Ten years, two months, and twenty-five days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fifth year, second month, and twenty-fifth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and ten days since the Arrival.)
Irv tensely scratched his forehead with his nails, trying to figure out exactly where in his budget calculations the error had crept in.
Because as it stood, after completing the current mining mission, the balance sheet of the Colicoid Swarm and its command wouldn't show a single positive figure.
After repairs, refueling, outfitting the destroyer's air wing with Vulture droid starfighters produced by the Dominion on special order, and paying the crew their due wages, the money Thrawn would pay them for all their hardships would simply fly apart across the aforementioned expense items.
Though by his estimates, about half a million credits should have remained as a reserve.
Somewhere there was a financial hole, and it was driving him crazy.
He had to check the invoices over and over to understand what was happening with the financial reports.
And when he had almost given up hope, he found the answer.
Right where Irv didn't want to see it.
"I understand a lot, but here I'm forced to admit my powerlessness," Vane solemnly announced, showing up without any preamble — no warning via comlink or even a simple door chime — in the spacious room that had miraculously survived all these years and battles at the very top of the carrier star destroyer's spinal fin.
Irv looked up, watching his half-blood friend descend the right staircase wing, glancing around.
"Fancy digs you've got here," he assessed the cabin's decor.
"The furnishings haven't changed since construction," Irv commented. "Neimoidians know luxury. And bad taste. Rumor has it that in just such a cabin aboard the Invisible Hand, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was held after General Grievous attacked Coruscant at the end of the Clone Wars. Though I did put in my own desk."
The man leaned back in his chair, watching his friend carefully study the labels on the liquor bottles.
Then, with a sigh (having apparently remembered he was on watch), Yazuo found a chair and sat down heavily, making it clear that exhaustion and fatigue had him barely standing.
"And to what do I owe the visit?" Irv asked.
"We've arrived at the destination point," Vane reported. "Do you know where it is?"
"I won't claim to be a genius of astronavigation, but I can use reference books," Irv said. "The northwestern edge of the Bosph sector."
"Word has it that the Red Star is hunting around here somewhere," Vane said dreamily. "And supposedly the sector is already under Dominion control. Ah, if only I could run into Shohashi..."
"I don't think the Butcher of Atoa would be thrilled to meet a privateer, even one in Dominion service," the commander of the Colicoid Swarm summarized. "So, what's our plan for the mining?"
"We deployed the mass-shadow mines; the ships are working on setting up the barriers," Vane shrugged. "The crew is resting, the watchmen are deep in a game of sabbacc... Same as always on corsair ships."
"Drop that pirate freewheeling right now," Irv raised his voice. "We have a good chance to prove ourselves loyal to the Grand Admiral. And I don't want anything to go wrong."
"You think he's stopped wondering what we want to do behind his back?"
"I think it's no accident we were assigned to work inside the Dominion," Irv said. "Whether Thrawn has started to trust us or not, the end goal doesn't change — we need to find a way to check the remaining CIS planets and their bases, to look for anything still serviceable for further exploitation."
"You think Thrawn, with all his resources, would need to buy old Separatist factories from us?" Vane wondered. "I'd think he has everything he could need..."
"Let's say that's true," Irv agreed. "But it doesn't fundamentally change the situation, my friend. Building new factories — from foundation to roof — costs indecent amounts of money. And when you're offered equipment that's outdated, yes, but still capable of producing weapons, it's hard to refuse. Modernizing is always easier than creating something new. Especially when you're exporting old, but modernized, weapons across the galaxy — you clearly need plenty of industrial capacity. Thrawn has made many enemies, and I imagine he won't play dead forever. Someday he'll step out of the shadows — and I suspect something grand will be behind it. For example, a military campaign against the New Republic or the Empire. So yes, I think he'd never refuse even old factories. Especially since he loves giving new life to old toys. Buzz droids, B-1s, droidekas, droid starfighters, abandoned Imperial technologies like stygium-based cloaking."
"Maybe he just has a fetish for it?" Vane suggested. "Collecting old toys..."
"So far, all I see is that these 'toys' help him kick the enemy's ass," Irv countered. "And I haven't heard of another factory in the Dominion producing second-model droidekas. No, only the one evacuated from Hypori is running. So if we find another like it — we'll be rich for sure."
"I still believe that honestly working for any government won't earn you a huge pile of credits," Vane expressed his opinion. "And how long has it been? Almost thirty years since the Clone Wars ended. If our targets haven't been looted by other enterprising fellows like us, who knows what else might have happened to them. Remember Horn — that planet is unstable, and with the wrong approach to exploitation, all the buildings could easily turn into ruins. And you want to spend a lot of time and money running around in a star destroyer looking for old junk."
"Maybe they are ruined," Irv agreed. "But until we check, we won't know for sure. This and subsequent tasks will show us one simple thing — if Thrawn has started to trust us, he might let us out of Dominion space for free hunting. And then we'll be able to spread our wings..."
"How? You yourself said the Colicoid Swarm might have Dominion tracking devices."
"That's exactly why I need time to earn some money, upgrade the ship so it takes as little damage in combat as possible, and then I can start various journeys," Irv explained. "Besides, we don't just have the Colicoid Swarm — we also have the Gozanti."
"That flying armored safe?" Yazuo repeated.
"Not a bad ship for small-scale reconnaissance," said the Colicoid Swarm's commander. "The mechanics have finally finished dismantling and rechecking it for any 'beacons.' So as soon as we reassemble it — you'll head out on reconnaissance as soon as we get a new assignment. While I simulate vigorous activity for the benefit of the Dominion, you'll make sure we check at least a couple of planets. After all, even if those planets have ruined CIS factories and bases, nothing stops us from using them as our own base."
"Trust the Dominion, but do your own work?" Vane chuckled.
"Exactly," Irv agreed. "Thrawn's not bad, of course, but as you rightly noted, he has a huge number of enemies. Nearly half the galaxy is on his enemy list... Some of them might get to him. And then, if all his efforts — as often happens with Imperials — end up in the dura-steel toilet, it'll be better to have the option to calmly wave goodbye to the Grand Admiral and his henchmen and get far away."
"Don't forget that the entire pirate and privateer community knows we worked for him."
"I remember. That's why I'm saying — it's good to have a place to lie low," Irv reminded him. "The galaxy has a short memory, judging by how often its inhabitants like to walk around on garden tools. So the sooner we find a base we can reach quickly and hole up in, preferably with some equipment on the surface compatible with the Colicoid Swarm's systems, the better. Ideally with foundries — for smelting armor. That's why I'm not counting on finding any shipyards; I'm betting on droid factories instead. The difference in smelters isn't that big — and it can always be adjusted in the foundry's central computer. I've already fought on one side in a conflict where part of the galaxy waged war on another. I don't really want to see what's left this time."
"If," Vane emphasized, "that happens."
"If," Irv agreed. "If this guy, who manages to light chairs under every major player in the galaxy, can virtuously wriggle out and not get into a war with all or several major galactic states that wish the Dominion ill, then..."
"Then?" Vane clarified.
"Then I'll hang my privateer's tunic on the back of this chair, park the Colicoid Swarm somewhere secluded, and go hire on with him in the regular fleet," Irv smirked. "Because the ability to wear out your enemies without fighting them directly is a very rare gift — almost lost in our time."
"I thought better of you," Vane put on a sad face. "Ah... What about robbing and killing until the end of your days?"
"Don't start crying just yet," Irv smirked. "These are only very rough outlines that need detailed development. The general concept is this: if Thrawn actually shows prudence and doesn't succumb to megalomania — thinking he can fight everyone and win, like Zsinj did in his time — then fine, I'll share some of the bases and CIS foundries I find with him. If not... Well, then we'll have several bases, and one day we'll just go on a raid from which we won't return."
"Sounds as sneaky as promising to marry a drunk Twi'lek while stripping her clothes off in a cantina toilet," Yazuo declared.
Irv flinched and grimaced in disgust.
"I don't even want to know where you got that comparison. Better go to the hangar and oversee the assembly of the Gozanti. Pick yourself a few capable and loyal guys for the crew. I have a feeling — what we're doing now, mining something we're not being told about, is a prelude to something very big."
* * *
Major Tierce silently placed a datapad with operational reports from the last couple of days on my desk.
"Perimeter is active along the entire border, sir," he said quietly. "No new infiltration attempts detected. Scouts are moving toward the planets from which the enemy fleets launched their attack. Data on the defensive systems of those planets will be arriving in real time."
"Thank you, Major," I said. "What about the investigation into that graveyard we have outside our hull?"
"Analysis of the communications system logs indicates that the other frigates and star destroyers self-destructed a short time after the Merciless," came the news. "Meanwhile, no enemy communications systems were detected on any of our fleet's ships or at the observation station."
"Interesting fact," I leaned forward, rubbing my chin with my thumb and forefinger, and nodded to the major to sit across from me. "So the decision to self-destruct was made by the ships' crews without authorization from above."
"The shipboard counterintelligence officers think so too," Grodin nodded. "At this point, we're not sure whether it's the initiative of sleeper agents programmed to destroy the starships after the commander's death, or the work of some mechanism. Without actual data, we can only hypothesize."
"There can be any number of guesses," I agreed. "What about our new passenger?"
"Medical has completed her scan; all the tests assigned to her under the filtration program are ready," Grodin reported. "We can confidently say she is not a clone, has no hidden or implanted equipment, no cavities in bone tissue, no growths on internal organs. Her DNA sample matches the sample of Padawan Maris Brood from thirty years ago, which was stored in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, and a copy of which was in the possession of the Ubiqtorate."
And Mara Jade, before leaving the Chimaera, had said she didn't sense even a hint of hidden motives or plans from her "charge."
Only poorly concealed animal fear behind the bravado and demonstrative behavior.
"In other words, we've found another Jedi the Ubiqtorate couldn't get to," I concluded.
"That's correct, sir," Grodin agreed. "There's an interesting detail."
"I'm listening."
"This woman had meetings — two of them — with Galen Marek."
As if I didn't know.
"Source of intelligence?"
"Her initial interrogation, conducted by me in the Force-suppression zone, as well as data from the Ubiqtorate's investigation into incidents related to the actions of that sentient."
"Good," I nodded. "Arrange a meeting for us in a few hours — after we jump into hyperspace for headquarters. Right now, I'm more interested in what our scouts managed to find in the wreckage of the enemy star destroyers and frigates."
"Not a lot, sir," Grodin replied. "We obtained samples from a dozen cloaking field projectors and can definitively say they use stygium, as expected."
"Are we familiar with the cloaking technology?"
"Yes, sir," the man nodded. "As well as the source of the stygium."
"Maramere," I said confidently, as a statement of fact.
I was sure of it, after all.
"Yes, sir. The stygium was sourced from there," which was logical, since we knew that some meres, led by the convicted and executed Sol Sixxa and his group, had worked for the Zann Consortium in the past and supplied them with stygium from Ghost Island.
"The cloaking technology belongs to the Neimoidians," Grodin continued. "Its source, just like in our case, is the luxury liner Sirena, which belonged, two years before the start of the Clone Wars, to the Neimoidian Lord Tout, who controlled the Karthakk system. Sixxa killed Tout and shot down his ship. Then he retrieved part of the cloaking device and installed it on his personal vessel."
It was against him, initially, that Captain Nym and Sol Sixxa had fought before they became what my subordinates saw in their performance.
"From Sixxa's interrogations, we know that he obtained the prototype cloaking device two years before the Battle of Geonosis, which started the Clone Wars," Grodin continued, opening an archive file. "Then, after the Battle of Yavin, he began working with the Zann Consortium, supplying them with stygium. Some time ago, he was contacted again, but this time by the Black Sun, and they demanded not only stygium but also data on his cloaking technology. Which he did — in exchange for support in destroying other groups in the system, and later — us."
"We know the ending — he supplied them with a huge amount of stygium, which over the last few weeks we've turned to dust," I said, looking at the hologram of the Galaanus system flickering on the other side of the table. Four large ships and an ocean of debris. "After which we put an end to his operation."
"One way or another, it seems he passed the cloaking device data to the enemy," Grodin said. "Whether we destroyed all the ships the enemy had equipped with this technology remains an open question."
"Note that as another line of investigation for our scouts still in the Corporate Sector — or who will soon be sent there," I said. "What's far more interesting is this. The Zann Consortium previously had cloaking technology. But they didn't reproduce it; instead, they searched for another operating on the same principles. I want to know why. Send a request to the archive we inherited from the Ubiqtorate. If they studied the wrecks of the previous version of the Zann Consortium's ships, I want a copy of those records."
Pragmatic sentients — and only such become long-term leaders of criminal organizations — don't like wasting time and money chasing "upgrades."
If one type of expensive equipment was replaced by another, there must be a reason for it.
Even with stygium supplies from the planet Maramere, manufacturing projectors is not cheap.
So there must have been a reason why the Zann Consortium abandoned the old cloaking technology in favor of another, which wasn't even put into mass production — the Sirena carried a prototype.
It took us some time to get it working and create a production line.
And even then, the size and operating principles of the projectors prevented them from hiding small ships.
The technology for creating TIE Phantoms came to us "by inheritance" from the Santhe Corporation, but cloaking fields were not included in the blueprints — those were developed by Imperial engineers.
Therefore we're forced to make do with upgraded ARC-170s as scouts instead of creating TIE Phantoms — we still haven't managed to miniaturize the projector units for the cloaking field, salvaged from the "Siren" that crashed and lay on the ocean floor of Maramere, and used for the "Guardian" and the "Punishing Sword."
"I've already sent a request to the archives at Dominion Intelligence headquarters, sir," Grodin explained. "The results will be forwarded to you immediately upon receipt."
"Have the data from Tiraggi's second moon come in?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Pryl from the Thunder is handling the verification. Scout droids confirmed that Imperial-pattern landing craft touched down on the planet. There's evidence of enemy technicians and soldiers occupying simulated positions for several standard hours."
"Make sure Captain Pryl destroys every scout droid that descended into the atmosphere of Tiraggi's second moon," I warned. "Also, have warning beacons and Defense Force patrol craft deployed. The minefield restoration around the moon must proceed in strict accordance with the plan. I want additional forces transferred to her, including Defense Force ships from Mieru'kar, to reconstruct — based on tracking station and listening post readings — the course of Moff Harsh's fleet toward Tiraggi's second moon."
"It will be done, sir."
"Any further news on Captain Astorias's mine-laying operations?" I inquired.
"The Stormhawk, the Black Pearl, and the Colicoid Swarm have completed minefield emplacement outside the sector in the Shaltin Tunnels. Captain Irvin is laying barriers in Sector Bosph at the site where the first task force was destroyed" that is, where the secret route from Sector Bosph to the Chiloon Rift begins. "Captain Tyberos reported to Captain Astorias on the minefields laid on the border between Sectors Sertar and the Thanium Worlds" meaning the initial third of the Shaltin Tunnels also has a remotely controlled minefield.
Sectors Vil and Sertar, through which the hyperspace route "Shaltin Tunnels" passes.
"The Stormhawk is busy placing minefields along the Hydian Way near the borders of the Corporate Sector and Sector Aparo. The Red Star is operating within Sector Happich, laying barriers on the borders with Sectors Quimar and Aparo," the major continued his report.
Corporate Sector
(Sector Aparo, like Sector Happich, lies southwest along the Hydian Way and smoothly transitions into other sectors.)
"The Krueger is conducting mining operations on the borders of Sector Calamit."
So the western neighbor of Sector D'Astan is also ready.
"The Void Wanderer is performing similar work in Sector Nembas, while Captain Stormaer is handling mine-laying in Sector Quimar."
Sector Calamit (between D'Astan and the Gordian Reach)
Sectors Nembas and Quimar are located to the north, along the Hydian Way.
"In other words, the primary objective of mining the routes leading into the sectors from which attacks on the Dominion were launched — and of establishing their connection to the Corporate Sector — has been accomplished," I summarized.
"Exactly so, Grand Admiral," said Grodin.
"Well," I folded my hands into a steeple, "preparations for the next phase have begun, Major."
"Yes, sir," the major nodded. "The Corporate Sector is securely blockaded, and its satellites are separated from one another."
"Not all," I reminded him. "Inform me as soon as the hyperspace routes along the Listerhol Path from Sector Quimar to Chorlian are mined. And draw up orders for the fleet special forces groups — we'll soon need to disable the relays in those sectors."
Only when all these sectors are reliably isolated from each other by remotely controlled minefields can we say we've cut off the Zann Consortium from their puppets.
And the satellites from each other.
"Sir, Vice Admiral Pellaeon asked me to remind you that completing the first phase will require several weeks — the factories can't produce mines in the quantities you're demanding," Grodin said.
"Also, he asked that we not destroy the starships that simulated runs to Tiraggi's second moon," I recalled.
"Exactly so, sir."
"Unfortunately, I cannot fulfill his wishes," the admission came out matter-of-fact. "But there's no need to worry. In the near future we'll have several new factories from the Confederacy of Independent Systems."
"Has Captain Irvin abandoned his intention to find them without our knowledge?" Tierce inquired.
"He never will," I declared. "He fancies himself the last Separatist warlord with a claim to the CIS legacy. And he believes he alone has the right to dispose of the war's losers' property."
"Prize rights to those factories and assets passed to the Empire, sir," Tierce reminded me. "The Dominion cannot assert legal claims to obtain them."
"It cannot," I agreed. "Not until the Empire's combat effectiveness is definitively resolved. But we live in a time when jurisdiction matters less than the number of combat-ready Star Destroyers. Our fleet will soon be reinforced. Have you prepared the plan for Operation Double Signal?"
"Yes, sir," Tierce confirmed. "It's in the fifteenth item of the briefs on the deck."
"Thank you, Major," I said, glancing at the chronometer. "You're dismissed. In three hours, make sure our new guest is brought to my quarters for a conversation."
"It will be done, sir," Tierce echoed.
The major left my quarters in silence.
Deactivating the unnecessary holograms, I activated an audio recording of a Naboo aria, accompanying it with holographic displays of Alderaanian art objects.
An interesting hybrid.
Just like the one who lives by the same principles.
Well, let's begin reviewing the reports.
* * *
"Maris, we're among the last Jedi. As long as we live, the Order lives. I can't let the Empire capture or kill you."
The words echoed faintly off the walls of the quarters, whose boundaries were shrouded in darkness as if they didn't exist at all.
Only a pair of snow-white sofas, a coffee table between them, and the maddening aroma of caf.
The native of Iridonia, homeworld of the Zabrak race, gazed with undisguised awe into crimson eyes like two fiery demon maws about to lunge at her.
Then she would pay for everything she had done in the past, time and again approaching the invisible barrier separating a Jedi Knight from crossing over to the Dark Side of the Force.
Which she had, after all, crossed.
Not that she regretted it, but still…
For some reason, right now, sitting in this dim compartment — the personal quarters of Grand Admiral Thrawn — she felt helpless.
The atmosphere of the Force's absence, which had surrounded her the moment she entered the cabin assigned to her aboard the Star Destroyer, now seemed like she had dashed out in her flimsy clothes into the frost somewhere on the planet Ilum, where Jedi mined crystals for their lightsabers.
Maris had never been there, but her teacher, the very first mentor who had found her and begun her training, had told her about that secret world with such detail that the girl sometimes broke out in a cold sweat.
"Is that an exact quote?" Grand Admiral Thrawn asked in a tone so unruffled it was as if they were discussing a cup of caf, not the lives of sentient beings.
"Y-yes," she stammered.
"Well," the Grand Admiral said calmly, taking a sip from his caf cup with an imperturbable expression. "Your mistress was right. Had you fallen into the Empire's hands, the best you could expect would have been becoming an Inquisitor. But the most likely assumption is that you would simply have been killed, accused of some crime against the New Order."
"Not very reassuring," Maris thought.
"And… what awaits me for defecting to the Dominion?" she asked, biting her lip.
She had somehow lost the confidence that she'd be welcomed here with open arms just by bowing and rattling off a few standard lines about her loyalty.
"Roughly the same alternatives," said Thrawn. "It depends on how useful you can be to the Dominion."
Maris briefly recalled the words she had thrown at Thrawn's Hand just before they parted.
Yes, two days ago she had simply been escorted to her cabin, after which medical checks, interrogations, more checks had begun…
The Zabrak female smoothed her hair with her hand, making eyes and positioning her body to its best advantage for the man.
"I can be very useful to you personally, Grand Admiral Thrawn," she said, putting maximum effort into making her voice sound sultry, provocative, tempting…
"Thank you for the offer," Thrawn didn't even bat an eye at her behavior. "But I decline."
"Oh, come on," every man's weakness is women. And who cares what that red-haired bitch thinks of herself? If there's a chance to get settled better with a new boss, why not? "I can be extremely grateful for my rescue and be useful to you in moments of serious stress."
"I am not in the habit of repeating myself, Lady Brood," Thrawn spoke in such a monotonous yet simultaneously deep tone that the Zabrak female involuntarily felt herself breathing heavily. This wasn't just a voice; it was the timbre of a being accustomed to controlling, commanding, giving orders. "And I will make no exceptions for you. Your next address to me with similar insinuations will end with a noose around your neck and being hanged from the Chimaera's antenna at cruising speed."
The smile on Maris's face withered as quickly as it had appeared.
She felt herself, against her will, cringing in shame, burning holes in her own exposed skin with her gaze.
"Forgive me," well, a direct refusal doesn't mean a thing yet. Men love to 'melt' when a woman before them feels great shame. "I… didn't mean to offend you. I understand you have a Hand for everything, and she's your long-time partner, obviously, but…"
"Those tactics won't work on me, Lady Brood," said Thrawn. "Nor will your feminine charms. I've noted your attempts at seduction, but I'll abstain from what's offered. I have no desire to wallow in filth."
Maris felt as if she had been thrown from a high mountain straight into an icy mountain lake.
No one had ever shot her down like that.
"According to your interrogation, you were accepted into the Jedi Order for training as an infant," Thrawn continued as if nothing had happened.
"Yes," the Zabrak female said in a hollow voice, staring straight ahead.
What had just happened hadn't just knocked the ground from under her feet; it had shattered her ego to smithereens.
"The Jedi liked to take very young children up to three years old to hammer their dogmas into their heads," she continued. "My first teacher adhered to the same rule."
"You speak of Master Shaak Ti?" Thrawn asked.
"No," Maris shook her head. "My first master was a man who took me for training and trained me aboard his ship, the Grey Pilgrim. When the Great Jedi Purge began, we felt a ripple in the Force. He ordered me to await his return, then took a fighter and flew off. I never saw him again. He only contacted me once, said the Jedi had been destroyed by the Sith. One of them — Darth Vader — had once been a Jedi who betrayed us, became a Sith Lord, and was hunting the survivors. I waited for news for a while, but my teacher didn't return. Supplies on the ship were running low, so I decided to act. To find and kill Vader for everything he'd done against the Order. But I couldn't — I ran into Shaak Ti, who redirected my focus from revenge to survival."
"You both fled to Felucia," Thrawn continued.
"Yes," Maris felt a dryness in her mouth. "Master Ti trained me there, befriending the local inhabitants — native tribes who also had a connection to the Force. We hid from the Sith for years — Ti told me that Darth Sidious was behind the purge, and Vader was merely his puppet, his enforcer. I learned a lot from her about Jedi arts that my former master hadn't revealed. But at some point I just realized she was morally broken. I was grateful for her mentorship, but internally I was preparing for war with the Sith. Ti noticed my inclination toward the Dark Side but couldn't do anything about it. Nothing helped, and then I understood that the Jedi weren't as strong as I'd been told. Even the local shamans started looking at me like I was some kind of tainted… The apprenticeship continued, but I felt it was one-sided, uncomfortable, not realizing my full potential. When Starkiller arrived — whom Ti and I initially mistook for Darth Vader — I crawled at her feet, begged her to let me fight him. The Master refused, ordered me to hide. I obeyed, and all I saw was her, a Jedi Master, being dragged face-down across all of Felucia by some brat. And then she just died, without finishing my training."
"How was Master Ti killed?"
"'Arrogance blinds,' she used to tell me," Maris was growing irritated but didn't feel the surge of power she usually felt in such situations. It turned out that even her anger couldn't overcome what made the Zabrak female impervious to the Force. "Instead of fighting to the end, Shaak Ti merged with the Force, falling into the mouth of a sarlacc. But at the time, I thought she had just jumped in to escape him and wait it out — everyone knows sarlaccs digest their prey for thousands of years. That would have been a pretty cool move from such a seasoned Jedi as her. But when I killed the sarlacc after Darth Vader's acolyte left Felucia, I found corpses of hundreds who had died recently in that creature's stomach. And not one that looked anything like Shaak Ti. Only her rags, which she passed off as her own clothing."
"So Master Ti did die after all?"
"When I joined the Zann Consortium, they explained that the flash Shaak Ti used after her leap into the sarlacc's mouth wasn't a diversionary tactic. That's how Jedi merge with the Force. Something like an express transition into the Force."
"Is that so," interest appeared in Thrawn's voice for the first time. "What happened next?"
"I subdued the locals and their war beasts," Brood continued. "I thought that was the key to victory… but I miscalculated. When that same acolyte returned to Felucia a second time, the planet — that evil incarnate — corrupted me, and I finally fell to the Dark Side. I captured the senator from Alderaan who had come to the planet searching for Shaak Ti. I lured the acolyte with the hostage and thought the Dark Side of the Force would give me the power to get rid of him."
"But you didn't succeed."
Thrawn wasn't asking.
Thrawn was stating.
"Yes," said Brood. "Despite all my abilities, all my power — he overcame me just as he had Ti before. I only managed to escape by tricking him, telling that simpleton I would renounce the Dark Side if he spared my life. He fell for that manipulation, and I fled into the forests of Felucia. I wandered for a long time, and then Tyber Zann and Admiral Sykes found me during their conquest of Felucia. I couldn't leave the planet and had practically gone feral, surrounded by natives who, through the Force, drove me insane with mental messages, images showing that my fall to the Dark Side had led to hundreds of their kin dying at Starkiller's hands. That was the name of the adept, the acolyte sent by Darth Vader to destroy Shaak Ti."
"Do you know why he came to Felucia a second time?" the Grand Admiral inquired.
"To rescue Senator Organa, whom I was holding prisoner," Maris admitted reluctantly.
"And what did you need him for, the Viceroy of Alderaan?" Thrawn asked, his eyes boring right through her.
"I… I wanted to lure Starkiller out with him…"
"Indeed?" the Grand Admiral's voice indicated his words had exactly as much credence as a nexu's promise to become a vegetarian. "So you knew that Starkiller and Bail Organa were cooperating after Darth Vader tried to kill Starkiller? Knew that those two had formed the Rebel Alliance with several others? Knew any of what I've just said?"
The stream of questions sounded like hammer blows driving nails into her coffin lid.
And the Grand Admiral's eyes burned like crematorium furnaces, the very place that coffin was destined for.
"No," Maris squeaked.
Now she was beginning to understand Mara Jade's words — she definitely wouldn't be able to forget her meeting with Thrawn.
"You captured the senator to exchange his life for yours if you ever met Darth Vader," Thrawn said.
The Zabrak female looked up at him in fear.
"How did you…?"
She didn't finish, dropping her head.
"All correct," she agreed quietly. "I was a coward. Again. I realized all my desires to kill Vader were worthless."
"Elaborate."
"A Sith's apprentice is always weaker than the master," said the Zabrak female. "He gains strength to destroy his teacher and take his place. Starkiller is certainly powerful, but he's not even an apprentice. More like a servant — powerful and ruthless. I realized that when I lost my tonfas fighting the sarlacc and barely survived."
"If you barely managed against a large monster mostly buried underground, it dawns on you that a real Sith Lord who's killed hundreds of Jedi is definitely not in your weight class," the Grand Admiral commented.
"I realized that only death awaited me if I ever met Vader," Brood continued. "And when I saw that senator, Organa, who was searching for Shaak Ti, I understood that only a traitor to the Empire would act that way. Searching for Jedi in those days was a state crime. I captured him and was ready to hand him over to Vader to save my own life."
"Interesting," was all Thrawn said. "Continue."
Maris thought she hadn't heard correctly.
"Um… Is that it?" she looked at the Dominion's Grand Admiral in bewilderment.
"If you're expecting a lecture on 'what is good, what is bad,' you've come to the wrong Star Destroyer," Thrawn cut her off. "I want to hear the story of your meeting with Zann and Sykes. And what you did for the Zann Consortium."
"Nothing special," the Zabrak female said quickly. "Minor errands, nothing serious…"
Thrawn took a sip of caf, set the cup on the table, then crossed his legs and said:
"Fear."
Brood shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
Her gaze darted through the surrounding semidarkness, but no matter where she looked, she seemed to see only the imposing figures of guards in blue-black armor, and the gray-skinned, short ugly creature whose single glance had already guaranteed her life would be filled with nightmares.
"I don't know what you mean, Grand Admiral," she mumbled haltingly, feeling her palms start to sweat.
"You understand perfectly, Lady Brood," Thrawn countered. "Fear is what drives you. After your teacher Master Ti's battle with Starkiller, it took hold of you. Fear of death, to be precise. That's what led you to the Dark Side. The dread of ending your existence. It's so deeply rooted in you that you'll cling to any chance to survive. You took hostages to trade their lives for yours. You betrayed those you had sworn loyalty to, to avoid dying. But I am deeply convinced that what persuaded you to work for the Zann Consortium was not fear of death. It was a thirst to feel power. Triumph over those weaker than you. Even a coward is strong when behind him stands a squad of thugs, cutthroats who will stop at nothing. Moreover — you are a cowardly liar who, even a decade later, cannot tell the truth about the fact that it was your own animalistic, all-consuming fear that finally brought you to the Dark Side. The planet Felucia, which you named as the cause of your fall, had nothing to do with it."
"Are you a Jedi or something?!" Maris Brood looked at the blue-skinned sentient in horror, desperately reaching out to the Force.
"I have no need to resort to the Force to understand who I'm dealing with," Thrawn didn't answer her question. "The conclusions were made as soon as you opened your mouth and told the story in the way you wanted, aimed solely at capturing my attention and presenting yourself as an accidental victim of circumstances beyond your control."
Such words never left her inner world unchanged.
She had once heard almost the same tirade.
And what happened later…
"Do you have anything to add to what you've already said?" the Grand Admiral inquired in a tone as if he were compiling a medical history in the reception room of a clinic for the poorest population somewhere in the Outer Rim.
Maris felt a cold lump inside; felt she couldn't say or do anything.
Fear paralyzed her.
The realization that for the first time in months, someone had exposed her, turned her inside out, and shoved her nose into her own black soul, then wiped their hands — the hands that had participated in the dissection — on her.
And now they would toss what was left of her into some deep pit and bury it, so they wouldn't have to deal with such contemptible types again.
"Well," said Thrawn. "What I've heard is quite sufficient to understand who you really are."
The Zabrak female felt goosebumps the size of the rancor she had tried to defeat Starkiller on during their second meeting on Felucia run down her body.
"The Dominion has no use for liars, traitors, and cowards," said Thrawn. "They simply have no place in our armed forces. We have our own version of the Jedi Order, raised by learning from the mistakes of their predecessors. And the door is open to everyone who yearns to learn. And who yearns to serve the Dominion…"
"I thirst!" Mara assured the grand admiral, lunging forward to collapse obsequiously to her knees before the non-human. "The desire to serve the Dominion swells inside me. I burn with shame for what I did in the past! I beg for atonement for my sins! I ask to be taught how to overcome my weaknesses…"
Before her knees touched the floor, two completely unconnected things happened at once.
First, she saw a gray-skinned shorty appear between her and Thrawn as if from beneath the ground, in whose hands clots of darkness took shape, forming the outlines of combat knives.
His hands moved with incomprehensible speed, and instead of a cry of surprise, she felt her breath catch, pain spreading through her body in concentrated circles from her very chest.
Next, Maris felt herself soar into the air, as if she were a feather, weightless.
She looked in surprise at the receding figure of Grand Admiral Thrawn, feeling herself flying backward through the air.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw two massive blue-black figures on either side of her.
And she slammed back-first into the back of the sofa, nearly flipping it over with herself and continuing her flight.
She was saved only by the fact that on Imperial starships they preferred to bolt the soft furniture to the deck.
And the Dominion had chosen to adopt that sensible practice.
"I hadn't finished speaking, Lady Brood," Thrawn said, as if nothing had happened, gesturing to both guards that the situation was stabilized.
The giants dissolved into the dimness of the quarters as silently as they had appeared.
And the Zabrak female felt her biceps ache all at once, as if they'd nearly been crushed in a vice.
Now she understood exactly where the guards had grabbed her.
And her mind precisely told her what had just happened.
The moment she'd lunged forward — and Thrawn was blocked by the gray-skinned freak, spinning blades in both hands so fast that she'd mistaken his weapons for clots of darkness itself.
And an instant later, two guards had already yanked her back…
And they'd somehow been right there, while a moment before they'd been outside her field of vision.
And she hadn't even managed to fall to her knees!
Two mere instants, and in a space where the Force didn't exist, she'd been cut off from Thrawn by those she hadn't even seen near her!?
Does that even happen?!
She'd never seen reaction speed like that in any ordinary sentient — and even the Jedi she'd encountered weren't that quick, except Starkiller.
But even he, in this situation, couldn't have been faster than her while staying outside her field of vision.
"Let's continue," Thrawn said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I've conducted recruitment conversations with many sentients, and you differ drastically from them. For the worse, of course. Among them were those who feared for their lives and committed wild, illogical actions. But you've surpassed them all."
"Thank you," Maris said tightly.
"That is not a compliment," Thrawn stated. "I have no doubt that during your time as an operative of the Zann Consortium, you committed many reprehensible acts — including against the Empire and the peaceful civilian population of the galaxy. You escaped judgment only by a miracle. The Dominion is renowned for always seeking to bring even old crimes to justice. But our counterintelligence won't even have to dig 'deep.' Your mere participation in attacks on the Dominion — twice, at that — is already grounds for execution."
"D-d-don't," the Zabrak female trembled. "P-please! I'll d-do everything possible, ev-everything y-y-y-ou w-w-want!"
"I don't see any desire to cooperate on your part," Thrawn said, spreading his hands. "The moment I mentioned your involvement in the affairs of the Zann Consortium, you immediately decided to deceive me. In the most naive way possible. As if we don't know that you commanded the operational group that blockaded the Bosph sector. As if we don't know that you had your own apprentice, whom you abandoned to us to save yourself. As if we don't know about Zann having other Force adepts besides you. About his plans for the eastern part of the galaxy. About his operations in Imperial and Republic worlds. About the replacement of moffs and warlords with clones."
Maris was literally shaking with fear now.
She knew she wasn't involved in most of what Thrawn was talking about — that was other sentients' doing.
She'd always been small fry, carrying out only routine missions.
Because no one had ever seen her capable of anything more than being a potential bargaining chip.
Except maybe Sykes, who'd tried to make an operational commander out of her — and even then only because of a shortage of field commanders, due to their being busy preparing for the attack on the Dominion.
And now she understood that she was going to become the scapegoat for all the crimes of the Zann Consortium.
Unless she could give them something they didn't know about.
Some information that would save her life!
Something very important!
"Don't kill me!" she wailed, tears in her eyes. "I'll tell you everything! Everything I know about the Zann Consortium's plans! Your redheaded bitch didn't capture Sykes, and he knew a lot! And he shared it with me! I know almost as much as he does!"
"The Hand had no need to capture Admiral Sykes," Thrawn replied. "Her task was to locate the Zann Consortium's rear base, from where attacks on the Dominion are coordinated. She accomplished that. As for the prisoner… I have neither the time, nor the desire, nor the need to extract the Zann Consortium's plans from him. Whatever Tyber's schemes may be, they will change the moment he realizes his fleet has been destroyed."
"But I know where their bases are and—"
Thrawn showed her a data chip.
"This is a complete copy of the data from the central computer of the Merciless," Thrawn explained. "Everything the Hand was supposed to do — she did. And more."
Maris's eyes went wide.
Everything she could say, tell, trade for her life — undoubtedly it was all on that data chip.
Except for one thing.
Something Sykes would never have recorded.
"That doesn't have the main thing," she said quickly.
"And it just so happens that you know what that is?" Thrawn's voice held a note of mockery.
"Yes," she replied. "Because anyone who even speaks of it, or makes a recording — gets killed using the Force. They get crushed in an instant, as if they were a piece of flimsi, not a living person."
For the first time, she saw interest on Thrawn's face.
As if precisely describing these favored executions had drawn his attention to her words.
"Continue," he ordered.
"Zann doesn't act alone," Maris said quickly, understanding that the faster she interested the grand admiral, the sooner she'd gain weight in his eyes. "He has a chief advisor. One who never shows himself. No one has seen him except Zann himself. I'll tell you everything I know about this lover of holograms and turning sentients inside out, if you promise not to do anything bad to me and let me study with your Jedi."
"A demand disproportionate to the information provided," Thrawn shook his head. "I know enough about Zann's advisors."
"But not about this one," she stated. "I saw him only once — and even then only because I possess the Force. He got into my thoughts, turned my mind inside out, and then discarded me like a used thing. He's… a powerful and terrible sentient. He… said I was cheap goods not worth his time. 'A stone not worth cutting.' That's what he said about me… He's strong. Insane. A virtuoso with the Dark Side of the Force. But despite his madness, he's the one who helped Zann rebuild the Zann Consortium when it was nearly destroyed to its foundations. He saved Zann's life and has been helping him subjugate the galaxy ever since, remaining in the shadows, while appearing only to give advice — I saw them talking a couple of times — or to evaluate new candidates for Zann's personal operatives, whom he presented to his trusted associates, mostly former Imperials. Sykes said that this very advisor helped the Zann Consortium recreate brainwashing technology and perfect it…"
"Name."
Now Thrawn's voice indicated direct interest.
A glimmer of hope arose inside Maris.
"Promise that—"
"Say the name, before you're handed over to my Dark Guard, who'll turn you inside out," the threat, delivered in an icy tone, hit Maris like another plunge into a freezing lake.
"Sykes said he calls himself after a dead Imperial warlord," Thrawn's facial features sharpened, as if he already knew the answer and was waiting for her to say it.
Maris decided that hesitation was not in her interest.
"They call him Shadowspawn," she said. "Spawn of shadow."
Thrawn closed his eyes for a moment.
Maris saw the skin on the Grand Admiral of the Dominion's face tighten, pulling taut over his cheekbones.
And through his gloves, she could see the knuckles of his clenched fists standing out.
It lasted only a few seconds and apparently signified the highest degree of emotional display for this non-human.
Something comparable to ordinary sentients screaming with rage and smashing furniture in a fit of anger, upon realizing something that suddenly clarifies everything, yet confuses them even more.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Lady Brood," Thrawn said in the same matter-of-fact tone, looking exactly as he had a minute before. As if those seconds of seething emotion had never happened. "You've earned your chance to build a life in the Dominion. I advise you to use it wisely. Nothing that saved you in the past — lies, betrayal, ingratiation — will work anymore. I have a sentient in mind who will make the best version of yourself out of you."
"Um…" Maris felt she should trust Thrawn's words and take them as guidance. "As you say…"