Moff Ferrus' residence was built by his predecessor. Thoroughly, according to all the rules of fortification.
The thickness of the walls, made of super-strong building material, ensured that they would not be destroyed by any serious fire. The lower floors were a real labyrinth of corridors and rooms, built in such a way that it was convenient to conduct battles in them. The presence of shelters styled as Imperial decor, columns, ceilings – all designed to ensure that the fighters inside the building had maximum cover. But the attackers would have a hard time – the "designer" fortifications were built with the idea of providing advantages to those who were inside the building. Apparently, the builders assumed that in the event of a war, only Imperials would be in this building. Because if the enemy managed to capture the building, which looked like a simple squat rectangular pyramid, then the Imperials themselves would be covered in blood during the assault.
I noticed all this on the go, accompanied by Rukh, as we moved along the corridors to the underground levels. Casemates in which heavy weapons arsenals were located, barracks of stormtroopers guarding the residence, the central computer, utility and communication systems... The sacred rule: "Hide everything valuable underground." Peculiarities of the psychology and thinking of people striving to place the most important values for them where they will be the most difficult to find. Considering the numerous checkpoints on each floor of the residence, which had turned into duracrete bunkers, as soon as we got to the first underground floor, it immediately became clear – it would be very difficult for hypothetical enemies to break through here with a fight. Especially considering the heavy repeating blaster emplacements. Specifically "repeating blasters", not "machine guns".
There are certain misunderstandings with weapons in a galaxy far, far away — at first glance.
The most common type of damaging element in ship and small arms is... plasma. To create it, tibanna gas is used, through which a charge of energy is passed, the power of which can vary on most types of weapons – from a blaster pistol to a turbolaser. I didn't completely understand the process, but as far as I understood, after the formation of plasma with the help of an energy discharge, the resulting substance is enclosed in a kind of magnetic cocoon, as a result of which not a shapeless charge of something unsuitable flies into the target, but an elongated projectile, similar in shape to a segment of light. This is called a "blaster bolt." Or turbolaser bolt. Or laser bolt — it all depends on the type of weapon.
The rate of fire of small arms is not very high compared to the firearms I was used to in my past life. Otherwise, the burst would merge into one continuous stream of energy — until the tibanna gas cartridge is empty or the power cell in the blaster is depleted. It is clear that on modern ships the principle of storing energy and gas is different than in blasters. However, during the Clone Wars, powerful guns were widely used that were not powered by one huge reactor or power unit, but used "ammunition" with tibanna inside. Such a "projectile" was placed in a weapon, energy was supplied to the gas, a shot was fired, the empty container was ejected like a spent cartridge.
There are also "slugthrowers" in the universe – this is what firearms are called here. The principle of operation is the same – pushing bullets out of cartridges under the influence of expanding gases of a chemical reaction. "Slugthrowers" have their advantages compared to blaster weapons — they easily pierce light or fabric armor (again, in modern times — in specific cases). But the global disadvantage has not been overcome even in a galaxy far, far away.
The weight of ammunition.
One power cell and gas cartridge in a standard Imperial E-11 blaster rifle was enough for several hundred shots, which is equivalent to a good battle. At the same time, the weight of such containers is the same as that of one magazine of a Makarov pistol. If my memory serves me right, the latter weighs a little less than one hundred grams, eighty or so. And this is only eight shots. A fighter in battle takes several power cells and gas cartridges – depending on the unit in which he serves. But in any case, even if a soldier carries one kilogram of power cells and the same amount of gas cartridges, this will be enough for him to conduct continuous fire for several days, if not more. At least I encountered such mentions in reports on prolonged battles during the Clone Wars. In this time, there are practically no such protracted operations as months of sieges or blockades.
So, despite the fact that slugthrowers are still relevant – and even widespread in the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions, preference is given to blasters. Simply because the weight of ammunition for battles lasting several hours of continuous firing when using a "slugthrower" turns out to be prohibitive. Therefore, such a technique as "barrage fire" is widely used — you don't actually need to worry about the fact that in an instant, at the height of "shooting at the area," you will run out of ammunition. Not to mention the fact that thanks to the magnetic field surrounding the plasma after a shot, depending on the power of the latter, there is also a kinetic stopping effect, capable not only of burning through and piercing the armor and reaching the body, and there – causing damage, but also of overturning or throwing back the affected target.
However, I'm sure there are other reasons for abandoning firearms, but… At least I couldn't find them during a superficial study of the issue.
Well, as in my past life: bows and crossbows have a place and are even effective, but firearms have supplanted them in widespread use in most countries of the world.
So, "repeating blasters" are the same as "blaster machine guns". They have a massive power unit and a container with tibanna, thanks to which they can conduct long bursts with blaster bolts, the power of which is much higher than that of a standard blaster shot. There are also manual counterparts, but the fact remains — the Imperial infantry and the Stormtrooper Corps have "large-caliber machine guns" in their arsenal. Against which only very good and very expensive armor can save you.
Actually, for this reason, the prison level was under the sights of heavy emplaced repeating blasters, and the "machine gunners" were behind duracrete caps-bunkers. Reading the description of duracrete, permacrete, ferrocrete and similar materials, I really wanted to say "asphalt", "concrete", since they were very similar in consistency and appearance. Except for the fact that permacrete roads were not washed away as soon as the snow melted. They don't repair them endlessly here in the Empire. In construction, the Empire has the principle – "build once and forget". However, we should not forget that corruption in Palpatine's state was the same as under the democratic system of the Old Republic. And some ISB reports available in the archives indicated that the scale of this "enterprise" under Palpatine was almost greater than during the Republic. Only in the military sphere — noticeably lower. By orders of magnitude.
Well, this is all just musing... But it is useful to learn from time to time in order to understand how much I can be mistaken in my judgments, based on the books I have read about this universe. Because in most cases, all the work of writers covering the "post-Endor period" focused on seeing the situation from the position of the heroes of the New Republic, for whom the Empire is almost the scourge of everything and a synonym for absolute evil.
I had already managed to make sure of this before meeting C'baoth, when I was killing time studying the issues of slavery and other internal policies of the Empire, in order to better understand "where exactly things went wrong." And even from superficial reports, it became clear to me that it was not so categorical that "the Empire oppressed non-humans." Those who rebelled – yes, were punished. But with most of the other races who obeyed Imperial policy... The difference was not so significant. The "global oppression" that I spoke about with Baron D'Asta was only observed in some sectors and systems. But in the first years of its existence, and after the Battle of Yavin, Endor - yes, the Imperials were "tightening the screws". But not on the scale that had formed in my head. However, it was this image that was supported by the propaganda of the New Republic – they passed off specific cases as "systemic". And, as you know, if you repeat the same thing often, over time it will be perceived as the truth.
So, it cannot be said that the Empire is a "prison of peoples". Not "good", of course, as the New Republic positions itself, but not so bad. Significantly "not so much".
Of course, "a pig will always find dirt," but such intriguing data required significant verification. On the one hand, the Imperials could have thoroughly cleaned up their archives, and the Republicans could have hyperbolized what was happening. Everyone pursues their own goals, and this is normal.
One way or another, but in matters of foreign and domestic policy, I should not be as categorical as I was in my conversation with the Baron. It is curious that he did not correct me. Why? Because he agrees? Or because he thinks I'm a fool? Or does he know perfectly well that Thrawn appeared in the Imperial Space not so long ago, after Endor, when the policy of humanocentrism was gaining momentum in its most perverse form? After all, it is no coincidence that now in the Imperial Remnant the largest part of the residents are humans and representatives of races that are extremely close to them genetically. And "non-humans", even if they live in the Empire, are still "second-class" and the best they can achieve is to occupy not the most important positions in the Imperial bureaucracy. And if we "put aside" these particular cases, then we must state that non-human races in the Empire are currently only a source of taxes and labor resources in industry.
This needs to be sorted out. And we shouldn't delay – there could be extremely negative consequences. And I should also "enrich" myself with a significant amount of information about "how it was". So that "it becomes" much better. If it turns out to be a feasible task, of course.
And the Morshdine sector, given the presence of "non-human races" in it, can always be used as a testing ground for an updated domestic policy. In the end, it will still come under the control of the Republic after the Battle of Bilbringi...
I felt that I should swear a lot.
The Battle of Bilbringi is the end of Thrawn in the events known to me. The New Republic attacked these shipyards in the hope of obtaining a mechanism that would allow them to neutralize the invisible asteroids with which Thrawn had blocked Coruscant, dropping them onto the planetary shield of the New Republic's capital. And as a result of the capture of Bilbringi, the Republicans, after the death of Thrawn, also subjugated Tangrene and the entire Morshdine sector. But, considering that I planned to make the campaign in the Sluis Van system the "last battle", it is so obvious that they will conquer the sector. As well as capture Bilbringi and its shipyards. And it is with the latter that a curious episode of the attempted capture of the Lusankya is connected... Which is still unknown where it is and is undergoing repairs after the events on Tyferra a year ago, when Isanne Isard was defeated. At least that's what the Republicans and Imperials firmly believe. And only three people in the galaxy know the truth about her fate. And the truth, paradoxically, is fifteen or so. I'm one of them. But not the real Thrawn, but his self-proclaimed successor.
— The prisoner has been delivered to the interrogation room, Grand Admiral, — the shift leader of the stormtroopers on duty in the prison block of the casemates informed me. Encased in snow-white armor, he stood next to a massive metal door, behind which the desired room was hidden.
And there was no need to clarify who exactly was being referred to. These chambers were created to hold political and especially important prisoners. The former had not been observed here since Moff Ferrus came to power – the Ubictorate preferred to use their own secret prisons. But the latter category had changed from "zero" to "one detainee" an hour ago.
Following inside the interrogation room, I made sure that Rukh followed me. The door slammed shut behind us, leaving only four sentients in the small, almost cubic room. And only three of them are humans.
Rukh habitually stayed behind my back, sitting down next to the entrance, to my right. I took a seat behind a small metal table, on the other side of which a dark-skinned man sat on a chair welded to the floor. His face expressed a certain degree of suspicion and fear. There were several bruises and scratches on his face — the traces of his attempt to escape from Mara Jade and her support group. Actually, because of this, the man is now chained with handcuffs to a metal loop, also welded to the table. The fourth sentient, standing by the right wall of the interrogation room (presumably for this reason Rukh chose his position) was Mara Jade, clad in a tight-fitting black jumpsuit. The golden-red hair of this woman framed a very attractive face, and green eyes looked at me so attentively, so pointedly penetratingly...
Yes, this woman is beautiful. And dangerous. Very dangerous.
And she also really wanted to talk to me before this meeting. But I refused. Not only because it was necessary to return C'baoth and ysalamiri to the Chimera under the guard of stormtroopers – under no circumstances could we allow the mad Jedi to know about the very existence of Force-sensitive sentients in my environment – whether it was the corsair Tiberius, or Mara Jade. In case of such a failure, one could forget about using this damn dangerous old man to increase my own military power and distract a number of Republican heroes from the active events that are about to happen. Yes, many of the heroes of the New Republic have an enviable degree of luck and simply irrational luck. How often their opponents, seemingly not lacking in intelligence, simply got into trouble and lost everything? Every other one. I call it "plot armor". And I must admit, I don't have a desire to test its work on my own skin. No way. If I am right and a certain category of sentients in this galaxy are kissed on the head by the Force itself, and it is impossible to get rid of them in a simple way, then why not use this feature where I need it?
I refused a direct meeting with this beautiful woman in all respects because I also had to prepare for the questions she would ask me. I understood this from the very second when I was trying to enlist her support during a meeting on Myrkr. And now it does not matter much that she fulfilled my order and captured the prisoner.
If I don't succeed in convincing her to become my supporter of her own free will, she will be lost. Of course, you can always find options on how to use her genetic material in case of refusal, but something tells me that as long as the originals of Force-sensitive sentients are alive, their clones will not be lucky.
It is very tempting to get a blood sample from Mara Jade and make several of her clones. But... these will only be empty shells, devoid of the original's memories. Yes, you can copy the mind of Jade herself, as we do with all donors for Spaarti cylinders. But wouldn't it create a monster like C'baoth in this case? The ability of ysalamiri to reflect the Force is undoubtedly great, but will it work? I preferred to leave the idea of cloning Force-sensitive sentients, if there is a living original that can be used in my purposes, as a reserve.
Let's see what we agree on with the original Jade. If she is faithful, she will remain in a single copy. If not...
Well, it's never too late to back up with a clone.
I want to get her voluntary cooperation. That is why she is here, in this interrogation, where, as I plan, the information that she is obliged to hear should be voiced.
— How was your flight, Captain Hoffner? — I asked the black man.
— What do you want from me? — he asked with poorly concealed hatred.
— Information, — I answered simply. Jade continued to drill me with her green eyes. I wonder if she is indignant because I refused to talk to her, or because she was denied interrogation of the prisoner immediately after his capture and during the flight. After all, according to Captain von Schneider's report, this sweet lady was very indignant about this. On board the Coral Vanda, the stormtroopers did not allow her to, and on the Nemesis the crew did not. Actually, deprived of access to the central computer, under constant surveillance, the red-haired beauty was as angry as possible by the time of arrival. Well, it was a commensurate risk - letting her near any panel on board the ship is dangerous for the mission. I remember perfectly from Timothy Zahn's books that this beautiful lady possesses priority access codes to the central computers of Star Destroyers. And this is another reason why I want to get her voluntary help.
— I'm just a man, an Imperial, — Hoffner threw at me. — I don't have anything that could interest you.
— We can go two ways, Captain Hoffner, — I said. — The first is that you voluntarily provide all the information I'm interested in, and even get a certain monetary bonus for it, and a job offer, after completing which you can become a very rich man and go wherever you wish...
— Not a bad choice, — the man chuckled. — You can skip straight to the latter.
— Rukh, — I called the Noghri in an indifferent tone.
Like a gray shadow, the bodyguard overcame the distance separating them and was behind Hoffner. A sinewy hand grabbed the man by the back of the neck and forcefully pressed him to the table.
— You are silent when you are asked questions, — my bodyguard meowed threateningly in his ear. He expressively demonstrated the tip of his knife, which was approaching the man's eye. — Understood?
— Y-yes, yes, I understand! — the man shouted at the moment when Rukh ran the blade flat across his cheekbone. Releasing the prisoner, the Noghri was almost instantly back where he had been before.
Looking at Jade, I noted that her gaze had changed from angry to assessing. She herself had more than once used threats to force sentients to do what they did not want. And it is unlikely that this short impromptu somehow affected her opinion of me.
— As you understood, Captain, the second option is full of pain, — I said. — We are civilized people and I really don't want to resort to it. Therefore, I would like your cooperation on the first of the options I mentioned. Because the second, although it will take more time, will still give me the necessary answers to questions of interest and will save me the funds that I intended to offer you. You understand that in the case of the implementation of the second option, you are unlikely to be able to continue living with the same set of organs and state of health that you have at the moment.
— You... explained everything... very clearly, — licking his broken lips, the dark-skinned man answered me. — What exactly are you interested in?
— A few years ago, you were the commander of a freighter under the command of such a well-known personality as Jorj Car'das, — to refresh the prisoner's memory a little and hint at the degree of my awareness means, in most cases, reducing the interrogation time. The same trick would not work with Carrde or Han Solo - they are too stubborn and independent. But Hoffner, he was made from a completely different mold. This can be seen by his darting eyes, by the insecure, constrained pose in which he sits in front of us. He feels extremely uncomfortable, uncomfortable and fears that things will get even worse.
— Yes, there was such an episode in my life, — Hoffner admitted. If he suspects what will be discussed now, he is trying too intensely to disown this thought.
— A young navigator, named Talon Karrde, was a member of your crew, — when the name of her former boss was mentioned, Mara Jade looked at me with open interest and suspicion. — He is now known as an information dealer and smuggler nicknamed "Claw".
— Yes, he was on my crew, — Hoffner agreed. From the change in his facial expression, he already guessed what the conversation would be about. This kind of audience may seem frivolous, but in fact their brains "cook" better than many others. Especially when their own life is at stake.
— During your joint work, there was a case when, running away from an Imperial patrol, you jumped to random coordinates, — I continued. — And after exiting hyperspace, you stumbled upon ships that you took for another Imperial armada.
Hoffner swallowed loudly. That's it, now he has no more doubts about the reason for his appearance here. And he is scared – in a well-lit room, his pupils dilate under the influence of adrenaline. And the reasons for its excessive appearance are well known to science. And most of the options do not fit into the context of the current situation.
— You already know everything anyway, — the Captain said with a resigned tone. — Why ask... — He jerked back, seeing Rukh deliberately slowly rise to his feet. — Yes-yes-yes! There was such an episode!
— I need the coordinates of this place, — I said calmly.
Hoffner sat silently for a few seconds. He is far from a fool and understood that, in fact, after the answer, he will no longer be needed – as soon as intelligence confirms that the coordinates are correct. And he didn't want to trust me either – the reputation of the Empire does not contribute to mutually beneficial relations. Mr. Calrissian, who participated in the trap set by Darth Vader on Luke Skywalker and his friends in Cloud City on Bespin, worked hard to make this information public among the relevant audience.
— You were talking about a reward, — so, he has already moved from the "Denial" stage to the "Bargaining" stage. Excellent. — How much are you willing to pay me for this information?
— Depending on how quickly we can agree, because these coordinates are available to your former navigator, Talon Karrde, — I said. — And also on how many Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers from the Katana Fleet are in working order, and how many you have already managed to sell to General Garm Bel Iblis.
Mara Jade made an indistinct sound that was difficult to identify in any way. Looking at the girl, I made sure that she was all right. It's just that her beautiful face showed an expression of bewilderment mixed with anger (I hope – towards her former employer) and irritation (and this is clearly a stone in my garden, since I forced her to "play in the dark").
Hoffner, chewing on his broken lips, wiped the blood flowing from his nose, sniffed it, clearing his nasal passages, and then uttered:
— I sold six Dreadnoughts to the Corellians, — his lips formed a contemptuous-bitter smile. Judging by the fact that he was not even trying to look in my direction, he was condemning only himself now. — Four more are now in optimal technical condition, at least they can move under their own power. I sold them for 500,000 credits each.
Which is seven million less than their factory price at the time when these ships were "popular." Now their value rarely exceeds a million in the arms market. Too much investment is required to maintain even one such ship, too large a crew is required, too much cost in finding and purchasing spare parts. And many more "too much".
— You're a business person, Captain, — I said after the smuggler had written the coordinates on the sheet of flimsyplast handed to him. Moreover, he did this in such a way that Mara Jade could not make out what was written. — You couldn't help but hear information that the Empire is acquiring warships. Why didnant, I would at best receive only a tenth of the money for each ship that Bel Iblis offered me. And the Empire... You would simply take them all from me and send me out into the world with empty pockets.
— You shouldn't think in prejudices, — I advised. — At least in relation to me. I buy ships at a fair price. And I'm sure that you couldn't have failed to understand that your financial happiness could not last forever. You would sell a dozen, maybe fifty, a hundred ships, after which they would simply shake you out when they realized that you had more of them than you said.
— Yes, but I would have managed to get a lot of money for those that I could sell, — Hoffner smiled. It seems that Rukh knocked out several of his teeth.
— I gave you my word — you will receive a fair reward for these ships. And for everything, — the former smuggler's eyes widened. — The calculation is simple – two hundred and fifty thousand will be the maximum price for a fully functional Dreadnought. The cost of repairs necessary for each ship will be deducted from this amount of credits. The amount received will be given to you immediately and in cash, if you are so interested in this issue. Also, those funds that my operatives requisitioned from you during detention will be returned to you.
— Generous, — Hoffner did not try to bargain, understanding that this was an offer he could not refuse. — What's the catch?
— Consider it an advance, — I said. — You will be assigned a series of tasks, upon completion of which you will become richer... Let's say... by twenty million credits.
— Are you sure you're an Imperial? — Hoffner clarified, looking at me with suspicion.
— Do you have any doubts? — I inquired, looking at the red-haired green-eyed woman. Judging by the way she squinted her eyes, she was wondering the same question as the smuggler himself.
— None at all, — Hoffner stated. — So, what will my job be?
— It depends on how well you are known among a certain contingent of sentients, — I said. On the one hand, it's wrong to discuss the details of the work of one of my clients in the presence of Mara Jade. But this played into my hands in the rhetoric of our intended conversation, which will surely take place. — How well do you know the black market?
— I know a few guys, — Hoffner shrugged, convincing himself that he was not in danger. — And what is needed?
— To sell a certain type of goods, — I'm not going to go into such details. — Also, I want you to reach out to General Iblis or his people and arrange a new meeting. As I understand it, your negotiations on the Coral Vanda were interrupted?
— Well... yes, — Hoffner glanced at Mara Jade. He reflexively patted himself on the chest. Obviously, the beauty had hit him properly during the capture or during an attempt to slip away. — But there may be problems with this.
— What kind? — I asked.
— They always contacted me themselves, — he said. — I lived on that liner, and our last deal was supposed to be about selling four heavy cruisers.
Even like that… Interesting. I don't recall anything like this happening in the events known to me.
— Do you know the reason why they are looking for these ships? — I asked.
— The Empire started a mess in the Dafilvean sector, — he said. — I understand, Bel Iblis decided to increase the number of ships in his fleet in order to fight back if your ships find him.
— Do you know where his base is? — I was surprised.
— No, — the man shook his head negatively. — We only met on the Coral Vanda. They brought an advance payment for each of the ships at the designated place, I went to the fleet's location point, chose the best Dreadnought and drove it to the place from where I gave them a signal on the coded frequency that was given to me during the meeting. They flew in, gave the second part of the amount, and we parted until the next deal.
— Were you given frequencies for a new meeting? — I asked. It seems that an opportunity has appeared to lure Bel Iblis into a trap. And if not him, then one of his henchmen.
— No, — Hoffner dashed my hopes for an easy victory. Well, if one option cannot be implemented, it does not necessarily mean that others will not work. For example, the coordinator Sergius on New Cov may be much luckier. Or... Frequencies... Six deals. After each one, the smuggler contacted the buyers. Now the buyers, of course, already know about what happened on the Coral Vanda, in particular about the death of their contractors. But do they know that Hoffner is with me? It is unlikely, but this option should not be dismissed immediately. On the contrary, it can be used. But it will only work if the Corellians don't know about Hoffner's capture. And they will track the previous frequencies in order to find out if he will try to contact them again. — I wasn't even given an advance payment. We were just in the negotiation stage – they were ready to buy all four ships at once, but I understood that I could not move the ships myself and bargained for more time.
— The high degree of automation of the ships from the Katana Fleet allowed you to make jumps without crew members? — I asked as calmly as possible.
— I have a small team — two technicians and droids, — he said. — If they wanted to, they could help with the jump, but we mostly made deals within one or two parsecs of the entire fleet. A lot can happen on a much longer flight...
— Do you still have the frequencies from previous deals? — Mara Jade suddenly asked. I looked at the girl, Rukh stood up, but was immediately stopped by me. Actually, she said the same thing that I wanted to ask. Obviously, we thought about the same thing.
— Yes, of course, — Hoffner said. — If needed, I'll give them to you.
— Needed, — I confirmed, giving Jade an approving nod. With her question, she demonstrated that she was also thinking about the possibilities of hunting Bel Iblis. She didn't need him personally, which means she is showing me that she is ready to help.
Okay, let's note this thought.
— Is that all you want from me? — Hoffner blinked.
— Can you offer something else? — I asked reservedly. — Maybe the coordinates of Booster Terrik's Errant Venture? Or the location of the Sa Nalaor? Or any other interesting starships?
Hoffner hesitated.
— I'm not on good terms with Terrik, like everyone I know well, not our bird of flight, — he said thoughtfully. — Sa Nalaor... I didn't know that Imperials believed in myths, — he looked at me questioningly. I did not answer him – it is clear without that that the smuggler is trying to grab at least some piece of information. Let him better consider it an unsuccessful joke, and not a question from the series: "What if it works?" — As for interesting starships... Judging by the fact that you asked about Errant Venture, you are looking for something large and with many guns?
— An interesting synonymous expression for the term "Star Destroyer", — I assessed. — Judging by your facial expression, you are clearly ready to share information. I'm ready to listen to you.
— Well... everyone knows about this, — he became confused. — In the Corporate Sector, there are still a huge number of Victory-class Star Destroyers – about a thousand. I've heard some of them can be purchased at throwaway prices, although their technical condition, of course, is not the best.
Yes, this fact is also known to me. As well as the fact that the Corporate Sector was a pro-Imperial region until Palpatine's death – for which, in fact, it received preferences in the form of an entire fleet of Victory-class Star Destroyers and other Imperial equipment from conservation. They have a lot of things - except for the desire to cooperate with the Imperials. Because they are doing business with the New Republic. Although rare, but significantly promising. And they will definitely not enter into an open agreement on the sale of Star Destroyers. But secretly...
— Are you in a position to facilitate such a deal? — I asked.
— Um... — Hoffner hesitated. — I'm not sure what to say, but... we can try.
And therefore, at the moment this is generally an extremely unlikely scenario. The Victory, though not the strongest ship in the Imperial fleet, are in significant combat capability, require a small number of crew members for maintenance and control. And their cost compared to the same Imperial-class is significantly lower - about three times. And considering that the New Republic also has a large number of ships with low military power, the Victory-class can always find a suitable job. If there was money to purchase these ships.
— Any other options, Mr. Hoffner? — I asked.
— There was a rumor that Hirael Chindiaya, a henchman of the Black Sun, had a Star Destroyer a year after the rebels blew up the Death Star, it seemed to be even an Imperial-class, — the former commander of Talon Karrde said thoughtfully.
— He scrapped it, — Mara Jade said, casting a wary glance at me. Even like that? A warship for scrap? And even after the Battle of Yavin? It's interesting how this "comrade" was able to get his hands on such a miracle of technology?
— Not the most worthy end of service for a warship, — I said.
— Well, it could have been worse, — Hoffner unexpectedly chuckled.
— It seems that there is a rather interesting story behind this phrase, — for some reason it seems to me that this man knows much more than he wants to tell. Maybe, in fact, it's worth entrusting his interrogation with prejudice? Although no, without knowing even a minimum of information, you can't really get anything in response. And only spoil a useful source of information.
Well, let's try to cooperate with him. I hope he will not tell me now about Imperial equipment at the Hama shipyards?
— Have you heard about the pirate group the Invids?
— No, — I admitted. There are a huge number of pirate groups in this galaxy. And it is not a fact that any of them can simply be pulled out of memory like this. And it is not in my place to arrange a "brainstorm" with these two. It does not fit the image. — For a long time my attention was focused... in a different direction.
A barely audible snort came from Mara Jade. She knows in which part of the galaxy the real Thrawn was located on Palpatine's mission.
— In general, this is a very cohesive and well-organized pirate group, — Hoffner explained. — They are commanded by the former Imperial Moff, Leonia Tavira.
Something familiar stirred in my memory. I don't remember for sure now, but... it seems that this name is somehow connected with Corran Horn. And one interesting group of Force-sensitive sentients. But this is only if my memory serves me right.
— The Invids are a very secretive group, — Mara Jade again identified herself. — No one knows where they are based and what goals they choose.
— Well, that doesn't stop them from operating in the Mid Rim, — Hoffner chuckled. — Although, yes, the place of their basing is still a mystery. The New Republic would pay well for such information. After all, they are good at fraying the rebels' nerves and plucking their caravans.
— The problems of the New Republic and piracy on their territory concern me to a lesser extent, — I said.
— But you said that you would find information about warships useful, — Hoffner was surprised.
— How is this connected with Leonia Tavira and her pirates? — I asked.
— The Invids have several good cruisers, — Mara Jade said, obviously digging through her memory.
— And Tavira's flagship is a 'two', — Hoffner smiled crookedly.
No way? In this galaxy, does every other person have his own...
— Imperial-class Star Destroyer, — the smuggler explained his terminology, thinking, obviously, that I didn't understand him. — The second modification.
Wonderful are your deeds, a galaxy far, far away...
Should I go into piracy? Judging by everything, everyone seems to succeed at it. You only need your own Star Destroyer.
— Intriguing information, — I tried not to show my interest. — We will check it, but after we settle with you on the ships of the Katana Fleet. But first, our doctors will examine you and rid you of the excess of your invitation to visit us.
Without a doubt, it would be possible to simply take the fleet by force and not pay Hoffner anything. After all, even in the best-case scenario for us, this may amount to up to a hundred million in expenses. But I intend to use this sentient more broadly. And for a much longer term. Therefore, forceful methods and intimidation will not be particularly appropriate here. And I am not a supporter of torture, in fact. I prefer to negotiate. And money... It can always be earned.
Moreover, if the information about Leonia Tavira having a Star Destroyer turns out to be true, then it is necessary to try to take this ship from her. It is unlikely that it will be possible to negotiate, to enlist her into service... Also unlikely. If she wanted to, she would have responded already. I am sure that this group has a large network of informants — otherwise, how would they manage to make raids right under the Republic's nose and not get caught? I have no doubt that the Republican intelligence, led by Mr. Airen Cracken, is digging the earth with their nose to find them and bring them to justice. Because a Star Destroyer in uncontrolled hands... It's scary. They have already barely agreed that Booster Terrik was left with the Errant Venture — and that was because this smuggler is "conditionally loyal". But an Imperial Moff of the female sex, who is at the head of a pirate group with cruisers in her arsenal, and who also has a Star Destroyer in her hands... Yes, such information can make anyone wake up at night in a cold sweat.
I looked at the line of numbers written on the flimsyplast. Hmm... If I imagine it correctly, then this place is somewhere in the "southern part of the galaxy"...
— Yes, about the coordinates, — Hoffner suddenly said. — Can you return the sheet to me?
— Do you want to keep it as a souvenir? — Mara Jade smiled.
— No, — Hoffner frowned, looking at me guiltily. — I just messed up a little there... You don't want to get into a black hole, do you?
Measuring him with a cold gaze of my red eyes, I silently handed him the piece of paper to make corrections. A slight mockery appeared in Mara Jade's eyes. It disappeared immediately, as soon as our eyes met.
No, I was wrong. After such a trick, the cost of purchasing the Katana Fleet will decrease by an order of magnitude. You shouldn't pull off such tricks with me.
It's not your place, Captain Hoffner.
***
The infiltration went according to plan.
An old freighter landed at the New Cov spaceport just a few minutes before the start of the Crusader's attack. The appearance of a Victory-class Star Destroyer in the sky over the planet caused a commotion in the town.
And instantly washed away the customs officers and security services from the visibility zone. Yes, they have nothing to do here due to the appearance of landing shuttles over the city in the area of biomolecular mass synthesizers. The locals, as planned, were planning to repel the landing.
And the fact that Captain I-Gor was concentrating his forces directly in the industrial area, around the production of that very biomolecular mass, allowed the enemy to expose other parts of the city, withdrawing patrols and security from there. The reputation of "came to rob the production" spoke for itself and was built on that - the attention of the local government is focused in one place, although the key aspects of the operation will be carried out in another.
Without any difficulty, having hacked the security systems of someone's abandoned speeder, Sergius and Major Molo Himran's team moved towards the planetary governor's residence.
During the Imperial rule of the galaxy, no Imperial troops were stationed on the planet, nor was there an Imperial puppet. Everything was managed by local officials, and therefore there were no major problems in getting to where they needed to be. New Cov continues to portray itself as an independent planet that does not depend on either the Empire or the rebel state. And therefore the resistance in orbit was minimal. A couple of ancient ships that had seen the Clone Wars were nothing more than an appetizer for the Crusader. And the main governor was located, is quite noticeable. Despite the fact that the two-story building, which had clearly seen better years, gave off the architecture of frank backwater - like most of the buildings in this city.
No serious security or guard systems. Only a couple of soldiers at the main gate. Judging by the manner of keeping and handling weapons - clearly from the locals. So much the better.
The Imperial scouts climbed over a low fence, overcame a ten-meter lawn in a few seconds, and are now pressing against the walls of the town hall. There is no one to watch them - the townspeople hide in their homes, the officials - in secluded places. And only the planetary governor and several of his confidants intend to sit out in the town hall. Because in their view, this is an impregnable fortress.
Well, it's time to disappoint them in this.
With the help of hooks, they climbed one by one to the balcony on the second floor. A short check - the corridors are empty. Cutting the glass in the door with laser cutters is a matter of seconds.
Putting the transparent material aside so as not to give away their location, the scouts penetrated inside, switching their weapons to stun mode.
Destroying anyone here, in the town hall, made no sense. The officials of New Cov and any other planets are extremely scrupulous about the death of their henchmen. They are not very interested in the military - you can always find new ones. But the officials... When several criminal schemes can be "tied" to one and the same employee in the bureaucratic apparatus, this imposes a certain dissatisfaction from the higher authorities on those who deprive these very sentients of their lives.
Therefore, everything must be done without fatalities.
Having walked along the empty corridor to the governor's office, Sergius raised his fist up. The squad reacted correctly to the "attention" sign, dividing the possible directions of attack into sectors.
There were three guards in the reception area. In battered bulletproof vests, armed with weapons that, though outdated, were still capable of killing, they organized a defense. No means of protection for the face and heads. No additional armor. Not professionals - militia. The place is not the most successful - too much space for a possible attack. Therefore, they are clearly not here of their own free will. From which it can be concluded that they are directly protecting the governor.
Well...
Sergius gave the order with a conditional gesture.
Two soldiers, taking out flashbang grenades from numerous pockets, threw them towards the defenders. The visors of the Imperials' helmets darkened, and the external audio channels were turned off to protect their eyes and ears from the impact.
The sounds of shooting were heard. Then a bang and a flash of light. Cries of despair.
A short dash forward, shooting at the screaming guards with stunners - and now three bodies freeze on the floor.
Molo Himran, having dispatched one soldier to guard the local soldiers and the second to control the situation, proceeded to the door leading to the governor's office. The soldiers, including Sergius, stood by the wall on both sides of the entrance, ready to burst inside. The commander of the Imperial scouts hit the panel and the metal door panel slid to the side, hiding in the wall.
And at the same moment, scarlet blaster bolts gushed out from within. No system, no hint of aimed fire. This is a desperate gesture. Judging by the sounds of shooting, there are two or three inside. They are firing at the same time. Based on the characteristic features, they have the same type of light blasters in their hands, the civilian version. This means that there is gas for ten to twenty shots, no more than that. And they shoot at the same time. Consequently, they will reload in the same way...
The fire of the locals subsided exactly by two-thirds – it seems that not all blasters are of the same type. But that's enough.
Sergius rushed into the opening, guessing the interval between shots.
Once inside the office, he darted behind the nightstand standing next to the door, into which two blaster bolts immediately crashed. At the same moment, Major Himran's soldiers entered the office.
Two guards were incapacitated by stunner fire, but the governor — a short, plump man with bald patches, dressed in exquisite clothes made of expensive fabric, as soon as he saw that half a dozen fighters in medium armor, armed to the teeth, had appeared on his doorstep, dropped his blaster in fright and slumped into a voluminous chair, raising his hands up.
— I... I surrender! — the governor squeaked.
— Perimeter, — Molo commanded the soldiers, while Sergius had already dragged the governor directly in his chair from behind the table. While the scouts were searching the guards for weapons, the coordinator moved the nearest chair to him and sat in it opposite the governor. The major, like the image of a punishing angel, was located behind his right shoulder.
— How many more sentients are in the building?! — the coordinator gave the fat man a light slap on the face.
— O-only me and f-f-five g-g-guards, — he stammered. — It's a day off today, no one's working.
So much the better. Although, I wonder what were you doing here? And why did you keep silent about those two below? However, it doesn't matter, the second group left on the planet will sort it out and look after the fat man, if they find a common language with him. And a message also came from Himran on the helmet display that the gawkers below had already been relieved of problems with vital functions.
— There is an offer for you, Governor, — Sergius began without any prelude.
— W-w-what? — the chubby man nervously looked at the coordinator, then at the other soldiers of the empire, not understanding who they were and what they needed. It is impossible to identify them by appearance. Each one has a helmet on their head with an opaque visor. No insignia. The equipment is expensive, but it can be easily bought on any black market.
— Biomolecular mass, — Sergius continued. — How much of it do you produce?
— Wh-wh-what? — the fat man blinked his eyes. — Wh-what does this have to do with anything?
— We need your products, — Sergius explained. — Not all of it, only a part.
— The Imperials are taking it away now, — the governor blinked his eyes.
— Do not judge things by the first impression, — Sergius said. — There are many organizations in the galaxy that have ships taken from the Empire. We are one of them. We apologize for this mess, but otherwise it is impossible to agree with you.
— You could have just called, — the governor looked at the holoprojector built into the table. — We sell mass to more than a thousand customers across the galaxy. Anonymously.
Sergius almost pressed his hand into his face.
He stayed too long in the position of coordinator, since he missed such a detail.
It's good that Molo is laughing barely audibly.
— We have a problem with trust and communication systems, — the excuse is pathetic, of course, but well, it is what it is. — Let's say this. This raid is a demonstration of what we can do to your planet if you decide to betray us. The conditions are simple – we need your biomolecular mass. We will discuss the volumes separately. A ship will fly to you once a week. We arrive, take the amount of biomass we need, and fly away. Do you store it in containers immediately after production? — The fat man nodded affirmatively. — Well, that's good. It will be easier for you. Our shuttles descend on your enterprise under the guise of robbery, take everything we need. After we make sure that the product is of proper quality, you personally will receive the required amount of credits. Not to the enterprise, — Sergius emphasized. — To you. For everyone else, it will be the same robbery. Anyone who tries to stop us will be destroyed. Is this clear? — the fat man nodded his head. Very energetically. Understanding, which is good. — It is in your best interest to make sure that there is no one nearby at the time of the raid. How to implement this is your problem. If you try to deceive us, we will deal with you. If you decide to betray us and call for help from the Empire or the New Republic, or mercenaries, or anyone else — we will find a way to turn your planet into a mountain of slag. Have you ever seen what a single volley of proton torpedoes from one Victory-class does to a city? — the coordinator asked.
The governor shook his head energetically and extremely negatively. So much so that his second and third chins almost went on an independent journey.
— Not a pretty sight, — Sergius said. — I don't advise you to test our patience. We have nothing to lose, but we are very, very dangerous when cornered. Is everything clear?
The fat man was covered in large and extremely smelly drops of sweat. Judging by the smell and wet pants, he not only sweated. The coordinator turned off the external air intake for breathing on his helmet.
— Good, — Sergius said, looking at the chronometer. — Task two.
He placed an infotip on the table.
— Here, — the coordinator pointed to the device, — data about the sentients that we are interested in, — and in fact, this is a list with holographic images of all the known supporters of Garm Bel Iblis who disappeared from view with him at about the same time. And also — an impressive list of botanists from Councilor Fey'lia's clan. The Grand Admiral especially insisted on the inclusion of the latter. — You will instruct your people to keep an eye out. If you find any of them on your planet, and we know that they visit here – inform us on the frequency that is on the chip. Do not do anything on your own - we will do everything ourselves. For information about the discovery of at least one of these sentients, we guarantee you a reward of one hundred thousand credits, — the governor's eyes widened. — After his capture, of course, if your information turns out to be correct. If we have more tasks for you, we will inform you. Not a word to anyone about our agreements, if you value your life and the lives of your children, parents, relatives, and all three mistresses. We also know about your bastard, and believe me, he won't be able to hide from us even on Coruscant. Is everything clear?
— Y-yes, — the governor reported. — But... the attack... The soldiers remember that they were attacked... I don't need problems...
— Don't worry about that, — Sergius's smile was not visible under the mask. He gave a sign to Molo, and he jerked the fat man up from his seat and dragged him to the nearest guard, lying on his back.
Sergius made sure that one of the operatives, having finished placing listening devices around the reception area and the office, demonstratively activated a portable holocamera.
— Baptism of blood, dear governor, — Sergius continued to play the role of a corsair, placing his blaster in the hand of the governor, who was shaking with fear and realizing what was about to happen. A short click announced that the weapon had been switched to lethal firing mode. — If you want to cooperate and receive money from us, you must stain your hands with blood. Finish him off.
The fat man stood, hesitantly shifting from foot to foot, squeezing the handle of the blaster pistol with his sticky fingers. He looked around frantically, as if seeking support from the seven people in black gear. But he could not read their emotions, as the helmets continued to hide their faces.
— Come on, governor, — Sergius said. — Either you, or our millions will flow into the pockets of other officials!
The mention of money that could go to him personally, despite the fact that it exceeded the annual budget of the entire planet, played a decisive role. The fat man threw a greedy look in their direction. He looked at his victim.
And he decided.
A scarlet beam burst from the barrel, instantly piercing the guard's thin armor and causing injuries to his body that were incompatible with life.
— Excellent, governor, — Sergius praised him. — You are almost one of us.
— A-almost? — The fat man clearly did not like what was said.
— Of course, — said the coordinator. — There are four more witnesses left.
By this time, the fighters had already laid out the corpses so that their death from the fire of the attackers looked more plausible. It only remained...
A couple of Himran's fighters, arming themselves with the guards' blasters, opened indiscriminate fire in the reception area and the office, imitating a firefight. The rest scattered around the town hall for the same purpose. The traces of hits on the walls and furniture will indicate that losses could not have been avoided here. The professionalism of the action is another reason to put yourself on the hook.
A minute later, the operation was repeated, but with the use of the attackers' weapons. If someone is bored and starts a deep analysis of the damage, they will undoubtedly find that the shots from the guards' blasters flew from inside the premises to the outside, and the attackers' blasters flew in the opposite direction. A spectral analysis of the hits will identify the guards' weapons, but the agents' blasters are a very expensive and artisanal assembly. Which is sold on the black market. Imperial intelligence has always preferred to use reliable standard weapons.
When the governor, shaking with fear and awareness of what he had done, handed the weapon to Sergius, covered in sweat, he deftly caught the blaster in a specially prepared paper bag that he had pulled out of his belt pocket.
— Nothing personal, governor, — he explained. — Your particles of skin remain on the weapon from which you shot your own guards in order to remove witnesses and continue to make a profit from our illegal operations. Any analysis will confirm that they were killed by this weapon. Any genetic examination will conclude that you held it in your hands. If you think of pulling off some kind of trick with us, this weapon and holo recording will end up in the New Republic's intelligence service. And in a couple of weeks, they will "liberate" your planet from the "bloody tyrant." Is everything clear?
— Y-yes, — the fat man belongs to them with all his insides now. And only them.
— Well, that's great, — Sergius chuckled. Taking another blaster from Molo's hands, he switched it to combat mode and quickly shot the fat man in the leg and arm.
Screaming in pain, this lump of fat collapsed on the floor.
— Wh-why?! — in tears, the governor asked, seeing his own blaster being put into his hand, from which he had just decorated the walls of the entire office.
— Well, who will believe your story that five guards died at the hands of the attackers, and you were not injured? — Sergius laughed. — On the chip, you will also find a tall tale that you will feed to your close associates. All the best, Mr. Governor.
Five minutes later, they returned to their speeder. They quickly crossed the city - TIE interceptors were still circling above the city, occasionally shelling some ruins. Judging by the angular and clearly unprofessional trajectories, the pilots were trying their best to demonstrate how clumsy they were and that they were at the helm by mistake.
By the time the Crusader left and the second group of scouts found a safe haven, Sergius and his group had already gotten rid of their special equipment and changed into civilian clothes. The same clothes that the spaceport cameras had managed to replace them with after landing.
— So what cargo do you have there? — the customs officer appeared half an hour later. As well as the battered fighters of the local army, who had had a good scare when they met the stormtroopers. But now they were swaggering through the streets and surrounding the town hall to demonstrate to the local population that everything was in order, that they would protect everyone, and so on down the list of powerless demagogue.
— Grain, — Sergius, playing the role of a provincial, snorted richly onto the surface of the landing pad. — Do you have this often?
— For the first time, — the customs officer admitted. — They stole two weeks' worth of biomolecular mass production from us! What for on Hutt they need so much spice? You can feed a couple of legions with it.
— Yeah, Hutt knows, — Sergius wiped his nose with his sleeve. — Let me quickly unload the grain to you at the lowest price, and get out of this inhospitable planet faster.
— Yes, — the customs officer nodded approvingly. — I wouldn't refuse either.
***
Paradoxical as it may sound, there was a throne room in the Moff's residence.
The size of a football field, intended for receiving various kinds of petitioners and official meetings. Surely various kinds of celebrations were held here as well. However, this no longer matters.
The main thing is that this room is very similar to Palpatine's throne room in the Imperial Palace. The entourage necessary for the conversation that I am about to have. Not the one I was having now. But more... dangerous.
— So, Booster Terrik refused to deal with you, Mr. Ferrier, — I summed up the report of the hijacker, looking at the hologram projected by the device located a few meters to the right of my position. Due to the fact that the massive chair, which looked like two peas in a pod to the one in which the Emperor liked to sit on board the Death Star, could rotate around its axis, there were no problems looking directly into the eyes of the interlocutor.
As Moff Ferrus told me, the fashion for such high-tech throne chairs came after the Emperor destroyed the Jedi. Such a chair was in his office when he was playing the role of Supreme Chancellor. A similar one was in the throne room inside Mount Tantiss. And according to my memories - Sidious was sitting in it during the duel between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader during the Battle of Endor.
A low stepped platform on which the chair was located allowed the person sitting in it to rise a good meter above the rest. A small clever trick to emphasize the high position of one over those who came to this hall. The psychology of suppression in its purest form. Such a trick will not work on sentients with a high IQ who know their worth, but on the rest... Of which there are the majority...
— Yes, that's right, Grand Admiral, — "Snitch" frowned discontentedly. — It seems that it will not be possible to get the buzz droids through him. And we will have to turn to the Zann Consortium. Plan "Besh", so to speak.
Besh... the second letter of the alphabet of the main galactic language, also called Basic. Or scientifically: "Aurebesh".
— What for? — I clarified. — Plan "Aurek" is still in effect.
— Sir? — the hijacker blinked his eyes. — But Booster Terrik refused to sell the buzz droids. You didn't fall for his offer to exchange the mechanisms for my head, did you? He will deceive!..
I didn't even pay attention to the hijacker's further wails. Buzz droids in exchange for the hijacker's head? Yes, an attractive offer, saving a lot of money, time and nerves. In addition, Terrik, if he did not understand, already assumes that Ferrier works for the Empire. And there will definitely be no fruitful cooperation with the smuggler. And it was not supposed to be.
Paradoxically, the outcast "Snitch" is more useful to me in his illegal environment than Booster Terrik. And less harmful if the issue is approached correctly. And "Snitch" ... is a very convenient supplier of Corellian ships, which I need to increase the power of Star Destroyers as much as possible.
— We are moving on to the second phase, Mr. Sly, — I interrupted his stream of verbal outpourings. Most of them were meaningless, but one point was extremely intriguing.
— Grand Admiral? — he widened his eyes. — I... I don't understand. There was a second phase?
— Every trick consists of three actions, — I said. There is no point in explaining to Ferrier that I need not only buzz droids from Terrik. But they too. However, if the hijacker did not understand this during our last conversation, it is his problems. And only his. — Action one is complete. Action two is just beginning.
— And... what will it be? — "Snitch" asked cautiously.
— As far as I know, Mirax Terrik is one of the most famous antique dealers, — I recalled. And I very much hoped that I was not mistaken. — Is she still engaged in such business now?
— Yes, of course, it is very profitable, — the hijacker said in a stunned voice. For a moment, I remembered that the labyrinth under Mount Tantiss contained a labyrinth full of works of art and rare jewels. It turns out that I have a gold mine at my fingertips. It is funny that I considered Palpatine's reserves only in a military capacity. And that these values can be sold and get huge money... Oh, well. I'm not Thrawn. He would probably have found a way to enrich himself by selling antiques carefully accumulated by Palpatine as a symbol of his victories. I wonder how much they are worth? — A...
— Contact Captain Pellaeon, — I said. — He will give you the coordinates of the meeting place. There you will receive several antiques, — no, we have not yet reached Palpatine's collection - the labyrinth is extremely clever. But also in Thrawn's reserves, as far as I remember, there are a couple of interesting items. There was even a race for one of them with Princess Leia and her family. Thrawn received the work of art, but the rebel cipher hidden in it went to the rebels. — With these valuables and a cover group, you will find Mirax Terrik and offer her to sell them through her mediation.
— Sir, I don't grasp the essence... — the hijacker admitted.
— You don't need to, — I replied. — Do what is ordered. And, yes, your offer is accepted.
— Which one, sir? — the hologram blinked its eyes.
— Didn't you promise me more Corellian ships of the DP20 and CR90 types? — I asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly. — Five units of each type in exchange for ignoring Booster Terrik's offer. As far as I remember, you offered them just now in exchange for your life.
— Yes, Grand Admiral, — the hijacker said with a resigned tone. — I... I'll do everything.
— I have no doubt, — without any farewells, I turned off the holoprojector.
And a second later, with a loud hiss, the doors of the main entrance to the throne room parted.
Inside, with a model-like walk "from the hip", dressed in a tight-fitting black combat suit that emphasized the beauty of her trained figure, looking directly into my eyes with her green lights on a beautiful face framed by golden-red hair, came the Hand of the Emperor. She held herself proudly, independently, demonstrating that she knew her worth and would not fall to her knees at the mere sight of me, regardless of my position and the loyalty to the Empire that had been drilled into her head. A predator who is able to get rid of any obstacles in her path. A predator who came for answers.
The finale of my first global trick in this galaxy was approaching.
It was time to recruit Mara Jade.