Chapter 15 — Simple Diligence

Another sacrifice of sleep for you. Enjoy :)

Nine years, five months and ten days after the Battle of Yavin...

Or forty-fourth year, five months and ten days after the Great ReSynchronization.

To say that Lando Calrissian's Nomad City was impressive would be an understatement.

The hull of a huge heavy cruiser of the Dreadnought type, which at one time was mass-produced by the shipbuilding company Rendili Shipyards, formed the basis of this self-propelled enterprise. Numerous alterations and modifications practically did not remind of the previous status of this ship. And according to Lando himself, the starship could no longer be used for its intended purpose —the engines (those that survived) were seized and sold on the market, numerous systems intended for combat had long been repurposed. This self-propelled giant doesn't even have guns anymore. And its only defense is the few fighters parked in the bowels of the ship. A hangar on such six-hundred-meter cruisers was not provided by the manufacturer, but Lando and his craftsmen managed to achieve the desired result.

Although, admittedly, a big part of Nomad's defense is the terrible astronomical conditions in which he had to work. Increased stellar radiation, the planet's remoteness from the main hyperspace routes, unbearable heat on the sunny side of Nklonn. The only thing that saved the "Nomad" from the last one was the walking supports of forty units of horribly mangled and repurposed imperial walkers. According to Calrissian himself, some of this equipment was bought from scrap metal dumps, stolen, won at cards, or he got it in a completely illegal way.

However, what cannot be taken away from us is that the enterprise is truly excellent. Mr. Calrissian has an eye for profitable projects. And he did not hide his entrepreneurial streak. If earlier he dabbled in semi-legal schemes, then at the moment... The former general of the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic sought to make a living exclusively through legal money-making schemes. Or, at least, he tried not to advertise his «shady dealings» in front of his young employees.

— And you know,— a smile began to appear on Calrissian's dark face, —I have never regretted hiring you, Rederick. You make an excellent administrator!

Lando Calrissian.

The young administrator only smiled in response to the praise from his superiors.

—Just think about it! — Calrissian continued to assert enthusiastically. — Persuade me to spend a million credits on the purchase of a new batch of "miners"! And on the very first day, these thirty new drills extracted metal worth a third of its value! Now all eighty-one of my beauties will unload, undergo preventive maintenance and return to work in a couple of hours! Oh, Rederick, you really are worth the money! To increase productivity, you need to have a talent for administrative work!

—This is not my great merit,— Rederick said modestly. —I just noticed that with more plasma drills we can extract more metal. You don't need to be an economics genius to understand the benefits of such a move. If you weren't so tight-fisted, you could have built a couple more «Nomads» long ago. I looked at the diagrams of this enterprise —it doesn't seem to be that complicated technically...

—Okay, boy,— Calrissian playfully shook his finger at him. — firstly, this is not «tight-fisted» but «reasonable financial policy». Secondly, in this huge galaxy, even with a supernova explosion, there are not very many half-broken ships and imperial walkers at an affordable price. But you're right about one thing a couple of new «Nomads» could significantly increase my income. I'll have to think about this.

—You know, I never cease to admire your ingenuity,— Rederick said as they approached the Nomad's control point. — Such an ambitious project... A walking mining platform! Yes, this is a miracle! Just imagine how you can turn around if you spend your money on the development of this project!

—Boy,— Lando grinned, being the first to enter the ship's control room. — This "Nomad" cost me almost a hundred million credits! Yes, for that kind of money I could buy myself some kind of star destroyer from the New Republic.

— Are there a few for sale? Rederick smiled, making it clear that he was just joking. Lando gave him a slightly wary look and smiled, appreciating the humor.

—No, of course,— he laughed quietly. —Even those that are hanging like dead weight at the Kharm shipyards will never go on sale. The young government does not really need free star destroyers cutting through the galaxy. I admit, if I had known that there was someone in the vicinity who had a Star Destroyer at hand, I would never have decided on such a project. But I conceived it back when I owned Cloud City on Bespin! Eh, that was the time... If it weren't for Hutted Vader and his Empire —how good it would have been to live in the galaxy for the last thirty years!

—Sir,— one of the central control room operators approached them. In total, three of them worked here —on a regular shift. When particularly complex cross-country excavations began, the number of personnel increased proportionally. — The shieldship database does not respond to our requests.

—Is that so? Lando frowned. — Maybe the transmitter is acting up?

—No, sir, he's fine,— the operator said. —Checked it twice.

—Okay,— Calrissian scratched behind his ear. —Probably the problems are on their side. However, the ships are old, anything could happen. Moreover, tomorrow there will be buyers for metals, perhaps a preventative measure... Well, let's not guess what's there and how. We have a suitable shuttle —we will send it to the base for inspection. If again someone breaks the equipment with their crooked hands, they will work for me for a month for free!

— Actually, the shuttle is under repair,— the operator said, glancing at Rederick.

—I don't understand,— Lando looked at his administrator. —What happened to my rarity? It just came out of renovation! Twenty thousand credits, by the way, were given to make this bird fly!

—Engine desynchronization,— Rederick explained. — One of the repairmen left a calibration key under the right engine cover. During a test run, the winding shorted and now the motors are running unevenly. I ordered the repairs to be carried out —it will take several days. But it is better than flying in a circle due to the fact that one of the two engines provides more thrust than the second.

—Yes, yes,— Lando nodded. as a last resort, we have my "Lady Luck". It will be necessary, I will personally fly on my ship to the shieldshipe base and pour the hot ones into the right people. Oh yes,— the entrepreneur slapped his forehead with his palm, —we don't have shieldshipes at hand. And we cannot call them... And without them, my baby will simply roast in the rays of a star. No, just imagine what kind of disorganization!? Rederick, where are you looking?

—With all due respect, sir,— the administrator smiled guiltily, —I only have "Nomad" at my disposal. My competence does not extend to the shieldship base.

—Exactly,— Calrissian frowned displeasedly. He was silent for a few moments, after which his gaze brightened. —Found! We will have an shieldship!

—Sir? —Rederick was wary. —Did you take my advice and buy another ship?

—No! Calrissian protested. —I was informed five hours ago from the shieldshipe base that one... an old friend of mine had arrived on his ship. And since he had problems with the hyperdrive, he had to fly for all nineteen hours on marching gear. That is, in,— Calrissian looked at the chronometer, —in fourteen hours they will be here. However, Luke is an understanding guy... —Lando thought about it. —Yes, I think he won't mind too much if I ask their shieldship to return to the base and contact us from there. So at least we'll know what's going on there.

— Would it be convenient to interfere in the client's plans like this? Rederick noted diplomatically.

—I beg you,— Calrissian waved him off, approaching the communications console. — Which Jedi is the client? No, of course, he's a good guy, but why does he need several tons of metal?

—Is a Jedi flying towards us? Rederick's eyebrows rose. — Something serious happened to us, and I don't know?

—It's okay,— Lando frowned, putting headphones with a microphone on his head. Oh, these ancient audio communication systems... —Well, except for the loss of communication with the shieldshipe base. No, Luke is flying on personal business. So, give me a connection with the shieldship... four, it seems... Yes, with the fourth!

Rederick stood in the same place as before, but his hand slid into the pockets of his vest. The nail got caught on the thread of the secret pocket...

— shieldship-four? — Hearing the pilot's voice, Calrissiaan clarified. —Great! — the owner of the "Nomad" was clearly glad that the transmitter contacted the ship. Even his voice became cheerful. —Lando speaking. Here...

He couldn't finish speaking because he jumped away from the panel as if stung, tearing off the headphones from his head. The eerie, ear-piercing sounds of screeching echoed through the central post, as if someone was scratching the transparisteel with metal. Horrible instrumental accompaniment. Even Redenik had a headache.

—What it is? —He asked, wincing, looking at Lando. He, in one motion, approached the communication console and turned off the sound.

—Electronic interference,— he said, becoming more serious. —there may be a flare on a star, this has already happened...

—No, sir,— the operator denied his assumption, looking up from the instruments. —The drawing is not suitable. Too correct, not chaotic...

—Someone is jamming our communication channels... Calrissian stated gloomily.

—Who? —Rederick showed surprise on his face. and, most importantly, why?!

—I wish I knew,— Lando complained. —This is what pirates in the Mid Rim usually do before an attack or...

He stopped mid-sentence. Throwing a desperate look at Rederick, he grimaced as if something very, very sour had entered his mouth.

—Or who? —the administrator clarified. Calrissian was about to open his mouth to answer, but one of the operators interrupted him.

—Sir, our shieldship has appeared from hyperspace!

—This is what I understand—Jedi efficiency,— Calrissian smiled, clapping his hands. —I always said that Luke is a wonderful guy! As soon as I realized that we had problems, I immediately decided not to mess around with the hyperdrive anymore, transferred the access codes to the —four— and immediately came to visit us...

—Sir,— the third operator called out to him quietly. — This is not the fourth shieldship, but the ninth.

—He should be at the base,— Lando frowned, approaching the orbital scanner console. —Did the fools really decide to fly in and tell them what happened... Oh, Hutt, are you kidding me?!

—What's happening?! —Rederick, putting his hands in his pockets, walked up to the console, next to which the third operator sat and bit Calrissian's lips.

— An Imperial Star Destroyer has come to visit,— said the latter. —They are releasing fighters and landing ships... Hutt, what a precise jump! Just a minute outside the planetary shadow and now their TIE fighters are already bearing down on us! And we sit here, without communication, and wonder who is jamming us! Yes, in two minutes they will already be hammering into our front door!

—We urgently need to sound the alarm! —suggested the third operator, reaching out to the red button. But I didn't have time.

A scarlet lightning bolt that burst from the right pocket of Rederick's vest hit the man right in the back of the head, and he fell from his chair straight onto the deck. The second operator, who darted to the side, became the victim of a blaster bolt from his right pocket. The Imperial naval intelligence agent shot the third one, having already taken the first blaster from his left pocket.

—What's happening?! Lando Calrissian asked angrily, furrowing his eyebrows and looking at his administrator.

—Nothing to worry about, Mister Calrissian,— Rederick said evenly, taking aim at both blasters. — Move away from the panel and don't stop the Empire from doing its job. I promise, if there is no resistance to us, you will all survive.

— And if not? — Lando ground his teeth. Surely he was thinking that for the second time the Empire was depriving him of his own brainchild. And in such an unceremonious way!

—Then the TIE pilots will blow up the supports of the Nomad and in half a day the enterprise will be fried by stellar radiation, as the Nkllon terminator line will reach you,— Rederick answered simply. —But we will still get what we want. Much earlier.

—I don't doubt it,— Calrissian snorted. —Don't touch my workers! I'll do whatever it takes. But you,— he pointed an accusing finger at the scout, —don't even hope to get paid for this week!

— Another mistake,— Rederick smiled. — I received my three thousand credits at the cash desk two hours ago.

It looks like Calrissian's tooth enamel has fallen off...

***

—Grand Admiral, sir,— seeing the Supreme Commander on the threshold of the airlock of an Imperial Star Destroyer that had just completed repairs seemed like something... Completely unusual for the Imperial Navy. Therefore, you can understand the widened eyes of the ship commander without guessing. —I am pleased to welcome you aboard the Stormhawk, sir!

— At ease, captain,— I said.

Captain Morgoth Astorias was never a timid man. Despite the common saying in the Imperial armed forces: «The Stormtrooper Corps takes the strong but stupid, and the navy takes the puny and brave» the commander of the Imperial-1-class Star Destroyer was not distinguished by poor physical characteristics.

He is middle aged, average height, average build. Moderately muscular, moderately proactive. They call them the ideal performer. Despite the fact that idiots are not allowed on the bridge of a Star Destroyer. Usually.

However, Captain Astorias is a man of exceptional intelligence. Its crew is one of the most competent and united. The results of their shooting and maneuvers cause only envy and gnashing of teeth among Captain Pellaeon and the entire crew of the Chimera.

And with all this, the commander of the Stormhawk is not a proud man or an empty talker. He considers himself above such human weaknesses and does not consider it necessary to pay any attention to envious people.

—I was informed that your crew is eager to fight, captain,— I slowly walked along the corridor. Rukh habitually moved behind, but in such a way as to be able to attack at any moment at the slightest threat.

The commander of the ISD-1 "Stormhawk" Captain Morgoth Astorias.

—That's true, sir,— the star destroyer commander answered quietly but clearly, adjusting to my step. —Our damage is minor. We have already compensated for the loss in the air wing. We train young pilots who have filled vacant positions in squadrons.

—This makes me happy,— I thought.

No, in the Imperial Navy there was such a practice as exercises and crew training. But after the Battle of Endor, for some reason they forgot about it. Of course, in that period of time there was something to do —civil strife and so on. But Astorias, as an adherent of the «old school» of personnel training, did not retreat from the skills and provisions drilled into his head. Absolutely rightly and objectively believing —since these methods worked for him and from a junior officer they blinded the commander of one of the most formidable ships of the Imperial Navy —then why are these methods of military pedagogy bad in relation to his subordinates?

— How long will it take to complete the training program? —I asked.

—By the end of tomorrow, we will know which of the potential recruits is fit to serve on board the Stormhawk,— the captain answered me laconically.

News that Grand Admiral Thrawn has settled on Tangrene, turning the former planet of the Ubiqtorate into his own base, is slowly but surely spreading across Imperial Space. On the one hand, there is nothing wrong with this. On the imperial worlds, those who need it know about my existence—it's not really hidden. As such, the phenomenon of betrayal or trading of information is absent in the Imperial Remnants —everyone who wanted it has long since defected to the side of the New Republic or to the warlords who hid in the Deep Core. So this information will not leak «outside». At least that soon. Considering that by the time I appeared on Myrkr in the events known to me, Talon Karrde was already well aware that the Empire had a Grand Admiral and even my name, there are still certain problems with secrecy. As I understand it, Karrde's contacts are quite high in the hierarchy of the Imperial Remnants, because such information —who the commander is and where he is based —is simply not conveyed to ordinary military personnel, so as not to load their heads with unnecessary data. Inadvertently, something that is actually more important may «fall out» of the official way of thinking. However, given the events planned and further, the secret of my identity will not remain so for long. Well, it's not critical for now. Of those with whom Thrawn served side by side in the past, most are either dead or in the Empire of the Hand. So the New Republic will not receive information from them at all. Of course, there was still Mara Jade. And a lot will depend on tomorrow's operation on Pantalomina at least the answer to the question: «Is she with us or is she pretending?»

On the other hand, rumors about my base also have a positive response among the Imperials. And this cannot but rejoice. At least because «volunteers» appeared at my disposal.

In general, any military man who is able to formulate his request in the form of a standard report can request a transfer from a «garrison» unit to a «combat» one. Fortunately for everyone, illiterates were not accepted into the imperial armed forces. Well, or at least they didn't live to see graduation.

A thin stream of volunteers reached Tangrene. One by one, two by two, or even whole groups, «volunteers» began to arrive at Tangrene. Those who wanted to serve under my command. It is clear that these are not command staff —ordinary soldiers, pilots, technicians. The stormtroopers were never given the right to such an initiative —in the imperial eyes, a fighter in snow-white armor does not have his own voice and opinion. They beat this out of them at Carida and other imperial academies. So they had to be content with only the less «trained» part of the imperial army and navy.

But at least it's something.

Reluctantly, purchased small aircraft from Prince Admiral Krennel. Two full air wings —twelve squadrons. Of which half are TIE fighters, another four are interceptors and the last two are bombers. Now the vehicles were mostly on the surface of Tangrene, while some of them had already been distributed among the Star Destroyers —it was not yet possible to staff the remaining ships. Not only will they be under repair for an indefinite period of time, but also compiling the appropriate documentation for them is a hassle. Therefore, to replace the damaged ships, they were sent to the surface of the planet. As soon as a «free» pilot appeared among the new arrivals, after testing his skills on the simulator, he entered service on one of the destroyers. First of all, those ships with the least damage were equipped with pilots and other specialists therefore, they would be the fastest to enter service.

Yes, of course, there are Spaarti cloning cylinders. And the first «batch» of clones is already «ready». Empirically, it has been established that it does not take a year to produce one clone using this technology. The placement of the Ysalamiri near the cloning installations completely cut them off from the Force, as a result of which... the clones matured at a mind-blowing speed that literally made one shiver.

Fourteen days from the moment the genetic material is placed in the incubators until the appearance of a fully viable clone, which contains all the knowledge of the genetic donor. Very convenient and simple.

However, I was still concerned that the side effects indicated in Palpatine's notes might occur. «Clonic Madness» is a side effect of rapidly growing clones. There is no need to guess for a long time what this is —on my flagship there is a whole Dark Jedi obtained in a similar way. However, if I could vouch for his body that this is an exact copy of C'baoth (at least that's what he looked like in archival voice-overs found on the HoloNet), then here is his mind and memories... There is a slight suspicion that all of his skills are the fruit of a program planted by Palpatine in the clone's mind, similar to the one we use to «train clones». And therefore, it is extremely unlikely that a clone is able to fully teach his followers anything. The great is built from the small, which leads to the idea that the Jedi clone is invested with knowledge without everyday experience and his own will, thoughts, and feelings. The closest comparison to what C'baoth calls «training» is giving a child a firearm. It won't be long before the human larva looks into the barrel and pulls the trigger at the same time. Extrapolating the expected consequences to the realities of this galaxy, it is safe to say that clone-trained Force-sensitive subjects will become a very big problem.

That is why the first batch of clones, despite their «readiness» will be at the disposal of the forces subordinate to me only after completion of medical examinations in Mount Tantiss. Changes in the synaptic connections of the brain, characteristic of «clonic madness» are perfectly monitored by the simplest medical devices. It's like looking at a bad copy of a text document: somewhere the lines have floated, somewhere there are excessive toner blots.

Thus, the following is obtained: despite the fact that there are still clones, and the second batch is already being «prepared» the week-long course of medical examination has not yet been completed. So the first batch of clone technicians will arrive only in a few days on the "Star Galleon". And these are techniques. Which will be used to staff new ships and increase personnel at ground bases and shipyards. The stronger the rear, the easier it is to fight. Since the prospect of fighting alone against the entire New Republic is a reality, and a harsh one at that, I need a rear that is not just strong, but indestructible.

And I really hope that today's action on Nklon will give us a little respite in terms of funds and a reserve of resources to speed up repairs. And also, the "miners" will arrive, around which the success of the mission at the Sluis Van shipyard is built.

The purchase of six squadrons of TIE fighters (with a staff strength of twelve aircraft each) took five million and forty thousand credits from a meager budget.

Forty-eight TIE interceptors cost four million three hundred and twenty thousand. Two squadrons of bombers emptied my "pocket" of two million six hundred and forty thousand.

Total —twelve million credits of total expenses. And of all this multitude of cars, there is nothing left on the —ground—. One more full-scale battle and we will have to purchase fighters again. Despite all this, there has not even been talk about staffing the air wing of escort frigates and other ships.

We urgently need money. Much money. The trophies barely made it onto the black market and they will not bring a quick replenishment of funds. So far these are just tears a thin stream that fills a large pool, in which the manager periodically opens the drain valve to full.

To continue active operations, capital is needed.

And as paradoxical as it may sound, it is for this reason that I am now on board the Stormhawk.

From communication with the Imperial Ruling Council, the conclusion was simple: you need to get out yourself. There's nothing you can do with them—fight yourself with what you've been given. And don't ask questions.

The original Thrawn successfully dealt with this due to his genius and creative rethinking of the psychology of sentient beings. No matter how much I tried to look at the holograms, I saw in front of me only objects of art —somewhere beautiful, somewhere ugly, somewhere simply rude or, on the contrary, immensely beautiful. But I couldn't find a pattern, no matter how I laid out patterns and images, the sHapes of objects and other characteristics in my head.

The only thing I can do at the moment is to act logically. In conditions where the Imperial Remnants do not really want to help, leaving things to chance, there is only one option left —to seek funding for their projects on their own.

No matter how much I would like it, trading in seized property will not cover even a small part of the planned expenses. Additional sources of financing are needed. I really hope that I can get them during a short voyage.

—You are a native of the planet Nez Peron, captain,— I said, addressing the commander of the Stormhawk.

—Yes, sir,— he replied.

Nez Peron is the capital of the D'Astan sector of the galaxy.

Sector D'Astan.

This is the part of the galaxy adjacent to Morshdine. It's unlikely that I would have even remembered it or paid any attention to it if it weren't for the conspicuous name of the planet that is part of this sector.

Serenno. Homeland of Count Dooku, former Jedi and former student of Darth Sidious. The leader of the Confederacy of Independent Worlds died in orbit of Coruscant. An aristocrat who owns a huge fortune.

And he is not the only one in the D'Astan sector.

—Tell me about your homeland, captain,— I suggested. Catching Astroin's surprised gaze, he simply ignored it.

—The planet Nez Peron is an agricultural world that provides a wide range of products to a huge number of star systems both within the sector and beyond,— said the captain. Well-known information available on any reference network.

—Order a course for the capital of the D'Astan sector, Captain Astorian,— I ordered.

—Yes, sir,— the officer responded without delay or unnecessary questions, making the appropriate instructions on the comlink. — May I offer my cabin at your service?

—That's not necessary,— I said. — The flight will last only a few hours. Give me and my bodyguard an empty compartment and that will be enough.

— As you wish, Grand Admiral,— the commander of the Stormhawk saluted. — The wardroom for the senior officers of the Star Destroyer is at your disposal.

—Thank you,— having reached the fork, Rukh and I, without saying goodbye to the captain, headed towards the room indicated to us, while a native of the planet Nez Peron walked in the opposite direction to the turbolift leading to the bridge of the starship.

No questions, no suspicious looks or anything like that. Simple and routine execution of orders.

The ideal performer.

Although, on the other hand, Astorian could have known that the Chimera was delayed in returning to service. The chief engineer of the shipyards, Neil Reyes, after a prolonged silence and work on the drawings, nevertheless issued a verdict —it is possible to install the deflector generator from the New Republic frigate MC30c on a Star Destroyer. But it will take a day to embroider the plating armor plates, install additional equipment, configure and debug all systems before the ship goes into operation with the modifications required. Yes, I do not have super-destroyers at my disposal, but this does not mean that I will resign myself to the fate of fighting on what the gloomy imperial genius provides. No, if there is an opportunity to improve the starships under my command, albeit in such an artisanal way, such projects will be implemented.

The empire fought with quantity, the rebels with quality.

In the events known to me, the Galactic Empire lost the war for control of the galaxy to the rebels. The New Republic also ultimately lost. But not the Empire I know. And not in the coming years.

Therefore, since there is such an opportunity, then why not adopt a good tactical technique from the enemy? It will be interesting to watch how the imperial quality will fight against the new republican one.

And as soon as I have enough starships, personnel and resources, then we will see whether my opponents are capable of fighting for real. On all fronts...

Well, in the meantime, judging by the shaking of the deck, the Stormhawk has begun to move and is preparing for a hyperjump. Very soon there will be a meeting with the ruler of the neighboring sector. And I'll have to be incredibly eloquent to convince Baron D'ast to finance my campaign against the rebel scum.

***

When the last fires were put out, the holes were sealed, and the wounded were taken to the infirmary, Lando didn't know what to think: whether to cry or laugh.

Either be proud of your people, who, without any command from above, fought back against the imperial stormtroopers, or cry because it's all over.

Again.

First he lost his business on Bespin, now Nklonn. The empire took away from him time after time everything that he had built with superhuman efforts, pouring its knowledge and funds into enterprises, maneuvering on the brink of success and failure. Just what are the bribes he handed out to officials of the New Republic worth?! And that's almost thirty million credits!

And now the moment has come when "Nomad" is dead. Without movement motivators, they will not have time to get further to the dark side of the planet and the terminator will catch up with them. Everything is as that traitor Rederick predicted! Hutt! The bastard even managed to receive a salary for the week he spent to properly study the "Nomad" and plan the attack.

Now Lando had no doubt —the shieldshipe base was out of action. It's not for nothing that they are silent, it's clear as day. And the shuttle, capable of going for inspection, was also disabled for a reason. All these Hutt imperial spies, damn them! But how sweetly laid... A million investments and thirty new miners! Look, our metal warehouses are already overflowing...

And now that's it.

"Nomad" may move, but with difficulty. There's no way they can get out, they can't escape.

The long-distance communication antenna has been destroyed and calling for help will not be possible. Even if clients arrive in a few days, they will not get to Nkllonwithout shieldshipes. And those, apparently, were destroyed...

And the reserves of the mined metal were also appropriated by the Empire. Like all the accumulated money! No, he, of course, had some left in dummy bank accounts, but Calrissian had no doubt that the Imperials, who not only robbed them, but also cleaned out all the information databases, would definitely get to his emergency reserves. And there was a good amount of fifty million accumulated there! Enough to start a new business!

Or buy himself a new yacht... It's difficult to say what he missed more —the lost business again or the loss of "Lady Luck". The Imperials took her with them too!

Well, you can, of course, shake off the old days and collect debts from long-time friends and partners... You'll get a couple of hundred thousand. You can think about where to put them, but...

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a beep from the intercom panel.

—Lando is listening,— he said quietly.

—Sir, there is good news and there is bad,— came the melancholy voice of the second administrator, Lobot. The cyborg with whom he went through so much... — From which to start?

Lobot.

—Surprise me,— this is laughter through tears, but how else can you maintain your sanity in this crazy world?!

—In an hour, the motivators will fail,— said the cyborg. and we will stop moving.

—We can replace it,— Lando suggested. —In the warehouse...

He interrupted himself, biting his lower lip painfully. What's left in the warehouse? Dust and traces of gunfire? The Imperials took everything from them —even the two Z-95 Headhunter starfighters he had purchased a month ago. Yes, the antiquity of the Clone Wars, but the cars are still running, and they «bite» painfully. They «bit» Lando mentally corrected himself.

Starfighter Z-95 «Headhunter».

—Yes, sir,— Lobot answered calmly. —In warehouses, even a rancor would hang himself out of boredom.

-Have you learned to joke? — Lando was surprised.

—I'm trying to stop you from hanging your hands,— the cyborg answered. —Now the bad news.

—Wait a minute,— Calrissian perked up. —The fact that we are without a move and will be fried like meat on a grill —was that «good news»?

—Yes, sir,— the cyborg answered without a hint of humor.

Calrissian rubbed his temples hard. What else happened there?!

—Speak already,— he said wearily.

—The enemy took all our plasma drills,— Lobot answered.

Hutt! Hutt! And once again the Hutt!

He thought that it would be possible to improve the situation by selling off the remaining property, but now...

—So, wait,— the man rubbed his forehead. —We had fifty-one working for us, and the same number were in non-working warehouses as a source of spare parts...

and you purchased thirty units at the insistence of Administrator Rederick,— Lobot noted. — Let me remind you that I was against spending money on working copies, offering to repair those that we already had.

—Yes, yes, yes,— Calrissian grimaced. —But you had to invest so much in them... It's easier to buy new ones these ones don't hold the atmosphere, and the engines are crap... they were... Stop. Don't say that the Imperials took our non-working machines too!

—They took everything,— Lobot answered laconically. —Even personal weapons of the security service, money and valuables of crew members, our arsenal, medicines and parts for our fighters. Although, who needs this old stuff...

—Stop pissing me off already,— Lando grimaced. —We need to think about how to get out of this shit...

—I have good news,— Lobot said unexpectedly. «What are you talking about?» Calrissian almost said, but bit his tongue just in time.

—How good? —in fact, he did not count on anything positive.

—Our shieldship-four is in orbit,— Lobot said. —We can use the shuttle to transport the wounded onto it and...

—Just wait! — Lando perked up. —The fourth shieldship! Skywalker is there!

—No, sir,— Lobot replied. — The Jedi Knight is not there...

What kind of day is this?!

—Well, where is this Jedi…— Calrissian foamed, turning to face the exit, hearing a delicate cough behind him. —Oh, Luke!

—Hello, Lando,— the young Jedi smiled modestly. —I'm sorry I didn't come to your aid. The flight was difficult to your shildships base, and I entered a meditation trance to rest... But for some reason the pilot did not inform me that the connection with you had been lost...

At first, Lando wanted to hug Skywalker. Then he changed his intentions to the desire to strangle the shieldship pilot. And then I thought and decided that nothing would be done...

—There's not much you could have done, Luke,— he waved his hand tiredly, sitting down in a chair next to some kind of remote control. a whole Star Destroyer has been here. They were ripped off like crazy... More than two thousand were killed, seven hundred reasonable ones were wounded...

—This is very sad, Lando,— Luke said, a look of regret appeared on his face. —I didn't have time... Sorry.

—Don't blame yourself,— Calrissian smiled bitterly. — One against several squadrons of TIE fighters and TIE interceptors... You, of course, are a fighting guy, but not that much.

—Yes, I screwed up big time,— Luke concluded. again.

— Again? —Lando asked.

—Don't worry about it,— advised the young Jedi. —Better tell me, what did the Imperials want here?

—Everything that isn't welded to the decks,— Calrissian sighed. — So I understand that the Imperials destroyed the second shieldship before the jump?

—Yes,— Skywalker said. —There's just scrap metal all over the orbit.

—I think our WIG base is in the same condition,— Lando concluded. — Tell me that your X-wing has long-distance communication.

—Yes, of course it works,— Skywalker nodded. —But due to Nklonn's radiation, the connection is unlikely to be good, but...

—I don't care! Lando waved his hand. —We need to contact the nearest New Republic base! If they send us at least an assault frigate, or even better a couple, then we will be able to take the Nomad off the planet under the cover of the last shieldship! Let's drop it somewhere near the shieldshipe base, and then repair it!

T-65 X-wing star fighter.

The plan even in words seemed crazy. There are no guarantees that even if the ships arrive, even if they are able to tear the Nomad away from the surface of Nklonn, even if it is dragged to a safe place... And hundreds of other «ifs».

Judging by Skywalker's look, he was thinking the same thing.

— Are you sure that the Nomad cannot be made to move on its own? —he clarified, clearly not eager to get involved with the new republican bureaucratic machine. Lando became sad... Even if the Jedi gives up...

—No,— he sighed. —We'll be fried before we can go to the other end of the galaxy, buy a new modified motivator and deliver it here. And we can't even dig below the surface! The Imperials stole all my plasma drills!

—Eh... why do they need them? — Skywalker was surprised.

—How do I know? Calrissian flushed. Having asked his friend for forgiveness, he sighed bitterly:

all these things can do is melt rock and metal in front of them, flying to the target using radio control. Probably the Empire decided to organize its own mining enterprise. Well, or they are simply not the most decent people in the galaxy and decided to annoy me a second time.

—Or there's something more behind these,— Luke said thoughtfully. Suddenly, as if having come to his senses, the Jedi Knight asked:

—They didn't come just for your plasma drills, did they?

—Yes, I'm more than sure that they came for the metal and my credits! Lando snorted. —I have warehouses full of ore and a vault filled to the brim with money... Nineteen million credits... Equipment, droids, weapons, medical supplies, fighters...

— What metal did we mine here? —Skywalker became interested with his characteristic simplicity.

—Yes, almost everything that is in the periodic table of the galaxy,— Lando sighed heavily. —Khfredium, kammris, dolomite —everything that was in the warehouses. I'm sure that if they have some durasteel, they can build themselves a couple of cruisers. Or maybe enough for a Star Destroyer...

— How much metal did you have? — Skywalker was surprised.

—Production in six months and a little more,— Lando sighed. at market prices a little over twenty million.

—I didn't know your business was so profitable,— Luke admitted.

—Of course,— Lando sighed. —If the New Republic had more money, they would have brought their fleet into proper sHapes long ago. And so, they will buy a small batch once a year and that's it. They look with pitiful eyes, appeal to conscience and patriotism...

—Then, I think, it won't be a big problem to negotiate with Coruscant so that they send someone, a complex from the planet, and put it back into operation,— Luke said confidently. —Especially after what happened in the Dafilvean sector...

— And what's in there? — Lando asked.

—The Empire playfully defeated our sectoral fleet,— Luke explained, watching as the entrepreneur's eyebrows climbed onto his forehead. —I found out when I was flying to you from Dagobah. Leia, Han and Rogue Squadron are already there, trying to straighten out the situation.

—I hope it was better there than mine,— Calrissian winced.

—I wouldn't say,— Luke shuddered. — They destroyed the sectoral fleet base, destroyed the medical base... Complete destruction.

—It's strange that they didn't take control of the sector,— Lando said. — By the way, what were you doing on Dagobah?

—Oh, right,— Luke shook his head and took a small flattened cylinder out of his pocket. —I found it where... The Jedi hesitated. —It doesn't matter, in general. R2-D2 said that he saw the same toy in Cloud City on Bespin...

Lando, frowning, took the cylinder in his hand and meticulously examined it.

an interesting thing,— he said after a few seconds. —They don't make them like that anymore. If you hadn't reminded me about Cloud City, I wouldn't have understood what it was at all an unfamiliar design.

— And what is this? —Skywalker asked curiously. —Data store?

—No, my friend,— Calrissian sighed. —No, of course there is some information in it, but strictly official information. This is a decoy. It's amazing that it still works. It looks like it was assembled before the Clone Wars —the thing is clearly old.

—Decoy? —Luke asked. —What it is? (No other way to translate decoy)

—We use approximately the same technology to control the miners,— Calrissian explained. —The device operates on a dedicated frequency —within the planet, I think. Works like a ship's beacon —but much more advanced and complex technology. Just imagine,— Lando looked at his comrade. —You have a ship. And in order not to have a crew on it, you invest in automation. You install advanced computers or buy a lot of droids. And you put equipment like this on it. And when you need a ship, say, you find yourself on the other side of the planet and don't want to waste time returning to the spaceport, then you press the button,— Lando pointed at a row of triangular keys on a flattened cylinder, and the starship flies straight to you.

— And it won't break? — Skywalker doubted.

Eh, holy simplicity... After all, they say that you can leave Tatooine yourself, but Tatooine will never leave you.

— Some ships could not only avoid obstacles and choose the most optimal course, but also fight if they had guns on board. a useful thing, in general,— said Lando. —They don't make things like this anymore—it's insanely expensive. I had this fully automated yacht in Cloud City, but the Imperials requisitioned it. And they probably knocked out the lighthouse, since the ship did not respond to the decoy call and had to escape on the Falcon.

— Isn't Lady Luck equipped with such a beacon? —Luke clarified.

—No,— Lando sighed sadly. —Otherwise I would have tried to track the Imperials and directed the New Republic fleet at them.

—You said that your "miners" work on the same principle,— the young Jedi reminded.

—Well, almost,— Lando admitted. actually, they are manually controlled, you can place a small team inside. But in case of problems, you can use the control panel and control the —digger—. Within reason, of course. She won't jump into hyperspace, of course, but she can definitely move back and forth.

—So can he track the Imperials through the "miners"? — the Jedi perked up.

Lando looked at him condescendingly. Tatooine, what else can you say.

—If they are not idiots, and most likely they are, then they simply turned off the beacons. —I doubt we have a transmitter powerful enough to send a signal and wait for a response across the galaxy,— he said. —I told you, the decoy works within the planet, nothing more. No, you can, of course, use more powerful communication equipment, like a ship's repeater —then you can operate in orbit, but this is all theoretical. In practice, if anyone has done such things, I don't know. Well, maybe —Fleet of Katan—.

-Will you tell me about it? —Luke asked. —I heard that it was a fleet of fully automated ships...

—Sort of,— Lando nodded. Realizing that they had talked for a long time, the former smuggler signaled to Skywalker to wait and ordered Lobot to organize the transfer of the wounded to the shieldship. There's not a lot of space there, but how much there is...

—The Katana fleet is a collection of two hundred Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers produced at the Rendili shipyards,— he explained. —I spent a lot of time and money to find them. The ships may be over a hundred years old or so, but they can give a beating, especially if they act in groups. The ships there are the same as the one from which the "Nomad" is made. Six hundred meters in length, good armor, a second or fourth class hyperdrive, artillery of ten turbolaser batteries, twenty quad laser cannons, ten heavy laser cannons, and ion cannons —to be honest, I don't remember their number. There is no aviation, only one connecting port. Now a considerable number of these freaks are flying around the galaxy, since their crew must be simply huge —more than sixteen thousand intelligent ones. But the starships of the Katana fleet had enormous automation and only required two thousand crew members. And besides, the flagship could tell the ships of the fleet how to move, how to shoot —that is, it will be enough for you to have only two thousand crew members on board the Katana itself and that's it —you can steer the entire fleet. Well, of course, if you are not afraid that someone will board your heavy cruisers and, with manual control, take them away on the quiet.

—It's strange that such a fleet disappeared,— Luke noted.

—The crew of the flagship became infected with the swarm virus,— Lando explained. The Jedi shuddered. It seems even on Tatooine they have heard about this scourge. —I agree, it's a disgusting thing. It drives you crazy and your body eats itself. In a word, madness...

—So, no one knows where these spaceships are? —Luke was surprised. —They would be very useful to the New Republic in the fight against the Empire.

—If they knew, they would have showed up long ago,— Lando sighed, remembering how many millions he had sunk into the adventure of finding the «Katan Fleet» but there is exactly the same information about these ships as there is about the Sa Nalaor. Consider it a legend... Although, I won't be surprised that the bureaucrats of the Old Republic found this fleet long ago and sold it for scrap. Or he died during the Clone Wars —then there were such battles that our showdowns with the Imperials seemed like a game in a kindergarten. Consider that every day there was some kind of battle like the Battle of Endor...

Lando fell silent when he saw how sad the young Jedi looked. Calrissian mentally cursed. Few people were privy to this secret —that Darth Vader was the father of Luke and Leia. He himself was somehow calm about such information and so he blurted out...

—Sorry,— he said.

—Nothing,— Skywalker smiled tightly. —Just memories. It's a pity that you won't be able to use this decoy to find the ship it was tied to. I suspect that it may have belonged to a Dark Jedi from the planet Bpfassh who died on Dagobah. But maybe I'm just looking for the wrong thing.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, after which Luke stood up decisively.

—Thanks for the information, Lando,— he said. —I think I should go to the nearest New Republic base and ask for help for you. Since the Imperials jumped from the planetary shadow, why is my X-wing worse?

—I'll be incredibly grateful to you,— Lando walked up to the young Jedi and shook his hand with feeling.

For some time, Lando watched Skywalker leave, reflecting on the fact that the boy from Tatooine had previously been less focused and closed in on himself. Could it be his flight to Dagobah? As he said, a Dark Jedi was killed on that planet. But by whom? Wasn't that the weird old Jedi Leia was talking about? Allegedly, he trained Luke before he flew to Cloud City to save them all from Darth Vader.

Yes, the soul of a Jedi is darkness. If these were matters of the heart, Lando would be able to help him with advice. But when it came to the Force, Calrissian was a complete ignoramus. As is most of the galaxy.

***

The exit from hyperspace beckoned me with its unnaturally attractive beauty. There was something about the physical phenomenon of breaking the light barrier with such ease and routine, when in my homeland any physicist would give anything to look into a hyperdrive. And —under the hood— is a solar ionization reactor, which provides the star destroyer not just with energy for the jump, but also powers its systems with a fair surplus.

During the time that the Stormhawk spent in hyperspace, I had the opportunity to properly prepare for the summit.

Nez Peron is located in quadrant O-5 in the star system of the same name in the D'Astan sector. The latter is a striking example of how industrialists and the aristocracy can turn a piece of space into a very, very profitable business.

The sector is actually a small empire. Self-sufficient, possessing a huge merchant fleet, which received and still receives orders from the Imperial Remnants for the construction of freighters and bulk carriers —huge transport starships in the depths of which a star destroyer could easily be accommodated.

The sector is run by a noble family of aristocrats named D'asta. The family is headed by the Imperial Baron Ragez D'asta, who was once a member of the Imperial Ruling Council, but in recent years has retired from foreign policy affairs, shifting this burden to his own daughter.

Ragez D'asta is rich enough to maintain a fleet of warships. The largest private battle fleet in the galaxy. Constructed and competently organized. The Baron is an ardent supporter of imperial morals, but what is pleasing is that he is a moderate xenophobe. For him, there is no disdain for any race simply because of their skin color, hair, eyes, number of limbs, scales, tail or fur. If a reasonable person is useful, then he will work, even if he is a bothan, whose race does not have the best reputation in the galaxy.

At the moment, in addition to supplying food and transport ships, Baron Ragez D'asta continues to sympathize with Imperial Space despite the fact that the government, located on the planet Orinda, has been proving its insolvency and exorbitant thirst for power for more than one year. And yet, the Baron considers the Imperial Ruling Council to be the legitimate government. But he doesn't campaign or fight against other Imperial Remnants either. Actually, having at his disposal a force equal to the size of several sectoral fleets of the New Republic, the baron does not seek to provide his ships to any of the military leaders of the Empire, limiting himself strictly to business considerations. The imperials feared and valued him, which is why his daughter was given such a high position.

A reasonable question arises: why, given such military power, does he not try to recapture a couple of sectors from the New Republic? The answer is simple: the private fleet of the D'astana sector does not have a large number of large warships. Its forces are contained in numerous corvettes and frigates. In addition, in the same year that Palpatine and Vader died, one of the Imperial admirals enlisted the support of the Baron and received several cruisers from him to attack the Republic shipyards. Despite the victory of the imperials «in points», the baron's ships did not return to their places of deployment after being destroyed by the enemy. And this greatly damaged the authority of the aristocrat himself. There were rumors that it was because of this loss of part of the power that he left the Imperial Ruling Council. But something tells me that the reason for such a radical decision is not at all simple. Perhaps I will be able to solve this mystery in a personal meeting with the baron. And it's possible to conclude a full-fledged union.

Considering the baron's pro-imperial attitude, you can try to play out the scenario: I will beat the common enemy and you give me money!». Whether it will work out or not is difficult to say now. But without trying, we won't know.

Especially now, in light of the events of the successful attack on Nkllon and the rich booty obtained, there is no need to fear imminent ruin. Oh, if only Pellaeon knew what a storm of emotions reigned in my soul when he reported on the results of theJudicator's mission. But I had to remain impassive. Your role should be played in such a way that Stanislavsky changes his catchphrase.

The victory at Nklonne allowed me to change my rhetoric for the visit. If initially I planned to voice a request for funding (oh, how quickly arrogance flies away in times of need. Otherwise I believed: «I won't ask, they will offer everything, they will give everything!») on a mutually beneficial basis, hoping to intrigue the baron with contracts for the supply of food, Now, with the increase in working capital, it is possible to offer Ragez D'asta much more. As a businessman and politician, he must understand the benefits of contractual obligations with the Supreme Commander of the Empire. Indeed, in addition to contracts for the supply of food, with additional funds, I can offer him to sell several Corellian CR90 corvettes in service with his fleet. According to our chief engineer's recommendations, these were the starships most suited to be based on the struts in the Star Destroyer hangars. And not to mention the fact that the private fleet of the D'asta sector does not hesitate to use TIE series equipment and in significant quantities. Perhaps the sector has its own production line. And it will be cheaper to purchase equipment from the baron than from the prince-admiral.

But all these are just plans. Let's see how they come to life.

—We are greeted, Grand Admiral,— the commander of the Stormhawk told me.

— Answer them in the same way on my behalf,— I ordered. and inform the planet that I have a desire to meet with Baron Ragez D'asta.

—Yes, sir,— Captain Morgoth Astorias answered simply and laconically.

The ideal performer.