Immediately after the plasma cutter destroyed the integrity of the emergency airlock's locking mechanism, Yazuo Vain, intercepting his vibroblade, fired at the opening doors.
The blaster, combined with the cold weapon, worked flawlessly, making a scorched hole in the chest of a Viquai, dressed in a semblance of an Imperial navy uniform, but painted in utterly ridiculous shades of gray and green. The security officer of the Errant Venture fell backward.
But even before his corpse touched the deck, pirates from the Lewd Twi'lek were already pouring onto the star destroyer.
Yazuo, without much ceremony, slashed his vibroblade across the chest of another man, Booster Terrik, adorning him with a huge chest wound. He beheaded another, plunged a blaster bolt into the side of a Kel Dor who did not have time to react to the appearance of the privateer next to him.
With a practiced move, Captain Vain plunged the blade of his weapon into the enemy's neck, causing him to choke on his own blood.
— Forward! — he roared, rushing first along the corridor of the Errant Venture's superstructure.
Let the Imperials from the Strike, Tartan, and Victory I storm the main, cargo hangars, and seize the main decks of the ship — his guys poured from two sides directly into the starship's superstructure. It was here that the bridge and living quarters of the most influential members of Booster Terrik's crew were located. And if the Imperials don't give him adequate compensation for this raid, they will seriously regret it!
He lost a huge number of good men in this operation. Yes, not all of them were decent and respectable sentients (or rather, none of them), but they were in his group, and therefore, someone would have to pay up for their deaths. And pay seriously, because capturing the superstructure and combat bridge actually means complete control over the star destroyer, since the bridge can easily control all the ship's systems and thus either facilitate the Imperial assault teams' boarding or, conversely, hinder it.
At first, Yazuo wanted to do the latter—when he saw that Talon Karrde's freighters were attacking the Interdictor. If the interdictor cruiser was destroyed, there would be a great opportunity to capture Terrik's ship and hijack it, and then, at a very profitable rate, sell it to the same Imperials, but in the Imperial Remnant, or the New Republic, or the Corporate Sector. A Hutt, yes, even Hutts would pay up for such a "gift." Fifty to seventy million would be enough for Vain and his people to live comfortably for the rest of their lives somewhere far away from the eternal fight between the Empire and the New Republic.
The arrival of two ships of the latter only strengthened him in the correctness of such thoughts, and he ordered them to switch attention to the Errant Venture, looking for a suitable moment when the Imperial pilots finally thinned out the air wing covering the once non-standard colored star destroyer.
But after the appearance of two more Imperial "ones," he felt uneasy.
The plan had to be adjusted instantly. Not only did Karrde not destroy the interdictor cruiser, but reinforcements also arrived for Thrawn, which could easily shoot out the engines of the Errant Venture, and then Vain and his people would be dealt with by the space marines of the blue-skinned Grand Admiral. In such conditions, to contradict an employer who easily caught in his trap not only the always cautious Booster Terrik, who had a knack for problems, but also the pirate group of Leonia Tavira. Despite the numerical superiority of the enemy, Grand Admiral Thrawn managed not only to outsmart them, but also, judging by the abundance of boarding pods scurrying between the ships, also intends to capture all the starships that survived the battle without exception.
Therefore, Yazuo reasoned very simply—he would attack the bridge of the Errant Venture, capture Booster and subdue his ship, after which he would observe. If a couple of New Republic starships are followed by more ships capable of turning the tide of battle, then he will try to escape into hyperspace and take the ship far away, wait for rumors about who won, and offer to buy the star destroyer.
But if nothing happens, or Thrawn wins, then capturing the ship will clearly contribute to an increase in commissions from the Grand Admiral himself. In that case, even the escape on the star destroyer can be justified to Thrawn by the motivation, they say, that he wanted to save the ship for him in any case and took it out of the combat zone so that the vile rebels would not accidentally destroy it in a fit of powerless anger towards the Empire and him personally.
It is unlikely that the Grand Admiral will believe such a motivation, but this will have to be thought about later, when it comes to sharing the loot. If it does, of course.
And there should be a lot of loot on the Errant Venture. Maybe Booster didn't bring all the underground dealers and bounty hunters who were guests on his ship at the usual time, but the goods here should definitely be hidden. And knowing about Terrik's stinginess by hearsay, Yazuo had no doubt — there was something to profit from here.
— Yo-ho-ho! And a vibroblade in the ass! — Vain yelled, seeing how an unlucky crewman of the destroyer was trying to escape from his people from around a corner in the corridor. It was very easy to recognize them — they had Imperial navy uniforms, repainted in Corellian colors. Whatever Terrik told about himself, he still felt nostalgic for his homeland. And he would surely return to Dictat if it didn't mean his next assignment to Kessel in an orange prisoner's robe.
While the fighters following him continued to fire from blasters and carbines, Yazuo carried out a threat from an old pirate song, but limited himself to a shot in the back from a blaster. Well, really, he was not going to chase him all over the ship in the hope of increasing the depth of the canyon between the halves of his buttocks?
After destroying three enemy squads and losing two fighters, the teams of the Lewd Twi'lek and Yazuo's second freighter finally joined forces, virtually clearing the officers' living deck... Oh, if only they could indulge in looting in the private apartments on the ship now, but that's the problem — while they are busy with minor gathering of valuables, which may not even exist, the Imperials will capture the bridge. And then the contribution to the capture of the starship from Vain's gang will be minimal.
They should have continued to stick to the plan, but...
— You and you, — Yazuo pointed his finger at a couple of fighters. The guys in their collective are new; such people usually die after one or two raids, so remembering their names at the moment is impractical. — Grab your asses and go through the cabins. All valuables — jewelry, fabrics, spice, chips — everything to our ships, we'll figure it out later. If you try to grab something for yourself, I'll gut you on a hot spit.
— Like Marcus? — one of their neophytes sighed quietly, recalling the recent comradely trial of a pirate who tried to hide a credit chip worth a couple of hundred peggats from the team. The amount is not so big, but here it is a matter of principle.
— No, of course not, — Yazuo chuckled. The couple sighed in relief. — I knew Marcus for three months and almost didn't consider him a bantha shit. Therefore, before frying him, he was not given an anti-shock and pain reliever — so that he would not suffer for long. But I barely remember what your names are...
— Biba and Boba, sir, — one of them said. Strange names for two young men who are somewhat similar in appearance. Brothers, maybe?
— Well, why the hell do I need this information? — Yazuo sighed. What kind of pirates do they only hire by announcement? — In short. If you try to steal something from the collective, you will be fried in a fuel barrel. Only they'll inject you with the necessary swill so you don't die ahead of time, and we'll give you an oxygen tube so you don't suffocate. Everything clear?
Two silent nods.
— Then why the Hutt am I still seeing you before my eyes?! — he bellowed, and at the same moment both pirates rushed towards the unlocked doors of the cabins.
— Boss, — his assistant whispered in his ear, when the pirate squad broke through to the turbolift shaft — the shortest route to the combat bridge. — You understand that they will definitely try to steal something?
— I hope so, — Yazuo yawned, wiping blood off the blade of his vibroblade with a rag. — It's easier to divide the loot into twenty sentients than into twenty-two.
— But there are twenty-six of us now, — the assistant added in a whisper. — And these two are on the living deck...
— Yeah, — Yazuo changed the gas cartridge in the blaster. — You get what I mean?
— Sure, — the pirate grinned, flashing his metal teeth. — Is it time to optimize the gang's size?
— I don't know what you're talking about, — Vain shrugged. — I'm against such perversions...
— Uh... Boss, — the assistant was confused. — But you yourself said there should be twenty and...
— I mean, I don't know the meaning of the word "optimize," — Yazuo replied, stepping first into the turbolift car that had arrived on call from the panel. The other pirates followed him. And they hardly guessed what fate would befall some of them after the assault was completed.
Yazuo Vain was ready to cross the galaxy in a rusty bucket with a class sixteen hyperdrive if necessary to bail out any of his guys. He gave Grand Admiral twenty Tartans to save a dozen of his close ones. And he would do it again.
The problem was that the number of "his guys" was strictly limited to twenty-one members of the Lewd Twi'lek crew. Including the pirate captain himself, of course.
And no one was ever going to share such a jackpot with "meat".
***
It's still a little strange to get your lightsaber back, but continue to wield a blaster. And also keep within four or five meters of a stormtrooper with a ysalamiri cage attached to his back, cutting her off from the Force.
And from the mad dark Jedi, Palpatine's experiment.
Mara, waiting for the moment when the enemy either runs out of charge in the power cell or gas in the cartridge, emerged from around a corner in the corridor, making a hole with a precise shot slightly above the eyes of a Trandoshan pirate. The scale-covered humanoid fell to the deck as if he had been shot. And three other of his kin, sitting in cover behind a couple of massive cargo containers, roared so that the blood of any unprepared sentient would freeze in their veins.
Mara only tightened her grip on the handle of the naval SE-14C, which had now become her standard weapon. A blaster pistol, a standard weapon for the Imperial armed forces. Yes, she could have taken any of her own blasters on the mission, but today she was playing the role of naval Lieutenant Jade.
And she also wanted to feel the pleasant weight of the blaster in her hand again and experience some discomfort from the fact that the rifled handle was digging into her palm.
SE-14C blaster pistol.
Unfortunately for the Trandoshan pirates, who were in possession of this dilapidated spaceship, they were not confronted by just any sentients, but by the stormtroopers of the Empire. And to be even more precise, it was those who had a specialization that was very disliked by pirates, smugglers, and rebels.
Despite their archaic name, the Imperial Marines had nothing to do with the sea, as such. Honestly, the only state of aggregation of water and any liquid that they could most often see during the direct execution of their assigned task was ice.
Because the Imperial Marines were a specialized unit of the Stormtrooper Corps, whose prototype in the past, during the Clone Wars, was the clone troopers. And the marines received their tasks from them, so to speak, "by inheritance."
They were stationed on board all large Imperial warships such as cruisers and star destroyers to carry out the duties of boarding and counter-boarding enemy starships. Trained to fight both on starships and beyond, in a vacuum, these stormtroopers never faltered in the face of a threat, did not flee, and did not strive for any great ingenuity. They acted strictly according to instructions developed at the dawn of the Empire, performing their tasks with frightening efficiency.
And even now, as if not noticing that they were being shot at with disintegrators mixed with blasters and even machine guns, the marines (it's funny, but sometimes they are also called troopers or space marines) methodically cleared one deck after another. Mara watched with chilling fear as the troopers, sometimes having horrific injuries, continued to fight as if they did not feel their injuries at all.
Despite the fact that she thought that she had long forgotten such subtleties as the criteria for the specialization of stormtroopers, it was worth immersing herself in the battle, and information that had been carefully memorized over the years began to slip out of the unconscious on its own, returning to her memory.
While she was waiting out another wall of blaster fire emitted by the enemy, the stormtroopers, scattered behind the edges of the bulkheads, were returning fire. Every now and then, one of them would get a direct shot to the body or head and fall to the deck, but the others kept shooting.
A stormtrooper moving in short bursts toward her turned out to be not as quick as it might have seemed initially. A clearly large-caliber explosive bullet pierced his armor below his chest on the right, ripping apart the plastoid of his snow-white armor, and the durable under-armor suit made of fabric armor, and the body beneath them.
The fighter, falling to his knees, continued to hold the standard E-11 blaster rifle of the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps in his hands, firing and at the same time as if he did not notice that blood was pouring from his torso and pieces of flesh and internal organs were falling out. And it's really scary — because even one look at this wound is enough to understand — it's impossible to survive it without a sound. It cannot be survived at all — death from blood loss will occur faster than a medic arrives from the neighboring squad. Because the medic of the squad with whom Mara was breaking through to the battery deck was lying ten meters earlier down the corridor, with a huge hole instead of his helmet face shield.
E-11 blaster rifle.
Mara knew that on Carida, the planet where stormtroopers are trained, ordinary people are actually turned into living weapons for whom their own hardships do not matter — only the task. But she also knew another thing—even stormtroopers cry out in pain. Maybe if it was a blaster burn, such stoicism would look much more appropriate, but to do it with ripped-out guts...
Sometimes you wonder — what are these people made of, if even their self-preservation instinct receded at the sight of them. But you also realize that you don't want to know the answer. Because the reason can only be found in one place — on Carida. And only by becoming a stormtrooper yourself.
But Mara did not want such a fate for herself, and therefore...
With a loud clatter, a small, silvery ball with several flashing indicators fell to the floor of the corridor, a few feet from Jade's feet.
A thermal detonator!
Type A Thermal Detonator.
An offensive-defensive munition designed to destroy sentients and equipment within a radius of up to twenty meters. The explosive substance — baradium, is encased in a shell made of thermite material, and is the most vile thing that an attacking or defending sentient can see before them. Because you can never guess. Whether you will manage to get out of the affected area or not depends on the timer set by the one who threw this "ball of death." The standard fuse is designed for six seconds, and this is quite enough to either throw it back or leave the affected area, but...
The enemy threw it in the middle of the corridor for a reason. To throw it back, you need to get out from behind the bulkhead. Directly under the barrels of the Trandoshans, and they definitely won't miss. Running away is also not an option — on the one hand, she is facing the cursed corridor, and on the other hand, the half-meter branch where she is now ends with a terminal that hasn't worked since the Clone Wars. And there's no way out!
And they had so little left, to suppress the resistance on the battery deck and the star destroyer in the hands of the Empire, Thrawn! Her first worthwhile task, and she failed it!
The world seemed to freeze before her, not allowing her even to stir. The fear of death, which she had not experienced for a long time, sent its slippery tentacles inside her, paralyzing her movement, forcing her to look at death, which would detonate soon, leaving no one alive within a radius of several meters. And those who survive this explosion will be deafened by the sound wave that passed through the confined space. The stormtroopers, of course, may be saved by their armor, but...
The bloody trooper, without further ado, made one short dash on his knees, was next to the munition, and covered it with his body, curled up so that the armor and torso would absorb as many damaging elements as possible...
It went off. The body of the unfortunate man was thrown up, torn into several pieces, and splattered the corridor walls with blood. The disfigured body did not move — Mara didn't even need to wield the Force to understand — the stormtrooper was dead. And she knew exactly why he did it.
He sacrificed himself, knowing that he would not live until the arrival of the medic. He understood that he was dying, and the only thing he could do to help his comrades was to take the fire upon himself. Or cover the grenade with his body to prevent its explosion and the appearance of even more wounded.
An act that is difficult to explain.
Stormtroopers do not receive any serious salary — they, like the clones in their time, only serve the government. The small credits that they have for their ungrateful work in no way can ensure the desire to die for them.
Stormtroopers do not know how to empathize with anyone — they are indifferent to losses, even among their own. It doesn't matter to them whether one or another will be killed — they don't have a sense of camaraderie. Even the clones during the war had more motivation to save each other than the soldiers of the Stormtrooper Corps.
And now, just like that...
— Suppression fire, — the squad commander's soft voice rang out. — Forward.
The stormtrooper sergeant did not scream, did not raise his voice, did not tear it apart. He commanded calmly, and there was not even a hint of panic or excitement in his voice. He was doing his job, which he knew perfectly well and did not want any other fate. Otherwise, he would have long found a reason and opportunity to escape from service and start life anew. That's what stormtroopers did — a few, but they did. It's not a secret.
But the sergeant commanded. Here and now.
His orange pauldron peeked out from behind the bulkhead, and he waved his hand to the other fighters. Four troopers — only four of the eight in the squad — left their shelters, firing suppression fire. With quick steps, they moved forward through the corridor, leaving Mara Jade behind their snow-white armor.
The girl, hearing the Trandoshans yell, jumped out of cover, instantly got her bearings, and opened fire, supporting the three remaining fighters and their commander with the fire of her blaster.
The light body armor she wore for the operation was pleasantly pressing with its weight — or rather, its almost complete absence. The blaster pistol spat out scarlet lightning bolts that always found their targets — after the squad overcame the makeshift barricade, nothing could stop them.
Next was only the battery itself. And this was a huge space, practically devoid of shelter. And several fleeing Trandoshans, firing randomly.
Accurate shots put an end to the pirates' careers.
The stormtroopers, walking past the corpses, routinely and routinely made finishing shots to the heads of the once sentient reptiles.
After which, covering each other, they penetrated the battery deck.
As expected, it was empty here. Well, almost empty. Even during the landing, Mara noticed that most of the Venator's batteries were silent. And this could mean only one thing — either there are no guns there anymore, or they are in a technically faulty condition. But she bet on the first.
And she was right.
Of the ten guns that were supposed to be on this battery, there was only one in place. And now it was silent, despite the fact that it looked completely intact.
— They just ran out of ammunition, — Mara said grimly, seeing empty gas cartridges scattered across the deck. Yes, this is a starship from the Clone Wars era. The batteries are not turbolasers at all, but simple guns with cartridge loading. But if so, then where...?
— Movement, — the stormtrooper who was carrying the ysalamiri on his shoulders reported to the sergeant. His right hand held an E-11, pointed towards a massive instrument panel. The stormtroopers synchronously aimed at the side of the alleged danger.
Mara instantly recognized this ancient mechanism. An artillery computer, which received information about the target from the bridge. And behind it...
— Don't shoot! — she ordered.
The stormtroopers did not fire a single shot. But they didn't take their weapons away either, limiting themselves to just slightly lowering the barrels of their blaster rifles. On the one hand, the targets are safe and even an accidental shot will not harm them, and on the other hand, it will take only a split second to return the weapons to the previous line of fire.
— In the name of the Empire — come out, — Mara commanded loudly, noticing in the dim light of the deck that the shadow behind the side of the artillery computer further away from her was moving slightly. There was someone behind the device. — You will not be harmed.
After a few seconds, a shaggy Wookiee head appeared from behind the device. Tall, but with sagging, matted fur of brown with black shades. The sentient was thin, looking around fearfully and with his whole appearance showed that he wanted to look very, very small, inconspicuous. Get lost, like the massive metal band on his neck, studded with indicators and microchips.
A slave collar.
Actually, what else could one expect on a Trandoshan starship, known for their "trade" — slave trading?
The Wookiee whined low and plaintively, looking at her.
— I don't understand Shyriiwook, — Mara Jade immediately warned, demonstratively putting her weapon into the holster on her belt. — I doubt that they, — she nodded her head towards the stormtroopers, — also do. Do you understand me?
The Wookiee, frightened (Hutt, what did they have to do to this guy to make him so beaten down? Even the Empire during the construction of the Death Star did not manage to destroy the will of the representatives of the proud people of Kashyyyk so much!) looked at her. He nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement. It seems he thought he had found himself a new owner. Who needs you, you flea-bitten rug?
— You will not be harmed, — she repeated. — The Empire has captured the slavers' ship. You will now be taken to a place where other slaves we have found are also located. Our doctors will examine you, give you medicine and food. After that, the command will decide on which planet to land you.
The Wookiee continued to look at her, as if frozen in place. He whined questioningly.
— I don't understand, — Mara Jade snapped irritably. — Just… don't do anything stupid, alright? Believe it or not, the Empire doesn't need slaves. At least, not the one I work for. So, be a friend, don't delay me, and just obey orders, okay?
The native of the forested Kashyyyk growled again with a questioning intonation.
— I don't understand! — Mara yelled, momentarily wondering if the stormtroopers might be quietly laughing at her under their helmets? After all, their armor systems allow them to disable the vocoder — and everything said under the helmet stays under the helmet.
Although no, what nonsense. Stormtroopers can't laugh. Regular stormtroopers, considered mere "cannon fodder" even among their comrades, those, yes, they are less... trained, and the beginnings of individuality still remain in them. But not space marines!
— In short, — she said, regaining her composure. — You, — she poked a finger at the Wookiee, — are coming with me. You won't be hurt and won't be harmed in any way, alright? Just don't attack anyone, — she asked. — Or these nice fellows, — another nod towards the four stormtroopers, — will quickly fry you. Got it?
The Wookiee, after thinking, nodded again. He agreed.
— Alright then, — the girl gestured toward the exit from the battery deck. — Come on, let's find you something to eat... Though no, a shower first. There must be a working shower on this tub. Because you smell like you stood under a Rancor when it was urinating...
Taking a couple of steps, she noticed that the Wookiee hadn't moved.
— What else? — she frowned. — Did you forget to say "please"? Well, it's not your day today. Believe me, I'm extremely sweet even without that… Oh, crap.
No, the Wookiee wasn't ignoring her. And he didn't even try to win her over or show his temper.
He was just waiting, for the shaggy heads of his brethren to start appearing from the shelters all over the battery deck.
Many heads.
***
— Admiral, — Captain Pellaeon addressed me, running a hand across his face in a very un-regulation manner to relieve the tension. — We're receiving reports from the ships.
— I assume — not the most encouraging ones? — I inquired, diligently imitating indifference in my voice. To be honest, I was terrified to hear information that after the completion of this battle, or rather, its naval part, all the efforts would turn into a Pyrrhic victory.
— As always after a large-scale battle, — Pellaeon, in his fatigue, didn't notice or simply didn't pay attention to some signs of my nervousness. — The Chimaera is ready to continue the battle, but we've lost sixty percent of our artillery, have multiple breaches, and losses among the personnel. The air wing... We have saved one and a half squadrons of TIE fighters, six interceptors, and only one bomber. The evacuation shuttles discovered four more damaged machines and are now delivering them on board. The Assault Gunboat and Nemesis got off with the loss of several turrets, and the smaller craft...
— I am least interested in them right now, — I curbed the captain. Indeed, what kind of fighters can we talk about now, when it is obvious that some of our battleships are beaten to the point that the best they can hope for is major repairs. In the worst-case scenario, it's easier to disembark the crews onto other starships, take everything valuable, and blow them up so that they don't fall into the enemy's hands. — Let the captains of their units perform standard protocols — collect surviving pilots and intact machines. Pirate ships included. We will get a detailed report on the state of the flight groups of our ships at the base. I am more concerned about the condition of the ships.
— The Steel Aurora has a reactor breach, — I wonder, did Pellaeon start with good or bad news? — Captain Kalian ordered it shut down in emergency mode. On the remaining energy, his Victory reached the Republic MC80 and boarded it. At the moment they are fighting for the ship. The reactor, engine, and navigation compartments, and the hyperdrive compartment have been captured. As soon as they take control of the weapon blisters, the starship can be considered ours.
— Can the Victory be saved? — I asked.
— The reactor is not capable of producing even a third of its working capacity — and even then, only if the repair crews can stop the fuel leak and establish at least temporary protection from radiation. I have ordered three emergency crews from the Chimaera to send them aid. However, without extended repairs, the ship will not be able to make a long hyperspace jump.
— Sentinel? — I inquired about the fate of the long-suffering interdictor cruiser.
— Major Himron is finishing off the pockets of resistance on the Acclamator, while the helmsmen are uncoupling the ships, — Pellaeon continued. — The Interdictor has significant damage to the lower decks, a significant part of the reactor is either destroyed or seriously damaged. The team is engaged in restoring the compartment seals and returning the reactor to its place. Judging by the remaining equipment, they will be able to jump to hyperspace in about thirty minutes — but not far, otherwise, the capacitors and coolers of the reactor compartment equipment may explode.
— What about the other ships? — the ysalamiri, which I rather unkindly patted on the back, lazily raised its head to bestow upon me a look full of discontent.
— Lieutenant Jade and the marine units are conducting cleanup on the Venator. A curious fact — there are more than two thousand slaves on board. Lieutenant Jade is requesting medical teams — many wounded. Apparently, the Trandoshans intended to kill them, realizing that the ship would be captured. The slaves ran away and hid. Presumably, they performed the duties of lower ranks on the ship, and also — served as artillerymen. The majority of them are Wookiees, more than a thousand individuals. The rest are also non-humans, of various species...
Yes, a military operation could not go without problems with slaves. And what to do with them now? No one is going to send them home, for sure. And it's somehow a pity to throw them into space...
— Send the necessary food supplies to the ship if they are lacking, — I sighed furtively. — After delivering them to the base, we'll decide what to do with them. Is there anything else worthwhile about the Venator?
— The ship is practically ours and can jump to Tangrene. The Crusader lost practically all its artillery, but it's afloat and capable of getting away from here. Which can't be said about the Strike and Tartan — they were very unlucky. The hull and life support systems are damaged. If they can go to hyperspace, they won't be able to return in one piece.
— Inform the nearest Interdictor — let them deal with removing the remnants of the crew, weapons, hyperdrives, onboard computer and recorders from the ships, — I ordered. — Deliver the corpses of the crew members to the ship's morgue. We will bury them according to the naval tradition at the base. Upon completion of the disarmament of the starships — disperse the ships to different points on the battlefield and mine them for detonation upon any attempt to board.
— A surprise in the best traditions of stormtroopers? — Pellaeon chuckled. Yes, he is absolutely right: in the Imperial Navy, there was no practice of mining ships for a delayed explosion. Everything that could not be repaired was either abandoned, given a trajectory towards the nearest star, or shot up by turbolasers from surviving starships. But the guys from the Stormtrooper Corps indulged in leaving mines on bases and settlements they had cleared — delayed retribution for the comrades of those who tried to return.
— Let's make the enemy fear our abandoned ships, — I said. In fact, I had a thought about who would want to rummage through the abandoned ships immediately after we leave the Rugosa system. — Did anyone escape from the destroyed Strike and Tartan?
— Two fighter pilots, — Pellaeon showed his knowledge.
— Enlist them in the flight group of the Chimaera, — I ordered. — Mark it down — redistribute the surviving crew members of these two cruisers among the ships participating in the battle.
— Yes, sir, — surviving in a battle against a numerically superior enemy is practically heroism. And if you are also a TIE fighter pilot, which is essentially a "death capsule," you are almost a legend. Such guys should be encouraged. And their enlistment in the flagship's crew is a great motivation. Especially since we need pilots and fighters. And replenishing the crew with people who already have good combat experience is only beneficial to the entire crew.
— Now let's go through our trophies, — I ordered. — Tell the Assault Gunboat and Nemesis to bring the frigates and corvettes we captured on board. Can the Neutron Star jump to hyperspace?
— The hyperdrive is in order, but there are big problems with sublight — few of them are still intact.
— The crew of this ship is not going to surrender? — I clarified.
Pellaeon scratched his head.
— And we didn't offer them to, sir.
Oh yeah, right. A misstep.
— Offer them on the general channel to surrender to all who wish, — I ordered. Indeed. Previously, the Empire didn't really care to take pirates prisoner — only in case of the manifestation of humanism on the part of the ship's captains. They were usually destroyed along with the ships during the battle. Now, if someone voluntarily agrees to surrender, then we will at least save time so that we don't have to fight with them in the process of capturing the ships. At most... No, I don't have any particular desire to keep them as prisoners of war in the prison built by volunteers on Tangrene. But to offer them work... Not everyone, of course, but even among this scum, there will be those who want to take care of their future. — All who surrender — distribute to ship brig, take under guard. In exceptional cases — disembark to trophy ships, guard all key objects. We will either take the Neutron Star with us, or shoot it down if its crew doesn't surrender. Relay the order to the nearest Interdictor — let them decide this issue immediately.
The main thing now is to get to our base and lick our wounds. I don't really believe that Cyre Yonka came here only in the company of one ship. With the tactics of "finishing off" or "detaining" it might have worked, but at the moment it must be understood — if this pair of ships is part of a formation, then the rest of the starships are already moving towards us at full speed. And three star destroyers and two damaged Interdictors — that's all that can resist them now. Adding to the complete understanding of the situation the almost complete absence of carrier cover — and now it becomes quite sad about the prospects.
And the Neutron Star cannot be a stumbling block — its combat value is low, the ship is frankly outdated, and in terms of combat effectiveness, it is inferior even to heavy Dreadnought-type cruisers. I planned to use it as a donor of rapid-fire and medium guns for other ships. Dismantling it on the spot, if there is an opportunity to take it with us — is not a matter, we'll only waste time. If it were in such a deplorable state, as the Strike and Tartan — that's another matter. But, while there is a choice — we must save time as much as possible.
Engrossed in my thoughts, I didn't even notice how the commander of the Chimaera called Lieutenant Tshel to him and conveyed my instructions regarding the prisoners. The young officer with a crumpled face silently listened to the order, limply saluted, and left us, quickly moving towards the communications post. Well, at least this time he's not running and yelling across the bridge.
— What about the trophy star destroyers? — I inquired.
— We have practically finished with the Errant Venture, — Pellaeon reported. — Captain Vain captured the bridge, Booster Terrik himself was taken prisoner, but he is seriously wounded and is in the bacta-tank. Vain has only twenty sentients left under his command, they want to return to Tangrene aboard the trophy. Captain I-Gor from the Crusader has already inspected the ship and considered it fit for transportation to the base under its own power. Crews from the starships we are leaving are now disembarking there. Some of Terrik's people are ready to cooperate, but we still lack people even for a full shift.
— Send the Chimaera to the trophy and transfer part of our junior officers to its board, — I ordered. — Distribute stormtroopers to the captured ships for the least qualified positions — it should work. Freedom and Invidious?
— On the first, the fierce resistance has already subsided, — Pellaeon replied. — Lieutenant Tshel reports that the crew began to massively surrender immediately after one of the stormtroopers informed them over the intercom about the death of Captain Yonka.
— Did the commander of the Freedom die during the battle? — I clarified. The streamlined form of the report on the captain's death hinted at the possibility of a different scenario.
— Yes, sir, his body was pierced and crushed by the force field of the combat bridge, — Gilad reported. — Most likely this happened during the attack by bombers from the Nemesis on the superstructure of the Freedom.
— Or our stormtroopers held grenade-throwing classes in the bridge of the attacked starship, — I suggested.
— Unlikely, sir, — the commander of the Chimaera confidently stated. — The stormtroopers on board the Chimaera are well-trained and disciplined. They would not use such weapons in such a confined space, especially on the ship's bridge, which is intended to be used in the future and there is a need to deliver it under its own power to the base...
— I want to meet the stormtrooper who took the initiative and informed the crew about Yonka's death, — the guys in white armor, who are mockingly called "dolls," are trained in warfare. Methodically, purposefully turning them into a source of increased danger. They are tactically proactive in battle, but to show ingenuity and influence psychology... No, there is clearly something more here. Perhaps among our stormtroopers there is someone who did not want the unnecessary death of the personnel of the star destroyer. And this is very strange for a stormtrooper. But not unusual for New Republic spies, for example. An unpleasant assumption, but a fact. Someone, disguised as a stormtrooper, is clearly trying to pass himself off as someone he is not.
— I will inform General Kowel to immediately withdraw this soldier from the battle, disarm him, and deliver him under escort to the board of the Chimaera, — Pellaeon voiced his intentions.
— In no case, — I forbade. — Let everything go as it goes. Order additional surveillance over him, so that he never again remains anywhere on the Freedom or Chimaera alone until my separate order. After we go into hyperspace, I will decide the fate of this man. Continue your report, Captain.
Pellaeon, obviously knocked off balance by my tirade, was silent for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts. And as soon as he decided to answer, Tshel approached him, whispering something in his ear. The captain, after pausing, nodded, and the lieutenant left.
— New information, Captain? — I asked.
— Yes, sir, — he replied. — Work on the Tartan and Strike is complete, the equipment is dismantled, the data logs are cleaned, the hard drives are removed. Everything that could somehow point to our fleet — has been destroyed or transferred to the board of the Crusader. The crews were transferred to the Errant Venture, they also stored the dismantled weapons there, fortunately... the interior space allows.
— Your hesitation indicates that there is something intriguing on Booster Terrik's former ship, — I remarked.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon took a deep breath. — I lack the words to describe it, but... Admiral, this sentient has redesigned part of the interior compartments of the star destroyer. There are now fountains, statues...
— I'm sure we will still hear the details of this bacchanalia from Chief Engineer Reyes, however, I'm sure that this is not all the information that Lieutenant Tshel told you.
— I was about to report that, — Pellaeon saddened. — No buzz droids were found on the ship.
— An unpleasant, but quite expected step, — very bad. I was hoping to get them completely free of charge. Events are taking their course. And Project Morrt is just what I need to clarify a number of points for planning future operations. — All the more reason to save the life of the Terrik father and daughter — they will still work for us. Speaking of their family. Has Master C'baot still not come to his senses?
— No, sir, still in a coma...
— Good. Contact Honoghr. Let them send several death commando groups to Yomar. Their task is to conduct reconnaissance of the area. Equip the future dwelling of our master with eavesdropping devices and continue surveillance until further orders. The Master knows where he should get to. And I will not be at all surprised if he is now, using the situation, trying to conduct his behind-the-scenes games.
— Do you think that he can communicate with Horn now? — Pellaeon's eyes widened, and his hand reached for his belt, where the holster with his standard weapon should have been, but was absent. At the time, when C'baot was on board, the weapon remained in the arsenal. And only those who were within the range of the ysalamiri could get it. Stormtroopers, for example.
— I won't be surprised if this happens. The Master is not known for his patience. And it's quite suspicious that, having learned about the presence of Force-sensitive beings on board the Invidious, he didn't want to get them for himself. So, we will continue to pretend that everything is going according to plan. But we will hedge against unforeseen circumstances. Nogri will play their part in this. Needless to say — neither they, nor their ship should be discovered by either the locals or those who arrive later. And yes, — I pointed to the lizard that had fallen asleep at my feet. — Send it to the cage closer to our Jedi.
— Will be done, sir.
— And now let's return to your report, which has a tendency to be interrupted, — I couldn't help but smile slightly, looking at how the sleepy Tshel once again mumbled something to his commander. I wonder, what's the reason this boy is here? After all, before the start of the battle with the New Republic ships, we changed the watch — those who fought under the influence of Battle Meditation were already almost falling off their feet, and they had to be changed for colleagues from another watch during the time that I was talking with Yonka. But the last thing is not my merit, Pellaeon himself took the initiative here. But he still prefers to test Tshel's strength. Curious.
— General Covell took Leonia Tavira prisoner on the Invidious, — Pellaeon finally reported. — With the help of the ysalamiri, three unknown beings were captured, in closed armor of an unknown type and armed with lightsabers. The star destroyer has a considerable amount of damage, the march drives are damaged, but it can produce a third of its cruiser speed, and leave for hyperspace to Tangrene. Most of its crew surrendered to us and expressed a desire to return to Imperial service under your command...
"How "unexpected," — I thought. Considering that the crew of the Invidious in the past were Imperial servicemen under the command of Imperial Admiral Teradok (if my memory serves me correctly), the attempt to return to service instead of being convicted for piracy is a more than logical act from their point of view. Because in the past, pirates in the Empire faced not the most pleasant fate. And at the moment they don't even imagine how the winner will dispose of their lives. And again, this opens up new and new horizons for the development of events.
— ... the pirates on the Neutron Star agree to surrender and give us their cruiser in exchange for saving their lives, — Pellaeon continued. Also a sensible act. For the most part, if, apart from this incident, there are no claims against them from the Empire, then in this way they can really exchange their lives. And most likely, at least — at the moment — I am inclined to agree to their "offer". The main thing is to get out of here as quickly as possible. I'm not a Jedi, but my logic is in order — there is a suspicion that someone will soon arrive here. — Search groups discovered forty-seven surviving pirate pilots and more than fifty various fighters and "freaks" with pilots inside who died from decompression or due to life support system failure. All the machines were delivered to the hangars of our ships, the pilots were placed in the brigs. Captain Kalian, with the help of stormtrooper units from the Steel Aurora, subjugated the MC80. The ship is in a relatively combat-ready condition and can independently reach Tangrene. On the Venator and Acclamator, the last resistance is either destroyed, or the surviving pirates have surrendered — there are no more than a hundred sentients. The remaining trophy ships, suitable for restoration and further service, have been delivered to the board of the fleet's starships.
And this news can't but please. Even my mood rises.
— Do you have any information about the repair of the Sentinel and Steel Aurora? — looking at the chronometer, I noticed that about thirty minutes had passed since the beginning of the conversation with the commander of the Chimaera — the maximum time I had set for being in the Rugosa system. And in fact, most of the urgent matters are now completed...
— Everything is in accordance with the preliminary reports, — this time Pellaeon had to request data additionally. — They will be able to leave Rugosa, but they won't reach Tangrene. They will have to make short hyperspace jumps at minimum energy consumption and give the reactors time to cool — otherwise, detonation of the power plants is possible.
Therefore, we will have to adapt to them and return to Tangrene at a snail's pace, having on our tail in a day or two (depending on how soon it becomes known about what happened in the Rugosa system) the squadrons of the New Republic, which will definitely have at their disposal either interdictor-type cruisers (which is doubtful, since the new authorities of Coruscant do not have so many such star destroyers, and besides, they are mainly based in the Core Worlds), or Immobilizer 418-type interdictors (of which they have plenty), or — some similar starships, but with a similar purpose. To risk the entire fleet because of two starships, which, even upon returning to the base, will have to undergo lengthy repairs — is not a matter. In one battle, I got three Imperial II-type star destroyers, a Mon Calamari Star Cruiser, a Neutron Star-type cruiser, a Venator-type star destroyer, an Acclamator II-type assault cruiser, some number of fighters and other enemy smaller craft, a Mon Calamari Star Cruiser, no fewer than two DP-20 Corellian corvettes... something else seems to have been there, or so it seems to me?! However, this fact is not so important now.
Having lost only two not-so-strong starships in battle — a medium and a patrol cruiser, leaving their unusable counterparts as a trap, and having in my hands seriously damaged Victory and Interdictor, I simply do not have the right to hamper the main forces with these two "underdogs." Because if we fall into a trap, delaying the retreat, then we can lose absolutely everything and everyone. And then my plans would be ruined.
Yes, partly I want to save everyone and arrive triumphantly in Tangrene to the sound of fanfare, so that the rumor will spread throughout the Imperial Remnant, they say, look, Thrawn is good, well done, he fights and wins, let's all go under his wing, let's show what the Empire can still do?!
But at the same time, I understand that the best is the enemy of the good. I achieved a lot with this battle. Too much to risk it all. You can't be put in a compromising position. We'll have to split the ships.
— Inform Captain Schneider that the Nemesis will escort the Steel Aurora and Sentinel to our operational base on Lainuri, — to be honest, only now did I remember that I even have it. Having settled down on Tangrene and not conducting any significant raids after the operation in the Dafilvean sector, I even somewhat forgot about the outpost in the enemy's rear. And I sent a lot of trophies from the plundering of Ord-Pardron there. The ion cannon, for example. The location of the planet is unknown to any of my opponents, therefore, damaged ships can be sent there, so that they can properly be repaired and transferred to the main base. — Contact Lieutenant Jade — I will need her in five hours. Also inform General Kowel to deliver Leonia Tavira, the captain of the Invidious, and the captured Jensaarai to the brig of the Chimaera. Don't forget about my instructions regarding the stormtrooper we talked about earlier. As soon as the prisoners are delivered, the ships under the command of the Chimaera will head to Tangrene. The Nemesis, Steel Aurora, and Sentinel — to Lainuri. That's all, Captain Pellaeon. If I'm needed — I'll be in my cabin. Command.
Rising from my chair, I handed the ysalamiri to the commander of the Chimaera, unhurriedly, catching the glances of the watch officers, I headed along the central platform towards the turbolift. Now, the only thing I wanted was to lie down and sleep for at least a few hours, to let my brain rest, and the adrenaline boiling in my blood — to calm down. This tactical victory increased the size of my fleet, freed me from several problems in the future, and clearly added new ones. It is necessary to calculate the "cards" I have in my hands and decide how to play them in the future. There are already several suitable options and...
— Grand Admiral Thrawn, sir! — the enthusiastic commanding voice of Captain Pellaeon reached me from behind. Stopping, I turned around, looking at the commander of the Chimaera, standing at attention next to my chair. Eyes wide, hands at the seams, in one of them — the ysalamiri is lazily licking. I don't like this formally-official piercing look, full of admiration. It's not a good sign.
— What is it, Captain? — I asked, furtively glancing at the right and left "pits". The watch officers in them exactly copied Gilad's pose. Except without the ysalamiri. So... Did I mess up somewhere? Have I been exposed?! Rukh is to my right, but he is also without a blaster, only with knives. What the…
— To serve under your command is an honor for me, my crew, and every Imperial, sir! — the commander of the Chimaera star destroyer stated sharply, as if he had fired a blaster.
So... This is something new. And what does the Imperial naval code of conduct order a senior officer on the bridge to respond to such a statement? Think, think…
Stop. There's nothing like that in the code. And there's nothing like it. Subordinates in the Empire do not express their admiration for the commander.
— You are a good officer, Captain Pellaeon, — I said slowly. — And you have talented people under your command. Continue to improve, and one day I will say the same words to you all.
Light smiles appeared on the faces of the watch officers.
— Now get to work, — letting metal into my voice, I signaled the end of this clearly blatant and widespread violation of statutory relationships. But it was hard not to notice that this display of emotions had encouraged the people. — We are not on Tangrene yet, the enemy is still breathing down our necks. Upon returning to the base — a day off for everyone.
Despite the fact that the turbolift doors are supposedly sealed hermetically, I still heard the roar of applause. Rukh saw my sly smile.
But he won't tell anyone anything.