Ten years, two months, and sixteen days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, second month, and sixteenth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and first day since the Arrival.)
Slowly, very slowly, as if climbing a long and steep staircase, Mara Jade forced herself back to consciousness.
The feeling was as if she had just ascended through dozens of meters of water, experiencing all the delights of colossal pressure.
Her body ached as if a Star Destroyer had crashed down on her and then squirmed around a little.
The girl barely managed to open her eyes, looking around aimlessly in hopes of understanding where she was.
Familiar interiors almost immediately gave the answer.
She was on the 'Flame', her ship, honestly stolen from the Imperial Palace and once belonging to a hired assassin who worked exclusively on Palpatine's orders, Ennix Devian.
At the moment, she was in her cabin, and naturally no one else was here besides her.
Her mind was slowly disengaging from contact with the Force, refreshing memories.
It took literally a few seconds, but now she was, so to speak, fully armed.
"Meditation is for Jedi," she grumbled, sending a wave of the Force through her stiff body parts to warm the muscles.
The numb body parts reluctantly gave in to the persuasion and returned to her control.
The girl, with the grace of a dancer, rose to her feet and, swaying slightly, headed to the table by her bunk.
Grabbing a bottle of water, she drained half of it.
Then she looked at the spare parts spread out on the floor.
Most of them were in the exact same places as before when she had closed her eyes.
So she hadn't advanced very far, it turns out.
It didn't take much time to tidy up and change into her combat suit.
The ship's chronometer helpfully informed her that she was literally half an hour of flight time from her destination.
Not the one she had been preparing for for a long time on Thrawn's orders, but still.
Grand Admiral Thrawn made corrections to her mission at the very last moment, adding a delivery mission to her assignment.
Fastening to her belt a lightsaber once belonging to Jedi Master Mace Windu, she moved toward the entry hatch leading from the cabin to the ship's common area.
She passed her hand over the lock sensor, the door obediently slid aside, Mara stepped over the threshold... and froze in puzzlement.
"Hello, Mara," Ghent greeted.
He held a mug of caf in front of her, looking at her with loyal, slightly fawning eyes.
"How are you feeling?" he asked out of politeness.
"And you too," Jade grumbled, grabbing the glass of scalding hot drink and taking a sip.
Actually, the caf was supposed to be hot.
The one Ghent handed her — slightly warmer than a starship's hull in hyperspace.
Only less radioactive.
"You do know that caf is supposed to be hot?" asked the flame-haired woman, pouring the swill into the sink in the small galley of her ship.
"Well, sorry," Ghent replied, frowning worriedly. "I didn't think you'd sleep so long. And your brewed caf ran out. But there's instant. Want me to make it?"
"About the same as getting hit by a blaster shot in the stomach," admitted the red-haired vixen.
"I thought working for Thrawn would make you less sarcastic," Ghent pouted.
"Can Hoth suddenly turn from an icy desert into subtropics like Haarun Kel?" Mara caught Ghent's interested gaze on her, and he, realizing he'd been caught staring, dove onto the couch, shielded himself from Jade with a datapad, and started enthusiastically searching for something on its screen without lifting his eyes.
And they had already had a similar scene.
Though, in a slightly different context...
Mara forced herself back to reality.
"I hope while I was unconscious, you didn't bring some blonde girl onto my ship who used to be an informant for the Rebel Alliance," she inquired.
Ghent looked at her over the datapad.
"No," he said slowly. "Why, could I have?"
Mara forced out the most benevolent smile among those that belonged to the 'sardonic' category.
"Only over my dead body," she warned.
Ghent, meeting her gaze, hurriedly buried himself in his personal datapad again.
"What are you doing there?" Mara asked, approaching the kitchen cabinets in search of something edible.
Finding a powdered energy drink mix, she poured water into it and waited for the powder and water to mix, turning into an opaque bright blue liquid.
This version of the drink was the tastiest of all she had tried recently.
"Oh, nothing special," the slicer replied. "Regular tasks by Grand Admiral Thrawn," he waved his hand vaguely at the ceiling. "Well, at least that's how it seems at first glance."
"And in practice — everything is much more complex, convoluted, and dangerous than it seemed at first?" Mara clarified, taking a sip. "And you have to work at the limit of your knowledge and abilities?"
"Oh no, of course not, what's there," Ghent waved modestly. "I just don't understand why they sent me on this assignment specifically. Pent obtained this data — my first clone and a terrible conversationalist. Some sort of neurotic... Only into 'coding', nothing to even talk about or swap stories. An uncomfortable guy. We worked together on one project. If you knew how exhausting it is to be around him!"
"I can hardly imagine what it's like to work with someone who is only interested in two things in life: 'slicing' and smuggler tales," Mara chuckled. "Do you think it's pleasant to talk to someone who's shut himself off from you with a datapad?"
"Uh..." Ghent seemed a bit embarrassed. Just a tiny bit. He didn't even get the hint — the datapad hadn't gone anywhere. "Well, I suppose. And why talk to someone like that at all if he's completely uncommunicative?"
Mara sighed in exasperation and took another sip.
"We'll be arriving on Trogan soon," Jade announced, sipping the blue drink.
"Yes, I know," Ghent nodded. "When you locked the controls and went to your cabin, I connected to your ship's chronometer and duplicated the alert to my datapad..."
Each phrase he added softer and softer, looking fearfully at the red-haired beauty sipping the blue liquid.
"Uh..." Ghent mumbled, chewing his lips. "Don't look at me like that! I didn't bring spare pants!"
"Thanks for the warning," Mara thanked politely, suppressing the urge to clearly explain exactly where she saw all this unauthorized meddling and techno-itch. "Remind me to hire a good slicer once you step off my ship."
"Uh..." Ghent started stammering again. "I'll tell you, of course. But why do you need one? If you need to reprogram something, I'm always 'for'!"
"Yeah," she said with a professionally restrained smile, using her last strength to avoid being rude to the slicer, who was also an old acquaintance. "That's exactly the problem, my dear curious friend with mischievous little hands. I don't like it when people dig around in my ship without my permission."
"But I didn't do much," Ghent blurted out, hiding behind the datapad again. "You should be kinder to your friends, Mara. You don't have many as it is."
"I don't need friends," Mara snapped very politely. "What I really need is for you to stop messing with my ship's systems. Completely. Once and for all. Got it?"
Ghent nodded vigorously, causing his blue hair to become disheveled and look like a small tsunami.
"Let's hope this time you won't forget my little request," the girl chuckled, with a wave of her hand snatching the datapad from the slicer's hands. "Let me see what you're tinkering with there."
"This is actually classified information," he replied absently. "I don't think you're allowed to look at this."
"And I don't think you were allowed to break into my ship's systems," Mara cut off his weak attempts to remember subordination. "Well then, let's see what this is and what it's all about..."
Scanning the open page, she frowned.
Then, turning the electronic page of the document, she continued reading.
And another page.
And another.
"Where did Thrawn get this?" she asked in the tone she usually used on missions when she was still the 'Emperor's Hand'.
"I told you," Ghent hedged, "Pent obtained it. I don't know where..."
"Don't lie to me," Mara warned. "Or I'll turn you into a gizka!"
"You can't turn a person into an amphibian!" Ghent's eyes widened. "That violates the laws of biology, anatomy..."
"There is nothing that is not subject to the Force," Mara narrowed her green eyes, demonstratively raising her hand to snap her fingers. "So, my young friend with the secret mission? Are you going to talk?"
"What's there to say?" Ghent blinked.
"Where does Thrawn have the blueprints and specifications for Kuat's mass-shadow mines?" she asked.
"I told you — Pent obtained them," the slicer babbled. "How exactly — I don't know. I think they bought them..."
"The Kuatis would sooner sell their own mothers for organs than let anyone so much as glance at their gravity mines," Jade stated confidently. "And here you have a complete set of data — from 'bandage to bacta patch.' That kind of thing isn't for sale. Especially considering that about three hundred years ago, precisely such mines sparked a succession crisis on Kuat because the then-head of Kuat Drive Yards blew herself up on her own mines while traveling to Rothana via their secret hyperspace route leading from Molavar to Rothana. Without the correct identification codes, these mines will explode, pulling starships out of hyperspace using a gravity trawl principle and destroying them! This technology allowed Kuat to protect their most important secrets, fleet anchorage points — they would never sell such information. They themselves have so much money they could buy half the Core Worlds. Thrawn simply has nowhere to get that kind of money or technology that would INTEREST the Kuatis that much!"
"Maybe," Ghent said quietly, looking at her with frightened eyes. "They don't inform me where things came from. They just gave me chips with files; Pent hinted that he had obtained them and was supposed to work with this technology, but the Grand Admiral ordered it to be me..."
"What were you told to do?" Mara demanded, pinning the slicer with her gaze.
"To figure out how the IFF identification signal exchange system works," Ghent said, practically stuttering. "As I understood it — we need to deactivate the mines remotely so they don't react to the passage of ships. Either that, or find the necessary frequency of the recognition system transponder..."
"And in that case, ships can fly past the minefields and not take damage," Mara realized.
Considering that during the Empire, intelligence had information that the Kuatis produced such mines by the millions every standard week and seeded the spaces they didn't want enemy ships to approach, it becomes clear: the approaches to their facilities were mined so densely that not even a minokk would fly through without the right code.
Looking at the blueprints, Ghent was studying one of the simplest designs of interdiction mines.
Each more advanced mass-shadow mine is equipped with magnetic grapples and its own engines, so there's no hope that after the first detonations anything will remain of the intruder ship.
Until the ship is destroyed, the mines will move toward it, stick to the hull, and detonate.
And so on — until the entire ship explodes.
Or until the Kuatis get tired of messing around and board the intruder starship to have a 'heart-to-heart' chat with its crew and commander.
A terrifying weapon.
Despite the fact that in the Empire, weapons circulation was strictly controlled by special agencies, the Kuatis, as one of the main military contractors of the Imperial Armed Forces, were allowed many things.
Including the production of such explosive equipment.
However, knowing Palpatine, it would be no surprise if he allowed such experiments and self-defense measures to obtain effective defensive weapons at someone else's expense and use proven, working models for his own purposes.
The Emperor had plenty of secrets, so...
Mara felt a chill run down her spine.
Access to Byss is restricted.
Only by knowing the correct identification codes can one penetrate there via an artificial hyperspace route.
And if on this planet the Emperor's most important valuables and artifacts are gathered, then he certainly didn't create just two or three levels of security.
Consider only that the star superdreadnought 'Eclipse', under construction at Kuat Drive Yards, disappeared from the slipways and departed in an unknown direction along with the best Kuat engineers, shipbuilders, and other distinguished scientists.
Could it be that the Emperor also included mass-shadow mines in the defense system of the space he had seized within the Galactic Core?
And if so, then Ghent's study of this technology must mean that the Grand Admiral is seriously considering a strike on Byss.
Penetration into the very heart of hostile territories.
For that reason, Ghent must be tasked with figuring out how to get through the mass-shadow mines.
And Pent and his other clones (and certainly not only them) are obviously developing countermeasures against other defense systems of Byss and the territories under the Emperor's control.
Hence Mara felt anger boiling inside her.
Thrawn is sending her to the other end of the galaxy, while he intends to attack somewhere else?!
Perhaps he even deigned to come to the Emperor's doorstep and give him a good kick in the ass?!
Without her?!
"Mara," Ghent called her softly. "You know, I've been thinking... If the Kuatis are protecting their territories with these mines, then it looks like we're going to attack Kuat soon."
"Thrawn isn't stupid enough to do that," Mara said sharply, feeling her fingertips start to tingle. She even thought she heard the sound of electric crackling. She needed to calm down. It can't be that simple. Thrawn wouldn't deprive her of the chance to fight the Emperor. Certainly not now. Surely, if he intends to attack Byss, it won't be anytime soon. He wouldn't do that to her, knowing her feelings toward Palpatine and her desire to kill the bastard with her own hands. "Kuat is practically on the front line — on one side the Republicans, on the other the Alignment, the same Imperials. The Dominion's relations with both are not the warmest. Most likely, if we strike Kuat, both sides will attack the Dominion's forces. Simply because they can. No, I think Thrawn has something completely different in mind."
If only she knew what.
Mara tried to push aside the anger boiling inside her and clear her mind.
She succeeded, but not immediately.
But she managed.
So, what did the Grand Admiral have in mind?
Attack Byss?
Yes, with the fleet the Dominion has, it's possible.
But the problem is that four-fifths of the Dominion's ships simply have no crews!
Thrawn certainly proved he is a genius of tactics and strategy and can win even when outnumbered, but attacking Byss in the current situation is at least stupid and shortsighted.
No, he clearly planned something more subtle.
And surely the target is less large-scale than Kuat and Byss.
But what?
"How long ago did Pent obtain these blueprints?" she asked.
A wild thought visited the girl.
What if Ghent's assignment is not preparation for an attack?
But defense?
"Several months for sure," the young man said uncertainly. "I told you — this is classified information. And he himself is as nasty as I don't know what! Even if I asked him that question, he definitely wouldn't answer."
So, several months.
And yet the Dominion already has a considerable number of industrial facilities — and those are only the ones Mara herself knew about.
It is quite possible (and even obvious) that the Grand Admiral has up his sleeve a couple, or maybe a dozen planets where robotic factories have been built that produce these very mass-shadow mines around the clock.
And they are used to seed the space on approach to important Dominion systems — both in the core territories and on the periphery.
Considering the fact that the Grand Admiral decided to shift his attention from the Republicans and Imperials to the 'Zann Consortium' and is clearly preparing some powerful attack, isn't he trying to use Ghent to check the reliability of his own perimeter?
Yes, one might think he could say so directly, but we're talking about the Grand Admiral!
Practice shows: there are too few examples of him doing something hoping for only one outcome.
Most likely, this assignment has far-reaching consequences beyond a single operation.
Whatever the goal.
Mara furrowed her brows in puzzlement.
Good thing she managed to calm down.
Now everything becomes extremely clear.
Palpatine has thousands of ships at his disposal — and mostly these are line starships.
Surely — crewed with elite crews.
A massive assault on superior enemy forces — that's nothing like Grand Admiral Thrawn.
He won't venture into an uncharted fortified enemy territory with a handful of ships, understanding that he needs to secure his rear first.
And his rear is precisely threatened by the forces of the Zann Consortium.
Maybe the mines are somehow connected to them.
The girl preferred to immerse herself in reading the documents, more to avoid Ghent's tense gaze than actually hoping to find answers to her questions.
And, oddly enough, with a cool head, she immediately noticed a small detail that made Ghent's mission very, very dangerous.
"Do you know that the mine transceivers have a short range?" she asked.
She certainly knew that in the first models, the range was indeed practically tiny.
Minefields were built on the principle of exchanging identification signals picked up from moving starships.
Old mines didn't have time to react to the appearance of starships immediately, detecting them so close to themselves that they exploded behind the stern of a ship traveling in hyperspace without consequences.
Therefore, their first versions were built with the expectation that the first line of defense worked against ships approaching in realspace, and for those that broke the light barrier, it would transmit an intrusion signal to its other deadly companions.
Considering that hyperspace communication is much faster than any hyperdrive, then undoubtedly if not the first, then the second barrier will work.
That's why Kuat produced them in huge quantities for long decades — both before and after the Clone Wars.
"Little good," Ghent confirmed his awareness. "Only ten units of distance. But I console myself with the hope that they won't put me in a spacesuit in the middle of a minefield."
'Uh-huh,' Jade thought. 'They'll get you a blockade runner or a mine breaker, equipped with particle shields...'
She didn't have time to finish her thought — a buzzer announced that she had only one minute until exiting hyperspace.
The girl, returning his electronic toy to Ghent, headed to the cockpit.
Settling into the commander's seat, she pushed the hyperdrive control lever to the "zero" position the moment the digits on the instrument panel indicated the corresponding mark.
The Flame slipped out of hyperspace's embrace, and before Mara, in all its glory, lay the defensive fortifications of the Trogan system.
This world had never actually held any great value for the Empire.
Even the garrison on its surface was little more than a fiction—just a squad of stormtroopers and a couple of army companies.
Thrawn had once pulled a simple trick to revive this planet's economy—he'd simply shown an interest in it.
And almost immediately after his departure, following his "official refusal to support the Grand Admiral," the Imperial Remnants and private Imperial investors arrived on Trogan, investing millions (if not billions) to establish a foothold on the planet.
The Grand Admiral's reputation had allowed him to simply and artlessly plant the idea in people's minds that there was, after all, something interesting on Trogan.
Right up until the Dominion's formation, the Imperials had never been able to understand the reason for Thrawn's interest in this planet—one with no mineral resources or anything else strategically important.
Trogan unconditionally joined the Dominion almost within the first hours of its creation.
And tens of thousands of locals, no longer secretly but quite officially, enlisted in the Defense Forces.
And now Mara observed, in orbit around the planet, two dozen Golan-class defense stations, around which numerous light ships darted—Corellian corvettes and frigates, several ancient Consular-class cruisers that had seen better days, still bearing the marks of the Clone Wars.
Added to all this were the numerous anti-air and planetary defense systems deployed on the planet itself.
And an imposing garrison of stormtroopers, supported by armored vehicles and the regular army, which had been stationed here not so long ago.
Unlike the systems of the core worlds, the garrisons on the frontier planets consisted not only of their own recruits and voluntary militia.
But also one or two legions, fully equipped with weaponry and heavy hardware, supported by several squadrons of interceptors and gunships, likewise serving their duty.
Not to mention the numerous TIE fighters stationed in the hangars of the Golan stations.
Mara sometimes wondered how, given the shortage of stormtrooper personnel, the Grand Admiral had managed to fill the garrisons of the frontier planets.
Makem Te, Trogan, Columex, Kelada, Chasin, Garos IV…
Each one required a garrison—and given the distance from the core worlds, it had to be large enough to repel an invasion force commensurate with the defenses.
We're talking about a legion of stormtroopers alone on each of those planets.
Back in Imperial times, you could station a company or two of army troops or stormtroopers on some backwater world—reinforcements could always arrive from a sector base.
If not to save the embattled comrades, then at least to punish the attackers by the time they got there.
In the conditions the Dominion existed under, that was an unaffordable luxury.
Mara, though she didn't have full information on how many assault legions the Dominion currently had at its disposal, knew for certain that after Sluis Van, the Dominion's Stormtrooper Corps had suffered heavy casualties.
Yes, Thrawn no longer needed to resort to forced military conscription—there were plenty of volunteers wanting to join the regular army. Though they first had to serve in the Defense Forces for several months and earn the appropriate reputation.
But from the frontier, humans and other sentients flocked to the army and the Defense Forces fleet with even more enthusiasm than during the Empire.
The problem was that the planets Thrawn controlled beyond the core worlds weren't particularly heavily populated. And after the grueling service in the Defense Forces (differing little from Imperial conscript service), the percentage of those willing to continue a military career on a professional basis dropped significantly.
But for maintaining the defensive installations on the planets and in orbit, this influx of volunteers was sufficient.
The question was—where did Thrawn get an extra six or seven legions of stormtroopers, if the regular fleet ships (whose crew requirements consumed the output of all the cloning cylinders) were understrength? On the Star Destroyers, instead of the regulation legion of stormtroopers, at best a regiment was stationed.
Even if Thrawn had reorganized some stormtroopers from naval infantry into ground units, the numbers still didn't add up.
You couldn't take his hypothetical eight legions, form six full-strength ones, station them on planets, and still crew the Star Destroyers with battalions or regiments—and there were already nearly a hundred of those in the active regular fleet.
Not just Imperial-class, of course—a significant portion of the active Destroyers were Victory-class captured from the New Republic, whose crews were occupied patrolling the core worlds as combat integration training.
But in any case, the fact remained—the Grand Admiral had somehow obtained a huge number of troops. At minimum, six legions, which he'd garrisoned on frontier planets.
And there were other systems, whose affiliation with the Dominion wasn't widely known in the galaxy…
In theory, there should be combat units there too.
And the question arose—where did Thrawn get them from?
Mara resolutely pushed those unneeded thoughts from her head and set her ship's transponder to a specific frequency—one that should be instantly detected by the scanners of the flagship Star Destroyer of the local regular fleet squadron.
Several plump transport ships passing through customs nervously hugged the far side, away from the six regular fleet Star Destroyers guarding the system.
One Imperial-class, four Victory-class, and one Gladiator, behind which loomed an interdictor cruiser, its nose aimed at the vector of entry into the system.
And that was without mentioning the dozens of Defense Forces ships flying around the system, clearly ready to attack at any moment.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mara caught sight of some impressively large object drifting in orbit, surrounded by a multitude of small ships and a dozen cargo barges.
But from behind the Golan's hull, she could only make out the general shape of an almost two-kilometer-long cylindrical object, to one part of which five cargo ships were currently docking—super-transports, in whose holds you could carry even a Star Destroyer's engine.
The comm unit chirped.
"Star Destroyer Red Gauntlet calling private yacht The Flame," came the duty officer's voice. "Transponder signal recognized. Omega-Gamma-Seven. State confirmation code."
Several patrol TIE Interceptors appeared conspicuously off the starboard side.
Mara spoke a sequence of numbers and letters from the ancient Tionese alphabet into the microphone, completing the sequence.
"Acknowledged," the duty officer replied dryly. "Your flight vector is six. Altitude, three-seven. The station commander has been notified of your arrival, Hand of Thrawn. Upon approach to the object, you will be given a landing vector. Good day."
With that, the controller signed off.
"So what do we do?" asked Ghent, appearing on the bridge.
"Fly where we were told," Mara said, steering the ship toward the designated vector. "I could, of course, arrange an orbital cruise for you, but something tells me the local defense commander wouldn't appreciate it much."
"Even given your status?" Ghent was surprised. "I thought Thrawn's personal agent flew wherever she wanted and did whatever she wanted."
"Yeah, I used to think that too," Jade snorted.
"So what changed?" the Slicer inquired.
"One day I came out of the shower and saw Thrawn sitting on my couch," the red-haired beauty sighed.
"Oh… and?" Ghent blinked.
Clearly, the guy was expecting some thrilling tale, like the smuggler stories he used to love listening to while working for Karrde.
"And… my world will never be the same," Mara sighed sadly, realizing her course was taking her directly toward the two-kilometer cylinder, which was taking on the features of an archaic spaceship as she approached.
"Curiouser and curiouser," Jade squinted, recognizing the starship's bow. "An Indomitable-class heavy dreadnought. Looks like, Ghent, your worries about being in a spacesuit in the middle of a minefield were unfounded. Wherever you end up going, you'll be traveling in comfort. Just not very fast."
* * *
The ceremony preceding the start of negotiations felt more like a cheap farce.
But Leia, watching the latest musicians' performance with boredom, understood that Lord Bonteri had spent a very tidy sum on this show.
What he'd done it for, though, wasn't clear.
Throwing dust in their eyes?
Showing off his wealth?
Or simply displaying an arrogant aristocratic snobbery that had become utterly alien to Leia in recent years?
Either way, the already difficult-to-arrange negotiations were being postponed indefinitely.
Musicians, dancers and dancers, jugglers, magicians, singers, knife-throwers…
It was starting to feel from the outside like she'd stumbled into some pre-industrial aristocrats' celebration, marking a blood alliance or a successful wild beast hunt.
Pomposity, lack of taste, and a v-e-e-ery archaic way of entertaining guests, who had grown bored of it all after the first or second act.
Leia looked wistfully at C-3PO, for the first time in her life envying a protocol droid its ability to silently endure all these damnable procedures with the dignity of a stone statue.
In the past, she would have certainly shown interest, to maintain diplomatic etiquette…
BUT SIX HOURS STRAIGHT?!
By the Force, have mercy—the day had already passed midnight; what sane person was talking about negotiations at this hour?
She looked at Lando, who, like her, was dressed in expensive garments, watching the ongoing entertainment with the unruffled demeanor of a true aristocrat.
He kept exchanging words with Bonteri, discussing the dancers' costumes, the jugglers' skill, and the musicians' artistry.
Typical male conversations that inevitably, again and again, circled back to discussing the merits of various dance troupes from races like Zeltron, Twi'leks, and Togruta.
The first two—Lando liked, as did most of the galaxy's male population.
Bonteri, meanwhile, actively favored the Togruta.
Why his opinion diverged from the common one, Leia wasn't interested.
She was certain that if Han had been beside her, he would have commented on her time spent here as nothing other than "serving a diplomatic sentence."
The young woman practically felt the weight of this event pressing down on her, and only out of a sense of duty to the Alliance did she endure this moral torment, repeating to herself over and over that the House of Tion had a penchant for posturing and flaunting its status before guests.
Finally, the bit-musicians finished their latest musical piece and disappeared behind an impromptu curtain.
"Minister Organa-Solo, did you enjoy the performance?" Bonteri inquired.
He turned to the waiting, bored Leia, watching her with a slight squint.
"It is beyond praise," the young woman commented modestly, taking a conciliatory sip of fruit juice from her goblet.
"Some of the finest masters of their craft in our court," Bonteri boasted. "Each of them is a treasure in their own right. A unique talent that would have withered if my House hadn't noticed them and brought them into its service."
'So they're not even hired performers,' Leia thought.
It turned out all these entertainers were courtiers.
By the most conservative estimates, the services of such troupes, retained permanently by one noble House or another in the galaxy, cost an astronomical sum.
Bail Organa had once said that if he'd followed this tradition and kept court artists, he would never have been able to finance the Alliance to Restore the Republic.
"Indeed," Leia said. "You have a knack for spotting talent."
"It's not about talent," Bonteri declared, suddenly serious. "It's about the ability to see to the root of problems. I found them in their time of need and brought them to the House's court. Their mastery was honed by the finest instructors in the galaxy. And now, when they give concerts in our sector or others, my House's name resounds across the galaxy. People see that we patronize the arts. Others know that we welcome numerous technical specialists and give them work. Even Imperial military personnel who abandoned their former ambitions—even they chose to serve my House. Because they made the right decision. And haven't regretted it once during their entire service. Remind me, what arts or sciences did your family patronize on Alderaan, Minister?"
Leia ignored the barb, denying the insolent man the chance to witness her embarrassment.
"Viceroy Organa had different tastes and preferences," she said, pretending thirst was overcoming her again. "He cared for refugees. For example—he gave shelter to some of the few Caamasi after their world was cold-bloodedly destroyed by the Empire."
It was a good thing she hadn't insisted and dragged Chewbacca here—the Wookiee would have definitely torn the head off the head of House Tion.
"Yes, yes," Bonteri replied indifferently. "We've heard about your adoptive father's hobbies. On one hand, he shelters refugees; on the other, he trains and funds fighters against the regime. For instance, he was very fond of hunting."
Leia endured this insinuation as well—a direct reference to the death of Lord Tion, killed by Leia after he'd revealed her involvement with the Alliance. It had been made to look like a hunting accident… So, she'd been wrong—the House of Tion hadn't forgotten this.
Leia mentally performed several mind-calming exercises that Luke had taught her, and only then continued:
"I see you have time not only to patronize many arts but also to gather various kinds of gossip," she said in an icy tone.
"Well, everyone has their own flaws and virtues," Bonteri smiled charmingly. "About your biological father, they say he was fond of strangling sentients with the Force. And renegotiating the terms of his deals."
Lando, who had decided at that moment to treat himself to some appetizers, choked, and only Bonteri's slaps on the back kept him from suffocating at the festive table.
All the while, the head of House Tion looked Leia straight in the eyes.
And in his gaze, she felt the icy breath of hatred and contempt.
This time, she failed to restrain herself in time.
"I thought it wasn't customary for aristocrats to dig through someone else's personal life," she said through clenched teeth.
What her own father had done to the galaxy, to her, to her loved ones—in her understanding, it didn't deserve forgiveness even though he'd died saving the galaxy from the mad Emperor.
Even now, she couldn't sleep peacefully at the mention of his name.
She only had to close her eyes, and she'd see the walls of the Death Star's detention cell again.
And the black sphere of the Imperial interrogator droid.
Getting closer and closer to her.
Closer.
Closer.
"I thought we gathered here to discuss entirely different things," Lando said, taking advantage of the fact that during the performance he'd managed to establish a personal rapport with Bonteri, making his intervention in the dialogue not entirely out of place.
At that, Leia forced herself to stop, feeling the irritation at Bonteri getting the better of her, thereby giving him the opportunity to drag her into his petty games.
The protocol mandated she show all possible diplomatic courtesy in dealing with the envoy.
Right now, she wished more than anything that Han or Luke were nearby.
Or that she possessed Darth Vader's ability to intimidate an interlocutor with a single look or gesture.
But she didn't have a stylish black armor suit or a terrifying helmet with her.
"I think we should move on to the purpose of our meeting after all," Leia continued. "The leisurely nature of the event isn't quite appropriate for an official discussion of the situation and your wishes, Lord Bonteri."
The envoy's eyes looked most like drunken cherries as he turned them toward her.
"Of course," he said, measuring Lando with a withering glance. "Follow me, Minister. We'll speak in private."
With these words, he had just shown Calrissian that their pleasant chat and discussion of feminine charms meant absolutely nothing to the head of House Tion, and never had.
If before Lando's intervention it might have seemed they'd found common ground, that both men's values aligned, then now…
Now it looked as though the representative of a noble House had merely alleviated his loneliness and boredom by condescending to converse with a commoner.
'Oh, Great Force, what baseness!' Leia thought. 'He's literally wiping his feet on us, knowing that an alliance with the Hegemon is to our advantage.'
"I'll wait for you here, Minister," Calrissian said quietly, having also lost his cheerfulness and joviality by the time they both reached the doors of a lavishly furnished office, into which, leaving one guard outside the door, the head of House Tion disappeared.
"Sit down," Bonteri said demandingly, pointing her to a soft chair to the right of his desk, at the head of which he seated himself. "Let's talk."
Leia was simply stunned by what was happening.
An unheard-of insult to the Alliance!
Unprecedented in its audacity.
No well-bred aristocrat, when dealing with an envoy from another state, would allow himself a commanding tone, much less point out the spot where the host of the meeting wanted to see him.
'To hell with all this diplomatic etiquette,' Leia thought angrily, lowering herself into the chair opposite Bonteri.
He merely chuckled, appraising her defiance of his wishes.
"And here I was wondering how long you'd last," he smirked crookedly.
"My father taught me patience," Leia declared proudly, remembering Bail Organa with gratitude.
"I thought your biological father wasn't known for patience," Bonteri snorted. "He punished the slightest infraction."
Leia decided to ignore this jab and the latest identification of her with Darth Vader.
"I confess, I kept waiting for you to leap from your seat, draw a lightsaber, and start swinging it, smashing everything around," Bonteri said dreamily, drawing on his cigar.
Leia prepared to cough, but unexpectedly realized the tobacco smoke didn't affect her at all.
On the contrary—the smell was unusually pleasant, not harsh, with overtones of fresh flowers.
Which indicated the smoker had clearly splurged on elite tobacco varieties.
"Of course, if you wanted to see that so badly, you could have simply asked," she said. Well, since the conversation had turned to audacity, why not?
"Thank you, but it's merely a desire inspired by the past," Bonteri said. "Childhood memories, youthful infatuation…"
Leia hesitated:
"You were in love with a Jedi?"
Tactless, certainly, but Bonteri himself was no model of diplomacy and good manners.
"Very, very long ago," he said dreamily. "But, in the end, I chose to serve as Senator from Onderon, and she chose to continue her apprenticeship. Under your father, incidentally."
"What?!" Leia was taken aback.
"You didn't know?" Bonteri raised an eyebrow. "When your father was still a Jedi, he had a Padawan. A Togruta, whom he called 'Snips.' Her real name, of course, was different—Ahsoka Tano."
Well, at least now Bonteri's fascination with Togruta made sense.
But Leia had, in principle, never heard that Anakin Skywalker had ever had a Padawan.
According to the records and chronicles she and Luke had managed to recover, their father, in his "Jedi years," hadn't been known for patience, wisdom, or a desire to teach—a point Obi-Wan Kenobi had noted in his writings.
"No, this part of my family's history has some gaps," Leia said.
"It's never too late to fill in the gaps," Bonteri said, tapping his ash into an ashtray carved from a single piece of enormous precious stone.
Leia mentally estimated that the cost of such a "trinket" could equal the price of a light cruiser.
Really, there was no need to mention luxury—Bonteri's office was furnished with countless art objects, many of which were considered long lost.
"A notable little item," the head of House Tion declared, twirling the ashtray in his hands. "A gift from a wealthy merchant who decided to enter our market and showed me respect by presenting all this."
He pointed with obvious pleasure at the art objects surrounding him.
"Very nice," Leia replied dryly. "But you called me for a diplomatic conversation, not to boast about your wealth."
"As far as I know, you operate in this direction," Bonteri continued, as if not hearing her reproach, "but you try not to publicize your kinship with Darth Vader. And you carefully avoid the fact that he was once a Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker. It's curious—your father, as a Jedi, actively hunted his fellow members of the Jedi Order."
Leia blinked, once again stunned that the head of House Tion knew so much about her family.
"Everyone has their own little secrets, of the personal category," Leia replied, suddenly feeling helpless.
The New Republic and the Alliance had carefully skirted this page in her biography to avoid unwanted negativity.
And it turned out someone knew their entire background and wasn't shy about "trumping" with knowing more than others.
Lord Bonteri continued the conversation:
"If you want my opinion, the Emperor was wrong not to eliminate all the Jedi. Unfinished business creates additional difficulties."
"Do the Jedi Knights really inspire such fear in you?" Leia asked quietly.
Though she didn't care for the topic of conversation, she hadn't given up hope of extracting additional information.
The head of House Tion took a deep drag and exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke.
"Not at all," he said. "But I believe the Jedi are a relic of the past. And the past must be discarded if it causes difficulties in the present and problems in the future. Destroying the Jedi using a former Jedi is an extremely unpopular decision. That's probably why the Emperor gave Darth Vader his new name."
Leia continued the discussion.
"The Emperor, whose memory you regard with such reverence, also possessed the Force, just like Darth Vader."
"The Emperor has particular powers," Bontri replied, in a tone that suggested he was stating the obvious. "Besides, he was the Emperor. And Vader ended up a traitor. As I understand it, he was one of the culprits in the Emperor's death. Here's another confirmation of the harmfulness of all these otherworldly forces."
"And yet the Jedi survived, and their Order will be restored. My brother is working on that right now. In a few years, new Jedi will return to their mission — to be the guardians of the galaxy."
"Perhaps," Bontri replied, taking another drag. "When your Order of tricksters and deceivers rises again, tell them not to stick their noses into the territory of the Tion Hegemony. Otherwise, they'll be exterminated here like wild beasts or psychopaths."
"Isn't that asking a bit much, offering an alliance to the Alliance?" Leia narrowed her eyes, completely at a loss as to what this boor wanted from her.
"I want to be heard by all our neighbors," Bontri said in a tone that brooked no argument. "We have no intention of catering to the whims of the Alliance, the New Republic, or the Empire, whatever they choose to call themselves. All we care about is territorial inviolability, the integrity of the Hegemony within the borders that were historically violated."
"First and foremost — by the Emperor," Leia noted. "The one you spoke of so enthusiastically just a moment ago."
"You're as much a politician as he was, Minister," Bontri reminded her. "And politicians, as we know, are prone to making unpopular decisions. But I won't stop respecting Palpatine because of certain encroachments on the historical and territorial interests of the Tion Hegemony. As a politician, an organizer, he was unparalleled. Neither before him nor after him have such talents been born."
"And yet, you approached us with a proposal for an alliance..."
"For negotiations, not an alliance. We were misunderstood," Bontri declared, taking another drag.
Leia, who had personally seen the official note, silently let Bontri's latest jab slide.
No, the conversation in the message had been directly about an alliance.
She didn't hesitate to remind him.
"Agreements are being revised, Princess," Bontri declared. "Especially in light of recent events."
"What are you talking about?" Leia tensed.
"I can well imagine you're not aware of the recent events in the Thanium Worlds sector," Bontri continued. "So I'll tell you. As it happens, my representatives found common ground with the government of that sector and the worlds within it. We began negotiations for peaceful unification. Since the Thanium Worlds are in a rather precarious position — they don't have sufficiently powerful armed forces of their own — we offered them support. Again, to avoid alarming the Alliance, we didn't send our military fleet, composed of Imperial-built ships, but rather our hired forces. Which the Alliance struck some time ago and completely destroyed."
"That can't be," Leia shook her head.
"So someone else in the galaxy has Mon Calamari star cruisers?" Bontri specified. "Don't even think about the New Republic — they have enough problems of their own. And not a single free starship. You, on the other hand, are a different matter."
"We would never attack a neutral state!" Leia insisted, pressing her point.
"Is that so?" Bontri snorted, activating his workstation and turning the monitor so she could see what was written on the screen. "Read — this is my intelligence data."
It took the young woman a few seconds.
"Some kind of nonsense," she voiced her opinion.
"I don't think so," Bontri said threateningly. "And the sectors we were negotiating with don't think so either. Five Mon Calamari star cruisers of the MC80a 'Liberty' type launched from your base on Lantilles. Exactly the same number of ships, exactly the same design, struck our base on Galidraan. Then they withdrew. Our reserves pursued them — and were intercepted, destroyed, and completely annihilated."
"Grand Admiral Thrawn once captured our ships and used them for provocations more than once," Leia blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Yes, but Thrawn is dead," Bontri declared. "And according to our information, obtained from a reliable source, all the Mon Calamari star cruisers the Dominion had were sold by Vice Admiral Pellaeon to the New Republic. In exchange, Pellaeon received a large amount of Imperial ground military equipment. And this happened long before the attack was carried out. Almost immediately after the New Republic abandoned Coruscant and fell back to the Mid Rim, or even further."
"What is this source?" Leia asked.
"A trustworthy one," Bontri replied.
"You expect me to take your word for it?" the former princess persisted.
"Why not?" The head of House Tion pulled an information chip from the computer. "Here — all the copies of the documents. Including the data, identifiers, and engine frequencies of those star cruisers that served in the Dominion. As you can see — not a single one of them matches the ones our observation stations spotted near Galidraan."
"The Dominion could have had more ships," Leia said, knowing her words sounded so pathetic she didn't even believe them herself.
"I could just as easily say that you carried out this attack and are now clumsily trying to deflect suspicion," Bontri countered.
There was no arguing with that.
Leia took the data chip, intending to verify everything thoroughly.
"And now what?" she asked.
"The situation has changed," Bontri declared. "I won't be understood if I enter into an open alliance with those who have, to put it mildly, fouled the air we all breathe. The Thanium Worlds, Indrexu, and Keldrath are refusing to continue negotiations with us. The Cronese Mandate is openly arming itself, considering us weak. Allied Tion has also broken off unification talks, although Moff Gronn of all people should not be contradicting me in his sector's current state of complete military depletion. This doesn't suit me. These territories are Tion's historical interests. And they must be ours."
"The Thanium Worlds ceased to be part of Tion after the death of Xim the Despot," Leia stated. "So..."
"That's why I was negotiating peaceful annexation," Bontri cut her off harshly. "And everything was fine until your military got itchy fingers. Now they see me as weak. And I have no desire to shed Tion blood to clean up a mess you made!"
"Your accusations are groundless," Leia refuted the insinuations. "The Alliance would never attack neutral worlds! We preach republican values, including the freedom of self-determination..."
"Did you preach those same values when you attacked Lianna?" Bontri asked. "And don't tell me that was the New Republic. And the Ciutric Hegemony was also attacked by the New Republic. The government of which included all those who now lead the Alliance. So forgive me, but I have a living example of how your General Bel Iblis, without any government authorization, conducted his military operations against the Empire. Which, in fact, is why Grand Admiral Thrawn attacked you. So let's speak the language of jurisprudence. We have completely identical situations — covert attacks carried out by your troops."
"Under the identifiers of our troops," Leia stated.
"Under whatever flags you like," Bontri said indifferently. "Why you did it is your business. But there will be no open alliance between us. Not for the next few years, at least."
"Then I see no point in continuing this dialogue..."
"There is a point," the head of House Bontri declared. "Help me connect the territories around Tion, including Lianna which you occupy, and your Alliance will receive regular funding to continue its military campaign. I will allow your ships unrestricted passage through the territory of the Tion Hegemony and all sectors annexed to it. Duty-free trade and many other kinds of trade concessions. I'm sure that, one way or another, my proposal will be of interest to you."
"I need to discuss this with the head of state," Leia stated, realizing that the negotiations had clearly gone far beyond what had been agreed upon with Mon Mothma and Bel Iblis. "I am confident we can provide evidence that our starships were not involved in the attack on your mercenaries."
"I hope they will be so convincing that even the most skeptical sectors and planetary rulers will unanimously believe you," Bontri smirked. "Don't miss your chance, Princess. A year or two of secret, fruitful cooperation, mutual formal reconciliation, and no one will even remember that you once slipped up. Give me what I want, and I will support you in your war with the Empire; if necessary, I will repair your ships for you and supply you with the necessary weapons to continue the war. Should the need arise, we will gladly assist you in a civil war with the New Republic. But only after you restore our historical borders. As I see them."
"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Leia asked. "If they don't want to negotiate with you, why would they respond to us?"
"What do I care how you turn their heads and get what you want?" Bontri smirked. "To survive, you need markets for your products, weapons, and equipment. Not to mention the money you need like air, and immediately. I am ready to provide it all. In exchange, I demand the Tion territories back. As I see it, you're quite good at organizing diversions against superior enemy forces. I think if unknown forces start eliminating radical generals and rulers in neighboring sectors, the population will want stability and peace. Which the Tion Hegemony can give them."
In essence, he's forcing us to get our hands dirty by acting as aggressors, Leia realized. And in the meantime, he'll present himself as the protector of the weak and dispossessed.
A win-win situation.
In that latter role, the Rebel Alliance had managed to defeat the Empire and proclaim the New Republic.
"I will speak with the Alliance leadership," Leia stated crisply. "You will receive an answer as soon as it is formulated."
"Excellent," Bontri smiled. "That works for me. But I wouldn't advise dragging it out — I can wait a week or two. Then I'll solve the problems myself."
So why don't you solve them without our help? Leia thought, deciding to use the Force to learn her interlocutor's intentions, but realized with horror that she couldn't.
The cold that had pervaded her the entire time she'd been in the residence of House Tion had become even more vile.
She couldn't hold back and grimaced.
"Don't turn up your nose, dear Princess," Bontri interpreted her actions in his own way. "The cloyingly sweet political life that Viceroy Organa accustomed you to is over. Relationships are built solely on mercenary gain. Grand Admiral Thrawn and his Dominion showed the entire galaxy what happens when states and individuals act solely out of pragmatic self-interest. Get used to it — you're unlikely to encounter a friendly atmosphere in negotiations anywhere else."
* * *
The interference from the masking field is no longer even noticeable.
A holographic recording, received from one of Captain Hoffner's clones, appeared before me.
"Vice Admiral Pellaeon, the negotiations in the Tion Hegemony have taken place," he addressed the Dominion's military commander.
As it happens, certain agents like Hoffner or Ferrier, as well as their clones, are not to be trusted.
That's why, even during direct communication with some of them, I use a masking program developed by Mr. Ghent to deceive the Republican commander who led the Bellator-class fast dreadnought straight into our hands.
That's why they, and many other individuals, believe they are communicating with Pellaeon.
"Leia Organa Solo received from Lord Bontri a copy of the records transmitted to him," the recording continued. "The Alliance mission has departed Tion. They have been given terms — within a maximum of two standard weeks, either accept the offer and help Tion take control of the neighboring sectors, or Lord Bontri will act independently. A connection has been confirmed between the destroyed group in the Thanium Worlds sector and Bontri himself. To the Alliance, it was presented as a group of mercenaries hired by Bontri to guard the Thanium Worlds. A detailed report is attached to this file."
The hologram dissolved.
I silently downloaded the data from the message onto an information chip, wiping the communication traces.
Connecting the chip to an isolated deck, I immersed myself in reading.
Yes, I don't need to be present in every hot spot in the galaxy to control the execution of my plan.
After all, right now I'm interested in the eastern part of the galaxy.
Death and fury will arrive in the northeast and a number of other worlds, sectors, and territories a little later.
When the master of all the gifted valuables learns where they are now.
And then we'll see how convenient it is to pull chestnuts out of the fire with someone else's hands.
For now...
Let's read what's happening in the Tion Hegemony and how masterfully Lord Bontri has led Leia Organa Solo by the nose.
There's clearly a lot of interesting stuff there.
And at the very least, the fact that ysalamiri are present in the residence of House Tion.
Which already speaks volumes.