Chapter 20 — Agreements

Yesterday's translation. I forgot to post it. Enjoy reading :)

Moff Ferrus' residence was built by his predecessor. Thoroughly, according to all the rules of fortification.

The thickness of the walls, made of extremely durable building material, made it possible not to worry about them collapsing from even the slightest serious fire. The lower floors are a real labyrinth of corridors and rooms, built in such a way as to make it convenient to conduct a battle in them. The presence of shelters stylized as imperial decor, columns, ceilings —everything is designed to ensure that the fighters holed up inside the building have maximum shelter. But the attackers will have a bad time — the «designer» fortifications were built with the idea of ​​providing advantages to those who were holed up in the building. Apparently, the builders proceeded from the idea that in the event of war, only Imperials would be in this building. Because if the enemy had managed to capture the building, a seemingly simple squat quadrangular pyramid, then the imperials themselves would have washed themselves in blood during the assault.

I noticed all this as I walked, accompanied by Rukh, heading along the corridors to the underground levels. Casemates housing arsenals of heavy weapons, stormtrooper barracks guarding the residence, a central computer, utility and communication systems... The holy rule: «Hide everything valuable underground». Features of the psychology and thinking of people who strive to place the values ​​that are most important to them where they will be most difficult to find. Considering the numerous checkpoints on each floor of the residence, which turned into duracrete pillboxes, as soon as we got to the first underground floor, it immediately became clear that it would be very difficult for hypothetical enemies to fight their way here. Especially considering the easel heavy repeaters. It is «repeaters», not «machine guns».

There are certain misunderstandings with weapons in a galaxy far, far away at first glance.

The most common type of destructive element in ship and small arms weapons is... plasma. To create it, tibanna gas is used, through which a charge of energy is passed, the power of which can vary on most types of weapons — from a blaster pistol to a turbolaser. I haven't fully delved into the process, but as far as I understand, after the formation of plasma with the help of an energy discharge, the resulting substance is enclosed in a kind of magnetic cocoon, as a result of which it is no longer a shapesless charge of something obscene that flies to the target, but an elongated projectile similar in shapes for a segment of the world. This is called a «blaster bolt». Or turbolaser. Or laser — it all depends on the type of weapon.

The rate of fire of small arms is not particularly high compared to the firearms I was accustomed to in my past life. Otherwise, the queue would have merged into one continuous stream of energy —until the gas cartridge from the chibana was empty or the energy cell in the blaster was discharged. It is clear that on modern ships the principle of storing energy and gas is different than in blasters. However, during the Clone Wars, powerful weapons were widely used, powered not by one huge reactor or power unit, but using «ammunition» with a tibanna inside. Such a «shell» was placed in the gun, energy was supplied to the gas, a shot was fired, and the empty container was thrown out like a spent cartridge case.

There are also «slugthrower» in the universe — this is the name given to firearms here. The principle of operation is the same — pushing bullets out of cartridges under the influence of expanding gases of a chemical reaction. «slugthrower» have their advantages over blaster weapons — they can easily penetrate light or fabric armor (again, in modern times — in special cases). But the global flaw was never overcome even in a galaxy far, far away.

Ammunition weight.

One energy cell and gas cartridge in a standard Imperial E-11 carbine was enough for several hundred rounds, which is equivalent to a good battle. Moreover, the weight of such containers is the same as that of one Makarov pistol magazine. If my memory serves me right, the last one weighs a little less than a hundred grams, eighty or something. And that's only eight shots. A fighter takes several energy cells and gas cartridges into battle, depending on the unit in which he serves. But in any case, even if a soldier carries one kilogram of energy cells and the same number of gas cartridges, this will be enough for him to conduct continuous shooting for several days, if not more. At least I came across such references in reports on the conduct of protracted battles during the Clone Wars. At this time, such protracted operations as months of sieges or blockades practically do not occur.

So, while bullet weapons are still relevant and even widespread in the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions —blasters are preferred. Simply because the weight of the ammunition for battles of several hours of continuous shooting when using a slugthrower turns out to be prohibitive. That's why such a technique as «barrage fire» is widely used — in fact, you don't need to worry about the fact that overnight, in the midst of «firing at quadrants» you will run out of ammunition. Not to mention the fact that thanks to the magnetic field surrounding the plasma after the shot, depending on the power of the latter, there is also a kinetic stopping effect that can not only burn through and pierce the armor and reach the body, and there —cause damage, but also knock over or discard the hit target.

However, I am sure that there are some other reasons for abandoning firearms, but... At least I could not find them during a superficial study of the issue.

Well, as in my past life: the bow and crossbow have their place and are even effective, but firearms have supplanted them in widespread use in most countries of the world.

So, «slugthrowers» are the same «blaster machine guns». They have a massive power pack and a tibanna container, allowing them to fire long blaster bolts that are much more powerful than a standard blaster bolt. There are also manual analogues, but the fact remains that the imperial infantry and the Stormtrooper Corps are armed with «heavy machine guns». Against which only very good and very expensive armor can save you.

Actually, for this reason, the prison level was under the gun of heavy easel repeaters, and the «machine gunners» were behind duracrete caps-pillboxes. Reading the description of duracrete, permacrete, ferrocrete and similar materials, I just wanted to say «asphalt», «concrete», since they were very similar in consistency and appearance. Except that the permacrete roads didn't wash away as soon as the snow melted. Here in the Empire, they are never repaired or repaired endlessly. In construction, the Empire has the principle of «once built and forgotten». However, we should not forget that corruption in Palpatine's state was the same as in the democratic system of the Old Republic. And some ISB reports available in the archives indicated that the scope of this «enterprise» under Palpatine was almost greater than during the Republic. Only in the military sphere is it noticeably lower. By orders of magnitude.

Well, this is all lyrics... But it is useful to enlighten ourselves from time to time in order to understand how much I can be mistaken in my judgments based on the books I have read on this universe. Because in most cases, all the work of writers covering the «post-Endor period» focused on seeing the situation from the position of the heroes of the New Republic, for whom the Empire is almost the scourge of everything in the world and a synonym for absolute evil.

I had already become convinced of this before meeting C'baoth, when I whiled away the time studying issues of slavery and other internal policies of the Empire, for a better understanding of «where exactly we took a wrong turn». And even from superficial reports it became clear to me that it was not so categorical that «The Empire oppressed non-humans». Those who rebelled — yes, punishment awaited. But with the majority of other races, which were subject to imperial policies... The difference was not only noticeable. The «global oppression» that I spoke about with Baron D'asta was only observed in certain sectors and systems. But in the first years of its existence, and after the Battle of Yavin, Endor — yes, the Imperials «tightened the screws». But not at all on the scale that I had in my head. However, it was precisely this image that was supported by the propaganda of the New Republic —they presented individual cases as «systematic». And, as you know, if you repeat the same thing often, over time it will be perceived as truth.

So, one cannot say that the Empire is a «prison of nations». Not «good» of course, as the New Republic positions itself, but it's not that bad either. «Significantly» not that much.

Of course «a pig will find dirt everywhere» but such intriguing data required significant verification. On the one hand, the Imperials could properly tidy up their archives, and the Republicans could exaggerate what was happening. Everyone pursues their own goals and this is a normal state of affairs.

One way or another, in matters of foreign and domestic policy I should not be as categorical as I was when talking with the baron. The curious fact is that he did not correct me. Why? Because I agree? Or because he thinks I'm stupid? Or does he know very well that Thrawn appeared in Imperial Space not so long ago, after Endor, when the policy of human-centrism was gaining momentum in its most perverted form? After all, it is not without reason that the majority of those living in the Imperial Remnants are now people and representatives of races extremely close to them genetically. And "non-humans" even if they live on the territory of the Empire, are still «second class» and the best they can achieve is to occupy not the most significant positions in the imperial bureaucracy. And if these particulars are «taken out of brackets» then it must be stated that non-human races in the Empire at the moment are just a source of taxes and labor resources in industry.

This needs to be dealt with. And you shouldn't delay it —there can be extremely negative consequences. It's also worthwhile to «enrich yourself» with a significant part of the information about «how it was». So that «it becomes» turns out to be much better. If this turns out to be a feasible task, of course.

And the Morshdine sector, given the presence of «non-human races» in it, can always be used as a testing ground for updated internal policies. After all, it would still fall under Republic control after the Battle of Bilbringi...

I felt like I needed a good swear.

The Battle of Bilbringi is the end of Thrawn as far as I know. The New Republic attacked these shipyards in the hope of obtaining a mechanism that would allow them to level the invisible asteroids with which Thrawn blocked Coruscant, dropping them on the planetary shield of the capital of the New Republic. And as a result of the capture of Bilbringi, the Republicans, after the death of Thrawn, subjugated both Tangrene and the entire Morshdine sector. But, considering that I planned to make the «last battle» a campaign in the Sluis Van system, it is so obvious that they will conquer the sector. Just as Bilbringi and their shipyards will be captured. And the latter is connected with a curious episode of the attempt to capture "Lusankya"... Which is still unknown where it is located and is undergoing repairs after the events on Thyferra a year ago, when it was defeated by Isanne Isard. At least the Republicans and Imperials firmly believe in the latter. And only three people in the galaxy know the truth about her fate. And the truth, paradoxically, is fifteen or so. I am one of them. But not the real Thrawn, but his self-proclaimed successor.

—The prisoner has been taken to the interrogation room, Grand Admiral,— the shift commander of the stormtroopers on duty in the prison block of the casemates told me. Clad in snow-white armor, he stood next to a massive metal door, behind which the desired room was hidden.

And there was no need to clarify who exactly we were talking about. These cells are designed to hold political and high-priority prisoners. The first ones have not been seen here since Moff Ferrus came to power the Ubiqtorate preferred to use its own secret prisons. But the last category an hour ago changed from «zero» to «one detainee».

Proceeding inside the interrogation room, I was convinced that Rukh had followed me. The door closed behind us with a clang, leaving only four sentients in the small, almost cubic room. And only three of them are human

Rukh habitually remained behind me, sitting next to the entrance, to my right. I took a seat at a small metal table, on the other side of which a dark-skinned man sat on a chair welded to the floor. His face expressed a certain amount of suspicion and fear. There were several bruises and scratches on his face, signs of his attempt to escape from Mara Jade and her support group. Actually, because of this, the man is now handcuffed to a metal loop, also welded to the table. The fourth sentient, standing at the right wall of the interrogation room (surely for this reason Rukh chose his position) stood Mara Jade, dressed in a tight black jumpsuit. This woman's golden-red hair framed a very attractive face, and her green eyes looked at me so attentively, so emphatically penetrating...

Yes, this woman is beautiful. And dangerous. Very dangerous.

She also really wanted to talk to me before this meeting. But I refused. Not only because it was necessary to return to the Chimera under the protection of stormtroopers and the ysalamiri C'baoth —in no case should the mad Jedi learn about the very existence of Force-sensitive intelligent ones in my environment —be it even the privateer Tiberius, or Mara Jade. In the event of such a failure, you can forget about using this damn dangerous old man to increase your own military strength and divert the attention of a number of Republican heroes from the active events that are about to happen. Yes, many of the heroes of the New Republic have an enviable degree of luck and just irrational luck. How often have their opponents, seemingly not lacking in intelligence, simply gotten into trouble and lost everything? Every second time. I call this «plot armor». And I must admit, I'm not eager to test its work on my own skin. No really. If I'm right and a certain category of intelligent people in this galaxy is kissed by the Force itself on the crown and it's impossible to get rid of them in a simple way, then why not use this feature of them where I need it?

I refused to directly meet this woman, wonderful in all respects, because I also had to prepare for the questions she would ask me. I knew this from the very second I tried to enlist her support during the meeting on Myrkr. And now the fact that she carried out my order and captured the prisoner does not play a big role.

If I fail to convince her to become my supporter of her own free will, she will be lost. Of course, you can always find options on how to use her genetic material in case of failure, but something tells me that as long as the originals of the Force-sensitive sentients are alive, their clones will not be lucky.

It is very tempting to get a blood sample from Mara Jade and make several clones of her. But... these will only be empty shells, devoid of the memories of the original. Yes, you can copy the mind of Jade herself, as we do with all donors for Spaarti cylinders. But wouldn't that create a monster like C'Baoth? The Ysalamiri's ability to repel Forces is undoubtedly wonderful, but will it work? I preferred to leave the idea of ​​cloning Force-sensitive sentients in the presence of a living original, which one way or another can be used for my purposes, as a backup.

Let's see how we compare with the original Jade. If it is correct, it will remain in a single copy. If not...

Well, it's never too late to play it safe with a clone.

I want her willing cooperation. That is why she is here, at this interrogation, where, as I plan, the data that she must hear should be heard.

— How was your flight, Captain Hoffner? — I asked the black man.

—What you want from me? — he asked with poorly concealed hatred.

—Information,— I answered simply. Jade continued to glare at me with her green eyes. I wonder if she is angry that I refused to talk to her, or because she was denied interrogation of the prisoner immediately after his capture and during the flight. But according to the report of Captain Von Schneider, this sweet lady was very indignant because of this. On board the Coral Vanda, the stormtroopers did not allow her to do this, and on the Nemesis, the crew did not allow her to do this. In fact, deprived of access to the central computer and under round-the-clock surveillance, the red-haired beauty was as angry as possible by the time she arrived. Well, it was a proportionate risk — letting her near any panel on board the ship was dangerous for the mission. I remember very well from Timothy Zahn's books that this wonderful person has priority access codes to the central computers of star destroyers. And this is another reason why I want to get her voluntary help.

—I'm a simple man, an Imperial,— Hoffner told me. —I don't own anything that might interest you.

—We can go two ways, Captain Hoffner,— I said. —First, you voluntarily provide all the information that interests me and even receive for this a certain cash bonus and a job offer, after completing which you can become a very rich person and go wherever you want...

—Not a bad choice,— the man chuckled. —You can go straight to the last one.

—Rukh,— I called to the Noghri in an indifferent tone.

As a gray shadow, the bodyguard crossed the distance separating them and found himself behind Hoffner. A sinewy hand grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and forcefully pressed him to the table.

—You are silent when you are asked questions,— my bodyguard meowed threateningly in his ear. He expressively demonstrated the tip of his knife, which came close to the man's eye. —Understood?

—Y-yes, yes, I understand! —the man shouted at the moment when Rukh ran the blade flat across his cheekbone. Having released the prisoner, the Noghri almost instantly found himself in the same place where he had been until that moment.

Looking at Jade, he noted that her gaze had turned from angry to appraising. She herself, in her time, used threats more than once or twice to force intelligent people to do what they did not want. And it's unlikely that this short impromptu had any impact on her opinion of me.

— As you understand, captain, the second option is filled with pain,— I said. —We are civilized people and I really don't want to resort to him. Therefore, I would like your cooperation on the first of the options I have indicated. Because the second one, even if it takes more time, will still give me the necessary answers to my questions and save me the money that I intended to offer you. You understand that if the second option is implemented, you are unlikely to be able to continue life with the same set of organs and state of health that you currently have.

—You... explained everything very clearly,— the dark-skinned man answered me, licking his broken lips. —What exactly are you interested in?

—Several years ago, you were the commander of a freighter subordinate to such a famous person as Jorj Car'das. To refresh the prisoner's memory a little and hint at the degree of your knowledge means in most cases to reduce the time of interrogation. Such a trick would not have worked with Karrde or Han Solo —they are too stubborn and independent. But Hoffner, he is cut from a completely different cloth. This can be seen from his shifting eyes, from the uncertain, tense pose in which he sits in front of us. He feels extremely uncomfortable, uncomfortable and fears that everything will get even worse.

—Yes, there was such an episode in my life,— Hoffner admitted. If he suspects what will be discussed now, he is trying too hard to disown this thought.

— A member of your crew was a young navigator named Talon Karrde,— when voicing the name of her former boss, Mara Jade looked at me with open interest and suspicion. —He is now known as an information trader and smuggler known as «The Claw».

—Yes, he was in my crew,— Hoffner agreed. Judging by the changed expression on his face, he already guessed what it would be about. This kind of public may seem frivolous, but in fact they have better brains than many. Especially when their own lives are at stake.

—In your joint work, there was a case when, fleeing from an imperial patrol, you jumped to random coordinates,— I continued. and after leaving hyperspace, they ran into ships that they took for another imperial armada.

Hoffner swallowed loudly. That's it, now he no longer has doubts about the reason for his appearance here. And he is scared — in a well-lit room, his pupils dilate under the influence of adrenaline. And the reasons for its excessive appearance are well known to science. And most of the options do not fit the context of the current situation.

—You already know everything,— the captain said doomedly. —Why ask... He jerked back, seeing Rukh deliberately slowly rise to his feet. —Yes Yes Yes! There was such an episode!

—I need the coordinates of this place,— I said calmly.

Hoffner sat in silence for several seconds. He is far from a fool and understood that, in fact, after the answer, I would no longer need him as soon as intelligence confirmed that the coordinates were correct. And he didn't want to trust me either —the reputation of the Empire is not conducive to mutually beneficial relations. Mr. Calrissian, who participated in Darth Vader's trap of Luke Skywalker and his friends in Cloud City on Bespin, worked hard to ensure that this information became public knowledge among the relevant public.

—You talked about reward,— so, he has already moved from the —Denial— stage to the —Bargaining— stage. Great. —How much are you willing to pay me for this information?

—Depending on how quickly we can come to an agreement, because these coordinates are at the disposal of your former navigator, Talon Karrde,— I said. and also how many Dreadnought-class strike cruisers from the Katana fleet are in working order, and how many you have already sold to General Garm Bel Iblis.

Mara Jade made an inarticulate sound that was difficult to identify in any way. Looking at the girl, I was convinced that everything was fine with her. It's just that an expression of bewilderment was depicted on her beautiful face, mixed with rage (I hope towards her former employer) and irritation (and this is clearly a stone in my garden, since I forced her to «play dark»).

Hoffner, chewing his broken lips, wiped the blood flowing from his nose, sniffed it, clearing his sinuses, and then said:

—I sold six dreadnoughts to the Corellians,— his lips formed a contemptuously bitter smile. Judging by the fact that he didn't even try to look in my direction, he was now judging only himself. — Four more are now in optimal technical condition, at least they can move under their own power. I sold them for five hundred thousand credits apiece.

Which is seven million below their factory price when these ships were «popular». Now their cost rarely exceeds a million on the arms market. Too much investment is required to maintain even one such ship, too large a crew is required, and the cost of finding and purchasing spare parts is too high. And a lot more «too much».

—You are a business man, captain,— I said after the smuggler wrote the coordinates on the sheet of flimsiplast handed to him. Moreover, he did it in such a way that Mara Jade could not make out what was written. —You couldn't help but hear information that the Empire is acquiring warships. Why didn't you contact us? Or were they not offered to the New Republic? After all, a state of this size has much greater financial capabilities than one rebel cell.

—Because both the New Republic and the Empire have the same amount of budget,— stated Hoffner. —If I had contacted Coruscant, then, at best, I would have received at most a tenth of the money for each ship that Bel Iblis offered me. And the Empire... You would simply take them all away from me and send them around the world with holes in their pockets.

—You shouldn't think with prejudices,— I advised. at least in relation to me. I buy ships at a fair price. And I am sure that you could not help but understand that your monetary happiness could not last forever. You would sell a dozen, another, maybe fifty, a hundred ships, after which they would simply be shaken out of you when they realized that you had more of them than you say.

—Yes, but I would have managed to get a lot of money for what I could sell,— Hoffner smiled. Looks like Rukh knocked out some of his teeth.

—I gave you my word that you will receive a fair reward for these ships. And for everything,— the former smuggler's eyes widened. —The calculation is simple — two hundred and fifty thousand will be the maximum price for a fully operational dreadnought. From this array of credits the value of the costs required to repair each ship will be deducted. The received amount will be given to you immediately and in cash, if you are so interested in this issue. You will also be returned the funds that my operatives requisitioned from you during your arrest.

—Generous,— Hoffner did not try to bargain, realizing that this was an offer he could not refuse. —What's the catch?

—Consider it an advance,— I said. —You will be entrusted with a number of tasks, upon completion of which you will become richer... Let's say... by twenty million credits.

— Are you really an Imperial? — Hoffner clarified, looking at me with suspicion.

— Any doubts? — I asked, looking at the red-haired green-eyed girl. Judging by the way she narrowed her eyes, she was wondering the same question as the smuggler himself.

—None,— said Hoffner. —So what will my job be?

—Depends on how widely you are known among a certain contingent of intelligent people,— I said. On the one hand, it is wrong to discuss the details of the work of one of my clients in the presence of Mara Jade. But this is exactly what played into the hands of the rhetoric of our supposed conversation, which will certainly take place. — How well do you know the black market?

—I know several guys,— Hoffner shrugged, convincing himself that he was not in danger. —What is necessary?

Also, I want you to contact General Iblis or his people and set up a new meeting. As I understand it, your negotiations on the Vanda Coral were interrupted?

—Well... yes,— Hoffner glanced sideways at Mara Jade. Reflexively he stroked his chest. Obviously the beauty applied it properly during the capture or when trying to escape. —But there may be problems with this.

—What kind of? —I asked.

—They always came to me on their own,— he said. —I lived on that ship, and our last deal was supposed to be dedicated to the sale of four heavy cruisers.

That's even how... Interesting. I don't remember this happening in the events that I know of.

—Do you know the reason why they are looking for these ships? —I asked.

—The Empire has caused a mess in the Dafilvean sector,— he said. —So I understand that Bel Iblis decided to increase the number of ships in his fleet in order to fight back if your ships find him.

— Do you know where his base is? —I was surprised.

—No,— the man shook his head negatively. —We only met on the Coral Vanda. They brought an advance payment for each of the ships at an appointed place, I went to the point of deployment of the fleet, chose a better dreadnought and drove it to a place from where I gave them a signal on a coded frequency, which was communicated to me upon meeting. They flew in, gave the second part of the amount, and we parted until the next deal.

— Have you been told the frequencies for the new meeting? —I asked. It seems that an opportunity has arisen to lure Bel Iblis into a trap. And if not him, then one of his henchmen.

—No,— Hoffner dashed my hopes for an easy victory. Well, if one option cannot be implemented, it does not necessarily mean that others will not work. For example, coordinator Sergius on New Cov may have much better luck. Or... Frequencies... Six trades. After each, the smuggler contacted the buyers. Now buyers, of course, already know about what happened at Coral Vanda, in particular about the death of their performers. But do they know that I have Hoffner? It is unlikely, but such an option should not be dismissed outright. On the contrary, it can be used. But it will only work if the Corellians do not know about Hoffner's capture. And they will monitor previous frequencies in order to find out if he will try to contact them again. —They didn't even give me an advance. We were just at the negotiation stage — they were ready to buy all four ships at once, but I understood that I could not transfer the ships myself and bargained for more time.

— Did the high degree of automation of the ships from the Katana fleet allow you to make jumps without crew members? — I asked as calmly as possible.

—I have a small team —two technicians and droids,— he said. —If they really want to, they can help with the jump, but we mostly made transactions within one or two parsecs of the entire fleet. On a much longer flight a lot can happen...

— Do you still have frequencies from previous transactions? —Mara Jade suddenly asked. I looked at the girl, Rukh stood up, but was immediately stopped by me. Actually, she said the same thing I wanted to ask. Obviously we were thinking the same thing.

—Yes, of course,— said Hoffner. —If necessary, I will give them to you.

—We need it,— I confirmed, giving Jade an approving nod. With her question, she demonstrated that she was also considering the possibilities of hunting Bel Iblis. She personally didn't need him, which means she's showing me that she's ready to help.

Okay, let's record this thought.

—Is that all you want from me? —Hoffner blinked his eyes.

— Can you suggest anything else? — I asked reservedly. — Maybe the coordinates of the "Errant Venture" Booster Terrik? Or the location of "Sa Nalaor"? Or any other interesting starships?

Hoffner hesitated.

—I'm not on good terms with Terrik, like everyone else I know well, he's not a bird of our kind,— he said thoughtfully. —Sa Nalaor... I didn't know that the Imperials believed in myths,— he looked at me searchingly. I didn't answer him — it's already clear that the smuggler is trying to grab at least some piece of information. It's better to consider this a bad joke, and not a question from the series: «What if it works?» —And about interesting starships... Judging by what you asked about the "Errant Venture", are you looking for something big and with many guns?

— An interesting synonymous expression for the term "star destroyer" — I appreciated. —Judging by your facial expression, you are clearly ready to share information. Ready to listen to you.

—Well... everyone seems to know that,— he said, shyly. —In the Corporate Sector, there are still a huge number of victory-class star destroyers about a thousand. I heard that some of them can be purchased at bargain prices, although their technical condition, of course, is not the best.

Yes, I also know this fact. Just like the fact that the Corporate Sector, before Palpatine's death, was a pro-imperial region —for which, in fact, it received preferences in the form of an entire fleet of "Victories" and other imperial equipment from conservation. They have a lot of things —except the desire to cooperate with the Imperials. Because they do business with the New Republic. Albeit rare, but largely promising. And they definitely won't agree to an open agreement on the sale of star destroyers. But secretly...

— Are you able to facilitate the conclusion of such a deal? —I asked.

—Um... Hoffner hesitated. —I'm not ready to say for sure, but... we can try.

This means that at the moment this is generally an extremely unlikely scenario for the development of events. "Victory", although not the most powerful ship in the Empire's fleet, is largely combat-ready and requires a small number of crew for its maintenance and management. And their cost compared to the same "Imperial" ones is much lower about three times. And considering that the New Republic also has a large number of ships with low military power, "Victory" can always find a suitable job. There would be money to purchase these ships.

— Any other options, Mr. Hoffner? —I asked.

—There was a rumor that Hirael Chindiaye, the Black Sun six a year after the rebels blew up the Death Star, had a Star Destroyer, maybe even an Imperial one,— Talon Karrde's former commander said thoughtfully.

—He sold it for scrap,— Mara Jade said, casting a wary glance at me. How is that even possible? Battleship for scrap? And even after the Battle of Yavin? I wonder how this «comrade» was able to lay his paw on such a miracle of technology?

—Not the most worthy end of service for a warship,— I said.

—Well, it could have been even worse,— Hoffner chuckled unexpectedly.

—It seems that there is a rather interesting story behind this phrase —for some reason it seems to me that this man knows much more than he wants to tell. Maybe, in fact, it is worth instructing him to interrogate him with passion? Although no, without knowing even a minimum of information, you may not really get anything in response. But it will only spoil a useful source of information.

Well, let's try to cooperate with him. I hope he won't tell me now about the imperial equipment at the Hast shipyards?

— Have you heard about the pirate group «Invids»?

—No,— I admitted. There are a huge number of pirate groups in this galaxy. And it's not a fact that at least some of them can be pulled out of memory just like that. And I'm not comfortable with brainstorming in front of these two. Doesn't match the image. — For a long time my attention was focused... in a different direction.

A barely audible chuckle came from Mara Jade's direction. She already knows in which part of the galaxy the real Thrawn was located on Palpatine's instructions.

—In general, this is a very cohesive and well-organized pirate group,— Hoffner explained. —They are commanded by the former Imperial Moff Leonia Tavira.

Something familiar stirred in my memory. I don't remember for sure now, but... it seems that this name is somehow connected with Corran Horn. And one interesting group of Force-sensitive sentients. But this is only if my memory does not fail me.

—The Invids are a very secretive group,— Mara Jade identified herself again. —Nobody knows where they are based and what targets they choose.

—Well, that doesn't stop them from hunting in the Mid Rim,— Hoffner chuckled. although yes, their location is still a mystery. The New Republic would pay handsomely for such information. After all, they are good at getting on the nerves of the rebels and plucking their caravans.

—The problems of the New Republic and piracy on their territory concern me less,— I said.

—But you said that you would need information about warships,— Hoffner was surprised.

—How does this relate to Leonia Tavira and her pirates? —I asked.

—The Invid have some good cruisers,— Mara Jade said, clearly searching her memory.

— And Tavira's flagship is the "two",— Hoffner smiled wryly.

Come on? In this galaxy, everyone has their own...

—Imperial-class Star Destroyer,— the smuggler explained his terminology, obviously thinking that I did not understand him. —Second modification.

Wonderful are your deeds, far, far galaxy...

Should I become a pirate? Apparently, this happens to every first person. All you need is your own Star Destroyer.

—Intriguing information,— I tried not to show my interest. —We will check it, but after we have settled with you on the ships of the Katana fleet. But first, our doctors will examine you and spare you the excesses of your invitation to visit us.

Without a doubt, one could simply take the fleet by force and not pay Hoffner anything. After all, even in the best case for us, this could amount to hundreds of millions of expenses. But I intend to use this intelligent one more widely. And in a much longer term. Therefore, force and intimidation are not particularly suitable here. And I'm not a supporter of torture, actually. I prefer to negotiate. And money... You can always earn them.

Moreover, if the information about Leonia Tavira's possession of a Star Destroyer turns out to be correct, then we need to try to take this ship away from her. It is unlikely that it will be possible to come to an agreement, to call for service... Also unlikely. If I wanted to, I would probably have already responded. I am sure that this group has a large network of informants —otherwise how can they easily carry out their raids under the nose of the Republic and not get caught? I have no doubt that the Republican intelligence in the person of Mr. Airen Cracken is digging deep into the earth to find them and bring them to justice. Because a Star Destroyer in uncontrolled hands... It's scary. They already barely agreed that Booster Terrik still had the "Errant Venture" and only because this smuggler was «conditionally loyal». But here is a female Imperial Moff, who is at the head of a pirate group with cruisers in its assets, and even has a Star Destroyer in her hands... Yes, such information can make anyone wake up at night in a cold sweat.

I looked at the line of numbers written on the flimsiplast. Hmm... if I imagine correctly, this place is somewhere in the «southern part of the galaxy»...

—Yes, about the coordinates,— Hoffner said unexpectedly. —Can you give me back the paper?

— Do you want to keep it as a souvenir? Mara Jade chuckled.

—No,— Hoffner winced, looking at me guiltily. —I just got a little mixed up there... You don't want to fall into a black hole, do you?

Having measured him with the cold gaze of his scarlet eyes, he silently handed him a piece of paper to make adjustments. A slight mockery appeared in Mara Jade's eyes. She immediately disappeared as soon as our gazes crossed.

No, I was wrong. After such an outburst, the costs of purchasing the Catana fleet will decrease by an order of magnitude. Don't play tricks like that on me.

This is not in your rank, Captain Hoffner.

***

The implementation went according to plan.

The old freighter landed at the New Cova spaceport just a few minutes before the Crusader's attack began. The appearance of a Victory-class Star Destroyer in the skies above the planet caused a commotion in the town.

And instantly washed the customs officers and security service out of sight. Yes, they have nothing to do here in view of the appearance of landing shuttles over the city in the area of ​​biomolecular mass synthesizers. The locals, as planned, planned to repulse the landing.

And the fact that Captain I-Gor concentrated his forces directly in the industrial area, around the production of that same biomolecular mass, allowed the enemy to expose other parts of the city, withdrawing patrols and guards from there. The reputation of —coming to rob production— spoke for itself and was built on that —the attention of the local government is concentrated in one place, although key aspects of the operation will be carried out in another.

Having easily hacked the defense systems of an aircar abandoned by someone, Sergius and the team of Major Molo Khimran moved towards the residence of the planetary governor.

During the time of Imperial dominion over the galaxy, there were no Imperial troops stationed on the planet and no Imperial protege. Everything was managed by local officials, and therefore there were no big problems in getting where they needed to go. New Cov continues to portray itself as an independent planet, independent of either the Empire or the rebel state. Therefore, the resistance in orbit turned out to be minimal. A couple of ancient ships that have seen the Clone Wars are nothing more than an appetizer for the Crusader. And the main course will not be served here —there is no one to ask for protection. If there is minimal destruction, the local government will not hysterically turn to the rebels for help. And once an agreement can be reached with their ruler, there will be no problems at all.

The building of the central town hall, where the planetary governor was located, is quite noticeable. Despite the fact that the two-story building, which had clearly seen better years, smacked of the architecture of an outright backwater —like most of the buildings in this city.

No serious security or sentry systems. Only a couple of military men at the main gate. Judging by his demeanor and handling of weapons, he's clearly a local. All the better.

Imperial scouts climbed over a low fence, crossed a ten-meter lawn in a few seconds and are now pressing against the walls of the town hall. There is no one to keep an eye on them —the townspeople are hiding in their homes, the officials are hiding in more secluded places. And only the planetary governor and several of his trusted representatives intend to sit out in the town hall. Because in their minds it is an impregnable fortress.

Well, it's time to disappoint them with this.

Using hooks, they climbed one by one to the second floor balcony. A quick check —the corridors are empty. Cutting glass in a door using laser cutters is a matter of seconds.

Putting the transparent material aside so as not to give away their location, the scouts entered inside, switching their weapons to stun mode.

There was no point in destroying anyone here in the town hall. Officials of New Cov and any other planet are extremely sensitive to the death of their henchmen. They are of little interest to the military —you can always find new ones. But the officials... When in the bureaucratic apparatus several criminal schemes can be «tied» to the same employee at once, this imposes a certain discontent on the part of the high authorities on those who take the lives of these sentients.

Therefore, everything needs to be done without fatalities.

Walking along the empty corridor to the governor's reception room, Sergius raised his fist up. The detachment correctly responded to the attention— sign, sorting out possible attack directions by sector.

There were three guards in the reception area. In battered body armor, armed with weapons that were outdated but still capable of killing, they organized a defense. No face or head protection. No additional armor. Not professionals — militia. The location is not the best —there is too much space for a possible attack. Therefore, they are clearly not here of their own free will. From which we can conclude that they are directly protecting the governor.

Well...

Sergius gave instructions with a conventional gesture.

Two fighters, taking out a flash-noise grenade from numerous pockets, threw them towards the defenders. The Imperials' helmet visors darkened, and external audio feeds were cut off to protect their eyes and ears from the shock.

There were sounds of shooting. Then a rumble and a flash of light. Cries of despair.

A short dash forward, shooting at the screaming guards with stunners and then three bodies freeze on the floor.

Molo Khimran, having dispatched one soldier to guard the local soldiers and the second to control the situation, proceeded to the door leading to the governor's office. The fighters, including Sergius, stood at the wall on both sides of the entrance, ready to rush inside. The commander of the imperial reconnaissance squad hit the panel and the metal door panel moved to the side, hiding in the wall.

And at the same moment, scarlet blaster lightning gushed from inside. No system, no hint of targeted shooting. This is a desperate gesture. Judging by the sounds of shooting, there are two or three people inside. They fire at the same time. According to their characteristic features, they are holding the same type of light blasters, the civilian version. That means there's about ten to twenty rounds of gas there, nothing more. And they shoot at the same time. Therefore, they will recharge in the same way...

The local fire had died down by exactly two-thirds —it seemed that not all blasters were of the same type. But this is enough.

Sergius rushed into the opening, timing the interval between shots.

Once inside the office, he ducked behind a cabinet standing near the door, into which two blaster bolts immediately crashed. At the same moment, Major Khimran's soldiers found themselves in the office.

Two guards were knocked out by stunner fire, but the governor, a short, plump man with a receding hairline, dressed in exquisite clothes made of expensive fabric, barely saw that half a dozen soldiers clad in medium armor, armed to the teeth, appeared on his threshold, and threw them away in fear to the side his blaster and plopped down in a voluminous chair, raising his hands up.

—I... I give up! —the governor squeaked.

—Perimeter,— Molo commanded the soldiers, while Sergius had already dragged the governor straight from the table in his chair. While the scouts searched the guards for weapons, the coordinator pulled the nearest chair towards him and sat down in it opposite the governor. The major, like the image of a punishing angel, positioned himself behind his right shoulder.

—How many more intelligent people are in the building?! — the coordinator gave a light slap to the fat man's face.

—J-just me and f-f-five guards,— he babbled. — T-today is the weekend, no one is working.

All the better. Although, I wonder what you were doing here? And why didn't he say anything about those two downstairs? However, it doesn't matter, the second group left on the planet will sort it out and look after the fat man if they find a common language with him. And from Khimran a message came to the helmet display that the Rotozei below had already been relieved of problems with their vital functions.

—I have a proposal for you, governor,— Sergius began without prelude.

—W-w-what? — the fat man nervously looked first at the coordinator, then at the rest of the empire's fighters, not understanding who they were and what they needed. It is impossible to identify them by appearance. Each person wears a helmet with an opaque visor. No insignia. The uniform is expensive, but easy to buy on any black market.

—Biomolecular mass,— Sergius continued. — How much of it do you produce?

—W-what? —The fat man blinked his eyes. —Th-what does this have to do with it?

—We need your products,— Sergius explained. —Not all of it, just some of it.

—The Imperials are taking it now,— the governor blinked.

—Don't judge things by first impressions,— Sergius said. —There are many organizations in the galaxy that have ships taken from the Empire. We are one of them. We apologize for this mess, but there is no other way to agree with you.

—C-could just call,— the governor looked at the holoprojector built into the table. —We sell a ton to over a thousand customers across the galaxy. Anonymously.

Sergius almost slammed his hand into his face.

He stagnated as a coordinator if he lost sight of such a detail.

It's good that Molo chuckles barely audibly.

—We have a problem with trust and communication systems,— a pathetic excuse, of course, and so does the Hutt. —So to speak. This raid is a demonstration of what we can do to your planet if you decide to betray us. The conditions are simple — we need your biomolecular mass. We will discuss the volumes separately. Once a week a ship will arrive to you. We arrive, take the amount of biomass we need and fly away. Do you store it in containers immediately after production? — the fat man nodded affirmatively. —That's good. The easier it will be for you. Our shuttles descend on your enterprise under the guise of robbery and take away everything we need. After we make sure that the product is of proper quality, you will personally receive the required amount of credits. Not the enterprise,— Sergius emphasized. —To you. For everyone else it will be the same robbery. Anyone who tries to stop us will be destroyed. It is clear? —The fat man nodded his head. Very energetic. Understanding, which is good. —It's in your best interests to make sure that no one is nearby at the time of the raid. How to implement this is your problem. If you decide to deceive us, we will sort it out with you. If you decide to betray and call for help from the Empire or the New Republic, or mercenaries, or anyone else, we will find a way to turn your planet into a mountain of slag. Have you ever seen what a broadside salvo of proton torpedoes from one victory does to a city? — the coordinator asked.

The governor shook his head vigorously and extremely negatively. So that the second and third chins almost went on an independent journey.

—It's such a spectacle,— said Sergius. —I don't advise testing our patience. We have nothing to lose, but backed up against the wall we are very, very dangerous. All clear?

The fat man was covered in large and extremely smelly drops of sweat. Judging by the smell and wet trousers, he was not only sweating. The coordinator turned off the external breathing air intake on the helmet.

—That's good,— Sergius said, looking at the chronometer. —Task two.

He put the data chip on the table.

—Here,— the coordinator pointed to the device, —is data about sentiens that we are interested in,— and in fact, this is a list with holographic photographs of all known supporters of Garm Bel Iblis, who disappeared from view with him at about the same time. And also an impressive list of bothans from the clan of Councilor Fey'lya. The Grand Admiral especially insisted on introducing the latter. — You instruct your people to take a closer look. If you find any of them on your planet, and we know that they are here, let us know on the frequency that is on the chip. Don't do anything yourself — we will do everything ourselves. For information about the discovery of at least one of these intelligent ones, we guarantee you a reward of one hundred thousand credits,— the governor's eyes widened. after his capture, of course, if your information turns out to be correct. If we have more tasks for you, we will let you know. Don't tell anyone about our agreements if you value your life and the lives of your children, parents, relatives and all three mistresses. We also know about the bastard, and believe me, he won't hide from us even on Coruscant. All clear?

—Y-yes,— said the governor. —But... attack... The soldiers remember that they were attacked... I don't need problems...

—Don't worry about it,— Sergius's smile was not visible under the mask. He signaled to Molo, who jerked the fat man up from his seat and dragged him to the nearest guard, who was lying on his back.

Sergius was convinced that one of the operatives, having finished placing listening devices around the reception and office, demonstratively activated a portable holocamera.

—Baptism of blood, dear governor,— Sergius continued to play his role as a corsair, placing his blaster in the hand of the governor, who was shaking with fear and awareness of what was about to happen. A short click signaled that the weapon had been switched to lethal firing mode. —If you want to cooperate and receive money from us, you must stain your hands with blood. Finish him off.

The fat man stood, shifting unsteadily from foot to foot, his sticky fingers gripping the handle of his blaster pistol. He looked around frantically, as if seeking support from seven people in black gear. But I couldn't read their emotions, since their faces continued to be hidden by their helmets.

—Come on, governor,— said Sergius. —Either you or our millions will flow into the pockets of other officials!

The mention of the money that could go to him personally, despite the fact that it exceeded the annual budget of the entire planet, played a decisive factor. The fat man threw a look full of greed in their direction. He looked at his victim.

And he decided.

A scarlet ray burst out of the barrel, instantly piercing the guard's thin armor and causing his body injuries incompatible with life.

—Excellent, governor,— Sergius praised him. —You are almost one of us.

— Almost? —The fat man clearly didn't like what was said.

—Of course,— said the coordinator. — There are four more witnesses left.

By this time, the fighters had already laid out the corpses so that their death from the attackers' fire looked more plausible. All that was left was...

A couple of Himron fighters, armed with guard blasters, opened random fire in the reception and office, simulating a shootout. The rest dispersed around the town hall with the same goals. Traces of hits on the walls and furniture will indicate that there clearly could not have been losses here. The professionalism of the execution of the action is another reason to let yourself get caught on your tail.

A minute later the operation was repeated, but with the use of the attackers' weapons. If someone gets bored and begins a deep analysis of the damage, he will no doubt discover that shots from the blasters of the guards flew from inside the premises to the outside, and the blasters of the attackers —in the opposite direction. Spectral analysis of hits will make it possible to identify guard weapons, but agent blasters are a very expensive and makeshift assembly. Which is sold on the black market. Imperial intelligence at all times preferred to use reliable standard weapons

When the governor, shaking with fear and awareness of what he had done, handed the weapon to Sergius, sweating profusely, he deftly caught the blaster in a paper bag specially prepared for this, which he took out of the pocket of his belt.

—It's nothing personal, Governor,— he explained. —Your pieces of skin remained on the weapon with which you shot your own guards in order to remove witnesses and continue to profit from our illegal operations. Any analysis will confirm that they were killed from this weapon. Any genetic examination will conclude that you were holding it in your hands. If you decide to play some kind of trick on us, these weapons and the holotape will end up somewhere in the intelligence services of the New Republic. And in a couple of weeks they will «liberate» your planet from the «bloody tyrant». All clear?

—Y-yes,— the fat man with all his giblets now belongs to them. And only to them.

—Well, great,— Sergius chuckled. Taking another blaster from Molo's hands, he switched it to combat mode and quickly shot at the fat man's leg and arm.

With a cry of pain, this pile of fat collapsed to the floor.

—W-why?! —he asked, shedding tears, seeing how his own blaster, from which he had just decorated the walls of the entire office, was being put into his hand.

—Well, who will believe your story that five guards died at the hands of the attackers, and you were not injured? —Sergius laughed. —On the chip you will also find a story, which you will feed to your associates. All the best, Mister Governor.

Five minutes later they returned to their aircar. The city was overcome quickly —TIE interceptors were still circling over the city, from time to time firing at some ruins. Judging by the angular and clearly unprofessional trajectories, the pilots tried their best to demonstrate how incompetent they were and generally ended up at the controls due to a misunderstanding.

By the time the Crusader left and the second group of scouts found a safe shelter, Sergius and his group had already gotten rid of special equipment and changed into civilian clothes. The same one in which they managed to replace the spaceport cameras after landing.

—So what kind of cargo do you have there? — the customs officer appeared half an hour later. As well as the pretty battered fighters of the local army, who were greatly terrified when meeting with the stormtroopers. But now they paraded through the streets and surrounded the town hall to demonstrate to the local population that everything is in order, they will protect everyone, and so on according to the list of the powerless demagogue.

—Grain,— Sergius, playing the role of a provincial, blew his nose on the surface of the landing site. —Do you do it this often?

—For the first time,— the customs officer admitted. —They stole our production of biomolecular mass in two weeks! Why do the Hutts need so much seasoning? They can feed a couple of legions.

—Yes, the Hutt knows,— Sergius wiped his nose with his sleeve. —Let me quickly unload grain for you at the lowest price, so I can quickly get you off this inhospitable planet.

—Yes,— the customs officer nodded his head approvingly. —I wouldn't refuse either.

***

As paradoxical as it sounds, there was a throne room in the Moff's residence.

The size of a football field, designed to receive various types of petitioners and official meetings. Surely, various kinds of celebrations were held right there. However, this is no longer important.

The main thing is that this room is very similar to Palpatine's throne room in the Imperial Palace. The ambience necessary for the conversation that awaits me. Not the one I was driving now. And more... dangerous.

—So, Booster Terrik refused to deal with you, Mr. Ferrier,— I summed up the hijacker's report, looking at the hologram projected by a device located a few meters to the right of my position. Due to the fact that the massive chair, exactly like the one in which the Emperor loved to sit aboard the Death Star, could rotate around its axis, there were no problems with looking straight into the eyes of the interlocutor.

From what Moff Ferrus told me, these kinds of high-tech thrones have been in vogue since the Emperor exterminated the Jedi. Such a chair was in his office when he served as Supreme Chancellor. There was a similar thing in the throne room inside Mount Tantiss. And according to my recollections, Sidious sat in it during the duel between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader during the Battle of Endor.

The low stepped platform on which the chair was located allowed the person sitting in it to rise above the others by a good meter. A small trick to emphasize the high position of one above those who came to this room. The psychology of repression in its purest manifestation. Such a trick will not work on intelligent people with a high IQ who know their worth, but on the rest... Of which the majority are...

—Yes, that's right, Grand Admiral,— "Sniff" winced with displeasure. —Looks like you can't get buzz droids through him. And you will have to turn to the Zann Consortium. Plan «Besh», so to speak.

Besh... the second letter of the alphabet of the main galactic language, also called basic. Or in scientific terms: aurebesh.

—For what? —I clarified. —The Aurek plan is still in force.

—Sir? — the hijacker closed his eyes. — But Booster Terrik refused to sell buzz droids. You didn't buy his offer to exchange the mechanisms for my head, did you? He'll deceive!..

I didn't even pay attention to the hijacker's further screams. Buzz droids in exchange for the hijacker's head? Yes, a tempting offer that sAves a lot of money, time and nerves. In addition, Terrik, if he does not understand, is already assuming that Ferrier is working for the Empire. And there will definitely not be fruitful cooperation with the smuggler. It wasn't supposed to.

Paradoxically, Sniff, an outcast in his illegal environment, is more useful to me than Booster Terrik. And it is less Hastful if you approach the issue correctly. And Sniff... is a very convenient supplier of Corellian ships, which I need to significantly increase the power of star destroyers.

—Let's move on to the second phase, Mr. Sniff,— I interrupted his stream of verbal outpourings. Most of it is pointless, but one moment is extremely intriguing.

—Grand Admiral? — he bulged his eyes. —I don't understand. Was there a second phase?

—Every trick consists of three actions,— I said. There is no point in explaining to Ferrier that I need more than just buzz droids from Terrik. But so do they. However, if the hijacker did not understand this during our last conversation, this is his problem. And only him. — Action one is completed. Act two is just beginning.

— And... what will it be like? "Sniff" asked cautiously.

— As far as I know, Mirax Terrik is one of the most famous antiques dealers,— I recalled. And I really hoped that I was not mistaken. — Is she still in this kind of business?

—Yes, of course, he is very profitable,— the hijacker said dumbfounded. For a moment, I remembered that the labyrinth under Mount Thantiss was a labyrinth full of art and rare jewelry. It turns out that I have a gold mine under my hands. It's funny that I considered Palpatine's reserves only in a military role. And the fact that these values ​​can be realized and get huge money... Yeah. I'm not Thrawn. He would probably have found a way to get rich by selling antiques, carefully accumulated by Palpatine as a symbol of his victories. I wonder how much they will cost? — A...

—Contact Captain Pellaeon,— I said. —He will give you the coordinates of the meeting place. There you will receive several antiques —no, we never got to Palpatine's collection —the labyrinth is extremely ingenious. But, as far as I remember, Thrawn himself has a couple of interesting specimens in his reserves. There was even a race for one of them with Princess Leia and her family. Thrawn received the piece of art, but the rebel cipher hidden in it went to the rebels. —With these values ​​and a cover group, you will find Mirax Terrik and invite her to implement them through her mediation.

—Sir, I don't get the point... — admitted the hijacker.

—You don't need to,— I replied. —Do as ordered. And, yes, your offer is accepted.

—Which one, sir? — the hologram blinked its eyes.

—Didn't you promise me more Corellian ships like DP20 and CR90? — I asked, arching my eyebrow questioningly. —Five units of each type in exchange for ignoring Booster Terrik's offer. As far as I remember, you just offered them in exchange for your life.

—Yes, Grand Admiral,— the hijacker said doomedly. —I'll do everything.

—I have no doubt,— without any goodbyes, he turned off the holoprojector.

And a second later, with a loud hiss, the doors of the main entrance to the throne room opened to the sides.

Inside, with a model gait «from the hip», dressed in a tight black combat suit, emphasizing the beauty of her trained figure, looking straight into my eyes with her green lights on a beautiful face framed by golden-red hair, the Emperor's Hand entered. She behaved proudly, independently, demonstrating that she knew her worth and would not fall on her face at the mere sight of me, regardless of my position and the loyalty to the Empire drilled into her head. A predator that is able to get rid of any obstacles in its path. The predator who came for answers.

The finale of my first global focus in this galaxy was approaching.

It's time to recruit Mara Jade.

P.S. More comments = more activity = more populatiry = more motivation = more chapters