Chapter 19 — Risky Initiatives

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

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

«One hundred and seventy-four thousand design faults».

This was the nickname used by those who had the honor of serving on Imperial-class Star Destroyers. Well, or the misfortune of becoming part of the crew of this huge ship.

In any case, Booster Terrik was firmly convinced that the Errant Venture had many more malfunctions than a standard Star Destroyer in the service of the Empire or the New Republic.

And it's not even that most of the Errant Venture's standard weapons were missing as a given. These were the terms of the deal with the New Republic.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that instead of the required thirty-seven thousand intelligent people making up the ship's crew, there were only no more than five thousand on board.

Nuclear reactor, it's not even that the Imperial-class Star Destroyer of the second model, which Booster Terrik owned, was painted red (but there is still a lot of unpainted space on the armor for advertising of especially wealthy clients).

It's just that anyone who has ever been on board Terrik's ship and its military counterpart could feel the difference. If they were Imperials, they would certainly have problems with their hearts and brains. And the warriors of the New Republic were also unlikely to appreciate the "Errant Venture" without a nervous tic.

Because there is not a single Star Destroyer in the galaxy that has undergone such radical internal changes. And outside too.

Booster turned his ship into a real mobile lair, where each client, who was placed in high trust, could find everything he needed.

"Errant Venture" is a real shadow port. Entire decks were repurposed, remodeled so that instead of endless barracks and technical compartments there were spacious stores in which resourceful legal, semi-legal and downright illegal entrepreneurs could sell their goods to a few but well-off clients. And many of them sold exclusive products. For the sake of acquiring which, smugglers and other not the most honest intelligent people in the galaxy were ready to line up if only they were told the coordinates of the next stop of the red star destroyer.

Booster Terrik's Imperial II-class Star Destroyer (check comment)

"Errant Venture" (yes, I'm serious — it's painted red)

But today Booster had no time for philosophy. Today he fought an unequal battle with his most hated enemy. An enemy who appeared in his life as soon as the "Errant Venture" got to his hands. The only one in front of whose face Booster Terrik, the thunderstorm of the galaxy, was passing, a man who has authority even among the most inveterate scoundrels and scammers.

A powerful physique and a ferocious appearance that instilled fear in everyone — from thugs to his own son-in-law, a commanding hand from which even a Tatooine krayt dragon could hide in its hole — none of this helped Booster Terrik in his war.

And the old smuggler knew it. He knew and was clearly aware that he was losing his most important battle in the entire history of his commercial activities.

Booster Terrik was fighting with the documents.

Invoices, cash orders, checks, estimates, technical documentation, drawings, plans, diagrams, diagrams...

And everyone who entered Booster's personal cabin, seeing piles of papers the size of a man laid out on all horizontal planes, because of the mass of which sometimes the owner of the ship himself was not visible, understood that Booster Terrik was losing his war. And with a devastating score.

But no one dared to say this to his face, because no one wanted to tease the enraged rancor. Everyone on the ships — crewman, trader, bounty hunter, smuggler — risked their lives by pointing out this unfortunate flaw in the famous smuggler's magnificent array of qualities. For in anger, Booster Terrik is terrible. Very terrible.

Booster Terrik (check comment)

And at the present moment, hearing the harsh sound emanating from the holoprojector of the former captain's cabin, the owner of the Errant Venture let out his own battle roar.

And there were several reasons for this.

The first of them, and the largest, was that the holoprojector was an extremely convenient stand for three stacks of various kinds of documents. Moreover, this is almost the only place in the cabin where they could be placed and not mixed with other papers that had not yet been sorted.

The second reason is that the frequency of this projector was known only to the most limited circle of smugglers and scammers of all stripes in the galaxy. Reasonable three hundred, maybe five hundred...

—Okay, okay, stop bargaining with your conscience,— Booster sighed, getting up from the table and heading towards the beeping panel. The holoprojector rarely bothered him, which is why it was used as just another shelf.

Because the third reason for his mixed mood is that communication through a holographic communicator has always brought only profit for him. Very, very big profits! But rarely. And in Booster's life this was the most profitable shelf for papers.

He carefully removed the first stack of papers, without dropping a single piece of paper, and carefully installed this snow-white flimsiplast tower on the floor next to the communication device. The second followed the first, but this time, due to Terrik's haste, part of the tower collapsed and the documents, like a nimble flock of birds, scattered in all directions. The old smuggler ground his teeth and reached for the third tower of papers, still heartbroken as he watched the processed documents mix with the stacks and piles of unprocessed papers. Well, it's not all that bad —just go through the collection, and that's all. But if they collapsed...

It was only at that moment that Booster realized that reaching for the tower of papers and looking the other way was a bad idea. And he realized this thanks to a stack of documents from the collapsed last tower on the holocomm. The hefty bundle hit him on the head and scattered throughout the office. But the tower itself...

—Someone will have to pay handsomely for this,— Booster decided, looking at how the third tower of papers that had collapsed from the holoprojector turned two more stacks of human height, but no longer processed, into chaos. And those, in turn, are four more. And those four all eight... —Very expensive to pay!

When this collapse of the flimsiplast columns was completed, Booster's entire office was littered with documents, covering every section of the compartment with a thick layer. And only the holoprojector, by a strange coincidence, turned out to be completely clean. And continue to emit signals about an incoming call.

Booster activated the device, hoping that at least this action would bring him joy...

And immediately, as soon as I saw the face of my interlocutor, I realized how much I was mistaken.

"Sniff" growled Booster, adding three levels of impartial and frankly derogatory epithets, which would make any civilized person's face bleed and his ears curl into a tube.

One of the best, and certainly the most vile, hijacker in the galaxy looked at him from a holographic projection, smoking his constant cigar. Arrogant, happy with life, narcissistic.

— And I'm glad to see you, Booster,— said Niles Ferrier, blowing a smoke ring. —How much time has passed...

—Where did you get this frequency? —Terrik barked a question at the disgusting person. He had no great desire to communicate with the hijacker. After what he did in relation to the little Mirrax... Quartering "Sniff" would have been merciful, but the hijacker knew how to hide in various dark corners of the galaxy. And even "Claw" did not agree to provide Booster with information about Ferrier's whereabouts. For a reasonable price, of course. And could Terrik spend three million at any time.

—I have a business proposal for you, Booster,— he continued to smoke Sniff with the same mockery.

—Go to the Sith,— the smuggler did not succumb to the thirst for profit.

—It's worthwhile, Terrik,— oh, how he now wanted to work his fists properly and drive that smug smile off Ferrier's face. —For seven million credits...

The thirst for profit awoke in Booster's soul, feverishly whispering to him that for that kind of money he could repair an entire deck and open additional shops... But the desire to finish off the hijacker was a much higher priority.

—Listen, brat,— from the height of his position and the number of years he had lived, Terrik could call almost every smuggler, car thief and bounty hunter that way. And not get an answer. But in the context of "Sniff" he used almost every word with offensive connotations. Well, except that conjunctions and prepositions continued to remain neutral. —I'll unscrew your leaky head as soon as you're in my line of sight.

—Still sulking about Mirax? —Ferrier asked with feigned sadness. —It was a long time ago and...

—For a long time?! —Terrik exploded. —You rancor burp wanted to drag my daughter into the slave trade! And also robbed her! No matter what tales you tell among your fellow hijackers, every first smuggler in the galaxy knows that he will receive a large bonus from me if he hints where to look for you. So run and hide, sucker, before my people track your lousy transmitter and I come to unscrew your head after counting all the ribs.

—Booster, what happened is gone,— Ferrier said with an annoying smile. —I propose a deal...

—Put it in your...

-...worth seven million...

—... and then push it with rancor's feet deeper and turn it counterclockwise ...

-... and this is real money...

—...after that, take some coolant from the reactor and...

—I need buzz droids,— Ferrier said in a thin falsetto, unable to bear the descriptions of the cars that would fall like an inevitable avalanche on his head.

Booster thought for just a couple of seconds.

—You have never had and don't have so much money, Sniff,— he said.

—But I have a solvent client,— said the annoying hijacker, not without self-admiration of his imaginary importance. —With a lot of money. I know you have buzz droids —you traded them with Zann a few years ago. And my client needs seven million worth of these droids.

A little less than five to be exact.

Two more seconds to comprehend what was said.

—No, "Sniff" —Booster was openly pleased at how the hijacker once again grimaced when he heard his impartial nickname, given to him in illegal circles at the suggestion of the owner of the "Errant Venture" himself. —If your client was as good as you say, then he would contact me directly. Or to the Zann Consortium...

—Oh, who needs these frostbitten thugs,— the hijacker winced. —They already lost almost all their capabilities and territories when the turmoil between the Imperials and...

—... and if he came to you,— the owner of the "Errant Venture" continued to voice his conclusions, —then he's just as frostbitten all over. And I don't get along with people like that. Your proposal smells like a setup for a hundred parsecs. But... —Booster pretended to think. —You know, there is a condition under which I can agree to a deal with you.

—I had no doubt that you wouldn't miss yours,— Ferrier's eyes lit up even in the hologram from a fit of greed. Booster just chuckled contemptuously. —Yes, I understand, the shipment is huge, the entire hold will have to be filled with them, but I'm sure that your "Errant Venture" can deliver the cargo to the addressee and...

Terrik would not have lasted so long in his business if he had not learned to identify critical information in the speech and behavior of his interlocutors. Buzz droids in huge quantities, an offer to deliver them to their destination on a Star Destroyer with an incomplete crew and reduced weapons, rumors that the Imperials are looking for warships... and in the middle of it all, "Sniff". With a tempting offer.

Booster was not strong in science, but he thought quickly enough, especially in moments when what was happening directly affected him personally, members of his family, his business and a narrow circle of close intelligent ones. For any of these components, Terrik Sr. will, without a twinge of conscience, go over his head even into the mouth of Palpatine himself. Well, maybe his CorSecov son-in-law... Booster mentally

—I'm ready,— Booster agreed, breaking into a gorgeous smile. Ferrier smoked his cigar contentedly, not expecting a catch. If he had known Booster even a little as well as the others who did business with him, he would not have been happy with that smile.

—You won't regret trusting me,— Ferrier assured him. —The client is respectable, generous, if you have more buzz droids beyond this price —bring them, he will buy everything.

—Of course I'll bring it,— Booster became serious. —I'll even give it away for free.

—Uh... —"Sniff", of course, it's still a rancor burp, but it can sense danger. —What are you talking about?

—It's simple,— Terrik grinned. —I'm ready to give your client twenty million credits' worth of buzz droids—you can count how many droids that is.

—Four hundred — Ferrier knew how to count money and goods. —I know you, Booster. You don't do anything for free. What's the catch?

—There's no trick,— Terrik assured him. —I just need something from your client. And then we will make a deal.

—How can you need anything from him if you don't even know who he is? Ferrier was nervous. So much so that he even bit his cigar.

—I guess,— Terrik grinned. —So, I will give the Empire four hundred fully combat-ready Separatist buzz droids. And I'll even throw one Lambda-type shuttle on top. If they send me something in return.

-What are your conditions, Booster? —"Sniff" did not deny it. He knows very well that such a trick will not work with the owner of the "Errant Venture".

—Your head,— Terrik stated calmly. — They can even do it with your body.

Ferrier looked at him hard.

—Not a funny joke, Booster,— he said. But in his heart he guessed that no one here practiced humor.

—But no one makes jokes, Sniff,— Terrik grinned. —Voice my proposal to your employer. And you will very quickly find yourself in my hands. And the Imperials will get what they want. Everyone is happy. And the Empire will at least do something good for this galaxy — get rid of you. In my opinion, a very good deal. Everyone wins.

—Except for me,— Ferrier muttered angrily through his teeth.

—No one cares about you, bastard,— Booster said and turned off the holoprojector.

He looked around the cabin littered with papers. I cursed mentally. And he began to collect the hated documents back into bundles. The packs eventually turned into piles. And by the end of the day, towers of documents reappeared in Booster Terrik's cabin.

And one more point of hatred towards "Sniff" was added.

***

— An assault frigate would be very useful to me, Grand Admiral,— Moff Ferrus looked at me almost pleadingly. —Honestly, I would like her to become the flagship of the fleet based on Tangrene.

—There are other plans for this ship,— I calmly objected.

—The shipyard has ordered to disarm him and dismantle several components,— the Moff began from afar.

—That's the plan,— I answered calmly. — As already discussed, you will have three medium cruisers, not counting starships of a lower class. Moreover, the platform also arrived. Your defense capability has increased by orders of magnitude.

We met with Moff Ferrus again at his residence on the planet. Our company was once again accompanied by the chief engineer, Neil Reyes. It turns out that we have formed a kind of triumvirate —the Moff provides political and logistical support for the fleet, I provide military support, and the shipyards and production complexes on the planet provide technical support. And yet, in the existing hierarchy there is a clear leader —me. The remaining two are the Moff and the Chief Engineer, with the rights of deputies «in areas». This approach will allow me to relieve Pellaeon of most issues, leaving him with only control of orders within the armed forces. Ferrus and Reyes will handle the rest. It would be more correct to receive reports from them separately, but this is where the dog lies.

The first is that my self-education is only at the beginning of my journey. When I thought that I could just take and study the entire training program for imperial officers in a couple of months, I simply had no idea what I was talking about. This is a huge amount of information. Very carefully researched, analyzed, filled with observational statistics, assessment of resource costs and material parts... Yes, this is just a visual aid on how to win, logical and consistent. There were just two weak points in this information.

First, our enemy has such information. And he is already perfectly prepared for the implementation of such tactical schemes.

Secondly, there are practically no people left who have such data in their heads. And young people, like Lieutenant Tschel, are trained at an accelerated rate. They are taught only the imperial concept of warfare. Everything that has been developed over thousands of years by the Republic and other states is cut off as unnecessary. So, unfortunately, it turns out that the victories of the New Republic are not only in the heroism and skill of their fighters. But there are also certain problems with the training of the naval officer corps in the Empire itself.

No matter how strange it was, no matter how hard Moff Ferrus tried to hide his surprise, he carried out the order I gave him a day ago: «advanced training courses» were opened on Tangrene. Where is the replenishment of lost knowledge carried out? Otherwise, I am beginning to be very worried about the fact that the arriving «volunteers» are very young and, at best, have only served for a couple of years on some ship. Although in modern imperial realities even such a period of service is almost «veteran».

It's good that shipyard mechanics and engineers, according to their leader, are trained according to imperial methods in full.

The latter had just arrived to provide the first information in a series of data that is important to me here and now. And the first of them already makes me happy —the Golan II defensive platform, which we captured from Crondre, has finally arrived. It took more than a month for such a transfer, but, I must say, according to preliminary estimates, it was worth it.

After exchanging greetings with the engineer, I asked him a question:

—How bad is it?

—The platform suffered significant damage,— Reyes said. — The hyperdrive has outlived its usefulness and now it is simply dangerous to use it. But the principle of operation itself —yes, it has a right to exist. Perhaps if we have a hyperdrive for larger starships, we can make the platform move. But there is a lot of work to be done and not only in this part, but also to restore the integrity of the hull. A large reserve of metals will be required to restore strength and internal structure. Up to half of the weapons were either destroyed or irreparably damaged. But, some of them we will be able to restore using our own reserves, some we will install guns from the rebel assault frigate,— the Moff threw a thoughtful look at me, now understanding for what purposes it is necessary to disarm a ship that does not particularly fit into the concept of the armed forces. — By the end of the month, we will carry out repair work and restore the station according to factory designs. Actually,— the chief engineer looked at me with his artificial eye, —by this moment we will also finish equipping the Golan with a masking field. If by that time we have a suitable hyperdrive, say, for a Star Destroyer of the Questor or Imperial type, we will complete the complete modernization at the same time.

—What about the shipyards? —I clarified. —How soon can you disguise them?

—It will take longer,— he said. — More resources and more workers. Presumably two months.

—Moff,— I turned to the governor of the Morshdine sector. — Have you found out when the competition for cargo transportation of the Empire will take place?

—Yes, sir,— in fact, we met yesterday after Pellaeon's report to discuss this and a number of other points. —In two and a half months. But applications must be submitted within one and a half hours.

That's the time pressure. Eighty to ninety days. During this time, it is necessary to develop a plan for an attack on the Hast shipyard. Not thick, but quite acceptable. By this time, it will be possible to already have the resources to cover both the station and the shipyard under a camouflage field. Because if there is a retaliatory strike, they will inevitably suffer. If the station is not really a pity, it was created in order to withstand the blow, then the orbital repair shipyard... This is something more valuable.

—I understand, Moff,— I said. —Reyes, did you review the data transmitted to you?

—Nothing supernatural or impossible,— he admitted in his creaky voice. —However, I don't understand why we need design data for converting heavy cruisers of the Dreadnought type with a deck hangar, if we don't have one in our fleet?

— At the moment, they are absent,— I did not hide. —But in the future everything may change.

No one asked me any clarifying questions.

— Plasma drills? —I asked.

—It will be easy to implement your wishes,— said the chief engineer. —You can place a number of fully armed soldiers inside—I'm talking about eighty-one without breaking the seal. And those that are damaged... We will spend a lot of money and resources to put them in order.

—But still? —I asked.

—We will install an additional fuel tank for rhydonium without any problems,— said the chief engineer. —But I must say right away that in this case these will be disposable mechanisms. Their engines will become unusable.

—We won't need these mechanisms more than once,— I lifted the veil of secrecy. — Sheathe depressurized vehicles with plain metal in the places of the holes —they will not need to retain the atmosphere for a long time. The main thing is that air currents do not interfere with heading. The control is still the same, remote?

—It is a priority and is written in the main drill software code,— said the chief engineer. — Passengers, of course, can control them independently, but if the transmitter is turned on and a command is received, the machines will react to it regardless of the actions of the crew.

Badly. This is exactly how the operation on Sluis Van was disrupted in the events of this universe known to me.

— Can you rewrite the program code? —I asked.

—Theoretically yes, practically... —the expression on the chief engineer's face clearly demonstrated the completeness of his thoughts on this issue. —It won't be fast. If we have excellent knowledge of basic programs written in a standard programming language, then the remote control system is... Peculiar. The manufacturing company works in an operating system unfamiliar to us; the number system is not binary, but decimal, with its own aspects. Programming algorithms, like the language of control programs, are completely unfamiliar to us it will take months to confidently understand them. For some reason, the manufacturer created the program code in several programming languages, and each subordinates its own drill systems... My apologies, Grand Admiral, but this is civilian equipment, we are not trained to work with this kind of equipment.

Some kind of nonsense. Why complicate a simple job so much? This is not a spy spaceship, but simple geological equipment.

—Indeed,— I said. —Unusual approach. Overly inventive.

—I think the whole point is that the manufacturing company does not have its own developments in technologies for remote control of ships,— suggested the chief engineer. —They took some kind of program, it seems that it was created by verpins or some other insectoids, after which they combined one with the other, applied temporary patches... It's unlikely that anyone would legally sell them imperial remote control programs, and they didn't very advanced in terms of the number of commands executed, but with a larger signal reception area. I assume that the calculation was made so that independent repair of the equipment software would be very difficult in the field and would require service from the manufacturer.

Well, maybe. I don't know if I could figure this out on my own. And this is another advantage of having a «deputy» on the technical side. I would like to understand my «swamp» and not rack my brains about what I don't understand at all. Unfortunately, I am far from technology. At all. It's no wonder that in this universe many people use mechanic droids: the easiest way to save themselves from unnecessary headaches in matters that do not relate to direct work activities.

And yet I don't like it. I really don't like it. No guarantee that, as in events known to me, someone will not try to use a remote control technique?

And then the plan will end, it will be possible to put an end to the capture of ships with the help of digging machines... Hmm...

— Can you remove the remote control system? —I asked.

—Well... the chief engineer grimaced barely noticeably. — Of course, there are no big problems in this, but you will have to tinker, of course, cleaning out the program code on each of the installations...

—Do it differently,— I suggested. It seems there is an interesting solution to the problem. Very interesting. — Rewrite the program code of one drill, removing the manufacturer's remote control system from there and installing the imperial version there. It should operate at the same frequency as before. Can you do this?

—I wanted to offer you this, but without control systems,— said the chief engineer. —The drills are stolen. Perhaps their control codes are already known to the New Republic. You said that installations are necessary to strike the enemy. Based on the technical data of the vehicles, I assume that they will be used as landing bots a short dash towards the target, overcoming the deflector field, splitting the armor with plasma while ensuring the tightness of the hole and landing boarding groups. But it's not that simple. There is a small chance that they will exploit this loophole... sir, with all due respect, I would recommend using manual control only.

—Your guess is correct, Reyes. But do as I said —from the various tasks I gave to my subordinates, a different plan emerged. Why install rhydonium traction on "miners"? So that they get to their goals much faster. And so that the intelligent ones sitting in them can get out of their capsules and capture the bridges of warships converted into transport ships. I was counting on only a few dozen «miners» but now I have one hundred and thirty-two of them, if I remember correctly. Fifty-one — with problems with sealing the housing. This means that not just stormtroopers will have to be placed inside, but space marines in armor capable of saving the life of a soldier in outer space for a long time. But all this will be an empty farce if there is a republican wise guy who seizes control and forces the "miners" to pierce through the hulls of ships and all the work will go down the drain. This means that my original plan to capture as many ships as possible from the enemy — not all of them, but only those that I really need — will have to be adjusted.

Thinking about why the data in Palpatine's treasury was erased, but such valuables as the Spaarti cylinders, the cloaking field and others remained there, led me to certain thoughts. Which went directly to Palpatine. And his Resurrection. And in order not to fall into his hands, I will have to either run far, far away, but this is hardly a panacea, or die.

And at the moment of realizing this thought, a plan was born. How to make sure that the wolves are fed and the sheep are safe. And also so that only the faithful and intelligent remain with me. Loyal to the very end. And the plan to capture the Republican ships on Sluis Van — the original one, I mean, was called «Take everything that is lying bad, and let the trophies fight while you look for a way to get out» today has undergone changes. Cardinal.

The more damage done to the New Republic, the weaker it will be by the time it meets the Reborn Palpatine. I do not intend to completely destroy the former rebels, even if I had the strength to do so. And they, in general, exist. You don't have to waste your money on the New Republic and go to several places right now to get hold of imperial equipment, and even something like the Death Star. But then there are no guarantees that during the remaining period before Palpatine's attack (if he keeps the «schedule» known to me and attacks next year) I will be able to win over a large number of Imperials from these «pots» to my side. So, we will work with those who exist. And continue to study the available data.

And also —continue to strike at the New Republic. Those who are watching (and I am sure that in addition to the Imperial Remnants, Pelapatine's emissaries are also watching me) should have no other opinion than —Thrawn continues his crusade against the enemies of the Empire. The role cannot be played poorly. Otherwise there will be questions.

So, in connection with the trouble that arose, it was necessary to modernize your plan. The calculation of success will also be based on «miners» but in a different way.

And yet, in order to understand whether I am right or wrong regarding my assumptions about Mount Thantiss and the «goods» stored there, I need to talk with C'baoth. And I don't want that so much...

But, it's time to get back to the details.

— As you wish, Grand Admiral,— the chief engineer resigned himself to a heap of new problems.

—That's not all,— I said. There was a quiet, dissatisfied sigh from Mr. Reyes. —On eighty-one sealed drills, the program must be operated only with manual control.

—Sir, I'm sorry, I don't understand,— the scarlet eye of the chief engineer's implant blinked. —But why then write program code with remote control?

—Because we will have two drill projects,— I answered calmly. — You will have to free installations with broken seals from any unnecessary equipment, including life support systems. The main and reserve tanks must be filled with our new fuel. However, you should write an additional algorithm into the remote control commands, which should be based on the time that has passed since the command was received, the speed of the plasma drill and, most importantly, on a specific condition — landing on the surface of the skin and making a hole in it for landing . If, after these conditions are met, a remote command to control the drill is received, regardless of its content, the following should happen...

As I finished my thought, the Moff and the Chief Engineer looked at each other.

—Sir, this is pure suicide for our soldiers,— said the Moff. Not to say that he was worried about this, but... He had just heard a plan for the cold-blooded killing of the entire landing party.

—That's right,— I agreed. —Except that...

***

—I apologize for being late for the meeting,— Karrde said, taking a seat in the Millennium Falcon's wardroom chair. —I think you understand.

—Of course,— the Alderaanian princess sitting opposite him assured him. But Solo, standing in the corner and propping up the wall, was clearly not happy with the situation. — Meeting you is one of the reasons we are here. A delay of a day or two will not play a big role.

As expected, Karrde thought. He had to take a short detour and settle matters at Rishi, his organization's new base of operations. Considering that he didn't really expect to get anything from this meeting, there was no reason to rush either. But he is simply obliged to apologize for being late —like any decent and well-mannered sentient.

—So,— "Claw" intertwined his fingers. —How can I help you?

— What do you know about the Imperial formation that attacked the Dalfivean sector? — Organa Solo opened her mouth to say something, but her husband was faster. And he earned a soft reproachful look.

—Is this an official appeal on behalf of the New Republic or is it your personal interest, Captain Solo? — he asked looking into the Corellian's eyes.

—Hasty, not very correct, but official,— the princess intercepted the thread of the conversation. —You informed us about their asteroid collection activities. The management decided that they could help clarify a number of points...

—Without a doubt I can,— Karrde smiled. —However, you must understand. The specifics of my work do not allow me to provide particularly valuable information for free.

—But you reported about asteroids,— Solo reminded.

—Yes, and shortened your search a couple of weeks,— Karrde thought. And it also turned out to be a wonderful hook, which the New Republic fell for.

—I just helped, out of old friendship, to clarify the issue of where the Imperials got the stones that you found on Crondre and Ord-Pardron,— the smuggler explained. after all, my organization and the New Republic had a lot in common in the past. Mutually beneficial contracts, for example.

The princess pretended that this straightforward hint had nothing to do with obvious extortion. But Solo did not limit himself to diplomatic restraint, chuckled meaningfully. Another reproachful look. Well, well, well, it looks like the rumors are true — the captain of the Millennium Falcon is really under heel.

—The New Republic understands that everything has its price,— the girl said. and we would like to discuss what you can offer us.

— To understand whether it's worth spending the last money from an already thin budget? — Karrde asked with a condescending smile on his face. Solo coughed into his fist. The princess scratched her nose rather artistically.

—The information about our financial difficulties is slightly exaggerated,— is a streamlined phrase for not the most pleasant constants of the dialogue. — We prefer not to waste money on millet.

«Because you don't have any» Karrde thought. He had some connections in the leadership of the New Republic. And he knew very well the capabilities of the rulers of Coruscant and they can spend very, very little on valuable information. Rishi just made it clear. And realized that the Republicans simply couldn't handle a large amount of information. So it's worth setting them up right away in the way that it's better to talk about transport and logistics matters. For example, an extremely inflated price tag.

—Well, ask, and I'll tell you the price,— he suggested. —But I must warn you right away it will be very expensive.

—Which Imperial commander attacked us? — Organa Solo asked

—Twenty-five million,— Solo coughed. The princess looked bored, as if she was spending more money on lunch.

-Where are they based? —she asked a new question.

—Twenty million,— Karrde smiled.

—What is their further goal? —Solo asked unexpectedly. Talon looked at his wife. She, thinking for a moment, nodded in agreement, showing that she was also interested in this information. And if she is, then so are her superiors in the New Republic.

—Seventy million,— Karrde announced the ten-fold inflated price. Because he didn't know it himself, but couldn't let it show. In no case — this is bad for business.

— Have you decided to buy yourself a Star Destroyer? —the captain of the Millennium Falcon gasped.

—I'm thinking about it,— Karrde said confidentially, smiling at the Republicans. Did they really think that with their ridiculous two million in their pocket they could get him to talk?

The Solos looked at each other.

— Are the attacks on ships and bases in the Dafilvean sector systems and on systems in the Sluissi sector the work of the same Imperial commander? asked the princess.

Talon at first wanted to raise the price tag, since this news was extremely recent and confirmation came not so long ago. And the trouble is that it will definitely not be useful to anyone worthwhile and able to pay. But to the New Republic...

—Five hundred thousand,— he said the price.

—Consider that you have them,— the princess sighed. — I hope my word will be enough to assure the transfer?

—First money, then information,— Karrde smiled radiantly. —Sorry, but these are the rules of the deal.

—You've collaborated with us before,— Solo noted. — and I have never been deceived...

«Yeah, and some of the equipment from Thyferra is still lying on Rishi, waiting it's time» Karrde thought. But he remained silent, allowing the married couple to make their own choice.

Everything was decided in a couple of minutes and Karrde's untraceable account was replenished with the specified amount.

—Yes, they are connected,— he confirmed. —The attacks were carried out by starships under the command of the same Imperial commander and the orders were given to them accordingly. As well as about the attack on Nklonn, — Talon made the latter conclusion based on observations. When Thrawn sends one of the Star Destroyers in his personal armada on a mission to the other side of the galaxy, it's a telling moment. On the one hand, there is the work of the imperial military «on the payroll» from Imperial Space and the Pentastar Alignment, and on the other, information from the Republican base and from the unemployed miners from Nklonn.

—Very valuable information,— Solo winced. and how is its price justified...

— Additionally, I can say that the attack on Pantolomin was also carried out by the same group —yes, the price tag has been raised quite a bit. Well, it's okay, it will be possible to give away a few insignificant facts for free. —Like all previous imperial raids on your territory. But, I'll say right away, so as not to give you vain hope, I don't know why the Imperials choose their targets.

— That is, a separate group of the Empire's fleet is acting against us? — Solo flashed his erudition. The princess looked questioningly at Talon. The information merchant just smiled diplomatically.

—How many? — the Alderaanian princess asked, resigned to the inevitable.

— A million,— Karrde smiled.

Solo coughed again. It didn't seem to have occurred to him that information, even something as simple as that, could be worth more than his entire ship from the time it was produced by the Corellian Engineering Company until now, including the cost of all the spare parts and upgrades installed on that ship. for decades by different owners.

The princess sighed and again contacted her leadership...

After completing the tranche, Karrde diplomatically explained:

—Imperial Space has allocated an operational unit from the fleet, which is subordinate to independent command,— Karrde explained. — As far as I know, not the best were sent there, but not the worst either. The ship commanders have combat experience, and not little at that. According to my information, the combat readiness of this flotilla last year was slightly better than that of cadet recruits. But, as you can judge from the battle in the Dafilvean sector, they learn quickly. These ships are acting against you. As far as I know, this fleet does not coordinate its goals with the government on Orinda, Ciutrik, Yaga Minor, or anywhere else in the Imperial Remnants. Complete autonomy of action, independent task setting, freedom to choose goals. As an additional bonus, I can report that in a month and a half, the sluggish construction of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer will be completed at the Bilbringi shipyards. «One». But it will join this flotilla. How and where is separate information that has its own cost.

—We could find out all this ourselves,— Solo snorted.

—Indeed? —"Claw" was surprised. —So why are you asking me? As far as I remember, after the victory over Zsinj, General Cracken's department made seventy-four attempts to infiltrate its people into the Imperial Remnants. All of them were discovered and eliminated,— the Solo couple looked at each other. —Yes, consider this information also accompanying what you paid for. And there is no need to play with your nodules, Captain Solo. I warned you that my services are very expensive.

—I'm looking at you, Talon,— the commander of the Millennium Falcon peeled himself away from the bulkhead and approached his wife, — and I'm still trying to understand: whose side are you on?

Not a muscle moved on Talon's face. At least that's what he hoped.

—On my own, captain,— he answered calmly. —I and my organization are not interested in your mess with the Empire. I have clients on both front lines.

—Yes, only you are loading us with a verbal vacuum, but what are you selling to the Imperials? — Solo asked with caustic irony in his voice. Karrde looked at him with interest. No, he doesn't really think that way. Just accumulated anger, nothing more.

—The same as for all other clients,— Karrde said calmly. — The New Republic pays for information alone, the Empire... However, I can say completely free of charge that those Imperials who can afford to pay for my services are not interested in absolutely anything about the New Republic. They are busy with their own problems and are looking for ways to solve them. But Imperial Space, the one controlled from Orinda —yes, they are interested in a lot. But I'm not interested in trading war,— said Claw. —Things go much better when the galaxy is at peace. Thin, but peaceful.

Talon did not voice to the family that from the moment of the death of Zsinj until Thrawn's offensive this year, the absence of galactic campaigns by the Imperials was guaranteed only by the latter's well-sold disinformation. Under a separate tariff plan for General Cracken. No, he was not an altruist — Republican intelligence officers paid well for this information. And besides, in such turbulent times, it is actually easier for smugglers to work — while the ships of the Imperials and Republicans sit at bases in the border zone, and do not patrol hyperspace routes or guard planets in the deep sectors of their territories, income from smuggling grows exponentially . But war is an unpleasant process that sometimes interferes with a well-functioning business. And if it is necessary to play along with one side in order to restore armed parity, Karrde will do it without a twinge of conscience. Within reason, of course. This is more profitable for his organization.

—Okay,— Solo said still suspiciously. — Are the Imperials really sure that just one flotilla can destroy the New Republic? After all, they are not waging war to increase the number of territories under their control, but are only attacking our military installations.

—I don't have an answer,— Talon admitted frankly.

— So, Jabba's heir does not have his own people in the most warring part of the Empire? — Solo was surprised. And this time —sincerely.

—I didn't say that,— said "Claw" calmly.

—That is, we spent one and a half million to find out information that you won't really use, because we still didn't hear any specifics? —Solo clarified. Talon glanced at his wife. Judging by the expression on her face, the princess agreed with her husband's opinion.

—If you have the amounts indicated by me, we will move on to specifics,— he said. —Otherwise, for the indicated money, this is all I can offer you. Of course, unless you want to discuss with me a proposal to participate in cargo transportation for the needs of the New Republic.

No, really, this couple looks at each other quite intriguingly.

— Doesn't participation in such an action mean that you will no longer be a neutral party? asked the princess.

—No,— Karrde replied. —Personally, I won't do this, it's not my field of activity,— and at the same time, a dozen freighters have already been purchased, the crews have been formed, and they are just waiting for the go-ahead. A risky initiative —not for the sake of money, but for the sake of strengthening his agent network in the camp of the New Republic. But if at least someone finds out about his initiative, the loss of «neutral» status and authority will be the least of the problems. Each of the Imperial Remnants will open a hunt for him. Just like the New Republic, if it understands why it really needs it. —But I can say my word among smugglers —whether they should get involved in such an adventure or not.

— And what will your positive answer depend on? — Han Solo asked in a voice full of skepticism.

—Depends on whether the New Republic can offer my fellow smugglers a decent reward for their work,— Karrde smiled. — If my memory serves me correctly, then two of your small caravans with medicines and food for the victims in the systems of this sector were attacked by pirates? And after just a couple of days, two more —ten parsecs from Elom.

— And why am I not surprised that you know about this too,— the Alderaanian princess smiled good-naturedly.

—What can I do? "Claw" returned her smile. —This is the job.

***

—Jedi Master,— I greeted C'baoth, who majestically and sedately entered the officer's mess of the Chimera. The old man looked more collected than usual. A clear, understanding look, proud posture. Even his beard seems to have been combed and his hair no longer looks like an overused toothbrush. —Glad you joined me.

—Where is my Jedi, Grand Admiral? —There was a little aggression and impatience in the clone's voice.

—I dare to assure you that we are moving to active actions to lure out and capture Corran Horn,— I said, watching the Jedi take a seat in the chair opposite.

—My patience is not unlimited, Grand Admiral,— the Jedi said, looking into my eyes. But this is already a threat. But not life, not authority a threat to terminate our agreement. And it's hard to blame him for this. Like a capricious child, he wants to get what he wants here and now. And patience is not his virtue.

Why did he become so brave? One glance at the torso of this elderly but strongly built man was enough for me to understand that he continued to hold on to his medallion. And it is also clear, from previous conversations, that an unambiguous and direct answer to him is enough, and the Jedi will fall into confusion, losing the thread of the conversation.

—Like mine, dear master,— I said, stroking the ysalamiri sitting on my lap. —But the question now is different.

— And what? —he asked ironically. —The fact that you can't grab, twist and drag to me one Force-sensitive intelligence who doesn't even have the proper Jedi talents?

—You constantly rush me to make a decision, to deliver the Jedi to you,— I reminded him indifferently. and at the same time, have you ever wondered how successful Horn's training with you will be if we capture him and drag him to you, throw him under your feet and leave him?

—I don't see any problem,— C'baoth snorted. —If he has any brains, he will understand that no matter the circumstances, he needs to become a Jedi and take his place in the galaxy.

— To rule over the chosen people? —I clarified.

—Yes,— the Jedi clone answered innocently. —Understand what true power is, and not that ephemeral intangible absurdity that you crave.

—You don't know what I want,— the objection made the clone laugh.

—I don't need to try to read your thoughts, Grand Admiral,— he said, pointing a finger at the lizard in my arms. —I know how your people feel about me. «Crazy old man», «madman», «Jedi scum» scum. I hear their words, their thoughts. I've heard and seen it all in the past. And I don't care about your ignoramuses. And even your lizards, blocking my Force, cannot take away from me the knowledge and understanding of human souls. You, simple intelligent people, are not able to understand a Jedi does not need to be constantly in contact with the Force in order to read what is hidden in the hearts of others.

Here's how. This means the clone realized that it was the Ysalamiri who were interrupting his abilities. It's not good, but it's expected —even though he's crazy, he has moments of enlightenment. And at such moments, it's not difficult to compare the lack of your capabilities and the presence of a lizard nearby. However, it was assumed that C'baoth would figure out the trick —perhaps that's why he hasn't been so active lately.

I had no intention of dissuading him of anything. He made conclusions and will stand by them to the end. For me, such an attempt at deception can only come back to haunt me negatively in the future. If the crazy Jedi realizes that he is just a resource that is being used, and then they plan to get rid of him so as not to spoil everything that I bring to life, he will cause much more problems.

—In that case, I think we should discuss the very essence of how Horn will be delivered to you,— I said. —In the near future —within a month, your future student will be deprived of something that is dear to him and his family. He will look for it with all his might. You are interested in him coming to you. I'm no less interested in this. Not much data has been preserved about the abilities of the Jedi —the Emperor and Darth Vader did their best. Therefore, I want to clarify —can you call Corran Horn? Not with your voice, with the help of the Force.

— Another test of my abilities? —C'baoth chuckled.

—You can consider it in this context,— I said indifferently, glancing sideways at Jedi Rukh sitting against the wall behind me. In the semi-darkness of the room, and in the range of action of Ysalamiri, he should be undetectable to the Jedi clone. as far as I know, Horn is a Corellian. And they are a stubborn and stubborn people. As you correctly noted, we have been preparing for his capture for a long time —but only so that everything succeeds. As I said, Horn will be deprived of what is most precious to him. And he starts searching. It would be ideal if you could contact him and invite him to your place, promising him help and knowledge in order to find value...

—How vulgar and careless the Jedi have become in my absence,— C'baoth snorted. —Throwing everything away just to look for some trinket...

—In this galaxy, intelligent people have more valuable things than abstract knowledge about higher matters,— I thought.

—But still?

—Yes, I can,— C'baoth confirmed my assumptions. —It is not difficult. I saw his appearance. So I can find him in the Force. He will hear my voice and everything I tell him...

This is probably how Palpatine maintained his mental connection with Mara Jade.

—So this simplifies my plan,— I said, stroking the lizard. It's so good that thanks to her no one is trying to get into my head.

-Can you find things in his mind that he doesn't want to show or tell you? —I asked. And... this question didn't really apply to Corran directly. Rather, this is more a test of the validity of my fears as to whether Palpatine is capable of getting into my head and getting out of there what he is not supposed to know.

—In the galaxy, only some races are immune to mental techniques of the Force,— C'baoth said boredly. — Hutts or Toydarians, for example. But people are always an open book for a powerful Jedi like me.

And therefore, my assumptions about the danger of appearing before the bright eyes of Palpatine are not only superstitious fears, but also very real problems. Which means it's definitely impossible to fall into his clutches alive.

Just as we cannot allow C'baoth to understand that parts of our conversation with him do not directly relate to Horn.

—During the time that you will train him, I would like to ask you to find out where the bases and outposts of the rebels are,— frankly bored notes appeared on the clone's face. after all, learning the Jedi art is not a quick process. And while you train your student, we will be left without your participation and Combat Meditation. This will somewhat slow down our progress towards the goal, so information about the enemy's secret lairs would be very, very useful.

—You are like a savage who hits a stone with a complex device in the hope of causing sparks,— the clone said. —Yes, I can do it.

—Can an intelligent, Force-sensitive person, untrained in the Jedi precepts, chart a flight course where no one has ever flown? —I asked. And I was not mistaken in my assumption —C'baoth looked at me with great suspicion.

—Why do you need this information, Grand Admiral? —he growled quietly. — Do you want to learn more about the Jedi to finish what the Emperor and Darth Vader started?

—Not at all,— I answered calmly. —I intend to adhere to our agreement with you that the Jedi Order should be revived and take part in this as much as possible. Do you think that if Corran Horn came to you in response to your call and found you sitting on the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer, would he want to believe you?

—I'll tell him the truth,— the Jedi clone snorted. —He will follow me, not paying attention to such fluff as external attributes. I will raise him so that he will not get dirty in petty squabbles between the Empire and the New Republic.

—You forget that Horrn's ancestors were exterminated,— I slightly distorted the facts. In fact, Horn's own grandfather died during the Clone Wars and not at all at the hands of the Empire. And his father lived a relatively quiet life on Corellia, knowing that he was sensitive to the Force. —The New Republic demonizes the extermination of the Jedi in every possible way, and this is known to almost the entire galaxy. Corran is a New Republic fighter. And the future Jedi raised by you. I have no doubt at all that you will be able to train him under any circumstances, but I think that if he or his entourage does not know about your connection with the Empire, the learning process will go faster.

—Hmm... C'baoth chewed his lips. —Yes, that's probably what will happen. Obstinacy and freethinking can be Hastful. But what does this have to do with the ability to find a way among the stars?

—Despite the fact that any sane person will have a question —«How could a Jedi hide from the eyes of the Empire for almost three decades, being on some easily accessible planet?» — I said with the most indifferent look. But in my thoughts there is a completely different reason that prompted me to ask this question. It's just that there is one such «little place» in the galaxy, where there are imperial ships, scientific and technical personnel, and huge technical achievements. Come and get it. But there is a big problem — black holes block the way there. In the events known to me, the problem of accessibility of this region of the galaxy was solved by the future Jedi. And since, in the events known to me, this episode will take place approximately half a decade after the death of Thrawn and the resurrection of Emperor Palpatine, there is every reason to believe that at the moment there is no need to go there and take away what is «badly lying». But in the future, when everything calms down, when the global problem is solved... Who knows, who knows...

—The power gives me unprecedented opportunities,— C'baoth said somehow hesitantly, feverishly fiddling with his medallion on his neck. —The Jedi... some of them... very strong... they could hide their presence in the Force...

and do you have such skills? a very interesting revelation. I remember something similar. —Don't think I don't trust you, but what if Horn asks you to demonstrate this skill?

—I won't be able to teach it to him,— C'baoth's eyes darted. Already good. This means that he also has limits in his arsenal of superpowers. Helpful information. —My talents... they are higher than such childish pranks!

—In this case, it would sound most convincing that all this time you were hiding on a planet located in such an inaccessible corner of the galaxy that it was simply impossible to get you from there, don't you think? — I continued my research, asking the mad Jedi for information.

—Yes, that sounds reasonable... the old man crossed his arms over his chest and looked absentmindedly at the tabletop right in front of him.

—I have several similar planets in mind,— I continue to maneuver on the brink of lies and revelation. —But it will be pointless if Horn, following your call, cannot get there. You won't, like a kindergarten teacher, lead him —by the hand— to you?

—Well... yes, I won't... the Jedi finally switched to a barely intelligible muttering. It looks like he's lost in his thoughts. —Yes, a strong Jedi can find the right course when stuck in space,— he said. —But this requires a lot of strength...

—Well, this test will demonstrate how willing Horn is to learn from you, whether he respects your wisdom and whether he is able to understand it at least partially,— I continued my interrogation. —But I think it's not worth risking such a promising student and sending him into the wilds of galactic anomalies in search of you. —He's too valuable to just lose him like that,— the Jedi clone shook his head affirmatively, agreeing with me. — Remember you said that those who wanted to meet with the Guardian flew to Wayland?

—Yes, there were some...

— After all, there were probably Force-sensitive intelligent ones among them,— I did not retreat, seeing that C'baoth was beginning to withdraw into himself. With a quiet hiss, the door to the wardroom opened and Captain Pellaeon appeared on the threshold, excited about something. He snapped his fingers and gave the signal to Rukh. Noghri rose silently to his feet. Gilad was confused for a moment when he saw his bodyguard walking towards him, but he immediately came to his senses and began typing something on the screen of his desk. Obviously something urgent and topical that cannot be delayed. But it will wait —I need to clarify a few more points and get our crazy Jedi in the right frame of mind.

— A couple of people,— the clone answered. —I destroyed them all.

—I had the honor and pleasure to verify your power,— I said. —Were any of them able to penetrate the mountain and do something there?

—There was one group,— C'baoth said thoughtfully. —They arrived on a shuttle and, thanks to its landing just before the entrance to the mountain, were not immediately destroyed. I found them inside the Mountain and destroyed them, but they managed to reach the Emperor's information base before I got rid of them. But,— he picked up the medallion again, —how does this question relate to Corran Horne?

—It's simple,— I allowed myself a smile. No way. But another puzzle appeared in my head and took its place. Now I have an even greater desire to avoid Palpatine. —I want to be sure that if unforeseen circumstances arise, if someone tries to disrupt your plans to restore the Jedi Order, you will not allow this to happen. So that all the work done does not go down the drain.

The clone's eyes, which until that moment seemed to be covered with a whitish veil, burned me with the cold fury of the pupils. I'm sure that if Ysalamiri weren't here right now, his iris would have already turned amber. After all, this is how the Sith manifested blind and uncontrollable rage.

—Be calm, Grand Admiral,— C'baoth said with a kind of snake hiss, without taking his eyes off me. —For too long this galaxy has lived without the Jedi in its ignorance and darkness. I will destroy anyone who stands between me and the restoration of the Jedi Order.

I averted my eyes to the side, accepting the small deck from Rukh's hands. On the screen of which only two sentences appeared: «Nemesis has arrived. Mara Jade wishes to have an audience with you».

—I willingly believe you, dear master,— it seemed that my calm words angered the mad Jedi even more, furiously clutching his medallion in his fist.

Moreover, this is exactly the reaction I was looking for.

Now he will definitely not forget to get rid of all the obstacles in his way.