Nine years, five months, and seven days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fourth year, five months, and seven days after the Great Resynchronization.
— We will be in the Tangrene system in fifteen minutes, Grand Admiral, — Captain Pellaeon, who had approached me, reported.
Settled in the command chair on the bridge of the Chimaera, I watched the numerous white and blue lights of hyperspace flash before my eyes, stroking the ysalamiri comfortably nestled in my arms.
— Understood, Captain, — I said in a calm tone. — Has there been a response from the Red Dragon?
— No, sir, — Pellaeon replied.
— Is that so? — I raised an eyebrow. — Curious. Responses from the commanders of other ships?
— Not a single one, sir, — Gilad stated. — Complete ignoring of the requests we sent. No response from the Moff of the Mordell sector either.
— Continue to maintain "yellow" alert level, — I ordered. — And send someone to our dear friend, Jedi Master. Have him come to the bridge.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon responded.
And so we fly — pleased with ourselves, battered, with a caravan of trophies behind us, not knowing what awaits us ahead. A dangerous combination, considering that I am leading this "company of interests". A being in the body of a Chiss, trying with all his might, but not even close to corresponding to the aura of the great commander Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Well, we can only hope that one of two things will happen. Scenario "Number One" — the Ubiqtorate will not try to grind us into powder in order to show who is in charge here. After all, the command of Imperial Intelligence and other intelligence agencies of the Imperial Remnant are not idiots. They will not get into a fight over my demand to the ships of their fleet. The Ubiqtorate has always cared about the good of the Empire. And staging a public inter-imperial slaughter of some forces loyal to the Empire with others is not in their style. This was the calculation when I gave Pellaeon an order for the ships based on Tangrene. The Ubiqtorate will not risk going to open confrontation. Rather, they will send someone higher than a simple coordinator to negotiate.
Scenario "Number Two". Now we will fly into orbit of Tangrene, and the ships of the fleet and everyone and everything they have are already waiting for us. And a meat grinder will begin. In which, at the moment, considering my still weak competence in the affairs of the space military fleet and the numerical superiority of the enemy, the only trump card is the notorious C'baoth. Rukh reported half an hour ago that the Master was seen wandering through the living quarters of the Chimaera. Accordingly, the old man has recovered. And, if necessary, he will be able to provide us with all possible support. In the scenarios of "a battered fleet with trophies supported by the Battle Meditation of a crazy clone Jedi" against "first-class Imperial military on ships with experienced crews", I would say that our chances are at least equal. At most — I am more confident that events will unfold according to scenario "Number One".
— I am not your obedient puppet, Grand Admiral, — the thunderous, but slightly shrill voice of the aforementioned Jedi Master sounded, appearing from the turbolift of the Chimaera. — And I am not obliged to appear at your first request, like a naughty Padawan!
Silence hung in the command bridge. The undisguised challenge that the clone was throwing at me cannot go unnoticed. I need C'baoth to coordinate the military, whose professionalism has significantly suffered. But it is also impossible to allow him to cross the line — especially in the presence of my subordinates. This undermines my own authority in the first place. And this is — unacceptable.
Turning my command chair towards C'baoth striding towards me, I fixed my gaze on his eyes. Simple human eyes, shining with madness. I noted how Rukh, sitting on his haunches a few meters from me, in the shadow of the bulkhead, tensed up.
— Master C'baoth, — I greeted the "dear guest". — I am glad that you responded to my invitation to join me on the bridge. However, I find that you have been excessively hot-tempered lately.
The clone approached me closely, looking down at me as if crushing with the authority of his senile carcass.
— Where is my Jedi, Grand Admiral? — hissing, like a creeping poisonous viper, he demandingly asked. — I helped you in the Dafilvean Sector! Where. Is. My. Jedi.
— You do not need to try to practice your imperious tone on me, Master, — I calmly noted. — I am not your student. And you are not my master. We are partners. And do not forget about it. If you try to undermine my authority again, addressing me with inappropriate intonations...
— And what will you do, Admiral? — the Jedi Master laughed mockingly into his beard. — I have been in the minds of your people. One wish of mine — and I will take control of your entire team!
And this is already unforgivable.
— Well, go ahead, Jedi Master, — I said easily in the same indifferent tone, as if my knees were not trembling at the very prospect of such actions. — Your control requires immobility. As well as great physical and mental strength, which makes you defenseless. In the time it takes you to fall into your meditative trance, Captain Pellaeon, — Gilad, standing next to my command chair, swallowed напряжённо, — will have time to go to the nearest armory five times for a sidearm and shoot you like an old bantha. But he will not kill you — instead, he will shoot you in the arms and legs so that the pain does not allow you to further interfere with my plans. And after that, we will throw you out of the nearest emergency airlock to the bridge. Captain Pellaeon, — I addressed the commander of the Chimaera. — What do you think will happen to a person who finds himself outside a starship in hyperspace?
— It is not exactly known, sir, — Gilad did not let me down. — But I am sure that his suffering will be many times greater than if he left the board of my Star Destroyer, intending to take a walk in a vacuum without a spacesuit.
C'baoth's fighting spirit instantly evaporated. The old man clearly panicked, feverishly looking for the talisman hanging on his chest. And only after it was in his hands, did the clone feel safe.
— You will not do this, — he confidently stated to me. — I am needed for you to coordinate your bunglers! Without me, all your plans for the restoration of the Empire will go to dust.
— You are mistaken, C'baoth, — I said firmly. — Without you, my plans will only be briefly slowed down by the need to conduct more training with the ships' crews. But you are not able to disrupt them. You are not in your possessions to behave as you please. You are on board a ship that is subordinate to me. And you are not allowed to behave arrogantly towards any of my subordinates. Therefore, I offer you a choice — either you keep yourself in check and behave as befits an ally, or — airlock, vacuum and not the most pleasant impressions from the cooling of your body in interstellar space.
The old man was silent, chewing his lips. He was doing it furiously, perfectly understanding that he had been given an ultimatum. His behavior is unacceptable. And he has just been made aware of this.
— Fine, — he finally said. — I am not a fool, Admiral, I understood your words.
— If you were a fool, you would not have understood, — I confirmed. — Let's assume that you will still remember good manners and will behave accordingly. After all, you are the leader of the future Jedi Order. And they will judge by you what the new defenders of the galaxy will be like. Do I need to remind you what happened to arrogant snobs who do not respect anyone but themselves?
Of course, I was embellishing. I hyperbolized the widespread opinion about the Jedi, formed by the Imperials over the past quarter of a century, so much that even I felt silly myself. No, I respect the Jedi. The Jedi of the past. Yes, they had blunders, but on the whole they were generally not bad guys. For the most part. But for some reason it was this subject who survived from them.
— I perfectly remember the history of the Jedi Order, — C'baoth snorted. Judging by the contempt with which he spoke of "his" brethren, his brains are clearly filled with Imperial propaganda. Or did he adhere to such views even before his cloning? — So why did you need me?
— First of all, to inform you — my plan regarding Corran Horn has begun its implementation. Our spies report that he, as part of Rogue Squadron, is heading to the Dafilvean Sector to investigate everything that happened there.
Information obtained thanks to the actions of "Source Delta". As well as a number of other undoubtedly important pieces of information. Which no one else needs to know about except me.
— Excellent, — C'baoth smiled. — So, you will soon deliver him to me?
— Patience, my dear ally, — I asked. — First, we need to weave a suitable web of clues along which Horn will go to meet you.
— Then why am I here? — the Jedi Master inquired with a degree of irritation.
— We are arriving in the Tangrene system, — I explained. — The local command probably decided to go into conflict with me. If it comes to a fight, then I would like you to help our troops through your coordination.
— Are you unleashing a small civil war, Grand Admiral? — the clone Jedi's eyes flashed.
— I intend to avoid it with all my might, — I stated. — But if they leave me no other choice...
— I understand you, — he said, looking around the bridge. — Can I settle down somewhere in comfort? The previous use of Battle Meditation was not particularly pleasant.
— Of course, — I stated. — Captain Pellaeon, find a more comfortable chair for our dear ally.
— Yes, sir, — the commander of the Chimaera said cheerfully.
Having got a quite comfortable command chair at his disposal, the Jedi Master sat down in it, fussed about, settling more comfortably, after which, folding his arms on his chest, he seemed to doze off.
— Sir, — Pellaeon said quietly, leaning towards my ear. — Are you sure that this... sentient, will continue to comply with the terms of the agreements?
— In this galaxy, you cannot be sure of anything, — I stated. — Especially — in dark Jedi.
Stroking the ysalamiri, I added, taking advantage of the fact that C'baoth could not physically hear us, and with the help of the Force he could not achieve any result due to the blocking of his abilities:
— We need him — for some time. After that, we will get rid of him and will not waste any more time.
— As you order, sir, — the commander of the Chimaera replied. — Thirty seconds until exiting hyperspace.
— Excellent, — I replied. — Make sure everything is ready to meet our dear allies.
After the measured number of seconds, when the hyperspace tunnel broke up into streaks of light, drawn into sparks of stars, I realized that I had been sitting holding my breath all this time.
And only after hearing Pellaeon's report did I cautiously allow myself to exhale. It seems the Ubiqtorate chose the third, unforeseen by me, scenario of events.
They fled, abandoning Tangrene.
I calmly listened to the report of the commander of the Chimaera.
— Jump completed. All ships of the fleet have arrived in the system, no lost or lagging ones were detected, — he said. Yes, despite the fact that the galaxy has been using hyperdrives for many thousands of years, there are still cases of losing one or two ships during such long — through dozens of sectors — transitions. Someone goes off course due to a breakdown of the navigation engine, someone due to overlays in the hyperdrive... The reasons can be completely different. But the fact remains — today we have arrived at our destination. All of us. And even in one piece. — A Victory I-class Star Destroyer — Crusader — is recorded in orbit. Captain I-Gor sent us a welcoming message and congratulates us on our victory in the Dafilvean Sector.
"Really?", I mentally smirked. Interesting...
— Contact Captain I-Gor, — I ordered. — In three hours, I expect him on board the Chimaera. Send an invitation to the Moff for a meeting in... — quickly calculated in my mind how much time it would take for organizational activities and gathering information about what had generally happened here, — two hours.
Not a single ship, except for a few completely ridiculous orbital boats, which even an armed freighter will not detain. And where did that "wealth" I was counting on disappear to?!
— The shipyard is broadcasting a message that they are ready to receive damaged ships, — Pellaeon continued to read out the summary of reports.
— Issue orders regarding this, — I ordered. — Only those ships whose repairs we cannot carry out without this should go to the docks. For the rest — allocate an orbit patrol schedule. Send spy droids throughout the Tangrene system and to the nearest ones. We need full control over everything that is happening here.
— Sir, — Pellaeon said cautiously. — The Ubiqtorate may not understand the reasons for our actions and...
— The Ubiqtorate will not take any action against what we will do in Tangrene, — I voiced my assumptions. — Don't you see, Captain? The fleet has left orbit. Most likely immediately after I demanded their actual joining our operations.
— And this means... — Pellaeon began to guess.
— This means that Imperial Intelligence has made its move, — I sighed. — Rejoice, Captain. One headache has become less.
On the face of the commander of the Chimaera, only one expression could be read: "Or more?"
— Sir, — Lieutenant Tshell, who had approached, addressed Pellaeon. — A Lambda-class shuttle is approaching the Chimaera. They are transmitting Imperial Intelligence identification codes. Valid codes. What are your orders?
Pellaeon looked at me expectantly.
— Allow them to land, — was my order. — Remove all personnel from the hangar and send a company of stormtroopers there. Disarm the guests and take them into custody. Deliver the senior one in their mission to the flight crew briefing room. Execute, Lieutenant Tshell!
— Yes, sir! — the young Imperial blurted out with youthful enthusiasm and rushed to the console to transmit my orders to the team.
— Let's go, Captain, — I ordered. — Let's see what the renegades from Imperial Intelligence want to talk to us about.
Getting up from the command chair, holding the ysalamiri in my arms, I headed towards the exit.
Passing by C'baoth sitting in the same position, I mentally smirked.
The old clone was sleeping in the chair, blissfully smiling.
***
— Your cabin, Mistress Jade, — the commander of the Nemesis pointed the red-haired beauty to the Captain's quarters.
— As far as I remember — this part of the living section belongs to the commander of the Imperial Star Destroyer, — Mara Jade said doubtfully, glancing at the four stormtroopers in snow-white armor standing behind the commander of the Nemesis. — Or, Captain von Schneider, do you think that I will be less comfortable somewhere in a free cabin?
Commander ISD Nemesis Captain von Schneider.
— I believe that in the Captain's cabin, such a high guest will be more comfortable to wait out our flight to the base, — the officer replied dryly.
"And also because it is easiest to guard," Mara understood. Estimating the plan of the residential part of the Imperial Star Destroyer's superstructure, she realized that her memory did not fail her. Indeed, there is only one way out from here — through the main entrance. And "boys in white" will stand here. Who also have ysalamiri cages available. It seems Thrawn, in his favorite measure, insures a plan with a plan in a plan.
Or he does not fully trust her. However, if she were in the Grand Admiral's place and faced a similar situation — the return of the Hand of the Emperor — she would also take several precautions. Who knows what to expect from someone who for more than five years pretended that she never existed, and even collaborated with smugglers who associate with enemies of the Empire.
— Thank you for your kind words, Captain Schneider, — she smirked. — As I understand it, you will not tell me the place where we are flying?
— I do not have such an opportunity, Mistress Jade, — the officer admitted. — I apologize, but this is the order.
Whose exactly — there is no need to specify. There are not so many ranks and people in the Empire who can order the commander of a Star Destroyer to fly halfway across the galaxy for one single person. But Thrawn had such authority.
However, she could satisfy her curiosity in a completely different way. You just need to be alone and find any console.
— But at least can I inquire — when are we departing? — she asked.
— In fifteen minutes, — the ship's commander baffled her.
— How is that? — it was unusual for the girl to feel herself in the role of someone who does not understand. — Will you not be picking up the cargo left at the base?
— No, Mistress Jade, — von Schneider answered just as simply.
— Well, in general, this base and its contents were presented to me as "severance pay" upon dismissal from my last job, — she squinted. — You can say that this is my personal property. Which I would like to present to the Grand Admiral as a contribution to our future common cause.
— As you say, Mistress Jade, — the commander of the Nemesis was clearly bored of having casual conversations with her. — But not a single item will be brought on board my Star Destroyer before it is searched by our specialists.
— But... — are they really afraid that somewhere in these boxes there may be tracking devices or bombs? However, one cannot exclude this either — during her stay on the planet Myrkr, she did not have time to completely search everything that she got. Talon "Claw" Karrde, if he is inferior to Thrawn in the field of ingenuity and tactical skill, then only slightly. And therefore, it would be nice to really scan and double-check the things left on the planet before dragging them into Thrawn's secret lair. It seems she has not yet moved away from the concept that assumed that "Claw" can be trusted. Well, she will cope with this quite quickly — definitely before the end of the flight.
— Such is the order, Mistress Jade, — von Schneider snapped in an icy tone. — If you are finished with questions, miss, please proceed to your cabin and stay in it until the end of the flight. These stormtroopers, — he nodded towards the four fighters, — will guard the entrance to the cabin so that none of the crew members can even accidentally meet you.
"Uh-huh," — gloomy thoughts swirled in Mara's head. — "First they delivered me on board in a black robe so that there was no way to know, now they are putting me under lock and key, seemingly with good intentions. And then what? Will they implant a transmitter under my skin? Or a radioactive tag to make it easier to track?"
— I understand everything perfectly, Captain Schneider, — the girl easily turned towards the door. The metal plate with a light hiss went into the groove inside the wall, letting the red-haired beauty inside the once captain's apartments. — I hope I will not have to bother you with requests.
— I would be grateful to you for this, Mistress Jade, — the officer saluted her, turned sharply on his heels and strode away.
The girl, chuckling, rewarded the stormtroopers with an intelligent and evaluating gaze. The four fighters awarded her with an absolutely neutral turn of their heads in her direction. Not the slightest desire to fall to their knees and confess their sins, or to line up at attention! so that it would be possible to measure the position of their bodies with measuring instruments, as is done by instructors on Carida...
Yeah, right. Maybe the Empire remained the same, but the role and powers of the Hand of the Emperor have already been forgotten in it. Otherwise, even having a priority order, von Schneider would not have dared to simply put her under arrest for the duration of the flight. However, what powers of the Hand of the Emperor can we talk about if the Emperor himself is no longer alive? It remains only to yearn for the past, indulging in memories during the flight...
Well, it will be possible to figure everything out in a few minutes. It remains to find a console, and through it, with the help of several special codes that allowed the Emperor's agents to directly interact with the central computer in order to obtain the necessary information.
Actually, something similar should have happened now, but...
Mara looked with irony at the terminal installed in the Captain's cabin. She pressed the buttons in the hope that the device would come to life. As the first time, nothing happened.
The girl grinned. Simple, but tasteful.
Either Thrawn could guess something, and therefore isolated her where there was not the slightest way to get to the ship's electronics, or Captain von Schneider himself showed this initiative.
One way or another, but she was unequivocally offered not to interfere in matters that are not her business and to rest peacefully until the Nemesis delivers her to her destination.
Well, for a start, it is worth trying other ways to restore the operation of the panel. If it does not work out, then yes, of course, she will stop разбирать [disassembling] the Imperial Star Destroyer piece by piece. But from this failure she will have even more questions for Thrawn.
Sighing, the girl pulled a thin metal needle out of the standing collar of her jumpsuit and began to pick at the technical hatch of the non-working panel with it.
***
So that's what it is...
I examined the relatively young man sitting opposite me.
Sergius, as he introduced himself. Ubiqtorate Coordinator in the Mordhstain Sector.
In the recent past — Imperial Intelligence operative.
And now he is offering me his help. At the same time sharing the secrets of his superiors.
And the secrets, I must say, are not the simplest.
— So, the Ubiqtorate has sided with Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, — I summarized everything said, not taking my eyes off the young man. He only nodded affirmatively. Laconic, I must give him credit.
And also — focused, reasonably tense and for a second does not try to stop trying to analyze me. A dangerous sentient. With him, as with everyone else, you will have to keep your ear to the ground. Temporarily or permanently — a separate question.
— Thank you, Bravo-2, for the detailed story, — I said slowly.
And I really do not like what is happening. If the leadership of all, without exception, intelligence organizations of the Imperial Remnant decided to choose Grand Moff as their favorite, then they are not helpers to me. Although it should be given credit — the Ubiqtorate, although it "waved goodbye to me", left a lot of useful things.
A whole legion of stormtroopers on the surface of Tangrene. And this is already not a little — at least one of the fifteen garrisons remained in place. And... this is not enough to protect the planet in case of a full-scale attack with a subsequent landing of troops.
Insanely little, considering how important a target Tangrene is.
This is not just a base abandoned by the Ubiqtorate. This is not just hundreds of production facilities located on the planet and allowing the second-class orbital repair dock, drifting in orbit of this world, to carry out its work.
It is also warehouses of military property — uniforms, food, medicines, spare parts, fuels and lubricants, not to mention weapons and armored vehicles. Unfortunately, at the moment it is empty there. There is nothing — the intelligence officers swept everything clean that was not related to the management of the legion they left on the surface of the planet.
I will not say that the actions of the Ubiqtorate, which actually bled the planet's defense systems, напрягли [strained] me greatly — after all, the number of garrisons, somehow or other, but we will restore with the help of Spaarti cloning cylinders.
But what is important now is something else.
In my, and only my, possession at the moment there is a whole, fully functioning, adapted for repair and production of ships orbital shipyard of type II.
This is really a gift, for the sake of which it will be possible to forget about all the dirty tricks with which the Ubiqtorate "gifted me in addition".
So, what exactly did I get at my disposal?
Produced by Kuat Drive Yards, this shipyard, of which there were quite a few scattered throughout the Empire (in the distant past, of course), was a structure similar to one side of a Rubik's cube. Nine almost square cells located in one plane. A ship the size of a Star Destroyer can be placed in each such cell. But!
Imperial II-type Orbital Shipyard.
Only the central one was a "closed" cell, that is, having all four faces in the plane. All the others did not have one "face" — the one that faces the outside of the section.
Given that the Imperial rules of ship repair and construction assumed that the ship should be placed in the dock parallel to the "faces" of the shipyard, as well as secured with connecting sleeves and special sliding rods for fixation in one position, Imperial workers more than once and not twice used this approach to repairing larger ships of the Imperial fleet, such as "partial" placement of the ship inside the "cell". An external one, of course. Not to mention the fact that if it was necessary to repair ships whose dimensions exceeded the size of the "cell", such a starship was taken outside the shipyard, docked to its outer faces and repairs were carried out in this position.
And I must say that at the moment I was in euphoria.
Yes, I will have to fork out in order to maintain this shipyard. Since it was previously at the disposal of the Ubiqtorate, the Imperial Ruling Council did not consider it necessary to include the costs of maintaining the planet in its budget. After all, the intelligence officers themselves are able to take care of themselves, aren't they?
So, a preliminary conversation with representatives of the Imperial Ruling Council regarding the issue of subordination of the shipyard and base on Tangrene, left me very satisfied.
The base, the shipyard and even the notorious Victory-class Star Destroyer — are mine. Under my command. As well as the legion of stormtroopers, the administration and the Moff himself, who governs the sector — after all, in essence, in this sector, nothing but Tangrene was of any great interest to the Empire. Okay, so be it.
But this shipyard... a real treasure. And I rejoiced at it like a boy! Although I understood that in addition to the positive aspects, there are also many negative ones in the current situation. But, first things first.
Equipped with a fourth-class hyperdrive and related equipment, it could be moved to any part of the galaxy. Maybe not as fast as, for example, the same Star Destroyer, but still! The shipyards of Sluis Van, Bilbringi and the same Kuat do not have this capability — they are stationary, if this term can be applied to three-dimensional outer space. Consequently, the shipyard can be "hidden" at any moment wherever I need it.
The number of personnel is just over four thousand qualified Imperial workers, who have already begun inspecting the Star Destroyers of my fleet. As security forces and in case of repelling an attack, two hundred stormtroopers are stationed at the shipyard. Not enough, of course, to protect such an important object, but after all, there used to be a whole fleet here and no one asked unnecessary questions. Now the situation has changed and now I will have to take care of the shipyard's security. If the Golan II-class defense station captured from the New Republic still gets here, it will become a truly valuable help. So significant that it is difficult to overestimate.
So, I have a personal base with shipyards subordinate to me, where I can do exactly what I want.
Not to mention that the shipyard has one excellent invention — a crystalline gravity grid. With the help of which it is possible to determine the location of an object camouflaged by a cloaking device. In the events known to me, it was for these reasons that the rebels attacked the Bilbringi shipyards — there is also such equipment there.
But there are also negative points. Where would we be without them.
The shipyard is not able to fully operate without three main attributes — qualified personnel, a resource base and spare parts.
There were workers at the shipyard and they were not going to go anywhere — after all, they are comfortable here and their work is paid for. No one wants to lose a warm place because of the boss's whims. However, questions will soon creep in — if the Ubiqtorate has left, then who will now pay their salaries? Unfortunately, no one in the Empire will break their backs for "thank you" and a kind smile. And forcing someone to do something in the absence of such a desire is more expensive for oneself.
It is clear that I will have to take over the financing of the base. From my meager budget. The Imperial Ruling Council has already, in principle, "pleased" me with the news that, with all their desire, they cannot allocate additional funds — they themselves, they say, will have little. I was very opaquely hinted that even the Imperial I-class Star Destroyer promised to me, which is being completed at the Bilbringi shipyards, may be useful to them elsewhere. Like, I somehow coped with the forces I have.
So, I have a little more than fifty million Imperial credits left. This is bad.
But even worse is that Tangrene does not have its own base for the production of fighters and interceptors — completely different enterprises are engaged in this. And this is bad. I will have to look for "outlets" to the manufacturer to replenish the battered air fleet. Not to mention that two squadrons of TIE fighters based on the surface are just a laughingstock for a bantha, and not protection.
Tangrene does not have its own raw material base — if they can produce armor and deck plates, as well as a number of other ship structures in foundries on the surface of the planet, then raw materials are needed for this. Ore. Which the Ubiqtorate previously supplied to them in small volumes — in case of repairs. Where they bought it, from whom — it is not clear. Without ore, there will be no even minimal production. No production — no repairs. No repairs — delays in the entry into service of ships.
A small supply of spare parts for a number of ships in the shipyards and ship warehouses of Tangrene was still available — but after the upcoming repairs, the warehouse will be empty. New spare parts will be needed — you can't fight without them. And rushing to Bilbringi, where all this is, is somehow not desirable.
Well, the problem can be partially solved by sending a caravan of Star Galleons there accompanied by warships and requesting the necessary parts. But we still won't get much — other Imperial fleets also need repairs. And no quartermaster likes to spend stocks from warehouses — of course, if it does not fill his own pocket.
Dry summary — my fleet has been replenished with a Star Destroyer, I have a mobile space shipyard that can not only repair, but also build ships, but I have problems with funding, problems with resources, problems with the Ubiqtorate.
Because I will never believe that they "left" just like that.
— Why did you tell me all this, Coordinator Sergius? — I asked, looking at Captain Pellaeon sitting next to me.
Distrust of our guest was literally blowing from Gilad. And this is not surprising — Imperial Security Bureau and Imperial Intelligence are so "loved" among the army and fleet of the Empire that nothing else should have been expected.
However, now I was more interested in the motives of this man. As well as the Imperial Intelligence militants who arrived with him on the shuttle. Sergius said directly — he continues to be the Ubiqtorate coordinator in the sector. No one deprived him of this title. Then for what reason did he come and dump information in front of me that the Ubiqtorate had defected? After all, even the Imperial Ruling Council believes that the intelligence officers' leadership preferred to "concede" Tangrene to me as a rear base of the fleet, and to remain "mobile" in order to prevent new attacks on their bases. Sounds reasonable — especially for members of the Council, busy with their own behind-the-scenes struggle.
— I do not want to be expendable, Grand Admiral, — the man simply answered, carefully watching my reaction. — The Ubiqtorate left the Imperial Remnant, moving to the Pentastar Alignment. We — operatives and coordinators, were actually left here, abandoned. This is not how you should behave with those who faithfully serve the Empire.
— As if if you were in their place, you would have acted differently, — Pellaeon muttered sent a request for the allocation of Imperial agents to you. The Ubiqtorate refused you. I do not think that your need for professional spies has immediately been leveled out.
— My needs are not the point, — I noted. — The question is your loyalty, Coordinator. The Ubiqtorate never leaves behind anything, even a little, that could harm it. But they left you and a group of operatives. Nontrivial behavior, raising more questions than answers.
— I agree, it looks like an attempt to introduce their people to you, — Sergius bluntly voiced what was on my tongue. — Moreover, I will say — the Ubiqtorate requires me to provide them with information about Imperial officers who have expressed a desire to serve under your command. Given that all orders for согласование [coordination] of transfers will pass through encryption and decryption means, it is easy for them to receive such information on their own. From anywhere in the galaxy, from any Imperial Remnant.
— Thus, do you believe that you were given an "empty" task only in order to pretend to continue your service? — I clarified.
— Exactly, — the intelligence officer agreed. — "Do what you did, but don't get under your feet." The easiest way to "softly" get rid of an undesirable agent.
— Let's assume, — I nodded almost imperceptibly. — But to what extent can you and your operatives be trusted?
— To the extent that the Ubiqtorate does not know about your request to the Imperial archives regarding the army and equipment of the separatists, — Sergius unexpectedly said. — All your requests to the archives passed through repeaters in the Mordell sector. Accordingly, I sent information to the Ubiqtorate. But when I realized that my leadership intended to play their own game, I stopped doing this. They do not know either that you were interested in the personal affairs of General Maximilian Veers, or about your requests regarding buzz droids and much more.
And these are not the best surprises. I would even say — absolutely not good. Look, even Pellaeon is looking at me with interest. Another puncture. Rukh alone does not care about everything.
— Suppose, — I did not even try to explain myself in any way. In such a situation, any phrase of justification will sound ridiculous. A Grand Admiral with the powers of the Supreme Commander should not explain the reason for his actions. — In summary, you are offering to actually work for me. This may raise a number of questions. Including from the Imperial Ruling Council. Commanders do not gather teams of spies.
— In our time, everyone gathers suitable allies for themselves, — Sergius noted. — Grand Moff Ardus Kaine is no exception. So under a single command.
I will not say that I was greatly surprised — this part of the reverse side of the Ruling Council's activity has long been known. They need someone who will solve problems — especially since they have already proved their incompetence in the military field. Consequently, the decision is not so desperate. You can even say — pragmatic. And if I did not remember, albeit without names, but clearly, that some of the members of the Imperial Ruling Council would literally be on the side of the Reborn Emperor Palpatine in a year — perhaps I would even actively try to find common ground with them.
Now, however... searching for allies and like-minded people among the advisers is a waste of time. And besides — it may inadvertently reveal my true plans. And then certainly do not avoid trouble. It is not for this that I squirm like a snake in search of everything valuable that can be snatched and carried away, so that at least a small part does not go to Palpatine. Or the New Republic. No, all this will be useful to me. Now or later — but I will take these "charms" only for myself.
— No, you will not surprise me, — I said calmly. Pellaeon's eyes even widened. And he can be understood. When your boss, albeit cold-blooded, and pragmatically phlegmatic to the bone, is offered to become the ruler of an interstellar state, and he is still as calm as if he were informed about the completion of the cleaning of the nozzles of a Star Destroyer — willy-nilly you will look at the commander incredulously. Is he in his right mind? — The decision is logical. As I understand it, my candidacy is not the only one for the throne?
— There are many contenders, — Sergius said. — But you and Grand Moff Kaine are first in line.
— Understood, — I said. — Well, let's move on to more important matters... Captain, are you alright?
Pellaeon, clearing his throat, nodded, they say, don't pay attention to me, you might think someone has more important things to do than to lead a disunited Empire. Well, who hasn't?
— Are you ready to serve me? — I clarified with the Imperial agent. He, barely noticeably squinting, perfectly understood the background of the question. It is quite likely that serving the Empire and serving the Grand Admiral are not quite identical concepts. And here you should choose correctly, thinking everything over, weighing the "pros" and "cons"...
— Yes, — it seems my eye twitched. Just like that? A hasty decision or... Yes, most likely "or". The intelligence officer was probably preparing for something like this before talking to me. And therefore, the question did not catch him by surprise. — I and the agents subordinate to me are ready to fulfill your will, Grand Admiral.
— A wise choice, — I appreciated. — Your determination will be appreciated. However, we have a lot of work ahead. The first thing I would like to hear from you is information about the Moff of the Morshdain Sector and about the personality of the commander of the Star Destroyer that remained in orbit of Tangrene after the Ubiqtorate fled. Their personal characteristics, degree of loyalty, reliability and competence. I am sure that it will not be difficult for you to rummage through your memory and recall the old reports that you previously wrote to your superiors...
***
— Well, — I said, summing up the meeting. — You and your people have four hours to prepare for the mission.
— What is our goal? — Bravo-2 inquired in a dry professional tone.
— Find one person for me, — I said. — You will receive his last name a little later — directly before sending on a mission. The information known to us about him is very fragmentary. A former smuggler, once commanded a ship in the gang of a man known as Joruus C'baoth. According to my information — he is currently actively interested in gambling. And he is very fond of floating gambling establishments.
— Alive or dead? — Sergius clarified.
— Exclusively alive, — I said. — Consider this task a test of your professional suitability.
— Task understood, Grand Admiral, — the Ubiqtorate Coordinator replied with a serious face. — Are there any restrictions on the time frame for the operation?
— No later than in two weeks he should be before my eyes, — I clarified this issue as well.
— Will be done, — the Imperial intelligence officer stated. — May I go?
— Go, — I said indifferently. Watching the intelligence officer leave the room, I looked at Pellaeon.
— As I understand it, Captain, — I said after Sergius left the compartment, — you have questions?
— Yes, sir, — the commander of the Chimaera nodded affirmatively. — Are you sure that this "Ubiqtorate guy" can be trusted?
— That's what we're going to find out, — I stated, looking at the chronometer. — In an hour I have the first meeting, in two — the second.
— With the Moff and Captain I-Gor, — Pellaeon said. — Sir, to be honest, I can't understand why you were interested in the opinion of this intelligence officer regarding the personalities of these people. Is it possible to trust the words of a Ubiqtorate person?
— Not for a moment, — I stated. — However, it is worth giving him a chance. Coordinator Sergius expressed a desire to serve our cause. пока [While] there are no objective grounds to believe that he is a liar — we will not make accusations and get rid of this kind of help. On the contrary — we will give him a chance to prove his loyalty. For example — by checking his assessment given to other sentients during the upcoming meetings.
Pellaeon, having listened to the answer, wrinkled his face, clearly out of annoyance at his hasty statement, and nodded understandingly. It seems he could not overcome his prejudice against Imperial Intelligence in any way, and therefore decided that I believed someone's word.
— Have you received information about how quickly the shipyards will repair the damage to our ships? — I inquired.
— Within two to four weeks, all ships will leave the docks, sir, — the Star Destroyer commander reported. — The Chimaera will be ready for battle in three days, the Death's Head and the Imperious — in another day, the rest of the starships will leave the repair shops in a week. Repairs will cost about half a million credits for all ships, but this will empty almost all of Tangrene's warehouses. After the next battle, we will no longer have spare parts on hand for quick repairs.
— Order to send a caravan of Star Galleons to the Bilbringi shipyards, — I ordered. — We need spare parts, we need fighters, interceptors, bombers — any resources that will allow our fleet to carry out repairs in one place — here. As soon as the orbital defense station and the ships that Messrs. Ferrier and Vein will deliver to us arrive, we will have no problems with the organization of both patrolling and further offensive.
— Sir, maybe then we should also ferry over the captured freighters from Bilbringi? — he clarified. — As well as experiments with a cloaking field...
— There is no need for this, Captain, — I stated. — We will not put all our advantages in one place, — I almost uttered a painfully familiar phrase about eggs and a basket. — Especially since there will be not a little work for the shipyard employees here anyway, so that they are also distracted by third-party projects. Are the cargo holds of the Death's Head and Imperious emptied of their asteroid cargo?
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon said. — Standard procedure requires unloading ammunition, military equipment and ground contingent from the ship, along with the crew, except for the watch, for the duration of repairs.
— I remember the standard procedures, Captain, — my head will soon ache from them. — But I was much more interested in how accurately they are followed by the workers at the shipyard. During the time that they were under the control of the Ubiqtorate, drastic changes could have occurred in human psychology regarding attitudes towards the execution of orders. Order our technical teams to remain on the ships and, in addition to their main work — helping to repair damage, also monitor the actions of workers. Rebels really like to destroy or capture our ships during repairs.
— Sir, isn't this requirement excessive? — Pellaeon clarified. — Crews have never repaired their ships at shipyards. This contradicts traditions and procedures adopted in the fleet...
— It seems you did not understand, Captain, — I sighed. — Traditions and prescriptions are useful when they are not harmful. Waiting from two to four weeks for the fleet's ships to enter service is clearly not part of my plans. We have other strategic tasks. And therefore — crews will take part in the restoration work.
— I understand you, sir, — from Pellaeon's face it was clear that he did not really approve of my decision, but he would not object either.
— That's good, — I said, looking at the chronometer. — At this, I will no longer detain you, Captain.
What you can't take away from Pellaeon is that he is not at all stupid and perfectly understood that the conversation with the Moff and the commander of our brand new Victory-class will take place without his participation.
Having watched the commander of the Chimaera leave the compartment, I looked at the chronometer again. There was not so much time left before the meeting with the Moff, but enough to summarize the events of today.
And to lay out in my brains the "crutches" of the conversations ahead of me.
The longer I live in the skin of a Grand Admiral, the more new and interesting things I learn.
Life definitely did not prepare me for this.
***
From the meeting with the Moff, in general, I had only positive impressions.
A middle-aged man, clearly not in favor with the big bosses, since he ruled an absolutely non-industrialized sector. It's even strange that the sector was once under the control of Zsinj. This guy never sought to keep parasites around him.
However, the content of the conversation clarified a lot.
Firstly, the Moff who is sitting in front of me is not the same Moff who oversaw the development of the planet, but his successor. Consequently, the genocide of the local population was arranged not by this sentient at all. Not that I am catastrophically against genocides — but this is an extreme measure. Redundant, I would even say.
Secondly, I was not mistaken that Zsinj still did not just subjugate this sector. It once included the planet Vandin — a rich and industrialized world. Which was taken over by the Syutric Hegemony. And they were not going to give it back, of course. And the Imperial Ruling Council did not dare to rearrange power because the ruler of the Hegemony — Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel — was quite a constructive and far-sighted ally.
The second-class orbital repair dock went to the new Tangrene authorities also from Zsinj. As well as warehouses full of all sorts of goods. Which are no longer there now. A fleet of more than one and a half dozen Star Destroyers of various types is also the legacy of the Warlord. As well as garrisons on the planet...
In general, it becomes clear why the Ubiqtorate decided to settle here. Not only did they get a fortress planet after the defeat of Zsinj, but also a fleet, a shipyard, and a not a little number of soldiers. Leaving Tangrene, the intelligence officers left on the planet only what they could not drag away with them. Yes, as it turns out, the orbital shipyard is also not very functional — the hyperdrive on it is some special, non-standard ship one. And it is damaged. Repairing or buying a new one will result in large amounts of credits.
The Ubiqtorate fleet replenished its rare losses by providing assistance with resources and equipment from the Syutric Hegemony. This is understandable — no one from the Imperial Remnants was in a hurry to cross the road of the omnipotent Imperial Intelligence. Everyone had enough common sense not to poke a red-hot poker into a dozing bear. Well, what's done is done.
But, despite everything, the Moff declared his loyalty and readiness to help in every way he could. The Imperial Remnant does not provide him with money and forces for defense, without the Ubiqtorate the actual value of Tangrene is close to zero. Therefore, he perceived the appearance of my fleet almost as the second coming of the Emperor.
His behavior and qualities that manifested themselves during the conversation completely coincided with what Coordinator Sergius told me.
Decisive, brave, moderately ambitious. He does not like to fawn over his superiors, straightforward. Fundamentally disappointed in the current situation of the Empire. And he pins great hopes on the restoration of the former order.
This person has connections in some worlds of the sector, so he will be able to provide relatively small supplies of food. He has no access to the black market, but he is well aware that the planet Camden, which is part of his sector, operates almost the only civilian spaceport in the entire sector called Serpent's Eye. Smugglers and other unpleasant entities often hang out there. The Ubiqtorate considered it below their dignity to meddle there to restore order, especially since the planet provides the sector with some, but денежные [monetary] revenues. They were not going to interfere in the affairs of the black market, obviously satisfied with the fact that they have a certain percentage of illegal transactions. Once or twice Star Destroyers from Tangrene were sent to Camden to restore order, but in fact it resulted in the fact that they eliminated their competitors for one side of the black market. The annual turnover of the sector from incoming taxes is just over five million credits.
There is an expression "Hug and cry". It was at this moment that I realized how bad everything was.
Even the joy of finding the long-awaited rear and repair base has already faded. There are so many problems here that it will take a huge amount of time to restore order. The Moff practically has nothing to clamp down on crime, which may get angry and take revenge properly. Until recently, they were afraid to touch the planet itself, but now that the Ubiqtorate is gone — one careless move and all the rabble from the nearest sectors will gather and spoil the blood properly.
This is unpleasant, but, however, it could have been worse.
So, I have more headaches. And besides — very, very many.
Fighting the criminal world is not convenient for me now — банально [banal]ly there will not be enough funds. And moreover, the example of Mr. Ferrier and Mr. Vein clearly shows — it is possible to negotiate. Moreover, in such a way that, in all probability, crime or at least some of its representatives will want to exchange their services for a good reward.
— Thank you for the report, Moff, — I summed up our conversation. — Your problems are clear to me, I will do everything that depends on me. But only with your full assistance to my own endeavors.
— Yes-yes, Grand Admiral, of course, — the Moff assured me, still not believing that I had not thrown everything to Hutt's grandmother and had not went to Bilbringi, where such problems were not observed.
— Ships will arrive here in the near future, — I continued. — I will allocate some of them for patrolling the sector after the repair of my fleet and the staffing of crews is completed.
— Thank you, — relief sounded in the Moff's voice.
— Also, I inform you that various kinds of personalities will appear in the system, with not the most positive past, — I added. The Moff noticeably alerted. — They receive certain tasks, and therefore — work for me. I will need help from you in restoring order with resources and reserves. Tangrene must be protected from all types of attacks.
— A large amount of equipment and personnel will be required to restore the garrison strength, — he noted.
— We will solve this problem, — I assured, realizing that the Spaarti cloning cylinders will have to work properly very soon. The first batch of clone technicians will be ready soon. And, apparently, they will transfer as crew members of new ships. And we will have to wait until the middle of this month to receive a new batch. Eh, it's a pity that there are so few clones and they are not produced at the snap of a finger. — Contact Prince-Admiral Delak other systems can provide us with food. Given the expansion of my fleet, the number of personnel is also increasing. And therefore — the need for food.
— I understand, sir, — the Moff stated. — However, I must note that this will require additional cash infusions. A significant part of the sector's income goes to pay salaries to shipyard workers and ground technical personnel of production lines. It's good that we don't have to pay any expenses for stormtroopers — otherwise I would definitely go bankrupt.
And this is not a bad idea. The Stormtrooper Corps serves the Empire not for money at all — for the idea. They, like the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic, are provided with everything necessary for military service. But monetary allowance is absent in principle. It is worth considering the idea of issuing, albeit small, but still a salary — this may encourage soldiers throughout the Imperial Remnant to join me. And not only stormtroopers, but also, perhaps, ordinary sentients.
However, as the Moff rightly noted, this requires funds. Preferably — large. Money can motivate anyone. And this money must be taken from somewhere.
— Well, Moff, — I summed up. — You are responsible for the rear support of the forces subordinate to me. I am sure that a person of your talents will be able to cope with such a task brilliantly.
— As you order, Grand Admiral, — the Moff straightened up.
— I will transfer our transport ships under your command, — I continued. — I ask you to contact your Moff colleagues to study the question: "How can they help us?". In the current situation, we are not proud — and we will accept everything that is offered to us.
— I understand this like no other, — the Moff smiled sadly.
— And that's good, — I concluded. — In that case, get to work. My starships must return to active operations in the near future. And the last thing, Moff.
— I am listening to you, Grand Admiral, — the man who had risen from the table sat down again so as not to show disrespect to me.
— Nebulon-B escort frigates, which we captured from the enemy, — I said. — To the best of your ability and opportunity, try to make them much more combat-capable ships for the Imperial Fleet. I have no great desire to see something at least remotely similar to rebel starships next to my starships.
— I understand you, sir, — after a moment's thought, the Moff said. — I think, by the time the Chimaera returns to service, the chief engineer of the shipyard will prepare suitable options.
— I am glad to hear from you the desire for further cooperation, — I said. — I will no longer detain you, you are free.
Saluting, the man left the compartment.
Sitting for a while, I looked at the calm expression on Rukh's face, pretending to be a rag by the bulkhead.
Noghri, Noghri, Noghri... what should I do with you? Where to hide these people from the Skywalker family, so as not to be afraid to use you...
Or... how to change the existing reason why the Noghri serve me, so as not to fear that the best assassins of the Empire will change sides?
Think, Grand Admiral Thrawn, think.
And remember!