Recently, I've caught myself thinking that I'm becoming fond of solitude. You sit here, no one yells in your ear, no one "stresses" you with the eternal "Victor! The Motherland is in danger!"
You can slowly put everything that has already happened or is about to happen on the shelves, reading intelligence reports, for example.
And no one will see how much my emotions differ from the reaction of the "true Thrawn." Although, the history known to me, without a doubt, is silent about how exactly the legendary Grand Admiral in the galaxy far, far away behaved when he remained "off-screen."
But now I wanted to get properly drunk. So much so that I could howl like a wolf.
It's good that no one but me can read the reports of "Source Delta". Otherwise, there would definitely be questions - why am I, in fact, doing nothing?
Because in the banal heap of routine, I missed the message that a combat group was sent from Coruscant to the Space of the Botan. Six Mark II-class attack frigates and an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. A Mark II by the way. Once called Virulence.
The same ship that played a significant role in the capture of Tyferra by the New Republic. And it was still under the command of former Imperial Captain Sair Yonka, who, along with his entire crew, had gone over to the service of the rebels. Considering that not many routes lead from Coruscant to Botawui, the capital planet of the Botans Sector, it would not have been difficult to intercept them. And dealing with six attack frigates and capturing one Star Destroyer with the forces of an entire fleet would have been easy.
However, I made a mistake - I sent a significant part of my fleet into Imperial Space. Although... yes, even if I had attacked this combat group with the forces of damaged ships, there was a chance to recapture Virulence. You don't even need to be Thrawn here - a banal advantage in the number of guns. Plus an interdictor cruiser...
In short, a very annoying missed opportunity. The Star Destroyer could have become part of the fleet completely easily and simply... Yes, my ships would have suffered significant damage and would have been repaired even longer on Tangrene, but we would have had another Star Destroyer, damn it!
Oh, may the Sith smite me on the head with something heavy, it's amazing how I had such a great...
The comlink that came to life on the cabin table tore me away from self-flagellation.
Exhaling and inhaling deeply, I tried to get rid of the negativity. Okay, what's done is done. Even if I rush to intercept them with the forces of the entire fleet right now, there is simply no chance of intercepting them. At best, we will burn fuel in vain and waste precious time.
And this will be a lesson for me in the future - you need to read the intelligence data on time, and not hope that after the turmoil I caused in the Dafilvean Sector, the future will continue to develop according to the established plot!
— Listening, — I said as calmly as possible into the communication device.
— Our new master, — Rukh's voice came from the speaker. — Mr. Ferrier is here to see you.
And that's right. I ordered not to let the hijacker go without talking to me.
— Come in, — I ordered, turning off the hologram of the galaxy and activating projections of art objects instead. It's not that I understand anything in them, but from time to time I remembered that it would be nice to correspond to the image of the "true Thrawn."
The twilight that reigned in the apartments was dispersed for a few moments by a strip of artificial light that broke through the front door.
The hijacker, nervously drooling on his foul-smelling cigar, hesitantly froze at a distance of several meters in front of me, curiously looking at the collection.
— Have you received payment for the ship, Mr. Ferrier? — I asked.
— Yes, Grand Admiral, — the puffy man grimaced as if all his teeth had suddenly ached. — It's not to say that I'm happy with this million credits...
It's not to say that I like spending money, of which I already have a small supply (and after buying ships from Yazuo Wayne, it's even less, much less!), but I have to. Without acquiring starships, I will not succeed in the matter of expanding my own fleet.
And I am extremely pleased that the forces under my command are increasing exponentially. Although so far these are just light and escort ships, but still - these are combat starships that might not have existed.
— Your grumbling interests me even less than your rudeness, Mr. Ferrier, — realizing that the hijacker did not intend to complete his thought, I replied. — You are here because there is a business proposal for you.
— Beyond the hijacking of ships? — the "Sly"'s eyes sparkled with greedy fire. — Does this mean more profit?
— Significantly higher than what you get from hijacking ships, — I remarked. — However, you should not stop supplying my fleet with Corellian starships.
— For some time, it is better for me to lie low, — the hijacker stated. — The shipyards of the Corellian Engineering Corporation are not staffed with idiots. Three hijacked starships in a short period of time is a clear indicator of a breach in security systems.
— I am not interested in the problems of your craft, Mr. Ferrier, — as they say: "A man should not complain about three things: his wife, his job, and his car - he chose them himself." Yes, of course, there will always be special cases of exceptions from this folk wisdom, however... However... This is not the time for them now. — I need your services in another direction.
— If it is in my power - any whim for your money, — the hijacker smiled.
— Well, let's see how competent you are, — a small challenge to professional pride. Let's see how he reacts to my next words and actions.
Removing the holograms of art objects, I projected a different three-dimensional copy.
— Are you familiar with this sample of technology? — I inquired.
— Well... — Ferrier hesitated. — I've heard of them. Separatist buzz droids. Saboteurs that the Confederacy of Independent Systems used to damage or destroy Republican fighters and bombers.
— Well, at least you have a minimum amount of theoretical knowledge, — I sighed. — I need a batch of similar droids.
The hijacker looked at me with the most surprised look.
— Uh... why? It's old junk... — he said uncertainly. But, running into my unyielding gaze, he became embarrassed, looking down at his feet. — They can be bought on any black market and...
It's suspicious how he averts his eyes. Like a guilty puppy. If I remember anything from the university psychology course, then such behavior may indicate fear of the interlocutor's insecurity, a desire for "seclusion." Of course, no specialist will state something like this based on meager knowledge of psychology, and without the rest of the "symptoms" that could either confirm or refute my point of view, I simply did not remember.
Well, let's start from the small and use Ferrier's weak-mindedness in relation to those who occupy a more authoritarian position in relation to his personality.
— I need these droids, — I said firmly. — At least two copies. In fully working condition.
— Yes, it's almost impossible, — Sly sighed. — These models, as well as other variants of saboteur droids, are prohibited from production and sale, — is that so? I didn't know. — If I am caught with them, a life sentence on Kessel is guaranteed! The Empire at one time almost completely killed the traders of separatist "toys", so it will be easier for you to contact...
— Stop making a comedy, Ferrier, — I demanded. — You know perfectly well where you can find working samples, but for some reason you are trying to lead me by the nose. And I don't like that very much. You have not yet been thrown into the airlock for your disgusting behavior only because you supply us with first-class ships in good technical condition, — Rukh, hearing about the possibility of dealing with someone, put his hand on his knife. — I am giving you a choice - either you will be frank with me, or your life, as well as the existence of your crew, will end today.
"Sly", who was clearly panicking at the last words, glanced around the apartments, as if looking for support.
— I'm waiting, — I had to remind him. — And I do not have patience.
— The market for saboteur droids has been under Booster Terrick for about six months now, — he finally said, looking ingratiatingly at me. — If you are talking about working droids, then you will have to contact him personally. All other traders in the galaxy, well, except for a few sentient beings, sell stale goods that are not suitable for use.
— And what is the problem of getting droids for me from Mr. Terrick? — I don't see the problem yet.
— I am with him... — the hijacker hesitated, — not in the best of relations. He will kill me faster as soon as he sees me in his field of vision.
— Candor, Ferrier, — I reminded. — You are already considered a misfit and a traitor even among your "own." The opinion of one smuggler does not decide anything.
— Oh, — "Sly" chuckled, — you don't know what you're talking about. Terrick, if he wants, will ruin everyone's life. Because of disagreements with him, I can no longer work properly - they don't trust me and try to ignore me at every step. Even among smugglers and hijackers. Hutta's professional solidarity! On the one hand, Booster has soiled all prospects, on the other, Karrde and his gang are squeezing me out! If I were in less constrained conditions, I would have long since turned around to the fullest, earned myself a hundred or two million, and sipped cocktails somewhere on the beach!
Interesting. And what exactly, I wonder, did a simple hijacker manage to hook both bigwigs of smuggling and information trade at once?
Actually, without embellishment and piety, I asked about such a reason.
— A couple of years ago, when everyone thought that Booster had died on Kessel during another "stint", I worked with his daughter - Mirax, — "Sly" said. — Then she was not yet married to Horn from the Rogue Squadron. On the contrary, she wanted to get rid of him with all her might. I helped her with this, because I had old scores with Horn - he had crossed my path more than once when he worked in the CorSec. And in the end, Terrick Sr. was extremely unhappy that I was communicating with his daughter. He was even less pissed off by Horn than me.
— You intended to gain the trust of his daughter for your craft, — I realized. — To use her authority to improve your affairs. Therefore, Booster Terrick intends to settle scores with you. Although, I am more inclined to think that you offered Miss Terrick something that made her father's pride soar.
— Yeah, — "Sly" scratched the back of his head. Clearly unhappy that he was caught lying. — You can't hide anything from you...
— I don't need your flattery, Ferrier, — I remarked. — Only frankness. What is the reason why Booster Terrick hates you?
— After the defeat of the Empire at Endor, chaos began, — the hijacker mumbled. — Several of my contracts didn't work out. I decided to fix things by smuggling. I asked Karrde to help with the orders. He gave them to me. But as it turned out, the transportation of goods for one group interfered with the interests of another - I had to give up the cargo to save my life. Karrde issued me a penalty. I covered it with several thefts, but still had debts. Slaves are always needed in the Outer Rim, so I bought a couple of hundred. To profitably attach them, I contacted Mirax Terrick. But Booster's offspring not only did not help me with finding buyers for the goods, but also "surrendered" me with all the guts to planetary governments. I had to abandon the slaves and run. I "got into" even more money. A reward has been announced for my head in a number of sectors, and until I return the debt, they will continue to hunt me. It's good that those who hired me to transport slaves are stingy enough to turn to more or less professional bounty hunters. But, one way or another, when Booster returned from Kessel a few years ago, he obviously heard rumors about my "partnership" with her daughter. Terrick got really furious. What a softie! Trading disintegrators, assassin droids, saboteur droids, and other separatist junk, carrying smuggling in the holds of a Star Destroyer, that's fine for him, but transporting slaves is something out of the ordinary!
— What is your debt at the moment? — I inquired. It's not that I was really interested, but something in his story didn't add up. This person receives good money for working for the Empire and could have settled his debts long ago, but no, he claims that he is not able. It only remains to understand where exactly he is lying. Although, considering the unflattering reputation about his person, it is better to ask: "Where exactly did he tell the truth?".
— Twenty-seven million credits in Imperial currency, — he said reluctantly. — This is taking into account the money that I have already earned from your orders.
So. Something tells me that either the batch of slaves was very large, or "Sly" is deliberately distorting the facts in his favor. Because such a huge amount cannot be formed for the transportation of even a small group of "contracted workers" - as slaves are officially called in most regions of the galaxy.
And now it's worth thinking - is there a great sense in continuing business relations with this person? He clearly has a target painted on his back. And if the story about the transportation of slaves is at least partially true, it is not surprising that he is an outcast in the eyes of the criminal community. Cooperation with him can have a deplorable effect on my own prestige. The Empire does not like criminals anyway, and especially slave traders...
And yet, something useful can be extracted from his words...
— I understand that Karrde is squeezing you out of the smuggling business at the expense of solidarity with Mr. Terrick? — I clarified. "Sly" nodded silently. He even sobbed for decency.
You would think I'm a young miss, on whom such a trick has an effect. But in the meantime, this whole situation... is quite curious.
— Okay, — after thinking for a couple of minutes, I said. — There is a way to help you. At once resolving both your problems and mine.
— Really? — Ferrier blinked. Well, my phrase made an impression on him. Now the main thing is to continue playing the person who is really interested in his problems.
Because his own problems may not be solved by the plan that has formed in my head. But some of mine - for sure. The main thing is how to properly play this game...
— Yes, — I stated, looking him confidently in the eyes. — How hostile is Mrs. Terrick to you?
— She has been "Mrs. Horn" for almost a year now, — Ferrier remarked disdainfully. Noticing my impatient gaze, the hijacker became dejected, and his eyes darted around, frantically thinking. — Well, if Booster sees me in her company, he will definitely kill me. And Mirax herself... so, it seems she went into the transportation of the legal plan. I heard that she works on her freighter for the New Republic... Well, she's such a lady, not evil, but vindictive, of course... I didn't do anything to her personally... So, what do we need her for?
— The latter is not so important, — I remarked. — As I understand it, the buzz droids at Booster Terrick are stored on his Star Destroyer?
— Well, where else, — Ferrier chuckled. — He's not Karrde, so that he just acquires bases all over the galaxy. He's a greedy person and afraid to lose everything again.
— If my memory serves me right, Mr. Terrick's ship is a partially disarmed Imperial-class Star Destroyer, — it costs nothing to play the ignorant Imperial. But it will allow Ferrier to partially assert himself.
— Yes, a two, — he flashed his knowledge. — With the help of Karrde and his manual sap from the Rogue Squadron, Wedge Antilles, he managed to tear off such a tasty piece just when they killed Isanne Isard on Tyferra...
Having said this, the hijacker looked around in fright, as if he was afraid that the "Iceheart," as the Director of Imperial Intelligence was called, would personally rise from the "dead" and strangle the foul-mouthed one.
— Since you are not on the best of terms with Mr. Terrick, — I said laconically, — why not help ensure that his ship finds a more suitable owner? After all, you could easily give us the coordinates of the location of this ship so that we can capture it. I am sure that the commission from such a deal would be generous...
"Sly" licked his chops greedily, becoming even more repulsive. Apparently, he has already thought about this more than once.
— It would be a good deal, — he agreed with bitterness. — But the problem is that Terrick is a paranoid. He thinks everyone is surely hunting for his Errant Venture. There are many who want to get a Imperial-class Star Destroyer, and even a Mark II. As far as I've heard, Booster has added a lot of gray hairs in his beard when he learned that the Empire was looking for warships. So now he is even more careful in matters of conspiracy and allowing anyone on the ship. And considering that there is not enough weapons on board this Mark II, it will not withstand a direct collision - and Booster has neglected the Star Destroyer, as I heard. But one way or another, his ship is constantly on the move, and he communicates the coordinates of places for meetings with sellers and buyers through trusted persons, which I am not, as you yourself understand, Grand Admiral.
— I understand that perfectly, — I agreed. — And at the same time, it is possible to find this ship.
— It's easier to find the Sa Nalaor than the Errant Venture! — "Sly" snorted. — There is at least some information about it...
— Sa Nalaor, — I said an unfamiliar name. — What is that?
— Uh-uh, — the hijacker "froze". — Don't you know this story?
— What? — I clarified. If I'm honest, it's the first time I've heard it at all. — What is it, Sa Nalaor?
— Oh, — Ferrier said meaningfully. — I spent a lot of credits to find this ship. A legend among treasure hunters! It is rumored that it is a Separatist frigate of the Munificent-class, which disappeared shortly before the end of the Clone Wars. There are rumors that there are treasures worth billions of credits on board, not to mention the fact that there are some super-advanced prosthetics technologies. Oh, how much money and time did sentients spend trying to find this ship! — the hijacker closed his eyes dreamily. — I myself have spent a lot of credits on its search... — his face darkened, — only to understand that it is a Hutta rumor, which has nothing to do with reality. This ship is a myth! The same myth as the discovery of the Errant Venture when Booster Terrick does not want it!
So-o-o, it seems that I understood what the hijacker is trying to say. I heard a similar story about ships in my world. With only one difference - I knew for sure that this ship exists in the reality of the galaxy far, far away. And in the near future, they will definitely get to this ship. Unless, of course, they have already laid their "grabbing hands" on its treasures. I'll have to think about this.
— We'll talk about legends some other time, — it is necessary to redirect the conversation to a more constructive direction. — I have heard that Mr. Terrick is a very exemplary family man. As far as I have heard about him, he is much more afraid of losing his daughter than his business, — Ferrier blinked several times, thinking. Then his eyes began to widen...
— No, — he said quietly and very, very uncertainly. — Booster will tear my head off. He will find me at the edge of the galaxy, rush in with his whole gang and personally tear me apart. Not to mention the fact that he will gather with him everyone he can just to deal with those who offend his daughter! To kill me!
— I hope so, Mr. Ferrier, — I allowed myself a smile that made "Sly"'s eye twitch. — And you should also think about making Booster Terrick want to kill you.
***
As soon as the entrance hatch was battened down, Eymand met him with a welcoming nod, draining a glass of amber liquid in one gulp. Corellian whiskey is the best drink in the world.
— Well, how is it there? — the zabrak asked with a slack interest.
— The privateer's license is ours, — Tiberos grinned, as if it could be otherwise. — We are departing on a free hunt, old friend.
— Not so old, — the zabrak said without malice. Bringing the comlink to his mouth, he commanded:
— Raise the ship into orbit, you striped devils. Let's go hunting.
— You knew my mother as a padawan in the Jedi Order, — the corsair reminded. — And almost thirty years have passed already.
— Oh, don't start, — the former Jedi grimaced. — Better tell me what kind of conversation you had with the Imperials.
While they were walking to the cockpit of the departing freighter, Tiberos retold everything he had discussed with the Imperial commander to his old friend and, concurrently, his first mate in his gang.
— Grand Admiral, huh? — the zabrak picked his nail between his teeth. — It smells like napalm...
— I almost went crazy myself from what was happening, — Tiberos admitted. — A blue-skinned man, and even a Grand Admiral... Where did the Empire get another "grand" from?
— Yes, after Endor, there are as many of them as uncut ribbon, — the zabrak waved away. — Every first Imperial puts these white rags on himself and talks about how magnificent he is. The whole galaxy knows that there were only twelve real Grand Admirals in the Empire. Everyone else is just dressed-up clowns. You can make up anything - who will understand everything that is happening?
— You know, with that logic, you can come out of the shadows, say that you are a surviving Jedi Master and boss around that sucker Skywalker, — Tiberos chuckled.
— I'd rather stop drinking and kill that beastly descendant of Darth Vader, — a shadow ran across the zabrak's face.
— I'm sorry, friend, — Tiberos looked into the glazed and angry eyes of his mentor. — I forget how difficult it is for you to talk about all this...
— Difficult? — he smiled bitterly. — Tiberos, I saw with my own eyes how the one whom the entire Jedi Order considered the Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker, cut out a devastated temple. Children-younglings, padawans, wounded - this butcher did not stop before anyone and before anything. I still can't forgive myself for running away on the day Order Sixty-Six was carried out instead of fighting...
— Darth Vader would have killed you just like dozens of other Jedi before you, — Tiberos remarked calmly. — And I wouldn't have such a friend as you...
— Yeah, — Eymand smiled grimly. — A Jedi researcher who doesn't really want to be a Jedi, because the only Jedi in the galaxy is the son of a Jedi who killed almost all the Jedi I knew.
Jedi Knight Eymand.
— Are there too many words "Jedi" in one semantic construction? — Tiberos smiled. He liked to joke with his family friend at times. The only one of the representatives of the "Jedi brood," as his mother called them, known to him, who, after the collapse of the Republic and the Order, did not try to stage a coup, did not participate in political protests and unrest. And he simply settled in the Outer Rim, without shining, and little by little tried to make ends meet, working as a mercenary. Actually, it was in this field that their family met the former Jedi researcher. Not that his mother disliked him, but there was never any open hostility between them. Each was engaged in his own affairs and did not try to teach the other. After the death of his parents, it was Eymand who found him and told him everything about himself. Well, the decision to properly draw blood from the rebels is already the result of mutual agreements.
— If you had approached your studies as responsibly as you do the sarcasm with which you express yourself, you would have long since become a full-fledged Jedi Knight, — Eymand snorted. — And you wouldn't hang out in the role of an overgrown youngling!
— I don't need that, — Tiberos said calmly. — You yourself said that I am not so strong in your Force. So, I prefer to be content with what we have now: you plan the actions, I execute them.
— Uh-huh, — the zabrak thoughtfully scratched his chin. — I wonder what exactly this Grand Admiral Thrawn meant when he said that he could help you with your training?
— I don't care, — Tiberos waved his hand. — He was probably going to slip some trinkets as "sacred relics of the Jedi Order" in order to secure loyalty.
— Do you think they intend to revive the Inquisitorius? — Eymand inquired, nervously stroking the scar on his neck - a "gift" from an encounter with one Force-sensitive sentient being who was in the service of the Galactic Empire.
— I don't know, — Tiberos admitted. — I don't care - I don't want to be a puppet in someone else's hands. If I ever have the patience to learn your lessons on Jedi master class, then I will make progress on my own, and not by receiving knowledge from someone like the Empire.
— Considering that we are at war against the New Republic, at the helm of which there are sentients who gave and carried out the order that caused the death of your parents, and their only son of Anakin Skywalker, who has been known in the galaxy for more than two decades as Darth Vader, who is also knee-deep in this, I don't think that refusing the Empire's offer is a reasonable step, — Eymand said. — I remember how much shit Skywalker Sr. was able to spread and what a butcher he was on the battlefield. I very much doubt that the son did not follow in his father's footsteps. The New Republic can talk as much as it wants about how merciful and virtuous their only Jedi Knight is. Who, with a couple of torpedoes, destroyed millions of lives in the Battle of Yavin IV, and the dead don't dream him at night. No, a cub doesn't crawl away from his mother far — this young Skywalker is the same as his father. He just hasn't broken down and fallen to the Dark Side yet. But when this happens, the galaxy will once again be washed in blood. Believe me.
— Listen, — Tiberos looked into the eyes of his friend and mentor. — Maybe Luke Skywalker is not the son of Anakin Skywalker? Or is that what the Force tells you?
— My brains tell me about this, — Eymand sighed wearily, shaking his head. — One surname, both are sensitive to the Force - this is a direct heredity. Considering that Darth Vader's mother died and he had no other relatives left, there are not many options.
— Why bother? — Tiberos grimaced. — We'll gain strength, make money from the Imperials, pay Boba Fett - and let him kill these Skywalker offspring. By that time, Thrawn will punch the New Republic in the teeth, which means we will avenge the rebels and their hand-held Jedi both for the death of my parents and for the death of the Jedi Order.
— Well, since the Empire hired us, there should be no problems with money, — Eymand remarked. — But the Force tells me that everything is not so simple in our galactic swamp... Something is happening. Something wrong. I caught it when we arrived in the Tangrene system.
— Can you determine what it is? — Tiberos clarified.
— No, — the zabrak admitted. — It's some kind of distortion... For a few moments it appeared in the Force, and then disappeared again and again.
— Maybe it's somehow connected to the fact that the Grand Admiral somehow managed to block the Force during our meeting? — Tiberos asked.
— The hutt knows, — Eymand said. — I'm a researcher — I'd like to dig into the artifacts and holocrons, and not all this... Okay, I went to my cabin, I'll meditate, maybe the Force will whisper something sensible regarding our future life.
— May your Force send us more prizes and a good fight, — Tiberos asked, watching the zabrak walk away.
— And Corellian whiskey! — he shouted in response. — We are running out of booze on the ship!
— Are you kidding me? — Tiberos shouted. — We just bought a whole box last week!
— I meditated a lot! — the cry of the zabrak reached him, hiding around the corner of the corridor.
***
Moff of the Morshdein Sector, Felix Ferrus, sat in his office, studying the lists of trophy property received as a result of Grand Admiral Thrawn's raid on the rebel bases in the Dafilvean Sector.
Small arms and heavy weapons, thermal detonators, grenade launchers, ammunition sets, provisions, light vehicles such as swoop bikes and airspeeders, gravcycles, a large, no, even a huge, supply of medicines, computer equipment, droids...
And a lot of essentially useless junk, such as building blocks, light armor of enemy soldiers... It feels like Grand Admiral's stormtroopers have scooped up absolutely everything they could find or remove from the corpses of the enemy. Yes, judging by the fact that the lists of war trophies also include those that were damaged during the battle by stormtroopers' fire.
It's somehow... unusual. Like scavengers rummaging through the goods of their victims. One thing, of course, is war trophies, but armor from the dead...
After thinking a little, the Moff moved the items with "dead property" to the column "subject to sale." There are buyers for any curiosities on the black market. If the armor of clones from the time of the Grand Army of the Republic is still in high demand (even having been in battle), not to mention the simpler and more modern plastoid armor of stormtroopers, then there will always be a buyer for these "treasures."
From the side of the door leading to his office, a sound signal was heard. Someone was about to enter.
The stormtrooper standing next to the door panel silently unlocked it, and then reported to the Moff:
— Chief Engineer Nic Reyes is here to report, sir, — he said.
— Let him in, — the Moff waved his hand, setting aside the documents. This can be done later, after talking with Reyes. Moreover, Grand Admiral Thrawn is supposed to arrive any minute, whose assistant has appointed an audience on the issue of ensuring the security of Tangrene. Although the Moff suspected that the Supreme Commander-in-Chief learned about the reasons for the appearance of the chief engineer of the shipyard in the Moff's office earlier than the Moff himself.
— Come in, — he and Reyes have known each other for quite a long time - long before Felix was appointed Moff in this sector. So they could and did put aside various conventions, such as formalism of communication, when they were alone. — Do you want some caf?
— I'd better have something stronger, — the chief engineer said grumpily, settling into the chair offered to him. His serious, even slightly arrogant face, "painted" with the scarlet lens of his cybernetic eye, looked at the Moff, who in turn smiled and spread his hands. — Just don't say that you have nothing again.
Chief engineer of the orbital repair yard type II Nic Reyes.
— Grand Admiral will arrive in fifteen minutes, — Felix said. — I really don't want him to know that I have Alderaanian drinks in my safe.
— Decided to hear the report on the escort frigate upgrades yourself? — the single brow plating above his real right eye arched questioningly. The metallic fingers of the chief engineer's prosthesis on his right hand clicked against each other with an unpleasant screech.
— Do you think a Moff and the Supreme Commander of the Empire have no other reasons to meet, other than to discuss your durasteel rivets? — Felix chuckled.
— Oh yeah, sure, — the chief engineer twisted his lips. — You military types. All you want is to fight. And the fact that there's nothing for us to fix your brilliant strategic victories with—the warehouses are emptying right before our eyes, there's almost no equipment and resources—you don't care about that. All you want is more guns and more torpedo launchers!
— Don't say such things around Thrawn, — Ferrus scowled. — They say he made an ISB colonel do push-ups right on the bridge when he said or asked something unflattering in front of the duty officers.
— I can do push ups even with one right hand, — Nic smirked, demonstrating his prosthesis. — You'll see, I haven't lost my form yet, even though I graduated from the Academy even earlier than you.
— I believe it, — Ferrus chuckled. — Better tell me, what's going on with you?
— Detailed report on the progress of repairs of Star Destroyers, — Nic handed his datapad to the Moff. — If we focus strictly on them, we can bring them into service much faster. And after that, we can take care of the frigates, corvettes and other small stuff.
— Hmm, — Felix skimmed through the report. — I see you've worked on the escorts as well?
— Took the Kuat Drive Yards design blueprints from the archives, — Reyes explained. — Nothing complicated, actually. But it will take time and resources.
— Wouldn't say that we have plenty of either, — the Moff said thoughtfully. — Well, at least there is a fact sheet to work with. I hope the Grand Admiral will be satisfied with that. Especially given the tight deadlines you've done everything by...
They talked about details for a few minutes, discussing various "hot" moments, before the door panel swung open.
First, a gray, stocky creature darted inside, which the Moff had already seen in the Supreme Commander's entourage. The bodyguard, who like a silent shadow took position in the office, completely unconcerned about what the other present think of his actions.
Next, Grand Admiral Thrawn entered the office. As always, in a snow-white uniform, with boots polished to a mirror shine, the blue-skinned humanoid gave an impression of calm confidence.
After greeting those present, he sat in an unoccupied chair, ignoring Felix's offer to take the head of the table.
— This is your workplace, Moff Ferrus, — he said calmly. — Let's not waste time. There's not much of it anyway.
— Nic Reyes, — the governor of the Morshdyn sector introduced his friend. — Chief Engineer of the orbital dockyards.
— Pleased to meet you, Mr. Reyes, — the Grand Admiral said just as simply. The engineer was slightly taken aback—to hear such communication from naval personnel with "technical staff", which the dockyard workers were considered by all members of the Imperial fleet starships crews, was at the very least...unusual. And where is the usual contempt, arrogance, and a sense of superiority?!
Apparently, the rumors that Grand Admiral Thrawn was, to put it mildly, "not a typical Imperial" were true. Although the Moff himself believed that this statement primarily concerned the appearance and origin of the Grand Admiral. Non-humans in the Empire were not simply "disliked"—they were despised. And those who didn't were, at best, finishing their careers in a "honorable" high-ranking position somewhere in the backwaters of the Empire. In the Morshdyn sector, for example.
— Likewise, sir, — the military engineer replied.
— Taking this opportunity, I would like to inquire - how is the repair of my starships going? — the Grand Admiral asked. — I was informed that the ships would return to active duty in a period of one to four weeks. To put it mildly - this is too long.
— I understand, sir, — admitted the chief engineer. — However, we are primarily dependent on the amount of spare parts and components that are available in our Tangren warehouses, as well as on the supply of cargo from Bilbringi.
— A convoy of five Star Galleons, escorted by three Tartan-class patrol cruisers, left for Bilbringi yesterday, — the Moff interjected. — We expect them to arrive within two weeks with a full set of spare parts for all existing ships.
— And in that case, we will need another week, maximum—two in order for all the ships without exception that you brought to Tangren to be repaired and modernized, — Reyes summed up.
— Am I correct in understanding that at the moment there is a supply of equipment and parts for repairing Star Destroyers in the warehouses? — Thrawn clarified.
— Yes, sir, — the Moff confirmed.
— According to the instructions for the repair of warships, we carry out simultaneous repair of all starships that need it, — Reyes explained, perfectly knowing that naval officers are not very strong in "technical literacy". — Therefore, the spare parts are distributed among all the ships.
— Unfortunately for us, we do not have the ability to delay repairs, — Thrawn stated. — Take care of the Star Destroyers first and foremost.
— Understood, sir, — the chief engineer immediately pulled a portable computer out of his pocket. Turning it on, he started typing a message. After that, he froze in the middle of writing, moved the device away from his eyes, and looked attentively at the Supreme Commander. — Sir, may I correct the previous orders immediately? Otherwise, by the end of this conversation, my guys will have to pick out some parts from the depths of the escort frigates.
— You may, Chief Engineer, — Thrawn replied, instantly losing interest in Reyes, who had immersed himself in working with the computer. — Moff, while we have some time, I would like to point out to you what kind of starships you can use to defend Tangren and the entire sector.
Felix almost choked on a hiccup. What, just like that? They will give him starships? At least a couple of Star Destroyers!
— I am moving my fleet's base to Tangren, — the Grand Admiral stunned him with the news. — Soon, all the starships under my command will arrive here. At your disposal will be a Mark I-class assault frigate, a Carrack-class light cruiser, two Strike-class medium cruisers, one Immobilizer 418-class interdictor cruiser, — Thrawn said. And what about Destroyers?! — One Tartan-class patrol cruiser each to patrol sector systems at your disposal. Nebulon-B escort frigates are also at your disposal to protect our convoys. Also, a large part of my Star Galleons. If necessary, I will take the ships I need from you for missions.
— Understood, sir, — the Moff said slowly. — So, you're taking the Crusader from me?
At least one measly Victory I-class Star Destroyer could properly fend off an enemy attack in the system. And the fleet that Thrawn is giving… well… at least it's something.
— Already taken, — he said in an even tone. — Don't worry, after a while, a Golan II-class orbital defense station will be delivered to Tangren's orbit.
— Sir? — Felix blinked his eyes in incomprehension. — As far as I know, the Imperial Ruling Council is not thrilled about these stations being taken from the defense system of Bilbringi or other systems...
— This station was captured by us in the Krondr system, — Thrawn said calmly. — It is equipped with a hyperdrive, a navigation computer and main engines from an enemy ship. According to the station crew, they will arrive in a few weeks.
Reyes, hearing something interesting, looked at Thrawn with curiosity.
— Sir, allow me to clarify, — he said. — You have fitted an orbital defense station with a hyperdrive in a makeshift way?
— Yes, — Thrawn glanced at him. — Given its damage in battle, it will lose…not that many spare parts during the transition.
The Moff and the Chief Engineer exchanged glances. What?! An orbital station moving in hyperspace?! Yes, yes, yes... Kuat Drive Yards spend billions to find a suitable hyperdrive for their orbital repair stations and make them fly in hyperspace. And here—they just attached an engine from some ship?!
— Sir, if you don't mind, my people and I would like to inspect the station after its... landing, — it seemed that an eyelid began to twitch under Reyes's cybernetic prosthesis of his left eye.
— I do not mind, — Thrawn replied. — Moreover, I will tell you. You will have to study the temporary structure that we used, repair the station in such a way that it can continue to move in hyperspace.
— I will do everything I can, sir, — the engineer was confused. In fact, Thrawn was offering him to "on the fly" discover the secret of Kuat Drive Yards, which they themselves had been discovering for hundreds of years. So, maybe they'll need to extinguish stars too?
Felix thought that Thrawn's order to create privateers and prize court, trading captured goods on the black market—was just the beginning compared to what would be...
— Furthermore, regarding you, Mr. Reyes, — Thrawn continued. — At the Bilbringi dockyards, a group of medium freighters are being repaired. They will arrive here along with working prototypes of cloaking devices, — the chief engineer became wary, looking at the Grand Admiral with suspicion. And the Moff shared his feelings. A cloaking device is not a blaster that can be obtained in any back alley. This is an elite and top-secret technology! Without diagrams and a description of the principles of operation... — The convoy that was sent to Bilbringi will deliver a team of technicians who worked with this technology, as well as the necessary equipment, along with spare parts and resources that will be needed to complete the next part of my plan. You will receive the fundamental technical diagrams and a description of the operation of the cloaking devices a little later from the commander of my flagship, Captain Pellaeon.
Nic Reyes's second eye is about to twitch now.
So, what will the Grand Admiral, who hadn't been heard from for a long time until last year, pull out of his "pocket" next? A couple of new Super Star Destroyers? The Death Star? The Katana Fleet? The Sa Nalaor? An army of clones? A fleet of lost Star Destroyers? Hutt be damned, what else can one expect? The resurrection of the Emperor?!
— I understand, sir, — the chief engineer said. — I understand, the asteroids that your ships unloaded next to my dockyards—are also part of some plan?
— Absolutely, — Thrawn agreed. — As soon as the necessary supply of a substance known as hybridium is delivered from Garos IV, begin installing cloaking systems on the asteroids.
— On all of them? — Reyes was taken aback.
— Yes, — the Grand Admiral answered simply.
— Sir, but there are one hundred and thirty-seven of them! — The chief engineer could not stand it. — And each one is the size of a fighter!
— Not all of them are that big, — Thrawn noted. — A significant part are smaller, the size of a speeder. But that doesn't matter now.
— Grand Admiral, sir, — Felix said carefully. — If I have a correct idea of the costs of such a project, then it will take one and a half to two hundred million credits to implement it!
— Exactly, Moff Ferrus, — Thrawn remained calm. — Money is my concern. You only need to do your job.
— With all due respect, sir, — the chief engineer shook his head, — I have a little over four thousand engineers and technicians under my command. We cannot simultaneously repair ships and build cloaking fields on asteroids...
— I will provide you with technicians, don't worry about that, — for the first time, Thrawn showed something similar to emotions. — By the way, cloaking fields will also have to be equipped with several freighters - their holds, in particular, three Strike-class medium cruisers, a Golan II-class station, as well as an orbital repair dock. If necessary, I will send you additional instructions.
— Sir, — Felix said. — The Imperial Ruling Council will simply tear me apart...
— They don't need to know about this, Moff Ferrus, — Thrawn remarked. — I would even say—it is undesirable. In the near future, I will personally talk to them and assure them of the need to increase funding for the activities of our fleet.
— Sorry, sir, — the Moff grimaced, — but you don't know these misers very well. I've been asking them for an ion cannon to protect the planet for the second year—only excuses in response...
— Well, you are not a Grand Admiral, — Thrawn remarked calmly. Looking attentively at Felix, who had opened his mouth, he added:
— I'm sorry, Moff, but I cannot allocate a planetary ion weapon to you either—I need it for... other purposes, — Felix did not fail to notice how Thrawn delicately bypassed the reason why he did not want to share the captured V-150 "Planetary Defender" ion cannon. Well, alright.
— After some time, my ships will deliver mining equipment, a supply of metals, as well as volatile fuel, rhydonium, to the dockyards, — the Grand Admiral continued, looking directly into the chief engineer's eyes. — The purified ore will be useful to you, Mr. Reyes, and your subordinates, in order to repair the ships in a timely manner...
"So, what is the mining equipment for? What, will we have to dig into the ground in search of resources?"—Moff Ferrus thought wearily. It seemed that he was too high of an opinion of the Grand Admiral. Apparently, he is trying to build a self-sufficient fleet base within one sector... Not that the Moff was against it, but... This would require billions! If you create everything from the very beginning, then...
— ...With all due respect, sir, but rhydonium is a very unstable source of fuel, — the chief engineer remarked. — Our engines will have to be modernized, and drastically so, in order for them to operate on this type of fuel without major problems.
— I am already familiar with the calculations on the properties of rhydonium, — Thrawn noted. — No, you will not have to modernize the ship's engines. All you need to do is make the plasma drills, the so-called "diggers", work on this fuel. One, maybe two accelerations for faster movement towards the target.
"What the hell is going on?!"—Felix almost asked, realizing that he was losing the thread of the conversation. He didn't understand anything at all. Rydonitum, "diggers"... What, Thrawn decided to replace fighters with plasma drill kamikazes?!
— Grand Admiral, — he said. — Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel agreed to provide us with fighters, interceptors, and bombers to make up for the losses. The truth is... — the Moff hesitated. — The price...
— Who would doubt that the Ciutric Hegemony decided to profit from its allies, — Thrawn unexpectedly chuckled. — And what price does Mr. Prince-Admiral offer for the ships we need?
— Seventy thousand credits for one TIE fighter, ninety thousand for a TIE interceptor and one hundred and ten thousand for a TIE bomber, — the Moff said a little quieter, realizing that according to the laws and traditions of Imperial military logic, those higher in rank and position, in the case of a bad mood, compare to the ground those who brought them bad news. And in this case, there is a direct cause-and-effect relationship between "bad news" and "bad mood". And no one will condemn the Grand Admiral...
— Well, that's interesting, — Thrawn said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. — The price is certainly inflated compared to what it was in the Empire before.
— Most of the factories for the production of small aircraft of the TIE series have already either been destroyed or captured by the enemy, — the chief engineer noted. — Given that specialized production lines and a huge amount of various resources are needed to create these ships—from twin ion engines and solar panels to transparisteel for the viewports—such a small price increase can be considered justified.
— But not in a situation when we are the only ones fighting against our common enemy, — Thrawn noted. — While our allies are just sitting behind the backs of my crews, this is more than offensive.
— I understand, Grand Admiral, — the chief engineer shrugged. — But, unfortunately, little can be done against the existing system. The Ciutric Hegemony is the only imperial state, not counting the Five Star Commonwealth, that has the ability to produce a full cycle of TIE-type equipment—both air and ground. Even in the Imperial Space there are no such large capacities—production is too slow. As far as I know, Ord Trasi and Bilbringi are producing all three types of fighters we need—but extremely slowly.
— This situation must be corrected, — Thrawn declared, literally nailing the chief engineer with his gaze. — We cannot spend exorbitant amounts of money on the purchase of ships that can massively perish in battles with the enemy. Your dockyards are capable of building starships. Is it really so difficult to create a production line for us to manufacture fighters, bombers, and interceptors?
— Without knowledge of the technological process—it is impossible, — Nic Reyes remarked. — Of course, we can apply the process of reverse engineering to fill in the missing knowledge, but...
— Need money and time? — Thrawn clarified.
— And several unnecessary samples of fighters, interceptors and bombers, — the chief engineer nodded. — I am quite confident in the competence of my workers, however, it is necessary to understand that we do not specialize in the construction of ships "from scratch", but only in their assembly from modules that were supplied by the manufacturing companies. We can repair, in accordance with the knowledge and technical diagrams we have, we can modernize—within reasonable limits. But to create an industrial line... It is huge costs and a lot of time. It may take months or more to study the process... But even in this case, I do not guarantee the result.
— Moff Ferrus, — Thrawn addressed the Governor of the Morshdyn sector. — What was the size of the air wing based on Tangren under the Ubiqtorate?
— Fourteen squadrons, sir, — he answered without delay. — Now—two.
— And also, we have losses among all types of fighters on our Star Destroyers, — Thrawn continued. — Plus, some of our captured starships must also have the ability to carry an air wing—the same escort frigates, for example. Or Corellian corvettes and gunships… Yes, large sums of money will be needed to solve the existing problems with fighters.
— Then we have a problem, — the chief engineer declared. — Either we use reverse engineering and create our own semi-handicraft production facilities, or we buy at least units and assemble them on site.
— Well, why not, — Thrawn objected. — There is always a third option for the development of events.
But the Grand Admiral was not going to clarify what he meant. Not at all.
— Mr. Reyes, — he turned to the chief engineer again. — Of course, the deadline has not yet expired, but how is the work going on the modernization of the captured escort frigates?
— Actually, — Reyes took his datapad from the Moff's hands and handed it to the Grand Admiral. — Given our difficult material and repair capabilities, I would suggest using modernization options that Sienar Fleet Systems developed for Nebulons a year before the Battle of Endor.
Thrawn looked with interest at the images in the files.
Imperial variant Mk-I escort frigate EF76 "Nebulon-B"
— In the first variant, by reducing the volume of the hangar, reducing the number of transport shuttles to two units, as well as reducing the air wing to one squadron, the arsenal of the escort frigate is doubled, — the chief engineer explained. — In essence, it will already be a light cruiser. The entire hull is sheathed with cruiser armor, which increases its resistance in line combat. Due to the partial change of interior spaces and a reduction in the volume of cargo transported—the speed remains the same. This option is designated as Mk-I.
— That is, it becomes a primarily artillery ship with minimal air cover? — the Grand Admiral
clarified.
— The manufacturer assumed that such starships would operate as part of a formation, — the Moff noted. — So, due to the overall potential, the lack of aircraft should have been compensated by increased armament, as well as the air wings of other ships in the formation. Oh, yes, almost forgot. There is an optional possibility of installing up to four proton torpedo or concussion missile launchers in the front hemisphere. In any case, despite the small ammunition load—only three munitions per launcher—this can be a very, very unpleasant surprise for the enemy.
— Now tell me about the Mk-II variant, — the Grand Admiral asked.
Imperial variant Mk-II escort frigate EF76 "Nebulon-B"
— And this is already the opposite concept, — Neil noted. — The armament is left the same—twelve turbolasers, twelve laser cannons, tractor beams. But at the same time, due to the re-profiling of the cargo compartment, the placement of external suspensions, the removal of transport vehicles from the hangar, except for the air wing and a couple of cargo shuttles, it is possible to install additional armor on this ship, as well as to place not twenty-four fighters or interceptors, but forty-eight! Three squadrons are located in the main hangar, four additional vehicles—in the cargo hold in the bow, and another eight—on the external suspension between the aft and bow parts. And the speed and maneuverability of the ship are also preserved. But unlike its predecessor, the Mk-II has no opportunity to transport passengers or a landing party—this is a pure escort ship, for which boarding combat is fraught with danger.
— In other words, either an ersatz cruiser or an ersatz aircraft carrier, — Thrawn summed up.
— Unfortunately, exactly, sir, — the chief engineer declared. — That is why the ship was not very popular in the line fleet—even sending it on escort duty in its original form... is scary. But the rebels turned them into something like battleships that fight well against our starships.
— Okay, — Thrawn said. — We have two escort frigates. Create one and the other variant, let's test them in battle. It is pointless to choose only one. These ships need to cover convoys and more important targets, but we don't have fighters to build second modifications. And the first is more suitable for line combat or raiding. But we have enough line ships... in general. What is the cost of the modernization work?
— Given that we have a stock of armor and guns, but if we can produce the former on our own, the latter will have to be purchased or wait for deliveries... — the chief engineer began to calculate in his mind.
— Let's consider the option with the purchase of the necessary equipment and weapons, — Thrawn suggested.
— In this case, the amount is half a million for the modification of each ship, — Reyes declared. — This is the price tag for materials. You understand—workers are paid salaries, so payment for their work is a separate expense item.
— Okay, the money will be allocated to you, — the Grand Admiral declared. — If necessary, you can disassemble a captured rebel assault frigate for spare parts in order to save money—but under the condition that it must retain the ability to move and jump into hyperspace.
Looking at the Moff, to whom this ship had already been promised, the Grand Admiral added:
— If this happens, I will transfer another Strike-class medium cruiser to your command.
— Yes, sir, — Ferrus was reassured.
— Mr. Reyes, — the Grand Admiral again addressed the chief engineer. — I would like you to calculate the changes in the design of the hangars of our Star Destroyers. Or the modernization of the starships themselves.
— What needs to be done? — Nic became interested.
— Given the low protection of our ships from enemy fighters, I ask you to consider three concepts. The first is the installation of additional mounts in the hangar for transporting a ship during flight, similar in size to the Corellian DP20 gunship or a CR90-class corvette.
Noticing that Thrawn had paused for a reprise, the chief engineer said:
— Sir, Imperial I-class Star Destroyers have a very mediocre but sufficient cover of laser cannons. The situation is different with the "twos", which rely entirely on their air wings... Hmm... Given the size of the hangar, the length and dimensions of the hulls of the proposed ships... Sir, a few standard holders-manipulators for external docking will be enough to accept any of the ships you proposed inside.
— The second option is the expansion of the hangar at the expense of interior spaces to accommodate additional squadrons, — sounded Thrawn's offer.
Here, Nic was not so quick with an answer.
After a few seconds of thought, he said:
— Sir, I am not ready to answer right now—it is necessary to evaluate the technical diagram of the entire ship in order to talk about any cardinal decision.
— The third option, — Thrawn announced. — Increasing the number of laser cover weapons or their installation—in particular on the "twos". I would also like to see an option with the return of three triple medium turbolasers on a linear-elevated scheme, as on the "ones". When in battle you have to distract heavy artillery to ward off medium ships such as frigates or corvettes—this is not good.
— And also, it will allow you to visually disguise a real "two" as a "one", — the chief engineer squinted his only real eye. — Given the difference in the number of heavy turbolasers between these types of ships... Yes, this will most likely be a fatal surprise for any enemy capital ship.
— And the last thing, — Thrawn made it clear that he was bringing the conversation to an end. — Read the possibility of placing pumping generators and deflector field projectors under the armor. As the rebels did on their MC30c-class frigate.
— Sir, — the chief engineer grimaced as if his teeth were hurting, but he was trying his best to restrain himself. — The MC30c is a rarity that has already been massively scrapped by the rebels. Its pumping generators will not be able to provide more power for our shields.
— But they will be able to help them recover even under enemy fire, — the Grand Admiral noted. — Take my word for it, Chief Engineer—we have fought against these ships. With all their shortcomings, if their ship armor was thicker and the cannons were larger—not all of our starships would have made it to their bases.
A tense silence fell.
— Yes, sir, — Reyes replied in a formal, clear manner. — My people and I will do everything to improve our ships.
— Let's agree on that, — Thrawn said in the same calm tone. — Well, you have a lot of work ahead. Get to solving the tasks set before you. I won't distract you. Rukh!
The grey-skinned bodyguard, whose presence they had long forgotten, quickly covered the distance from his place to the door, positioning himself next to the Grand Admiral's figure.
When the door closed behind him, the Moff and the chief engineer, who had been standing at attention, escorting the departure of the thirteenth Grand Admiral of the Empire, finally relaxed.
— You know, — Nic Reyes said thoughtfully, looking at the Moff, — it seems to me that soon we will remember the time when the Ubiqtorate ruled Tangren with great rapture...
— I'm sure of it, — Felix agreed, smirking. Unable to contain himself, the Moff sneered:
— "Ubiqtorate, come back, we miss you!".