discrepancy between telomere length and actual age.
"And who is it?
"The corpse of Moff Gronn, Third replied. — The droid pathologist determined that he died from a fast-acting toxin stored in a molar, not from a blaster shot.
"Thank you, Third, I said. — Report all discovered clones to me, Colonel Astarion, Grand Moff Ferrus, and Vice Admiral Pellaeon. Personally. And everything that's happening must remain secret.
"Understood, Third muttered, still chewing.
She's incorrigible, and scolding her is pointless.
So I simply turned off the holoprojector.
Which is what needed to be proven.
At least some of the Moffs are clones.
With the characteristic Consortium method of self-destruction.
Interesting...
And those who were among the "rejected," like Grand Moff Nivers — did they already end up in prison as clones, or were they replaced inside Republican casemates?
Sol Mon said he kidnapped both Imperial and Republican "big shots."
If the substitution occurred inside the casemates, then I even know the reason.
Grand Moff Nivers, in fact, like the entire "Moffs' barracks" these are those freed from Republican prison in the second or third wave.
First, combat officers were freed — navy, then army.
Officials — in the last operations.
What is the probability that Zann managed to predict that I would also free the Moffs, thereby passing "Trojan horses" to me?
Let's note that thought.
A plan began to take shape in my mind on how to use Zann's own actions against him.
Yes, maybe this guy got smarter after he nearly lost everything after Endor, but one shouldn't forget that he's extremely reckless and it's not in his nature to "sit still."
He needs movement, needs activity — that's why he's been acting against me ever since his pirates were crushed in the Hegemony.
Well, it would be good to provoke him even more and give him a chance to really stab me in the back.