— Welcome aboard, madam, — the attendant with a wide smile returned her boarding pass, stepping aside and clearing her passage to the suites. — Your cabin is located on the third deck in the area for special clients. There is direct access to the restaurant, the observation deck, and...
— The casino, — Mara smiled charmingly, continuing to play her role as a wealthy aristocrat. — I would like to try my luck first and spend a pretty penny with you.
— I am sure that such a gorgeous young lady will be lucky today and throughout the seven-day tour around the reefs, — she had heard this standard phrase many times. — The entrance to the casino is the second turn to the right from your cabin. The lift will take you directly to the main entrance. But, — his gaze slid past the girl's shoulder. — Your security detail, like any security, is prohibited from visiting the entertainment and recreation areas for first and second-class passengers — casinos, restaurants, and other areas — the compartments have a table designation, — he pointed to a small luminous sign at the far end of the corridor, where the inscription "First Class Passengers Only" was burning.
— What are these restrictions for? — Mara Jade frowned.
— These are the security rules of the Coral Vanda, — the steward said, looking down slightly. — We apologize for any inconvenience, ma'am.
And now she has two obvious options — to make a scene, which is unlikely to change anything, but will draw unwanted attention to her and the fighters, or to remain silent. In any case, she only has two stormtroopers disguised in civilian clothes — there were no more people with less fierce faces on board the Nemesis.
— Well, if that's the case, then I hope your security service is qualified enough, — she theatrically wrinkled her nose, creating the appearance of a young rich woman who did not like what had been said, but still decided to give this establishment a chance or be pleasantly surprised by its service and comfort. — I don't have to worry that somewhere on the decks I will be taken hostage by some robbers and they will start threatening me with a blaster to take away my jewelry or honestly won credits?
— Absolutely not, ma'am, — the steward's eyes widened. It seems that he was hearing such a claim against the company and its employees for the first time. Not that Mara was worried that someone would need her cheap jewelry and a small supply of money. Her provocative questions had a completely different purpose. And it is unlikely that the young clerk would guess it. — We have real-time visual surveillance cameras on every deck, no blind spots! Only security personnel have weapons, and believe me, there are no thieves or robbers on board...
"As well as cardsharps, scammers, Imperial spies and disguised stormtroopers," Mara completed his thought. Looks like quite the place. But she was not going to interrupt the veiled interrogation. The boy knows a lot. And he is ready to tell for a couple of smiles. "Men," Jade thought with longing and condemnation, glancing at the mirror panel in the corridor. A tall, red-haired beauty in a beautiful, form-fitting dress and a chic hairstyle, like those made in the best salons of Coruscant, was looking at her from there. Well, it really turned out well. Should she go to the hairdressers — she created such beauty herself...
— Well, you have convinced me, — she smiled sweetly at the steward. — I see that my friend Hoffner did not praise your establishment for nothing.
— Are you a friend of Mr. Hoffner's? — the steward revived.
— Yes, what's the matter? — Mara smiled, inwardly alerted.
— Oh, he is our regular customer, — the steward smiled. — Very generous...
"Oh you little extortionist!", Mara thought. But it was unnecessary to break the legend of the wealthy lady she had created. Otherwise, it would not be possible to get on board the Coral Vanda — only first and second-class passengers are allowed here. And a ticket for a seven-day cruise costs a hundred and a fifty thousand credits, respectively. And cheaper ones are not provided for by company policy.
Snapping her fingers, she reached for her handbag, from where she pulled out a credit chip worth a hundred, and handed it to the steward. He received the reward with a deft, almost imperceptible movement.
— Thank you, miss, — he smiled, planning to slip away after receiving his "tip".
— One moment, dear, — the girl called him, luring him with another chip of the same value. — Is my friend Hoffner on the ship now?
— Of course, ma'am, — the steward smiled, hiding another portion of credits in his pocket. — He has been living here for the last couple of years.
— That's why I can't get in touch with him, — Mara smiled. — He's having fun. Do you happen to know where he is now?
— As usual, — the steward received another credit chip. — In the casino.
— Thanks for the tip, — the girl smiled. — By the way, will the cruise start soon?
The ship, as if it had decided to answer her question itself, began to tremble slowly, obviously plunging into the ocean depths.
— Already, — the employee smiled. — If Miss doesn't need anything else...
— If I need anything at all, I will definitely find you, — Mara smiled politely, unlocking the door to her suite with a key card. She had already received all the answers she needed. It's time to start the mission.
When the door closed and half an hour later, the trio of Imperial spies finished searching the dwelling, which they were not even going to use properly, she approached the mirror and easily removed the necklace of expensive-looking stones from herself. Throwing it to the nearest "guard", she said:
— Collect the transmitter and inform the Nemesis that we are ready. They will be here an hour after receiving the signal — this is enough to find Hoffner and isolate him.
The stormtroopers silently began to rip open the suitcases with luggage, in the walls of which the separate parts of the transmitter were hidden. The security service will probably find them, but it will take some time. Enough time to visit the casino.
The girl, grabbing an exquisite but comfortable dress from the suitcase, headed to the bathroom to change.
A task is a task, but it's so nice to feel like a luxurious woman again. And even if the costs of this operation have already cost the Empire a good quarter of a million, she had no doubt that in the event of a favorable outcome, Thrawn would not object to such spending.
The Grand Admiral never worried about spending money at all.
***
Nez Peron's orbital defenses were impressive in their monumentality.
More than twenty Golan II-type orbital defense platforms — and that is quite a lot. One such defense station costs about twenty-nine million credits. An elementary mathematical exercise — and now, we can safely say that the D'asta family once invested five hundred and eighty million in their defense. And they invested it wisely. After all, for this money it was possible to purchase three Imperial Star Destroyers or ships of a similar class. But here's the snag — three destroyers will not last long in case of a serious siege company of Nez Peron. But the "Golans" are a completely different category. These stations have artillery and defensive power equivalent to that of the same Star Destroyer. And a very large fortress. If you surround the planet with a sufficient number of orbital stations so that they have the opportunity to conduct crossfire and support each other's turbolasers — it will not be easy to break through such a barrier. Without colossal losses — for sure.
Of course, this condition does not apply to those who have Super Star Destroyers or battle stations equipped with axial superlasers like those located on Eclipse-type ships or battle planetoids like the Death Star in reserve.
The ships that participated in the attack on the Krondr system faced only one such Golan II-type station — and it was not easy for them. And there were four Star Destroyers. And here it is no longer worth seriously saying that they suffered losses after getting bogged down in a fight with the rebel ships — on the contrary, this is a clear indicator of how effective such a line of defense is. Orbital stations and fleet support ships... Strong. Especially considering that this defense tactic is widespread in the galaxy on planets with high money turnover and high strategic importance.
I have enough funds to buy two, maybe three such orbital stations, but what's the point? After all, in this case, I will simply be left without funds to maintain the fleet. But when there is a little more money — then yes, it will be possible to think about securing Tangren with one or two more stations. But only after our crippled trophy arrives and the chief engineer gives his verdict on the professional suitability of our handicraft "DIY" in factory conditions.
It is also worth noting that Nez Peron has a natural barrier to a sudden attack — an asteroid field that surrounds the sector's capital world with a ring. And if I understand correctly — most of the vectors of entry into the system are oriented directly to the fact that it will be necessary to break through a cluster of space boulders. The fairway for unimpeded movement can only be transmitted by the dispatch station — and I am sure that the number of subscribers who can receive such information is extremely limited. Not to mention the fact that space mines are hidden in the asteroid field. And the formless pieces of rock themselves serve as a base for fighters — the largest of the asteroids. And the space mining stations in the asteroid belt are clearly not out for a walk. Not to mention the CR90 ships of the notorious private military fleet drifting in orbit. I have no doubt that even a couple of hundred CR90s will be enough to wash any enemy fleet with blood.
One way or another, the D'asta family definitely and indelibly gave the impression of Imperials who clearly had an understanding not only of the fortification of defense systems, but also of a pragmatic approach to the competent use of available resources. It is no coincidence that Nez Peron is only an agricultural planet — the baron and his entourage will receive all the necessary metals from the asteroids. And in the most suitable of them, after mining the ore, it is possible to organize space bases. Now it is clear why the New Republic does not get into this sector — and it is more than "tasty". If the locals have approached the issue of defense of the rest of the planets at least partly in the same style — there is nothing to catch here. Of course, unless you have a Super Star Destroyer or a combat planetoid. Ironic...
The residence of Baron Ragez D'asta did not give the impression of a dwelling of a man who possessed great wealth and controlled a prosperous sector of the galaxy.
Looking at the building, which was very similar to the palaces of European monarchs from my past, I could not help but admire how organically the spacious building, only three stories high, fits into the landscape of the agricultural planet Nez Peron.
Decorated with stucco moldings, columns, openwork curls, statues, and figures made of valuable minerals, the grayish-blue building was located in the middle of endless fields planted with grain crops. From the height of the shuttle flight, figures of sentient beings working in the fields, agricultural equipment harvesting crops, alleys of neatly decorated green spaces, spacious duracrete platforms surrounding the residence along the perimeter, alternating with alleys planted with perfectly straight trees, painfully similar to those I saw on Earth, were visible... True, only in the photographs that my friends brought from vacation. For obvious reasons, the fleet analyst did not have the opportunity to go abroad to the countries of the successfully "decaying West".
Baron Ragez D'asta's Residence.
The shuttle landed on the landing pad, marked with reflective lines and patterns. The supports touched the strong building material and the sharp sound of depressurizing cooling systems was heard. Harmless white-gray steam hissed and dissipated into the atmosphere.
The landing ramp touched the duracrete with a quiet clank, revealing a view of the naturally lit surroundings, where a detachment of stormtroopers escorting the Star Destroyer had already poured out. Looking at the perfect synchronicity of the movements of Captain Astorias's fighters as they lined up in two short ranks on either side of the ramp, I thought, should I not get my own ceremonial detachment? It would probably be even more pragmatic — to secure a separate shuttle for myself, modernizing it to my taste. To select a suitable crew for it, a well-trained escort team... Yes, I have Rukh — he is still sneaking behind, peering in all directions, identifying threats. But the Noghri are not a front-line fighter. He is a spy, a saboteur, a killer, a bodyguard. But if there is a need to take a full-scale battle — this is where professional soldiers are needed. Perfectly trained specifically for this.
Hmm... this idea should be thought through thoroughly. Very, very detailed, comprehensively assessing all the pros and cons.
A caustic thought pricked: "And what am I capable of in battle, if I remove the abilities of my soldiers and the Noghri?". It seems that there is no need to take up a blaster myself — I am still a fleet commander, I have a whole squadron of Star Destroyers at my fingertips, capable of turning the surface of the planet into slag — and not just one. Why do I need blaster exercises? And in my past life, I didn't particularly like the regulation weapon, but here...
No. It's definitely necessary.
I'm looking at how, ten meters from the "lambda" that delivered me to the surface, young men from the regular army, dressed in gray uniforms and light body armor with Imperial insignia, are lined up, and I'm thinking: "If they were to start a shootout now, what would happen? A whole company of armed infantry against me, the Noghri, and a detachment of stormtroopers. How long will we live?"
Yes, a light cuirass, capable of stopping not the most serious blaster shots and kinetic projectiles, is worn under the tunic, but still? Shouldn't I think about getting a personal energy shield as well? It seems that there are such in the galaxy — if you remember the plots of some games about the Far-far Galaxy, then there are no doubts about this. Then here is another problem for the mind — to find out the reason for not using personal shields in the current realities. Perhaps there are none at the moment. Or there never were, and they were invented exclusively as game conventions.
But that's all later.
At the moment, I was more interested in the colorful figure of Baron D'asta, who was meeting me in person.
Baron Ragez D'asta.
A tall but stocky man with slightly sharp facial features, dressed in simple clothes in crimson tones and sharply contrasting gray hair, was imposing in his authoritativeness. His piercing gaze of yellowish-brown eyes assessed the small performance I had arranged in a few seconds. And I am sure that he was not confused by either the stormtroopers or the presence of weapons on the "lambda" — after what I saw in orbit, I am firmly convinced that the residence has very good self-defense systems. Planetary turbolasers, disguised as something — like an angular "water tower" made of gray stones, whose top was very similar to a camouflage dome of a ship's gun. Maybe something else is hidden underground or in the palace itself. If not — then I will even be disappointed.
— Grand Admiral Thrawn, — the Imperial aristocrat courteously greeted me, flaunting an enviable posture. He was not inferior to me in height, but surpassed me in shoulders. Obviously, he was engaged in power sports in the past, gaining "mass". Now it is clear that the man has slightly lost his color, but continues to maintain himself in a suitable form. He reminds me of myself five years before my death — while my health allowed, I tried not to let myself become bloated. It was no longer up to that after the diagnosis...
Another thought: "Shouldn't I organize a small gym in my apartment? Analytics is certainly good, but a trained body is also important." Well, let's remember.
— Baron D'asta, — I returned his courtesy. No nods, no handshakes — nothing secular. His sector is connected with the Empire, to which I also formally belong, by contractual obligations. He is respected, valued by the rulers of the Empire. Because he is a ruler himself. I, on the other hand, am a military leader. Only the status of Supreme Commander adds some weight to me and allows me to correspond to my interlocutor in authority.
— May I suggest you take a walk, Grand Admiral? — the gray-haired man asked.
— I will certainly agree to your initiative, — I replied. Noticing that the aristocrat had headed towards one of the alleys, while his soldiers remained at the landing pad, I threw over my shoulder to Rukh:
— Wait, — after which I calmly followed the baron. Out of delicacy, he pretended to admire some plant in the flowerbed and gave me the opportunity to catch up with him.
The baron watched the carpet of wildflowers that covered the flowerbed for a few minutes. And if you didn't know this for sure, you might think that the flowers were planted chaotically. But from the height of the flight, it is clear that an image of the family crest of the aristocrats is planted from the plants. Not too pompous, but... quite simple and tasteful.
— I have heard that the New Republic has suffered heavy losses in the Dafilvean sector, — he finally said, stopping to look at the flowers and slowly stepping along the flowerbed.
— Not so significant, — I did not exaggerate my merits. Again, a reason for reasoning: whose victory is it? Mine, because the attacks were planned by me, a logical trap for the mad K'baoth was planned, forcing him to use his Battle Meditation, plans for the assaults on the bases on Ord Pardnon and Krondor were developed so that the New Republic still has not understood what was the purpose of the destruction of these bases by "meteorites"? Or is it the victory of a mad clone who managed to subordinate an entire fleet to his power and used the deep knowledge of hundreds of thousands of sentient beings to achieve the result?
— As I heard, the entire linear formation of star cruisers survived, — the baron noted.
— The command withdrew them from the sector fleet, — I explained.
— So, you struck at the weak? — the baron asked provocatively.
— I struck the enemy, — the calm answer aroused interest in the eyes of the aristocrat.
— Do you think that the New Republic is an enemy for us? — he asked. A very interesting question.
Because the Imperials prefer to call the new owners of Coruscant "rebels" and "insurgents". At the same time, there is always contempt in their voice. And the baron used a completely different wording. The one that I use from time to time as well. Because it's time for the Imperials to understand something. The rebels are no longer "guys from Coruscant."
— I believe that our states have mutual claims that are resolved exclusively by force, — I explained. — The ossification of thinking does not allow our military to even say "New Republic" aloud to denote the enemy.
— Yes, this funny word game, — the baron smirked. — And what do you think, Grand Admiral? Who are they? Rebels or New Republicans?
— Calling them "rebels," we are trying to awaken in ourselves a nostalgic craving for the times when the Empire held most of the galaxy under its control in a durasteel fist, and there was only a handful of desperate sentient beings among the rebels, — I noted. — Because of their greed and shortsightedness, after the death of the Emperor, our military leaders did not notice that with their own hands they had destroyed what was supposed to stand and prosper for thousands of years. At least that's how it was planned.
— I think we can say that the implementation of the Emperor's plan to create a galactic state has undergone... significant deviations from the plan, — the baron diplomatically noted.
This man is not easy to deal with. Diabolically not easy. It seemed as if he was saying everything easily and casually — as if he was voicing everything that he thought without any processing. While I am sure that every phrase and the meaning that he puts into it is the result of long reflections and analysis of the situation in the galaxy. He is playing a verbal game, evaluating my own answers. And you don't need to be a prophet to understand that his reaction to my suggestions will depend entirely on whether we agree on the key points.
And I saw no reason to dissemble, to torment myself in order to get some crumbs from his table.
— The implementation of any plan depends on the performers, — I noted. — The idea may be perfect, ideal and humane, but if those who are entrusted with its implementation do not understand the essence, then the end result will not meet at least some criteria of long-term nature. The collapse of the Empire clearly demonstrated this to us.
— Do you think we are facing a collapse? — the baron clarified.
— I assume that we will continue to fight with varying degrees of success if we do not change our attitude towards the enemy, — I stated. — They are no longer "rebels" — they are the power that must be reckoned with. They have Coruscant at their disposal, and most of the inhabited worlds consider owning it as owning the entire galaxy. Their fleet surpasses ours in size, and the armed forces have excellent training. If earlier we fought with a bunch of fanatics and selfless idealists, now they have been replaced by pragmatic people and strategists hardened in battles, who are not inferior to, and in some places superior to, those at our disposal. Underestimating them is dangerous for the very existence of the Empire. As soon as we understand this, we will find an acceptable way out of the situation.
— And what is it, in your opinion? — the baron asked quietly, but with undisguised interest.
I didn't start to hold a theatrical pause.
— Peace, baron, — the gray eyebrows crawled up. — Only a peace treaty with the New Republic will save the Empire from complete destruction.
***
The Coral Vanda was a well-advertised entertainment resort. Under other circumstances, Mara could even admire the scope and decoration of the premises, but today and now she had a more important mission.
The spacious casino compartment was striking in its scope. If there is at least one gambling game in the galaxy, then it was represented here by a good dozen gaming tables. Sabacc, lagjack, trheggald, holo-chess, roulette, slot machines... Even the outdated pazaak — and there are tables for that too. And a considerable number of people who want to play at them.
A spacious room was divided into two symmetrical halves by an impressive bar, filled with bottles with contents so diverse that Mara almost whistled. The owners of this resort clearly tried to ensure that customers and passengers could drink everything that their soul could wish for during the triumph of winning. Or, more often, to drown their sorrows in comfort and elegance.
The completely transparent wall of the gaming room allowed you to enjoy the beauty of the ocean: the low speed of the cruise liner did not disturb the shoals of silvery and curious fish, which must have already become accustomed to observing this huge and blazing wonder of technical thought with artificial lights.
The intricately curved coral reefs through which the ship was sailing beautifully harmonized with the blue-green almost transparent ocean water in the coastal strip. Yes, under other circumstances, she could spend a lot of time here.
Especially considering the fact that the Coral Vanda had as many as seven such luxurious gaming rooms. And now the red-haired beauty reached the last one, not showing her irritation that she could not find the object she was looking for.
— Does milady want a drink? — the bartender asked when she approached the counter to see the drowsy drinkers sitting behind it, who had spent a lot of money in the first hours of their stay on the liner. But all of them are rich sentient beings. They have more. And a lot.
— Something non-alcoholic, — she asked. Not that she was afraid of big expenses — she had money, but drinks and food are included in the price of the cruise for first-class passengers. Less wealthy sentient beings from the second class could afford these luxuries for an additional fee.
However, the red-haired beauty could not stand drinking alcohol on a mission. There is no need to cloud your head and pump up the body if it can be avoided. In the past, she often celebrated the completion of particularly difficult missions with a glass of expensive wine... Perhaps this will be the case this time as well.
— Please, — the bartender gave her a glass of freshly squeezed juice, decorating the straw with a multicolored umbrella. — Can I help you with anything?
Ordinary working politeness. Supported by the practice that wealthy sentient beings are mostly willing to spend a little money for tips to their hobbies. A simple trick that often works.
— I'm just enjoying the views, — Mara broke away from the feigned contemplation of the coral reef, while actually examining the players sitting facing her. She did not notice Hoffner, whose appearance she had perfectly studied from the Imperial files before the task, among them. Well, now she will finish looking around in this way and start wandering around the hall, pretending to be looking at the tables, choosing which one to join.
But she certainly will not play — with her trained eye, despite the lack of long professional practice, she calculated that there is a professional cardsharp in almost every gaming company. They probably work for the company's management and help passengers get rid of their money faster. Simple and uncomplicated. No matter how you look at it, the casino always remains the winner. That's what it was created for.
— A great view, don't you think? — said the bartender, wiping another glass with a snow-white towel. — These corals are quite old...
— Yes, I've heard about it, — Mara said in passing, turning to the bartender. After all, why not simplify your work? — From one of my friends. Maybe you know him? Hoffner...
— Yes, miss, — the bartender smiled professionally. — Our regular customer.
— Really? — Mara skillfully expressed surprise. — It's strange that I don't see him among the casino clients.
— He's gone, — the bartender said simply. — Lost again and went with a lady to his room. You missed him by literally an hour. He got pretty drunk, of course, but at least this time he didn't have to drag him to his room.
A talkative and informed employee is the bread and butter of any enterprise. And even the Empire — how many of these chatterboxes did Mara personally silence forever? But now she needs this boy — he can greatly facilitate her work.
She spent almost all the time she had available searching — the Nemesis will arrive in about ten or twenty minutes. And by this time, Hoffner should already be ready to move to a less comfortable room.
And this guy seems to be arranging his personal life, while spending crazy money. I wonder where he got it from? And in such a volume — to be a regular customer... If her memory serves her right, then such an attitude towards visitors is shown after several years of stable "cooperation". And if so, then how is it that a person who loses "to zero", judging by the bartender's reaction...
It is necessary to find out exactly where Hoffner is located. Hacking into the cruise liner's computer network is not the best idea. It is probably well protected — considering such a large number and the contingent of clients... Hmm, I wonder how Thrawn found out that this person was here? And what does he need him for?
Well, she will add these questions to her list. And she will announce it by the time she meets him in person. And she had no doubts about the latter.
— Are you having any problems? — asked the bartender. Mara mentally cursed, realizing that she had thought too much and her emotions were reflected on her face. She was losing her grip.
— Yes, — during her career as the Emperor's personal agent, she had played out various pre-prepared scenarios more than once or twice to achieve what she wanted. And she has a lot of ready-made schemes in stock. She was going to demonstrate one of them now. — Can you help me?
— If it's in my power, — the bartender smiled.
— I would like to know which cabin Hoffner is in, — she said. The bartender shook his head in the negative.
— Sorry, I can't share this information with you, — he said. — We do not disclose personal data of customers.
— Yes, but you would help me a lot, — she smiled, adding longing to her facial expression. — You see, Hoffner is my fiancé. He proposed, and my father is ready to marry me to him. The wedding is about to take place, but if Hoffner is cheating on me... You are a decent young man — I realized that at first glance! And you perfectly understand that if I marry someone who is not faithful to me, then I will be disgraced! And in our circles, such a stain cannot be washed away — even if we divorce, I will never be able to arrange my fate again...
She extended her hand across the counter towards the bartender. He continued to polish the glass, not taking his eyes off her. He was pondering what she had said to him. Small psychological tricks — appealing to self-esteem. Will it work... or will she have to take both stormtroopers and break down the doors in every cabin?
— Number eleven-thirty-eight, first class, — he leaned forward, covering her hand with a towel. Mara smiled and pushed a chip worth a thousand credits towards him. It is unlikely that this guy earns such an amount in a week, so he will be happy with the gift. — I am always for honesty between partners.
— I will remember that, — Mara smiled playfully, winking at him. The image of an ambiguous beautiful aristocrat often helped her out. Now it remained to embellish the legend as it should. — If you see Hoffner with a trace of a woman's palm on his face — drop by me after your shift. Number ten-twenty.
— I'm off in seven hours, — the guy touched her fingers encouragingly. It seems that he had no doubt that he would have a good time tonight. After all, even the position of a toy in the hands of a wealthy aristocrat may turn out to be a much more prosperous future for him compared to working here.
— I'll remember, — the girl winked at the bartender and headed for the exit. The chip with credits disappeared in the folds of the towel.
After leaving the doors of the gaming room, the girl took a small powder box from her clutch, pretending that she intended to powder her nose. In fact, this simple-looking device remained one of the few that she had left since the glorious times of working for the Emperor. And she had not parted with them for all the past time.
The disguised holocommunicator projected a small figure of one of the stormtroopers. The size of a little finger, it was conveniently covered with a powder box lid.
— What are the instructions? — the Imperial asked.
— Number eleven-thirty-eight, — she said. — The target is presumably there. Block, but do not storm. We will start at the same time as the Nemesis arrives.
— Yes, ma'am, — the figure disappeared.
Mara approached the doors of the turbolift. She has half a minute to return to her room, a couple of minutes to put on a more practical combat jumpsuit made of their fabric armor. And a few minutes to get to Hoffner's cabin and assess the situation.
And then the fun will begin.
***
The baron was silent for a while. Judging by the fact that his face was trying not to express any significant emotions, my answer surprised him. Well, I do not intend to adapt to the worldview of every first ruler of the sector, just to get something significant from him. I am ready to spend money to get the resources I need. I am ready for mutually beneficial cooperation — within acceptable limits, of course.
But not to flirt with the rich.
I know what they don't know. And I'm not sure that talking about mythical conquerors from a distant galaxy would be reasonable — those who are smarter will demand proof. After all, modern science has already proven the fact that it is very, very difficult to leave the galaxy — the gravitational anomaly blocks the operation of the hyperdrive and it will take an unjustifiably long time in subjective terms to overcome it. Not everyone will dare to do that. And even fewer will succeed.
But among the not-so-smart "comrades", I won't be believed at all. Self-importance and ossified views are what hinders development. And I don't want to fight it. I am sure that there are many planets, systems and sectors in the galaxy that, for one reason or another, will want to become part of the restructured Empire. The way I see it. But now I am not able to build such a state. Which does not exclude the fact of carefully probing the soil and the environment in order to find allies in my endeavor. I have time before Palpatine's resurrection.
— What is your opinion based on, Grand Admiral? — asked the baron. — On the potential power of the New Republic? On their numerical superiority?
— On logic, — I refuted the assumptions. — The Galactic Empire occupied much more space, had a huge military fleet and army. But we were defeated. Not even a decade has passed since the moment of the Emperor's death, and most of the sectors of the galaxy have united around those whom we call rebels. Moreover, among them there are not only territories of exotics that the New Order oppressed, but also human systems. The same Kuat, for example. The Emperor relied on them, they were the main contractor of our military-industrial complex. What made them abandon us, turning into a semi-independent state that is loyal to the New Republic?
— Force? — suggested the baron. By his look, I realized that he himself understood the true answer. But he is testing me. An interesting man. With brains. Such a person could be useful to me. But for this, it is worth first understanding what exactly he himself wants.
— Kuat owns a fleet that neither the Imperial Space nor the New Republic can break, — I reminded. — Without huge losses, of course. They are attracted by the orders of the New Republicans, that's for sure. The Kuati are entrepreneurs and income is as important to them as their own prosperity. They would not have been able to hold out in their capacity for so many millennia, multiplying their wealth and developing technologies, if they had not calculated their steps in advance. It is no coincidence that they maintain a position of benevolent neutrality towards the New Republic — this brings them income and stability. If the Empire tries to conquer them, they will be able to repel the attack and demand protection from the New Republic. And they will not be denied. And now let's look at the situation from the other side. What can the Empire offer them? Without going into details — much less than our opponents. Therefore, their choice is the New Republic. Simple pragmatism. I have no doubt that over time they will join the young state as full members. The confederal structure of the New Republic allows them to pursue their own domestic policy, and this suits them.
— My daughter is a member of the Imperial Ruling Council, — the baron said unexpectedly. — In secret, I will tell you that they have information that Kuat has already begun the process of joining the New Republic. It's just that it's not advertised.
— Kuat is just a clear example, — I explained. — Other sectors are looking for similar benefits from their suzerain state. The galaxy has been at war for many years. Sectors pass from hand to hand. The simple population is already simply tired of the constantly changing government. Therefore, they make a choice in relation to those who have a future. And these are not the current Imperial Remnants.
— Grand Moff Ardus Kaine might disagree with you, — Baron D'asta noted, watching my reaction.
— That is his right, — I answered neutrally. — In my opinion, the biggest mistake in the implementation of the Emperor's plan to build the Galactic Empire was that this power was imposed by force with unilateral benefit. He destroyed the Old Republic, but in fact everything remained as it was. We are not talking about solving the issue of piracy or the slave trade, which the Empire fought extremely harshly. And this is a plus, without a doubt. But at the same time, the Empire used slaves. Double standards make sentient beings think about the question — will they be the next when the Empire wants to build a new "Death Star." And this encourages them to resist their fears. Even if they are illusory.
— Suppose, — the baron stated. — But what solution do you offer? To surrender the territories to the New Republic? To capitulate?
— Absolutely not, — I stated. — To change domestic policy to a more benevolent one. Tell me, baron, how many representatives of non-human races live on the territory of the D'astan sector?
— Hundreds, if not thousands, — the aristocrat replied with interest.
— Are they your slaves? — I asked.
— No, — understanding flashed in his eyes. — Workers in enterprises.
— Let's look at this from a pragmatic point of view, — I suggested. This man is interesting. He quite deftly intercepted the initiative of the negotiations, "feeling" me before moving on to discussing my own proposals that led me to Nez Peron. — Any state rests primarily on its population. By humiliating some races, we create an excuse for a social explosion, breed disgruntled people. It was from these disgruntled people that the Alliance for the Restoration of the Republic was created. By breaking the Empire, they did not make it better — they returned everything to its origins. The same embezzlement, bureaucracy, inefficiency of the state apparatus. But sentient beings are ready to put up with this — at least for now, because they know what the alternative can be — a slave position under the New Order. And at the same time, there are examples of when the Empire was loyal to non-humans, because they were useful to it. My bodyguard is a representative of such a race.
— Quite interesting, by the way, — the baron said. — I've never seen such ones.
Ignoring the aristocrat's hint that he would like to learn more about the Noghri, I continued:
— The New Republic has shown us an example of how non-human races can be as useful in state affairs as humans. Their commander-in-chief, Admiral Ackbar, is a Mon Calamari who was with Grand Moff Tarkin as a disenfranchised slave. But he adopted all the best qualities of Tarkin, which speaks of his outstanding talents. He grew up and more than once demonstrated to us that his ability to win is not a set of tactical techniques that he could have learned from Tarkin. This is a way of thinking. Representatives of his race are building a fleet for the New Republic, which successfully resists our Star Destroyers. Which, in turn, were created by outstanding shipbuilders. The Verpine, for example, are excellent engineers who are able to see the marriage of metal without any devices. The Colicoids created combat vehicles that we also did not disdain to use — because they were effective. The Neimoidians actually created their own state, if we apply a simplified interpretation to the Trade Federation, which was absorbed by the Empire after the end of the Clone Wars. The Givins are excellent mathematicians who can at least plot hyperspace routes — which they did in the Clone War for the Trade Federation and other separatists. The cyborg General Grievous, who commanded the droid army before his prosthetics, was a successful commander in his homeland. And he was able to deliver a lot of trouble to the Old Republic during the Clone Wars. There are thousands of such examples. Doesn't this mean that these sentient beings deserve at least attention? And now let's imagine what would have happened to the Rebel Alliance if the Empire had not pursued a policy of oppression against non-human races?
— You tell me, — the baron suggested. — The Alliance would not have been formed?
— On the contrary, — I noted. — It is people who are behind its creation. Those who are dissatisfied with the usurpation of power. No ideology was the basis for the formation of the Alliance. Simple pragmatism. The Alliance was formed against usurpation and the trampling of freedoms. It is impossible to eradicate the disgruntled — only to curb their number. But the Empire could have avoided such a large-scale Rebellion if it had not been for the policy of the New Order. Why should someone who has a job, civil rights and freedoms, is protected by law, and knows how severely the authorities will treat him if he joins the rebels rebel? Yes, there will be those who want to — but this will be only a poorly organized crowd, which is easy to deal with. Because those who are able to calculate their actions in advance will not get involved in such adventures — for the most part. The reasoning is, of course, abstract, since this is a complex issue, rather than a categorical one. But I am sure that if the Empire did not use the same Mon Calamari as slaves, their star liners would not have been converted into star cruisers. In the size of the fleet — for sure.
— Interesting conclusions, Grand Admiral, — Baron D'asta said after a pause. — You yourself are not a human. What you are talking about — is it your personal experience due to persecution during your service or something else?
— Logic and nothing more, — I stated. — Troubles temper the character and allow you to objectively spend your resources to counter them. So your hint that my point of view, which contradicts the official Imperial one, is an attempt to take revenge on the Empire for some conditional persecution, you are wrong. The Empire made me who I am now. I am grateful to her for that. And it is strange to me that after all that has happened, people who are positioned by the New Order as the highest race have not been able to learn lessons from past mistakes and draw conclusions about the destructiveness of a number of their current concepts.
— Not all, — the baron noted laconically, looking me in the eye. — So, are you sure that the abolition of the Empire's anthropocentric policy can have a positive success?
— I am sure that we should learn from our mistakes so as not to repeat them again and again, — a diplomatic and vague answer in which everyone will find something for themselves. — That is why I believe that we should not continue the war against the New Republic in the current conditions. In order for the Empire to survive, we must change it.
— But you are continuing the military campaign against Coruscant, — the baron noted. — This contradicts your position on peace talks.
— Which peace is more stable? — I asked. — When the weak negotiates with the strong, and the latter knows that the former needs peace much more than he does? When the strong knows that he can continue to put pressure and eventually get everything? Or will negotiations between two equal sides in strength and political weight be more acceptable, where each understands that the continuation of the war will only lead to unnecessary victims and discontent among the population?
— The population of the galaxy is mostly apathetic to the power that rules them, — the baron noted. — Sentient beings are ready to work for anyone.
— And we are again returning to the experience of the emergence of the Rebel Alliance, — I noted. — The main mass of the population is indifferent to those who rule them, content with the realization of their small needs. The minority wants power and knows how to take advantage of the situation. And among them there are always those who will resist any legitimate power for the sake of their personal ambitions. And if they find support in the hearts of sentient beings tired of devastation — a new civil war will begin. The idea that it is worth overthrowing the old government that led them to this, putting a new one in place and everything will immediately be fine — is absurd in its nature. But it works — yesterday's rebels are ruling the galaxy. The peoples are groaning from the conditions of their miserable existence, but they are ready to wait, hoping for a bright future. And when their expectations are exhausted — a new uprising will erupt. And yesterday's liberators will become today's oppressors. The circle is closed. The wheel of events has made a full revolution and returned to its starting point.
The baron looked at me with a long, wary gaze. He was silent. He was thinking.
He sighed heavily.
— My daughter informed me that the Imperial Ruling Council is considering your candidacy for the post of the new Emperor, — he said. I did not react in any way. Firstly, I already know this, and secondly, it will not happen. — Even without knowing your thoughts, they are ready to put at the head of the anthropocentric state... not quite a human. If they find out what you told me today, if they understand that you are not going to fight until the victorious end in order to return the Empire to where it all began... Ardus Kaine will become the new Emperor. And the chance for an end to the war and a normal life will be lost.
— There are always those who cannot live except with thoughts of war, — I noted philosophically. — Even my arrival to you is dictated by military necessity.
— It was clear without words, — the baron frowned, looking away. — I'm not young anymore, Grand Admiral. My time will come to an end someday. And I would like to see a calm sky above my head, and not the carcasses of orbital stations and a fleet in orbit, waiting for the New Republic to run out of patience and they come. I want to see my daughter happy and I don't want her, like me, to live her whole life in war. You came for support, Grand Admiral. I am ready to give it to you — within reasonable limits. But in return you must promise that you will achieve peace with the New Republic.
— It is not within my power, — I noted. — Among us and among them, there always have been, there are, and there will be those who want revenge in this war. Without mutual desire, there will be no agreement. All I can do is to make efforts to make it happen.
— Therefore, you intend to beat them, to force them to peace, — the baron reminded me of my own words. I only nodded affirmatively and barely noticeably. — This could take many months.
— It would be more correct to say — years, — I clarified. — The Imperial Space has limited me in resources and there is no need to expect a quick result. You must understand that at any moment the militaristic part of the Imperial Remnants may realize what exactly is behind my actions. And then the consequences for me and my allies will be unpredictable at best.
— Don't worry about me, Grand Admiral, — the baron smirked. — My sector cannot be cracked by any enemy. Even the New Republic.
"And even more so — the Empire," I finished the thought for him. This man definitely knows his worth. And he understands what risk he is taking. He cannot but understand that in times of extreme need, the Empire and the New Republic can unite to destroy him. They have already pulled off this trick with Zinj and his state. The second time will be even easier — each side has experience.
— It's lunch time, Grand Admiral, — the man said unexpectedly, looking towards his residence. — I would be glad if you join me. And after the meal, let's talk about business. I am sure we can help each other.
A very interesting phrasing. But, no one hoped that allies would not demand reciprocal services for their help. The best union is the one that is tied by blood.
On the way back, we were silent. Everyone was thinking about their own things. The baron's thoughts are unknown to me. And for some reason I remembered the children's fairy tale "The Wizard of Oz." It seems that today I took the first step towards a beautiful city in which all my problems will be solved.
If only the witch didn't eat me along the way.
***
But things are not so good in place as we would like.
It seems that this area for first-class passengers was allocated for particularly valuable clients of the enterprise. Whose safety was taken care of by the ship's security personnel.
Otherwise, she could not explain the reason why there were as many as two colorful security officers — pumped up and with stern faces, and with weapons in their hands — in the corridor.
But most of all, she was annoyed by the presence of two supposedly bored men in expensive suits, having a casual conversation in the corridor. They were standing leaning against the wall of the corridor and seemed relaxed. But Mara easily identified weapons for concealed carrying on both of them, attached to the inner surface of their jackets. And very obvious habits of bodyguards.
The only question is — whose people are these? Hoffner's guards? Maybe. If he regularly loses huge sums in the casino, then there is an assumption that the ship's management allowed him to have security on exclusive terms. But they are standing too far away from number eleven-thirty-eight. And that means something is clearly wrong. If this is a permanent guard, then the security service should not look at them with such a tenacious look.
Or maybe they are guarding someone else? For example, the girl with whom Hoffner secluded himself. Or maybe they are not at all related to the current situation and their goal is in one of the rooms closest to their location. Bodyguards would have done that... But officially hired bodyguards would not use hidden weapons. If there is an agreement with the management of this establishment, it would be enough for them to carry weapons in simple operational holsters under their armpits...
And this couple is clearly trying to make it look like they are simple and peaceful guests. If Mara had not seen something like this in the past, she would not have paid much attention to the couple.
An alarming thought stirred in the back of her memory.
These guys are not bodyguards.
They are agents. Although they are trained professionally, there is carelessness in their actions. Such are allowed by experienced spies — young and experienced employees would not stand like that, so that the jacket could be seen from a certain angle.
Professional negligence or...
She wanted to slap herself in the face.
She remembered where she had already seen a similar disregard for secrecy.
CorSec agents — the special service and law enforcement agency of Corellia. Like any Corellians, CorSec people loved fast ships, risk, spat on caution, and had phenomenal luck. Which, as they say, came from their desire to treat all their problems in life with a large dose of stoic indifference.
So, Hoffner is needed by someone else. Probably — CorSec. Why?
A rhetorical question. We'll take him — we'll find out.
— We have problems, — she whispered to both operatives after she walked down the corridor, pretending that she was lost. The benevolent security officers explained to her that the cabin she was looking for with a number invented on the go was on another deck. Which is what the girl was counting on — her stylized combat suit did not attract much attention. After all, there were no vibro-knives, thermal detonators, or blasters sticking out of every pocket. Well, a rich girl wants to walk around in a form-fitting jumpsuit — let her. Surely the security personnel have seen worse in their time. — Hoffner is needed by someone else.
They talked in a small vestibule in front of the elevator. There were no cameras here, and those that were directed in their direction did not affect anything important. It's another matter when the elevator doors open — then they will fall into the field of view of the camera in the cabin.
— Orders? — asked one of the stormtroopers.
— Move around, — she ordered, looking at one of her henchmen. — Cut off the retreat routes in one direction. You, — a look towards the second fighter, — will enter from this side. I'll run back down the corridor, as if running away from you. Make a mean face, — the stormtrooper bared his teeth. — Not that much. Okay, it's not for theatrical sketches. General task: first, we'll knock out the two in suits — they are more dangerous than the security service. As soon as we get weapons, after neutralizing the targets — we move to Hoffner's cabin. We can't allow him to get to the escape pods! We're starting now, before the Nemesis arrives — otherwise there will be panic...
She didn't have time to finish. A low hum and rumble, like a distant roar... of engines.
— They're already here, — Mara sighed. — Everyone, take your places.
Hastily, but without unnecessary fuss, the first stormtrooper, who was supposed to cut off the retreat routes, moved towards his goal. Mara, ruffling her hair, rushed in the opposite direction down the corridor, doing her best to portray herself as a victim of a failed attack. Figuring that the first stormtrooper needed some time, she slowed down at the turn and waited a dozen seconds. She screamed piercingly a few times.
Turning into the right corridor, she rushed to the couple in expensive suits.
— Help! Please! I beg you! Help!
The men were momentarily confused, after which Mara rushed into their arms. A simple psychological calculation.
— Lady, what's going on? — one of them asked sullenly. But at that moment, a stormtrooper came out from around the corner with a face contorted with rage. That is, in his usual state. — Hey, you, what do you want from the lady?
— Gentlemen! — the security officers headed towards them, intending to sort out the situation before the clients start asking about what was happening. — Get away from the girl! All of you!
Mara noted that the second stormtrooper had already appeared behind the backs of the couple of "guards". Who would have thought that this guy could move so silently?
And at that moment, the cruise liner seemed to shudder slightly with its entire hull.
Receiving confirmation from Mara with a slight nod of her head, the first stormtrooper rushed at the couple in suits. And the second attacked the backs of the security officers.
— Lady, step aside! — demanded the man in a suit, to whom the girl had pressed herself "in search of protection." And he even tried to set her aside, hugging her by the shoulders.
"Definitely a Corellian," she realized, performing a painful technique on his mischievous limb. The man groaned in pain, arched, following the trajectory of his hand, immediately receiving a knee kick in the face and throwing himself against the wall.
The second one, hearing the noise behind his back, turned around, trying to pull out his blaster on the go. And in the same second, the second stormtrooper's fist hit him in the back of the head. Judging by how the man went limp, the blow was not without great force.
The ship shuddered again.
There was another roar, this time not so distant. It seems that the Nemesis has got its aim right.
Mara turned around, barely staying on her feet. The first stormtrooper had already broken the neck of one of the guards, and was fighting with the second. Mara with an accurate shot hit the "guard" in the leg.
— Run! — she ordered, seeing that both of her companions had weapons in their hands. And the one who fought with both security officers — two blasters at once.
Burning out the door lock is a matter of seconds.
The first stormtrooper kicked the door open and rushed inside Hoffner's cabin. There was gunfire. Mara tumbled in after him, letting a volley of scarlet rays pass over her.
With an unimaginable acrobatic pirouette, she moved away from the line of fire of the enemy shooter, noticing that it was a middle-aged woman. Hiding behind the partition, she waited for a moment, sharply changed her height, sat down, peeked out from behind cover at the very moment when the first stormtrooper opened fire to suppress from the other end of the cabin. The woman hid. For a moment she froze, realizing the disadvantage of her position...
Mara did not let her change her mind.
A scarlet beam of energy pierced the stranger's throat, and she collapsed to the floor.
Perfectly knowing that the second stormtrooper was guarding the entrance to the cabin, the red-haired beauty came out from behind her cover.
— Who the hell are you?! — came the voice from somewhere below the first stormtrooper.
Mara glanced at the fighter sitting on something.
— Captain Hoffner? — she grinned.
Captain Hoffner.
— Yes, — said the man. Swarthy skin, short haircut, expensive clothes, exquisitely trimmed facial hair. An attempt by a man of low origin to pass himself off as a rich man. How boring. — Who are you, and what do you want from me?!
He was lying face down, and the stormtrooper's knee was pressing his neck from behind. Very painful, if you remember the hand-to-hand combat skills that fighters are trained in on Carida. Mara herself had taken a similar training course in her time, so she understood how difficult and painful it is for this man to move now.
— All about later, — the girl smirked.
At that moment, the Coral Vanda shuddered again. This time the roar was accompanied by a groan of tearing and evaporating metal — the Nemesis had breached the hull. And now the crew of the ship has a small choice — either to surface and surrender to the Empire, or to play heroes. But, as far as she understood, there are not many heroes here. Hired workers of non-combat specialties will not risk their skins — they are not paid that much. But the security service...
— We are getting out of here to the escape pods, — she said. The stormtrooper silently pulled handcuffs out of his pants and attached the prisoner to himself with them. Assessing the physique of Hoffner and the Storm Corps fighter, the comparison was clearly not in favor of the former.
— Come with us — you will stay alive, — Mara hissed in the dark-skinned man's ear. — If you disobey my orders — I will kill you on the spot. I wasn't paid for your live delivery. But I am sure that you can overbid this price.
— Yes, yes, of course! — the man said. — There, in the closet! A case! It contains three hundred thousand credits! I don't have any more!
— I'm sure you have something to buy your life with, — the stormtrooper did not react to her words. After all, he is from the naval special forces, a master of boarding battles, and not an intelligence operative. He doesn't even realize that she is now morally pressuring Hoffner's will in order to get as much information from him as possible.
Before leaving, the girl looked in the indicated direction and pulled out a metal case from there, filled to the top with cash. Thin precious plates of various denominations... And judging by the empty space, there were much more of them.
Taking a nice bonus to her work. Mara and her escorts left the cabin. Taking advantage of the panic among the passengers, carefully trying to stay on her feet after another shot from a Star Destroyer, the girl and three men moved towards the escape pods.
***
The turbolasers of the Nemesis spat out another stream of green plasma. Most of it went to evaporate the ocean above the carcass of the underwater liner, but it did "knock" on the hull.
Watching the trajectories of the shots on the holographic display, Captain von Schneider grinned:
— Inform the gunners — let them use the second turret.
— Yes, sir!
A second later, eight more turbolaser beams fell on the oblong cylindrical body of the Coral Vanda. After a couple of seconds — another eight...
— Second hull breach! — they reported from the "pits".
The captain quickly glanced at the monitor. Now a huge amount of water is flowing into the cruise liner. And very soon the casino will either float to the surface or drown.
Although, given how many rich people are on board — and on fifteen first-class decks and thirty second-class decks there were more than five hundred cabins — they will prefer to try to slip away, rather than surrender to the Empire. The team of this vessel certainly managed to identify the ship. And it is unlikely that they think that a Republican ship is deliberately putting them on the brink of death.
— Is the landing party in place? — he clarified.
— Six squads in transport ships are already above the ocean surface, waiting for the surfacing, — came the answer. And a moment later — another one:
— Sir! Registered one escape pod on the surface. They are transmitting our identification codes! We are deciphering the code transmission... "The bird is in the cage."
— Send a ship after them, — von Schneider ordered. So, the task has been completed. — Continue shelling until they surface.
— What if we drown it? — the senior artilleryman asked distrustfully.
— Then we'll call the stormtroopers back to the ship, — Schneider gave a logical answer. — In any case, it will look as prescribed by the Grand Admiral...
— They are surfacing, — came a voice from another "pit". — The ballast is being purged.
— Well, give the stormtroopers the order to act as quickly and harshly as possible, — Schneider ordered, looking at the chronometer. They had spent a good ten minutes on this vessel. Considering that the rebels will arrive here in three hours, we don't have much time. — But the task must be completed in any case.
Ten minutes after the departure of the Nemesis, two Mon Calamari star cruisers arrived, escorted by an escort. But all they had left was to watch as the fire-torn hulls of the Coral Vanda cruise liner and the escape pods belonging to it rested at the bottom of the ocean. The Empire staged another painful raid into the rear of the New Republic, killing a considerable number of its wealthy citizens, including several high-ranking military officers who were spending their vacations here. However, no matter how hard the New Republic intelligence struggled to find out through which channels this information leaked, they did not achieve results. The Coral Vanda, raised from the bottom, could not clarify this issue — the Imperial butchers destroyed all the data banks before sinking the liner.
The rebels also did not learn that before destroying all the witnesses of their attack, the Imperials had enriched themselves by more than two hundred million credits.