The A6 Juggernaut all-wheel drive heavy assault armored vehicle was the largest representative of the Juggernaut family of armored vehicles and one of the most massive combat machines ever to serve in the Grand Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars.
And, of course, in the armed forces of the Galactic Empire.
The only vehicle that surpassed this wheeled "double-headed" giant in size was the SPHA heavy self-propelled artillery platform, which had performed well during the Clone Wars.
And the Empire had also found use for those SPHAs...
But right now, Jahan was at the helm of not an SPHA, but a "rolling brick," as the Juggernaut had been nicknamed back in its days in the Grand Army of the Republic.
A6 Juggernaut heavy assault armored vehicle.
(taken from Ansel Hsiao — https://fractalsponge.net/wp/?p=134)
Or did that nickname apply exclusively to the previous modification, the A5?
Well, what difference did it make?
In practice, both vehicles had become quite rare in the armed forces of the Imperial Remnants.
Because they had once been supplanted from military arsenals by the Emperor's beloved AT-ATs.
"What about the weapons?" Jahan shouted to his partner, trying to ignore the stream of blaster fire splashing across one of the two armored vehicle's cabs.
The Alignment's rear units, as well as those who had somehow not yet ended up under the collapsing roof of the Jedi Temple behind the fleeing agents, clearly did not approve of the fact that the ten-wheeled giant, reaching the height of a small house, was crushing infantry and armored vehicles concentrated around the perimeter of the Jedi sanctuary without any ceremony.
Considering that, thanks to either the explosion or the master of the Jensaarai, the crew of this vehicle had died, riddled with debris through the broken transparisteel of the forward cab, Agent Cross was not very keen on breathing Coruscant air with an admixture of tibanna.
Only the presence of his helmet kept his eyes from watering from the stream of air hitting his face.
"Launch systems are active!" Afar reported.
A second later, he cursed.
"What else?"
"We have grenades, not rockets!"
"Banta poodoo!" Jahan agreed, calculating that it was exactly three kilometers to the lifesaving overpass near which the headquarters of the Temple-sieging forces was based.
The flight distance of a rocket.
If only they had them!
But it seemed the crew of this armored vehicle had decided grenades would be more interesting.
Even though their range for confident destruction was less than half a kilometer.
"What about the cannons?" Jahan asked, flinching when a precise sniper shot flew through the broken viewport and embedded itself in the body of an already dead member of the A6's previous crew.
This model of Juggernaut was equipped with several laser cannons—both on the bow and the stern.
Not to mention the sides.
But only one of them—located above the cab where Jahan was now sitting—had a firing range of three kilometers.
The rest had a range of one to one and a half kilometers.
Which was somewhat insufficient, considering the enemy had not only tanks but also, judging by the explosions nearby and on the vehicle's armor, mortars.
Not to mention that the planetary garrison had significant forces of AT-ATs, encountering which would bode nothing good for the armored wheeled giant.
Nothing at all.
"The forward turret is fine," Afar responded.
But before that, he fired a precise shot from it at a concentration of enemy vehicles.
The deployment site of repulsor tanks, which were just warming up their systems to enter the fight, was lit up by a flash from the Zygerrian's accurate hit.
Several tanks were torn apart, others were overturned by the shockwave, and still others got off with only a light shrapnel rain of parts from the damaged vehicles.
One way or another, to survive, they would have to step hard on the accelerator.
And regret that the agents hadn't gotten an A5 with its fantastic speed of two hundred kilometers per hour.
The A6 could boast a cruising speed of only half that.
A powerful explosion occurred, causing the armored vehicle to start veering to the right, against the driver's will, and tilt significantly, while simultaneously sagging cyclically on the uneven surface.
There could be only one reason for this.
"Third wheel on the left is blown!" the Zygerrian announced.
"Compensating!" Jahan declared.
The Juggernaut—both the fifth and sixth models—was driven by five pairs of wheels.
The wheels themselves were the main difference between the A6 and A5 generations of armored vehicles.
On the A5, they were solid with a hard covering, had a sufficiently large width and diameter to provide the vehicle with acceptable cross-country capability with low ground pressure.
However, on the A6, due to the noticeably increased dimensions of the armored vehicle, solid wheels were no longer suitable — even a small bump gave the entire structure a noticeable tilt and could ultimately cause the whole giant to tip over on its side in an emergency.
Like the one that had just happened.
So Republic engineers created a new wheel for the new vehicle, consisting of three independently rotating segments, where each segment could have its own rotational speed and its own height relative to the neighboring segments.
That is, if the wheel rolled over an obstacle about a meter high (a tree trunk, a rock, or an unlucky spider droid), one of the segments would rise, conforming to the obstacle's dimensions, while the other two stayed at the original level.
The crew and passengers might not even feel the obstacle, since they wouldn't notice any significant tilt.
But if one of the segments was damaged, the situation was completely different.
The even distribution of load across all five pairs of wheels played a nasty trick when damage occurred — the pressure on the remaining axles increased, the center of gravity shifted, and tipping over suddenly became a routine matter.
Incidentally, the fate of obstacles the Juggernaut had the honor of running over was unenviable.
The armored vehicle's mass and sturdy wheels allowed it to reduce virtually every droid of the Confederacy of Independent Systems that got in its way to a state of "crushed scrap metal."
During the Clone Wars, Juggernaut crews apparently made eager use of this additional "weapon."
And Jahan was doing the same thing now, crushing fortifications and living forces of the Pentastar Alignment.
In the end, thanks to the new wheels, the creators of the A6 managed to give their giant high cross-country capability, even exceeding that of the "five" and far surpassing the mobility of heavy combat walkers like the AT-TE, AT-AP, and AT-HE — whose high ground pressure, due to their relatively small "feet," prevented them from moving over soft terrain without the risk of sinking in up to their roofs.
And one last advantage of wheeled traction: the ability to pass through defensive shields without obstruction.
Walking vehicles of the Grand Army of the Republic had the same capability, and consequently so did the Galactic Empire and its unofficial successors, the Imperial Remnants.
Such a property — penetrating shields — was unavailable to any repulsorlift vehicle.
And repulsorlift tech was finicky to maintain.
Not to mention the size of the reactor needed to power a vehicle like the Juggernaut.
The Juggernaut's compensation system could seal a breach with a special sealing compound and keep moving while compressors restored pressure in the damaged segment of any damaged wheel.
"Distance — one and a half kilometers!" Afar's cry came through the open blast door.
He wasn't actually behind Jahan, in the weapons operator bay, but on the upper deck of the troop compartment, where he could control the turret mounted on the armored vehicle's roof.
But now, with the distance closing, he realized it would be best to move somewhere he could fire more laser cannons.
If they were lucky and didn't get shot to pieces first, they'd also use grenades from the launchers.
On all three decks of the enormous armored vehicle, the compartments were separated by fairly thick armor to prevent the spread of blast waves or shrapnel inside the Juggernaut if one of them was damaged.
"Activate the remaining guns!" Jahan ordered.
"Already on it! All the ones I can!"
The armor and survivability of the A6 model Juggernaut, which entered service during the Clone Wars, was truly impressive.
The guns of most CIS tanks only rarely penetrated its armor, and even then caused minor damage.
In particular, A6 crews had virtually no fear of the Separatists' most mass-produced tanks, like the AAT assault tank or the NR-N99 droid tank.
Even the IG-227 self-propelled vehicle, armed with anti-tank guided missiles, could seriously harm only the Juggernaut's wheels, and only a volley launch had a chance of putting the A6 out of action.
Let alone grenadier droids and various smaller-caliber vehicles, which could be completely ignored.
Under these circumstances, Jahan could only wonder what exactly had managed to hit them from the Alignment forces.
Yes, just as every beast has its hunter, so too had the Juggernaut met its match.
The A6's truly dangerous enemies were CIS bombers and fighters armed with bombs, missiles (or proton torpedoes).
The only way to defend against this threat was with the two laser cannons on the roof and the rear of the vehicle — only those guns had a sufficiently high angle of elevation.
However, these cannons weren't suited for anti-aircraft fire and were hardly a serious threat to the nimble CIS droid fighters and droid bombers.
An equally significant threat to the Juggernaut was fire from large ships (frigates and cruisers) from low orbit or the stratosphere — effectively camouflaging such a large machine was nearly impossible.
And dodging a shot, even with that kind of mobility and speed, was also something out of science fiction.
Of course, vulnerability to air attacks was characteristic of the entire Juggernaut family.
And not just them, but all large combat vehicles.
The only way to counter this threat was to constantly escort Juggernauts on the battlefield with self-propelled anti-aircraft platforms.
The Juggernaut's main armament consisted of two laser cannons. One was on the roof, and the second was above the rear control station.
They'd had to work hard capturing the vehicle — throwing out the stunned crew and blocking the rear controls by simply routing everything to the forward cockpit.
Yes, during the Galactic Empire's service, these vehicles had undergone upgrades that removed the second driver-mechanic from the crew list, who during the Clone Wars had been in the rear control compartment to help handle the vehicle.
The navigator was also removed, without whom the original version of the A6 was virtually incapable of moving at high speed.
They were replaced by control blocks and automation.
But the fact remained: this vehicle had a second control station, and if any wounded or stunned enemy soldiers were still onboard somewhere, they could seize control simply by disabling the control blocks.
Neither agent wanted that outcome.
Not under any circumstances.
The laser cannons' power exceeded most CIS armored vehicle guns by twenty percent, matching them in effective firing range.
For dealing with infantry and light vehicles, the Juggernaut carried two twin-barreled rapid-fire blaster cannons mounted on turrets under the forward cockpit, and two anti-personnel laser cannons on the sides.
This arrangement allowed it to generate a formidable barrage of fire to the front, capable of pinning down even a very large enemy infantry unit.
However, the gun placement created a large "dead zone" to the rear.
The armored vehicle's other weapons were two retractable universal launchers, whose blocks were located on the sides of the vehicle at the level of the second wheel.
The launchers could fire guided missiles, effective against armor and buildings, or grenades, useful for suppressing fire points, destroying infantry squads, and covering disembarking troops.
The launchers weren't traversable, but their design allowed launching rockets or grenades both forward and backward.
Currently, nothing threatened the vehicle from the rear, but there were plenty of problems up front.
Like the "reanimated" AT-AT, which was firing at the Juggernaut, punching through its armor in the rear section time and again.
They had nothing to answer that behemoth with.
Its guns wouldn't penetrate — the AT-AT's blaster-resistant armor wouldn't even notice them.
Guided missiles might do something to the legs, but what they really needed was large-caliber proton artillery.
Which the agents didn't have.
"Upper turret destroyed!" Afar reported, worry in his voice. "Along with a chunk of the roof!"
"I know!" The armored vehicle's schematic was glowing red, signaling numerous damages.
At least the running gear and engine compartment were still safe.
Otherwise, if they stopped, they'd turn into a stationary target.
"What, are they shelling us from orbit?"
"No, poodoo, from the AT-AT!" Jahan barked back.
He swerved, but it barely helped — the walker's energy weapon kept punching holes in the hull.
Judging by how the walker's gunners were steadily zeroing in on the forward cockpit, the situation was shifting from thrilling and adventurous for the two agents.
Transitioning into "catastrophic."
"Five hundred meters!" Avar reported. "We've lost almost all the guns!"
Jahan only had time to swerve to avoid a direct hit to the cockpit.
At the same time, he leaned his body away, bracing for the possible consequences of the barrage.
The vehicle felt like it had hit an invisible wall, losing momentum and speed as the driver left his seat.
Now the armored vehicle was just rolling forward by inertia, thanks to the still-intact transmission.
Ignoring the ringing in his ears, Jahan suddenly realized he was staring at the starry sky of Coruscant.
Which was where the armored ceiling and some equipment should have been.
Only a crack in his helmet's visor kept him from fully enjoying the beauty that eternally lured adventurers into space.
A pillar of energy, passing meters above him, explained the situation more eloquently than words.
Jahan jerked back into his seat, silently thanking the creators of this armored vehicle from Rothana Heavy Engineering for their quality military "product."
The AT-AT apparently thought it had killed the driver and that the Juggernaut was no longer a threat.
"Think again!" Cross roared, stomping the accelerator pedal to the floor.
The armored vehicle's engine roared like a hungry rancor.
Instantly accelerating, the machine surged forward toward the Alignment forces' temporary headquarters.
"Cross!" Sagaal Shan's cry reached him. "What's happening?"
"We've got a convertible now!" the special agent snarled, tearing the damaged helmet from his head. "Four hundred meters!"
Within grenade range.
The AT-AT "reanimated," its "head" tracking the undead wheeled target.
And the enemy infantry suddenly came to life.
Crimson beams from blasters and heavy repeaters filled the air.
With the cockpit armor gone, any one of them could hit Jahan at any moment.
But the agent no longer cared.
"Grenades!" he yelled.
Afar didn't ask unnecessary questions.
He activated the launch of all munitions remaining in the battered vehicle's launchers.
Several dozen grenades, leaving barely visible smoke trails, shot out from both sides of the vehicle.
A wall of fire formed in front of the Juggernaut, at the center of which stood the Pentastar Alignment walker, towering implacably over the crippled armored vehicle.
"Empty!"
Afar's voice reached the agent's ear, and the Zeigerrian dropped into the adjacent seat, which had been mangled by a stray hit.
"Don't tell me that—"
"I won't!"
Afar instantly assessed the armored vehicle's direction of travel.
"But there's no overpass there!"
"Then we'll make one!" Jahan roared, adrenaline-fueled. "Hold onto something!"
The Juggernaut burst into the fiery inferno of blazes and explosions at the enemy's temporary base.
The cool Coruscant night instantly turned into a scorching steam bath, and Jahan felt sweat start pouring down his face.
The walker's pilot also realized he couldn't harm the wheeled monster at close range.
And realized too late what the furious Jahan Cross, driving the Juggernaut, intended to do.
He started backing up, trying to protect his vehicle and shoot the insolent man threatening a collision.
Doing exactly what Jahan had counted on.
The "rolling block" slammed into the AT-AT's support "legs" at monstrous speed.
The crash of the collision and crumpling metal flooded Jahan's ears as he was thrown forward from the driver's seat.
The restraint harnesses snapped him back with the sound of their super-strong material tearing.
With the groan of a dying sea creature, the AT-AT couldn't resist the laws of physics and crashed onto its side, tumbling off the edge of the plaza where the Jedi Temple had once stood.
And the rear base of the units besieging it.
But now only ruins remained there, which a few assault transports hovering in the air could observe.
Without taking his foot off the accelerator, Jahan sent the Juggernaut following the rammed AT-AT.
The armored vehicle, carrying some speed and inertia, flew a good several hundred meters in a straight line before its nose started tipping downward.
Gravity had nothing against the two Dominion agents, but it still proved merciless to sentients trying to make wheeled armored vehicles fly.
"Back!"
Together with Afar, Jahan dove into the open weapons operator bay, catching his shoulder and hip on the hatch frame.
Before the multi-ton vehicle crashed into a built-up block, carving its path by its own weight multiplied by the inertia from the high-speed run, they both managed to grab the first thing at hand.
Jahan was thrown to the far end of the bay, slamming his already injured shoulder against another bulkhead, and he screamed as pain shot through his entire body.
Beside him, Sagaal Shan joined his solo performance of the pain aria for car-crash victims.
Their duet drowned out the roar of breaking structures, pierced durabetton reinforced with duracrete, the Juggernaut's crumpling metal, and the armored capsule of the weapons operator bay yielding under the density of the building being smashed through.
"To the rear!" Cross shouted, seeing the armor bulkhead that had once separated the command bay from the weapons operator bay start to buckle.
Afar, cursing in Huttese — which sounded almost like a literary improvisation of modern art — followed him.
They had to make their way along the vehicle's right side, which had finally flopped onto its side and nearly stopped.
There was only one viable way out now: through the upper hatches in the cargo-passenger compartment's roof.
Though it was inconvenient due to the hatches' size and the need to then slowly climb down from the vehicle's roof.
After all, no one in their right mind (except Jedi) would jump from a fifteen-meter height, and slowly crawling over the armor under enemy fire was its own kind of pleasure.
But they didn't have to experiment.
The upper hatches were deformed.
Opening them without hydraulic tools or Jedi help was impossible.
And there was neither in sight.
But they had to run.
The faster, the better.
The Alignment soldiers clearly understood that the Temple's collapse and the Juggernaut's high-speed joyride were connected.
"Hatch ramps," Afar suggested, cradling his broken left arm with his healthy right one.
"Well, can this day possibly surprise us anymore?" Cross chuckled mirthlessly.
The troops exited the armored vehicle through two wide doors on the sides, located between the second and third wheels.
The door placement and wheel height obviously didn't allow disembarkation on the move.
But they weren't moving now, either.
The Juggernaut, lying on its side, wouldn't let the troop hatch open fully, so both agents used it as a slide, enthusiastically rolling down.
"Just like being a kid again!" Jahan shared his impression.
"I wouldn't want to be friends with you as a kid," Afar shared his opinion, looking at the residential building destroyed for a hundred meters around, in the center of which they now stood.
The groaning of walls and ceilings suggested they should leave this place as fast as possible — before uninvited guests arrived.
But first...
"Got a thermal detonator?" Cross asked with a madman's smile, looking at his comrade.
The smell of fuel hung in the air.
Fuel that was melodically splashing out of the defeated giant's ruptured tank.
"As always, when you serve in Hutt Space," Afar pulled a small cylinder from his belt. Clearly not standard military issue. "One left for myself."
"And I had a tough childhood?" Jahan asked in surprise, arming the thermal detonator.
"I'll refrain from commenting," Afar winced.
Setting the timer on the explosive, tucked under the Juggernaut's fuel tank, Jahan looked at his comrade:
"Think the turbolifts in the building still work?"
Jahan laughed bitterly.
He had no strength left for cursing.
* * *
Mara stared at the Grand Admiral, clenching her fists and feeling an unexpected surge of emotion.
Not dictated by the Force — in Thrawn's presence, that magnitude was irrelevant.
But the anger she felt when the Grand Admiral effortlessly found her sore spot — that was real.
Where did the anger come from?
How could she not be angry at a man for whom she had abandoned all her plans and rushed to help?
And instead of even the slightest gratitude, he acted as if her initiative annoyed him as much as the snow-white tunic he'd been wearing for so many years.
Though, the tunic — that, Thrawn definitely valued.
"I told you everything I know!" she hissed, her voice echoing strangely in the spacious living room of the Dominion Supreme Commander's apartments. "I sensed a threat and reported it. I came because I thought it was the right thing to do..."
Thrawn looked at her with polite calm, making her want to incinerate him on the spot.
"I don't like being played for a fool," he stated coldly.
"I don't know what you're talking about..."
"Lying."
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes," Thrawn didn't even change his expression.
His tone didn't rise.
He showed no sign of interest in getting what he wanted from her.
"Fine," Mara crossed her legs, staring intently into the Grand Admiral's eyes. "You're strong in mind games. What, in your opinion, am I hiding, and what is my real purpose for coming?"
Thrawn's astromech, once Luke Skywalker's assistant in destroying the first Death Star, returned from the kitchen, signaling that the order was ready.
A black-painted protocol droid followed, setting the table in seconds.
Mara glanced at the exquisite pastries.
Her stomach treacherously growled, reminding her that the food on her ship didn't have these qualities, smells, or even appearance.
Even though it was bought at the best stores!
"Please, help yourself," the Grand Admiral Thrawn said magnanimously.
"Thank you," Mara forced a smile. "I'm on a diet."
"Keeping in shape is commendable," Thrawn assessed, taking a sip of caf. "But in your case, you shouldn't overdo it. The line between a slender physique and disgusting thinness bordering on anorexia is blurred. And if you cross it, it will be unpleasant."
"For me, it's just right," Mara declared. "I love crawling through ventilation shafts and other dusty holes as part of my job. The smaller I am, the wider the range of holes I can fit through."
"Diligence in work is understandable and commendable," Thrawn said. "However, I think it's worth looking at this from another angle."
"Which one?"
"It occurred to me that such a determined nature as yours would obviously strive to improve your performance and work efficiency," the Grand Admiral shared his thoughts. "Even at the expense of your health. But from a long-term efficiency standpoint, that's a bad strategy. The more you undermine your health now to be more effective in the current moment, the sooner you'll need to be replaced."
"Why?" Mara tensed.
"Because you'll be unable to do your job," Thrawn explained. "Exhausting training, lack of replenishment of useful elements and vitamins through meals... Soon your body will start consuming its own fat reserves. After that, muscle breakdown and general dystrophy will begin. It will take you a very long time to recover from that state. And the work won't wait for you to deign to get back in shape. You'll have to find someone else for the position of Hand. Although, Maris Brood, after training, could do it. Her psychological profile indicates that she derives almost physical pleasure from carrying out orders from someone who holds power over her. A peculiar mental disorder, even a useful one — we've determined this from Leonia Tavira's example. She won't ask questions. And she's ready to carry out any order, as long as her master is pleased with the result."
Mara mentally cursed.
All she had to do was thoughtlessly blurt out about a non-existent diet, and she got a lecture about: "Mara, sweetie, don't forget to eat, or you'll be sent to retirement. By the way, there's even a candidate. A horned psychopath with maniacal tendencies who gets pleasure from being ordered around and praised for killing."
Jade even shuddered at the thought of Brood looking at Thrawn with her lying, lovestruck eyes while he ordered her to carry out a sabotage in some corner of the galaxy...
Her hand automatically reached for the candy.
Mara, without taking her eyes off Thrawn's burning gaze, unwrapped the treat and popped a chocolate-covered nut into her mouth.
Whole.
But she didn't consider that her mouth probably wouldn't open wide enough to bite a candy a third the size of her own fist.
No, she could try, of course...
But at the Imperial Court etiquette courses, she was taught that opening your mouth wide in front of a sentient sitting across from you was improper.
Women would start to envy, and men would start assessing and weighing options...
Oh, Force, what kind of nonsense was going through her head?
"Good choice," Thrawn praised. "But I prefer smaller sweets. They're awkward to chew."
"I'm fine," Jade said with her mouth full. "Don't worry about me."
"If it's comfortable for you, then suck on it," the red-eyed one said calmly. "I'll wait."
Complete lack of emotion.
Detachment.
Verbal jabs with double, even triple meanings.
Mara felt something break inside her.
The girl brought her hand to her face and spat out the sticky candy into it.
Almost pulled her lips apart.
At least her jaw didn't lock up.
"A handkerchief?"
She looked up from the slimy nut and saw Thrawn, like a magician, using the index and middle fingers of his right hand to pull a snow-white handkerchief from his left breast pocket.
Which he held out to her.
Jade didn't refuse.
Silently, she snatched the offered gentleman's accessory and began removing the sticky structure of the chocolate that had melted in her mouth and on her hands.
Prudently, she first transferred the source of her problems (through her own stupidity) onto the table.
Covering it from the Grand Admiral's view with her cup of caf.
"Since when do Grand Admirals carry not only code cylinders in their breast pockets, but also handkerchiefs?" she asked.
Thrawn had already made it clear that the conversation between them was more intimate than a simple briefing.
So maybe she should use his "policy" to the fullest and clarify the points that interested her?
"Ever since women in my presence started fainting," Thrawn said.
Mara, wiping the chocolate from her palm, froze.
"What do you mean?" She looked up at Thrawn in surprise.
"Keep rubbing," the Grand Admiral advised. "This brand of chocolate has stubborn colorant properties. If it dries or seeps into your skin, you'll need chemical reagents."
Changing the subject.
Mara raised her open palm to her face and, silently, in a streetwise manner, spat on it while looking Thrawn in the eyes.
Then she started rubbing off the chocolate with the handkerchief, using her own saliva.
"No one would use dye in chocolate if it wasn't dissolved by saliva," she explained. "Customers would hardly like walking around with a brown palate."
"Sounds logical," Thrawn replied. "Thank you. You've resolved my dilemma regarding these candies."
Oh, the Emperor's black bones?!
A dilemma over a candy?
Was he trying to wage war against it?
Cut off its escape with coffee cups, attacked with butter knives, and blocked it in the dish with the force of smaller candies?!
"Do you even eat candies after studying them as objects of art?" Mara sneered.
"In a way," Thrawn replied. "In fact, I was contemplating whether candies made by Givins for Givins could be lethal to humans. The chewy chocolate they use in their candies, when exposed to the acidic environment of the stomach, can provide a Givin with fat processing for a long time. That allows them to fuel their bodies for extended periods."
Mara felt all the blood drain from her face.
Givins are a race living in the south of the galaxy, in the Yag'Dul system, not far from Thyferra.
Givin (yes, the creator of this race probably really liked horror stories).
They look like skeletons externally, because their skeleton is their outer shell.
Besides being specialists in exact sciences—all geniuses by human standards—they have another physiological difference from humans.
They don't breathe.
At all.
Therefore, they are not at risk of choking if a "nut in chocolate" gets stuck in their esophagus.
"Are you mocking me?" Mara clarified.
"Of course not, Hand," the Grand Admiral replied. "I enjoy your company."
"And you slipped me a candy that could have made my stomach explode and put tons of fat all over me?" Jade inquired, her voice like durasteel.
"No one forced you to choose that candy as a priority and most desirable," Thrawn explained. "You decided to do that. And now you don't like the consequences of grabbing it, unwrapping it, and swallowing it with enthusiasm. Good thing you didn't try to gulp it down... So I don't really understand the grievances you're laying on me. When I invited you to have caf with me, I didn't force you to pick that particular candy."
Mara took a deep, noisy breath.
"We're not really talking about the candy, are we?" she clarified, looking away.
"An apt metaphor," the Grand Admiral confirmed. "It fits very logically into the context of what's happening."
"I wonder, if nothing had happened, would you have chosen something else to convey your point to me allegorically?" the girl asked, wiping the last of the chocolate from her lips.
"Interpreting simple phenomena in the right context is a very valuable ability," Thrawn replied vaguely.
"Well, of course," Mara crossed her arms, looking away. "So what now?"
"That depends on you," the Grand Admiral stunned her.
"What does that mean?" the girl clarified, trembling all over. "Do I have to prove something to someone?"
Something happened that she clearly hadn't expected from Thrawn.
"Is there a need to prove something to anyone?" he asked, chuckling. "It seems to me, aside from a few shortcomings, your service has given much to the Dominion. You found the Guardian, the Baneblade, killed ×1, captured Ysanne Isard, recruited the galaxy's best slicer to our side, contributed to the defeat of enemy information activity, recruited a valuable agent from the Zann Consortium..."
"Should I start feeling proud of myself?" Jade inquired.
"At the very least, you should already respect and value yourself," Thrawn said, leaning forward as if demonstrating a desire to get closer to Jade herself or examine her more closely. "Few have done more for the Dominion."
"Except for you," Jade said.
"I'm a variable from a different equation," the Grand Admiral cut off. "We're talking about you, Mara..."
Well, well.
"Then let's talk about US, Grand Admiral!" the girl leaned forward so that her face was just ten centimeters from the Chiss's. "Since it's come to this?"
Thrawn didn't even flinch.
Perfectly understanding that if he leaned back now, it would look like an uncompromising defeat in a battle of stares.
"'Come to this'?" the Grand Admiral clarified. "Could you be more specific in expressing your thoughts?"
Mara's eyes flashed.
"Imagine a situation," she proposed. "I'm flying across the galaxy to buy my own house, sleeping alone in a bed aboard yet another temporary ship that belonged to some shifty scoundrel from the Rebel Alliance, when the Force sounds an alarm and literally screams in my ear that something irreparable is about to happen and that what binds me to a person dear to me will be lost forever. Essentially—it's warning me of the death of someone I care about. I start reflecting, digging into myself, and after long attempts I learn that, it turns out, this person 'dear' to me isn't a human at all, but a Chiss! And on top of that—he's my boss! I try frantically to reach him, to warn him of danger, and my efforts are only rewarded by being willing to listen when I arrive. Am I and my work so unimportant to you, Grand Admiral Thrawn, that you can't tear yourself away from contemplating your magnificent art holograms for my sake?"
"I see," he said, bringing a hand to his face and stroking his chin.
Mara couldn't see his pupils (if Chiss even have them), but she felt that Thrawn wasn't looking at her.
"So either Baroness D'Asta's proposal is far more dishonest than I understood, or you've caught Bel Iblis's trap, organized with the help of Han Solo and his fleet..."
"The Baroness's proposal?" Mara was surprised.
"Yes," Thrawn spoke distantly, as if his thoughts were far away. "She proposed that I marry her..."
With a clatter and crash, the coffee table and the caf pot, cups, and candy dish on it tipped over.
"What the...?!" Mara jumped up, unable to hide the emotions tearing her apart. "What does that little piece of trash think she's doing?! I hope you refused to marry that alcoholic! She's a clone, on top of everything!"
"Careful, Jade," Thrawn said, looking up at her. But somehow the girl felt as if he was gazing at her from an unattainable height. "This is unwise... Caf on the deck!"
"Unwise?!" the girl boiled over. "I'm on the razor's edge every day for you and the Dominion! Even the Iceheart clone has done more for you than that blond little pipsqueak! What does she think she is?! Not a credit to her name, holds onto her father's legacy only through Dominion forces, and she dares to ask to marry you?! She's not even asking! She's thrusting herself on you! Girls in Twi'lek pleasure houses behave more modestly! So, what makes her better than me?!"
"Jade!" For the first time since she had known Thrawn, he raised his voice at her so that it became frightening. "Stop!"
But Mara, as they say, was carried away.
In a fit of rage, she swung her leg to kick the caf pot and vent all her anger on it.
But to her surprise, she realized her supporting leg was slipping.
"Spilled caf!" the girl realized, tucking herself so as not to sprawl all over the floor in front of Thrawn.
And the next moment, she felt herself caught by two strong, firm hands that clearly didn't belong to a Noghri.
And not just caught like a waiter holding a tray in a fancy restaurant.
They grabbed her possessively and pressed her against a firm body in a white uniform.
With shiny, yellow-spectrum star-colored aurodium rank insignia on the shoulders.
"Calmed down?" Grand Admiral Thrawn inquired in a velvety tone, looking at her.
"A little," Mara squeaked, feeling her heart pounding loudly. "Can... can you hold me like this a little longer?"
"You can," the Grand Admiral answered without hesitation.
The next second, Mara felt herself falling.
"But of course, I won't do that," Thrawn explained as she hit the floor, breaking one of the cups with her body.
Or finishing off an already broken one.
Jade sprang to her feet in a split second, looking at the Grand Admiral with defiance.
"Oh, is that how it is?" she shouted in his face. "So some cloned little baroness is better than me? After everything I've done for you and the Dominion? You'd be better off marrying Isard! At least there'd be more use than from that empty-headed little alcoholic!"
"Jade..."
"Do you think I believe I mean nothing to you?! That after all my screw-ups, you gave me chances because you value me as a personal agent? That it was for that reason you came to Myrkr, clawing me out of Karrde's hands? Admit it to yourself, Thrawn, that we're drawn to each other!" she blurted into the Grand Admiral's face. "You're just an unfeeling piece of tactical computer in a Chiss shell, who can't or won't understand the obvious! There's chemistry between us! That bond, whose severance so confused the Force itself!"
Thrawn was silent for a few seconds.
During that time, Mara's soul dropped to her feet several times, then returned to its place, packed its belongings, and only then retreated back to the lower part of the girl's legs.
"Yes," Grand Admiral Thrawn said unexpectedly. "There really is chemistry between us..."
"Aha!" Jade said triumphantly and in a completely girlish manner. "I knew it! I knew it!"
"This situation needs to be discussed..." Thrawn continued. "Unfortunately, circumstances require my attention and presence elsewhere at the moment."
"Anytime!" Jade said fervently. "I'm ready to talk! Honestly and openly! It's time to confess everything to each other and stop pretending that we're just boss and subordinate!"
"Are you free two days from now in the afternoon?" Thrawn clarified in a tone...
In his most ordinary tone.
"Yes!" And to hell with the mission Thrawn had mentioned before all this started...
Everything that had happened in his quarters a few minutes ago.
"I'm free two days from now in the afternoon!" Mara repeated, looking at the Chiss with the triumph of a victor.
Well, finally they could talk without censorship.
And possibly without witnesses.
"Pity, only I'll be busy at that time," Grand Admiral Thrawn said slowly.
Oh, you son of a...
Mara, with one long stride, was in front of Thrawn.
So close that not a hand could fit between them, let alone the Noghri looking on bewildered.
Ruk seemed unsure whether his intervention was needed, and whether he should pull the red-haired fury away from his boss.
Or master.
Or whatever he was to them...
"You are the most bilious, the most unfeeling, the most cold-blooded, the most merciless creature in the galaxy, Thrawn!" Jade blurted out everything that came into her head.
Right in Thrawn's face.
"Thank you," he replied indifferently. "The best compliments I've heard recently."
"Bastard!" Mara, beside herself with anger (at herself, first and foremost), punched her little fist into the Grand Admiral's chest.
And felt her hand hit not just fabric and flesh, but a quite muscular, toned body...
Which was rather rare for Imperial commanders.
To check her impression, she punched a second time.
That's right.
Under his tunic, Thrawn was clearly hiding not a flabby body.
"Well," Mara spoke more quietly now, running her open hand over the defined muscles under the Grand Admiral's tunic. "At least I understand why the little baroness chose you."
"I'm sure she doesn't care about my human or any other qualities," the Grand Admiral replied just as quietly. "She cares about a political marriage and the guarantees of personal safety it provides."
"Yeah, right, as if I believe that," Mara sighed, reaching his officer's belt, decorated with a buckle bearing the Dominion's "gear" emblem. "Mark my words—she won't stop there."
"I'm sure of that," Thrawn replied. "I'm afraid Vice Admiral Pellaeon will have a hard time in that marriage..."
It took Mara a few seconds to connect the dots.
A smugly satisfied expression appeared on the red-haired fury's face.
She barely stopped herself from rubbing her hands together with satisfaction, like a cartoon villain from a holodrama.
"A clever way out of the situation," she said, looking into the Grand Admiral's eyes, occasionally losing focus and studying his lips.
"Thank you," Thrawn replied.
"But it wasn't done for my sake, was it?" Mara swallowed a bitter lump in her throat, understanding the absurdity of the situation.
"I'm afraid not, Lady Jade," Thrawn replied. "I have no plans to bind myself with marriage ties and be distracted from work by family idylls."
"I'd bet my lightsaber that after those words, Ysanne Isard started undressing," Jade whispered, not taking her eyes off the Grand Admiral's lips.
"I don't find it necessary to discuss this with anyone," Thrawn cut off. "My relationship with Isard is not subject to disclosure or discussion. Especially since you are my subordinate. And this whole conversation has gone too far."
"And you don't need to tell me anything about her," Mara said barely audibly, shuddering at the memory of the tortures the real Isard had subjected her to after Endor. That doesn't apply to the clone... She didn't do that... But she has all of Isard's memories. "I hate hearing stories about someone else. Let me be separate. And she separate."
"In that case..." Thrawn began.
Mara put on the most pitiful and enchanting look she could muster.
But unlike the approach she used in the art of acting in the Emperor's service, she was sincere this time.
"That's not allowed," the Grand Admiral uttered.
And hearing that hoarse prohibition—which the imagination of the aroused girl had almost elevated to the category of a stifled groan—was the best thing she had heard all evening.
"I know," she whispered, smiling. "But now you can't hide from me, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I know where your heart is."
"In my chest."
"Nope... In my hands."
To prove her words, she placed her palm on the man's chest, feeling his accelerated heartbeat.
She slowly scraped her nails across Thrawn's tunic, forming a little fist which she showed to the Grand Admiral.
Then, not hiding her pleased mood, she unzipped the collar of her jumpsuit a little and tucked Thrawn's imaginary heart inside.
The Supreme Commander looked at her with undisguised surprise.
Yeah, that's right, Thrawn.
You can predict your opponents.
And even guess that with a pliable and spineless man beside her, Mara would have unyieldingly dominated.
But next to...
For some reason, she wanted to feel like a small, mischievous little girl...
Psychologists say that a woman has as much restlessness, vulnerability, flirtatiousness, and tenderness as her chosen one has iron will, authority, charisma, and masculinity.
Psychologists are certainly idiots, but sometimes they say interesting things.
"So," Mara flopped onto the couch, crossed her legs, and folded her hands on top. "It turns out, Grand Admiral, you wanted to give me some assignment? I am entirely at your disposal."
Thrawn looked at her with suspicion and distrust, as if seeing someone with bipolar disorder before him.
He even looked at Ruk to make sure he wasn't imagining things.
Judging by the fact that the Noghri's own black bead-like eyes had turned into something like black holes, the bodyguard was clearly in a state of shock.
"Yes," Thrawn spoke in a perfectly ordinary tone, pulling an information briefing from another breast pocket of his tunic. "Your assignment is indicated here, Lady Jade. You must act with maximum efficiency."
"As always, Grand Admiral," Mara, like a sand panther, arched her body as she stood up, then stopped playing the act, understanding that where work began, there was no place for flirtation. "You can count on me."
Stepping out of the Grand Admiral's quarters, Mara smiled triumphantly, adjusted her hair in the reflection of the armor of one of the guards standing by the door, and then winked at him.
Softly whistling a tune she had heard on Tatooine, the girl wandered toward her ship.
He can't, huh...
Let's see how you'll sleep after such a show, Grand Admiral Thrawn.
And whether you'll remember your beloved Isard.
I should buy Vice Admiral Pellaeon a bottle of Corellian whiskey as thanks for averting the danger of Thrawn marrying that baroness.
With her, Mara would definitely not be able to compete.
Of course, unless she asked for the Baneblade back and captured a couple of sectors for Thrawn...