Nine years, seven months, and eight days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, seven months, and eight days after the Great Resynchronization.
The Bothan's fur went in such a wave that it began to seem as if he was preparing to erupt a tsunami from his body. Or pour so much wool from himself that everyone present would develop allergies. Even those who never had it.
— You have exceeded your authority, Councilor Mon Mothma, — there was no threat in Fey'lya's tone. On the contrary, his voice was calm, pointedly indifferent, and official. — You had no right to send General Solo on special assignments without my knowledge.
Han, who had been looking at the floor in front of him until now, looked up at the Bothan burning with quiet hatred and almost smiled. Oh, how much effort it cost him to do this. I would like to see how this blank for a rug will rage and throw, when someone he does not particularly love is devotedly smiling in his face. Unfortunately, he had to restrain himself and not allow the meeting to turn into a farce.
But the young one sitting next to him — Wedge Antilles — destroyed all the idyll of the meeting, blowing on his bangs. He managed to throw unruly hair away from his eyes with an air stream, which caused a triumphant smile on his face.
It served as a trigger.
— General Antilles! — roared the Bothan, who was eager to break down at least on someone who by virtue of his office cannot пересчитать all his bones. Han demonstratively inquired about the condition of his knuckles. He hasn't beaten Bothans for a long time... Oh, and how much I want to... — Show at least a drop of respect and seriousness to what is happening at the meeting of the Provisional Government!
— Calm down, Commander Fey'lya, — Mon Mothma advised in an icy tone, demonstratively tapping on the wooden stand with a wooden hammer. — General Antilles, please, order. This is an official meeting.
— I apologize, — Wedge spread his hands, childishly fluttering his eyes, meeting the gaze of the Bothan's violet eyes.
— Let's get back to the agenda, — Mon Mothma said in a mentor's tone. — General Solo, did I understand you correctly — during your undercover operation, you managed to discover the location of the Imperial military base?
— That's right, ma'am, — no, resolutely, Mothma is the best that has remained in the New Republic since the Alliance. If she hadn't met Han, if she had been afraid of confrontation with Borsk Fey'lya, if she hadn't invented and found the opportunity to "retroactively" create an order about his allegedly secret mission to obtain information about the enemy... Well, he had already deserted from the Empire, was running away from the Hutts, so he was morally ready for the fact that he would have to run away from the New Republic investigators as well. Praise the Great Force that everything was resolved bloodlessly. Although one particular Bothan во-о-он how his nostrils are flaring, any moment now he will suck up all the oxygen into himself.
— Where is this base located? — Fey'lya demanded an immediate answer.
Han rewarded him with a skeptical look. It seems the Councilor is not yet aware... So, Mon Mothma took a full breath... Oh, what will happen now...
— General Solo will not provide you with such information, — she said.
The fur on the Bothan's neck seems to have begun to turn red with rage. Is this even possible?
— I think I heard... — Fey'lya's voice rang with rage. — You, the head of the Provisional Government, want General Solo to ignore the principles of military hierarchy and withhold strategically important information from me? This is direct interference in the sphere of military command! How dare you...
From Wedge's face, it became clear that he himself was barely restraining himself from neighing. Han had to bite his tongue in pain for this.
Imagine, Fey'lya will probably have a heart attack soon. First, they did not allow him to tear the "deserter" Solo to shreds, stating that it was not an unauthorized absence, but only an undercover operation, so that the Imps would not find out about his work to find their base. Now they inform him that he will also not receive the information that Han has obtained. Oh-oh, what will happen when he learns the third portion of shocking information...
— That's right, Commander Fey'lya, — Mon Mothma said, giving him the most benevolent look she was capable of. — Didn't you receive about two or three weeks ago a document that the fleet groups under the command of Generals Solo and Antilles are transferred to the direct control of the Head of the Provisional Government and will be accountable only to me until we pass the current crisis?
It took the Death Star only two proton torpedoes to break into pieces. Judging by how glazed the Bothan's eyes became, he will obviously be stronger. It's good that Palpatine disliked non-humans — it's scary to imagine what would happen to the Alliance for the restoration of the Republic if the indigenous population of Botawui stood on the side of the Empire.
— No, Head of the Provisional Government, — he said quietly, — I did not receive these documents.
— In that case, you need to contact the сancelaria, — Mon Mothma said instructively. — Due to the fact that the military command is not able to develop an operation without it being compromised before our enemy, the fight against the Imperial separate task force will be entrusted to two squadrons of the fleet — under the command of the Generals Antilles and Solo present here.
— But... — Fey'lya said almost plaintively. He understood perfectly well that he was being deceived — and blatantly. But he couldn't do anything about it. Mon Mothma was walking on a sharp edge — actually on the verge of her authority. And now the Bothan understood that he was not able to stop her. Because he came here to devour one of the two Corellians present. And the fact that he would be kicked in the ass — this turned out to be news for him. — Head of the Provisional Government, if these squadrons are removed from their bases, then we will have entire sectors uncovered!
His voice grew stronger with each second. What Borsk can't take away, is the ability to quickly pull himself together. And now he is trying to get out of the situation.
— I understand this perfectly, — Mon Mothma said. — In that case, you need to use your rights as Commander of the Armed Forces and redirect our ships from various places in a short time to restore security...
"And what's the point of all this?" — Han almost blurted out. The Imps had already learned to punch them in the face with their foot right under their noses, destroying peripheral bases while the sector fleet was sitting out due to Fey'lya's orders.
— You understand that the only fleet from where I can take the necessary number of ships is the Fourth, — a flame of rage flashed in the Bothan's violet eyes. — And he is preparing to conduct a special military operation against the Ciutric Hegemony...
— Which will not take place due to the fact that the Imps intercepted most of the transport caravans going to Bothawui, — Wedge said, looking at the stucco molding on the ceiling. The Bothan gave him such a heavy and furious look that somewhere on the sidelines both Death Stars wept with admiration for the behavior of the furry one.
— I ask you to keep your opinion to yourself, General Antilles, — the Bothan advised.
Han noted that the Councilor who was bothering everyone around him was beginning to shed his mask of decency, becoming more and more irritable, capricious, and frankly harmful. What happened to the eternal Bothan endurance and well-groomed gloss?
It seems that working as commander-in-chief is not at all what the Bothan imagined. Especially in the chaos that is flourishing around.
— As you say, Councilor Fey'lya, — Wedge shrugged.
— In that case, — Mon Mothma looked meaningfully at the Bothan, — I'm sure you understand the importance of the upcoming negotiations for me and the generals. Alone, — she said with emphasis.
The Bothan rewarded her with a long piercing look, full of promises of political adversity. Then reluctantly got up and followed to the exit.
After the door closed behind the Bothan, the head of the Provisional Government exhaled in relief. Only now Han paid attention to her whitened knuckles, in which she held the hammer, with which she called for calm.
"It seems she is having a hard time too," Han thought.
— The situation is not easy, — Wedge Antilles noted.
— Worse than you can imagine, — Mon Mothma said dryly, raising her eyes to them. — Fey'lya is not one of those who will so easily forget the insults inflicted on him. And even more so when they concern the political front. I'm sure that now he will be looking for reasons to turn the Senate against me. And he will use them at the next meeting.
— And the creation of two task forces only pours fuel on the open flame, — Antilles said thoughtfully. — He will do everything to somehow divert the senators' eyes away from the wave of attacks that have happened to us lately.
— That's why you must achieve success as soon as possible, — Mon Mothma explained. — There are enough mechanisms in the Senate and the Provisional Government to neutralize these orders. The procedures may take several weeks, but the Bothans will definitely strike.
— Yes, the мохнатики don't like it when they take away the pieces of information that they have so hardly obtained from their mouths, — Han muttered. — Especially since you just forced him to tear away two or even three squadrons from the defense of the Bothan sector. In fact, he has half of the fleet left.
— The supply of which has not yet been налажено, — Antilles chuckled. — If the Imps continue to successfully hunt for our convoys themselves or with the help of каперов, then we can definitely say that his venture with the attack on the Ciutric Hegemony will remain a fiery speech in the Senate.
— That's why I want the Fourth Fleet to stay in place, — Mon Mothma said. — Too often it happens that our forces are pulled from their bases, fragmented, and destroyed. If this is part of Krennel's plan regarding the attack on Botawui, then in the event of a successful attack on the Bothan homeland or the destruction of the Fourth Fleet, we will experience such a crisis, compared to which the current situation in the New Republic will seem too insignificant to us.
— If we lose one of the key fleets, then the entire south of the galaxy will be covered by only a couple of squadrons, — Wedge said thoughtfully. Looking at the head of the Provisional Government, he added:
— A very tricky step in military affairs, Madam Councilor, — he said suspiciously.
She only smiled confusedly.
— I managed to get word from Ackbar, — she explained.
— How is he? — Solo asked. Judging by the glistening eyes of Antilles — he was interested in the same question.
— He's holding on, — Mon Mothma admitted. — I managed to find a loophole through one of the prison guard shifts. My people continue to inform him, and he — us.
— It would be nice to pull him out of there altogether, — Wedge grumbled. He did not receive an answer — everyone present understood that this was simply not realistic now. Mon Mothma is already putting herself under such blows that she will not last long. If she is not helped, everything will collapse like a house of cards.
— The Admiral said, — continued the head of the Provisional Government, — that it is not just that all the actions of the Imperials as a result turn out to be in the hands of the Bothans. Perhaps this is a psychological game aimed at making Fey'lya feel like a winner and move on a crazy campaign. If he destroys Krennel, then it will further elevate the Bothans. And if Ackbar is right and the Imperials are luring our Fourth Fleet to destroy it or attack Bothawui — then the entire New Republic will clearly not be amused.
— In general, the Bothans have a good planetary shield at home, — Han scratched behind his ear. — It's not so easy to break through. You need either a large fleet, or a Star Dreadnought, or a Death Star...
— Or a Torpedo Sphere, — Wedge darkened. — The latest reports say that an Imperial Torpedo Sphere has disappeared from the Chasin system!
— Well, well, — Han barely restrained himself from swearing. — Maybe enough is enough, huh? The Imperials have so many lonely systems, so why not strike them?
— We don't know who they serve, — Mon Mothma darkened. — We have an armed neutrality with the Pentastar Alignment and the Imperials from Orinda, smaller Remnants are not dangerous, and if we encroach on their territory, the others will unite against us. And it will be very bad. The war will sweep across the entire galaxy. And Ackbar believes that the resumption of full-scale hostilities is what our enemy needs. Without economics and logistics, we will not last long. We have to survive and hit selectively. The only thing that is not clear is how far we can go. Compared to the Empire, we have to keep up to ninety percent of our Armed Forces for обороны of those or other sectors because of these strikes on the rear, waiting for an attack from any side. And the remaining forces for the offensive campaign are too small. That's why I'm afraid that Fey'lya is following the lead of the Imperials and dragging the entire Fourth Fleet there as if for slaughter.
— Then, perhaps, we should go quickly and make a fuss on the Imperial planetka? We will thin out their training center for hired killers...
Wedge hiccupped in surprise.
— Can you elaborate? — he asked.
— Yes, General Solo, — Mon Mothma smiled weakly. — If it doesn't bother you. With all the details.
Ugh, right. I wonder how long it will take after you hear that an unknown (and most likely — Imperial) reported to me the coordinates of the planet, which it would be nice to basedeltazero, and the moment when I'm locked in the next cell with Ackbar?
— I went to Nar Shaddaa to shake up old contacts, — Han said, trying not to look into Mon Mothma's eyes. For some reason, I was ashamed. — One of the informants told me that the Imperials have a planet where their outstanding killers are trained, I understand, saboteurs. The Imps are probably combining business with pleasure. So, according to unconfirmed information, there is a high chance that after an attack on this training center, we will find out the whereabouts of Leia.
— Is she on this planet? — Mon Mothma worried.
— Honestly, I don't know, — Han didn't dissemble. He didn't particularly perceive Sedriss's words at face value. He wanted the planet to be destroyed directly too much. From which Han concluded that this "informant" clearly had a double bottom. He is clearly from the Imperials, and, taking into account the constant squabbles between the Remnants, he could clearly try to inflict damage on his opponents with the help of the New Republic. And at the same time, he remains on the sidelines and all the arrows are transferred to Coruscant.
Or it's someone from the offended partners of the commander of the same task force, who decided to annoy his former employer for one reason or another. One way or another, but Lobot — Lando's assistant, to whom Han turned in the first place, could not find anything about this person in the network. Which indicated extraordinary abilities to hide his identity from ubiquitous bureaucratic procedures.
— And is there an Imperial base there at all? — Wedge said thoughtfully. — Maybe the tip-off is empty and someone decided to take advantage of our situation to lead the fleet into a specific system and spank us there properly? Remember the Ambush at Rugosa...
— I was of the same opinion, — Han said grimly. — Therefore, I went there with a couple of friends on a ship with clean identifiers — for reconnaissance. And I really didn't like the fact that one of our medium GT-75 transport ships is hanging in orbit, the engine data of which indicate that it was sent to the Hoth yards in the past.
— Coincidence? — Mon Mothma clarified.
— I don't think so, — Han admitted. — It seems the Imperials have a hard time with transport starships, so they did not fail to covet ours. And, most likely, they are using it to transport cargo or recruits, or something else, to their base on Honoghr. Lobot, an old friend of Lando, was able to detect at least five small Imperial patrol ships that tried to intercept us in orbit. And he took orbital shots of the Imperial military base, which has seen better days, which, apparently, experienced the кара of orbital bombardment or heavy ground combat. But there is at least one heavy turbolaser tower operating there.
— It may be that the Imperials decided to restore their old base, so they drove a transport there, — Mon Mothma darkened. — Honoghr... I've never heard of such a planet.
— At least that's what the informant called it to me, — Han grimaced. — It is located in the Kessel sector. Based on what Lobot and I managed to find — no one has ever indicated a planet at these coordinates in any sources. No matter what they called it: Honoghr, bedside table, or an ugly ball with depressive landscapes.
— Does it look that bad? — Wedge whistled, earning a reproachful look from Mon Mothma and immediately pretending as if he had not committed anything reprehensible at all.
— It makes you shiver, — Han shuddered. — A depressing impression, repelling from orbit cleaner than the anti-space обороны system.
— It would be very reckless to simply attack a base on an unknown planet, about which we know nothing, — Mon Mothma said. — Maybe your informant was mistaken and this is a base of some illegal settlers or smugglers who decided to hide from the authorities.
— In the Kessel sector, it's very, very easy to do, — Wedge shared his thoughts.
— I am also not inclined to fly there and drop a couple of thousand proton bombs on their heads, — Han squirmed in his chair. And it's not about humanism at all. He has repeatedly faced cunning Imperial and other antics. If you are given the condition — commit something nasty and get what you want, then in ten cases out of ten you are simply used. And you won't like the result. Lando Calrissian will confirm this after the deal with Darth Vader in Cloud City on Bespin. — To be honest, I would like to go there with the paratroopers of Lieutenant Page. If the enemy brings other ships to the meeting — we will meet him. But I would like to know what is happening on the surface explicitly. If there is really an Imperial base there, then data may be found on where to look for their main base.
No matter how much he wanted to return Leia back as soon as possible, he understood perfectly well that the princess would never forgive him if he went after her and the children over heads. He didn't believe that she could be dead. Not a single Imperial would go for the fact that to execute a high-ranking official of the New Republic without trying to get any privileges in exchange for her. And since nothing is still known about her whereabouts, it means that the Imperials are keeping her with them until a convenient moment.
At least that's what his heart told him. And in the depths of his soul, he hoped that little Luke would feel if something happened to his sister. And he will let him know...
— Okay, — Mon Mothma smiled tensely. — I will arrange a transfer...
And it will cost her additional headaches.
— I have about the same situation, — Wedge said. — The planet Lainuri, the Mid Rim. Has never and nowhere been seen in connection with the Empire before. But it was Yang Dodonna who pointed to it, — Han darkened when he heard the familiar name. He had already heard about the terrible death of the general. — I want to take Rogue Squadron there and visit, to figure out what's going on.
— It could be a trap, — Han noted.
— As is Honoghr, — Antilles replied with the carelessness inherent in all Corellians. — But you will fly there, won't you?
— Yes, — Solo said firmly. — I think this is the way to find Leia.
— And I hope to find through Lainuri those who so cruelly treated General Dodonna, — said the youngest general in the armed forces of the New Republic firmly. — At least we know for sure that neither Lainuri nor Honoghr belong to the official territories of the Imperials. So for us they are legitimate targets. And no one will be able to present us with anything for them.
— May such small, but victories bring our citizens faith that we have not given up and have not hit the panic, — Mon Mothma said.
"And they will also help her avoid a wave of protests and indignation regarding the transfer of two squadrons under her command," Han Solo thought. "And they will give food for thought — if you can only win if you don't trust the Bothan plans, then maybe the problem is not in the holes in the New Republic as such, but in these blanks for rugs?"
***
— An interesting place you have chosen for the meeting, Grand Admiral Thrawn, — Baron D'Asta said, settling into the chair standing on the other side of the metal table separating us. Maybe it was worth arranging the meeting more intriguingly, with the luxury due to the status and position of the baron, but as soon as I imagined myself giving the corresponding order, the face of Captain Pellaeon immediately appeared before my eyes, whose crew had barely finished bringing the Chimaera in order after it played the role of a grain carrier.
— Sometimes duties catch us at the most unexpected moment, — I noted philosophically, noting how the baron felt very uncomfortable in the presence of the Imperial Guardsman standing behind my back. — The orbit of Trogan is no worse for a meeting.
— Did you really decide to include this system in the territories under your control? — my собеседник grimaced.
— Does this fact bother you in any way, Baron? — I inquired, emphasizing his title. A small hint at the formalized format of the meeting. Just to understand that you don't need to dissolve in promises of a speedy meeting in any place and at any time, but in fact refer to urgent matters as soon as the connection with your agents disappears and expect that this will not cool the degree of relationship in any way.
— This world is a bottomless pit for pouring credits, — Ragez explained his opinion. — They are on the verge of poverty and barely make ends meet.
— Such an opinion has the right to be, — I agreed. — However, this is an Imperial world.
— Which was not needed by any of the Remnants, — the Baron noted. — The taxes from it are miserable, it is located far from the territories controlled by the Empire, the economy is in crisis, the tourist business that local rulers planned to open here — died even at the construction stage. They have no own обороны forces — only a couple of police detachments. There are not even customs and patrol ships. I resolutely do not understand what could have interested you in such a wretched place, Grand Admiral.
"Eight million desperate locals who live half-starved and are not needed by either the New Republic, the Imperial Remnants, the bandits, or the Hutts," I mentally replied. "And in addition, a meeting held here will not only rivet your and other interested attention to my interest in Trogan, but will also allow Captain Pellaeon to finish negotiating with local authorities on mutually beneficial cooperation."
Coming to the aid of a people on the verge of semi-starved existence means securing their loyalty. And eight million people in the current circumstances is eight million people. Some of whom can easily solve some of my problems. In one form or another.
— You are not obliged to understand the meaning of my actions, Baron, — the voiced answer, of course, was different. — Or did you decide that I should be accountable to you?
A slight smile touched the Baron's lips.
— Not at all, Grand Admiral, — he said. — Just trying to understand what could be so remarkable on this planet.
I didn't answer. Let him think up the answer himself. Pay attention to the planet... In fact, the main goal is precisely this.
— I think you wanted to discuss a certain range of questions with me, — I reminded. — Or does my attention to Trogan refer to this list?
— Not at all, Grand Admiral, — the Baron assured me, once again glancing at Tiers, who was standing in full combat gear. — You have a curious bodyguard...
I was silent. What comments are needed here?
The silence dragged on for a few seconds.
The Baron, no longer hiding his interest, was looking at Tiers, and I was stroking the ysalmiri, who loved to doze on my hips. An interesting animal. If it weren't a lizard, I would think it was a relative of the sloth. Her entire daily cycle consists only of the time allotted for sleep, food, and sleep again... And so on in a circle.
— Well, I admit, the Guardsman is really real, — finally said Baron D'Asta with a sigh.
I raised my eyes to the aristocrat. The Baron, looking at me, broke into a light benevolent smile.
— Well, let's get down to business, — he said. — I am very grateful to you for your actions at the Hoth yards, — he made a small pause. What for? Was he waiting for me to assure him: "What are you, Baron, it's all Delak Krennel?". Really, not funny. Both he and I know perfectly well what his spies reported to him before they fell silent forever.
— The contract for transportation is in my pocket, — he told. — Thanks to your ingenuity and talent, Grand Admiral. Thank you for your assistance.
— As I am — for the one provided to me, — not to remain in debt for the expressed courtesy. — Supplies from the D'Astan sector are hard to underestimate. As are your pilots provided for piloting my fighters.
— It's the least I could do for you, — the Baron said. All the courtesies and smiles disappeared from his not young face, making it clear that the preludes were over. — I suppose I can't count on the return of my people?
— If you are talking about the pilots, then you have the right to recall each of them at any time convenient for you, — I said. The necessary number of clones from the best of them have already been made.
— I meant my informants from among the workers of the shipyards on Hast, — the Baron said, carefully studying me. — Twenty-eight intelligent beings in one workshop and fourteen in another.
Imagine, even the number is close to the truth.
— At the end of the current month, they will be delivered to you safe and sound.
— Can I inquire about the reason for such a long delay? — the Baron was alerted. — These forty-two observers are my most capable operatives, former employees of Imperial Intelligence and Security Service. They remained loyal to me after the collapse of the Empire and the rearrange of territories. So, I think you understand that I would not like to lose them. It will take too much time to train new ones.
— You will receive all fifty-seven of your informants as soon as my Security Service finishes working with them, — I said. Surprise flashed in the Baron's eyes. — I suppose you forgot to mention your people who worked at the orbital defence stations?
— Indeed, — the Baron smiled. — They have been there for so long that I have even forgotten. I hope you understand that after the first battle for Hoth, the opportunity to recruit freelance workers and send your people there could not be missed.
Whom you intend to receive back. And thoroughly question them about the methods by which the operation was carried out. The transfers, with the help of the direction finding of which the spies were identified, turned out to be too short and did not contain details. Only statements of facts about the fact that my troops participated in the battle, as well as the quantitative and qualitative composition of the fighting ships. It is thanks to the intersection of such data that the Baron is firmly convinced that it was I who fulfilled his wish to destroy the place of disgrace of the private fleet of his sector.
— A very logical and prudent act, — an approving nod from my side. — Should I continue the measures to lure out your informants from among the military personnel or hired personnel of my fleet and army?
— Please forgive my audacity, — the Baron said with a barely noticeable bow. — I should have been informed about what was happening. I hope you understand.
— Clearly and distinctly, — I confirmed. — And I will not tolerate anything like this again. I don't need allies who doubt me and try to look over my shoulder.
— In that case, I should apologize for something else, — the Baron said thoughtfully, waiting for a certain reaction from me. Another test for intelligence.
— Oh yes, — my smile did not express joy. — Our conversation about the internal politics of the Galactic Empire in your residence. Nothing wrong. Your fears about a stupid alien, who unjustly wears a Grand Admiral's uniform and is trying to prove something to someone, had a right to be. I hope you are not offended by my words either?
— Communication with you is like conducting negotiations in the best years of the Empire in the Imperial Palace, — the Baron chuckled good-naturedly. — You never know if they support you or test you.
— You are a worthy representative of this tradition, — I said.
— Times are like that, — the aristocrat said with a serious face. — Can I inquire about where you got the Imperial Guardsman from, Grand Admiral? According to my information, none of them left their previous place of service.
— Are you sure you want to hear the answer? — I asked.
— If there are more guards ready to serve me as a bodyguard — yes, — D'Asta said. — Since our conversation, my specialists have prevented four assassination attempts on my life. With heavy losses in personal security. I am sure that the guards are a much more reliable way to secure your life.
— Is it known who is behind the attacks? — I asked.
— Good killers don't name names, — D'Asta smirked. — But the last one... Let's just say, he wasn't very professional. He, as I understand it, and the others too, were hired by unknown people, but according to indirect data, the killer realized that he was an agent of Imperial Intelligence. For a small reward, he shared his undoubtedly valuable observations. I will be killed if I do not stop supporting you.
That's how it is. The case is taking a turn for the worse. You don't need to guess much about the reasons that made the aristocrat a target for assassins.
— The reason for the liquidation is our conversation with you at the residence on Nez Peron, — I stated.
— I am sure that they could not know the details of our conversation, — the Baron said. — However, from the smallest traces, you can always understand the picture as a whole.
— Synthesis is a very common way of operating with information, — I said. After estimating the options in my head, I said:
— I will send you several guards, — the next batch of clones, including hundreds of copies of Tiers standing behind me, will be ready no earlier than ten days. Several more days are needed to test their capabilities and consolidate skills. — They will arrive under the guise of mercenary bodyguards. I am sure that you will not find it difficult to spread a rumor about the search for highly qualified mercenaries to ensure your own security.
— I was counting on the aura of authority and horror that the guards produce in their attire, — the Baron chuckled. — Half of the future hired killers will think before deciding to go against them.
Oh, Baron... I thought too badly about you. I even developed plans for your destruction. And you almost directly state that you continue to act together. This commands respect. To know that at any moment you can be killed in a dozen ways because of your beliefs, but not to retreat... This person clearly cherishes his point of view about the world and the position of aliens in it much more than his life.
Of course, everything needs to be checked... But if the circumstances are as he presents them to me... Well, this person deserves to be called an ally. And his safety should be thought about.
— And the other half will blow up your residence just to get guaranteed confirmation of the target's defeat, — I noted calmly. — I'm not sure that such a result will meet your expectations.
— I am grateful to you for your help, Grand Admiral, — the Baron said seriously. — I am very sorry that you did not manage to get orbital workshops and обороны stations for yourself. I am sure I can help you with this. The transportation contract is very solid. So now it is in my power to provide you with financial support as well, — well, a good offer. — As promised, I will provide you with all the necessary assistance... I delivered two billion in cash on my shuttle. My people should have already unloaded them. I am sure that this money will be enough to purchase the necessary number of defence stations. I don't have shipyards for servicing capital ships, but we can take on the repair of light starships. As well as heavy cruisers. I heard you have a decent amount of them. It is unlikely that your only workshop can cope with quickly bringing them in order...
— Thank you for your concern, Baron, — I said in a calm tone. — There will be enough money. Otherwise, I think it is worth stopping any kinds of joint actions.
The head of the D'Astan sector looked at me with suspicion and surprise.
— May I know the reason for the change in your intentions, Grand Admiral? — he asked.
— Of course, — the answer sounded just as measured. — Your safety, Baron. The forces acting against me intend to destroy my open allies. I can provide you with bodyguards, but this will only exacerbate the problem. From attempts to kill you personally, they will move on to threats to your daughter, your sector, and so on down the list.
— Do you think I am not able to take care of the safety of those who are dear to me? — the aristocrat frowned.
— Not at all, — I said. — I just don't see the point in continuing to escalate this confrontation until the source of the threat is eliminated. I dare to assure you that our agreements with you remain in force — we remain allies as before in the matter of concluding peace with the New Republic and continuing to preserve the best of what the Empire has accumulated over the past decades. However, we will transfer them to the plane of covert support.
— It seems to me that you are not telling me something, Grand Admiral, — Baron D'Asta squinted. — I doubt that after demonstrating your talents, you will not have enough forces — your own and mine — to crush Ubiktorat in the bud and subjugate the fleet subordinated to it...
Looking into the black eyes of the rather stretching ysalmiri, I met the eyes of the aristocrat.
— The problem is, Baron D'Asta, — I said, — that Ubiktorat is only the tip of the iceberg. The danger, for everything that is not ready to fanatically destroy any intelligent life in the galaxy that does not submit to the fanaticism of the New Order, is located in the Deep Core...
***
How much time has passed since she was placed in the "hotel apartments"? Several days for sure.
Without the opportunity to track the time of day and night by a chronometer or the common movement of the local luminary due to the absence of windows and time recording devices, Leia was glad that she was finally allowed to leave her camera.
No matter how the Imperials call that luxurious dwelling that was allocated to her, for her it remains only a place of confinement. And all these comfortable chambers, soft furniture, helpful droids supplying her with food, fresh fruits and vegetables, could not convince her that she is "visiting". No, this is just a comfortable prison, where she was kept solely because she is needed for trading with the New Republic. They will certainly try to exchange her for something that the Imperials need. Prince-Admiral Krennel, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, the Imperial Ruling Council, or any other Imperial who somehow controlled her imprisonment. Even that Grand Admiral that Lieutenant Colonel Astarion spoke about.
Leia walked along a small alley, enjoying the smell of flowers and the fresh air that brought the aromas of the outside world. Sitting down on a small bench, she cast a glance towards the stormtroopers standing next to the exit through which she was brought here to "breathe fresh air". Uh huh. Imperials who care about the health of a pregnant woman. Hilarious. It's just a pity that there's no urge to laugh.
The young woman ran her hand over her rounded belly, listening to the twins who were now sleeping. They always slept at night, so Leia, with the help of this simple trick, could determine the time of day and night. It's just that the children had an unpleasant habit of quieting down for a while during the day, so... Either her day and night regime was lost in a closed space, or the day on this planet where she was kept is quite short.
Leia threw back her head, admiring the night sky, decorated with a pattern of stars, through the transparisteel dome. If she were as strong in astrography as Han or at least Luke, she could practice guessing the place of her imprisonment. However, the pattern of the night sky and the bright circles of more than two satellites running across it, told her little. How many planets has she visited all this time? On hundreds, if not thousands. Yes, somehow she did not bother to remember the picture of the night sky, being more occupied with matters relating to diplomacy and negotiations. However, there is nothing to dream about — she is unlikely to be kept on the planet where she once was. After all, the Imperials have control over if not a third, then a quarter of the galaxy, which means that they can be on any of the worlds under their control. Especially if we take into account the words of Lieutenant Colonel Astarion that her "rainbow host" is a Grand Admiral. If only to know which of those whom the New Republic considered dead...
— Mistress Leia! — she heard a familiar, full of panic and artificial intonations voice of C-3PO.
The girl turned her head towards the source of the sound and broke into a smile. "Zolotnik" — her faithful protocol droid, whom her husband did not like so much for his eloquence — toddled towards her, sparkling with a golden body polished to a shine.
"Did the Imperials polish my droid?" — Leia was horrified. How dare they?! What kind of Imperials are these?
— C-3PO, — she smiled, rising to meet the droid. — I'm glad you're okay!
— Oh, trouble, mistress! — exclaimed the translator droid, throwing up his hands. — You have the same dress on that you had at the time of our capture!
Leia raised her eyebrow questioningly.
— Yes, C-3PO, — she agreed. — My wardrobe somehow didn't make it here with me. And I'm not going to wear the clothes the Imperials offered.
In the latter, she was, of course, lying, since no woman could resist a soft terry robe made of the finest wool, or even a couple of everyday dresses made of expensive materials. But Leia wore this clothing exclusively for pragmatic purposes — so as not to wear out her Alderaanian outfit. And, to be honest, it was much more convenient to move around the apartments or for medical procedures, which she was steadily required to undergo, in the things the Imperials gave her. At first, she was suspicious of all this (there was even a thought that the Imperials were keeping her here solely in order to seize the twins), but gradually she herself realized that medical observation did not pose a threat to her. Moreover, given the constant stress in the New Republic, this could be considered a blessing, since she had not monitored her health so closely in the last seven months since the start of her pregnancy.
"Some Imperials are strange... And their concern is obviously not for nothing."
— And yet, you are as dazzling as ever, Princess, — a voice sounded behind her.
The girl almost jumped half a meter when she heard another painfully familiar voice.
— Lando! — she exclaimed, rushing to embrace the family friend.
Calrissian and Chewbacca, who was standing behind him and was unusually silent, received the warmest and most sincere feelings of joy.
— Thank the Force you're alive and well, — she said, barely holding back tears.
— Chewie and I are glad you're safe, — Calrissian smiled. The Wookiee standing next to him growled softly. — Yes, Chewie, I noticed too.
— Noticed what? — Leia became wary.
— Master Lando probably wants to say that you no longer have dark circles under your eyes and your face is no longer pale, — the translator droid cooed, like a hen.
— Really? — Organa-Solo was surprised, looking at the native of Kashyyyk. Chewbacca nodded in agreement, reinforcing his words with quiet growls.
— I didn't think Imperial captivity was a comfortable sanatorium, — Calrissian said, grimacing, gallantly offering the girl a seat. — I was not only patched up, but also found a couple of old diseases.
— Something serious? — Leia became wary.
— Nonsense, — Calrissian waved his hand. — I should have eaten right when I was doing illegal things in my youth. And then somehow I didn't have time for that...
Chewie issued a confirming tirade in his native language.
— But at least he stopped shedding, — Lando smirked. Seeing that Leia did not fully understand the Wookiee language, he patiently explained:
— He complains that the stormtroopers forced him to wash, ran him through a dozen scanners, injected him with drugs, and now they feed him healthy food, and not what he usually ate in the company of Han.
— Indeed, — Leia frowned. — Some kind of... resort. I don't remember our captured prisoners saying anything about being kept in such conditions.
— I'm sure it's for the most important guests, — Lando said, tilting his head back and admiring the night sky. — Beauty...
— And fresh air, — Leia nodded automatically. — And you, do you happen to know...?
— That's exactly what I'm doing, — Calrissian smiled at her, looking at the princess. — But it would be better if it was a sabacc deck than the starry sky. I'll have to strain myself to understand where we are...
Chewie grumbled unhappily. Leia felt uncomfortable. Although she didn't know the Wookiee language so well, she understood what the family friend wanted to say to her.
— He says that... — Lando began.
— I understood, — Leia said quietly. — We're somewhere in the Unknown Regions?
— Looks like it, — Calrissian confirmed. — Not the best place to relax, but what can you do. We don't choose...
— Were you interrogated? — Leia asked.
— No, — Calrissian replied. — Some young man from ISB came, said that we are now guests of some Imperial warlord who imagined himself a grand admiral, and must obey the rules of detention of prisoners of war. When I heard that, I almost turned gray.
Chewie, in unison with the former gambler, burst into a small speech.
— It's the same with him, — Lando sighed. — How are you doing, Leia?
— About the same, — she said. — Lots of talk, a requirement to monitor my health and visit medical droids and procedures. In all the time I've spent here, my information chip with analysis data has more information than in the New Republic since birth. If I didn't know that we were in the hands of the Imperials, I would have thought that some cannibals were fattening us up for a grand dinner.
— I've always liked your sense of humor, — Lando smiled. — I'm sure the Imperials want to distract our attention from something in this way.
— I have similar suspicions, — Leia grimly shared her thoughts. — They throw dust in our eyes so that we don't see a lurking rancor behind it.
Chewbacca expressed several growling suggestions.
— I don't think so, — Leia objected. — You have to be a complete fool to demand any sectors or systems for us. Even if we assume that Mon Mothma goes crazy and agrees, not only will Fey'lia simply not let her live, but the local government will also oppose this. We are not the Empire, we do not give away our territories and sentients in exchange for something.
For some reason, she remembered Bakura and the Ssi-ruuk, to whom Palpatine promised the population of an entire system in exchange for valuable technology. And she now very much wanted to hope that the sudden humanism that had awakened in the Imperials was not a prelude to them being sold into slavery or something worse.
The princess carefully dismissed the thought that the Imperials intended to take her children away. In that case, it would be foolish to take care of the others — and they even cleaned the droid...
— C-3PO, — she addressed the golden translator. — Tell me, what did the Imperials do to you?
— Oh, Mistress Leia, — the droid threw up his hands. — First, I was taken to some workshop, where they completely removed the plating, then they began to defect parts and replaced several servomotors, lubricated the hinges and bearings, eliminated several malfunctions that remained after an inept person in Cloud City on Bespin repaired me, — the droid turned towards the Wookiee towering over him. Chewie growled threateningly and the translator hurried to retreat.
— Is that all? — she clarified.
— No, Mistress Leia, — the droid admitted. — I was immersed in an oil bath, underwent a full diagnosis...
— I'm beginning to understand why Han hates him, — Lando coughed into his fist. — Droid, was your memory accessed?
— Oh, Master Lando, that's exactly what I'm talking about! — the droid wailed. — I was connected to a stand and my data banks were copied!
Leia inhaled sharply. Of course!
— Farewell to the confidentiality of the last twenty years of work, — Leia said sadly. — Now the reason for such Imperial cordiality is clear. They received data from C-3PO about who and where I met, what missions he carried out, what the negotiations were about...
Chewbacca growled indignantly, shaking his fists at the stormtroopers guarding them. They didn't even budge. Lando peered intently at the guys in snow-white armor, after which he uttered:
— The value of this information is doubtful, — he said. — Many events happened decades ago, so...
— Lando, — Leia smiled sadly. — The droid was with me at every rebel command base. And in the Imperial rear... Even if the relevance is doubtful, can you imagine how many secret deals and negotiations have been conducted during all this time? Some of them can be used for blackmail or worse — so that some of the systems and sectors secede from the New Republic. We even did business with Black Sun... I'm not talking about numerous smugglers, pirates, mercenaries... And how many confidential negotiations I conducted with other senators in the presence of C-3PO — both during the Empire and already in the New Republic. What are the negotiations with the Sluissi and Sullustans, the Kuat... Why did I listen to Luke and stop erasing the droid's memory...
— Things are bad, — Lando agreed. — I'm sure our "upright benefactor and master" will be able to squeeze the most out of such information.
Leia felt a tear roll down her cheek. A burning statement of her helplessness...
— We'll definitely figure everything out, Leia, — Calrissian said firmly to her. — The main thing is to figure out where we are, get out of here and...
Chewbacca made a quiet growl.
— Are you sure? — Calrissian tensed. Even with her rudimentary Force abilities, Leia sensed the anxiety emanating from him.
— What happened?! — taking herself in hand, she asked.
— I really hope Chewie is wrong, — Lando muttered. — But... if that's not the case, then...
— Chewbacca says that this sky is familiar to him, — the translator droid said impudently, as always. — We are on Sluis Van IV.
— Krennel, — Leia sobbed with a sigh full of pain and the sound of shattered hopes.
C-3PO looked confusedly from one sentient being to another.
Chewbacca quietly muttered curses mixed with words of comfort.
And Lando Calrissian looked at the stormtroopers with barely distinguishable markings of the 501st Legion and wondered how deep a hole they had fallen into this time.
***
— Baron D'Asta's shuttle has left the hangar and gone into hyperspace, — Pellaeon reported, approaching my chair.
— Good, Captain, — I said, examining the black eyes of the ysalamiri staring at me. What do you want, little animal? Rub your tummy? Look how she bares her herbivorous teeth... Who do you want to scare? I know that you will not encroach on prey larger than yourself. The instinct of a peaceful animal. — What's the news from Trogan?
— Negotiations are complete, — the captain announced, glancing at Thrawn in combat gear standing a couple of meters from me. — The local government is ready to join us in exchange for support. Secretly, as you requested. Officially, they will publish information that they refused you and hope for help from the Five Star Commonwealth or the Imperial Space. But they agreed to the deployment of a small garrison — to ensure law and order. Smugglers have become more active lately.
— Did you notify them that agents of various warlords will soon descend on the planet? — I clarified.
— Not without skepticism, but they heard me, — said the commander of the Chimaera. — May I ask a question, sir?
— Ask away, Captain, — I replied. — And order the navigator to chart a course to our next target.
Gilad, having passed the command down the chain, turned to me:
— Why are you so sure that the governments of the warlords will pay attention to Trogan? After all, they officially refused us and will probably continue to be in the same deplorable situation as before.
— Because the Chimaera has been here, Captain, — I explained. — Those who were watching us from the inside are now deprived of this opportunity to the same extent. Therefore, they will need information from the outside. Trogan is of no military, economic, or strategic value. A planet-abyss, as Baron D'Asta characterized it. And this is a well-known fact. However, we have been here, haven't we?
— We will be here for another two minutes, — Gilad chuckled good-naturedly, noting the progress of the order. — Do you think the Empire will buy into the fact that we found something here and are interested?
— Of course they will buy into it, — I said. — In a day, there will be no room to swing a cat from representatives of various small companies, trading agencies, carriers, and so on — open a textbook on operational work and point your finger at any page of operational implementation examples. All of them will be implemented. Including the dispatch of diplomatic missions. They will be interested in what exactly we wanted to get from the Trogan government. And, if the latter act in accordance with the plan, they will receive substantial rewards for providing the relevant information.
— Which they can spend to enrich themselves, — Pellaeon said dissatisfiedly. I can't argue with him — we both know what the Empire is now and what motives guide the moffs and planetary governors. — And the population will remain impoverished.
— And this is the second part of the puzzle, Captain, — I explained, stroking the ysalamiri on the head. — The lack of change in the presence of obvious grounds for it is difficult to hide. Trogan is not rich and developed enough for everyone who wants to leave this planet. We offer them an alternative.
— Recruiters among the garrison! — Pellaeon blurted out.
— Of course, — I confirmed. — If the situation becomes hopeless, but there is the prospect of a better life — a sentient being will agree to take a risk, but get out of the quagmire of adversity. That is why I chose Trogan for this operation. Among the eight million sentients of the local population, there will be at least a couple of thousand who want to enlist in the Imperial army. None of the warlords will have the right to make any claims against us — since the planet is outside their jurisdiction. From the new recruits, we will know for sure whether there are changes in the internal policies on Trogan after the conclusion of the secret agreement or not.
— In the latter case, will we intervene? — Pellaeon clarified.
— We? — I clarified. — No, we will not intervene. Major Tierce, — I nodded slightly towards the Imperial Guardsman, — will solve the problem on his own. We have other strategic tasks.
— Am I correct in understanding that you do not want to declare an open alliance with Trogan, so that Palpatine and his henchmen do not destroy the planet for this reason?
— Exactly, — I confirmed. — I have already explained my point of view on this matter in detail. I don't think it's worth repeating.
— No need, sir, I remember, — Pellaeon said. — Wasn't it dangerous to inform Baron D'Asta that Palpatine is alive?
— There is a war going on, Captain, — I reminded him. — Not a day goes by without risk.
— He could set us up big time if he starts looking for ways to connect with someone who is connected to the Core, — Pellaeon said doubtfully. — And then those who are loyal to the New Order might turn against us.
— This fact will not go unnoticed by our intelligence operatives, — I said, looking at Pellaeon.
— The bodyguards you promised him? — the latter clarified. — I'm sure that the baron, if he weaves intrigues against us, will take care that his speeches remain out of reach of their ears.
— Naturally, — I confirmed. — That is why they will perform their direct duties as they should. I am talking about the baron's fifty-seven operatives, whom we will return to him at the end of this month.
— Were they successfully recruited? — Pellaeon was taken aback. — All of them?
— Not a single one, — I cooled his ardor.
— Then how...? — the commander of the Chimaera hesitated. For a few seconds, he was in a state of stupor, mulling over what he said, after which he uttered:
— They are inside Mount Tantiss, aren't they? — Gilad clarified.
— They are already dead, Captain, — I clarified. — The baron simply does not know that their "loyalty" is the merit of Ysanne Isard, who introduced her agents into his entourage. What remains of them after the interrogation by the employees of Lieutenant Colonel Astarion is unlikely to be of value to the baron. So we will send people who are loyal to us to him. Who will keep an eye on the baron, and help identify the chain of information supplies from the D'Asta sector directly to the former director of Imperial Intelligence.
— And, if the baron still supports Palpatine, — Pellaeon continued to develop the thought, — then we will replace him too?
— No, — I replied. — It won't happen. It's just reinsurance. The baron is a reasonable person and understands perfectly well that he will not achieve more influence under the New Order. Not after he turned the D'Asta sector into a territory of racial equality. So, the most he will do is try to find out if my words are true or not. We will find out his point of view at the end of the month, when his trusted people will lead caravans with supplies and everything necessary for the Empire through the territories controlled by our privateers on Mon Calamari ships.
— That is, if he continues to secretly transport to us what is necessary under the guise of cargo for the Empire, this will allow us to maintain supplies, and also confirm the plausibility of the picture that the convoy going to Krennel was attacked directly by the New Republic?
— Exactly, — I confirmed. — And also, in addition to this kind of supply and the secret dispatch of pilots and specialists to us, it will help to throw Ysanne Isard off the scent a little. This will not delay her for long, the combination is too simple for her to spend a lot of time solving it. But we don't need much.
— The Ice Queen has spread her web everywhere like a spider, — Pellaeon hissed through his teeth.
— That is why we need to find her and deal with her, — I explained. — Actually, all the necessary preparations in this direction are already taking place.
— Captain Pellaeon, the scanners have detected the takeoff of an unidentified starship from Trogan, — Lieutenant Tschel reported.
— Identified? — the commander of the Star Destroyer frowned.
— Transponder is disabled, — the young officer explained. — Recognized as a small patrol boat. It does not pose a threat, the weaponry is quite ridiculous against our deflectors...
— Uh-huh, — Pellaeon frowned. — Unless it's loaded with explosives and intends to ram our bridge. Activate the deflectors, prepare the turbolasers, send out the duty pair of TIE fighters...
— Calm down, Captain, — I advised, examining the image of the ship approaching us, preferring to keep a distance of eighty units from us and slowly approaching. So its pilot detected preparations for battle. — Cancel the combat alert. Send out two fighters. Do not open fire — portray an honorary escort. No signs of aggression.
— Sir? — Pellaeon looked at me in bewilderment.
— Take a closer look at the ship, Captain, — I advised. — Don't you find anything strange in its design and manner of piloting?
— An ordinary patrol boat with a hyperdrive, — Gilad muttered. — They are used to inspect freighters before they are allowed on the planet... And it moves in a characteristic manner — an Imperial pilot is at the helm... Did the Trogan customs officers decide that it would be better for them with us?
— There are no customs and patrol forces on this planet, — I reminded him. — They don't have government ships at all.
— Hmm... — the gray-haired officer hesitated. — Well, yes, there is such a thing... Otherwise, the smugglers would not live so freely here. But then who is it? He behaves as if he were our old friend...
— He is, Captain Pellaeon, — I explained. — Remember who in our subordinate armed forces used a similar type of ship. More precisely, one of them: they choose the one with the greatest influence to send a parliamentarian. The most devoted and closest to me and you for the last year has returned.
It took the commander of the Chimaera only a second or two to understand the meaning of what was said.
— Is it possible? — he was amazed. — I thought they would never change their minds.
— I doubt that this is a messenger from all their people, — I objected, watching as the duty pair of fighters organized an escort around the small ship and the three of them were already heading towards the Chimaera. — Open a communication channel with the patrol boat and transfer it to my chair.
After a couple of seconds, a bluish-white miniature hologram appeared before me.
— Glad to see you back, Rukh, — my former bodyguard made a polite bow. — How can I help the Noghri people?
— And I am glad to see you again, Grand Admiral Thrawn, — my interlocutor said, practically without the characteristic accent of his race. — Please forgive me for taking too long to find you. Honoghr is in danger. I beg you for help.