...to each according to his need (IV)

"Alright," I concluded, wrapping up the meeting. "You and your team have four hours to prepare for the mission."

"What exactly is our objective?" Bravo-2 inquired, his tone professional and to the point.

"I need you to locate someone for me," I replied. "You'll receive his name just before deployment. The information we have on him is scarce. He's a former smuggler who once commanded a ship in the service of a man known as Georges Car'das. From what we know, he's currently deeply involved in gambling and has a particular fondness for floating casinos."

"Do you want him brought in alive or dead?" Sergius asked, seeking clarification.

"Alive—without exception," I emphasized. "Consider this task a test of your professional abilities."

"Understood, Grand Admiral," the Ubiqtorate coordinator responded, his expression serious. "Are there any time constraints for completing the operation?"

"He must be in front of me no later than two weeks from now," I specified.

"It will be done," the Imperial intelligence officer assured. "May I be dismissed?"

"You're dismissed," I said, my tone indifferent. As the scout exited the room, I turned my gaze to Pellaeon.

"Captain," I addressed him after Sergius had left, "do you have any questions?"

"Yes, sir," the Chimera's commander replied, nodding. "Are you confident that this 'Ubiqtorate' can be trusted?"

"We'll find out soon enough," I said, glancing at the chronometer. "My first meeting is in an hour, and my second in two."

"With the Moff and Captain I-Gor," Pellaeon noted. "Sir, to be candid, I find it puzzling that you're taking this intelligence officer's opinions regarding these individuals into consideration. Can we really trust the words of a Ubiqtorate operative?"

"Not entirely," I admitted. "However, it's worth giving him a chance. Coordinator Sergius has expressed a genuine desire to serve our cause. While we currently have no solid evidence to label him a liar, we won't dismiss his offer of assistance. Instead, we'll give him an opportunity to prove his loyalty—perhaps by evaluating the accuracy of his assessments during the upcoming meetings with other intelligence personnel."

Pellaeon listened, a hint of irritation flickering across his face, though he nodded in understanding. It seemed he couldn't quite shake his bias against Imperial Intelligence and presumed that I had simply taken someone's word for it.

"Have you received an update on how soon the shipyard will repair the damage to our fleet?" I inquired.

"All ships will be out of the docks within two to four weeks, sir," the Star Destroyer commander reported. "The Chimera will be battle-ready in three days, the Death's Head and the Imperious in another day, and the remaining starships will leave the repair bays after a week. The total cost of repairs will be approximately half a million credits, but this will deplete nearly all of Tangren's warehouses. After our next battle, we'll have no spare parts readily available for quick repairs."

"Order a convoy of Star Galleons to the Bilbringi Shipyards," I commanded. "We need spare parts, fighters, interceptors, bombers—any resources that will enable our fleet to conduct repairs at a single location—here. Once the orbital defense station and the ships delivered by Messrs. Ferrier and Vane arrive, we won't have any trouble organizing both patrols and further offensives."

"Sir, in that case, should we also transport the captured freighters from Bilbringi?" Pellaeon asked. "And perhaps consider the experiments with the camouflage field as well…"

"There's no need for that, Captain," I said firmly. "We won't concentrate all our assets in one location," I almost uttered the familiar phrase about eggs in a basket. "Besides, the shipyard staff here will already have their hands full, without the distraction of additional projects. Are the cargo holds of the Death's Head and the Imperious cleared of their asteroid freight?"

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon confirmed. "Standard procedure requires the unloading of ammunition, military equipment, and ground contingents, along with the crew, except for the watch, during repairs."

"I'm well aware of standard procedures, Captain—they're giving me quite the headache lately," I remarked. "But my primary concern is how closely the shipyard workers adhered to them. Under Ubiqtorate control, there could have been significant changes in the workers' psychology regarding the enforcement of orders. Have our technical teams remain on board, and, in addition to their primary tasks of assisting with repairs, monitor the workers' activities. The rebels are notorious for sabotaging or seizing our ships while they're undergoing repairs."

"Sir, isn't that demand excessive?" Pellaeon questioned. "Crews have never participated in ship repairs at the shipyards. It's against naval tradition and established procedures…"

"You don't seem to grasp the situation, Captain," I sighed. "Traditions and regulations are beneficial only when they aren't detrimental. Waiting two to four weeks for our fleet's ships to become operational isn't part of my plan. We have other strategic objectives. Therefore, the crews will be involved in the restoration work."

"I understand, sir," Pellaeon said, though it was evident from his expression that he didn't fully agree with my decision. However, he wouldn't voice his objections.

"Good," I acknowledged, checking the chronometer once more. "I won't keep you any longer on this matter, Captain."

One thing about Pellaeon—he's far from foolish, and he was fully aware that the upcoming conversation with the Moff and the commander of our new Victory-class Star Destroyer would occur without his presence.

As I watched the Chimera's commander leave the compartment, I glanced at the chronometer again. There wasn't much time left before my meeting with the Moff, but enough to reflect on today's events.

And to organize the 'crutches' of the conversations I would soon have in my mind.

The longer I serve as a Grand Admiral, the more I discover—things that are both new and intriguing.

Life certainly didn't prepare me for this.