Nine years, seven months, and five days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fourth year, seven months, and five days after the Great Resynchronization.
The planet Baroli was located in the star system of the same name. In the sector of the same name. And if the Imperial tactical astrochart also named quadrant N-14, where the planet was located, Baroli, then it should be admitted that the local population had problems with imagination.
The exact same problems as with hair color options. Everywhere you look — everyone has blue hair. No shades, no highlights — just blue. And this made it feel a little, just a tiny bit, nauseous and dizzying. Like you turned into a fruit that ended up in a blue cocktail and you're the only one who's different from the rest.
Therefore, in order to avoid unnecessary glances and identification, I had to cover my hair with a hood, in the manner of one of the human religions wandering around the Expansion Region. Where, in fact, the planet Baroli settled a long time ago. And these religions wandered from planet to planet along the Hydian Way — somewhere they found new followers, somewhere local governments expelled unwanted guests. The reaction is always different. On Baroli, everyone didn't care about various religions — locals went to wandering temples, watched and listened enthusiastically, and then massively adopted a new religion. And so on until new preachers appeared, when the cycle of madness repeated again. In the end, the missionaries decided not to waste time and resources on the naive Baroli and preferred to fly around the planet the long way.
Once upon a time, this world joined the Old Republic without any objections. Then — accepted the proposal to merge with the Confederacy of Independent Systems. And after the landing of Imperial stormtroopers on the surface, the local government thought that it would actually be nice to defect to a more authoritative government once again.
The reason why Baroli has not yet joined the New Republic remained a mystery to many. All the neighbors in the sector were so used to the "changing shoes" of the kind-hearted, naive and absent-minded Baroli that they had no doubt that they would once again adapt to a strong hand. Which now, by the way, was in the hands of the new masters of Coruscant.
The cantina she needed was a small, welcoming, almost family-run place away from the bustling central street. Everything as the target liked.
There were few visitors in the cantina, and finding the right person among the blue-haired Baroli was not difficult. He was sitting with his back to the entrance and studying something with interest on the screen of a personal and well-modified datapad. Alone. Not the slightest hint of cover or a panic button — it took several sweeps of the quarter in one way or another provoking potential observers to make sure of this. But no one took the bait. It seemed that you could climb onto the roof of a neighboring building with a clear conscience, assemble a sniper rifle in full view of everyone, then blow the kid's brains out and leave peacefully.
In the old days, Thrawn's Talon Karrde's genius of encryption and cryptography would never have been left alone.
Zakarisz Ghent flinched, almost screamed, and almost hit the guest in the face with his blue-haired head when he was gently patted on the shoulder. I had to react and push the bright (in every sense) head away a little.
— You're as careless as ever, Ghent, — said the guest, sitting down at the table opposite and looking expectantly at the "slicer." — Close your mouth, or I can see your breakfast.
— Mara?! — whispered the "slicer," his eyes wide. — How?! Where from?!
— I don't think you need this cocktail anymore, — the red-haired beauty demonstratively ignored the questions pouring down on her, picking up the long-settled milk drink and taking a couple of sips from it. — Garbage. I once advised you to eat normally. Judging by the menu, they don't feed you scraps here.
— And they charge a decent price... — muttered the "slicer," returning to his seat. — Oh, Mara, if you knew how glad I am that you're alive...
— If you knew how much I want to box your ears for rummaging through Imperial databases, — said the Hand of Thrawn with a charming smile.
The blue-haired guy blushed.
— Sorry, I... Karrde said that after meeting the Grand Admiral on Myrkr you switched to the Empire. And that you were always an Imperial spy...
Zakarisz Ghent.
— Talon, as always, is playing with information to his advantage, — sighed the girl, leaning back on the comfortable sofa and looking at one of the best (or most likely — the best) computer hackers the galaxy knew. — I think you learned a lot in the Imperial files, didn't you?
— There was no information about you at all before you were enlisted as a lieutenant in the Imperial Fleet, — the young boy with the childish face told her. — I searched after Myrkr on Karrde's orders. And I found nothing.
— It's nice when your life belongs only to you, isn't it, Ghent? — Jade asked with a smile.
— Well... — the boy glanced at his datapad. Which clearly has a long-distance communication module attached to it. And an encryption unit. Undoubtedly, the boy is "cracking ice". And she even guessed whose. And by whose order. — I can't disagree. Mara, but how did you survive?! Imperial reports about you say that you died from anaphylactic shock due to an allergy to bacta...
— Ghent, — Jade smiled. — I've always been amazed at how gullible you can be to everything written in official documents. Despite the fact that you've been "cracking ice" for quite a while.
— So you're... alive? — the computer hacker asked suspiciously.
— If I hit you on the forehead now, it will hurt, — Jade said with her usual caustic sarcasm.
The young man timidly covered his tattooed forehead with his hands.
— No need, — he said, looking at her with a pleading look. — I'm... glad you're alive.
— And I'm glad you had the brains not to spread the word about what you found in the Imperial files, — Mara smiled. — Or am I wrong?
The hacker licked his lips, looking around. So she's wrong. She knows the boy well.
— Who? — she asked.
— Mazzic, — the "slicer" named his employer. — He...
— A good business partner of Karrde's organization, — finished the red-haired beast for him. — Thank you, but I know that. What exactly did you manage to tell him?
— Um... Well... — the guy hesitated. — You know I can't reveal...
— My blaster is pointing right at your stomach, — sweat appeared on the forehead of the blue-haired young man. He has always been inattentive to details, so he probably only now, after she pointed out the threat, noticed that her right hand was hidden under the table. — Let's not turn a friendly meeting into a shootout?
— I have cover, — the guy tried to be brave.
— Ghent, you know I don't like to be offended by friends, — Mara said to him with a smile. — But I don't like it even more when I'm taken for a fool. Karrde kept me in that capacity, and where is he now?
— Where? — the guy asked inquisitively.
— Isn't that said in the Imperial databases you're currently rummaging through? — Mara asked.
— Not a word, — this big child blinked his eyes. — I was looking after Myrkr on Mazzic's orders. He really wants to know what happened at Rugosa.
— What a misfortune that not all Imperials work with databases constantly, isn't it? — Mara asked.
— A-a-a... — the guy stretched out. — That's how you found me.
— My employer also has a couple of good hackers in the encryption department, — Jade explained vaguely. — But I know you too well, my friend, not to understand — after the collapse of Karrde's organization, you'll clearly fly home. And you'll work remotely. Does Mazzic pay a lot for Imperial secrets?
— Less than Karrde, — Ghent admitted.
— That's because he's saving money, hoping to take control of Talon's organization, — Mara explained. — That's why he hired you to find out the fate of your former boss. He's afraid that if he's alive and gets out of the situation as always, he'll be very, very angry.
— Karrde knows how to do that, — Ghent darkened his face. — Mara...
— What? — the beauty raised her eyebrow.
— Are you... going to kill me? — the guy asked in a trembling voice.
— Why would I do that without due cause? — she asked.
— Well... you work for the Empire, — the guy licked his parched lips again. — And I've been rummaging through your files for a couple of days... I'm learning your secrets...
— Did you learn a lot? — she asked with a smile.
— Not really, — Ghent admitted. — Only that a separate task force of Imperials really exists and is based somewhere in the Unknown Regions.
— That's all? — there was dissatisfaction in Mara's voice. — And why didn't you dare to rummage through the databases of the Imperial Remnant?
— It's scary, — he admitted. — I tried to get into Yaga Minor's systems once at Karrde's request... We barely got our legs out of the way of the star destroyer that fell on our heads.
— I see, — Jade chuckled. — Karrde wanted to get into the Ubiqtorate's archives?
— You always know everything, don't you? — Ghent became sad.
— I keep my finger on the pulse, — Jade replied. — Well, what are we going to do, dear Ghent?
— M-m-m... let's part ways? — the "slicer" suggested with a naive smile. — I'll tell Mazzic that I didn't find anything and I won't work for him anymore. And you won't shoot me...
— Do you believe that Mazzic, who's aiming for Karrde's place, will leave alone a specialist of your level, who playfully hacked the Imperial ILKO encryption code at the age of twelve, with which the exchange between the Imperial Center and the construction site of the first Death Star took place? — Mara asked.
— Well... he can't force me, — Ghent pouted. — Karrde never...
— Mazzic isn't Karrde, — Mara coldly noted. — And none of his other former "allies" have the delicacy and ability to verbally convince you to do what he wants like Talon.
— Well, then I'll just fly far away, — the boy said, disconnecting the additional modules from his portable computer.
— Ghent, buddy, — Mara Jade's voice sounded like a serpent's whisper. — I'll tell you a secret that such events are brewing in the galaxy that you can't escape if you have such knowledge and skills as you do. Of course, if you're not on one of the sides that can protect you.
— Then I'll stay with Mazzic, — the confused "slicer" stammered. — He...
— ... not the best of options, — Mara smiled. How tired she was of smiling. But otherwise, the naive young man would not understand. Only show sisterly care and guardianship. — He's in an illegal position, like the rest of the smugglers. He doesn't have such connections and shelters all over the galaxy as Karrde does. And his forces are more than modest. The most he can do is annoy more serious "players" in the galaxy. And then hide in a smaller hole and wait for the storm to pass. Believe me — it won't pass if he crosses the line and pokes his nose where it doesn't belong. And he's already done that, — she pointed to the datapad that Zakarisz was clutching to his chest. — Through you. Do you understand what I'm getting at?
— To the blaster under the table? — Ghent asked in fright. Mara took a deep breath, almost rolling her eyes. It seems she overdid it.
— To the fact that I'm not here so much to punish you, my little friend, for poking your nose where you're not asked, but mostly to help you settle on the right side, — she explained the reason for her appearance.
— On the Imperial side? — Ghent hiccuped in surprise.
— Formally, my employer wears an Imperial uniform, — she agreed. — But in fact, he doesn't share its politics, its methods, and intends to act completely differently. And on his behalf, I offer his patronage, good pay for your work, and protection.
— And don't you need to take an oath? — the "slicer" grunted in surprise.
— And do you need all this drill and wearing a uniform? — Mara clarified, knowing the answer perfectly well.
— No-o-o, — Ghent stretched out, glancing at his unfinished cocktail. Which was not the most appetizing even in the best of times, but it was cheap. Which indicated that the boy had to save every credit. — And... what about Mazzic?
— The degree of his guilt will be determined by my employer, — Mara said coldly. — If there's no harm from him, then let him live. And if he wanted to make money by selling our secrets, which are specially removed from computer access so that smart guys like you don't get to them, then the conversation will be separate.
— Mara, if I ditch Mazzic, he'll send someone after me, — Zakarisz swallowed a lump in his throat. — Some thugs.
— So what? — Jade purred. — First, we'll make sure that formally you don't owe him anything. Then, after you start working under my supervision, no one will offend you for sure.
— I don't want to seem ungrateful, — Ghent grimaced. — But you can't stand alone against Mazzic's thugs or someone else from Karrde's former partners, Mara. No, you're cool and all that, but...
— Ghent, — continuing to smile with all her might, but being at the peak of boiling point, Jade said in a velvety voice. — Believe me — if someone tries to offend you when you're under my protection, he'll have to deal with an Imperial star destroyer, which will fly in at our first call. I'm sure that none of Karrde's former partners — whether it's Mazzic or someone else — are so stupid as to get involved with the famous Imperial "triangles".
The young hacker (who is only a few years younger than herself, but sometimes a child-child) bit his lip amusingly. He chewed it, thoughtfully examining the table top. Then he finally raised his eyes to the red-haired beauty:
— And will they feed you normally there? — he voiced his pressing question of the last few weeks. Needless to say, Mazzic never paid much for his work. That's why Zakarisz returned to his homeland — the standard of living here is acceptable, but not as expensive as in most worlds.
— And they'll let you watch holofilms after midnight, — Mara promised him with caustic mockery.
— Then I agree, — he exhaled. — Only... first we need to get rid of Mazzic's claims. I don't want him hanging on my tail.
— Of course we'll get rid of them, — Mara smiled, taking out an infochip with it clamped in it from under the table. — He was interested in Karrde's whereabouts, wasn't he? So let's give him what he wants. This will be your first assignment in the service of my command.
No need to play with words anymore. "Employer" and so on... She successfully transformed the terms more familiar to him in the mind of the "slicer" into what most corresponds to expectations and reality.
— So, you didn't have a blaster? — Ghent became sad, realizing that he could not shake like a leaf in the wind.
— I never carry a blaster with me, — Mara kindly enlightened him. After waiting a second of theatrical pause, she demonstratively checked how easily her weapon was removed from the hidden holster. — I have at least two of them with me...
Ghent didn't finish drinking the disgusting cocktail. Somehow he didn't want to eat at all.
***
Suarbi 7 is a huge gas giant surrounded by a massive asteroid field and three dozen moons, among which the planetoid I needed was floating in space.
Susevfi.
This is the name of one of the moons of the planet Suarbi 7. Located in quadrant O-19.
A world so insignificant that even in the data obtained by the Chimaera as a result of an information raid on Obroa-skai, it was not immediately possible to find any mention of this planetary satellite. I had to work hard to find the necessary information — and even then, only thanks to the historical information that the Jensaarai shared in one way or another during the flight to their home world.
Doubly surprising is this approach to the Imperial treatment of inhabited and habitable worlds, given that the Imperial catalogs and the databases of the bureaucratic apparatus do not contain any information about Suarbi VII. Despite the fact that the residence of the Imperial Moff was located on the inhabited planetoid. That is, there was a representative of the Coruscant bureaucratic machine, taxes were paid, maybe even some kind of inspections were carried out, but... not the slightest mention in the archives. Not to mention that it takes a very, very long time to fly to the nearest HoloNet repeater... Actual information isolation.
No wonder that Leonia Tavira, after her arrival in this system on the now-owned star destroyer, killed the local governor and subjugated the population, taking them hostage, no one stirred to bring retribution on her. For years she hid in this secluded corner of the Quens sector of the Outer Rim and hid from retribution.
For this same reason, I ordered to move here what was lost after the raid on the Republican shipyards of Husta, as well as a significant part of the Katana Fleet. Asteroids and planetoids have rich deposits of metals and minerals that can be used for repair, restoration and modernization work on the fleet's ships.
And here, rocking their snow-white sides, were now Mon Calamari starships — five MC80 star cruisers that were being re-equipped at the expense of transports with weapons and spare parts stolen from under the nose of Prince-Admiral Crannel. And a little further away were the Action series trucks once captured from Talon Karrde — his flagship and a couple of others, caught at his bases and taken prisoner along with the crews. Now my subordinates from the population of Susevfi serve on them, making flights within the system. As with the military fleet, I ended up with too many transport starships under my command, which require the participation of crew members. With a large share of probabilistic assumptions, the latter can be manned by local residents — provided that the trucks do not leave the system. Talon Karrde has a large and extensive network of friends and informants, so if his trucks appear somewhere outside of Susevfi, they will be recognized, identified, and most likely tagged for further tracking.
The Chimaera hung in orbit around Susevfi, gracefully gliding along an invisible trajectory. I stood with my back to the beings in the compartment, contemplating the beauty of this world and the splendor of the gas giant in the distant background. It's a pity that it doesn't contain tibanna gas. Although... maybe it does. But it is not yet possible to conduct geological exploration and establish this with a high degree of reliability.
— Is your curiosity satisfied, Lady Saarai-kaar? — I asked.
The woman, clad in exotic armor covered with cortosis threads, nodded almost imperceptibly. Her face mask was a copy of the pretty female appearance she possessed in reality. Unfortunately, the law of life is fair even for those sensitive to the Force — over the years, her beauty began to fade. Unlike the exotic method of processing armor with cortosis threads, which blocks the operation of striking elements of most energy weapons (including the notorious lightsabers). Interesting material. And it is on this satellite.
And I need it.
— Yes, Grand Admiral, — she said. — We extract cortosis in small quantities — enough for students to process the armor they make to pass the final test to become a Jensaarai Protector.
And the latter is a variant of the Jedi Knight rank, from whose Order the Jensaarai separated very, very long ago. If you believe Saarai-kaar's stories — shortly before or at the very beginning of the Clone Wars. Another divergence from the philosophical views with the High Council of the Order... The hackneyed phrase comes to mind: "It's never happened before, and suddenly it's happening again." From what I read and heard in my time about the history of the Jedi Order, it always seemed to me that the latter learn only by the method of introducing life experience into their heads by stepping on a rake from generation to generation. However, is it up to me to criticize those whose history spans tens of thousands of years? Too long a period to simply "live perfectly." We are all not without sin.
— I am not asking you to reveal the location of your mine or deposits, — I reminded her. — Just allow me to use this material to protect my bodyguards.
Saarai-kaar looked at me in such a way that if it wasn't for the little ysalamiri looking mockingly from my shoulder, then I'm sure my brains would be crowded with those who wanted to read what is rightfully only mine.
— You know that the Jensaarai can provide you with bodyguards themselves, — the woman said. — Equipped as only we can do.
A subtle hint that they would not really like to spread their secret.
As is the fact that they received knowledge of how to process cortosis from the records of the Sith who lived on this satellite hundreds of years ago. I saw numerous glyphs of a strange language carved on dozens of colonnades and other places on the planet during my tour. Saarai-kaar called them the Sith language. I did not object to her, but noted that the writing of the symbols is simultaneously intimidating, frightening and at the same time — delightfully elegant. Beauty and deadliness... An interesting combination for an ancient language.
— No doubt, — I agreed. — And I appreciate your offer. However, I cannot accept it. At least — at the moment.
— You don't trust us? — the woman asked suspiciously.
— In that case, I would not be here, our training and conscription center would not be located on Susevfi, food would not be unloaded from the bowels of the Chimaera into the settlement's barns on the planet, and dozens of my ships would not be hiding among the asteroids under the protection of your people, — I replied. — Note that the lion's share of ensuring the security of my facilities is the concern of your Jensaarai, who are ready to use the Force to divert any curious gaze from the location of my facilities. By the way, Captain Pellaeon still can't get over the shock and sent you a big hello. Don't judge him too harshly — he is an old soldier and obscene language is often used by people of his nature to express their feelings and emotions.
The woman looked away embarrassed.
A small demonstration of the combined efforts of the Jensaarai — when the Chimaera, after the raid on Ithor, jumped to complete negotiations with the Jensaarai, Saarai-kaar, informed of my arrival, decided to strengthen her position in the negotiations a little. I have no doubt that her son informed his mother about his work on Dantooine. And the Jedi relics brought from there became the gift I promised for the development of the Jensaarai.
So, when the Chimaera emerged from hyperspace and was supposed to receive signals from patrols about the safe fairway, it turned out... That everything had disappeared. Both the ships, the stations, and the orbital repair shops...
And while I was slowly trying to recover, Pellaeon could not restrain himself and in the good old pan-galactic with a mixture of Corellian expression expressed to the hologram of Saarai-kaar, who decided to greet us, everything he thinks about her desires, abilities and where he saw all this in general. I can't blame him — the Jensaarai slightly overdid it with their illusions or with the help of what they hide our equipment, just like Tavira's star destroyer once did. Judging by the fact that the illusion did not last long, the small number and lack of training of the surviving Jensaarai affects their effectiveness. And it almost cost us getting into big trouble.
It so happened that their "diversion" also caught one rather large asteroid right in the course of the Chimaera. And only the lightning reaction of the helmsman and operators of the tractor beams, as well as the panic of the gunners who shot the poor stone, saved us from a long repair in the nearby "cell".
— My decision is dictated by other considerations than your assumption of distrust, Saarai-kaar. — I explained. — You use all your defenders and students to protect my property. I can assume that allocating a dozen or two trained specialists to me will negatively affect the security of ships and stations. I wouldn't want that. Despite the fact that this star system is far from the busy hyperspace routes, our transport and military starships still appear here. One way or another, ships of the New Republic will appear here one day. If your protection is of poor quality, they will destroy, and worst of all — capture my ships. But this will be a lesser loss compared to what they can do to the Jensaarai who cooperate with me.
Saarai-kaar silently looked away. Unpleasant, but a fact. Both she and I understood perfectly well that the Jensaarai are no match for the Jedi. If I have correctly built the assessment scale, then the first Jensaarai were just Jedi who intertwined their knowledge with some Sith techniques. It turned out вроде бы как и неплохо, да вот беда — most of them were exterminated by the Jedi or Darth Vader, to whom they foolishly tried to join. A man in a stylish cloak and hatred of sands worked hard to destroy them. Those who remained, for the most part, by Jedi standards — undereducated, at best the so-called "Padawans". And they have not developed much over the past time. Two, maybe three advanced techniques, such as sensitivity to the direct danger of the protected object (and even that with a flaw and only one or two beings remain living practitioners of this technique) or "diversion". Otherwise... they are weak. So much so that they don't even represent attention for the madman who is going to resurrect the Jedi Order. True, they will be as crazy as he is.
The same crazy clone Joruus C'baoth proved the defenselessness of the Jensaarai against Force-sensitive opponents with one effort of will, killing most of the protectors guarding Leonia Tavira during the Ambush at Rugosa.
— We would not like to lose control over the cortosis processing techniques, — she said. Well, you have voiced your desire. And it coincides with my true goals.
— In that case, I'm sure we'll find a compromise, — I said, glancing at Major Tierce, clad in the black and scarlet robes of the Imperial Guard, standing near the exit. — I suppose it is not at all necessary that the armor covered with cortosis be worn directly by Force-sensitive beings, is it?
— This has not been tested among the Jensaarai, — Saarai-kaar noted. — But... I think it's possible.
— In that case, I suggest that you send my bodyguards' armor sets to your masters to be processed with cortosis, — I suggested. — So the processing technique will remain your secret, and my bodyguards will receive the necessary equipment.
— To be honest, I thought Fodeum would be your protector, — the woman said quietly. What an interesting decision — to put her son next to me. And along with him in the set are only eyes and ears, or is there also recording equipment? I don't particularly like being looked over my shoulder.
— But he's a student, — I noted. — I don't diminish his merits in the slightest, but I'm sure he can currently bring more benefit as the head of an expedition to search for ancient secrets. Or are you telling me that his presence near me is more important than the development and acquisition of new knowledge by your Order?
— I cannot single out anything more important than another, — a very interesting formulation of the answer. Let's remember, let's fix it. — We are grateful to you for providing us with ancient Jedi artifacts, but they only help to learn history, not to develop.
Unfortunately, a few ancient statuettes, mosaics and other decorative junk are all that the search parties have been able to find so far in the ruins of the long-destroyed Jedi enclave on Dantooine in such a short time.
— Archaeological work is still underway, — I reminded her. — And my more competent specialist has been sent to them.
On whom great hopes are placed in the search for at least some records, data storage and other information carriers with data on Jedi art in order to teach the Jensaarai something new. Since it turned out that I have poorly trained (but surely — promising) personnel under my command, then for the sake of further cooperation, I need to continue searching for Jedi knowledge and delivering it to Susevfi.
Of course, it would be possible to spit on caution and send search parties to those places where, according to my memories, there were definitely some hidden knowledge. Korriban — the birthplace of the Sith, Yavin IV with its secrets from the ancient Jedi Exar Kun and a considerable number of both artifacts and knowledge carriers. However, I am not sure that such "unfledged" minds as the Jensaarai are currently ready to accept the information of the Sith. And I really don't want them to get out of my control, defect to the side of the long-dead Sith, who have the ability to prolong their lives in the form of ghosts, because after this unreasonable act, the next Jedi-Sith wars will flare up in the galaxy again. Since Palpatine already has Force-sensitive beings in his service, I also need my own. Luke Skywalker is, without a doubt, good. But practice shows that neither he nor his family are immune to mistakes.
And as I can recall, the extraordinariness, inconsistency and complete lack of pedagogical talent of Darth Vader's son for many decades supplied the galaxy with fallen Jedi, plunging it into another bloody showdown. If I intend to demonstrably demonstrate to the galaxy the fundamental difference between my position and the cruelty of the Galactic Empire and the frivolity of the New Republic, then the issue of the controllability of the Jensaarai Order must be kept on the permanent agenda. Therefore, given the peacefulness and "protective" orientation of the Jensaarai doctrine, I decided that it would be most correct to first of all give them knowledge about the Jedi of the past — wherever they were found.
At the moment, in addition to excavations on Dantooine, I had several options on how to promote progress among the Jensaarai. The first and most reasonable is to find out the path to Ossus through the records of the Agamar University and send search teams there. Long, tedious, costs a lot of money, but if I remember correctly, Luke Skywalker, having found himself on this ancient Jedi planet, managed to find a lot of Jedi knowledge. Including a very ancient Jedi, who either disguised himself as a tree, or was one by nature. Strange are your deeds, galaxy... Sentient trees. However, what else to expect after taking semi-sentient trees from Ithor?
There seems to be another ancient Jedi in some kind of stasis on Yavin IV. And I am deeply convinced that Palpatine and Vader did not exterminate all the Jedi. You just need to look for them. After all, nothing has been known about many Jedi after Order 66. Maybe they are dead, maybe not, but you never know with a Hutt. Even taking into account the widespread opinion that the Jedi of the twilight of the Old Republic were not the most combat-ready, this does not change the state of affairs — desperate times call for desperate measures.
It is better not to remember the already known to me "under-Jedi" like Kyle Katarn or Galen Marek at all. These pose a greater threat if they oppose me. And the only one who can fight them on equal terms is Inquisitor Reynar Obscuro. At least he has some kind of systematic education and training. But... And this option is "wormy". After all, he was trained under the supervision of the Sith, and this is exactly what I would not like to bring to the Jensaarai society now.
Like many other options with searching for long-lost, but mentioned here and there tombs, holocrons and other things... Now I was thinking about whether to find a couple or three mercenaries to search for Jedi artifacts on the black market. I am sure that there is a lot of interesting things there... But so far this plan is in development. I am much more interested in meeting with another being, scheduled for the near future. Since Baron D'Asta is postponing the meeting again.
— I understand, — the woman said. — And I thank you for showing concern for my people and the Order.
— Promises must be kept, — I said.
She understood the hint. No one does anything for free and out of kindness. One day I will summon the Jensaarai to service. As I am already doing with the local residents of Susevfi. And although there are not many of them, they are able to fill certain vacancies.
— The Jensaarai will be happy to assist you in processing the armor of your guards, — she said. — But I will have a request.
How unexpected... Let me guess.
— The Shadow Guardsman will arrive on Susevfi to train the Jensaarai in the art of lightsaber combat, — I said, knowing perfectly well that on Dantooine, Mr. Fodeum Sabre Del'luz and the former Inquisitor are practicing in this type of special training. — As soon as he finishes the work in the destroyed enclave.
— Thank you for the honor, Grand Admiral, — she said. — And also for the supplies of food and necessities that you and your people have provided for us.
— The samples of grain crops, as I was informed, are perfect for the fertile fields of Susevfi, — I noted.
— That's right, Grand Admiral, — Saarai-kaar assured me. — I am sure that the mild climate and black soil will allow the people of the planet to harvest a large amount of crops.
— Enough to feed a multi-million army? — I clarified.
The woman paused for a moment, looking me in the eyes. After the overthrow of the pirate Leonia Tavira, it was Saarai-kaar who became the representative of this planet. Of course, she had assistants from among the local residents, but she conducted the dialogue directly with me.
— We will need a large amount of new plowed land, — she said. — As well as fertilizers, agricultural droids, more seeds and crops... Currently, the best agricultural minds on the satellite are busy planting bofforr trees on a separate island, which you delivered. I think after we finish with this, we can discuss with them how much and how quickly we can free up the necessary fields for sowing.
— Prepare a list of everything necessary for a successful sowing season, — I said. And we should not forget about the construction of a biological laboratory on one of the satellites. It is there that the specialists, who have yet to be found, will study a number of tasks... Including bofforr pollen...
Well, there is a lot of work ahead. A lot.
***
Observing with the help of a datapad through external surveillance cameras the movement of the person he needed in a dark cloak, Imperial Agent Torin Inek was forced to admit the obvious.
— This Jedi is fantastically stupid, — he said in a half-whisper. But the soldiers nearby heard him. And laughed quietly. Casting a cold glance at them, the officer called his subordinates to order.
"I should have left him a map," Torin thought, reflecting on the fact that this was the longest operation he had ever had to wait out.
To begin with, the Jedi, having found himself in a local cantina-dump called "Mishru" in an attempt to obtain information, made a splash in the eyes of the local inhabitants of New Cov, failing to resolve a simple conflict between a Barabel and a Rodian. The latter hired the former to carry out work to track down and destroy nests of some kind of beasts and paid the performer in temporary Imperial currency, which wandered around the worlds of the Remnant as an attempt to fence off the influx of Republican money, which the new masters of Coruscant introduced. After all, operating the enemy's currency in your market is strengthening the enemy's economy.
So, the Jedi, having heard that the Barabel was not notified of the currency in which he would be paid, received from the Rodian an assurance that he was only an intermediary who was paid with the same coins, leaving no choice — either this way, or stay without a fee at all. Inek, who was present in the cantina at that moment, almost burst out laughing when he heard this excuse.
You have to be a complete idiot to believe the Rodian's stories. Temporary currency circulated exclusively in the worlds and stations of the Imperial Remnant. It is impossible to smuggle this money past the customs — neither the planetary nor the Republican. And even more so, no one will pay with it in neutral worlds, where the credits of the Galactic Empire are still in circulation. Or the Hutt peggats, if the matter concerns territories close to the slug planets.
Not to mention that paying with Imperial temporary money in neutral or Republican worlds is actually hanging a target on your back and admitting that you are cooperating with the Imperials. Or at least — you are doing business on both sides of the conflict. Which is also not particularly welcome in the current galaxy.
One way or another, but the Barabel demanded payment in Republican currency, the Rodian stood his ground, claiming that he only had Imperial money. And the Jedi, with scattered attention, tried frantically to come up with how to get out of the situation...
He never found a way to resolve the conflict, offering both to agree that the payment would be in Imperial currency. Those present — from the Barabel to the last drunkard in the cantina — literally destroyed the Jedi with a look. Oh, how much the New Republic was wrong to advertise its only Jedi and praise him at every corner. Torin almost shed a tear when he saw the confused expression on his face when Skywalker realized that he was not able to resolve the situation with at least minimal losses for each of the parties. And hurried to retreat...
Inek managed to leave the necessary trace at the very last moment, attracting the attention of a couple ready to tear each other's throats and offered the Rodian to exchange his Imperial money for Republican money at the black market rate. Thus demonstrating his involvement in doing business with the Empire. Which did not escape the Jedi, who seemed to have left the cantina, but no, no, he lingered in the doorway to observe the resolution of the situation. Torin ignored him, as if he did not see him. But at the same time, he clearly made it clear that he was by no means an ordinary mortal.
Then, having broken away from the Jedi's surveillance, only strengthened his suspicions by allowing him to follow to the warehouse, where the captive Corellian was located. But the appearance of local residents, who had already heard about Skywalker's embarrassment, forced the latter to retreat to his hotel and not show his nose from there for some time.
It was starting to get annoying, so Torin organized surveillance of him and his X-wing. The Jedi meditated hard (or just slept sitting), studied the city with the help of publicly available maps on the local computer network, or disappeared near his damned fighter, not allowing the surveillance teams to do their job...
Inek had time to shave off his grown stubble twice before he received an order from the command — to act. Here and now.
Provoking the Jedi into active action turned out to be quite easy — you only needed to get caught once by his droid trying to break into the lock of the dock where the fighter was located. The poor astromech didn't even know how badly he had been led around the finger at that moment. And what happened in the hangar after he was stunned from an ion blaster, and then "saw an attempted intrusion." No, seriously, who gives birth and manufactures such gullible people?
Then, the same person — to show his attention to the Jedi himself, quietly visiting him in his room and arranging a search, which left behind barely distinguishable traces of someone else's presence, again lead him to the territory of the warehouses and allow him to make sure that there is a serious system of electronic locks and surveillance. To get the understanding — you can't do without an astromech with hacking modules...
And now, finally, the glorious couple set off on a raid under the cover of another night... It's funny that at the same time a group of Bothan operatives "fell" on the trail of the Imperials. And came to exactly the same conclusions... Well, what good fellows! Now it is clear why the delegation did not arrive — on Coruscant they decided to first find out why their liaison with the Corellian group of Garm bel Iblis was absent in the usual place. N-yes... they caught one fish, and found several at once. Maybe we should wait a little longer, so that the heroes of the Alliance run up? It will be possible to kill everyone at once.
E-e-eh, an order is an order. Well, nothing, another time.
Glorious heroes are going to search for and save a woman in trouble. This is in the future. In fact, Skywalker now believes that he is hunting for an Imperial cell. Well, well...
No wonder their Order was so easily killed almost thirty years ago — naive as bows.
Having made sure from the operatives that Skywalker was indeed moving to the warehouse, Torin, not particularly hiding (after all, he is dressed in the uniform of the port service) entered the dock where the enemy ship was located. No one will even pay attention to him — because according to the port data, Skywalker himself asked to repair his ship. What you won't do to get the job done.
Whistling a cheerful melody, Agent Inek began to install tracking and sabotage equipment on Skywalker's X-wing.
***
Luke found the warehouse he needed without any problems. The faithful R2 de-energized the security systems and the electronic lock, the operation of which the young Jedi was so afraid of, after which access to the warehouse territory was free.
Frankly, he didn't know what he was looking for here. He just discovered surveillance of himself and his ship after that strange incident in the cantina, when he saw with what ease an unknown man operates currency rates... It was then that the suspicion arose that he was an Imperial agent. Perhaps the very one who participated in the attack on the local governor, and then in the organization of the rebellion.
Luke did not want to develop this thought, but it stubbornly climbed into his head. What if this Imperial is the key to the Bothans' affairs on New Cov? What if the worst is the truth that Leia wanted to find before her disappearance?
Luke gritted his teeth and squeezed the lightsaber in his hand even harder.
No matter how hard he tried, the Great Force did not help him find the missing princess. No matter how much he reached out to her in the Force, he could not find her... And this scared him the most. He hoped that his past experience of rushing headlong to rescue his sister and friends was a telling example of what NOT to do when dealing with visions of the Force... And he was very afraid of being wrong this time.
How he lacked a full-fledged education... Sometimes so much that he almost envied Corran Horn, who either disappeared, or still found the Jedi Master C'baoth. Of course, he worried about his fate — as well as about the fate of other Force-sensitive beings with whom fate brought him together over the years. After all, they are all potential Jedi, defenders of the world... However, they do not want to learn from him.
Maybe the thing is that he himself does not really know anything, does not know how to do anything and he himself should learn properly? After all, he made such offers to adult beings, who... how can I put it mildly... understand that he calls himself a Jedi Knight not because he is so skilled and powerful, but simply because he was APPOINTED a Jedi.
This bitter thought visited him in that very cantina, when the bartender offered to deal with the problem of paying for the services of the Barabel... When he was called a Jedi Knight. The memory pricked in his brain: after all, Jorus C'baoth himself usurped his title. Like Luke, when he threw aside the lightsaber on board the second Death Star, having fought with his father... He himself declared himself a Jedi. And only many years later he learned that it was not accepted in the Order...
There was a quiet "boo-oop", the source of which was R2.
— Yes, — Luke also said in a whisper. — I also feel beings ahead. Five or six...
The astromech beeped questioningly.
— Stay behind me, — Skywalker asked his mechanical friend. — If necessary, I'll handle them myself.
"Probably," he thought grimly. He couldn't handle a simple dispute, but here...
Shaking his head, he banished unnecessary thoughts from it. Now is not the time to reflect.
He passed a short corridor connecting the entrance group with a spacious main warehouse. As far as the eye could see, everything here was filled with boxes and transport containers, so he did not have much difficulty moving forward.
But having reached the place where he felt the lights of life, he somehow felt uncomfortable...
He saw a human woman tied to a metal chair, around whom Bothans were fussing. Three operatives were doing something with her bonds — either tying them tighter, or vice versa... The fourth, judging by his appearance and clothes, is the commander. And he is clearly not used to getting his hands dirty with such mundane problems. All as one — armed. And judging by their movements, there is no point in cherishing the hope that these are ordinary passers-by — over the years of service in the Rebel Alliance, Luke has learned to identify trained soldiers. Even without the help of the Force...
— There are four of them, — he said quietly. — And where are the others?
He reached forward, to the beings he had discovered with the Force, putting all of himself into it, when suddenly...
There was a dry click behind him, a sad whistle of R2, and the Force belatedly warned him that someone was behind his back.
Turning around, he saw a couple more Bothans. In whose hands were blaster pistols. Pointed with the barrels at him.
Something like this had already happened to Luke more than once: as soon as he concentrated his attention and used the Great Force on something, he lost the ability to control the situation around him. From those knowledge of the ancient Jedi, which he managed to acquire over the past five years, the young follower of the teaching of the Jedi Order, knew that such carelessness had more than once and not twice cost the lives of thousands of Jedi. Which only confirmed the bitter truth — the use of the Great Force does not insure against the admission of sad and annoying mistakes. Such as the appearance in your rear of a couple of opponents with blasters aimed at your chest.
There will be no problems with repelling shots, if only...
— Outsider, — said one of the Bothans into the comlink fixed on his arm. Luke felt, rather than saw, how a couple more Bothans from those who were fiddling with the prisoner appeared next to him. And they were located correctly — to provide maximum fire support to each other and not get caught in the crossfire. Now there is no doubt — he was dealing with Bothan special forces.
The astromech sadly grumbled, demonstrating the restraining bolt attached to it.
— Get rid of him, — another Bothan said in a sharp voice. Luke glanced and saw that the order for his elimination was issued by the very Bothan commander.
— I wouldn't advise you to do this, — Skywalker honestly warned. — I don't want unnecessary victims.
His thumb rested on the activation key of the lightsaber... He didn't want to kill, but to die here at the hands of traitors — even less pleasure.
— We'll handle it, — the Bothan commander grated. — Drop your weapon and step...
— Not so fast, — and this voice is clearly female. Luke dared to take a step back, pressing his back against the large container. If a shootout starts, he will be able to do a somersault back and... — I know this person.
— Nonsense, — the Bothan commander exhaled. — Imperial spy!
— That's not true, — Luke said with resentment in his voice. — Imperial spies don't have a lightsaber with them...
The woman, who was still being untied until that moment, stood nearby, rubbing her wrists, which had been squeezed by the bonds.
— And I keep thinking, where do I know this face from, — she said with a painful smile on her face. Turning to the Bothan leader, she asked:
— Am I imagining things, or is this the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker?
The Bothan's fur rippled.
— Nonsense, — he repeated, but not as confidently as last time. Luke caught that recognition flashed among this Bothan's subordinates... and confusion. It looks like they also just realized who they had trapped. — This is — an Imperial spy!
R2 unequivocally insulted the liar with a melodious trill. Luke felt his cheeks beginning to turn red. And from the bottom of his heart he wished that the Bothan did not know binary...
— This droid has offended me! — the commander flared up, poking a clawed finger at the astromech. — Soldiers! Destroy him!
— Don't rush, Brey'lia, — said the unnamed woman. Only now did Luke notice that she was standing, leaning on the neighboring container. It looks like the prisoner was not feeling well enough. And if her attention had not been drawn to the disassembly, then who knows what it would have led to... And yet, this woman is incredibly brave. Luke couldn't even imagine what pain she was experiencing after being tied up for so long. Blood, having gained freedom of movement through the muscles, is probably causing her discomfort now. It's good that he felt with the help of the Force that she had no slightest damage. So she was just being held here. — If he were an Imperial spy, I would have identified him. Although they wore armor, the movements are characteristic. No, this person was not with them.
— This may be another spy! — the Bothan stubbornly stated. — We must execute him before...
— Brey'lia, — Luke frowned. — Aren't you an assistant to Councillor Borska Fey'lia? It seems that my sister mentioned you...
The Bothan's face did not express emotions, but here is his glazed look.
— It looks like you are still mistaken, Brey'lia, — the woman chuckled. Looking at Luke, she smiled and bowed almost imperceptibly to him:
— Glad to meet you, Jedi Knight.
— And how I am glad, — Luke muttered. — I hope no one else has any doubts about my identity? If necessary, I can demonstrate the serial number of my prosthesis equipment, — he barely moved his artificial fingers. — I am sure that you have access to government databases, Brey'lia, and your doubts will be dispelled. Otherwise, I see that everyone here is quick to judge and accuse.
The Bothan commander muttered something incoherent in response, after which he still ordered to lower the weapon.
— How did you get here? — meanwhile he demanded an answer.
— I was tracking down a person whom I suspected of collaborating with the Empire and provoking riots here recently, — Luke did not go into details. — The traces led me here. Where our warm and friendly meeting took place.
— That's how to look at it, — the Bothan muttered.
— I agree, — diplomacy has never been Luke's strong point. No matter how Leia tried to explain to him the basics... — And what are you doing here?
— None of your business, — the Bothan growled, apparently regaining confidence in himself. — We need to hurry...
— Don't rush so much, Brey'lia, — said the unnamed woman. — Perhaps the esteemed Jedi will help us.
— If it is in my power, — and no, Leia's lessons were not in vain. — But first I would like to know who I am helping. And what will my help consist of.
— You can call me Irenez, — the woman introduced herself. — You are already familiar with Brey'lia, the assistant to Councillor Fey'lia...
"Too many Bothan names in one period of time," Luke thought. And then he realized that he needed to listen less to the comments of his sister's husband regarding people from Botawui.
— Help... — the woman hesitated. — I think we should all get out of here first. And if you help us... Perhaps my employer will be happy to meet you.
— Irenez, — Brey'lia hissed, beside himself with anger. — This goes too far!
— As does the fact that, according to your own stories, you have been on the planet for more than a week, and you could not find me in any way, — she stated in a firm commanding voice. — What good allies!
— So now you, after we found and freed you, intend to form an alliance with the Jedi and his associates? — the Bothan squealed.
— What alliance? — the young Jedi inquired.
— This is only a careless word of our comrade Brey'lia, — Irenez said coldly, meeting eyes with the Bothan commander. — Given how he "advantageously" failed to identify the only Jedi in the entire galaxy, something tells me that the commander will want to meet with you, Knight Skywalker.
— Oh, — was all Luke could say, looking at R2, from whom the restraining bolt had already been removed. — Negotiations are not exactly my strong point... And in general, I am not an official person representing someone...
— And representing something, — the main Bothan hissed, from whom auras of irritation emanated. Luke preferred not to pay attention to this outburst. However, the Force suggested to him that he should move in this direction.
— But, if you don't mind, I'll keep you company, — he said. At the same time, he did not specifically clarify whether he considers this woman and their entire group Imperial spies. If it were so, then they would surely get rid of him, and not invite him to visit. A wonderful chance appeared to pull the string...
— In that case, we need to go to the spaceport, — Irenez stated. — And, if possible, Knight Skywalker, I need your comlink for a while.
— Yes, of course, — feeling no threat, Luke handed her the communication device. Obviously, an unspoken question was printed on his face:
— I want to call a transport for all of us, — she smiled. Brey'lia, who had a newer and clearly more powerful model of the communication device hanging on his belt, strained and gasped, attracting attention to himself, but the woman ignored him.
"I hope it won't be an Imperial star destroyer," a thought flashed in the young Jedi's head.
But it's too late to retreat, isn't it?
***
— Any problems, General Skywalker? — Irenez asked quietly, standing next to him.
— Something like that, — Luke replied evasively, peering at his own starfighter. — R2, are you sure?
The astromech whistled resentfully.
— I also remember that I did not order any technical work, — Luke whispered, making it clear to the droid that they should be less demasked. — It's good that the technicians sent you a report. And they could have forgotten and then...
I wonder what then?
He did not feel a direct threat to himself emanating from his own X-wing. But that did not mean that everything was in order.
Because the Force clearly indicated the exact opposite... Someone, possibly Imperials, did something to his car...
Luke once again cursed the publicized fame. It seems that the Imperials decided not to miss the chance and get rid of the Jedi. They just didn't take into account that he would first visit the warehouse, where he would get a clear lesson that you should not just concentrate on what is happening here and now. And relying on the Great Force, he caught this very threat...
— It looks like any other X-wing outwardly, — Irenez said calmly.
— And have you often watched Incoms? — Skywalker did not miss the opportunity to find out more in his favorite clumsy manner.
— Many things happen in life, — the woman answered vaguely.
Well, yes, yes. He didn't hope that his question would be answered right away.
Directing the Force at his fighter, he still could not determine the source of anxiety. But he decided to share his fears with a recent acquaintance.
— I'm afraid that something is wrong with the ship, — he said. — Maybe the Imperials rummaged through the computer or something...
— In that case, we should abandon it, — Irenez said in a tense voice. — And use my ship... Although I'm not sure that everything is in order with it either. After all, the Imperials "tied" me directly at the landing pad...
— I think in this situation it would be best to ask the Bothans for help, — Irenez said. — They did not leave their ship without attention.
Luke felt a pang of conscience. But, who knew?!
— We should not abandon it here, — he said decisively. — There may be something in the memory of the on-board computer that will interest them.
— Why would that be? — the young woman wondered. There is something familiar in her behavior... As if Luke had already encountered this type of people... light on their feet, loving danger and feeling inside the hurricane like a Mon Calamari in water.
"Han," the most likely candidate immediately came to mind. It looks like the Force gave him a hint about which planet gave him the company of Irenez.
— The on-board computer is synchronized with my astromech, — the Jedi explained. — This is...
— Amazing carelessness, — Irenez shook her head angrily. — And what about the memory formatting procedures on ships and droids?
— I don't welcome them, — Luke smiled strainedly. — This helps to speed up the pre-flight preparation. And a well-protected communication channel has been formed between the starship and the astromech...
— Can your R2 arrange a remote computer memory wipe? — the young Corellian clarified. Luke glanced at his mechanical friend. He squeaked indignantly and simultaneously questioningly. Having received the consent of his man to the wiping procedure, he sadly hummed... And after a couple of seconds he squeaked again.
— We've arrived, — Skywalker darkened.
— Something happened? — his ally frowned.
— R2 says that there is no longer an on-board computer in the fighter, — the young Jedi said barely audibly. — It looks like it was removed.
If you focus on the muffled curses, Irenez is clearly from Corellia. Even the turns are the same as Han used. Only from her lips they somehow sound even more embarrassing...
— Then there is no point in staying here any longer, — Irenez said decisively. — Our transport will arrive any minute. And the commander would not want the ship to linger here.
— If only I knew who this commander of yours is, — Luke lamented.
— You will find out in due time, — Irenez promised him. — And it will be useful for him to talk with you.
— As you say, — Skywalker said. — I think it's time to contact the Bothans and hope that they have not flown away yet. When we parted, it seemed to me that you had offended them.
— A typical way of manipulation among the people from Botawui, — Irenez snorted, dialing the desired frequency on his comlink. — They will survive. They need us more than we need them.
— And what do they need? — Luke inquired innocently, casting a farewell glance at his faithful X-wing.
— Curiosity is not a vice, is it, Jedi Skywalker? — the Corellian unexpectedly smiled at him. Luke felt himself blush to the tips of his ears...
***
As the unloading of the Chimaera neared completion, I delved into reading reports "from the front lines" and data from "Source Delta".
And if in the past, the cunning eavesdropping device brought a lot of extraneous information, now...
The Imperial Palace was bubbling like a geyser. And someone is going to get scalded very badly soon... Especially interesting are the not-so-new circumstances of General Dodonna's death... They remind me very much of an episode from the book "I, Iscard". That's how the Ice Heart lured Rogue Squadron into a trap... Well, Lyynuri, so Lyynuri... We will participate in this too, especially since everything is ready for the performance there.
The light on the holographic projector on the surface of the work table blinked. Looking at the encoding of the incoming signal, I snorted in satisfaction. She showed up at the right time. Well, it's time to chat on a secure line.
— Grand Admiral, — greeted me the hologram of Mara Jade. — The trap with the report worked. I tracked the source. As expected, it turned out to be an "slicer" hired by one of Car'das' former associates?
— Mr. Mazzic? — I clarified. Seeing the hologram of the girl twitch in a smile, I realized that I guessed right. But the chances weren't very high... The name "Mazzic" is the only thing I remembered from my past life regarding smugglers closely associated with Car'das. And even then, only because this being was noted in the events known to me by the destruction of an unfinished Star Destroyer at the Bilbringi shipyards.
— Ghent sent him data on the location of the Claw, — she said. — But, knowing Mazzic's suspiciousness, especially in conditions when he intends to seize control of the Car'das organization, I am sure that he will go there in the near future. A week and a half and he will be there.
Estimating the timing in my mind, I nodded satisfactorily. It checks out. At such moments it even becomes scary, doesn't the Ice Heart peek into my own thoughts.
— Proceed with other tasks, — I said. — Of course, if your "slicer" can be trusted.
— I vouch for him, — Jade smiled. — At one time I met him and helped him out of a difficult situation. Then Car'das picked up Ghent when he was in a very difficult situation. And after that, the boy served him faithfully until the disappearance of the Claw. Now the situation has repeated itself. There will be no problems with Ghent.
— Good, — I said. — This is your personal responsibility.
— I won't let you down, Emp... — the girl cut herself off, — Grand Admiral.
Without saying goodbye, I turned off the communication device, activating the data cleansing system. Not only is it very, very difficult to intercept the message, but now it is simply impossible to understand it from digital traces.
Trust is trust, but it's always worth remembering about security.
And that slip of the tongue... I have nothing against such a sonorous title as "Emperor" by its nature. But in this galaxy, too much pain and fear is associated with this word.
And it's not a sonorous one, it's "hackneyed"...
Another thing is "Grand Admiral"... Sounds good.
***
— Well, either I outsmarted myself, — Torin huffed indignantly, watching with an angry look as a single Dreadnought-class heavy cruiser disappeared into hyperspace in the night sky of New Cov. A well-known ship. Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet has those too.
— The trap with the X-wing didn't work, — commented one of the fighters, demonstratively examining the rectangular block of the T-65's main computer, located right in front of the Imperial agents. — Oh, and we could have killed the Jedi...
— Yeah, right, — Torin waved his hand. — That wasn't the task.
— It's a pity, — the subordinate sighed sadly. — Bureaucrats on Coruscant would have freaked out if they had found out that their advertised Jedi had turned into small pieces...
— Stop flying fantasies, — Torin advised, stung by the fact that his subordinate was stealing his own desires. — Go mount the computer back, we'll take this bird with us. And don't forget to turn off the communication antennas, otherwise they'll try to get into it remotely.
— We have already disabled the explosives and the beacon, — another agent informed him. — I have already given a good bribe to the local customs officers so that the ships — ours and this one — disappear from the registers.
— In cash? — Torin clarified.
— Poisoned cash, — his subordinate assured him. — The infection from the money has already soaked into their grasping palms, and the poison will work in about a couple of hours, when we won't be here anymore. So all traces have been erased.
— Then don't get on my nerves, — Inek asked. — Go check if the beacon inside the droid is transmitting the coordinates. And I warn you — if it is discovered, you will spend the rest of your days somewhere with the Kavilhu pirates without the possibility of returning, until you become pirate captains yourselves. And I, — if the venture fails, then he didn't even want to think about his fate, — I will report to the Grand Admiral via an encrypted line. If we're lucky, we'll find this Corellian commodore and get even for last year's attack on Tangrene.